One Hot Mom (Pt I)

I vaguely remember the first time I heard “Your mom is so hot!”

I was about 12, I guess. Give or take, before I realized why my mom got all this attention. My dad was proud of her, and maybe a little jealous too, but as a little girl, I just didn’t think of her as sexy. She was my mom, and of course the Prettiest girl in the whole wide world, but what did I know about sex?

Well, just the basics, birds and the bees kinda stuff. I got “The Talk,” and then they even tested us on the vessicles in health class, but I was a late bloomer, I guess. I didn’t really even start to get attention until 9th grade, and even then, it was just pimple faced freshman boys, so ew?

Before that, I had an older brother, and he was in high-school. I was in middle school, and he had friends that liked to tease him about it. “Dude, your mom is so hot!” This was before American Pie added the term MILF to the lexicon, but he just said “Stop being gross,” the first time.

Big mistake, because then they knew that bothered him, so they started teasing him about it all the time, and they weren’t quiet about it. He also said “Keep it down around my sister!” and told me to go play, so I didn’t hear them talking about dirty stuff. Dirty words, and dirty jokes, ask him why he hang out with those dudes, when they were so rude, and crude, but since I was so under-developed, they didn’t really give me any attention. When they did, it was the bad kind, making fun of my flat chest, or asking me personal questions about whether I had my period yet, or any hair on my bush.

They joked about “Old enough to bleed,” or “Grass on the field, play ball.” A lot of my friends sun-bleached their hair, because they had this new product, you could just spritz on in the summer, and slowly go blonde. I think it had peroxide in it, I don’t know, but that’s what it smelled like. So, another game my brother’s rude friends liked to play was guess who was a natural blonde.

So, I guess that was my third sex education, and we had reading material to go along with it. I mean, my dad had porno magazines, and I caught the boys putting them back so I knew where he kept his stash. I could get into it, and read stories about grownup’s sexploits in the letters section, and the Forums.

Mostly men, wrote in, and I didn’t know how they liked to exaggerate. So, I got a few things wrong at first. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that 8″ is average, and also the dimensions in the Centerfolds. All the Pets were 5’2, 36x24x36 C, or D cups. Our dad was a Penthouse man, I got to see Playboys later, and I heard about them, but I never got the guts to ask him why he preferred Penthouse.

I just listened in to the boys talking, like I said, they weren’t quiet about it. That’s why they came by to see them, my brother had Penthouse, and they showed Bush. (Well, that and to perv on mom, and talk about how hot she looked.) That was a big deal, back in the day, because Playboy didn’t. That was considered “Euro,” so they had to get Club International, or OUI to see that.

I guess I was starting to get a little hair on my muff, and filled out to about a 28 A when I started playing with them. My pubes, and my boobies, sitting back with the latest issue, and reading the letters. The stories in the Forum, you know. Mostly married men, with the occasional young man, talking about their first time.

Nailing the hot secretary at work, the girl next door, or sometimes a hooker. There was one guy i remember, he was worried that his favorite hooker was a crossdresser, and asked Xaviera if that was gay. He was happily married, but he couldn’t get his wife to do the dirty. She tried it once, and didn’t like it, but the crossdressing hooker. I forget her name, but because she had a penis, she had no choice but to take it up the butt. So, the John was worried that it might make him gay.

That’s where I learned about bisexuals from, so there’s that. I never did find out if that hooker was a drag queen, transsexual, or just a little Latino boy in a dress. That’s from To Wong Foo, which came out much later, but I guess I was fascinated by the idea of guys that liked to dress up in women’s underwear. It’s just sexy underwear, on a man or a woman, and when I got old enough, I started getting amateur personals, at the sex shop.

Meet crossdressers in your area? Yeah, no. Not really, I mean I suspected that there might be one out there, and they’re just too closeted to come out, and put a personal add up, but I used to imagine the men I knew, wearing panties under their pants, to get horny. It never panned out, but I guess I could have driven down to San Francisco, where most of those magazines came out of, or up to Portland where they have all the sex shows. Which includes drag queens in the gay bars, but being a girl, they probably wouldn’t give me any attention. Maybe back east to Reno, where maybe I could find a cross-dressing Jiggalo to make my wildest dreams cum true, but I never did.

Well, I should talk about my son Jeremy, and his father I guess. One of my brother’s friends, he wasn’t as bad as the others, or at least he tried to hide it. Once I started filling out, in the bra, I started getting rude comments they used to make about our mom, only straight to my face. I was a Sophomore, so I had to been about 15? Give or take, I can’t remember whether it was before, or after my birthday, which is right smack dab in the middle of the year, so it depends on if it was fall, or spring semester.

So anyways, he never said anything crude, to my face, but he sure looked. I thought that was nice, when actually it was more than a little creepy, but I knew what he wanted to see, and i started to encourage it. Teasing him with glimpses up my skirt, or down a low-cut top, because I liked the attention. The way my chest felt with his eyes on it, but also the way he looked. Sneaking glances out of the corner of his eye, and then one of the boys or another would say something. So, he’d shake his head.

“Sorry, what?” He started wearing ballcaps, the right way around, so he could tip his head down, and peek out under the bill. I guess I’ll call him “Bill,” but the seniors were starting to get into the hat on backwards thing, and he never gave a shit about baseball. He just wore it to cover his eyes, so nobody knew what he was looking at. I was just happy it was me, instead of mom for once.

I guess I was a little jealous, too. Not like dad was, but it was hard to compete with her for attention, until I had something to show for puberty. Then, i caught Bill sneaking into my room, he closed the door, but I listened to him, digging through my hamper. Right behind the door when it was open, so I could just throw dirty clothes in the corner, but I kinda got the wrong idea.

Listening to him breathing, and the muffled pats of him fapping. He bumped the door, I imagined leaning back so he could tuck it in, and stuff the panties back in the hamper if I came back to catch him in the act, but I never did. i just listened, and tried to imagine what ones he was trying on. Turning this way, and that, to look at his hard buns through the tight fabric in the mirror over my dresser, and maybe pick up the hairbrush to spank himself gently through them, because i didn’t know what to make of the fapping sound I heard.

They didn’t even call it “Fapping,” but then he’d grunt, and bump around, stuffing the dirty underwear back in the hamper. I always went to the bathroom, to sort of bust him, and kinda not. he never asked me, why I was always in the bathroom when he came in to wash up. He just lowered his head, to hid his eyes, and “Uhh,”ed a lot, embarrassed.

Then, i’d let him in, and try to get a little brush past him, just to show that I was willing. I wanted him, and I thought I was ready, but he just closed the door, and washed his hands. While i went back to my room, to find the panties he’d stuffed down the side, so they weren’t right on top. Wadded up in a ball, so the mess was stuck to the inside, which was what made me think that he was wearing them, when he got off.

Then, I guess it was kinda perfect, because the boys were out fucking around in the yard. Bill came in, and he didn’t see me, because I hid so he’d think that he had the house to himself. He checked the closet, but not under the bed, and I left a fresh pair right on top. Still warm, and stinky from wearing them all day, and he sniffed them getting out his pecker.

He didn’t take his pants off, in fact he barely even let them droop down enough to see the top of his underwear, but he stuffed mine in there, and then he turned around. He didn’t see me at first, but then he stuck his waistband underneath his balls, and wrapped the panties around his wang to stroke it. Leaned back up against the wall, with his eyes closed, and this look on his face.

I never seen him look so happy, or peaceful, but with his eyes closed like that, I moved to try and get a better look, in a position where I could get my hand up my dress. Imagining it was his, but then I hit the slat with my shoulder. So it bumped, and the box spring hit the frame. It was so loud, and I froze up, but when I dared to look, he threw the panties on top of the basket, and came after me.

he changed, that peaceful happy expression I only got to see once was replaced with rage. He started yelling, and grabbed me. I tried crawling back, and kicking him under the edge of the bed, but he caught my foot, and dragged me out. Literally kicking, and screaming, until he covered my mouth, and held me down. On top of me, it took him a while to get inside of me, but it wasn’t like I imagined, of course.

They warn you about the quiet ones, but they never told me what was wrong with them. I thought that he was just shy, and i liked that, but the truth was, he had something to hide. He didn’t like me, he hated me, and my mom, and his sister too, from what i hear. He never said anything about it, even to the other boys when he thought there was nobody around to hear it, but it wasn’t just dirty jokes, and sexual insults.

He hurt me, not because I was a virgin, and he couldn’t help it. I knew that it would hurt the first time, but he smiled, when i tried to scream. He slapped my tit as soon as he got the strap of my dress down enough to expose it, and he ripped it on the side. He bit me on the neck, and shoulder, just to hear me squeal, and even pulled out so he could reach.

Being so much bigger, and stronger than me, he couldn’t bite me, except on the head, I guess. Not without pulling out, but he even went soft once, and i thought it was over. i thought he was finished, when actually he just pulled out to bite me again, only this time on the tit. That really made me squeal, so he could get hard again, and go back to raping me, but it took him a long time to finish. Because he kept stopping to bite me, and call me all the worst things he could think up.

He noticed I wasn’t wearing anything underneath the dress right away, but he was so sadistic. He got off on hurting my feelings, as much as biting me to make me squeal, but finally when he was done. He let me go so I could crawl back to the corner, and cry. Try to cover myself up as best I could, and cross my legs, so he didn’t see me, where he’d already gone way past looking at my crotch.

He said something about, what would happen if I told anyone, but i forgot it. yeah, he threatened me, and said that everyone would know that I was a slut, for coming onto him, but I don’t know why I obeyed that, when I didn’t even listen to him in the first place. I was too busy crying, and feeling sorry for myself, long after he left.

Now, let me tell you that you don’t have to blame the victim. Okay? Yeah, i dressed revealing, and came onto him. I teased him with glimpses of my underwear, and even encouraged to get into my dirty clothes because i liked it. In some sick way, I was into that pervy game, we played without ever talking about it, let alone setting up rules and boundries, but he didn’t have to rape me.

I was willing, and I would have done it willingly. Whatever he wanted, I would have sucked him off just to have his cock in my mouth, and taste his sperm straight from the source. I had already tasted it, licked fresh out of my dirty underwear, while he was cleaning up in the bathroom, but I was so hurt, and upset that I didn’t think about that.

I blamed myself, and that’s why you don’t have to blame the victims. Honestly, you suck at it, if you haven’t been there yourself. Raped, or sexually assaulted at least, you have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about, you fucking amateurs.

You can’t even blame the victims, because you have no idea what to say, and they always get it wrong. Unless they’re a victim too. You don’t have to blame the victims, because we can handle that, much worse than anything you can come up with, and making a rape victim feel bad? Hurting our feelings, making us feel worthless, ashamed, and dirty?

Good luck with that, after our Rapist went and did that, far better than you ever could.

You fucking amateurs.

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