“That's great,” he smiled. “I'm so glad to hear it.”
CHAPTER 9
As I've already mentioned, the very first time I joined my mother and father in their bed for a night of hot sex was the day I officially became a 9-year-old. It was my birthday, of course.
It was just after midnight and I'd been asleep in my own bed, when suddenly I was awake, alerted by my mom's urgent cries. She was moaning loudly, “Don't! Stop! Don't! Stop! Please! Oh, God, Don't! Stop!”
Which, of course, was really her coming her brains out as my father fucked her half to death, so that she was really begging him, “Don't stop! Don't stop! Please, oh God! Don't stop!”
Duh.
But at my tender young age, and half-asleep anyway, I'd raced down the hall to my parent's bedroom, thrown open the door and found my naked sweaty mother up on her hands and knees on their bed. My father was kneeling behind her with his big hard cock pounding in and out of her pussy.
“Mom!” I gasped. “Are you okay?”
She merely turned a smiling face to me at my childlike concern. And my dad, without missing a single stroke as his big cock kept plunging deeply into her, said, “Come and see for yourself, Maureen.”
And so I did.
But in reality (which I've never admitted to either of my folks), I'd known all along what they were doing: fucking like crazed weasels. And I'd merely wanted to join in on their dirty fun.
Because, even though that was my first time for sex with my own parents, I'd been eagerly instructed in a few sexual adventures well before that. And it was a secret I'd kept for a long time, not wanting to get anyone in trouble.
When I was still a child-like girl in the 2nd grade at St. Katherine's Academy, a sweet little 7-year-old with no more thought regarding sex than any other dumb kid at that age, I'd been approached by gorgeous Noelle Henderson.
Back then, dark-haired Noelle was a 10-year-old cheerleader at our school, a long-legged, tall and coltish slender girl with the very real beginnings of firm breasts and a rounded perfect ass to kill for.
She was genuinely beautiful in the classic sense, with a sweet face like an actual angel. Her large expressive brown eyes and bright smile even then drove boys and men wild.
I didn't know it at the time, but she'd already been willingly and enthusiastically participating in The Family Fun Club parties at our motel with both of her parents (and withmyparents!) for over a year. She was a real favorite there, too, a hot little preteen nympho famous for being fucked relentlessly all night by every member.
Yet still wanting even more of the same.
In fact, even though she was considered to be one of the very 'good girls' at our school, who only hung around with other 'good girl' types, Noelle was the single most oversexed girl I'd ever met. Then or now.
But I sure didn't know it at the time.
“Maureen, we need to talk,” she said softly to me one day at school, suddenly walking beside me in the hall. “Meet me in the second floor girl's bathroom at lunch. But don't tell anyone.”
I looked up to her, shocked that such an older and popular girl at St. Katherine's Academy would even know who I was.
Really. She was three years older than me, an eternity in grade school years, and spent her time with a crowd of older girls already making plans for getting into the proper college.
“Okay,” I said, nodding. “Are you sure it's me you want to talk to?”
I mean, maybe she was confusing me with another little 2nd-grader, a girl more in her own league. I was a pretty enough girl even then, I knew, and popular enough. And boys in my grade were beginning to notice me.
But that didn't mean I'd ever have a friend as beautiful or as popular or as old as Noelle Henderson herself.
“Don't worry,” the smiling 10-year-old told me. And she reached down and gave my small hand a quick squeeze, which surprised me. “I just want to talk privately with you, for a few minutes.”
I nodded, standing and watching her walk away, but wondered whatever in the world she could possibly have to say to me. As it turned out, it was about a million times more interesting than I ever could've imagined.
At St. Katherine's Academy, all the kids in all the grades in the entire school ate together in the huge cafeteria. So everyone else was busy with lunch when I slipped into the upstairs girls' bathroom.
“Hey,” Noelle said to me when she saw me. “Maureen.”
“Hi,” I said nervously. “I'm here.”
We were alone in the brightly lit tiled room.
There were four porcelain sinks with mirrors above them on one side, four stalls with closed gray doors on the other. Two old-fashioned paper towel machines were attached to the nearest wall, on the farther wall a machine which dispensed feminine napkins.
Noelle was standing in front of one of the sinks, with her well-formed butt resting against it.
“I appreciate you coming,” she started. “Do you know who I am?”
“Of course,” I smiled to her. “You're Noelle Henderson, one of the most popular and beautiful girls in the whole school…”
“Maureen!” she said, surprised. It even seemed she might have blushed. “I don't think I'm allthatgreat.”
We were both in our St. Katherine's schoolgirl uniforms, dark plaid skirts, crisp white blouses and dark blue knee socks. I had my blonde hair tied back with my usual blue scrunchie and in those days I was still wearing silver braces on my teeth.
“Well, everybody else thinks you are,” I informed her. “And so do I.”
She exhaled slowly then, shaking her head with a little smile.
“That's sweet of you to say,” she said. “Anyway, I thought we should get to know each other. I don't know if you're aware of it, but I'm averyclose friend of your mother and your father. And I've seen you around the motel-”
I gave her a look.
“Our motel?” I interrupted. “The Pink Flamingo?”
She nodded.
“I've been to some of your parent's secret parties out there,” she told me. “My mom and dad always take me. But I don't think you're supposed to know about them yet. You're too young.”
I could only stare at her.
Even at my young age, as a naive little 7-year-old, I was acutely aware thatsomethingwas going on at our motel every week. And sometimes a couple of times a week. But I was always told they were adult get-togethers, not anything I was to be concerned with. And that my bedtime was always 9 p.m. on those particular nights, instead of the usual 9:30.
Of course, I had my own television and DVD player in my room, so I'd often stay up later with the sound turned down low. But, in all that time, I never snuck out to see what was going on at the rear of our motel, in the larger connected suites.
After all, my parents told me not to.
“Secret parties?” I said to Noelle, not understanding. “Like, if they're secret, what do you do there?”
And besides, Noelle was only a bright little 10-year-old girl herself, not an adult, so why would she be allowed to go to any of my folks' adult get-togethers? It didn't make any sense, and I told her so.
“It's a little complicated,” the tallish young cheerleader explained. “I don't want to get into trouble, so if I tell you about it, you have to promise to keep it a secret. Do you think you could do that?”
I thought it over. Wow, this was getting weird. But I was definitely curious.
“Maybe,” I said slowly, not wanting to seem too eager. “But, I've never lied to my parents, so I don't know-”
Noelle stepped away from the sink then and took my two small hands in hers. She squeezed them, warmly, just like in the hall earlier. And I'll admit, it was an interesting sensation, having my hands held by another girl like that.
Especially one so popular. I thought I might even be blushing.
“You don't have to lie to them,” she promised. “Just don't volunteer that you know what I'm going to tell you. And show you.”