Helen looked up from the papers she was shuffling at the
kitchen table when Mandi walked in. The fact that Mandi had
stayed out until after 11:00 p.m. indicated that either the dance
had gone remarkably well, or Mandi had hid out somewhere and
would try to bluff through a fictional description of the
experience. One look at Mandi's flushed face told Helen that
there would be no fictional tales tonight. "Well, how was the
dance?" she asked, archly.
"Oh, Momma!" Mandi gushed. "I met a boy-"
That was the idea, as I understood it..." Helen laughed.
"His name's Ricky, and he's so sweet and wonderful, and we
danced slow, and he's so hot I just CAME - right on the dance floor!"
"You WHAT!!" her mother exclaimed. "How?"
"We were slow dancing, and I was wearing this flimsy
thing," Mandi said, indicating her blouse. "My nipples got hard, but we just couldn't dance far enough apart to keep them off his chest. Then he started rubbing my back and sides..."
"And he played with your ass?" Helen was hot - literally -
for details. Her hand stole through the opening in her housecoat, and between her heavy thighs.
"No, Momma, he was a perfect gentleman. If anyone screwed
up, it was me! I was enjoying the feel of his hands, so I slipped closer to give him more room to work." Helen's left hand stole to her right breast, where she began squeezing and tweaking the nipple in time to the two fingers driving in and out of her wet gash. "Our legs got interlocked, and I kept banging into his thigh. I was soaking wet in no time!" Helen moaned quietly, working hard with her imagination and her hands to bring some satisfaction out of the fantasy her daughter was providing the details for. "After a couple of minutes, I started having these little tiny cums!" Mandi continued, "Like popcorn - just a quick flash, and my pussy would twitch. After a few seconds -pop- I'd have another!" Helen began to shake. "Momma, I've never had those - have you?" Helen shook her head 'No', gasping. She had two fingers squeezing her G spot, using the thumb riding her clit as an anchor, and her right nipple had grown to 3/4 of an inch. Mandi was enjoying telling the tale almost as much as Helen was enjoying listening. "Then they started coming closer together, and Ricky kissed me...Momma, I was tempted to trip him, pull off his jeans and sit on his hard cock - right there on the dance floor!" This statement had its desired effect: Helen's eyes rolled up, and she fell back over the chair arm, beginning to convulse. Mandi, knowing that relating being kicked off the dance floor would spoil things, stopped speaking. Helen was now spread wide in the chair, shaking uncontrollably as she neared completion. Mandi got a wicked gleam in her eye, and, wetting a finger, delivered the coup d'etat by quickly pinching her other nipple. Helen went stiff as a board, screamed "AAAUUUUUGGHH!!!" and nearly demolished the chair from thrashing in it. Excess lubricant gushed from her abused gash, thoroughly wetting the back of the housecoat, and dribbling over Helen's hand. Mandi twisted the nipple gently a few times, watched until her mother began to show evidence of contact with reality, and removed her hand.
"Oh, Baby, that was good!" Helen moaned. "How much of that
story was true?"
"Every word!" announced Mandi, primly, "I just waited to
finish. There I was, popping mini orgasms every 15 seconds or so, and he kisses me. I went totally nuts on him and tried to suck his tongue off!" Helen laughed, and Mandi giggled as she continued, "We stopped dancing altogether for the tongue duel, and the chaperones found us and ran us off the dance floor!"
"Oh, shit!" Helen gasped between chuckles. "Oh, that's
funny!"
"It wasn't then," Mandi countered, "And worst of all, I
SOAKED Ricky's jeans with love juice! Talk about embarrassing!"
Helen roared with laughter. It took her some time to get
control. Finally, she gasped "How'd he take it?"
Mandi smiled fondly, remembering. "Very gallantly. He said
he'd just as soon drown in the stuff. He said he didn't plan to wash his jeans!"
"He sounds like quite a catch!" Helen declared. "Are you
seeing him again, or is this a one time thing?"
"He asked if we could do something tomorrow." Mandi
replied, diffidently, then firmed up. "Momma, I've GOT to get some new clothes! I'll never keep him in that 19th century wardrobe I've been sporting!"
Helen smiled. Mandi had advanced a couple of light years
out of her shell in just one night! Helen could kiss the boy for that, if for nothing else! "We'll see what we can do tomorrow afternoon, dear. I noticed that you didn't go out tonight in your usual clothes."
Mandi nodded. "Dolores told me to dump my 'Mother Hubbards'
for the dance. She practically dictated this outfit!"
"And events have proven her right, too!" Helen chuckled.
"Well, I've got to go to bed - school tomorrow," Mandi
said, yawning.
"All right, Dear. You'll wear jeans, tomorrow, I think.
You've proven yourself attainable and are now more than desirable to this boy. He'd have to be dead not to be looking to get into your panties. You'll need a serious barrier to slow him down. This will give you time to pick up some new skirts and dresses."
"He's definitely not dead, Momma. In fact, he sports
several hard inches - I felt them against my thigh tonight!" declared Mandi, grinning.
"All the more reason to insert a couple of obstacles
between what he wants and what you want," Helen observed. "Make him earn it - he'll appreciate it more!"
"Okay, Momma. G'Night!" Mandi turned, and headed for her
room.
"Good night, Dear." Helen resumed her paperwork.
