I’m going to get right into it because this is still blowing my mind. It was summertime, and I had just turned eighteen with one more year of high school to go. So, now I’m an adult. I can do everything an adult can do but drink, so I get most of the benefits, but I also get all the blame. There are some serious consequences to my actions I had never thought about before, not really, and to tell you readers the truth, I don’t give a shit about the unfair consequences that could befall me now. A jury would understand, right? I would. But just because I don’t care, it doesn’t mean that my mother doesn’t. My mother cares. She cares a whole motherfucking lot.

As I’ve said, I’m eighteen years old, and so is my girlfriend, older than me by a month. I’ve known her for my entire life. She’s my neighbor. You see, we’ve been together for a long time. A long time and we’ve had opportunities to really be together, but we’ve held off, and why? Because we’re good people who do what our parents say–and that’s a problem–but we promised to take things slow, and so we did. And now, we’re both eighteen, and guess what? We can do whatever we want now, or so we had hoped.

You see, no one had had a problem with my relationship with Jenna–I’m Mark, by the way–not my mother, not my father, not Mr. and Mrs. Mason, not anyone, until Mr. Mason walked in on me with a mouth full of his daughter’s hairless pussy right after I turned eighteen. That was her first birthday present to me. Could you blame me… or her? Jenna was fucking hot, and I–we–were both in need of some loving. How could we not be?

We’re both teens, and porn was everywhere. Sex sells, and teens are supposed to resist their urges while under the onslaught of 13 Reasons Why, Euphoria, and Taylor Swift writing songs about every guy she’s taken between her legs (Does she still do that? I don’t know.) Then there’s Miley Cyrus being a whore (or she was a whore at one time), and Ariana Grande once talked about dick size and how being big was good, and then there’s social media oozing sex all the fucking time. You can’t watch a teen drama without someone getting fucked. If people were fucking at my age before the invention of TV, then why the fuck wouldn’t modern teens want to blow a load or two as often as possible? Sex is everywhere, and we like it. Hell, at eighteen, we need it.

Where was I? Oh, yeah, Jenna was fucking hot. There’s more to her than hotness, but she was fucking hot. She has long blonde hair, tan skin, an oval face, bright blue eyes, and perfect teeth. Her tits are over a handful in size, and her stomach drops straight down with an almost six-pack look that ends at the cut in her hips leading into the smooth skin of her mound and the bare lips below. She doesn’t like hair. She doesn’t want any. It gets in the way of her sexy bikinis and her even hotter panties. While her pussy is heaven, she has one hell of an ass. She has a soccer chick’s round butt, firm thighs, and long legs. You can’t beat that for sexiness.

Dad used to say, “She reminds me of your mother,” before Jenna entered high school, and sports thickened her body.

Earlier today, we were on her sofa, and she was wearing a black shirt with white trim, and printed across the front was the word EASY. She was also wearing a pink schoolgirl skirt that was way too short for school, and if a girl was going to wear that, she had better expect to be flashing her panties to the world. Lucky for me, Jenna doesn’t mind one bit. She was wearing the skirt for me. We were on her couch, and her panties were lying on her coffee table, and that’s when the lock on the front door rattled.

We parted in a hurry and went back to watching TV as her dad walked into the house. He greeted us–I could tell he was still pissed at me for eating his daughter’s pussy at midnight–then he went to the kitchen, and then he came back, and that’s when he grew silent. It was kind of freaky. We both looked at him, and we both noticed that his eyes were staring at the ultra-small, transparent panties his daughter had been wearing. This was right after he had caught me going down on his daughter and had told us both to knock it off until the real adults could discuss their children’s new superpowers–the powers to fuck, I guess.

So… ah shit.

“Jenna,” he said in a calm voice that was more unsettling than if he had yelled. “Put your panties back on right now.”

Jenna stood, grabbed them, and facing sideways to her father and me; she straightened her panties in her hands, then she lifted her right foot and put them through the strings of her leg hole, and then her left foot, and then she pulled them up her legs, fitting them into place. Her hips shuffled, and her skirt came up over her thighs, baring the sides of her hips to her father and me, along with a flash of her muff as her skirt flared when she adjusted the crotch against her softness.

Her dad left the room after that. I left the house shortly after, walking to my house next door. That night, my parents talked with Jenna’s dad, and Jenna’s dad told them that if this continues, he will end our relationship himself. He said the entire “I’m her father, she’ll do as I say while she lives under my roof,” spiel–what the fuck, right? Did he think his daughter didn’t have an appetite for cock?

Fuck him.

Fuck him!

That’s what Jenna and I said, but my parents agreed with his parents, especially my mother.

“Do you want to be like those teen parents on TV?” Mom asked. “They’re the lucky ones. Do you know how many teen parents have to put their lives on hold because they got pregnant too early.” She shook her head at me. “You know what? It stops now. Get through college, and then you have all the sex you want. If you don’t stop your behavior with Jenna”–Mom lifted her right hand and spun her forefinger around–“is gone. You’ll have to get a job. You’ll have to pay your fair share. No more free rides. Do you understand me?”

Fuck my parents, too–not in a bad way–just their idea of going along with Mr. Mason.

So, Jenna and I decided that late on my eighteenth birthday, we were going to fuck just to fuck our parents over. In hindsight, it was stupid to think that way, but when you’re young, you do stupid shit without thinking. Lucky for me, during the party, my mother had watched Jenna and me all night long.

We had the party at my house, nothing special, just a bunch of eighteen-year-olds running around in boardshorts and bikinis, grilling food, and drinking sugary liquids that we poured alcohol into on the sly. Mom watched us. First, from the outside, when the party had just started, then she went inside, and I could feel her green eyes on me from her upstairs bedroom. Jenna sat on my lap, and we kissed once, and Mom appeared outside less than a minute later to ask us if we needed anything.

We didn’t.

Several of my friends had told me to tell my mother to put on her bikini and join us, which led to me throwing them in the pool against their will, but that’s life for you when your mother was a MILF, and she was a MILF. When I was younger, before I became aware of my mother as a woman, I always used to tell her how beautiful she was, which she loved to hear. She thought it was cute, and I’d never fail to remind her how beautiful she was compared to everyone else. Then I discovered masturbation… and flirting with my mother, as my father called it–without telling me what flirting meant–came to an end.

My mother was tall and willowy, with smooth, light golden skin and long, layered, sun-blonde hair–flaxen hair descended from her Norwegian blood–that almost glints white in the sunlight. She has elegant features and high cheekbones, the kind that any fantasy fanboy may have imagined a regal elven queen to bear. She’s slender and tight, with a flowing body unobstructed by the cut of leanness that some CrossFit moms have going for them. Her breasts were just over a handful, while her butt was small, widening sideways from her hips like a pear. Her cheeks were round and as golden as the rest of her skin thanks to the sunbathing she did in her whale-tale, micro G-strings that I’m sure I’m not supposed to know about, but I did.

I haven’t seen her in them, but what kind of boy hasn’t rummaged through his mother’s panty drawer at least once in their lifetime? (A normal fucking boy, I’d guess.)

So, Mom left us once Jenna slid off my lap. The party continued until sundown when people started heading home. Jenna and I changed into shorts and shirts, then we watched a movie with my parents, cut some cake in a quiet ceremony around my dinner table with my loved ones, and then Jenna and I went up to my bedroom. Mom’s eyes followed us, but mostly they followed me, and Dad called us over to tell the both of us what Jenna’s father and my mother expected from us–A soldier-like dedication to their orders.

“You’ve waited eighteen years,” Dad said, “so what’re another four?” He lowered his voice to a whisper then. “Do well in college, and I bet you’ll only have to wait two more years.”

We nodded our heads, and we went to my room to say, “Fuck our parents,” in the most physical way possible.

I should have known that my mother wasn’t about to let that happen.


As soon as my bedroom door closed, Jenna and I pressed our lips together as we tumbled toward my bed. Our mouths opened, our tongues came out, and I slid my slippery appendage into the warmth of Jenna’s mouth. She uttered soft whimpers while our kisses melded together. I pushed her shirt above her tits and pulled her bra beneath them. My hands squeezed her breasts, maybe a bit hard, but she seemed to like it as she spread her legs for me on my bed, my cock pumping blood and plumping up to its full hardness just in time to spear the center groove between her legs. We dry humped each other, the cloth of my basketball shorts digging into the fuzziness of her cotton boy shorts and the softness beneath them.

“We have to be quiet,” I whispered as Jenna panted and moaned with a desperate need for my touch.

“Turn your music on,” she said.

“They’ll know,” I said. “It’s too obvious.”

I squeezed her tits against, then pinched her thick, peach-colored nipples between my thumbs and forefingers.

“Ooh,” she gasped.

I lowered my head, taking the right nub into my mouth and licking all around her areola. Jenna spread her knees wide and humped her hips up at me, sliding her cotton-covered muff against the head of my prick.

I moaned around her tit.

She moaned, pushing my head against her breasts.

I ground my cock into her muff meat as hard as I could.

“Shit,” Jenna whispered. “I’m so fucking wet for you, baby.”


Knock, knock, knock, my door rattled, and then the doorknob turned, but not much because I had locked it. Then someone–Mom, I already knew–knocked harder on my door and turned my lock like a panicked woman running from a serial killer.

“Mark, open this door!” Mom shouted. “Now!”

“Are you fucking kidding me,” I said, rolling off Jenna and sitting up. My cock sprung upward, turning my shorts into a big top circus tent.


“Give me a second,” I shouted back. “Fuck!”


“I’ll open it,” Jenna said, pulling her bra up and her shirt down. “Here, baby, cover that dick.”

She handed me a pillow that I placed over my lap, and for a moment, I thought there was a better way to hide my erection, but then I thought, Fuck it. Mom should know what she interrupted. Jenna skipped to the door as my mother banged on it again. She unlocked it, opened it, and Mom stormed in as if she could still catch us doing something illicit.

“What are you two doing?” Mom asked, swinging her gaze from me, to Jenna, back to me, and my lap. “Well?”

“I was just leaving,” Jenna said, leaving my room and calling over her shoulder, “Call me later.”

“Mark,” Mom said, “we need to talk.”

She shut the door, and I sighed as she came to sit next to me on the bed.

Great, just fucking great.

I was about to talk to my mother while sporting wood, and we both knew it.

How fucked up was that?


The first thing I noticed was that my mother had not changed out of her clothes from earlier: a pair of jeans and a white shirt. It wasn’t so late that she needed to change, but it was Saturday night, and she wasn’t going anywhere.

“I came here to tell you to leave your door open, and this is what I find,” Mom said, shaking her head at me.

I looked at her clothes and said, “You were coming up here no matter what. You could have told us to leave the door open on our way upstairs, but you wanted to catch us doing something.”

“I did not.” Mom looked at me, sitting on the bed with a pillow over my lap, and she frowned, then her eyes widened, and she looked away. Sighing, she walked to the bed and sat down near the end, facing forward and keeping her eyes off of me and my erection. “I came here hoping that you were doing as I had told you to do, but you weren’t, were you?”

“I’m eighteen.”

“And that’s still too young for today’s world. You don’t even know if you’ll be together forever.”

“We’re adults now,” I said, narrowing my brows. I hated it when my mother said something that made sense. I thought I’d be with Jenna forever, but did I know that for sure?

“That doesn’t matter.” Mom took a deep breath. “You may not understand it now, but one in-the-moment mistake could cost you years of your life. You may have to put off college. You may decide not to return. A baby could change the entire trajectory of your life. You don’t need to be sexual just because you’ve turned eighteen.”

“We haven’t had a chance to be sexual,” I said.

“Sexual means everything up to and including sex,” Mom said, turning a sideways glare on me. “Everything you do tempts you to do more, so that means no kissing, no touching, no looking at each other naked, and no sexy text messages.”

I laughed.

“I mean it,” Mom said. “I know how teenagers are with their phones.”

“Jenna’s dad isn’t serious,” I said. “She’d hate him for the rest of his life if he kept us apart. It’s a dad thing. It’ll pass.” By now, my hard-on had softened some. I turned on the bed as my cock lay in a tube-like state over my sack. I slid the pillow off to the side and crossed my legs on the bed, the bulge in shorts no longer as obscene as it had been before Mom had knocked on my door. “Trust me.”

“No.” Mom turned to me. “You trust me. You don’t want to be an eighteen-year-old dad.”

That was true, but that wasn’t going to happen. That only happened to irresponsible people, and Mr. Charles Mason–what an almost terrible name Jenna’s dad had–was going to have to accept the fact his daughter was growing up, and she was eager to join the adult world.

“I’m eighteen years old,” I said, and though I tried to mimic my father’s stern tenor, my next words still trembled, and my heart still sped up as I added, “I have needs, Mom.”

Mom laughed without humor.

“Can’t you go back to holding hands?” Mom asked. She faced me, her regal features hanging low, the way a puppy might after its master had given it a stern yell. “Waiting another four years is not that long when compared to the rest of your life.”

My mother was right, but fuck that, I had a cock to satisfy, and Jenna wanted sex as much as I did.

I shook my head.

“Can’t you watch porn?” Mom asked.

I laughed a little and said, “No,” while still chuckling.

“Can’t you,” Mom said, cringing, “just cheat on her?”


“Just a little?” Mom pressed her lips together, her face trembling. “No one has to know. I’ll help you find someone who Jenna will never meet. We’ll find you an older woman who doesn’t have to worry about pregnancy. I mean it, Mark: a mistake with Jenna could ruin your relationship, your friendship, and your lives.”

“I’m not cheating on Jenna,” I said, shaking my head. “How can you ask me that? That’s a crazy idea. Plus, I love–”

“You don’t even know what love is.” Mom’s eyes narrowed, and that sad kitty look took on a fearsome expression. “You’re doing this out of spite. We told you no, so you’re going to show us that you don’t have to listen to us anymore, aren’t you?”


“No,” Mom said. “I bet you would run off with the first woman who showed any interest in you.”

“She’d have to be one beautiful woman,” I said, laughing and trying to soften my words. Cheat on Jenna? Mom was crazy.

“How beautiful?” Mom leaned forward, looking me in the eye.

“She’d have to be,” I said, leaning forward and trying to keep my laughter in check, “as beautiful as you.”

Mom blinked.

I let my laughter escape my lips as I turned away from my mother’s gaze.

“And since there is no woman as beautiful as you,” I said, “I guess we’re going to have to hope that Mr. Charles Mason–I’ll call him Charles too now that I’m an adult–is bluffing about keeping us apart. He’s going to ruin his relationship with Jenna if he does.”

Mom stood, glaring at me, then she turned and headed for my door. I can’t be sure, but I thought I heard her mumble, “As beautiful as me.”

My mother wasn’t stupid.

How many blonde, sun-lit women with an inner glow and the regal bearing of a Lord of the Rings elf queen were walking around in the world within reach of us–that would also fuck me on a whim and couldn’t get pregnant?

None but her–and she could still get pregnant–not that I meant that she’d fuck me, that thought had never entered my mind. But there was no one as beautiful as my mother anyway, and so she was shit-out-of-luck when it came to convincing me to cheat on my girlfriend–or so I had thought at the time.


Mom’s words had reached me. I wasn’t deaf or completely stupid. Later, while alone, in the middle of the night, when the world was pitch black, and the weight of the future loomed over everyone, the skin-shivering and bone-chilling fear of living life as an eighteen-year-old dad hollowed out my insides, making it difficult for me to fall asleep.

It had taken a while.

Most of that fear had bled out of me by the time I had awakened. Later, the sight of Jenna in the afternoon and the feel of her lips helped me find my courage, but I still sat Jenna down to talk to her about my mother’s concerns.

“Fine, we’ll take it slow,” Jenna said between planting soft kisses on my lips, “but my pussy is getting fucked by you and that big dick of yours soon.”

My cock jumped, and soon would have meant right then if my mother hadn’t joined us in the living room. I didn’t even know what we were watching. We had stopped in the middle of choosing something from a streaming site involving laser swords and half-naked alien women with tails on their heads when Mom had joined us. We chose a movie, and I’m sure both of us hoped that Mom would get up and go away.