Mother teaches daughter’s boyfriend how to jingle her bells…It was Christmas evening, and Suzy and I were spending it with her mother because Suzy’s dad was out of town taking care of his sick father. I think Suzy’s grandfather was dying, but Suzy’d never been close to him. So, we came over to keep her company. Tomorrow, we’d go visit my mom and dad.
We were all in the living room drinking hot buttered rums, after we’d exchanged gifts, with Christmas music playing in the background.
Suzy and her mom look a lot alike in the face. They both have pixie cut brown hair, thin eyebrows, a thin nose, green eyes, and luscious lips (I’d always thought Susy’s best feature was her lips). But, from the personality perspective, they were opposites. Suzy is quite shy, and frankly, prudish. Her mom, on the other hand, was outgoing and gregarious. She was also a touchy feely kind of a person, unlike her daughter, who needed three feet of personal space, unless we were kissing. I exaggerate, but you get the idea. Of course, I’m sure the hot buttered rums had something to do with gregarious behavior. She’s had two for every one I’d drunk, and I have no idea how many she’d had before we arrived. She was beginning to slur her words when we first arrived, and it was getting worse with each rum she’d downed. Another difference between mother and daughter is that Suzy can’t hold her alcohol. Give her two drinks and she’s out. I looked over at her as I thought about her. Yep, she was out, though her eyes did flicker occasionally behind the eyelids. Probably REM sleep, I thought.
Probably the biggest difference though, is that Suzy’s nineteen, like me. Her mom is forty-five. She had C cups, but they rode lower on her chest than Suzy’s. Her hips were decidedly spread in the way that an older woman’s body ages – especially after having had a child. You could see the outlines of her more rebenesque behind because of the way her dress hung. Suzy had a much more refined, firmer, teen ass. I liked to grab a cheek in each hand as I kissed her luscious lips.
Mrs. French and I were sitting on the love seat, very close together, because Suzy had taken over the whole couch. She had her hand on the middle of my thigh. “How serious are you about Suzy?” she was inquiring.
“Ummmmm, I don’t know.” I flustered. “I’m only nineteen. I like her enough that we’re going steady. But, I’m way too young for marriage yet.” I said, a bit uncomfortably.
“Have you and Suzy fucked yet?” he said, pointedly.
I was shocked. “Mrs. French!”
“Oh, don’t be such a prude.” She slurred, overriding my protest.
I looked over at Suzy for some support, but she was out like a light, not REM sleep anymore, but the deeper sounder sleep. She was snoring quietly.
“Oh, don’t worry about her hearing you and waking up. She’s always slept like the dead. Now, answer my question.” she demanded.
“Well. Since we’re talking straight to each other (thankful for the two rums I’d had), the answer is no. I’ve got to second base a few times, but she won’t let me touch her down there.” I replied, just as pointedly back at her (I hoped).