I’m not your typical mom, and I know people might judge me, but I kinda have to brag, a little.
I had what you might call a “Helicopter mom.” The kind that waited up, and always asked me where I’d been, who with, especially when I was late. I hated it, and swore to myself never to treat my daughter the same way when she became a teenager.
That day came sooner than expected, when she came home, pulled down the hood of her jacket, and hung it up bye the door. It was raining, so I came out to the hall, and asked her how her day was. That’s all, but then she said “Fine,” and went down the hall to the kitchen.
That’s when I saw it, white streaks in her hair, and even smelled the distinctive odor of semen, as she walked past. “I’m really hungry, so what are we having to eat?”
It was early in the afternoon, so. “I haven’t really given it any thought, but.” Where have you been, what have you been doing, and whom? “Huh.”
“What’s wrong, mom.”
“Nothing’s wrong, you’ve just. Got something in your hair, so you better go wash up.” While she was in the shower, I tried to think. She was hungry, so I ordered Chinese, her favorite is chicken, and vegetables in white sauce, while I tried to think how to ask, without sounding like my mother.
She came out in a towel, with another twisted up around her hair, so she washed it, but she wouldn’t look at me, and she was blushing.
“Look, when I was a little older than you.”
“I know, mom. You’re 27, so you must have had me in high school, and I’m almost 13.”
“Well, where did you get that in your hair?” Technically, my mother never had any need to ask my that, because I would never return home with my hair covered in cum.
She shrugged, “Boys.”
“Obviously, I.” Start over. “I just want to make sure you avoid some of the mistakes I’ve made.”
“Well, you’re not grandma, so.” She giggled, and shook her head. “She would never understand.”
“No, but we don’t live with her any more, so you know that you can tell me anything.”
“You’re like my best friend!” She giggled, and opened up. “They’re seniors.”
“High school seniors?” She nodded.
“Yeah, and all 18, so they’re starting a website.”
“A pornographic sight?”
“Mom, you want to hear this or not?”
“I’m sorry, for interrupting. Go on.”
She’d gone to her purse, which she left on the kitchen table, and pulled out her phone.
“They didn’t take pictures.”
“Of course they took pics, they’re amateur porn-stars.” She showed me.
“Of you?”
“No, mom.” She rolled her eyes, “I’m 12, if they took pictures of me, then they’d go to jail for child porn, no matter how mature I look.” It’s true, the women in my family, including my mother, aunts, and sisters all started puberty early.
Well, 9 is on the early end of precocious puberty, there were other girls in 4th grade that I could talk to about girl issues, the 5th and 6th graders would even let us join them when we started showing enough to wear bras, but now she’s the 6th grader, in B cups. I know exactly the kind of attention you get for that.
However, I grew up in the 90s, when Pagers were a big deal, and guys would show off as if that ment they had money, were drug dealers, or pimps depending on how bad the circle they ran with was, but the real Gangsters didn’t go to school, they had business to take care of. The ones in school were posers, but the point is that in the 90s, we didn’t have smart phones, with the internet, and 24/7 access to all the porn on the internet in every pocket.
She showed me, “Here.” [The Gangbang Boys] “They gave me a free subscription, if you want to look.” She tapped in her login, and password.
[Lonely2002] In the top right corner. For her birth year, which would make her 18, if she was born in 2002, instead of 2008.
“They always use rubbers, and they’re saving up for vasectomies, because they don’t want to have kids, and to have to pay child support.”
Her father, well. He’s not really a father to her. He’s a sperm donor, of course he has a family, the same wife he always had, and now kids of their own. If I’m supposed to be upset, and punish my daughter, for having sex with 3 18 year olds, then let me tell you, I’m not a fucking hypocrite, all right?
I mean, I never had sex, with 3 18 year olds at once, but if the name Gangbang Boys didn’t give it away. “Huh!” I blinked, and looked up, but she was gone. Without so much as I’m gonna go put some clothes on, she just left me with her phone, and her favorite porn stars.
“Hey, hun?”
“Yeah mom? I’m just getting dressed.”
“What’s your password?”
“Why?”
“I don’t need to pry, but I just wanted to login on the computer, so we have a bigger screen.”
“Okay,” she came out, and handed me the towels with damp hair. In her underwear, she went into the office. Of our 3 bedroom apartment. I’m a single mother, of an only child, so I can have an office, in the spare bedroom.
There was a knock at the door, so I went to get dinner, blushing madly with my daughter looking at teenage gangbang porn right down the hall, so I didn’t invite him in to put it down in the kitchen, instead I signed for a big tip, and carried it back.
“Oh good,” she ran out, “I’m starving!”
She took the bags in the kitchen. “Did you get my favorite. The chicken, and white sauce, with white rice.”
“I know,” she likes to soak up the sauce with the rice, but I was distracted. So, while she broke apart a pair of chopsticks, and got a knife out to trim the splinters off the end, I went in, and sat down in front of the wide screen.
The opening menu had thumbnails, and categories:
[Bi Guys] “Huh!” A teenager giving head, while another guy stands cropped at the waist, dripping over his shoulder with cum running down his chest, and abs.
[Cheating MILFs] An older woman, older than I. laying back in a negligee, with her legs spread, a hairy muff, and trying to fit 2 rubber clad cocks in her mouth at once.
[College Parties] With Girls Gone Wild up on a table, getting sprayed down with beer for a wet tee shirt contest.
“Huh,” at least they practice safe sex.
[Cuckholds, and Wifey] The man, peeking around the corner, holding his dick out of his open fly, and watching them in the bedroom, with his wife.
The list went on to [Divorced, and Horny] but, Click! I suppose it’s a pretty common fantasy, just going by all the storylines on soaps, reality shows like real housewives, and gossip around the club. The young mother’s club, we have a sort of support group, where we can bitch about the social stigma of teen pregnancy. The difficulties of dating with children at home, and go on girl’s night to the male strip club, but I never had a husband to cheat on.
So, for me, I suppose a big part of it is having a man to come home to. Preferably one that’s cool enough about raising another man’s child. I tried dating, and I don’t know which is worse. Going out with a man, only for him to lose interest when he finds out, or that I’m not a virgin.
The way I look, I’m 27, going on 28, but a side effect of starting puberty in 4th grade is I finished it, before I turned 15. I had Melanie, and that really did something to my bust. Even after she weened, I was left with a nice pair of 38 Cs, that I’m proud to say don’t even sag much, but I still look incredibly young for my age.
Which is nice, but the worst are the ones that seem a little Too interested, in my daughter.
“Huh!” The lust in their eyes when I showed them pictures on my phone. Nothing sexually suggestive, in the least. I don’t keep pictures of her in swimsuits any more. Not after I saw too many reactions, looking at her in her swimsuits, when she was as young as 8.
I shook my head, she’s not, my baby any more. I even started tearing up, when I realized that all too soon, she’d be graduating, and starting a life of her own. Almost half my life, I’ve spent raising her.
“This egg roll for you?”
“Snh, yeah.”
“Oh mom. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I hugged her, while I still had the chance, “I’m just so proud of you.”
“Well, which one do you think is the hottest?” She carried her bowl back to the sofa, where we watched movies, and TV together.
“Uh, which one is this?” I turned back to the screen, and rolled the chair aside to point.
“His real name, or his porn star name?”
“It doesn’t matter, but he’s pretty well endowed.” She nodded, scooping up rice, and white sauce, then licking some errant grains off her lips. Still in her underwear, but her hair dry, and unbrushed. With that bed head look, as if she’d just been. Well, she just came home, not even an hour ago, with at least 1 load in her hair, and if that was 1 load, then it was quite a large one.
“Mom, I’m still a virgin.”
“You are?”
“Yeah, of course I am.” She didn’t remind me of her age again, but she’s almost a teenager, and I try not to judge her hypocritically.
“Well, what about.” I waved back at the wide screen. “Them?”
“Well,” she rolled her eyes, “They just gave me a bukkake. Once, and you mind if we talk about it, a little?”
“No, of course not. I’m here for you sweety, and you know you can tell me anything.”
“Huh, well.” She looked down, and just stared at her bowl. More than long enough to realize that she wasn’t looking at her rice, she was avoiding eye contact, and the question: “Did grand dad, ever.”
She looked up, and just left that question open. She shook her head, and set the bowl down. “I’m not hungry any more.”
“Honey, I.” Choked up, and followed her to her room. Across the hall, she tried to slam the door, but I caught it. So, she jumped halfway across the room, and buried her face in the pillow.
“Huh,” I sat down on the end of the bed, and hesitated to touch her back. Especially in her bra, and panties, so there was nowhere to touch her that wouldn’t be inappropriate.
Remembering my father, well. Look, some things run in the family, and I’m not just talking about my mother saying she just wanted me to avoid making the same mistakes she did, in high school. Which made me feel like a mistake, and my Melanie.
“Yeah.” She turned over. “I hate to ask, but. What did he do to you?”
“Well, he just looked at me, until we moved out, but I didn’t think it was all that creepy, until we moved out.”
That look, that always turned me off. Whenever I showed a date pictures of my daughter playing in the sprinkler, or the kiddy pool, out at the lake, or at camp lined up with her swim team. All those girls, young girls, proudly posing, and smiling with their medals from winning first place in the city.
I nodded, and let out a sigh of relief. I didn’t move out of my parent’s house until I finished college, because my mother. In spite of everything, she took care of her for me, while I finished school, but my parents. They met in high school, and she had to drop out to have me. So, she never went to college, but also, even today she’s only middle aged. Petite, and young looking for her age, so she could pass for my older sister, or at least that was the most common compliment, that set her off.
I had to sigh with relief, when I thought that’s all he did. Look a her, the way no father should look at his daughter, or grand-daughter.
“Huh, now whenever we go back to visit, he always comments on how much I’ve grown.”
I blinked, and wiped my cheek. “Snh, yeah.” That’s when I noticed the way boys started looking at me, and even some men. Some of my father’s friends, including her father. The sperm doner, the man that cheated on his wife, to take my virginity. When I was still in 8th grade, middle school. So I could have the baby over the summer, and start high school as a teenage mother.
For all my mom’s cock blocking, I couldn’t have boy friends. Be friends with boys, let alone bring them over to the house. Let them stay the night, and sleep with them, but my father. “Sh!” She hugged me, and we cried together.
He could have friends over, they could get drunk, and pass out. Or pretend to pass out, only to come in my room later, and dad. Told them, look at my daughter. My beautiful daughter, and how much she’s grown. Filled out, my bra size. What kind of father invites men over to tell them his daughter’s bra size?
“Huh!”
“It’s okay mom. He never did anything.”
“He did enough. He looked.”
“Well, a little more than that.”
I tensed up, and she felt me, bracing myself.
“He also showed me.”
“His, penis?”
“Well, how hard he got, and what a man does when he sees a young lady that turns him on. He also asked me if I had any friends I might like to bring over, but I told him no.”
I hugged her, “Good.”
“He didn’t molest you, too?”
“Huh, no. He just looked.” But he always liked them young, or at least young looking. Like my mother. Then me, and my friends, and now Melanie, and her friends.
“I don’t want to put them through any of that.”
So, you mothers out there. Try to protect them, the best you can, but don’t be disappointed when they get minds of their own. Go through rebellious stages, and find themselves in trouble. Hang out with the wrong crowd, and maybe get talked into things before they’re ready.
Because there are boys like out there, you can’t watch them 24/7, and you have to let them go, live their own lives eventually. But I have to warn you: It’s not the strangers you have to worry about. It’s the ones you know, and you have to trust, that get years to prep them for willing abuse.
That’s what it is, abuse. That’s what we are, victims of abuse. No matter how subtle it may be, what excuses they make, or how many men call me a SJW for saying this, but you mustn’t blame yourself. It’s their fault, the abuser’s. Not you.
“Huh, you think your boyfriends.”
“Oh, they’re not my boyfriends, they’re not anything to me. They’re just fuck buddies at best.”
“Huh, well you think they might like to meet me?”
“Yeah,” she jumped up, and bounced on her knees next to me. “That would be awesome!” Giggling.
“Snh, yeah.” I could really use a gangbang about now.
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