The Family BBC - Chapter 7 - Sex Stories

The Family BBC - Chapter 7

... women."

"How old are you, young lady?" Leland suspected my husband and daughter were talking.

"Fourteen." Peg looked at him like he was made of cheese. She didn't dislike cheese but was trying to eat sensibly. For a teen girl, that meant french fries, plain turkey burgers, and low fat chocolate milk.

I didn't hear their discussion until when George related it to me, as an example of how dangerous, Leland might be. At the time, I was trying to keep track of our black guest, my son, and his icky friend.

Trent moved closer to Ida. "You've got a great body -- for soccer!" The boy had terrible pick up lines and worse timing. She was about to kick the ball but totally missed when Trent spoke.

"Great kick, Ida!" My son laughed.

"Go away!" She told Trent. He went over to Ridley and wished him, "Happy Birthday, Earthling."

I returned to Peg and George. I puffed, "Kids."

"Yeah, kids." Peg tried to sound as judgmental.

I expected her to say more. Nothing left my daughter's lips without a snide comment. Instead of talking, her eyes darted between me and Leland. Her expression darkened, her mind burning glucose as if trying to solve an impenetrable puzzle.

Leland remained on his best behavior as the evening turned into night. He had George fetch a bottle of beer occasionally. He 'asked' me to fix him a platter for supper. Peg was taking note of everything the old, black man said and did. I tried to act only like a good host, but my lack of a bra had set ...

... off many suspicions for her.

At one point during the party, when everyone else was eating burgers and dogs, she cornered me alone in the kitchen. "Mom, did you know you're wearing the same colors as Mr. Jones?"

"Really?" I mocked her. "Maybe I should take this off." I wanted her to realize how intrusive she was acting.

Peg wasn't used to me standing up to her. The incident of the slap was mostly behind us. I used to roll over at her whim, but she was learning that her mother's backbone was getting stronger. That only added to mystery of Mr. Jones' unexpected appearance at her brother's party.

Like a lost, conspiracy theorist, she thought everything was connected to everything else. But she was wise enough to stick to something she knew for certain. "And why aren't you wearing bra, Mom. You look ridiculous. Don't try to sluff me off again."

I thought quickly. "If you must know, I just had the urge to be less stiff and proper. That's I'm wearing colorful things. It's just a conincidence that Mr. Jones' shirt has purple in it."

Peg seemed to accept that, but then her eyes bulged out and zeroed in on my skirt. "You didn't."

"Didn't what, Dear?" I called her bluff.

"Never mind. There's no way you'd do that." She nearly ran back outside to be with her friend and her dependable, predicable, manipulatable father.

After supper, our son was allowed to open his presents. Aaron's gift was something beyond nice. "MOM! It's a SteamDeck!" His jaw remained opened, ...