Vix's Licks Pt. 02 - Sex Stories

Vix's Licks Pt. 02

... part.

As I said before, she was like a second mum to me, as well as my one and only sexual partner. A decidedly odd, yet powerful, combination. Sexually, she was all I needed, but she was right; there was never going to be a future in it. I should never have let myself become so dependent. So dependent that I wasn't even looking for a real girlfriend.

I was thinking about this, and re-gathering my strength, when there was a tap on the door. 'Vix, darling, are you okay? You've been in there an awfully long time.' My room is far enough from theirs that my parents wouldn't have heard my sobs during the night, but I had been in there for 16 hours, with only two trips to my little bathroom next door, and they had started to worry.

'Yes. Come in, Mum.' I'm alright,' I lied. She opened the door and as soon as she saw me, she knew I'd been crying.

'What on earth's wrong, sweetheart?' She sat on the edge of my bed and I just threw my arms around her, clinging to her and bawling, like I did as a small child when I fell off my bike and skinned my knee. She held me gently, like mums do, until I quieted, then lifted my face up and said, 'C'mon, baby, what's happened? Tell your mom.

I swallowed hard. I knew the moment of truth had arrived. I looked at her earnestly. 'I've something to tell you, Mum. You and Dad.'

She looked concerned, then she got up, saying, 'OK. Come down and tell us over breakfast.' Then she kissed me on the forehead and went out and down the stairs, ...

... shouting to Dad, 'Jack, put the coffee on.'

I freshened myself up in my little bathroom, dressed, and tried to compose myself. This was going to be a big revelation, and I didn't really know how they were going to react.

Dad smiled at me with a hint of a question in his eyes as I sat down at our big kitchen table. We don't have family meetings as such in my family, but I always know, if anything is bothering me, I can sit at this big old table, pour out my problems and get a sympathetic ear. I wasn't sure about this time though.

I've been brought up to believe that honesty is the best policy, and that, whenever possible, it should be complete and unabridged. Dad even wrote a song about it, called "A Little Disclosure". So, that morning over coffee, I told them the whole story, with no omissions. The whole nine yards, as Mum would say.

I told them about my rubbish sex with Roy, my realisation that I liked girls, my crush on Lindi, and Mrs Knight at uni, even my confusing sexual feelings towards Mum. But the hardest thing was admitting I'd had a nearly two-year "relationship" with a lesbian prostitute 19 years my senior. A prostitute who I had, to some extent, fallen for, and who had broken my heart. I couldn't hold back the tears again.

This was a hell of a lot to take in, even for parents as open-minded as mine, and there was a stunned silence when I stopped talking. Dad looked pained, and it was Mum who spoke first. It wasn't what I expected.

'Oh honey, it's ...