A daughter is caught in a threesome by her mother

There can’t be anything worse than being 18 and having
your mother catch you fucking your boyfriend right?

Wrong. Mom caught us alright, but she not only caught
me, she caught my cousin, Ann, too. We were both in my
bed, with my boyfriend. She walked in just after Jim
came in Ann’s pussy, and Ann continued to suck my clit
for about 10 seconds before she was aware that, as she
put it, “the jig was up.”

Mom was pretty cool, since we were both 18, and Jim was
20. But she made Jim leave, and then told us to meet
her in the living room after we got ourselves dressed.

Mom and Dad divorced when I was eight, so she had taken
the time to explain sex to me at an early age, and even
get me on “the pill” when I turned 15, telling me that
she wasn’t condoning sex at an early age, but she knew
all too well what urges would be stirring within me.
Mom was only 17 when I was born, and she didn’t want me
to go through the same things.

Now, I was afraid that her “cool” would evaporate,
having seen me let Ann lick my pussy.

She started out tell us that she thought we were being
reckless, and that we should be old enough to know how
to protect against being “discovered” like that. She
went on about having “unprotected” sex, even though she
knew Ann was on the pill. Her cool had gone, but she
wasn’t really pissed off, just a little bit irritated.

We were told to go to our rooms, and Ann went into the
guest room, while I plopped on my own bed. Mom had said
something about figuring out the proper “punishment” to
“teach us a lesson”. I was too young to be sentenced to
dishpan hands, and the idea of spending my summer
dragging around a vacuum cleaner and washing windows
didn’t appeal to me, either.

I heard Mom make a few phone calls from the front of
the house, and then go into her study. The clacking of
her computer keyboard could be heard, and then the
printer’s buzzing. Not long afterwards we were called
into the hall, and Mom gave us a couple of forms and
ballpoint pens.

“Answer these questionaires, honestly! I’ll give you
thirty minutes.” she said. The way she emphasized the
word “honestly” made me curious. We were sent back into
our rooms, alone, to answer the questions.

The form was a sex-quiz, and I thought that she was
trying to see how much we knew. The first few were
easy.

“Have you ever had intercourse? If so, how many times
(approx).”

Then, “Do you masturbate? If so, how often?”

As I went down the list, answering somewhat honestly
(yes, more than 10, yes, twice a week, and so on), I
stopped at the next few questions.

“Have you ever put anything in your rectum? What?”

“Have you ever had anal sex? How many times? Did you
like it?”

“Have you ever had oral sex? Give or receive? Did you
like it? Why?”

“What is your favorite position? Why?”

“What is your favorite sexual fantasy (briefly)?”

“Have you ever had sex with another woman? Did you like
it?”

“Have you ever had sex with more than one or two people
at a time?”

You get the idea. There were almost thirty five
questions, and with

just thirty minutes, you had to answer truthfully, or
say no to them just to get through them all.

Mom lied. We got forty minutes. She collected the forms
and told us to wait in our rooms. About ten minutes or
so later, she called Ann into her bedroom and talked to
her for about fifteen minutes. Then she called me in,
with Ann returning to her room, looking sheepish.

“Darling,” Mom began, “I’m glad you enjoy sex, but you
need to know how to treat it. It’s not the most
important thing in the world, you know.”

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