Teenage sex slave
I wasn't really listening to Mom. But I'd heard the same old thing so many times. I was bored. We were sitting at the breakfast table and my right hand was in my lap. Mom talked and talked.
Slowly, without really thinking about it, I edged the hem of my skirt up and put two fingers against the warm, plumpness of my cunt-mound. I could feel the dampness through my panties. I moved one finger until it pressed the crotch piece up between my outer lips.
"… this trouble you keep getting in," Mom said. "There's no reason for it at your age Jerilyn. You're seventeen. You have everything a girl could desire. I know you missed having a father… that was tragic that he died before you could remember. But it was even harder on me." Cathryn sipped tea and put the cup down without making a sound. I never could figure out how she did that.
"… but we're very well off. I try to be understanding. I just can't guess what gets into your mind to make all this trouble at school. You must treat your teachers with respect. Even if you don't agree with…"
"They're a bunch of dummies," I snapped. My finger was getting a little slick with my cum-juices now. I stretched the silken crotchband to one side so I could wiggle a fingertip into the heat of my slit. I had to close my eyes for a second. But Mom didn't even notice. She was jabbering on and on.
"… and the company you keep. That Jenkins girl. I always thought she was maladjusted. I'd rather you find some nice boys to date. Why don't you ever date, Jerilyn?"
"Huh?" My eyes flashed open. I hadn't heard a word my mother had said. Because the way my cunt was starting to tingle made it hard to concentrate on anything else. I could even get a slight whiff of my musky juices as I worked my finger gently back and forth. I was panting and having a hard time covering my obvious excitement.
"Is something wrong with you, Jerilyn? You look flushed…"
"No… I'm fine. I didn't hear what you said." Cathryn got up and put her napkin beside her teacup. She had on a flowing breakfast gown. It was her own creation. An original. She'd made a lot of money on that one. She was so damned smart. I mean, how many girls could say that their mothers were as smart as mine? A fashion designer. A self-made woman.