Author: Lizard69
Title: Girlfriends
Part: Part 6
Summary: Is it better to have a girlfriend, or be one?
Keywords: Mb bg Fdom

   This is a work of fiction.  If you have trouble with the boundary
between fact and fantasy, don't read it.  If the story codes following the
title freak you out, don't read it.  If I mis-coded drop me a note through
the author email link at ASSTR.  Do not under any circumstances forward
this file to anyone that hasn't specifically requested it.  In case you
haven't figured it out yet this is intended as *adult* entertainment.  Do
not allow it to be accessed by minors.  If you have inadvertently
downloaded it in a jurisdiction where such material isn't legal please
delete it immediately.  Do not re-post in whole or in part without this
notice.  Do not repost on any "for profit" site without my specific written
permission.  Copyright 2013 by Lizard69.

Girlfriends Part 6 (Mb bg Fdom)
Lizard69



   Timmy had to ignore everything else and concentrate on putting one foot
in front of the other to get from his room to where Harold and his mom were
seated at the kitchen table.  What surprised him the most was that he
actually could do what she had asked.  This was the first time his mom had
seen him in a skirt.  The videos didn't really count.  He hadn't dressed up
for *her* and didn't even know he was on camera at the time.  Walking up to
some queer that he was supposed to, "show a good time", would have been
impossible a month ago.  Timmy knew what was on the videos his mom showed
Harold.  A good time with this guy wasn't going to involve sitting around
playing cards...  unless the betting was something like, "I'll see your two
shoes and raise a blouse." Oh god!  *Wrong* thing to think about!  Boys
underwear with this stuff would be too weird and he still didn't own any
panties.  A familiar sensation told him that any minute now Harold and his
mom were going to notice the front of his skirt wasn't hanging quite right.

   Better to get the guy somewhere private before she saw what was
happening.  Unless?  NO!  She couldn't expect him to...  Not in front of
his *mother*.

   "Uh.  Hi."

   "Hello Timmy.  Your mom has told me a lot about you, probably more than
she should have.  Try not to let it bother you.  You're a lot closer to
normal than you think."

   "Yeah.  Sure.  Right now I'm thinking one of us is either blind or
crazy. Uh, would you like to see my room?"

   He really shouldn't have looked back as they left the kitchen.  His mom
wasn't watching them.  She sat at the table sipping coffee, staring at the
screen of her laptop.  It was the odd little smile on her face that gave
him a creepy suspicion that he *really* didn't want to know what she was
looking at.

   Timmy had never thought his bedroom door was noisy.  It wasn't really
that loud this time.  But the click as Harold closed the door behind them
seemed to echo in the stillness that followed.  While they both knew what
was going to happen the silence got long enough to be uncomfortable before
either of them figured out what to do next.

   "Mom told you I'm not gay, right?"

   "Uh, actually I'm the one who told her that you might not be.  The way I
understand what she explained to me is that you're using role play to
explore some fantasies.  One that you find particularly hot right now is
some straight guy being so horny to fuck a young girl that if he can't get
the real thing, he'll use you instead.  That right?"

   "I guess."

   "So, what about your mom?"

   "My mom?"

   "Maybe I shouldn't be the one telling you this.  I'm sure you've heard
the old line about how people who live in glass houses shouldn't throw
stones.  There's a couple things I've noticed about your mom that maybe
you're too close to see.  First is that you're the most important person in
her life.  So much that outside of you and work she hardly has a life. 
That isn't entirely a good thing.  I'm sure it feels like she's smothering
you sometimes but that's nothing compared to how it would be if she wasn't
trying really hard to give you some room to be yourself.  Trust me.  If she
wasn't trying so hard, by the time Bob picked you up you would have been
ready to do whatever he wanted as long as he promised *not* to take you
home.

   "The other is the sex thing.  She's a little crazy on the subject but
that isn't surprising.  When it comes to sexual ethics the whole damn world
is nuts.  Between religion, local customs and law it's like everybody has a
different set of rules they should follow.  The only thing all the
different sets of rules have in common is that no sane person could live by
them.  So people say they live by the set of rules that the people around
them claim to be using, at least in public.  Then they follow a different
set in private.

   "Your mom was both lucky and cursed.  When her mom discovered Mary was
sexually active, instead of punishing her for failing to live by an
impossible set of rules she, uh, supervised .  Technically that made her an
accomplice in the sexual abuse of a minor.  The kid, your mother, wasn't in
a position to complain and might have decided to go with the flow in any
case.  Now the same situation is playing out one generation later with a
twist.

   "If she caught you with Debbie when she came back for her purse that
morning, you might have been scolded but in the long run it would have been
something to laugh about.  Getting caught with a boy your own age would
have been even less of a problem once you got through the lecture on
protecting your health and reputation.  Bob came very close to sitting in a
jail cell while the cops asked you way too many embarrassing questions. 
The only thing that saved his ass was you begging him to, "make you be a
girl".

   "Oh my fuggin' God!  She walked in early enough to hear that?"

   "Yeah, and it threw her completely off stride regarding how to handle
the situation.  Up until then she described herself as a hen with one
chick. Suddenly she was raising a duckling.  She loves you more than anyone
but if she could turn back the clock and choose whether she would have a
boy or a girl, knowing she could only have one, she'd have had a daughter.
Then, by walking in on you and Bob, she discovered that in some weird way
she did have a girl, at least part time under certain conditions.  She's
going to deal with most of your private life the way an average parent
would, keeping an eye on the situation and ignoring it unless things get
out of hand."

   "Really?"

   "Yeah, but don't get too happy too soon.  She's going to deal with your,
uh, 'girl time', the way her mother dealt with her.  She plans to make sure
you get all the cock you could want and maybe a little more, while you
develop the skills to discretely hook up with appropriate partners."

   Timmy shivered as Harold moved in behind him, lightly resting one hand
on his shoulder while the other slipped under the back of his skirt.  He
didn't try to pull away as the queer began to fondle his naked ass.

   "You don't have to do anything.  If some homo tried to rape her son,
your mom would call the cops to haul away whatever is left when they
arrive. But nothing would please her more than to have her little girl
sexually serve a man mom has selected.  You don't have to like it.  She
might even enjoy it more if she thinks you're only doing it because she
asked you to.  I certainly don't expect you to like me.  I'll try not to be
too rough, or laugh too loud if you cum while I'm having my way with you.
You will eventually, if we do it often enough that I can train you how to
please me the most.  This first time I was ready to settle for a blow job
but I see your mom was thoughtful enough to leave a jar of lube on the
night stand.  The quickest way for you to get through this would be to get
on all fours with your ass near the edge of the bed so I can do you from
behind standing up."

   Timmy was on his way to the shower while Harold and his mom were still
chatting at the front door.  It hadn't been *too* rough, kneeling on his
bed while a pervert flipped up his skirt and pulled his ass back onto a hot
hard cock.  It hurt at first and he'd be plenty sore if it had lasted much
longer.  Mostly he felt used and, well, shocked, that his own mother could
want him to be used this way.  The worst part though, was that his own cock
was about as hard as it ever got.  He didn't particularly want to jerk off
but this stiffy wasn't going to wilt any time soon unless he did something
about it.  He had a chance to regret that decision later when his mom
passed him in the hall.  At least she started to pass him.  He was still
damp, wrapped in a towel, when she grabbed him by the chin and made him
look her in the eye.

   "Harold said you were hard as a rock when he finished with you.  It
looks like you took care of that in the shower.  That's OK this time.  You
might want to remember in the future that it's more enjoyable for the men
who have you, if they can watch you having physical pleasure as well."

   He stood there in shock for a minute as she continued on her way.  By
the time he'd finished dressing and left to meet Debbie his blush had faded
and he had trouble believing he'd really heard her say that.  Did his mom
actually expect him to masturbate while some creep was raping him?  And if
the idea was really that offensive why was he getting hard again thinking
about it?  Oh well, it could be worse, at least Debbie would think he was
happy to see her.

   *****

   "Oh wow!  She really did that?  Laid out girl clothes and a jar of lube?
She actually picked a guy for you to do it with?"

   Debbie looked out across the river that ran through the park.  Timmy was
her first real boyfriend and she trusted him.  All the other boys who knew
what that creep had done with her got weird about it.  They either treated
her like some kind of cripple, or like they wanted to get in line.  Some
managed to do both.  Timmy was different.  He didn't pretend it never
happened or that it wasn't important.  For better or worse what happened
was a part of her now.  But he seemed to agree with her that it was only a
part, and the rest of the things that made her Debbie were important too.
She was ready to tell him things she wouldn't tell anyone else, but how
much was he ready to hear?

   "Timmy?  Don't talk about what I'm going to tell you with anyone else,
OK?"

   "OK."

   "Back when the creep was doing stuff to me, it was always scary and
embarrassing, and, well, degrading.  I mean like, he had this important job
and everybody liked him.  He was always helping people and getting awards
for stuff he did.  There was even this volunteer thing with neighborhood
kids.  A few of them showed up at the trial to tell the judge how he was
such a nice guy and never did anything with them.  So if this wonderful guy
got me alone somewhere and bad stuff happened it couldn't be his fault,
right?"

   "Oh shit..."

   "It gets worse.  You're going to think I'm really terrible, or stupid,
maybe both.  The first time it caught me completely by surprise.  He knew
exactly what he wanted while I didn't know what creeps did to kids.  He was
sitting there with me standing next to him.  He pulled my pants down, took
out his cock, and showed me how to jack him off.  At the time I didn't even
know I was being molested.  I can't believe now that I was ever that dumb.

   "I had the usual instructions about not talking to strangers, not
letting people see my swimsuit places, not playing games that involved
taking off clothes.  There was also all the other stuff a kid learns about
adults.  Things like, 'just do what you're told I don't have time to
explain right now', and, 'you don't have to like him but he's a friend of
your parents and being rude to him is the same as being rude to them'."

   "Yeah, we're supposed to be invisible unless we're being polite and
helpful.  Do as you're told.  Don't talk back.  Don't hang around when
they're talking about adult stuff.  Don't *ever* tell one adult what other
adults are saying about him, unless you want all of them calling you a
liar. Then if one of them makes you do something creepy or embarrassing
you're supposed to make a big fuss and tell the whole world about it as
soon as you can.  Only you're supposed to know what the bad stuff is
without being told.  If it doesn't feel right you're supposed to tell.  But
if your mom is telling one of her friends about this really embarrassing
mistake you made because you were too young to know any better, you're
supposed to suck it up when they laugh about you being so *cute*."

   "Uh-huh.  He didn't try to pass it off as a game or talk me into playing
with him.  I was standing sort of sideways so he couldn't see much of
anything.  The way he was guiding my hands on his cock with one hand was so
creepy I hardly noticed the other going up and down my back up under my
tee-shirt.  It was scary at first but he kept talking to me, calm and
quiet, about how only a few grownups needed this kind of special favor and
the other adults wouldn't like him if they found out he was one of those.
He was really sorry about pushing me to do stuff but guys like him were
only allowed to do it with certain special girls.  There weren't many guys
like him.  They still outnumbered the special girls by more than a dozen to
one.  He was super lucky to find me living so close.  He was even luckier
that none of the other guys had noticed I was special yet.  It would take
time to teach me what to do, but at least he wouldn't have to share."

   "So he was like, do it with one creep in secret, or tell and have a mob
of creeps passing you around?"

   "Yeah.  All that stuff about bad touching and swimsuit places was for
other girls.  I was *special*.  There were a few other girls like me.  Most
of them already knew what to do.  I still had to be trained.  Because I was
being trained instead of playing it never crossed my mind to complain that
I wasn't having fun.  He didn't have to go slow or coax me into going a
little bit further, 'just this once'.  He didn't waste any time.  When he
was ready to cum he made me bend over and take the head of his cock in my
mouth.  I didn't know anything about ejaculation.  I found out what sperm
looked like because I didn't know it was coming or that other girls
swallow. Later he made me do anal because my vagina wouldn't stretch that
far without tearing.  Much later I figured out that he didn't give a damn
about tearing me up.  He was scared some doctor would notice I wasn't a
virgin and start asking questions.  By the time he had me trained I really
felt special..., like I should be in the Special Olympics.  I was more
afraid of people finding out I was that stupid than having them know about
the sex stuff."

   "You're not dumb!  Kids aren't supposed to know anything about that
stuff!"

   Debbie rolled toward him long enough to plant a quick kiss before
settling back to the grassy river bank.

   "That just might be the nicest thing a boy ever said to me.  Anyway,
there was one time..., near the end.  I had to meet him somewhere and when
mom asked about it, I made some kind of excuse that really didn't explain
anything.  If she pushed it right then, I would have told everything.  It
would have stopped that much sooner.  Sometimes I wonder if I was maybe
trying to get caught.  Later on I made my friend swear to keep it a secret,
but the girl I told was the one friend I had who couldn't keep a secret to
save her life.  So yeah, maybe I was sort of hoping mom would keep asking
until I spilled the whole story.  Instead, she just sort of looked away and
changed the subject.

   "I was like, oh my God, she knows!  I don't mean details, just that
something was going on.  So it was like, she wasn't really OK with what was
happening to me, but she wasn't going to push for answers she didn't want
to hear.  When I got there, I was mad at her, mad at him and really,
really, mad at myself.  You say I'm not stupid so I guess I got crazy or
maybe just mean.  I decided that if he wanted it that bad, he should make
me *do* it really bad."

   "You mean, like, being rough?"

   "Not hurting me, not just to be hurting me anyway.  It was OK while he
was using me for sex.  I, uh, I wanted that to hurt a little.  That way I
would know he was *using* me, making me do the nastiest things he could
think of."

   "Oh...  What...  Uh...  "

   "Oh God.  It was a good thing I didn't really know what I was asking
for. The only thing that could have made it worse is if I knew, and asked
him to do it anyway."

   "I'm kinda scared to ask what he did."

   "That was the first shock.  He didn't really do anything different.  He
was already doing the nastiest stuff he thought he could get away with. 
Until then I guess I had this idea that he was trying to be nice, that he
was trying to make it easier for me.  The second surprise was, well, you've
been with a couple of perverts now.  You know how they get when they're
allowed to do something, 'special'?"

   "Like a kid who just found out he's spending the first week of summer
vacation at Disneyland?  When his last class ended five minutes ago?"

   "Uh-huh, and he's got a book of coupons for the best rides in the park.
It changed things, sort of.  Not the things he was doing but the way I felt
about it.  Before it was like, OK, he has to do it with a kid.  It would be
better for everybody if he could do it with other grown ups and leave me
alone.  Too bad, the only way he can have that kind of pleasure is with a
kid and for now at least, I'm it.  Then, all of a sudden, I'm standing
there saying, 'OK, I'm it.  I'm sick of waiting for the next level.  Show
me how bad it can get.'.  Then it was like you said.  Disneyland is open
and he's the only kid in line.  He had me get bare all over.  He probably
would have anyway.  We usually didn't get the chance.  If anyone knew we
were together he made sure we could stop and cover up in the time it took
for him to answer the door.  This time he didn't know about mom asking
questions.

   "I did, and all I could think about was making her watch what he was
doing.  What if she followed me?  Would she come busting in on us?  Then
let her catch me bare naked.  Hey mom, is he still such a nice guy when
he's holding your little girls head with both hands while he fucks her
face? Gonna grab a towel and wipe that dribble of cum off my chin?  He
spanked me, but not too hard.  I wasn't very bad.  He was edging, having me
suck until he got close before making me stop.  He spanked me for not
stopping fast enough.  The next time that happened, instead of spanking my
ass, he fucked it...  sort of.

   "We were in the bathroom and the closest thing to a chair was the toilet
with the lid closed.  One of the ways he liked it was to have me sit on his
lap.  If I was wearing a skirt, he would unzip his fly and pull my panties
down far enough to stick it in my ass.  If we heard somebody we could
straighten up in a couple of seconds.  This time I straddled his thighs
facing his feet and backed up until the head of his dick was inside.  As he
grabbed my wrists and slowly pulled me back I rose up on tip toes to try to
keep him from going deeper.  By the time I was back far enough to be
directly over his cock, I couldn't quite lift myself off of him no matter
how I stretched.  My reflection in the mirror on the inside of the bathroom
door let me know what mom would see if she walked in on us right then.

   "Would she expect me to struggle?  After only a couple of minutes my
legs were shaking from the strain.  Would she tell me to go ahead, to give
up and let it happen?  What would it be like to have her watching me lower
myself onto five thick inches of pervert cock?  What would you tell me to
do, if it was you standing there watching?"

   "I, uh, I'm not your mom."

   "Yeah.  I noticed.  So which would you tell me, fight it, or give up?"

   " I meant I'd be thinking about different choices."

   "Different choices?"

   Timmy started to blush and kept looking across the river, but finally
answered her question.

   "I'd be trying to get you to be with me instead.  Or..."

   "Or what?"

   "Uh...  like...  with me too."

   "You mean, make him share?"

   "I can't make a grown up do anything.  If I could, I'd make him leave
you alone.  Alone with me...  bare naked...  but not like you have to do it
with me to keep him away from you.  More like, if you're going to anyway,
do it with me instead."

   "Or do it with you too?"

   "Ok, I'm kind of a creep sometimes.  If I walked in on you there is *no
way* I could turn around and walk out.  If I'm there I'm going to watch.  I
can't imagine watching you with somebody else and not wanting to be with
you too."

   "You're right.  You're a creep.  But you know what?  If I walked in on
you and that Harold guy?  I would have left if you asked me to, but you
would have had to ask.  So I guess I'm sort of a creep too."

   "At least you're not asking me to do it with guys.  Cripes!  How could
my mom *do* that?  And it isn't going to be a one time thing.  Harold told
me she's going to make sure I get, 'all the cock I can handle'.  Like she's
going to be looking for guys who'll do it with me."

   "How much is all you can handle?  So far you did it with Bob, this
Harold guy and Billy."

   "He told you!?"

   "No, and I wasn't sure until right now.  Guys act different around
somebody they fucked.  I guess girls do too but if I meet a couple I'm not
watching the girl.  I wouldn't have noticed if you weren't talking about it
when I left that day.  The next time I saw you together I was looking for
it.  What I didn't know is if I was seeing it because you did something, or
because I was looking for it."

   "Yeah, well, we're not gay."

   "Because you were thinking about me?  You know, you look really cute
when you blush like that."

   "Uh, like you said, we were talking about it and after you left we sort
of started talking about you.  I guess one thing lead to another..."

   "It's OK.  I mean it's weird, but not *that* weird.  I'm not mad at
either of you.  There is one thing I'm kind of curious about.  You don't
have to answer.  It's really none of my business.  When you guys did it,
were you...  like...  the girl?"

   "Yeah, but..."

   "I know.  I know.  You guys were thinking about me.  What I wanted to
ask is, were *you* thinking about what it would be like with me...  or to
be me?"

   Timmy couldn't answer her, couldn't even look at her, but he really
didn't have to.  The way his blush darkened confirmed her suspicions as
thoroughly as anything he could have said.  Debbie rolled in to kiss him
again, staying on top of him this time, nuzzling the side of his neck and
talking in a voice too soft for anyone else to hear.

   "I've never done it with a boy my own age.  I never actually wanted to
do it.  I uh, sometimes I kind of liked the attention, but that's not the
same thing.  I never even imagined being with a boy who knows what it's
like to be with a pervert, not until now.  If you want to find out what it
was like for Billy, well, I can't really show you how it feels to have your
cock in a *boys* ass..."

End Part 6