Peter Jensen
THE BOYFRIEND’S DAD
CHAPTER ONE
Tamera West slouched in an easy chair, watching an old Tarzan repeat on the television and eating an apple. Her thoughts weren’t on the screen, but on her date for that night, Eddie McDonald, a big, handsome boy, with craggy features like James Colburn—only younger, of course, Eddie was going to be a senior when school started again, (but sadly, he was going to be bussed to another district. Still, there was the rest of the summer to see him, and who could tell what would happen by September?) She’d only been out with him once, last Saturday night, on a blind date arranged by her best friend, Nancy Cannon, whose steady boyfriend Jason, had brought Eddie along. And wow!
Tamera stretched out and yawned, running her fingers feline-like through her long silken blonde hair, blissfully thinking of his strong, muscular arms and how they’d held her in the backseat of Jason’s old car, of how he’d kissed her so hard her toes had curled, of how he’d tried to put his hand on her breasts, under her sweater, and of how, when she hadn’t allowed him to, he’d attempted to slide his hand up her naked thigh and under her skirt.
It made her quiver all over again with excitement, strange awakening tinglings of budding womanhood pervading her belly, breasts, and vagina. Eddie made her feel so alive, so much like a woman, even though she was only fifteen. Or—was it him, her mind cautioned, or just her own chemistry changing as she matured. Was it time, she asked herself, like her girlfriend Nancy had told her once? One day you’re a child, and the next you’re ready for sex and everything. She didn’t know, but she figured that the important thing was having the feeling of being alive and generating a tingling heat every time she thought about it and Eddie.
She moved her legs so that they were straight out in front of her, arching slightly, and then she stiffened her back and yawned. In only one more hour…
She was a beautiful young girl, much like her mother, with an upturned, freckle-splattered nose and cheeks like spots from a paint brush, and her ice-blue eyes were more cat-like and devilish than distant, as many blue eyes can be. Her ripely budding young breasts were two small firm cylinders, tapering from their swollen moorings to cherry-nippled crests, and they bobbed invitingly as she moved in the chair, for she wore nothing more than a thin bra and sheer, almost see-through panties. The day had been so hot, and she had been too comfortable to worry about dressing for her date until the cool of the evening. The way she sat now, her eyes were drawn to the thin white nylon of her panties, and the way they creased in the thin visibly dividing slit of her vaginal lips. She liked looking at it, studying the soft, pink curves and silky blonde strands of pubic hair that curled out from around the elastic legbands; she liked looking at it through her panties almost as much as she liked seeing it naked. For the last few months she had liked looking at her sensually awakening young cunt, almost as much as she had enjoyed touching it.
She had learned the delightful way her fingers could arouse her, make her thrash and oscillate with delicious sensations. She had learned to finger herself from Nancy—which was one reason that they were friends. She’d walked into Nancy’s bedroom one night when she’d been sleeping overnight there, not wearing even so much as she was now, for she’d been taking a shower; her nakedness had never given her a second thought. After all, they were both girls, and they’d seen each other in the flesh in the school locker room before, so why should it be different here? It proved to be very different.
Nancy had been lying on her bed, her back against the headboard, and her hand was between her legs rubbing her dark, thinly curled pubic triangle as fast as she could. Her eyes had been shut, and she’d been moaning. Thinking she was in pain, Tamera had run over to her and asked what was the matter. Nancy had told her to put the towel on the bed and lie down upon it beside her; and then, after the innocent Tamera had done so, Nancy leaned forward and told her to spread her legs…
The thought of Nancy’s cool fingers on her sensitive little pubic lips made Tamera blush even now, for she knew instinctively that what they had done was wrong, though such things were never discussed in her sex classes.
But, after a few moments, Tamera hadn’t wanted the strange scintillating feelings she’d been introduced to by Nancy to stop. Nancy and she had gotten together a lot after that, and Tamera alone often fondled the soft little cuntal valley between her legs. Not that she’d ever allowed the boys who dated her to finger her… never.
She was determined to be married a virgin like her mother had, and anything past necking and fondling her breasts—and that only after quite a few dates… was strictly off limits. There’d been times after a drive-in movie or a hot party or like last week with Eddie, when she’d cried her frustrations into her pillow, for she’d been aroused hotter than ever before. And then she’d had to use her fingers again for relief. She kept telling herself that in a few weeks a particular boy would no longer be important, and she would grow fond of another, and she couldn’t give in her virginity for one that wouldn’t last forever. She wasn’t ready to settle down, to truly fall in love—and so far she’d been right.
Of course, no boy had come along like Eddie before. Tamera knew instinctively that she’d have an awfully hard time keeping her moral resolutions intact with a “wow” guy like him.
There was a noise then, interrupting her train of thoughts, and Tamera looked up as the front door opened and her mother entered. Carla West, thirty-five years old and widowed, staggered into the living room with a pile of grocery sacks. She was dressed in a light blouse and shorts, the long expanse of her tanned legs provocative against the white of the cloth. Her hair was askew, however, and perspiration beaded her face, and it was obvious that she was tired from the shopping she’d done. Still, there was a fresh, young beauty about her in spite of the fact she had a teenaged daughter; firm taut breasts, trim flat stomach without the slightest stretch mark to interrupt the silken smoothness of her skin, and the same kind of pouty, sensual face as Tamera’s.
“There’s another bundle in the car,” Carla said. “I’d ask you to get it, but I can see you’re not dressed.” She eyed her daughter’s bare sun-browned body with disapproval.
“Aw, Mom,” Tamera objected. “I was just resting like this.”
“Resting to do what? Strip-tease for the neighbors?”
“I’ve got more on now than when I’m wearing my bikini, for crying out loud.”
“Listen, honey,” her mother retorted waspishly. “I don’t care if you run around the house completely naked. In fact you have a lovely body and it’s enjoyable to see, compared to most girl’s figures. But a bikini is one thing, see-through panties and bra are another—and especially when the curtains are open and everybody passing can see you.”
“Oh,” Tamera said. “I forgot.”
“Uh-huh.” Carla sighed, exhausted and too uncomfortable to continue arguing, and sat down on the sofa to the right of her daughter. “What a mess at Goodermann’s today. You’d think it was the Fourth of July or something. I’m bushed.”
“I’ll get dressed,” Tamera offered, “and get the other sack of groceries for you.”
“No, no,” Carla replied wearily. “No need. I’ll get a second wind in a little bit.”
“I have to get dressed anyway,” Tamera said, rising out of her chair. “I mean, it’s almost time for Eddie to get here.”
“Eddie? Oh, yes, Eddie, the boy you were with last week. You’re going out with him again tonight?”
“The four of us. Jason—that’s Nancy’s boy-friend—doesn’t have his car running, so we’re all using Eddie’s. Last week Eddie’s was broken.”
“Where were you today?”
“At the park. Me and Nancy, we swam in the pool there. But it was awful crowded, you know? And it sort of smelled from everybody.” She wrinkled her nose with disgust. “It wasn’t very nice.”
“I worry about you,” her mother started to complain. “Out all day, gone most of the nights… I don’t know what to do at times.”
“Don’t worry, Mom. I’m a big girl now.”
“You’re the only one left now, the only one. Some women who’ve lost their husbands don’t try to be both parents to their children, never care where they are or who they’re with, but I do.”
