Phoebe didn'tsay "whatever," but her expression delivered this all-purposeexclamation of teenaged exasperation in the face of adult obtusenessmore effectively than a thousand mere words ever could.Marcia was on the couch, browsing the internet on her laptop, whenPhoebe returned from her shower. She was wrapped in the ankle-lengthbathrobe of Egyptian cotton that Marcia had left for her on the back ofthe bathroom door. Wrapped in a towel-turban, Phoebe's wet hair waspiled atop her head, giving her an exotic, glamorous look."Hey," Marcia said, her heart aching at the casual beauty of herdaughter.Unbidden, the memories of other such moments flooded back, simpleunremarkable moments that most parents took for granted. Marcia shouldhave experienced these moments a thousand times over, experienced themso many times they eventually lost the power to break one's heart. Ifthey ever did. There were other moments, too, and these she couldconsider only in the abstract. Moments she had never. That long slow first thrust, every nerve ending in cock and cunt merging. Holding deep inside for a moment before pulling out to the very tip and repeating, feeling her yield yet again, open, warm and inviting. Her leg locked behind mine, naked shoulders against the wall, our eyes locked on each others as we fucked, long slow grinding strokes interspersed with short fast ones, just the tip of my cock inside her where the nerve endings are so intense then deep again, our bellies grinding together. Her arms snaked around my neck. I felt hard nipples grazing my chest. Our lips met yet again, mouths opened, breathing into each others mouths as our tongues found the same rhythm as our bodies Her teeth closed on my lower lip, drew blood, I felt her hand slide between us, the back of it rubbing my belly as she began to finger her clit her thrusts becoming faster and shorter but then… Footsteps! An angry voice “Jill! You in here? Where the fuck are you? “ I felt her stiffen. The footsteps.
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