C'mon Smudge..
*delurks*

I could tell stories that'd make you weep for my poor lost childhood about my parents' strict, protective nature, but I save them for "it's not fair" whingeing over Xmas dinner - they had a mid-life liberal renaissance and raised my younger siblings in a fashion so laid back they were practically horizontal.

Hell hath no fury like an oldest daughter watching her 15 year old sister skip in at 8am, straight from her boyfriend's house, having suffered years of being locked in her room for being one minute over the 11pm curfew. While my life was akin to Saffy from AbFab, she's living the rock-n-roll, fags-n-glamour existence of Patsy. Bitch.

But anyway. This is more a tale of dramatically unconcerned parenting, because it's more interesting. At the tender age of 14, being of sound mind (read: a raging hormonal mess) and unusually fast development, I found myself a wholly unsuitable boy - 17 (ooh, dangerous) and a school dropout. All the better to rebel against my sensible-shoes and 9pm-bedtimes upbringing.

Of course, within all of a week we were spending every spare minute in bed. Which was fine, because I'd convinced my mother I was doing "extra homework classes" to ensure I "followed her into Oxbridge". His parents never spoke a word to us in the house, and couldn't have given a fuck who I was. So one sunny afternoon we're at it like rabbits on Viagra in his bedroom, and being too hot for covers (oh those balmy Yorkshire summers.. erm..) we're naked on top of his sheets.

Then comes the knock at the door.

Christ, we think, we'd better grab some kind of covering material before someone sees us as god intended (and, potentially, phones the police given the age gap). We spend a futile couple of seconds pulling the same bit of blanket, that's wedged under his back, in different directions. Making odd eek-like noises. Perhaps we can rescue this with the aid of a few more seconds and a Argos Man United duvet cover.

But no. Not being a sensitive or particularly engaged mother, and so never realising why we're holed up in his room for hours a day making squeaky noises, his mother simply walks in. With their Jack Russell, whose yap would put Katie Price in a cat fight to shame. Curtains for us? As I'm trying to dissolve my chest into him in the clear hope his mother won't see my tits and realising it's way too late for my arse (yes, we'd for the first time decided to "give that weird girl on top thing a go".. bless), his mother reaches over the bed. To make it worse, said dog is barking like a car alarm and doing something that felt suspiciously like humping my boyfriend's naked, half-off-the-bed leg.


I'm literally scarlet, wondering what the fuck she's doing and when she's going to scream when she pipes up.

"Ooh Daz (for that was his name), where've you put them choccy biccies?"

Yes, after walking in on her only son heartily boffing his underage girlfriend, her only concern is her mission - find the biscuits.

Scrabbling round and finally finding the half empty packet of dark chocolate HobNobs on the windowsill whilst *reaching over our writhing naked sweaty flesh*, she turns on her heel and walks out. Saying loudly to the dog "Come on Smudge, let's leave these two lovers at it".

My first boyfriend's mum saw me naked. And shagging her son. Then, I wanted to die. Now, I love her, and aspire to be her (well, at least in her attitude to teenage sex). Click "I like this" if you want to hear what happened when my (then) Christian Conservative ma found out about all this...

No apologies for length, you should see what I have in my top drawer.
(bolshevette, Thu 10 Sep 2009, 20:38, 15 replies)

paragraph two
8am and 11am, doesn't make sense to me.

But please, don't take this as criticism; just a request for clarification. Welcome to b3ta!
(The Incredible Sulk Finally remembered his password on, Thu 10 Sep 2009, 23:59, closed)

Change 11am to 11pm
And all makes sense.

Now that's resolved, I want to find out about mother's reaction!
(Vice Admiral Sir Charles Cockbrush KCB MBE DSO, who is finding it increasingly difficult to log into b3ta.com wants to duck your aunt and kick your puppy, Fri 11 Sep 2009, 9:03, closed)

Ah
Thanks, edited!
(bolshevette, Fri 11 Sep 2009, 11:32, closed)

I clicked
Do tell
(StyX is staring at you, yes YOU!!!, Fri 11 Sep 2009, 0:20, closed)

Would've clicked,
had you not requested I do so.
(TheColonel, Fri 11 Sep 2009, 10:04, closed)

I've heard this before somewhere
but for the life of my can't remember. But still good
(NuffMuff fucks shrubbery, Fri 11 Sep 2009, 10:41, closed)

I clicked.
Gief moar story!
(Scritty Bakerman., Sat 12 Sep 2009, 7:56, closed)

Stop relurking
and tell me the rest

yes, I did click
(whiskas loved by 8 out of 10 cats, Sat 12 Sep 2009, 10:32, closed)

I require photographic evidence.
Failing that, a dramatic reconstruction in MS Paint.
(Seance Trumpet has got no beef with a man enjoying a croissant, Sun 13 Sep 2009, 19:36, closed)

Wait.
Photographic evidence.

Of a 14 year old being pleasured by a 17 year old?

....ew.
( WHARRGARBL, Tue 15 Sep 2009, 17:33, closed)

OHHHHHHH SWEATY INTERNET!
:((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((
( Jam Master Geordie Hero of B3ta., Tue 15 Sep 2009, 17:37, closed)

NONCE!

( Amorous Badger NAKED BEA ARTHUR PHOTOS 4U, Tue 15 Sep 2009, 17:38, closed)

NONCE!

( BraynDedd Natasha Kaplinsky's labia majora, Tue 15 Sep 2009, 17:44, closed)

You fucking sicken me.

( JessAction Give me all your expensive brandy and hubcaps., Tue 15 Sep 2009, 17:44, closed)

the mother story
is now here.

Apologies for anti-climaxes etc.
(bolshevette, Wed 16 Sep 2009, 13:03, closed)