525: Golden Rule

by Eva

She had golden hair; long, soft, tumbling. Beautiful. And even at twelve she knew she was hot.

Indiana would smile, flutter her eyelashes and tease. Flirting, making men feel excited. Not difficult, given how they are.

But she was doing it to my husband Mike. She was doing it at the big party we had for our Golden Anniversary. We had hired the church hall and it was full and the minx was doing her stuff. Openly.

Mike was drunk, she was gyrating wantonly in front of him. I could tell he was excited; it was that obvious.

Not hard for me, but for the little whore. I stepped in, smiled grimly and took Indiana's arm, steering her to the back. Into the small room where they kept props for pantomimes. Dusty, secret. Private.

"Enough," I snapped. "You're spoiling my special day."

She winked at me. Big eyes, small boobs. High, like mine were once. Not now I'm 67, I admit. A tight little sweater, cropped, showing her flat stomach. A fake jewel glinting in her belly button. Silly short skirt. Skinny legs.

Indiana was chewing gum. I hate that; disrespectful. Did it noisily, too. I grabbed her face, pinched her cheeks to open her mouth, pulled her face to mine.

"Dare you, bitch," she grinned. Like she knew.

God knows why I wanted to do it. Why I felt so angry, so hot. So aroused. I plunged my tongue into the child's mouth, her pressed up to the wall, my weight on her. The girl could hardly breathe, but I didn't care.

I wanted her to choke on my tongue. Ram that gum down her throat. Wanted her to feel me and not a man, put her hands on my tits not on my husband's cock. Up between my legs, up my long skirt. New, for this special evening.

She got her hand up between my legs, inside my mature, sensible, damp pants. We kissed, she fingered. Teasing and stroking and knew where my hard clit was. Both hands: one deep in me, the other spreading my old, flabby lips and teasing and flicking and stroking. Because she knew.

Like she always knew there were women like me. Women who waited fifty years for this. Waiting for pain and pleasure. I came with a gurgle and she bit my tongue. "Fuck," I moaned.

"Cheap cunt," she chuckled. She knew what I was. Then: "Tomorrow, behind the school. My friends will want to fuck you. Finger you, put their fingers up your arsehole. Twist your fat nipples." Like she was doing with mine now. Hard. Making me cry and spurt and beg for more.

Kissing me as she did it, shoving that stale gum in my mouth. Then taking it out and pushing it up my dripping cunt, telling me keep it there. Making me lick her soft, bald pussy.

We went back to the party, when I was straightened up. When I promised to behave. Promised anything, if she'd touch me again.

"Everything okay?" Asked my daughter, Indiana's mother.

"Fine," I smiled, feeling the chewing gum inside me. "Now I know the Golden Rule."