Message-ID: <7344eli$9803291641@qz.little-neck.ny.us> From: pinkneon@hempseed.com (Pink Neon) Subject: Mirrorshades, Part One Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Original-Message-ID: <6fkhe3$bii$2@news1.i1.net> This story is a work of fiction and is intended for an adult audience. It contains graphic sexual descriptions which would be considered morally objectionable by people who have their craniums firmly lodged in their arses. -------------------------------------------------- This isn't the same Molly as in Making Noise, by the way. I just happen to love the name and the other reason will be apparent to the other Gibson fans out there. Comments are always appreciated. Enjoy, all! Please note my new email address when contacting me. -------------------------------------------------- Mirrorshades Part One by Pink Neon pinkneon@hempseed.com It all started when my daughter, Janey, told me she was gay. At first, I thought "Sure, this week you're gay, what'll it be next week?" I love Janey with all my heart, but she's always been, well, for want of a better word, flighty. That's why I didn't really believe her when she said she was gay. It's not that I had a problem with it, it's just that I know Janey and I know how she jumps around from job to job, hobby to hobby. One week she's a Communist, next week she's a noveau-yuppie. But this seemed to stick, after a fashion. She was still flighty, still my same Janey, but she didn't give up dating the other girls in her high school. She did bounce around from relationship to relationship like a hummingbird, but what girl her age really needs to be settling down, anyway? One Friday evening, she came downstairs, combing her hair and generally primping for a date. "Mom, don't embarrass me, okay? I really like this girl." I just smiled. "Sure, Janey, do want me to bring out the baby pictures or the ones from last summer when you accidentally dyed your hair green?" "Ha ha. Bring out whatever pics you want, Mom. She's blind, so she'll just have to take your word for it." "Blind? Why didn't you tell me that before?" "Is it a problem?" "Of course not, Janey, it just seems like the kind of thing somebody would mention." "Isn't that what I just did?" I laughed and gave her a quick hug. "Okay, any other dark secrets about your new belle?" "Well, she'd twenty-two," Janey said with a sheepish I'm-telling-you-the-truth-but-I-hope-you-think-I'm-joking smile. "Isn't that a little old for you, Janey? I mean, five years can be a lot, at least when you're so young." "Maybe, but she doesn't seem all that much older. It's not like she's immature or anything... I dunno, she's just really nice. I like being with her, y'know." Janey was definitely getting embarrassed now. "I'll be good, Janey. Scout's honor. Just as long as you know what you're doing. I trust you." It's more likely you'll end up breaking the poor girl's heart, not the other way around, I thought. That's just the way Janey is. Ten minutes later, Janey's date arrived, chauffeured by her brother. Janey introduced her as Molly. She was a tall, sleek girl with shiny dark hair cut into a cute bob that would probably be considered retro in twenty years and small features. Instead of the normal dark sunglasses, Molly wore mirrorshades. After she felt my face to tell what I looked like, I complemented her on them. "Thanks. I guess I'd be lost if I couldn't get William Gibson books in Braille. Kind of a little tribute, y'know, since I had the name and all." Eventually, they left, Janey on Molly's arm, quite the couple. I spent the evening kicking around the house, alone. Just like usual. Janey's father had left me three years ago for some nineteen-year-old with plastic tits and I guess it just left me kind of bummed out with the whole idea of getting out and meeting people. I hardly ever dated any more. Not that I'm all that old, or anything, I'm only 34. I met Mark my freshman year of college and we got married. Right after he got me pregnant, that is. At least I got my degree. Eventually. But I guess I'm still not all that bad looking, for an old woman. At least that's what I've been told. When Janey and I go somewhere, we sometimes get mistaken for sisters. God, she hates that! So I always dress like her when we go out, just to bug her. But I've just never been very good with guys. I don't know if it's shyness or what, but I never seem to get asked out much. So I end up spending a lot of nights alone. I usually didn't mind it. I had even gotten to liking it, most of the time. I'd watch some TV or read a book or just make up something to do. Well, tonight was the kind of night when I minded being alone. I don't know why, but for some reason, I was feeling very horny. Ah, what the fuck, I thought. I have the house to myself tonight, might as well enjoy it. I turned out the lights and went to my bedroom. I put on some music to put myself in the mood. Ali Farka Toure always does it, for some reason. I took off my blouse and jeans until I was standing in nothing but my bra and panties. I ran my hand down my tummy, brushing my fingers around the outer edge of my belly button. I shivered and giggled a little. Suddenly, I wanted to be completely naked, so I stripped off my bra, threw it in the corner and slid my panties down my thighs and kicked them off. They flew across the room and hooked on the doorknob. I laughed out loud. Couldn't have made a better shot if I'd tried. I stood in front of the mirror naked and looked myself over. No, not bad at all. I ran my hands down my sides to my waist and then my hips. I ran one over my left breast. The rose tattoo three or four inches above my nipple still didn't look dumb. That was how I judged my appearance. I'd strip down in front of a mirror and if I didn't regret my tattoo, then I was fine. Old women really stand out if they have a tattoo. Only young people should have tattoos, when they're dumb enough and cute enough to fully appreciate them. I moved my fingers gently down my breast and tweaked my nipple. It felt wonderful. It sent a warm little wave through my abdomen and I decided it was time to get into bed. I climbed in under the covers and contemplated why "warm" and "naked" always seemed to lead to "happy". It was true. Even if you're alone, if you're warm and naked, sooner or later you'll start to feel happy, if only for a little while. I pinched my nipple again, this time a little harder. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply as I moved my hand down my body. I stopped at my pubic bush. It was curly, like everybody's, but arguably softer than the hair on my head. I kept it neatly shaped, but left it long. I kept my lips shaved bald as the day I was born and right now, they felt like heaven to my adventurous fingers. The skin was soft and, now, moist. I squirmed my butt a little almost involuntarily as I found my clit like I had done so many times before. I started stroking my clit with one hand and rolling a nipple between the thumb and index finger of the other. A little moan came up the back of my throat and I let it out. It felt so good! I dipped my middle finger in and shivered in delight. I tried to bring to mind some kind of erotic imagery to help myself along, but couldn't seem to make it work. That's when something odd happened. Suddenly, an image of Molly popped into my head. She was nude except for her mirrorshades, standing in front of me. The vision was so powerful, it felt like she was there in my room with me. Before I could even stop myself, I was cumming! My orgasm took hold of my body just as the vision of Molly nude had claimed my mind. It pounded me into submission, forcing me to experience it, to revel in it. When I started to calm down, my mind began to buzz. What had happened to me? Where had that come from? Part of me felt shocked that I had gotten off on thinking about a nude woman and part of me felt guilty because that same woman was my daughter's girlfriend. I wiped my hand on my tummy and lay there wondering what it meant. I don't know if it was exhaustion or the wonderful orgasm I had just had, but I fell asleep and didn't wake up until very late the next morning. I tried to put it out of my head as best I could, but every once in a while, that picture kept popping back into my conscious mind, Molly's mirrorshades glinting a small wink of light, her body sleek and inviting. A look on her face of pure eroticism. Needless to say, this made things a little bit awkward for me whenever Molly was around, which was getting to be pretty often now. She'd come by and we'd talk while Janey got ready. (I love the girl, but she's always running late.) Molly was an aspiring author. She let me read a couple of her stories, even. It seemed like the more I got to know Molly, the more often she popped up in my sexual fantasies. I started to feel very guilty about it, but then I decided that nobody was getting hurt, and after all, that' what fantasies are for right? To be able to enjoy things you might not necessarily do. And when Janey, predictably, broke up with Molly, saying it was getting too serious for her, I thought that would be the end of it. But what kind of story would that be? -------------------------------------------------- Stay tuned. -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us |