Chapter 1
When Jenna Grubber (18) was four months into her first year at university in civic engineering studies, she'd become fascinated with her developing ability to turn a guy, from being an over-sexed male missile on heat and on target, into a near-writhing mess of shaking sexual confusion with a collapsed erection, simply achieved by snapping her legs closed.
However, Frankie, a best-friend and student of molecular science, warned Jenna that any guy temporarily half-insane from believing he was the victim of, say, unjustified malevolent treatment, could attack her long-time blonde and leggy Jenna, perhaps brutally.
"Probably I would be fine," Jenna told her roommate and lover. "If physically attacked or severely threatened, I could then unleash, after almost nine years of Martial Arts training as a fitness and self-improvement discipline, into counter-attacking in real life."
* * *
Early in Jenna's life, her father Claude Grubber had claimed more than once that their daughter could wheedle better than anyone he knew, including her mother.
That claim was practically a boast, and he was about to lean that his daughter's wheedling could really bite.
Then as the Little Miss Jenna progressively discovered the enchantment of Toyland, and with her developing skills of allurement, she possessed the power to change Bad Daddy into Good Daddy. When worn down, he'd add the current object of desire to her toy collection.
Now, almost two decades later, sweet Little Daddy's Girl had become not so sweet Jenna who officially was a university student while dabbling in not witchcraft or the occult or becoming in idiot inciting civilian unrest without just cause, thank god.
Rather, grown up Little Darling was following the well-trodden pathway that young people have traversed over the centuries. They seek to fill the large gaps in their knowledge about sex due to parents and formal teachers only passing across incomplete and appalling sanitised information, though these days many young people can find all the facts and mis-facts that they can wish to absorb on the Internet.
Their underperforming or misinformed parents and grandparents have access to those same resources, too.
Jenna had become aware that when was tired of being limited to the physicality of mouth and finger, toe and even an entire fist, in female-on-female sex.
She decided to move to experience sex with a guy, to extend beyond passionate activity that so far had always ended with her snapping her legs closed before the fast-approaching dripping cock of the day could....
Omigod, to think of what experiences lay ahead for her if, or rather when, why she cried, 'Give it to me my hot hunk.'
* * *
Jenna had thought long and hard about possible sex with a male, sufficiently at times to make herself excite into wetness down below and to almost start dribbling at the corner of her mouth.
Eventually, she decided her father should be the man to symbolically deflower her.
Yes, what better choice, she nodded err devoutly, when beginning planning to drag him into the darkest secret he'd ever imagined, much to his shame.
Her choice was partly about timing as well. Her parents had been rowing lately, and that was unusual for them.
She was in the kitchen with her mum Marlene and they'd just finished clearing away after breakfast when she triggered her campaign to activate daddy, sexually.
Jenna said, "Mum, are you and dad okay, I mean relation-wise?"
Marlene adopted the expression of a woman desperate to unburden.
"Darling, if I tell you, would you keep that info to yourself?"
"Of course, mum. I mean, you are my mum," Jenna said persuasively, wondering what the heck?
Marlene patted her hair in place.
"Well I really don't know," she choked.
"That's fine mum. I don't need to know. I'm off."
Marlene blurted, "I've been having an affair."
Jenna's mouth fell open and she sucked in air.
She drew on Australian slang: "Mum, you little beauty. I'd never guessed you had it in you, with your being a church warden and all that stuff."
"These sorts of things just happen."
"I guess they do, mum. And I must remember that. How did it happen?"
Her mother flushed a little as she wrung her hands as she recalled her betrayal.
Pitching in with genuine support, Jenna said sounding rather detached, "It's okay mum. Probably you feel you must tell someone you can trust, and you know you won't risk facing lop-sided judgement from me."
"Yes, that's true."
Marlene sighed and walked to the sofa as the far corner of the lounge, away from the open doors leading on to the terrace, followed by her daughter. They both were aware that Jenna was rather light on deep moral feelings. Right at that moment her daughter was wondering if that area should be called confession corner of the family home.
Claude was well out of earshot as he was away trimming grandma Sarah's hedge around her vegetable garden and would stay on for Saturday lunch.
Still cutting her teeth in passing into adulthood, Jenna knew next to nothing about adultery. She knew in the case of an unattached 'he and a she', one of them would call the shot and they would fall into each other's arms and just do it. She was about to learn that what happens does not necessarily occur spontaneously.
In confessing her 'waywardness' (her choice of word), Marlene described how it began so innocently. In summary, she said each Sunday when she emerged from church. she would notice the slightly plump and smiling Neville Baker standing with wife and some of his family engaging in social after-church chatter.
Eventually, Marlene realized that the sod, err the friendly architect, was glancing at her longer than simply admiring her dress of the day as she walked down the exit steps. He was watching her body, well her thighs moving her dress and that his gaze appeared to linger longer each Sunday on her breasts.
Weeks later, on that infamous Sunday, Neville winked at her and she winked back, impulsively.
Marlene attempted to confirm to herself that she hadn't meant to respond in any way at all but within a few hours of occasional reflection admitted to herself that her wink was intended and she would welcome knowing Neville more, err, yes, more intimately.
Neville called Marlene that afternoon when she was resting after late lunch with him launching with the line that he just had to say how splendid she'd looked that morning in that new dress.
She'd laughed and said the inevitable, what that old thing, and away they chatted, finishing with her accepting his invitation to meet after work on Wednesday at the Caprice Coffee Bar on the river embankment.
Marlene confessed to her daughter that eventually such occasional meetings ended with a kiss goodbye and then a bit of body pressing occurred and then about 11 weeks ago they began doing it, and that's all she wished to say.
But Jenna's mind was filled with the concept of her mother partaking in body pressing with any guy who was not her husband, and the need to know more raged.
"Mum, for goodness sake, don't leave me hanging in a void."
"What on earth can you wish to hear me say?"
"Mum, you're a modern woman, not one of those dried up prunes of similar age looking back and dreaming of the past. What was he like to fuck?"
"For goodness sake, Jenna. I'm your mother, not some off the street whore."
"I know that as well as you do mother. Omigod, sorry, I traditionally only use the word mother when I'm telling you off. I just need to know more of the nitty-gritty. We are both women and it's natural for us to think of and admire our bodies and at times to think about sex and touch ourselves."
Marlene sighed.
"Yes, that's a reasonable request and I will respond but first, you answer this. Omigod, now you have me using the word: Do you and Frankie actually try to fuck?"
"Yeah mum, and we sometimes use a strap-on imitation penis and that's how I technically lost my virginity."
"What, just one of you straps-on thingies one sometimes sees hanging on the wall of stockings for sale of back-street dress shops?"
