July 6, 2014

Unlock Your Daughters….

By Edith Day In Blog

It seems to me that many a parent laments over adolescence just about the time the doctor says… you’re having a fill in the blank. This is with good reason and what used to seem like was a bigger worry with having a daughter I think it’s just about the same. Of course the girls can and often do get knocked up but they don’t get that way alone as we all know.

I think that my Daddy had an interesting take on what to do when one’s daughters go through puberty. He did what no other parent I knew did and of course now that I am one my own children do not stand a fucking chance to escape and go a-fucking.

What exactly he was thinking I am still not quite sure but I do know that Nana was acutely aware that we were “up to no good down there!”

My house was set on a hill and when my parents built it they created a basement. When mother was alive this basement served multiple purposes. On one side it was a sewing room fully set up with a table and that cardboard thingy for laying out and pinning patterns and a mason jar full of scissors. There was a dresser filled with more patterns and under the curtain of the table there were stacks upon stacks of varied different fabrics both from past sewing projects as well as new ones just waiting to be created. It was women’s territory as my grandfather put it but the opposite side of the room there was a bed and a dresser with two nightstands and lamps. It was their guest quarters when they came to visit and they came often and for long periods of time. Not one birthday, anniversary, christmas, easter or otherwise was spent elsewhere despite the fact that my mother was the baby of three of their children, she clearly was their favorite. The other entire half of the basement was filled to the brim with toys. Sweet Daddy , my grandfather had built shelves from floor to ceiling and there was even a play kitchen set up. It was everything any child could wish for. There was a sliding glass door to the back yard and Sweet Daddy built us the most lovely two story tree house and a sandbox and tire swing.

As children, the basement was a glorious place where Lauren and I fed our doll babies and when one of them in particular was pooping too much, well I crammed a fat green crayon in it’s tiny white ass to make it stop! Our brother Dave was made to play the role of our dog and I enjoyed every minute of making him crawl around on the green shaggy carpet and get rug burn. He deserved it because he was Nana’s favorite and I wanted to be everyone’s favorite. I think everyone should adore me and have always been terrible displeased right from the start with those who didn’t!

It was in the basement where I learned my mother was killed, sitting in a rocking chair in my purple leotard and tights. I was supposed to have gone with her and she left and never came back.

The step monster moved in 6 months after mother was killed and shortly she decided that my sister and I were going to move to the basement. They converted the space into three different ones. Gone was the playroom and the wonderful play spaces, now it was three boring bedrooms and one sliding glass door.

The siding glass door was kinda scary as a child, I am not going to lie. Our house was on several acres and it was dark at night and that door opened up to the back yard that they kept what they called “natural” which really meant woods filled with snakes because they were either too lazy or too cheap to landscape it. The dogs would bark when they heard rustling leaves so as we got older you can’y imagine the ruckus they made when we were actually entertaining guests. Trouble was, our guests were invited by us and our parents never knew!

It was in the basement that in my first year of high school my best friend at the time came over with a bottle of Jack Daniels and a bottle champagne and a bottle of red wine. She was too stupid to realize that you can’t mix all of that without a terrible result and unfortunately we did. The last thing I remember was smelling carpet fibers as my head hit the green shag and then awaking to me laying in a tub filled with water and a very thin film of greenish vomit. My first drunk was just great! The hangover was even more fabulous as we had to go to school the next day to practice in the sun for the football game with the band. I remember walking in with a Pepsi in my hand and Mr. Wright said, “You know young lady we don’t drink sweet sodas and blow that into our horns!” I glanced his direction and then leaned in and breathed on him. He took one look at me and said, “alrighty, you may take that pepsi with you today!”

The basement was an interesting place, I always thought it was a little haunted by my mother and if she had been there she really should have made some noise. It would have kept some of the partying down to a minimum!

My best friend who is actually now my husband of 25 years used to steal his parents car and sneak over to our basement with all of our buddies and we’d hang out on the porch and smoke and drink. Occasionally we’d get the wild hair to have a screw.

I call it have a screw because it sure as shit wasn’t lovemaking. I remember the first time I had sex was in my bed in that damn basement and what a disappointment! I don’t know what I thought it was going to be like, well…. actually I guess when I think about it I guess that I do. It was supposed to be something really spectacular. We had been dating for a whole year and both decided that on our anniversary we would do the deed. I had planned everything out right down to the very music that would be playing when David’s penis would enter me for the first time. Open Arms…. go figure. Trouble was it did not want to go in! We crammed it in and that in and of itself was pretty painful, memorable and not spectacular at all. I guess he wasn’t any more impressed with it than I was and in about a month we were broken up and both of us on to the next thing.

For me that meant quite a transformation. I shaved all my hair off and dyed it pink. This should have been a strong indicator that I was clearly disturbed but alas my poor father was too busy making money catching babies to see that. Then I proceeded to have a fucking contest with two other friends, both of which were girls. The girls by the way are the ones to watch. Boys are dumber than bricks in high school. They will follow pussy wherever it leads them for better or for worse. Anywho, I won the contest between me and Palmer but I could not win it with Jennifer. That girl was a bonified calculated boy killer and a fantastic whore. We would go to football games and the dance that followed and if I did not keep a hand on my guy for the night or the week damned if I’d not find her in the car giving him head. This only happened about three times before I got mad. She explained to me that she was doing me a favor by doing it because she knew that wasn’t necessarily my favorite thing to do. And that was partly true, however when the next thing I knew she was actually fucking them too I had enough.

Yes, Angela was a terrific whore, actually took my husband’s virginity! She was always two steps in front of me when it came to cuming.

Now Micheal and his best friend Andrew were regulars in the basement. Those boys would sneak over and be very quiet. I had lost my shit over Andrew long before High school and once we were able to actually do something with our bodies there was a magic between the two of us that could not be contained or controlled. Andrew came to live with Micheal because both his parents were alcoholics and neither of them really wanted him around. Micheal lived in a big 10,000 square foot house and Andrew was barely even realized as a resident by his parents unless the boys were in the kitchen eating a meal. They were brothers really inseprerebale and when Micheal’s parent’s left to go on vacation they would run over to my house and pick me up. Andrew and I did not need food nor water. All we needed was a bed and time. We were at a party one time at Micheal’s house and fucked on every step in front of everyone and neither he nor I knew who was around but each other. Trouble is that kind of lust is dangerous and that is the only reason why I never married him. He was a player and I was too at the time and it would have led to a lifetime of misery. But he was FUN.

Leave a Comment

You must be 21 years old to visit this site.

Please verify your age

- -