Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

For a brief description of what takes place in each of the previous chapters, visit this page.

For a list of the characters from the story you are now reading, visit this page. 

For a list of the characters from the previous two stories that you will encounter here as well, visit this page.

And now, dear readers, we make our way into the next installment. Read on…

by Rachael Yukey

It’s a nightmare, it’s a nightmare
She just won’t let me out of sight
It’s a nightmare, it’s a nightmare
She’s laughing in the dead of night
Gillan, 1981

Patty Spisak sat frozen, staring into Vicky Hanson’s eyes. Desire warred with fear, the latter fed by her instinctual avoidance of intimacy. It had taken her most of middle school to cease having panic attacks over the prospect of a hug, and this was something much, much bigger.

The guilt she still felt over the cruel remarks she and Sarah Spencer had made about Vicky and her big sister was not helping. Maybe Vicky had forgiven her, but for Patty, forgiving herself was another matter. If she gave it so much as a moment’s thought, her habitual inferiority complex gave way to outright self-loathing, making her want to curl up in a ball and die.

The way Vicky was caressing her cheek had Patty tingling deliciously, and the warmth of the pink-haired teen’s smile was equally enticing. But aroused though she was, the little voice in the back of Patty’s mind wouldn’t be silenced. What you did was stupid, and worse, it was mean. You don’t deserve this, you don’t deserve ANYTHING, you should just—

All of this flashed through her mind in less than a second, while Vicky’s question still hung in the air—which would it be, a kiss or a movie?

Enough! Patty silently hissed at that hateful little demon who lurked at the back of her mind. It was a trick her therapist had taught her. You have no power over me. She was already feeling calmer. None. So shut. The fuck. UP!

Giving her head a hard little shake, she leaned forward. “I t-think a kiss sounds like a lot more fun,” she murmured.

Vicky’s smile got bigger, and her thumb moved to brush across her tall friend’s lips. That simple caress was all it took for Patty’s considerable arousal to take control, driving the mind-demon back into her cave—at least for now. Her paralysis broke. She reached out to cup Vicky’s cheeks between trembling hands.

Vicky closed the last few inches between them, pressing her mouth against Patty’s. Despite the buildup, the contact caught Patty a trifle off-guard, with her lips parted slightly. The question of whether to close them or leave them open was over almost before it took form. Vicky answered it by taking Patty’s lower lip between both of hers, then Patty simply gave herself over to the moment.

Deciding to be brave, she caressed Vicky’s upper lip with hers. Vicky was quick to respond, her body shivering, her tongue darting forward to tease Patty’s bottom lip.

The effect was like a dash of kerosene on burning coals. Patty’s already considerable ardor instantly flared into an urgent, all-consuming need. More than this, Vicky’s response gave Patty a welcome surge of confidence.

Patty experimentally flicked her tongue across Vicky’s upper lip. Vicky’s mouth opened wider in response, and their tongues met. For once, Patty found herself not thinking, not analyzing, just feeling, allowing events to unfold without fear. She even made the next move, using the tip of her tongue to caress Vicky’s in a circular motion.

Vicky responded in kind, and Patty let her take the lead. The kiss rapidly escalated from tentative to eager, their mouths crushed together, tongues engaged in a lusty dance. Vicky slung both arms around the taller girl’s shoulders, while Patty’s hands moved from Vicky’s cheeks to the back of her head, fingers twisting into pink-dyed hair.

Finally they parted. Opening her eyes, Patty spied Crissy over Vicky’s shoulder. The blonde’s cheeks were flushed, her breath shallow.

Crissy saw Patty looking and flashed a sheepish grin. “I’m not even gay,” Crissy breathed, “but that was hot.”

Vicky twisted to look back at Crissy. “Care to try it?”

Crissy’s look turned contemplative. “I’ve never even kissed a girl before—”

“Well,” said Vicky, “now’s your chance.”

Patty took care to keep her conflicting emotions from showing. The idea of watching Crissy and Vicky kiss was oddly compelling, but it was accompanied by a tinge of insecurity. At least Crissy has kissed someone before—how can I compete with that? She was sure to come off second-rate by comparison.

Vicky had already turned away from her, moving inexorably closer to Crissy. To Patty’s eyes, the two seemed almost magnetically drawn together, and she braced herself for the disappointment that had always defined what little social life she had, that feeling of always being the least important person in the room.

Vicky’s mouth closed over Crissy’s. The two kissed hesitantly at first, then with a growing confidence. It was a long, leisurely kiss, but without the raw passion that had occurred between Vicky and Patty.

Despite feeling somewhat marginalized, Patty had to admit that watching Vicky and Crissy kiss was getting her even more excited. She rested a hand on Vicky’s waist, waiting as patiently as she could.

The girls finally parted. Crissy gave her head a quick little shake. “Nice!” she breathed.

“As good as with a guy?” Vicky inquired, a teasing note in her voice.

“Different,” said Crissy, drawing in a shuddering breath. “But nice. I like them both.”

“Good.” Vicky turned around to face Patty again. “Now I want to watch you two kiss. If you want to, that is.”

Reaching across Vicky’s lap, Crissy placed her hand on Patty’s wrist. “Do you want to?”

Once again, Patty found herself locked in a brief internal conflict. She did want it, she wanted it all, but was dangerously close to an overstimulated state in which she’d simply shut down. She struggled with her fear for a few heartbeats, then threw caution to the wind. “Yeah,” she got out.

Crissy leaned across Vicky’s lap, and Patty met her halfway. There was no tentativeness in Crissy’s kiss; she met Patty boldly, mouth open. Patty decided to respond in kind, slipping her tongue into the blonde girl’s mouth. Patty felt Vicky’s fingertips tease her spine from behind, and found that to be even more exciting than the kiss. That feeling of overstimulation was slipping away, replaced by an elation that sat comfortably alongside her arousal. She was kissing and being kissed, being touched and enjoying it, and for this moment, Patty felt like the queen of the universe.

Then Crissy broke away, eyes shining, breath ragged. “Can I see you two kiss again? I loved watching that!”

Patty didn’t have to be told twice. This time she took the initiative, cupping Vicky’s chin in her palm and bringing their mouths together. Vicky was ready and then some, throwing both arms around the taller girl and drawing her close.

Deepening their kiss, Patty shifted her hands to Vicky’s waist, fingertips restlessly sliding back and forth just above the waistband of her friend’s fuzzy pajama bottoms. Without really meaning to, she tugged Vicky’s top up to caress the smooth bare skin underneath. Patty almost froze up when she realized what she was doing, but Vicky’s blissful purr made it clear that the girl enjoyed being touched.

But before Patty could take things further, Vicky’s lips were tracing her jawline, then moving down to the nape of the neck. A warm, soft mouth was brushing her sensitive skin, leaving kisses and playful love bites along the way.

Patty felt as if jolts of electric current were running from her neck, flowing straight down to what she thought of as the lady place. Her panties were wet enough to wring out like a washcloth.

Opening her eyes, the first thing Patty saw was Vicky’s ear, a few inches away from her mouth. On impulse, she captured the lobe between her teeth, giving it a light nip. A low moan escaped Vicky’s lips. Emboldened, Patty began nibbling her way up the back of the ear, reaching up to delicately trace the back of her friend’s neck with feather-light fingertips.

Vicky was moaning softly, slipping a hand beneath Patty’s plain white pajama top, her fingertips sliding across the taller girl’s belly.

Crissy chose this moment to heave herself from the couch, edge her way around the coffee table and perch on the edge of the love seat, staring wide-eyed at the two girls making out on the sofa.

Disengaging, they both turned to look at her. “You okay, Crissy?” Vicky got out. Her voice was slightly hoarse.

Crissy chuckled. “Just wanted a better view, is all. I’m enjoying the hell out of this.”

Vicky’s eyebrows went up. “You can’t really join in from there, though. Don’t you want to?”

“I’m having more fun just looking, I think. How weird is that?”

“That depends on how far this goes,” said Patty, then clapped a hand over her mouth, her cheeks coloring.

“Relax, Pats,” said Vicky. “It’s a good question, actually—what’s everyone here comfortable with?”

Patty let her hand drop into her lap, giving Vicky a grateful smile.

“I have a feeling that if I wasn’t here, you two would already be bare-ass naked,” Crissy declared. She let out a bark of laughter. “If you’re holding back because of me—well, don’t, okay?”

“Oh, I want to tear this girl apart,” Vicky confirmed. “You too, actually—but I don’t want to do anything anyone isn’t okay with.”

“What do you want to do, Patty?” asked Crissy.

“I just—” Patty hesitated, then plunged ahead. “I wanna follow this road as far as it goes. I’m so—you know—”

“Turned on. We all are,” said Crissy. “My only thing—we know where this is going, and it’s making me crazy hot, but I’m honestly not sure if I’m ready to do stuff with another girl just yet.” She grinned. “Guess I’m bi-curious, just not bi-ready.”

“So we stop here and watch a movie—?” said Vicky, challenge in her tone.

I knew it was too good to be true; Patty did her best to hide her disappointment. Later for other stuff, she admonished herself. She strongly sensed that there would be a later, that Vicky wanted it as much as she did. Then Crissy surprised her.

“No, I don’t mean that,” she said. “I’m totally getting off on this. Maybe that’s weird, but we’re all getting our freak on, right? Maybe that’s mine tonight. Can I just hang out and watch while you guys do—whatever?”

Vicky answered by trailing her fingertips up Patty’s arm. The tall, thin girl didn’t even try to suppress a delicious shiver. Leaning in, she planted soft kisses across Vicky’s eyebrow. With a shuddering sigh, Vicky allowed her eyes to drift shut.

“That’s so fucking hot,” Crissy murmured. “Wanna go to my room, so we have some space to get comfy?” Without waiting for an answer, she got to her feet.

Hand in hand, Vicky and Patty followed the shapely blonde down the hall. The moment the door was closed behind them, Vicky turned to the gangly brunette and pulled her close, standing on tiptoe to kiss her.

There was no more hesitation on Patty’s part. Placing one hand on the small of Vicky’s back and the other on her neck, she bent the shorter girl backwards, returning her kiss with a ferocity she’d not have thought herself capable of.

Vicky fumbled for the hem of Patty’s t-shirt, pulling the garment up as high as she was able.

Patty experienced a momentary twinge at the thought of having her breasts on display, but shoved her fears aside. Definitely NOT the time to be shy, girl. Taking a step back, she wriggled her top up and off, then dropped it to the floor. Fighting an impulse to fold both arms over her chest, she stood motionless, yet trembling inside as she let her friends look, desperately hoping they liked what they saw.

Despite being only fifteen and remarkably thin, Patty’s breasts were ripe, round, and full. Vicky ran both hands up the softness of Patty’s belly until she was cupping them, her fingers caressing and teasing. With a rapturous sigh, Patty closed her eyes and tipped her head back. When Vicky’s thumbs brushed her nipples, she whimpered, “Oh, my God,” and went up on her toes.

Now Vicky was wrapping her arms around the tall girl, moving forward to take the tip of a breast into her mouth. Patty buried her face in the petite girl’s pink hair and moaned as Vicky swirled her tongue around the stiffening nipple. A moment later, Vicky switched to the left breast, giving it the same loving treatment.

Patty twined her fingers through Vicky’s hair, then was distracted by a shaky whimper from the double bed.

Glancing up, she saw Crissy lounging against the wall, thighs spread wide, hands busy under her shirt, kneading and caressing her tits.

Crissy noticed Patty looking and grinned. “You two are just so fucking hot,” she murmured. Vicky swiveled her head to see what Crissy was doing. “Now there’s an idea,” she said, then tugged the baby blue nightgown over her head and cast it aside.

“Okay, then,” said Patty, shucking her pajama bottoms. Now she and Vicky stood facing each other, wearing nothing but panties, Crissy looking on appreciatively.

Deciding it was time to get comfy, Patty seized Vicky’s hand and led her to the bed. Crissy drew her legs in to make room until she was crosslegged against the wall. Vicky stretched out, resting her head on a pillow and beckoning Patty to join her.

Patty got on her knees, straddling Vicky’s hips, resting both hands on the pink-haired beauty’s taut belly. “Um, Vicky? Can I touch your boobs—”

“Yeah!” Vicky gasped, and Patty moved her hands those last few inches, lightly running her fingers over Vicky’s small but perfectly formed tits. Patty thrilled at the soft, smooth feel of the luscious globes under her fingers, as well as the ecstatic sounds Vicky made as she felt the girl up.

Patty couldn’t remember ever being this aroused. Her long fingers roamed freely, tracing and caressing the circumference of those pert little tits, then pausing to tweak and tease the nipples.

“Oh, god, that’s making me wet,” Vicky murmured.

“Yeah, me too,” said Patty.

“Me three!” Crissy pronounced. The other two looked in her direction just in time to see the blonde remove her PJ top, roll it into a ball, then toss it across the room into a laundry hamper. “Swish,” she said.

“Great aim,” Vicky told her. “Your tits are pretty nice, too.”

“For sure,” agreed Patty.

“Great tits all around,” said Crissy.

“But you’re still less naked than we are,” Vicky informed her.

Crissy raised an eyebrow, gazing defiantly at her friend as if accepting a challenge. “Oh, yeah?”

Twisting sideways to extend her legs, she lifted her butt, shucked off her pajama bottoms and panties in one shot, then turned back to them, cross-legged and lounging back just enough to put her cunt on full display. Her pubes were a few shades darker than the hair on her head, and the slightest hint of clitoral hood could be seen between her nether lips.

“Whoa,” Patty got out.

“Now who’s wearing too many clothes?” declared Crissy.

Patty shuffled back until she was straddling Vicky’s knees. She rested her hands on Vicky’s hips, fingertips lightly touching the elastic waistband of her friend’s panties. She forced herself to meet Vicky’s gaze; eye contact never came easily for her, especially when she was nervous. The gleam in the girl’s eyes went a long way towards stilling Patty’s fears. Inexperienced though she was, the serious, intense look of lust was impossible to miss.

Running her fingers along the waistband of Vicky’s panties, she managed to ask, “Can—can I take these—”

Vicky let out a single laugh. “It’s super sexy that you’re asking, but—God! Yes, please, girl. Take them off!”

Giving a low, throaty laugh of her own, Patty hooked her fingers into the elastic and tugged. Vicky lifted her ass, then drew both legs up, helping Patty get the garment free of her legs and feet. Patty rocked back, pausing to look her new lover up and down. Vicky’s glorious nudity, laid out on the bed for her to see, was even more of a thrill than their kissing and touching had been. Patty’s eyes strayed to Vicky’s pussy, which she’d shaved into a landing strip in emulation of her sister Julie.

“You’re so beautiful,” Patty murmured. “I can’t believe I get to see all of you.”

“Now it’s your turn, girl,” said Vicky. “C’mon, get naked!”

Patty slid to the edge of the bed, stood, and shoved her panties to the floor in a single defiant motion. She made to clamber back onto the mattress, but Vicky stayed her motion by grasping her wrist.

“Hold on. Let me look at you for a second,” Vicky murmured. Look, she did, her hungry eyes roving the tall, dark-haired beauty. Patty felt tremendously self-conscious, yet incredibly sexy. No matter her nerves, there was no mistaking the desire on Vicky’s face as the girl’s eyes perused her naked form. Vicky allowed her hand to stray to Patty’s knee, then slowly inch its way up a thigh. Patty trembled as that hand just barely slipped by her mound to splay out across her belly. Oh my God, so close.

“You want to be touched there, don’t you?” Vicky asked in that alluring murmur.

“I—I want to touch you there,” said Patty, a tremor in her voice.

Grinning, Vicky took Patty by the wrist, guiding her hand in the direction both girls wanted it to go. Patty knelt on the edge of the bed, hovering over Vicky as her fingertips made contact with bare belly, then continued their downward journey. Her hands were beginning to shake, and Vicky couldn’t help but notice. Shifting her grip from Patty’s wrist, she took the dark-haired girl’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“You okay?” she asked hesitantly. “Are you sure you want this?”

Patty nodded, too overwhelmed to speak. Tugging her hand from Vicky’s grasp, she slid her fingers down those last few inches. Vicky raised her hips and sucked her breath in through clenched teeth as Patty caressed those moist, silky pussy lips. Tracing her middle finger down the slit, she felt a delicious thrill course through her at the wetness that instantly coated her fingertip. Vicky whimpered. Bracing herself, Patty eased that finger between the labial folds, pausing when she found the hard nub of the clitoris. She traced a slow circle around it, eliciting a thrust of the hips and a harsh, shuddering breath.

“Is that good?” Patty whispered, still drawing circles.

“Mmm-hmm,” Vicky responded, her lips pressed tightly together.

“You want me to do more?”

“Anything you want!” gasped Vicky, her hips rising once again from the mattress.

With a tremulous sigh, Crissy impatiently swept her bangs to one side, the other hand busy between her thighs. Patty glanced up to see Crissy furiously masturbating, raptly watching the show she and Vicky were putting on with eyes wide. Crissy’s face was flushed, her mouth slack.

Surrendering her inhibitions, Patty impulsively decided to do what she’d always fantasized she would if given free access to another girl’s cunt. Moving fast to get there before she chickened out, Patty slid down the bed, spread Vicky’s legs open with both hands and settled between them on her belly. She took a deep breath and lowered her head, thrusting her tongue between Vicky’s slick, sweet pussy lips.

“Oh, okay,” Vicky gasped, then Patty’s tongue brushed across her clit, and her breath hitched. “D-don’t stop,” she stammered, winding her fingers into Patty’s hair.

Operating on instinct, along with what she’d observed in a few dozen girl/girl movie clips, Patty went to work on Vicky’s clit, circling it with the tip of her tongue, then taking up a swift back and forth motion.

“Holy crap,” Vicky moaned, her pelvis shifting in response. “Th-that’s really good, Patty. Ooohh!”

Struggling to keep her mouth where she wanted it, Patty gripped Vicky’s bottom, holding the smaller girl in place. Vicky wrapped both legs around Patty’s shoulders,  cries and gasps escaping her parted lips.

As she made love to another girl for the first time, Patty felt the fire within her own body rise to the boiling point. Every nerve ending tingled, every sense was utterly and enticingly alive. The taste and smell of Vicky’s cunt, the sweet sounds of ecstasy she made, the muscles of the girl’s buttocks contracting and releasing in her palms… these things and more pushed Patty to what felt like a higher state of being.

Nirvana, she told herself. That’s what the Buddhists call it. The Sikhs, too. 

Her own pussy was drenched and throbbing like crazy. Patty knew that when it was her turn to get licked, it wouldn’t take long to reach the pinnacle.

Vicky was now panting hoarsely with every breath, thrusting her hips. Patty hung on for the ride, never slackening her pace or losing the rhythm.

“Oh God, I’m gonna come,” Vicky murmured, almost matter-of-factly. But there was nothing matter-of-fact about the moans that broke from her throat as she reached her moment. She cried out over and over, grinding her pussy against Patty’s mouth, then abruptly subsided, her muscles going slack.

Patty set her down all the way on the bed, sliding up Vicky’s body until she was lying atop her, nuzzling the nape of her neck.

“Oh, God, kiss me,” Vicky mumbled.

Patty obliged, and Vicky drove her tongue into the girl’s mouth, purring contentedly as she tasted herself. They kissed long and tenderly, then parted as they became aware of Crissy’s purrs of pleasure. Their friend was pressing her head against the wall, fingers a blur between her legs, eyes fixed on the lovers stretched out in repose.

“Are you about to come, Crissy?” asked Vicky.

Crissy let out a short, sharp cry as she pressed two fingers deep into her cunt. She drew them slowly in and out, a squishy wet sound accompanying her movements.

“Not yet,” she breathed. “I’m edging right now.”

“I need to come!” Patty blurted, instantly berating herself for blurting the first thing that popped into her head. God, so lame.

But Vicky just grinned. “Sit on my face,” she commanded.

Patty gave her head a quick shake. “Huh?” Then she realized what Vicky meant; she’d seen it in a couple of porn videos. Getting to her knees, she scooted upwards, then lowered herself to the girl’s full, beautiful lips. Vicky grabbed her ass, pulled her close, then took that first luscious lick.

The feeling of a warm, wet tongue sliding across her clitoris for the first time in her life drew an instant, powerful reaction from Patty. An intense burst of pleasure surged through her, and she moaned aloud. The next wave tore another cry from her lips, and she began to rock her hips against Vicky’s busy tongue. Her earlier assessment had been correct; she wasn’t going to last long at all.

Sure enough, all at once she felt an orgasm rising, so fast and intense that it stole her breath away. Patty began to howl—just letting it ring out, for once not self-conscious, for once not giving a fuck who heard or saw.

A matching wail from a short distance away drew her eyes to Crissy, who was fucking herself with one hand and rubbing her clit with the other in a frenzy that was swiftly mounting into rapture.

All of a sudden, Crissy was there. “Oh God, I’m coming I’m coming I’m coming!” she wailed.

Then Patty was coming too—powerful, ecstatic convulsions taking control of every muscle in her body. The two girls moaned in tandem, crying out repeatedly in the throes of their passion, with Crissy’s voice subsiding moments before Patty’s climax waxed and waned.

A twinge of dizziness hit Patty when she opened her eyes, as if the world had come unmoored from its axis. Placing both hands on the bed before daring to move, she dismounted Vicky’s face, then collapsed alongside the shorter girl in a sodden, panting heap.

Through the haze, she felt Vicky draw her close in a tight, comforting hug. Patty returned it, suddenly fighting back tears of joy. These were tears that came with the realization that so much of what she’d assumed about herself was wrong, and maybe she wasn’t a loser after all. Vicky sure doesn’t think so, she told herself, resting her head on the girl’s shoulder, and neither does Crissy. A tear threatened to spill over, and Patty surreptitiously brushed it away. Maybe I’ll have a good cry when I get home, she decided, but not right now. This had been a night for the shedding of inhibitions, but she couldn’t discard them all at once.

Crissy was still lounging against the wall, her grin befitting the cat that ate the canary. “So… I guess I’m a lesbian voyeur,” she said, laughter in her voice. “Who knew?”

“Maybe so,” Vicky purred, placing a hand on her friend’s thigh, “but if we do this again, I’m totally gonna want to taste that pussy of yours.”

“M-me too,” Patty chimed in. “You’ve got a great body, Cris.”

Crissy reached up to cup her left breast, giving her friends a sultry smile. “Well, I’m not saying no…”

***

Ellen Brentshaw picked her way across the living room of her dilapidated double-wide, taking care to skirt the rotted, spongy spot in the middle of the floor, courtesy of a roof leak her late and not terribly lamented husband had never got around to fixing. A month after his passing, she’d used his meager insurance payout to recoat the aged sheet tin. No more drip-drip-drip, but the goddamn floor was already shot. And moldy, too; you could smell it. Oh, well.

The knock came again just as she was tottering up to the front door. “Hold your horses!” she snapped, twisting the deadbolt back with a loud click. She pulled the door inward, and her daughter brushed past her into the house. At age forty-seven, Shannon was beginning to go to flesh, and trying to hide it with clothing a couple of sizes too big. The faded green t-shirt and thrift-store jeans hung off of her in a most unflattering way.

Shannon strode straight across the room, the floor sagging to an alarming degree when she trod upon the water-rotted patch. “Jesus,” she muttered, taking a skipping step to get out of the danger zone. “You really need to get that fixed, Ma.” She plopped unceremoniously onto the couch.

“You got the cash for it?” Ellen retorted, shuffling her way back across the room.

Ignoring the invitation to part with hard-earned legal tender, Shannon rubbed her eyes, then fixed them on Ellen as the old lady settled into her venerable but still comfy old glider. Shannon, Ellen reflected, had been a real head-turner when she was young, and would still look pretty damn good if it wasn’t for the extra pudge she was packing.

“It’s worse than we thought, Ma,” Shannon said after a moment’s silence.

Ellen narrowed her eyes. “Worse how?”

“Our guess was right—the feds have someone new working for them. Some broad. Whoever it is took a guess at what kind of car our boy was driving, got hold of some gas station cam footage, and that’s how they tracked him down. We’re just goddamn lucky he’s careful around security cams. They didn’t get a fix on his face.”

Ellen raised her eyebrows. “And just how in the dickens do you know that?”

“I fucked a sheriff’s deputy.”

“That’ll get the job done,” said Ellen, absentmindedly scratching her ear.

“They have to have made the connection, Ma. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“You always knew someone might. What’s your point?”

Shannon blew out her breath. “After fifteen years, I didn’t think it was all that likely. Or that it’d happen that fast. But even with that—Mister Two-pump Chump said this lady breezed in and blew the whole thing open in a couple of hours. Good thing that guy at the service shop didn’t like the pigs, or our boy would’ve been caught for sure.”

Ellen nodded slowly. “So who is this girl?”

“The cops don’t have a name. Sounds like none of them actually saw her or talked to her; just the feds. The deputy said the agents talked about this bitch like she was queen mama of The Three Investigators. What worries me is they still might have her trying to hunt us up.”

Ellen shook her head. “I’d be surprised. They got their little lambs back, didn’t they? They’re always stretched thin, that’s how you kept ahead of them before.”

“Until we fucking didn’t.”

Ellen’s gnarled fingers probed around on an end table for a pack of cigarettes. Between the arthritis and the now-constant tremors, it was a chore shaking one out and lighting up, but as always, she managed. She took a long drag, then blew out a plume of smoke with a deep, contented sigh.

“You’d have stayed ahead if a certain dumbass hadn’t left his squawk box where a little lamb could put hands on it,” she pointed out.

Shannon pursed her lips and said nothing, unable to argue the point.

“Point is,” Ellen went on, “little lambs back, no good leads, onto the next case. Unless you think there’s something in the car that might tell a tale…?”

“Shouldn’t be.”

“Then what’re you worrying about?”

“The stakes going up. We got caught once. Don’t think it can’t happen again.”

Ellen’s mouth tightened. “Have you stopped to think that maybe you have enough, and it’s time to stop?”

Shannon gave her head a hard shake. “It isn’t enough. Not until the shroud is finished, Ma. I’m not even close.” She looked down at her hands. “Besides, I don’t think he can stop. It’s—it’s oxygen to him. And I have to help whether I’m finished or not, because if he gets picked up—”

“So what’s your plan?”

“We need to find out who this new super-sleuth is.  See what we have to do to un-sleuth her.”

“You mean kill her.”

“If we have to.”

Ellen took another drag on her cigarette. “You got a plan for getting a name?”

“Not yet. But I will.”

“So figure it out, then we’ll chew the fat some more.”

“Fine.” Pushing herself off the couch, Shannon launched herself across the room, nearly falling on her face as the center of the floor sagged beneath her sneaker.

“Jesus Christ, Ma.”

On to Chapter Twenty-Three!

The Story Thus Far

Chapter 1: In which Sarah and Frankie peruse some rather risqué entertainment, then get intimately acquainted with a pair of soiled undies. Who says staying at home on weekends is boring?

Chapter 2: In which Kerry comes home, the Panty Fairy pays a visit, Sarah confides in her sister Judy, Kerry catches a whiff of pussy on Mummy’s fingers, and plans are made to let Kerry watch Sarah and Frankie have sex. Goodness me!

Chapter 3: In which Sarah and Kerry’s pussy-smelling game escalates, Sarah has a quick diddle in the school carpark, and Sarah and Frankie put their unorthodox sex education lesson into motion. Oh, and a traumatised teddy bear called Mr. Ruffles.

Chapter 4: In which smelling becomes tasting, and a visit to the bird sanctuary turns into an afternoon of naughty panty-modeling fun with Sarah, Judy and five-year-old Izzy. Bloody hell, now sister and niece are in on the act!

Chapter 5: In which poor Mr Ruffles suffers more teddy abuse, Sarah and Kerry’s kinky game goes one step further, and Judy pops round for coffee with little Izzy. A shared lollipop leads to more sharing. Appalling!

Chapter 6: In which Frankie and Sarah tiptoe into Kerry’s bedroom while she’s asleep, and an innocent picnic for the children turns into an afternoon of amateur taboo photography. Snap snap snap!

by BlueJean

1

Frankie spent most of Sunday in self-imposed exile in our bedroom, editing the footage Judy and I had taken of Kerry and Izzy the day before. I think it would’ve taken her half the time if she hadn’t done most of the work with a hand down her knickers.

The resulting video was twenty-three minutes long, and Frankie put some nice fade-ins/fade-outs on each scene to make the whole thing seem less sporadic. It wasn’t exactly BAFTA material, but we were all rather pleased with the results.

That night Frankie and I went to bed early and frigged ourselves silly watching it. It’s still our go-to wank material when we’re feeling especially filthy. We sent Judy a copy, with strict instructions not to upload it to Facebook by accident.

2

When Monday morning came round again I was absolutely knackered, counting my blessings that I worked from home. Once I’d dropped Kerry off at school, I had every intention of going back to bed for a couple of hours.

Kerry, of course, was bouncing with restless energy, and very much wanted to play dirty games at the breakfast table. She was becoming quite the sexual deviant, and I wondered how that might manifest itself in her teenage years. I didn’t dwell on it, though – you see, by that point I’d already begun to close my mind to the potential consequences of what we were doing with the children. They were happy, and that was enough to ease my nagging conscience.

“Are you going to rub your panties on my face again, Mummy?” Kerry said as I sat opposite her drinking my coffee.

I shook my head, chuckling at her candidness. “Uh-uh.”

“Why not? I like how they smell. How about just letting me taste your fingers, then?”

“If you want to keep doing all that stuff, we should probably do it after school. Then we’ll have more time to enjoy ourselves.”

Judging from her wide grin, Kerry thought that was a great idea. “Look under the table,” she said.

When I peered beneath the table, Kerry had hiked her gingham dress up, pulled her knickers to one side, and was pumping the smooth plastic end of her breakfast spoon in and out of her pussy.

I was surprised, to say the least. “Did you break your hymen?” I asked.

“Huh?”

“Did you, uh, put something up there and suddenly found it went right in where it wouldn’t before? Was there pain, maybe some blood?”

“Oh, yeah, that was ages ago. When I saw you and Frankie putting your fingers in there, I wondered what it was like. It didn’t hurt that much, just a little sting. I thought I’d broken myself, but there wasn’t much blood. Was it okay that I did that?”

I took a mouthful of coffee, then gave her a shrug. “It’s not a big deal, really. It happens sooner or later. They used to call it ‘losing your virginity’ back when people were stupid. Or maybe just stupider.”

“When can I watch you and Frankie do sex again?”

I reached across the table to pinch Kerry’s cheeks, much to her delight. “Sex, sex, sex! Is that all you ever think about, Kerry Louise Hudson?”

“No, not all the time.”

“You can watch us again on Friday night. That way, we can all stay up late without having to worry about work or school.”

“Aww, Friday’s ages away!”

“I’m sure we’ll find ways to take your mind off it. Eat your breakfast. We need to get you to school.”

3

Having dropped Kerry off at school and watched her race over to meet her friends in the playground, I sat in the car and debated whether to hang around and check out all the other little girls. Maybe pop the button on my trousers and have a sneaky diddle.

I’d just about convinced myself that it was a splendid idea, when Kerry’s teacher, Miss Blake, trotted over to the car. I think her first name was Felicity or Felicia or Fellatio, something like that. She was a mousy little woman with a penchant for cardigans, quite pretty in a I’m-totally-unaware-that-I’m-attractive kind of way.

I’m also convinced that Miss Blake is hot for me. Frankie says I’m full of crap, but I know the signs when I see them. Okay, so she has a boyfriend, but then, Oscar Wilde was married to a woman, and he was the queerest man in the known world. Besides, all women have a lesbian fighting to get out. Fact.

I wound the window down and gave Miss Blake a smile.

Kerry’s teacher did this sort of breathless laugh, like running over to a car was just about the wackiest thing ever. “Hi, Sarah, how’re you?”

“Yeah, I’m good, thanks. Is everything okay?”

“Absolutely fine. No, it’s just a quickie. It’s a little embarrassing, actually.”

“Oh?”

“Um… how can I put this? Kerry’s, uh, well – she’s been flashing her bits around.”

I could feel a dull horror creeping up my spine. “Bits?”

“Yeah, you know,” Miss Blake gestured to her crotch with a wince, then mouthed, “bits.”

“Oh. I see.”

“I mean, listen, I’m not overly concerned. It’s pretty normal. Kerry’s getting to that age where boys and girls are beginning to grow conscious of, uh, their bodies, and she’s certainly not the only girl in school doing that sort of thing. Exposing herself, I mean. But it’s part of my job to,” Miss Blake made air quotes, “‘flag it up’, you know? And, er, to ask if everything’s okay at home.”

The fuck. What on earth was she implying? That I was exposing my eight-year-old daughter to sex? Well, yeah, I was doing that. But even so, I wasn’t bloody well putting up with Kerry’s teacher accusing me of doing something unsavoury. Even if it was true. Which it was.

“Yeah, of course everything’s okay at home. Why wouldn’t it be?” I said defensively, then narrowed my eyes. “Wait, wait. Does this have something to do with the fact that I’m in a relationship with another woman, by any chance?”

Yeah, I know. I played the lesbian discrimination card. Pretty underhanded, right?

It worked, though. Miss Blake looked horrified at the very idea. “No, no, no! That’s not what I’m— No, God, I wouldn’t – I’d never…” She brought her hands up to her face in a gesture of prayer, closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again. “It’s school policy, Sarah. That’s all it is. We’re told to look out for signs that something might be amiss, but like I say, I’m not worried. Kerry’s always been a happy kid.” After an uncomfortable pause, Miss Blake added, “She – she talks about your partner Frankie a lot!”

“They absolutely adore each other,” I said.

Miss Blake practically melted into a puddle on the spot. “Awwww, that’s so sweet!”

I took my wallet out and produced a photograph of Frankie. It was one of my favorites, taken outside a nightclub a couple of years back. Frankie is looking all pouty and sexy in a snug X-Ray Spex tee. No bra, of course. I held the picture up for Kerry’s teacher to see. “This is Frankie.”

I’m pretty sure Miss Blake creamed her knickers there and then. “Omigod, Sarah, she’s gorgeous!”

“You think so?” I asked casually, knowing full well my girlfriend was the very definition of sex appeal.

“Yes! You lucky bitch!” She slapped a hand to her mouth. “I… I just called you a bitch, didn’t I? I apologise.”

I could only laugh. “It’s okay. Frankie calls me a bitch sometimes, too.” I flashed my eyes. “Mostly in the bedroom.”

Miss Blake trapped her lower lip between her teeth. “Oh… well, that’s… mmm.”

I let that image sink in for a moment. When I spoke again, she nearly jumped out of her skin. “Anyway, I should be getting back. Nice talking to you.”

Miss Blake glanced down at her watch, then gave a little gasp. “Goodness! I need to get to class!”

“I’ll have a word with Kerry about her ‘bits’. We don’t need to take this any further, do we?”

The young teacher gave her head a rapid shake. “Absolutely not! I feel stupid having brought it up now. Take care, Sarah! Send my love to Frankie! No, don’t do that, I’ve never even met her!” She bunched her hands into fists and muttered, “Jesus… shut up, Felicity. Uh, bye, Sarah!”

“Bye.”

I half expected her to turn back, cross her eyes in a passing impression of Columbo and say, “Oh, just one more thing…” but instead, she scurried back towards the school and disappeared inside the building.

Kerry’s mousy little teacher could be a potential problem, I considered. But I was confident I could run rings around her. A little subtle flirting could work wonders, and Miss Blake was clearly bi-curious; probably hankering for some girl-on-girl action.

Still, we needed to be more careful. Kerry needed to be more careful.

4

When I picked Kerry up from school later, I took the opportunity to have a quiet word with her. “Your teacher says you’ve been flashing your pussy about,” I said matter-of-factly, because there was really no discreet way to put it.

Startled, Kerry was quick to deny any wrongdoing. “Huh? Um, no, I haven’t.”

“Well, Miss Blake wouldn’t say something like that if it wasn’t true, would she?”

“I’m not the only one doing it,” she muttered, staring down at her knees.

“I’m sure you’re not, but we have to be really careful, Kerry. Anything that draws attention to what we’re doing at home could get us into serious trouble.”

For a moment, Kerry looked like she wanted to argue the point, but settled for a morose sigh instead. “O-kay. Sorry.”

I took a hand off the wheel and rested it in her lap. “You don’t need to apologise. Just try to be more careful.”

In response, Kerry grabbed my wrist and guided me up her dress. I could feel the warmth of her pussy through her panties.

“Uh… not ideal, Kerry. You’ll make me crash the car.”

When she reached across to slide her hand up my skirt, I knew I had to put a stop to things. I withdrew my hand and then plucked hers from between my legs. “What did I just say about being careful? Not here, Kerry.”

My daughter had a mischievous glint in her eye. “Where, then? I want to play.” She slipped two fingers beneath the elastic of her knickers, then brought them to my nose.

I gave her a disapproving side glance, but my pussy was already beginning to stir. No surprise there – it seemed like I was in a constant state of arousal these days. I squeezed my thighs together to give myself some relief. “Well, wait until we get home, at least.”

When I parked the car in the driveway five minutes later, the light had begun to fade from the sky. I switched the engine off and killed the lights, then glanced in the rearview mirror. Living on a busy commuter street, there was usually a constant stream of people walking by at this time of day, but I’d parked facing the back wall, and it was dark enough that no one would see much. Not that they had any reason to look our way. That’s the weird thing about living in the city: there’s so many people, we all just stop noticing one another eventually.

We could’ve gone indoors, of course. We should’ve gone indoors. But cars are cocoons, safe, seemingly impenetrable. We do things in cars we wouldn’t contemplate doing anywhere else – sing along to the radio at the top of our voice because there’s nobody else there to tell us we sound like cats being strangled. Beep our horns at other drivers for minor misdemeanours whilst accusing them of being ‘fucking idiots’ because we know we don’t have to look them in the eye and defend our aggression. We pick our noses, scratch our crotches, fart, have arguments with ourselves, retreat to our happy places, sometimes our unhappy places.

I’d sat in the car at Kerry’s school and masturbated while watching all the cute little girls running around the playground, delighting in the occasional flash of knickers. Because it seemed like that might be an okay thing to do, as if a car was a one-way mirror, allowing you to see out but no one else to see in.

I hadn’t touched Kerry yet, not intimately, not skin on skin. Because in my fucked-up mind, letting my daughter suck pussy juice from my fingers didn’t really count. Nor did rubbing my panty-covered cunt against her face. It was me touching her that counted. There were bad words for that, I knew, words I didn’t want to contemplate.

But where would be the harm, there in the car, the two of us shut off from the world? What happened in the car stayed there, didn’t it?

“Now,” I said, giving Kerry a sultry look, “where were we?” I hiked my skirt up around my waist and took Kerry’s hand, placing it firmly on the crotch of my now damp panties. My cunt was throbbing. “Pull your dress up, sweetie.”

Clearly thrilled by this unexpected development, Kerry did as I asked, allowing me to trail two fingers up and down the cleft of her pussy through the lilac knickers she wore, pushing the soft cotton into her puffy crack. I placed my free hand atop hers, pressing her fingers firmly into my sex, encouraging exploration.

“So who were you showing your pussy to?” I asked as we fondled one another.

“Just some of the other girls,” Kerry told me. “I dared them to show me theirs, but only Emily would.”

“Does Emily have a nice pussy?”

Kerry nodded. “It’s really pink and small.”

“You need to stop doing it at school, though. I nearly had a heart attack when Miss Blake told me.”

“I like doing it, though,” Kerry said with a halfhearted pout.

Of course she did. Don’t all little girls like to display themselves? I’m pretty sure I read somewhere it’s a primate thing – boys fight each other and act like idiots, girls show their pussies. We all have our evolutionary crosses to bear, I suppose.

“So do it at home instead,” I told Kerry. “I’m sure Frankie’s eyes would pop out of her head if you flashed your pussy at her.”

“Really?” Kerry said with a giggle.

“Well, I don’t think her eyes would actually pop out. Hard to tell with Frankie. She can be weird.”

“No, I mean, can I really do that at home?”

I rolled my shoulders into a shrug. Fuck, when did I get so nonchalant about everything? “Sure. It’s a pretty normal thing for a young girl to be doing. But home is safer.” I was getting so turned on I could feel my cunt leaking. “I think it’s about time we took our panties off, don’t you?”

I retrieved my hand from between Kerry’s legs, then slipped my knickers down, losing them in the footwell. Kerry went to do the same, but paused to smell my scent on her fingers.

“Come on, sweetie, get those knickers off,” I almost growled, reaching across to help her slide them down her legs. “Mummy wants to finger you.”

I brought the warm cotton to my face without thinking. Whatever my daughter got up to at school had left her knickers infused with a fruity musk. “Ooh, yeah,” I muttered, then pocketed the soiled undies. “I’ll have to save these for later.”

Kerry gave me a little smirk. “All right. I don’t mind if you borrow them.”

I spread my legs as wide as the cramped space would allow, then encouraged Kerry to do the same. Our fingers found each other again, this time with no panties to hinder us. I coated a finger in saliva, smeared it across my daughter’s slit, then penetrated her with it. “Fuck me with your fingers, Peanut. Put two inside.”

“Okay.” Kerry’s fingers plunged into me with a slippery ease. “Like this?”

“That’s it. Now push them in and out. A little quicker. A little harder. Oh, yeah, that’s it. Fuck me, Kerry.”

The air in the car was thick with our combined arousal. I breathed it in as we went at each other like two teenagers behind the bike sheds. Kerry was hot, tight and silky smooth, like dipping a finger into liquid velvet.

And still I somehow managed to convince myself that this wasn’t really sex. We weren’t licking or rubbing against each other. We weren’t doing the big stuff. Just a little harmless finger-play.

You and your eight-year-old daughter are fingering each other in the car while people walk by. That’s what you’re doing right now. Idiot.

Shut up. I’m gonna come.

Good for you. Congratulations.

Kerry began moving her hips in rhythm with my finger. “It feels really nice.”

“You like it when Mummy fingers your pussy?”

“Mmm.”

“Good. You smell so nice, baby.”

“So do you.”

I brushed a thumb across my clit. I was so close now. “Keep fucking me, Kerry. I’m gonna come on your fingers. Is it okay if I do that?”

“Yeah.” Kerry was dreamy-eyed with pleasure. I knew she was close, but had to wonder if she’d ever managed to make herself come before.

“You’ve got such a tight little baby cunt,” I blurted before my orgasm crashed into me. I grabbed Kerry’s wrist and held her fingers inside me while my spasming pussy clamped around them. “Oh, fuck! Fuck yeah! So fucking good!”

“Don’t stop doing it to me, Mummy!” Kerry squealed, so with the aftermath of my climax still rippling through me, I got back to fucking her, reaching across with my other hand to stroke her little clitty.

Kerry gazed at me open-mouthed until I felt the walls of her pussy contract and squeeze my finger. She let out a breathless groan, then slumped back in her seat. “Um… I might’ve peed myself.”

“That’s not what happened. You just had an orgasm, Peanut.”

“‘Kay.”

“Was that your first time?”

Kerry managed a shrug. “Dunno.”

I pushed her school dress back in place, then smoothed it out with maternal attentiveness. “You don’t know?”

“It never happened as big as that before. Maybe the other times weren’t actual orgasms.”

I reached across to stroke her hair. “Well. It’s not an exact science, I suppose. As long as it feels good, that’s what matters.”

If you’d asked me a year ago if a girl as young as Kerry could reach orgasm, I’d have told you no. Since then, I’ve seen videos of even younger girls coming. Frankie says even babies can come, though I’ve not quite plucked up the courage to ask her how she could possibly know that.

“We made the windows all steamy,” Kerry pointed out, drawing a big heart on the glass.

I kissed her on the nape of her neck. “Let’s go indoors.”

5

Frankie was in the lounge finishing up her blog posts. She glanced up at us briefly, then returned her attention to her laptop. “Thought I heard the car pull in. What were you two doing out there?”

I sauntered behind the couch and leaned in to put my arms around her. “Nothing much,” I said, kissing her on the cheek.

Kerry parked herself in the easy chair on the other side of the coffee table. I gave her a sly wink.

“I’ve told Kerry she can watch us make love again,” I said casually.

The click click click of keystrokes ceased. “Do I get any say in the matter?”

“Nah.”

Frankie peered back at me. “Okay, then. Guess I’ll just have to go along with it.”

I kissed her on the nape. “That’s the spirit.”

“Mummy says we’ll do it Friday,” Kerry added, fidgeting in her chair.

“Friday. Right. Noted.”

I brought a finger to Frankie’s nose, the same one I’d fucked Kerry with.

Frankie’s eyes lit up. “Oh… What?”

With Frankie momentarily distracted, I used the other hand to mime pulling my skirt up, nodding to Kerry.

Kerry understood. She drew her feet up onto the chair, spread her knees apart, then slowly hiked her school dress up.

I waited for that to sink in, then wafted my finger under Frankie’s nose again. “Connecting the dots yet, sweetheart?”

“Fuck…” Frankie whispered, staring at my little girl’s cunt. “Er… what happened to your panties, Kerry?”

I drew the lilac knickers from my pocket and attached them to my girlfriend’s face. “They’re right here.”

“Omigod,” Frankie mumbled through the soiled cotton. I pushed them over her head and left them draped round her neck, then prised Frankie’s laptop from her fingers, laying it down on the coffee table.

“You can finish that later. I’m going to masturbate now. And Kerry… well, she can do what she likes with you.”

Having unzipped my skirt and stepped out of it, I parked myself in the other easy chair opposite the coffee table and spread my legs apart, making it clear I was also sans panties. “Well, what are you waiting for, Kerry? Go have some fun with Frankie.”

Kerry bounced off the chair and onto her feet. “What, like sexy fun, you mean?”

“Sure.”

“What shall I do?”

Another careless shrug. “Whatever you like. It’s up to you. Pretend Frankie’s one of your school friends.”

Frankie cleared her throat. “Hi. I’m actually still in the room, you know.” She gave me and Kerry a little wave. “See? Here I am!”

“Shush!” Kerry and I said in unison.

Kerry marched over to Frankie and lifted her dress. “Do you like it, Frankie?”

Frankie could only gawp at Kerry’s hairless pussy. She’s a blatant gawper. She could turn gawping into an olympic sport. “It’s… beautiful.”

“Can you see it good enough? ‘Cause I can give you a closer look, if you want.”

“I mean… I wouldn’t say no to a better look. If that’s an option.” Frankie looked across at me. “Is it?”

I gave her a slow nod, my fingers lightly stroking the cleft of my sex.

Kerry dragged the coffee table out of the way. “Okay, this is what Emily and me do in the field next to the playground.” She pointed at the carpet. “Frankie, you lay down here.”

Intrigued, Frankie abandoned the couch and stretched out on the rug, peering up at Kerry with wide, blinking eyes. “Like this?”

“Yeah. Now wait.”

“I’m not going anywhere, trust me.”

Stepping over Frankie, my daughter lifted her dress again. “See?”

“Yeah. I can definitely see that.”

“Take a good long look. Aaaand… okay, stop.” Kerry let her dress drop. “Now you have to close your eyes.”

Frankie complied. “Okay.”

Kerry stepped over Frankie’s head and bent her knees into a slight squat. The dress came up once more. “You can open them again.”

Frankie’s eyes flickered open. She squeezed her thighs together. “Fuck, that’s so hot. Did I win?”

“Huh? No, you don’t win or lose. It’s just for fun.”

“Right.”

My fingers had found a familiar rhythm now, strumming back and forth across my clit as I watched Kerry playing her little game.

Kerry sank down another couple of inches. “Close enough, Fran-kee?” she asked in a sassy voice.  “You want it clo-ser?”

“Yes. Closer.”

Kerry squatted lower still. Her bare pussy was a foot away from Frankie’s face. “How’s that? E-ven clo-ser…?”

“Yes!”

Another three inches. I knew Frankie would be able to smell my daughter now, the scent of a little girl who’s been playing naughty games at school all day. The thought sent a ripple of pleasure through me.

“What about now, Fran-keeee? Is this close enough?”

“Closer!”

Kerry dropped into a full squat, her pussy a mere four inches from Frankie’s face. Kerry tucked the hem of her dress under her chin and regarded Frankie with a little smirk. “I can’t get it any closer, ’cause you won’t be able to see it properly if I do. Emily went all cross-eyed when I did that. But I can do this.” She prised her pussy open, letting Frankie take in the sight.

Frankie must have been soaking her knickers. I would’ve if I’d been wearing any. Instead, I frigged myself silly, probing the boundaries of my orgasm before pulling back at the last moment. Not now. Not yet.

But I was so, so close; enough that my voice was shaking when I told Kerry, “Finger yourself for Frankie.”

Kerry wasted no time in cramming a finger inside her pussy, lewdly pumping it back and forth. Frankie slipped a hand between her own legs to rub herself through her jeans. “Oh, Sarah… I am so fucking turned on right now.”

I took myself towards the edge again; denied myself release once more. “Stick that finger in Frankie’s mouth, Kerry.”

No hesitation. Straight from her pussy to Frankie’s parted lips. “There you go, Frankie. Hope you like it.”

I think Frankie liked it a lot.

“Back in your pussy, Peanut. Make it all juicy for Frankie.” I could hear the liquid sounds of Kerry’s finger pistoning in and out. I worked my cunt; pulled back at the last moment. Couldn’t contain it much longer. By then, my hands were shaking. “B-back in her mouth. Quickly!”

Frankie sucked my little girl’s finger greedily. Her legs spasmed out, and I knew she was coming. Kerry pulled her finger free and wagged it at Frankie. “Uh-uh-uh. That’s enough for you, Fran-kee.”

A single drop of fluid dripped from Kerry’s slit to splash against Frankie’s lips. I finally allowed my climax to consume me, fully giving myself over to sweet oblivion. I wailed something incoherent, then slumped back into the chair.

I’m not sure how long it was before I was able to make sense of anything. I opened my eyes to find Frankie and Kerry staring at me.

“Yay for cummies…” I mumbled.

6

Later that evening, the three of us were sitting on the couch watching TV in our pyjamas. Kerry, as usual, was curled up between Frankie and me.

It was so strange how we could just slot back into our normal lives after indulging in such debauchery, as if we were all doing our utmost to pretend nothing had happened.

“Mum, Frankie’s picking her nose,” Kerry announced, rousing me from my reverie.

“Mmm? Oh, she’s not very ladylike, I’m afraid.”

Frankie pulled her finger out of her nostril and waved it in front of Kerry. “Wanna see?”

Kerry recoiled in horror. “Urgh, no!”

Frankie gave a gleeful titter. “Relax, there’s nothing there.”

My girlfriend could be such a child. There was a time when I thought it was endearing and cute, but when you reach a point in your life where you can no longer tell right from wrong, you rely on the people closest to you to pull you back from the brink. And Frankie was never going to be much help in that regard, especially considering she was the one who opened Pandora’s Box in the first place.

That’s a crock of shit and you know it. Frankie may have brought the box home, but it was you that opened it up and then proceeded to jump inside without a care in the world.

All this goes through my mind. But it’s hazy, background noise, a frantic, panic-stricken voice shouting to me from somewhere far away.

A siren was blaring outside. There are always sirens going past our house, but now I feel myself tense when I hear one getting closer. The sound faded away and I relaxed again. My mouth curled up into a smile. I smile a lot these days.

On to Chapter Eight!

For a brief description of what takes place in each of the previous chapters, visit this page.

For a list of the characters from the story you are now reading, visit this page. 

For a list of the characters from the previous two stories that you will encounter here as well, visit this page.

And now, dear readers, we make our way into the next installment. Read on…

by Rachael Yukey

Chapter 21

I never needed love before
Until I met you girl
A girl like you I have never seen
You came into my life like a whirlwind girl
You let me know what loving really means
Def Leppard, 1981

Mallory approached the machine shed for the second time that day, carrying one of the wicker baskets her mom left behind when she moved out all those years ago, a kitchen towel draped over the top. It occurred to her to wonder if the basketful of food combined with the faded red hoodie she’d donned to stave off the unseasonable chill might make her a target for big bad wolves. A smile touched the corners of her mouth.

She’d just laid a hand on the door handle when an obnoxious rattle-clack that she couldn’t quite place began to emanate from within. Frowning, she opened the door and slipped through. Her eyes followed her ears, fixing themselves upon the source of the racket. Julie was pushing an engine hoist across the shop, the grind of steel casters on concrete reverberating throughout the cavernous building.

Breaking into a trot, Mallory crossed the floor, came up alongside Julie and placed her free hand on the hoist’s central steel pillar.

Julie paused, the heavy implement clattering to a halt. “Now hold on there, preggers. Don’t go straining yourself. I’ve got it.”

“Relax, spazzatron. I’m just adding a little extra oomph. You’re still doing most of the work.”

Julie shrugged, set her shoulders and resumed her trek across the cement. With Mallory lending her weight, they rapidly traversed the shop floor to the corner where the faded green tractor lurked. Mallory tried to recall when her dad had actually acquired the damn thing. If she remembered right, she’d have been no more than twelve or thirteen.

“Okay, time out,” Mallory instructed her partner. “Get yourself washed up. Since you didn’t come back in, I brought you a late lunch.” With that, she made her way across the floor to the desk where her dad had spent so many hours perusing his repair manuals. Julie, she noted, had tucked the office chair back where it belonged. A thick volume sat open on the desk, a parts breakdown visible on the page.

Mallory set the basket down on the desk. Taking care not to lose Julie’s place in the book, she flipped the cover back to get a peek at the title, raising mental eyebrows at the realization that she was looking at a brand-new copy of the official John Deere repair manual for the Model R. Then she spied a smaller book, also obviously new, tucked beneath the open front cover of the repair manual. Mallory hefted “The Ultimate Do-It-Yourself Guide to Rebuilding and Restoring Deere Two-Cylinder Tractors”, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards.

Julie was ambling across the shop, hands and forearms freshly scrubbed, carrying the metal stool Mallory’s father had always used when working on equipment. She plunked it down next to the desk, a sheepish grin overtaking her lips at the sight of the book in Mallory’s hand.

“Just thought it’d be fun to get the engine running, huh?” Mallory managed a stern expression, but couldn’t quite keep the mirth out of her voice. Setting the book back on the desk, she eased herself into the old office chair.

Julie let out a snort of laughter as she settled onto the stool. “Okay, so I might or might not have stopped by the John Deere dealer in Johnstown while you were going through the used records in that thrift store. And—you know, maybe I picked up some literature.”

Mallory removed the threadbare maroon hand towel she’d used to cover the food, then took out a plastic container of roast beef sandwiches with gouda cheese. Setting this on the desk, she reached in again and came up with a thermos of hot, sweet herbal tea and two tin cups. As she poured, Julie pried the lid off the box of sandwiches. “Mmmm,” she murmured. “Looks great.”

“There’s an apple and a granola bar each in the basket,” Mallory remarked, accepting the sandwich Julie offered her.

“You’re too good to me,” said Julie. She bit into a sandwich, chewed, swallowed. “Yummy.”

Mallory jerked a thumb in the direction of the aged tractor that had captured Julie’s interest. “What do you need the hoist for? I thought you were just going to clean up the fuel system and then try to pull-start it.”

Julie shrugged as she swallowed another bite. That awkward grin was on her face again. “Oh, I sort of got it into my head that maybe I should just do the thing right and figure out what’s wrong with the pony engine. Which is tucked way up in under the hood, just forward of the fuel tank. It’ll be a lot easier to get at if I take the hood off. I need the hoist to lift the hood, then to pull the pony engine if I decide it needs to come out.”

“You really think you can make it go? I’m pretty sure the thing’s been parked in that corner for fifteen years or thereabouts. Hell, I don’t know if it was even running when Dad brought it home. It might have been sitting unused way longer than that.”

“If everything I’ve read about these old two-popper Johnnies is true, it’ll probably fire up if the diesel is clean and the engine isn’t frozen. I’ve cleaned up the fuel delivery system for the big engine and drained the tank. I just need to get fresh diesel in it and figure out how to get it started.” She rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “I think I’ll try to fix the pony engine before I resort to a pull-start. I just wish there was more guidance available.”

Mallory’s brow furrowed. “Isn’t that what this is for?” she said, indicating the service manual still open on the table.

Julie made a face. “The damn thing kind of makes the assumption that you’re a John Deere tech who’s got training and experience with this kind of equipment. It’s got good parts breakdowns, but that’s about it. I’m getting better info from this.” She tapped the restoration guidebook. “Also some internet forums. I’ve joined three of them since yesterday evening.”

Mallory burst out laughing. “Just want to see if the engine will start, my ass.”

“I’m getting it figured out,” said Julie with a wave of her hand. “It’d be nice if the info on these things wasn’t so scattered around. Someone should make a video tutorial or something.”

“Isn’t this where your master’s degree in engineering saves the day?”

Julie let out a peal of laughter. “I’m the one who’s always saying you shouldn’t be an engineer if you’re not at least a decent mechanic. Guess it’s time to prove myself, huh?”

Polishing off the first of her sandwiches, Mallory plucked one of the apples from the basket, taking a big bite. Juice sprayed on her chin. “Jesus,” she muttered around the mouthful of fruit, wiping her face with the back of her hand.

She swallowed, then spoke. “On another note, I’m going to Grandma’s house tomorrow morning. I told her I had something to talk to her about, and she invited us to brunch. Think you can tear yourself away from whatever the hell this is long enough to dig into some Eggs Benedict?”

Julie selected a second sandwich from the plastic box. “Since when did I ever turn down Paulette’s Eggs Benedict?”

Mallory nodded. “I figured, but I didn’t know if you’d want to be around when I ask her about Mom. Thought I’d offer you an out.”

Julie seemed lost in thought for a moment. “I’m fine with it, but will she be less likely to talk if I’m there?”

“I don’t think so. She’s always treated you like a granddaughter.”

“She sure has.” Conversation lapsed, the two women taking simple joy in the food and each other’s company. They were long since past the need to fill every silence.

“When do you want to tell your folks about the baby?” said Mallory, after she had polished off her second sandwich.

“Well, I was thinking this evening, but I just found out from Lisa that Vicky’s going to a sleepover. So if we want to tell all three of them together—”

“A sleepover? Please tell me it’s not those same silly bitches that messed with her head last time.”

Julie laughed, placing her free hand on Mallory’s arm. The other clutched a chocolate chip granola bar. “Easy, mama bear. Sometimes I think you’re even more protective of Vicky than I am. She has to pick her own battles.”

Mallory turned her eyes to the ceiling. “I know it.”

Julie shoved the last of her granola into her mouth, chewed, swallowed. “Anyway, I’d rather just do it once. So we’ll wait a day or two.”

“Works for me.” Mallory waved her own half-eaten bar in the direction of the tractor and hoist. “Why don’t you make a video tutorial?”

“Huh?”

“You haven’t really done anything yet, right? Just flushed out some fuel lines. So we’ve got your phone, my phone, and a full-on digital camcorder back at the house. Set up a few different angles, and anything you actually have to take apart and fix, talk about it while you work. Document the whole thing. Stick it on YouTube. If you think there needs to be a video guide, just fucking make one.”

A slow smile was spreading across Julie’s face. “Did you know you’re a genius, babe?”

“Sure, but I can always use the affirmation. Say it a couple more times, will you?”

Julie rolled her eyes. “I withdraw the compliment.”

“Anyway,” Mallory went on, “I can help you with the video part. I can even be your lovely assistant when you need one. For instance, those sheet metal hoods really aren’t all that heavy, just awkward. Do you really need the hoist to lift it off?”

“By myself I do—oh. I get you!”

Mallory pushed herself out of the chair. “I helped Dad take the hood off of the 1586 a few times; it was way bigger than that thing. I’ll run back to the house and grab the cam and tripod. Back in five!”

***

Two heads swiveled at the light rap on Crissy Moen’s bedroom door, one blonde and curly, the other straight and pink. Vicky and Crissy were sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling through pictures of dresses using a laptop perched on Crissy’s thighs. Crissy was planning ahead for homecoming.

“I know it’s months away, and I don’t have a date yet,” she’d told Vicky with a laugh, “but whoever asks me is going with the best-dressed bitch at the dance!”

Another knock. “Come in,” Crissy called out. The door swung open, Crissy’s mom standing on the threshold.

“Patty’s here,” said Triniti Moen, beckoning to someone waiting in the hall. Patricia Spisak stepped into view. Tall with hair the color of walnut, thin to the point of gangliness, Patty was retiring and self-conscious at the best of times. Just now she looked like a mouse meeting the gaze of a hungry tomcat.

“Hey, Pats!” said Crissy, a wide grin cracking her face.

Vicky raised her hand and gave a somewhat more restrained smile. “Hey,” she said.

Triniti’s face creased in a frown. “What are you girls listening to?” She waved her hand at the bluetooth speakers on Crissy’s dresser, from which snarling guitars powered by a ferocious double kick drum were emanating.

“Oh, it was Vicky’s turn to pick the music,” said Crissy, “since she didn’t get to at my birthday party. It’s a playlist her cousin up in Bronning made for her.”

Triniti’s brow smoothed, her eyes widening slightly. “Oh, you mean Nettie?”

Vicky smiled. “The one and only.”

“Sure, I remember her from when she was a little kid. She used to hang around with Crissy’s aunt Cindy when—um—” Now Triniti looked a little contrite. “When she stayed here in Dickson for a little while.”

Understanding Triniti’s consternation, Vicky let her off the hook with a wan smile. “Sure. I was born while she was here, or so they tell me.”

Still looking a bit discomfited, Triniti gave a small nod. “I’ll leave you girls to it.” Turning away, she slipped past Patty and made her way down the hall. Patty just stood there in the hallway, uneasy eyes fixed on the two girls seated on the bed.

Closing her laptop and putting it aside, Crissy got to her feet, her mouth stretching into a warm smile. “Don’t just stand there, girl. Get in here.” Patty stepped forward cautiously, her shoulders hunched.

Crissy enveloped Patty in a hug, which was gingerly returned. Patty towered over Crissy; if anything, she was even taller than Vicky’s big sister Julie. But where Julie exuded confidence, Patty wore her stature self-consciously. And she was so thin! The tall, dark-haired girl was looking over Crissy’s shoulder at Vicky, trepidation written all over her face. When Vicky met her eyes, Patty looked away.

Crissy let her arms drop to her sides and took a step away. “I gotta use the can. Be right back.” Stepping around Patty, she exited the room, pulling the door closed behind her.

An awkward silence fell. Patty seemed rooted to the spot. Finally, just as Vicky was opening her mouth to offer a token greeting, Patty met her eyes. “You’re mad at me, huh?”

Vicky shrugged. “Kind of.”

A slight smile touched the corners of Patty’s mouth. “You know, I’m glad you said that. Most people would just try to pretend like everything’s cool, and I think it just makes things worse.” She drew in a shaky breath.

Despite the knot of anger still lingering in the pit of her stomach, Vicky was beginning to feel a touch of sympathy for the girl. She was trying to think of how best to reply when, once again, Patty spoke first.

“I was a bitch,” she said, stepping forward and carefully seating herself next to Vicky on the bed. She rested the tips of her fingers on Vicky’s wrist. “I did everything I hate when people do it to me. There’s no excuse. I’m so sorry.”

Her voice was steady, and Vicky liked her a little better for not putting on a show of tears. Even more so for not trying to place all the blame on Sarah Spencer. Still…

“Did Crissy put you up to this?” Vicky didn’t mean to say that; the words just spilled out.

Those thin shoulders rose in an elaborate shrug. “In a way, I guess. I went to her and told her I was sorry for acting that way at her birthday party. She forgave me, but told me that you’re the one I really needed to apologize to. I mean, I already knew that, but—” she trailed off helplessly.

“But what?” Vicky’s armor was softening, but she’d been wounded pretty badly, and wasn’t quite ready to let it go.

When Patty spoke again, there was a tremor in her voice. “It’s just that what I did was so messed up. I was s-scared to face you. I figured you’d just tell me what an awful person I am, and—and you’d be right.”

With a heavy sigh, Vicky placed her hand on Patty’s, the fingers of which were still resting on her arm. “Look, I get that you were just trying to impress Sarah, but—”

“I wasn’t going to mention that,” Patty cut in, shaking her head. “I mean, yeah, that is why it happened, but it’s still the shittiest excuse ever.”

“What I don’t understand,” said Vicky, “is why it was so important. I can tell you really are sorry, and that you’re really beating yourself up about this. What I don’t get is why you’d do stuff you hate just to get her to like you.”

Patty fixed her eyes on her lap, her already slouched shoulders drooping even further, as if she was slowly deflating. “Because when you’re a total loser like me, getting a popular girl to be even halfway nice to you seems like the most important thing in the world.” Now she did sound close to tears. “That just makes me sound like an even crappier person, doesn’t it?”

The last sliver of ice in Vicky’s heart melted. She pulled Patty’s hand into her lap, folded it between both of hers. “It makes you sound like a person who doesn’t know that she’s worth something. You’re the best player in the chess club, aren’t you? You won a tournament that was mostly college kids. How can you call yourself a loser when you’re doing stuff like that?”

Patty let out a teary little laugh. “It’s not the same as being cool.”

Vicky gave a derisive snort. “If being cool means being anything like Sarah Spencer, I’ll settle for being a geek, thanks very much.”

Finally Patty lifted her gaze, head turning to meet Vicky’s eyes. “I don’t want to be like Sarah. I…I wish I was like you. You believe in yourself, and you’ve got skin like an alligator.”

Not feeling particularly thick-skinned at the moment, Vicky was casting around for a reply when a thought struck her. “I thought Crissy was just going to the bathroom.”

Patty let out a snort of laughter, dashing tears from her eyes with the hand that wasn’t still lying in Vicky’s lap. “I’ll bet she’d taking her time because she’s hoping we’ll—”

“Do exactly this?” Both girls laughed.

As if on cue, the door swung open. Crissy stood framed in the entrance, wearing a huge grin. “Perfect!” she said, her tone one of triumph. “Now we can relax and have a good time.”

***

Hours later, the three girls lounged on the living room couch in their pajamas, Vicky in the middle. They were idly debating the merits of watching a movie. Crissy’s mom had bailed immediately after dinner, informing the girls that she would be spending the evening with her sister, and possibly the night.

“Like hell she is,” Crissy had said with a giggle as they watched Triniti’s car back down the driveway. “Mom’s got a new boyfriend she thinks I don’t know about.” She sighed, stretched. “So… what do you guys want to watch?”

“I’m clueless,” said Vicky. “At home, I mostly listen to music.”

“Speaking of which,” said Patty. “That was a really cool playlist you brought over! I was too chickenshit to say so in front of Sarah at Crissy’s party, but it’s almost all stuff I listen to.”

Vicky had to laugh. “Honestly, I couldn’t even tell you what most of it was. I asked Nettie for a playlist of music she listens to that’s more or less recent. I’m just kinda checking it out myself.”

Patty smiled, looking more comfortable than she had all evening. She was a lot cuter that way, Vicky decided. “There was… let’s see.” She began ticking off names on her fingers. “Semblant, Arch Enemy, Avenged Sevenfold, Epica, Amon Amarth—a few others. She gave you what you asked for; it’s all pretty modern heavy music.”

Crissy nodded. “And that’s what you listen to, Patty, when you’re not worried about Sarah or someone like that razzing you about it?”

“Yeah.”

Crissy flicked her eyes to Vicky. “What about you, Vick? If that’s really your cousin’s music, what’s your music? Is it classical? I know you play it on the guitar. Can you show us some?”

With a mental shrug, Vicky picked up her phone from where it lay on an end table, bringing up a YouTube video of a woman playing Bach on a lute.

“So that’s what a lute is,” said Patty.

“Yeah,” Vicky replied. “I’m hoping to get one soon.”

“That’s actually really different… and cool,” said Patty.

“Can’t say I’m in love with this,” Crissy admitted, “but it’s better than that heavy stuff you were playing earlier, not gonna lie!”

Vicky was feeling tremendously empowered by Crissy’s simple acceptance. It was such a rare thing amongst girls their age. “I’m not crazy about your Taylor Swift playlist, either,” she said. “So what? That’s why we take turns.”

“Right on!” Patty enthused.

“We should decide what movie we’re watching,” said Crissy, “or else I’m getting the laptop back out and we’re gonna do more shopping for homecoming dresses!”

“Well, there’s a threat you don’t hear every day,” said Vicky with a snort of laughter.

“Are you even going with anybody yet?” asked Patty.

“No,” Crissy admitted. “Trouble is, my last boyfriend was Mark Bedford, and a lot of people are scared of him. I think dudes are afraid to ask me out because they don’t wanna piss him off.”

Patty opened her mouth, then quickly closed it. That wasn’t lost on Crissy. “Patty, you’ve gotta stop doing that,” she said. “We’re friends here. You can say what you’re thinking.”

Patty’s complexion went bright red. “I was just gonna say I… I never understood what you saw in him. I’m sorry, I—”

“Hush,” said Crissy, putting a hand on Patty’s arm. “He’s a douche; I know that. It’s a flaw I have. I like guys with tattoos, long hair, and bad attitudes. Okay, wrong word. I don’t even really like them. I’m just, y’know—”

“Attracted to them,” Vicky finished for her.

“Yeah, that,” Crissy agreed. “If I see a dude who looks like he’s going to ruin my life, I wanna stick my hand in his Levis. How messed up is that?”

Vicky giggled. “My dad has a t-shirt that says ‘mothers like good boys, but chicks dig bad boys’. Kinda like that, huh?”

Crissy rolled her eyes. “Exactly like that. I don’t get horny for the kind of guys that would be good for me. I hope you two are smarter than I am.”

“Well, I—” Patty seemed unable to continue.

“You went out with a football player!” Chrissy said, laughing. “I’m not sure that’s much better.”

Patty was gazing at her lap again. “Actually—”

Crissy frowned. “Actually what?”

Patty buried her face in her hands. “Oh, God… I totally made that up. Guys, I’m so sorry—you and Sarah were talking about these dudes you’d hooked up with, and I didn’t want to look like a loser. That’s why I said the ‘football player’ was from Alexandria, so it wouldn’t be easy to check. I’ve never had sex with anybody. I’ve never even been on a date.”

“Oh, Patty. It’s okay,” said Crissy.

Patty tilted her gaze towards Vicky. “At least you had the guts to be honest about being a virgin. I’m one, too.”

Vicky tried to suppress the grin that was overtaking her face, failing miserably.

Her expression wasn’t lost on Crissy. “Something’s happened since then!” she crowed. “Hasn’t it?”

Warmth spread across Vicky’s face, and she knew a fairly impressive blush must be creeping up. All the same, she was smiling. “Could be something did,” she said.

“Well, come on now—details!” Crissy insisted.

Vicky’s smile faded a bit. “Maybe the less said the better.”

Crissy looked at her sidelong. “So, no names. Fine. I still want the whole dirty story!”

Vicky shook her head, good humor fading. “It’s not that simple.”

“It was with a girl, wasn’t it?!” Patty blurted, then clapped a hand over her mouth. Vicky said nothing, but knew the truth had to be written all over her face.

Crissy picked up on it, all right. She slung an arm across Vicky’s shoulder, pulling her close. “Good for you if it was,” she said. “Tell you what, I’d probably have a lot less problems if I swung that way.”

Patty was stroking her chin, a pensive look on her face.

“You okay, Pats?” Crissy wanted to know.

Patty sighed heavily. “Oh, just something else I need to apologize for. The stuff Sarah was saying about Vick’s sister Julie, and I joined in on. About her being a dyke. I’m sorry, Vicky. I’ve only met Julie a couple of times, but I really liked her. Everything about her just screams ‘I know exactly who I am, and I’m proud to be her’. She’s beyond cool.”

“So cool,” Crissy agreed. “Her and Mallory both. I still remember them being besties with my aunt Cindy, back when we were little. Nobody follows their arrow like Julie and Mallory. If I’ve ever met two chicks I kinda want to be like, it’s them.”

“Yeah,” said Patty. “I think the thing I hate most about myself is, well, I don’t like myself. Julie’s totally down with who she is. Does that make sense?”

Crissy reached across Vicky’s lap, patting her tall friend’s hand. “What’s not to like?”

Patty laid her head back against the cushion, tears welling in her eyes. “I don’t relate to people most of the time,” she said. “I don’t understand the things they do, or what they like. And I’m always saying the wrong thing. I even know why.” Sitting up straight, she glanced from Chrissy to Vicky. “I’ve never told anyone at school this, but I’m autistic.”

Crissy slowly nodded. “I thought you maybe had a touch of the ‘tism. My uncle’s autistic, and that’s his term for it. Touch of the ‘tism. So what? You’re a little awkward socially. I don’t care. Bet Vick doesn’t either.”

Vicky shook her head. “I’d rather deal with that than the crap you get from those manipulative bitches like Sarah Spencer. You know, the ones who are really good at reading social cues, and end up using them against people.”

“Girl,” said Crissy with a shake of her head, “that’s just called high school.”

“But there’s more to you than that, Patty,” Vicky went on. “Way more. Like, everyone at school knows you’re an information gathering machine, and when you get interested in something, you’re like a, a terrier with your teeth in someone’s leg. Remember when we had to write those military history papers, and drew the topics out of a hat? You got the events that led to World War Two, and in a couple of days time you just knew everything there was.”

“And you would not shut up about it!” said Crissy, laughing.

“I still remember some of the details,” Vicky added, giggling. “Like how Hitler couldn’t make it as an artist.”

Patty didn’t crack a smile. “That’s not such a great thing,” she said. “I get obsessed. If I’m even a little interested in something, I want to know everything there is to know about it. And then I just want to share it with the whole world, and forget that nobody cares but me.”

“But it’s still impressive,” said Crissy. “I won’t lie: it gets a little annoying sometimes. But—oh damn it, I’m not sure how to put what I’m thinking into words.” She looked to the ceiling for a moment, then continued. “How about this: even when I’m annoyed at you, I’m a little jealous, too. I’m obsessed with picking a homecoming dress. You’re obsessed with the Beer Hall Putz. Something that actually matters. Some people think that makes you a spaz because it’s not the same stuff everyone else is into, but I think it makes you super-cool.”

“It’s Putsch,” Patty corrected her, “and the World War Two thing was a pretty short obsession. Wanna know what it led to? You’re gonna laugh at this.”

Vicky gave Patty’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “No, I won’t. I’m obsessed with 18th century lute manuscripts. So what did the Beer Hall thingie lead to?”

Patty couldn’t restrain a shy grin. “Battleships. Wanna know what the biggest battleships in history were? The Yamato class, in World War Two. The Japanese built them. Or I could tell you all the workarounds countries came up with in the 1930s to get around Washington Naval Treaty restrictions. Did you know that the US was building two battlecruisers at the time the treaty was signed that ended up being too big to meet the new requirements, so they turned them into aircraft carriers? They were—”

She broke off, mortified. “And there I go again—I just want to start talking about it, thinking that other people will be interested, even though I know they won’t.” She hesitated, then added, “Can you guys do me a favor?”

“You bet,” said Crissy.

“Of course,” Vicky chimed in.

“If I’m being a chatterbox, tell me. With you two I’ll know it’s not coming from a mean place, and I’ll shut up.”

“I think we can manage that,” said Crissy. “Anyway—we still don’t have any details, Vicky! I mean, your first time getting busy? Don’t even try to keep that to yourself!”

“I see what you’re obsessed with,” Vicky remarked, drawing a much-needed round of laughter.

Vicky took a deep breath. “Patty’s right. It was a lesbian thing. And not just with a girl. It was more than one.”

Crissy’s mouth dropped open. “You had group sex for your first time?!”

Suddenly self-conscious, Vicky looked down at her hands, wishing she’d kept her mouth shut.

“That’s so totally hot!” Crissy exclaimed.

Vicky looked up, startled. “You really mean that?”

“Yeah! I love the idea of group sex. I’ve just never done it. So—dish! How many girls are we talking about? Three? Fifty?”

“Four, including me.” Vicky was smiling now.

“Wow,” said Patty. Even that single syllable came out a bit shaky.

“So—” Crissy’s voice became tentative. “You’re gay, then?”

Vicky pursed her lips. “Not completely. I’m attracted to guys, too. And trans people—I’ve kind of got a thing for Josie Barber at school. I don’t really have a type.”

“That’s pansexual,” said Patty.

“Yeah, I’ve heard that,” said Vicky. “According to one of my sister’s friends, it means I have a cookware fetish.” All three girls cracked up.

“I’m gay,” Patty blurted. Her face went bright red. “I think,” she added in a more hesitant tone. “I guess I sometimes think guys are cute. But when I have fantasies—” It seemed impossible, but her blush deepened even more. “Um, never mind,” she mumbled, then fell silent.”

“So… you only think about girls when you touch yourself?” said Vicky.

Patty  broke into a huge grin. “Yeah, that’s what I mean! God, I feel like I can talk to you guys about anything.”

Crissy gave her head a quick shake. “Damn, this is turning into the weirdest sleepover ever. But I guess if you girls can say it, I can too. I mostly think of myself as straight, but I’ve had fantasies about chicks before. It’s different from guys, though. More, ummm—I think abstract is the word I’m looking for. It’s not like I see girls at school and I’m all like, yeah, I wanna jump on that. It’s more something I feel when I’m alone in my bed at night. Does that make any sense at all?”

Vicky thought about that for a moment. “Not to me it doesn’t, but that’s okay. We’re all different.”

“You’re bi-curious, maybe,” said Patty.

“Yeah, maybe that,” Crissy replied. She let out a single laugh. “We were talking about what to watch before. I’m starting to think the answer is porn!” Vicky snorted laughter.

Patty giggled, covering her eyes with one hand. “I watch it, sometimes,” she admitted. “The lesbian stuff, that is. Wanna know what’s funny? It’s not even to watch the sex. I like looking at those naked women, and pretending my body is as pretty as theirs.”

Making a face, Crissy reached across Vicky to slap Patty’s arm. “Knock it off, already. You’re prettier than you think.”

“I’m not. I’m too tall, too skinny, and too clumsy.”

“You have a beautiful face,” Vicky countered. “And great eyes. I love your eyes. There’s nothing wrong with being tall—on you, it’s totally hot. Your only problem is that you walk around like you’re embarrassed about yourself. Just relax and be who you are, and you’ll turn heads.”

A different, intrigued light came into Patty’s eyes. “You really think I’m hot?” Then she blushed again. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean that the way it c-came out.”

At that moment, Vicky realized something unexpected: she did think Patty was hot. Perhaps she hadn’t noticed before because of Patty’s association with jerks like Sarah Spencer. But now that she was able to give it some headspace, there was something about this shy, awkward, gangly girl that was pushing all of her buttons at once.

She gave Patty a sideways look. “Are you sure you didn’t mean it the way it sounded?” she asked. “Because if you didn’t, I think I’m a little disappointed.”

“If I was gay, I’d do you,” Crissy chimed in.

Patty hung her head. “You guys are being so nice to me. I don’t deserve it, not after the way I acted when Sarah was here.”

Twisting sideways, Vicky wrapped both arms around those bony shoulders, pulling Patty into a hug. “I know you’re sorry,” she whispered into the tall, dark-haired girl’s ear. “I know it wasn’t really you saying those things, and I know you said them because you don’t feel good about yourself. Forget about it.” She pulled away, hands on Patty’s shoulders, holding her at arms length.

“Thanks s-so much, guys,” Patty stammered. “You’re the best!” There were tears on her cheeks.

“You just need to know you’re worth something, that’s all,” Vicky told her. “You’re so much better than people like Sarah Spencer. I wish I knew how to convince you of that.”

“Sarah’s better than Sarah,” said Crissy. The other two girls turned their heads in her direction.

“Honest to God, I don’t know what happened to her,” Crissy went on. “She was my best friend for ages, then she turned into a total bitch ever since we joined the cheerleading squad.”

A thought struck Vicky. “You know,” she said, “maybe Sarah’s more insecure than you think. Maybe she cuts other people down to build herself up.”

“Yeah, maybe,” said Crissy. Then she laughed. “You’re amazing, you know that? Sarah treated you like shit, and here you are trying to put yourself in her shoes.”

Vicky shrugged, feeling suddenly self-conscious. “I guess I have a hard time thinking that anyone is really that awful.”

Crissy nodded slowly, folding both hands in her lap. A slow smile crept over her lips. “You’re really not gonna tell us who you hooked up with?”

Vicky smiled back. “Really not.”

“Great,” Crissy murmured. “Now I’m gonna spend hours trying to figure it out.” She began to nibble her lower lip. “Hmmm… three other girls at once—or was it three women?”

“Not telling,” Vicky said. “No hints, either.”

Patty was shaking her head. “I’m just trying to imagine even having the nerve to do a group thing for my first time.”

Vicky waved her hand dismissively. “It wasn’t like I started it or anything. More like I got invited to join in.”

“You know,” said Crissy in a contemplative tone, “even though I mostly like dudes, I’m not sure I’d be able to turn an offer like that down. Just picturing it gets me fired up.”

Vicky had been trying to ignore a steadily increasing sense of arousal, but found it all but impossible, now that her panties were growing damp. She realized there were possibilities for an especially thrilling evening, if she played her cards right.

“Is thinking about my lesbian foursome getting you hot, Crissy?” she asked. She took a teasing tone, but the gaze she fixed upon her friend radiated desire.

Crissy, to her delight, met the gaze head-on. “It kind of is,” she admitted.

“You don’t even want to know what’s happening over here,” Patty confessed.

Vicky turned her attention from Crissy to Patty. “Actually,” she said, deciding to go just a little further out on this limb, “I do want to know.” Hesitantly reaching out, she caressed Patty’s neck. The tall girl shivered, the breath hissing through her teeth. A mortified expression crossed her face, but Vicky eased the tension with a smile.

“That’s what I hoped was happening,” she murmured. She glanced over her shoulder at Crissy. “So what’s going on with you?”

“About the same thing,” said Crissy, her voice unsteady. “I’m not sure what this even is, but it’s doing a number on me.”

Vicky lifted an eyebrow. “What do you want it to be?”

“I—I’m not sure.”

Vicky shifted her attention back to Patty. “What about you?”

“I guess—I mean, I want—I—” Patty floundered helplessly, then fell silent.

Vicky felt a light touch on her arm from behind. “What do you want, Vicky?” Crissy intoned.

“Right now,” Vicky murmured, “I’d really like to kiss Patty.” She gave the dazed walnut-haired beauty a sultry smile. Patty’s visage was a study in contrasts; astonishment, desire and fear all on display.

“Should I kiss you, Patty?” said Vicky, her voice down to a whisper, “or should we figure out what movie to watch?”

Soon to come: Chapter Twenty-Two!

The Story Thus Far

Chapter 1: In which Sarah and Frankie peruse some rather risqué entertainment, then get intimately acquainted with a pair of soiled undies. Who says staying at home on weekends is boring?

Chapter 2: In which Kerry comes home, the Panty Fairy pays a visit, Sarah confides in her sister Judy, Kerry catches a whiff of pussy on Mummy’s fingers, and plans are made to let Kerry watch Sarah and Frankie have sex. Goodness me!

Chapter 3: In which Sarah and Kerry’s pussy-smelling game escalates, Sarah has a quick diddle in the school carpark, and Sarah and Frankie put their unorthodox sex education lesson into motion. Oh, and a traumatised teddy bear called Mr. Ruffles.

Chapter 4: In which smelling becomes tasting, and a visit to the bird sanctuary turns into an afternoon of naughty panty-modeling fun with Sarah, Judy and five-year-old Izzy. Bloody hell, now sister and niece are in on the act!

Chapter 5: In which poor Mr Ruffles suffers more teddy abuse, Sarah and Kerry’s kinky game goes one step further, and Judy pops round for coffee with little Izzy. A shared lollipop leads to more sharing. Appalling!

 

by BlueJean

1

Frankie and I didn’t talk much afterward about what happened when Judy and Izzy visited; how we’d teamed up on my five-year-old niece, drawn her into our sordid little sex game. I guess we were each trying to process it in our own way. Or maybe we both knew it was a spell that could easily be broken with a careless word.

Did we regret what happened? Frankie didn’t. She was oblivious to everything but her own impulses. To her, implications and consequences were things that happened to other people. I used to find her laid-back attitude rather endearing until I saw it from another angle. Until I realised it looked very much like someone putting their conscience to one side whenever it suited them.

And me? Well, I suppose I was doing much the same as Frankie, in my own way. To me, these fits of perversion were singular events rather than individual parts of one big, troublesome issue, enacted then discarded like so much baggage, safely filed under ‘Never To Be Repeated’. Until I moved on to the next episode.

No, we didn’t speak of that afternoon, but it was always there, hanging over us. Too big to address, too big to ignore.

When Frankie and I were out shopping and we spied a cute little girl who bore a passing resemblance to Izzy, we’d share a knowing look and a smirk. When we lay on the bed watching Frankie’s more risqué porn, we’d always gravitate towards the videos that most resembled our encounter with Izzy – three sexually deviant ladies, add one adorable little girl, preferably younger than six, sit back; enjoy. Sounds like a fucking cocktail, doesn’t it?

Frankie continued to pay infrequent visits to the dark web, seeking more illicit material for us to watch. To hear her talk about it, you’d think she was a commando infiltrating an enemy base. “Get in, download what you need, then get the hell out,” she’d tell me. “Stick to the places you know, don’t waste time exploring, avoid unnecessary risks.”

It soon became apparent that the good underage porn was few and far between, especially the all-female variant. Most were of abysmal quality, amateurish, or both at once. A lot of the more professional fare was clearly produced solely to turn a profit, and about as erotic as being bludgeoned over the head with a giant dildo. I was alarmed to discover myself becoming quite the connoisseur.

“Click on that one,” I told Frankie one late Friday evening, pointing to the thumbnails on her laptop. The two of us were in bed naked.

“Which?” Frankie asked.

“The, er… it looks like… a woman going down on a little girl?”

“This one?”

“Yeah.” It was another grainy, cheapjack affair, but I knew right away that it was the real deal. “You see the look on her face?”

“The woman or the girl?”

“Both, actually, but I mean the woman. See the way she pulls back every now and then to look at the kid’s pussy? The need in her eyes? That’s pure lust. You can’t fake it.”

“The girl’s into it, too. The way she keeps stroking her mum’s hair and smiling.”

“Yeah. Too many of these videos have kids that’re like lifeless mannequins.”

Frankie made a face. “Eww, don’t say that. It almost makes me feel bad for watching them.”

“Well, we should feel bad, shouldn’t we? We don’t know what kind of life those girls—”

“Stop!”

“What?”

“Don’t start with all that crap. It’s pointless. I just wanna frig myself to this stuff, not fucking analyse it.”

I was a bit taken aback by her outburst. Frankie’s normally so nonchalant about everything, at times disturbingly so. “Oh, I’m sorry,” I told her haughtily. “I’ll just shut up and masturbate, shall I?”

Frankie deflated a little. “Be a nice girl and stick some fingers in me.”

I obliged. “Aww, it’s finished already. Why so short?”

Frankie gave a shrug. “Dunno. I’ll play it again.”

“There has to be better quality stuff out there somewhere,” I mused as I fucked Frankie with my fingers.

She slipped a hand between my legs. “If there is, I doubt it’s on the internet.”

“Why?”

“Because unless you’re doing it for the money, why risk putting kiddy porn where everyone can see it? I’m sure a lot of this stuff just ended up getting leaked. There’s probably better videos out there that get passed around between secret groups and never come close to being on the net.”

“God, we’re idiots,” I said. “We should’ve got our phones out and filmed all that stuff with Judy and Izzy.”

“We were all kind of caught up in the moment, weren’t we?” Frankie pointed out. “But yeah, that would’ve been hot as hell to watch right now.”

We’d filmed ourselves having sex a few times, but trying to stay in the phone’s line of sight was a pain in the arse, and the resulting footage ended up being pretty crappy. We still have a video of a threesome with Judy somewhere, and that turned out a little better because at least there was always someone to hold the phone.

I pulled my fingers from Frankie and licked them clean.

Frankie pouted. “Um, excuse me. I’m not done yet.”

“Are you able to come quietly?” I asked.

She looked at me blankly. “That’s the most bizarre question you’ve ever asked me. I’m not that loud, am I?”

I climbed from the bed, pulling Frankie with me. “Follow me. Just don’t make any noise.”

We padded naked across to Kerry’s room. Not such a big deal, you might think – it was Friday night, and since discovering this new kink, we’d had a few weekend adventures in my daughter’s bedroom while she was away at her dad’s.

Except tonight was a little different. You see, Kerry had decided to stay home with me and Frankie. And right then she was curled up in bed fast asleep.

2

Kerry was a heavy sleeper. I think most kids her age are. They tend to sink into that deep, almost catatonic slumber that only becomes attainable to adults via excessive units of alcohol.

I quietly pushed open her bedroom door, the light from the landing gently illuminating the room. Kerry was belly-down amidst a chaotic nest of quilt and pillows, the duvet kicked away from her body, leaving her mostly uncovered. I put a finger to my lips and ushered Frankie inside.

We tiptoed over to the bed, where I gave Frankie my best I’m going to do something wicked look, then hooked my fingers into the waistband of Kerry’s pyjama bottoms, pulling them down as slowly and carefully as I could.

Kerry stirred briefly, bringing an arm up to slide beneath a pillow. Frankie and I froze like two deer caught in headlights, breathing sighs of relief when Kerry settled down again. I pulled her jammies down even further.

I mean, it wouldn’t exactly have been a catastrophe if Kerry had woken up right then – I could’ve just told her we’d come in to say goodnight, and I doubt she would’ve given it much thought. Okay, she might have briefly wondered why her pyjama bottoms were halfway down, but she’s an eight-year-old girl, not Inspector Sodding Morse. Honestly, she probably wouldn’t have pursued the matter.

So with my daughter’s jammies round her knees and her bare bottom conveniently illuminated by the bar of light from the doorway, I stood next to Frankie and slipped a hand between my legs. Frankie followed my lead, fingers pressed into her sex.

“What do you want to do to her?” I whispered to my girlfriend.

“Huh?”

“Kerry. Tell me what you’d like to do.”

Frankie turned back to Kerry, licking her lips. “I want to touch that lovely bum.”

“What else?”

“I wanna kiss it. I want to spread those cheeks open and stick my tongue in her arsehole and pussy.” Frankie gave me an imploring look. “Can I?”

I shook my head slowly. “We don’t want to wake her up, do we? What I’d really like is to see you come on her arse. Will you do that for me?”

Frankie took another step until she was pressed up against the bed. She thrust her hips out towards Kerry’s bare bottom, then began pumping two fingers inside herself, the other hand working her clit. I could hear how wet she was, but we both knew it was just a prelude.

“Yeah, that’s it, squirt on my little girl,” I purred in Frankie’s ear, knowing my filthy words would bring her off that much quicker. “Think about all the nasty things we did with Izzy, then imagine it’s Kerry. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“Fuck, Sarah,” Frankie whimpered. “I like the new you, I really do.”

“Shhh. Don’t you wake my little angel up.”

I stepped back to take in the full depravity of the scene – Frankie hunched over the bed, mauling her cunt while my little girl slept on.

Oh, it was bad. Believe me, I knew that. Ugly and wrong, maybe the worst thing I’d done so far because Kerry was asleep, which made this a blatant violation of trust. But I just couldn’t bring myself to make Frankie stop. I wanted to see what it looked like, my girlfriend squirting her spend over my daughter.

“Come on her, Frankie,” I hissed. “I’m only ever going to let you do this once, so you better make it good.”

Frankie suddenly went steel-rigid, fingers splaying her cunt open while she subjected her clit to a frenzied attack. She gave a low, desperate groan, then sprayed Kerry’s buttocks and part of her lower back with her fluids. She clamped a hand over her mouth, throes of ecstasy racking her hunched form. The last few drops splashed onto Kerry’s bum, Frankie’s arse clenching and unclenching as she rode out her orgasm.

“Oh, you filthy bitch,” I cooed, tracing a finger down the curve of my lover’s spine. “How many mothers would let their girlfriend squirt over their little girl? Aren’t you the lucky one?”

I trailed a finger through the wetness on Kerry’s bottom, then bent down to gently kiss a soft bum cheek before carefully pulling her pyjamas back up.

Kerry opened her eyes and peered at me without any real awareness. “Why’d you wake me, Mummy?” she murmured.

I kissed her on the cheek. “Shhh. Go back to sleep, Peanut.”

3

On Saturday, with Kerry at home for a change, Judy and I decided to take the kids out for a picnic in the forest. There were some lovely enclosures about a half hour drive away, and while they weren’t exactly a secret, few enough people knew about them to ensure relative peace and quiet.

Frankie said she was going to stay at home and catch up on some work.

“Sure you don’t want to come?” I asked her. “There’ll be sausage rolls. And wine.”

“And sex?”

I looked at her blankly. “Huh?”

Kerry was playing outside in the garden. Frankie gestured at her through the kitchen window, then gave me an impish look. “You know… sex.”

Here’s the thing: I thought I could draw very clear lines in the sand. I thought I could be two different people – responsible mother one day, sexual deviant the next, and that somehow one wouldn’t impact the other.

There were no lines, of course. They were a figment of my imagination. It’s just that right then I still needed them.

I rolled my eyes at Frankie, because that’s what you do when you’re convinced you know better than everyone else. Except, in her innocent, child-like way, Frankie was far closer to the truth than I knew. “We’re hardly going to be having sex in a public place, you perv. It’s just a picnic for the kids. Are you coming or not?”

Frankie hooked both hands on her hips and tried to look tough. “Do I look like picnic material to you? I am way too rock ‘n roll for all that twee Famous Five bullshit.”

“Oh. My. God,” I gasped. “You’re a picnic snob!”

“Call it what you want, girlfriend. Frankie don’t do no motherfuckin’ picnic.”

“You’re a picnic snob and you talk about yourself in the third person. I don’t know if I can be your girlfriend anymore.”

Frankie crossed her arms defiantly. “Ain’t doin’ no picnic.”

We went without her. ‘Cause Frankie don’t do no motherfuckin’ picnic.

4

“Slow down, you’ll run out of forest!” I hollered to Kerry and Izzy as they scouted ahead of us.

We’d found ourselves a nice secluded spot to explore and have our picnic. I carried the hamper, while Judy had the obligatory chequered blanket slung over a shoulder. Kerry and Izzy raced down the little paths that snaked through the woods as my sister and I tried our best to keep up.

“We should’ve got them to leave a trail of breadcrumbs,” Judy joked.

“Let’s hope they don’t run into a wicked witch.”

Judy put her arm through mine. “Who needs wicked witches when they have two wicked mothers?”

“Is that what we are? Wicked?”

My sister gave me a sheepish look. “I’m pretty sure engaging in sexual activity with your pre-pubescent children is generally frowned upon.”

“Well, yeah… but it’s fun to be wicked, isn’t it?”

“It won’t be so much fun if it all comes back to bite us on the bum. I’m worried we might be headed for trouble, Sarah.”

I felt my jaw tighten. Now I was beginning to understand how Frankie felt when she had to listen to me tying myself in knots about all the awful things we’d been getting up to. “Well, no one made you touch her, Judy. You can stop any time you like.”

“I’m not sure I can, actually. I like it too much to stop.” Judy lowered her voice, presumably in case any trees were eavesdropping. “I licked Izzy’s pussy again. Read her a bedtime story, then pulled her jammies down and had a quickie. Marco was downstairs listening to Michael Bublé. He likes Michael Bublé.”

I gave her a disgusted look. “What the hell is wrong with him? Michael Bublé’s utter shite. His songs use auto-tune, for Christ’s sake, and I’m not talking about artistic licence here, I mean the bad kind of auto-tune, the I’m-not-quite-hitting-those-notes kind. Frank Sinatra must be rolling in his grave.”

“I know, I know. I keep meaning to talk to him about it. Marco, I mean, not Michael Bublé. It’s not really my place to offer Michael Bublé advice. Are you still messing around with Kerry?”

“We are, but it’s not full-on. There are still lines I’m not sure I want to cross just yet.”

“Such as?”

I scratched my head, suddenly feeling awkward. “I haven’t really touched or licked her. I rubbed my pussy on her face, but I had my panties on.”

Judy gave a snort. “Er, I’m pretty sure that’s full-on, Sarah.”

“I had my knickers on,” I repeated, as if a thin layer of cotton between my pussy and my eight-year-old daughter’s face somehow made it okay. Pathetic, I know.

Judy didn’t let up. “What else have you done with her?”

“Oh, just fed her pussy juice from my fingers a few times. And Frankie squirted on her bum last night when she was asleep. Just small stuff like that.”

An incredulous Judy shook her head at me.

“What?”

“You’re completely in denial, aren’t you?”

“Hardly. I’m just trying to tread carefully. See what we can get away with.”

God, that sounded so bad once it was out of my mouth. And I really wasn’t treading carefully, at all, was I? No, I was stomping around like some sex-crazed giantess, crushing everything in my path. I mean, having sex with Izzy while Judy watched wasn’t exactly ‘small stuff’, was it? Or did I think that somehow it didn’t count because it wasn’t my little girl I was fucking?

“I get so hot when I think about you and Frankie doing stuff to Izzy,” Judy gushed, as if she knew what I was thinking. “Watching that was such a turn-on.”

“We’re going to hell, aren’t we?” I said.

“If it’s a hell where we can make love to little girls for eternity, maybe it’s not such a bad place,” my sister decided with a shrug.

Leaving it at that, we sought out the girls. Kerry and Izzy were standing on a little wooden bridge, throwing sticks into the water below.

“I saw a fish!” Izzy squealed.

Judy leaned against the wooden rail. “I’m sure they appreciate having tree trunks thrown at them.”

“I don’t think we hit any, Aunt Judy,” Kerry assured her.

We explored for an hour or two, managing to get ourselves lost in the process, then found ourselves back at the car. We laid the blanket down in the shade of a huge oak tree, then set about enjoying our picnic.

Kerry and I had made sausage rolls and bacon and brie sandwiches, and Judy had brought some little lemon cakes she claimed to have made herself, although I suspect Mr. Kipling might have had something to say about that. My sister and I sipped low alcohol sparkling wine, while the girls enjoyed some cloudy lemonade.

“Well, this is nice,” I said, swatting an inquisitive bee away.

“Yeah, it is,” Judy agreed. “You enjoying yourselves, girls?”

Izzy and Kerry nodded their approval. Izzy was devouring a sausage roll, and Kerry was trying to imitate me and my sister by daintily sipping her lemonade like it was a fine wine. “We put fennel seeds in the sausage rolls, Aunt Judy,” she informed my sister.

“How decadent!” Judy gasped.

“Where’s the sun gone?” I pondered, noticing some ominous looking clouds gathering overhead. We’d barely tucked into our picnic when the heavens opened up.

“Bloody hell, where did that come from?!” Judy flapped.

“Rain comes from the clouds, Mummy!” Izzy explained.

The four of us scrambled to pack away the food and blankets as fast as we could. By the time we’d thrown it all into the boot of my car and taken refuge inside, we were all soaked through.

“I’m totally drenched!” gasped Kerry from the backseat.

“I’m totally drenched!” squealed Izzy, imitating her older cousin.

Luckily, we’d brought some towels with us, in case the kids wanted to paddle in the streams. I threw them in the back and told Kerry and Izzy to dry themselves off as best they could. Both girls stripped down to their panties and wrapped the towels around themselves.

Judy pointed her phone at them and snapped a photo. “We have two soggy little stowaways in the back!”

Kerry pulled her towel open. “Take another one, Aunt Judy.”

Judy snapped another picture while Izzy copied her cousin and let her towel fall away from her boyish chest. “Take one of me too, Mummy!”

Kerry whispered something to Izzy and the two girls shared a giggle. They gave each other a nod, then pulled their knickers to one side, exposing themselves to us.

“What rude little girls!” I gasped and took another picture.

“How do I do the zoom?” Judy asked me, so I showed her how to ‘do the zoom’. Judy homed in on their pussies to get a couple of close-up shots. She showed me the picture, clearly pleased with herself.

I nodded approvingly. “Send it to Countryfile. They might use it for their calendar.”

“Girls, put a hand between each other’s legs and I’ll take another picture,” Judy said.

“Like this, Izzy,” Kerry told her cousin, and planted a hand on Izzy’s pussy.

Izzy reached across and did the same to Kerry.

“Now smile,” I said.

The girls did their best smiles for the camera. Judy took a few shots, and I snapped a couple of my own.

The sound of a dog barking outside made me and Judy start. I told the girls to quickly cover themselves. Luckily, the car windows were all steamed up, so anyone lurking outside wouldn’t have been able to see much.

I keyed the ignition and put the fan on to clear the glass. There was another car parked a few yards away.

“Let’s go home and get dried off,” Judy said, but there was something significant in the way she said it. It was like looking at the twelve-year-old version of my sister, the tone of her voice, that hungry look she used to give me. And the words weren’t so different from the ones she’d used back then:

Let’s borrow one of Dad’s magazines, Sarah. Let’s go into the bathroom and lock the door. We can do that thing again.

5

Back at my sister’s place, I bundled everyone’s wet clothes into the tumble dryer. Judy let me borrow some lounge pants and a t-shirt, but Kerry persuaded her cousin that the two of them should just hang out in their panties. It soon became obvious why.

“Aunt Judy, will you take some more pictures of us?” my daughter asked as we sat in the lounge.

“You’re such an exhibitionist,” I told her.

Kerry furrowed her brow. “What does that mean?”

“Your mum’s calling you a showoff,” Judy explained.

“Okay, I guess… but will you?”

My sister gave me a shrug. “I don’t see the harm in a few photos. What do you think, Mummy?”

“What if Marco comes back?” I said.

“He plays golf on Saturdays. He’s gone most of the day.”

“In the rain?”

“They have a bar. But we should probably take it upstairs, just in case.”

The girls bounded up the stairs in front of us. We found them in Izzy’s bedroom, sprawled out on her bed. Judy held up her phone. “Strike a pose!”

Kerry put both arms behind her head, then finished off the pose with a sassy little pout. Izzy tried to imitate her cousin, but ended up looking more like a startled goldfish. Judy prowled the foot of the bed, capturing the moment shot by shot.

“Shall we take our knickers off?” an eager Kerry asked as she climbed from the bed, fingers already poised at the waistband.

“Leave them on for the moment,” I told her, distracted by the sound of car tyres on gravel outside.

“What’s up?” Judy asked.

“Is that Marco pulling into your driveway? Shit, I think it is.”

“It’s next door, for heaven’s sake! Will you just relax, Sarah? He’s not going to catch us at it.”

Catch us at it. If we were still within the boundaries of an innocent, albeit risqué, photoshoot with our children, I had a feeling Judy wasn’t planning to keep it that way. Regardless, I tried to put my worries to one side. Mostly because I was feeling horny as fuck.

“Izzy, stand in front of Kerry,” My sister said. Izzy bounced from the bed to follow her instructions. “Now, Kerry, I want you to put your hands over Izzy’s nipples. Yeah, just like that.”

“Cute,” I admitted, and we both snapped off more shots.

I knelt down to get a better angle, fancying myself quite the fashion photographer. “Okay, stay like that, girls. Kerry, I want you to kiss Izzy’s neck.”

Kerry planted a quick peck on her cousin’s nape.

“No, silly – you need to keep your lips there, so we can get it in the picture.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry.” Kerry made another attempt, her lips lingering this time. Izzy giggled as Judy and I took some more pics.

Next, we had the two of them facing one another on all fours upon the bed, lips meeting in an adorable kiss.

Snap.

Then Kerry was sitting on the edge of the bed with Izzy in her lap.

“Pull your knickers up around your waists, girls,” Judy said. “Now spread your legs nice and wide. Ooh, so naughty!”

The thin cotton was moulded around their puffy mounds, two tantalising slits clearly visible.

Snap.

By then, I knew full well where this was going. Judy did, too. There was no stopping it now; no desire to even try. Fashion photographers? No. Child pornographers.

“Kerry?” I heard myself say.

“Yeah?”

“Put your hand between Izzy’s legs. That’s good. Izzy, look up at Kerry and give her a little smile. Perfect. Hold it there…”

Snap snap.

“Slip your fingers into Izzy’s knickers, Kerry,” Judy said. “Just an inch or two.”

Snap snap.

“Now all the way inside. Close your eyes and pretend you’re enjoying it, Izzy.”

“I am enjoying it,” Izzy insisted. “But if Kerry moves her hand around, it would feel nicer.”

“It’s okay to touch Izzy for real, Kerry,” Judy told my daughter. “Make her feel good.”

“I thought we were just doing poses,” Kerry replied with a smirk, then began moving her hand up and down beneath the pink cotton of Izzy’s undies.

Snap snap snap.

Then it was time for the panties to come off.

We had Kerry stand up on the bed while Izzy knelt below her and slowly pulled her cousin’s knickers down.

Two inches. The tease of my eight-year-old’s puffy pubis.

Snap.

Another inch. The beginning of her slit.

Snap snap.

And another. The delicate gossamer petals of her labia.

Snap snap snap.

Then Judy was telling her little girl to kiss Kerry’s mound, and just like that, Izzy’s lips were pressed against her older cousin’s vagina.

Next, we had them reverse positions, telling Kerry to peel down Izzy’s panties with her teeth. It took her a few tries, but she finally managed it. Then we got them to kneel on the bed with their knickers round their knees, cupping each other’s bums while they kissed with tongues, both giggling at the absurdity of it.

Judy and I shared a look. Lust, apprehension, excitement; the merest hint of shame.

“Are we okay?” I asked my sister. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah. I think so,” Judy said. “I’m having fun, anyway. We should take more pics. Dirtier ones.”

“Let’s make a movie,” I suggested, switching from photo to video. Judy did the same.

We filmed the girls as they fondled each other for a while, but Judy clearly wanted to spice things up. “Izzy, get on your hands and knees. No, facing away from us, poppet. That’s it. Kerry, will you kiss Izzy’s bum for us? Oh, that’s so sexy. Keep doing that. Wait; move your head to the side a bit, so we can see what you’re doing. Perfect!”

“Stick your tongue out and lick her bum cheek every now and then,” I chipped in.

Kerry pursed her lips into a bit of a pout. “Can’t I pick some things to do?” she asked us.

“Of course you can, sweetie,” Judy told her. “Show us how rude you can be.”

Kerry’s eyes lit up into mischievous beacons. “Okay! Izzy, you lay back on the carpet and spread your legs open.”

Izzy got down on the carpet and slung her legs apart. Kerry squatted over her face, pussy lips prised open.

“My goodness,” Judy near-whispered. “I think I need to get these knickers off.” My sister shucked off her jeans and panties, a hand quickly finding its way between her thighs. “Izzy, be a good girl and give your cousin’s truffle a nice lick. Squat down just a little lower, Kerry.”

Izzy flicked her tongue out and tasted Kerry’s pussy. Kerry drew in a sudden gasp of breath, a delighted grin illuminating her face. “That feels really nice!”

“I know how to lick truffles ‘cause I licked Frankie’s,” Izzy blurted.

A wry exchange passed between Judy and I. Kerry had no idea about the naughty things we’d been getting up to with her cousin, of course. I think I preferred to keep it that way for now.

“Uh, what?” a bemused Kerry snorted. “No, you didn’t! Just lick me some more, Izzy. Then I’ll lick you, okay?”

My pussy was throbbing like crazy. I followed Judy’s lead and slipped out of my lounge pants and knickers, then went to work on my clit while I filmed the children.

“Will you lick mine now, Kerry?” Izzy asked her older cousin.

Kerry looked to my sister for approval. “Can I, Aunt Judy?”

“How about we have you both lick one another at the same time?” Judy suggested, giving me a sly look.

I smiled back, because I knew exactly what she was thinking. “You want to see them do a sixty-nine?”

“Yeah. Don’t you?”

Instead of answering her, I patted the bed. “Lie on your back here, Peanut.”

Kerry straightened to her feet and fell back onto the bed with a laugh.

I folded to my knees next to Izzy, moving my phone down her body until I was focused on the smooth crease nestled between her thighs. I wanted to put my mouth there, explore her with my tongue, but not with Kerry present. I wasn’t ready to do that with my daughter watching, mindful not to foster any kind of jealousy or resentment. “Come and lie on top of Kerry, cutie,” I told my niece softly, running my fingers through her dark hair. “I’ll show you how.”

After a brief explanation and some minor adjustments, Judy and I watched, utterly captivated, as our daughters licked one another. Judy switched back to photos and took a few shots from different angles. Having done that, she quietly put her phone down on the windowsill, leant back against the wall and jammed two fingers into her cunt, aggressively fucking herself.

I slid a hand across Izzy’s bare back, then leaned in to kiss Kerry on the brow. “Spread her bum cheeks open,” I whispered to my daughter. “Yeah, just like that. Taste her. You’re doing such a good job, Peanut. Mummy’s going to film you for a while now.” I moved to the opposite end of our little girls’ entanglement and kissed Izzy on the cheek. I could smell my daughter’s sex, subtle but intoxicating. “Keep licking, Izzy.”

I stepped back and concentrated on filming the obscene spectacle, moving around the girls to get at it from various angles, frequently zooming in to get close-up shots of little tongues gliding over baby-smooth pussies. My free hand pressed into the hot, moist nest of my sex.

Judy was still fingering herself hard and fast, her face set in a decidedly unmotherly snarl. “Fuck,” she hissed, and, “Lick those sweet pussies,” and, “Good girls,” and, “Oh my God, Sarah,” and, “I’m going to come!”

My sister’s knees buckled, and she slid down the wall into a squat. Her fingers popped free of her cunt, a gush of liquid spraying the carpet beneath her. “Urgh!”

Then Izzy was rolling off Kerry. “I’m bored of this game,” she declared haughtily. “And I need a wee.”

“So do I,” Kerry said.

Judy was still slumped against the wall, her eyes glazed over. I took the girls into the bathroom, told them to climb into the bathtub, and then persuaded them to piss on each other while I filmed them and masturbated.

What can I say? I was a lost cause by then.

Judy wouldn’t look me in the eye when we’d all dressed and made our way downstairs. That was okay. It had always been her way of dealing with things. Refuse to acknowledge it. Pretend it didn’t happen. Until the next time. Because there was always a next time with Judy.

6

Frankie was in the lounge painting her toenails when Kerry and I got back home. “How was your picnic?” she asked me.

I did my best to remain impassive. “It was a bit of a washout, to be honest. So we went back to Judy’s place for the afternoon.”

“Oh, sounds boring.”

“Not exactly,” I told her coyly. “Hey, you’re good at editing videos and stuff, right?”

“I’ve been known to tinker. Why do you ask?”

I handed her my phone. “I’ve got some videos and pictures of Izzy and Kerry playing. I transferred all the stuff Judy took onto my phone as well. Think you could do something with it?”

“I’ll have a go, but I’m not exactly Spielberg. Let me run over the footage while I have a pee.”

Frankie sauntered off to the bathroom, thankfully oblivious to the little smirk I was sporting.

Kerry wandered into the lounge, a glass of cola in one hand. “Hey, can I watch you and Frankie have sex again some time?” she asked casually, as if that were a perfectly normal request for an eight-year-old to make of her mother.

“Maybe,” I told her.

“I could film you this time, couldn’t I?”

“Mmm. Maybe.”

Yes. Another little sex education lesson. Something a bit dirtier this time, something a bit more… visceral. And more naughty games at breakfast, too. Maybe I’d have Kerry smell my pussy without my panties on. Or maybe it would be better to start doing that after school instead, when we had more time to enjoy ourselves. Frankie could join us, too. I wondered how Kerry would feel about watching some porn with us.

Tingling from head to toe, I drew Kerry towards me and wrapped myself round her exquisite young body, basking in the fresh and familiar scent she exuded. “You’re such a good girl” I murmured, trailing my fingers through her soft blonde curls. “I’m glad you’re back with us on weekends. We’re gonna have so much fun.”

“Holy fuuuck!” Frankie hollered from up in the bathroom. I couldn’t help but laugh.

“What’s the matter with Frankie?” Kerry asked, frowning up at the ceiling.

I shrugged. “Must have dropped her phone down the toilet again.”

On to Chapter Seven!