Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

Author Unknown

Reworked by JetBoy for Juicy Secrets

***

I was thirty-two when I divorced my husband. Thirty-two and free at last. Free, embarking on a new life with my fourteen-year-old daughter Elle. A future filled with uncertainty, risk and opportunity. What would I make of it?

A bit intimidated by my new circumstances, I sought support from a group of newly divorced women who met weekly at the local library. Most were about my age, some a little younger, some older.

One woman, however, stood out immediately. Sena was different not only because she was by far the youngest – maybe twenty-two – but also because she was so beautiful. She had long blonde hair, a slender but shapely body with perfect lines, and a manner that suggested confidence and humor. All of us were charmed by her presence. She was a delight.

After my fourth meeting with the group I found myself walking out the door with Sena. I couldn’t resist telling her how much I liked her, her humor, her stories. She chatted me up very naturally and I found myself at a Starbucks talking with her. We were there for hours.

When we got up to go, Sena suggested we meet the coming Friday night at a place more interesting than a coffee shop. She took a napkin and wrote an address on it along with 10pm Friday. I said I would be there. When I asked Sena what I should wear, she simply stated, “It’s a club… look hot.” I laughed and said I would try.

Before Friday came I went shopping. I was on a mission to find something hot. I told myself that it was for the guys I might meet with Sena, but now I know that was not true… I wanted to look hot for her. Each day heading towards Friday I was more and more consumed by thoughts of her. Thinking about how beautiful she was, how sexy.

When Friday finally came, I kissed my daughter Elle goodnight. She had made a big deal over my new clothes. My short skirt and low cut blouse had made her stare and exclaim, “Wow!” We laughed about how I was back on the market, out looking for a man… I couldn’t possibly tell her the truth, about how I was dressed up for a young woman only a few years older than she was. What would she think? How would she feel? Besides, I hadn’t admitted it to myself yet… how could I explain it to my daughter?

I got to the club a little early. It was a nice place, quiet and dark with a small dance floor and an oak bar with brass trimmings. As I started to look around, I noticed that there were more than a few beautiful women hanging in the bar. Not only were they beautiful, but many of them were quite young, about Sena’s age or a little older.

Then I noticed that there were no men anywhere to be seen. How could a club with so many hot girls not have any men ogling them, trying to score? Finally, I noticed that more than a few of the women appeared to be paired up. Had Sena suggested we meet at a lesbian bar? The thought thrilled me to the core.

I looked again for Sena. Where was she? Here I was, alone, dressed to attract sex, in a lesbian bar. Was Sena into girls? Did she come here often? Why did she ask me to come here? Did she sense my attraction to her? Was she attracted to me?

My mind raced, considering all these possibilities. I kept looking for Sena, but she still hadn’t arrived. Then I noticed some of the women looking at me. Trying to appear nonchalant, I walked over to the bar and perched on a stool. The bartender looked like she was still in college, wearing a black halter top that exposed the sexiest tan tummy. As she asked me what I wanted, I could only think about how hot she looked. I ordered a martini.

Dressed as I was, I realized that I appeared to be looking for action. The fact that I actually was a woman looking for action in a lesbian bar never really occurred to me. Although I tried to resist it, I was getting hot just by being in the club. I found myself striking poses that casually revealed my body to any woman there who might be interested. I found myself looking around to see if anyone was interested.

To my left at a small table were two women staring at me and whispering to each other. I felt heat between my legs. To my right was an older woman, very striking in appearance, who was also looking.

Then from across the room, a young girl with short black hair was walking towards me. She looked right into my eyes as she passed through the tables and worked her way to me at the bar.

She was hot, very hot. Her short black dress highlighted her small yet perfectly proportioned tits and long beautiful legs. Her neck was so tantalizing that I found myself wanting to bury my face in it. I suspected that she could seduce anyone. Then I realized she could seduce me, right here at this bar, in front of all these women.

“Buy you a drink?” is all she said, her eyes penetrating into my soul.

I felt myself becoming anxious. This young girl was hitting on me. Everyone could see her do it. Everyone could see me, see how I was dressed, see how she was coming on to me. Everyone would think I was into girls, that I was looking for lesbian sex, that I was gay.

The bartender set down my martini and said, “Sure, Stacie. You can pay for this one. What do you want?”

Stacie never took her eyes off me. “Get me whatever she’s having.”

I never said anything. I just sat on the stool as she looked into my eyes. I felt her gaze as it moved down to my breasts. She wasn’t subtle about looking at them, just stared and quietly said, “Nice.” Then she looked back into my eyes and asked, “First time?”

I couldn’t even answer her. My head was spinning. I felt the heat between my legs. She just smiled at me as I remained mute, probably looking overwhelmed by her mere presence, her interest in me, her lust. I didn’t know what to say, but I knew that if she wanted to fuck me -– to take me home or even lead me into the restroom in the back and have me there -– she could do it. Who was I to stop her?

“Jesus, Stacie,” said a familiar voice coming from behind me. “You’re always after the newbies.”

It was Sena. She had arrived and was taking charge. “This one is with me.”

Stacie looked at Sena, then back at me. Getting up, she said, “Enjoy your drinks.” She turned and walked away.

As I stared at Stacie leaving, Sena whispered in my ear, “She’s gorgeous, but a bit much for you right now, don’t you think?” Then she lightly kissed my ear.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Well,” Sena explained, “before you had finished that drink, Stacie would have had her tongue in your mouth and her hand in your panties. And she would have done it right here at the bar, as publicly as possible. There’s even a chalk board in the little girl’s room that keeps her scores posted… a bit of an inside joke.”

The bartender arrived with a drink for Sena, who slipped a ten-dollar bill into the redhead’s shirt pocket with a wink. It was obvious that she was a regular here.

She held up her glass for a toast. “To a wonderful evening,” she said softly. We clinked glasses and drank, then Sena put her drink down and brushed my hand with her fingertips. “God, you look hot tonight…”

A few feet away from us, a tall young woman greeted a teenage girl with a full-body embrace and a steamy kiss. Well, I certainly couldn’t pretend I didn’t know what was going on now.

“So…” I slowly said, “this is a lesbian bar.”

“The girl’s perceptive,” Sena laughed.

“So…” I again slowly mused, “are you a lesbian?”

“Well,” Sena explained, “technically I’m bisexual, having been married and all. But I guess that’s why I got divorced… I couldn’t stop fucking college girls. My husband couldn’t handle it. In all honesty, I’m pretty much done with men.”

“So…” I slowly mused for a third time, “why did you ask me here? Do you like me? I mean, are you interested in me?”

“What’s not to like?” Sena replied with a suggestive smile. “Tell you what, let’s take these drinks to a booth near the back and find out how we feel about each other.”

Sena grabbed her drink and my hand, and we headed towards the back of the bar. My heart was pounding with excitement. I didn’t know what to expect. But maybe, just maybe, before I finished my drink Sena would be kissing me just like that woman I had just seen. We slid into a booth and sat close to each other, looking into each other’s eyes.

***

When I awoke the next morning in Sena’s bed, her apartment was quiet except for the clicking of computer keys. I looked at the empty pillow next to me and realized my beautiful Sena, my new lover, my very first lesbian fuck, was already up and apparently hard at work. Still naked, I followed the clicking sound into her study.

There she was, my delightful Sena, naked at the computer, checking her email. I came up behind her, cupped both her breasts with my hands and kissed her neck.

“Mmmm, that feels good,” was all she said as she finished her last email. “But don’t get me started, not until I’ve made coffee.”

Then Sena got up and motioned for me to sit at the computer. “Click around. There are lots of cool things to see on my computer,” she told me with a sly smile.

As she went into the kitchen to make coffee, I sat down and started looking at the different folders on the screen. Sena called from the kitchen, “Click the folder named ‘The Best’ and then open up the folders in there that look interesting to you.”

I found the folder, clicked on it, and saw that it was filled with many subfolders. I clicked on one named ‘Sisters’ and suddenly found myself looking at an extraordinarily beautiful pair of girls – identical twins – kissing each other!

As I clicked through a series of pictures of these sexy twins, I started to tingle all over. They went from kissing to finger fucking to dildo action. The last picture showed one twin licking the asshole of the other. Needless to say, I was getting very wet.

The next picture was of a different pair of sisters, going at it just as hard and looking just as sexy as the first pair. I quickly moved through a few dozen of these loving sisters before trying another folder.

I saw one named “College” and opened it to find tons of young girls, all sexy, all really cute, all either making out or fucking. Seeing these pictures of sexy girls getting it on made me even hotter. I started to wonder why I hadn’t done that while I was in college.

Then Sena was sitting on the floor next to me. She reached for the mouse, closed that folder, looked me in the eye, and said, “Time to get serious now.” I thought she was going to take me right there, right in front of her computer. Instead, Sena clicked on another folder named “Young.”

The first picture hooked me instantly. It was of two very, very young girls – very young and very attractive. Their bodies looked about twelve, but the sex in their eyes made them look experienced, lustful, ready to fuck.

They were wearing skimpy halter tops and panties. Their slender, childish bodies were exquisite. As Sena clicked through the series I saw the young girls kiss, feel each other up, strip one another naked, lick and kiss each other’s nipples, finger each other’s hairless cunts. As I looked at the last picture in the series where one little girl ate out her little friend, Sena took my hand and put it on my cunt. I immediately started masturbating right in front of my lover, masturbating to pictures of very young girls making love.

Sena showed me picture after picture of young girls: twelve-year-old girls kissing and touching; thirteen-year-old girls masturbating while they looked at skin magazines; groups of young girls getting naked, getting excited, fucking each other… older girls with younger girls; younger girls with even younger girls… I masturbated harder and harder at the sight of their budding breasts, their firm little nipples, their hairless cunts, the desire in their young eyes.

As soon as I saw the next series, however, I realized it would put me over the top. It was called “Moms.”

The first shot was of a very young girl, maybe fifteen, very pretty, very tan, with absolutely exquisite breasts. She had the sexiest little body… athletic, trim, and incredibly hot. With her was a woman, an older woman who looked like she might be the girl’s mother. As I saw more of the pictures in the series, I realized: that’s exactly who she was.

They were mother and daughter, they were naked, they were about to make love. As they kissed hotly, I moaned out loud. As the next photo revealed the girl sucking on her mom’s nipples, a soft “Yes,” escaped my lips.

As the mom fingered her daughter, I started to come. As the girl used her tongue to lick her mom’s cunt, I came and I came hard. It was the most powerful orgasm of my life, and I got it by masturbating to pornography, masturbating to the sight of a beautiful mom fucking her hot young daughter, masturbating right in front of Sena.

When it was over and my body belonged to me once again, Sena, licking at my nipples, raised her face to smile wickedly at me. “That will give you something to think about,” she whispered.

I was still a little too hazy from my pleasure to respond to what Sena had said, but she had planted a picture in my mind. I looked again at the series of pictures of the mom and daughter fucking, already feeling hungry for more lovemaking. I grabbed Sena and took her right there on the floor, licking her pussy until she begged me to stop.

***

Over the next two weeks Sena and I saw each other often. We fucked like animals each time we got together. These sex sessions were often over lunch or at some other time that wouldn’t make my daughter suspicious.

For weeks, I was planning my sex life around Elle’s schedule. Then one day, unexpectedly, she asked permission to spend the night at her friend Annie’s house. I tried to play it cool, act like I was thinking about it. Eventually I told Elle that it was okay with me, as long as she got her schoolwork done before she went.

When I told Sena about it, I was so excited I could hardly contain myself. We would finally be able to spend the night together again! Sena was thrilled, and suggested she come over to my place this time. We both looked forward to Saturday.

I had told Sena to come over to the house around 4 PM because my daughter was supposed to have left by then for the sleepover. But then Annie called to let Elle know that she was running late, and to come over at 5 PM instead. When Sena arrived, Elle was still home, lying out back in a bikini sunning herself. Elle couldn’t see us from the patio, so I let Sena kiss me once she was inside the front door.

As we kissed, it was obvious how hot we were for each other. Sena immediately started pulling at my clothes and I wanted to let her, I wanted her to fuck me right there in the entry hall. But instead I told her, “We can’t, not just yet. My daughter’s still here. Don’t worry, she’ll be leaving soon.”

“Okay, that’s cool,” Sena replied.

“You can kiss me again, though,” I said, reaching for my lover.

As Sena’s mouth met mine, we both heard the back door open, which meant that Elle was coming back inside. Sena and I quickly drew apart, made sure we were both presentable, then I led her to the kitchen to meet my daughter for the first time.

I made the introductions, and we began to chat. Sena was her usual charming self, and Elle took to her right away. After a few minutes, Elle said she needed to get ready to leave.

While she was upstairs getting dressed, Sena simply said, “You have a beautiful daughter.” Then she came over to me to sneak a little kiss and give my ass a squeeze. I was anxious for Elle to leave so that Sena and I could fuck.

Finally, Elle came down the stairs, dressed in jeans and a shirt, an overnight bag slung over her shoulder. She shook hands again with Sena, gave me a kiss and hug goodbye, and left to walk to her friend’s house. As I watched her walk down the street, she turned and waved goodbye.

As soon as Elle was out of sight, Sena grabbed me, pushed me up against the wall and kissed me with a fierce hunger I had not experienced from her before. She was ravenous for me, her tongue fucking my mouth furiously, her hands groping my breasts. I was hot for her, too. I kissed Sena hungrily and started tearing at her clothes.

I heard her moan as her fingers found my nipples. “They’re all yours,” I replied as I pushed my breasts up into Sena’s hands.

“God,” she breathed, “you have such beautiful tits.”

Sena’s erotic exclamations made me even hotter, made me arch my back to thrust my breasts at her as she moaned about how beautiful they were. As her hand came down and cupped my pussy, Sena whispered, “And your cunt… your cunt is so hot.”

“It is,” I moaned back as Sena yanked down my jeans and panties. She brought them just low enough so that she could play with my naked cunt. Her finger pushed up into me, just the tip at first… and then, suddenly, all the way up into me so that her knuckles ground against my labia.

Then she was looking me in the eye, “Has anyone ever fucked you like this? Have you ever had your cunt fingered so deep? Has anyone ever pleasured you so well?”

“Only you, my love,” I whispered back as my cunt started to drip down my thighs from her finger play. “Only you.”

Sena seemed in an erotic daze, kissing me, fingering me, whipping me into a sexual frenzy. Suddenly her hands were lowering my jeans and panties to the floor. I stepped out of them. As I pulled off my top, Sena stripped herself naked in seconds. Then she placed a warm hand on my chest and pushed me onto the hall table. As I sat there, back against the wall, Sena parted my legs and gazed rapturously at my wet cunt.

With both her hands, she open my sticky labia and stared into my sex. Her breathing was heavy as her finger plunged into my cunt again. She pulled it out, sucked it clean and then pushed two fingers in me. I felt my vagina contracting around them.

“So beautiful,” Sena whispered as she made little thrusts into my cunt. “So beautiful. Your pussy is so beautiful.”

I was moaning, whimpering, my pleasure building to a crescendo… and then her mouth was brushing my ear as she whispered, “You know someone else who is incredibly beautiful… someone I’d just love to fuck…”

I shook my head… then she shocked the hell out of me when she replied:

“Why, that beautiful daughter of yours.”

I could feel the blood drain from my face, only able to gasp, “W-what?”

Sena broke off her kisses and stepped back from me. There I was sitting on the table, sitting on the cusp of an earth-shattering orgasm, my legs wide open, my cunt aching, my breasts swelling. I weakly asked a second time, “What?”

“Elle,” Sena replied, looking into my eyes intensely. “Your daughter. Don’t you want to fuck her? Don’t you want to watch me fuck her? Isn’t she totally hot?”

“Nooo,” I slowly whispered, nearly struck speechless.

But I felt my hips twitching, then rocking, my body crying out for Sena’s touch. I was aroused by her words — how could that be?

“Oh, right,” laughed Sena. “You don’t think you should fuck Elle, being her mother and all. But don’t you want to fuck her? Don’t you want to watch me fuck her?”

Before I could answer, Sena slipped four fingers into my cunt. With her other hand she started to play with my clit. Oh, God, she was going to finish me off right now.

With her hand fingering me faster and faster, Sena spoke softly. “Imagine Elle here with us. Imagine her lying naked in bed between you and me, both of us caressing her body. Don’t you want to fuck her? Don’t you?”

Then Sena glanced down at her fingers, still sliding in and out of my pussy, then back up at me with a wicked smirk. Suddenly I could feel my cunt being opened even wider. Oh, GOD… she was pushing her whole hand into me. I had heard of fist fucking before, but had never experienced such a thing myself.

It was incredible. I had never felt so full, so completely, satisfyingly penetrated before. Once her hand was completely inside, she wriggled it around in me a bit before she began to pump her arm in and out. My breath hissed through my clenched teeth as she started fisting me for real. As her hand moved, she spoke again.

“Imagine Elle climbing on top of you, slipping her thigh between your legs. She smiles at you, then your mouths touch in a soft kiss. Then you and Elle are kissing for real, like lovers. Your hand slides down her body to touch her pussy. She’s so wet… wet for you. Her sweet, loving mother.”

I was being fist fucked for the first time in my life. Fist fucked into orgasm as my lesbian lover described to me her forbidden desire to have my young daughter join us, join our sex. I was going to come.

“Imagine her straddling your face, offering you her pussy. She wants this, lover… your own daughter wants you to kiss her there, to taste that beautiful young cunt of hers. Have you seen her cunt? Don’t you want to see it?”

As I started to come, almost against my will, I was imagining Elle with us. My daughter Elle naked. Elle being kissed by Sena. Elle’s budding breasts. Elle kissing Sena’s mouth. Elle’s flat tummy. Sena’s tongue lavishing my daughter’s young mouth. Elle’s long beautiful legs. Sena caressing those legs. Elle parting her legs for Sena. Elle’s cunt. Elle’s cunt being licked by Sena.

I imagined going down on Elle… lying between her thin thighs and making my daughter mine. Taking her as my lover. I wondered how long I’d wanted this without knowing it.

I started to scream as a convulsive orgasm seized me. I closed my eyes and saw my sweet daughter in wild, frantic orgasm, screaming herself as I loved her.

I came and I came and I came… all the while seeing Elle in my mind, naked in my arms, moaning, crying, coming.

Finally, I was completely spent. So weak I couldn’t move. I rested, my eyes closed, rested to find strength. In my mind, the most erotic image floated up: Elle, my sweet little Elle, exhausted from orgasm, moisture glistening over her young girl’s body, her small breasts heaving with erect, pointed nipples, her legs wide open, lying in my arms, her eyes closed as I gently kissed her mouth.

As my breathing became less desperate, my heartbeat less frantic, I sensed Sena gently nuzzling my neck and shoulders. Her fist was still in my cunt, moving slightly, gently, slowly easing itself in and out. As she fucked me, her body squirmed atop mine, and I felt her tongue part my lips. My mouth opened to her, and we kissed with lusty fervor. Then I felt her face raise up from mine.

Gradually – still too weak to move, to speak – I opened my eyes to gaze tenderly at my lover, but she was staring intently down the hall towards the door. I felt her fist gently push itself back into me, then slowly out again, then in again. I turned my eyes down the hall to see what Sena was staring at.

I saw someone in the doorway, someone young and beautiful. I saw my Elle, staring at Sena and me. There she stood, still in her school uniform.

Even the sight of my daughter staring at us could not restore my strength. Still too weak to move, I just sat there on the table with Sena’s fist slowly moving in and out of my wide open cunt. Too shocked to speak, I tried… but only a whispered “Elle,” came out.

I was frightened. My daughter was standing there, staring at me, her own mother, indulging in sex play with her lesbian lover.

The look on Elle’s face was unimaginable. She was awestruck, mesmerized, entranced… her eyes filled with shock and surprise. But there was more: Elle was excited. I could see her excitement glowing through her eyes. She stood there, impossibly beautiful, looking at us with interest in her eyes, with lust in her eyes.

She looked at us with sex in her eyes.

This, this is what Sena was staring back at: the sex in Elle’s eyes. My lover recognized it immediately. That’s why she continued to slowly fist fuck me in front of my own daughter. Sena was exciting Elle by pleasuring me in front of her.

And now I too was looking at Elle. Too weak to cover myself, too weak to stop Sena, too weak to do anything but accept the slow-motion of Sena’s hand twisting in and out of my vagina.

I watched Elle’s gaze move from Sena’s eyes to mine, down to my bare breasts, down to the fist inside me, over to Sena’s naked body, up into Sena’s eyes.

Sena carefully removed her hand from my cunt, quietly stood and turned to face my daughter. Her nipples were firm and hard. She returned Elle’s stare and slowly padded barefoot towards her.

I saw Elle’s lips part slightly. I saw the desire she felt.

As Sena approached Elle she raised her hand, still wet from my body, and cupped Elle’s left breast. As she fondled my daughter, I could see my essence from my cunt staining Elle’s shirt. Elle arched her back as if to make her breasts more available to Sena.

As Elle gazed into Sena’s eyes with a deep hunger that shocked me. Sena smiled back and quietly said, “You are so lovely… so perfect.”

Elle was breathing heavily by now, her mouth open, eyes ablaze. As Sena’s lips lightly nibbled at Elle’s mouth, I heard a quiet sigh of pleasure from my daughter.

Sena kissed Elle.

Beautiful, naked Sena kissed my fourteen-year-old daughter like a lover right in front of me. I sat naked on the hall table, my legs wide open, transfixed by this incredible sight.

As Sena’s tongue gently fucked its way into Elle’s open mouth, I saw Elle’s eyes flutter, then close in rapture. Sena kissed her, and suddenly Elle was returning the kiss, her tongue flashing into my lover’s mouth.

My child melted into Sena’s arms. I watched my lover kiss my daughter, watched her hand travel down from Elle’s stained shirt, over her flat tummy, down to her pale thigh. Sena stroked Elle’s soft skin as they kissed… then that exploring hand slipped beneath Elle’s skirt. My head spun at  the sight of Sena’s hand sliding into my daughter’s panties, at the sound of Elle’s gasp as my lover touched between her legs. My daughter shuddered with pleasure, moaning deeply into Sena’s embrace.

I imagined Sena’s finger pushing into Elle’s cunt just as Sena’s tongue was flicking in and out of her luscious mouth. It was the hottest, most arousing sight I had ever known. I realized that I wanted to see Sena fuck my daughter.

I realized that I wanted to fuck my daughter.

I realized that I would fuck my daughter.

Then Sena released my panting child from her hot embrace. She turned Elle towards me and gently nudged her in my direction. I felt my buttocks tighten, my cunt tingle. As my daughter slowly approached, her eyes burning into mine, I found my legs spreading further apart, inviting her into me.

Elle stopped about two feet short of me. She stared openly at my breasts, my glistening cunt, my naked body… now offered up to her.

Sena urged her on. “Unbutton your shirt, Elle.”

Elle never hesitated. Eyes flashing with excitement, she started unbuttoning her shirt. As it opened I saw her smooth pale skin, her lacy bra, her smooth tummy melting into the top of her skirt. As Elle unfastened the last button, Sena pulled the shirt off my daughter’s shoulders and dropped it to the floor. Elle stood between her naked mother and her mom’s equally naked lesbian lover, in a skirt and a little white bra. God, she was hot. I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

Then her bra was loosened, and I realized that Sena had undone the clasp. “Take your bra off slowly, Elle,” instructed Sena. “Tease your mom a bit… she wants to see your breasts.”

Elle did tease me. First she lowered the bra just enough so that I could see the pale softness of those beautiful little breasts of hers. Then, slowly, she lowered the bra down just past her nipples. I thought I might faint, they were so delectable. I whimpered, my cunt a river. Elle dropped her bra to the floor and stood before me.

Then I saw Sena’s hands come from behind to cup Elle’s breasts, cup them and caress them, her fingers brushing those delectable nipples.

“Now take off your skirt, Elle,” Sena whispered, nuzzling my daughter’s ear. “Show your mom those long, beautiful legs of yours. Show her your smooth young thighs. Show her your body. Make her want it, make her want you.”

Again, Elle needed no encouragement. She gazed at my nakedness as she unzipped her plaid skirt. Her eyes rising to meet mine, Elle licked her lips as she lowered the skirt to the floor and stepped out of it. She hooked her fingers in the waistband of her panties and lowered them slightly, teasing me with a glimpse of her chestnut pubes. Elle smiled a dark, sexual smile at me. She clearly saw my desire for her. She was realizing that she would have me. Elle knew that we would soon be making love.

“Go ahead,” urged Sena. “take off your panties. Show Mommy your pussy. Open those legs and let your mom see that beautiful cunt of yours. Drive her wild, sweetie.”

Elle slowly slid her panties down her thighs, revealing her sparse, downy pubes and the sweet pinkness of her sex. She was now naked, and visibly wet.

When I heard Sena chuckle excitedly, I realized that I was staring at my daughter, trembling with desire, making my lust obvious to all. Elle wasn’t laughing, however. She just smiled that dark, sexual smile at me. She knew how badly I wanted her… and I knew that she wanted me as well.

Sena embraced Elle from behind, claiming my daughter’s breasts with her hands, dipping her head to plant a kiss on her neck. Elle sighed with pleasure, and Sena’s hands moved from Elle’s breasts to slip down her tummy and between her legs. She used both hands to stroke Elle’s cunt, parting her sticky labia, her fingertips exploring the girl to find her clit.

Elle’s cunt was gorgeous. Sena expertly stroked it, toyed with it, excited it. Elle whimpered as Sena gently fingered her clit, making her dizzy with the need to come. Within seconds, Elle’s pussy was so wet that her essence was oozing down her thighs.

Sena was rubbing her own cunt up against Elle’s ass, grinding against my daughter. As Sena humped Elle’s ass, still playing with the young girl’s pussy, she was moving Elle towards me, positioning my daughter right between my legs.

My thighs parted even further as I stared at Elle’s magnificent cunt, just inches from my own. Sena pushed herself against Elle’s ass one more time… and suddenly Elle’s cunt was against mine, her wetness and heat mingling with my own. All three of us gasped loudly.

Sena thrust her hips against my daughter’s ass again, and Elle’s cunt pressed harder into mine. Sena thrust again. And again. And again. As she got a steady rhythm going, Elle began to push her cunt against mine in time with Sena’s thrusts. The feeling was beyond anything I had ever experienced.

I slid down the wall enough to tilt my hips upward, opening myself up to my darling daughter. I saw beads of perspiration forming on Elle’s breasts as she and Sena worked their hips together to fuck me. Elle leaned closer to me, pushing our breasts together. Elle and I both cried out in utter delight from the sweet sensation of our nipples brushing.

Then my mouth was on Elle’s, my tongue tasting her, fucking her, kissing her as hungrily and passionately as I had ever kissed anyone. Her own tongue flashed to life, and she returned my kiss measure for measure.

And we came.

Elle and I moaned into each other’s mouths, still grinding our cunts together, bucking and rocking in a clutching embrace. Then Sena moaned loudly as she came herself. The three of us thrust together one more time and then froze – motionless, breathless in our sweet eternity of orgasm, our forbidden fuck, our taboo love. Completely still.

I remember that the three of us eventually untangled and that Sena took Elle by the hand and led her up the stairs into my bedroom, me following close behind.

Sena laid Elle out on my bed and spread her legs wide open, spread her wide so that we could see her pussy. God, she was beautiful. When did my Elle become so beautiful, so sexual, so fuckable?

I watched Sena take her.

I watched Sena bring Elle to an explosive climax with her hot, sucking mouth. And as tears of joy and exhaustion streamed down Elle’s young face, Sena made her come yet again.

As Elle lay there, happily exhausted, spread open for everyone and anyone to fuck, her body glistening with sweat, face flushed, nipples erect… as she lay there, Sena beckoned me to join them.

Then Sena rolled Elle over onto her tummy and slipped a fat pillow beneath her hips. The pillow propped up Elle’s ass, her cheeks spread slightly.

As I knelt on the bed and looked down at my young daughter, I saw her perfect little asshole exposed… so vulnerable, inviting, luscious. Sena reached for Elle’s ass and parted her cheeks, looking back at me and smiling.

“You get to be the first to make love to her ass,” Sena whispered.

The sight of my daughter’s butt crack, spread open for me, had me wet all over again. Since discovering lesbian love with Sena, I had developed a real taste for anal play… and she was now offering me a precious gift.

Elle was quivering in anticipation, thrilled at the prospect of being licked by her own mother.

I knelt behind her and leaned in close to savor the sight and smell of my daughter’s asshole. My tongue emerged and I began to gently lick her dark cleft.

Elle moaned. As my mouth and tongue pleasured her ass, I could feel her anus relax for me.

I tongue fucked Elle’s crack, loving the taste of her. As I sensed her excitement growing, my hand slipped beneath her, seeking her clit. When I found it, I started teasing it with the tips of my fingers. I could feel tremors of ecstasy pulse through Elle’s body, growing stronger by the second until she screamed out her pleasure yet again.

As she came, her ass opened for me, accepting my tongue deep inside her. I was inside her ass. I was in heaven. She shook and gasped for a long moment, finally slumping over on her side.

I crawled up to my daughter — my new lover — and drew her into a loving embrace. Out of breath as she was, Elle somehow summoned up the strength to wrap her arms around me and kiss my mouth, her tongue emerging to sample the flavor of her ass.

And so the evening went. Every imaginable combination of the three of us making love. Every possible position. Every possible fuck. Every possible pleasure.

Finally I dozed off. Later I awoke to the rocking of the bed. As I looked over at Elle, I saw her deeply kissing Sena as my lover’s fingers probed into my daughter’s cunt.

After Elle came, Sena straddled her face. I watched my daughter eat my lesbian lover, then I got on all fours and slid between Elle’s thighs to lick her pussy. She tasted wonderful.

I remember lying spread out on the bed, Sena’s mouth nibbling at mine. Down below, Elle was nuzzling my cunt. Lick me. Eat me. Make me come.

***

Our fuck fest continued, with occasional snooze breaks, until noon the next day. Then Sena had to leave, and Elle had to get dressed for a soccer match. As Elle climbed into the car with me to head to the match, dressed in her team uniform, I saw her once again as my young daughter, not my new lover. It felt strange.

While I watched Elle play soccer, I wondered if the previous night had been a dream. Worse, I worried that it might have been a one-time thing.

In the car on the way back home, Elle was clearly just being my daughter, bubbling over with excitement about the goal she scored, scorning the ref, being a young girl. Will I ever be with her as a lover again? I fretted.

As Elle showered after the game, I was in the kitchen preparing dinner. While I was chopping vegetables at the sink, I heard Elle’s soft voice from behind me, “Nice ass.”

My heart skipped. “What’s that, Elle?” I asked without turning around.

“I said that you have a nice ass, Mom,” repeated Elle.

I turned around, and what I saw took my breath away: Elle standing in the kitchen entrance, wearing nothing but her jeans.

No top, no bra, not even socks to cover up those sexy feet of hers. Her jeans were unzipped and open to reveal the top of her sparse bush. Mmm, no panties either.

I could tell by the way her nipples stood up that she had been playing with them in the shower moments before. When I looked into her face, I could see the hunger in her eyes.

Elle padded over and kissed me, kissed me ever so sweetly. Then her tongue slipped into my mouth and started to gently toy with mine, exciting me, making me wet.

Then Elle stood back. “Dinner can wait,” she whispered, stroking my face. Taking my hand, she led me upstairs to my bed… our bed, I thought to myself.

My lover was back.

The End

1

Error happened.

By Jan Vincent

{ This story was originally posted at the long-defunct Sisters in Love story site }

“You cannot marry your sister, Brenda.”

“Why?” I was defiant, furious with my mother.

“Because sisters don’t marry their sisters.”

“And why not?”

My mother’s stern face was losing its patient expression. I was her ten-year-old daughter, dressed in white taffeta, the flower girl in my older cousin Louise’s wedding.

My grandmother Rose came to my rescue. She gave me a kindly look. “Oh, let them be, Grace. They’re so cute together.”

I smiled at Granny, so absolutely happy to have her confirm that I could wed my twin sister Sylvia.

Sounds naive, doesn’t it? But when you’re ten, a lot of things make sense in your head, even if they defy what’s socially acceptable. Because you’re ten, almost anything you do can be seen as innocent play. And ever since I was a child I’ve known to whom I wanted to get married, to share my entire life with. Not to a man, not to anyone else… only Sylvia.

As Sylvia and I got older and entered our teenage years, I realized how foolish I’d been. Marry my own twin sister? It was a ridiculous idea. Sylvia was interested in guys, I wasn’t. In a way, I envied the ease with which she accepted the flirtations of boys, while I was cast away in a dream world, alone, musing about things that could never be.

My infatuation for Sylvia was platonic at first. I didn’t want her sexually then, I just knew that I liked her company, loved her embraces and kisses on my ticklish cheek. I got jealous of other people being with her. It was childish, I know, but she meant so very much to me.

Soon I would realize that I was much more interested in love with girls, rather than guys — and from there it was only a small skip to the realization that my beautiful sister was the girl I wanted most of all. She quickly became the featured performer in my hottest fantasies.

I loved her. I wanted her. It made me ache inside.

I had my own group of friends, mostly girls who were into heavy stuff like punk rock, piercings, vampires, black leather and Goth paraphernalia — like metal-studded bracelets and belts, black-tinted makeup and ripped Bauhaus t-shirts. There were a few boys in the gang, but I usually hated them because they would all get crushes on Sylvia.

My sister was one of the most popular girls at our school — smart as a whip, charming, always pretty, always adorable. We were identical twins physically, but we couldn’t have been more different when it came to our styles and tastes.

Despite that, we always got along well, especially when we were by ourselves. Sylvia liked to tickle me, because she knew how sensitive I was around my ribs and under my arms. Tickling was a game that made us relax… and enabled me to be intimate and physical with my sister without crossing a dangerous line.

Did I really want more? It’s hard to say. All I knew was that I enjoyed her touch, her knowing fingers looking for the right spot, attacking me with no mercy. I loved her winning smile the most. She was gorgeous, with long blonde hair and shimmering blue eyes. She was a happy person, and her joy was contagious, the perfect remedy to bring me out of my morose nature and periods of self-imposed isolation and loneliness.

Sylvia and I completed each other. More than friends, more than sisters, we were soul mates. Soon we would become lovers, too.

It happened when we were fifteen, and we’d been invited to a party. I usually never bothered, but Sylvia didn’t want to go without me. She wanted to see Chad, this horrible boyfriend who had hit her more than once — out of jealousy, out of drunkenness. I’d argued with her so many times about him, not able to figure out why she still had feelings for that creep. She deserved better, I told her. But she wouldn’t listen to me.

“C’mon, Brenda… come with me, please?”

“No way, Syl.”

“Why not?”

“‘Cause I hate those parties… I can’t go, really I can’t.”

She kept pleading with me. “C’mon, sis… don’t make me go on my own!”

“Why do you want me to go with you? Call your stupid friends and go with them.”

“They’re at the party already. I don’t want to go there alone.”

“You won’t be alone. All your friends are already there. You said so yourself.”

“I know,” she said, lowering her voice as she sat down on my bed, right next to me. She held my hand, her soft hands caressing my studded bracelet and wristbands. “But I want you to come with me. I feel… safe when you’re around.”

I was surprised by Sylvia’s confession of vulnerability, her willingness to accept my protection. And then she looked into my eyes and smiled at me, her expression dreamy. “And… if you come with me, I promise…”

“What?”

She giggled as if embarrassed, her face now near, her hands clutching mine. “I promise I will say yes.”

“Yes? To what?” I really didn’t know what she was talking about. So much for that myth that a twin knows everything the other twin is thinking of.

“Remember how you wanted us to get married when you were little?”

I must have grimaced, even winced, because she laughed easily at my expression.

“I know we were little,” she went on, “but I think that would be fun. I don’t know why I remembered that. It’s just… nice… to know you’re there for me, and that you’re my wonderful sister.”

It was lovely; she was lovely. My beloved twin sister still remembered my early obsession, long forgotten by common sense and the acquired knowledge of what society expects from us. How could I say no to her?

So I went to the party with Sylvia, as if I were her boyfriend, the perfect escort. She wanted me to come in with her and — despite my uncertainty — I tagged along.

An hour after we got there, I caught a glimpse of my sister and Chad talking at the end of the main hallway of the house. It was obvious that it was escalating into an argument. I know my sister very well, and she was getting mad at him. Secretly, selfishly, I hoped to God it was true. I was jealous of him — so absolutely, unequivocally jealous of that goddamned creep.

I watched them from the doorway of the den until Sylvia spotted me. Before I could speak, she pounced on my arm and dragged me with her, while Chad came after us, vociferating, spewing out a stream of vicious insults, intended to hurt. There was one that I remember clearly: “Fuckin’ dykes.”

Sylvia urged me to leave with her, clasping my arm so tightly that it hurt.

We were at least one hundred yards away from the party when she wilted and burst into tears. I was surprised by her sudden crying fit. I wanted to hug her, to make her feel better, but I didn’t want people staring at us, getting into our business.

I looked around in the deserted street, illuminated by lampposts and the headlights of an occasional car. I hunkered down on the sidewalk, brushing my sister’s satin-like hair away from her flushed face.

“He doesn’t deserve your tears, Syl. He doesn’t deserve you.”

With puffy eyes and a damp face, she gazed at me. Her long arms snaked around my neck and she kissed my cheek. I think I heard her whisper “Thank you,” but I wasn’t positive. The only thing I knew for sure is that I smiled at her and made her stand up.

It took us an eternity to reach home, as Syl wanted us to walk slowly, very slowly, as though our arrival was the final admission that she’d lost Chad forever.

When we arrived home our parents were still awake, watching TV in the den. They were surprised by our early return, but I was able to explain the whole situation without raising the painful subject of Chad.

We silently undressed in our room, brushed our teeth and went to our respective beds. In the darkness surrounding us, I could hear and feel her hushed whimpers.

“Syl?”

“Yes?”

“Come get in bed with me. Otherwise I won’t be able to sleep, what with you crying all night.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, I am.”

There was a moment of absolute silence, as though we both had stopped breathing. I heard and felt a shadow rise on her bed and scuttle toward mine.

“Thanks, sis.” She hugged me and kissed me, my cheek becoming moist with her own tears. “You’re too sweet.”

She turned over, her right hand draping my arm around her waist, her back pressing against my breasts. We remained in that position for a while, my other hand playing with her golden locks, which smelled nice and felt good between my fingers.

“Syl?”

She raised her head slightly. “Yeah?…”

“I want you to look at me. I want to ask you something.”

She did as she was told, her eyes glimmering in the darkness. I wanted her to forget Chad, ease her pain, soothe it all away.

“What?” she asked, curious.

“Will you marry me?”

I could feel her surprise in the way that she gasped right next to me. Then she giggled. “You didn’t forget.”

“Of course not.”

“Then I have to say yes, I will marry you. I promised, didn’t I? You, my future husband.”

“No, silly,” I protested. “I’m not a man. I’ll be your wife.”

“But I’m not a man, either. So, who’s gonna be the groom?”

“No groom… just two beautiful brides, me and you.”

“Yeah,” she said, giggling again. “Two twin brides. That would be something.”

I laughed as well, feeling incredibly excited, getting damp between my legs. I wanted to cover Sylvia with kisses, making her mine, all mine. Almost involuntarily, my hand left her waist and touched my sex.

“What are you doing?” she asked, a giggle dying in her mouth.

“Nothing,” I said, removing my hand from between my legs.

“Are you hot?” she asked, with a deceivingly innocent intonation.

“Well… yes. All this stuff is making me… hot.”

She laughed. “What? Why?”

“I don’t know,” I said, losing all fear, overcome by the moment and my growing lust. I began to rub myself in earnest. “Probably because we’d be so beautiful in our matching wedding gowns, I’d hitch up your veil and you would mine, and we’d kiss…”

“That would be so frigging cool,” she exclaimed, slowly becoming excited as well.

“But before that we would dress each other. I would help with your petticoat and garter belt, and you’d give me a hand with mine.”

I kept describing to her the whole process of getting a bride ready, the soft feel of lace and satin against our bodies, as I kept fondling my pussy with one hand, stroking her hair with the other. I could tell that she was getting turned on by my shameless act, but it didn’t matter if she wasn’t. Nobody could stop me. I was so close to coming.

“Then we will walk down the aisle together, hand in hand, and the priest will bless our union. And then we will have our own party, and a cake. You’ll grab my hand and we will cut the cake together. We will feed each other, then drink champagne together. Then a limousine will pick us up and take us to our honeymoon suite. And when the door closes behind us, you and I will hold hands and gaze deep, deep into each other’s eyes…”

“Go on,” she murmured. I felt her touch herself for the first time — first her own breasts, then between her thighs. “Go on, please…”

“And you will draw me into your arms and hold me close… I’ll nuzzle your neck, brushing your skin with my lips. Then I will tilt my face up to meet yours, and we’ll kiss… softly, at first.” I could feel Sylvia’s hand steal down between her thighs and slip into those French-cut panties she wore. “But the feel of our mouths as they touch is so incredible that we both want more. Your lips part enough for my tongue to slide between them, and suddenly you and I are French kissing…”

“Yes, go on,” she said with urgency, her hand making squishing sounds in her panties. “Oh, yes… Go on, Brenda… please…”

“We kiss for a long, lovely time,” I whisper in her ear. “Then we break apart and smile at each other, all shy because this is our first night together as wives. Then we begin undressing one another, a piece of clothing at a time.”

“Oh, Brenda,” she moaned. “You’re m-making me…” She didn’t continue, her breath coming in gasps as though she was on the verge of an orgasm.

I press my body against hers. “Soon you and I are completely naked, Sylvia. We look at one another for a long, sweet moment. God, you are beautiful.” My sister was trembling with excitement. “Then you pad over to our bed and lie down, waiting for me… and I climb onto the bed and kneel next to you, giving you a hot kiss before I take you in my arms…”

“Oh…” Sylvia moaned softly, “oh…”

“And we will make love, two newlyweds on their wedding night. Only we’ll make love the way girls do, our naked bodies fitting together so perfectly…”

That did it. I felt an explosion of pleasure hitting me, the heat radiating outward from my sex  and into my stretched thighs, my breasts, my nipples. I moaned low, like an animal, like a wolf.

“Oh, Brenda… that’s so…”

“Let me,” I said, displacing the hand between her legs with my own, giving away the secret hunger I had for my twin sister, heedless of the consequences.

“Brenda,” she said, her eyes wide.

“I love you,” I breathed.

When I touched Sylvia there for the first time, she moaned into my mouth. “Oh, Brenda… Brenda…” Her voice went weak, her arms encircled my neck. “Oh yes, Brenda… yes…. oh…. oooh… oh, my love.”

Overcome with passion, she gave me our very first lover’s kiss. “Oh baby, you make me so hot, so hot…”

I trailed my fingers through her outer lips and to her clitoris. “Yes… oh, yes. Like that.” She kissed me eagerly as I masturbated her. “Ooohhh!” she squealed as I gave her clit a tiny tweak. “Yes, yes. Please, baby, more. Keep doing my clit, yes, just like that.”

I felt her body move against mine, her essence coating my busy fingers while she covered my face with hot kisses, filling my ears with sounds of pleasure as she drew nearer and nearer to release.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, d-don’t stop,” she begged me. “I’m almost there…”

She came with a howl that rose from the bottom of her throat, squeezing my neck so tightly that I saw stars for a moment. But then, as her ecstasy subsided, her grip loosened and I was able to breathe again.

Sylvia lay quietly for a long time, her eyes closed, the rise and fall of her chest and an occasional twitch of her mouth the only movement she made.

Finally, I saw her eyelids flutter open, She began to caress my cheeks, staring at me in disbelief. I could see her questions, maybe even doubts, but I could also see something different in her. My sister loved me, was falling in love with me. Sylvia was able to accept the fact that we had crossed the barrier of what was acceptable in our society — and she didn’t care any more than I did.

And to that she pulled me to her, and we kissed for ages. My twin sister was untiring, as though she’d waited for this moment all her life.

***

Now Sylvia and I are twenty-three years old, fresh out of college, and still very much in love with each other. We have decided to make my childhood wish come true. We’ve already ordered the cake, the champagne, the limousine and the honeymoon suite. Sylvia looks absolutely amazing in her wedding gown.

As in my impossible dream, I wear an exact replica of her dress. I wanted us to look exactly the same — even our hairdos are identical. In just over an hour, we will be joined together as twin brides, wife and wife. I am lucky enough to have a sister who’s crazy enough to take me as her one and only.

We have no guests… this wedding is only for Sylvia and me. It’s our way of declaring our love for each other, making it clear that no one — and I mean no one — will ever come between us.

The End

1

Error happened.

by Maverick

There we were, my mother and I, enjoying a little chat. Only she was dressed in a snug blouse and sexy undies, while all I had on was a tiny silk crop top, a garter belt and stockings. The moment seemed ripe for seduction, and I was more than ready to make my move.

“You look tense, Mom,” I said. “Lie down on my bed. I’ll give you a massage.”

“You’re the one who made me tense,” she replied.

“Then let me make it up to you by helping you relax,” I said, pointing to the bed. “You won’t be sorry. My hands are instruments of pleasure.”

“Um… okay,” she tentatively replied.

“Wait! Take off that blouse. It’ll be easier to massage you without it.”

“Put it on, take it off,” she mock-complained, but she did as I asked.

“Now lie face down on the bed,” I ordered, already deciding that her sensual massage would begin with my hands and end with my mouth.

“Yes, ma’am,” she said matter-of-factly, climbing onto the bed and lying down on her tummy.

Kneeling at the foot of the bed, I took Mom’s stocking-clad right foot in my hands. The moment my thumbs put pressure on her arch, she gave a soft moan.

Very few people understand what a foot massage can do.

It mellows the receiver.

It relaxes her.

It slowly, gradually turns her on.

I kneaded the entire sole of her foot, taking my time with it. Each tiny portion of a sole has a nerve ending that connects to some organ in the body, so each part matters. By the time I finished, every organ in my mother’s body was subtly different, less constricted, more alive.

I did her ankle, then rubbed each toe individually. Now I wanted to suck on her toes, well aware of how much that can excite a sensual woman.

Deciding to take the risk, I said, “Mom, I’m gonna do something a little unorthodox… and I need you not to freak out on me. All right?”

“Um, okay,” she hesitantly said.

“Roll over on your back,” I said.

She obeyed, looking somewhat dazed as she did so. I noticed her nipples were still stiff, and when I glanced between her legs I noticed a large damp spot on her thong.

I had to stop myself from grinning — the truly sensual phase of the massage had yet to begin, and Mom was already turned on.

As she watched from her pillow, I separated her pinkie toe from its neighbor and sucked it into my mouth.

“Ohhhh, what are you doing?” Mom asked, though she didn’t attempt to take her foot away.

“I’m giving you the most intimate, loving and relaxing massage that I can,” I replied, removing her toe from my mouth for a moment. “Now lie back and enjoy.”

“But you’re my daughter,” she said.

“I’m not going down on you, Mom,” I said, “I’m just giving you a foot massage.”

“Um, okay,” she said, as she leaned back but added, “I’m still not sure about this…”

“Just relax,” I said, as I took her second toe in my mouth while I simultaneously massaged her ankle and calf, noticing she hadn’t scolded me for referring to oral sex.

“That does feel nice,” Mom sighed.

“Don’t think… just be in the moment,” I said, moving to her middle toe.

“Fair enough.” Her eyes closed and her legs spread far enough apart that I could see the contour of Mom’s labia through the sheer wet thong.

God, I wanted to just bury my face between her legs and go to town… but they say patience is a virtue, and I was going to give that theory all the time needed to prove itself true.

I sucked the remaining two toes before moving to the other foot and starting over.

Mom moaned, then whispered, “That feels so good, Hannah!”

Once I’d lavished an equal amount of attention on all ten toes, I began to slowly make my way up Mom’s leg with tender kisses and caresses. I figured she might protest, but she didn’t.

So I kept nuzzling upward to her knee, to her thigh, Mom’s breathing getting heavier as I went.

This was turning her on, and not in a small way.

Just as I seemed to be on the verge of kissing her pussy — and by this time, I hoped that she was ready for me to do just that — I switched to the ankle of the other leg and repeated my slow, methodical teasing until I was back between Mom’s thighs.

I moved my hands to her thong and urged, “Lift up, Mom. These undies are really damp.”

Even as she obeyed, raising her hips, she weakly protested, “Sweetheart, we shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Doing what, Mom?” I innocently asked as I pulled her thong down and off, resisting the impulse to sniff it before casting it to one side. Her body was already surrendering to me, her mind lagging behind just a bit.

“This,” was all she could say, waving her hands vaguely.

“Mom, it’s obvious that you’re in need. I want to help.”

Before she could respond, I brought my hand to her wet pussy, her lips literally glistening with expectation, and slid two fingers inside.

“Oooooh, Hannah!” she cried — yet once again, she didn’t move away.

“Mom, your pussy is so warm, so wet,” I said. “Let me help you out. I want to do this.”

I pumped my fingers in and out of her, hoping that this pleasure assault would override her common sense and propriety, that she’d let me take her completely

“Oh, God… Hannah… th-this is… oh, fuck… please, sweetheart, we mustn’t… Ohhhh, oh, no.” I think Mom was trying to tell me to stop, but was unable to get much more than a word or two out at a time. Soon she was moaning instead of speaking.

Sensing that she was already very close to an orgasm, and deciding it was now or never, I buried my mouth in her pussy and got to licking.

“Hannah! Oh, Hannah, no!” she moaned as my tongue made contact — although once again, she didn’t move a muscle to push me away.

In fact, Mom shocked me this time… she actually raised her hips, grabbed the back of my head and held me to her!

“Oh, baby girl, yes!” she cried. “D-don’t stop!”

Her scent was strong… her pussy juicy and delicious. Mom’s cunt had to have been the sweetest I’d ever sampled, but it was also unlike any other… except mine, at least. Like mother, like daughter.

She was dripping wet, the flavor of her tart and tangy like some new, perfect fruit — forbidden fruit.

I didn’t want her to come too quickly, This momentous experience was meant to last as long as possible, so I withdrew my very wet fingers from Mom’s vagina and focused on pleasuring her with my tongue.

“Oh God,” she moaned, letting go of my head. “I can’t believe you’re doing this to your own mommy.”

Hearing her say mommy turned me on — so sexy under the circumstances, adding to the rapture I felt as I dove headlong into the delights of incest. I purred back between licks, “You taste good, Mommy.”

“Your father didn’t think so.”

“Let’s not talk about him,” I suggested, “he’s history.” I put extra energy into licking my mother, hoping to wash the painful memory of that horrible man out of her system completely.

“You’re right, honey,” she whispered. “To hell with him.”

I slid two fingers back inside Mom’s cunt, searching for her g-spot, guessing she’d never come that way before. “Now let me show you what real pleasure is,” I purred, my fingers finding the place I wanted.

“You already have!” Her voice went up in pitch as I tapped her g-spot, while simultaneously flicking the tip of my tongue rapidly across her clit. I called this my double-go move, intended to make a lover go off like a geyser.

Sure enough, her legs stiffened and she screamed, “Oh God, I’m c-coming, Hannah! Ohhhhhh!”

She didn’t have to tell me that, because Mom was a squirter. She splashed my face with a full flood of honeyed sweetness as I feasted on her cunt.

“Motherfucker!” she screamed, and I promised myself there and then that I would indeed become a mother fucker, already thinking about breaking out my strap-on for our next round.

Mom’s ecstasy rose to an unimaginable peak, and I was confronted with a choice: keep going, push her to another orgasm, or give her a break, let my mother rest before taking her again? After a moment’s thought, II elected to go with the latter, pulling away.

I gazed at my mother in loving admiration. She looked so sweet and sexy with her eyes closed, her mouth slack and her cheeks radiating the rosy afterglow of euphoria.

I got up from the bed, went to the closet and pulled out a medium-sized box that included a few sex toys: two vibrators, a strap-on, anal beads, and a double ended dildo.

“Goodness, that was amazing,” Mom said, lifting herself up a bit.

“Agreed,” I smiled.

“Did you find my g-spot? I always thought that was a myth.”

“As far as I can tell, only a woman can locate it.” I set the box on the bed.

“What’s in the box?” she asked. Mom seemed to be merely curious and not, I was glad to see, showing any remorse for the incestuous act we’d just committed.

I pulled out the black eight-inch vibe and a smaller pink six-incher, displayed them to her and asked in a posh voice, “Which of these would you prefer, madam?”

“Goodness me!” she gasped. “Where did you get those?”

“Amazon,” I replied.

She laughed. “Less embarrassing than going into an adult store, I suppose.”

“How many vibrators do you have?” I asked.

“Two fewer than you have in your hands.”

“Oh, Mother,” I sighed. “It’s 2018. With the advancements made in the field of sex toys, men are utterly useless in the bedroom.”

“They were before then, too,” she jokingly said.

“I’ll take your word for it,” I said. “Do you have any toys at all?” She shook her head. “None?”

“Just these fingers,” she admitted, waving a hand as she sat up to peer into the toy box. “You have a strap-on?”

“Of course. Amanda has five.”

“Five?”

“Different sizes, shapes and levels of intensity.” I held up the two vibrators. “Which one shall I use on you?”

“We can’t,” she quickly said, but I wasn’t fooled.

“Which one?” I repeated, holding out the six-inch with one hand, then the eight-inch with the other, then the first one again.

“Are you going to let this go?” she asked, even though she was already giving in to me.

“Only after you come again,” I said. “I’m going to do for you what Dad couldn’t.”

“They’re both bigger than he is,” she said with a smile.

“Figures.”

Mom pointed into the box. “How about that one?”

“The strap-on?” I asked. Damn, she’d just shocked me again!

“Sweet girl, you’ve gotten me so fucking hot and bothered.” She gave me a big grin.

“Mother, language,” I said, pretending to be aghast.

“Hannah, darling, will you please put that prick on and do me with it?” she said, with an expression as sweet and innocent as Julia Roberts in Notting Hill.

I sternly asked, “Mother dearest, are you trying to turn your sweet innocent daughter into a mother fucker?” Actually, I’d already fucked a couple of moms, but sex with my own mother was a whole new level of kinky achievement.

Her eyes sparkled at me wickedly, “Yes, my dear sweet Hannah, I want you to repent of your innocent ways and pound your wicked mommy like a filthy slut. Can your delicate sensibilities handle that, dear?”

“Actually, you had me convinced when you pointed at this strap-on,” I chuckled as I fastened the harness around me, my pussy already throbbing with anticipation.

“You’re so fucking sexy in my lingerie… especially while wearing that cock,” Mom said, looking at me with a lust I often saw in my lovers, but had never expected to find at home.

“And you look so hot in the afterglow of your first orgasm of the day,” I countered.

Mom admitted, “I’m not lying or exaggerating when I tell you… that was the most intense sexual pleasure of my entire life, you sweet girl.”

“Happy I could oblige,” I smiled, joining her back in the bed. “And now for orgasm number… two.” I held up two fingers.

She shook her head. “Oh, no, sweetheart, I can’t have multiple orgasms.”

“Okay, that’s just flat-out wrong,” I said, guiding Mom onto her knees. I loved the power of fucking doggy style. I loved watching my cock slide in and out of a woman, I loved watching a body rock back against mine, I loved being in control and taking a partner however I liked. “You just haven’t met the right girl. Or maybe you have, but just had to wait for her to grow up.” I moved behind her.

“I’ve tried myself,” she admitted. “Countless times.”

“Well, I’m determined to break that losing streak,” I said, as I penetrated her already very wet pussy, “and if I say so myself, I’m damn good at this.”

“Oh, yes,” she moaned as my cock filled her.

Sometimes I start slow when fucking a lover, other times I fuck hard and fast. This time would definitely be hard and fast. But first, I grabbed Mom’s hips and held her tightly against me, my prick buried deep inside her. “Tell me what you want, Mommy.”

“Oh God, Hannah, I want you to fuck me as wild as you can,” she cried. “Please!”

I gave her five quick hard thrusts before I withdrew, all but the tip. I asked, as a high priest might inquire of a supplicant, “Margaret Baxter, do you want to be your daughter Hannah’s mommy-slut?” God, I felt so hot and wicked.

“Yes, Hannah,” Mom moaned, struggling to impale herself on my cock, but I held her hips firmly in place. “I… I, Margaret Baxter, very much want to be your mommy-slut.”

Five more deep, hard thrusts — and she made a face when I stopped again. “Stop teasing, Hannah. Just fuck the ass off me!”

“Oh? You want anal? I can do that!” I withdrew all the way, even though I knew that wasn’t what she meant..

“No, no — in my cunt, baby,” Mom pleaded, looking back at me with hungry eyes. “Please fuck me, make me yours, Hannah. I want to be your lover!”

I loved the idea of that, the idea of what we had being much more than just this evening.

I slid back into her and began pounding her hard, just like she’d asked me to. “I’m going to fuck you all the time, my sweet mommy-pet.”

“Yes, Hannah, yes. I need someone to do that for me.”

The difference was that, unlike my asshole father, I would treat my mother like a princess — a submissive princess who loved to be taken by her daughter, but still a princess. And I would be the queen.

Then there was just fucking and moaning. I fucked her hard as I could, fast as I could. Her moans and heavy breathing were sweet music to my ears.

I never wanted to make someone come as much as I did her at the moment. Yet, even though she sounded close to release, she wasn’t coming.

Then an idea popped into my head. I pulled out and ordered, “On your stomach, Mom.”

She obeyed, but shook her head. “It’s okay, honey. I love how this feels, but I’m not going to come.”

“You are going to come, trust me,” I insisted, and delved into the nightstand drawer for my magic wand, which I hoped would live up to its name. It always had for me, so I was feeling optimistic.

I plugged the wand into the wall and returned to kneel between Mom’s legs. “Raise your hips just a little,” I said. She did, and I placed the toy underneath where she lay, positioning it in just the right way to stimulate her clitoris.

“Ohhhhhh my,” she moaned, as the vibrations hit her.

I got behind Mom, angled the strap-on cock into position, arched my back and entered her again.

The position was slightly awkward, but I was back inside, resting my weight on her, which forced the wand to do its magic.

“My God… my God!” her voice rising from a moan to a wail as I got down to fucking my mother.

I bucked my hips forward in a series of savage thrusts, filling her again and again, making the entire bed move and the headboard bump rhythmically against the wall.

“Oh yes,” Mom panted. “F-fuck me, Hannah. God, I love this!”

Listening to her beg for more only made me hotter. I suspected that she was just as turned on by the kinky incestuous aspect of our lovemaking just as much as I was. I decided to play with the idea.

“You like your daughter fucking you, Mommy?” I asked, as I filled her box.

“Oh, yes… Mommy loves… loves being fucked by her… s-sexy daughter,” she gasped.

“Then come for your little girl,” I said. “Come for me, and you’ll be my mommy-pet forever!”

“Harder, more,” Mom begged, clearly inches away from the orgasm she hadn’t thought was possible. Now she was almost clawing her way toward it.

“Soon, I’ll be fucking you in the kitchen. I’ll be bending you over the sink and doing you from behind. I’ll have you right on the dining table.”

“Oh God, Hannah,” she moaned, her eyes wide in astonishment, “I’m — I’m getting close.”

“I’ll have you eating my pussy for breakfast,” I continued. That was an idea I found immensely appealing, as I almost always woke up horny.

“I’ll do anything for you, Hannah,” she moaned, humping her ass up and down with a strength I didn’t know she had.

“Anything at all? Then be a good girl and come for me,” I said, as I sucked on my thumb, preparing for the big finish. Placing the tip of it against her anus, I began to push.

It wasn’t easy to penetrate Mom’s rectum, the way she was thrashing around, but with a little work, I got in, and she screamed, “Ohhhhhh fuck!”

“Come for me, Mom!” I growled, my thumb all the way up her asshole.

“Yesssssss!” she screamed, loud enough to wake the dead as a second climax ripped through her.

She collapsed on the bed and I, wanting more of her sweet nectar, flipped Mom onto her back and buried my face in her flooding cunt, amazed at the size of the damp spot that was already there on the sheets.

I licked her for a minute or so before I decided it was time to deal with my own throbbing pussy, as well as initiate Mom into the fine art of cunnilingus.

I got up, removed my strap-on and admired my beautiful mother. She looked so sexy in the afterglow of her ecstasy. Her face was all blotchy with color, her mouth slack as she gasped, her hair was a mess and her body was covered in sweat. She was beautiful!

She turned her head to look at me and said, “I can’t believe I just had two orgasms.”

“I don’t take no for an answer,” I shrugged.

“Two orgasms from my daughter,” she added.

“I was just comforting you,” I added, as I moved back to her bed. “Still sad?”

“No, I’m in love. Can I try getting you off?” she asked, which was so cute to hear, as I’d already decided that was exactly what she was doing next.

“I was just thinking the same thing,” as I knee-walked up the bed and straddled Mom’s face.

“Your pussy is all wet,” she noticed.

“Fucking and licking my darling mother got me pretty hot,” I admitted, “You’d better get used to it like this,” as I lowered my wet cunt to her open mouth.

I can’t believe I’m about to lick my baby girl’s pussy,” she said, just before she did.

“Oh, trust me, you’re going to be going down on me so often that you’ll count it as part of your diet,” I said. I could have a dozen orgasms on a good day, easily… although only three or four was my norm. “No one has ever been able to eat my peach just once.”

“Mmmmm,” she crooned, quite muffled. “You taste so good.”

“So I’ve been told,” I replied. “And tonight, I learned I taste a lot like you.”

She moved her hands to my nylon-clad legs and began to massage them as she licked.

Although I like a few positions such as legs spread and lying down, legs spread and sitting down, and a sideways sixty-nine, my favorite was being on top.

I was in control.

I could enjoy a nice, slow licking.

Or grind one out on her face.

Although I wanted to enjoy a leisurely licking, my pussy was too excited at the moment.

After two or three minutes of her gentle oral, I ordered, “Now get your daughter off, my Mommy-pet.”

She began licking faster… and I began to press my cunt into her mouth, my need to climax overriding everything else.

And then I was coming, shrieking my rapture to the skies as I flooded my mother’s face, demonstrating my own squirting abilities.

She eagerly drank down every drop of my honey. I figured that she’d become just as hooked on my pussy as my other lovers, but by that time I was just as addicted to hers.

Not wanting this to end, I waited until my orgasm had only just begun to subside before I climbed off her.

I asked, looking down at her very wet and messy face, “Want to see if three times is a charm?”

She gave me a look that I’d have to call befuddled. “Um, what?”

“One more orgasm.” I moved between her legs with my own spread wide until our pussies were kissing. Her eyes widened, and I said, “This is called tribbing.”

“Wh-what is?” she asked, accompanied by a soft whimper.

“This is. Pussy to pussy rubbing,” I answered. I grabbed one of her feet and began sucking on her toes again as I began to work my cunt against hers.

“Oh,” my mother moaned, suddenly understanding what I meant. She began to grind back, then grabbed one of my nylon-clad feet and stuffed several of my toes into her mouth.

For a few minutes, we rubbed our pussies together in a frenzied lesbian fuck.

There was moaning.

There was writhing.

There was sweat. It was beautiful.

Suddenly, my mother stopped moving. “I want to taste you again,” she said. “Can we sixty-nine?”

I grinned. “How can I say no to that?”

We repositioned ourselves side-by-side, each burying her mouth between the other’s thighs.

Then we licked each other.

And then we fingered each other.

And then I found her g-spot.

Then she found mine.

And then we both came, baptizing each other’s faces with what felt like gallons of sweet, delicious nectar.

We kissed, for many long minutes… kissed like lovers. Because that’s what we had become.

Finally my beautiful mother backed away before giving me one more gentle kiss and gazing tenderly into my eyes. “My darling child, I can’t believe we just did that.”

“You needed comforting, Mom,” I replied, gently caressing her tits.

“But now you’ll need therapy,” she said, then giggled.

I laughed, then said, “No, now I have my own live-in human alarm clock and life is good.”

“You want me to wake you up every morning by licking that yummy cunt of yours?”

“Breakfast in bed,” I joked.

Mom grinned. “They do say it’s the most important meal of the day.” She moved back between my legs and said, “I think I still owe you one more orgasm.”

I watched as she buried her face between my legs and began to lick.

I wrapped my nylon-clad legs around her, wondering what tomorrow would bring as I moaned, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Mommy.”

Mom said between licks, “This is way better than overpriced roses… smells nicer, too.”

“And it won’t wilt in a few days,” I retorted, before adding, “you’ll be enjoying this bouquet for years to come.”

“And now it’s time to get you to come,” she said, burying her mouth in my wetness, going down on me like the eager lesbian I’d just taught her to be.

The End

by Maverick

Tracked down by Sapphmore, reworked by JetBoy for Juicy Secrets

{ This story was originally posted at Sex4Stories in February 2018 }

Note from JetBoy: I might as well tell you up front: this is another two-part story where all the actual sex takes place in the second half. It’s one hell of a second half, though — so don’t pass the first chapter up. As a reward for your patience, I’ll post Part Two fairly soon. Many thanks to Sapphmore, our Site Story Detective, for finding this one!

***

Watching my mom fall deep into despair after her divorce was the most awful thing I’d ever seen. I wished with all my heart that I knew what to do to help her find happiness again.

Mom was a sweet woman who deserved far better. She’d been there for me my entire life. She’d been strict with me when I needed it, but never with anger. She convinced me I was special.

When I’d been five and thrown a mammoth tantrum over something incredibly important that I don’t even remember anymore, she’d carried me up to my room, still crying and struggling and calling her names, and explained through my hysteria she was declaring a time out. I was to remain in my room until I had spent two continuous hours with no loud noises. Any fresh outbursts and I would start over. She then quietly locked me in and went back downstairs while I continued caterwauling.

When I finally calmed down and had completed one hour of silence, she brought me a brownie, saying, “Well done, sweetheart, carry on.” When I’d completed the whole two hours, she came in, gave me a big hug and kisses all over my face, tickled me until I giggled, and took me out for ice cream! That was my very last tantrum.

In my freshman year of high school, when she’d grounded me for toilet papering the house of a girl who’d been bullying me, our evenings were spent together watching TV or playing Scrabble until she released me from ‘the joint’ a week early for good behavior, and started taking me to Karate class. A couple months later my bully ambushed me again, but ended up with good cause to apologize.

I could tell you dozens of stories about times Mom did everything she could to resolve situations that had caused me to act out in the first place. Even though I wasn’t always the sweet angel she said I was, she’d never struck me or done anything to me out of anger. Not once in eighteen years!

When I was sad, she offered me her shoulder and her ear and long cuddles. When I was angry, she asked me sympathetic questions and listened for as long as I needed and never offered suggestions until I’d talked myself out and asked for them. When I was good, she loved me and made me feel like the most wonderful girl in the world.

My father, the asshole that he was, had left Mom on December first for a woman only four years older than me… four fucking years!

It completely crushed Mom. Seeing her like that completely crushed me.

Mom was thirty-four and had never had a job, not marrying my father at eighteen. For the first several years of her marriage she’d insisted on going for a degree in English and had obtained her Bachelor’s diploma, but had never done anything with it. Instead, she’d always been a stay-at-home mom for me.

Dad made lots of money as a stockbroker, and insisted that his wife shouldn’t work. So she stayed home in a comfortable house, like a stereotypical housewife.

After the divorce, Mom had no idea what to do with herself. Thanks to his money and connections, Dad had achieved an amazingly quick separation: he’d wanted to retire and start traveling with his cradle-robbed sexpot. He’d easily gotten the divorce because Mom was too disheartened to put up much of a fight, and anyway, why fight to keep a man who no longer loved you?

At least he didn’t emerge from the split completely unscathed. Thanks to a perceptive judge, we got a very generous ruling on how much support Dad would have to provide. So money wouldn’t be a problem for Mom, but she felt cast adrift: what would she do with herself?

I was in my senior year of high school and would be leaving for college in less than a year. I knew that empty nest syndrome was going to hit her really hard. Dad and I had always been her entire life, and that heartless bastard had abandoned us both, but I didn’t miss him a bit. Hell, I was glad he was gone. He’d dumped Mom during the holiday season, which only made him a bigger dick than I’d already thought he was.

He was one of the reasons I was a lesbian.

Oh sure, sexual attraction was the main one, but my hatred for the way my dad had treated Mom my entire life had generalized itself into a very early dislike for men, thus boys, and at eighteen I was definitely one hundred percent gay. He didn’t make me into a lesbian, but he sure made it easier for me to accept that any great love in my life wouldn’t be packing a dick. Not a flesh-and-blood one, anyhow.

Mom didn’t know I was queer. I was perceived by her and by most people who knew me as a sweet, shy, nerdy young woman. I was far from that, but didn’t mind letting most people think I was. Shy around boys vs couldn’t care less about boys didn’t look so different from the outside. Either way I wasn’t dating any, or even flirting.

Few, besides my best friend and partner in crime Amanda, a still closeted athlete Brittany (I knew where her closet was, and visited her there regularly), my neighbor Mrs. Benson, my teacher Mrs. Walker, and a few other trusted souls had any clue that I was a lesbian.

I hadn’t originally planned on seducing Mom, but one thing led to another and… well, here’s the story of my craziest, most life-altering Valentine’s Day ever.

I came home from school, and although she smiled resolutely as she greeted me, it was obvious Mom had been crying… and it broke my heart all over again.

As always, I asked the stupid question, “Are you okay, Mom?”

“I’m fine, honey,” she answered like she always did, wiping away some streaks of evidence to the contrary, attempting to be casual about it. Today was Valentine’s Day, her first since Dad had left two months ago. She was obviously feeling especially sad about being alone on the Day of Love, while her ex-husband was drinking Mai Tais on the beaches of Hawaii with his new slut.

She was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee, so I sat across the corner from her and looked into her eyes gently. “Mom, you know you can talk to me,” I said, letting her know I loved her and wasn’t buying any bull crap about her feeling fine. “I’m eighteen. I’m an adult. And he left me, too.”

This seemed to make Mom even sadder.

“I know, honey,” she nodded. “It’s just that… I don’t want to burden you with my troubles.”

“Mom, your troubles are my troubles, too,” I said, taking her hands in mine. “After all the things you’ve done for me my whole life, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“It’s just… I don’t know, I’m still in denial mode,” Mom said.

I smiled, “I’ve moved on to angry mode.”

“I think I’m in a lot of modes,” she laughed. “Denial, anger, frustration…”

“Frustration?” I asked.

“Oh, nothing,” she said, quickly pulling her hands away and moving to the kitchen counter. I followed, of course.

“You can’t confide something you feel and then not explain,” I said.

“It’s just… personal, honey,” she said, avoiding eye contact.

“Personal, shmersonal! Mom, you can tell me anything,” I offered.

“It’s just…” she began and paused.

“It’s just what?” I asked.

“I feel like such a failure,” she admitted, although I could tell that wasn’t what she really meant.

I pulled Mom into a hug and said, “Mom, you’re not a failure. Dad is. He’s a failure as a husband, as a father and as a man.”

“Oh, honey,” Mom said, bursting into tears again.

“You deserve better than Dad,” I said. “He treated you like a slave.”

“I don’t know what I did wrong,” she wailed through her tears.

“All you did was love your family and get older,” I told her. “You’re better off without him. We are better off without him. Dad is an asshole!”

“Hannah!” Mom gasped.

“Mom, he is, and he always has been!”

“Hannah, please don’t speak about….”

I interrupted, now not only angry at him, but at my mom for trying to defend him, “Mom, be thankful he’s gone! He was a terrible insensitive husband and a useless father. It’s only thanks to you he was never a child-beater, too!”

“It was never that black and white,” she protested.

“Mom, enough!” I shouted, slamming my palm onto the counter, a technique my father had often used to get our undivided attention.

She looked at me in shock as I took her hand, leading her to the couch.

“Mom, stop defending him,” I said, not holding back my anger. “He’s an unfaithful, insensitive, arrogant prick of a man and we both deserve better,” I ranted so vehemently I could feel my face turning red.

“But he’s your father,” Mom pointed out.

“He’s my sperm donor,” I said. “No more, no less. Well, actually far less. Any damn fool can ejaculate into a woman’s cunt.”

“Hannah, language,” Mom scolded. Swearing is not something I usually do in front of my mother, or she in front of me.

“Sorry, Mom,” I softly said, putting a hand on her nylon-clad leg. “I just hate how he still makes you feel worthless. You’re a special woman, and you deserve to be treated like a goddess.”

“Oh, Hannah,” she smiled, suddenly close to shedding tears of a different kind. “I needed to hear that.”

“Mom, you’re a beautiful woman inside and out,” I continued, a sweet idea popping into my head. Maybe I could help her out of this funk!

“Thank you, honey,” she said, enjoying the compliments, while my hand slithered at a snail’s pace up her thigh.

“Where do you get these nylons? They’re super soft,” I said, knowing they were real silk and not some cheap brand.

“Some girls spend their money on shoes, I spend mine on stockings,” she replied, seemingly okay with me  caressing her legs.

“Good choice,” I approved. “They’re as soft as silk and really make those lovely legs of yours stand out.”

“Thank you, honey,” she smiled again. “Your father never seemed to notice.”

“His loss,” I said, moving my hand ever so slightly under her dress to discover she was actually wearing stockings and a garter. “Mom!” I asked, surprised. “This is some sexy stuff! Who are you wearing it for?”

“Myself,” she answered with a shy smile, allowing me to lift up her dress enough to admire her black lace garter.

I took her hands, pulled her up off the sofa and dropped to my knees.

Did part of me want to bury my face in my mother’s pussy?

God, yes. I wanted it badly and I knew she needed it badly, but a slow seduction was much better for my long-term goal.

Mom looked down at me, surprised. “Hannah, what are you doing?”

“Just taking a look at this lovely garter,” I said, which was partly true. I was also trying to see if Mom was shaved.

She was!

“Oh, I bought it online. I buy all my nylons and lingerie that way,” she said, standing there like a sexy mannequin as I traced my hand over the garter belt, resisting the temptation to touch her cute black panties… which looked more like a thong, actually.

“Are you wearing a thong. Mom?”

“Thongs are all I own,” she admitted.

“Mom, you are a complete enigma,” I said, as I took the risk and flicked my hands around to her ass to grab the thong and tug it out then snap it back into her ass.

“Hey!” she exclaimed, moving away slightly.

“Sorry,” I apologized again. “It’s just something we do in the change room to girls who wear thongs.”

“Really?”

“Yep,” I nodded. “Guys whip towels at each other’s asses, and we tug thongs.”

“Why?” she asked.

“I have no idea,” I answered.

“Weird,” she said, although she didn’t move any further away from me.

“Do you have any more of these sheer nylons?” I asked, an idea of how to seduce my mother slowly blossoming in my head.

“Quite a few,” she laughed. “It’s my shopping addiction.”

“Can I try on a pair?” I asked, standing up. “All I wear are these cheap ones.”

“Sure,” she said with a nod.

I took her hand. “Let’s go try some now.”

“Now?” she asked.

“I can’t think of a better way to cheer a girl up than by trying on clothes,” I said.

“Well, okay,” she said, following me, though probably trying to process how me trying clothes were going to cheer her up.

Just wait, Mommy dearest. If I have my way, you’ll be cheered up and then some.

I said, “Nothing puts me in a better mood than shopping, and shopping in my mom’s closet seems like the ultimate thrill.”

“What do I get out of this?” she asked playfully, catching the mood.

“Oh, I have some fashionable stuff you can try on,” I said, deciding I was going to play Barbie with my mom.

“Hey!” she objected as she realized I was being critical of her fashion choices.

“You dress like a housewife,” I pointed out.

“I am a housewife,” she countered. “Or was, anyway.”

“Exactly,” I nodded. “But as I’m learning this very afternoon, looks can be deceiving.”

“How so?” she asked, as she went to her dresser drawer and pulled out a few pairs of stockings, still in the package.

“Well, underneath your mother-goes-to-market clothes, you’re wearing some very hot lingerie,” I pointed out.

“I like wearing lace bras, garters and stockings underneath,” she said. “They make me feel sexy.”

“They make you look sexy, too, I imagine,” I complimented, “let’s see.” I reached around and unzipped her dress.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I want to see your underwear,” I said. “Did you say lace bra?”

“But I’m your mother,” she protested.

“We’re both adults, Mom,” I reminded her. “I see girls completely naked almost every day.” I withheld the fact that we were naked so they could lick me, and vice versa.

“I guess,” she responded tentatively.

When she didn’t move away, I slipped the dress off her shoulders and down her torso to her hips. Stepping a foot back for a better view, I unveiled her sexy lingerie, and gasped — a little overdramatically, I suppose, “Holy shit, Mom! You have an amazing body!”

“Hannah!” she gasped, although clearly appreciating the compliment.

“Seriously,” I continued, knowing flattery worked wonders. That was doubly true for insecure women, at least from my experience. “You’ve got a better body than most high school girls.”

“You’re being silly,” she said, but didn’t move away as I finally dropped her dress to the floor. Taking a chance, I quickly unclasped her bra.

“My God, sweetie, what are you doing?” she said, surprised by my boldness.

Ignoring her protests, I tossed Mom’s bra onto the floor and quickly cupped her big, firm breasts. As she stood there shocked, I told her, “I got your eyes and your hair, but not these.”

“Hannah, I…” she began, but I interrupted her.

“Seriously, your breasts are so full and lovely, and mine are so small,” I pouted, then jerked my sweater off. “See?”

“You’re not wearing a bra,” she said, surprised.

Truth was, I’d left it at Amanda’s after a quickie fuck after school, but that information could remain hidden a little while longer as I continued my slow seduction. I played the insecurity card, cupping my 34B breasts. “I don’t need any bra for these.”

“Honey, trust me, yours are the perfect size,” she said.

“How so?” I asked, even though I wasn’t really insecure about my breasts. Truth was, they were almost the perfect size: not too big, not too small; as Goldilocks would say, just right.

She cupped her own tits and said, growing more comfortable about topless state, “These mamas are back-breakers.”

“I can imagine,” I nodded, knowing that was true for Elle, a big-breasted chubby but lively girl who had first introduced me to the world of cunnilingus at summer camp.

“You have an amazing body, too,” she said.

“Thanks,” I smiled, enjoying the compliment. After a pause I asked, as I walked to the bed where the packages all were, “So can I try on a pair of these fancy nylons?”

“Go ahead, honey,” she offered.

I looked at the wide array of packages. “You like variety.”

“I do,” she nodded, as I gazed at the selection of colors that included black, beige, mocha, white, tan, navy and red. “I treat my hosiery like I do my jewelry — as an accessory to enhance the entire package.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” I said, as I removed my skirt to reveal I also wasn’t wearing panties, just a pair of thigh-highs.

“You’re deceiving, too,” she said with a smirk.

“Like mother, like daughter,” I said, sliding one stocking down my leg and off.

“Do you usually go without panties?” she asked — not accusing, just curious.

“Sometimes,” I shrugged. “You?”

“Just thongs,” she answered.

“You should try going commando; it’s quite liberating,” I said. “In the winter you can feel Jack Frost nipping at your… you know.” I removed the other stocking.

“Since when did you start wearing thigh-highs?” Mom asked.

“Blame Amanda,” I answered, who was my best friend and the one I messed around with the most. She said she liked quick access to my pussy when she wanted a quick snack, and that could be just about anywhere —  in the cafeteria bathroom, in the car, at her house or mine, and once in an empty movie theater. Amanda said I had the sweetest pussy she’d ever tasted, and that her second home was between my legs.

“Blame her how?” Mom asked, as I selected the mocha pair, which was my favorite color, really enhancing my pale legs.

“She convinced me they were sexier and more comfortable than pantyhose,” I answered.

“I can’t argue with that,” Mom nodded, before adding, as I rolled up the first stocking in my hands, “but there is nothing sexier than stockings with a garter belt.”

As I began putting the first stocking on my foot, I smiled, taking in the sexy sight of my mother in a thong, garter and stockings, and nothing else. “You’re certainly proof of that statement.”

“Oh, thanks,” Mom said, blushing slightly.

“God, these feel so sexy,” I said, in awe of how much softer they were than my usual nylons.

“They’re the only kind I wear now,” she replied.

As I pulled the stocking up my leg, I said, “Damn, I’m going to need a garter belt for these, huh?”

“Hold on.” She went over to her top dresser drawer, shuffled through it for a second, then returned with a red one. “This will contrast nicely with those mocha stockings. They really set each other off.”

“You’re a lingerie guru,” I joked as I took the garter, something I’d never worn before.

I strapped it around my waist, then decided to take things a little further in the seduction of my mother. “Can you help me with this, Mom?” I asked, standing up.

“Sure, honey,” she said, getting down on her knees in front of me. Her face was now less than a foot away from my pussy. Can she smell how turned on I am? I wondered.

Mom attached the first clasp to the stocking as she explained, “Always take your time fastening these.”

“Okay,” I said. My heart throbbed at her touch, the warmth of her breath caressing my thigh. I did notice that Mom stole a glance at my pussy as she finished the front clasp.

She moved around back and fastened the clasp behind. Then Mom surprised me. Reaching out for the other stocking, she told me, “Sit on the edge of the bed and lift your foot.”

I wanted to say something flirtatious. Instead, like the little girl I no longer was, I did exactly as she said, leaning back on both elbows as I offered Mom my bare foot. Taking hold of it, Mom carefully slipped the sheer stocking on, then rolled it up my leg. “Now stand back up.”

I rose, then she did the other front clasp. This time, my mother definitely took a long, lingering look at my wet pussy. A wave of sexual heat surged through me as I got the crazy notion that my seduction might be working.

Mom moved around back once more, did that last clasp, then asked me, “Care to try on something kinda sexy?”

“You always said I should never say ‘kinda’,” I teased. My mother, with her English degree, had long taken serious issue with words like “kinda,” “sorta,” and “gotta.”

“Brat,” she playfully scolded me, going back to her dresser for another silken treasure.

“Just wanted you to know that I was listening all those years you corrected my speech, teach,” I said.

She returned with a red crop top and said, “Try this on.”

I grinned as I took it and, being very careful not to seem at all opposed to the idea, said, “Really? Now I feel like we’re playing Naughty Barbie.”

Mom laughed as I slipped into the silk top, which didn’t leave much to the imagination. “This is getting a little out there; I admit that.”

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours, eh? Okay, then, I’m dressing you next,” I replied, already knowing exactly what I was going to put on her.

Out of nowhere, Mom suddenly asked me, “By the way, what’s the name of Barbie’s mom?”

I thought about it, then shrugged. “No idea… you should Google it.” Funny thing — all those years of playing with Barbie dolls, and I couldn’t answer that simple question.

“You look amazing in that,” Mom said.

I thought about asking her, ‘Good enough to eat?’ but managed to restrain myself. Instead, I turned to the mirror and said, “Wow, I do look hot.” I struck a few poses, “It really showcases my assets.”

“It sure does,” she said, yet again peeking at my pussy, which was still in full view and very well hydrated.

Not for the first time, I wondered if Mom had ever experimented with women. Deciding it was time to reveal my sexual bias, I added, “Amanda will love me in this.”

“What?” she asked.

I repeated, “I’m sure Amanda will love me in this. She has a thing for nylons, and if I wear this outfit, she’ll be on her knees in no time.”

Mom stared at me silently — wheels turning, processing what I’d just said, trying to think of an alternative to the obvious.

Deciding to help her, I said, “Mom, you do know I’m a lesbian, right?”

“I, um, no,” she responded, still in shock.

“I blame my sperm donor,” I continued. “I saw how he treated someone as wonderful as you, realized that there are a lot more like him out there… and since then. I’ve never really been interested in guys.”

“That… well, it never occurred to me at all,” Mom said, still processing.

“What, that I like girls?” I asked, avoiding saying something crude like, I love licking pussy.

“Yeah,” she said, even as she glanced again at my ripe, juicy cunt. I was pretty sure she really liked what she saw, but didn’t want me to know that.

“I’m sorry to just spring this on you, Mom. Er… are you okay with it?” I suddenly felt a bit apprehensive. I’d always figured that Mom would be fine with me being gay, but her lack of response had me feeling insecure.

“Oh, honey,” she said, coming over and giving me a big reassuring hug, her large breasts pressing oh, so deliciously against mine, “of course I am.”

I hugged her back, feeling good again about where we were, and quickly returned to my objective: seducing her. “I tried guys a couple times, but I never got off with them.”

“Tell me about it!” she laughed.

“Girls,” I smiled, “on the other hand, get me off every time.”

“Hannah!” she said.

“Often multiple times,” I added, slyly offering her glimpses of the perks of a female lover.

I noticed that Mom’s nipples were erect, just like mine, and thought about how she’d been checking me out ever since I got naked — but subtly, as if she didn’t want me to know. Rather than seducing her, could I be awakening something in my mother that was already simmering beneath the surface?

My head swam as I considered it — the idea that Mom might already be visualizing me in a sexual way.

“Haven’t you ever at least thought about sex with another woman, Mom?”

“Oh, I had the, um, occasional crush on other girls when I was in high school,” she said, “but that was then. I’m too old to think about that kind of thing now.”

I rolled my eyes. “Mom, you’re only forty-two, for God’s sake.” I said, taking her hand, “and I’m about to make you look even younger.”

“Good luck with that,” my mother replied as I led her into my room.

“You’ll see.” Letting go of her hand, I said, “Wait here.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Mom responded with a cute smile, which made me wonder if she was secretly submissive. I knew a couple of women who were — and they always tried to hide it from the world, all the while offering sly hints to that effect. My first adult lover, the town librarian, had originally piqued my interest that way, calling me “Ms. Hannah,” whenever I saw her. One day she insisted on helping me seek out a certain book I was looking for, and I fucked her with my fingers right there in the stacks.

Was that what Mom wanted — to be taken by a strong, assertive lover? And was it possible that such a lover could be a woman?

More to the point: could I be that woman?

“Good girl,” I told my mother, giving her the response she would crave if she was truly submissive. She just smiled.

I selected a plaid skirt and a white blouse that I knew would be too tight for Mom, and brought them over to her.

“You want me to dress like a schoolgirl?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.

“You’re my Barbie mom, and you’ll wear whatever I tell you to,” I replied, though in a joking fashion, “Is that clear?”

“Fine!” she replied dramatically, taking the blouse. I could tell she was secretly excited at this sudden new direction our relationship was taking. She was enjoying the attention, but also the idea of her daughter taking charge.

I called her bluff. “Don’t ‘fine’ me. You like being my Barbie mom, don’t you?”

She laughed as she shrugged the blouse on, “You caught me.” We were both behaving in a playful way, like this was a big joke, but something about the moment felt very real. For the first time, it seemed like my sex fantasy of Mom was within my grasp.

“On that note,” I said, picking up my phone. “Let’s see what Barbie’s mom’s name really is.”

Mom was struggling to button the blouse. She pointed out the obvious, “This top is pretty tight.”

“Just button it up,” I said, as I googled barbie’s mom.

“So bossy,” she said, but did as she was told.

After a few more seconds I burst out laughing. “I don’t believe it!”

“What?” she asked, suddenly self-conscious.

“You really are my Barbie mom,” I said, noticing that her nipples were clearly outlined through the tight white blouse.

“What do you mean?” she asked, finishing the last button.

“Barbie’s mom’s name is Margaret,” I said. It was also my mother’s name.

“No way!” she exclaimed.

“See for yourself,” I said, handing her my phone.

“Well, I’ll be,” she said, standing before me in a too-tight blouse, a thong, and a garter belt with stockings. She looked absolutely scrumptious.

“Your tits really are a lot bigger than mine,” I said, openly staring at her upper half.

“Breasts,” she corrected.

“I like the word tits,” I said, feeling especially bold, “I also like the word pussy, and although many people are offended by it, my favorite word is cunt.”

“Hannah!” Mom gasped. Funny; this seemed to shock her more than all the other revelations of the day.

“Mother!” I fired back, then soldiered on, “When you and Dad fucked, what did you say — ‘Please push your willy in and out of my hoo-hah’?”

“Hannah, sweetheart — that’s too much,” Mom protested.

“No, you didn’t — you asked him to fuck your cunt,” I said, then added, “The wall between our bedrooms is pretty thin, Mom.”

“Oh my God!” Mom said, shocked by the realization that I’d heard her and Dad having sex.

“That’s usually what you said when you faked your orgasms, wasn’t it?” I asked.

“Hannah, stop,” she said, then shook her head. “I can’t believe you heard us.” Her cheeks were ruby red.

I shrugged, “Parents fuck. I get it. I mean, I was born and all. Plus, you were pretty loud.”

“I’m not sure I like this enlightened version of you,” Mom said, her cheeks still flushed.

“You will,” I told her.

On to Part Two!

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