Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

by Suzy Freeman

Hello again. I am Suzanne Freeman, a student working toward a PhD in psychology. As part of my dissertation, I have interviewed a number of women who consider themselves as having a higher than usual sex drive that got its start when they were very young. Each subject met with me in a private setting to discuss her intimate experiences.

My first subject, Millie (last name withheld), initially met me in a fairly private section of a local park, where I interviewed her, recording our conversation. Much of this dissertation consists of these transcribed interviews.

For our next meeting, Millie and I met at my apartment. The following portion deals with the sexual precocity of her daughters, with whom she couples regularly. Her husband is fully aware of the intimacy she shares with their two daughters (Emily, twelve, and Piper, nine). He occasionally enjoys sexual touching and oral play with the girls, but those activities fall outside the scope of this dissertation.

NOTE: In the interview portions of this document, “Q” indicates either a question or statement from me, while “A” represents the subject (in this case, Millie). In this particular section, “E” indicates a response from Emily, and “P” serves a similar purpose for Piper. In an effort to provide clarity, much of this entry is in standard prose format, much as one would find in a work of fiction. As other people are introduced who are beyond the subject of the interviews, I use their first initial as an identifier when appropriate.

This session, my fourth interview with Millie, took place at her home in a quiet suburban area of the city. In addition to resuming our interview, I’d been invited over for the express purpose of engaging in lesbian sex with Millie and her daughters. Needless to say, I was most eager to accept.

***

Ringing the doorbell, I heard Millie call, “Come in, Suzanne.”

A wondrous sight awaited me when I made my entrance: Millie, Emily and Piper were all seated on a large forest-green sofa, completely nude. I was surprised, though hardly shocked. I’d seen Millie and Emily naked before (see Parts Two and Three of this study), but not little Piper, who had her feet on the sofa and both legs spread, putting her smooth slit on display. The mischievous cast to her eyes made it all too clear that this little girl knew exactly what she was doing.

I wanted to go down on my knees before her right then and take her sex into my mouth. Instead, I settled for giving the child a warm smile before greeting my hostess.

***

Q: Hello again, Millie. I see your daughters are ready for the fun to begin…

A: Yes, they are! When I told Piper you would be visiting, she broke into a dance. She loves going down on a woman she’s never tasted before.

P: Are you gonna get naked now, too?

Q: Do you want me to?

P: Of course! How can I lick your pussy if you have all your clothes on?

A: Patience, dear. We’ve got all afternoon to enjoy ourselves.

E: Can we undress you, Miss Suzanne?

Q: Of course.

***

At this point, the girls began to remove my clothing. I hadn’t worn a bra that day in anticipation of the pleasures to come. In fact, all I wore was a loose top, shorts, panties and sandals, so Emily and Piper had me stripped naked in less than sixty seconds. At this point, they stepped back to admire my nude form. I‘d taken the time to shave and wax for this little adventure, and the girls were fascinated by my baby-smooth mons.

I was more than ready to fuck, but thought it best to spend some time interviewing the family first. If we got right into the sex, I’d end up too dazed and winded to get the details I wanted. There was a plush accent chair facing Millie and her girls, with a towel spread out in the seat. It was obviously meant for me, so I sat down, keeping my legs apart.

***

Q: May I ask the two of you some questions before we begin?

(Emily and Piper exchanged a glance, then agreed. As I commenced the interview, it didn’t escape my attention that both girls began to gently fondle themselves.)

Q: Emily, we’ll start with you. What is your earliest sexual memory? That doesn’t mean you necessarily knew it was sexual at the time. I’m looking for that first moment when you realized certain touches felt good in a special way, or the sight of someone naked gave you a warm feeling inside.

E: I remember when I was really little, Mommy came into my bedroom and asked me if I ever touched myself down there so that it felt good. I told her yes, I had. She asked me if I’d let her watch me doing it, so she could tell if I was touching the right way. That was okay with me, so I took off my panties, lay down on the bed and started to touch my pussy, but then Mommy asked if she could do it for me, and I said she could.

A: Honestly, I hadn’t planned to do anything like that to Emily, but when she spread her legs apart and began to masturbate… Well, it got me so aroused that I wanted to scream. By then, I’d known for a few years that I felt a sexual attraction to my girls, but I had a firm grip on that desire – or so I thought. All of a sudden, I had to touch my little girl’s cunt. Had to.

E: So, yeah, Mommy started rubbing me there, and it felt loads better than when I did it. After a while, she said something about how pretty my pussy was, then she bent down and kissed it!

Q: Oh, my. Were you surprised?

E: Well, sure. I didn’t know anyone did stuff like that! Anyway, Mommy asked if I liked it, and I told her yes. Then she asked if she could kiss it more, and I told her that was okay. She gave me a few more kisses, but  It wasn’t long before she was licking me… and oh my GOSH, did that ever feel good! It just kept getting better and better, too, until… I don’t know, it was like turned into light or something. Mommy told me that feeling was called an orgasm.

A: And I’ve been licking you ever since, haven’t I?

E: (giggling) Right!

Q: What about you, Piper? What’s your earliest sexual memory?

P: I don’t remember how old I was. Real little.

E: Is this about our first time, Pipes?

P: Uh-huh.

E: I think you were three or four then. I was six or seven.

P: Sounds right. Well, Em told me she could show me something that felt better than anything in the whole world, so of course I wanted to know all about it. She had us get naked, which we did a lot anyway, and then she started licking me down there. At first I thought it was totally gross, ‘cause that’s where I pee from, but Em said it tasted wonderful. It sure felt great, I remember that! I don’t remember if I licked her that time, but after that we always did it to each other.

Q: Do you remember if you had an orgasm?

P: Not for a while. I think the first time was when I was five.

Q: How did that happen?

P: Oh, Mommy was licking me.

Q: How nice. Your mother gave you your first orgasm, then.

P: Yep. And I’ve been having them ever since!

Q: Millie, were you okay with Emily making love to her little sister?

A: Of course! She even asked permission, and I gave it. I think my exact words were, “Go for it, girl!”

Q: Just for the sake of the data, how old were the girls when their father became involved?

A: (Thinks before responding) I think he became involved when they were seven and ten. (Turns to her daughters) Does that sound about right?

E: Yeah. He came home from work early and caught us in bed. I thought he might be mad, but he wasn’t.

Q: Okay. It’s not a part of this study, so that’s all I need to know about him. And you girls don’t mind what he does with you?

P: No.

E: No. But we like it lots more with Mommy. Other girls, too.

P: And women. (Giggles)

E: Yeah, and women.

A: So, is that enough information for today? Shall we get the party started?

Q: Yes! (By then, I was very turned on by what the girls had told me, and watching them toy with their bare slits so casually only made me hotter.)

Note: The following will be presented in standard prose style, like a story. I used my phone to record the video of the events and I have transcribed them based on the visual record.

***

Emily and Piper rose from their seats and stepped up to me. Perching on the left arm of my chair, Emily bent down to take my nipple into the warmth of her mouth. I gazed down into her beautiful blue eyes as she began to suck, and for a moment I was head over heels in love, as if Emily was my own child seeking nourishment.

Piper got down on her knees before me and began to lick and kiss my tummy. She spent nearly a minute probing my navel, pressing her tongue into it as if demonstrating what she intended to do to my cunt. I was positively wired with anticipation.

I glanced over at Millie, who was watching the show and masturbating, a leg draped over the arm of a large, overstuffed accent chair. It was plain to see she intended to watch for now and join in later, so I shifted my full attention to her daughters.

After a moment, Piper nuzzled her way down to my pussy and began to apply the gentlest of kisses to my clitoris. Those gentle pecks gradually intensified until she was feasting on my cunt, using her tongue on me like a swiftly flickering paintbrush.

Fluids oozed from my vagina to be gulped down by the nine-year-old nymphet, though an occasional trickle escaped her lips to flow into the crack of my ass. Piper’s eyes were closed, but I saw enough of her face to be put in mind of someone savoring a scrumptious treat. Occasionally, she would open them to take a good look at my pussy before getting back to work. The child’s obvious pleasure turned me on even more than her busy tongue.

With Piper licking my clit and Emily switching her mouth from one nipple to the other, I was in heaven, my first climax of the day steadily approaching. I had no idea how many orgasms I was going to have, but I could already tell this one was going to be, for want of a better word, a real doozy.

Movement caught my eye, and I noticed Millie rising from her chair. She got down on the floor with her face beneath Piper’s butt, grasped her daughter’s hips and drew them down to her face. I couldn’t see her take that first lick, but I saw a hard jerk run through Piper’s body; heard the child’s ecstatic gasp. The loving attention she was receiving from Mommy seemed to intensify her own lust, and she began eating me as if possessed, all but assaulting my cunt with her mouth and tongue.

I felt Emily’s body shudder, and a glance told me Piper was fingering her big sister while she licked me. The sight was enough to set me off, the sudden rush of orgasm seizing my body in a crushing grip. Tremors and jolts of pleasure raced through me; hoarse cries broke from my throat.

In the midst of ecstasy, I realized Piper was coming as well, and opened my eyes to watch it happen. She shook and heaved, but somehow managed to keep eating my pussy through her climax. It delighted me to think my orgasm might have helped Piper to reach hers.

Once she’d recovered, a sleepy-eyed Piper crawled into my lap and nestled there like a baby, latching her mouth to my left breast. It was such a beautiful moment that I found myself shedding a few joyful tears.

As for Emily, she seized the opportunity to drop down to the floor and embrace her mother. Cradling Piper to my chest, I watched as Millie and Emily quickly arranged themselves in a sixty-nine. It was easy to see that mother and daughter had given each other oral many times before.

Watching her sister and mother make love, Piper lay cuddled against me, casually toying with my right nipple, which stood at rigid attention. Despite my having gone off like a rocket mere moments earlier, those familiar twinges of desire were making themselves known all over again.

Soon, Millie began to come. This caused her to redouble her efforts as she licked her pubescent daughter, and a few seconds later, Emily was gasping through her own release. Millie’s lips were dripping with nectar, as was Emily’s slit, and I found myself thirsting for a taste. I was the only one there who had yet to eat pussy, and I was aching for it.

We rested in silence for a few minutes, Millie said, “Anyone else thirsty?”

“I sure am!” Piper exclaimed.

“Me too,” said Emily, and I replied with a grateful nod.

“Say no more,” Millie replied, getting to her feet and taking a long leisurely stretch. “Care for a glass of wine, Suzanne? I’ve got a lovely Cabernet.”

“Just ice water for me, thanks,” I replied.

“Girls? Lemonade for you?” Emily and Piper happily assented, and their mother padded into the kitchen. I turned off my phone’s video recorder to save power, intending to start it up again before we started off another round of sex.

Out of nowhere, the doorbell rang. I froze. Who could be stopping by now? We were all naked in the front room, which surely reeked of pussy. A mere glance through the door would tell anyone what I’d been up to – namely, sex with underage girls

To my surprise, Emily jumped to her feet and hastened to the entrance, where she peered through the peephole, announced, “Mom? They’re here!” and flung the door open. Two women and three girls were standing outside.

Numb with horror, I scrambled to conceal my nudity, but Piper grasped my arm to stop me. “It’s okay, Miss Suzanne. Don’t be scared, it’s just my aunts and cousins! Mommy said they should come by while you were here to have some more fun.”

That calmed me a bit, but my heart was still pounding as I watched the new arrivals enter. All eyes were on me, and I felt ridiculously self-conscious. It wasn’t every day I got interrupted after sex with another woman and her daughters. In fact, I’d never been walked in on after sex, not since my mother caught me masturbating at age twelve. The memory of that awful moment flashed into my mind, and the awkwardness I felt seemed to double.

“Didn’t I tell you they were coming by?” Millie asked, looking flustered.

“Uh…no. You didn’t.”

“Oh, my. I’m so sorry, Suzy! Honestly, I was sure I had. Er, I hope you don’t mind…”

I tried to keep my feelings under wraps, but honestly, I could’ve throttled Millie right then. She’d nearly given me a heart attack! “No, not really. I just wish you’d prepared me. It’s all right.”

As I spoke, the youngest of the girls walked up to me, casually stripping off her clothing along the way until she stood before me completely naked, her smooth vulva a pronounced bulge that begged for the caress of my tongue..

“I’m Melinda. Whath your name?” she said.

Squatting down, I gave this pretty child my warmest smile. “I’m Suzy, a friend of your Aunt Millie. And she tells me you’re six years old. Is that right?”

“Yeth.” Oh, my, her lisp was adorable!

I turned to the other girls. “And you’re Lori and Riley, right?”

“Yes,” Lori said, the older of the two.

“And you’re, um…”

“I’m eleven. Riley’s nine,” Lori said. She was at least three inches taller than her sister, obviously the more mature of the two.

Their mothers, Millie’s sisters, stepped forward to offer their hands. I took each one in turn as they introduced themselves as Randi and Cassie.

Randi, the older of the two, said, “Millie, I can’t believe you didn’t tell her we were coming over. She must have been terrified!”

“It’s fine,” I said. “I was shocked for a moment when Emily flung the door open with all of us naked and, well, looking like we just had sex. But I’m fine now. I should have recognized you both as her sisters.”

“As sisters, we’re a lot closer than most,” Cassie said, a twinkle in her eyes.

“You’d be surprised,” I said. “I’m doing research on women who have powerful sex drives, and from the questionnaires I’ve received, I’d say the number of sisters who engage in lesbian incest is far greater than most people think.”

“Really?” said Randi. “I always suspected that, but I’ve never met anyone who was doing research on the subject.”

Warming to the topic, I said, “Actually, that’s just a sort of sub-topic of my study. Mostly, I’m looking at the effects of a strong sex drive in children, and how it manifests itself in their adult sexuality. The truth is, I’m finding that nearly all the women who admit to having had a powerful sex drive at an early age would engage in some kind of lesbian activity with their sisters. If they had sisters, that is. The same goes for girls and their brothers, though that isn’t part of my study.”

“I think I need to have a talk with my friend Erica,” said Cassie. “She’s been sex crazy since kindergarten, I swear… and she grew up with two sisters and twin brothers!”

Randi joined in the laughter. “Christ, it must’ve been a nonstop orgy for that bunch.”

Cassie snorted. “Knowing Erica, she probably fucked all four of them!”

That put me in mind of a certain study subject, the woman who I planned to interview next. Her name was Erica, and she did, in fact, have four siblings, two sisters and two brothers. Her initial responses seemed to indicate that she had indeed indulged in sexual games with them at an early age.

I said nothing, of course, but did wonder if this might be the same Erica the ladies spoke of.

“So, shall we get comfortable?” Randi asked, glancing around the room.

“By all means,” said Millie. “That is, if you intend to enjoy yourselves.”

“Oh, we do!” Randi declared. She turned to Cassie and the sisters kissed, a long, lingering kiss with lots of tongue action. Randi’s daughters drew together and did the same. They began to undress themselves and each other until everyone in the room was naked and ready for action.

“Leth play with Aunt Millie’th friend!” little Melinda exclaimed, pointing at me.

This suggestion certainly seemed to find favor with the others. Randi, Cassie and their daughters all approached the sofa where I sat.

It occurred to me that this could have been planned beforehand. Even little Melinda seemed to know her part. She looked up at her mother and said, “Now?”

“Yes, sweetie. Now,” Cassie answered.

Melinda leaned in, took my left nipple into her mouth and began to suck, then Cassie latched on to the other. Going down on her knees, Randi slid her hands beneath my ass and pulled it forward until she had complete access to my twin holes. She placed her mouth on my anus and began to tongue me there. Lori stretched out on the sofa and started licking my pussy from the right hand side. Riley took the left side and applied her tongue to me as well. The girls seemed to be dueling to see which one could make me come first, shifting from my vagina to my labia to my clit and back again.

Five females, all blood relations, working together to give me pleasure such as I’d never experienced. Oh, I’d had my share of threesomes and even the occasional foursome, but five lovers servicing me at the same time was downright unearthly. To say I was feeling like I’d died and gone to heaven would be as meaningless as claiming the sun was a trifle hot.

A glance across the room told me Millie and her daughters were cuddled up together in the large accent chair, enjoying the show. I suppose Emily and Piper got restless and eager to join in, because they were suddenly standing on either side of me, nuzzling my face. Parting my lips, I met Millie’s daughters in a passionate three-way kiss.

Now, seven women and girls were making love to me. It was an incredible experience, but I felt a longing to give pleasure as well as receive it. Well, there was Millie, still in the chair, legs spread wide as she masturbated. Between kisses from her girls, I told her, “Come here, Millie. Let me touch your cunt.”

There wasn’t much room, and my view of Millie was mostly blocked by her daughters’ heads as they continued to kiss me, but she managed to get close enough that I could slip two fingers inside her, then start thrusting them in and out.

It occurred to me that this would have made an excellent photograph, but I’d not set my phone back up after my previous round of sex with Millie and her girls. I still did my best to picture what it would look like if someone entered the room and found us going at it.

The sheer eroticism of that image was enough to set me off. My orgasm pounded through me like an earthquake. I must have come for over a minute; or at least it seemed that way.

Utterly done in, I slumped back where I sat while the others paired off and began to couple with one another. Millie was licking eleven-year-old Lori, while Cassie and her niece Emily lay down side by side on the carpet and drifted into a deep kiss. Piper seated herself in a nearby recliner and presented her flat chest to Riley, who applied her tongue to the child’s nipples. Seating herself on the sofa, Randi pulled her niece Melinda into her lap.

I wanted to taste Melinda, the littlest of all the girls. She’d been the first of Millie’s surprise guests to greet me, and the first to undress. And there she was, seated in her Aunt Randi’s lap, the bare cleft of her sex on display. I had to lick her.

While Randi kissed her niece’s neck, her hands gliding up and down that exquisitely childish body, I went down on my knees before Melinda and took the six-year-old’s slit into my mouth, easing the tip of my tongue into her. She tasted heavenly, her opening parting for me as I licked and sucked.

The tiny, exposed jewel of Melinda’s clitoris was now pressed between my tongue and her pubic bone. I used my index finger to circle the entrance to her vagina without penetrating her, wondering if she’d ever had anything inside her before.

Randi seemed to sense my thoughts. “You can fuck her, but only with one finger,” she said, then gave my anus another long, lustful lick. I smiled into Melinda’s baby-smooth cleft and, after moistening my index finger, inserted it into her vagina. The tender folds parted, easily allowing my entrance.

Melinda squirmed and whimpered, overwhelmed by the pleasure I was giving her. It was an erotic experience beyond compare. Ever since I first identified as a lesbian, my deepest desires had revolved around making love to little girls. Now I was living out my fantasies many times over, with five enchanting nymphs to enjoy.

I knew the child’s orgasm was imminent when her hips began to buck. This was followed by a violent shudder, accompanied by a long, drawn-out cry that rose to a scream, then she slumped back into her mother’s arms. I gave Melinda a moment to recover, then raised myself to kiss her, allowing my tongue to dart between her parted lips. She eagerly matched my passion..

She was dreamy-eyed, but I wasn’t sure if it signified lust or sleepiness. Placing a tiny peck on the tip of the child’s nose, I whispered, “I loved doing that to you.”

She smiled at me. “I loved it too.”

Telling Melinda goodbye with one last kiss, I moved to Riley and Piper, both nine and, according to Millie, born only a month apart. They were busy fingering each other. These two could have been twins instead of cousins, given how similar their bare pussies were.

I had yet to fuck Riley, so I bent to apply my tongue to her clit. She immediately began to squirm when my tongue joined Piper’s finger. “Yes! Lick me!” she exclaimed. I did as she asked, and soon, she went off in what seemed to be a full-body orgasm. She shook and shivered as ecstasy claimed her.

Once she’d sagged into her cousin’s arms, I delved between Piper’s thin thighs and began to love her the same way. Riley’s hand had gone slack, so I placed my finger at the entrance to Piper’s vagina and gently slipped it into her body, using my thumb to brush her clitoris.

Like Riley, Piper began to respond immediately to what I was doing. It took less than sixty seconds for her to reach climax, her second of the day. She cried, “Oh, oh, oh!” as she came, thrusting herself against my busy hand.

I could hear the sounds of ecstasy around me, and sat up to watch. It was the erotic spectacle of a lifetime, a family of women and girls immersing themselves in the delights of lesbian incest.

I’ve never enjoyed that kind of intimacy, despite having huge crushes on my mother and my older sister not long after reaching puberty. To this day, I still occasionally masturbate to fantasies of them both.

I hugged Piper and Riley to me while the others continued to make love. Within a few minutes, everyone had come at least once. We were scattered through the room, some on the furniture, some on the carpet, all basking in the aftermath of good sex.

We took a break to refresh ourselves, and after a drink, I reluctantly announced that I had to leave. The girls were especially unhappy about that, and I explained my need to get home and begin transcribing what I could of this encounter, especially since I didn’t get anything recorded after Millie’s sisters and nieces joined the party. I would have to depend on my memory, which is very good but not photographic. Accuracy is crucial in this kind of study.

I was the only one to dress. Just before leaving my new friends, I took a moment to say goodbye to each one, sharing kisses both tender and passionate.

When I kissed Millie, she took my hand, murmuring, “Don’t be a stranger, Suzy. You’ll always be welcome at our family get-togethers. In fact, I’ll let you know when we’re planning the next one.”

“I’d love that,” I told her, and she kissed me again.

Emily bashfully asked if I’d ever be willing to have a sleepover with her. Piper quickly expressed interest, and the other three girls loved the idea as well. Their mothers left the possibility open, but something told me I’d very likely be hosting a slumber party of underage lesbians very soon.

As I drove home, I found myself fantasizing about what might happen at such an overnighter, which left me aroused all over again. I ended up unfastening my pants as the garage door closed behind me and masturbating to a frenzied orgasm in the driver’s seat.

Upon catching my breath, I went inside, took a quick shower, then wrote up my account of what had just taken place with Millie and her extended family. The next day, I put the finishing touches on this part of my study.

I’ve been thinking more and more about that sleepover with Millie’s daughters and nieces. Perhaps I’ll give Emily a call and make the invitation official.

***

Note: This concludes the interview sessions with Millie and her daughters. The next section of the study will involve the aforementioned Erica. We have an interview scheduled a few days from now. For our initial session, she has agreed to meet me at her apartment.

On to Chapter Five!

The Story Thus Far

Chapter One: Mallory Kalvornek and her lover Julie Hanson have returned to Bronning, Minnesota, for the first time in years to catch up with friends and family. Meanwhile, their old friend (and occasional sex partner) paramedic Nettie Hastings fights to save a life, her lover Hannah drops by with an unexpected surprise, Terry Wilder grapples with writer’s block… and two little girls living in a trailer park named Heather and Gina are being carefully observed by a hidden stranger.

Chapter Two: Mallory and Julie get together at Nettie’s home with Nettie and her lover Hannah, Nettie’s friend Terry Wilder, Terry’s teen daughter Halee, and Mallory and Julie’s friend (and occasional sex partner) Cindy. Gossip is exchanged, memories shared, and an unexpected attraction between Mallory and Terry Wilder reveals itself. Meanwhile, the mother of the two trailer park girls Heather and Gina goes out for a night on the town, oblivious to the presence of the man spying on her home.

Chapter Three: At Nettie’s place, Nettie and Hannah leave the others to indulge in a bit of romantic pleasure, while Julie and her old friend Cindy get it on with Terry’s teen daughter Halee. As for Mallory, she has repaired to Terry’s place for one of her occasional bouts of heterosexual action. Appetites are indulged, confidences shared. Meanwhile, Heather and Gina are abducted from their trailer home by a mysterious and very scary man.

Chapter Four: At Nettie’s place, four women and Halee Wilder greet the morning after an evening of lesbian abandon. Later that day, Mallory rejoins Julie, Nettie, Cindy and Hannah for a day of fishing. Halee returns home and spends the day upgrading her internet in preparation for promised to be a fun night of video chat sex with her girlfriend Bethany. Meanwhile, Grace and Heather are in the custody of the mysterious man, who seems to takes delight in terrorizing them.

Chapter Five: After their day of fishing, Nettie, Julie, Cindy, Mallory & Hannah engage in a five-woman sexfest inside a tent… and with the use of Cindy’s phone, their old friend and occasional bedmate Emma attends the orgy virtually. In the midst of their abandon, Nettie has a weird, vague memory flashback that leaves her shaken, but she conceals it from the others. Back home, Halee and her new love interest Bethany (Hannah’s daughter) are having long-distance sex via their laptops. 

Chapter Six: Nettie has a heart-to-heart with Hannah about her personal demons. Later, she gets a call from Agent Bridgett Ramscone, who has an unsettling request: for Nettie to go through the documentation of her own childhood kidnapping — and the murder of her sister — as a possible way to gain insight into the abduction of Heather and Gina (who are still being emotionally abused by their kidnapper, but are also taking steps to escape). Nettie is shaken, but agrees to do what she can. 

Chapter Seven: Many years after the fact, submerged memories of Nettie’s kidnapping began to make themselves known — memories of a possible accomplice to the original crime. She shares her thoughts with Bridgett. Meanwhile, Heather and Gina work on a potential escape from their makeshift prison.

Chapter Eight: Nettie unearths more hints that kidnap victims Heather and Gina were abducted by the same man who kidnapped and brutalized Nettie and her deceased sister over a decade ago — but that man was known to have died in prison.  Gina manages to escape captivity. But Heather can’t fit through the opening they dug, and must remain behind. Nettie gets a possible fix on the girls’ captor who, while out and about, gets a flat tire — then he discovers the spare is flat as well. 

Chapter Nine: The man who kidnapped Gina and Heather must get his flat spare tire fixed, not knowing the police have been alerted to him and are searching the area. Nettie, who is also hunting for the man, manages to find his abandoned car — then, some time later, makes an even more startling discovery: little Gina, alone and weeping by an abandoned road. In the meantime, the kidnapper manages to make his escape from the area by phoning a mysterious woman to pick him up.

Chapter Ten: Mallory meets with her mother, Sharon, for the first time in months, but fails to learn the cause of the recent distance between them. Nettie is still obsessed with Jacob Brentshaw, the man who kidnapped her and murdered her sister Annamarie so many years ago, sensing he is also behind the recent kidnapping as well… but can’t get past the fact that Brentshaw was killed in prison. Her actions saved the lives of Gina and Heather, but she remains determined to keep working the case on her own. For the first time, Nettie tells her lover Hannah about her own kidnapping and Annamarie’s death, events she has refused to discuss with anyone for years.

Chapter Eleven: Terry finds himself at loose ends, questioning his current life path, and decides to open up to than his dear friend and former sex partner Nettie. She and Hannah lend a sympathetic ear, then their conversation turns to kidnappings — the recent one, as well as Nettie’s own horrific abduction over a decade earlier, when her sister was murdered. She is fast coming round to the conclusion that both kidnappings involved an accomplice.

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

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

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

by Rachael Yukey

Sail the Darkness
Walking through the cold
I’m not afraid
I know the wind will blow
Michael Schenker Group, 2021

“That was a cool movie,” Dawn was saying, as she and Allison made their way down the hall towards her bedroom.

“Told you,” Naomi called out, still seated on the couch. Chelsey had got up to use the bathroom.

“Night, girls,” said Halee, as the bedroom door swung shut.

A moment later, Chelsey emerged. “Ready to turn in, Naomi?”

“Sure!” Naomi responded with an eager nod.

Halee grinned. “You two have fun.”

Naomi rose from the couch, casting the blanket aside. Circling the coffee table, she paused by the arm of Halee’s chair. Taking her sister’s hand, she stroked the back of it delicately.

“Me and Chels were talking before the movie,” she said, her voice husky. “It’d be really cool if you came upstairs and hung out with us.”

Halee’s arousal instantly doubled in intensity. She hadn’t hooked up with either of the two younger girls since they’d chosen to become a couple several weeks before. Her mouth watered at the prospect of being alone and naked with the two of them once again.

She heaved a sigh. “I’d love to, but Bethany’s my girlfriend now, and we haven’t really talked about doing it with other girls—”

Chelsey came up beside Naomi, entwining fingers through her girlfriend’s hair. “That’s too bad—whoops!” She giggled. “I mean, it’s great that you’re with somebody, but too bad you can’t come and, y’know—”

Halee chuckled. “Believe me, I wish I could. Have a good time.”

As the two younger girls bounded up the stairs, Halee checked her texts. And smiled.

Five minutes later she was settling into bed, encumbered by not so much as a stitch of clothing. Through the wall she shared with Naomi, Halee could just barely hear rapturous moans intermingled with the squeaking of her sister’s bed frame.

She thumbed the call button for the number she’d already pulled up on her phone. “Hi,” Bethany replied, sounding a bit winded.

“Hi yourself. You working out or something?”

“Uh-uh. I just couldn’t wait till you called to get started.”

Halee snickered. “You naughty, naughty girl. You have no idea how wet I am right now. Hey, you mind if I put you on speaker?”

“Why would I mind?”

“Because Naomi and Chelsey are right on the other side of this wall. I don’t know if they’d be able to hear you, but…”

A moan of pleasure drifted through the phone speaker. “Oooh—that’s kind of hot, actually. What are they up to?”

“Same thing we are. I can kinda hear it.” The squeaks of her sister’s protesting bed frame were steadily growing louder and faster, and Halee could no longer just listen. Wriggling her middle finger between slick, moist lips and into the juicy canal of her cunt, she moaned, loudly enough for Naomi and Chelsey to hear.

“Put me on speaker!” Bethany exclaimed. “I want in on this.”

Using her free hand, Halee fumbled with her phone, managing to thumb the speaker button on the third try. She was massaging her clit in slow circles, squishing sounds emanating from her womanly center. She moaned again, thrusting her hips.

“Mmmmm,” Bethany purred from the other side of the connection. “Oh, Halee, this feels so fucking good.”

“Hey,” called Naomi’s muffled, unsteady voice from the other side of the wall. “Is that… Oh, God! Oh!” There was a moment’s pause. “Is that Bethany?”

“Is someone else talking?” Bethany wanted to know.

“Naomi,” Halee got out, her voice breathy and strained. “Yeah, it’s Bethany,” she called out. “She says—she says—oh God—” Muffled giggles filtered through the wall, interrupted by another moan.

“What’s going on over there, anyway?” Halee called out.

“Chelsey’s eating my—my—oh, God—Ohhhhh!”

“I didn’t catch that—what did she say?” Bethany gasped.

Halee gasped, then caught her breath. “Naomi’s getting her pussy eaten,” she moaned.

Then Naomi was crying out over and over, clearly in the throes of ecstasy. Gradually her voice subsided. Halee was rubbing her clit with wild abandon, breath hissing through gritted teeth, her hips churning. Bethany’s moans filtered through the phone speaker.

A loud cry came through the wall. “Did you hear that?” said Halee. “That—Oh! That was Chelsey.”

“I h-heard something.” Bethany got out, stumbling through her words. “Me and Chelsey—Ohhhh! W-we haven’t—oh, Jesus—haven’t met.”

“What’s happening, Chelsey?” Halee yelled. She pressed her phone against the wall, wanting Bethany to hear the reply.

“Hi, Halee!” Chelsey’s last syllable came out as a high-pitched shriek. “I’m—I’m—I’m sitting on Naomi’s face!”

A moan was wrenched from Halee’s lips, waves of pleasure intensifying at the thought of sweet little Chelsey riding her sister’s open mouth.

“Oh God, I’m coming!” Bethany screamed. “Oh God, oh God, oh my GAWWWD!”

Halee felt her own climax build, then claim her, each breath exploding from her chest, accompanied by hoarse “huh!” sounds. Finally she managed to get out, “Oh God, I just came,” then collapsed.

From the other side of the wall Chelsey was gasping for air, intermittent cries escaping her lips. Then she screamed like a banshee, a high-pitched shriek that rose in intensity before suddenly cutting off. Halee thought she heard the dull plop of a body falling to a mattress.

“Now that was an orgasm,” Halee proclaimed, still getting her wind back.

“Sure was,” a breathless Chelsey panted.

“I heard it,” said Bethany. “Sound really carries through your walls, huh?”

“It’s an old house,” said Halee.

Suddenly Laney, Halee’s Boston Terrier, began to yip furiously.

“Hush, Laney,” said Halee. The dog obligingly shut up, and Halee listened intensely, soon picking up the thud of a door closing downstairs.

“Dad’s home,” she said, a note of surprise in her voice. “Hey, Bethany, I’d better hang up. Have a good night.”

“Night. Tell Chelsey and Naomi thanks for the good time!”

Laughing, Halee signed off. “Get some sleep, you two,” she called through the thin plaster wall. “I’m gonna run downstairs for a minute.” Shrugging into her bathrobe, she exited the room, a four-legged ball of fuzz hot on her heels.

She found her dad kneeling in the foyer. Their golden retriever Tinkerbell  had come to greet him at the door, and Terry was scratching her behind the ears. “You’re back early,” she remarked.

“There was a slight change of plans,” Terry replied, getting to his feet.

“Good. Where’d you go instead?”

“I took a walk, followed by a visit with Nettie and Hannah. How was your evening? Any of the young ones give you trouble?”

Halee shrugged. “Maya was a little pissy about bedtime, because she knew we were watching a movie. Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

Terry slipped past her, making his way down the hall. “What movie?”

Halee followed, both dogs at her heels. “Monster Squad. Dawn and Allison are about the age where you let Naomi watch it, so I figured it’d be okay.”

Terry paused in the dining nook, turning his head towards her with the touch of a smile. “Solid choice. Have the dogs been walked?”

“Yeah.”

“Excellent. I think I’m going to see if I can get some writing done.”

Halee’s eyebrows lifted. “At this hour?”

Terry’s eyebrow lifted in amusement. “How late are you going to be up coding for your computer course?”

Halee’s only reply was a shamefaced grin. Terry let her off the hook with a smile and a shrug. “In any event, I have an idea of sorts, and there’s no time like the present, don’t you think?”

Halee watched her father’s retreating back as he strode down the hallway. His forays into the writing office were few and far between these days, and usually of brief duration. Did this late-night flash of inspiration mean things might be turning around for him? Or would this prove to be yet another exercise in disappointment?

The corners of her mouth curved upwards, slowly forming a grin. Beneath her sardonic exterior, Halee Wilder was an optimist at heart. “C’mon, Laney,” she said, and made her way up the stairs, her terrier close behind.

***

“You look tired,” says the teenage girl, leading the way up the stairs.

“I don’t like to sleep,” the younger, black-haired girl replies. “I have bad dreams.”

“I’ll bet you do,” says Jamie Nelson. She pulls down the ladder leading to her attic bedroom and begins to climb, beckoning Nettie to follow. Once aloft, she bypasses the old-fashioned pull-chain that turns the ceiling light on, leaving the room bathed in the glow of a half-dozen lava lamps. Easing into the battered old love seat, she waves Nettie over to join her.

Once they’re both settled, Jamie places a hand on Nettie’s knee. “This is the first time you’ve come over by yourself, little sister. What’s up?”

“Oh—everybody’s busy. Uncle Jason’s on one of his clinicals, Aunt Lisa is at work, Julie’s doing this robotics camp thing.” As she lists each person, she ticks them off on her fingers. “Anyway—I dunno. It just got quiet in the house, is all. I hope it’s okay—”

“Sure, it’s okay. I told you to come by any time, didn’t I? Wanna listen to a record?”

“Yeah!”

Pushing herself to her feet, Jamie crosses the room, Nettie trailing in her wake. Reaching her shelves full of vinyl, Jamie steps to one side, extending her arm in dramatic fashion. “Anything in particular?”

Nettie purses her lips thoughtfully. “Most of what we listen to is pretty old,” she says after a moment. “I mean, that’s great, I love it, but what do you have that’s newer?”

Jamie thinks for a moment, then draws a record from the “P” section. “Pharoah,” she says, displaying the cover. “Maybe my favorite new band. This is their second album, and it just came out last year. Interested?”

“For sure! Can I put it on?”

A moment later, the two girls are snuggling on the love seat. As the album progresses, Nettie runs a finger along the top of the older girl’s thigh, and is rewarded with a slight shiver. She wonders if Jamie might be interested in doing some of the same stuff they did last time she was there with Julie and Mallory. After the record is over, of course.

***

“Earth to Antoinette.”

Nettie’s head jerked up. She was standing in front of her record shelves, fingers resting against the spines of her Pharoah collection. Hannah was seated on the love seat, margarita in hand, gazing at her with raised eyebrows.

“Sorry,” said Nettie, giving her head a quick shake. “You into Pharoah?”

“Never heard of ‘em.”

“Then prepare to be educated.” Nettie extracted her copy of The Longest Night, the same album Jamie had played for her all those years ago.

“You okay? You kind of—zoned out there.”

“Yeah.” Placing the stylus in the groove, Nettie crossed the room, settling onto the love seat just as the full-fury assault of the opening riff slammed through the speakers. “I just got to thinking about the first time I heard this record. It was pretty much brand new at the time. Jamie played it for me.”

“And Jamie is—oh, yeah. Wasn’t she the one that used to play guitar in Mallory’s band?”

“Yup. She was—” Nettie trailed off. She picked up the glass of orange juice she had poured for herself and took a sip. She’d drunk two glasses of bourbon that evening, and was steadfastly refusing to have a third.

“You know,” she said, “I think I might have to quit drinking. I’ve got just the hint of a buzz, and it’s pissing me off. Once I get to that point, I want to get shitfaced, or at least close to it. That’s not good.”

“Would it help if I stop drinking around you?”

Nettie mulled that over for a moment. “Thanks, but no. I’m going to be around people who are drinking for the rest of my life. If I decide to quit entirely, it’s something I have to do on my own. And I haven’t decided that, yet. I’d like to hit a point where I’m like Terry—y’know, he’ll have a couple drinks two or three evenings a week, and he’s just enjoying the flavor and a light buzz. I’ve never seen him even close to drunk. I want to be able to do that, without craving more.”

Hannah was nodding slowly. “And maybe you can, in time. I think it’s great that you’re cutting back. But you were saying, about Jamie?”

Nettie set her orange juice down and laid her head against the cushion. “Remember last weekend in the tent, when you asked if I was okay? I had this sudden flood of memories while we were video chatting with Emma. It’s like I’d blocked out a good eighty percent of everything that happened during that year after Anna died, which is basically the time I spent in Dickson, then suddenly it all came back. And you know what?”

“No. What?”

Nettie smiled. “It’s almost all good stuff. The kind of stuff you want to remember, you know? It’s like I’ve been blocking all this good shit, because I’m afraid of the bad shit that comes with it. And you know, I haven’t been with those four girls all together since I came back home. Matter of fact, I haven’t seen Emma at all in ten years or so. Being with the four of them like that—it just kind of brought everything back.”

Hannah polished off her margarita. “But that’s a good thing, right?”

“Yeah, but it’s weird. Like I’ll be doing something, and it’ll trigger a memory from back then. I was looking at my Pharoah records, and suddenly I was just—I dunno. Transported back. Me and Jamie alone in her room when everyone else was busy with life. It was the coolest room—she had the whole attic in this ginormous old house her family lived in. There are a lot of other memories like that. Jamie and I got really close while I was in Dickson, and I’d forgotten all of it.” There were tears in Nettie’s eyes now. “That fucking sucks.”

“So maybe it’s time to reconnect.”

Nettie lifted her head, took another sip of juice. “Yeah. I think I’m gonna go down to Dickson when everyone is there the first week of August. Wanna come with, if you’re not working?”

“Absolutely. I do have one question, though. What the fuck were your parents doing while you were living at Julie’s house for a year?”

Nettie let out a mirthless bark of laughter. “We haven’t really talked about my folks, have we? Well—they’re batshit. Or were, in Dad’s case. They met while they were both inpatient at Prairie St. John—that’s the nut hut in Fargo. The whole fucked-up situation with us getting kidnapped, then losing Anna, drove them off the deep end. They both ended up in institutions again. Even when they got out, they weren’t really in a position to take care of me, not right away.”

“Ouch. That blows. But I think it’s good that you’re recovering your memories. I’d love to hear some of them, if you’re ready to talk.”

“Oh, I am. I just wish I could get at the important ones.”

“I don’t follow.”

Nettie’s eyes narrowed. “I still can’t remember much from when me and Anna were captives. Maybe I never will. I was pretty sick, on top of everything else. It could be those memories just—aren’t there. But part of me feels like it’s important—like if I could remember some of that, it might give me some insight into what just happened to Gina and Heather Dulcey.”

Hannah laid a hand on Nettie’s arm. “It’s probably not a thing you can force,” she said. “Just something you have to let come in its own time, if it ever does.”

“Oh, I know. And I’m going to try not to think about it too much, at least for the next couple of days. I promised you the weekend. Johnstown tomorrow?”

Hannah grinned. “Dinner and tongue exercises? Can’t wait.”

***

Pulp, thought Terry Wilder. Purest pulp. I wouldn’t read this to my dog.

The punchline, of course, being that he just had read it to his dog. Tinkerbell, curled up at his feet, had rested unperturbed as he read aloud through two chapters of a story he had tentatively entitled “Junkyard Jet Skis.” Leaning to one side, Terry scratched the dog absently on the side of the neck. She changed position slightly, an indescribable noise escaping her throat.

“It’s horseshit, isn’t it, Tink?” said Terry. “You can tell me. I won’t take offense.” Tinkerbell shifted a little to afford him better access to the scruff of her neck, but declined to venture an opinion regarding Terry’s attempt at post-apocalyptic fiction.

“No literary criticism tonight? Exactly what do I keep you around for, then?” The dog shifted position again, clearly demanding to have her belly rubbed. Terry obligingly moved his hand in that direction. The fingers of his other hand beat a restless rhythmic pattern on the arm of his office chair. For once he wasn’t looking at a dead end; the direction the story should go in the succeeding chapter was fairly clear in his mind. The question was whether the damn thing was worth pursuing to begin with.

Fuck it. It’s pulp, but it’s pulp with DIRECTION, damn it. Might as well ride this out; see where it goes.

Leaning forward, he tapped the ENTER key with his free hand, the cursor blinking at the beginning of what was to be the first paragraph of chapter three. He lifted his other hand from Tinkerbell’s belly, intending to return it to the keyboard. But before he could push his chair forward to do so, Tink rolled over, sat up, and sprang into his lap in one smooth motion. Curled up, she barely fit between the chair arms.

Terry regarded the animal sourly. “Jesus Christ. Do I have to type around you?” Rolling the chair as close to the desk as he could, he reached over the top of Tinkerbell’s silky red fur, his fingers resting lightly on the keys. “You win, fuzzball. Let’s do this, shall we?”

***

From the Diary of Mallory Kalvornek, June 12th, 2022

I don’t know. I just don’t. I’ve spent the past four hours wandering the wooded areas of the family property, and my head isn’t any clearer than when I started. Also: I didn’t realize how out of shape I am. My legs ache from the miles I walked, and my body is coated with sweat.

I thought after a few days spent in the house my great-great-grandfather built, taking a walk through the woods, revisiting my childhood playground, I’d know the right thing to do. But I’m still fucking clueless.

So many things different, so many the same. There used to be this maze of tunnels in a big bramble thicket about a half-mile into what was once the pasture, which has grown over pretty heavily, as there haven’t been cattle on the property since before I was born. I used to use that thicket as a playhouse when I was little. I even kept a bunch of plastic dishes and doll furniture out there, and I’d bring some of my dolls along when I went to play. If my cousins came to visit, it’d be a fort, a castle, a dungeon, or whatever popped into our heads at the time.

Can’t get into those tunnels now. The entrances are completely choked with brambles. When did that happen? It could have been while I was still living here; I don’t think I’ve been back to that place since I was ten or so. I never even took Julie there. I wonder if some of those old plastic toys are still there, entombed in the brambles? Probably; I don’t remember retrieving them.

The little pond is dried up. That process was already well underway when I was a kid; it was an artificial pond my grandpa created by digging out a trench from the nearby swamp. Over the years, the trench filled in with muck. No more water flow. Julie and I used to go there sometimes in high school. Julie was fascinated by the frogs, and could spend an entire afternoon watching them. Now that the water has receded, the frogs are back in the marshes. Some nights we can hear their chorus from the porch.

But a lot of the old paths I used to walk are still there; game trails of longstanding that the deer still use to this day. And there’s signs of human activity. Following a path, I found Jason’s favorite deer-hunting location. He’s got a comfy stand, complete with portable heating, in a tree at the top of a hill. I climbed up and sat in there awhile, just taking in a nice birds-eye view of the eastern section of the old pasture. It sure is beautiful, even more so than when I was a kid. With the cows long gone, the forest is gradually reclaiming the land.

I also checked out the fields, at least the ones attached to the homestead, and boy, did that bring back some memories. My renter has soybeans in this year, which is a crop my dad grew on a pretty regular basis. The bean plants are still short, but they look good. There’s been enough rain that I don’t think they’ve had to run the irrigator thus far.

As I looked out across the fields, my mind flashed back to when I was a little girl, and I used to ride on the tractors or the combine with Daddy. That stopped around the time I was seven or eight. Like playing in the bramble thicket tunnels or so many other things in life, it’s not something that ended with any kind of purpose; it just sort of tapered off.

Then in high school, once we were old enough, Dad started hiring Julie and me to do fieldwork, an arrangement we continued to draw on for spending cash when we’d return for the summer during our college years. I’ve spent a lot of time out there, going back and forth across the fields in a tractor cab. Can’t say I miss it, exactly, but there’s a certain nostalgia attached to those younger days.

I sold the tractors and field equipment the year Dad passed—that’s how I got the money to settle the surprisingly stiff inheritance tax. All that’s left in the machine shed are Dad’s tools and an old John Deere model R tractor from the early 1950s that Dad was planning to restore and never got around to. I couldn’t quite bring myself to sell that one. The shed feels empty without the big tractors, the combine, or the other bits of machinery that Dad preferred to keep out of the rain.

The house is falling into disrepair, and some decisions about its status will have to be made soon. Either I need to fix it—which will NOT be cheap—or just board it up permanently. Dad was never great about maintaining the place to begin with, and was unable to do even a token amount during the last year of his life. It’s still livable, but that condition is growing marginal. All Dad’s stuff is still inside; I never went through it. My bedroom remains unaltered, except for the stuff I took with me when I moved out.

On a more humorous note, I either forgot—or maybe never noticed back then—what a pile of junk this old piano is! I got it tuned early last week, the day after we had the power turned back on, and it wasn’t really worth the money. It’s got a thin, reedy sound, lacking in both body and sustain. The high notes just kinda go plink. It’s very old, almost a century, so you’d think it’d be worth something as a collectible, but really it’s not. There are zillions of these old budget uprights all over America, and mostly people have to pay to get someone to take them away. There’s a warm and fuzzy sort of nostalgia to sitting in the living room plunking around on the instrument I practiced with for all those years, but as I prepare for my fall concert series, I’ll be using the keyboard I brought along.

Bottom line: I’m no closer to deciding what I should do with the property than when we first turned into the driveway a little over a week ago. I know I want to hang onto it, but that’s a massive commitment I’m far from certain I can handle, and it would be a hell of a lot to ask of Julie.

Speaking of Julie, I suppose I should take a shower before she gets back. She’s out fishing on Lake Anne with her dad and sister. They invited me along, but Jason’s bass boat isn’t really big enough for four people to effectively lure-fish out of and besides, I’d been kind of needing an afternoon on my own to wander the farm. Not that it helped much, damn it.

Anyway—shower. Got to freshen my smelly self up before Julie arrives, because for some reason, despite all this crap floating around in my head, I’m as horny as a bull moose in rut.

***

“Good morning, Nettie. How are you?” Bridgett Ramscone leaned back in her office chair, a cup of coffee in the hand that wasn’t holding her phone. Through the big window set into her office wall, she looked out upon the cubicle farm that comprised her domain at the DEA’s Minneapolis office. She wondered why Nettie would be calling her out of the blue; she hadn’t heard a peep from her since they’d parted ways in that Virginia hotel over a week before.

“All right, you?” Nettie’s tone said she wasn’t in the mood for small talk, but would consent to play along.

“It’d be better if it wasn’t pissing rain. It’s been coming down non-stop for three straight days.”

“Yeah, it’s about the same here. Look, Bridgett, I have a question for you.”

Bridgett pursed her lips. “I might or might not have an answer.”

“How does a DEA agent go about getting information? Like, if you wanted to know about a person, or a business, or, you know, an organization—”

Bridgett sat up straight. She’d wondered when this was coming—and intended to use it for her own ends. “Databases. Records. Some stuff we have in-house access to, other times we have to make phone calls, wave our badges under people’s noses, occasionally kiss a little ass. Why?”

Nettie hesitated for a moment, then plunged ahead. “I’m interested in a few details regarding the Dulcey girls’ kidnapping, is all.”

“That so?”

“Bridgett—”

“Stop.” Nettie went silent. Bridgett took a sip of coffee before she went on. “Listen to me very carefully, Nettie. This is not our case anymore. If we’re being honest, it never really was. We’ve already pushed the boundaries, and we only got away with it because endangered children were involved. Now that they’re not, well—”

Nettie’s sigh was audible through the phone connection. “Okay, look. It’s not really the Dulcey girls I’m interested in. What I really want is some stuff related specifically to Jacob Brentshaw. I—”

“Brentshaw is dead, Nettie. We’ve covered this.”

“Don’t give me that crap.” Nettie’s voice had gone ice-cold. “If you really believed that, you’d never have contacted me about the Dulcey kidnapping in the first place, so let’s just cut the shit, Bridgett.”

Bridgett sighed. She’d avoided giving this line of thinking an overabundance of houseroom, but she couldn’t deny her suspicion that something had gone horribly awry within the corrections system. “What exactly is it you want to find out, Nettie?”

Nettie blew out her breath. “Well, let’s start with the reason I want access to the Dulcey case. Did they get a facial sketch from Gina and Heather?”

Bridgett shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably. I could find out.”

“How would you go about that?”

Bridgett’s mouth stretched into a tight little smile. This was the moment she’d been angling for. “What you’re really asking is how you can find out. The answer for the moment is—you can’t. You have to go through me. Want to change that?”

Nettie was silent for a long moment. Finally, she spoke. “I know where you’re going with this, Bridgett, and the answer is that I can’t leave what I’m doing. What you’re offering is something I want in a lot of ways, but I won’t, I can’t—”

“I know you think that,” said Bridgett, “and I think I even know why. But there’s something I want you to consider. You saved the lives of two children last week. If not for you, the perp would have got his tire fixed and gone back to find Gina missing and Heather still trying to claw her way out. He’d have most likely killed Heather, and Gina would never have made it out of the woods. You single-handedly saved two little girls. How often does that actually happen in your current job?”

“Okay, not often—but it’s not like it’s something you do every day, either.”

“The point remains that there’s more than one way to help people, and honey, you’ve got a gift. You’re a one-in-a-million talent. Can you honestly say that about what you’re doing now?”

Nettie snorted. “I’m not even sure that’s a thing with what I’m doing now. Still—”

“I know it’s not. Oh, I’m aware that you’re an outstanding paramedic, because every damn person I’ve come across that’s worked with you gives rave reviews. Still, there’s a limit to what that means. You’re obviously better than most, but at a job that thousands of people do, and do at least reasonably well. What I’m telling you is that you’ve got a god-given natural aptitude for something that damn few people can do at all. I’ve got departmental training and years of experience, but if I had to choose between the two of us for someone to pick out the right clue from a heap of information and extrapolate to a logical conclusion—well, fuck. I’d pick you.”

“I—” Nettie seemed to trip over her words. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll think over what I said. I meant every word.”

“Fair enough. In the meantime, can you help me run some stuff down?”

Bridgett sighed. “I shouldn’t. We’d be sticking our noses in where we have no business. Tell me what you’re looking for, Nettie. I reserve the right to say no.”

“Okay. From the Dulcey case, I want to know if a sketch was taken. If it was, can you get a digital copy?”

Bridgett thought for a moment. “I sort of have an, um—an in with Latisha Miller. I could probably get it that way. I have to think they took one.”

“Also, can you find out if anyone showed the girls pics of Brentshaw?”

“I’m sure they didn’t. Why would they? That’s a closed case. Nettie, this is dangerous territory at best.”

Nettie heaved another sigh. “Okay. I have a list of names here from the old files. Known associates and relatives of Brentshaw. Can you run them and find out which ones are still alive, and their current information? Phone numbers, addresses, all that?”

Bridgett sat bolt upright. “Now hold on there, cowgirl.”

“What, for chrissakes?”

“What precisely are you planning to do with this information?”

“Look it over. Try to narrow it down to likely accomplice candidates. See if I can get some insight into who might have been helping him—and if I’m right, who might be helping him now. You don’t seriously think he hoofed it all the way to the nearest bus stop, do you?”

Bridgett rubbed her eyes. “No. I’m pretty convinced he had help, or we’d have corralled him. But I’m also not sold that your Brentshaw theory isn’t all wet.”

“It’s still worth looking into, and I’m not even doing it on your time. What’s your problem, exactly?”

“My problem is what you’re likely to pull. If I get this info for you, I want your word that you’re not going to be tracking these people down. This is a damn dangerous road, do you hear what I’m saying? If you think you’ve got something, you don’t go off and pursue it on your own. You come to me with it. Are we clear?”

“Crystal.” Nettie’s tone was sour.

“Okay, said Bridgett. “Text me the names, and I’ll pull the info and get back to you. Anything else?”

“Yeah—but you’re not gonna like it.”

“If I don’t like it, I can tell you to go to hell.”

Nettie burst out laughing at this, and Bridgett joined in, easing the tension a notch.

Nettie took a deep breath. “Any chance of getting the prison records of Brenshaw’s death?”

Bridgett froze for a moment, thinking hard. She took a sip of coffee before she answered. “Maybe,” she said slowly. “But it might not be that simple. This is one of those things that’d probably require an agent to visit the facility. Someone with a flair for ass-kissing, because they’re not going to like the insinuation that they might have fucked up somehow. I don’t have the authority to make them cooperate with us. Miller might, but no way is she going to use it based on what we have. Worse, it’s not local. He was killed in the high security facility in Tucson.”

“So no.”

“So not at the moment. You’d have to be able to provide real evidence that Brentshaw is in fact not dead, or it’s most likely a wasted trip.”

“Okay,” said Nettie. “I guess that’s where we start. If you can get me a look at the artist’s sketch, and run the names I’m gonna text in a few minutes, we can go from there.”

“Sounds good. Remember what I said, Nettie. About everything. We’ll talk soon.”

On to Chapter Thirteen!

Note from JetBoy: Friends, I’m delighted to present a new erotic story from hornykate — her first in many years, far as I know. She turned out some lovely tales back in the day for Leslita, several of which can be found in our Archive. She was on a real streak for a few months, then vanished. I was one of her biggest cheerleaders at the time, so it was a genuine thrill to receive the story you see below. 

One complication, however: hornykate seems to have vanished once more. I’ve not had a response to multiple emails, and have no idea if she’s even seen the final draft I sent her. But since she did submit the story with the desire to see it posted, I’ve chosen to make this version public, with the understanding that she can request that it be revised or taken down at any time.

Thank you for your beautiful story, Kate. Hope I’ve done it justice… and I also hope to hear from you again some day. 

***

By hornykate

My dear darling daughter,

I’ve read somewhere about how writing a letter, even one that will never be sent, can be cathartic. I think it’s time for me to compose such a letter. I’m not sure you’ll ever read it, but it will be good for me to get these thoughts and impressions set down in print.

You’re now twelve years old, just beginning to find your own way in the world. You have your very own girlfriend, along with the freedom to explore your own sexuality, to walk life’s roads with new people, new friends, and, yes, new lovers.

I hope you have many lovers, whether male or female. That doesn’t mean I want you to be promiscuous. Instead, I want you to experience the bohemian way of life, the life I’d always wanted for myself. To be confident, courageous, and flirtatious. To fully explore your erotic side, like a character from an Anais Nin story.

But let me get to the point of this letter. I want to explain to you, and myself, how I started out as a mother who loved you with undying affection, then found myself feeling something more. Without meaning or expecting to, I fell completely in love with you. .

Let me tell you about your father. He was French (still is, I expect), a traveling artist with whom I had a brief but passionate affair. One night, we threw caution to the winds after a bottle of wine, declared our love for one another, and, through our unprotected union that night, created you.

Unfortunately, as soon as he found out I was carrying his child, he fled back to the country of his birth, and there he remains. If you meet him in later life, be kind and forgiving. He wasn’t a bad man. But he did leave us, and then we were our own – just you and me.

Now I want to write about my love for you.

I adored you from the moment you came into being, of course. You were my little miracle. My eighth wonder of the world. My alpha, my omega, my all. I felt incapable of containing the love I felt. It overwhelmed me. Sometimes it was frightening, but mostly I was filled with unbounded joy, as if you were an elixir that gave me an unshakable sense of self. There’s a quote from Love Labour’s Lost that always stuck with me: “When love speaks, the voice of all the gods make heaven drowsy with the harmony.” That’s how I felt.

But I loved you even before you were born. I loved you in my womb, I loved you in my heart, my soul, everything that constituted who I am. My very DNA was filled with love for you. I believe you existed before you were even conceived – and I adored you then. too.

As a little girl, you would often come to my bed at night. Sometimes I’d lie awake, wanting you to join me. Some nights you did, other nights you didn’t.

On those nights you shared my bed, I found enormous satisfaction in lulling you back to sleep. You would lie there – restless, even fidgety – and I’d be above you, resting on an elbow, doing my best to coax you back into the land of Nod. I’d stroke your face with the backs of my fingers, caress your ears, your neck, your shoulders. I’d kiss your forehead, your cheeks, your nose. Sometimes, I felt a strange impulse to kiss you in other places, too, but of course, I didn’t.

Even when you were a toddler, I realized there was something inappropriate about my feelings for you and how I indulged them. The few times I kissed your lips and allowed it to linger, I remonstrated with myself that I shouldn’t, really. A mother wasn’t meant to kiss her child like that. Then I’d tell myself it was just a maternal impulse… and honestly, what harm could there possibly be in a mother’s kisses? I was never completely certain about the right and wrong of it, but still took immense pleasure in the sensation of your sweet lips against mine.

Then you turned seven.

You actually helped me make your birthday cake. It was a two-layered chocolate sponge that we filled with whipped cream and strawberry jam, and decorated, with wild abandon, with chocolate ganache, chocolate buttons, and all sorts of crazy sugared decorations. We had such fun! I still think back to that day, warmed inside by the joy it brought us.

I suspect an extra-large helping of cake contributed to you feeling restless that night. And so you came to me. But before that, I remember lying in bed, waiting for you to slowly open my door, to tiptoe across the room and slip into my bed. I remember. I remember as if it were only yesterday.

I’ll also confess here and now, in this letter that will never be sent, that I ached for you. I wanted you. You were just seven years old. Still, I longed for you. And you came.

I heard the door, the familiar high-pitched whine of squeaky hinges. The light padding of feet, you clambering onto the bed, me pushing the covers down. And then you were in my arms, and I held you like I never wanted to let go. You were my strength and my weakness.

I’d chosen to sleep in the nude that evening, and when I asked if you wanted to be naked too, you didn’t reply, just took your oversized t-shirt off, leaving you in Hello Kitty knickers.

You know how much I love you as a mother, of course… but there’s more, much more to my love than meets the eye. That’s the reason I’m writing this letter, to confess, to open my soul and reveal all manner of inner truths.

You see, my darling, I was sexually attracted to you. I think I always have been. Certainly for some years. The beauty of your face, the flawless lines and curves of your body.

Remember the red two-piece swimsuit you wore when you were five? That was as much for my pleasure as yours. I loved watching you frolic around the garden, running through the sprinkler and getting wet, the water running in rivulets down your body, droplets that remained like jewels on your skin, only enhancing your fairytale beauty. Did I want to be your lover, even then? I think so, even if I had yet to understand the true nature of my feelings.

Now there you were, sharing Mommy’s bed, wearing nothing but cute underpants. I stroked your face, your shoulders, your flat chest. I was delighted by your tiny nipples, how quickly they responded to my touch. I felt them stiffen, ever so slightly. I kissed one, then the other. I licked them. I gently took one between my teeth, then raised my head to meet your surprised gaze. I told you how much I loved you, how beautiful you were.

Then I kissed your mouth. It was a motherly kiss, I told myself. But it wasn’t. I wanted it to be more, a lover’s kiss. I longed for you to respond. And on this night, you did. As my lips parted, so did yours, and our tongues touched. I suppose it’s a cliché to describe such a pivotal, breathtaking moment as being like an electric shock, but I can’t think of any words that describe it better.

My hand rested on your hip, but what I really wanted was to touch between your legs. I ached for sexual contact, but at the same time, I was genuinely fearful – of your response, of the consequences of my actions, of how it might affect our relationship. So instead, I began to run my hand up and down your leg, steadily moving higher until I was stroking the softness of my little girl’s thigh.

I was taken by surprise when you began to slowly spread your legs. Our eyes met, and I saw something in them that stole my breath away. It was a needful look, as if you hungered for more of Mommy’s touches. Was that really what you wanted, or was my imagination running away with me?

I got my answer when you reached down to take my hand, pressing it to your tummy. The tips of my fingers were less than an inch away from my secret, forbidden desire.

How to describe the excitement I felt at that moment? No words could do it justice.

It was raining, I remember. My window was open, and I could hear the patter of rain on the leaves, on the windowsill. My senses were so alive right then that every drop seemed to make itself felt. That’s when I  touched you there for the first time. I touched your slit through your underpants, gently stroking up and down, feeling the warmth of your little-girl cunt underneath.

It was a beautiful moment, one that had me glowing inside. But I wanted this to be more than just my own experience, I wanted you to feel it too. I wanted you to know pleasure, to share this bliss.

Almost before I had the chance to think about what I was doing, I began to nuzzle your flat chest again… but this time it was more than a mother’s playful kisses. Now I was making love to you, showering your childish body with the same lustful attention I might lavish on a woman.

Did you understand that I was showing you a whole new kind of love? Were you conscious of the difference? It seemed so to me. I heard it in the way you whispered, “Yes, Mommy, yes!” while I was kissing, licking, sucking your penny-sized nipples. I felt your fingers twine through my hair as I trailed kisses down your body, lips brushing each ridge of your rib cage, your belly button, your tummy, stopping and lingering at the cleft of your sex, still gently stroking it through the soft cotton.

I was in a trance, mesmerized by your beauty, by my dizzying love for you, by my hunger for you. And that night, I confess, that hunger overcame all. Giving you every chance to stop me, I slowly, slowly tugged your panties down and off, and it felt like a symbolic event of gargantuan proportion.

I could hardly believe it was happening at the time, but I lay down before you, paused to draw in a noseful of that enchanting little-girl scent… and kissed your cunt. Yes, I kissed you there. And just as unbelievably, you drew your thighs even farther apart, and I gazed in awe as my precious child opened herself up to me. So I kissed you there again, running my tongue along your slit. With my fingers I parted your outer lips, those sweet puffy outer lips, then covered your opening with my mouth. I was stroking your thighs, feeling the firm flesh, taut and unblemished.

I felt your hips move in response, gently at first: a clenching of the muscles, a slight twitching of the legs, then a whimper escaping your lips. I urged you on, the pressure of my tongue increasing little by little, your motions becoming more urgent.

Raising my head from between your legs, I whispered to you, my precious girl. Saying how much I loved you, how much I wanted you. Then I returned to my work, applying my tongue to the tiny jewel of your clit.

There I was, literally making love to you, to my child. By then, I’d crossed the line of what most would see as the boundary between right and wrong, but at that moment, such distinctions meant nothing to me. All I cared about was your happiness

I heard your breathing quicken, become short and staccato, and knew my little girl was experiencing sexual pleasure for the very first time. I was thinking, Come for me, baby. Come for Mummy, let Mummy give you the good feeling, the special feeling.

And just like that, your body stiffened for a few seconds, a long, drawn-out cry breaking from your lips. Then you relaxed, sinking back into the sheets as if drained of all energy, legs slowly closing as I sat up. I could hear your breathing; heavier, more laboured, like you’d just run to me across the park… and I rejoiced. My little girl had experienced her first orgasm, and I’d been the one to make it happen.

I took you in my arms, brushing your cheek with a tender kiss. With my left hand I caressed your back, your neck, ran my fingers through your hair – a mother’s touch. But my right hand drifted down to stroke and cup your bottom, fingers straying between those angel-soft cheeks to touch your rosebud. This was purely sexual; nothing maternal about it, though it was done with all the love in my heart.

That was when I knew this couldn’t be a one-time thing. If you were willing, my beautiful child, then from that day forward, the two of us would be lovers.

You shyly asked me why I’d kissed you ‘down there’ and at first I was at a loss as to how best to respond. Finally I asked “Did you enjoy it?”

You gave a bashful nod. “It was nice, Mummy.”

“I’m glad, baby girl,” I murmured, cradling you to me. “I did that to you because… well, I wanted to love you in a new way. A different way.”

Your brow furrowed slightly. “Different…?”

I chose my words carefully, knowing our relationship was at a potential crossroads. “You already know how much I love you more than anyone or anything. The kind of love a mum naturally has for her child. When I hold you…” I cuddle you to me, nuzzling your neck. “…you feel that love, don’t you?” I gave your ear a playful nibble.

“Yes, Mummy!” you squealed, giggling and squirming deliciously in my arms.

“Good. Well, tonight, I wanted to do more than just love you. So… I made love to you. Remember how we kissed just now?”

“Uh-huh,” you said, nodding eagerly. “I liked those kisses. Can we do them all the time?”

“I’m glad to hear you ask for that, baby girl. It’s how lovers kiss. And that’s how I want to be with you.”

A glimpse of understanding appeared in your eyes. “You mean… like girlfriends?”

My heart was pounding, knowing we’d reached the point of no return. “Yes… yes, that’s right. See, I’m in love with you, dearest. I’ll always, always be your mum, but I’d like it very much if we could be girlfriends, too. Then we could share those nice kisses and touch each other and do all the things I just did to you whenever we like. But only if that’s what you want, okay?”

You were silent for a long while, but finally gave a thoughtful nod. “I’d like that, Mummy.”

I went from frightened to exhilarated in an instant. Hugging you to me, I whispered, “Oh, my darling child, you’ve made me the happiest mother in the world.” I buried my lips in your sweet-smelling hair.

“Mummy?” you said in a whisper, as though we were in danger of being overheard.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Could you maybe… do it to me some more?”

Oh, my precious daughter. We came together in a tender kiss. This time you were first to respond with your tongue, and I could have wept from joy as it hesitantly touched mine. The kiss soon deepened, and we melted into each other’s arms.

My love was a boundless ocean, my love was a poem that filled a thousand volumes, my love held the universe. All that and more was in our kiss.

When our lips finally parted, I began to nuzzle my way downward again – your chin, your throat, your chest, and lower; your tummy, your hips, your legs, then down to your toes, kissing each one like I was performing a ritual. Finally I lay between your parted legs, stroking your most private of places. And like the gatekeeper of a secret garden, you let me in.

I was making love to you for the second time, and it felt different. It was different. Because you’d asked me to.

Should I have justified myself that way? You wanted it, but did that give me the right to go down on my seven-year-old child? Probably not. No, definitely not. But I’d already fallen down the rabbit hole. And I looked up at you as you looked down at me, and when I kissed your smooth slit, you closed your eyes and your head fell back on the pillow, wearing an expression of purest bliss.

I kissed your cunt. I licked your cunt. I made love to your cunt. You were my daughter, my little girl, the life force I’d carried for nine months, that I’d fed and sustained, and painfully but gratefully given birth to, the little girl with whom I’d made a cake a few hours earlier. Now there I was, loving you, wanting you to feel the pleasure of sexual release, doing my utmost to make you come. Yes, this was for my pleasure, for my joy, my ecstasy, but that could only be realized through your pleasure, joy and ecstasy.

And you came.

This time, the signs of impending orgasm were more obvious, as though our first time was a trial run, a practice. Your legs threatened to close, but kept springing open like a bear trap in reverse, your back arched, your short breaths punctured the air, your hips moved forward and back, forward and back, I felt your hands on my head, and I was thinking of how I wanted you to want me like I wanted you, to need me like I needed you. And in the midst of these erratic thoughts, you came. You came delicately and beautifully, legs spread wide for me.

Then we held each other again, sharing a few deep, juicy kisses. You asked me about the unusual flavour of my lips, and I explained that you were tasting yourself, your essence. “I like it,” you whispered.

We settled in for the night, your arms around my neck, our bare bodies nestled together beneath the damp sheets, and you fell asleep. I lay awake for a few minutes, happier than I’ve ever been.

There. I’ve written enough about our first time. If I carry on I feel I’ll become mawkish and sentimental, and I feel as if I’ve already gushed about you enough.

Then there are the many, many times you and I have made love since then. The last five years have seen you ripen into a passionate, giving lover who knows every way to make her mummy feel good. But that’s for another day. .

I’ll want to write more, that much I know. This exercise did me a world of good. Yes, it was cathartic. Yes, it helped. Oh, my baby girl, my love, my lover. This story is far from over.

Love, Mummy

xxxooo

The End

by Emma

Chapter Three: My Tushy’s Cute, so She Licked It

The garage door rolled open with a purr, and when we slid inside I felt like I was unexpectedly being let in on the greatest secret of my life. The moment the engine stopped, the house’s side door burst open.

“Mommmyyy!” came the high-pitched squeal, just before a blur of blue and pink barreled toward the car like a heat-seeking missile of Care Bear dopamine.

I barely got the door open before she launched herself inside—and into me.

“Hi!” she chirped, already wrapping herself around me. I instantly thought of a cat in heat, which only thrilled me more. “Are you Mommy’s date? You’re so pretty. You smell like cocoa, I love it—can I hug you? I’m hugging you!”

She was already doing it.

The girl was in socks, wearing just a baby-blue hoodie with floppy bunny ears and the tiniest undersized pair of ruffled panties I’d ever seen. Her thighs were strong for such a tiny thing, but her skin was soft and warm.

And she smelled so, so unmistakably horny.

I already knew the smell, obviously—I’ve been horny since I first had a crush on Ms, Wicker, my kindergarten teacher, back when I was eight. This girl smelled like she spent every waking hour on the edge, including the one that had just passed.

“Mmm… you’re gonna love it here… Oh, I hope Mommy adopts you, so we can be sis—”

“Bunny,” Miss Ashcroft said lightly, stepping out and smoothing her hands along the child’s panty-covered bottom, like it was simply the most natural think in the world to touch a little girl there by way of greeting. “This is Lily, our special guest for the evening. Now, what do we say to our guests…?”

Bunny looked up at me with sparkling eyes and a dizzying grin.

“Welcome to Lollipop Lane, Lily,” she said sweetly, bouncing a little. “Do you like my tail?” She bounced out of the car and spun round. A bunny-tail plug peeked out from the back of a hole sewn into her undies, white and puffy and wagging as she wiggled her hips.

It was a butt plug. A tiny, meant-for-young-girls butt plug.

Reader, I loved her.

♡ ⚢ ♡ ⚢ ♡

The door from the garage led straight into a house that didn’t feel like a house—more like a boutique hotel, curated by someone deeply, outrageously refined. Velvet drapes at every tall window, crown molding, soft warm light glowing from chandeliers, the walls painted in deep wine red and sultry creams, and every piece of furniture looked like it had been designed for a church gathering one hour, BDSM sinning the next.

My soaked zombie-girl socks made little squeaking noises on the marble.

“Come here, daughter mine.” Miss Ashcroft set her keys in a porcelain dish and turned, cupped Bunny’s face in one elegant hand, and kissed her. Not a peck. A kiss. Slow. With tongue.

Bunny moaned into it, rising to her tiptoes.

My pussy ached so hard I thought my knees would buckle. I watched, frozen, hypnotized, as Bunny melted into that kiss like sugar on the tongue. The way Miss Ashcroft held her so firm and yet elegantly, it sent a shiver straight through the filthiest corners of my mind. This wasn’t just taboo. It was designed to obliterate the rules of normalcy, a sin to be flaunted without the possibility of blinking.

What remained of my conscience screamed that this was wrong-wrong-WRONG—but my pussy whispered, is it, though? I had to bite my own lip just to keep from making a noise. I couldn’t look away. I didn’t want to.

I wanted more. I wanted in. My conscience could go jump in the nearest lake. Without a second thought, I banished it.

When they parted, Miss Ashcroft purred, “Show our beautiful guest to the bath. Poor thing—she’s chilled to the bone and needs a moment.”

“Yes, Mommy! C’mon, Lily!” Bunny seized my hand, her fingers warm and slightly sticky, and practically dragged me down the hallway. “Bathroom’s this way! It’s my favorite room, besides the cuddle corner and the smut nook!”

“The what?”

“Noooothing! You’ll see! Now, let’s get you out of those wet clothes and into something cozy! You want bubbles? I hope you like bubbles. You want me to stay and rub your—?”

I nearly tripped over an oriental rug as I entered the bathroom.

The place was insane.

The room was a fantasy in and of itself. There was a giant clawfoot tub big enough to sleep in, already full, steam rising from the freshly drawn water, bubbles piled high like whipped cream. Everything smelled like roses. A tray floated on the water’s surface, laden with delicate soaps, pink bath salts, and, casual as a kiss, two waterproof vibrators nestled in placement grooves like utensils.

“Okay,” I whispered. “This is so not an Airbnb.”

Bunny clapped her hands like she was summoning a puppy. “C’mon, clothes off! Hup-hup! Strip! Hang ‘em right there—oh, you are a zombie princess. Look at you, you’re so pretty-pale! Let’s get you all clean and pink and happy. Especially, um, downstairs. Know what I mean?”

“I… I don’t usually…”

She skipped over to the tub and plucked one of the vibrators from the tray with reverent glee. “These are waterproof and super good, and since you’re a guest you can absolutely give yourself cummies if you want, Mommy said so.” Then she leaned in close, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, lips brushing my ear. “You’re safe here, Lily. Make yourself feel as good as a sleepy kitten. You don’t have to be anything at Lollipop Lane except yummy. Okay, now I’ve gotta go help Mommy and see if she wants any more kisses anywhere.”

And with that, the hyper-happy-horny girl was gone.

I stripped slowly, dizzy with nerves and arousal, hanging my drenched zombie-girl outfit on a hook shaped like a swan. The art on the walls didn’t calm me much. One renaissance-era painting showed a woman being drowned by several mermaid sirens. Beside it was a Japanese manga image of a crying, screaming girl being mounted and licked by a pack of wolves. It was dark and poetic and horrible, and I couldn’t look away.

Carefully climbing into the tub, I sank into the steaming water with a moan, both of my nipples peeking just above the line like misbehaving children. Heh. My nipples are like me and Bunny, I mused.

Almost immediately, the door creaked open.

“Hiiii!” Bunny sing-songed, peeking around the frame with wide, innocent eyes. “I swear I wouldn’t normally interrupt, but I kinda forgot something.”

I couldn’t help but smile. There was something so cute about her fake-shyness, the little perv. “And what would that be, Bunny?”

“I reaaally have to go tinkle.”

“Oh…well…”

“I promise you won’t see my private parts!” she chirped, shimmying out of her bunny-ears hoodie for some reason. After all, she wasn’t even wearing panties underneath. “You can peek if you want, but I just gotta…” She straddled the toilet backwards like it was a barstool, her cute tanlined bottom facing me, the tip of her bunny tail grazing a dimple on the left of her spine.

There was a fresh pink bite mark on her left cheek. A red lipstick kiss on the right.

“Ahhhh,” she moaned exaggeratedly as she peed. “Hey! You’re not peeking, are you?”

“You know I am!” I blurted, cheeks burning. I’d never watched another girl, well… go.

“It’s okay.” She looked over her shoulder and smiled. “I like that. What do you think, should I…?” She pointed a finger at the roll of triple-ply Charmin, her head bent quizzically. “I mean, Mommy likes it when I don’t, a lot of girls do, but we have guests tonight…”

I blinked at her. “You’re… not embarrassed?”

“Um, no?” She looked at me like I’d just asked if the moon was embarrassed about glowing. “I mean, I used to be. Then Mommy told me it was beautiful and that it meant I was healthy and hydrated and excited. Now it just feels… normal to be perverted.” She beamed. “Kinky, but normal! You should drink lots of water, by the way, that keeps your tinkle from being too strong. Unless you’re into that. Some girls are. Mommy’s not, but I have a friend on the Lane who licks right after anyone—”

“Ohmigod!” I squeaked, hiding my blush with soapy palms.

“Uh-huh!” She hopped off the potty and leaned toward me, down on both knees, chin on the tub’s edge, eyes sparkling. “Don’t knock it till you’ve been held down by two babysitters and told to be a tushy-girl while one of them licks your bottom and calls you a pretty tinkle princess.”

My jaw dropped.

Bunny giggled harder. “Aww, you’re so pretty when you’re embarrassed! I know you’re shy, but don’t worry, I just know you’ll feel safe enough to show your real side any second now.”

I didn’t know if I wanted to hide… or drink a gallon of water.

Just then, a knock on the doorframe. “Bunny.” Miss Ashcroft’s voice. Stern.

Bunny froze. “Yes, Mommy?” she squeaked.

“Down, darling. Not right now. Our dinner guests will be arriving shortly.”

Bunny sighed, dramatically wilting like a flower denied sunlight. “But Moooommyyyy, she was gonna let me touch her princess paaarts!”

“I’m sure she was. And she’ll still be here after hors d’oeuvres. And so will her princess parts.”

Bunny grumbled and pouted her way out of the bathroom, wiggling her fingers to wish me bye-bye as she retreated. That cute bunny-tail butt plug wriggled to and fro as she walked.

Miss Ashcroft’s voice followed after her, cool and commanding: “Towel warmers, my darling. And let her borrow some of your clothes, appropriate for the table. She’s a guest, not a snack. Yet.”

I stared at the door. Then down at my nipples, still just above the bubbles.

Then back at the sex toys floating in their tray.

Then up. Because Miss Ashcroft hadn’t left.

She was standing just inside the doorway, arms folded, her smile subtle.

“I find,” she said, her voice unhurried and rich, “that there is nothing more tragic than repression in the presence of opportunity. Lily, you need to understand that no appetites are shamed here, no curiosities discouraged. If it harms no one, and pleases the self, then in this house, it is welcomed.”

Her eyes lingered on me, then flicked to the vibrators. “Yes,” she murmured, as if I’d asked the question aloud. “That includes what’s within reach. Even now. Especially now, in the presence of others.”

She walked to the bathroom mirror, her bare feet padding on the tile, then began to disrobe.

I couldn’t look away.

“You may think me strange, Lily,” she said lightly, unbuttoning her blouse and dropping it casually to the side. No bra. I could only, just barely, see the outer curve of one breast. She applied fresh lipstick—the same deep wine-red as the kiss on Bunny’s bottom. “But I prefer to be dressed with intention, and then undone only when the moment deserves it.”

She unzipped and slipped her skirt off next, her ass bare but far a fuck-me-and-be-nasty g-string.

God.

Her ass was perfect. An absolute ten, curvy and feminine and soft. My hands itched to fondle it.

She continued to dabble powder across her cheekbones as she spoke. “You watched Bunny when she came back in, didn’t you?” she asked, gesturing with one hand towards the toilet.

I swallowed. “Yes, Miss Ashcroft.”

“Did it excite you?”

“…lots…”

“Good girl. I want you to imagine kissing my daughter, Lily. I want you to remember how it felt when you saw me kiss her. I took her soft little tongue in my mouth and I sucked it, the same way she did to me.”

My heart pounded.

“I want you to imagine how that bunny-tail plug feels when it is pressed against her tiny star. I was the first person to penetrate her there, Lily. I licked her bottom hole, then I fingered her there…and when the time came for toys, I used the two you see there in the tray.”

Miss Ashcroft bent forward slightly to examine the curve of her lashes in the mirror, and that motion—that motion, bending forward while my eyes were locked on her nearly bare ass—sent a surge of liquid heat flooding between my legs.

My hand moved without thinking, reaching for the smaller wand with its silicone tip, already glistening from the steam. I lowered it gently beneath the bubbles, deciding in a heartbeat that I was done trying to be reserved, done with pretending that I wasn’t just as horny as Miss Ashcroft and her daughter.

I remained silent, focused on guiding the wand’s humming tip until it brushed the pucker of my anus.

Without even looking, Miss Ashcroft knew what I was up to. “I love it when my little girl comes from attention paid to her precious little bottom, Lily. I love it so much…”

I carefully pressed the toy into my rectum, and this time I didn’t try to stifle my rapturous moan.

Miss Ashcroft didn’t turn. She didn’t need to.

“It’s well known,” she said smoothly, now tending to her eyelashes with flawless precision, “that girls who deny themselves become brittle, breakable things, while lovely girls who indulge their cravings tend to blossom, like the precious flowers they are.”

The toy vibrated, and I circled it once, twice, moving around the taut rim of my nether hole. My body shook until the very bubbles trembled. A whimper escaped me; my mouth fell open.

“Would you like to blossom for me, Lily?”

I couldn’t speak.

“Would you like to lose yourself completely to me and become a lovely little girl who just comes… and comes… and comes…?”

I was nearly crying.

She turned slightly. A single emerald eye glittered. “Then don’t be shy. Blossom for me, little one.”

The toy slipped inside my bottom even further.

And I blossomed.

The wand buzzed deeper still, breaching me with a slow, greedy pulse that sent lightning through my spine until both hips lifted out of the water, bubbles sliding off my gleaming skin, my feet flexing like a ballet dancer caught in mid-spasm. Miss Ashcroft didn’t speak, just watched, the fingers of one hand gently rubbing her trimmed and flawlessly shaped mons, those eyelashes fanning at half-lid.

There I was, a girl just turned thirteen, stark naked in a tubful of steaming water and soap bubbles, reaming my anus with a vibrating sex toy. There I was, on display for a mysterious woman I barely knew. There I was, as exposed and vulnerable as a girl could be, going off like a firework in the most spectacular orgasm imaginable, shaking violently as hard jolts of pleasure ripped through me, clamping down hard enough to send a shriek tumbling from my lips.

Bringing myself to climax was normally a moment of complete privacy. Not this time, though. I wanted Miss Ashcroft to see, wanted to put on a sex show for this lovely woman while she caressed her slit with two impeccably manicured fingers. I managed to slide the vibe an inch deeper, and my asshole fluttered around it, taking my ecstasy to its peak.

I sobbed, calling her name without meaning to, then went limp, the very bubbles trembling in the aftermath of my release.

Miss Ashcroft’s smile widened just slightly, elegant, somehow terrifying in its approval. Turning slightly toward the slightly open door, she called, “Bunny? Come help me dry your new sister off.”

“Yaaay!” Within seconds, Bunny bounded in, arms loaded with a bundle of warm towels, smiling like she’d just won the lottery.

Between the two of them, I was pampered from head to toe. Miss Ashcroft and her daughter towel-dried me with careful, practiced hands, then Bunny let her towel fall as she dropped to her knees, her face inches from my pussy. I was dripping wet there, but not from the bath water.

“I knew it!” Bunny cried. “Your clitty is just as big as mine!” She gazed up at me with beseeching eyes. “Can I lick it while Mummy dries you off?”

Would Miss Ashcroft approve? I wasn’t sure. “Oh, you d-don’t have to—”

“Nonsense,” Miss Ashcroft smoothly interrupted. “This is hospitality. We want to make you happy. Open your arms, Lily. Let it happen.”

And I did.

Bunny dove in with glee, tongue extended before her lips even touched my pussy. With her first taste, she moaned as if she was the one getting licked. Her tiny hands were gripping and spreading my bottom open while she latched onto my clit like a nursing infant to her mommy’s nipple. She licked in tight, rapid flicks, then sucked, then flattened her tongue and hmmmmed, and that had me buzzing all over. I was trembling, still damp from the bath, a fire smoldering between my legs. Miss Ashcroft was calmly patting my hair with the towel like it was the most natural thing in the world to dry me while her daughter teased my clitoris.

I wondered if she was about to bring me off again when Miss Ashcroft said, “There. That’s done,” and Bunny immediately bounded to her feet, licking her lips.

Miss Ashcroft, studied me, then gave a satisfied nod. “Now that you’ve been thoroughly adored, let’s make you presentable. We’ve washed the outside world off, and it’s time to decide what kind of girl you’re going to be tonight.”

They led me to a vanity table that looked like something stolen from a vintage cabaret. There, they helped me dress. No, that’s not quite it. Instead, they helped to curate me. Every item Bunny selected from her overflowing closet seemed a size too small for me, intentionally so: pink-striped cotton panties that clung like they were painted on, a pleated little cheer skirt I would not be able to sit in with any sense of modesty, and a soft white cotton tank-tee that barely covered my breasts, and would reveal them completely if I raised both arms. My nipples were all but visible through the thin fabric – not surprising, really, considering how stiff they were. Anyone who looked my way would be sure to notice, unless they were peering up that tiny skirt instead.

Miss Ashcroft even adorned me with a deft touch of teenybopper-Lolita makeup. Bunny lent a hand, dusting shimmer across my cheeks while Miss Ashcroft selected the perfect lip gloss.

After a while, Miss Ashcroft sat back to appraise her work. “There.”

“Mmmm… it’s perfect,” Bunny said. “Oh, Lily, you look positively scrumptious!”

Reaching for a hand mirror with an ornate mother-of-pearl frame, Miss Ashcroft gave me a smile that seemed to warm my very soul. “Lily… meet Lily.” And she held the mirror before me.

I studied my reflection.

Definitely not like a young adult.

Not a child, either.

Something in-between. Something that ought to have been downright illegal…and very naughty.

I’d become one of them: a little lost girl who liked getting found and fondled. A novice member of the Lollipop Lane community. Home, at long last.

When Miss Ashcroft gently fastened a pink collar around my neck, I didn’t resist.

In fact, I giggled.

♡ ⚢ ♡ ⚢ ♡

Bunny was adjusting my skirt for the umpteenth time, tugging the hem down with exaggerated concern—though she was clearly just fondling my bottom and making my pussy more noticeable on purpose. Her eyes sparkled, and she was buzzing.

As for me, I couldn’t stop smiling. A couple of hours earlier, I was a scorned, bedraggled teen in the freezing rain, lost in dark thoughts, torn between returning home to parents who despised me or throwing myself into the path of a speeding car. Now I was bubbling over with glee, feeling more alive than I had in years as I continued to steal glances at my image in the wall mirror in Bunny’s room. We were waiting for Miss Ashcroft to summon us downstairs when her guests arrived.

“You’re so pretty now,” Bunny breathed, nose practically grazing my pussy. “Like… stupid pretty. How old are you?”

I could feel the heat of her breath even through the borrowed panties.

“I…I think I’m thirteen…” In my dazed condition, age was fast becoming a dizzy math problem I couldn’t quite work out.

“I’m twelve,” Bunny said, then fell silent, nibbling at her lower lip as if she had more to say. Her cheeks flushed ever so slightly as she finally came out with it, whispering, “Can I kiss you?”

My heart stopped. I nodded, just a little.

Then she kissed me.

Her mouth was hot and eager and playful, like she’d been waiting forever for that kiss and wanted the whole experience at once. Her tongue brushed mine and her arms twined around my waist, pulling me into her so my skirt rustled against her thighs.

And I kissed her back. Oh my stars, did I ever kiss her. I reached around to cup her cute bubble butt, allowing my hands to slip beneath her bunny parka’s hemline, thrilled all over again to be reminded that she was completely bare underneath. Our noses bumped in mid-kiss. “Boop!” I exclaimed, then bumped her the same way, only on purpose.

When we broke apart I was gasping, blushing, alive. I looked at her, she looked at me…and we squealed, holding hands and carrying on with the total lack of shame you’d expect from girls at a slumber party, with no mean grownups around to spoil the fun. We were uncontrollable.

Bunny was jumping up and down like a cartoon character. “OmiGOD you’re such a YUMMY KISSER!” she shrieked.

“You’re a yummy kisser!” I fired back.

“I knew you’d be lots of fun!”

“I didn’t know I’d be—”

Bunny seized my face and kissed me again. I met her gleeful passion, clutching her waist, then her ass, then my middle finger was pressing against the star of her asshole and, yes, I loved it, oh yes, but she loved it even more—pushing back against my fingertip, using both hands to spread her butt open while her tongue was still in my mouth. And just like that, my finger entered her up to the third knuckle, buried in the slippery warmth of Bunny’s rectum.

I was insane with horny-happiness.

When we finally broke apart, she withdrew my middle finger from her bottom and took it into her mouth, sucking the tip like it was the sweetest treat imaginable.

I kissed Bunny yet again, briefly sucking her tongue, then whispered, “Is it always like this?”

Bunny grinned. “Always. The more you give in, the better it is, big sister. You’ll see for yourself soon.”

Miss Ashcroft’s voice echoed down the hall: “Dinner guests arrive in ten minutes, my darlings.”

We didn’t move, not at first. Then I said, “Guess we should…?”

“Hang on,” Bunny whispered. “Just one more kiss…!”

But instead of crushing her mouth to mine like I expected, she dropped to her knees and spun me around, pulling my undies down with a single deft motion. Bunny spread my bottom open with both hands, then her tongue went there, right there between my cheeks… Omigosh, what a delightfully filthy little sister I’d just acquired!

She was pressing her tongue against my most forbidden, never-even-seen-it-in-the-mirror place, and I just about went off in a burst of internal combustion. Her tongue dipped inside, circled my rosebud with a kind of joyful cruelty, then she pushed inward, humming like she was proud of herself for making me shiver. I let out a sound I didn’t recognize as human as she began to lick my anal cleft.

“I love your princess parts…all your yummy, pretty princess parts…” she sighed between licks.

I was whining like a horny puppy. Not from embarrassment, not even from pleasure, but from the unbearable rightness of it—that someone could say something so ridiculous and lewd, yet so tender, and still mean every word.

At that point, I still wasn’t sure where the night would go or what was in store for me.

But I already knew I wasn’t going back to normal, not ever.

On to Chapter Four!

The Story Thus Far

Chapter One: Mallory Kalvornek and her lover Julie Hanson have returned to Bronning, Minnesota, for the first time in years to catch up with friends and family. Meanwhile, their old friend (and occasional sex partner) paramedic Nettie Hastings fights to save a life, her lover Hannah drops by with an unexpected surprise, Terry Wilder grapples with writer’s block… and two little girls living in a trailer park named Heather and Gina are being carefully observed by a hidden stranger.

Chapter Two: Mallory and Julie get together at Nettie’s home with Nettie and her lover Hannah, Nettie’s friend Terry Wilder, Terry’s teen daughter Halee, and Mallory and Julie’s friend (and occasional sex partner) Cindy. Gossip is exchanged, memories shared, and an unexpected attraction between Mallory and Terry Wilder reveals itself. Meanwhile, the mother of the two trailer park girls Heather and Gina goes out for a night on the town, oblivious to the presence of the man spying on her home.

Chapter Three: At Nettie’s place, Nettie and Hannah leave the others to indulge in a bit of romantic pleasure, while Julie and her old friend Cindy get it on with Terry’s teen daughter Halee. As for Mallory, she has repaired to Terry’s place for one of her occasional bouts of heterosexual action. Appetites are indulged, confidences shared. Meanwhile, Heather and Gina are abducted from their trailer home by a mysterious and very scary man.

Chapter Four: At Nettie’s place, four women and Halee Wilder greet the morning after an evening of lesbian abandon. Later that day, Mallory rejoins Julie, Nettie, Cindy and Hannah for a day of fishing. Halee returns home and spends the day upgrading her internet in preparation for promised to be a fun night of video chat sex with her girlfriend Bethany. Meanwhile, Grace and Heather are in the custody of the mysterious man, who seems to takes delight in terrorizing them.

Chapter Five: After their day of fishing, Nettie, Julie, Cindy, Mallory & Hannah engage in a five-woman sexfest inside a tent… and with the use of Cindy’s phone, their old friend and occasional bedmate Emma attends the orgy virtually. In the midst of their abandon, Nettie has a weird, vague memory flashback that leaves her shaken, but she conceals it from the others. Back home, Halee and her new love interest Bethany (Hannah’s daughter) are having long-distance sex via their laptops. 

Chapter Six: Nettie has a heart-to-heart with Hannah about her personal demons. Later, she gets a call from Agent Bridgett Ramscone, who has an unsettling request: for Nettie to go through the documentation of her own childhood kidnapping — and the murder of her sister — as a possible way to gain insight into the abduction of Heather and Gina (who are still being emotionally abused by their kidnapper, but are also taking steps to escape). Nettie is shaken, but agrees to do what she can. 

Chapter Seven: Many years after the fact, submerged memories of Nettie’s kidnapping began to make themselves known — memories of a possible accomplice to the original crime. She shares her thoughts with Bridgett. Meanwhile, Heather and Gina work on a potential escape from their makeshift prison.

Chapter Eight: Nettie unearths more hints that kidnap victims Heather and Gina were abducted by the same man who kidnapped and brutalized Nettie and her deceased sister over a decade ago — but that man was known to have died in prison.  Gina manages to escape captivity. But Heather can’t fit through the opening they dug, and must remain behind. Nettie gets a possible fix on the girls’ captor who, while out and about, gets a flat tire — then he discovers the spare is flat as well. 

Chapter Nine: The man who kidnapped Gina and Heather must get his flat spare tire fixed, not knowing the police have been alerted to him and are searching the area. Nettie, who is also hunting for the man, manages to find his abandoned car — then, some time later, makes an even more startling discovery: little Gina, alone and weeping by an abandoned road. In the meantime, the kidnapper manages to make his escape from the area by phoning a mysterious woman to pick him up.

Chapter Ten: Mallory meets with her mother, Sharon, for the first time in months, but fails to learn the cause of the recent distance between them. Nettie is still obsessed with Jacob Brentshaw, the man who kidnapped her and murdered her sister Annamarie so many years ago, sensing he is also behind the recent kidnapping as well… but can’t get past the fact that Brentshaw was killed in prison. Her actions saved the lives of Gina and Heather, but she remains determined to keep working the case on her own. For the first time, Nettie tells her lover Hannah about her own kidnapping and Annamarie’s death, events she has refused to discuss with anyone for years.

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

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

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

by Rachael Yukey

Would you do it with me
Heal the scars, and change the stars
Would you do it for me
Turn loose the heaven within
Nightwish, 2002

Terry Wilder admired Theresa Fosse’s denim-clad ass as it swayed enticingly across her living room, amused to find himself experiencing a twinge of loss as it disappeared around the corner.

“I made these special,” her voice drifted back to him from the kitchen. “My famous frozen strawberry-kiwi daiquiris. You’re gonna love this.”

Oh, Jesus. Terry made a face, which he smoothed into a bland, pleasant expression at the sound of the freezer door closing, followed by footsteps crossing the linoleum. Theresa appeared again, retracing her steps across the room, this time carrying two tall glasses filled with a pale pink concoction, a straw and a spoon protruding from each. Her ample breasts jiggled fetchingly under her tight Gwar tee-shirt. Somehow, though, Terry found himself somewhat less than fetched.

She handed him his drink, then settled in beside him, pressing her body close. Taking her spoon in hand, she scooped a little of the frozen mixture from the top of her own glass, extending it towards him. Obligingly, Terry opened his mouth, and she slipped the spoon in.

He captured the spoon between his teeth, stifling a grimace at the sticky sweetness of the over-syruped mix. He then took it from her, removed it from his mouth, and made a show of delicately licking both sides with exaggerated strokes of his tongue. It occurred to him that he was going through the motions, playing the game of seduction from long practice, that his heart just wasn’t in it. Anyway, it wasn’t like this was the first time he’d nailed this ditzy broad while her truck driver boyfriend was off on a long haul.

He cast his eyes about the trailer house living room. Pictures of Theresa’s kids adorned the walls, the three in the custody of her ex, and the two she’d had with her current shack job, both of whom she’d fobbed off on her mother for the evening. The remainder of the decor was a study in Early American Rummage Sale.

His own kids were at home. Dawn’s friend Allison and Naomi’s friend Chelsey were both sleeping over, with Halee riding herd on the whole flock. Terry had clarified that she was under no obligation to supervise the sleepover if she didn’t want the responsibility, but Halee had assured him that she’d be just fine.

“Have fun,” she’d told him, knowing precisely where he was going and why, “and try not to knock her up, huh? That guy she’s living with has muscles for brains. You really need to rethink your love life, Dad.”

Sitting here now, Theresa’s perfume overpowering his olfactory senses, her kids staring back at him from the walls, and the intolerable babble from her perpetually-running TV straining the final limits of his endurance, he reflected yet again that Halee’s wisdom greatly exceeded her years. Where did she get that from? Surely not from me, if one is to judge by my present surroundings.

The busty brunette was now shoveling the frozen beverage into her mouth with enthusiasm. Steeling himself, Terry took a tiny sip of his own, already wondering how much he could leave undrunk without Theresa taking offense.

“I guess you’ve heard that Rachael dumped Jay again,” she said, catching Terry off guard.

“I’m sorry—who?”

“You know—Jay Steiders and Rachael Coltrane. They were in your movie, weren’t they?”

Light dawned. “Oh, that Jay and Rachael. Yeah, they were male and female lead in Snakeskin Overshoes. Jay also appeared in the film adaptation of my first best-seller. The Angira Conspiracy, that was. My first movie, his first leading role. A good day for both of us, I’d say.”

He smiled at the memory. “Rachael and Jay were married when we filmed Snakeskin Overshoes; really, the two of them sort of came as a package deal at that point in time. And I suppose I’m vaguely aware that there’s been some turmoil in the ensuing years. But I’m not in contact with either of them, and I’ve no idea the particulars of their current relationship status.”

Theresa was shaking her head. “I don’t see how you could have missed it. Everybody’s talking about it.”

Terry bit his tongue, refraining with difficulty from pointing out that it might be very easy to miss if she’d turn off the goddamn celebrity gossip channels for five minutes at a stretch.

“It’s awful what she keeps doing to him,” Theresa went on. “Sleeping with her director, trying to keep the kids away—it makes me sick.”

Terry smiled a rueful smile. He instructed himself firmly that he’d do better to remain silent, then spoke anyway. “Forgive me, Theresa, but have you considered that you most likely have an incomplete picture of the situation? I spent years rubbing shoulders with people of their status, and the correlation between reality and what gets printed in People Magazine was almost always tenuous at best.”

Theresa blinked a few times, clearly struggling to parse out the sentence he’d just uttered. “Well—she sure doesn’t have much to say about it. If it wasn’t true, wouldn’t she be defending herself?”

Terry shrugged. “I didn’t say it wasn’t true. But consider people you and I both know—Jared and Stacy Logan, for instance. A tumultuous marriage, to put it mildly, and each has plenty to say about the other. Neither of them are entirely wrong. Reality is somewhere in the middle.”

“Yeah, I guess, but—”

“I was on or around the set with Jay and Rachael for months, and developed a rapport. I liked them both personally, and respected them professionally. Neither of them, in my judgement, is a bad person. Relationships can get complicated, as I suspect you know quite well. The life of a celebrity is no less messy than yours or mine. On a side note, I knew Rachael as a fairly private person. That she avoids making the messier details of her personal life public surprises me not at all. It doesn’t mean there isn’t another side to the story.”

Theresa was polishing off the last of her daiquiri, and Terry was surprised to note that he had consumed about three-quarters of his own. The aftertaste remained horrid, but he supposed that some conversations were best endured with a bit of a buzz to take the edge off.

Setting down her empty glass, she crossed her arms and looked at him with narrowed eyes. “Are you feeling all right, Terry? You’re being kind of weird.”

Seeing that what was left of his drink had melted to slushy liquid, Terry tossed the rest of it back and stood. “You know what, Theresa? I’m really not feeling all right. Sorry. Maybe we should take a rain check. Call you?”

Theresa’s mouth tightened, but her tone remained even. “Yeah, sure—call me.”

Terry closed her front door behind him with an enormous sigh of relief.

***

Nettie’s breath was coming in shuddering gasps, her head thrown back; eyes closed. Hannah knelt on the floor of the shower stall, tongue buried between her lover’s sweet lips and flickering furiously. Steaming water cascaded directly on her flaming red hair, pouring in curtains down her face and back. She didn’t seem to notice, or care.

Nettie’s knees almost buckled as a particularly intense wave of pleasure coursed through her body. Her arms shot out, hands pressing against the wall for support. “Oh!” she cried out. “Oh God—OH!”

Then she was crying out over and over, waves crashing on top of waves as her body raced towards orgasm, finally careening over the edge. Her hands dropped from the wall to Hannah’s drenched mane of hair as her climax subsided. “Okay,” she panted. “I’m good.”

Hannah rose to unsteady feet, turned off the water with a savage twist of her wrist, and grabbed Nettie’s hand. “My turn! Come on.” The two lovers had discovered early on that Nettie was too tall to easily go down on Hannah from a kneeling position.

Nettie followed as nimbly as she could, her legs still shaky from that thunderous climax. The bathroom with the shower stall was directly adjacent to Nettie’s dad’s old pool room. That’s as far as they got. Hannah sprawled on the love seat, legs spread wide, water from her dripping hair and body instantly soaking into the cushions.

Nettie dropped to her knees on the carpet, licking her lips. Fresh from the shower, her lover’s cunt looked positively scrumptious, right down to the tiny beads of water glistening in her pubes. She could have spent another moment or two marveling at its beauty, but an impatient Hannah grabbed the back of Nettie’s head, pulling her close.

Resisting for a moment, Nettie flicked her eyes upward, accompanied by a teasing grin. “A little overexcited, are we?”

“I fingered myself most of the way there while I was eating you. Come on, bee-otch!”

Nettie tested Hannah’s entrance with a fingertip, finding it slick and receptive, then slid two fingers all the way inside, grinding the redhead’s clit with her palm. Hannah let out a rapturous cry, lifting her hips up from the cushions. She was bucking furiously against Nettie’s hand, her breath choppy. Hannah hadn’t been kidding; she was clearly only moments removed from release. Nettie dove in, seeking and finding her lover’s treasure, taking up a rapid flicking motion with the tip of her tongue.

That was all it took. Hannah was wailing like a banshee, her pussy muscles contracting, hips thrashing so furiously it was all Nettie could do to keep her tongue in place. Finally Hannah collapsed into the cushions, her body spent.

Nettie pushed herself from the floor and nestled in beside her lover, holding Hannah close. She’d just settled in when the muffled sound of her ringing cellphone came from the bathroom. She was tempted to ignore the damn thing, but thought better of it.

She lifted her head. “Fuck. Sorry, Hannah, but with everything that’s going on—”

“Sweetie, I’m a doctor,” Hannah replied, patting Nettie’s thigh. “I check my phone when it rings, period. Handle your business.”

Nettie trotted naked across the carpeted floor, hair still dripping. She didn’t quite make it. She’d just shaken the phone out of the front pocket of her jeans when it ceased to ring. “Dammit,” she muttered, turning the device over in her hands. A missed call from Terry.

Returning to the pool room at a more sedate pace, she traversed the carpet once more, plopping down next to Hannah on the love seat. “Just missed it,” she said. “It’s Terry. Probably nothing important, but I’ll drop him a quick call and see what he wants.”

Terry picked up instantly. “Hey, Nettie. Catch you in the middle of something?” His loud, clear voice was audible to Hannah as well. The two women shared a look, then burst out laughing.

“Oh,” said Terry, with sudden comprehension. “Hello, Hannah. Sorry, it’s nothing important. I’ll let you get back to—”

“Oh, no worries,” said Nettie, putting the phone on speaker while Hannah continued to snicker. “We just finished our, um—”

“Project,” Hannah finished for her. The two of them dissolved into laughter again.

“Excellent,” said Terry, his voice deadpan. “One hopes you both took tremendous pleasure in satisfactory completion.”

Hannah cracked up again. “Terry,” she said, leaning close to Nettie’s phone. “Can I keep you on call for when I need a good one-liner?”

“Sorry, my dear,” said Terry. “But word would get out, and there are only so many of me. Can’t have everybody wanting one.”

Nettie drew in what she hoped was a sobering breath. “What’s up, Terry?”

“As I said, nothing much. I was just going to ask if you wanted to hang out; have a drink or something. But if you and Hannah are pursuing explosively enjoyable projects to their climactic conclusion, I can find other ways to amuse myself.”

Hannah broke into laughter again, but this time Nettie didn’t join in. Terry was a gregarious, social creature by nature, but this out-of-the-blue invitation was hardly his style.

She realized Hannah was still laughing, and looked at her askance. “It wasn’t that funny.”

Hannah giggled. “It is when I’ve got a couple of drinks in me.”

Nettie shook her head. “That’s it—no more sauce for you.” Then something else occurred to her. “Hey,” she said into the phone, “I thought you were, um, working on a ‘project’ of your own with Theresa Fosse tonight.”

Terry snorted. “Might one ask where you happened to come by that piece of information?” he inquired, amusement in his voice.

“Ummm—shit. Halee told me. Don’t be pissed at her, okay?”

“Oh, I’m not. It’s not news to me that she thinks I’m nuts to turn my hand—and other assorted body parts—to Theresa’s urgent need for project completion. I—”

Hannah was doubled over with laughter. “Terry—Jesus, Terry! Knock it off. I’m getting a stomach ache!”

“As a doctor, my dear, you know perfectly well that the problem therein is simple muscle tension, the relaxation of which is best accomplished by the stimulation of pelvic anatomy, yet another project for Nettie to—”

As Hannah burst into yet another fit of laughter, Nettie cut him off, just barely holding back her own mirth. “Okay, smart-ass, give it a rest. You were saying?”

“Well, not to put too fine a point on it, I spent fifteen minutes or so sipping double-syruped daiquiris while listening to inane babble, and decided that Halee’s logic was unassailable.” Nettie’s eyebrows were in her hairline now. Terry, walking away from sex? Hannah, seeing her expression, had stopped laughing.

“Terry,” Nettie ventured, “are you all right?”

“Oh, perfectly fine,” he said in an airy voice. “I was just thinking that since I’m clearly not getting any projects done this evening, and the girls would probably be just as happy if the Big Bad Fun-Killing Dad Monster steered clear of their sleepover for awhile, I might join up with a friend for a drink and a conversation about something other than who celebrities spend their sack time with. But if you’re busy, it’s not a problem.”

Nettie wasn’t buying it. “Where are you, if you’re not at home?”

“Walking the bike trails. Lovely evening for it.”

Nettie looked to Hannah, an eyebrow lifted. Hannah, understanding at once, nodded vigorously.

“Terry,” she said, “we’re at my place. Why don’t you stop over for a drink? Hannah and I are done with our—you know—our project—”

“Well, at least taking a break from it,” Hannah cut in, merriment in her voice. “But seriously, Terry, come hang out with us for a while. It’ll be fun.”

“If you’re sure,” said Terry. “I’ll be there in ten.” He cut the connection.

Nettie looked to her lover. “Hannah, I’m sorry, but—”

“It’s okay. I don’t even know him that well, and I can tell that something’s not right. Maybe we’d better throw some clothes on before he gets here, what do you say?”

***

“But why can’t I watch it with them?” Maya Wilder wasn’t quite in tears, but close. There was a stubborn set to her jaw.

“Because it’s already past your bedtime,” Halee replied, carefully keeping her voice level, “and because it’ll give you nightmares, after which you will end up in my bed, and steal all the blankets. C’mon, kid. I let you stay up later than I should have as it is.”

“But I’m not tired, Halee!”

“Tell you what,” said Halee. “You can look at your storybooks for a little while. I’ll come in fifteen minutes to tuck you in. Deal?”

“But I want to—”

“Maya. You are not watching The Monster Squad. Get over it, all right? Are you walking to your room, or do I have to carry you?”

“Fine!” Angry tears dripped down the six-year-old’s cheeks. “You’re a bad sister, Halee. I want you to know that!” Parting shot delivered, Maya turned her back on Halee and stomped down the hall.

Halee turned her head towards the girls still in the living room. Naomi and Chelsey, both age eleven, had their eyes fixed to the wall-mounted TV, remote in Naomi’s outstretched hand. Eight-year-olds Dawn and Allison were staring at Halee, Dawn with an amused expression, Allison with eyebrows raised.

“When I go in to check on her, bet you a dollar she’s passed out,” said Halee as she took the single step up from the dining nook to the living room. “Then in the morning, she can tell me how tired she wasn’t.”

Naomi turned to her older sister, a frown on her lips. “I found it on Amazon. It’s seven bucks to buy, three to rent. Why don’t we call Dad and ask if we—”

“Very bad plan,” Halee countered with a smirk.

“But we’ve watched it before,” said Naomi. “Maybe we rented it?”

“I’ve never even heard of it,” Chelsey replied.

“Oh, you’ll love it,” said Naomi. “It was one of Dad’s favorites when he was a kid. It’s old, but it’s way cool. Or I guess you would love it, if we could watch it. Looks like we can’t.”

“I rather suspect we can,” said Halee. She was opening the doors of a large cabinet set against a side wall. She traced her finger along the spines of the DVD cases lined up inside. “Here it is,” she said, turning to face the others and holding it aloft.

“Oh, that’s right, we didn’t stream it! We have it on Blu-Ray.” Naomi slapped herself on the forehead.

“Jeez, does anyone even still have a player for those things?” Chelsey wanted to know.

“We do,” said Halee, crossing the room. “Naomi, would you be so kind as to get the popcorn going? I’ll get this set up.”

***

“What’ll you have, Terry?” Nettie stood before an open cupboard, a variety of whiskey bottles on display.

“Whatever you’re drinking is fine.”

“Actually,” Nettie said softly, “I already had one a little while ago. I think I’ll stop there tonight.”

Terry’s eyebrows shot up. “Okay, then. Whatever bourbon you happen to have will do nicely.”

Nettie selected the best bottle in her cupboard, which she knew perfectly well was not on par with whatever Terry’s best bottle was. Still, it was decent stuff. She poured it into the waiting glass of ice, then re-stoppered the bottle.

Terry sipped, then smiled. “Thank you, Nettie.”

Hannah turned from the island, where she’d been mixing a margarita. She raised it in his direction. “Cheers, Terry.” She sipped, then smacked her lips. “Ah. Perfect.” Nettie beckoned them toward the living room. She and Hannah settled into the love seat, Terry taking one of the recliners.

Terry raised his glass. “I must say, the two of you make a beautiful couple. Here’s to a happy future together, and I mean that.”

“Thank you Terry,” said Hannah, raising her glass and drinking with him.

Nettie, on the other hand, was raising mental eyebrows. Such maudlin declarations weren’t in character for Terry Wilder at all. She cast around in her mind for something to say to lighten the mood. “Flattery gets you zero threesomes, dude.” Hannah laughed so hard she almost spilled her drink.

Terry was grinning. “Well,” he said, “it was worth a try.” At least that statement was more like the old Terry, but the tone was all wrong. It sounded pro forma, like something he was saying because he was expected to.

Nettie suddenly decided she was in no mood for this. “Terry, are you okay? You’re acting weird as fuck.”

That grin remained frozen on his lips. “Weird as fuck is my default. Ask my kids; they’ll tell you.” He took another sip of whiskey.

The mirth had faded from Hannah’s face. “Terry… Antoinette’s worried about you. Maybe she has good reason and maybe she doesn’t, but if the two of you want to talk, I can make myself scarce.”

His smile disappearing, Terry pursed his lips. “No need. I am, perhaps, not at my best, but I don’t feel the need to burden anyone with the details. They’ll work themselves out; things always do.”

Nettie shook her head. “You shouldn’t hold it in, Terry. You’re my best friend. I’m here for you.”

Terry burst out laughing. It took him a moment to recover his voice. “Sorry, Nettie. But that’s one hell of a statement, coming from you.”

Nettie’s gaze didn’t waver. “Believe me, I know that. I’m just now realizing the price I’ve paid by keeping things bottled up.” She hesitated, then added, “I told Hannah about Annamarie a couple of hours ago.”

Terry’s face went very still. He opened his mouth, closed it again. Finally, he spoke. “That’s a name you’ve never once uttered in my presence, not until now.”

“But you know about her.”

“Of course.”

“I never wanted to talk about what happened to us—to her,” said Nettie, staring at the carpet. “If I could’ve talked about her and not the rest of it, I would have, but it—it just never worked out that way.” She fumbled for Hannah’s hand and pulled it into her lap, holding on for dear life.

“That caused a lot of problems for you and me, Terry,” Nettie pressed on. “And with other people before you. I decided I had to break the cycle, you know? And I have to thank you. You always encouraged me to open up without pushing me too hard. And you’ve been my friend, no matter how bitchy I got when I was down. When I decided to tell Hannah, I was thinking of things you’ve said to me over the past year or so. I don’t think I could have got there with… without you.” There were tears in her voice and her eyes, but Nettie held her head high.

“Then I’m proud to have contributed in some small way,” said Terry. “Well done, Nettie—sincerely. I’d given up hoping that this would come to pass.”

Nettie smiled. A single tear trickled down her cheek. “Thanks, Terry. Now let’s talk about you.”

Terry took another sip of his whiskey. “In honor of your truly impressive breakthrough this evening, I’ll do so—but there really isn’t much to tell. It’s only that I find myself at something of a crossroads. I have no professional life to speak of, the only consolation being that I don’t need the money. I seem incapable of writing anything that seems worthwhile to me. My romantic life is a ridiculous hashwork of one-nighters, friends with perks, and women who have no business sleeping with me.

“There are, of course, my girls, and I do like to think I’m handling my job as a parent with some level of competence. But the rest of it? Sitting in Theresa’s living room this evening, sipping the most redneck of beverages and listening to her prattle on about things which she knows less than nothing of, I came to realize precisely how dissatisfying it all is.”

Terry tilted his head back, seemingly speaking to the ceiling. “All that said—I’m fine, Nettie. First-world problems, all of them, and I’m far better off than most. What I realized tonight is that I can’t continue to playact at everything except being a parent. In short, I need to get a life.”

Hannah raised her drink to him. “Good for you, Terry. Sounds like both of you are making strides today.”

Terry lifted his whiskey in return, then polished off the rest of the glass. “Since we’re all wearing our hearts on our butt cheeks—are you okay, Nettie? Talking about your sister has to have been a very large step for you, especially in light of your escapades earlier this week. I—”

“Whoa.” Nettie was sitting bolt upright. “What the hell do you know about earlier this week?”

Terry shrugged. “Only that you traveled to Virginia or thereabouts, and that you were involved in the rescue of two preteen sisters who’d been kidnapped. I deduced—oh, to hell with it. I was contacted by Special Agent Perky Tits earlier today. She gave me the scantiest of details, but asked me to check in on you, which is one reason I thought we might meet up tonight after my tryst with Theresa Fosse fell through.”

Hannah was laughing again. “Special Agent Perky Tits?!”

Terry chuckled. “It’s how I affectionately refer to DEA agent Bridgett Ramscone. In any event, she’s concerned about your mental well-being, Nettie. As am I. I also admit to some curiosity about what took place up there.”

Nettie chewed on the inside of her cheek, then got to her feet and made her way towards the kitchen. “I think I’ll have another drink after all. Do not let me pour a third. You want another one, Terry?”

***

“Kick him in the nards!” screamed the kid on the television screen.

“He doesn’t have nards!” the chubby boy facing off against the werewolf howled back.

“Do it, do it!”

Racing forward, the fat kid gave his foot a mighty swing, connecting solidly with the hirsute beast’s nether regions. All the fight went out of the werewolf as it doubled over in pain.

A look of wonder came over the big kid’s face. “Wolfman’s got nards.”

Dawn and Allison, side-by-side on beanbags in the middle of the living room floor, howled with laughter. Chelsey, snuggled up under a blanket on the couch with Naomi, also erupted in a fit of giggles. Naomi, who had seen the movie before, was grinning. That grin became a smirk as a hand beneath the blanket slid up her thigh. Their clandestine fooling around had been going on for almost ten minutes, and both girls faces were flushed. The younger girls on the beanbags, backs to the couch, were completely oblivious.

Halee, curled up in her dad’s recliner with her laptop, was not. Having seen the movie several times before, she’d thought to finish up a bit of code she was working on for her Python course, but found herself increasingly distracted by the action taking place on the couch. She was all too aware of her panties dampening, erect nipples tenting her t-shirt. Something would have to be done about this before she’d be able to sleep, something she’d prefer not to take care of on her own.

Picking up her phone, she shot off a text to Bethany.

***

Terry Wilder was pulling thoughtfully on his lower lip. Hannah stared at her lover with wide-eyed wonder as Nettie, pacing the living room and nursing a glass of bourbon, related the details of her sojourn north the previous Tuesday.

“That’s really pretty much it,” she was saying. “We got them both out, but the perp—whoever he was—managed to skip right out from under us.”

“How are those girls doing?” Hannah’s voice was soft, almost a whisper.

“I haven’t gotten any follow-up. Last I heard they were both being taken to Children’s, but I think that’s more because they didn’t want to be separated than anything else. Gina’s fine physically, or she will be once she gets some nutrition in her. Heather’s mostly okay, but her hands are a mess. She was digging in soil that’d been compacted by the weight of the shed, using her fingers and chunks of concrete. I wouldn’t be surprised if she needs surgery.”

“She got her sister out,” said Terry. “Gutsy kid. Do you think Gina would have made it far enough to get help?”

“I doubt it,” said Nettie, polishing off the last of her bourbon and leaning against the wall. “The ironic thing is, she wasn’t that far from the road. Following that abandoned highway was the right choice with the information she had, but it was actually the worst thing she could have done. She still had about six miles to travel over very rough ground, and she could barely walk when I got to her.”

“It was a good try, though,” said Terry, “and it did work out.”

“Oh, for sure.”

“They can probably fix the fingers, and whatever else,” said Hannah. “Those emotional scars won’t go away anytime soon, though.”

Nettie tossed back the last of her bourbon. “No. They don’t.” Crossing the room to the love seat, she plopped down beside Hannah. The redhead put an arm around her.

“What seems remarkable to me,” said Terry, “is that the bad guy managed to get away so cleanly.” He held up his phone. “I’m looking at a map of the immediate surrounding area. There’s nothing out there at all. Mater’s garage is a solid fifteen miles from Virginia, which appears to be the nearest place to catch a bus or anything like that. I’d assume the FBI was keeping an eye on the bus station, as well.”

“Yeah, they were,” said Nettie. “Hopefully they still are, in case he’s hunkered down somewhere in the area. But I’ve been wondering the same thing; just how the hell he got away on foot. The answer is that he didn’t.”

Hannah bit her lip. “You’re thinking he had help?”

Nettie shrugged. “He could have hitchhiked, but I dunno. Not very many people pick up hikers anymore. Too much risk. Besides, would he really be standing on the shoulder with his thumb out when he knew he was being hunted? I think more likely there’s an accomplice involved.”

Terry was shaking his head. “That being the case, why would he have been carrying his spare tire to the shop? Why not phone for help?”

“Because the cell service out there sucks. I had no bars at all where I found his car. I had one where I found Gina, but it wouldn’t put a call through. I had to climb a fucking tree, remember? There was actually pretty decent service at the old farmstead where we found Heather; I was able to call Bridgett from there.”

Nettie looked down at the glass in her hand, seeming to notice for the first time that it was empty. She set it down. “He probably could have called someone once he got to the highway, but maybe he didn’t want to. Maybe he was close enough to the shop he didn’t feel like it was worth the risk of exposing both of them. I don’t know—I’m just guessing here. Maybe there isn’t an accomplice at all.”

“But you think there is,” said Hannah, taking a sip of her margarita.

Nettie nodded. “Either that, or he’s still in the area. He could have a hidey-hole somewhere within walking distance.”

“Which seems equally likely,” said Terry. “So tell me why you’re leaning towards the accomplice theory.”

Nettie stared down at her hands. “Because I’m pretty sure there was an accomplice when Anna and I were kidnapped.”

On to Chapter Twelve!

by Suzy Freeman

Hello again. I am Suzanne Freeman, and this is Part Three of an interview I conducted with Millie, age thirty-two. She has agreed to be interviewed and answer highly personal questions about her sexual growth from childhood to the present.

In Part One, we met Millie, who told us of her first sexual feelings and the encounters those feelings would lead to. Millie’s first sexual experience was at the age of five, with her mother, who was in her early twenties at that time. In that interview, she also told me that she’d gone on to become lovers with her two sisters… and years later, she would go on to initiate her young daughters into the lesbian life. They are Emily, age twelve, and Piper, age nine.

In our second meeting, Millie brought Emily along with her. It turns out that her eldest daughter also has a very pronounced sex drive as well. She ended up getting naked and masturbating while her mom told the story of a sexual encounter she had at fourteen with a pair of neighboring sisters, aged nine and ten.

Once Emily reached orgasm, her mother was so worked up that she began to kiss her daughter… and it quickly became apparent that they intended to make love, then and there. Because this is a study of human sexuality and how different people react and grow sexually, I have included the following, which is a description of what then happened.

***

We were at my apartment for the second interview, and Millie had allowed her twelve-year-old daughter, Emily, to get naked and masturbate, which Emily did without embarrassment or regret.

We watched in awe as Emily brought herself to orgasm. Once she’d finished, Millie leaned over and kissed her child in a way that was anything but motherly. Emily was quick to bring her tongue into play, and my excitement swiftly mounted as this sexy woman and her equally desirable daughter kissed like passionate lovers.

Despite knowing Emily was already a seasoned lesbian at twelve, it still surprised me to see her take the lead in making love to her mother. She blindly reached out to grope the woman’s breasts, circling Millie’s mouth with her tongue.

When they finally drifted apart, Millie looked my way. “Emily and I would love it if you’d get out of those clothes and join us,” she said, then leaned in to kiss her daughter again.

To say I was aroused by this would be quite the understatement. “Oh, I’ll definitely be joining in,” I said, absently stroking my thigh, “but first, I’d like to watch you two for a little while. I’ve never seen a mother and daughter make love before.”

“Well, brace yourself for one hell of a show,” Millie said, her eyes twinkling, “‘cause my little girl is an amazing fuck.”

She reached for the top button of her blouse, but Emily quickly put a hand on her arm. “No, Mommy!” she protested. “Let me take your clothes off!”

“Sorry, hon,” said Millie. “I’m all yours.” She got to her feet.

I watched in awe as Emily began to strip her mother, first removing Millie’s top before reaching behind to unclasp her bra.

At this point, I had yet to see Millie naked, so when her breasts were revealed, I was transfixed by their beauty, already aching to taste her nipples – and all the rest of her, truth be told.

I’d never had sex with a young girl before, not since I was young myself – but as an adult, I often found myself experiencing a powerful attraction to underage girls. Ultimately, that desire is what made me decide to conduct this research in the first place. So it was quite natural to hope Millie was willing to share her daughter with me, and that Emily would want me to make love to her. True, I had been invited to join them, but did that mean I could explore Emily as well as Millie? Of course, it went without saying that I wouldn’t so much as lay a hand on the girl unless she wanted me to.

Kneeling before her mother, Emily began to wriggle Millie’s shorts and panties down. This was no playful striptease – the girl wanted to get her mother nude as quickly as possible. The lustful gleam in Emily’s eyes made that abundantly clear.

As she helped Millie out of her remaining clothes, I gazed longingly at Emily’s pert little bottom. It’s my very favorite part of a woman, and hers was absolutely flawless. I ached to bury my face in it, nestle my face between those tender cheeks and bathe her rosebud with my tongue.

Soon, Millie was just as bare as her little girl. Returning to the sofa, mother and daughter met in another lustful kiss, their tongues flickering in and out of each other’s mouths

I could feel my pulse racing; nipples growing achingly taut. I’d chosen not to wear a bra that day, since I was conducting this interview in my own apartment. I felt more comfortable that way… and sexier. While Emily and Millie continued to swap passionate kisses, I tweaked the tips of my breasts through the snug top I’d chosen until they were at full attention.

I estimated Millie’s breasts to be something like a C cup. Her nipples were dark and engorged with arousal. Emily’s were pink – much smaller, of course, and visibly erect. I imagined what it must be like to take one in my mouth, praying I’d soon get the chance to find out.

Millie trailed a hand down Emily’s tummy, towards her pussy. The girl’s labia were spread a bit and I could see her juices were flowing well enough to coat the inner lips with her cream. Her clit was nestled behind the fleshy folds, but then Millie used her fingers to expose it, a small nubbin of engorged pink flesh.

My heart raced as I watched as Millie lightly stroked her daughter’s clitoris. Emily shivered every time her mother’s finger made contact.

Breaking their tongue kiss, Millie turned to me, casually licking her finger. “Do you want a taste?”

“Of… of Emily?” I asked.

“Well, first Emily. Then me, if you like.”

“Oh, I like, I like. Is Emily okay with – with me going down on her?”

Millie snickered. “Okay with it? Listen, she begged me to bring her along. Piper wants to fuck you, too. She’d be here as well, but she had a sleepover with her friends..”

That caught me by surprise. “Emily begged to come with you?”

“Yeah, but in all honesty, she didn’t have to beg much.”

“I totally wanted to!” Emily announced. “Mom found your picture on the internet, and I thought you were way hot. I ‘specially like doing sex with grownup ladies, and when she told me you were gay, I made her bring me along, just like she said!”

“Well, in that case…” I murmured, getting to my feet.

I was just about to kneel before Emily, already imagining how that sweet smooth slit would taste, but Millie stopped me. “Don’t you think you should get naked, Suzanne? That will make it easier for us to fuck you.”

“Oh, of course,” I said and stripped down to nothing as quickly as I was able. I noticed Emily watching avidly as I removed my clothes. Her excitement was a warmth in the air that I could feel on my bare skin.

Tossing my panties aside, I squatted in front of the child and positioned myself before her pussy, like I was about to pray to it. I inhaled deeply, allowing the pungent aroma of cunt to fill my nostrils. By then, I I figured it was a combination of Millie’s, Emily’s and my scents. I breathed it in again. So wonderfully fragrant, I told myself. There’s no perfume finer than the smell of an aroused woman – or girl.

I took my time moving in to lick Emily. As I said, it was my first time with a young girl since I was that age myself, and I wanted to savor it, to engrave the moment on my memory forever.

For her part, Emily was a bit impatient. “Please don’t make me wait, Miss Suzanne! Ever since me and Mommy g-got here, I wanted so bad to feel your mouth on me. Make me come, pretty please?”

Her hips were literally churning. She was that anxious for me to go down on her.

Never forget this, I told myself, leaning in to taste little Emily for the first time. I covered the girl’s slit with my mouth, then pushed my tongue into her vagina.

Emily let out a guttural moan loud enough to be heard by my next-door neighbor Hannah, and I hoped against hope that she wasn’t home… or if she was, Hannah would assume that cry had come from me. If I was to carry out a study of this nature, strict secrecy was of paramount importance.

I continued to pleasure Emily with my mouth, intent on making the child come for the second time that day. Well, it was the second time that I knew of. Emily was sexually precocious enough that she might have already had sex with other lovers that day – her sister, perhaps, or maybe she and her mother had enjoyed a nice morning fuck before getting ready for this visit. For all I knew, Emily would end up coming five times that day. Perhaps even six, which was my personal record.

As I feasted on the child’s succulent cunt, I noticed Millie getting down on her knees, then felt her hands on my ass, spreading me open. I braced myself for the caress of her tongue, then hummed my approval into Emily’s sex as she stroked the opening with a finger.

Millie was out of view but I did hear her say, “Is it okay if I lick you, Suzanne?”

I raised my face from between Emily’s legs just long enough to reply, “Mind? Why do you think I invited you to my apartment?”

She laughed, then pressed her mouth to my recently waxed mound, her tongue penetrating me like a lover’s finger. Within seconds Millie had whipped me into an inferno of lust, raging and relentless. My mind kept switching back and forth between two delightful sensations – my mouth against Emily’s juicy cunt; her mother’s tongue darting in and out of mine.

Emily began to come, thrashing about on my sofa, screaming in ecstasy as she bucked her hips into my face. Once more, I prayed Hannah wasn’t home to hear it. We were casual acquaintances, but she had no idea about what I was doing for research, nor did she know of my attraction to little girls. For that matter, I hadn’t known it myself until my first interview with Millie. Even then, I figured it was nothing I would ever actually experience for myself, just fuel for furtive masturbation fantasies.

As Emily’s orgasm began to subside, I was launched into my own climax. It seemed to last forever. Shock waves seemed to swamp my body, and I trembled and shook as they washed over me. Finally spent, I collapsed onto the carpet, panting for breath.

When my eyes finally drifted open. I was confronted by a sight that nearly made me come again. Emily was lying between her mother’s thighs, feasting on the pussy she was born from as if she was starving and this was her first decent meal in days.

I watched for a moment, then Emily sat back, pointed at her mother’s cunt and said, “You, too, Miss Suzanne!” Positioning myself where the girl had just been, I leaned in and began to lick Millie’s juices from her dripping vagina. Suddenly Emily squeezed in beside me, and Millie spread her legs more to accommodate the two of us. Now, we were both licking Millie, driving her absolutely wild. No doubt about it, she would be coming soon.

I had the left half of Millie’s pussy and her daughter was working the right half. Naturally, our tongues frequently met and danced together. Eventually, Emily’s pretty mouth was too much for me to resist, and I kissed her. She returned my kiss, and we ended up capturing Millie’s clitoris between us, our tongues teaming up on the swollen nub of flesh.

That was when Millie came. Her orgasm seemed to be just as intense as mine and her daughter’s. In fact, she was even noisier in her ecstasy as Emily had been. Well, if my neighbor was home, I hope she enjoyed the sound show we were putting on. Who knows? Maybe Hannah was masturbating to the sound of our threesome on the other side of the thin wall.

Once Millie’s climax peaked, she went limp, struggling to catch her breath. Emily and I snuggled up to her on either side.

“Fuck, that was good,” Millie finally said. Her eyes fluttering open, she gave me a weary smile. “Why don’t you come over sometime for dinner, Suzanne? I’m sure we can offer you a lot to eat.” She snickered. “Even real food, if you like. Piper will absolutely love you. In more ways than one!”

“Are you sure she’d be okay with that?”

“Believe me, if it weren’t for the fact that she’s probably doing the deed right now with Grace and her mom at the sleepover, she’d definitely have been part of this. In fact, she was giving serious thought to joining us and blowing off the sleepover, but I told her that would be rude.”

“Wait. Piper’s friend makes love with her mother? And Piper?”

“And me and Mom,” Emily said.

“Yes,” Millie said. “Grace and Joanne – that’s the mother’s name, by the way – they’ve been over many times, and we visited their home regularly. You ought to join us for our next get-together. Soon as the door closes, everyone strips naked, and that’s it for clothing until the party’s over. It’s a lesbian orgy like you wouldn’t believe.”

I wondered just what I’d gotten myself into, but at the same time, I certainly wasn’t broken up about it. “That sounds… fun.”

Millie smiled. “I’m sure both Joanne and Grace would be happy to meet you – and more. So, can we pencil you in for the next family fuck-fest?”

I somehow found my voice. My throat had gone dry. “Um. Okay. As long as everyone’s fine with it.”

“Relax, Suzanne,” Millie said. “I get that you’re a stickler for consent, but there’s no need to worry. I promise not to involve you with anyone who isn’t a hundred percent on board.”

We sat around naked for a few minutes, enjoying a lovely chat about this and that. Finally, Millie glanced at Emily. “Time to go home, kiddo.” . She asked me again if I wanted to join their next orgy, and this time I answered with an emphatic yes. We all got dressed and shared some very sexy kisses before saying goodbye.

I ushered my new lovers out the door, where we exchanged our last goodbyes, this time without kissing, and I watched them climb into Millie’s car and drive off.

Waving as they disappeared from sight, I reflected on how my life had just taken an unexpected turn. Somehow, I’d stumbled into an intimate relationship with a family that practiced lesbian incest, one where even the little girls were participating in the sexual antics. I was somewhat apprehensive about the risk involved, but not enough to stay away..

As I approached my apartment, my neighbor Hannah emerged from hers and stood there in the doorway grinning at me like the cat who got the cream. It was plain to see she was very much aware of what those sounds from my bedroom had been. What I wondered was how much she knew.

I hoped she wouldn’t tell her husband about this. Hell, I hoped she wouldn’t tell anybody! Figuring it was best just to brazen it out, I gave Hannah a fleeting smile as I reached for the doorknob.

“Got a minute?” she said.

I thought about making some excuse, telling her I had to go somewhere – but that would just be putting off the inevitable. It was obvious she’d heard the cries of ecstasy from my apartment. And if Hannah had taken a peek out her window a moment earlier, she’d have seen Millie and Emily leaving, which was close to a blatant admission that we’d had sex with a pubescent girl. Maybe I could convince her that Emily had been playing in another room while I was getting it on with Millie.

At least Hannah didn’t look angry or disgusted, so I figured a visit from the police wasn’t in my immediate future.

I decided we might as well talk now and get it over with. That way I could at least plead my case that she keep her mouth shut about what she’d overheard.

“Sure,” I said, trying to seem calm and casual. “Your place or mine?”

“Oh, yours. Danny will be home in about fifteen minutes. I can text him that we’re having a girl chat, and I’ll be home in a few.”

“Okay. Come on in.”

Hannah approached the sofa, but before sitting down, she leaned over to dramatically sniff the cushions, right where we’d just had sex.  “My, my. What an aromatic couch you have, Goldilocks.”

As I sat next to her, she said, “I heard you, you know.”

“Heard me what?” I knew the answer would be embarrassing, but I needed to hear it from her lips before I could respond.

“Uh… fucking?”

“Really?” I didn’t know what else to say.

“Yeah. And, um, sorry to be nosy, but I was watching to see who left your apartment. Imagine my surprise when it turned out to be a woman with a girl who looks to be around twelve or thirteen. And when I gave it some thought, it sure seemed like some of the noises I heard came from a young girl. Oh, and I saw a very distinct family resemblance between your guests. Would they be mother and daughter, by any chance?”

By then, I was a bundle of nerves. “They are, yes, but–”

“And you fucked at least one of them in this room. Maybe both of them, huh?”

There was a roaring in my ears, and I was on the verge of keeling over in a dead faint. “How would you even know that?”

Hannah’s cheeks pinkened ever so slightly. “Okay, confession time. I’ve heard you a couple of times when you had a lady friend over… but then, the sound was coming from the bedroom. It’s how I know you’re into women, by the way. But today, I could hear you through there,” she said, pointing at the wall that separates our living rooms. “By the way, this whole room reeks of pussy.”

“Oh,” was as much of a response as I could muster up. I had to give my neighbor credit for her detective work. She didn’t have any hard proof to back her conclusions, but knew enough to make things mighty hot for me if she so desired.

I’m sure Hannah could read the fear in my eyes, because her tone changed. “It’s okay, Suzanne. Your secret is safe with me.”

I felt a measure of relief, but was determined to remain cautious. “Why are you telling me this, Hannah? What is it that you want?”

“I want to know what happened here. All of it. How it got started, and what the deal is with that girl and her mother.” She snickered. “How you got that stain on your sofa.”

Taking a steadying breath, I began to speak. First, I told Hannah about my research project. I let her know that I had a signed confidentiality agreement with Millie, so anything she or Emily told me during our session was strictly off limits. She was fine with that; what mattered to Hannah was the threesome we had afterward.

I told my neighbor everything: how Emily had stripped naked and masturbated while Millie talked about her sex life, Millie undressing and pleasuring her daughter, then how they both invited me to join in. I saw Hannah press a hand between her legs as I described going down on Emily as Millie ate my cunt and anus from behind. I left out the part about Millie inviting me to her upcoming orgy, and made no reference to Piper, her younger daughter.

When I was done, Hannah shook her head. “Holy hell… that’s the hottest fucking story I’ve ever heard.”

“You enjoyed it?”

“Oh, of course. So, um, how does it feel to have sex with a girl that young? How old is she, by the way? Can’t be more than thirteen.”

“She’s twelve… and as I said, I’m not her first.”

“No, her mom was.”

“How do you feel about that?”

“Truthfully? It turns me on more than I ever would have thought. Not that I ever wanted to fuck my mom, but it’s not like incest is a foreign idea to me.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. More confession time, since we’re getting to know the real nitty-gritty about each other. I have a sister and a brother. Older brother by two years, younger sister by eighteen months.”

“And the two of you…?”

“From the time my brother was old enough to know how to seduce us – which, I have to say, wasn’t very difficult – we were all getting it on. He taught us what to do, then we did it to him. And each other.”

The researcher in me was emerging. “How old were the three of you?”

“Jake was twelve, I was ten, and Melinda had just turned nine when it began.” She was still gently rubbing her cunt through her jeans.

“How did it get started?”

She laughed. “I walked in on Jake in the bathroom when he was having a… private moment.”

“He was jerking off?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you know he was in there?”

“No. It was a totally innocent thing. He forgot to lock the door and I caught him.”

We sat there in silence for a moment. Then Hannah spoke up. “Suzanne?”

“Yes?”

“Just to let you know… if you ever get horny and want some company, check to see if I’m home. I miss sex with women.”

I smiled. She definitely wasn’t going to breathe a word of what she’d heard. “Okay.”

“And if you ever have a girl that age over here again, one who likes grown women… would you call me? I’ll stop whatever the fuck I’m doing and come by soon as I can.”

That intrigued me. Was she truly interested in fucking an underage girl? “Are you sure about that?”

Without a word, Hannah stood and pushed her shorts and panties to the floor, then sat back down. Her hand went to her pussy, which I noticed was waxed like mine, and began to rub.

“So sure, it has me worked up all over again just thinking about it. So tell me, Suzanne: what was it like, licking that cute little twelve-year-old’s pussy?”

“Honestly?”

She nodded.

“It was heaven.”

Hannah plopped back onto the sofa, rubbing herself even faster. Soon, she was coming, fingers a blur as she mauled the rosy flesh of her cunt.

Once she’d caught her breath, Hannah stood to pull up her shorts and panties. She did it casually, as if masturbating before an audience was something she did every day. “Well, I have to get back to Danny now,” she said. “If you listen, you’ll hear us fucking tonight. I won’t tell him why I’m so hot and bothered. Actually, he won’t even care why.” With a wink, she added, “I’ll be extra loud when I come, just for you.”

With that, she drew close and kissed me. It was a brief but fiery lover’s kiss, long enough for me to suck her tongue. Breaking away, she paused to smear her wet fingers on my mouth, giving me a sample of her honey.

As she made an exit, Hannah gave me a little wave. “Toodles.”

When the door clicked shut, I hastened to my bedroom, stripping naked as I went, savoring the trace of pussy Hannah left on my lips. She tasted divine, and I was already thinking about when I’d get to enjoy her from the source.

Falling back on the bed, I began to masturbate. Usually I preferred to take my time, but right then I wanted it hard, fast, and intense. I wondered if Hannah would hear me getting myself off, deciding it was fine if she did. It would just add fuel to her fire.

On to Chapter Four!

 

The Story Thus Far

Chapter One: Mallory Kalvornek and her lover Julie Hanson have returned to Bronning, Minnesota, for the first time in years to catch up with friends and family. Meanwhile, their old friend (and occasional sex partner) paramedic Nettie Hastings fights to save a life, her lover Hannah drops by with an unexpected surprise, Terry Wilder grapples with writer’s block… and two little girls living in a trailer park named Heather and Gina are being carefully observed by a hidden stranger.

Chapter Two: Mallory and Julie get together at Nettie’s home with Nettie and her lover Hannah, Nettie’s friend Terry Wilder, Terry’s teen daughter Halee, and Mallory and Julie’s friend (and occasional sex partner) Cindy. Gossip is exchanged, memories shared, and an unexpected attraction between Mallory and Terry Wilder reveals itself. Meanwhile, the mother of the two trailer park girls Heather and Gina goes out for a night on the town, oblivious to the presence of the man spying on her home.

Chapter Three: At Nettie’s place, Nettie and Hannah leave the others to indulge in a bit of romantic pleasure, while Julie and her old friend Cindy get it on with Terry’s teen daughter Halee. As for Mallory, she has repaired to Terry’s place for one of her occasional bouts of heterosexual action. Appetites are indulged, confidences shared. Meanwhile, Heather and Gina are abducted from their trailer home by a mysterious and very scary man.

Chapter Four: At Nettie’s place, four women and Halee Wilder greet the morning after an evening of lesbian abandon. Later that day, Mallory rejoins Julie, Nettie, Cindy and Hannah for a day of fishing. Halee returns home and spends the day upgrading her internet in preparation for promised to be a fun night of video chat sex with her girlfriend Bethany. Meanwhile, Grace and Heather are in the custody of the mysterious man, who seems to takes delight in terrorizing them.

Chapter Five: After their day of fishing, Nettie, Julie, Cindy, Mallory & Hannah engage in a five-woman sexfest inside a tent… and with the use of Cindy’s phone, their old friend and occasional bedmate Emma attends the orgy virtually. In the midst of their abandon, Nettie has a weird, vague memory flashback that leaves her shaken, but she conceals it from the others. Back home, Halee and her new love interest Bethany (Hannah’s daughter) are having long-distance sex via their laptops. 

Chapter Six: Nettie has a heart-to-heart with Hannah about her personal demons. Later, she gets a call from Agent Bridgett Ramscone, who has an unsettling request: for Nettie to go through the documentation of her own childhood kidnapping — and the murder of her sister — as a possible way to gain insight into the abduction of Heather and Gina (who are still being emotionally abused by their kidnapper, but are also taking steps to escape). Nettie is shaken, but agrees to do what she can. 

Chapter Seven: Many years after the fact, submerged memories of Nettie’s kidnapping began to make themselves known — memories of a possible accomplice to the original crime. She shares her thoughts with Bridgett. Meanwhile, Heather and Gina work on a potential escape from their makeshift prison.

Chapter Eight: Nettie unearths more hints that kidnap victims Heather and Gina were abducted by the same man who kidnapped and brutalized Nettie and her deceased sister over a decade ago — but that man was known to have died in prison.  Gina manages to escape captivity. But Heather can’t fit through the opening they dug, and must remain behind. Nettie gets a possible fix on the girls’ captor who, while out and about, gets a flat tire — then he discovers the spare is flat as well. 

Chapter Nine: The man who kidnapped Gina and Heather must get his flat spare tire fixed, not knowing the police have been alerted to him and are searching the area. Nettie, who is also hunting for the man, manages to find his abandoned car — then, some time later, makes an even more startling discovery: little Gina, alone and weeping by an abandoned road. In the meantime, the kidnapper manages to make his escape from the area by phoning a mysterious woman to pick him up.

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

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

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

 

by Rachael Yukey

Could I be a warrior, warrior
Broken, alone, left for dead
Could I be a warrior, warrior
With courage to rise up again
Blaze Bayley 2021

At about the same time Nettie Hastings was lugging an exhausted Gina Dulcey through the forest towards the spot where she’d left the car, Mallory Kalvornek sat across from her mother in a corner booth at Longtrees Restaurant in Alexandria, scooping the last bite of mashed potatoes into her mouth.

Sharon, still attractive in her late forties, had just put down her own fork. “That hit the spot,” she proclaimed. “This place has changed completely since it was Doolittle’s.”

Mallory swallowed, the corners of her mouth twisting upwards in a wry grin. “The only direction to go was up. I remember paying damn near gourmet prices, for Perkins-level food.” She settled back in her chair, dabbing at her lips with a napkin. She was glumly aware that they’d spent the entire meal, the first hour they’d spent together in quite some time, on superficialities. She just couldn’t think of a way to pose the questions churning in her mind.

The server brought the check, and Sharon sent her along with a credit card.

“Thanks, Mom,” said Mallory, at a loss for anything else to say. “I’ll buy next time.”

“Well, hopefully we’ll be able to make time to see each other before you go back home.”

“Jeez, I’m going to be here all summer,” Mallory said with a grin. “I have to think we can figure something out.” Sharon just sat there across the table, smiling stiffly at her. The artificiality of it was enough to make Mallory’s stomach churn, and finally she decided she’d had enough.

“Okay, Mom, what the hell is it?”

An eyebrow arched. “Excuse me?”

“Whatever it is that you’re upset about. Whatever’s been eating you for the last three years and change.”

Sharon’s expression grew cool. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Mallory ran a hand across her face. “Of course you don’t. We’re right back to the fourth grade all over again. Okay, I guess I’ll play that game. Let’s pretend everything is fine, and talk about the weather. This time I’ll do it till you’re tired of it, and we’ll go from there.”

Sharon’s lips had compressed to a thin line. “Are you done?”

“I guess I’ll have to be,” Mallory replied with a sigh.

***

Nettie was seated next to Bridgett Ramscone on a plush settee in the best hotel in Virginia, with Latisha Miller across the table from them in an overstuffed chair. Nettie was holding a blowup of the clearest security cam photo from Crossroads Convenience, her hands beginning to shake.

All she could see of the face was the chin and part of a cheek, but there was something about the shape of those features, combined with the way he stood and moved, that said it all for Nettie.

“It’s him,” she muttered, her voice dull. “I know it is.”

True to her word, Gina Dulcey had been able to lead them straight to the abandoned shed deep in the woods, seated on Nettie’s lap in the passenger seat of the Ranger ATV. Young though she was, she’d spent much of her childhood playing in the pine forest, possessing woodsmanship to match.

The shed was one of the few remaining outbuildings on what had once been a dairy farm. The house and barn had been torn down, nothing left but thoroughly overgrown foundation. Most of the remaining buildings were busy caving in on themselves, but the one shed, protected somewhat from the elements by a sheet tin roof, had remained intact.

The only door had been secured with a hefty padlock, but Agent Fischer had broken it down with a heave of a sturdy shoulder. Heather Dulcey was inside, feebly scratching at the earth with fingers scraped so raw that Nettie suspected reconstructive surgery might be in her future. Both girls were now being looked after at Children’s in Minneapolis.

“Nettie.” Bridgett spoke in soothing tones, her hand closing over the top of Nettie’s. She used a light touch, mindful of the scrapes and scratches accrued during the morning’s adventures. “It can’t possibly be Jacob Brentshaw. You know that.”

“Brentshaw died in prison,” Latisha Miller confirmed. “There’s no way he’s at large now. Although I admit, there are similarities. The height is about right, and the shape of the chin is close enough for the discrepancy to be accounted for by aging.”

Nettie waved the paper at them helplessly. Her voice shook as badly as her hands. “Look at the thing, dammit. Or better yet, watch the cam footage. I know my memories aren’t clear, but I remember he moved like a friggin’ cat. You can’t seriously tell me that we have a copycat crime with a perpetrator that looks and moves this much like—like—fuck!”

Flinging her glasses aside, she buried her face in her hands, shoulders heaving. Tears dripped from beneath her palms.

“I don’t know what to say,” Latisha replied. “Because you’re not entirely wrong about his physical characteristics, at least the ones we can see. But he died in a federal maximum security facility; that’s about as much certainty as you can get. There has to be another answer here.”

Hands dropping to her lap, Nettie leaned her head back against the lush blue upholstery. The tears continued to flow, and she was powerless to turn them off. Hating the sobs that racked her voice, she forced the words out. “Any f-fucking leads on where he went after—after the garage?”

Bridgett gave her a handful of Kleenex she’d extracted from her purse. Nettie pressed the whole wad against her eyes, doing her best to muffle sobs that threatened to rattle the walls.

“None,” Bridgett replied. “They spent about six hours doing helicopter sweeps; didn’t turn up anything. We had agents on the ground looking for trails into the woods, but there wasn’t anything we could make out visually. At this point we have to assume he got away clean.”

Nettie drew her knees up to her chest and pressed her face to them, feet on the cushions. “I’m s-sorry,” she managed to get out.

“Don’t be,” Latisha replied in a gentle voice. “You solved a case in three hours that my team has spent the past three days coming up dry on. A case that comes pretty close to home, after what you went through when you were a kid. You saved Heather Dulcey’s life for sure, and maybe Gina’s too. I’d say you’re entitled to a good cry.”

Nettie gave in to it, allowing Bridgett to drape an arm around her and draw her close. Face still buried in her knees, she wept for herself, her sister, those two little girls who would spend years struggling to put this nightmare behind them, and for the lost opportunity to catch the sorry fuck who had done this to them once and for all. Bridgett and Latisha, bless them, remained silent and let her do it. Gradually, little by little, she pulled herself together.

Still hugging her knees, she lifted her head. Finally she let her feet drop to the floor, then dried her face and blew her nose with a fresh handful of tissue supplied by Bridgett.

“I know you’re right,” she got out, her voice raspy and harsh. “I guess there’s not much left to do here.”

“Well, my team definitely has some follow-up work ahead,” Latisha replied. “Not the least of which is to see if maybe we can nab this guy. If he’s still on foot, he has to still be somewhere close. If he was able to get into a car, either by hitchhiking or some other means—” she shrugged.

“Then he could be a couple of states away by now,” Nettie finished for her.

“Exactly. But as for you—you’ve done all you can for us at this point. Certainly if you think of anything, please get in touch, either through Agent Ramscone here or by calling me directly.” She handed Nettie her card. “After this morning, I’ll sure as hell never dismiss a call from you.”

Bridgett chuckled. “This isn’t the first time Nettie’s thrown open something trained agents couldn’t figure out. She has a standing offer to come work for me.”

“You’ve got competition now, honey,” Latisha said with a smile. “Ms. Hastings, you’d be a natural fit for the bureau. I’d get you hired in a second. If you also wanted to continue your work for the DEA, there are ways to accomplish that.”

Nettie offered a wan smile. “For now, I think I’m just going to bed. I’ll be driving home in the morning.”

Latisha rose. “Fair enough. And seriously, thank you. I don’t even care that you upstaged me and my agents, not with what was on the line. Agent Ramscone, shall we let Ms. Hastings rest, and confer further in my room?” The look in her eyes as she gazed at Bridgett was not lost on Nettie, nor was the tone of voice in which Bridgett replied.

“Absolutely,” said Bridgett, rising to her feet. “Nettie, if you need me, call. No matter the hour.”

As the two women exited the room, clearly already undressing each other with their eyes, Nettie couldn’t suppress a grin. A grin which faded the moment she looked back at the photo in her hand. It couldn’t really be Brentshaw, she told herself. Could it?

***

“So she just—shut down on you.”

“Pretty much.” Mallory turned the stick in her hand, the marshmallow over the fire blackening nicely. “Whatever are you talking about, Mallory? There’s no problem. More or less exactly like she did when I was in elementary school.”

“That sucks,” Julie replied, slowly rotating her own marshmallow. “I wonder what’s actually going on with her.”

Mallory shrugged. “You’ve seen her emails, and her Facebook posts. It’s all trivial stuff. The weather is awful, the job is going well, that kind of crap. I have no idea what’s actually happening in her life, and I don’t know anyone who does.”

Julie pursed her lips. “I don’t suppose it has anything to do with our—um—illicit activities with her? Like, maybe she has regrets now, or something?”

“I dunno.” Mallory felt a stirring in her loins as her mind flashed back to the numerous carnal liaisons she and Julie had enjoyed with her mother. These encounters had tapered off during the girls’ high school years, as Sharon had started dating more frequently, exploring her newfound preference for women. The last time had been early in their senior year, and even that had been something of a fluke. The three of them had shared two bottles of wine that night and ended up in Sharon’s bed.

Mallory pushed the images aside; she knew her motor would be running within seconds if she allowed her imagination to run wild. Illicit or not, those had been some of the most amazing sexual experiences of her life. “It’s occurred to me, I guess. But it seems damn strange that it would suddenly become a problem, after all this time.”

“Is she dating?”

“Beats me. It’s been forever since she posted about anything like that on Facebook, and she sure as hell hasn’t mentioned it in those content-free emails I’ve been getting over the past few years. I don’t even know who her friends are any more.”

“Maybe you should talk to your grandma. Paulette might know something.”

Mallory shifted her eyes to the heavens. “I’ve thought about it, but I don’t know. Grandma is constantly having to worry about my idiot uncles as it is… I guess I don’t want to add Mom to that list.”

Julie extracted her marshmallow from the fire, sandwiching it between two graham crackers with Hershey bar squares. Squeezing tightly on the crackers, she pulled the stick free. She glanced around at the farmstead where Mallory had spent her childhood, the big streetlamp near the grain storage tanks casting a nearby stand of oak trees in sinister shadows.

“You know,” she said, picking her words carefully, “if there really is something going on, I doubt you’ll be telling Paulette anything she doesn’t already know. She’s probably already worried.”

“Maybe,” said Mallory, carefully assembling her own s’more. They’d be getting electrical power restored to the house tomorrow, and a refill of the propane tank. The plan was to spend the summer living there. Tonight, they were camping out.

Polishing off her s’more, Julie sucked on her fingers, then rummaged in the cooler, coming up with a bottle of vodka and another of Sprite. “Something to make your troubles go away?”

Mallory shook her head. “Just the Sprite. I don’t really feel like I want a drink.”

Julie’s left eyebrow went up. “Camping without observing the rituals? That’s probably bad luck, you know.” She poured some Sprite in a cup for Mallory, then went about mixing herself the traditional Pussy Posse campfire beverage for herself. Mallory sipped her Sprite, gazing out past the grain bins into the darkness that shrouded the field.

Julie took an experimental sip of her mixture, nodded with satisfaction, took a larger gulp. She cast her eyes toward her partner. “Seriously— you feeling okay?”

Mallory tore her eyes from the middle distance and looked to Julie. “Yeah—oh, I don’t know. I’m just feeling a little off, I guess. Have been since this morning. Not sick or anything like that; just weird. I can’t really put my finger on it.”

Julie grinned. “Sweetie, you’ve been weird since the day we met.” Reaching out, she gripped Mallory’s hand tightly in hers, earning a firm squeeze in return. The two women sat in silence, sipping from their cups, content with the evening and each other.

“Know what this place needs?” Mallory said suddenly.

Startled from her own thoughts, Julie shook her head to clear it. “No idea. What?”

“A barn,” said Mallory. “It always annoyed me that my grandpa tore down the dairy barn when he switched to strictly cash grain. That was before I was even born, but there’s still pictures. It had one of those big, beautiful, old-fashioned hip roof barns.”

Julie gave her a sidelong glance. “You mean like the ones that are collapsing literally all over the countryside around here? Your grandpa was probably smart to tear it down before it turned into a hazard.”

Smiling, Mallory shook her head. “There you go, always thinking like an engineer. And yeah, I know you’re right. But they’re not all falling down. Some of them were preserved on purpose, and some of the others are still standing because they had a metal roof instead of shingles. A handful are even still in use.” She paused, then gave a thoughtful nod. “If I decide to sell the place, I should put a clause in the contract—the buyer undertakes to build a big, beautiful barn.”

Julie squeezed Mallory’s hand. “I know what you mean. There’s something about those old traditional homesteads, isn’t there? Not very practical now, I guess.”

“No.” There was another long, companionable silence. Julie mixed herself another drink, offering Mallory a refill of Sprite. Mallory shook her head.

This time it was Julie who spoke first. “You don’t really want to sell, do you?”

Mallory heaved a heavy sigh. “No, I don’t. But I don’t really know what the hell I’m supposed to do with the place, either. Renting the land is at least bringing in money, but it comes with some headaches, and it would take decades to make in rent what I’d get from the sale. Selling would be the practical thing to do.”

“The practical thing isn’t always the right thing.”

“Well, that’s not very… engineery of you.”

“I’m on sabbatical,” Julie said with a giggle. “I don’t have to be engineery again until September.”

“Unless I decide to make you build me a barn.” Laughing together, the two lovers gazed out once more into the night.

***

“I’m glad we found those girls, but I gotta admit—I feel a little stupid,” said Latisha. She and Bridgett lay in each other’s arms, naked, the comforter drawn over their spent bodies. “A half dozen FBI agents beating our heads against the wall, and this chick with zero investigation training just waltzes in and cracks the whole thing in all of three hours.”

Bridgett chuckled. “You’re not the first person Antoinette Hastings has done that to. Yours truly included.” She lay her head back and gazed up at the ceiling. “You didn’t have our advantages, is all. I saw the similarity to the Brentshaw kidnappings and murders, purely because I happen to be acquainted with the one person who ever survived being kidnapped by him. And honestly, I didn’t really think it would lead anywhere. I just figured we had to try.”

Latisha nodded. “My boss didn’t even clue me in on that. He relayed your request for info, so I sent what we had—he never told me why. I never even heard of Jacob Brentshaw until you called me this morning and told me your agent on the ground had a lead.” She chuckled. “What you didn’t tell me is that she ain’t really an agent.”

Bridgett laughed with her. “No, just a consultant so far. But she’d be a great agent. Nettie has damn good instincts, and an intellect that’s almost scary. I don’t think she even realizes how smart she is.”

“Even so, how are you planning to explain to your bosses why you let an untrained consultant who isn’t even an agent investigate a case like this on her own?”

Bridgett shook her head. “She wasn’t supposed to. I thought we were going to meet for lunch in Virginia, then start poking around together. Guess I should’ve known better. As for justification—” she shrugged. “It won’t be that hard to explain away. When the lives of children are on the line, no one really argues with success.”

“No, I guess they don’t.” Latisha rubbed her eyes. “But it wasn’t a total success, was it? We lost the bad guy. People who do that kind of shit—they’re compelled, you know? He’ll do it again.”

“You’re not done here,” Bridgett said reassuringly. “Maybe you’ll still manage to pick him up.”

The FBI agent shook her head. “Bullshit. He’s gone, and you know it. We maybe had a two-hour window to put hands on him. Could be we’d have even managed it, if getting those girls back hadn’t come first. But I’d bet you my car—and it’s a nice one—that he’s completely out of the area by now.”

Bridgett nodded reluctantly. “Yeah.”

Latisha stretched languorously. “If I get any leads, you mind if I call your girl? She sure does have a way of figuring things out.”

“No problem on my end. It’s up to her if she wants to participate or not.” Feeling a wave of heat arise at the delicious friction of Latisha’s body against hers, Bridgett reached up to caress the FBI woman’s cheek, then extended her fingers to delicately toy with an earlobe.

Latisha’s hand shot up, arresting Bridgett’s motion and lacing their fingers together. “Girl,” she breathed, “You tryin’ to start somethin’?”

A smile teased the corners of Bridgett’s mouth. “Me? Never.”

***

The cemetery wasn’t a sizable one, but hilly ground made it seem larger than it really was. Hannah’s almost-new Jeep topped a rise, where she found Nettie’s Kia, nosed off the dirt trail just enough to allow other vehicles to squeeze by. Hannah drove a little further until she found a clear spot, then pulled off of the trail and put the Jeep in park.

She spied Nettie standing in front of a fresh-looking headstone on a side-slope grave, the new sod a sharp contrast to the surrounding grass. Nettie was looking in her direction, and waved Hannah over as she opened the driver-side door and slid to the ground.

A twinge of excitement coursed through Hannah’s body; she hadn’t seen her lover since the previous weekend’s fishing trip. It was now late Friday afternoon, and she’d come straight from work, still wearing her trademark pink scrubs.

Hannah ambled down the gentle slope, headstones to the left and right. Many of them had dates far, far in the past. Coming alongside Nettie, she slipped an arm around her waist, pulled her close, then studied the headstone before them.

“Darrell Hastings,” she read aloud. “Your dad, right?”

“Yeah,” Nettie buried her face momentarily in Hannah’s hair, planted a kiss on the top of her head, then faced forward again. “How was work today?”

Hannah sensed that Nettie was engaging in small talk to delay a more serious discussion, and decided to play along for a little while. “A couple of minor surgeries, one intubation that my CRNA was scared to tackle, nothing special.” She paused. “You doing okay?”

The rescue of two preteen girls near Virginia, Minnesota on Tuesday had made national news, and its occurrence in a location where Nettie just happened to be participating in a police investigation had not been lost on Hannah. In their phone conversations since then, Nettie tacitly acknowledged her involvement, but had been unwilling or unable to open up about it. Hannah was burning with curiosity and concerned about her girlfriend’s mental well-being, but knew nothing about the operation beyond what had been reported in the press.

“I’m fine,” said Nettie. “I have to work Sunday evening, but we’ve got the weekend until then. What do you want to do? Anything special?”

“Well,” said Hannah with a grin, “you promised me dinner and, er, tongue exercises. But first—” she hesitated, then decided it was time to take the bull by the horns. “First, why don’t you tell me why you wanted to meet at your father’s gravesite.”

Nettie gently withdrew from her lover’s embrace, extending a hand. Hannah took it, then followed Nettie up the hill towards the cars. They crossed the dirt trail, then were once again moving downslope, on the opposite side of the hill.

About two thirds of the way down, Nettie stopped before a mid-sized stone, with flowers engraved on either side of the name. Hannah took note of the dates—it was the grave of a ten-year-old child. Annamarie Peyton Hastings. Her eyes fastened on the birthdate again, and realization came to her in a rush.

Utterly blindsided, Hannah blinked back sudden tears. If ever Nettie needed her to be strong, this was the moment. Looking sideways and up she saw that Nettie’s face was streaked with wetness, her open mouth working soundlessly. Not thinking, just reacting, Hannah threw both arms around Nettie, pulling her into a tight embrace.

Nettie began to sob. Her legs buckled, and she went to her knees. Hannah followed, still holding her tightly.

“Oh, Antoinette,” she whispered. “Oh, God—I had no idea.”

Nettie just cried. Hannah just held her. How long they knelt there in the grass like that, neither of them could have said.

***

“I can’t believe I’m just now hearing about this.” Hannah closed the browser tab, the fifteen-year-old news article vanishing from the laptop screen.

The tale it told had been a brief, matter-of-fact affair, detailing the kidnapping of ten-year-old twin girls, and the operation that had rescued them. Only one had survived, but their abductor had been arrested, putting an end to a long string of murder/kidnappings.

Thoroughly shaken, Hannah polished off her margarita in a single gulp. Closing the laptop, she turned to look at Nettie, seated next to her on the loveseat. Pale and silent, Nettie was sitting bolt upright, hands on her knees. Hannah put the laptop on the end-table next to her, took Nettie’s hand, and squeezed. Her fingers were ice-cold.

Hannah scooted over a little, so their bodies were pressed together. She wanted to throw her arms around the tall, dark-haired beauty once more, tell her that everything would be all right, whisper I love you. She resisted the urge, sensing that it might not be welcome at that moment.

She tried a different tack. “Does Terry know?”

That elicited the ghost of a smile. “Probably. I mean, he’s lived here four years—I figure he has to have heard it from somebody by now. We’ve never talked about it, though.”

Hannah shook her head. “That’s a hell of a thing to hold inside, babe.”

Nettie shrugged. “I know. I just can’t—I can’t stand to talk about what happened. And if I mention Anna at all, people want to know how she died. It’s easier to just skip the whole thing.”

“Do you talk about her with anybody?”

“My mom, but we don’t ever discuss the kidnapping. You know, she’s never asked me a single question about what went on while that fuckwad had us. Not once. Dad never did, either.” Nettie tilted her head back, gazing up at the ceiling. “Sometimes Anna’s name will come up when I’m talking to people we went to elementary school with—you know, remembering stuff we all did together, that sort of thing. It’s not like anybody is forgetting her, it’s just—” Nettie seemed to run out of words.

“What was she like?”

“Fun.” Nettie smiled, and it did Hannah’s heart a world of good to see it. “I mean, she was the girl who could always think of something to do on a rainy day. Or if we were out with friends, like in the woods or at the park, she’s the one who would come up with games, or think up some make-believe thing that we could all get into. She had a real vivid imagination, and was good at sucking everyone else into her world.”

“So the leader, kind of.”

“Yeah, for sure. She had charisma, even when we were little. People gravitated to her, way more than they ever did to me.”

Hannah cocked her head to the side. “Did that ever bother you?”

“Sure, sometimes.” Nettie was starting to relax, lounging back against the plush cushions. Hannah no longer felt as if she was snuggling an oak plank.

“I mean, she made friends without even trying,” Nettie went on. “I was a little jealous, at times. But we both had our super powers, I guess. I always had a real easy time at school. Reading, math—I just picked it right up. For her, it was harder. In the second grade I was placed a couple of reading levels ahead of her, and she got kinda sulky about it.”

“But you loved each other anyway.”

“We were best friends.” There was a hitch in Nettie’s voice. “We fought sometimes, but we didn’t stay mad.” Tears dripped from the corners of her eyes, but she plunged ahead. “I think it worked because we weren’t bitchy about any of that stuff. I spent hours helping her with her reading, and she included me when she hung out with her friends. At least when I wanted her to.” Plucking a Kleenex from the box on the coffee table, she blew her nose.

“You didn’t always want her to?”

Nettie was still leaking around the eyes, but a teary chuckle pushed its way through. “Anna was a little social butterfly. Having people around all the time made her happy. Me, not so much. I liked being around people, but I needed to be alone sometimes. Guess I’m still like that.”

Hannah nudged Nettie in the ribs with an elbow. “Guess you are.” Then she shook her head. “Am I really the first person you’ve ever talked to about it who didn’t already know?”

“Yep.”

“Well—I’m honored, but—why now? And why me?”

“A few reasons.” Nettie seemed to have the waterworks under control again. She dried her eyes and blew her nose once more before going on.

“First off,” she said, “if we’re gonna have a chance as a couple, I’ve got to stop running away from people. That’s what I do when the nightmares get bad, or when I just can’t get it out of my head—I push people away. I’ve always hated to be vulnerable in front of others, no matter who. Didn’t want them to see me cry, or be there when I woke up screaming.”

“I hope you don’t need me to tell you that’s not healthy.”

Nettie let out a humorless laugh. “Believe me, I know. And it’s been a real problem; I’ve torched a couple of relationships because of it. I don’t want to do that this time. I want us to have a real chance.”

Hannah pressed the back of Nettie’s hand to her lips, then cradled it to her breast. “That means a lot to me, Antoinette. Because I really, really want this to work. Is it too early to say I’m in love with you?”

Sniffling, Nettie shook her head. “No. No, it’s not. Because I feel the same way.” She took in a shuddering breath, then let it out slowly. “Another reason is that I’m starting to realize how badly this is fucking up my life. I drink too much, for one thing. None of it’s gonna get any better if I keep bottling this up.”

“You recognize that you’ve got a problem, and you’re taking steps,” said Hannah. “That’s half the battle right there. I’m proud to be your main squeeze right now, you know that?”

Now smiling, Nettie leaned in. Hannah met her halfway, and they shared a tender, leisurely kiss.

Hannah caressed Nettie’s cheek, her hand remaining there when their lips parted. “You said there were a few reasons. That’s two. A few implies more than two.”

Nettie looked forward again, pressing her head back against the cushion of the love seat. “The other reason—” She took a deep breath, then forced the rest of the words out. “The other reason is that it’s all happening again.”

Hannah frowned, not sure where Nettie was going with this. She was opening her mouth to ask for clarification, but then the light dawned. “You mean that case you drove up by Virginia for? The one you still won’t tell me about? It was those two little girls that got kidnapped, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“How involved were you?”

“I saved their lives, Hannah.” Nettie’s voice was stronger, more alive somehow. “I could play at being modest all day long, but the truth is that I’m the reason they were found. And it would’ve been a totally different story, if not for what happened to me and Anna all those years ago.”

Hannah’s breath caught in her throat. “Antoinette, you don’t—do you think it’s the same guy?”

Nettie pursed her lips. “Same make and model of car. Same MO, except he wasn’t as careful with the babysitter’s body. We’ve got—”

“Wait a minute. The news article I read said that the kidnapper escaped on foot and left his car behind. Can’t they ID the car by the—the engine serial number? I think I saw that on Law and Order or something.”

“Usually they don’t even need that. There’s VIN plates in a few different places on most cars. But those have all been removed, and someone stuck a re-man engine in it at some point. That aside—” she shrugged. “We have some security cam footage. He’s hiding his face under a big hat, but the height is correct. It all fits, but there’s one big problem.”

Hannah waited, but Nettie had gone silent again. “Which is?” she prompted.

“Jacob Brentshaw is dead. He was shanked in the showers of a maximum security prison just last year. There’s no way it can be him.”

Hannah nodded slowly. “I guess my first thought would be that he faked his death somehow, but in max? Seems kind of hard to believe.”

“Exactly. But—I dunno. Something’s off here. I know it, and Bridgett knows it too, even if she’s not saying it out loud. The moment she saw the MO, she contacted me. She can make noises about copycat crimes and accomplices all day long, but I don’t think she’d have bothered if she wasn’t seeing what I’m seeing.”

“So what’re you planning to do about it?”

“It’s not my investigation, Hannah. Bridgett Ramscone was only involved because there were drugs in the babysitter’s system. Nothing to do with the case directly, you know? She managed to stick her nose into the other stuff, and by extension mine, because those girls were missing. But now that they’re safe? It’s strictly an FBI thing now. We’re out of it.”

Hannah cupped Nettie’s chin, turning her head towards her and gazing into those dark brown eyes. “Don’t bullshit me, girl. What are you planning to do about it?”

Nettie’s expression hardened. “I haven’t figured that out yet. But I’m damn sure going to do something.”

On to Chapter Eleven!

 

by Emma

Chapter Two: A Desperate Good Girl on the Edge 

“Back seat, little one,” Miss Ashcroft said smoothly, opening the door for me like I was a little girl.

The inside of her car smelled like clean leather. She reached in the cargo area and pulled out a thick wool blanket from behind the seat, deep green and incredibly soft. “No proper woman leaves the house without one,” she said, draping it around me in a hug that set my heartbeat racing. “Preparedness is a virtue for mommies like me. Now, up you go.”

I climbed in without thinking, and Miss Ashcroft helped me up, fingers accidentally (accidentally…?) grazing my bottom beneath my tattered skirt.

“There,” she smiled, brushing damp hair from my forehead again. “No need to worry about a seat belt. Simply kick off your shoes and curl up with the blanket. You’re already such a little drenched thing… we need to make you warm again.”

Drenched was right. And cold. But deep inside I was warmed by Miss Ashcroft’s beauty, her kindness… but more than anything, the promise of Lollipop Lane. Could she really be taking me there?

I curled up tightly, thighs pressed together, the soft weight of the blanket pressing me down into the leather bench seat. Wow.

She turned the key, and immediately gentle instrumental music began to hum through the speakers. Piano and cello, a hint of humming. Soft. Lullaby-soft.

“What is this?” I asked, eyes fluttering closed.

“A piece my little girl composed,” Clarissa said. “She made it for bedtime, though I find it has universal applications.”

“You have a daughter?” I mumbled.

“Yes. She’s a little younger than you, and an absolute rascal.” She glanced at me in the rearview, eyes catching mine. “Perhaps you two will get along. Though, be warned, she’s the most mischievously insatiable little thing.”

By then, I was feeling mischievously insatiable, too. I still wasn’t quite sure what was happening, but I wanted to shed tears of happiness and rub my slit at the same time. “Thank you, Clarissa,” I whispered.

“Miss Ashcroft,” she gently corrected. “Say it properly, sweetheart.”

“Miss Ashcroft,” I whispered, correcting myself like a schoolgirl caught passing notes. Except my note would have read, Please, pretty please let me suckle your breast. I know I shouldn’t have peeked down your top, but your nipple caught my attention and now I just want to…

Her smile reflected in the rearview. “Good girl.”

Two words was all it took for my tummy to flip like a cheerleader on Adderall. Okay. Yeah. This was happening.

I was a good girl, and this was definitely happening.

I slipped the fingers of one hand between my thighs beneath the secrecy of the blanket, which now felt less like comfort and more like an obstruction. It smelled faintly of female. Her? Her daughter? I bit my lip, drawing tiny circles around my clit.

“Are you warm enough back there?” she asked, her voice a low purr. “You’re squirming.”

“I’m just… adjusting.”

“Mm. I do like pretty young girls getting… adjusted.”

Something inside me fizzled and sparked. The combination of the soft music, the blanket, Miss Ashcroft’s voice—every word brushing up against the part of me that still wanted to believe I was growing up, cutting away that illusion like a wet summertime bikini trimmed away by scissors.

I sank deeper into the seat, closing my eyes. But the friction between my legs was… wowie, it felt so good. I wanted more. I rocked once against my hand, just a little, just to see if she’d notice.

“Oh, sweetie,” she cooed, her eyes still on the road. “You’re going to leave a wet spot on my leather.”

“I—I’m not—”

“But you will,” she said, voice calm and final. “Protection from wetness is one of the best features of leather. Wait until we arrive home, love. First we’ll get you nice and comfy and warm. Then we see what else is wet.”

I moaned before I could restrain it.

“Oooh, lovely. I’ve a feeling you’ll be excellent company tonight.”

Lollipop Lane. Once more, those magical words echoed in my head.

The name was a vibrator permanently placed on the “oops” setting. My brain immediately launched a full printout of every rumor, urban legend, and half-serious high school whisper I’d ever heard.

“Isn’t that the place where you’re only allowed to wear collars?”

“My cousin said it’s just a house but, like, not JUST a house. Like a lesbian cult, but with cookies.”

“No, dummy. It’s a safe haven for queer girls. Like a rescue house, one where you go to escape from your parents if they’re making your life hell. And they all fuck.”

“Someone on TikTok said they saw a girl crawling down the street wearing a leash and nothing else.”

“I heard they have parties where they take turns peeing on each other.”

“Oh, my GOD. Shut up. There’s no such place as Lollipop Lane. It’s a myth!”

Apparently, there was something to the myth after all. Miss Ashcroft lived there. I was pretty sure if I asked nicely (or misbehaved correctly?) she’d show me more.

My heart thudded. My panties were a lost cause.

I swallowed hard. Glanced at Miss Ashcroft in the mirror.

She was smiling. Knowing. Like she could read my thoughts.

“Miss Ashcroft?” I asked softly, clutching the blanket tightly. My voice cracked, as if I was asking the headmistress a Very Inappropriate Question.

She didn’t respond right away. Just hummed along to the lullaby for five long seconds. It made me want her even more. “Yes, little one?”

I hesitated. “Who… are you?”

Her eyes flicked to the mirror. “I am a woman of refined tastes, impeccable manners, and a soft spot for lost girls with storm clouds in their lives.” She smiled, almost lazily. “As for the rest… well. I believe in earned intimacy, Lily, and you haven’t earned it yet.”

“Are you married?” I tried. “I—I mean, you said you were going on a date tonight, but some women… you know.”

“No. Thankfully, never, because no one on the Lane is ever alone like that.” Her eyes lingered a beat too long in the rearview. “You’ll see.”

I swallowed, the heat pulsing steadily between my thighs, dizzy with the ache of needing to release that warmth, to grind just a little harder… but I didn’t dare. I wasn’t sure. Not yet.

I watched Miss Ashcroft drive. Still humming, one hand on the wheel, the other in her lap. At ease. Queenly. What was it like, I wondered, to move through the world like that? To be so confident you could cause young girls to secretly rub their pussies in the back seat while you drove?

I imagined what she’d look like standing in a doorway, naked and bathed in warm candlelight, murmuring, “Come here, little one.” I wondered if this was truly a seduction, or something else, something that could become more.

Most of all, I wondered if she had the same hunger between her legs that I did, and if I had what it took to satisfy it.

“So…” I said, as innocently as someone with soaked panties and a burning desire could manage. “What’s the neighborhood like?”

“It’s usually very lovely and quiet,” she said eventually. “Well-kept. Extremely private, as I’m sure you’ve imagined.”

“Right. But, like… friendly?” I asked. “Close-knit? Lots of, um, gatherings?”

She gazed at me in the mirror. Those sparkling green eyes were borderline dangerous.

“You want to know,” she purred, “if my neighborhood community is a sex-fueled hedonistic contemporary isle of Lesbos, complete with orgiastic lesbian brunches every Sunday. Am I right?”

My mouth opened and I choked out a half-laugh, half-gasp, still snatching at the thought. “I didn’t—”

“Hush, now.” Her lips curved like she’d just been served a particularly juicy secret. “Of course not, darling. Don’t be ridiculous.”

I exhaled, flustered.

“They take place on Saturday nights.”

My heartbeat stopped.

THIS is Saturday night.

Miss Ashcroft’s laugh was low and melodious. “Oh, sweet thing. We are not monsters. One does need Sundays to recover, hydrate, and bake fresh scones.”

“You’re messing with me,” I muttered, trying to retreat into the blanket and my own lust-addled head.

“And you are squirming helplessly, beside yourself with the need to know,” she replied, pleased. “And I do admire curiosity. It’s a quality I nurture.”

“Nurture how?”

“Oh, you’ll see.”

Fuck it. Brazen, I began to rub, and rub, and closed my eyes as I imagined this amazing woman nurturing me with that sweet, lone nipple I’d glimpsed moments earlier, while I lay curled up in her lap, suckling and suckling while she hummed and stroked my hair and touched between my legs…

The car phone trilled loudly, shocking me out of images of Miss Ashcroft’s soft, warm pussy pressed against my mouth.

“Ah, it’s my little girl,” she said airily. “Hello, Bunny.”

A voice burst over the speakers like a glitter bomb made of sugar: “Momm-y-y-y-y! I was SUCH a good girl today, I didn’t even hump the pillow during my nap, unless you count that one time I—anyway, can I have cummies before you get home? Please? Pleeeease?”

Miss Ashcroft’s lips twitched as she, without an ounce of shame, locked eyes with me in the mirror. “Are you touching yourself now, little rabbit?”

Ohmigod ohmigod ohmigod…

“Only with the pinkie. The rest of my hand is hovering, I swear. Hovering is allowed, you said so on Wednesday.”

“And what day is it, darling?”

“…It’s Saturday?”

“Is it?”

“Oh no.”

“Indeed.”

“I’m soooo sorry, Mommy! I got confused, I’ll stop! I’ll—”

“Bunny.”

A brief pause. “Yes…?”

“If I find so much as a hint of quim on your fingers when I return, I’ll have you crawling the lane with that vibrating pacifier in your bottom, and every dog we pass will have their way with you.”

A sharp intake of breath. “Sorry, Mommy…”

“Apology accepted. Now, be a good girl and draw a nice, hot bubble bath. Oh, and you should also know… I’m bringing someone home.”

A pause. “Is it… a friend?”

“A very pretty young guest. She’s very wet right now, and very curious about our home.”

“OmiGOD. Is she cute? Is she, like, cute-cute, or oh-no-I’m-in-danger-cute?”

“She’s precious,” Miss Ashcroft said, her voice dipped in honey. “And lost. Which, as you know, is one of my favorite flavors.”

The voice on the speakers whimpered right along with me.

Miss Ashcroft’s smile deepened. “You may be your real self tonight, Bunny. No need for secrets. Let our guest see what a pretty little girl you really are, deep down.”

A breathless pause on the other end. Then, in a voice quivering with excitement: “Yes, Mommy.”

“Good girl. Mommy loves her good girl so much…”

“I’m gonna cry—oh, Mommy, you’re gonna make me wet myself—”

“You will not. Now hop upstairs and get to work on that bubble bath.”

“Yes, Mommy! I love yoooou!”

“I love you, my sweet.”

Click. The call ended.

Miss Ashcroft didn’t speak for a moment. Then, a contented sigh. “She’s excitable. But pure and honest.”

I was panting under the blanket. “I…um…noticed,” I mumbled.

“Lily.” Miss Ashcroft’s emerald eyes flicked to mine. “You’re allowed to be nervous, little one. But you’re not allowed to lie to me. I appreciate obedience,” she added, adjusting her mirror. “But desperation is far more delicious. So. No more rubbing yourself, not until we get home.”

Though quaking inside, I reluctantly withdrew my hand. “Yes, Miss Ashcroft…”

On to Chapter Three!

by Suzy Freeman

Hello again. This is PhD candidate Suzanne Freeman, with Part Two of my interview with Millie, age 32, who has agreed to be interviewed about her sexual history. She has admitted to having a great deal of sexual contact as a child, particularly with women and girls. My current discussion concerns her lesbian activities before she was of legal age.

As with the previous transcript, “Q” indicates a question I am asking Millie, while “A” indicates her response. This has been transcribed from the original recording of the interview.

For this part of the interview, conducted one week after the first, Millie asked if she could bring her older daughter, Emily, age twelve, along to the interview. Since she had admitted to having sex with Emily in the previous interview, I decided to allow this. Any responses from Emily are indicated as “E” in the transcript of the interview.

I have been asked if these interviews stimulate me sexually. The simple answer is yes. In all honesty, any healthy and open-minded person, whether male or female, would surely find themselves stimulated by the content of these interviews. We might be scientists, but we are human as well. I myself am a healthy lesbian woman, age twenty-six, and am willing to admit that after Millie left the interview last week, I went home and masturbated myself to several orgasms. As a single woman, that is my most frequent means of sexual release.

This week, Millie requested we meet at my apartment near the college campus I attend. I agreed to this arrangement, mostly because if this interview aroused me as much as the previous one, there would be no need to drive home in order to provide myself relief from the resulting sexual tension. I mention this because of what happened in this interview.

***

Q: Hello, again, Millie. I see you brought your daughter with you today. Hello, Emily.

E: Hi.

(Taking assessment of this sexually precocious child, I note that she is very attractive with long dark hair and large, warm brown eyes. Emily is slender with lovely legs and budding breasts that are just big enough to tent the front of her top. She wears no bra, and the imprint of her nipples is clearly visible through the material.)

Q: So, Millie, are you ready to answer some questions in front of your daughter?

A: Certainly. In fact, I told her all about what we discussed last time.

Q: So, you told her about your bath time as a child?

E (laughing): How do you think she got started with me?

Q: Good point. Perhaps we can address that later. Millie, how many girls did you have sex with as a teenager?

A: (After considering the question) Five.

Q: Were they all your age or close to it?

A: Alex and Roxanne were, but the other three were younger than me.

Q: How much younger?

A: Lisa was ten, Riley was nine, and Terri was six.

Q: And how old were you when you had sex with each one?

A: Let’s see… I was fourteen with Lisa and Riley and fifteen with Terri.

Q: Last time, you told me about your first times with Alex when you were both eleven. How old were you when you first had sex with Roxanne?

A: Sixteen. I remember because we were both juniors in high school. Roxanne, though, was already seventeen by then. My birthday is in August, so I was sixteen my entire junior year. We hooked up around March or April when we were both in the school musical.

Q: Of these five, which one was the most fun?

A: Well, Alex was a lot of fun because she was my first with anyone, other than Mom, but I would have to say Lisa and Riley were the most interesting.

Q: You consider those two to be a tie?

A: Well, they’re sisters, thirteen months apart, so the three of us all did stuff together at the same time, so I can’t really choose just one of them.

Q: You had threesomes with Lisa and Riley?

A: Yes. They were lovers, too, you see.

Q: So, by now–

E (interrupting): I’ve had sex with all three, too – Lisa, Riley, and Terri.

Q: Really?

E: Yeah. Mommy still knows them.

Q: So, Lisa and Riley would be… twenty-seven and twenty-eight now, correct? And Terri would be twenty-three.

A: Yes. (Turns to Emily) Honey, don’t interrupt, okay? Suzanne will be asking you questions in a moment.

E: Okay. (Gives a deep sigh, the kind that only a young teen can do convincingly.)

Q: How did you first get together with Lisa and Riley?

A: They moved in two doors down from the house where I grew up. I saw my mother watching them play in their front yard, and I could tell she found them, well, attractive. I hadn’t really noticed them yet – they’d only been there two days – but when I looked over, I could see why my mother was so enamored of these girls. I immediately pictured myself lying in bed naked with them and doing all sorts of sexy things. I didn’t include Mom in the fantasy, though she would eventually take part.

(Millie paused, expecting another question, but I was already too fascinated by her story to think of one.)

Q: Go on. (Listening to the tape afterward, you can clearly hear how aroused I was.)

A: Well, I walked down to their house and introduced myself. Right away, I could see they thought it was weird that someone my age would seek them out. After all, I was fourteen, a high school freshman. They were in fourth and fifth grades. So I asked if their parents might need someone to sit with them if they wanted to go out sometime, as if I were looking for a babysitting job.

[As before, the transcript will now be shared temporarily as a dialogue.]

“We can watch over ourselves,” the older girl said. I figured her to be about ten or so. “We don’t need a sitter.”

I shifted gears, not wanting them to think I was treating them like little kids. “I was thinking maybe you had a younger brother or sister, you know, like four or five years old.”

“No. We’re it,” the younger girl said.

“Okay. Well, I’m Millie.”

“I’m Lisa,” the older one said, then pointed to her younger sister. “That’s Riley.”

“Hi. What’cha playing?” I asked.

They considered me again, obviously wondering why I would be interested in hanging out with them.

“Just kicking a soccer ball back and forth. Practicing,” Lisa said.

“Mind if I join you?” I asked.

“Why do you want to play with us?” Riley asked, frowning. “You’re, like, a teenager. Don’t you have friends your age?”

“Yeah, but they’re not around right now. Besides, teenagers know even better ways to have fun. I bet you two would have a lot more fun if you hung out with me.”

“What kind of fun?” Riley asked.

“You know. Older kid stuff.”

“Not drugs, right?” Lisa asked. “We don’t do stuff like that.”

“I don’t either,” I replied.

“Then what?” Riley asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe Truth or Dare?”

“We’ve played that before,” Lisa said, grinning.

“With someone my age…?” I replied. It’s true that I was being suggestive, but I didn’t want these girls to rush to that conclusion. Maybe they knew right away what I really wanted from them. I’d have to ask them now.

“Is Truth or Dare different when teenagers play it?” asked Riley.

“Try it out and see,” I challenged. “I’ll tell you this much… girls my age have more interesting truths to tell.”

I could see that Lisa was picking up on my meaning. She said, “Okay, I’ll play, but you have to let us ask the first question. Or make the first dare.”

“Deal,” I said. “Wanna come over to my house?”

“Why?” asked Riley. “What’s wrong with right here?”

“Because some dares you only want to do in private, dummy!” Lisa said, poking her younger sister.

Okay, now I knew that these two had definitely played the game as a way to get their friends to do things they wouldn’t do in public – like take off their clothes, expose parts of their bodies or even touch each other. They didn’t seem the type to stick to silly dares such as, “squawk like a bird,” or “touch your tongue to your nose.”

“So how about it?” I said, looking from one sister to the other. “Wanna come over?”

“You gotta meet our mom first,” Lisa said. “She won’t let us go into a house if it’s someone she doesn’t know.”

That made me a little nervous. What if the mom saw through my ploy? What if she wondered why a fourteen-year-old girl would want to play with her daughters?

“Okay,” I said, “but we have to tell her we’re going to play a different game… like Monopoly or something.”

“Of course,” Lisa said. “She wouldn’t like us to play Truth or Dare at anyone’s house, even someone our age. C’mon.” With that, she turned, beckoning me to follow, and I did.

Riley fell in beside me. “You wanna do some kind of sex stuff with us, huh?” Lisa was ahead of us and didn’t hear her sister say that.

Well, that caught me off guard. “What?” I gasped, trying to seem shocked.

She smiled. “It’s okay. Lisa and I do stuff with each other all the time. Every night, just about. See, we share a bed, ‘cause it’s a three-bedroom house. Our grandma sleeps in the other one. She lives with us.”

“You and your sister mess around together?”

“Of course. Don’t all sisters close to the same age do that?”

By that age, my little sister and I had explored just about every kind of lesbian sex there was, but I’d always figured we weren’t anything like a typical family.  “I… I never thought about it before.”

“We had neighbors where we used to live. Their kids were two brothers and two sisters, and they all did sex with each other.”

So they both had a good idea of what I was after. I felt relief, along with a twinge in my pussy. By then, we were entering the girls’ house, so we had to change the subject. Lisa called, “Mom?”

A woman who looked to be about thirty came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. “I asked you girls to stay out of my hair while I get the kitchen unpacked,” she said.

Lisa rolled her eyes. “We are, Mom. I just wanted you to meet our new neighbor, Millie. She invited us over to her house to play Monopoly.”

I could feel my panties getting damp at the sight of Lisa and Riley’s mother. It was easy to see where they got their looks from. I stood there like a ninny until she laughed and stepped over to me. Apparently, she was used to girls getting mad crushes on her.

She offered me her hand. “I’m Heather. Nice to meet you, Millie.”

“Nice to meet you,” I whispered.

Lisa was practically bouncing in place. “So, how about it? Can we go to her house?”

Heather’s eyes had me entranced. “Where do you live?” she asked.

I pointed toward my house. “Just two doors down.”

“Okay, then.” She turned to Riley and Lisa. “Girls? Behave yourselves.”

“We will,” Lisa said.

We left their place, the girls practically skipping along. It felt strange, how quickly these two had gone from, “Why do you want to be our friend?” to, “Let’s have some fun together!” Then again, they’d both easily figured out that my offer to play Truth or Dare was really an invitation to get naked and fool around.

Approaching my house, Riley picked up our chat from where we’d left off. “One time, we dared our friend Tina to take off all her clothes in front of everyone, and she did.”

Lisa came to an abrupt halt, totally alarmed. “Riley! What are you doing?”

“Talking about how we played Truth or Dare before.”

“You’re not supposed to tell anyone about that!”

“It’s okay,” I said. “That sounds a lot like the games of Truth or Dare I’ve played.”

Relieved, Lisa gave me a pleased smirk. “I figured maybe you had… but still, Riley shouldn’t be telling you anything about the stuff we’ve done, not till we get to know you better.”

“Don’t worry,” I said. “It sounds like we all like to play the same games.” Gazing into Lisa’s eyes, I casually fondled my breast. She licked her lips, looking down at my chest.

My mother was busy in our front yard. “Mom?”

“Hmmm?”

“We’re going inside to play some games. Is that okay?” We were at the front door by now, and she signaled me over to her. I walked over to where she was sitting and leaned down when she gestured for me to do that.

“What kind of games?”

“Truth or Dare.”

She grinned at me. She definitely knew what I was planning, or at least what I hoped would happen. “Should I leave you all alone for a while?”

“If you would, that would be great.”

“Is an hour enough?”

“It should be. I’m gonna close my bedroom door. If it’s still closed, be sure to knock.”

“Okay. Tell you what. I have to go to the grocery store anyway. How’s an hour and a half sound?”

I grinned. “Even better.”

I led Lisa and Riley inside and to my bedroom, closing the door.

“Your mom’s pretty,” Lisa said.

“So’s yours.”

“So, I get to go first,” Lisa said. “Since blabbermouth over there already let you know we’re into sexy stuff when playing this, I have to ask – are you okay with that?”

“Okay with it? I was counting on it.”

Lisa grinned. “Okay. First, will your mom be busting in on us, or does she respect a closed door?”

“She definitely respects a closed door.”

“Okay, truth or dare?”

“Dare,” I said, wanting to get the action going as soon as possible. No point in dragging this game out, I figured – these girls knew what I wanted.

“Take off your top and bra.”

“That’s all?”

Lisa’s eyes widened. “Okay then, take off everything.”

I stood up and began to undress, keeping an eye on Riley and Lisa as I got naked in front of them. I had boobs by then, though they were still small, and they both gasped when my bra came off. When they saw my pubic hair, they responded the same way.

“You’ve got hair on your pussy,” Riley said, staring.

“Of course I do. I’m fourteen. You will too, in a few years.”

They stared at my nudity as if trying to memorize it for later. That thought got my pussy even juicier than it already was.

I sat down, spreading my legs wide so they could get a good look at my spread pussy lips. I didn’t have to look to know I was dripping wet. I could feel it on the inside of my thighs, even trickling down into the crack of my ass.

I gave them both a big smile. “Okay, it’s Riley’s turn.”

Riley looked at Lisa, who shook her head. “Not me. Remember? We each get to ask her something, either a truth or dare, to start off. You can ask me next time around.”

“Okay,” Riley said, then turned to me. “Truth or Dare.”

“Truth.”

“Ever touch yourself to get off?”

“You mean… do I masturbate?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

“Absolutely. Like, practically every day.”

“Wow,” Riley whispered.

I was amazed at how nicely this was going. I’d met these two cuties maybe twenty minutes ago, and already I was sitting naked and spread-legged in front of them, openly admitting how much I like to masturbate.

“Okay,” I said, “my turn.” I looked at Lisa. “Truth or Dare?”

She considered before saying, “Truth.”

“Do you give yourself orgasms?”

“Like masturbating to them?”

“That’s one way,” I said.

“Yeah.”

“So you have had orgasms?”

“Uh-huh.”

“How often?”

“That’s another question!” Riley said. “You have to wait ’til next time around to ask that.”

“It’s okay. I’ll answer,” Lisa said. “Every night. Sometimes in the daytime.”

“Your turn, Lisa,” Riley said, obviously wanting to keep this theme going.

“Riley? Truth or Dare?”

“Dare.”

Just what I wanted. “Take off all your clothes.”

Riley smiled, as if she’d both expected and hoped for that dare. Standing up, she stripped off all her clothing, soon standing naked in front of Lisa and me. I couldn’t wait to explore that beautiful little-girl body. Her bare slit looked delicious.

Sitting, she turned to Lisa. “Truth or–”

Before she could finish getting the words out, Lisa answered, “Dare.” It was obvious what she wanted Riley to ask for, and her sister didn’t disappoint. “Take off your clothes and get naked like us.”

***

At this point of the interview, I glance over at Millie’s daughter, Emily. She has a hand inside her shorts.

Q: Emily?

E: Sorry. Mommy’s story is getting me hot. Like I said, I’ve had sex with Lisa and Riley, and thinking of them back then kinda makes me need to get myself off. You don’t mind, do you?

Q: Millie, are you okay with that? Do you mind if your daughter masturbates?

A: Not at all. In fact, why don’t you undress and do it, honey?

E: (smiles) Okay.

Emily stands and disrobes. When she is nude, she sits down again and begins to fondle her slit.

E: Go on, Mom. (She smiles mischievously.)

[Dialogue continues]

So, Lisa got naked, and now we were all sitting together in a sort of circle, looking at each other. Lisa and Riley seemed especially interested in my boobs.

“Whose turn is it?” I asked.

“Yours,” Riley said.

I turn to Lisa. “Masturbate for one minute.”

She swallowed, realizing exactly where this was going, which was probably exactly where she’d hoped it would.

Reaching down to her pussy, she began rubbing it, gently at first. As her sister and I could hear, she was already pretty wet. After a minute or so, she said, “Forget this stupid game. Do it with me, okay?”

We didn’t need to be told twice. In seconds, all three of us were masturbating.

As we got ourselves close, I asked Riley and Lisa about their relationship. “Do you two really mess around with each other?”

“Yeah,” they said simultaneously.

“Have you ever had your pussy licked?”

The sisters looked at each other, then back at me, still fingering their pussies. “You won’t think we’re weird?” Lisa asked.

“Of course not.”

“Then yeah. We lick each other.”

“Did you come that way?” I asked.

“Lots of times,” Riley said.

With that, I stopped masturbating and got down between Lisa’s thighs, planting a kiss on Lisa’s pussy before extending my tongue to lick.

“Oooohhh!” she said and lay back.

I turned to Riley. “Let Lisa lick you, and then you lick me! We’ll do a daisy chain.”

Neither of the girls were familiar with the term, so I took a moment to explain. Riley understood right away and put herself in position for Lisa to lick before fitting herself into the circle and going down on me. I watched as Lisa began to lick Riley’s pussy, and seeing that was nearly enough to make me come right then. It was obvious that they fucked, and not just once in a while, but a lot.

Soon, Lisa’s hips began to twitch and jerk as her orgasm approached. Just as she went over the edge, I joined her. Seconds later, Riley came, humping her sister’s mouth hard. If my mom had been outside my door, she would have definitely known we were enjoying a massive group orgasm. None of us held back with our moans and screams as the climaxes took us.

Afterward, we lay back to catch our breath.

“You think we could do this again sometime?” Lisa asked.

“Sure,” I said. “How about right now? Let’s turn the other way!” Shifting my position, I spun myself around and started licking Riley’s pussy. The soft flesh of her pubes were pressed against my mouth as if her pussy was kissing me back. She was delicious, her juices, such as they were at her young age, seeped from her vagina. I could also detect a hint of pee.

Her reaction was immediate. “Oh, wow!” she exclaimed as I applied my lips and tongue to her mound. She began to do the same for her sister. Just like that, we were in another daisy chain, with Riley licking Lisa and Lisa licking me.

After licking Riley for a minute or two, I moved my mouth to her rosebud. Apparently, she had never been rimmed before. “That’s my butthole!” she exclaimed, as if I was licking her there by mistake. My tongue was pressed against the sensitive pucker, stimulating it with small licks.

“Yeah, I know,” I said, briefly raising my head. “Feels good, huh?” Then I licked her there again.

Riley was squirming against my mouth. “Oh, fuck, yes! It feels great!” she exclaimed.

“Hey! Don’t stop licking me!” Lisa said to Riley.

“Sorry,” Riley said, and returned to licking Lisa, then Lisa got back to pleasuring me.

[Note: At this point in Millie’s story, I look over at her twelve-year-old daughter Emily. She is rubbing her pussy to an orgasm that I know is very near. I do my best not to touch myself, already anticipating how this lovely young girl will taste when I finally get my mouth on her. I continue to watch as she masturbates to her mother’s story. Millie’s narrative now continues while I keep stealing looks at Emily’s pubescent pussy.]

After a moment, Lisa stopped for a moment. “What’s it like to lick a butthole?” she asked.

“If it’s clean like mine and your sister’s, it’s great!” I said. I returned to licking Riley, moving my tongue from her small clit to her rosebud and back, bathing her most sensitive areas.

I could feel a small hesitation before I felt Lisa’s mouth move suddenly to my anus, as if she were doing it before she could talk herself out of it. Then her tongue began to move, and I was in heaven.

“Lick my butt, Riley,” Lisa said quickly before returning to my own butthole.

Riley glanced up at her sister. “Are you sure?”

“Totally. Do it! You’ll like it. I’m still clean from my bath this morning.”

The sudden gasp from Lisa told me her sister was now licking her rosebud for the first time. “Oh, God, that feels awesome!” she exclaimed before returning to her own feast.

I could feel my orgasm approaching and figured it was going to be a good one, but I was wrong. It was amazing. I did my best to keep from flailing all over the bed, not wanting to dislodge my pussy and butthole from Lisa’s mouth. To her credit, she was able to stay with me as my body trembled and shook.

Almost immediately after I came, Lisa went off. Her orgasm seemed to do the same thing mine had: grab on and not let go. She shook and jerked for what seemed like minutes, but was probably just twenty or thirty seconds or so. It was a long orgasm, though.

All through this, I kept my mouth glued to Riley’s little pussy and rosebud, continuing to lick up and down and bringing her enormous pleasure. After Lisa was done with her come, Riley began to tremble and shake as her own orgasm kicked in.

“Uuggghhhh!” she cried as she came. Her body heaved and shook until all was quiet. We three lay in my bed, catching our breath.

By the time the afternoon was over, we’d licked each other to three orgasms apiece. When we were done, Riley wanted to have fun with my budding breasts. Lisa was into that, so soon each sister had one boob to suck and lick while I played with their cute bottoms. I wanted to put my fingers in their buttholes, but figured it was too early for that.

Soon it was nearly time for Mom to get home. Of course, she wouldn’t have had any problem with seeing us naked and cuddling. More likely, she’d have stripped down and joined the party. But I wasn’t quite ready for Lisa and Riley to know that Mom and I were lovers.

So we got dressed, and when my mother arrived, we were playing Chinese checkers on my freshly made bed.

***

Her story complete, Millie relaxed, though I noticed she was somewhat flushed. She was silent for a moment, then spoke.

A: And that was the beginning of a lifelong love affair.

Q: Did you end up telling the girls about your mother?

A: Oh, of course! And my sister, too. Within a week, we were all having sex.

Q: And you still see each other?

A: Absolutely. I took Emily and Piper there just three days ago. It’s always fun when we do that.

E: Ooohhh… I’m about to come, Mommy!

We watch as Emily brings herself to orgasm. After she finishes, Millie leans over to give her daughter a kiss that is anything but motherly. It’s a lover’s kiss, complete with lots of tongue from them both.

Turning to me, Millie says, “Emily and I are going to fuck now. You can join in if you want, or you can watch.”

I chose to take off my clothes and join in. The details of what followed will be included in the next part of this study.

On to Chapter Three!