Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

Author Unknown

Note from JetBoy: This one’s a complete mystery. I was certain that it originated at Leslita, but can’t find it at the old site. What appears here is a polished and expanded version of mine that I posted at the forum, the one that us old-timers used to socialize at before The Man shut it down about four years ago. I made quite a few changes, but not enough that I’d feel comfortable posting it as a JetBoy story — so here it is, credited to our extremely prolific Author Unknown. Hope you dig it.

*****

I should give you a bit of background about myself. I am 42, and once was bisexual. Now I’m more or less a lesbian, although I can’t swear that I’ll never say yes to a male ever again. I have always been a sexual being and I have masturbated from as early as I can remember.

My first memory of sex with another person was with a girl who lived across the street. Her name was Wendy Haughton, and we first explored each other under a blanket on a vacant lot one night. I also remember us making out in the presence of her mother, who encouraged us. She was a lesbian, and approved of us preferring girls to boys.

After that I had sex with a couple of boys and oh, half a dozen or so girls, but I never involved myself in a steady thing with anyone until I was seventeen, when I had a lesbian affair with another girl about my age named Bernadette.

While we were an item, she invited me down to her family’s beach house for a week. It was a delightful place, and I had a simply smashing time. Berna and I would go to dances at night and flirt with boys, then come back to her place, slipping into bed and enjoying each other’s naked bodies in the early hours.

After lunch one afternoon we were sitting on the back veranda, being lazy and loving it. Berna and her mother were playing chess, her father and her older brother were watching TV and I was reading when Berna’s younger sister Therese, or ‘Tilly’ as she was called, came in from the beach. She had a large beach towel wrapped around her swimsuit, which she took off and shook, showering us with sand. Berna growled at her to stop being a pest.

Tilly was nearly eleven and was a picture in her white swimsuit… pretty, slim, dark hair and a nice body; her figure was boyish, with no curves to speak of. Of course I’d always liked Tilly and thought her sweet and attractive, but that was as far as it went.

I had my legs crossed, still buried in my book, when Tilly straddled one of my feet and demanded that I “take her to Banbury Cross”.

What she wanted was an old nursery game rhyme where a child sits on an adult’s foot and holds their hands as they are jigged up and down while repeating “Ride a cock horse to Banbury Cross, to see a lady upon a white horse.” There are more words than that, but you get the idea.

I remember saying that she was too big for that, but agreed anyway. Tilly sat on my foot and grasped my hands while I jigged her up and down and chanted the rhyme.

No one paid any attention, and largely neither did I — until after a minute or so, I became aware of Tilly’s thighs clamping on my ankle. When I looked up, her face was red and she was emitting short, silent, compressed gasps. I wasn’t alarmed, but I was fascinated.

Suddenly, as the child’s little gasps coincided with the clenching of her thighs, I realized that Tilly was having an orgasm!

I was alarmed that this was happening while Tilly’s whole family was present, although at least they weren’t paying attention. But I wasn’t freaked out about the girl rubbing herself off. After all, I did that myself most nights and had for as long as I could remember, sometimes even after making love with another person!

Suddenly Tilly paused, her eyes squeezed tightly shut, took a long, deep breath, then stopped her rocking. No one seemed to have noticed anything. She smiled at me and removed herself from my foot. I smiled back at her and then, unable to help myself, stole a glance at the crotch of the child’s swimsuit, thrilled to see what appeared to be a damp spot.

I was talked into a game of cards and didn’t play well, because all I could think of was Tilly — her bare legs, her thin body, and that special part of her that had touched my leg. I even rubbed my fingers over my ankle and then furtively sniffed them, but could smell nothing.

That night we didn’t go out, and in the evening when I was sure everyone was in bed I fell on Berna with a passion that seemed to startle her. We made passionate love, and all through it I imagined I was doing it with Tilly.

Later, after Berna had fallen asleep, I had another orgasm by myself; this time with Tilly as the object of my fantasies.

The next day we played tennis, and I enjoyed watching Tilly’s lovely calves and her short skirt whipping around to give me tantalizing glimpses of her upper thighs and her underwear. I must admit I was a little bit surprised by her white panties, which were rather sheer, barely exposing the cleft of her bottom. I tried to get a look at her pussy through the nylon but I couldn’t, or at least I didn’t.

After lunch I declined to go to the beach and announced that I would go for a walk, and was overjoyed when Tilly said she would come with me.

As we walked, I gazed at her in her short little tennis skirt and her white blouse with black stripes and the crocodile logo. By now, after watching her on the court she had become unbearably sexy to me. I don’t know even to this day if I had decided that I wanted to have sex with Tilly. I suppose I did, but while I’d fantasized about it I hadn’t actually planned anything. Not consciously anyway. Just the same I ask myself whether she had made up her mind to seduce me that day.

When a gap appeared at the side of the unpaved road and I suggested we follow it to see where it led, I think in retrospect that sex with this little girl was what I had in mind. I think I wanted to have Tilly away from the view of other people. And that was what I got.

Tilly and I wandered along the bush track and, as if the gods or goddesses had planned it for us, there were two large rocks that had surely been there for thousands of years. I suggested we stop for a rest and sat down. I must confess that I knew my short skirt and the way I was sitting with my legs wide apart left me mostly bare below the waist. I didn’t care; I wanted Tilly to see.

When she asked if she could ride my foot and go to Banbury Cross, I was overjoyed. Thrilled out of my mind would be another way to put it…

I crossed my legs, Tilly sat on my foot, and I began to bounce her and to sing the rhyme. Sure enough, after a minute I could see it was happening again. Tilly was plainly aroused and the pressure of her sex became noticeable against my foot. Then as she held my hands she began to pull herself upwards, her crotch sliding higher up my leg. I let her come, noticing how beautiful and kissable her lips were, until I felt her crotch on my ankle, then my shin, then just below my knee.

By this time, Tilly’s movements were too obvious to ignore any more. She was grinding her slit against me, her lips parted, a dreamy look on her face. Then when our eyes met, I must have flashed a signal to her, because she reached down to pull her skirt away and, exposing the gusset of her panties, tugged it aside to allow flesh on flesh contact between us.

I got a very good look at her smooth vulva, the soft petals of her labia and, I was fairly certain, the inflamed nub of her clitoris. I was on fire for her.

Once again our eyes met, and with a glance I acknowledged what we were doing and that everything before had changed. After looking around to make sure we were not on view, I slipped a hand up my own skirt, raising it to show my own panties. Slipping a hand beneath the elastic waistband, I tucked my fingers between my thighs and began to masturbate. It felt lovely, but was too difficult to do with all my clothes on.

Finally I let my skirt fall back down, gave Tilly a sweet smile and whispered, “Let’s take our panties off.”

I watched the little girl as she removed her skirt and underpants for me, then she watched me do the same for her. So there we stood, bare-bottomed, in our tennis shoes and socks, staring at one another. I reached out for her hand, then drew her to me, taking this exquisite half-naked child into my arms. She gazed up at me with such adoring eyes that I couldn’t help but whisper, “I love you, Tilly.”

She blushed so sweetly that I found myself blinking away tears. “I love you too,” she said, and our mouths just seemed to naturally drift together in a kiss.

I gently undressed her, then she helped me out of what I still had on. Then we made a bed of our clothes in a smooth hollow of one of the big rocks and lay down together, completely naked and sharing juicy kisses.

Tilly was shy at first, but I patiently guided her, and soon my lover’s sweet little sister and I were joyously exploring lesbian pleasures together.

We loved each other in the open air, beneath a beautiful blue sky, and by the time we had finished. I’d taught her all I knew about breast play; the many ways of bringing a woman’s sex to utter rapture with fingers, lips and tongue; the joys to be found between her buttocks. I’d shown her these wonders, then she tried them out on me. Finally we lay together atop our clothes, cuddling and sharing caresses until the afternoon sun began to wane, and we had to get dressed and go back.

I never got the chance to make love to Tilly again. We were only there for another two days, and there was never an opportunity for us to slip away from the others. Then Berna and I ended up breaking things off a couple of weeks later, so I no longer had any plausible reason to be around her baby sister — not that I didn’t rack my brain trying to think of one!

Years later, I wonder whatever became of Tilly, and regret that I never sought her out after she grew into womanhood. Who knows what might have been…

Had Tilly seduced me? Or did I seduce her? I never really knew for certain. All I knew is that we’d wanted sex with each other. So we took the plunge — and nearly a quarter-century later, it’s still my most cherished memory.

The End

1

Error happened.

by Kinky_Becky

{ This story was originally posted at Lush Stories in June 2013 }

My name is Becky. Well, quite honestly it’s not, but I only tell a few select friends my real name. I grew up in a typical middle-class neighborhood in Louisiana.

When I was ten, my little sister died. She was born with birth defects, and spent most of her life in and out of hospitals. After she died, my parents were always fighting and my dad soon took a job as a long-distance truck driver. He’d be on the road for weeks at a time, and then come home for two or three days. With all the medical bills, Mom still had to work, and I quickly became like a mother to my two younger brothers.

Mom would typically get home about 9 or 10 PM. I’d have dinner ready for her, and we’d sit in the living room and talk after my little brothers were in bed. It made me feel special. I saw the struggles she had to endure, and she saw mine. It made us love and respect each other so much more.

I guess I was what you would call a late bloomer. I didn’t even get my period until I was sixteen. I was always rather flat-chested and lanky, and boys just didn’t seem to pay much attention to me. It probably didn’t help that I didn’t feel sexy, or even pretty. Besides, I kind of equated men to my father.

Sure, I had a few boyfriends here and there, but I just never really felt that connection. After a while, I started wondering if there was something wrong with me. I remember asking a high school guidance counselor if I was gay. She told me it was too early to tell, and that I should give it some time.

Now being the type-A personality that I am, I started to read as much as I could on sexuality. After all, it’s a huge part of who we are. I didn’t want to become the sexless person my mother seemed to be. I would go to the library and browse through books. I found ones at the nearby university had pictures in them. But most of my information came from pornographic magazines. Some of them I confiscated from my little brothers. Some I stole from my friends’ dads.

The first few magazines I acquired were just your typical glossy skin mags like Playboy. They showed a few erotic pictures, but rarely anything explicit. But then I found my best friend’s father’s collection under his bathroom sink, which was considerably more hardcore than what I’d seen before, including some extremely smutty paperback novels. I remember sneaking a couple of them home and reading the stories over and over again, not to mention looking at all the sexy pictures, which were much more explicit than Playboy.

It was also about this time that Mom bought me a new computer. She got it primarily for me to write papers on when I started at the community college in the spring. Of course it didn’t take long to find several bulletin boards dedicated to sex. Every night, I would sit at my computer, recording my thoughts and fantasies in my electronic diary.

Over time, I realized that many of my fantasies involved women, particularly the really steamy ones. It’s funny how it all progressed. At first, I thought boys at school were cute and sexy. Later on, I developed a penchant for older men, like the ones in the magazines. But eventually, my focus was on the women in those magazines, those beautiful, sexy women.

That’s how I spent pretty much the entire last semester of my senior year, fantasizing about what it would be like to touch another girl. As soon as school was out, I’d rush home and finish any homework I had. My little brothers really weren’t so little anymore, so as soon as I finished making dinner, I’d sneak off to my room until my mom came home. And every day, that desire in me just grew and grew until I finally had the courage to do something about it.

It was the last week of my senior year. I had gym my last period and another girl and I got tasked to take down the volleyball nets and clean up after school. I really didn’t know Jennifer that well. She was one of the popular rich kids and hung out with a completely different group. Still, she was very attractive and I took every opportunity to check her out. Knowing it was our last week of school, I felt a little emboldened.

While we were sweeping the locker room floors, Ms. Crabtree, our PE teacher, told us to make sure the doors were locked when we left. No sooner had she left, Jennifer was putting the broom up and pulling off her top, saying, “Enough of this bullshit.” I smiled back at her and started undressing as well, taking every opportunity to look Jennifer’s way.

Compared to me, she was gorgeous. She was about two inches taller, with long flowing blonde locks that I had admired many times before. She was probably a C-cup, but that was still much larger than mine, and her ass looked like an upside-down heart when she bent over to slide off her panties. I immediately went into daydream mode.

When I looked up, she was looking directly into my eyes, a big grin on her face. I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks. Jennifer’s grin widened as she asked me, bold as brass, “See anything you like?”

I blushed even more and mumbled a response that included a ‘sorry’ or two and a weakly mumbled “Yes.” Like I said, I felt emboldened. Jennifer didn’t even bat an eye; she just turned and headed for the showers. All I could think as she walked away was nice ass.

I slid my panties off, which were now visibly moist, and hesitantly walked into the showers, boldly picking a shower head that was a mere ten feet from where the warm water was cascading down Jennifer’s body.

I was rinsing the shampoo from my hair, trying my best to wash my impure thoughts of this girl out of my head, when I felt a light tap on my shoulder. I squealed and spun around, causing Jennifer to squeal as well. It certainly lightened the mood, and when I stopped giggling, I noticed this flaxen haired goddess was naked, standing right in front of me.

She was smiling as my eyes fell to her breasts and then down over her belly to her pubic hair, all neatly trimmed and lying flat from the wetness against her mons. Her hair now looked almost brown, draped against her neck as the beads of water dripped down her body. I was completely mesmerized… awestruck!

It seemed like hours that she just stood there. I know it was only seconds, but it was long enough for a million images to flash through my head, thoughts of all the things I wanted to do to her. I could feel the wetness trailing down my legs, unsure if it was the shower or my own excitement. I finally snapped back to reality and looked up at her. She smiled again, the same sexy smile those women in Playboy gave the camera. I wanted to say something, but nothing would come out.

Jennifer just looked at me, almost giggling at my obvious predicament and power she had over me. “Could you wash my back, please?” she asked.

With a hell of a lot more confidence than I felt, I managed a reply. “Sure, as long as you wash mine.”

“I’d love to,” she smiled.

Jennifer turned around, presenting her backside to me, moving beneath the flowing water. Biting my lower lip, I moved to the side, pushed her hair over her shoulders, and slowly began running the soap in tiny circles over her flawless skin. I started at her shoulders, feeling the smooth, feminine flesh under my fingertips. As I continued touching her, my excitement grew, as did my confidence. I crept forward, my hip contacting her buttocks.

Tiny bolts of electricity seemed to course from her body into mine. I’d kissed a couple of boys before that, but it felt nothing like this. My entire body tingled and vibrated, starting anywhere her flesh touched mine — up through my hair, down through my toes, then ricocheting and coursing back through me. I edged forward some more, feeling my breasts against her back. My nipples were fully erect, and I knew she could feel them brushing her skin.

It must have taken me about five minutes to get to the small of her back. Now what? I thought to myself. Jennifer answered that as she bent forward, presenting her ass to me. Slowly, my hand created little circles on her cheeks. I shifted over to the side, bending down slightly as my hand snaked lower.

I’m not sure if it was confidence or lust, but my fingers finally slipped into her crack, and Jennifer let out a very soft moan. I took this as an encouraging signal and delved deeper, searching for her sex. At the same time, I slipped my leg between hers, pressing my thigh against her ass. I was running on pure instinct, conjuring up experiences I’d read about in dozens of fantasies and erotic stories.

When I finally felt her slit parting around my fingers, Jennifer shuddered. She stood and turned around, looking deeply into my eyes. I could see the surprise she felt, but there was something else as well, something I just couldn’t put my finger on.

You idiot, I thought to myself. You’ve gone too far and now she’s going to tell the whole school. You’re going to walk across the stage at graduation and everyone’s going to know what you did. They’re going to know you’re a lesbian.

With a shaky voice, I stammered, “I’m s-sorry.”

Jennifer looked confused. Taking my face in her hands, she looked me square in the eyes and said, “Oh Becky, you have nothing to be sorry about. That was the best back washing I’ve ever had.” She took a step forward. Leaning in, she kissed my lips ever so gently.

This time, those little electric shocks had a lot more voltage. They shook me to the bone. Seeing that I wasn’t going to back away, Jennifer leaned in once again, her kiss much more forceful this time. And this time, I responded, kissing her back with every bit of passion and lust that I felt inside.

My nipples got so erect that I could feel them aching. It was like they wanted to burst out the front of my breasts. Slowly, I found my instincts taking over. Still kissing my new lover, I lifted my hands to her upper arms, slid them over the top of her shoulders and down, stopping when I finally reached the small of her back.

I moaned with my lips against hers as I pulled her towards me, no longer the timid schoolgirl. I opened my mouth and took her bottom lip between mine. I think that shocked her, as I could hear her gasp a little. But then I felt her tongue against mine as she opened her mouth, moaning as we pulled our bodies together.

I could feel her soapy breasts against mine, sliding together. I could feel her stomach, her thighs. I could feel her pubic bone rub against mine, the coarse pubic hairs scratching so deliciously against my own smooth mound. We were both lost in the moment, consumed by lust, kissing as passionately as we knew how. Our tongues danced frantically as we ground our bodies together, working ourselves closer and closer to that pinnacle.

Jennifer wrapped her arms around my neck, hugging me tighter, mashing our breasts together. I became desperate to make her feel as wonderful as I felt. I reached around, grabbing her ass cheeks and pulled her into me. As I did, she moaned loudly, reaching around to my ass to do the same.

As I reached up to grab her breast, we heard a banging on the locker room door. We froze. Shaken back to reality, I yelled out, “Girls changing! Girls changing in here.”

That was when we heard Mr. Baker, the vice-principal, his voice echoing throughout the locker room. “Ms. Crabtree asked me to check on you two. She said you should be done by now. What the hell is taking you two so long?”

“We needed to take a shower. We got ourselves all hot and sweaty,” Jennifer said, giggling into my shoulder.

“Jennifer Jenkins, your mother is waiting to pick you up. She’s been sitting in my office for half an hour. I suggest you both get a move on. You’ve got five minutes.”

We both yelled out to him that we’d hurry up and heard the door bang closed. Not wanting to let Jennifer go, I reached back behind me to turn off the shower. As I did, I felt a pair of lips on my right nipple. I gasped, letting my moan bellow out and fill the entire locker room, not caring if Mr. Baker could hear or not. Not wanting to be left out, I reached up and took one of her breasts in my hand. It felt so different than my own, so soft, so heavy.

Once again, I was getting lost in her. That is until I heard Mr. Baker banging on the door once again, causing Jennifer to jump away in fear. She started to turn away to grab her towel, but I grabbed her hand. She looked back at me and I smiled and said, “I want a turn at that.”

Smiling, she poked out her chest at me, saying, “Be my guest.”

So many times I had fantasized about this, and now it was reality, if a rushed reality. Slowly, I lowered my head, opening my mouth slightly. As I wrapped my lips around her areola, my tongue began to caress her nipple. Leaning forward, I opened my mouth wider, taking as much of her breast into my mouth as I could, sucking the beads of water from her flesh. Jennifer moaned out her encouragement as I felt her hands on the back of my wet hair, pulling me into her.

BANG, BANG, BANG. I could feel the pounding, shaking me back to reality.

“Don’t make me come in there and drag you girls out. Get out of the shower, NOW!”

We knew he was serious, even the part about coming in after us. So that was as far as things went.

As we were getting dressed, I said to Jennifer, “I just want you to know that this is the first time I’ve done anything like this before. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, you know, about girls. But I’ve never done anything. Really, I hadn’t intended on doing anything except checking you out today. And since we’re both graduating, I thought that it would be okay, even if you caught me. But that was really great. I’m staying here all summer. Maybe we could hang out sometime?”

Jennifer just smiled. Not knowing her well at all, I wasn’t really prepared for her reply. “Look, you’re cute and all, and I liked fooling around with you, but that’s as far as it goes. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re not really my type… and I’m not looking for any new friends.” She patted my shoulder. “Thanks, though. I had fun.” With that, she walked out.

I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised. Still, it hurt like hell. I was completely heartbroken and cried the entire walk home. When I got home, I went straight to my room and sobbed myself to sleep on my bed.

When Mom got home, she knew something was wrong right away. She came in and sat on my bed, rubbing my shoulders while I wept. She asked, “Who hurt you this way, sweetheart?” with such a loving tone in her voice that all I could do was hug her.

She was still there the next morning. After my brothers left for their last day of school, she took me to her room for a nice long talk. It had been so long since Mom cuddled me in her bed, and I found it utterly comforting. After I’d settled down, I told her the whole story — everything. I told her about kissing Jennifer, even the other things we did. Then I described how I’d shared my feelings with this girl, and how she’d immediately given me the big brush-off.

My mother was wonderful about it. She told me how she’d been with a girl when she was my age too. That part shocked me beyond belief. I never thought of Mom as sexual in any way, despite having four kids. Besides, we were always told girls in the Fifties didn’t even let a boy get to second base until they were married. Suddenly, I didn’t feel so alone.

She went on to explain that there are a lot of mean-hearted people in the world, people that care only for themselves. Mom told me that she’d had her heart broken a number of times, and how you never get used to it, but that you should learn from the experience. She also echoed what my counselor had told me months before, that it was still too early to say if I was a lesbian, or even bisexual.

What I remember most, and always will remember, is how gentle and understanding my mother was. As we sat in the kitchen making cookies, Mom told me how proud she was of me. When she saw the bewilderment in my eyes, she explained that she was proud of me for who I was. She was proud that I hadn’t responded to Jennifer with the same cruelty that she’d shown me. She was proud because I felt brave enough to seek out what I wanted. And more importantly, she was proud that I trusted her enough to tell her about my feelings for girls.

We spent the whole day together, and I began seeing my mother in a whole new light. I also began seeing myself in a whole new way. And two days later, when I walked across the stage to receive my diploma, I held my head up high. And when Jennifer walked across the stage to receive hers, I just smiled to myself thinking, “Yep, I tapped that.”

*****

The summer before I started college was a time of exploration for me. My brothers were always gone, leaving at the crack of dawn to hang out with friends, not coming back until well after dark. Being the oldest, Mom always left me in charge and as soon as they left, I would deadbolt the doors. In the rare event that they came home, I’d tell them I was cleaning the house and I didn’t want them messing it up. Of course that was a lie; I just wanted my own personal time.

A couple of weeks into it, Mom told me she had to go out of town for work and asked me to take care of the boys. My mom was a nurse and every few months she’d have to go out of town for a conference. It was always just for a few days, and I pretty much raised my brothers anyway. I never thought much about it, but I did miss the evening chats we’d have when she came home.

My brothers were already out of the house when I helped Mom load up her car. She gave the address and telephone number of the hotel she’d be staying at, and kissed my cheek before climbing in the car. I watched as she backed out the driveway, feeling a little conflicted. In one sense, I didn’t want to see her go. On the other, I knew her absence meant a lot more free time for self-exploration.

I locked the doors as soon as I was inside and had my clothes off before the computer even booted up. I went straight for one of my favorite bulletin boards and started looking at pictures of sexy girls. It was painful how long it took for a single picture to load up, but to me, it was well worth the wait. I also had several magazines out.

After a particularly sexy picture loaded onto the screen, I came up with the bright idea of saving it to a floppy disc. I looked all over the desk, but all of them were used. I knew Mom usually kept a supply in her closet, so I peeled myself from the screen, dried my hands off, and walked naked into her room.

Her closet was an absolute disaster. There were at least a dozen shoe boxes, camera cases, and clothes everywhere. I was just about to give up when my curiosity took over.

Now I never snooped through my parents’ stuff, even when I was little. But I was feeling very mischievous at the time. So I knelt down on the floor, my ass jutting in the air as I rummaged through her belongings.

Even after I found a box of blank floppies, I continued to dig through the boxes. I was amazed at the things she kept. There was a box filled with crafts that I made for her when I was little, bits of macaroni and glitter covering the bottom, but she’d put tissue paper inside to protect it like it was a masterpiece.

Then, underneath a pile of sweaters, I found a briefcase. I thought it was rather odd, since I never saw either of my parents carry one. I tried to pop the clasps open, but it was locked with a combination. I shook it a few times and could tell there was something in it, and as persistent and goal-oriented as I am, I sat back on the bed, starting with 000, and tried each and every number until the lock popped open. The combinations were the same for both sides… 248, my mother’s birth month and year.

My heart raced as I opened the case, beating even faster when I saw its contents. Lying in the bottom were several dildos and vibrators, including one with straps.

I picked that one up and held it in my hands. The thing was huge. I was completely flabbergasted. I had seen several pictures of women fucking women with dildos, even strap-ons, but I couldn’t fathom why my mother would own one.

The pockets held a collection of magazines, but not just any old magazines. This was hard core porn — lesbian porn. As I held the heavy shaft of that silicone cock in my hand, it suddenly became clear. My mother liked women. I smiled as I recalled the confession she’d made to me about her college days. At the time, I thought Mom was telling me that she’d just experimented once or twice. In fact, I’d later wondered whether she just told me that to make me feel better. Now, I was seeing my mother in a whole new light.

I looked down at the dildo. I’m not sure why it didn’t occur to me before, but I was suddenly aware that this cock I was holding was my mother’s. It had been inside her. She masturbated with it; fucked herself with it. The idea turned me on immensely, images of her face racing through my mind. I brought it to my nose, sniffing it, expecting to smell her — but it only bore the scent of rubber and soap. I was disappointed, to say the least, and wasn’t even sure why

Putting it aside, I grabbed the magazines and thumbed through them. They weren’t all that different from ones I had seen before, except for only featuring lesbian content, but just knowing they belonged to my mother made looking at them seem forbidden, and that made it all the more exciting to me.

Behind where the briefcase had been was a lockbox. I’d seen it before. I remember asking my mother what was in it and she just told me, “important papers.” At the time, I took that to mean birth certificates, marriage certificates, and things like that. But now, curiosity had taken its hold on me. I turned the numbers on the dial, trying 2-4-8 first. That didn’t work, but 2-1-48 sure did.

At first, I was disappointed. There were a few floppy drives and a few documents, mostly letters. But as I picked up the letters, I saw several Polaroid pictures under them, pictures of an older woman and a girl about my age. Others had my mom as well. Even more striking was the fact that all of them were naked, and in several of them, they were touching each other. Oh hell, why mince words? My mother was fucking them, fucking and licking them both. They were the hottest, most explicit pictures I’d ever seen.

After examining each and every picture quite closely, I turned my attentions to the letters. I noticed that the envelopes were addressed to my mother, but the address was a post office box. My heart raced as I pulled the first one out.

I should have been angry when I realized it was a love letter. I should have been infuriated that she was cheating on my dad. Perhaps if I didn’t know exactly how she felt, I would have been.

You see, Dad was always on the road, often for months at a time. He only came home when he could arrange a load close to our town. A lot of times he only spent the night, long enough for Mom to wash his clothes. It was like he used the house as a motel. He still took care of us financially, for the most part, but I still felt like he abandoned us, and I’m sure that Mom felt the same way.

I went through each and every sentence, every single word of that letter. It was beautifully written, expressing a love that was so sincere that even I could feel it. I learned that the name of the woman in the picture was Allison. The younger girl was her daughter, Cindy.

It took me much longer than it should have to realize the implications of that, how my mother was involved in a sexual relationship with another woman and her daughter. More than that, I was stunned to learn that Allison and her own child were lovers as well!

I counted another dozen letters, the postmarks dating back almost two years. It was getting late, so I decided to put them back, knowing that I didn’t have time to go through them all before my brothers got home.

I had a thousand impression racing through my mind when I stood up and walked back to my computer. I sat down, looking at the sexy pictures, but not really seeing them. Images of my mother kept popping up. They weren’t sexual thoughts; just things she said to me over the years that made more sense now. Most of them were comments she made about Dad and heir relationship.

I realized my mother hadn’t loved him in a very long time, but she stayed with him anyway. Suddenly I felt like an obstacle — like my brothers and I had, without even knowing it, stood between my mother and her happiness.

My thoughts were interrupted by the familiar ring of the telephone, signaling my mother’s nightly call. I stood up and hastened to the kitchen to grab the phone.

As I heard Mom’s voice, I became increasingly aware of my nudity. It wasn’t uncommon for me to walk around the house naked when no one was home, knowing the deadbolts would keep my brothers out. Still, as I stood there completely nude, I felt like she knew, like she could see me. Maybe it was because I felt guilty for snooping, exposing her secrets,  or perhaps it was because I felt so close to her. Whatever it was, I felt much more exposed than I ever had before.

“Is everything okay? Are the boys giving you any trouble?” she asked.

“No, they haven’t been home all day. To be honest, I didn’t even realize it was so late until you called. I haven’t even started dinner yet,” I said. “How’s the conference going? Having a lot of fun?”

“Oh, it’s long and boring, like going to school with a bunch of people you don’t know. I’d much rather be home with you.”

For once, I detected deceit in her voice, and suddenly it hit me. I knew exactly where she was, and it wasn’t at any conference. Mom was with Allison and her daughter… her secret lovers. At that moment, she could have been just as naked as I was. Who knows? Maybe she was in bed with them at that very moment!

My head swam. I wanted to tell her it was all right, that she didn’t have to lie to me. I wanted to tell her that I understood. I just didn’t know how.

So instead, I said, “I love you, Mom. And if you want to stay an extra day or two, we’ll be fine.”

“Don’t be silly. Why on earth would I want to stay in a hotel any longer than I have to?” she asked, the confusion in her voice mixed with apprehension.

“Because you deserve a vacation. You should take some time away to just relax and enjoy yourself,” I answered.

“I… I might just take you up on that,” she replied.

Smiling, I told her, “Please do,” and told her goodbye. I picked up the phone and ordered a pizza before heading back to my room to get dressed and clean up.

*****

Usually, I would return to my porn as soon as my brothers were in bed — that night I didn’t. Instead, I lay in bed thinking about Mom.

I felt sorry for her. Before, I couldn’t stop thinking about my own sexuality, now I couldn’t stop thinking of hers. I realized that all the issues that had been plaguing me for the past several months had tormented my mother for years, perhaps decades. Then I started thinking about where she was, what she was doing. Finally, she was getting a chance to enjoy herself, to explore, to be herself without judgment. I was happy for her, and didn’t want it to end just because she had to come back home. I fell asleep contemplating how I would let Mom know about what I’d learned about her.

I woke up to the front door slamming. Looking out the window I saw my brothers with their friends, heading out on their bikes, towels wrapped around their necks. I knew then that they were going to the community pool at the back of our neighborhood and would be gone all day. Ordinarily, a refreshing swim would sound good, but I was already wet, ha ha.

I rolled out of bed and made sure all of the doors were secure. My next stop was the laundry hamper, gathering up the clothes before taking them out to the laundry room. If I was going to keep the doors locked all day under the premise of cleaning the house, I had to at least do some housework. I threw some detergent and bleach in the washer and set the cycle to hot, then started loading the dirty towels.

I then went through the dirty clothes, separating them, throwing the whites into the washer. My heart nearly stopped when I saw a pair of my mother’s panties lying in the basket. I picked them up, holding them in my fingers, marveling at how soft they were. “Snap out of it — she’s your mother!” I scolded myself aloud before throwing them in the washer.

I then went to clean up the kitchen which, thanks to the pizza we’d eaten the night before, didn’t take long to put into order. After picking up trash around the house, I ran the vacuum cleaner over the carpeted parts of the house, finishing up in Mom’s bedroom. I unplugged the vacuum, wrapping up the cord with my eyes fixed on her closet. For once, I didn’t even think about my computer or my dirty magazines.

As soon as I put the vacuum away, I peeled my t-shirt up and over my head. I slid my panties off too, tossing them both in my room before heading to Mom’s closet. With my juices trailing down my inner thighs, I knelt to the floor, heading straight for those two boxes. Popping the locks, I pulled everything out, and then lay down on her bed, surrounded by her magazines, her letters, and her toys.

As I lay there, smelling her pillow, her scent still on it, I reminisced about her holding me a few short days before, comforting me after my confession. I missed her so much, but right than, I was glad she wasn’t home.

I organized the letters by their dates; then pulled out the first letter. It was written just shy of two years earlier.

It started out innocently enough. From what I deduced, my mother had met Allison at a nurse’s convention in Dallas. Apparently, they hadn’t gotten pretty drunk and wound up sleeping together. I could sense the pain in her letter. She confessed that she had thought about women her entire life, but my mother was the first, and she couldn’t stop thinking about her. Tiny water spots decorated the pages. I couldn’t tell if they were Allison’s or my mother’s, but I suspected they were a mixture of the two. I was adding a few of my own.

The next couple of letters were more of the same. It was clear that my mother had written her back, and apparently they had talked on the phone a few times. Long distance was extremely expensive back then, or I’m sure they would have been talking daily. While it was obvious she still missed my mother immensely, the tone was much happier — especially on the fifth letter when Allison related how excited she was that my mother had planned another visit, this time just to see her.

The next letter talked a lot about how wonderful it had been to see my mother again, to make love to her. But reading further, Allison mentioned that she thought her daughter might suspect what she’d been up to. I learned then that at the time, her daughter was seventeen and “certainly not stupid.”

She said Cindy had been avoiding her and was very quiet, and she feared her daughter knew she was gay and didn’t approve. Once again, I could feel Allison’s pain, the inner conflict between living for herself and living for her daughter. It was obvious that she loved Cindy and didn’t want to hurt her.

The next letter was harder to understand at first. Apparently something huge had happened, and Allison had called my mom to talk about it. All I could really get out of it was that she was happy and relieved.

It wasn’t until the next letter that I fully understood. I learned Allison had had a very long talk with Cindy and admitted her feelings for my mother. She was happy because her daughter was okay with it, but went on to say that Cindy was a bit jealous of my mother, because it made her feel like a third wheel. Cindy told her she wasn’t used to sharing her mom with someone else, but try to deal with it. Allison said she was going out of her way to spend quality time with her and that their relationship was stronger than ever.

It was a letter written last October that really got my attention. My mother had gone to another “conference” the week before and Allison said she hadn’t been able to sleep since Mom left. Everytime I close my eyes, it takes me back to Saturday night, she wrote. I keep seeing her in the doorway, watching us. I keep remembering how I ran after her to talk to her. I keep hearing her words, telling me how she felt, how she was jealous of you, and why. And then I think about Sunday night, the look in her eyes when I led her to our room, how wonderful it was to share my lover with her, how wonderful it was it share my daughter with you.

I read that part over and over again, so many times that I have it memorized — not just the words, but every stroke of the pen. I was mesmerized by it. By then, I’d read hundreds, if not thousands of explicit stories on the bulletin boards and in magazines, often involving extremely kinky and taboo encounters. But none of them were as erotic to me as those words. I closed my eyes imagining it, using their pictures to facilitate the imagery, augmented by my own wicked imagination.

I admit that the concept of lesbian incest had aroused me for quite some time. Still, I’d never really pictured Mom in any of my fantasies. When I masturbated to a mother-daughter scenario, I would call the woman Mom, though in my head, she was a faceless person.

But as I lay that day on my mother’s bed, burying my fingers deep inside my pussy, rubbing my clit until it was too sore to continue, my fantasy lover had a face. The same woman who gave birth to me, who raised me, who comforted me in this very bed, was now in my head performing the most perverted, erotic acts I ever imagined, and I loved her even more for it.

The final letters were mostly about how close Cindy and Allison had become. She told my mother how much they both missed her and how they couldn’t wait to see her again.

But there was something else, something that shocked me to my core. Allison thanked Mom for sending her my pictures!

She wrote of how beautiful I was, and how it was easy to see why my mother never stopped talking about me. But the line that really stuck out was her telling my mother that she hoped one day that Mom would have the kind of relationship with me that she “really wanted,” and that she would “be as happy sharing you with Becky as you are sharing me with Cindy.”

You know how some things, no matter how obvious they seem, are simply too incredible to believe? I read that line over and over trying to come up with a rational explanation, something, anything that would make more sense than exactly what it said.

It’s not that I didn’t want it to be true. Oh, God no! I never wanted anything to be truer. I was afraid that I was wrong. I read her words several more times, then picked up my mother’s dildo and rammed it deep into my vagina, fucking every ounce of doubt right out of me.

My clean up wasn’t as meticulous this time; I knew I’d be back the next day, going through everything all over again. I simply threw everything back into the boxes and pushed them back in her closet. I didn’t even bother to clean her dildo off. I did take a shower, which was a mistake. Beneath the flowing water, I just couldn’t resist masturbating again, despite my clit being nearly rubbed raw.

It was hard for me to focus for the rest of the night. My brothers complained because I burned dinner. My mother, when she phoned, asked me what was wrong, noting that I seemed distracted. I told her I just had a lot on my mind. She asked me if I had more “girl troubles,” which caught me off guard. I just didn’t know how to answer. My hesitation prompted her to ask me who the girl was. I told her I’d tell her when she got home.

“Fair enough,” she replied, “I’m going to spend tomorrow night here and drive back the next morning. I should be home by noon, and I want to hear all about it, young lady. All the juicy details.”

“Okay, Mom. Love you,” I told her, hanging up the phone. It didn’t give me much time to prepare, but for once, I knew what I wanted to do. What I had to do.

I didn’t sleep at all that night; I was too nervous. Just a few short weeks ago, I was a shy schoolgirl, yet here I was devising the boldest, riskiest plan of my life. I knew the implications if it failed — I could lose my mother’s love forever. Even success had profound implications. Would our relationship ever be the same? Would she still be my mom? All those thoughts kept racing through my mind.

For some reason, my brothers didn’t want to leave the house that day. They were complaining because their friends were going out of town for vacation, and they were too tired to go to the pool. They didn’t want to go to the park to play basketball, or to ride their bikes, or do anything outside. I began to wonder if God, or some higher power, was trying to thwart my plan.

Still, I wasn’t going to be denied. I told them that Mom was coming home the next day, I wanted to get the house looking nice for her, and if they insisted on staying indoors, I’d be happy to find plenty of messy chores for them to tackle. After griping a bit, they finally moped their way out the door, which I quickly locked.

I didn’t strip, not this time. I walked into my room, fired up my computer and my word processing program, and started to write.

Dear Mom,

You recently told me that you were proud of me for being brave enough to go after what I wanted, and for trusting you enough to tell you the truth about my feelings for girls. I hope when you finish this letter, you still feel that way. I wish I felt brave. Instead, I can’t stop trembling in fear, because this is the scariest thing I’ve ever had to say. In fact, I’m too scared to say it, so I’m writing you instead.

I love you, Mom. Throughout my entire life, you have been there every step of the way. You were there to feed me when I was a baby, too young to even tell you I was hungry. You clothed me, changed my diapers, soothed me when I cried. You were there when I took my first step. You were there when I fell, always ready to pick me up and encourage me to try again.

When Dawn died, it would have been easy for you to hide away and abandon your motherly responsibilities, but you didn’t. You lost a daughter, but were more concerned with helping me through the loss of a sister. I remember how you held me close, comforting me night and day, and never anyone there to comfort you.

When Dad left, you filled his role, and much better than he ever did. And I want you to know that there is no one, no one in the world that I love and admire more. I wish I could say that I’ve been as good a daughter as you have been a mother, but instead, I’ll settle for trying to get as close to that goal as I can.

Our evening chats have always been special to me. Over the past few years, you’ve become my best friend. Honestly, you’ve ALWAYS been my best friend. I felt like I could tell you anything, and I realized that more than ever when Jennifer broke my heart. No, that’s not true. I didn’t love her, so she couldn’t break my heart. Really, she just messed with my ego.

I’ve wondered about my sexuality for quite some time, but was afraid to tell you. Instead, I told one of my school guidance counselors, who really didn’t help me at all. Once I finally did come clean with you, I felt ashamed for hiding it. So, as petrified as I am to tell you this, I know if there is anyone who will understand, it’s you.

While you were gone to Dallas, I did a bad thing. While looking for some floppy discs in your closet, I started snooping through your stuff. I found your briefcase and the lockbox you keep your “important papers” in. I sat there trying each and every number until was able to open them both, and then went through the contents.

Mom, I read your letters. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I did. I know about Allison. I know about Cindy. I know what they mean to each other. And I know that’s where you are right now.

Please forgive me. You don’t deserve to have your privacy violated. But now that I know, I feel able to share my innermost thoughts with you.

I love you. I love you more than anyone in the world, and not just because you are my mother, but because you are so much more. You are my comforter, my protector, my confidant. You mean so much to me, and I can’t imagine what my life would be without you. But now, my love goes beyond that.

As I read Allison’s letters, I was touched. I could feel the love in them, as well as the pain. I realized then how similar you and I are. The troubles and inner turmoil that I‘ve felt recently are things you’ve been dealing with for years. I realize now that you gave up so much for Dad, for me, for the boys. And while I helped as well as I could to ease the stress of daily life, I could not help you with what you needed the most.

Well, Mom, I want to fix that. I don’t want you to be afraid to come to me for anything. I want to be here for you for everything. I want to be your daughter, your best friend… and yes, even more. I want to be everything you’ll let me be.

Because Mom, I do love you, and it wasn’t until I read those letters that I learned just how much.

About a year ago, I started having sexual thoughts about other girls. To deal with these desires, I started looking at pornographic magazines. For several months now, I’ve been visiting bulletin boards on the computer and reading lesbian stories. The ones that turn me on the most are about incest. That’s right, Mom, incest.

The idea of sex between women from the same family really turned me on, but I have to admit that while I masturbated to it, I really never thought of you in that way. Instead, the mother in my head was just a nameless, faceless woman who happened to be making love to her own daughter. I guess I was just too ashamed of myself to allow you to take that role. Maybe, deep down inside, I was afraid that if I thought of you that way, it might affect the way I saw you as my mother, and I love you too much to let such a thing happen.

That changed when I opened that briefcase, Mom. I finally saw the side of you that I never saw before, that I refused to let myself see — the sexual side. I didn’t even know that you had sex, or thought about it. But learning about Allison and Cindy didn’t change the way I feel about you as a mother. It didn’t make me love you less; it made me love you more.

Then I read the letters, all of them. And I saw the pictures. That did change the way I thought of you, but in a good way. No longer do I just see you as just a mother, a protector, a confidant. Now I see the whole you, the mother, the friend, and the lover.

Now, when I close my eyes and imagine making love to a beautiful woman, feeling her body next to mine, smelling her hair, touching her smooth soft flesh, now she has a name. Now she has a face. But Mom, when I look up from my lover’s body and see her face, I don’t want it to be a fantasy. I want it to be a reality, and I want her face to be yours.

I don’t just love you, mother dearest. I want you. I need you. I’m aching inside with the hunger I feel for your body, your hands, your mouth — and I’m desperately hoping that you might have feelings like that for me.

Yes, I know the implications of becoming my mother’s lover. I understand that it could affect our everyday life, our relationship. I also know that all that could change anyhow, regardless of what we do. One of the posters in our school gym says, “Finished last is always better than did not finish, which trumps did not start.” I would walk into a burning building for you, so I’m not afraid of a few hurdles. The only thing I’m afraid of is losing you.

Regardless of what you decide, whether you truly want me that way or not, please know that I am happy that you found Allison and Cindy. And your secret is safe with me, even if it wasn’t safe from my prying eyes and lock-picking fingers.

I adore you always.

Your loving daughter,

Rebecca

I looked up at the clock as the printer clicked and sprayed my words onto the virgin paper. Damn, 2 PM already? I couldn’t believe it had taken so long.

I addressed a large manila envelope to my mother’s post office box, using Allison’s name and location for a return address. It was a little deceitful of me, but I wanted to make sure Mom read it, preferably when I wasn’t around. If she thought it was me, she’d wonder how I learned about her PO box, and might confront me without ever opening it.

Okay, that was the easy part. Don’t chicken out now. If you’re going to stick your toe in the water, you might as well just jump in, I told myself, trying to muster up the courage to take the next step.

On wobbly legs, I walked back into my mother’s bathroom, took off my clothes and hopped in her shower, hoping the water would relax me.

It certainly changed my mood, but I wouldn’t exactly say I was relaxed. I’d underestimated the impact that taking a shower in my mother’s bathroom would have on me, of being naked in her room, of picking up her soap, of using her washcloth on my most intimate parts.

It wasn’t long before the hand roaming over my flesh was hers, touching me. Her fingers caressed my breasts, her fingertips pinched my nipples. I could feel her hand slipping down my tummy and down between my legs. I could feel my clit swell for her.

My orgasm coursed through me like a tidal wave, the cascading water pushing me to the floor of the tub, unable to stand until the hot water tank was emptied and it angrily dumped cold water on me to sober me up.

Shivering violently, I shut the water off and dried myself. I wrapped a towel around my body, perhaps to keep me from losing focus, and sat down at my mom’s vanity. I spent the next half hour on my hair, blow drying, backcombing, scrunching, until finally it was perfect. Smiling and finally relaxed, I put my makeup on and did my nails. I rummaged through my mother’s closet for something sexy to wear, added my favorite earrings, and for once, I felt beautiful. No one was going to mistake me for Susanna Hoffs, but I certainly felt sexy.

Reaching up onto the top shelf of her closet, I retrieved my mother’s Polaroid camera and every box of film she had. After loading the camera, I took it over to her dresser and snapped off a few pictures of myself in the mirror, then remembered that it had a self-timer. We had only used it a couple of times, usually when Dad was home, so we could get a family photo. It only took a few seconds to figure out how to use it. I set it down on her dresser and smiled into the camera for what seemed an eternity before it took my picture.

After a few shots with me standing up, I brought the camera over to the bed and took a couple of pictures with me in my blouse and skirt, lying on the bed in the most seductive poses I could muster. I sat cross-legged, letting my skirt ride up my thighs, and then pulled my skirt up so my panties were clearly visible. In another, I laid on my stomach, my skirt raised, exposing my panty-covered bottom. In that same pose, I took another picture from the front, angling the camera down my unbuttoned top.

By that time, I could hardly breathe. Each time I waited for the camera to go off, I held my breath, which in my excited state, left me panting when the damned thing finally clicked. My nervousness didn’t get any easier when I reached behind my back to unclasp my bra and pulled it out of the sleeves of my blouse, nor when I slid my panties off. At that time, I still had my blouse and skirt on, a pair of black stiletto heels, and my earrings. I looked completely dressed, but felt completely exposed as I took the same poses again.

I unbuttoned my blouse, save the bottom button, and pulled it down over my shoulders, giving my best Debbie Harry expression as the camera flashed the next picture. As my excitement grew, I got bolder and bolder, exposing more and more. Soon I was completely naked, taking pictures of myself lying on the bed touching myself, of me bending over spreading my ass cheeks, even of my legs spread wide pushing my mother’s vibrator deep inside my soaking cunt, and finally of my face in the throes of orgasm.

They weren’t quite magazine quality, but I hoped my mother would treasure them. To be perfectly frank, looking at them turned me on, and part of me wanted to keep a few of them for myself. I arranged them in order, putting the tame ones on top, progressively getting wilder toward the bottom. I then secured them together with a rubber band, put them in the envelope along with her letter, then got dressed.

I got to the post office just in time. That’s probably a good thing, since my race to get there before they closed kept me from second-guessing the wisdom of actually mailing the thing to her. As I walked out the door, the cashier closed and locked the door behind me — also a good thing, as it kept me from racing back inside to snatch the letter away before it got posted.

I sat there in the driver’s seat, wondering what I had just done, wondering if I’d just destroyed my relationship with the one person who loved me unconditionally. I mean, parents always say they love you unconditionally. I’ve even heard of a mother saying that she still loved her son and forgave him, even after he’d tried to kill her. But this was different. This could be the one thing that destroyed even a mother’s love.

Stop it, you’re being silly, I told myself. I knew my mother loved me, and after reading Allison’s letters, I was pretty sure she wanted me, too. Still, there was doubt. Fantasizing about something is one thing; actually doing it is altogether a different story. Even if she did feel the same way, could Mom allow herself to give in to temptation? Would having to keep it a secret be too hard for her, too stressful? Would making love to me make her feel creepy or guilty?

Well, what was done was done, and there was no backing out.

As I started to pull out of the parking space, I looked up in the rear-view mirror. My face was no longer radiant. Tears had already streaked my mascara, making me look more like Alice Cooper than a Bangle. I pulled a tissue from my purse and cleaned up my face, then headed home. It’s a wonder I even got there. I was so distracted I didn’t even remember stopping in at KFC for dinner. All the while I was shaking inside, thinking about the enormity of what I’d just done.

Onward to Part TwoDear Mom: I Want You, Part 2!

1

Error happened.

Author Unknown

Note from JetBoy: Thought for sure that I knew who the author of this was… but when I scanned through her list of stories, I couldn’t locate it. (I did find a couple others of hers that you will see here one day, though.) Anyhow, I do hope you enjoy it.

1

Error happened.

by Randi Patterson

Kris bicycled over to Caryn’s house several days before Christmas and presented her friend with the gift she’d chosen. Caryn had a gift waiting for Kris as well. The girls talked about their plans for the Christmas vacation, which centered mainly on the book reports they both had to write. Kris was doing yet another book report on a novel by Robert Heinlein, and was still trying to convince Caryn to read him. Caryn, who’d summed up her one experience with Heinlein in three words, was still refusing to read anymore “pseudo-porn elitist nonsense,” and was doing her report on the new David Brin Uplift trilogy, of which she’d read the first two novels.

“It has adventure, and a plot I really dig,” she told Kris as they sat together in Caryn’s bedroom on her bed.

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to read that. Does it have any good sex in it?” Kris asked with a comical leer at Caryn.

“Yeah, it has sex, but not with humans. Or, at least, not much with humans.”

“Mmm, sounds kinda kinky. And you consider Heinlein pornographic? Hmm, you must have some interesting ideas on sexuality.” Kris paused, wondering if Caryn would shy away from the subject of sex once again, like she usually did when it came up. And, as per normal, Caryn didn’t respond to Kris’ conversational gambit.

Kris sighed, thinking, I hope I don’t blow it with her. If Caryn rejects me, what will I do? Live with it, I guess. She changed the subject. The two teens chatted on, until Kris had to go home for dinner.

The days until Christmas passed slowly for Kris. Her older brothers each came to Tucson for the holidays, which helped make the waiting more fun. She adored both her brothers, and treasured every moment she got to spend with them. Her brother Sean, an Air Force pilot, could stay for only a few days. He was enroute to a new duty station, and managed to wangle a few travel days to stop by and say hello to his parents and sister. Her other brother, Jason, was well on his way to making a modest fortune with the ISP that he founded in San Francisco. He flew into town for the holidays in his new corporate turbo-prop, which Sean immediately demanded a ride in. They took Kris along, and at her request, her friend Terry.

While the two brothers flew the plane, Terry and Kris cuddled in the cabin, hands and fingers dancing across each other’s bodies. By the time they landed, Terry and Kris were both flushed and giggling. They politely refused Jason’s invitation to dinner, claiming other plans.

The woman and the girl drove from the airport straight back to Terry’s house. Once in the house, Kris made a detour into the kitchen to call her parents and tell them she was going to have dinner with Terry. Terry disappeared upstairs.

Kris found Terry in her bedroom, already nearly undressed. Kris quickly slipped out of her skirt, blouse and bra. She knew Terry liked to remove her panties herself, so she left them on and climbed into the bed with her grownup lover. Almost instinctively, they arranged themselves in a 69.

Kris felt Terry pull her panties down around her thighs, and then felt Terry’s tongue eagerly probing her vagina. Kris buried her own face against Terry’s mons, using her fingers to part Terry’s labia. She quickly located Terry’s clitoris, and eagerly began to flick it with the tip of her tongue. Almost simultaneously, she felt her own clitoris encircled by Terry’s tongue.

Together, the girl and the woman climaxed — two distinct entities, but linked to each other via the pleasure they shared. Now, they shifted out of position and arranged themselves face to face, Kris lying on top of Terry. Terry slid her hands down Kris’ body, tracing her spine with her fingertips, pausing to caress the round globes of her pert bottom. Gently, Terry penetrated Kris from the rear, her fingers delving softly into the girl’s vagina.

Kris began to thrust her pelvis against Terry, as Terry probed even deeper into Kris with her fingers. Kris captured one of Terry’s nipples in her mouth, and began to suckle. Reaching down between their bodies, Kris inserted two fingers into Terry’s vagina. The girl and the woman quickly came again.

Next, Terry slipped her little finger into Kris’ vagina, getting it moist. Then she had Kris get on her hands and knees. Slowly, Terry brought her little finger against Kris’ anus, and applied pressure until the sphincter relaxed. Kris gasped as she felt Terry’s finger enter her rectum. With her other hand, Terry again penetrated Kris from behind, quickly finding her clitoris. As she gently pinched her clitoris, she forced her little finger deeper into the girl’s rectum. Kris came quickly, in one long, convulsive, spasm.

Terry slid her fingers out of the girl and then wrapped her arms around her and hugged her close. Terry lay down on her side, and Kris spooned against her. Terry ran her hands lightly across Kris’ small breasts, caressing them with her palms, tugging on the rigidly erect nipples. Terry felt Kris sigh and snuggle even closer. She slipped one hand down to the girl’s tummy, probing her navel with her forefinger. She continued downward until the tips of her fingers were just touching Kris’ vaginal cleft. Lightly, she ran her fingers along the slit, slowly applying pressure until Kris’ labia parted.

Gently, Terry penetrated Kris’s vagina, first with one, then two fingers. They lay together like this for a long time. Every few minutes, Terry would lightly caress the girl’s clitoris, bringing Kris to a gentle climax. Eventually, they fell asleep, Terry cupping Kris’ mons in her palm, two fingers still buried deeply inside the girl’s vagina.

Much later, as they showered together, Terry asked Kris about Caryn. “I’m going to be out of town from the 27th until maybe after New Year’s. Are you ready for step two of the plan?” Terry was kneeling in front of a standing Kris, soaping the girl’s thighs and calves.

Kris nodded, lifting her leg and resting it on Terry’s shoulder as Terry began to soap the inside of her thighs. “I think I’m ready.”

“Well, we better get out of here and get dressed, or we’ll start making love again and you’ll never make it home.”

Kris laughed as they both stepped from the shower. Terry threw on a robe, and Kris slipped into her clothes. Kris said goodbye and made her exit.

*****

The day after Christmas, Kris got the call she was expecting from Caryn.

“Kris? Oh my God. Thank you for the babydoll! It’s too much! But I don’t dare wear it around here. My parents would probably disown me. It’s a good thing I didn’t open it in front of everybody else!”

“Oh, how did you manage that?”

“We always open one present on Christmas Eve. I just happened to choose yours. I took it into my bedroom to open it. Gosh, Kris, it is so sexy. But I don’t know how I’m even going to try it on. I’d be mortified if my folks or one of my brothers saw me in it.”

“Yeah? Well, I’m glad you like it. Look, if you want to wear it, I might have a plan. I’m house sitting for Terry starting tomorrow night. Why don’t you come over, and we’ll rent some movies or something, and you can model it for me. I kinda actually want to see you in it. Would that work for you?”

“Oh yes! Wonderful! What time?”

“Terry is leaving for the airport at 6:30. So anytime after that. How’s seven sound?”

“Great. I can hardly wait. Thanks again. See ya’!”

Hmm, thought Kris. I don’t think she suspects any ulterior motive. Let’s see what happens.

Promptly at seven the next day, Kris heard Terry’s doorbell ring. Well, here we go, she thought.

The evening progressed rapidly. They watched TV, called several friends, and played computer games on Terry’s PC. Kris seemed more acutely aware of Caryn than usual. Each gesture she made, each toss of her head, or shrug of her shoulders seemed to arouse Kris. As they set side by side in front of the PC, Kris could barely concentrate on the game when it was her turn at the keyboard. Caryn’s close proximity was all she could think about.

When she saw Caryn yawn, she decided it was time. Reaching across Caryn, she grabbed the mouse and closed the window on the game. “Enough. Let’s go light a fire, and call it an evening.”

Caryn yawned again. “Hmm. Okay. I’m a little sleepy, but I’m not quite ready for bed yet. But I think I will go put on my new babydoll. Back in a minute.”

In the living room, Kris knelt in front of the fireplace, and leaned down to blow into the embers. Soon, the fire blazed up, crackling cheerfully. Kris began to make her own preparations for bed. As she undressed, she reached into her overnighter, she pulled out her “pajamas” — a t-shirt cropped one centimeter beneath her breasts and a very brief pair of panties. She slipped the t-shirt on and stepped into the panties, and then went into the kitchen and started steaming milk for some hot cocoa.

Caryn seemed to be taking her time changing. Kris finished making the cocoa and brought both mugs out into the living room, along with a bag of marshmallows. She curled up in front of the fireplace, and waited for Caryn.

While Kris went downstairs, Caryn walked to the master bedroom and undressed. She put on the babydoll, and then looked at herself in the full-length mirror on the wall. She liked what she saw. The panties were a thin triangular wedge of pink that didn’t quite conceal the gentle swells of her pudenda. Caryn took a deep breath, and the two sides of her top parted slightly, the soft curves of the lower halves of her breasts revealed in the gap, the soft satin of the top gliding against her nipples.

Reaching up, she caressed her breasts through the thin material, delighted at the sensation. Almost without thinking, she slid one hand down towards her panties. Her fingers had slipped under the waistband and were gently rubbing against her labia before Caryn realized she was masturbating. Shocked, she quickly withdrew her hand. Summoning her composure, she walked briskly towards the door.

But she hesitated with her hand on the door. She was suddenly acutely aware of how much of her body was revealed by the babydoll. The top only veiled her breasts, and the panties were briefer than any she’d ever worn before. What am I afraid of? she wondered. Kris has seen me naked hundreds of time. Go on out there.

She found Kris in the living room. She struck a risque pose by the mantelpiece, on leg forward and slightly bent, with one hand on her hip, the other holding her red hair in a pile on the top of her head. “Well? Think I could be a centerfold in Playboy?”

Kris looked up and gasped. As casually as she could, she took a sip from her mug of cocoa and tried to collect her thoughts. Incredible. Kris felt her nipples crinkle against her crop-top.

“Oh, wow. Definite centerfold material. All you need is a staple in your navel, and you would be set. Do you feel as sexy as you look?”

Caryn blushed. She was very aroused, and marveled at the feeling. The only time she’d ever like this was late at night in her bedroom, when she masturbated. With a shock, she realized that she wanted to go back upstairs and finish what she’d started. Jeez, get a grip, girl. She nodded quickly, then dropped her pose and walked over to her friend.

Turning to Caryn, Kris said, “Throw some cushions down here. And get the lights.” Caryn pulled several cushions from the sofa and love seat, and dumped them in a heap next to Kris. Kris began to spread them around in front of the fireplace, as Caryn went around the room, extinguishing the lights.

Kris and Caryn sat side by side in front of the fire. They talked and laughed, two close friends celebrating their friendship. Their conversation moved from topic to topic. The topics were always the same, school, music, movies, boys, books, parents, siblings, religion — life in general. But their substance always changed. The arousal she’d felt when she first put on the babydoll had plateaued, and Caryn was able to concentrate on their talk. Occasionally, though, she’d open her mind to her arousal, and then she’d lose the thread.

Once, she even drifted so far that she discovered she was slowly stroking her mons through the thin satin of her panties. Surprised, she jerked her hand way from her lap, and then realized that in the flickering firelight, it was doubtful Kris had noticed. She sat up suddenly, realizing that Kris had just asked her about the gift.

Caryn sat up, cross-legged on the cushions. She took a sip of her cocoa and said, “Thank you for the nightie, Kris. I love it.”

Kris took a sip of her cocoa and said, “Well, I’m glad. You look sexy, Caryn. Remember that black string bikini you gave me this summer? Now I know how Terry felt when she first saw me in it. It really turned her on.”

“Hmmm. As I remember, you did look truly sexy. Uh, Kris, now that you’ve brought it up, I’ve been meaning to ask you about that…wasn’t it kind of weird having another woman tell you that you look sexy?”

“No. I just told you that you look sexy. Do you feel weird now?”

Caryn shook her head. “Not weird, but I do feel turned on.” A pause. “I never told this to any one before, but I can tell you. I was so turned on when I saw myself in the mirror upstairs, I almost started to masturbate.” Liar. You WERE masturbating.

“Hmm. I think I know what you mean. My brothers almost made me wear something different when I modeled that bikini for them. I know it definitely turned them on. And I know it turned Terry on.”

Caryn remembered having lunch with Terry and Kris at Terry’s house, that day that Kris had worn the bikini. Kris had been the center of attention all morning at the pool, and Caryn had basked in the reflected glow. Caryn enjoyed attention, especially from the boys. “But you seemed more interested in staying with Terry after lunch.”

Kris laughed. “And you were anxious to get back to the pool and flirt some more with the boys.”

“Well, yeah, that’s right. I was. So what happened after I left?”

“I told her I was confused about the way I felt after I kissed you that day. Do you remember?”

Caryn remembered. Kris had come to her, asking to borrow a black string bikini. Caryn had been rather surprised at this request, since Kris had steadfastly refused to play any of the flirtation games Caryn and her girlfriends indulged in at the community pool. Caryn had been more surprised at how sexy her best friend looked in it. Much to her consternation, Caryn realized that her surprise was tinged with jealousy and envy. Kris was her very best friend, and she didn’t want anything to jeopardize their relationship.

But then Kris had done something extraordinary. Kris had kissed her…softly and gently on the lips, and then thanked her for making her aware of her own femaleness. The girls had kissed each other before, hello and good-bye kisses, and even thank-you kisses, so why did this one feel different? And how come I didn’t feel jealous anymore? And why did I kiss her, a few minutes later?

Nodding her head, Caryn said, “I remember. And I remember how jealous I was at first, and how after you kissed me, I didn’t feel jealous at all. But you told Terry that you were confused…?”

Kris continued. “Yeah. I was confused. So I told Terry. Actually, I wanted to be kissed again, so I asked Terry to kiss me.”

She paused, trying to gauge Caryn’s reaction. Kris searched her friend’s face intently, but Caryn didn’t respond outwardly, saying only, “Go on. What happened?”

“She kissed me. And I kissed her.”

“Like with a boy?”

“I wouldn’t know… that’s more your territory. But I enjoyed it. And so did she.”

Now Caryn was really curious. What did Terry have that any of a dozen boys who would die to kiss Kris didn’t? “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“If you were confused, why didn’t you ask me about it?”

Kris nodded. “Because I didn’t realize at the time that I could. Because I thought you’d think I was perverted or something.”

“I didn’t think you were perverted. I was just glad I didn’t feel jealous anymore. And if you will remember, I kissed you back, and not like a friend either. But it felt right. Were you really that confused by it?

“Well yeah. But Terry helped me sort out my feelings.”

“How?”

“By kissing me and telling me it was okay to demonstrate my affection like that.”

“Hmmm.” Suddenly, Caryn realized that Kris was trying to tell her something. She gazed at Kris for a few seconds, and then said, “You two did more than just kiss, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

Caryn thought about that. Ever since that day, Caryn had wondered about all the time Kris was spending with Terry. “Tell me about it… everything, okay?” Caryn could feel herself becoming aroused. Startled, she realized that whatever Kris and Terry had done, the idea was turning her on.

Kris described what happened that day last summer in a matter-of-fact way. She skipped nothing, only blushing at the more intimate revelations. When she reached the part where she’d left Terry that first time, needing to think about what was happening, she stopped and looked inquiringly at her friend.

Caryn was fascinated. She’d found herself growing increasingly aroused as Kris related her story. Seeing Kris looking at her, she said, “Hmm. I think I would have done the same thing. But after that day, you started spending a lot of time with her. You obviously decided that it was something you wanted. What happened next?”

Kris picked up her story from that Sunday morning, when she’d went to Terry’s to finish what she and Terry had started. Caryn was hanging on every word. Kris described in intimate detail exactly how Terry had led her upstairs to the bedroom, and then undressed her, and then made love to her. She paused in her story, remembering the sensations.

Unconsciously, she trailed one hand down her body as she was speaking. It slipped across her breasts, coming to rest as it reached her panties, the tips of her fingers just disappearing under the waistband. Caryn took this in, wondering if Kris was going masturbate right in front of her. But the fingers remained motionless, and Caryn refocused on Kris’ face.

“The way she loved me, Caryn… so gentle. Her hands were touching me all over, and her mouth was on my breast. She took my nipple between her lips and sucked.” Unconsciously, Kris began to caress her mons, her fingers sliding deeper into her panties in a circular motion. Suddenly realizing what she was doing, Kris stopped. She blushed all the way to her breasts.

But Caryn’s eyes were closed. Caryn had slipped a hand inside the babydoll top, and Kris could see that she was lightly pinching her nipples.

“Did my story really turn you on?”

It was Caryn’s turn to blush. Her eyes flew open, and she withdrew her hand quickly from under her top. Kris kept her fingers in her panties, lightly stroking her labia.

“Yes, I’m really turned on right now, as you probably noticed.” Embarrassed, but beginning to recover. Kris was her best friend. No secrets.

“You should be… I got turned on telling you about it. What is wrong with being turned on?”

“Kris! I don’t know. Everybody from the minister to the principle to my parents think that being turned on is only supposed to happen when you want to make a baby.”

“Well, can I tell you something?”

“Of course…?”

“They’re missing out on one of the best parts of being human.”

Caryn nodded. Kris was right. “Uh, you know, I’m so turned on, would you think me too weird if I wanted to go back upstairs and masturbate?” A small smile. “Do you think Terry would mind if I used her bed?”

“No. I don’t think it is weird at all. I feel like joining you. And why should Terry mind? We certainly used it.”

Startled, Caryn thought, Oh yeah. What was I thinking?

Kris realized that her moment had come. She moved next to Caryn. Caryn was sitting on a wide cushion Kris had taken from the sofa, bare feet towards the fire, leaning back against some more cushions propped up against the recliner behind her. Kris sat down facing Caryn, and then leaned to the side, legs extending towards the fire, her left shoulder supported by the same cushion that supported Caryn’s head.

Softly, Kris said, “What’s wrong with right here?” She took Caryn’s hand and guided it towards the front of her friend’s panties. With a gentle pressure, she flattened Caryn’s palm out over her panty-clad mons. Softly, she said, “I’d like to do it right now.”

Kris tugged the crotch of Caryn’s panties to the side, and then slid her fingers along Caryn’s exposed labia. She paused, and then suddenly slipped the panties back into place.

Caryn was surprised at how calm she felt. Nobody had ever touched her like this before. Some boys had tried, and she had adamantly refused their advances. But a girl? Kris? Marveling at the steadiness of her voice, she said calmly, “What did you do that? I mean, then you stopped.”

“I want us to share our bodies, the way we’ve always shared our thoughts. But it’s up to you.”

Caryn looked at Kris, and was simultaneously aware of Kris’ hand, poised lightly near her panties. She came to a decision. She said, “I think I want to, too. But take it slowly, okay?”

“I will, Caryn. As slowly as you want it.” She leaned over and kissed Caryn on the lips. She parted her lips slightly, silently inviting Caryn to reciprocate. She slipped her tongue across Caryn’s lips, laving them with gentle flicks.

Caryn reached up, and Kris thought that her friend was breaking off the kiss. Instead, Caryn’s fingers danced lightly across her lips, which increased her arousal enormously.

After a few moments, Caryn let Kris recapture her mouth, and this time Caryn responded — her tongue joining in, hesitantly at first, then more firmly.

Caryn had kissed lots of boys, open-mouthed and eager. But this was the first time she’d kissed a girl. The first thing she noticed was how much softer Kris’ lips were than a boy’s. In wonder, she broke the kiss long enough to reach up and caress her friend’s mouth with her fingers. She spent several moments marveling at how soft and yielding it was.

When she took her fingers away at last, she parted her lips, eagerly responding to Kris’ tacit invitation. Caryn felt her arousal grow as their tongues met and entwined. Though Kris was clearly in control of the kiss, Kris wasn’t aggressive about it, not like most of the boys in Caryn’s experience. It was more like a dance, with Kris leading and Caryn eagerly following.

Both girls finally had to come up for air. Caryn was the first to speak.

“Kris, that was incredible! Let me catch my breath, and then please, kiss me again?”

Kris smiled at Caryn. “Breath control is a good thing. Ready?”

Caryn nodded and parted her lips in anticipation. This time, Caryn maneuvered herself until she was in the dominant position, with Kris relaxing her head against the cushion. Again, their tongues met. And once again, they stopped only to come up for air.

As their lips separated, Kris said, “Mmm, I like kissing you. I knew I would. Are you ready to do more stuff?”

Caryn hesitated for a fraction of second before nodding her head.

Kris sensed the hesitation. “Or do you want to just kiss? I don’t want to push you…”

Caryn was trying to sort out her feelings. Why are you doing this to me, Kris? And why don’t I want you to stop?

In answer, Caryn took the back of Kris’ neck in her hand and pulled her down, mouth open and eyes closed.

As their lips met and their tongues fenced, Kris slipped her hand beneath Caryn’s top and took one of the girl’s nipples between her thumb and forefinger and rolled it from side to side. Kris could feel Caryn respond immediately, the nipple erecting as she gently tugged and pulled it. When it was firmly erect, Kris switched her attentions to the other nipple. Soon, both of Caryn’s nipples were straining upwards against the soft satin.

Once again, both girls surfaced for air. “Caryn?”

Caryn opened her eyes at the sound of her name. Her breasts were tingling, and she was hyper-aware of her nipples as the soft satin of her top slid across them. She recognized the first stages of an orgasm beginning to drift through her body, and marveled at it. Kissing was one thing. But she’d never let a boy, much less a girl, go this far. Absently mindedly, she caressed her breasts. I never knew it would feel like this. She looked at Kris.

“I want to take your top off, Caryn. Is that okay?”

She crossed her arms behind her head and closed her eyes, whispered, “Okay,” and waited for her friend’s touch.

Kris began to untie the top that closed across Caryn’s breasts. Caryn was breathing slowly and deeply. Kris could feel the rise and fall of her friend’s breasts as she untied the laces. Now, with a lace in each hand, she parted the top, baring Caryn’s breasts completely. Kris dropped the laces and cupped each breast in her hands.

Caryn’s breasts were larger than her own, and almost conical in shape, compared to her own nearly spherical breasts. She began to massage them, squeezing them, gently at first, and then more firmly. Caryn’s breathing became more rapid. Leaning down, she captured a nipple between her lips and began to suckle at it. She smiled at Caryn’s gasp of pleasure.

Caryn felt Kris cup her breasts and tried to relax. Caryn wasn’t very adept at introspection; she had always relied on behavior learned from her parents. But this was unprecedented. All she had to go on was the fact that she trusted Kris implicitly, and that her body was responding to her best friend’s touch with no conscious effort on her part. She suddenly felt Kris’ lips on her nipple, and involuntarily gasped at the sensation. Again, she wondered, Why are you doing this to me, Kris? Why do I want you to keep doing it?

She opened her eyes and watched Kris as she deftly used her lips and tongue to caress her nipples. She had often wondered about what it would feel like to have her breasts suckled, and had even fantasized about it as she masturbated. It felt so good – far more pleasurable than any fantasy. It suddenly hit her…Kris was doing this because she knew it would be pleasurable for her. But why do I still feel scared?

After several more moments of introspection, Caryn realized it was because she was still hung up on the cultural taboos learned from her parents. Those values were in direct conflict with the signals her body was sending her. Okay, so now what? With that, the fear was replaced by an entirely new feeling — curiosity. Caryn felt the nervousness leave her, and bid it a silent farewell.

Now she was able to fully concentrate on the sensations coursing through her body. Pleasure continued to build inside of her, and instead of resisting it, as she realized she’d been doing, Caryn surrendered to it. It exploded through her body, seeming to echo back and forth as it crossed and re-crossed her awareness. As it slowly dimmed and faded, she opened her eyes and gave out a long, luxurious sigh.

Kris smiled. “Oh Caryn, I knew you would enjoy this. And we have just begun.” When Caryn opened her eyes, she added, “Are you okay?”

Caryn nodded her head and said, “More than okay. That felt wonderful.”

In response, Kris kissed her gently on the lips. She slipped her hand, which had been cupping Caryn’s breast, down the girl’s torso to her mons. Stroking Caryn’s labia through the satin of her panties, she whispered, “That’s just the beginning. Ready for more?”

Caryn felt Kris’ fingertips, and her arousal soared. By way of answer, she reached up, drew Kris down and kissed her.

Kris captured Caryn’s mouth with her own. Gently she slipped her hand into her friend’s panties, nestling a finger into Caryn’s vaginal cleft, working it lightly against the inner surfaces of her labia. She knew from experience that Caryn’s vagina would soon relax to admit her finger. Soon enough, Caryn was beginning to lubricate freely, so Kris prepared to penetrate her.

Disengaging from their kiss, Kris trailed her lips along Caryn’s neck and shoulders, and then down to her breasts. She circled the aureole of one breast with her tongue, and then closed her lips around the nipple. She smiled as Caryn gasped at the sensation. Applying a very gentle pressure with two of her fingers, Kris penetrated Caryn’s vagina. She felt the muscles in the vaginal walls instinctively contract around her fingers.

Slowly, she thrust them as deeply as she could into Caryn’s vagina, and then slowly withdrew them, until only the very tips remained inside. She thrust again, more firmly this time, burying her fingers deep in her young friend’s vagina, then withdrawing them again. This time on the return stroke, Kris crooked one finger a little, and dragged it lightly across Caryn’s clit. Kris repeated the cycle, thrusting and withdrawing her fingers in a slowly increasing tempo. Caryn was gasping with each breath now, and as Kris penetrated her over and over again, the gasps coalesced into a low moan.

Caryn felt Kris’ fingers gliding gently across her stomach and into her panties. Kris stroked her labia, and Caryn felt the muscles in her vagina relax. She felt an orgasm begin to spiral across her consciousness, and as Kris penetrated her vagina, she came. Kris was sucking at her nipples now, and Caryn felt the friction of her best friend’s fingers in their passage into and out of her vagina.

Suddenly, Caryn’s pleasure spiked, and she realized Kris had just touched her clitoris. The sensation was exquisite. She gasped as Kris touched it again. And again. Caryn marveled at the sensation flowing up from her vagina. She knew she was gasping and moaning like something from the soundtrack of a cheap porno flick, but she didn’t care – her attention was focused on Kris and the fingers plunging in and out of her vagina.

When she came, it was a rocket going off in her mind. She felt Kris withdraw her fingers, then cup her cheek with a hand. She could smell her own musky odor on Kris’ fingers. She glanced up at her friend, who was smiling down at her.

“Oh, Kris… Oh, that was wonderful… I had no idea.”

“Well, I knew, and now you know too. Are you ready for something more?”

Caryn raised her eyebrows. What more could there possibly be? She nodded.

Kris rolled over on top of Caryn and began to tease the girl’s breasts with her tongue. She licked a path down between Caryn’s breasts and over her flat belly, then kisses Caryn’s tummy, rimming her navel with the tip of her tongue. Caryn began to squirm, and Kris knew it was time to make love to her for real.

Kris reached between their bodies and untied one set of the laces that secured the panty across Caryn’s hips. She folded the nearly translucent material to the side, revealing Caryn’s pudenda to her eager eyes. Gently, Kris extended her tongue and began to lave Caryn’s mons and labia with long, slow strokes. Kris could taste the teen’s wetness, and reveled in the salty-sweet musk of Caryn’s rising passion.

Caryn felt Kris’ fingers at her panties, and realized almost instantly what her friend was going to do. But before she could react, she felt warm breath on her mons, followed by the most exquisite sensation she ever experienced: Kris’ tongue gliding wetly along her labia. She moaned aloud.

Kris heard that moan, and smiled to herself. She rested the palm of her right hand on Caryn’s pubis, just above the vaginal cleft. With her index and middle fingers in a V, she parted her friend’s labia. Kris touched the tip of her tongue to the sensitive flesh of Caryn’s sex, and felt the girl respond instantly — arching her back, thrusting her hips upward against Kris’ mouth.

Kris centered her body more exactly between Caryn’s thighs, giving her friend more room to move as her passion grew. She then began to stroke Caryn’s inner labia with her tongue. Caryn began to lubricate freely, and Kris eagerly lapped it up.

In short order, Caryn arched her back in a paroxysm of pleasure, and Kris knew she had climaxed. While Caryn was experiencing her orgasm, Kris slipped her crop top off and slid forward until her small breasts were nearly in contact with Caryn’s mons. With her free hand, she cupped one of them, lifting it until her nipple was in contact with the hood of Caryn’s clitoris. She teased the nipple back and forth, coaxing the clit out. As it grew erect, so did Kris’ nipple, and she felt the first shimmering wave of an orgasm pass through her body.

The touch of Kris’ nipple against her clit started another wave of pleasure coursing through Caryn’s frame. She was somewhat more prepared this time, and was determined to ride the wave of good feelings as long as she could before being inundated. She opened her eyes and glanced down at Kris, lying between her legs. Kris, chin resting on Caryn’s tummy, was gazing steadily back at her.

For a moment, Caryn lost herself in that gaze. She felt a sensation of love commingled with desire emanating from her friend that was so potent, she almost felt that she was somehow in Kris’ mind, watching herself get pleasured. It was disorienting, but not unpleasantly so.

Her point of view switched back to her own eyes, and she watched as Kris lowered her face and slipped backwards between her legs until all Caryn could see was the top of the girl’s head. Then she felt her friend’s lips fasten around her clitoris, and Caryn surrendered to the wave of ecstasy that suddenly overwhelmed her senses.

Kris sucked gently at Caryn’s clitoris, teasing it with the tip of her tongue. Caryn was writhing beneath her. Wanting to drive her friend even wilder, Kris penetrated Caryn with her index finger, probing as deeply as she could into the teen’s canal. She rubbed her finger against the ridged walls, feeling the vagina respond as Caryn approached another orgasm.

When Kris felt the muscles clamp down on her finger, she sucked Caryn’s clitoris as far into her mouth as she could, then nibbled it, lightly scraping her teeth against the sensitive tissue. She heard Caryn scream, and looked up to see the girl thrashing her head from side to side. Kris kept Caryn’s clitoris clamped between her lips, teasing it with quick flicks of her tongue. She held her friend suspended in orgasmic bliss for a long time, finally releasing Caryn’s clitoris when she felt the girl’s vaginal muscles relax slightly from the grip it had on her finger.

She crawled up to lie next to Caryn, wrapping her arm around the teen’s shoulders, gently cradling her head against her breasts as she waited for the dazed, panting girl to come down from her orgasm.

After awhile, Caryn’s eyes fluttered open. In all of her fourteen years, she’d never felt anything as intensely pleasurable as what Kris had just done to her. Her body was tingling all over, concentrated at her breasts and vagina.

She turned towards Kris and threw both arms around her best friend. Hugging her close, she whispered, “Oh Kris. Thank you. What an incredible feeling.” I should find some way to thank Terry, too, she told herself. Maybe later.

Aloud, Caryn said, “Actually, I’m going to really thank you right now.”

Reaching down, she began to caress Kris’ mons with her palm. Kris spread her thighs, placed a hand on the back of Caryn’s head, drew her close and kissed her friend deeply, her tongue probing Caryn’s mouth. Breaking the kiss, she moaned as she felt Caryn tentatively, then with serious intent, penetrate her vagina with two fingers.

Kris thrust her pelvis in counterpoint to Caryn’s rhythmic penetration, feeling pleasure building up deep inside. Kris rode that wave into a shuddering climax, delighting in the new erotic dimension that had been added to her relationship with Caryn.

When her orgasm had run its course, she opened her eyes and gazed intently at Caryn.

“Yes, I think so too,” she said and laughed.

Caryn raised her eyebrows quizzically. “Think what?”

“I think you should find some way to thank Terry. She’ll be back next week. I’d say that showing up for dinner wearing that babydoll will let her know in no uncertain terms how you want to thank her.”

“But how did you know? And do you mean thank her… like this?”

“Oh, yes, Caryn. And I want to watch. And help you thank her.”

Kris captured one of Caryn’s nipples between her lips, and as the teen’s body began to respond, Caryn realized that making love to Terry was exactly what she wanted to do… especially with the help of her brand new lover. She looked down at Kris suckling gently at her breast and sighed blissfully.

The End

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