Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

Marcy sat in the chair, hunched forward with her head down staring at the tiled floor. Her forearms rested on her knees as she slowly wrung her hands together.

She couldn’t remember the number of times she’d sat here this way. Waiting, hoping, and even praying for some good news. But it never seemed to come.

“I’m sorry, Marcy,” was all the woman had said. It was all she had to say.

Marcy sighed. ‘I’m sorry’, she thought to herself. After three years of trying it ends with ‘I’m sorry’.

Her husband Jack, who was sitting beside her, reached over and softly placed a hand on her arm.

“We’ll find another way, honey.” Trying to sound empathetic, but knowing full well there wasn’t anything else they could do. Well, at least nothing they could really afford to do.

Marcy raised her head, shaking it slowly from side to side. She looked across the oak desk at the woman sitting behind it, then at her husband, then back at the woman. Marcy could see in the woman’s eyes that she truly felt bad for her.

“Thank you, Doctor Sheppard,” she said, trying to put on a brave face.

“No, Jack!” she started, turning toward her husband. “There is no other way. I can’t do this anymore. I’m drained! Our savings are all but gone!”

Marcy leaned forward again and buried her face in her hands. She would have cried, she wanted to, but the tears wouldn’t come anymore.

After a few moments of silence, Marcy sat up. “I’m just not meant to have children… We,” she paused, “are not meant to have children.”

She stood. Taking a second to regain her composure, Marcy fussed with her hair before offering an outstretched hand to her doctor.

“Thank you again for all your efforts,” she said with sincerity.

Doctor Jennal Sheppard, a handsome woman in her late fifties, had been Marcy’s family doctor since the day she was born, and had been her parents’ doctor for a good ten years before that. She felt more like a family friend than just her doctor.

Jennal got up from her seat and made her way around the desk. Ignoring Marcy’s gesture, she took the young woman into her arms and held her close.

“I’m truly sorry, sweetie,” Jennal whispered, hoping to give some level of comfort.

“Thanks,” Marcy said as the embrace ended. She smiled again, then turned and left the office. Jack thanked the doctor and followed his wife out.

The car ride home was quiet. Marcy didn’t feel much like talking. She leaned against the side window, absently watching life on the city streets go by.

It isn’t fair, she thought to herself.

Marcy had known since she was a little girl that she wanted a child, a daughter in particular. She wanted a daughter she could love the way her own mother had loved her. And more recently she wanted a daughter she could teach about the joys of being with another woman. Just as her mother had taught her. And just maybe, a daughter, who, if she was willing, would become her lover. The way her mother had been for Marcy shortly before she had been taken away.

She looked at Jack and felt a twinge of guilt. Not because she couldn’t give him a child, but because she had been deceiving him for the last four years. Marcy liked Jack very much. He was a kind and caring man, one who would give you the shirt off his back if you asked for it. Marcy believed Jack would have been a great father. If only she loved him.

She first met Jack through her best friend Zoey when she was around six years old. Zoey’s mom and Jack’s mom were best friends, and had been for years. Jack, being four years older than the girls, really didn’t pay much attention to them. Not until they were in their late teens anyway.

By that time Marcy and Zoey had been lovers for many years, and Marcy’s sexual relationship with her mother was just starting to blossom. Zoey had moved away the summer before her last year of high school when her mother landed a really good job in another town. Sadly, it was only a short time after that that Marcy’s mother had passed.

Marcy missed being with girls, especially younger girls. She hadn’t been with one since she was twelve, a cute eight-year-old named Crystal that she and Zoey had babysat at different times. Marcy had all but forgotten the pleasures she and Zoey had shared with that little girl…

 

She’d been reminded of Crystal one afternoon recently when she was at the mall. Marcy had been shopping for new clothes and had stopped at the food court for a quick bite. As she sat in a booth eating her burger, she couldn’t help notice a group of three women and three young girls at a table not far from her. Marcy was transfixed by one girl who appeared to be the youngest among them. This child, maybe ten or eleven years old, wore a pair of very tight shorts that only served to display her sexy camel toe. Marcy studied the girl discreetly, and noticed the longer she watched the more she was getting turned on. She wanted to turn away from the sight but couldn’t bring herself to do it.

Looking around to make sure no one was watching, Marcy placed a hand between her legs, and was a bit surprised to find that the crotch of her sweatpants was damp. That familiar feeling had come back and Marcy’s pussy was crying out for attention. After another quick glance around, her hand somehow seemed to find its own way down inside the front of her sweats and to her wet pussy. Marcy continued to follow the young girl with her eyes as her hand gently played with her clit.

The girl went up to the Subway counter with one of the women whom Marcy guessed was most likely her mother. While the teenage server was preparing their order, she eyed the little girl numerous times. When the two left the counter with their order, it was apparent to Marcy that the server was checking out the child’s bum.

Shortly after that, the teenager that had served the pair went toward the restrooms on the other side of the food court passing close by the group of girls and women. The young girl, seeing this, got up and followed her into the ladies room. Several minutes later, the two girls came out again at the same time, both appearing flushed. They smiled at one another and then parted ways.

Did what I think happened really happen? Marcy asked herself, only adding fuel to the fire that was burning in her crotch.

She tried her best to act normal, holding her burger in one hand while the other was in her pants bringing herself to orgasm. Marcy bit her lip as her body shook in silent ecstasy. As she calmed down, she looked around to see if anyone had noticed.

Sitting in the food court, Marcy laughed to herself after considering what she had just done. She had masturbated in public while lusting over a preteen girl. Feeling safe, she eased her way out of the booth, took another look at the young nymph, and then left the mall.

During her last years of college, Marcy had hooked up with a few girls her own age. But it just wasn’t the same. Marcy decided at that point that it was the time she had a daughter of her own to love. It was then that she looked toward Jack to be the man to give her one…

 

Construction slowed the traffic, and Marcy turned her attention to what was going on outside her window. It was a brisk February day. The cloudy sky made the world seem drab and dreary. Car exhaust hung in the air like an early morning fog. Passersby were rushing to get to their destinations and out of the cold.

Standing in the doorway of a building directly across from her, Marcy saw two young girls in a loving embrace. The girls appeared to be no more than twelve or thirteen and close enough in appearance that they could be sisters, possibly even twins. They had a similar build and stood about the same height. One, however, had long blonde hair that reached below her shoulder blades. The other, short raven black hair. They were dressed in waist-length dark winter coats, blue jeans, and calf-high black boots trimmed with fur.

Much to Marcy’s delight, the girls started to kiss. The blonde reached down, placing a hand on the raven-haired girl’s ass and gently squeezing it. Their kiss was deep and passionate. Tongues danced together between their mouths. Hands explored forbidden places as best they could. Their hot breath rose in billowing clouds around their faces in the cold February air. Surprisingly, though, not a single passerby seemed to notice the two girls holed up in the doorway. Marcy was starting to feel that familiar warmth between her legs as she squeezed her thighs together out of instinct. Her gaze was fixed on the young lovers in the doorway and she silently hoped the traffic wouldn’t start moving again too soon.

Marcy could feel herself getting wet. Watching these girls brought back fond memories of hot summer nights making love to Zoey when they were the same age. Sleepovers were not uncommon for them, and they usually unfolded the same way. The girls would more or less behave themselves while the adults in the house were still awake. They would do the things most preteen girls do when they’re together. However, this didn’t stop them from making out or petting each other every now and then.

Once they were sure it was safe, the clothes would go away. The two would fall onto the bed and hold each other and begin to kiss as if they had been apart for months.

Zoey would always be the first to start to explore with her hand. First, she would caress Marcy’s arm, then her thighs, then back up to squeeze the small mounds on her chest, pinching at the nipples. Zoey would move her hand down over Marcy’s flat belly, dipping a finger into her bellybutton, and on to her sparse patch of pubic hair. After a couple of moments of playing there, Zoey would put two fingers on Marcy’s clit and slowly rub in a circular motion before moving down through her wet valley and into her moistening pussy, only to remove the fingers and place them back on her clit to start the cycle over again. This would drive Marcy wild, drawing out little whimpers and moans. Her body would twitch as bolts of electricity raced through her preteen body each time her clit was rubbed.

Taking one of Marcy’s small, yet very sensitive nipples into her mouth, Zoey would play her tongue around the nipple and gently suck on it. Simultaneously, she would rub her young friend’s clit harder and faster. Marcy would moan and claw at the sheets. It was hard not to make too much noise, but getting caught by Zoey’s mom was a real possibility which only served to add more excitement to their lovemaking.

By the time Zoey moved down to her throbbing pussy, Marcy had already had one small orgasm. Zoey savored the taste of Marcy’s juices with a long lick of her pussy before taking her clit into her mouth. She inserted two fingers into her vagina and with slightly curved fingers soon found Marcy’s special spot.

The horny Zoey fingered Marcy rapidly while her tongue rolled around her clit, and the twelve-year-old came hard. Marcy’s body went stiff as she pushed her hips up. Grabbing the pillow beside her, she held it over her face to muffle the scream that escaped her lungs. Zoey kept her mouth clamped on her young friend’s pussy and drank up all the juices that freely flowed from her. Once Marcy had come down off her high, she knew it would be her turn to make love to her dearest friend…

 

“Finally!” Jack exclaimed, bringing Marcy out of her daydream. As she looked back at the two lovers once more, the pair stopped kissing and simultaneously turned to look directly at Marcy. Their eyes locked with hers, and the two young girls smiled as if to say, We know you were watching us, and what you were thinking.

“At last the traffic is moving,” Jack continued, his wife’s lustful voyeurism going unnoticed.

Marcy glanced forward at the traffic for only a split second. But when she looked back at the doorway again it was empty. Marcy looked up and down the sidewalk as best she could from the car, but didn’t see a trace of the two girls.

* * *

Later that night as Marcy lay in bed, she found it difficult to keep her mind on the book she was reading. With the sad realization that she couldn’t have a child, and the incident with those two young girls on the street, her thoughts were scattered.

She closed her book and set it on the nightstand. Marcy was about to the turn off the light when there was a soft knock at the door.

“It’s open,” she said, knowing who was there. The door opened and Jack stepped in. He crossed the room and sat on the foot of her bed.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“I’ll be all right.”

“I had a thought. It might do us both some good to get away from here for a while,” he said, taking her hand in his.

She looked up at him, one eyebrow raised.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Next month I have that seminar in Florida to go to. I was thinking I could take some extra time off and we could both go down a few days prior. Gary from work went last year and he said the resort it’s held at is a small, out of the way place, and very nice. It has a pool and its own beach,” Jack explained.

Marcy was intrigued. “A beach, eh? It would be nice to get away from this miserable weather. When would we go?”

“The week after spring break. So no wild university parties going on,” Jack replied with a chuckle.

Marcy laughed and smiled. That was something she had not done a lot of lately. Maybe a getaway would do her some good. She looked back at Jack and grinned.

“Okay,” she said. “Sounds like fun.”

Continue on to Chapter 2

By Sammy

We had been sitting in the Starbucks parking lot with the radio on for what felt like hours before either of them made a peep. It was probably no more than a few minutes, but still, nearly a record silence for Lizzie.

“Can we at least get hot chocolate while we’re here, Mommy?” she finally asked.

It wasn’t funny, but I burst out laughing anyway, with Brenda joining in a little uneasily. I glanced in the rear view mirror and saw Lizzie stick out her tongue.

“Sure we can, honey bunch,” I said, putting on my best face and reaching into my purse for my wallet. “Why don’t you run in and get us three. With some cookies.”

“Okay. But when I get back, you’re not gonna be weird. And we’re gonna talk.”

“Honey nut snickerdoodle,” I told her. “With coconut. And it’s a deal.”

“I don’t think that’s a thing. No, that’s not a thing.”

“Well, then I guess we’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?”

Lizzie brandished a doughy fist at me and stomped off, gracefully. (Yeah, I know. How the hell do you stomp off gracefully?)

“So what happened? Really?”

I looked at Brenda, or tried to, my face hot with a mixture of arousal and embarrassment at my behavior at the house. “I saw them.”

“…saw them?”

“Paulette and Felicia. Together.”

“Oh my God… I know you told me a little bit about you guys, but I had no idea…”

“Of course you didn’t, Brenda.” I was surprised at the harshness in my voice, and turned away. Through my window I saw Lizzie getting in line in the coffee shop behind four or five people.

“So what did you see?”

“Something when I was walking up to the door.”

“What?”

“I didn’t know, not exactly. Not until I opened the door and walked in. They were in there, together.”

“In… where?”

“In the living room, in a sleeping bag. Together. Fucking.”

“Fucking?”

“I mean, I assume so. Whatever’s done between legs near the bottom of a sleeping bag.”

“And you just grabbed Lizzie?”

“And now we’re here.”

“Well, maybe it wasn’t what it looked like.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just that. Maybe… there’s more to it.”

“Like what? Maybe she was painting her mom’s toenails?”

“No, no… I’m sorry, Abby.” She reached her hands out and grasped one of mine, bringing us down to bask in the heater panel. “How—” I could sense her swallowing “—are you feeling?”

“I feel… ridiculous, more than anything else. But I had to get out of there. I couldn’t let Lizzie see that. To be introduced to real sex… like that.”

“Why not?” She asked.

I said nothing, and kept my eyes out the window.

“Because… you want to do it yourself? For real?”

The tears started again. “Paulette told me I shouldn’t! That I shouldn’t risk it. That it was unfair to Lizzie. And she and I, we were… helping each other. But then she just abandoned me. To do it herself.”

My shoulders sunk, a long second or two, before Brenda brought a heater-warmed hand to the back of my neck and began stroking. I relaxed into her touch.

“So you mean it’s not what she did, exactly…”

“Yes! This wasn’t how I was supposed to wrestle over this shit. I’m not stupid, or disingenuous by nature. I know what was coming. But I don’t do great with blindsiding under normal conditions…”

Brenda’s hands pulled away, together down to her lap. “I feel so selfish, now, having you run errands for me when you have so much to deal with.”

My instincts clicked, my hands taking hers again. “It is not an errand, Brenda, and I want you to stop with that silliness, okay? You are a very important part of my life.”

There was movement on her face, but it remained cast down.

“Look at me. One of the most important, okay?”

Her grin widened and I felt her fingers move across the back of my hands.

“That’s why you’re going to help me talk to Lizzie. Because there’s no way in hell I’m doing that myself.”

We shared a chuckle as I dried my eyes, turning away sharply to the side mirror when the back door opened and Lizzie climbed in, easily managing the tray in one arm. She leaned forward to place our cups in the holders between the seats, pausing for a moment as if to sense the energy in the car. Finally, she removed two dark brown cookies from a paper bag and handed one to each of us.

“No honey nut snickerdoodle. Coconut or not.” She paused once more. “But I’ll let it slide.”

Lizzie settled back, reached around for her seatbelt, darting her eyes away when it clicked, up to the rear view mirror where I was waiting for them, again, in which I melted when she smiled, again.

As we pulled out of the parking lot, my mind went unavoidably to Paulette as a mother, to what she must be thinking, wondering. She had to know I wouldn’t do anything silly like go to the police, but I couldn’t suffer a conversation with her to allay any fears. Not right now, anyway.

I made a right turn and continued on to Brenda’s house.

. . . . .

For the second time in an hour I found myself sitting in a car with a beautiful girl, staring at the ass of another one as she walked away. A better writer would probably resist the urge to tell you that her seat was offering her quite the déjà view, so it’s a very good thing I’m not one of those.

“I hope she’s okay, Mom,” said Lizzie. “I still think we should have gone in there. At least one of us.”

“I think she’ll be fine, sweetie. You know how strong she is.”

“It sucks that everyone can’t have a mom like you. Then the world would be a really great place.”

What an angel. “Sometimes not even good moms are enough, baby.”

“Hmph. If you say so…”

I saw my daughter’s eyes veer over my shoulder, and I turned my head to see a young girl, seven years old or so, latching Brenda’s backyard gate closed and walking down the driveway toward us. I’d never seen her before, but she was striking — thin, long, long legs for age, but adorable chub in the cheeks and an even cuter mess of brown hair. Lizzie rolled her window down and waved as the girl approached.

“Hi, Claire!”

“Hi, Lizzie,” the girl replied, less than enthusiastically. She didn’t speak for a few seconds once she reached the car, looking down shyly at a red envelope she held in both hands. “Is this your mom?”

“Yeah! Oh, sorry. Claire, this is my mom. Mom, this is Claire. Brenda’s sister.”

“Oh. Wow. Okay,” I eked out, mortified listening to the words leave my mouth. “It — it’s nice to meet you, Claire. You can call me Abby.”

“Are you guys who Brenna’s goin’ with?”

“Um, yes, sweetie. She’s going to stay with us for a bit.”

“I’m gonna miss her. I don’t ever see her pretty much at all. Now I probably never will.”

“Well, as long as it’s okay with your parents, you can come over to our house and visit whenever you like.”

“I… don’t think that’ll be okay.” She looked down again at the envelope. “But can you please give this to Brenda? My mom asked me to, but she’s fighting with Steve.”

“Your mom is?”

“No, Brenda. My mom isn’t home, but she told me before she left to get this to Brenda without Steve seeing it. So here.” Lizzie reached out the window and took the envelope from the girl’s hand, which was trembling faintly.

“Don’t worry, Claire,” Lizzie told her. “We will.”

“Thank you very much.”

Suddenly, her head jerked and she started around the front of the car. “Okay, my daddy’s here, bye!” she called as she ran toward a blue sedan that had pulled up in front on our left. “Tell Brenny… I love her. A lot. And thanks, thanks again.” And she was gone.

“I… didn’t know Brenda had a sister,” I said to Lizzie.

“Yeah, but with a different daddy. I only knew about her ’cause she was with Brenda’s mom once when she picked her up from the arena. She’s nice, and she’s really interested in skating too. But Brenda made me promise not to tell you or anyone ’cause… well, I don’t really know why, but her mom didn’t have her with Brenda’s dad, so something about that, I guess.” She looked up at me. “Are you mad I didn’t tell you?”

“No, of course not. I’m proud you kept your promise to Brenda. It means a lot to me that you did. For reasons you’re smart enough to figure out. But…” I started, taking her hand, “there is a secret, another Brenda secret, that I do need to talk to you about. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, Momma. I know.”

“And I have a Brenda secret that I need to share with you.” She looked at me, eyes widened slightly. I nodded.

“I’ve thought about that… so much.”

I decided not to hold back. “That makes me feel really good, sweetie. Inside, and down below.” Her smile told me I’d decided right. “How about we get Brenda settled, and then we’ll have a talk. About everything.” She looked at me expectantly. “Yes, Paulette, Felicia, everything.”

She threw her arms around my neck and kissed the side of my mouth, slowly dragging her lips across my cheek until she was right beside my ear. “I wanna kiss you like, well, you know, Momma. But I know it’s not a good idea right now.”

“No, not a good idea at all…” I managed, already dripping wet. “I’m glad you’re such a thoughtful little girl. But Christ,” I added, lazily slapping my forehead and closing my eyes. “You gotta cut it out sometimes.”

We laughed, mingled for a few moments in each others’ eyes, and settled for a peck that nearly had me coming in my seat anyway.

“But first,” I said, composing myself, “I have a surprise to show my two girls.”

“A surprise?”

“Yes, something I think you’ll both enjoy very much.”

After Brenda got in the car with her bags, looking a little stressed but still chipper, I handed her the envelope. I told her who it was from, and how, but I didn’t pry. She thanked me and said nothing more.

I checked my phone. One missed call from Paulette, no voicemail. I turned it off as we pulled away. I didn’t want any interruptions.

. . . . .

It must not have looked like much to them as we pulled up, the large house nondescript save the bright purple shutters, but inside was the product of probably more work than anything I’d done in years, let alone in collaboration with someone else. I’d struggled to keep it secret, and whether to keep it secret. Walking up the cobblestones, Lizzie took both my and Brenda’s hands, and as we stepped inside, and they both got a good look, I felt a squeeze for the ages.

“What is all this, Momma?”

“Well, this is your grandmother, Lizzie,” I said.

Both girls stood for a moment, taking in the careful arrangement of photographs, articles, and notices; racks of all manner of skate gear and outfits spanning her career; and cases of trophies, certificates, and brightly colored ribbons of red, blue, gold, and one, a little left of center in the second rack, in pink.

“This is amazing, Abby.”

“I’m glad you think so, Brenda,” I told her, running my fingers up and down her arm.

Lizzie picked up a folder of photos and clippings from a LIFE shoot, done soon after my mother’s first gold medal, her incredible body spread across the pages in outfits more and more provocative. I watched as Lizzie’s eyes focused on a parody of the famous Coppertone ad, which featured the tip of my mother’s bottom peeking out as a baby polar bear tugged down her tights.

“How did you do all of this?” she asked.

“Well, you know there’s no real Hall of Fame for Canadian figure skating open to the public, and rather than donate her stuff to some limited selection only viewable by appointment, I thought I’d set something up here. So I got in touch with a very nice man at Skate Canada, who put me in touch with an archivist at CBC, and she helped me track down what I didn’t already have. And even helped with a grant for the lease on this place.”

“But where was all the stuff you did have, Mom? I don’t think I’ve seen more than a few of these things before.”

“In storage. I thought maybe showing them, like this, would make up for keeping them hidden away for so long. I’m sorry I did that, Lizzie.”

“I don’t care,” she said, enveloping me in a wide, warm hug. “Thank you, Momma. This is wonderful. More wonderful than I could have imagined.”

I squeezed back, inhaling her scent. Brenda joined in, wrapping her arms around us and kiss-kiss-kissing the side of my head. “Yes, Abby, thank you, thank you.”

“There’s something more, girls.”

I led them into an adjacent alcove, designated with a hand-painted sign that read Pat on the Podium.

“I know you’ve asked about these,” I said to Lizzie, pulling the Olympic medals, two golds and a silver, out of a mahogany case. “And I know I said they had been stolen. Which is what my mother told me. But the CBC archivist was able to help me track them down — because they were in her building!”

She looked at me, puzzled. “How, Mom?”

“Your grandmother just dropped them off anonymously in the lobby one day. with some other stuff. In a cardboard box. Apparently, it’s kind of a legendary story over there. Up there with Glenn Gould going gaga when Barbra Streisand stopped by.”

I doubt their attention survived my trivia droning, rapt as they were examining the medals, Lizzie with the first gold, and Brenda with the second and silver.

“Amazing…” she whispered.

I looked at the sight before me, the sight of their sight, in awe and curiosity and love, undoubtedly, and placed my hands around the hips of each beautiful girl, breathing in, feeling full.

“Amazing’s right.”

. . . . .

After the girls had examined and inquired about every piece of our little museum, and I got their valuable input about how to finish the set-up ahead of the opening, Lizzie wanted to show off the cooking skills she’d developed at Ellen’s. She made a lovely chicken parmesan — quite impressive for a girl of ten — which we enjoyed leisurely by candlelight, talking only a little, sharing our mutual anticipation for what we knew was to come.

My own glass of wine at dinner weakened my resolve enough to allow Brenda a glass afterwards, though not enough for more than a sip to Lizzie, who didn’t take to it anyway.

We were relaxing in front of the fire, a collection of Satie recordings on the stereo. Brenda was elbow-on-knee, reading a book of poems whose author I didn’t know, and I was running my fingers up and down my daughter’s arm as we lay together, her back to me. Lizzie’s eyes were closed, but I knew she wasn’t asleep. I love watching her in such moments: her vitality and vividness of presence diminish by none, merely adapt. There wouldn’t be a better opportunity, I thought to myself.

“Felicia…” I saw her stir “…and Paulette.”

Lizzie’s lip trembled, and I could tell she was struggling to stay cool. I knew Brenda was listening too.

“I saw them, together, when I went to pick you up. You know what I mean, right?”

“Uh-huh.” She was looking at me now. “Having sex.”

“That’s right.”

“Why were you so mad? I mean, you and me, we…” She struggled to find the words.

Brenda was respectfully silent and her eyes remained on the book, but I could see her sneaking glances.

“It’s hard to explain, sweetie. Some if is stuff between me and Paulette that we don’t need to get into.”

“But you already did stuff with Paulette, right?”

“That’s right. We’ve had sex.”

“And since we, well, might, you know…” She blushed. “I’m just confused.”

I struggled to answer her. “It was without my consent, or knowledge, Lizzie. It was too much, and the wrong way.  Because,” I cupped her face, “make no mistake, Lizzie. I want to have sex with you. I want to be your first. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything.”

My daughter let out a whimper, barely audible, as she licked her lips.

“And I know,” I said, turning to Brenda, “someone else does, too.” Lizzie joined my eyeline, and both of them blushed. “Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” Brenda allowed, looking a little shocked at my words. But she didn’t blanch. “Hell, yes. For years. Gosh.” She finished off her wine and placed the empty glass on the coffee table.

“Me, too, Brenny,” Lizzie whispered excitedly, turning back to me. “And you, Mommy. Ever since that kiss, I think, after we watched the video of Gramma. That’s still about the best night I can remember having. I love you so much. I want us to be together in that way, and every way.”

“Oh, Lizzie,” and my lips were on hers.

God, I missed her like this — I’d had no idea how much. I managed to restrain myself from complete devouring but crept toward it with delight, humming dreamily when my daughter’s tongue became the first to introduce itself, sucked and chewed as I felt her hand on my breast and an exquisite sensation on the back of my neck, soon, I realized, the product of Brenda’s lips, leaving streaks of saliva I could feel the air nibbling on.

“I’ve wanted you,” she said, “for just as long as I’ve wanted Lizzie, Abby. But you already know that.”

I murmured in assent, unable to leave Lizzie, who, remarkably, had worked my blouse open during our necking. Such a sweet little sex-fiend I had raised! And with such exquisite little tits! Which, I will say, haven’t grown much from the early peaks they were at that moment when I pulled her top over her head and marveled at them, nipples like dollops of strawberry cream. I bent my mouth down and took one in, chewing in response to her anxious squeals of “Mommy!”

Brenda had removed my blouse and was doing the same to my black bra, peeling the lace cups away and tweaking my nipples, which strained toward her touch. “So fucking beautiful. Goddammit. My dream.”

“I saw her first!” Lizzie chirped, winking as she took her turn on my nipples, my mind drifting back to memories of her nursing, exposing the reels to a transformative new light.

“Mmm, so nice, Lizzie. I love how you make me feel.”

“I’m so wet right now…” Brenda whispered hoarsely, nibbling my ear lobe in the same breath.

“Lemme feel,” I urged, thrusting my hand in the general direction of her lap. From touch I knew she had discarded everything but her panties, and likewise wasted no time getting my searching fingers to her sopping wet pubic hair. “Such a hot little cunny,” I wheezed out, stroking and poking.

“So hot for you, Abby.” Brenda set to tweaking my nipples, whichever one Lizzie wasn’t attached to at the time, switching back and forth.

“That feels heavenly, Brenda,” I moaned. “But may I see your tits?”

She laughed. “Sure, when you ask so sweetly and all…” Her black tee with the band emblem was added to the growing clothes pile behind us, and then there they were, small but perfect, like Lizzie’s but nurtured naturally and with care.

“You’re lovely. Perfect.”

Brenda gave me a goofy grin. “I don’t think they’d mind if you showed ’em your appreciation.”

“They do look awful welcoming.”

“I wanna see more of your daughter while you do, though.”

“I think I do, too.”

“I’m here, you know!” Lizzie harrumphed. “That seems like a habit with you guys.” We all giggled.

“Shut up and let her undress you.” I smiled, as I nodded to Brenda, “Get to it, hussy.”

“Old lady slang aside,” Brenda said, “you sure know how to make ’em, Abby. And raise ’em.”

Lizzie looked down with expectation and maybe a little pride as Brenda stroked up and down her tights, clearly luxuriating. Their eyes met. “You are fucking beautiful, girl.”

The spandex was soon gone, Lizzie’s panties either wrapped up inside them or forgone entirely. The disappointment at not getting to remove them myself, or at least see her in them, was entirely mitigated by the sight of her pussy, even more radiant than Brenda had described it, deep pink spreading in a perfect fade to the paleness of the surrounding skin and, on the uppermost portion, a set of fine golden ridges twining into a soft patch above.

Lizzie’s clit was already well-developed, peeking out adorably, and I found myself unable to resist. I started with a kiss, which she met with a giggle, which I answered with slurp. I could see her grip tighten on Brenda, whose breasts she had been lazily pawing. I focused on my daughter’s cunt, exploring with both a lover’s lust and the deep affection of a mother; I’d never felt either so intensely before. I reveled in her golden fleece, flicking my tongue across its tips — when I had an image of some mythological hero coming to steal it all away from me, and felt suddenly possessive. Not so much that I’d never share Lizzie with anyone, clearly. On the contrary, I felt compelled to show her off.

I felt Lizzie’s legs tense and I looked up, thinking I’d made her come, feeling her grip strain and tighten again. But my eyes moved further and I saw hers, drawing toward the doorway.

It wasn’t Jason and the Argonauts there, but Paulette, grin creeping up, with an awestruck Felicia by her side.

I hastily wiped a gob of girl-cum from the side of my mouth.

“I, uh, tried calling, Abby,” Paulette said, “but your phone’s been off for hours.” She motioned to Felicia. “We came by to… talk.”

I was too stunned to speak.

Felicia didn’t have the same problem. She and Lizzie shrieked each other’s names at once. “You look so… so beautiful, Lizzie! They are playing, Mommy, they are!”

Paulette stroked the back of her daughter’s head in response. “I saw Brenda from outside,” she said, gesturing to the beautiful demurring girl, “really, really focused on something a little lower.” Paulette smiled and looked down expectantly. “Something pretty interesting, from the looks of it.”

“And, and, so—” I felt myself getting flustered, unable to form words, or even to complete my thoughts. “You thought you’d j-just —”

“Walk in and have a look?”

So flustered she’d beat me clean to the irony, which her shit-eating grin revealed she knew very well. Paulette also knew just how irresistible I found that grin.

Lizzie disentangled herself from my still-tensing limbs, stood up, and, without a word or a hint of self-consciousness, walked over, in all her natural perfection, to her very best friend in the whole wide world and kissed her on the cheek.

“I love you, Felicia,” she said. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too, Lizzie.” Felicia kissed her back, on the lips. “Both things.”

And at once all the day’s events, maybe more, maybe every one of its hours and minutes and seconds seemed to press upon me with great weight until the dam burst and it came cascading down, cleansing and renewing, until I realized with finality that I had pretense to nothing at all but pleasure.

“I’m really trying to come up with something clever, Ab,” said Paulette as she stared at the girls. “But all I got is your daughter’s cunt looks delicious.”

Lizzie and Felicia grew quiet.

“Uh, yeah, I’m kind of in disbelief myself…” I said, slightly dazed.

“So much different than in the locker room, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yes,” I replied, a little more confidently. Paulette eyed me as I took in Felicia’s bottom half, in tight white track pants. “There’s quite a bit from the locker rooms I wouldn’t mind seeing in another light…”

Our eyes met, and I knew we had the same thought.

“Would I be presumptuous in assuming you all might be up for some… comparative appreciation?”

At once, both Lizzie and Felicia blurted out: “We’re right here, you know!”

The three adults — or close enough — laughed at the pouts, which Felicia answered with a stomp of her boot as she began to disrobe. “If you wanna see my cunny, just say so, Abby!”

“Oh, precious, I want to see your cunny, and so, so much more…”

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you, Brenda,” Paulette mused, biting her lip and glaring hungrily at the nude high-schooler. “I think my tits were exactly like yours at that age. I wish they’d stayed there, to be honest.”

Brenda smiled. “Comparison seems to be a theme tonight…”

She made her way with purpose to Paulette, starting to undress the older woman under a flurry of soft introductory kisses. Lizzie took the cue from her coach and started doing the same to Felicia, and it was now my turn for wonder at the dual disrobings taking place in my foyer. After Lizzie had finished helping her friend out of her clothes, she kissed her deeply on the mouth, pulling away to whisper, loud enough for me to hear, one more “I love you, Felly.” I began to usher us all to my bedroom, silently grateful that I’d decided not to replace my old ratty king-size mattress with something smaller.

When my foot reached the bottom stair, I looked back at Paulette, who was tucking her and her daughter’s boots into the front closet.

“…and lock the goddamn door!”

. . . . .

In all honesty, I can’t recall with much precision the sequence of the next four hours or so. I remember everything vividly, but almost as a single instance, temporally free, if you follow me.

Brenda finally getting at Lizzie’s butthole, tonguing deep inside that obscure object of desire, propped up on a pillow, me holding her legs as wide as I could, Paulette spreading her tense cheeks obscenely, Felicia sitting fat and happy astride her face, humming at the tongue-lashing received from the girl she was realizing was the love of her life; they were each other’s, that was undeniable, in way that neither Paulette nor I could encroach upon, though we knew we were loves of their lives, and each other’s, too, distinct but blissfully overlapping. In many ways, Brenda felt like the nucleus, giving and taking from each in turn, her excessive bathing in my daughter’s backchannels clearly an act of both. Lizzie loved having her asshole eaten, and we each took a turn, swapping roles with ease as my daughter lay throbbing, infectious energy urging us further still down our dark, delightful pathway.

The four of us feasted on all Lizzie’s little bits as we fed in turn on our own ecstasies, and each other’s, looking back and forth, between the eager responses of the body below and the possessed endless glee we all took in manipulating it, in the twitches and pulses. One raw nerve.

I remember Brenda, Lizzie, and I stopping after a fresh round of orgasms to watch Paulette make love to her daughter, slowly, with great curiosity and playfulness, over the course of what must have been an hour or more. There is one moment or sequence in particular: Felicia, Paulette having pulled her into a beautiful sixty-nine, greedily collecting her mother’s fluids on her fingers, first as a treat to her lips, then as lubricant as she worked one digit, then two, into Momma’s asshole. Paulette had waxed most of her nether-regions since she last time we were together, keeping a neat bush, and her whole slick was greased. She urged Felicia into her ass, taking long tastes of the girl’s own, trading with raw though purposeful trips through her vagina, lips sketched with faint hair of a deep black nevertheless. I couldn’t wait to see how her cunt developed.

“I love you, Mommy,” Felicia wailed, “I love you!”

“So much, baby, love you so much…” her mother moaned back. “Love you all…”

As expert as Paulette was at eating pussy, her daughter probably gave me the biggest orgasm that night — though she didn’t do it alone and it had a little something to do with my looking over as Felicia was starting, and seeing Brenda doing the same to my daughter.

Brenda seemed to start out nervously, trying to find the right rhythm, sweat dripping from her face onto Lizzie’s crotch, who, meanwhile, was enjoying things just fine. I was about to ask Felicia to stop so I could reach over and reassure the older girl… but just then Brenda looked up, taking in Lizzie’s obvious pleasure, and appeared to relax into it. “I’ve wanted to do this since the first second I saw you,” she whispered to Lizzie. “I’m so happy.”

“M-me too, Brenny,” Lizzie got out, almost too aroused to speak. “You’re making me feel so good! Almost… almost as good as Mommy!” She noticed my attention and looked back at me, embarrassed. “Almost!”

I laughed, clasping her hand tightly, then felt a sudden surge of activity at my own opening, fingers joining fingers. I looked down and saw that Paulette had crawled up from her daughter’s ass and was whispering in her ear, trying attentively to demonstrate some kind of hand position for Felicia at the same time.

Oh, God. She was teaching her daughter to fist me.

I squeezed Lizzie’s hand and let my head fall, our moans joining each other’s as Brenda continued to eat her out.

“That’s it, sweets,” Paulette cooed as Felicia’s hand began to curl inside my cunt, which her mother was augmenting with a zealous stroking of my clit. “Get your whole hand in there, right up your Aunt Abby’s cunt…”

Our eyes met on ‘Aunt Abby’, something Felicia had never called me but which nearly had me coming on the spot. I wrapped my legs around most of both of them, humping up as the ten-year-old’s fist went sliding down, helped along by her mother’s patient and adoring hands. Finally, she was all the way in, with both Brenda and Lizzie watching, astonished, as this little girl pumped her forearm in and out of me.

“Lizzie,” Paulette said, “why don’t you come and lick around your Mommy’s pussy while Felicia fists her?”

Lizzie giggled. “Felicia fists, Felicia fists, Felicia fists five fingers,” she sputtered out. “That’s a good tongue twister!”

Paulette and I shared another took. “Too easy,” she said.

My daughter made her way over to my crotch. As soon as that little pink bit left her lips and touched mine down below, I exploded, unimaginable pleasure coursing through every part of my body, and I passed out.

I awoke a little later to find Paulette’s face buried in my snatch, while Brenda nursed greedily from my nipples, going from breast to breast. In between licks she’d move her mouth over to the twenty ten-year-old toes between us, where Lizzie’s and Felicia’s bodies stretched down the bed, pressed tightly to each other, hands roving, tiny lips smooching, faces barely visible. I struggled to hear what they were whispering to each other so urgently, collecting tender pieces, warm refrains of “love you”—”missed you”.

The girls soon fell asleep, I came, for what must have been the tenth time, and then Brenda brought her lips up to my cheek.

“This really happened,” she said, yawning. “Didn’t it, Abby?”

“It’s happened, love,” I told her. “Really.”

“Rilly, rilly…”

She, too, was soon dozing atop my breast, uneven layers of cum caked to her cheeks like pastry frosting. I gave her a long, slow lick, chancing that a nibble at the side of her mouth wouldn’t wake her. There was a giggle across the bed and I turned to see Paulette where she had crawled to, grinning evilly and chewing the edge of my off-white comforter. I considered another go at her cunt, starting toward her on my knees in mock-prowl mode, but realized immediately I didn’t have the energy. Her laugh let me know she didn’t either, and she beckoned me into her arms.

“Things… really got away from us today, didn’t they?” she said.

“You could say that.”

“I’m so sorry, Abby, really. For lying to you. I just couldn’t say. I don’t know why. I was so happy and so ashamed at the same time… but what happened shouldn’t have happened like it did.”

“Well, I don’t know what happened, Paulette. Or how.”

“We were there last night, watching a movie, and Lizzie fell asleep…”

“No, how did it all start?”

“Just… let me get through this part, okay? I think it’ll be better.”

I nodded.

“The kids were in their sleeping bags watching the movie, and I was down there next to them, sitting on the floor wearing a robe. After Lizzie fell asleep, Felicia told me how pretty she thought Lizzie was. I agreed. Then she said that really turned her on, that I thought Lizzie was pretty. Then… she asked if Lizzie could play with us.”

“…play?”

“Play. That’s what we call it. I told her no. I said that was a decision you and Lizzie needed to make together. She was annoyed, but she agreed.”

“Okay…”

“She wanted us to play, though, so I started to urge her upstairs. But she stopped me. She said she didn’t want to go upstairs. She said if we couldn’t play with Lizzie, then we were going to play right next to Lizzie. And then her hands went to my breasts. I told her no, again, so she said she was going to go play with Lizzie herself.”

Paulette’s tone grew more serious. “I didn’t know what to do, Ab. I didn’t even know if she really meant it. She probably wouldn’t have done anything, or I know it wouldn’t have mattered even if she had. I — I just knew I didn’t want to risk it.”

“Go on.”

“So, uh, I gave in. I got in my daughter’s sleeping bag with her, and we played. She and I played for a long time, and… I think Lizzie might have woken up at some point and seen us, but I can’t say for sure. And when we finally finished playing, I stayed with her. I slept in the sleeping bag with Felicia.”

“Okay. And?”

She swallowed. “And… and then this morning, after we woke up together it just sort of started again, all by itself, and that’s… when you came in.”

She was almost in tears, and my heart ached for her. It was obvious I had no idea just how many shades and degrees there would be to fucking your pre-teen daughter. And as soon as that thought crossed my mind, I was dripping again.

“I don’t believe you, Paulette.”

“Y-you don’t?”

I smiled at her. “I don’t think that was it at all. I think you had that beautiful thing over there,” I said, pointing to Felicia, “all hot ‘n bothered, with that other little thing just a few feet away, and I think… I think you had a couple of hot little pussies right in front of you, and you just couldn’t keep your hands clean.”

We had been here often enough. Paulette knew what I was doing. “Well, you saw just how fun it was getting them dirty, when you walked in.”

“Not true,” I reminded her with a smile. “I didn’t see much of anything, in fact. Just Felicia’s feet sticking out of that sleeping bag like the Wicked Witch.”

“I’m pretty sure you bought her those striped knee-socks.”

“Ha-ha. Go on.”

“Where was I again?”

“I think we were getting to the original how, and the when.”

She nestled in closer to me, and began to play with my nipple. “It was right around the time Lizzie went to camp. Or a few days after. I had just said goodnight to Felicia when I heard her crying from the hallway. I went inside, to her, to the bed. Asked what was wrong. She said she missed Lizzie. Tons. She loved her, said she was in love with her.”

“Lizzie told me the same thing.” We shared another silent look at their sleeping bodies, still together.

“She started talking about how beautiful she thought Lizzie was, how much she liked being with her in the changing rooms…”—I could picture them then, mother stroking her daughter’s hair—”…comparing their breasts…”—Felicia’s hands creeping up her little girl’s chest—”…standing next to each other naked in the mirror, tugging on their barely-there-pubic hair…”—there, grabbing it in the bed, feeling it, fingers creeping down—”…Felicia telling Lizzie she couldn’t even see hers, so blonde was it, just an excuse to get nice and close…lean in…and…” Paulette slipped a digit in between my lips “…and take a lick.”

And I came, again, for the last time that night, blindly, half-consciously reaching my hand to Paulette’s cunt, for at least some symbolic reciprocity for the pleasure she had given me.

Sated, exhausted, with barely enough energy to blink, my mind nevertheless managed to crawl to a poem I’d read in college when I felt myself  sinking into the tangle of torsos and limbs I’d welcomed into my bed, spying the spindly branches outside the window, cool arms murmurously about me lay/While myriad snowy hands are clustering at the panes…

And it was dark.

. . . . .

Now, light on, many lights, high and low, cheering and cheering, music maybe but hard to hear, definitely something in the small of my back, a hand, Felicia’s, which I reach and grasp and pull through the crowd, surging even in the winner’s circle as we eagerly seek its new queen.

She’s moving slowly towards us, a sprite gold-bedecked amongst trees of tweed and down and leather whose congratulations she accepts with polite haste. Thanks, yes, later, she tells the reporters; write me, to the fans, I’ll answer personally.

I look over and see Brenda hand-in-hand with her mother, who is wearing Felicia’s medal, uncannily like the color of her lustrous metallic hair. She sees me and smiles, turning to the younger woman and kissing her close to the lips, quite close, close enough for suspicions to arise in, perhaps, only those who know what they’re looking for. Like me.

Oh. But I guess you don’t know what you’re looking for. Not exactly. Not yet. You don’t know about Brenda and her mother, or her sister, or that red envelope. It really is a lovely story. But it’s not mine to tell.

Brenda should be along shortly, to do that all by herself.

By Openmindedwoman

By Sunnybunny

Six AM sharp found Heather groggy and irritable despite having retired at an early hour the evening before. She had masturbated herself into a stupor, until she was a sweaty mess mewling on the disheveled bed spread like a bitch in heat. Each new climax becoming more intense than the last, as if the force peeled away a new layer of pent up frustration until she was totally exposed to the pleasure like a raw nerve.

She had begun sitting on the edge of the mattress, pants and underwear drawn down to her knees while she massaged the vibrator into her under-stimulated flesh, thinking the urge more a bothersome nuisance and masturbation simply a means to an end. Scratching an itch, she reasoned once she began. How long had it been since she had taken a lover? How long had it been since she enjoyed it? The questions were distracting, hindering the irritatingly slow-to-build orgasm so she set them aside, trying to focus her mind and coaxed out fresh images of Angie into her imagination without realizing what she was doing. Her mind simply drifted there, as if carried there on a summer breeze, and settled down happily into place on her brain, refusing to budge.

She pictured Angie as she was in the car beside her, wearing the flimsy dress only now she was lifting it up by the ends, daintily with two fingers each, to show off the fact she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. From behind the curtain of fabric, she wore her all too familiar knowing grin that was rapidly becoming her trademark look.

The first orgasm sent her reeling back on the bed, turtling up her limbs and holding herself while she moaned in the throes of beautiful agony.

But the images of Angie refused to abandon her and grew more intense, lewder in nature. Soon, she was stark naked beside Heather as they roared down the freeway, one leg cocked on the dash and both hands spreading her hairless labia apart while she cheekily sang, “How many licks does it take to get to the center of an Angie-pop?”

Heather rolled onto her belly, hiking up her shirt and bra and grasped desperately at her chest. It must have looked a pathetic sight, she recounted. A grown woman, bare ass in the air, thighs apart and massaging the buzzing contraption against her swollen clit, anxious to cum again.

A nice game, she thought as Heather wiggled out of the rest of her clothes. A challenge by Angie to see how mercilessly she could tease while she has to keep both hands on the wheel until she can’t take it any longer and pulls over against the side of the road and attacks the young girl’s body.

Another incredible orgasm dissolved her into a quivering mess but the fire between her legs would not be sated. Worse, the stimulation seemed to be stoking the flames until it threatened to consume her!

She growled in frustration and pressed her forehead into the cool sheets, realizing all at once just how sweaty she had become. Heather used the comforter to wipe at the sodden flesh of her vagina and pressed the vibrator to her clit again, coming almost at once while the fourth and fifth (sixth?) times were longer in length.

By morning, she stank of sweat and sex and decided a shower would be the best option before daring to go near anyone with a keen nose. She couldn’t bear the thought of catching someone’s eye on the first day of her new job and finding a wide smile there, perhaps followed by a knowing wink from some old farm hand. Gag!

She lathered up with the room’s complimentary soap and shampoo and emerged later wrapped in two terrycloth towels smelling of fresh lemons.

“Great,” she intoned to the empty room. “I smell like a dining room floor…”

She dressed rather casually for her first day. Based on Mama Maven’s garb, Heather doubted there was a code of business casual and opted for a pair of dark blue jeans, her best pair of sneakers and a black t-shirt featuring the logo of a band long since broken up from the 1980’s. It felt appropriate, since everything else in the town seemed stuck in the past. When in Rome…

From her toiletry bag, she smeared a bit of gel through her hair after brushing it out and blew it dry. At the last moment, she opted to tuck the shirt in, a last ditch act of formality before spritzing on body mist and heading for the door.

It was still dark outside and the street lights (the ones still working, anyway) cast ghoulish images along the barren road. The wind was stronger than it had been in the afternoon, lashing the road with whips made of coarse sand. A glass bottle clattered noisily through the parking lot before coming to an abrupt rest at the foot of a fresh dune.

It was strangely serene, certainly a dramatic shift from the hustle and bustle of the life she had left behind. Despite the hour, there was no chance some lowlife would leap out of one of the dark corners with a gun, demanding money or something more unpleasant. There were no vagabonds lining the road with cardboard signs decrying their plight. No piles of garbage bags spilling out from the bins. There was a rustic charm to Oasis that just would not be denied.

The diner loomed ahead, light fanning from every window like a lighthouse on the coast, a great beacon in the still night air. Heather stole a glance in the direction of the garage just across the way, barely able to spy the outline of the building in the gloom. No surprise since based on what Angie had shared so far about her father, she would be greatly surprised if he were a morning person.

Mama Maven emerged from the kitchens at the sound of the door chime. “Bless your heart!” She cooed, wiping her wrinkled old hands down the front of her withered apron. “Right on time!” The old woman came forward and took Heather’s hands in hers, beaming in delight. “This way, follow me and I’ll give you a basic idea of what you’ll be doing today! Quickly, now! The first few customers are probably on their way right now!”

The tour did not take long. Even with the hurried nature of the grand excursion, there was little to see. The cooking equipment consisted of massive beasts of metal and rivets, looking more like World War II fighting machines than kitchen appliances. The pots and pans, too, seemed as if they had been plucked free from a time capsule and hung on delicate iron hooks over the massive stove.

“You needn’t worry about too much of this here though!” Maven explained, directing her attention to an open window between the kitchen and dining area. “Orders come in and orders go out.” She slapped her hand against the polished wood. “You just worry about seein’ they get where they need to go. Under the register there,” she pointed through the window into the other room and Heather had to stand on tiptoe in order to see where she was pointing. “Got a spare apron for ya and there yonder is a pen and pad. You set ’em up and I’ll knock it out as the young people like to say!”

Did they really say that? She doubted it but Maven’s enthusiasm was proving infectious and she found herself grinning.

“You got it, chief!” She saluted with two fingers like a good scout.

Mama Maven beamed right back and made a shooing motion with a flick of her wrist. “Go on now, get ready! We got our first customers comin’ in now!”

Her premonition proved eerily true as not a moment later, just as Heather was about to ask how she knew, the sound of car tires crunching along gravel echoed in from the front of the store.

Heather hurried to the counter and snatched up the white apron and tied it around her middle, looping a tight bow just below her navel.

“Show time!” Mama Maven cried out from the back of the house.

The ‘breakfast rush’ turned out to be a handful of ranch hands and landowners, showing up in gigantic-tired pickup trucks and bounding back dozens of cups of coffee and plates of pancakes before heading out to the fields. They were loading up on a few thousand calories before toiling the day away in the Arizona heat. To say Heather’s presence caused a bit of stir would have been an understatement. The crowd of cowboy hats and boots halted in the doorway, mouths agape as she offered to show them a seat in the smoking section. (A bad joke since the entire restaurant was a smoking area, somehow abstaining from more progressive ideas of public health.) Then, as they continued to stare as if she had sprouted a second head, one by one they removed their hats and held them over their hearts.

They took seats quietly, like a pack of freshly scolded school boys, stealing glances over at Heather while she busily took orders and filled coffee mugs. It was eerily quiet, too quiet, she thought. So silent they were that she could hear Maven banging around with pans in the back in preparation and got the distinct feeling that this was a rarity. She saw these men as a rowdier bunch, all loud gas and tasteless jokes about minorities.

At last, one of them spoke up…well sort of. He was middle-aged and sporting a thin, waxy mustache, raising his hand, again like a nervous child, unsure if he really knew the answer to the question on the blackboard. “Excuse me but,” he said, “but… who are you?”

That unleashed an eruption of questions, each louder than the last as they struggled to be heard.

“Are you a friend of Mama’s?”

“What’s your name?”

“Do you live around here?”

“Are you new in town?”

“When did you get to Oasis?”

“Where did you-?”

“What about-?”

Heather backed away dumbstruck, overwhelmed and a little intimidated. These guys were acting as if they hadn’t been in the presence of a woman their entire lives! “Boys, boys, boys!” she shouted until they settled down. “My name is Heather! I’ll be your waitress today! I’m very new in town, no I’m not an old friend of Mama Maven, I’m–!”

She was interrupted by another eruption of questions before she could finish answering the first. It became such a racket that after a time, Mama shuffled out of the back, hands pressed to her hips, asking what all the commotion was.

“You boys ought to be ashamed of yourselves,” Maven scolded, giving each of them a hard stare that they of course averted. “Heather is my newest employee, newest member of our fine community, and you all need to behave! Sakes alive, not a single manner among the bunch of you!” An awkward pause followed, the men shuffling nervously in their seats until Mama Maven gave the room a satisfied nod and shuffled back to the kitchen.

She touched Heather on the arm before departing, “They’re all yours now. Any one of them gets out of line, give ‘em a hard punch in the You-Know-What!” Before Heather could say anything in reply, Mama winked and hurried off.

“You’re going to be the talk of the town for a spell,” Maven later warned her, jovially. They stood out on the back patio of the restaurant, facing away from Oasis and the miles and miles of open field before them and the mountains rising up in the distance. In the early morning light, they were painted a gorgeous violet splash of color. A stark contrast to the light tan dunes at their feet.

After just an hour into her first shift, the rush was over or as Mama explained, the ‘first rush’ was done. They would be due for another in a half hour then a third. After that, it would be dead until lunch.

Maven produced an honest-to-God cigar, half-smoked, and chomped down on it like a cartoon villain. “Would you mind?” she asked, holding out a matchstick. “My hands shake too bad to easily light the damn thing anymore. Thanks, you’re a peach.”

It was during the prolonged silence that followed, Mama Maven puffing away on her cigar and watching the sunrise, that Heather asked something that had been niggling at her all morning.

“Was this a… more of a light morning here?”

“You mean that rush wasn’t what you expected,” Mama grinned and tapped a finger to her hearing aide. “This doesn’t always work but this old noggin’ can be pretty perceptive when it wants to be. Just takes a few cranks to get it started.” She chuckled at her own joke, making Heather grin too. “The God’s honest truth is that I could run the front as well as the back, been doin’ it for years but old Doc Phillips keeps warning me to slow down and like a blessing from on High, you stroll into the house! Do you believe in miracles, Heather? Divine intervention? Don’t matter. God uses us all, in time, whether we realize it or not.”

Heather didn’t bother answering, instead quieting and thinking on what sort of person she was. If there was a God (and to her, that was a pretty big IF) would he really have use for someone that cuts out on an entire life in the middle of the night with a small fortune of money that didn’t technically belong to her? What about one that feels up little girls in the desert? What is God’s plan for THAT woman? she wondered.

Mama Maven continued, “He calls on all of us eventually. The big question is, will you be willing to answer?”

Heather shook her head and changed the subject as quickly as was polite. “So you usually run the whole place yourself, huh? That’s pretty impressive though I imagine it gets pretty lonely.”

Mama nodded, smiling, “That it does, but I suppose that was a bit of a fib on my part. I get help sometimes, here and there.”

“From who?”

“Some of the kids ‘round town come in every now and again and help out where’s needed. I put a few bills in their hands or a free breakfast in their tummy in exchange. You met Angie yet? Little angel. If you haven’t met her yet, you’re going to soon enough. Just the sweetest little thing Oasis has to offer. Outside of my apple pie, of course.”

Heather crossed her legs, the name conjuring up the girls face in her mind. “Yea, we’ve met and you’re definitely right about that. She’s really… something.”

The conversation would have continued but the sound of a new set of tires crunching over gravel signaled the end to their break. Maven motioned toward the door with her cigar, “You head on in and seat whoever that is. I’m going to finish my smoke.”

Heather nodded and stood up, stretching her arms high over her head before heading inside. “Sorry, welcome!” she called, plucking free the pencil she had stashed behind her ear. “What can I get… you…?”

She rounded the corner and froze in her tracks, gawking at the tall figure filling the door frame.

It seemed all the men in town wore a hat and his was a tall, white one with a badge fixed in the middle of the band. A matching badge was fixed on the breast of his jacket, identifying him as the law enforcement of Oasis. One and only, Heather recalled, the one getting hammered with Angie’s father at his garage. He was broad in his shoulders and narrow at the hips, all upper body strength, and even through his collared jacket she could tell his forearms would be impressive. His hair was beginning to gray beneath his hat but the trim beard lining his jaw still bore some color.

He sauntered forward, close enough to her that she could at last read the name on the badge: Rick Glazer, Sheriff. “I heard there was a new city gal in town,” he thundered, the boom of his voice making Heather jump. His expression was unreadable behind his sunglasses. “You must be the one I’m looking for!”

She wanted to collapse into a sobbing wreck. Angie had told, had gone running to Sheriff Rick at the one place she knew he’d be and confessed the whole affair after she refused the kiss. This was her punishment. Mama Maven would call this divine justice. Had they gone to her room first and gone through her things? Did they know who she really was?

Heather backed away instinctively, nearly dropping her pencil and pad as the sheriff’s hands raised up to meet her…only instead of finding a pair of handcuffs hanging there or a loaded firearm, his palm was empty. It was extended in a friendly handshake and his face had cracked into a warm smile. She looked from the offered hand to his grinning face as if the gesture was completely alien to her.

Dumbly, she lifted her hand to his and he snatched it up in a crushing grip. “I heard you were a real beauty but those farm boys don’t nearly do the real thing justice!”

Mama Maven appeared behind Heather, making her jump again. “Sheriff you be nice! Don’t go scaring her. Look! She’s shakin’ like a leaf! Now you let go of her hand and have your seat, I’ll fetch a pot of coffee. Go on, git!”

Maven hustled him away leaving Heather to collect herself and seek refuge in the kitchen. For a long time, she didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or cry. Her legs wobbled beneath her until she had to lean back against the wall, but the trembling only got worse. Her back was slick with a fresh cold sweat. She slapped both palms against her knees, doubling over as though she would vomit until the worst of it passed.

When she did not emerge again right away, Mama came looking for her, a look of concern etched in her wrinkled eyes. “Darlin’, what’s the matter?”

Motherly instincts took over and she hurried to Heather, cupping the tender flesh around lymph nodes to see if they were swollen. “You look peaked! Just white as a sheet! Do you need to go home for the day?”

Heather waved her off, forcing a smile. “No, no! I’m okay, really I am! Just need to get my second wind is… is all.”

It took some convincing, but Mama agreed to allow her to stay and finish out the shift but, “If I feel a smidge of fever on you later, you’re going to get it!”

She couldn’t keep living like this, Heather reasoned. Always looking over her shoulder, wondering if Angie had tattled on her, about what she had done. No, she needed to address the issue head-on. . . . Unfortunately, that meant collecting the courage to actually talk to the girl. She wondered which she was more afraid of: Angie telling someone their secret or being left alone with the child. Could she trust herself to do what needed to be done and put the matter to rest? Worse, she was no closer to finding out what had become of her stolen money. The various patrons had revealed little about themselves to her, and all had seemed genuinely surprised to find a new face about town. So, who did that leave as suspects?

To her dismay, she had not eliminated a single individual. She was far from meeting the entire town, and if they had indeed fled Oasis with her cash in hand…

Heather sighed beneath the weight of so many variables. Angie seemed like the most manageable task at the moment, but even that was a pretty daunting one. After work, she decided with an affirming nod. After work she would seek the girl out and have a sit down, lay out the ground rules like a responsible adult. She would apologize again for her behavior, try to make amends in some way and hopefully walk away friends. It was better than the shaking ground she found herself on now!

Continue on to Chapter 7

By Purple Les

After I had showered and dressed, me and Sammie hung out in the living room playing a game I got for Christmas. I was glad the grownups had left me and Sammie alone. I liked just staying home with her.

We took a break from the game to go outside and work on my snowman, and we had a snowball fight. I hit her right in the butt with a couple, but she nailed me right in the head with one, and we called a truce.

When we came back in we had hot chocolate and drank it while we played the game some more. I was thinking about how I could ask her if she played with herself. I thought if she said yes I could tell her I did too, but I didn’t know what I would do if she lied to me and said she didn’t do it , when I knew she did.

I thanked her for not laughing at my chest like my Aunt Sue and Aunt Billie, and Sammie said, “That’s okay. I think I may have seen something they didn’t. Katy, why don’t you take your shirts off and let me have a closer look.”

“Um, right here in the living room?”

“Sure, no one’s going to see.”

“I don’t know, Sammie, it feels naughty, like Mom would be mad at me.”

“Katy, what’s the last thing your mom said before she left?”

“That she loved me.”

“And…?”

“That I should be good and do whatever you said.”

“That’s right, now take off your shirts for me.”

Well, this was a weird surprise for me, but I pulled my arms out of the sleeves of my shirt and undershirt. Sammie was looking at me like, well I guess like I look at her a lot of times, like kind of horny.

I pulled the shirts off over my head and there I was half naked and she moved her face closer to my chest and said, “Yeah, I think you are just starting maybe.”

Then she touched my tits. Rubbed her fingers on them real lightly and they got hard. I know they are small but they still got hard.

“Is that okay, Katy? Do you like the way it feels?”

“YEAH” I said, way too loud and excited, but my brain didn’t seem to be working right anymore.

“Katy, I was wondering how’d you feel about sitting on my lap, and if you wanted we could kiss and play with each other’s nipples. Would you like to?”

Well, I told her that would be like the coolest thing ever and asked if it would be our secret, ’cause I wouldn’t want any grownups to find out and stop us from doing sexy stuff. Then I told her I didn’t know a lot about kissing.

Sammie assured me it would be our secret and that she’d teach me all about it.

So I got on her lap and got ready to kiss her, and she laughed and said, “Don’t make a face like you just sucked a lemon, just relax.”

Then she pressed her lips against mine. We were kissing right on the mouth like in the movies.

She pulled her face away looked at my tits and touched them some more then kissed me some more. Each kiss was longer than the last, and she rubbed my tits while we kissed. I started to feel her chest too, and then she put her tongue in my mouth. She told me later it’s french kissing and if you never tried it you should, it’s real hot.

After a while I told her it wasn’t fair ’cause she was feeling my tits but I was only touching hers through her shirt. So she started to unbutton her shirt, and then she took off her bra, and it was so cool. Her boobies looked like two big scoops of vanilla ice cream with a big strawberry on each one, and when I touched them, they got hard like mine. We kissed some more and kept feeling each other’s tits.

I felt really sexy, and then without even thinking about it, I asked her if she played with herself.

“Yes, I love to masturbate. Do you do that, Katy? I mean you’re just a kid.”

I told her I had been doing it forever and even told her about that time with the 6th grade girls. She seemed to really like that part.

“Katy, how would you feel about, um, well, if we got naked and masturbated together? Would you like to?”

My answer was to kiss her some more and tell her I would like that more than anything ever.

She stood up and undid her belt and jeans and pulled down her pants and panties. She kicked them off and there she was, bare naked right in front of me, right there in the living room. Her hair down there was as red as the hair on her head, and her skin was white, and not all freckles like it is in the summer time.

She didn’t have hair around her slit, just on top,  and her pussy lips were opening up right in front of my eyes, like a flower, it was so cool.

Sammie walked across the room to make sure the front door was locked, and I wanted to jump up and kiss her behind ’cause it looked so good, but I couldn’t move, my knees felt like rubber or something.

“You’re so beautiful, Sammie!”

It was the only thing I could say as she came back to the couch. She leaned over and kissed me and said she thought I was too.

“You won’t believe this, Katy, but I have wanted to see you naked for a couple years now. That’s how hot I think you are. Now it’s your turn.”

Sammie got on her knees in front of me and undid my pants and then she helped me stand up and yanked down my jeans and long johns and panties all at the same time. She pushed me back down on the couch and pulled all my clothes, including my socks, right off and dropped them on the floor. Then put her hands on my thighs, spread my legs, and looked at my pussy.

As Sammie looked at my pussy, she looked like she was thinking a lot of things. I loved the way she was looking at me there. Then she told me to get up and pick up our clothes. I just gathered them all up in my arms in a big bundle, and Sammie told me to carry them up to my room. She said we were going to get under the covers of my bed together.

I walked up the stairs, but not very fast ’cause it was hard to see the stairs holding all the clothes, and Sammie was behind me, and when I got to the top I stopped and looked over my shoulder and she was staring at my bare ass. She smiled at me and then she gave me these little bites right on my ass, and it felt so neat I just dropped all the clothes on the floor and jumped into bed with Sammie right behind me. The sheets were cold but we got warm fast wiggling around under the covers, ending up with Sammie on her back and me on top of her, and we started kissing again.

Our tongues were going back and forth in each other’s mouths, and I was touching her tits while she was running her fingers all up and down my back and over my ass and down my legs and then back again. That felt so good!

When she ran her fingers up and down my butt crack, I moaned in her mouth. She broke the kiss and said not to pull her tits so hard ’cause they were very sensitive, and I told her I was sorry and kissed them better for her. We both liked that, or at least I know I did, and she sure seemed to.

She had me lie on my back next to her, though I was sort of lying on her too ’cause there wasn’t much room in the bed. She lifted the covers up some so we could see each other. She started to play with her pussy and told me to play with mine too. That was so cool, we were really rubbing off together.

Then she took my hand and put it on her pussy with her hand over it, and she started to move my hand on her. Then she put her other hand on my pussy and started playing with it.

Hers was so wet that my fingers just slid inside her like they knew where to go or something. Sammie put my fingers and hand where she wanted them, and got me moving my hand the way she wanted and said, “Good, yeah, keep doing that.”

Her fingers on my pussy felt so neat. No one else had ever touched me there, and it was like a million times better than touching myself.

I tried to keep my hand moving like she wanted on her pussy, but with the way she was touching me I couldn’t focus. Then I grabbed her arm and my knees came up and I said, “I love you Sammie!” and then I came so hard I couldn’t lay still. My toes went numb, and my legs stuck straight out and I turned over against her and had her hand locked between my legs. I felt like I had died and gone to heaven.

The next thing I knew I was lying there touching her tits and telling her how much I loved her, but I was all out of breath. She was feeling my ass and telling me how much she loved me too.

After I had sort of come back to my senses, I told her I wanted to try something I’d read about, and would she please let me. She was like, I guess so, and I told her if she didn’t like it I would stop.

Well, I got under the covers, and she held them up a little so she could see me. I was laying on my tummy between her legs, looking at and sort of touching her pussy. Just doing that made me have to rub myself against the bed some.

I had been reading a lot of stories about licking pussy, and I had even been exchanging e-mails with a couple grown up women. One of them had told me how to lick pussy. So I really wanted to try it so bad, and I really wanted to try and make Sammie come real good like I had.

I started by touching her pussy a little. Then I kissed her thighs back and forth going higher up with each kiss. Finally, I licked around her pussy lips some. There was this white stuff on them and I kept trying to lick it off but it kept coming back.

Then I found her clit and I kissed it real soft. The woman who e-mailed me how to lick pussy told me to try the ABC’s, and what that meant was to lick the clit by doing the letters of the alphabet with your tongue on it, all in capitals. So I started with ‘A’. I did each letter a few times.

Sammie said I didn’t have to do what I was doing, that I could stop if I didn’t want to keep doing it, but I told her I didn’t want to stop, that I really wanted to do this. I went back to it and was up to ‘D’ when she said, “Okay, if you really want to.” I knew then that she was really liking it.

When I got to ‘G’ she put her knees up in the air and spread her legs wider and put her hands on the back of my head.

While I was doing this I was still rubbing my pussy against the bed and Sammie said, “I love your ass, Katy. I love seeing it wiggle around.”

At ‘L’ she said, “Oh fuck! Don’t stop, don’t stop!”

At ‘P’ I stuck a finger inside her pussy, and her pussy kind of grabbed my finger as I moved it in and out, and when I got to ‘Q’ she came. She had it real hard and I was so happy I made her come.

I started on ‘R’ but she pushed my head back and told me to stop, saying it was so good she couldn’t take anymore. She had me move back up and lie on her and she kissed me more, even though she had just come on my face. She had her hands all over my ass, too. Then she calmed down and we just lay there together, saying stuff that was so silly I won’t make you sick by telling you, but it was very lovey-dovey and mushy, and even though it was so stupid we meant every word of it.

We was just lying in bed together, sort of dozing, when the phone rang. Sammie jumped out of bed and ran downstairs bare naked to answer it.

It was my mom, and Sammie yelled up the stairs, “Katy, your mom is picking up Chinese food to bring home later. She wants to know it you want your usual or something else.”

I yelled back I wanted the usual. My friend, Mary’s parents run the Chinese restaurant, even though her parents are from Vietnam, not China. Anyway, they always give Mom extra food cause me and Mary are best friends.

Sammie came back up. Getting back in bed, she said, “The grownups will be home in a couple hours so we can still rest.”

I told her I couldn’t believe she went running around the house bare naked. I said, “What if  it wasn’t my mom on the phone and she had walked in and found you naked?”

Well, I couldn’t believe what Sammie said. “So what if she had, Katy? I bet she wouldn’t mind seeing me naked. I mean she must see you naked all the time, right?”

“Well, no, we never see each other naked. I haven’t been naked in front of Mom since I was little.”

“That’s too bad ’cause you look great naked, and your mom is good looking too. I wouldn’t mind seeing her naked. Don’t you think your mom is pretty, Katy?”

“Well, yeah, but I can’t just walk up and say, ‘hey, Mom, let me see you naked,’ can I?”

“Whenever my dad is away on business we all go naked around the house,” Sammie said.

Well that bit of information just blew me away. I didn’t know if Sammie was telling me the truth or just being dirty for fun, so I asked her if that was for real.

“Katy, ever since a few years ago, when Dad isn’t home — ’cause he doesn’t like it, so it’s our secret from him — me and Mom and Penny all go around naked. It’s fun.”

“Golly, Sammie, that’s… I don’t know… so cool! I can’t believe it. I could never do that.”

“Why not?”

“Well, because if I ever saw your mom and Penny and you bare naked, I’d… well I’d have to play with myself.”

Sammie smiled at me. She put her hand over my pussy and said, “That’s okay, we do too.”

“Um, you’re just making this up to get me all horny again, aren’t you?”

Sammie just kissed me instead of saying anything, so I really wondered about it. But either way we got real horny and played with each other’s pussies till we both came again.

Then we cleaned up and got dressed ’cause the grownups would be home soon with the food.

Continue on to Chapter 3