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The Evil That Men Do, Chapter 18

  • Posted on May 25, 2026 at 2:18 pm

The Story Thus Far

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter Twelve: A sleepover is in progress at Terry’s place while he is out. When the girls retire to their rooms, Halee phones her girlfriend Bethany and puts her on speaker to hear her younger sister Naomi and Chelsey going at it through their adjoining walls, and a good time is had by all. Upon returning home, Terry does some work on an idea for a new novel after months of inaction. Mallory is still unsure what to do with the family farm, and Nettie runs some ideas about the recent kidnapping case past Agent Ramscone.

Chapter Thirteen: Four members of the Pussy Posse — Mallory, Julie, Jamie, and Emma — are spending quality time together, along with Julie’s younger sister Vicky. News, gossip, memories, and innuendo are bandied about. Vicky hesitantly speaks of a recent sleepover where she overheard a couple of the girls saying hurtful things about her, an incident that still stings badly. The four women offer her comfort and understanding, which soon becomes something more.

Chapter Fourteen: Mallory, Julie, Jamie, Emma and Julie’s younger sister Vicky are having a barbecue and sleepover. Vicky loves hanging out with the Pussy Posse, but feels a little self-conscious, knowing that the women will very likely be having group sex later that evening. But Julie boldly her sister to join the sapphic festivities. Vicky is hesitant at first, especially at the prospect of coupling with her older sibling, but Julie manages to put her at ease. The four women and one teen adjourn for the master bedroom. Clothes are removed, bare bodies mingle, pleasure is shared.

Chapter Fifteen: Halee and her new girlfriend Bethany (daughter of Nettie’s lover Hannah), spend time roaming the town, getting to know one another better. Later on, they spend time together in a more intimate way. Meanwhile, Mallory and her partner Julie get a piece of surprising, potentially life-changing news.

Chapter Sixteen: Mallory is pregnant, and Terry Wilder is the father. She visits Bronning to give him the news, then they join Julie at Nettie’s place to discuss the situation. Terry chooses to leave the final decision in Mallory’s hands, but makes it clear that he is willing to raise the child as his own if Mal doesn’t want to be a mother.

Chapter Seventeen: Nettie pays a visit to the trailer park to visit Gina and Heather, the two girls she saved from a mysterious kidnapper. Still grappling with distant memories of her own kidnapping, she shows the girls a mugshot of Jacob Brentshaw, who was convicted of abducting her and murdering her twin sister Anna years earlier, but they tell her it isn’t the same man, despite disturbing similarities. Afterward, she gets an angry call from FBI agent Latisha Miller, who already knows about this visit to the girls. Nettie admits to pursuing this all-but-closed case, but refuses to back off. Against her better judgment, Agent Miller is coming around to allowing Nettie to continue her investigation. Meanwhile, Mallory, Julie and Terry visit a doctor to discuss Mal’s unexpected pregnancy.

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

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

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

by Rachael Yukey

Breakin’ the chains around me
Nobody else can bind me
Take a good look around me
Now I’m breakin’ the chains.
Dokken, 1983

“I don’t like it,” Bridgett Ramscone was saying. Her face was tiled next to that of Latisha Miller on Nettie’s laptop screen. “More to the point, my bosses would never sanction this. Neither would yours, Tisha, and you know it.”

Nettie shrugged. “So if shit gets real, you disavow me. ‘She did what? I told her to keep her nose out of it’. Plausible deniability on your end. And I’ll go along with it.”

“It isn’t just about that,” Bridgett insisted. “Let’s say you start poking around, and actually stir something up. You’ll become a target, and we have no way to provide protection.”

“I’m willing to take that chance.”

Bridgett’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe I’m not.”

Despite the tension, Nettie had to smile. “It’s sweet that you’re worried about me.”

“I worry about all my agents,” Bridgett retorted, a hard edge to her voice. “I don’t like sending them into dangerous situations under the best of circumstances, and this is hardly that. For God’s sake, Nettie, you’re not trained for this. Have you ever even fired a handgun?”

Nettie’s expression became wry. “I took a yip at a couple of tin cans with one of my dad’s revolvers when I was fourteen.”

Bridgett rolled her eyes. “Bet you missed, too. See what I’m getting at? You’ll be putting yourself in a position where you might have to protect yourself, and you’re neither trained or equipped to do so. Look—I’m sorry, but I can’t get behind this. It’s simply too risky. Tell her, Tisha.”

Agent Miller laced both hands behind her head. “I’m torn, if we’re being honest. I mean, you’re right, this could backfire pretty badly if Nettie is actually onto something, and neither of us wants that on our conscience, even if we could avoid being held officially responsible. On the other hand—”

Unlacing her hands, she placed them on her desk and leaned forward. “In order to pursue this, I’d have to divert attention from much more immediate cases, and I’ll never be able to justify it. Which sucks, because I think it might just be valid. It’s worth a certain amount of risk to prevent this fuckstick from kidnapping and probably killing any more little girls. I honestly don’t know what the best answer is.”

Bridgett rolled her eyes. “You don’t have anybody who could devote a couple of afternoons—”

“No, damn it, I don’t. I’m supervising two current kidnapping cases with actual missing persons at the moment, as well as maintaining the follow-up operation in Virginia. Add to that the fact that two members of my team are on leave right now. The moment the Dulcey girls were located and the perp slipped through our fingers, this case was added to a very long list, and it’s nowhere near the top.”

“Jesus Christ.” Bridgett growled, drumming her fingers on her desk. “I still—no. No. A minimal chance of tracking this guy down is not worth the risk of Nettie being unpersoned. And you know damn well it’s a risk.”

Nettie’s eyes dropped to her desktop as she fought a brief internal battle. Then she looked back to the screen, a new determination in the set of her jaw. “Tell you what…”

Bridgett cocked her head. “What?”

“You let me do this, give me as much guidance and support as you can get leeway for, and—and you win, Bridgett. I put in my notice at Thormleton, and go into training for investigations. Green-light this, and you get me.”

Bridgett rocked back in her chair. “Is this really what you want, or are you that desperate to pursue this?”

Nettie let out a single laugh. “A little of both, actually. I’ve already been thinking it’s something I have to try, at least for a while. It probably would have happened anyway, just maybe not this soon. One thing, though.”

Bridgett cocked her head. “Yes?”

“If I have my pick of investigative agencies—”

“You do, honey,” Miller broke in.

“Then I’m not sure the DEA is right for me. I give you my word that I’ll try it first, though.”

Bridgett sighed. “Look, Nettie—”

“I’m going after him, Bridgett. I’m doing it with or without your blessing. Give me some help.”

Bridgett stared at her hands for a long moment, then looked up at the screen. “What’s your plan?”

“I’m gonna go down to Iowa and visit his youngest sister, Melissa. She lives in Cedar Rapids.”

Miller frowned. “I don’t get it.”

“I don’t either,” said Bridgett. “I mean—why her, in particular? I seem to recall she was a whole hell of lot younger then Jacob—”

“Sixteen year age gap,” Nettie broke in.

Bridgett inclined her head. “Right. She’d still have been in high school when he was convicted. She’s the least likely to have been involved.”

“That’s the point,” said Nettie. “She’s way younger than his other siblings, and she’s their exact opposite in every single regard. She has a successful career, and owns a home in a nice suburb. Literally the whole rest of the family is white trash, and most of them have been in legal trouble. I doubt there’s much love lost between her and the folks back home.”

“I still don’t get why you want to talk to her first,” Miller interjected.

“Because,” said Nettie, “the odds of her having been involved in any way are slim going on nil, so there’s a decent chance I can question her without raising any alarms. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that she keeps the rest of the family at arm’s length. But anyway—”

She paused, marshalling her thoughts. “Even if it turns out she’s completely estranged, she grew up with those people, and she can probably give me all kinds of insight into the family dynamic. She’ll know about the skeletons in the closet; anything from who got caught cheating at cards to who knocked up his brother’s wife. Where the tensions are, where the safe spaces are, who’s especially chummy with who. Who hates whose guts. What I’ll be doing with her is fishing to know which direction to go in next. Because right now I don’t have a friggin’ clue.”

There was a brief silence. “Goddamn,” said Bridgett, stroking her chin.

“Yeah, said Latisha. “I totally missed that angle; not gonna lie.”

“I figure it like this,” said Nettie. “If Brentshaw was working alone, or with unrelated accomplices, Mellissa probably won’t have information I can use. But if there were relatives involved, it’s very possible she’s sitting on clues as to who. Maybe even likely.”

“If there even was an accomplice, unrelated is way more likely,” said Latisha, “we’ve covered that.”

“Except you don’t think so, Nettie,” said Bridgett. “Why?”

Nettie gave that a moment’s thought; she wasn’t entirely clear on the point herself. “It’s partly a hunch,” she admitted. “But it’s mostly because even though there are discrepancies, the perp in the Dulcey kidnapping looks way too much like Brentshaw for comfort. I don’t believe for a second it’s a coincidence.”

“Neither do I,” said Latisha, “or we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“I honestly don’t know what to think about that,” said Bridgett, “except that the original problem still stands. It’s sketchy enough that there’s no way Tisha would be able to justify devoting official resources to pursuing it. Brentshaw is dead, and he had no close male relatives that would be anywhere near the right age. An investigation of his family would be seen by the upper brass as completely unwarranted.”

“I agree,” said Latisha, “Which makes Nettie just about the only tool we have. But your concerns are also valid, Bridgett. Damned if I know how to play this.”

Bridgett heaved a sigh. “Nettie—your initial plan seems safe enough. I’ll go along with this cockamamie notion, give you what support and guidance I can, with the proviso that you stay in frequent contact with Latisha and myself. Plausible deniability or not, we’re both going out on a limb here, not to mention that I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to you. Slow and careful, and with constant communication. The three of us agree on every step of the process, or this investigation of yours gets shut down tout suite. Are we clear?”

“Crystal clear. So—when should I put in my notice?” said Nettie.

“You really are serious,” said Latisha.

“Bet your ass I am.”

Bridgett pursed her lips. “So long as we’re collaborators in—in whatever the fuck this is, it might be better for you to stay where you’re at for the moment.”

“I second that,” said Latisha. “Conducting an unofficial, unsanctioned investigation is bad enough—but getting popped for something like that when you’re an agent trainee? Believe me, that’s one complication you absolutely do not need.”

Nettie gave a thoughtful nod. “Works for me. I’ll try to contact Melissa Brentshaw tomorrow, arrange a meeting.”

“All right,” said Bridgett. “Nettie—promise me you’ll be careful. If something smells wrong, bail, and get in touch with us immediately.”

“Don’t worry, Mother. I’ll be a good girl.”

Bridgett’s jaw tightened. “I’m serious, Nettie. Because you could have it completely wrong. Just because Melissa Brentshaw’s broken out of the family’s usual holding pattern doesn’t mean she hates their guts. She might be fiercely protective of them, even if they aren’t on speaking terms. Be on your guard—and for the love of god do not let on that you’re one of her brother’s victims.”

“Come on, Bridgett—I’m not a complete idiot,” said Nettie, rolling her eyes.

“Hey, you’re the one who called me ‘Mother’. That’s what moms do best—give unwanted advice.”

“All right, ladies, we’re done here,” Latisha interjected, her tone betraying a hint of impatience. “Nettie, keep us informed, don’t do anything stupid, and watch your ass. I have to get to another meeting.”

“Later, then,” said Nettie. She killed the connection.

***

Nettie closed the door to her dad’s old pool room, laptop tucked under her arm, mind working overtime to plan out what she would say to Melissa Brentshaw when she made the phone call tomorrow.

The voices of Julie, Mallory, and Terry floated in from the living room, punctuated by a burst of laughter. Nettie was relieved to hear it. There were a thousand different ways a situation like the one her guests faced could go sour, but thus far they seemed to be amicably getting to know each other. A little less tense than she’d been a few minutes earlier, she made her way down the hall.

The hallway brought her to the living room, where Julie and Mallory were sitting close together on the love seat, with Terry ensconced in one of the recliners. They all glanced up at her approach. Just as she was crossing into the room, about to speak, the doorbell rang.

Setting her laptop on an end table, Nettie made her way to the entryway. Pulling the door open, she blinked in surprise. Hannah stood on the threshold, hair loose around the shoulders of a powder blue long-sleeved blouse. The jeans she was wearing outlined her hips in a most delightful manner.

Nettie pulled her lover close, leaning down to kiss her. Hannah returned the kiss with considerable ardor.

“From this moment forward,” said Nettie as she guided Hannah into the living room, “you are not to ring my doorbell ever again. We’ve already exchanged keys, so for God’s sake just come in.”

Hannah’s smile turned mischievous. “Just wanted to be sure I wasn’t busting up a sex party. Hi, everyone.” She gave a little wave to the room in general.

“Hannah,” said Terry. “Always a pleasure.”

“Hi!” said Julie. Mallory gave a smile and a wave. Nettie and Hannah made their way to the couch and sat, settling into each other’s arms.

“Not that I’m complaining, but I wasn’t expecting to see you till dinner,” said Nettie.

“That was the plan,” said Hannah, “but we had a canceled surgery, so I decided to duck out early since I knew it was kind of a party here this afternoon. Hope I’m not barging in, but—”

“Away with that,” Julie replied, making a dismissive gesture. “You officially joined the sisterhood on the fishing trip, with full membership privileges. Seriously, we’re glad you came.”

“I dropped Bethany off at your house,” said Hannah, eyes flicking in Terry’s direction. “She was dying to see Halee. Hope that’s not a problem.”

“None whatsoever,” said Terry. “Save for the fact that the estrogen level in my house is dangerously high at the best of times. Much more, and it may become toxic for me to enter.”

Nettie snickered. “It’s nobody’s fault but your own that you only make girls.”

“Well,” said Mallory “that remains to be seen, doesn’t it—?” She ran a hand across her belly.

Hannah’s eyes narrowed. “Ummm—are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“Yep,” said Mallory, “I got a little more than I bargained for last time I was here.”

“So—” Hannah peered at Mallory, her expression tentative. “Are congratulations appropriate at the moment?”

Mallory glanced down at her hands, then back up, a look of wonder spreading across her face. “Yes,” she replied, sounding a little dazed. Tears spilled onto her cheeks, but her mouth widened into a radiant smile. “Hell, yes! I didn’t—I didn’t even realize it till right this minute, but y-yeah. Con—congratulations for days.”

Julie pulled Mallory close. Hannah got up and crossed the room, standing before them. “Well then, congratulations, Mallory. May I?” She extended her arms. Mallory stood, stepped into her embrace, and squeezed tightly.

Hannah beckoned to Julie with one finger of a hand that was firmly clamped firmly to Mallory’s shoulder blade. “Get up here, you.” Grinning, Julie rose to her feet and wrapped her arms around the two of them.

“Dad; Auntie, you get in here, too,” said Hannah. “One big motherfucker of a hug.”

Terry and Nettie shared an amused glance, then got up and crossed the room.

***

“Holy cow. I am—I’m having tremendous difficulty wrapping my brain around this.” Halee shook her head in a vain attempt to clear it.

She was seated between Bethany and Mallory at a circular table set for seven at Searing Sadie’s, widely acknowledged to be the classiest restaurant in Johnstown. Her eyes were on her father, who sat across the table from her, flanked by Nettie on his right and Julie to the left.

Turning toward Mallory, who was sitting next to her on the right, Halee opened her mouth, then closed it again.

“It’s okay,” the petite blonde assured her. She reached out tentatively to Halee’s hand on the tabletop, touched it lightly with her fingertips, then clasped it firmly when the girl offered no resistance. Halee, who’d been a little disappointed when Mallory had gone off with her dad instead of joining the sapphic group activities a month before, felt a thrill course through her at the touch.

“You can say whatever’s on your mind,” Mallory was saying. “I know this has to be kind of a shock.”

Halee found her voice. “Even more so for you, I imagine.”

Mallory chuckled. “Just a little bit. Getting pregnant was not on my agenda for the summer. But I’ve had a couple of days to get used to the idea.” She squeezed Halee’s hand. “Seriously: I’m carrying your brother or sister, and I’ve already decided to have the baby. It’s going to be important for us to get to know each other. Whatever you’re thinking, go ahead and speak up. We’ll deal with it.”

Halee blew out her breath. Grinning shyly, she said, “Honestly, I was just going to say I’m glad it’s you and not some bimbo like Theresa Fosse.”

Nettie and Hannah both burst out laughing. Terry lowered his head, put his hand over his eyes, and gave a low chuckle. Mallory threw him a bemused look. “Do I even want to know?”

Dropping his hand, Terry met her gaze, his expression wry. “Probably not. Let’s just say that the last time I was at the lady in question’s house, I abandoned ship with my mission incomplete. Most of my romantic history is characterized by two factors: an affinity for a pretty face, and an appalling lack of judgement.”

Nettie smacked his shoulder, backhand. “Thanks, asshole.”

Terry raised his hands in a defensive pose. “I said most, not all. Present company obviously excluded.”

“Too late,” said Mallory, a smirk on her face. “Can’t backpedal on us now. I’m officially taking offense.”

Halee waved her free hand at her father. “Oh my God, Dad. You shouldn’t be allowed to speak, ever. Anyway—” She turned to look at Mallory again. “It’s a shock, is all. I knew you’d hooked up with my father, but you never think something like this is actually going to take place. Until it does, I guess.”

Julie shrugged. “Welcome to life. You never think it’s gonna happen—until it does.”

“Says the chick who has a plan for literally everything,” said Mallory with a shake of her head.

The waitress chose that moment to appear with their drinks. “You folks ready to order?”

“I think we’ll need a few more minutes,” said Julie.

Turning her attention to the menu, Halee took the first sip of her iced tea. Then a thought struck her.

“My only question for the moment,” she said, eyes continuing to rove the selections, “is how the two of you are going to work this out.” She turned her head towards Mallory, who was sampling her lemonade. “You know, for custody. Visitation. That sort of thing. You live in Colorado. It’s a long way from here.”

“Questions of that nature,” said Terry, “are why only you are here this evening, and not your younger sisters. I may or may not have a quiet conversation with Naomi over the next few days—I haven’t had time to think it through. But my preference at the moment is for the younger ones to remain in the dark until we’ve taken the time to explore the options, and have at least tentative answers. You—”

He took a sip of his tea, then shrugged elaborately. “You’re old enough to process the situation with some level of rationality, and to understand that we haven’t made all of our choices yet. Besides, you move enough amongst the adults that I don’t see how I could possibly keep it from you. So I thought you and Bethany could and probably should join us for dinner, and you can at least become better acquainted with Julie and Mallory.”

“Julie I got to know a bit more last month,” said Halee. “You know, after you two left.”

Bethany, who had heard the story of that encounter in considerable detail, put a hand over her mouth to hide her smile. Julie wore a smirk as well.

Terry raised an eyebrow. “Indeed, I suspect that your knowledge of one another increased exponentially within minutes of our departure.”

Hannah’s mouth fell open. Nettie rubbed her eyes, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. Julie was looking from Terry to Halee and back again, uncertainly.

Terry made an impatient gesture. “Can we drop the pretense, please? I knew what was going to take place after Mallory and I left, everyone who was there knew that I knew, and if I’d had any problem with it, Halee would most certainly not have been allowed to remain. My oldest is more mature than most adults I know, and such maturity carries both the ability and the right to make her own choices in matters of consent. So let’s stipulate from this moment forward that I have no interest in who’s doing what to whom or with what body parts, and we can all stop playacting at being furtive.”

Hannah’s face split into a wide grin. “Count on Terry to cut through the bullshit. I love it.”

***

“That’s a really weird looking field,” said Bethany, looking out the driver’s side rear window at a close-cropped expanse of growth, with neat, thick rows of freshly cut hay lying on the ground. “It’s like someone mowed really tall grass and raked it all into rows.”

Mallory, perched in the shotgun seat of the Buick SUV, chuckled. “It’s alfalfa,” she said. “You cut it down with a haybine or a swather, and the machine leaves it in those rows—they’re called windrows, by the way. Then you either chop it into silage, or let it dry down a little and bale it into hay. This guy must be planning to bale, or they’d already be doing the chopping.”

Halee, seated behind Mallory, nodded in Bethany’s direction. “We tried luring those cows close to the fence with some alfalfa last week, remember? I only know what it is because I go to school with a couple of kids who live on farms. You pick that kind of stuff up.”

By then, the alfalfa field had given way to a stand of pines. As the SUV crested a hill, the pines were replaced by an expanse of bright green, dotted here and there with purple flowers. It looked to be almost knee-high.

“And there’s some alfalfa that hasn’t been cut down yet,” said Mallory, gesturing in that general direction. “Getting a little overgrown, too.”

“How can you tell it’s overgrown?” asked Halee.

“Partly just because of the height,” said Mallory, “but also because it’s flowering.”

Bethany was nodding slowly. “So that’s what you feed cows, huh?”

“Yup. This time of year they’ll be doing the second cutting. You get at least two over the course of a summer, three in a good year. More if you’re further south. Ideally you want to cut it before it starts flowering because when it matures to that point, you lose nutrition. Not too big a deal for beef cattle or horses, but every little bit counts for a dairy herd.”

“Did you have cows growing up?” Bethany wanted to know.

Mallory shook her head. “Nope. Our place started off as a dairy farm, but my grandpa switched to cash grain not long before he had his stroke. After that, my dad took over. It all happened before I was even born. I don’t remember ever having animals on the place.”

“You still seem to know a good deal about it, though,” Halee pointed out.

“She has cattle envy,” Julie put in from the driver’s seat.

Mallory swatted her partner playfully on the arm. “When I was little I wanted cows, sure. I had a friend in elementary school who lived on a dairy farm, and I used to love petting the calves. When I got a little older, I wanted a horse in the worst way. Dad sure shut that down in a hurry,” she said with a laugh.

“He bought her a go-cart instead,” said Julie, a touch of laughter in her own voice.

Mallory giggled. “Yep. He said I could ride that all day for way less than it’d cost to feed a horse. But actually, the go-kart turned out to be a lot of fun. Julie’s dad got her one, and we used to race them in the driveway and on Dad’s machinery paths.”

“The big loop that leads to the machine shed was the best,” said Julie. “We always talked about laying out a racetrack in the old pasture, but never got around to it.”

Mallory craned her neck to look at the two girls in the back seat. “To answer your question, there’s a lot of stuff I picked up just because we knew other farm families. But also, me and Julie used to make money doing fieldwork when we were in high school, and over summer break when we were home from college. We worked for Dad during planting and harvest, but there isn’t a lot to do on a grain farm between those times. So we’d work for other farmers.”

“True story,” said Julie. “Both of us have cut, chopped, and baled a shitload of alfalfa hay. Mostly working for this guy named Ron Mesegow.”

“Wild,” said Bethany. “That sounds like the kind of work you’d mostly picture men doing.”

Mallory shrugged. “It’s true—you didn’t see a lot of girls picking up jobs like that. But as long as everything was working right, it wasn’t particularly grungy or heavy work. You just kind of rode back and forth on a tractor. Most of them even had air conditioned cabs.”

“You did have to know how to use tools, and not be afraid to get your hands dirty,” said Julie, “because stuff did go wrong, and lots of times it was something simple that would only take a couple minutes to fix in the field. Like if you were cutting hay and you broke a sickle section—no farmer is going to hire someone who comes running for help every time they bust one of those little fuckers. But it wasn’t a big deal, unless you’re hung up on traditional roles, or think it’s not ladylike to get grease under your fingernails.”

“I suppose your job is a little like that,” said Halee. “The engineering thing. I don’t think a lot of chicks go in for that, do they?”

Julie shook her head. “Fifty-three people started out as engineering majors at U of M St. Paul my freshman year,” she replied. “Seven were female, and only two of us graduated.”

“And now you’re kind of a boss, right?”

Julie chuckled. “Project lead.”

“That’s awesome,” said Bethany.

“You have to find your own path,” said Mallory. “To hell with what people say you can or can’t do, or what’s right for your gender or whatever. You do you—isn’t that what people say these days?”

“That happens sometimes, but I’d rather do her instead,” Bethany said primly, jerking her thumb in Halee’s direction.

Everyone cracked up. After Halee had gotten over her initial shock upon learning of her impending new sibling, dinner had been an enjoyable, relaxed affair. Halee was already feeling a little bummed that Mallory and Julie lived so far afield. She’d been the one to ask whether she and Bethany could ride back to Bronning with them, rather than stacking five deep in a vehicle with Nettie, Hannah, And Terry.

“Well, you’ll get the chance tonight,” said Julie, still chuckling.

Halee sobered. “Can I ask you guys something kind of personal?”

Mallory craned her neck around to peer into the backseat. “Fire away.”

“That night I stayed at Nettie’s house, and you,” she waved her hand at Mallory, “went with Dad and, you know—”

“Got knocked up?” said Mallory with the slightest hint of a smile.

Halee grinned back. “Right, that. Anyway—I was telling Bethany about some of the things we talked about before you took off. You know, how you and Julie kind of, um, have an open thing where you mostly do hookups together, except for special cases. We think it sounds really cool, but were wondering if it, well, ever causes problems.”

There was a long silence from the front seat. It was Julie who finally replied. “It’s always worked out fine for us. No jealousy, no bitterness. But we’ve seen it blow up for people, too. You have to have the right headspace, I think. We’ve always been clear on where we stood with each other, and the other stuff—it’s just sharing pleasure, you know? Neither of us sees sex as some kind of holy sacrament. We’re not terribly philosophical about it, and I don’t think either of us gives it a ton of thought. We’re innocent hedonists.” She chuckled.

“So—” Bethany mused, “it’s kind of about what sex means to you.”

“I think so,” said Mallory. “If you’re the kind of person who sees sex as the ultimate way to achieve meaningful closeness with a soul mate, a polyamorous situation might not be a great idea. I mean—an orgasm does make you feel super close to whoever you’re with. But it’s kind of transitory, too. It’s nothing like the really deep, long-lasting connection I have with Julie. Not even close. We’re talking two entirely different things.”

“So you two are thinking you might want to go down that road?” said Julie.

“We’ve discussed it,” said Halee. “because we both still get hot for other girls. And women.”

As Julie rounded a bend, the outskirts of Bronning came into view. To the left, the sun was just beginning to set over the town. A few hundred yards ahead, Terry’s Honda was signaling a turn in that direction. Julie tapped the brakes, letting the Buick coast down.

“First, you have to work out how you view the experience of physical intimacy ,” said Mallory. “It’s different for everybody.”

“I think I’m kind of like you guys,” said Halee. “An arrangement like yours could work for me.” She looked to her girlfriend; took her hand. “But if you feel otherwise, Bethany—then I’m all yours. Only yours.”

“Aw, thanks,” a smiling Bethany replied, giving Halee’s hand a squeeze.

“That’s actually a really important part of making polyamory work,” said Mallory as Julie took a left turn, accelerating past the scattering of houses that marked the edge of town. “Any agreements you make, stick to them. Julie and I, we always do stuff together, unless we decide otherwise. So if I’m with someone we haven’t talked about in advance—no matter how much I might want to have sex with that person—it doesn’t happen. There has to be trust. Remember that.”

“I’m the same way, I think,” Bethany declared. “Pretty sure of it, actually. What do you say, Halee? We can do things with other people, but only when we’re together?”

Halee leaned forward, smoothing Mallory’s silky blonde hair with gentle fingertips. “I agree completely.  And on that note, ladies—do the two of you have any plans for the evening?”

Mallory twisted in her seat to meet Halee’s gaze, giving the teen a look of astonishment that relaxed into a delighted smile.

On to Chapter Nineteen!

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The Evil That Men Do, Chapter 17

  • Posted on May 8, 2026 at 2:26 pm

The Story Thus Far

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter Twelve: A sleepover is in progress at Terry’s place while he is out. When the girls retire to their rooms, Halee phones her girlfriend Bethany and puts her on speaker to hear her younger sister Naomi and Chelsey going at it through their adjoining walls, and a good time is had by all. Upon returning home, Terry does some work on an idea for a new novel after months of inaction. Mallory is still unsure what to do with the family farm, and Nettie runs some ideas about the recent kidnapping case past Agent Ramscone.

Chapter Thirteen: Four members of the Pussy Posse — Mallory, Julie, Jamie, and Emma — are spending quality time together, along with Julie’s younger sister Vicky. News, gossip, memories, and innuendo are bandied about. Vicky hesitantly speaks of a recent sleepover where she overheard a couple of the girls saying hurtful things about her, an incident that still stings badly. The four women offer her comfort and understanding, which soon becomes something more.

Chapter Fourteen: Mallory, Julie, Jamie, Emma and Julie’s younger sister Vicky are having a barbecue and sleepover. Vicky loves hanging out with the Pussy Posse, but feels a little self-conscious, knowing that the women will very likely be having group sex later that evening. But Julie boldly her sister to join the sapphic festivities. Vicky is hesitant at first, especially at the prospect of coupling with her older sibling, but Julie manages to put her at ease. The four women and one teen adjourn for the master bedroom. Clothes are removed, bare bodies mingle, pleasure is shared.

Chapter Fifteen: Halee and her new girlfriend Bethany (daughter of Nettie’s lover Hannah), spend time roaming the town, getting to know one another better. Later on, they spend time together in a more intimate way. Meanwhile, Mallory and her partner Julie get a piece of surprising, potentially life-changing news.

Chapter Sixteen: Mallory is pregnant, and Terry Wilder is the father. She visits Bronning to give him the news, then they join Julie at Nettie’s place to discuss the situation. Terry chooses to leave the final decision in Mallory’s hands, but makes it clear that he is willing to raise the child as his own if Mal doesn’t want to be a mother.

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

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

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

by Rachael Yukey

One more to count in
Wake up the mountain
All colour’s slowly turning to grey
Our world is darkening
Wake up the mountain
And we will find it once more again
Helloween, 1996

“Nettie! Nettie, WAKE UP!” 

Nettie doesn’t want to wake up. It’s so cold, yet every breath she draws is flame. The last time she coughed, blood came up. There’s a bizarre floating sensation, like she’s on a boat, gently rocking back and forth with the swell of the waves. 

She becomes aware of Anna’s hands on her torn, filthy pajama top, and realizes the rocking motion is her sister trying to shake her into something resembling consciousness.

“Nettie!” Anna hisses in her ear. “A car just pulled up outside. If you’re asleep when he comes in, he’ll hit you till you wake up, just like last time. Nettie, come ON!” 

As the fog shrouding her mind gradually dissipates, Nettie becomes aware of an engine rumbling outside. It cuts off abruptly, followed by the sound of a car door slamming shut. Then another. Then HIS voice filters through the moldy walls, saying something too muffled to catch. 

“We’re running out of time, you know,” a female voice replies. Muffled though it is, this voice is closer, louder, just barely intelligible. 

Creepface speaks again, and although Nettie strains to hear, she still can’t quite make out his words. 

“I know that,” says the woman’s voice. “But we’ve got other problems, too. I didn’t expect Jacob to hang around as long as he has—I think he’s getting curious. We’re gonna have to figure out—”

The voice is now echoing as if from the depths of a well, a well from which Nettie is bizarrely falling up from the bottom, instead of down from the top. In some dim part of her mind, Nettie realizes it isn’t the woman outside who has changed, but her own perception. She’s drifting away again. 

She tries desperately to reverse course, to dive back down into the well, because that’s where Anna is, that’s where sanity lies, where…

“Nettie, please!” Anna screams. “WAKE UP!”

Nettie sat bolt upright, gripping the steering wheel with both hands, knuckles white and trembling from head to toe. Her Kia was idling in the side parking lot of a rundown convenience store about eight miles shy of the Forbes Mobile Home Park. She’d decided to stop for a bathroom break and a quick bite before presenting herself at the Dulcey residence, but had apparently closed her eyes and fallen into a light doze the moment she’d put her car in park. Small wonder; she’d slept badly the night before. A glance at the dashboard clock revealed that she’d been sitting there for a little over fifteen minutes.

“Fuck,” she mumbled.

The dream had been vivid, powerful, and was still sharp and clear in her mind. Was it truly just a dream, or perhaps a flash of suppressed memory elbowing its way to the forefront? She had no way to know.

Then Nettie realized that she did. That bit about Jacob being curious was the tell-tale. Because the monster, the man she and Anna had dubbed Creepface, the one who had gone to prison for their kidnapping and her sister’s murder, was Jacob. Even if this was a memory, it was an inaccurate one, distorted by the haze of fever.

She closed her eyes, trying to focus on the images that lingered in her head. If there was any scrap of truth to be had here, she wanted to find it and pin it down. Anna’s face seemed to loom before hers. Sweet, beautiful, doomed Anna, staring into her eyes, and from there down into her soul. Trust yourself, Nettie, and for this one moment she could fucking hear Anna, her subconscious insisting that this really was the voice of her lost sister. Trust your memories. Let them guide you.

Thoroughly shaken, Nettie opened her eyes, squinting a bit as the sun emerged from behind the clouds to glare through her windshield. She shook herself, trying to lighten her mood by comparing the motion to that of Terry’s big, hairy dog after being forced to endure a bath. The humor fell flat.

Shaking her head at her own idiocy, she killed the engine, popped the door open, and stepped out into the daylight. One thing was for sure: splotches of memory that might not even be memory at all were not going to get her any closer to learning what she needed to know. The mission she was on today just might. But first things first—she really needed to pee.

***

Twenty minutes later, Nettie was pulling in next to April Dulcey’s half-rotted deathtrap of a Honda Accord, its original light blue paint liberally besmirched by splotches of rust. Looks like a giant ate a village full of Smurfs, then took a massive shit in this woman’s driveway. She had to suppress a fit of laughter. Focus, girl. 

Emerging from the car, Nettie took a moment to appraise the yard as she slung a large white satchel over her shoulder. It had been recently mowed; a sloppy job that did not include edging. Two kids’ bikes were tucked up against the porch, and the plastic table, chairs, and tea service were exactly where they’d been when she’d driven by before, only a few meters from the woods. Whoever mowed the lawn had just gone right around the table and chair set.

Squaring her shoulders, she made her way up the walk. She was just shy of the front steps when the door flew open. The woman who stood in the doorway matched Nettie’s mental image of trailer trash to a tee. Her hair was the victim of an awful red dye job that was sufficiently past its prime for one-inch roots to be visible. A pair of ragged jeans two sizes too small cinched her belly in a way that made Nettie think of a rubber band wrapped around a marshmallow. A nondescript white tank showed off three inches of fleshy midriff. Nettie knew from the files that April Dulcey was thirty-one, but the lines on her face suggested early forties.

She peered at Nettie through bloodshot eyes. “Who the fuck are you?”

Coming up short at the bottom of the steps, Nettie put one hand on the rail, holding up her wallet with the other, the DEA consultant card she carried on display. “I’m—”

“Oh, hell no,” the woman snarled. “No more. I don’t want any more of you silly fucks in my house, so you can just—”

“I’m Nettie Hastings,” Nettie cut in, raising her voice. “I’m the one who—”

“Nettie?!” A small face stuffed itself into the narrow space between her mother’s waist and the doorframe. The face looked freshly scrubbed, the light brown hair neat, clean, and loose around the shoulders. This was such a far cry from the bedraggled creature Nettie had plucked from the ruins of County Highway Eight that it took a moment to recognize her.

“Nettie!” Gina Dulcey squealed, squeezing past her mother and hurtling down the porch steps. Nettie caught her on the way down, scooping the child into her arms. Tears stung her eyelids, tears she knew better than to shed.

Then Heather was there, brushing past her mom with a little more grace than her sister had, but then picking up the pace. She was down the steps in a flash, arms around Nettie’s waist.

“Oh,” said April, with total ill grace. “You’re Nettie. I guess you can come in.”

***

Terry unfolded his body from the driver’s seat of his recently purchased Honda Pilot, now parked outside the five-story edifice that was the Pinewood Clinic in Johnstown. Julie was clambering out of the passenger’s side. Terry popped open the rear door, offering Mallory a hand as she slid to the ground.

She took it, but rolled her eyes. “You should probably save that stuff for when I’m too big to see my feet.”

Terry laughed. “This is but the tip of the iceberg, my dear. Should the hallways be crowded, I intend to clear the way by shouting, ‘Lady with a baby!’”

Chuckling, Julie came around the front of the car and elbowed him in the ribs. “Out of the way, baby daddy. I got this.” Terry obligingly moved aside, then trailed along behind as the two women approached the building hand in hand.

***

“Are you two doing okay? Is there anything you need?”

“Maybe a mom who isn’t a bitch,” said Heather with a sardonic twist of her lip. Nettie was seated on the center cushion of the Dulceys’ couch, a girl pressed close to her on either side. Dear old Moms had exchanged token pleasantries, offered Nettie a drink which she’d politely refused, then retreated outside to smoke a cigarette.

Nettie offered the girl a wry smile. “How are your hands?” The first, second, and third fingers of Heather’s right hand were swathed in bandages. The left first and second fingers were similarly bound. The unbandaged digits bore the lingering aftermath of deep abrasions, but appeared to be functional.

“Getting better, but I still need one more operation on my right hand fingers,” Heather replied. “I really messed them up, and you guys still had to finish getting me out.”

“You got Gina out,” Nettie reminded her. “I think that makes you the best big sister ever. Besides, you had no way to know we were coming. What you did was incredibly brave, and exactly the right thing.”

Heather was looking up at her, hands twisting in her lap. “Have they caught him yet, Nettie?”

Nettie sighed. “No. Actually, that’s why I’m here.” Extracting a folded piece of printer paper from the satchel on the floor between her feet, she spread it out on the coffee table, smoothing the crease. It was Jacob Brentshaw’s arrest mugshot.

Heather awkwardly picked it up between the thumb and unbandaged two fingers of her left hand, examining the photo at arms length. Leaning across Nettie’s lap, Gina looked on.

“This was taken fifteen years ago, so he’d look older now,” said Nettie.

“It’s not him,” said Heather with an air of finality.

Nettie opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She hadn’t realized, not until right this second, how sure she’d been that Heather and Gina’s kidnapper was the same twisted fuck who had taken Anna’s life.

Nettie squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them again. She forced the words out. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s close. Like they’d probably be related. The nose is the same. But some things are different, and it’s not just because he’s younger.”

“The cheeks are wrong,” Gina put in. “If it wasn’t for that, it might fool me.”

“Damn,” Nettie muttered. “You think they look like relatives, though?”

“Oh, for sure,” said Heather. “It’s close enough that it’s giving me the creeps.”

“But they’re definitely different people.”

“Yeah, definitely,” said Heather.

“Uh-huh,” Gina agreed.

Nettie let her head droop forward, staring down at her hands while she forced her recalcitrant brain to accept this new data. “Okay,” she said, “Thanks. At least we know.”

“Who is this, anyway?” Heather inquired, rattling the paper in her hand.

“A horrible, horrible man,” said Nettie. “Best to leave it at that. Anyway, I brought some stuff for the two of you.” Reaching back into her satchel, she came up with a pair of large insulated lunch boxes, one green and the other orange, but otherwise identical.

“One for each of you. Anyone got a color preference?”

“Can I have the orange, Heather?” Gina pleaded. “It’s the same as Nettie’s glasses!”

Heather smiled a sad little smile. “All yours, Gina.”

“They’re both full of snacks,” said Nettie, handing Gina the orange and Heather the green. “All stuff that’s bad for you, so enjoy. Oh—and both boxes have a card with my phone number and email address inside. If you have questions, or think of anything I might need to know, or if you just plain need someone to talk to, you can get in touch with me anytime. Okay?”

“We’d better hide ‘em good,” Gina declared, “or our mom’ll eat all of it.”

Nettie felt a twinge of anger, but did her best to keep what she was thinking from showing on her face. “Maybe you’d better run them to your bedroom before she comes in.”

Heather rolled her eyes. “No worries. She’ll find an excuse to stay outside till you leave. It’s what she did with all the other people who came to talk to us.”

Fighting tears, Nettie wrapped an arm around each girl, pulling them close. “You have my contact info,” she said. “If you girls need anything, you get ahold of me. Okay?”

***

“I’m sorry, but I’m not clear on the dynamic here,” said Doctor Nadine Belgarde, the chubby brunette seated on the examination room stool. By sheer happenstance, Mallory had gotten a cancellation appointment with Terry’s own primary care physician. “Not that I want to pry or anything, but—”

“It’s okay,” said Mallory. “Julie is my domestic partner. I have the occasional heterosexual fling, that she knows about. Terry was one of them.”

“Well for starters, honey, your taste in men really sucks,” Dr. Belgarde said cheerfully, jerking her thumb in Terry’s direction. She and Terry both laughed. Julie and Mallory joined in after a moment’s hesitation.

“Anyway,” the doctor continued, “the results just came back. It’s a sure thing; you’re pregnant.”

Mallory nodded. “I know.”

“Okay, then. Something tells me you’re not a person who needs an exhaustive list of all your options, but do you want me to review them for you?”

“I think I’m good there.”

“Excellent,” said Dr. Belgarde. “Are you planning on carrying to term?”

“Yes.”

“All right, then,” the doctor said with a smile. She had a pleasing smile, one that spoke of a cheerful outlook on life. “Now, you live in Colorado, is that right? When are you planning to return?”

“When classes start at the end of August.”

“You’re a student, then?”

The corners of Mallory’s mouth curled upward. “Professor.”

“Oh, okay. Sorry about that. What do you teach?”

“Music.”

Dr. Belgarde flashed that wonderful smile again. “That is so cool. I played the viola with the U of M Mankato orchestra during my undergrad. I still miss it. Anyway—” she glanced at the notes on her tablet. “Looks to me like you’re in excellent health, so that’s a plus. Would you say you maintain a pretty balanced diet? Fresh fruit, veggies, that sort of thing?”

Mallory smiled back; the woman was infectious. “No problems there.”

“Terrific. I’d recommend you get started on a daily course of prenatal vitamins, but so long as you’re eating well and there are no other problems, the over-the-counter stuff ought to be just fine. I won’t tell you to avoid caffeine completely, but it should be kept to a minimum. Think you can handle no more than two hundred milligrams a day? That would be—”

“I’m just going to cut it out altogether. No big deal.”

“Do we need to have a conversation about alcohol or other intoxicants?”

Mallory shook her head. “Not a drop until I have the baby. It goes without saying, right?”

The doctor’s smile turned sour. “Sweets, I’m a family doc in an economically repressed rural area. Unfortunately it absolutely does not go without saying, and it’s a little depressing how often saying something doesn’t make a difference.”

“No worries,” said Mallory. “I won’t be using. And I don’t smoke, if that’s your next question.”

Nadine’s smile returned to sunny in an eyeblink. “You’re my dream patient. Too bad you don’t live here; you’d be a shining example to everyone else. Speaking of which, if you stick to the itinerary we talked about, you’ll be getting initial prenatal care here in Minnesota. We usually like to do the first ultrasound anywhere from seven to eight weeks after the start of your last menstrual cycle, so that’ll be a few weeks from now. You’re down in the Ottertail County area, correct?”

“Dickson. I grew up there.”

“That’s about three hours southwest of here, isn’t it? How did you meet this guy?” She waved her hand at Terry.

Mallory indicated Julie with her thumb. “Her cousin Nettie Hastings lives in Bronning. She’s friends with Terry.”

The doctor’s smile widened as she turned her attention to Julie. “Oh, I knew you resembled someone I know! I just couldn’t put my finger on it. I did an emergency medicine fellowship, so I sometimes pick up shifts in the ER when they’re shorthanded. I know Nettie. She’s everyone’s favorite paramedic down there.”

She peered more closely at Julie. “Wow, you really do look like her. I think it was the different hair that threw me. Anyway—”

She took another moment to peruse the chart. “You’re not too far from Alomere Health in Alexandria, then. Dr. Sanders down there is a terrific OB. Want me to give you a referral?”

“That’d be great.”

“Okay. It should show up in your MyChart before the day is out. Just one other thing then.”

Dr. Belgarde hesitated, her smile fading. “Here’s where I get told to mind my own business, but I need to ask. This is what we’d definitely call a non-traditional situation. An unplanned pregnancy, and you’re in a same-sex domestic relationship with someone who, obviously, is not the father. Meanwhile, the actual father is sitting right in front of me. My concern is any sort of situation that will lend itself to unusual levels of prenatal stress. It’s not good for the baby. I can give referrals for group counseling, individual therapy, whatever you have to have.”

She threw Terry a wicked grin. “Except I don’t have a cure for the father being a complete tool. I’ve been wanting to have that organ removed ever since your first appointment, Terry, but the surgeons tell me they don’t have a long enough drill.”

Julie and Mallory shared a laugh. Terry raised an eyebrow. “How long have you been waiting to use that line?”

Dr. Belgarde chuckled. “Oh, I’ve been sitting on it for a few months.”

Terry inclined his head, then met her eyes. “Well played,” he said cheerfully, “but the real gold standard is coming up with them on the fly.”

“Oh, I’ll get there.” She turned her attention back to Mallory. “Seriously, though—do you think you might need any sort of mental health services?”

Mallory took Julie’s hand, squeezed. “I think I’m okay.”

The doctor looked to Julie. “I haven’t heard much from you. Your good health, including your mental health, is going to be important for Mallory, and once again—this is a situation that I can’t help but be a little concerned about. I can set things up for you, if it’s needed.”

Julie shook her head. “I’m in a good place with it. If that changes, I promise I’ll get help.”

“I can’t ask for more than that.” The doctor stood. “Mallory, Julie, it was a pleasure meeting you. Even though I’m not your primary, if you need any little thing, you just call my office.”

She cocked her head at Terry, the corners of her mouth curling upward. “As for you—get the hell out of my exam room. You’re stinking up the joint.”

Terry cocked his head. “Why? So you can start crying yourself to sleep while desperately counting the minutes until my next appointment?”

“So I can drink myself to sleep while desperately trying to figure out where I went wrong in life, being stuck in a position where I have to treat douchey people like you.”

Doctor Nadine Belgarde exited the room with a self-satisfied spring in her step, leaving Terry staring after her open-mouthed.

“Well, goddamn,” he murmured, staring at the closed door. Then he broke into a grin. “Well played, madame.”

Julie and Mallory were both laughing. “How fun was that?” said Julie.

***

Nettie’s phone rang as her car descended the long hill that comprised most of Keenan Lake Road, leading her out of the trailer park and back to County Seven. She glanced at the infotainment system on the dash; ‘Unknown Number’ it said. She debated not taking it, then thumbed the accept button on the wheel.

“Hello?”

“Ms. Hastings, this is Latisha Miller with the FBI. I’ll come right out and say it: what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Wait—what?”

There was a moment’s pause. “Okay, honey, we need to talk, and I’d prefer a secure line. Can you drive to Virginia? Not the state, thanks very much.”

Thirty minutes later Nettie was seated at a desk in the ad hoc offices the FBI was maintaining in rented space in downtown Virginia. The contingent had been whittled down to just two agents, one of whom Nettie recognized. Agent Tso was the East Asian gentlemen who had been there a month ago, part of the search for Heather and Gina Dulcey. He’d ushered Nettie into this office with exquisite courtesy, setting her up behind a large computer screen that was already conferenced in to wherever the fuck FBI Special Agent Latisha Miller was at the moment. Location notwithstanding, Miller had a damn fine work space.

On the screen, The FBI agent looked up from whatever it was she’d been doing. “Ms. Hastings. Good to see you again.”

“Likewise. What’s this about?”

“Why did you pay a visit to the Dulcey residence?”

Nettie folded her hands on the desk. “How did you know?”

“We have the place under 24-7 video surveillance. The Dulcey girls are considered to be at risk, because they’d theoretically be capable of identifying the perp. There’s always the chance he or someone close to him will come back and try to neutralize that threat.”

Nettie was mentally kicking herself. Of course the place was being watched. “I wanted to see how the girls were doing. I, um, brought them some presents.”

“Is that all? For real? Because that was a damn short visit for a social call.”

Nettie sighed. “Fine. Since nobody else was going to do it, I wanted to show them Jacob Brentshaw’s mugshot. I figured we needed to rule out the possibility.”

Miller slowly nodded. “I was going to, but my bosses nixed the idea. What did you learn?”

“It wasn’t him. Both girls agreed there were differences aging wouldn’t account for. They also thought it was scary close, like it was probably a relative or something.”

Miller appeared to give that a moment’s thought. “I looked through all the old files after our debriefing, the day the Dulcey girls were rescued. Brentshaw doesn’t have any male relatives that would be even close to the estimated age of the perp.”

“I know that. But an almost identical crime, committed by someone who almost looks like him? You have to admit, it’s a hell of a coincidence.”

“That’s putting it mildly.”

“So what’s your next move?”

“A number of things, but nothing I’m at liberty to discuss. I’ll go out on a limb and tell you that we’re not following up on the alleged Brentshaw connection. There simply isn’t enough to go on that I can justify it.”

Nettie chewed on the inside of her cheek. “Okay—if you could justify it, what would you do?”

Miller was shaking her head before Nettie was done. “Oh, no you don’t. What I need you to do is butt out, Hastings. I appreciate what you’ve done—tremendously—but I can’t have a civilian putting herself at risk on a high-stakes case like this. Especially on a line of investigation that’s likely to lead nowhere.”

“You really believe there’s not a connection here?”

“I didn’t say that. But resources are limited, and we can only devote so many agents to this now that the immediate crisis has been averted. Hell, we’re maybe two or three days away from being ordered to close down the Virginia office, possibly even discontinue surveillance of the trailer park. That’s just how it is. It’s an open case, but it’s not going to get much priority going forward because it has low odds of leading to an arrest. We can only do so much.”

“Put me in the game,” said Nettie, throwing caution to the wind. “Look, I know there’s something to this, so do you, so let’s go after this fucker before he does it again.”

No response. Agent Miller’s face might have been carved out of granite.

Nettie tried another tack. “Look at it this way: the only way you can stop me from doing this on my own is to arrest me, so you might as well offer some guidance.”

Miller let out a long, slow breath. “What information do you already have, and what do you feel that you lack?”

Nettie felt a surge of triumph at the unexpected victory, but she kept her face still. “I got Bridgett Ramscone to hook me up with current information for Brentshaw’s living relatives, but she made me promise not to contact any of them before she gave it to me. I was particularly interested in female relatives, because I’m pretty damn sure Brentshaw had a female accomplice when I was kidnapped. I—”

“Hold on,” Miller’s eyes narrowed. “Except for a comment made by your sister about ‘bad people’ only minutes before she died, there’s not a single word in any of the Brentshaw files hinting at a second person being involved. You didn’t tell anyone at the time.”

“I wasn’t able to give a statement when I was found,” Nettie countered. “And by the time I was in any shape to talk about it, I’d blocked it out. When Bridgett sent me the case files during the Dulcey search, it brought back a few things that I hadn’t been able to remember before. I never saw a second person, and I don’t think Anna did either, but I remember hearing him talking to someone with a female voice, and I remember Anna talking about hearing the same thing. Several instances of each.”

“And you trust that these memories are genuine?”

Nettie sighed. “I won’t say a hundred percent, but it’s a damn sight higher than fifty. Also—” she hesitated, unsure how much she wanted to say. Miller raised her eyebrows, cocked her head.

“I am less than fifty percent on this one,” said Nettie, “but I seem to remember hearing him talking—recognizing it as his voice—to the female, and her saying something about Jacob staying longer than expected, and getting curious. As in a third party, not someone present at the time.”

“But she was talking to someone whose voice you recognized as that of Jacob Brentshaw.”

“No,” said Nettie, leaning forward in her chair. Now that she was processing the imagery from this morning’s dream aloud, a deadly suspicion was forming. “She was talking to someone whose voice I recognized as that of Creepface. That’s what Anna and I called him. He never gave us a name, not that I remember, anyway. And you know, I didn’t see his fucking mugshots, or any pics of him at all, until just a few weeks ago. I’ve always avoided all the press stories and shit like that. I didn’t see pictures until I was far past the point of being able to accurately remember what he looked like. When I saw his mugs I was like oh yeah, that’s him—but if it’s as close as Gina and Heather just told me it is, I wouldn’t have noticed any discrepancies after so many years.”

Miller gazed at her steadily for several long moments before she spoke. “Ms. Hastings—Nettie—are you seriously suggesting that Jacob Brentshaw wasn’t the one responsible for—”

“I don’t know,” said Nettie. “It doesn’t make sense, does it? He was there, he got arrested, he was convicted. And again—I’m a long way from convinced that’s even a real memory.”

“So what is it you’d like to do?”

“Questioning Brentshaw’s relatives would be one hell of a good start.”

“What would you want to ask them?”

Nettie rocked back in the chair. “I’d have to sit down and think that over. I’m not even sure who I’d start with. I’ve looked over the info we have on them, and most of them seem to be located in various parts of Iowa and Wisconsin. None of them looks less likely to be a suspect than any of the others. Except possibly his sister Melissa. She’s a hell of a lot younger than him, and a systems analyst for a big company in Cedar Rapids.”

“You realize, of course, that if there even was a female accomplice, it’d most likely not be a relative?”

“I get that, but Brentshaw doesn’t appear to have had much of a social life. Very reclusive, lived by himself, no known close associates. From the files I have, I can’t even find a starting point outside of family. If I could question his relatives, that’d maybe be a good first question.”

Latisha Miller smiled. “You really do think like an agent. So what’s stopping you from following this up?”

“Basically, I promised Bridgett I wouldn’t. I told her I’d contact her if the info itself gave me any leads, and it really doesn’t.”

Miller pursed her lips. “We may be able to get around that. I’ll contact you later in the day. Any other lines of investigation come to mind for you?”

Nettie hesitated, then plunged ahead. “I’m still not convinced that the perp in the Dulcey girl’s kidnapping wasn’t Jacob Brentshaw. Yeah, the girls say it wasn’t, but they also say it’s a pretty damn good likeness, and they’re little girls who might not be clear on how much aging can change a face.”

“So—what do you want to do?”

“You mean short of digging him up and running DNA?”

Miller’s face took on the contemplative look of someone actually thinking it over. “For now, yes. Short of that.”

“Prison records, then. I know, he was killed in a high security facility, and that ought to be gold standard, but right now I’d like to see some proof that whoever was shanked in that shower room was in fact Jacob Brentshaw.”

“That’s not as simple as it sounds. Consider what the very request implies. We’d be accusing them of gross incompetence at best. At worst—well—something a lot more sinister.”

“But can you get it?”

“I have the authority to demand the records, but that makes it sound easier than it is. If there is anything hinky, you couldn’t trust that they wouldn’t cherry-pick what they send. There are very few checks and balances in that environment, and there’s a culture of covering each other’s asses. I’d have to send an agent, or more realistically a couple of agents, to make sure we get everything we want. The prison would then issue a formal complaint, and unless the information we came away with contained something damning, my ass would be grass. Sorry, honey. I need a lot more than what we have now to go in with all guns blazing.”

Nettie ran a hand across her face. “That’s basically what Bridgett said, too.”

Latisha offered a wan smile. “Look, you’re thinking in all the right ways. But if you’re as smart as Bridgett thinks you are, then you’re seeing the same thing I’m seeing.”

Nettie spread her hands. “I know. Everything we have is either circumstantial, or based on memories that I don’t even trust, and they’re my memories. And none of the lines of investigation we’re looking at are likely to lead anywhere.”

“But?”

“But I’d still like to talk to some of Brentshaw’s relatives.”

Miller nodded. “It’s the only reasonable angle of attack, for the moment. What’s your schedule like for the rest of the day?”

“I’m going home. My cousin and her partner are visiting, and we’re going out for dinner tonight.”

“Okay,” said Agent Miller. “I’m going to see if I can set up a conference call with Ramscone this afternoon. How long is your drive home?”

“Ninety minutes or so.”

“I’ll make sure it’s after that, then. Can you squeeze it in?”

“Yeah, I’ll make it work. Bridgett is gonna be pissed, though. I didn’t tell her I wouldn’t go talk to Heather and Gina, but she’ll still be mad I did it without talking to her first.”

“You knew that, and you did it anyway because…”

Nettie sighed. “Because she would have said no.”

Miller chuckled. “I figured. Okay, why don’t you be on your way. Is the email we have on file for you correct? Nettie underscore Hastings at Gmail?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. I’m going to send you a link to download a messaging app a little more secure than the stuff you more ordinarily use. It’ll work on a PC or a phone. Get that, and we’ll talk this afternoon.” Without another word, Special Agent Latisha Miller terminated the conference call.

On to Chapter Eighteen!

1

Down the Rabbit Hole, Chapter 2

  • Posted on May 3, 2026 at 7:46 pm

The Story Thus Far

Ch1: In which Sarah and Frankie peruse some rather risqué entertainment, then get intimately acquainted with a pair of soiled undies. Who says staying at home on weekends is boring?

 

by BlueJean

1

Sunday morning was spent cleaning the house from top to bottom. Bed linen and risqué weekend lingerie were washed, windows opened to let the aroma of sex escape, and incriminating laptops and sex toys hidden where inquisitive little girls wouldn’t find them. It always made me feel like a naughty teenager, frantically cleaning up after a wild party before the unsuspecting parents came back home.

As the afternoon arrived, so did my daughter, bounding up the front steps with her father in tow. My ex-husband used to be called Dan, but since the divorce I’ve taken to calling him The Arsehole. I think it’s a lovely name which suits him down to the ground.

“Mummy!” squealed Kerry as she crashed into me for a big hug.

“Hey, Peanut,” I said, stroking her curly blonde locks. “Did you have a good time?”

Kerry gave an enthusiastic nod. “We went to a really posh restaurant, and Daddy bought me some new clothes.”

“Oh, that sounds nice,” I said. It was standard behaviour from my ex – the easiest way for him to interact with something he doesn’t quite understand is to throw money at it and hope it makes approving noises.

“You okay?” I asked, giving him one of those special smiles that somehow manages to convey disapproval more than friendliness.

“Yep,” he grunted noncommittally as he deposited Kerry’s bag on the step and reached down to give her a brief hug. “See you next weekend, sprogget.”

“Bye, Daddy,” my daughter piped, then lugged her bag past me into the house.

Her father raised a hand to me as he strolled back to his car. That was about as chatty as we got these days. I suppose it must be a real blow to the male ego, losing your wife to another woman.

Kerry was in the kitchen with Frankie, rambling away about her weekend. “…and I had this massive pizza with literally everything on it, but I couldn’t eat it all, so the restaurant lady put it in a box and let me take it home. I still managed dessert, though. Then earlier, Daddy took me shopping, so I got some new jeans and two T-shirts. Oh, and we…”

Frankie swept my daughter’s hair out of her eyes while she nibbled on her sourdough toast, nodding and humming in all the right places. “Sounds awesome!” she enthused when Kerry was finally done.

Kerry and Frankie got on spectacularly. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying Frankie is a responsible parent. If someone was foolish enough to entrust her with their children, she’d probably lose them somewhere, or let them starve to death by accident. What I mean is, Frankie’s good with kids because she’s essentially a kid herself.

“Mummy, Daddy’s moving away soon, so I won’t be able to stay with him much.”

This was news to me, which wasn’t surprising given the lack of communication between Kerry’s father and myself. “Oh? Where’s he moving to?”

“Dooby,” my daughter informed me.

“Huh?”

“Um… Dooby?” she repeated, unsure.

“Dooby?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s Dooby?”

“A country.”

Frankie chuckled. “You mean Dubai?”

“Oh, yeah, I meant that.”

“Nice of him to let me know,” I muttered. Not that I gave a shit what The Arsehole did with himself, but considering the impact it would have on our daughter’s life, you’d think it might have at least warranted a phone call. Wanker. “When is he moving out there?”

Kerry eyed Frankie’s toast with considerable interest. “In a month, maybe two months or something. It’s to do with his job.”

“Oh, okay. Are you sad that you won’t be able to stay with him anymore?”

“Yeah, I s’pose. But I’ll still see him sometimes – he says he’ll be back quite a lot. And anyway, I want to see what you and Frankie do when I’m not here.”

Frankie nearly choked on her toast.

“Uh, well, it’ll be nice for us all to spend some weekends together for a change,” I said, giving Frankie a wry look. She popped the rest of her toast into Kerry’s mouth.

Kerry hummed away happily as she polished off the snack, then took out her phone. “Frankie, have you ever seen a dog riding a bike?”

Frankie looked intrigued. “I have not, Peanut-chan, but I’m pretty sure my life will be incomplete until I do.”

While Kerry showed Frankie YouTube videos, I took her travel bag up to the bathroom to empty her dirty clothes into the washing basket.

I soon found myself with two pairs of Kerry’s used knickers in my hand, a white pair with pink hearts, and a baby blue pair with yellow trim. I held them for a moment, a low throb pulsing between my thighs.

Put them in the basket, you stupid cow.

Instead, I closed and locked the bathroom door, then sat down on the toilet.

A voice echoed through my head, like a policeman barking commands through a loudhailer. Step away from the panties! Step. Away. From the panties!

I inspected the crotch of the white pair. There was a little pale stain in there, right where Kerry’s pussy had nestled against the soft fabric.

This is ridiculous. She’s downstairs in the kitchen, for God’s sake.

I clamped Kerry’s panties to my face and breathed in. A light musky scent filled my nostrils, intoxicating me. I uttered the obligatory mantra of all dedicated perverts the world over: “Fuck yeah…”

The blue pair were even more fragrant, and I had to wonder if Kerry had touched herself through them. Had she started masturbating yet? True, she was only eight, but she wouldn’t be the first little girl to discover what her body was capable of. Is that what she did at night in bed? Snaking an exploratory hand down beneath her quilt and into her knickers?

I popped the buttons on my jeans and pushed them down to my ankles, along with my underwear. Still sniffing Kerry’s blue panties, I scrubbed the other pair against my pussy, pushing the soft cotton between my lips.

“You smell so fucking nice, Kerry,” I muttered.

Extending my tongue, I ran the tip across the soiled crotch, the sheer depravity of the act making my cunt throb with an even greater urgency. I was on the verge of coming quick and hard, perched on the loo with my own underwear stretched round my ankles while I did terrible, perverted things to my eight-year-old daughter’s soiled knickers. I was a dirty, sick, depraved lady, but right then I didn’t give a flying fuck.

Just then, the door handle turned. “Mummy, I need a wee!” Kerry shouted from the other side.

“Shit!” I hissed and quickly tugged my jeans up. “Hold on, sweetie.” I deposited her panties into the washing hamper and unlocked the door, acutely aware that the bathroom was now infused with the musky scent of pussy.

Kerry bounded in and pulled her shorts and knickers down in one fluid movement, then parked herself on the still-warm loo seat. I saw her nostrils flare briefly, but I don’t think she gave much thought to the lingering aroma; maybe wasn’t even aware of what it was.

“Why did you lock the door?” she asked. Suffice to say, the three of us never bothered locking the bathroom door unless we had guests.

“Uh, dunno,” I replied, and Kerry seemed to find the answer satisfactory.

I deposited the rest of her clothes into the bin, which happened to be right next to the toilet. That afforded me the opportunity to steal quick glances of Kerry’s smooth slit as she peed.

Jesus, get a grip! I berated myself. If I was getting turned on by my daughter, it was only because I was allowing myself to. It didn’t mean I was attracted to her, I reasoned. Frankie’s kiddy porn had been a massive turn-on simply because it’d been something new and novel, not because I was hot for little girls.

You don’t suddenly turn into a kiddy-fiddler halfway through your life, but still… you need to be smart about this, okay? Don’t do anything stupid.

Kerry pulled her shorts back up and flushed the loo, then insisted on showing me her snazzy new jeans, which seemed to have far more zippers, buckles and buttons than was strictly warranted.

I really needed to come.

2

When evening came around, the three of us observed our usual Sunday ritual of cooking a roast dinner together. Frankie and Kerry chopped up vegetables while I basted the meat and drank wine. I got the better job, I think.

As we haphazardly prepared our meal, laughing and chatting about this and that, it reminded me of what a perfect little family unit we had. Life was good.

Me and Frankie got a tad tipsy as usual, and we even let Kerry have a small glass of watered down white wine. I don’t think she enjoyed the taste much, but she liked to feel included.

We finished our meal, then settled down in the lounge to watch TV for the remainder of the evening. At some point, Kerry took herself to bed, and me and Frankie weren’t far behind. Tomorrow was a school/work day. Granted, we both worked from home – me as a proofreader and Frankie as a blogger – but that still required actually getting out of bed in the morning and doing some work.

“It wasn’t weird with Kerry, was it?” I said as we lay in bed. “It didn’t make things weird – you know, when she came back? There was no… weirdness or anything?”

Frankie was checking emails and blog posts on her laptop. “If you’re asking me if it was weird – and I think you might be – no, of course not. I nearly died when she mentioned being here for our weekend activities, though.”

“Mmm. Well, with her dad moving to Dubai, and Kerry home for the weekends, I get the feeling we won’t be enjoying our kinky escapades for a while.”

Frankie afforded me a disapproving pout. “We can still watch the occasional sneaky video, can’t we?” she pointed out, then added, “And if a certain little girl’s dirty knickers found their way into our bedroom – completely by accident, of course – we could have some naughty fun with them. Or was that just a one-off?”

I was tempted to tell her about the bathroom incident, but I was allowed to have my own secrets, wasn’t I? God knows, Frankie had kept her penchant for kiddy porn hidden from me long enough.

“Oh, you enjoyed my daughter’s panties, did you?” I teased.

“I think we both did. Didn’t we?”

“Hmm… maybe the Panty Fairy left us something.”

“Oooh, there’s a Panty Fairy?!” Frankie squealed, clapping her hands together like a kid who’s just inherited a sweet shop.

“You didn’t know about the Panty Fairy? I hear she leaves dirty panties under your pillow if you’re a good girl.”

“Fuck off!”

“It’s true!”

We both broke into peals of laughter.

“Shhh, we’ll wake Kerry!” I hissed, still laughing. When we’d regained some composure, I raised a wry eyebrow at Frankie. “Well? Aren’t you going to check under your pillow?”

The smile vanished from Frankie’s face for a brief moment. She lifted her pillow a few inches and peered beneath. Sure enough, the Panty Fairy had paid her a visit, which was odd because Frankie was definitely not a good girl. Sandwiched between the two pillows was the little blue pair of panties I’d already had some fun with earlier in the bathroom.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” a delighted Frankie cooed, drawing her prize out.

“Smell them,” I demanded.

“Let’s smell them together.”

“No, just you. I want to play with myself while I watch you.”

Frankie rolled her eyes. “Jesus, I thought I was supposed to be the perverted one.” She pushed Kerry’s panties against her nose and breathed in the aroma.

“Nice?” I asked.

“Even better than the last pair.”

I could’ve told her that already, of course. “You’re a nasty girl, Frankie.” I pushed back the quilt, then slipped my pyjama bottoms down my legs. I didn’t hesitate in treating my pussy to several fingers.

Frankie gripped the panties between her teeth while she got naked.

“Lick them for me, you dirty bitch,” I growled while I fucked myself, so she made a show of slowly sliding her tongue up and down the crotch of the soiled material.

“Is this wrong?” Frankie said as she rubbed the damp knickers over her tits. “Playing kinky games with your daughter’s underwear while she’s asleep in the next room?”

I knew Frankie wasn’t in the slightest bit concerned about the morality of what we were doing. It was just a game to her – the talking, the taunting, the dirty words. If I’d been in any doubt, that little smirk, and the sing-song lilt of her voice, would’ve given her away in an instant.

“Yes, it’s wrong,” I groaned. “That’s what makes it so exciting, isn’t it?”

Frankie brought Kerry’s panties to her face again. “Her pussy smells quite strong. Think she’s masturbating yet?”

“Dunno. She’s only eight. That cam girl of yours wasn’t much older, though.”

An image of Kerry fucking herself with a toothbrush suddenly deposited itself into my perverted brain. This time, I didn’t bother fighting it. As long as it was safely confined to my head, it wasn’t doing any harm, right? And it was an awfully compelling image.

“I think we should rub our pussies together,” Frankie declared.

The two of us sat propped up on our elbows and joined together. Worried Kerry’s underwear hadn’t suffered enough abuse, I decided to stuff them between our legs so we could rub ourselves on the soiled fabric.

“Those knickers are going to be such a mess when we’ve finished with them,” Frankie cooed as we ground against the sodden material.

“Wouldn’t it be hot if she wore them to school tomorrow?” I groaned.

“God, you’re sick,” Frankie hissed. “I’m so lucky you’re my girlfriend.”

I was quick to come, arching my hips up against Frankie’s pussy and the little pair of child’s panties stuffed between us. The soft cotton took the brunt of my orgasm, absorbing the warm fluids that oozed so copiously from me.

A delighted Frankie took the messy knickers and attached them to her face without a hint of inhibition. Spent though I was, I scooted down the bed and ate her out until she came. I’m nothing if not considerate.

3

The next morning I left Frankie fast asleep in bed and went to wake Kerry. While she got herself ready for school, I made her a bowl of cereal and myself a strong coffee. A few minutes later she was sitting up to the kitchen table in her school uniform.

“What’s on the agenda today?” I asked as Kerry spooned sugary wisps of nothing into her mouth.

“We’re learning about the extinction of the dinosaurs,” she replied with her mouth half full. “And we’re doing a painting in art class. We can paint anything we want.”

A little flake of cereal managed to escape the carnage and was currently weighing up its options on her top lip.

“Swallow first, then talk,” I told her as I pulled the offending fragment away.

“Your fingers smell funny,” Kerry informed me matter-of-factly.

Of course they did. My fingers had been inside my pussy last night, inside Frankie’s too, for that matter, and I hadn’t washed them yet. My scent had always been quite strong – Kerry probably inherited that from me.

I should have pulled my fingers away, but instead I let them linger near her nose. “Good funny or bad funny?” I asked her.

What the hell are you doing?

“Kind of… good funny, I guess?” Kerry replied, a hint of colour reaching her cheeks. “It smells like the bathroom when I came in yesterday.”

I think she must have known what it was. Sure, she was only eight, but if she was anything like her mum she was already smelling and tasting herself. I’d always enjoyed the taste of my own pussy, even before I’d become sexually active.

Kerry gazed up at me while I let her smell last night’s arousal on my fingers. I wondered what she would think if she knew her own panties were to blame. I also wondered how I could persuade her to put a hand up her skirt and let Mummy have a little whiff of her fingers.

Frankie broke the spell when she shuffled into the kitchen. “Must. Have. Coffee,” she droned, lurching forward with her arms extended like Frankenstein’s monster.

Kerry giggled at my girlfriend’s foolishness.

“Okay, Peanut, eat up and let’s get you to school,” I said, then headed to the bathroom to wash my hands, brush my teeth and finger myself to a quick orgasm. Not necessarily in that order.

4

After I’d dropped Kerry off at school I decided to call in on my sister Judy, who lived not far from us.

Judy’s two years older than me and my confidante. We have a very close relationship, and I know if I ever have any problems, I can sound off on her and vice versa. She’s married to an Italian antiques dealer named Marco, and they have an adorable five-year-old girl.

When I pulled up in their drive, Marco was just leaving the house, my niece skipping along behind him. Isobel, or ‘Izzy’ as we all called her – was a beautiful little girl who inherited her father’s dark hair and olive skin.

She bounded over to give me a hug. “Hello, Aunty Sarah!”

“Hiya, Izzy! Are you off to school?”

The five-year-old nodded enthusiastically.

“You’ll have to come and visit me and Aunty Frankie and Kerry soon. They’d love to see you,” I told her.

“‘Kay,” she piped, then jumped in the car as her father opened the door for her.

“How you doin’, Sarah?” Marco asked in his soft accent.

Okay, I admit, my sister’s man was quite handsome. She definitely got the better deal as far as husbands were concerned, though I’m reliably informed he’s not even remotely into licking arse. That’s a complete deal-breaker for me.

“I’m good, thanks,” I told him. “Is my sister up yet?”

“She is. Still in her pyjamas,” he informed me with a good-natured eye-roll.

Marco had left the front door ajar for me, so I let myself in and hollered, “Jude?”

“In the lounge,” my sister called back.

I found her curled up on the couch with a cup of coffee. “Well, this is an early visit,” she said. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just dropped Kerry off at school and thought I’d pop in to catch up.”

“Coffee?”

Judy made good coffee. Well, Marco’s expensive coffee machine made good coffee. Another perk of having an Italian husband, I suppose. That’s a nation that takes its morning brew seriously.

“Please,” I said, and followed her into the kitchen where the magic happened.

“How’s Kerry and Frankie?” my sister asked.

“They’re okay.”

“And how’s your sex life?”

“Very nice, thanks. Yours?”

“Rubbish. That’s why I’m asking about yours.”

“Marco can’t be that bad in bed,” I scoffed. My sister did tend to exaggerate a bit.

“No, of course he’s not. And I do love him. It’s just all a bit… generic?”

“I definitely couldn’t accuse Frankie of being generic,” I mused, sipping my coffee.

“I want a kinky lesbian lover, too!” my sister pouted.

“Well, you can’t have mine, so shush!”

That reminded me of why I’d come in the first place. “Actually, I need to talk to you. We kind of got ourselves into some weird stuff.”

“You and Frankie?”

“Yeah.”

“Define weird stuff.”

“Sex stuff.”

She actually rubbed her hands together. “Finally, we get down to the nitty gritty!”

“You won’t judge me, will you?” I asked her seriously.

“I wouldn’t ever,” she assured me, and I knew she was as good as her word.

I took a deep breath. “Okay, so we’re in the lounge watching porn, and Frankie’s licking my arse, and she ends up sitting on my face, and it all gets a bit messy as usual, blah blah blah—”

“Wait!” Judy protested. “You’re skipping the best bits!”

“No. I’m really not. Now shush and let me finish.”

“Sorry, carry on. Actually, let’s go into the lounge. I wanna get comfortable while you tell it.”

We took our coffee into the lounge and settled on Judy’s big leather couch. I picked up where I left off.

“So, Frankie gives me this weird look and says she has something to show me.” I paused to take a slug of coffee, then continued. “And… Okay. So we, we kind of, um… watched a naked little girl play with herself?”

My sister sat there dumbstruck. “Child porn?” she said after a long uncomfortable pause.

“A live cam show,” I said, as if that somehow made it more acceptable. “But I suppose it was kiddy porn, yeah.”

“Do you mind if I put a hand down my knickers?” my sister asked without waiting for a reply.

Now, I know what you’re thinking – my sister frigging herself while I give her all the juicy details about my sex life is not the usual sibling dynamic. Well, the truth is, Judy and I have been fucking each other every now and again since we were kids. She even joins me and Frankie for threesomes on occasion. Of course, Marco knows nothing of that.

“Was it hot?” Judy asked me, her hand moving beneath her pyjama bottoms.

“Was what hot?”

“The child porn, dummy!”

“Oh. Yeah, it really was. I don’t think the girl was even ten. Her legs were practically wrapped around her head at one point. It was absolutely filthy!”

I fixed my gaze on my sister’s knuckles undulating beneath her jammies. I could hear her fingers sloshing around in her pussy, and smell the musky scent of her arousal. My own lust was beginning to stir. It didn’t take much to get me going these days.

“Christ,” Judy crooned. “I wouldn’t mind seeing something like that. Can you get Frankie to show me how to find it.”

“Uh, no, Judy. First, it’s illegal as hell. Second, you get confused working the TV remote. You’ll end up getting caught.”

“Just tell me what happened, then. This is a huge turn-on, by the way.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

I honestly hadn’t been sure how my sister would take what I was telling her. Of course, she’d never shop me to the police, but I worried we’d end up falling out over it. It was a big relief to discover how accepting she was.

“Frankie kept asking the kid to do stuff,” I continued.

“Like what?”

“She got her to masturbate. Then she persuaded her to stick a toothbrush up her arse.”

“Oh my God, Sarah. Listen… will you play with yourself for me? I want to come with you.”

I popped the buttons on my trousers and slipped a hand inside, bringing my right leg up to rest against the back of the couch so I had a better view of Judy fingering herself. I continued on with the story.

“So this young girl’s fucking her bum with the toothbrush, and she’s squealing and giggling away like it’s just about the best thing ever. And with the toothbrush still buried in her arse, she decides to – to put one of those fat marker pens into her pussy. I mean, what the hell. Then she just bounces to her feet all of a sudden and logs off ‘cause her mum’s calling her downstairs for supper. How messed up is that?””

Judy shook her head from side to side in an attempt to project a measure of disapproval, but with her hand down her knickers, it didn’t quite have the intended effect. “Sarah, that’s terrible.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, fingers pressed firmly into my sex. “Terrible. And if that wasn’t bad enough, Frankie put on another video – an older one where this woman and her daughter were taking turns eating each other out.”

“Appalling…” Judy groaned, her eyes thick with arousal. “How old was the girl?”

“She couldn’t have been much older than Izzy. Five or six? She had her entire hand in the woman’s vagina, Judy. I’ve never seen anything like it. Well, not with kids, at least.”

“Oh, the poor little thing!” Judy gasped, fingers toiling beneath her pyjamas.

“But that’s not the worst part,” I told her. “Actually, it might be the worst part, I’m not sure.”

“What else happened?” my sister demanded. “Hurry up and tell me; I’m g-going to come soon.”

I hesitated, suddenly reluctant to reveal the full extent of my perversion. Then I soldiered on, fully expecting a good telling off from my big sister. “We, um… took a pair of Kerry’s dirty panties and smelled them while we watched the kiddy porn.”

“What?! Fuck!” Judy gasped as she shuddered into orgasm.

The sight of her twitching away beside me was enough to make me come, too. I braced myself against the back of the couch and let it wash over me, then pulled my wet fingers from my knickers to suck clean.

“What on earth were you thinking?” my sister asked once she’d regained the power of speech, giving me a halfhearted shove with her foot.

I gave a derisive snort. “Careful you don’t fall off that high horse, sis. How was the orgasm, by the way?”

“I’m not judging, Sarah. But kiddy porn? Playing with Kerry’s knickers? It’s a slippery slope. You’re not thinking of… doing anything with her, are you? Kerry, I mean.”

“No. I’m not stupid, Judy. But I’m done pretending to be someone I’m not. I had enough of all that with my shitty marriage. I just wanna have a little fun before my hair goes grey and my tits hit the floor.”

Judy took my hand in hers. “I understand, I really do. But don’t get carried away with this, Sarah. Just be careful, okay?”

“I will. Thanks for listening. Well, you mostly just frigged yourself silly, but thanks anyway.”

My sister flashed her eyes at me. “You, me and Frankie should get together for another one of our special ‘sessions’ soon.”

“Been a while, hasn’t it? I’m sure we could arrange something. Frankie keeps mentioning what a tasty bumhole you have.”

Judy wiggled her arse at me. “Well, she would know. Um… can you get Frankie to send me that video? The one with the mum and her daughter?”

“And I’m the pervert? Okay, but do not show it to Marco.”

“As if.”

5

Back at home, I spent a few hours proofreading documents until it was time to pick Kerry up from school. She seemed a little quiet in the car, but I didn’t think anything of it.

When we arrived home, Kerry helped herself to a glass of lemon squash while Frankie asked about her day.

“I painted a picture of you and Mum, but some kids in my class made fun of it,” Kerry told her glumly.

“Why would they do that?” I asked.

“I made one of Frankie’s legs bigger than the other by mistake, and one boy asked if she had to wear one of those big shoes old ladies wear.”

The thought of Frankie clomping about in an orthopaedic shoe had me covering my mouth with a hand to stifle a laugh. Frankie noticed me struggling and looked in the other direction to avoid losing it too.

“That was mean,” I said. “I’ll bet his painting wasn’t anything to shout about.”

“Dunno, but I wish I hadn’t done the picture with you and Frankie holding hands because some of the other kids started asking me about how lesbians do sex.”

Frankie kissed her on the forehead. “Oh, they were probably just curious.”

“They were bloody laughing!”

“Hey, watch your language,” I told her.

“Sorry, but I didn’t know what to say. We did stuff about normal sex in class, but they didn’t say anything about girls doing it with other girls.”

“Girls having sex together is normal too, Kerry,” I explained. “It’s just, if they were teaching you about reproduction and babies, then gay relationships aren’t really part of that.”

“They should teach them about lesbians, though,” Frankie pointed out.

“Yes, they should, but maybe they just haven’t gotten round to that lesson yet,” I reasoned. “Kerry is only eight.”

“How do you do it, though?” Kerry said.

“Do what?” asked Frankie.

“Urgh. Lesbian sex!” my daughter exclaimed, rolling her eyes.

I looked at Frankie. Frankie looked at me.

“I’m not sure you need to know about that just yet,” I told Kerry.

“Well, obviously I do, ’cause they’ll make fun of me again. Charlie Simmons said lesbians have to do it sideways, but that doesn’t even make sense.”

How the hell do you explain the ins and outs of women loving women? I mean, it’s not an exact science.  But it had to be better coming from me and Frankie than Charlie fucking Simmons.

“Okay, Peanut,” I said. “Well, let’s see. Frankie? Want to explain how it all works for Kerry?”

Frankie looked out of her depth. Actually, Frankie looked like she had just drowned. “Um. It’s like boy-girl sex but with less… bits?”

I stared across the table at her for a long moment, waiting to see if she had any more wisdom to impart. She did not. “Brilliant. Thanks,” I said.

“You two are really bad at this,” Kerry groaned.

I ran my fingers through her soft blonde curls. “All right, how about this: me and Frankie will figure out what you need to know, and we’ll all sit down and have a big talk about it one evening this week. Is that okay?”

Kerry sighed dramatically. “O-kaay.”

Frankie attacked her with tickles, and Kerry did her best to maintain a solemn demeanour until she was forced into fits of laughter.

I breathed a sigh of relief. We were off the hook. For the moment, at least.

6

Later that evening, after Kerry had gone to bed, Frankie and I lay in ours trying to figure out how to explain the mechanics of girl/girl sex to my eight-year-old daughter.

“So. The Talk,” Frankie said in a doom-laden voice.

“Yup. The Talk,” I concurred.

“The birds and the bees.”

“Or the birds and the birds.”

“Possibly the bees and the bees.”

“At any rate, I’m pretty sure the boy-girl talk is a lot easier than the girl-girl talk,” I said. “Man sticks penis in woman’s vagina, baby pops out nine months later. Done.”

“Wow,” Frankie said, stroking my cheek. “And they say romance is dead.”

“Okay, here’s what we do: we write a list of all the things ladies of the queer persuasion like to do, and if Kerry wants to ask questions, she can.”

Frankie gave me a bemused look. “So we’re going to give her a list? That’s ridiculous.”

“Oh, this from a woman who manages to reduce lesbian lovemaking to ‘like boy-girl sex but with less bits’.”

Frankie stuck her tongue out at me. “Can’t we just tell her we like to kiss and cuddle like everybody else?” she said. “And maybe rub our pussies together once in a while?”

“I think we owe her more than that. It must be hard for her sometimes. Kids don’t like to feel different from everyone else.”

I always knew my relationship with Frankie would leave Kerry somewhat exposed to bullies and ignorant peers. It was something she would have to learn how to deal with as she got older, and there wasn’t much I could do to protect her from it. That tore at me.

“What if we just showed her some videos?” Frankie suggested with a shrug. “I can download some of the softcore ones for her.”

I gave her a scowl. “We’re not letting Kerry watch porn, Frankie. Jesus… And anyway, putting her in front of a TV and saying, ‘There you go, sweetie. Enjoy!’ is a total copout. It’s like a teacher handing out books and then buggering off down the pub for the rest of the day.”

We sat together in silence, mulling it over.

Frankie looked at me warily. “I might have a radical solution,” she imparted, “but you probably won’t like it.”

“I’m all ears.”

“Why don’t we let her watch us?”

I wasn’t sure I’d heard her correctly. “Excuse me?”

“Let her watch us have sex.”

I glared at her open-mouthed. “Are you mental?”

“I’m serious. I actually think it would feel less awkward just to show her than it would if we tried to explain it like a couple of idiots.”

“Uh, no. We’re not going to fuck in front of my eight-year-old daughter. That’s insane.”

“Why?”

“Why? Would you have wanted to watch your parents have sex when you were eight?”

Frankie thought about that for a moment, then screwed her face up in distaste. “True, watching my mum and dad thrashing around in the bedroom would have been quite horrific. But if Mum had a girlfriend, I’d probably have been into it. Sex between women is nicer, softer.”

“Sorry, are we talking about two completely different lesbians here? Me and you don’t do nice.”

“We’d tone it down a bit for Kerry. Wouldn’t want to scar her for life.”

We both fell into an uncomfortable silence. Were we actually considering this? Well, Frankie clearly was.

I tried my best to be the voice of reason. “This is crazy. We could get into big trouble. What if she told someone?”

“We’d have to make her promise not to,” said Frankie. “She’s old enough to understand the problems it could cause.”

“And what if she doesn’t want to watch us do the dirty?” I pointed out.

“She might not. If she says no, we’ll go back to the drawing board. Listen, Sarah – Kerry knows we love each other. What we do is normal and healthy. It won’t hurt her to see what it’s all about. It might be good for all of us.”

Frankie peered at me expectantly. I was on to her in a second.

“Oh my God, are you getting off on this?” I said, swatting her arm.

“Not really. A bit. I mean, it could be a lot of fun.”

I couldn’t deny that, but that’s not what it was about. It was about educating Kerry, arming her with the knowledge to defend herself against the ignorant and ill-informed.

Oh, who was I kidding? The thought of my eight-year-old daughter watching us have sex was fucking hot. I wanted it to happen as much as Frankie did. Okay, maybe not quite as much as Frankie.

“All right,” I said at last. “I’ll agree to it on two conditions: Firstly, we leave out all the dirty stuff – I don’t think Kerry needs to see us licking each other’s bumholes, and fisting is out of the question. And secondly, she just watches. No touching or making her interact or anything else.”

“Agreed,” Frankie said with a big shit-eating grin on her face.

“I hope this doesn’t backfire on us, Frankie, I really do.”

“It won’t, trust me,” my lover cooed, then kissed me tenderly on the neck. Her hand found one of my breasts and kneaded it gently. “We might as well get some practice in, then.”

We made intense love that night, grinding our pussies together until we both came several times. For myself, imagining that my daughter was watching us fuck added fuel to the fire, and I was sure Frankie was thinking the same thing.

I told myself our plan was just an unorthodox version of sex education. I told myself there was nothing morally untoward about it, that sex was natural and shouldn’t be hidden from children.

But of course, I was fooling myself, or having a fair bash at it, at least. It was really just another step down the rabbit hole. And the further down I went, the harder it would be to come back up.

On to Chapter Three!

3
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6

A Series of Erotic Interviews with Highly-Sexed Women, Chapter 7

  • Posted on April 28, 2026 at 2:41 pm

by Suzy Freeman

My final interview for this phase of the study was with Riley, a young woman of twenty-two. She is a natural redhead and claims her mother named her Riley for that reason, because she was born with a full head of hair. I found her marvelously attractive, though I only include that information because I am part of my own subject group, women who identify as having experienced a very active sex drive in their younger years. For the purpose of this interview, Riley brought her sisters with her: Wendy (aged seventeen) and Lacey (twelve). The final “interview” I present here will be a sort of memoir of my own early life, which will come after this interview and end phase one of this project.

Q: Hello, Riley. Thank you for agreeing to meet me at my apartment.

A: My pleasure.

Q: I see you brought two others with you. Would you introduce them for the purposes of this study?

A: Yes, these are my sisters. The older one is Wendy. She’s seventeen. Lacey is twelve.

Q: I take it they are fully aware of the subject we are about to discuss?

A: Yes, they are VERY aware of it. (I notice that both Riley’s sisters are blushing.)

Q: You all have such lovely red hair. Are both your parents redheads?

A: Yes. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear Mom and Dad are brother and sister. (She laughs.)

Q: Oh, my. That’s amazing. It practically guarantees all their children will be redheads, too.

A: Yes, we love having parents that look so much like us.

Q: Okay, let’s get started, shall we? Riley, suppose you tell me about your earliest sexual experience.

A: Gladly. When I was around eight, I discovered my pussy, at least I discovered it was good for more than peeing. I was riding a horse and realized suddenly that the bouncing on the saddle was making me feel good down there. In my “privates.” That’s the word my mother always used.

Q: Did this lead to further exploration of your body?

A: Did it ever! Soon after that, it led to my first orgasm.

Q: When you were riding?

A: No. It was a few nights later when I was at home in my bed. I started thinking about how good it felt to rub myself against the saddle, then I started touching myself to see if I could give myself that same feeling without having to ride a horse. Turns out that I could. (She smiles at me again, and I find myself wondering how long I can keep myself from kissing those delicious-looking lips.)

Q: Can you describe it in greater detail? (I see a definite prickle of interest in Riley’s eyes. She seems to understand that my interest in this story goes far beyond the mere analytical.)

A: Well, I started feeling around, and after a minute or so, I found my clit. I remember wondering what that little bitty nub was for, and after one touch, I knew. That’s what made it feel so good when I was riding. So I kept rubbing it until it got too sensitive, and I had to stop for a minute. Instead, I touched all these different parts of my pussy, coming back to my clit every once in a while. After about ten or fifteen minutes of this, it was feeling too good to stop, so I didn’t. Suddenly this amazing feeling rushed up on me and I just rode it as far as I could. I had no idea what an orgasm was… just that I loved it, and I wanted more, lots more!

Q: How did you figure out what it was?

A: I went online. This was only fourteen years ago, and Google was already around back then. Well, when I discovered the feeling was called an orgasm, and what I was doing was called masturbation, I continued to seek out information about both those things. Pretty soon this led me to online porn, and that blew me away. I mean, I had no idea this stuff existed! Yes, I knew that women had babies, but the details on how the baby got inside them were, you know, kinda vague. I knew it had something to do with penises and vaginas, but the videos I found made the, um, mechanics of that very clear to me. I remember thinking, “Damn, so THAT’S how it’s done!” (We all laugh at this.)

Q: Did it frighten you?

A: Hell, no! It turned me on! Well, not all of it. After a while, I found myself getting bored with the videos featuring men. Well, what really happened was I decided I liked seeing naked women a lot more. Then I started checking out lesbian videos, and oh, my gosh, they turned me on!

Q: Did that make you wonder if you could be gay yourself?

A: No, it didn’t. You have to understand that, at my age, love and sex were totally different things. Love was stuff like… like having a family, raising kids, going to the beach, watching TV together, Mom hugging Dad when he got home from work. The stuff I saw in online porn was all about having fun. At that age, I was still expecting to get married and have kids one day. (She laughed.) I guess that would include sex with a husband, but it wasn’t something I thought about much. I sure liked to think about girls, though!

Q: So you continued to watch lesbian porn on a regular basis?

A: Constantly. I remember thinking I’d hit the jackpot, because I found SO many film scenes that made me want to touch myself. Which worked out nicely; ‘cause I was totally hooked on masturbation. I didn’t care so much about Barbies anymore… watching porn and getting off became my new hobbies.  I still love doing them both.

W (Wendy): She even taught me how to masturbate.

A: I sure did! That’s sort of how Wendy and I started fooling around.

Q: Do the two of you still have sex together?

A: Of course! Why stop? We’re both gay, and we love each other..

Q: (I look at Lacey.) I take it you have sex with your sisters as well?

L: (Lacey nods.) Yes. Ever since I can remember!

Q: Riley, how old were your sisters when you brought them into your world of sexual celebration?

A: Oooh, that’s a great way to put it. Let’s see. Wendy was five the first time we did anything. I’d been masturbating for about a year to lesbian porn, and I was starting to think about having sex with a girl myself. I didn’t have the nerve to make a move on any of my friends, though.

One day Wendy and I were taking a shower together. Sometimes Mom would have us do that if we were in a hurry to get somewhere. That morning, I saw my sister naked for the first time in a long while. Honestly, I could’ve kicked myself for not thinking of Wendy as a potential sex partner. She really looked up to me, she loved trying new things… and she was such a pretty little girl at that age. Now she’s a woman, and more beautiful than ever..

W (blushing): Aw, thanks, sis.

A: So I started asking questions about her body, and she responded just like I hoped she would.

W: I was clueless, of course. Back then, my cunt was just the place I peed from.

A: (Places a hand on her sister’s thigh) After that day, you knew better!

W: I’ll say!

A: Anyway, I remember I asked her…

(From here, I will report this more as if it’s a story, not an interview. This is still taken directly from the recording of the interview and transcribed verbatim.)

***

“Wendy?”

“Yeah?”

“Have you ever wondered why you have that?” I asked, pointing between her legs.

“My trickle? It’s to pee from, silly. Everybody knows that.”

“Well, it is, but it’s for other things, too.”

“Like what?”

I thought for a second before answering. “Pleasure.”

“Pleasure?” She thought for a second. “Well, I guess it feels good when you don’t have to pee anymore. Is that what you mean?”

“No, that’s not it. You have to touch yourself, your trickle. Then you get this amazing feeling. Or someone else can do it to you; that’s even better.”

Wendy made a face. “Touch your trickle? Or someone else’s? Gross! Why would anyone DO that?” Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t believe you. You’re playing some kind of a joke, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m not! Listen, Wendy, I’m totally serious. It’s the absolute best feeling in the world.”

“Nuh-uh! You’re fibbing.”

“Uh-huh! I’m not lying to you, I swear! I discovered it about a year ago, and I’ve been doing it ever since.”

“You’re not trying to trick me into putting my fingers where I pee, and then you make fun of me? Cause that’s sure what it sounds like.”

“No, damn it! I’m trying to do you a big favor here, to show you how to have an orgasm.”

“Wait, wait – I’ve heard that word before. What’s an orgasm…? It’s a grownup thing, right?”

“It’s that amazing feeling I was telling you about. See, I didn’t know about orgasms until last year. I figure if you find out about them now, you can start having fun earlier than I did.” I shrugged.” But if you aren’t interested, never mind. Maybe you aren’t even old enough.”

That got her attention. She still seemed somewhat suspicious, but by then her curiosity was aroused. And nothing got Wendy’s ire up quicker than being told she wasn’t old enough to try something.

“Well… okay. What should I do?”

“Just touch your privates.”

“Um, will it hurt?”

“Does wiping yourself hurt?”

“No, I guess not.”

“Okay, then. Here, tell you what – I’ll give you a demonstration.” I tucked a hand between my legs and began to finger my clit. Talking about this with Wendy had me all worked up and needing to come. And I had to hurry, cause Mom would be knocking on the door soon, ordering us to get out before we used up all the hot water.

Wendy watched me for a moment, then reached down to lightly fondle her own slit, trying to copy what I was doing. After a minute or so, I asked, “Doesn’t that feel good?”

She just nodded, focused on rubbing herself.

“Touch near the top. That’s where it feels best.”

She fumbled about some, but didn’t locate her clit. “Where near the top?”

That’s what I was hoping she’d say! “Can I show you?” I said, my heart beginning to race.

Wendy nodded, and my hand joined hers. After a moment, she withdrew her fingers, letting me take over. I began to rub her clit. I could tell from her reaction that she was enjoying my touch. It wasn’t like my sister went into orbit, but now she knew I hadn’t been kidding about those good feelings. I felt her move to the rhythm of my fingers, her breath growing ragged.

“You like this?” I said, my lips brushing her ear.

She nodded, then gasped, “K-keep going!”

“Okay,” I said, “but you need to touch me the same way. It’s hard to do it to both of us at the same time.”

I half-expected her to refuse. Instead, Wendy reached out, found my pussy with her fingers and began to rub me. She was clumsy, but it felt lovely. After a moment, I guided her to my clit. “Right there, Wendy… oh, yeah, just like that.”

Her brow was furrowed as she concentrated on the task. “That little bump, right?”

“Yeah,” I sighed. Wow, my first ever time getting touched by someone else, and that certain someone was my six-year-old sister! Life certainly takes on some weird, wonderful routes, doesn’t it?

So Wendy and I stood beneath the warm water for the next couple of minutes, eagerly masturbating each other, getting more and more excited.

“Am I doing it right?” Wendy panted.

“Totally. Just keep rubbing my pussy like you’re doing it now.”

Her hand paused. “Pussy?”

“Yeah, that’s what older girls call it.”

“Oh… so that’s what it means,” she giggled.

That’s when I went over the edge. Oh my God, it was incredible, better than any orgasm I’d ever had. “Don’t s-stop, Wendy,” I blurted, “oh shit, don’t stop!”

The shower curtain was snatched back, unveiling what must’ve been one hell of a tableau: me with my fingers in my sister’s pussy and Wendy rubbing mine. My mother was standing there, her face frozen in shock. Unfortunately, it was too late for me to stop coming, so I had an orgasm right in front of Mom. Wendy was rooted to the spot, still touching my cunt until she noticed where her hand was and yanked it away.

“What are you two doing?” my mother cried. Then she said, “Never mind, I can see for myself. Get out, both of you. Dry yourselves off and come to Riley’s room.” With that, she walked out and shut the door behind, leaving two very shaken girls behind. We were terrified, and I was also upset that I hadn’t made Wendy come. I figured after this, I’d never get another chance.

When we entered my bedroom, Mom seemed calmer than she’d been moments earlier. Wendy and I were still naked, except for the bath towels wrapped around our bodies. Our mother was seated in my desk chair, turned to face the bed. “Have a seat,” she muttered, indicating the foot of the bed. We obeyed without a murmur

Looking at me, Mom spoke, “Where did you learn about that?”

“Um… touching?” I asked, more to stall for time than anything else.

“Yes. That kind of touching.”

“On the computer.” I’d considered lying, but couldn’t come up with anything believable.

“Where on the computer? Show me.”

I got up, and as I did, my towel slipped to the floor. I bent to pick it up when my mother said, “Don’t bother with that. I’ve seen you naked before.” She paused. “Like in the shower just now, having sex with your sister.”

I saw Wendy’s eyes widen as Mom’s words sank in. Yeah, we’d been having sex, but she hadn’t known that’s what it was.

“Don’t blame Wendy, Mom,” I said, forcing myself to meet her stern gaze. “It was my idea. She thought it was a, a game I was playing.”

My mother’s expression softened a bit, but her only response was to point at my PC. “Show me.”

Sitting naked at my computer, I logged on and went to Pornhub. There, I quickly and easily found a video of a girl masturbating. After bringing it up, I glanced at my mom, who wasn’t looking at me but at the  screen, watching the girl give herself pleasure.

“You watch these movies?” she finally said.

I couldn’t very well say I didn’t. “Yes.”

“Then what?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what do you do while you’re watching?”

I was stunned by the question, and puzzled why Mom wasn’t yelling her head off. Struggling for the right words, I finally gave up and I pointed at the movie that was playing, showing the girl as she masturbated herself to a wonderful orgasm. “Um… that.”

Mom turned to Wendy, who was entranced by the video. She’d never seen anything like it before, I’m sure. “What about you? Do you watch these, too?”

An astonished Wendy looked at our mom and said, “No. Not until now.” Then her gaze returned immediately to the video of the girl, who was now in the throes of a massive, self-induced orgasm.

Mom seemed as enthralled as Wendy did. That’s when it hit me. This was turning her on! My mother was getting excited, sitting in my bedroom with her naked daughters and watching porn.

When the video ended, Mom moved to the keyboard and called up the history of the websites I’d visited. A lot of them were links to lesbian videos. She clicked one at random, and two girls who looked to be barely eighteen were having sex, a redhead and a blonde.

I stood there, still naked, as the video played. I’d come once in the shower, but these videos were making me horny all over again. I glanced at Wendy, and she was touching herself again, her towel bunched around her butt where she sat. Her body was fully exposed now. I’m not sure my sister was even aware that she’d begun to masturbate.

Mom was clearly enjoying the video, too. Her eyes seemed sort of glazed over, which was something I recognized from the videos when the women got really horny. Her breathing was kind of erratic, too. I suspected that if Wendy and I weren’t there, she’d be taking off her clothes and masturbating.

“Mom?” I finally said.

Her head jerked around to me. She looked surprised that I was there, as if she’d lost herself completely watching two girls fuck.

“What, sweetheart?”

“Are we… are we grounded?”

She looked from me to Wendy, her eyes widening slightly when she registered what her six-year-old was doing. Wendy seemed to be in her own world as she watched the two girls. The blonde was kneeling over the redhead’s face, pressing her pussy to her lover’s mouth. Mom looked back at me, started to speak, and then glanced at Wendy again. Turning to me, she said, “What?”

“Are we grounded?”

“Umm… no. No, you’re not grounded.”

I was suddenly worried about my mother. This didn’t make sense. I found myself almost wishing we were getting grounded. I had to know why she’d decided not to.

“Why not?”

She looked at me, then back at Wendy before returning her gaze to me, but not before glancing at the movie once more.

She took a deep breath and said, “Girls, if I tell you something private, do you swear never to tell anyone else? Not ever?”

“Sure,” I said, wondering what in the world she had to say that had to be kept a secret forever.

“Uh-huh,” Wendy panted, still masturbating.

“I was surprised when I saw what you were doing in the bathroom with Wendy because… well… because I used to do those same things with my sister.”

Okay, that knocked me for a loop. “Aunt Lisa?” I gasped.

“Yes, sweetie. Your Aunt Lisa.”

“Whoa,” said Wendy, so startled by Mom’s revelation that she’d paused her hand. “Did you guys, um, do stuff like that?” She pointed at the screen with her free hand. By then, the blonde was stretched out between the redhead’s thighs, feasting on her cunt.

Mom nodded slowly. “Yes… yes, we did. Lisa and I did pretty much everything two girls could do in bed. We were lovers.”

Wendy gave me a look. I knew she was wondering if I was trying to do something like that with her. She didn’t look too upset about it, either.

Right then, though, I had Mom to contend with. “Then you’re, uh, not mad at us?”

“No. I’m just…”

She fell silent, unable to say more, so I prompted her.

“Just… what?”

She nodded toward the screen. “This brings back a lot of memories for me. Good memories. Lisa and I loved the things we shared, so… who am I to cheat you and Wendy from enjoying what we had? After all, it’s perfectly normal for girls to experiment, even if they are sisters.”

Mom fell silent as she and I watched Wendy, who was working herself toward her first orgasm. I wasn’t sure what was turning my sister on more – the video, or the revelation that Mom and our aunt had been lovers, just like the girls on the screen.

Mom took my hand; gave it a squeeze. “From now on, the two of you can play like that together, any time you like. I won’t even put a block on these websites.”

“Oohhh!” Wendy squealed, her body jerking as she came. “Oh… oh, Mom!” She rubbed her slit frantically for another minute or so, then let her breath out in one great whoosh, sinking into the bed. Her legs were parted, her glistening cunt on display. I longed to put my mouth on her, to taste my baby sister’s wetness.

“Well, I’ll give you girls some privacy,” Mom said. She stood up.

I didn’t want her to go. “Mom?”

“Yes?”

“You – you’re going to masturbate now, huh?”

She blushed. “Yes.”

“Are you going to tell Aunt Lisa about this?”

She smiled. “Yes, sweetie. In fact, I’m going to call her while I masturbate. Lisa and I still have phone sex every now and then. She’ll be incredibly turned on, you know.”

“She will?”

“Yes. Because she has sexual fantasies about you. Wendy, too.”

That was a piece of news. Aunt Lisa had sex thoughts about us? I could only stare, and my sister’s head popped right up, her mouth hanging open.

My head spun as I tried to process all of this. Then something else occurred to me, and I had to find out if my hunch was correct. So I just blurted out, “Um, Mom? Do you feel that way about us…?”

Wendy chimed in. “Yeah, do you, Mommy?” Her eyes were bright and eager, as if she loved the idea.

Mom paused, closing her eyes for a moment, then softly said, “Yes, girls. I have to admit that I do.” She paused. “Especially now.” Looking down at me, she said, “Why don’t you help your sister out, show her some things?” She peered at the computer screen, where the two girls were now engaged in a sixty-nine. “Maybe you could teach her that.”

Wendy and I stared at the video, then at each other, while Mom quietly slipped out of the room. A few minutes later, we could hear her on the phone with Aunt Lisa. Even though she left the door open, we couldn’t really make out their conversation, but hearing her moan louder as she got more and more excited made up for it. I have to admit, we enjoyed listening to Mom masturbate while Wendy and I had our own fun.

***

Q: So you took your mother’s advice and taught your sister to sixty-nine?

A: You bet I did! But we built up to that part first, with a lot of kissing and touching. I’m an old-fashioned girl that way, I guess.

W (Wendy): It was amazing, too. Fifteen minutes earlier, I didn’t even know girls ever put their mouths on each other like that… then there I was, going down on my sister while she licked me! I wasn’t sure how I’d feel about the taste of pussy… but I ended up liking it a lot. After that, I was a confirmed lesbian. To this day, I’ve never had sex with a man.

A: That isn’t the whole story, though. By the time Wendy and I had finished, Mom was standing naked in my bedroom doorway, watching us.

W: Know what I did then? Jumped up, ran over to Mom and grabbed her hand, then I led her over to the bed, where Riley was. I asked her if she would teach us more about sex with girls.

A: Mom was all flustered – but honestly, what did she expect? I mean, she’s the one who admitted to fantasizing about Wendy and me… then we catch her standing there stark naked, watching us fuck? I mean, get real! (laughs) Anyhow, Mom tried to say no, it wasn’t a good idea… but she didn’t reckon with Wendy. My little sister can be pret-ty stubborn about getting what she wants!

W: Yep, I’m irresistible. Once I sat Mom down and started licking her pussy, it was ‘Game Over’.

A: The three of us were fucking on a regular basis after that. A couple of weeks later, Aunt Lisa joined in, which was totally awesome. And a few years after that, we brought Lacey into the fold. (She tousles her youngest sister’s hair.) When she turned four, Mom said it was time for her to learn ‘the ways of pleasure’.

Q: (Turning to Lacey) What was that like?

L (Lacey): You know, I was so young I can’t remember very well, except that it was my best birthday ever. I love my mom and my sisters soooo much!

A: Aww… we love you too, baby girl.

L: Well, in that case…

***

At that point, Lacey stood and began taking off her clothes. Wendy and Riley exchanged smiles, then did the same. Stepping out of panties, Riley smiled at me and said, “You can watch, or join in.”

Needless to say, I didn’t choose to watch.

“Let’s go into my bedroom. It’s more comfortable,” I said when we were all naked.

As we padded down the hallway, Riley said, “Do you have sex with all the women you interview for your dissertation? Bet I would!”

“What do you think?” I asked. She flashed me a wicked grin.

Wendy spoke up. “I would, too.”

“And me!” Lacey added. Clambering onto the bed, she spread her legs. “Who wants to lick my pussy?”

“I do!” Wendy said.

She climbed on the bed to join her little sister, but Riley stopped her. “I think Suzanne should get the first turn with each of us. Then we can have a free-for-all.”

As you might guess, I was fully on board with that idea.

Lacey was spread out and ready, so I knelt between her parted legs. My heart was beating like thunder as I gazed adoringly at the twelve-year-old’s pussy. She had thin wisps of red pubic hair framing her slit, with a tiny tuft of it at the top. Her pubes were fairly sparse, leading me to believe she hadn’t started growing them until fairly recently. Her inner labia were narrow, barely concealing the nub of her clit.

I was amazed at how juicy this girl was for her age, her sex glistening with wetness. Clearly, all our talk about her family’s lesbian experiences had got her primed and ready for sex.

I eased the tip of a finger into Lacey’s vagina, gathering some of the thick cream and smearing it all over her vulva. She squirmed and panted before whimpering, “Please, eat me…”

Drawing closer, I pressed my mouth to the preteen’s pussy, then penetrated her with my tongue. She sank back into the pillow with a satisfied moan, but I roused her soon enough when I got down to some serious licking.

I figured at her age, it might take a while for Lacey to come, and I honestly doubted she could have multiple orgasms. How wrong I was. I’d neglected to take the girl’s years of experience into account. In just a couple of minutes, Lacey was coming, and coming hard. She moaned ecstatically through her orgasm as I gorged on the liquid sugar that flowed from her cunt.

I began to raise my head, expecting either Wendy or Riley to take her sister’s place, but Lacey reached out with both hands to seize my ears. I was startled, but at least it wasn’t a painful grip, just firm enough to keep me right where I was.

She began grinding her cunt into my face, thrusting her hips. I got the idea right away, and started using my mouth and tongue to pleasure the girl as best I could until Lacey exploded into another orgasm, followed less than a minute later by a third climax. The twelve-year-old was howling like a banshee as she rocked against my mouth. My nose was chafed a bit by that tuft of red hair at the top of her mons, but it was worth it just for the experience. I’d never made a lover come with such intensity.

Lacey finally let me go, and I sat back, winded and dazed. Observing my expression, a grinning Riley said, “Sorry about that; I really should’ve warned you. My baby sister is an orgasm machine. I’ve seen her come fifteen times in a row, just using her fingers.”

“She rested for a minute, then came another ten times!” Wendy added, giggling.

“Oh, shut up, both of you. It wasn’t that many,” Lacey protested. “And I asked you to stop calling me ‘baby sister’, Riley.”

“Sorry, sorry. I keep forgetting,” Riley said, giving me a wink her younger sibling couldn’t see.

I wasn’t exactly listening… more staring in disbelief to see Lacey working her pussy with both hands as she sparred with Riley. Less than sixty seconds later, she came again. That seemed to satisfy her for the moment, so she closed her eyes and relaxed.

“My turn,” Wendy said, forcing Lacey to scoot over to one side.

“Are you the same way?” I asked her, gesturing at Lacey.

Wendy grinned at me and said, “Well, I won’t grab you by the ears… but I do expect to have several orgasms. Oh, and Riley will want at least three, too.”

I glanced over at Riley, who was now positioning herself to give oral to her youngest sister, so I figured Lacey wasn’t finished after all. I shook my head in awe of this family’s boundless sex drive.

Before she began to lick Lacey, Riley said, “And when you’re done with us, we’ll pitch in and give you as many orgasms as you can stand.” With a wink, she added, “Maybe more.”

So I went down on Wendy, marveling at the amount of pussy juices she was producing. Not only were these girls total sex fiends, they were also veritable fountains of cunt honey… a scenario to make my mouth water. Back in my undergraduate days, I sometimes attended lesbian orgies where I would joyfully service every woman there with my mouth as many times as they liked, eating pussy until I could barely move my jaw. Now, it appeared that I would slake my thirst for cunt with a mere trio of lovers. How lucky could a girl be?

I paused to inhale deeply, taking in the thick, musky aroma, allowing it to tickle my nose before I returned to licking her. The scent had promised a delicious flavor, and her pussy was as advertised.

I could hear Riley bringing Lacey to yet another orgasm. Her seventh? Eighth? I’d lost count. Besides, I was focused more on Wendy, who was moaning right along with her little sister. Pressing my mouth against her slit, I allowed my tongue to trace it up and down, A few licks later, I thrust into Wendy’s vagina and tongue-fucked her until I was out of breath. I raised my head, placed two fingers against her opening, then penetrated her, plunging in and out until she was very close to coming.

For my grande finale, I curled my fingers upwards toward her pubic bone, seeking Wendy’s g-spot. I’m not positive I found that magic place, but she was bucking and moaning as if the world’s biggest orgasm was lurking just around the corner. And it really must have been, because Wendy went off like a bomb just a few seconds later. She thrashed about like a fish on a line, but I did my best to stay with her for the entire crazy ride, flicking her clit with my tongue until she was coming again.

After her third orgasm, I simply had to take a breather. While I did, Wendy got to her knees and more or less pounced on Lacey, while Riley spread herself out before me, awaiting her turn. As I lowered my mouth to her cunt, Lacey and Wendy shifted into a sixty-nine. Going down on Riley, I was serenaded by the frantic lovemaking of the younger girls.

I’d never seen anything like it. These three were the wildest lovers I’d ever had, including older lesbians with many more years of experience to draw on. I was beginning to wonder if I had the stamina to keep up with them. Could too much sex prove to be fatal? I asked myself, realizing I just might have the chance to find out first hand.

Riley’s mons was shaved, so she was as smooth there as a child… and she was visibly aroused, her cunt dripping with the nectar that I craved. I licked it up and let the taste overwhelm me, her essence flowing down my throat like warm honey. A feast for the gods.

Using both thumbs, I spread Riley’s labia until the small pearl of her clit popped up from her folds. Leaning in, I flicked my tongue across the firm button of flesh that peeked out so enticingly, getting an immediate response from Riley. She cried, “Oh, fuck, yes!” Her hips jerked and bucked, and she launched into her first orgasm of the day… the first that I was aware of, anyhow.

I decided to put my fingers into her cunt while I ate her, just as I’d done with Wendy. Once I entered up to the third knuckle, Riley exploded in a second climax. I didn’t withdraw, figuring that I’d see just how many orgasms this sexy bitch could take. Pushing her knees up to her chest, I dipped my tongue between Riley’s buttocks and began to pleasure her anus, still driving my fingers in and out of her sodden cunt.

I felt something brush my hand, and looked up to see Riley rubbing her clit while I had my way with her holes. She soon came for a third time. Saying goodbye to her rosebud with a tender kiss, I rolled onto my back, exhausted from the effort involved in bringing three insatiable lesbians to multiple orgasms.

Lying there in a daze, I heard Wendy and Lacey moaning through mutual climaxes. Nice work if you can get it, I thought. My cunt was throbbing with the need for release, but right then, it felt good to relax.

That’s when I heard Riley speak up. “Okay, girls, it’s payback time. Let’s fuck Suzanne until she begs us to stop!”

With that, the three sisters more or less threw themselves on me, all shrieking with laughter.

Lacey was at my breasts, licking, sucking, and nibbling them. Then she found my mouth with hers, and we exchanged heated kisses while she felt me up. She kept shifting from kissing me to burying her face in my tits, as if unable to decide which she enjoyed more.

Riley and Wendy slipped a pillow beneath my hips, propping me up far enough that they had full access to my nether regions. Wendy started with my butthole while Riley lavished attention on my pussy, and they both took turns putting fingers into my vagina. I was so wet that it almost embarrassed me to hear the sounds of squishing and squelching that my cunt made when they fucked me. Wendy and Riley also took turns fingering my rectum, and when they penetrated me in both holes at the same time, it made me come so hard that I passed out.

I was quick to awaken, though, and regained consciousness to find my lovers had swapped places. Now I was getting rimmed by Riley while Lacey went down on me, and Wendy rained kisses on my breasts. I soon exploded again.

After I came twice while these beautiful sisters gave me immense pleasure, everyone moved, and Lacey and Riley were at my pussy and butthole while Wendy worked on my tits. I came a third time, and the girls switched again, with Riley now at my boobs and kissing me while her younger siblings worked me down below. And so it went.

After my fifth orgasm, I’d been pushed to the limit. “Enough! Enough!” I gasped as my last orgasm peaked. Thankfully, they listened to me. I half-expected Riley and her sisters to keep going until I burst into tears.

We lay together in a heated tangle. I struggled to catch my breath, my body glazed in sweat, working to dredge up the strength to get to my feet. Eventually, we four managed to accomplish that much, and the girls began to get dressed. I didn’t bother.

“I wish we could stay the night,” Lacey said.

“I don’t know that I’d still be alive in the morning if you did,” I replied with a weary laugh. “I think my heart might give out. You three have the most intense sexual appetites I’ve ever encountered.”

“We come by it naturally,” Riley said. “Our mother still has at least two orgasms every day.”

That intrigued me. “Was she like that before you and Wendy first had sex with her?”

“Oh, yes – though of course, we didn’t know it at the time. She’s confessed quite a lot of personal stuff to us since then.”

“Like?” I asked, curious.

“Let’s just say she’s had sex with nearly every woman and girl in her family, starting when she was seven. So my sisters and I are part of a long-standing tradition. Mom’s been with a few of the men, too, though she’s mostly queer, like us. I think she’s just really, really into incest.”

“Sounds like a woman I should interview,” I said, absently cupping a breast.

Riley pursed her lips, considering it. “Maybe, but I don’t know. Mom’s very private about her sex life.”

“I understand,” I said. “Anyway, thank you all for coming over and answering my questions. And the rest of it, of course. I don’t think I’ll have any sensation in my cunt for at least a week.”

“Thanks, Suzanne, for letting us share your bed,” Riley said. “Any time you want a repeat performance, just give me a call. You almost kept up with us. Not many women can do that.”

As I kissed them all goodbye I felt sorry for my neighbor Hannah, because she’d missed out on one hell of an amazing afternoon. I decided to tell her Riley and her sisters had cancelled our interview; otherwise, I’d never hear the end of it. Then again, she was visiting her sister, one with an eleven-year-old daughter who had already engaged in some sex play with Hannah and her own mother. I’d have to look into whether the three of them might be interested in sitting for an interview.

***

Conclusion

After interviewing women who have been enjoying sex from a very young age, as well as considering my own propensity to pursue sexual activity wherever and whenever I could from an early age, I have come to conclusions that will be less than eagerly received in the scientific community.

Shame, it appears, is more the product of society and its strictures than any sense of inner guilt. When children are in a situation in which they are not made to feel shame or guilt over what is essentially a natural act, they have a far healthier attitude about sex and sexuality in general. It is the admonitions of the church, society and moralistic adults that cause the child to feel ashamed for what should be thought of as natural curiosity

If, however, the child is taught that such acts are normal and often healthy (especially when accompanied by sound advice on practicing safe sex), they find the act of arousal and fulfillment to be pleasurable and relaxing, much as adults do. Masturbation is seen as the beneficial practice that it is. Sexual involvement with others is no longer assumed to be harmful.

(It should be noted that this does NOT apply to times when children are made or manipulated into having sex against their will. In these cases, the psychological results are quite different. Shame, embarrassment, self-loathing, and attempts to cause self-harm can be a common result in such cases.)

While these interviews, for the most part, only covered lesbian sex, my conclusion was that heterosexual activity seemed to achieve the same results. If the child is a willing participant, no shame or guilt was experienced unless their sexual activity was found out by an adult who admonished them for it. If, however, the sex was forced or abusive, no such beneficial feelings resulted. This was true in every case, regardless of the child’s gender.

NOTE: Two interviews in which the outcome was not beneficial for the child are not part of this report, but are included in the final dissertation.

The End

The Evil That Men Do, Chapter 16

  • Posted on April 24, 2026 at 2:18 pm

The Story Thus Far

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter Twelve: A sleepover is in progress at Terry’s place while he is out. When the girls retire to their rooms, Halee phones her girlfriend Bethany and puts her on speaker to hear her younger sister Naomi and Chelsey going at it through their adjoining walls, and a good time is had by all. Upon returning home, Terry does some work on an idea for a new novel after months of inaction. Mallory is still unsure what to do with the family farm, and Nettie runs some ideas about the recent kidnapping case past Agent Ramscone.

Chapter Thirteen: Four members of the Pussy Posse — Mallory, Julie, Jamie, and Emma — are spending quality time together, along with Julie’s younger sister Vicky. News, gossip, memories, and innuendo are bandied about. Vicky hesitantly speaks of a recent sleepover where she overheard a couple of the girls saying hurtful things about her, an incident that still stings badly. The four women offer her comfort and understanding, which soon becomes something more.

Chapter Fourteen: Mallory, Julie, Jamie, Emma and Julie’s younger sister Vicky are having a barbecue and sleepover. Vicky loves hanging out with the Pussy Posse, but feels a little self-conscious, knowing that the women will very likely be having group sex later that evening. But Julie boldly her sister to join the sapphic festivities. Vicky is hesitant at first, especially at the prospect of coupling with her older sibling, but Julie manages to put her at ease. The four women and one teen adjourn for the master bedroom. Clothes are removed, bare bodies mingle, pleasure is shared.

Chapter Fifteen: Halee and her new girlfriend Bethany (daughter of Nettie’s lover Hannah), spend time roaming the town, getting to know one another better. Later on, they spend time together in a more intimate way. Meanwhile, Mallory and her partner Julie get a piece of surprising, potentially life-changing news.

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

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

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

by Rachael Yukey

Waiting for a new day
To wipe away
The uncertainty that flows around me
Once again to stay
Stratovarius (1996)

“It’s borderline, Antoinette,” said Hannah, shaking her head. “He’s managing his airway right now, but I don’t know how it’s going to be in an hour. And with that mask anxiety—”

“I’ll save you the trouble, Hannah. Either your CRNA can intubate him before I leave, or I’m going to. We both know it’s probably gonna have to happen, and it’s way safer to do it here than on the highway.”

Hannah pursed her lips. This hasty three-way consultation was being held in the hallway outside the stabilization room in the Johnstown emergency department. The third party was Dr. Murphey, an attractive blonde in her late thirties. She was the emergency department physician on duty.

“I agree with Nettie,” said Dr. Murphey. “The safest option is to just put his lights out and secure his airway before they go.”

“Fair enough,” said Hannah. “This is a new environment for me. At Children’s, we were getting patients from other facilities, not sending them out. If we were keeping him here I’d want to watch him for awhile before resorting to a tube, but if you ladies think pre-emptive RSI is the best option for transport, then that’s what I think, too. We’ll get it rolling for you.”

She inclined her head in Dr. Murphey’s direction. “It’s really your decision anyway. Your ER, doctor.”

“In a way, it’s Nettie’s decision more than mine. She’s the one who’s going to be managing him for the next three hours. This isn’t a level of trust I extend to just any paramedic, but if Nettie wants a tube before she rolls, we drop a tube. Anyway, it sounds like we’re all on the same page.”

Hannah slid the stabe room door open a few inches. “Jordan.”

Her nurse anesthetist looked up from the medication kit he was sifting through. “Yes, doctor?”

“We’re going with the tube. Are you set up?”

“More or less. What meds you want?”

Hannah looked to Nettie. “I’m thinking Ketamine and Roc. Does that jell with your treatment plan for transport?”

“Works for me,” Nettie replied. “I’ll be running a Ketamine drip for sedation maintenance anyway.”

“Perfect.”

Pushing the door the rest of the way open, Hannah disappeared into the room. Nettie unclipped the badge from her belt and tossed it in the general direction of her EMT partner, who’d been leaning against the wall off to the side while Nettie and the two doctors held their consultation. It was a bad throw, but Dana Frasier managed to pluck it from the air anyhow.

“I take it you want the narcs out of the truck?” said Dana. Her face was a mass of freckles under an amazing shock of red hair.

“Correct. This just went from BiPAP to intubated. Also, grab the ALS bag; I’m gonna need to hang a couple of drips.”

“Got it.”

Turning to the ambulance cot, which was currently laden with supplies and equipment, Nettie switched on the vent, catching a passing nurse by the sleeve with the other hand. “Lexi, I’m gonna need his height in inches, and his weight in kilos.”

Alexis Traynor disappeared back into the nurses station, returning moments later with some numbers scribbled on a scrap of paper. Consulting a chart, Nettie calculated the tidal volume she wanted, entering the parameters into the ventilator. Dana returned with the requested items, and Nettie busied herself drawing up meds and mixing a couple of bags. As she worked, she gave Dana, who had never participated in a ventilated transfer, a rapid-fire rundown of what she was doing and why.

Setting the last of her syringes aside, she peeked inside the room. Hannah spoke softly to the patient, then pushed the plunger on the syringe attached to the IV tubing.

Nettie tapped Dana’s shoulder. “Dr. Fletcher just pushed the sedative,” she murmured. “She’ll do the paralytic in a minute or two, then Jordan over there will drop the tube. You can go in and watch if you want; Jordan’ll probably even offer to let you assist. If he doesn’t, just stay quiet and out of the way.”

With a brief nod, Dana slipped by, leaving Nettie to take a couple of deep breaths, preparing herself for the three-hour one-way ride ahead. Getting stuck on a transfer on a Sunday night backup shift sucked to begin with, and a seven or eight-hour round-trip vented transfer departing at nine PM sucked even harder.

Her phone went off. Digging in the pocket of her tactical pants, Nettie pulled it out, hastily silencing the ringer. Studying the screen, she raised an eyebrow. Why the hell would Julie be calling at this hour?

She swiped the accept button. “Hi, Julie. I only have a minute. What’s up?”

“Oh,” said Julie, seemingly taken aback. “Um, that’s okay, Nettie. Can I call you in the morning?”

“Actually—” Nettie thought fast. “I might be able to call you back in half an hour or so. Would that be okay?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to. If you don’t hear from me, call in the morning.”

“Okay, that works,” said Julie.

Peering into the stabe room, Nettie saw a nurse preoxygenating with a bag valve mask, and Jordan the CRNA taking up his video laryngoscope. Dana was standing beside him, holding an ET tube with a preloaded bougie in a gloved hand. Only a minute or two until showtime.

“Gotta go,” said Nettie. “I’ll call back if I can.”

***

Nettie adjusted the rate on the ventilator, then tweaked the inspiratory time to get the ratio she wanted. Sitting back, she perused her equipment. Just over twenty minutes into the trip, things seemed to be settling into a steady flow. The patient was comfortably sedated, the vent was working flawlessly, and all the vital signs were well within the bounds of normal. She was down to minor tweaks now, and with luck the situation would remain stable for the next few hours. Making a quick note of the changes she’d just made, Nettie fished out her phone.

Julie picked up on the first ring. “Hi, Nettie. You’re on speaker with me and Mallory.”

“Hey Mal,” said Nettie. The vent beeped. Nettie flicked her eyes to the display, then dismissed the alarm.

“Where are you, anyway?” Julie wanted to know. “I’m hearing weird noises on your end.”

“In the back of an ambulance with an intubated transfer patient. We were just getting set up to take him when you called before.”

“Oh, hon—we didn’t mean to bug you at work.”

“No bother,” said Nettie. “I’m down to just keeping an eye on things for the next couple hours. What’s up?”

“We’re coming to Bronning tomorrow.”

Nettie blinked in surprise. “Uh—I don’t know how much time I’m gonna have over the next day or two—”

Mallory spoke up. “We’re coming for a different reason this time. We want to see you, but we’re driving up either way.”

“Well—okay. You can stay at my place if you want, I just might not be there the whole time.”

“We don’t want to impose,” said Julie. “We can stay someplace in Johnstown or—”

“Absolutely not,” Nettie said firmly. “If you’re in town, my house is your house. Always.”

“Thanks, hon,” said Mallory. She sounded strangely subdued.

“Is everything okay…?” Nettie ventured.

“You might as well know,” Mallory replied, her voice stronger now. “I’m pregnant.”

Nettie’s breath caught in her throat. “Terry?!”

“Yeah. He doesn’t know yet.”

“Holy fucking hell. I suppose you’re coming up here to talk to him, then.”

“That’s right,” said Julie. “Or Mal is, anyway. I’m mostly coming for moral support. But it’d be awesome if you have time to hang. If not, we get it. We didn’t really give you any notice.”

Nettie chewed on the inside of her cheek. “I’m gonna be out all night on this goddamn transfer, so I’ll probably be sleeping for a good chunk of tomorrow. Tell you what—I’ll leave my door open, and you guys can just come in. You know where the kitchen and the bedrooms are. I have some stuff going on over the next couple of days, but we’ll make time to do something.”

“Thanks, Nettie,” said Mallory. “If you can spare a few hours, I hope you’ll let us take you and Hannah to dinner. Least we can do.”

“Don’t sweat it. You gonna be okay, Mallory?”

“I’m fine. We’ll let you get back to work. See you sometime tomorrow, okay?”

“Sounds good. See you.” Nettie killed the connection, giving her head a hard shake. Unsure how to process what she’d just been told, she forced her mind back to the task at hand.

***

“Let me guess: you’re pregnant.”

Mallory froze in her tracks, her mouth dropping open. She and Terry were strolling along the same bike trail that Bethany and Halee had ridden days before. Terry checked his own forward motion, turning to face her.

Mallory found her voice. “Did—did Nettie talk to you?”

Terry’s eyebrows went up. “Nettie knows?”

“Her and Julie—no one else. But if she didn’t tell you—”

Terry resumed walking. Taking two fast steps to catch up, Mallory fell in beside him. “It was simple logic,” he said. “You called me up this morning to inform me that you’re on your way to Bronning, and there’s something we need to talk about, just as soon as I’m available. Considering that our history consists of little more than a rather sensational one-night stand which took place roughly a month ago, I could think of damn few points of discussion that would warrant a three-hour drive to facilitate an in-person conversation.”

Mallory elbowed him in the side and giggled. “Jesus. You really do always talk like that.”

They rounded a bend, and one of the park benches placed on the side of the trail at regular intervals came into view. Terry indicated it with a wave. “Pull up a chair?” Mallory sat, and Terry settled in beside her.

“So you’re pregnant,” he said. “And I imagine you’re reasonably sure it’s mine, or we wouldn’t be sitting here.”

“One hundred percent sure,” she said. “It’s been like two years since the last time I was in bed with a man.”

“I’m flattered. You’re sure about the pregnancy?”

Mallory bit her lip. “I haven’t been to the clinic yet,” she admitted. “But—” She began ticking items off on her fingers. “I’m never, ever late with my periods, the at-home tests were all positive, and I’ve been feeling—well, different for a couple of weeks and change. I knew something was up. I think somewhere in the back of my mind, part of me might have even known what it was. Believe it or not, I haven’t had a drink since the weekend we hooked up. It just sounded completely unappetizing to me.”

Terry nodded. “Given all those factors, I see little reason to doubt the reality of the situation. I can only assume that a critical mission failure occurred in the quality control department of the Trojan factory, because we certainly put their products to considerable use. That said—can I assume you’re planning a clinic visit soon?”

“I made an appointment in Johnstown for tomorrow morning. Wanna come with?”

“I might. Assuming that what we both believe to be true is confirmed, may I ask your intentions? If you were simply planning to abort and have done with it, I have to think this conversation would not be taking place.”

Mallory looked down at her hands. “I honestly don’t know. Having kids isn’t something I’ve given much thought to. It’s funny—when I told Julie yesterday, she was way more prepared for the conversation than I was. Seems she’s been thinking about how we’d handle it ever since I first started exploring my bisexuality. But that’s Julie for you. Contingencies are her thing. No matter what comes up, she’s got a plan for it.”

“That tallies with the impressions I formed on admittedly short acquaintance. What were her thoughts?”

“That if I want to keep it, we can mom together. If I don’t, she’ll support my decision.”

“That’s one hell of a partner you’ve got there.”

Mallory smiled. “You don’t know the half of it.” She met his eyes. “You’re part of this. What outcome would you prefer? If I decide to have it, what role do you see for yourself? Or do you need more time to think?”

Terry placed his hand on her knee, but his gaze drifted to the forest across the path from them. “Obviously,” he said, “whether you have it or not isn’t my decision to make. That said—”

He turned his eyes back to her. “I don’t want you to get an abortion. If you decide that you don’t want to raise a child at this point in your life, my preference would be for you to carry it to term, and I will gladly take things from there. I’m already raising four kids; one more doesn’t seem that much of an additional burden. Certainly, money isn’t an issue, and I wouldn’t expect child support or any other such. You could have as much or as little involvement as you choose.”

Mallory felt her chest loosen a bit. “That wipes out the adoption question, then.”

“It does.”

“And if I do want to raise it?”

Terry pursed his lips, gazing off into the woods again. “Then the situation becomes somewhat less simple, if for no other reason than the fact that I live in Minnesota, and you live in Colorado. I’m not particularly enthused about having a child I rarely interact with, and I suspect you feel the same. With our present living circumstances, a fifty-fifty custody split wouldn’t be even remotely reasonable. I mean, I’ve seen it done, but while it might be fair for the parents, it’s a lousy situation for the kids. I won’t even entertain such an arrangement.”

Mallory placed a hand over the one that he still had resting on her knee. “Then—what?”

Blowing out his breath, Terry looked to the heavens. “I won’t fight you over custody, if that’s what you’re asking. I would simply ask that you allow as much visitation as can be reasonably made to happen, and that’s with my promise that the child will be handsomely supported. If you need anything for her, you have only to ask.”

The corners of Mallory’s lips twitched upwards. “Her?”

Terry flashed her a grin. “Obviously, we have no idea in which direction the genetic pendulum might swing, but historically, my swimmers appear to be aggressively pink.”

Mallory lay her head against his shoulder. “I kind of want a girl.”

“So you do want to keep it. I think I knew that.”

“I think I did, too. At the same time—God, there’s just so many factors. I mean, financially, I’m in great shape to raise a kid. Even if you were a homeless guy on welfare, money wouldn’t be a problem. I’d have to scale back some of my work to make more time, but that’s doable. I guess I’m kind of doubting myself—am I the right person at this point in time to raise this baby?”

“That sort of self-doubt is normal, and in most cases unfounded. I suspect that between Julie and yourself, this kid would be in excellent hands, even if I were in fact an indigent dumpster-dweller. That said—I’m not, and should you decide that you’re not ready, I’ve offered you an off-ramp.”

Mallory lifted her head from his shoulder. “And I appreciate that—it does make a few things simpler. I won’t get an abortion. That’s all I can be sure of right now.”

“For now, that’s good enough. Shall we find our way back to civilization?” Rising from the bench, he offered her his hand.

“Yes, let’s.” Feeling at ease for the first time since she’d realized her period was late, Mallory allowed him to help her to her feet.

***

“Morning, sleepyhead. Coffee?”

Nettie blinked, her half-conscious brain trying and failing to process the sight of her cousin Julie seated in one of her living-room recliners, an expensive-looking gaming laptop perched on her thighs. Then she remembered. Hell, she’d even dropped Julie a text before she crashed. Door’s unlocked, it had read. Help ur selves to anything in kitchen. See u when I wake up.

“Did you just say ‘morning’?” she inquired, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards. It was, in fact, just after two in the afternoon.

“So I can’t tell time,” Julie replied cheerfully, setting her laptop aside and rising to her feet. “I’ll put some coffee on.”

Nettie shook her head to clear it, then plodded across the hall and into the bathroom. When she emerged, Julie was making her way across the open concept space, setting two steaming mugs on the end tables next to the matching recliners.

“Keurigs for starters,” she said. “I started a half pot of the real stuff, too.”

Nettie settled in, taking a cautious sip of the piping-hot beverage. “Thanks. I guess Mal’s having the talk with Terry, then?”

Julie took a sip from her own cup. “Yeah. She met up with the Big Bad Baby Daddy out by the bike trails about an hour ago. I assume they’re still talking.”

Nettie set her cup down, regarding Julie with solemn eyes. “How long have you known?”

“Yesterday evening. It’s just an at-home test so far, but Mal’s periods are never late. I’m pretty sure it’s legit.”

“Does she know what she wants to do?”

“I don’t think so. She’s going to have to stop freaking out before she can make any decisions, I think. I’m hoping talking to Terry helps. How do you think he’s going to take it?”

Nettie lifted her cup again, cradling it in her palms. “It’s hard to tell how Terry takes anything, at least until you really get to know him. He’s good at putting up a front.” She sipped at her coffee. “But I do know this: he’ll want the kid to be born. If Mallory doesn’t want it, he’ll take it with no strings.”

Julie raised her eyebrows. “You think so?”

“Oh, for sure. But what about you, Julie? What do you want? Or are you still processing?”

Julie took a sip of coffee before answering. “I don’t need to process. I’ve been giving this on-and-off thought ever since the first time Mallory fucked a dude, back when we were sixteen.”

Nettie snickered. “You haven’t changed.”

The patented Julie Hansen Room-Brightening Smile emerged. “Nope, not really. Neither has Mal, I guess. I’m always pre-gaming every possible way to go around each corner, and she usually just goes with her feelings. That’s why she’s a musician, and I’m an engineer.”

“I guess. So what do you want her to do, then?”

Julie’s expression became serious. “I want her to keep it. Back when it was still a hypothetical, I just figured we’d raise it together or give it up, and I’d support her either way. Now that it’s a real situation, I want to raise the kid. Pretty damn badly, to be honest. I haven’t told her that yet, and I’m not going to until she has a clearer picture of what she wants.”

Both their heads swiveled at the sound of the front door opening. Mallory stepped in, Terry bringing up the rear.

“Hi, Nettie,” said Mallory, tossing off a quick wave before bending over to take off her shoes. “Did you sleep well?” Straightening, she made it halfway to the love seat before noticing the cups of fresh coffee.

“Ooh—is there more where that came from?” She turned back towards the kitchen, then came to an abrupt halt. “Never mind—none for me. Got anything without caffeine in it, Nettie?”

Nettie felt her eyes crinkle in amusement. “There’s a whole bunch of green tea flavors in the cupboard above the microwave. And to answer your other question, I never even heard you guys come in. When I saw Julie I was all like, what the hell is this bitch doing in my living room?”

With a peal of laughter, Mallory made her way to the kitchen. Terry, having unlaced and removed his hiking boots, made his way inside.

“For my part,” said Terry, “I’ll help myself to caffeine juice, if there is any. Do either of you ladies require a refill?”

Julie held out her mug. Terry crossed the room, plucked it from her hand, then followed Mallory into the kitchen. “Good to see you again, Julie,” he tossed over his shoulder.

“You, too, Terry.”

After handing Julie her freshly refilled cup, Terry made himself comfortable on the love seat. Mallory was right behind him, having gotten a kettle of water going on the stove. She settled onto the couch.

Terry was the one to break the silence. “Mallory tells me you got transfer-fucked last night, Nettie.”

Nettie took a sip of coffee. “Respiratory failure. They were gonna send him on BiPAP, but he ended up intubated. And of course there were no goddamn ICU beds open in St. Cloud or Duluth, so we had to take him all the way down to North Memorial.”

“They couldn’t fly him?”

Nettie rolled her eyes dramatically. “No-go. There was an unconfirmed sighting of a raindrop in southern Brazil, didn’t you hear?”

Julie burst out laughing. “I’ll make sure to tell Dad you said that.”

“Oh, that’s right,” said Terry. “Your father’s a flight paramedic, isn’t he, Julie?”

“Regional ops director for Lifelink,” Julie said, voice still tinged with amusement.

“Anyway, yeah, I got fucked,” Nettie went on. “Even worse, I was on backup. I was supposed to sit on my ass in town and grab 911s if primary got busy, you know? But Gail Andrews was on primary, and she’s still kind of a baby medic. Too green to send on a three-hour BiPAP, let alone an intubated.”

The room fell silent again. “Listen, you guys have stuff to talk about,” said Nettie. “I’ll make myself scarce.”

“We’re not kicking you out of your own living room, Nettie,” said Julie. “We can do this with you here, or if you’d rather we didn’t, we can go for a drive or something.”

“No, it’s okay,” said Nettie. “I need to get dressed, then we’ll go from there. I have to be out for the first part of tomorrow—something I was gonna do today, but fuck that transfer anyway. I’ll be around the rest of the afternoon.” Setting her empty mug aside, she got up, crossed to the hallway, and disappeared into her bedroom.

The three of them gazed at one another, momentarily at a loss for words.

“Before anyone says anything,” Terry said at last, “Mallory’s told me how well you’ve taken this turn of events, and how supportive you’ve been, Julie. She’s lucky to have you.”

The tea kettle began whistling, and Mallory got to her feet, making her way back to the kitchen.

“How are you taking it, Terry?” said Julie. “Are you okay? This has to be kind of a shock.”

Terry’s lips twisted in amusement. “Oh, I’m perfectly fine, thank you. When Mallory called and said she was coming all this way just to talk to me, it didn’t take a genius to work out what it was most likely about. I’ve had a few hours to mull things over.”

He shifted in his seat. “I’ll briefly recap what I told your partner here.” He waved his hand towards Mallory, who was returning with a steaming mug of tea.

“In a nutshell,” he went on, “Should she, or the two of you together, choose to opt out of child-rearing, I will accept full custody upon delivery, with no expectation of financial contribution on your part. If, on the other hand, she does want to keep and raise the baby, I will not engage in a custody battle, and will see to any financial needs. All I ask is that visitation be made as open-ended as reasonably possible.”

He sipped his coffee. “Let me clarify that I would view this as a poor sort of compromise, and welcome any ideas for a more equitable solution. I suggest it only because I don’t see a fifty-fifty custody split as being a fair arrangement for the child, not when the parents live such a considerable distance apart.”

Julie cracked a smile. “Nettie knows you pretty well.”

“Oh?”

“She said that you were going to want the kid, and would take all the responsibility if we wanted to opt out of parenthood.”

Terry chuckled. “Nettie knows a thing or two.”

“Anyway,” Julie went on, “I don’t think I have much to add to that. What you’re offering either way is more than fair—it’s damn generous.”

“What do you want, sweetie?” Mallory said, eyes on her partner. “I mean, you haven’t really said. Do you know yet?”

Julie smiled a tight little smile. “I do know, but until we have a better idea where your head is at, I refuse to make this even a little bit about me. All I’m going to say right this second is that if we decide to raise it, Terry’s right—it kind of sucks to be him. We’ll have to work out some way to fix that.”

Mallory nodded. “Then we’d better start thinking hard, because I’m about ninety percent sure I want it.”

Julie’s smile threatened to take her face off. “Goddamn, I was hoping you’d say that!”

Mallory and Terry burst out laughing. Realizing what she’d said, Julie joined in. Emerging from her bedroom, now fully dressed, Nettie looked from one to the next with lifted brows.

“What’d I miss?”

***

Diary of Mallory Kalvornek, June 27th, 2022

I can’t sleep. Big surprise, huh? Actually, it is, a little, because it’s been a fucking long day.

Overall, a good one, though, which is more than I would have dared to hope for under the circumstances. Terry’s being an absolute peach about everything, which takes a huge amount of the pressure off. No decisions have been made yet, but I’ve managed to rule out abortion. I’m not sure I’d have been able to go through with it, anyway.

I had a bit of a panic attack late this afternoon; got to thinking this pregnancy was all in my head, and I was getting people worked up over nothing. So I ran over to Bronning’s little drugstore and bought three different brands of testers. All three came up positive. So this is totally for realsies—as if I didn’t already know that.

And people are getting worked up, too. Julie, I realized, really wants a kid. I’m not sure she knew that about herself until I put that pee stick in her hand yesterday. But now that a baby in the house is a serious possibility, she’s more excited than I’ve seen her since her masters thesis was accepted. She’s trying to hide it, but I know her too well for that to work.

Julie, Nettie, and I had dinner at Terry’s house this evening. His daughter Halee, heard company was coming, and laid out this huge spread. Holy hell; that girl can cook! I scarfed down way too much, but I’m eating for two, right? Or is it too early to start using that as an excuse? I’m starting to realize that what I know about pregnancy wouldn’t even fill up one of those Planned Parenthood pamphlets. I should probably do something about that. For starters, maybe I ought to pick up a few of those pamphlets.

Anyway—clinic tomorrow morning in Johnstown. Me, Terry, and Julie. Nettie is going to be gone for at least the first half of the day, and she’s being kinda weird about it. Julie asked her what she had going on, and Nettie said she just had some stuff to take care of, in a way that most decidedly did NOT invite further inquiry.

Anyway, if she gets back in time, she’ll be joining us for dinner in Johnstown with Hannah, Terry, Halee, and Hannah’s daughter Bethany. We haven’t met Bethany yet, but she’s Halee’s age, and apparently, they’re girlfriends. Good for them, but in a way, I’m bummed. Being new girlfriends means they’re probably exclusive at the moment, and after hearing all the juicy details of Julie and Cindy’s bedroom tryst with Halee, I was hoping to get a taste of that myself before the summer was out.

And here I go again. I’m a horny little bitch at the best of times, have been since I was eleven, and my sex drive has been especially hyperactive over the past couple of weeks. I guess now I know why! Just the slightest thought of getting it on with Terry’s smart, sexy daughter just pushed me from zero to sixty in ten seconds.

As always in these late-night situations, I’m tempted to wake up Julie—but you know, I rarely do. There’s just something so damn hot about touching myself while I watch my lover sleep. The hand I’m not using to write this is already inside my pajamas, so I guess the choice for tonight has been made. Closing the diary for now…

On to Chapter Seventeen!

1

Down the Rabbit Hole, Chapter 1

  • Posted on April 14, 2026 at 6:17 pm

by BlueJean

Author’s Note

Ever feel like you’ve revealed too much about what goes on inside your head?

The second piece of taboo erotica I ever wrote was a charming story called Little Girl Panties. I began posting it on Lesbian Lolita as I was writing it, back in the days when I was churning out one or two chapters a week. Not much quality control back then, but no one seemed to be complaining.

At some point, I updated the story, but by then I was more interested in the plot-driven fantasy of The Beekeeper’s Daughters and Selkie Days.

When JetBoy expressed an interest in publishing it on Juicy Secrets, I was reluctant. The story has always left me feeling a little more exposed than I’d like. Unlike my other offerings, this one isn’t pretending to be anything other than what it is – porn. No hiding behind lofty tales of witches, selkies and dryads for this grubby little wankfest. 

In the end, I agreed to let it out of the box again, on the condition that it underwent another update. That revision turned into a full rewrite, one I worked on sporadically while I was writing The Beekeeper’s Lament and co-writing The Loves and Labours of Doris Sloane. This new version, retitled Down the Rabbit Hole, starts out the same as the original, but soon veers off into brand new territory, not that it’s ever had much in the way of plot, you understand. 

I think some of you are going to love this new version. Others might find it a tad troubling. Down the Rabbit Hole doesn’t much concern itself with notions of love or affection. It’s devious; hungry. It takes what it wants without a care for the consequences. It doesn’t make excuses, and doesn’t care if you approve or not. 

Down the Rabbit Hole is about how bad decisions can escalate and spiral out of control. It’s about how easily we can put our conscience to one side. Okay, it’s really about grown women who have sex with little girls, but some of those awkward questions do at least pop their heads up from time to time. 

Hand-wringer that I am, I’ve never been entirely sure how I feel about this story. I’ve become quite fond of the characters over the years, but sometimes the story has weighed on me like a ball and chain. I’ll sum it up like this: I gave birth to a monstrous thing. Now I’m leaving it on the doorstep of Juicy Secrets Orphanage. Good riddance. Just be careful – the little fucker bites.

Oh, one other thing. Just to eliminate any potential trepidation amongst those of you who are familiar with the original – Frankie does not die in this version. Long live Frankie.

BlueJean

Editor’s Note

As my friend and editing victim BlueJean says above, this story first made its appearance at the much-missed Lesbian Lolita site, where I encountered it – my introduction to this man’s fine erotic work. It was hot stuff indeed, though I also appreciated how the story subtly dealt with Sarah’s mixed feelings about the gradual changes in her family dynamic. My only real quibble with the story was the ending, in which Sarah’s lover Frankie is hit by a car and killed. Unlike most Hollywood executives, I do believe that some fictional works call for a tragic ending, but this wasn’t one of them.

Still, a satisfying story, with some smoking hot sex scenes – what’s not to like? But when Mr. Jean kicked off his next work, “The Beekeeper’s Daughters,” his writing was on a whole new level, erotica that succeeded as fantasy fiction in its own right. I was jealous that Lesbian Lolita had been first to get it, but we posted all their best stuff at Juicy Secrets anyhow (after a courteous waiting period), so we’d eventually have it too.

What happened, of course, was that Lesbian Lolita shut down, lost (like so many other sites) with the lengthy shuttering of asstr.org.  

I can’t recall who contacted the other first, but BlueJean needed a new home for his writing, and I wanted the entirety of “Beekeeper,” so we were soon in touch. The two of us seemed to drift naturally into an author/editor relationship, churning out five short novels in as many years, this being the last.

Mind you, he wasn’t especially eager to see this particular story made public, but after I asked for the sixth time or thereabouts, he consented, intending to simply hand the story over to me and walk away. I would have carte blanche to rewrite it as I saw fit. 

But by that point in our relationship, I knew BlueJean well enough (for someone I’d never met face to face) to suspect that he would NOT be able to let go of this story, and would find himself putting in just as much effort as he had with the others. Which was exactly how I wanted it… and precisely how it turned out. We ended up reworking this bad boy from top to bottom.

The result: Down the Rabbit Hole is a whole new creature, so improved it’s scary. Tremble before its might, ye pitiful mortals!

Enormous thanks, BlueJean, for giving me the opportunity to work with you one more once. You’ll be missed, mate. 

JetBoy

1

I have to wonder when the hole we dug became too deep for us to climb out. Hard to say, really. To gain any kind of perspective, you have to step back, I think. And I was having much too much fun to step back.

I guess it doesn’t make much difference anyway – once I’d started down that rabbit hole, there was no chance I was ever coming back up. And I gleefully dragged everyone down with me – Frankie (not that she ever needed much persuading), my sister Judy, the children, even the fucking schoolteacher.

The children… oh, the things we’ve done with them. Appalling. But so very exquisite. I’m sure it’ll all come back to bite us on the bum, sooner or later. We reap what we sow, right?

I’m a very naughty mummy, you see. I sold my soul for a taste of wicked debauchery. But that’s okay. I’m not going to try and justify what I’ve done or start making excuses – I wasn’t hurting anyone! It was completely consensual! We all liked it! We’re all happy and healthy! Blah, blah, blah.

That isn’t why I’m telling you our story. Honestly, I don’t care if you approve or not. I’ve made my peace with it. I know it’s wrong, but the thing is, I like the wrongness. If the things I’ve indulged in were seen as acceptable by society, it wouldn’t have been nearly as thrilling. Truth be told, I’ve always been a bad girl. My ex-husband used to tell me there was ‘something of the night’ about me. Maybe that’s true of most of us to some extent. We all have a darker self hidden away.

But I let my dark undercurrent bubble to the surface. Somewhere along the way I discovered that simply going with the flow is much easier than questioning the consequences of everything you do. Sure, it’s morally redundant, maybe even cowardly, but there’s a unique kind of liberation that comes with simply not giving a fuck.

So. How did it all start? Hmm…

A pair of little girl’s panties, that’s how.

Now listen.

2

 Friday and Saturday nights were all about sex in our house. My eight-year-old daughter Kerry – the only good thing to come out of a loveless and short-lived marriage – went to stay with her father on weekends. That meant me and my partner Frankie had the house to ourselves. Don’t get me wrong, sex during the week was nice enough, but it was confined to our bedroom, and an effort was made to keep it low volume for Kerry’s sake. The weekends, though – that was our time to migrate into the lounge, strip naked, stick some lesbian porn on the TV and go completely wild.

Frankie is – and I mean this in the nicest possible way – a dirty bitch. Her moral laxity when it comes to anything sex-related is breathtaking to behold. She’s a self-confessed sexual deviant and proud of it.

She looks the part, too – dark auburn hair shaved at the temples, eyes the colour of dusky emeralds. Much of her olive skin is adorned with tattoos, and her ears and nose gleam with studs and rings. If she looks like the kind of girl who’d eat you alive, it’s because she is.

In many ways, I’m the yin to her yang: my hair is dark blonde, my eyes a flinty grey. My breasts and hips are larger and fuller than Frankie’s, and though I do have a couple of tattoos in discreet locations, my skin is otherwise pale and unadorned.

Frankie and I are both very beautiful. Egotistical but true – and the only reason I tell you is because I want you to be able to picture us very clearly when we’re indulging in all the exquisite, forbidden things you’ll soon be reading about. I don’t mean to brag, but the fact is, we could score with just about anyone we wanted, women or men. But our interests ended up taking a more, shall we say, unusual turn.

On this particular Friday night, Frankie was hooking her laptop up to the TV in the lounge. I always let her choose the porn  – she usually comes up with something interesting, more often thoroughly filthy.

While she prepared the evening’s entertainment, I poured us each a tall glass of red wine. “What’re we watching?” I asked, already tingling in anticipation.

“A nice compilation of girls rimming each other,” Frankie replied sagely. “You should get down on your hands and knees while you watch it. In fact, I insist on it.”

This would probably be a good time to tell you that the two of us were clad in nothing but sheer, thigh-length stockings. Mine were a dark crimson, stark against the paleness of my legs. Frankie’s were black. Sometimes we also wore lacy knickers, mostly for how much we liked the way they looked stretched around our knees and ankles, or pulled to one side. We’ve tried wearing our sexiest heels a few times during these little soirées, like the girls in the videos, but aside from being wholly impractical, Frankie once nearly had my eye out with one of her stilettos. So in the spirit of health and safety, we decided to stop wearing them. So yeah, that night it was just the stockings.

“Why don’t you get down on your hands and knees?” I said with a smirk.

Frankie peered back at me in mock disapproval, hands hooked on her slender hips. “‘Cause I had the idea first. Now get down there. Don’t make me tell you again.”

After treating her to a sassy look, I knelt down on our nice Afghan rug. That rug’s taken some abuse over the years. Good job it cleans up nicely.

While the first porn scene began to unfold, Frankie crept around me like a predator deciding how best to dispatch its prey. Finally she squatted at my rear and growled, “Bend over.”

I fell forward onto the balls of my hands. Frankie planted a kiss on each bare buttock, then trailed the tip of her tongue up and down my pussy. I could feel her unsheath my clit, then her mouth was there too, sucking at the sensitive nub; lightly grazing it with her teeth.

Peering back at her, I demanded, “Tongue-fuck me.”

She speared her way into my cunt, her thumb brushing my engorged clit as she went about her dirty business. I pushed back against her oral assault, and Frankie’s response was to spread my bum cheeks apart to get at my arsehole, her tongue teasing the tight anal ring.

“Fuck yes,” I muttered, letting my front half sink down onto the rug so I could raise my rump even higher, giving Frankie unfettered access.

“Do you like my tongue in your arse, baby?” my girlfriend enquired.

“You know I do. Less chit-chat, more rimming.”

“I’ll do you one better. Spread those cheeks nice and wide for me, and I’ll finger your cunt at the same time.”

Supporting my weight with one hand, I used the other to spread myself open. Frankie slipped two of her fingers into my dripping pussy and began to work them in and out while she bathed my arsehole with her tongue.

“Eat it, bitch,” I hissed. “Put some effort into it.”

I received a sharp slap on the bum for my insolence.

Yeah, we got mean sometimes. Called each other names, got a little rough. But we kept it contained. It never spilled over into the other parts of our lives. I think girls are good at drawing lines like that. Post-coital remorse is mostly a male thing.

Frankie pulled her fingers from my cunt, reaching over to offer them to me. “Taste yourself.”

I sucked the wet digits clean. Frankie knew I loved the taste of my own pussy. When I masturbated, my fingers would usually end up in my mouth – if not mine, then Frankie’s. “Mmm, yummy,” I told her, then gave my voice an edge. “Now stick them back inside so I can come.”

While Frankie worked me from behind with fingers and tongue, I watched like-minded women doing much the same thing on the TV.

When I first met Frankie, one thing soon became abundantly clear: she and porn come as a package deal. She’s a connoisseur; laptops and thumb drives full of the stuff. That first year of dating was an abject lesson in how to carefully cultivate a porn addiction in your lover. It started with the softcore stuff, then gradually got kinkier and kinkier.

It wasn’t long before I was bucking hard against my girlfriend’s face as a knee-trembler of an orgasm shuddered through me. “Oh, God…” I whimpered into the rug.

After I’d regained some degree of functionality, Frankie rolled me onto my back, then straddled my face. “Eat me,” she demanded, grinding her pussy against my mouth.

While I feasted on her musky cunt, she grabbed fistfuls of my hair and rode me like the bitch I am. Copious quantities of hot, creamy goo oozed from her cunt, down onto my mouth and chin. Frankie’s always been a messy girl, and isn’t a bit ashamed of it.

Having used my face to her satisfaction, she finally pressed her pulsating sex to my lips and let her orgasm come freely. I held my breath and let her ride it out. I knew I wasn’t going anywhere until she was done.

She peered down at me and smiled sweetly. “Aww, did we make a nasty mess on the pretty lady’s face?”

I licked my lips and flashed my eyes at her.

“You look so sexy covered in my come,” Frankie told me sincerely.

“Kiss me,” I said, so she slid down and pressed her body against mine. We kissed deeply, sharing her creamy essence.

Then Frankie gave me one of her looks, the kind that says, Let’s do something really dirty. Let’s escalate.

“What?” I asked cautiously.

“You have an open mind, right?” she ventured.

“I’d like to think so.”

“I mean really open.”

“Uh… I’m not doing scat, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

Frankie laughed at that. “Nothing so gross. I have something else for us to watch but, well, it’s not exactly legal.”

I had to admit, she had me a little intrigued. “O-kay. I’m game, I guess. As long as we don’t get into trouble, and it’s not horrible or anything.”

She gave me a sly little smile, then began fiddling with her laptop. A short while later a video image suddenly bloomed into life.

I put a hand to my mouth in shock. “What the fuck!?”

I watched as a young girl sat half naked on the floor, legs spread wide, her smooth slit on full display. She couldn’t have been any older than ten.

“Oh, it’s her again,” Frankie said matter-of-factly, giving me a sidelong glance to gauge my reaction. “God, she’s always on here. A right little nympho, that one.”

“Wh-what’s she doing?” I asked, so unprepared for this breathtakingly shocking image that I could barely muster a coherent thought, let alone summon up the words to articulate it.

“It’s a cam thing,” Frankie tried to explain, but I could only look at her blankly. “You know – chat rooms. Kids are always doing stuff online, but some of them can be persuaded to take their knickers off.”

“By who?”

“Baaad people,” Frankie said with a reproachful pout that wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all me.

“Wait, is this live? She’s doing this right now?”

“Uh, yeah. Obviously.”

The little girl shuffled closer to the camera – Smartphone. All the kids have smartphones these days – and spread her hairless pussy open. “This what you wanna see?” she asked. An American kid, then. So sassy and confident.

“My God, she’s so young,” I muttered, still struggling to take in what I was seeing. I’d heard rumours about this kind of porn circulating on the web, but seeing it for myself was another thing entirely.

Frankie was studying me carefully, probably trying to decide if she’d gone too far. “I did say it wasn’t exactly legal. Are you okay with this?”

Some part of me said, No, I’m bloody well not okay with this! Another, more sexually devious part of me insisted, Fuck yeah, bring it on!

“It’s… I mean, it’s fucking hot,” I admitted. “But why would a girl her age do something like… that?”

Frankie shrugged. “I dunno. Don’t all little girls like to show their pussies? I sure did when I was that age. Didn’t you? Anyway, who cares why she does it?”

That’s the thing about Frankie – she isn’t really concerned how the rollercoaster works, long as she gets to ride it.

Her hand found its way between my legs. “Do you like her?”

“Well, yeah,” I found myself saying, shock rapidly giving way to pure arousal. “She’s cute.”

“And what about her smooth little pussy?” Frankie murmured. “Do you like that?”

I could only nod.

“It’d be nice to lick, wouldn’t it?”

“I dunno. Maybe. Yeah, I guess so.”

Frankie spun a finger across my clit while I sat transfixed. “I’d like to see you run your tongue up and down that sweet little cunt.”

Turning her back to the camera, the girl was now spreading her arse cheeks apart without a shred of inhibition.

“Look at that arsehole,” Frankie hissed as she fingered me. “I’ll bet it tastes delicious.”

“This is so wrong,” I groaned. “But so incredibly hot.”

“Shall we ask her to do something?” Frankie suggested.

“Like what?” I asked breathlessly.

“What do you want to see her do?”

A multitude of possibilities flitted through my mind, each more filthy than the last. I decided to start with the basics. “I – I think I’d like to see her finger herself.”

My own hand replaced Frankie’s between my legs while she typed away on her laptop. She seemed entirely unconcerned that some of the keys were now spotted with my fluids.

Hi cutie, can u stick a finger in your pussy?

“You wanna see me finger my trickle?” the little girl cooed.

Frankie’s fingers were a blur of movement across her keyboard, as were mine between my legs.

I’d love to see u do that! That would be so hot!

The girl made a show of spreading her pussy, pouting at the camera, then slipping a finger inside all the way up to the second knuckle. As she worked it back and forth, I realised she must have broken her hymen at some point. She was wet down there, too. I didn’t remember ever getting that juicy when I was her age.

“Mmmm… feels good!” the child squealed as she masturbated, little squelchy noises accompanying each pump of her wrist.

I told myself that if kids were doing porn these days, confining it to the safety of their own homes was a marginally better option than performing for some paedophile cameraman. This was where the self-justification began; the start of a battle I was never going to win.

Frankie was typing out a request of her own, a delighted grin on her face. At least she didn’t seem to have any moral quandaries about what we were doing.

Show us your bumhole while u finger your pussy.

Frankie slipped a hand down between her legs and gave me a smirk. “This is fun, right?”

“It’s, er, quite the eye-opener.”

Our little webcam exhibitionist lifted her legs up towards her head, giving us a nice view of her rosebud as she fingered herself. I loved how she was only wearing a pink t-shirt. It somehow made the whole spectacle seem even dirtier.

“Ask her to p-put something up her arse,” I muttered, now close to orgasm.

“Dirty bitch,” Frankie chuckled as she typed in my request.

Can u put something up your bum, sweetie?

“Up my bottom? Like a – a toothbrush or something?” the child asked.

Perfect!

“Okay, hold on.” She bounced onto her feet and ran off camera, her pert buttocks jiggling. I could see a bed in the background; pink sheets and pink pillows. The walls were adorned with posters and pictures typical of a girl her age. It looked a lot like my daughter Kerry’s room. That thought aroused me even more, though I avoided asking myself why. Probably best not to overanalyse.

The girl returned with a toothbrush in her hand, but suddenly froze like a deer caught in headlights, a look of alarm on her face. After a moment or two she gave a relieved sigh. “Dang, I thought my mom was comin’ upstairs!” She sat back down on the floor and spread her legs once again. Licking the toothbrush handle up and down, she brought it to her pink pucker. “So you want me to put this in my butt, huh?”

Encouraging the girl, Frankie typed out an enthusiastic, yes please!

I was beginning to wonder just how many of these cam shows she’d watched.

The girl pushed the smooth end of the toothbrush into her arsehole up to the halfway point and proceeded to fuck herself with it. “Mmmmm, yeah… feels so nice in my butt!” we were reliably informed.

“Well, would you look at that…” I mumbled, my hand finding its way between Frankie’s thighs, just as hers settled between mine. “I had no idea kids could be so filthy.”

“I’d love to lick her arsehole while you suck on that bare pussy,” my lover hissed, fingering me to an inevitable orgasm.

I arched my pelvis against Frankie’s fingers, the intensity of my climax causing me to squirt a little. Frankie brought herself off while I was recovering, mauling her swollen clit until she exploded into a series of mini convulsions while muttering the usual obscenities.

The webcam girl – who at some point had decided to stick a marker pen into her pussy along with the toothbrush up her arse – bounced onto her feet. “Shit, my mom’s callin’ me for supper. I gotta go, guys. Thank you!” She blew a kiss to the camera, and a moment later we were looking at a black screen.

Frankie and I sat and stared at each other. Finally I broke the silence. “Uh… did we just watch kiddy porn?”

“Yeah,” Frankie confirmed sheepishly. “More or less.”

“Okay, then.” I pointed to the TV. “So… do you watch that kind of thing a lot?”

“I mean, I wouldn’t say a lot,” Frankie replied, and then amended that with, “Not since I moved in with you, at least.”

I wasn’t sure how I felt about my girlfriend getting off to child pornography behind my back. I’ve never been the kind of person to concern myself with other people’s personal business, but there was still the question of the very illegal nature of the video we’d just watched, and the fact that my eight-year-old daughter might end up finding Frankie’s stash of illicit material.

“I guess you watch them when I’m not around,” I said.

“Everyone watches porn behind their partner’s back,” Frankie explained, completely unruffled. “It’s perfectly normal and healthy.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Not that kind of porn, you dirty cow!”

I adjourned to the kitchen to retrieve another bottle of red wine, then refilled our glasses. “So… you like little girls?” I asked in a tone that was as neutral as such a question would allow.

Frankie crossed her arms and arched a brow at me. “Oh, we’re going there, are we? You didn’t seem to have any objections to watching a little girl stick a toothbrush up her bum when you were coming on my fingers.”

“I’m not judging! I just didn’t know about this side of you. Well, beyond your usual perving over schoolgirls, that is. I’m kind of intrigued, that’s all.”

Frankie gave a shrug. “Honestly, I like all girls – big ones, little ones… er… other… ones. I’m not a paedo, or anything like that, I just think it’s a hot fantasy.” Clearing her throat, she adopted a philosophical tone. “In my opinion, all women are into little girls, even if they won’t admit it. And you basically just proved me right. Thanks for not breaking up with me, by the way.”

“What about Kerry?” I asked. “Do you think she’s hot?”

That earned me a scathing look. “Sarah. Don’t even go there. I love Kerry like she’s my own kid. I would never touch her.”

I leaned over to kiss her on the cheek. “I’m just kidding! You’re so easy to wind up.”

Frankie scowled at me, so I kissed her on the cheek again, then on the nape of the neck. When her eyes had softened somewhat, I nuzzled her ear and whispered, “What if I gave you permission to touch her?”

Frankie’s eyes lit up. She nibbled at her lower lip. “Would you?”

“No. Maybe. If Kerry wanted to. Actually, no. I dunno.”

We both broke into peals of laughter.

Frankie nudged me in the arm. “You’re such a pisstaker. Look, did you like the video or not?”

“Yes, Frankie,” I conceded, rolling my eyes. “I liked it very much.”

“Then let’s just agree that it was fun to watch, and that’s that. Okay?”

I took a mouthful of wine and let it coat the back of my throat. The warmth of it radiated through me pleasantly. “Fine.”

The truth was, I couldn’t stop thinking about the video. I’d never considered children to be sexual creatures before, but when you’re confronted by the image of a little girl fucking herself up the arse with a toothbrush, your whole perspective changes. It was new. And different. And for those of us intent on exploring our sexuality to the full, new and different are valuable currency.

I was starting to feel horny again. “I’d very much like to rub my cunt on yours,” I informed Frankie.

“That sounds nice,” she agreed, then slugged back the last few mouthfuls of her wine in one gulp.

My moral compass no longer a reliable navigation aid, a naughty idea implanted itself into my brain and refused to be dislodged. “Not here, though.”

“Where, then?”

“Kerry’s room.” And there it was.

Frankie stared at me, probably trying to decide if I was having her on again. “You wanna fuck in Kerry’s room?”

“Yeah. I really do.” I offered the obligatory disclaimer. “It doesn’t mean anything, just a bit of fun.”

At some point during our adventure, those disclaimers would become surplus to requirements.

So we ended up in my eight-year-old daughter’s bedroom, mouth to pussy on her pink duvet, entwined naked amongst all the soft toys and colourful throw pillows. Then I had Frankie lean over Kerry’s little homework desk while I ate her arse, and after that we rubbed our cunts together on the pink rug, the one with the picture of a unicorn. We’d had sex in some novel places before – one memorable liaison in the public library springs to mind – but never in my little girl’s bedroom. I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of it before. It was inspired. And extremely fucking hot.

I lost count of all the orgasms we had that evening. My daughter’s duvet bore the brunt of our lovemaking, and I reminded myself that it would need washing before Kerry got back on Sunday.

3

On Saturday we did Saturday stuff: stocked up on groceries, visited the gym, indulged in some serious retail therapy, then came back home for lunch and coffee. The rest of the day was spent lazing around on phones and laptops, and it wasn’t long before my perverted mind was drifting back to the video we’d watched the night before.

“Can we watch another one of those cam shows?” I asked Frankie sheepishly.

A pleased grin crept onto my girlfriend’s face. “Oh, you’ve got it bad, babe!”

“Fuck off, no I don’t! I’m just bored.”

“Don’t know if anyone will be on this time of day, but we could have a look.”

Frankie opened her laptop up, but sure enough, there didn’t seem to be much going on: A fat teenager licking her own tits; Another younger girl who clearly wasn’t willing to take her clothes off.

“Just normal porn, then?” I said, resigning myself to an afternoon of mainstream wank material. Sometimes you’ve gotta work with what you’ve got.

Except Frankie was giving me another one of her looks.

“What now?” I said.

“I have some other stuff on my laptop. Not live cam shows. Just videos.”

“Kid stuff?”

“Yeah.”

“Show me,” I heard myself say.

Frankie accessed an encrypted file on her laptop. I could see a series of thumbnails. After clicking on one, a grainy image appeared. A little girl of around five or six was lying on a bed with her legs open as a woman ate her out.

“Holy fuck,” I gasped, amazed and ever so slightly appalled. “I had no idea you were this perverted.”

“Shall I turn it off?”

“No!”

How on earth had Frankie managed to keep all this hidden from me? She’d shown me some weird stuff before – videos of women fucking dogs, BDSM, watersports. But kiddy porn? I had to wonder if I knew my girlfriend as well as I thought.

“This is one of my favourites,” Frankie told me. “Later on, the girl goes down on the lady—”

“Oi, don’t spoil the plot!” I chided, shoving a hand down my jeans.

Frankie laughed. “It’s not War and Peace.”

“Let’s watch it in Kerry’s room.”

“Oh, dear,” said a smirking Frankie. “I think I’ve created a monster.”

We took the laptop through to Kerry’s bedroom, lounging on the bed with our backs against the wall.

“I’m gonna get comfortable,” I announced and took off my jeans and panties. Frankie followed suit, and we settled down to watch the taboo footage.

“D-do you think they’re mother and daughter?” I pondered while I fingered myself.

Frankie ploughed through her wet folds. I could smell her familiar musky scent. “Yeah, definitely. They look alike.”

The woman flipped her little girl onto all fours, then set about eating her arse. What possessed a mother to do that with her kid? Money, I guessed. Surely mums weren’t supposed to be sexually attracted to their children, although this one was doing a pretty good job of pretending otherwise.

“Fuck yeah,” Frankie growled, treating herself to another finger. “Eat that little arsehole.”

I unsheathed my clit, strumming my fingers across the exposed node. “I bet she smells so good.”

That gave me an idea – a very dirty idea that would involve crossing certain lines. If I’d listened to my better judgement that day, I’m sure we’d all still be living out our relatively normal lives. The problem was, lust insisted on taking the wheel, gleefully hurtling down the road while my rationale had no option but to take a back seat.

“Back in a sec,” I told Frankie, and hastened to the bathroom.

Our washing hamper has a smiley face on one side. That afternoon the smile seemed inexplicably wider, and a good deal more devious. Go on, it seemed to taunt. You know you want to. Where’s the harm?

I lifted the lid. Various soiled garments inhabited the hamper, but I wanted something quite specific. I fished around and soon found what I was looking for: a small pair of pink panties. I pulled them open and found some stains, faint but noticeable. I screwed them up in my fist and carried them back to Kerry’s room.

“Close your eyes,” I told Frankie as I took my place on the bed.

“Close my eyes? I want to watch the naughty video, though,” my bemused lover replied.

“Just do it,” I insisted.

She rolled her eyes and then squeezed them shut. I crushed my daughter’s dirty panties against her face.

“What’s this?” Frankie asked.

“Smell them.”

She took a tentative sniff. “Ooh, sticking your dirty knickers in my face. Kinky!”

“Now you can open your eyes again.”

Frankie snapped her eyes open and peered at the pink wad of cotton I held before her. When she realised whose underwear they were, her eyes widened in surprise. “Kerry’s?”

I gave her a nod, then pushed them back under her nose.

“What is wrong with you?” Frankie mumbled through the soiled material, though I was quick to notice she wasn’t making much effort to push them away.

“You showed me kiddy porn, and that’s way worse,” I told her smugly, as if making my girlfriend smell my daughter’s dirty undies had somehow gained me the moral high ground. “Besides, I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve sneaked the odd pair of Kerry’s panties out of the washing basket when I’m not looking.”

Frankie looked a little put out by that. “I bloody well haven’t! I told you, I wouldn’t do anything like that without your permission.”

I dangled the soiled underwear in front of her nose. “Well, I’m giving you permission now. Smell my little girl’s knickers.”

Frankie breathed in deeply, scissoring two fingers in and out of her cunt as I held the panties against her face.

I turned my attention back to the laptop, where the woman in the video was splayed out on the bed, her little girl fixed firmly between her legs, lapping away at Mummy’s cunt.

Frankie took advantage of my lapse of concentration and snatched Kerry’s knickers off me, pushing them into my face. “How’d you like that, you dirty cow?” she cooed.

A subtle, fruity musk awakened my senses – a combined perfume of arse, pee, sweat, laundry soap and a faint trace of pussy. Was my little girl getting aroused, perhaps even masturbating? I didn’t remember playing with myself at that age, but no two girls were alike when it came to discovering their sexuality.

I decided I liked this new fantasy, foolishly convincing myself that it was just a bit of harmless fun. Me, Frankie, a pair of my eight-year-old’s soiled underwear. Just a dirty little game. That’s all.

All the components were there for an earth-shattering orgasm: Fingers in my pussy, my daughter’s sweet aroma teasing my senses, the wet sound of Frankie mauling her cunt next to me. Oh, and the image of a little girl fisting her mummy on a laptop screen.

“Fuck!” I cried into Kerry’s knickers, my climax crashing over me. “Fuck fuck fuck.”

Frankie was watching me intently when she came soon after, the sight of me climaxing with my daughter’s knickers pressed firmly to my nose evidently a more erotic proposition than the child porn on her laptop. I’m sure she’d watched that particular video plenty of times before, after all.

We leaned in and kissed one another deeply, as we so often did post sex. It was a way to reaffirm our love, I think. No matter how nasty the sex got, no matter the name-calling or the overzealous roleplay, we still loved each other very much. The sex was more than great, but mere fuck-buddies we were not.

Frankie and I regarded one another for a good long while, until finally I found some words. “What on earth have we got ourselves into?”

Frankie offered me an impish smile. “Dunno, but I think I like it.”

“Me too,” I agreed.

Frankie cleaned up the bedroom while I put Kerry’s bed sheets into the washing machine, along with the small pair of pink panties that were the catalyst of everything that followed.

And as far as we were concerned, that was that. A moment of kinky madness, and on we went with our lives.

When evening came, we were tucked up on the couch in t-shirts and knickers, another bottle of wine gracing the coffee table.

Frankie took a mouthful of claret, then shook her head with a chuckle.

I looked at her straight-faced. “What?”

“I can’t believe you had us sniffing Kerry’s knickers like that.”

“Well, I’m still pretty scandalised about those videos you showed me, but I won’t tell if you won’t. Let’s just agree we’re both a couple of perverts and leave it at that.”

Frankie nibbled on her lower lip. “Do you… y’know, ever think about doing stuff with her?”

“Kerry?”

“Yeah.”

I should’ve been furious that she’d even suggest such a thing, but after the videos, and our unique use for Kerry’s panties, the idea didn’t seem quite as outrageous as it once might have. “I wouldn’t go that far,” I said. “But…”

“What?”

I shook my head and laughed it off. “It doesn’t matter. It’s a bit embarrassing.”

“Tell me,” Frankie pressed.

“When Kerry was a baby, I used to masturbate while she suckled from me,” I admitted, remembering how good it’d felt to have Kerry’s lips clamped firmly around my nipple.

“Wow,” was all Frankie could say.

I shrugged. “It felt quite natural, to be honest. I don’t think it’s that uncommon for women to get turned on while breastfeeding.”

Frankie seemed to be giving some serious thought to that. “That’s actually really fucking hot. Maybe I should have a baby.”

“Babies are for life, sweetheart,” I told her, “not just cummies.”

“Yeah, true,” she conceded. “Besides – being impregnated by a man? Excruciating labour pain? Sore nipples? Changing shitty nappies? I’ll pass.”

I kissed her tenderly, then asked, “Want me to fuck you with a strapon while we watch another one of your little-girl videos?”

Frankie gave me yet another of those special looks. “Sold.”

Kerry would be back from her dad’s the next day. I hoped things wouldn’t feel weird around her. I’d sniffed her dirty panties, sure, but that didn’t mean I wanted to molest her or anything. That’s not how it works, is it? It’s just a naughty fantasy. Kerry would come home, and things would go back to normal. Right?

Right?

On to Chapter Two!

4

The Evil That Men Do, Chapter 15

  • Posted on April 9, 2026 at 2:20 pm

The Story Thus Far

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter Twelve: A sleepover is in progress at Terry’s place while he is out. When the girls retire to their rooms, Halee phones her girlfriend Bethany and puts her on speaker to hear her younger sister Naomi and Chelsey going at it through their adjoining walls, and a good time is had by all. Upon returning home, Terry does some work on an idea for a new novel after months of inaction. Mallory is still unsure what to do with the family farm, and Nettie runs some ideas about the recent kidnapping case past Agent Ramscone.

Chapter Thirteen: Four members of the Pussy Posse — Mallory, Julie, Jamie, and Emma — are spending quality time together, along with Julie’s younger sister Vicky. News, gossip, memories, and innuendo are bandied about. Vicky hesitantly speaks of a recent sleepover where she overheard a couple of the girls saying hurtful things about her, an incident that still stings badly. The four women offer her comfort and understanding, which soon becomes something more.

Chapter Fourteen: Mallory, Julie, Jamie, Emma and Julie’s younger sister Vicky are having a barbecue and sleepover. Vicky loves hanging out with the Pussy Posse, but feels a little self-conscious, knowing that the women will very likely be having group sex later that evening. But Julie boldly her sister to join the sapphic festivities. Vicky is hesitant at first, especially at the prospect of coupling with her older sibling, but Julie manages to put her at ease. The four women and one teen adjourn for the master bedroom. Clothes are removed, bare bodies mingle, pleasure is shared.

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

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

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

by Rachael Yukey

Don’t talk to strangers
‘Cause they’re only there to do you harm
Don’t write in starlight
‘Cause the words may come out real
Don’t hide in doorways
You may find the key that opens up your soul
Don’t go to heaven
‘Cause it’s really only hell
Don’t smell the flowers
They’re an evil drug to make you lose your mind
Don’t dream of women
‘Cause they’ll only bring you down
Dio, 1983

“There’s Halee!” Bethany yanked in vain on the interior door handle of Nettie’s car. Halee, who’d been waiting on the steps to Nettie’s front porch, rose to her feet and sauntered toward the car wearing a huge grin.

“Easy there, tiger,” said Nettie with a smile, putting the gearshift in park. The doors unlocked, and Bethany was out of the car like a shot. The two girls fell into each other’s arms, their mouths meeting in a drawn-out, hungry kiss.

“Get a room,” said Nettie, unfolding herself from behind the wheel and stretching, hands clasped high above her head.

“Oh, yes, let’s!” Bethany agreed, disengaging her mouth from Halee’s.

Halee made a face. “Can’t,” she muttered. “I just got my period yesterday.”

Bethany, who had only begun menstruating a few months previously, grimaced. “First one, right?”

“Yeah. It is so disgusting.”

“You get used to it,” said Nettie, making her way to the porch. .

“God, I hope so. I feel gross.”

“That sucks,” said Bethany. “But we still get to be together. What should we do first?”

Halee peered at her watch. “How long do we have?”

“Nettie’s taking me back when she goes to work this evening. But hey—I just got off the phone with Mom, and she said if you want to sleep over tonight, you totally can. Then you could show me around Johnstown tomorrow, like we talked about! Think your Dad will let you?”

Halee grinned. “I know of only one way to find out. Hey, Nettie?”

Nettie was standing inside her open doorway, divesting herself of her shoes. “Yeah?”

“We’ll be heading over to my house. Thanks for bringing Bethany.”

Nettie smiled. “No problem. Just so you know, whether it’s one or both of you riding back to Johnstown with me this evening, I need you here by six. Got it?”

“Got it,” Bethany replied. “Thanks, Antoinette.”

Nettie watched in amusement as the girls departed, chattering at a great rate. Once they rounded the corner and disappeared from view, she closed the door, crossed the living room to her recliner, and collapsed into it. Clumsily extracting her phone from the front pocket of her jeans, she checked her email. Still nothing from Bridgett. Nettie had to fight off an urge to fling the device across the room.

The hand that wasn’t gripping the phone balled into a fist so tight, it left fingernail marks in the flesh of her palm. Nettie didn’t notice.

***

“Dad?” Halee took the single step from the dining nook to the living room, Bethany trailing in her wake. She took in the scene at a glance; her sister Naomi on the couch sandwiched between their two dogs, Dawn and her friend Allison on the love seat, Maya sprawled out on a beanbag chair. A cartoon Halee didn’t recognize was showing on the TV. Her father was in his recliner, fingers assaulting the keys of a newly purchased laptop. He didn’t look up. “Hey, Dad.”

Naomi gave her an amused smile and a shake of the head. Terry’s eyes never wavered from his laptop screen, and the younger girls remained intent on their program.

Halee stopped directly in front of her father’s chair. “Old guy!” 

Terry’s head jerked up. He gave it a quick shake. “Morning, Halee,” he grunted. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Yeah, I kinda noticed. What’re you so wrapped up in?”

“Oh, just a random bit of writing,” he replied, massaging his fingers.

“Mmm, okay.” Halee wondered if it was the same ‘random bit of writing’ he’d been so centered  on for the last several days. She gestured towards the dining nook, where Bethany still hovered. “I told you Bethany was coming by today, remember?”

Terry craned his head around. “Oh, yes. Hello, Bethany. Welcome to our humble commode.”

Naomi, who had just paused the cartoon, twisted to peer over her shoulder. “Oh, hey, Bethany!” She waved a hand at the love seat. “That’s Allison.”

Bethany smiled. “Nice to meet you, Allison. Um, it’s good to see the rest of you again.”

Dawn and Allison said ‘Hi!’ almost in unison, and Maya tossed out a small wave, then glanced impatiently back at the frozen image on the TV screen.

“Dad, Nettie’s taking Bethany back to Johnstown tonight when she goes to work. I’ve been invited to spend tonight and tomorrow at her place. Can I go?”

Terry shrugged. “I have but one concern. I’ve warned you repeatedly to avoid drug pushers, and I seem to recall that Bethany’s mother works in anesthesia. Isn’t her entire job the administration of narcotics…?”

Halee rolled her eyes and made a slapping motion in the direction of her father’s head, but Bethany responded with a snort of laughter. “I can’t wait to let Mom know she’s a drug dealer!”

“Don’t encourage him,” said Halee, then turned back to her father, arms folded. “So that’s a yes, then?”

“It is, in fact, a yes. And if the good Dr. Fletcher does offer you opioids, I expect you to bring some home for your poor jonesing father.” Halee and Naomi shared a look of long-suffering. Bethany giggled, taking the single step up from the dining nook to the living room.

“Hey, Naomi,” said Halee, “Would it be okay if Bethany used your bike? I thought I’d show her the trails.”

“Yeah, no problem,” said Naomi.

“Thanks,” said Halee, approaching the couch. She reached down to rub her Boston Terrier’s upturned belly.

“Yeah, thanks, Naomi—” Bethany began, then interrupted herself when she noticed the dogs. “Ooh, is this Tinkerbell and Laney? They’re so cute!”

Halee looked on in amusement as her girlfriend bent down to pet the big golden retriever. When she diverted her attention to the terrier, Tinkerbell raised her large shaggy head, whining in protest.

“Don’t be a big baby, Tink,” Naomi admonished, scratching the animal behind the ears.

“Daddy, can’t we turn it back on?” Maya complained, waving her hand at the frozen image on the TV screen.

“What happens when we whine about television in this house, or place it ahead of interactions with people?” Terry inquired.

Maya looked sullenly at her hands. “We don’t get to watch it.”

“Precisely. Therefore, I recommend that you reverse course immediately, lest you find yourself in your room while everyone else watches the rest of the show.”

“It’s okay,” said Halee. “We’re heading out. Thanks for letting us use your bike, Naomi.”

***

“I can’t believe how small this town is,” said Bethany. She and Halee had ridden the city’s circumference, a journey taking them a little over thirty minutes. Five of those minutes had been spent sitting in one place, watching the pastured cattle on the southeast end of town. “And how once you get to the edge of it there’s just—you know, nothing.” She giggled. “I can’t believe I got that close to actual cows.”

Halee, riding alongside of her, laughed. “I know a girl at school who lives on a dairy farm. I could probably get you close enough to pet them if you wanted.”

“Whoa, really?”

Halee turned left at the grain elevator, a construction project coming into view as they rounded the peripheral storage tanks. Squeezing the brakes, she came to a stop on the gravel next to one of the enormous aluminum bins. “Check this out.”

Bethany came to a halt beside her, gazing at the incomplete structure across the street. “Um, what exactly are we looking at?”

“The new convenience store. It’s been a couple years since the old one closed down, and that was a total pit.”

“It blows my mind that there’s a town in America that doesn’t have a C-store,” Bethany murmured.

“Yet here you are.” Both girls laughed. “There’s a gas station a couple streets from here,” Halee went on, “but it’s just a gas and an auto shop, not a convenience store. They closed down everything but the pumps a couple weeks ago, and there’s not even anybody there. You just pay at the pump with your card. As soon as this new place opens this fall, they’re gonna close the pumps at the old one and tear down the building.”

Bethany was shaking her head. “Crazy.”

Halee gestured toward the north edge of town. “Ready to hit the trails?”

“Let’s do it!”

Halee led the way out of town, nosing into the smooth, well-maintained trail that looped through the woods, then back around to come out near Nettie’s old apartment building.

“This is nice,” said Bethany after they’d been riding for several minutes.

“It’s long, too,” said Halee. “We’re just gonna take a route that loops, but we could also ride all the way to Johnstown going in one direction, or Perry in the other. Then it goes on to other places from those towns. People ride through here on big bike tours.”

They rounded a bend, and through the pines they could see a fork in the trail, one side taking a slight curve to the left, then disappearing down a hill, the other side angling sharply to the right. Bethany caught a flash of motion coming up the hill on the left-hand fork. The figure ascended rapidly into full view, a well-muscled man of perhaps thirty-five in gym shorts approaching at a brisk jog.

Halee suddenly wrenched her bike into the grass at the edge of the trail, braking so hard that she very nearly went over the handlebars. Bethany narrowly missed grazing her as she shot by, hitting her own brakes. The jogger, seemingly oblivious, tossed the girls a casual wave as he trotted past.

Shaken, Bethany awkwardly turned the bike around on the narrow trail, then coasted over to where Halee sat astride her bike, trembling violently, knuckles white on her handgrips.

“Halee? You—you look like you just saw a ghost.” Stopping next to Halee, Bethany reached out tentatively, putting her hand on Halee’s. The quivering flesh was clammy and cold.

“I—” Halee pried her other hand from the handlebar, waving vaguely at the direction from whence the jogger had appeared. “That’s—” She seemed unable to go on.

Bethany was usually good at offering comfort to friends when it was needed, but this visceral reaction was beyond her experience or comprehension. “Halee, you’re kinda freaking me out.”

This brought a shaky laugh. “You’re freaked out? I—” Halee visibly got a grip on herself, taking a steadying breath. “If you go that way,” she said, pointing down the hill, “and ride just a couple miles, you cross Shadow Lake Road. That’s where my shitty ho-bag mom was hiding out. This is the trail I took when—”

“When you got shot.” Bethany felt herself starting to tremble, too.

“Yeah. I saw a, a muscly-looking guy coming at us from there and I—I don’t know—”

Bethany pried Halee’s hand from the handlebars and held it between both of hers. “You’re so brave. I don’t think I’d be able to come out here at all.”

Halee shivered. “I’ve ridden through here a couple times before. I didn’t like it, but it wasn’t this bad. I guess it’s because—”

“Cause someone was there.”

Halee’s fear was contagious, and Bethany realized that she was becoming thoroughly unnerved. “Think we should get out of here?”

“In a second. I’ve got to learn to deal with it.”

A few minutes later the two girls pedaled away, taking the right-hand fork back toward town. Emerging once more on the streets of Bronning, they rode back out to where the beef cattle were summer grazing near the road. They parked the bikes and approached the fence, the animals seemingly unfazed by their presence. Talk turned to the things Bethany wanted to do and see before the summer was over, and all the places Halee wanted to show her.

But Bethany couldn’t stop thinking about the raw terror in her girlfriend’s eyes, the clamminess of her skin, the way Halee’s body quivered helplessly. She didn’t understand what she’d just witnessed, or what, if anything, she could do about it.

***

“Can we watch one more, Daddy?” Maya gazed hopefully over her shoulder from the beanbag chair in the center of the living room. The credits were rolling on the cartoon the girls had just watched.

Terry looked up from his laptop, which he had purchased in order to work on Junkyard Jet Skis without sequestering himself in his office for hours at a time.

“Hmmm—what say the rest of you?” he inquired of the room at large. Dawn and Allison both nodded vigorously, thrilled at the prospect. Terry rarely allowed more than an episode in a single sitting, especially on a nice day—and they’d already had two.

Naomi simply shrugged, although her eyebrows lifted. “I could go either way.”

“Fortune smiles upon you all,” said Terry, “though it comes with a price. I want everyone out of their pajamas, dressed for the day, and with teeth brushed. You may then reconvene here and watch one, I repeat, one more episode whilst I finish proofreading these last two chapters. Once I’ve completed that task, I was thinking we’d go to the state park for the day.”

The three youngest girls lit out of the living room, thundering down the hall as if their feet were on fire and their behinds catching. Naomi pushed herself from the couch and made her way to the stairs at a more sedate pace.

***

The white-on-black beef steer approached the fence cautiously, stopping only inches from the stalk of alfalfa Bethany was holding between the gaps in the barbed wire. They’d found a stand of the stuff growing in the neighboring ditch, and had been trying to use it to lure an animal within petting distance for almost five minutes.

When the phone in Halee’s pocket chose that moment to ring, the large animal started, turned around, and trotted off in the opposite direction.

“Aw, man!” Bethany complained.

Dropping her alfalfa stalk in exasperation, Halee dug the phone out of her pocket. “It’s Dad,” she muttered, swiping the accept button and putting the phone on speaker. “You just scared our cow away,” she groused.

There was a moment’s pause. “I’ll refrain from asking what you mean by that,” said Terry. “That aside, I’m calling to inform you that we’re going to Sequoia for the day. If you and Bethany would rather stay in town that’s quite all right; otherwise, she’s welcome to come along.”

Bethany’s face lit up. “Isn’t that the state park over by Johnstown?”

“Indeed it is,” said Terry.

“That’d be so cool!”

“Hold on,” Halee put in. “First off, will we be back in time to catch our ride with Nettie?”

“Daughter dearest, the Sequoia public access is only five or six miles from Johnstown. I can simply deposit the two of you at Hannah’s apartment when we’re finished for the day.”

“Didn’t think of that,” Halee admitted. “Will we all fit?”

“That’s the reason I bought the Pilot last month: my increased passenger loads of late, and the pop-up seats in the back,” Terry pointed out. “Fear not; there is room for all.”

Halee glanced at her girlfriend with amusement. Bethany was bouncing on the balls of her feet with excitement. “It appears we’re in,” she said. “We’ll head back right now.”

“Sounds good. I’ll inform both Nettie and Hannah of the change in plans.”

***

Two teenage girls lounged in their respective rented kayaks, oars shipped. They were about two-thirds of the way across the lake from the public beach, the light breeze carrying them gradually back in the general direction of their point of origin.

“Can I ask you something?” Bethany ventured.

Halee shrugged. “Anything you want.”

“It’s personal.”

Halee reached out, barely snagging the side of Bethany’s kayak. She pulled it alongside hers, hulls meeting with a dull thunk, then reached inside to take her girlfriend’s hand. A twinge of excitement still ran through her every time the word girlfriend popped into her head.

“Being girlfriends means we should be able to pose personal questions, don’t you think?”

Bethany nodded. “Yeah, but some stuff is hard to talk about. And I kind of want to talk about what happened on the bike trail this morning.”

Halee tilted her head back, shielding her eyes against the glare. “Yeah—I kind of wondered when that was going to come up. I freaked you the fuck out, didn’t I?”

Bethany squeezed her hand. “A little. I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

“Yeah, I got that. What do you want to know?”

“We—well, we’ve never really talked about what happened when your mom came back. Is it something you feel you can tell me about?”

Halee shook her head. “I’m not ready for that yet. I know I need to get there. I mean, I have no desire to be like Nettie and—oops.” She clapped her free hand over her mouth.

Bethany waved that away. “Please. I know Antoinette’s got some kind of problem she won’t talk about. The first night she stayed at our house, she had a really awful dream. Woke both me and Mom up. We didn’t think too much of it, but then there was other stuff.”

Halee relaxed. “Yeah. I don’t know what it is. I’m not even sure if Dad knows the whole story. But it really fucks her up sometimes, I can tell you. I can’t let that happen to me.”

“It must be really scary to think about,” said Bethany. “Having a—oh, shit. Forget it. I’m sorry.”

“Having a what?”

Bethany grimaced. “I don’t wanna make things worse—”

“No, say it.”

“I was just thinking how I’d feel with a gun literally pointed at me.” Bethany’s voice was subdued. “I don’t think I’d ever sleep again, even if the gun never got fired. And actually getting shot—”

Halee was trembling now. “It’s all I can think about, sometimes,” she said, her voice catching. “A pistol—its such a—a small thing, Bethany, but it’s the biggest fucking thing in the world when it— when—”

“Oh, Halee, I’m so sorry,” Bethany was almost in tears. “I should have just kept my mouth shut. I won’t mention it again, not ever.”

“It’s okay.” Halee was still shaking a bit, but her voice was firm. “I need to talk about it, I think. And you know what? God—you’re going to laugh at this.”

“What?”

“I’m even more afraid of being so fucked up nobody will want me. When I freaked out on the bike trail this morning, all I could think of as we were riding out of there was that I wouldn’t blame you if you ran like hell.”

Bethany’s brow furrowed. “Well, I’m not going to laugh, because it isn’t funny. You’re going through a huge, scary thing. You almost died, Halee. I want to help you, not get away from you. I’m a little mad that you thought I would.”

Halee realized she’d been holding her breath. It all came out in a rush. “You’re the best of all possible Bethanys.”

Bethany grinned. “I am. I really am.”

“And now you sound like my dad.” Both girls burst out laughing.

“You’re so brave,” said Bethany. “I don’t think I’d ever come out of my room again if something like that happened to me.”

“I don’t feel very brave. I’m jumpy and on edge all the time.”

“But, see, you don’t let it stop you. Not being scared—that’s dumb. Being scared and doing what you want to anyway—that’s brave. You don’t know how big a turn-on it is, knowing how brave you are.”

Halee tipped her a sultry smile. “I love that I turn you on.”

Bethany sighed. “Getting your period when you did is way crappy timing. I just wanna rip your clothes off and tear you apart.”

Letting go of Bethany’s hand, Halee allowed her own fingers to creep down her girlfriend’s midriff. “I feel too repulsive to let myself be touched right now,” she murmured, “but I can do something for you. We’re still a long way from shore…”

***

That evening, Halee and Bethany were seated on the brand new sofa in the apartment Bethany would be sharing with her mother. Some heavy rock was playing at a low volume. The two young lovers were engaged in a deep, passionate kiss when Hannah exited the bathroom, hair wrapped in a towel, the rest of her unselfconsciously nude.

“That looks like fun,” she remarked.

Bethany disengaged, her face flushed. “It’s no fair. I’m so fucking hot for her, and we can’t do much because of her stupid period.”

Halee grinned. “I can take care of you, like I did today on the kayak.”

Hannah’s eyebrows shot up. “Sounds like I missed a fun time.”

“Just a little,” Halee agreed.

Bethany grinned. “It was fun, but I so wanted to touch her back! It’s way more awesome when she comes, too.”

“You know, your period doesn’t have to be a showstopper, Halee,” Hannah pointed out.

“Yeah, I get that, but right now I just feel disgusting down there.”

A contemplative look came into Hannah’s eyes. “So maybe you need a hot shower.” She glanced at Bethany. “Both of you…”

Five minutes later the two girls stood naked in the shower cubicle together, lips and tongues caught up in a sensual dance. Bethany disengaged, dipping her head to wrap her lips around one of Halee’s nipples, then the other. Halee let out a long, low moan as Bethany switched to licking and kissing her budding breasts while she fondled Bethany’s ass.

Taking the detachable showerhead in hand, Bethany slipped behind Halee. She nuzzled the back of Halee’s neck, reaching around to caress her nipples. With her other hand, Bethany directed the spray at Halee’s cunt.

“Oh, yeah,” Halee grunted, thrusting her pelvis forward. She reached down to rub her clit, but her hand froze in mid-motion as Bethany angled the showerhead a little higher. A loud cry escaped her throat, and her arm went slack. No need to make herself come after all, she reasoned—Bethany had the situation well in hand.

The rushing water swept over her clitoris again. “Oh fuck, yeah!” she wailed. “Ohhh! Oh, Bethany, that feels so fucking amazing—”

Bethany’s soft kisses were now playful love bites, traveling over Halee’s neck, shoulders and upper back. Halee was moaning with every breath, powerful jolts of pleasure slamming through her body. “Oh, God. Oh, Bethany…”

Halee made short, fast “uh, uh, uh” noises as she came, doubling over, tearing herself out of Bethany’s embrace as the ecstasy became too explosive to bear, supporting herself with both hands against the beige-tiled wall of the shower.

Halee spun around to take hold of her girlfriend by the shoulders, shoving her into the corner, then went to her knees, looking up into Bethany’s eyes. Bethany, her breath ragged, let the showerhead fall from her trembling hands. It swung to and fro, still spraying water at the wall.

“I need to eat your pussy now, Bethany,” said Halee. “Can I?”

“Oh, God, yes…”

Halee wasted no time, slipping her tongue between Bethany’s folds. She brought her right hand up to ease a finger into her girlfriend’s slippery cunt.

Halee’s tongue flicked back and forth, her finger sliding in and out in a steady rhythm. Bethany seemed able to take more, so Halee added a second finger. “Yes,” Bethany breathed. Within minutes the girl was panting like a sprinter, grinding her mound into Halee’s face.

Then she was screaming, her vaginal muscles gripping those thrusting fingers, and Halee felt a warm gush of fluid as Bethany came all over her.

“Oh Jesus, Halee—no more!” Bethany wailed, pushing her partner’s head away.

Halee buried her face in the softness of the redhead’s belly, licking droplets of warm water from her skin. She reached around with both hands to lovingly fondle Bethany’s ass, pressing the girl back against the opposite wall of the shower.

“Your mom was right,” Halee said, gazing up at her breathless girlfriend. “I just needed a hot shower.” She licked her lips, smiling hugely. “One thing’s for sure—I’ve never had my face washed like that before.”

Bethany began to chuckle—then both girls were shaking with laughter.

***

Nettie perched on a stool at the kitchen island wearing nothing but blue cotton panties, regarding a pair of side-by-side images with a critical eye.

It had taken over a week for Bridgett to get hold of the artist’s sketch of the Dulcey girls’ kidnapper, and the digital scan had dropped to her email last night while she was asleep. It was five-thirty this Friday morning, and in a short while she had to depart for her three-day weekend tour at work. Primary dayshift, backup nightshift, with the good news being that while on backup, she didn’t have to stay at the station. For the next three nights, she’d be crashing at Hannah’s apartment.

The sketch tiled to the right side of her screen was a composite taken from the descriptions the Dulcey girls had given, and to the left was Jacob Brentshaw’s arrest mugshot. They weren’t quite a match.

The sketch sported more age lines and less hair; both to be expected after so many years. But the forehead was also too wide in relation to the chin, the cheekbones too high. On the other hand the spacing of the eyes looked right, as did the beak of a nose. Although not an exact match, the similarities to the mugshot were sufficient to make Nettie’s skin crawl.

Closing her laptop, she slurped the last of her now-cold coffee, then heaved herself to her feet with a heavy sigh. The window of opportunity for a decent breakfast had passed; the McDonald’s drive-through in Johnstown would have to suffice. Making her way to the bedroom, she struggled into a uniform, tugged her pre-packed weekend bag from the closet, and shambled her way out the door.

It was during the forty-minute commute to Johnstown, Mercyful Fate rattling the dash, that a plan began to form in her mind. Bridgett wasn’t going to like it, but Nettie had a few days off coming during the first part of the following week—and she knew how that time was going to be spent.

***

Mallory was sitting bolt upright on the edge of a kitchen chair in the old farmhouse she still thought of as Dad’s Place, or sometimes as Home One, a name she’d given it to distinguish it from the series of apartments her mother had taken in the years following the divorce, each of which had been dubbed Home Two. Her eyes were fastened on a stick of white plastic in her hand.

She almost jumped out of her skin at the sound of the front door opening. “Where you at, sweetheart?” Julie’s voice called out.

“Kitchen,” Mallory heard herself reply, as if someone else was speaking. Looking around in a near-panic, she shoved the white plastic object in her hand under the edge of a napkin that had been left on the table.

“Hey,” said Julie, stepping into the kitchen with a watermelon tucked under one arm, a grocery bag in the other. “Just picked up a couple of extras while I was in town. How’d your practice go?”

“All right.” Once more, Mallory felt herself responding automatically, with no apparent conscious link between her mouth and her brain. “Most of it’s stuff I just recorded a couple of months back, so it won’t take much to be ready to go onstage with it in September. Did you have a good time?”

“Yeah, it was cool.” Julie set the bag down on the counter, opened the fridge and tucked the watermelon in on the bottom shelf. She began removing objects from the bag, deftly sorting fridge items from cupboard. “Got my ass handed to me, but I haven’t played cribbage in, um, how long? Can’t even remember.” She knelt to stuff some peppers and celery into the crisper, rose again, then closed the refrigerator, turning toward Mallory with a grin that faded instantly. “Mal—are you okay?”

Mallory ran a hand over her eyes, fighting down an irrational urge to tell Julie that everything was just fine, she was only tired, she…

“I’m late.”

Julie put down the can of soup she was holding, her face going still. “You’re never late.”

“Which is why I bought these.” Mallory extracted the pregnancy test she’d tucked beneath the napkin.

Taking one long step forward, Julie plucked the stick from Mallory’s hand, staring down at the bold pink stripe. Moving very slowly, she pulled out a chair that was tucked under the edge of the table, settling herself into it. “Holy shit.”

“I bought a three-pack,” said Mallory. “This is the third one, and they all come out the same.”

Julie nodded slowly. “Terry Wilder?”

“Unless you’ve been artificially inseminating me in my sleep, he’s the only possibility.”

“We should go to the clinic and make sure.”

“Yeah,” said Mallory, fingers drumming on her jeans-clad thigh. “Obviously, we have to do that. But I know what they’re gonna tell me. Honestly, Julie, I think I’ve known something was off since maybe three or four days after.”

Julie reached out and took her partner’s hand. “Any idea yet what you want to do?”

Letting out a laugh that was almost a sob, Mallory shook her head. “Are you kidding? I’m still half-convinced this is a fever dream. I couldn’t even tell you what the options are, much less which ones appeal to me.”

Still holding Mallory’s hand, Julie leaned back in the chair. “There really aren’t that many, babe. You get an abortion, or you give birth. If it’s the latter, you either keep it or give it up. I’m behind you no matter what you decide.”

Mallory stared at Julie, hard. “I’ve been sitting here with that damn test strip in my hand for almost an hour. You got clued in like three minutes ago, and you’re already way ahead of me.”

Julie shrugged. “You’ve been sleeping with guys on and off for over a decade. This was always a possibility. It’s something I’ve given some thought to.”

“You’re not even going to ask if I was careful?”

“What for? I know you’re careful. Shit happens.”

Mallory chuckled. “It’s crazy that you’ve thought this out more than I have, when I’ve been the one out there actually taking the chance.”

“Not so much,” said Julie. “It’s easier when you’re not the one who has to make the hard choices.”

“So if I want to keep it—” Mallory trailed off, letting the question hang in the air.

“If you want to keep it, we raise it together, just like we do everything else. That’s a decision I made a long time ago, when you first started hooking up with men. I think part of me is kind of hoping you decide to keep it. Is that what you want?”

Mallory looked at the floor. “I honestly don’t know yet. I don’t think I want to abort, but you know, Julie—as busy as the past few years have been, I’ve hardly given motherhood a single thought. Is it something I actually want to do? I have no fucking idea.”

“I know what you need to do either way, and soon.”

Mallory made a face. “So do I: talk to Terry. And I really ought to do it in person.”

Julie looked momentarily at the ceiling, then back to Mallory. “We don’t have any plans for the next few days. Trip to Bronning?”

“Might as well. And Julie—” Mallory was crying now, slow tears tracking her face. “I love you s-so much.”

Leaning forward, Julie kissed her forehead. “I love you, too. No matter what, things are going to be okay.” She stood. “I’ll call Nettie and let her know we’re coming.”

On to: Chapter Sixteen!

1

A Series of Erotic Interviews with Highly-Sexed Women, Chapter 6

  • Posted on April 4, 2026 at 3:04 pm

By Suzy Freeman

I am breaking the format for this portion of my study. Instead of an interview, I’m incorporating the following as an example of how an early onset of sexual desire can affect those who experience it.

Three days later, after meeting and coupling with Erica, I was at home waiting for her to turn up with her sister Carmen. As it happened, they were bringing Carmen’s six-year-old daughter, Chantelle, who was quite sexually experienced in her own right. I was beside myself with excitement at the prospect of making love with another little girl.

I’d always seen female children as beautiful, even when I was that young myself, but this study had laid my pedophilic tendencies bare, revealing a deep-banked lust that threatened to consume me whole.

My first glimpse of Chantelle did nothing to cool my ardor. On her previous visit, Erica had praised the child’s loveliness, and this enchanting auburn-haired pixie lived up to her aunt’s words and then some. I was smitten at first glance.

As it turned out, little Chantelle had her own story to tell. Once the four of us had settled down with glasses of wine and a can of soda for Chantelle, she gave me a huge grin.

“I’m a cheerleader!” she said, her enthusiasm downright contagious.

“At your age? Very impressive,” I replied. “Are you into competitive cheerleading?”

“Uh-huh! It’s really fun.” The glint in Chantelle’s eyes told me there was more to this fun than she was telling.

“What’s the most fun part about it?” I asked, probing for details.

The child hesitated, glancing at her mother.

“You can tell Suzanne anything, pumpkin,” Carmen said. “She’s like us.”

Chantelle giggled, hugging herself. “Well, I like how Annie puts her finger in my kitty when they lift me!”

That was a thrilling surprise, to say the least. I wanted to know more. “Is Annie one of the cheerleaders?”

“Yeah. She’s eleven, but she ‘specially likes littler girls, like me. She says I’m her favorite!”

“So Annie touches you that way on purpose?”

“Yeah. The coach says we’re not s’posed to do naughty touching when there’s, y’know, people watching, but Annie does anyway. We can put our hands on each other’s butts when we’re cheerleading, but that’s all.” She giggled. “It’s okay for us to naughty touch after, though – like, um, in the changing room, or the shower.”

“Did it surprise you, the first time Annie put her finger into your kitty?”

“It totally did. But I liked it, a whole lot! I told her she could touch me that way any time.”

I could feel that familiar throb building between my thighs. “How did that make her feel?”

Chantelle was shifting about in the chair, clearly getting aroused. “She loved it! After that, me and her were girlfriends, sort of.” Leaning forward, she lowered her voice, as if sharing a secret. “One time after practice, I got Annie to come to the bathroom with me, so we could do sexy stuff!”

“That sounds amazing. Will you tell me about it?”

“Oh, sure. I had her come in the stall with me, then I pulled down my underpants and held up my skirt so she could see everything. Then I told her she could touch me, and she started rubbing my kitty. After a little bit, Annie licked her fingers and told me she liked how I tasted, and could she put her mouth on me. I told her sure, then she came close and started licking.”

“Had she ever done something like that before?”

“Lots of times, ‘cause she’s a lesbian. Her cousin Felicity taught her how. She’s seventeen and in high school. I like Felicity a lot. She’s one of our cheer coaches!”

I glanced at Carmen, who was smiling. “It’s true,” she said. “We’ve had them both over for fun and games.”

I turned back to Chantelle. “Did you lick Annie in the bathroom?”

“Yeah! She’s yummy. That was the first time, but we’ve done it a bunch more since then.”

By then, my lust was at fever pitch. If it hadn’t happened already, I was on the verge of soaking through the back of my dress. Glancing around at my guests, I said. “So, um… are we ready to have fun?”

“Well, I certainly am,” Carmen murmured. Getting to her feet, she began to unfasten the buttons of her blouse. “Suzanne, you’re even sexier than Erica said you were. I can’t wait to see you out of that dress.”

“Thanks,” I said. “You’re pretty fucking hot yourself.”

Erica gestured toward her niece. “She’s ahead of us.”

Sure enough, Chantelle had taken off nearly all her clothes. As I watched, she slipped out of her panties, let them drop to the carpet, then spread her arms wide, declaring. “Here I am!”

My eyes were drawn to the cute puffiness of her pussy. I only got a brief glimpse, because Chantelle immediately began to masturbate, trailing a finger through her slit, then dipping inside those tender folds.

The adults began to disrobe. Neither Erica nor Carmen had bothered with panties or a bra, so they were nude before I was.

Leaving our clothes behind, we adjourned to my bedroom, where I presented Erica with the nude posters of Emma Watson and Hilary Duff she’d asked me for. I’d created them using an AI program that removed clothing from an image.

“Oh, my goodness!” Carmen exclaimed, looking around at the similar posters on my walls. “Where did you get these?”

“Made them myself,” I said. “It’s done with an AI program I have.”

Carmen smiled mischievously. “I need a copy of that program.”

I thought Chantelle would be fascinated by my posters; instead, she stepped in and planted her mouth on my cunt. Her tongue emerged to separate my labial folds, then she began to lick me.

“We decided to pair you up with Chantelle first,” said Erica. “I could tell by the way you’ve been looking at her that you’ve got one hell of a crush on my little girl. Me and Carmen, we’ll watch you two fuck until we feel like making it a foursome.”

Somehow I managed to stagger over to the bed, where I stretched out, thighs spread invitingly for my six-year-old lover. Going down on all fours, Chantelle got back to licking me, her tongue dancing over my vulva like a caressing flame. No doubt about it, this little girl was well versed in the art of cunnilingus, and why not? She’d had her mother and aunts as lovers since she was four, and they soon taught little Chantelle to love them in return. To her, lesbian sex was as natural as breathing.

As Chantelle ate me, she slipped a hand between her thighs and began to fondle herself, a sight that stirred my arousal even higher. I was already imagining what it would be like to taste that sweet puffy slit, to the point of licking my lips in anticipation.

Erica and Carmen stretched out on the other side of the bed, nestled into one another and lay entwined,  watching Chantelle have her wicked way with me. Erica had an arm draped over her sister’s hip and a hand moving between Carmen’s thighs. I wondered how many times they had fucked since first exploring incest as little girls. It pleased me to muse on this incestuous bond between siblings, one they’d kept simmering between them into adulthood. Not for the first time, I felt a pang of regret that I’d never had a sister of my own.

Passing the time discussing sex with Chantelle and her relations had been enough to work me up before we’d even undressed, so I was in a complete state by this point, ready to go off like a rocket. I could feel the approach of my longed-for release – slowly at first, then with increasing speed, like a train running out of control and off the rails. Soon, my young lover’s tongue had me tumbling over the precipice and into the sweet oblivion of orgasm.

I didn’t bother holding back with my cries of pleasure. Wave after wave of pure sensation swept over me, and soon, I was a quivering mass of flesh, small shockwaves of pleasure buzzing throughout my body as I lay there recovering from the miracle of being loved by a child who was probably still in kindergarten.

Looking up, I saw both Erica and Carmen giving me knowing smiles. “Quite the prodigy, isn’t she?” Erica murmured.

“Incredible,” I mumbled, sitting up to take a swallow of water from the bottle on my nightstand. “I’ve been with seasoned dykes who couldn’t eat pussy like that. You should be proud of her.”

“Oh, we are, we are,” Carmen said. “Now… what are you going to do for her?” She jerked a thumb in her daughter’s direction.

I glanced down to a wondrous sight: little Chantelle stretched out, legs spread wide and both hands behind her head. Her slit was slightly open, the pink interior making me think of strawberry candy. “My turn!” she chirped, giving her hips a little wiggle.

“She’s absolutely luscious,” Carmen assured me. “I’ve never tasted a sweeter pussy.”

My mouth was watering in anticipation as I positioned myself between the child’s thighs, pausing just long enough to breathe in her scent, a perfume that had my head spinning. Extending my tongue, I trailed the tip through Chantelle’s opening, the sharp tang of her cunt. Her mother was right – she was delicious.

I began to bathe the rosy cleft with deeper, thirstier licks – and then my doorbell rang. I instantly knew who it was and what she wanted.

“That would be Hannah,” I said, raising my head.

Apparently Erica, who had met and shared a passionate kiss with Hannah on her last visit, had given her sister the details about my pedo-curious neighbor, because Carmen’s eyes lit right up. She said, “I’ll let her in. Keep doing what you’re doing, Suzanne.” She rose from the bed and exited the room, still completely naked.

As I continued to go down on Chantelle, I heard the voices of Carmen and Hannah, accompanied by the blissful purrs of my underage lover.

“Oh, my,” I heard my neighbor say. “Aren’t you a lovely sight! I’m Hannah; I live next door.”

“I know. I’ve heard some very interesting things about you, Hannah. I’m Carmen, Erica’s younger sister. We’re enjoying ourselves in the bedroom. Care to join us?”

“Oh, of course! I heard Suzy having what sounded like a very powerful orgasm, and decided to crash the party.”

“Erica told us you’d probably be dropping by,” Carmen said. “Come with me… the fun and games are just getting started.” There were laughs as they approached the bedroom.

I could only imagine the sight that greeted my neighbor as she peered through the door. I was bent over six-year-old Chantelle with my mouth fastened to her sweet pussy, Erica masturbating as she watched, all of us naked. Stealing a quick glance, I was pleased to see Hannah removing her own clothes. Like Erica and Carmen, she wore nothing beneath her outer garments, which were soon discarded.

Closing my eyes, I gave my full attention to the little girl spread out before me, going down on her with every trick I had in my oral repertoire. Going by Chantelle’s response, it was working, too. her thighs were quivering, mewls of delight escaping her lips. Her fingers were snarled in my hair, and I could feel her grip tighten as I brought her closer to ecstasy.

Oh, my Lord,” Hannah breathed. She knelt on the bed, drawing close for a good view of what my mouth was doing to this little girl. A gasp escaped her lips, and I wondered if she was playing with herself, or one of the other women was sampling Hannah’s treats. I felt some movement, but wasn’t sure what it was, so I raised my eyes just long enough to see Carmen licking my neighbor from behind, long licks that trailed from Hannah’s cunt to her anus. Erica was standing, driving her fingers in and out of Carmen’s pussy, fucking her sister so hard that she squished with each stroke.

I continued to feast on Chantelle’s puffy slit. She wasn’t exactly juicy, but it’s not as easy for little girls to lubricate compared to grown women. I kept at it, though, and eventually coaxed her nectar forth. She loved it, squirming beneath me as I lavished her with kisses, licks, and nibbles, approaching what I naturally assumed was her first orgasm of the day.

Soon, her movements were becoming more and more insistent, until she was thrusting her vulva against my mouth. Moments later, a massive orgasm seized Chantelle, and her squeals of delight filled the room. I continued to lick the child as she peaked, then gently nuzzled her slit while she floated back to earth.

Panting for breath, Chantelle nestled into my arms. We shared a few luscious, passionate kisses, then her attention was captured by her mother, her aunt, and my neighbor, all making love in a heated tangle. My sleepy-eyed lover pointed at Hannah, who was going down on Carmen, and asked, “Who’s that with Mommy?”

I gazed at her, marveling that this child of six was so comfortable with her sexuality that she was perfectly happy to have a woman she’d never met watch her receiving oral from a grownup. It occurred to me that Chantelle was living proof of how advantageous it was for a little girl to embrace her sexual nature from an early age.

Placing a kiss on her nose, I murmured, “That’s my neighbor Hannah. She likes little girls, the same way I do. She’s never… been with one before, though.”

Chantelle went from relaxed to alert in an instant. “Cool! She can do stuff to me if she wants. D’you think she would like to lick my kitty?”

“Maybe, but only if you want her to.”

Chantelle smiled. “Oh, I do! Doing sex with pretty ladies is even better than ice cream! And I LOVE ice cream.”

“Are you saying you’d let any lady lick you if she wanted to?”

She thought for a moment. “Well, no. Only if Mommy says it’s okay.” She paused, watching the others fuck. “Do you think Mommy will let Miss Hannah lick me? It sure looks like she would.”

I had to smile at that. “Yes, sweetie. I’m sure she’d be okay with it.”

“Good,” Chantelle said, then gave an enormous yawn. “Well, if she likes, Miss Hannah can wake me up the way Mommy does ev’ry morning.” Her eyes drifted shut. “She – she always…” Right in the midst of speaking, the child nodded off in my arms, leaving me curious about what she’d meant by that last remark.

As the six-year-old dozed, I watched as the three women arranged themselves in a daisy chain. Hannah was licking Erica, who was licking her sister Carmen, who was licking Hannah. I found myself wondering who would be the first to come. Their mingled sounds of delight made it impossible to tell.

It turned out that Hannah was first, squealing loudly as her climax hit. Carmen did her best to gulp down my neighbor’s juices as they flowed from her vagina, but a few drops went astray. I can’t say I was surprised. Having gone down on Hannah more than a few times since we became friends, I can attest that she had the wettest pussy I’ve ever encountered in a sex partner.

Less than a minute later, Carmen had her own orgasm, immediately followed by Erica. Afterward, the three women lay sprawled about in a loose circle, working to catch their breath.

Hannah glanced my way, grinning when she saw me cradling the naked child, my hand resting on her flawless bottom. “Oh, what a darling!” she cried. “Suzanne, you gave her such a lovely orgasm that she fell asleep!”

“I suppose I did do that, but now it’s your turn. Chantelle wants to awaken with your mouth on her pussy,” I said. Turning to Carmen, I asked, “Your daughter also said, ‘Like Mommy does.’ What did she mean by that?”

She blushed slightly. “It’s this… regular thing I do with Chantelle. You see, whenever I wake my little girl in the morning, I like to make her come with my mouth. You know, before she gets out of bed. After all, what better way is there to start your day?”

Needless to say, I was enormously impressed by Carmen’s devotion.  Small wonder Chantelle is such a happy child! “What a lovely idea!” I exclaimed.

Hannah spoke up. “Um… so it’s okay if I do that to her?”

“Sure,” Carmen said. “It’s what she wanted from you, after all. Go ahead – make my little girl feel good.”

Still cuddling Chantelle, I positioned the girl on her back, then Hannah got between the sleeping child’s legs and began to adorn her mound with soft kisses. Then her tongue emerged, and she began to trace that smooth pink cleft, now and then pausing to savor the girl’s aroma before licking her again.

I moved in to get a closer look. Hannah wore a dreamy expression, her eyes glazed over with lust. I knew she’d longed to explore lesbian love with a little girl for years… and at long last, her fantasy was coming true. By then, she’d covered Chantelle’s pussy with her mouth, probing inside with her tongue.

Soon, Chantelle began to stir, her breath growing ragged as she responded to the oral love my neighbor was giving her. I wondered what was happening in her dream right then

The child’s eyes opened, and she smiled at me as I cuddled her close. My God, she was enchanting.

Then she looked down between her legs, cooing with delight when she saw Hannah licking her gently, focusing on her tiny clit. Chantelle lay back with a happy sigh, spreading her legs ever wider. “Yes. Lick me, please,” she said in a quivering voice. Then her eyes met mine. “Miss Suzanne… can I get a kiss?”

I leaned down, my heart going ninety miles an hour, and our mouths met. As our kiss deepened, I felt my body and soul glow with the love I felt for this divine creature. She was a marvelous kisser, well-trained by her mother and aunt. Her tongue engaged mine, and then they were caught up in a playful dance.

Within a couple of minutes, Chantelle began to moan as what I now knew to be her third orgasm of the day began to manifest itself. I watched as the child’s eyes took on the glazed look of ecstasy, then she cried, “Oh! Oooooohh yes, oh, YES!” She shook helplessly in my arms as the climax took her, then went completely limp. Hannah stayed with her while she came, lightly nuzzling Chantelle’s glistening sex until her movements ceased, with only small tremors remaining in the aftermath of her orgasm.

“Thank you,” Chantelle whispered as, once again, she dozed off in my arms. I wanted her to stay there all night so I could awaken her the same way Carmen did, but obviously that wasn’t going to happen.

I carefully disentangled myself from Chantelle and drew a sheet over her bare body, then we four women went to the living room for a drink and a chat. We didn’t bother getting dressed.

As we sipped wine, Carmen asked, “Can my daughter and I visit you again sometime? She really likes you… and so do I.”

Placing a hand on hers, I replied, “If you don’t, my feelings will be hurt.”

About half an hour later, Chantelle woke and wandered out into the living room to find us. The sight of the nude child had my lust stirring again, but I sensed that our sex party was over for the day.

Erica, Carmen, and Chantelle got dressed to leave shortly thereafter, and we all exchanged kisses. Hannah and I remained naked, and I knew that for her, at least, the fun had just begun.

When they’d left, Hannah looked at me and said, “Oh, my God. My first time with a little girl, finally. It was even better than I’d hoped. Chantelle’s pussy was delicious. I loved going down on her.”

“Me too,” I said.

“I want you now,” she said, cupping her left breast.

I glanced at the clock. “Are you sure? Won’t your husband be home soon?”

“Let him listen in from our apartment. He knows you and I have fucked.”

“He does?”

“I told him I was into women on our first date. Doesn’t bother him at all. He’ll probably jerk off while listening.”

“Will you tell him about making love to Chantelle?”

“Hell, no. He’d freak out. That’s not his thing at all.”

With that, we went into my bedroom and fucked for the rest of the afternoon. Maybe Hannah’s husband listened in, maybe not. I didn’t ask, and I didn’t care. My only interest right then was in Hannah, who I brought to two frenzied orgasms.

As we nestled together afterward, I thought about what an absolutely perfect day it had been, thanking my lucky stars that I’d had come up with this idea for a dissertation study.

On to Chapter Seven!

The Evil That Men Do, Chapter 14

  • Posted on March 26, 2026 at 2:44 pm

The Story Thus Far

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter Twelve: A sleepover is in progress at Terry’s place while he is out. When the girls retire to their rooms, Halee phones her girlfriend Bethany and puts her on speaker to hear her younger sister Naomi and Chelsey going at it through their adjoining walls, and a good time is had by all. Upon returning home, Terry does some work on an idea for a new novel after months of inaction. Mallory is still unsure what to do with the family farm, and Nettie runs some ideas about the recent kidnapping case past Agent Ramscone.

Chapter Thirteen: Four members of the Pussy Posse — Mallory, Julie, Jamie, and Emma — are spending quality time together, along with Julie’s younger sister Vicky. News, gossip, memories, and innuendo are bandied about. Vicky hesitantly speaks of a recent sleepover where she overheard a couple of the girls saying hurtful things about her, an incident that still stings badly. The four women offer her comfort and understanding, which soon becomes something more.

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

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

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

by Rachael Yukey

Now I just wanna get close to you
And taste your love so sweet
And I just wanna make love to you
Feel your body heat
In the Still of the Night 
Whitesnake, 1987

Hannah’s ringtone was going off. She was lying atop Nettie on the couch in her Johnstown apartment, caught up in a smoldering kiss. Reluctantly breaking away, Hannah blindly reached out to paw at the end table where the mood-killing smartphone continued to ring.

“Sorry, babe,” she muttered, “I’m a doctor and a mom. I—”

“You have to check your phone. I get it.”

Squinting at the phone screen, Hannah blinked in surprise. “It’s Ralph. That’s—”

“Bethany’s dad, yeah.”

Hannah swiped the accept button, bringing the device to her ear. “Hey Ralphie—how’s it hangin’?”

“Long and hairy, hard to carry,” the male voice on the other end boomed. The two of them laughed. Nettie rolled her eyes.

“What’s up?” Hannah wanted to know.

“Two things, actually.”

“Yeah?”

“Well, first off—Christ. I don’t even know how to say it.”

Alarmed, Hannah rolled off of Nettie, gracefully twisting around and rising to her feet. “One word at a time usually works best, dude.”

“I’m pretty sure our kiddo is having cybersex with somebody. I’ve heard it twice.”

The tension whooshed out of Hannah in a rush. “Oh, is that it?” Visibly relieved, she crossed the room and collapsed into the armchair.

“Is that it? Hannah, Christ knows who she’s linked up with on the internet. It could be some creepazoid in his forties who’s working on bamboozling her into meeting up and—”

Hannah burst out laughing. “Relax, hon. Bethany’s cyber partner is a girl her own age. Someone she knows personally, not just online.”

“Oh.” There was a long silence. “So—you know about it, then.”

“Sure—so what? It’s just two teenage girls discovering themselves. I’ve met the other girl, and she’s really sweet. No harm done, right?”

“Yeah, I guess. We should make sure that’s all it is, though.”

Hannah pursed her lips, thinking it over. “Yeah. I don’t think Bethany would fool around with strangers online, but assumptions like that are how bad shit happens. You wanna ask her about it, or should I?”

Ralph laughed. “Not me! That’s a mom conversation.”

“Fair enough. What was the other thing?”

A sigh from the other end. “The company’s sending me to fucking Germany to oversee an LNG installation. This Ukraine thing has our whole industry all kitty-wampus. I’m supposed to leave day after tomorrow.”

“Ralphie—that sucks. Do you need me to come and get Bethany?”

“That’s a hell of a drive for you on short notice. I could fly her to Duluth; that’s only a couple of hours from where you’re at. Only thing is, the plane would leave in just over two hours, and it’s like a ninety minute flight. Are you able to head up to Duluth within the next hour or so?”

Hannah looked to Nettie, who was still lying on the couch. Sorry, she mouthed silently.

“Yeah,” she said aloud. “I’ve got the day off. I can be there before her plane lands. How much for half the ticket?”

“I’ll take care of the ticket, Hannah. One thing, though—can I have her for a couple weeks if I get back before the school year starts?”

Hannah smiled. “So long as she wants to go, have I ever stopped you from seeing Bethany when you want? Hell, if you can get some time off before the snow flies, you should come and spend a week or two up here. It’s gorgeous.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks a bunch, Banana.”

“No worries. Text me her flight number, okay? Bye, Ralph.”

“Bye.”

Ending the call, Hannah looked over to Nettie, apology in her eyes. “How would you feel about a spur-of-the-moment day trip to Duluth?”

***

Mallory scooped the last of the steaks from the grill, slapped it on a serving platter with the others, then set her spatula aside. “Beef’s up,” she announced. “Well done on the blue plate, medium on the yellow, rare on the red.” Taking up a pair of tongs, she began to deftly extract skewer sticks adorned with shrimp, pepper slices, and chunks of onion. “Shrimp’s done, too.”

Vicky and Emma were the first to step forward, loading up their plates with steak, shrimp skewers, and Mallory’s homemade potato salad. Julie emerged from the house, a bottle of Sprite in one hand and a fifth of vodka in the other. Setting these down on the big lawn table she’d purchased with Mallory the week before, she then helped herself to a steaming plate of food. Jamie peeled herself from the lounger she’d been sunning herself on, collected her own plate and dished up.

Mallory was the last to settle in, taking a bite of steak and nodding her approval. Julie was busily pouring beverages.

“None for me,” said Emma, holding up the can of peach-flavored water she’d been sipping from. “I have to drive home after I eat.”

“You can have one if you want, Vick,” said Julie. “But just one! I’m not having Lisa come after my ass for getting you wasted.”

Vicky laughed. “Sure, I’ll try it. This is what you guys always used to drink when you hung out, right?”

Mallory nodded. “Tastier than beer, cheaper than whiskey. No vodka for me, sweetie. Just plain Sprite.”

Julie raised an eyebrow. “You going dry on me? It’s been over a week since you’ve had a drink.”

“For some reason it just seems completely unappetizing to me, ever since the fishing trip up by Bronning,” Mallory said with a shrug. “Couldn’t tell you why.”

“Whatevs,” said Julie, passing the drinks around. She raised hers. “Cheers, ladies.” Four cups and a can came together, and everyone took a sip.

“I forgot how nice it is out here, Mal,” said Jamie, cutting into her steak.

“So did I, really,” Mallory replied.

“Yeah, but—you know, it’s kind of weird to think that in all the time we’ve known each other, I can count on my fingers the number of times I’ve been on this farm.”

“With a couple fingers left over, probably,” said Mallory. “I don’t remember you hanging out over here, ever. You came to pick me up once in awhile after you got your driver’s license, and that was only if I couldn’t get a ride from Dad. I’m not sure you ever even got out of the car.”

“Oh, I was in the house a few times, but just for a minute or two. I don’t think I ever saw your bedroom.”

“I sure saw yours,” said Mallory, snickering. Laughter floated around the table.

“Still trying to decide whether you want to sell the place, Mal?” Emma inquired.

“Yep, and I still have no idea. Either way, I’m either gonna have to board the house up or fix it. Oh, it’s still liveable now, but five years down the road? Probably not.”

“Mine’s not looking so hot, either,” said Jamie, to a general murmur of agreement. They’d spent the better part of the day helping Jamie look over her childhood home, and although there were no immediate structural concerns, there was certainly a great deal of work to be done.

“Not the worst problem to have,” Emma opined. “You both have something you can live in, or sell off.”

“True story,” Jamie agreed. She turned her eyes to Vicky, who had been practicing, playing her guitar in the front yard while Mallory got the grill going and cooked the steaks. “You play good, little sister. What was that thing you were working on?”

“A fantasia by a guy named Weiss. It’s a transcription. He wrote it for the lute, not the guitar.”

“Nice piece, though,” said Jamie.

“Yeah,” said Vicky, “but it’s better on the lute. I want a baroque lute, but they’re seriously expensive. Dad and I are shopping around, but—”

Mallory nodded, her expression thoughtful. “I remember our early music director saying something along those lines—that you can get a renaissance lute for a pretty reasonable amount, but a baroque instrument is like buying a car.”

Vicky made a face. “Something like that. Even a used thirteen-course made by a top-notch luthier goes for five or six thousand.”

Mallory and Julie shared a look, then Julie turned back to her sister. “How much is Dad willing to put up?”

“I think he wants to keep it under three. That’s what he paid for my guitar. And I have about a thousand saved.”

Julie nodded slowly. “Okay. You find one you want—I mean really want—then come tell me how much you need to make up the difference.”

Vicky’s mouth dropped open. “Really?!”

“Really. I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t think you were serious, but I’ve been listening to you practice for the last hour. You’re serious.”

Getting to her feet, Vicky rushed to where Julie sat, throwing both arms around her older sister from behind. “Oh my GOD, I can’t believe this… you’re the best big sister in the world!”

“And don’t you forget it,” murmured Julie, hugging Vicky’s arms to her chest.

Emma swallowed her last bite of potato salad, then set her fork down. “Girls, it’s crappy to eat and run, but I’d better point the pickup north. I have to do a network design proposal tomorrow morning.” She rose from her chair. “But I’ll wash my own dishes before I go.”

“The hell you will,” said Mallory, getting to her feet and coming round the table. “Just leave ‘em there. It was so great to see you.” She wrapped her arms around Emma, who returned the embrace, squeezing tightly.

It took a moment to register on Emma that Mallory’s shoulders were heaving. “Hey, Mal—are you crying?”

Mallory lifted her head from Emma’s chest, looking up with a wistful smile. “Maybe just a little. Coming home has made me crazy emotional, and I’ve missed you so much.”

Emma placed her hand on the back of Mallory’s head, drawing it back against her breasts. “That goes for both of us. We’ll see lots more of each other this summer, okay?”

“You got it,” Mallory agreed, somewhat muffled by tears and Emma’s chest. Julie was now standing, and she encircled the two of them in her long arms. Emma let the hug go on a few moments longer, then gently extricated herself. She turned to Jamie, who had also risen to her feet, and embraced her. Both women shared a loving hug, then parted.

Emma glanced toward Vicky, who was still seated, looking up at the rest of them uncertainly. “C’mere, you—get in on this,” she said.

Vicky was out of her chair in a flash, practically flinging herself into Emma’s waiting arms. When they parted, Emma clutched her shoulders. “It was awesome hanging out with you today,” she said. “If you’d been a bit older fifteen years ago, you’d have fit right in with the Pussy Posse. Anyone who doesn’t get how cool you are can go fuck a toadstool, you hear me?”

Vicky gave a bashful smile, but seemed at a loss for words. Emma released her with a pat on the hip, and turned to cross the yard to her truck. “Night-night, ladies,” she called out. The others shouted their goodbyes,

***

“Think I can see Halee tonight?” Bethany Fletcher tried to make it sound casual, but the girl was practically squirming in her chair.

Her mother looked up from her menu, a tolerant smile touching the corners of her mouth. “Hmmm—let me think about that. It is now six PM, and it’s a two-hour drive to get home. How far from here to Bronning, Nettie?”

Nettie looked up from the drinks menu. “About the same. Once you hit Perry, you can branch off to either Bronning or Johnstown. It’s roughly the same distance either way.” She turned her attention back to the menu.

“So,” Hannah went on, her eyes back on her cuisine choices, “by the time we finish eating, we won’t be in either location until nine or so, and you think I’m going to choose Bronning instead of my own apartment? I think the word you’re looking for is ‘delusional’, sweetheart.”

Bethany regarded her mom with a mixture of love and exasperation. They’d had a fun afternoon shopping in Duluth and taking a boat tour of the harbor, but all she could think about at this point was being in the same space as Halee, holding and kissing her as an actual girlfriend for the very first time.

“Come on, Mom,” she said at last, reluctantly opening her own menu. “There’s gotta be something we can do—”

“Not really,” Hannah replied. “Sorry, but I have to work tomorrow morning, which requires me to be—wait for it—in Johnstown.”

Bethany blew out her breath, accepting defeat. Turning to the sandwich section of the menu, she forced her mind to the daunting task of choosing between the bacon cheeseburger and the mushroom swiss.

“I have an idea,” said Nettie, setting her own menu aside.

Bethany’s head jerked up. “Yeah?”

“I’m heading home in the morning. Since your mom has to work anyway, maybe she’ll let you tag along.” She cocked her head in Hannah’s direction.

Bethany forgot all about her burger options. “Mom? Can I? Please?”

***

Victoria Hansen lay on the couch in the living room of Mallory’s childhood home, basking in a sense of sisterhood and belonging she’d never experienced among girls her own age. Jamie was stretched out in the recliner; Mallory sat on one end of the love seat. Julie lay on the other cushion, her head on Mallory’s lap, long legs sprawled over the arm. Vicky didn’t see how her sister could possibly be comfortable like that, but Julie seemed in no hurry to move.

The conversation had lulled, and Vicky’s thoughts were drifting back to that morning at Jamie’s house. She felt a tingling sensation between her legs as she thought of the four women surrounding her, touching her; at the memory of Mallory’s fingers driving her to the pinnacle of ecstasy. The insinuations she’d heard about past experiences of the Pussy Posse in that house drifted through her mind, and that was somehow even hotter. She realized her panties were steadily growing damp.

“You know,” said Jamie, breaking the silence, “this place reminds me of the house you live in, Vicky. I was over there a lot more than I was here, and looking around it just seems like—I dunno. A smaller version of the same design, maybe?”

“It probably is,” said Mallory. “I went through all the old papers when I inherited a couple years back, and learned a heck of a lot. Basically, this is a Sears and Roebuck house. From a kit, believe it or not. They shipped in all the lumber, nails, shingles, plaster mix—literally everything you needed to build the thing. My great-great-grandpa assembled it with help from a bunch of local farmers. Looking around Julie and Vicky’s, I’d bet good money it’s the same thing, just a larger model. I asked Jason once, and he said the old records were lost, but  reckons I’m probably right.”

“I didn’t even know that was a thing,” said Vicky.

“A lot of these old country houses were like that. They shipped the stuff in by rail,” said Julie. “It’d be easy at home; just fifty yards or so from the railroad tracks. I don’t know what they did out here.”

“There’s an abandoned railroad bed on the opposite side of the highway from us, maybe a hundred yards into the woods,” Mallory supplied. “People still use it as an ATV trail. They’d have stopped the train there, then used horses and skids to drag the supplies out.”

“Sounds like a righteous pain in the ass,” said Jamie, chuckling.

“I’m sure it was,” said Mallory.

“I know Jason and Lisa’s place has a couple of additions on it,” said Jamie. “Is the kitchen wing on this house an addition, Mallory?”

“Yeah,” Mallory replied. “It was really a popular thing in the 1920s to add a room specifically for cooking. That’s when the kitchen got tacked on. It got power under the Rural Electrification Act in the thirties.”

“I’m surprised that’s all they did, with the number of kids farmers used to have,” said Jamie. “This place can’t have very many bedrooms.”

“Three,” said Mallory. “One downstairs, two upstairs. I was an only child, so I’ve only ever seen one of the upstairs bedrooms used for sleeping. The other one’s been storage space for as long as I can remember.”

“Those old farmers didn’t mind stacking their kids four or five deep in a bedroom,” Julie pointed out.

“We never minded stacking girls four or five deep in a bedroom,” said Mallory.

Julie, Jamie, and Mallory all cracked up. Vicky smiled, doing her best to keep what was really on her mind from showing. The images Mallory’s statement conjured up were steamy and compelling.

“Still don’t,”  Julie added, eliciting another round of hilarity, but one that was shorter-lived. A  contemplative silence filled the room. Vicky wondered if the others in the room were having the same tantalizing ideas that she was.

“Speaking of which,” Mallory said a moment later, “are you crashing with us tonight, Jamie?”

Jamie smiled seductively. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Vicky’s arousal was steadily growing in intensity, but there was something else, too. A hollow pit in her belly. Was it—jealousy?

Keep it to yourself, Vick, she instructed herself firmly. That’s your sister, for fuck’s sake! What’s wrong with you, anyway?

“Where am I sleeping?” she asked, keeping her voice casual.

Julie’s head twisted in Vicky’s direction, scrutinizing her carefully. She then swung her legs from the arm of the love seat, twisting around and coming to her feet in one fluid motion. Crossing the room, she planted her ass on the arm of the couch where Vicky was stretched out, reaching down to toy with her sister’s hair.

“The bed’s a king-size, sis,” she said, her voice low. “There’s room for everyone, if we don’t mind snuggling.”

Vicky sat up, twisting around to meet Julie’s eyes. “Sounds nice,” she said, “b-but are you—I mean—were you going to, um—”

“We’re not just planning to sleep, if that’s what you’re asking,” Julie replied, a smile touching the corners of her lips.

Lying back, Mallory laced her fingers behind her head. “Might as well just come right out and talk about it. How are you feeling about what happened at Jamie’s today, Vicky?”

Vicky felt a smile take over. “It was so awesome,” she said. “I don’t remember ever feeling that good.”

Julie laid a hand on her sister’s cheek, gently caressing the tender skin. “That was just the tip of the iceberg, Vick,” she said. “A taste. You can have the rest of the meal, if you want it.”

Vicky placed her hand on Julie’s, gripping it tightly. “We’re sisters,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. “Doesn’t that make it weird?”

“Not to me, it doesn’t,” said Julie. Rising from the arm of the couch, she scooted around to the middle cushion, coming to rest beside Vicky and pressing their thighs together. Darting her hand behind Vicky’s head, she pulled her close, their faces inches apart.

“Being sisters makes it extra special,” Julie murmured. “I want to make you feel amazing, because you’re my sister and I love you.”

“Whoa,” said Vicky. “That’s wild. I mean, I kind of feel the same way, but it’s hard to get past thinking it’s wrong.”

“Remember what we talked about earlier?” Julie replied. “It’s okay to be who you are, and to go after what you want. Me, I don’t want to live in a world where people caring for each other and making each other feel good is wrong.”

In her peripheral vision, Vicky was aware of Jamie folding the recliner in, rising, and moving to join Mallory on the love seat. She took all this in without her eyes ever wavering from Julie’s. Those eyes seemed to be boring into her soul.

Julie reached out, her thumb extended, to caress Vicky’s bottom lip. Vicky shivered deliciously, inhaling sharply through her teeth. By then, her panties were drenched, and she knew her internal debate was over and done with. Whatever was happening here tonight, she wanted to be a part of it.

“Have you ever been kissed, Vick?” Julie whispered. “Really kissed?” Vicky shook her head, unable to speak. “I want to be the first to give you one. Would you like that?” Vicky nodded, the words still trapped in her throat.

“Follow my lead, then,” murmured Julie. She leaned in those last couple of inches, pressing her open mouth to Vicky’s. At first Vicky remained relatively still, allowing her sister to tease her lips, capture them, lightly flick them with her tongue. Every nerve ending was alive, her senses deliciously attuned to the spell Julie was weaving with her kisses.

Finally Vicky could no longer remain idle, and she extended her tongue, brushing it across Julie’s lower lip. Julie shivered, her own tongue darting forward, making contact with Vicky’s. They teased the tips of each other’s tongues, lips tentatively opening wider. Julie slid her hand from Vicky’s cheek to the back of her head, intensifying the kiss as she did so. Still cautious but increasingly uninhibited, Vicky kissed her back, first copying her sister’s movements, then trying things on her own.

Julie laid her free hand on Vicky’s knee, then slid it upward, fingertips playing with the edge of her sister’s skirt. Vicky, her confidence mounting, slipped a hand beneath Julie’s top, tracing up and down the older woman’s ribcage, then splaying across the smooth flesh of her belly.

Now Julie was kissing along Vicky’s jawline, pausing to nibble at her sibling’s earlobe before nuzzling her way down to the neck. Vicky’s arousal soared, her breath  becoming increasingly unsteady. Tilting her head to afford Julie better access, she saw that Jamie was locked in a passionate embrace with Mallory. The two women were sharing a torrid kiss.

Mallory deftly extricated herself from Jamie’s arms and stood, beckoning Jamie to join her. The lithe brunette rose gracefully, hooking an arm around Mallory’s waist.

“How about we take this to the bedroom?” said Mallory, addressing the room.

“Sounds like a plan,” Julie agreed, giving her sister one last kiss before rising to her feet. She turned to face Vicky, both arms extended. Vicky took her sister’s hands, allowing herself to be pulled to a standing position.

Julie led the way back to the old master bedroom, Vicky’s hand in hers. Stopping just short of the bed she turned around and kissed her sister full on the mouth. Vicky melted into the embrace, arms twining around Julie, their bodies pressed snugly together as they kissed.

From the corner of her eye Vicky saw Mallory tumbling onto the bed, then scooting backward until her head rested on a pillow. Jamie came in right behind, pressing Mallory to the bed and raining kisses on her face and neck. Mallory was tugging Jamie’s blouse up, baring her torso. Jamie reared up like a cobra, tugging the garment over her head and off, then flinging it across the room. Mallory sat up, pulling her t-shirt over her head.

Disengaging from Vicky, Julie came up behind Jamie to unclasp her bra and cast it aside. Mallory was fumbling with her own bra clasp. Julie knelt behind Jamie, raining kisses on her shoulders and the back of the neck, then reached around to cup her friend’s bare breasts. Jamie shivered. “Fuck, I’ve missed this,” she sighed.

Vicky, now feeling more certain of herself, leaned down to grasp the hem of her sister’s tee. Grinning over her shoulder, Julie raised her arms, allowing Vicky to remove the obstructing garment. The bra was next to go. Jamie was bent over Mallory and sucking a nipple, teasing the other between finger and thumb.

Vicky slipped both hands around her sister, just like she’d seen Julie do to Jamie, but stopped short of the breasts, suddenly shy. “Can I touch—”

“God, yes,” Julie practically hissed. Vicky began to fondle Julie’s luscious tits, excitement mounting inside as she felt her sister’s body respond, heard her breath quicken.

Little mewling sounds were escaping Mallory’s lips, her shorts-clad hips rising and falling, rising and falling. Raising her mouth from a moistened nipple, Jamie purred, “That working for you, little sister?”

“I’ve been—” Mallory gasped as the tips of Jamie’s fingers inched beneath the waistband of her shorts. “I’ve been a fucking loaded pistol for, like, a week.”

“I’m on it,” Jamie assured her, unbuttoning the shorts. Mallory lifted her butt, and Jamie swept the remainder of the clothing down and off in one deft motion. Settling between Mallory’s legs, she slipped two fingers into her friend’s juicy cunt.

Peering over Julie’s shoulder, still fondling her sister’s tits from behind, Vicky watched in awe as Jamie worked her fingers in and out of Mallory’s vagina, a wet sloshing noise accompanying each thrust.

“Oh… oh, God…” Mallory whimpered. Then Jamie dipped down to lick, obscuring the view as her tongue slipped between the folds of Mallory’s labia.

The response was immediate. Mallory threw her head back with a ragged cry, clutching handfuls of the bedding.

Vicky had never witnessed anything quite so hot in all of her life. She felt ready to come right there on the spot, without even being touched. She’d gone from caressing Julie’s breasts to groping them, and began to pepper her sister’s back with kisses and playful love-bites.

Julie looked back, her face flushed and a lustful glint in her eyes. “I can tell you’re ready to fuck, sis, but you wanna have a little fun first?”

Vicky, the last of her inhibitions gone, nodded enthusiastically, eager to soak up as much new carnal experience as she could.

Julie, already kneeling on the bed, gestured Vicky around to Jamie’s other side. Vicky was quick to comply, settling onto the bed as Julie tugged on the sash of Jamie’s skirt.

Jamie was fingerfucking Mallory with gusto, head still buried between the diminutive blonde’s thighs as she licked her clit. Mallory was moaning long and low, her hands firmly clasped to Jamie’s head.

“Help me with this,” Julie murmured sidelong, grabbing one edge of the skirt along with the waistband of Jamie’s panties. Vicky copied her sister’s actions on the other side. Realizing what her friends were up to, Jamie shifted so Vicky and Julie were able to shimmy the garments down and off, baring her lower half.

Julie ran a hand up her old friend’s now-naked thigh, cupping a buttock, then tracing her fingers through the crack of Jamie’s ass. Jamie ground herself against the bed, but managed to remain focused on the task of licking Mallory, whose moans were growing progressively louder.

Julie grinned at Vicky. “Touch her. See how wet she is.”

Vicky slid a hand up the inside of Jamie’s thigh, only to be rewarded with yet another jerk of the older woman’s hips. She let her palm drift over the buttocks for a moment, then slid her fingers into the fork of the thighs, feeling a jolt of electricity buzzing through her at this first opportunity to fondle another woman’s cunt. Seeking and finding Jamie’s clit, she went straight to work. Jamie began to make frenzied fucking motions, mashing Vicky’s hand into the bed with each thrust.

Squeezing her thighs tightly together, Vicky found herself rocking back and forth, sending delicious jolts of pleasure coursing through her body. She’d never have believed it until now, but if she kept this up for long enough, she could probably make herself come.

Julie was kneeling close behind, and Vicky shivered with arousal as her sister grasped the hem of the faded David Bowie t-shirt she wore, tugged it up and off, then deftly removed her bra.

Vicky held her breath, eagerly waiting to be touched, then felt Julie’s hand on her shoulder.

“Sure you’re okay with this?” her older sibling breathed.

Too keyed up to speak, Vicky gave an emphatic nod, then whimpered as Julie’s hands slid around to cup her breasts; briefly fondling them before flicking and teasing the taut nipples. She cried out when Julie’s lips lightly brushed her bare back. Her hands were shaking, but somehow she managed to keep fingering Jamie.

On the verge of release, Mallory tucked her head into her chest, let out a choked cry and began to pound the mattress with both fists. She finally scrabbled backwards and away from Jamie’s mouth, panting “Enough, enough,” then slumping back against the headboard.

Jamie pressed her forehead to the mattress, hips thrusting against Vicky’s fingers, a series of explosive gasps escaping as her own orgasm kicked in, rising to a brief scream. Her body froze for a few heartbeats, then with a mumbled, “God damn,” Jamie sank into the mussed sheets.

A surge of triumph surged through Vicky as she realized she had just, for the very first time, brought a lover to orgasm. Withdrawing from Jamie’s cunt—marveling all the while at how delightfully wicked just thinking the work “cunt” made her feel—she brought her hand close, studying the wetness that coated her fingers, taking a tentative sniff. The scent was thick and musky; compelling.

“Taste it,” Julie murmured, her chin resting on Vicky’s shoulder, still toying with her baby sister’s tits.

Vicky took two fingers into her mouth. The flavor was tangy and sharp; stronger than her own, which she’d sampled a few times. She shivered deliciously, already thinking about how cool it would be to go down on a girl, get a taste right from the source.

In the meantime, her sister’s caresses were sending Vicky’s arousal soaring, her breath growing hitchy and ragged.

“You’re getting pretty close, aren’t you?” Julie whispered, her lips grazing Vicky’s ear. She took her sister’s nipples between fingers and thumbs, giving them a playful squeeze.

Vicky nodded, her mouth working soundlessly. A bead of sweat rolled down her nose.

“Hmmm… we better do something about that!” Julie pushed on her shoulder and Vicky, caught off guard, tumbled to the bed. She got the idea right away, though, and quickly hiked her skirt above the waist.

Flashing a wolfish grin, Julie seized the waistband of her sister’s panties, yanking them down and off, then pressing them to her face. “Damn, you smell incredible,” she said.

In the meantime, Jamie was reaching around Julie’s waist, fumbling with the fastenings of her jeans. Julie allowed them to be removed, then knelt between her sister’s legs, using a finger to trace Vicky’s delicate pussy lips. Her cunt was an innie, its delicate treasures only revealed when Julie gently spread her open, like the petals of a flower.

“You have a beautiful pussy, sis,” she breathed. “Can I… put my mouth on it?”

“For God’s sake, Julie!” Vicky cried, “Stop asking my permission for everything and, and fuck me already!”

Julie was startled, but quickly joined Mallory and Jamie in their laughter. “Fair enough, little sister,” she said, working a finger inside Vicky’s dewy folds, gently teasing the entrance. Looking up, she asked, “Ever gone inside yourself, Vick?”

“Uh-huh.” Vicky was half crazed with the need for release, enough so that even that minimal response took some effort.

When Julie slid her finger all the way in,  brushing Vicky’s clit with the palm of her hand, the teen almost came on the spot. Then Julie’s tongue was there, darting between her pussy lips, taking up a fast back-and-forth motion in time with her thrusting finger.

That was all it took. Vicky came explosively, crying out over and over as she bucked wildly, making the bed frame creak.

As Vicky’s ecstasy waned, Julie’s head drifted up from between her legs, coming to rest instead on her belly. It dawned on Vicky that Julie was shuddering, her eyes glazed over in ecstasy.

Lifting her head, Vicky realized Mallory was flat on her back, licking her sister from below, while Jamie knelt to one side, fingering Julie from behind.

Reaching out with both hands, gently stroked her sister’s hair. “I love you so much, sis,” she murmured.

A series of sharp, hissed breaths through clenched teeth heralded Julie’s orgasm. Then she was gasping for air, squeezing Vicky around the waist for all she was worth. Finally she lay still.

Four weary but contented women drifted together in a shared embrace, basking in the aftermath of their loving. The rest was silence.

On to Chapter Fifteen!

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Lollipop Lane, Chapter 5

  • Posted on March 21, 2026 at 3:58 pm

by Emma

Chapter Five: Come for Mommy, Little One

“All right, girls,” Miss Ashcroft announced, briskly clapping her hands. “Mommies need some wine and nighttime air, and the space to say cruel and tender things about you where you can’t hear.” She bent to give my cheek the softest of pecks, almost as reassurance that she wouldn’t be too harsh in her gossip. “Be darlings and play nicely, but I want someone crying happy tears when we come back.”

With a kiss lazily blown into the room, she turned and swanned through the patio doors, glass in hand, followed by Miss Evangeline and Miss Rowan in a slow, decadent procession. All three of them were naked, casually so, like goddesses at a garden party run by Circe The scent of lemon verbena and honeysuckle curled through the air, laced unmistakably with sweat and sex.

And in their wake: unsupervised us.

Bunny dropped to all fours with a yip, wriggling her bunny-bottom as she scrambled after the twins, who were already circling her like cute baby wolves. One sniffed at her bottom, the other licked a shiny stripe across her face, and Bunny just giggled, her tongue out and her ass shifting from side to side like it was mulling things over.

“I’m ready!” she yipped, rolling over onto her back and pawing at the air, her legs spread shamelessly.

The dining room exploded with high-pitched arf–arfs and the sound of eager, lolling tongues finding purchase on whatever princess parts they could reach. One of the twins licked messily at Bunny’s pussy, the other straddled her face, lowering her bare slit to Bunny’s parted lips in an act more suggestive of sexual dominance than gratification.

Bunny got right to work, her tongue gliding from the little girl’s clit to her rosebud. I just stood there, frozen, blushing and definitely not breathing.

“Horny little jailbait bitches,” Trouble muttered. “You okay there, new girl?”

I turned. The fourteen-year-old punk princess was lounging against the kitchen island, naked from the waist down, dangling her own red thong from a fingernail. Her glittery MOLEST ME MOMMY tee was the only thing left to cover her body, and Trouble’s eyes were aimed at me.

“I—uh—yes. I’m fine?”

Trouble’s smirk was practically feral. “You don’t look fine. You look like someone trying really hard not to finger her ass while watching three girls tongue-fuck each other on a shag carpet.”

I flinched. I couldn’t help it. This girl scared the stuffing out of me. But oh, my GOD, did she turn me on. I didn’t know whether to turn tail and flee the room, or throw myself at her feet and say Do whatever you want with me.

Trouble prowled closer. “Hey, new girl – ever had someone sniff your pussy just to see what kind of mood you’re in?”

I was frozen, a deer in her predatory punk headlights. She was obviously a bully. And she was getting off on it. I could tell by the way her nipples were stiffening through the tee she wore, becoming increasingly visible with every crude word she spoke.

Trouble leaned in, her breath hot against my ear. “I know this is making you wet. I haven’t even touched you, yet here you are, your pussy as creamy as dessert. If I called you a cunt, you’d say, ‘Yes, I am,’ and thank me for it, wouldn’t you.”

It wasn’t a question.

“That’s not—”

“Ever had a meany big sister pin you down and force her fingers inside you?”

I swallowed hard. I was an only child, but one of my favorite masturbation fantasies was having an older sister to take charge of my life, everything from picking out my clothes to ordering me to go down on her. In my imagination, I always submitted gladly. Could Trouble be that sister? The idea warmed me, made me tingle all over.

She noticed it, too – and her wicked smile deepened. “There she is,” she growled. “There’s the nasty girl, cracking open. You’re trapped inside a kennel, cutie. At Lollipop Lane, you’re just another bitch in heat, with a puppy’s tongue teasing her clit.”

Raising a single finger, Trouble slowly trailed it down between my breasts. Not a rough touch; just enough pressure to make my nipples ache through the fabric.

Before I could stop her, before I even decided if I wanted to stop her, Trouble shoved me back against the island to press her thigh between mine, firm and insistent against my cunny. Her hands caged my hips, her mouth moved to within an inch of mine. “Be honest, little sis,” she murmured, rocking gently against me. “You wanna hump my leg, don’t you? That’s what all you puppy-girls want. Do it. Go on and hump my leg, you little slut…go on… fuck your big sister.”

My hips were already moving before my mind caught up—slowly at first, so maybe I could pretend it wasn’t happening. But my clit was aching from so much teasing and watching other girls be shameless for the pleasure of grown women. There was only so much a girl could take, and I’d hit my limit.

I whimpered, forehead pressed to Trouble’s shoulder, and began to grind into her– quick, desperate little thrusts, working up a friction lewd enough to make me blush, and just right enough to make me keep going. I sensed my bad-girl lover grinning above me, proud of how quickly she’d made me give in.

“That’s it, pup,” Trouble whispered. “Little bitch sister knows what she needs.” She didn’t move, she let me do the work, let me rub and rut and grind into her like a needy mess, her thigh flexing just enough to make me whine, my orgasm coming at me like a tsunami and I wanted it, I needed it, coming like a wildcat in heat humping this cocky fucking punk dyke. My white-knuckled hands gripped her ass, breath escaping my lips in frantic gasps—and then I was coming again, my body jerking in helpless spasms, groaning against her barely concealed breasts while my orgasm pulsed hot and humiliating through my core. Finally, I slumped against her, utterly spent, barely able to stand.

Trouble’s fingers curled under my chin and tilted my face up, peering at me like she was inspecting something precious. Then she kissed me, her tongue sliding inside, a perfect preview of what she could do with it between my legs, inside my bottom. She tasted like vape, cherry lip balm and a hint of pussy that I suspected she’d got from Miss Rowan.

Her mouth was wild and smug, fucking my mouth with a kiss that made it clear she’d completely bested me. And then she pulled back, licked her lips like I was still lingering on her tongue… and spat directly into my open mouth.

“That makes us sisters,” she hissed, “and you a good little bitch in heat.”

And without a flicker of hesitation, she swept one of the salad plates off the counter and let it crash dramatically to the floor, where it shattered.

“Oh, really, Trouble?” From the patio, Miss Rowan’s voice sliced through the air.

“Did I do that?” Trouble stuck out her tongue towards her mother, flipped the rest of us a double-finger salute, and ripped off her shirt, the last bit of clothing she wore. She didn’t even pretend to resist as Miss Rowan strode in, grabbed her by the hair, and dragged her up the staircase like a misbehaving kid. “I meant to do that!” she shrieked, laughing all the way.

On the carpet, Bunny moaned quietly as she watched Trouble’s forced exit, wiggling the fingers of one hand to wave goodbye. The twins were licking her cunt and anus, oblivious of all else.

I bent to pick up pieces of the shattered plate. Because that felt like something a sane person might do.

Mind you, by then I was anything but sane. But this was a beautiful, thrilling, soul-cleansing madness I’d hungered for my whole life long without knowing it. And I wanted more.

Bunny pranced toward the stairs, leading the twins with a squeal and a flourish of hands, her bottom jiggling enticingly with every bounce. Miss Evangeline followed with the grace of a wicked ballet mistress, trailing satin ribbons that she’d tied around the throats of her puppygirls. They all ascended upstairs as a giggling, giddy procession of leash-tugs and squealed filth.

Miss Ashcroft and I were left in the soft hush of the now quiet kitchen.

She took a long sip of her wine, then murmured, “Wait for the music…”

From upstairs came a rapid-fire percussion of slaps, followed by high-pitched yips. There was a stifled “Mommy, please!” and something that sounded like “That’s my tushy, sis… ooohh, that’s my TUSHY!” all punctuated by giggles and moans.

Miss Ashcroft smiled almost dreamily as she trailed a manicured hand across her breasts, full and heavy in the evening quiet. She didn’t tweak a nipple for my benefit; there was just the hint of pressure, like a woman remembering her favorite book while feeling the texture of the cover.

“This night,” she said softly, “is perfect. Utterly and completely perfect.”

She turned to me with a precise, carnivorous grace that made me feel like I was already naked even though I wasn’t, not quite. I still wore one of Bunny’s slutty mini-skirts and the too-tight cotton tee. But I ached to be naked, to bare my body, my soul to Miss Ashcroft, the stern, loving mommy I’d always longed for, but never had.

Did she want me to undress for her? I was afraid she might not. .

“Lily.”

“Yes, Miss Ashcroft?”

“Follow me to the lounge.”

I did. Of course I did. Because the air smelled like roses and sex, and there was the sound of little girls as background music. My pussy was tingly, alive with erotic possibilities. God help me, I was already forgetting what it might feel like to not be part of this lust-fueled family.

♡ ⚢ ♡ ⚢ ♡

The fire crackled in secret tongues, the shadows dancing along the walls of the lounge. Miss Ashcroft, still gloriously nude, seated herself in a comfy leather armchair, one leg crossed over the other, her posture elegant and feline, her body regal, elegant and entirely, unashamedly perfect.

I sat opposite her, still dressed, still unsure of myself. My nervous hands were pinned between my knees to keep them still. The heat from the fire soaked into my legs. The heat from her soaked into everything else.

She didn’t look at me, just sipped her wine and let the room breathe around us.

And I… I wanted. My body hummed with the all-consuming need I felt. But I didn’t know how to want properly. I longed to reach out, to curl up at her feet, to beg her please, please, without knowing what for…but the words were too shy to let themselves be heard, like kittens afraid to meow.

She glanced over at me then, just the flick of her eyes. “You’re doing so well, Lily.”

I blushed so violently I thought I might burst. “I’m just… sitting here.”

Miss Ashcroft smiled, and it was the kind of smile that could unmake kingdoms. “Exactly. You’re here.” A pause. Another sip. Then she murmured, “Would you like to be useful, Lily?”

My heart pounded. Here it comes.

I nodded.

She still didn’t move. “Then wait. If you want to belong here, you must learn to savor the suspense. Just a little while longer. You’re curious, maybe even afraid. You’re probably wondering why so few mothers make love to their daughters like we do. You’ve noticed how we play with roles that feel too intimate for most. Perhaps you long to ask why we do these things. You want to know why we’ve built this house around our dangerous fantasies, fantasies we make real… fantasies that, if they became known to the wrong people, could land the women in prison – and our girls into foster homes.”

She paused, not for effect, but for emphasis.

“Mind, you, this is not some sex cult… even though sex is part and parcel of it. We’re taking back what once was ours, the power that men would move heaven and earth to deny us. It’s a reclamation of something the world forgot. We live in a male-dominated culture, one that takes softness and twists it, that mocks unabashed need, that punishes yearning. But here on the Lane we are allowed to cherish it. We honor it.”

She looked directly at me then, and I felt my whole self go still under the weight of that gaze.

“When my daughter kisses me like a lover, it isn’t because she’s confused. It’s because she’s found safety. She’s tired of pretending not to want guidance, warmth, approval. She’s choosing to be seen—fully, and without shame. It’s not about genetic biology. It’s about intention. I’m her mother, I give structure, discipline and care. She gives me trust and vulnerability. That… that is love in its perfect form. We don’t blur lines here on the Lane, we draw new ones, with consent and creativity in an eternal marriage to each other. In doing so, we become something freer. Something truer.”

The fire snapped softly as if it, too, was holding its breath.

“I don’t know who I am,” I whispered.

Miss Ashcroft didn’t say anything. She simply tilted her head with that impossibly feline grace, showing not a trace of surprise.

That was when something cracked open inside me, and the words spilled out.

“I’m not—I don’t even know how,” I stammered. “I keep—I always try to be what other people want, right? I dress right, talk right, laugh at the right jokes, and I’m always watching myself like I’m some horrible show I can’t turn off, and I smile when I’m screaming inside, and I try to act like I’ve got it together… but I don’t, Miss Ashcroft. I don’t. I never have.”

My thoughts were pouring forth in a torrent, things I’d never said to anyone, and I couldn’t stop them.

“I used to imagine dying, then maybe people would finally say something nice about me. I’ve never known what it’s like to feel genuine confidence. I hate my body, but I hate even more how much I want people to want it. And I can’t make myself s-stop feeling that way. I need to be wanted. And touched. And told what to do b-by someone who loves me. And I hate that even more, ‘cause what if that makes me weak? Or pathetic? Or-or…or wrong?”

By now I was crying, full-on, sniffling and sobbing..

“And worst of all? I hate myself for pretending I’m not any of that!”

Miss Ashcroft rose with the slow grace of a woman who had never hurried in her life, her wineglass abandoned on the side table, eyes fixed only on me. She crossed the space between us. When she reached me, she didn’t speak—just extended one elegant hand to touch my chin, guiding me to my feet  like I was too fragile to grasp.

Together, we both sank down to the plush rug before the fireplace, its texture thick and soft under my knees. The glow of the flames kissed her skin in golden hues. I was still crying uncontrollably, but Miss Ashcroft pulled me close, curling me into her lap like I was something wounded that had come home to heal. My head rested against her thigh, breath shaky, fingers tangling into the weave of the rug.

“Shhh, pretty girl… shhhh…” Her hand slid to the small of my back.

She guided me across her knees, gently positioning me until my bare ass was angled upward, exposed to the firelight. My heart was racing like a hummingbird’s wings.

“Now, Lily,” she murmured, her palm warming my naked skin, “it’s time for you to begin again.”

And then the first sharp, precise smack landed on my bottom. It wasn’t cruel, it wasn’t even hard. It felt almost ceremonial.

I gasped. I knew what she was doing, without any reason to know. I began to cry harder.

“You are precious,” she said, her voice almost a song. “You have worth. Enormous worth.”

Then came the next spank, firm and measured, on the verge of cruelty but not quite.

“This one is for the lies,” she said. Another.

“This one is for the shame.” And another.

Now came a pause to let me breathe. Her hand trailed across my buttocks, those perfectly manicured nails gliding over the heated skin. Then Miss Ashcroft cupped my bottom, soothing away the heat she’d just raised. Her fingers spread my anal cleft just enough for her to caress my tingling star.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she cooed. “Such a darling little bottom you have. So sensitive. So perfect. Made to be pleasured by so many tongues and fingers, so many sisters and aunties, teachers and babysitters, and dozens of new lovers…”

Smack.

“This one,” she said, “is so you never forget you’re mine.”

Suddenly the fingertip of her other hand pressed deep into my anus. It didn’t hurt as much as one might think, but being so abruptly penetrated startled me so much that I burst into waves of fresh tears. And that brought forth a new volley of spanks from Miss Ashcroft.

“Good girl,” she whispered between each strike. “Let it go. Every lie they made you believe, every insult, each little hurt. Cry, my love. Cry for the little girl who was never held.”

I did. The tears came in waves. Each sting of her hand purged shame from me like the soul-killing poison it was, in a cleansing rain of blows that washed me clean.

When it was done, Miss Ashcroft turned me over in her arms like a doll and cradled me against her bare breast. I clung to her, still trembling. I could easily have taken her nipple between my lips, but chose to wait, let this magnificent woman give me the right to love her.

“There you are,” Miss Ashcroft said softly, brushing damp hair from my face. “You’re not lost, dear girl, just waiting for someone to love you properly.” She kissed the tears from my cheeks one by one. “Shhh. You don’t need to be afraid anymore. You’re home now.”

I broke. Fully. Sobbing into the comfort of her breasts. Then my heart soared as she offered a nipple to me. I immediately began licking, then suckling the swollen tip with my eyes closed.

This was a bonding experience like no other. Miss Ashcroft was offering me a new life, a new family, one where I mattered. I’d been on the verge of drowning in my own grief, and she was my salvation.

Miss Ashcroft gathered me to her chest, cooing, humming the same soft lullaby from the drive over. “There, now,” she whispered. “You’ve done so well, my Lily, my love.”

“I love you so much, Mommy…” I called her that without hesitation. It’s what she was. My mommy. I allowed my lips to silently form the words, letting them fill my head, my heart, my soul.

“I love you,” she murmured in reply, then kissed my ear.

♡ ⚢ ♡ ⚢ ♡

We weren’t finished, of course. Far from it.

Miss Ashcroft’s bedroom looked like it had been decorated by a Victorian ghost with a taste for kink and cashmere.

“Come along, little one,” she said, patting the duvet. “This bed doesn’t bite.”

I stood at the edge of the bed like a stray animal who’d wandered into a palace by accident. I was shaking inside, though I did my best to seem calm. My thoughts were a jumble. I’d cried so hard, felt so much, I didn’t even know if I was still me anymore.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, eyes fixed on the floor. “I just… I don’t think I’ll be good at it. At—at making you feel good. I’ve never even kissed a girl, not before tonight. I just…really, really don’t want to let you down…”

There was a soft rustle of sheets and then her hands were on my face, warm and firm and smelling like roses and pussy and love. Miss Ashcroft—Mommy, I reminded myself—tilted my head up until I had no choice but to meet her gaze.

“Oh, my darling little girl,” she said, kissing me deeply. She’d already forgiven me for things I hadn’t even done. “You really thought you had to earn me, didn’t you?”

I nodded, and something inside me winced.

“You don’t have to be good at anything tonight,” she said. “You don’t have to prove you’re worth loving. You already are.”

She took my hand, led me to the bed, and pulled me gently down onto the mattress with her. The blankets were so warm. Her arms were warmer.

“All I want right now is for you to be held, sweetheart. You’ve done enough. Just be a little girl now,” she whispered, lips against my ear. “Let Mommy take care of everything.”

I sank into the bed, going completely limp, my chest rising and falling like waves after a storm. I felt vulnerable in a way I hadn’t known was allowed. And yet, in her presence, I didn’t feel judged at all, but like something precious Mommy intended to care for forever.

She crawled onto the bed beside me, her hand warm and tender against my nipples, my tummy. Her mouth was soft and warm as it traveled along my navel, as if sealing me shut where I’d once been broken.

I gasped when her lips ventured between my legs. Oh, fuck… I couldn’t even think. Her tongue moved like it knew me better than I knew myself, only adoring, as if licking a young girl’s cunny was the entire point of being alive. My body trembled as I whimpered up at the ceiling, helpless under her gentleness.

She didn’t stop. She licked lower, then higher, her lips and tongue perfectly attending all of my pretty little princess parts. I felt kissed in places no one had ever paid attention to, kissed into stillness, into peace.

“Such a good girl,” she murmured between kisses. “Such a delight… I love you, child, I love you so very much…”

I cried once more, but this time the tears weren’t from sadness. In Mommy’s care, I was finally safe to fall apart, utterly and completely.

“That’s it,” she whispered. “Good girl. That’s Mommy’s good girl. Shh, I’ve got you,” she murmured. “You really needed this, didn’t you? To be loved like a daughter and used like a lesbian slut… licked by puppygirls… teased by her wicked big sister… made to come by your new mother.”

I gave a brief nod, not trusting my voice. She kept touching, kept coaxing, her fingers so skillful, her voice the anchor I clung to in the midst of rapture.

“You don’t have to hide anymore,” she said softly. “You don’t have to earn anything here. You can do what you want, Lily. And that’s enough. So let go for me, daughter mine,” she whispered, kissing me deeply, the kiss of a wedding night on a marital bed. “Come for Mommy, little one. Let me taste the love spilling from you…”

My whole body shook, wrung out and teetering on the precipice…and I gave in to my mother’s desire. I broke, I spilled, my orgasm crashing through me like a flash flood, raging and relentless, a wet, gushing release that anointed her lips, her neck, her breasts with my essence; a baptism both depraved and holy.

She moaned like it was the sweetest offering I could have given her, still pleasuring me with her flicking, darting tongue until I collapsed forward – trembling, gasping and wrung out like a washcloth. There was no need to speak… my whole body had confessed. She’d absolved me.

I melted against my mother, and we lay twined together in the damp sheets, my every nerve quieted, every jagged edge smoothed away by what she’d done to me. Miss Ashcroft cradled me in her arms and nuzzled my face, drawing slow, lazy circles between my shoulder blades with a finger. Resting my cheek on her breast, Mommy’s heartbeat was a steady rhythm beneath my ear, lulling me. I curled into it, boneless, weightless, utterly undone.

She didn’t speak for a while. Just breathed with me. Just held me.

I felt her fingers comb through my hair. Like she’d done that to me a hundred times and would do it a thousand more. I made a sound—relief, maybe. Security, perhaps. Let’s call it the strange, aching joy of being safe.

“You’re all right now, my love,” she whispered. “And you’re mine.”

Tilting my head back, I peered into her eyes. “Am I really your own little girl, Mommy…?”

“Yes, Lily.” She trailed a fingertip against my rosebud one last time. “Yes, you are.”

I nodded, floating in a happy delirium, tears cooling on my cheeks. I didn’t want to move. I just wanted to stay there forever, wrapped in warmth, in the arms, in the care of someone who saw me, knew me for what I was and saw value there.

My birth parents already seemed like a distant memory, part of that old life I no longer wanted or needed. I could barely even picture my former mother’s face any more. Miss Ashcroft had assumed her place, and I’d never been happier.

Mommy kissed me again, and I was quick to respond. Her lips to mine, our tongues entwined.

Then, with a voice so low I felt it in my chest ache, she murmured, “Welcome home, sweetie.”

I was the newest little girl on Lollipop Lane. And I was gonna love it here.

The End

 

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