The Joy of Looking, Chapter 60

  • Posted on May 12, 2015 at 10:40 am

By Naughty Mommy

Now there were only five days left before the start of our trip, until that magical weekend when my mother promised she and I could do everything we wanted to do with each other. Oh my god, only five more days!!

I don’t know how I ever slept that week, how I got any schoolwork done or heard a single word that was said by my teachers. My mind was entirely consumed with anticipation and excitement and fantasy visions of being in bed with my mom making love to her. Very soon it wouldn’t be just a fantasy, not any longer, it would finally actually be real.

I was already in the habit of masturbating at least once a day and quite often more, but that week I must have set some kind of record. Every morning when I woke up, again as soon as I got home from school, and then again in bed before eventually falling to sleep at night, I gave myself countless orgasms as I visualized all the things my mommy and I would do together.

There was one other thing I did too, in addition to constantly rubbing my little pussy.

On Wednesday after school, I took the bus to the mall instead of going home. I went to Victoria’s Secret and found Melissa.

“Hi!” She hurried over, greeting me with a big smile and a hug. I hugged her in return, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

Luckily they weren’t very busy that day, so she’d be able to spend as much time with me as we wanted. I told her I needed her help in choosing a few things to wear, some very special things.

“What kind of things do you mean, honey?” she asked.

“Well, um…”

I glanced around the store, making sure no other shoppers were close enough to hear what I said next. “See, this weekend my mother and me are going away on a trip together. It’s like, I mean, a special trip. She says it’s supposed to be, um, sort of like a romantic weekend for the just the two of us, for her and me.”

“Oh my god, really?” she gushed. “How exciting!”

“Yeah, and so, you know, I want to get some things I can wear that will be, I mean, that are kind of romantic or something. I don’t really know what, though, so I need you to help me.”

Melissa took me by the shoulders, looking into my eyes. “Oh, you are so sweet, what a doll you are. Your mom is a very lucky lady.”

I blushed.

“God, this is great. A romantic weekend for just the two of you!” She couldn’t stop smiling. “Okay, so, are you thinking underwear? You know, bras and panties? Or sexy stuff, like garters and stockings? Or maybe a hot little dress or something?”

“Yeah, I mean, everything I guess. All of that. You know my mom and what she likes, kind of, and you know me, so I was hoping you could have some good suggestions.”

“Sure, of course.” She stepped back for a moment, appraising me.

I felt a little awkward, a skinny 12-year-old kid standing in a store with all that exotic grownup lady stuff around me. I hoped I wouldn’t seem too foolish to Melissa. But apparently I didn’t need to worry.

“Julie, you are so beautiful,” she sighed. “Such a lovely young girl. Like I said, your mom is a very lucky woman.”

I blushed again.

“All right, let’s see, let’s start over here.” She took my hand, leading me to a counter where some fancy bras and things were displayed under glass.

She pointed out a couple of sets that were totally gorgeous and we talked about them. I thought they might be expensive, but I didn’t really mind because I had all that cash with me I’d earned while babysitting. It was over $500, a fortune!

We discussed colors, what would go best with my skin and stuff, and what I would wear over the underthings. Melissa got some boxes from a shelf behind the counter, and then we went to another section where they had dresses.

After considering several options, we selected three for me to try on. While I waited, she took the things to a dressing room, leaving them there for me, and then she returned. “Now let’s look at lingerie,” she smiled.

There were so many different ways I could go, so many options — red and racy, black and alluring, pink and girly, white and virginal — it was hard to decide!

Finally we chose a few we agreed would be really nice, and then we went to the dressing room for my fittings. As I started removing the jeans and shirt and bra I was wearing, Melissa stood back and looked at me, admiring my young body.

“Your mom is so lucky,” she repeated, slowly shaking her head.

“Thanks,” I grinned, trying not to blush again.

“But, um, when you said this was going to be a romantic weekend for just the two of you, do you mean, um, does that mean, uh…” she trailed off.

I nodded. “Uh-huh, that’s what it means. Everything.”

“God,” Melissa whispered, her hand brushing her nipple through her thin top.

We had a lot of fun that day, talking about all the different combinations I could wear, seeing how they would look, giggling and touching and kissing each other in the dressing room at Victoria’s Secret.

I was getting very, very wet. Knowing that, I made sure to leave my regular undies on while trying on the other little panties we’d brought in with us. That way the new ones wouldn’t get stained by my love juices. On the other hand, it was kind of exciting to imagine I might leave a mark on them and then another girl or woman would buy them, and when she wore them she would have my juices next to her pussy. Ooh, I can be so naughty sometimes!

Finally we completed all our choices. I was really happy with what we’d settled on. I got dressed again, Melissa and I kissed some more, and then we went out and I paid for everything. It didn’t take all my money, only a little more than half, but I didn’t mind spending it one bit. This was to be the most important and wonderful weekend of my life.

* * *

Our plane landed at the big airport in Boston, and there we got a rental car. I’d never been to that part of the country before, and it was interesting. Of course, I didn’t see much at first except the inside of the airport and the freeway and stuff. But as we drove north, gradually leaving the cities and suburbs behind us, the landscape become picturesque, like a painting, with rolling green hills, small farms, a blue sky accented with puffy white clouds.

Perhaps it wasn’t quite as gorgeous as it appears in my memory, it could be that my heightened state of romantic bliss that afternoon made everything seem even more charming than it actually was, but it doesn’t matter. That was how I felt then, it was how it looked to me, and it is how I choose to remember it.

My mom had taken the day off from work and she’d sent a note to my school earlier that week excusing me from attendance. So, after we said goodbye to my sisters, watching them troop off to school together, and after Grandpa Ray and Grandma June arrived a little later that Friday morning, my mother and I put our things in the car and headed for the airport. The flight was fairly short, and by mid-afternoon, we were driving through New Hampshire on our way to Vermont.

Before long, we began seeing patches of snow on the ground. Higher up, the mountains became white. In the area where we lived, it hardly ever snowed, so it was really neat to see.

The afternoon grew deeper, the sun sliding lower in the western sky. “How soon are we going to get there, Mommy?” I asked.

“Pretty soon. Only another half hour or so. Are you getting tired of all this driving?”

“No, I like it. It’s really pretty up here.”

“Yes, it is.”

“But, um, after we get there, are we going out to dinner or something? Because I have, I mean, before we do I want to change into something else I brought. Something, like, kind of special for it.”

She glanced at me, smiling and touching my hand. “Aren’t you sweet. Yes, precious, we can both change before we eat.”

My mom was wearing tight jeans tucked into boots, along with a loose green v-neck sweater over a powder blue blouse. I was in a dress, the red one I liked with the buttons up the front, but I had something else in mind for our dinner date, of course.

“We’re having dinner tonight at the inn,” she continued. “I talked with them about it, about making certain, uh, arrangements.”

There was that word again. I loved it when my mother talked about making ‘arrangements’ because it usually meant something racy and exciting. But I wondered what sort of things she could be planning that would involve our dinner that night. I smiled to myself as I looked out the window enjoying the beautiful scenery. I would just have to wait and see.

A short time later, we pulled up in front of a big three-story house set amid some trees on the side of a forested hill. There were no other houses nearby. On the ground were a few patches of icy snow. A sign in front of the house read ‘Sapphic Retreat’.

“What does that mean?” I asked. “Sapphic Retreat.”

My mother chuckled. “Do you know who Sappho was?”

“No.”

“She was a Greek poet who lived on the island of Lesbos, way back, hundreds of years BC, I think. She wrote poems about her love for women, their beauty, and the special pleasures they could have together.”

“Wow. So this place is…”

She chuckled again, patting my knee. “Come on, let’s go inside.”

We were welcomed by Delia and Cassia. They were sisters, I soon learned, and they ran the inn together. Both were in their late twenties, I guessed, tall and rangy brunettes with strong features. They had high cheekbones, wide mouths, dark eyes, and glowing olive skin. The women wore very little makeup, but they didn’t really need much because their natural beauty was so striking.

We set down our bags and they showed us around. We visited a library with shelves full of books, including, I saw, at least one volume of poetry by Sappho. Glancing around the room, I noticed that the pictures on the walls and a few small sculptures all followed the same theme, lovely half-naked girls and women, often in the company of others like them. I decided I was really going to like this place.

There was a spacious community living room, with several comfortable chairs and two long sofas, along with a big-screen TV. In a tall cabinet, we were shown a collection of DVDs we could watch at our leisure. I saw some that were clearly lesbian porn. My pussy was tingling by now.

They showed us the dining room, where our dinner was to be served, and a big homey kitchen with a table on the side where we would have breakfast the next morning.

After the tour, Cassia led us up to our room on the second floor. It was a suite, actually, comprised of a small parlor or sitting room, a large bedroom with a beautiful canopy bed, and an equally large bathroom with a deep triangular tub in one corner and a double shower in another corner. Delia came into the suite a minute later, carrying a tray with drinks for us and a small selection of chocolates.

“You can relax now,” Cassia told us, “and please make yourselves at home. Anything you want or need, just ask for it. We’re planning dinner for 7:00, as we discussed. Is that still all right?”

“Yes, that will be fine,” my mother nodded. “Thank you so much, everything is just perfect.”

It was about 5:30 then. The women left us alone, and Mommy and I sat down to enjoy our refreshments. I wasn’t sure what was in the glasses. The drinks were layered liquids, red, yellow, and green. I picked mine up, sniffed it, and then tasted it. It was kind of strong but delicious, different from anything I’d had before.

“What is this?” I asked.

My mom smiled. “It’s one of their specialties here. The drink is called Traffic Light because of the colors. It’s made with absinthe, which is alcoholic. I asked them not to make yours too strong, though.”

“Wow. I like it. It’s pretty.” I held my glass up to the light, admiring the layered effect.

We chatted for a while, sipping our drinks and eating the chocolates. Then we took a short walk outside, around the grounds, holding hands. It was too early in the year for flowers, but the yard was nicely tended. There were a lot of bare-limbed trees in a row. Mommy told me they were fruit trees that bore plums, apples, and cherries.

Around 6:30, as it was starting to get dark and turning chilly, we came inside to get ready for dinner.

In our room, I said to my mom, “Um, before I change into my, I mean, what I’m going to wear” — I didn’t want to tell her what I’d chosen for the occasion — “could you, like, help me put on a little eye makeup and stuff? So I can look pretty for you?”

She took my face in her hands, smiling and kissing my lips. “Darling, you always look pretty to me. But yes, of course, I’d be happy to help you with some makeup. Let’s go in the bathroom.”

After she finished and I’d admired my transformed face in the mirror, thanking her profusely, I said, “So, um, is it okay if I get dressed in here? By myself?”

“You mean you don’t want me to see you until you’re ready?”

“Yeah,” I nodded, grinning shyly.

“Ooh, you are so cute!” She kissed me again, being careful not to smear my makeup, and then left the bathroom. After I brought in my suitcase and closed the door behind me, I proceeded to change.

I took off my red dress and hung it on a hook on the back of the door. I’d left my flat black shoes in the other room, and I wasn’t wearing any socks or hose, so all I had on was my regular bra and panties. I slipped out of them and looked at myself in the full-length mirror.

That morning, in the shower, I’d shaved my pussy for the first time, removing the sparse amount of light brown pubic hair that was growing there. At the mall, on Wednesday, I’d asked Melissa if she could come with me to the drug store across the corridor and help me get the stuff I needed. She was happy to do that, and she gave me a few pointers on how to do the job right. I was very pleased with the results. My pussy was completely smooth again, like when I was little.

Next I got out the delicate panties and bra I’d chosen. They were white, matching, of course, and mostly sheer. The bra was strapless, with underwire, so it lifted up my breasts a bit, although I still didn’t have much to lift. Then I put on the dress. It was white and gold lamé, strapless with a fitted bodice. It had a straight skirt that came to several inches above my knees, and a little satin bow at the top between my breasts. I loved it.

Leaving my legs bare, I finished the outfit with the Gucci shoes my mother had given me, and then posed in front of the mirror. Wow, I thought to myself, I guess maybe I really am kind of pretty, like everyone keeps telling me. Anyway, if I saw this girl somewhere, I would definitely want to have sex with her. That made me smile. I stepped close to the mirror, bringing my lips to meet the lips of my reflected image, and kissed myself. That felt sort of perverted, but totally hot.

Deciding to leave the imprint of my pink lip rouge on the mirror, I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and went out to show myself to my mom.

She was sitting in a chair, waiting for me. When she saw me she stood up, clapping her hands to her face, exclaiming, “Oh my! Oh my! Oh Julie!”

She rushed over and hugged me tightly. She was actually sobbing, she was so happy. Hugging her, I said, “Mommy, stop, you’ll make me cry. You’ll ruin my makeup!”

“I know, dear, I’m sorry.” She pulled away, carefully wiping her tears, trying not to smear her mascara. “It’s just, I’m just…”

My mother held me at arm’s length, taking me in again. “I’m just…”

It was rare for her to be at a loss for words. “I, I’ve never seen anything in my life so beautiful.”

“Oh, Mom.”

“No, I mean it. You are magnificent. Like an angel.” She wiped her eyes again.

“You look really nice too,” I told her.

She was in a very short and flouncy mini-skirt, bright red, along with extremely high heels. Her long smooth legs were oiled and gleaming. The sleeveless white satin blouse she wore was open more than halfway down, letting me see a tantalizing amount of her braless breasts. Her hair was pulled back, a few blonde strands left free to hang teasingly around her gorgeous face.

As I recovered from her reaction to my appearance and took the time to appreciate hers, I felt elated. It was nearly impossible to believe that this incredibly beautiful woman, who could have had almost anyone in the world, male or female, was in love with me, that she and I would soon be in bed together, doing anything and everything we wanted with each other. She was and is the most attractive woman I have ever seen, and I am still deeply in love with her, my wonderful, desirable, super sexy mom.

After a quick repair of our makeup, we left the room to go downstairs for dinner, arm in arm.

Cassia greeted us at the bottom of the stairs and led us into the candlelit dining room while complimenting us on our outfits. Mommy was seated at the head of the table and I sat on the side, close to her. We were the only people at dinner that evening, the sole guests of the inn that weekend.

Delia came in from the kitchen, welcoming us, exclaiming how lovely we both were. The sisters were in matching skirts and blouses now, kind of like a uniform. The dark skirts were short and showed off their superb long legs. They’d put on a little more makeup too, but still not much, I didn’t think. Just a little blush and lipstick, and maybe some mascara.

After they left us, I took my mother’s hand, telling her again how pretty she looked. She smiled coyly, seeming to indicate something — and then it hit me — I suddenly realized why the outfit she was wearing seemed so familiar. This was exactly what she’d had on that night almost two years earlier when I was still just 10 and I came out of my room to see her having lesbian sex with Karen. She remembered!

“Mommy, that’s…” I started to get choked up “…that’s what…” I couldn’t say anything more but just pointed at her clothing.

She nodded, “Mm-hm, that’s right, my love, the night everything began for me and you.” Her eyes were filling with tears too.

I cleared my throat, taking a deep breath, lowering my head and putting my hands in my lap, trying to regain my composure. I really didn’t want to start crying and mess up my face. After a minute or so, I looked up again, smiling at her. I managed to say, “That’s, that’s so sweet, Mom.”

We gazed at each other, lost in a world of love and affection and desire for one another.

Our reverie was broken in the most exciting way you could possibly imagine. Through the door from the kitchen came a young lady carrying a tray holding wine glasses filled with a yellowish liquid. Each glass also contained a small slice of orange. She set them down in front of us.

“Good evening. These are your aperitifs.”

What seized my attention, however, making my jaw drop, was not the drinks — it was the young lady who served them. She was very young, only about my age, and she was topless! Not only topless, but all she was wearing was a tiny g-string and a pair of high-heeled slippers. I couldn’t believe it!!

“Thank you, my dear,” said my mom as she looked the girl up and down. “Mm, such an adorable little thing. Can you tell us your name?”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am. My name is Brandi.”

I continued staring at her, my mouth literally hanging open. Brandi was a redhead, about 12 years old, tall for her age with the most perfect legs. She had small breasts set high on her chest with rosy nipples. I thought I could see a few little auburn curls peeking around the edges of her scanty g-string.

She went back to the kitchen, my eyes fastened on her bare bottom as she strode away. Brandi was much better at walking in high heels than I was. It was a delight to watch.

“Mommy, she —”

Just as I began to say something, the door swung open again and another young lady in high-heeled slippers came in. This girl was a blonde, equally stunning, equally topless, and apparently even younger than Brandi, maybe only 10. She had no real breast development at all, just the beginnings of puffiness in her nipples. I studied the girl’s crotch unabashedly as she stood next to us. Her little white g-string, even scantier than Brandi’s, revealed an expanse of smooth pink skin with no sign of pubic hair anywhere.

She set two bowls of soup at our places, then stood back and smiled, her hands behind her back. “Lobster bisque. I hope you will enjoy it.”

My mom turned to the girl, admiring her for a moment. She said, “It smells delicious. And what is your name, pretty one?”

“I’m Cindy.”

“You are very lovely. Just beautiful.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Cindy nodded. Then she headed back to the kitchen, walking not quite as gracefully as Brandi had in the heels. I kept my eyes on her the whole way.

When the door closed, I whispered, “Mommy, they, I mean — is this legal?”

“Yes,” she chuckled. “I’m not actually certain what the laws are. But if there are any, they’re not very strictly enforced. Here in Vermont people generally let other people do what they want. They’re very accepting of, uh, a variety of alternative lifestyles.”

“Wow…”

She raised her glass, appreciating the golden glow of the liquid in the candlelight, and then held it toward me. “Let’s drink to our love, my beautiful angel.”

The amorous look in her eyes nearly took my breath away. With trembling fingers I raised my own drink, trying not to spill any. After clinking our glasses, we each took a sip.

I coughed a little. “Oh — um, this is kind of strong.”

My mom smiled at me. “It’s Lillet, a French aperitif. You don’t have to drink too much if you don’t like it.”

“No, I do. It’s just…” I took another small sip. “It’s good. I just have to get used to it.”

She took my hand, squeezing it. “Let’s try the bisque, okay?”

And so we did. It was excellent.

We enjoyed a delicious dinner, roast pork and creamy mashed potatoes and a green salad and some really good crusty bread, along with apple pie a la mode for dessert. My mom had a few glasses of wine and I had some too, but mostly I drank water. I made sure to write notes about the food in my diary the next day so I would remember everything, but as you can imagine, my attention was often diverted by those sexy young girls who were serving us. What a treat that was!

We sat for a while after we finished, watching the candles burn low, holding hands, smiling at each other. When my mother pushed back her chair, I thought maybe that meant it was time to go up to our room, but then she said, “Come here a minute, lover, and sit on my lap.”

I happily settled myself on her, wrapping my arms around her neck, smelling her perfume, gazing down at her cleavage, looking at her moist lips. I brought my mouth close to hers, and we kissed.

For the next, I don’t know for how long — ten minutes? ten hours? — we softly kissed. Just so softly, tenderly, romantically, exquisitely. My lips on her lips, our tongues lightly teasing, hands and fingers delicately caressing smooth warm skin. We didn’t get overtly sexual then, grabbing each other’s breasts or anything like that, we just kissed. It was the hottest, sexiest, most arousing session of kissing the entire universe has ever known. That’s how it felt to me, anyway.

Finally she whispered, as her lips nibbled at my neck, “Would you like to go upstairs now, darling?”

My clit was tingling, my pussy dripping wet, my nipples throbbing in their little white bra.

“Uh-huh,” I nodded.

I nuzzled beneath her ear, inhaling her sweet perfume. And then instead of kissing, I bit her skin, taking the tender flesh of my mother’s neck between my teeth and biting down, pretty hard. I don’t know why I did that, I just did.

“God, yes!” she gasped.

As I drew away, I smiled at her. She sighed and kissed me once again, but this time more deeply, pulling me against her, pressing her tongue into my mouth.

By the time we were done with that kiss, we were both breathing hard, quivering with excitement. We stood up, looking into each other’s eyes, and headed for our room.

Continue on to Chapter 61

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