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So you want to write stories…

  • Posted on August 30, 2016 at 2:23 pm

By Cheryl Taggert

Hello again, dear readers. Yes, it’s that young (isn’t almost 34 still young?) woman who obsesses about writing again. Recently, I finished writing chapter 50 of I Was the Daughter of a Porn Star, and I commented on the site that I had completed that much of the book, despite the fact that the work has been posted only through chapter 43, as of this writing. (Chapter 44 posted the day after I wrote the first draft of this blog entry, which I am now working on to improve.)

Then something occurred to me. Most readers think once a first draft is done, that’s all there is to it. The fact is, the work has just begun. There is so much more that will take place with that chapter before you, the reader, see it. Some of our readers will submit a story to us, and we will make suggestions. Usually, these suggestions are seen for what they are — our attempt to make what is a good story better. Other times the author will not be willing to tackle a re-write for a variety of reasons, and that is fine as well. Life sometimes gets in the way of writing for many people, especially in this genre if the author’s significant other is, shall we say, unaware of the author’s fantasy life as it regards our type of erotica. However, rarely do we post a story if the author is not willing to fix what we see as some problems with the work. In fact, I don’t recall that we ever have. The truth is we all experience those problems when writing, and if we want it to be good, we take the time to do the re-writes.

I teach English in the U.S. to seventh graders, or young students who are probably reaching their 12th or 13th birthdays at some point during their school year with me. One thing that is certain is that as writing students (part of my curriculum involves writing), the hardest lesson my students learn is that a first draft is good for two things, and two things only: several re-writes or the trash bin. I say this because a first draft that does not see at least some editing is worthy of the trash bin. On the other hand, a first draft that undergoes several close readings with corrections, deletions, and additions to the text will usually garner a good grade for my students, or in my case, a good chapter or story, or at least one that is better than it was after the initial draft was written.

I am fortunate enough to have two very good authors who function as my “readers” to help me improve my writing for this site. They are, in essence, my editors, just as I am one of their editors. Before it is posted, they read what I’ve written, and I read what they’ve written, and we all make suggestions to improve the work. Sometimes I will reject a suggestion and provide a reason why I am rejecting it, as do my partners. The explanation is nearly always accepted and we move on.

Here are some examples of actual notes I have received from Naughty Mommy and JetBoy. They would include, before the comment, a copied and pasted sentence or three that is the subject of their note to me, which I am leaving out since I don’t want you to see what is sometimes some awful writing on my part:

  1. The first part of the second sentence is clunky. I suggest something like… (A suggestion of a re-write is noted here, and if I agree with the note, I will either use the suggestion or something else will occur to me that I think is even better than the suggestion.)
  2. You have “as” three times in the last sentence.
  3. This sentence feels somewhat clumsy… but a simple rearrangement of the words will make it right.
  4. Suggest streamlining this by cutting “the man who is,” to eliminate repetition.
  5. Two very similar references to getting into trouble… I’d change one of ‘em.

These are only five notes from only ONE of my partners/editors, and they all concern only one chapter. There were a total of ten notes on this chapter from this person (who shall remain unnamed, even though it is one of two people).

I ended up rejecting the last note in the list above because of what, exactly, I wanted to emphasize in the sentence/paragraph. We are always free to disagree with a note as long as we have a good reason for it. I explained myself and received an email agreeing with my decision.

Here are a few more, just to show you we sometimes write things that are less than stellar.

  1. This was somewhat difficult to parse. My suggestion is to revise it as… (Again, a suggestion was offered here.)
  2. There’s a word or two missing here, I think, after ‘how’. Also, you have four sentences in a row in that paragraph starting with ‘She’.
  3. I was mystified at first by this sentence, unable to figure out who the ‘mother’ was. It took a minute for me to recall the characters and relationships. My suggestion is to either offer a little more help to the reader there, or simply remove the second half of the sentence altogether. The latter might be best. Stick with the story instead of the distracting aside.

As you can see, overuse of a word or phrase is often a problem for me. I can’t tell you how many times I get a note similar to the second part of #2 above or #’s 2 and 4 in the first set. This happens because sometimes I am writing quickly and not really thinking about how I’m wording something. I just want to get the basics of the plot down before the situation along with what I’m wanting to do with it disappears from my brain, which can happen when you are thinking quickly about something and your mind is racing along at breakneck speed. (At least I hope my mind is doing that, which is an element of when I am “in the zone” as a writer, where the story seems to be writing itself.) Therefore, such problems are to be expected by any author.

All three of the chapter notes in the second set of suggestions above were dead on, as were the other three notes this person wrote that I didn’t share. When I looked at what I had written, I was in complete agreement with the notes. Of course, we sometimes get right to the point with each other because we have learned to work together and we know that we each respect each other’s writing immensely. The notes above are examples of just how direct we are with each other. I like that about my colleagues. They don’t tiptoe around me, they get to the point. If it’s clunky, clumsy, or difficult to follow, they tell me without mincing words. I appreciate the direct honesty from them. Furthermore, I feel I am a much better writer than I was a year ago because of our association.

Someone (sorry, I forget who) once said that writing is what takes place somewhere between the fourth and fifth re-write. I know exactly what that person meant. So please know that we take time with our stories and chapters to try to make them as perfect as we can. If you wish to submit a story to us, we will take you along on that wonderful ride called true writing.

It’s sometimes a scary ride, like a big roller coaster, but when it’s done you realize what a blast you had.

So keep writing! There are many stories yet to tell.

(A brief “P.S.” here to lend my words credibility: I have returned to this blog entry five times to edit it before it was posted, one of those times because a colleague shared a comment he/she felt needed to be addressed, which led to more tweaks by me.)

Close-Ups: Images of Desire, Chapter 1

  • Posted on August 29, 2016 at 11:17 am

By JetBoy (with babykeiko)

It was warm in the photography studio beneath the dazzling intensity of the lights, but eight-year-old Lynn, Linnie to her mother and nearly everyone who knew her, was used to it.

She’d been an experienced model for years, posing since she was a toddler in ads for children’s clothes, toy catalogs, family restaurants and the like. Linnie was popular with advertising agencies for her cherubic face, long, full-bodied hair, golden-hued skin, and a certain adorable aspect that just couldn’t be faked. The camera loved her, and that love translated into steady work for the little girl.

But this session was special. In the last few months Linnie had become the preferred child model of one of her regular photographers, a woman named Alex. They worked together frequently for commercial shoots. Recently, though, Linnie’s time with Alex had drifted more and more into the realm of private photography, posing for snapshots not meant to be seen by the public. There was a smaller, private corner of Alex’s loft that she and the child would move to after the work was done. There several cameras waited, loaded and ready.

A pattern quickly developed between photographer and model — first, the regular commercial assignments, then their special session, consisting of whatever Alex wanted.

Initially, they began with little Linnie in things like cute tops and shorts, pajamas and bathing suits — but as the child grew increasingly comfortable, the outfits became skimpier, even sexier. The photographs were dreamy and sensuous, never lewd or distasteful.

Though Linnie had been a little uneasy at first with the intimacy of these private sessions, she quickly came to enjoy them much more than her regular modeling jobs. First of all, she loved the attention from Alex — whose full name was Alexandra, though Linnie always addressed her as “Miss Alex.” She was a large but attractive woman, her body soft and full, even Rubenesque. Yet she possessed a strength and assurance that gave her a truer beauty than many of the models Linnie encountered in her day-to-day work.

Linnie loved the way that Alex took charge during a shoot, never treating her like a silly little girl or calling her babyish names, the way so many of the other photographers did. Instead, the woman was very direct with her instructions, just as she would be with a grownup model. Linnie wanted to be as professional as she could, not needing to think about the job, just to be herself in the presence of someone who loved her. Linnie knew, deep down inside, that Alex did love her, too.

Truth be told, she also enjoyed the naughty outfits Alex gave her to wear — but most of all, she loved how it felt to reveal her body to the older woman. Being a child, Linnie’s understanding of sexuality was still dimly defined, but for her there was a very real thrill in modeling without wearing much in the way of clothes, and in being photographed in strange poses unlike any she’d ever attempted for toy advertisements. This work was a little bit scary but incredibly exciting, and it somehow it made her feel more like a grownup than ever before. Posing for Alex in skimpy underthings gave her all sorts of luscious sensations down in her tummy. Even her kitty, that mysterious place between her legs, would become all warm and tingly. To Linnie, it was like kisses and a hot bath and chocolate — all at once!

After the first few of these special, more intimate sessions, the directions from Alex started to become physical, rather than verbal. Instead of giving Linnie instructions, the woman would often simply move the child into the poses she wanted: a leg bent this way, her arm elegantly arched over her head, her bottom teasingly presented to the camera. The girl’s heart would skip a beat as Alex silently turned her onto one side, then touched a thigh with warm, soft hands as she positioned it, her body molded and arranged to fit the photographer’s imagination.

Alex always dressed in a very casual way around Linnie. Then gradually, over the course of the shoot, the woman would somehow end up wearing less and less, though Linnie seldom saw her remove a piece of clothing. It was as if Alex magically became exposed, a little at a time — just as Linnie herself was inching ever nearer to nudity without quite getting there.

The child was fascinated with the older woman’s body, and never missed an opportunity to steal a furtive glance at the scantily-clad photographer as she snapped off one shot after another. Alex was every inch a woman, and Linnie loved to peek at her pendulous breasts, nipples clearly visible beneath the thin t-shirts she wore. Then there was her cute belly button, easily seen if the top Alex wore was short enough, nestled in her soft, slightly rounded tummy.

But best of all, Linnie decided, was Alex’s round, inviting bottom, especially when covered only by plain cotton panties. The child’s heart seemed to beat faster when she saw the shadowy line between Alex’s buttocks, occasionally detectable when she moved or stood in a certain way.

Alex kept her studio very warm — “to keep you comfy, sweetheart,” she always said. So for her to shed items of clothing while she worked made perfect sense, yet it only added to the strange, wonderful feelings that the awed eight-year-old experienced while she posed.

Once a few of these private shoots had taken place, Linnie found herself longing for Alex to take things even further than before; to tell her to take off everything, to completely expose her body. Then perhaps Alex would undress as well, giving the child a good look at what she wanted to see so very much.

To Linnie, the prospect of a glimpse at the older woman’s nudity was like a long denied, eagerly awaited treat. The child loved to look at pictures of naked women, including the ones Alex had taken that adorned this part of the studio, and it always made her light-headed to imagine what it would be like, seeing her beloved Miss Alex without any clothes on at all.

For this shoot, Linnie was on a lovely faux-antique bed with a carved oaken frame, the large mattress covered with a buttery yellow spread. The girl wore the tiniest of bikini undies, with little bow ties on the sides and two pretty butterflies on the front of the panties to conceal the outline of her babyish pudenda. Her ensemble was topped by a filmy, see-through top with spaghetti straps over her slim shoulders.

Usually, Alex’s special sessions with Linnie were conducted in complete privacy. Once the commercial work was done, the studio was cleared of onlookers, and the photographer’s assistant, who handled the lighting and makeup, was sent home for the day. So there was no one to see the titillating outfits the little girl wore, or the provocative positions Alex had her assume.

This day, though… this day was different. There was a silent witness to the sensual display.

Linnie’s mother Yukio watched from a nearby couch placed against the wall, taking in the view while Alex and her daughter worked together. And though the sofa was plush and deep, Yukio was perched on the edge of her seat, eyes wide as she drank in the lovely sight of the woman and the child, both scantily clad.

Linnie was in her barely-there bikini underthings, while Alex was barefoot, wearing only red panties and a white “wife beater” top that poorly concealed her generous breasts. Her discarded bra dangled from an unused tripod, and her nipples were so prominent beneath the flimsy top that their pinkness could be seen.

Yukio found herself enthralled by the beauty of her little girl, how the sensual nature of Linnie’s poses made the nearly nude eight-year-old seem, for the first time, like a sexual creature. But her attention, for the most part, was centered on Alex. Her heart throbbed as she gazed longingly at the full-figured photographer, who was busily snapping one shot after another.

The 35-year-old Japanese woman was smitten by Alex, and had been from the moment she introduced herself to her daughter’s new employer. As they first shook hands, Yukio was trembling inside, her body seething with desire.

Alex reminded Yukio of her very first lover, a babysitter named Sophie who had taken her to bed when Yukio had been an awkward girl of twelve.

Sophie was a gym teacher from a nearby high school, and she had been amazingly warm and friendly with little Yukio from the start. The shy Japanese preteen was a lonely child, too often ignored by her career- driven parents, while Sophie was a lesbian in her late twenties with an unsatisfied appetite for young girls.

Perhaps it was inevitable that they would become intimate. In fact, they first made love when Sophie was staying overnight with Yukio, looking after the young girl while her parents were out of town for a corporate conference.

She’d been nervous and a bit frightened at first, but when she finally understood what Sophie wanted, Yukio eagerly gave herself over to her babysitter — first, nestling in the woman’s arms, sharing soft kisses that gradually grew increasingly passionate, then climbing the stairs hand in hand with Sophie to her bedroom, where she meekly allowed herself to be undressed.

Then Yukio lay naked upon the bed, watching with huge eyes as Sophie removed every bit of her own clothing, then posed proudly for the little girl, hands resting on her shapely hips.

Yukio still recalled how her heart throbbed as she drank in the sight of Sophie’s magnificent body, so unlike the boyish frame she herself had possessed in those days. She had large and slightly drooping breasts like soft, pink pears, made for nuzzling, while her nipples were absolutely huge and pointed downward from her generous chest. She had a lovely, somewhat bulging tummy and a body with enough bulk to make her full-figured rather than fat.

Sophie had stood at the foot of the bed long enough to let her new lover have a good look, then climbed on to lie beside Yukio, taking the slender twelve-year-old into her arms and claiming her mouth in a sweet French kiss.

Their first time together was intense, driven, the lust of the woman harmonizing perfectly with the girl’s excitement. When Sophie lay between Yukio’s quivering thighs and licked wildly at the virginal slit, the dazzled child could only whimper, certain that nothing else in the whole world could feel as good as this…

The second time Sophie made love to her was all gentleness, tender caresses coupled with the feather-light touch of lips on skin, their bare bodies moving languidly together amidst the tangled sheets until Yukio came again. And once she’d regained her breath, the timid young girl became bold, eager to return the pleasures she’d been given.

More than two decades later, watching Alex and her daughter at work, Yukio shivered as she remembered the thick, dark curls adorning Sophie’s pubis, the glistening pink flesh that lurked beneath them, the warm wetness that she found waiting within the juicy slit when she fingered her new lover — and, nicest of all, the tart, rich taste when she licked it for the first time.

Still recalling the loveliness of Sophie’s sex, Yukio found herself staring at the front of Alex’s panties while the woman reloaded her camera, wondering if she shaved or not.

Yukio was only able to repeat her intimacy with Sophie on three other occasions, but these were more than enough to convince her that she was meant to love women — and sure enough, with a single exception, all her lovers and sexual partners had been female.

Her daughter Linnie had been the result of Yukio’s only sexual experience with a man; a Nigerian doctor named Okwe, who she’d met while on vacation in London, not long after completing her Master’s degree. She had found him immensely charming, and was surprised to find herself allowing him to take her to bed. In fact, she slept with him several more times during her week in England. They’d always used protection, but it had clearly failed at least once.

Yukio was stunned to learn of her pregnancy a few weeks after returning to the States. For days she agonized over what to do, then finally resolved to keep and raise the child herself. Seven months later, Lynn was born.

Linnie’s remarkable beauty was a mixture of the best features of both her parents. The elegant lines of her face and the gently curved mouth came from Yukio, while the laughing brown eyes had been one of Okwe’s nicest attributes. The thick, curly hair seemed to owe more to Africa, while the golden tone to her skin was a blend of both races. Whatever her heritage, though, there was no doubt that Linnie was an enchanting creature.

Back in the here and now, a surge of renewed desire flowed through Yukio’s slight form as Alex bent forward for a couple of shots, the material of her panties stretching enough to reveal the crease between her buttocks. Yukio squirmed in her seat as she imagined herself kneeling behind Alex and kissing her bare bottom, then licking a moist path through the woman’s anal cleft.

Setting her camera aside, Alex padded over to Linnie and, without a word, positioned the child so that she was kneeling, both hands resting on her head. Once she had the pose she wanted, Alex began to rapidly snap off shot after shot, getting views of Linnie’s front and profile.

Noticing that her little girl’s nipples were quite visible through the filmy top she wore, Yukio was surprised to find that the sight of her child’s partial nudity only added to her own arousal.

It’s all erotic, she decided, all of it. The whole scene playing out before me. Alex, my daughter, the sexy underthings… it’s all part of the same living dream. She would have given anything to be Linnie at that moment: a pliable doll, there for the sexy photographer to use as she wished.

As if she intended to tease the enthralled mother even more, Alex chose that moment to arrange Linnie again, this time positioning the child on her back with knees folded sideways, fully exposing the crotch of her panties.

Although Yukio knew she oughtn’t to look, her eyes were drawn between the child’s thighs, and a shiver fluttered up and down her spine as she perceived the contours of her daughter’s sex through the skimpy underpants. Linnie had prominent labia for her age, and Yukio could detect the very slight rise of her little girl’s mound. Once again she recalled the lovely flower of Sophie’s vagina, the first she had ever seen up close, and how enchanted she had been by her first lover’s rose-hued lips…

Suddenly angry with herself, Yukio pressed the nails of her right hand into the soft skin of her thigh, willing the sharp pain to sweep away the fevered thoughts that whirled madly inside her head. Alex was the one she wanted, the object of her lust. Why, then, was the sight of her barely-clad daughter feeding that hunger?

Then an image entered, unbidden, into the shocked woman’s mind. She saw herself and Linnie in bed together, the two of them naked, their bodies gently entwined as if they had just made love. Linnie was nuzzling her mummy’s breasts, while Yukio was cupping her child’s firm little bottom with both hands.

No, Yukio admonished herself, clenching her jaw. I won’t allow these thoughts. I won’t!

Once more she gazed at Alex, forcibly banishing these fantasies of incest and pedophilia to the darkest recesses of her mind.

Continue on to Chapter 2

I Was the Daughter of a Porn Star, Chapter 45

  • Posted on August 28, 2016 at 1:15 pm

Meanwhile…

By Cheryl Taggert 

If you need help keeping up with the characters, you may go here.

The woman sat at her makeup table and looked into the mirror at the fading bruises. She would have to find a way to get out of this hell-hole. The mansion was beautiful, but she was treated like shit.

She was naked of course. She wasn’t allowed clothing since she was never allowed off the grounds of the estate. She had no clothes at all, so escaping presented a unique problem of being forced to travel through the jungles of Colombia that stretched for miles with no shoes or covering of any kind. She knew the area’s topography because she sometimes would be taken for a drive to other buildings on the property to have sex with men and women or sometimes young boys and girls. She was never paid anything for her services.

When young boys or girls were involved, at least she wasn’t hit or kicked by the ones she aroused and eventually brought to orgasm with her pussy, hands, or mouth. This made these young ‘customers’ the ones she preferred. She had become a full-fledged pedophile. She had enjoyed sex with adults in a previous time of her life, but no more. Sex with adults meant shame and degradation. It always led to pain, if not physical then mental.

Pablo, her owner, rarely had sex with her anymore, which was fine with her, but he still demanded she never have clothing. She had also been required to have her pubic hair removed by laser to maintain the smoothness she was born with. There were times Pablo ‘allowed’ her to watch him having sex with other women and children, both male and female, and she was told to masturbate herself to an orgasm when that happened. She always had to fake her climaxes during those times unless he was having sex with a young boy or girl. Then she would focus on the child and was able to bring herself to the point of coming by imagining them together in a soft bed with clean sheets and a lot of privacy.

She had long ago stopped worrying whether or not the child wanted the sex she witnessed. When it came to Pablo and sex, nobody wanted what he offered.

There were many who lived on the compound who were kind to her. Carlo, Pablo’s new chauffeur (she had no idea what happened to Tomas, the last one), and Rosalita, one of the maids who had come to work there a year ago, were especially kind to her. In fact, most of the other servants there were kind to her. She liked them, but she saw pity when they looked at her, which filled her with shame.

Looking again in the mirror and doing her best to imagine her face without the fading bruises, she said to her reflection, as she had begun doing soon after arriving here, “My name is Cindy Carmichael. I am alive. I have a daughter Jenna who is now twelve and probably wondering if I’m dead. One day I will see her again.”

It was this promise that kept her alive. That and the daughter she had left with the one woman she knew who would take care of Jenna as if she were her own child. She knew Kayleigh would never try to make the memory of Jenna’s real mother fade away like bruises that caused pain until they were forgotten.

She thought of Jenna numerous times each day. Each time she saw Rosalita’s nine-year-old daughter, Gabriela, she would remember the fun she had with her own daughter, who was only seven when she last saw her.

Cindy never mentioned to Rosalita how much she longed to take Gabriela in her arms and make love to her. In fact, Rosalita was maybe the only adult she saw here that she longed for. The woman was sweet, friendly, and very beautiful with high cheek bones, a slender figure, and jet black hair she kept in a long pony tail. Several times she had witnessed the woman bending over, removing her hair tie and resetting it, and she longed to smother her face in the woman’s tresses, breathe in her scent, and kiss her… while Gabriela licked them both.

She felt the familiar throbbing begin in her loins as the image in her mind sharpened. At least Pablo had not been able to completely desensitize her to sexual desire. She got horny nearly every day and even masturbated herself to orgasm alone in her lumpy bed several times a week. She had come to realize that Pablo and his adult friends were the only problems she had with sex and sexual desire. When she masturbated, she tried not to think of Jenna, Cheryl, and Kayleigh, but the memories of the few times they’d had together would sometimes intrude anyway, which meant she often would be crying by the time she came.

Standing, she looked at her body, which was still flawless. Pablo would never hit her anywhere that might cause permanent damage to the physical beauty below her neck. She made sure she stayed in shape. She exercised daily, including running a circle around the room that held the pool, where she would dive in and swim laps to complete her daily workout routine.

Pablo admired that she was doing this. He mistakenly thought it was for him, but he was a narcissist. He thought everything in the world was for his enjoyment. The real reason, if he knew, would have resulted in a severe punishment of some kind, perhaps even her death at his hands, which she feared was always just a mad thought away.

She was keeping herself in good physical shape because she knew if she ever found an opportunity for escape, she would take it, and being in good condition was imperative if she had the slightest hope for success.

For this reason she lifted weights. Not the weights bodybuilders usually employed because Pablo had none of those. She would find heavy things in the compound and lift them as high as she could, even above her head when that was possible. She swam until she could no longer swim. Cindy had no idea the distance she could go before stopping, but she could swim for almost two hours if allowed that much time to do the laps in the pool. Beyond these things, she ran until she felt her lungs would burst.

And all that time, Pablo suspected nothing of her plans to one day escape. She had been here for a long time now, so he felt she would never attempt it, especially with the deterrents he had put in place, such as her lack of clothing. That was one thing he thought would help prevent escape because of the shame he thought she would face when found, but that was nothing compared to the shame she felt every day being here.

And she had been here for over five years now.

She hoped she would not be here for the sixth anniversary of her humiliation.

She repeated her mantra again and left the room.

********

Gwen lay in her bed with her twelve-year-old niece Carmen. The naked girl had fallen asleep after they had finished the evening in a hot sixty-nine, and now Gwen’s mind turned to the dangerous things she had done and the knowledge her actions had led to, something her mind had been doing a lot lately.

She had decided it best not to involve others, especially Kayleigh, and had continued her investigation into Cindy’s whereabouts on her own. She knew she was risking her life, but she had become insanely paranoid about taking care to ensure word of her continued inquiries never reached Mark Craven. She had been forced to change some of her tactics, even to the point of threatening the people she spoke to by reminding them that certain people might show up on their doorstep if word got out they had spoken.

Those who would not speak to her about Cindy would basically get the same threat, but it became, “If Mr. Craven finds out I even spoke to you, he will come after me, and I will make sure I mention your name before I die.”

So far these threats had worked, and she knew of no reason to suspect they had stopped working, but that didn’t make the moments of worry cease.

She had managed to discover many things about Cindy’s whereabouts, and now she was wondering if she should tell Kayleigh what she knew. She had learned that Cindy was being held on a compound in Colombia, about twenty miles west of the edges of Bogota. She knew that a man who went by the name Pablo Peligro was holding her there. Peligro is the Spanish word for danger. It was almost certainly not his real name, but one chosen for effect.

And just today, she had been given a phone number where she might be able to reach Cindy. It had taken her three years to get this information.

Now that she had it, she wasn’t sure what to do with it, which was why she wondered if it was time to involve Kayleigh.

She had continued the investigation because it haunted her. She had known that wherever Cindy was, she didn’t want to be there. Gwen had no children of her own, but she understood the bond between a mother and her child. She knew that if she were separated from the lovely girl asleep beside her now, she would do anything to get back to her, and Carmen was only her niece.

Now she could look at a map of Colombia, had done so of course, and locate the approximate location of the compound, which covered nearly thirty square miles.

Glancing at Carmen, she eased herself out of bed and tiptoed from the room. Going to her phone, she lifted the receiver and silently hoped Kayleigh was home and not asleep before dialing the number she had never forgotten.

She was disappointed when she heard the answering machine. “Hi, this is Kayleigh… and Cheryl… and Jenna…” each person’s voice said in welcome with a slight pause between introductions. “We’re not home right now,” Kayleigh’s voice continued, “or we can’t come to the phone.” Then Cheryl’s voice continued the outgoing message. “If you’ll leave your name and number, we’ll get back to you.” This was continued by a giggling Jenna, “Unless this is a solicitation call, in which case…” A loud raspberry sound followed this, followed by the three of them saying “Bye-bye” in unison and laughing as the beep cut them off.

Gwen thought it was cute and probably the idea of one or both of the girls. She couldn’t help picturing them nude. Carmen was still friends with Jenna and sometimes stayed the night there, but Gwen had never gone to their home again for fear someone might see her and decide she was still on the case.

When the beep sounded to signal her to leave a message, she decided not to at the last minute when the paranoia reared its ugly but necessary head again. She hung up instead with the intention of trying again in the morning. It was nearly midnight, and it was possible they were all asleep, highly probable in fact.

She stood there wondering what Cheryl and Jenna looked like now. Cheryl would be fifteen and Jenna twelve. She pictured what she thought they would look like naked and wasn’t surprised to feel her clit respond to the fantasy that was taking shape in her mind.

A sound snapped her out of her reverie and she looked first toward her front door, believing she would see Mark Craven standing there with a gun pointed at her, but there was nobody.

Then she heard the sound again and realized it was coming from the hallway that led to her room.

Then Carmen was standing in the doorway to the hall, one hand rubbing her eyes and the other absently scratching her naked pussy, which had begun growing pubic hair several months ago.

“Aunt Gwen?” Carmen asked sleepily. “Whatcha doin’?”

“Just trying to make a call, sweetie. What are you doing up?”

“I woke up and you weren’t in the bed and I just wondered where you were.”

“I was just coming back to bed,” she was saying when a thought struck her.

“When was the last time you stayed over at Jenna’s?”

“About a week ago, I guess. Why?”

“Oh, just wondering. What does she look like these days? Is she still sexy?”

Carmen laughed. “Yeah. Lots. The last time I was there, her aunt joined us in bed. She’s insatiable.”

“That’s a big word from someone so young,” Gwen said.

“I got it from a movie. It’s like this really old porn movie called Insatiable.

“Have you seen that movie?” Gwen asked, remembering the movie from the 80′s that had been one of her own favorites when she was younger.

“Yeah. Over at Jenna’s. Her mom has like every porn movie ever made.”

“And how’s Cheryl these days?”

“Good. She’s sorta babysitting this girl she seduced.”

“How old is the girl?”

“Eleven.”

Gwen took a deep breath. She couldn’t help herself. This conversation was turning her on. She wondered just how sleepy Carmen was now.

“Is this making you horny?” Carmen asked.

“Do you want it to?”

Carmen smiled. “Yeah.”

Apparently, the conversation had aroused the twelve-year-old as well.

“Then yes, it is making me horny. What about you?”

In answer, Carmen reached down and coated her index finger with her juices and stuck it in her mouth, licking away the tasty cream and swallowing what she could.

“I’d say yes, but then I woke up horny,” Carmen said, smiling.

“Don’t you always?” Gwen said and, squeezing the girl’s nearer butt cheek, escorted her back to bed.

When they slid onto the bed, Gwen lay her sexy niece back and began kissing her. She could taste the girl’s fluids on her tongue. The woman began lightly pinching the girl’s nipples and squeezing the developing boob. She once teased Carmen, calling her and her friends the “itty-bitty titty committee.” Then Gwen had laughed and mentioned that she loved the girl’s itty bitty titties and wouldn’t mind enjoying some of her friends’ swelling hills of flesh as well.

She moved her mouth to one of Carmen’s growing mounds and sucked the entire thing into her mouth.

“Not too hard,” Carmen said. Her growing boobs were very tender and she was careful about protecting them from the pain that could result from too much.

Carmen was definitely different from her sister, Clare. The first time Gwen had been in bed with Clare, she found that the fourteen-year-old loved mild pain, asking Gwen to pinch her nipples hard and spank her until her butt was red. Carmen was the milder one, the gentler one.

As Gwen moved down her niece’s slender body, she noticed Carmen had her hand at her pussy, rubbing it softly. The woman shooed the hand away with a gentle swat and replaced it with her mouth. She normally liked to take longer with her nieces, especially Carmen, but the late hour and the fact she needed to get up early created some urgency.

Carmen noticed how quickly her aunt was moving to the treasure of treasures.

“Wow! You’re being really fast,” she said, giggling. “Horny much?”

Gwen raised her head long enough to say, “I’ve gotta get up early tomorrow, so I thought I’d get right down to business” before returning to the girl’s slit.

“I wanna lick you too,” Carmen said, and Gwen swung her leg over the girl and lowered her heated cunt to the girl’s waiting mouth. Once Gwen’s pussy landed there, Carmen wrapped her arms around her aunt’s upper thighs and used both hands to spread the woman’s labia, inserting fingers into her aunt’s vagina and fucking the woman while her tongue worked the stiff clit.

Soon they were both bucking into each other’s mouth, just as they had been just a couple of hours before.

Gwen’s orgasm began to rush up on her. She felt the tingling begin to spread from deep within her to her clit before blooming outward to the rest of her body, causing her nipples to get even harder and her breath to come in gasps of pleasure.

Carmen felt her aunt coming and this triggered her own orgasm. It never ceased to amaze her that she was actually good enough at this to make a grown woman come. She had enjoyed her stay at Jenna’s more than usual this past week because Jenna’s aunt had joined in. She had made the woman come with her mouth, just as she was doing now with her own aunt.

The girl’s hips began to buck wildly as the sensation she craved overpowered her. Her pussy literally throbbed with the feeling that pulsed from deep within her.

Their screams of joy filled the room, and soon Gwen and her niece were lying back, catching their breath and basking in the afterglow of their orgasms. Gwen knew she could come another five times if she wanted to, but it was late and sleep was finally knocking at the door of her mind.

She moved to lie beside Carmen and the girl rested her head on her aunt’s shoulder. Gwen felt the girl’s hand move to her own pussy.

“Is it okay if I get myself off again?” she asked.

Gwen glanced down at her niece’s face, which was turned up to look at her.

“Of course, sweetie. You don’t have to get up early, so you go right ahead.”

The child began rubbing herself, seeking a quick second orgasm… and maybe even a third. Recently, she had found that just one was not enough to satisfy her.

Gwen could feel Carmen’s wet hand that was situated between her leg and the young girl’s pussy begin to move in earnest. She thought she might not be able to sleep until her niece finished jilling, but she never felt the girl’s shivers as the climax enveloped her in warmth and pleasure. Having finally made the decision to tell Kayleigh about what she’d discovered, she was able to sleep soundly for the first time in a long while.

Continue on to Chapter 46

The Story of a Story

  • Posted on August 27, 2016 at 2:24 pm

By Naughty Mommy

In a recent comment on the last chapter I’ve posted of The Joy of Looking, someone said: “I wish this would get updated!”

In a similar comment a few weeks earlier, another person said: “This is a wonderful story but it has been a month since the the last part was posted. Has the story ended or will there be more parts?”

As I said in my reply to the comment just above, I do intend to write and post more, and in fact I have the completion of the JoL epic pretty well planned out. That will probably consist of two or three additional chapters, possibly more; I won’t know until I actually sit down and write it.

Currently I’m spending most of my author time working on Secrets, but that story’s getting close to a finish now too. I’m presently in the middle of composing Chapter 21, though I’ve only posted five chapters at this point. As you know, I prefer to work fairly far ahead when creating extended length stories. That way I can easily revise earlier sections as new developments take place later on in the plot. At any rate, after I wrap up Secrets, I’ll likely tackle the last few chapters of The Joy of Looking.

Something occurred to me recently as I was thinking about why I’ve been putting off bringing JoL to a close. Perhaps it’s because I’ve grown so fond of the characters that I just can’t bear to let them go. I don’t want to have to say goodbye. After all, Julie and her family have been a big part of my life for something like eight years now. I’ve invested countless hours thinking about them and reporting on all their adventures.

I can’t actually remember when I began writing that story. The original version, then titled “Underage Voyeurs,” is lost in the fog of time (and on outdated, discarded computers), but I think I started it back around 2008 or possibly even earlier. I wrote the first three or four chapters, then put it down for a few years, not picking it up again until after I’d published my first story online at Lesbian Lolita and received so many wonderful, supportive comments. I was excited then to write more — and once I got going on the continuation of JoL, it seemed to take on a life of its own. Julie and her mom and the rest of her family and their friends had so many things to tell me and show me that I couldn’t wait to keep writing the next chapter, and the next chapter, and so on.

Over about seven months, from November 2012 to May 2013, I wrote and published more than 80 chapters. It was a whirlwind of erotic creativity, incredibly thrilling but also exhausting. By the end, I was ready to let go. When I finally posted Chapter 84 at Leslita (on Mother’s Day, hee-hee), I thought that really would be The End.

Except it wasn’t.

When JetBoy and Cheryl and I began making plans for Juicy Secrets, I was convinced by them that I should write at least a few more chapters to extend my opus and bring it to a suitable finale. I agreed, of course, but once again the story just took off. Now it’s up to 133 chapters — more than 496,000 words, almost half a million! — and still it’s not complete. Getting pretty close, though.

I know there are some who say they want this story never to end. I understand and I sympathize. As I said, I truly will hate to say farewell to these beloved characters. They feel like family to me.

Nevertheless, it can’t go on forever. I’m afraid that if I just kept churning out chapters, I would end up repeating myself. It would get stale, and I don’t want that to happen. I love this story too much.

So, look for the last few chapters (and this time, I swear, it really will be only a few) at some point in the fairly near future — not right away, mind you, but probably by the end of 2016.

When it’s all finally over, I will grieve. It won’t be easy. Yet there will be something to celebrate as well: the joyous conclusion of what is for me a major artistic accomplishment. Compared to legitimate authors, it’s maybe not such a big deal, but I’m quite proud of myself for having achieved this.

And oh, by the way, I’ve also enjoyed a whole lot of delicious orgasms along the way. And isn’t that what it’s really all about?

More Than Just Friends, Chapter 13

  • Posted on August 27, 2016 at 9:40 am

By Jeneee

I slid into the hot bubbling water and perched myself beside my waiting girlfriend, who then leaned over and whispered into my ear, “So, just what did keep you, huh?” But before I could respond she kissed me lightly on the lips and, tasting Becky’s juices on me, added, “As if I didn’t know, you slut. Couldn’t wait to get to her, could you?” she giggled.

I hugged her and smiled. “I’m sure you’ll get your chance before long, sweetie.”

“Damn right, I will,” she whispered back. “That pussy of hers demands all the attention it can get. She is so adorable.”

“Mmmm,” I replied, “and while we are on the subject, her aunt is built the same way.”

Sharon stared at me.

“While Pam was packing her bag, Maggie, that’s her name, came on to me.”

Sharon waited.

“But I didn’t encourage her, and I didn’t respond either,” I quickly continued, seeing the frown on Sharon’s pretty face. “I kinda think she’s not that enamored with her girlfriend, though. She was trying to show her gratitude for us taking care of Pam for a few days while she is tied up with her show and wanted to know if she could do anything for me in return,” I added smiling.

“So you felt her pussy?” Sharon asked, continuing to frown.

“No, after I rejected her advances, she just grabbed my hand and pressed it between her legs and showed me what was waiting for me if I ever changed my mind. That’s how I know she’s built the same way as Pam. And Becky confirmed it when we were, you know, in the kitchen. After seeing both her and Pam I wondered if it ran in the family and she told me that just her aunt, not her mom, was like that.”

“Well, okay,” my girlfriend replied. “Next time you go over there with the girls, though, I’m going with you.”

“Why? Don’t you trust me?” I asked.

“Of course I do,” she replied, as her frown slowly changed to a grin. “It’s just maybe she’ll let me feel that big kitten she has purring between her legs.”

I punched her shoulder and giggled.

What a weekend this has been so far, I mused contentedly to myself. I thought about everything that had happened to us in less than twenty-four hours. When Emily came home with Pam last night I could never have imagined we’d be sitting here in the hot tub the next day looking across at our two young girls, with whom we’d now both been intimate, then at Pam’s sexy teenage sister, whose luscious pussy was still fresh on my lips as my tongue traveled slowly back and forth enjoying the aftertaste.

I felt Sharon’s hand lazily caressing my thigh as we both watched Emily and Pam showing Becky the best place to sit if she wanted to experience the thrill of the hot tub jets. Their giggles were a joy to hear as they watched the effect it was having on her and the expressions it brought to her face when her pussy caught the force of the water.

Then I caught my breath as Emily suddenly hugged Pam close to her and kissed her gently on her lips, her hand disappearing below the water and obviously making its way between Pam’s thighs. Becky watched as her sister started to make out in earnest with her new friend, looked over to us with a sly wink, then edged her way around to sit on the other side of Sharon from me.

“Aren’t they sweet?” she said. “My little sister has her first lover – well, that is, if you don’t count me.”

“Or me,” Sharon added as she smiled at Becky, gently squeezing her thigh with her other hand.

“Oh, right,” Becky replied. “She did mention something about that when I was upstairs having my shower. Seems you two ladies can’t keep your hands off of young girls. Shame on you,” she added laughing. “Not that I mind,” she continued, as Sharon’s hand now slid further up Becky’s thigh toward her pussy, causing her to sigh contentedly.

Meanwhile, across the hot tub things were beginning to heat up even more between Emily and Pam. They were furiously necking, oblivious to everything around them, each with a hand between the other’s legs. I was becoming more and more aroused watching them, aided in part by the attention Sharon was giving my own pussy and, I suspected, to Becky’s as well. But I couldn’t tear my eyes away from my daughter as she suddenly stood up and sat on the edge of the tub, spreading her legs wide, at which point Pam turned around and buried her face between Emily’s slim thighs and busied herself with licking her new girlfriend’s pussy.

It was a sight I could never have even dreamed I would see – my little girl, leaning back on her arms, eyes closed, humping her crotch up and down as Pam worked her magic on her sweet, juicy cunny. From where we sat it was hard to see what else Pam was doing, except that her hand was also busy, no doubt thrusting a finger or two gently in and out of Emily’s cunt as she teased her tiny clit. The pure sensuality of the moment was increased by the moans I could hear beside me, coming from Becky, whose own pussy was delighting in the experienced touch it was receiving from my girlfriend.

I leaned my head on Sharon’s shoulder and squeezed one of her nipples the way that I knew drove her crazy, and this spurred on the attention she was paying to Becky’s swollen pussy. Now it was Becky’s turn to lean back and thrust herself into Sharon’s talented ministrations below the bubbly surface of the water, her hard pointy nipples rising up like periscopes, longing for someone to play with them.

But the cries of delight from across the hot tub drew my attention back to Emily and Pam, and I watched in delight as my little girl experienced her first orgasm from her new lover, her hands forcefully grasping Pam’s head, holding it tightly against her pussy, not letting go for all she was worth, jerking uncontrollably against her face. Then ever so slowly she started to relax her grip and let go of Pam as her eyes opened and a wicked smile spread across her face.

She leaned down and hugged Pam to her, kissing her softly on her lips. “I love you, Pam,” she whispered, gazing into her new girlfriend’s eyes. “That was so hot,” she added, bouncing up from the deck of the hot tub. Then she looked across at us and squealed in delight, “Look at your sister. She’s getting it from Sharon now. Come on, let’s go help!” And she scooted over beside Becky, pulling Pam along with her.

Whatever Sharon was doing to Becky under the water, and I could pretty well guess, had the young teen moaning even louder now, and as Pam and Emily each seized one of her hardened nipples, first pulling and then sucking on them in tandem, it drove her over the brink and she exploded with a cry of delight at the mixture of sensations flooding her young body.

My pussy was on fire from watching all that was happening, and my own hand joined Sharon’s in rubbing desperately at my swollen clit. It wasn’t long before Pam and my little girl clued in to my aroused state and, fresh from treating Becky’s nipples, they immediately crossed over to me, each squeezing a boob, forcing the nipple up and out, and then closing their sweet mouths around them. I was in heaven.

I left my pussy for Sharon again, removing my own hand and stroking the hair of my two young lovers as they suckled my aroused nipples. Sharon’s fingers were driving me crazy in their usual way, and I raised myself up onto the side of the hot tub to make things a little more comfortable. My body cooled a little outside of the water, but heated up even more from the sexual frenzy that was overwhelming me. I then became conscious of a tongue sliding over my engorged clit and, opening my eyes a little, I saw Becky had added herself to the fray after recovering from her orgasm.

Now the four of them were eagerly urging my body toward what would be one of the most incredible pinnacles I had ever reached in my life. The two little girls had my nipples shooting signals down my body toward my swollen clit, which was being expertly sucked by our new fourteen year old beauty, while my girlfriend worked her magic fingers deep within my pussy in a way that only she knew would drive me over the edge.

And drive me they did. The edge came fast and furious. My pussy exploded — juices, pee, all squirting everywhere, Becky eagerly lapping up whatever she could, her face soon soaked with the uncontrollable flow of my fluids. I collapsed on the side of the hot tub, unable to move, trying to regain my breathing, Pam and my daughter hugging me, Emily whispering in my ear, “Are you okay, Mommy?”

As I opened my eyes, hugging Pam and Emily tightly to me, I saw Sharon holding Becky, kissing her mouth, tonguing my juices from her shiny face, and I smiled contentedly.

“Yes, sweetie. I’m okay. I’m more than okay, in fact.” She kissed my cheek while Pam kissed the other. Then in front of my eyes my two young girls kissed and I stared in wonder as their tongues entwined and their soft lips played so sensually against each other, their shiny, damp hair clinging to their faces and draping across my breasts. I hugged them both, whispering as much to myself as to them how much I loved them.

At that moment I knew we were all more than just friends. We had become one big, happy, loving family.

Continue on to Chapter 14

More Than Just Friends, Chapter 14

  • Posted on August 27, 2016 at 9:40 am

By Jeneee

I slowly slid my way back down into the hot tub, a satisfied smile on my face, the hot bubbly water caressing my glowing skin in the aftermath of an amazing orgasm, quite unlike any I had experienced before. I was quickly joined by Emily and Pam, and together we watched as Becky and Sharon continued to hug and kiss in front of us, Sharon’s hands grasping and squeezing Becky’s cute little butt as their bodies squirmed against each other.

Emily giggled and nudged Pam as one of Sharon’s squeezes caused Becky’s cheeks to spread, revealing her butt hole and forcing her very prominent pussy to open wide. “Her cunny is even bigger than yours,” she teased Pam as she poked her.

“Well, she is older than me,” Pam replied, jabbing her back playfully. “Wait until I get to be fourteen,” she added, sticking out her tongue at Emily.

“Hey, Mommy,” Emily said, turning to me, “it looks like Sharon has a new girlfriend. Aren’t you jealous?”

“No sweetie,” I laughed as I slipped my hands down between the thighs of my two young lovers on either side of me, gently cupping their swollen pussies. “Because I have two new girlfriends too, don’t I?” I teased.

“Woo-hoo, yeah,” Emily replied, pushing back against my palm while Pam snuggled up on the other side of me and squeezed her legs tightly together, trapping my hand, a gentle sigh escaping her lips.

Sharon finally released Becky and smiled at me over her shoulder as the young teen turned around to face us. Her firm breasts stood out proudly, their nipples at full attention as Sharon cupped them and softly ran her fingers across their hard points, which seemed to become even harder from her caresses.

“Isn’t she gorgeous?” she mouthed to me as I gazed back at them with mixed feelings, hovering between extreme arousal and slight jealousy. But I chided myself quickly since, after all, I had been the first to taste Becky’s charms a little while ago in the kitchen, so what did I have to feel jealous about?

I smiled at the two of them as they stepped back into the hot tub and sank deeply into the relaxing bubbles that now delightfully massaged all of our bodies. As Emily and Pam cuddled beside me, I found myself pondering where all this was going to lead, my thoughts falling back to the predicament in which the two sisters now found themselves as their parents served their jail terms.

Maggie would have no choice but to look after them, whether she wanted to or not, unless… unless we could come up with a satisfactory alternative, satisfactory to the girls, to Maggie, and of course to the girls’ parents. Several possibilities flitted through my mind, one of them having the girls stay with me, but I quickly dismissed that since there simply wasn’t enough room in my house. Well, Pam could stay in Emily’s room – that would work, but there was just no room for Becky.

And then – wow, this might work! – I suddenly thought to myself. I’d been trying for months to convince Sharon to give up her apartment, where she rarely stayed overnight anyhow, and come to live with us permanently. She had stubbornly refused up to now, the reason being that she thought Emily and I might sometimes need time to be alone. In spite of our assurances that we could still be alone while she was at work during the day, she had held on to her apartment.

“Would you girls like something to drink?” I asked Emily and Pam. Their heads nodded. “Becky, how about you?”

“Okay, Jen, thanks,” she replied, stretching her arms high above her head — again doing wonders with her firm young breasts, which still looked as though they were begging for attention.

“Sharon, come give me a hand,” I asked her, standing up and reaching over to pull her onto her feet.

“You and Becky seem to have hit it off well,” I teased, as we walked into the kitchen, the screen door banging behind us.

“Told you I’d get my turn,” she replied, giving me a sly wink. “I wasn’t going to let you be the only one to molest her,” she giggled. “She’s so adorable, and experienced way beyond her years. And her boobs, mmm, so firm and kissable.”

I nodded. “Yeah, I noticed you couldn’t leave them alone. I’ve been thinking,” I said, as I opened the refrigerator door, the cool air immediately causing me to shiver and harden my nipples. “About Becky,” I added, as Sharon looked at me, waiting. “About what’s going to happen to her. And to Pam, for that matter.” I started to pull a few cans of soda from the fridge, wondering how to put this idea to Sharon.

She waited.

“Your apartment,” I started.

“What about it?” she asked, probably wondering if I was going to return to our old disagreement again, but then, suddenly sensing where I was going she continued with, “Wow, that’s a great idea, hon. Becky could move in with me. We’d have to ask her aunt, of course. And I guess she’d have to okay it with her parents. And that’s going to be an interesting challenge,” she continued, as I struggled to deal with her eagerness, recent images of her and Becky flooding my mind. “That was what you were going to suggest, wasn’t it?”

“Er, well it did occur to me that Becky might like to move in there until other plans could be made. Pam could still stay with us sharing Emily’s room, of course – Emily will just love that – but the only other room available here is the one you use, and I suppose Becky could share that since you usually end up sleeping with me anyway,” I laughed. “But it might make the house a little crowded, so…”

“I think it’s a great idea, having her at my apartment,” she interrupted again before I could finish. “So, aren’t you happy now that I didn’t give it up?” she added, with a teasing smile.

I was somewhat taken aback by her eagerness, and started to wonder if I had made a mistake suggesting it in the first place. Not that I was jealous of a fourteen year old girl living with my girlfriend, but it would also mean that Sharon would not be sleeping with me as much, at least during the school week. And I had to be honest with myself – after that little scene in the hot tub – flashes of Becky and Sharon sleeping together at her apartment were darting through my mind in spite of myself.

My face must have given something away because, as if on cue, Sharon blurted out, “Oh, baby, you don’t think…” she started, and put her hands on my shoulders, peering into my eyes. “Surely you don’t…”

I interrupted, “No, of course not sweetie,” I smiled, coming to my senses. “It’s just that we won’t see each other as much until this whole thing gets worked out properly. Besides, we still don’t know if Maggie will agree to it anyway. Or the girls’ parents, for that matter.”

“Well,” Sharon, resolved, picking up some plastic glasses from the counter and turning to the door, “let’s go ask Becky and Pam what they think. And if they’re in favor of it we’d better contact their aunt and bounce the idea off of her. Although I can’t see her disagreeing… except that she’ll have to ask their parents for permission, even if they are in jail.”

I grabbed the sodas and followed her out the door, still wondering if we were doing the right thing. Cheers went up from the three girls as we appeared with their drinks.

“We were about to come in and look for you two,” Emily said, as she reached for one of the cans of soda and a plastic glass. “Thought maybe you had decided to mess around without us,” she teased, as the other two girls giggled.

“Oh, so now we have to invite you lot to join us when we make out? Is that the way it’s gonna work from now on?” Sharon asked as she jumped back into the tub with a splash.

I followed, sitting beside Becky with my daughter on the other side of me. Sharon and Pam were across from us, Pam still glowing from having her sister back with her again.

“We were trying to come up with a way of helping you two orphans get through this period of being separated from your parents,” I explained, as Pam looked eagerly at me, a hopeful look on her pretty face. “And we have an idea.”

Emily screeched out, “They can stay here! Right, mom? Is that what you decided?”

I laughed, but then got serious as I put the plan to both girls. “Well, partly, sweetie. But there isn’t enough room here for everyone. It would just be too crowded.”

“But they could sleep with me in my bed,” Emily suggested, trying to be helpful in her own sweet way.

“Oh, sure, honey. And just how much sleep do you think you’d all get?” I countered. “You’d be kicking each other all night long. Not to mention your other activities,” I grinned. “Your bed is too small, but…” I continued, as she started to protest, “Pam could share it with you.”

Emily smiled, but then frowned, “But what about Becky?”

“Well, that’s what we were discussing.” I turned to Becky and asked, “What if your aunt agreed to let you stay with Sharon at her apartment? As long as it was okay with your parents, that is. And Pam could stay with us here. That would get both of you out of her hair for awhile and leave her free to do whatever it is she does, with her art and teaching, I mean. You and Sharon could still come over here on weekends, and for meals during the week, so you’d still see Pam a lot.”

I was taken by surprise as Becky suddenly burst into tears and hugged me tightly, sobbing into my shoulder. Sharon looked over at me, her eyes wide at this unexpected outburst from Becky, and I noticed even Pam had a tear flowing down her cheek.

Emily was uncharacteristically silent at this emotional display, but I knew she was hoping that her new friends would agree to this arrangement, and at the same time praying that the girls’ aunt and parents would also go along with it. Frankly, I felt it was really up to Maggie, since Becky and Pam’s parents had left her in an awkward situation, and shouldn’t really have anything to complain about.

As I softly stroked Becky’s hair, she slowly regained her composure and looked up at me with tears in her eyes. “You’d really do that for us?” she managed, between slowly subsiding sobs. “I can’t believe how sweet you all are. You barely know us.”

And here Emily returned to her usual form, exclaiming, “We know you well enough that I love your sister, and I think I’m going to love you too, Becky.” I turned to my beautiful daughter and hugged her with my other arm as Becky wiped away a few tears and smiled at us, resting her head on my shoulder and sighing contentedly.

“I was so worried what would happen to us,” she almost whispered in my ear. “You and Sharon are just like our guardian angels.” And she kissed me softly on my mouth, still hugging me tightly. “Thanks, Jen. And thank you, Sharon,” she added, looking across at my girlfriend, who still had Pam clinging to her side.

“Well then, I guess it’s settled,” Sharon said. “Now what we have to do is ask your aunt if it’s okay. Shall we all go over there this afternoon, or shall we phone?”

“Phone,” Pam exclaimed loudly. “She’s too busy with her show for all of us to go over there again now anyway.”

“But I’m sure she’d want to meet Sharon, sweetie,” I told her. “After all, Becky will be staying with her. And she hasn’t even seen Becky since, you know, since your mom and dad went away.”

“Well then, phone first. And if she wants to meet Sharon, Becky and her can go over. I want to stay here, with you and Emily.” Pam’s shyness of yesterday seemed to have quickly evaporated, and she was figuratively putting her foot down all of a sudden. Then she realized how she must sound. “I’m sorry, Jen. I don’t mean to sound rude, but…” and she blushed and hugged Sharon who pulled her close and kissed her cheek, telling her that it was okay, we understood.

“Mom, does that mean that Sharon won’t be sleeping here as much?” Emily asked, suddenly realizing the implications of this new arrangement.

I nodded. “She can still come to stay on weekends, sweetie. And we can squeeze Becky in somewhere too, so don’t worry about it. And they can come to dinner during the week. I don’t think Sharon could last too long without my pasta, do you?” I winked at her. Emily giggled, reassured once more.

This aspect was not lost on Becky either. “I’m sorry, Jen. I didn’t mean for this to interfere with your relationship with Sharon. I can tell you two are really in love, and it means even more to me now, what you’re doing for Pam and me.”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it, sweetie. You know we are all close now, like a family, and you’ve both shared in our intimacy, so we’re all more than just friends.” And I tweaked one of her nipples for emphasis, bringing a smile to her face and a sigh of appreciation. “Remember what Emily just said. We love you and Pam.”

*****

It came to pass that Maggie was agreeable to the new arrangement, and Becky immediately moved into Sharon’s apartment, and Pam into Emily’s bed, much to her delight. We all soon settled into the ways of our extended family, and our lives grew even more delightful as the weeks flew by, and summer turned into fall.

*****

“You realize your daughters are turning into lesbians, don’t you?”

Maggie leveled this at her sister one fall day as she visited her in the county jail. “Becky is sleeping with that older woman, you know. The girlfriend of the one who is looking after Pammy. And Pammy is having sex with that other woman’s eight year old daughter, too.”

“You were supposed to be looking after them. You couldn’t even manage to do that for me, you bitch. Too busy with your own fucking art. What kind of sister are you, anyway?”

“Look who’s talking. You’re the one who hooked up with that pervert husband of yours, and look where it got you. Is it any wonder Becky’s turned out the way she has, with a father like that? How could you let him get away with abusing her that way, fucking the poor kid when she was only twelve years old? It’s just lucky he didn’t get her pregnant. And then turning her into a fucking stripper, for God’s sake. What kind of woman are you, anyway? He would have done the same thing to Pammy if you hadn’t got caught.”

And with that, Maggie got up to leave, disgusted once more with her sister.

“Wait, don’t go yet, please. I’m gonna turn him in. I want a divorce and I’m going to report what that bastard did to her to the cops. And you’re right, he would have done the same to Pammy. That’s what woke me up. I was the one who leaked the information about the club to the police — anonymously, of course. I’d had enough. I caught him going into the back room where the girls were sleeping one night after we closed, and I just knew what he was going to do. That was it for me.”

Maggie looked at her sister with slightly more respect, and sat down again. “So, what’s going to happen?”

“They’ll arrest him and there’ll be another trial. Poor Becky will have to testify. I hate to do that to her, but I don’t think there’s any way around it. I’m sure she still loves her daddy and it’s going to hurt her. But damn it, I can’t see any other way.” She hung her head and sobbed.

Maggie left her alone like that. I can’t help her, she thought to herself as she drove away from the dreary jail compound. I just can’t help her any more.

But she had to think of some way to protect Becky. There was no way she was going to let her niece go through having to testify about all that shit, and drudge up memories that she had by now undoubtedly buried in her subconscious. No way. But that will have to wait for another day.

Continue on to Chapter 15

More Than Just Friends, Chapter 15

  • Posted on August 27, 2016 at 9:39 am

By Jeneee

The next two years passed by quickly as we adjusted and adapted to the new situation we had inadvertently brought upon ourselves that weekend, when Pam and Becky first entered our lives. We quickly settled into a new routine, dealing day by day with the bumps in the road that developed, some quite emotionally challenging, as unforeseen difficulties arose with our new living arrangements.

But the young are resilient, and both Emily and Pam dealt with everything as it came along, my daughter’s infectious humor acting as a soothing tonic when things became particularly difficult as more and more of Becky and Pam’s past was revealed to us. Some of it came out in shocking ways during visits to their mother in jail, especially the time that she accused Becky of teasing her father and allowing him to seduce her when she was twelve years old, just prior to the formal opening of their club.

Even Pam hadn’t known about it, the older girl keeping it a closely guarded secret, and in her own way believing her curiosity about sex had allowed it to happen. Her father had caught her playing with herself one morning when Pam and her mother were out, and had decided to – as he put it to her – educate her in the ways of the world. She was a willing student, but fear that her mother would find out kept her from letting it happen again. She’d let it slip to her aunt one day, however, who immediately told her sister, Karen, what had happened.

The ugly scene that followed between Becky’s parents almost caused them to separate, but Karen backed down in a moment of weakness, convincing herself that Becky had been the instigator. She never let on to Becky that she knew what had happened — until, that is, the day of their visit to the jail, when it all came out.

Karen’s threat to expose her husband’s behavior never materialized, however. Instead, she told him she wanted a divorce and for him to admit to the authorities that the club was his idea and that he’d coerced her to go along under duress. In addition she wanted sole custody of Pam and Becky once she was released. Otherwise she would reveal the truth and he would end up behind bars for a long time. Reluctantly, he agreed, and the courts granted her an early release and allowed her to reunite with her children. The following year the divorce was finalized, and then Pam and Becky had to deal with the knowledge that they would probably never see their father again.

After a brief period of emotional turmoil and tears, things eventually settled down and with support from us — and, a little surprisingly, from Maggie, who soon developed a new respect for her sister for finding a way to prevent Becky from becoming involved with a nasty court scene — Karen and her daughters were able to resume a somewhat happier family life together.

Maggie bought a small art gallery from a friend of hers and took Karen on as a partner. Their business started to thrive as Maggie’s art works became more and more popular, and her student base increased. Karen took over the lease on Sharon’s apartment and I finally got my wish of having my girlfriend move in permanently with me and Emily. Pam and Becky stayed with us on weekends, since that was when the gallery did most of its business, requiring Karen to spend much of her time at the gallery. She seemed to have adjusted well to her new life, as had the girls.

Weekends were usually tumultuous at our house. Pam shared Emily’s bedroom – and bed, naturally – while Becky took over Sharon’s old room. Sharon, of course, slept with me. We were lucky we had two bathrooms, even though the upstairs one was the only one with a tub and shower. Needless to say, group showers were common, and Sharon and I often awoke on Saturday mornings to the squeals and screeches of delight as two, or sometimes even three, girls played together as they shampooed each other’s hair and washed each others’ backs – and more.

Lately though, Becky – who was now sixteen – tended to sleep in on weekends; that is unless Emily and Pam, after finishing their shower, decided to pounce on her and awaken her from whatever dreams were flitting through her mind. Her grumbles soon turned to sighs and moans of satisfaction, however, as the two ten year olds worked their magic on the teen’s willing young body. She had taught them well and reaped the benefits, usually exploding in orgasmic delights before finally stumbling off to the bathroom for her own shower.

And then she often found Sharon and I had already beaten her to the hot water, but we were more than willing to squeeze her in with us before it ran out completely. One morning when the three of us were squashed tightly together in the shower our lovemaking consumed us, only to be brought to a shocking end as the water finally turned cold. Our screams and giggles soon attracted the attention of Emily and Pam, who rushed in to see what was causing the commotion.

“And just what were you up to?” Emily challenged, looking severely at us, her hands on her hips.

“As if we didn’t know,” piped up Pam. “And I thought we’d satisfied you,” she scolded her sister. “What’s the matter, Becky? Didn’t we do a good enough job?” she pouted.

“You did a great job, Pammy, but you know me – I just can’t resist seconds,” Becky laughed.

“How about thirds?” piped up my daughter, moving quickly over beside Becky and slipping her hand between the older girl’s thighs. “Oh wow, Becky, your cunt is so, like, soaked,” she giggled, stressing the word ‘cunt’ as if to shock her audience. But we were beyond shocking anymore, and Sharon immediately commented on what a little slut our ten year old Emily was becoming.

“What has happened to our sweet little girl?” she wanted to know, a sly look on her face. Her answer consisted of Emily sticking out her tongue, hands on hips as she did a little bump and grind. “Wanna put that tongue to good use, slut,” Sharon taunted even further, trying, but failing, to suppress a smile as Becky snorted beside her.

“Try me,” Emily challenged, as Pam giggled beside her. “Didn’t you get enough either, Sharon? What’s the matter, Mom? You losing your touch?” she added as she quickly darted out through the bathroom door to avoid the inevitable swat to her behind that she knew would be coming her way if she wasn’t quick enough.

“Race you to the hot tub,” she squealed as she disappeared, running downstairs with Pam following not far behind.

“Well, things seem to be returning to normal after all this time,” Sharon observed, smiling broadly as she reached for a towel to dry herself off.

“Yeah,” Becky agreed. “Reminds me of the first day I met you two,” she mused quietly, grabbing a towel and handing it over to me, then reaching for one for herself. As I dried myself I gazed at her gorgeous body. She had developed even more during the past two years, her breasts swelling to a firm 36C, nipples proudly displayed, hard and firm, beckoning for attention. Her hips had broadened and her heart shaped butt was the envy of all her friends, guys frequently fawning over her at school. But she would have nothing to do with them.

“I guess I’m turning out like my aunt,” she commented one day after she had hung up the phone from talking with a boy who had been urging her to go out with him now for several weeks. “Guys don’t do a thing for me.” Sharon and I had both looked at each other, wondering just how big a role her father had played in that decision, but didn’t say anything, deciding to let her explore her feelings without any interference from us.

During the weeks when Becky had stayed with Sharon at her apartment. they’d had many candid conversations about sex and lesbianism, Sharon acting as a mentor to the young girl without trying to persuade her one way or the other. Several times they had ended up in bed together at night, Sharon usually hugging the teen tightly as the tears flowed from having related more and more of her past to my girlfriend.

And, yes, Sharon had confided in me, they did make love a few times. It just seemed to lead that way, she explained. I nodded in understanding, but nevertheless felt small pangs of jealousy, more from feeling left out than feeling that Sharon was being unfaithful to me. I knew what a hard time Becky must be having, coming to grips with what had happened to her and her sister, and couldn’t blame Sharon for doing her best to make Becky feel more comfortable with the sexual urges that sometimes overwhelmed her, and trying to comfort the young girl and explain that there was nothing wrong with her.

Not surprisingly, I sometimes found myself becoming turned on as Sharon described some of the things she and Becky got into, and my girlfriend and I experienced a few hot moments together from time to time as she related what had happened. Once in a while, when she and Becky had come over for the weekend, the teen even joined us in bed at night and we both shared the delights the then fourteen year old had to offer as she became even more skilled in the art of lovemaking.

Her pussy was a joy to play with, her inner labia being so large and pliable, and I just loved to suck them individually into my mouth, savoring the creamy juices that flowed freely from inside her cunny as she became more and more aroused. Her clit was enormous for a girl of her age, easily the size of the first joint of my little finger and Susan and I would take turns swirling out tongues around it and wrapping our lips over it as she squirmed almost uncontrollably from the loving attention we poured onto her. When the young girl exploded in orgasm her sweet juices veritably poured from her over our faces and we relished the three-way kisses we had afterwards as Becky slowly came back down to earth.

So here it was, another Saturday morning in early summer, and the good old reliable hot tub awaited us once more. Emily and Pam had already uncovered it and turned it on, and were probably settling down in front of their favorite jets already. On empty stomachs, too, I mused to myself.

By now, Susan and Becky had finished blow-drying their hair and turned the dryer over to me. As they headed downstairs, I asked them to put on the coffee and pour some juice for the girls before joining them. By the time I got downstairs the coffee was perked, filling the kitchen with its delicious aroma. I was no good without my morning cup, and along with the creamy donuts Susan had picked up on her way home from work the night before, we were all set for our ‘jet-propelled breakfast,’ as Emily called it, rapidly becoming a weekend tradition around our place. Not all that healthy, I admit, but it served as a quick and convenient way to start the day.

Later in the morning, we would all get dressed and head out to the market for our weekly groceries. The lunch that followed when we arrived home would more than make up for the dietary deficiencies of our breakfast, and it was around the lunch table that we all made plans for the rest of the weekend.

Last night there had been a few suggestions that we surprise Maggie and Karen at the gallery, and see just what they got up to on their busy weekends. Whether that plan actually materialized would have to wait until we gathered together around the lunch table.

Who knows what might be in store for us?

Continue on to Chapter 16

More Than Just Friends, Chapter 16

  • Posted on August 27, 2016 at 9:38 am

By Jeneee

Soup and sandwiches were rapidly devoured and coffee, juice and soda gulped down as our close-knit family suddenly seemed to be in a hurry to get to the second half of our Saturday. It was almost as if we had all agreed on what was on the agenda, even though nothing had been decided — in so many words, at least. Well, almost all of us had agreed, as it turned out.

“So? What’s it to be?” Sharon asked as she poured her third cup of coffee. “Are we going to the gallery, or what?”

“Yeah, let’s,” piped up Emily, a sly smile on her face. “Let’s go see what your mom and aunt get up to every weekend,” she added, looking across at Becky and Pam.

Becky groaned. “Do we have to?” she complained. “They’re just gonna be busy with their art, and probably with a class or two. Bo-ring,” she added, plunking her bottle of soda on the table beside her empty plate.

“Well, I wanna go see,” Emily persisted. “I’ve been sort of looking forward to it since we mentioned it last night. What about you, Pam?”

“I wouldn’t mind going, really. I’m kind of curious what Mom does every weekend. You don’t have to come if you don’t want, Becky,” she added, smiling at her sister beside her. “You can always stay here and finish your homework,” she teased, knowing that final exams were coming up soon for Becky.

Becky groaned again. “Not what I had in mind,” she grumbled. “I was thinking more of the hot tub,” she added, looking up hopefully for a positive response from the others.

“We can always come back afterward for that,” I suggested, knowing how much of a ritual tubbing had become for our extended family over the past couple of years.

“Yeah, come on, Becky,” Sharon urged. “It won’t be as much fun if we don’t all go together.”

Becky shrugged. “Well, okay; but let’s not stay too long. They won’t want us in the way anyway if they have lots of customers.”

So the decision had been made. We all pushed away from the table, cleared things up a bit and soon found ourselves piling into my new minivan, heading off downtown toward the Gallery Of Friends, as Maggie and Karen had decided to name their business venture.

Situated at the end of a row of stores in a strip mall, its colorful window display usually featured a sample of works from the artist of the month. Except this time there was just a multicolored sign in big letters promoting: ‘A Showing, By Marilyn Ellington’ filling the whole front showcase.

“So who’s this Marilyn Ellington, anyway?” Sharon wondered aloud, as we approached the building after struggling to find a parking space in the crowded lot. The strip mall was filled with weekend shoppers getting their groceries and other supplies for the coming week. “And why are there none of her paintings in the window?” she mused.

I shrugged. “Guess we’ll find out soon enough,” I replied as we opened the door and waltzed in breezily, one after the other, except for the inseparable Pam and Emily who squeezed through the door together, holding hands and giggling expectantly.

“Oh, look, Mommy. Naked ladies!” Emily suddenly cried out as our attention was immediately drawn to a wall filled with what looked like pastels of nude females, with the occasional charcoal drawing mixed in.

“Well, I guess we know now why there weren’t any in the window,” Sharon chuckled. “Just look at some of those poses!” she exclaimed. Emily and Pam had already moved swiftly down the wall trying to take everything in at once, their loud entry upon seeing what was on display seemingly attracting the attention of a few other gallery guests, who were smiling at the outspoken girls’ comments which periodically burst from their mouths, interspersed with the occasional squeal as they nudged one another.

We all distinctly heard, “Look at the size of her boobies! Oh my God, she’s got so much hair on her cunny. Hey, look at that one, she can’t be any older than Becky! Mommy, she’s spreading her cun…” before I finally interrupted and cut her off in mid-word just in time.

“Emily! Quiet!” I hissed loudly, just as Karen appeared from a door at the back of the gallery to see what was causing all the sudden commotion.

“Oh, it’s you lot,” she frowned. “Might have known you’d choose today to visit.”

“We didn’t know you had a showing of nudes, mom,” Becky replied with a slight smirk. “We just decided we’d come and see what kept you both so busy every weekend,” she added. “Guess we know now,” she giggled, throwing her arms out and twirling around. “Look at them all.”

“Well, now that you’re all here,” Karen tried to shush her in a low voice, “please try to be a little quieter and don’t disturb our other guests. We also have a class in progress in the back room, so if you have any questions you can ask our assistant Judy over there,” she added, pointing to a middle aged woman with long red hair wearing a long grey smock who appeared to be in consultation with a young couple apparently interested in buying one of the paintings. “I have to get back to the class now; sorry I can’t stay and chat.” And with that she strode back to the door from which she had originally appeared, and closed it quietly behind her.

“Wonder if the class is about painting naked ladies?” Emily whispered in Pam’s ear, giggling. “Your mom didn’t seem too happy to see us.”

“She’s probably just busy with the class,” Pam replied, with a frown on her face. “I guess maybe we shouldn’t have come, after all.”

“It’s a public gallery. We have just as much right as anyone else to be here,” Becky proclaimed. “Besides, I kinda like some of these paintings,” she smiled, now appearing to be happy she had decided to come along with them.

“Thought you wanted to stay home,” smirked her younger sister. “Changed your mind fast, didn’t you?” Nudging Emily she whispered, “Oh, see that one over there, Em?” And off they went for a closer look.

Meanwhile Sharon and I were slowly moving from one painting to another, enjoying the display more and more. “She seems quite talented, this Marilyn Ellington. Wonder how long she’s been at it, and how Maggie came to know of her work?” I mused.

“Maybe Judy can tell us. Let’s go ask her – she seems to be finished with that other couple,” Sharon suggested.

We wandered across the room and introduced ourselves. But she didn’t seem know too much about how Maggie and Karen came to discover the artist’s work, other than it was about six months ago that she first saw a few of her pastels. We would have to wait until Maggie was free after class to get further details, she told us, but she did know the show would last for another two weeks and that some of the paintings were already sold but would remain on display until the next exhibit began.

The other interesting thing we learned was that Marilyn Ellington also took bookings for custom individual or family portraits, usually nudes or partial nudes. This was a specialized area that not many artists engaged in, so she was usually kept rather busy. When we learned of this morsel of tantalizing information, Emily was within hearing range and immediately begged Sharon and me to have one done together. “And can you get one of me and Pam done, too?” she pleaded. “That would be so awesome, Mommy.”

“Hell, why not have her do all of us together?” Sharon teased.

“Oh, yeah, Mommy, let’s,” Emily squealed. “Puleese?”

“I was just kidding, sweetie,” Sharon replied. “She probably charges a fortune, hon. No way we could afford her, I’m sure.”

“Awww, well let’s ask anyway, okay?” my daughter pleaded. “We can invite her over to the hot tub, maybe,” she suggested suddenly. “She might do it for cheaper then. What do you think?”

I had to admire her for her initiative, innocent as it was, but shook my head and smiled. “Somehow I think she will need more incentive than that, sweetie. Like money, maybe?” I added. “Lots of money.”

Suddenly the door to the classroom opened once more, but this time five or six students wandered out, portfolio cases slung under their arms and backpacks hanging from their shoulders. I noticed that all were females, a couple in their late teens and the rest in their twenties and thirties. As they slowly wandered through the gallery toward the front door Emily and Pam watched them closely. “Bet they were painting nudies,” Emily whispered rather loudly as she nudged Pam. One of the students must have overheard my outspoken daughter because she turned around, unable to suppress the big grin that lit up her face.

Taking this as a ‘yes,’ Emily squealed, “I told you, didn’t I? Let’s go see if your mom’s free now, Pam.” She grabbed Pam’s hand and tugged her to the back toward the gallery classroom. But Becky had beaten them to it and was already inside when the two young girls entered. Not only that, there were a couple of other women in the room besides Maggie and Karen. One was a young girl in her late teens wearing a short, white robe and the other was a woman probably in her forties. A few easels were scattered about the room, and Maggie and Karen were in the process of cleaning up after class.

“Hi, Mom, can we help you?” Pam asked.

“No thanks, dear. We’ll only be a few minutes. Please try to stay out of the way.”

Pam then took another look at the young girl in the white robe. She was very pretty with long, straight dark hair and seemed vaguely familiar to her. Then it hit her, and she quickly ran back out into the gallery returning in a few seconds with a big smile on her face, almost bumping into Emily who was about to follow her out to see where she was going and why.

“You’re one of the girls in the paintings, aren’t you?” Pam said to the teen who was now bending over to pick up her clothes which had been piled on a chair in the corner of the classroom. Emily was smirking a little as Pam directed her question to the girl because, as she bent over, the girl’s robe had risen enough to reveal her curvy, naked butt, pussy peeking out saucily between her cheeks. She had obviously been the model for the art class that had just finished.

The older woman smiled at Pam. “You are pretty observant, young lady. Yes, she is my daughter, Jacqueline, and I use her as a model for my art quite frequently. And you must be one of Karen’s girls, I suppose?” she asked.

“That’s right,” Pam’s mother interjected. “This is Pam; and the troublemaker over there,” she added, pointing toward Becky, who was in the process of thumbing through a series of canvasses she had noticed on a table against one of the classroom walls, “is my eldest, Becky. And Pam’s friend here is Emily — well, her girlfriend, I guess you’d call her now,” she laughed.

At which point Emily hugged Pam to her and kissed her. “Yeah, she’s my honest-to-goodness girlfriend,” she giggled. “And we’re both ten. And I love her very much,” she added, giving Pam a longer, more sensual kiss on her lips as if to emphasize just how much, as the others gazed on in wonder.

Becky then turned around from going through the canvasses she’d spotted and said, “My God, you must be Marilyn Ellington then. Are you?”

“Well, another observant young lady,” the older woman replied, smiling. “Guilty as charged,” she laughed. “And I’d guess you and Jacqueline would be about the same age, right?”

“I’m sixteen,” replied Becky, looking over at the model.

“I’m a couple of years older then,” Jacqueline replied. “I turned eighteen last month. I’d better get dressed now, Mom, unless you need me for anything else?”

“It’s okay, hon,” Marilyn replied. “Nothing more for today. You can hit the bathroom and get dressed.”

“Hey!” exclaimed Emily. “We’ve all seen you naked in your pictures so why not just change here? No need to go running off to the bathroom,” she added, hoping for a real live look at the pretty girl she had seen posing in such a sexy way in some of the paintings in the gallery.

Pam giggled. “Yeah, we know you’re not shy ‘cause you were spreading your cunny in one of the pictures outside.”

“Pamela!” scolded Karen. “Don’t be so rude. It’s all for the sake of art, you know. Nothing nasty.”

“Well, she was spreading her cunt,” piped in Emily, boldly, as Pamela gasped beside her. “If that’s art, I like it,” she added, smiling at Jacqueline. “And I just saw your cunny anyway, when you were bending down over by the chair. Besides, we’re all girls here anyway. Oh, and can we pose for some of your pictures too, Mrs. Ellington? Or don’t you do girls our age?” she asked, suddenly changing the topic. “You’d love to paint Pamela’s cunny. Wait ‘til you see it.” Pam jabbed her with her elbow, but smiled. She was now used to her girlfriend’s outspoken nature. “And Becky’s is real yummy too,” Emily added as an afterthought, looking over at Pam’s sister.

Becky stuck out her tongue at Emily and then said, “Oh, she does girls your age too. I just saw some real young girls in that pile over there. They are all your paintings, aren’t they?” she asked the artist.

Maggie, who had been busy cleaning things up in the classroom, now chimed into the conversation before Marilyn could respond. “Okay, girls, I think we should let Mrs. Ellington and her daughter get cleaned up a bit. I know you’re all excited, but we can all get together with you — and your mom and her girlfriend,” she added, nodding toward Emily, “after the gallery closes. We still have some work to do here, so why don’t you all just run along for a bit. Your mommy and Sharon are still outside, so please go join them and we’ll all chat later. Go on now, shoo.” And she waved them toward the door.

Amid groans of protest, the three girls slowly left the classroom and joined the other two who were still studying the paintings in the gallery.

“So, just what did you see?” Emily asked Becky. “In that pile of paintings, I mean. Were there really young girls like us there too?” she asked eagerly.

“Yeah, even younger,” Becky whispered to Pam and Emily. “She even had close up pastels of baby’s cunnies,” she giggled. “All fat and puffy. She seemed to have done a lot of paintings of pussies, all close up.”

“Oh, wow,” squealed Emily. Really? Maybe she will want to do ours then, too,” she added, hopefully.

“You’re turning into a real exhibitionist, Emily,” teased Pam, putting her arm around her young girlfriend.

Who’s an exhibitionist now?” Sharon asked, walking up to them after overhearing Pam’s comment.

“Emily, as usual,” Pam giggled. “She wants the artist to paint her pussy.”

“I want her to paint all of us,” Emily protested. “Not just me.”

“Okay, what just happened in there?” I asked my daughter, who seemed to have been up to her usual mischief as soon as she left my sight. So the three girls explained in bits and pieces what had transpired in the classroom, overheard by Judy, who couldn’t resist listening in.

“So, you got some answers to some of your questions, I hear,” she said, as the girls filled us all in about the artist and her daughter. The gallery had emptied while the three girls were in the back room and Judy announced that closing time was in a few minutes. She left them to straighten a few paintings that had tilted a little during the afternoon viewing, then went up front to lock the door.

Susan and I were pleasantly surprised to hear that the artist herself was in the back, and had actually been helping to run the class. We were even more surprised that one of the models for Marilyn Ellington’s paintings was her own daughter, and I for one, was anxious to meet her after seeing how beautiful she looked.

“It looks like she is pretty liberal with her daughter, the way she painted that one canvas with her spreading her pussy,” I remarked to Sharon.

“Yeah, can’t wait to meet her,” Sharon laughed.

“Who, the daughter or the mother?” I teased.

“Hmmm, both,” she giggled.

And just then, as if on cue, the classroom door opened again and Karen and Maggie strolled out, followed by Marilyn and her daughter, now wearing shorts and an orange tee with a big tiger on the front, the words ‘hungry pussy’ emblazoned boldly below its open mouth.

“Love your pussy, Jacqueline,” Pam blurted out, before Emily could beat her to it.

Amid girlish giggles, introductions were made and my little girl had her turn by blurting out, in her own sweet way, that we should invite everyone back to our place for dinner.

“Before you get carried away, sweetie,” I laughed, “I think we’d better find out if they have other plans.”

It turned out that nothing pressing was on their agenda for the evening so I found myself hoping that I’d bought enough food at the market to feed everyone. Before I got much further with that thought, though, Maggie suggested we order pizza so that I didn’t have to spend a lot of time and effort getting prepared for an unplanned dinner. “It’s not fair to you, Jen and Sharon, to have to cook for this lot,” she laughed, waving her arms around at the collection of hungry females gathered in the center of the gallery floor.

“Yeah, mom, let’s have pizza and beer,” Emily squealed. “Well, you can have the beer,” she smirked. “Me and Pam can have soda, unless you’ll let us…” she didn’t finish, seeing the stern look on my face. “Didn’t think so,” she grinned, as she put her arm around Pam. “I wanted to get my girlfriend drunk so I could have my way with her,” she added, licking Pam’s ear.

“Since when do you have to get her drunk to do that?” Sharon teased. “You two are like a couple of minxes when you get going.”

And, as if to confirm my girlfriend’s accurate observation, Emily reached down between Pam’s jean-clad thighs and started rubbing her pussy, as Jacqueline and her mother looked on in amazement.

“Hey, Mom,” the teen announced. “I think you’ve just found a couple of new models.”

Karen shook her head at the wanton display, but could hardly suppress a smile. Over the past few months she’d become accustomed to her daughter’s behavior with not only Emily, but with her older sister, and she’d resigned herself to the fact that her daughters were lesbians, just like their aunt. If she was honest with herself, she would admit that even she sometimes felt a special tingle at the thought of joining in with their sexual antics.

“So you think you’d like to paint us, really?” Emily asked Marilyn, as she continued to squeeze Pamela’s pussy in front of everyone. And true to form, in the blink of an eye, my daughter quickly pulled down Pamela’s jeans and panties, revealing her girlfriend’s pussy for all to see, reminiscent of the time she’d lifted Pam’s dress in front of Sharon and me two years before in our kitchen.

This time, however, Pamela didn’t blush as Emily showed off her friend’s treasure to the artist. “Just look at her cunny,” she exclaimed, pulling firmly on Pam’s luscious, full lips and spreading them, revealing the smooth, shiny, pink head of her clit peeking out from its sheath. “Isn’t she wild? Wouldn’t that make a hot painting? And she gets so wet too, see?” she added, waving a glistening finger in front of Marilyn’s face.

I stood there stunned, but somehow not surprised at Emily’s behavior, and at Pamela’s apparent acceptance of her girlfriend showing her off this way. She had obviously become turned on during the afternoon by the gallery display and from meeting the artist and her daughter, and was now enjoying the attention Emily was paying her in front of everyone.

“She’d make a great model for your new series, Mom,” Jacqueline finally managed to say, breaking the sudden silence that had descended on the gallery as Emily continued to finger Pam’s cunny, slowly sliding it in and out, eliciting soft moans from her girlfriend. Even Judy was apparently speechless as she looked on along with everyone else.

“What new series?” I managed to ask, tearing my eyes away from Emily and Pam as I felt my own pussy begin to moisten.

“She’s started work on a group of paintings featuring the female sex organs, entitled ‘From Kitty To Cunt’,” explained Maggie. “It’s designed to show the development from infancy to womanhood.”

“So that’s what I saw in the classroom,” chimed in Becky. “You’ve already got some babies done,” she smiled at Marilyn.

“Yeah, a few,” the artist replied. “I have a couple of friends who let me use their newborns as models. And now I’m starting to work on a few older ones. One of my artist friends has two girls aged three and five, and she thinks the series is a great idea so she’s volunteered them.”

“And now you’ve got us, too,” Emily added with one final squeeze of Pamela’s cunny, before finally pulling up her girlfriend’s panties and jeans, leaving an almost disappointed look on Pam’s face.

“Us?” I asked her.

“Yeah,” she replied. “You can do me too, right? Wanna see mine?” she asked, grabbing her waistband and starting to lower it.

“No,” Marilyn giggled, stopping my daughter in midstream, so as to speak. “We can do all that later, honey. As long as your mom agrees,” she added, looking toward me. “I already know Karen won’t mind Pam modeling.”

Emily now looked at me with that pleading, irresistibly sweet face of hers, and I nodded my head, sighing. Running over to me, she hugged me tightly and reached up to pull me down for a kiss.

“Thank you, Mommy. I’ll be a great model, won’t I?”

“Yes, you will. Of course you will, baby,” I assured her.

“Becky, too?” Emily asked, turning back to Marilyn.

“If she wants to, hon,” the artist replied, smiling, turning toward the young teen, who shrugged as if to say why not, but whose dampening pussy told her she secretly loved the idea.

“Well, you’ve got your work cut out for you now, Mom,” Jacqueline said. “The pussy parade continues,” she giggled.

“Okay then, now that’s all decided, let’s go get pizza and then home,” I announced, as the plan seemed to be taking shape. “We can talk some more after we eat.”

“Yeah, in the hot tub,” screeched Emily.

“Oh my god,” Sharon exclaimed. “How’s everyone going to fit?”

“Very tightly,” Pam giggled, grabbing Emily’s hand and tugging her toward the front door.

“I’m afraid you will have to count me out, though,” Judy announced. “I hate to pass up what seems like a great party, but unfortunately I’ve made other plans.”

“Maybe next time,” Sharon consoled her as we all filed out of the door.

Looks like we are in for another interesting evening, I thought to myself, as the girls buckled themselves in and Maggie and her crew prepared to follow us in their car to the pizza place, and then to our cozy home.

Slipping the minivan into gear, I couldn’t keep the smile from my face. Sharon looked over at me, grinning. “Here we go again,” she mouthed over at me.

Here we go again indeed, I echoed to myself.

Continue on to Chapter 17

Secrets, Chapter 5

  • Posted on August 26, 2016 at 2:38 pm

By Naughty Mommy

At precisely 3:15 on Thursday, Tina came into the school office. I was ready for her. I’d told Mrs. Simmons I was taking the girl to the university library to help her with a special research project. She’d frowned, as expected, obviously thinking a registrar’s job description did not include assisting students with research — especially not pretty girls with short skirts.

And Tina was in a short skirt that day. Very short, probably well above the regulation length. I certainly didn’t mind, though.

As we got in my car, I looked down at her legs. She was wearing long black socks that came up over her knees, and shiny silver low-heeled shoes. Her little black skater skirt left her thighs bare. On top, she was wearing a gold sweater, the sleeves pushed up to her elbows.

Tina saw that I was looking at her legs, and smiled at me.

I blushed, embarrassed to be caught ogling one of our students that way, but I smiled back.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Um, well, I told that awful Mrs. Simmons I was taking you to the university library for a research project you were doing.”

Tina giggled as we pulled out of the parking lot.

“But I thought maybe we would go to the park instead. It’s a nice day and we can just walk for a bit, maybe around the lake, and talk. Okay?”

“That sounds nice,” she said.

“Oh, I should have asked you before. How much time do we have? Do you need to be anywhere soon?”

“Uh-uh, nowhere at all. We have all the time you want.”

I glanced over at her. She smiled prettily at me, and then looked at my body.

In preparation for our after-school meeting that day, I had dressed carefully in the morning. I wondered if maybe Tina had done the same, but then reminded myself that she always looked very attractive, like a model in a store window.

I was wearing a sleeveless white silk blouse over a lacy white bra from Victoria’s Secret that pushed up my breasts and gave me plenty of cleavage. As we’d walked out to the car, I had casually opened two extra buttons on the blouse, leaving it deeply slashed. I wore a pleated red skirt that fell a few inches above my knees, and sheer black nylons along with red heels, quite a bit higher than I usually wore to work.

Mrs. Simmons had, of course, given me a scathing look of disapproval as I came into the office that morning, but I didn’t care. And I noticed that when I walked through the halls that day, several of the boys were looking at me with much more interest than they usually would, and even some of the girls too. It made me think maybe I should dress provocatively like that a little more often.

I turned the corner that led into the city park and said, “I have to be home around 5:00 or so, to fix dinner for my daughter, but that gives us time for a nice long talk.”

“How old is your daughter?” Tina asked.

“She’s 8.”

“Oh. Is she the one you were talking about on the phone yesterday?”

I gulped as I pulled into a parking space. How loud had I been on the phone with Jae? How much had Tina really heard?

“Uh, well,” my cheeks were burning. “Let’s walk for a bit and we can talk about… whatever you want.”

She smiled at me. “Okay.”

We started up the path toward the lake. I was silent, but my mind was racing.

Had Tina heard enough to realize I was having sex with my 8-year-old daughter? And if she had, was she truly not shocked or disgusted by the idea, but excited by it, as she’d said? Could that really be possible?

“Are you a lesbian, Ms. Driscoll?”

“Well, um,” I cleared my throat. “Why don’t you call me Shelly — not at school, I mean, but when we’re, you know, alone together.”

“Okay. And you can call me Tina,” she giggled.

I smiled at her. I liked this girl’s sense of humor.

“So, anyway, to answer your question, I’ve never been married. When I was in high school, I dated a few boys, and I slept with one of them, and that’s when I got pregnant. I gave birth to my daughter, Kerie, the summer after I graduated.”

We continued walking. Tina was quiet, just listening.

“I’ve had sex with only two men since then, and only a couple of times. To be honest, I didn’t care for it very much. I did have one night with a woman, a while back, but that’s been my only real lesbian experience so far. Well, unless you count…”

“Your daughter?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said, in a hushed voice, “my daughter.”

We came to a secluded bench looking out over the lake. I suggested we stop there for a while.

We sat for a few minutes without speaking. I wondered what Tina was thinking about. She crossed her legs and I stared openly at her smooth thighs.

Finally, she turned to me and said, “Thank you, Ms. Driscoll — I mean, Shelly, for, I guess, for trusting me so much. That makes me feel really good. Like you respect me.”

“I do respect you, Tina. You’re a very bright girl, and you seem to be sort of, mature, about certain matters.”

She smiled. “Well, I, I try to be open-minded. About just about everything.” She swung her lower leg invitingly in front of me.

“So, apparently you heard enough, yesterday, to… to understand that I was talking about, um, about doing certain things with my daughter?”

“Uh-huh. Who were you talking to?”

That’s none of your business, I thought at first, but then I reasoned, in for a penny, in for a pound, and answered, “I was talking to my older sister, Jae. She’s a lesbian.”

“Oh. But you still never told me — are you a lesbian too?”

“Hm, well, I suppose I am. I never really thought of myself that way. But now it seems that the real me is coming out, so to speak.” I turned to her. “How about you? Are you a lesbian?”

“I don’t know,” she frowned. “I don’t really like boys, and I think girls are really pretty and soft. But I’ve never, you know, I’ve never exactly done anything with anyone yet, so I guess I’m not sure.”

“Do you masturbate?” I asked.

Tina’s eyes went wide. She blushed, but nodded, “Yeah, I, I do, I have.” The girl swallowed hard. She seemed embarrassed by the admission.

I patted her knee. “It’s perfectly normal. Most women do, and most high school girls too, probably.”

“I guess.”

“But when you masturbate,” I continued, “what do you fantasize about?”

She dropped her eyes for a moment, nervously twisting her feet. Then she said, in a quiet voice, “Well, usually about girls, you know, about kissing them and stuff.”

“Okay.”

Tina looked up again, placing a hand on my bare arm. “But you know what? Last night when I, when I played with myself, I was thinking about you.”

“Wow, that’s, I find that very flattering, Tina. I mean it. For a beautiful young girl like you to be, well, perhaps to be attracted to someone like me is, I don’t know, but it makes me feel good.” I smiled at her.

“I think you’re very attractive, Ms., um, Shelly. And not just because you’re so pretty, but also because you’re so smart and confident. And even more, because you seem to be, like, totally uninhibited about, you know, exploring your sexual desires. That makes me really attracted to you.”

I was getting very excited. I looked quickly around. There was no one nearby who might see us. I licked my lips. “Would you mind if I kissed you?”

She ducked her head, coyly, and said, “I’d like that.”

I shifted closer to her on the bench, until our knees were touching. I put my arm around her shoulder, my hand on the back of her neck. I could smell her flowery perfume. I looked into her big blue eyes, and down at her soft lips.

I drew her to me and we kissed.

The feel of her lips on mine was wonderfully warm, tender, fresh and yielding. I wrapped my arm around her, pulling her close, kissing her a second time.

She placed her hand on my arm. Then I heard her sigh as she inclined her head slightly and parted her lips for me.

I was gentle with the girl, kissing her softly, but fluttering my tongue inside her mouth, teasing. Finally I pulled away, gazing at her.

Tina was looking at my mouth. “Wow,” she said, “that was just… just like I always imagined it would be.”

“Have you ever kissed a woman before? Or a girl?”

“No, I mean, not except my mom, or my aunt. And not like that!” she laughed.

We gazed into one another’s eyes for a moment, our hands gently caressing shoulders and necks. I badly wanted to kiss her again — and do a lot more as well.

“When you…” she hesitated, then went on, “when you are, um, with your daughter, do you kiss her like that?”

“Well, uh, yes, something like that. We… we like kissing. Along with other things.”

“What kinds of things?” Tina cocked her head a little, smiling, trying to draw me out, wanting to hear all the nasty details about my illicit affair with my 8-year-old daughter.

And I wanted to tell her, too. I wanted to fill this girl’s head with all sorts of forbidden images, give her plenty of material for her nighttime masturbatory fantasies.

“Do you really want to know?” I asked, teasing.

“Yes!” She leaned in and kissed me quickly on the mouth. “I do, tell me.”

“Okay.” I settled back on the bench, ready to tell her everything.

Before I could start, Tina lifted one of her legs over my knee. She leaned back, looking at me with hooded eyes.

For a supposedly innocent girl, I thought, she is quite the seductress.

I put my hand on her bare thigh, gently caressing her smooth skin. I looked at her and thought, here I am, a 26-year-old woman, kissing and fondling a 15-year-old girl in the city park. And soon I will go home and have sex with my daughter. How my life has changed!

Then I began to tell her the story.

“Well, it started just recently, only a few weeks ago. Before then, we had, I guess, pretty much your typical mother-daughter relationship. No, that’s not right, not exactly typical, because she sleeps in the same bed with me. She always has. Ever since she was little, we’ve slept naked together.”

“Wow,” breathed Tina.

“And we, we not only slept together, but we would play little games in bed, like she would get on top of me, and kind of slide her little body around on mine.”

“I wish we were someplace private, so I could touch myself.” The young brunette was squirming on the bench, arching her back, hands gripping her upper thighs. It was clear that the small amount I had told her was already making her very aroused.

I looked at my watch. It was nearly 4:15. We didn’t have that much longer.

“Tina, I… we only have about another half hour. Less, actually, since I have to drop you off before I go home. We can talk a little more now, although maybe we should get up and walk, so it won’t look quite so scandalous if someone should come along.”

I glanced around nervously. Tina giggled.

“But I really do want to tell you more,” I said. “I want to tell you everything, anything at all that you want to know.”

Her eyes widened.

“And, as you just said, I’d also like to find someplace, well, private, so I can kiss you again, and…”

“And what?”

“And whatever else you might like.” I squeezed her thigh, then slowly slid my fingers up higher, under her skater skirt.

I could feel her trembling beneath me, but she tried to maintain her composure and keep up a flirtatious attitude. “Ooh, that sounds dangerous,” Tina smiled, licking her lips lasciviously.

“You are adorable,” I told her. “But come on, let’s walk some more.”

We got up and strolled side by side around the lake.

“When I asked you earlier what you fantasize about when you masturbate,” I said, “I was trying to see if you sometimes had fantasies about sex with boys or men, or if it was only with women, or, I don’t know, maybe both at the same time.”

“No, I, it’s only about girls. Or women. It always has been. I’ve seen a lot of — um, I mean, I have a computer in my room, and I go online and find videos of girls, you know, kissing and making love and stuff. That gets me really hot. Then I get in bed and play with myself.”

“But you said you’re still not sure if you’re a lesbian.”

She laughed. “Well, I guess you could say all the evidence points in that direction. But I don’t feel at all like, I mean, like the kind of lesbian who has to cut her hair short and wear boy clothes and things like that.”

“I suppose there are different kinds of lesbians,” I told her.

“Yeah. I mean, look at you. You’re hot. You look like a sexy woman, not, like, butch at all.”

I took her by the hand, knitting our fingers. “I’m so glad you think I’m sexy. It’s not easy for me to stay in shape, and I always think I don’t look as good as I should. My sister, though, she looks amazing. I wish I had her body.”

Tina squeezed my hand. “Shelly, I think you’re really pretty. And I love your body. Well, as much as I’ve seen of it so far.” She leaned over and playfully plucked at the front of my blouse, pulling it out so she could look inside at my breasts.

I pushed her away, laughing. “Stop that! Do you want us to get arrested or something?”

She giggled and took my arm.

We were almost back to the car.

“So, um, today is Thursday,” I said. “If you want, we can spend a little more time together after school tomorrow.”

“I’d like that.”

“But, you know, as I think about it, that’s not a very good idea. I shouldn’t take off early two days in a row, especially not with the same student. That might look suspicious.”

“Yes, we must keep up pretenses,” she said with mocking seriousness.

I patted her arm with my hand. “Silly.”

We reached the car and I opened the passenger door for her. As she lowered herself into the seat, she deliberately stretched her long legs apart, giving me a flash of black panties. I gave her a wink then closed the door.

After I got in, I said, “Do you want me to drop you back at the school? Or can I take you home?”

“Which way do you live?” she asked.

“Um, in the Cherrywood section, off Parker Boulevard.”

“Oh, well, then I’m kind of on the way. Our house is at Broad Street and 12th. Do you know where that is?”

“Sure,” I said, as I pulled out of the parking lot.

We drove a while, and then I asked, “Do you have any siblings?”

“Yeah, I have a little sister, Becky. She’s 10, almost 11, blonde and really cute. You’d like her.” She reached over and squeezed my thigh, grinning.

“Tina! What do you think I am, a pedophile?”

“Well, you like me, don’t you? And I’m underage.”

“Yes, but…”

“No, it’s okay, I’m only teasing, Shelly. Don’t get upset.”

Of course, I could hardly deny that I was attracted to very young girls, at least if my relationship with my daughter was any indication. Then there were also my feelings about Rose’s darling daughter, Emily, and even little Melissa. So, yes, I suppose the label would apply, ugly as it might be.

“Turn at the next corner,” said Tina. “Our house is the third one down, on the right.”

It was a three-story Victorian, in the Queen Anne style, beautifully restored. I was impressed.

“Wow, what a lovely home.”

“Thanks. Do you want to come in and meet my mom?”

I looked at my watch. I did have the time, but I wasn’t sure if I should.

Tina made up my mind for me.

“Come on,” she said, grabbing my hand and tugging persuasively, “she’ll like you.”

So, we got out of the car and I followed her up the steps and into the house.

Continue on to Chapter 6

Redesign for Living, Part Three

  • Posted on August 24, 2016 at 2:32 pm

By Sammy

When I got home that night, I was a wreck. Physically, from the best sex of my life, and emotionally, because my little girl was in pain, I was completely in the dark, and I couldn’t do anything about it. Robin was in the living room, watching Follow That Bird on TV.

“You haven’t watched this in years, sweetie.”

“I know. I just feel like Big Bird all blue and singing in the cage.”

My heart melted as I realized there was no way I could possibly share with her tonight what I had learned. I went over to her, pulling her into my arms as I slipped in behind her on the couch.

“Mommy’s here, baby.”

“I know, Mom. You always are.”

“And I always will be.”

We snuggled together, watching the rest of the movie, each doing a poor job of hiding our tears as Big Bird was reunited with his family on Sesame Street. I turned it off and held out my arms. “Ready for bed?”

She harrumphed softly. “Your bed.”

“What do you mean?”

“I want to sleep with you. Like I used to.”

I chuckled softly. “Guess this is a night of nostalgia.”

She smiled sexily. “Guess so.”

Not needing to be told, I scooped her up in my arms and headed to my bedroom. I dumped her a little hastily and she giggled. I stripped down to my panties, and only my panties — I guess sex emboldens me — and got into bed with her, wrapping her thin, tight frame in my arms.

“You feel so nice, baby,” I breathed on her neck, flashing back to Tegan in the dressing room.

“Mmmm. You too. So warm… and soft.”

“You doing okay?”

“Yeah. Everything melts away when I’m with you.”

We lay silently like that for a while, my pussy growing wetter and wetter as my hands kept wandering past the boundaries of where good mothers trod.

“I like the way you’re touching me.”

“Good. ‘Cause I like touching you.”

“You can touch…” I could hear her swallowing. “…underneath if you want.”

“Underneath? Underneath what, baby?” I wanted her to say it.

“Underneath my panties… touch my pussy.” Oh. I didn’t even have to prod that one out of her.

“Are you sure about this, Robin? It’s a big deal. Something we can’t come back from.”

“I’m so sure, Mom… you have no idea.” She sat up in the darkness, moonlight casting an ethereal glow on her flawless form. “I’m so glad it’s you. So happy. It’s just that” — she stumbled — “oh no, I’m ruining it…”

I grasped her shoulders. “No, don’t be silly. You’re not ruining anything. What is it, sweetie?”

“Well, I’ve heard about so many bad things happening to girls I’ve worked with, and that my first time gets to be with you is, well, it’s just so great…” She looked deep into my eyes. “It’s always been you, Mom. I know you saw my writing…about you.” She put her finger up to stop me, which made me squirt just a little. “I wanted you to find it. I wanted you to know all about me. To know what I wanted you to do to me…and to do it.”

My jaw was almost low enough to reach the cum I saw we had both leaked on the sheets.

“But, Mom… you didn’t.”

“Baby…I — I didn’t think you were ready. I wanted you so badly…”

“If I was ready then…imagine how I must feel now.”

I groaned as she rubbed herself against my leg, her sparse pubic hairs soaked in sweat and cum, and I couldn’t wait to drink it from the source. I loved her more in that moment than I ever thought possible, but the tinge for Tegan lingered…what had made her so upset? What did she know? No, I had to put it out of my mind. This night was for my baby girl. It was my dream come true, and she deserved all I could give her. So I kissed her. Softly at first, to let her get used to it, but after a few seconds I began to move gently and she did the same, our tongues coming out to meet as our hands went to each other’s bodies, mine to her slender hips and hers to my generous breasts. My nipples ached for her and she silently complied, knowing just when to pinch, just when to rub. I took her barely-there breasts in my hands and marveled at the comparatively large size of her nipples, long, thick, and pink.

Robin was the one to break our kiss, shoving me down and straddling my waist. “Enough with the emotional shit. I’m gonna fuck ya, bitch.”

We both laughed out loud, before I brought my hand up and slapped her ass.

“Ow! What was that for?!”

“I’m still your mother, young lady, and even when we’re fucking I’m to be treated with respect.” Robin looked ashamed. I couldn’t let it go on any longer. “It’s a good thing for you…” she perked up “…that I consider ‘bitch’ a term of endearment. In certain contexts.”

She fell down laughing onto my chest, going straight for my nipples. “That’s asshole jar, you know.” She always knew how to dig in!

“What?! ‘Context’ isn’t asshole.”

“Mom, in the context of having sex, with your daughter, using a word like ‘context’ is total asshole.”

“But it’s because you’re my daughter that I need to establish context.”

“Oh, shut up, bitch!” We fell into another giggle fit, but this one at least, finally, ended up with my nipples in her mouth and my hands cradling her head. As she greedily sucked on my breasts, I laughed a little too loud, again.

“What is it, Mom?”

“Oh, nothing. Just getting a little nostalgia of my own.”

It took her a second to realize what I meant, but she laughed, too, when she did. “Thinking about your baby girl sucking on your titties all over again, huh?”

“Mmm, indeed I am.”

“How long have you thought about me like this?”

“That’s another conversation.”

“‘Kay. I just wanna say I’ve always thought about you like this.”

I sighed. “Damn movies…”

She smacked my left tit — I shrieked. “No! Don’t blame them. This was all me. And now it’s… it’s all us.” She peered up at me, whispered “I love you so much,” and went back to her nursing. Before too long I was urging her downwards, and she eagerly trailed kisses down my belly, pulling my panties down and placing them over her face, taking a deep breath before tossing them over her shoulder.

“You are just full of surprises, young lady.”

“Don’t you know? I’m a prodigy, an ingénue, an IT! girl!”

“Yes, I know. I think I helped to create those little myths.”

“Oh, myths? I’m not a generational talent? Well, I bet I can prove I’m somethin’ else.”

“Oh, and what’s that?”

“A motherfucker.”

“Oh, my!”

“And you know what we can definitely agree is asshole?”

“…What?” I asked nervously.

“THIS!” — yep, then there was a finger in my asshole. Not deep nor painful but shocking. I smacked her shoulder in protest but was mollified almost immediately as she worked her finger in and out while feasting on my cunt, tugging at the strands of my bush with her teeth and tickling my clit with her nose, seeming to know just how to get me going. Her tongue went inside and deep, widening and tightening, changing shape to hit as many different spots as possible. I was writhing on the bed, grasping sheets with sweaty palms. “Oh, that feels so good… you make Mommy’s pussy feel so good…”

She moaned in approval, apparently not able to take her mouth out of my crotch for even a moment. I came then, hard, creaming all over her small perfect face and watching it pool around her chin and down to the bedspread. I lay back on the mini-mountain of pillows and tried to catch my breath. Robin snuggled in under my arm.

After a few minutes of bliss, she looked up at me.

“Ready for more?”

“Honey, I still couldn’t come again if my life depended on it.”

“No, I mean returning the favor.” She treated me to a toothy grin.

“Are you sure, Robin?”

“I’ve wanted this for so long, Mom. I’ve been ready for a while now.” She played with my nipple. “Remember, the painting…just you and me?”

How dare she bring a real tear to my eye during sex. Ugh. But I grinned through it and placed my palms on her hot thighs. “Okay, sweetie. Lie back.” She made an excited little noise and scurried to the top of the bed, spreading her thin legs wide. I took in her pussy up close for the first time in some years, getting near enough for a few of her sparse pubes to sneak up my nose. She was sticky and smelt heavenly, girl-cum and sweat. I dove in.

“Oh, Mommy, feels so good…” She whimpered, my scalp suddenly spiked with her fingernails, hands spreading through my tresses, making things feel even more primal than they already were. I decided to give her a taste of her own medicine, and let my tongue slurp slowly down to her asshole. It puckered invitingly, rim traced with her juices and mine, and I thrust my tongue in. She squirmed under my body, gripping the steel bed frame and humping my face. I gripped her back, pulling her back down hard and flipping her onto her stomach.

“Oooh!” She squealed.

“Hands and knees, young lady.”

“What’re ya gonna do, Moooommmyyyy?” She always gets silly when she’s been up for as long as she had been at that point. But something told me I wouldn’t be putting her to bed for a while yet.

“Mommy’s gonna have some fun with baby’s pussy, and maybe even more with her adorable little butthole.” She groaned in pleasure as I inserted a finger slowly into her little cunny, letting her get used to it bit by bit. She throbbed around me as I wiggled around, gentle yet insistent, feeling her insides quake in time. “Unnnhhhh,” she whimpered, her face hitting the mattress and her ass thrusting up, ripe and ready. I went harder and deeper, reaching her hymen.

“Ready, baby? This might sting.”

“Yamommy…” she barely sighed out.

I pushed past the thin barrier, feeling my fingers get wetter as my daughter let out a shriek. “Mommmmmmy!”

“Shhh, baby…” I rubbed her back in soft circles. “It’ll be better soon.”

She moaned into the mattress. “Well it’s already fucking great!

I laughed and inserted my thumb into her asshole, well-lubed. Small trickles of blood leaked out of her pussy along with dollops of cum, and I licked it all up. It was marvelous. I continued to work both digits in and out, loving how she jumped every time I tried to ‘pinch’ her between my thumb and index finger. She told me later they were all small little orgasms, though none comparing to what happened when she came just then, her mad writhing shaking the bed back and forth. I collapsed on top of her, both struggling to catch our breath, my wet cunt rubbing in-between her legs. I pushed her face into the pillow and continued to grind into her, biting into the back of her neck and creaming all over her ass as she shrieked “Mmmmmmmommy!” and left a small hole in my pillowcase with her teeth, biting and sweating.

I still haven’t swapped that pillowcase with a new one. I doubt I ever will.

After Round 2, Robin put her iPod on shuffle, shoved it in the dock, and we fucked to rhythms I had never considered. You want sex music? Listen to “Reflections” by MisterWives and imagine your daughter’s eyelids fluttering and voice breaking as you nibble her clit between your teeth.

The next morning I knew we had to talk about what to do about the pictures. I told Robin about my conversation with Tegan (definitely not about what we did… yet). She was surprised Derrick was involved, too. We each agreed to discreetly check around on set to see if anyone had heard from him recently, but had little luck by the end of the day. We were about to give up and call the police when there was a knock at the door. I opened it to see a very pretty young woman in a sharp suit. There was a badge on her lapel.

“Ms. Rose Bell?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

We shook hands. “Ms. Bell, I’m Detective Schneider with the Los Angeles Police Department. Is your daughter Robin Bell?”

“She is.”

“Ma’am, may I come in for a moment?”

. . . . .

Robin was mature and gave the detective and me some time alone.

“I’m here to let you know that we’ve arrested a man who was in possession of pornographic images of your daughter, among other young actresses. It is our understanding he may have been attempting to blackmail some of the girls, and also that you had a past association with him?”

I decided to play dumb. “Who?”

“Derrick Fulton?”

“Yes, he was my daughter’s manager years ago. We… had to let him go.”

“Well, we’re just glad we were able to stop him. He had pictures of a lot of girls. And we’re well on our way through his list of co-conspirators.” She shrugged in weary resignation. “The good thing about blackmailers is that they usually leave a pretty wide trail.”

“Thank you for letting us know, Detective Schneider.”

“Please, call me Debbie. And between us mothers, I understand why you didn’t go to the police first.” I made to interrupt, but she shushed me. “Really, it’s okay. I know the producers got this town by the shorthairs. But I’ve just been made head of a new division intended solely to prosecute Special Victims crimes in Hollywood, and it’s a post I take very seriously.”

I smiled deeply, suppressing tears as she took my hands and continued. “And I told m’self I wasn’t going to do this, but Julie’d kill me if I didn’t. She and I went to see one of your daughter’s big movies a few years ago, the one by the Eastern European fella?” I nodded. “And, well, we loved it. Bawled our darn eyes out. Especially when your little girl was on-screen at the end. The talk my daughter and I had about it afterwards was one of the best we ever had, about anything, and we now make it a habit to go to a movie we’ve never heard of, or a play by a new writer whenever we’re looking for something to do.” She looked nervous all of a sudden, like she wanted to take something back. “And I just wanted to say that, and to say thank you to your daughter.”

Well, I couldn’t hold it back after that. I started bawling myself and threw my arms around Debbie, who understood immediately. What mothers only can.

I called Robin down and Debbie shared the story with her, and three of us had a lovely conversation over iced tea and Caesar salad. We made a plan to get our girls together, the four of us, and see a movie or get lunch. Personally, I was dying to see if Debbie’s daughter had the same irresistible dimples.

By the door, before Debbie left, I couldn’t help asking her one last question. “Debbie… do you know who tipped you off?”

“Sorry, Rose. Completely anonymous. Wish I could help.”

“No problem, Deb. Bye.”

“Goodbye, girls.”

. . . . .

It turned out that after Derrick was blackballed officially in town, he used the considerable dirt he had to get himself a gig as a full-time blackmailer, which occasionally included getting others to dig up dirt for him. This was where Tegan had come in. He had enlisted her help, without her knowledge, in installing a camera in Robin’s shower, by asking her questions about protecting camera equipment from water and installing around pipes. He made it sound like it was for a line of home repair videos he was producing, which made Tegan immediately suspicious, but he gave her a generous tip afterwards and word around the set was he was to be steer-cleared from as much as possible. So she decided not to rattle things.

But before long, he had even Tegan under his thumb, having somehow snaked compromising pictures of her, and said he’d release them unless she kept it up. She thankfully didn’t have to do much besides take pictures, until once when Derrick had her do so before a party he was having, the models a line of young teenage girls in expensive dresses. After the last set, Derrick had asked her to stay for a drink. She refused, and when he tried to coax her inside physically, she ran.

After that, and refusing to attend any more of Derrick’s parties, Tegan had been blackballed herself for any kind of acting gigs and was relegated to low-level PA jobs on which she’d do against her will what she had done freely and with delight for me, the only occasionally consensual photos of young starlets in turn used as more leverage against her, should she ever get an urge to talk.

The three of us had a very tough conversation during which Tegan confessed, in tears, her initially ignorant role, accidentally letting slip that with Derrick’s network of sleazeballs mostly behind bars, she was effectively homeless. We didn’t hesitate before inviting her to move in with us — we had more than enough space than we knew what to do with, and we knew what she did was under extreme duress. She had also turned state’s evidence, and was doing her part to make sure anyone who hurt her wouldn’t hurt anyone else again. And besides, she, Robin, and I still had way too much fun to have.

We all told Danny together, about everything. He was remarkably accepting of our new… relationship, and, as I’m sure only I could tell, more than a little turned on. Which turned me on just a smidge, too.

. . . . .

It was a few years later that I next saw Erik, at one of his regular haunts after a festival gala in Toronto. He beamed when he saw me and cleared out his booth, which had been occupied by a few adoring film students as they all watched something on Turner Classic Movies, with a different muted title on each screen in the bar.

“How have you been?”

“Great, Erik! You? I saw your last movie. Mid-tier, but a hell of an ending.”

“I know, I know. I bought the script for the ending, but half of the rest was shit, and he wouldn’t let me change a word. Smart writers and good lawyers! The death of me!”

We each ordered a drink and he continued gregariously. “What about Robin? I heard about that terrible mess.”

“Yes, but she’s been wonderful. And we actually got a new houseguest out of it. Or family member, really. Another victim of that scumbag’s.”

“Ah, yes. Mr. Ful-ton. Did they ever find out who dropped the, how you say, dime?”

I was about to answer his question in earnest before I saw the glint in his eye. “Erik? No…

“The son of a bitch tried to get me in on it. Offered me a piece! Thought I’d want to stick it to the pretty American. What a schmuck.”

“I can’t believe you did that… thank you so much, Erik. We’ll never forget it. I know it must have been tempting, that kind of publicity…”

“Oh Rosie, I am insulted. You should know by now I’m no villain. I only base them on myself in the movies.” We shared a deep laugh.

“Well, while we’re on the subject… Robin’s been finishing up her first solo script and she’s too shy to ask, but… she has eyes on you for the male lead.”

“Oh?” Erik’s lips broadened. “And who is this fellow, whom I assume is a magnetic and transformative figure?”

“A Soviet-era gymnastics instructor who secretly trains an American teenager for the Olympics.” He made to interrupt me. “I know, I know, a sports movie, but Robin wanted to try making something great out of an awkward frame. The materials are top-notch, though — it is a great script, Erik.”

“If any young director could do it, I am sure it is Robin. And greatness is not without precedent in this arena… The Hustler, Huston with Fat City, and Warrior is actually tremendous, the last time Nick — Nolte, you know — and I were here, some drunk co-ed who had just seen it asked him about his Moby-Dick, and Nicky said to her —”

“All right, all right, enough with the goddamn name-dropping already, you’re not on Conan.”

“Oh, that reminds me! I have to call Conan, I left my reading glasses on Miss Julie, that’s his boat, you see, an Ibsen reference, who else but Conan —”

He laughed as I hurled my glass at him, already well on my way to the bar for a fresh one. The employees don’t mind. He’s broken about nine there himself to date, and always leaves a $500 tip when he does.

Two weeks later, he called Robin personally and accepted the part.

Danny said he’s getting tired of comedy, and was thinking of maybe writing a novel about this whole thing. Though, he’s not sure if he’ll be able to extend it to that kind of length. He’s been thinking he might try it out as a short story first, credited to a pseudonym. Something that kinda sounds like his name, but isn’t.

As for Robin, she’s about halfway through production on The Red and the Gold (an irrelevant nod to Stendhal — made her put $100 in the asshole jar for that one). She’s come home anxious and tearful after several nights, though mostly from exhaustion. Her new sister and I are always here to meet her at the door, slowly undress her as we make our way to the bedroom, most often stained khakis, sweaty undershirts, juicy panties saved for last right before we sink into the Jacuzzi and rinse the day’s events off of each other, though one of us is usually a bit more dirty. Tegan often gloats about getting to be home so much earlier than Robin to get to Mommy’s pussy — she has a strong supporting role in the film, and gets to clock off while Robin has to stay and look at dailies and talk with the crew.

I’ll never forget our first time together, the three of us, some weeks after Tegan had moved in. It had been awkward at first, everything awful still fresh in our minds, but as you might have expected, it was Robin who made it happen for real. One autumn afternoon, fresh out of the shower, she strolled towel-only into the living room where Tegan and I were reading on each end of the sectional. Right to the same spot I had so often used as, well, a cum-dump. While thinking of her. She put a leg up, making a show of fudging with a nail on her toe, then suddenly bending forward into the cushion and shaking off her towel, slowly, deliberately. Tegan and I shared a look over Robin’s raised, still-damp ass, and we knew instantly what was happening. We three came together there, in the middle, awkwardly at first, confidently soon after, Tegan and I quickly as naked as my daughter, each half-carrying her, the three of us swapping sloppy kisses as we made our way to my bedroom. Tegan wanted to watch mother and daughter first, rubbing herself as Robin made a show of going down on me, whimpering into my bush like her tongue was coating it for the very first time. It was contagious — I pulled her into me roughly, Tegan’s fingers tweaking my nipple as Robin moved effortlessly, everywhere, exploring wherever Tegan might have wanted to see. Which was everywhere, of course.

Then, as a final homecoming gift, I decided to give Tegan my daughter’s anal virginity. She retrieved her own strap-on, and I made sure my daughter’s ass was slick as slick could be, with juices that, by that point, were comprised of all three of us, from multiple holes at that. Tegan was gentle at first, easing in as my daughter nestled in between my breasts, my hands spreading her cheeks as wide as possible for the thick rubber cock. Robin was soon urging her on, begging “Harder!” to Tegan’s eager thrusts, teeth eventually piercing my areola as she came, wetting the sheets.

We continued into the early hours of the morning, making this first time, more than anything, a permanent etching of all of our bodies into one another’s, in every combination, paced variously for mood and energy. I mean, we wear each other out, but we’re all insatiable. And by now, as far as everyone, including Danny, is concerned, Robin’s blood.

The three of us have had many long conversations about what happened, how we all came together like this, what each of us did, what was okay, what wasn’t. That the same things had been done to the same people by other very bad people who were now in jail renewed all of our belief in the power of consent, even if it made everyone feel a little less than pure. But purging that is why we have art, isn’t it?

I have to wrap it up soon. They’ve just finished shooting the climactic scene between the young gymnast and her coach. Robin says she’s happy with the day’s footage, but I have a feeling the set-ups will be identical tomorrow morning. It’s strange — no one seems to mind doing ninety strenuous takes for a director as long as she has tits and keeps them in scandalous tank tops to go along with her booty shorts. (What can I say? Directing gets her hot.) Rumor has it Daniel Day-Lewis’s agent was on set today, having a look from the nosebleeds. Robin met the handsome Englishman at the same Oscars she first won hers, and she told him he simply had to be in one of her movies once she became a director, because of course that’s what she was going to do. He smiled politely and told her to call him when she had something solid. Robin doesn’t have any new material that I know of, but then, I also know that she never stops working.

Right now, I’m looking at her and Erik, together on the office couch, going through the dailies. They’re laughing, and his head is in her lap, his gray kinks straightening and kinking right back out again. I’m tempted to take out my phone and sneak a stolen moment when they’re not looking, but I manage to control myself.

Some things should be kept off-camera.

THE END