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Honey Loves – Confessions of an Incestuous Mother, Chapter 5

  • Posted on October 2, 2016 at 11:26 am

By eloquent delinquent

I suppose that’s how it’s been, a long seduction, a gradual giving in from my maternal instincts to more primal ones, ever since we started together. After two glorious springtime months on the changing table, with me pleasing her nearly every day, we decided she was a big enough girl to switch to regular panties. I guess I realized that she hadn’t needed them even before we started our sexual play, and it seemed self-serving and wrong for me to hold her back just to satisfy my perverted desires.

So, no more changes, no more changing table, no more naughty touches… and I thought that would be it for our little erotic interlude as mother and daughter. For months it was, and except for some awkward looks at bath time, everything was perfectly chaste between us. I told myself I was relieved, that this was more normal and healthy. Maybe Bianca wouldn’t even remember what had happened between us when she got a bit older.

But I certainly couldn’t forget. She started pre-school that September, and while she was out I engaged in elaborate masturbation sessions, reliving the feel and taste of her body, her response, her noises when I made her cum. And as I lay there, nude and pumping, I took refuge in the fact that it was all just fantasy any more, all that was in the past, like all my other sweet, unspeakably naughty memories. So why not fuck and fuck myself to it?

Then one day after I brought her home, she wandered restlessly around the apartment like she was looking for something. I tried to help, “Everything all right, honey?”

Her eyebrow arched at the word ‘honey’ in a way I wasn’t used to. She fidgeted for a minute, then started, “In the bathroom at school, somethin’ happened…”

I sat up straight, “Oh gosh, Bon-Bon, did you have an accident?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“What happened?”

She nervously looked around, “I don’t wanna make anyone in trouble…”

“Come here,” I beckoned, and she sheepishly made her way to the couch and stood by my knee. I stroked her hair and comforted, “I don’t think anyone’s going to be in trouble, sweetie. Just tell Momma what happened, okay?”

Taking a deep breath, Bianca said, “Well… I went to the bathroom and then Anna came in right after. And she came into my stall, and she… she watched me go peepee. She closed the door and stood right there and watched me go. And after I got done she took her panties down to her shoes and pulled her dress way up and showed me what she looked like with no clothes on.”

I gasped.

“And then Anna said take your hands away, let me see, and then even though my panties were all the way down I did it. And then she told me to get up and pull up my dress, way up like her, up to here,” she indicated her throat, “and I did that, too. And then we looked at each other, like we had no clothes on, and we kind of turned around for each other so we could see everything.”

“What then?”

“She told me I was pretty, then she hugged me with her dress up, and we kissed. And then she put her clothes back and went back to class and then I did too.”

My mind spun. “Did anybody else see?”

Bianca shook her head. “Miss Dormer said ‘What took you girls?’ but that was all.”

I took a breath, tried to clear my head, as it’d gone almost drowsy with heat. “Well, first off, nobody’s in trouble. Some kids are curious about their bodies, and other people’s bodies, and they want to see. Did it scare you?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Did you like it?”

She shrugged, licked her lips nervously. “I dunno.”

Rubbing her arm, I told her, “It’s natural to be curious. It’s okay. When I was little like you, I wanted to look at other little girls with no clothes on.”

“For real?” She blushed brightly. “Did you?”

I nodded. “We kept it secret, and you should too, but there’s nothing bad about it.”

I could see the relief wash over Bianca, so I asked again, “How do you feel about it, honey?”

“Anna’s so pretty,” she confessed in a rush. “She’s all peachy, not pale like me. And I like her long yellow hair. And her nips are pink, like her weewee. I never saw another girl’s weewee before. And her bottom is so pretty too. It made me all tingly, like the way she looked at me made me tingly.”

“The way she looked at you?”

“Yeah, I could barely breathe. It made me wanna be like that for her, and… and, you know, show off.”

“Sounds like fun,” I said. My hand was stroking her back now, and without realizing it, I’d started to pass over her pert butt with each caress. My heart was pounding, I could feel my pulse in my cunt. I’d told myself all these incestuous feelings were over, I made myself be okay with it. But now it wasn’t a fantasy, and I was conflicted. I couldn’t help but picture Bianca and her little friend in the stall together, couldn’t help being reminded of my own exciting, secret experiences as a girl.

Part of my mind just kept repeating, Shouldn’t, shouldn’t, shouldn’t… But I knew myself, and oh fuck, I wanted to have her again so bad.

“Momma?” she asked, and I nodded encouragingly. “I know I’m a big girl now, but… sometimes I still want the puffies.”

‘Puffies’ was her word for her training pants. My skin flushed at what that might mean, but I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, so I asked, “What for?”

“When I wore puffies I could push ‘em down and rub it down there and get happy when I wanted. And sometimes you changed me, and you rubbed me too, or sometimes gave me special kisses. And when you did I got those big honey feelings, and the honey loves felt so good, and now I’m big and we don’t do that anymore.” She looked at me sidelong, eyes wide and searching.

“Did seeing Anna with her clothes off make you think of the things you do between your legs?”

She nodded, slow and solemn. “When I was waiting for you to come with the car, I hid in the bushes and rubbed my weewee and my bibi down my panties, ’cause I was so tingly. But I knew I was a big girl, and shouldn’t do little girl stuff. So I didn’t get the honey and now I’m still tingly and I can’t stop thinkin’ of Anna and her looking at me.”

My heart went out to her. Poor little Bon-Bon, all turned on by her pretty school mate, knowing what her body wants and unable to allow herself to get it.

“I could look at you like Anna,” I blurted, the idea seizing control without my having thought about it.

“How?”

My cheeks felt very warm. “Lift up your dress for me, like you did for her.” Bianca stared at me, unmoving. So I decided to act like her little friend, too. “Come on, pull it up and let me see.”

Confused, she bent slightly, took her hem, and drew her simple dress up to her chin, exposing herself to me, her taut round tummy and cute brown nipples and little white panties with lemons on them. My hand came to rest on the curve of her bare little back. I think my mouth hung open slightly. She regarded me intensely, anticipating.

I scowled slightly, and said in my story-book voice, “Something’s still not right.” Bianca’s eyes questioned, desperately afraid of doing something wrong. I let my hand slip down her back to her plump panty-clad butt, and told her, “It’s these, these weren’t here when Anna looked at you, were they?”

She looked down at her panties and shook her head as I smoothed both hands all over the material, her ass, her little narrow hips, the swell of her mound. Her gusset was very damp, and I felt almost bad for the way I teased her, but I couldn’t seem to help it.

“Where were they?” I asked.

“Down. Down by my shoes.”

I hooked my fingers around the fabric on both hips and skimmed them down to her ankles, hearing her gasp. Then I sat back on the couch and simply admired her, so vulnerable, so excited, so naturally sexual. “I think you’re prettier than Anna.”

Bianca giggled giddily, flattered.

“So, do you wanna rub your little bonbon, like you said?” I asked her.

She looked stunned.

“You can do it, if you want. As long as we’re alone at home, it’s okay, it’s natural, just like wanting to look. If it feels good to rub your weewee or your bibi, you don’t have to stop just because you’re a big girl.” I gulped. “Momma can watch you touching, if you want.”

My daughter trembled. She still held her dress to her chin. “Would you do it, Momma? I wanna have the honey loves, and you make it so nice. You can do your hand or your mouth, I just want it. I want honey, Momma.”

I felt compelled by my little girl’s desire, powerless to resist and not wanting to. My hands reached out, one snaking around her waist, the other resting on her tummy. I grinned affectionately, then smoothed up her silky flesh to her chest and throat, while behind I brushed and squeezed her plump butt, my fingertips playing up and down her crack. I felt her heart thumping, the deep rise and fall of her breath.

I bent forward, looked into her wide, wild eyes as I brought my lips to hers, parting them slightly, and kissed her. I lingered, giving kiss after slow kiss while my hands slid all over her plush little body. Eventually, she picked up on the rhythm of it, her mouth opening with mine, but I didn’t dare to slip my tongue into her mouth. Not then, anyway.

As our kisses became more sensual, I let my hands wander more knowingly, and she made surprised squeaks as she felt my fingers rest gently on her tiny, delectable pussy and asshole. Both spots were steamy and slick; she’d been excited for a while. When I began to rub, her knees wobbled and Bianca made an adorable sigh of surrender into my mouth.

And there I sat on the sofa in my living room, with my daughter holding her dress up and letting her sweet momma masturbate her, both my hands busy between her legs, one in front, one in back. It was so fun, the way her kisses got more sloppy and fervent as she got more stimulated. Her hips rocked back and forth, as she tried to get more feeling from one tender orifice, then the other. And when she quickly found her beautiful little orgasm, she yipped and shuddered and then practically went limp, breaking our drooling kiss, her head resting on my shoulder, quick breaths hot on my neck. Only my fingertips pressed into her creamy, pleasured little holes were holding her up.

When she returned to herself, she gave me the brightest, most loving smile I can ever remember seeing. My own smile blossomed in response.

“I love you, honey,” I murmured, and she nuzzled my neck and chuckled, finally letting the dress drop, the hem gathering at my cradling wrists.

“Love you too, Momma,” she purred. “I missed the honey loves so much. I was afraid you wouldn’t give ‘em to me anymore ’cause I was too big.”

“Oh, Bon-Bon,” I replied, welling up, and drew her into a tight hug.

When she drew back, she looked at me curiously and asked, “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?” I replied. I’d meant everything I’d done.

“That it can be like before? I can pull down my panties and have happy touches when I want? That you’ll give me more honey loves?”

There was that phrase again. I couldn’t tell if she was referring to her orgasm, or just the sexual fondling I gave her. Maybe she didn’t even differentiate. I didn’t mind; I just loved that the sensation was so important to her that she’d given it a name.

“If you want,” I said. “This is your home, and this is your body, and if you want to touch between your legs to feel happy, you can. I want my girl to be happy, Bon-Bon.”

Her eyes sparkled with delight at my answer. And after a second to think about what I’d told her, she asked, “Can you use your mouth next time?”

I did. And the next time after that, I fingered her during her bath. And the time after that, I slipped my tongue into her mouth while I diddled her. She let out a cry of muffled delight, held my cheeks, and started ardently slithering her little nimble tongue over mine, and I deliriously wondered why I’d hesitated before. And on it went from there, as days turned to weeks turned to months and my wonderful daughter rediscovered her naughty joys.

Bianca had rhythms and patterns to her sexuality, the same as anyone. It’s hard to imagine anyone, at any age, abandoning erotic pleasure once they’ve experienced it. It’s instinctive, your body hungers for it. The way I saw things, my daughter and I were both blessed with the gift of carnal desire, and I was unwilling to repress her.

She wanted to masturbate alone about as often as she wanted me to be with her. And as much as I loved the naughty play time we shared, as much as I craved her little body, I always let her initiate. This was about my daughter’s sexual development more than mine. I wasn’t going to make a four year old responsible for my satisfaction.

In our new situation, I took care of myself in private, following my own frequent urges, and always, always after I played with her. I didn’t want to make my little girl have to deal with her Momma’s masturbation habits. At least, not until she made it clear that she wanted to. She’s marvelously curious like that.

One icy January afternoon, as I unraveled her from her from her winter bundling, she asked, “Am I naughty?”

Carefully keeping my composure, I found out the reason for her question. Bianca had been feeling ‘tingly’ at school, so she found a quiet comfy place during snack time and did what came naturally to her. Another student spotted her, told the teacher, and soon she was sitting before Miss Dormer, who told her that what she’d done was naughty, and that she shouldn’t do naughty things in class, or she might not be allowed to come back. This left my four year old very distressed.

So I explained as best as I could that naughty wasn’t the same as bad. Some naughty things were actually really fun, but if she did them at the wrong time, she could make people upset or uncomfortable. This brought me to the concept of private times, and how it was important that she not let anyone else see her when she made herself happy between her legs.

“Anyone but you,” she said with a cheeky grin. I smiled helplessly.

Private time took some practice. Eventually I had a couple of embarrassing meetings with Miss Dormer, who made it clear that Bianca was normal and far from alone in her precocious behavior, even in her class. But she hoped I could help my daughter understand that she needed to follow rules, and that some things shouldn’t be done in public. I felt lucky, she was so compassionate and understanding.

But it was easier said than done. A few times the following spring, I had to go over to my daughter when we were out at the park, especially when she watched girls playing on the jungle gym. I’d position myself to block her from the view of the other mothers, crouch down, and cover her straying hand with my own, saying, “You should save this for private time, okay, honey?”

Bianca would immediately stop, looking surprised at herself, but when we got home she would invariably want honey loves. I was delighted to provide them, because I knew the waiting would made her especially horny and very responsive. She would go and go until I made her cum twice, with only a brief ticklish pause in between eager demands for her Momma’s loving touch.

There’s something to be said for positive reinforcement, especially when the reward is an orgasm.

Besides, she was getting older and better able to control herself. She turned five that summer, and by the time she reached kindergarten, there were no more issues.

I still had some sleepless nights, worried that my daughter would out us and our forbidden relationship, with just a mistaken word, an emotional blurt. I tried to imagine the repercussions of being found out, but it was so terrible I couldn’t manage. But I suspect she understood the secrecy of what we did, the need for it, without me having to explain it overmuch. What we did to her body together was just as private as what she did alone. As the weeks became months became a year with no signs of trouble, things that once seemed troubling and taboo just came to feel natural. And as I gently taught her and curbed her behavior, she gradually broke down my own inhibitions, one after another. Bianca brought such innocent playfulness to her desires, it was pointless to resist for too long.

Continue on to Chapter 6