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Mother and Daughter

  • Posted on October 17, 2016 at 2:06 pm

By hornykate

{ This story was originally posted at Lesbian Lolita in July 2012 }

My fascination with my daughter Jenny’s panties started two years ago. She was eight, and in those days I’d regularly get a pair of her panties from the wash basket and take them to bed, and there I’d smell, lick and suck on the gusset until I quietly but intensely orgasmed. Sometimes after I came, I’d inch them into my cunt and fall asleep with them partially inside me. Once I actually worked them into my anus (but only once!).

I think I may have been developing an obsession (!), and for two years I’d been thinking of how to move things on without putting the fear of God into her. After all, she’s my daughter and I love her with all my heart. But, maybe irrationally, I didn’t want Jenny to learn about sex at the hands of some young spotty adolescent who wouldn’t appreciate my little girl as he manhandled her secret parts.

And then one night, something happened.

I’d gone to bed  with a pair of Jenny’s panties, as normal. I’d chosen a particularly cute pair, always turned me on more.

I’d hardly started with my routine when the door slowly opened and in came little Jenny. There was no reason for her to come to me. It’d happened before in times of stress; thunderstorms, bad dreams, the usual. But tonight? All was calm, as was she. And there she was, in my bed, in her little makeshift pyjama set — a sky blue T-shirt with matching loose-fitting shorts.

I asked if she was okay, and she whispered “yes,” then after awhile she was asleep.

I felt I was in new territory. I was in new territory. I couldn’t very well start masturbating with Jenny’s panties while she was so close to me… but I was feeling so horny.

I spoke to her again, no response. I put my hand on her leg and gently shook it, no response.

I kept my hand on her leg, just above the knee. She had quite thin legs, typically gangly, on the verge of filling out and becoming womanly. I stroked her leg in a motherly fashion (I told myself) but my touches were increasing in proportion to my heart rate.

Her legs were already slightly parted, but then they eased open slightly more. Was she asleep? This was so risky.

I softly whispered her name again. Nothing.

I was now stroking the inside of her left thigh, the one nearest to me, slowly moving my hand higher, to what end I hadn’t figured out. Where was I going? What was I doing? Then the magical moment when my fingers slipped beneath her shorts and I felt the wisps of soft pubic hair. When did I last see her naked? Why was I surprised that she had pubes? It was like stroking a peach.

By this point I’d eased her left leg over my right. I felt like I was falling down a ravine as my fingers gently touched her virgin cunt. And there was my second surprise. She was wet. She felt wet and open. I softly, gently continued my caressing, amazed at my own temerity, at my willingness to seduce my own daughter.

“Mummy?”

I froze. I stopped. Stock still. Like a statue. The only part of me that continued moving was my thumping heart.

“That feels nice, Mummy.”

I didn’t feel any sense of relief at her words. I think I was still in shock.

“Don’t stop, Mummy, please.”

Had she been awake all this time? It didn’t really matter, she was clearly awake now.

“Baby,” I said, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be doing this.”

But I still hadn’t moved my hand. And then I felt Jenny’s hand on mine.

“Don’t stop,” she said again.

So I carried on stroking her wet little cunt. Her arms came above the bedclothes and pushed them down, until we were completely uncovered. I’d moved my hand so I was inside her shorts from the top, this felt more comfortable. I was cupping her little sex while my middle finger was caressing her clit. Her breathing deepened, as did mine.

I had to talk, we couldn’t continue this in silence. I had a feeling that if we carried on in silence, then went to sleep in silence, we’d wake up in silence.

“Are you okay, baby?” I asked.

“Yes, it feels wonderful,” Jenny said.

“Don’t worry, Mummy,” she continued, as if she was reading my mind. “this is our secret.”

My finger was now inside her cunt. Her whole sex was so wet, I almost couldn’t believe it.

“I want to taste you,” I whispered, “I want to lick you, would you like that?” She just nodded.

“Tell me.” I said. “Tell me you want me to taste you.”

“I want you to taste me, Mummy, I want you to lick me.”

She was lying on her back, I eased her T-shirt up to reveal her little tits. They were small but evident but as she lay back, they were as flat as a two year old’s. I licked her nipples, and kissed down her stomach.

“I want you so much,” I told her as I moved even lower down her body. “Are you sure about this?” I asked.

“Surer than anything,” she said and I metaphorically leaped into the ravine as I put my head between her legs.

I kissed her on her inner thighs, tracing the hard sinews that joined her thighs to her pelvis, and I was shaking as I took the first taste of my beautiful daughter. She spread her legs as wide as she could and a whole world of possibilities opened up before us.

*****

We woke in the morning, not to silence but to smiles and a hug. I’d gone down on my ten year old daughter and made her come twice. The thought made me wet.

I pulled her to me and wrapped my arms around her little body and we held each other. Her pyjamas had disappeared in the night, and we lay naked in each other’s arms.

I eventually went for a shower, and then downstairs to make breakfast. There were still chores to do. She was off to school, though I’d decided to skip work. I would’ve been useless anyway.

It was when she came into the kitchen that the reality of what we’d done really hit home, for she was in her school uniform and she looked, once again, like my ten year old daughter. Just a little girl.

She seemed fine, but I was fast becoming a mess. I held it together til she’d gone (a friend’s mother came to pick her up) but once I was alone, I cried. It wasn’t a cry of despair, or sorrow, or even happinness. I don’t know why I cried, I just did. It was as though I’d hit my mental funny bone, and I didn’t know whether to laugh OR cry.

I got through the day, but as the time went on I became increasingly anxious. Would Jenny be okay when she got home? Would she be thinking about me? About our night together?

Eventually the door opened and closed. Jenny walked into the living room where I sat, tense as a carriage spring. And she came and knelt in front of me. We looked at each other, just gazing into each other’s eyes.

“Is everything okay, baby?” I asked, in what sounded like a hoarse whisper.

“Everything’s wonderful Mummy.” A slight pause. “Isn’t it?”

Then I did what I should’ve done last night, but surprisingly didn’t. I kissed her. Imagine a hot summer’s day when the heat makes everything seem silent and still, and you see a butterfly alight on a flower. That’s how delicate our first kiss was.

“My heart’s beating so fast,” I whispered between kisses.

“So’s mine,” she whispered back.

So I put my hand on her little chest and felt her heart through her school blouse, then kissed her more deeply. I opened my mouth and she did the same and then we were kissing like lovers. Our tongues touched, nervously, like debutantes at the first dance. I’d stopped feeling her heart now, but was instead stroking her breasts, her small, beautifully formed breasts. I could feel the fabric of the training bra we’d only recently bought. My mouth left hers and I began kissing her cheek, her neck, then I was kissing and licking her ear and she was literally panting. I whispered her name in her ear. I kept saying it.

“Oh Jenny, Jenny, Jenny. I want you so much, baby. I’ve been thinking about this for so long.”

“How long, Mummy?” All this was in soft tones.

“Dont hate me for this baby, but since you were eight, I’ve wanted you.”

“Oh, Mummy. I want you, too.” While we’d been kissing, Jenny’s hands had been resting on my knees, and she now slowly began easing my skirt up my legs. Then I felt her right hand stroking my thigh, higher and higher, til she was caressing my inner thigh.

“Touch me.” I whispered, and she did. Her fingers began stroking my cunt through my panties, which were soaked.

“You’re wet, Mummy.”

“It’s how you make me feel, baby.”

She moved her head to whisper into my ear, “I’m wet too, Mummy. And that’s how you make me feel.”

We kissed again, both of us moaning and whimpering into each other’s mouths. I slid my hand beneath her short pleated skirt and, with little ceremony, into her little panties. And she was wet. I slid a finger inside her and I could feel on my hand that the insides of Jenny’s thighs were slippery with her juices.

She had by now worked her way around the front of my knickers and had a finger in my cunt, sliding it in and out.

“Taste me.” I said, “put your finger in your mouth and taste me.”

And she did. Then she did it again, and again.

“I like how you taste, Mummy,” she said.

We kissed again, tongues meeting. I wanted to drink her saliva, I wanted to taste her cunt, I wanted to drink her piss, I wanted everything. I wanted to devour her, completely, I felt so boundlessly in love with her.

That afternoon on the sofa in the living room, we did taste each other. I went down on her, and, at her insistence, she went down on me. It’s a sin, I know. It’s wrong, I know. But looking down at my ten year old daughter, head between my open legs, as she licked my cunt, it wasn’t a sin. It wasn’t wrong. It was the most right thing in the world. I didn’t want to dominate her life, I didn’t want to abuse her. I wanted to teach her. I wanted to love her. I wanted us to love each other. And we do. We feel complete.

And I still take her panties to bed.

The End