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I Was the Daughter of a Porn Star, Chapter 88

  • Posted on May 18, 2017 at 4:06 pm

The Circle of Abundant Happiness

By Cheryl Taggert 

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

Time passed, as it always does, and we settled into our own routine. Mom let Lisa and me move in with each other. We rented an apartment near the university and started making a life for ourselves. We were happy, blissful even. We would invite others for sleepovers. My mom and Cindy, Aunt Emmy and Danni, Jenna, the twins, Rachel, even Lisa’s mom, Donna. Occasionally, Marie or Deanna would drop by and we would renew the wonderful lives we had shared. There were even times Lisa and I stayed in one of the many hotels in Hollywood for a night to enjoy some fun and games with one of the girls who worked there.

We got our undergraduate degrees, and I started graduate school. I was still working on my former project, the interviews with girls who had started their sex lives early, which eventually became my Master’s Thesis and later, in an expanded form, my Doctoral Dissertation. I ended up publishing it, of course, and it became required reading in quite a few colleges and universities for people studying child psychology, including my alma mater, UCLA. I always felt its popularity was mostly due to the fact that it offered a different conclusion than most people had about children who had experienced early sexual experimentation, even with adults.

The FBI even hounded me after publication to try to get the names of some of the people who had been what they called “victims of child abuse.” I ended up going to court to defend my right to maintain my subjects’ privacy, as I’d said I would when conducting my research. I explained my findings, and the judge agreed that since the so-called victims didn’t see themselves as such, it wasn’t the job of the FBI to try to convince them that they were. He had the view that if they weren’t damaged psychologically, why do something that might cause them damage? I had interviewed plenty of girls who had suffered guilt after being discovered and their insistence that the pain and shame were a manifestation of society’s finger-pointing, not the acts themselves. I also made sure I interviewed girls who had been forced into sex, and the pain from the experiences were not from society’s reactions but the fact that their participation was forced, not a mutual decision. In those cases, however, the rapists and molesters had been tried already, or the victims chose not to pursue legal punishment for their tormentors, so the FBI was not interested in those cases.

When I had earned my Master’s in Child Psychology, I started working with the local school system as my first job and quickly earned a reputation for being able to help girls whom many had considered incorrigible become happier, more productive people. I never shared my secret to my success. I was certain nobody would ever understand — unless they were like me, and there was no way of telling that.

Two years later, when Lisa and I were both 26, I opened my own practice counseling young girls. I limited my practice to girls only, ages seven to seventeen.  I also finished my PhD. I was now Doctor Taylor. The following year, we bought a house together not far from the campus where we had met.

Both our lives changed drastically, however, when the county brought me five-year-old Paulette. She was two years younger than the youngest girls I normally took on, but Jerri, a female social worker I knew from CPS, or Child Protection Services, called and begged me to work with the girl.

Her mother had died of a drug overdose, and nobody knew who her father was. On the birth certificate there was no name for father, meaning he probably didn’t even know the woman he had fucked had gotten pregnant. Hell, he may not even remember having sex if he had been too stoned at the time. There had never been any efforts to find him.

So little Paulette was an orphan, completely without family since her mother had had no living relatives anyone could find.

And she was more beautiful than any little girl I’d ever met.

She had the looks of a child movie star. I had always considered the young actress who’d portrayed Hermione in the Harry Potter movies to be gorgeous, but that girl had nothing on Paulette.

Her black hair hung in waves down her back and over her shoulders. Her dark brown eyes seemed to stare into my soul when she favored me with a glance. Her gorgeous mouth was naturally red with surprisingly white teeth for a girl who’d been mostly neglected. The only way to describe her skin was alabaster. Of course, she wasn’t all that clean when I first met her, but I could see the striking beauty beneath the layered dirt. Also, her clothes did not fit the rest of her. I don’t mean they were too big or too small. I mean they were too drab, barely more than rags.

When I first met her, she sat in my office for nearly thirty minutes in total silence. She just sat there taking in the various decorations that spotted my office walls — colorful paintings by some of the girls I’d worked with mostly.

Jerri, the social worker from CPS, told me the little girl’s story, and my heart went out to her immediately. Her mom had been a drug addict all the child’s life, and while she’d tried to make a life for herself and her daughter, the lure of drugs always got in the way. She had sold her daughter to men by the hour to get money for drugs, or in direct exchange for the poison she needed.

“Cheryl,” Jerri concluded, “the biggest problem I have is I don’t want to put her in juvee,” meaning juvenile hall, a place with beds and food but little else. “What I really need is a place where she can stay. Somewhere she can be safe and try to attempt a life that at least borders on normal.”

Jerri was looking at me, her brow arched with suggestions and dire requests.

“You want me to bring her home?” I said, Jerri’s meaning finally dawning on me.

“Only for a few days until I can find a suitable foster home. A week at the most.”

I looked back at the angel who sat at the small table, sized for little girls, her eyes slowly drifting around the room, taking in everything and nothing.

“A week?” I asked, obviously weakening, though I was never truly considering saying no.

“At the most,” Jerri said, encouragement in her voice.

“Jerri,” I said, figuring I probably should be completely honest with her. “I don’t exactly hide it, but I don’t shout it from the rooftops either.”

“What?”

“I’m a lesbian. I live with my wife over near UCLA.”

“Pff,” she said. “You think that matters? This is the twenty-first century.”

“Not in some parts of the country,” I said.

“Well it is in this little corner of the world. We don’t screen for that anymore,” Jerri concluded, her tone suggesting a finality that said it wasn’t an issue and would not be mentioned again, much less discussed. “Besides, I was told by someone you were a lesbian — I forget who — which makes you a perfect person to take her in right now. She doesn’t trust men.”

That made sense. She had probably felt abused by men her whole life if her mom had been forcing her to have sex with them for drug money. I looked at Paulette again, wondering what Lisa would say when I brought her home. This wasn’t like bringing home a puppy.

“She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?” Jerri said, causing me to look at her and wonder if she meant it the way I thought about such beauty. But she was just being motherly, not being a horny lesbian whose pussy creamed at such sights as the little girl sitting in my office.

I had managed to seduce or be seduced by quite a few girls who came to me, often inviting Lisa to join in for a session when she could make it. This one was different, though. I thought about the men she’d been forced to pleasure, and while my body wanted to make love with this little vision of beauty, my mind and heart refused to allow me to go there. I considered her forbidden fruit because of the probable trauma she had already suffered. I was sure any attempt at seduction would not be welcomed by Paulette. And that prevented me from trying to get her interested in anything like that. Her soul would have to be healed first. Then she might be taught that sex could be a joy.

“Okay,” I said, thinking of Lisa. “A week.”

“Thanks! She’ll be so much happier there than at juvee. I’ll call you the minute I have someone lined up.”

“No hurry,” I said, hoping that sentiment was true for Lisa as well.

After Jerri left, I finally managed to get Paulette to talk.

“Hi,” I began. “I’m Cheryl.”

She looked at me, her features blank, no emotion at all. “Hi. I’m Paulette, but you know that.”

Well, she’d been listening to my conversation with Jerri, at least.

But more than that, the maturity of the girl’s conversation surprised me. Startled me in fact. She was only five, but she conversed like a much older girl, maybe ten. In some ways, she didn’t even talk like a child.

She pointed at a picture of a yellow cat, an original artwork by one of my patients.

“That’s pretty,” Paulette said. “Who painted it?”

“One of my patients,” I said.

“What kind of doctor are you?”

“I’m a child psychologist,” I answered, wondering if I would now need to explain what I did.

“Oh,” Paulette said, as if that explained everything.

“Do you like to draw and paint?” I asked, thinking she was hinting at an activity she’d like to do.

“I don’t know. I’ve never tried it.”

I again marveled at the level of maturity in her conversation. If her voice sounded as old as her conversation made her sound, I would be able to close my eyes and think I was talking to one of my older patients, not the youngest one I’d ever had.

She interrupted my thoughts when she said something that really astounded me. “I like to read, though.”

Read? At age five? I began to wonder what her IQ was.

I got up and retrieved a copy of a Dr. Seuss book, that old stand-by The Cat in the Hat. 

“Not like those,” she said, disdain dripping from her tone. “Do you have Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire? I’m reading that right now, but I left it in my room.”

Harry Potter? She’s reading Harry Potter? I figured her verbal IQ would definitely test well into the genius range, at least 150.

Because I had many girls right now who were reading that series, I had a copy of the book she wanted in my office. I brought it to her and asked if she would read it aloud to me.

She shrugged, as if my request were a simple one, and after finding where she’d last read, began to read to me. After five minutes, I had her stop reading aloud.

“Who taught you to read?” I asked as if it weren’t important.

She looked at me with an intelligent gaze as if deciding if my question were worth answering. “TV,” she said, as if that answered all my questions.

I had never worked with a child like this, not even close. On the one hand, it frightened me. Could I work with such an intelligent child? Dealing with super-intelligent children is an art. They could rarely be treated like someone their own physical age, yet they didn’t respond well if they were treated more like someone their mental age. It was a delicate situation. On the other hand, I was elated, eager, overjoyed. Many child psychologists could go an entire career without even meeting a child this smart.

While Paulette sat there reading, I went into my office, closed the door, and called my wife.

As it turned out, I needn’t have worried about Lisa. She was thrilled we would be keeping Paulette for as much as a week.

After Paulette and I arrived at our house, I suggested the girl take a bath. She readily agreed and stripped right there in front of both Lisa and me. We watched as she revealed her slender body slowly to our eyes.

“My mom used to like to watch me, too,” she said.

“Your mom used to like to watch you do what?” I asked, figuring she would say something about getting undressed, but her response surprised me.

“Everything,” she said before asking, “where’s the bathroom?”

I glanced at Lisa and put my hand on Paulette’s shoulder, guiding her down the hallway to the bathroom.  I noticed the shabby clothing on the floor as we walked by. The panties had a big hole in them.

I turned to Lisa. “Would you throw those out?” I asked, nodding towards the pile of rags that had passed for clothing.

“Sure,” Lisa answered, her eyes tearing at the sight of the meager and ragged clothes the child had been forced to wear.

I ran the bath for the lovely creature that would be staying with us for at least the next few days, and halfway through that, Lisa showed up at the bathroom door. Like me, she couldn’t seem to take her eyes off of Paulette’s beauty.

When I heard Lisa gasp, I looked around to see what had made her do that.

Then I gasped. Paulette was sitting on the toilet, the fingers of her right hand inside herself, fucking her little pussy. The fingers of her left hand were rubbing her tiny clit. As we watched, she brought her left hand to her mouth, licked it to wet it, and returned to her pussy. Her breathing was already becoming ragged from the orgasm that seemed to be perhaps a minute away.

Then she was coming. She grunted and gasped as the feelings washed over her. After finishing her climax, she stood back up and looked at Lisa and me with a smile. Then she had stuck the fingers from her right hand inside her mouth to lick them clean of the small amount of pussy juice that her vagina had produced.

I looked at Lisa, who looked at me. Then we both looked at Paulette.

“Do you do that a lot?” I asked.

“Yes. It relaxes me,” she said.

“Is that what your mom used to watch you do?” Lisa asked.

Paulette nodded. “One of them.”

Something told me the other things would be just as interesting.

She climbed into the tub and sat there, making no move to wash herself. Instead, she looked up at me and Lisa as if waiting. Then it hit me. She didn’t bathe herself; her mother did that for her. I reached for the washcloth I’d taken out of the linen closet for her, dipped it in the bathwater, and began to soap it.

Then I noticed she was looking oddly at the washcloth. “Why are you using that?” she asked.

“Didn’t your mom use a washcloth to bathe you?” I asked.

“No. She just used her hands.”

I glanced back at Lisa, who was obviously getting turned on by this, thankful I’d agreed to bring this treasure into our home. A week? A month would be too short a time. I had planned not to do anything sexual with Paulette because I thought she was traumatized about sex. The situation was proving to be quite the contrary. Still, Jerri had mentioned a fear of men. Perhaps the child was only traumatized by men, not women? Something that happened later would answer that question clearly, but for now I was left to wonder.

And to enjoy this bath.

I started soaping my hands. I smiled at Paulette, but she was frowning, her brow furrowed in clear disappointment. Something else about bath time was missing.

I stopped lathering the soap. “What is it, honey?”

She looked at me with those piercing eyes. “Aren’t you going to get in with me?”

My breath caught. A few seconds passed and I closed my hanging mouth. Looking back at Lisa, I saw she had her eyebrows raised. Then Lisa spoke up. “Yeah, Cheryl, aren’t you getting in with her?” I could hear the lust in her voice.

I looked back at Paulette. Disappointment and hope seemed to drip from her like the water from my soapy hands. It was obvious she wanted me to undress and join her in the tub. It occurred to me that we could have moved this to our private bath, which had what was basically a hot tub, not this standard sized one. All three of us would fit easily there.

But Paulette was looking at me. She saw me as her rescuer. I was the mother figure to her. Since her arrival, she’d been nice to Lisa, but her view of us was more like I was her new mother, and Lisa a favorite aunt. I wondered how she would take the suggestion we move into the bigger tub for the bath. Would she panic? Would she refuse? It was becoming more and more apparent she wanted me to do sexual things to her. This was apparently the norm for the baths she’d had all her life.

I decided to check her out on the new tub idea, making it a suggestion she was free to turn down.

“Honey, Lisa and I have a much bigger tub than this one. It’s like a little swimming pool in our bathroom. We could be more comfortable in there if you’d like to move there.”

Those enigmatic eyes brightened and her delicious lips spread into a smile — the first since I’d met her. She nodded enthusiastically.

I turned to Lisa. “Lisa, while I get Paulette out of the small tub, why don’t you go start running the water in the big one?

Before Lisa could leave the bathroom, I looked back at Paulette. “How would you like it if we all three take a bath together? There’s lots of room.”

Her smile widened. I had my answer.

We moved to the spacious bathroom off our bedroom, and Lisa was running the bath for all of us. She was also busy removing her clothes when we entered. Paulette stared at my wife as she revealed herself to the child. When Lisa’s pussy came into view, the child’s stare became even more intense, as if she were trying to memorize every detail.

As the water rose higher, I placed Paulette into the giant tub and began removing my own clothing. Once again, she stared without a hint of awkwardness at my nudity as each garment was removed. Because I had been at work, there was more to take off, including pantyhose. By the time I was finished stripping, the tub was nearly full enough for us.

I stepped carefully into the tub and moved next to Paulette and Lisa, who had already joined our unplanned guest. Paulette was sitting astride Lisa, her legs on either side of my wife’s thighs. She was facing her.

“Can I wash your breasts?” Paulette asked a very happy Lisa.

“Sure,” was the expected answer.

Paulette reached over and grabbed the bar of gentle soap from the soap dish, and after lathering her hands, began to massage the slippery bubbles of soap onto Lisa’s breasts, which are quite a bit larger than mine.

The child seemed fascinated with the globes of flesh, each capped by a light pink nipple as big around as a ping-pong ball with a small point of flesh protruding from its center to form a hard point that I knew from experience felt wonderful against a soapy palm.

Finally, Paulette looked deeply into Lisa’s eyes and said, “You can touch me down there if you want.”

I could see that Lisa was so turned on by this that I thought she might come right then and there. Instead, she reached down and began to play with the fleshy lips of Paulette’s pussy. The little girl, who I still had trouble believing was only five years old, rinsed Lisa’s boobs and leaned into her chest to suckle my wife’s breasts. There was more than sexuality to the movement. This was an act of love and joy.

When she leaned back after beginning to squirm under the expert touches by Lisa, she looked at the woman whose breasts had received such loving attention and said, “Is it okay if I have some fun with Cheryl now?” Lisa nodded, of course.

It was odd. Until that moment she had not said my name once. I was actually touched by her saying it like that and in that context, as if we had been very special friends since her birth.

As the naked child moved to straddle my hips, I indicated my wife and said, “You know who she is?”

She smiled at her and said, “Sure. She’s Lisa.”

She looked at me then and said, “You can touch me down there too. You can both do whatever you want with me. I like it.” Her face clouded. “I just don’t like penises.” She meant what she said, too.

“What did your mommy call this?” I asked, touching her slit.

“My pussy or my cunt. Sometimes she called it my slit or mound, and even my kitty. She showed me where my clit is, and that’s what feels the best. I love how it feels when I touch it, and I love it even more when my mommy touched it.” She looked at Lisa. “You touched it nice too.”

“Do I touch it nice?” I asked, feeling the tender flesh beneath my probing fingers.

“Yes,” she said, smiling at me. Her pleasure was evident on her face. “Are you gonna make me come?”

“I hope so,” I said. “Did your mommy ever touch you with anything else, like her lips and tongue?”

“Yeah, that was the nicest of all, I think. I liked doing that to her, too.” I was amazed at the casualness of the child’s conversation about the lesbian incest she’d experienced — and enjoyed — with her mother. It was obvious that she considered those experiences to be normal, as if all children engaged in sex with their parent.

Paulette’s pussy was now clean from the rubbing by Lisa and me. I lifted her up and planted my lips on her mound, beginning to run my tongue over its surface. I couldn’t hold her there for long, but Lisa stood up and guided this lovely child to where she could sit on the edge of the tub and have her pussy licked.

She eagerly spread her legs and I continued pleasuring this lovely child.

Her breathing quickened and she began to chant, “I’m almost there! I’m almost there!” Then she was. She came like a grown woman would. Not with the flow of juices — her body was still only five — just as far as the orgasm’s intensity was concerned.

She came down from her sexual peak and moved to kiss me on the lips that had just been pressed against her little girl mound.

Lisa interrupted. “Uh, can we move this to the bed?”

I grinned at her. It was a wonderful idea. Before we got out of the tub, we all finished bathing, Lisa and I taking turns washing Paulette all over.

Soon we had dried off enough to move to our bed. Paulette gently urged us onto our backs next to each other, and she started by licking Lisa first, I suppose because she had been the first to touch her pussy.

Soon, Lisa was nearing an orgasm, and I mean within only a few seconds. Then the orgasm burst upon her, sending her body into paroxysms of released desire.

When she was finished coming, she looked at me, incredulity bathing her face. “Oh, my God!” she said. “I’ve not had a young girl that good at licking pussy since Laura.”

“Who’s Laura?” Paulette asked.

“We’ll tell you later,” Lisa said. “Do you want to lick Cheryl now?”

The child grinned and nodded and was soon giving me the best oral sex a five-year-old girl could ever give. Lisa was right. This girl’s ability was amazing for one so young.

Soon, I came as well, and it took me several minutes to recover.

“Can I come live here?” Paulette asked, looking deeply into my eyes.

Lisa chuckled and said, “Yeah, Cheryl, can she?”

I said, “We can talk about it.”

Lisa smiled and said, “I’ll fix her some dinner. You get in touch with whoever you have to contact to make this happen.”

By the next day, I had arranged to be Paulette’s foster mother. Jerri was thrilled. “I was hoping you’d say that!” she exclaimed.

*******

A month later Lisa and I sat in bed, discussing our future.

“I’ve been thinking,” Lisa said.

“What about?”

“Us.”

“Okay,” I said. “What about us have you been thinking about?”

Lisa snuggled up against me. We had spent the evening making love with Paulette. She was becoming more and more a fixture in our lives.

“I’m thinking I want to be a mom.”

“Being an aunt to Rachel’s children isn’t enough?” I asked. Rachel had married and now had two children, both girls. Their initiation into lesbian sex would begin soon.

“No.”

“So how do you propose to get pregnant? Artificial insemination?”

“No. Adoption,” she said.

I looked at my wife, my lover. Of course, I knew who she meant.

“You want to adopt Paulette?” I asked. She nodded. “That’s a big step.”

“I know,” she said.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. I love her so much. She’s like our daughter already. And she loves us, too.”

“I know.” She did, too. She told us all the time how much she loved us. I had been afraid she would be adopted by a heterosexual couple. This girl really didn’t like men at all.

One Saturday our neighbor, Greg, had stopped by to drop off some tomatoes from his garden. He was just being neighborly. But when we let him into the house, we wanted to introduce him to Paulette, but we couldn’t find her. When we finally located her, she was inside the closet in her bedroom, hiding. She had been afraid we had decided to share her with Greg. She was terrified.

I could see the problems that would arise if a man and woman wanted to adopt this beautiful child. She would never be able to love the man. She would always fear him.

We assured her that Greg would never hurt her, but it was no use. Paulette wanted nothing to do with him. In fact, it took over a year for her to be able to trust him, and that was after much work with her child psychologist mother.

Now, my Lisa was talking of adopting this precious girl. And I was already close to agreeing with her. I adored Paulette in a way I never thought I would adore a child. Yes, there was the sex, but it was more. Just as my love of Lisa was about more than the sex or even our shared desire for young girls.

The next day I called and asked Jerri if our adoption of Paulette was possible. She had laughed happily on the phone and said, “Considering I doubt that she could ever be happy in a home where there was a man, I would strongly support your efforts to do just that.”

I called my mother that afternoon. She thought the idea of adopting this lovely girl was a great idea. She had spent plenty of time with the girl that would be her granddaughter if we did indeed adopt her, and she loved the girl. There was a strong emotional attachment.

Finally, we asked the person whose views on the subject were more important than anyone else’s.

As the darling girl sat on the sofa, her gaze piercing Lisa and me to the core of our hearts, I asked her how she would feel about becoming our daughter. I didn’t have to explain about the difference between adoption and foster care. She was keenly aware that as our foster child, she could be removed without notice.

As her adoptive parents, she would be ours forever.

“That’s what I’ve wanted since the first night I was here,” she said, sounding as if we were silly not to have known it already, and I suppose in a way we were. And for the first time since setting eyes on her, I saw Paulette shed tears of happiness.

Now, here we were, six months after making that decision, standing before a judge, who was listening to Jerri give her unqualified support for our adoption of Paulette Hargrove, who until that day had never had a middle name. The judge granted our petition, and he signed the paperwork that would forever change her name to Paulette Brown-Taylor.  But now, not only did she have a new hyphenated last name, she would have a middle name as well. Henceforth, the judge declared, she would legally be known as Paulette Gwendolyn Brown-Taylor. She would forever carry the name of one of the bravest women I’d ever met, a woman who had given her life to return Cindy to her family, rescuing the woman I considered another mother from that Hell of a jungle compound in Colombia. It was a fitting tribute to Gwen to name this lost but now found girl after her.

That night, we went to my mom’s house to celebrate. It wasn’t a night for sex. It was a night for celebration and remembering. Besides Mom and Cindy, who cried when she was told Paulette’s new middle name, Lisa’s mom was there, as were Rachel, Jenna and her partner Miranda a lovely girl from Panama whom Jenna had met last year, and one who shared Jenna’s youthful tastes. The twins Sophia and Sonia who were now twenty and considered each other their life partner, sat beside each other making it look as if a mirror had been placed next to one of them. My aunt Emmy and her partner Danni, were there of course, and finally there was Deanna and Marie, who had moved in with each other over a year ago, much to my delight and surprise. Paulette was the guest of honor, and Lisa and I were the proud parents who beamed at our daughter with love and pride.

No men were present. Lisa’s father and Rachel’s husband, who were keeping Rachel’s daughters while we had this party, had understood. They’d been told about our daughter’s fear of men, as well as being assured that eventually they would be welcome at such an occasion as this after Paulette’s psychologist mother had time to work with her daughter on that fear. They still lived in complete ignorance of the special relationship we all had, but they were men and easily fooled by the women they loved.

After the feast we’d shared, I looked around the large dining table at the people who meant the most to me over my lifetime. They were all there, and my tears began to flow freely. They were tears of abundant happiness. The love that I was feeling had turned to tears and had overflowed my eyelids. This was my family, each of them. They had all done their part to shape who I had become, many of them unaware of the profound influence their own lives had had on mine. I was thankful for each one of them, and that night I made sure they each knew the depth of my gratitude for them.

I recalled a night when we had feasted years before. That fateful night before Gwen and Mom left to rescue Cindy. This time, the love was not colored in hues of sadness and fear. This time it was radiant in its splendor, alive with promise.

My life was good, and now it felt fulfilled. I was twenty-seven and very happily married, though as yet not legally in the United States, one of the world’s most backward nations as far as sex went. I had become a successful child psychologist who had a very secret method for dealing with problem girls, and now I was a mother. I looked at my lover, my wife. Lisa was crying openly as well.

It was 2009. Life had come full circle, and I was discovering that I had arrived where I’d begun, in a life of supreme love and happiness, where pleasure was celebrated, not frowned upon.

I raised my glass of wine to them all. “To family!” I squeaked, my throat tight with emotion as the tears flowed freely, and they all repeated my toast. “To family!”

– Finis –

In the Beginning…

  • Posted on May 16, 2017 at 3:44 pm

By Cheryl Taggert

Recently, Juicy Secrets received an email asking for advice on how to begin a story. While many new authors have no problems at all with starting a story, some do. After some emailed discussions between my site partners and me, we decided to post the information in my reply as a blog entry to continue our series of posts regarding the craft of writing. The following is the result of this endeavor.

Often fledgling authors come up with great ideas for a story, or even a book. Major aspects of the plot materialize and the thought occurs that these concepts should be put together for others to read and enjoy. The potential author sits down at the keyboard, enthused by the idea of creating a story. He or she stares at the blank screen. And stares. And stares. The idea is a good one, but where should the story begin? They’ve always heard “begin at the beginning,” but what exactly IS the beginning?

Sadly, for some the beginning of their story idea is also the ending of it. The story remains unwritten; the computer screen remains blank. I can understand the intimidation of the blank screen. Anyone who has set out to attempt to write anything has heard how important the beginning is. It must grab the reader’s attention immediately without seeming to try too hard to do so.

Published writers will disagree on which one of the “big three” — character, plot, or conflict — is the most important element in a story, so there is no set answer. For me, the most important is character. Who these people are that populate the story, especially the protagonist (the main character), is essential to a story’s opening. The plot and situation, or conflict, can come later — not TOO much later, but I feel if a reader cares about or is at least intrigued by the characters, he or she will continue to read. The opening line is important, which makes the start of a story so crucial.

For example, in addition to erotica, I love mystery stories. When I was in high school, I started reading Lawrence Sanders. In his novel The Tenth Commandment, he begins with this sentence: “I was an only child, so I became an only man.” Think about what this says about the first person narrator, whose name was Joshua Bigg. We’re told in the book’s second sentence that the character’s name is one of life’s jokes, since Joshua Bigg is very short — five-feet-three and three-eighths inches. However, this irony is clearly not for comic effect in the story. That first line says it all. It was an opening I’ve never forgotten (clearly), and I also never forgot the lesson I learned from it as a writer: Beginnings are the most important part of any story.

The truth is that no story actually begins “at the beginning.” In reality the lives of the characters you are creating have already been going on for a while. It is simply a case of thinking of a basic scenario that at least one of your characters finds herself in. (From this point I will be addressing how to write for our website, so nearly all of the characters would be girls or women.) It is also important that we know who this is, and that does not mean her name. But just having this character sitting on a sofa drinking a glass of wine is all well and good, but something does have to happen to her in order to keep us interested. So while I say character is the most important aspect in the opening, we must have plot, or a situation in which the character finds herself.

Many of the details of that situation are dependent on where the story the writer has envisioned will be going. Here are a few questions someone should consider when starting a story:

  1. Who is my protagonist (the main character)? What kind of person is she? Overbearing? Curious? A divorcee? A widow? Shy? Outgoing?
  2. What is her life situation? (How old is she? If she is a child, how much does she know about sex? Where is she? At home? School? Outside? Inside? What is occupying her mind when we meet her? Those kinds of things.)
  3. How much time will be spent developing the characters before actual sex takes place? (This can be tricky. Too little, and the reader can feel as though the characters aren’t important. Too much, and the reader can get bored before the fun even starts.)
  4. Who will my protagonist have sex with first? A friend? A relative? An adult? A playmate? Herself?
  5. How will I set up a situation in which my main character succeeds in having sex with this other person? Or if she is masturbating, how will I make sure she has enough private time to complete the act? If she is having sex for the first time with someone, she will still need privacy. How I provide that is up to me and will dictate the setting.
  6. Are there any problems that must be considered prior to the first sex scene?

These are just a few questions that a writer should consider. Most of these can be answered as you write, but some basics must be in place to set up the scenario the character finds herself in.

Take my current story (at the time of this writing), “Island of Joys,” as an example. When I began, I knew the following:

It would be a period piece, in this case the mid-1800s. I knew this would limit some of the things I included in my story. Battery-powered toys, for example, would be an anachronism, or out of place for that time period. Next, I decided that there would be four main characters in the story, two adult women and their two daughters. I wanted the women to be about two years apart in age, with the second main adult character, Sharon, slightly older and running from an abusive man. The primary protagonist would be recently widowed and taking her daughter to Australia. The children would be a mirror of their mothers regarding age differences: the younger woman’s daughter would be about two years younger than the older woman’s daughter. I would open with the four on a boat they had caught a ride to Australia on, having left from San Francisco, California, several days prior to the beginning of the story. There would be a storm that would sink the ship and cause the women and their daughters to be separated from the boat and the remaining crew. I also knew that the seaman who was rowing their lifeboat would attack someone the first night out after the storm had sunk the boat and be killed in the ensuing fight. I knew the sex between characters would take care of itself, which is what I think would happen regardless of the gender and situation the shipwrecked people found themselves in.

Those were the things I KNEW when I began writing the story. Since I knew the ship would sink in a storm, the best place to start the story was the storm itself. That is why I said that the situation the characters will face determines a number of aspects regarding the beginning of the story. If you go back and look at that opening chapter, you will see I begin with the captain warning one of the women about the storm. The rest sort of wrote itself after that because I knew where I wanted the story and situation to be by the end of that first chapter.

This brings up the point that a writer should ALWAYS have the target situation in mind when writing. Otherwise, an author can write him- or herself into a corner VERY easily. So… the story doesn’t start “at the beginning.” It starts in the middle of everything. I fill in the gaps of information with narrative later, such as how Sharon learned about survival. I will admit that this was a later addition, after JetBoy read the first few chapters and mentioned how unlikely it seemed that women in that time period weren’t totally paralyzed with fear when faced with surviving on a desert island. I thought about his comment and realized he was 100% right. This was not in the days of women in the military. This was the mid-19th century, when women, like children, were seen and not heard, as well as constantly ordered about by men. Thus, I used Sharon’s situation — running from an abusive husband — to help explain why she’s so prepared for this frightening task. So having a reader or two goes a LOOOONNNNGGG way to being a successful writer. All professional authors have them in addition to their agents. (Thank you, JetBoy!)

Therefore, because I knew where I wanted the situation to end up, I knew what had to be told to the reader in that first chapter. Because I knew that a special situation had to be in the story — a ship wrecked by a storm — I knew where I had to begin my story. After the opening line, it was easy as far as what would happen. When a mother accompanied by her young daughter is on a ship in the middle of an ocean and is warned about an approaching storm, she finds her daughter before doing anything else. That’s only natural. Then she sets about following the captain’s suggestion in this case to “tie everything down.” At that point, it’s all about getting my characters onto that desert island, where the idea of sex would eventually make itself known, which is already chronicled in chapter two.

So now our fledgling author might be thinking, ‘Okay, I have this girl age eleven who has discovered that she can find a lot of pleasure by rubbing her pussy.’ This brings up the question, how and where did she learn? Did a friend tell her about a sexy website (a very common storyline)? Was she washing herself in the shower or tub and had a ‘hey, that feels good… I wonder what would happen if I did it more and harder’ moment? Let’s say our author chooses the second one, the shower. She could start with the girl either getting into the shower OR she could have her lying in bed that night thinking about it and wondering about doing more… maybe she had a friend who had hinted at such feelings and she is curious about them. Who knows? The fact is how our new writer develops the plot is totally up to her or him.  One can begin ANYWHERE in the story, so long as it helps set up the first scenario the main character finds herself in. Here is a beginning to such a story:

Beth lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling and wondering about the feelings she had experienced in the shower that night. The sensations seemed to come out of nowhere. She remembered how her best friend, Leanne, had smiled in an odd way when mentioning how her nightly shower was her favorite time of the day. Beth had wondered if Leanne had been talking about some sort of sex thing because of that smile. It had been… suggestive.

Suddenly, Beth had an understanding of a term she had only thought she understood. A suggestive smile. She had heard that term before but had never realized it had something to do with sex. She’d just thought it involved a secret. Any secret. Here she was a normal, healthy eleven-year-old girl who got good grades in her sixth grade classes, and she had never realized the meaning of that term until now… when she had put two and two together and arrived at an adult understanding of something that had escaped her before. Did this mean she was finally growing up?

She had accidentally aimed the handheld shower massage unit at her pussy. She’d been thinking of Bobby Tyler and what it might feel like to kiss him when ZAM! the shower’s powerful sprat had hit her square in the pussy and sent shivers running through her. She’d pulled the handheld unit away suddenly, as if it had stung her. Then she had realized that if that was what it meant to be stinging her, then let the stinging commence! The accidental squirting of her pussy with the shower massage had started feelings she’d never experienced. Oh, things had felt “nice” before when certain pressures had taken place, but this was different the same way that riding a plastic horse on a carousel was different from riding a roller coaster.

She had aimed the jets of water once again at her center and had felt the most incredible things. Tingles had run through her like an electric current. She had shivered involuntarily although the water was very warm, almost hot in fact, the way she liked it. And the sensations she felt down below her waist were, well, both amazing and scary.

Slightly frightened and wondering if she were hurting herself without meaning to, she had put the shower head back in place and finished showering, intending to forget about what had happened.

But now she could do nothing BUT think about it.

And wonder how she could repeat those feelings now that she was no longer in the shower but lying here in her bed.

Now, look what we have here. We know the main character, Beth, is eleven years old and in sixth grade. Her best friend, Leanne, is probably slightly ahead of Beth in the sexual discovery department, something sure to come into play later, which foreshadows events that serve as an additional hook for the reader, who is now anxious to read about the characters’ future experiences. Beth is a good student, and she is discovering things she had never realized existed before. She has discovered that there’s something more to her pussy than something to pee from and bring babies into the world. She is obviously rather sheltered from the facts of life as far as her parents and explaining her body are concerned. She is on the edge of discovering some wonderful things about her body. And now the nocturnal situation our heroine finds herself in can lead to a full-on exploration of her pussy, an act of further discovery that could or could not end with her first orgasm. Frankly, if I were to continue writing this, I would have her not reach a climax this soon. I would want her to talk to her friend Leanne about this discovery first. However, the exploration could be a LOT of fun to write as well as to read.

I’m already thinking of where to take this — a sure sign that the story will hold my interest. At this point I would have to decide if I wanted the conversation between the girls to take place in this chapter or the next. If I’m writing only a short story instead of a longer work with chapters, I would get to that talk faster and end up with Leanne and Beth discovering more than just how to reach an orgasm when alone, but in all honesty doing that would be rushing events a bit too much, so this scenario would best be served by a multiple-chapter story at the very least, or an erotic novel should I get interested enough in these characters and their situation.

As far as creating a beginning to a story goes, all I’ve done is put a girl in a situation in which she is thinking about sex. There’s no set way to begin a story. The beginning all depends on where the author wishes to take the story in the long run. Our fledgling author could just place a character in a situation and tell us about it through her actions, dialogue, and thoughts… Once upon a time there was a little girl who thought about sex. It’s as easy as that.

If you are a fledgling author, give it a try. The feelings of accomplishment are well worth the effort. Just ask a few of our Other Authors featured at Juicy Secrets. They’ll tell you. And who knows? Your new story could even be as hot as a Carolina reaper pepper.

Island of Joys, Chapter 2

  • Posted on May 13, 2017 at 3:36 pm

By Cheryl Taggert 

The women and their daughters had been on the island for a week, and their lives had settled into a basic routine. Each morning, they gathered fruit for meals, and after breakfast, they would explore areas of the island they hadn’t had the chance to see.

They were hoping to be rescued, so they had also managed to start a fire using a magnifying glass they’d found in the pouch from the life boat. At the time they found it, the others had wondered what use it would be until Sharon demonstrated why the instrument had been included.

They made sure the fire was kept away from the treeline and above the ocean’s high tide. They didn’t fancy a forest fire, nor did they wish to be forced into starting another fire.

Sharon also taught the girls how to build traps for some of the small animals that inhabited the island. Not only that, but she had also managed to construct some spears and a crude but workable bow for arrows, using the tools found in the leather pouch.

She had almost finished creating some arrows, using the hatchet to chop down some thin trees and shaving the wood down to thin, fairly straight shafts, to which she attached feathers that had molted from some of the many birds on the island. They weren’t perfect, but they would have to do. She had used the whetstone to sharpen small rocks into tips, which she would tie to the ends of the shafts. Practice in using them would be important.

The girls were busy weaving a fish net from pliable vines, another skill Sharon had taught them. Every day they would show how much of the net they’d completed, and their mothers were quite proud.

As they sat for their evening meal, Beverly glanced for the thousandth time at Sharon. Something would have to be done about their need for privacy. They all slept under the lean-to — a more permanent shelter being in the planning stages — and any large movements would wake one or both of the girls, so getting together for some adult fun was not going to happen, it seemed. She had listened to Sharon masturbating the night before, long after the girls had gone to sleep. The woman’s movements had been so slight and so quiet that it had taken Beverly a while before she figured out what was happening. Sharon’s peak had involved strong breathing, nothing more, though she knew the woman wanted to shriek her climax to the night sky.

After Sharon had finished and Beverly allowed enough time to pass for the other woman to fall asleep, she decided to chance masturbating for herself. She was certainly excited enough. Her slit was a soaking mess.

Still, she hadn’t reached her peak because in the middle of her self-pleasuring, Karen had awakened.

The girl had whispered, “Mommy? Are you okay?”

Beverly had stopped immediately and said, “Yes, honey. I think I was dreaming.”

Her daughter had gone back to sleep, but Beverly could no longer attempt to bring herself to orgasm. She had lain there for what seemed like hours, trying to sleep. She had finally managed to drift off, and her dreams had been sexual in nature and involved Sharon and the girl she’d known when she herself was young.

She had awakened with an itching need in her mound and an awareness that the memory and dreams had excited her beyond tolerance, a realization that was frightening. She had been an adult in her dreams, as she was now, but the girl had been as she remembered her, firmly involved with puberty. In her dream she and Sharon had enjoyed sex with the young girl, as if the girl had been an adult and not still a child.

She had never felt these particular stirrings before in which an imagined sexual partner had been a child. Was she a pedophile? The dreams had been very erotic and had seemed quite real to her sleeping mind. In her dreams she had experienced no guilt, just pleasure.

Now, she sat beside Sharon and their daughters. For the first time, Beverly had taken a long look at the girls’ mounds of private flesh. Did they get excited sexually? She remembered she had felt twinges long before discovering a way to satisfy the urges those twinges brought on. How old had she been? Six? Seven? It had certainly been around that time of her life when she had noticed the wonderful feelings that were brought about by accidental touches and pressure on her mound.

Now she looked at Karen, her daughter. Had she felt those stirrings already? She was nine, at least two years older than Beverly had been the first time she noticed the private tingles that sprouted inside her.

And what about last night? Had Karen been awake long enough to realize her mother was rubbing her own mound? Because of what Jack had done to her, Karen was certainly aware that adults enjoyed such things.

She decided it was time for a confrontation. She realized she would not be able to continue like this, wanting sex with Sharon but never having the time away from the girls to enjoy it.

Beverly looked again at Sharon and the woman returned the look with raised brows, as if to say, ‘What?’ Beverly wasn’t aware of what kind of look she was giving Sharon, but it had obviously created puzzlement in the beautiful woman.

Now she looked at their daughters.

“Girls, we need to talk about some things,” she began. Glancing at Sharon, she said, “Adult things.”

“Beverly, I don’t think –” Sharon said, but Beverly interrupted her protest.

“I do think!” Beverly said, her need causing her to sound angry.

Sharon sat where she was, silent and stunned.

Beverly took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. It’s just that something must be done, and the only way for that to happen is if we tell the girls the facts of life.” She continued to look meaningfully at Sharon and continued. “I was awake last night.”

Sharon blushed before looking at the girls and back at Beverly.

“Okay. I guess you’re right.”

“Girls, Sharon and I are adults, and, well, adults have certain… needs.”

Both girls furrowed their brows, wondering what this would lead to.

“Needs?” Susan asked.

“Yes, dear. Physical needs,” Beverly said.

Susan’s expression showed she had an inkling about what this was about, but Karen still looked perplexed.

“What kind of physical needs?” Karen asked. “Naps?”

Beverly smiled, but Susan answered the girl’s question.

“She’s talking about sex.”

Karen turned red with embarrassment and said, “Oh.”

“You see,” Beverly continued, “sex is a basic human need. It’s more than just physical, it’s about closeness and tenderness and, well, happiness.”

“I want you to be happy,” Karen said to her mother.

“Yes, dear, I know you do, but you see, sex involves more than one person usually, and –”

“What do you mean ‘usually’?” Karen asked, interrupting her mother.

“Well,” Beverly said, blushing deeply, “a man or a woman can, um, give themselves sexual pleasure and satisfaction through what’s called masturbation.” She realized her daughter would ask what masturbation was, so she continued. “Masturbation is touching yourself in a sexual way to make your body feel good. It involves touching your vagina and your breasts and other things that feel good in a sexual way to achieve what is called an orgasm.”

Susan spoke up. “You mean like my mom last night?”

Shocked by the revelation that Susan had been aware her mother was masturbating the night before, the two women looked at Susan, their eyes wide, staring.

“You… knew?” Sharon asked.

“Sure,” Susan said. “I woke up and heard you breathing kind of funny, so I listened to find out if you were awake or asleep and maybe having a nightmare, but then I heard that sticky sound of your hand touching yourself… down there.”

“How do you know about that ‘sticky sound’?” Sharon asked.

Susan blushed. “Well, I’ve… uh… sort of… watched you do it.”

Sharon was both shocked and angry at having her privacy invaded like that. “You… watched me? Masturbating?”

Susan nodded. “I’m sorry, Mommy! I walked in on you and you didn’t notice, so I sneaked back out of the room and, well, I watched. I was just curious.”

Sharon eased her emotions enough to say, “Can I ask you something?”

“What?” Susan said.

“Why were you so curious about what I do in private?”

“I don’t know. I just wanted to see what you were doing. It’s not like I hadn’t touched myself before too, you know.”

“Oh, dear Lord! You’ve masturbated?” Sharon asked.

“Yeah, but I don’t have whatever that is that happens when you finish. I heard you last night and it was like some kind of explosion or something, and it’s real obvious you like it. But it just feels nice to me. I never have done that explosion thing.”

Beverly had been watching the exchange between Sharon and Susan and hadn’t noticed her own daughter. Now she looked at her and saw that the girl was looking at her mound and running her fingers up and down her slit, experimenting with the feeling.

Sharon heard Beverly gasp slightly and looked at her before following the woman’s gaze to see Karen masturbating right there in front of them.

“Karen?” Beverly said.

The girl looked up at her mother. “I was just touching it. I’ve made it feel nice before, too, but there’s not any kind of explosion.”

Susan giggled. “See? Not only grown-ups do that. Even Karen does it, and she’s only nine.”

Beverly realized the conversation had turned to something she hadn’t intended. She took a deep breath, but before she could continue, Sharon spoke up.

“It seems we all need to take some time to understand each other and our needs. I think it would be a good time to get everything out in the open, which is what you were intending, wasn’t it, Beverly?” she said.

Sharon was right, and Beverly recalled that just that morning she had wondered if her daughter felt anything sexual in her vagina.

“Yes, I suppose that’s right.” Beverly looked at the two girls. Karen had stopped masturbating, at least, so Beverly was more able to continue with this important conversation. “Are you two girls willing to discuss your experiences as it regards sex?”

The girls looked at one another before looking back at Beverly and nodding. Susan added, “I guess so. As long as I’m not in trouble.”

“You’re not. We just, well, we just weren’t prepared for this… revelation.” Beverly said. Looking at her daughter, she asked, “How long have you known about the special feelings touching yourself there can bring you?”

“A couple years, I guess. That was the first thing I noticed when that man started touching me there. When I touch it, it feels good, but when he touched it, it didn’t. In fact, it hurt.”

Beverly said, “You never told me he caused you physical pain down there.” She began to worry that the man had done damage to her daughter’s hymen.

“I was scared,” Karen said.

“Is there any pain there now?”

“No.”

“Did you bleed any after he touched you?” Beverly continued asking questions to determine the extent of the physical damage Jack may have inflicted.

“A little. Is that bad?”

“No, dear,” Beverly said. “It’s not bad, but I think he may have torn your hymen.”

“What’s a hymen?” Karen asked.

“It’s a small amount of tissue at the entrance to your vagina, the sleeve of flesh that babies come through,” Beverly said. She had already told Karen where babies came from.

“Do I need to see a doctor about it?” Karen asked. “We don’t have a doctor here.”

“No, honey, but if you don’t mind, I would like to inspect your vagina to see if everything is okay there.”

Karen blushed, but she stood up and went to her mom, saying, “Okay.”

“Lie down,” Beverly instructed her.

When Karen was lying on her back, Beverly got on her knees so she could look at her daughter’s vulva and the area where her hymen should be.

Reaching out, she spread her daughter’s labia. The first thing she noticed was that the little girl’s clitoris was slightly enlarged, though still no larger than a small seed, and a small amount of vaginal fluid was coating her inner labia. She knew that at age nine, Karen wouldn’t be producing much in the way of lubricating secretions, but this amount surprised her.

As she began exploring the inner recesses of her daughter’s mound, she made contact with Karen’s clitoris. This caused the little girl to jump, as if pricked by a needle. It dawned on Beverly that her little girl was sexually excited. She marveled that several minutes after stopping her rudimentary masturbation, Karen was still sensitive enough to react to a slight touch on her little bump.

“Karen?”

“Yes, Mommy?”

“Did it feel nice when I touched you where I did?”

Karen blushed and nodded.

Beverly remembered her dream as she realized she, too, was sexually excited.

Her daughter’s mons reminded her of Jessica’s, the girl her age that she’d experimented sexually with as a young girl. Beverly had a sudden urge to lean down and kiss her daughter’s clitoris and labia. She was sweating now, and her desires nearly took over. She glanced at Sharon to see what she knew would be disapproving looks, but she found the woman’s gaze to be totally different from an admonition to her to stop what she was doing before things went too far.

Sharon was sweating as well. Her hands were casually caressing her torso, avoiding her nipples and vaginal mound, but the touches she was giving herself were sexual nonetheless.

Beverly looked at Susan, and she seemed to be in a trance. She was staring at Karen’s mound and sweating as well. Her hands were rubbing up and down her thighs. Like her mother, the caresses avoided the most important areas, but they were extremely sexual. Erotic, in fact.

Sharon spoke, and her voice was soft and husky sounding. “You’ve not checked her hymen.”

“No, I haven’t,” Beverly said, then added, “Are you seeing what I’m seeing here?”

“You mean the swelling? The moisture?”

Beverly swallowed. “Yes.”

“Yes, I see it,” Sharon said needlessly. Beverly noticed that Sharon’s breathing had increased, becoming a quicker pace than normal.

She looked again at Susan. She noticed that every third stroke or so of her thighs, Susan would make quick contact with her mound, swiping a finger at her slit while trying to be secretive about the action. The three of them were enjoying this much more than she ever thought they might. All three of them were getting very excited, the sexual atmosphere was palpable. She looked back at Karen. No, she corrected herself. All four of them were excited.

Beverly’s hand was still holding Karen’s labia open to allow them all to see the wet interior of her most private body part. She looked back at Sharon, whose eyelids were now half-closed in lust.

She made eye contact with Sharon and then did the same with Susan. Making a decision, Beverly said to them, “Go ahead. It’s alright. There’s nobody here to object and nobody to tell anyone about it.”

“Are you sure?” Sharon gasped.

“Of course I am,” Beverly said. “It’s not as if your daughter doesn’t know you do it. She’s watched you.” Beverly looked at Susan. “She’s emulated you, seeking that wild and wonderful explosion between her thighs.”

Sharon moved her roving hands to her nipples, pinching them before letting her right hand trail down to her hair-covered slit. Two fingers spread the wet labia before scissoring the clitoris, pinching it firmly.

Susan, at first unaware of what Beverly had been talking about, realized the woman was saying it was okay to masturbate, to touch themselves in the most private way. She followed her mother’s lead, hoping to find that magical explosion by doing what her mother did.

Beverly realized she could just as easily lick and kiss Susan’s mound as well.

Doubt and fear filled her for a moment. This would mean she was indeed a pedophile. There was no way around that fact. She was getting erotically excited while inspecting her daughter’s mound, and Sharon and Susan were watching and masturbating. She knew that, given enough time, Sharon would reach her climax. Since Beverly planned to have one or two orgasms herself before this little activity ended, she would make sure her explorations of Karen’s vulva lasted long enough for Sharon to fulfill her desires.

Leaning down and peering into the open mons, she spread the lips wider to afford her a look at her daughter’s vagina itself. She could see that indeed the hymen was partially torn. She looked up over her daughter’s belly to Karen’s eyes, which were intently watching what her mother was doing, with an occasional glance toward Sharon and Susan, who were openly masturbating.

Taking her thumb, Beverly began stroking her daughter’s clitoris. The girl jumped again, taking in a sudden gasp of breath, but otherwise the child did nothing. Beverly continued stroking the tiny pea of flesh, and her daughter was starting to tremble.

Then Beverly looked back at Sharon and said, “Never tell anyone about this.”

“I won’t,” Sharon managed, her eyes still glued to Beverly’s thumb and Karen’s clitoris.

Then Beverly leaned over and placed her mouth on her daughter’s cunt. Yes, it was now a cunt to her, not just a mound or a vagina. It was a sexual thing. Something that gave pleasure to her daughter as well as anyone else her daughter allowed to satisfy it.

Her lips wrapped themselves around her daughter’s small clitoris, and her tongue did a fast, rhythmic dance on it. She heard Sharon gasp and utter, “Oh, my God.” Beverly ignored it and continued lavishing her attentions on her daughter’s center of desire.

Karen’s reaction was instantaneous. She squealed and began to buck her hips involuntarily, as moans came from her that the young girl had never known existed.

She watched her mommy assaulting her mound, feeling her mother’s lips, tongue, and teeth bring that tiny area intense pleasure. And the feelings she experienced from this were beyond anything she’d ever felt or even imagined.

Then, without much warning at all, she had her first orgasm while her mother’s mouth and tongue made love to the soft flesh.

The moment she began to come, Sharon’s own orgasm seized her. Only Beverly and Susan did not reach their peaks yet.

But Beverly intended to change that. In fact, Beverly considered that Sharon was about to do something to her daughter that she’d never thought of before. But if Beverly had brought her daughter to orgasm with her mouth, then Sharon would do the same for her own daughter. It was important to Beverly that Sharon join in the debauchery so Beverly could avoid the guilt that threatened her even as her own hand delved below her waist to the burning desire she felt emanating from her swollen gash.

Beverly had decided that this must be their future, and if that were going to happen, then Sharon would have to do the same thing Beverly had.

Lifting her head from her daughter’s cunt, Beverly said to Sharon, “Your turn. Show your daughter how to have an orgasm.”

Susan smiled. “She’s going to do that to me?”

“Yes.” Beverly’s answer left no room for argument from Sharon.

Sharon blushed and moved to where her daughter sat. “Lie down,” she said. She was surprised at her own willingness to do this. No, not willingness. Eagerness.

She wanted it like nothing she’d ever done before. Perhaps she would explain later how she’d dreamed of doing this to her little girl, though of course she’d never told a soul of her fantasies.

Chapter 3 is coming soon!

I Was the Daughter of a Porn Star, Chapter 87

  • Posted on May 8, 2017 at 5:26 pm

The Honeymoon, Lily, and Laura

By Cheryl Taggert 

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

We had fun in Amsterdam for a few days, enjoying everything from the red-light district to the Anne Frank House. A lot of people there ride bicycles, and the streets have special areas for bikes and scooters, and renting a bicycle was much cheaper than it would be in the states, so that’s how we got around the city. Lisa and I fell in love with Amsterdam and plan to return one day.

That first morning after the reception we lay in bed after making love and cuddled. I wanted to discuss what had happened the day before in this bed, not so much what she and I did with her cousins Joanne and Crystal, but what her mom had done.

“So, what do you think about your mom and your cousins?” I asked.

“Holy shit!” Lisa said. “Talk about something coming out of nowhere! Mom’s like a complete freak about this stuff now.”

“Yeah,” I said, “she’s really into it. Kinda freaked me out some, too. I mean, I know you and Rachel had sex with her at my house that day, but she got this… I don’t know… this look when she found out Joanne and Crystal were back in our room having sex. I thought she might have an orgasm standing right there in the ballroom.”

“She and Rachel are rooming together. I wonder if something happened last night when they went to bed?”

“No telling. I mean, she didn’t come back to the party for over an hour when she came here to have sex with her nieces. Maybe she got enough from them and was too tired,” I said.

“It’s kinda weird knowing my mom has had sexual thoughts about me and Rachel all this time. I mean, since we were kids. I never had any idea. She must’ve been checking us out whenever she had the chance.”

“Well, I knew she was a very sexual person from our talk in your kitchen that day.”

Lisa sat up on one elbow and looked at me. “Yeah, that reminds me, you never told me about that conversation other than she wanted you to tell me all about your sexual history.”

“She’s seen the videos,” I said. Lisa knew exactly which videos I meant, the ones I made with Deanna, with one including my mom.

“Oh my God! Really?!” I nodded. “Did she guess about you and your mom? I mean that was really intimate between you two.”

“No, I don’t think so. At least she didn’t give any indication she suspected it. Maybe she did, though. I mean there she was hiding from me that she’d been lusting after you and Rachel since you were little. Maybe she wondered about it.”

“I don’t know. She was pretty shocked when she got to your house that day and caught us all naked on one bed while the twins were getting it on in the other.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” I said. “I suppose the Mom gene was in control right then. I mean she also seemed upset that you were naked while not having a problem with a couple of eleven-year-olds having sex in the next bed. Knowing what we know now, a part of her had to be turned on, like, instantly when she saw that.”

“I agree. I mean, was it for appearances? She’d never told us or anyone about her desires before, so she had to keep up the appearance of having a problem with it?”

“I guess so.”

Lisa moved to another topic, the movies. “So, my mom saw your movie, huh? What did she think of it?”

“Actually, she never said. At the time I thought she shut it down when she recognized me. She may have even said that, I don’t recall. What she did say was that something like that could cause problems for us. I told her you already knew about it because you’d watched it.”

“You told my mom I watched internet porn?”

“Sure. I mean, you obviously were sexually active. She admitted she should have already known you did.”

“Well, thanks for discussing my masturbation habits with my mom. I’m sure she appreciated it.”

“Knowing what we know now, you can bet on it,” I said with a smirk that got me a sharp goosing from my wife.

We talked to Joanne and Crystal later, and they said that when Lisa’s mom walked in, they didn’t hear her at all they were so involved in having sex. They said they heard someone clearing her throat, and because they knew we had left, they started scrambling for covers when they saw it was their aunt.

Then they noticed that their sexy aunt was also naked and was rubbing her pussy softly.

“That was so fucking wild,” Joanne said. “Before we knew it, she was in the bed and taking turns licking us. I came like crazy.”

“So did I,” Crystal said. Then looking at Lisa, she said, “And your mom’s cunt is really juicy and delicious. You should try it sometime.”

“I have,” Lisa said, and their jaws dropped while their eyes bugged.

When we saw Rachel later that morning, she was all smiles.

“Mom woke me up this morning by eating me out,” she said as if telling us it was sunny outside. “I told her after we got each other off a couple of times that she should have done something about her desires sooner. She said she thought about it a million times but always managed to talk herself out of it because she thought we’d be all warped because she had sex with us.

“Then when she found out Cheryl and her mom had been having sex since Cheryl was little,” Rachel continued, “she realized that if it was done in a loving way, there would be no problems. I know I intend to teach my kids about sex.”

“Even if you have a son?” Lisa asked.

“Hey, I’m not like you. I’m bi.”

“Oh, yeah. Forgot,” Lisa said, grinning. “But if you have a daughter will you let us have some fun with her?”

Rachel smiled at us. “Of course.”

That night Lisa and I joined her mom and Rachel for a little orgy. It was one of the best times we had while in Amsterdam. It was also the first time I had sex with Lisa’s mom. I also found that Crystal was right. Her cunt really was juicy and delicious.

After our days in that lovely city we checked out of our hotel and left to board our flight to London. Although our honeymoon had technically already begun with the fun we had with Joanne and Crystal, we were looking forward to our week there without everyone else around.

It was a short flight, just an hour, and when we landed at Heathrow, we took a long cab ride to our hotel, which was near Central London. It actually took five minutes longer to get from the airport to downtown London as it did to fly from Amsterdam to London. We were staying at the Trafalgar Hotel, adjacent to Trafalgar Square, which was an eight-minute walk to Big Ben.

In other words, we were in Heaven.

Mom had contacted the hotel to let them know we had just married in Amsterdam, and they were gracious beyond belief. A bottle of Dom Perignon was waiting in the room for us, chilling in an ice bucket. Rose petals were scattered on the bed and along the carpet when we entered the room. The manager told us that a friend of my family’s had provided a large sum of money to ensure our stay was “exquisite.” When we got back home, we found out that Cindy and Lisa’s mom had paired up to do that. Tips were not common in London, so they weren’t used to receiving money to, as they said, “do our jobs,” but they would hope that we gave them a good report upon our return home.

We have no idea how much money they had given, but we didn’t have to pay for a single meal while we were there if we ate at the hotel, and the prices were rather steep.

The second day, we chanced upon a wonderful young girl and her mother. We were walking through the Piccadilly area of the city when we saw a young girl, maybe ten-years-old, playing outside a building in a fountain. The girl was playing in the water… fully clothed in thin cotton garments.

This made the clothing totally transparent. We could easily see the girl’s nipples (stiff), as well as her butt and pussy (obviously sans panties). Her light green top and yellow shorts, which clung to her naked body beneath, may as well have been discarded on the side of the street.

Lisa and I couldn’t help but stop to watch, pretending to enjoy the girl’s antics rather than her body. The mother, however, knew better.

We were standing there, watching the girl while exchanging glances that showed our appreciation for the local scenery, when we heard a woman speak up right behind us.

“She is beautiful, isn’t she?” the woman asked in a refined English accent. “She shows such joy in her play.”

We were startled by the woman — we didn’t realize she was there — and our shock registered as we turned suddenly to face her.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I just noticed your appreciation for my daughter,” she said.

“Yes,” I said. “She looks like she’s having a lot of fun. But won’t she get in trouble for playing in the building’s fountain?”

“Well, I suppose she could if the owners of the building took issue with her playing in their fountain. But since I’m the owner of the building as well as Laura’s mother, I doubt she will get into any trouble.” Our new acquaintance, who was very pretty and looked to be in her late twenties or early thirties, smiled at her little joke.

We chuckled as well, probably more from nerves at being observed watching this child than at the joke. Lisa tackled the public exposing of the girl’s nude body beneath the transparent clothes.

“But what about the fact her body is totally on display? Isn’t that illegal?”

“We aren’t as shocked at nudity here in Europe as you Americans are. She’s just a young girl enjoying the water,” the woman answered. “Besides, the two of you seemed to be enjoying the view.”

Lisa and I exchanged a look. I felt myself blushing, which matched Lisa’s face. Had the woman noticed our true interest in watching her daughter playing in the water?

I stammered, “Well, um, I –”

The woman chuckled. “Don’t let it bother you that your appreciation was obvious to me. I’ve seen it countless times, right here while she let the world see her nudity beneath the wet clothing. Usually, it’s men or boys, regardless of age. It’s amazing how many tented pants I’ve seen here. But sometimes we get lucky and a young woman stops to admire Laura’s body.”

“But,” Lisa managed to protest, “we weren’t looking at her body. We were just watching her having fun.”

The woman leaned closer to us. “Come now. You both were practically drooling.” We faced this woman, shock coloring our faces. “Don’t worry, dears. Your secret’s safe with me. After all, don’t you Americans always say, “It takes one to know one”? The woman smiled slyly, obviously sharing her secret with us. She appreciated her daughter’s body as well.

We were, it seemed, among friends.

Again, the woman leaned close. “My name is Lily. Laura is my daughter. When we’re in a — particular mood — we come out here and she plays in the fountain in clothing that will become unnecessary within seconds. So you see, dears, this is a fishing expedition. Laura is the bait.” Lily smiled gaily. “And it appears I’ve hooked two instead of one.”

I saw a man ogling Laura, his pants already tenting at the crotch. “Actually, three,” I said, nodding towards the man.

Lily’s reaction was immediate.

“Excuse me! You there! What do you think you’re doing?” Lily admonished, gesturing toward the man’s crotch. “She’s just a little girl!”

The man looked at the woman with wide eyes and scampered away.

When Lily came back to us, I said, “I don’t understand. If you’re fishing for people interested in your daughter’s, well, charms, why chase him away?”

“Oh, my dear, it’s obvious, isn’t it? We much prefer young ladies to men, especially Laura, who is a virgin and won’t allow a man to stick his stinking shaft into her, usually angering the man or boy. Yeah, we do have them up occasionally, but sometimes the rules are a bit restrictive for the blokes.”

That’s when it dawned on us.

“You have people up to your place to have sex with your daughter?”

“I’ll deny it if you say anything to anyone about it,” the woman said. “That’s why I’ve kept our conversation private. What we like is nobody’s business.

I glanced at Laura and she was looking our way with a saucy smile. She got out of the fountain and joined the three of us. Then holding out a wet hand for me to shake, she said, “Hello, there. I’m Laura. Won’t you come up for some tea?”

She shook hands with Lisa as well, and Lily guided us toward the building’s front door. We were escorted inside, and it occurred to me that we could be in some danger, but that feeling was short-lived as Laura shed her wet clothes and sat in a nearby chair while her mom talked to the two of us. I was distracted by Laura, who couldn’t seem  to stop running her hands over her body and stopping occasionally to stroke her bald pussy for a moment before moving on again to touch somewhere else.

“You see,” Lily began, “we enjoy sex. Laura can’t seem to get enough. Me? I like to watch others with my darling daughter. The men and boys she will masturbate or suck while allowing them to touch her and get her off with their hands and fingers or their mouths. The women, though, have the freedom to do whatever they want since they lack the equipment Laura doesn’t want inside her. And I want what Laura wants. We’re always delighted when a girl or woman gets interested. You two seem to be a bit of both. Not quite old enough to be strictly considered a woman, yet too old to be a child.”

“We’re eighteen,” I said by way of explanation.

“Oh, my. A perfect age for today’s fun. We’ve had all ages.”

“You have young girls, children, expressing interest?” I asked.

“Oh, my yes,” Lily answered. “We’ve had girls as young as Laura is. Last summer there was even one a year younger than Laura, and my daughter was nine at the time. The girl’s mother enjoyed the show as much as I did.”

“Well fuck me twice and let me die,” Lisa said, using her favorite line to express shock.

“Well, Laura can do that, too. She’s even done some fisting of older women,” Lily said in response to Lisa’s statement. Laura giggled just as Lily added, “So, then. Are you two game? Would you like to play with Laura?”

I looked at Lily, unsure how to broach this subject. “Um, is there a charge?”

“Heavens, no. We should pay you! No, this is all about enjoyment. Take all the time you need or want. I can tell you Laura is quite turned on today. She told me earlier she wanted some fun, and I’m certain she loves it that you two dishes are her reward for showing the world her sexy body beneath those clothes.”

“So what do we do?” I asked, unsure how to begin and feeling awkward.

“Anything you’d like, but I imagine you’ll enjoy it more if you’re naked.”

“What about you?” Lisa asked. “Won’t you be joining us?”

“I like to watch. You two just get started and I’ll join in by myself as your lovemaking progresses.”

I shrugged at Lisa as if to say, ‘What the hell?’ and she returned the shrug. We began to undress in front of Lily and Laura.

As we finished getting undressed, I asked Lily, “Do you mind if I ask your age?”

“Not at all,” Lily said. “I’ll be thirty next month.”

I looked at Laura, and she was smiling at Lisa and me.

“You’re both bald there, too!” she said.

“Yes, I’ve permanently removed my hair there. I like to be like I was when I was your age,” I said.

“And I like to be like my wife,” Lisa said.

“You’re married to each other?” Laura asked.

“Yes, just last week we got married in Amsterdam,” Lisa said.

“Who wants to lick me to my second orgasm of the day?” Laura said, lying back on the sofa. Lisa and I both raised our hands and laughed.

“Second orgasm?” Lily asked. “When was your first?”

“When I was squatting over the fountain and letting it jet against my clit,” the girl said.

“You are a little minx, aren’t you?” Lily said, and I watched as the girl’s mother tweaked her own nipples through her dress.

This was going to be wild.

Laura didn’t have to wait long to get her bald, little pussy licked. Lisa and I both moved between the girl’s outstretched legs and began taking turns tasting the fresh, young cunt offered to us.

Laura began to squirm right away as Lisa took her turn first. I watched as my wife licked the child, causing Laura to moan at the first contact of Lisa’s lips to her excited flesh.

By the time it was my turn, Laura was bucking her hips to increase the pressure on her clit. I was amazed that we had happened on this pair.

Lisa decided to squat over Laura’s face when the child began to beg for someone to offer a pussy for her to lick. I would have but I figured it was only fair for the one not engaged in giving pleasure to the young girl to have that opportunity.

“Oh, my God!” Lisa exclaimed as the girl’s lips and tongue began their assault of her pussy. “Cheryl’s she’s fantastic. Really knows — really knows what she’s… doing with… with her mouth.”

I couldn’t wait to experience the girl’s talent. Lisa could barely put words together to form a sentence she was so involved in the erotic sensations the child was so expertly giving her.

Meanwhile, I could hear some rustling of clothing beside me and looked to see Lily taking off her slacks, followed by her shirt. She now had only a bra and panties on. They were a gorgeous, matching set, black with lacy red trim along the edges. The waistband of the panties and the red trim at the cleavage of the bra had tiny yellow flowers spaced along them. The panties were translucent and the bra did magnificent things to Lily’s cleavage. I could see through the panties enough to know the woman was as bald as I was on her mound. Lily was sitting where I could watch her a little bit in my peripheral vision.

I continued licking Laura as her mother began to touch herself, first pinching her nipples through the fabric of the bra before reaching down to push her hand inside the panties. I wondered if masturbating would be all she’d do or if she might join us at some point.

Laura was now bucking her hips against my mouth in earnest. I felt she was getting close to orgasm, though having never seen her come before, I wasn’t sure. She’d been pretty wild since we had started.

Then Lisa began her own climax, and it was a doozey, based on the guttural moans and near screams that were echoing throughout the room. Laura kept her mouth glued to Lisa’s pussy until she had finished that orgasm, and remained there until Lisa was coming once again, this time even harder than the one before, again judging from the sounds my wife made.

I was almost jealous that a ten-year-old girl could lick her at least as well as I could, perhaps better.

Then Laura was coming, and I kept things up until she was through. Guessing the child might be as multi-orgasmic as Lisa and I were, I remained there, as she had done with Lisa, and sure enough, seconds later, she was coming again, grinding herself against my mouth as I swallowed the surprising amount of juices the girl was producing for me.

Lisa finally could take no more and climbed off the girl’s wet face. Turning over, my wife began licking her juices from the girl’s face, stopping periodically to kiss Laura and let the girl suck the juices from her tongue.

The look on Lisa’s face was priceless. She looked to be in love with the girl.

Lisa tapped me on the shoulder as Laura finished another in a series of climaxes. I moved from the girl’s hairless pussy and positioned myself over the girl’s still wet mouth. Pressing down, I felt her talented tongue make contact with my pussy.

I now knew what Lisa meant about how skilled the girl was at licking pussy. I thought I would go into orbit any second. However, she realized I was close and backed off for just a moment to allow my nerve endings to calm before moving back to full pressure. Her tongue danced around my clit.

I could hear a sound echoing in the room and it took me a moment to realize that I was the one making them. Squeals of delight and erotic joy came from deep within me. Good Lord! This girl could make money giving pussy eating lessons!

Laura began to come again, and I looked down to see my wife’s face. I could tell that if her mouth weren’t full of the girl’s tender pussy that she would be smiling knowingly at me. Her eyes seemed to say, “I wasn’t kidding, was I?”

Right after that, the world exploded. I began to come in one long orgasm that rolled right into another. I may have screamed, I’m not sure. I rode Laura’s face until I couldn’t ride it any more and remain conscious. Rolling off her, I lay on the floor beside the sofa and did my best to catch my breath and allow the sweat that was pouring off me to dry and cool me down.

At that moment, Lily began to come. She had now stripped completely, and her hand was a blur as it swiped across her cunt, bathing her fingers in the copious fluids that were pouring from her vagina. I looked at her and my eyes asked if I could have a taste of her vagina. She nodded, and I moved to where I could lick the woman’s bare pubes.

I moaned she was so tasty. Her fluids tasted clean, with a slight tartness that gave her a distinct flavor.

I brought her to another orgasm, and Lisa was there to take over for me. I looked over and saw that Laura was rubbing herself as she watched us licking her mother’s pussy. She was licking her lips absently, as if she were imagining her mother’s delicious juices.

I moved to Laura and began licking her.

Once again, I thought about our luck. What a wonderful situation to come upon.

Ten minutes later, we were all sprawled in various chairs and on the sofa. We chatted for a few minutes before finally getting up to get dressed again. That’s when we found out that mother and daughter slept together each night, living as lovers, but that they reserved their own lovemaking for their own private times. I guess I couldn’t blame them, especially Lily. That was one awesome little girl. I suddenly wondered if she’d learned her pussy-licking technique from Lily, her mother. If so, I’d love to be able to sample Lily’s talent in that area.

Then as Lisa and I left, we made a date to come back the next day.

Continue on to Chapter 88

Happy 2nd Birthday AND 1000th Post, Juicy Secrets!

  • Posted on May 4, 2017 at 2:18 pm

Please join us, dear readers, in celebrating the second anniversary of the founding of our site. Have a piece of birthday cake, read the messages below from Naughty Mommy, JetBoy, and Cheryl Taggert, and also congratulate yourself on being a valuable part of something truly wonderful and unique.

Cheryl’s message:

Oh, my! What a fast two years it has been. Once again, the three of us who started this little endeavor have decided to post a blog entry to celebrate the anniversary of the Juicy Secrets site going LIVE for our readers, this one the site’s second birthday. However, this time, there’s more to celebrate!

As of today, we posted the 1,000th entry at the JS site! That is a LOT of stories, chapters, and submissions by Anonymous for your enjoyment. That number also indicates how busy we all have been here. This site takes a lot of work, and I believe that hard work shows in the quality of material we feature here. If the average number of words per entry is 2,500 words, that means there are around 2.5 MILLION words dedicated to erotic stories for your reading pleasure!

We’ve not done this on our own, either. Our accomplishment is shared by twenty-one other authors whose work now appears on the Other Authors page, as well as the forty-six authors represented on the Best of Leslita tab of the Juicy Secrets website. A few of those Leslita authors are also contributors listed on the Other Authors page, of course, but I’m sure you get the idea. There are MANY excellent authors represented here. And those numbers are as of today’s date as I write this, April 26, 2017. These numbers could increase by the posting date for this blog entry.

That is no small feat in itself. There are many here who would attest that there are many stories we turn down for various reasons. Some are well-written but stray too far from the lesbian themes we choose to feature. Others could be well-written if the authors chose to complete a re-write and re-submit the work, and still others are just not up to the level of quality we seek here for our erotic literature.

As many of you are painfully aware, many authors found on the Net can be, well, rather lacking in talent. Some stories out there are so bad they can make readers laugh. Others are so brief that about the only thing that happens is a character reaches an orgasm — probably about the same time the piece’s author did. I call these stories “wankers,” an apt name if you ask me.

Fortunately, the work of the vast majority of authors who submit work to us does not fall into that last category. In fact, I don’t believe we have received a “wanker” since the early months of our website’s existence. I believe people recognize the quality of the stories we feature here and choose not to submit something unless they feel it is worth our time to read. Sometimes it isn’t quite there, but lately the writing we have received is extremely good. For one thing, we keep getting submissions from many of the authors whose work we have already posted. And the first submissions we receive now are considerably better than the first submissions we were getting early in the life of Juicy Secrets.

I recently emailed my partners here and “complained” that I no longer had enough time to read every story and chapter we post here. I will read the first chapter — or at least most of it — when it is submitted for consideration; however, I am woefully behind on reading subsequent chapters. That is because there is just so much that is coming in now that we are posting, and subsequent chapters roll in regularly!

As of this writing, there are 23 drafts either being worked on by the site owners to prepare for publication on the website or simply waiting in the wings for a publication date. Furthermore, there are 7,348 comments from readers and the three owners. By the time this blog posts, those comments will be above 7,400, and the draft numbers will probably remain about the same, meaning we will have posted as many as we receive between now and then.

I am so happy my partners contacted me and asked if I wanted to go in with them on this venture. It is a labor of love for all three of us, and I am honored to be a part of it.

So, here’s to you, faithful readers! Thank you for an amazing two years. We hope you are around for many more!

JetBoy’s message:

When Naughty Mommy first reached out to me in early 2015, asking if I thought it would be a good idea to start her own story website featuring lesbian erotica, my response was immediate: Yes, you totally should, and can I be a part of it? Cheryl responded in much the same way, and we were off to the races. The starter’s pistol is fired; we’re off and running!

At the time, we had no idea how our little venture would fare. Would we be able to get the site established without getting shut down by the censors and moral arbiters of the internet? Could we negotiate the many technical ins and outs of setting up and running a website in the first place, considering that among our eager trio, only Naughty Mommy had any real computer know-how? Were there enough potential readers out there to give a damn about what we were striving to create?

Then, once Juicy Secrets was up and functioning, we were confronted by another crucial question: would there be other writers out there who would be interested in offering us quality stories of their own… or authors we loved who might be coaxed out of retirement to write once more?

Two years and a thousand site entries later, you can see for yourself how those questions were answered… and how deliriously happy we are with the results.

My partners and I have amassed a veritable library of sapphic fiction — great stories old and new. We’ve archived many quality works from the past (and will continue to unearth more). We’ve encouraged writers who had laid down their pens to take them up again. Best of all, our humble site has attracted an impressive roster of newer authors… and 2017 has seen what once was a mere trickle of submitted stories build into a steady stream, one that sometimes feels like a flash flood. Honestly, we’re busier with Juicy Secrets than ever!

It’s a lot of work, maintaining a site like this so that it consistently meets the high standards we set from Day One… but it’s a task done out of love for lesbian erotica, pride taken in making our humble corner of the internet the very best it can be, but mostly our desire to please you — to quicken your heartbeat, get your juices flowing and, most importantly, bring you orgasms of wall-shaking intensity.

All honor to my beautiful and talented partners, Naughty Mommy and Cheryl; to the dozens of fine authors whose works grace our site; and to you, our readers. Your ideas, your suggestions, your energy, your affection and your wonderful selves are the fuel that keeps Juicy Secrets chugging along. May the Great Kahuna rain blessings upon you all.

Naughty Mommy’s message:

Well, another year has flown by — but as people of a certain age like to say, we’re not getting older, we’re getting better! I certainly hope that’s true of Juicy Secrets.

Perhaps we should look back one year and see how much things have changed since our site’s first birthday. As of May 4, 2016, we had published a total of 132 different stories from 47 separate authors. Pretty impressive, right? Well, I’m proud to say that we now have over 200 different sexy stories here — 201, to be exact — from 71 authors! That’s a huge and expanding library of kinky lesbian erotica for you to come here and enjoy reading.

What’s been most exciting to me is the growth in our roster of Other Authors. One year ago we still had only seven of them, to go along with the three of us, your site owners. That meant you were seeing new stories and chapters from ten different writers; very good, to be sure, but nowhere near as good as it could be. Because in the past twelve months, we have welcomed another fourteen excellent writers of boundary-pushing erotica who are now publishing their stories on our site. And, of course, as Cheryl mentioned, these are not just your average hacks, churning out predictable, substandard porn. We are very careful to accept only the highest quality of writing.

I think that’s quite evident if you take a look at some of the truly remarkable multi-chapter entries we have going on right now — like “A Young Desert Rose” by Sunnybunny, “My Family, Friends, and Sex” by Purple Les, “How My Niece Juli Came To Be My Vixen” from Openmindedwoman, “A Girl Named Charlie” by Amanda Lynn, “Bo and Me” by Unfastened Belts, and the latest masterpiece from Girl Lover, “Ultimate Surrender.” All of these are stories you can really sink your teeth into, with intriguing plots, compelling characters, realistic situations, and, oh yes, extremely hot sex. Great, great stuff.

So, are people actually reading all this great great stuff? Indeed, I’m pleased to say that they are, and in increasing numbers too. As the chart below shows (from Google Analytics), we’ve been seeing a strong and steady growth of visitors to the site. You are not alone in enjoying this very special niche-brand of lesbian erotica — there are plenty of us out there!

What will the next year bring? It’s hard to say for sure, but my guess is that Juicy Secrets will publish a whole lot of terrific stories and chapters from even more wonderful authors, and that our beloved readers will enjoy many more satisfying orgasms. As we like to say, keep coming and coming back!

❤ ❤ ❤   Hugs and kisses from Naughty Mommy, JetBoy, and Cheryl   ❤ ❤ ❤

Island of Joys, Chapter 1

  • Posted on May 3, 2017 at 12:03 pm

By Cheryl Taggert 

“It’s going to be a rough night,” the captain said. “Better tie everything down that isn’t already. Big storm’s a-brewin’.”

The three-masted cargo ship sailed on its way to Australia and New Guinea with its load of goods being exported from America to those far-off island nations. The weather, however, could turn a good trip into a bad one much too quickly. As the captain of this vessel, John Stephenson had seen many bad storms try to claim him, but so far he’d survived them all.

The storm that could be easily seen to the west of their ship, however, gave him feelings of dread he’d last experienced when dealing with the typhoon of 1851. He’d barely survived that one. He hoped he would survive this one as well.

He also worried about his four paying guests. They were two women with their young daughters, and this was the first ocean voyage for all of them. He hoped they had more bravery and pluck than he thought.

~~

Mrs. Beverly Lexington was on her way from California to Australia to visit her late husband’s family and allow them to see their granddaughter for the first time. She had managed passage on a cargo ship, and the Midnight Star was one of the most reliable and comfortable ships to be found in San Francisco’s harbor, at least comfortable for a cargo ship. It was a beautiful vessel, over a hundred feet long, and the men who sailed it were some of the best sailors in the world, or at least that’s what others had told her. She wasn’t an expert on ships or their crews. This was the first ship she had sailed on in her life. Having been born in 1839, she had only recently turned twenty-seven, and she had only her nine-year-old daughter, Karen, now that Bert had passed. She had no real family of her own anymore, so the trip to see Bert’s parents seemed the best idea of a number of choices. Perhaps she would settle in Australia and raise Karen there.

The captain had given Beverly the warning about the storm moments before, and the panic that had risen in her threatened to choke her. A storm? It had to be a big one for the captain to tell her this. They had encountered what she thought of as a big storm their second night out from San Francisco, and the captain had said nothing about that one, either in advance or afterwards.

She could see the worry in the captain’s eyes now, however, and that worry magnified itself a hundredfold in Beverly’s thoughts.

“Karen!” she called, moving toward the stern of the boat, where she’d last seen her daughter playing with Susan, the daughter of Mrs. Sharon Hopkins, who had also paid for passage to Australia “to escape a gorilla” she had said. Without being told, Beverly knew Mr. Hopkins had been the gorilla his wife was escaping.

Beverly found she really liked Sharon, who was very pretty and sweet, with long dark hair and eyes the color of milk chocolate. The beautiful woman still sported a healing bruise below her left eye, the only blemish on an otherwise perfect face. The contusion was usually well-hidden by makeup, and Beverly only knew about it because she and Karen shared the cabin with Sharon and Susan. They were also nearly the same age, with Mrs. Hopkins not quite two years older.

Beverly almost ran into Karen as her daughter turned a corner and stopped just short of colliding with her mother. Susan was right behind Karen. Beverly liked the young girl whom her daughter had befriended on the voyage. For one thing, Susan gave Karen a playmate for the long weeks stuck on the ship. Not only that, but Susan was a bit mature for an eleven-year-old, and even Beverly enjoyed talking with her.

She was also glad Karen had a playmate that was just a bit older because it would help Karen mature as well.

“What is it, Mother?” Karen asked, seeing the fright in Beverly’s eyes.

Beverly pointed to the southwest, where dark clouds gathered as if preparing for war. “A storm is coming,” she said. “A really big one. The captain advised me and Susan’s mother to tie everything down that wasn’t already tied down.”

Karen, getting the wrong idea, said, “Are you going to tie me down?” Oddly, the child seemed eager for that to happen. At first, Beverly was shocked at the child’s words until she realized it most certainly had nothing to do with sex. She was only nine, and the thought that the girl had any inkling of the adult meaning of her words was ludicrous.

“No, silly, we must go to our room and do what the captain said and not come out until the storm is over. We’ll just lie in our beds, praying.”

After they had completed the task the captain had requested, they did exactly that.

The storm, which was one of the worst typhoons in nearly a decade, struck the ship with all its fury. Waves crashed over the sides, washing the deck of any loose items that may have escaped being taken in or tied down.

Captain Stephenson steered the ship into the waves to make capsizing less likely, but he was worried that this still might be a fruitless effort. Waves that were much taller than the masts buffeted the ship about like a toy.

Sharon looked at Beverly and the two girls. Fear painted their faces as they did their best to hold tightly to their beds to prevent them from being tossed about like rag dolls. She was more used to danger, having lived with what could only be described as a maniac for twelve years, since she had been only sixteen.

Christopher had been extremely domineering, treating her more like his whore than his wife. The only good thing was that he’d taught her how to live off the land, mostly because he himself had to avoid arrest for the many crimes he had committed, which dictated they camp more than live in a home somewhere, and of course, Christopher had no intention of doing any of the physical labor involved in setting up camp, finding food, or building a fire from nothing. She had learned she was a survivor in more ways than one.

Of course, her survival skills she’d learned reluctantly from the monster she now considered her ex-husband, despite the fact they’d never legally married, didn’t stave off anything like seasickness. All of them lost what little they had in their stomachs within fifteen minutes of the storm’s arrival.

By the time the captain’s order to abandon ship came, they were bruised from being thrown about. The two women and their daughters somehow managed to make it to a lifeboat. The storm was nearly past them now, but the captain had serious doubts that the ship would stay afloat more than another thirty minutes at best. It had been seriously damaged and was taking on water fast.

The seas had calmed from the worst of the onslaught, and the lifeboats would be able to navigate the rough waters without being capsized.

The captain, seeing to their safety, looked around his crew for a likely sailor to row the boat and prevent it from being overturned. He saw Jack, a lead deckhand who had been on the sea for over twenty years. He wasn’t the most pleasant sort, but he was an able seaman, despite his appearance. Jack could only be described as skinny, but he had an amazing amount of strength and stamina for a man built as he was.

The women and girls, along with Jack, set out on the first lifeboat lowered. The other men went about the business of gathering any necessary or helpful equipment they could before leaving the sinking vessel themselves. The plan had been for all lifeboats to remain together until the storm passed completely and plans for rescue could be made, but the sea seemed to desire that this would not happen. Jack, whose lifeboat had been lowered a full fifteen minutes before the next boat had been dropped, could only head south on the lifeboat he was in charge of, and the others seemed only able to row their boats northeast.

Two hours later, they were free from the effects of the storm. Wispy gray clouds and a stiff breeze were all that remained, and the wind was growing weaker by the minute it seemed.

Beverly looked around, casting her gaze over the calmer sea to see if she could spot another lifeboat.

But all she could see was water. There was no trace of any of the others who had abandoned ship.

Now, survival was all that mattered.

That and keeping the deckhand, Jack, at a distance. He seemed to be quite thrilled at the prospect of spending time away from the restraints society placed on men like him with two beautiful women and two prepubescent girls.

As Beverly stared at the miles of water, she could feel the terror form a ball in her chest. They were alone on an ocean larger than America. Survival may seem all that mattered, but it certainly looked in doubt. She somehow managed to stop the tears from coming. She knew she couldn’t let Karen or Susan see her fear. She looked at Sharon and noticed the set jaw of determination. She didn’t know what devils the woman had survived, but whatever they had been, they seemed to have prepared her for the danger they now faced. Beverly gained confidence looking at Sharon’s resolute features.

Darkness came and they spent the night floating aimlessly with the tide. Jack had said it was no use rowing if they weren’t able to see anything in the darkness, lit only by starlight since the moon had set in the early evening.

Jack turned his attentions to his lust as the night grew older and decided to make his first move on Karen. He quietly moved to her side and placed his hand over her mouth and nose to prevent her from screaming. The others were asleep, as it was well after midnight. Jack had spent the evening thinking of the soft flesh within arms reach. Karen was the youngest and most likely to do what he said because she would know her life was in danger if she alerted the others.

He snuggled closer to her, and even in the dim starlight he could see her eyes wide with fright.

“Make no sound or warnin’,” he whispered. “If you do, my knife will end up in your gut.”

Karen could feel her heart pounding in her chest so hard that she feared it would burst through her ribs.

“If you understand and promise not to do anything that would wake them, nod,” he said, and she nodded. She could smell the man’s putrid breath as he spoke.

She felt his hand move to her privates and begin caressing her slit after slipping his rough hand inside her panties, which were the only things she wore beneath her simple cotton nightgown. She had discovered touching that spot could feel good when she was alone in bed, but this did not feel good at all. This felt like being robbed by a madman.

The man’s touches made her want to scream, but she managed to hold it in for fear he would stab her.

Then she felt something that felt a lot like a knife. She could tell he was pushing his finger inside her, and it hurt.

Again, she held off the scream that seemed intent on escaping her throat.

Then she could feel the man doing something with his own trousers and pulling them down. She detected a rhythmic shaking and wondered what the man was doing to himself. She had accidentally walked in on her father in the bathroom one time and knew what a man looked like ‘down there,’ but she could not decide what in the world the man was doing. It seemed as if he might be touching his thing in some way, but she wasn’t sure how. She knew how girls could make themselves feel good, but had no idea how boys or men did since they looked so… different.

Then she was feeling something warm and sticky splatter against her leg. She stifled yet another scream, but it was the man’s own moans that gave him away.

Suddenly, Sharon was awake and screaming at the man, who was now doing his best to fend off the woman’s fists.

“You bastard! Leave her alone!” she yelled.

This woke the others, of course, and soon both Beverly and Sharon were pummeling the man.

Karen, now sobbing, scrambled away from Jack when her mother moved towards the fray. Susan held her friend, and the girls sobbed in fright as the fight continued. Wild thoughts of what would happen if the man won the fight sent both girls into a near panic. They understood that if their mothers lost this battle, he would kill both women and only Satan himself would know what would happen to the girls.

The fight continued for several minutes. In the course of the battle, Jack managed to grab Sharon’s nightgown, the only garment of any kind she now had with her, and rip it off.

Naked now, Sharon continued to pummel Jack and scream at him, as did Beverly. Jack had dropped the flimsy cloth of the nightgown into the ocean.

Beverly noticed the man’s knife in its sheath, which was tied to him by a belt. Reaching for it while Sharon continued to hit Jack, Beverly managed to remove the blade from its cocoon, and without thinking she plunged the knife into him, not caring whether or not she killed him.

A loud “Ooomph!” was all they heard from Jack, and he lay back in the lifeboat, blood spurting from his aorta.

He was dead seconds later.

Beverly dropped the knife and heard it clatter against the boat’s hull before she sat beside the girls and began weeping herself, the danger of what they’d just done only now occurring to her in all its horror. Sharon sat beside her new friend and did her best to comfort her.

“Don’t worry. You were saving us all. He’d have killed us if we hadn’t managed to kill him first.”

The weeping continued until all were cried out, like limp, wet rags that were now spread along the hull of the lifeboat. Sharon stood and managed to push the dead man’s body overboard.

“We need to start rowing,” Sharon said. “Daylight is coming.”

Beverly and the girls looked around them as if they had not been aware of their dire circumstances. The sun was just below the eastern horizon, and they could see well enough now to move the boat along. They needed to find shelter and food or they would die at the hands of cruel nature instead of the hands of Jack.

They spotted land, a hazy shadow in the distance, soon after the sun rose that first day. They celebrated their good fortune and rowed the lifeboat in its direction, hoping it was inhabited by friendly people. It didn’t appear to be a large island, but it was land, and the women hoped that there would be safety there.

Sharon and Beverly took turns rowing the boat, with Sharon taking a longer shift because she had more physical strength. The girls said they would be willing to row, but the women thought the currents were too strong for the little girls to be able to battle successfully to keep the small boat steered toward the island, which was now noticeably closer.

Around midday they beached the lifeboat on the shore of the island, which was actually the largest of several of a small archipelago. The other islands were tiny and obviously uninhabited. None of them knew where they were, only that they were somewhere in the South Pacific Ocean between San Francisco and Australia. One thing they did know, and that was they would have to get used to the blazing sun. They were all quite sunburned now, with Sharon’s being the worst since she was naked.

They sat in the shade of some trees and rested until the sun was not so glaring. They had discovered a large, leather pouch in the storage compartment of the lifeboat, and were thankful to find several gallons of water and dried meat inside, along with several other tools, including a hatchet, another knife, and a whetstone. They weren’t used to such fare for meals, but they enjoyed what scant portions they ate as if it were a Christmas feast. They carefully stored the remaining meat and water in case it took time to find fresh water and food on the island, which appeared to be uninhabited except for them.

Also inside the pouch was a cream that was good for sunburn. Sharon put the cream on most of her body before asking her daughter to apply it to her back. The sting of the burn dulled shortly after the cream had been applied. There were several bottles of the cream, and Beverly and the two children applied some on their faces, arms, and feet where the sunburn for them was the worst.

As they sat in the shade, Beverly had little to do but worry. How would they survive? What would they eat? What if they were unable to find fresh water? They had salt water that stretched endlessly, but they couldn’t drink that. She even began to wonder if perhaps dying at Jack’s hands may not have been a better fate in that their deaths would have at least been quick. The death she was staring at now was a slow and painful one. Nature would be unsympathetic, and the torture that would precede their deaths would be far worse than anything Jack could have inflicted.

Finally, Beverly decided if she continued to sit there and contemplate their situation she would go insane. She rose suddenly and said, “You three stay here and see if you can make some shelter. I’ll go see if I can find signs of civilization, or at least human life. I’ll also see if there’s any food and a supply of fresh water around.” She walked deeper into the trees and bushes of the small jungle that surrounded them.

“Don’t get lost!” Karen shouted after her mother, sounding truly worried.

Beverly turned and said, “It’s a very small island. I don’t think I could get lost if I tried.”

About ninety minutes later, Beverly returned. “I see no evidence of any other people on the island.”

“So we’re… stuck here?” Karen asked, panic beginning to rise in her chest and speaking before Beverly could finish her report of her findings, many of them having helped her to relax.

“I’m afraid so. At least for now,” Beverly said.

Sharon interrupted Karen’s thoughts before they could plunge into panic. “Don’t worry. We’ll survive. It will be fun sleeping under the stars.”

The two young girls exchanged a glance indicating to each other they weren’t so sure about that.

Just as Beverly was about to fill everyone in on what she’d found on the island, she noticed what the other three had accomplished during her absence. Sharon, with the girls’ help in gathering materials available in the nearby jungle, had built a rather well-constructed lean-to for shelter while Beverly was out exploring the island. It would not be good enough for permanent shelter, but it was sturdy enough for them to use for a week or two while they tried to construct something better and more permanent.

Beverly looked at Sharon in astonishment. “Where did you learn to do that?” she asked.

“Do what?” Sharon asked then turned her gaze to the lean-to. “Oh, that? It’s easy if you know what you’re doing.”

Beverly stared at Sharon. “So, where did you learn to… ?” Her question died on her lips she was so shocked the woman was able to construct such a solid-looking temporary shelter so quickly.

“My ex-husband insisted I learn how to survive off the land. He –” Sharon stopped and looked at Susan, but the girls seemed preoccupied in a quiet conversation. Sharon heard Susan mention her father and figured she was filling Karen in on their lives with the man both of them were running away from. “He was always on the run from the law, so we spent many weeks — months even — living outside in campsites I had to build and maintain.”

“He didn’t build them?” Beverly asked, astounded a man would make a woman do the physical labor necessary to survive in the wild while he did nothing — if that’s what had happened.

“No,” Sharon said. “He never lifted a finger to help.”

“He was that bad a husband?” Beverly asked, her jaw slack with disbelief.

Sharon thought about it for a second before replying, choosing to look at the distant horizon instead of her new friend when she did. “No. He was worse. Much worse.”

“I’m so sorry,” Beverly said. “You said he would hit you, but I had no idea he would not even do something so simple as help out, especially if he was the reason you had to ‘live off the land,’ as you say.”

Sharon approached Beverly, and as she did Beverly noticed the woman’s figure for the first time. Well, at least for the first time that caused a stirring in her loins.

“He did more than beat me. He made me his slave. I was required to do his bidding at any time. He made sure I knew how to survive when even the most basic of needs were not available. That’s why I know we’ll be fine. I know how to survive in situations like these. So nobody need worry about that. We’ll be fine. We’ll eat. We’ll drink. We’ll survive.”

“I almost forgot!” Beverly said. “There’s a stream that flows from a small mountain near the center of the island. It’s fresh water!”

Sharon smiled. “See? I told you not to worry. I know how to trap animals, and I’ve noticed quite a few just around our little encampment. I can also fashion a fishnet to catch fish to eat.”

Beverly smiled for the first time in a long time, it seemed, which made her forget to tell what else she saw on her short excursion. Adding to her forgetfulness, she had noticed Sharon on the ship when she would prepare for bed. They were all females, and while nudity wasn’t commonplace exactly, it was not avoided when it was necessary. She had found herself daydreaming about the attractive woman, and her daydreams were rather naughty, to say the least. She had forced herself to stop thinking of the woman in that way as she lay in bed with her daughter. Otherwise, she would have never been able to get to sleep on those nights with the desire that was moistening her pubic area until she forced her thoughts elsewhere.

She had enjoyed a brief dalliance with a girlfriend when she was an adolescent, but she thought she had outgrown that. The friend had taught her the most wonderful things she could do to herself, and she had been a lifelong devotee to such self-provided pleasures.

She had even frequently given herself pleasures during her marriage, though she never let her husband know about how she loved to touch herself. The truth was that Beverly was a highly sexual woman. Since Bert’s death, she’d been forced to relieve her sexual tension by herself in bed at night, nearly every night in fact. She had stopped recently only because she had to share her bed with her daughter and her bedroom with another woman and the woman’s daughter. She had hoped to meet another man in Australia, but that would have to be put on hold for the time being — maybe forever.

It seemed now that survival wasn’t at the forefront of her thoughts, her sexual appetite had returned. And as she continued to consider Sharon’s beautiful body, she realized she would need to be alone soon.

That thought frightened her and she felt a blush creep into her cheeks. She could not imagine herself going without sex with a partner for years. Looking at Sharon, she wondered how sexual the woman was and if these same thoughts had invaded her mind as well.

Sharon suddenly became aware of her nudity. She felt Beverly’s eyes on her body and, embarrassed, suddenly began to cry. Beverly moved to sit beside her to soothe her, putting an arm around her and holding the woman’s head to her shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Sharon said. “I’m being silly. It’s just that I feel so… awkward. I’m sitting here as naked as the day I was born, and the three of you are in your nightgowns. It makes me feel as if I don’t deserve clothing, or something.”

“No, please, Sharon,” Beverly began. Then a thought occurred to her. She didn’t think the girls would mind.

“I know! Let’s all go naked! I’ve heard of people who live their lives in total nudity. We can just do that until we are rescued.”

Sharon looked at Beverly and was about to protest when she heard giggles from the girls, who stood and immediately began to strip off their gowns. In a matter of seconds, they both stood with arms and legs outstretched, forming human X’s and showing off their naked bodies.

“But –” Sharon began, but silenced herself as Beverly stood to disrobe.

Sharon had noticed the beautiful woman and wondered if she ever liked to have fun in bed with other women. She had never acted on the fantasy she had of having sex with a beautiful woman, but now that fantasy took charge. She could feel a moisture and tingling in her vagina as she watched Beverly becoming naked.

The woman’s breasts were lovely, capped by pink nipples as big around as a plum. She noticed the flesh of her nipples stiffen as they came into view. It was hardly cold, not even the slightest bit cool, and there was nearly no wind at all. Sharon wondered if perhaps Beverly was thinking the same things she was.

Glancing down at her own breasts, she saw that she was also showing evidence that she was sexually excited. Her brown nipples were like small twigs protruding from the chocolate colored, cherry-size areola.

When she looked back at Beverly, she could tell that the woman had noticed her checking herself. Beverly instantly checked her own nipples and saw the evidence there. She felt the girls would not know what the erect nipples indicated, but she knew that Sharon knew.

Their eyes met and they each knew what the other had been thinking. Beverly felt her mouth go dry, and not only from thirst. She suddenly wanted to renew the joys she had experienced with her friend when she was thirteen. The friend with whom she had enjoyed her first orgasms — orgasms her friend had taught her how to achieve.

Even her first kiss had been with her friend and not with a boy.

Beverly needed to affirm life by experiencing that joy again. And based on the condition of Sharon’s nipples, Beverly felt the other woman was feeling the same way.

Beverly looked at Karen and Susan. The girls were openly admiring the naked bodies of the two women. Susan was especially interested in Beverly’s nude form.

Beverly realized that even if Sharon were interested in her sexually, it might be difficult to get away from the girls long enough to enjoy themselves.

She sat beside Sharon and exchanged a knowing look with the beautiful woman once again, her eyes darting to the woman’s erect nipples before returning to Sharon’s similar gaze, which verified that they were thinking the same thing, which was, “Yes, I want to, but how will we do that with the girls around?” Beverly had never been so sure of another person’s thoughts in her life.

“Well,” Sharon said, breaking the spell without eliminating the desire. “Now that the question of what we should wear has been settled, I say we move along to the question of food.”

“Oh!” Beverly said, her eyes widening as she remembered what she’d not mentioned yet. “I forgot to tell you what else I found on the island! When I was exploring, I saw a lot of fruit trees and coconut trees. There appear to be plenty of mangoes, bananas, oranges and such,” Beverly said. “If you go several hundred feet into the forest there,” she said, pointing, “you will find a grove with various fruit trees.” Beverly looked at the girls, but then she looked at Sharon as she said to the girls, “Why don’t you two girls go gather some for us? You can’t miss it. Just walk in a straight line into the trees.”

The girls howled in joy and bounced up and down to celebrate this news. Meanwhile, Sharon knew this had been designed to allow them a moment without the nine- and eleven-year-old girls present. She decided to broach the taboo subject. Here they were, two young, beautiful women without a man in sight. They had normal desires, despite what men would expect of a proper “lady,” and Sharon knew that seeing to those desires could get quite tricky in their situation, whether alone or with a partner.

After the girls had walked carefully into the jungle, stepping carefully with their bare feet, Sharon looked at Beverly and said, “I may end up embarrassing myself beyond being able to ever look you in the face again, but… did you and I just, well, feel something between us?”

Beverly knew exactly what her friend meant. Their eyes had said what their mouths couldn’t. She blushed deeply and looked at the ground. “Should I be ashamed?” she asked.

“Of course not. We’re two healthy women. Men may think we never feel desires like the ones they feel, but I, for one, feel them deeply,” Sharon said, reaching to touch Beverly on the shoulder to ease her embarrassment.

“Yes, I know what you mean,” Beverly said. “Since Bert died I’ve… well, I’ve done things. To myself, I mean. I often imagine he’s still alive, that he’s the one touching me. I have to admit those weren’t the first times I had done that.”

“Have you ever… done anything with another woman?”

“You won’t hate me?” Beverly asked.

“Of course not.”

“I’ve not done it with another woman, exactly. It was with a friend of mine when I was about thirteen. We would, well, touch each other and, um, touch ourselves. We had our first sexual peaks with each other,” Beverly said, glancing at Sharon to make sure she had not been repulsed by the confession.

Sharon gave her own confession. “I’ve never been with another girl or woman, but I’ve thought about it many times, usually while touching myself.”

“I have to wonder how long we will be stranded here. It could be for a very long time,” Beverly said, her heart pounding a fast rhythm against her ribs as she wondered if they might actually do something sexual together. She longed to touch Sharon intimately, to feel that physical closeness with another human being.

“I was wondering the same thing,” Sharon said. “And –” She stopped short of making the suggestion both women wanted.

“And?” Beverly asked, prodding Sharon to continue her thought to the end.

“And I wondered what it would be like if we… well… you know. Did things together instead of alone.”

“It won’t be easy with the girls around,” Beverly said.

“But you want to?” Sharon asked.

Just at that moment, Karen and Susan burst from the trees, their arms loaded with fruit.

Beverly looked at Sharon and whispered, “Definitely. But we’ll have to be careful.”

Continue on to Chapter 2

I Was the Daughter of a Porn Star, Chapter 86

  • Posted on April 27, 2017 at 7:32 pm

The Good News, the Wedding, and the Seduction

By Cheryl Taggert 

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

The night before we left on our flight to Amsterdam for the wedding, Jenna got a call that brought both sadness and utter joy. Carmen, Clare’s younger sister, called to say that Clare had been arrested for attempted blackmail, extortion, and raping a female minor. I was sad for Carmen, who loved her sister despite her many problems, but I was thrilled that my long-time enemy had finally gotten what she deserved.

According to Carmen, Clare had attempted to blackmail a professor for both good grades and cash. She had stayed after a class that was held at night in what was a mostly deserted building at that time of the evening. She stayed to talk to the professor, and after talking to him for about a half hour about how she might improve her grade, she told him that if he didn’t give her an “A” in the class, along with $10,000, she would tell the police he had raped her when she’d stayed for help with the class.

The professor went along with her, pretending to agree to her demands. However, when she came to collect the money, she was met by the police instead. Not only that, but she was stupid enough to have a video in her car that she had made of her forcing a little girl to bring her to an orgasm. The girl had cried and said she didn’t want to do it, but Clare threatened to kill the girl’s cat if she didn’t.

It was likely Clare would be going to prison for quite a long time. I was sad for her family, but I had always known that girl had something terribly wrong with her. I was also very upset about the little girl Clare had forced to do things to her. I had never forced anyone into sex and never would. Yes, I had successfully seduced a few, but they were always willing to play with me, and every single one of them enjoyed what we did.

Clare’s tactics made me sick to my stomach. She was nineteen, so she couldn’t hide behind being a minor. Carmen had said Clare had been offered a deal by the DA: 10 years for the blackmail and another 15 for the child molestation charge. The DA was refusing to run the sentences concurrently, insisting on having them run consecutively instead. That meant that she would have to serve a total of 25 years for both charges, especially since two other girls had come forward alleging the same things that were on the video. She wouldn’t be up for parole for at least 18 years, according to Carmen.

I was also sorry that someone who could have been nice to people had chosen to be sadistic to them instead. As I said, she had something drastically wrong with her personality. She just wasn’t right. She seemed to delight in the misery of others. Carmen was nothing like her, and while I was sad for Carmen, I also knew she wouldn’t have to put up with the ugliness Clare had forced upon her own sister. I thought that in the long run, Carmen would end up happy her sister was no longer there.

That night Lisa and I talked about Clare for the last time. We were both happy she could no longer cause us any more problems, but we were also sad that she had chosen the path she did. We’ve not spoken of Clare since that day. We were rid of her, and that was that.

The following morning we all rose early to catch our flight, which left Los Angeles International at 1:45 that afternoon. We would be flying to Amsterdam non-stop on United Airlines, arriving at 9:05 the following morning, over ten hours of flying time and through multiple time zones, which accounted for the overnight aspect of the flight. The wedding would take place the following afternoon in the hotel where we would be staying, the Hotel Andaz Prinsengracht. That was not far from the Anne Frank House and Museum, which I’d always wanted to visit. We would be checking out of our hotel three days later, allowing everyone to enjoy the beautiful city. From there, Lisa and I would fly to London on British Airways, while everyone else flew back to Los Angeles, which was nine hours earlier than it was in Amsterdam. Those flights would land in Los Angeles only about three hours later than they took off due to gaining the nine hours flying west.

The flight to Amsterdam was uneventful, which made Mom really happy, but it was LONG! I thought we’d never get there. Lisa and I had chosen to wear identical wedding gowns. We’d picked them out and had them shipped to the hotel a week earlier to avoid having to worry about them on the flight. The hotel had agreed to have them pressed and ready for us when we arrived.

The gowns were a pastel blue, the color of the sky when there are thin clouds softening the stark blue color of a clear sky. The veils were silk lace, and the A-line dresses were tulle with tulle lace trains. We had decided on sleeveless gowns, but we wore long blue gloves that were a shade darker than the dresses.

In other words, they were gorgeous!

I had balked for the required ten seconds about the costs of the wedding, but Mom assured me it was fine, so I didn’t think about it again.

When we arrived at the hotel, we were exhausted from the trip. Mom had insisted that Lisa and I not share a room until after the wedding, saying it was bad luck to see each other the day of the wedding until we walked down the aisle. Mom walked me, and Lisa’s mom walked her. We flipped a coin to see who would walk first. Lisa won the toss, so she got her choice, which was to walk first. Thus, she became the “groom” and I became the “bride,” since the “groom” is the one waiting for the “bride” to appear and walk down the aisle.

Just because we weren’t staying in the same room, however, didn’t mean we didn’t talk on the phone. We kept the room phones occupied all the day we arrived and into the night. I was too nervous for sex, a miracle unto itself, so while we considered phone sex, we never actually did anything until after the wedding.

Then July 8 was here at last. At some point during the hectic wedding day, I managed to grab a bite to eat, a sandwich and a beer. Then I promptly threw up from nerves. Lisa told me she hadn’t eaten anything for fear she might throw up in the middle of the ceremony. We really chowed down after it, though. It was fully catered and the food was delicious.

The ceremony was quick and beautiful. Both Lisa and I joined nearly everyone else and cried throughout the wedding, each having difficulty reading the vows we had written. Then, as quickly as it began,it was over.

After pictures and such, we changed clothes and partied and danced until late that night. We both got quite drunk and nearly had sex in the middle of the room where we had the reception. That would not have gone over well, especially since Lisa’s dad was there. It was kind of funny, really. He was the only male in the entire wedding party. Every single other person at our wedding was female. Lisa had invited her uncle, but he and his family couldn’t make the trip with the exception of Lisa’s cousins, Joanne and Crystal, who were bridesmaids in the wedding, along with Rachel, who was Lisa’s maid of honor, of course.

I’d never met Joanne and Crystal, but I liked them. Joanne was seventeen and Crystal fifteen. To say they were cute would be a vast understatement. I could feel my pussy getting wet just watching them dance.

During our featured slow dance, our first of the reception, I asked Lisa about them.

“Are they at least bi?” I whispered in her ear.

“Who?” Lisa asked.

“Your cousins.”

“I don’t know, really.”

“What do you know?”

“I know they have each been with a girl, but I don’t know if they’re still into it.”

“Oh? Who?” I asked, my hopes rising.

“I’ve done it before with Joanne, and Rachel’s done it with Crystal, but that was a couple of years ago.”

“Did you all do it together?” I asked, hoping for a yes.

“No. Joanne and I were in our room, and Rachel and Crystal did it down at the beach.”

“I take it Rachel told you about her encounter?”

“Yeah. We wanted to see if we could get together for a foursome, but that never happened.”

“How old were you all?” I asked, wanting to picture it.

“Let’s see. I was fifteen, so Joanne would have been fourteen. That would make Rachel and Crystal thirteen and twelve, respectively.”

My mind seemed to explode with the images that were rolling around in my head.

“So you don’t know if they ever did it together?” I asked.

“Nope. It only happened that one summer when they visited for a couple of days.”

“I would have thought you would be closer with them since you had them as bridesmaids.”

“We’re close. We just never had an opportunity after that, and the next time they visited, Joanne acted like we’d never done anything together. I think she may have been sort of embarrassed by it.”

I glanced over at Joanne, who was watching us intently. “I guess she might be remembering that time with you now. After all, we don’t hide that we’re lesbians.”

Lisa laughed. I looked at the crowd that had gathered around us to watch our first “official” dance together as a married couple. There were smiles and soft chatter. They could see Lisa and I were talking about something that was amusing to us both. I got Jenna’s eye and tried to cut my eyes over towards Joanne and Crystal, who stood together watching us dance. I wanted her to start up a conversation with them if she could.

She didn’t understand my eye motions, though. Either that or she didn’t notice them. She just stood where she was and smiled at us. Love seemed to be emanating from every pore of her body.

The song ended and I kissed my wife. She was happy to kiss her wife back. Our tongues became busy until Mom came up to us and said, “Okay, you two. That can wait until you’re in your room.” She was smiling, but she meant it. She didn’t want us to make a spectacle of ourselves in front of people who weren’t as used to a spectacle like the one Lisa and I could give them.

Lisa made her way to the booze and I went straight to Lisa’s cousins.

The way Joanne was looking at me told me she had been fantasizing about me. She might as well have worn a sign announcing she was interested in a little game of sixty-nine with her cousin’s wife. Crystal was all giggles and stares. Perhaps they had discussed me during the dance when I was discussing them?

“So,” Joanne began, “you’re a lesbian.”

I laughed. “Well, if I’m not, I just made a huge mistake.”

She and Crystal laughed at that, and I noticed while we talked that Joanne’s gaze kept dropping to my cleavage. Not that I have much of one, but what I did have, she was interested in.

Lisa walked up, some sort of mixed drink in her hand.

“Having a drink?” I asked. “And you didn’t bring me one?”

“I didn’t know what you’d like. There’s a full bar. And this is already my second one. Maybe you should catch up.”

Damn. She must have downed the first one rather fast. I’d only been separated from her for about two minutes.

“I’ll get you one,” Crystal said, all eyes and smiles. “Whatcha want?”

“I’ll have a rum and coke,” I said, and she was off, leaving me marveling at how this girl was so eager to do for me. Then it hit me. She was obviously nursing a big crush on me. She was fifteen now, certainly old enough to recognize desire when she experienced it.

We chatted for a bit until Crystal returned. “I got you a triple. Now Lisa has to catch up to YOU!” she said.

I tasted the drink and nearly gagged. It was almost pure rum. Oh, well, I thought. Down the hatch! I tipped the glass back and downed it without stopping.

“I think my wife is intent on getting drunk tonight,” Lisa said. “That’s good. I didn’t want to get drunk all by myself.”

A minute later, Crystal was there with another rum and coke for me. This one a double. I grinned at her eager face. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you were trying to get me drunk and take advantage of me.”

She giggled nervously, her blond hair quivering with delight. Only a fool could not see that I’d basically hit the nail on the head.

I leaned over to her after downing that second drink, now having consumed the equivalent of five mixed drinks. I whispered in her ear, “While I do plan to get drunk, you don’t have to get me drunk to take advantage of me.” I leaned back unsteadily and she was blushing. I leaned in again.

“Do you know I’m the best pussy licker in Europe?” I whispered to her, leaning down to her ear again to avoid anyone else hearing me.

“No,” she said, giggling.

“I suppose you’ll want me to prove it,” I said and laughed. I was already fairly drunk, and somehow I had obtained yet another double rum and coke. I was well on my way to becoming shit-faced, as was Lisa.

She giggled again. I looked at my wife, and she was extremely close to Joanne, nearly rubbing herself against her.

I looked back at Crystal, who had a drink for herself. I wondered if it contained alcohol. I leaned close to her and found I could smell rum on her breath. She was getting rather tipsy herself. I said, “Lisa tells me you and Rachel got intimate a few years back.”

Crystal’s mouth dropped open in amazement. “How did she know about that?”

“I would assume Rachel told her. But that’s okay, Lisa also told me she and your sister did the dirty deed as well.”

“Yeah, I know about that.”

I may have been drunk, but I figured out easily enough how she’d known that. “Joanne told you, right?”

“Yeah. We share everything.” Her gaze told me she didn’t just mean their clothes.

I looked at Joanne and said to Crystal, “Is your sister a good pussy licker too?”

“Uh-huh, but not as good as me,” the girl said. She was breathing rather unsteadily, and I wanted to kiss her but was not drunk enough to do that in front of the entire wedding party. Then she said, “I guess you’ll want me to prove that.”

Then Lisa and Joanne were there. Lisa said, “Joanne and I have been rehashing old times together, if you know what I mean.”

“I do,” I said. “I was just talking to Crystal here about those old times she had with your sister.”

“Joanne says she wants to see our honeymoon suite,” Lisa said and looked at Crystal. “What about you? Do you want to see our honeymoon suite?” Crystal nodded. The girl was so turned on, I thought she might just come right there.

Lisa looked into my eyes. “Shall we show them?”

“Absolutely,” I said. “I hope nobody comes looking for us.”

 ”I don’t know if anyone will come looking for us,” Lisa said, “but they might when they find us.” We all laughed loudly st her play on words.

“They’ll get quite an eyeful if they do,” Joanne said through her laughter.

Lisa looked around and said, “Cheryl and I will leave first, as if we”re just going to our room for a minute. People will probably think we went to have sex, which of course we are. You two wait two minutes and follow us. We’re in suite 7 on the third floor. Just knock.”

Lisa took my hand and we departed for our suite. When we got there, we stripped our clothes and waited. A few minutes later, a tentative knock sounded at the door. I opened the door, standing there totally nude in the open doorway. If anyone had walked by they would have seen me revealed to the world. Of course, I didn’t care.

Crystal’s hands flew to her face as she gasped. Joanne pushed her into the room and soon we had them naked as well.

Crystal was very petite. She had small boobs, barely an A-cup. Joanne’s boobs were bigger, but not by much. She was also taller than her younger sister.

“So, confession time,” I said. “You two do it together, don’t you?”

“All the time,” Joanne said. “Ever since that time we visited and we did it with Lisa and Rachel.”

Lisa and I pushed them down onto the bed and started making out with them. For fourteen, Crystal was quite a good kisser. She knew how to use her tongue, moving it enough to be seductive without making it a tongue race, which is common in younger girls who feel their tongue must be in constant fast motion.

I began touching Crystal’s pussy, feeling how wet and ready the young girl was for sex. She reached out for my cunt and began fingering me expertly. She was really a very good lover. She plunged her middle finger inside my flooded vagina while flicking my clit with her thumb. Joanne had taught her well.

I decided I wanted to trib with her, so I got her to sit up and press her pussy against my mound, her body perpendicular to mine. We rubbed against each other and I could feel the wonderful friction sending waves of pleasure throughout my body. My orgasm was mounting and soon I lunged against her as it began from deep within my pussy. She joined me soon after and we lay with each other, panting and doing our best to cool down a bit before we had to get dressed and return to the party that was being given for Lisa and me.

The passage of time since we’d disappeared struck me. I was sure people would be looking for us, and they would almost certainly notice that Joanne and Crystal were missing as well. Of course, everyone there with the exception of Dr. Brown, Lisa’s father, would know exactly what had happened, but I didn’t want Dr. Brown to know we had seduced his nieces.

Lisa and Joanne had opted for a sixty nine, and Crystal and I watched as they approached their orgasms. They looked lovely together, and I felt a sudden wave of love for my wife.

Then that hit me. My wife. We were married, at least as far as the Netherlands was concerned. It was legal there, if not in our own country. Tears of utter joy filled my eyes. I wasn’t sure if the alcohol had assisted in producing those tears, but I don’t think so. I was so much in love I could not hide it.

The moment Lisa and Joanne were finished, I moved to Lisa and took her in my arms and kissed her. The sisters noticed this and did the same thing. Soon, they were at each other, pawing each other’s flesh and generally working toward another orgasm. They were soon in their own sixty-nine and Lisa and I left them there as they licked and sucked each other’s mound, giving each other the ultimate pleasure available to man or woman. I loved watching the sisters making love, but we both knew we had to get back.

I got Joanne’s attention. “Just make sure the door closes when you leave,” I said, and we left them there in the throes of ecstasy.

Entering the large room where the reception was being held, we were met immediately by Marie.

“Everyone was wondering what happened to you two,” she said, looking and speaking mostly to me. “I told your mom you were probably off fucking somewhere.”

I smiled at her. “Very astute of you,” I said, smiling mischievously.

“Then someone noticed Lisa’s cousins were missing too, and I figured you all four had gone off to fuck,” Marie said. “I just thought I’d let you know I’m jealous.” She smiled at me, and I knew she was just kidding. Well, half way kidding, at least. I knew she would have jumped at the chance to get into either Joanne’s or Crystal’s pants.

Then my mom was there, along with Lisa’s mom. “Did you two go off and fuck Lisa’s cousins?” Mom asked.

I shrugged. It was no use trying to deny it. “Mom, they wanted it. Bad. Who was I to deny them such pleasure?”

Donna, Lisa’s mom, grew pale, apparently unaware her nieces were like that. “Where are they now?” she asked.

I figured she might as well know.

“We left them still in our suite in a sixty-nine,” I said.

Donna stood there for a moment, seeming to make a decision. Then she looked at Lisa. “May I borrow your room key?” she said.

“Sure,” Lisa said with a smirk.

Before Donna walked away in the direction of our suite, she said to Lisa, “Not a word to your father about this. Just tell him I said I had a headache and wanted to lie down for a while alone in the room.”

We all watched Donna walk across and out of the large room. Then looking at each other, we laughed.

It seemed we had a total convert to our way of life.

Continue on to Chapter 87

I Was the Daughter of a Porn Star, Chapter 85

  • Posted on April 21, 2017 at 4:41 pm

Wedding and Honeymoon Plans Accompanied by Occasional Orgies

By Cheryl Taggert 

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

I was on cloud nine double-squared. My lover, Lisa, and I were planning to get married. Apparently, many gays and lesbians went to the Netherlands to get married because they were one of the first nations in the world to recognize same-sex marriages. I spent all my free time when I wasn’t studying making contacts to assure we would have no problems getting married there. There was a lot to do, but after about two months, I had it all arranged. I couldn’t wait for July 8, the date we’d set for our wedding.

One of the biggest hurdles was getting passports. I contacted everyone in the wedding party and the guests we wanted to come and let them know they needed to get a passport if they wanted to come too or be in our wedding. Nobody balked at it, but both Deanna and Marie were a little concerned about the cost of the trip. Mom said she’d pay for them to come.

Jenna was beside herself with excitement. She started X-ing out the days on her calendar, counting down until we left for Amsterdam. She, Deanna, and Marie would be my bridesmaids. In fact, Jenna was maid of honor. She was ecstatic.

Then we got the biggest surprise. Mom told me to get Lisa and bring her over for a sleepover so she could present us with her wedding gift. I arranged to pick Lisa up from her house that Friday and brought her over. Mom had us sit in the playroom, naked of course, and she walked into the room carrying a small Union Jack – the flag of Great Britain. She, too, was nude.

I wasn’t sure what she meant at first, and neither was Lisa.

“So, what’s this about?” I asked.

“Think about it,” Mom said.

“Okay,” I said. “I’m thinking about it. But I still don’t know what it means.”

“It’s your honeymoon,” Mom said.

Then it hit me. I stared at Lisa who took about another second to realize what Mom meant.

“You mean it?!” I asked, not ready to believe it until she said it.

“Yes,” she said. “I’m paying for the two of you to spend a week in London for your honeymoon.”

I was flabbergasted. London? She knew I had always wanted to visit there. She didn’t like plane rides, so we never had gone. Of course, she was going to brave the combination transcontinental/transatlantic flight for the wedding, along with the return flights. But that was because it was a special occasion. She had flown to Colombia to rescue Cindy as well when that had been necessary. It was just that she never in her life boarded a plane unless she absolutely had to.

“Oh, Mom!” I cried and leaped out of my seat to hug and kiss her. Lisa stood beside me and waited her turn. When she hugged Mom, my mother gave her a kiss. It wasn’t your typical future mother-in-law kiss. This one had tongue involved.

Mom was horny for my fiancée. I couldn’t blame her. So was I.

Mom and Lisa tumbled to the sofa and continued kissing. I moved to where I could see their pussies as they more or less ground themselves into each other. I reached out and began massaging the sensitive flesh, smearing their juices along the inner labia to make the friction more delicious for each of them.

Inserting a finger from each hand into each cunt, I began to finger-fuck them. They were flooding their juices onto my hand as I plunged in and out. Their sticky cream oozing out of their wet pussies coated my fingers. I inserted a second finger into each vagina, then a third.

They began to moan and thrash about as I fucked my mother and my fiancée. I wanted more.

Removing my fingers to their grunted protests, I cleaned each hand with my tongue. Then re-inserting a finger into them, I withdrew again, this time moving to offer them a taste of each other from my hands. Then I repeated the action before offering them a taste of themselves. I felt like a perverse mother bird, feeding her babies a rather unorthodox, yet delicious, meal.

They pivoted to begin a passionate sixty-nine. Mom was on top and her butt just looked too delectable to ignore. I moved to her ass and spread the cheeks wide enough to allow my face to press against the flesh so my tongue could dance on her tiny rosebud. Of course, she was clean or I never would have gone there. After tonguing her there for awhile, I moved my face down to join Lisa’s assault on her pussy. My tongue managed to flit across my mother’s labia and make brief contact with Lisa’s tongue as she devoured my mother’s cunt. I remained there for several minutes before they switched positions, this time with Lisa on top.

I knew this was a move by my mother to allow me to enjoy Lisa’s ass and pussy while my mother tongue-fucked her. Who was I to deny myself such an opportunity? I moved down Lisa’s back to her butt. Spreading her shapely cheeks, my face insinuated itself between them to tickle my lover’s rosebud and tease her with soft touches from my tongue on her extremely sensitive square inch of crinkled flesh.

Then my head moved as it had before, this time to join my mother’s oral assault on my lover’s pussy. My tongue danced along the soft lips, making erotic contact with my mother’s tongue as she devoured Lisa and drank from the fountain that was nearly gushing her slick juices.

I was suddenly taken back in time and remembered a night Deanna had stayed the night with me. My mom had licked her little girl pussy just as she was licking Lisa’s now. My heart filled with love for my mom, a woman years beyond her time who recognized that when presented with love and affection while honoring the child’s right to decide what was done and what was not done, loving a young girl could be a wonderful experience for both the adult and the child. I recalled the crush Deanna had on my mom and how wonderful my mother made my friend feel, both sexually and emotionally. She had not ridiculed Deanna for the little-girl crush. She had embraced it while allowing Deanna to make the decisions about how far things went, which of course turned out to be all the way to heaven and back.

I realized how wonderful my life had been. How liberated and liberating it was. Lisa had once jokingly asked if my life had been one long orgy, and in a way it had. My life had been an orgy in the sexual sense, but it had also been an orgy emotionally and intellectually. I had been showered with physical love as well as emotional love. My mother had ensured I grew up to be a thinking, questioning person, always seeking to know more and never judging anyone for his or her beliefs, even if I didn’t agree with them. I was a happy person because of this woman, and tears sprang to my eyes as I realized how much she meant to me. She had been more than my mother. She had been my first and most constant lover in every sense of the word. She had never once taken advantage of me sexually or emotionally, despite what many people would think. She had never done anything I didn’t want her to do when it came to my body, nor had she ever forced me to do anything. She made sure I understood it was my body to do with as I pleased when it came to sexual pleasure. She had no rights to it, and the fact she was my mother meant nothing when it came to what I chose to allow.

Plunging my face between Lisa’s thighs, I managed to dislodge my mother’s mouth from my lover’s pussy and kissed my mom with all the love and passion I could feel and show.

As the kiss ended, Mom opened her eyes as Lisa humped her pussy against my mother’s chin. Mom saw the tears in my eyes, and for a moment her eyes registered concern, wondering why I might be crying. I said, “I love you so much!” and sobbed with the sheer emotion that was skyrocketing through my body and landing in the center of my chest.

My mother’s eyes teared up in turn and she said, “I love you, too, Sweetheart.”

“You better get back to licking Lisa, or she’s gonna bruise your chin,” I said with a laugh.

Mom smiled and returned to bathing my lover’s clit with her tongue and the moisture from Lisa’s pussy, and I returned to my lover’s rosebud.

As if she feared another break from the contact we were making with her most sensitive areas might occur at any moment, Lisa began to come, and the orgasm that raced through her body seemed to be vying for the best of her life. She was practically screaming into my mother’s pussy as she came. Bursts of breath and voice echoed between my mother’s thighs. Squeals of total delight punctuated her breaths. Her whole body seemed to tremble and shake as the climax roared, taking over every thought she had, crowding out all other stimuli but the one that was bathing her body in pleasure.

Then Mom came. She, too, seemed to have one of her life’s most potent orgasms. She shuddered and moaned, grunting out the sensations that flooded her body. She spasmed repeatedly as wave after wave of her climax spread throughout her body, racing from her pussy to the ends of her fingers and tips of her toes, only to race back and seem to echo from her clit back out to the farthest reaches of her ability to feel sensations.

After a few moments, they lay together, a heap of satisfied flesh entangled on the sofa, catching their breath and waiting for their heartbeats to slow. Sweat bathed their bodies in thin sheets.

I watched them, feeling more love than I’d ever felt for two people wash over me and emanate from every pore of my being.

Seeing me they unbound themselves from each other and laid me back, as if they had rehearsed their movements instead of acting spontaneously. Their fingers danced lightly over my skin, leaving pathways of goosebumps and sensation. Fingertips played on the pad of flesh behind my knees and dallied along my sides. They devoured me, tasting every inch of my body before settling on a shared tongue bath of my most intimate places. Sometimes my mom was licking my pussy and Lisa my rosebud. Then they would reverse.

When I came, I wondered if their own orgasms had been that good, that complete. I shuddered and trembled as the shock waves rumbled through me. The orgasm went on forever and not long enough.

When we were finished, Lisa and I retired to my bedroom and slept the sleep of the sexually sated. We’d each come only once, but unlike other times, that once had been enough to satisfy each of us completely.

The next morning, I was surprised when Deanna arrived with Marie, who had come down for the weekend to help us plan the wedding and meet this woman who had become the focal point of my entire existence. Lisa and I were still in bed. Jenna had slept in the bed with the twins, allowing Lisa and me to sleep alone together. Everyone else in the house was awake, though still naked.

Marie and Deanna joined us on the bed, not for sex although they were naked now themselves, but just to talk, get better acquainted, and make plans. My dearest friends were duly impressed with and jealous of our honeymoon plans.

The doorbell rang, and Marie offered to see who it was. She slipped out of the bedroom, telling Cindy she would get it when they met each other in the hallway outside my door. Cindy smiled at us and returned to whatever she’d been doing. Jenna and the twins came back into the room and gathered on the twins’ bed. The twins immediately began making out and rubbing each other’s pussy.

When Marie returned, we were all shocked to see a stunned Mrs. Brown and a rather frightened looking Rachel following her.

“Your mom and sister are here,” Marie said, not realizing that Lisa’s mother had not been to my home before, and she had no idea everyone was used to walking around naked. Rachel, of course, was well aware of that, though as it turned out, she thought we only went naked after dark. I’d never bothered to explain to her, but now I wish I had. She might have forewarned us that they were on their way.

“Mom!” Lisa said, covering herself as best she could with the mussed sheets and covers.

I didn’t bother to cover myself, figuring my future mother-in-law had seen at least one of my videos, not to mention having followed a totally unaware Marie and her cute butt from the front door.

I glanced over at the twins’ bed and nearly fainted. Sonia and Sophia were totally unaware of the company and were still kissing each other, each with her hand buried in her sister’s pussy. Jenna had gone to the bathroom.

“Um, well, uh,” Ms. Brown began, attempting to stammer some sort of explanation or apology for coming over unannounced. She gathered herself and adjusted to the fact she was in a bedroom with four naked teenage girls and two eleven-year-olds. “I apologize for dropping by unannounced,” she said. “I had no idea that — I mean — I was not aware –,” she began again, stopping in mid-stammer as she took in what the twins were doing while the rest of us had sat there doing or saying nothing to stop their behavior.

We were caught red-handed. This would take some tricky explanations, to say the least. I prayed she didn’t refuse to allow her daughter to marry me. She’d been thrilled when we gave her the news of our intentions. Now, she may feel differently. After all, we allowed a couple of eleven-year-old twins to engage in lesbian sex as if they were playing Monopoly or something.

The twins were still so involved in their lovemaking they hadn’t noticed we were no longer alone, and that someone who wasn’t supposed to know about them or what we did in our home had entered the room. Lisa’s mother simply stared at them, taking in the hands covering each other’s pussies and rubbing frantically.

“Sonia!” I said, and the girls stopped, their faces registering irritation that I should stop their journey to mutual orgasms. Then they saw Ms. Brown and scrambled to cover themselves.

Ms. Brown looked as if she was going into shock. The color had drained from her face and she stood there, still staring at the bed with the twins now under the covers.

Jenna entered the room and I said, “Jenna, go get Mom.” My sister took in the situation at a glance and hurried to get my mother, squeezing past the woman I hoped would still become my mother-in-law. I guess I should have been more upset, but I also knew Lisa was over eighteen and her mother couldn’t really do anything to stop us. Still, I knew this could lead to some very uncomfortable interactions. I doubted she would have anyone arrested, which was good.

Rachel was standing behind her mother and mouthed “I’m sorry” to Lisa and me. I could tell she was totally sincere. Tears were welling up and she looked as though she might burst into tears at any second.

I could see a sudden realization dawn on Ms. Brown. She turned toward Lisa.

“You’re –” she swallowed before continuing. “You’re not shocked at what they were doing,” she accused Lisa, meaning the twins.

Then my mother was at the door, entering my bedroom and seeing Ms. Brown, hearing the words she’d spoken without knowing their full meaning.

“Shocked at what who was doing?” she asked.

Ms. Brown had never met my mother, though she had confessed to being a big fan of my mom’s movies. I awkwardly introduced her to my mother, who was, of course, naked.

“Ms. Brown, this is my mom, Kayleigh. Mom, this is Donna Brown, Lisa’s mom.”

Only my mom could reach out so nonchalantly to shake someone’s hand without any clothes on and appear 100% comfortable.

She repeated her question.

“I was just saying to Lisa, well noticing really, that she wasn’t shocked that in the bed near where she sits two pre-pubescent girls, identical twins actually, were having sex with each other.”

Mom immediately took in the situation. I realized she felt this whole thing was salvageable without anyone going to jail. I hoped she was right.

“Well,” she said, taking a deep breath. “Everyone out of the room but Lisa, Cheryl, Ms. Brown, and me.”

Marie, who had mistakenly let Ms. Brown and Rachel in, leaned over to me and tearfully said, “I’m sorry. I figured they knew. She told me who she was and seemed so — I don’t know — used to being here, I guess. And I had no idea the twins–” She stopped, clearly upset.

I assured her it wasn’t her fault, though secretly I felt she should have come to get me instead of inviting them in like that, but that was all water under the bridge now.

When we four were alone, Mom came over to sit on my bed and patted a place near her, indicating Ms. Brown should take a seat on the bed as well.

Mom took a deep breath and said, “We’re a unique family.”

“I can see that,” Ms. Brown said.

“Yes, well, you see, we believe in love here.  And when I say love, I mean it in all its various forms. We don’t deny anyone from expressing themselves emotionally or sexually, including the children.”

“You could go to jail,” Ms. Brown said.

“Yes, Donna — I may call you Donna?” Ms. Brown — Donna — nodded. “Yes, every adult here could including Lisa, and I’m afraid you have the power to do just that, but I would ask that you allow me to try to convince you how right our way of raising our children is before you do something rash.”

“I’m not going to be a part of sending my daughter, along with the mother of the woman my daughter adores, to prison, but I would like an explanation,” Donna said before looking at Lisa and me. “Were you raised to enjoy doing things like what I saw the twins doing?” she asked me.

“Yes,” I said. “I was.” She started to look back at my mother, but I continued. “And I’m not crazy or angry or vengeful. In fact, I’m quite the opposite. I’ve learned love in this house. Just last night I began to cry I was so overwhelmed with the love I’ve felt all my life. The joy of being me. My mother raised me to know what love means and how loving someone requires responsibility. That when you love someone, you are responsible for every interaction and the consequences of them. I learned that you have to show that love daily, hourly, and that to love someone means never doing anything to purposely hurt that person.

“I know that learning about sex so young is not the ordinary thing,” I continued, “but look at what the ordinary things have brought the world. We kill each other, hate each other over stupid reasons like skin color and sexual identity. People all over the world are so screwed up because they’re not taught the responsibility of loving others. I learned about orgasms when I was six years old. I’ve enjoyed one of life’s most amazing things nearly all my life. I have no doubt I am loved totally and without any type of condemnation by the people in my family.”

“She’s right, Mom,” Lisa said. I looked at her and she had dropped the covers now. It was a small gesture, but I was so proud of her for that. She was in front of her mother in her most natural state and unashamed to be stripped naked in front of her. “You’ve known for several years that Rachel and I fool around. You’ve done nothing to stop us because you were involved with your cousin when you were a teenager. But the one question you never asked, and a question I would have probably lied about if you’d asked before today, was how young we started.”

Donna looked at her daughter, her expression asking the question.

“We were young, Mom, like nine and seven. We started messing with each other sexually that young.” Lisa teared up as she spoke. “And every moment together has been beautiful. Why do you think we’re still so close? Most teenage sisters our age hate each other, at least some of the time. They fight like feral cats in a struggle over a piece of food. Rach and I never feel like that.”

I looked at Mom, and she had a look of extreme pride in her eyes. I wasn’t waiting for her to fix this; I was taking the lead, and Lisa was backing me up.

“The twins have been loving each other for as long as they’ve been here — even before that,” I said. “I’ve no idea how long, really. When I asked them, they said ‘forever’ and that’s how we’ve always treated it. They don’t remember a time they weren’t loving each other in every way possible.

“My mother began teaching me about my body and the wonderful things I could feel when I was six. Some would call it seduction, but it wasn’t, not at all. She taught me. And I love her dearly for that. I love her for the freedom she gave me. I’ve never been forced to do anything I didn’t want to when it came to sex. Everything I’ve done with my mom and other adults when I was young had to be approved by me, or it didn’t happen. I had a choice, and I always knew I had that choice.”

“Cheryl tells me you have enjoyed some of my movies. Is that right?” Mom said.

“Yes,” Donna admitted.

“Then you enjoy watching others having sex?” Mom asked.

Donna blushed a bit but answered honestly. “Yes, I do as a matter of fact.”

“Are you willing to try something? Just try something for your daughter?”

“What?” Donna asked, but I could tell she already knew the answer.

“Sit here. I’ll be right back.”

After Mom left, Donna turned to me. “You really enjoy this? You enjoy sex with your mom?”

“And my sisters, which includes the twins,” I answered, unashamed.

“What about you?” Donna asked her daughter.

“Yes, Mom. I’ve had sex with everyone in this house, except Cheryl’s friend, Marie, who let you in.” Lisa looked at me and laughed, despite the situation, but we often laugh to diffuse tension. “And if you’d come in ten minutes later, you may have seen me doing something with her,” she said to her mom.

My mother came back into the room with Jenna and the twins. All of them were still naked.

“Girls, Ms. Brown needs to be convinced that what you all do together is beautiful. Are you willing to show her?”

“Yes,” they all said.

“You know you don’t have to, don’t you?” Mom asked.

“We know,” Sonia said, and her twin sister nodded in agreement.

“Would you demonstrate how much you love what you do here?”

The three girls went over to the twins’ bed and lay down. I watched Donna as my sisters began to kiss and touch each other. I doubted a crane could have moved her head to take her eyes from what she was witnessing.

Soon the girls were in the middle of a small orgy. They were in a daisy chain, each licking a pussy.

Donna, I noticed, had begun to breathe heavily. It was turning her on, whether or not she wanted that to happen.

Soon, the girls began to enter their orgasms, Sophia first, followed by Sonia, with Jenna successfully holding off until they both had neared the finish of their climaxes before starting her own.

By this time, Donna was perspiring and seemed shaky. Her breath was coming in near gasps.

Then, without warning, she started to come. An orgasm rippled through her body as she watched my sisters coming. She’d not touched herself at all, but I decided she must have been squeezing her thighs together, or she could have totally spontaneous orgasms. Either way, it didn’t matter; the result was the same.

Blushing, Donna looked over at Lisa, who was both surprised and elated.

“It’s okay, Mom,” Lisa said. “We all do it. I’m glad you enjoyed it. I can sure tell you I did, though I’ve not come yet. And to be totally honest, Rachel would have loved it, too.”

“But what would you think of me if I joined them?” Donna asked Lisa.

“That you are finally a totally liberated woman,” Lisa said. “And I’d be envious.”

I was shocked to see Donna stand and begin to undress. Soon, she was naked. She blushed at the fact her daughter was watching this, but she didn’t care so much that it would cause her to back out of it. Lisa and I gaped at the lovely woman standing there.

Donna looked at my mom. “God help me, I used to get turned on looking at my daughters in the tub. I’ve masturbated often after bathing them and sending them to bed. Little did I know they were doing things I only dreamed about.” It was a startling confession.

With that, Donna stepped over to the bed and joined my sisters. I looked at Lisa and said, “Go get Rachel.” She rose and scurried out to get her sister. By the time the two of them entered the room, Lisa had obviously filled Rachel in on everything, and Donna was in the process of licking my sisters’ pussies. My sisters were lying next to each other, waiting their turn, as Donna moved from one young pussy to the other, seeming to make up for lost time.

Taking Lisa’s and Rachel’s hands in mine, I led them to the bed where their mom was now licking Sophia. I let go of their hands, and they joined the orgy. Lisa went for her mom’s cunt as Rachel began to suck her mother’s nipples for the first time since she was a baby. I went back to my bed and joined my mother.

Soon, the six of them had moved into family units. Jenna and the twins were again making love to each other, and Donna was experiencing incestuous love with her daughters for the first time. I was struck by the beauty of it, but I was also sad it had taken so long for this to happen. I thought about all the time and love they had wasted.

The two groups had moved into daisy chains, though crowded ones since the bed was large, but not built for six people to have sex on.

After a few more minutes of watching the beauty that was alive on the other bed, my mother and I sank into each other’s arms and began to make love ourselves. I heard the sounds of everyone on the bed reaching amazing climaxes at various times. The orgy lasted for nearly an hour, and by the time everyone was finished, our bedroom reeked of pussy. To me, it was like the best air freshener in the world, though.

This had been a most amazing day.

My life, as I had always suspected, was charmed.

Later, we all sat around and talked about our lives. Then we all moved to the playroom where Marie and Deanna made love to Lisa and me. Donna made love with Rachel. Aunt Emmy, Danni, and Cindy joined in and it became one big orgy — like my life.

Donna ended up calling her husband and telling him she would be staying at our house for the night making plans for the wedding, and he should fend for himself for dinner. She smiled and winked at us when she answered an apparent question from him, “No, it’s okay. I’ve already eaten.”

Yes, my life was perfect. And it would soon become even better.

Continue on to Chapter 86

I Was the Daughter of a Porn Star, Chapter 84

  • Posted on April 16, 2017 at 5:52 pm

Romance in the Rain

By Cheryl Taggert 

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

Author’s note: I have never been to the places mentioned in this chapter. The people of Kingman, Arizona, a real town, may be the friendliest people on Earth. It is not my intent to insult the town or its people. I’m just writing a story.

Before we knew it, spring break was just around the corner. I had decided that Lisa and I would get away for a while, just the two of us, and I would propose to her. Same-sex marriage was not legal yet in the U.S., but it was legal in Amsterdam, and although our marriage would not be recognized in the U.S., I still wanted to marry her. Fuck the laws forbidding two people who love each other from being legally wed because they weren’t a man and a woman. And fuck the bigotry. This was just another case of people trying to push a religious agenda onto a civil event. I had actually laughed out loud in a history class in high school when our teacher mentioned the separation of church and state. I got in trouble, but I didn’t care. All that separation talk was mostly a joke. I’d always said you could tell who the Christians were because they were the biggest hypocrites. Maybe not all of them, but certainly a large percentage.

As the big week approached, I spent a lot of time planning our trip. Most of the students I knew were going to a beach town other than L.A., or even to Hawaii. I had other ideas. I wanted to go on a road trip to the Grand Canyon. I’d never been there, and neither had Lisa. And the time on the road would give us plenty of time to just be with each other.

A week before we were to set off, I finally told Lisa my plans, well other than my plan to propose. Arriving at her house, I rang the doorbell and waited to be let in. Rachel answered the door.

“Hey,” I said in greeting. “Where’s Lisa?”

“In our room studying. Can I come too?”

I smiled at her. “You can come anytime you want! You know how to do that, right?”

She laughed. “You know what I mean.”

“Sure. Where are your folks?”

“Out with friends,” she said with a grin. “Won’t be home til late.”

The look on my face must have conveyed my idea that some fun could be had in their absence.

She sent me a mischievous wink and said, “So, can I come too?”

“Yes, you may. Whenever you wish once we’re in the room.” My meaning was quite clear. This would not be the first time Rachel had joined us for sex, and each time the three of us enjoyed it immensely.

We walked down the short hallway to the room the sisters shared. Entering, I plopped down beside my lover and Rachel crawled up to sit on the bed, leaning back against the headboard. As she did, she slipped her panties off from beneath the short skirt she wore and spread her legs before nimbly adjusting her body to sit in the lotus position, except her feet were just above the knees instead of high up her thighs, which meant her pussy was now spread and in plain view.

“You have some ideas rolling around in your head?” Lisa asked her sister.

“Yeah, I had an idea I would join the two of you having sex,” Rachel answered.

Lisa grimaced. There was no other word for it. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Beside the fact I’m praying to pass my midterm in biology? I started my period today and I’m cramping like shit.” She obviously was in no mood for fun and games today. That wasn’t good, but I knew Rachel and I could still enjoy each other, and I intended to do just that. I was also hoping my news of our journey after the coming week would at least cheer Lisa up.

I glanced at Rachel, who looked back at me and shrugged. I could tell we were both thinking the same thing. Lisa might even enjoy the show.

“Are you at least in the mood for some good news?” I asked Lisa.

“I’m always in the mood for that.” Still, she didn’t put the biology text down.

I reached for the book and gently pulled it out of her hands.

“Hey! I’m studying.”

“I know, but you can stop for one minute, can’t you? One minute lost won’t make you fail the midterm.”

“It might.”

Damn, she was in a bad mood. I looked at Rachel. “You didn’t mention she was being a bitch today,” I said to her.

“I’ve not really seen her until now myself. Busy with my own shit,” she said as explanation.

“Hello? I’m right here!” Lisa said since Rachel and I were talking as if we were alone. “If you have good news, tell me. What is it?” she asked, anxious to hear the news so she could get her textbook back.

“Guess where I’m taking you for spring break?”

That perked her up a bit. “We’re going somewhere for break?”

“Yep. Didn’t I tell you? Oh, no. I didn’t. I guess it slipped my mind,” I teased.

“Where?”

“Oh, all eager now that you know it’s a vacation, huh?” I said, still teasing her and hoping it would get her out of this shitty mood she was in. I love Lisa, but she could be unbearable when she was sick or in pain of any kind.

“Just tell me,” she said, exasperation saturating her tone.

“You’re taking all the fun out of it,” I said.

“Sorry. I just don’t feel very good and I have to study for this midterm that’s tomorrow.” She looked at me. I’m sure I was pouting. “I love you,” she said.

“Not as much as I love you.”

She smiled at that and said, “Oh, yes. And more.”

I leaned down and kissed her. Rachel saw and heard all this and said, “Awww.” She really did like the lovey-dovey stuff her sister and I did.

I got off the bed and began to strip my clothes off while I talked. I noticed Rachel’s grin and knew she was eager to get down to having sex with me, her sister’s lover and soon-to-be fiancée, but nobody knew that yet but me.

“Well, I thought we’d take a bit of a road trip,” I began.

“Where to?” Lisa asked.

“Yeah, where?” Rachel echoed, as if she were going, too.

“I thought we’d head east.”

“Well, that doesn’t exactly narrow things down much,” Lisa said.

“How does Arizona sound? I hear it’s nice in the early spring,” I said.

I could tell from her expression that Lisa had probably guessed our final destination. She seemed wary, as if she didn’t want to get her hopes up too much. “Where… in… Arizona?” she asked.

I grinned. “Do the letters G C mean anything to you?”

Lisa’s mouth dropped open and her eyes bulged. “Oh. My. God. Are you kidding? The Grand Canyon?”

I was naked by now. I tweaked my nipples to make them stiff and said, “Yeah. That is if you want to go. If not, I bet Rachel would join me.”

“Damn straight!” Rachel said, taking off her top and reaching behind herself clumsily to unclasp her bra.

“Forget it,” Lisa said, her eyes still on me, and a smile on her face.

I looked at Rachel. “You know there’s an easier way to put a bra on and take it off, don’t you?”

“Not now!” Lisa said. “When do we leave?”

“Yes, now!” Rachel said. “How? I hate dealing with these damn things!”

I got up on the bed, walked on my knees to Rachel, and reached up to pull the bra straps off her shoulders and arms. I then pulled the cups from her boobs and twisted the bra around so that the clasp was in the middle of her chest. She looked at me as if I’d just performed a miraculous magic trick.

Lisa interrupted. “Damn it! When do we leave for the Grand Canyon? Where are we staying? What should I wear? Tell me!”

Rachel reached down and easily unclasped the bra as if she’d never done it before. She held her bra out as if it were something that had been a part of her body that she’d somehow managed to remove and wasn’t sure what to do about it.

I held out my hand, counting each item on a finger. “Early Saturday morning, a canyon-side room at the Thunderbird Lodge, clothes when we’re outside, nothing while in the room.”

“Oh, my God! Really? This isn’t a joke?”

“Of course not,” I said. “It’s all booked.”

She smiled up at me and crooked her index finger to tell me to come down to where she was. Apparently, her cramps were really bad. I leaned down and she wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me. She held the kiss for about ten seconds, finally releasing me so I could sit down beside her.

“Fuck! I wish my period had waited another day,” she said. She wasn’t the only one.

“That’s okay. You wanna watch?” I asked.

“Maybe for a little bit, but I really do have to study.”

“Suit yourself,” I said. “I’m going to rape your sister now.”

“Can’t rape the willing,” Lisa said. “Especially the very willing.”

“Ain’t that the truth!” Rachel said and reached out to pull me to her.

We began by kissing and tweaking each other’s nipples, massaging the fleshy boob in our hands and just enjoying ourselves. Soon we were lying on the bed and humping each other’s thigh before moving to a sixty-nine.

“I’m going into the kitchen,” Lisa said. “This is too much for me to watch while being unable to join in and enjoy myself.”

With that, she reluctantly left the room. Soon Rachel and I had our mouths sticky with each other’s juices and were close to coming. Rachel’s hips began to rock back and forth as she spurred her orgasm along, seeming to will it into being. Her moans were loud and guttural. Then I was coming, my hips dancing in place as Rachel licked my clit.

Tremors of delight seized her and she joined me in a mad crescendo of ecstasy. Our moans were loud enough I knew Lisa would be able to hear them from anywhere in the house. I felt bad for my lover, but I understood. I could have cramps so bad I wanted to cut my insides out, and apparently she was having a period like that. It was one of those miserable parts of being female that men will never understand.

Afterward Rachel and I lay there, catching our breath and cooling down. I would have gone for more orgasms, but I wanted to be with Lisa. After gaining my sense of balance enough to be able to stand, I began to dress. Rachel reached down and began stroking her clit, obviously bent on coming at least once more. Part of me was envious that she would be able to enjoy more orgasms, but the other part missed my lover, and that was the part I listened to. As I left the room, Rachel was already beginning to moan and her breathing had increased to a needy panting. I glanced at her and saw that she had two fingers pistoning in and out of her cunt, while her pinky was toying with her butthole. The fingers of the other hand were stroking her clit. She was already headed for a massive climax.

I went out and sat with Lisa and helped her study by asking her questions, trying to ignore the sounds of Rachel’s orgasms in their bedroom. Eventually, Rachel came out to join us. Her legs appeared to wobble as she walked into the kitchen.

“You missed it. Both of you,” Rachel said.

“Missed what?” I asked.

“I rode the roller coaster.” That was how we described having a series of multiple orgasms, one on top of the other, as if you were riding a roller coaster with a bunch of hills. When I had them, they seemed to last for five minutes at least.

“I’m happy for you,” Lisa said.

“Not to mention we could hear you squealing,” I added.

We all chatted, interrupted by short bouts of studying, until I had to leave. Their parents weren’t home yet, so I told them to say hello for me.

A week later, I was back at their door early in the morning, picking up the love of my life for a road trip to the Grand Canyon. As I rang the doorbell, I felt it would be a trip to remember all our lives. It was memorable, but not for the reasons I thought it would be. I had intended on proposing, but the how and when ended up being nothing like my plans. And in an odd way, that made it even more romantic and memorable.

********

We set off and picked up the 210 to take I-15 north toward Barstow, where we would catch I-40 East, which would take us to Arizona Route 64 north toward the canyon where the Thunderbird Lodge was located on the south rim. The trip was nearly 500 miles and would take about seven-and-a-half hours to get there, and that was with no stops along the way, so I figured it would probably take us between nine and ten hours, depending on the stops.

It turned out to take us a lot longer than that.

We were nearing Kingman, Arizona, when the car began to act up. It felt as if it wasn’t getting any gas, even though we had over half a tank at that point. We stopped at a roadside gas station and the mechanic looked at it, but not before taking his time looking at Lisa and me. His leer was downright disgusting. I would have driven off without letting him touch the car except that he was, as far as I knew, the only person around that could possibly fix the problem.

“Well, sweetheart, it looks like you may need to stick around here a while,” he said after taking a cursory look under the hood. “It’s lucky I got an extra bedroom,” he added, the toothpick in his mouth doing a small dance with each word.

I looked him dead in the eye and said, “First, we’re lesbians so we have no interest in your spare bedroom, and besides that, we both have the clap, so do you really want to do your best to fuck us?”

It was a bluff, of course, and he saw right through it.

“Come inside here a second,” he said, and started toward the inside of the station.

I was ready to drive off to see what else we might find in the way of help, but Lisa started following the guy and no way was I going to let him be alone with her.

“Have a seat,” he said, and he sat behind his desk where a computer screen faced him. He punched a few keys on the keyboard and smiled a lascivious grin. As he reached for the monitor to turn it around for us to see, I realized what he would show us before we could see the picture.

There I was in all my naked glory, my face buried in Deanna’s snatch. It was the second of our three movies.

“Yeah, I knew you liked girls. I just figured you’d never had a real man before,” he said.

I wanted to use the computer to smash his ugly head in.

I glanced at Lisa and realized I didn’t want to involve her in any of this. I had no idea what might be wrong with my car and wouldn’t know how to fix it if I did know. I decided I would find out if he did.

“So,” I began, “do you know how to fix my car or are you playing poker with a pair of twos?”

He got my meaning immediately. “I guess that depends on what you’ve got,” he said.

“I’ll do a little show for you — just me, alone — but you have to tell me what needs to be done with my car first and you have to fix it.”

“But then you can just refuse to do the show,” he said.

“Not if you have the keys,” I said.

He grinned, and I could see his rotted teeth, making me want to gag.

“What exactly will your show involve?” he wanted to know.

“I’ll pull my shorts and panties down and my top up, letting you see everything, and I’ll do myself just for you. But you have to fix the car first, and you do it for nothing except the show. If the car’s not fixed, I get to kick you in the balls. More than that, I’ll report you to the state police — not the local guys — that you tried to rape me. And my friend here will back me up on that.”

“What about her?” he asked, nodding toward Lisa. “What does she do?”

“She stays out of it. I’m the porn star, not her.”

He thought about it for a second while Lisa said, “Cheryl, no!” I ignored her.

“Where are the keys?” he asked. I pulled them from my pocket and tossed them onto the desk. He picked them up with a quick swipe of his greasy hand. “I don’t get to touch you?” he asked as he stood up.

“Nope. If you even try to touch me or my friend, the whole deal’s off, I kick your nuts into your lungs and call the state police.”

“Okay,” he said slowly, as if maybe he wouldn’t take me up on it. After all, he just had to do his job and I would reward him with a fantasy he could remember until he was too old to get it up anymore, not to mention bragging rights to his friends. I really didn’t care. My guess would be his friends would think he was lying anyway.

Rising from the chair, he said, “It’s probably just your fuel filter. Won’t take a minute to replace it.”

Fuel filter? I never even knew there was such a thing. As he stood, I noticed the bulge in his pants and felt like puking.

“Get ready to do yourself for me,” he said and left the little office to go fix our car.

I glanced at my watch and realized we’d lost nearly a half hour already. With everything that was left to do, I thought it could be another twenty to thirty more minutes before we could be on our way.

He pulled my car into the garage and started working on it. Ten minutes later, he closed the hood and started the car. Whereas it had been running awfully bad before, seeming to want to shut down every second, it now ran smoothly. I assumed he had indeed fixed the problem.

“Why don’t I just konk him in the head and we leave?” Lisa said. “Don’t do this, Cheryl. This guy’s bad news.”

“I know he is, but believe me, he’ll be satisfied and we’ll be on our way soon. You just watch to make sure nobody else comes in.”

He entered the small office as I pushed my shorts and panties to my knees and pulled my top up to reveal my boobs before leaning against a small table in the corner near his desk. He sat down, but not before unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants. I didn’t look at him again. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to even fake an orgasm, which is what I planned to do.

I began by pinching my nipples to get them hard and I started rubbing my pussy as if I were so horny I couldn’t move another step before I came.

I ignored everything except Lisa, who was near the door, looking outside and back at me, silently urging me to come on already. I noticed her gaze would sometimes move to the perv, where I could tell from the sounds that he was jacking off.

After about three minutes, I began making sounds that would make him think I was getting close. Then I began to tremble and moan. It was all acting. I’d not grown up watching my mom without learning at least a few things about the craft. I heard him grunt and knew I could finish now. I faked an orgasm and was finished entertaining this slug.

Feeling like a whore, I pulled my shorts and panties back into place and re-situated my top. I held out my hand. “Keys,” I said, doing my best to sound menacing in case he wanted more. But I’d been right. Once he’d come, he wasn’t so interested anymore. He tossed them onto the desk and I picked them up, disgusted by the feel of the heat that had been transferred to them from his hand.

We got in the car and drove off as fast as we could without risking getting pulled over. No telling what we might have to do if we got arrested.

We passed two more auto-fix-it places as we left town, and I felt like kicking myself for not at least trying to find another mechanic. It had seemed like an easy enough thing to fix. Just our luck the first place had housed the local perv.

We drove along, discussing our little misadventure, and finally arrived at our exit for Arizona highway 64, which would lead us to Grand Canyon Village and our hotel. I felt instant relief. We were running over an hour later than I’d anticipated, but we would be there soon.

I should have learned not to count my chickens before they hatched. After we were on that highway for about four miles, I heard a popping sound and felt the car start wobbling suddenly. In a slight panic, I steered to the side of the road and we got out, searching for the problem. It didn’t take long. The right front tire was flat. I did a quick inspection and found a large, flat piece of metal in the tire, which had caused a small blowout.

I wanted to cry. I’d changed a tire once in driver’s ed, but not since, and I honestly didn’t think about it much when being instructed how to change the tire then, thinking I would just call my mom and have her send someone out to fix it should I ever be faced with a flat tire.

Now, I regretted that immature decision.

“Can you change a tire?” I asked Lisa.

She looked at me as if I’d just asked if she could perform open-heart surgery.

“Well, I’ve done it before, but only once in driver’s ed,” I said, and went to the trunk and popped it open to get the tire and the tools for doing this. That was about all I could remember from the training I’d had, but I felt that looking at the tools and such might jog my memory. That’s when I discovered the spare tire had gone flat as well while sitting idle in the trunk.

Now I didn’t just want to cry. I did. I could see my marriage proposal going as flat as the tires.

“We should walk back to the interstate. There was a gas station there advertising a mechanic on duty where we got off,” Lisa said. “It’ll be fine,” she said, trying to console the inconsolable.

I accepted that she was suggesting the only solution available and took her hand. “So let’s go,” I said, locking the car doors with the key fob.

We started walking back the way we’d come. I thought about how my mom had promised me a cell phone, which was a fairly new thing back then, as a gift for finishing my first year of college. I needed one now. Lisa didn’t have one either, of course.

About two miles from our destination, I first noticed the clouds gathering. This was insane, I thought to myself. It never rains out here.

But of course, that was when things were normal and I wasn’t wanting to get somewhere so I could propose to the girl I loved with all my heart.

A mile later, the sky opened up and the rain poured down on us, soaking us instantly. We stumbled along, trying to ignore how miserable we were.

I began to scream at the rainstorm like some modern-day lesbian version of King Lear.

NOTHING was going right!

Then we arrived at the station.

It was now closed.

I sat down on the wet pavement of the walkway near the door and sobbed, pouring my soul out in the pouring rain. I felt utterly defeated. I’d planned and planned. I’d made reservations at a romantic hotel that now seemed lost to fate. I’d managed to put on a show for a freak of a mechanic. I’d driven over some sort of metal strip that had caused this latest catastrophe.

My life had turned to shit, at least for the moment. Clare would be happy.

As I sobbed, my lover held me, supportive to the end. Okay, maybe my life wasn’t shit. I still had Lisa.

I looked at her and decided ‘no time like the present’ and reached into my pocket, withdrawing the tiny box. I wanted to propose to Lisa today, and it now seemed imminent we would be sleeping under the awning of this gas station that usually held a mechanic that had now gone home to his wife and family. A man who was dry and comfy. A man who might even get lucky with his missus tonight.

I’d had similar plans, but fate had ruined them.

I got on one knee and ignored the discomfort caused by the pebbles covering the asphalt and pushing themselves into the flesh of my knee. Lisa looked at me from where she sat on the rain-drenched, narrow walkway in front of the door. She had no idea what was happening. I could see in her eyes that being proposed to was the furthest thing from her mind.

But when I opened the tiny box that she’d not yet noticed and held it up, understanding dawned. The diamond wasn’t a big one, just a third of a carat, but it was all I could afford. She obviously didn’t care.

She burst into tears before I could say anything, but I persisted.

“Lisa, you know I love you more than breathing. You mean everything to me, and I can’t imagine my life without you in it. Will you marry me?”

I waited for her response, which was more practical than anything romantic, but that’s my Lisa. Always letting little things like facts get in the way.

“But, women can’t marry women, at least not legally,” she said.

“They can in Amsterdam,” I said.

Her jaw slowly dropped open as she realized what I was saying. “You want to go to Amsterdam to get married?”

“Yes. If you’ll marry me, that is.”

Her hands were pressed against her cheeks as the tears and rain fell over her fingers and down to drip off her hands to her thighs, which were already soaking wet.

She looked into my eyes with love like I’d never seen before and quickly nodded her head a dozen times before taking me in her arms and kissing me.

At that moment, the rain, the flat tire, the closed station, my ruined plans for a quiet dinner and proposal — none of it mattered anymore.

I was officially engaged to the woman I loved.

No, my life wasn’t shit. It was fabulous.

That’s when my luck changed. A car pulled into the station because we’d been spotted sitting there in the rain.

A nice looking couple in their thirties seemed to talk together before the woman rolled down her window and said, “Are you girls okay?”

I smiled at her and nodded my head. “We just had a flat and the spare’s flat too.”

“Where’s your car?” the man asked from the other side of the car through the woman’s open window.

“A few miles up 64,” I said, my arm still around Lisa, holding her close.

He pointed out an air pump, the kind that takes quarters, at one corner of the station’s parking area. “Why don’t we go get the spare and pump it up with air, then we’ll take you back to the car and I’ll even change it for you.”

I was nearly speechless.

We got in their car, apologizing madly for the water that was literally dripping off of us, and they acted as if it was the best thing in the world we were getting their seats wet. They took us to our car, got the spare, returned to the station and filled it with air, and drove back and changed the tire.  I offered them some money for their time and trouble, but they refused.

While her husband changed the tire, the woman asked us, “So what’s your story? What brings you here? The canyon?”

I told the lady about us, including my marriage proposal. She was thrilled. “That’s so romantic!” she said, delighted. I told her she and her husband were restoring my faith in people. I mentioned how a lot of people would have a problem with our sexuality.

She winked at us, saying, “Sweetie, I’m no virgin in that department myself. Lots of messing around in college with my roommates. Just don’t tell Stanley. He has no idea I’ve ever done anything like that.”

I found myself wishing he knew and would let her join us for some sex. She was very pretty and looked as if she’d be a lot of fun.

Soon we were on our way at last. It was dark, but we got to the Thunderbird Lodge without further mishap. Once in our room, we celebrated our new situation.

We were going to be married, legally in some nations though not in our own. We hoped all such marriages would one day be recognized in the U.S. Until then, we really didn’t care. We knew we would be married whether or not our government recognized it.

We made love, pledging our eternal devotion to one another before drifting off to well-earned sleep. The next morning we awoke, naked, in each other’s arms, and picked up where we left off. By that afternoon, we decided to check out the canyon.

It was magnificent. Almost as beautiful as Lisa.

Continue on to Chapter 85

I Was the Daughter of a Porn Star, Chapter 83

  • Posted on April 11, 2017 at 1:03 pm

Pleasures in Thousand Oaks

By Cheryl Taggert 

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

My next interview was scheduled for the following Saturday. It was to be held at the woman’s house. She had told me on the phone that her husband would have to be gone when we met since he had no idea about her past. Her name was Bonnie, and she mentioned on the phone she has a daughter age nine. I knew from her answers to the preliminary questions that she was twenty-six, which means she was only seventeen when she had given birth to her daughter.

Her mention of her daughter, more than anything, intrigued me. Was she hinting she was having sex with her? I told Lisa about how the woman mentioned her young daughter, and she was fairly certain that my suspicions were correct.

I drove to her house, a nice ranch-style home in Thousand Oaks, one of the suburbs that stretch for miles from the city limits of Los Angeles. Bonnie met me at the door, her daughter standing behind her.

The woman was beautiful. She had long raven tresses that cascaded down her back and eyes the color of emeralds. She was striking. She walked with the poise of a model. Her skin was alabaster, and her genuine smile put me instantly at ease. She wore a denim skirt and a halter top with no bra, her nipples noticeably outlined in the fabric.

“Hey!” she said, her Southern accent evident. “Ya’ll come on in.”

We entered the tastefully decorated house, and I stopped to admire a painting of Bonnie and her daughter in the room where she took us for the meeting. They were both nude in the painting, but Bonnie was holding the child in such a way that all we could see of the more private areas of their bodies was a side view of her daughter’s butt, the crack barely visible at the edge of the girl’s buttocks. The child’s leg hung down to hide her mother’s pussy from view, and her arm, draped up to Bonnie’s neck, along with her upper body, hid her mother’s nipples. The painting was as stunning as the woman herself, not to mention her daughter. Glancing at Lisa, I could tell she was already getting turned on. That was good, because so was I.

“Have a seat,” Bonnie said, seeming not to notice our open admiration of the painting. “Would you like something to drink? Coffee? Tea? Wine? Or are you beer girls?”

“Maybe later,” I said.

Lisa said, “No thanks.”

“Well then. I guess we should get started. This here is my daughter, Madison,” Bonnie said, speaking quickly and beaming at the beautiful child. Madison’s hair was identical to her mother’s, though a bit shorter, falling to her shoulder blades, and her eyes were a clear blue. Bonnie had four comfortably padded chairs facing a central point to allow us to see each other as we talked. Madison sat in one of these and smiled demurely.

Bonnie took the seat beside Madison, signaling that the child would be a part of the interview.

“Before you ask any questions, I have to make a coupla things clear.”

“Okay,” I said. “I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable.”

“First, I have to make absolutely sure that whatever I say in here remains private as far as my identity is concerned, or the identity of anyone I mention. I don’t want my personal life known by anyone other than the two of you. In your study I must remain anonymous. That was stated in your ad for volunteers, but I want to make sure we understand each other on that.”

“Of course,” I said. “You will only be known as Jane Doe #2. Any partners you mention will be known by assumed names. And I will never divulge your true identity to anyone. My advisor on this project is a licensed psychologist, and because I am acting under her authority, this becomes equivalent to a sort of doctor-patient privilege kind of thing.”

Bonnie smiled her appreciation, but her next words were rather ominous. “I have to tell you, my uncle is a very powerful man. While I have no evidence to support it, I’m fairly certain he’s killed a few people in his lifetime. And just so you know, he has some cops on his payroll as well, and I’ll know it if you speak to them about me.”

The meaning behind what she shared about her uncle was clear. If she was outed, I could expect big problems from him, and I was reminded of what had happened to Cindy. Because I was completely certain as to the anonymity of my research, I assured her there would be no problems for her as a result of our interview or my research.

“Good,” Bonnie said. “I will be admitting a lot of things to you, things my husband, Madison’s father, knows absolutely nothing about. He’d kill me if he found out, or take Maddy away from me at the very least.” Maddy, obviously, was short for Madison, her daughter.

“Believe me, Bonnie. Whatever you say is strictly confidential. I’ll go to my grave with any and all information about your identity,” I said. “Not even my notes will contain information about your true identity, not even the city where you live.

“Okay,” Bonnie said, “you’re both kinda young. You better know what you’re doing.”

“We do. In fact, I don’t mind sharing some very personal information about the two of us to make you feel safer about our discretion.”

“You mean about your movie?” Bonnie said. I was taken aback by her remark, and she said, “I recognized you immediately.  You’re Kayleigh Katz’s daughter.” Then she grinned. “And I have to admit that you’re even hotter in person than you are on my,computer screen.” She turned to her daughter, “Isn’t she, Maddy?” The child nodded in response to her mother’s question. I felt odd knowing this nine-year-old girl had seen at least one of my movies, but the overall feeling was one of feeling turned on by it.

Answering Bonnie’s initial question, I said, “Well, um, actually, no that isn’t what I was going to tell you.”

“You mean it’s bigger than starring in some porn videos?” she asked.

“Much,” I replied. “In fact, starring in those porn videos was legal because my friend and I were already eighteen when those were filmed.”

She smiled as if expecting that answer, and I realized she had indeed expected it, or at least was pleased it had been my reply. I wondered if she had been testing me to see if I was going to try to admit to something legal to assure her, which almost certainly would have resulted in our being asked politely to leave without the interview.

“So, give,” she said.

I began by saying, “You won’t repeat anything I tell you, correct?” She nodded emphatically. I was so certain that her sex life included her daughter I had no fear of telling her the unvarnished truth. “I have sex with my mom. Have been since I was six.”

Bonnie grinned slightly, the corners of her mouth taking on a satisfied curve. I could tell that news did more than reassure her. The idea was turning her on, and I was fairly certain it made what I expected was her upcoming confession concerning her daughter considerably easier.

“What about her?” Bonnie said, looking at Lisa. “What secrets do you have, sweetie?”

Lisa looked unsure, but I encouraged her and said with a slight nod of my head toward Bonnie, “Go ahead. She’ll never tell.”

Lisa swallowed. “My sister and I have been lovers since we were little.”

“My, my. I guess we have a whole passel of incestuous girls here.”

“I take it you and Maddy are lovers,” I said, framing the statement as more of a question.

“I guess that was pretty easy to figure out,” Bonnie said. “I mean, why have her in here if she doesn’t already play a big part in my story, right?”

“So,” I began. “What is your story?”

“Well,” Bonnie said, “when I was little my mama — well — I guess she was a lot like your mama. She, um, showed me things.”

“What things?” I asked.

“Well, to start with, her pussy. Then she showed me how to pleasure myself by getting me naked with her and touching me in all the right places.”

“Where was your father?”

“He died in a hunting accident when I was a baby. At least that’s what everyone said. As I grew up, I found out a lot of folks didn’t like him and may have killed him while he was out hunting. Either way, I don’t remember him at all. All I know is he died somewhere in the woods of southwestern Georgia.”

“Okay, so your mother introduced you to sex?” I asked to return the conversation to the topic. “How old were you?”

“Almost too young to remember details. I was five.”

“Did you enjoy what your mother did to you?”

“Enjoy? Girl, I was in love with it! I came the first time she did me. And I’ve been coming ever since. In fact, I’m able to come in less than ten seconds. That’s how horny I am nearly all the time. Mama said I was made for orgasms. I think she was right.”

“Just curious, but what did your mother look like? Was she as pretty as you and Maddy?”

A tiny smirk appeared and vanished on her face in less than a second. “Yeah, she was a real fox, and she liked both men and women, like me. I like anyone who can help me get off. I think my mama is the same.”

“She’s still alive?” I asked.

“Oh, yes. She visits at least twice a year, and Maddy loves her very much — and as often as she can.” Her meaning was obvious, and it reminded me of the times I had been with my own grandmother.

“So anyway,” Bonnie continued, “Mama would come home from dates and let me clean her up.” Bonnie looked at me. “With my mouth, of course. By the time I was eight, I got one of the men she was seeing in bed with me and lost my virginity. After that, I would borrow my mama’s dildos and such. I was allowed to masturbate anywhere and anytime I wanted. She’d come home with some guy or gal and there I’d be sittin’ on the sofa with her vibrator up my pussy while I watched porn. More than once she ended up inviting me to join them in the bedroom, but she always took her guest in there first, I guess to make sure it was okay with them. It almost always was. I think most people would be very shocked at how many pedos there are in this world, especially female pedos. I think people sorta expect most men to be at least a little bit like that, but I had just as many women after me when I was little. You shoulda seen their faces light up when they realized they could have me. I think if it were legal, it would be as accepted as drinking wine at a dinner party.

“Anyway, when I got older, I’d bring girls home to spend the night, and Mama would end up having sex with each and every one of them.” Bonnie smiled at Maddy. “Now, Maddy’s passing on the favor.”

“So Maddy brings friends home and you seduce them?” I asked, wanting to make sure I was understanding her right.

“Oh, sure. She doesn’t bring friends home that aren’t sexual anyway. I just offer myself to her friends. Like I said, I’m all about coming with whoever can bring me off, not to mention helping them get off, too.”

“How old was Maddy the first time you had sex with her?” I asked.

“Younger than I was when my mama did me. She was four.”

I turned to Maddy. “You like what your mama does?” I asked, wanting to make sure she wasn’t being forced. Her enthusiastic smile said it all, but she added. “Yes. It’s my favorite thing to do, like, ever.”

“Baby,” Bonnie said. “Come over here and show the ladies how much you enjoy what we do.”

With that, Bonnie lifted her butt from the chair enough to pull her denim skirt up to her waist. She wore no panties. Her bald pussy was suddenly on display, and she spread her legs wide, opening her slit to reveal a great deal of her juices that had apparently been oozing out of her vagina since our arrival. Possibly before.

Lisa and I watched as a very happy Maddy scurried to her mom and knelt between her spread thighs. She inserted two fingers inside her mother’s flooded canal and leaned forward to place her lips firmly against her mother’s cunt.

Bonnie’s reaction was immediate. She began to shiver and her legs shot out straight, forming a large V. Her daughter was positioned between the woman’s legs, enthusiastically licking her. Bonnie’s hands went to her boobs, and she began massaging and pinching her nipples through the thin material of her top. Then she proved she was not lying about coming quickly. Within seconds she was grunting out an orgasm.

Looking down, I saw that Madison had her own hand up her short dress and was massaging her clit while she ate her mom’s pussy. I realized Madison wasn’t wearing panties either. When her mother was finished coming, Maddy lay back and continued masturbating, hiking her dress up to her waist and putting her pre-pubescent mound on display. Bonnie took some time to compose herself again while Lisa and I watched the nine-year-old girl lying in front of us, openly rubbing her slit and whimpering with the need to come.

“Go ahead,” Bonnie said. I looked at her and her eyes were locked on mine. I realized her words had been directed to me as she nodded toward Maddy. “I don’t mind, and I can promise you she won’t.” I paused, still unsure. I had open permission from Lisa that I could have sex with any child who was willing, so that wasn’t bothering me. I just wanted to be sure Maddy wouldn’t mind.

“Maddy, honey? ” I said. At first she didn’t hear me she was so involved with her own pussy. “Maddy?” I said, raising my voice a bit to get her attention. She looked at me, glassy-eyed.

“Huh?” she asked, continuing to rub herself.

“Is it okay if I lick you?”

Her face lit up, the smile spreading. “Yes!” she said, as if I’d just offered her the toy she wanted most in the world as a gift.

I looked at Lisa then back to Bonnie. “Is it okay if Lisa joins me?”

“Be our guest,” Bonnie said.

We got down on the floor with Maddy and I offered Lisa the first taste. She leaned over and glued her mouth against the young girl’s pussy. Maddy began to grind her bald pubes against Lisa’s face.

“Sit on my face,” Maddy said to me, her expression one of absolute need. “Let me lick you.”

As I pulled my shorts and panties off, I noticed Bonnie stripping as well. Then she knelt beside Lisa and began removing my lover’s clothes. As I squatted over the child’s eager mouth, I pulled my t-shirt and bra off as well. Soon, Maddy was the only one of us with any clothes on, and that was only because she was lying on her back getting her pussy licked while licking mine. Lisa’s moans told me that Bonnie was licking her as well.

All I can say is that little girl certainly knew how to lick a pussy. Some people think it’s as easy as falling off a log, but too many people just try to gently flick the clit with their tongue or mash their mouths against the clit to the point of discomfort. Maddy knew just how to adjust the pressure, when to lick the labia, when to push her tongue down my vagina, and when to massage my clit with just the right amount of force.

Soon, I was shivering with the approaching climax. Lisa, too, was nearing her own orgasm as Bonnie licked her pussy expertly. And Maddy? She had come twice already and was heading for her third orgasm of the day, or at least the third since Lisa and I had arrived.

Now that we’d gotten the little orgy out of the way, I got down to business regarding what had happened, who had caught Bonnie and her mother, and what level of shame she had felt.

“I can tell you’re from the South,” I began again. “What area are you from?”

“I grew up in Georgia, in a small town about two hours southwest of Atlanta. It was actually a nice place to grow up. Everyone knew everyone else, and we sorta took care of each other because of that.”

“Tell me about getting caught,” I said.

“Oh, that.” I could tell this would not be as pleasant a tale as we’d heard from Andrea, who was caught with her cousin by her aunt, the other girl’s mother, who ended up having sex with Andrea and her daughter, Belinda.

“Is it a painful subject?” I asked. The tone of her answer surprised me. She had set her anxiety and guilt level at a three in the preliminary interview.

“No, not really. It was more painful for my mother, actually. You see, we were caught by the preacher’s wife.”

“Oh?” I could imagine the hell a preacher’s wife could cause.

“Yeah, you see my mama never really liked her very much. Said she was two-faced, and I reckon she was, all things considered. But when the preacher’s wife caught us — well, maybe I should start at the beginning.”

Taking a deep breath, Bonnie said, “Mama and I were in bed together, just a-goin’ at it with each other, and suddenly we heard this gasp from my mother’s bedroom door. We looked, and there as big as you please was the preacher’s wife, Doris. She was standing there with her hand to her mouth in shock. Well, at the time I didn’t realize just how big a shock it was since that activity was just normal for me back then, but now I do. It’d be like being caught with Maddy. Except I was only seven at the time.

“My mama jumped up and grabbed a robe to put on, leaving me in the bed, still not satisfied. I just lay there, naked and horny. Mama escorted Ms. Doris out to the sitting room and got her some tea. Not realizing maybe this was a problem, I went right out after them, still without a stitch of clothes on.

“My mama was in the kitchen fixing the tea and doing her best to chat with Ms. Doris when I entered the room. Ms. Doris just looked at me, taking it all in, I suppose. I had always been told I could touch myself whenever I wanted to inside our home, and there I was still very horny and inside that same house, so I sat down near Ms. Doris and started touching my pussy, rubbing it because I wanted to come. It wasn’t as if I’d never reached a climax before. I’d been having them for about two years by then, and I was determined that the visitor would not spoil my fun.

“When Mama came back in the room, I was sitting on a chair and happily masturbating in front of Ms. Doris, who was apparently fascinated with my actions. Mama told me I had a finger pressed into the entrance to my vagina — something I loved to do — while using my other hand to rub my tiny but swollen clit. I mean, there was no doubt what I was doing. I had enjoyed orgasms in every room of the house, so to me it was like playing with Barbies or something — I saw nothing wrong with it.

“Anyway, when my mama came into the room, doing her best to chat with the preacher’s wife, she saw me sitting there with my hands in the cookie jar, so to speak.

“I don’t really remember this very much. I mostly know what my mama told me. But apparently, Ms. Doris was so fascinated with watching me, she barely noticed my mother entering the room. Mama said she was watching my fingers and seemed to be hypnotized or something. Of course, she wasn’t, but it looked like that to my mama.

“Anyway, they both sat there and watched me bring myself off without speaking a word. Mama said it was pretty evident I had come, and Ms. Doris continued to watch as I cleaned my juices from my fingers by licking and sucking them. Then Mama noticed that Ms. Doris was sorta squirming in her chair, and she knew that the woman was horny from watching me.

“She said Ms. Doris looked at Mama and realized she’d been caught staring at me getting myself off and had gotten horny, so instead of threatening to tell the world, Ms. Doris made a deal with my mama. Mama told her that if she didn’t say anything to anyone about what she’d caught us doing together in the bedroom, or tell what she’d witnessed me doing right there in the sitting room, Mama would let her come over and get a small sample of what we were enjoying. In other words, Ms. Doris could have sex with my mama and me as long as she never told anyone what she’d seen.”

“I’m curious about something,” I said, interrupting her. “Why did she come into your house like that without being invited?” The idea of someone entering my house without an invitation was totally foreign to me. In my neighborhood, that was grounds for being arrested or even shot dead.

“Oh, that. Well, we lived in a small town, like I said, and everybody only locked up at night. In fact, my mama later told me that we’d only recently started doing that. When Ms. Doris had knocked on the door, she got concerned when nobody answered, so she opened our front door a crack and heard some moaning. She thought someone was hurt.”

“So you suffered no guilt from this?” I asked.

“Not much. Later I did a little because of how Ms. Doris ended up confessing what she’d been doing with my mama and me right before she died from cancer. Mama and I had to leave town after that. But Mama told me I should never feel any guilt or shame for what we did. She said it was loving me in the best possible way, and I agree.

“You see, the way I look at it, there’s sex and there’s love. Sex is what happens when two people do it just to get off. Frequently, your partner in sex doesn’t really care about your feelings or if you’re enjoying what’s happening. They just wanna come. Love, though, is different. Love is about getting pleasure by giving pleasure. It’s about seeing to it that your partner enjoys what happens even more than you do. Love is giving. Sex is taking. See?”

I nodded. Yes, I did see. Very clearly in fact, and I was in complete agreement.

“Did you mind what Ms. Doris was doing?”

“Oh, Lord no. She was one of the best pussy lickers I’ve ever met. Turns out she and her sister had fooled around all their lives, from the time they were real little.”

“And this was the preacher’s wife?” I asked, incredulous.

“Sweetie, never let that fool you. Some of the horniest people alive are preachers and their wives,” Bonnie said. “They preach most about what sin they think they’re most guilty of. Now, you want guilt about having strong sexual feelings, especially the ones a lot of folks think is, well, ‘different’? Find a preacher’s wife. They’re bathing in it.”

We ended up joining Bonnie and Maddy in Bonnie’s bedroom. We each had a turn making love with Maddy, who seemed to be enjoying this adventure enormously.

Needless to say, so were the rest of us.

Continue on to Chapter 84