Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

By Naughty Mommy

I was greeted with a surprise the next morning when I got up to go to the toilet and then looked in the bathroom mirror. There was a small purplish bruise on the side of my neck, right where Melissa had been kissing me the night before.

I knew what it was. I’d heard kids at school talk about ‘hickeys’, although I’d never seen one up close. It made me feel conflicted. Partly I was annoyed at Melissa for disfiguring me that way, but mostly I felt proud and happy that I carried what I thought of as an adult mark of active sexuality.

But now I had a dilemma. Should I let anyone else see this? What if Kate or Molly saw it? Would they know what it was? I doubted that Molly would, although she might be curious enough to ask me what had happened. Kate could very well be old enough to realize what it meant, and if so, she certainly would insist on knowing how I got it.

I rummaged through my drawers until I found an old turtleneck. I didn’t wear it very often, and the weather outside was still pretty warm, too warm really for that shirt. But I tried it on anyway, looking at myself in the mirror. The mark on my neck was only partially covered, still noticeable enough to attract attention. When I adjusted the collar high enough to conceal it completely, it made me look ridiculous.

Sighing, I took off the turtleneck and put it back in my drawer. I would just have to let people see the hickey and figure out how to explain it. I didn’t think my mom would be bothered too much by it — after all, it was at the orgy she’d organized that I received it — but still I felt uneasy as I made my way downstairs for breakfast that morning.

My mother was at the stove fixing scrambled eggs. My nose told me she’d also cooked bacon. That delicious smell made me extra hungry.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” said my mom.

“Hi, Mommy.”

When she looked over at me, she did a classic double-take, immediately noticing the mark on my neck. But she didn’t say anything about it then. She just gave me a knowing smile.

Molly was sitting at the table with a glass of orange juice. Kate was still up in her room.

I sat down next to Molly. She was looking at a Sesame Street magazine while she drank her juice. I kissed her cheek. “What are you reading?” I asked.

“About Bert and Ernie not knowing if they should put coats on when they go outside. It’s funny,” she grinned, turning toward me. If she noticed my bruise at all, she didn’t seem to care about it. Perhaps I was worrying too much about things, as I often did.

“Do you want some eggs, baby?” asked my mom.

“Sure, that sounds good.”

“And bacon?”

“Definitely.”

We ate our breakfast and talked about plans for the day. My mother said she wanted me and Kate to help her clean out the flowerbeds in the backyard and plant some new rose bushes she’d ordered.

“I can help too,” offered Molly.

“Of course you can,” said my mom with a smile, “in fact, you’ll be my number one helper. I have so many things I need you to do for me out there today.”

My sister beamed happily. Like my mother, she was a natural blonde with pretty blue eyes. Her hair was curly and framed her sweet little face. Kate and I both had brown hair and brown eyes, inherited from our father.

I helped my mother clean up the dishes. Just as we finished, Kate finally came downstairs. She was normally the last to rise in our family. When Kate saw the mark on my neck, she frowned at me and I quickly looked away, but she didn’t say anything about it.

In the afternoon we all worked in the yard together. It was fun, and it was a nice feeling to see the results when we were done.

“Well,” remarked my mother, dusting off her hands, “that makes a big difference. Thank you, girls, for all your hard work out here.”

“How soon will the roses bloom, Mommy?” I asked.

“They should start late next spring, maybe around May, if all goes well.”

She looked at the three of us, smiling happily. I noticed that her glance finished on my neck. “Okay, but we’re all pretty dirty now. Kate, will you take Molly inside and get her in the bathtub? I have one more thing that Julie can help me with in the garage.”

Kate and Molly went into the house, and I followed my mom to the garage, carrying the gardening tools we’d used. We cleaned them and put them away.

“Honey,” she began, “how do you feel about that mark on your neck?”

I felt myself turning red, embarrassed to talk about it. Strange, though, that I could see my mother naked, could watch her having hot lesbian sex, and that didn’t make me feel awkward at all. But when she asked me about a hickey, I got flustered. Human psychology is weird.

“I don’t know,” I stalled.

She came up to me, putting her hands on my shoulders. Moving closer to the light, she turned my head so she could get a better look.

“It’s a good one,” she said. “That damn Melissa, I should spank her for doing this to you.”

“It’s not her fault,” I protested, “she was just, you know, kissing me.” Then I grinned, “But it might be fun to watch you spanking her.”

That made my mother smile. “I know,” she sighed, “these things are going to happen. But I just wish she’d been more careful.”

“I don’t mind. I kind of like it.”

“Hm. Have you decided how you’re going to explain to the kids at school if they ask about it?”

“No,” I turned away. “Not yet.”

“Well, if you want to talk about it some more, you just come to me. Okay?”

I nodded.

She patted my shoulder. “Come on, let’s go inside and get cleaned up.”

* * *

The next day at school was interesting.

I was surprised that no one really said anything to me about the mark on my neck, even though a lot of people seemed to notice it. It had faded slightly by then, but was still plainly visible. A few of the older girls seemed to look at me with a newfound respect, as if I’d gained stature in their eyes.

I wasn’t especially popular at school then, being sort of bookish and shy. I had plenty of acquaintances, but not too many close friends. I had one good friend, Amy, an Asian girl who wore thick glasses. We’d been friends since second grade. She was smart, like me, and also studious.

Amy and I did homework or school projects together sometimes, and I’d gone to her house for a sleepover once. She wasn’t that cute to look at, though, and I wasn’t really interested in her sexually. Not the way I was in some of the other girls, and in some of the female teachers too.

There was only one time that day when I thought I might have to explain the hickey. It was during lunch in the cafeteria. I was sitting by Amy when two girls from our class came over and set their trays down near us. One of them, Paige, asked, “So, Julie, what did you do this weekend? Anything fun?”

I immediately blushed and looked down, but didn’t give a response.

I glanced at Amy. She was acting like she hadn’t heard the question. The other two girls giggled a lot but neither of them said anything else about it, and I was relieved.

My sisters and I were attending a private school with limited enrollment. It covered grades K through eight, with small class sizes, no more than twenty students in a room. I was in seventh grade, Kate was in fifth, and Molly in third.

Molly, who was really bright, had skipped second grade. She’d adjusted very well to moving ahead, fitting in right away, and had lots of friends. Occasionally she would have some of them over at our house, and I liked playing with them and being around them. Little girls that age are fun.

Kate was also quite popular. She was much more outgoing than I was, involved in sports, playing school soccer and softball and on the swim team too. Most of her friends, though, seemed to be sort of on the surface. That is, she didn’t seem particularly close to any of them. When her activities were done, she usually liked to come home and be with us.

That’s how I was too, preferring to spend most of my time at home with my mom and my sisters. They really were my best friends.

* * *

Within a few days, my hickey had completely faded away. I actually started to wish I could get another one, to show off some more how cool and grownup I was. But my mom was really busy at work around that time, lugging home briefcases full of papers every night that she had to read, so for several weeks she didn’t go out at all, not even on Saturday nights. She stayed home, and we didn’t play our ‘game’.

That didn’t stop me from masturbating, of course. Every night in bed after I turned out the lights, I thought about the things I’d seen and done with Melissa and Tracy and Danni and the others, and about things I’d like to do with them. I gave myself many wonderful orgasms that way.

Sometimes I fantasized about girls I knew at school. Not Amy, but other girls. Especially Madison. She was an eighth-grader, tall and well-developed for her age. She had the best figure in the school. Madison was pretty and popular, but she also seemed really nice. I didn’t know her very well, but whenever I saw her, she would smile at me. That always gave me goose bumps.

At night I would pretend I was with Madison and I was taking off her clothes, looking at those glorious big breasts, touching her nipples, putting my hand inside her panties. I could come very easily when I fantasized about her.

I remember one evening when I was thinking about Madison, and then for some reason I started to picture her being with my mother, as if my mom had brought her home to play the game I liked so much where I would watch and masturbate while she seduced her guest. In my mind, I could see them down in the family room, my mother pulling Madison’s shirt over her head, taking off her bra, kissing her nipples, and Madison looking up at me and smiling the way she did.

It was very exciting to imagine my mother being with a girl that age, about my age — and then a new thought occurred to me. What if Madison, or one of the other girls I liked at school, could see me with my mom, could see us naked together, touching and kissing? What would they think about that? It was such a deliciously naughty thought that it instantly made me come.

After that splendid orgasm, I spent several nights conjuring up fantasies about other girls at school watching me and my mom together. Sometimes I pictured a whole crowd of girls around us, masturbating while they stared at the sight of a beautiful woman kissing and caressing her 12-year-old daughter. That got me really hot.

And then another new thought came into my mind: how would my teachers react if they saw us that way?

Most of them, I was sure, would disapprove, but probably not all of them. There were a few of my female teachers (I didn’t even consider the men) whom I suspected would enjoy watching us, and who might even want to join in.

I could tell by the way those teachers looked at some of their prettier students, when they didn’t think anyone was watching, that they were having lustful thoughts about them. Although they weren’t openly lesbian (none of our teachers were), it seemed pretty obvious to me what they were interested in.

At the start of that year, a new teacher had come to our school. She taught fifth grade, and Kate was in her class. Her name was Ms. Reynolds. I had learned that her first name was Sandra, although the students never called her that, of course.

Ms. Reynolds was a petite, slender blonde, with freckles. She was probably in her late twenties, cute and very flirty. I wasn’t sure if she was a lesbian, because she would make eyes at the male teachers and students as much as she did at the female teachers and students. She was just that way with everyone.

But still it seemed to me that she was especially drawn to girls. Or at least that’s the way I liked to think of her.

And because she was so cute and so sexy, I became highly aroused when I imagined Ms. Reynolds — Sandra — watching me kiss my mom. I pictured Sandra sitting in a chair in our family room, her short skirt pulled up, her legs open, her panties off, touching herself as she saw what I was doing.

In my fantasy, I was naked and I was crawling all over my mother, who was on the couch, also naked. I rubbed my body against my mom’s body, always looking over at Sandra to see how she would react. I kissed my mother, wetly, using my tongue, and I fondled her nipples, and I rubbed my pussy on her leg. In my imagination, I even allowed myself to reach between my mother’s legs and touch her sex. That made the fantasy Sandra get really excited, and my mom too. Pretty soon I was making my mother come with my fingers and then Sandra came in the chair while she watched us — and then I came in my bed as I visualized it.

The next night I went so far in the same fantasy as to get down on my knees in front of my mother and spread her legs and then look over at Sandra to make sure she was watching closely as I put my mouth on my mother’s pussy and shoved my tongue inside her cunt. I fucked my mother with my tongue and I imagined Sandra leaving her chair and getting down on the floor behind me and using her fingers to open my labia and licking me. God I came so hard as I pictured myself actually having sex with my mom and my sister’s hot teacher.

Night after night I would entertain myself that way. My erotic imagination was active and creative, and my fingers were kept very busy between my legs. I actually wondered if I was setting some kind of new record for orgasms for a 12-year-old girl. But later I would find out that lots of little girls my age, and younger ones too, were playing with themselves and coming as often as I was. Girls just naturally love sex.

Continue on to Chapter 14