Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

By Eva

{ This story was originally posted at Lesbian Lolita in January 2008 }

“Mummy, this is my matchmaking game,” said Tina, leading me to a gaudily painted series of boxes, numbered one to ten, set on the coffee table. “Specially made for you ‘cos it’s your birthday tomorrow.”

It was my birthday tomorrow, that was true. Where has the past year gone? I wondered. My freckle-faced, blonde mop-haired daughter was continuing: “So we thought we’d find you someone to help you celebrate it.”

“We?” I asked.

She just giggled and moved the boxes closer.

My daughter, who is nine and quite lovely, seemed particularly anxious I should play this game. I was busy – being a full time worker and single mother qualifies me as busy – and things around the home wouldn’t get done by themselves. However, family first… “Okay, pet.” I smiled as she sat me down on the sofa and pushed the stacked boxes towards me. The washing could wait a few more minutes, I was sure.

“Right Mum,” said my daughter, “All you have to do is reach into any three boxes and take out a picture. Then we see who you like most and who you can meet and maybe have a date with–”

“Tina! Are you thinking that matchmaking is finding me a man?” And I was thinking matchmaking meant pairing up two numbers. Stupid me. Of course it was: pairing up two lonely ones. But I was too busy, too independent to think of trying to find a new man after Jake left me.

But then, Tina would want a father figure too in the home. Four years we had been on our own, so she would be thinking it was about time she had a new dad maybe. But as much as I was wary of going to meet new men (I hadn’t gotten over how selfish the last one had been four years ago) there was no point in spoiling my girl’s little game.

“Okay, sunshine,” I smiled. “Let’s hope I pick a nice, rich man.” I had no idea who she would think suitable for me, but as I say, this was just a game. I reached into box one and drew out an envelope.

“Open it!” chortled Tina.

I opened the envelope: it was Johnny Depp. A picture cut from a magazine. “Wow, good choice darling, but I think he may be a little out of my reach.” I saw Tina looking blankly at me. “Making films, being away a lot, having other stars for company. Nice, but out of my league, sorry.” I put the picture of Captain Jack Sparrow down.

“Well, you have two more goes,” said Tina, somberly. She was taking this seriously, bless her.

“Let’s hope it’s Daniel Craig and he’s free this weekend,” I said and reached for box six.

It was a Craig, but not the one I thought. It was Mr. Craig, from down the road. Sixty if he was a day… a picture taken at the school carol concert last year when he had remembered to put his teeth in. “Oh, that Mr. Craig,” I said, feeling dismayed my daughter would think I would want to form a relationship with a man twenty-five years older than me. Bald as a coot and less attractive. But I tried not to show too much disappointment that he might, as Tina said, be available for a date.

“But I have one more pick, right?” I said brightly, attempting not to show any fear that my choice might end up being Mr. Craig’s father.

I went for box seven. “My lucky number,” I smiled at my daughter, wondering what I’d get this time.

The envelope had a picture of Becky, Tina’s cousin. Twelve years old, wavy chestnut coloured hair and hazel eyes. For a pre-teen, she was looking like she would be an attractive young lady. But the picture wasn’t a man, which I pointed out to Tina, so it wouldn’t qualify.

“I know, but she asked if she could be in there,” said Tina. “Becky told me she likes you, Mum.”

I sighed. My sister Millie lived on the other side of town and we saw her and her husband and their only child every couple of weeks or so. Tina and Becky, I was glad to see, got along well enough despite their age difference. Some girls on the verge of growing up tend to see little girl cousins as nuisances, but Becky was always good to Tina. “I am happy she likes me, sweetheart, and I really like her, but I am not sure she qualifies as a date.”

“But you don’t know, Mum,” said Tina. She had that look in her eyes that told me when she wasn’t going to let go of an idea. “Not until you go out on a date.”

“Tina, think about this. I am a woman, she is a girl and women and girls don’t date!” I stood up and put down the picture of Becky, smiling out at me. Nice smile, I thought. As I began to turn away I noticed my niece’s shoulders were bare in the photo. “Tina… Where did you get this picture?”

We had, as two families, been on holiday five months ago but the campsite swimming pool was closed and the sea too cold to swim in, so it wouldn’t be a picture from the holiday. Anyway, the picture looked like it was taken in Tina’s room.

“I took it last week, when they came over,” said my girl. “I told Becky what I was going to do and she said great and posed for the photo.”

I searched my memory. “But… she had a top on. A red one. One we bought her for her last birthday.”

Tina grinned. “Yeah, I know. She took it off.”

I was puzzled. “But why?”

“Oh Mum! It was so you’d think she’d got nice shoulders.”

I was confused. “You mean, you and she planned all this… and I was supposed to think she was… (and I gulped here) you know, attractive?”

Tina chuckled, but didn’t say anything.

Then the thought hit me. I went into the boxes and pulled out all the envelopes left. Seven of them in all and I tore them open: all them were of Becky. All seven were pictures taken in Tina’s bedroom, and each of them showed she had no top on. Not least was the fact that four showed her naked from the waist up.

Small, round breasts with pert, pale brown nipples.

“Tina,” I gasped. “I was meant to open one of these? See her like this?”

My daughter nodded. “It was Becky’s idea. She said you’d like her with nothing on.”

“Nothing on?” I felt faint and wanted to clutch myself for support. “But she had her pants on, right?”

Tina said nothing and had just the merest smile on her lips.

I felt affronted and used and quite strange all in all. I got a grip on myself. “I think, given my needs in life, Christina (I always used her full name whenever my child was in trouble) that Mr. Craig down the road is looking the best prospect for me, wouldn’t you say?”

Christina said exactly nothing, and that always annoyed me most when she did that. “Go to your room, young lady,” I said and swept the pictures – all of them – into the wastepaper bin. Problem dealt with, and I would be having a word with my sister Millie about her daughter.

*****

I couldn’t quite bring myself to calling Millie up. She was a nurse and in the middle of some exams: the last thing she needed was a distraction like this. Anyway, the more I thought about it the more I saw it as some prank. The two girls were trying to wind me up.

Clever too having eight pictures of Becky in the boxes. I had to pick at least one of her from the three choices. It just turned out I had picked the two males first. Depp and Craig, even if the wrong Craig, were just makeweights.

Of course, I wondered why Tina thought this was a good idea. I had no doubt Becky put her up to it, but Tina wasn’t blameless herself. Hadn’t I taught her to say “no” if she as unsure about anything?

As I was alone (Tina was sulking in her room) I went back after a while and looked at the pictures of Becky again. She was indeed a good looking girl, and one would imagine in a few years time she would have plenty of boys after her.

But why on earth would the girl think I would find her attractive? Kids, who can understand them…

I went to toss the photos away again but held on to the one that showed Becky’s young boobs off so nicely. If nothing else, it would be perfect to shock Millie into reining her daughter in if she was pulling pranks like this.

*****

“She does like you, Mum,” said Tina the next day as I got breakfast and chivied her into hurrying up. School began at the same time every day and she always seemed surprised by the fact.

“Who does?” I was being super-mum, rushing around doing everything, and I had no idea what Tina was talking about.

“Becky, Mum,” said Tina, dawdling over her bowl of cereal. “She only wanted those pictures in there ‘cos she likes you a lot. She thinks you are lovely.”

I stopped in my dashing around. “What? Becky thinks I am…. lovely?”

“More than that. Sexy, she says.” Tina was saying this casually, as if passing on a fact. “She thinks you would make a good girlfriend and–”

“What!” I interrupted full force. I dragged the kitchen chair out on my side of the table and sat down in front of my daughter. “Tina, let me be crystal clear about this. I am a woman, your cousin Becky is a female. No, more than that: she is a young girl. A child – twelve years old. Women and pre-teen children do not have dates. They are not, repeat not, girlfriends.” My face was growing hot here and I had no idea why.

“She’ll be thirteen next month,” offered Tina.

“No! Not twelve or thirteen or fourteen… any age! She’s a girl!” I was feeling warm, especially in my face.

“But she’s nice! You said so yourself.”

I took a deep breath. “Christina, I said she was nice at that birthday party of Aunt Millie’s. Her dress, how she’d done her hair. She looked… well, sweet. And yes, she is a nice girl. She is, um, very pleasant to be with.”

“So?”

“So… what?” I blinked, gathering the loose ends. “You mean… So why am I not interested in her as… as a girlfriend?” I tried to spit the word out.

Tina wasn’t fazed by my venom. “She’s got a lovely smile and nice boobs and she is really funny–”

“How many times, Christina?” I was getting really flushed now and hoped my daughter didn’t ask me why I was getting so red in the cheeks. “Lovely for a boyfriend no doubt. When she’s older. End of story.”

I got up from the table and turned away, feeling very uncomfortable with myself. There was a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. Tension, no doubt. And we were getting late for her school and my work.

End of story, I reminded myself. About fifty times I told myself that on the way to the office.

*****

It was sneaky, but I went through Tina’s room when she was out that evening. As a caring mother I am entitled to make sure my daughter is not doing anything she shouldn’t, and while I respect her privacy totally, this was important.

I was looking for any more pictures of Becky, wondering how they had taken so many and managed to print them from her little camera without anyone knowing. Well, maybe Becky had done it somehow. I just had a feeling there would be more than the eight I’d seen.

And there was. There was a ninth picture.

In a drawer, under a few old school books, was a photo taken I presume by Tina as it was in her bedroom. A photo of Becky lying on her back on my daughter’s single bed, propped up on her elbows. She was smiling happily, utterly naked and with legs apart. Wide apart and knees up.

My heart skipped a beat as I looked at it, but I knew I was staring right at my niece’s hairless pussy. It was looking right back at me, gaping slightly. Like so many young females, she had no prominent nether lips. Just a small, pink slit and the faintest, merest hint of moisture on them.

I swallowed hard. It was either a trick of the light, a printer fault or she had been masturbating.

Oh God, I moaned and had to sit down.

*****

“Christina, we need to talk.” I was at my most efficient, most motherly. Most worried.

“Yes Mum?” So sweet and happy to talk.

“I found a picture. Up in your bedroom. One of Becky. One I hadn’t seen before.” I realized I was speaking in short bursts. Dramatic effect or being stupid?

Tina smiled. “I know. It’s a nice one.” She looked proud too. “I took that one like I did the others.”

I was slightly taken aback, the way a parent often is when they prepare for resistance from the child and the wall gives way all too easily. I was in a heap, as it were. “You knew I’d find it?”

“Course I did, Mum. That was why it was there, so you’d see it.”

I was aghast, and not for the first time today. “But… it was obscene.” Tina looked puzzled at me and I responded: “Obscene. Dirty. Too revealing. Private… of her parts down there.” I was floundering a little.

“Oh it was only her pussy,” said Tina, unconcerned. “She did that thing you do, before I took the picture.”

“What thing?” I sat down.

“You know, that rubbing thing. I saw you Mum, in your room, through the crack in the door a few weeks ago. You were lying down and rubbing down there. I heard you say ‘oh fuck’ and then you sort of shuddered.”

I looked at my daughter’s innocent bland face, not knowing what to say. She had seen me frigging off? Fuck indeed.

“And I saw you do it in the bath, with your legs up on the side and you had that thing in your hand.”

That thing…. Oh yes, the electric toothbrush I kept for myself. With the vibrating head.

“And on holiday, on the bed in your room, with that magazine with all those pictures of ladies without clothes on and you were just doing that–”

“Tina!” She stopped when I yelled. I drew breath. “That magazine… someone had left it under the bed. It wasn’t mine!” No way would I go and buy a copy of Girls, Giggles and Garters or whatever it was. Now Lesbian Licks maybe… I shut the thoughts out. This was not going the way I expected.

“Listen honey,” I said in the most placatory way I could. “Mummies who are on their own sometimes do things like that to, well, you know…” She didn’t, clearly. “It’s a woman thing, when she’s alone.”

“And that’s why I think Becky’s perfect for you,” grinned Tina. “‘So’s you won’t be on your own any more.”

I cleared my throat. “Becky is… she’s a girl and–”

“She’s almost thirteen,” said my daughter indignantly. As if that conferred adulthood on her. Or some mysterious sexual appeal.

“She’s a girl and I don’t need a girl. Or a woman,” I added a tad too hastily.

“Mum,” said Tina softly, “but you like Becky and she likes you and you can be friends and do those things in your books.”

Oh God, she had found my pile of lesbian novels and how-to-make-lesbian-love handbooks and all the rest of it. Had I got no secrets left at all? I swallowed hard. “Tina, it isn’t what you think it is.”

I couldn’t blame my girl for raising her eyebrow at me. So what, mother dear, should I think it is?

I was unsure what to say now. My daughter had seen me fingering myself, using a vibrating toothbrush way lower than designed for, found my reading matter and for all I knew she had discovered the strap on I had bought some years ago. In case I met someone who I wanted to fuck. Or she do me, however it worked out.

She had almost certainly found the handcuffs and the leather skirt with the slit up the side and the fishnet stockings. All, I hasten to add, bought in one mad afternoon in London’s Soho while the rest of them were going round some gallery. But it was clear that I was now in no position to show any picture of Becky, legs wide or tits out, to my sister Millie and raise a stink over this dating picture game of theirs.

While I was pretty certain no one would try to blackmail me, I was pretty certain Becky also knew now all about my secret life. “Okay,” I sighed. “So what is this idea of yours here?”

Tina chuckled and came and gave me a cuddle. “It’s okay Mum. I don’t mind anything, I just want you to be happy.”

I cuddled Tina back. “And you think me and your cousin would be happy?”

“Yes,” said my girl, looking up at me, face shining. “She really, really likes you.”

“Really, really?” I asked, the energy I’d pent up for a fight finally disappearing. I kissed Tina’s hair.

Tina giggled and hugged me more. “And she can come round and sleep over and you’ll be so happy.”

“I am sure,” I said, not being sure at all. I might fancy adult women but a teenager? No, a pre-teen as it stood. How would that work? Shopping for matching tops in Kidsworld, or listening to rap and saying whatever kids say these days about it?

Certainly no romantic candlelit dinners, or forays to the gay side of the Queen Anne pub. It was safe bet that small kids wouldn’t be expected to get a round of drinks in on the dyke side of the house. Perhaps McWhatsits do a burger meal for adult and child lesbian lovers, sort of one-and-a-half size portions with a big heart and a smaller heart on the box.

There was also the matter of Millie my sister wanting to know no doubt why her child was wanting all of a sudden to have sleep-overs at Tina’s. And insist on packing her own strap on.

I sighed, “Well, honey, maybe you are right but I don’t know how you are.”

“Because,” said Tina with a sly grin at me, “Aunt Millie says it will be fine.”

Aunt Millie? Oh fuck, I thought as the room swam.

*****

Millie was grinning, the bitch. I was mortified and blushed as she and the girls all sat looking at me. Enjoying my all too obvious embarrassment. In particular Becky with her tumbling chestnut hair.

“It’s okay, sis,” Millie purred. “I talked it over with Becca (she always called daughter that) and she has my full approval. Just go easy on her, okay?” Her eyes twinkled as she said it, enjoying my discomfort.

“But how did you know?” I was nervous looking at her and the girls, one sat either side of Millie.

“Oh Lana! Tina told Becca and she told me about your stash of girl mags. We thought it was funny you trying to hide them, and when I saw you jilling furiously on holiday I called the girls to peek at you on the bed with that revolting men’s magazine you’d found. But then as I put it there, it was hardly surprising.”

I got over my shock fairly swiftly. “You… you put it there? And you all… You saw me?” My blush was so hot I almost fried.

“Oh for goodness’ sake, sister!” Millie was smiling but serious too. “I can recognize a lonely lesbian when I see one. You were sending all the signals, and even Becca saw them.”

“She’s clever, is Becky,” chimed in Tina. Becky, praised to the heights, merely grinned wider at me.

I looked at my niece, at how she was dressed. A pale pink and white top with buttons on the shoulder, her pre-teen small bust just visible. A blue skirt, short enough that it would slip back without any effort. Fuck, I wish…I wish I wasn’t feeling so hot between my legs. I made an obvious job of tugging down the hem of my own skirt in the hope the casual movement would hide me grinding my thighs together seeking relief.

More, she had her legs slightly open and I could see her pink knickers in case I was in any doubt. And this wasn’t I knew a casual pose, a relaxing and a forgetting. Becky knew what she was doing and that I could see, and as I looked she hitched her skirt hem back just a fraction more.

“I really do like you,” said Becky as she watched me looking at her. “I love being with you, Aunt Lana.” Getting grown up now, not calling me “Antlarn” as she used to when little.

“Well, good. I’ve always liked you,” I said, awkwardly. Being reserved was good here, I decided. Seeming casual about getting my niece in bed might be the best policy.

“Then it’s okay, now. You can start,” said Tina, out of the blue. “You ‘n’ Becky can be lovers.”

“Uh… lovers?” I gasped, understanding what the implications of this actually were. This wouldn’t be dating, it would be sex. You could explain it in three words: woman, girl, fucking.

I turned back to Millie, trying to sort my thoughts. “So how come you know so much about les–” I was finding it hard to say the word. “Those people.”

“Those people are closer than you think,” my sister said with that twinkle in her eye. It was at that moment I saw where Tina’s hand was. It had slid into my sister’s. Holding hands, as lovers would. Oh, fuck, I groaned. I think I must have said it because everyone laughed.

“Yes, indeed,” said Millie. And she gave my daughter a lingering, loving kiss.

*****

What did I think of my daughter and my sister? I hadn’t even begun to formulate a thought about it really, but here I was with my niece. Alone, and this moment was occupying all my thinking space.

Here in the bedroom, my bedroom, I was awkward being alone with Becky. “I don’t know what to do,” I said.

“Okay, how about you undress me. I would like that, Lana.”

Lana? I shot her a look, What happened to the Aunt part? Then I understood: if we were lovers, then the Aunt bit slowed it all up. I had to be Lana for her. My bedroom name, as it were.

I was shaking as I stepped up to the girl. I have, of course undressed my own daughter and even, when Becky was younger, helped her out of wet clothes or once (spectacularly) when she was sick. But a mother/aunt role is different to undressing for sex and I was all fingers and thumbs. But not in any erotic way.

Becky, for her part, was patient as I fumbled to get her shoulder buttons undone. She even smiled at me reassuringly. The buttons came undone, and still shaking I slid the top up and over her head, and she shook her chestnut hair back as her it came free.

Becky had a pretty little white training bra on underneath, with a pink rose pattern. Now I knew she had small boobs and expected to see those little bumps, as per the photo, but in a way the bra took me by surprise. Or rather it brought home even more that this was not a woman like the ones I saw in that men’s magazine – the ones with their artificially enhanced tits and black lace plunge bras – but a real girl. A pre-teen girl at that, emerging from the chrysalis.

“My bra’s new,” she said, lifting her arms as if inviting me to take it off her. “Got it just for today.”

I gulped. This had been so carefully planned they had gone shopping especially for it. I took the bra off my niece and saw, for the first time in the flesh, those perfect little semi-round globes and the delightfully pert nipples. I stared and blushed a little.

That was when I said: “My God, I’m undressing you and I haven’t even kissed you yet!” It was a ludicrous thing to say, but it was true. Should people kiss first?

The question is more I suppose, should they kiss first before what exactly? Getting into bed? Probably… My cunt spasmed. No other way to describe it, a hot jolt that made me gasp faintly.

I pulled my bare chested niece to me, my grown up lips hard on her soft young lips, feeling my heavier bust against her small, firm chest. I was a little brutal, a little overwhelming I admit. She opened her lips slightly and my tongue was there. She wouldn’t know this is how adults would kiss I anticipated – not desperate ones like me who were about to cum in their knickers.

Then she floored me, so easily and neatly with four words. “Just like Mum does,” she breathed as her lithe young tongue fought back.

Millie? She kissed her daughter? I pulled away and stared, my belly turning to water. They were all doing it, all having sex. My daughter, my sister, my niece… I was the outsider here. The latecomer to the party. “Have you kissed Tina?” I managed to say.

“Of course,” laughed Becky, leaning in for another kiss. I pulled back. “But how? Why? When?”

My pretty niece laughed gently. “Oh, Lana! You know how, and I guess you know why. How can any sweet lesbian kid keep herself from kissing? And the when was months ago, back on holiday on that rainy day and you sent me and Tina up to our room and said don’t come down until you have exhausted playing some game.” Another smile. “It was some game, believe me. Especially when Mum joined in.”

I was astonished and all thoughts of sex here and now had gone out of my mind. I remembered that day, sat downstairs on my own, their father out someplace fishing, thinking the girls were playing Monopoly or something while I watched a crushingly boring black and white film on TV. Something about lovers being secretive, I seemed to recall. Well, the secret was ten feet above me.

I was sitting on the bed, staring into space. I had fought all my lesbian feelings thinking it would upset the family if they knew. Split them maybe. Now the females were all fucking like crazy and I was missing out. It just wasn’t fair, I told myself.

Becky was beside me, skirt hiked back for some reason. “Lana, it’s okay now,” she said gently, recognizing my distress. “We all know, we all care.” She took my hand and guided it to her white-pantied crotch. It was hot and wet and I suddenly snapped back to the here and now.

“But you deceived me?”

Becky shook her head, her chestnut waves bouncing. “We had to be sure, that’s all.”

Yes, they had to be sure. Discussing it in bed no doubt, wondering how I would react when I was finally allowed in. Breaking off a 69 to chat about whether I’d like it in my bumhole. Letting me into their world. I must have said that, instead of thinking it, because Becky pressed my fingers harder against her crotch. I could feel the shape of her little pussy lips underneath the taut fabric. “I’m letting you in now,” she breathed, and kissed my ear.

She was guiding my hand inside the waistband of her knickers, like she was used to this. Perhaps she was. Perhaps she fingered her mother like this all the time. Like my daughter was no doubt doing right now. I felt a ball of fire in my cunt as my fingers touched those little pussy lips of my niece, hairless, slightly puffed and surprisingly wet.

“Becky –” I started to say but she kissed me, stopping me. Her lips on mine, her tongue in my mouth, her hand on my heaving breasts.

She broke after a full minute. A minute of me having my hard nipples played with, my fingers working in that hot, wet cavern between her skinny legs. “You see how much I like you?” she asked.

I could see, very clearly now. “Oh, and happy birthday,” Becky smiled and went back to kissing me, her hands now in my knickers. Deep inside. I guess that’s where they are going to be for a long time to come.