Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

By JetBoy

My husband worked away on the oil rigs — one month on, one month off. When he was home, my girls knew that we needed to be a family and do what families do. I still nursed Beth and made love to Chelsea, but only when Dan wouldn’t catch us.

Chelsea loves her daddy, and cuddles up to him all the time when he is home. He had no idea about the kind of wicked things that she and I get up to while he is away, though. I do adore my husband, but this newfound passion I have for my girls is consuming me, making me want them constantly. I am a woman obsessed, a mother driven by lust.

Each time my husband goes back out to the rig, we are all a month older. My story picks up after six of those months had gone by.

A lot can happen in a young girl’s life in six months — and the difference between ten and ten and a half years old was remarkable, particularly in a child as sexually active as Chelsea. Her breasts had only just begun to bud. Her bottom showed a new shapeliness, and she had mastered the art of swinging her hips so that her mini dresses and skirts flicked up in a tantalizing way. There was also a hint of pubic hair, soft and very blond, with none of the coarseness that would come as she matured. In fact, I could only really see it in a certain light when I went down on her.

Beth, too, had changed. At four years old she was always running around and getting into everything. I needed to keep a constant eye on her. She still came to me to nurse, but less often now, more for comfort than anything else. On the other hand, she still loved to have me bathe her… and that very much included the affection I showed her with my mouth and fingers after drying her off.

Yes, I adored my girls… and I was soon to discover how much they loved each other.

It happened when my husband was at home. All he wants to do after a month on the rig is take me as often as possible. We share a good hard fuck, leaving him sleepy and contented. He is a marvelous lover, but my sexual appetite is so immense that I’m usually still somewhat aroused after our loving. So I usually slip into our bathroom after he is asleep and finger myself to one final climax.

On this night, I decided to pass by the room my daughters share, just to look in on them before my little bathroom visit. I cautiously eased the door open, only to be confronted by an amazing sight.

Beth was in Chelsea’s bed, and both of them were naked. The covers had been pushed to the floor. Chelsea hugged baby sister to her chest, Beth’s mouth fastened to her nipple. Chelsea had one hand tucked between Beth’s thighs and was lightly fingering her. I watched in awe as Beth lifted her face from her sister’s chest, then my daughters shared a kiss that quickly deepened, their tongues flickering into each other’s mouths.

I was stunned. I’d been progressing slowly with kissing Beth, not wanting to overwhelm her, but Chelsea had clearly taught her four-year-old sibling all there was to know about kissing a lover.

Leaning against the door frame, hidden in the shadows, I watched in awe as my daughters made out as if they were grown lesbians. They were both seething with sexual heat, yet tender and loving at the same time. The girls held each other urgently, their mutual adoration a beautiful thing to see.

Their kissing became more urgent. I watched as they caressed each other’s bodies, then they broke their kiss, giggling in complete delight with one another. Then Chelsea began to lick and tease her baby sister’s nipples. Beth was cooing happily, much like she did when I fondled her.

Then Chelsea swiveled around so she and Beth were lying side by side, top to tail. Beth was shorter, so her big sister had to arch her back to make contact, but they quickly arranged themselves into a sixty-nine position.

I couldn’t believe my eyes — but the more I thought about it while I stood in the shadows, secretly watching my underage daughters revel in sapphic loveplay, the more sense it made. When it came to sex, Chelsea had been a quick study; at ten years old, she knew more about how to pleasure a woman than most men would ever learn. Who better to teach her four-year-old sister how two girls make love?

I gazed in rapt approval as my girls explored each other’s pussies with eager mouths. This wasn’t just sex, this was love. I saw them moving together, sharing pleasure unselfishly. I watched as Chelsea came, Beth’s mouth glued to her big sister’s slit. Then Chelsea used her fingers and tongue to bring Beth off. I’d never seen my youngest daughter come before, and witnessing it made me feel warm inside, as if I’d just drunk a mug of cocoa.

It embarrasses me to admit this, but I also felt a twinge of envy as well. I wanted desperately to be there in bed with my little girls, joining in the lovemaking, the three of us sharing our bodies.

I couldn’t do that, of course — this really was their time, and it would be wrong to interrupt my daughters for my own selfish pleasure. Too, Dan was sleeping just down the hall, and I couldn’t run the risk of being caught coupling with the girls, no matter how unlikely it was that he’d rouse himself from bed until morning.

So I stood quietly, observing from the darkness of the hallway while a spent but very happy Beth and Chelsea hugged one another, then enjoyed one last tender kiss. I heard their whispered declarations of love. And then I saw them settle down for the night, their bare bodies sweetly entwined. It was a warm night, so my angels didn’t even bother to crawl beneath the sheets. Instead, they just lay naked on top of them.

I realized that I was pressing my hand between my thighs as I’d watched this scene of lesbian incest play out. I knew that Chelsea loved to lick pussy, but to see four-year-old Beth going down on her sister had me shivering with lust. I desperately needed to bring myself off, but didn’t dare do it where I was. Quietly as possible, I slipped down the hall to the spare room, where I fingered my cunt until I exploded, leaving a huge wet spot on the bedspread that I had to wash by hand the next day.

What excited me most was the revelation that Beth now knew, at the tender age of four, how to make love. And even after the huge climax I’d just enjoyed, I was nearly trembling in anticipation of the extra special bath that I’d be giving my baby girl very soon.

*****

The following afternoon, I was standing in the living room and gazing down at Beth, who was sprawled on the carpet, busy with her crayons and coloring book. Chelsea was at school, of course, and I’d gotten Dan out of the house by suggesting that he spend the day at the racetrack with a couple of his friends. He was so pleased and grateful to me for coming up with the idea that I almost — almost! — felt guilty for deceiving him.

My heart thrummed excitedly as I studied my beautiful four-year-old. She wore little apple-red shorts with a yellow blouse, and white socks that were already dirty on the bottoms of her feet. Her legs scissored together as she colored in a drawing of a frog. For some reason, she had decided to make him blue.

I knelt beside Beth. “Honey,” I crooned, “how’d you like to have a nice bath right now?”

Her coloring book was instantly forgotten as she jumped to her feet. “Yes, Mama, yes!”

Reaching for her tiny hand, I smiled. “Come on, then.”

I led Beth upstairs and into the bathroom, turned on the spigot in the bathtub, added a shot of citrus bath oil, then knelt before my little angel to undress her. Up went her top, down went her shorts and cute pink panties, and she raised one tiny foot at a time so I could slip her socks off. Now naked, she stood with her hands clasped adorably before her, twisting her slight body from side to side as she watched me remove my own clothes, until I was as bare as my little girl. This was something new; though I was often naked when I nursed Beth, I always wore a t-shirt and panties while she had her bath.

She was about to get another surprise, too. After I picked up my daughter and placed her in the tub, I climbed in beside her.

“Mama!” she cried, delighted. “You take a bath with me?”

“That’s right, honeybunch,” I cooed, drawing her babyish body into my arms. “You can help get Mama clean tonight.”

“Whee!” she squealed, her slippery frame wriggling against mine.

I began to wash my child, my hands gliding over every inch of her. When I bathed Beth in the evening, I really did bathe her, saving our sensuous play time until afterward. Not on this night. Right then, I was a lover, fondling this luscious nymph in the sexiest way I could, my eyes gazing adoringly into hers.

And though my darling child was only four, she knew that something special was happening between us. Beth usually cavorted and splashed happily in the scented water, but now she was nestled quietly in my arms, making little contented sounds while I caressed her all over. My hands traveled over her thighs, her belly, her chest — pausing to brush her tiny nipples with my fingertips — her arms, her firm little bottom, the smooth, sweet cleft between her legs.

Bending down to nuzzle Beth’s face, I whispered, “I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you, Mama,” she piped, in a voice soft as a prayer.

My lips sought out the delicate jewel of her mouth, touching it in the lightest of kisses… then again, allowing it to linger. Beth’s lips parted enticingly, inviting me to explore, so I allowed the tip of my tongue to say a brief hello to her, delicately tracing my daughter’s mouth like an artist’s brush.

When her tongue shyly emerged to meet mine, I engaged it, coaxed it forth until Beth was tentatively giving her Mama a real French kiss. I returned her hesitant passion — gently at first, so as not to frighten my precious pixie. The heat of our kissing quickly began to rise as Beth grew more and more excited. She reached up to wrap both her little arms around my neck, dangling from me as if she was the loveliest of necklaces.

When our mouths finally broke apart, I scooped my child up to deposit her in my lap. The water spilled over the side of the tub, and Beth shrieked with glee as I cradled her body to mine. She fell silent when our eyes met, taking in the look of desire that I gave her — so different from my sweet smiles of before. Now my expression was colored with the fiery hues of lust.

She cooed happily when I bent to kiss her neck, then trailed a tongue down to a tiny nipple, flicking it playfully. “Feels funny, Mama!” she squealed. I slipped a hand between Beth’s soap-slippery thighs to cup her mound, lightly stroking the slit with my middle finger. She loved all of it, wriggling ecstatically in my lap.

Finally I sat up, gazing down at my little girl. “Let’s go take a nap, honeybunch. We can play some nice games together, like you do with your sister.”

Beth seemed undisturbed that I knew about what she’d been up to with Chelsea. “Okay, Mama!” she chirped.

I rinsed us both, then we climbed from the tub and took turns drying one another. I could have done myself much more quickly than Beth did, but she took such pleasure in rubbing my bare body with the towel that I had to let her finish the job. Then I drew my naked little girl to me and kissed her ardently, exploring her tiny mouth with an eager tongue, growing increasingly excited as she returned my kiss with all the passion she had exhibited with Chelsea on the night before.

This was it — the moment of truth was here. I was going to make love to my youngest daughter, and I didn’t give a damn if that made me a pervert or not.

Continue on to Chapter 4