The Joy of Looking, Chapter 120

  • Posted on April 10, 2016 at 2:38 pm

By Naughty Mommy

Click this link for a helpful chart of Characters and Relationships

Mommy and I fell asleep in her bed that night without ever leaving her room or seeing anyone else. They thoughtfully left us to ourselves, knowing that sometimes we wanted and needed to be alone with one another, bonding as lifetime lovers. It was heavenly.

We got up pretty early the next morning, however, and showered together, shampooing and conditioning our hair. I let mine dry naturally, as it was straight and fairly short, but my mother used the blow dryer and a curling brush to give her shiny blonde hair more body and some waves. When that was done, I watched as she made up her face, then we got dressed and went downstairs to start preparing for brunch.

The younger kids were already up, and Megan was too. Kate and Dana were still asleep, in Kate’s room. Megan, we learned, had slept with all the little girls in my bed, since it was bigger. That must have been nice.

Anyway, Mommy made coffee, the kids ate cereal, and I had an English muffin. After we sat and chatted with them for a while, my mother and I got busy cooking.

An hour later, the kitchen was filled with delicious aromas: a spinach and gorgonzola quiche baking in the oven; yeasty dough rising in a covered bowl; melted butter, brown sugar, chopped pecans, and cinnamon blending in a saucepan on the stove. By then, Dana and Kate were up and had joined us. It was another festive morning in the Duval household.

* * *

“They’re here!” Molly called out, a few minutes after 12:00. She’d been watching at the window for our guests to arrive, terribly excited about seeing the baby.

Everything was all set. The quiche was resting in its pan, having been removed from the oven an hour before. We would serve it at room temperature. The sticky buns were piping hot, ready to be devoured. I could hardly wait!

But now it was time to meet our new friends for the first time. Molly opened the front door. I went out to greet Karen and to be introduced to Miranda. The others waited just inside.

They were in two cars. Karen’s Toyota was in front, since she’d been leading the way. Miranda’s car, a rather beat-up Ford Escort, was behind Karen’s in our driveway. After Karen got out and gave me a big hug, we went to help Miranda bring her things in. Molly, who was supposed to have stayed at the door, was right on my heels.

Miranda got out of her car. She was short, maybe just a bit over five feet, but very pretty, with skin the color of cinnamon. Her hair was black and curly — most likely a permanent, I thought, since the little girl in the front passenger seat had completely straight hair. Miranda’s mouth was fairly small, but she had full lips and high cheekbones. The woman’s deep brown eyes were probably her best feature, however, big and round, totally captivating. And her eyebrows, oh my god, I could have killed for those eyebrows, richly dark and perfectly shaped.

“Miranda, this is Julie. Julie, Miranda,” Karen said.

“Hi, Miranda, it’s nice to meet you.” I shook her hand. Her grip was warm, and surprisingly firm.

“I’m glad to meet you too, Julie. Karen’s told me a lot about you.”

I thought about introducing Molly, but decided that could wait. “Why don’t you come inside, and then we’ll introduce everyone else, okay? I have a big family,” I added with a grin.

“All right,” the woman nodded, giving a wink to Molly. Then she went around to the other side of the car and opened the back door to remove the baby from his car seat. At the same time, she knocked on the front seat window. “Come on, Marisol, get out. They won’t bite.”

Reluctantly, it seemed, the child undid her seatbelt and opened the door, slowly getting out. Molly, who had trailed Miranda around the car, glanced briefly at Marisol but kept her attention mainly on the dark-haired infant, now in his mother’s arms.

Karen and I had followed too. Karen took a tote bag Miranda handed her, full of baby things, no doubt. I stood back and watched, trying to smile at Marisol whenever I got the chance, but she always looked away bashfully.

As we made our way toward the house, I checked out Miranda’s figure. She was wearing a loose cotton dress, brightly patterned, along with a quilted dark blue winter jacket and flat shoes. The dress came to just above her knees. Her belly was still slightly plump from having given birth, but her legs were nicely shaped. Her boobs seemed to be large, though I knew that could be mostly because she was a nursing mother and they were full of milk.

I tried to picture Miranda in bed with Karen, making love, maybe with Marisol there too, but it was difficult. Right now they just seemed so domestic, like a happy little family and not very sexual. Of course I knew the two things were not incompatible, not at all.

Mommy held the door wide open. “Come in, come in,” she beamed.

My mother was in a dress too, knee-length, wearing short heels. The clay-colored dress had big white buttons all down the front, with a fabric belt cinching the waist and a fold over collar. It was open enough at the top to reveal some cleavage, and a few buttons were open at the bottom as well, offering tantalizing glimpses of her beautiful thighs.

It made me feel kind of frumpy, wearing jeans and a t-shirt as usual, but it hadn’t occurred to me for some reason to change after we finished cooking. I wondered then if I should run upstairs and put on a little skirt, but decided to wait. Maybe later I’d do that.

“Miranda, welcome,” Mommy exclaimed, once everyone was inside. She hugged the woman, being careful not to squish the baby, and kissed her cheek. “I’m Suzanne.”

“Hi, Suzanne,” said Miranda. “Thank you so much for inviting us. You’re very kind.”

“Not at all. We’re glad to have you.”

“Um, this is Jorge, of course, and that’s Marisol, hiding behind me. Marisol, come on out and say hello now.”

But she wouldn’t, not just then. The darling 8-year-old, whose gorgeous dark brown eyes seemed even bigger than her mother’s, if that was possible, clung tightly to the hem of Miranda’s jacket, face mostly buried, occasionally peeking at us.

That gave Kate a challenge. I’m not really sure why, but my sister has this thing that whenever she sees someone bashful or reticent, she takes it as her duty to bring the person out. And she’s very good at it too, nearly always successful. I saw her looking at Marisol, and I knew what she was thinking — or at least I knew what her mission was.

While the other introductions were being made, Kate marched over to the TV, opening a drawer in the cabinet beneath it and removing a couple of boxes. They were for her video games.

“Can I hold the baby?” Molly asked.

“Sure, you can, honey,” replied Miranda, “but just be careful, all right?”

“I will.”

As Miranda gave Jorge to Molly, and the other women cooed and fawned over him, Kate approached Marisol. She didn’t bother saying hello or anything, just held out one of the boxes and said, “Do you know about spies?”

“Spies?” asked Marisol. It was the first time we’d heard her voice.

“Yeah, undercover spies and evil scientists and stuff like that. This one is my favorite,” Kate said, pointing to a box, “because the hero, Samus Aran, is a girl, like you and me, but really strong and smart and everything, you know?”

“She is?”

“Uh-huh. The game has levels, with each one getting a little harder. At the start, though, it’s pretty easy. You could figure it out, no problem. See, at the beginning, you have to…” and off the two of them went. They walked side by side into the family room, Marisol forgetting completely about her mother, and about her shyness.

The rest of us gradually followed them into the family room as well, with various overlapping conversations going on, mostly involving how cute the baby was. Molly sat down on the sofa, holding Jorge on her lap, and Chelsea sat right next to her. Samantha was with Kate and Marisol now. The three of them were standing by the TV, looking at different video games that Kate had taken out of the drawer and discussing them.

As for me, I took Miranda’s jacket, and Karen’s, and Marisol’s too, and hung them in the coat closet. On the way back, I detoured past the kitchen to get a tempting whiff of those cinnamon buns — I was really hungry!

Everyone sat for a few minutes, just getting acquainted, and then Mommy asked Miranda if they were ready for brunch. We all got up and went into the dining room. The table was set, with the extra leaves added, making room for twelve. My mother brought a pot of coffee and I poured juice.

Because we didn’t have a high chair, Jorge got passed from person to person as we enjoyed our quiche and the sticky buns. He didn’t appear to mind this at all, just looking around wide-eyed and never making a peep. Although he didn’t smile much, he seemed very observant, taking everything in. Miranda said she’d fed him just before they left, so he wouldn’t be hungry again for another hour or two and probably would take a nap after that.

The cinnamon buns were a huge hit, of course. We’d made a double batch, and there were plenty to go around. I forced myself to eat two, and I wasn’t the only one who did. Kate and Molly and Samantha and Megan all had second helpings as well.

After we finished eating, Dana and I cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher, then joined the group in the family room. My mom and Karen were on the sofa along with Miranda, who was holding Jorge again, bouncing him on her lap as he gurgled happily. Kate was sitting in one armchair, Megan in the other. I’d helped Molly bring her giant dollhouse down from her room earlier in the day, and now she and Chelsea and Samantha and Marisol were playing with it.

Without any hesitation, Dana got down on the floor with the little kids, involving herself in their game. They accepted her easily as one of them. It was amazing to me how my big sister could be an adult part of the time, functioning fine as a grownup, but just as often appeared quite comfortable in the role of a child. I really admired that quality, such flexibility, although for her it didn’t seem to take any effort at all. It just came naturally.

After looking around for a moment, trying to decide where to park myself, I made a decision. Now would be the perfect time to change my clothes. So, I trotted up to my bedroom, pulled out a short skirt and a tank top and quickly put them on, wearing nothing under them but a pair of white panties. Then I went back downstairs.

The first thing I heard almost made my eyes pop out.

“We have sex on the weekends, the kids and I,” my mother was saying to Miranda, “but not on school nights, that’s my rule.”

“It’s a good rule, I guess,” commented Dana, from her seat on the floor, “but me and Chelsea can’t always manage that. Sometimes I just have to have her anyway, even if it is a school night, you know?”

Miranda chuckled, “Yeah, I usually only get to see Karen on the weekends, but during the week Marisol and I sleep together every night, and it’s not only sleep, if you know what I mean.”

I could hardly believe they were actually discussing all this so openly. It was stunning. Karen was wide-eyed too, I saw, as were Kate and Megan — but as for Miranda and Dana and my mom, this seemed to be no more controversial to them than if they were talking about grocery shopping.

“When did you start with Marisol?” my mother casually asked Miranda. I knew she already knew the answer to the question, because of the things I’d told her (with permission from Karen), but I suppose Mommy figured that getting Miranda to talk about all this stuff would help her relax.

The woman certainly looked relaxed, sitting with her legs apart like a young girl, smiling prettily, holding hands with Karen. My mom had the baby now. I glanced at Marisol, still engrossed in dollhouse play with the others. This adult conversation about sex — lesbian incest! — didn’t seem to faze her in the least. I plopped down on the floor, facing the sofa and sitting cross-legged, leaning back on my hands, showing my panties.

After gazing at my crotch for a moment, Miranda winked at me then replied to my mother, “Well, it started, I guess, when she was around five… although in a way I suppose you could say it’s been going on a lot longer. I mean, even when she was just a baby, like Jorge, I would masturbate when I nursed her, you know?”

“Yeah, I know, I did that too, with all three of my girls,” nodded my mom. Then she said to Megan, “Did you do that with Samantha, when you were nursing?”

“No, actually I didn’t nurse her,” the redhead shrugged, “not for very long anyway. I tried, but it didn’t really work. I had to start her on formula after about a week because she was losing weight.”

“Yes, I know it can be that way sometimes, for some women,” said Mommy, commiserating.

“I didn’t masturbate when I was nursing Chelsea,” said Dana, “but I did later — or what I mean is, when she was in bed with me, sleeping, I would. I did it a lot, practically every night. She always slept with me, I mean, she never had a crib. She didn’t have her own bed until she was six. And I always masturbated when she was sleeping with me. It just felt nice, holding her, maybe kissing her, and playing with myself.”

My mother and Miranda smiled and nodded. They understood the special kind of pleasure Dana was describing. Among the four moms, apparently only Megan had not masturbated while sleeping with her baby or nursing her. It made me wonder how common it really was, if a lot of women did that.

Jorge was starting to get a little fussy. “I think he’s hungry,” said Miranda, taking him from my mom. She looked around at the rest of us for a moment, then grinned, “After all we’ve talked about, I’m sure you won’t mind if I feed him right here, will you?”

“Are you going to play with yourself too, while you do it?” my mother leered.

“No, probably not,” Miranda chuckled, “at least not until I know you better.”

The scoop neck dress the woman had on was loose enough that she was able to push one short sleeve off her shoulder and down her arm, pulling out her hand. Then she unhooked a flap on one side of her bra and exposed a full breast. It was brown with a wide areola and a dark nipple, already turgid, the tip shiny with moisture. I could see stretch marks on the breast.

Miranda positioned Jorge and he began feeding. The little girls had all got up from their game and were gathered around, watching closely. For Marisol, it was no big deal, obviously, but for the rest of them, including me, this wasn’t something we got to see every day. I was about five years old when Mommy stopped nursing Molly, and I don’t remember it very well. And when Kate was a baby, I was still just a toddler and have no memories of that at all. So this was fun.

What was really interesting, though, was not observing Miranda suckle Jorge, but how my mom reacted. After watching them for a few minutes, she began opening more buttons on the front of her dress, and undid the fabric belt too. Her lacy black bra had a front closure, which she opened as well, freeing her boobs. My mother took both of her large, beautiful breasts in her hands and squeezed them, pinching the nipples. She was obviously very turned on.

Miranda smiled at her. “He’s almost done,” she commented, nodding at Jorge. “But before he finishes, do you want to take him for a minute? I can rub some of my milk on your nipple, so he’ll suck even if he doesn’t get anything.”

“Mmm, my god, yes, I’d love that,” Mommy purred.

What followed was just incredible. Miranda gently pulled Jorge away, kissed his forehead, then placed him in our mother’s lap. Leaning close, so their breasts were almost touching, she squeezed her nipple, expressing milk. It actually squirted onto my mom’s chest at first, which made them both laugh. But then she squeezed a bit more gently and the milk dribbled over my mother’s erect nipple, Miranda used her fingers to rub it around, making Mommy catch her breath with excitement. Then she lifted the baby, bringing his mouth to the breast. It seemed to me he frowned briefly, maybe surprised at having a different tit to suck on, but settled in quickly enough.

Jorge didn’t nurse for long, since he wasn’t really getting any nourishment, but it was clearly very satisfying for my mother. She stroked his head, petting his dark hair, and cooed to him. I could see that she was squeezing her legs together too, stimulating her clit. After a couple of minutes, he appeared to be finished, and it also looked like he was just about asleep. His eyes were closed, his mouth slack.

Miranda had fastened the flap on her bra and pulled the sleeve of her dress back up. She said quietly, “We should probably go home now. But this was really nice. Thanks so much for inviting us.”

I was hoping Mommy might argue with her a little, ask them to stay longer, but she didn’t. “All right,” she nodded, giving the baby a tender hug before handing him back to his mother.

We all got up and walked to the door, my mom hooking her bra but not bothering to close up her dress. I retrieved the jackets from the coat closet, distributing them to Miranda, Karen, and Marisol, and we kissed them goodbye. Miranda thanked my mother again, promising to call and to visit again soon, and then they left.

As soon the front door was closed, I discovered why Mommy had not tried to make them stay longer. It was because she was so intensely eager to have sex with us — with Molly in particular — and simply couldn’t stand any delay.

“Molly,” she commanded, her eyes wild with excitement, “I need you to suck my tits. Now — okay?”

“Okay, Mommy,” nodded my little sister, smiling happily.

“Come on,” my mother said, taking her hand and leading her back to the sofa. “Take off your, uh, take off all your clothes. I want you naked, all right?”

“Okay,” Molly giggled, quickly pulling off her shorts and shirt and undies.

The rest of us followed them in, and watched as my mom shoved her dress down and stepped out of it, leaving it on the floor. Her shoes were already off. She unhooked the bra again, flinging it away, then shimmied out of her panties. Now she was naked too. She was panting, turning red in the face — a woman in heat.

She placed Molly on the sofa, on her back, then knelt above her, lowering a nipple to her mouth. “Suck my nipple, little girl,” she urged, “suck Mommy’s nipple.”

Molly was more than willing to do this, of course, as she always was. She took the nipple in and contentedly began to suck, closing her eyes.

“Wow,” I heard Megan breathe.

Mommy petted her daughter’s curly blonde hair for a few seconds, then mounted her, positioning herself so their pussies were together. With her nipple still in Molly’s mouth, she started to ride, fucking her.

“Oh my god,” said Megan. I glanced at her, and saw that the woman had pulled her short dress up to her waist and had a hand inside her panties, rubbing her clit. Then I noticed that Dana was masturbating too, as was Kate.

I whipped off my t-shirt and shoved my skirt and panties down in a bundle, quickly getting nude. Then I crouched by the sofa, moving in very close, wanting to see everything. I saw Molly sucking Mommy’s nipple, and I looked down at where they were joined, at their pussies. I could smell the slippery lubrication, my mother’s abundant juices, and I could see how very wet she was — a shiny slickness oozing out of her cunt, covering my little sister’s hairless vulva as my mom slid up and down on her.

I was masturbating too, of course, fingers moving very fast between my legs. But then I felt something, or someone. I glanced down and saw that it was Kate. She was lying on the floor, on her back, tugging at my legs, trying to get me to sit on her face. I gladly went along, loving the feel of her warm tongue lapping at my sex.

Briefly I looked around the room, finding that the others were going at it too, moms and daughters, Megan with Samantha, Dana with Chelsea. Then I returned my attention to my own mother, watching her fuck my sister.

She was talking about it, too. “Fucking you, fucking you, fucking your little girl pussy,” Mommy said as she humped her 9-year-old daughter. “Little girl pussy, fucking little girl pussy…”

But she wanted more. She wanted Molly to ask for it. Raising up just enough to pull her nipple from my sister’s mouth while still humping her, Mommy said, “Tell me you want me to fuck you.”

“I do,” Molly grinned, licking her lips. We all knew how much our mother loved this kind of dirty talk. “Fuck me, Mommy, fuck me with your pussy! Make me come!”

“That’s right,” panted my mom. “You want to come, little girl? Want your Mommy to fuck you and make you come?”

She was moving faster and faster. I could tell she was getting very close, and so was I. Kate’s fingers and tongue were working wonders.

“Uh-huh,” Molly said, “fuck me, Mommy! Fuck me with your cunt! Fuck me, Mommy, and make me come!”

Well, I don’t know if Molly did come, or not. Probably she did, and I’m sure my mother did, but I wasn’t really aware of much at all for a minute or two after that because — BOOM! — my own climax was so strong, so spectacular, that it practically knocked me out of this world. I came all over Kate’s face, gasping and groaning, eyes squeezed shut, spasms bursting from my center again and again and again until I thought I would explode.

* * *

We enjoyed another lovely lesbian incest orgy that Sunday afternoon, although this was a bit different from the fun we’d had the day before. First, it was continuous, not mingled with any other activities, and second, this one was almost entirely focused on our mother.

Mommy lay back on the sofa, long legs spread wide, fingers holding her pussy open, begging us one after another to eat her, to make her come. This time, it was she who was insatiable, much more than I had ever been. She simply couldn’t get enough.

We all licked her more than once, both the kids and the adults — taking turns, sometimes even two at a time. She climaxed again and again, yet still kept pleading for more. I don’t know how many orgasms she had, but it must have been dozens, more than I thought was possible for one woman to have without passing out.

Eventually she did pass out, and that was a sight to see. She’s so beautiful anyway, and to look at her like that — covered in sweat, her blonde hair going everywhere, a total mess, and with her pussy and the cushion beneath it soaked with her juices — my god, it made me love her more than ever. She’s utterly devoted to everything that’s important to her: her work, her family, and hot lesbian sex. My mother does nothing half way. What a woman!

I cuddled up with her on the sofa, holding her, stroking her, kissing her, telling her how much I loved her. I’m not sure what the others were doing then, but it really didn’t matter, I just wanted to be with my mom, the love of my life, to hold her tight, even if she was mostly unconscious.

After a few minutes, she came around. By then, it was getting close to dinner time, but she said she wasn’t hungry. I led my mother groggily upstairs and put her to bed. She fell asleep immediately. This wasn’t normal at all for her, sleeping at that time of day, and it made me wonder if she might be sick, but that wasn’t it. She was simply exhausted.

I went downstairs and reported that Mommy was conked out. No one seemed surprised, after what she’d been through. Dana and Kate fixed supper for the rest of us, nothing fancy, just tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches, but it was very nice. We cleaned up the dishes, and then Megan and Dana both left to go home, along with their daughters.

Molly and Kate and I watched a movie — Toy Story 2, which we loved — then went to bed ourselves. Before I feel asleep, however, while I was still sitting up, reading a novel, my mom came into my room. She thanked me for taking care of her, told me she would love me forever, and kissed me deeply.

We turned off the light, made love one last time, and then she slept with me in my bed. I was the happiest girl ever.

Continue on to Chapter 121

 

13 Comments on The Joy of Looking, Chapter 120

  1. JetBoy says:

    A hundred and twenty chapters down the line and I’m still eagerly awaiting new installments, savoring each one like a ripe strawberry. A milestone in lesbian erotica? Absolutely.

  2. Kelliebelle says:

    That was so amazing! I love reading how turned on mommy was…so hot from nursing the little baby. I also liked imagining the mommies masturbating when nursing. I’ve been doing some rp about this recently, so it was so perfect! thank you Naughty Mommy…thank you so much. Time to read this one more time …this time I’ll let myself cum!

  3. Thanks very much to both of you! So glad you’re enjoying the story. And by the way, if lactation play turns you on, just wait for Chapter 125… 😉

    • Kelliebelle says:

      I never really thought I’d get into it, but I was in a rp a few weeks ago and things just kinda went in that direction, I just went with it. It ended up being one of the hottest scenes I’d ever done. I felt safe, warm, loved and sexy at the same time. I won’t even tell you where I ended up in my mind- where my imagination took me. It shocked me afterwards…even felt a bit ashamed. Funny how the Mind works.

  4. Sally says:

    another great chapter naughty mommy I was so horny after reading it

  5. Joe says:

    An amazing chapter. I can’t wait until chapter 125, and well every chapter in between. Again, all I can say is amazing.

    Thank you.

  6. Charles Rosenberg says:

    The lactation and fisting get me hard. Would love to read about the girls having milk squirted into their pussies and the moms get fisted (or double fisted) by the younger girls.

  7. mommyjanice says:

    The lesbian love between Julie and Suzanne, mother and daughter, keeps me wet for hours. Ty Naughty Mommy

  8. Thank you, mommyjanice! I’m curious, though — do you mean a love scene in this chapter? Or something earlier, perhaps all the way back in Chapter 61, when they really made love for the first time?

  9. mommyjanice says:

    It started in chapter 61, and continued at the beginning of this chapter with:

    “Mommy and I fell asleep in her bed that night without ever leaving her room or seeing anyone else. They thoughtfully left us to ourselves, knowing that sometimes we wanted and needed to be alone with one another, bonding as lifetime lovers. It was heavenly.”

    Mother and daughter, lifetime lovers, makes me sooo wet

    • Poppabear or PoppaClyde2 says:

      This afternoon, mommyjanice, you told us you were “soaking wet” after reading chapter 118. There are lots of social situations where the response would have been “too much information.” Not here.

      It seems that “moist” is one of the words many women don’t like to hear, or use, in what is still called “polite society” or “hypocritical society” if we are being honest.

      The honesty of all the comments here, not just about NM’s family saga, but also about the great stories of Cheryl and JB, is one of the joys of this site. You girls are just so assured, here, of your real feelings, you put the guys here, and guys everywhere, to shame.

      You know, don’t you, that guys don’t ever admit to masturbating. We use our slang terms for it as insults – jerk and wanker. Real men don’t wank. Only little boys and old men (like me) do that. Real men screw women (such a harsh term) all the time. As they say in Liverpool, “Deydodoughdon’tdeydough”. And, as they say in Glasgow, “Do they, fuck!”

      As Woody Allen has his character say in Annie Hall, “Don’t knock masturbation. It’s sex with someone I love.”

      And as I say, “Enjoy yourselves! Nobody loves you, or knows you, better than you do.”

      I’ve been visiting sites like this one for about twenty years, and this one, despite my enjoyment of the much missed Story Friends Board, is the friendliest, most generous site I’ve ever visited.

      We all know the authors are great, but all you members make this site what it is – the best.

  10. harlequin says:

    How beautiful!
    I loved the breastfeeding part, so sweet and hot…
    Naughty Mommy, you are my heroine!

    <3 <3 <3

  11. David says:

    It was a very erotic chapter and I loved that part with the breast feeding. I know a woman that use to do masturbate as her daughter suckled her and would have tremendous orgasms. Thanks NM and I look forward to reading on.

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