Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

By Sammy

I had been expecting some awkwardness, at the very least, the next time I saw Brenda after our abandoned make-out session in the car. But not only was she cordial and even charming, she seemed to be brimming with an entirely new sense of confidence, in every aspect of herself. She was both firmer and more patient on the ice with Lizzie, and afterwards, as we sat again in her driveway, she confided in me that she had worked up the nerve to ask out a girl at her skating club she had long nursed a crush on, and that the girl, Shirley, had said yes, and that, in the fashion of sweet doe-eyed kids everywhere, they had already committed to each other, exclusively. Our actions the last time we were in this same place together went undiscussed. The closest we got was my pledge not to mention anything to her parents, as she had yet to come out to them. So I bid Brenda a sweet farewell before she skipped to her front door.

I have to say I was disappointed not to get the chance to trample over the reservations I was bound to obliterate anyway, but on the other hand, I got to keep about the best babysitter and trainer possible for my daughter.

And sure, the sweet little pup was sniffing around someone a little more age-appropriate, but it wasn’t as if I was lacking for litters.

I can still remember every impression as I trailed my little girl into the rink’s massive locker room for her first province-wide competition, at eight years old. The sound of my heels was met and snuffed at once by the excited chatter of young girls, my eyes overwhelmed by the sight of soft mewling bodies, crammed into every crevice, wriggling little piggies you’d positively die to wrestle down all wet and slippery. Each narrow aisle was packed tight with tighter girl flesh, nearly as beautiful mothers fussing over their daughters in panties and stockings and singlets, some even blessed with burgeoning chests and nipples just ripe enough to top the tantalizing mounds underneath. Their fine, lilting voices tickled the ear like a tune you only just realized you’d been humming all day. Or maybe all your life.

“Felicia!” Lizzie squealed suddenly, running over to the young girl. She was an enchanting little moppet with a lustrous brown bob and glittering emerald eyes I’m sure had gotten her more than a few extra tenths in competitions.

My daughter and I had arrived late, and most of the other girls were finishing up and heading out to the ice. Paulette offered to stay with us until Lizzie was finished. I was a little disappointed I wouldn’t be getting any more alone time with my daughter before the most important skate of her life, until Felicia suddenly started stripping down so that her friend “wouldn’t hafta be in her underwear all alone.” My eyes weren’t the only thing getting wet as I was treated to the sight of that scrumptious bottom in sky blue panties, bent over right in front of me unfastening her skates.

I managed to tear myself away and turned back to Paulette, seeing to my surprise that she was focused intently on Lizzie’s chest, slowly coming into view as she unbuttoned her floral dress. Felicia’s mother bit her lip just barely enough for me to notice and let out a soft sigh before catching herself and meeting my eyes, startled.

“Lizzie, she’s, uh, a lovely girl, Abby. Truly.”

I smiled at her. “As is Felicia.”

“It’s rude to talk about us like we aren’t here, you know!” Felicia chided us as she sucked her tummy in under her tights.

“Oh, hush,” Paulette chuckled. She twirled a finger or two into her daughter’s hair and looked sideways at me. “And not only are our girls impossibly lovely, but they just might be the two best skaters under ten in the country. So Abby and I will brag about you all we like, thank you very much.”

She stomped and bent down to her bag. “Fine.”

“So what do you think, Felicia?” I nudged her shoulder with my hip. “Gonna catch up to Lizzie soon?” The girls had basically been trading plaudits back and forth since they’d started at the club and my daughter was one or two up.

“Not if she lands that stupid Salchow today, I bet.”

“God, I’m an awful skate mom,” Paulette laughed. “I still couldn’t tell you what the hell that thing is. Or pronounce it.”

. . . . .

 

Well, Lizzie landed her Salchow, two in fact, and skated a very clean program, enough to have her leading the pack comfortably. Until Felicia.

I know it’s silliness to say an eight-year-old delivered the performance of a lifetime, but you’ll have to take my word for it.

Her music skipped when she was about to start, causing her to stumble slightly and Paulette to put my hand in a death grip, which would last, tight and hot, until the judges revealed their near-perfect scores. I’d sound foolish trying to describe how Felicia’s program earned those scores in technical terms, probably more so in poetic, but she was wonderful, beautiful, a portrait of grace. I stole several glances at Paulette, side-eyeing the intense gaze that clearly went beyond motherly devotion, a focus undercut by the same lazy half-conscious lip-chewing I had noticed when my daughter was dressing. In that moment, I knew for sure. That she was feeling what I always felt while watching Lizzie, that tummy-twisting blend of moistening arousal and filial affection; the awe that something so obviously perfect could have exited your very own body, and the not-unpleasant shame of desperately wishing you could slide it back inside, oh-so-slowly.

When Tchaikovsky stopped and the rest of the crowd rose to rapturous applause, I looked over one more time and found Paulette’s eyes in mine. We smiled at each other, neither speaking.

Despite having lost, Lizzie couldn’t have been happier for Felicia and, by the time Paulette and I reached our girls in the welcome area, they were making breathless plans to practice and teach each other everything they had learned when the other was absent. When they spotted us, Felicia leapt and nuzzled into her mother.

“Mommy, can Lizzie come to Aunt Sarah’s, too? Pleeeease?”

“Can I, Momma?”

“Well, as long as it’s all right with Felicia’s aunt, I suppose so.”

Paulette turned to me, still clinging to her daughter. “Trust me, my sister won’t mind housing one more adorable future Olympian.”

“Fine,” I sighed mock-dramatically. “I’ll go home all by my lonesome and cry into my wine.”

“… Got enough room in that glass for two sets of tears?”

I was stunned briefly into silence, and she stumbled. “I mean, just… if you were doing nothing anyway, why don’t we keep each other company?”

“Yeah, like a date! Felly, our mommies are going on a da-a-a-te!” They both giggled.

“I saw them looking at each other when I finished my skate. They’re probably in love.”

“Are you, Mommy? Are you in l-o-o-o-v-e?” I swung my side into her in a gentle hip check. She wrapped her little arms around me and laughed again. My heart swelled.

“Sure, Paulette. I’d love to.” I was actually about to ask My place or yours? “Why don’t you come by after you drop the girls off.”

“That sounds great. Should be about 8:00, if that’s okay.”

“I’ll see you then.”

. . . . .

 

We were halfway through our second bottle when I finally worked myself up enough.

“Paulette…I saw you looking at Lizzie. I mean, I saw the way you looked at her…”

She closed her eyes and let her head fall back onto the cushion. “I was waiting for this,” she sighed. “Or dreading it. Mostly because I like you too much to lie. That, and I’m fucking awful at it.” She paused, head in hands, then began with lame hurried excuses I won’t bother repeating, as if what she’d already said hadn’t amounted to an admission.

“It’s okay, Paulette.” I placed my hand on hers, which was fidgeting on the top of the sofa. “Really.” She stopped and looked at me, waiting. “I understand. More than I think you know.”

She paused and furrowed her brow in that wonderful half-drunk way and gawked at me. “Abby…I had no…I mean, when? When did you know?”

So I told her. Everything. From the first furtive rumblings to my full dip in the imagined delights of my daughter. Paulette seemed to take immediately to my reminiscences of stealing into Lizzie’s room, so I dawdled there, on my reprimanding myself the first time I raided her laundry, then the relief, the ecstatic relief when I finally let go and held the dainty things over my face, on her bed, inhaling her, tasting her, fantasizing far beyond that. Before I knew it, Paulette and I were melting into each other, our lips restless and hands so marvelously mobile; it was the first time I’d touched a woman’s breast since college, and I relished it. I paid close attention to her nipples and took no small amount of pride in how sharply they emerged underneath her blouse. When my lips reached her neck, she abruptly put her hands on my shoulders and pulled back.

“I… have to use the washroom.”

“Sure,” I blanched, “just up the stairs on your right.”

While she was gone, my hands vacillated between flitting my fingers in anxiety and palming my crotch in, well, you know.

All of my reservations disappeared when Paulette’s feet left the bottom stair.

She had squeezed herself into a pair of Lizzie’s panties — guess what color? — her belly pooching over only slightly and her auburn pubes peeking delectably out of the sides. Her eyes were cast downwards and she seemed hesitant to speak. I wasn’t sure if this bashfulness was part of whatever game she was playing, but I was sure it didn’t matter. I took some sick pleasure in her squirming until, finally, she spoke.

“Mommy… I couldn’t sleep.”

“Oh…” I thought I was prepared, but she startled me anyway. I was almost too horny to respond. “I’m sorry to hear that, baby. Why don’t you come over here?” I patted the cushion beside me and watched her saunter over intently. Her pout was nearly perfect, but a tiny smile snuck out as she nestled into my chest.

“I love you so much, Mommy…” She purred, girlishly pawing my breast.

“I… love you too, baby.” I had barely finished my sentence when her lips were on my neck. “Oh, my…are you sure that’s a good idea… Lizzie?” She didn’t even blink. She was committed now. “Is this what you want?”

“I want it so much, Mommy. And of course it’s a good idea. I love you and you love me… right?”

I sighed in pleasure and sank back into the couch, her hands outpacing her lips and making quick work of the buttons on my blouse. She palmed my tits under my bra and seemed to strip it off in the same moment. Her lips wrapped around my nipple and I moaned, loudly. “Oh, baby, that feels so good…”

“Mmm… I’m glad, Mommy.” She suckled greedily. “Do you remember when I used to do this? When I was a baby?”

“I do, I do…” My mind raced. “You were such a tiny, beautiful thing. So thirsty. I loved having you next to me… my little baby…. attached to me like that.”

“I bet you felt close to me, huh?”

I looked down at Paulette, at her eager, glowing face, and realized I was performing for her as much as she was for me. “I did, baby… we were one, you and I. It was almost like having you back inside me again.”

She grunted. “Hrmph, Mommy, I think you know we don’t have to settle for almost…” She unclasped my slacks and cupped me, closely, outside my panties. “You just have to want it.”

“Oh God, Lizzie… I want it. So bad. You have no idea.”

“I think I have some idea, Mommy. You made a puddle in your panties!”

I had to laugh. “That’s what my little girl does to me. You make Mommy all wet.”

“Can you check if I’m wet, Mommy? I’m not sure. I mean, I’ve never, ever felt like this before… ”

“Of course I can, baby.” I could barely breathe. “Turn around for Mommy.”

She stretched out on her stomach across the couch. I slid my hands up her legs, cupping her plump ass cheeks, and urged her thighs apart. “Oh my…”

“What…?”

“You are very wet, Lizzie. So wet for Mommy…”

I plunged my fingers inside her, through her panties, which were soaked indeed. She ground her crotch into the cushions and moaned into her forearm. “Fuck me, Mommy, fuck me…”

“I am, baby…” I assured her, slipping past the damp barriers of cotton and hair, her heat seeming to spread up my arm and everywhere.

“No.” She turned around and looked straight at me. “You have to fuck me. Now.”

And so I was carrying her up the stairs, past Lizzie’s room, to which both our gazes drifted a half-second apart and causing us to share a smile when we caught each other. I felt my love for Lizzie surge as I realized that the pleasure I was about to indulge in wouldn’t have been possible without her, compounded moments later as I fell softly with Paulette to the mattress, bodies and lips meeting simultaneously, as they had with my daughter, on that moonlit night so long ago.

But now, I was resolute — there was no shame; nothing but blind, searching pleasure as I feasted on Paulette’s body, uncovered piece by succulent piece as she hurriedly undressed beneath me. When the panties were all that were left, I paused, overcome by the moment, wanting to tell her what this all meant to me.

“I don’t want to break the spell…” I eked out, almost panting at the sight before me.

Paulette looked up at me, her hand pausing on her breast, which she’d been pinching and pawing. “So don’t.”

And so I was there and pressing my face into Paulette’s crotch, barely covered by the damp fabric of my daughter’s panties, sweet layers of scents washing over me. The soft pillow of pubic hair pressing up underneath didn’t detract from the fantasy, but rather the opposite: my daughter was growing with me, into me, from the little girl I still dreamt of nightly to the woman I always knew she could be, writhing and moaning as I drew her nectar in ecstasy down my throat.

“Feels so good, Mommy… ”

“Tastes so good, baby… so sweet.”

She pulled me in deeper, fingers joining across the back of my head and hips humping up and down, back and forth, smearing her innermost all over my face. “You’re so good for Mommy,” I managed to moan in between thrusts, “Just like I always knew you would be.”

“Mmm, and how long have you wanted me, Mommy?”

“So long, baby… Mommy’s wanted you… needed you for so fucking long.”

“Well… you have me, Mommy. So what are you gonna do with me?”

I looked up to an exquisite, impish grin. “Mommy’s gonna fuck you, Lizzie.” And then my face was full of pussy, tongue probing, my not-daughter cooing and pulsing with every taut muscle I had the pleasure of touching. I kissed my way down her most intimate stretch, her reactions seeming to increase in intensity the further south I got. When I reached that perfect rosebud, I stretched my mouth as wide as I could, sucking up every stray ass hair and cleaning the tangles diligently.

“Oh! Oh, so good… Ooh!” Paulette yelped and bayed, as if struggling to hold onto language itself. “B-but… but… ”

“What, baby?”

“Can I… taste you, Mommy?”

“You mean… ”

“Your pussy, Mommy. Can I taste… your pussy?”

“Do you really want to, Lizzie?”

“I’ve… ” I saw her blush when I looked up from her cunt. “I’ve wanted to for a really long time, Mommy.”

“Really?”

“Of course I have,” she said, as she swiveled her sweet lower self on top of my face. “How could I not? You’re so pretty, and caring, and loving. I can’t help but think all the day about how you love me so much… ”

“And I do, Lizzie. So much.”

“And… I love looking up from the ice, and seeing you looking at me.”

At that point she started thrusting, if just by reflex, urging herself into my waiting mouth. She knew I was thirsting for her, and knew I knew she wanted me just as badly.

I managed to take a breath. “You like that, baby? Mommy fucking your face?”

“I do, Mommy, so, so much. I love having my mama’s pussy in my face… in my mouth…” I pumped up to meet her, Paulette’s lips sucking up my stiff clit, hands spreading my ass apart and my clenching, puckering asshole opened up.

We switched after that. Me in the illustrious role of Felicia, getting to scream Mommy! myself in orgasm for the first time in I don’t know how long. And after that, which I think I had been anticipating even more, Paulette took her turn charting the course of her own fixation with her daughter, which mirrored mine closely, down to our mutual summit of a not-quite make-out.

. . . . .

 

I wouldn’t say we were an item after that, but we slept with each other far more than either slept with anyone else. Without her, I’m not sure how I would have survived the next few years. Nor, as she later confided, was she: we were each other’s outlets in our perverse desires, each other’s distractions from our task at hand, namely keeping the ice clean as our daughters skated their butts around the country. As tempted as I had been to show Lizzie all about grown-up kissing and then some, Paulette helped me avoid that potentially devastating decision, and the urgency with which she insisted we ‘use’ each other no doubt a reflection of her own hesitation with Felicia. I was both grateful and resentful. I never stopped wanting Lizzie.

The girls kept getting better and more experienced until, shortly after Lizzie’s tenth birthday, they received special permission to try and qualify for the Canadian Under-18 championships, where no girls under 12 had ever competed. Paulette and I were hesitant to let them up against something so big so soon, but they made their case together and we were won over by their passion and remarkable levelheadedness. Lizzie and I decided she would train with Brenda at her Aunt Ellen’s skating school up north (she was the one who turned Brenda onto my mother in the first place). Brenda had recently broken up with the girl from her skating club and so redirected all her energy into skating and training, Lizzie and others. She was already at the camp with a small group of girls, but would be full time with Liz from the time she arrived.

The night before we were to drive up, I was settling into bed when I heard a knock at the door.

“Can I come in?”

“Of course, darling. Come here.” I sat up and welcomed her into my arms. “What is it? Are you all set for tomorrow?”

“Yeah. I just… I just wanted to thank you for everything. I know I wouldn’t have been able to qualify for anything if it wasn’t for you.” She nestled into my neck and I felt a spot of wetness on my skin there. I struggled to respond to her, but quickly found it unnecessary as she brought her head back and set her eyes onto mine, communicating all that was needed. In an instant our mouths were together.

We were frozen, or so it seemed, my daughter instinctively waiting for my lead into this strangely familiar territory and me unsure of how to proceed. I started slowly, retracting my bottom lip a smidge and letting her hear my intake of breath as I switched top for bottom and continued to softly knead her lips with mine, urging my daughter to do the same. We synced up instantly and soon drifted lost into our intimate rhythms, our own individually and the primitive ones we were just starting to learn together. I hesitantly touched my tongue to her lips and she pulled away. My fears were quickly allayed.

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you like that again, Mommy.” Her eyes peered up at me. “For a really long time.”

“Oh sweetie, I have too. I’ve never enjoyed kissing anyone more than you. Not even close.” She smiled and bowed her head.

“Did the tongue freak you out?” I tried to smile when she looked up at me but felt very awkward.

“No! I mean, a little… I liked it, but…”

I cupped her chin. “You decide what happens, Lizzie. Always. Never forget that.”

She looked about to cry. “Oh, Mommy! I still want to go tomorrow, but I don’t wanna leave you. Not now. Not like this.”

“Shhh, my love.” I stroked her hair and urged her to my chest, where she nuzzled and mewled. “You’re going to go and meet up with Brenda, learn a lot and have a really, really great time, and then come home and kick butt at the Nationals. Right?”

She perked up and grinned. “Right.” There she was. I could almost see the podium in her pupils.

“We’ll talk all the time. And of course I’ll visit.”

“Okay. I’ll see you in the morning, Mommy. Good night.”

“Good night, Lizzie. I love you, sweetheart.”

I could see her blush in the low light, even as she reached the door. “I love you too, Mommy.”

“Forever and always, darling. Always.”

. . . . .

 

So here we are.

Lizzie at Aunt Ellen’s. Brenda preparing her for glory and glamour. And me and my bottles of cheap, cheap red.

Well, not just me. Paulette’s coming over later, with a basket or two.

I’ve cried my tears. We have laundry to do.

Continue on to Chapter 3