Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

By Chrestomathist

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

Melinda’s heart was in her throat, and she could feel her palms getting clammy.

Her fourteen-year-old daughter Kendra was upstairs getting changed and packed to spend the night at her friend Jackie’s house. Jackie, also fourteen, was sitting on the couch next to Melinda, waiting. Jackie’s father was on his way to pick the girls up. The moment had an urgency to it, at least to Melinda. Melinda had developed a puppylove crush on Jackie, and had imagined being alone with her many times. Now they were on the couch together, moments slipping away until either Kendra came bounding downstairs with her backpack and pillow, or Jackie’s father knocked on the door.

Melinda was straight (as far as she knew), five years a widow, a devoted single mom to Kendra, and had fallen for Jackie as hard as she had for her first boyfriend when she herself was fourteen, twenty one years ago. Her crush on Jackie had developed so slowly, so subtly that she barely even fought it. It started out as simple admiration, simply liking her daughter’s friend — she was funny, warm, intelligent, a good, reliable friend, ally an co-conspirator to Kendra — and being happy she seemed so normal. Over weeks, months, Jackie started to seep into her daydreams. Then her fantasies, when she was getting herself off at night. The first time that had happened had been startling, she would admit, but then it came naturally. At first she would just picture Jackie’s pretty oval face, which defaulted to such a serene expression but which burst into the brightest smile sometimes. She would imagine that heartbreaking smile as her orgasm peaked and it would feed its intensity.

Eventually she started really fantasizing about the girl — they would be naked together, Jackie atop her, they would be grinding their crotches together and making out sloppily. She came with such force she would collapse, spent, imagining an also spent Jackie cuddling with and cooing at her.

Melinda had never maneuvered to get Jackie alone, because she never imagined acting on her fantasies. She lived a ten minute drive away, with her parents and little sister. She was fourteen! What were they going to do, go out on a date, Melinda hoping to get lucky? That was part of what brought an urgency to the moment, there on the couch, Kendra and her belongings thumping around upstairs.

“So how are you?” Melinda asked clumsily, reaching out almost unconsciously and stroking Jackie’s arm. Jackie smiled That Smile, but with slightly raised eyebrows, a little surprised.

“I’m fine, Mrs. Moore,” she said, her smile transforming into a conspiratorial smirk. “You look great. Are you still going to the gym?”

Melinda’s heart thumped. She looked great! Jackie knew she went to the gym! She hadn’t realized how much emotionally she had riding on Jackie’s response to her little arm-stroking outburst until she didn’t shrug like a teenager and mumble something and get up and go upstairs to join her friend. “You’re sweet,” she squeaked, and she did the arm stroke again. “Twice a week,” she said.

“I can really tell,” Jackie said, earnestly, Melinda thought. Jackie’s eyes went wide. “Not that you looked bad before!” Melinda thought she might melt.

“Oh, honey,” she said, this time laying her hand on the girl’s thigh. “I know what you meant. You really are sweet.” Stupidly — she felt — Melinda patted Jackie’s knee, then gave her thigh a stroke before withdrawing. She tried to keep herself from wincing. Don’t ruin this! she urged herself. She felt like she was the fourteen year old. Jackie smiled again, and an awkward silence began to bloom.

Panicking, Melinda bolted up from the couch. “Do you want to go see what’s taking Kendra so long?” Melinda could feel her face flush. What was THAT all about? She was trying to make Jackie go upstairs? And what was this “taking so long?” Kendra wasn’t taking long! God, Jackie was going to think she was on drugs or something.

To her surprise and delight, Jackie bobbed up next to her. “That’s ok, I don’t mind waiting here with you,” she said. Did Melinda hear a quaver in the girl’s voice? They were standing face to face, Melinda half a head taller, and Jackie’s eyes locked on hers.

Melinda’s senses were overwhelmed, she heard static, felt red as a beet, without thinking she shakily reached around her puppylove’s shoulder and back and hugged her, saying in a near whisper, “I’m really glad you’re Kendra’s friend.” The next milliseconds felt like eons, but then Jackie circled her arms around Melinda’s back, and returned the embrace! Her silky, raven black head moved into the crook between Melinda’s chin and shoulder.

“Me, too,” Jackie croaked, and Melinda thought she might die of delight. She squeezed Jackie, Jackie squeezed back. Melinda felt malleable as rubber in her dream girl’s arms. She became conscious of how hard her heart was beating, and she wondered if Jackie would notice.

Still with arms around one another, they parted so they were looking in each other’s eyes again, and Melinda thought she saw — what? — pleading in the girl’s face. Whatever it was she saw, it impelled her own face forward, till their lips just brushed. She heard Jackie’s breath catch. She moved her face forward again, and so did Jackie, and they kissed, not tentative, not face-vacuuming either, but a confident, loving kiss. The thrill of it, kissing this delicious object of her daydreams and fantasies, and a fourteen year old girl!, made Melinda shudder. Something Jackie felt made a sharp little “mmph” come out of her, and as if it were a command, or a stage direction, the whole thing seemed so unreal, Melinda’s tongue joined their lips, and then so did Jackie’s, and their mouths and tongues sensually brushed and caressed one another. Melinda squeezed Jackie tighter, and Jackie’s hands swept over Melinda’s back, and they made out, the thirty five year old single mom and the fourteen year old proto-goddess of her dreams.

“Um,” said Kendra sharply from the bottom of the stairs. A beat later, the doorbell rang. In between, Jackie yelped and removed herself from their embrace, and Melinda’s face got even redder and she smoothed the front of her clothes, which were not in need of smoothing, and she rasped, “have a good time!” because what in the world else was she supposed to say?

Jackie joined Kendra without a look back, and Kendra, dumbstruck, stared open mouthed at her mother, backpack and pillow sagging and near to being dropped, till her friend grabbed her arm and turned her around and marched her toward the back door, where Jackie’s father waited. Melinda was frozen in place; she heard the door open, heard Jackie’s dad say, “ready?” Then, “okay,” as if two teenagers had just ignored his question and stalked off to the car together. The door shut, and Melinda started breathing again.

She was so terribly conflicted, torn between rapture at kissing the girl of her dreams, when she never thought she ever would, and being mortified Kendra had caught them at it. She felt a pang for poor Jackie, who would have to explain herself to her friend. Melinda felt a stab of panic. What if she explained herself in the car where her father could hear? Or what if Kendra demanded to know why Jackie was making out with her mother… in the car where Jackie’s father could hear?

The fear of Jackie’s parents knowing what had happened tamped down any delight she felt in the encounter for most of the rest of the evening. When Kendra didn’t call for an early ride home, and Mr. or Mrs. Allen didn’t call demanding to know why she had molested their daughter, and the police didn’t show up, Melinda relaxed enough to frig herself to three orgasms before falling asleep. All were fueled by memories of her kiss, of her little love, her Jacqueline Marie Allen.

* * *

The next day, Saturday at noon, as previously arranged, Melinda drove to the Allens’ and picked up Kendra, and couldn’t decide if she was relieved or disappointed Kendra came to the car without Melinda having to go to the door. She wanted to see Jackie again, but part of her didn’t, in case she was embarrassed, or regretful.

The drive back home was silent. Kendra didn’t look like she was fuming, but she was obviously avoiding her mother’s eyes, and didn’t intend on saying a word, for which Melinda found herself grateful. They would have to confront what happened sometime, but later was just as good as sooner. Melinda dreaded the obvious, direct questions she might get from her daughter. Even though she’d had hours upon hours to work on it, she had no idea what she would say. They got home, went inside together, and Kendra lugged her backpack upstairs and disappeared, leaving her mother anxious.

The hours of the day passed slowly, each one bringing Melinda closer to when she would have to explain herself to her daughter. She would, wouldn’t she? Well, of course she would. In fact, she should go upstairs and talk to her of her own volition. But she didn’t.

Jackie and Kendra probably talked about what happened, right? Maybe Kendra was fine with it, had forgotten it already. Doubtful, and besides, the fact they probably talked about it made Melinda doubly embarrassed. What had Jackie said? That Melinda had forced herself on her? That it was a stupid mistake, never EVER to be repeated? That Melinda was a terrible kisser? Melinda imagined any number of hurtful things, things that would be stewing inside her daughter, who would think she was a freak and an inept lover at that.

It was past six before Melinda thought to order pizza, as was tradition in the Moore household on Saturday nights. Around seven she was eating and watching a Doris Day movie on cable when Kendra finally showed herself, drawn by the pizza.

They ate their slices together in silence, each watching the movie, or pretending to. Melinda was even more anxious as they avoided the subject together in the same room. But all but necessary conversation was banished for the evening, and after the movie Kendra returned to her room.

Melinda thought seriously now about going in and talking to her daughter. But she still didn’t know what to say, or what Kendra needed to hear. Around midnight she retired to her own room.

Not twenty minutes later, when Melinda was in a nightgown, under the covers and reading a book, Kendra knocked tentatively on the bedroom door. Melinda had just been losing her cares in the novel she was reading and was jolted back to reality. Panic time. “Come in,” she said as firmly as she could manage.

Instead of entering with guns blazing, as Melinda feared, her daughter seemed to creep in, head down, and she sat down in a hunch at the foot of the bed, clothed only in a men’s XXL t-shirt, her usual nightwear. Her shoulder length dirty blonde hair was tousled, and she looked like she’d just woken up. Melinda was puzzled, and asked with genuine concern, “Is everything ok, sweetheart?”

Kendra’s brow furrowed and she nodded, still avoiding her mother’s gaze. Then as if she’d finally summoned the courage, she turned to Melinda and asked, “Why were you kissing Jackie?”

Melinda had braced herself for some scathing remark or reproach — Kendra had that kind of alert, keen mind; she could be clever, and she could be savage. The vulnerable, simple question she got instead fazed her. “What?” she stumbled, cursing herself for playing dumb.

“You were kissing Jackie,” her daughter mumbled. “Why?”

Melinda got out from under he covers and sat next to her daughter, putting her arm around her. “Sweetie,” she started, and realized she still had no idea what to say. “please don’t be angry with me. Or Jackie. I don’t know,” she finally stammered. “The answer to your question is ‘I don’t know.'”

Kendra turned to her and stretched, feline-like, so her face was close to her mother’s. “Do you like Jackie?” Emphasis on the “like.”

Now, this was the kind of question Melinda had imagined her daughter asking. And she still didn’t know what she wanted to say. So she said, “Of course I do,” as though it was preposterous that she’d been lustily making out with her daughter’s 14-year-old friend.

Kendra reached up and stroked her mother’s chin. “Why?” she asked, cocking her head slightly. “Why do you like her?”

This was not going any one of the half dozen or so ways Melinda had imagined it going. “Honey,” she said, and she realized Kendra was stroking her face again, and that her other hand was on her hip.

Kendra’s face was now right up to hers, and she said, “hmm?” And her eyebrows were up, exaggerating that she was waiting for a good answer to her question.

Melinda stammered again. “I — look, sweetie, what happened was a mistake.” It was? No! Why was she taking that tack? Couldn’t she be honest on some level with her daughter without her thinking she was a… pervert, or something?

Kendra rubbed her nose against her mother’s, and her hand gripped her hip tighter. Wait a minute. What in the world…?

“I like Jackie too,” Kendra said, in a sultry, decidedly adult tone of voice. Her face was still right in front of Melinda’s, eyes boring into her. Belatedly, Melinda was realizing what might be happening. Was her daughter coming on to her? She jerked her face away from Kendra’s, but her daughter just scooched closer to her and brushed noses again. “I like kissing her, too.”

Melinda blinked and shuddered, trying to process what was going on. “You and Jackie… ?” she managed. Kendra locked a knowing look on her and nodded exaggeratedly. “Since when?”

Kendra smirked. “Since last night,” she said. “We talked about what you and she did, and it got us sooo hot.” Her hand absently stroked up and down her mother’s side.

Melinda clung to the idea that Kendra was acting out, trying to embarrass her. She determined to stay in control, be adult. “You’re fourteen years old,” she said, her voice cracking a little with the effort of scolding. “You shouldn’t be talking that way.” She heaved herself away, sliding toward the other end of the bed.

Kendra scooched closer again. “Jackie’s fourteen years old, too,” she said, this time a little caustically. “How come you can make out with fourteen year old girls and I can’t?” She narrowed her eyes at her mother, face once again just inches away.

“I told you, that was a mistake!” Melinda said shrilly. She tried to move away again but her daughter put her hands on her shoulders, holding her in place.

“I don’t think it was, Mother,” she said, in that sultry adult voice again. She put her head down and looked up at her mother with puppydog eyes. “I understand,” she said through pouty lips. “I understand why you like Jackie. Last night she and I, we kissed and kissed… and felt each other… mmm, it was so hot.” Her voice had become wistful.

Melinda couldn’t tell if she was exaggerating again, and couldn’t work through it, thinking about her daughter and her friend making out.

“I just feel so left out, Mom. Why don’t you like me, too?”

Melinda was guarded against being manipulated and humiliated, but the question had its intended effect of her, and she answered, “Oh, honey, no… ” Now she stroked her daughter’s cheek. “Baby, I do like you too. Of course I do.” She became aware that both she and her daughter were breathing heavily. This couldn’t be happening.

“I’m glad, Mom,” Kendra breathed, then in an instant, her lips were on her mother’s, and mother and daughter kissed, and hands began stroking and caressing in earnest.

“Oh, baby,” Melinda said into her daughter’s mouth. “Oh… mmmph… what are you DOING?” And she sank into her, and mother and daughter made out, tongues fencing more vigorously than when Melinda and Jackie had kissed; these two had all the time in the world, and weren’t wondering whether the other wanted the same thing she did.

Melinda’s caressing hands found themselves under her daughter’s t-shirt; Kendra’s hands found her mother’s breasts through her silky nightgown, and each shuddered and sighed. Breaking away temporarily, Kendra lifted her shirt off, and gave her mother a look that let her know to take her nightgown off, and she did. They were both naked but for panties, and kissed again, Melinda cupping her daughter’s face, then caressing her bare back, Kendra moaning her approval and running her fingers through her mother’s hair.

Melinda eased herself down on her back, collecting her daughter and bringing her down on top of her, and her fourteen year old body writhed on top of her as they continued to devour each other’s mouths. Their breasts mashed together, Melinda’s full and round, Kendra’s little apples, and their crotches ground together. Just like my favorite fantasy, Melinda thought dreamily. Only so much better…

Kendra popped up and looked at her mother, her eyes slits, then she caressed her mother’s boobs, mashing them together and tonguing and licking the nipples, then settling on one and sucking, trying to devour the whole tit, then rubbing her tongue on the underside of the nipple; her mother hissed and stiffened, and Kendra’s heart soared. She moved back up to kiss her mother’s lips, and her mother was kneading her ass, grinding her teenage pussy into her own.

Mother and daughter each had panties that were wet in the crotch, those soon came off. Both desperately wanted to experience orgasm together, but neither had ever done that with another girl or woman, and each seemed to sense the other’s frustration. Melinda rolled her daughter off so they were side by side, and languidly stroked Kendra’s pussy with her finger, and her daughter shuddered and moaned, eyes closed, mouth in an ‘o’. Kendra groped for her mother’s cunt and found it, and Melinda jumped, then purred and hungrily kissed her daughter again. They fingered each other, inexpertly, but the sheer eroticism of the situation, of mother-daughter incest, heightened each sensation. For Kendra, her own mother, this older, sensual woman, hot for her friend and now for her, manipulating her pussy; for Melinda, her daughter, her naked, beautiful, teenage daughter, who made out with her friend Jackie last night, just like she had…

Melinda made a decision that made her head swim. “Here, honey,” she breathed, and put her own hand over her daughter’s, and showed her where to touch. “Now go in circles,” she said, eyes closed, a sheen of sweat on her naked body. Kendra complied, watching in wonder as her mother escalated toward orgasm. “Faster honey,” she said. “Not too much harder. Just faster.” And her daughter was… perfect, she brought her mother right where she wanted to be, and Melinda’s eyes rolled back in her head and she arched her back. “Kiss me,” she croaked, and Kendra’s lips were on her neck and shoulder, because that was as far as she could reach, and her mother had the biggest, most explosive orgasm…

And before she even came down, she pushed Kendra away, and scrabbled up to her hands and knees, and her daughter watched her wide-eyed as she plunged into the decision she’d made, which was to bring her daughter off with her face and tongue… she had no idea, had never done anything like it before, but she was determined to return the gift Kendra had just given her. She parted her daughter’s legs, roughly, then her face was in her crotch.

Kendra gasped, and shouted, “Oh!” and Melinda used her tongue, lips and finger to lick and suck and rub and love her daughter’s pussy. Taking her cues from Kendra’s reactions, she made her daughter come, and she came so beautifully, whining and screaming for her mommy, as if she were experiencing it for the first time. Maybe she was.

Melinda sidled up her daughter’s body till they were lying side by side, and they kissed, exhausted. Kendra’s eyes shot open (and Melinda knew this because she couldn’t take her eyes off her), and she said, “Mommy, I taste my pussy on your face.”

Melinda growled and devoured her daughter’s tongue and lips, and they were lovers. They slept together, arms encircling naked bodies, and Melinda woke in the morning with her daughter’s face in her crotch, and they started all over again. And learned together.

Read the sequel to this story