By JetBoy
I can’t exactly remember how I got there, only that I’m somehow seated in a nearby chair, drinking in huge gulps of the cool, clear afternoon air. My eyes slowly flutter open, and there is my Cinnamon, standing before me with both hands clasped shyly before her. Mom’s arms are wrapped around my baby’s thin waist.
“I love you, Mommy!” squeals Cinnamon, the nude little imp climbing into my lap and squirming deliciously against me. “That was even more fun than I had with Susie!” She peers up at me, blushing. “Can we kiss some more? Pretty please?”
Our mouths seem to drift together, and I sigh in happy disbelief as my daughter feeds me her tongue. I respond, kissing the girl with a passion that warms my soul.
And then there is my mother, perched on the arm of the chair, the heat of her mouth brushing my neck. I turn to her, and she crushes her lips to mine, cupping my face between both hands and fucking me with a probing tongue. I lose myself in Mom’s embrace, letting her have me.
Then she breaks away, turning to stare lustfully at Cinnamon, and their mouths slowly come together. I marvel at the sight of my own mother and daughter, French kissing like the most ardent of lovers. I can already feel my desire reawakening, as if the earthshaking orgasm I’d just been nailed by had been scarcely more than a tremor.
Their lips gently part, and Mom glances at each of us in turn. “So,” she murmurs, a curious gleam in her eyes, “who’s Susie?”
My child blushes and giggles, and suddenly seems to be very interested in a patch of grass near her feet. I answer: “She’s Cinnamon’s best friend… though you could say that Susie is, well, her first lover.”
My daughter peers at me as she mulls over this bit of information… then a huge smile appears on her face. “Wow, yeah…” she whispers. “That’s so cool!”
Mom laughs, placing a hand on Cinnamon’s neck, lightly stroking her granddaughter’s soft skin. “Well, that’s very sweet…” Her hand slips down my child’s chest, fingers brushing her tiny nipples. “…and you’re truly a lucky little lady. By my count, you have three lovers now.”
“Ah, yes,” I reply, grinning hugely. “I think you’re right.”
Cinnamon glances from me to Mom and back again, puzzled for a heartbeat or two. Then she squeals in giddy delight, throwing both arms around my neck and hugging me, sobbing, “Yes, yes, yes, yes!” Before I can draw a breath she’s sliding from my lap and racing to her grandmother to embrace her every bit as tightly, burying her face in Mom’s generous breasts.
My mother nuzzles Cinnamon’s light blond hair, reaching down to squeeze her cute little bottom. Then, with a gentle pat, Mom straightens. “Come, ladies… let’s move this party indoors.”
I stand on somewhat unsteady legs, and we three march naked into my mother’s house, leaving our clothes and swimsuits scattered around the pool.
Mom leads the way, giving Cinnamon and I a good look at her shapely ass. My mother is a still-sexy forty-six, having had me after getting pregnant as a high school sophomore. She’s built like one of those nudes in a Renaissance painting — lively, luscious and full-figured.
Her buttocks are moving enticingly as she mounts the stairs, and my daughter and I exchange a mischievous glance when we catch each other staring. “Look at Grandma’s bottom!” she whispers excitedly.
I can’t help but agree. Few things thrill me more than a woman’s sexy ass, and I was already imagining burying my face between Mom’s cheeks and licking her butt crack. Soon, I promised myself.
I grin at my daughter. “We had a saying, back when I was a teenager,” I tell her, my eyes shifting back to Carol’s jiggling rump. “It went, ‘Do fries go with that shake’?”
Cinnamon grins back. “She’s bootylicious!”
As we reach the top of the staircase, Mom studies us with folded arms, a mock-scowl on her lips and a twinkle in her eyes. “If you youngsters are finished passing racy comments on my ass, we’ve got business to attend to.” She leads us into her bathroom, pointing to the shower. “You’re not getting that oil on my Versace sheets.”
I roll my eyes in amusement as we pile inside, Mom bringing up the rear.
Three people in a shower designed for one is a pretty tight squeeze, but it can be a marvelous experience if you’re into it. And we are definitely into it.
Mom pops open a bottle of orange body wash, and the air quickly fills with the scent of citrus as we slather one another with the stuff. And then the fun really gets started.
How delicious it is, the three of us carrying on like horny school kids in the shower; bodies slipping and sliding together in a tangle of sweet-smelling flesh, hands wandering freely. Cinnamon demands more kisses, so Mom and I take turns reaming her pretty little mouth with our tongues. But everyone gets their share of attention in a steamy lesbian make-out session that quickly sharpens our appetites for a further round of fun and games — to be resumed in Mom’s bed.
We emerge, our bodies glowing pinkly, and take turns toweling one another dry before Cinnamon squeals “Come on!” racing into my mother’s adjoining boudoir. She leaps onto Mom’s unmade bed and jumps up and down impatiently as we grownups follow. “Come on come on come on come on!”
“Little imp,” growls Mom, scooping a giggling Cinnamon into both arms and waltzing her around the room, rocking her to and fro a few times like an infant before throwing her back on the bed. My little girl shrieks with delighted laughter as she bounces, then falls silent, staring eagerly at Mom.
Absently letting her towel drop to the carpet, my mother climbs onto the bed, staring into Cinnamon’s eyes, desire written plainly on her face as she reaches out for my daughter’s hand. She tugs the little girl into her arms, enfolding her in a warm embrace. My child tilts her head back to gaze adoringly at her grandmother, then closes her eyes, waiting to be kissed.
I quietly seat myself at the end of the bed, heart thumping at the enchanting sight of my mother and ten-year-old child coming together as lovers. Mom bends down to claim Cinnamon’s mouth with her own, and they kiss gently, lingeringly. Then my daughter’s tongue emerges to play, and Mom sucks at the fluttering pink tip.
Things heat up rather quickly at that point. Suddenly my mother is groping Cinnamon’s bottom and tongue-fucking her childish mouth, while my little girl’s hands explore Mom’s breasts, plucking at the engorged nipples.
Then my daughter is peering back over her shoulder at me, her eyes positively dancing. “Come play with us, Mommy!”
“In a minute, honey,” I reply. “I want to watch you and your grandmother for a little while.”
“Okay,” Cinnamon coos, turning back to Carol and throwing both arms around her neck. They kiss again, and I thrill to the sight of the lustful heat that flows between woman and child, watching their tongues meet and mingle. Then Mom slowly falls back onto the bed, carrying Cinnamon with her.
I’m gently fingering my cunt while my child and my mother make love, rolling about on the bed; their hands eagerly exploring one another’s nude bodies as they kiss again and again.
Then Mom is on her back, and Cinnamon wriggles on top of her, announcing, “Stay still, Grandma, and don’t move… it’s my turn, I get to do stuff to you now!” Her jaw is firmly set, her voice insistent.
My mother laughs joyously, relaxing back into the sheets. “How can I say no?” she coos, stroking my child’s bare back. “I can’t resist you, my sweet little nymph.”
“You better not even try!” Cinnamon growls. She squirms down Mom’s body like a slippery pink fish, fastening her mouth to a generous breast.
“Jesus,” my mother moans, cradling Cinnamon to her.
My child sucks at the left nipple, then the right; fondling Mom’s breasts with both hands while she nurses. I can feel a deep pulse in my cunt that builds to a roar as I anticipate my darling Cinnamon loving me in the same forbidden way.
Then she is leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses down her grandmother’s body, pausing to dart her tongue into Carol’s belly button. Mom gasps in surprise, eyes popping open for an instant; then they drift shut as she murmurs, “Silly girl.”
Grinning, my daughter continues downward, nuzzling Mom’s tummy and lower until she is lying between her grandmother’s thighs, staring at her juicy cunt. Cinnamon moistens her lips, then presses her mouth into the generous tuft of Mom’s pubes.
This is no tentative, cautious licking. My little girl is going down on Carol with everything she has, eating pussy and loving it. Her blissful humming and the wet, slurping sounds Cinnamon makes become a lustful music that perfectly accompanies her grandmother’s moans and cries. Mom’s fingers are tangled in Cinnamon’s golden tresses, holding my daughter’s face to her sex as she whispers “Sweet child… oh God — oh God I love you…”
Then my mother’s eyes flutter open, meeting mine. “C-come here, Angela,” she pants, “right now. I want to… to taste your cunt.”
I quickly crawl toward Carol, moving on all fours until I’m kneeling beside her. Without a word I straddle her face, slowly lowering my sex to Mom’s open mouth. I’m dripping wet and ready for her, but still feel a surprising jolt of ecstasy when she hits me with that first kiss, then thrusts her tongue deep into my hole.
“Fuck, Mom!” I exclaim, parting my thighs even wider for this delicious penetration.
I am bowed forward while I ride her mouth, taking in the incredible sight of my ten-year-old Cinnamon performing cunnilingus on her grandmother. Her eyes are glazed with pleasure, her nose buried in the dark curls of Carol’s bush. It’s lesbianism, incest and pedophilia tangled up in one glorious knot of taboo sexuality, and I’ve never witnessed anything so beautiful.
Wanting to share in my baby’s happiness, I lie down on top of Mom, pressing my breasts into her belly as I bring my face to within a few inches of my daughter’s. “I love you, Cinnamon,” I breathe, on the verge of joyful tears as I gaze upon my dreamy-eyed child.
Cinnamon lifts her face from my mother’s vulva, her mouth and chin shiny with moisture, and we meet in a heated kiss that has my head reeling. My daughter and I swap tongues, sharing the sharp, sweet tang of Carol’s cunt between us. Breaking away, she gasps “I love you too, Mommy!” then burrows between her grandmother’s legs once more.
Mom’s mouth is doing incredible things to my pussy, her tongue circling the entrance, pausing occasionally to flick at my clitoris. It’s clear that she is well versed in the art of lesbian love, and I wonder how the secret of her passion for women could have eluded my notice for so very long.
Cinnamon’s lips are glued to Mom’s cunt, so I allow my fingers to join in the action, seeking out the fleshy nub of Carol’s clitoris. A shudder races through her body in response. I feel Mom’s finger pressing against my rosebud, seeking entrance. I’m already moist there, so she penetrates my anus easily, with one smooth stroke.
The very breath seems to rush from my lungs as my mother’s finger pushes inside — and it somehow becomes a strangled cry as a convulsive orgasm comes down, smashes into me like a crumbling wall.
I am shaking helplessly when I come, especially my arms and legs — but somehow I manage to keep rubbing Mom’s clit. And then she is climaxing along with me, her body bucking beneath mine as she moans into my vulva. Through blurred eyes I glimpse Cinnamon’s head moving along with my mother’s churning hips; my little girl hanging on tightly, still eating Grandma’s pussy.
I ride the pounding waves of ecstasy as far as they will take me, then drift back to shore dazed and concussed, sprawled atop my mother’s soft, womanly frame. She lies nearly motionless beneath me, her breath warm against my still-tingling sex and the length of her finger still buried in my rectum. Cinnamon is nuzzling my face, whispering fervent declarations of love. Then she crawls to the head of the bed to do the same for her grandmother, idly caressing my ass while she kisses Mom.
It takes my mother and I a moment to collect ourselves after ecstasy of such magnitude, and once we catch our breath, Carol and I turn our attention to my darling daughter. We trap Cinnamon between us, showering her with caresses. Needless to say, my ten-year-old proves to be a most willing prisoner.
Mom has yet to taste Cinnamon’s pussy, and very much wants to, so she lies between my baby’s thighs and begins to lavish affection on her bare slit. As for me, I hold the child in my arms, fondling as much of her as I can reach, kissing her little-girl mouth again and again. My fingers tease her nipples, then lightly pinch them.
Cinnamon is placid at first, purring like a newborn kitten as Mom and I make love to her. Soon, though, she is squirming in my grasp, mewling helplessly in the grip of her mounting pleasure. She moans into our kissing, her tongue tangling sweetly with mine. Then she breaks away, burying her face against my shoulder, panting furiously. Her fingernails bite into my skin where she clutches me.
I glance down the length of Cinnamon’s body for a glimpse of my mother as she licks and kisses her granddaughter’s vagina. I’m struck by how happy she looks, as if there was no place she’d rather be but in bed with me and my child. Suddenly I wonder if this is the first time Carol has made love to a little girl.
My thoughts are interrupted by my daughter’s wild cry, torn from her body as she seizes up in orgasm. She falls away from me, body arching from the bed, little fists snatching at the sheets while Mom suckles her clitoris.
On impulse, I begin to lick at her nipples, bathing the tiny pink buds with my tongue. Cinnamon throws her arms around my neck, clutching me tightly to her flat chest, panting “Oh, Mommy, f-feels so good Mommy oh oh yes OHHHH!” Her voice rises to a sharp squeal, then she goes steel-rigid for a few seconds before collapsing limply into my embrace.
I cradle my naked little girl to me, calming her, brushing the bangs from her damp face. Mom crawls up from the foot of the bed to lie on the other side of Cinnamon, and we hug my precious ten-year-old between us. Carol’s mouth is sticky with my daughter’s essence, and I lean over Cinnamon to lick at my mother’s lips, eager for a taste. Placing a hand upon the back of my head, Mom crushes her mouth to mine in a hot, hungry kiss.
Finally we part, the two of us out of breath and staring into one another’s flushed faces. I see something in Mom’s eyes that tells me that we’ve shared something more than just lesbian sex, and the golden warmth I feel in the pit of my belly seems to be in agreement. Am I falling in love with her? I wonder.
I look down at my daughter, still nestled cozily between Mom and me… only to find her wearing a sulky expression, thrusting out her lower lip. “Don’t I get any kisses?” she pouts.
My mother and I exchange a glance and a quick grin; then we pounce at the same instant on my suddenly giggling little girl, the two of us kissing her face over and over again until Cinnamon howls with laughter, finally begging us to stop.
We three lie snuggled together, blissfully content. The bedroom window is open, and sounds of the dimming afternoon drift through. There are still a few birds chirping, and the faint voices of playing children can be heard down the street. A lawnmower sputters into action, dies with a cough, then starts again.
My hand is resting on Cinnamon’s bottom, and I lazily cup a small, soft cheek. She gently nuzzles my breast, and I feel a surge of adoration for my child that warms me from head to toe. I’m in love with her, too, I tell myself. What a situation.
My reverie is interrupted when my daughter suddenly lifts her head up to announce, “I’m hungry.”
Kids. I roll my eyes in amusement — then pause as I realize how long it’s been since lunch. And we’ve just had quite the workout, after all. Hmmm… yes, it’s definitely time for what Winnie-the-Pooh calls “a little something.”
I raise my head to look questioningly at Mom. She glances from Cinnamon to me, then back again. With an affectionate laugh, she rises to her feet, stretches languidly, then smiles. “Come with me, ladies.”
Still naked, we three troop downstairs to the kitchen where, amidst much jollity, we manage to fill a large serving tray with sliced fruit, cubes of several different cheeses, and rounds of bread cut from a long fluted loaf. Mom selects a good Cabernet, Cinnamon unearths a bottle of grape juice from the cluttered refrigerator, and I grab three glasses before we march back up to the bedroom in the merriest of moods.
Mom takes a quilt from the closet and spreads it over the bed, and we hungrily tuck into our improvised feast. Soon we begin to feed one another with our fingers, which quickly becomes a sensual game as we alternate nibbles of cheese and fruit with kisses. Mom dabs my nipple with a wine-moistened finger, then bends to lick it… and Cinnamon and I pass a chunk of apple back and forth with our tongues.
Finally, our bellies satisfied, we sprawl out on the bed and discuss what we’ve done this afternoon; how it might affect our lives as a family. I admit to feeling a bit apprehensive about entering into a sexual relationship with my mother and child, while Cinnamon wonders if I could really “be my mommy and my girlfriend at the same time.”
None of us are sure what the future will hold, but there is one point upon which all of us agree: come what may, we want to remain lovers. What we’d just shared in the heat of sexual intimacy was much too good, too precious to give up.
That established, we relax and begin to regale one another with tales of our lesbian experiences.
Mom goes first, describing how she had been seduced by one of her best friends at the tender age of sixteen. From then on, she preferred women as her sexual partners, but dabbled with men occasionally. My father, who she’d met in college, had actually known of her bisexuality from the start, and had allowed her to take female lovers, as long as she was discreet about it — which, as it transpired, included keeping her lesbian affairs a secret from me while I was growing up.
Dad had been killed in a ski-lift accident when I was nineteen, and it had been rough on Mom and myself, as we’d both adored him. “He was the only guy I ever loved that way,” she sighs, pausing for a sip of wine. After that all her relationships were with women, and out of respect for Dad’s memory she continued to keep her lesbian life private.
As it turns out, all the women in Mom’s tennis club are either gay or bi, even the married ones. Their little group is just a very clandestine way for my mother and her friends to indulge their sapphic cravings in our conservative community. That, by the way, was how Mom had learned of my own taste for females: a couple of years earlier, I’d had a brief fling with a young temp I met at the office, this fiery little punk girl who rocked my universe for two tempestuous weeks. That girl just happened to be the daughter of one of Mom’s tennis club fuck-buddies. Small world.
Then it’s my turn to speak. I tell Mom and Cinnamon of how I’d explored lesbian sex with more than a few girls during my years as a business major; even revealing a few of the kinkier things I’d done, like the day I went without panties and flashed my Women’s Studies professor during class. She got so flustered that she dropped a stack of graded essays that she was handing back to the other girls. But she paid me back with interest for my impertinence later, handcuffing me to the radiator in her office and giving me the fucking of my life with an eight-inch vibrator.
Finally, Mom and I listen raptly while my little girl describes what it was like to learn kissing with her friend Susie; how they had undressed, then bashfully touched one another’s nude bodies. Now her mind is buzzing with ideas about what she can teach her friend the next time they get together.
All this talk of matters sexual has revived our slumbering desires, and so we three come together once more to make love. This time we take things slowly, the reckless excitement of our first encounter replaced by a languid warmth that moves me to the verge of joyful tears. I can tell that my mother and daughter are just as overwhelmed as I from this big, beautiful thing we have found. We all somehow climax together, sharing a mutual orgasm that felt like a benediction from on high.
Mom insists that Cinnamon and I stay the night — as if we’d had any intention of leaving! — so, happy but weary, we slip beneath the love-warmed sheets, exchanging hugs and some extremely passionate kisses before turning out the lights.
I fall asleep quickly, snuggled closely to my new lovers.
*****
Five years have passed since that amazing afternoon… and incredibly enough, the three of us are still sexually intimate. We are free to make love with whoever we please, of course; but my mother, my daughter and I always seem to gravitate back to one another.
Mom has introduced me to the ladies of her tennis club, and I’ve become an enthusiastic participant in their fun and games. In fact, my mother has shared me with her friends more than a few times. Just last month, we had a little party where I served the club members while dressed in nothing but a bow tie and a thong, and Mom offered me up to the ladies as their submissive sex toy for the entire evening. All five women, my mother included, had their wicked way with me; and I came more times than I could count.
Yes, Mom has unearthed and nurtured that side of me that loves to be dominated. Now she is my mistress just as much as a parent. Several months after our first time together, Cinnamon and I moved out of the poky apartment where we lived and into Mom’s house, where I can truly belong to the strong, beautiful woman who gave birth to me.
Actually, I have another mistress as well: my daughter Cinnamon, who is now an exquisite teenager of fifteen. She has developed a serious taste for dominant sex herself — I guess the gene skipped a generation — and she and I often get up to some very twisted antics together.
Last night, after she finished her homework, Cinnamon called me up to her room and ordered me to strip, then climb onto her bed and lie face down. She tied my wrists and ankles to the oaken bedposts, then teased me with her fingers, lips and tongue until I wanted to scream. I couldn’t, though — my daughter had not given permission to talk. Finally, Cinnamon took pity on me and put on this lovely strap-on cock I’d purchased for her at our town’s only adult sex store, paused to dab a bit of Vaseline on my anus and fucked my ass until I fainted from sheer, unbridled ecstasy.
When I came to, she unfastened my bonds and held me tenderly in her arms, where we whispered vows of devotion and shared the sweetest of kisses. You see, although I’m often used as a personal plaything by Cinnamon, she truly adores me… and the rough, demanding pleasure she gives her mommy is the most wonderful way I know of for my child to show her love.
Most people would be horrified by the secret life I lead with my mother and daughter. They hear the word incest and refuse to let themselves see the wondrous possibilities of a life like mine. The loss is theirs. Honestly, I consider myself blessed.
*****
This story was adapted and vastly expanded from a very short but extremely hot vignette by one-time Leslita author Luvcameltoes, entitled Intergenerational Story. My fervent thanks to that writer for the inspiration.
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