As a teenager, I definitely wasn’t what anyone would have called a sensual or maybe even an attractive person.
Oh, my face was pretty enough (or so I was told), and I had a good figure, but I was terribly shy and withdrawn. I never spoke to boys unless I needed to, and I had only one or two close female friends.
My sex life was non-existent, and that included masturbation. I never even considered touching myself like that.
But it all changed for me at age 19, after I gave birth to my daughter, Andrea. Amazingly enough, when I felt that baby girl’s lips and tongue tugging at my nipples, it was then that I began to experience true sexual arousal.
I’d become pregnant early in my senior year of high school. My parents would not even discuss letting me have an abortion, and I certainly would not agree to marry the boy who got me that way — on my first and last date — and so I had the child out of wedlock.
But I have never minded being a single mother, and I have never had any reason to regret giving birth to my darling little girl. When I felt her sucking on my breasts and I saw the look of happiness and contentment on her sweet face, it gave me a thrill beyond imagining.
And, as the months went by, my pleasure in breast-feeding her grew from satisfaction into near-delirium.
The first time I masturbated was when Andrea was about four months old. I’d been feeling more and more sexual excitement every day when I nursed her…
…and on that evening, as I lay naked in my bed with my baby sucking on my nipples, for some reason I just had to put my free hand between my legs and stroke myself. I came within minutes — my very first orgasm — and after that I began masturbating nearly every time I fed her.
Is it any surprise, then, that I continued to breast-feed my daughter until she was five years old? I loved it, and she seemed to love it, and I could not bring myself to stop.
Eventually, of course, she started going to school, and I reluctantly had to quit giving her my nipple several times a day. But even then, for the next four years I would occasionally — and secretly — allow her to have what she wanted, and what I craved.
It usually happened late at night. Once or twice a week, after I’d put her to bed, I would discover Andrea slipping through my bedroom door and crawling under the covers and snuggling into my arms.
It would never take long then for her little fingers to open my nightie and find my hard nipples, and, as I felt her lips and tongue tasting me, teasing me, arousing me, and as I stroked her fragrant hair and kissed the top of her head and softly breathed her name, I would feel that familiar warmth and wetness stirring between my legs… and so I would slide my hand downward to caress myself and soon would experience another achingly wonderful orgasm as my child suckled at my breast.
If she had any idea of what was actually taking place, she never said, and she never asked about it. She just gave me what I needed, and I loved her for it.
The number of times that this occurred gradually began to taper off as my daughter grew older, until it was only once every few weeks, then every few months, and at last, around the time that Andrea turned nine years old and was in third grade, her visits ended altogether.
I knew it had to happen sometime. But still, it left me feeling terribly sad and lonely.
For the next couple of years, I consoled myself by masturbating even more often than before, and I looked online to find sexy lesbian pictures and videos of girls sucking on women’s breasts, and I imagined that it was me in those images, together with my daughter, and that as she licked and sucked and nibbled on my erect nipples, I fucked myself with my fingers until I climaxed.
It felt very nice, but of course it wasn’t the same thing. Not even close.
But what was I to expect? Did I really believe that an adolescent girl, approaching puberty, would want to suckle her mother’s breasts like a little baby? No, I certainly knew better than that, but it didn’t ease the pain of longing for her.
Then something happened.
My daughter was now 11 years old and, like I had been, she was very pretty but also quite shy. She had few close friends and rarely was invited to parties or outings. So, it was a big deal for her when she was asked, for the first time, to join some other girls for a sleepover on a Saturday night.
Andrea could hardly contain her excitement. And thus it felt doubly cruel when the phone rang that night at about 10:30 and I heard her voice crying on the other end, begging me to come pick her up and bring her home.
In the car on the way back, she was sobbing so hard that I couldn’t get any real explanation of what had happened. The mother of the girl who’d invited my daughter also said she had no idea what had made her so upset.
As we got home and I walked her up the stairs, we went straight into my bedroom without even thinking about it. I took off her coat — she was wearing only a long cotton nightie underneath it — and her sneakers, and led her to the bed.
Reclining on the pillows, I held my daughter to my chest, rubbing her back, kissing her, and soothing her. When I finally was able to hear what she was saying, it was something about one of the girls teasing her and being mean to her, and none of the others sticking up for her, not even the ones she thought were her friends.
“Mommy, I don’t want to go out like that any more,” she wailed, her tears soaking into my shirt. “I only want to stay with you, always!”
“There, there, darling, it’s all right. You can stay with me as long as you like, even forever. Okay?”
“Okay,” she snuffled.
I grabbed a kleenex from beside the bed and wiped her nose. Then I said, “Look, you got my t-shirt all wet, you funny little girl.”
She giggled at that, and I took the opportunity to sit up and pull off my shirt. I wasn’t wearing a bra. She stared at my breasts.
On impulse, I said, “Come on, baby, let’s get in bed and cuddle, okay?” She smiled and nodded.
I helped her to her feet and then turned back the covers. I’d already taken off my shoes and had only to unzip my jeans and wriggle out of them, tugging my panties off at the same time. Andrea pulled her nightie off over her head, dropped her little panties on the floor, and jumped into my bed. I climbed in after her and we nestled together.
My daughter’s skin was soft and smooth. But her body had changed during the past few years. She was taller now, only a few inches shorter than me, and her baby fat was gone. Although she did have just the bare beginnings of breasts, her hips were still narrow and consequently she was kind of gangly, not the cuddly little girl who used to fit so easily into my arms.
It took a minute or two for us to shift around and find a position that felt comfortable. She was on her side, with one of her long coltish legs laying over the top of my thighs. I was on my back, an arm around her shoulders. Her head was resting on my chest, and one of her arms hugged my waist.
We lay that way for a while, breathing easily, warm and secure and content. Finally I kissed the top of her head, and whispered, “Feeling better now?”
“Yeah…” she murmured, so softly that I thought she might be almost asleep.
But then, almost imperceptibly, my daughter’s hand began creeping up from my waist, in the direction of my breasts. When she reached the underside of one breast, she stopped for a moment, then slid her hand across my chest toward the other side, and pressed her wrist gently upward against the other breast.
I hadn’t expected to suddenly start feeling so aroused. Or perhaps I really had expected this — and wanted it — subconsciously. But in any case, my heart was beating harder and my breath was coming faster as I felt her hand slowly move up between my breasts, and I felt her fingers parting, reaching across the top of one breast, and then her little finger just grazing my nipple, which was already stiff, and with that touch I gasped, “Oh, Andrea!!”
In reply, my daughter let her hand slip down a little until it covered my breast. She fondled it, gently squeezing, letting my erect nipple play between her fingers. Her touch felt like heaven.
“Oh my baby,” I whispered, taking her head in my hands and lowering her face to my breast. As I felt her lips closing over my nipple, her warm mouth on me once again, her tongue teasing me, I knew I would never ever want to give this up again!!
“Oh YES baby, suck on Mommy’s nipple!! That’s my good girl!”
She suckled on one side for a few minutes, all the while caressing my other breast with her hand, and then moved to the other one. She went back and forth, first one and then the other, for a long time, and I became intensely aroused.
I wanted to touch myself — I badly needed to come — but Andrea was laying almost on top of me, and she was bigger now than before, and it would be much harder for me to reach down to my pussy without letting her know what I was doing. And since she was very likely old enough by now to have at least some idea of what masturbation was, I wasn’t sure what I should do… and so I just held her close, rubbing the soft warm skin of her back, stroking her hair, cooing to her, as she nursed at my nipples.
Finally, Andrea seemed satisfied with suckling, and, with a deep sigh, lifted her face from my breast. Although it was mostly dark in the room, I’d left a small lamp on, and there was plenty of light for her to see my body and for me to see what she was doing.
She was quiet for a moment, before looking up into my eyes and smiling. I returned her smile, forming my lips into a kiss. Then she looked back down at the erect nipple she had just released from her mouth. It was long and wet, glistening in the lamplight. She extended her tongue, licking just the tip of it.
I shivered with pleasure.
My daughter licked my nipple again the same way. I shuddered once more, and she giggled. She glanced up at me, a mischievous look on her face, and began teasing me, flicking the tip of her tongue over my hard nipple, enjoying the response she got.
Involuntarily I arched my back, raising my breasts toward her.
She shifted to the other nipple, but this time licked it more slowly, all around the sides and the top, wetting it thoroughly, and then pinched it between her fingers before flicking her tongue over it again and again.
I was panting hard. My hands were twisting the bed sheets in a tight grip. I could feel how wet my pussy was, and I briefly wondered if she could smell my arousal.
Just when I thought I wouldn’t be able to stand it any longer without touching myself, Andrea slid gently off of me. She reclined, propped up on one elbow next to me, took a deep breath and then let it all out in a long sigh. “Okay, so, should I go back to my bed now?”
“No! No, it’s — I mean, you can if you want to, but it’s so nice having you here.” I turned onto my side to look at her. “We can… um, just sleep together tonight if you want. Would you like that?”
She looked at me and nodded slowly, smiling. “Yeah.” Then she laid her head on the pillow.
“Okay,” I whispered. I watched her for a few moments longer as she closed her eyes and breathed softly. She was so pretty. A perfect little face. I loved her intensely.
I turned over the other way so I could switch off the lamp, and then lay next to her on my back in the dark, feeling warm and happy.
It was very late, but I certainly wasn’t ready to go to sleep. My nipples still throbbed with the delicious sensation of having been sucked and teased. My pussy was dripping and needed to be touched.
After perhaps fifteen long minutes of waiting, I decided that my daughter must surely be fast asleep… and so I allowed myself to slowly spread my legs apart and quietly slide my hand down to caress my swollen lips, to ease into the damp crevice, to find the opening to my vagina, to press a finger inside where it was hot and wet.
I closed my eyes and concentrated on the sensual feelings. I pinched my nipples with one hand, while with the other I fucked myself with my middle finger and teased my clit with my thumb.
I knew it would take me almost no time to come — but I had to be careful. I didn’t want to wake Andrea. I couldn’t let her find out what I was doing.
It was not easy to do, but as my orgasm approached I kept telling myself to stay quiet, to keep it inside as much as possible. I was breathing hard, though — I couldn’t help that — and I couldn’t keep my legs from twitching sometimes as I masturbated. As the sexy sensations grew, and I felt my climax drawing near, it was almost impossible to focus on being silent and still.
But I believed that I was succeeding. I expected to give myself a much-needed orgasm, and after that, turn on my side and fall asleep.
Then, just as I began to come, I felt my daughter’s hand on my breast. She covered the breast with her warm hand, took the erect nipple between her fingers and thumb, and squeezed it. That made me come faster and harder!
It was impossible now for me to stay quiet, especially after the long build-up and all the effort I’d made at restraining myself — when I let go, I climaxed vigorously, thrusting two fingers deep inside my wet cunt and crying out in pleasure as my juices flowed.
Andrea put her mouth over my nipple and sucked. That made me come a second time, an even more powerful climax that began just as the first one began to recede.
“Oh! God! Fuck!! Yes!!!”
I don’t know how many times I came. Maybe it was just one long extended orgasm. It seemed as if it lasted forever, and it was heavenly.
To have my beautiful sweet daughter suckling me as I rubbed my clit and pressed my fingers inside my pussy was all I’d ever wanted. It meant everything to me. Knowing that her lips and tongue were stimulating my erect nipple while I masturbated was what kept me coming over and over again.
At last, it ended. I lifted my fingers away from my cunt and took my little girl’s head in my hands, gently pulling her from my breast. “Oh, baby, my baby,” I whispered, as I clutched her to me.
She shifted slightly, moving closer, laying her leg over mine. Her head was beneath my chin, one arm around my neck, the other across my chest, her hand resting on my other breast. We breathed slowly together, nestling warmly.
“Baby, I, I don’t know what to say… I… I mean, I… I didn’t mean to —”
“I wanted you to do that,” whispered Andrea.
“What — what do you mean?”
“I wanted you to, um, you know, do that. What you used to do when I was little.”
“You mean… masturbate?”
“I guess… is that what that is?”
That made me chuckle. She was still such an innocent child. “Yes, darling, that’s what that is. Mommy was masturbating. I’m glad you… I mean, I’m glad it didn’t upset you.”
Andrea snuggled closer to me. “Uh-uh. I like it. It’s how we always used to be, so close and nice and warm. I want you always to do that.”
I wrapped my arms all the way around her and hugged her tightly. “I’m so happy to hear you say that.” Then, lifting her chin, I gave my daughter a quick kiss on the lips. “Right now, though, it’s really really late. Let’s get to sleep, okay, sweetie?”
“Okay, Mommy.” But she hesitated, then asked in a tiny voice, “Can I stay here with you?”
“Of course you can, little girl. You can sleep in my bed any time you like.”
“Okay.” Andrea kissed me quickly once on the lips, then turned over to her other side, facing away from me, but making sure to tuck her little bottom warmly against my hip.
I smiled to myself, looking at her in the dark. Cupping my breast in my hand, I could feel the nipple still throbbing from my child’s eager suckling of it. I sighed deeply with great satisfaction, then turned toward her, laying on my side, and held her in my arms. We spooned that way all night, a loving naked mother and daughter, and slept soundly.
When morning came, our positions were reversed. Andrea was behind me, one arm hugging my waist. As I gradually awakened, I had to convince myself that what had happened was not a beautiful dream, but something that had actually taken place.
I’d taken my daughter into my bed, both of us nude, had encouraged her to suckle, and then I’d masturbated, climaxing several times, and then we’d talked about it.
It was real. Not just a dream. Clearly, a new chapter had opened for us.