Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

by PanWhoWrites

Note from JetBoy: The plot of this one is a bit unusual… so you might want to either read or recap Part One before taking on the second and final part. A most clever twist on lesbian incest fiction!

***

Rebecca

I should start by pointing out that I’m not a lesbian. Maybe Brianna is, but not me. I just… I was just trying to be a good teacher, trying to teach my older sister how to kiss. I swear.

It wasn’t my fault that it turned into a few hours of making out, okay? And afterwards, when I heard Bri getting off, I joined in because… well, it would be rude not to. Right? I didn’t want to give her, like, bad self-esteem or whatever. But I swear, I’m not a lesbian.

The next day was awkward. We awoke, dressed, and went to school without saying anything. The tension was so obvious at breakfast that even Mom picked up on it.

“What happened?” she kept asking, looking between the two of us. “What happened? Tell your mother… you can trust your mother. Tell mother what happened. Tell Mom what happened.”

I knew that I could trust Mom, and that I could talk to her about anything, even sexual stuff… especially sexual stuff. But I didn’t even understand what had happened yet. I wanted to run through it in my own head before I even thought about talking about it with my mother.

Mom dropped us off, we went our separate ways, and we didn’t see each other again until that afternoon, when we both got home. We headed to our room, and stripped out of our school uniforms.

Now, normally Bri and I would unclothe separately, in different rooms. Normally we’d do it at different times, or at least one of us would go and change in the bathroom, but on that day, the day after we… the day after I taught Bri how to kiss, we undressed at the same time, in the same room, without ever breaking eye contact.

It was while we were stripping that I started to admit a few things, even if only to myself.

While Bri was peeling off her stockings, I finally confessed, in my own brain, that yes, I’d brought myself off twice last night, just thinking about her body, thinking about how her lips had felt, and about how much I’d enjoyed her roaming hands, touching my legs and my waist and my ass and my boobs.

While Bri was unbuttoning her blouse, I admitted to myself that I’d drifted off at least three times today in class, imagining us doing the same thing (and more) without our nighties on. When Bri’s sexy little black bra came into view, I realized that while I’d been playing with myself, I’d also been wondering if that was how her pussy felt, too, if she’d enjoy it as much as I did if I ran my fingers over her clit…

I’m not a lesbian. Really, I’m not. I’d spent the whole day at school looking at girls, imagining kissing them, and none of them did anything for me. I don’t like girls, I like guys. I like guys… and my twin sister. I can’t explain it, but it’s true.

And it’s something that I couldn’t even admit to myself, that I had a huge crush on my twin sister, that she turned me on, and that I wanted to do what we’d done last night again and again and again. It was something that I couldn’t admit, not until I was standing there in our bedroom, watching my twin sister Brianna step out of her skirt, watching her standing in front of me, wearing nothing but a bra and panties…

And all the time I was watching her, and finally admitting some hard truths to myself, she was watching me undress. She was openly watching me undress, clearly liking what she saw.

We didn’t say a word, we just moved towards each other slowly, and started to kiss again.

It was just as good as I’d remembered it being: better, as there was more of her skin touching mine. I felt electricity on my lips as she kissed them, my legs felt alive everywhere her fingers moved over them. When she moved her mouth down to my neck and started to kiss and bite me, my eyes rolled back in pleasure, and my brain turned off.

I didn’t think again until a few hours later. We were lying, naked in my bed, legs and arms intertwined, both of us soaked in sweat and juices and saliva. I’d brought Bri off three, four, maybe five times, and she’d done the same to me. It was the most intensely sexual feeling I’d ever had, nibbling on my sister’s pussy and looking up to see her face contorted in pleasure. She’d suckled on my breasts as her fingers pumped in and out of me, and I’d left more than a few hickeys on her neck and inner thigh.

Other than “Oh god”s, moaning and the occasional high-pitched squeal, we still hadn’t spoken, and I knew this was the time.

“Bri–” I started, but she cut me off.

“Want to go again?”

I just nodded.

After that, we were inseparable. Bri seemed to be as constantly horny as I was, and every chance we got, we would sneak off somewhere and get each other off — we got adept at using our mouths, our hands… if we needed to, we could get each other off in less than five minutes, standing up, without removing any clothes. Every chance we got to be alone, we were at least making out (if not much, much more) and even when there were other people around, we were always holding hands or touching in some way.

I’ve always loved Bri — she’s my sister! But despite what they taught us in school, I didn’t find myself falling in love with her or anything like that. I loved her as a sister, even when I was touching her in an utterly non-sisterly way. I wasn’t in love with her, I just thought she was pretty fucking sexy; a sentiment I’m sure she reciprocated.

One time, we both had a free period at the same time, so we crept into the girl’s bathroom, and spent the entire 40 minutes in a cubicle, playing a game we called ‘Nips’ — seeing how much we could turn each other on, just using our nipples. First girl to touch herself (or the other) loses.

I lost.

Another time, we were at Youth Group, and I noticed Bri give me a strong look, immediately after she asked if she could be excused. We snuck into the empty church next to our meeting and did it in the pulpit. It was so naughty… and the fact that anyone could have come looking for us at any point and caught us fucking in the house of God really added something for some reason.

The closest we ever got to getting caught was when Mom came into our room, late at night, without knocking. Bri was under the covers, going down on me at the time — I guess I must have been moaning pretty loudly. When Mom came in, she just thought Bri was in the loo, and she stood there chatting to me for quite a while. Bri must have been feeling cheeky, because she didn’t stop. Little minx; I had to keep making conversation with Mom even while I came. If Mom suspected anything, she didn’t let on. She just asked if I was feeling okay, right before she left, and reminded me that I could tell her anything, that I shouldn’t have any secrets from her.

The most public we ever did anything was at the movies. Mom, Dad, me and Bri all went, and Bri was sitting at the very end, with me next to her and Dad next to me. It was a James Bond flick, and while Dad was engrossed, neither me or Bri found it very interesting at all. Without anyone noticing, I managed to get my hand up her dress, and brought her off during the film. She came during a particularly loud action sequence; anyone who heard anything would have thought the sounds she made were coming from the film.

All the time we were doing this, sneaking around, sleeping in each other’s beds, getting each other off any chance we got — while everything was happening, I just couldn’t get over how sexy we were. I mean, Brianna is insanely sexy, and I know that I’m considered a bit of a looker, but I mean… the whole thing. The fact that we were twins, and the underwear we wore…

Oh yeah, the underwear. I don’t remember how it came up, but I was talking to Mom and we were discussing underwear. Mom’s cool about stuff like that; I know I can talk to her about anything. Especially sex. I trust my mother.

Anyway, by the end of the conversation, she’d said we could borrow her credit card and go lingerie shopping — she didn’t even act like she was doing us a huge favor, she was really pushing for it! I would have invited her to come along, but I sort of wanted to just go with Bri, y’know?

The trip started with us looking at fairly conservative stuff, but then our competitive sides took over. I would suggest something for Bri that was a little bit saucier than she’d normally wear, she’d come back with something twice as naughty. It wasn’t until we were both trying on thongs and peephole bras, comparing areola sizes and mock-spanking each other’s asses that we realized we’d attracted an audience.

For some reason, this really fueled our fires. (mine definitely, at least, and by this point I’d gotten pretty good at reading when Bri was turned on.) We pretended not to notice the small crowd of guys (and a few girls) looking through nearby knickers, trying to give off the appearance of innocent shoppers, and started role-playing a tiny bit. I pretended to be dominant, tried out some leather stuff… Bri assumed the role of my obedient servant girl, and tried the French maid outfit we’d laughed at when we first entered the store. Then we found some cuffs and whips…

Ten minutes later, the crowd had grown so large that we were worried about someone we knew coming by; we bought far too much stuff, and went home. We weren’t in the house five seconds when Bri jumped me — performing for the crowd had gotten her just as worked up as I was.

It’s a good thing that Dad wasn’t home, and that Mom didn’t come out of the study; Brianna and me would have had a tough time explaining why we were naked in the living room, let alone why I was spanking her…

Anyway, like I was saying, I got sort of obsessed by how sexy we were, as a couple. That day in the store did nothing but amplify my obsession. Two hot young twins who had sex with each other — people would pay by the bucketload to see something like that. Not that I wanted to put anything online or anything like that, but I wanted to see what it looked like. Every time me and Bri were having “alone time”, I couldn’t stop trying to imagine what it looked like. I couldn’t get the image out of my head. I knew we were hot, but… how hot?

I dunno how obvious it is, but talking isn’t exactly our strong spot as a family. Mom and Dad once went six months without speaking to each other, and it’s something that Bri and I must’ve inherited. Talking to Mom is great. I love talking to my mother; I can tell Mom anything. I should tell Mom everything. But… well, even after we hit our two-month sexiversary, Bri and I still never sat down and had a talk about what we were doing or anything like that. We just did it.

Fortunately, we’ve always been on the same wavelength: it’s a twin thing, y’know? And I think this shared secret has brought us even closer in terms of how we think — it’s like we share a brain lately. If I ever want to change up our sex stuff, I don’t even have to say anything — I just do it, if Bri doesn’t beat me to it. It’s crazy.

So I decided not to ask Bri about taking photos. I figured if she didn’t want to, she’d probably make that pretty clear pretty quickly. I went and got Dad’s camera out of the basement (by this point, Dad had moved on from his photography craze), and next time me and Bri were alone in our room, I pulled it out from the bedside drawer where I’d stashed it.

I assume every girl has their own little sexy faces — faces that tell you that they’re turned on, and which help turn you on even more. Bri has at least a dozen, and when she saw the camera I was watching carefully to see her reaction. She bit her lip nervously and moaned… before I’d even taken the lens cap off! It was so cute, and so fucking hot. I’d learned to read Bri’s faces pretty well, and this was an easy one — she was excited, in both senses of the word.

When we’re feeling playful, I’m always the dominant one. I dunno why; maybe Bri is just naturally submissive, or maybe it’s because when this all began, I was the teacher and she was the student. We love playing servant and mistress, or mummy and naughty daughter. (We’d been playing that one more and more lately.) With the camera in my hand, and Bri kneeling in front of me, looking so cute and obedient, I decided to really get into it, and started telling her what to do.

“Stay still, I need to get focus. Oh great, it’s got an auto… okay. Stay there. Smile up at the camera. Bite your lip a little. No, actually, lick your lips. Yeah, that’s great. Mmm. Okay, now unbutton your blouse a bit. Don’t look down, keep eye contact with the camera! Come on Bri, show a bit of cleavage. Yeah, I know you don’t have much… don’t look at me like that! Do the best with what you’ve got. Okay, great. Now unbutton a few more… oh wow, I didn’t know you were wearing that bra today. How did you get away with that in dance? No, wait. Don’t talk. Shut up… bitch.”

I’m not great at playing dominant, but Bri really gets into it. Sometimes I set her random tasks throughout the day — stuff like “you can’t use your thumbs,” or “whenever mum is in the room, you have to touch yourself without her noticing.” If she doesn’t do it right, she gets a spanking. I’ll completely forget about it sometimes, but she’ll always come back to me at the end of the day and tell me exactly how many times she broke the rules, and how many smacks she deserves to get as punishment. Like I said, she really gets into it.

“Okay, now show me a nipple. Just one. Make it look like an accident. Oh man, these are turning out great! Okay, now put one finger in your mouth, and show the camera how naughty you are. You’re a naughty girl, aren’t you? You’re a naughty girl, and you need a spanking from your mom. You want Mom to spank you. You want to be spanked by your mother.”

That night, we only took a few dozen photos before we both got too horny to continue. Taking a few snaps before setting the camera aside and enjoying each other’s young bodies became part of our nightly routine; over the next week or so, we went from slightly naughty photos of Bri in all her various naughty undies, to full nudes, to her spreading her legs for the camera to short videos (the camera could take videos of up to about two minutes) of her masturbating, coming while staring at the camera and screaming my name. She took some shots of me, too — my favorite was one she took from behind, of me on all-fours, showing off my ass and cunt and swinging tits, looking back at her and smiling.

I loaded a whole heap of Bri’s photos onto my phone. I liked looking at them when she wasn’t around. That’s probably the closest we’ve come to being caught — Mom asked if she could borrow my phone, and it wasn’t until half an hour later that I realized what I’d done. Fortunately she hadn’t found any of them — she was just backing up my contacts onto her computer. Close call!

Things really escalated when we discovered one of the camera’s attachments let you set a timer, so you can take a photo every hour or every ten minutes or whatever. Dad got it so he could do those time-lapse things, like they do on Breaking Bad. I set it to take a snapshot every ten seconds, and got in front of the camera with Bri.

It was, and keep in mind that it had some pretty tough competition, one of the hottest sessions we’d ever had. It was just what we’d normally do, but angled slightly towards the camera, but thinking about the images, the fact that we’d be able to look at these forever, the idea of photos leaking out onto the internet, and thousands of guys and girls getting off to images of us kissing, playing, fucking…

It made everything so much more electric. When I was sucking on Brianna’s nipples, I wasn’t just sucking on her nipple, I was forever capturing the image of one sexy teenager pleasuring another… when I was spanking her, I wasn’t just spanking her, I was punishing my bitch, for the world to see… when I came, I wasn’t just coming, I was broadcasting my orgasm to everyone with a computer, showing everyone how horny, how wet, how sexually charged I was… we were amateur pornographers, and it was so damned hot.

I really didn’t think it could get any hotter than that, but when the camera had run out of power and we lay back, exhausted, cuddled up on my bed, Brianna whispered something in my ear. Something that I knew was a terrible idea, but so hot that I knew I wouldn’t be able to resist it.

“Bec,” she whispered. “Let’s get caught.”

“Okay,” I immediately agreed. “Where, though? And by who?”

Bri pondered this for a couple of seconds, then with a bad-girl smile, whispered, “By Mom.”

***

Joanna

I should start by pointing out that I’m not a bad person.

Knowing what I’ve done, I can see how one would come to that conclusion. But if you think about it, for what I was doing to truly be wrong, I’d have to be manipulating my daughters somehow, changing them. But my tapes never once made the girls do anything they didn’t already want to do — no matter how many references to washing the car or keeping the toilet clean I included, it didn’t make a difference. I mention stockings once, and suddenly they never stop wearing them.

Not that I was complaining, mind you.

So while, at first glance, it may seem like I was brainwashing my daughters, I don’t think that’s a fair description. I was just unlocking urges that they’d always had inside them. I never made them do anything that went against their own desires; if anything, I was speeding up the process, accelerating their sexual education.

It made sense; I was the same way at their age. When I graduated high school, I don’t think there was a single fellow in my senior year who I hadn’t gone down on, if not much much more. As a family, we’re sexually charged creatures — that’s just the way it is. I didn’t cause it, I was just the catalyst in an inevitable chain of events.

This was further evidenced in the fact that they reacted completely differently to the exact same commands. I had one set of tapes that they both listened to, suggesting that they wanted to be obedient, submissive little sluts for mummy. Brianna took to it like a fish to water; there were times when I’d ask the girls to come help me cook, and Brianna would be in the kitchen almost before I was. I’d ask her to do something, and she’d snap to it. I’d yell at her, tell her she was useless, and she’d just lap it up… Rebecca, however, wasn’t having any of it.

I never made my darling girls do anything they didn’t want to. They’re teenagers; nature programmed them to be horny, bi-curious sluts before my tapes ever came on the scene. Odds are they would have been sleeping in each other’s beds pretty soon, even if I’d never done anything. I just provided them with an excuse to start.

So no, I don’t think that what I did makes me a bad person. I was just unlocking their natural desires, speeding up the inevitable course of events. I didn’t lose any sleep over my actions.

I’m not a bad person.

And what I did next didn’t change anything. It wasn’t bad.

It was, perhaps, a little bit naughty. But it wasn’t… wrong, not exactly.

I’ve always been a borderline nymphomaniac — even when I’m getting my sexual needs taken care of by the men in my life (or, at times, the women), I can’t think of a single day in my life that I haven’t masturbated as well, but since my daughters started taking care of each other sexually, I’ve just been chronic. I’ve almost worn out my collection of toys.

When it was all theoretical, I found the idea arousing: images of my little Brianna and Rebecca practicing kissing, or going down on each other. Pressing their tight, young bodies against each other… bringing each other off, over and over again. Making love; sweaty, passionate love.

Since I’ve made it happen, my libido has just grown and grown. I’ll be sitting in the living room, knowing that the twins have made love where I’m sitting, probably in the past twenty-four hours. I’ll take a shower, and wonder if they’ve taken to showering together, long, soapy, sensual showers… I’ll be making their bed, and I’ll remember what my sweet little Brianna’s face looked like as she came. Everything I do reminds me of sex, my baby girls having sex. Everything I do turns me on, and when I’m turned on I simply must take care of it…

Fortunately, I came up with a solution.

It wasn’t my first solution. No, at first I thought that all I needed to do was see my daughters’ bodies and I’d be fine. So I had them take photos of themselves and managed to get myself a copy. But all that did was fuel my desires. I spent so much time looking at them… well, I’m amazed no one caught me with my pants down, so to speak. I feel like my computer shows naked pictures of the twins more than it shows the desktop.

But it wasn’t enough. I needed more. I needed to see them in action.

So I pushed for them to start exploring each other in new and exciting locations around the house — the living-room, the kitchen, the lounge. Any time no one’s around, the tapes suggested they go out and make love.

After that, it was child’s play to tell the girls that I was going out, double back and watch through the window, or hide in a cupboard with a good view. It felt strange at first, a woman my age hiding in a cupboard — but strangely, I started to find sneaking around sexy in itself.

The tapes had already suggested to the twins that when making love, they were oblivious to the outside world. Fortunately, this suggestion seemed to take — I suppose we all want sex to be like that, a wholly immersive experience. If they hadn’t gone for it, I don’t know how quickly I would have been caught — I’m quite noisy, even when I’m only pleasuring myself.

I thought for sure that would do it, that seeing them make love in front of me, physically no more than a few feet away… I was certain that would satiate my desires, but it did nothing but stoke the fires of my fantasies. I went from getting myself off twice a day to four, five, sometimes six times. After seeing them in action, it played in my head constantly. Images of my girls making love to each other would go through my mind no matter what else I was doing; at the gym, on the phone, doing the shopping…

And so I spent weeks fighting with my conscience before I took the next step. I’d like to tell myself that I only did it because I needed to, because I’d brought myself to a point where I had no choice, if I hadn’t found a new release I would have done something terrible, like start exposing myself in public…

But the truth is, I didn’t do it because I needed to. I did it because I wanted to.

I believe it was Freud who said that all children, ultimately, desire their mother. I kept this in mind as I made my next set of tapes — all I was doing was tapping into their natural urges. If all children want to have sex with their mother, by encouraging my girls to do the same, you could hardly call me a bad person. Similarly, we all reach a stage where we find people in their forties attractive, even if it takes until we’re well past that age ourselves. Again, all my tapes were doing was speeding up the process for my girls.

Luckily, some of my earlier tapes had inadvertently laid the groundwork. I’d found, all too often, the girls wouldn’t come out and cavort where I could see them out of a fear of being caught — to remedy that, I’d simply given them the desire to be caught. Purely as a fantasy, of course, but it was a foundation I could build my plan on. While watching them, I’d imagined myself participating, making love to one of my darling little angels — to help my fantasy play out, I’d encouraged them to call each other “mother”, and even engage in occasional mother-daughter role-play. This was all easily tweaked to lead towards including me in their sex games.

The next month was agony, as each tape brought me closer and closer to living out my wildest fantasies. The first had been basically the same as the last few, but with a few phrases that would point them in the right direction…

You are a dirty little slut for your sister. You are a slut for your family. You are always turned on. You are always horny. You want sex all the time, and you want to get caught having it. You put DVDs back in their case when you’re done with them.You want to get caught having sex. Your mother is sexy. Your mother is hot. She turns you on. You want to fuck your mother.

You want to fuck your mother.

The changes were subtle, but in the course of normal events, I started to notice them. At breakfast, I would bend over to pick up a teaspoon, and turn just in time to see both my daughters pretending not to check out my ass. I’d be hiding inside a shrub as my girls made love in the back garden, and I’d hear one of them call out ‘mother’ as she came, even when they weren’t role playing. And more and more, after I walked into a room, they’d continue making out for a few seconds before stopping and offering flimsy excuses — as soon as I’d leave, the noises that started up showed how much being caught excited them.

Little things, but they confirmed that my plan was working. The next tape took a bigger step:

Older women are sexy. You are always horny. You are always ready to fuck. You want to get caught having sex. Your mother is sexy. You want to fuck all the time. You want to fuck your mother. You will vacuum after you spill potato chips, not just pick up the big pieces. Your mother is sexy. You want to fuck your mother. Your mother needs sex. Your mother needs sex from you.

This time, the difference in their behavior was slightly more obvious — both girls suddenly stated asking me about my sex life. When I assured them that yes, I was getting sex from their father, both their eyes glazed over for a few seconds, and I knew that they were imagining it. The only problem, I told them, sighing, was that it had been so long since I’d had sex with a woman. They looked at each other as I said this, and I could see the seed of an idea forming in their minds.

As I saw their reactions to the next tape, I was filled with hope. My plan was working.

You want to be more sexually inclusive. You want to include your mother in sex. You want to have sex with your mother. You want to fuck your mother. You want to make sure your shirts are the right way out before you put them in the wash. Your mother is sexy. You are always turned on. You are always horny. Your mother makes you horny. Your mother can teach you to fuck. You want your mother to teach you to fuck.

Again, the changes started out small. They weren’t at the stage where they were just going to invite me to jump in the sack with them, but it was starting to get close. Brianna walked in on me masturbating once or twice, and each time she watched for a few minutes before pretending to be grossed out and leaving. When I ‘accidentally’ came across Bec’s vibrator while cleaning her room, she offered to share it with me. And both of them had suddenly started asking me a lot more questions and advice about sex than they’d ever asked before. It was funny, in a way, listening to them ask questions for “a lesbian they know”, or “a friend who is having sex with her sister.”

Being so close to the fruition of my plan was making me absolutely climb the walls. If I didn’t have three or four of my own, I would have taken Bec up on her offer to share her vibrator…

One more tape, I told myself. One more tape, and then… it would be time.

When your mother catches you, you will invite her to join. You will fuck your mother. You want to fuck your mother. You want to get caught by your mother, and have her teach you to fuck. You are constantly horny for your mother. Your mother turns you on. You will remember to put the lid back on your lubricant when you’re done with it. Your mother is sexy, and should be included in your sex. You want to make your mother happy. You want your mother to teach you how to fuck.

I’d set the stage carefully. I’d told the girls that their father and I were going out, and that they’d have the entire house to themselves. I’d told Joshua that I’d drop him off for poker night with the boys. I’d even picked out outfits for the girls — a black halter top and matching short skirt for Bri, and a strapless black dress for Bec. Everything was ready.

After dropping Josh off, I’d gone almost double the speed-limit the whole way home. Fortunately I wasn’t pulled over. When I got home I crept around the back, and was delighted to see that everything was going just as I’d hoped. Bec and Bri were on the couch, kissing passionately, their hands between each other’s legs.

It was so romantic; the two obviously cared for each other, as they tenderly brushed each other’s hair back, even while they spread their legs lewdly and groped at each other’s breasts. Their kisses were slow and heartfelt, with closed eyes, and the pair occasionally stopped making out to giggle over an in-joke.

I stood and watched for as long as I was able, the anticipation building inside me, before I finally couldn’t take it anymore, and entered the room.

“Brianna! Rebecca!”

“Mom!” the girls exclaimed, as they jumped back. They were genuinely shocked; if they’d been expecting to be caught, they would have continued the kiss for a few minutes before “noticing” me.

“What on earth are you girls doing?”

“Nothing,” they said, trying to keep a straight face.

“Nothing? That doesn’t look like nothing to me.”

There was a pause, as the girls stared at me, agog.

“I decided to let your father go out alone,” I explained, hungrily watching the girls try to brush down their dresses and appear as if they hadn’t spent the last half-hour making out. “I thought we could spend some quality time together.”

I crossed the room and stood in front of them, hands on my hips. I wasn’t angry, but wondered if I appeared to be; towering over them, dressed in a long slinky black dress of my own.

“Well?” I continued. “Do you want to explain yourselves?”

The giggles broke at last, as they both looked at each other and my dress, around the room and anywhere except my face.

“We were… practicing.” Brianna explained, which set off a fresh set of laughter from both of them. I had been a teenage girl once too; I knew it wasn’t humor that was causing their reaction, but sheer nervousness. This was a big night for all of us, and giggling was how they expressed their excitement.

I stared at them for a few seconds, glad that they weren’t looking directly at me — if they had been, they would have noticed my own smile.

At last, I broke the silence. “Here,” I said kindly. “I’ll show you how to kiss.”

The laughter was suddenly gone as I sat down between them. I turned to Brianna, and simply leaned in and kissed her. Rebecca watched in awe as Bri and I dueled tongues for almost a minute. When I finally pulled away, she was speechless.

“Wow, Mom,” Bec said. “You kiss good.”

Each girl had one hand on my leg, as I turned to face Bec, brushing her hair out of her face.

“Well, I’ve had a lot of… practice,” I said, and demonstrated. I had one hand on each of my girl’s heads, as Bec stroked my leg and Brianna brought one hand up to cup my breast.

I was in heaven, as I kissed one girl and then the other, my hands exploring their legs, their bodies. I loved stroking their hair, and feeling them stroking mine. I held Rebecca’s head in my hands, and felt Brianna tentatively kissing my shoulder. I saw Rebecca put one hand between her legs, and replaced it with my own.

“I’ve practiced this too,” I said, inspiring a new round of giggles.

It was everything I’d ever dreamed of — Brianna took off my dress — I’d had the foresight to go without a bra — and for the first time in almost sixteen years, my daughters suckled on my breasts as if they were newborns. I remembered how erotic I’d found it at the time — I couldn’t think of a day in their lives when I hadn’t been turned on by my daughters, and now, at last, I was able to have them as I pleased.

The next few hours were a wild mix of different sexual positions — all three of us were naked within minutes, and there wasn’t a moment when I didn’t have at least one of my daughter’s mouths on me somewhere. I had both my twin daughters between my legs, alternating between making out with each other and licking me. Brianna fingered her sister, and then brought her fingers up for me to taste. I suckled on Bec’s nipples while Brianna went down on me, and then later we reversed positions.

It was well past midnight when we stopped — Josh had called about an hour before to tell me that he was going to stay the night at his friend’s house. Fortunately he had no way of knowing that when he called, one of his daughters was licking my nipples while his other daughter was between my legs.

If it hadn’t been a school night, I’m sure we would have kept going until daylight, but I wanted to make sure the girls got to bed at a reasonable hour.

I’m not a bad mother, after all.

The End