By Invitation Only, Part One

  • Posted on May 5, 2021 at 12:53 pm

Note from JetBoy: This story is a sequel to Karen Halle’s 2020 story “Only One Wish.” The author preferred to keep this new story separate, rather than make it Part Two of the original. You don’t necessarily have to read “Only One Wish” before diving into this, but it will increase your enjoyment of the new work. Either way, please enjoy.


by Karin Halle

My decision to pull up roots and move to a new city was made easily enough. The death of my daughter Larissa had left me with no reason or desire to stay where I was. Nothing remained but unhappy memories and an all-encompassing sadness. At the age of thirty-seven, I ached for a fresh start, a new life with nothing and nobody from my past.

The only thing that moving to a new location couldn’t fix was the hole in my heart – actually, it was a hole in my entire life.

Larissa’s passing at fourteen had left me devastated – and alone. My parents were long gone, and I was an only child, just as my daughter had been. Her father had not been in contact with either of us for years; in fact, he couldn’t have known that his child had died.

My friends all understood why I had to leave, and we vowed to keep in touch with each other. Well, everyone knows how those promises usually work out.

Having only myself to support, I didn’t need full-time employment, which made it fairly easy to obtain work in my new home town. The fact that it was a larger city also helped, and made finding an apartment with a single bedroom easy to arrange as well. The building was located in a lovely suburb, and for the first time in more than a year, I began to think of my life in the future tense. I even emailed a few friends from my old hometown to tell them how well I was doing.

I soon realised, however, that working part-time left me with too many idle hours, and I knew that sitting around in the little apartment that was now my home was an invitation to dwell on Larissa and how badly my heart still ached for her. After looking into the various options available to me, I decided to join a local art society.

It made perfect sense. Art had been one of my better subjects at school, so I wouldn’t have to start as a complete novice. That said, none of my own work from all those years ago still existed, so I had no portfolio of work to show the group. I did, at least, have drawings and a painting that my daughter had done. I was extremely proud of them… they were, along with photos of her, my most treasured possessions. Naturally, I showed them to the art society and was delighted that they attracted positive responses. All parents think that their kids are great artists, so it’s especially nice when the compliments come from somebody else.

Most members of the art society were seniors, who were only there for something to keep them occupied and enjoyed chatting as much as painting. Few of them were what I’d call capable artists. There was one notable exception, aside from the retired teacher who supervised our group: a woman in her mid-forties named Alex.

We hit it off right away. Alex told me that she was delighted to have a new member of the group who possessed even a hint of artistic talent. In fact, what she said was, “Thank goodness… somebody who knows which end of the brush to put the paint on!”

Although her assessment of the group was completely accurate, she had the good grace to say it after making sure she couldn’t be overheard. We shared a private chuckle.

A couple of weeks later, Alex suggested that we should have a bite together after class.

She took me to a quaint but superb little cafe, where we chatted almost exclusively about art. Once again, Alex expressed pleasure at being able to talk seriously about the subject with somebody, anybody.

Before we knew it, the evening was closing in. We agreed to split the bill and took out our wallets. Alex would put the whole thing on her card, and I’d give her cash for my half of the order. She handed the credit card to the waitress, who promptly set off with it.

Then Alex gave me a thoughtful look as if she was trying to decide something. After a moment, she reached into her handbag, bringing out a small manila envelope. From this, she extracted a piece of paper. For a moment she looked at it, then at me, finally handing it over.

It turned out to be a flier, an invitation to an art exhibition scheduled for the coming Friday. An exclusive art exhibition, according to the invitation. It was addressed to Alex, ‘and friend’.

I was thrilled that she had chosen to extend the invitation to me, seeing as we’d only known each other for a couple of weeks — and I told her so.

“Let me ask you something,” she said. “Do you consider yourself to be an open-minded person? About art, I mean?”

That puzzled me, but I tried not to let that show. “Well, when it comes to culture, I’m not easily offended,” I told her. “Why do you ask?”

Her answer was simple: “You’ll see.”

“What’s this exhibition about, then? Is it pornographic?”

Alex shrugged. “Pornography, art – the two are sometimes interchangeable. How do you distinguish one from the other? And who decides which is which? Using what criteria? I can say this, though — the exhibition is private because there are people out there who would object to it in a very big way. Without even seeing it!” She rolled her eyes.

I admitted to being curious and told Alex that I was adult enough to handle whatever the exhibition might feature.

“I’ll hold you to that!” she said with a grin.

Departing the coffee shop, we said our goodbyes. “See you Friday night, then,” Alex said. “Here, give me your address — I’ll pick you up!” I told it to her, and she typed it into her phone. We shared a brief hug, then went our separate ways.

That Friday evening, I’d just finished getting ready to leave when Alex phoned to confirm that she was waiting outside in a cab. Snatching up my handbag, I zipped downstairs, climbed in next to my new friend, and we were off.

The exhibition was taking place at a downtown gallery. The whole thing seemed to be very hush-hush, though — Alex actually had to show her invitation to a doorkeeper to be allowed to enter, then we saw him turn away a curious passerby in a very brusque fashion.

I noticed something curious right away: there were paintings on the walls, but the room was so dimly lit that we couldn’t really see them. In fact, the only real light came from a doorway on the opposite side. Alex led me in that direction.

“This part of the gallery is closed,” she murmured, placing a hand on my arm. “We’re here for the after-hours showing in the downstairs space.” Sure enough, we descended a flight of stairs, then entered a room at the bottom. As we passed through the door, a waitress handed us each a glass of champagne.

This room proved to be another gallery, smaller than the first, also adorned with frames. Unlike the first gallery, the frames in this room all contained photographs rather than paintings. Most of the pictures were quite large, with some in black and white, others in colour.

There was a theme that tied the collection together: all the photos were of naked girls, their ages ranging from children to teenagers. The poses ran the gamut from fairly modest to very explicit.

Some of the models were turned partly away from the camera, some deployed their hands for modesty, some were staged so their private parts weren’t on display.

At the other end of the spectrum were shots that could easily have graced the pages of adult magazines, were it not for the ages of the models.

These girls showed absolute confidence in the way they posed, displaying a natural ease in front of the camera despite their nudity. There were even a few photographs in which the models were touching themselves.

I was entranced — aroused, even. True, these images were sexual, because they depicted the female body in such an intimate way. At the same time, they were anything but pornographic, no matter how explicit the various poses were. They excited the heart as much as the libido. At least, that was my opinion.

An opinion, I realised, that might not be entirely objective. These images were touching something deep inside me, something sweet and mysterious. I thought all the models looked beautiful, of course – there were different ages, from skinny kids to fully developed teens; some girls had fair hair and others dark; there were different skin hues, a wide variety of facial expressions…

Yet somehow, nearly every one of them reminded me of Larissa. I don’t mean that they physically resembled her, though a few of them did. It was more of a spiritual thing.

That’s when it struck me that my Larissa had never posed for a nude photograph. My heart seemed to stop in mid-beat as that sank in.

When my daughter and I made love, not long before her death, I was responding to her most heartfelt wish: to experience physical pleasure with a woman. I hadn’t even known that Larissa was gay… and I’d never had a lesbian experience of my own, not until then. Oh, I fought the idea at first, but gave in because it was my baby girl’s final wish. And it turned out to be the most beautiful, fulfilling sexual experience of my life.

I missed Larissa terribly, ached inside from the loss of my precious daughter. But I also secretly longed for my fourteen-year-old lover, the one whose last name was the same as mine.

A few weeks after her funeral, I brought myself to a frantic orgasm while thinking of that wondrous night, when Larissa and I had shared our bodies, our souls. I remembered how perfectly she’d fitted into my arms; the sweet scent of her skin; the taste of her mouth, her sex, her rosebud; the music of her cries when I’d made her come.

Then I recalled how my daughter had pleasured me. How could I even begin to describe that experience, how incredible it is to be taken as a lover by the girl I’d given life to? At first, I had been reluctant to do these things with Larissa, but as we lay together afterward, our bare bodies entwined, I felt no guilt at all.

I thought of all these things while fingering myself… then afterward I wept, ashamed for having used my lost daughter as a masturbation fantasy.

That didn’t keep me from doing the same thing a week later. And a few days after that, I made myself come twice, lost in erotic visions of my sweet Larissa. By then, I was reconciled to this fierce need of mine, even if it made me somewhat uneasy. By the end of the month, even that discomfort was gone.

My friends told me I needed to start dating again, to find myself a boyfriend. But I didn’t want a new lover, whether male or female. I wanted my daughter back. And even though that wasn’t going to happen, I had the impressions of our lovemaking to sustain me.

Now I was looking at photos of naked young girls, dozens of them, wishing that I’d had the foresight to immortalise Larissa in the same way.

I wished for a photograph like the ones in this display, so other people could admire her and see how perfect she was. Perhaps even in an especially revealing pose, like some of these were. Not that Larissa was any kind of exhibitionist, but she was very much like the girls in these images, comfortable in her own body.

My eyes were misting up. Until then, the idea of taking a nude snapshot of my child had never occurred to me, even after we’d been intimate together… now, I wanted one so badly it hurt.

“Well, what do you think?” Until Alex spoke, I’d totally forgotten that she was there.

“Honestly, I’m still trying to work out what I think,” I told her.

Alex frowned slightly.  “You’re not offended, are you?”

“No,” I assured her. “Definitely not. I’m just trying to get the right words.” I moved over to study another photo, this one a girl of eleven or twelve lying on her side, barely concealing her vulva with a hand. “This show could be closed down, couldn’t it? If there was a complaint, I mean. So many of these models are underage!”

Alex looked at me evenly. “Some people – wowsers – would call this child pornography. Others would argue that the human body can never be offensive, that it’s always beautiful. That it’s the ultimate art. Especially children.” She paused. “So, I’ll ask again: what do you think?”

“As photography goes, these are all superb. They’re all really artistic — the poses, the lighting… everything. And the models are all… well, they’re perfect.”

I walked over to one particular photograph. In glorious natural colour, it depicted a girl lying back with her legs apart and comfortably showing herself, without a trace of hair to obscure her mons. She appeared to be in her teens – only just – so the lack of pubes probably meant that she was shaved. Her breasts supported my estimate of her age – they were small, but perfectly conical.

“Take this one,” I said. “She’s beautiful and she knows it, and she’s not afraid to let other people know it too. It looks like she wants the viewer – everybody, really — to appreciate what she has. I’m sure she shares your opinion that the human body is always beautiful.”

“I’m so glad you like it,” a woman’s voice purred behind me. As I turned, the woman was addressing my friend. “Good of you to come, Alex.”

“No way would I miss this, Deanna. You know that.” Alex introduced us – it turned out that Deanna was the owner of the gallery and the curator of the collection.

We spoke for a few minutes before Deanna excused herself to speak to other guests. As she walked away, Alex broke into a big grin. “You really impressed her, with what you said about the model.”

“It wasn’t all that insightful,” I said.

“Nevertheless, you’re right. This girl really does think the human body is a thing of beauty. She’s always had that outlook.” She paused. “Her name is Louise… she’s my daughter.”

I had just then taken a sip of my champagne, and it spurted from my mouth.

Alex giggled. “How gauche,” she mock-scolded. “Would you like to meet her? She’s here somewhere.” She looked around the room, spotted someone and raised her hand to wave.

Sure enough, the girl from the photograph came over, went up on tippy-toe to kiss her mother on the cheek, then offered her hand to me. “Hi, I’m Louise,” she said. “You must be Karin, right?”

I took her hand and murmured “I am,” which was the only thing I could think of to say. My God… she was even lovelier in person.

“Darling, Karin was saying how beautiful she thinks you are.”

“Really? Oh, thank you!” To my utter surprise, she sounded not merely genuine but actually surprised that somebody would say something like that to her. “Makeup and lighting help a lot, you know. Stuff like that can make a big difference,” she said with a sincerity that I found amazing.

When I told her that she looked just as beautiful now, without all the photographer’s tricks, she actually blushed.

“Honey, there’s another shot of you around here,” Alex said. “Do you know where that one is?”

Louise took her mother and I each by the hand and led us to a wall with works we hadn’t yet viewed.

In this photograph, also in colour, Louise was standing, her body side on to the viewer, an arm raised as if she was reaching for something. Unlike the other photograph, in which everything she had was on view, this pose concealed her breasts and sex.

“I like the other one more,” Louise asserted, shaking her head. “This pose is too artificial – in the other one I look more natural.”

“Did you take these, then?” I asked Alex.

Louise answered before her mother could. “Yes.”

“How old are you?” Although I was asking Louise, I was facing Alex.

“Thirteen,” Alex replied. “I’ll be fourteen in a few weeks.” I know that it’s an important distinction when you’re that age.

“My goodness!” I gasped. “You’re younger than my daughter!”

“You have a daughter?” Louise enthused, presumably thinking of a potential new friend.

“I had a daughter,” I corrected her. “She died recently. She was fourteen.”

Louise went from elated to horrified in an instant. “Oh my God, no! That’s awful! Oh, I’m so, so sorry.” Looking as if she was about to burst into tears, she flung both arms around me. Embracing me tightly, she whispered, “I’m so sorry!” three or four times.

Not knowing how to reply, I simply patted her on the back.

Apparently Alex hadn’t known of my loss either – it had never come up in our conversation, it seems. She too was full of apologies. “Jesus, Karin, I didn’t know. I shouldn’t have brought you here. Can you forgive me?”

I had to look over Louise’s shoulder to speak to Alex. “There’s nothing to forgive. You said it yourself — you didn’t know.” I had to take a breath, briefly overwhelmed by memories that were simultaneously wonderful and painful. “It’s okay. Really it is.”

Although my assurances were sincere, the atmosphere at the exhibition had changed in a big way for the three of us. Alex knew it, too. “Come on. We’ll go back to my place. You two get a taxi and I’ll apologise to Deanna. I’ll be right with you.”

I protested – to Alex’s back. Meanwhile, Louise, having disentangled herself from me, was already leading me back to the door that led to the other gallery and, from there, the door to the street. Alex caught up with us just as her daughter flagged a cab down.

Once Alex had given the driver her address, I said, “Really, there’s no need — I don’t want to drag you away from the show…”

“Don’t you worry about it,” Alex told me. “I told Deanna that you suddenly felt unwell, which wasn’t much of a lie. And she’s used to me being flighty.” She laughed. “I always have been.”

I’m sure I looked confused, because she added, “She’s my sister. At least I put in an appearance.”

As we rode to Alex’s place, Louise hesitantly began to ask me questions about Larissa. Alex quickly shushed her daughter, but I said, “I don’t mind talking about her. In fact, I’m grateful for the chance to tell someone how wonderful she was.”

I was surprised to hear myself saying those words. After her passing, I’d always avoided speaking about my daughter. If anyone asked if I had children, my usual response was a terse “No.” But something about Alex and Louise made me want to share my thoughts and impressions of Larissa, to see her through my eyes.

At the small home Alex and her daughter shared, they led me to their living room. Louise promptly made an exit, announcing, “I’m going to get changed.”

“Hang that dress up carefully,” Alex called after her. From what I had observed of Louise, I was sure she always took good care of the blue dress she had been wearing. It was obviously expensive.

A few minutes later, two things happened. Alex handed me a glass of wine, and Louise returned — only now, she was stark naked.

“Honey,” Alex scolded. “Guest!” She indicated me with a sharp gesture of her thumb.

“Oh, Mum… It’s all right with you, isn’t it Karin? You don’t mind if I’m naked, do you?”

Having seen all her charms on open display at the gallery, I figured that refusing to let her be naked now would be rather hypocritical.

“It doesn’t bother me,” I told her, “but it’s not up to me. It’s your mother’s decision.”

“Mum doesn’t mind me being naked,” Louise declared as she sat down on the sofa. “Do you, Mum?”

“She’s always in the altogether around the house,” Alex explained with a wry grin. “The only reason she puts clothes on to go out is because she has to.”

“We were born without clothes, so it’s totally normal,” Louise added.

I glanced in her direction. Sitting down, she had rearranged herself and was now seated with one leg tucked under the other. This put her vulva on display, almost as clearly as it had been in the photograph.

Louise noticed me looking at her and smiled. “Would you like to take my picture, Karin?” she asked.

“Not now, sweetheart,” Alex said. “We just got here — let her relax.”

“We’re home a lot earlier than we expected, though,” Louise pointed out. “It’s not like any of us are worn out, right? Let’s do something fun!” My daughter had been the same — an expert at persuading grownups to go along with her ideas.

Alex looked at me. Surprising myself, I answered, “I’m fine with it.”

With a shrug, Alex opened a cabinet, from which she carefully extracted a very expensive-looking camera and a folding tripod.  She quickly set up the apparatus, then announced, “If it’s okay with you two, I’m going to have myself a long, hot, soothing bath.”

Before she could leave, I piped up, “I don’t know how to use this thing!”

Alex came back. She pulled off the lens cap, looked through a viewfinder on top of the camera and moved the tripod slightly. She peered through the viewfinder once more, then adjusted the focus of the lens.

“There. All setup. You can’t go wrong. All you have to do is push the button.” She took a remote control unit from the bottom of the camera and pressed a red button. A green light appeared on the remote controller. “Green button… picture taken.” She pointed to a screen on the remote. “That’s the image monitor. Use the yellow button to save the image. Any questions, ask Louise. Any more questions, you’ll have to work it out for yourselves. Now, if there’s nothing else…”

Alex vanished through the doorway. I looked at Louise, dumbfounded, and she grinned back. A moment later, the sound of running water could be heard.

“I’m rea-dy…” Louise sang, relaxing into her seat.

What else could I do? My heart raced as I stood and slowly approached the mounted camera.

When I bent to look into the viewfinder, I almost fainted. Alex had aimed the lens directly between her daughter’s thighs, and focussed the zoom to get a close-up of Louise’s pussy.

Telling myself It’s just a test shot, I picked up the remote device and pushed the green button. A close-up of Louise’s sex appeared on the monitor. My hand shook as I pressed the yellow button. Even on the little monitor it was apparent, very apparent, that Louise’s pussy was wet. What was going on here?

I looked up at Louise. She was smiling prettily, almost making me want to adjust the camera to take her portrait. Those sapphire eyes of hers seemed to penetrate my soul.

There was no doubt that she could read me like a book, sensing the confused arousal that I felt. Her smile slowly turned into a cheeky grin as she reached down and spread her labia open with two fingers, revealing the inner flesh of her vagina.

No longer thinking in any way like a responsible adult, I stared into the viewfinder. It showed various shades of pink, glistening with wetness. I was trembling where I stood, trying not to let it show.

I pushed the green button, then pushed the yellow button.

Another peek at Louise… her expression was positively gleeful, like a child with a new toy. When she saw me looking again, she reached down with the other hand to push back the hood of her clit.

The green button, followed by the yellow button.

My head was spinning. I heard Louise say, “I can put a finger inside, but then all you would see in the picture is my hand. You couldn’t see my pussy properly.”

I didn’t respond, but she had a suggestion. “If you like, you can come over here and touch me yourself, then take the picture with the remote.” Her eyes were dancing with mischief.

The sheer lewdness of her proposal quickly jerked me back to reality. Just minutes earlier, I’d attended an art exhibition that, in a legal sense, featured child pornography. Now there I was, creating kiddie-porn of my own.

Fearful that my legs would buckle under me, I sat down heavily in a nearby chair. “What the hell is this?” I gasped. “Wh-what are you doing?”

That sweet smile reappeared on Louise’s lips. “I enjoy being naked. I love showing myself off. And I love to shock people. Especially pretty ladies like you.”

“But… why would you want to shock me?”

She rose and, moving as elegantly as a gazelle, padded over to where I sat. “Mum likes you. She said that you’re intelligent and kind and have a beautiful soul… and that you’re very sad. I think she wanted to give you a…. a bit of a jolt.”

I had to laugh in spite of myself. “Well, if that’s what she was trying to do, she sure succeeded!”

Louise offered her hand, which I took, then she gently guided me to my feet. “Come with me.”

When I managed to speak, it came out as a croak: “Where?”

“I can’t take your pain away, but maybe I can help you to forget it for a while..”

Submitting meekly, I allowed Louise to lead me through the house until we reached her bedroom. She sat on the bed, then tugged on my hand until I sat down beside her.

I was afraid to look at her, frightened of what I might see in those eyes… then soft lips brushed my neck, and the warm tip of her tongue trailed a pathway up to my earlobe, which she nibbled.

Oh my God, oh my God…  is this really happening? I was intensely aroused — and terrified.

“We can’t do this,” I whispered, afraid that Alex would hear if I spoke too loudly. “Your…your mum…”

“She won’t mind,” Louise murmured. Her hand now rested on my thigh.

I was both surprised, yet not surprised – in the world inhabited by Alex and Louise, it seemed that just about anything was possible.

Louise suddenly moved to straddle my lap, a look on her face that was almost a challenge. “We’ve made love, you know,” she said. “Mum and I, I mean. Many times.”

I felt certain she knew, somehow, that I had no right to criticise Louise or her mother for that.

For the first time, I admitted it out loud. “I made love to my daughter, too.”

Louise placed her hand in the middle of my chest. “You gave her the deepest love possible, gave her pleasure. And it gave you pleasure, too, to make her feel that way. Didn’t it?”

Rendered mute, I nodded.

“And then she gave her love to you. She loved you with her body and her soul. It’s the greatest gift that a girl can share with her mother… and it made you both incredibly happy. Am I right?”

Her words struck me to the core. With difficulty, I found my voice. “How can you know that? How can you possibly know that?” I was shaking, on the verge of tears.

“I’m sensitive,” she replied. “That’s what Mum calls it. I can sense your feelings. I’m not a mind reader, so I don’t know your daughter’s name, but I can feel your emotions.” She paused. “You were… close to her, I can tell that. Closer than most mums are with their daughters.”

“We — we were close, yes,” I mumbled. Even as I struggled with memories of Larissa, the scent of Louise and the warmth of her body were playing games with my head.

“I can see that… but I didn’t know for sure that you were lovers. I thought maybe you wanted to be her lover, but never got the chance.” Her silken arms twined their way around my neck, and she nestled into my lap.

Overcome by a need to explain, I told her, “Larissa was going to die, and she wanted t-to experience what it was like to make love. I didn’t know until then that — that she was gay. There was no one else to help her, no one! Just me. All that mattered was making my little girl happy. So I went to bed with her… even though it wasn’t right.”

“Of course it was right. Sex is a wonderful thing – for us humans. It isn’t an urge, like with other animals. It’s something we can choose, and enjoy, and use to give somebody else lovely feelings. Sex is actually a gift from nature. A beautiful gift.” Her lips grazed my cheek.

“It was beautiful,” I confessed, suddenly wanting Louise to know everything. “I thought I was just giving my daughter what she wanted… but it was so good, making love to her. I never knew sex could be like that!”

“Was it your only time together?”

I shook my head. “It was our only night together. We… did it several more times before the sun came up. The next day… we never discussed it, but there was a sort of, of silent agreement between us that it was a one-time thing.” I sighed heavily. “She died two days later.”

“Oh, my. That is sad.” Louise shifted a bit, still resting in my lap. “I’m not squashing you, am I?”

“No, not at all,” I replied. “Here’s the thing, though. A few weeks after she was gone, I started having these fantasies about Larissa. Sex fantasies. One night, I got myself off, remembering the things we did.”

“Hmmm. Interesting.”

“I felt ashamed of myself afterward, too. But the next time… well, it didn’t feel as bad. Or the times after that. Now, well, I guess I’ve become obsessed with her, with what we had on that one night.” I couldn’t hold back a sob, couldn’t keep that first tear from falling. “God what a fucked-up mess I am. First I had sex with my own daughter, then I f-fell in love with her. And now — now she’s g-gone forever…” And just like that, I was crying.

I felt gentle hands lift my face, then I was staring into Louise’s soulful eyes. “Listen to me, Karin,” she began. “You are a good person. You made your daughter’s last wish come true, even though you felt it was wrong to do. Then it turned out to be a beautiful experience.

“Now she’s gone, and you miss her something awful. Why wouldn’t you miss making love with her, too? You weren’t wrong to give her what she wanted… and it doesn’t make you bad to wish you could be with her that way again.

I clumsily wiped my face. “Most people wouldn’t agree with you. They’d call me a disgusting pervert.”

Louise rolled her eyes. “Oh, society. What do they know?” She giggled. “It’s funny – the most natural things in the world are nakedness and sex. And they’re the things that are the most… forbidden.’

I felt it necessary to shake my head in an attempt to clear my thoughts. “You’re a marvel, Louise. How did you get so… so wise?”

Louise smiled. “Mum says I have an old soul.”

She leaned close and kissed me, her lips touching the corner of my mouth. At the same time she reached behind to pull down the zip of my dress.

I knew I should stop her, or at least protest, but I was distracted by those lovely kisses, which grew increasingly heated as Louise undressed me. Before long, I found myself naked — and by then, it was too late to stop.

As we lay down together the kisses continued, our tongues now coming into play. I felt fingers caressing my pussy.

“You’re so wet!” Louise announced. “You really need this, don’t you?”

“More than you can imagine,” I moaned. “You’re like — medicine for my soul.”

“Medicine for the soul. I like that,” she said. Her touch was so gentle that it was barely there, but it was so, so unbelievably arousing. Not that I needed to be aroused any further.

Oh God – it felt as if my clit was being brushed by a rose petal.

I could feel that blissful pressure building up inside me, my limbs beginning to tremble. So soon? She’d scarcely even begun!

It was coming, though — and then it was upon me before I had time to draw a decent breath. I wailed as an immense orgasm consumed me completely.

Only once before had I felt anything this powerful – that had been when my daughter and I had made love that first time.

Gasping and sobbing and trembling, I rode out a series of climaxes, gradually drifting back to Earth. My chest felt as if it had been struck with a mallet, though at least I was able to breathe again.

My fists had just unclenched when I heard a voice. “Goodnight, sweetheart. Goodnight, Karin.”

“G’night, Mum. You can come join us tomorrow morning. Will that be okay?”

“That’ll be good, baby.”

When I heard a door close across the hall, I sat up, staring at Louise. “What the fuck?”

She shrugged. “Mum wanted to be with you. But I couldn’t help myself! I could feel it when we met today – you and I were meant to be together.”

I was almost afraid of what the answer would be, but still had to ask. “And in the morning? What happens then?”

“You get to be with Mum. You want her, too — don’t you?”

I stopped to think. Did I? Before, I’d only thought of Alex as a friend. But now that the possibility existed of taking her as a lover, I realised that yes, damn it, I did want her. Maybe I always had.

“Well, um, yes. I guess I do.”

Louise grinned. “Cool! She has to share you with me, though. I’m gonna be your real girlfriend.”

“B-but you’re only thirteen!” I feebly protested.

“Doesn’t matter. Anyhow, I’ll be fourteen soon.”

Did that make a difference? Actually, I wasn’t interested in thinking about it right then.

It was far more important to give Louise the same pleasure she had given me. Or at least try.

Reaching for this exquisite child, I drew her into my arms. I rolled onto my back, so her naked form was stretched out atop mine. “Well, if you’re going to be my girlfriend, I guess I should make it official, huh?”

“I’m cool with that,” she replied, her eyes dancing excitedly.

My mouth found hers, and we fell into a hot, hungry kiss.

This Way to Part Two!


20 Comments on By Invitation Only, Part One

  1. mollymom says:

    omg – in tears – so so moved. such a great next chapter for Karin.

  2. Lakeisha says:

    Exquisitely beautiful, arousing, heartwarming and tearful memories of Larissa’s passing in “Only One Wish.” Looking forward to chapter two?

  3. David says:

    What a moving story, I can’t wait for the next chapter! So well written and detailed and a great story line. Thanks Karin and I look forward to reading more and more about these characters. I remember reading ‘Only One Wish’ and how sad I was when Larissa pasted away and how empty Karin was and now reading this, I know she has found a new life, one worth living for. Well done!

  4. Chris says:

    What a great follow-up. Can’t wait for chapter two.

  5. Bryan says:

    Haven’t read the 1st story yet kinda scared to now probably gonna hurt like hell but this was beautiful

  6. lofftie50 says:

    Simply lovely

  7. carol says:

    OMG I so enjoyed the first chapter of this well written story. Looking forward to the next.

  8. Erocritique says:

    I really like where I think this is going. If I’m right, the bittersweet ending of “Only One Wish” will be magically transformed into a spiritually joyful new beginning; like a Phoenix rising from the ashes. Wondrous. ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

  9. Karin Halle says:

    I am truly grateful for these thoughtful responses. Those of you who read stories at JS are very discerning, and your approval means a lot to me.

  10. Phil says:

    What a great followup, cant wait till the next installment

  11. kim says:

    What a beautiful follow up, Karin.

    So moving and erotic at the same time. We all grieve differently, and sometimes sex is part of the process.

    We love that there are just out and out sex stories on this site and then stories like yours for when we want that extra something special. Good job and looking forward to the next chapter.

    Kim & Sue

  12. JanieButter says:

    Beautiful, sensual, erotic and very enjoyable!

  13. Tim and Litka says:

    Loved your first story Karin, even though it had such a sad ending, and this one is every bit as good, just a lot happier.

    As Kim and Sue have said, this story gives us something just a little extra, something very special. And now you’ve got us hanging on for chapter 2. We can’t wait!!!

  14. Donna says:

    What a beautiful story, wonderfully written and so moving.

  15. Swampthing99 says:

    Oh my, this is interesting. I finished a “Season of Good Will” the other night and just came back to read any new comments on the story. That is when I saw that you had written a story titled: “By Invitation Only”. The interesting thing is I also have a story by the same name. It is not currently an erotic story but I am considering turning it into one. Currently, it is a horror novel that I am completing the final edit on before publishing it to Amazon. I know that’s really just a giant vanity press but I’m excited nonetheless. I know this isn’t a big deal to you but it kind of made my day for some reason. I can not wait to read your story later today. I know this isn’t the best place to put this but I was not aware of a way to message you directly. Thanks again.

  16. Swampthing99 says:

    Couldn’t wait until later and read the first chapter in the waiting room of my doctor’s office. This is a wonderful piece of erotica and as soon as I’m done with the second chapter I’ll go back and catch up on only one wish. An earlier comment mentions the difference between a sex story and a story with sex the latter being my favorite type and you’re writing certainly fits the bill. Thank you again.

  17. Swampthing99 says:

    I wrote the comment about the similarity in the title of our stories before I read “Only One Wish.” I feel foolish now. The beauty, love, and intensity of “Only One Wish” deserved better than my selfish interest. I am glad though because it gave me the opportunity to be touched by such a beautiful piece of literature. I can only hope to aspire to a level of creativity and passion approaching your own. Thank you again.

  18. Mo says:

    Oh this is a beautiful story, a worthy sequel to Only One Wish. The pain Karin feels addressed by Louise absolutely perfect. So pleased I read Only One Wish first.

  19. Powertenor246 says:

    I am a musician, specifically a Vocal musician, and this story and “Only One Wish” reminds me of a song that was popular ‘way back in the day’. It will quite probably date me, but the name of the song is “Honey” and it was done by Bobby Goldsboro. Every once in a while, if I am in a certain headspace and I hear that song, way before it ends I will be in Ugly Cry mode. When this happens I simply must just let it go until it leaves me absolutely spent and utterly exhausted wherever I am. I remember once I was at a good friend’s house in his front room talking to his sister. We were listening to the radio, (I know… Radio Gods, huh?), and it hit me just right. All of a sudden there I was, a nineteen year old young man blubbering onto the shoulder of a 12 year old girl. She held me until I was done, (It took me almost half an hour), and then I thanked her for being such a sweet and understanding young lady. She accepted it in the spirit it was given and hugged me again. I kissed her gently on the forehead and we never spoke of it again. I had forgotten about it, in fact, until right now when I was writing this. Your one and a half stories reminded me of it because it made me feel remarkably like I did that day on that couch with Angie. Not many things can do that to me. You have managed it. It takes no small amount of skill, and some mean amount of talent to accomplish this. Absolutely FIVE STARS INDEED. Good night, Powertenor246.

  20. Clit Licker says:

    I actually cried when I read ‘Only One Wish’ and I have tears in my eyes again….as well as certain other physiological changes in other parts of my body. Like the other stories on this wonderful site this is extremely well written and edited, completely believable and super hot.
    Very well done Karen (or is it Karin?) and JB.

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