Floor Show, Part Two

  • Posted on March 13, 2022 at 6:39 pm

by Jacqueline Jillinghoff

Had it all been a dream?

I know, I know, it’s a cliché and a copout, but it really was the first thing on my mind when I woke up. In the bright morning, my memory of the girls’ lovemaking seemed unreal and, frankly, impossible. And it had been lovemaking, not some game of I’ll-show-you-mine-if-you-show-me-yours. Those two were mad for each other, and if what I saw happen happened, suggesting they cool it wouldn’t accomplish a thing.

But the decision would have to wait. First, I needed to pee. I got up and looked around for some evidence of last night’s apparition. I was still naked from the waist down, and my pussy was quite fragrant, so that checked out, though I could have stripped and masturbated in my sleep. More telling was the bedroom door: it was shut all the way, and I remembered that I’d closed it after spying on the girls.

My pajama bottoms were missing, likely tangled in the sheets. I wasn’t about to risk being seen with my sandy delta on display a second time, so I ditched my top, pulled a robe from the closet, and sidled over to the bathroom.

Pissing took the pressure off in more ways than one. Empty bladder, light heart, I guess. So the kids had sex. So what? The world hadn’t come to an end. Or was I just in denial, afraid to think about the talk I knew was coming? I took my time washing up, scrubbing my face and hands before tightening my robe and opening the door onto this new world of preadolescent lesbian love.

I prayed I would find the girls as they had been when I’d kissed them goodnight — still in their nighties, lying chastely side by side. No such luck. They were spooning, Billie behind, holding Kimberly close, like a stuffed bunny, and nuzzling her hair. They had pulled the sheets up during the night, but their shoulders were bare, and I could only assume the rest of them was, too.

I had to stop and admire the scene before I intruded. Sweet is the only word for it. It had been years since I’d spent the night with a lover, warm and naked, the lengths of our bodies pressed together as we slept. I knew how Billie and Kimberly felt, and I also knew if Kimberly’s mother ever found out about what I’d allowed to happen, she’d have me up on trafficking charges, or something.

Even so, I couldn’t help smiling. And Kimberly’s mom wasn’t due to pick her up until eleven.

Time for a bit of fun.

Taking the sheet and blanket in hand, I walked briskly down the bed, peeling them back like the foil on a cup of yogurt.

“Good morning ladies!” I said. “Rise and shine!”

If they weren’t awake when I came in, they were now.

And yes, they were still naked. I said nothing about their state of undress. Each of them was free to assess her predicament and react in her own way. Kimberly flew into an adorable panic. She flopped onto her belly, hanging half off the bed, and groped at the floor for her gown. The search gave me a good long look at her elfin behind. I also noticed, as her feet waved in the air, she was wearing a thin silver anklet, which gave me as much of a tingle as her tush. Any girl who cares enough to adorn her feet has to be aware of how pretty she is.

The green gown was nowhere to be found. I knew where it was, and I wasn’t telling. It had come off the bed with the covers and was buried beneath them on the floor behind me. Kimberly finally realized the quest was hopeless. She sat up, hugged a pillow to her body, and scooted off to the bathroom.

Billie, on the other hand, wasn’t at all self-conscious about being nude. Living in close quarters, we’d accepted long ago that modesty was a luxury we couldn’t afford. She was so used to being naked in front of Mom, in fact, that it never occurred to her that Mom might wonder how she and her little friend came to be naked in the first place. All she did was stretch like a baby, fists balled up beside her ears, toes pointed, and legs open enough to show me the pink cranny between. It looked awfully tight and fresh for the workout it had received.

“Sleep well, honey?” I asked.

“Mm-hmm,” she said, and she rubbed her eyes. She had the silliest grin on her face. And why not? She was getting more action than I was.

“Come on,” I said. “Time to get up.”

“Aw, why?” she said.

The toilet flushed, and Kimberly came back from the bathroom wrapped in one of our towels, still holding the pillow in front. Billie was on her way out, and as they crossed paths behind the sofa, she wrestled the towel and the pillow away. Poor Kimberly yelped and dropped to the floor. Billie, laughing, joined her there, and they were out of my sight for an uncomfortably long time.

Silence at first, then a few giggles, then a decidedly suggestive mmm from Billie.

“Come on, you two,” I said. “Cut the comedy.”

That’s something Mother always said. I found myself thinking a lot about her this morning, imagining how she would botch a situation like this and vowing not to repeat her mistakes. Echoing her didn’t seem like a very good start.

Billie popped up and marched off to pee, taking the towel and the pillow with her. It was her playful way of putting her lover on the spot, but I must say Kimberly was up to the challenge. She stayed hidden awhile, as if considering her options before catching on that no form of protection would be forthcoming. At that point she emerged from behind the bed, one arm across her chest and one hand over the nothing between her legs.

I picked up her overnight bag, which we’d stashed under the desk in the corner, and placed it on the bed.

“Here you go, dear,” I said.

I made a show of looking her directly in the face. Not a word about her being naked. I wanted her to understand she needn’t be embarrassed. I think she did, because she took her time rooting through the bag. She seemed to be making up her mind about what to wear, though she couldn’t have brought too many choices with her. Maybe she was trying to be more uninhibited, like Billie. Or maybe she wasn’t all that shy to begin with. Whatever the reason for the delay, she settled, finally, on a white jersey with green sleeves — green seemed to be her color — that covered her bottom without the need for panties.

Billie chose to remain naked, to show Kimberly it was no big deal, I guess. Together, they helped me fold the couch, straighten the living room, and make my own bed. Billie brushed Kimberly’s hair, tossing aside the headband she’d worn all night, while I went off to the kitchen. Then the three of us sat down to breakfast.

The girls ate like longshoremen. Billie was on her third bowl of instant oatmeal and her second toasted bagel when I dropped the hammer.

“Nice to have an appetite, huh, chicka?” I said.

“I’m starved,” she said.

“How about you?” I asked Kimberly.

“Uh huh,” was all she could say. Her mouth was stuffed with blueberry muffin.

“I’m not surprised,” I said. “You two went at it pretty hard last night.”

The chewing stopped. The little delinquents looked at one another sideways with that wide-eyed, tight-lipped expression kids get when they know they’ve been nailed.

“We need to talk about this,” I went on. “I’m not angry, and it wasn’t really wrong, not exactly, but you’re both so young, and you understand, you need to understand, that what you did, what I heard you do, overheard you do, when anybody does that, even grownups, well, it’s only supposed to be grownups, and they — we — know there’s a lot more to it than just feeling good—”

I was immediately lost in the maze. I wasn’t making sense, I had no idea what to say next, and for a responsible parent beginning a frank talk about the joys and dangers of sex, I hadn’t even uttered the word.

So I was as relieved as they were when a knock at the front door cut my rambling short.

“If that’s your mom, she’s early,” I told Kimberly. “Billie, put something on.”

And Billie, like every ten-year-old who’s given a direct order, didn’t move.

I went to the door in my flirty robe. Through the peephole, I saw a young girl in a red turtleneck, jeans, and a colorful crocheted vest. She stood with her back to me, looking toward the courtyard, but she was quite small and seemed harmless enough. I opened the door.

“Yes?” I said.

She turned around, and she wasn’t a girl. She looked almost forty, with deep-set eyes and lines around her broad mouth, but she was a slip of a thing, slender as a child and a head shorter than me.

She looked me over, starting with my legs and stopping at my tits, which were packed snugly into my robe.

“May I help you?” I prodded her.

“I’m Kimberly’s mother.”

“Liz?” I said. We had spoken on the phone when we arranged the sleepover, but we hadn’t met. “You’re early. Come in. I’m sorry. Brain freeze. I was expecting —”

“You were expecting someone taller.”

“Well, I guess.”

“Everyone’s always surprised I’m not a three-hundred-pound diva,” she said.

“I’m sorry,” I said again. “We haven’t dressed yet—”

And some of us were less dressed than others. I glowered at Billie over my shoulder. We both saw the problem: there was no way for her to run to the bedroom for some clothes without flashing her heinie for our guest. All she could do was leap into the kitchen the instant before Liz and I came in from the entryway.

“Don’t let me disturb your morning,” Liz said. “I’ll collect my charge and be on my way. Hello, Kimberly.”

“Hi, Mom.”

“Did you have a good time?”

“It was okay,” Kimberly said.

“Okay,” Liz repeated. “Your daughter is all she talks about.”

“She talks?” I asked.

“She’s shy with new people, but at home, she’s quite the chatterbox. Aren’t you, honey?”

“I guess,” Kimberly said.

“She guesses,” Liz said.

I got the feeling Liz’s idea of a chatterbox differed from my own to a large degree.

“Speaking of your daughter, I’d like to meet her,” Liz said.

“Oh, she’s around. Billie?” I called.

“In the kitchen, Mom.”

“Take your time,” I said, and I meant it. To Liz, I said, “Would you like something to eat? There’s plenty. The girls were pretty hungry.”

“I’ve eaten, thank you.”

“Coffee, then? You’re not in any hurry, are you? Our daughters are BFFs. We should get acquainted.”

“Would you like to stay awhile longer, Kimberly?”

“Yes, please,” the girl said.

“Coffee would be fine, then,” Liz said.

I got my cup and sat on the sofa, very much aware of how much leg I was showing. And if the bottom of my robe parted at all, I’d be showing quite a bit more. I held the corners together with my free hand.

Liz seemed to sense my discomfort. I caught her glancing at my lower half as she sat down beside me. The sofa bed is only a two-seater. It turns strangers into close friends almost in an instant.

“Billie,” I called, “would you be a good girl and bring our guest some coffee, please? There’s some left in the press.”


I would have been amused, if it hadn’t been so awkward. How would Liz react to being served by a naked little girl? And how bold would Billie be in front of a stranger — especially the mother of the girl she’d been performing sexual experiments on?

But my daughter, ever resourceful, made her entrance without a trace of embarrassment. She was wearing my full-length red apron. I wanted to applaud.

Billie set the cup down on the coffee table, bending low, but careful to face Liz head on. Kimberly, though, got the full view from the dining nook. She got the same look she had when I tried to start my sex talk — like her world was about to implode at any second.

“It’s nice to meet you at last,” Liz said, offering her hand.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Billie replied. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well.”

“Knowing Kimberly has improved her manners,” I said.

“Is there any cream?” Liz asked.

“Of course,” I said. “Billie, I left the half and half on the counter. Would you be so kind?”

If Liz thought there was anything strange in my daughter’s backing out of the room, she was too polite to mention it.

Billie returned in a moment, still rigidly facing front, and set the carton down. She also brought a teaspoon, which I thought showed real presence of mind under the circumstances.

“Thank you, dear,” Liz said.

As she poured and stirred, she examined my daughter closely, as if trying to figure out what it was about her that wasn’t quite right. Billie was barefoot, bare-legged, and bare-shouldered, but completely at ease. She was also bare-assed, though that wouldn’t become fully apparent for another few minutes.

“Honey,” I said, “why don’t you go in and change?”

“That’s okay,” she said, and she knelt on the floor in front of the coffee table, all set to join the adults in conversation.

“Are you sure?” I said.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

The little pisser had me, and she knew it. I could hardly say in front of company, You’re not fine. You’re stark naked. Go put some damned clothes on.

Billie glanced back at Kimberly, who brought her orange juice over and plunked down next to her. She sat on her heels, which hid her pussy well enough, but pulled the hem of the jersey above her bare behind. Fortunately, that particular attraction was pointed away from us, and I don’t think Liz could quite see over the table from her side of the sofa.

“Well, this is cozy,” Liz said.

Sure. Just four hens at a morning coffee klatch. The fact that three of us were naked to varying degrees didn’t seem to be an issue.

The girls sat close together, the way they’d been doing since Kimberly’s arrival, and while Liz held forth on singing and her travels and her ex, they took turns sipping Kimberly’s juice. Billie, on the left, drank with her right hand. Kimberly, on the right, drank with her left. And their free hands, behind each other’s backs, kept busy with furtive touches.

“People think all sopranos are fat,” Liz was saying. “But weight has nothing to do with the power of your voice.”

“No?” I asked.

“Not at all. It’s just baggage. What about weight would add strength to a voice?”

“I wouldn’t know,” I said.

She rolled the cup in her hands, swirling the coffee. And she didn’t see Billie’s hand creep down her daughter’s back. I gave Billie another look, and the arm came up, only to drop even lower a moment later. She found the curve of Kimberly’s bottom and continued on around. At the same time, the apron slackened as Kimberly tugged the string in back.

I thought I could see Billie’s nipples poking through the apron, but that had to be my imagination. What wasn’t imaginary was my own nipples standing up beneath my robe, which was not only short, but thin. I held the cup to my lips, clamping my forearms over my breasts.

I should have expected this after last night. The girls had behaved themselves over breakfast, content with a little footsie under the table, but now that their bellies were full, they couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

Kimberly laid her head on Billie’s shoulder. Her beautiful lips were parted in the laziest, most sensuous way, and she was breathing through them. There was no doubt where Billie’s hidden hand was, or what it was doing.

At last, Liz stopped talking about herself and took some notice of what was going on.

“Looks like Kimberly’s got a new favorite toy,” she said, more to her daughter than to me.

“I never thought of Billie as a toy,” I said.

“She is,” Liz said. “Kimberly is her toy, too. They’re kids.”

Kimberly seemed to take that as permission to play. She kissed Billie on the cheek — a lingering kiss, with eyes closed — and slipped her hand under the apron in front. The red drape, now held in place only by the black strap around Billie’s neck, was nudged aside, and I glimpsed Billie’s bare chest as Kimberly’s fingers glided across it.

Kimberly raised her head, Billie lowered hers, and their lips touched. It was no more than a peck, but it expressed more than any pillow talk I’d ever been a party to. They drew back, processing the experience, decided they liked it, and pecked again.

They quickly discovered they didn’t have to break off each time. On the third try, the kiss went on — lightly, to be sure, but frozen in time. The next movement, unfolding in slow motion, was Kimberly’s: she laid both her hands on Billie’s chest. The apron wasn’t hiding much at this point.

There was the glitter of Billie’s tongue rolling into Kimberly’s mouth, and I banged down my cup.

“Girls,” I said. “Come on. Fun’s fun.”

“Fun’s fun?” Liz asked.

“For some reason, I’m channeling my mother this morning,” I said.

“I get that,” she said. “My ex used to say that we fall back on the familiar to deal with the unfamiliar.”

“You’re familiar with this?”

“Kimberly’s always been curious,” she said. “Touching herself — and other kids. I caught her once with our neighbor’s five-year-old boy.”

“She seems so shy.”

“She is shy,” Liz said. “It doesn’t stop her from getting horny.”

“At her age?”

“At their age,” she said, and she extended her cup toward the floor show.

The apron had become a hindrance. Kimberly slipped it off over Billie’s head and went back to caressing her chest. Was my daughter growing boobs? Those looked like the start of fatty pads under the solid pink dots, or maybe the light from the balcony was casting deceptive shadows.

Billie ran one hand up under Kimberly’s jersey and clutched her bottom with the other. She pressed her face into Kimberly’s neck, which gave the little girl a noticeable surge of pleasure.

“Oh!” she squeaked.

I thought she was going to faint. The strength drained from her face, and she melted onto the floor, dragging Billie down with her. The jersey rode up, of course, and Kimberly’s lack of underwear was now public knowledge. Liz showed no surprise. Her daughter’s baby pussy, really nothing more than a tight black seam, was just one detail in the game being played before our eyes. More arresting was the way the girls kept on making out — mothers be darned. If we wanted to watch, that was fine with them, apparently, but for all they cared, our presence made no difference one way or the other.

“No sense trying to stop them,” Liz said. “Is there any more coffee?”

“I was thinking I could use some wine,” I said.

“Not a bad idea,” she said.

I stepped over the girls on my way to the kitchen. When I returned with the bottle and the glasses, Kimberly was lingually reaming my daughter’s ear. The effect was visible down to Billie’s toes, which were wriggling furiously.

“Don’t mind me, ladies,” I said, stepping over them once again.

Of course, they didn’t mind me. It was as if I wasn’t there. I sat and poured Liz and myself each a generous portion of pinot.

“I can’t get over how beautiful Kimberly’s face is,” I said, just to make conversation. “I can see where she gets it.”

“Thank you,” Liz said. “Your daughter has the cutest bottom. I can see where she gets that.”

“Is it showing?”

“The robe’s kind of snug in back. I enjoyed watching you walk.”

Once the ear-licking had Billie reduced to a compliant mass of gelatin, Kimberly told her, for all to hear, “Put your mouth on it.”

“Can I?” Billie said.

Uh huh, Kimberly said.

Billie had no choice but to obey — not that there was any doubt she would. Sitting up, rolling forward, she raised the hem of Kimberly’s jersey, exposing her tummy. She kissed her way down, pausing to poke her tongue into Kimberly’s belly button, but with her final destination obviously in mind. For a moment she gazed at the hairless shadow-line, as though trying to make up her mind how to approach it. Then, with a sudden resolve, she opened her mouth wide, and Kimberly got her wish.

“Oh!” she squeaked again.

She raised her foot — the one with the sparkling silver anklet — as the wheat-blond crown of Billie’s head dipped toward the floor.

“Mmm,” Liz said. “I haven’t eaten pussy since I was a girl at music camp.”

“Lost your taste for it?” I said.

“I don’t think you ever lose your taste for pussy, do you?”

I sank back into the corner of the sofa, raising my glass in salute, and with a single motion I thought was pretty graceful, given that the wine was going to my head, I drew one knee up to the cushion and undid the bow at my waist.

“Well,” I said, “I think there’s some left over you can have.”

Liz set down her glass. I drained mine as she turned toward me and her face came down. I was well-oiled and pliable, and she easily dug through my softened lips, unearthing my swollen pearl. That familiar, delicious tightness began to bind me up. The warmth of the wine and the heat from my pussy mingled in my veins.

It had been years for Liz, and Billie was wholly new to it, but by memory or instinct, they were both exquisite pussy-lickers. They knew where their own pleasure was centered, and they knew where to find it in us. Where to cause it in us. Of course, it helped that Kimberly and I were both ravenously turned on.

I caught her eye, and each of us saw her own pleasure reflected in the face of the other. I felt her pleasure, too, and I swear she felt mine. We were one, breathing in unison, linked body and mind by our approaching climax.

I dropped my empty glass behind the sofa. My robe fell all the way open, and I cupped my tits, clamping the hard nipples between my fingertips. Kimberly pinched her own chest through her jersey. She had no tits to hold, but her nipples were erect, and twisting them pushed her closer to the edge.

Billie’s head bobbed between her legs. Liz lapped at my pussy. Kimberly and I were at their mercy, unable to move or think, but surrender is a liberating experience.

“Say ‘fuck,’ baby,” I told Kimberly. “Let me hear you say ‘fuck.’”

“Are you corrupting my daughter?” Liz said, smiling evilly over my thatch.

“Oh, don’t fucking stop!” I begged. I clutched desperately at her head, cramming her face back into the mudhole.

It made me feel like a mentor when Kimberly repeated my words — except she surpassed me, because she wasn’t begging.

“Don’t fucking stop,” she commanded Billie. “Don’t you fucking stop!

The words tore away her last shred of innocence, and I watched the orgasm convulse her tiny body. Mine followed in an instant.

Gasping for breath, her thin chest heaving, Kimberly gazed at me in wild-eyed disbelief, unable to fathom how one bitty spot could hold such enormous power. I managed a half-smile, as if to say, It’s all right baby, let it happen. It was all the encouragement she needed. She gave herself over to the wonder of it, and we each let out a wail that signaled our second climax.

Liz said later we’d been harmonizing in perfect fifths.

It felt like forever before we recovered. Kimberly and I floated on warm waves of contentment while Billie and Liz exchanged a smug, congratulatory look.

“Proud of yourselves?” I said.

“I think we have every right to be,” Liz said.

She held my breasts by the sides, wobbling them, puffing them up, playing with them like a little girl who’s wondering if her tits will ever be as big as Mommy’s.

“Such nice boobs,” she said. “I’m jealous.”

“What have you got to be jealous about?” I said. “You get to suck on them. I don’t.”

“This is true.”

She circled her tongue around my left nipple, then drew it into her mouth. I felt my strength returning.

“We could take this to the bedroom,” I said.

“I was about to suggest that.”

“Can we come?” Billie said.

She and Kimberly were lying in the middle of the floor, wrapped in each other’s arms.

“Sweetie, Kimberly’s mom and I would like to be alone,” I said. “You can have the sofa.”

“Please, Vickie?” Kimberly said.

“They let us watch,” Liz said.

“They didn’t care if we watched or not.”

“Still, it’s only fair.”

“Well … all right,” I said. “If you girls promise to behave.”

Though what “behave” meant in the present context, I couldn’t imagine.

My robe floated on the air behind as Liz led me by the hand. Billie and Kimberly skipped along after us, arms around each other, bumping hips and thighs. This was a game to them, a walk in the park. To me, it felt more like insanity.

But I wanted Liz, and she seemed fine with it.

She stripped matter-of-factly and got on the bed. I barely had time to admire her body properly before the girls jumped on her. Kimberly raised her arms, and Billie pulled off the jersey, turning it inside out and dropping it on the floor. I shrugged off the robe, and the four of us, naked but for Kimberly’s ankle bracelet, lay together, side by side by side.

Liz’s body was small and thin, like her daughter’s, but with a trimmed pubic patch, a rounder bottom, and breasts that fit nicely in the palm of my hand. Looking at her, I could imagine her daughter in a few years – just as she, looking at me, could imagine mine.

It was innocent fun at first, a playful romp of girlfriends showing off for one another. The kids had the nerve to start a tickle fight, but of course we were too strong for them. We tossed them on their backs and gave them a hysterical taste of their own medicine. But when we’d all stopped laughing, Liz was still there, and still willing. I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to finger her pussy. I wanted to feel her come as my tongue filled her mouth.

It would have happened that way, too, except things got complicated as the girls climbed over us. Kimberly crawled up my back, peering at her mother over my shoulder. Billie snuggled against Liz’s side, fascinated by her little tits, squeezing and stroking them, and, maybe, fantasizing they were Kimberly’s.

I slid two fingers into Liz’s cunt. I was surprised at how slick she was, since I hadn’t done much to stimulate her. She closed her eyes and pursed her lips for a kiss, but my daughter got there first. They traded tongues. Did Liz know it was Billie and not me?

“Hey!” I said, but they didn’t stop.

Kimberly’s soft hand slid down my ass and dug between my legs. She fingered me the way she saw me finger her mom — maybe not as expertly, but the point was made. I twisted my head and kissed her lightly over my shoulder. She pushed forward, offering her tongue, but only ended up tumbling over onto her mother.

Billie yelped, Liz went oof!, and everyone laughed again. That should have broken the mood, but it only made us more daring. The girls wanted to play, and we obliged. We all tangled together, kissing at random, our mouths moving eagerly from one body to the next. I ate up Kimberly’s toes (at last!). Liz planted a loud smack on Billie’s behind. Kimberly trailed her tongue down her mother’s side. And everyone took a turn sucking my tits.

It was when Kimberly’s mouth arrived at my cunt that things settled into a pattern. Billie lay with her head toward the foot of the bed and her pussy open an inch from my nose, smooth as porcelain and too appetizing to pass up. I thought, Just a nibble, but the nibble grew into a snack, and the snack grew into a feast. I became the filling in an oral sandwich, with a child at each end.

“Oh, let me get in on that,” Liz said.

She pushed herself between the girls, and after a few seconds of scooching and bouncing and honey-move-your-butts, we were locked in an incestuous rectangle with the girls as the short sides. Each mother ate out her daughter. Each daughter ate out her best friend’s mom.

Our four-way orgasm started with Kimberly. She moaned into my pussy, and the buzzing set me off. I tongue-whipped Billie’s clit, and she went rigid all over, crushing my face between her thighs. I could scarcely breathe with my mouth in her cunt and my nose in her ass, but I would not have let up for the world.

Liz took up the chorus, and the circle was complete.

Only when we were sated, and spent, and the tide of longing had, temporarily, receded — only then did I understand the enormity of what had happened.

“Oh, God,” I said, my hands over my face. “What did we just do?”

“We just came,” Liz said.

“Girls, are you all right?”

“Can Kimberly stay over more?” Billie said.

Kimberly was using the inside of my thigh as a pillow. I stroked her hair.

“You want to stay, sweetie?” I said.

She mumbled something. She was already half-asleep.

“We have to talk about this,” I said.

“Not now,” Liz said.

She crept to me between the girls, and for the first time since this whole crazy dream started, she kissed me on the mouth. Her face smelled lightly of pussy, like old perfume. It went to my head more than the wine had. The whole room seemed to tilt, like the deck of a sinking ship.

“We have very wicked daughters,” I said.

“Who have very wicked mothers.”

“I’m so embarrassed,” I said.

“Hm? Why?”

“They’re so much more adventurous than I am!”

“They just know,” she said.

“Know what?”


“Know what?”

“What feels good.”

“And they love each other,” I said. “I mean, really love each other … Don’t you think?”

No answer.

“Billie?” I said.

No answer from her, either.

I was the last to fall asleep.

The End


18 Comments on Floor Show, Part Two

  1. Quinlan says:

    Hot. But somehow a bit rushed. I thought Liz or Vickie to have a stronger reaction to their daughter’s antics and one or the other needing more coaxing to join in. I half expected Vickie to wake up at some point and discover it was all a dream.

  2. cherryco says:

    Loved it! This played out just like I hoped it would. When Vickie started nibbling on her daughter, it was like the Fourth of July in my head. Thanks, Ms Jillinhoff!

  3. Joe Dornish says:

    What a wonderful chapter. I’m slightly in awe of your writing, you paint the picture so eloquently. I’m so taken with these characters and find myself desperately wanting more, which is the mark of an excellent author. Bravo.

  4. Kim & Sue says:

    So many delicious moments. The sweet dirty time of Billie almost getting caught nude, and then later on we had to climax here,

    “Oh, let me get in on that,” Liz said.

    She pushed herself between the girls, and after a few seconds of scooching and bouncing and honey-move-your-butts, we were locked in an incestuous rectangle with the girls as the short sides. Each mother ate out her daughter. Each daughter ate out her best friend’s mom.

    Such a well done vivid fantasy. We couldn’t help but wonder if maybe Liz had already enjoyed both girls at some time before, helping to lead Billie along farther than her mother knew about.

    • Jacqueline Jillinghoff says:

      So glad you climaxed! That is why we write. As for Liz having enjoyed the girls previously, she does say she’s meeting Billie for the first time. Of course, she could be lying, and I don’t like to impose interpretations on any reader, but the idea I had while writing is that it’s the kids’ discovery of their sexuality that rekindles desire in the moms. On the other hand, Kimberly’s relationship with Liz up to this point is subject to speculation.

  5. David says:

    Great finish to a very erotic story JJ. Loved the four of them together in one daisy chain and then enjoying each other. I have said many times that I think mother/daughter love is the hottest in the world, but having two mother/daughter was even hotter. Too bad it had to end.

  6. Gina Oulait says:

    You are really an excellent writer! This is awkward to ask in a comment section, but I love your style, pacing, and tone. Do you have other favorites? Would love to hear who else you recommend. Also, if you’re interested I’d love to pay you for some time editing a scribbling of mine.

    Email me? (I’m at [email protected])

    • Jacqueline Jillinghoff says:

      Gina: My email address is on the Keeping in Touch page.

      And thanks for your comments on the story.

  7. Tim and Litka says:

    We agree with David, mum and daughter loving is so good, and erotic of course, but when another mum and daughter join in too, just wow!!
    Beautifully written and very arousing.
    Thanks JJ. Oh, and a very nice climax too – for us both!!!

  8. Erocritique says:

    This chapter explains why I was intrigued by Kimberly’s mysterious mom after she was mentioned in the first chapter. She turned out to be quite a revelation. As someone else mentioned: I was ready for it all to have been “a dream”. The situations were sooooooo fantastical. Then again, every scenario in this genre is pretty fantastical. That’s one of the reasons I love JS so much. Thanks JJ and everyone at JS.

    • Jacqueline Jillinghoff says:

      Fantastical? It’s was two little girls at a sleepover.

      And I was afraid Part II would not address any of your questions.

      • Erocritique says:

        Well yes….. The whole scenario is / was quite “fantastical”; as are all stories in this genre imho. What made this chapter even more fantastical than most was the incredible pace at which the action developed. Someone else mentioned that it felt rushed, which likely contributed to the fantastical feel of the story. And Kimberly’s mom was a bit of an intriguing enigma after being superficially introduced in the first chapter. I had no idea after the first chapter whether Liz would even make an appearance in this chapter. But Liz certainly made an appearance and satisfied my curiosity.

  9. Keiko says:

    so so loved this chapter and the evolution of the relationships… simply gorgeous!!

  10. PreteenLover says:

    Beautiful sexy story.

  11. J. Mitchell says:

    All the commemnts made by your readers seem to be made by women – no problem there, just noticing. Regardless, please accept a man’s resounding praise and appreciation of your storytelling…in this fantasy, it’s aweinspiring! Although the story leaves me wonderin’ concerning the smells/aromas, the swellings/puffyness, the tenseness/softness, the glittering wetness of aroused flesh, etc., etc., what you do write causes me to eagerly and seemlessly “fill in” what I perceive as lacking. Forgive my overly worked “wordsmithery”. Bravo – Well Done – Superb!

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