The Star Card

  • Posted on April 27, 2024 at 6:14 pm

Note from JetBoy: I’m up against a momentary shortage of material for the site, though several crucial works are close to completion. That means it’s time for a story from (drum roll, please…) JetBoy’s Dead Dog files!

Years ago, when Lesbian Lolita was still going great guns, a bunch of writers took on the task of writing a story exactly 525 words long. This was one of my contributions. For our wicked purpose, I have fleshed the story out to about twice its original length. Less terse, more perverse – that was the objective. Hope you like it.

By JetBoy

I’m seated at the kitchen table in my black pantsuit, sipping coffee before leaving for the office, when my sixteen-year-old daughter Kim traipses downstairs, looking absolutely luscious in a silk teddy.

“Morning, Mom,” she drawls, bending down to kiss me. Sighing as her tongue circles my mouth, I reach around to lovingly cup my daughter’s bottom. Mmmm, no panties. Her fingers slip inside my top as we continue to kiss, idly brushing a nipple.

On the verge of losing myself in Kim’s embrace, I manage to break away. “Honey, we don’t have time for this. I’ve got to leave for work. And why aren’t you dressed?”

Kim’s grin makes me quiver inside. “Oh, I’m not going to school, Mom… and you’re staying home with me.” She places a small piece of paper on the table. “I’m playing a Star Card.”

I stare at it — a square of white paper with a gold star pasted on.

When my daughter and I became lovers a year ago, we quickly discovered a mutual enjoyment of sex games, and the Star Card was one of our favorites. To play a card means that you are the absolute mistress of the other for the entire day. What you say goes, and every order you give must be obeyed, no matter how outrageous.

Kim and I each get four Star Cards at the beginning of the year, to use as we pleased. Now, she was hitting me with one.

Pulse racing beneath my calm exterior, I place both hands in my lap and gaze up at my daughter meekly, awaiting orders.

“Good girl, Mommy,” she says with a nod.

Kim never calls me “Mom,” when we fuck – just “Mommy.” It adds a note of kinkiness to the proceedings, as if what we were already doing wasn’t twisted enough. She often expresses regret that we weren’t having sex back when she was ten or eleven… the same age she was when I began to think the feelings I had for my daughter were something more than motherly.

That’s how we first became intimate, actually. Kim was perceptive enough to recognize my hidden desire, then decided the idea appealed to her. So I came home from work one day to find her in my bed, wearing nothing but a smile. She’d just turned fourteen.

Even if I didn’t get to couple with Kim when she was still a little girl, we make up for that missed opportunity in another of our games, where Kim pretends to be the third grader she once was. Sometimes I entice her into bed, sometimes she is the seducer. Do I seem even more perverse to you if I admit how incredibly hot that game makes me?

Now my daughter stands before me, arms folded. “Take your clothes off.”

I rise and slowly undress, one piece at a time, carelessly tossing aside each item until I’m standing naked before her.

“Now call the office and tell them you can’t come in today, ’cause your daughter’s sick.” Kim giggles. “You won’t even be lying,” she adds, gently taking the tip of my left breast between two fingers, “’cause you’ve got a sick, perverted little girl who needs Mommy’s special care.” Her fingers close like a steel trap to scissor my nipple. I bite my lip hard enough to draw blood, trying not to cry out loud.

When she releases me, I take up my phone and call Helen at the office, spinning some nonsense about needing to stay home and look after Kim. She’s got an upset tummy, I tell her.

I set the phone down, and my daughter tugs me to her, kissing me roughly — fucking my passive mouth with her tongue before dismissing me with a sharp smack on the butt. “Now go upstairs, get on your bed on all fours and wait for me. I’m gonna have my way with you.”

“What’ll you do?” I meekly ask. It’s all a performance, though. In truth, I’m feeling mischievous, in a mood to toy with one of our rules.

Her eyes widen in surprise, then narrow. When we play Star Card, the bottom isn’t ever supposed to question the top’s decisions. And Kim can be a very aggressive top.

So she slaps my ass hard, and I gasp in a mix of pain and pleasure.

“None of your business, bitch!” she snaps. “How about this: whatever I fucking want to.” She brutally plunges two fingers into my already wet vagina, and I see stars. “Maybe I’ll keep spanking you, turn your ass a nice shade of red. I could put on my strap-on and fuck that snug asshole of yours… or ride your face like a saddle.” She draws closer, her tongue emerging to tease my ear. “Maybe I’ll push my whole hand into your cunt again, Mommy. How’s that sound?”

It sounded incredible. I quiver at the thought of it. Last time she’d fisted me, I was sore for days… but I’d also come five times in as many minutes.

“Got a special surprise for you this time, Mommy dearest,” Kim coos, extracting her fingers from me, then twisting my face to hers. “You know Panorama Point, right?”

I nod. It was the local teen make-out spot. Seventeen years earlier I’d been impregnated there with Kim. Of course that was before I became a lesbian, one with a helpless crush on her preteen daughter.

“Well, I’m taking you there tonight. We’re gonna park the car, climb in the back, get naked and fuck.”

My head spins. Sex with Kim… in public? Sheer insanity — but the idea has my pussy dripping.

She strips off her teddy and casts it aside to bare her body completely, a smile on her lips that positively drips with lust. “Actually, you can forget about going upstairs for now. I think it’s time to remind you who’s calling the shots today, Mommy.” Placing both hands on her hips, her smile suddenly a scowl, she hisses, “Down on your knees!”

I hasten to obey.

She towers over me like a goddess. “Kiss my cunt.”

Head spinning, I am drawn to her, enticed by the thick aroma of my daughter’s arousal. Soft pubes tickle my nostrils as I bury my lips in the raw heat of a young woman. This is no punishment, though Kim treats it as such. I am passionately in love with my demanding child, and the warm nectar of her sex is nourishment to me. I love the taste, love to feel her honey coating my mouth and chin.

“Oh, yeah,” Kim purrs, “that’s it, Mommy. God, you’re such a tramp, aren’t you? Down on the floor like a fuckin’ dog, eating your daughter’s pussy. Mmmmm, yeah, keep sucking my clit. Ohhh, yeah, j-just like that… Ahhhhhhh!”

She comes in my face, and I gulp down every drop of her essence. My daughter’s grip tightens as I drink from her, the fingernails digging into my scalp. It hurts, but I calmly accept the pain, proof of the devotion I feel for my teenage mistress.

I’m not always inclined to be submissive, mind you. But when Kim takes charge, I find it incredibly easy to drift into the role of her fuck toy, ready and willing to take whatever punishment – and pleasure – my girl chooses to dish out.

Perhaps that’s because even when Kim rides roughshod over me, her love is a tangible, living presence I can practically reach out and touch.

I’m still on my knees waiting for Kim’s instructions. Instead she gets down next to me, grinding her bare body into mine. “Well done, Mommy,” she whispers, then licks my ear. “My hot, sexy mommy lover. You just earned yourself a treat.” She cups my ass, then her hand delves lower, seeking my womanly center.

A shivery sigh escapes me as Kim’s fingers muscle their way into my vagina. She begins to work them in and out, occasionally making a wriggling motion that takes my breath away.

“Touch your clit,” she growls. “I wanna see you come like a fucking wildcat.” Somehow she manages to force herself even deeper into me.

That’s one of many things I love about my daughter. No matter how rough or cruel she is when playing a Star Card, Kim always leaves me fulfilled. Sometimes she’ll stretch my release to the breaking point, teasing me until I’m ready to scream… but I always get satisfaction in the end.

With Kim fingering my cunt and me tweaking my clitoris, there’s no way I can restrain the rising storm for long. Soon enough, I’m whimpering through an orgasm that leaves me dazed, dizzy and very content.

I feel Kim nuzzling my neck. I turn to her, and we come together in a fierce but intensely loving kiss. Our tongues engage, sparring playfully. It revives me, rekindles my lust.

When we finally part, she gives me a sweet smile and caresses my cheek, then Kim steps back into her dominant role. She rises, moves to the sofa and sits.

Fixing me with a penetrating gaze, she says, “Now go upstairs and kneel on my bed, Mommy. Maybe I’ll be up soon, maybe not. But when I do, your ass had better be up and ready for me.”

I mount the stairs, anticipating hours of forbidden pleasure — but I’m also imagining what I’ll do to shake Kim up when it’s my turn to take charge of her. I’ve got three Star Cards of my own left, after all.

The End


11 Comments on The Star Card

  1. Mystery Mouse says:

    My goodness! The power of a short, but powerful, story!

    I think the best way to describe this, and staying with the spirit of keeping things short, would be ‘delightfully kinky’. Maybe even ‘utterly, delightfully, kinky’.

    I wasn’t around during the Lesbian Lolita days. It looks like I missed a lot of fun. My thanks to you and the rest of the team for keeping the spirit alive.

  2. Kim & Sue says:

    A nice little very pleasant surprise. Well, love that game for sure. We guess ‘Nora’ is Kim or did we miss something?

    • Jacqueline Jillinghoff says:

      I was just thinking the same thing. Very arousing story, though. Concision is the best.

      • JetBoy says:

        Damn it to HELL… oh, well, it’s fixed now. When you’re working on half a dozen stories at once, you wouldn’t believe how easy it is to use names from one story in another by mistake. Of course, it might be early Alzheimer’s.

        Oh, and thanks for the praise. <3

        • Kim & Sue says:

          Now excited to see the story where this Nora pops up.

        • Sapphmore says:

          Hey JB, you could use a spreadsheet to keep track. Even though I’ve only done one story so far, I’ve got story plans for well over a hundred stories and more detailed notes on a handful I’d planned to work on next so I have a spreadsheet with girl’s names (I got from the web, including foreign first and surnames names where relevant), the story I’ve used them in, and some notes like age, profession, hair colour and relation to others.
          Then again, that’s probably why I never seem to have time to actually read stories!

          • kinkys_sis says:

            It’s kinda like ‘the chicken and the egg’, what came first – the reader or the writer?

            If there were no readers, then who would we be writing for – ourselves?

  3. BlueJean says:

    Well, if this is what happens when there’s a shortage of material, let’s hope our boy scrapes the barrel a bit more often.

    Sometimes it’s nice just to strip away all the bullshit until you’re left with a pure sex story, isn’t it? This is how to do it right – unapologetically harsh, but restrained enough not to descend into silliness. It reminded me of some of Jacqueline’s work.

    I didn’t notice Nora, but suffice to say she’s a very naughty Irish maid who obviously decided to make an unauthorised cameo…

  4. ClitLicker says:


    I don’t visit for a couple of days and I miss this! How can a person with Y chromosomes portray women and girls so brilliantly? 🤷

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