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Ripples, Chapter 45

  • Posted on December 31, 2025 at 4:58 pm

A (formerly) brief summary of what has transpired thus far. (To get a more detailed breakdown of the story, please see the Ripples Chapter Links… and for a list of the many characters who populate this saga, check out The Women and Girls of Ripples.)

Divorced mother Jessica has found a new identity as a lesbian, becoming the lover of her friend Rachel, as well as her three daughters Alice (12), Katie (9), and Poppy (7). At the same time, Rachel has found sexual intimacy with her own girls Bella (12) and Cindy (10), and they have all elected to come together as one big incestuous family.

Not long after that, Jessica’s younger sister Laura pays an unexpected visit and catches them all in the midst of their first family orgy. Despite her shock at what she saw, Laura was seduced later that night by the three youngest daughters, and eventually ends up joining in the family festivities.

Jess has an openly gay friend named Stella. She has twin daughters named Sienna and Lacey (both fourteen) who have flirted shamelessly with Jessica and her oldest daughter Alice. Alice suspects that the twins are sexually involved with their mother Stella, who she is very much attracted to herself.

As it transpires, Stella and her daughters are members of a secret society of local women who enjoy lesbian sex — especially with younger girls, including their daughters. Now that Jess has officially come out in her relationship with Rachel, Stella is looking to bring her, Rachel and both their families into the Society.

Stella lays her cards on the table: she suspects Jess and Rachel of having incestuous relations with one or more of their girls, and proposes bringing their combined families together for a sex party (though she has yet to tell Jess anything about the Society just yet). Jess is open to the idea, and tentative plans are made.

In the meantime, Jess and Laura’s mother Ann has just returned from a lengthy sea cruise. Laura informs her sister of a secret their mum told her: that she herself has recently explored lesbian sex with a much younger woman. This gets Jess thinking about the possibility of getting Ann to join in their incestuous relationship. She, Laura and Rachel discuss the idea, where they are overheard by Jessica’s seven-year-old daughter Poppy, who is intrigued by the possibility of sex with her grandmother.

When Ann arrives, Jess informs her mother that she is in a committed relationship with Rachel, and now considers herself gay. Ann is delighted for her daughter, especially since she already knows and likes Rachel. Later that night, Ann tells Jess about her night of passion with Gina, a woman in her twenties who she met online by accidentally visiting the Woman Seeking Woman page at on online dating site.

Later, when she is tucked up in bed, Ann masturbates while remembering her sexual encounter with Gina. But we soon learn that she later had a second sexual encounter with a woman, one she has yet to speak of to her daughters, with a French woman named Colette who she’d met on her ocean cruise.

Ann recalls one very special encounter with Colette. They were in bed and making love when Ann glanced up to see her partner’s eleven-year-old daughter Coralie standing in the entrance, watching them fuck. Colette didn’t notice the girl’s presence, but Ann was mesmerized — and turned on, in spite of herself.

The next day, Ann was approached by Coralie, who briefly exposed herself, then admitted that she was attracted to women, especially her own mother. Ann was shocked, but promised to keep the girl’s secret. Later, Ann brings herself to orgasm remembering that time with Colette – and Coralie.

The next morning, Ann is awakened by her granddaughter Poppy, who she will be looking after that day while Jess takes Alice and Katie to the dentist. After awhile, Ann notices the seven-year-old behaving in a very strange way. First, while reading, she notices that the child is naked beneath her skirt and surreptitiously rubbing her bare slit. Taken aback, she decides to take a bath, which is interrupted by Poppy, who insists on sharing the tub with her grandmother and soaping her breasts.

When Jess returns with the older girls, she has a stern chat with Poppy after Ann mentions having bathed with her. But when Poppy asks for a kiss, Jess can’t resist the chance to go down on her little girl.

Later that night, Jess phones her sister Laura, asking her to keep an eye on Poppy the next day. Laura will be looking after the girls while Jess and Rachel are on a one-night trip to London. The sisters end up having a very stimulating round of phone sex before turning in for the night.

The London trip is a rousing success for Rachel and Jess. During their stay in a posh hotel, they end up having a sex party with Dominique, an Asian friend of Rachel’s who runs a sex shop and loves to demonstrate the toys she sells, and Valentina, a Slovenian immigrant who works as a maid in the hotel. She delivers a bottle of champagne to the room and is subsequently enticed into her first lesbian experience.

Meanwhile, back home, Ann and her daughter Laura are having a frank late night discussion about lesbian sex. They both turn in, and a very aroused Ann is about to fondle herself to orgasm when Laura knocks. She doesn’t feel like being alone, and asks if they can share a bed. Ann agrees, but is surprised when Laura strips naked before getting beneath the blanket, claiming she always sleeps that way.

Ann awakens a few hours later. Laura is sleeping soundly, so Ann takes the opportunity to masturbate. But in spite of her efforts to avoid waking her daughter, she gets a shock when Laura takes over and begins to finger her. Ann is so overwhelmed by arousal and surprise that she allows herself to be seduced. Giving in to impulse, Ann lets Laura go down on her, then returns the favor.

Afterwards, Ann is more confused than ever, but can’t deny how good the sex was. In fact, they are on the verge of making love again when they are interrupted by a certain girl of seven. It’s Poppy, who is thrilled to bits to see her aunt and grandmother naked and in bed together. Quickly removing her nightie, the nude child asks permission to join them.

Now that Poppy has let the cat out of the bag, Laura is forced to confess everything to her mother — all the incestuous activities Jess and Rachel’s families have been indulging in for the last few months. Ann is appalled, yet fascinated, and can’t help but stay and watch as Poppy performs oral on her aunt. Then, before Ann knows it, Poppy is between her legs, licking her to a massive orgasm. Afterwards, Laura hints that Ann should pleasure her granddaughter the same way, but Ann can’t bring herself to go that far.

They settle down, the three of them… and though Ann is buffeted by all kinds of crazy, confused emotions, she somehow manages to fall asleep.

Upon awakening, Ann is confronted by the sight of her naked granddaughter, dozing beside her. Feeling a twinge of guilt for not having returned the pleasure she received from Poppy a few hours earlier, Ann impulsively decides to make love to the seven-year-old. She touches Poppy until the girl awakens, then shyly offers to go down on her. Needless to say, Poppy is all too eager to accept.

So Ann lays her granddaughter down and performs oral sex on the child. Laura wakes just in time to see Poppy come in her gran’s face. But Ann isn’t finished. She intends to make love to Laura again — this time, because she genuinely wants to. Poppy is unable to resist joining in, licking Ann from behind while her grandmother licks Laura.

By then, Ann is willing to admit that she has become part of the incestuous doings in the Matthews household. Poppy’s response is to jump out of bed and race down the hall to awaken the rest of the girls. They enter the guest room to find Ann, Laura and Poppy naked and in bed together.

Soon they all know Ann has made the decision to become part of the family doings… and when Poppy instructs the other girls to undress, a family orgy soon begins. Ann makes love to Katie and Cindy, while Laura has it off with Alice and Bella. 

Later, Jess and Rachel return from their overnight stay in London, and are flabbergasted to learn the wonderful news. Ann takes Jess upstairs, determined to make the first time with her eldest daughter a special one. They fuck, then Laura, Rachel and the girls join in to make it a family orgy. By the time it’s over, Ann has made love to everyone at least once. 

Afterward, Ann has a serious discussion with Jess, Laura and Rachel where she runs an idea past them. She wants to buy a local mansion currently up for sale and invite the entire family to live there with her. Her daughters and Rachel need time to consider Ann’s proposal, but are all inclined to say yes.

Shortly thereafter, Jess receives a phone call from her acquaintance Blanche Turner, inviting her to drop by the next day. Jess isn’t sure what it’s about — a business opportunity, perhaps? — but she accepts.

And that, dear readers, is where this installment kicks off. Read on…

 

 

by Sapphmore and  JetBoy

Jess wore a contented smile as she drove through the open countryside, on her way to Blanche Turner’s home.

Everything’s coming along nicely, now Mum’s on board with our family activities. Soon she won’t have the stress of running a business, and she can spend more time with us, especially the girls. I’d better ask them not to pester Mum for sex all the time, else her heart might give out before a week has passed. 

We’ll need to have a family meeting about Mum’s offer to move the lot of us into Cole Manor House… but Rachel’s right – the girls will be over the moon, every one of them. Maybe we can all get away for a holiday before the move. Ibiza would be nice…

Just then, the Turner estate came into view. I wonder what Blanche wants to discuss with me. It does seem like something important. 

Jess followed the high stone wall boundary of the estate, then slowed as she neared the white-painted boulders marking the entrance to Moreton House. Turning off the road, she slowed on her approach to the huge wrought iron gates, lowering the window to look up at the security camera and announce her arrival into the intercom, but the gates opened just as she reached them. Driving through, she heard them clang shut, followed by the buzz of electronic locks snapping into place.

The Jacobean mansion was enormous, even larger than the Elizabethan manor house her mother wanted to purchase. Jess took in the ivy-festooned façade, flawlessly manicured lawns and topiary as she crunched along the gravel drive, rounding the central fountain to the parking area near the separate garage block.

Cole Manor may be big, but this place is on another level.

Shutting the car door, Jess paused to look up at the house. The entrance was on the elevated ground level up a set of wide stone steps, with two more floors above, the top floor having gabled windows set within a slate-tiled roof. She recalled there were something like fifteen bedrooms and almost as many baths, countless other rooms, even a ballroom.

As she advanced towards the steps, Grace Cooper, Blanche’s personal assistant, emerged from the wisteria-framed arched oak doors. “Hello, Jessica!” she called. ‘So good to see you again.”

Jess smiled at the attractive woman standing at the top of the steps, who often put her in mind of Audrey Hepburn. She was wearing a flared summer dress, in contrast to the business attire she usually sported.

“Hello, Grace; nice to see you too. That’s a lovely dress you’re wearing.”

Grace glanced down at herself. “Thank you. I picked it up in Milan last week.”

They exchanged cheek to cheek kisses, then Grace led Jessica inside and closed the door. The centre of the cavernous entrance hall was dominated by a large, ornate oval table on which sat a huge elegant flower display. Curved stairways spanned either side of a large central opening leading to a hallway and French doors in a wall of glass through which the rear landscape was visible.

“You know, Grace; I’ve only been here a handful of times, and it’s still like walking into another world.”

Grace chuckled. “I know what you mean, and I’m here every day. Blanche is in the library.”

Leading the way, she opened a door off the entrance hall. Inside, Blanche rose from a large high-backed chair. “Jessica, thank you for coming.”

“Would you care for tea? Coffee?” Grace asked.

“Coffee is fine. Thank you.”

With a nod, Grace left the room. Jess greeted Blanche in the same manner as she had Grace, then glanced around the room. There were high shelves stacked with hundreds of books, and the walls, cabinets and tables were filled with art pieces. The effect was breathtaking.

“I must say, Blanche, you have a lovely home, and so many beautiful things to fill it.”

“Thank you. Art is one of my passions. I love exploring galleries and antique shops wherever I am, always, always searching for just the right piece.”

Blanche accompanied Jess around the room, answering her questions concerning several of the artworks before indicating two leather Chesterfield sofas separated by a huge oak coffee table; Jess sat on one while Blanche seated herself opposite.

Grace returned with a silver tray, which she carefully placed on the coffee table, then poured the coffees from a large cafetiere before taking a seat next to Blanche. Jess couldn’t resist stealing a glance at the shapely legs of the two women, a move not unnoticed by Blanche.

As they sipped their coffees, Blanche said, “So, Jessica… how is your lovely family?”

“Very good, thanks, Blanche. The girls are doing well at school, my sister recently returned from a most rewarding assignment overseas, and my mother just returned from her four-month cruise.”

“Oh, yes… I wondered why we haven’t seen Ann recently. You know, I completely forgot about her going on the cruise. Did she enjoy it?”

“She had a wonderful time. It was a life-changing experience for her, honestly.” More than you can ever imagine, she silently added

“Ann is a very impressive woman.”

Jess smiled, remembering how she’d gone down on her mum in the shower just last night. “She is that, absolutely.”

“Running the business after your father passed away must have been difficult, but Ann did a remarkable job of it. She has a formidable reputation in the business community, you know. I once saw her tear a strip off some misogynistic tosser at one of those boring Chamber of Commerce banquets, and it was the highlight of the evening. He was talking loudly about women in men’s jobs, but when Ann turned her gaze his way, I knew we were in for quite a show. Needless to say, he skulked off with his tail between his legs once she was done with him. I suspect he was completely impotent for a month afterward!”

“That sounds like Mum. Actually, she’s in the process of selling up. She wants to spend more time with the girls and now she’s talking about buying Cole Manor.”

“Good for her; that’s a very nice property. I almost bought it years ago.” Blanche put down her cup. “Tell me, Jessica… how much do you know about me and my family?”

Slightly curious as to why Blanche had asked, Jess answered, “Not much, really. I know your husband is a very successful developer, and you also own quite a lot of property around here… and, of course, you have three daughters. That’s pretty much all I know, apart from the fact you spend a lot of money in my store!”

“Would you be surprised to know that my family is one of the oldest and wealthiest in France?”

“Really? I had no idea.”

“My family name is Chatelaine de Saint-Marceaux, but I use my husband’s name here; it’s quicker to say and write, plus I don’t have to keep spelling it for everyone. Technically, my title is Comtesse, but I only use my family name and title in Europe, as it opens a lot of doors. When I’m there, the locals would be able to pick up the Monegasque in my French.”

“You’re from Monaco? There’s no trace of an accent.”

“Ah, the benefits of schooling in France and Switzerland, and of course Oxford. Several generations of my family were born in Monaco, as was I. My grandmother still lives in her old house on the outskirts of Monte Carlo, although I prefer my apartment overlooking the harbour. My mother, the Marquesse, lives in the family’s chateau near Saint Paul de Vence on the French Riviera. It’s a hill town about 40km west of Monaco. I own an art gallery and a hotel in the town and my mother runs the estates, vineyards and parfumerie, while I manage most of our other properties in Europe and England.”

“My, that’s quite a family history,” Jess murmured, still wondering why Blanche was telling her this.

Grace chimed in. “It’s a beautiful place, Jessica. The town is lovely, with a spectacular view, and the chateau and estate are huge. My daughter and I have been there several times.”

Jess was taken by surprise, having assumed Blanche’s assistant was a single career woman. “I didn’t know you had a daughter, Grace!”

“Oh, she’s a darling. Her name is Willow, and she’s eight.”

“One day soon, I hope to invite you and your daughters to visit me there,” said Blanche.

Jess was surprised at Blanche’s offer, given that she was more of an acquaintance than a close friend. “That sounds wonderful.”

“Well, I’m quite impressed by what I’ve seen of your family. To be honest, I’ve been wanting to get to know all of you a bit better.”

Jess set her cup down. “Forgive me for asking, but you mentioned a proposition when you phoned last night. When I was here last, you wanted to know if I’d been thinking of expanding my business.”

“Yes, I’ve recently acquired some premises in a couple of areas where there is a market and very select clientele for your more exclusive collections, so I’m sure I can help you in that regard.” She paused to sip her coffee. “However, I must confess that I asked you to visit because I have another proposition I’d very much like you to consider.” She paused to sip her coffee, then continued. “You know I’m the patron of a couple of charities, but I’m also the head of a society of women dedicated to the advancement of women and girls.”

“Oh, I see. Well, I don’t, not exactly. What does this society do?”

“Our objective is to help women who show promise in their chosen profession, but perhaps lack the financial resources to achieve their goals. Or perhaps they need advice, mentoring or useful contacts. In the case of young women and girls, that assistance might be a bursary, even a scholarship. For others, it’s getting them into schools, educational institutions or jobs that will ensure they have the best possible opportunity to achieve their potential.”

“That sounds marvellous, Blanche. So I guess you’re offering to help me in some way.”

“Actually, Jessica, that’s just half of it. I think you could also help us; to my mind, you are exactly the type of member we’re looking for. Before I tell you more, I’d like to show you something, and there are a couple of things I’ll need to tell you before you make a decision.”

“I… I don’t know what to say. This is all a bit of a surprise; a little overwhelming if I’m honest.”

“All will become clear soon.” Blanche stood, then Grace. “We’re going to the lodge.”

“The… lodge?”

“The house in the grounds. We call it The Lodge.”

“Oh. I thought that was a guest house, or the servants’ quarters.”

Grace responded. “According to records, it’s been used for both, but also to house elderly parents, or the owners’ children when they married.”

“Mind you, we don’t actually have servants,” said Blanche. “Not full-time live-in help, anyway. Grace lives here, as it’s more convenient.”

“Willow and I have our own rooms here upstairs.”

Blanche continued. “Grace a8nd I manage the house; some of the rooms are empty most of the time, but sometimes there are visitors. We have people in to clean and look after the grounds. A couple of our members’ older daughters look after the children when we’re out late, or away on business. Grace and I cook for us most evenings, but for dinner parties or charity events, we get caterers in.”

Grace led them into the entrance hall. “This house has retained almost all of the period features, but the kitchen is restaurant-standard.”

Rachel’s plan to get into catering for small groups popped into Jessica’s head. I should mention that to Blanche, she told herself. Crossing the hall, they went through another door leading to a narrow corridor. The door at the other end opened to the outside, emerging where Jess saw a rose-covered pergola over a path to the other house. It was clearly in a more recent style, perhaps Georgian. Grace opened the door, then Blanche and Jess followed her inside.

The interior was just as beautiful as the main house, but on a smaller scale. It’s still over twice the size of ours, Jess mused.

Blanche led Jess to a door, opened it and waved her inside. Directly ahead were three leather sofas placed around a large thick sheepskin rug in front of a large fireplace. Jess found herself wanting to step out of her heels and walk through that rug. Instead, she turned back to Blanche who indicated she sit on one of the sofas, while she and Grace sat just opposite.

Jess cast her eyes round the room. Although similar to the library in the main house, there was only one large wall cabinet of books; instead, the walls were adorned by paintings and pieces of art, with small statues in various materials such as bronze, alabaster and wood displayed in cabinets and on pedestals. As she scanned the room, something about the objects made her look more closely. All the paintings and statues seem to have one thing in common; they all depicted girls or women, most of them leaning towards the erotic.

“I see you are admiring my collection.”

“Er, yes. It looks like all of the paintings and statues follow a certain theme.”

“Yes indeed. The female form is a thing of beauty. The books are mostly erotic as well, some of them quite rare. My latest acquisition is just next to you.”

Jess turned to see a small table at the end of the sofa on which stood a bronze sculpture, maybe eighteen inches high, depicting two nude girls at the feet of an equally bare older woman. It was intensely erotic.

“It’s a… beautiful piece.”

“Actually, your daughter Alice has seen it. She was at Stella Morrison’s gallery – doing some kind of internment, I think? – when I picked it up. Alice said it looked… alive, and the girls looked as though they were seeking something from the woman. Your daughter strikes me as a very intelligent and perceptive young lady. You must be very proud of her.”

“Yes she is, and yes, I am.”

Something in her surroundings and the way Blanche spoke set off some small alarm bells in Jessica’s head, but her surprise at the décor clouded any coherent thought.

Going completely by instinct, she said, “Do the contents of this room have something to do with your proposal, Blanche?”

“Yes, in a way. I mentioned that there were a couple of things I need to tell you before you accept my invitation to join. Although some of our members are in the higher financial bracket, that isn’t a consideration. What all our members have in common, besides being successful, is… the love of other women.”

Jess was startled for a moment, thinking she’d misheard, but a quick glance around confirmed Blanche’s words.‘The love of other women,’ meant exactly that.

“Oh. You mean… you’re all lesbians?”

Blanche nodded. “Yes, we are.”

“B-but you’re married,” Jess stammered, realising how ridiculous the words were as they left her lips.

“Yes, and so are several of our members. I love my husband, but the physical side of the relationship has never really figured in our marriage… at least, since we had our children. In fact, Mr. Turner has always preferred men as his lovers. Ours is more of a business arrangement than anything, and he passes most of his time in our Miami residence.

“As for me, my attraction to women goes back a long way. I took my first female lover at the age of fifteen, and have defined myself as gay ever since.”

“I see. So I assume you know I’m also in a relationship with a woman.”

“Yes. With Rachel Thomas, I understand. I must say, you both have superlative taste.”

A sudden thought occurred to Jessica as she looked from Blanche to Grace. “So, am I right in thinking that you two are …?”

“Lovers? Yes, we are.” Blanche placed a hand on her assistant’s thigh, causing Grace’s light dress to rise ever so slightly. Jess couldn’t resist the impulse to glance down, missing the slight smile the other women exchanged.

Covering Blanche’s hand with hers, Grace said, “I was working for a local government executive, and sometimes saw Blanche at meetings.” She smiled. “The first time we met, I wanted her.”

Blanche said, “I could see Grace was efficient, as well as dazzlingly beautiful. It was also quite obvious she did the lion’s share of her superior’s work, and he didn’t appreciate her.”

“Because I wouldn’t fuck him.” said Grace. Jess was startled; she’d never heard Blanche’s assistant speak so frankly. “I finally had to tell him I was a lesbian. It didn’t stop him from dropping hints about ‘advancing my career’, though.”

Blanche chuckled. “Can you imagine? Needless to say, it was child’s play for me to steal her away. Now she practically runs my life. I couldn’t do without her, in my business… or in my bed.”

“I was a single mother when Blanche took me on,” Grace added. “I’ve never been with a man, mind you. I got Willow through artificial insemination. Still, it was something of a struggle for us. My job barely paid enough to get by. Blanche gave me and my daughter the chance for a better life. More than that, she gave us love.”

Blanche nodded. “I think of Willow as one of my own. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her.”

Jess was grappling with further questions. “So, your organisation – it’s completely made up of women who are…?”

“Lesbian, yes. Or at least bisexual with a strong preference. Some of them are sharing an intimate relationship like I am with Grace, and some enjoy sex with other women who aren’t members and know nothing of our group. And we explore pleasure together, when the opportunity comes.”

Jessica’s eyes widened. “When you say ‘together’, you really mean… all of you together? Orgies?”

“On occasion, yes. Does that shock you?”

Jess was astonished more by the candour and openness Blanche showed than the actual secrets the woman was unveiling. After all, she’d indulged in group sex at least a dozen times with her family, including earlier that same day. “I must say, when I accepted your invitation to drop by, I never imagined anything like this. So, my being a lesbian is why you’re offering me membership in this group? And Rachel is included in this invitation, I’m assuming.”

“Oh, of course. But your being gay is only part of it, Jessica. There’s also your success and reputation as a business woman. That said, there is one other qualification of a more… personal nature, but unless I was certain of your suitability for our group, rest assured that we would not be having this conversation.”

The bells rang louder in Jessica’s head, and she found herself growing increasingly nervous about what Blanche was about to say.

Taking a breath and sitting upright, Blanche’s voice took on a quieter, deeper tone. “The other thing we have in common… is that we are involved in sexual relationships with our own, and each others’ daughters.” She fell silent, waiting for her words to sink in and for Jess to respond

The blood seemed to roar in Jessica’s ears. Oh, God. Tell me this isn’t happening. “So – so let me get this straight. You’re asking me to become a member of this… organization, society, club, whatever you call it – because I’m a lesbian, but also because you think I’m…?” She couldn’t say the words.

“In a sexual relationship with your daughters, yes.”

Jess was light-headed, her heart galloping like a stallion. Don’t faint. You mustn’t faint. “You think I have sex with my girls? Who on earth told you that?”

“In answer to your first question, the fact that you hesitated and asked those questions rather than being outraged would seem to indicate what I said to be true. As for the second question, I think you already know the answer.”

True enough. There was only one person who could have broken her trust. Only one. “In that case, I suppose there’s no point in denying anything, is there? Did Stella plan this all along? And what’s the endgame?”

“I assure you, Jess, there was no premeditated plan. Our only aim is to persuade you to join us; we are not seeking to harm or expose you. She mentioned to me that you’d told her of your relationship with Rachel… but she also saw something in you and Alice, that led her to believe the two of you might be intimate, or at least had leanings in that direction, and that Alice was attracted to her. She didn’t say anything to me until later, and said the twins had been up to their tricks. It was only after she told me, that I recalled that day you picked up your girls from my daughter’s party.”

Jess looked quizzically at her, unable to recall what Blanche was referring to.

“When your daughters and Annabelle were showing off on the climbing frame – remember? My Annabelle had gone without knickers that day, and when she hung upside down… well, your reaction intrigued me. I noticed that you seemed to be aroused by the sight. I don’t blame you for feeling that way. Annabelle is a lovely child – and by the way, she tastes even better than she looks.”

Jess reddened at the memory of her reaction to Blanche’s daughter exposing herself. “So it’s really true… you’ve made love to your daughters.”

“Many times. That’s why I understood what you were feeling, because I’ve known what it’s like to feel desire at the sight of a naked little girl. But it wasn’t until after I’d had a chat with Stella that I realised the three of us might be kindred spirits.”

“So she told you about Alice having that sleepover over with the twins, and what happened with them and Stella?”

“Yes, she did… but I beg you not to be angry about that.”

“Oh, really? Because right now, I’m of a mind to throttle her.”

Grace spoke up. “Jess, I can assure you Stella had only the best of intentions for you and your family. We wouldn’t be having this conversation otherwise.”

“How did Stella come to be involved with this ‘society’?”

“I think that is a question you should ask her,” Blanche replied. “I’ve no doubt you two will be speaking very soon.”

“Oh, my God,” Jess buried her head in both hands, struggling to process this. After a moment, she looked up. “So this society… it’s a way of recruiting new members and their daughters?”

Blanche frowned but quickly softened. “Jessica, let me make this absolutely clear. We are genuinely philanthropic, and don’t try to convert anyone we help. There is no link between what our members do in private and the women and girls we help, unless they are already Society members.

“When it comes to the Society’s private activities, our member selection process is very rigorous, as I’m sure you’d appreciate, and we seldom bring in new members. Were you and your family to join – and I very much hope you will – you’d be our first initiates for quite some time.”

Nodding thoughtfully, Jess murmured, “So the women you offer financial assistance to aren’t encouraged to join the Society, not unless you know for certain that they’re practising incest with their daughters. And sons don’t come into the equation, I’m guessing.”

“Not at all,” Blanche replied. “We are an exclusively lesbian organisation, one with a particular taste for young girls. Some of our members, like Stella, are quite adept at spotting women with the right… urges.”

“I suppose Stella also told you about her little subterfuge she pulled with the twins and me, and the chat we had afterward?”

“Yes, she did. Once she was absolutely sure you were intimate with Alice, she was quick to suspect your other daughters were involved. From there, it seemed logical to believe Rachel and her girls were also in on the family secret. She is very perceptive about such things, as you’re probably now aware.

“So she dragooned Lacey and Sienna into seducing you, and… well, you know the rest. After Stella confessed she was committing incest with her daughters, then you did the same, she told me everything. The executive board of the Society had a meeting and, on my recommendation, decided our usual vetting process wasn’t necessary. It was unanimously agreed that your family be given an invitation to join, though only Stella and I know your identity. It’s meant to be a surprise for the members, you see.”

“My goodness,” said a dazed Jess. “I wasn’t sure what to expect when I came here today. Nothing like this, that’s for certain.” Looking up at Blanche and Grace, she added, “I owe you both an apology for being so hostile.”

Blanche gave a dismissive wave.“No offense taken, Jessica. I completely understand your concerns, and you have every right to be suspicious… but what we’re offering will bring benefits to you and your family, as well as the satisfaction of knowing you’re helping the next generation of strong, independent women.”

“I can attest to that, Jess.” Grace said. “I’ve never looked back since becoming part of the Society. My Willow now has a whole network of surrogate mothers, sisters and yes, lovers who are always there for her. She’s found a new confidence that wasn’t there before…. and Willow and I are closer than ever, since we became intimate.”

“About that invitation,” Jess began, “does it also apply to Rachel and her girls?”

“It does… as well as your sister Laura,” said Blanche. “We’re interested in your extended family, but our plan was to speak to you first. Rachel is also a successful woman, and membership in the Society will prove beneficial to her business as well as yours.” She smiled. “It’s a most exciting development for us, you know. We’ve never had two mothers and five daughters join at once, let alone a single woman with no children. Normally, your sister wouldn’t qualify for membership, but these are unique circumstances. Laura is part of your family and successful in her own right, so she would be most welcome.

“I know this is a lot for you to take in, so please take as long as you need to weigh this proposal. You may choose not to tell your family about this and reject this offer, or decide between you to reject it, and we will respect your decision. Given our… shared interests, you can rest assured that what we’ve discussed today will not leave this room. No one but Stella and Grace knows of this conversation. By the same token, I trust that you will not divulge our secrets.

However, I very much hope you decide to join us. You and your family would benefit enormously from the support of the Society – not just for your businesses, but in providing a safe environment to explore your desires. I’d be happy to meet you and any members of your family to answer whatever questions you might have.”

Jess sat quietly for a few moments, trying to take it all in, wondering how she was going to explain this to her family. It seemed best not to mention her mother’s recent conversion to the fold, not without discussing it with Ann first. She was certain Rachel and Laura would vote ‘aye’, and strongly suspected Alice and Poppy would give up a year’s allowance for a new group of mums and daughters to play with.

After a moment, Blanche spoke. “I imagine you still have reservations about my offer, Jessica… so I want to give you a demonstration of our good faith.” She turned to nod to Grace, who rose and left the room without a word.

Jess heard Grace take a few steps, followed by the sound of a door opening. A moment later, the woman returned, followed by three young girls. Jess recognised two of them as Blanche’s daughters, followed by another girl she didn’t recognise, but the resemblance between her and Grace was obvious.

“You’ve met my daughters Annabelle and Savannah,” said Blanche. “Annabelle is eight; Savannah is ten. Lola, my eldest, is on an end-of-term school trip, or she would also be here.”

“And this is my daughter, Willow.” Grace added, resting a hand on the little girl’s shoulder. “She just turned eight.”

“Hello, girls,” Jess said, wondering what Blanche was up to. Is she actually intending to…No. Surely not.

All three returned the greeting. The two youngest were in t-shirts and shorts, while Savannah was wearing a button-up dress. All three were barefoot.

“I think it’s time,” Blanche said, gazing at the children with a mysterious smile. “Go ahead, my darlings.”

Jessica’s heart seemed to pause in mid-beat, then began to thunder in her chest as the trio of underage girls began to remove their clothes. Willow and Annabelle slipped out of their t-shirts, carelessly letting them drop to the floor, while Savannah began to undo the buttons on her floral print dress. By the time she’d unfastened them all, the two youngest were stepping out of their shorts, revealing that they’d both gone without knickers – as had Savannah, shrugging the dress off to reveal her bare body. She had the merest hint of prepubescent breasts, while Annabelle and Willow sported flat chests with tiny pointed nipples.

Struck speechless, Jess could only gawp at the forbidden spectacle, her cunt pulsing frantically when the two sisters came together in a heated kiss. Then Savannah turned to Grace’s little girl, their mouths meeting; tongues sparring. Willow slipped behind Annabelle, bending to nuzzle her friend’s shoulder.

Jessica’s excitement doubled itself when she saw Savannah reach out to cup Annabelle’s vulva. This was no performance; these children were genuinely making love with the ease of experienced partners.

A hint of movement on the opposite sofa distracted her from the delicious sight, and Jess turned to see the two mothers kissing, each with a hand up the other’s dress. A tsunami of sexual arousal swept through her at the spectacle of another family engaging in lesbian incest, a family headed by a sophisticated, elegant woman thought of as a pillar of the community, now caught up  in a passionate embrace with her assistant while their little girls coupled just a few feet away.

Still, she was unsure how she was supposed to react to this unexpected scenario. Before she could decide on a course of action, a moan from the women caught the attention of the girls, who stopped kissing to look toward their mothers. Giggling, they broke apart, and Savannah moved to stretch out on the sofa. Annabelle positioned herself between her sister’s thighs, then dipped her mouth to the older girl’s pussy.

Willow took a moment to look down on the two girls, then bent to kiss Savannah. Their tongues engaged for a moment, then Grace’s daughter carefully knelt on the sofa over Savannah’s face, lowering her bare slit to the ten-year-old’s waiting mouth.

As the three girls began to make love in earnest, Jess rested trembling hands on her thighs, resisting a fierce urge to lift her skirt and grope the front of a very sodden pair of knickers. Glancing over to the opposite sofa, she saw the women with their hands still beneath each other’s dresses, but now they were watching their daughters instead of sharing kisses.

Blanche turned to Jess. “Isn’t that a beautiful sight?”

With the briefest of nods, Jess returned her attention to the underage trio. Mesmerised by the lovely sight; Annabelle feasting on her sister’s pussy as Willow rode Savannah’s face, she didn’t notice the women move to her sofa until Blanche and Grace seated themselves on either side.

Jess looked from one to the other as each woman placed a hand on her thigh. She was thrilled by what seemed to be an open invitation to participate in this sex party, but still felt oddly awkward, just as she had during her first time with Rachel. After all, she reminded herself, I’ve only been gay for a couple of months. 

The girls were becoming increasingly fervent in their pleasure, responding with tiny moans and squeals that soon grew louder. Jessica was so entraptured that didn’t immediately react to the hand that had moved to her blouse, caressing her concealed breasts with gossamer lightness. It wasn’t until gentle fingers moved to undo the buttons that she looked down to see Grace’s hand.

Jess looked up at the smiling young woman, then turned to Blanche, whose mouth immediately pressed into her own. She was quick to respond, her tongue emerging to explore as the kiss grew increasingly deep and sensual. Blanche’s hand was gliding up her thigh, pushing her skirt up to delve beneath. Fingernails lightly raked up her inner thigh, then a single digit traced her cleft through soaked panties.

Without warning, the hand and lips withdrew. Jess opened her eyes to see Blanche smile as she stood, touching the moist finger to the tip of her tongue. With a brief wink, the woman turned away, moving toward the girls. Blanche placed a hand on Willow’s bare back and, when the child peered up, bent to kiss her.

When Jess felt a hand slide beneath her bra, she realised her blouse was open. She looked down to see Grace push the cup away from one breast, then dip down to capture the nipple between her lips. The younger woman suckled her for a moment, then traced her tongue up Jessica’s chest to her neck, continuing along the jaw line until their mouths met in a lust-saturated kiss.

A moment later, Grace broke away and rose to stand before Jess, reaching behind to grasp the zip on her dress, then tugging it down with a single deft motion. Allowing the garment to slip down her body, revealing that she, too, had chosen to go without underwear, Grace bent to pluck the obviously expensive dress from the floor, then draped it over the back of the sofa she and Blanche had occupied.moments earlier. With fingers made clumsy by her excitement, Jess fumbled her way out of blouse and bra, leaving her topless.

In the meantime, Blanche had also divested herself of all clothing, leaving Jess the only one wearing a stitch. She was still sharing playful yet heated kisses with Willow, reaching down to touch between the spread thighs of the little girl. Blanche was using two fingers in tandem with her eldest daughter’s tongue, manipulating Willow’s clitoris as Savannah licked from below.

Grace was now kneeling before Jess, whose skirt had dropped back down somewhat, so she roughly shoved her knees apart, pushing at the skirt until it circled Jessica’s waist. With a satisfied growl, Grace grasped the older woman’s panties and gave them a sharp tug, and Jess quickly raised her bum, allowing Grace to pull them down and off.

Pressing the soaked knickers to her face, Grace breathed in the scent. “Your cunt smells lovely, Jess,” she purred. “I’ll wager it tastes every bit as nice.” Parting Jessica’s legs again, she moved between them, nuzzling her new lover’s thighs.

Glancing over to the third sofa, Jess saw Annabelle had paused in the licking of her older sister to engage in a tender but passionate snog with Blanche who, a moment later, gently positioned the little girl on her knees, then slipped a hand between her bum cheeks. From the angle Jess had, she saw Blanche’s middle finger dip into Annabelle’s pussy, slowly easing in and out a few times, then bending down to replace her finger with her tongue. While such acts occurred regularly in her own home, seeing them played out by another mother and her child was still something of a shock.

The child’s expression was almost beatific when Blanche’s tongue trailed through her slit, then through the cleft of her bum – as if she was truly partaking of the divine. Isn’t she, though? Jess asked herself.

Jess was suddenly distracted by a finger circling her clitoris, then easily sliding into the vaginal canal. She glanced down just in time to see Grace dip down to kiss her cunt, then take a long, lustful lick. Jess sank back into the sofa’s embrace, hands balled at her side as the younger woman’s expert tongue did its wicked work.

Hearing a soft cry, Jessica glanced up to see Willow mew through her climax, clutching at the sofa arm, arching her slight body as ecstasy crested and waned, finally hanging her head, spent. She clumsily dismounted Savannah’s head, pausing for a moment to catch her breath, then she bent down to take back some of her essence from Savannah’s glistening mouth and cheeks in a playful, messy kiss.

Jess fought to keep from coming right away, but Grace wasn’t exactly helping, now sliding two fingers into Jessica’s vagina while lightly nibbling her clitoris. Then Willow entered her vision, kneeling next to Grace, the little girl’s chin resting on her mum’s shoulder as she piped, “Does she taste nice, Mummy?”

Grace’s only response was a deep, satisfied purr, her mouth still fastened to Jessica’s pussy, but after a moment she turned to kiss her daughter with a mouth practically dripping with cunt honey. Jess watched in awe as mother and daughter eagerly shared her flavour. Finally breaking the kiss, both Willow and Grace began to pleasure her together. The child pressed her mouth to Jessica’s slit, while Grace licked a quick pathway down to her anus. Jess tilted her pelvis back, offering the mum-daughter pair full access to her holes.

It took less than a minute before Jess began to tremble, signalling her orgasm. Figuring there was no need to be quiet, she gave full voice to her ecstasy, her voice rising to a shriek. Once she gave her last convulsive shudder, Grace and Willow each kissed Jessica’s cheek, then adjourned to the sheepskin rug, where they arranged themselves in a sixty-nine position. It wasn’t more than a minute or so before Jess began to finger herself, fanning the embers of her lust as she watched mother and daughter make love.

Hearing Jessica’s breathy moan, Blanche looked up from her youngest daughter’s smooth slit, then patted the eight-year-old on the bum. “Annabelle, darling… I think Jessica needs some attention.”

Annabelle took one last juicy slurp of her sister’s cunt before rising from the sofa and making her way over to her mum’s friend. Savannah looked up with a small frown, but her smile returned when Blanche took Annabelle’s place, taking the girl’s slit into her mouth. “I love you, Mummy,” Savannah murmured.

Jess watched in awe as she was approached by the naked, beaming eight-year-old she’d seen expose herself on the climbing frame months ago. By then, she’d enjoyed sex many times with the little girls of her extended family, but now she would be making love to another child for the first time. Strange, how much that excites me. 

Annabelle padded over to Jess and clambered into her lap, thin legs astride Jess’ thighs. Their eyes met, and the little girl piped, “You’re very pretty, miss. Can I kiss you?”

“I’d like that,” said Jess, a deep pulse of erotic heat suffusing her body as she drew little Annabelle into a loving embrace.

Annabelle leaned in to claim the kiss she’d asked for. It wasn’t at all like a child bashfully greeting one of her mummy’s friends. No, Blanche’s youngest kissed like a hungry lover, transferring the taste of her big sister to Jessica’s tongue.

The girl’s little hands rested on her shoulders as their mouths slid together, tongues engaging. Jessica noticed right away that even after the sensual pleasures she’d explored with her own children, kissing her new lover felt intriguingly different. She moaned into Annabelle’s mouth as the eight-year-old began to fondle her bare breasts, plucking at the swollen nipples. Seized by a renewed jolt of lust, Jess allowed both hands to slide down the child’s back to cup the tender globes of her bottom.

Their kiss lasted for a long, lovely while before Blanche’s daughter sat back and licked her lips, traces of Jess’ lipstick smudged round her mouth. Beaming with satisfaction, as if she’d just sampled a yummy new flavour of ice cream, Annabelle deftly dismounted her grownup lover’s lap to kneel on the floor, nudging Jessica’s knees apart enough to make it crystal clear what she intended to kiss next.

“So pretty,” the little girl whispered, reaching out to slide the tip of her index finger through the rosy cleft of Jessica’s cunt. Then she lightly brushed the engorged clitoris, giggling at the moan she got in response. Giving Jess a bashful smile, Annabelle bent to replace her finger with her tongue.

“Ohhhhh!” Jess cried, her head lolling against the back of the sofa as the child took to her task. “Oh, my, yes. That’s… mmm, it’s wonderful!”

Blanche and Savannah both paused in their lovemaking to glance up. They took a moment to watch Annabelle go down on Jess, then their eyes met. With a nod, mother and daughter moved over to the other sofa to join in. Down on the rug, Grace and Willow were still caught up in their oral duet, oblivious to all else.

Blanche positioned herself behind Jessica, beaming down with pride at her littlest girl, marvelling at how skilled Annabelle had become at cunnilingus. The child had finally been allowed to participate in the family’s sexual games just over a year ago, then joined The Society shortly thereafter to become their youngest member. She’d taken to lesbian love enthusiastically, enough to become a favourite among the women.

Savannah seated herself next to Jess and began to masturbate, while Blanche, now standing behind the  sofa, reached down to cup and caress Jessica’s breasts, then bent to nibble at her neck before gently turning the woman’s head to steal a kiss that quickly grew heated.

When their mouths parted, Blanche wordlessly urged Jess to lie down, obliging Annabelle to stop her licking. Once Jess was on her back, Grace indicated to Savannah that she should take over her little sister’s oral duties, and the girl was quick to comply. She spread Jessica’s apart with her thumbs, then plunged her tongue into the juicy interior.

Annabelle looked a bit crestfallen at the sight of Savannah, busily licking where her mouth had been moments earlier, but she quickly perked up when Blanche said, “Why don’t you give Auntie Jess a taste of that sweet cunt of yours, my love?”

Clambering onto the sofa and straddling Jessica’s face, Annabelle knelt on either side of the woman’s head, carefully lowering her pussy to a waiting, hungry mouth.

Blanche moved from behind the sofa to perch on the padded arm facing Annabelle. She bent to remove her shoes, then raised one foot over the arm, placing it on the seat next to Jessica’s head. Glancing up, Jess  had an excellent view of Blanche’s neatly trimmed sex, barely a foot away… of course, she was already busy pleasuring the baby-smooth slit of the woman’s littlest daughter.

As Jess used her tongue to tease sweet honey from the girl, she watched as Blanche dipped a finger into her cunt, slowly spreading her secretions around the labia, then circling her clit a few times. When she withdrew her finger, a thin string of fluid clung to it like a spider’s silk.

Jess shivered with renewed arousal as Blanche proffered that finger to Annabelle, who took it into her mouth and sucked greedily, then leaned in to share a lustful kiss with Mum. The sight only spurred Jess on to use every oral trick she knew on Annabelle, determined to give the child an orgasm she would never forget.

Grace and Willow had just come into each other’s mouths. Now, mother and daughter rose from the sheepskin rug, eager to join the others in a group fuck. Willow moved to Blanche, who still had her leg hooked over the arm of the sofa. Blanche bent to kiss Grace’s little girl, then Jess saw Willow’s hand appear between the woman’s legs, two fingers tracing the cleft of Blanche’s cunt before slipping easily inside.

Grace knelt on the floor behind Savannah, who continued to feast on Jess. She reached around the girl to slip a hand between her legs, seeking and finding her still-smooth slit. Grace began to pleasure the girl, alternating between slipping a finger inside, then stroking the tiny clitoris with her thumb. Meanwhile, she used the other hand to gather lubrication from Savannah’s dripping pussy, which Grace used to ease a finger deep into the girl’s rectum. “Ohhhhh,” Savannah moaned into Jessica’s cunt as her arse was penetrated.

Jess shifted her gaze back and forth between Annabelle’s babyish sex and Willow’s efforts to please her mum’s lover, the little girl pistoning first two, then three fingers into Blanche’s sopping cunt. A moment later, she added a fourth. Willow was standing on tiptoe, her mouth engaged with Blanche’s, tongues tangling as they kissed like lovers.

Still doing her level best to please Annabelle, Jessica’s efforts were amply rewarded when the small body above hers jerked and spasmed, the child’s liquid sugar flowing into her waiting mouth. She continued to lick at the juicy cleft until Annabelle shuddered for a final time, gasped, “Oooohh, n-now it tickles!” then shifted back to sit on Jessica’s chest.

Jess glanced over at Blanche and Willow, who were no longer kissing. The child had dropped between the woman’s legs to replace her fingers with her mouth, lapping at Blanche from behind. Blanche moved her foot back to the floor, then bent over the sofa arm to offer her arse to Willow, sighing blissfully as the girl grasped her buttocks and spread them apart to lick both her holes.

As she saw Annabelle slide off Jessica’s face, Blanche bent to kiss Jess, getting a taste of her daughter’s climax. But she wrenched her mouth away a few seconds later, moaning and panting as Willow teased her to orgasm.

Meanwhile, Jess was experiencing the approach of her own release, with Savannah focused on sucking her clit. “Oh, God,” she moaned, bracing herself. That got the attention of Annabelle, who carefully dismounted Jess to kneel beside Savannah, then leaned in to kiss and suck at Jessica’s half-exposed breasts.

That set Jess off. It was a real knee-trembler of an orgasm, causing her arse to squeak on the leather sofa as she writhed and squirmed, her mind emptied of everything but purest pleasure. Finally she lay spent, limp as a sodden bootlace. Raising her face from the woman’s pussy and sitting up, Savannah reached for the first person she saw – her mum’s assistant and lover Grace – and kissed her deeply, eager to share Jessica’s cunt honey with another.

After a moment’s rest, Jess struggled into a sitting position, too spent to even pull her blouse together. She felt done in, as though she’d been dragged through a hedge backwards, her clothes half on and half scattered hither and yon.

Lord knows she’d had intense, strenuous sexual workouts with her family, not forgetting the wild night spent in London with Rachel, but though this little soiree had lasted barely half an hour, the surprising and unexpected nature of the whole thing had a genuine effect on her. A whole group of local women exploring lesbian incest with their children? Fuck, it took me bloody weeks just to get used to the idea of being gay!

Looking over at Blanche, she saw the older woman slumped over the sofa arm as Willow stood up from behind, blissfully licking her lips. Jess still found herself unable to reconcile the rude image of Blanche with the society matron she’d known for so long.

It’s funny. I can’t say I ever felt desire for Blanche beforenow I’m thinking how lovely it would be to use Rachel’s strappy on her – the ten-inch one. Bend her over that oak coffee table and shag her until she begs for mercy. 

Grace was sitting on the rug with Blanche’s daughters cuddled against her, all smiling at Jess. Willow joined them; passing on Blanche’s essence to her mum in a sloppy kiss before settling into Savannah’s open arms.

As for Blanche, she slowly straightened, gave her head an impetuous toss and moved to perch next to Jess on the sofa. Though stark naked and flushed, she was every inch her sophisticated, elegant self, not at all like a woman who’d just taken part in a lesbian orgy.

“Sorry for springing this on you so abruptly, Jess, but we wanted to show just how serious we are about you and your family becoming part of The Society. As I said before, we seldom invite new members, but if you join, your family will have access to a local network of like-minded women dedicated to supporting the business and life goals of you and your daughters. At the same time, we’re equally dedicated to satisfying your every sexual need… other than those involving men, that is.”

Now with her breathing and heart rate back to something approaching normal, Jess spoke. “I thought my family were the only ones, at least in this area, who – who shared love the same way you and yours do. Christ, it never occurred to me that others might be the same… especially people I know. Before I found out about Stella and the twins, I thought the odds of finding another family like ours was in the millions. Now I learn that there’s a whole group of families living with the same secret…” She shook her head. “Fuck me, I can hardly wrap my mind around it!”

Blanche nodded. “I only ask that you think about our offer. As I said, I can meet with your family, including the children if you like. I’ll answer any questions you might have.” With a smile, she added, “By the way… I’m prepared to give a personal demonstration of how eager we are to share pleasure with you and your girls, Jessica. You, Rachel, your sister, your daughters… I’ll strip off right there in your home and fuck any or all of them. You can make me your slut for my entire visit. That’s how serious this offer is.”

Her eyes widening, Jess whispered, “M-my goodness.” She paused, rubbed her chin. “Then I suppose I… we have a decision to make.” She looked down at her partial nudity, then around the room, noting which of the scattered clothes belonged to her. “But right now, I need to get myself tidied up.”

“Of course. Grace, would you help Jessica, please?”

Jess spied her discarded panties, but before she could make a move in that direction, Annabelle picked them up from the floor. The child paused to press the soiled knickers to her face, breathing in their scent  before handing them to Jess. Gathering the rest of her things, Jessica slipped into the panties before fastening her skirt and buttoning her blouse.

Grace made no move to get dressed herself. “I’ll show you to a bathroom,” she murmured. Looking around, she bent to pick up Jessica’s bag, handing it to her as they approached the door.

“Thank you, Grace.” As she followed Blanche’s assistant out, the girls began to get dressed themselves.

Grace led the way upstairs as Jess followed, gazing appreciatively at the younger woman’s nudity until they came to a large white-tiled bathroom with a shower large enough to accommodate at least four. While Jess washed her face in one of the double basins and applied a touch of fresh makeup, Grace excused herself to change into fresh clothing.

Putting her lipstick away, Jess studied herself in the mirror. Her mussed hair reminded her of that last morning of her old life, when she’d risen and stared at her reflection in the fogged up mirror, pondering how her life would pan out after her husband’s departure. That evening, Rachel had taken the first steps toward showing her a new, better life as a lesbian. Not long afterward, Jessica’s journey sent her on an unexpected detour, one that ultimately resulted in taking her daughters, sister and mother as lovers.

Now she’d been handed an invitation to follow another path that might bring Jess and her expanded family a whole new means of sexual fulfilment. At the same time, it was a huge step into the unknown, at a time when she, Rachel, Laura and Ann had achieved a genuine sense of security in their lives – along with the girls, who had never been happier.

If we join The Society, will our family still have that feeling of stability… or will it leave us exposed? Can we still have our privacy when the need arises? She finally shrugged. There’s time to work out the pros and cons, at least. 

Giving her hair a touch-up with a beautiful tortoiseshell brush, Jess exited the bathroom. Grace was waiting for her in the hallway. She was now clothed in a simple shift dress, though it was clear to see she wasn’t wearing a stitch underneath.

By the time they returned to the main room, the girls were dressed and lined up on the sofa, but as Jess looked around the room for Blanche, she entered the room behind them, also in a different dress. The three women took their original seats.

Seeing Jess was unsure of what to say, Blanche spoke first. “I hope you enjoyed your visit, Jessica. I know Grace and I did. Now, I believe our daughters have something they want to say to you.” She was about to address the girls, but interrupted herself to tell Jess, “I did not put them up to this, by the way.” Turning to the trio of children, she said, “The floor is yours, girls.”

As forthright as Jessica’s own youngest, Annabelle said, “Thank you for letting us make love to you, Ms Matthews. We really hope you join The Society, so we can do those things with the rest of your family.”

“It was lovely,” Willow agreed.

“And your pussy is scrumptious!” Savannah exclaimed, her cheeks flushed in a most adorable way.

Beaming at the three children, Jess said. “Thank you, girls. You made me feel wonderful. Perhaps we will do this again. I certainly hope so!”  She turned to Blanche and Grace. “I’ll discuss this with my family, and let you know our answer soon as possible. For my part, though, I’m keen to accept.”

“Thank you, Jessica,” said a delighted Blanche. “You won’t regret joining our group. It’s transformed our lives for the better in every way.”

“It’s true,” Grace added, taking Blanche’s hand. “It’s the best decision I’ve ever made, for me and Willow.”

With a nod, Jess rose from her seat. “I’ll be in touch.” Winking at the girls, she turned to leave. Grace stepped ahead to open the door, and Jess followed her out. Blanche was just behind, with the girls bringing up the rear

“Thank you for coming, Jessica,” Grace said. “I look forward to hearing from you.”

Exiting the Lodge, they followed the path to the main house, continuing on to where Jess was parked. Blanche, then Grace embraced Jess, exchanging brief but tender kisses..

“Goodbye, Blanche… Grace,” Jess murmured. “Thank you… for everything.”

Blanche took her hand; gave it a squeeze. “Goodbye, Jessica. Drive carefully.”

Jess climbed into her car and switched on the ignition. As she drove towards the gate, she waved. The girls were waving back, little Annabelle bouncing in place. And before Jess centred her attention on the road, she saw Blanche giving Grace a passionate kiss.

When she reached the gates, they opened automatically, and Jess took to the road, homeward bound. At the first lay-by, she pulled in and parked with the engine running. Taking out her phone, she dialled  up Rachel.

“Rach, I’ve just left Blanche’s house. I’m on my way home.”

“How did it go? Did she find you a new shop?”

“She does have some properties in prime locations, but she had another, very interesting proposal, one that affects our families. Can you come by after dinner?”

“Hmmm. Now, you’ve got me intrigued. I’m guessing it’s something good?”

“It could be monumental, but I can’t discuss it now. See you later. Love you!”

“Love you too,” Rachel replied.

Breaking the connection, Jess sat quietly for a few moments. Her fingers drummed on the steering wheel as she pondered this new development. Finally, she shifted into drive and merged into traffic.

She smiled to herself, already imagining her family’s stunned response to the news.

Coming at some later time to be determined: Chapter 46!

Damn it All, Anyhow (Updated)

  • Posted on December 29, 2025 at 4:27 pm

 

by JetBoy

There’s been an unfortunate development to mark the new year at Juicy Secrets: our ratings meter has been shut down, and all the ratings numbers have vanished with it.

This sorry saga began when Amanda noticed the site was taking a long, long time to function. Delving into the wheels and gears, it was quickly established that the ratings widget was our culprit. The plugin’s site wasn’t responding, which meant that our site was contacting theirs until it timed out, hence the delay.

Upon visiting the plugin’s home page, this message was found: “This plugin has been closed as of December 25, 2025 and is not available for download. This closure is permanent.” And since all the ratings were stored on their servers, their demise means we’re unable to access that data.

What can I say? In order to function, Juicy Secrets has to rely on outside sources to present our efforts to you, our public. Inevitably, problems will occasionally arise with the services we get from some of those outsiders. Those of you who have been with us from the start will recall how we’ve been booted off two different platforms for our content (one of whom literally changed their own rules to justify it). In this case, we can’t even say why it happened. I suppose the plugin wasn’t making enough cold, hard cash for whoever owned it.

Anyhow, the damage is done. My regrets to all you authors, past and present, who put a great value on your ratings. We are seeking out a replacement plugin, and hope to have it installed and working within the next couple of weeks. You’ll be kept up to date.

UPDATE: Most of you have no doubt noticed that we have a shiny new plugin to replace the old. A strong advantage of this new one is that we have a personal copy of the data entered, so the ratings won’t get lost again. There’s still a breakdown of the votes themselves, too… just hover over the three vertical lines to the right of the line of hearts.

There’s another new development you may have noticed. We added a meter at the top of every post to show how many visits each one has had. In the process, we made a startling discovery that’s good in a way; bad in another. First the good: turns out that we’re getting a lot more visitors than we thought. I was stunned to see that the latest installment of “Ripples,” a 45-chapter-and-counting saga that’s been in progress for over seven years — hardly the place to take a casual look, right? — has been checked out over eight hundred times in the last couple of weeks. And 185 visitors went back to visit Chapter One! Can’t claim to have seen that coming!

The bad news: we knew only a bare minority of those visitors were leaving ratings or (especially) comments, but did not know how few there really were. Crunching the numbers, it seems about 2.5% of people leave ratings, and not even half a percent actually comment. Sad. Granted, not every view necessarily comes from a different person, so those percentages could be slightly higher, but still. Which makes those who do share their thoughts and opinions part of something truly special, hint hint.

Speaking of which, our having lost all the old rating numbers makes it important for you, the hoi polloi of Juicy Secrets, to leave ratings for older stories that you have feelings or opinions about, whether pro or con. Please endeavor to make a point of clicking on one of those five heart emojis whenever you read anything here. Let’s get those numbers cooking again!

Yrs, JetBoy

Our Secret Place

  • Posted on December 27, 2025 at 4:01 pm

Note from JetBoy: Please join me in welcoming our latest author to the Juicy Secrets pack. I offer E.M. a hearty welcome — along with an apology. You see, the author sent us this story over a year ago, and I eagerly accepted it — then promptly misplaced the story and forgot about its very existence. Imagine my horror when stumbling upon it much, much later! Luckily, the author accepted my mea culpa instead of mailing me a box of scorpions. So I’m still breathing, and here is E.M.’s debut story. Please enjoy.

 

by E.M. Parsons

 

There’s a wonderful lesbian eroticism to women’s and girls’ soccer. I remember attending a game where I saw a hot soccer mom stand behind her pretty daughter, slip her hands inside the collar, and lovingly massage the girl’s neck and shoulders. The adoring look that passed between them, each staring into the eyes of the person they love most in the world, was truly beautiful. This story is inspired by moments like that. I also use names that I like the sound of. Both elements help with the creation of a story, but the events depicted here never happened and the characters are not based on real people. It is a work of complete fantasy.

***

I’ll steal a famous opening line from a novel and say the past is a foreign country, because it’s literally true for me. The line jumped into my mind one April morning as our plane came in to land over Sydney Harbour.

My only child Kaitlyn was beside me. It was just the two of us, her dad having recently passed away after a long battle with cancer. The large insurance payout gave us the means to live independently, so I gave up my job as an English teacher and returned to the city of my birth for a new beginning. I was sad, but also glad to be back home.

“I hope they play soccer here,” Kaitlyn said.

“Your first view of Sydney Harbour, and that’s all you can say?” I asked. “By the way, here it’s football, not soccer.”

“Oh, yeah, I gotta get used to that. Well, do they? Play football, I mean?”

“You know they do. Didn’t the Aussie Matildas play at the World Cup?”

“Yeah, they did.”

“We’ll find a local team for you. After you’ve settled into your new school.”

“Good idea, Mom,” Kaitlyn said. “US women’s soccer – football, damn it! – it’s the best in the world. Any Aussie team would jump at the chance to have me play with them.” She looked out the window and back to me, smiled, and flopped her wrists in front of her chest and bounced on the seat. “Jump like kangaroos, boing, boing.”

“Such a comedian,” I said, and laughed.

***

Turns out the little squirt was right. I spoke to a couple of moms at school pickup and they said their daughters were in a local under-thirteen team and the new season would start soon. The squad was already picked, but one extra place had come available as a girl had broken her leg.

I took Kaitlyn to pre-season training, and after a speedy run with the ball down the wing with her red hair flowing behind, the coach turned to me and nodded. She was in. Could we make the game on Sunday morning? No worries, mate.

Actually, I’d lost my Australian accent a number of years ago. Now it now sounded kinda midwestern American, don’cha know? Coupled with my long blonde hair, I was pure Yank soccer mom to these Australian parents. Everyone looked my way when I shouted encouragement to Kaitlyn on the field, especially the dads.

Kaitlyn and I were walking back to the car at the end of the first game of the season when one of them spoke to me.

“You daughter, she did well today,” he said. He threw his hand out. “Reallyfast.” That’s how he said it, the words stuck together in some kind of European accent.

“Thanks. And your daughter has a great throw.” Earlier, I’d admired his daughter from behind, when the ball went out of play and she launched a powerful throw-in towards the opposing goal. “Her name is Elodie, right?”

“Yes. She and Kaitlyn on the same team is a good thing.”

No doubt he was using the fact that our girls were the two best players in the team as an angle to get more familiar with me. I didn’t want him to get the wrong idea, but I liked the idea of Kaitlyn having friends like Elodie.

“Well, see you next game?” he said.

“Sure.”

***

The following week it was an away game near the water’s edge with a view over the harbour. It was going to be a warm day and I wore khaki shorts and a t-shirt with a thin white sweater. I loved how that sweater accentuated the curve of my back and the upward tilt of my breasts. I’d put my hair in a high ponytail to show off my tanned neck, and I’d applied just a hint of that Dior perfume I love. Despite our recent bereavement, it was hard not to be happy on a morning with such a view over the harbour. I felt good. And for the first time in ages, sexy.

Elodie’s dad came over and stood next to me on the sideline. Of course he did.

“Oh, hi again,” he said.

“Hi.”

“I’m Michel, by the way.”

I nodded towards him. “Jen.”

The ball went out of play beside us. His daughter was nearest the sideline and he ran to retrieve the ball and hand it to her. “There you go, ma chérie, long throw.”

The pretty girl looked at him, then at me, and smiled. My brain immediately went into story mode. There’s just her and Dad. His wife died tragically young. Cancer too, probably. They’ve been through terrible grief but they are strong, and now he feels ready for another relationship. It’s what his late wife would have wanted. But it’s hard being a single parent. His best chance of future happiness is to find an attractive parent in a similar situation. He hasn’t seen anyone who might be Kaitlyn’s father, so this American lady and her daughter are probably a single-parent family too. It’s an opportunity – a new wife for him; a new mom and sister for her. Perfect.

The shouts to the girl from her team mates brought me back to reality.

“Elodie! Elodie! El-oo-dee!”

Elodie threw the ball to Kaitlyn, who chipped it over the defence, sprinted ahead and took possession again. She side-stepped the goalkeeper and blasted the ball into the top of the net. The team and supporters screamed with joy as Elodie and Kaitlyn embraced.

They won easily in the end, and once again Michel took the opportunity to chat as we walked back towards our cars. Elodie and Kaitlyn went ahead.

“You enjoying the Aussie autumn weather, Jen?” Michel asked. “Or should I say fall?”

“It’s okay, I understand. I grew up here. And yes, I am enjoying it. Looks like we’ll get to use the pool for a little longer.” We walked on and I nodded towards him and his daughter. “So you’re French?”

“Yes. Elodie’s mother and I ‘ave been here fifteen years now.”

Hmm. So much for my vivid imagination. My new acquaintance clearly wasn’t in the market for a new mommy for his daughter. Just as well – I wasn’t looking for a boyfriend. “Ah, and such a pretty name for a pretty girl,” I said.

He smiled. “Thank you. We wish we had a pool. We once did, but I lost my job and we had to sell our house, so we’re in an apartment now. Elodie wants a house again, but I’ve told her it will have to wait until I have a job.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

Kaitlyn and Elodie were waiting for us to catch up. “Can Elodie come over for a play date this week?” Kaitlyn asked. “She doesn’t have a pool.”

“Well, how about Friday afternoon after school? As long as it’s okay with her dad?” I said.

“Sure,” he said, then gave me a wry smile. “I promise you, we did not set that up.”

I turned to my daughter. “Okay, Friday afternoon it is. Elodie’s dad and I will swap phone numbers. And Elodie, I guess you should bring your swimming costume. The forecast is that this good weather is going to last.”

“That sounds great. Thank you,” Michel said.

“Thanks, Kaitlyn’s mum,” a beaming Elodie said.

“No problem,” I said, slightly taken aback by the way Elodie looked at me just then. She was a real cutie, ever so slightly olive-skinned, green-eyed and gorgeously French with an Australian accent. Oh my God.

We got to our car first, put Kaitlyn’s gear in the back and said goodbye. As we drove towards the exit, I waved as we passed Michel and Elodie as they got into a little car that had seen better days.

“They seem nice,” I said.

“They do. I hope me and Elodie get to be friends,” Kaitlyn said.

“It would be good for you to have a friend who doesn’t go to the same school,” I said.

Glancing in the rear-view mirror, I noticed Michel and Elodie chatting as they watched us drive away. Were they having a similar conversation?

***

Unable to concentrate on my book, I shifted about on the lounger, trying to get comfortable. I’d left my reading glasses upstairs in the bedroom and that didn’t help, but it was the sight of Kaitlyn and Elodie playing in the pool that had really distracted me.

I’d been hit pretty hard by post-natal depression shortly after Kaitlyn was born, so the desire for a second child just hadn’t been there. I figured there was plenty of time to give her a sibling, but then her dad got sick and, well, that was the end of that. Life doesn’t always give us what we want, and Kaitlyn remained an only child.

Kaitlyn peeked around the door. “Hey, Mom!” she shouted. “What’s up with the downstairs bathroom? Can Elodie use it?”

“No, honey,” I replied. “The plumber needs to come back to fix it next week. She can use the upstairs bathroom. And I’m going to cut up some fruit. Do you guys want some?”

“Okay. And yeah, thanks, Mom.”

In the kitchen I grabbed a cantaloupe, or rockmelon as they call them in Australia, some strawberries and apples, and sliced them on a chopping board. I picked up the board, then immediately placed it back on the bench top when I remembered my reading glasses were upstairs and I should fetch them first.

I was just entering my bedroom as Elodie emerged from the bathroom. “Oh,” she said, and blushed.

“Hi, honey,” I said.

“Um… Kaitlyn said it was okay to use your bathroom.”

“I think she meant the bathroom over there,” I said, nodding at the door across the hallway. “But the one in my bedroom is fine, too. By the way, I cut up some fruit for you girls. It’s on a platter in the kitchen. Get Kaitlyn to help you carry it outside.”

She reddened with embarrassment as she rushed past me and out of the room.

When I picked up my glasses from the bedside table, I noticed something odd: my clothes were still on the bed, but not how I’d left them when I undressed. I always fold my panties and bra and place them on top of my other clothes. Just a little obsessive-compulsive habit of mine. But I could see the bra on the bed, and my panties were no longer folded. Had Elodie picked them up?

I walked to the window and angled the shutters in such a way that I could see down to the pool, but no one below could see me. Kaitlyn and Elodie had taken the fruit platter and placed it on a table on the patio next to the pool. I watched them pick pieces of fruit and eat. Mostly, I watched Elodie. Had that little minx played with my underwear when she was in the room? My heart throbbed with the possibility that she’d done exactly that. Did she pick up my bra, press it to her face and imagine she was sucking my tits? Had she covered her nose and mouth with my knickers to breathe in my scent?

“Oh, God!” I moaned, shoving a hand between my legs. Why the fuck did I think it would be any different back in Australia? Changing countries wouldn’t make my perverted thoughts disappear.

It wasn’t just Kaitlyn’s friends back in the States who affected me this way. Like Sarah and Grace, or darling Kate, who fell in love with me. No, it would happen with pretty young things anywhere, especially those who liked me a lot. I related easily to little girls, and often ended up being an older friend to them. It’s the kind of thing a normal adult would think of as a part of growing up. And I would play along, like I did when Kate’s mom mentioned that her daughter had a huge crush on me. I remember I put a hand to my mouth and said, “Oh, bless her heart, that’s so cute!”

What Kate’s mom didn’t know was how I’d rushed home afterwards, dashed up to my bedroom, locked the door and gave myself a screaming orgasm, thinking of that gorgeous dark-haired girl and her pale little bottom peeking out of her denim shorts. Some nights I’d cry myself to sleep with shame and longing, squeezing a pillow while fantasizing of Kate or some girl like her, naked and in my arms. And oh, the hypocrisy – never once have I thought about my own daughter that way, and I’d kill anyone who did. But I couldn’t help myself when it came to other people’s pretty girls.

I walked over to the bedroom door and locked it. There was no chance anyone was going to get in to interrupt. I could see the girls below, but that click was my way of allowing my dirty thoughts to come out into the open. No limits.

Moving back to the window, I slipped my bikini bottoms off while looking down at Elodie. Then the top. I brought my hands up to my tits and weighed them. “Is this what you wanted, my darling?” I whispered down to Elodie. “Did you pick my bra up sweetie? Did you put it to your nose and imagine your mouth on my nipples? Did you imagine sucking them, gorgeous girl?”

“Ohhhhhh!” I toyed with my clit while watching her. SO fucking cute in that small black bikini. The tiny bumps of her nipples at the front, and oh God, that sweet little butt. How good would it be to undress her? My tongue would explore all over her sweet little body. She would taste divine, I just knew it.

My excitement rose as I watched Elodie take a bite of cantaloupe, and I thought of eating fruit off her body. Oh God, from inside her! I would put a strawberry inside that sweet, creamy slit and suck it out.

I dropped to my knees, still able to see over the window frame and through the slats. I had a good view of Elodie’s bottom, and I quivered with excitement when an especially obscene thought entered my mind. I would take a delicious thick finger of semi-hard cantaloupe and push it into her gorgeous bum until there was only a little piece sticking out. Then I’d lie on my back and get the little darling to squat over my face and release it into my mouth.

“Uhhhhhhhhhhh!” My fingers were a blur on my clit as I lay back in the position I wanted to be in my fantasy, under her, quivering on the carpet. I would reach up and grab her hips after she’d pushed the melon out, pull her down to cover her rosebud with my mouth. I would push my tongue inside and suck the sweet juice out.

Pushing a finger into my own anus, I went over the edge with this deliciously filthy thought. I screamed and squirted all over the wall underneath the blinds, shaking like a leaf, moaning, whispering, “Oh yes, oh yes,” over and over.

Yes, I told myself, thrilled to have let myself go, embraced my deepest desire and celebrated it.

What amazed me was how I managed to act completely normal afterwards, even when Elodie’s dad came around later to pick her up and it was time to say goodbye.

“So, we will see you at the weekend on Gala Day, Jen?” Michel asked me.

“What’s that?” I replied.

“It is where all the club’s teams ‘ave a mini-tournament in one day. The players are, how you say, random picked into teams. Each team plays four games – fifteen minutes each half and a fifteen-minute break in between.”

I gave a thoughtful nod. “It sounds like fun. What do you think, Kaitlyn?”

“I want to do it,” Kaitlyn said.

“It is fun,” Elodie said. “I hope you both come.”

“Oh, we will,” I said.

***

On Gala Day I stood on the sideline and watched Kaitlyn walk up to me, looking glum.

“Elodie’s not on my team,” she said.

“Oh, not to worry, dear. When is your first game?”

“In five minutes.”

Michel and Elodie walked towards us.

“I will be referee in Kaitlyn’s game,” Michel said.

“They get the parents to help out too?”

“Yes. But our girls are not on the same team. Unfortunately.”

“I heard,” I said.

“Elodie will ‘ave to wait,” Michel said. “Her team’s first game is after this one.” He pointed to the playing field.

Elodie glanced at me, also looking a little sad, and walked away.

Five minutes into Kaitlyn’s game, I remembered I hadn’t had coffee yet. I’d parked the car next to a toilet block at the edge of the playing fields with a café nearby. I’d have time to go grab a cappuccino and still catch the second half.

As I walked past the toilet block, I noticed a single-roomed unisex disabled toilet on the side – the male and female facilities were at the back. The door was partly open, and there was a sink and mirror inside. It was an opportunity I decided to go for. The slim pretty blonde teen with the glasses might be working at the café today. I’d want to look my best if she was there.

After a quick check of my makeup, hair and lip gloss, I turned to leave, then started. Elodie was there, standing in the doorway. She looked so fucking gorgeous in her shorts and jersey and her hair tied back in a tight ponytail.

“Oh, hi, Elodie,” I said.

“Hi,” she replied.

“All yours. I only came in to wash my hands.”

A blush spread across Elodie’s beautiful face. “No, I’ve just been.” She tilted her head in the direction of the women’s toilets.

“Oh, okay.”

As I moved past her towards the door, I noticed she kept her head down, as if unable to meet my gaze. Something was up with her. “Are you all right, Elodie?”

She looked at me, nodded and bowed her head again.

“You don’t look all right. Are you sure everything’s okay?” I was trying to act the role of a responsible adult, but now I could sense what was going on, and it made me tremble inside.

I’d better explain. At the age of twelve, I’d fallen in love with my mom’s friend Rachel. She was so beautiful and Jewish, dark-haired and sophisticated. I loved my mom, but ached to be Rachel’s little girl, her only child who she pampered and adored. She would be my special mommy who would undress me and bathe me and cuddle me naked in her bed and love me all night. At nighttime I would fondle myself while caught up in sexual fantasies of Rachel. Then afterward, I’d sob with longing for her.

Now, years later, I had a strong suspicion that I was Elodie’s Rachel; that she was in love with me.

It’s hard for me to admit this, but my first thought was that I’d just stumbled onto a golden opportunity,  one I’d be a fool to pass up. If I walked away now, how many nights would I spend cursing myself, reduced to masturbating furiously, fantasizing of what might have been?

It wasn’t all about my selfish desires, mind you. Right then and there I had the power to make both our dreams come true.

There was an OUT OF ORDER sign in the corner. Picking it up, I eased past Elodie and placed it outside. I had a quick look to make sure no one was around, then closed the door from the inside and locked it.

I took Elodie’s hand. “Let’s have a chat, honey. No one will bother us here.”

I felt her shiver as I led her towards the sink and mirror. She was tall for her age, so she only had to look up a little when we stood and faced each other. I lifted her chin so we could stare into each other’s eyes.

“Would you like a hug?” I asked.

Elodie nodded. I embraced her, nuzzling her hair just above the ear. She clung to me and moaned.

“Feels nice, doesn’t it?”

“Y-yes.”

“Good girl.”

I stroked her cheek with the backs of my fingers, then briefly touched my lips to Elodie’s forehead. Her beautiful round face was flushed with excitement. Unable to resist a sudden impulse, I bent down to kiss her on the lips.

Elodie sighed, and I caught the sweet scent of her breath as I teased my tongue into her hot little mouth. It was a brief but extremely potent kiss.

“You are so beautiful,” I said.

“I – I love you,” Elodie said.

I held on to her slim waist to stop her from swooning. “My darling girl,” I said. “You know something? I’m falling in love with you too.”

I hugged Elodie again. This time I felt her lips press into my ear. “You smell so good,” she whispered.

“It’s my favourite perfume,” I said. “It’s very expensive and I don’t wear it every day, but I will for you, my love. Every time I know I’m going to see you, I’ll wear it.”

I kissed the top of her head and rocked her gently as we hugged. Then I eased back and looked at her beautiful face again. My kiss lingered on her soft pink lips and I kept an affectionate hand on her waist. She looked down to the exposed cleavage above my low-cut sweater.

“Would you like to see them?” I asked.

She nodded.

I lifted the sweater over my head, pausing to hang it on the door of one of the toilet stalls, then reached back to unhook my bra. Elodie gasped when I eased it off to expose my full, creamy tits.

“You can touch them. Even kiss them, if you like.”

Elodie raised both hands to touch my right breast, her eyes wide in awe. She looked so utterly adorable at that moment as she bent to take my nipple into her mouth. I could tell she was unsure what to do next, so she just did what came naturally and sucked on it.

I gazed down at her as she mouthed the stiffening tip of my breast, her eyes half-closed. Had she dreamt of doing this to me? Could she be reliving the experience of nursing from her mother?

“Oh, my darling, I wish I had milk for you,” I whispered. She didn’t reply, just gave a contented hum.

I reached down to withdraw the long nipple from between Elodie’s lips. It came away stiff, erect and trailing saliva. “Now the other one,” I told her, then fed her my left breast.

I arched my back and moaned, feeling a mini-orgasmic shiver as the eager, wet tugging continued. I had an utterly disgraceful thought of having another baby and giving it up for adoption, just so I could feed this darling girl my milk instead.

She was about to make me come just from sucking my nipples. I didn’t want that to happen yet, so I eased her mouth away and reached up to toy with her earlobe. Elodie shivered and pressed her face against my hand.

“There’s something of yours I’d like to see,” I said. “It’s a little naughty.”

She peered up at me, wide-eyed. “What is it?”

“You have the cutest bottom. Could you show it to me?”

Elodie smiled. “Sure.”

She turned her back to me, put both hands on her waist and slowly, tantalisingly eased her shorts and panties down. She bent forward to remove them from over her football boots, then blushed as she looked back at me.

My heart thumped and I felt a weakness in my legs. “Good girl,” I said. I reached out to stroke an adorable little butt cheek as Elodie placed both hands on the sink and looked back over her shoulder at me, bending slightly as if putting herself on display. The jersey, boots and socks were still on, but her sweet little bum was fully exposed for my admiration. It was so fucking erotic.

I moved forward and embraced her from behind. “Honey, I have a blanket in the car. If I bring it back here and spread it out on the floor, will you lie down with me? I’d love to cuddle you.”

“Okay,” she whispered, turning to face me, a shy hand covering her sex.

“Stand by the door and keep it locked until I get back. I’ll knock three times.”

I snatched up my sweater and wriggled back into it, then opened the door, dashed outside and around the corner to the car. Unlocking it with trembling hands, I grabbed the blanket and raced back to the toilet with my heart thumping, tits jiggling loose. It was fucking nuts, letting myself get caught up in something like this, but I couldn’t stop now.

Three small knocks. “It’s me, honey.”

Elodie opened the door. I darted inside, slammed the door and locked it again. She leaned back against the sink, still self-consciously concealing her pussy with one hand.

I spread the blanket on the ground, then took her in my arms. She clung to me.

“Kaitlyn’s game will go on for a while, so she and your dad won’t be looking for us any time soon,” I said. “How about we take all our clothes off? Would you like that? Getting naked with me?”

Elodie stared at me with love. “I think I would,” she said, a slight quaver in her voice.

My sweater was off again in an instant, and I kicked off my shoes and eased my jeans and underwear down. I reached forward to touch the hem of Elodie’s jersey and she lifted her arms. She blushed when I helped her remove her adorable little sports bra. “I haven’t really got boobies,” she said, frowning at her flat chest.

“Don’t be embarrassed, honey, you’re gorgeous. And you can leave your boots on.” It would be too inconvenient to take them off anyway, given the limited time we had. I got so excited when she showed me her ass, but the sight of her stark naked but for boots and socks was the hottest thing I’d ever seen. I also adored the bashful way her hand occasionally wandered between her legs to cover herself. I caught glimpses of her precious little slit and shivered with excitement when I realized I’d get to taste it.

I took her hand. “Come on, baby, let’s lie down.”

We knelt down on the blanket, then lay on our sides to face each other. I traced my fingertips along her arm and down to her waist, then rested my hand there. “You’re such a beautiful girl.” I leaned forward and kissed her again. Her eyelids fluttered nervously and her sweet breath came in shivers. “Lie on your back, darling, and stick out your tongue for me.”

She dutifully obeyed, and I leaned forward and sucked the delicious wet pinkness. Elodie moaned and I stuck my own tongue out. The sweet girl didn’t hesitate, raising her head to suck on mine. We drifted together in a kiss that immediately grew hot and passionate.

I kissed her chin and trailed my lips down her neck, accompanied by tiny, playful nibbles. Elodie moaned and arched her back when I traced her ear with the tip of the tongue, then I murmured, “You’re so fucking gorgeous. I love you.”

“I – I love you too!” Elodie cried, hugging me tightly with both arms. “So, so, SO much!”

I slipped my tongue into the child’s ear, nibbled playfully at the lobe, then down the elegant column of her neck, leaving behind a trail of kisses until reaching Elodie’s chest. She gave a little “Ah!” when I lightly licked her puffy little nipple. I circled the tiny bud, causing it to stiffen, then darted across to do the same to the other, sucking it until she squealed. Unwinding Elodie’s arm from around my body, I raised it above her head and licked her smooth armpit.

“Oh, wow,” she moaned.

Then I kissed my way back to the centre of Elodie’s chest, and set off on my journey downward. My tongue flicked into Elodie’s delectable little belly button, probing it like I’d done with her ear. My body slid onto the coolness of the tiled floor, which probably hadn’t been cleaned in at least a week, but right then I couldn’t care less. I was a woman on a mission, my tongue now below Elodie’s belly, getting steadily closer to my prize. She was shivering with excitement as she realized where I was going.

“Ease your legs apart for me, love,” I said, and when those slender limbs parted, I positioned myself between them. I reached beneath her thighs to grasp each one, then brought them closer to my face. I tasted the soft skin of Elodie’s inner thigh, then moved in until what I wanted was right there, close enough for me to feel its warmth.

What a perfect age she was. Old enough to be aware of her sweet little sex, but young enough for it to still be flawlessly smooth. She was a delicate flower, ready to be plucked.

I drew a deep breath, sampling Elodie’s scent. The aroma promised sweetness. And when my tongue made contact, that promise was fulfilled – she was absolutely delicious. I licked a path from the top to the bottom of the girl’s baby-smooth slit.

I had to whisper as I explored her. “So beautiful. So luscious. Look at what you have. Let me taste it. Yes, it’s okay to moan, my love – no one will hear, that’s it. Oh God, you taste so good. Did you have a pee before you came in here, my sweet?”

“Yes,” the darling girl whispered back.

“I can taste it, I love it. Do you shower every day, and change your panties?”

“Yes, Maman says I must.”

“Of course she does.”

Was her French mother a stickler for cleanliness? She must have been – there was a freshness to Elodie’s sex that was downright intoxicating. I’d never tasted a sweeter pussy. I played around her clitoris with tiny swipes of the tongue, but not too much – I meant to take my sweet time pleasuring her. Instead, I pressed my index and middle fingers to each side of those sweet lips and gently parted them. They eased open with the most delicious wet sound, and I licked inside the exposed pinkness to make her even juicier. “So precious,” I whispered.

It didn’t seem right for me to penetrate her there with my finger. Not yet. So I eased myself along the blanket until my face was level with Elodie’s once more. I kissed her, and she responded just as I hoped, shyly extending her tongue to meet mine. Such a quick learner.

“Would you like to touch me, angel?”

“Um, I think so.”

“Good girl.” I took Elodie’s hand and guided it to my trimmed pussy. “There you go. Feel how warm it is. And wet. Yes, further down. Put two fingers in me, sweetie, and you’ll make me even wetter.”

I helped her get those fingers inside, then arched my back, dizzy with pleasure. “Oh, sweet Jesus, yes, Elodie, you’re incredible.” By then, my clit was begging for attention, so I began to tweak it with my free hand, using the other to show my little lover how to fuck me. “Good girl, feel how slippery it is, how easy it is to push in and out? Don’t be afraid – go in as far as you can.”

She began to saw her arm back and forth, hesitantly at first. “Um, like this?”

“Fuck, yes. Now do it fast, fast as you can.”

My clit rubbing became frantic as Elodie plunged her fingers in and out, in and out. I felt an orgasm build and my breath came in gasps. “You, you’re s-so beautiful, Elodie. D-don’t – oh, God, don’t stop!” I stammered.

Then, oh, my goodness. This little honey made me come so hard I nearly swooned. I was shuddering and moaning, groping my breasts. It was clear that I was going to squirt, so I drew back enough to avoid drenching Elodie with my juices. Then the final ecstasy was upon me, rising to an unimaginable peak, culminating in a violent jerk, a deep moan and a gush of womanly fluids.

I collapsed, with just enough remaining strength to take Elodie in my arms.

“Did you pee?” she asked.

“Not really,” I said. “It’s something some women do when they have sex and get especially excited. It isn’t  pee, but it comes from the same place.”

Her brow was slightly furrowed. “Is that what we just did? Have sex?”

“Oh, yes, my darling.” I kissed her. “Did you like it?”

Elodie slowly nodded. “Yes, very much. I liked it when you, um, put your mouth on me down there. And the kissing; that was nice. Also, I liked giving you good feelings.”

I gazed at her lovingly, well aware that she had yet to come herself. And I had some very definite thoughts about how to make that happen….

“I want to give you those good feelings, my love,” I told her. “But I’d like to do it a special way.”

“What sort of–”

There was a sudden commotion of thudding boots and girls’ voices just outside the door.

I placed a finger over Elodie’s lips before she could finish. “Sssh. Let’s wait for them to go.”

I continued to cradle her in my arms, nuzzling the child’s sweet-smelling hair. Then those boots abruptly clumped away, accompanied by fading girls’ voices, then silence.

Finally, I felt secure enough to speak. “There is something I’d like to do to you, honey. It’s kind of naughty, like before.”

“What is it?”

“I’d like you to turn over and lie on your tummy.”

“Okay.”

The gorgeous girl shifted onto her front. I eased Elodie’s ponytail to one side and gently massaged her shoulders. “You have such beautiful skin.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

I scooted up until I was on all fours above her, resting my mound on her angel-soft bottom, then I leaned down to her ear. “I said I wanted to lick you everywhere, remember?”

“Y-yes,” the child replied, already quivering in anticipation.

I briefly sucked Elodie’s earlobe before moving to kiss the back of her neck, then began a long sensuous journey, trailing my tongue down her spine. I eased my body down the length of hers, shifting position as I licked lower and lower.

The dip of her lower back was heaven, and my heart was thumping like crazy. The curve rose until I  reached the top of her buttocks, where there was a delicious hint of saltiness around her tail bone. Elodie’s breath was coming in quiet shudders, and I knew she had to be wondering what I intended to do to her next. I already knew the answer, and the thought of it made my heart gallop even faster.

The first time I saw Elodie take a throw-in, what I admired most wasn’t just her technique, her legs or the backs of her knees. No, there was something else I craved – the thing I’ve always wanted when it comes to pretty girls. One final push downwards brought her pert little bottom to within inches of my face. I kissed one cheek, then the other, sliding my hands down to grasp her thighs. “Let me spread your legs a little, sweetie. There you go.”

My hands rested once again on those tender cheeks. “Do you have something for me here, angel? A little jewel? A precious ruby?” I pressed into her buttocks and slowly, slowly parted them.

There it was. Her perfect little anus. “Oh, baby girl, you do. Look at this. Oh, my, it’s beautiful.” I leaned forward, pressed my nose against the tight brown orifice and inhaled deeply. Elodie whimpered, then a choked cry escaped her lips when I thrust my tongue forward, sliding the tip into her rectum.

It was nasty. It was delicious. The thick aroma, the sour taste and the surprised gasp Elodie gave, no doubt stunned to have a grown woman lick her back there – this was what I craved. I thought of all those years of secretly being in love with girls, then occasionally having them fall in love with me. It had been sheer torture, knowing I couldn’t do a damn thing about my feelings, or theirs. I was a mother, an ex-wife, a former teacher who was very good at her job, and what I wanted more than anything was to do this forbidden thing to a pretty little girl. To inspect her most secret place. To worship it. A perverted lesbian fantasy, one I couldn’t share with anyone. Ever.

Only now, in this place far away from my old life, I’d been given the opportunity to do just that. My twisted, beautiful dream was about to come true with Elodie. I forced my tongue into her again.

Elodie raised her head to moan, “Ohhhhhhh!”

I paused my licking. “Is it good?”

“Oh, God.”

“I know, I know.” I collected a gob of saliva in my mouth and spat it on her rosebud. The rudeness of the act turned me on even more. I used the tip of my index finger to rub the spit around the tight knot of Elodie’s anus.

“I want to put my finger in there, honey. If we go slow, it won’t hurt. Okay?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Push back against my finger, sweetie, and try to relax.”

I felt the sphincter muscle contract, then grip and suck the digit inside.

“Oh, yes, Elodie. Such a good girl.”

I penetrated her up to the knuckle. There I could feel the girl’s pulse, her rising excitement. Then I began to slowly go in and out. I pushed my long, manicured finger even further inside, past the tight anal ring and into the warm butter of her colon.

This dirty scenario had me trembling all over, beside myself with arousal. The sheer dirtiness of what I was doing to such an adorable young girl made me feel so fucking good. I probed her to the core, my finger as deep as it could go.

“Oh,” Elodie moaned. “Ohhhh, yes. Yes. So g-good.” She gave a shiver of ecstasy, her anal ring gripping my finger.

I was aflame with lust, aching with the need to come again. Once again, I reached down to toy with my clit, gazing in awe at Elodie’s ass. I moved closer to kiss a flawless buttock, but resisted an impulse to give it a playful bite. Maybe next time.

Elodie’s body was pumping on the blanket, gasping, “Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh,” then she suddenly stiffened and cried out loud. “Ahhhhhhhh!”

My God, I’d given her an anal orgasm. I’d only experienced that once or twice myself. The thought of making Elodie come in such a lewd way; the reality of this deep, dark fantasy playing out before my eyes; the certainty that she’d never felt anything even remotely like it, the knowledge that I’d just made this underage girl my lesbian lover – all these things came together to overwhelm me completely. Like a bolt from the blue, I came again, twitching and wailing and out of control. I peaked with a sharp scream, and this time I didn’t fucking care if anyone heard me or not.

I lay on the floor for a good minute with my finger still buried in Elodie’s rectum while we both recovered, sinking into a warm, post-orgasmic glow. Then I eased myself back up and patted her bottom with my free hand, murmuring, “I’m going to take my finger out now, sweetie.”

“Um, all right.”

I carefully withdrew from Elodie, then took her in my arms. “I hope you’re okay with me doing that to you, sweetie.”

“No one has ever touched me there before,” she replied.

“I’m glad I got to be the first,” I said, caressing her face. “Now we have to put our clothes on and get back to the game, before your dad and Kaitlyn start wondering where we are. If it was up to me, though, I’d spend the whole day here with you.”

“I would like that,” Elodie said. “Can we do this again some time?”

“I’d love to, angel, but we have to keep it completely secret. You can’t tell anyone else about this. You know the two of us aren’t supposed to be doing these things, don’t you?”

“I know,” Elodie said. She glanced down at my boobs, then gently cupped one. “But I cannot do anything about how I feel.” Her eyes met mine. “I love you, Jen.”

I could have cried. Instead I said, “Oh my precious, I love you, too. Tell you what, when I see you again, I’ll put my fingers on my earlobe, like this, and play with it. Then you’ll know I’m thinking of your sweet body and the very naughty things I want to do with you.”

She broke into a grin. “And I will put my hand on my hip when I look at you, so you will then know I’m thinking of things we can do together,” Elodie said. “Next time I want to use my mouth on you, just as you did for me.”

Oh, my goodness. I was sorely tempted to throw caution to the winds and have her go down on me there and then, but common sense prevailed, thank God. “I’d love that, sweetie. Listen, what if I spoke to your father about you and Kaitlyn having another play date? Then we could see each other, and maybe get a chance to kiss and cuddle and touch each other while Kaitlyn is doing something else.”

“I want to do that, yes!” Elodie exclaimed with a huge smile.

“Okay.” Getting to my feet, I reached down to take Elodie’s hand and help her up. We gathered up our clothes and began to dress. Once we were done, I studied her, then brushed a few hints of dust from her jersey.

“There you go, young lady. Go out there and warm up for your game. I’ll follow you in a minute.”

I led her to the door and just before I opened it, we embraced again. Unable to resist, I placed both hands on Elodie’s waist, then eased one down inside her shorts to cup that warm little slit. “I’ll think about this part of you a lot. I wish I could cover it all day like this. Protect it.”

Elodie gave a little sigh of pleasure. “Oh, Jen.”

I allowed my other hand to slip down the back to her sweet cheeks, easing a finger between them to caress her rosebud. “And I wish I could touch and kiss you here whenever I liked.”

“I’ll think of you in bed later,” Elodie said. “All night long. I will pretend you are there with me. Maybe I will touch myself while I have thoughts of you.”

We shared one last passionate kiss, then I opened the door and had a quick glance around. “Okay, the coast is clear. Go on, my darling.”

I patted Elodie on the bottom, and she set off toward the playing field. I followed behind a moment later, watching the way her gorgeous little bum moved in her shorts as we made our way back to the game.

***

Kaitlyn turned to me when we were in the car. “Is it okay if I listen to music, Mom?”

I looked over and noticed she was already wearing her earbuds. “Sure, go ahead.”

My daughter settled in for the ride and I drove on, thinking about the future and its possibilities. With my teacher qualifications I could easily get work in Australia. I’d seen all those private schools on the Pacific Highway. Private schools, for girls only. Hundreds of teenage nymphs together in the same place, with a mostly female staff. For me, the stuff of dreams.

I placed my right arm against the window while steering with the left. I’d been away so long that it still felt odd to drive from the right side of the car on the left side of the road, but I’d be completely used to it in a few weeks. It was a more natural way for a right-hander to drive anyhow. A quick glance at Kaitlyn confirmed she wasn’t looking, so I took the finger I’d used to probe Elodie and held it under my nose.

Now I had a plan. Kaitlyn and I would arrange play dates, so I’d get to see my darling Elodie again. Maybe we’d only get to make love every now and then, but I’d make each time special. I’d get a job in a good school and constantly be in the presence of young girls. Girls from good families, who took care of their bodies and always wore clean knickers. Some of the little darlings would fall in love with me, and this time I would give them what they wanted.

I shivered with wicked pleasure as I slipped that finger into my mouth to suck, making sure I kept my eyes on the road. Kaitlyn, bless her, didn’t notice a thing.

I was going to put an end to merely dreaming of and yearning for pretty girls. No, from now on I would indulge my appetite; embrace their love and make them mine. This was a new home, a fresh start – and I would do things differently here.

The End

The Evil That Men Do, Chapter 8

  • Posted on December 20, 2025 at 3:44 pm

The Story Thus Far

Chapter One: Mallory Kalvornek and her lover Julie Hanson have returned to Bronning, Minnesota, for the first time in years to catch up with friends and family. Meanwhile, their old friend (and occasional sex partner) paramedic Nettie Hastings fights to save a life, her lover Hannah drops by with an unexpected surprise, Terry Wilder grapples with writer’s block… and two little girls living in a trailer park named Heather and Gina are being carefully observed by a hidden stranger.

Chapter Two: Mallory and Julie get together at Nettie’s home with Nettie and her lover Hannah, Nettie’s friend Terry Wilder, Terry’s teen daughter Halee, and Mallory and Julie’s friend (and occasional sex partner) Cindy. Gossip is exchanged, memories shared, and an unexpected attraction between Mallory and Terry Wilder reveals itself. Meanwhile, the mother of the two trailer park girls Heather and Gina goes out for a night on the town, oblivious to the presence of the man spying on her home.

Chapter Three: At Nettie’s place, Nettie and Hannah leave the others to indulge in a bit of romantic pleasure, while Julie and her old friend Cindy get it on with Terry’s teen daughter Halee. As for Mallory, she has repaired to Terry’s place for one of her occasional bouts of heterosexual action. Appetites are indulged, confidences shared. Meanwhile, Heather and Gina are abducted from their trailer home by a mysterious and very scary man.

Chapter Four: At Nettie’s place, four women and Halee Wilder greet the morning after an evening of lesbian abandon. Later that day, Mallory rejoins Julie, Nettie, Cindy and Hannah for a day of fishing. Halee returns home and spends the day upgrading her internet in preparation for promised to be a fun night of video chat sex with her girlfriend Bethany. Meanwhile, Grace and Heather are in the custody of the mysterious man, who seems to takes delight in terrorizing them.

Chapter Five: After their day of fishing, Nettie, Julie, Cindy, Mallory & Hannah engage in a five-woman sexfest inside a tent… and with the use of Cindy’s phone, their old friend and occasional bedmate Emma attends the orgy virtually. In the midst of their abandon, Nettie has a weird, vague memory flashback that leaves her shaken, but she conceals it from the others. Back home, Halee and her new love interest Bethany (Hannah’s daughter) are having long-distance sex via their laptops. 

Chapter Six: Nettie has a heart-to-heart with Hannah about her personal demons. Later, she gets a call from Agent Bridgett Ramscone, who has an unsettling request: for Nettie to go through the documentation of her own childhood kidnapping — and the murder of her sister — as a possible way to gain insight into the abduction of Heather and Gina (who are still being emotionally abused by their kidnapper, but are also taking steps to escape). Nettie is shaken, but agrees to do what she can. 

Chapter Seven: Many years after the fact, submerged memories of Nettie’s kidnapping began to make themselves known — memories of a possible accomplice to the original crime. She shares her thoughts with Bridgett. Meanwhile, Heather and Gina work on a potential escape from their makeshift prison.

For a list of the characters from the story you are now reading, visit this page. 

For a list of the characters from the previous two stories that you will encounter here as well, visit this page.

And now, dear readers, we make our way into the next installment. Read on…

by Rachael Yukey

Somebody save me tonight
I’m ready and willing to fight

Uriah Heep, 2023

Nettie didn’t know why she couldn’t stop staring at the photo of a dirt road. It was almost seven AM, and she’d been flipping through case files on her laptop for the better part of two hours. No epiphanies seemed forthcoming, but something about this one picture kept calling her back.

Heather and Gina Dulcey, along with their unknown captor, had been tracked a little over a mile through the woods by police dogs. The scent had gone cold when it crossed paths with a lightly traveled dirt road leading from the highway to a remote fishing spot, the obvious inference being that the perp had loaded the girls into a waiting car, then hauled them off to who the fuck knew where.

The photo in question depicted the wretched dirt trail at the point where the scent had been lost, in hopes of identifying the vehicle’s model based on tire tracks left in the dust. Unfortunately, there were four discernable sets of tracks, none of them the same. All four vehicles appeared to have driven all the way to the lake, turned around, and made their way back to civilization. It seemed a complete dead end, yet every time Nettie pulled it up she felt something nibbling at her subconscious.

Giving her head a hard shake, she flipped to a new file with an angry stab of a finger, promising herself she wasn’t going to waste another single second on this stupid picture of tire tracks.

Then she froze in place, her mouth hanging slack. Just a goddamned minute…

It took a full thirty seconds for her hands to catch up with her brain. She called up that same image again, zooming in on one particular set of tracks. Switching to her file browser, she opened the case file for her own abduction all those years ago. A trembling hand blindly scooped her phone from the end table.

“Ramscone here. Are you feeling better, Nettie?”

“I’m fine, Bridgett. Do you know if anyone was able to get a range of what car models might have made the tracks? You know; on the road where the dogs lost the scent. That info isn’t in the files you sent me.”

“Um—” The clatter of a computer keyboard emanated from the other end of the line. “Hold on a minute.” Nettie opened her mouth to speak, but too late. Bridgett’s voice was replaced by a fuzzy-sounding orchestral arrangement of some fucking 70’s rock hit that Nettie couldn’t quite put a name to. She waited long moments, fingers drumming impatiently on the arm of her chair. It was almost two full minutes before the irritatingly familiar tune cut out.

“Sorry, I had to make a quick phone call to get that,” said Bridgett. “There’s not much to go on. They got the measurements, but all those tracks could have been made by a fairly wide range of vehicles. Why?”

“You put me on hold before I was finished,” said Nattie. “I’m looking at a set of tracks that’s a little closer together than the others. Narrow vehicle, narrow tires. To me that screams little shit-car from the 70’s or 80’s. One of those Japanese deathtraps that starts rusting if you overspray it with a garden hose. What I was about to ask before you put me on hold is if you could find out whether those tracks matched the footprint of a 1981 Datsun 210.”

“Why a Datsun 210?”

“Because according to the old case files, Jacob Brentshaw was the registered owner of a 1981 Datsun 210 hatchback. And there were tire tracks at the scene where Anna and I were found that matched the footprint of that car.”

There was a moment’s silence. “The guy I just talked to was going to email me his list of possibilities,” said Bridgett. “Hang on, the message just now landed in my inbox—”

Another silence. “Yep—a Datsun 210 is one of half a dozen different car models those tracks could have been made by.”

Nettie felt a wave of excitement course through her, but that feeling was almost immediately beaten down by a surge of annoyance. “And nobody thinks this is significant?”

“Nettie—” Bridgett ventured cautiously, “I doubt the FBI people have even made that connection. Jacob Brentshaw is dead. His vehicle wasn’t at the scene of the crime when he was apprehended; he rode in on a snowmobile that day. If anyone knows where his car ended up, it’s not in any of the documentation I have. But the thing was ancient even when—”

“So what?” Nettie cut her off. “You sent this stuff to me based on the theory that it’s either a copycat crime, or maybe Brentshaw has an accomplice at large. If it’s a copycat, maybe the perp wanted the same sort of thing he drove. You told me yourself how obsessive those people can be about stuff like that. If it’s an accomplice—hell. For all we know it could be the same fucking car.”

“That should be easy enough to rule out,” Bridgett replied thoughtfully. “We can just trace whether a vehicle with the same VIN has been registered since—”

Nettie snorted. “Are you kidding? Oh, that’s right—you’ve always lived in the metro. Bridgett, I know a guy who forgot to re-register his pickup a few years back, and drove the goddamn thing for almost a year before a cop noticed his tabs were expired. I mean, it’s worth checking, but just because it’s not registered doesn’t mean someone isn’t driving it. Not out here.”

“Hmmm.” Bridgett was silent for so long Nettie began to wonder if the connection had been lost. She was just opening her mouth to speak when Bridgett spoke up again. “Here’s the thing. The FBI grudgingly let me share all this stuff with you, but they’re not taking anything either of us has to say very seriously. This opens up a whole new line of investigation, and they’re not likely to devote resources to pursuing it because, well, they don’t believe in it.”

“Fuck, Bridgett, I’m not sure I believe in it.”

Bridgett sighed. “Me either, but it’s at least as promising as anything else that’s been brought to the table. I’m traveling up north this morning to look things over for myself. Care to join me?”

Nettie sat forward, eyes widening. It was the first time Bridgett had requested her presence to assist with an investigation on the ground. Still—

“I don’t see how you can justify going at all, Bridgett, much less bringing me along. You’re DEA, not—”

“One of my agents up there let slip that we have a lead on whoever was supplying the babysitter with the narcotics that were in her system. We don’t, and to be honest we’re not even really looking, but it gives me an excuse to go poking around. And to bring an assistant. Whaddya say?”

“Well, for one thing, I’m starting a thirty-six hour shift at seven this evening.”

Bridgett sniffed audibly. “Let me call you back in five.”

Pushing herself out of the chair, Nettie made her way down the hall to her bedroom. Nestled in the walk-in closet were a couple of nice old pieces of brown leather luggage that had belonged to her father. Nettie pulled out the smaller of the two, tossed it carelessly onto the bed, and then slipped out of her bathrobe. Rummaging in her dresser, she got into a bra, a plain black long-sleeve shirt, and a pair of comfortable but decent-looking jeans. She then pulled out a few changes of clothes, choosing almost at random. She didn’t know precisely what Bridgett had in mind, but had little doubt that she’d be joining the investigation.

She was unzipping the suitcase with one hand and clutching a fistful of undies in the other when her ringtone went off. Abandoning the zipper, she snatched up her phone.

“You are no longer scheduled to work this evening,” Bridgett said without preamble.

Nettie was not the least bit surprised. “How exactly did you pull that off?”

“A contract medic is on his way to Johnstown to take your place, at our expense.”

“And what did you tell Greg Wahlberg to get him to go along with that?”

“The truth, or at least a heavily abridged version of it. Your boss strikes me as a fundamentally decent guy. Besides, I can be damn persuasive when I want to be.”

Nettie snickered. “Tell me something I don’t know. What’s the plan here, anyway?”

“It’s about a three-hour drive for me to get to Forbes from where I’m sitting right now,” Bridgett replied. “To pick you up would be almost an hour out of my way. But driving on your own, you could be there in ninety minutes. You wanna just do it that way and meet me somewhere? Keep track of your mileage; it’s compensated.”

Five minutes later, Nettie was backing out of her driveway.

***

Heather slams the loose chunk of concrete down on the last, and most stubborn, of the broken pieces embedded in the earth. Raising it again, she strikes once more, a cry of pain emanating from her lips. And feels the damn thing finally give way. The smaller chunk is hurled to the side, and raw, bleeding fingers pry loose the final recalcitrant bit. Then those fingers scrabble at the dirt, pulling away as much loose detritus as they can.

The resulting hole is wider than either her shoulders or Gina’s, but that’s not the problem. It’s the clearance between the hard-packed earth and the first unbroken siding board that concerns her.

“I don’t know if we can dig any deeper,” she mutters in desperation. “The ground underneath is really hard.”

“So we can’t get out?” Gina is crying again.

“I won’t fit. But I think maybe you can.”

Swiping at the tears on her cheeks with grubby fingers, Gina eyes the opening critically. “Maybe. But what about you? What’ll he do to you when he finds out I’m gone?” Her voice rises to a plaintive wail on the last few words.

Shoving her fears down deep, Heather resolutely meets her little sister’s gaze. “Nothing he won’t do to both of us when he gets here and sees we’ve been trying to get out. Just go, Gina. The sun’s up, and he’ll get here soon. I’ll keep digging till he does, but the best thing you can do for me is to find help.”

“But where?” Gina wails.

“I don’t know—stay in the woods. Try to go straight. If you can do that, there’s got to be a highway sooner or later.” Heather’s lived around the forest long enough to know that GIna is just as likely to go in circles until she stumbles into an abandoned mine or gets mauled by a bear or just plain can’t walk anymore. But what are the alternatives? She doesn’t believe for a second that the monster is going to let either of them leave this shed alive.

It takes almost five minutes for Gina, grunting and squirming, to worm her way through the narrow opening. She squeals in pain as Heather pushes on her butt, forcing it the last few centimeters to the other side. Her legs disappear, and a moment later her anxious face is pressed against the hole.

“Heather,” she whimpers, tears flowing freely, “I’m s-scared.”

“Just go, Gina!” Heather urges. “Go before he shows up!”

“Heather, he’s going to hurt you!”

“He would anyway. I’ll keep digging. Gina, go now! Get help for me.”

Gina’s face disappears, but her heartbreaking sobs are still loud in Heather’s ears. With a crunch of leaves, Heather hears the younger girl take her first tentative steps. Then those feet begin to run. The sobs recede. Steeling herself, Heather begins to frantically claw at the dirt with swollen, bleeding fingers.

***

The rusting hulk of the Datsun idles in the center of the dirt trail. A haunted figure wearing a faded green army field jacket from a bygone age raises the hatchback and leans in, coming up a few minutes later with a center-screw jack. The figure ambles to the passenger side of the car, only mildly annoyed by the delay. He has time. He has all the time in the world.

***

“Hey, Antoinette—sorry I missed your call earlier. We had a trauma case at the ER this morning that they needed anesthesia for.” Hannah’s voice boomed from Nettie’s car stereo, through which she’d been blasting Labyrinth at chest-pummeling levels. She hastily cranked back the volume.

“No problem, babe. Everything okay back there?”

“Yeah, or at least it will be. The medic who brought the patient in was kind of a tool, though. Guy named Sam? There were airway management problems, and he gave me some lip when I questioned him on it.”

Nettie sighed. “Yeah, I know. The company hired him last month, over my objections. Send me a write-up, and I’ll make sure it gets addressed.”

“Thanks. So what’d you need? Or could you just not go another minute without hearing my hella sexy voice?”

Nettie laughed. “That too. Look—I’m traveling on that case we were talking about yesterday. I’m about ninety minutes northeast of you right now.”

“Whoa—I thought you were just a consultant. What about your shift tonight?”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too. Guess not. And the shift’s covered. The point is, Hannah, I might be gone for a couple days.”

“I understand. We still on for dinner and tongue exercises this weekend?” A hint of merriment had crept into Hannah’s voice.

Nettie smiled, but only for a moment. “Hannah—”

“Yeah?”

“Look—I totally want to do those things with you this weekend. But maybe something else, too. Would you be willing to drive up to Bronning again? There—there’s something I need to show you. Then tell you about.”

Hannah didn’t hesitate. “Of course I’ll come.”

Nettie slowed as she approached a stop sign, signaling right towards Highway Seven. A glance at the GPS told her she was a mere couple of miles from her destination.

“Thanks, Hannah. Look, I have to go. We’ll talk more soon.”

“Can’t wait.”

Nettie broke the connection as she pulled up to the intersection of Town Lake Road and Highway Seven. Across the highway and to the right was a largish, dilapidated brown building with a low-slung gymnasium-length addition out back, which she recognized from the case files. It had once been an elementary school, then briefly a restaurant, and now an apartment complex. The dirt parking lot contained half a dozen cars, none of them even close to new.

Across the road from that was what appeared to be a long-abandoned gas station, with a structure behind that had probably been a service shop. Beyond that was brushy wasteland, giving way to pine forest about fifty yards in. Except for the trailer park, this was the single largest cluster of buildings in the township of Iron Junction.

Shaking her head, Nettie turned right onto Highway Seven, accelerating smoothly. Once you left the old school behind, there wasn’t much out here. Mostly just evergreens, with clearcuts pockmarking the landscape to make room for the occasional residence. On her left passed a post office and an auto repair shop, each standing on its own, incongruous against the backdrop of trees. After two miles of this, her GPS informed her that the next turn was Keenan Lake Road.

Nettie pulled off onto the shoulder, right turn signal flashing, and came to a stop. Resting both hands on the wheel, she closed her eyes, thick black hair pressed against the headrest. There was no particular reason to turn off into the trailer park from which the Dulcey girls had been taken. She could continue in the direction she was already headed, and in about twenty minutes she would reach the city of Virginia, where she and Bridgett had arranged to meet for lunch.

But Bridgett was almost two hours behind her, so she might as well get a feel for the scene while she waited. Not that she had the first fucking clue how a proper investigative procedure was carried out, but what could it hurt to take a quick look around? She opened her eyes, took her foot off the brake, and turned the wheel to the right.

Keenan Lake Road was essentially a long hill with a moderate slope, a couple of houses tucked into the pine trees on either side. At the crest of the hill and to the left was the trailer park.

Nettie idled her Kia slowly around the outside of the ramshackle community, marveling at its state of disrepair. The trailer park back in Bronning was a pit, but this place was a whole new level of ghetto. Over half the homes, she judged, were unoccupied, as evidenced by weed-choked front walks and broken windows. Several add-on enclosed porches had collapsed into unusability, and strips of aluminum siding hung precariously. If she’d had to guess, not a single trailer in the park was less than forty years old. The only person she saw as she circled the place was an elderly woman sitting in a lawn chair, idly stroking a cat. She raised her hand as Nettie drove by. Nettie waved back.

On the far side of the park, kitty-cornered at the opposite end from the entrance, was the lot in which the abduction had taken place. Nettie approached hesitantly, lowering her speed to a crawl while still several lots away. The trailer was a shortish blue-on-white affair, probably no more than two bedrooms, as shabby and ill-kept as any of the other still-habitable units she’d passed. A few well-worn toys dotted the poorly maintained lawn; a plastic table and tea service, a couple of bikes.

Nettie blinked as her eyes fell on the car in the driveway. The rust-eaten Honda was of a design hearkening back to the eighties, and Nettie wondered if its narrow wheelbase and tires might just fit the profile of the tracks that had precipitated her presence here.

But as quickly as this line of thinking occurred to her, she abandoned it. The mother’s whereabouts were thoroughly vouched for at the babysitter’s estimated time of death, and most of the period before and after. First by a roomful of fellow barflies, then by the man she’d left the bar with and his roommates. Mom was in the clear.

Nettie allowed the car to drift past the corner lot without coming to a halt, easing right to follow the gentle turn. She couldn’t think of any compelling reason to stop. Now on the downhill side of the park, she noted there were no lots to her left. That side remained wooded, no doubt owing to a steep drop just a few yards inside of the tree line, which she knew from the satellite footage terminated on the shores of Keenan Lake.

Fixing her eyes on the side streets to her right, Nettie focused her attention on the handful of vehicles parked in the driveways. With some dismay, she noted that several of them were of similar character to the ancient smurf-blue heap behind her at the Dulcey girls home. Aged compacts from the 80s or early 90s, quietly rusting in the Minnesota sun. No wonder the FBI had no interest in following up on that set of tracks; cars like these were probably legion in this neck of the woods.

Coming around another bend, she accelerated uphill towards the park entrance. Whatever the answer was, she wouldn’t find it here.

***

The lean, worn figure glares at the still-shiny black halo nestled into the spare tire compartment. The goddamn donut is flat. He hadn’t expected that; the cubby looks pristine, new, and dust-free, a stark contrast to the rest of this rundown pile of scrap. Most likely, this is the first time it’s been opened since this wreck rolled off the assembly line. His mild annoyance has escalated to low-level consternation.

He doesn’t think the vehicle will be visible through the tree cover, and the odds of anyone coming across it are slim going on zero. Nevertheless, it won’t do to leave it sitting here for any length of time. He considers trying to drive out on the rim, but the Datsun’s clearance is barely adequate for the badly rutted trail as it is. He hefts the spare experimentally; at least it isn’t very heavy. Hugging it to his body, he sets off towards the highway.

***

Heather Dulcey huddles against the wall of the shed, only inches from the hole she’s created. She still can’t get through. She’s been using the concrete chunks to scrape at the hard-packed earth, but it’s slow going, and her hands are an almost unbearable mass of pain. The exhaustion she feels does nothing to improve the situation; Heather has been awake for over twenty-four hours now.

Fuzzy, indistinct thoughts flit through her head, scraps of imagery with no particular connection from one to the next. Tea on the lawn with Gina, only days before. Mom in those hideous red “steppin’ boots”. That horrid creature scraping lazy patterns on Gina’s belly with a sharp stick. Gina’s seventh birthday party—the last time they saw their father. He’d taken them horseback riding, then vanished from their lives without explanation or a trace.

Heather’s eyes drift closed—then snap open again. She gives her head a hard shake, then lets it sag back against the wall. Her eyes drift closed again. This time they stay that way.

***

Crossroads Convenience, about a mile up Highway 7 from Keenan Lake Road, was about as nondescript as the countless other copy/paste convenience stores dotting the American landscape. Gas, grocery, and attached liquor store, nothing noteworthy except its remoteness. Across the highway was a large junkyard, the badly faded sign out front optimistically proclaiming HOLMES PREMIER RECYCLING AND SALVAGE.

Nettie stepped into the gas and grocery side of the building, an icy blast of air conditioning sending an immediate shiver down her spine. Casting her eyes about, she located the coffee machines and headed in that direction.

Sixty seconds later she was at the counter, a hastily selected candy bar in hand, a medium coffee in the other. The cashier was a pretty teenage girl, her brown hair tucked under a baseball cap sporting the store’s logo.

“Find everything all right?” the young lady inquired, aiming her scanner at Nettie’s Milky Way.

“Not quite,” Nettie replied. Shutting out the part of her mind that told her it would be better to wait for Bridgett, she pulled a thin faux leather wallet from her purse, flipping it open to flash the DEA consultant card Bridgett had insisted she carry.

The girl’s eyes widened in alarm, and she drew in a sharp breath. “Hey, listen, I haven’t—”

“I was wondering,” Nettie cut in, “if you’ve happened to notice an old compact car of some kind stopping for gas here. Something from the 80s, maybe a Datsun. Probably rusty.” The young woman blew out her breath and blinked a couple of times. Nettie realized the poor thing had paled visibly.

“Look, um—” Nettie glanced down at the name tag pinned to the Crossroad Convenience polo. “Jennifer. I don’t care what you’re using, except to say that you really ought to knock that shit off. You’re young and pretty, and believe me, you don’t want to find out where that road leads. I don’t even care if you’re dealing from the back room of this dump. I’m just trying to find out about this car, and whoever might be driving it. Any help?”

Jennifer gave a jittery laugh, then got a grip on herself. “I—I don’t know if I can really help you,” she got out. “There’s a lot of crappy old cars around here, y’know.”

“Sure, I see that,” Nettie replied. “What about a hatchback? You don’t see a whole lot of those anymore. An old hatchback. Think Datsun, or something similar.”

The girl pursed her lips. “Yeah—okay. There’s this old gray rusty hatchback that’s stopped here for gas a few times. I probably wouldn’t even notice, but the guy always comes in first thing in the morning, just after we open, and he prepays his gas with cash. I mean—who does that?”

With an effort, Nettie suppressed her mounting excitement. “How often?”

“Every three, maybe four days for the last few weeks. Say—does this have anything to do with those two little girls missing from the trailer park?”

Thinking fast, Nettie shook her head. “Why would it? This is a DEA thing, remember? Does the guy talk about anything when he’s in here?”

“He doesn’t really talk at all. I’ll say good morning or whatever, and he just sort of nods and mumbles.”

“What does he look like? And does he buy anything other than gas?”

“He’s thin. I think he’s older, maybe in his fifties or so. Dude always has a big floppy hat on. When he gets his gas, he also gets donuts and coffee. He always looks tired, like he’s been up all night. Does that help?”

“Do you have security cams?” Nettie already knew the answer, having taken note of their locations.

“Who doesn’t?”

***

Ten minutes later Nettie was seated in the convenience store office, watching a replay from over a week before. The young attendant had phoned her mother, who owned the place, to get the access password for the cam footage. The light gray Datsun, rear rocker panels almost completely rusted away, was illuminated by the harsh lights of the pump awning, the background obscured in a predawn fog. A quick Google search on her phone confirmed that the car was a model 210.

This piece of footage was almost identical to the several captures she’d already viewed, the most recent of these taken the morning of the girls’ abduction. A lanky driver, clad in jeans, construction boots, and a faded olive drab jacket came inside the store, got his coffee and chocolate glazed, prepaid for gas in cash, fueled the car, then drove away. Like Jennifer said, he wore a large, floppy white hat that drooped enough to obscure his features. Never once did he look directly at any of the security cameras. Nettie was quite certain he was aware of their locations and deliberately avoiding them.

Jennifer, who had stepped out to wait on a customer, returned to the office. “Need me to see if there are any more?”

Nettie stood and stretched. In her hand she clutched a scrap of paper with the license plate number, and another with her own phone number on it. All her senses were tingling. “No, I think I’m good. Thank you.”

The two of them walked back out to the sales floor. Nettie caught Jennifer’s arm before she could slip behind the counter.

“Two things,” she said. “First of all: this guy is dangerous. If he comes back, act natural. Just wait on him like usual, and don’t give him any reason to think you’re suspicious. After he has gone, call me at this number right away.” She pressed the bit of paper with her number into the girl’s hand.

“Second, about what I said before. I saw how you reacted to my card. Seriously—whatever you’re doing, just stop. You’re a beautiful young woman, and you don’t want to fuck everything up for yourself when you’re just getting started in life. My thing is booze. I’m working on it, but I wish I’d never got started.”

The girl gave Nettie a sultry half-smile, tilting her head to one side. “You really think I’m pretty?”

Nettie recognized that look. Placing both hands on Jennifer’s shoulders, she leaned close. “Oh, yes. And if I didn’t have a girlfriend, we’d be having an entirely different conversation.” She planted a kiss on the corner of the girl’s mouth, then turned and strode from the station.

An awed Jennifer studied Nettie’s ass as the woman walked away. “Damn,” she breathed.

***

Moments later Nettie was seated in her car, frantically pulling up Bridgett’s number. As per usual, the DEA agent picked up at once. “Hello, Nettie.”

“I’m onto something, Bridgett. Something big. I checked out the convenience store about a mile from the trailer park and found out…”

“Wait, wait—hold on. You did what?

Nettie sighed, realizing she’d almost certainly exceeded her mandate. “I know I should probably have waited, Bridgett. But listen; I stopped in this place and asked about old hatchbacks stopping in. This girl who works the morning shift, the owner’s daughter—she’s seen this one guy come in on the regular for a few weeks. She’s got cam footage. It was a rusty old Datsun—a model 210. The guy driving wore a big ass hat that hid his face, and he was  obviously avoiding the cameras. Minnesota plates, expiration date November of this year. I have the license number; are you able to run it?”

It was a long moment before Bridgett replied. “Officially, you shouldn’t have done that, Nettie. Unofficially, damn fine work. Gimme the number.” Nettie read it off.

“Okay, got it,” said Bridgett. “I have to call this in. Are you still at Crossroads Convenience?”

“Yeah, I’m in the parking lot.”

“I’m about an hour away. How about I meet you there instead of Virginia?”

“Works for me. See you then, Bridgett.” Nettie killed the connection, then screwed her eyes shut, thinking hard. In each instance, the cam footage showed the vehicle pulling in from the east off of MN 37, then heading back out the same way. There was no deviation from this pattern. That also happened to be the direction one would take to find the little dirt trail the tire tracks had been photographed on.

Opening her eyes, Nettie threw the car into reverse, backed out, and then accelerated towards 37 in the eastbound direction. She recalled the details from the maps she’d studied, keeping an eye on the mile markers as they passed. She’d just pegged the speedometer at sixty-two when the phone rang.

“Hi, Bridgett. Did you trace the plates?”

“I did. Those tabs are stolen. Went missing from a Ford pickup just outside of Hibbing a little over a month ago.”

Nettie’s eyebrows disappeared into her hairline. “Did you ever check on Brentshaw’s car?”

“Yeah, just heard back on that a little while ago. There’s no record of it following his arrest. It was never impounded, because it wasn’t at the scene when he was taken, nor was it found at his residence. It hasn’t been registered since.”

An uneasy shiver went up Nettie’s spine. Taking note of the upcoming mile marker, she tapped her brakes, looking carefully to the right. “Bridgett, you don’t think—”

“Brentshaw is dead, Nettie. Confirmably. He was murdered in prison last year. And the odds of this being the same car are so spectacularly low they’re barely worth discussing. It does make a very decent argument for a copycat situation, though. The FBI won’t be able to ignore this once we show them what you’ve found.”

A wooden sign, so badly worn as to be scarcely legible, marked the entrance to Keenan Trail. Nettie signaled right, hauling off onto the gravel shoulder. “Fair enough, Bridgett. Think you can get an agent here to talk to us once you arrive? The sooner everyone is in on the lookout for that car, the better.”

“Oh, I’ve already activated an all-points on the car.” Bridgett replied, sounding a trifle smug. “I have the authority to do that much, at least. And I’m going to arrange a meeting as soon as I’m off the phone with you.”

“Sounds good,” said Nettie. “Let me know when you’re close.”

“Will do,” said Bridgett, and cut the connection.

Nettie turned her attention to the sad little dirt trail just ahead and to her right, still cordoned off with crime scene tape. Shoving the car in park, she got out, knowing there was precious little she’d be likely to learn here. Only trouble was, she hadn’t the slightest clue where to look next.

On to Chapter Nine!

Lollipop Lane, Chapter 1

  • Posted on December 15, 2025 at 4:02 pm

Note from JetBoy: A fascinating wrinkle on lesbian erotica from our newest Juicy Secrets contributor. Very few editing changes were needed with this one. Please enjoy, and do give Emma a rousing welcome to the family.

by Emma

Chapter One: Hentai First, Crying and Cocoa Later

Hi there, I’m Bunny! Wanna see my tushy?

Well, hang on, I have some stuff I need to get done before Mommy gets home, but don’t worry. I love showing my bottom to everyone, so you’ll be seeing a lot of it! (Also, shhh, I’m only twelve in real life, but I always say I’m eighteen when I show off my bottom to strangers, usually nice ladies. See, that way they can just claim I told them I was eighteen. (Wait, wait, wait, I’m getting distracted again!)

Okay, okay, so maybe tonight there’s laundry to fold and a suspicious number of glittery paw prints to clean off the entryway floor. But I’m lonely, and antsy, and the couch is soft, and my favorite hentai is glowing on the TV in soft pinks and sparkles, and… yeah. My little bunny bottom wanted me to put a little bunny butt plug inside, and I didn’t want to wait for Mommy to get home, so I got it and put it in and now I’m too horny and I just caaan’t do any chores, I need to come…

Besides, Mommy’s out on one of her Very Important Dates with someone that she thinks can become part of Lollipop Lane…but I’m bored and needy and, ugh…so twitchy with waiting, I can barely sit still.

I mean, have you ever tried to focus on setting the table when your head is full of anime centaur girls with perfect tushies and legs that go on forever? Didn’t think so.

So now it’s me, the couch, my favorite stuffy Theodore (he’s a big teddy bear with stitching on him that says Good Girls Get Kisses, but I took a marker and crossed out Kisses and scribbled in Pussy Licks, which has all my neighborhood friends dissolve into giggling fits, it’s great!), and I keep replaying the same two-minute scene where the wolf-girl sniffs the centaur’s pussy and whispers, “I missed this.” It’s supposed to be romantic. It’s definitely not appropriate for girls my age. I’ve watched it five times. Seven. Actually, nine…okay, nineteen.

I know I’m just setting myself up, falling in love with fictional characters (from cartoons, even!), but then the centauress lifts up the wolf-girl’s tail so high and we see her oh, so cute little bottom hole and, well… my horny little heart gets swept away on a sea of lust.

I tell myself I’m just relaxing. I deserve it! Outside of Lollipop Lane, everything’s so, so boring, and I have to do dumb schoolwork all the time… God, what a stupid world.

And I start wondering what Mommy would say if she saw me bouncing on my tail like this when she gets home? Would she roll her eyes? Would she give me that I ‘m-finally-really-smiling smile and say, “Again, Bunny?” with that mommy voice that makes me feel like I’m already forgiven, yet really, really in trouble at the same time?

I kind of hope she walks in before I decide to behave myself. Just barges through the door in her sexy date-night dress and finds me without a stitch of clothing, curled up on the rug watching cartoons I’m not supposed to watch, a cute little butt plug in my tushie. Makes me shiver, just picturing it.

I rock a little…juuust enough to feel my tail go further in. It’s really hard to come from just my bottom, and I’m not touching my pussy. I’m not, I swear…

I imagine Mommy stepping through the door right now, catching me mid-rock, taking in the glint of surprise in my eyes, the wolf-girl sniffing and licking the centaur-girl’s tushy on the TV screen. Maybe Mommy would lean down, sniff my hair, sigh like she’s disappointed but not surprised. Maybe she’d whisper in my ear, How many times did you edge today, baby girl?

It isn’t easy, but I force myself to stop rocking. Breathe. Breathe.

I want Mommy to see me like this. I’ve been so good, saving myself for her. By now, my whole body is screaming pretty please notice me!

And then I imagine Mommy walking through the door, only this time, there’s someone with her —maybe a big sister for me, or better still, a littler sister, littler than I am! When I picture that, it’s so, SO hard not to just let myself go and come. It’s been building up inside me for hours, and my entire body is screaming for it.

I can’t help it. I need to call Mommy. I need to know when she’s getting home…

♡ ⚢ ♡ ⚢ ♡

 

My name is Lilliana Ferris. I turned thirteen yesterday, and the first thing that I learned as a “young adult” is that it’s the most depressing thing in the world.

I don’t even like Halloween parties. Too many expectations, too many girls in carefully curated slutty costumes pretending it’s all an exercise irony. Meanwhile, I was sitting on a freezing bus bench at eight in the evening, drenched in rain, crying into the shredded remains of my dollar-store zombie goth-girl outfit, which, spoiler alert, wasn’t water resistant.

I’m a teenager. I’m supposed to be, I don’t know, sexy now, right?

Mascara streamed down my cheeks like war paint drawn by a raccoon having a breakdown. Valerie, my one “friend” who was supposed to get me into the party, ditched me as soon as someone said, “Ugh, who invited HER?” loud enough for everyone to hear.

So yeah. I got kicked out of a Halloween party for being unpopular. Welcome to adulthood.

When the rain started pouring down, I was half-hoping the next bus would be a metaphorical one. As in: my one-way ticket to the big goodbye. If I stretched myself out in the street, would the bus just roll right over me? Right then, it was a tempting notion.

Yeah, that’s how bad it was. I was done with everything.

My grades were terrible. Everyone at school made fun of me for carelessly saying that a couple of our female teachers were really, really pretty. I more or less got bullied every day. My mom said this would happen when I came out.

Well, really, she hadn’t said much. She’d yelled a lot, that was for sure. I could still hear her words, echoing in my head. It’s all gonna lead towards those stupid scam art schools and being surrounded by a bunch of queers! Is that what you want, Lily? Get yourself a crew cut, quit wearing makeup, stop shaving your legs, dress in baggy clothes and tell the world you’re a man-hating dyke? You make me sick.”

My dad said nothing, but only because he was too busy being a piece of shit with the other women he’s got stashed around town. He’s even had kids with some of them. My mom can’t get him to keep it in his pants, so she takes it out on me because, according to her, I’m the one who messed up her figure when I was born.

I sniffled. The rain was getting colder. I wondered how much it would cost to buy a gun and a bullet. One was all I’d need.

A voice brought me out of my miserable reverie. “Excuse me.”

I looked up, sniffling…and just like that, I forgot about wanting to die.

“Oh, you look positively drowned, poor thing…”

A woman stood in front of me, holding a massive black umbrella, elegant as a movie still. Like a black-and-white movie still from the 1920’s where the femme fatale meets a boarding school teacher, if the teacher had the habit of spanking her students and kissing them afterwards.

Hair in a tight, perfect bun. Emerald eyes framed by lashes long enough to trip over. Her high heels clicked against the wet concrete as she stepped closer – heels that didn’t even pretend to be practical, but somehow her balance in the rain was perfect. Her clothes were all elegance and poise – a long coat, pencil skirt, matching gloves – gloves! – and a large, sleek purse that reminded me of a traveler’s satchel.

I blinked at her. “I’m… fine.”

“Oh of course you are,” she said, a hint of amusement. “That’s why you’re half-naked on a bus bench in the rain, crying like a soggy cupcake.”

I pulled my legs up, shivering. “I w-wasn’t crying.”

Her eyes strayed to my thighs. Maybe… up my skirt? I wasn’t exactly being coy.

“Oh, darling.” She sat next to me, her umbrella eclipsing the storm clouds until I was, blessedly, out of the shower for the moment. Her gloved hand tilted my chin upward, eyes scanning me with clinical warmth, like she was diagnosing the exact kind of attention I’d been starved of. “You’ve been abandoned, haven’t you?”

I swallowed. This was… so forward, yet polite.

“I know the mien of being cast aside, dear.”

My throat made a pathetic little sound.

Her smile turned indulgent. “Fortunately for you, I’ve found discarded things make delightful company.” She offered me the umbrella. “Hold this for me, little one. My name is Miss Ashcroft. You’re mine, now.”

“I’m Lily… I… what did you say…?”

She opened her purse and produced a silver thermos. Then two small metal cups, hardly big enough for Victorian tea time. “Lily, you should know that I despise drinking alone. It feels bourgeois.”

I blinked. “Wh-what is it?”

She was unscrewing the lid and pouring steaming liquid into one cup. “Hot cocoa. I brought it to the theater, intending to share it with a gorgeous friend during intermission. But, alas…” She offered me one cup, warm as her smile. “I was, as your generation phrases it, ghosted. She stood me up.”

I took the cup, mostly because I was freezing, half-sure I was hallucinating this anyway.

She continued, voice comforting as a lullaby. “A disappointing start to the evening, but serendipitous in its way. You see, this benefits you.”

“How?”

“Because…” She turned to me fully, one gloved hand brushing wet hair off my cheek. “I have enough cocoa for two.”

The first sip hit like a chocolate kiss in a cup: sweet, warm, creamy, like every snow day and bedtime story I thought I’d forgotten. It coated my tongue, thick chocolate soaked in cream. My eyes fluttered shut without meaning to, and for a moment I wasn’t a stupid emotional mess in the rain. I was safe, small, and wanted, wanted by someone bigger and better than me.

I licked my lips, practically dazed by how lovely the drink was, and risked a look into her emerald eyes. The way she watched me drink made funny things happen in my heart and between my legs. She seemed to be waiting for me to say something, so I finally came out with, “This is…literally the greatest thing that’s happened to me my entire young-adult life.” I paused. “Which has lasted an entire day, so far.”

“Tragic,” she said, sipping. Then, with terrifying gentleness: “Tell me everything.”

“I’m failing school,” I said, after three sips of the cocoa and zero seconds of resistance. “I have no friends. And my mom hates me for being gay. She doesn’t want me to be a ‘man-hating dyke’. Her words.”

“This is terrible.” She inclined her head as she tilted her teacup.

“…and tonight, I got kicked out of a party that I wasn’t technically invited to in the first place.” I studied the steam that rose from my cup.

“Let me guess. You wore that delicious little costume, hoping someone would notice the lovely girl under the greasepaint and fishnets.”

I blinked. “I… what?”

She plucked at my jacket. “And yet, despite every effort, no one even nibbled.” Her gloved hand lingered just a moment too long, nearly a millimeter from my right breast. “That’s terrible, isn’t it?”

“I’m not usually like this,” I whispered. “I don’t… talk to strangers. Like, ever.”

“But I’m not a stranger,” she said, eyes glinting. “Not any more. My name is Clarissa Ashcroft. I was ghosted tonight by a bitch with no self-respect. And I’m the kind of woman who will take advantage of an opportunity, especially when she’s beautiful and lonely. Hold still.”

Words fumbled on my tongue as, with exquisite calm, she slipped a hand into her blouse and produced a silk handkerchief from between her breasts. I felt its warmth when she wiped my cheek. “There. I knew there was a pretty face under all that ruin.”

I felt my face grow hot. “I’m not pretty…”

“Don’t make me break out synonyms, child. My vocabulary is quite extensive, and we would be shivering here all evening.”

Then Clarissa… Miss Ashcroft rose with the elegance of someone who’d just finished hosting a gala, instead of consoling a would-be goth-girl going through puberty meltdown on a rain-soaked bench. She extended her hand like I was royalty. “Ordinarily, one should frown upon the notion of getting into the vehicle of a stranger one has just met. However, at this moment, I must insist you do just that.”

I blinked.

This wasn’t the 20th century. Even kids younger than me had phones and the internet and ways to get around the parental locks and age restrictions on all of it. I’d never had so much as a first date, but even I understood this situation. I knew what she was insisting on.

I was getting picked up.

What the hell?

I literally had nothing left to lose but my clothes. And my life, I figured, but that wasn’t such a big deal. “Do you… live far from here?”

Her smile curved, slow and knowing. “Not at all. I live on Lollipop Lane.”

My brain went bluescreen.

Every whispered rumor, every overheard bit of gossip, every NSFW Reddit thread involving the phrase, “Has anyone actually BEEN to Lollipop Lane?” came roaring through my mind.

Words flashed in front of my eyes: Incest. Underage girl pets. Lover. Lesbian. Sister. Mommy. Precious little daughter. Daughter. DAUGHTER.

I threw all sense of caution directly into the nearest metaphorical dumpster and placed my hand in hers. Even wearing gloves, her grip was warm.

We walked together, Miss Ashcroft’s umbrella sheltering us both. Halfway to her car – of course it was a vintage black sedan that looked like it might’ve been purloined from a noir film – I did something thrilling and very much not me.

I slipped an arm around her waist, tentative at first, then bolder. My fingers drifted lower, stopping right on the curve of her surprisingly firm backside, the fabric of her coat cool and immaculate beneath my palm. “Thank you,” I said, speaking softly.

Her step didn’t falter, but her emerald eyes cut to me, flashing. She purred. A slow, rich purr, like something feline and amused and vaguely carnivorous. The sound of someone deeply pleased, perhaps mildly aroused by being touched without having given permission.

I looked down and saw that Miss Ashcroft’s coat had shifted open just enough at the collar, the delicate silk of her blouse clinging to her skin, sheer and damp with rain. And there, visible in the soft sway of movement and light, was the dark, unmistakable outline of a bare nipple, taut and firm, unapologetically present without the cup of a brassiere to hide behind.

It could have something to do with the cold rain. But I knew it didn’t.

She said nothing more.

And neither did I.

But my hand stayed where it was, and hers never moved to stop me.

On to Chapter Two!

A Series of Erotic Interviews with Highly Sexed Women, Chapter 1

  • Posted on December 10, 2025 at 4:03 pm

Note from JetBoy: As you probably know, this story’s author is the current partner of Lisa, widow of our late and much-missed site co-founder Cheryl Taggert. Suzanne was inspired to write this story by the third part of Cheryl’s erotic magnum opus “I Was the Daughter of a Porn Star,” in which the titular character (also named Cheryl, for some mysterious reason) interviews a series of women and girls who became sexually active at an early age. The basic concept of this new work may have come from Cheryl, but Suzanne brings her own distinctive approach to the idea, and it more than deserves to stand on its own. Do enjoy.

by Suzy Freeman

I am Suzanne Freeman, a PhD candidate conducting research into the sexual development of young girls. My focus is on interviewing women who have admitted to having a strong sex urge and who began to enjoy sexual encounters of a lesbian nature at an early age. I have chosen to limit my study to lesbian encounters in order to determine if a strong libido is more likely to lead young girls to seek out and indulge in sexual exploration with other girls.

For the sake of clarity and understanding, I wish to share two crucial details about myself. First, I was myself a child with a strong sex drive, a factor that led me to take on this study in the first place. Second, while I did not have sexual encounters with adults as a child, I often fantasized about such encounters once I began to have self-induced orgasms at age seven. And even then, all my fantasies revolved around other females.

***

Opening statement: The following is from the interview portion of my PhD dissertation on the sexual development of young girls. Once all of the interview material has been shared, I will end with my findings and conclusions.

My first subject is Millie, age thirty-two. Like all my interview subjects, her last name has been withheld for reasons of privacy. She is one of several subjects chosen from over seventy respondents to a request for volunteers to be interviewed about their sexual history. All respondents have admitted to considering themselves as having a stronger-than-normal sex drive. The evaluation of each subject’s level of libido was left up to the subjects themselves, since it is this belief in a robust sexual appetite that drives the focus of my research. Each potential subject was sent an initial questionnaire, and the interviewees were chosen based on their responses. Those who were the most descriptive and straightforward were far more likely to be chosen to participate.

Note: For the purposes of reading the following, “Q” indicates a question asked of the subject or a statement I made to her. “A” refers to the answer or response provided. At times when the subject is relating a story directly in the form of conversation and description, the format moves into more of a storytelling form, with dialogue and the descriptions related. This is a verbatim transcription of what was said in the various interviews. 

***

Q: Hello, Millie. How are you doing today?

A: Other than horny, as usual? I’m fine. (Millie smiles at me. Is she flirting? I suspect that this is the case)

Q: Millie, you’ve admitted to having a strong sex drive, something you became aware of at an early age. Would you care to tell us about the first sexual feelings you remember having?

A: Sure. I was very little – five years old, actually – and one day, my mother ran a bath for me. She undressed me and I climbed in. She let me play around in the water for a little while, then took a washcloth, soaped it up and began to wash me all over. I don’t really remember most of the bath, but then she started washing me between the legs; my pussy. She called it my kitty back then. I noticed right away that the washcloth felt very nice against me. She also washed by butt crack, and it felt really good there, too. I always loved it when Mom bathed me, but this was the first time she spent so much time on my private places.

Anyway, once she was done washing me, I wanted to stay in the tub and play some more, so Mom ran some more hot water into the tub to warm it up and left me on my own for a few minutes. When she was gone from the room, I picked up the washcloth and began using it to rub my kitty. I had no idea this had anything to do with sex, in fact, I didn’t even know what sex was. All I knew was I really, really liked what Mom did to me. So I ground that wet flannel into my pussy until those wonderful feelings came back, even better than before. Then I reached down further and did the same thing to my butthole.

After a little while, Mom came back into the bathroom to get me out of the tub and caught me playing with myself. I remember she stood there a moment, watching me with this, well, surprised look on her face. Now, I realize it was more than just surprise she was feeling. It was, what’s the word I want… interested, I guess. She sure seemed to enjoy watching me. In fact, when I stopped, Mom said I could keep going if I wanted to.

I remember smiling at her and saying how it felt good on my kitty, rubbing it with the washcloth like I was. Mom said she knew what I meant, that she liked to rub her kitty too. Soon as she said that, I remember thinking how much I’d like to see my mother touch herself, but I was much too shy to say so.

Anyway, I sat back in the tub and kept rubbing myself with the washcloth with Mom watching me. Finally, she pulled down her shorts and panties, put the lid of the toilet down and sat, telling me she was going to rub her kitty some too, if I was okay with that. Of course, I told her that was fine, and she reached down and started touching between her legs while watching me do the same.

Again, I had no idea this had anything to do with sex. I just knew it felt good, so I assumed my mother liked it, too. Sure, I enjoyed seeing Mom doing it, though to me it was more interesting than arousing. Of course, she was getting one hell of a thrill watching me masturbate, though I had no way of knowing that.

The washcloth was starting to feel scratchy down there, so I told Mom I needed to stop. When I explained why, she told me to soap my hands up and wash myself that way. It felt wonderful, even better than before, so I got right back into rubbing my kitty.

Before very long, Mom began to shiver and moan, a look on her face like she was in pain. It scared me at first, but she was quick to tell me not to worry, that what was happening to her was really, really good, and I shouldn’t stop what I was doing, so I didn’t.

Once Mom finished coming, I still had no idea what had happened, so she explained about how women and girls could give themselves wonderful feelings when they touched “down there,” like I was doing right then. I told her I knew that, ‘cause I was still rubbing my kitty, after all… but Mom said I didn’t know, not really. She said what I felt right then was like getting one small spoonful of ice cream, but what just happened to her was getting a big bowl of ice cream with hot fudge on top. She said that big, wonderful sensation was called an orgasm.

Naturally, I wanted to have that special feeling, so I asked her how I could make it happen. She told me it was hard for someone my age, because it can take a long time and your hand gets tired of rubbing. Then Mom said she had an idea. What if she touched my kitty herself until I had an orgasm? Did I want to give that a try? Of course, I said yes!

Q: So what happened then?

A: I got out of the tub and Mom dried me off. She said I might as well stay naked. So she led me down the hall to her room and got me to lay down on the bed. My little sister was off taking her nap, and my dad was at work.

Q: You have a sister?

A: Yes. Two, actually, but I only had one when I was that age.

Q: Were they also interested in sex at an early age?

A: Yes. Very much so.

Q: We can talk about that in a moment. What did your mother do to bring you to orgasm?

A: First she touched my clit, very gently. Then she bent down and put her mouth on me, on my pussy. I was startled at first – I mean, that’s where I peed from! But she started to lick me, her tongue felt so amazing that I never got the chance to be grossed out. It was so good… a lot better than the washcloth or my soapy hand.

Q: And you came?

A: Yes. It took a little while, but I did. And it was colossal. The sensations were so big that it almost scared me, like I might explode. Once I caught my breath, Mom asked me if she was right when she compared the feeling of just touching myself with a genuine orgasm. You know, the spoonful of ice cream versus the big bowl. And I told her, yes, she was right. .

Q: Did your mother ever do anything else sexual with you?

A: Oh, my, yes. We would get together to make love at least several times a week.

Q: Does that mean you performed sex acts on your mother? Or was it just her pleasuring you?

A: Our second time together, she asked if I would use my mouth on her. I was nervous, yeah, but I also wanted to make her happy, so I tried it. The taste of her cunt was odd to me at first, but I got to like it right away. And before you ask… yes, I did make my mother come.

We were snuggling together afterwards, and that’s when Mom taught me how to kiss. Real kisses, with our tongues. I really liked doing that!

Then she told me what we were really doing – making love. I thought it was just us doing something nice for each other… but really, it was sex. I had a little trouble wrapping my head around that, the idea of me and Mom being like, y’know, girlfriends. But I wanted to keep doing those things with her, so I didn’t let it bother me. I decided I liked being my mother’s lover.

Q: You say your sisters have strong libidos as well, and it showed up early in life. Did your mother get sexual with them, too?

A: Absolutely! She initiated them as well, starting when they were around the same age I was for my first time. All four of us are lovers to this day. My father died of a heart attack four years ago, and he never did find out about us. Or if he did, he never let on.

My sisters have children, as do I, and we have initiated our children into a life of incest. My nieces’ fathers are clueless, though my husband is also involved in very mild sex play with our daughters. But you did tell me you were only interested in my lesbian experiences.

Q: Yes, I’m limiting these interviews to a discussion of lesbian sex and female masturbation. What are the ages of your sisters?

A: Well, my mother was very young when she had me, only seventeen. So she was twenty-one, maybe twenty-two when we became intimate. My father was fifteen years older than Mom. My sisters are now thirty and twenty-five. Randi, the oldest, is married with two daughters, Lori and Riley. Cassie, the baby of the family, is divorced, but has a daughter named Melinda.

Q: All girls! How wonderful!

A: Yes. We feel very fortunate.

Q: Just one question about your husband: does he have penetrative sex with your daughters?

A: Absolutely not. Touching and oral, nothing more.

Q: How old are your daughters?

A: Emily is twelve, Piper is nine.

Q: And your nieces?

A: Lori is eleven, and Riley is nine. Cassie’s daughter is six.

Q: Do your daughters and nieces also have sex with your mother, their grandmother?

A: Of course. And with each other as well. Piper and Riley are only one month apart in age, so they act more like twins than cousins. They want to get married one day; isn’t that sweet?

Q: It is. I’d love to see that happen. How old were you the first time you had sex with someone outside your family?

A: I was eleven. It was my best friend, Alex, short for Alexandra. No, my first sex was NOT with a boy.

Q: Can you tell me about it?

A: Well, we had talked about sex a lot, of course, being eleven. It started out as discussing cute boys we knew, which actors and singers we crushed on. That sort of thing. Obviously, I couldn’t talk about the sex I was having with my mother and sisters, but I did start mentioning girls and women I thought were hot. You know, to find out if Alex could also be into girls. I hadn’t been able to figure that out one way or the other. It frustrated me, because I was crushing on her in a big way by then.

One night, her mom let her sleep over at my house, and well, that’s when things changed between us. You might say our relationship took an immediate turn for the better.

Q: Please tell me about it.

(Note: From here, I will relate the story as Millie told it as a story and not an interview, except where I ask the occasional question.)

The first time we had a sleepover, Alex stayed at my house. My mother was delighted. She thought I should have at least one girlfriend of my own, a girl I wasn’t related to. Oh, and if we did end up fooling around, Mom would want me to give her all the details later while we both masturbated.

Both my sisters also had crushes on Alex, but being the oldest, I threatened to paddle their butts if they bothered us during the sleepover. This was MY night. I wasn’t a complete bitch, though; I promised Randi and Cassie that I’d go down on them the next day. It’s funny, though – once Alex and I were a for-real couple, she was the one who suggested having fun with my sisters, once I told her I’d had sex with them both. That was one incredible night – I’ll have to tell you about it, some other time.

Okay, sleepover night. We had supper, then me and Alex played video games for a while. When it was time for bed, Mom gave us each a goodnight kiss, then we went upstairs to my room.

“Did you see that? Your mom kissed me. Right on the mouth!”

I shrugged. “She kisses me all the time.”

“Yeah, but you’re her daughter.”

“Well, maybe my mom has the hots for you!” I was teasing, of course, but also not. I knew Mom would  walk over hot coals to get Alex into bed.

She made a face. “Ewww! Don’t be disgusting.”

That irked me, but I let it pass. “I like to take a bath before going to bed. Wanna join me?”

“Sure.” She said it casually, but I could tell the idea had her thinking. We’d never seen each other naked before, and I wondered if she wanted to get a good look at me with my clothes off. Alex had a sister, but she was a lot younger, and that wouldn’t be the same as seeing someone your own age.

We started to undress, then I had a really wild idea.

“Wanna have some fun?” I asked.

She looked at me, and I think she wondered if I was going to ask if she wanted to fool around. She sort of blinked and stared a moment. “How?” she said.

I really did want to do something sexual with Alex, but this wasn’t quite it. My plan was more about getting her to do something daring that involved us getting naked. “We finish taking our clothes off, then run down the hallway to the bathroom?”

Alex frowned. “What’s fun about that?”

I poked her. “Doing it and not getting caught, goofball!”

“Oh! I get it now.” She seemed a little disappointed, as if she’d hoped for more. That’s when I really began to suspect Alex wanted us to be more than friends.

“So what d’ya say? Wanna do it?”

She smiled. “Sure.”

I’d already unbuttoned my shirt. Now I started stripping as fast as I could. “Last one naked has to come back to the room without a towel!”

“Oooohh!” Alex squealed, then wriggled out of her t-shirt. We undressed quickly, though I ended up pretending to fumble with my panties to make it a tie. So I said, “Well, I guess we have to both come back to my room naked.” The way she grinned, I think she knew I’d set that up.

As we stood nude before each other for the first time, I decided to make it obvious that I was checking her out. I looked her up and down, taking in every inch of what she had. Damn, what a cutie she was!

I was thrilled to see Alex doing the same thing. At that age, I hadn’t begun to develop yet, but she seemed to like what she saw, exploring my bare body with her eyes, even lingering on my pussy.

When she did that, I spun around and said, “Don’t forget to check out my butt.”

She giggled as she gave it a good long look, then turned around and said, “Guess you should check out mine, too.”

By then, I was starting to feel seriously horny. I’d been excited earlier, but now I could feel that familiar throbbing between my legs, the kind that made me want to masturbate. Later, Alex told me she was feeling the exact same way. Of course, neither of us said anything about that.

You should know that I didn’t really mind being seen running around the house naked. Our parents had a pretty casual attitude about that kind of thing. I sort of hoped that Mom or my sisters would catch us streaking down the hall. Didn’t happen that way, but it sure was exciting to think about.

After our race to the bathroom, we shared a laugh, then got in the bathtub together. While we washed ourselves, I decided to tell Alex about the time I figured out how nice the washcloth felt between my legs and the fun that led to.

When I described how I’d discovered the nice feelings I could get from rubbing myself “down there,” Alex  listened carefully. She was squirming around some, enough so I knew she was turned on.

When I had finished, I asked her, “Have you ever made yourself feel good like that?”

“You mean masturbation?” she said.

She knew the word! “Yeah.”

“How’d you find out about it?”

Alex gave a little shrug. “I’m not sure. Seems like I’ve always known.”

“What’s the first time you did it just ‘cause it felt good?”

“I was in bed, lying on my stomach reading with a pillow between my legs. I was sort of shifting around, trying to get comfy, and I started wondering why it felt so good. I wasn’t actually, like, masturbating. Not yet. Heck, I didn’t even know what masturbation was. All I knew was it felt good to rub myself on my pillow.”

“Okay, so when was your first orgasm?”

She blushed. “I’d rather not say.”

That threw me off. “Well… were you alone?”

“Sorry, but I can’t tell you. It’s a secret.”

That’s when it hit me. Neither of us were alone for our first orgasms. I was with Mom, but who was the first to make Alex come?

“Then you were with someone else, huh?” I said, almost willing to tell her about me and my mother to get the truth from her.

“Please don’t ask me about that, Millie!” she said. “It’s making me uncomfortable.”

I could see she really didn’t want to tell me anything, so I dropped the subject. To this day, I have no idea who gave Alex her first orgasm. Then again, she never did find out about me and Mom. It sort of became a forbidden topic between us. I’ve often wondered if it had been her mother. Looking back, I’m fairly certain it was. She and her mom were very close, just like Mom and I were and still are. It’s too bad we never discussed it.

As we got out of the tub, there was a quick knock on the bathroom door, then it swung open. It was my mom. As usual, she hadn’t waited for an invitation to enter. I just stood there, but Alex sort of shrieked and covered herself.

Mom looked at her and smiled. “Honey, we’re all girls here. You don’t have anything I haven’t seen before.” She looked at me and said, “Exactly like Millie,.” then gave me a pat on the bottom.

“You’re so silly, Mom,” I said, giggling. I wanted to put Alex at ease, show her I was fine with being nude around my mother.

I guess it worked, because Alex took a deep breath and dropped both hands to reveal her body. To Mom’s credit, she didn’t ogle my friend, just took in with a glance and said, “Sorry to interrupt, girls. I’m giving Randi a bath and need the baby shampoo.” With that, she moved to the tub, retrieved the bottle of shampoo and made a quiet exit, giving Alex a casual glance and a smile along the way.

Of course, Mom only wanted a good look at Alex naked. There was already a big bottle of baby shampoo in the master bathroom, and she never bathed Randi this late at night. I was already picturing her in bed later that night, rubbing one out to the image of a naked Alex.

After she’d left, I grabbed a towel and said, “Here. I’ll dry your back, then you can dry mine.”

“Okay,” she said with a grin, my mother’s unannounced visit already forgotten.

As I dried Alex, I said, “Your butt is your backside, right? So I’ll dry that, too.” Reaching down, I spent the next full minute massaging her ass, with nothing but the towel between us. I noticed her eyes close, and she began to sway a bit, so I knew my touches were very much appreciated. I wondered if my friend and I would be enjoying any other special touches that evening..

I turned around, presenting my back to Alex, and she got the hint right away. She spent at least as much time drying my butt as I’d taken on hers. It felt wonderful, and my pussy had started to drip before she was done. It seemed to really enjoy touching my butt, even with the towel between her hands and my ass.

We raced each other back to my room, and when the door was shut behind us, I said, “Listen. I hope this doesn’t bother you, but I always sleep naked.”

Her eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yeah. I don’t like pajamas, and I hate the way panties get wedged in my butt crack. Do you mind?”

She shook her head. “No. Not at all.”

“You ever sleep nude?”

“Not all the way through the night. But it’s okay if you want to.”

“Cool!” I crawled onto the bed, taking my time with it so Alex could get a good look at my pussy and butthole, then slipped beneath the covers.

She climbed into bed beside me. “You mind if I sleep naked, too?”

“Heck, no!” I said. “It’s more fun with two.”

We lay there, talking about boys we liked, and soon my pussy was screaming for attention. Alex was very open about what she’d like to do to this one boy in our class, which played havoc with our ability to fall asleep.

I had a full bed, not a queen size, so our bodies were close enough to touch, which only got me more stirred up. I finally turned onto my side after telling Alex goodnight, and lay there, knowing damn well I wouldn’t get a wink of sleep unless I had an orgasm.

Alex settled in, and we lay side by side, our butts barely touching. I tried to ignore the thrill it gave me to have her cute ass against mine, wondering if she felt the same way.

Time passed, about half an hour. I wondered if Alex was asleep. That’s when I felt her move, and realized she was still awake.

She moved again. Not much, but enough. Then again. Oh, wow, Alex was masturbating!

As you can imagine, I was beside myself with excitement. My pussy was on fire, but I held back for a minute, waiting for Alex to get herself too keyed up to stop when I joined in.

It didn’t take long. Her breath was getting louder, and it was obvious she was doing her utmost to get off. I could actually hear the sounds of her fingers as they worked the slick folds.

It was time. I reached down to my own slit and began playing with myself. She just kept going, even when I moaned and whimpered, letting her know that, yeah, I was into this.

Alex started making sounds of pleasure herself, so I knew we’d passed the point of no return. So I sat up and said, “Listen, I know what you’re doing, and you know what I’m doing… so we might as well be open about it.” Then I switched on my bedside lamp.

She blinked at me in the light. I guess she was waiting to see what I was up to. Giving her a big grin, I said, “Wanna do it with me? We can watch each other.”

She grinned back and said, “Sure.”

I pushed the covers completely off the bed, lay down and got back to masturbating. Alex looked on for a moment, then stretched out next to me and did the same.

We fingered ourselves for a minute or so, then I realized we’d have a much better view if we weren’t on our backs.

“Here, sit up,” I told her. She did, and I shoved a pillow behind her back, then mine. We settled in and returned to touching ourselves.

MUCH better. Now we each had a front row seat to the action. Me and Alex could easily see our busy hands as we stroked, massaged and groped our juicy cunts.

Soon our fingers were a blur. We’d been touching ourselves for at least five minutes before I spoke up, and desperately needed to come. God, watching Alex masturbate was so incredibly hot. I couldn’t wait to see her get off!

Her orgasm hit first, and I watched in awe as my friend’s body spasmed and shook with the intensity of it. Moments later, it was her turn to see me come – and I don’t mind telling you that I gave Alex a hell of a good show, shaking the bed with the force of my release.

We lay back down together, catching our breath and mopping the sweat from our foreheads. Then we went into a giggle-fest before coming together in a hug. Looking back, I think we lost it because of the sheer delight we felt, knowing that we both wanted this, and knowing it would almost certainly happen again. Those were giggles of relief in more ways than one.

***

Q: Did the two of you do more?

A: Not that night, but we masturbated together often after that. We’d have contests to see who could come first and all that. Before long, we moved on to touching each other.

Q: Did you ever engage in oral sex with Alex?

A: Absolutely. It was maybe two months after that first time. It became a thing where we’d log on the internet and watch porn while fingering each other. Neither of our moms put blockers on our computers, so we could go to any website we liked.

Anyway, one night when Alex was sleeping over at my house, I logged on and opened Pornhub. We had only watched hetero sex before that night, but I really wanted to sneak in something with lesbian content, so I clicked on a video with a guy and two girls.

Oh, man, when the girls started kissing and touching each other, it felt like the temperature in my room went up ten degrees! We watched that for a few minutes. Finally, Alex suggested I find one with only girls in it.

I told her, “Sure, we can do that,” but inside I was going YES!! My heart was racing like mad because I sort of suspected where watching lesbians fuck would lead us, and I was right.

In the very first clip we watched, two girls did oral with each other. Alex couldn’t look me in the eye when she said, “Have you ever thought about us doing that?”

I looked at her and replied, “Lots of times.” Then I told her the truth, how I wanted to that first time we masturbated for each other, and every other time since then.

Alex burst into laughter. “Oh, God, me too.” Like me, she wanted to try oral that first time, too, but was scared to suggest it.

We ended up in a sixty-nine. She sure didn’t seem like a novice at it, either, so I figured Alex had done it before with whoever it was she had messed around with the first time she came. Like I said, I never did find out who that was.

***

Closing Statement: At this point, we ended this session, making plans to meet again. Millie said she would prefer something less public for next time, so we agreed to meet at my apartment for Session 2/Millie.

As a further note to Session 1 of the interview, we did not do anything sexual with each other that first time. However, I did go home and masturbate after we parted. I later found out that Millie actually drove into a deserted corner of a shopping center’s parking deck and got herself off before driving home and having sex with her two daughters. Needless to say, Millie and I were looking forward to our upcoming session. This is, after all, a study of the female sex drive.

Session2/Millie will be submitted in the coming days.

On to Chapter Two!

The Evil That Men Do, Chapter 7

  • Posted on December 5, 2025 at 4:01 pm

The Story Thus Far

Chapter One: Mallory Kalvornek and her lover Julie Hanson have returned to Bronning, Minnesota, for the first time in years to catch up with friends and family. Meanwhile, their old friend (and occasional sex partner) paramedic Nettie Hastings fights to save a life, her lover Hannah drops by with an unexpected surprise, Terry Wilder grapples with writer’s block… and two little girls living in a trailer park named Heather and Gina are being carefully observed by a hidden stranger.

Chapter Two: Mallory and Julie get together at Nettie’s home with Nettie and her lover Hannah, Nettie’s friend Terry Wilder, Terry’s teen daughter Halee, and Mallory and Julie’s friend (and occasional sex partner) Cindy. Gossip is exchanged, memories shared, and an unexpected attraction between Mallory and Terry Wilder reveals itself. Meanwhile, the mother of the two trailer park girls Heather and Gina goes out for a night on the town, oblivious to the presence of the man spying on her home.

Chapter Three: At Nettie’s place, Nettie and Hannah leave the others to indulge in a bit of romantic pleasure, while Julie and her old friend Cindy get it on with Terry’s teen daughter Halee. As for Mallory, she has repaired to Terry’s place for one of her occasional bouts of heterosexual action. Appetites are indulged, confidences shared. Meanwhile, Heather and Gina are abducted from their trailer home by a mysterious and very scary man.

Chapter Four: At Nettie’s place, four women and Halee Wilder greet the morning after an evening of lesbian abandon. Later that day, Mallory rejoins Julie, Nettie, Cindy and Hannah for a day of fishing. Halee returns home and spends the day upgrading her internet in preparation for promised to be a fun night of video chat sex with her girlfriend Bethany. Meanwhile, Grace and Heather are in the custody of the mysterious man, who seems to takes delight in terrorizing them.

Chapter Five: After their day of fishing, Nettie, Julie, Cindy, Mallory & Hannah engage in a five-woman sexfest inside a tent… and with the use of Cindy’s phone, their old friend and occasional bedmate Emma attends the orgy virtually. In the midst of their abandon, Nettie has a weird, vague memory flashback that leaves her shaken, but she conceals it from the others. Back home, Halee and her new love interest Bethany (Hannah’s daughter) are having long-distance sex via their laptops. 

Chapter Six: Nettie has a heart-to-heart with Hannah about her personal demons. Later, she gets a call from Agent Bridgett Ramscone, who has an unsettling request: for Nettie to go through the documentation of her own childhood kidnapping — and the murder of her sister — as a possible way to gain insight into the abduction of Heather and Gina (who are still being emotionally abused by their kidnapper, but are also taking steps to escape). Nettie is shaken, but agrees to do what she can. 

For a list of the characters from the story you are now reading, visit this page. 

For a list of the characters from the previous two stories that you will encounter here as well, visit this page.

And now, dear readers, we make our way into the next installment. Read on…

by Rachael Yukey

So if you want to know 
Where I’ve been hiding all these years
Follow the tears

Heaven and Hell, 2009

“Nettie. Nettie!” 

A poke in her side. Anna swimming into hazy focus, the bruise on her cheek and the gash on her forehead standing out in sharp relief. A sick simultaneous feeling of burning heat and shivering cold. Huddled together on a moldy carpet, backs propped against the ruins of a cupboard. Wrapped in the blankets their captor had tossed at them, blankets that smelled of poo or maybe worse, warming their hands over a barely-working propane heater. Somewhere in the back of a fever-shrouded mind, the knowledge they’d both be frozen like ice statues if it wasn’t for that pathetic little heater.

“Nettie, you’ve got to wake up.”

“Hurts—”

“The doctor said you can’t lie down too much, remember?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Nettie, come ON.”

With a groan, the dark-haired girl shifts herself to a more upright sitting posture. She gulps in a lungful of air, the breath rattling audibly in her chest, and then doubles over in an agonized fit of coughing, lungs and throat aflame.

“Where’s Creepface?” she gasps.

“I dunno.” Anna’s face is pale, drawn. “I thought I heard him outside talking to someone a while ago, some lady. But no one came in.”

“Anna—” 

“What?”

“I dunno.” Whatever she’d begun to say was already gone, fluttering at the edge of her subconscious and vanishing into the ether. So cold—so hard to think.

“Nettie, we have to get out of here.”

“To where?”

“I don’t know! I don’t even know where we are, and I know the door is locked. But you need to go back to the doctor. And he’s going to keep hurting us, Nettie, I don’t think—” 

Tears swim in Anna’s eyes, but Nettie sees it through a foggy haze, as if from far away. Fading, focusing, fading—Anna’s voice again—

“Nettie! Nettie, oh God please wake up—”

“Wake up, damn you.”

Nettie was startled into consciousness by the sound of her own voice. Every muscle was rigid, her knuckles pressed against eyelids screwed tightly shut. Dropping her hands to the arms of her chair, she released her breath and opened her eyes.

The imagery on her laptop screen had not changed. Anna’s still, pale face, glazed-over eyes staring sightlessly to the heavens. A deep laceration on the upper right forehead, a fading contusion on the left cheek. A fresh-looking bruise to the left mandible, which was angulated slightly, clearly displaced—when had that happened?

Flipping the laptop screen closed, Nettie reached for her phone.

Bridgett picked up on the first ring. “Got something, Nettie?”

“There was a second.”

“An accomplice, you mean?”

“Yeah. Looking at those pics and reading the case report did bring back a few things. We never had eyes on her, at least I didn’t, but Anna and I both heard Brentshaw talking to a woman, a couple of times. I remember hearing them talking from another room of the trailer, and Anna telling me about hearing them outside.”

“How sure are you?”

Nettie closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger. “I can’t say it’s a hundred percent. I was damn sick, Bridgett. I have memories of just fading in and out, talking to Anna one second and her screaming at me to wake up the next. Literally anything I remember has a very decent chance of just being a goddamn fever dream. But this—it seems fairly clear.”

Shifting in the chair, she pulled herself upright to soothe her aching back. “Besides, even if there was an accomplice, I don’t know that we can even begin to guess who it might have been. This is a very cold trail, Bridgett.”

“I know it. Anything else?”

“No memories in particular, but a few observations about the case report details. I doubt like hell it’s anything you or the FBI people haven’t thought of.”

“I’d like to hear it anyway.”

“So—Anna and I were found in an abandoned trailer three miles deep in the woods, roughly fifteen miles from home. Let’s say we double that; call the radius thirty miles. I mean, the perp isn’t gonna want to go too far down the highway with two captive girls in his vehicle. He gets pulled over, he’s fucked.”

“That’s the assumption we’ve been operating under,” Bridgett agreed. “Most people have no idea what a thirty mile radius even means in terms of ground to cover. It already borders on unmanageable; anything bigger is just hopeless. But where are you going with this?”

“Well, the area we’re looking at now is just as full of back pastures, untillable woodlands, abandoned iron mines, you name it. Junk, debris, and unused dwellings all over hell and gone. Is there even a procedure for trying to investigate all the possibilities?”

Bridgett gave an audible sigh. “Not a good one. The FBI is using satellite imagery to try and narrow down potential sites, with an eye towards anything that gives any indication of having been accessed recently. Obviously that’s so far from perfect it’s laughable; just for starters we have no idea how many sites might be completely obscured by tree cover. But there’s no way we can stomp that much ground. Let’s add to that the fact that every site we can view is on someone’s land. It’s not reasonable to ask for warrants to investigate every single possibility. There has to be some kind of process of elimination, and anything they pick is going to be arbitrary to an extent.”

Nettie chewed on the inside of her cheek. “What about that trailer park they were taken from? Forbes, Minnesota—it’s like the ghetto comes to fairyland from what I can see. A mobile home park literally in the middle of the pine forest, a fair number of vacant lots, not a single trailer newer than the eighties, half of them unoccupied—from the satellite photos in the case file, I can see two bare trailer frames that no one ever bothered to remove from the lots. Can I assume all the empty trailers have been searched, not to mention the vacant house over by that scrapheap half a mile away?

“That all got checked within the first few hours, Nettie.”

“Dammit. I got nothing, Bridgett. You could check out any female relatives or associates of Brentshaw’s, but I don’t think it’s anything you can hang your hat on.”

“No, not really.” Bridgett’s voice was contemplative. “Let’s switch gears for a second. Something I always found interesting associated with your abduction: you were found because a 911 call from a cellphone was traced to your location. The caller never spoke, but the line stayed open for a while and the operator could hear muffled voices, along with various other noises she couldn’t identify. Do you remember anything about that?”

Nettie hesitated. Ever since she’d read that part of her case file, there had been something drifting around her subconscious, a monster lurking behind her temples seeking its way into the sun. Finally she took a deep breath. “I didn’t know about it till I read the file just now. But reading it triggered something; I’m just not sure what. It’s almost like—like—this is gonna sound dumb. But it’s like something my subconscious doesn’t want me to know about. Does that make any sense at all?”

“More than you might think. But that aside, cell phones were just starting to become common in those days, and smartphones were barely a thing. The account was one of those cheap Nokia phones with the prepaid plans they used to sell at WalMart, and the phone was never found. The only reason the call wasn’t dismissed as a prank and hung up on is because there were kids missing, and the 911 operators were on the alert for anything unusual. The lady who took the call sent it up the chain instead of hanging up and having another jelly donut, which is damn near miraculous. Otherwise, you’d never have been located.”

Nettie’s fingers drummed on the arm of her chair. “That’s what I got out of reading it. We weren’t found because some smart agent made the right deductions. Brentshaw must have got careless, left his burner phone lying around, then Anna or I got hold of it and managed to get a call in. Obviously not something we can duplicate. Dammit.” She realized that her voice was becoming strident, and drew in a steadying breath.

“Nettie.” Bridgett’s voice was gentle but firm. “Do not work yourself into a state over this. The odds aren’t in our favor here, and we knew that going in. I contacted you because we had to try. How long have you been staring at those files now?”

Nettie glanced at her watch. “Five hours, give or take.”

“Put ‘em down. That’s a direct order from your supervising agent. Get yourself a meal and a hot bath, and look at them again in the morning.”

“Bridgett, those girls are still out there—”

“And you’re not going to glean anything from those files that will help them in your current state. Hell, the odds are against you coming up with anything at all, and we both know it. Get some rest, and then start fresh.”

Nettie rubbed her eyes. They felt gritty; overused. “All right, you win. If I think of anything else, I’ll give you a shout.”

“Sounds good. And I’ll pass what you said about a female accomplice to the FBI people. Who knows, that might even be the lead we’re looking for.” She didn’t sound optimistic.

***

An hour later Nettie lay on her couch, hair still damp from the shower, an untied bathrobe wrapped around her otherwise nude frame. I have a real house now, with a way better bed—and my go-to spot is still on the couch, naked, with music blasting. Her lips curled upward in a weary smile. Metal from a bygone age blared forth from the speakers, Black Sabbath circa 1972. Ozzy Osbourne declaring that try your hardest, you’ll still be a loser.

The tidal wave of memories from that year in Dickson washed over her again, but this time she let it rush past, allowing the undisciplined swirls and eddies of random imagery to sweep across her consciousness, enough to momentarily blot out the present.

But maybe not so random. There was a focal point, and it was Black Sabbath, her gateway drug to the world of all things heavy. An afternoon in the Hansons’ living room, Mallory Kalvornek over to spend the night, practicing songs for her student band on Uncle Jason’s keyboard. One of them was a Sabbath tune, wasn’t it? Yes—”Computer God”! A later, leaner, more muscular Sabbath, with Ronnie James Dio on vocals. She’d asked to hear the song again, and Mallory had played the whole album for her. Dehumanizer. Fucking beast of a record.

“Wow, Jamie. You sure have a lot of Black Sabbath records.” The solemn dark-haired girl stands before a shelf full of vinyl, finger tracing the spines. 

“I have more on CD.” The lanky teenager, her chestnut hair swept back in a careless ponytail, moves to a lazy-susan media shelf, turns it, and splays her fingers across a half-dozen jewel cases. “There are a few from the 90s that were never released on vinyl, and a couple others I just haven’t been able to find in record stores. But sooner or later vinyl’s going to make a comeback, and a bunch of stuff will come out then. Wait and see.”

“I like Dehumanizer a lot,” says Nettie. “That singer they have—uh, what’s his name?”

Jamie giggles. “It’s not that simple. Ronnie James Dio wasn’t their only singer. He’s not even the first! That was Ozzy Osbourne. Then—”

“Yeah, you played one of his records for me!” Nettie blurts.

“One of his solo albums, sure. But he started out in Sabbath. He was on the first, uh, eight albums I think. Then they got Dio for a couple albums in the early eighties. Dehumanizer is actually from the second time he was in the band, in the nineties. They recorded with like three other singers in between.”

“That’s just freakin’ complicated,” Julie Hanson puts in. She and Mallory are nestled on the love seat against the opposite wall of Jamie’s attic bedroom, arms wrapped around each other.

Jamie tosses an amused glance over her shoulder. “If you think that’s whacked out, ask me about Deep Purple some time.” Her attention returns to the girl by her side. “Wanna hear some of it?” 

Nettie nods her head vigorously. “Sure!”

“Okay—” Jamie pulls a record from the shelf, shaking the inner sleeve carefully from the cardboard jacket. “Black Sabbath Volume Four. It’s from 1972, and I think it’s the best one with Ozzy.” She holds out the sleeve, record still contained within, an inviting smile on her face. “C’mere, Nettie. I’ll talk you through putting it on.”

As the dark, brooding strains of the opening track permeate the room, Nettie and Jamie turn towards the love seat, two sets of eyebrows arching at the sight of Julie and Mallory locked in a passionate kiss, each with a hand down the front of the other’s pants. 

Jamie’s eyes widen in alarm, darting to Nettie and back again. “Hey, whoa, girls, it’s not just—”

Mallory disengages her mouth from Julie’s, a shuddering exhalation exploding from her at what looks to be a truly intense wave of pleasure. “Relax,” she murmurs. “She’s been initiated. Nettie, why don’t you take Jamie over to the bed and show her what we taught you?” 

The dark-haired girl smiles up at the uncertain teenager at her side and takes her by the hand. The teen hesitates, then allows herself to be led to the bed.

“You’re wrong, Jamie,” mumbled the lightly dozing woman on the couch. “Sabotage is the best Sabbath with Ozzy. But Volume Four is pretty fucking righteous.” In her sleep, Nettie smiled.

***

A noise in the dark. Music, but not the dark, distorted, ominous sludge of Black Sabbath. Carnival sounds, a calliope, or maybe the music blared by the ice cream truck guy—and when did Bronning get a friggin’ ice cream truck?

Phone. It was the goddamn phone. Dragging herself up from the murky depths of deepest slumber, Nettie scrabbled around on the end table, fingers finally closing on the offending device. She forced her eyes to focus on the screen. Hannah.

She swiped the green button. “Hey.” Even the single syllable came out shaky and slurred.

“Oh, honey, were you asleep?”

“No biggie. Christ, what time is it?”

“About seven.”

“PM?” Nettie ventured tentatively.

“Antoinette, are you okay?”

“Yeah, just kinda out of it. I lay down on the couch maybe half an hour ago. Must’ve passed out.”

“Damn, I was hoping it’d been longer than that. Like, maybe you slept all afternoon.”

“Well, that was the plan,” said Nettie. “but Ramscone had a case she wanted me to look at. It ate up a good chunk of the day.”

“I thought you were free to tell them no.”

“Maybe I didn’t want to.” There was an edge to Nettie’s voice.

“Don’t snap at me, Antoinette,” Hannah’s tone was also a bit chilly.

Nettie’s breath whooshed out of her. “Sorry. It’s kind of a shitty case, and it’s time-sensitive. Long story. I’ll probably be working on it some more tomorrow.”

“Don’t you work an ambulance shift tomorrow night?”

“I’m a big girl, Hannah. I’ve got this.”

Hannah blew out her breath audibly, and Nettie cringed. Here you go again. Keep this up, and Hannah will be gone like all the others.

“Hannah, I am so sorry,” she said. “The case I’m working on has me a little upset, is all. It’s not very pleasant. I don’t mean to take it out on you.”

“Can you talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Okay—just promise me you’ll take care of yourself.”

All the old knee-jerk reactions were there; the urge to tell Hannah to mind her own goddamn business was almost overpowering. Nettie suppressed it with a herculean effort. Don’t blow this, you dumb bitch. 

“I promise. And Hannah—I really am sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”

“Mmmmm—I like the sound of that. What’ve you got in mind?”

“Dinner at the best place in Johnstown this coming weekend, followed by some tongue exercises that will blow your mind.”

Hannah snorted laughter. “I’m pretty sure the best restaurant in Johnstown is fucking Applebee’s.”

Nettie laughed too, the tension in her gut easing. “I think we can do a little better than that.”

“It’s a date. Go back to sleep; we’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Yeah. Night, Hannah.”

Rolling off the couch, Nettie stood indecisively for a moment, contemplating whether or not to toss down a couple of drinks before bed. In her mind’s eye she watched the amber liquid pour smoothly into the glass, enjoyed the life-affirming gurgle. Felt the smooth, slow burn down the back of her throat. Wallowed in the fuzzy-minded bliss that followed.

Then her eyes filled with tears. Face it, toots. You’re morphing into a full-blown, five-alarm alcoholic. And you sure as fuck aren’t going to help find those girls waking up tomorrow with a soggy brain. 

Angrily shoving the phone into her pocket, she stalked to her bedroom, slamming the door behind. She could feel herself fading away again almost as soon as her head hit the pillow, then a stray thought jolted her momentarily back awake. Mallory’s right. You have to talk to Hannah. You can’t keep this inside anymore.

Nettie slipped into unconsciousness on a tear-soaked pillow.

***

Heather Dulcey stalks the periphery of their enclosure, pushing experimentally on the aged timber of the walls. Thus far, it’s proven to be far more solid than it looks.

“What’re you doing, Heather?” Gina’s voice is plaintive, but steady for perhaps the first time since they were taken.

“Trying to find a way out.”

“What—what if he comes back and catches you?”

“He’s been gone all afternoon. What are you afraid of, anyhow? That we’ll get in big trouble if he catches us? We’ll get grounded or something? C’mon—help me with this!”

Gina seems to ponder that for a long moment. Then she rises, makes her way to the opposite end of the wall Heather is currently probing, and begins pushing against the siding boards.

***

“There was no reason to call in a goddamn scene flight,” Jason Hanson was saying. He and his wife Lisa lounged in matching recliners, their daughter Victoria taking up the entire loveseat, legs splayed out and back resting against the arm. Julie and Mallory were side by side on the couch.

“So we get out there,” he went on, “and the local firefighters have this thirteen-year-old girl trussed up like a chicken on a backboard. Her parents were off trying to chase down the horse that threw her, instead of tending to their injured kid. Her only complaint was neck pain, and I use the word neck in the loosest possible sense. She was so fat she didn’t have one.”

“At thirteen,” Julie was shaking her head.

“At thirteen,” Jason agreed. “She was so neckless they couldn’t get a C-collar on her.”

“How much do you think she weighed?” Victoria wanted to know. Vicky favored her mother; an oval face framed by hair that would have been light brown, had it not been dyed a flaming shade of pink.

“Oh, she knew it off the top of her head,” said Jason. “Three hundred thirty. She’d had a well-child like two days prior.”

“Ouch,” said Julie. “If I was a horse, I’d probably have thrown her too.”

“So anyway,” Jason went on, “I asked if she knew her weight. She had it right on the tip of her tongue, and then she says: ‘I know, I’m a little chubby, but it’s Covid weight. Everyone put on weight during Covid, right?’”

A chuckle went around the room. “Sounds like that kid put on everyone’s Covid weight,” Julie observed.

Jason sobered. “It’s gotten radically worse just in the decade and a half I’ve been doing this,” he said. “The obese adults are one thing, but it’s the kids that always get me. Where the hell are mom and dad while little princess is stuffing her face with an entire box of snack cakes in one sitting?”

“Working,” said Lisa. “The kids are all latchkey these days.”

Vicky glanced over at Julie. “I’m trying to even imagine what Mom and Dad would do if I started packing it on like that, or if you had.”

“Probably lock up everything in the house that wasn’t a fruit or vegetable,” Julie replied.

Mallory shrugged. “It’s not like there was ever a junk food problem in this house, anyway. Or even a convenience food problem. I remember being amazed at first at how good I ate when I was here. At home we were mostly eating microwavables. Then I come here, and Julie’s dragging me into the kitchen yelling, ‘come help me cook!’”

“You got good at it, too,” Lisa observed.

“So, what about the overweight horse-girl?” Vicky inquired.

“Actually, that was interesting,” said Jason. “I knew right off she didn’t need a thirty thousand dollar helicopter ride; ground transport to a local facility was fine. But once we’re on scene, we can’t leave her with a lower level of care. So we rode to the local hospital with the ground ambulance crew, and had our pilot meet us there.”

“I didn’t know you could do that,” said Mallory.

“Oh, I’ve done it a handful of times. Hell—I did a transfer with Nettie a couple of years ago. She brought a guy from a dinky local hospital to an airfield and—well, long story, but there were complications that made air transport a problem. Nettie already knew it, too. The first thing she said was ‘maybe I should just take him by ground’.”

“And you couldn’t leave him with the ground crew,” said Julie.

“In that case,” said Jason, “we probably could have got away with it. Nettie has the same critical care endorsement I’ve got. Not a whole lot of ground medics do. But it covered all of our asses for myself and the flight nurse to just go along for the ride, so that’s how we did it. It was kinda fun to work with Nettie for a couple of hours. It’s the only time I’ve ever seen her in action.”

“Is she good?” said Vicky.

“I offered her a job,” Jason replied.

Mallory chuckled. “Not surprising. Remember how when you were in medic school she read way ahead in your textbooks, then actually explained stuff to you?”

Jason grinned. “Believe me, I do. Nothing like being shown up by a precocious fifth-grader.”

“I wonder why Nettie didn’t take you up on that job offer for flight,” Julie pondered, “since she has the certs for it. It’d pay better, wouldn’t it?”

“It would,” said Jason. “It’d expand her scope of practice, too. Lots of stuff we have on the helos that ground transport doesn’t. We even have some bases up in her area, and I’ve reached out to her every time there’s been an opening. But she always gives me a polite ‘no thank you’.”

“That seems kinda weird,” said Vicky. “Why wouldn’t she want a better job?”

“You guys still don’t get it?” Mallory put in, her voice soft and contemplative.

“I think I do,” said Lisa.

“I guess I don’t,” said Jason.

“It’s about Anna,” said Mallory. “It was always about Anna. I remember her talking about that once; just about the only time I remember her ever mentioning it directly. Part of her has always believed that if there’d been an ALS ambulance right there at the beginning, her sister could have been saved. She’s staying on the ground, in a rural area with long transport times, because of Anna.”

“She’s probably wrong about that,” said Jason. “I remember the conversation, now that you mention it; all of us except Vicky were here.”

“Well,” said Lisa with a smile, “Vicky was, in a way.” She ran a hand across her now perfectly flat belly.

“I remember you telling her it was possible,” said Julie.

“And it is,” said Jason. “Just not likely. I admit to softening it a bit when she asked; what else was I gonna do? She was eleven. But based on admittedly incomplete information, I think Annamarie was in irreversible shock when they picked her up. You could have had a helicopter right there the moment they pulled them out of that trailer, and it most likely wouldn’t have mattered.”

Vicky was staring at her hands. “That really sucks. I never got to meet her.”

“None of us knew her all that well,” said Jason. “We didn’t really know Nettie either, not until she came to live here. You have to realize: my sister Clarice has some, um, monsters in her attic, and the man she married was pretty much the same. They met when they were undergoing inpatient psychiatric care. When they both had breakdowns after what happened to the girls, I was the least surprised man on the planet.”

“Whoa, I never knew Nettie’s folks had mental problems even before the kidnapping,” said Julie, eyebrows lifted.

Jason snorted. “It’s not like I was gonna tell you about it at that age. And later, I guess it just never came up. But yeah—there was some very not-good shit, long before the girls were taken. After Clarice went to Bronning to move in with Darell, she kind of kept the rest of us at a distance. We saw the girls maybe once or twice a year.”

“And it wasn’t much better than that after Nettie went home,” Julie chimed in.

“Well, for one thing, their marriage was over by then,” said Lisa. “they never did move back in together.”

“I knew hardly any of this at the time,” said Mallory, her face drawn. “It’s a good thing Nettie came here. God knows how she would have ended up otherwise.”

“I think we did a good job,” said Lisa, her face brightening a little. “It wasn’t easy, but I’m really glad we did it. She’s come a long way since then.”

Mallory and Julie shared a look, their thoughts reflected in each other’s eyes. Before departing Bronning that morning, they’d had a small glimpse of the deep pain beneath the surface of Nettie’s outward demeanor.

“She seems cool,” said Vicky. “Too bad she doesn’t live closer.”

“It’s okay—you’ve got me for the summer. What could be better than that?” Julie was grinning.

Vicky rolled her eyes. “Oh, great. I get to spend three months fending off my bitchy big sister.”

“This is the best thing that ever happened to you, kiddo,” Julie declared. “I’m back, and just when you’re old enough that I can show you all the fun stuff.” She glanced toward Jason and Lisa with a glint in her eye. “We just have to wait till the parental units are asleep—or lock ‘em in the root cellar, whichever seems easiest.”

Lisa smiled. “As if we didn’t know about all the stuff you were getting up to at the time.”

Mallory and Julie both snickered. “But did you?” said Mallory. “Did you really?”

“What I always wondered,” said Jason, “is how much of your spending money got funneled into Elaine Spencer’s hands to buy vodka in Reggie’s liquor store.”

Julie choked on a swallow of Mike’s Hard Lemonade, spluttering into her hand.

“Wait, what?” Vicky demanded.

“You knew about that?” said Mallory.

“Of course we knew,” said Lisa. “And we also trusted the two of you not to get too stupid. So long as you were just hanging out at Lake Norman with Emma and Cindy, walking instead of driving, we figured it was harmless teenage stuff. It wasn’t like those idiots doing up on meth and hot-rodding their pickups on the back roads.”

“And I knew from bitter experience,” said Jason, “that if teens get too many restrictions slapped on them, they start acting out in ways that are dangerous for realsies. You girls were pretty responsible. I won’t say I didn’t worry, but not enough to wreck your good time.” He shrugged. “It’s not like I was a pillar of virtue at that age.”

“Well,” said Julie, eyes turned to the ceiling, “there was the time that—” she shrugged. “Um. I guess it wasn’t all that much. Come to think of it, we really were kinda boring, Mal.”

Soooo great,” said Vicky. “You’ve come back to teach me all the ways to be boring In Dickson. I can’t wait.”

Mallory burst out laughing. “Kiddo, the ways to be boring in Dickson are many, varied, and never-ending. What we need to do is bring you out to Colorado for a few weeks. Spend a day or two in Denver. I think it’s a physical impossibility to get bored in Denver.”

“I don’t know,” said Julie. Her eyes were on the ceiling again. “We’ve been back in Minnesota for all of three days, and I don’t think I’ve had this much fun in years.”

“You know,” said Mallory, “you might just have something there.”

***

With a loud crack, the partially rotted siding board gives way. Unprepared, Heather pitches forward, cracking her forehead a good one on a stud. “Ow!” she blurts. Gina, who’d been lending her weight to the effort, falls sideways, landing against Heather and knocking her to the concrete floor.

Momentarily dazed, flabbergasted at their totally unexpected success, Heather stares disbelievingly at the four-inch opening between the floor and the next board up.

“Yes!” she exults.

Gina studies the opening with somewhat less enthusiasm. “We can’t fit through there, you know.”

“Maybe not,” Heather agrees. “And I don’t think we’ll be able to break the boards above it, either. But look how busted up the cement is, down here on the edge! Maybe we can work some of it loose and crawl under.” Shifting her body around, she kicks at the cracked chunks of concrete floor, looking for one with a little bit of give. It only takes a few seconds to find it.

On to Chapter Eight!