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Flying High, Part One

  • Posted on February 25, 2026 at 3:42 pm

Note from JetBoy: This story, the first from our beloved Bee (aka kinkys_sis) in many a moon, comes with an apology  from yours truly to the author for taking so damnably long to make it public. The editing process took far longer than usual this time. Basically, once I’d laid hands on this story, I didn’t want to let go. Hopefully, you won’t want to let it go either. 

At any rate, Bee was an amazingly good sport about the delay, for which your Boy Proofreader will be forever grateful. I think it’s one of the best things she’s ever done, and my edit job didn’t do too much damage.

Okay, here it is. Please enjoy, and if you do, let the author know in comments!

 

by kinkys_sis

I held my breath as she stood stock still on the mat, arms spread ever so slightly, mentally preparing herself before she began her routine on the balance beam.

There was a hard knot of tension in my stomach, and my fists were clenched so tightly that the knuckles were white. I couldn’t shake a sense of impending disaster, knowing she wasn’t ready for the jumps and somersaults she was about to attempt.

I wondered if her coach realised she was carrying an injured ankle. I only knew because of how intently I studied her, my idol. I was familiar with her every expression, how her body moved. I missed nothing.

She’d gained the top spot on the uneven high bars with a flawless routine. Now there was but one point between herself and a rival gymnast to win the championship. The outcome would be decided on this final round on the balance beam.

But I’d seen the slight bend of her ankle when she landed after an uneven beam dismount. I’d caught the brief grimace that crossed her beautiful face before she caught herself. I knew she’d just sustained an injury.

I had watched closely as she walked away and back to her team. It barely showed, but I knew she was struggling to hide anything untoward.

Now, she leaned back slightly, raised herself onto her toes, then mounted the beam with a single jump. I stopped breathing as I watched. She was almost at the end of the routine and everything had gone perfectly so far. Then she did her last forward somersault. She got perfect height, her body seemed to flow through the air. To most watching, the landing looked good, but I was sure I’d seen her ankle bend again.

I saw the strain on her face; something was wrong. My heart was beating fast and I felt tears prickling at my eyes. No, no, no…

She stepped to the end of the beam and gracefully positioned her body. Now came the triple backward somersaults and dismount to finish her exercise. The first was fine, then she went into the second.

As if in slow motion, I saw the whole thing unfold in excruciating detail. The pain she felt was now written on her face. Her feet landed on the beam, knees already bending for the final somersault.

Then her ankle gave way.

I heard her scream as she slipped, legs straddling either side of the beam, then she landed, the hard wood smashing into her crotch. She rolled off to one side and landed with a loud thump on the matting.

One of her hands went between her thighs, the other clutching for her ankle as she writhed on the ground. Within seconds, she was surrounded by her coach and teammates. Myself, I could do nothing but sit where I was, tears streaming down my face. I was totally heartbroken for my idol, feeling as if I’d been punched in the gut.

***

Her name was Astrid. It’s Norwegian, and means, “one the gods love and care for.” That’s perfect, absolutely perfect.

She was born in England, but her parents emigrated here from Norway. She was in the year above mine, although she was nearly two years older than my fourteen.

If you only went by her appearance, Astrid was a stereotypical Scandinavian blonde, with sapphire-blue eyes, flawless pale skin and a trim figure.

But Astrid was a whole lot more than just a pretty face. She was the star of our gymnastics team, and could totally hold her own at hockey and netball. She could also have been on the athletics team as well, but the head coach put his foot down, insisting Astrid wouldn’t be able to keep her grades up if she was involved in that many sports.  Needless to say, the athletics coach wasn’t pleased.

For me, it was love at first sight. On my way to class, I rounded a corner and there she was, moving through the hallway like a goddess among mortals. Thankfully, I didn’t drop my books, but it was a very close call. Just like that, I was head over heels for her… and I didn’t even know I liked girls that way!

I quickly learned about Astrid’s athletic skills, and from that day onward, I was her biggest fan. I never missed any event she took part in, even though I was certain she never noticed me.

I would stand in the school’s main corridor after school or station myself somewhere on the playground, any place where I might get a glimpse of Astrid, or simply pick up on the sound of her voice.

I’d even been in the shower room at the same time she was, where I got to see her bare body in all its glory. At that moment I felt a helpless longing to touch her, so intense I could have died from it.

That night in bed, I masturbated while picturing myself in Astrid’s arms, both of us naked and exchanging deep, hungry kisses. After making myself come,  I fell asleep only to dream of her, recalling the brief glimpses I’d had of her pussy.

For almost two years I allowed myself to be drawn deeper and deeper into this infatuation with Astrid. My whole life seemed to revolve around her.

But this obsession was slowly breaking my heart. In the social structure of high school, I was invisible to girls like her. A member of a lower caste, never noticed, never recognised. Not by a senior, anyway. That’s just how it was.

I’d actually come to acknowledge just how unhealthy this situation had become for me. But I was trapped; couldn’t find a way out. No matter how often I told myself to stop longing for her, my heart refused to listen. So that was my situation — a fourteen-year-old girl who’d never even been kissed, crazy for another girl who didn’t know I existed.

***

My hands were knotted tightly as I watched them lift Astrid onto a stretcher and wheel her away to the physio room. Without thinking, I leapt from my seat to rush after them. Tracy grabbed my arm, “Sandy, you can’t. They won’t let you in.”

Tracy was my best friend. It had taken nearly a year for her to suss out my obsession with Astrid. She hadn’t been shocked; quite the opposite. At first, she was supportive as could be, but after a while, told me I was wasting my life pining over an impossible dream. Once she hinted that there was an alternative available if I only knew where to look, but I was too far gone in my obsession to see anyone but Astrid.

I watched as Astrid was carried from sight. Tracy held me as I cried, then took my hand and led me outside.

“I have to go,” she told me. “Sorry; I promised the parents I’d be home by nine.” Everyone else was leaving, but Tracy knew I wouldn’t go anywhere until I found someone to tell me how Astrid was.

“Take care, Sandy,” she told me. Tracy kissed my cheek, offered a final hug,  then left.

All cried out, I sat in the stands, thoughts in turmoil. Why was I there? What good would it do? No one knew I was waiting for news of Astrid, and no one would tell me anything. But I stayed right where I was, God knows why.

The gym was nearly empty; still no sign of Astrid. Then I heard the main doors closing. The porter was locking up the entrance before he left.

Bounding to my feet, I raced to catch the man, reaching him as he opened the lock on his bicycle. “What’s happened to Astrid?” I asked, “I haven’t seen her come out.”

“Sorry, love, I’ve no idea. There’s no one left inside, far as I know.” With a brief nod, he mounted the bike and pedalled away.

I couldn’t possibly have missed her. I knew that for certain. So where was Astrid? There’s only one gate out of the school. Yet the porter told me there was no one left inside.

***

Astrid was devastated from the pain she felt, but knowing the gold medal had slipped from her grasp hurt even more. She’d always bested her rivals when it came to the beam, and a good showing there would have given her a lock on first place. Instead, she’d ruined everything with that botched landing from the bars, which twisted her ankle ever so slightly.

It was a minor injury, but just enough to throw Astrid off her game. For the first time, she’d been frightened on the beam. Yet her routine had gone flawlessly, right up until the last tumble sequence before the dismount. And then… disaster. She’d never felt pain like that.

The coach carefully strapped her ankle before telling her she needed to be taken to the hospital. “I… I’ll get my mum to take me,” Astrid told her. Although it hurt like hell, she could walk, but just barely. “I’ll wait out front,” she said. “You should get back to the others. I’m all right.”

Satisfied, the coach gave Astrid a quick hug. “Take care of that ankle, Astrid,” she said. “You know the drill: RICE. Rest. Ice. Compression. Elevation,” she continued, ticking them off on her fingers. “Call your mum now!” she said over her shoulder, hastening back to the event.

But Astrid didn’t phone her mum. She couldn’t. More than anything, she needed to be alone, away from people. She just wanted to hide… and have a good cry.

***

I walked around the corner, looking everywhere for Astrid — not a person in sight. So I carried on around the next corner to the back of the school, where the sports fields were. It, too, was deserted.

She has to be here somewhere, I told myself. It had rained most of the afternoon, leaving everything wet, so I didn’t expect to find her sitting anywhere around there.

I suddenly thought of the cricket pavilion, the only place with shelter and benches, and hastened in that direction.

I heard Astrid crying before I saw her. I hurried around the corner and there she was, lying down on one of the benches, head buried in her hands.

She didn’t hear or see me approach across the soft grass. I reached the edge of the veranda, suddenly realising that now I was there, I had no idea what to say or do. So I just stood, frozen to the spot, watching Astrid weep. Of course, I was crying too.

Some sixth sense must have alerted her to my presence. She raised her head and stared at me. For a moment she seemed puzzled, trying to work out who I was. Finally she snapped, “What do you want? Go away.”

“I… I… I just came to find you, t-to see if you’re okay,” I stammered.

She frowned. “What’s it to you if I’m all right or not? Sorry, but I’m not in the mood for company right now.”

I’m fighting to keep my hands from shaking. Oh God, I’m messing this up. “I… I was worried when you didn’t come out of school. Sorry, Astrid. I didn’t mean to b-be nosy.”

The mention of her name made Astrid glance sharply at me. “You know my name? I don’t remember us ever meeting. Who are you?”

I wanted to turn and flee; pretend this never happened. Finally, I got to speak to the girl I love… and she doesn’t even like me!

Somehow, I managed to keep talking.  “I’m Sandy. I s-saw your accident on the beam and, well… I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Her features softened as she studied me for a moment. “Wait a minute… I’ve seen you before, at other events.” She thought for a second. “Come to think about it, you’re always there, aren’t you?”

I could feel my face getting hot. Once again, I found myself wanting to run away. Instead, I mumbled, “Yeah.”

She sat up and eased her foot down. I saw her wince as it touched the floor. The bandages on her ankle made it look huge. I watched as she carefully felt it, then made a face.

Astrid glanced up at me. “Say, as long as you’re here, can you do something for me? I think my ankle has swollen up more, and this bandage is really tight. Could you maybe loosen it up a bit?”

I went down before her with one knee raised. Patting my thigh, I asked, “Can you put your foot here?” When she complied, I began to slowly unfasten the bandage. As it came undone I saw the discolouration and the awful swelling. It looked terrible. My poor wounded angel.

Astrid was resting her head against the wall, eyes closed, pain clearly written on her face. Without any conscious thought, I bent my head and kissed her foot. My lips just barely brushed the skin.

With a shock, I realised what I’d done, but it was too late. Astrid’s foot was snatched away, then the other one thumped me in the chest. I went flying backwards, my head hitting the ground. I lay dazed, unable to move until I heard Astrid scream. Somehow, I instantly  scrambled to my feet.

She’d obviously jumped up from the bench, but with her ankle unable to take the weight, had immediately flopped back down. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” she gasped, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks.

Once again, I had no idea what to do. She’d kicked me! Had it been on purpose? I didn’t know whether to flee or try to help her. Surely she was furious with me. Why, why, why did I kiss her foot like that?

In the end, I couldn’t bring myself to go, so I approached Astrid, quaking inside. “I’m s-sorry. That was SO stupid of me. Please let me help.” She didn’t object as I came close and reached for her leg. “Lay back and put your foot up.”

The pain showing on her face seemed to have eased a bit, and she’d stopped crying, thank goodness.

“Are you okay?” Astrid said. “I didn’t mean to kick you like that. You startled me.”

“Um, I’m fine. No harm done.” Actually, both my chest and my head were sore, but I felt much, much better. She hadn’t done it on purpose!

Astrid had picked up her purse and was rooting through it, then she gave a cry of despair. “Oh, noooo… I left my phone inside!”  Turning to me, she said, “Have you got a phone with you? Oh God, please say yes! I need to call my mum to come get me.”

“Sure!” I said, already fishing about in my bag. I passed Astrid my phone, and she motioned for me to sit while she dialled her mother. Getting an answer right away, she tearfully explained what had happened, then went silent for a moment. “By the gate in ten minutes?” she mumbled. “Okay, I’ll be there waiting. T-thanks, Mum.”

She handed my phone back to me, then began to struggle to her feet. I reached out to help her up. “You shouldn’t put your whole weight on that foot. Let me help you get to the gate.”

“Um, okay,” she replied.

It was a struggle for us both, what with Astrid favouring one leg, and me trying to hold her up, but we managed to reach the gate at the same time as her mother.

The woman parked and climbed out, hastening around the car to open the passenger door. She helped Astrid inside, then raced back to the driver’s side and jumped back in. The doors slammed and she drove off. No thanks. No goodbye. Not even a glance my way.

I stared down the road as the car disappeared from sight, feeling empty and hurt. Then I got angry. I was the only one who thought to go looking for Astrid. I helped her, showed compassion. And what did I get in return? Not a word of thanks, not so much as a nod. Just a sore head, a bruised chest and a broken heart.

Fuck you, too, I thought. With a heavy sigh, I began the lonely trek home.

I’d just arrived when Tracy called. I blurted out what had happened, then my anger turned to tears. “It’s not fair, Tracy.” I sobbed.

“I tried to warn you, Sandy. Girls like her… they’re like sodding royalty. They don’t have to be nice. Even so, she’s got no right to treat you like that.” A pause. Um, sorry, Sandy, but I’ve really got to go… I’m only about half done with my homework. We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”

“Thanks, Tracy. Sorry to be dumping all this crap on you.”

“Aw, that’s what best mates are for. See you tomorrow!”

“G’night.” I rang off, then trudged off to bed,

***

The next day I was exhausted. I’d slept barely a wink. I really didn’t feel like school, but I had no excuse for not going.

Tracy was waiting at the gate when I arrived. She came running over and gave me a hug. “You look terrible. Are you all right? Ugh, that fucking Astrid. I’d like to give her a swift kick in the arse!”

Unhappy as I was, I had to smile. “Yeah, I’m okay, I’ll be fine. You’re a good friend to me, Tracy. I know I’m being stupid about Astrid. Give me time; I’ll get over it.”

“You’d better!” she said, hugging me once more before we had to get to class.

I soon found out Astrid wasn’t in school. Nor was she there for the next two days. In spite of myself, I was consumed with worry. Was her injury as bad as all that? I had no idea, and that was driving me mental.

It took me until Saturday morning to realise I still had her mum’s number on my phone. Should I ring? What if she treated me just like before?

Finally, I decided against it. I had to stop mooning after her, and this was the right time to start. My heart was still broken, but I did feel a measure of pride for at least making the effort to take my life back.

It didn’t occur to me that if I had the phone number of Astrid’s mum, she would have mine as well. So it came as a complete surprise when she rang me later that same day.

She introduced herself as Britta. And although she sounded like a more grownup Astrid, her accent was very different. “Thank you so very much, dear Sandy, for everything you did for my daughter. I feel terrible for how I drove off without a word like that, but I was so worried and wanted to get Astrid to the hospital as quickly as possible. Please forgive me.”

I did, of course. She was so nice that I couldn’t be mad at her. When I asked her how Astrid was, Britta said, “I’m taking the phone upstairs to her. She wants to talk to you.”

A brief pause, then I heard her lovely voice. “Hello, Sandy. Thanks so much for letting me speak to you. I feel awful for how we treated you the other night, and so does Mum.”

“Never mind that. How are you? Is your ankle okay? I thought it might be really messed up, what with you not being at school.”

She explained that a scan had shown ligament damage but it would heal with rest and physio treatment. Then she said, “I’ve been thinking about you, Sandy. Every time I compete, you’re there. It never really registered before. Can I ask why? Do you… do you have a thing for me?”

I was struggling to find the right answer, terrified of freaking her out. “I just love to, to watch when you compete. You’re an amazing gymnast… but, I mean, you’re seriously good at everything you do. Um, that’s not creepy of me, is it? If I’m making you uncomfortable, I’ll stop coming.” God, I was babbling like an idiot.

“No, you don’t have to stay away… and it’s cool that you enjoy what I do so much. I’m still wondering if it’s more than that, though. I mean, it was kinda weird when you kissed my foot. It threw me.”

I was glad Astrid couldn’t see how red my face was right then. “God, I’m SO embarrassed about that. I felt so sorry for your poor ankle, and just wanted to, you know, kiss it better.” I answered, feeling more foolish than ever.

I was half-expecting Astrid to give me the brush, so I was absolutely staggered by what she said next. “Where do you live, Sandy? If it’s not too far away, can you come over and see me? It’s a bit boring lying here all day with no one to talk to. Maybe my mum could come and fetch you. What do you think?”

My heart jumped into my throat. She wants to see me! I already knew where Astrid lived — only four streets away, actually — but had the presence of mind to keep that to myself. When she gave me the address, I said, “Oh, that’s not far away at all! I’ll be there in half an hour if that’s okay.”

“See you then!” she replied.

Time for a shower. Pick out something nice to wear. A quick word with Mum, then off I went. I could have skipped and capered through the streets, beside myself with joy.

Soon I was standing outside Astrid’s home. Taking a deep breath to brace myself, I marched up to the front door and rang the bell.

Her mum answered a moment later. In the light of day, Britta was just as beautiful as Astrid, just older.

She hugged me tightly after letting me in. “Thank you again for the help you gave my daughter, Sandy. It was very kind of you. She’s waiting upstairs; I’ll take you right up.”

Even without makeup, Astrid was gorgeous. She was lying on her bed propped up with pillows, including one for her leg. She wore a light blue dressing gown that did nothing to hide her figure.

With a start, I realised I was gazing at the contours of her body, and quickly pretended to be examining her injury. There was a new bandage, and a metal brace that went from her ankle to almost her knee. I also saw a livid red scrape on the inside of one thigh, running from her knee to disappear beneath the gown.

I felt so sorry for her. “Wow, that brace looks uncomfortable. And I had no idea you had that nasty scrape. Does it hurt?”

Astrid pulled the hem up a bit, and I winced. The scrape got worse the higher it went. “Oh, the ointment they gave me for it helps a lot,” she said, “Still, it is sore, especially around the top.”

Astrid’s dressing gown parted as she displayed her leg. Now I’m sure it wasn’t done on purpose, but for an instant I could see all the way up to her shaved pussy.  I only got a brief glimpse before she adjusted the gown, but it shook me to the core.

Thankfully, she didn’t seem to notice, patting the bed beside her. “Come sit with me, Sandy. Tell me about yourself.”

My heart raced as I seated myself next to Astrid, praying she couldn’t pick up on my obvious jitters. There I was, in bed with the girl I adored, our bodies close enough to touch, and I’d just discovered she was stark naked beneath her dressing gown.

It didn’t take a great deal of time for me to tell her about myself — what I studied, what I did for fun, the kinds of music I liked and so on.

Then I noticed the posters on her walls, nearly all of them from arty sci-fi movies. I had three of those same posters myself.

“Hey, you’re into science fiction, huh?” I said. “So am I!”

“Well, more astronomy and science fact, really, though I read sci-fi sometimes. I hope to study astronomy at Uni. But I just love those posters. What about you?”

“I think it was the film Alien and the sequels that got me into sci-fi,” I told her. “Now, I’m a fanatic. My DVD collection is massive.”

Soon, we were embroiled in a lengthy discussion of science fiction versus fact. It soon became apparent that we had a lot in common, and Astrid seemed just as pleased by that as I was. Our conversation had become quite animated.

Suddenly, I noticed Astrid was holding my hand while we spoke. She didn’t seem to be aware of it. It just sort of happened. But I was very aware. Her hand became my universe, I fell silent.

“What is it?” she asked me. “You’ve gone all quiet.” She followed my gaze to our hands, our fingers entwined, then began to pull away. But I held on. “No, please don’t,” I said. “Let’s just keep talking.”

I saw her study my face. “I’ve thought about what you said earlier, and I’m not sure I believe it. You do have a thing for me, don’t you?”

I was blushing furiously before she was done speaking. This was it — make or break time. Would Astrid allow me to be her friend, at least? Or might she despise me for liking her that way? Whatever the outcome, it was time for the truth.

I whispered, “Yes… yes, I do. I think you’re th-the prettiest, most talented girl I’ve ever seen.” Now, I couldn’t stop myself from speaking, the words coming out of me in a rush. “I’m never happier than when I’m watching you do sports, especially gymnastics. You’re so — so committed; you always give your best. I’m there at every event, because I love watching you so much. I even have p-pictures of you on my wall…” I faltered, now embarrassed at my gushing. I felt a tear roll down my cheek. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled, unable to meet Astrid’s gaze.

She reached up to brush away the tear with a finger, then allowed her hand to linger on my cheek. “Hey, there’s no need for that. Here… lie down next to me.” Astrid shifted over a little to make room.

As I lay back, she wrapped an arm round my shoulder, drawing my head into the crook of her neck. “Don’t cry, Sandy,” she whispered. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

I settled in, trying to relax, eventually succeeding. For ages, we simply lay quietly, no words spoken at all. To me, it was heaven being so close to her. Her body alongside mine. The delicate scent of her filled my head.

I was annoyed with myself for it, but I couldn’t stop studying the swell of her breasts, just inches away. God, how I longed to touch them, but I didn’t dare, not wanting to break the spell of this precious moment.

Astrid broke into my thoughts. “It’s nice having you here by me, very comforting. I’m not sure why, but I like it.” She pulled me a little tighter to her. “You’re really sweet, Sandy.”

My arousal had returned in a big way. We were cuddling in Astrid’s bed, just a thin dressing gown covering her nude body, and she’d just admitted to enjoying having me so close. She liked it! How utterly amazing was that?

My lips were almost brushing Astrid’s neck. Summoning up my courage, I  gave her a feather-light kiss. She didn’t protest. In fact, I thought I felt her shiver ever so slightly.

That emboldened me just enough to kiss her neck again, more firmly this time. But Astrid said, “That feels nice… but I think you should stop.”

Somehow, I managed to raise my head, meeting her gaze. “Didn’t you like it?”

Now it was her turn to blush. “I said it was nice, but that’s all. Sandy, I’m sorry, but I’m not that way, I can’t be what you want me to be. So please don’t, okay?”

I knew this was a defining moment in our relationship. At least Astrid wanted to be friends, and I could live with that, even while longing for more.

I said, “Okay, I’ll be good.” But I did lean closer until my lips touched hers in the gentlest of kisses. It was brief, but lasted long enough to convey my message: I’ll wait for you. If you ever think you might want me after all, I’ll be here.

I slowly sat up. “I’d better go now, Astrid. I’ll come and see you tomorrow if you like.”

For a moment she seemed puzzled, then gave me a dazzling smile. “Yes, I’d appreciate it if you came again.” She squeezed my hand. “I do like you, Sandy, but I just want to be friends. Are you okay with that?”

Getting to my feet, I returned her smile. “Yes, I am. See you tomorrow.”

Her mother Britta walked me to the door, then gave me a hug, offering an open invitation to visit whenever I liked. When I told her I would be there the next day, she hugged me again. “Thank you, Sandy. Thank you.”

***

Back at home, I sat on my bed, gazing at one of my favourite pictures of Astrid, more in love with her than ever.

My visit had gone far, far better than I’d expected. We were actual friends now! Her mum liked me, and encouraged me to visit again! Best of all, I’d kissed Astrid on the mouth, and she’d enjoyed it.

Okay, it’s true that she made me stop, then more or less told me she didn’t like girls that way. But she did like it when I kissed her; I could feel it when our lips were touching. And she wanted to see me again — the very next day!

Despite Astrid’s claim of being straight, something deep inside told me I might still have a chance with her. I could make my dream come true!

My body was still tingling, remembering the warmth of her lying next to me. Then there was the brief glimpse I’d had of her pussy lips. And the way she smelled… like vanilla, I decided.

Quickly undressing, I spread myself out on the bed. I gently caressed my nipples to bring them to life — first one, then the other. Reaching down with my free hand, I began to masturbate, tracing my slit with a fingertip. I closed my eyes, pretending it was Astrid touching me.

That sent my lust soaring to a new, dizzying height. With a choked cry I spread my legs wide and fingered myself harder than I ever had, not caring if it hurt. Meanwhile, I kept the other hand busy plucking and tugging at my nipples.

“Ohhhh… oh, Astrid, I love you s-so much!” I blurted as the orgasm hit me, the most intense I’d ever experienced. It seemed to last forever. Afterward, I rolled into a ball, hugging myself, in love with everything, so happy I could have cried.

What might the next day bring? At that moment, anything seemed possible

***

Once again, Astrid’s mum Britta answered the door when I knocked. Gesturing me inside, she surprised me with a hug and a kiss on the cheek once she’d closed the door.

“Thanks so much for coming, Sandy. I think you’re the only one who’s managed to cheer my daughter up!” She paused, then said, “Sandy, can I ask you a very personal question?”

With some apprehension, I nodded.

“You love my daughter, don’t you? I mean real love, more than just friendship. I can see it in your eyes. You can answer honestly, dear – I won’t be angry.”

It was crunch time. Would she ask me to leave if I told her the truth? She didn’t seem to be upset – in fact, I wondered why she wasn’t.

I decided to speak frankly, but had trouble meeting her questioning gaze. “You’re right,” I mumbled, ”I – I’m in love with her. I’ve felt that way about Astrid for ages, but… well, she doesn’t feel the same way I do. She only wants to be friends.”

Britta took both my hands. I timidly glanced up, and she gave me a warm smile. “Be patient with her, Sandy. She’ll come around if you give her time. She’s confused about her feelings… and maybe a little scared by the idea of being attracted to a girl.”

My head spun, and my heart was suddenly thudding loudly enough to echo. “You m-mean… she maybe likes me? Um, more than just friends?” She couldn’t mean that. Surely not!

But Britta nodded. “I think so, Sandy. For one thing, Astrid hasn’t stopped talking about you since you left yesterday. And when she mentions you, there’s something in her eyes… something special.”

Once more, I found myself daring to hope. Could it be? Could Astrid really like me that way? After my frenzied bout of masturbation the night before, I’d chided myself for getting carried away, for believing we could ever be a real couple. Best to just think of her as a friend,  I decided. Leave it at that.

Now Astrid’s mother was telling me something very different. “I’ve suspected for a long time that my daughter likes girls, though she’s only starting to realise it herself. Mothers see these things, you know.” She shook her head. “It was the same for me when I was Astrid’s age. But in my case, it took much longer to… to understand what I wanted, that I wasn’t meant to share my life with a man.”

I was so startled that the words just popped out of me. “You – you’re gay?”

Oh my GOD, did I actually say that? I clapped a hand over my mouth, then began to stumble into an apology, my cheeks burning.

Thank goodness, Britta stopped me before I made an even greater pillock out of myself. “It’s all right, dear. You’re right – I’m a lesbian. I was running away from my true feelings when I married Astrid’s father. He’s a good man, but it never really gelled between us. Still, I got my daughter out of the deal, so I can’t complain. She’s an amazing girl.”

“She is,” I agreed. “I’ve never known anyone like her.”

Britta nodded. “I want Astrid to follow her heart, to love who she’s meant to love.” Taking my hand again, she gave it a squeeze. “And that just might be you, Sandy. I hope it is, anyway. Seems to me that you’d be a fine match for her.” Lowering her voice, she added, “I probably shouldn’t say this… but if I was still a schoolgirl, I’d be doing everything I could to steal you from Astrid.” She leaned forward and kissed me again, this time allowing it to linger. Quickly drawing away, she pointed toward the stairs. “Well, go on… you know where she is.”

“Um, thanks,” said, then I mounted the steps, still dazed by what Astrid’s mum had just told me – and what she’d done. So much to think about!

First, Astrid might very likely be into girls. Thinking about it, it occurred to me that I’d never seen her with a boyfriend.

Second, Astrid could have feelings for me. The very notion seemed completely mental, but if her own mum thought it was true…

Third, her mum not only had no objection to my loving Astrid, she was actively encouraging me to pursue her! Of course, she’d also told me to “be patient.” Astrid might genuinely like me that way, but that didn’t mean she was ready to be my girlfriend.

Fourth, Astrid’s mother had just admitted she was attracted to me herself, and I didn’t know what to make of that. How would she have responded, I wondered, if I’d returned her kiss?

Lots to think about, indeed. So much that I almost wanted to turn around, march back home and give myself a few hours to think, to work out what I should do next. But right then I was standing before Astrid’s door, pulse racing, aching to see the girl I loved. I knocked, then waited.

“Is that you, Sandy?” I heard on the other side. “Come in!”

Astrid was seated on a stool in front of the mirror, barefoot in a dark blue dressing gown. She’d been brushing her hair. Now, she turned to smile at me. “I’m glad you came.” She extended a hand to me, then when I took it, drew me in to kiss my cheek.

As her lips touched mine, the top of Astrid’s dressing gown parted just enough to give me a glimpse of her bare breasts.

I somehow managed to control my hands, clenching them tightly, fighting the urge to reach out and touch. Astrid was blushing as I straightened, hastily pulling the sides of the gown together. Setting her hairbrush down on the vanity, she reached for a crutch that was propped against her bookcase.

“Here, let me help you,” I said. “Put your arm around my shoulder.”

I guided Astrid over to the bed, then helped her to lie down. As I bent to pick her foot up from the floor and hoist it onto the bed, I got another very explicit view of her pussy.

I almost froze, but this time I was able to conceal that familiar rush of lust. Her sex was lovely — a sweet pink flower framed by a neatly trimmed patch of blonde pubes.

She really is exposing a lot of herself, I thought. Is she… could she be doing it on purpose? It was such a thrilling notion that I couldn’t dwell on it. Instead, I pretended to be studying that angry-looking scrape on her inner thigh.

“That still looks sore,” I murmured, sounding a lot calmer than I felt. “Where’s the cream they gave you to put on it?”

“Right there,” Astrid replied, pointing at a blue jar on her night table. “It really helps a lot. I should put some on now.” She looked up at me. “Um, I’m sorry to ask… but can you help me get back over to the chair? It’s much easier to apply when I’m sitting up.”

“No need to go to all that trouble,” I said. Why don’t I just do it for you?” Let her say yes, I thought. Please, God, let her say yes.

Astrid broke into a smile. “Would you? Yes, please, if you don’t mind.”

My pulse quickened as she handed me the blue jar. I knew I had to behave myself and not embarrass us both, no matter how intensely I ached for her.

Scooping out a dollop of the ointment, I began to apply it to her inner leg, starting just above Astrid’s knee where the scrape began. “Tell me if it hurts,” I said.

“You’re doing fine,” she murmured.

Taking my time, I worked my way up, gently rubbing the cream into Astrid’s leg until I reached the hem of the dressing gown. I glanced up at her, unsure what to do next, but her eyes were closed, her head resting on the pillow.

My heart pounded as I eased her gown open and continued upward. Astrid’s thighs were too close together for me to continue, so I carefully spread them apart, baring her pussy to my hungry gaze. She didn’t object; didn’t stop me.

A twinge of renewed arousal flickered through me as I feasted my eyes on Astrid’s girl parts. Her slit was now slightly open. Was it my overactive imagination at work, or could I actually see a hint of wetness there?

Enough, I told myself. Focus. This isn’t supposed to be about your stupid desires. You’re just doing something nice for a friend, that’s all. I was lying, of course.

By then, I was only a couple of inches from Astrid’s crotch, where I could see how badly she’d been injured when her groin hit the beam.  There was ugly blue and yellow bruising on either side of her labia.

Would she allow me to touch her there? My lust was overruling my sense of caution, telling me to go for it, to caress her the way I so desperately yearned to.

My hand trembled as I applied a touch of ointment to one of the bruises, less than an inch from her opening, I allowed my fingers to drift even closer, lightly brushing one of her nether lips. Then a little more cream across the top, and down the other side.

I saw Astrid’s mouth open, heard a tiny whimper escape. Her pussy was distinctly juicy by now, and the view had me transfixed.

All thought of restraint had abandoned me. I was just about to trace her opening with my fingers when Astrid placed a hand on my arm. “Thank you. That felt very nice.”

The spell was broken. There was a box of tissues on the vanity. I used one to wipe my fingers, then put the top back on the blue jar and returned it to the night table, all the while unable to meet Astrid’s eyes.

I was still incredibly aroused — my knickers were so wet, I could’ve wrung them out like a bath flannel — but I was also utterly baffled. Was Astrid playing some kind of game with me? I didn’t know whether I was coming or going!

As if sensing my confusion, Astrid smiled, patting the bed next to where she lay. “Come lie down with me,” was all she said. I couldn’t refuse.

I settled in and closed my eyes, basking in Astrid’s presence, my face resting against her neck. I felt her hand seek out mine, then she laid it on her bare tummy.

Before I could respond, Astrid turned toward me, her lips brushing my forehead. “Thank you again, Sandy. I’m glad to have you here.”

I raised my face to hers until our eyes met. There was a warmth in her gaze that made me hot and crazy inside. What did she want from me?

Astrid’s lips were just inches away. I couldn’t stop myself; my mouth found hers in the lightest and briefest of kisses.

Breaking away, I expected her to chide me, or at least offer up a reminder that she didn’t like girls that way.  But no, her expression remained unchanged. I gave her a shy smile, and she returned it.

My hand was still resting on her belly; her hand on mine. Then Astrid reached up to touch my cheek.

I kissed her again, just a brief peck. But this time, as I drew away, her lips followed me, still touching my own… not kissing, but there. A delicious shiver flickered through me, and my heart began to throb anew. Was she returning my affection?

“Oh, Astrid,” I whispered, my words lightly brushing her mouth as I spoke them. Unable to stop myself, I kissed her for real. She didn’t pull away, but neither did she respond, just allowed me to kiss her. The temptation was there to bring my tongue into play, but instead I lightly touched my lips to Astrid’s nose, chin and neck, then rested my head on her chest.

We lay quietly like that for some time, blissfully content. True, I was also still throbbing with desire for Astrid, but right then it was enough just to have her in my arms.

She began to run her fingers through my hair. “I love your hair, Sandy. It feels so soft.” Then she kissed the top of my head. My hand was resting on Astrid’s arm, and when she nuzzled my hair a second time, I allowed it to glide up and down, stroking her from the shoulder to the elbow.

I was conscious of my arm moving across Astrid’s breasts with every caress, and found myself wondering if her nipples were responding to my touch. Then I heard a tiny whimper escape her lips, barely audible.

It’s happening, I told myself. She wants this. Just take it slow, draw her in. I was a bundle of nerves, shocked to find myself making another play for Astrid after deciding it was a waste of time. Clearly, the desire I felt for her outweighed my fear of rejection. On the other hand, she hadn’t pushed me away…

Astrid’s gown was open just enough to reveal the top of her chest. Once, then twice, I kissed the exposed skin. Astrid’s hand still rested in my hair, and when I gave her that second kiss, she ever so slightly applied a hint of pressure, drawing me into her.

Encouraged, I kissed her again, lower down this time. The top of her gown had parted a little further, and I could see the tops of her breasts. Astrid’s nipples were visibly erect, straining at the material, and her breathing had gone a bit ragged.

I felt her fingers tightening in my hair — not very hard, but enough to tell me she liked what I was doing.

No point in being subtle now, I figured. Extending my tongue, I slowly traced a line across Astrid’s chest, not far above those lovely titties of hers.  I laid my hand just below them, but close enough that the underside of one breast barely rested against my thumb.

My heart soared when Astrid opened her gown open a bit more, just short of baring her nipples. I continued to caress her left breast with my tongue, using it like a paintbrush, trailing a line down to the edge of her areola. She gave a deep, contented sigh. That was when I realised my deepest held fantasy was coming true.

Already hungry for more, I allowed my fingers to gently glide along the underside of Astrid’s breasts. Her nipples were still barely concealed, but outlined so graphically through the material of her gown that she might as well have been topless.

With a flick of my fingers, Astrid’s gown fell away, leaving her bare-breasted. I allowed my eyes to feast on the sight of her; so beautiful, so inviting.

Unable to restrain myself, I bent to take her nipple between my lips, teasing it with a flickering tongue. I was going completely by instinct; my only objective to please Astrid. She whimpered, “Oh, God,” cradling my head to her chest.

When I finally lifted my head to meet her gaze, Astrid opened her eyes and stared at me. “You bitch,” she said, but with a smile. “I tried not to let this happen, but I like it too much to make you stop. Please… kiss me.”

Heart pounding, I raised my face to hers, and our mouths met. I’d never properly kissed anyone before, but I always watched closely when lovers did it in movies and on the telly. This time, Astrid returned my kiss, and it was a thousand times better than I could have imagined. Her tongue emerged between her lips to meet mine, then our mouths crushed together, the kiss growing heated and intense as our passion mounted.

I was fondling Astrid’s breasts, occasionally plucking at her nipples to tease them, just like I enjoyed doing to myself.

Suddenly she broke our kiss, her head hitting the pillow. “Oh, God, I can’t… This is so, so wonderful. Love me, Sandy. I — I need you!” she pleaded.

I returned to her breasts, giving them quick little kisses all over. Astrid enfolded my head in both arms, cradling it to her like it was a baby. Licking at her nipples, I pushed the blue dressing gown all the way open to reveal her body.

I drank in the vision of Astrid’s bare beauty. After admiring her from afar for what seemed an eternity, now she was practically naked before me, eager to be kissed, touched, loved. And I was more than ready to give her what she wanted.

Abandoning her nipples with a brief kiss for each, I nuzzled a pathway down Astrid’s body, between her breasts and lower. The blood pounded through me as my lips caressed her belly. I could hear her whisper, “Oh, my. Oh my goodness, yes.”

My fingers found the whisper of blonde curls between Astrid’s thighs, and my mouth soon followed. First a bashful kiss to say hello, then my mouth covered the rosy flesh of her opening. I saw her legs open wider, welcoming my kisses.

I dared not put my fingers to her pussy lips, thinking they might still be too sore after her injury on the balance beam. But I could kiss her there; use my lips and tongue to soothe the pain away. I felt Astrid tense when I gently sucked at the folds of her labia. Raising my head, I said, “I won’t hurt you, my love. Don’t worry.”

I extended my tongue to trace the length of her slit, then carefully began to press it inside. But I interrupted myself to ask, “Does that hurt?”

Astrid gave her head a quick shake. “No, no, it d-doesn’t, it’s wonderful,” she stammered. “Don’t — don’t stop, okay?”

Just in case, I cautiously moved her injured leg a bit further away and held it there, not wanting to brush against that ugly scrape. Then I sought out her clitoris. I was new to all of this, but making good use of the lessons I’d learned from looking up lesbian stuff online. Not for the first time, I silently thanked my parents for choosing not to put any blocks on my internet access.

I was teasing her clit with flicks of my tongue, and that seemed to be working just fine. Astrid was now writhing and pumping her hips — up and down, and from side to side.

Drawing back slightly, I parted her lips with a finger and eased it slowly inside. What with Astrid’s gymnastic work, I figured her hymen had to be long gone by then. She didn’t stop me, just kept right on squirming, but she did take hold of my head with both hands, holding me in place. I took her clit between my lips, then began to work my finger in and out. With each inward stroke, she raised her hips to meet me. She was moaning, and starting to get loud with it. Her mother’s just downstairs, I thought, praying she couldn’t hear.

Inexperienced as I was, I didn’t know Astrid was having an orgasm until she thrust herself into my face, arching her body up from the bed. Once I realised she was coming, I sucked and flicked my tongue at her clit for all I was worth. And instead of pumping my finger in and out, I started rolling it around inside her vagina. I’d read something online from a lesbian who said she did that to her lovers, and it always drove them wild.

It certainly seemed to hit Astrid that way. Clutching fistfuls of my hair in her shaking hands, she hooked her good leg over my shoulder and probably would have done with the other, had I not been holding it firmly in place.

She let out a choked scream, then shook as if she were having a fit until eventually, her body relaxed and she sank into the mussed sheets. I was enthralled at what I’d done for her, and amazed by the intensity of her pleasure. Worn out from my efforts, I rested my head on Astrid’s good thigh, delighted by the blissful expression she wore. After a moment, I allowed my eyes to drift shut.

I jumped half out of my skin when someone kissed my cheek. My immediate reaction was horror when I opened my eyes to see Astrid’s mother bending over me. But her words eased my fright. “That was so beautiful,” Britta whispered. “Well done, love.” Then she was gone.

Astrid’s eyes were closed as I crawled up the bed to lie beside her. Suddenly she took hold of me — pulling me to her, then twining her arms round my waist. Her heart was beating fast. “Sandy,” she gasped. “Oh, my goodness, Sandy!”

We shared a deep but unhurried tongue kiss, then Astrid said, “Let’s rest for a little while, then I’ll make you feel good.” Touching her lips to my nose, she added, “Promise.”

I’ve no idea how long we slept, but I became aware of light kisses falling like raindrops on my closed eyes. I didn’t open them, for fear Astrid might stop. Instead, I snuggled closer to her and draped an arm across her tummy. She held it tightly.

After a while she sat up, then I felt her tugging at my top, pulling it up from my waist and over my breasts.

Raising myself, I meekly allowed Astrid to undress me, but I felt panicky, worried she wouldn’t like how I looked with my clothes off. I was a teenager, but still had a boy’s body, with thin legs and breasts so small that I usually didn’t bother with a bra.

Thankfully, she didn’t care. In fact, Astrid smiled as she looked me up and down. “Beautiful,” she breathed.

“N-not like you,” I said, still feeling a bit self-conscious.

Astrid shook her head. “Don’t even think that.” She began to caress my belly with the tips of her fingers, and I just melted inside. “You’re amazing just as you are,” she continued, actually blushing a bit. “I — I’ve never done anything with a girl before, but now I want to.” As she spoke, Astrid shrugged out of her gown and let it drop it to the floor. Now she was completely naked. I tried not to stare, but it wasn’t easy.

Touching my shoulder, she said, “Lie back. And close your eyes,” her words accompanied by a smile that turned me into jelly inside.

I did as she said, my every atom alive with anticipation as I braced myself for Astrid’s first move.  At first, nothing. I just waited, all but certain the slightest touch would set me off. Relax, I told myself.

I’d just managed to calm my jangling nerves a bit when a lone finger lightly brushed my left nipple, then circled it. Then I felt Astrid take the tip of my breast into her mouth, and a wave of pleasure hit me like lightning.

I’d teased my nipples before while bathing, even masturbating, but it never felt like this. Every touch of her tongue stoked my arousal, summoned the flame and coaxed it into a merry blaze.

Astrid was taking her time making love to me, clearly intending to fully savour her first time with another girl. Ordinarily, that would have been heaven on earth for me, but at that point I was so worked up that it hurt, my body aching with the need for release.

Nothing else for it. Taking hold of Astrid’s wrist, I guided her hand downwards while tugging my skirt up. “Touch me, Astrid. Please, please touch me!”

I moaned in mixed arousal and relief when she began to rub the front of my knickers. My sex was throbbing like an engine, and I was about to come on the spot. But then Astrid paused to pull my knickers down – well, she was trying to, anyway. “You need to help me here, Sandy,” she said, tugging at the waistband. “I can’t manage this on my own.”

My shyness forgotten, I wriggled out of my knickers and cast them aside. Now we were both nude but for these cute lime-coloured socks I wore. I took those off and lay back, spreading my legs wide for her. Astrid stretched out before me, her face so close to my pussy I could feel the warm caress of her breath.

She glanced up; flashed me a smile. “Lie on your side, okay?”

I arranged myself the way she wanted, then whimpered as she traced the line of my slit with her fingers, then began to explore – up to the top of my sparse pubes, back down again, then all around, exploring every detail. I watched, heart pounding in my ears as another person touched my pussy for the first time. And not just any person, but the love of my life.

I watched Astrid part her lips, then extend her tongue to lick a path through my slit. The effect was positively electric, my body jerking in response. Oh my goodness, how lovely it felt, bringing joyful tears to my eyes.

Hungry for more, I raised a knee to open myself even wider and leaned into her. With the fingers of both hands, she spread my labia apart and plunged her tongue into me. I couldn’t see what she was doing, but I felt the warm, tender probing of Astrid exploring my womanly centre. As if that wasn’t enough, she then searched around just above my opening with two fingers, seeking and finding the clitoris. I’d played with my clit on many occasions, usually lost in fantasies of Astrid, imagining what it would be like to have her make love to me. Now she was doing just that, and it was better than I could ever have imagined.

I felt my body striving for its peak, reaching for the orgasm that now seemed so close. Astrid was really giving me a workout, feasting on my pussy as if she meant to devour me whole, her fingers a blur on my clit. She’s fucking me, I told myself. Astrid is fucking me. I was thrusting my hips toward her mouth, pulling at my nipples.

Teetering on the brink of sweet release, I gasped, “Astrid, fuck! I’m g-gonna come. Ooooh, oh my God, it’s happening. Now, now, n-now…” Then I was biting my lip, surging to meet her as ecstasy raged through me like a thunderstorm. It took me somewhere I’d never been before. My mind went blank, and the world faded to grey.

On to Part Two!

1

A Series of Erotic Interviews with Highly-Sexed Women, Chapter 4

  • Posted on February 20, 2026 at 9:58 pm

by Suzy Freeman

Hello again. I am Suzanne Freeman, a student working toward a PhD in psychology. As part of my dissertation, I have interviewed a number of women who consider themselves as having a higher than usual sex drive that got its start when they were very young. Each subject met with me in a private setting to discuss her intimate experiences.

My first subject, Millie (last name withheld), initially met me in a fairly private section of a local park, where I interviewed her, recording our conversation. Much of this dissertation consists of these transcribed interviews.

For our next meeting, Millie and I met at my apartment. The following portion deals with the sexual precocity of her daughters, with whom she couples regularly. Her husband is fully aware of the intimacy she shares with their two daughters (Emily, twelve, and Piper, nine). He occasionally enjoys sexual touching and oral play with the girls, but those activities fall outside the scope of this dissertation.

NOTE: In the interview portions of this document, “Q” indicates either a question or statement from me, while “A” represents the subject (in this case, Millie). In this particular section, “E” indicates a response from Emily, and “P” serves a similar purpose for Piper. In an effort to provide clarity, much of this entry is in standard prose format, much as one would find in a work of fiction. As other people are introduced who are beyond the subject of the interviews, I use their first initial as an identifier when appropriate.

This session, my fourth interview with Millie, took place at her home in a quiet suburban area of the city. In addition to resuming our interview, I’d been invited over for the express purpose of engaging in lesbian sex with Millie and her daughters. Needless to say, I was most eager to accept.

***

Ringing the doorbell, I heard Millie call, “Come in, Suzanne.”

A wondrous sight awaited me when I made my entrance: Millie, Emily and Piper were all seated on a large forest-green sofa, completely nude. I was surprised, though hardly shocked. I’d seen Millie and Emily naked before (see Parts Two and Three of this study), but not little Piper, who had her feet on the sofa and both legs spread, putting her smooth slit on display. The mischievous cast to her eyes made it all too clear that this little girl knew exactly what she was doing.

I wanted to go down on my knees before her right then and take her sex into my mouth. Instead, I settled for giving the child a warm smile before greeting my hostess.

***

Q: Hello again, Millie. I see your daughters are ready for the fun to begin…

A: Yes, they are! When I told Piper you would be visiting, she broke into a dance. She loves going down on a woman she’s never tasted before.

P: Are you gonna get naked now, too?

Q: Do you want me to?

P: Of course! How can I lick your pussy if you have all your clothes on?

A: Patience, dear. We’ve got all afternoon to enjoy ourselves.

E: Can we undress you, Miss Suzanne?

Q: Of course.

***

At this point, the girls began to remove my clothing. I hadn’t worn a bra that day in anticipation of the pleasures to come. In fact, all I wore was a loose top, shorts, panties and sandals, so Emily and Piper had me stripped naked in less than sixty seconds. At this point, they stepped back to admire my nude form. I‘d taken the time to shave and wax for this little adventure, and the girls were fascinated by my baby-smooth mons.

I was more than ready to fuck, but thought it best to spend some time interviewing the family first. If we got right into the sex, I’d end up too dazed and winded to get the details I wanted. There was a plush accent chair facing Millie and her girls, with a towel spread out in the seat. It was obviously meant for me, so I sat down, keeping my legs apart.

***

Q: May I ask the two of you some questions before we begin?

(Emily and Piper exchanged a glance, then agreed. As I commenced the interview, it didn’t escape my attention that both girls began to gently fondle themselves.)

Q: Emily, we’ll start with you. What is your earliest sexual memory? That doesn’t mean you necessarily knew it was sexual at the time. I’m looking for that first moment when you realized certain touches felt good in a special way, or the sight of someone naked gave you a warm feeling inside.

E: I remember when I was really little, Mommy came into my bedroom and asked me if I ever touched myself down there so that it felt good. I told her yes, I had. She asked me if I’d let her watch me doing it, so she could tell if I was touching the right way. That was okay with me, so I took off my panties, lay down on the bed and started to touch my pussy, but then Mommy asked if she could do it for me, and I said she could.

A: Honestly, I hadn’t planned to do anything like that to Emily, but when she spread her legs apart and began to masturbate… Well, it got me so aroused that I wanted to scream. By then, I’d known for a few years that I felt a sexual attraction to my girls, but I had a firm grip on that desire – or so I thought. All of a sudden, I had to touch my little girl’s cunt. Had to.

E: So, yeah, Mommy started rubbing me there, and it felt loads better than when I did it. After a while, she said something about how pretty my pussy was, then she bent down and kissed it!

Q: Oh, my. Were you surprised?

E: Well, sure. I didn’t know anyone did stuff like that! Anyway, Mommy asked if I liked it, and I told her yes. Then she asked if she could kiss it more, and I told her that was okay. She gave me a few more kisses, but  It wasn’t long before she was licking me… and oh my GOSH, did that ever feel good! It just kept getting better and better, too, until… I don’t know, it was like turned into light or something. Mommy told me that feeling was called an orgasm.

A: And I’ve been licking you ever since, haven’t I?

E: (giggling) Right!

Q: What about you, Piper? What’s your earliest sexual memory?

P: I don’t remember how old I was. Real little.

E: Is this about our first time, Pipes?

P: Uh-huh.

E: I think you were three or four then. I was six or seven.

P: Sounds right. Well, Em told me she could show me something that felt better than anything in the whole world, so of course I wanted to know all about it. She had us get naked, which we did a lot anyway, and then she started licking me down there. At first I thought it was totally gross, ‘cause that’s where I pee from, but Em said it tasted wonderful. It sure felt great, I remember that! I don’t remember if I licked her that time, but after that we always did it to each other.

Q: Do you remember if you had an orgasm?

P: Not for a while. I think the first time was when I was five.

Q: How did that happen?

P: Oh, Mommy was licking me.

Q: How nice. Your mother gave you your first orgasm, then.

P: Yep. And I’ve been having them ever since!

Q: Millie, were you okay with Emily making love to her little sister?

A: Of course! She even asked permission, and I gave it. I think my exact words were, “Go for it, girl!”

Q: Just for the sake of the data, how old were the girls when their father became involved?

A: (Thinks before responding) I think he became involved when they were seven and ten. (Turns to her daughters) Does that sound about right?

E: Yeah. He came home from work early and caught us in bed. I thought he might be mad, but he wasn’t.

Q: Okay. It’s not a part of this study, so that’s all I need to know about him. And you girls don’t mind what he does with you?

P: No.

E: No. But we like it lots more with Mommy. Other girls, too.

P: And women. (Giggles)

E: Yeah, and women.

A: So, is that enough information for today? Shall we get the party started?

Q: Yes! (By then, I was very turned on by what the girls had told me, and watching them toy with their bare slits so casually only made me hotter.)

Note: The following will be presented in standard prose style, like a story. I used my phone to record the video of the events and I have transcribed them based on the visual record.

***

Emily and Piper rose from their seats and stepped up to me. Perching on the left arm of my chair, Emily bent down to take my nipple into the warmth of her mouth. I gazed down into her beautiful blue eyes as she began to suck, and for a moment I was head over heels in love, as if Emily was my own child seeking nourishment.

Piper got down on her knees before me and began to lick and kiss my tummy. She spent nearly a minute probing my navel, pressing her tongue into it as if demonstrating what she intended to do to my cunt. I was positively wired with anticipation.

I glanced over at Millie, who was watching the show and masturbating, a leg draped over the arm of a large, overstuffed accent chair. It was plain to see she intended to watch for now and join in later, so I shifted my full attention to her daughters.

After a moment, Piper nuzzled her way down to my pussy and began to apply the gentlest of kisses to my clitoris. Those gentle pecks gradually intensified until she was feasting on my cunt, using her tongue on me like a swiftly flickering paintbrush.

Fluids oozed from my vagina to be gulped down by the nine-year-old nymphet, though an occasional trickle escaped her lips to flow into the crack of my ass. Piper’s eyes were closed, but I saw enough of her face to be put in mind of someone savoring a scrumptious treat. Occasionally, she would open them to take a good look at my pussy before getting back to work. The child’s obvious pleasure turned me on even more than her busy tongue.

With Piper licking my clit and Emily switching her mouth from one nipple to the other, I was in heaven, my first climax of the day steadily approaching. I had no idea how many orgasms I was going to have, but I could already tell this one was going to be, for want of a better word, a real doozy.

Movement caught my eye, and I noticed Millie rising from her chair. She got down on the floor with her face beneath Piper’s butt, grasped her daughter’s hips and drew them down to her face. I couldn’t see her take that first lick, but I saw a hard jerk run through Piper’s body; heard the child’s ecstatic gasp. The loving attention she was receiving from Mommy seemed to intensify her own lust, and she began eating me as if possessed, all but assaulting my cunt with her mouth and tongue.

I felt Emily’s body shudder, and a glance told me Piper was fingering her big sister while she licked me. The sight was enough to set me off, the sudden rush of orgasm seizing my body in a crushing grip. Tremors and jolts of pleasure raced through me; hoarse cries broke from my throat.

In the midst of ecstasy, I realized Piper was coming as well, and opened my eyes to watch it happen. She shook and heaved, but somehow managed to keep eating my pussy through her climax. It delighted me to think my orgasm might have helped Piper to reach hers.

Once she’d recovered, a sleepy-eyed Piper crawled into my lap and nestled there like a baby, latching her mouth to my left breast. It was such a beautiful moment that I found myself shedding a few joyful tears.

As for Emily, she seized the opportunity to drop down to the floor and embrace her mother. Cradling Piper to my chest, I watched as Millie and Emily quickly arranged themselves in a sixty-nine. It was easy to see that mother and daughter had given each other oral many times before.

Watching her sister and mother make love, Piper lay cuddled against me, casually toying with my right nipple, which stood at rigid attention. Despite my having gone off like a rocket mere moments earlier, those familiar twinges of desire were making themselves known all over again.

Soon, Millie began to come. This caused her to redouble her efforts as she licked her pubescent daughter, and a few seconds later, Emily was gasping through her own release. Millie’s lips were dripping with nectar, as was Emily’s slit, and I found myself thirsting for a taste. I was the only one there who had yet to eat pussy, and I was aching for it.

We rested in silence for a few minutes, Millie said, “Anyone else thirsty?”

“I sure am!” Piper exclaimed.

“Me too,” said Emily, and I replied with a grateful nod.

“Say no more,” Millie replied, getting to her feet and taking a long leisurely stretch. “Care for a glass of wine, Suzanne? I’ve got a lovely Cabernet.”

“Just ice water for me, thanks,” I replied.

“Girls? Lemonade for you?” Emily and Piper happily assented, and their mother padded into the kitchen. I turned off my phone’s video recorder to save power, intending to start it up again before we started off another round of sex.

Out of nowhere, the doorbell rang. I froze. Who could be stopping by now? We were all naked in the front room, which surely reeked of pussy. A mere glance through the door would tell anyone what I’d been up to – namely, sex with underage girls

To my surprise, Emily jumped to her feet and hastened to the entrance, where she peered through the peephole, announced, “Mom? They’re here!” and flung the door open. Two women and three girls were standing outside.

Numb with horror, I scrambled to conceal my nudity, but Piper grasped my arm to stop me. “It’s okay, Miss Suzanne. Don’t be scared, it’s just my aunts and cousins! Mommy said they should come by while you were here to have some more fun.”

That calmed me a bit, but my heart was still pounding as I watched the new arrivals enter. All eyes were on me, and I felt ridiculously self-conscious. It wasn’t every day I got interrupted after sex with another woman and her daughters. In fact, I’d never been walked in on after sex, not since my mother caught me masturbating at age twelve. The memory of that awful moment flashed into my mind, and the awkwardness I felt seemed to double.

“Didn’t I tell you they were coming by?” Millie asked, looking flustered.

“Uh…no. You didn’t.”

“Oh, my. I’m so sorry, Suzy! Honestly, I was sure I had. Er, I hope you don’t mind…”

I tried to keep my feelings under wraps, but honestly, I could’ve throttled Millie right then. She’d nearly given me a heart attack! “No, not really. I just wish you’d prepared me. It’s all right.”

As I spoke, the youngest of the girls walked up to me, casually stripping off her clothing along the way until she stood before me completely naked, her smooth vulva a pronounced bulge that begged for the caress of my tongue..

“I’m Melinda. Whath your name?” she said.

Squatting down, I gave this pretty child my warmest smile. “I’m Suzy, a friend of your Aunt Millie. And she tells me you’re six years old. Is that right?”

“Yeth.” Oh, my, her lisp was adorable!

I turned to the other girls. “And you’re Lori and Riley, right?”

“Yes,” Lori said, the older of the two.

“And you’re, um…”

“I’m eleven. Riley’s nine,” Lori said. She was at least three inches taller than her sister, obviously the more mature of the two.

Their mothers, Millie’s sisters, stepped forward to offer their hands. I took each one in turn as they introduced themselves as Randi and Cassie.

Randi, the older of the two, said, “Millie, I can’t believe you didn’t tell her we were coming over. She must have been terrified!”

“It’s fine,” I said. “I was shocked for a moment when Emily flung the door open with all of us naked and, well, looking like we just had sex. But I’m fine now. I should have recognized you both as her sisters.”

“As sisters, we’re a lot closer than most,” Cassie said, a twinkle in her eyes.

“You’d be surprised,” I said. “I’m doing research on women who have powerful sex drives, and from the questionnaires I’ve received, I’d say the number of sisters who engage in lesbian incest is far greater than most people think.”

“Really?” said Randi. “I always suspected that, but I’ve never met anyone who was doing research on the subject.”

Warming to the topic, I said, “Actually, that’s just a sort of sub-topic of my study. Mostly, I’m looking at the effects of a strong sex drive in children, and how it manifests itself in their adult sexuality. The truth is, I’m finding that nearly all the women who admit to having had a powerful sex drive at an early age would engage in some kind of lesbian activity with their sisters. If they had sisters, that is. The same goes for girls and their brothers, though that isn’t part of my study.”

“I think I need to have a talk with my friend Erica,” said Cassie. “She’s been sex crazy since kindergarten, I swear… and she grew up with two sisters and twin brothers!”

Randi joined in the laughter. “Christ, it must’ve been a nonstop orgy for that bunch.”

Cassie snorted. “Knowing Erica, she probably fucked all four of them!”

That put me in mind of a certain study subject, the woman who I planned to interview next. Her name was Erica, and she did, in fact, have four siblings, two sisters and two brothers. Her initial responses seemed to indicate that she had indeed indulged in sexual games with them at an early age.

I said nothing, of course, but did wonder if this might be the same Erica the ladies spoke of.

“So, shall we get comfortable?” Randi asked, glancing around the room.

“By all means,” said Millie. “That is, if you intend to enjoy yourselves.”

“Oh, we do!” Randi declared. She turned to Cassie and the sisters kissed, a long, lingering kiss with lots of tongue action. Randi’s daughters drew together and did the same. They began to undress themselves and each other until everyone in the room was naked and ready for action.

“Leth play with Aunt Millie’th friend!” little Melinda exclaimed, pointing at me.

This suggestion certainly seemed to find favor with the others. Randi, Cassie and their daughters all approached the sofa where I sat.

It occurred to me that this could have been planned beforehand. Even little Melinda seemed to know her part. She looked up at her mother and said, “Now?”

“Yes, sweetie. Now,” Cassie answered.

Melinda leaned in, took my left nipple into her mouth and began to suck, then Cassie latched on to the other. Going down on her knees, Randi slid her hands beneath my ass and pulled it forward until she had complete access to my twin holes. She placed her mouth on my anus and began to tongue me there. Lori stretched out on the sofa and started licking my pussy from the right hand side. Riley took the left side and applied her tongue to me as well. The girls seemed to be dueling to see which one could make me come first, shifting from my vagina to my labia to my clit and back again.

Five females, all blood relations, working together to give me pleasure such as I’d never experienced. Oh, I’d had my share of threesomes and even the occasional foursome, but five lovers servicing me at the same time was downright unearthly. To say I was feeling like I’d died and gone to heaven would be as meaningless as claiming the sun was a trifle hot.

A glance across the room told me Millie and her daughters were cuddled up together in the large accent chair, enjoying the show. I suppose Emily and Piper got restless and eager to join in, because they were suddenly standing on either side of me, nuzzling my face. Parting my lips, I met Millie’s daughters in a passionate three-way kiss.

Now, seven women and girls were making love to me. It was an incredible experience, but I felt a longing to give pleasure as well as receive it. Well, there was Millie, still in the chair, legs spread wide as she masturbated. Between kisses from her girls, I told her, “Come here, Millie. Let me touch your cunt.”

There wasn’t much room, and my view of Millie was mostly blocked by her daughters’ heads as they continued to kiss me, but she managed to get close enough that I could slip two fingers inside her, then start thrusting them in and out.

It occurred to me that this would have made an excellent photograph, but I’d not set my phone back up after my previous round of sex with Millie and her girls. I still did my best to picture what it would look like if someone entered the room and found us going at it.

The sheer eroticism of that image was enough to set me off. My orgasm pounded through me like an earthquake. I must have come for over a minute; or at least it seemed that way.

Utterly done in, I slumped back where I sat while the others paired off and began to couple with one another. Millie was licking eleven-year-old Lori, while Cassie and her niece Emily lay down side by side on the carpet and drifted into a deep kiss. Piper seated herself in a nearby recliner and presented her flat chest to Riley, who applied her tongue to the child’s nipples. Seating herself on the sofa, Randi pulled her niece Melinda into her lap.

I wanted to taste Melinda, the littlest of all the girls. She’d been the first of Millie’s surprise guests to greet me, and the first to undress. And there she was, seated in her Aunt Randi’s lap, the bare cleft of her sex on display. I had to lick her.

While Randi kissed her niece’s neck, her hands gliding up and down that exquisitely childish body, I went down on my knees before Melinda and took the six-year-old’s slit into my mouth, easing the tip of my tongue into her. She tasted heavenly, her opening parting for me as I licked and sucked.

The tiny, exposed jewel of Melinda’s clitoris was now pressed between my tongue and her pubic bone. I used my index finger to circle the entrance to her vagina without penetrating her, wondering if she’d ever had anything inside her before.

Randi seemed to sense my thoughts. “You can fuck her, but only with one finger,” she said, then gave my anus another long, lustful lick. I smiled into Melinda’s baby-smooth cleft and, after moistening my index finger, inserted it into her vagina. The tender folds parted, easily allowing my entrance.

Melinda squirmed and whimpered, overwhelmed by the pleasure I was giving her. It was an erotic experience beyond compare. Ever since I first identified as a lesbian, my deepest desires had revolved around making love to little girls. Now I was living out my fantasies many times over, with five enchanting nymphs to enjoy.

I knew the child’s orgasm was imminent when her hips began to buck. This was followed by a violent shudder, accompanied by a long, drawn-out cry that rose to a scream, then she slumped back into her mother’s arms. I gave Melinda a moment to recover, then raised myself to kiss her, allowing my tongue to dart between her parted lips. She eagerly matched my passion..

She was dreamy-eyed, but I wasn’t sure if it signified lust or sleepiness. Placing a tiny peck on the tip of the child’s nose, I whispered, “I loved doing that to you.”

She smiled at me. “I loved it too.”

Telling Melinda goodbye with one last kiss, I moved to Riley and Piper, both nine and, according to Millie, born only a month apart. They were busy fingering each other. These two could have been twins instead of cousins, given how similar their bare pussies were.

I had yet to fuck Riley, so I bent to apply my tongue to her clit. She immediately began to squirm when my tongue joined Piper’s finger. “Yes! Lick me!” she exclaimed. I did as she asked, and soon, she went off in what seemed to be a full-body orgasm. She shook and shivered as ecstasy claimed her.

Once she’d sagged into her cousin’s arms, I delved between Piper’s thin thighs and began to love her the same way. Riley’s hand had gone slack, so I placed my finger at the entrance to Piper’s vagina and gently slipped it into her body, using my thumb to brush her clitoris.

Like Riley, Piper began to respond immediately to what I was doing. It took less than sixty seconds for her to reach climax, her second of the day. She cried, “Oh, oh, oh!” as she came, thrusting herself against my busy hand.

I could hear the sounds of ecstasy around me, and sat up to watch. It was the erotic spectacle of a lifetime, a family of women and girls immersing themselves in the delights of lesbian incest.

I’ve never enjoyed that kind of intimacy, despite having huge crushes on my mother and my older sister not long after reaching puberty. To this day, I still occasionally masturbate to fantasies of them both.

I hugged Piper and Riley to me while the others continued to make love. Within a few minutes, everyone had come at least once. We were scattered through the room, some on the furniture, some on the carpet, all basking in the aftermath of good sex.

We took a break to refresh ourselves, and after a drink, I reluctantly announced that I had to leave. The girls were especially unhappy about that, and I explained my need to get home and begin transcribing what I could of this encounter, especially since I didn’t get anything recorded after Millie’s sisters and nieces joined the party. I would have to depend on my memory, which is very good but not photographic. Accuracy is crucial in this kind of study.

I was the only one to dress. Just before leaving my new friends, I took a moment to say goodbye to each one, sharing kisses both tender and passionate.

When I kissed Millie, she took my hand, murmuring, “Don’t be a stranger, Suzy. You’ll always be welcome at our family get-togethers. In fact, I’ll let you know when we’re planning the next one.”

“I’d love that,” I told her, and she kissed me again.

Emily bashfully asked if I’d ever be willing to have a sleepover with her. Piper quickly expressed interest, and the other three girls loved the idea as well. Their mothers left the possibility open, but something told me I’d very likely be hosting a slumber party of underage lesbians very soon.

As I drove home, I found myself fantasizing about what might happen at such an overnighter, which left me aroused all over again. I ended up unfastening my pants as the garage door closed behind me and masturbating to a frenzied orgasm in the driver’s seat.

Upon catching my breath, I went inside, took a quick shower, then wrote up my account of what had just taken place with Millie and her extended family. The next day, I put the finishing touches on this part of my study.

I’ve been thinking more and more about that sleepover with Millie’s daughters and nieces. Perhaps I’ll give Emily a call and make the invitation official.

***

Note: This concludes the interview sessions with Millie and her daughters. The next section of the study will involve the aforementioned Erica. We have an interview scheduled a few days from now. For our initial session, she has agreed to meet me at her apartment.

On to Chapter Five!

The Evil That Men Do, Chapter 12

  • Posted on February 15, 2026 at 5:18 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.

Chapter Eight: Nettie unearths more hints that kidnap victims Heather and Gina were abducted by the same man who kidnapped and brutalized Nettie and her deceased sister over a decade ago — but that man was known to have died in prison.  Gina manages to escape captivity. But Heather can’t fit through the opening they dug, and must remain behind. Nettie gets a possible fix on the girls’ captor who, while out and about, gets a flat tire — then he discovers the spare is flat as well. 

Chapter Nine: The man who kidnapped Gina and Heather must get his flat spare tire fixed, not knowing the police have been alerted to him and are searching the area. Nettie, who is also hunting for the man, manages to find his abandoned car — then, some time later, makes an even more startling discovery: little Gina, alone and weeping by an abandoned road. In the meantime, the kidnapper manages to make his escape from the area by phoning a mysterious woman to pick him up.

Chapter Ten: Mallory meets with her mother, Sharon, for the first time in months, but fails to learn the cause of the recent distance between them. Nettie is still obsessed with Jacob Brentshaw, the man who kidnapped her and murdered her sister Annamarie so many years ago, sensing he is also behind the recent kidnapping as well… but can’t get past the fact that Brentshaw was killed in prison. Her actions saved the lives of Gina and Heather, but she remains determined to keep working the case on her own. For the first time, Nettie tells her lover Hannah about her own kidnapping and Annamarie’s death, events she has refused to discuss with anyone for years.

Chapter Eleven: Terry finds himself at loose ends, questioning his current life path, and decides to open up to than his dear friend and former sex partner Nettie. She and Hannah lend a sympathetic ear, then their conversation turns to kidnappings — the recent one, as well as Nettie’s own horrific abduction over a decade earlier, when her sister was murdered. She is fast coming round to the conclusion that both kidnappings involved an accomplice.

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

Sail the Darkness
Walking through the cold
I’m not afraid
I know the wind will blow
Michael Schenker Group, 2021

“That was a cool movie,” Dawn was saying, as she and Allison made their way down the hall towards her bedroom.

“Told you,” Naomi called out, still seated on the couch. Chelsey had got up to use the bathroom.

“Night, girls,” said Halee, as the bedroom door swung shut.

A moment later, Chelsey emerged. “Ready to turn in, Naomi?”

“Sure!” Naomi responded with an eager nod.

Halee grinned. “You two have fun.”

Naomi rose from the couch, casting the blanket aside. Circling the coffee table, she paused by the arm of Halee’s chair. Taking her sister’s hand, she stroked the back of it delicately.

“Me and Chels were talking before the movie,” she said, her voice husky. “It’d be really cool if you came upstairs and hung out with us.”

Halee’s arousal instantly doubled in intensity. She hadn’t hooked up with either of the two younger girls since they’d chosen to become a couple several weeks before. Her mouth watered at the prospect of being alone and naked with the two of them once again.

She heaved a sigh. “I’d love to, but Bethany’s my girlfriend now, and we haven’t really talked about doing it with other girls—”

Chelsey came up beside Naomi, entwining fingers through her girlfriend’s hair. “That’s too bad—whoops!” She giggled. “I mean, it’s great that you’re with somebody, but too bad you can’t come and, y’know—”

Halee chuckled. “Believe me, I wish I could. Have a good time.”

As the two younger girls bounded up the stairs, Halee checked her texts. And smiled.

Five minutes later she was settling into bed, encumbered by not so much as a stitch of clothing. Through the wall she shared with Naomi, Halee could just barely hear rapturous moans intermingled with the squeaking of her sister’s bed frame.

She thumbed the call button for the number she’d already pulled up on her phone. “Hi,” Bethany replied, sounding a bit winded.

“Hi yourself. You working out or something?”

“Uh-uh. I just couldn’t wait till you called to get started.”

Halee snickered. “You naughty, naughty girl. You have no idea how wet I am right now. Hey, you mind if I put you on speaker?”

“Why would I mind?”

“Because Naomi and Chelsey are right on the other side of this wall. I don’t know if they’d be able to hear you, but…”

A moan of pleasure drifted through the phone speaker. “Oooh—that’s kind of hot, actually. What are they up to?”

“Same thing we are. I can kinda hear it.” The squeaks of her sister’s protesting bed frame were steadily growing louder and faster, and Halee could no longer just listen. Wriggling her middle finger between slick, moist lips and into the juicy canal of her cunt, she moaned, loudly enough for Naomi and Chelsey to hear.

“Put me on speaker!” Bethany exclaimed. “I want in on this.”

Using her free hand, Halee fumbled with her phone, managing to thumb the speaker button on the third try. She was massaging her clit in slow circles, squishing sounds emanating from her womanly center. She moaned again, thrusting her hips.

“Mmmmm,” Bethany purred from the other side of the connection. “Oh, Halee, this feels so fucking good.”

“Hey,” called Naomi’s muffled, unsteady voice from the other side of the wall. “Is that… Oh, God! Oh!” There was a moment’s pause. “Is that Bethany?”

“Is someone else talking?” Bethany wanted to know.

“Naomi,” Halee got out, her voice breathy and strained. “Yeah, it’s Bethany,” she called out. “She says—she says—oh God—” Muffled giggles filtered through the wall, interrupted by another moan.

“What’s going on over there, anyway?” Halee called out.

“Chelsey’s eating my—my—oh, God—Ohhhhh!”

“I didn’t catch that—what did she say?” Bethany gasped.

Halee gasped, then caught her breath. “Naomi’s getting her pussy eaten,” she moaned.

Then Naomi was crying out over and over, clearly in the throes of ecstasy. Gradually her voice subsided. Halee was rubbing her clit with wild abandon, breath hissing through gritted teeth, her hips churning. Bethany’s moans filtered through the phone speaker.

A loud cry came through the wall. “Did you hear that?” said Halee. “That—Oh! That was Chelsey.”

“I h-heard something.” Bethany got out, stumbling through her words. “Me and Chelsey—Ohhhh! W-we haven’t—oh, Jesus—haven’t met.”

“What’s happening, Chelsey?” Halee yelled. She pressed her phone against the wall, wanting Bethany to hear the reply.

“Hi, Halee!” Chelsey’s last syllable came out as a high-pitched shriek. “I’m—I’m—I’m sitting on Naomi’s face!”

A moan was wrenched from Halee’s lips, waves of pleasure intensifying at the thought of sweet little Chelsey riding her sister’s open mouth.

“Oh God, I’m coming!” Bethany screamed. “Oh God, oh God, oh my GAWWWD!”

Halee felt her own climax build, then claim her, each breath exploding from her chest, accompanied by hoarse “huh!” sounds. Finally she managed to get out, “Oh God, I just came,” then collapsed.

From the other side of the wall Chelsey was gasping for air, intermittent cries escaping her lips. Then she screamed like a banshee, a high-pitched shriek that rose in intensity before suddenly cutting off. Halee thought she heard the dull plop of a body falling to a mattress.

“Now that was an orgasm,” Halee proclaimed, still getting her wind back.

“Sure was,” a breathless Chelsey panted.

“I heard it,” said Bethany. “Sound really carries through your walls, huh?”

“It’s an old house,” said Halee.

Suddenly Laney, Halee’s Boston Terrier, began to yip furiously.

“Hush, Laney,” said Halee. The dog obligingly shut up, and Halee listened intensely, soon picking up the thud of a door closing downstairs.

“Dad’s home,” she said, a note of surprise in her voice. “Hey, Bethany, I’d better hang up. Have a good night.”

“Night. Tell Chelsey and Naomi thanks for the good time!”

Laughing, Halee signed off. “Get some sleep, you two,” she called through the thin plaster wall. “I’m gonna run downstairs for a minute.” Shrugging into her bathrobe, she exited the room, a four-legged ball of fuzz hot on her heels.

She found her dad kneeling in the foyer. Their golden retriever Tinkerbell  had come to greet him at the door, and Terry was scratching her behind the ears. “You’re back early,” she remarked.

“There was a slight change of plans,” Terry replied, getting to his feet.

“Good. Where’d you go instead?”

“I took a walk, followed by a visit with Nettie and Hannah. How was your evening? Any of the young ones give you trouble?”

Halee shrugged. “Maya was a little pissy about bedtime, because she knew we were watching a movie. Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

Terry slipped past her, making his way down the hall. “What movie?”

Halee followed, both dogs at her heels. “Monster Squad. Dawn and Allison are about the age where you let Naomi watch it, so I figured it’d be okay.”

Terry paused in the dining nook, turning his head towards her with the touch of a smile. “Solid choice. Have the dogs been walked?”

“Yeah.”

“Excellent. I think I’m going to see if I can get some writing done.”

Halee’s eyebrows lifted. “At this hour?”

Terry’s eyebrow lifted in amusement. “How late are you going to be up coding for your computer course?”

Halee’s only reply was a shamefaced grin. Terry let her off the hook with a smile and a shrug. “In any event, I have an idea of sorts, and there’s no time like the present, don’t you think?”

Halee watched her father’s retreating back as he strode down the hallway. His forays into the writing office were few and far between these days, and usually of brief duration. Did this late-night flash of inspiration mean things might be turning around for him? Or would this prove to be yet another exercise in disappointment?

The corners of her mouth curved upwards, slowly forming a grin. Beneath her sardonic exterior, Halee Wilder was an optimist at heart. “C’mon, Laney,” she said, and made her way up the stairs, her terrier close behind.

***

“You look tired,” says the teenage girl, leading the way up the stairs.

“I don’t like to sleep,” the younger, black-haired girl replies. “I have bad dreams.”

“I’ll bet you do,” says Jamie Nelson. She pulls down the ladder leading to her attic bedroom and begins to climb, beckoning Nettie to follow. Once aloft, she bypasses the old-fashioned pull-chain that turns the ceiling light on, leaving the room bathed in the glow of a half-dozen lava lamps. Easing into the battered old love seat, she waves Nettie over to join her.

Once they’re both settled, Jamie places a hand on Nettie’s knee. “This is the first time you’ve come over by yourself, little sister. What’s up?”

“Oh—everybody’s busy. Uncle Jason’s on one of his clinicals, Aunt Lisa is at work, Julie’s doing this robotics camp thing.” As she lists each person, she ticks them off on her fingers. “Anyway—I dunno. It just got quiet in the house, is all. I hope it’s okay—”

“Sure, it’s okay. I told you to come by any time, didn’t I? Wanna listen to a record?”

“Yeah!”

Pushing herself to her feet, Jamie crosses the room, Nettie trailing in her wake. Reaching her shelves full of vinyl, Jamie steps to one side, extending her arm in dramatic fashion. “Anything in particular?”

Nettie purses her lips thoughtfully. “Most of what we listen to is pretty old,” she says after a moment. “I mean, that’s great, I love it, but what do you have that’s newer?”

Jamie thinks for a moment, then draws a record from the “P” section. “Pharoah,” she says, displaying the cover. “Maybe my favorite new band. This is their second album, and it just came out last year. Interested?”

“For sure! Can I put it on?”

A moment later, the two girls are snuggling on the love seat. As the album progresses, Nettie runs a finger along the top of the older girl’s thigh, and is rewarded with a slight shiver. She wonders if Jamie might be interested in doing some of the same stuff they did last time she was there with Julie and Mallory. After the record is over, of course.

***

“Earth to Antoinette.”

Nettie’s head jerked up. She was standing in front of her record shelves, fingers resting against the spines of her Pharoah collection. Hannah was seated on the love seat, margarita in hand, gazing at her with raised eyebrows.

“Sorry,” said Nettie, giving her head a quick shake. “You into Pharoah?”

“Never heard of ‘em.”

“Then prepare to be educated.” Nettie extracted her copy of The Longest Night, the same album Jamie had played for her all those years ago.

“You okay? You kind of—zoned out there.”

“Yeah.” Placing the stylus in the groove, Nettie crossed the room, settling onto the love seat just as the full-fury assault of the opening riff slammed through the speakers. “I just got to thinking about the first time I heard this record. It was pretty much brand new at the time. Jamie played it for me.”

“And Jamie is—oh, yeah. Wasn’t she the one that used to play guitar in Mallory’s band?”

“Yup. She was—” Nettie trailed off. She picked up the glass of orange juice she had poured for herself and took a sip. She’d drunk two glasses of bourbon that evening, and was steadfastly refusing to have a third.

“You know,” she said, “I think I might have to quit drinking. I’ve got just the hint of a buzz, and it’s pissing me off. Once I get to that point, I want to get shitfaced, or at least close to it. That’s not good.”

“Would it help if I stop drinking around you?”

Nettie mulled that over for a moment. “Thanks, but no. I’m going to be around people who are drinking for the rest of my life. If I decide to quit entirely, it’s something I have to do on my own. And I haven’t decided that, yet. I’d like to hit a point where I’m like Terry—y’know, he’ll have a couple drinks two or three evenings a week, and he’s just enjoying the flavor and a light buzz. I’ve never seen him even close to drunk. I want to be able to do that, without craving more.”

Hannah was nodding slowly. “And maybe you can, in time. I think it’s great that you’re cutting back. But you were saying, about Jamie?”

Nettie set her orange juice down and laid her head against the cushion. “Remember last weekend in the tent, when you asked if I was okay? I had this sudden flood of memories while we were video chatting with Emma. It’s like I’d blocked out a good eighty percent of everything that happened during that year after Anna died, which is basically the time I spent in Dickson, then suddenly it all came back. And you know what?”

“No. What?”

Nettie smiled. “It’s almost all good stuff. The kind of stuff you want to remember, you know? It’s like I’ve been blocking all this good shit, because I’m afraid of the bad shit that comes with it. And you know, I haven’t been with those four girls all together since I came back home. Matter of fact, I haven’t seen Emma at all in ten years or so. Being with the four of them like that—it just kind of brought everything back.”

Hannah polished off her margarita. “But that’s a good thing, right?”

“Yeah, but it’s weird. Like I’ll be doing something, and it’ll trigger a memory from back then. I was looking at my Pharoah records, and suddenly I was just—I dunno. Transported back. Me and Jamie alone in her room when everyone else was busy with life. It was the coolest room—she had the whole attic in this ginormous old house her family lived in. There are a lot of other memories like that. Jamie and I got really close while I was in Dickson, and I’d forgotten all of it.” There were tears in Nettie’s eyes now. “That fucking sucks.”

“So maybe it’s time to reconnect.”

Nettie lifted her head, took another sip of juice. “Yeah. I think I’m gonna go down to Dickson when everyone is there the first week of August. Wanna come with, if you’re not working?”

“Absolutely. I do have one question, though. What the fuck were your parents doing while you were living at Julie’s house for a year?”

Nettie let out a mirthless bark of laughter. “We haven’t really talked about my folks, have we? Well—they’re batshit. Or were, in Dad’s case. They met while they were both inpatient at Prairie St. John—that’s the nut hut in Fargo. The whole fucked-up situation with us getting kidnapped, then losing Anna, drove them off the deep end. They both ended up in institutions again. Even when they got out, they weren’t really in a position to take care of me, not right away.”

“Ouch. That blows. But I think it’s good that you’re recovering your memories. I’d love to hear some of them, if you’re ready to talk.”

“Oh, I am. I just wish I could get at the important ones.”

“I don’t follow.”

Nettie’s eyes narrowed. “I still can’t remember much from when me and Anna were captives. Maybe I never will. I was pretty sick, on top of everything else. It could be those memories just—aren’t there. But part of me feels like it’s important—like if I could remember some of that, it might give me some insight into what just happened to Gina and Heather Dulcey.”

Hannah laid a hand on Nettie’s arm. “It’s probably not a thing you can force,” she said. “Just something you have to let come in its own time, if it ever does.”

“Oh, I know. And I’m going to try not to think about it too much, at least for the next couple of days. I promised you the weekend. Johnstown tomorrow?”

Hannah grinned. “Dinner and tongue exercises? Can’t wait.”

***

Pulp, thought Terry Wilder. Purest pulp. I wouldn’t read this to my dog.

The punchline, of course, being that he just had read it to his dog. Tinkerbell, curled up at his feet, had rested unperturbed as he read aloud through two chapters of a story he had tentatively entitled “Junkyard Jet Skis.” Leaning to one side, Terry scratched the dog absently on the side of the neck. She changed position slightly, an indescribable noise escaping her throat.

“It’s horseshit, isn’t it, Tink?” said Terry. “You can tell me. I won’t take offense.” Tinkerbell shifted a little to afford him better access to the scruff of her neck, but declined to venture an opinion regarding Terry’s attempt at post-apocalyptic fiction.

“No literary criticism tonight? Exactly what do I keep you around for, then?” The dog shifted position again, clearly demanding to have her belly rubbed. Terry obligingly moved his hand in that direction. The fingers of his other hand beat a restless rhythmic pattern on the arm of his office chair. For once he wasn’t looking at a dead end; the direction the story should go in the succeeding chapter was fairly clear in his mind. The question was whether the damn thing was worth pursuing to begin with.

Fuck it. It’s pulp, but it’s pulp with DIRECTION, damn it. Might as well ride this out; see where it goes.

Leaning forward, he tapped the ENTER key with his free hand, the cursor blinking at the beginning of what was to be the first paragraph of chapter three. He lifted his other hand from Tinkerbell’s belly, intending to return it to the keyboard. But before he could push his chair forward to do so, Tink rolled over, sat up, and sprang into his lap in one smooth motion. Curled up, she barely fit between the chair arms.

Terry regarded the animal sourly. “Jesus Christ. Do I have to type around you?” Rolling the chair as close to the desk as he could, he reached over the top of Tinkerbell’s silky red fur, his fingers resting lightly on the keys. “You win, fuzzball. Let’s do this, shall we?”

***

From the Diary of Mallory Kalvornek, June 12th, 2022

I don’t know. I just don’t. I’ve spent the past four hours wandering the wooded areas of the family property, and my head isn’t any clearer than when I started. Also: I didn’t realize how out of shape I am. My legs ache from the miles I walked, and my body is coated with sweat.

I thought after a few days spent in the house my great-great-grandfather built, taking a walk through the woods, revisiting my childhood playground, I’d know the right thing to do. But I’m still fucking clueless.

So many things different, so many the same. There used to be this maze of tunnels in a big bramble thicket about a half-mile into what was once the pasture, which has grown over pretty heavily, as there haven’t been cattle on the property since before I was born. I used to use that thicket as a playhouse when I was little. I even kept a bunch of plastic dishes and doll furniture out there, and I’d bring some of my dolls along when I went to play. If my cousins came to visit, it’d be a fort, a castle, a dungeon, or whatever popped into our heads at the time.

Can’t get into those tunnels now. The entrances are completely choked with brambles. When did that happen? It could have been while I was still living here; I don’t think I’ve been back to that place since I was ten or so. I never even took Julie there. I wonder if some of those old plastic toys are still there, entombed in the brambles? Probably; I don’t remember retrieving them.

The little pond is dried up. That process was already well underway when I was a kid; it was an artificial pond my grandpa created by digging out a trench from the nearby swamp. Over the years, the trench filled in with muck. No more water flow. Julie and I used to go there sometimes in high school. Julie was fascinated by the frogs, and could spend an entire afternoon watching them. Now that the water has receded, the frogs are back in the marshes. Some nights we can hear their chorus from the porch.

But a lot of the old paths I used to walk are still there; game trails of longstanding that the deer still use to this day. And there’s signs of human activity. Following a path, I found Jason’s favorite deer-hunting location. He’s got a comfy stand, complete with portable heating, in a tree at the top of a hill. I climbed up and sat in there awhile, just taking in a nice birds-eye view of the eastern section of the old pasture. It sure is beautiful, even more so than when I was a kid. With the cows long gone, the forest is gradually reclaiming the land.

I also checked out the fields, at least the ones attached to the homestead, and boy, did that bring back some memories. My renter has soybeans in this year, which is a crop my dad grew on a pretty regular basis. The bean plants are still short, but they look good. There’s been enough rain that I don’t think they’ve had to run the irrigator thus far.

As I looked out across the fields, my mind flashed back to when I was a little girl, and I used to ride on the tractors or the combine with Daddy. That stopped around the time I was seven or eight. Like playing in the bramble thicket tunnels or so many other things in life, it’s not something that ended with any kind of purpose; it just sort of tapered off.

Then in high school, once we were old enough, Dad started hiring Julie and me to do fieldwork, an arrangement we continued to draw on for spending cash when we’d return for the summer during our college years. I’ve spent a lot of time out there, going back and forth across the fields in a tractor cab. Can’t say I miss it, exactly, but there’s a certain nostalgia attached to those younger days.

I sold the tractors and field equipment the year Dad passed—that’s how I got the money to settle the surprisingly stiff inheritance tax. All that’s left in the machine shed are Dad’s tools and an old John Deere model R tractor from the early 1950s that Dad was planning to restore and never got around to. I couldn’t quite bring myself to sell that one. The shed feels empty without the big tractors, the combine, or the other bits of machinery that Dad preferred to keep out of the rain.

The house is falling into disrepair, and some decisions about its status will have to be made soon. Either I need to fix it—which will NOT be cheap—or just board it up permanently. Dad was never great about maintaining the place to begin with, and was unable to do even a token amount during the last year of his life. It’s still livable, but that condition is growing marginal. All Dad’s stuff is still inside; I never went through it. My bedroom remains unaltered, except for the stuff I took with me when I moved out.

On a more humorous note, I either forgot—or maybe never noticed back then—what a pile of junk this old piano is! I got it tuned early last week, the day after we had the power turned back on, and it wasn’t really worth the money. It’s got a thin, reedy sound, lacking in both body and sustain. The high notes just kinda go plink. It’s very old, almost a century, so you’d think it’d be worth something as a collectible, but really it’s not. There are zillions of these old budget uprights all over America, and mostly people have to pay to get someone to take them away. There’s a warm and fuzzy sort of nostalgia to sitting in the living room plunking around on the instrument I practiced with for all those years, but as I prepare for my fall concert series, I’ll be using the keyboard I brought along.

Bottom line: I’m no closer to deciding what I should do with the property than when we first turned into the driveway a little over a week ago. I know I want to hang onto it, but that’s a massive commitment I’m far from certain I can handle, and it would be a hell of a lot to ask of Julie.

Speaking of Julie, I suppose I should take a shower before she gets back. She’s out fishing on Lake Anne with her dad and sister. They invited me along, but Jason’s bass boat isn’t really big enough for four people to effectively lure-fish out of and besides, I’d been kind of needing an afternoon on my own to wander the farm. Not that it helped much, damn it.

Anyway—shower. Got to freshen my smelly self up before Julie arrives, because for some reason, despite all this crap floating around in my head, I’m as horny as a bull moose in rut.

***

“Good morning, Nettie. How are you?” Bridgett Ramscone leaned back in her office chair, a cup of coffee in the hand that wasn’t holding her phone. Through the big window set into her office wall, she looked out upon the cubicle farm that comprised her domain at the DEA’s Minneapolis office. She wondered why Nettie would be calling her out of the blue; she hadn’t heard a peep from her since they’d parted ways in that Virginia hotel over a week before.

“All right, you?” Nettie’s tone said she wasn’t in the mood for small talk, but would consent to play along.

“It’d be better if it wasn’t pissing rain. It’s been coming down non-stop for three straight days.”

“Yeah, it’s about the same here. Look, Bridgett, I have a question for you.”

Bridgett pursed her lips. “I might or might not have an answer.”

“How does a DEA agent go about getting information? Like, if you wanted to know about a person, or a business, or, you know, an organization—”

Bridgett sat up straight. She’d wondered when this was coming—and intended to use it for her own ends. “Databases. Records. Some stuff we have in-house access to, other times we have to make phone calls, wave our badges under people’s noses, occasionally kiss a little ass. Why?”

Nettie hesitated for a moment, then plunged ahead. “I’m interested in a few details regarding the Dulcey girls’ kidnapping, is all.”

“That so?”

“Bridgett—”

“Stop.” Nettie went silent. Bridgett took a sip of coffee before she went on. “Listen to me very carefully, Nettie. This is not our case anymore. If we’re being honest, it never really was. We’ve already pushed the boundaries, and we only got away with it because endangered children were involved. Now that they’re not, well—”

Nettie’s sigh was audible through the phone connection. “Okay, look. It’s not really the Dulcey girls I’m interested in. What I really want is some stuff related specifically to Jacob Brentshaw. I—”

“Brentshaw is dead, Nettie. We’ve covered this.”

“Don’t give me that crap.” Nettie’s voice had gone ice-cold. “If you really believed that, you’d never have contacted me about the Dulcey kidnapping in the first place, so let’s just cut the shit, Bridgett.”

Bridgett sighed. She’d avoided giving this line of thinking an overabundance of houseroom, but she couldn’t deny her suspicion that something had gone horribly awry within the corrections system. “What exactly is it you want to find out, Nettie?”

Nettie blew out her breath. “Well, let’s start with the reason I want access to the Dulcey case. Did they get a facial sketch from Gina and Heather?”

Bridgett shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably. I could find out.”

“How would you go about that?”

Bridgett’s mouth stretched into a tight little smile. This was the moment she’d been angling for. “What you’re really asking is how you can find out. The answer for the moment is—you can’t. You have to go through me. Want to change that?”

Nettie was silent for a long moment. Finally, she spoke. “I know where you’re going with this, Bridgett, and the answer is that I can’t leave what I’m doing. What you’re offering is something I want in a lot of ways, but I won’t, I can’t—

“I know you think that,” said Bridgett, “and I think I even know why. But there’s something I want you to consider. You saved the lives of two children last week. If not for you, the perp would have got his tire fixed and gone back to find Gina missing and Heather still trying to claw her way out. He’d have most likely killed Heather, and Gina would never have made it out of the woods. You single-handedly saved two little girls. How often does that actually happen in your current job?”

“Okay, not often—but it’s not like it’s something you do every day, either.”

“The point remains that there’s more than one way to help people, and honey, you’ve got a gift. You’re a one-in-a-million talent. Can you honestly say that about what you’re doing now?”

Nettie snorted. “I’m not even sure that’s a thing with what I’m doing now. Still—”

“I know it’s not. Oh, I’m aware that you’re an outstanding paramedic, because every damn person I’ve come across that’s worked with you gives rave reviews. Still, there’s a limit to what that means. You’re obviously better than most, but at a job that thousands of people do, and do at least reasonably well. What I’m telling you is that you’ve got a god-given natural aptitude for something that damn few people can do at all. I’ve got departmental training and years of experience, but if I had to choose between the two of us for someone to pick out the right clue from a heap of information and extrapolate to a logical conclusion—well, fuck. I’d pick you.”

“I—” Nettie seemed to trip over her words. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll think over what I said. I meant every word.”

“Fair enough. In the meantime, can you help me run some stuff down?”

Bridgett sighed. “I shouldn’t. We’d be sticking our noses in where we have no business. Tell me what you’re looking for, Nettie. I reserve the right to say no.”

“Okay. From the Dulcey case, I want to know if a sketch was taken. If it was, can you get a digital copy?”

Bridgett thought for a moment. “I sort of have an, um—an in with Latisha Miller. I could probably get it that way. I have to think they took one.”

“Also, can you find out if anyone showed the girls pics of Brentshaw?”

“I’m sure they didn’t. Why would they? That’s a closed case. Nettie, this is dangerous territory at best.”

Nettie heaved another sigh. “Okay. I have a list of names here from the old files. Known associates and relatives of Brentshaw. Can you run them and find out which ones are still alive, and their current information? Phone numbers, addresses, all that?”

Bridgett sat bolt upright. “Now hold on there, cowgirl.”

What, for chrissakes?”

“What precisely are you planning to do with this information?”

“Look it over. Try to narrow it down to likely accomplice candidates. See if I can get some insight into who might have been helping him—and if I’m right, who might be helping him now. You don’t seriously think he hoofed it all the way to the nearest bus stop, do you?”

Bridgett rubbed her eyes. “No. I’m pretty convinced he had help, or we’d have corralled him. But I’m also not sold that your Brentshaw theory isn’t all wet.”

“It’s still worth looking into, and I’m not even doing it on your time. What’s your problem, exactly?”

“My problem is what you’re likely to pull. If I get this info for you, I want your word that you’re not going to be tracking these people down. This is a damn dangerous road, do you hear what I’m saying? If you think you’ve got something, you don’t go off and pursue it on your own. You come to me with it. Are we clear?”

“Crystal.” Nettie’s tone was sour.

“Okay, said Bridgett. “Text me the names, and I’ll pull the info and get back to you. Anything else?”

“Yeah—but you’re not gonna like it.”

“If I don’t like it, I can tell you to go to hell.”

Nettie burst out laughing at this, and Bridgett joined in, easing the tension a notch.

Nettie took a deep breath. “Any chance of getting the prison records of Brenshaw’s death?”

Bridgett froze for a moment, thinking hard. She took a sip of coffee before she answered. “Maybe,” she said slowly. “But it might not be that simple. This is one of those things that’d probably require an agent to visit the facility. Someone with a flair for ass-kissing, because they’re not going to like the insinuation that they might have fucked up somehow. I don’t have the authority to make them cooperate with us. Miller might, but no way is she going to use it based on what we have. Worse, it’s not local. He was killed in the high security facility in Tucson.”

“So no.”

“So not at the moment. You’d have to be able to provide real evidence that Brentshaw is in fact not dead, or it’s most likely a wasted trip.”

“Okay,” said Nettie. “I guess that’s where we start. If you can get me a look at the artist’s sketch, and run the names I’m gonna text in a few minutes, we can go from there.”

“Sounds good. Remember what I said, Nettie. About everything. We’ll talk soon.”

On to Chapter Thirteen!

A Love Letter to My Daughter

  • Posted on February 10, 2026 at 3:28 pm

Note from JetBoy: Friends, I’m delighted to present a new erotic story from hornykate — her first in many years, far as I know. She turned out some lovely tales back in the day for Leslita, several of which can be found in our Archive. She was on a real streak for a few months, then vanished. I was one of her biggest cheerleaders at the time, so it was a genuine thrill to receive the story you see below. 

One complication, however: hornykate seems to have vanished once more. I’ve not had a response to multiple emails, and have no idea if she’s even seen the final draft I sent her. But since she did submit the story with the desire to see it posted, I’ve chosen to make this version public, with the understanding that she can request that it be revised or taken down at any time.

Thank you for your beautiful story, Kate. Hope I’ve done it justice… and I also hope to hear from you again some day. 

***

By hornykate

My dear darling daughter,

I’ve read somewhere about how writing a letter, even one that will never be sent, can be cathartic. I think it’s time for me to compose such a letter. I’m not sure you’ll ever read it, but it will be good for me to get these thoughts and impressions set down in print.

You’re now twelve years old, just beginning to find your own way in the world. You have your very own girlfriend, along with the freedom to explore your own sexuality, to walk life’s roads with new people, new friends, and, yes, new lovers.

I hope you have many lovers, whether male or female. That doesn’t mean I want you to be promiscuous. Instead, I want you to experience the bohemian way of life, the life I’d always wanted for myself. To be confident, courageous, and flirtatious. To fully explore your erotic side, like a character from an Anais Nin story.

But let me get to the point of this letter. I want to explain to you, and myself, how I started out as a mother who loved you with undying affection, then found myself feeling something more. Without meaning or expecting to, I fell completely in love with you. .

Let me tell you about your father. He was French (still is, I expect), a traveling artist with whom I had a brief but passionate affair. One night, we threw caution to the winds after a bottle of wine, declared our love for one another, and, through our unprotected union that night, created you.

Unfortunately, as soon as he found out I was carrying his child, he fled back to the country of his birth, and there he remains. If you meet him in later life, be kind and forgiving. He wasn’t a bad man. But he did leave us, and then we were our own – just you and me.

Now I want to write about my love for you.

I adored you from the moment you came into being, of course. You were my little miracle. My eighth wonder of the world. My alpha, my omega, my all. I felt incapable of containing the love I felt. It overwhelmed me. Sometimes it was frightening, but mostly I was filled with unbounded joy, as if you were an elixir that gave me an unshakable sense of self. There’s a quote from Love Labour’s Lost that always stuck with me: “When love speaks, the voice of all the gods make heaven drowsy with the harmony.” That’s how I felt.

But I loved you even before you were born. I loved you in my womb, I loved you in my heart, my soul, everything that constituted who I am. My very DNA was filled with love for you. I believe you existed before you were even conceived – and I adored you then. too.

As a little girl, you would often come to my bed at night. Sometimes I’d lie awake, wanting you to join me. Some nights you did, other nights you didn’t.

On those nights you shared my bed, I found enormous satisfaction in lulling you back to sleep. You would lie there – restless, even fidgety – and I’d be above you, resting on an elbow, doing my best to coax you back into the land of Nod. I’d stroke your face with the backs of my fingers, caress your ears, your neck, your shoulders. I’d kiss your forehead, your cheeks, your nose. Sometimes, I felt a strange impulse to kiss you in other places, too, but of course, I didn’t.

Even when you were a toddler, I realized there was something inappropriate about my feelings for you and how I indulged them. The few times I kissed your lips and allowed it to linger, I remonstrated with myself that I shouldn’t, really. A mother wasn’t meant to kiss her child like that. Then I’d tell myself it was just a maternal impulse… and honestly, what harm could there possibly be in a mother’s kisses? I was never completely certain about the right and wrong of it, but still took immense pleasure in the sensation of your sweet lips against mine.

Then you turned seven.

You actually helped me make your birthday cake. It was a two-layered chocolate sponge that we filled with whipped cream and strawberry jam, and decorated, with wild abandon, with chocolate ganache, chocolate buttons, and all sorts of crazy sugared decorations. We had such fun! I still think back to that day, warmed inside by the joy it brought us.

I suspect an extra-large helping of cake contributed to you feeling restless that night. And so you came to me. But before that, I remember lying in bed, waiting for you to slowly open my door, to tiptoe across the room and slip into my bed. I remember. I remember as if it were only yesterday.

I’ll also confess here and now, in this letter that will never be sent, that I ached for you. I wanted you. You were just seven years old. Still, I longed for you. And you came.

I heard the door, the familiar high-pitched whine of squeaky hinges. The light padding of feet, you clambering onto the bed, me pushing the covers down. And then you were in my arms, and I held you like I never wanted to let go. You were my strength and my weakness.

I’d chosen to sleep in the nude that evening, and when I asked if you wanted to be naked too, you didn’t reply, just took your oversized t-shirt off, leaving you in Hello Kitty knickers.

You know how much I love you as a mother, of course… but there’s more, much more to my love than meets the eye. That’s the reason I’m writing this letter, to confess, to open my soul and reveal all manner of inner truths.

You see, my darling, I was sexually attracted to you. I think I always have been. Certainly for some years. The beauty of your face, the flawless lines and curves of your body.

Remember the red two-piece swimsuit you wore when you were five? That was as much for my pleasure as yours. I loved watching you frolic around the garden, running through the sprinkler and getting wet, the water running in rivulets down your body, droplets that remained like jewels on your skin, only enhancing your fairytale beauty. Did I want to be your lover, even then? I think so, even if I had yet to understand the true nature of my feelings.

Now there you were, sharing Mommy’s bed, wearing nothing but cute underpants. I stroked your face, your shoulders, your flat chest. I was delighted by your tiny nipples, how quickly they responded to my touch. I felt them stiffen, ever so slightly. I kissed one, then the other. I licked them. I gently took one between my teeth, then raised my head to meet your surprised gaze. I told you how much I loved you, how beautiful you were.

Then I kissed your mouth. It was a motherly kiss, I told myself. But it wasn’t. I wanted it to be more, a lover’s kiss. I longed for you to respond. And on this night, you did. As my lips parted, so did yours, and our tongues touched. I suppose it’s a cliché to describe such a pivotal, breathtaking moment as being like an electric shock, but I can’t think of any words that describe it better.

My hand rested on your hip, but what I really wanted was to touch between your legs. I ached for sexual contact, but at the same time, I was genuinely fearful – of your response, of the consequences of my actions, of how it might affect our relationship. So instead, I began to run my hand up and down your leg, steadily moving higher until I was stroking the softness of my little girl’s thigh.

I was taken by surprise when you began to slowly spread your legs. Our eyes met, and I saw something in them that stole my breath away. It was a needful look, as if you hungered for more of Mommy’s touches. Was that really what you wanted, or was my imagination running away with me?

I got my answer when you reached down to take my hand, pressing it to your tummy. The tips of my fingers were less than an inch away from my secret, forbidden desire.

How to describe the excitement I felt at that moment? No words could do it justice.

It was raining, I remember. My window was open, and I could hear the patter of rain on the leaves, on the windowsill. My senses were so alive right then that every drop seemed to make itself felt. That’s when I  touched you there for the first time. I touched your slit through your underpants, gently stroking up and down, feeling the warmth of your little-girl cunt underneath.

It was a beautiful moment, one that had me glowing inside. But I wanted this to be more than just my own experience, I wanted you to feel it too. I wanted you to know pleasure, to share this bliss.

Almost before I had the chance to think about what I was doing, I began to nuzzle your flat chest again… but this time it was more than a mother’s playful kisses. Now I was making love to you, showering your childish body with the same lustful attention I might lavish on a woman.

Did you understand that I was showing you a whole new kind of love? Were you conscious of the difference? It seemed so to me. I heard it in the way you whispered, “Yes, Mommy, yes!” while I was kissing, licking, sucking your penny-sized nipples. I felt your fingers twine through my hair as I trailed kisses down your body, lips brushing each ridge of your rib cage, your belly button, your tummy, stopping and lingering at the cleft of your sex, still gently stroking it through the soft cotton.

I was in a trance, mesmerized by your beauty, by my dizzying love for you, by my hunger for you. And that night, I confess, that hunger overcame all. Giving you every chance to stop me, I slowly, slowly tugged your panties down and off, and it felt like a symbolic event of gargantuan proportion.

I could hardly believe it was happening at the time, but I lay down before you, paused to draw in a noseful of that enchanting little-girl scent… and kissed your cunt. Yes, I kissed you there. And just as unbelievably, you drew your thighs even farther apart, and I gazed in awe as my precious child opened herself up to me. So I kissed you there again, running my tongue along your slit. With my fingers I parted your outer lips, those sweet puffy outer lips, then covered your opening with my mouth. I was stroking your thighs, feeling the firm flesh, taut and unblemished.

I felt your hips move in response, gently at first: a clenching of the muscles, a slight twitching of the legs, then a whimper escaping your lips. I urged you on, the pressure of my tongue increasing little by little, your motions becoming more urgent.

Raising my head from between your legs, I whispered to you, my precious girl. Saying how much I loved you, how much I wanted you. Then I returned to my work, applying my tongue to the tiny jewel of your clit.

There I was, literally making love to you, to my child. By then, I’d crossed the line of what most would see as the boundary between right and wrong, but at that moment, such distinctions meant nothing to me. All I cared about was your happiness

I heard your breathing quicken, become short and staccato, and knew my little girl was experiencing sexual pleasure for the very first time. I was thinking, Come for me, baby. Come for Mummy, let Mummy give you the good feeling, the special feeling.

And just like that, your body stiffened for a few seconds, a long, drawn-out cry breaking from your lips. Then you relaxed, sinking back into the sheets as if drained of all energy, legs slowly closing as I sat up. I could hear your breathing; heavier, more laboured, like you’d just run to me across the park… and I rejoiced. My little girl had experienced her first orgasm, and I’d been the one to make it happen.

I took you in my arms, brushing your cheek with a tender kiss. With my left hand I caressed your back, your neck, ran my fingers through your hair – a mother’s touch. But my right hand drifted down to stroke and cup your bottom, fingers straying between those angel-soft cheeks to touch your rosebud. This was purely sexual; nothing maternal about it, though it was done with all the love in my heart.

That was when I knew this couldn’t be a one-time thing. If you were willing, my beautiful child, then from that day forward, the two of us would be lovers.

You shyly asked me why I’d kissed you ‘down there’ and at first I was at a loss as to how best to respond. Finally I asked “Did you enjoy it?”

You gave a bashful nod. “It was nice, Mummy.”

“I’m glad, baby girl,” I murmured, cradling you to me. “I did that to you because… well, I wanted to love you in a new way. A different way.”

Your brow furrowed slightly. “Different…?”

I chose my words carefully, knowing our relationship was at a potential crossroads. “You already know how much I love you more than anyone or anything. The kind of love a mum naturally has for her child. When I hold you…” I cuddle you to me, nuzzling your neck. “…you feel that love, don’t you?” I gave your ear a playful nibble.

Yes, Mummy!” you squealed, giggling and squirming deliciously in my arms.

“Good. Well, tonight, I wanted to do more than just love you. So… I made love to you. Remember how we kissed just now?”

“Uh-huh,” you said, nodding eagerly. “I liked those kisses. Can we do them all the time?”

“I’m glad to hear you ask for that, baby girl. It’s how lovers kiss. And that’s how I want to be with you.”

A glimpse of understanding appeared in your eyes. “You mean… like girlfriends?”

My heart was pounding, knowing we’d reached the point of no return. “Yes… yes, that’s right. See, I’m in love with you, dearest. I’ll always, always be your mum, but I’d like it very much if we could be girlfriends, too. Then we could share those nice kisses and touch each other and do all the things I just did to you whenever we like. But only if that’s what you want, okay?”

You were silent for a long while, but finally gave a thoughtful nod. “I’d like that, Mummy.”

I went from frightened to exhilarated in an instant. Hugging you to me, I whispered, “Oh, my darling child, you’ve made me the happiest mother in the world.” I buried my lips in your sweet-smelling hair.

“Mummy?” you said in a whisper, as though we were in danger of being overheard.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Could you maybe… do it to me some more?”

Oh, my precious daughter. We came together in a tender kiss. This time you were first to respond with your tongue, and I could have wept from joy as it hesitantly touched mine. The kiss soon deepened, and we melted into each other’s arms.

My love was a boundless ocean, my love was a poem that filled a thousand volumes, my love held the universe. All that and more was in our kiss.

When our lips finally parted, I began to nuzzle my way downward again – your chin, your throat, your chest, and lower; your tummy, your hips, your legs, then down to your toes, kissing each one like I was performing a ritual. Finally I lay between your parted legs, stroking your most private of places. And like the gatekeeper of a secret garden, you let me in.

I was making love to you for the second time, and it felt different. It was different. Because you’d asked me to.

Should I have justified myself that way? You wanted it, but did that give me the right to go down on my seven-year-old child? Probably not. No, definitely not. But I’d already fallen down the rabbit hole. And I looked up at you as you looked down at me, and when I kissed your smooth slit, you closed your eyes and your head fell back on the pillow, wearing an expression of purest bliss.

I kissed your cunt. I licked your cunt. I made love to your cunt. You were my daughter, my little girl, the life force I’d carried for nine months, that I’d fed and sustained, and painfully but gratefully given birth to, the little girl with whom I’d made a cake a few hours earlier. Now there I was, loving you, wanting you to feel the pleasure of sexual release, doing my utmost to make you come. Yes, this was for my pleasure, for my joy, my ecstasy, but that could only be realized through your pleasure, joy and ecstasy.

And you came.

This time, the signs of impending orgasm were more obvious, as though our first time was a trial run, a practice. Your legs threatened to close, but kept springing open like a bear trap in reverse, your back arched, your short breaths punctured the air, your hips moved forward and back, forward and back, I felt your hands on my head, and I was thinking of how I wanted you to want me like I wanted you, to need me like I needed you. And in the midst of these erratic thoughts, you came. You came delicately and beautifully, legs spread wide for me.

Then we held each other again, sharing a few deep, juicy kisses. You asked me about the unusual flavour of my lips, and I explained that you were tasting yourself, your essence. “I like it,” you whispered.

We settled in for the night, your arms around my neck, our bare bodies nestled together beneath the damp sheets, and you fell asleep. I lay awake for a few minutes, happier than I’ve ever been.

There. I’ve written enough about our first time. If I carry on I feel I’ll become mawkish and sentimental, and I feel as if I’ve already gushed about you enough.

Then there are the many, many times you and I have made love since then. The last five years have seen you ripen into a passionate, giving lover who knows every way to make her mummy feel good. But that’s for another day. .

I’ll want to write more, that much I know. This exercise did me a world of good. Yes, it was cathartic. Yes, it helped. Oh, my baby girl, my love, my lover. This story is far from over.

Love, Mummy

xxxooo

The End

Lollipop Lane, Chapter 3

  • Posted on February 5, 2026 at 6:18 pm

by Emma

Chapter Three: My Tushy’s Cute, so She Licked It

The garage door rolled open with a purr, and when we slid inside I felt like I was unexpectedly being let in on the greatest secret of my life. The moment the engine stopped, the house’s side door burst open.

Mommmyyy!” came the high-pitched squeal, just before a blur of blue and pink barreled toward the car like a heat-seeking missile of Care Bear dopamine.

I barely got the door open before she launched herself inside—and into me.

Hi!” she chirped, already wrapping herself around me. I instantly thought of a cat in heat, which only thrilled me more. “Are you Mommy’s date? You’re so pretty. You smell like cocoa, I love it—can I hug you? I’m hugging you!”

She was already doing it.

The girl was in socks, wearing just a baby-blue hoodie with floppy bunny ears and the tiniest undersized pair of ruffled panties I’d ever seen. Her thighs were strong for such a tiny thing, but her skin was soft and warm.

And she smelled so, so unmistakably horny.

I already knew the smell, obviously—I’ve been horny since I first had a crush on Ms, Wicker, my kindergarten teacher, back when I was eight. This girl smelled like she spent every waking hour on the edge, including the one that had just passed.

“Mmm… you’re gonna love it here… Oh, I hope Mommy adopts you, so we can be sis—”

“Bunny,” Miss Ashcroft said lightly, stepping out and smoothing her hands along the child’s panty-covered bottom, like it was simply the most natural think in the world to touch a little girl there by way of greeting. “This is Lily, our special guest for the evening. Now, what do we say to our guests…?”

Bunny looked up at me with sparkling eyes and a dizzying grin.

“Welcome to Lollipop Lane, Lily,” she said sweetly, bouncing a little. “Do you like my tail?” She bounced out of the car and spun round. A bunny-tail plug peeked out from the back of a hole sewn into her undies, white and puffy and wagging as she wiggled her hips.

It was a butt plug. A tiny, meant-for-young-girls butt plug.

Reader, I loved her.

♡ ⚢ ♡ ⚢ ♡

The door from the garage led straight into a house that didn’t feel like a house—more like a boutique hotel, curated by someone deeply, outrageously refined. Velvet drapes at every tall window, crown molding, soft warm light glowing from chandeliers, the walls painted in deep wine red and sultry creams, and every piece of furniture looked like it had been designed for a church gathering one hour, BDSM sinning the next.

My soaked zombie-girl socks made little squeaking noises on the marble.

“Come here, daughter mine.” Miss Ashcroft set her keys in a porcelain dish and turned, cupped Bunny’s face in one elegant hand, and kissed her. Not a peck. A kiss. Slow. With tongue.

Bunny moaned into it, rising to her tiptoes.

My pussy ached so hard I thought my knees would buckle. I watched, frozen, hypnotized, as Bunny melted into that kiss like sugar on the tongue. The way Miss Ashcroft held her so firm and yet elegantly, it sent a shiver straight through the filthiest corners of my mind. This wasn’t just taboo. It was designed to obliterate the rules of normalcy, a sin to be flaunted without the possibility of blinking.

What remained of my conscience screamed that this was wrong-wrong-WRONG—but my pussy whispered, is it, though? I had to bite my own lip just to keep from making a noise. I couldn’t look away. I didn’t want to.

I wanted more. I wanted in. My conscience could go jump in the nearest lake. Without a second thought, I banished it.

When they parted, Miss Ashcroft purred, “Show our beautiful guest to the bath. Poor thing—she’s chilled to the bone and needs a moment.”

“Yes, Mommy! C’mon, Lily!” Bunny seized my hand, her fingers warm and slightly sticky, and practically dragged me down the hallway. “Bathroom’s this way! It’s my favorite room, besides the cuddle corner and the smut nook!”

“The what?”

Noooothing! You’ll see! Now, let’s get you out of those wet clothes and into something cozy! You want bubbles? I hope you like bubbles. You want me to stay and rub your—?”

I nearly tripped over an oriental rug as I entered the bathroom.

The place was insane.

The room was a fantasy in and of itself. There was a giant clawfoot tub big enough to sleep in, already full, steam rising from the freshly drawn water, bubbles piled high like whipped cream. Everything smelled like roses. A tray floated on the water’s surface, laden with delicate soaps, pink bath salts, and, casual as a kiss, two waterproof vibrators nestled in placement grooves like utensils.

“Okay,” I whispered. “This is so not an Airbnb.”

Bunny clapped her hands like she was summoning a puppy. “C’mon, clothes off! Hup-hup! Strip! Hang ‘em right there—oh, you are a zombie princess. Look at you, you’re so pretty-pale! Let’s get you all clean and pink and happy. Especially, um, downstairs. Know what I mean?”

“I… I don’t usually…”

She skipped over to the tub and plucked one of the vibrators from the tray with reverent glee. “These are waterproof and super good, and since you’re a guest you can absolutely give yourself cummies if you want, Mommy said so.” Then she leaned in close, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, lips brushing my ear. “You’re safe here, Lily. Make yourself feel as good as a sleepy kitten. You don’t have to be anything at Lollipop Lane except yummy. Okay, now I’ve gotta go help Mommy and see if she wants any more kisses anywhere.”

And with that, the hyper-happy-horny girl was gone.

I stripped slowly, dizzy with nerves and arousal, hanging my drenched zombie-girl outfit on a hook shaped like a swan. The art on the walls didn’t calm me much. One renaissance-era painting showed a woman being drowned by several mermaid sirens. Beside it was a Japanese manga image of a crying, screaming girl being mounted and licked by a pack of wolves. It was dark and poetic and horrible, and I couldn’t look away.

Carefully climbing into the tub, I sank into the steaming water with a moan, both of my nipples peeking just above the line like misbehaving children. Heh. My nipples are like me and Bunny, I mused.

Almost immediately, the door creaked open.

Hiiii!” Bunny sing-songed, peeking around the frame with wide, innocent eyes. “I swear I wouldn’t normally interrupt, but I kinda forgot something.”

I couldn’t help but smile. There was something so cute about her fake-shyness, the little perv. “And what would that be, Bunny?”

“I reaaally have to go tinkle.”

“Oh…well…”

“I promise you won’t see my private parts!” she chirped, shimmying out of her bunny-ears hoodie for some reason. After all, she wasn’t even wearing panties underneath. “You can peek if you want, but I just gotta…” She straddled the toilet backwards like it was a barstool, her cute tanlined bottom facing me, the tip of her bunny tail grazing a dimple on the left of her spine.

There was a fresh pink bite mark on her left cheek. A red lipstick kiss on the right.

“Ahhhh,” she moaned exaggeratedly as she peed. “Hey! You’re not peeking, are you?”

“You know I am!” I blurted, cheeks burning. I’d never watched another girl, well… go.

“It’s okay.” She looked over her shoulder and smiled. “I like that. What do you think, should I…?” She pointed a finger at the roll of triple-ply Charmin, her head bent quizzically. “I mean, Mommy likes it when I don’t, a lot of girls do, but we have guests tonight…”

I blinked at her. “You’re… not embarrassed?”

“Um, no?” She looked at me like I’d just asked if the moon was embarrassed about glowing. “I mean, I used to be. Then Mommy told me it was beautiful and that it meant I was healthy and hydrated and excited. Now it just feels… normal to be perverted.” She beamed. “Kinky, but normal! You should drink lots of water, by the way, that keeps your tinkle from being too strong. Unless you’re into that. Some girls are. Mommy’s not, but I have a friend on the Lane who licks right after anyone—”

Ohmigod!” I squeaked, hiding my blush with soapy palms.

“Uh-huh!” She hopped off the potty and leaned toward me, down on both knees, chin on the tub’s edge, eyes sparkling. “Don’t knock it till you’ve been held down by two babysitters and told to be a tushy-girl while one of them licks your bottom and calls you a pretty tinkle princess.”

My jaw dropped.

Bunny giggled harder. “Aww, you’re so pretty when you’re embarrassed! I know you’re shy, but don’t worry, I just know you’ll feel safe enough to show your real side any second now.”

I didn’t know if I wanted to hide… or drink a gallon of water.

Just then, a knock on the doorframe. “Bunny.” Miss Ashcroft’s voice. Stern.

Bunny froze. “Yes, Mommy?” she squeaked.

“Down, darling. Not right now. Our dinner guests will be arriving shortly.”

Bunny sighed, dramatically wilting like a flower denied sunlight. “But Moooommyyyy, she was gonna let me touch her princess paaarts!

“I’m sure she was. And she’ll still be here after hors d’oeuvres. And so will her princess parts.”

Bunny grumbled and pouted her way out of the bathroom, wiggling her fingers to wish me bye-bye as she retreated. That cute bunny-tail butt plug wriggled to and fro as she walked.

Miss Ashcroft’s voice followed after her, cool and commanding: “Towel warmers, my darling. And let her borrow some of your clothes, appropriate for the table. She’s a guest, not a snack. Yet.

I stared at the door. Then down at my nipples, still just above the bubbles.

Then back at the sex toys floating in their tray.

Then up. Because Miss Ashcroft hadn’t left.

She was standing just inside the doorway, arms folded, her smile subtle.

“I find,” she said, her voice unhurried and rich, “that there is nothing more tragic than repression in the presence of opportunity. Lily, you need to understand that no appetites are shamed here, no curiosities discouraged. If it harms no one, and pleases the self, then in this house, it is welcomed.

Her eyes lingered on me, then flicked to the vibrators. “Yes,” she murmured, as if I’d asked the question aloud. “That includes what’s within reach. Even now. Especially now, in the presence of others.”

She walked to the bathroom mirror, her bare feet padding on the tile, then began to disrobe.

I couldn’t look away.

“You may think me strange, Lily,” she said lightly, unbuttoning her blouse and dropping it casually to the side. No bra. I could only, just barely, see the outer curve of one breast. She applied fresh lipstick—the same deep wine-red as the kiss on Bunny’s bottom. “But I prefer to be dressed with intention, and then undone only when the moment deserves it.”

She unzipped and slipped her skirt off next, her ass bare but far a fuck-me-and-be-nasty g-string.

God.

Her ass was perfect. An absolute ten, curvy and feminine and soft. My hands itched to fondle it.

She continued to dabble powder across her cheekbones as she spoke. “You watched Bunny when she came back in, didn’t you?” she asked, gesturing with one hand towards the toilet.

I swallowed. “Yes, Miss Ashcroft.”

“Did it excite you?”

“…lots…”

“Good girl. I want you to imagine kissing my daughter, Lily. I want you to remember how it felt when you saw me kiss her. I took her soft little tongue in my mouth and I sucked it, the same way she did to me.”

My heart pounded.

“I want you to imagine how that bunny-tail plug feels when it is pressed against her tiny star. I was the first person to penetrate her there, Lily. I licked her bottom hole, then I fingered her there…and when the time came for toys, I used the two you see there in the tray.”

Miss Ashcroft bent forward slightly to examine the curve of her lashes in the mirror, and that motion—that motion, bending forward while my eyes were locked on her nearly bare ass—sent a surge of liquid heat flooding between my legs.

My hand moved without thinking, reaching for the smaller wand with its silicone tip, already glistening from the steam. I lowered it gently beneath the bubbles, deciding in a heartbeat that I was done trying to be reserved, done with pretending that I wasn’t just as horny as Miss Ashcroft and her daughter.

I remained silent, focused on guiding the wand’s humming tip until it brushed the pucker of my anus.

Without even looking, Miss Ashcroft knew what I was up to. “I love it when my little girl comes from attention paid to her precious little bottom, Lily. I love it so much…”

I carefully pressed the toy into my rectum, and this time I didn’t try to stifle my rapturous moan.

Miss Ashcroft didn’t turn. She didn’t need to.

“It’s well known,” she said smoothly, now tending to her eyelashes with flawless precision, “that girls who deny themselves become brittle, breakable things, while lovely girls who indulge their cravings tend to blossom, like the precious flowers they are.”

The toy vibrated, and I circled it once, twice, moving around the taut rim of my nether hole. My body shook until the very bubbles trembled. A whimper escaped me; my mouth fell open.

“Would you like to blossom for me, Lily?”

I couldn’t speak.

“Would you like to lose yourself completely to me and become a lovely little girl who just comes… and comes… and comes…?”

I was nearly crying.

She turned slightly. A single emerald eye glittered. “Then don’t be shy. Blossom for me, little one.”

The toy slipped inside my bottom even further.

And I blossomed.

The wand buzzed deeper still, breaching me with a slow, greedy pulse that sent lightning through my spine until both hips lifted out of the water, bubbles sliding off my gleaming skin, my feet flexing like a ballet dancer caught in mid-spasm. Miss Ashcroft didn’t speak, just watched, the fingers of one hand gently rubbing her trimmed and flawlessly shaped mons, those eyelashes fanning at half-lid.

There I was, a girl just turned thirteen, stark naked in a tubful of steaming water and soap bubbles, reaming my anus with a vibrating sex toy. There I was, on display for a mysterious woman I barely knew. There I was, as exposed and vulnerable as a girl could be, going off like a firework in the most spectacular orgasm imaginable, shaking violently as hard jolts of pleasure ripped through me, clamping down hard enough to send a shriek tumbling from my lips.

Bringing myself to climax was normally a moment of complete privacy. Not this time, though. I wanted Miss Ashcroft to see, wanted to put on a sex show for this lovely woman while she caressed her slit with two impeccably manicured fingers. I managed to slide the vibe an inch deeper, and my asshole fluttered around it, taking my ecstasy to its peak.

I sobbed, calling her name without meaning to, then went limp, the very bubbles trembling in the aftermath of my release.

Miss Ashcroft’s smile widened just slightly, elegant, somehow terrifying in its approval. Turning slightly toward the slightly open door, she called, “Bunny? Come help me dry your new sister off.”

“Yaaay!” Within seconds, Bunny bounded in, arms loaded with a bundle of warm towels, smiling like she’d just won the lottery.

Between the two of them, I was pampered from head to toe. Miss Ashcroft and her daughter towel-dried me with careful, practiced hands, then Bunny let her towel fall as she dropped to her knees, her face inches from my pussy. I was dripping wet there, but not from the bath water.

“I knew it!” Bunny cried. “Your clitty is just as big as mine!” She gazed up at me with beseeching eyes. “Can I lick it while Mummy dries you off?”

Would Miss Ashcroft approve? I wasn’t sure. “Oh, you d-don’t have to—”

“Nonsense,” Miss Ashcroft smoothly interrupted. “This is hospitality. We want to make you happy. Open your arms, Lily. Let it happen.”

And I did.

Bunny dove in with glee, tongue extended before her lips even touched my pussy. With her first taste, she moaned as if she was the one getting licked. Her tiny hands were gripping and spreading my bottom open while she latched onto my clit like a nursing infant to her mommy’s nipple. She licked in tight, rapid flicks, then sucked, then flattened her tongue and hmmmmed, and that had me buzzing all over. I was trembling, still damp from the bath, a fire smoldering between my legs. Miss Ashcroft was calmly patting my hair with the towel like it was the most natural thing in the world to dry me while her daughter teased my clitoris.

I wondered if she was about to bring me off again when Miss Ashcroft said, “There. That’s done,” and Bunny immediately bounded to her feet, licking her lips.

Miss Ashcroft, studied me, then gave a satisfied nod. “Now that you’ve been thoroughly adored, let’s make you presentable. We’ve washed the outside world off, and it’s time to decide what kind of girl you’re going to be tonight.”

They led me to a vanity table that looked like something stolen from a vintage cabaret. There, they helped me dress. No, that’s not quite it. Instead, they helped to curate me. Every item Bunny selected from her overflowing closet seemed a size too small for me, intentionally so: pink-striped cotton panties that clung like they were painted on, a pleated little cheer skirt I would not be able to sit in with any sense of modesty, and a soft white cotton tank-tee that barely covered my breasts, and would reveal them completely if I raised both arms. My nipples were all but visible through the thin fabric – not surprising, really, considering how stiff they were. Anyone who looked my way would be sure to notice, unless they were peering up that tiny skirt instead.

Miss Ashcroft even adorned me with a deft touch of teenybopper-Lolita makeup. Bunny lent a hand, dusting shimmer across my cheeks while Miss Ashcroft selected the perfect lip gloss.

After a while, Miss Ashcroft sat back to appraise her work. “There.”

“Mmmm… it’s perfect,” Bunny said. “Oh, Lily, you look positively scrumptious!”

Reaching for a hand mirror with an ornate mother-of-pearl frame, Miss Ashcroft gave me a smile that seemed to warm my very soul. “Lily… meet Lily.” And she held the mirror before me.

I studied my reflection.

Definitely not like a young adult.

Not a child, either.

Something in-between. Something that ought to have been downright illegal…and very naughty.

I’d become one of them: a little lost girl who liked getting found and fondled. A novice member of the Lollipop Lane community. Home, at long last.

When Miss Ashcroft gently fastened a pink collar around my neck, I didn’t resist.

In fact, I giggled.

♡ ⚢ ♡ ⚢ ♡

Bunny was adjusting my skirt for the umpteenth time, tugging the hem down with exaggerated concern—though she was clearly just fondling my bottom and making my pussy more noticeable on purpose. Her eyes sparkled, and she was buzzing.

As for me, I couldn’t stop smiling. A couple of hours earlier, I was a scorned, bedraggled teen in the freezing rain, lost in dark thoughts, torn between returning home to parents who despised me or throwing myself into the path of a speeding car. Now I was bubbling over with glee, feeling more alive than I had in years as I continued to steal glances at my image in the wall mirror in Bunny’s room. We were waiting for Miss Ashcroft to summon us downstairs when her guests arrived.

“You’re so pretty now,” Bunny breathed, nose practically grazing my pussy. “Like… stupid pretty. How old are you?”

I could feel the heat of her breath even through the borrowed panties.

“I…I think I’m thirteen…” In my dazed condition, age was fast becoming a dizzy math problem I couldn’t quite work out.

“I’m twelve,” Bunny said, then fell silent, nibbling at her lower lip as if she had more to say. Her cheeks flushed ever so slightly as she finally came out with it, whispering, “Can I kiss you?”

My heart stopped. I nodded, just a little.

Then she kissed me.

Her mouth was hot and eager and playful, like she’d been waiting forever for that kiss and wanted the whole experience at once. Her tongue brushed mine and her arms twined around my waist, pulling me into her so my skirt rustled against her thighs.

And I kissed her back. Oh my stars, did I ever kiss her. I reached around to cup her cute bubble butt, allowing my hands to slip beneath her bunny parka’s hemline, thrilled all over again to be reminded that she was completely bare underneath. Our noses bumped in mid-kiss. “Boop!” I exclaimed, then bumped her the same way, only on purpose.

When we broke apart I was gasping, blushing, alive. I looked at her, she looked at me…and we squealed, holding hands and carrying on with the total lack of shame you’d expect from girls at a slumber party, with no mean grownups around to spoil the fun. We were uncontrollable.

Bunny was jumping up and down like a cartoon character. “OmiGOD you’re such a YUMMY KISSER!” she shrieked.

You’re a yummy kisser!” I fired back.

“I knew you’d be lots of fun!”

“I didn’t know I’d be—”

Bunny seized my face and kissed me again. I met her gleeful passion, clutching her waist, then her ass, then my middle finger was pressing against the star of her asshole and, yes, I loved it, oh yes, but she loved it even more—pushing back against my fingertip, using both hands to spread her butt open while her tongue was still in my mouth. And just like that, my finger entered her up to the third knuckle, buried in the slippery warmth of Bunny’s rectum.

I was insane with horny-happiness.

When we finally broke apart, she withdrew my middle finger from her bottom and took it into her mouth, sucking the tip like it was the sweetest treat imaginable.

I kissed Bunny yet again, briefly sucking her tongue, then whispered, “Is it always like this?”

Bunny grinned. “Always. The more you give in, the better it is, big sister. You’ll see for yourself soon.”

Miss Ashcroft’s voice echoed down the hall: “Dinner guests arrive in ten minutes, my darlings.”

We didn’t move, not at first. Then I said, “Guess we should…?”

“Hang on,” Bunny whispered. “Just one more kiss…!”

But instead of crushing her mouth to mine like I expected, she dropped to her knees and spun me around, pulling my undies down with a single deft motion. Bunny spread my bottom open with both hands, then her tongue went there, right there between my cheeks… Omigosh, what a delightfully filthy little sister I’d just acquired!

She was pressing her tongue against my most forbidden, never-even-seen-it-in-the-mirror place, and I just about went off in a burst of internal combustion. Her tongue dipped inside, circled my rosebud with a kind of joyful cruelty, then she pushed inward, humming like she was proud of herself for making me shiver. I let out a sound I didn’t recognize as human as she began to lick my anal cleft.

“I love your princess parts…all your yummy, pretty princess parts…” she sighed between licks.

I was whining like a horny puppy. Not from embarrassment, not even from pleasure, but from the unbearable rightness of it—that someone could say something so ridiculous and lewd, yet so tender, and still mean every word.

At that point, I still wasn’t sure where the night would go or what was in store for me.

But I already knew I wasn’t going back to normal, not ever.

On to Chapter Four!

The Evil That Men Do, Chapter 11

  • Posted on February 1, 2026 at 3:40 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.

Chapter Eight: Nettie unearths more hints that kidnap victims Heather and Gina were abducted by the same man who kidnapped and brutalized Nettie and her deceased sister over a decade ago — but that man was known to have died in prison.  Gina manages to escape captivity. But Heather can’t fit through the opening they dug, and must remain behind. Nettie gets a possible fix on the girls’ captor who, while out and about, gets a flat tire — then he discovers the spare is flat as well. 

Chapter Nine: The man who kidnapped Gina and Heather must get his flat spare tire fixed, not knowing the police have been alerted to him and are searching the area. Nettie, who is also hunting for the man, manages to find his abandoned car — then, some time later, makes an even more startling discovery: little Gina, alone and weeping by an abandoned road. In the meantime, the kidnapper manages to make his escape from the area by phoning a mysterious woman to pick him up.

Chapter Ten: Mallory meets with her mother, Sharon, for the first time in months, but fails to learn the cause of the recent distance between them. Nettie is still obsessed with Jacob Brentshaw, the man who kidnapped her and murdered her sister Annamarie so many years ago, sensing he is also behind the recent kidnapping as well… but can’t get past the fact that Brentshaw was killed in prison. Her actions saved the lives of Gina and Heather, but she remains determined to keep working the case on her own. For the first time, Nettie tells her lover Hannah about her own kidnapping and Annamarie’s death, events she has refused to discuss with anyone for years.

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

Would you do it with me
Heal the scars, and change the stars
Would you do it for me
Turn loose the heaven within
Nightwish, 2002

Terry Wilder admired Theresa Fosse’s denim-clad ass as it swayed enticingly across her living room, amused to find himself experiencing a twinge of loss as it disappeared around the corner.

“I made these special,” her voice drifted back to him from the kitchen. “My famous frozen strawberry-kiwi daiquiris. You’re gonna love this.”

Oh, Jesus. Terry made a face, which he smoothed into a bland, pleasant expression at the sound of the freezer door closing, followed by footsteps crossing the linoleum. Theresa appeared again, retracing her steps across the room, this time carrying two tall glasses filled with a pale pink concoction, a straw and a spoon protruding from each. Her ample breasts jiggled fetchingly under her tight Gwar tee-shirt. Somehow, though, Terry found himself somewhat less than fetched.

She handed him his drink, then settled in beside him, pressing her body close. Taking her spoon in hand, she scooped a little of the frozen mixture from the top of her own glass, extending it towards him. Obligingly, Terry opened his mouth, and she slipped the spoon in.

He captured the spoon between his teeth, stifling a grimace at the sticky sweetness of the over-syruped mix. He then took it from her, removed it from his mouth, and made a show of delicately licking both sides with exaggerated strokes of his tongue. It occurred to him that he was going through the motions, playing the game of seduction from long practice, that his heart just wasn’t in it. Anyway, it wasn’t like this was the first time he’d nailed this ditzy broad while her truck driver boyfriend was off on a long haul.

He cast his eyes about the trailer house living room. Pictures of Theresa’s kids adorned the walls, the three in the custody of her ex, and the two she’d had with her current shack job, both of whom she’d fobbed off on her mother for the evening. The remainder of the decor was a study in Early American Rummage Sale.

His own kids were at home. Dawn’s friend Allison and Naomi’s friend Chelsey were both sleeping over, with Halee riding herd on the whole flock. Terry had clarified that she was under no obligation to supervise the sleepover if she didn’t want the responsibility, but Halee had assured him that she’d be just fine.

“Have fun,” she’d told him, knowing precisely where he was going and why, “and try not to knock her up, huh? That guy she’s living with has muscles for brains. You really need to rethink your love life, Dad.”

Sitting here now, Theresa’s perfume overpowering his olfactory senses, her kids staring back at him from the walls, and the intolerable babble from her perpetually-running TV straining the final limits of his endurance, he reflected yet again that Halee’s wisdom greatly exceeded her years. Where did she get that from? Surely not from me, if one is to judge by my present surroundings.

The busty brunette was now shoveling the frozen beverage into her mouth with enthusiasm. Steeling himself, Terry took a tiny sip of his own, already wondering how much he could leave undrunk without Theresa taking offense.

“I guess you’ve heard that Rachael dumped Jay again,” she said, catching Terry off guard.

“I’m sorry—who?”

“You know—Jay Steiders and Rachael Coltrane. They were in your movie, weren’t they?”

Light dawned. “Oh, that Jay and Rachael. Yeah, they were male and female lead in Snakeskin Overshoes. Jay also appeared in the film adaptation of my first best-seller. The Angira Conspiracy, that was. My first movie, his first leading role. A good day for both of us, I’d say.”

He smiled at the memory. “Rachael and Jay were married when we filmed Snakeskin Overshoes; really, the two of them sort of came as a package deal at that point in time. And I suppose I’m vaguely aware that there’s been some turmoil in the ensuing years. But I’m not in contact with either of them, and I’ve no idea the particulars of their current relationship status.”

Theresa was shaking her head. “I don’t see how you could have missed it. Everybody’s talking about it.”

Terry bit his tongue, refraining with difficulty from pointing out that it might be very easy to miss if she’d turn off the goddamn celebrity gossip channels for five minutes at a stretch.

“It’s awful what she keeps doing to him,” Theresa went on. “Sleeping with her director, trying to keep the kids away—it makes me sick.”

Terry smiled a rueful smile. He instructed himself firmly that he’d do better to remain silent, then spoke anyway. “Forgive me, Theresa, but have you considered that you most likely have an incomplete picture of the situation? I spent years rubbing shoulders with people of their status, and the correlation between reality and what gets printed in People Magazine was almost always tenuous at best.”

Theresa blinked a few times, clearly struggling to parse out the sentence he’d just uttered. “Well—she sure doesn’t have much to say about it. If it wasn’t true, wouldn’t she be defending herself?”

Terry shrugged. “I didn’t say it wasn’t true. But consider people you and I both know—Jared and Stacy Logan, for instance. A tumultuous marriage, to put it mildly, and each has plenty to say about the other. Neither of them are entirely wrong. Reality is somewhere in the middle.”

“Yeah, I guess, but—”

“I was on or around the set with Jay and Rachael for months, and developed a rapport. I liked them both personally, and respected them professionally. Neither of them, in my judgement, is a bad person. Relationships can get complicated, as I suspect you know quite well. The life of a celebrity is no less messy than yours or mine. On a side note, I knew Rachael as a fairly private person. That she avoids making the messier details of her personal life public surprises me not at all. It doesn’t mean there isn’t another side to the story.”

Theresa was polishing off the last of her daiquiri, and Terry was surprised to note that he had consumed about three-quarters of his own. The aftertaste remained horrid, but he supposed that some conversations were best endured with a bit of a buzz to take the edge off.

Setting down her empty glass, she crossed her arms and looked at him with narrowed eyes. “Are you feeling all right, Terry? You’re being kind of weird.”

Seeing that what was left of his drink had melted to slushy liquid, Terry tossed the rest of it back and stood. “You know what, Theresa? I’m really not feeling all right. Sorry. Maybe we should take a rain check. Call you?”

Theresa’s mouth tightened, but her tone remained even. “Yeah, sure—call me.”

Terry closed her front door behind him with an enormous sigh of relief.

***

Nettie’s breath was coming in shuddering gasps, her head thrown back; eyes closed. Hannah knelt on the floor of the shower stall, tongue buried between her lover’s sweet lips and flickering furiously. Steaming water cascaded directly on her flaming red hair, pouring in curtains down her face and back. She didn’t seem to notice, or care.

Nettie’s knees almost buckled as a particularly intense wave of pleasure coursed through her body. Her arms shot out, hands pressing against the wall for support. “Oh!” she cried out. “Oh God—OH!”

Then she was crying out over and over, waves crashing on top of waves as her body raced towards orgasm, finally careening over the edge. Her hands dropped from the wall to Hannah’s drenched mane of hair as her climax subsided. “Okay,” she panted. “I’m good.”

Hannah rose to unsteady feet, turned off the water with a savage twist of her wrist, and grabbed Nettie’s hand. “My turn! Come on.” The two lovers had discovered early on that Nettie was too tall to easily go down on Hannah from a kneeling position.

Nettie followed as nimbly as she could, her legs still shaky from that thunderous climax. The bathroom with the shower stall was directly adjacent to Nettie’s dad’s old pool room. That’s as far as they got. Hannah sprawled on the love seat, legs spread wide, water from her dripping hair and body instantly soaking into the cushions.

Nettie dropped to her knees on the carpet, licking her lips. Fresh from the shower, her lover’s cunt looked positively scrumptious, right down to the tiny beads of water glistening in her pubes. She could have spent another moment or two marveling at its beauty, but an impatient Hannah grabbed the back of Nettie’s head, pulling her close.

Resisting for a moment, Nettie flicked her eyes upward, accompanied by a teasing grin. “A little overexcited, are we?”

“I fingered myself most of the way there while I was eating you. Come on, bee-otch!”

Nettie tested Hannah’s entrance with a fingertip, finding it slick and receptive, then slid two fingers all the way inside, grinding the redhead’s clit with her palm. Hannah let out a rapturous cry, lifting her hips up from the cushions. She was bucking furiously against Nettie’s hand, her breath choppy. Hannah hadn’t been kidding; she was clearly only moments removed from release. Nettie dove in, seeking and finding her lover’s treasure, taking up a rapid flicking motion with the tip of her tongue.

That was all it took. Hannah was wailing like a banshee, her pussy muscles contracting, hips thrashing so furiously it was all Nettie could do to keep her tongue in place. Finally Hannah collapsed into the cushions, her body spent.

Nettie pushed herself from the floor and nestled in beside her lover, holding Hannah close. She’d just settled in when the muffled sound of her ringing cellphone came from the bathroom. She was tempted to ignore the damn thing, but thought better of it.

She lifted her head. “Fuck. Sorry, Hannah, but with everything that’s going on—”

“Sweetie, I’m a doctor,” Hannah replied, patting Nettie’s thigh. “I check my phone when it rings, period. Handle your business.”

Nettie trotted naked across the carpeted floor, hair still dripping. She didn’t quite make it. She’d just shaken the phone out of the front pocket of her jeans when it ceased to ring. “Dammit,” she muttered, turning the device over in her hands. A missed call from Terry.

Returning to the pool room at a more sedate pace, she traversed the carpet once more, plopping down next to Hannah on the love seat. “Just missed it,” she said. “It’s Terry. Probably nothing important, but I’ll drop him a quick call and see what he wants.”

Terry picked up instantly. “Hey, Nettie. Catch you in the middle of something?” His loud, clear voice was audible to Hannah as well. The two women shared a look, then burst out laughing.

“Oh,” said Terry, with sudden comprehension. “Hello, Hannah. Sorry, it’s nothing important. I’ll let you get back to—”

“Oh, no worries,” said Nettie, putting the phone on speaker while Hannah continued to snicker. “We just finished our, um—”

“Project,” Hannah finished for her. The two of them dissolved into laughter again.

“Excellent,” said Terry, his voice deadpan. “One hopes you both took tremendous pleasure in satisfactory completion.”

Hannah cracked up again. “Terry,” she said, leaning close to Nettie’s phone. “Can I keep you on call for when I need a good one-liner?”

“Sorry, my dear,” said Terry. “But word would get out, and there are only so many of me. Can’t have everybody wanting one.”

Nettie drew in what she hoped was a sobering breath. “What’s up, Terry?”

“As I said, nothing much. I was just going to ask if you wanted to hang out; have a drink or something. But if you and Hannah are pursuing explosively enjoyable projects to their climactic conclusion, I can find other ways to amuse myself.”

Hannah broke into laughter again, but this time Nettie didn’t join in. Terry was a gregarious, social creature by nature, but this out-of-the-blue invitation was hardly his style.

She realized Hannah was still laughing, and looked at her askance. “It wasn’t that funny.”

Hannah giggled. “It is when I’ve got a couple of drinks in me.”

Nettie shook her head. “That’s it—no more sauce for you.” Then something else occurred to her. “Hey,” she said into the phone, “I thought you were, um, working on a ‘project’ of your own with Theresa Fosse tonight.”

Terry snorted. “Might one ask where you happened to come by that piece of information?” he inquired, amusement in his voice.

“Ummm—shit. Halee told me. Don’t be pissed at her, okay?”

“Oh, I’m not. It’s not news to me that she thinks I’m nuts to turn my hand—and other assorted body parts—to Theresa’s urgent need for project completion. I—”

Hannah was doubled over with laughter. “Terry—Jesus, Terry! Knock it off. I’m getting a stomach ache!”

“As a doctor, my dear, you know perfectly well that the problem therein is simple muscle tension, the relaxation of which is best accomplished by the stimulation of pelvic anatomy, yet another project for Nettie to—”

As Hannah burst into yet another fit of laughter, Nettie cut him off, just barely holding back her own mirth. “Okay, smart-ass, give it a rest. You were saying?”

“Well, not to put too fine a point on it, I spent fifteen minutes or so sipping double-syruped daiquiris while listening to inane babble, and decided that Halee’s logic was unassailable.” Nettie’s eyebrows were in her hairline now. Terry, walking away from sex? Hannah, seeing her expression, had stopped laughing.

“Terry,” Nettie ventured, “are you all right?”

“Oh, perfectly fine,” he said in an airy voice. “I was just thinking that since I’m clearly not getting any projects done this evening, and the girls would probably be just as happy if the Big Bad Fun-Killing Dad Monster steered clear of their sleepover for awhile, I might join up with a friend for a drink and a conversation about something other than who celebrities spend their sack time with. But if you’re busy, it’s not a problem.”

Nettie wasn’t buying it. “Where are you, if you’re not at home?”

“Walking the bike trails. Lovely evening for it.”

Nettie looked to Hannah, an eyebrow lifted. Hannah, understanding at once, nodded vigorously.

“Terry,” she said, “we’re at my place. Why don’t you stop over for a drink? Hannah and I are done with our—you know—our project—”

“Well, at least taking a break from it,” Hannah cut in, merriment in her voice. “But seriously, Terry, come hang out with us for a while. It’ll be fun.”

“If you’re sure,” said Terry. “I’ll be there in ten.” He cut the connection.

Nettie looked to her lover. “Hannah, I’m sorry, but—”

“It’s okay. I don’t even know him that well, and I can tell that something’s not right. Maybe we’d better throw some clothes on before he gets here, what do you say?”

***

“But why can’t I watch it with them?” Maya Wilder wasn’t quite in tears, but close. There was a stubborn set to her jaw.

“Because it’s already past your bedtime,” Halee replied, carefully keeping her voice level, “and because it’ll give you nightmares, after which you will end up in my bed, and steal all the blankets. C’mon, kid. I let you stay up later than I should have as it is.”

“But I’m not tired, Halee!”

“Tell you what,” said Halee. “You can look at your storybooks for a little while. I’ll come in fifteen minutes to tuck you in. Deal?”

“But I want to—”

“Maya. You are not watching The Monster Squad. Get over it, all right? Are you walking to your room, or do I have to carry you?”

Fine!” Angry tears dripped down the six-year-old’s cheeks. “You’re a bad sister, Halee. I want you to know that!” Parting shot delivered, Maya turned her back on Halee and stomped down the hall.

Halee turned her head towards the girls still in the living room. Naomi and Chelsey, both age eleven, had their eyes fixed to the wall-mounted TV, remote in Naomi’s outstretched hand. Eight-year-olds Dawn and Allison were staring at Halee, Dawn with an amused expression, Allison with eyebrows raised.

“When I go in to check on her, bet you a dollar she’s passed out,” said Halee as she took the single step up from the dining nook to the living room. “Then in the morning, she can tell me how tired she wasn’t.”

Naomi turned to her older sister, a frown on her lips. “I found it on Amazon. It’s seven bucks to buy, three to rent. Why don’t we call Dad and ask if we—”

Very bad plan,” Halee countered with a smirk.

“But we’ve watched it before,” said Naomi. “Maybe we rented it?”

“I’ve never even heard of it,” Chelsey replied.

“Oh, you’ll love it,” said Naomi. “It was one of Dad’s favorites when he was a kid. It’s old, but it’s way cool. Or I guess you would love it, if we could watch it. Looks like we can’t.”

“I rather suspect we can,” said Halee. She was opening the doors of a large cabinet set against a side wall. She traced her finger along the spines of the DVD cases lined up inside. “Here it is,” she said, turning to face the others and holding it aloft.

“Oh, that’s right, we didn’t stream it! We have it on Blu-Ray.” Naomi slapped herself on the forehead.

“Jeez, does anyone even still have a player for those things?” Chelsey wanted to know.

“We do,” said Halee, crossing the room. “Naomi, would you be so kind as to get the popcorn going? I’ll get this set up.”

***

“What’ll you have, Terry?” Nettie stood before an open cupboard, a variety of whiskey bottles on display.

“Whatever you’re drinking is fine.”

“Actually,” Nettie said softly, “I already had one a little while ago. I think I’ll stop there tonight.”

Terry’s eyebrows shot up. “Okay, then. Whatever bourbon you happen to have will do nicely.”

Nettie selected the best bottle in her cupboard, which she knew perfectly well was not on par with whatever Terry’s best bottle was. Still, it was decent stuff. She poured it into the waiting glass of ice, then re-stoppered the bottle.

Terry sipped, then smiled. “Thank you, Nettie.”

Hannah turned from the island, where she’d been mixing a margarita. She raised it in his direction. “Cheers, Terry.” She sipped, then smacked her lips. “Ah. Perfect.” Nettie beckoned them toward the living room. She and Hannah settled into the love seat, Terry taking one of the recliners.

Terry raised his glass. “I must say, the two of you make a beautiful couple. Here’s to a happy future together, and I mean that.”

“Thank you Terry,” said Hannah, raising her glass and drinking with him.

Nettie, on the other hand, was raising mental eyebrows. Such maudlin declarations weren’t in character for Terry Wilder at all. She cast around in her mind for something to say to lighten the mood. “Flattery gets you zero threesomes, dude.” Hannah laughed so hard she almost spilled her drink.

Terry was grinning. “Well,” he said, “it was worth a try.” At least that statement was more like the old Terry, but the tone was all wrong. It sounded pro forma, like something he was saying because he was expected to.

Nettie suddenly decided she was in no mood for this. “Terry, are you okay? You’re acting weird as fuck.”

That grin remained frozen on his lips. “Weird as fuck is my default. Ask my kids; they’ll tell you.” He took another sip of whiskey.

The mirth had faded from Hannah’s face. “Terry… Antoinette’s worried about you. Maybe she has good reason and maybe she doesn’t, but if the two of you want to talk, I can make myself scarce.”

His smile disappearing, Terry pursed his lips. “No need. I am, perhaps, not at my best, but I don’t feel the need to burden anyone with the details. They’ll work themselves out; things always do.”

Nettie shook her head. “You shouldn’t hold it in, Terry. You’re my best friend. I’m here for you.”

Terry burst out laughing. It took him a moment to recover his voice. “Sorry, Nettie. But that’s one hell of a statement, coming from you.”

Nettie’s gaze didn’t waver. “Believe me, I know that. I’m just now realizing the price I’ve paid by keeping things bottled up.” She hesitated, then added, “I told Hannah about Annamarie a couple of hours ago.”

Terry’s face went very still. He opened his mouth, closed it again. Finally, he spoke. “That’s a name you’ve never once uttered in my presence, not until now.”

“But you know about her.”

“Of course.”

“I never wanted to talk about what happened to us—to her,” said Nettie, staring at the carpet. “If I could’ve talked about her and not the rest of it, I would have, but it—it just never worked out that way.” She fumbled for Hannah’s hand and pulled it into her lap, holding on for dear life.

“That caused a lot of problems for you and me, Terry,” Nettie pressed on. “And with other people before you. I decided I had to break the cycle, you know? And I have to thank you. You always encouraged me to open up without pushing me too hard. And you’ve been my friend, no matter how bitchy I got when I was down. When I decided to tell Hannah, I was thinking of things you’ve said to me over the past year or so. I don’t think I could have got there with… without you.” There were tears in her voice and her eyes, but Nettie held her head high.

“Then I’m proud to have contributed in some small way,” said Terry. “Well done, Nettie—sincerely. I’d given up hoping that this would come to pass.”

Nettie smiled. A single tear trickled down her cheek. “Thanks, Terry. Now let’s talk about you.”

Terry took another sip of his whiskey. “In honor of your truly impressive breakthrough this evening, I’ll do so—but there really isn’t much to tell. It’s only that I find myself at something of a crossroads. I have no professional life to speak of, the only consolation being that I don’t need the money. I seem incapable of writing anything that seems worthwhile to me. My romantic life is a ridiculous hashwork of one-nighters, friends with perks, and women who have no business sleeping with me.

“There are, of course, my girls, and I do like to think I’m handling my job as a parent with some level of competence. But the rest of it? Sitting in Theresa’s living room this evening, sipping the most redneck of beverages and listening to her prattle on about things which she knows less than nothing of, I came to realize precisely how dissatisfying it all is.”

Terry tilted his head back, seemingly speaking to the ceiling. “All that said—I’m fine, Nettie. First-world problems, all of them, and I’m far better off than most. What I realized tonight is that I can’t continue to playact at everything except being a parent. In short, I need to get a life.”

Hannah raised her drink to him. “Good for you, Terry. Sounds like both of you are making strides today.”

Terry lifted his whiskey in return, then polished off the rest of the glass. “Since we’re all wearing our hearts on our butt cheeks—are you okay, Nettie? Talking about your sister has to have been a very large step for you, especially in light of your escapades earlier this week. I—”

“Whoa.” Nettie was sitting bolt upright. “What the hell do you know about earlier this week?”

Terry shrugged. “Only that you traveled to Virginia or thereabouts, and that you were involved in the rescue of two preteen sisters who’d been kidnapped. I deduced—oh, to hell with it. I was contacted by Special Agent Perky Tits earlier today. She gave me the scantiest of details, but asked me to check in on you, which is one reason I thought we might meet up tonight after my tryst with Theresa Fosse fell through.”

Hannah was laughing again. “Special Agent Perky Tits?!”

Terry chuckled. “It’s how I affectionately refer to DEA agent Bridgett Ramscone. In any event, she’s concerned about your mental well-being, Nettie. As am I. I also admit to some curiosity about what took place up there.”

Nettie chewed on the inside of her cheek, then got to her feet and made her way towards the kitchen. “I think I’ll have another drink after all. Do not let me pour a third. You want another one, Terry?”

***

“Kick him in the nards!” screamed the kid on the television screen.

“He doesn’t have nards!” the chubby boy facing off against the werewolf howled back.

“Do it, do it!”

Racing forward, the fat kid gave his foot a mighty swing, connecting solidly with the hirsute beast’s nether regions. All the fight went out of the werewolf as it doubled over in pain.

A look of wonder came over the big kid’s face. “Wolfman’s got nards.

Dawn and Allison, side-by-side on beanbags in the middle of the living room floor, howled with laughter. Chelsey, snuggled up under a blanket on the couch with Naomi, also erupted in a fit of giggles. Naomi, who had seen the movie before, was grinning. That grin became a smirk as a hand beneath the blanket slid up her thigh. Their clandestine fooling around had been going on for almost ten minutes, and both girls faces were flushed. The younger girls on the beanbags, backs to the couch, were completely oblivious.

Halee, curled up in her dad’s recliner with her laptop, was not. Having seen the movie several times before, she’d thought to finish up a bit of code she was working on for her Python course, but found herself increasingly distracted by the action taking place on the couch. She was all too aware of her panties dampening, erect nipples tenting her t-shirt. Something would have to be done about this before she’d be able to sleep, something she’d prefer not to take care of on her own.

Picking up her phone, she shot off a text to Bethany.

***

Terry Wilder was pulling thoughtfully on his lower lip. Hannah stared at her lover with wide-eyed wonder as Nettie, pacing the living room and nursing a glass of bourbon, related the details of her sojourn north the previous Tuesday.

“That’s really pretty much it,” she was saying. “We got them both out, but the perp—whoever he was—managed to skip right out from under us.”

“How are those girls doing?” Hannah’s voice was soft, almost a whisper.

“I haven’t gotten any follow-up. Last I heard they were both being taken to Children’s, but I think that’s more because they didn’t want to be separated than anything else. Gina’s fine physically, or she will be once she gets some nutrition in her. Heather’s mostly okay, but her hands are a mess. She was digging in soil that’d been compacted by the weight of the shed, using her fingers and chunks of concrete. I wouldn’t be surprised if she needs surgery.”

“She got her sister out,” said Terry. “Gutsy kid. Do you think Gina would have made it far enough to get help?”

“I doubt it,” said Nettie, polishing off the last of her bourbon and leaning against the wall. “The ironic thing is, she wasn’t that far from the road. Following that abandoned highway was the right choice with the information she had, but it was actually the worst thing she could have done. She still had about six miles to travel over very rough ground, and she could barely walk when I got to her.”

“It was a good try, though,” said Terry, “and it did work out.”

“Oh, for sure.”

“They can probably fix the fingers, and whatever else,” said Hannah. “Those emotional scars won’t go away anytime soon, though.”

Nettie tossed back the last of her bourbon. “No. They don’t.” Crossing the room to the love seat, she plopped down beside Hannah. The redhead put an arm around her.

“What seems remarkable to me,” said Terry, “is that the bad guy managed to get away so cleanly.” He held up his phone. “I’m looking at a map of the immediate surrounding area. There’s nothing out there at all. Mater’s garage is a solid fifteen miles from Virginia, which appears to be the nearest place to catch a bus or anything like that. I’d assume the FBI was keeping an eye on the bus station, as well.”

“Yeah, they were,” said Nettie. “Hopefully they still are, in case he’s hunkered down somewhere in the area. But I’ve been wondering the same thing; just how the hell he got away on foot. The answer is that he didn’t.”

Hannah bit her lip. “You’re thinking he had help?”

Nettie shrugged. “He could have hitchhiked, but I dunno. Not very many people pick up hikers anymore. Too much risk. Besides, would he really be standing on the shoulder with his thumb out when he knew he was being hunted? I think more likely there’s an accomplice involved.”

Terry was shaking his head. “That being the case, why would he have been carrying his spare tire to the shop? Why not phone for help?”

“Because the cell service out there sucks. I had no bars at all where I found his car. I had one where I found Gina, but it wouldn’t put a call through. I had to climb a fucking tree, remember? There was actually pretty decent service at the old farmstead where we found Heather; I was able to call Bridgett from there.”

Nettie looked down at the glass in her hand, seeming to notice for the first time that it was empty. She set it down. “He probably could have called someone once he got to the highway, but maybe he didn’t want to. Maybe he was close enough to the shop he didn’t feel like it was worth the risk of exposing both of them. I don’t know—I’m just guessing here. Maybe there isn’t an accomplice at all.”

“But you think there is,” said Hannah, taking a sip of her margarita.

Nettie nodded. “Either that, or he’s still in the area. He could have a hidey-hole somewhere within walking distance.”

“Which seems equally likely,” said Terry. “So tell me why you’re leaning towards the accomplice theory.”

Nettie stared down at her hands. “Because I’m pretty sure there was an accomplice when Anna and I were kidnapped.”

On to Chapter Twelve!