by BlueJean
Author’s Note
Ever feel like you’ve revealed too much about what goes on inside your head?
The second piece of taboo erotica I ever wrote was a charming story called Little Girl Panties. I began posting it on Lesbian Lolita as I was writing it, back in the days when I was churning out one or two chapters a week. Not much quality control back then, but no one seemed to be complaining.
At some point, I updated the story, but by then I was more interested in the plot-driven fantasy of The Beekeeper’s Daughters and Selkie Days.
When JetBoy expressed an interest in publishing it on Juicy Secrets, I was reluctant. The story has always left me feeling a little more exposed than I’d like. Unlike my other offerings, this one isn’t pretending to be anything other than what it is – porn. No hiding behind lofty tales of witches, selkies and dryads for this grubby little wankfest.
In the end, I agreed to let it out of the box again, on the condition that it underwent another update. That revision turned into a full rewrite, one I worked on sporadically while I was writing The Beekeeper’s Lament and co-writing The Loves and Labours of Doris Sloane. This new version, retitled Down the Rabbit Hole, starts out the same as the original, but soon veers off into brand new territory, not that it’s ever had much in the way of plot, you understand.
I think some of you are going to love this new version. Others might find it a tad troubling. Down the Rabbit Hole doesn’t much concern itself with notions of love or affection. It’s devious; hungry. It takes what it wants without a care for the consequences. It doesn’t make excuses, and doesn’t care if you approve or not.
Down the Rabbit Hole is about how bad decisions can escalate and spiral out of control. It’s about how easily we can put our conscience to one side. Okay, it’s really about grown women who have sex with little girls, but some of those awkward questions do at least pop their heads up from time to time.
Hand-wringer that I am, I’ve never been entirely sure how I feel about this story. I’ve become quite fond of the characters over the years, but sometimes the story has weighed on me like a ball and chain. I’ll sum it up like this: I gave birth to a monstrous thing. Now I’m leaving it on the doorstep of Juicy Secrets Orphanage. Good riddance. Just be careful – the little fucker bites.
Oh, one other thing. Just to eliminate any potential trepidation amongst those of you who are familiar with the original – Frankie does not die in this version. Long live Frankie.
BlueJean
Editor’s Note
As my friend and editing victim BlueJean says above, this story first made its appearance at the much-missed Lesbian Lolita site, where I encountered it – my introduction to this man’s fine erotic work. It was hot stuff indeed, though I also appreciated how the story subtly dealt with Sarah’s mixed feelings about the gradual changes in her family dynamic. My only real quibble with the story was the ending, in which Sarah’s lover Frankie is hit by a car and killed. Unlike most Hollywood executives, I do believe that some fictional works call for a tragic ending, but this wasn’t one of them.
Still, a satisfying story, with some smoking hot sex scenes – what’s not to like? But when Mr. Jean kicked off his next work, “The Beekeeper’s Daughters,” his writing was on a whole new level, erotica that succeeded as fantasy fiction in its own right. I was jealous that Lesbian Lolita had been first to get it, but we posted all their best stuff at Juicy Secrets anyhow (after a courteous waiting period), so we’d eventually have it too.
What happened, of course, was that Lesbian Lolita shut down, lost (like so many other sites) with the lengthy shuttering of asstr.org.
I can’t recall who contacted the other first, but BlueJean needed a new home for his writing, and I wanted the entirety of “Beekeeper,” so we were soon in touch. The two of us seemed to drift naturally into an author/editor relationship, churning out five short novels in as many years, this being the last.
Mind you, he wasn’t especially eager to see this particular story made public, but after I asked for the sixth time or thereabouts, he consented, intending to simply hand the story over to me and walk away. I would have carte blanche to rewrite it as I saw fit.
But by that point in our relationship, I knew BlueJean well enough (for someone I’d never met face to face) to suspect that he would NOT be able to let go of this story, and would find himself putting in just as much effort as he had with the others. Which was exactly how I wanted it… and precisely how it turned out. We ended up reworking this bad boy from top to bottom.
The result: Down the Rabbit Hole is a whole new creature, so improved it’s scary. Tremble before its might, ye pitiful mortals!
Enormous thanks, BlueJean, for giving me the opportunity to work with you one more once. You’ll be missed, mate.
JetBoy
1
I have to wonder when the hole we dug became too deep for us to climb out. Hard to say, really. To gain any kind of perspective, you have to step back, I think. And I was having much too much fun to step back.
I guess it doesn’t make much difference anyway – once I’d started down that rabbit hole, there was no chance I was ever coming back up. And I gleefully dragged everyone down with me – Frankie (not that she ever needed much persuading), my sister Judy, the children, even the fucking schoolteacher.
The children… oh, the things we’ve done with them. Appalling. But so very exquisite. I’m sure it’ll all come back to bite us on the bum, sooner or later. We reap what we sow, right?
I’m a very naughty mummy, you see. I sold my soul for a taste of wicked debauchery. But that’s okay. I’m not going to try and justify what I’ve done or start making excuses – I wasn’t hurting anyone! It was completely consensual! We all liked it! We’re all happy and healthy! Blah, blah, blah.
That isn’t why I’m telling you our story. Honestly, I don’t care if you approve or not. I’ve made my peace with it. I know it’s wrong, but the thing is, I like the wrongness. If the things I’ve indulged in were seen as acceptable by society, it wouldn’t have been nearly as thrilling. Truth be told, I’ve always been a bad girl. My ex-husband used to tell me there was ‘something of the night’ about me. Maybe that’s true of most of us to some extent. We all have a darker self hidden away.
But I let my dark undercurrent bubble to the surface. Somewhere along the way I discovered that simply going with the flow is much easier than questioning the consequences of everything you do. Sure, it’s morally redundant, maybe even cowardly, but there’s a unique kind of liberation that comes with simply not giving a fuck.
So. How did it all start? Hmm…
A pair of little girl’s panties, that’s how.
Now listen.
2
Friday and Saturday nights were all about sex in our house. My eight-year-old daughter Kerry – the only good thing to come out of a loveless and short-lived marriage – went to stay with her father on weekends. That meant me and my partner Frankie had the house to ourselves. Don’t get me wrong, sex during the week was nice enough, but it was confined to our bedroom, and an effort was made to keep it low volume for Kerry’s sake. The weekends, though – that was our time to migrate into the lounge, strip naked, stick some lesbian porn on the TV and go completely wild.
Frankie is – and I mean this in the nicest possible way – a dirty bitch. Her moral laxity when it comes to anything sex-related is breathtaking to behold. She’s a self-confessed sexual deviant and proud of it.
She looks the part, too – dark auburn hair shaved at the temples, eyes the colour of dusky emeralds. Much of her olive skin is adorned with tattoos, and her ears and nose gleam with studs and rings. If she looks like the kind of girl who’d eat you alive, it’s because she is.
In many ways, I’m the yin to her yang: my hair is dark blonde, my eyes a flinty grey. My breasts and hips are larger and fuller than Frankie’s, and though I do have a couple of tattoos in discreet locations, my skin is otherwise pale and unadorned.
Frankie and I are both very beautiful. Egotistical but true – and the only reason I tell you is because I want you to be able to picture us very clearly when we’re indulging in all the exquisite, forbidden things you’ll soon be reading about. I don’t mean to brag, but the fact is, we could score with just about anyone we wanted, women or men. But our interests ended up taking a more, shall we say, unusual turn.
On this particular Friday night, Frankie was hooking her laptop up to the TV in the lounge. I always let her choose the porn – she usually comes up with something interesting, more often thoroughly filthy.
While she prepared the evening’s entertainment, I poured us each a tall glass of red wine. “What’re we watching?” I asked, already tingling in anticipation.
“A nice compilation of girls rimming each other,” Frankie replied sagely. “You should get down on your hands and knees while you watch it. In fact, I insist on it.”
This would probably be a good time to tell you that the two of us were clad in nothing but sheer, thigh-length stockings. Mine were a dark crimson, stark against the paleness of my legs. Frankie’s were black. Sometimes we also wore lacy knickers, mostly for how much we liked the way they looked stretched around our knees and ankles, or pulled to one side. We’ve tried wearing our sexiest heels a few times during these little soirées, like the girls in the videos, but aside from being wholly impractical, Frankie once nearly had my eye out with one of her stilettos. So in the spirit of health and safety, we decided to stop wearing them. So yeah, that night it was just the stockings.
“Why don’t you get down on your hands and knees?” I said with a smirk.
Frankie peered back at me in mock disapproval, hands hooked on her slender hips. “‘Cause I had the idea first. Now get down there. Don’t make me tell you again.”
After treating her to a sassy look, I knelt down on our nice Afghan rug. That rug’s taken some abuse over the years. Good job it cleans up nicely.
While the first porn scene began to unfold, Frankie crept around me like a predator deciding how best to dispatch its prey. Finally she squatted at my rear and growled, “Bend over.”
I fell forward onto the balls of my hands. Frankie planted a kiss on each bare buttock, then trailed the tip of her tongue up and down my pussy. I could feel her unsheath my clit, then her mouth was there too, sucking at the sensitive nub; lightly grazing it with her teeth.
Peering back at her, I demanded, “Tongue-fuck me.”
She speared her way into my cunt, her thumb brushing my engorged clit as she went about her dirty business. I pushed back against her oral assault, and Frankie’s response was to spread my bum cheeks apart to get at my arsehole, her tongue teasing the tight anal ring.
“Fuck yes,” I muttered, letting my front half sink down onto the rug so I could raise my rump even higher, giving Frankie unfettered access.
“Do you like my tongue in your arse, baby?” my girlfriend enquired.
“You know I do. Less chit-chat, more rimming.”
“I’ll do you one better. Spread those cheeks nice and wide for me, and I’ll finger your cunt at the same time.”
Supporting my weight with one hand, I used the other to spread myself open. Frankie slipped two of her fingers into my dripping pussy and began to work them in and out while she bathed my arsehole with her tongue.
“Eat it, bitch,” I hissed. “Put some effort into it.”
I received a sharp slap on the bum for my insolence.
Yeah, we got mean sometimes. Called each other names, got a little rough. But we kept it contained. It never spilled over into the other parts of our lives. I think girls are good at drawing lines like that. Post-coital remorse is mostly a male thing.
Frankie pulled her fingers from my cunt, reaching over to offer them to me. “Taste yourself.”
I sucked the wet digits clean. Frankie knew I loved the taste of my own pussy. When I masturbated, my fingers would usually end up in my mouth – if not mine, then Frankie’s. “Mmm, yummy,” I told her, then gave my voice an edge. “Now stick them back inside so I can come.”
While Frankie worked me from behind with fingers and tongue, I watched like-minded women doing much the same thing on the TV.
When I first met Frankie, one thing soon became abundantly clear: she and porn come as a package deal. She’s a connoisseur; laptops and thumb drives full of the stuff. That first year of dating was an abject lesson in how to carefully cultivate a porn addiction in your lover. It started with the softcore stuff, then gradually got kinkier and kinkier.
It wasn’t long before I was bucking hard against my girlfriend’s face as a knee-trembler of an orgasm shuddered through me. “Oh, God…” I whimpered into the rug.
After I’d regained some degree of functionality, Frankie rolled me onto my back, then straddled my face. “Eat me,” she demanded, grinding her pussy against my mouth.
While I feasted on her musky cunt, she grabbed fistfuls of my hair and rode me like the bitch I am. Copious quantities of hot, creamy goo oozed from her cunt, down onto my mouth and chin. Frankie’s always been a messy girl, and isn’t a bit ashamed of it.
Having used my face to her satisfaction, she finally pressed her pulsating sex to my lips and let her orgasm come freely. I held my breath and let her ride it out. I knew I wasn’t going anywhere until she was done.
She peered down at me and smiled sweetly. “Aww, did we make a nasty mess on the pretty lady’s face?”
I licked my lips and flashed my eyes at her.
“You look so sexy covered in my come,” Frankie told me sincerely.
“Kiss me,” I said, so she slid down and pressed her body against mine. We kissed deeply, sharing her creamy essence.
Then Frankie gave me one of her looks, the kind that says, Let’s do something really dirty. Let’s escalate.
“What?” I asked cautiously.
“You have an open mind, right?” she ventured.
“I’d like to think so.”
“I mean really open.”
“Uh… I’m not doing scat, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”
Frankie laughed at that. “Nothing so gross. I have something else for us to watch but, well, it’s not exactly legal.”
I had to admit, she had me a little intrigued. “O-kay. I’m game, I guess. As long as we don’t get into trouble, and it’s not horrible or anything.”
She gave me a sly little smile, then began fiddling with her laptop. A short while later a video image suddenly bloomed into life.
I put a hand to my mouth in shock. “What the fuck!?”
I watched as a young girl sat half naked on the floor, legs spread wide, her smooth slit on full display. She couldn’t have been any older than ten.
“Oh, it’s her again,” Frankie said matter-of-factly, giving me a sidelong glance to gauge my reaction. “God, she’s always on here. A right little nympho, that one.”
“Wh-what’s she doing?” I asked, so unprepared for this breathtakingly shocking image that I could barely muster a coherent thought, let alone summon up the words to articulate it.
“It’s a cam thing,” Frankie tried to explain, but I could only look at her blankly. “You know – chat rooms. Kids are always doing stuff online, but some of them can be persuaded to take their knickers off.”
“By who?”
“Baaad people,” Frankie said with a reproachful pout that wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all me.
“Wait, is this live? She’s doing this right now?”
“Uh, yeah. Obviously.”
The little girl shuffled closer to the camera – Smartphone. All the kids have smartphones these days – and spread her hairless pussy open. “This what you wanna see?” she asked. An American kid, then. So sassy and confident.
“My God, she’s so young,” I muttered, still struggling to take in what I was seeing. I’d heard rumours about this kind of porn circulating on the web, but seeing it for myself was another thing entirely.
Frankie was studying me carefully, probably trying to decide if she’d gone too far. “I did say it wasn’t exactly legal. Are you okay with this?”
Some part of me said, No, I’m bloody well not okay with this! Another, more sexually devious part of me insisted, Fuck yeah, bring it on!
“It’s… I mean, it’s fucking hot,” I admitted. “But why would a girl her age do something like… that?”
Frankie shrugged. “I dunno. Don’t all little girls like to show their pussies? I sure did when I was that age. Didn’t you? Anyway, who cares why she does it?”
That’s the thing about Frankie – she isn’t really concerned how the rollercoaster works, long as she gets to ride it.
Her hand found its way between my legs. “Do you like her?”
“Well, yeah,” I found myself saying, shock rapidly giving way to pure arousal. “She’s cute.”
“And what about her smooth little pussy?” Frankie murmured. “Do you like that?”
I could only nod.
“It’d be nice to lick, wouldn’t it?”
“I dunno. Maybe. Yeah, I guess so.”
Frankie spun a finger across my clit while I sat transfixed. “I’d like to see you run your tongue up and down that sweet little cunt.”
Turning her back to the camera, the girl was now spreading her arse cheeks apart without a shred of inhibition.
“Look at that arsehole,” Frankie hissed as she fingered me. “I’ll bet it tastes delicious.”
“This is so wrong,” I groaned. “But so incredibly hot.”
“Shall we ask her to do something?” Frankie suggested.
“Like what?” I asked breathlessly.
“What do you want to see her do?”
A multitude of possibilities flitted through my mind, each more filthy than the last. I decided to start with the basics. “I – I think I’d like to see her finger herself.”
My own hand replaced Frankie’s between my legs while she typed away on her laptop. She seemed entirely unconcerned that some of the keys were now spotted with my fluids.
Hi cutie, can u stick a finger in your pussy?
“You wanna see me finger my trickle?” the little girl cooed.
Frankie’s fingers were a blur of movement across her keyboard, as were mine between my legs.
I’d love to see u do that! That would be so hot!
The girl made a show of spreading her pussy, pouting at the camera, then slipping a finger inside all the way up to the second knuckle. As she worked it back and forth, I realised she must have broken her hymen at some point. She was wet down there, too. I didn’t remember ever getting that juicy when I was her age.
“Mmmm… feels good!” the child squealed as she masturbated, little squelchy noises accompanying each pump of her wrist.
I told myself that if kids were doing porn these days, confining it to the safety of their own homes was a marginally better option than performing for some paedophile cameraman. This was where the self-justification began; the start of a battle I was never going to win.
Frankie was typing out a request of her own, a delighted grin on her face. At least she didn’t seem to have any moral quandaries about what we were doing.
Show us your bumhole while u finger your pussy.
Frankie slipped a hand down between her legs and gave me a smirk. “This is fun, right?”
“It’s, er, quite the eye-opener.”
Our little webcam exhibitionist lifted her legs up towards her head, giving us a nice view of her rosebud as she fingered herself. I loved how she was only wearing a pink t-shirt. It somehow made the whole spectacle seem even dirtier.
“Ask her to p-put something up her arse,” I muttered, now close to orgasm.
“Dirty bitch,” Frankie chuckled as she typed in my request.
Can u put something up your bum, sweetie?
“Up my bottom? Like a – a toothbrush or something?” the child asked.
Perfect!
“Okay, hold on.” She bounced onto her feet and ran off camera, her pert buttocks jiggling. I could see a bed in the background; pink sheets and pink pillows. The walls were adorned with posters and pictures typical of a girl her age. It looked a lot like my daughter Kerry’s room. That thought aroused me even more, though I avoided asking myself why. Probably best not to overanalyse.
The girl returned with a toothbrush in her hand, but suddenly froze like a deer caught in headlights, a look of alarm on her face. After a moment or two she gave a relieved sigh. “Dang, I thought my mom was comin’ upstairs!” She sat back down on the floor and spread her legs once again. Licking the toothbrush handle up and down, she brought it to her pink pucker. “So you want me to put this in my butt, huh?”
Encouraging the girl, Frankie typed out an enthusiastic, yes please!
I was beginning to wonder just how many of these cam shows she’d watched.
The girl pushed the smooth end of the toothbrush into her arsehole up to the halfway point and proceeded to fuck herself with it. “Mmmmm, yeah… feels so nice in my butt!” we were reliably informed.
“Well, would you look at that…” I mumbled, my hand finding its way between Frankie’s thighs, just as hers settled between mine. “I had no idea kids could be so filthy.”
“I’d love to lick her arsehole while you suck on that bare pussy,” my lover hissed, fingering me to an inevitable orgasm.
I arched my pelvis against Frankie’s fingers, the intensity of my climax causing me to squirt a little. Frankie brought herself off while I was recovering, mauling her swollen clit until she exploded into a series of mini convulsions while muttering the usual obscenities.
The webcam girl – who at some point had decided to stick a marker pen into her pussy along with the toothbrush up her arse – bounced onto her feet. “Shit, my mom’s callin’ me for supper. I gotta go, guys. Thank you!” She blew a kiss to the camera, and a moment later we were looking at a black screen.
Frankie and I sat and stared at each other. Finally I broke the silence. “Uh… did we just watch kiddy porn?”
“Yeah,” Frankie confirmed sheepishly. “More or less.”
“Okay, then.” I pointed to the TV. “So… do you watch that kind of thing a lot?”
“I mean, I wouldn’t say a lot,” Frankie replied, and then amended that with, “Not since I moved in with you, at least.”
I wasn’t sure how I felt about my girlfriend getting off to child pornography behind my back. I’ve never been the kind of person to concern myself with other people’s personal business, but there was still the question of the very illegal nature of the video we’d just watched, and the fact that my eight-year-old daughter might end up finding Frankie’s stash of illicit material.
“I guess you watch them when I’m not around,” I said.
“Everyone watches porn behind their partner’s back,” Frankie explained, completely unruffled. “It’s perfectly normal and healthy.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Not that kind of porn, you dirty cow!”
I adjourned to the kitchen to retrieve another bottle of red wine, then refilled our glasses. “So… you like little girls?” I asked in a tone that was as neutral as such a question would allow.
Frankie crossed her arms and arched a brow at me. “Oh, we’re going there, are we? You didn’t seem to have any objections to watching a little girl stick a toothbrush up her bum when you were coming on my fingers.”
“I’m not judging! I just didn’t know about this side of you. Well, beyond your usual perving over schoolgirls, that is. I’m kind of intrigued, that’s all.”
Frankie gave a shrug. “Honestly, I like all girls – big ones, little ones… er… other… ones. I’m not a paedo, or anything like that, I just think it’s a hot fantasy.” Clearing her throat, she adopted a philosophical tone. “In my opinion, all women are into little girls, even if they won’t admit it. And you basically just proved me right. Thanks for not breaking up with me, by the way.”
“What about Kerry?” I asked. “Do you think she’s hot?”
That earned me a scathing look. “Sarah. Don’t even go there. I love Kerry like she’s my own kid. I would never touch her.”
I leaned over to kiss her on the cheek. “I’m just kidding! You’re so easy to wind up.”
Frankie scowled at me, so I kissed her on the cheek again, then on the nape of the neck. When her eyes had softened somewhat, I nuzzled her ear and whispered, “What if I gave you permission to touch her?”
Frankie’s eyes lit up. She nibbled at her lower lip. “Would you?”
“No. Maybe. If Kerry wanted to. Actually, no. I dunno.”
We both broke into peals of laughter.
Frankie nudged me in the arm. “You’re such a pisstaker. Look, did you like the video or not?”
“Yes, Frankie,” I conceded, rolling my eyes. “I liked it very much.”
“Then let’s just agree that it was fun to watch, and that’s that. Okay?”
I took a mouthful of wine and let it coat the back of my throat. The warmth of it radiated through me pleasantly. “Fine.”
The truth was, I couldn’t stop thinking about the video. I’d never considered children to be sexual creatures before, but when you’re confronted by the image of a little girl fucking herself up the arse with a toothbrush, your whole perspective changes. It was new. And different. And for those of us intent on exploring our sexuality to the full, new and different are valuable currency.
I was starting to feel horny again. “I’d very much like to rub my cunt on yours,” I informed Frankie.
“That sounds nice,” she agreed, then slugged back the last few mouthfuls of her wine in one gulp.
My moral compass no longer a reliable navigation aid, a naughty idea implanted itself into my brain and refused to be dislodged. “Not here, though.”
“Where, then?”
“Kerry’s room.” And there it was.
Frankie stared at me, probably trying to decide if I was having her on again. “You wanna fuck in Kerry’s room?”
“Yeah. I really do.” I offered the obligatory disclaimer. “It doesn’t mean anything, just a bit of fun.”
At some point during our adventure, those disclaimers would become surplus to requirements.
So we ended up in my eight-year-old daughter’s bedroom, mouth to pussy on her pink duvet, entwined naked amongst all the soft toys and colourful throw pillows. Then I had Frankie lean over Kerry’s little homework desk while I ate her arse, and after that we rubbed our cunts together on the pink rug, the one with the picture of a unicorn. We’d had sex in some novel places before – one memorable liaison in the public library springs to mind – but never in my little girl’s bedroom. I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of it before. It was inspired. And extremely fucking hot.
I lost count of all the orgasms we had that evening. My daughter’s duvet bore the brunt of our lovemaking, and I reminded myself that it would need washing before Kerry got back on Sunday.
3
On Saturday we did Saturday stuff: stocked up on groceries, visited the gym, indulged in some serious retail therapy, then came back home for lunch and coffee. The rest of the day was spent lazing around on phones and laptops, and it wasn’t long before my perverted mind was drifting back to the video we’d watched the night before.
“Can we watch another one of those cam shows?” I asked Frankie sheepishly.
A pleased grin crept onto my girlfriend’s face. “Oh, you’ve got it bad, babe!”
“Fuck off, no I don’t! I’m just bored.”
“Don’t know if anyone will be on this time of day, but we could have a look.”
Frankie opened her laptop up, but sure enough, there didn’t seem to be much going on: A fat teenager licking her own tits; Another younger girl who clearly wasn’t willing to take her clothes off.
“Just normal porn, then?” I said, resigning myself to an afternoon of mainstream wank material. Sometimes you’ve gotta work with what you’ve got.
Except Frankie was giving me another one of her looks.
“What now?” I said.
“I have some other stuff on my laptop. Not live cam shows. Just videos.”
“Kid stuff?”
“Yeah.”
“Show me,” I heard myself say.
Frankie accessed an encrypted file on her laptop. I could see a series of thumbnails. After clicking on one, a grainy image appeared. A little girl of around five or six was lying on a bed with her legs open as a woman ate her out.
“Holy fuck,” I gasped, amazed and ever so slightly appalled. “I had no idea you were this perverted.”
“Shall I turn it off?”
“No!”
How on earth had Frankie managed to keep all this hidden from me? She’d shown me some weird stuff before – videos of women fucking dogs, BDSM, watersports. But kiddy porn? I had to wonder if I knew my girlfriend as well as I thought.
“This is one of my favourites,” Frankie told me. “Later on, the girl goes down on the lady—”
“Oi, don’t spoil the plot!” I chided, shoving a hand down my jeans.
Frankie laughed. “It’s not War and Peace.”
“Let’s watch it in Kerry’s room.”
“Oh, dear,” said a smirking Frankie. “I think I’ve created a monster.”
We took the laptop through to Kerry’s bedroom, lounging on the bed with our backs against the wall.
“I’m gonna get comfortable,” I announced and took off my jeans and panties. Frankie followed suit, and we settled down to watch the taboo footage.
“D-do you think they’re mother and daughter?” I pondered while I fingered myself.
Frankie ploughed through her wet folds. I could smell her familiar musky scent. “Yeah, definitely. They look alike.”
The woman flipped her little girl onto all fours, then set about eating her arse. What possessed a mother to do that with her kid? Money, I guessed. Surely mums weren’t supposed to be sexually attracted to their children, although this one was doing a pretty good job of pretending otherwise.
“Fuck yeah,” Frankie growled, treating herself to another finger. “Eat that little arsehole.”
I unsheathed my clit, strumming my fingers across the exposed node. “I bet she smells so good.”
That gave me an idea – a very dirty idea that would involve crossing certain lines. If I’d listened to my better judgement that day, I’m sure we’d all still be living out our relatively normal lives. The problem was, lust insisted on taking the wheel, gleefully hurtling down the road while my rationale had no option but to take a back seat.
“Back in a sec,” I told Frankie, and hastened to the bathroom.
Our washing hamper has a smiley face on one side. That afternoon the smile seemed inexplicably wider, and a good deal more devious. Go on, it seemed to taunt. You know you want to. Where’s the harm?
I lifted the lid. Various soiled garments inhabited the hamper, but I wanted something quite specific. I fished around and soon found what I was looking for: a small pair of pink panties. I pulled them open and found some stains, faint but noticeable. I screwed them up in my fist and carried them back to Kerry’s room.
“Close your eyes,” I told Frankie as I took my place on the bed.
“Close my eyes? I want to watch the naughty video, though,” my bemused lover replied.
“Just do it,” I insisted.
She rolled her eyes and then squeezed them shut. I crushed my daughter’s dirty panties against her face.
“What’s this?” Frankie asked.
“Smell them.”
She took a tentative sniff. “Ooh, sticking your dirty knickers in my face. Kinky!”
“Now you can open your eyes again.”
Frankie snapped her eyes open and peered at the pink wad of cotton I held before her. When she realised whose underwear they were, her eyes widened in surprise. “Kerry’s?”
I gave her a nod, then pushed them back under her nose.
“What is wrong with you?” Frankie mumbled through the soiled material, though I was quick to notice she wasn’t making much effort to push them away.
“You showed me kiddy porn, and that’s way worse,” I told her smugly, as if making my girlfriend smell my daughter’s dirty undies had somehow gained me the moral high ground. “Besides, I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve sneaked the odd pair of Kerry’s panties out of the washing basket when I’m not looking.”
Frankie looked a little put out by that. “I bloody well haven’t! I told you, I wouldn’t do anything like that without your permission.”
I dangled the soiled underwear in front of her nose. “Well, I’m giving you permission now. Smell my little girl’s knickers.”
Frankie breathed in deeply, scissoring two fingers in and out of her cunt as I held the panties against her face.
I turned my attention back to the laptop, where the woman in the video was splayed out on the bed, her little girl fixed firmly between her legs, lapping away at Mummy’s cunt.
Frankie took advantage of my lapse of concentration and snatched Kerry’s knickers off me, pushing them into my face. “How’d you like that, you dirty cow?” she cooed.
A subtle, fruity musk awakened my senses – a combined perfume of arse, pee, sweat, laundry soap and a faint trace of pussy. Was my little girl getting aroused, perhaps even masturbating? I didn’t remember playing with myself at that age, but no two girls were alike when it came to discovering their sexuality.
I decided I liked this new fantasy, foolishly convincing myself that it was just a bit of harmless fun. Me, Frankie, a pair of my eight-year-old’s soiled underwear. Just a dirty little game. That’s all.
All the components were there for an earth-shattering orgasm: Fingers in my pussy, my daughter’s sweet aroma teasing my senses, the wet sound of Frankie mauling her cunt next to me. Oh, and the image of a little girl fisting her mummy on a laptop screen.
“Fuck!” I cried into Kerry’s knickers, my climax crashing over me. “Fuck fuck fuck.”
Frankie was watching me intently when she came soon after, the sight of me climaxing with my daughter’s knickers pressed firmly to my nose evidently a more erotic proposition than the child porn on her laptop. I’m sure she’d watched that particular video plenty of times before, after all.
We leaned in and kissed one another deeply, as we so often did post sex. It was a way to reaffirm our love, I think. No matter how nasty the sex got, no matter the name-calling or the overzealous roleplay, we still loved each other very much. The sex was more than great, but mere fuck-buddies we were not.
Frankie and I regarded one another for a good long while, until finally I found some words. “What on earth have we got ourselves into?”
Frankie offered me an impish smile. “Dunno, but I think I like it.”
“Me too,” I agreed.
Frankie cleaned up the bedroom while I put Kerry’s bed sheets into the washing machine, along with the small pair of pink panties that were the catalyst of everything that followed.
And as far as we were concerned, that was that. A moment of kinky madness, and on we went with our lives.
When evening came, we were tucked up on the couch in t-shirts and knickers, another bottle of wine gracing the coffee table.
Frankie took a mouthful of claret, then shook her head with a chuckle.
I looked at her straight-faced. “What?”
“I can’t believe you had us sniffing Kerry’s knickers like that.”
“Well, I’m still pretty scandalised about those videos you showed me, but I won’t tell if you won’t. Let’s just agree we’re both a couple of perverts and leave it at that.”
Frankie nibbled on her lower lip. “Do you… y’know, ever think about doing stuff with her?”
“Kerry?”
“Yeah.”
I should’ve been furious that she’d even suggest such a thing, but after the videos, and our unique use for Kerry’s panties, the idea didn’t seem quite as outrageous as it once might have. “I wouldn’t go that far,” I said. “But…”
“What?”
I shook my head and laughed it off. “It doesn’t matter. It’s a bit embarrassing.”
“Tell me,” Frankie pressed.
“When Kerry was a baby, I used to masturbate while she suckled from me,” I admitted, remembering how good it’d felt to have Kerry’s lips clamped firmly around my nipple.
“Wow,” was all Frankie could say.
I shrugged. “It felt quite natural, to be honest. I don’t think it’s that uncommon for women to get turned on while breastfeeding.”
Frankie seemed to be giving some serious thought to that. “That’s actually really fucking hot. Maybe I should have a baby.”
“Babies are for life, sweetheart,” I told her, “not just cummies.”
“Yeah, true,” she conceded. “Besides – being impregnated by a man? Excruciating labour pain? Sore nipples? Changing shitty nappies? I’ll pass.”
I kissed her tenderly, then asked, “Want me to fuck you with a strapon while we watch another one of your little-girl videos?”
Frankie gave me yet another of those special looks. “Sold.”
Kerry would be back from her dad’s the next day. I hoped things wouldn’t feel weird around her. I’d sniffed her dirty panties, sure, but that didn’t mean I wanted to molest her or anything. That’s not how it works, is it? It’s just a naughty fantasy. Kerry would come home, and things would go back to normal. Right?
Right?
On to Chapter Two!