The Story Thus Far
Ch1: In which Sarah and Frankie peruse some rather risqué entertainment, then get intimately acquainted with a pair of soiled undies. Who says staying at home on weekends is boring?
by BlueJean
1
Sunday morning was spent cleaning the house from top to bottom. Bed linen and risqué weekend lingerie were washed, windows opened to let the aroma of sex escape, and incriminating laptops and sex toys hidden where inquisitive little girls wouldn’t find them. It always made me feel like a naughty teenager, frantically cleaning up after a wild party before the unsuspecting parents came back home.
As the afternoon arrived, so did my daughter, bounding up the front steps with her father in tow. My ex-husband used to be called Dan, but since the divorce I’ve taken to calling him The Arsehole. I think it’s a lovely name which suits him down to the ground.
“Mummy!” squealed Kerry as she crashed into me for a big hug.
“Hey, Peanut,” I said, stroking her curly blonde locks. “Did you have a good time?”
Kerry gave an enthusiastic nod. “We went to a really posh restaurant, and Daddy bought me some new clothes.”
“Oh, that sounds nice,” I said. It was standard behaviour from my ex – the easiest way for him to interact with something he doesn’t quite understand is to throw money at it and hope it makes approving noises.
“You okay?” I asked, giving him one of those special smiles that somehow manages to convey disapproval more than friendliness.
“Yep,” he grunted noncommittally as he deposited Kerry’s bag on the step and reached down to give her a brief hug. “See you next weekend, sprogget.”
“Bye, Daddy,” my daughter piped, then lugged her bag past me into the house.
Her father raised a hand to me as he strolled back to his car. That was about as chatty as we got these days. I suppose it must be a real blow to the male ego, losing your wife to another woman.
Kerry was in the kitchen with Frankie, rambling away about her weekend. “…and I had this massive pizza with literally everything on it, but I couldn’t eat it all, so the restaurant lady put it in a box and let me take it home. I still managed dessert, though. Then earlier, Daddy took me shopping, so I got some new jeans and two T-shirts. Oh, and we…”
Frankie swept my daughter’s hair out of her eyes while she nibbled on her sourdough toast, nodding and humming in all the right places. “Sounds awesome!” she enthused when Kerry was finally done.
Kerry and Frankie got on spectacularly. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying Frankie is a responsible parent. If someone was foolish enough to entrust her with their children, she’d probably lose them somewhere, or let them starve to death by accident. What I mean is, Frankie’s good with kids because she’s essentially a kid herself.
“Mummy, Daddy’s moving away soon, so I won’t be able to stay with him much.”
This was news to me, which wasn’t surprising given the lack of communication between Kerry’s father and myself. “Oh? Where’s he moving to?”
“Dooby,” my daughter informed me.
“Huh?”
“Um… Dooby?” she repeated, unsure.
“Dooby?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s Dooby?”
“A country.”
Frankie chuckled. “You mean Dubai?”
“Oh, yeah, I meant that.”
“Nice of him to let me know,” I muttered. Not that I gave a shit what The Arsehole did with himself, but considering the impact it would have on our daughter’s life, you’d think it might have at least warranted a phone call. Wanker. “When is he moving out there?”
Kerry eyed Frankie’s toast with considerable interest. “In a month, maybe two months or something. It’s to do with his job.”
“Oh, okay. Are you sad that you won’t be able to stay with him anymore?”
“Yeah, I s’pose. But I’ll still see him sometimes – he says he’ll be back quite a lot. And anyway, I want to see what you and Frankie do when I’m not here.”
Frankie nearly choked on her toast.
“Uh, well, it’ll be nice for us all to spend some weekends together for a change,” I said, giving Frankie a wry look. She popped the rest of her toast into Kerry’s mouth.
Kerry hummed away happily as she polished off the snack, then took out her phone. “Frankie, have you ever seen a dog riding a bike?”
Frankie looked intrigued. “I have not, Peanut-chan, but I’m pretty sure my life will be incomplete until I do.”
While Kerry showed Frankie YouTube videos, I took her travel bag up to the bathroom to empty her dirty clothes into the washing basket.
I soon found myself with two pairs of Kerry’s used knickers in my hand, a white pair with pink hearts, and a baby blue pair with yellow trim. I held them for a moment, a low throb pulsing between my thighs.
Put them in the basket, you stupid cow.
Instead, I closed and locked the bathroom door, then sat down on the toilet.
A voice echoed through my head, like a policeman barking commands through a loudhailer. Step away from the panties! Step. Away. From the panties!
I inspected the crotch of the white pair. There was a little pale stain in there, right where Kerry’s pussy had nestled against the soft fabric.
This is ridiculous. She’s downstairs in the kitchen, for God’s sake.
I clamped Kerry’s panties to my face and breathed in. A light musky scent filled my nostrils, intoxicating me. I uttered the obligatory mantra of all dedicated perverts the world over: “Fuck yeah…”
The blue pair were even more fragrant, and I had to wonder if Kerry had touched herself through them. Had she started masturbating yet? True, she was only eight, but she wouldn’t be the first little girl to discover what her body was capable of. Is that what she did at night in bed? Snaking an exploratory hand down beneath her quilt and into her knickers?
I popped the buttons on my jeans and pushed them down to my ankles, along with my underwear. Still sniffing Kerry’s blue panties, I scrubbed the other pair against my pussy, pushing the soft cotton between my lips.
“You smell so fucking nice, Kerry,” I muttered.
Extending my tongue, I ran the tip across the soiled crotch, the sheer depravity of the act making my cunt throb with an even greater urgency. I was on the verge of coming quick and hard, perched on the loo with my own underwear stretched round my ankles while I did terrible, perverted things to my eight-year-old daughter’s soiled knickers. I was a dirty, sick, depraved lady, but right then I didn’t give a flying fuck.
Just then, the door handle turned. “Mummy, I need a wee!” Kerry shouted from the other side.
“Shit!” I hissed and quickly tugged my jeans up. “Hold on, sweetie.” I deposited her panties into the washing hamper and unlocked the door, acutely aware that the bathroom was now infused with the musky scent of pussy.
Kerry bounded in and pulled her shorts and knickers down in one fluid movement, then parked herself on the still-warm loo seat. I saw her nostrils flare briefly, but I don’t think she gave much thought to the lingering aroma; maybe wasn’t even aware of what it was.
“Why did you lock the door?” she asked. Suffice to say, the three of us never bothered locking the bathroom door unless we had guests.
“Uh, dunno,” I replied, and Kerry seemed to find the answer satisfactory.
I deposited the rest of her clothes into the bin, which happened to be right next to the toilet. That afforded me the opportunity to steal quick glances of Kerry’s smooth slit as she peed.
Jesus, get a grip! I berated myself. If I was getting turned on by my daughter, it was only because I was allowing myself to. It didn’t mean I was attracted to her, I reasoned. Frankie’s kiddy porn had been a massive turn-on simply because it’d been something new and novel, not because I was hot for little girls.
You don’t suddenly turn into a kiddy-fiddler halfway through your life, but still… you need to be smart about this, okay? Don’t do anything stupid.
Kerry pulled her shorts back up and flushed the loo, then insisted on showing me her snazzy new jeans, which seemed to have far more zippers, buckles and buttons than was strictly warranted.
I really needed to come.
2
When evening came around, the three of us observed our usual Sunday ritual of cooking a roast dinner together. Frankie and Kerry chopped up vegetables while I basted the meat and drank wine. I got the better job, I think.
As we haphazardly prepared our meal, laughing and chatting about this and that, it reminded me of what a perfect little family unit we had. Life was good.
Me and Frankie got a tad tipsy as usual, and we even let Kerry have a small glass of watered down white wine. I don’t think she enjoyed the taste much, but she liked to feel included.
We finished our meal, then settled down in the lounge to watch TV for the remainder of the evening. At some point, Kerry took herself to bed, and me and Frankie weren’t far behind. Tomorrow was a school/work day. Granted, we both worked from home – me as a proofreader and Frankie as a blogger – but that still required actually getting out of bed in the morning and doing some work.
“It wasn’t weird with Kerry, was it?” I said as we lay in bed. “It didn’t make things weird – you know, when she came back? There was no… weirdness or anything?”
Frankie was checking emails and blog posts on her laptop. “If you’re asking me if it was weird – and I think you might be – no, of course not. I nearly died when she mentioned being here for our weekend activities, though.”
“Mmm. Well, with her dad moving to Dubai, and Kerry home for the weekends, I get the feeling we won’t be enjoying our kinky escapades for a while.”
Frankie afforded me a disapproving pout. “We can still watch the occasional sneaky video, can’t we?” she pointed out, then added, “And if a certain little girl’s dirty knickers found their way into our bedroom – completely by accident, of course – we could have some naughty fun with them. Or was that just a one-off?”
I was tempted to tell her about the bathroom incident, but I was allowed to have my own secrets, wasn’t I? God knows, Frankie had kept her penchant for kiddy porn hidden from me long enough.
“Oh, you enjoyed my daughter’s panties, did you?” I teased.
“I think we both did. Didn’t we?”
“Hmm… maybe the Panty Fairy left us something.”
“Oooh, there’s a Panty Fairy?!” Frankie squealed, clapping her hands together like a kid who’s just inherited a sweet shop.
“You didn’t know about the Panty Fairy? I hear she leaves dirty panties under your pillow if you’re a good girl.”
“Fuck off!”
“It’s true!”
We both broke into peals of laughter.
“Shhh, we’ll wake Kerry!” I hissed, still laughing. When we’d regained some composure, I raised a wry eyebrow at Frankie. “Well? Aren’t you going to check under your pillow?”
The smile vanished from Frankie’s face for a brief moment. She lifted her pillow a few inches and peered beneath. Sure enough, the Panty Fairy had paid her a visit, which was odd because Frankie was definitely not a good girl. Sandwiched between the two pillows was the little blue pair of panties I’d already had some fun with earlier in the bathroom.
“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” a delighted Frankie cooed, drawing her prize out.
“Smell them,” I demanded.
“Let’s smell them together.”
“No, just you. I want to play with myself while I watch you.”
Frankie rolled her eyes. “Jesus, I thought I was supposed to be the perverted one.” She pushed Kerry’s panties against her nose and breathed in the aroma.
“Nice?” I asked.
“Even better than the last pair.”
I could’ve told her that already, of course. “You’re a nasty girl, Frankie.” I pushed back the quilt, then slipped my pyjama bottoms down my legs. I didn’t hesitate in treating my pussy to several fingers.
Frankie gripped the panties between her teeth while she got naked.
“Lick them for me, you dirty bitch,” I growled while I fucked myself, so she made a show of slowly sliding her tongue up and down the crotch of the soiled material.
“Is this wrong?” Frankie said as she rubbed the damp knickers over her tits. “Playing kinky games with your daughter’s underwear while she’s asleep in the next room?”
I knew Frankie wasn’t in the slightest bit concerned about the morality of what we were doing. It was just a game to her – the talking, the taunting, the dirty words. If I’d been in any doubt, that little smirk, and the sing-song lilt of her voice, would’ve given her away in an instant.
“Yes, it’s wrong,” I groaned. “That’s what makes it so exciting, isn’t it?”
Frankie brought Kerry’s panties to her face again. “Her pussy smells quite strong. Think she’s masturbating yet?”
“Dunno. She’s only eight. That cam girl of yours wasn’t much older, though.”
An image of Kerry fucking herself with a toothbrush suddenly deposited itself into my perverted brain. This time, I didn’t bother fighting it. As long as it was safely confined to my head, it wasn’t doing any harm, right? And it was an awfully compelling image.
“I think we should rub our pussies together,” Frankie declared.
The two of us sat propped up on our elbows and joined together. Worried Kerry’s underwear hadn’t suffered enough abuse, I decided to stuff them between our legs so we could rub ourselves on the soiled fabric.
“Those knickers are going to be such a mess when we’ve finished with them,” Frankie cooed as we ground against the sodden material.
“Wouldn’t it be hot if she wore them to school tomorrow?” I groaned.
“God, you’re sick,” Frankie hissed. “I’m so lucky you’re my girlfriend.”
I was quick to come, arching my hips up against Frankie’s pussy and the little pair of child’s panties stuffed between us. The soft cotton took the brunt of my orgasm, absorbing the warm fluids that oozed so copiously from me.
A delighted Frankie took the messy knickers and attached them to her face without a hint of inhibition. Spent though I was, I scooted down the bed and ate her out until she came. I’m nothing if not considerate.
3
The next morning I left Frankie fast asleep in bed and went to wake Kerry. While she got herself ready for school, I made her a bowl of cereal and myself a strong coffee. A few minutes later she was sitting up to the kitchen table in her school uniform.
“What’s on the agenda today?” I asked as Kerry spooned sugary wisps of nothing into her mouth.
“We’re learning about the extinction of the dinosaurs,” she replied with her mouth half full. “And we’re doing a painting in art class. We can paint anything we want.”
A little flake of cereal managed to escape the carnage and was currently weighing up its options on her top lip.
“Swallow first, then talk,” I told her as I pulled the offending fragment away.
“Your fingers smell funny,” Kerry informed me matter-of-factly.
Of course they did. My fingers had been inside my pussy last night, inside Frankie’s too, for that matter, and I hadn’t washed them yet. My scent had always been quite strong – Kerry probably inherited that from me.
I should have pulled my fingers away, but instead I let them linger near her nose. “Good funny or bad funny?” I asked her.
What the hell are you doing?
“Kind of… good funny, I guess?” Kerry replied, a hint of colour reaching her cheeks. “It smells like the bathroom when I came in yesterday.”
I think she must have known what it was. Sure, she was only eight, but if she was anything like her mum she was already smelling and tasting herself. I’d always enjoyed the taste of my own pussy, even before I’d become sexually active.
Kerry gazed up at me while I let her smell last night’s arousal on my fingers. I wondered what she would think if she knew her own panties were to blame. I also wondered how I could persuade her to put a hand up her skirt and let Mummy have a little whiff of her fingers.
Frankie broke the spell when she shuffled into the kitchen. “Must. Have. Coffee,” she droned, lurching forward with her arms extended like Frankenstein’s monster.
Kerry giggled at my girlfriend’s foolishness.
“Okay, Peanut, eat up and let’s get you to school,” I said, then headed to the bathroom to wash my hands, brush my teeth and finger myself to a quick orgasm. Not necessarily in that order.
4
After I’d dropped Kerry off at school I decided to call in on my sister Judy, who lived not far from us.
Judy’s two years older than me and my confidante. We have a very close relationship, and I know if I ever have any problems, I can sound off on her and vice versa. She’s married to an Italian antiques dealer named Marco, and they have an adorable five-year-old girl.
When I pulled up in their drive, Marco was just leaving the house, my niece skipping along behind him. Isobel, or ‘Izzy’ as we all called her – was a beautiful little girl who inherited her father’s dark hair and olive skin.
She bounded over to give me a hug. “Hello, Aunty Sarah!”
“Hiya, Izzy! Are you off to school?”
The five-year-old nodded enthusiastically.
“You’ll have to come and visit me and Aunty Frankie and Kerry soon. They’d love to see you,” I told her.
“‘Kay,” she piped, then jumped in the car as her father opened the door for her.
“How you doin’, Sarah?” Marco asked in his soft accent.
Okay, I admit, my sister’s man was quite handsome. She definitely got the better deal as far as husbands were concerned, though I’m reliably informed he’s not even remotely into licking arse. That’s a complete deal-breaker for me.
“I’m good, thanks,” I told him. “Is my sister up yet?”
“She is. Still in her pyjamas,” he informed me with a good-natured eye-roll.
Marco had left the front door ajar for me, so I let myself in and hollered, “Jude?”
“In the lounge,” my sister called back.
I found her curled up on the couch with a cup of coffee. “Well, this is an early visit,” she said. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I just dropped Kerry off at school and thought I’d pop in to catch up.”
“Coffee?”
Judy made good coffee. Well, Marco’s expensive coffee machine made good coffee. Another perk of having an Italian husband, I suppose. That’s a nation that takes its morning brew seriously.
“Please,” I said, and followed her into the kitchen where the magic happened.
“How’s Kerry and Frankie?” my sister asked.
“They’re okay.”
“And how’s your sex life?”
“Very nice, thanks. Yours?”
“Rubbish. That’s why I’m asking about yours.”
“Marco can’t be that bad in bed,” I scoffed. My sister did tend to exaggerate a bit.
“No, of course he’s not. And I do love him. It’s just all a bit… generic?”
“I definitely couldn’t accuse Frankie of being generic,” I mused, sipping my coffee.
“I want a kinky lesbian lover, too!” my sister pouted.
“Well, you can’t have mine, so shush!”
That reminded me of why I’d come in the first place. “Actually, I need to talk to you. We kind of got ourselves into some weird stuff.”
“You and Frankie?”
“Yeah.”
“Define weird stuff.”
“Sex stuff.”
She actually rubbed her hands together. “Finally, we get down to the nitty gritty!”
“You won’t judge me, will you?” I asked her seriously.
“I wouldn’t ever,” she assured me, and I knew she was as good as her word.
I took a deep breath. “Okay, so we’re in the lounge watching porn, and Frankie’s licking my arse, and she ends up sitting on my face, and it all gets a bit messy as usual, blah blah blah—”
“Wait!” Judy protested. “You’re skipping the best bits!”
“No. I’m really not. Now shush and let me finish.”
“Sorry, carry on. Actually, let’s go into the lounge. I wanna get comfortable while you tell it.”
We took our coffee into the lounge and settled on Judy’s big leather couch. I picked up where I left off.
“So, Frankie gives me this weird look and says she has something to show me.” I paused to take a slug of coffee, then continued. “And… Okay. So we, we kind of, um… watched a naked little girl play with herself?”
My sister sat there dumbstruck. “Child porn?” she said after a long uncomfortable pause.
“A live cam show,” I said, as if that somehow made it more acceptable. “But I suppose it was kiddy porn, yeah.”
“Do you mind if I put a hand down my knickers?” my sister asked without waiting for a reply.
Now, I know what you’re thinking – my sister frigging herself while I give her all the juicy details about my sex life is not the usual sibling dynamic. Well, the truth is, Judy and I have been fucking each other every now and again since we were kids. She even joins me and Frankie for threesomes on occasion. Of course, Marco knows nothing of that.
“Was it hot?” Judy asked me, her hand moving beneath her pyjama bottoms.
“Was what hot?”
“The child porn, dummy!”
“Oh. Yeah, it really was. I don’t think the girl was even ten. Her legs were practically wrapped around her head at one point. It was absolutely filthy!”
I fixed my gaze on my sister’s knuckles undulating beneath her jammies. I could hear her fingers sloshing around in her pussy, and smell the musky scent of her arousal. My own lust was beginning to stir. It didn’t take much to get me going these days.
“Christ,” Judy crooned. “I wouldn’t mind seeing something like that. Can you get Frankie to show me how to find it.”
“Uh, no, Judy. First, it’s illegal as hell. Second, you get confused working the TV remote. You’ll end up getting caught.”
“Just tell me what happened, then. This is a huge turn-on, by the way.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
I honestly hadn’t been sure how my sister would take what I was telling her. Of course, she’d never shop me to the police, but I worried we’d end up falling out over it. It was a big relief to discover how accepting she was.
“Frankie kept asking the kid to do stuff,” I continued.
“Like what?”
“She got her to masturbate. Then she persuaded her to stick a toothbrush up her arse.”
“Oh my God, Sarah. Listen… will you play with yourself for me? I want to come with you.”
I popped the buttons on my trousers and slipped a hand inside, bringing my right leg up to rest against the back of the couch so I had a better view of Judy fingering herself. I continued on with the story.
“So this young girl’s fucking her bum with the toothbrush, and she’s squealing and giggling away like it’s just about the best thing ever. And with the toothbrush still buried in her arse, she decides to – to put one of those fat marker pens into her pussy. I mean, what the hell. Then she just bounces to her feet all of a sudden and logs off ‘cause her mum’s calling her downstairs for supper. How messed up is that?””
Judy shook her head from side to side in an attempt to project a measure of disapproval, but with her hand down her knickers, it didn’t quite have the intended effect. “Sarah, that’s terrible.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, fingers pressed firmly into my sex. “Terrible. And if that wasn’t bad enough, Frankie put on another video – an older one where this woman and her daughter were taking turns eating each other out.”
“Appalling…” Judy groaned, her eyes thick with arousal. “How old was the girl?”
“She couldn’t have been much older than Izzy. Five or six? She had her entire hand in the woman’s vagina, Judy. I’ve never seen anything like it. Well, not with kids, at least.”
“Oh, the poor little thing!” Judy gasped, fingers toiling beneath her pyjamas.
“But that’s not the worst part,” I told her. “Actually, it might be the worst part, I’m not sure.”
“What else happened?” my sister demanded. “Hurry up and tell me; I’m g-going to come soon.”
I hesitated, suddenly reluctant to reveal the full extent of my perversion. Then I soldiered on, fully expecting a good telling off from my big sister. “We, um… took a pair of Kerry’s dirty panties and smelled them while we watched the kiddy porn.”
“What?! Fuck!” Judy gasped as she shuddered into orgasm.
The sight of her twitching away beside me was enough to make me come, too. I braced myself against the back of the couch and let it wash over me, then pulled my wet fingers from my knickers to suck clean.
“What on earth were you thinking?” my sister asked once she’d regained the power of speech, giving me a halfhearted shove with her foot.
I gave a derisive snort. “Careful you don’t fall off that high horse, sis. How was the orgasm, by the way?”
“I’m not judging, Sarah. But kiddy porn? Playing with Kerry’s knickers? It’s a slippery slope. You’re not thinking of… doing anything with her, are you? Kerry, I mean.”
“No. I’m not stupid, Judy. But I’m done pretending to be someone I’m not. I had enough of all that with my shitty marriage. I just wanna have a little fun before my hair goes grey and my tits hit the floor.”
Judy took my hand in hers. “I understand, I really do. But don’t get carried away with this, Sarah. Just be careful, okay?”
“I will. Thanks for listening. Well, you mostly just frigged yourself silly, but thanks anyway.”
My sister flashed her eyes at me. “You, me and Frankie should get together for another one of our special ‘sessions’ soon.”
“Been a while, hasn’t it? I’m sure we could arrange something. Frankie keeps mentioning what a tasty bumhole you have.”
Judy wiggled her arse at me. “Well, she would know. Um… can you get Frankie to send me that video? The one with the mum and her daughter?”
“And I’m the pervert? Okay, but do not show it to Marco.”
“As if.”
5
Back at home, I spent a few hours proofreading documents until it was time to pick Kerry up from school. She seemed a little quiet in the car, but I didn’t think anything of it.
When we arrived home, Kerry helped herself to a glass of lemon squash while Frankie asked about her day.
“I painted a picture of you and Mum, but some kids in my class made fun of it,” Kerry told her glumly.
“Why would they do that?” I asked.
“I made one of Frankie’s legs bigger than the other by mistake, and one boy asked if she had to wear one of those big shoes old ladies wear.”
The thought of Frankie clomping about in an orthopaedic shoe had me covering my mouth with a hand to stifle a laugh. Frankie noticed me struggling and looked in the other direction to avoid losing it too.
“That was mean,” I said. “I’ll bet his painting wasn’t anything to shout about.”
“Dunno, but I wish I hadn’t done the picture with you and Frankie holding hands because some of the other kids started asking me about how lesbians do sex.”
Frankie kissed her on the forehead. “Oh, they were probably just curious.”
“They were bloody laughing!”
“Hey, watch your language,” I told her.
“Sorry, but I didn’t know what to say. We did stuff about normal sex in class, but they didn’t say anything about girls doing it with other girls.”
“Girls having sex together is normal too, Kerry,” I explained. “It’s just, if they were teaching you about reproduction and babies, then gay relationships aren’t really part of that.”
“They should teach them about lesbians, though,” Frankie pointed out.
“Yes, they should, but maybe they just haven’t gotten round to that lesson yet,” I reasoned. “Kerry is only eight.”
“How do you do it, though?” Kerry said.
“Do what?” asked Frankie.
“Urgh. Lesbian sex!” my daughter exclaimed, rolling her eyes.
I looked at Frankie. Frankie looked at me.
“I’m not sure you need to know about that just yet,” I told Kerry.
“Well, obviously I do, ’cause they’ll make fun of me again. Charlie Simmons said lesbians have to do it sideways, but that doesn’t even make sense.”
How the hell do you explain the ins and outs of women loving women? I mean, it’s not an exact science. But it had to be better coming from me and Frankie than Charlie fucking Simmons.
“Okay, Peanut,” I said. “Well, let’s see. Frankie? Want to explain how it all works for Kerry?”
Frankie looked out of her depth. Actually, Frankie looked like she had just drowned. “Um. It’s like boy-girl sex but with less… bits?”
I stared across the table at her for a long moment, waiting to see if she had any more wisdom to impart. She did not. “Brilliant. Thanks,” I said.
“You two are really bad at this,” Kerry groaned.
I ran my fingers through her soft blonde curls. “All right, how about this: me and Frankie will figure out what you need to know, and we’ll all sit down and have a big talk about it one evening this week. Is that okay?”
Kerry sighed dramatically. “O-kaay.”
Frankie attacked her with tickles, and Kerry did her best to maintain a solemn demeanour until she was forced into fits of laughter.
I breathed a sigh of relief. We were off the hook. For the moment, at least.
6
Later that evening, after Kerry had gone to bed, Frankie and I lay in ours trying to figure out how to explain the mechanics of girl/girl sex to my eight-year-old daughter.
“So. The Talk,” Frankie said in a doom-laden voice.
“Yup. The Talk,” I concurred.
“The birds and the bees.”
“Or the birds and the birds.”
“Possibly the bees and the bees.”
“At any rate, I’m pretty sure the boy-girl talk is a lot easier than the girl-girl talk,” I said. “Man sticks penis in woman’s vagina, baby pops out nine months later. Done.”
“Wow,” Frankie said, stroking my cheek. “And they say romance is dead.”
“Okay, here’s what we do: we write a list of all the things ladies of the queer persuasion like to do, and if Kerry wants to ask questions, she can.”
Frankie gave me a bemused look. “So we’re going to give her a list? That’s ridiculous.”
“Oh, this from a woman who manages to reduce lesbian lovemaking to ‘like boy-girl sex but with less bits’.”
Frankie stuck her tongue out at me. “Can’t we just tell her we like to kiss and cuddle like everybody else?” she said. “And maybe rub our pussies together once in a while?”
“I think we owe her more than that. It must be hard for her sometimes. Kids don’t like to feel different from everyone else.”
I always knew my relationship with Frankie would leave Kerry somewhat exposed to bullies and ignorant peers. It was something she would have to learn how to deal with as she got older, and there wasn’t much I could do to protect her from it. That tore at me.
“What if we just showed her some videos?” Frankie suggested with a shrug. “I can download some of the softcore ones for her.”
I gave her a scowl. “We’re not letting Kerry watch porn, Frankie. Jesus… And anyway, putting her in front of a TV and saying, ‘There you go, sweetie. Enjoy!’ is a total copout. It’s like a teacher handing out books and then buggering off down the pub for the rest of the day.”
We sat together in silence, mulling it over.
Frankie looked at me warily. “I might have a radical solution,” she imparted, “but you probably won’t like it.”
“I’m all ears.”
“Why don’t we let her watch us?”
I wasn’t sure I’d heard her correctly. “Excuse me?”
“Let her watch us have sex.”
I glared at her open-mouthed. “Are you mental?”
“I’m serious. I actually think it would feel less awkward just to show her than it would if we tried to explain it like a couple of idiots.”
“Uh, no. We’re not going to fuck in front of my eight-year-old daughter. That’s insane.”
“Why?”
“Why? Would you have wanted to watch your parents have sex when you were eight?”
Frankie thought about that for a moment, then screwed her face up in distaste. “True, watching my mum and dad thrashing around in the bedroom would have been quite horrific. But if Mum had a girlfriend, I’d probably have been into it. Sex between women is nicer, softer.”
“Sorry, are we talking about two completely different lesbians here? Me and you don’t do nice.”
“We’d tone it down a bit for Kerry. Wouldn’t want to scar her for life.”
We both fell into an uncomfortable silence. Were we actually considering this? Well, Frankie clearly was.
I tried my best to be the voice of reason. “This is crazy. We could get into big trouble. What if she told someone?”
“We’d have to make her promise not to,” said Frankie. “She’s old enough to understand the problems it could cause.”
“And what if she doesn’t want to watch us do the dirty?” I pointed out.
“She might not. If she says no, we’ll go back to the drawing board. Listen, Sarah – Kerry knows we love each other. What we do is normal and healthy. It won’t hurt her to see what it’s all about. It might be good for all of us.”
Frankie peered at me expectantly. I was on to her in a second.
“Oh my God, are you getting off on this?” I said, swatting her arm.
“Not really. A bit. I mean, it could be a lot of fun.”
I couldn’t deny that, but that’s not what it was about. It was about educating Kerry, arming her with the knowledge to defend herself against the ignorant and ill-informed.
Oh, who was I kidding? The thought of my eight-year-old daughter watching us have sex was fucking hot. I wanted it to happen as much as Frankie did. Okay, maybe not quite as much as Frankie.
“All right,” I said at last. “I’ll agree to it on two conditions: Firstly, we leave out all the dirty stuff – I don’t think Kerry needs to see us licking each other’s bumholes, and fisting is out of the question. And secondly, she just watches. No touching or making her interact or anything else.”
“Agreed,” Frankie said with a big shit-eating grin on her face.
“I hope this doesn’t backfire on us, Frankie, I really do.”
“It won’t, trust me,” my lover cooed, then kissed me tenderly on the neck. Her hand found one of my breasts and kneaded it gently. “We might as well get some practice in, then.”
We made intense love that night, grinding our pussies together until we both came several times. For myself, imagining that my daughter was watching us fuck added fuel to the fire, and I was sure Frankie was thinking the same thing.
I told myself our plan was just an unorthodox version of sex education. I told myself there was nothing morally untoward about it, that sex was natural and shouldn’t be hidden from children.
But of course, I was fooling myself, or having a fair bash at it, at least. It was really just another step down the rabbit hole. And the further down I went, the harder it would be to come back up.
On to Chapter Three!
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