Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

A quick recap of the Story Thus Far: Rural paramedic Nettie Hastings finds herself in the middle of a flurry of unexplained overdose calls and, with the help of her best friend and former lover, Terry Wilder, has begun putting clues together linking the source to her own hometown. Some suspect Terry’s involvement, including police chief George Fronse, as Terry’s ex-wife is a convicted drug trafficker. A drug raid on an abandoned meat locker goes awry, and Nettie’s father is killed in an explosion. A DEA agent named Bridgette Ramscone is brought in to work the case, and she seems to take a special interest in Nettie who, in the meantime, has entered into a clandestine affair with Terry’s preteen daughter.

For a more detailed breakdown of this story’s chapters, please consult the Chapter Links.

by Rachael Yukey

Halee and I ended up watching Top Gun, as we’d told Terry we were going to do a week prior. I brewed tea, and Halee made popcorn. Snacks and drinks in hand, we snuggled up together on the couch.

During the shirtless volleyball scene, Halee snatched up the remote and paused the movie. “Are those guys hot, do you think?”

I pursed my lips, wondering where she was going with this. “Yes, I’d say so.”

“Like, if you met them in person, maybe you’d want to have sex with them?”

“If I could’ve met Val Kilmer at that age, he’d probably have had his way with me,” I replied with a snicker.

“I don’t see that,” she said. “When I see that lady they call Charlie, I get tingly and start wondering what her boobs look like. When I see the guys, I guess I can see that they’re good looking, but it doesn’t do anything for me. Y’know?”

I squeezed her tightly. “I do know. I told you before how I had zero interest in men until I was sixteen. That’s when I figured out that I’m bi.”

“So maybe I just think I’m a lesbian, but when I get older I might realize I’m bisexual?”

“I think who you are now isn’t necessarily going to be who you are five years down the line,” I said after giving it a moment’s thought. “Right now, you’re sexually interested in girls, but not guys. So for you to say you’re a lesbian now is totally right.”

Halee thought about that for a moment. “Lesbian, subject to revision,” she said. We both cracked up.

After the movie had ended and the TV turned off, Halee and I began to gently make out. Then it was less than gentle. Soon hands were under bathrobes, fingering each other’s dripping pussies.

Halee was panting in my ear. “I want to eat you again.”

“Ever heard of sixty-nine?” I replied.

We ended up with me lying on the couch, Halee on top as we ate each other out. It felt so incredible, having my clitoris licked while my tongue was buried between her pussy lips that I came in record time, after which I flipped Halee on her back and dove between her legs.

“I liked it when you put your finger inside,” she said, shuddering and gasping as my tongue made contact with her clit.

I lifted my head. “Do you want me to try going in all the way?”

“Kind of, but I’m nervous. Do you think it’ll hurt?”

“It did for me,” I told her, “but it didn’t last long. And it was all upside after that.”

“Then I want to.”

I made her wait while I ran into my bedroom and retrieved a squirt bottle decorated with watermelon artwork.

“What’s that?” she demanded to know.

“It’s a sexual lubricant,” I explained. “It’ll make things extra slippery. I keep some around for company.”

We shared a laugh as I knelt between Halee’s legs. “What’s with the watermelon?” she asked.

“It’s flavored,” I said. “The regular stuff tastes disgusting. I tried to eat someone after using it once. It’s a mistake you will not make twice.”

I squirted some on my fingers, and rubbed it around inside her slit.

“Oooh,” she said, as my gooey fingers slid across her clitoris, “I think I like that.”

Lowering my face to her cunt, I extended my tongue and went to work. As her breath began to hitch, I slid a freshly lubed finger into her opening, just until I met resistance. I simply held it there, moving with Halee as I drove her to the heights of pleasure with my tongue.

When her orgasm hit, the now-familiar sounds issued forth, and her vagina gripped my finger, I drove it deeper with one swift thrust.

“Oof,” Halee grunted, then cried out as a second orgasm carried her away. An even stronger one, it seemed. I rode with her, a single finger deep inside, my tongue pressed against her clit.

When it was over I withdrew my finger, got myself onto the couch, and pulled her into my lap. She curled up, and I drew her close.

“You okay?” I asked, once her breathing had slowed.

“Yeah,” she said. “It didn’t really hurt… it just surprised me. And having your finger way up in there…” she giggled. “Well, you saw what happened.”

“Does it hurt now?”

“Not really. Did I bleed? I’ve heard people sometimes bleed.”

“Let me look,” I said, shifting Halee from my lap to the couch cushion. Moving her leg aside, I examined her vulva, but didn’t find any blood. “Looks hemostatic to me.”

“Hemo-whatsis?”

I chuckled. “Hemostatic. Medical term. Means it’s not bleeding.”

“Good. I was worried about ruining your couch.”

“Seriously? This couch is a turd. When I move, I’m chucking it.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “Are you moving?”

I leaned back. “Dad left me his house,” I said. “I haven’t decided yet if I want to move into it, or sell it and buy something a bit smaller. But either way, yeah, I think it’s time to get out of this apartment. And his furniture is way better than mine, so most of what I have here I’m just gonna ditch.”

She settled back into my arms. “Nettie,” she said, after a moment of silence, “you said you would hate yourself if you let this happen. I hope you don’t still feel that way.”

I hesitated before speaking. To be honest, I’d simply ceased to examine my feelings about the right and wrong of taking Halee as a lover.

“No,” I said with a shake of the head, “not anymore. I felt a little guilty at first, but you obviously want this, and I guess you’re old enough to make up your own mind.”

“Do you think Chelsey Milne is old enough?”

My head jerked forward in surprise. “Wait… why?”

Halee wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Because she made that comment about kissing girls sounding like fun. And she’s coming by for a sleepover with Naomi tomorrow night. And because ever since Naomi told us about what she said, I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“You’re attracted to her?” My mind was awash in possibilities, my body beginning to throb all over again.

Halee continued to study her hands, now twisting nervously in her lap. “Does that bother you? I mean, that I’m attracted to someone else?”

I hugged her tightly. “Jeez, no,” I said. “Even if we were an exclusive couple, people are attracted to other people sometimes. That just happens.”

Now she turned her head to face me, the corners of her mouth turning up. “Are you attracted to her?” she wanted to know. “Because I saw the way you reacted when Naomi was talking about Chelsey kissing girls.”

I grinned. “Guilty as charged, your honor.”

“So would you be upset if I, um…”

“Did something about it?” I laughed. “Seducing Chelsey: good. Not telling me every little juicy detail: bad.”

She considered that for a moment. “I know it’s a weird thing to think about,” she said, “because I’m still just a kid. I’m not sure if I’m in love with you, or even what that really means… but I do care about you a lot. I won’t do anything with anyone else if it would hurt you.”

I was so absurdly touched that I found myself fighting tears. I snuggled her even tighter, one hand wrapping around her head and pulling it to my breasts. “That means a lot to me, Halee,” I said, “but you don’t have to worry. I care about you, too, but I don’t own you. I don’t see any reason we need to be exclusive.”

She nodded slowly, her cheek grazing my nipple in a most delightful manner.

Five minutes later we were lying on our sides on the floor, faces buried in each other’s pussies. Halee was finger-fucking me with gusto; I refrained, figuring it would be better to not put anything in her vagina until she’d had a day or two to heal.

As my orgasm took me, I found myself surrendering the last vestiges of shame. This is right, I thought, as we held each other tightly in the aftermath. Nothing has ever been so right.

***

The next morning I’d scheduled a short pre-funeral visitation for anyone who had been unable to make it the previous evening. I was once again standing alongside Dad’s casket, doing my best to be gracious as people filed past.

After the first twenty minutes, foot traffic eased considerably. I was sitting alone next to the casket, watching a handful of guests mill about in the lobby. A tall, spare man with close-cropped hair just beginning to gray strode into the viewing room. He was wearing a black suit and tie, and was holding hands with a woman in her mid-thirties, an elegant lady with shoulder-length brown hair wearing a black skirt and white blouse with a black scarf draped around her neck.

The couple was followed by two lovely young women wearing somber, restrained dresses of maroon and green, with a girl in her mid-teens bringing up the rear. The woman wearing the maroon dress was as tall and dark as I am, a virtual duplicate of me except that her glasses were framed in purple instead of orange. The lady in green was short and blonde. The teen had brown hair with pink highlights, and was wearing a black dress that she looked distinctly uncomfortable in.

“Uncle Jason!” I exclaimed, hugging the man as he drew close.

It had been almost a year since I’d last seen my mom’s brother Jason Hanson, his wife Lisa, and their daughter Victoria, she of the pink-highlighted hair. More like two years since I’d seen Jason’s eldest daughter Julie, who really does look just like me, or her partner Mallory. I lived with Jason and his family for almost a year when I was ten; a horrible, traumatic time that I’ve mostly blocked out. Not through any fault of theirs, mind you. These people are probably the only reason I’m still alive.

Pushing back the half-remembered images before they took root in my mind, I gave Lisa a warm hug.

“How’re you doing, sweetie?” she murmured in my ear.

“I’m okay,” I told her, then opened my arms just in time to be attacked from both sides by Julie and Mallory. They make an odd pair; tall and short, dark and blonde, bouncy and somber. But they’ve been a couple since they were kids.

Vicky hugged me as well, a more perfunctory embrace than the others had bestowed. I understood; to her I’ve always been the much older cousin that she sees maybe twice a year or so.

“It’s good to see you, kiddo… circumstances notwithstanding,” said Jason.

“Really good,” said Julie, her smile brightening the room. “We’ve missed you.”

I reflected that Julie is the only person I know who can seem bubbly at a funeral without anyone taking offense. Cheer and enthusiasm seem to ooze from her pores.

“I’ve missed you, too,” I said. “It has been awhile.”

Jason, Lisa, and Vicky live in Dickson, almost a four-hour drive southwest. Julie and Mallory live in Colorado. Jason’s story isn’t so very different from Terry’s; he had a career in entertainment – music, in his case – which he gave up upon becoming a single father. The big difference is that Jason wasn’t as well-off as Terry, and still needed to earn money. He became a paramedic while I was staying with them. In fact, he’s the reason I got into this line of work.

Despite my best efforts, a wave of memory washed over me. Jason in his recliner, poring over the big stack of medic school textbooks I hadn’t been able to resist delving into myself. Lisa’s belly slowly blooming as Vicky grew inside her. Julie, bubbly and fun, except when she was hunched over the table absorbed in her electronics projects. Quiet Mallory, serious on the outside but with an inner strength that was apparent even at age eleven as she endured the twin struggles of breaking away from her parents’ religion and watching their marriage fall apart. It took a few months for me to realize that Julie and Mallory were a lot more than just friends.

“I didn’t know you were coming,” I said. “You guys need a place to stay?”

“Naw, we’re covered,” said Jason. “There’s this scraggy-looking motel just east of town; we’ll grab rooms there. We have to drive back first thing in the morning.”

“Oh, God,” I countered. “Please tell me you’re not staying at Milton’s.”

Lisa smiled. “It does kind of look like a good place to pick up crabs or something, doesn’t it?”

I shook my head. “Let me put you up at Dad’s place. There are, like, four bedrooms there.”

“Are you sure?” said Mallory. It was the first she’d spoken, but she’d always been the quiet one. “You’ve got a lot going on… we don’t want to be any trouble.”

“I’m very sure,” I said. “I’d love to get caught up this evening.”

More guests were approaching. Jason gave me another hug. “We’ll see you in awhile, then.”

Fifteen minutes later, Terry, Halee, and Naomi appeared, this time with Dawn in tow. That wasn’t a surprise; Terry let me know they would be there, and that little Maya would be attending the funeral but had opted out of seeing a dead person. Terry had seemed a bit apologetic about that, but I assured him that it was fine; I hate it when parents force kids into something like that.

I caught a glimpse of Maya out in the lobby, in the company of her friend Gina. Gina’s mom, Theresa, was riding herd on both girls. Theresa graduated high school with me, then married young and had Gina at the tender age of 19. I sometimes wondered what her husband would think if he knew that she had gone through an experimental phase with girls during senior year, and that she’d hooked up with me a number of times. Or that we’d hooked up behind his back maybe half a dozen times since then.

A line was beginning to form, so Terry and the girls passed by more quickly this time – spending a moment at the casket, hugging me, moving on in favor of the next person. Looking back towards the lobby again, I almost did a double take at the sight of Agent Bridgett Ramscone striding purposefully through the double doors. She walked into the chapel as if she owned the place, made her way to the end of the mercifully shortening line of humanity, and settled in to wait. I couldn’t remember ever seeing someone look so utterly relaxed, yet completely aware of their surroundings.

The two people in front of her were Dad’s sisters, and they took a bit more time than the others had. I forced myself to give them my attention, surreptitiously watching Agent Ramscone out of the corner of my eye. She seemed to be in no hurry.

Finally they moved on, and she stepped forward. There was only ten minutes to go before the funeral, and she was the last one in line.

She gazed into the casket for almost a full minute, then turned towards me. “Ms. Hastings,” she said, “I’m terribly sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” I said, inclining my head slightly.

“You may or may not have heard this yet,” she went on, “but your father died heroically. He saved the life of the very girl that you transported.”

“I just heard yesterday evening,” I informed her, “but thank you for making sure I knew.”

She gave me a secretive little smile. “We’ll talk later.” She took my hand in hers, gave it a squeeze, then turned and strode towards the lobby, leaving me wondering what in the world she thought we had to talk about.

The funeral passed easily enough, and without much of the usual bullshit. Dad had been friends with his pastor, who talked easily and humorously about him, painting a reasonably accurate portrait of the man. The graveside ceremony was marred by a chill spring rain, resulting in a thinner crowd than there otherwise might have been. As immediate family I got to stand under the awning; others were not so fortunate.

Naomi and Dawn huddled together under a single umbrella; Terry and Halee stoically endured the drizzle. On the periphery I spotted Bridgett, looking completely at ease under a large umbrella that was the same black as her clothing. I wondered if it was government issue.

The reception was held at Dad’s house, invitation only. The only people I’d invited who weren’t family or friends of my dad were Terry and his girls, because they’re the closest thing to a real support system I have, and I wanted them there.

During the reception I started to re-evaluate my almost-made decision to sell the place. It’s a beautiful, spacious house, with oak wall paneling and log beams on the ceilings. Looking around the living room, I thought that with a few carefully arranged tapestries to dampen reverberation, it was the ideal size and shape to make my audio system sing.

As the reception wound down, Uncle Jason and his brood took their leave. They’d decided to stay the night with me at Dad’s place, but had some visiting to do first.  Jason had planned to drop in on an old friend, while Julie and Mallory wanted to visit Sheriff’s Deputy Cindy Koep, who’d grown up with them in their home town.

As they departed, long-suppressed visions of my tenth year flashed through my head. Cindy Koep had been Cindy Moen then, and along with Julie and Mallory had been part of a circle that had come together to protect me from… what? I couldn’t remember.

“We’re taking you to dinner tonight,” said Jason. “No arguments, okay?”

My mom stuck around to help me clean up. She chattered animatedly about the past, and we actually managed to have a decent conversation for a change.

Finally on my own, I was lounging back in Dad’s recliner, allowing memories to wash over me, when the doorbell rang. I was startled from my reverie; who would possibly be calling? I wasn’t expecting Uncle Jason back for hours yet.

Pushing myself out of the chair with an effort, I made my way to the door. DEA Agent Bridgett Ramscone waited on the doorstep. It was the first time I’d seen her in anything other than her sensible black suit. She was wearing designer jeans that hugged her hips, cowboy boots, and a fleece-lined denim jacket. Instead of the usual bun, her hair was loose around her shoulders.

“Are you going to admire the view all afternoon, or are you going to invite me in?” she inquired.

I realized that I’d been gawking. Embarrassed, I stepped to the side, holding the door open. “Please, come in,” I said, with as much dignity as I could muster.

She stepped inside, pulled her boots off, and cast her eyes around the spacious open-concept living area. “This is beautiful,” she intoned, sounding as if she meant it.

I smiled as I gestured for her to follow me into the living room. “Dad owned the local lumber yard. He was pretty chummy with all of the contractors and got good deals on anything he wanted done for himself. He had this built after he married my stepmom. Have a seat.” I gestured towards one of the two matching recliners, seating myself in the one that had been Dad’s favorite.

“By ‘stepmom’,” she said, “you mean Tracy Hastings, maiden name Belgarde. Married your father in 2010, died in a snowmobile accident in 2018. You personally responded to the accident scene. You got her to the hospital alive, but she didn’t make it.”

I raised my eyebrows, but said nothing,

“As for the house, and the lumberyard,” she went on, “you’re now the proud owner of both. Have you decided to liquidate, or hang onto them?”

I forced my face into impassivity. “I think I might keep the house,” I said. “About the business, I’m not sure yet.”

Bridgett nodded thoughtfully. “I think it’d be tough to walk away from this house.”

I decided that I wasn’t in the mood for whatever game she was playing. “How can I help you, Agent Ramscone?”

Bridgett grimaced. It was the first expression I’d seen on her face that didn’t seem premeditated.

“I’ll level with you,” she said. “We’re coming up snake eyes on this investigation, and I’m just about out of leash. I can’t keep this many resources tied up in a nowhere place like this – no offense – for much longer. I can stretch this out another three or four days, a week at most, and I’m going to be ordered out of here, with no answers and no action taken.”

“That really sucks,” I said, “but I’m not sure what you think I can do to help.”

“First of all, you can tell me what you know about Terrance Wilder.”

So that’s how it was. “First George Fronse, now you,” I said, my tone positively acidic. “If you’re blaming Terry for any of this, I’m not buying what you’re selling. Anyway, what am I going to tell you that you don’t already know? You know exactly what I inherited from my dad, you know who my stepmom was and how she died… now you’re gonna tell me you don’t know more about Terry’s background than I do? Especially with his ex-wife’s history. I figure you’ve plowed that field pretty deep.”

Her only reaction to my tirade was a thin smile. “So you do know. My understanding from the interviews I’ve conducted over the past week is that your friend Terry is quite secretive about his past. Until now, I have yet to talk to anyone who’s aware of his ex’s criminal conviction.”

I shrugged. “So he’s private. That’s not a crime.”

She laced her hands in her lap and regarded me solemnly. “What you probably don’t know is that there were plenty of agents involved in Kathryn Wilder’s arrest who were far from convinced that Terrance was as clueless as he claimed to be. Oh, he was never brought up on charges, because there was absolutely no direct evidence to the contrary. Tell me this much: does Mr. Wilder strike you as a stupid man?”

I snorted. “Terry’s maybe the smartest person I know.”

She nodded. “I agree. Hell, it’s not even a matter of agreement, it’s an objective fact. The man has a tested IQ that makes most of us look like carrots by comparison. He ought to be in a lab somewhere curing cancer or inventing warp drive, you know?”

I found myself nodding in agreement. She wasn’t wrong.

“So you’ll forgive us if we’re a little skeptical that a man that bright lived with the top dog of a multi-million dollar international drug trafficking ring for ten years, had four children with her, and was utterly oblivious to what was going on. I’m not even suggesting that he was necessarily involved, just that he had to have at least known she was doing something illegal.”

I shrugged. “Are you suggesting he’s involved in what’s going on around here? I think that’s ridiculous. We were together on the Sam Jensen call; he was as perplexed as I was.”

Bridgett shook her head. “Honey, in my experience, most men that intelligent fall into one of two categories. They’re either socially inept and can’t get laid if their lives depend on it, or they’re… well… really scary people. Sociopaths, or worse. He might not have been as perplexed as he led you to believe.”

“Do you have any actual reason to think he’s involved, or just weird theories about how smart guys interact socially?”

“We have reason to believe there are very prominent international traffickers conducting some kind of operation in the Franklin County area. That’s how this all started. And we figure they have to be involved with what happened at the former meat locker. I can’t go into detail, but there’s a great deal of money and organization wrapped up in what was going on there.”

She sat forward. “But here’s the thing. There’s no way in hell that they pulled it off without local contacts and assistance. They set up some fairly sophisticated infrastructure to get supplies in and out, and electrical power to a facility that hasn’t been hooked to the grid in thirty years. Not to mention drawing in a number of local young people as guinea pigs without raising any red flags… until those young people started to get sick.”

“And you think Terry is part of that.”

“Not necessarily, but only because I know it’s a mistake to jump to conclusions. Do that, and your brain shuts down. A number of my agents are absolutely convinced that he’s involved. On what evidence, you might ask? It’s very simple: two of the traffickers who led us to start keeping a closer eye on this area in the first place are people who have had past dealings with Kathryn Wilder’s organization.”

I leaned my head back, gazing up at the ceiling. What she was hitting me with was a more sophisticated version of George Fronse’s paranoia. This time I wasn’t buying it even a little bit.

“If you really think Terry would help set up a drug operation in a place where his kids might be impacted, then you don’t know him,” I said at last. “Those girls are his world, and you’d know that if you saw them together. He wouldn’t put them at risk, even if he was involved in something like that.”

“Oh, I have seen them together,” Bridgett said, “but only in public settings. They look like the picture-perfect Leave it to Beaver American family, and in 2022 that by itself is kind of weird to see. The only thing missing is a mom in an apron. In private, you’d say he’s a devoted father?”

“Oh, Christ, yes,” I replied. “He spends tons of time with them, helps them with their homework, takes them places. Exactly the kind of dad mine wasn’t, to be honest. They adore him.”

“Has he said anything regarding his ex-wife’s activities that would lead one to believe he might have known what she was doing?”

“He’s barely talked about it at all,” I replied, electing not to tell her that I myself had only learned this very recently, “but he says he didn’t know. He told me that she had a lot of money invested and it was doing well, so he never questioned why she was rich. I believe him.”

A thought struck me. “Have you questioned those traffickers you were keeping an eye on? That’d probably be more useful than talking to me.”

She sighed. “Of course we have. But they’ve got themselves set up perfectly. Ordinary apartments, ordinary jobs in one of the neighboring small cities… all the outward appearances of ex-cons trying to get a fresh start. More than that, they were smart enough to not run like hell after the meat locker operation got hit. And these guys have been through the wringer enough times that being shaken down doesn’t ruffle their feathers. They’ll answer enough simple questions to look good, and then lawyer up the moment the questions get hard. And with the only evidence being their presence, the moment they say the word lawyer we pretty much have to let it go. There’s no point in continuing.”

There was a long, uncomfortable silence. Well, I was uncomfortable. Bridgett Ramscone, damn her, seemed to be perfectly at ease.

“Look,” Bridgett said at last, “you’re probably right about Terry Wilder. I admit that I’m grasping at straws here. I do think it’s a damn strange coincidence that he moved out to this backwater for no apparent reason, and then four years later some of his ex-wife’s former business associates appear in the same area and all this happens. But coincidence is all I have, and it’s not enough to condemn a man. You might as well forget I said anything.”

“It doesn’t make sense,” I said slowly, choosing my words with care. “If Terry’s as smart as you think he is, would he paint a target on his back like this? All this circumstantial stuff… yeah, it seems to point straight to him, doesn’t it? But he’d know that, wouldn’t he? I would think he’d be smart enough to not shit where he eats.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Seriously, come work for me. I could have you in a training seminar starting next week. It’s a major flaw in the argument, and it’s been bugging me, but I wouldn’t have expected a layperson to see it. And now that I think about it…” she stopped talking.

“It’s more like someone is setting it up so it looks like he might be involved,” I said.

“Yeah,” she said. “That’s what I’m thinking. It’s not even like someone is trying to take him down, just generate enough suspicion to create a distraction.” She sighed heavily and sat back. “Which of course leaves us exactly where we were before. I’m going to stretch this out for as long as I can get away with it, but by this time next week my superiors are going to order me back to Minneapolis.”

She laced her hands across her belly. “That’s as far as I can go without letting you in on confidential information. With your knack for deduction, I’d love to have you look over all of the evidence, but I’d never be able to clear it with my bosses. Forget about it.”

“Works for me,” I said, relieved to be done playing question-and-answer.

But Bridgett Ramscone wasn’t anywhere near finished. “So instead,” she murmured, ”let’s talk about your relationship with Halee Wilder.”

On to Chapter Fourteen!

by kinkys_sis and kinkychic

When I open my eyes I can see this girl staring back at me. She’s sexy as fuck. The few clothes she’s still wearing are in total disarray, and her panties are exposed.

I lie there looking. I want to touch her but I’m scared she’ll run away. My eyes try to focus on those tiny panties and what they hide. Oh my God, she’s so hot lying in front of me like that!

My senses are becoming aroused. What would she do if I touched myself right now? I reach my hand downwards. She copies my movements. So she wants to play as well.

I watch her hand disappear into the top of her panties. I can see the bulge of her knuckles moving through the thin material, right where her pussy would be.

My fingers separate my labia. It feels so good when they slide into the warm, slippery wetness.

The girl is watching me, just as I’m watching her. She has a silly grin, but I don’t care because she’s fucking herself in front of me and that’s all that matters right now. I delve deeper, moving my fingers faster and faster, fascinated as she does the same.

My phone’s lying next to me on the floor. I wonder if she would let me take a picture of her. I’ll go slowly. She’ll see what I’m doing, and if she wants to stop me she can. She’s so into playing with herself maybe she won’t even notice.

I switch to the camera. It’s tricky trying to do it one-handed but I have no intention of taking my other hand out of my knickers. I keep the phone low, resting it on the floor, then click. She doesn’t seem to care. She’s too busy with her own pussy. This is so fucking hot.

My panties are becoming a nuisance so I push them down. So much better.

She takes hers off too. Her hand is poised at a slight angle above her pussy, like she wants to give me the clearest view possible. Two of her fingers are pumping in and out. I can see the way she glistens as she spreads her juices everywhere.

My phone clicks again. I hope I’ve caught the spread of her pussy lips and the way her clit pokes into view.

I reach for my own clit, rolling it between two fingers, the sensations causing me to close my eyes. I force them open again. I don’t want to stop looking at her.

I’m close to coming. She looks like she’s ready too. I want us to watch each other as we climax. Somehow I manage to click the camera once more, capturing her as she reaches orgasm.

We both lay there on the floor breathing heavily, gazing at one another’s spent bodies. When I smile, so does the girl in the large swivel mirror. I’ve always liked watching myself masturbate.

I’m stiff and cold. I don’t know how I ended up on the floor. I drank so much last night. There’s always a price to pay for that the next morning.

Slowly I get to my knees and lean against the bed to let the nausea pass. I don’t want to be on the floor anymore – it’s cold and hard, but my bed is warm and soft.

I manage to crawl beneath the duvet. I still have my clothes on, but I’ll worry about that later.

When I close my eyes the room spins.

I still feel horny.

I can’t help thinking about Jess.

***

It’d been a couple of weeks ago when I’d last visited my older sister. She’d gone out with friends and I was asked to look after Jess, my twelve-year-old niece. At eighteen, I was closer in age to my niece than I was my sister, and the two of us always had fun spending time with each other.

That particular day we played on her Xbox. Jess was so much better than me at video games, but in my defence, I had been a bit distracted.

Jess had a carefree way of lying on her tummy as she played. She would swing her legs about in excitement, her short skirt riding up and giving me constant views of her panty-clad arse from my place on her bed. At first it didn’t particularly register, but after a while I found myself sneaking a peek at her flashing knickers whenever I could.

Things didn’t improve when we went downstairs to have a bite of lunch. Jess sat cross-legged opposite me on the sofa, skirt rucked up round her waist.. She seemed oblivious to the display she was treating me to, but I was more than aware. I thought I could even see a little damp patch directly in the middle of her crotch.

I was unnerved to realise I was actually getting turned on by a twelve-year-old girl, and my own niece at that.

I took a bite of my sandwich and glanced up at Jess. She had a little smirk on her face, eyes sparkling mischievously. Did she know what she was doing to me? Was she doing it on purpose?

I felt myself flush, and looked away guiltily.

“What’s up, Becks?” my niece cooed. “I thought you enjoyed looking. You’ve been doing it all morning, after all.”

“W-what?” I stammered. “I wasn’t—”

Jess cut me off. “It doesn’t bother me, actually. I mean, my sexy auntie can’t stop herself looking up my skirt? How cool is that?”

I had no idea how to respond. I knew it was my job to take control of the situation but I simply wasn’t prepared for a scenario like this. I just couldn’t stop blushing. I began to wish my sister would hurry up and come home so I could get out of there.

Jess touched the front of her panties. “Oops, I got a bit wet down there. Must be ’cause you were looking. I bet you’re wet, as well, after staring at my knicks all afternoon.” She began brushing her fingers across the damp patch.

I was frozen to the spot, unable to speak or move. My eyes were locked onto her fingers as she rubbed herself, unable to look away. How the fuck was I being seduced by my twelve-year-old niece?

Her voice had lost some of its playfulness when she said to me, “Why don’t you do what I’m doing? I know you want to, I can see it in your face. I’d like it if you did.”

Still in a daze, I felt my hands pulling up my skirt. The tip of Jess’s tongue was trapped between her lips in anticipation, like she was about to unwrap a birthday present. I saw her eyes go wide when my panties came into view, and she began rubbing herself faster. The damp spot on her own knickers was getting bigger, but who was I to judge? – mine were soaked through as well. Without thinking, I eased the crotch aside and went straight for my pussy.

Jess let out a delighted gasp, then pulled her own knickers to one side.

A surge of lust washed over me at the sight of that gorgeous tight slit. “Open your pussy for me, Jess. I want to see inside,” I heard myself say as I spread my labia apart. “Look, like this.”

She gave another gasp, then her face lit up with a huge grin. She dipped two fingers inside her firm lips and prised them open. I could see deep inside now, the dark prick of her pee hole, the little pink swell of her clitoris.

I brought two fingers up to my own nub. “Rub yourself here, just like I’m doing.”

Now we were both strumming away keenly. I knew this must be a spot she’d never considered before, judging by the look of total surprise on her face. That look soon gave way to intense concentration as her eyes shuttered to mere slits, not quite closed but almost.

“Have you made yourself come before, Jess?” I asked, unsure if she’d know what I meant.

“I… I think so, kinda, just a bit,” she replied absentmindedly. “I’ll probably know in a minute. I never felt like this before.”

A faint voice in the back of my mind had another go at persuading me to stop this madness. What the fuck are you doing? How could you let this happen? I really should have listened to that voice, but I don’t think I was capable of stopping, even if I’d wanted to.

Jess was rubbing herself furiously, suddenly going stiff. Her legs pistoned off the edge of the sofa, hips bucking wildly. “Becks!” she wailed. “It… it’s happening!”

I’d never seen anything so fucking sexy in all my life. Just watching my twelve-year-old niece in the throes of a bonafide orgasm right in front of me was enough to tip me over the edge. Both of us had our eyes glued to each other’s pussy as we climaxed together.

I’d always had doubts that squirting was a real phenomenon, that it was anything more than porn movie theatrics or the product of overenthusiastic writers. But now I was witness to distinct little spurts from Jess as she came, the fluid trickling down her legs and onto the sofa.

She sat there exhausted, chest heaving, hand still clamped between her thighs. I got up and approached the couch, covering her hand with mine as I knelt on the floor. My other hand caressed her cheek. “Hey, clever girl. That was so hot. Did that ever happen to you before?”

Jess shook her head. “Not like that.”

“Okay. If you were in any doubt – that was definitely an orgasm.”

She gave me a big grin. “You’ve always been my favourite aunt. But now you’re even more special!”

The two of us laughed together. “We just shared something pretty amazing. I’m not sure we should have, but we did.” I leaned into her, sweeping the hair from her face. “Would you mind if I gave you a little kiss, just to kind of seal the deal?”

Jess sat up straight, her hands coming to rest upon my shoulders. “You really want to kiss me? Oh my God, yes please!”

Her lips smacked against mine enthusiastically. It was pretty awkward as kisses went, but it was also completely wonderful. When we’d finished, Jess clung to me tightly. “Becks, you’re amazing!”

I untangled myself and rose to my feet. “I think we’ve got a little cleaning up to do before your mum gets home,” I said, gesturing at the wet patch on the sofa.

She suddenly became aware of the mess she’d made. A hand went to her mouth in horror. “Oh, God, did I pee? I’m so sorry!”

“What on earth are you apologising for?” I asked with a chuckle. “It was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

***

I’m still aroused. I can’t sleep. I remember the pics I took of myself and pick my phone up to scroll through them. They’re fucking hot, if I do say so – sorta nasty and slutty.

A drunken thought enters my head before I can stop it: I bet Jess would like to see them.

I have her number.

I compose a chaotic, badly spelt message that ends with, Don’t forget to delete, will you? After hesitating a moment, then deciding it’s definitely a brilliant idea to send my twelve-year-old niece pictures of her aunt masturbating, I press send. There. Done.

Somehow I manage to set my alarm, then sleep finally takes me.

When it goes off several hours later I nearly smash it to bits as it rattles my brain with its awful noise. I lay there holding my head. Never again.

My phone pings. “Fuck off…” I groan, but pick it up anyway to see who’s texting me at this time of the morning.

It’s from Jess.

My heart skips, then sinks a little. I’ve just remembered what I sent her last night. “Oh, Christ.”

The message simply reads: WOW! XXXXXXX, but there’s an attachment with it. I open it up and find myself gawping at a close-up of my niece’s pussy. Before I can fully absorb this, my phone pings again.

I’m all warm down there thinking about you XXXXX.

Suddenly the phone rings, making me jump out of my skin. I feel a surge of guilty panic, but then see the caller is Jess. “Hi, sexy,” I tell her, the words out of my mouth before I can stop them. “I like your pic.”

“I like yours too,” she replies. “I wanted to ask you something, Becks.”

“Hmm?”

“When we were watching each other that day, did you… did you want to touch me?”

I hesitate before answering. We’d just been looking. That’s all it was – looking. But the line was thin and it would be so easy to cross. Why pretend otherwise?

“Yeah. I did. Would you have let me, Jess? Would you have wanted me to?”

“I never thought about it before that day,” she tells me earnestly. “But I’m thinking about it a lot now. I’d definitely let you. I keep looking at your pics and wondering what it’d be like to touch you, and have you touching me the same way.” A short pause on the end of the line. “Do you think we might… Are we gonna do that?”

“I think we might.” We shouldn’t, though. God knows, we shouldn’t. “Fuck… I really do want to touch you, Jess.”

Ten minutes later I’m in the shower trying to wash my hangover and arousal away. Ten minutes after that I’m beginning to feel I’ve arrived back in the real world. Down in the kitchen I drink coffee and nibble on a piece of toast.

***

Two weeks later, and I still hadn’t found an opportunity to get together with Jess – at least not when her mum wasn’t around – but we’d exchanged a few more pics. She loved to capture herself fucking her pussy and pulling her little clit. I still hoped we’d find the time to be alone one day, but I was content with the picture sharing, and at least I’d managed to bury my feelings of guilt.

I was in my room scrolling through the pics of Jess again – and thinking about sticking a hand down my panties – when the door swung open and in marched my eleven-year-old sister Lucy. The little shit hadn’t bothered to knock, and she was well aware I didn’t allow that. I quickly clicked my phone screen off. “What the fuck, Luce! You’re supposed to knock.”

“Yeah, I know,” she replied haughtily. “But it’s important, and I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Cheeky little bitch. I was about to tell her to piss off, but she stuck her hands on her hips and gave me a devious smirk. “You and me are gonna play a game. First, you’re gonna show me your pussy. And that’s just for starters!”

I couldn’t believe what I’d just heard. I sat there with my mouth hung open for a moment before I managed to find some words. “Now you really can fuck off, and be quick about it! Go! Now!”

My brat of a sister just stood there smirking at me. “Nope. You’re gonna show me. Then you’re gonna look at mine. And I’m not going anywhere until you agree.”

I was dumbfounded. What the hell had come over her? She’d always been an obnoxious little squirt, but to burst into my room and say something like that to me… I had no idea what to make of it. I hadn’t even considered that she might be interested in sex yet. And who taught her to use the word pussy?

I looked her over, trying to make sense of the situation. Maybe the pictures of Jess, and the thought of masturbating to them, had suddenly caused me to see my younger sister in a new light. It came as quite a surprise. I couldn’t find a chance to get together with Jess, but maybe…

Lucy was gorgeous, actually, but that wasn’t the point. There was no way she was talking to me like that. “You wanna tell me why you think you can speak to me that way? Why don’t you go and play with your teddy or something?”

Lucy’s grin grew inexplicably wider. “Actually, Teddy does feel nice to play with. He knows what I want. Now you’re gonna know, too.”

She’s gone completely mental, I thought, but before I could reply she pulled out her phone. “Maybe I should show you these before you say anything else.”

Everything became clear in an instant.

The pics! Of course. Jess must have sent Lucy my pics. The two of them were aunt and niece, but being almost the same age, they were more like best friends. And best friends shared everything.

I’d just lost all my bargaining chips in one fell swoop. My stomach lurched. This was a nightmare.

“Don’t look so worried, sis,” Lucy chuckled gleefully, scrolling through the pics of me and Jess while I looked on in horror. “This is gonna be fun! Nobody else has to see them. Well… not if you do as I say. Think about it like this: If you like Jess’s pussy so much, you’ll probably like mine too, won’t you? And my pussy’s much easier to get at. Sorta… closer to home, y’know?”

I was caught in her trap and we both knew it. My little sister was telling me she wanted us to have sex – demanding it, in fact – and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.

Resigned to my fate, I let my eyes travel down her body again, and felt an all-too familiar tingle between my legs. Despite the uncomfortable situation I found myself in, or maybe because of it, I was actually beginning to get turned on, considering my sister sexually for the first time. It’s not as if I had much of a choice.

Lucy must have seen something change in my expression. She slowly began to lift her skirt. The first glimpse of her panties came into view, then more of them were revealed as she raised her skirt even higher, holding the hem with one hand while the other grasped the waistband of her knickers and tugged them down her legs.

I held my breath as my sister’s mound came into view, a few wispy hairs sprinkled on otherwise bare skin, a neat little slit intersecting each beautiful segment of labia. When her panties fell to her ankles she stepped out of them, spreading her feet apart a little so I could see clearly.

I looked up to see her confident grin had faltered somewhat. There was vulnerability there now, as if she was seeking my approval. As if she were saying, Please like me, sis.

“Luce…” I murmured, my anger at her intrusion and subsequent blackmailing all but forgotten. “It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

Her smile returned. “So… now it’s your turn, okay? Just like you did with Jess.”

I stood up and twisted my skirt round so I could undo the fastener. It fell to the floor and I stepped out of it. As I reached for my skimpy panties Lucy stopped me. “No, wait. Do a spin for me! I wanna see how sexy you look.”

Feeling a bit embarrassed, I did as she asked, turning slowly on my heels until she cried, “Stop!”

I peered over my shoulder and saw her ogling my arse. “Wow. Jess was right – you do have the sexiest bum.” She was gently rubbing her pussy lips, teasing at them with the tips of her fingers. “Okay, keep facing that way and take your panties off.”

She’s got an arse fixation, I thought. A flush of excitement pulsed through me at the thought. I bent forward as I lowered my knickers, deliberately keeping hold of them all the way down to my ankles. If she wanted to see my bum, that’s exactly what the conniving little imp was gonna get.

I heard her gasp and knew she could see my arsehole, and most likely the lips of my pussy too. I was kind of getting into this now, content to just stand there for a while, bent over at the hips. “You like?”

I caught sight of her through my legs. Her fingers had slipped inside her pussy lips and were rubbing more urgently now.

“Can I stand up now, Luce? The blood’s rushing to my head.”

Lucy grunted some sound of affirmation, and as I straightened I lifted my top over my head in one swift movement. When I turned back to her I was naked and horny as fuck. The look of complete awe on my sister’s face pleased me. She didn’t seem to know where to look first, her eyes roving from my pussy to my tits and then back again.

“Okay, little sis,” I said. “You started this game. Now it’s time to let me see you.”

Lucy peered down at herself shyly. “I don’t have boobs like you do, though… only small ones. You probably won’t like them.”

I gave her a chuckle. “Trust me, I absolutely love little budding titties. Come on, show me.”

She pulled her t-shirt over her head and then stood awkwardly, that worried look back again.

I walked towards her. “Luce, they’re fucking divine.” My hands enclosed the soft peaks. They were bigger than I’d expected; I was surprised she hadn’t started wearing a training bra. She stood there still while I touched them, peering down at my fingers as they brushed back and forth. “Why don’t you feel mine too, baby sis?” I cooed.

She brought her hands to my chest, tentatively placing them on my bigger breasts. I let her touch and explore at her own pace while I watched her nipples awaken, my fingers encouraging them to stiffen and grow. Her titties reminded me of little pointed cones.

Then she was pinching and flicking at my own stiffening nipples. “Shall we… do you want to kiss me?” I asked her.

She gazed into my eyes, then gave a little nod. Ever so slowly, I drew closer, my eyes never leaving hers. We let our lips brush lightly together, before pulling away for a brief moment. Lucy leaned towards me as my arms encircled her, pulling her into my embrace. Our lips came together a second time. It was a better kiss than the one I’d had with Jess. I wondered if she’d been practising with someone.

I let myself drown in my sister’s kiss, surrendering to my growing lust. I grasped her bum with both hands, pulling her hard against my naked body, lifting her up so her pussy was adjacent to mine, nipples brushing against my breasts. And then my hips were moving, our mounds rubbing, grinding together.

I could feel Lucy’s chest starting to heave as she clutched at my back. Her fingers snaked down and settled on my arse, and it was just too much for me – I had to have her. Breaking the kiss, I lowered my sister to the floor and crooned, “Come over here.”

I lay down on my bed, pulling Lucy with me. For a while we just lay there facing one another. “I kinda think you just stitched me up, little sister, but I’m glad you did. Now lay back. I’m gonna give you what you want.”

She did as I asked. I gave her another kiss before nuzzling my way down her neck, then further still until I reached her barely-there breasts. Lucy peered down at me as my lips enclosed a nipple, her mouth forming an ecstatic O. She gave a little shiver when I touched her pussy, tracing a path round its tightly shaped contours with my finger.

I carefully eased my way inside her, and for the first time I was exploring a pussy that wasn’t my own. The fact that it was my sister’s pussy made the deed all the more exciting. I felt her legs moving apart for me. When I glanced down I saw how wet she was, her need clearly as great as mine.

As my finger probed the tight hole, Lucy’s breathing took on a more laboured note and she began to wriggle about. I took her other nipple into my mouth, and she grasped at my hair, little keening noises emerging from her lips. I glanced up at her. It was plain to see she was enjoying every second of this.

When my thumb found her clitoris and brought it to life, Lucy gave a squeal of delight, her hips pushing up to meet my hand, desperate for the heightened contact.

Suddenly I realised I wanted her clit between my lips.

Not knowing what I intended, Lucy tried to stop me pulling away from her chest. On my way down, I kissed her tummy but didn’t linger. I couldn’t wait any longer.

I stretched out between her thighs, hesitating a moment. Everything we’d done so far could perhaps be forgiven as simply fooling around. Going down on my own little sister, though, had an undeniable finality to it. I wouldn’t be able to take it back.

But the sight of her glistening pink clit peeking out at me was too hard to resist. I finally trapped it between my lips. Lucy responded with a gasp that trailed off into a moan. I gently kissed the little nub, then followed that with a flick of the tongue. God, she tasted delicious – a clean, refined tang that fed my lust, yet still left me wanting more.

While I sucked her clit, I slipped another finger into her pussy, then began to work them in and out. I fucked her soft and slow at first, her juices and my saliva lubricating the tight hole.

“B-Becks…” Lucy murmured. “I… I think I’m gonna come…”

I mumbled a reply into her pussy. “I know you are, love. I want to see.”

Her hips jerked, thighs gripping my head as she lifted her knees. Then she was still for a brief moment, body pressed against mine, the tremors becoming stronger as she came. I fucked faster and licked harder as Lucy’s frantic wails filled the bedroom.

I was ecstatic. It was hard to believe an eleven-year-old could ever come so intensely, and it was me – her big sister – who’d made her do it. She was gasping for breath, her body limp.

I moved up and kissed her on the cheek. “Happy, now that you got what you wanted?”

Lucy was smiling at me, little tears teasing the corners of her eyes. I kissed them away and she whispered with trembling lips, “I didn’t know it would be so amazing.” She took my face in her hands. “I’m sorry for being such a brat, Becks. I thought about just asking, but I knew you’d get angry and say no, so I used the pics you sent Jess to make you do what I wanted. Do you hate me?”

I kissed her again, this time on the mouth. “How could I possibly hate you? Yeah, I suppose I should be bloody livid that you tried blackmailing me, but, well… I’m not, okay?”

Lucy looked incredibly relieved to hear that. “Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer.”

“Sure, okay.”

“Have you been with many girls? You seem to know what you’re doing.”

“Would you believe me if I told you that you’re the first girl I’ve properly been with?”

That seemed to surprise her. “Really? Well, if I’m your first, you did an awesome job. I never made myself come like that, ever.” As an afterthought she added, “I suppose you’re my first, too.”

“I suppose so,” I agreed.

I decided it was okay I’d sent those pics after all, but reminded myself they still needed to be deleted – from my phone and Jess’s.

Jess… I wonder how she’d feel about Lucy and me. Not jealous, hopefully. She’d be coming over for a sleepover at the weekend, so the three of us could discuss it then.

I get the feeling we won’t be doing much talking, I thought.

The End

by Karin Halle

A few months after Dana and her fourteen-year-old daughter Jolie became lovers, they met a girl named Monica.

It was a Saturday afternoon, and they were in a supermarket shopping for groceries. Jolie was pushing their trolley when, as they turned into the next aisle, a trolley coming fast in the opposite direction crashed into theirs.

A girl who looked to be about Jolie’s age was pushing the other trolley – in fact, she was hanging on the back of it and propelling it along like a scooter.

Dana was irked, but the girl and the woman who was with her both began apologising for the collision. In the meantime, Jolie was giggling. To her, it was all in good fun.

The woman glared at her daughter. “Honestly, Monica… I’ve asked you before not to tool around the store like that. What if you knocked someone over?”

“Sorry, Mum,” the girl meekly replied, She turned to Dana. “I’m very sorry, ma’am. That was careless of me.”

“Oh, no harm done,” Dana replied, charmed by Monica’s good manners.

By then, Jolie was tugging at the girl’s sleeve. She was anxious to make her acquaintance, noticing that the girl was like her in some ways. They were both close to the same height, about average for girls of fourteen, with thick, dark hair. But their figures were quite different. Jolie had a curvy shape and a narrow waist that emphasised her already generous bust, while this stranger was slim to the point of being skinny. Her short skirt revealed a pretty pair of legs, and Jolie found herself wondering about the parts of the girl’s body she couldn’t see.

She introduced herself. “My name is Jolie. I’m fourteen, this is my mummy, and we’re shopping for groceries,” she said in the sing-song voice she mostly used with strangers. “So, um, you’re name’s Momica, huh?”

Studying Jolie for a couple of heartbeats, the girl replied, “Well, you’re pretty close. It’s Monica, actually. This is my mum, and we’re getting groceries too.”

Dana was quick to notice that the girl seemed to be speaking far more clearly and carefully when she talked to Jolie. Intrigued, she turned to Monica’s mother, who clearly had questions of her own.

Deciding an explanation was in order, Dana told the woman about Jolie and her head injury, how it had left her daughter with the mental capacity of an eight-year-old.

“Jolie is the light of my life, though,” Dana continued, watching the girls as they got to know one another. “It’s true that she’ll never really be a grownup… but she’s the sweetest, most lovable little girl you can imagine. Oh, by the way, I’m Dana.”

“I’m Abby,” the woman replied, smiling as she extended a hand. “Nice to meet you. I see what you mean about Jolie – she seems quite the charmer!”

Glancing again at the girls, who were engaged in an animated conversation, Dana said, “They seem to be getting on quite nicely, I must say. Does your daughter have experience with special needs kids?”

“She does, yes,” said Abby. “Monica does volunteer work at a school for special children. She got into it as an elective subject that earned her extra credits at school, then decided she liked the job. The children she helps are much littler than yours, though – they’re mostly seven or younger.”

It was already evident to both parents that the girls had already developed a great rapport. Jolie was happy to have someone her own age talking to her on a level she could relate to. In turn, Monica found it to be an interesting change of pace, interacting with someone with special needs who was close to her age.

After a few minutes, Abby said, “Girls, I’m sorry to break this up… but we really do need to get on with our shopping.”

Jolie had other ideas. “Can Monica and I be friends? Can we, Mummy? Please?”

Monica nodded. “I’d like that.” She and Jolie exchanged big smiles.

That seemed to settle things. Abby and Dana swapped contact details and went their respective ways. By the time Jolie and Dana had joined a queue at the checkout, Abby and Monica had finished shopping and were passing by the entrance of the supermarket.

“Hi, Monica!” Jolie called out, waving energetically.

Monica turned, smiled and waved back.

Dana had no idea if they would ever hear from Abby or Monica again, but it hardly mattered because minutes after arriving home from the store, Jolie insisted that she be allowed to telephone her new friend. Dana tried to put her off, telling her daughter she oughtn’t to call Monica so soon after they’d first met, but Jolie was not to be dissuaded. At last, Dana reluctantly called the number Abby had given her.

When Abby answered, Jolie was right there at Dana’s shoulder, pleading, “Ask if Monica can come over to play. Please, Mummy, please?”

“Hold on, Dana. Let me talk to Monica,” Abby replied.

On her end, Dana heard Abby call out to her daughter, then ask Monica if she would like to visit the girl she’d just met in the supermarket. With no idea how Monica would respond, Dana was delighted to hear Monica say, “Sure, I’d love to!”’

Now that a get-together had been agreed upon, the two mothers worked out the details, It was decided that Abby would bring Monica over the following afternoon. Jolie was thrilled, and so, it seemed, was Monica.

***

Visits on Sunday afternoons became a regular occurrence – usually at Jolie’s house, but sometimes at Monica’s place. During these visits, Abby and Dana would sit and chat or sometimes go out for coffee. As for the girls, they chatted on the telephone nearly every day when they weren’t hanging out together.

Before long, Monica began to treat their visits as an opportunity to encourage Jolie’s mental development. It was no easy task, but she made Jolie a special project of her own. She set little lessons for her friend and worked with her to complete them. Jolie responded with enthusiasm, and over time it was evident that her capabilities had expanded, even if only a little. The girls were thrilled by the progress Jolie had made, and Dana was delighted as well.

As the girls grew closer, Jolie found herself wishing there was something she could teach Monica in return. While lying in bed one night, it occurred to Jolie what that something might be. After that, she was counting the minutes until they were able to spend time together.

That weekend, the girls were in Monica’s room, going through a story together, Monica helping Jolie with the big words she didn’t understand.

They were sitting side by side when Jolie said, “Monica?”

As Monica turned to her, Jolie leaned forward and gave the girl a kiss.

By then, Monica understood that the relationship she and Jolie had ran deeper than simply being friends, but she’d never given it much thought beyond that. All she knew was that Jolie was very, very special to her.

Jolie’s kiss was tentative; a question, an invitation.

Monica’s response was immediate. A wave of desire rolled through the girl that left her warm all over, lightheaded and eager to be kissed again.

Monica had little to no experience in dealing with sexual urges. Boys close to her own age were of no interest – so immature, practically all of them. She expected to find love with a man one day, perhaps after university… certainly not in the immediate future.

On the rare occasions when Monica felt the need to pleasure herself, she never fantasised about specific males, or even sexual acts. Instead, she would picture herself strolling through a flower garden at twilight with a tall, handsome man in a turtleneck sweater… or recall a teenage boy she’d seen who had gorgeous orange hair that put her in mind of a sunset. The idea of lying naked in the arms of a man seemed distant to her, with no relevance to her everyday life.

Now, though… Monica felt something new, something unexpected. And she wanted more.

Jolie had cautiously initiated the kiss… and now Monica returned it with a passion that shook her to the core. My gosh, she told herself, I’m in love. I love Jolie!

She’d never thought of herself as someone who could love another girl. But now she did… and it made perfect sense, especially with her sweet, beautiful friend. She wrapped both arms around Jolie. This feels so good. So right.

As for Jolie, she was beside herself with joy. She instinctively sensed that, unlike herself, Monica was inexperienced at playing loving games. This was her opportunity to be the instructor, to teach the teacher.

They kissed again. This time, Jolie parted her lips, allowing the tip of her tongue to trace the outline of Monica’s mouth. With only an instant’s hesitation, Monica responded, and their tender kiss soon grew deep and passionate.

Jolie’s hand blindly found the front of Monica’s top. Cupping her friend’s small but flawless breast, she gave it a playful squeeze, then tweaked the nipple.

Monica gasped, already wondering, How did she learn these things? Did another girl teach her?

Jolie’s hand slipped beneath her t-shirt, then into the cup of her bra. And with that, Monica was barely able to think at all.

It felt lovely, so much nicer than her own infrequent bouts of masturbation… especially when Jolie’s soft, warm lips brushed her neck.

“Oh,” Monica whimpered. “Oh.”

Suddenly she found herself wanting very much to take her clothes off, every stitch. More than that, she longed for her friend to be naked, too. Monica had only vague ideas about what girls did when they had sex, but she wanted to explore Jolie’s body, and for Jolie to explore hers.

As if Jolie could read Monica’s mind, she declared, “This’ll be lots better if we don’t have any clothes on.”

“Oh, okay,” Monica said and eagerly began to undress.

Delighted that her friend seemed so willing to play loving games, Jolie quickly shed her clothes too.

Now completely naked, her heart pounding, Monica turned to face Jolie. “Wh-what now?” she stammered. Oh, God. I have no idea what I’m supposed to do.

“We’re gonna play loving games!” Jolie exclaimed, all but bouncing up and down in her excitement. “First, I kiss you and touch you and lick you – all over!” She giggled. “Then, if you want to, you can do that to me.”

“Oh, wow…” Monica whispered, marvelling at how her friend managed to say such erotic things, yet make them seem innocent as a round of hopscotch. This thought vanished into the ether when Jolie’s mouth closed over her hard nipple. She moaned, cradling the girl’s face to her chest.

The thought of taking her time didn’t occur to Jolie, eager as she was to give Monica the good feelings. She let her hand trail down the girl’s body until it rested on her vulva, surprised to find it bare. How come? she asked herself. Me and Mummy both have hair down there.

Putting that thought to one side, she returned to the task at hand, easing a finger between Monica’s labia. Jolie cooed with delight to find that her friend had the wetness down there – the good kind that means you’re ready to have special feelings.

Jolie parted Monica’s labia, putting a finger to the entrance to her… What is it? Vagina, that’s the word. She carefully penetrated Monica until her fingertip touched the teen’s hymen, then quickly withdrew.

When Jolie’s virginity had been taken by her mum, the pain had been very slight, but she was unwilling to do anything that might hurt the girl she loved.

Instead, she stroked Monica’s slit until she found the little button that made the best feelings happen. Using the tip of her index finger, she gave it a feather-light caress, the same way Mummy touched hers.

“Oooohh… fuck!” Monica gasped.

Jolie broke into a huge grin. “That’s right – fuck,” she said, then giggled. “It’s what you’re s’posed to say when I do this.” She gave her friend’s clitoris a light tweak between finger and thumb.

That sent Monica into freefall, a strangled cry exploding from her lips.

I did it! Jolie exulted, working her fingertip around in tiny circles, driving Monica into a helpless tizzy. I made her have the feeling!

Tingling all over in response to the first orgasm she hadn’t given herself, Monica gave her head a little shake to clear it. She’d never experienced anything like it. But her friend wasn’t done yet. Once Monica began to catch her breath, Jolie began to lick her down there, bathing Monica’s vaginal opening with long, eager swipes of the tongue.

Within seconds Monica was coming again, something she’d never experienced before. It was lovely, but soon her vulva grew too tender, and she gasped, “Okay, Jolie, you c-can stop now.”

Jolie was ecstatic, delighted that she’d made her friend feel good. Monica’s wetness coated her lips, and it tasted wonderful. Maybe even better than Mum’s.

Once she’d recovered her breath, Monica looked up at Jolie. “I want to touch you now.”

“That’s nice, Mon. Real nice. I’d like that a lot.”

“Um, I don’t think I’m quite ready to, uh, lick you just yet, though. Is that okay?”

Jolie hugged her friend. “Whatever you want to do to me, do that.” She was already happy, but then Monica said something that made her even happier – proud, even.

“I’ve never done it before, so I won’t be as good at it as you are…”

Rolling onto her back, Jolie parted her thighs expectantly. “It’ll be good, Mon, I know it will. Don’t worry, I’ll love it. You’ll see!”

Monica reached out, placing a hand on Jolie’s thigh, then began to caress her. She was hesitant at first, but soon her excitement began to mount as the girl responded to her touch. When she lightly rolled Jolie’s nipple between her finger and thumb, it quickly stiffened, and her friend said, “You can do that harder… I like how it feels.”

Growing increasingly confident, Monica began to explore her new lover’s body in earnest, touching her legs, her breasts, her tummy.

Finally she’d worked up the nerve to touch Jolie’s pussy, and was rewarded by an ecstatic moan, followed by, “I love you, Monica,”

“I – I love you too!” Monica exclaimed, her heart pounding as she realised the truth of those words.

She continued to stroke Jolie’s slit with her index finger, and while the girl was humming happily, she soon sat up, opening her eyes. “In me, Mon. Put your finger in my… in my hole.”

Holding her breath, Monica carefully penetrated Jolie, surprised by how easily her friend’s vagina accepted her finger. My gosh, I’m touching inside her body! It was warm, snug, and slick with fluid.

“G-go in and out,” Jolie moaned. “That’s how you do sex.”

Monica did as Jolie asked, moving slowly, but increasing her tempo as the girl nodded her approval. Then Jolie said that word. “Fuck.”

In response, Monica worked her finger even deeper inside. She felt her eyes grow misty, overwhelmed by how beautiful it felt to make love to her best friend.

“Fuck,” Jolie repeated. Then her body went stiff before she began to shake helplessly, staring wide-eyed at Monica as she came, finally going slack with a deep sign.

Jolie lay quietly for a long moment, then blindly reached out for her friend.

Monica crawled into Jolie’s arms and they nestled together, whispering words of devotion as they basked in the aftermath of their lovemaking.

***

In the days that followed, then girls made love every chance they got. Monica went down on Jolie the next time they got together, and quickly decided that she loved eating pussy. Jolie then taught her the rest of what she and her mum had learned and explored as secret lovers – sixty-nining, tribbing, analingus.

Monica still had no idea how Jolie had come by her sexual expertise. She’d asked about it once, but Jolie simply shrugged and replied, “I just know.”

Two weeks after their first time together, the girls were naked and cuddling in Jolie’s bed, resting from a particularly frenzied bout of sex play.

Placing a kiss on Monica’s nose, Jolie said, “I wanna tell Mum ‘bout us being in love.”

Monica thought about it, then slowly nodded. “I guess you’re right. I don’t want to keep it secret anymore, either. So. she’ll be okay with it, right?”

“Mum? Oh, yeah, she’ll be fine.” Pushing the sheet aside, Jolie stood, then extended a hand. “C’mon, let’s go tell her now.”

Getting to her feet, Monica took Jolie’s hand – then froze as her friend led her toward the door. “Wait, wait a minute!” she exclaimed. “Aren’t we going to put our clothes back on?”

“Why?” Jolie asked. “We’re telling her me an’ you are lovers, right? This way she’ll know for sure!”

“Um, I don’t know about this… I get telling her we’re in love, but is she supposed to know that we’re having sex, too?”

“It’s ‘loving games’, Mon – that’s what I call it. And yeah, she should know!” Jolie insisted. “She won’t be mad, cross my heart! C’mon, let’s go!” She tugged at Monica’s hand.

“I feel weird about not wearing anything, though,” Monica protested. “Couldn’t we go in our underwear, at least?”

Jolie responded with a beseeching look. “But we need to not be wearing anything. It’s really, really important! Please, Mon? Pretty please with gumdrops on top?”

“Okay, okay,” Monica answered. “But only because I love you so much.” She told herself that after all, in view of what they were about to tell Dana, their nudity wasn’t a big deal. That didn’t stop her from feeling jittery, though.

Two minutes later, the girls were standing at the door of Dana’s study. Jolie reached up to knock.

“Come in,” Dana called out from inside.

Taking a deep breath to calm her jangling nerves, Monica followed Jolie into the room.

When Dana looked up, her jaw dropped at the sight of the nude girls. “What in the world…?” she began, then fell silent.

Jolie blurted, “Mummy, Mon and I have been playing loving games.” Suddenly she felt less confident about her mother’s reaction. In a smaller voice she added, “That’s all right, isn’t it?”

Dana was somewhat shaken, but there was only one possible response. “Of course it is, pumpkin.”

Something occurred to Jolie that she hadn’t yet considered. “Um, Mummy… will you still play loving games with me, too?” Suddenly remembering she wasn’t supposed to tell anyone else about that, she squealed, “Oops!” then clapped a hand over her mouth.

Good Christ, Dana thought. Well, our secret’s out. No sense denying it now. “Yes, sweetie. Of course.”

In the meantime, Monica had gone pale. “Oh my God…” she mumbled. Now she understood how Jolie knew so much about sex.

Jolie rushed over to Dana and hugged her tightly. “I’m sorry, Mum!” she wailed, “I d-didn’t mean to tell our secret.”

Gazing at Monica over her daughter’s shoulder, Dana said, “It’s okay, pumpkin. I do think you need to wash your face, though. You smell like Monica.”

“Okay!” Jolie ran off, leaving Monica ashen-faced, trembling with anxiety.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Blackstone,” the teen mumbled. “I didn’t know. I wasn’t trying to steal Jolie from you!”

“I know you weren’t, Monica,” Dana replied, looking squarely at the distressed girl. “Don’t worry, okay? I’m not upset. In fact, I think it’s wonderful that Jolie has a true friend who genuinely cares about her.”

“I do, I really do!” Monica insisted. “I’ll be there for her, forever and ever!”

Dana gave the girl a gentle smile. “I believe Jolie has a lot of love to give… enough for both of us. How would you feel about sharing her?”

Monica’s face brightened. “Oh, I’d be fine with that. I really do love her, you know.”

“So do I,” Dana agreed.

“B-but it’s not the same. I’m in love with her!”

“I am, too,” Dana said evenly, deliberately. “Sex with my daughter… it’s the most beautiful experience imaginable. But you already know that, don’t you?” She sighed wistfully. “I wouldn’t give up what she and I have for anything.” She stared intently at Monica. “You understand how important it is that you never tell anyone about this, don’t you? Not to anybody, not ever! Not even your mum. Jolie would be taken away from me, and that would destroy both of us.”

“Yes, I know. I’ll never say anything, Ms. Blackstone – I swear!”

Dana studied Monica for a long moment. “Fair enough. But please – call me Dana. Remember?”

Just then, Jolie bounded back into the room. “All clean and fresh, Mummy!” she reported.

Dana smiled at her. “Good for you, pumpkin.” She turned back to Monica. “I’ll bet you need to wash up yourself.”

Blushing deeply, Monica exited for the bathroom.

Jolie padded over to Dana and climbed into her mother’s lap. “Mummy, can I have a kiss?”

“Of course, baby.” Bending down, Dana claimed her child’s mouth in a tender kiss. But Jolie wanted more, and soon their tongues were passionately mingling.

My God, Dana told herself, I love her so desperately. She’s my North Star, my compass, my rudder. I’d be completely lost without her. 

She slid her hand down Jolie’s body until she was gently cupping the girl’s lightly-downed vulva. Not masturbating her, just touching.

When their lips finally drifted apart, Jolie looked up at her mother. “Mummy… can three people play loving games together?”

A squeaking sound was heard in the open doorway – and when Dana glanced in that direction, she saw Monica, still gloriously naked, wide-eyed and shocked by Jolie’s words.

On to Chapter Three!

A quick recap of the Story Thus Far: Rural paramedic Nettie Hastings finds herself in the middle of a flurry of unexplained overdose calls and, with the help of her best friend and former lover, Terry Wilder, has begun putting clues together linking the source to her own hometown. Some suspect Terry’s involvement, including police chief George Fronse, as Terry’s ex-wife is a convicted drug trafficker. A drug raid on an abandoned meat locker goes awry, and Nettie’s father is killed in an explosion. In the meantime, Nettie has entered into a clandestine affair with Terry’s preteen daughter.

For a more detailed breakdown of this story’s chapters, please consult the Chapter Links.

by Rachael Yukey

Just as George Fronse had predicted, I was sought out the following day by the DEA, with a meeting arranged in one of the little training cubicles at the fire hall. A desk and chairs had been placed there, making it a sort of ad hoc office. The agent I spoke to was an attractive yet businesslike brunette in her early thirties or so named Bridgett Ramscone. She managed to make female business attire look sexy as hell, which I would have sworn was impossible. Even in my emotionally fragile state, I’d have given a lot to get a peek under that sensible black skirt.

She identified herself as the regional supervisor for the DEA, and I wondered if she was the contact George had referred to. She carried printouts of my patient care reports from the cases I’d seen, and asked me very good, detailed questions regarding the incidents, the conclusions I’d drawn, and the lines of thinking that led to those conclusions. I told her everything I knew, omitting only the info I’d obtained from Halee.

Finally, she tucked the papers back into the labeled manila envelopes from which they had come, then placed another one on the desk.

“I have to tell you, I’m impressed,” she said. “I’ve got full-time agents working for me that probably wouldn’t have been able to make the same deductions you did. All the information I’ve gathered on you tells me you’re one hell of a paramedic, but honestly, I think you’re wasting your talents. If you ever feel like exploring the wonderful world of investigations, give me a call.”

Then she folded her hands on the table and leaned forward. “The only problem here,” she said, “is that you’re not telling me everything. The envelope in front of you contains a radio transcript of all transmissions that took place on the Franklin County channels starting at 0930 yesterday and running till the last unit reported back in service from the incident, which was late in the afternoon. Let’s see if you’re as good as I think you are. What little bit of information in there is of interest to me right this minute?”

Instantly I knew what had caught her attention. Goddamn it. I thought about playing dumb, and dismissed the idea almost at once. This tough, smart chick would see right through it.

“I suppose the part where Terry told George to hold tight at the CP until we got there,” I said, doing my best to meet her eyes, while keeping my face from giving anything away.

She smiled tightly. “Well done, Antoinette. I find it very interesting that this happened shortly after you and Terrance Wilder went to pick up his daughter from school, especially considering that the school nurse thinks she was faking her illness.”

I shrugged mentally. “I guess you already know the rest, don’t you?”

She sat back. “I’m not half-bad at deduction myself. Let’s see how I do. The girl was privy to some information, maybe had some inkling that something unusual was going on. You and Mr. Wilder told her to let you know if she heard anything else, and only you. Maybe because of a lack of faith in a certain chief of police?”

I simply stared back at her, not sure how much I should say. I was pretty much trapped, but I didn’t want to betray any confidences, either.

“I don’t blame you,” she said. “George Fronse is probably a regular Andy Griffith as a small-town cop, but we mostly keep him at arm’s length on the drug enforcement task force because he has all the subtlety and grace of a bovine belly dancer. The couple of times we’ve included him in sting operations, he’s blown it. If I could have found a way to let all the other local police forces in the county know that we had reason to suspect some large international operators in the area without him finding out, I would have. I was afraid he’d overplay his hand and make anyone who was paying attention suspicious, which of course, he did. I just about died when I heard he’d gone to the scene for that girl in Roers.”

I couldn’t help but smile a little.

“See?” she said. “You thought that was off, and probably some other stuff, too. So you were reluctant to take him into your confidence. Which is fine, it’s not like he’d have done anything useful with anything you told him.”

In spite of myself, I was getting a little annoyed with Agent Ramscone. “He’s a small-town police chief, not James Bond,” I pointed out. “He does his best.”

She dismissed this with a shrug. “The point is, the girl somehow found out where they were going, she told you, and you informed George. That was his ‘anonymous tip’. Does he even know where it came from?”

I surrendered with a sigh. She knew, and denial on my part would just send her to Terry’s door. Halee was already in deeper than she should be; the last thing she needed was this sexy battleaxe crawling up her ass.

“Halee overheard us talking a couple of nights ago,” I said. “So we asked her if she’d heard anything weird at school. She said she’d heard high school kids talking about going to a place called the locker, but didn’t know any more than that. We asked her to tell us if she heard anything else. She came home sick to tell us about the kids that were out, and then George told us a bunch of teens had been seen walking north of town and asked us to stage. I was thinking about what was out there other than cow pastures, then I realized what the locker had to be.”

Bridgett pursed her lips. “Girl, you can come and work for me any time,” she said.

“Based on that? If I’d figured it out twelve hours earlier, yesterday would have been a lot different.”

“Connecting an unknown place called the locker to a meat processing facility that’s been closed for thirty years is a hell of a leap,” she countered. “I wouldn’t have seen it. Does Fronse know where your info came from?”

“He does now. He came by Terry’s place last night, and we kind of hashed things out. What are the odds I can talk you into not bothering Halee with this?”

“What would be the point? I very much doubt she knows anything you haven’t already told me. I doubt I’ll even interview Mr. Wilder, unless something new comes to light.” Suddenly she stood, and rounded the desk. She swiveled my chair to the side, then leaned in and placed both hands on my shoulders.

“So tell me,” Bridgett said, in a voice just barely above a whisper, “how was your movie night with that young girl?”

Every muscle in my body froze. I even stopped breathing for a moment. Slowly I tilted my head up to meet her gaze, but didn’t speak.

“Or how about Friday night, when she came over on her own?” she went on, her voice husky and intense.

“It was fun,” I finally got out, keeping my voice steady with an effort. “Halee’s a pretty cool kid.”

“Oh, I’ll just bet,” she said, and now there was something feral in her eyes. Taking my hands in hers, she pulled me to my feet. It wasn’t the most dominant of moves; I’m taller than her by a good seven inches. But somehow, this chick wasn’t even a little bit diminished by being towered over. We stood there for a moment, her gazing up at me with the corners of her mouth turned upwards, my hands still in hers.

“Don’t worry,” she told me. “Not just anybody would see what I see. Almost nobody, as a matter of fact. Only people who share what we share would catch on.”

I was starting to understand the significance of what she was saying, and a wonderful sort of excitement enveloped me. Not a sexual excitement, exactly, although maybe there was a little of that there, too. Agent Ramscone’s expression made it clear that she understood at least a little of what was in my mind.

Suddenly she let go of my hands and stepped back. “Thank you for your time, Ms. Hastings. I’ll be in touch if anything further needs to be discussed.”

I nodded once and turned to go. Then she seized my wrist from behind, capturing it in surprisingly strong fingers. She was at my side, her mouth just below my left ear.

“You’re not evil,” she whispered, “and you are not alone.”

She let my arm go and stepped back. My mind reeling, I got myself the hell out of there.

***

Hours later, I was at the dinner table at Terry’s house. Halee had prepared pork chops, mashed potatoes, and asparagus with her customary skill. Before the kids came home from school, I’d told Terry about my interview with Bridgett Ramscone, and how she’d deduced that Halee was our source. Terry took the news in stride, acknowledging that it probably didn’t really make a difference.

The younger kids were animatedly recounting the events of the school day. The big scandal, as related by Naomi, was two middle-school girls being caught kissing in the bathroom. And to make matters more interesting, Naomi went on to mention that little Chelsey Milne, who was in her fifth grade class, had said that it kind of sounded like fun.

Upon hearing this, I choked a little on a mouthful of potato. Halee caught my eye and grinned.

“Some of the other kids got kind of mean,” said Naomi, “calling her a lesbian and stuff. Some of us told them to stop and leave her alone, but they didn’t until one of the teachers made them.”

Terry leaned forward with interest. “Clarify, if you would please, oh dearest of daughters,” He said. “What precisely did they say that was, to borrow your choice of words, mean?”

“Well… they called her a lesbian, Dad! And they said…”

“And by that you mean to imply that being referred to as a lesbian is an insult?” Terry broke in, a grin toying with his lips.

Naomi was smart enough to recognize the trap that had been laid for her. “Well, uh, I guess it is if you’re not one, right?”

“Why would it be?” I asked her. “Unless you think there’s something wrong with being a lesbian, it would just be a mistake, right?”

“Well… I guess so… but I think lots of kids in my class think being a lesbian is pretty weird.”

“Do you think that to be the case?” Terry wanted to know.

“I don’t know. I never thought much about it. I don’t know any lesbians, y’know?”

“Yes, you do,” said Halee suddenly. Every head at the table swiveled in her direction.

“Really?” Dawn piped up, speaking for the first time. I wondered idly if Dawn had anything more than the vaguest idea what a lesbian even was. “Who?”

Halee looked directly at her father. “I’m a lesbian,” she said with an air of finality.

Terry put down his fork and blinked in surprise. “I’ll be damned,” he said.

The younger girls were staring at their elder sister with wide eyes. “What’s a lesbian, anyway?” Maya wanted to know.

Terry looked across the table at me. “You wanna take this, Nettie?” he said. “You can probably explain it in better terms than I can. If you’re willing, that is.”

“A lesbian is a woman who’s sexually attracted to other women instead of men,” I told the little girl. “That means they prefer to date other women, or even marry them, the same way you think of the boys and girls in high school dating.”

“Why does Daddy think you could say that better than he could?” Dawn wanted to know.

“Because he knows I’m bisexual,” I explained. “That means I’m sexually interested in both women and men.”

Naomi stared at me with wide-eyed interest. “You like girls and boys both?”

I smiled. “You could put it that way, yes.”

“But Halee just likes girls,” said Dawn, in tones that suggested she was still trying to wrap her head around the concept.

Terry studied his eldest daughter searchingly. She met his gaze for a moment, then looked down at her plate. “Look at me, Halee,” he said. She hesitated only a moment, then did as he asked.

“Don’t ever be afraid to look me in the eye,” he said. “Not over something like this. If this is who you are, then you have nothing to be ashamed of. I don’t give a damn if you have sexual feelings for men, women, or Paraguayan sea turtles.” The whole table erupted in a chorus of little girl giggles.

“You’re growing into one hell of a young woman,” he went on, “and I’m proud of you. I’m especially proud that you had the guts to say what you just said.”

Quite deliberately, as if to demonstrate that Halee’s sexuality was no longer a matter of any importance to him, he picked up his fork and knife, cut off a bite-sized chunk of pork, and popped it into his mouth.

“Daddy,” Maya piped up, all wide-eyed six-year-old innocence, “what’s a sexual feeling?”

Halee grinned, and the two middle girls giggled. I covered my mouth to hide a smile. Terry swallowed his food, a rueful expression on his face.

“We’ll have a talk about that,” he said, “very soon. But not right this minute, okay?”

***

The next few days passed in a haze. I took three weeks paid time off, which was granted no questions asked due to my father’s death, but that turned out to be a mistake. I’d ended up with the job of executor of Dad’s estate, along with arranging his funeral, but aside from that I mostly ended up sitting in my apartment, with only my thoughts and a large cache of alcohol for company. I did make a token attempt to spend a little more time with my mom, but that went about as well as it ever had.

Thankfully, Dad had his affairs in meticulous order. He’d arranged things so I would be able to take possession of both his business and his house without being forced to sell them for the taxes, and there was also money. Quite a bit of money. I marveled at how the man who never seemed to have much time for me while he was alive had taken so much trouble to see I was taken care of after he was gone.

Mostly, however, I sat in my apartment, listened to records, and drank. I’d have a lot of decisions to make over the next few weeks. Move into his house, or sell it? Getting out of the apartment seemed a given, but I could easily sell the sprawling ranch-style home he’d bought with his deceased second wife and buy something a bit more practical for a single person.

In the meantime, I’d elevated the young woman who had served as his office manager to interim manager of the company. I had no intention of trying to run the business myself, but wasn’t yet certain if I wanted to find a buyer or just let someone else manage it and collect the checks.

I had no time during that week to be alone with Halee, and I didn’t seek out intimacy with anyone else, either. I didn’t even masturbate. Once the reality of Dad’s death had sunk in, and all the other weird shit that had been going on in Bronning started messing with my head, I went a little numb. I didn’t sleep well, either. The nightmares were back, and they weren’t fucking around.

There was some good news during the course of the week; everyone who had made it to the hospital alive on Monday had stayed that way. All of the critical patients had pulled through, and most of the firefighters and police officers had already been sent home by Friday. Sam Jensen, whom I’d been forced to intubate during transport, was still in the hospital, but on Wednesday she was extubated and continued to breathe under her own power. In fact, ALL of the teens were still in the hospital, even the ones who hadn’t been injured in the blast. Nobody knew why.

The DEA folks were still around. They were occupying a rental on the edge of town, no doubt due to the utter lack of a proper hotel, and working out of temporary offices at the fire hall. Bridgett Ramscone was still directing whatever it was they were up to, and she greeted me with a wink and a wave the two times I saw her around town. Both times, my guts did a little flip.

The operation itself was under a complete blackout. Nobody other than the federal agents were allowed anywhere near the valley where the incident had occurred, and any findings were kept under wraps. But there’d been two more cases similar to the ones I’d seen with Terry, both on Wednesday. The victims were teens who lived in the area, although neither attended the Bronning K-12. Another teen in Gerard had been found dead in his bedroom by his parents the same day, with no explanation. On Thursday, the rotund young man Terry had picked up on 225 died in his front yard, and was discovered there by a UPS driver around noon the following day.

George Fronse, when anyone saw him at all, was out of sorts and ill-tempered, and the  scuttlebutt was that the DEA was keeping him as much in the dark as the rest of us. Police presence was heavier than usual, with more of the county sheriff’s department’s resources concentrated in the Bronning area than I’d ever seen before. A largish number of state troopers were cruising the highways as well.

My dad’s funeral visitation was late Friday afternoon, and as his closest surviving relative I found myself hovering over his open casket for two agonizing hours, alternately shaking hands and returning hugs. Mom showed up, and surprised the hell out of me by openly weeping over his body.

Me, I’d done all the mourning that was in me for the moment, and feeling completely detached. My purse was slung over the back of a chair I’d pulled up to the front so I could sit once in awhile, and it contained, amongst other things, a standard field penlight – the kind EMS personnel use to check pupillary response. I had to resist the strange urge to pull it out and shine it up Dad’s nose for a glimpse of the lanyard that gets run up through there to hold the dearly departed’s jaw closed. That’s the state of mind I was in.

Terry and his two older girls appeared about two-thirds of the way through. By this time foot traffic had slowed to a trickle, most of the remaining guests were at the back of the room, talking and taking in refreshments, and I was sitting by myself next to my father’s body. I stood as they approached. Terry was wearing a suit. Halee and Naomi were absolutely ravishing in simple, elegant, matching black evening wear.

I stood up, letting Terry pull me into a hug. I hugged him back, tears stinging my eyelids as I reflected that Terry was one of the only people here this evening who actually came for me and not for form’s sake. He held me at arms length.

“Doing okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said, willing myself not to sniffle. I gave him a small smile that I’m sure totally failed to convince, and he turned his attention to the casket, inclining his head slightly. Halee wrapped her arms around me, and we held each other for as long as propriety would permit. Then she joined her father while Naomi gave me a hug.

“I was in the Twin Cities yesterday, and I stopped by the Hennepin Hospital to see Wes Hamilton,” Terry said.

“Is it true he’s going to lose his leg?” I inquired.

“They’ve already amputated, poor bastard. He asked me to give you a message. He saw your dad go down, and he said I’m the first person who wasn’t taking an official report he’s been able to tell.”

He gestured towards the casket. “Wes tells me this man threw himself over the top of Sam Jensen when the explosion went off. They were then hit by shrapnel when one of the pressure tanks along the wall blew a few seconds later. She only took that slash across her gut, because he blocked the rest of it.”

I gazed down into the casket at my father’s frozen visage. “I hadn’t heard that till now,” I said. It explained a lot, though. My dad had been killed by scraps of metal piercing his body from behind, one of which had found its way to his aorta and torn it wide. He’d have bled out in the space of a minute or two.

“Probably only Wes saw it,” said Terry, “and you know the feds aren’t sharing anything he reported with the lowly likes of us.”

“He was a hero,” Halee said simply, looking down at the body with solemn respect.

“Sure was,”  said Naomi, somewhat less solemnly but no less respectful.

Terry reached into the casket, and covered my dad’s hand with his. “Godspeed, fireman. I didn’t know you well, but whenever I cross paths with the young woman whose life you saved, I’ll remember you.”

Withdrawing his hand, he turned towards me. “You know where I am if you need anything,” he said, embracing me once more.

Halee hugged me again after he let go. “That goes for me, too,” she said.

“Do you want to come over and watch a movie again tonight?” I asked her suddenly. “If it’s all right with you, Terry. I want to be at home, but I could use some company.”

Terry shrugged. “I have no problem with it.”

“Do you want me to stay for the night, or just for the movie?” Halee wanted to know.

“I’d love it if you stayed, but you don’t have to. I’ll be done here in half an hour; you can come anytime after that.”

“Then I’ll see you soon,” she said with a sly little grin. She turned toward the casket, reached in, hesitated, and then gingerly let her hand rest on top of my dad’s in imitation of her father’s gesture a moment ago. It was probably, I thought, the first time she’d ever touched a corpse.

“Thank you for Sam,” she said, then withdrew her hand and followed her father back up the aisle. Naomi looked in as she passed the casket one last time, started to extend her hand, and then tucked it at her side as if hoping nobody would notice. I had to suppress a grin as she trailed along behind her father and older sister.

I moved to stand over my father’s body, bowing my head to stare down at him.

“I’m proud of you, Daddy,” I whispered, and let the tears fall.

***

Halee appeared at my door less than half an hour after I returned to my apartment, an overnight bag in her hand. I would ordinarily have changed into something more comfortable the moment I walked through the door, but thanks to the appreciative glances I’d received from the men (and a few of the women) who had attended my father’s visitation, I knew exactly how fetching I looked in my slim blue evening dress. Even better, Halee was still wearing the flattering ensemble she’d had on earlier.

“Mmmm,” I said, sliding my hand down her side. “Wearing that for me?”

“You haven’t changed yet, either,” she pointed out with a grin. “So… what movie did you have in mind?”

“One starring you in the nude,” I told her, reaching around and cupping her ass.

“That sounds like a great show,” Halee purred. Standing on her tiptoes, she kissed me.

As I mentioned earlier, I’d completely abstained from sexual activity since Halee fingered me to a climax Monday night in Terry’s guest bed. The moment her tongue found its way into my mouth, it was over. I kissed her back with abandon, eagerly tugging the lower part of her dress upwards so I could slip my fingers beneath. When my hands reached her bottom and found it bare, I broke off the kiss.

“For me?” I breathed, losing myself in those hazel eyes.

We kissed again, her back pressed against the door and the fingers of both my hands between her cheeks. She didn’t engage my mouth for very long, concentrating instead on my neck, always my erogenous weak point.

“If you keep doing that,” I said, my voice almost a moan, “we’re going to end up doing it right here in the entryway.”

I’m not sure who led who to the bedroom, but the next thing I knew we were on my bed, hands and mouths all over each other. Halee was on top of me, and I used that handy vantage point to unzip her dress. She raised her body until she was kneeling over me, and pulled the garment over her head, flinging it to one side.

Now completely naked, she collapsed atop me, slipping one of her legs between mine and grinding against my pussy. I pushed back, the first wave of pleasure hitting me as I began to hump Halee’s thigh. She let me do that for a minute before pulling away, scrambling upright to kneel between my legs.

“Get rid of this fucking dress,” she said hoarsely.

I got up on my knees, and we worked together to strip me down to my underwear. Halee reached around my back and undid my bra, tossing it to the floor, along with the dress. Then she scooched forward and buried her face between my tits, kissing into the valley they formed, shoving both hands down the back of my panties as her mouth restlessly roamed over my breasts. Shifting one hand around to the front, she thrust two fingers between my folds. I threw my head back and gasped, a shudder racing through me.

“Somebody’s a little wet,” she teased. As she sawed her fingers in and out, slowly and sensuously, she kissed my neck, moving up to nibble on my earlobe. “I want to taste you, the way you tasted me,” she breathed.

I pulled my head back and looked into her eyes. “You want to eat my pussy, you mean?”

Halee grinned. “Yeah! I want to eat your pussy. I’ve been thinking about it ever since you did it to me.”

I stretched out on the bed, my legs wide open. “It’s all yours, honey,” I said.

Halee took her time. She started with my feet, caressing and loving them with gentle fingers. When she slipped those fingers between my toes, one by one, I almost came on the spot. Who knew a foot massage could be so fucking erotic? Inexperienced little Halee was doing things to me that no one else had before. She moved upwards, this time using both fingers and mouth, loving each of my lower legs in turn. She held a leg straight up in the air, running her tongue delicately across the back of my knee, then proceeded to do the same to the other leg.

When she got to my thighs, Halee turned up the intensity, kissing and biting her way up both of them. Finally she lay down on her belly, face just inches from my aching twat. I could feel wetness running down the crack of my ass. She moved forward slowly, opening me wide with her thumbs. Then she extended her tongue, delicately licking up the length of one outer lip, then the other. Each time, I involuntarily thrust my pelvis to meet her.

Her tongue slipped back down through the liquid center, barely brushing my clit. I felt a wave of pleasure that wrenched a cry from my quivering lips. She slipped her tongue inside me, working it in and out. I was out of my mind with sexual rapture, practically whimpering. Finally her tongue traveled upward, going to work on the sensitive nub of my clit with fast, yet delicate little licks.

Then there were fingers in me; two of them, I think. Halee worked them in and out, now licking my clit more directly and with more intensity. She would pleasure me hard and fast, driving me towards the edge, then back off, sucking my clit delicately and slowing her pumping arm down to a crawl. Then the intensity again. In this way she extended my plateau much longer than it otherwise would have lasted. Finally she let it happen, pushing me to a moaning, body-shaking climax so intense I thought I was going to pass out.

Finding my strength, I pulled her to me, kissing her passionately, tasting and smelling myself on her face. “Did you like doing that?” I breathed.

“I loved it,” she got out, in a voice that plainly said that she was in need of a little something herself.

I started kissing my way down her body, paying attention to her neck, her ears and her shoulders. I spent a lot of time on her tits. They weren’t big, but seemed to be amazingly sensitive. Every time my tongue flicked across a nipple, she moaned. When I sucked one into my mouth, her body gave a violent jerk.

“I can’t wait any more,” she panted. “Please, Nettie… please m-make me come.”

I planted my mouth between her labia. No subtlety; I sensed the immediacy of her need. She was wailing from the moment I began. Deciding the time had come for a bold move, I slipped a hand up her leg and to her hole, sliding an experimental finger inside. Just the tip, mind you. I encountered resistance and stopped there.

I looked up at her. “Is this okay, Halee?” She didn’t speak, only nodded. I went back to work, licking furiously while carefully sliding the tip of my finger in and out. With the other hand, I reached up to tweak each of her nipples in turn.

That was all it took; suddenly she was arching her back, making those little “uh… uh… uh…” noises that signified her orgasm, and I could feel her pussy clamp down rhythmically on my finger. Then she collapsed onto the bed.

We held each other for awhile, relaxing in silent bliss.

“Where did you learn to edge like that?” I said at last.

“Edge?”

“Where you took me almost all the way, then pulled back. It’s called edging.”

“Oh, I get it,” she said. “I do that to myself all the time. Otherwise, it’s over way too fast.”

I kissed her, then pulled away, reaching for my phone to check the time.

“You know, it’s just barely after eight,” I told her. “I’m not ready for bed yet; are you?”

On to Chapter Thirteen!

A quick recap of the Story Thus Far: Rural paramedic Nettie Hastings finds herself in the middle of a flurry of unexplained overdose calls, and has begun putting clues together linking the source to her own hometown. She and her former lover, author Terry Wilder, suspect the involvement of police chief George Fronse, but have no proof to back it up. Meanwhile, she has finally consummated a burning desire for Terry’s preteen daughter.

After she and Terry work out the location of what they believe to be the drug dealers’ headquarters, they contact the police chief and a raid is hurriedly set up. But things go wrong right away — has a trap been set? In the fallout, Nettie’s father is killed.

For a more detailed breakdown of this story’s chapters, please consult the Chapter Links.

by Rachael Yukey

The glare of the overheads in the back of the ambulance was blinding after the overcast skies outside. I squinted as my ass hit the bench seat, and Samantha Jensen’s supine form came into focus. Her eyes were open, and she cast her gaze around wildly. “Samantha,” I said to her. She looked in my direction, eyes heavy and unseeing. Then she dropped her head to the pillow, closed her eyes, and moaned. There was soot around the edges of her mouth. Jessie was trying to hold pressure on the big abdominal dressing, which by now was completely red.

“Let go of it,” I told her. “You’re not gonna stop the bleeding. Change your gloves and get a neb mask on her with some albuterol; it’ll buy us a few minutes while I get ready for a tube. Then get me some vitals.”

The rig pulled out, jouncing badly on the rough terrain. Jessie let go of the dressing. Pulling it back, I ignored Sam’s yelp, examining the ugly laceration across her lower left quadrant. Blood pooled around protruding intestines. Setting the dressing back in place, I stripped off my blood-smeared gloves and tossed them to the floor. I had new ones on in seconds, and began hastily laying out IV supplies.

Jessie had the nebulizer in place and running, and was getting vitals like I’d asked. But when she started pulling the ECG cables from the monitor saddlebag, I had to resist the urge to smack her fingers.

“To hell with the four-lead,” I snapped. “Get a fresh dressing to put on the wound, but get it wet before you apply it. Just cut open a bag of saline and douse the damn thing. I need to get this IV started.” I thought it better not to tell Jessie that if I didn’t get a line and damn fast, this was all going to be for nothing. The niceties had to go out the window.

Jessie pulled a new dressing out of an overhead cabinet. I found a good spot for the IV almost right away, but held off for the sixty extra seconds it took Stacy to pull us out of the woods and onto the comparatively smooth gravel road, using the time to squirt medication into a bag of saline.

“Sam,” I said as I filled syringes, “can you hear me?” She shook her head violently from side to side, eyes squeezed shut. “We’re taking care of you, sweetheart,” I told her. “I know it hurts. Try to relax as much as you can.”

I got the IV on the first try, and hung the bag with the clotting agent. In my peripheral vision I could see Jessie cutting away the girl’s garments, rapidly inspecting for additional injuries. I turned my attention to the head, considering the layer of soot around the lips. Getting out my penlight, I moved the neb mask to one side and peered into her mouth, feeling my jaw tighten at the first signs of inflammation in her airway. Smoke inhalation for sure. Fuck, fuck, FUCK.

I knew I was going to have to intubate her before her pipes closed altogether, but I stole a second to peel back an eyelid and shine my light on a pupil. Sam started, blinked, and looked up. With obvious effort, she focused in on me.

“I think the bleeding is slowing down a little,” Jessie said. I glanced over, and noticed that while the bottom of the new dressing was saturated in red ooze, the upper portion looked clean.

“Beautiful,” I said, turning my eyes back to Sam, who was still staring at me. Unzipping the ALS bag, I began extracting the items I would need for the tube. The whole time I was uncomfortably aware of Sam Jensen’s gaze.

Finally she spoke. “You’re… Nettie Hastings?” Even muffled by the mask, it sounded like the voice of a throat cancer patient with a two pack a day habit, and was followed by a dry, hacking cough. I could just barely make out what she was saying.

“Yeah,” I said. I got into the narc safe and pulled out the little box of magic contained therein. I briefly debated going for a second IV; I dislike sedating and paralyzing someone for intubation without a backup line. I dismissed the notion; time was not on our side.

“Mom says you t-took me to the hospital when I got sick,” the raspy voice informed me.

“That was me,” I said, putting as much cheer in my voice as possible. I busied myself drawing up the meds for the procedure. By this time Jessie had divested the girl of her garments and placed blankets over her private areas.

“What were you doing at the meat locker, Sam?” I inquired.

“Was I at the locker?” I wasn’t surprised that she didn’t remember. Sam and the other kids had clearly been under the influence of a sedative of some kind, and many of the common varieties burn away the memory of whatever was happening right before and right after the dose.

“Tell me about the locker, Sam.”

“I’m… not s’posed to… it’s a secret.”

“I can keep a secret.” I laid my labeled syringes down for a second, deciding to go for that second IV after all. So long as she was able to talk, I had time, and maybe there was a chance to find out what was going on.

“We p-party there.” The voice was low, the eyes distant. “We… we… good times. The best shit’s there. All of it. We get the good shit.”

“Who do you get it from? I might want some.” I slid the second IV catheter in, with no noticeable reaction from Sam. I’d probably gotten as much information out of her as I was going to.

Sam tried to speak, failed, and coughed. Interview over, I decided, and attached the syringe of sedative to the IV port.

But then her eyes popped open again. “Shutting it down,” she croaked. “Shutting… they’re shutting it down. Need to get… they said we’d g-get… don’t want withdrawal again. I need…” Her face contorted in agony.

“Withdrawal?” I said, sitting up straight.

“Yeah… like when you took me… hospital. Withdrawal…” She began to cough again, but it came out as dry wheezes. No more time.

“You’re going to sleep, Sam,” I told her as I was pushing the sedative. “I need to put you to sleep so I can help you. You’ll wake up in a couple of days.” So rapidly did the drug take hold that I’m not sure if she heard me or not. I waited sixty seconds, then flicked an eyelid  and got no response. I pushed the paralytic, and watched Sam Jensen’s breathing slow, then stop.

“Ready with the bougie,” I said to Jessie. I slipped my laryngoscope into the mouth and swept the tongue aside. A bead of sweat trickled down my nose; I ignored it. The edema was starting to get bad, but I could still see everything clearly. The airway was inflamed, but not ashy or particularly discolored, and I had some hope that it hadn’t gone deeper to do significant damage to the alveoli.

“Bougie,” I said. Just as Jessie slid a long blue stick of plastic into the mouth the truck hit a pothole, very nearly robbing me of my precious view of the trachea. I hissed, “Fuck!” took a moment to steady myself, then took the blue plastic stick from Jessie’s hand, easing it down and in.

“Tube me,” I commanded. Jessie slipped the endotracheal tube over the bougie, and I took it from her, sliding it in deeper and watching as it slipped between the vocal cords, then inflating the cuff.

“Bag,” I said. Jessie hooked the bulbous bag valve mask to the end of the tube and squeezed. I watched the chest rise. “Nice,” I exulted.

But the self-satisfaction that always comes in the wake of a successful field tube was short-lived. The memory of my father’s waxy, gray visage blurred my vision, and I pushed it aside with a herculean effort.

I secured the tube, then listened to the lungs to ensure we were getting air on both sides. I glanced at the monitor; vitals looked good. The dressing still draped across the abdomen didn’t appear to be absorbing any more blood. There was a reasonable chance that Sam’s luck would hold out once again.

***

“We weren’t even really that close,” I said numbly. I was on Terry’s love seat, legs drawn up, Halee seated next to me with her arm around my shoulders. My hair was still wet from the shower, and I held a drink in trembling hands. “I mean… after he split up with my mom, I always felt like he was more interested in his business than he was in me. I don’t know, Terry, I…” I broke off, fighting back tears.

There’d been a lot to cry about that day. Two firefighters had died, with three more still in critical condition. Two of the teens who were still in the building at the time of the explosion were also critical. The rest of them were fine; turns out they’d been under the influence of an ordinary sedative, not whatever wild shit had been plaguing the Bronning area of late.

I’d delivered Sam Jensen to Pinewood hospital in Johnstown, still alive and reasonably stable. Thormleton Ambulance had brought in three other patients from the meat locker scene while we were still at the hospital, one about as badly off as Sam, and two non-critical cases in a single truck. Terry had done a masterful job of resource allocation, distributing the patients so that no hospital emergency department or ambulance service was pushed too far beyond its limits.

There had been a bunch of officers at the hospital, along with two men in black suits who were clearly in authority over the cops. Terry told me later that a number of black-suited men and women in a black Suburban had appeared in the valley shortly after the last patient had been shipped off, politely but firmly taking charge of the scene. Thus far there was radio silence; we had been given no information regarding the cause of the explosion, or what else might have been found in the old brick building. The only real news was that all seven kids, injured or otherwise, were being held overnight for observation at the hospitals where they’d been taken, apparently on the insistence of the black suits.

“How’s your mom taking it?” Terry asked gently. I shook myself out of my reverie.

Terry had been waiting at the station upon my return. He shepherded me into his car and drove me back to his place. I didn’t have it in me to argue. He’d already farmed out his three youngest to a babysitter for the night. Now he was sitting in his recliner, drink in hand. If he suspected that Halee snuggling with me was anything more than an attempt at comfort, he didn’t say so.

“I don’t know,” I said. “She’d heard about it by the time I talked to her, and she was already putting a brave face on it. Or maybe she really doesn’t give a shit. They’ve been divorced for seventeen years, you know.”

I tossed my drink back in a single gulp. “Got any more where that came from?”

Terry regarded me sidelong, opened his mouth as if to speak, then rose from his chair. He plucked the glass from my hand, disappeared into the kitchen, and returned a moment later with a refill. I gave him what I hoped was a grateful little smile, and put away half the glass in one go.

Terry took only one step towards his recliner, halting in midstride at a sharp rap on the front door. Halee’s dog Lanie uncurled herself from her lap and hit the floor at a dead run, yipping obnoxiously as she made a beeline down the hall towards the foyer.

“Who the fuck…?” Terry muttered, following the dog at a more sedate pace. I heard the door open, then a moment’s silence.

“George,” Terry finally said. “Can I help you? This isn’t a great time.”

George Fronse gave a reply I couldn’t quite catch, and moments later the two men appeared in the hallway, George following close behind Terry. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, and looked as if he’d just gotten out of the shower.

“Nettie,” George said as he strode into the living room, “I don’t even know how to start telling you how sorry I am. I knew your dad for a long, long time.”

“Thanks, George,” I managed.

Terry waved vaguely in the direction of the couch. “Have a seat, George,” he said. “Can I offer you a drink?”

George shook his head. “No, I’d better…” The words seemed to stick in his throat. “What have you got?” he said at last.

Terry blinked, but that was his only outward reaction. It would have gone unnoticed by anyone who didn’t know him well. “We’re enjoying a scotch that stands an above-average chance of changing your religion,” he said. “I also have some very good bourbon and rye, a decent spiced rum, or vodka and plain rum with appropriate mixers if you suffer from a delicate palate.”

“What do you have to mix? I don’t want you to go to a lot of trouble…”

“I could make you a screwdriver easily enough.”

“That’ll work. Thank you, Terry.” George sat, and Terry disappeared into the kitchen. An awkward silence fell, broken only by the sounds of ice and gurgling liquid from the kitchen. George made a point of examining his hands. Halee’s arm tightened around my shoulders, and I pulled her close.

Terry returned a moment later, pressing a drink into George Fronse’s hand. George took a sip, nodded approval, then took another. He cast his eyes back and forth across the room, between the recliner and the love seat. Finally his eyes settled on Halee.

“It might be better for this to be an adults-only conversation,” he said.

Terry opened his mouth, then closed it again. His eyes turned to his daughter, then back to George. “She stays for the moment,” he said.

George shrugged. “I’ll come right to the point, then. I covered for the two of you today. I told the DEA people that we went to that valley based on an anonymous tip. I did it out of respect for you, Nettie, but it puts my butt in a major bind if anyone finds out. I want to know what the hell’s going on, and how you knew where to go.”

He fixed his eyes on Terry, his expression suddenly hard. “And I especially want to know what your part is in all this. If I don’t get answers I like, you and me are going to have a major problem, and I promise you won’t like the way it ends.”

Terry met his gaze, unflinching. “I get it,” he said. “You figure all you have to do is tell the Feds that I had information no one else had access to, they’ll do some digging and find me guilty as hell, and you get the satisfaction of seeing me clapped in irons. I don’t know in what way I pissed in your Cheerios when I moved to town, but I’m officially through trying to get on your good side. Go fuck yourself, George.”

Halee stirred uncomfortably at my side, and I stole a glance at her. She was staring at her father. I looked back over at George, who was gazing steadily back into Terry’s furious eyes.

“I’ve probably deserved that,” he said. “But not this time. In case you weren’t listening, I covered for you today, Terry. I did it mostly for Nettie, but if I hadn’t, you’d have federal agents in here right this minute crawling up your ass with a microscope. I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt here for the moment, but that has to end if you can’t tell me something that makes sense.”

Terry settled back, the hardness fading from his face. “Fair enough,” said after a moment’s thought. “but it has to be tit for tat, even taking into account your unfortunate lack of tits.”

Maybe it was just the stress of the preceding twelve hours or so, but even George cracked up a little at that. “Meaning?” he said.

“Meaning,” said Terry, “that you’re not the only one here who’s harbored suspicions. You’ve been acting just plain fucking weird ever since Jason Bixley face-planted that dump truck. Did you actually think Nettie and I didn’t notice how you just randomly appeared on calls you ordinarily wouldn’t have bothered responding to? Or how about that bullshit you fed Nettie about not being able to authorize access to the Bixley autopsy? You talk to us, and we’ll talk to you.”

George sipped his drink, staring straight ahead at nothing in particular. He looked at me, then Terry, and at length began to speak.

“You probably know I’m part of the narcotics task force in this part of the state,” he said at last. “Just a bunch of city, state, and county cops that coordinate to try and chase down traffickers. There’s a big bust every year or so, but to be honest we don’t even really make a dent in the supply. We have a DEA contact who gets in touch with us once in a while, but mostly we’re on our own.

“Anyway, we received information from our DEA lady a few weeks back that people associated with some major cartels might be operating in our county, and to be extra vigilant for suspicious activity. Also to keep anything unusual under wraps as much as possible until DEA agents had a chance to look at the evidence.”

He looked at me apologetically. “That’s why I tried to keep the autopsy report away from you, Nettie. I guess if you wanted it badly enough, you probably got it through other channels, anyway.”

“Yeah,” I said, “I saw it. I suppose you already know that Sam Jensen had the same stuff in her system that Jason did. You wanna tell me what that shit is?”

“I wish I knew,” George said. “I’d like to say that our DEA contact is holding out on us, but I have an idea she doesn’t really know, either.”

Terry waved a hand towards George’s empty glass. “Another one, George?” he inquired.

“Sure, why the hell not?” said George. “Wes is hurt, so I’m the only city cop left, but after today I don’t really care. If anything happens tonight, I don’t think anyone will fault me if I just call in a mutual aid from the county.”

Terry fetched him another drink, while another silent pallor descended on the room. After he’d returned, handed over the glass and resumed his seat, George straightened from his slouch and fixed Terry with a steady gaze.

“Your turn,” said George. “How did you know where to look today?”

Terry fixed his gaze upon the ceiling, lips pursed. Finally he appeared to come to a decision. Halee,” he said at last, “tell the chief everything you’ve told us.”

She began, haltingly at first, then with an increasing confidence. By the time she was done, it was evident that the only thing standing between Halee and her father’s multisyllabic verbosity was time.

George was nodding slowly, almost to himself, as she finished. “I want to say I wish you’d come to me with that, Terry” he said at last, “but I understand why you didn’t, and to be honest I don’t think I’d have made the connection, either.”

He fixed his gaze directly on Halee. “You saved some lives today, young lady.”

I felt her tense in my arms. “If I’d just stayed in school,” she said bitterly, “Nettie’s dad would still be alive.”

George nodded. ”That’s possible,” he said, “but think about the numbers. Two people died today. If you hadn’t acted, we’d have lost all seven of the kids who were in that room. It wasn’t the only factor, either. I ran the operation by the numbers; slow and careful. It was textbook, and I’m going to come out smelling like a rose on paper. But if I’d moved faster, maybe we’d have got everyone out before the place went up. We can’t predict these things; we just have to do the best we can with the information we have. You did the right thing. Don’t ever think otherwise.”

Terry was looking at George with something like wonder. He turned his eyes to his daughter. “Consider the old soldier’s axiom that no battle plan survives first contact with the enemy,” he said. “Events of this nature are impossible to predict. We asked you to sound the alarm, and you did. Nothing else could have been expected of you, kiddo.”

Halee said nothing. I knew that she was going to have to work this out in her own way, and just hoped I could find a way to help her with that.

“What caused the explosion, George?” I inquired.

“The feds probably know,” he said. “I sure don’t. They’ve got the whole scene locked down, and aren’t talking about anything they find. There were a whole slew of pressure tanks in there for various types of gasses, and who knows what the hell was under that tarp or in the crates? I don’t know when or if we’re going to get access to the facility, or any information.”

“Have the kids who didn’t get hurt said anything?’ said Terry. “Or don’t you know?”

“I managed to talk to a couple of them before the feds took over,” said George. “They were just coming out from under some kind of narcotic and were pretty damn groggy, but what I was able to get was that the place has been a sort of party spot for the past month or so, with some really good drugs. The kids said there were some adults there kind of running the show, but it wasn’t anybody they knew from before. They had some names, but they struck me as fake ones. They had names for the drugs too, stuff like ‘frizzies,’ and ‘carbon boosters.’ Nothing I’ve ever heard of.”

“I talked to Sam Jensen a little before I tubed her,” I put in. George raised his eyebrows.

“She said some of the same things,” I said, “except for the names. And she said something about the place shutting down, and wanting to get some stuff before she went into withdrawal.”

Terry sat forward, and it dawned on me that I hadn’t gotten around to telling him, either. “Withdrawal?” he said. “You haven’t mentioned that.”

I met his eyes. “I’m sorry,” I said. “What with Dad and everything, I almost forgot about it. She talked about withdrawals, and specifically referenced the time I took her to the hospital last weekend.”

Terry shifted in his seat. “So maybe she wasn’t actually high, but going through withdrawal? How likely do you think that is?”

“It’s possible,” I replied. Despite the grief and the booze, the clinician in me was starting to take over, and I welcomed the respite. “Withdrawal manifests in all kinds of ways. Look at heroin; overdose is deadly, but the withdrawal won’t kill you. It just makes you so sick you wish you were dead. But alcohol withdrawal is dangerous as hell. The DTs can spark a cardiac arrest. If I see that, I’m pushing Versed faster than you can blink. So yeah… I thought she was high on something, you did too, but it could have been some really ugly withdrawal symptoms.”

“So… the same shit could conceivably happen to them all over again. Maybe we should make some phone calls.” Terry was already stabbing at his phone.

I dismissed this with a wave of my hand. “Everyone’s getting held for observation,” I reminded him. “They’re all in hospitals. If we hear tomorrow that kids are being sent home, we can deal with it then.”

George looked from me to Terry, who was reluctantly lowering his phone. “It probably doesn’t matter,” he said. “The investigation is out of my hands, and whoever was behind it is probably on another continent by now. I’m guessing the DEA people are going to be talking to you, Nettie, along with anyone else who transported one of the kids. Make sure you tell them everything Sam Jensen said to you; it might matter. I don’t like the way they cut me and the county people out, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t give them whatever information they need to go after these bastards.”

“As long as we can keep Halee’s name out of it,” Terry said, in a tone that left no room for argument.

“Fair enough,” said George. He stood. “I should go,” he said. “Nettie, I’m more sorry than I can say.”

I nodded numbly. Terry rose to his feet, beckoning George in the direction of the hallway. Moments later, I heard their voices from the foyer.

“Terry,” George was saying, “I don’t know that you and I are ever going to see eye-to-eye. But maybe we can declare a truce until this is over?”

“George,” I heard Terry reply in a weary voice, “if there’s any conflict here, it’s always been one-sided. I don’t have a problem with you. All that’s needed is for you to back the fuck off.”

There was a long silence. “I’ll do my best,” George said at last. The door opened, then closed again. Halee wrapped her arms around me and squeezed, sapping any restraint I had left. By the time Terry returned to the living room, I was weeping into her shoulder.

***

I ended up in Terry’s guest room for the night. I made a token effort to go home, but both Halee and Terry insisted otherwise, and I was simply in no condition to resist. As I lay back on the bed, I reflected that Terry and I both have dominating alpha personalities, and it’s probably the biggest source of friction between us. Halee was clearly developing the same characteristic, and I wondered what that would mean in the long term. Probably, I thought with wry amusement, she’ll end up hating both me AND her dad.

Then the door cracked open, and Halee was framed in the light from the downstairs hallway. She was wearing a yellow nightgown that came to her knees. Closing the door behind her, she crossed to the bed, sat, and took my hand in hers.

“Do you want company?” she asked simply. There was maturity beyond her years in the voice. “I’ll sleep in here with you if you want, or go away if you want to be alone.”

I slid over to one side of the bed and lifted the comforter. Halee slipped in next to me and snuggled up. I wrapped an arm around her.

“Think your dad will be okay with this?” I inquired in a whisper.

“I told him I was coming to check on you, and I might sleep in here with you if you wanted it,” she replied, also sotto voce. “He just sees it as two girls sleeping in the same bed, y’know?”

I leaned in and kissed her, my lips parted slightly. She opened her mouth a little, but made no other moves. I slipped my tongue inside. She teased the tip with hers for a moment, then pulled away.

“We shouldn’t,” she said.

“Because your dad’s in the house?” I asked. “We’d hear him on the stairs long before he got to us, and anyway I doubt he’d just barge in.”

“Well, there’s that,” she said, “but I didn’t think you’d really want to, after… you know…”

I kissed her again, this time more fervently. After a moment’s hesitation, she kissed me back with equal ardor.

“I don’t know how much I’m up to,” I told her, “but I need something. Make me forget the world exists, Halee.”

She was kissing my neck, gently, with love rather than passion. All the same, the heat was rising in me, and I felt myself getting wet. I took her hand and guided it downwards, stuffing it under the waistband of the sweat pants I was wearing. Understanding what I was asking for, she slipped her fingers beneath the elastic of my panties. Softly she caressed my mound, then went deeper, moistening her fingers on my slippery hole before starting a slow circular motion on my clit.

My response was immediate and I gasped for air, rocking my hips against her hand. She picked up the pace a little, and our mouths came together once more. When she pulled away, I registered through the waves of pleasure that her own breathing was ragged and strained. I slipped a hand up her leg and towards her center, only to find Halee’s hand already there and at work. I looked into her eyes, and she smiled even as a gasp of pleasure escaped her lips.

“You just relax,” she whispered with a sly grin. “I’m doing everything tonight.”

I gave in, burying my face in her shoulder. The waves were coming closer together, and with a greater intensity. With my head pressed to Halee’s chest, I could feel her shuddering response, and hear the hitch and tear of her breathing. I fed off of the sexual energy pulsating from this exquisite creature, just barely on the cusp of adolescence, and no more than a minute later I felt the inexorable birth of my climax. I bucked against her hand, pressing my lips together to stifle the cries.

Halee’s fingers slowed, delicately caressing my outer lips, but I could feel her other arm working furiously as she drove herself to ecstasy. As she fell off the edge of the cliff she twisted her head, burying her face deep in the pillow. I wrapped both arms around her and squeezed tightly as her body convulsed. Then we lay in each other’s arms, caressing and kissing. That’s the last thing I remember before merciful sleep overtook me.

On to Chapter Twelve!

Note from JetBoy: This story is pure fantasy — not just in its portrayal of mother-daughter sex, but in its depiction of of a severe head injury. In nearly every case, an accident of this severity would have complications and consequences beyond those described here. It’s not meant to be true to life, and should not be interpreted as such. I like to think of it as an erotic fable, one about a disabled girl’s quest for love and happiness.

by Karin Halle

When Jolie was eight years old, she was badly injured in a vehicular accident. Two cars collided; one left the road and crashed into a bus shelter where Jolie was seated. The shelter collapsed, trapping the girl inside. It took three hours for firefighters to extricate her from the debris.

As a result, Jolie was in a medically induced coma for four days. And though most of her physical injuries did gradually heal, she’d sustained a blow to the head that turned out to be a far more serious matter. Once she became conscious, subsequent tests would reveal that her intellectual development had been stunted by the accident. For the remainder of her life, Jolie would possess the mental capacity of a child of eight.

Otherwise, Jolie was a healthy and happy girl. Her mother Dana was the one who was obliged to cope with their new reality. There had been a substantial compensation claim for Jolie’s benefit, and Dana had been entitled to a claim of her own. These ensured that mother and daughter could live comfortably without Dana having to work. This meant that she could educate Jolie herself, rather than send the girl to a special school.

It wasn’t easy, but Dana obtained the materials she needed to teach a child of Jolie’s age, and a year beyond that. She threw herself into the task, and within a month mother and daughter were settled into a regular homeschooling routine. Before her accident, Jolie had been a bright child… and thankfully, she still was, even though she would never develop much further than that.

***

When Jolie was fourteen years old, a new complication arose. One day, Dana was organising some papers when her daughter entered the room, a frown marring her pretty face. She said, “Mummy, I feel funny.”

As all mothers do, Dana asked her child what the trouble was, but Jolie wasn’t able to put the right words to her experience. Again, she said, “It feels funny.”

Patiently putting her papers into two stacks, one for sorted and one for unsorted, Dana asked, “Well, where do you feel funny, pumpkin?”

Jolie told her, “My kitty,” placing a hand between her legs for emphasis.

Dana had known for years that an issue of this type was sure to arise. Her daughter knew where babies came from, and that sex was a pleasurable activity for grownups to enjoy… but Dana hadn’t taken the conversation any further, had never explained to Jolie that she would develop sexual feelings of her own. That, she had decided, can wait until another day.

Apparently, that day had arrived.

She tried to start the discussion with a feeling Jolie could relate to. “You know how when you’re hungry and you have something to eat, you aren’t hungry anymore?”

The girl nodded.

“And when you’re thirsty, you have a drink, and the thirst goes away.”

“Yes, Mummy.”

“And if you have an itch, you scratch it, and that usually makes it better.”

Jolie’s expression was somewhat doubtful, as if she suspected that Mummy wasn’t answering her question at all. Dana soldiered on.

“What you’re feeling inside has to do with sex, pumpkin.”

That really perplexed her. “But why, Mummy? Does that mean I’m going to have a baby? Sex makes babies happen, right?”

“No, no,” Dana hastened to say. “Well, it does, but not this time. Don’t forget, sex is for other things besides making babies. It also feels good. Well, people get hungry for that good feeling, and it makes them want to have sex. And now that you’re growing up, you’ll be getting hungry in the same way. That’s what’s happening to you now.”

“And that means… I need to have sex?”

Suddenly Dana felt as if she had two heads, and that they were banging against each other. No matter; she needed to find some way to explain this. “Not exactly. I mean, you may be feeling that hunger… but there are lots of times in life where you just aren’t able to have sex. What if no one else is there? What would you do then?”

Jolie thought about it. “Um, I dunno. What?”

So innocent, Dana thought. “You touch your kitty, and make the good feeling happen for yourself.”

Frowning, Jolie said, “Touch my kitty? Why? The feeling isn’t there, Mummy. It’s inside.”

“Just try it, honey… when you do, you’ll understand.”

“But… how, Mummy?” Jolie was becoming upset. “I don’t know what to do!”

Dana had no idea how to respond. How do I get her to understand this? She couldn’t even think straight – this situation was beyond anything she’d encountered. Can a girl with a mental age of eight be taught to give herself orgasms? What words do you use to convey the idea of sexual release?

Not knowing what else to do, Dana took her daughter’s hand. “Come with me,” she said, then led Jolie to her bedroom, where they sat down together at the foot of the bed.

“Take your shorts and underpants off for me, okay?”

Jolie was still confused, but she did understand that Mommy was doing her best to help. She stood up and slipped out of her shorts, pushing her panties down at the same time. Now nude from the waist down, she stood before her mother.

Taking a deep breath, Dana began. “You remember how I told you about your vagina, right? The inside of your kitty?”

Jolie furrowed her brow. “I – I’m not sure…”

“It’s that opening down there, pumpkin – the hole where you pee from, and where blood comes out when you have your period!”

“Oh, yeah, now I remember!”

“Very good. Well, if you touch down there, I bet you’ll find that you’re wet.”

“I haven’t wet myself, Mummy,” Jolie indignantly replied. “Really, I haven’t!”

But when she actually did touch between her thighs, there was wetness… then she recalled having felt that same wetness in her underpants.

“No, no!” Jolie began to cry. “I’m sorry, Mummy,” she whimpered, lowering her head in shame. She’d peed herself, just like a little kid! “I d-didn’t mean to…”

Dana was becoming frantic. Struggling to maintain her calm, she assured her daughter, “No, no, Jolie. That isn’t what happened. Listen to me.” She took Jolie in her arms, guiding the girl into her lap.

“Pumpkin, you didn’t wet yourself,” she said, resting her hand on Jolie’s tummy. Without giving it too much thought, Dana lightly touched her daughter’s vulva. Sure enough, it was moist. “It’s not wee. It’s… it’s a special liquid that comes from you when that hunger comes. You use it to make yourself feel good when… here, I’ll show you.”

Coating a finger with dew, she slowly ran the tip of it up through the girl’s slit. Jolie immediately stopped sobbing and sat bolt upright. Her eyes slowly drifted shut, and she gave a blissful sigh.

Part of Dana was reminding her that a special place in hell was reserved for mothers who sexually molested their daughters. But another part was saying, Mummies make their daughters’ hurts go away. Your child needs this. It’s compassionate, not sexual.

Dana dipped her finger into Jolie again for more of her honey. It wasn’t really necessary, but for some reason she did it anyway. My God, she really is aroused. Did I get this wet when I was her age? She used her index finger to retrace the path through the cleft of Jolie’s pussy, noting how her daughter shivered deliciously with each stroke.

“See, this is all you have to do. Okay, you try it now.”

Jolie gave her head an emphatic shake. “No, Mummy. You. It feels good. It feels really, really, really good!”

With a silent prayer of God forgive me, Dana began to masturbate her daughter for real. She was no longer simply teaching the girl, but giving her relief.

There was something else, too.

Dana had divorced Jolie’s father when the girl was five, fed up with his numerous infidelities. The split had been an ugly one, leaving her fed up with men in general. After that, she had little interest in getting into another relationship, and then came Jolie’s accident.

From that day on, her time had been consumed with caring for her daughter. The amount of effort required was intense. Dana dedicated herself to looking after her precious Jolie, and chose to do it on her own. The girl’s situation left her unable to interact well with kids her own age – to them she was a child in every way but physically. On the other hand, kids of the same intellectual age were often uncomfortable around a girl who was so much older than they were.

And during all that time, nobody had been there to look after Dana. Except for Jolie, she was on her own at thirty-six. Her parents were both gone; her only sibling was a brother who had succumbed to a heroin overdose. As for Jolie’s father, she wanted nothing more to do with him.

All Dana and Jolie had in this world was each other. And usually, it was all they needed.

Most evenings, Dana simply collapsed into bed after settling Jolie down for the night. Tending to the child wasn’t physically demanding, but the emotional effort was often considerable.

Now, as she masturbated her daughter, Dana tried to recall the last time she’d done that for herself, and realised that she had no idea.

Dana felt an unexpected but incredibly powerful urge. Taking her hand away from Jolie’s sex, she gazed at the half-naked girl, seeing her daughter in a whole new way.

Jolie reacted at once, sitting up. “Aw, Mummy… why’d you stop? Please don’t – touch me more!”

Dana began to open her blouse. “Get undressed, pumpkin. Everything off.”

Jolie had no idea what this new game was, but she was happy to continue. She shrugged out of her t-shirt, then sat down and slipped off her socks. Now she was completely nude.

Her top and jeans now on the floor, Dana took off her bra and panties, then took a moment to appraise the lovely fourteen-year-old in front of her.

It had been a while since she’d last seen Jolie naked, and even then she’d never looked at her like this – as a lovely, desirable young woman.

Her daughter had ripened deliciously. She was tall for her age, with curves that most girls of that age could only wish for. Her breasts were upright and shapely, capped with pert, rosy nipples. She had long, slender legs and a flat belly. Her mound was adorned with a light patch of wheat-hued pubes, sparse enough for the crease of her slit to show.

Why didn’t I notice before? I knew she was pretty as a picture, but somehow she became sexy, too. “Oh, pumpkin… you’re so beautiful,” she whispered.

Jolie blushed, hotly, but was clearly pleased. “You are too, Mummy,” she said, looking Dana up and down.

Dana was still in good shape. She wasn’t carrying much excess weight, her tits were still where they were supposed to be, and her legs were firm and nicely contoured.

Her heart thudded as she studied Jolie’s face, losing herself in the warm brown of those adoring eyes.

All we have in this world is each other, Dana reminded herself. Would it be such an awful thing if I were to make love to her, just this once? After all, I want Jolie’s first orgasm to be one she remembers forever.

She weighed the idea, let it unfold in her mind. Maybe I could pretend she’s my lover for a few minutes – my underage lover. Okay, that’s sort of weird, but also… wilder, more exciting. 

Still gazing at her daughter, Dana made a decision.

“Lie down with your legs spread apart for me,” she said, her voice low and sensual.

Jolie happily obeyed, the girl’s eyes wide open as she watched her mum. She was curious as to what was going to happen, while also hoping for more of those lovely touches.

Dana stretched out next to her daughter. “I think you’re going to like this.” Reaching between Jolie’s legs, she began tracing the vaginal opening, her finger sliding through the girl’s moist labia.

“That’s good, Mummy,” Jolie cooed. “I like it!”

“Oh, my,” Dana said to herself. This was even more of a thrill than she expected. She was breaking the law of motherly conduct in a big way, yet it felt strangely right, somehow. It had been ages since she’d had sex with someone who truly, honestly loved her… and who she adored every bit as much.

Wanting to take Jolie even further, Dana allowed a finger to graze her daughter’s clit. “Oh,” she moaned. “Oh.”

Jolie’s clitoris was tiny – just a button, really. But she certainly responds when you touch it, Dana thought, then realised that she had no real basis for comparison. She’d played kissing games with other girls when she was in high school, but had never experienced lesbian sex. In a way, we’re both virgins, she thought with a smile.

Suddenly she realised that Jolie was bucking up and down on the bed, crying, “Mummy, oh, Mummy! Don’t stop – p-please don’t!”

Centering her attention on the task at hand, Dana carefully toyed with Jolie’s bud. She gave it a gentle flick, and her daughter squealed with delight.

Whatever doubts Dana had about what she was doing had vanished into thin air. Her child was caught up in the purest ecstasy, and she was making it happen. Whether it was right or wrong, Dana’s sole objective was to make Jolie feel good.

By then, her daughter’s labia was flushed a bright pink, her clit was noticeably erect, and a trickle of juice was oozing from her slit.

Jolie gasped. “Ooooh, Mummy, that f-funny feeling, it’s getting big…!”

Dana’s lips were barely touching her child’s ear. “Don’t you worry,” she whispered. “You’ll know all about it in a moment.” As if to fulfil a prophecy, Dana gave the girl’s clit a light pinch.

Jolie’s body began to shudder and she moaned. “It’s… it’s… ohhhhhh!”

As an orgasm ran through Jolie, Dana continued to masturbate her daughter. That climax began to subside, but another one came crashing down, and Jolie screamed.

Dana didn’t want to overdo it on the child’s first sexual experience. Her fourteen-year-old body could surely take it, but she wasn’t as certain about her daughter’s mind. She withdrew her hand, and Jolie went limp.

Even after her rapture had ebbed, Jolie needed a few minutes to recover. Dana held the girl close, gently rocking her to and fro.

Jolie’s eyes fluttered open. “What happened, Mummy? What was that? What did you do to me?’ Her eyes shone with awe.

Placing a kiss on the tip of her daughter’s nose, Dana jokingly said, “I think I made my baby girl feel good. Is that what I did, pumpkin?”

“You did, Mummy! It was… it was the bestest feeling ever!”

“And we can do it again, too. Lots and lots of times!” Dana was astonished to hear those words leave her mouth. Wasn’t this supposed to be a one-time thing? she asked herself.

“I’d like that, Mummy!”

But I don’t want to stop, she answered. It was lovely, the most fulfilling sex I’ve had in ages… and it’s brought me even closer to my daughter. No, I can’t give this up.

Dana gazed into Jolie’s enchanting blue eyes, a question rising to her lips, one she desperately longed to voice. Can I ask this of my own child? she wondered, torn between her conscience and the fierce need that pulsed through her body.

Making a decision, she spoke. “Jolie… do you think, maybe, you could do something like that for me? Make Mummy feel nice?”

Jolie all but sprang into a kneeling position. “I will! I love you soooo much, Mummy. You should get to have the good feeling, too!”

Bringing Jolie’s hand to her lips, Dana kissed it. “Thank you, my love.” She drew the girl’s bare body to hers. “That’s what you are, Jolie. My love. I’d do anything for you.”

“Me too, Mummy!” Jolie exclaimed. “So, um… can I give you the feeling now?”

Dana had to laugh. “Impatient, are we? Fair enough.” Stretching out on her back, she parted her legs, putting her vulva on display.

Nibbling her lower lip, Jolie studied her mother’s sex. “I… I just touch you here, huh?” Her index finger grazed Dana’s labia.

It felt divine. Shouldn’t take much to make me come, Dana thought. I’m at least halfway there. “Just like that, pumpkin.” She felt Jolie caress her open slit. “Oh, yes… that’s very nice.”

Jolie began to masturbate her mummy, the girl’s brow furrowed as she concentrated on the task at hand, determined to do her best. Dana had to ask her daughter a couple of times to be more gentle, but they quickly established a steady rhythm. Jolie didn’t know how to stimulate the clitoris, but that didn’t really matter to Dana – the girl’s finger continued to trace a pathway through her cunt, going a little deeper with every pass, pushing Dana to the brink of a climax she’d needed for years without knowing it.

Dana hadn’t made love since her divorce nearly eight years earlier… and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d pleasured herself. So when Jolie brought her to orgasm, it was like coming home.

In its aftermath, Dana felt herself glowing with pleasure – and love. Hugging her daughter tightly, she found herself crying.

Jolie’s eyes grew wide with concern. “M-Mummy?” she whimpered. Her lower lip began to quiver.

“I’m okay, pumpkin,” Dana hastened to say, taking a steadying breath. The last thing she wanted right then was to make Jolie cry. “These are happy tears, because I – I love you so much.”

Satisfied with the explanation, glad to have made her mother feel good, Jolie was content to nestle in Dana’s arms and have her face showered with kisses,

Without quite understanding why, Jolie felt a sudden urge to kiss her mother. So when Dana’s lips wandered near hers, she puckered up and gave Mummy a firm kiss on the mouth, the way men and ladies did it on TV.

Taken by surprise, Dana was first to break away. She stared at her daughter, whispering, “Oh, baby girl…”

I’m in love with her, she realised. God in heaven, I’m in love with my own child. 

Closing her eyes, Dana gave Jolie a feather-light kiss. Then another… and another.

“That’s nice,” Jolie said. “I like kissing you, Mummy.”

It was an opportunity Dana couldn’t allow to pass. “Do you? Well, then… how would you like to learn how grownups kiss? Then you and I could be lovers.”

Tilting her head, Jolie gave her mum a curious look. “We could? You mean, like you and me are girlfriends?”

Dana’s heart was racing, and she felt tingly and warm all over. “That’s right, pumpkin. If you want, we can be girlfriends.” She chuckled. “I like being lovers even more, though.”

Jolie giggled. “But that’s silly! How can you be my lover and my mum?”

Bending to kiss her daughter’s cheek, Dana nuzzled her way down to Jolie’s neck, touching her lips to the soft skin. “Let me show you how,” she murmured, rolling onto her back, carrying Jolie along so the girl was now on top of her.

“Ooooohh,” Jolie sighed, a shiver racing through her slender frame. “Okay, Mummy.”

Dana placed a line of kisses along the teen’s throat, then up to her chin. From there, it was the briefest of journeys to Jolie’s mouth. “I adore you, my darling child,” Dana whispered. She kissed her again, this time allowing it to linger. After a moment, she parted her lips, teasing her daughter’s mouth with a brief flick of the tongue.

Jolie responded by letting her own lips drift open… and when Dana’s tongue emerged again, the teen met it with hers, as if joining in Mummy’s game. Dana wasn’t sure what the girl’s response signified, but wanted to encourage her, so she engaged Jolie’s tongue in a sort of dance.

Soon her daughter was eagerly participating, and their tongues flickered back and forth. At that point, Dana began to make the kiss deep and sensuous – letting their mouths slide together, gently nibbling at the girl’s lower lip, purring with pleasure. It seemed to work, too. Jolie’s response suggested she understood that this was more than just casual play.

Finally, Dana put her hands to Jolie’s shoulders and pushed upwards, so the teen was looking down at her.

“You like kissing, do you?” she asked. “My baby likes to kiss?”

Too dazed to reply, Jolie stared at Dana, as if waiting for something more.

Dana rolled Jolie onto her back and kissed her again. This was firm and passionate, and her daughter hesitated before joining in – but she did, soon matching her mother’s ardour.

It’s time, Dana told herself.

Scooting down to the end of the bed, she grasped her daughter’s knees and pushed them apart. She glanced up to see Jolie’s face – the girl’s expression was one of eager curiosity, of expectation. Perhaps Jolie didn’t know what her mother was about to do, but she was keen to find out.

Dana studied Jolie’s sex as if for the first time. It was a deep pink, adorned by a sprinkling of soft pubes. The labia were slightly parted, a hint of wetness visible.

Still, Dana hesitated, well aware of never having done anything like this before. It was crossing a dangerous line, she knew that, but it no longer mattered. My poor damaged child… she’s got a mother who adores her, but she deserves more. A lover. Someone to worship her body as well as her soul. Who is society to tell me I can’t give Jolie that?

There and then, she made her decision. Damn whatever the rules say – I was meant for this.

Moving closer, she gave her daughter’s pussy a long, slow lick. She heard Jolie make a squeaking sound of surprise, perhaps even delight, but after that she was so caught up in the act of going down on her daughter that she couldn’t concentrate on anything else.

It wasn’t long before Jolie was coming again, her hands clenched to fists, crying, “Mummy, Mummy, oooohh M-Mummy I love you!”

Dana was giddy with joy, gulping down her daughter’s honey as it flowed from Jolie’s slit, then licking inside for more. Probing further, the tip of her tongue touched the membrane that guarded the girl’s virginity. She pushed against it, but was unable to go any deeper.

Only later would she have misgivings, or even give it much consideration. But at that moment, it seemed the only logical move.

Gazing at her dreamy-eyed girl, Dana crooned, “Do you trust Mummy, pumpkin?”

Jolie was too far gone to do much more than mumble, “Uh-huh.”

Dana reached for a pillow and slipped it beneath Jolie’s pelvis, then gently spread her daughter’s legs apart, feeling a delicious shiver when the vaginal cleft parted ever so slightly, exposing its bright pink interior. Placing her finger at the entrance, Dana slipped it inside, savouring the warmth and wetness of Jolie’s cunt.

When the tip of her finger rested against her daughter’s hymen, Dana took a deep breath to steady her nerves, then spoke. “I’m going to open you up inside, so we can play even more lovely games together. This might hurt, pumpkin… but only for a moment. Okay?”

“Okay, Mummy. I’ll t-try to be brave…”

Dana slipped her finger into the gap where Jolie’s monthly flow could get past, then pushed it inside with a single steady stroke.

“Ooooh!” the girl gasped, more in surprise than pain.

“Are you okay? Did that hurt very much?” A bit late now for that to be a concern, she admonished herself.

“No, Mummy. It wasn’t bad.”

Dana whispered, “Thank God.” She withdrew her finger until only the tip remained, then slid it back inside. Moving very slowly, she began to pump in and out, gradually increasing the pace.

“S-so full, Mummy!” Jolie exclaimed. “I… I like this!”

I’m fucking my daughter, Dana told herself.

A mere day earlier, she would have been horrified by the very thought. Now she was beside herself with happiness, astonished by how utterly right this felt.

Getting an idea, Dana turned herself around, bending over Jolie’s tummy. Now she could pleasure the girl’s cunt with her finger while sucking her clit.

A shivery moan escaped the teen’s lips, and her limbs began to tremble.

In very little time Dana’s efforts were rewarded – her daughter was climaxing again. She took Jolie through the rise and fall of ecstasy, then blessed her with a kiss.

“I adore you, my darling, darling child,” Dana whispered. “Now you’re Mummy’s little lover… and I’m going to make you the happiest girl in the world.”

“Love you, Mummy,“ Jolie sighed, barely able to get the words out before she fell asleep.

Dana lay quietly for a while, gazing at her daughter – her beautiful unique girl, so childlike, so perfect. After a while, she too drifted off.

***

When Dana awakened, there was still a hint of daylight outside – but the light wasn’t what had roused her.

She quickly realised that her legs were apart, and Jolie was lying between them, licking her pussy!

When she saw her mother was awake, Jolie raised her head. With a grin, she said, “You wanted me to do those things to you, Mummy… but I didn’t get to do this yet!”

Falling back on the bed, Dana gave herself over to Jolie’s love. The child was planting little kisses all over her vulva. There was no pattern, no way to guess where the girl’s lips or tongue would touch next – her mound, her clit, the cleft between her labia, the entrance to her cunt, even her perineum.

It was lovely, but too unfocused to get Dana where she needed to be. And by then, her need was acute.

“Lick me, pumpkin,” she gasped. “Like it’s a lollipop!”

Jolie’s kisses turned to licks, and the teen fell into a pattern – her tongue travelled from Dana’s hole through her labia, ending with her clit. Then Jolie licked again.

Without meaning to, Dana exclaimed, “Oh, fuck!”

Jolie’s face popped up. “You shouldn’t say that, Mummy,” she scolded. “That’s a naughty word!”

Dana looked at Jolie, fighting an impulse to laugh. “It’s okay when you’re making love, pumpkin. That’s what the word is for in the first place. You shouldn’t say it at school, or around grownups… but when we’re doing things like this, it’s okay.” Reaching out, she caressed her child’s face. “You say it, pumpkin. Say that word.”

Jolie stared at her mother, not certain what to think. “You want me to say that?”

“Just for me, honey. Please?”

Jolie shrugged, as if to say, These crazy grownups – what’ll they think of next? She whispered the word. “Fuck.”

“That’s it, darling. Say it again!”

She did, louder this time. “Fuck.”

“Again!”

Louder, now with a touch of confidence. “Fuck!”

“See, isn’t that fun?” Dana said. “Sometimes you should enjoy being naughty.”

“I guess.” Jolie decided to try it again. “Fuck!” she exclaimed, then burst into giggles.

“Okay, now let’s try something a bit different. Go back to licking me… but this time, say the word every time you take a lick.”

Jolie mulled the idea over. “And then you’ll get the good feeling again?”

“Oh, yes. I very much will.”

“Cool!” Delving back between her mother’s legs, Jolie took a deep breath. “Fuck,” she announced, then took a lick.

“Oh, God,” Dana moaned. “Oh, yes.”

“Fuck!” This time the teen said the wicked word right into her mum’s kitty, so she could give her a lick straight away.

“Fuck!” Lick.

“Fuck!” Lick.

That was enough to set Dana off. She exploded in an orgasm, one powerful enough to cause her to gush into Jolie’s face.

Oh, hell, she thought, expecting to hear a howl of protest from her daughter. Instead, she got a giggle.

“You wet yourself, Mummy. But it’s not wee, you said so!”

“That’s right, it isn’t,” said Dana. Sitting up, she drew her daughter close, claiming the girl’s mouth in a tender kiss. Jolie responded immediately, her tongue darting between Mummy’s lips, and their kiss went from gentle to passionate.

When they finally drifted apart, the starry-eyed girl whispered, “Am I really your little lover now? And we get to be girlfriends? Really and truly?”

“Yes, Jolie,” Dana murmured. “If that’s what you want… then so do I. More than anything.”

Suddenly animated, Jolie was all but bouncing in her mother’s arms. “I do want, Mummy!” she squealed. “I do!”

Dana touched her lips to the teen’s cheek. “Then that’s how it is, pumpkin. Forever and always.”

“Good,” Jolie cooed, then broke into a huge yawn.

“Oh, my… I know a certain girl who’s having an attack of the snoozies–” Then Dana was yawning herself.

“You too, Mummy!” Jolie gleefully replied. “We both got the snoozies!”

“Well, there’s only one thing to do about that.” Gathering up the scattered bedding as best she could, Dana covered their bodies. “C’mon, pumpkin. You’re staying with me tonight. Let’s get some sleep.”

“Okay.” Jolie nestled into her mother. “Night-night, Mummy. Love you.”

“Love you too, pumpkin.”

As her eyelids grew heavy, Dana was thinking about her special child. So innocent, an angel in the guise of a young girl. She hoped nothing had happened between them to spoil that innocence. Somehow, it seemed unlikely.

Her last thought before drifting off was I’ve got to be the luckiest mum in the world.

On to Part Two!

by Kinkychic

Many thanks to JS contributor BlueJean for editing this story.

***

From late July and right through August, I regularly went picking blackberries for my mother. She made the most gorgeous pies and crumbles with them, along with some added apples, of course. She also made pretty good wine, just as long as I’d picked enough. Most years, I picked anything up to fifty or sixty pounds. We had an extra freezer in the garage just for all the wild fruits I collected. Damsons, elderberries, and sloes added to the selection.

A couple of years back the crop hadn’t been as good as it usually was, so hoping to find a better area, I began to search further afield.

Boudica Way is a thirty-mile-long bridal way dating from the Roman occupation of Britain. A short walk from our house, it trailed through a stretch of woodland where I’d never ventured before. I decided to try my luck there, and very quickly found good clumps of brambles covered with large ripe berries. Even better, nobody else seemed to be picking along here.

I came to a point where a track ran off to the left, and being naturally inquisitive, wondered where it might lead. It wasn’t very far before my way was barred by a high metal gate. A notice hung in the centre: Private Property No Trespassing. Peering through the bars, I caught a glimmer of sun reflecting off water. There must be a lake down there, I thought. The area had many old and abandoned gravel quarries, and I guessed this might be one. The sign was probably only there for safety reasons.

My curiosity got the better of me. On either side of the gate was just dense shrub amongst the trees, and after a quick look and a bit of poking about, I soon found a way around.

The track leading away from the gate was fairly steep heading down, but very soon I saw it did indeed lead to a lake. My jaw dropped when I came through the trees and out into the open. Never had I seen such a stunningly beautiful vista. Thick, lush grass carpeted the landscape, dotted with a smattering of beautiful wild flowers in various colours. The lake in the centre was huge – maybe the equivalent of ten soccer pitches – and framed behind by high excavated cliffs. There were two reed and shrub covered islands towards the middle.

There didn’t seem to be anyone else around. Did I dare go down and take a look? Yes! So what if I was caught? What could they do to a thirteen-year-old?

I walked to the edge of the lake and found a small jetty with a little rowing boat tied to it. Fish swam about in the crystal clear water, and everywhere I looked there were dozens of ducks, as well as a large family of swans.

Past the lake, I followed the vague outline of a path that ran back towards the treeline, and a short ways in I was surprised to discover a flight of wooden steps that seemingly disappeared up into the trees.

Then I saw the treehouse hidden amongst the higher branches.

Not just any old treehouse, though – this one had a fenced ramp running from the steps that led up to a spacious veranda. The door and windows were all glazed and there were even wooden tiles on the roof.

I stood there peering up, amazed. What was this place? It was surely too big and elaborate to be a child’s treehouse. Did someone live here? Was this some rich family’s summer retreat? The whole place was a hidden paradise.

I resisted the urge to climb up and take a closer look – if it was someone’s home I didn’t want to get in trouble for trespassing.

I wandered off around the other side of the lake instead, and bingo! There on the edge of the trees were plenty of blackberry bushes bearing the biggest berries I’d ever seen. I’d hit the jackpot!

In no time at all I had two buckets so full I was struggling to carry them. It didn’t occur to me until then that I would have to carry the heavy load all the way home, which was at least a couple miles away. Eventually, I did manage it, but my shoulders were awfully sore the next day.

***

I began to visit the island on the lake every few days, and never did I see another soul on those occasions, except the ducks and the swans and the fish. Oh, and the wasps that buzzed around any over-ripe berries in my buckets, but they didn’t bother me much.

It was one particularly hot day out on the lake when I decided to sit and soak in the beauty of my surroundings for a while. I had already picked my berries for the day, so I went and hid my buckets in the shade of a tree, then walked back to where the steps led up to the treehouse. I sat there at the bottom where it was nice and cool, and looked out onto the clear water. An ideal spot to just chill out for a bit.

I was startled awake sometime later by a voice and realised I must have dozed off.

“What are you doing here? Didn’t you see the sign? It’s private property, you know. It says so on the gate.”

For a moment, I just stared at the girl who had spoken, rubbing my eyes sleepily and trying to gather my thoughts.

“I didn’t come through the gate,” I told her, then pointed in another direction. “I came in over there.” I no longer entered by the trackway. I’d found a shorter, though steeper route through the trees. I knew about the sign, of course, but I wasn’t going to tell her that. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t know it was private, honestly.”

We sort of stared at each other for a moment, neither of us quite sure what to say next. She was pretty, maybe a year or so older than me, I guessed. What really got me though, were her denim shorts – well, the lack of them, really. They were obviously a size or more too small for her. They had a ragged cut hem, and from where I was sitting I could just see the pink edge of her panties. The front of the shorts were tight and left almost nothing to the imagination. Her legs – oh wow, her legs! – were about half a mile long and utterly gorgeous.

“It’s rude to stare, you know,” she said with the hint of a smile on her lips. “Especially where you’re staring.”

I started to get up. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean any harm. Er… by being here, I mean.”

“It’s okay. You can stay, I suppose.” She plonked herself down next to me on the step. “You don’t seem to be the vandal type. So how did you find this place?”

I explained to her that I came here sometimes to pick a few berries, and that I liked to sit and watch the ducks. “I’m sorry if I’ve done wrong… but I guess I already said that, didn’t I?”

“Don’t worry about it. I don’t mind, but it’s just as well it was me that found you and not my father. He can be very harsh with trespassers, because of the damage they’ve caused in the past.”

Once again I started to say I was sorry, but she interrupted. “Stop apologising – I’ve said it’s okay. What’s your name, anyway?”

I saw her smile and felt myself relax a bit. “I’m called Bee. It’s not my real name, though.”

She giggled. “How lovely! But are you a nice bee or a stingy bee?”

I’d heard all the jokes before, of course, and they usually bored me, but I didn’t seem to mind it from her. I returned her smile. “Me? I’m a friendly bee. I never sting.”

Then she did something strange – well, strange for two teenagers, I suppose – held out her palm for a handshake. “I’m Davina. It’s nice to meet you, Bee – even if you are a trespasser.”

I instantly fell in love with the sound of her tinkling laughter. Not only did it have a musical quality, but it was also incredibly infectious. I couldn’t help but join in.

She told me all about the lake, how it was a long-abandoned gravel quarry. Her father had bought it almost twenty years ago and landscaped the whole place. She took me to a reedy corner and showed me where the ducks nested. Several had eggs in them. The swans nested on the other island, she told me.

I glanced at my watch and realised with some alarm how much time had flown by. “Davina, I really have to go. My mother will be fretting.”

She gave me a little pout of disappointment. “Oh. Perhaps you could come again tomorrow? Maybe around twelve o’clock?”

I heard the hope in her voice. She seemed to really want me to come back. “I’d love to,” I told her. “I can bring some sandwiches and stuff, if you like.”

She clapped her hands together. “Yes! And I’ll bring some drinks.” A flicker of doubt crossed her face and she reached out to touch my hand. “Promise you’ll come, Bee?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be here.”

I went to find my buckets. When I turned back, Davina was still there on the steps of the treehouse. She raised a hand to wave and then I made my way into the trees.

***

It was the school holidays, so Davina and I met every day at the same time. In only a few days, we became firm friends, and I was no longer a trespasser but a bonafide guest.

On every visit she wore the same style shorts as she had on our first meeting, and I was finding it very hard not to stare at her crotch when she sat on the grass in front of me. I’d known for over a year that I was only into girls, but Davina never gave any hint that she might be open to the same way of thinking. I was scared to spoil our friendship, so I resolved to behave myself. I just loved her company, and that would have to do.

It had been a month since our first meeting when Davina asked me, “Bee, would you like to see the island? Not the one with the swans – they can get a bit spiky when you go near their nests – but we can go to the other one.”

I told her I’d like to, and soon we’d collected a pair of oars from the boat shed and were making our way down to the little jetty.

“Have you ever rowed a boat before?” Davina asked me.

I hadn’t, and didn’t want to make a fool of myself in front of my new friend. “No. I’d prefer to just watch, if you can manage on your own. Maybe I can have a go coming back.”

I soon discovered that sitting in front of a girl wearing small, tight shorts while she rows a boat is quite the eye-opener. The gentle undulation of Davina’s pussy lips through the thin material as she went back and forth with the oars was making me tingle quite badly between my legs. By the time we reached the island I didn’t know what to do with myself.

“You’d best take your shoes off,” Davina said as the boat came to a stop. “We’re going to get wet feet here.”

Carefully we climbed ashore, and took the rope with us to tie the boat up safely. Everywhere seemed squidgy and wet underfoot until I followed her to the centre of the island where the ground was firmer.

Now we were in our own little sanctuary, the surrounding bushes hiding us completely from the outside world. We lay down in the soft, dry grass, the sound of ducks and other birds creating a sweet symphony in this slice of paradise.

Davina was still a little out of breath from her rowing, and I found myself staring again, this time at the rise and fall of her breasts, which were a fair bit larger than mine.

She suddenly got to her feet and my eyes followed her as she plucked a wildflower from the ground, then sat back down, closer to me now. I was surprised when she reached out and tucked it into my hair. “There – a beautiful flower for a beautiful girl.”

I felt the heat of a blush on my face. She laughed her wonderful laugh. “Bee, don’t say you’ve gone shy on me. I’ve noticed you don’t seem shy when I catch you looking.”

I startled at her words, then felt even more warmth infuse my cheeks.

“Oh yes, I’ve seen how you look at me,” Davina continued. “At first, I was a bit cross with you. I thought about ending our friendship, you know. After a while though, I realised that I was waiting for you to look, and then wanting you to look. Then today, in the boat, I saw you getting all hot, and I really liked what I was doing to you.” She blew out a breath of air. “There. I’ve said it.”

She stretched a knee back towards her head in a kind of yoga move, and when I turned to look at her – still trying to take in her words – her thigh was a few inches from my face.

If I still had any reservations, they now evaporated. I craned my neck slightly until my lips made contact with her knee. I let them linger there while my eyes locked on hers. For a long moment she lay there, simply looking. Then her fingers touched my cheek. “Bee…”

I sat up and leaned towards her. I saw both the wanting and the uncertainty in her eyes. “Davina, I’m going to kiss you. Please let me, don’t be scared.” Then my lips came to hers, gentle and loving.

Very slowly, she accepted my kiss. I felt her tremble beneath me, then she was kissing me back. I applied a little more pressure and she in turn pressed harder into me. My hand trailed to the nape of her neck, pulling her tighter against me. When the kiss became more urgent, I realised how much longing I’d built up for this beautiful girl. I hadn’t expected it to come to anything, but now, finally, she was in my arms.

But I felt her suddenly tense and pull away. I let her go, and she sat staring at the ground.

“Bee… I can’t. I’m too nervous. I think we should go.”

I put my arm back around her shoulder and gave it a soft squeeze. “I’m sorry, I went too fast. I know you’re new to this, but I love you. I don’t want us to leave things like this.”

Her eyes met mine. “You love me? You really love me? But we’re both…” Her voice trailed off.

“Girls? So? And yes – I really do love you.”

Some of the tension seemed to drain out of her. “I guess you’ve done this before, but I haven’t. I know I started it – I egged you on, and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”

I gently touched her arm. “Let’s just lay here a while. We can still be friends.”

She settled back into the grass alongside me, her shoulder just barely brushing against mine. We lay there like that for what seemed an age, not a word spoken by either of us.

Then I felt her fingers slowly hook into my own. I squeezed gently, mindful not to scare her again.

Still we said nothing, until eventually I heard her whisper, “You can kiss me again if you want. I don’t mind.”

I propped myself up on an elbow and leaned into her. “Are you sure? You can tell me to stop if you don’t like it, I won’t be upset.”

Davina smiled at me and murmured, “Kiss me, then.”

“I will. I want to so much.”

My finger traced her lips, back and then forth. She pursed them, kissing my fingertip tentatively. “Go slowly with me, please.”

I brought my lips softly to hers in the faintest hint of a kiss. “Close your eyes,” I whispered, then kissed her eyelids with another gentle caress, before peppering more upon her nose and across her cheeks.

Turning on my side, I gently pulled her towards me. We gazed into each other’s eyes. “I love you, Davina.” When I touched my lips to hers once again, she returned the kiss.

I brushed my fingers across her chin, lightly teasing the soft skin there, then trailing round to explore her ears and the nape of her neck. When my hand returned, I left it poised at the open neck of her top.

When Davina’s arm dropped across my back, I realised my t-shirt had ridden up and her hand had settled on my bare skin. For a second I thought she would pull it away, but her warm fingers remained where they were.

Pressing the kiss the merest fraction more, I felt her fingers move across my back, up beneath my t-shirt, a tentative exploration.

I fiddled with her top button, not really trying to undo it, just making her aware of what I wanted. Her hand had reached the nape of my neck, forcing my t-shirt even further up. I took that as a sign that she wanted me to go further.

I hooked the first button of her top through its eye, then rested my palm upon her upper chest, just above the swell of her breasts. Davina made no response, but our kiss seemed to intensify. My fingers slowly spread out across her skin until I found the top of her bra. Now I traced a fingertip along the edge and up the other side, then back towards the centre. I felt the fingers of her other hand touch my thigh, then settle there.

Her second button slipped easily through its hole. I seized the moment, lowering my hand until it rested upon the rise of a breast. My lips parted and I allowed my tongue to trace hers. Gently, ever so gently, I squeezed her breast, and was relieved to feel fingers dig a little harder into my neck and a hand close in on my thigh.

I hooked a finger beneath the thin strap of Davina’s bra and eased it slowly from a shoulder, then let it slip down her arm. My hand edged back, pushing the material away, and then I had a soft, bare breast in the palm of my hand. I sensed, rather than heard, a low moan from deep in her throat, so I pressed a little more firmly.

Now I could feel the nipple stiffen beneath my fingers. When I broke our kiss, her eyes fluttered open and regarded me with a lusty curiosity.

“I love you,” I told her again.

She smiled and pulled my head down alongside hers, so I nuzzled her ear with wet little kisses.

“Bee,” she whispered. “I… I’m all right now. Please… love me.”

She groaned aloud when I took a nipple between my fingers and rolled it back and forth. My mouth plied little kisses down her neck, into the dip of her throat, then over the swell of her breasts. I reached a nipple and flicked it with my tongue before closing my lips and taking it into my mouth.

The fingers on my thigh gripped harder. I lifted my leg and slid it over hers, pulling her closer, her hand caught between us. I wondered if she could feel the heat of my pussy on her skin.

Her nipple was fully stiff now as I suckled it, and I could feel her breathing increase in tempo. I undid the rest of the buttons on her top until I could push it open. My hand slipped behind to unclasp her bra, then went back to her top to try and ease a sleeve down. She understood my intention and her arm came out from under my t-shirt. Her sleeve pulled free, and the garment dropped behind her on the grass.

Davina was pulling at the front of my t-shirt. I lifted my head from a breast and let her drag the top over my head. I was about to bend back down but she held me there, peering at my budding titties.

“Beautiful… Oh, Bee, you’re so beautiful.”

I watched as she edged closer to plant soft kisses upon my nipples, first one, then the other. She leaned back, and a hand found me, fingers brushing to and fro. “So stiff…” she murmured.

My own hand was trailing across her tummy. I reached the top of her shorts, but knew I’d struggle to get inside – they were far too tight. Instead, I ran my hand over them, brushing lightly across the material. I could feel the curve of her lips, and pushed a little harder. Her body responded with a small tremor and a sharp intake of breath.

I rubbed up and down the cleft through her shorts while our mouths met in another kiss. Her other hand settled between my legs, her thumb pressing against my pussy. As much as I hoped for it, though, she didn’t move her hand at all. I think she may have been fully focused on what I was doing to her.

I sensed Davina’s passion rising, and knew that just rubbing through her shorts wasn’t going to be enough. I took hold of the fastener and tried to undo it, but it was far too stiff and I couldn’t manage with one hand. Then her fingers were on mine, and between the two of us we managed to push it open. I pulled the zipper down and eased my hand inside her panties.

Her shorts were very tight, but eventually I felt her pussy lips beneath my touch. She gasped as I pressed into her, my fingers barely able to move. I slid them up a little until I found her clit. Her body instantly tightened, and when she held her breath I knew she was close to coming.

I’d barely noticed how or when she’d managed to get inside the leg of my shorts until I suddenly felt her touch my pussy lips. I ground my hips down and forced her hand between them. Then I was rocking back and forth, massaging my clit on her fingers.

I felt the tremors thrum through her body as she clawed at my neck and shook her head from side to side, breaking our kiss. “B-Beeeee!”

I wanted to come too, but Davina was too far gone to be aware of my needs at that moment. I humped her fingers, rocking my hips faster and faster. I had enough sense left to remind myself not to pee, as I often do when I come – it would most likely shock her, besides making a mess of both our shorts.

I squeezed my eyes tightly shut as I strove for a climax, vaguely aware that Davina’s fingers were now between my pussy lips. I just knew they were something to use. I pumped myself up and down, fucking her hand as hard as I could.

I could hear Davina speaking to me from far away. “Are you going to orgasm, Bee? Please… do it for me.”

I arched my back, going rigid as I dug my toes into the soft, cool grass. She was trying to help, her fingers moving against me, and all at once I could feel the pee coming.

I rolled back, pulling Davina with me, her hand still grinding against my pussy. I wished she’d touch my clit, but it was too late – I was coming anyway. The tremors rocked me and I felt the familiar hot jet inside my shorts.

Slowly I came back to myself. God, how I had needed that.

I opened my eyes when her lips touched mine in a soft caress. She was peering at me, and all I saw there was love. No shock, no regret – just love. She brought her head down alongside mine and kissed my neck. Her fingers were still inside me.

I heard her giggle and asked, “What’s funny?”

“I never believed I’d have my hand on a girl’s pussy. Now I don’t want to take it away.” She laughed again. “Did you know you’re soaking wet? I think you peed yourself.”

I felt myself blush a little. “Sorry, I do that sometimes when I come. I tried to control it, but… well, it just happens.”

Davina seemed amazed. “I made you come? I thought maybe I had but I wasn’t sure.” She paused for a moment before continuing with a smile, “I did make you come, didn’t l? Oh my God, it was so wonderful. Thank you, Bee.” Then she leaned in to kiss me again.

When she sat up, her breasts were free and bare, but she didn’t seem shy at all. She glanced down at my shorts, then her own. “Do you think we should take them off to dry them out?”

One of my dreams had come true today – I’d made this beautiful girl come. Now I’d get another: to see her naked. I lifted my hips to push my shorts down, but she stopped me.

“Let me.”

She gave them a tug, slipping the damp material down my legs and pulling them away to hang across a bush. When she peered back at me, her gaze travelled down to my panties. It was hard not to notice the gleam in her eyes. Her fingers hooked into the elastic and drew them down, the faintest hint of a grin teasing the corners of her mouth. She paused briefly when my pussy first came into view, her eyes flashing, then continued to tug them down.

When she looked up and saw that I was watching, her cheeks filled with colour. She turned away to hang my panties alongside my shorts.

“Now yours,” I said, reaching for her. She grabbed my hands, and I thought she was going to stop me, but when her hips lifted she helped me wiggle her shorts down. As small and tight as they were, her panties came down with them.

I threw Davina’s shorts aside without thinking, instead of hanging them out to dry, but on an impulse I brought her panties to my face. She put a hand to her mouth in shock as I breathed in deeply, taking in her wonderful aroma. I giggled and threw them back at her. She went to catch them but they landed on her head. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she bunched them up in her hands and then dropped them on the grass.

“I think you’re a perv,” she laughed.

My eyes took in her naked beauty. God, she was divine – everything I could have wished for. I was already moving down between her legs as I replied, “You better believe it.”

Then my mouth was upon her lovely pussy lips.

Davina gave a little squeal of surprise, but made no attempt to stop me. “Bee! What’re you…” Then my tongue found her clit. “Oh! Oh my God!”

I gave her little nub a long, slow lick. Her legs opened wider and she pulled her feet up towards her body, leaving me framed between her knees.

After licking her pussy for a while I sat back on my haunches. “Well? Is it good?”

“Do it again…” she said in a hushed tone, then pulled my head back between her legs.

I didn’t need telling twice. But first I wanted to see inside those lovely little lips. My fingers spread her open. Her pee hole peeped out at me and the flesh deeper into her vagina glistened with sticky dew. I slipped two fingers through her folds, then slowly eased them inside.

Now that there were no tight shorts to hinder my exploration, I settled into a nice slow fuck. Davina gave a brief jolt when I returned my mouth to her clit, but I sucked more gently this time, aware of how sensitive she’d be after coming. She peered down at me, her top lip curled in a little snarl. I heard her swear for the first time. “Fuck, that’s good…”

I gathered up one of her legs with my free hand and brought it to rest across my shoulder. She did the same with her other leg. Any inhibitions she might’ve had were now long gone – she’d given herself to me completely.

I had access to her beautiful arse now, but had to remind myself to go cautiously. I couldn’t resist touching her there, though, and allowed my hand to trail its way across her thigh until I was cupping a cheek. I kneaded her there a while, inching slowly towards the centre where I briefly let my thumb graze her hole. She tensed at the contact, but I’d already moved on.

Davina’s body seemed to be coiling tighter, her passion rising, so I fucked her pussy a little faster, probing different points to see where I might get a reaction. Her vaginal walls clamped down over my fingers, and I knew I’d found a particularly sensitive spot. Her hips thrust forwards, urging me on as I tickled her there.

The trembling throughout her body was a clear sign that she was ready to come again. I trailed a finger through the crack of her arse, then spun the tip in little circles over the rosebud, all the while still fucking her pussy.

Her thighs gripped my neck tightly, and I could feel the spasm of her pussy clutching and releasing, clutching; releasing. When she let out a long, low moan of desperate pleasure, it was clear she was in the throes of climax, so I slipped a finger into her arse, knowing she was in no state to protest, even if she’d wanted to. I took her clit into my mouth and sucked hard until she lost control, wailing incoherently. Somehow I managed to keep hold of her as she thrashed against me, driving her orgasm on and on.

There was one last surge before she collapsed, spent, lying limp beneath me. I was worn out too, my energy sapped by Davina’s violent struggles. I lay my head upon her tummy, my finger still buried inside her pussy.

I could feel her stroking my hair. “Bee, come here. Let me hold you,” she murmured.

I slipped out of her, then crawled up into her waiting arms. They wrapped around me and pulled me close, and then we were lying quietly together – the silence of lovers wholly content in their embrace.

Finally, she spoke. “Bee, I never knew… So beautiful. I’m so happy.”

“I know, my love.” I kissed her softly, then sat up. “We ought to go, it’s getting late.”

“But I want to try and love you, just like you did to me. Let’s stay a while longer.”

“We have tomorrow,” I told her with a smile. “Tomorrow you can love me. Let’s go.”

I managed to row the boat back across the lake (not too badly for my first time, I didn’t think), and this time it was Davina’s turn to stare, even though my shorts weren’t quite as revealing as hers.

“I think you’re a bad influence on me,” she told me with a little smirk. “I never would’ve imagined wanting to look between another girl’s legs before you came along.”

A short while later we were lingering on the path to Davina’s treehouse, clinging together in a passionate kiss. Finally we parted, said our goodbyes, then headed our separate ways.

“Davina!” I called after her. “Will you wear a dress or a skirt for me tomorrow?”

She laughed at that, then gave me a wave before disappearing from sight.

Tomorrow seems such a long way off, I thought as I made my way home. I smiled to myself as I remembered the first time I’d discovered this secret place. I came to look for berries, but found a mysterious treehouse and a beautiful girlfriend as well.

Thank God for blackberries!

The End

by Rachael Yukey

“Which way?” said Terry, easing the ambulance towards the boat landing exit.

“Take a right on Pine Point,” I said. “It’ll run straight into County Two, then you’ll go left. If I’m right about where we’re going, it’ll be maybe a quarter mile from there.”

“Thanks for not telling Jeff the whole story,” said Terry. “I didn’t want to reach the point of being asked where we’re getting our information. Until we manage to sort out the good guys from the bad guys, I don’t want to get within shouting distance of Halee’s name being brought into this.”

“For what it’s worth, I was thinking the same thing,” I told him.

Terry smiled, shaking his head. “You know, the extent to which we’re on the same page in most situations, without even having to discuss it, is pretty amazing.”

As he signaled left onto County Road Two, a stretch of gravel wider and in better repair than Pine Point Road, I regarded him bitterly.

“Except when it comes to us, right?” I said. Instantly I regretted letting that slip out. I wasn’t even sure what I wanted with Terry, but it seemed at this point we were struggling to even maintain a friendship. And that wasn’t exactly his fault, was it?

Terry shrugged. “Maybe. I’m going to throw out there that you seem extraordinarily allergic to letting anyone get too close, and I am damned if I’m going to chase you down every time you freak out and pull a runner.”

I felt tears sting the back of my eyelids. Hurt and angry, I indicated an upcoming mailbox. “There’s the address George gave us,” I said stiffly. “The field approach should be just past it.”

Terry eased off the gas, letting the rig coast down. He cut hard left so the ambulance was blocking most of the road, then backed into the approach, leaving plenty of room on the right for a second ambulance.

“Any idea where this road George was talking about might be?” he said.

I pointed towards a steep incline in the direction we’d been going.

“There’s what’s left of an old road, with a padlocked chain across the entrance, at the top of that hill,” I said. “Once everything greens up this summer, you won’t even notice it’s there when you’re driving by. I’m not sure, but I think that’s it.”

We fell silent for a few minutes.

“You’re not always so easy to get along with yourself, you know,” I said at last.

The corners of Terry’s mouth quirked upwards. “Think so?”

“It’s impossible to get you to be serious for five minutes,” I said. “And no matter where you are or who you’re with, you always think you’re King Shit of Turd Mountain. I think what worries me the most about you becoming ambulance director is that your head will get even bigger than it already is.”

Terry snorted. “My dear, you needn’t worry. Should it swell any larger, I won’t be able to enter my house.” Then he sobered. “Has it occurred to you that maybe we’re a lost cause? Your refusal to face your demons irritates me, and my narcissistic tendencies annoy you. The combination seems to mostly create friction.”

Before I could formulate a reply, the second ambulance arrived. Nate Hauss was driving, with Scott O’Brien in the shotgun seat. Scott was 25, a gangly man with straw-colored hair that he kept slicked back in a 50s-style duck’s ass cut. He’d attended EMT class with Terry.

“We brought extra hands,” Nate informed us through open windows, after he had backed his rig in next to ours. “Stacy and Jessie are in the back. I figured if it was big enough they wanted two trucks, we might need ’em. Does anyone know what the hell’s going on?”

“Just be ready for anything,” I said.

“Good thinking on bringing extras,” Terry called out.

It was only moments later that a procession of vehicles rounded the bend and came into view. Three police cars, various fire/rescue vehicles including the raggedy old rescue squad ambulance, and half a dozen ATVs. They rolled past us, some of them waving, and ascended the hill that I’d pointed out to Terry.

Spreading out along the edge of the gravel towards the top of the hill, they hastened to get organized. A firefighter carrying a heavy set of boltcutters stepped into the woods, then reappeared a moment later. The big yellow 4×4 Fire Department pickup eased itself into the pine. A firefighter was driving, George Fronse was in the shotgun seat, and two of the deputies were standing in the bed, clinging to the lightbar bolted across the top of the cab. The ATVs followed.

After five minutes that felt more like five years, Fronse’s voice crackled across the airwaves.  “Chief One to all units. Smaller vehicles can follow. It’s rough, so exercise caution, but there’s nothing any of you shouldn’t be able to penetrate. We have the auction pit in sight, and are awaiting the remaining officers before entering the valley.”

A flurry of acknowledgements came in, and one of the Sheriff’s Department cruisers disappeared into the trees, followed by a few other cars and smaller vehicles. The rescue squad ambulance remained parked by the side of the road at the top of the hill.

“Riddle me this,” said Terry, breaking through the tense silence that had fallen between the two of us as we listened to the radio chatter and waited. “Why don’t they replace that old beast with a Suburban or something? Rescue isn’t licensed to transport anyway, so all they need is a vehicle to carry medical supplies. An SUV would go a lot more places than an ambulance will.”

“Some rescue squads have gone over to SUVs,” I said. “Just none of the ones that overlap Bronning’s service area. I don’t see rescue here in town spending that kind of money anytime real soon. They just don’t roll all that often, because we have the EMS service right here.”

Terry pursed his lips and nodded. “Fair point,” he acknowledged.

“Chief One to 304,” George Fronse’s voice crackled on the radio, hailing one of the deputies.

“This is 304,” came the response.

“We’re in sight of the building. The front door is unbarred, and there’s been a lot of foot traffic through here. I’m also seeing what looks like an ATV trail going back into the woods. Someone’s been using this place for something. Is the pit area secured?”

“Copy, we’re secure back here.”

“Chief One to Bronning Medic.”

That meant me. I represented the highest available level of care, and that left me in charge of the EMS team.

“This is Rig Two,” I said into the mic.

“You can move in. The ambulances should make it down the hill all right. Your cold zone is the auction pit. Prep your triage there, and do not proceed beyond that point.”

“Rig Two to Rig One,” I said into the mic as Terry pulled forward onto the gravel, “did you copy that?”

“We copy,” said Nate.

At the crest of the hill, the old road became visible. The foliage was beaten down, crushed by the small parade of vehicles that had passed. Terry eased gently into it, immediately finding himself on a downslope, and doing his best to remain on the existing tire tracks. In the side-view mirror I could see the second truck following at a careful distance, the rescue squad rig bringing up the rear.

The road wound its way deeper into the morass of trees. It was rough, but not rutted or dangerously sloped. It took a full five minutes before the trees began to clear, and up ahead we could see the overgrown, weed-choked remains of an auction pit half the size of a football field. The cattle stand at one end had collapsed in on itself, but the auctioneer’s box still stood. Rusty steel bleachers surrounded the pit on three sides. The two deputies who had brought the cruiser in were waving us around to an opening through which we drove the ambulances into the center of the circle. Perhaps fifty yards beyond the far set of bleachers, a red-brick building stood, with the various rescue vehicles spread out before it.

Terry drove through the pit opening and brought the rig around in a wide arc, coming to a stop facing the exit. Nate did the same, and the rescue ambulance came in last. I recognized the driver of the rescue rig as Brenda Smith. A burley, short-tempered woman with tattooed arms and short hair dyed jet-black, Brenda is the only female on the Bronning fire squad.

As we all got out of our rigs, an ATV approached with a firefighter driving. Brian Severson. “Fronse sent me over here because I’m an EMR,” he said. “Brenda is, too. He said we should do whatever you guys tell us to.”

“All right,” I said, as my temporary command formed a circle with me as the focal point. “I don’t know what we’re going to be dealing with here, and if we’re lucky it’ll turn out to be nothing. I will tell you that we think it might be related to the rash of odd overdose cases we’ve had lately. If you see any of the hallmark symptoms, I’ll be calling on all of you to give the patients your best supportive care until I can get to them, because any effective interventions are outside your scope. If there’s just too many, we’ll get intercepts coming and hit the road. The first truck to go will roll for Melville, but if they don’t have ALS rigs left to intercept with you, choose the next closest facility that still does.”

I thought fast for a moment, trying to anticipate all possible contingencies. I was grateful for the fifty-five degree weather. It wasn’t exactly balmy, but it was warm enough that I wouldn’t have to worry too much about exposure.

“We also need to keep in mind that we have an unknown situation developing ahead,” I went on. “Brian, am I correct in assuming that the Chief is going to have fire hang back while PD secures the building?”

“That’s right,” said Brian.

“We have no idea what they’ll be walking into,” I said, “and we may end up with traumatic injuries to deal with. If there’s more than a handful, we’ll have to set up triage.”

I glanced around the little group, wondering who to choose for this most painful of tasks. The answer, when I arrived at it, was obvious.

“If it comes to that,” I said, “Terry is triage officer.”

“Why him?” said Nate. He looked Terry in the eye. “No disrespect, but those are our families sticking their necks out over there. Not yours.”

Terry started to say something, but I cut him off. “That’s why I picked him,” I said, deliberately putting an edge into my voice. “Do you really want to look at people you’ve known your whole life and decide who we’re not going to treat, Nate? I’m probably the only person here who’s ever had to do triage, and it’s bad enough when it isn’t people you know. Terry’s got the job, and that’s final.”

Nate’s jaw hardened, but he held his peace.

“Terry,” I said, “if it turns out there’s more patients than we can handle, I’m also going to have you serve as transport officer… it goes hand in hand with triage. You’ll get in touch with the hospitals and EMS services, determine who has how many trucks and ED beds, and decide which trucks go to which facilities. Also keep in mind the location of definitive care. For example, if we have a burn victim, you’ll want to get them moving south, because that’s the direction of the nearest burn center. Probably to Johnstown for stabilization, and then they’d transfer from there. Also keep helicopters in mind as an option, but it looks like we have some rain coming in, so they might no-go.”

Terry nodded. “Got it.”

“Brenda,” I said, turning my attention to the firefighter, “does the rescue rig still have that old manual cot in it?”

“It’s there,” said Brenda, “but it doesn’t work. The legs won’t extend.”

“Who cares? Make sure it’s clear, and the bench seat too. We can at least lay a couple of patients in there and have heat blowing on them.”

What I didn’t say was that if there were too many patients and it came to it, I’d put one of the EMTs in the back of that truck with an EMR driver, send it on its way to the hospital, and deal with any repercussions later.

“One last thing,” I said. “If shit does get real, remember where your place is. No matter what’s happening out there, we stay here. Patients get brought to us; we do not go to them. If any one of you gets hurt, that both costs us a provider and gives us an extra patient. We stay put no matter what. If the cops tell us to retreat, we leave, no questions asked.”

I looked around the group. Their faces were mostly scared and pale. Even for the more seasoned EMTs like Nate, this sort of situation was miles beyond the experience of a small-town volunteer.

I forced a smile. “Of course,” I added, “more than likely there’ll be a minor dustup, nobody will get hurt, and I’ll buy everybody a drink this evening. You can all have a good laugh at my expense. Now if there are no questions, get your rigs set up. Have airway adjuncts out and on the bench, and make sure your trauma supplies are easily accessible. Terry, you’ll want to go through your triage kit. Let’s go.”

I rapidly handed out truck assignments, and everybody split off towards their respective rigs. Nate caught my arm. “Look,” he said in hushed tones, “about Wilder being both triage and transport officer…”

“No arguments, Nate,” I said, cutting him off. “I’m sorry you’re not happy, but…”

“It’s not for the reason you think,” said Nate. “I’ve got my problems with Terry, but that’s not what this is about. The thing is, he’s the best EMT out here, except maybe for me. Making him transport officer basically means he’s not doing patient care, and if this gets bad we’re going to need him.”

“All the on-scene care will be for nothing if we don’t get people where they can be helped,” I said. “I don’t trust Stacy, Jessie, or Scott to keep it all straight. It’s Terry or you. You’re both good EMTs, but you’ve got experience on him. That might just make a difference in keeping people alive, so I want you on patient care no matter what.”

Nate thought about that for a moment, gave me a respectful nod, and trotted off for his rig.

Minutes later we were huddled in our ambulances, waiting and listening to the radio chatter as the cops closed in on the old building. The police had been joined by Fronse’s one underling on the Bronning force, a part-time cop named Wes Hamilton. Wes had been in Melville when George got in touch with him, and drove back as fast as his Chevy Malibu could be pushed.

Nate and Brian had wanted to be outside, where they could at least try to see what was happening, but I nixed the idea. It was safer in the ambulances, and I didn’t want them already chilled if they ended up having to do any patient care outdoors.

I’d split my forces into three crews. The rescue ambulance had Brian Severson and Scott O’Brian; an EMR and an EMT. The lowest-acuity patients would go there. If the rig ended up having to transport, there would be an EMT to take the back, and an EMR to drive. Rig One would consist of Nate Hauss, Terry Wilder, and Brenda Smith. With Brenda driving that put the two best EMTs in the back, making for the most effective possible BLS truck if there were more high-acuity patients than I could handle. Rig Two would be Stacy Logan, Jessie Kramer and me. Jessie was inexperienced, and Stacy was, as Terry had once memorably proclaimed, a twit… but either of them would make an acceptable assistant for me while the other drove.

I could see Terry in the shotgun seat of the other ambulance, talking into his phone. I guessed he was preemptively checking status with emergency departments and EMS services, and possibly flight. Smart lad.

PD was in the building now. They reported that the place had been cleaned, tables had been set up, and there was portable light and heat equipment in several rooms. But nobody was there. The quiet radio chatter as they cleared one room after another did nothing for my nerves.

Suddenly Wes Hamilton’s voice crackled through on the radio, low and tense. “Bronning PD Two to Chief One.”

“Go for Chief.” George.

“We’ve got seven kids in here, boss. Last room at the end of the east hallway. Teenagers; three girls and four boys. They’re tied up, hands and feet both, and they’re not very responsive. I think they’re all breathing, but there’s something wrong with them. We’ve gotta get ‘em out of here.”

I tensed. Sitting next to me in the shotgun seat, Stacy Logan bit her lip. I could hear Jessie shifting around in the back.

The radio crackled. “Anything else in the room?” George wanted to know.

“Affirmative. There’s some crates stacked against the wall, a big pile of something under a tarp, and a bunch of different colored pressure cylinders. What about the kids, Chief?”

“We’re on it,” said Fronse. “We just cleared the last room on the ground floor. I’m posting a guard at the basement stairway, and we’ll get the kids out before we go down there. Fire, please bring the pickup and the Rangers to the main door. We’ll lay as many in the back of the pickup as we can fit, put the rest in the Rangers, and haul them over to the EMS cold zone. Come in with soft cots, backboards, and plenty of bodies. Let’s not drop these kids getting them outside.”

I picked up the mic. “Medic to Chief One.”

“Go for Chief.”

“Let’s make sure everyone is keeping an eye on the kids‘ airways. If somebody doesn’t look like they’re breathing well, try repositioning. Make sure the airways are clear. If you can, transport them lying on their sides. If you’re not sure if someone is breathing, check for a carotid pulse.”

“Copy that,” said Fronse. “Folks, you heard the lady. Let’s get everybody out of there alive. Fire, go ahead and move in.”

Terry’s voice issued forth from the radio. “Bronning ambulance to Franklin County.”

“Go ahead, Bronning.”

“We are about to receive seven high-acuity patients; teenagers with an altered level of consciousness. Cause unknown at this time, but we only have one ALS crew. I need five ALS ambulances paged; two from Johnstown, and one each from Jordan, Melville and Perry. Some will be intercepting, and some might have to come all the way to the scene. Can you give me a separate county channel to coordinate with them on?”

“Copy that, Bronning. Take FC4 to coordinate with ALS crews. Did you want us to check the status of flight?”

“Negative; I’ve already checked,” said Terry. “Both Lifelink and North are a no-go for weather.”

“Copy that, Bronning.”

As I listened to the flurry of ambulances being paged out to our location, I couldn’t help but be impressed by how well Terry had the transport situation under control. He really would make a great director.

“Bronning ambulance Rig One to Rig Two,” said Terry.

“Go for Rig Two,” I replied.

“Can you handle two patients if it turns out to be the recent overdose symptoms?”

“Affirmative.”

“Are we considering the Rescue rig as a transporting unit if push comes to shove?”

You read my mind. “Affirmative. They have a licensed EMT in the back; that’ll have to be good enough.”

“Copy that,” said Terry. “You’ll roll for Melville with two. I’m having the rig from Melville come all the way to the scene because their travel time is a little less than the others, and Rig One will roll with one patient towards Johnstown for an intercept with Thormleton. I’m reserving options on the Rescue rig and remaining ALS rigs until we get a look at the patients. I’m thinking I should remain on scene and direct traffic.”

“Copy,” I said. “Remain on scene. You’re doing great, Terry–”

A tremendous thunderclap rang out through the valley. Even in the vehicles, we felt the vibrations as the ground shook. Jessie let out a small yelp from the back, and Stacy’s eyes went wide.

“What the hell?” she said.

“Chief One to all units still inside the building, say your status!” Fronse’s voice barked out over the radio.

“Chief, this is PD Two,” a choked, gasping voice came back. “We have casualties in here. D-don’t know how bad. There’s a lot of smoke and dust, and I can’t see much. I – I’m hurt, Chief, can’t move my leg…”

“We’ll have people coming in for you,” said Fronse. “Anybody inside who can walk, get out of there now! We’ll send fresh teams in to extract the wounded. Chief One to Bronning Medic, we’ve had an explosion in the building. Four of the kids were still inside, along with two officers and eight firefighters. The kids we extracted appear to be coming around, so we’re going to wait until we have more people out to send them your way. Stand by.”

“We copy, Chief,” I said. “Standing by.” I switched channels on my portable. “Bronning Medic to EMS team.”

“Rig One,” Nate responded.

“Rescue,” said Scott.

“Sounds like we’ve got some trauma coming our way. As they show up, the triage officer will evaluate them before they’re unloaded from whatever they’re being transported in. His decisions on treatment priority are final. Everybody stay in your rigs until the first casualties arrive. Any last-minute questions?”

“Rig One copies, no questions,” said Nate.

“Rescue, no questions.”

I worked to keep my outward demeanor calm, and I think I was successful, but my guts were in knots. My father was amongst the firefighters who had approached the building.

We didn’t have long to wait. Barely a few minutes went by before the yellow pickup barreled through the entrance to the pit, jouncing on its stiff suspension. Two Ranger ATVs followed. I could see people sitting up in the back of the Rangers. I popped the door of the rig and slid to the ground, noting as I did that the remainder of my staff were piling out of their trucks as well.

“Go time, people!” I called out, as the pickup swung around behind the ambulances and shuddered to a halt. “Triage officer out front!”

Terry was already moving, approaching the back of the pickup at a fast walk. A firefighter perched in the bed of the pickup hopped over the side and lowered the tailgate.

“Can I have everyone’s attention,” Terry bellowed as he reached the tailgate. “Any injured people who can walk, go around to the passenger side of the pickup and hold tight. We’ll get to you as soon as we can.” Catching Jessie Kramer’s arm, he pressed a bundle of green armbands into her palm. “Give these to the walking wounded so we know who they are.”

The injured in the Rangers got out, then made their way around to the side of the truck. Some were limping, others were clutching their arms, and I could see signs of minor bleeding. Jessie gave the handful of tags to one of the men there, along with a few words of instruction. The man passed the tags around, and the walking wounded began wrapping them around each other’s arms. The Ranger drivers pulled away, headed back for the old brick building to collect more wounded.

I turned my attention to the pickup, where all of the critical cases appeared to be. A number of bodies were in the back, some strapped to longboards, others with soft stretchers beneath them. Terry and two firefighters were standing in my way, so I couldn’t get a good count or identify any of the people there.

The firefighters pulled one of the victims from the pickup bed and onto the tailgate, where Terry had placed his triage kit. Nate tried to press forward, but I placed a restraining hand on his arm. The man on the tailgate was conscious. Terry spoke briefly to him in a low voice as he quickly examined a wound on the left leg. He wrapped a yellow tag around the wrist, indicating an injury that was serious but not immediately life-threatening.

“Rescue rig,” he said briskly, and two firefighters closed in along with the Rescue rig’s crew. The four of them picked up the backboard where the man lay and carried it off toward the ancient rescue ambulance. Another was moved to the tailgate. It was Del Williams, the firefighter who had driven the ambulance on the Jason Bixley call. He was bleeding profusely from an arm wound, and seemed to be unresponsive. Terry shoved a tourniquet at Brian Severson, who was standing by his side, and vigorously rubbed the sternum. Del stirred a little and opened his eyes. As Brian tightened the tourniquet, Terry wrapped a red tag around the arm.

“Rig One,” he said. Nate stepped forward, and Terry put a hand on his arm.

“Take this one to Melville,” said Terry. “There’s an intercept coming from there, but if he’s stable don’t use it. We’re going to need more trucks than we have.” Nate nodded once, took up one of the longboard handles, and with the help of Brian and two others bore the man away. Stacy stepped forward to take Brian’s place as Terry’s assistant.

The next victim was pulled back to the tailgate, and my heart froze in my chest. The man on the soft stretcher was my father. Most of his shirt was in tatters, angry burns swathed his chest, and his face had taken on a waxy, grayish hue. Terry placed two fingers on the neck, feeling around for a carotid pulse as he bent his ear close to the mouth, listening for breathing. Casting a quick, pained glance back at me, he wrapped a black tag around the arm.

“Black,” he said.

It hit me like a punch to the gut. No. No. NO.

“Wait,” Stacy said urgently, turning back to look at me. “Nettie… they said all these people were breathing when they pulled them out. There might be time…”

My vision swam. It was an effort to think. Daddy! my mind screamed. It took every ounce of discipline I possessed to push it aside.

“Black, goddammit!” I shouted.

Gentle hands lifted my father from the tailgate, laying him in the grass off to the side even as the next victim was brought forward.

As he assessed the next patient, Terry spoke sidelong to Stacy. “Get off my triage,” he told her, his voice ice-cold. Stacy stumbled back, looking hurt and offended. Terry was wrapping a red band around an arm.

“Hey, Terry,” Nate was calling from the back of his rig. “Del’s awake, and his BP’s solid. I could take one more if it’s non-critical.”

“Stand by, then,” Terry called back. “Rig two,” he told the attendant firefighters, indicating the patient in front of him. I blinked in surprise; the young lady in question was none other than Samantha Jensen, who I’d almost lost on that hellish ride to Melville. My jaw clenched. Goddamn it, girl… wasn’t one bad trip enough for you? One of the firefighters was holding pressure on her abdomen with a big dressing, which was thoroughly saturated with blood. Terry turned toward me.

“She’s lost a lot of blood, and I’m seeing signs of smoke inhalation, Nettie,” he said. “She needs to go ALS, and she needs to go now. Can you do this?”

My eyes narrowed. I hated the look of pity on his face.

“Stacy, Jessie, let’s go,” I snapped. “Stacy, you’re driving.”

“Roll for Johnstown,” Terry called after us.

As I entered through the side door of my rig, I caught a glimpse of the Rangers swinging back through the entrance to the auction pit, more victims sprawled in the back. I turned my eyes away, not wanting to see who was in those Rangers. I thought that if I had to look at one more person I knew who’d been fucked up, I would scream. I slammed the door, then dropped heavily onto the bench seat.

On to Chapter Eleven!