Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

by Emma

Chapter Five: Come for Mommy, Little One

“All right, girls,” Miss Ashcroft announced, briskly clapping her hands. “Mommies need some wine and nighttime air, and the space to say cruel and tender things about you where you can’t hear.” She bent to give my cheek the softest of pecks, almost as reassurance that she wouldn’t be too harsh in her gossip. “Be darlings and play nicely, but I want someone crying happy tears when we come back.”

With a kiss lazily blown into the room, she turned and swanned through the patio doors, glass in hand, followed by Miss Evangeline and Miss Rowan in a slow, decadent procession. All three of them were naked, casually so, like goddesses at a garden party run by Circe The scent of lemon verbena and honeysuckle curled through the air, laced unmistakably with sweat and sex.

And in their wake: unsupervised us.

Bunny dropped to all fours with a yip, wriggling her bunny-bottom as she scrambled after the twins, who were already circling her like cute baby wolves. One sniffed at her bottom, the other licked a shiny stripe across her face, and Bunny just giggled, her tongue out and her ass shifting from side to side like it was mulling things over.

“I’m ready!” she yipped, rolling over onto her back and pawing at the air, her legs spread shamelessly.

The dining room exploded with high-pitched arf–arfs and the sound of eager, lolling tongues finding purchase on whatever princess parts they could reach. One of the twins licked messily at Bunny’s pussy, the other straddled her face, lowering her bare slit to Bunny’s parted lips in an act more suggestive of sexual dominance than gratification.

Bunny got right to work, her tongue gliding from the little girl’s clit to her rosebud. I just stood there, frozen, blushing and definitely not breathing.

“Horny little jailbait bitches,” Trouble muttered. “You okay there, new girl?”

I turned. The fourteen-year-old punk princess was lounging against the kitchen island, naked from the waist down, dangling her own red thong from a fingernail. Her glittery MOLEST ME MOMMY tee was the only thing left to cover her body, and Trouble’s eyes were aimed at me.

“I—uh—yes. I’m fine?”

Trouble’s smirk was practically feral. “You don’t look fine. You look like someone trying really hard not to finger her ass while watching three girls tongue-fuck each other on a shag carpet.”

I flinched. I couldn’t help it. This girl scared the stuffing out of me. But oh, my GOD, did she turn me on. I didn’t know whether to turn tail and flee the room, or throw myself at her feet and say Do whatever you want with me.

Trouble prowled closer. “Hey, new girl – ever had someone sniff your pussy just to see what kind of mood you’re in?”

I was frozen, a deer in her predatory punk headlights. She was obviously a bully. And she was getting off on it. I could tell by the way her nipples were stiffening through the tee she wore, becoming increasingly visible with every crude word she spoke.

Trouble leaned in, her breath hot against my ear. “I know this is making you wet. I haven’t even touched you, yet here you are, your pussy as creamy as dessert. If I called you a cunt, you’d say, ‘Yes, I am,’ and thank me for it, wouldn’t you.”

It wasn’t a question.

“That’s not—”

“Ever had a meany big sister pin you down and force her fingers inside you?”

I swallowed hard. I was an only child, but one of my favorite masturbation fantasies was having an older sister to take charge of my life, everything from picking out my clothes to ordering me to go down on her. In my imagination, I always submitted gladly. Could Trouble be that sister? The idea warmed me, made me tingle all over.

She noticed it, too – and her wicked smile deepened. “There she is,” she growled. “There’s the nasty girl, cracking open. You’re trapped inside a kennel, cutie. At Lollipop Lane, you’re just another bitch in heat, with a puppy’s tongue teasing her clit.”

Raising a single finger, Trouble slowly trailed it down between my breasts. Not a rough touch; just enough pressure to make my nipples ache through the fabric.

Before I could stop her, before I even decided if I wanted to stop her, Trouble shoved me back against the island to press her thigh between mine, firm and insistent against my cunny. Her hands caged my hips, her mouth moved to within an inch of mine. “Be honest, little sis,” she murmured, rocking gently against me. “You wanna hump my leg, don’t you? That’s what all you puppy-girls want. Do it. Go on and hump my leg, you little slut…go on… fuck your big sister.”

My hips were already moving before my mind caught up—slowly at first, so maybe I could pretend it wasn’t happening. But my clit was aching from so much teasing and watching other girls be shameless for the pleasure of grown women. There was only so much a girl could take, and I’d hit my limit.

I whimpered, forehead pressed to Trouble’s shoulder, and began to grind into her– quick, desperate little thrusts, working up a friction lewd enough to make me blush, and just right enough to make me keep going. I sensed my bad-girl lover grinning above me, proud of how quickly she’d made me give in.

“That’s it, pup,” Trouble whispered. “Little bitch sister knows what she needs.” She didn’t move, she let me do the work, let me rub and rut and grind into her like a needy mess, her thigh flexing just enough to make me whine, my orgasm coming at me like a tsunami and I wanted it, I needed it, coming like a wildcat in heat humping this cocky fucking punk dyke. My white-knuckled hands gripped her ass, breath escaping my lips in frantic gasps—and then I was coming again, my body jerking in helpless spasms, groaning against her barely concealed breasts while my orgasm pulsed hot and humiliating through my core. Finally, I slumped against her, utterly spent, barely able to stand.

Trouble’s fingers curled under my chin and tilted my face up, peering at me like she was inspecting something precious. Then she kissed me, her tongue sliding inside, a perfect preview of what she could do with it between my legs, inside my bottom. She tasted like vape, cherry lip balm and a hint of pussy that I suspected she’d got from Miss Rowan.

Her mouth was wild and smug, fucking my mouth with a kiss that made it clear she’d completely bested me. And then she pulled back, licked her lips like I was still lingering on her tongue… and spat directly into my open mouth.

“That makes us sisters,” she hissed, “and you a good little bitch in heat.”

And without a flicker of hesitation, she swept one of the salad plates off the counter and let it crash dramatically to the floor, where it shattered.

“Oh, really, Trouble?” From the patio, Miss Rowan’s voice sliced through the air.

“Did I do that?” Trouble stuck out her tongue towards her mother, flipped the rest of us a double-finger salute, and ripped off her shirt, the last bit of clothing she wore. She didn’t even pretend to resist as Miss Rowan strode in, grabbed her by the hair, and dragged her up the staircase like a misbehaving kid. “I meant to do that!” she shrieked, laughing all the way.

On the carpet, Bunny moaned quietly as she watched Trouble’s forced exit, wiggling the fingers of one hand to wave goodbye. The twins were licking her cunt and anus, oblivious of all else.

I bent to pick up pieces of the shattered plate. Because that felt like something a sane person might do.

Mind you, by then I was anything but sane. But this was a beautiful, thrilling, soul-cleansing madness I’d hungered for my whole life long without knowing it. And I wanted more.

Bunny pranced toward the stairs, leading the twins with a squeal and a flourish of hands, her bottom jiggling enticingly with every bounce. Miss Evangeline followed with the grace of a wicked ballet mistress, trailing satin ribbons that she’d tied around the throats of her puppygirls. They all ascended upstairs as a giggling, giddy procession of leash-tugs and squealed filth.

Miss Ashcroft and I were left in the soft hush of the now quiet kitchen.

She took a long sip of her wine, then murmured, “Wait for the music…”

From upstairs came a rapid-fire percussion of slaps, followed by high-pitched yips. There was a stifled “Mommy, please!” and something that sounded like “That’s my tushy, sis… ooohh, that’s my TUSHY!” all punctuated by giggles and moans.

Miss Ashcroft smiled almost dreamily as she trailed a manicured hand across her breasts, full and heavy in the evening quiet. She didn’t tweak a nipple for my benefit; there was just the hint of pressure, like a woman remembering her favorite book while feeling the texture of the cover.

“This night,” she said softly, “is perfect. Utterly and completely perfect.”

She turned to me with a precise, carnivorous grace that made me feel like I was already naked even though I wasn’t, not quite. I still wore one of Bunny’s slutty mini-skirts and the too-tight cotton tee. But I ached to be naked, to bare my body, my soul to Miss Ashcroft, the stern, loving mommy I’d always longed for, but never had.

Did she want me to undress for her? I was afraid she might not. .

“Lily.”

“Yes, Miss Ashcroft?”

“Follow me to the lounge.”

I did. Of course I did. Because the air smelled like roses and sex, and there was the sound of little girls as background music. My pussy was tingly, alive with erotic possibilities. God help me, I was already forgetting what it might feel like to not be part of this lust-fueled family.

♡ ⚢ ♡ ⚢ ♡

The fire crackled in secret tongues, the shadows dancing along the walls of the lounge. Miss Ashcroft, still gloriously nude, seated herself in a comfy leather armchair, one leg crossed over the other, her posture elegant and feline, her body regal, elegant and entirely, unashamedly perfect.

I sat opposite her, still dressed, still unsure of myself. My nervous hands were pinned between my knees to keep them still. The heat from the fire soaked into my legs. The heat from her soaked into everything else.

She didn’t look at me, just sipped her wine and let the room breathe around us.

And I… I wanted. My body hummed with the all-consuming need I felt. But I didn’t know how to want properly. I longed to reach out, to curl up at her feet, to beg her please, please, without knowing what for…but the words were too shy to let themselves be heard, like kittens afraid to meow.

She glanced over at me then, just the flick of her eyes. “You’re doing so well, Lily.”

I blushed so violently I thought I might burst. “I’m just… sitting here.”

Miss Ashcroft smiled, and it was the kind of smile that could unmake kingdoms. “Exactly. You’re here.” A pause. Another sip. Then she murmured, “Would you like to be useful, Lily?”

My heart pounded. Here it comes.

I nodded.

She still didn’t move. “Then wait. If you want to belong here, you must learn to savor the suspense. Just a little while longer. You’re curious, maybe even afraid. You’re probably wondering why so few mothers make love to their daughters like we do. You’ve noticed how we play with roles that feel too intimate for most. Perhaps you long to ask why we do these things. You want to know why we’ve built this house around our dangerous fantasies, fantasies we make real… fantasies that, if they became known to the wrong people, could land the women in prison – and our girls into foster homes.”

She paused, not for effect, but for emphasis.

“Mind, you, this is not some sex cult… even though sex is part and parcel of it. We’re taking back what once was ours, the power that men would move heaven and earth to deny us. It’s a reclamation of something the world forgot. We live in a male-dominated culture, one that takes softness and twists it, that mocks unabashed need, that punishes yearning. But here on the Lane we are allowed to cherish it. We honor it.”

She looked directly at me then, and I felt my whole self go still under the weight of that gaze.

“When my daughter kisses me like a lover, it isn’t because she’s confused. It’s because she’s found safety. She’s tired of pretending not to want guidance, warmth, approval. She’s choosing to be seen—fully, and without shame. It’s not about genetic biology. It’s about intention. I’m her mother, I give structure, discipline and care. She gives me trust and vulnerability. That… that is love in its perfect form. We don’t blur lines here on the Lane, we draw new ones, with consent and creativity in an eternal marriage to each other. In doing so, we become something freer. Something truer.”

The fire snapped softly as if it, too, was holding its breath.

“I don’t know who I am,” I whispered.

Miss Ashcroft didn’t say anything. She simply tilted her head with that impossibly feline grace, showing not a trace of surprise.

That was when something cracked open inside me, and the words spilled out.

“I’m not—I don’t even know how,” I stammered. “I keep—I always try to be what other people want, right? I dress right, talk right, laugh at the right jokes, and I’m always watching myself like I’m some horrible show I can’t turn off, and I smile when I’m screaming inside, and I try to act like I’ve got it together… but I don’t, Miss Ashcroft. I don’t. I never have.”

My thoughts were pouring forth in a torrent, things I’d never said to anyone, and I couldn’t stop them.

“I used to imagine dying, then maybe people would finally say something nice about me. I’ve never known what it’s like to feel genuine confidence. I hate my body, but I hate even more how much I want people to want it. And I can’t make myself s-stop feeling that way. I need to be wanted. And touched. And told what to do b-by someone who loves me. And I hate that even more, ‘cause what if that makes me weak? Or pathetic? Or-or…or wrong?”

By now I was crying, full-on, sniffling and sobbing..

“And worst of all? I hate myself for pretending I’m not any of that!”

Miss Ashcroft rose with the slow grace of a woman who had never hurried in her life, her wineglass abandoned on the side table, eyes fixed only on me. She crossed the space between us. When she reached me, she didn’t speak—just extended one elegant hand to touch my chin, guiding me to my feet  like I was too fragile to grasp.

Together, we both sank down to the plush rug before the fireplace, its texture thick and soft under my knees. The glow of the flames kissed her skin in golden hues. I was still crying uncontrollably, but Miss Ashcroft pulled me close, curling me into her lap like I was something wounded that had come home to heal. My head rested against her thigh, breath shaky, fingers tangling into the weave of the rug.

“Shhh, pretty girl… shhhh…” Her hand slid to the small of my back.

She guided me across her knees, gently positioning me until my bare ass was angled upward, exposed to the firelight. My heart was racing like a hummingbird’s wings.

“Now, Lily,” she murmured, her palm warming my naked skin, “it’s time for you to begin again.”

And then the first sharp, precise smack landed on my bottom. It wasn’t cruel, it wasn’t even hard. It felt almost ceremonial.

I gasped. I knew what she was doing, without any reason to know. I began to cry harder.

“You are precious,” she said, her voice almost a song. “You have worth. Enormous worth.”

Then came the next spank, firm and measured, on the verge of cruelty but not quite.

“This one is for the lies,” she said. Another.

“This one is for the shame.” And another.

Now came a pause to let me breathe. Her hand trailed across my buttocks, those perfectly manicured nails gliding over the heated skin. Then Miss Ashcroft cupped my bottom, soothing away the heat she’d just raised. Her fingers spread my anal cleft just enough for her to caress my tingling star.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she cooed. “Such a darling little bottom you have. So sensitive. So perfect. Made to be pleasured by so many tongues and fingers, so many sisters and aunties, teachers and babysitters, and dozens of new lovers…”

Smack.

“This one,” she said, “is so you never forget you’re mine.”

Suddenly the fingertip of her other hand pressed deep into my anus. It didn’t hurt as much as one might think, but being so abruptly penetrated startled me so much that I burst into waves of fresh tears. And that brought forth a new volley of spanks from Miss Ashcroft.

“Good girl,” she whispered between each strike. “Let it go. Every lie they made you believe, every insult, each little hurt. Cry, my love. Cry for the little girl who was never held.”

I did. The tears came in waves. Each sting of her hand purged shame from me like the soul-killing poison it was, in a cleansing rain of blows that washed me clean.

When it was done, Miss Ashcroft turned me over in her arms like a doll and cradled me against her bare breast. I clung to her, still trembling. I could easily have taken her nipple between my lips, but chose to wait, let this magnificent woman give me the right to love her.

“There you are,” Miss Ashcroft said softly, brushing damp hair from my face. “You’re not lost, dear girl, just waiting for someone to love you properly.” She kissed the tears from my cheeks one by one. “Shhh. You don’t need to be afraid anymore. You’re home now.”

I broke. Fully. Sobbing into the comfort of her breasts. Then my heart soared as she offered a nipple to me. I immediately began licking, then suckling the swollen tip with my eyes closed.

This was a bonding experience like no other. Miss Ashcroft was offering me a new life, a new family, one where I mattered. I’d been on the verge of drowning in my own grief, and she was my salvation.

Miss Ashcroft gathered me to her chest, cooing, humming the same soft lullaby from the drive over. “There, now,” she whispered. “You’ve done so well, my Lily, my love.”

“I love you so much, Mommy…” I called her that without hesitation. It’s what she was. My mommy. I allowed my lips to silently form the words, letting them fill my head, my heart, my soul.

“I love you,” she murmured in reply, then kissed my ear.

♡ ⚢ ♡ ⚢ ♡

We weren’t finished, of course. Far from it.

Miss Ashcroft’s bedroom looked like it had been decorated by a Victorian ghost with a taste for kink and cashmere.

“Come along, little one,” she said, patting the duvet. “This bed doesn’t bite.”

I stood at the edge of the bed like a stray animal who’d wandered into a palace by accident. I was shaking inside, though I did my best to seem calm. My thoughts were a jumble. I’d cried so hard, felt so much, I didn’t even know if I was still me anymore.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, eyes fixed on the floor. “I just… I don’t think I’ll be good at it. At—at making you feel good. I’ve never even kissed a girl, not before tonight. I just…really, really don’t want to let you down…”

There was a soft rustle of sheets and then her hands were on my face, warm and firm and smelling like roses and pussy and love. Miss Ashcroft—Mommy, I reminded myself—tilted my head up until I had no choice but to meet her gaze.

“Oh, my darling little girl,” she said, kissing me deeply. She’d already forgiven me for things I hadn’t even done. “You really thought you had to earn me, didn’t you?”

I nodded, and something inside me winced.

“You don’t have to be good at anything tonight,” she said. “You don’t have to prove you’re worth loving. You already are.”

She took my hand, led me to the bed, and pulled me gently down onto the mattress with her. The blankets were so warm. Her arms were warmer.

“All I want right now is for you to be held, sweetheart. You’ve done enough. Just be a little girl now,” she whispered, lips against my ear. “Let Mommy take care of everything.”

I sank into the bed, going completely limp, my chest rising and falling like waves after a storm. I felt vulnerable in a way I hadn’t known was allowed. And yet, in her presence, I didn’t feel judged at all, but like something precious Mommy intended to care for forever.

She crawled onto the bed beside me, her hand warm and tender against my nipples, my tummy. Her mouth was soft and warm as it traveled along my navel, as if sealing me shut where I’d once been broken.

I gasped when her lips ventured between my legs. Oh, fuck… I couldn’t even think. Her tongue moved like it knew me better than I knew myself, only adoring, as if licking a young girl’s cunny was the entire point of being alive. My body trembled as I whimpered up at the ceiling, helpless under her gentleness.

She didn’t stop. She licked lower, then higher, her lips and tongue perfectly attending all of my pretty little princess parts. I felt kissed in places no one had ever paid attention to, kissed into stillness, into peace.

“Such a good girl,” she murmured between kisses. “Such a delight… I love you, child, I love you so very much…”

I cried once more, but this time the tears weren’t from sadness. In Mommy’s care, I was finally safe to fall apart, utterly and completely.

“That’s it,” she whispered. “Good girl. That’s Mommy’s good girl. Shh, I’ve got you,” she murmured. “You really needed this, didn’t you? To be loved like a daughter and used like a lesbian slut… licked by puppygirls… teased by her wicked big sister… made to come by your new mother.”

I gave a brief nod, not trusting my voice. She kept touching, kept coaxing, her fingers so skillful, her voice the anchor I clung to in the midst of rapture.

“You don’t have to hide anymore,” she said softly. “You don’t have to earn anything here. You can do what you want, Lily. And that’s enough. So let go for me, daughter mine,” she whispered, kissing me deeply, the kiss of a wedding night on a marital bed. “Come for Mommy, little one. Let me taste the love spilling from you…”

My whole body shook, wrung out and teetering on the precipice…and I gave in to my mother’s desire. I broke, I spilled, my orgasm crashing through me like a flash flood, raging and relentless, a wet, gushing release that anointed her lips, her neck, her breasts with my essence; a baptism both depraved and holy.

She moaned like it was the sweetest offering I could have given her, still pleasuring me with her flicking, darting tongue until I collapsed forward – trembling, gasping and wrung out like a washcloth. There was no need to speak… my whole body had confessed. She’d absolved me.

I melted against my mother, and we lay twined together in the damp sheets, my every nerve quieted, every jagged edge smoothed away by what she’d done to me. Miss Ashcroft cradled me in her arms and nuzzled my face, drawing slow, lazy circles between my shoulder blades with a finger. Resting my cheek on her breast, Mommy’s heartbeat was a steady rhythm beneath my ear, lulling me. I curled into it, boneless, weightless, utterly undone.

She didn’t speak for a while. Just breathed with me. Just held me.

I felt her fingers comb through my hair. Like she’d done that to me a hundred times and would do it a thousand more. I made a sound—relief, maybe. Security, perhaps. Let’s call it the strange, aching joy of being safe.

“You’re all right now, my love,” she whispered. “And you’re mine.”

Tilting my head back, I peered into her eyes. “Am I really your own little girl, Mommy…?”

“Yes, Lily.” She trailed a fingertip against my rosebud one last time. “Yes, you are.”

I nodded, floating in a happy delirium, tears cooling on my cheeks. I didn’t want to move. I just wanted to stay there forever, wrapped in warmth, in the arms, in the care of someone who saw me, knew me for what I was and saw value there.

My birth parents already seemed like a distant memory, part of that old life I no longer wanted or needed. I could barely even picture my former mother’s face any more. Miss Ashcroft had assumed her place, and I’d never been happier.

Mommy kissed me again, and I was quick to respond. Her lips to mine, our tongues entwined.

Then, with a voice so low I felt it in my chest ache, she murmured, “Welcome home, sweetie.”

I was the newest little girl on Lollipop Lane. And I was gonna love it here.

The End

 

by Suzy Freeman

Hello again. My name is Suzanne Freeman, and the following is the next in my series of interviews that comprise the majority of my PhD dissertation on the effects of a powerful sex drive that manifests itself in childhood. This dissertation involves only females, and seeks to determine how their libidos went on to affect their development into adulthood.

This particular interview involves Erica, a young mother of twenty-seven, who responded to my original request for women willing to discuss the early onset and discovery of desire for sexual contact of any kind, but more specifically, how such desire manifested itself in lesbian activity. Erica’s last name, like all last names in this study, are withheld.

For the purposes of these interviews, “Q” represents a question or comment I make. “A” represents the answer provided by the subject. Occasionally, when appropriate, the interview will take narrative form, much the same as a story in a book. Other initials are sometimes used when the subject brings along someone else with whom they share a sexual history.

Erica agreed to meet at my apartment for the first session. This interview is transcribed directly from the recordings.

***

Q: Good afternoon, Erica, and welcome. You have agreed to be open about your sexual history with me for the purposes of this study. You were chosen from dozens of respondents due to the frankness of your answers to the questions posed on the original questionnaire.

A: Hi, Suzanne. I’m happy to be here. Talking about my sex life, well, it sort of gets me going, if you know what I mean. I hope you won’t mind if I end up, well, masturbating as we talk?

Q: Not at all. You should do whatever makes you comfortable. Now, what is your earliest sexual memory, even if you weren’t aware at the time that it was sexual?

A: Well, my earliest memory is of touching myself and liking how it felt. I can’t remember how old I was. I just remember that it felt good when I touched my pussy. What’s most important is that this led to my first sexual encounter with another person.

Q: A female?

A: Yes.

Q: Tell us about that.

A: I was eight at the time. I have an older sister, as I mentioned on the questionnaire, and, well, she’s rather sexual herself.

Q: How much older is she?

A: Four years. Almost exactly four, in fact. She’ll be thirty-two a few days after I turn twenty-eight.

Q: So she would have been twelve at the time?

A: Yes.

Q: Do you have other siblings?

A: Yes, two brothers and another sister. My brothers are seven and five years older than I am. My other sister is two years younger.

Q: So, your parents had two boys, then three girls?

A: Yes.

Q: Just for the sake of accuracy in my study, did you have sex with your brothers as well?

A: Yes. In fact, my oldest brother took my virginity when I was nine. It hurt like hell, but after the first few times, it was fine.

Q: I just wanted to know for the purpose of this study. There will be no need to discuss what sex you had with your brothers or any other males.

A: (Laughing) I understand. We might be here for weeks if we included that.

Q: Do you then consider yourself bisexual?

A: Mostly queer, truth be told. I definitely prefer women. I still fuck my brothers every now and then, but that’s because I have a serious incest fetish. I don’t know what it is about family sex that gets me so incredibly hot, but that’s how I’m wired.

Q: That’s a topic we’ll definitely be addressing in this study. Now, before we move into your first sexual encounter with your sister, do you continue to have sex with your siblings?

A: Yes, and several friends as well. Nearly all women… and girls. Speaking of which, I spoke to my friend Cassie the other day, and I found out she told you about me.

Q: She did. I was wondering if you were the same Erica she mentioned.

A: That was me, yes. The two of us fucked a few times, and I ended up telling her all about the things I’d done with my sisters and brothers. It turned Cassie on, that’s for damn sure. She practically assaulted me! Then I started wondering about her, so I asked straight-out if she’d ever done incest herself. It took some persuading, but she finally told me about her family. Then it was my turn to get excited.

Q: Did you ever have sex with any of Cassie’s family?

A: Just her daughter. Cassie brought Melinda along the last time we hooked up. (She paused for a moment.) I think you already know how good that little girl is at eating pussy, right?

Q: Yes. She is a very sexual child.

(I felt a powerful urge to stop the interview right there and slide my hand under Erica’s skirt. There was a certain gleam in her eyes, the kind that told me she’d be into a heated romp in the sack. But I forced myself to stay focused on the study.)

Q: So, tell me about that first time with your older sister.

(For this portion of the interview, Erica’s story will be told in a narrative style.)

***

One night, Andrea crept into the bedroom I shared with my little sister Carmen. She woke me with a light shake, put a finger to her lips before I could ask what she was up to, then signaled for me to follow her. We lived in a four bedroom house, and she was the only one of the kids to have her own room. My brothers shared a room, while me and my little sister had the one next door. My parents, of course, took the master bedroom.

Anyway, Andrea wanted me to come along. I reached for my nightie, but she whispered, “You won’t be needing that,” so all I wore was a tiny t-shirt and panties. I felt sleepy, but also curious about what she wanted from me. I thought she was gonna tell me a secret, or show me something she wasn’t supposed to have. Well, that’s exactly what she did, but it sure wasn’t anything I expected!

She got me to climb into her bed, settled in next to me, then said, “I saw you touching yourself the other day, Erica.”

I didn’t have a clue what she meant. “Touching myself?”

“Yeah. You know. Down there.” She pointed at the front of my panties. That’s when I knew what she was talking about. I was a little bit scared because I thought she might tell Mom and Dad on me.

“You saw that?”

“Yes.”

“How? Were you spying on me?”

“No. You were outside sitting in the sun with a hand inside your shorts. I just happened to look outside, and there you were masturbating.”

“Master what?”

“Masturbating. That’s what rubbing yourself down there is called, It’s sort of a grownup word, so don’t go saying it around Mom or Dad.”

“Um, okay.” I was relieved Andrea wasn’t going to tattle on me, but that had me wondering what she really wanted.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” she asked with a knowing smile.

No point in lying about it, I figured. “Sure.”

“I think so, too. Anyway, it got me thinking you might want to watch me do it. You know, since I watched you? Guess I kinda owe you one”

“Um, I guess.” I wasn’t sure where this would lead, but I figured Andrea had to know more about this whole touching thing than I did. Maybe I could learn from her. And even if she had nothing new to show me, it would be fun to see her doing it.

Andrea started taking off her pajamas, and I was surprised to see she was naked underneath. Lying back, my sister said, “Now sit in front of me, so you can get a good look.”

I arranged myself at the foot of the bed. She gave me a sweet smile, then reached down and started toying with her slit. I’d never seen her pussy up close like this before. In fact, I couldn’t even remember the last time she’d been nude in my presence. I had to admit that since then, she’d gotten way sexy..

Andrea kept fingering her pussy, slowly at first, but she soon began to rub herself faster. The liquid sound and the thick scent of my sister’s pussy filled the room. A deep pulse began to throb between my legs, causing me to shift about a bit.

I guess my sister noticed, because she said, “Hey, Erica – Why don’t you do it along with me?”

I’d actually wanted to do just that, but wasn’t sure how Andrea would react. Now that she’d handed me an engraved invitation, I immediately stripped off what little I had on, stretched out next to her and began to masturbate.

Mind you, I’d never had an orgasm, but apparently Andrea was an expert at pleasuring herself. I remember noticing that her attention was riveted to me, watching as I ran a finger up and down through my pussy. My sister’s cheeks were flushed, her breath getting louder and deeper as if she was sprinting. I saw her titties and belly shake… her legs, too. Then these huge jerks were racing through Andrea’s body, and she was thrashing around like crazy, gasping, “Oh! Oh, my God. Oooooohh yes!” all the while trying her best to keep quiet.

When she was done, she went limp and lay quietly, waiting for her breath to return. Was I supposed to stop touching myself? I really didn’t want to. My fingers were making me feel better than ever before.

Andrea’s eyes fluttered open. With a sleepy smile, she murmured, “Know what that was…?”

“What what was?”

“That trembling and stuff that just happened to me.”

“Um, no.”

“I was coming. I had an orgasm.”

“Oh.” So that was an orgasm! She sure seemed to enjoy it. Still, I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to react.

She continued. “It’s like the best feeling in the world, and I do mean the best.”

“Do you think I can have them? I’ve been trying, and it feels okay, but nothing like what happened to you.”

Andrea went quiet for a moment, stroking her chin like she was thinking about something, then said, “Want to see if you can?”

That got my attention in a big way. Sitting up, I exclaimed, “Have an orgasm? Totally! Are you, um, gonna show me how, then?”

“Do you trust me?”

“Sure.”

“Lie back and spread your legs.”

When I did as she asked, my sister shocked the hell out of me when she bent down and gave my pussy a kiss. It left me speechless. I knew girls sometimes did that to other girls, but I sure didn’t expect anything like that from my own sister!

Somehow I managed to keep from freaking out, not wanting Andrea to think I was scared… though I was, at least a little bit.

Lucky me, she didn’t seem to notice. Instead, she said, “This is gonna feel really good at first, but it’s not an orgasm. You have to wait for that. The feelings keep getting better and better until… Well, you’ll know when you’re coming, believe me. Just be patient and wait for it to happen, okay?”

“Okay.”

That’s when Andrea moved in and started licking my pussy.

Of course, I’d never had that done to me before, and to say it felt utterly amazing would be a huge understatement. I loved it from her first lick. I didn’t even think about Andrea putting her mouth on me where I peed from. It was too good to concentrate on anything else. I swear, the damn walls could have collapsed around us and I wouldn’t even have noticed.

Before long, I could feel my hips start to move, pushing back against her mouth. There was a warmth beneath my belly that seemed to grow as Andrea licked me. It kept getting bigger and better until I  wanted to scream but I had the presence of mind to clamp a hand over my mouth. Our parents would’ve blown a gasket at the sight of their good-girl daughters having lesbian sex with each other.

All of a sudden that heat flared up, like a book of matches catching fire. I remember thinking how my sister was so, SO right – this was the most amazing feeling ever, and I loved it. My first orgasm.

After I came, I lay there thinking how Andrea had made herself come with just a hand. I looked up at her. “Can I do that to myself and get a orgasm? Y’know, like you just did?”

“Sure, any time you want, as long as you don’t get caught. I don’t think I’d get in trouble if Mom walked in on me while I was doing it, but she’d probably say you’re too young to masturbate.”

“Don’t get caught, then. Okay.”

That’s right. You can do it when you’re with me, but nobody else.”

“What about Carmen? Shouldn’t she be in on this?”

“Not just yet. At least not until we know she can keep her yap shut about it. We do NOT want her telling Mom or Dad.”

“What about Steven and Jake?” Those are my brothers.

Andrea shook her head. “Again, not yet. I’m fucking them both, and they’re fucking each other, but you aren’t ready for sex with a boy. Maybe in a couple of years. In the meantime, you’ve got me. I’ll do it with you any time you like.”

That’s when it really hit me – my cool big sister just had sex with me! And she was offering to do the same for me again! My mind fairly buzzed with possibilities. I could have danced around the room, lit up by the joy I felt at that moment. On the other hand, now that Andrea was treating me like an adult, I didn’t want to carry on as if I was still in first grade. “I’d like that,” I told her with a nod and a smile.

“Good.” My sister gave me a tender kiss. “Put your stuff back on, and I’ll take you back to your room.”

Soon I was creeping back into my bedroom, where Carmen was still fast asleep. I slipped into bed, then lay there for a little while, lost in thought before drifting off. I remember wondering how two boys had sex with each other. I knew that boys were different down there than girls were, but didn’t know exactly what the difference was. I told myself to ask Andrea about that. A moment or two later, I fell asleep.

***

Q: That sounds like a wonderful introduction to sex.

A: Oh, definitely. (At this point, Erica had a hand beneath her skirt and was gently masturbating. Seeing that was an enormous turn on. Then she noticed me looking.) I’d like to undress for this, if you don’t mind. Unless you object to me being naked.

Q: Please, do whatever makes you comfortable. (I was already struggling to hide my desire for this beautiful brunette, and doing a poor job of it. She wasn’t beautiful in a magazine centerfold way, but that kind of woman didn’t do much for me anyhow. Erica’s breasts were barely a C cup, and her hips were slender, but I found her utterly desirable.)

A: (Unfastening her bra) I’m glad you don’t mind. It’s just I get so fucking hot talking about anything to do with sex. (She looked directly into my eyes.) Don’t you?

Q: I have to admit that yes, I do.

A: (She smiles, her eyes radiating desire as she lets her skirt fall, then steps out of her panties) Well, don’t let me stop you from doing whatever you want.

(Getting to my feet, I began to remove my clothes. It was obvious to us both that this would end with more than mere masturbation, though that was how we would begin. Now naked, Erica and I sat, facing each other, allowing our eyes to wander where they would. I held off on touching myself at first, but she immediately began to stroke her slit, which was already dripping with her essence.)

Q: So your sister did continue having sex with you?

A: Yes. We would get together in her bed and fuck at least two or three times a week. Then one night, she got up and left her room before we got started. I was confused – at least, until she returned with Carmen.

(Again, I will now return to a narrative style for this part of Erica’s story.)

Andrea said, “I think it’s time we make Carmen part of this.”

“Cool!” I was flat-out thrilled. Of my parents’ three daughters, Carmen was the loveliest, sure to be an absolute stunner when she came of age. I’d been crushing on her ever since Andrea and I started having sex. And since she and I shared a bedroom, we’d have plenty of opportunities to fuck.

Turning to Carmen, my big sister said, “How about it, kiddo? Ready to have sexy fun with us?”

Carmen was grinning like she’d been offered an extra dessert. “Totally! Um, should I go ahead and get naked?”

That intrigued me. Apparently, Andrea had already given her our little sister a good idea of what we’d been up to behind her back, and she was most eager to join us for “sexy fun.”

“Let’s all get undressed,” Andrea said. With that, the three of us quickly stripped ourselves bare.

Andrea took the lead. “Carmen, lie on your back and spread your legs, wide as you can.” My little sister got into position, practically radiating excitement.

“Now, Erica,”  Andrea continued, giving me a wicked smile, “Because I’m the best big sister in the whole world, you get to be the first to lick her.” She gave my shoulder a pat. “Enjoy.”

I was dying for a taste of my six-year-old sister, so I immediately flopped down between Carmen’s thighs, pressed my mouth to her and got to work, running my tongue through the pretty pink slit.

“Oh, Erica!” she squealed, a hard shiver racing through her little-girl body.

She tasted incredible. To this day, I consider hers the yummiest pussy I’ve ever licked… and believe you me, I’ve gone down on more women and girls than I can count since then. Her essence was thick and sweet, nectar gathered from the bees of paradise.

Soon Carmen was grinding her cunt against my mouth and chin, gasping with each thrust. “That f-feels so good!” she moaned.

I felt Andrea draw my hips up so I was bent over on elbows and knees. Spreading my buttocks apart, she applied her hot, sucking mouth to my pussy, her tongue darting inside. Rolling it around a few times, she then licked a pathway up to my anus, taking a long moment to rim me before shifting her attention to my clit. My body sang with joy to be loved so wonderfully by my big sister, but I did the best I could to pleasure Carmen every bit as well.

Andrea raised her head long enough to blurt, “Keep going, Erica. Keep going! You’re gonna give Carmen her first orgasm!” before diving back into my pussy.

Moments later, Carmen cried out and she began to thrash about on the bed. Her moans were so loud that I thought they might wake my parents, so I stopped licking my sister just long enough to shush her.

As it turned out, Mom and Dad slept through the racket we made, but it was enough to wake my brothers. Within minutes, Jake and Steven slipped into Andrea’s room to find us naked and having sex.

They entered just as I was coming in Andrea’s mouth. I was surprised at first, but quickly decided I didn’t care. It wasn’t as if they were gonna tell on us. In fact, they both started getting undressed.

That was when I saw my first erect penis. Two of them, actually. That’s as far as it went, though, ‘cause Andrea shook her head. “Uh-uh, guys. Not tonight.” Turning to Carmen and me, she said, “You two, go back to your room.”

“Hey, wait a minute!” Steven protested, but Andrea shut him up with a look.

“They aren’t old enough yet!” she snapped. “We talked about this. Not until they turn twelve, guys.” Once again, she looked at me and my little sister. “Sorry about that. We’ll get together again, I promise. Maybe tomorrow night. Now go on; off to bed. And close the door!”

I would’ve liked to stay, if only to see how boys have sex with each other, but Andrea was clearly waiting for us to leave. So Carmen and I made our exit as the boys climbed into Andrea’s bed.

The rest of our evening wasn’t wasted, though. Carmen wanted to try eating pussy for herself, so I stretched out on my six-year-old sister’s bed and let her go down on me. She was clumsy at first, but got the hang of it soon enough, bringing me to a lovely climax. Then I fingered her until she came, and we shared a few deep tongue kisses before turning in.

Before I drifted off, Carmen said that she adored me, she now knew that she liked girls, and far as she was concerned, the two of us could fuck any old time.

***

Q: So you still have sex with Carmen?

A: Yes, frequently. She and her little girl now live with me, in fact.

Q: How old is her daughter?

A: Six, the same age Carmen was when she had her first orgasm.

Q: I have to ask… is she sexually active in any way?

A: Absolutely. Carmen’s been licking her pussy since she was two. I’ve made love to her, too. In fact, so has Andrea, who also has kids. Two girls and a boy, but I don’t think you want to hear about him.

Q: No need to, really. The focus of this study is women and girls.

***

I noticed that Erica’s masturbation had become increasingly intense. Rather than gently fondle her slit like earlier, she was tracing small circles around her clitoris with the tip of a finger. Her breathing, too, had grown deeper.

No longer able or willing to restrain myself, I began to touch myself along with her. For the next few minutes we spoke not a word, gradually working toward release. I was reminded of younger days, when I was just beginning to question my sexuality, of lazy summer afternoons when my best friend Gloria and I would pleasure ourselves together to see which of us could reach orgasm first.

As Erica began to come, she gazed deep into my eyes, inviting me without words to join her in this self-imposed bliss. Moments later, as her ecstasy was beginning to subside, I went off in an orgasm that seemed as if it might never end.

As my racing heartbeat began to slow, I suddenly thought of my neighbor Hannah, who knew I’d had sex with Millie, my previous interview subject, and her twelve-year-old daughter Emily. We’d been a little too noisy when they came to my apartment for a session. Having overheard us through the wall, Hannah watched through the window to find out who exited my place afterward. Seeing Millie and Emily leave hand in hand, she quickly put two and two together, then confronted me with her suspicions.

I’ve always been a poor liar, and Hannah was soon able to ferret out the truth about what I’d been up to with Emily and her mother. Luckily, my neighbor admitted to being bisexual herself, then went on to confess her unexplored attraction to young girls. There and then, she took off her pants and masturbated to orgasm while I watched.

Hannah and I had managed to get together for sex once since then, and now I wondered if she’d heard the squeals of orgasmic delight from Emily and me. I’d promised to notify her the next time I was having sex with an underage girl, but since this wasn’t one of those times, I chose to save that invitation for another day. In the meantime, I picked up the thread of my interview.

***

Q: Carmen’s little girl… what’s her name?

A: Chantelle.

Q: That’s beautiful.

A: She’s a lovely child. I swear, that girl could be on magazine covers. Would you like to meet her? Cassie said you loved getting to know Melinda.

Q: Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose.

A: You wouldn’t be. When I told Carmen about doing this interview, she got downright jealous.

Q: Um… because you were getting the chance to tell your story?

A: Well, that too. But mostly because of this.

She rose, padded over to where I sat naked and straddled my lap. Moments later, we were sharing hungry kisses. She thrust a hand between my thighs, her fingers seeking and penetrating the entrance to my vagina, then began to fuck me hard, fast and deep.

From the start of our interview, I was more or less certain that Erica and I would end up coupling, but she exceeded my every expectation as a lesbian lover – taking me to the edge of rapture within seconds, playfully dancing away, then bearing down again until I wanted to scream. She was amazingly skilled at edging, bringing me to the boil again and again without permitting me to come.

I was a hot mess by the time Erica abruptly pulled away, leaving me panting for breath, dizzy with the need for release. “Where’s your bed?” she asked, getting to her feet.

“Come with me,” I said.

I led her into the bedroom, the one part of my home that I allowed to represent my true self. I usually kept the door closed because of what was in there. Photos and posters of beautiful young girls plastered the walls. Dildos of various shapes and sizes stood proudly on my nightstand, along with a butt plug and a finger vibrator. The posters were homemade, created from images I found online and processed with an AI clothing remover to render them naked..

We sprawled on my bed, and Erica looked around, admiring my erotic décor. “Ooh, I love what you’ve done! Where on earth did you find those posters? Soooo sexy!”

I explained how I made them, and Erica asked if she could pay me to do a few for her, saying, “I’d kill for a naked Hermione Granger. God, I had such a massive crush on Emma Watson.”

“Well, you don’t have to kill to get a copy from me. Just keep it private… or if somebody sees it, I don’t know, tell them someone gave it to you as a gag gift.”

With that, Erica kissed me again, and we were off and running. A moment later, the two of us were in a heated sixty-nine, and I was tasting her lovely pussy for the first time. She was incredibly juicy, and tasted amazing, tart as a ripe raspberry. Her pubes were trimmed into a neat triangle.

When I came, I didn’t bother hiding the sounds of ecstasy, and neither did Erica. I thought of my neighbor Hannah, wondering if she was listening in and masturbating on the other side of the wall.

After we’d both come several times, Erica and I lay nestled together. She continued to check out my nude posters, finally pointing at one I’d done of Hannah Montana. She said, “I’ll give you fifty dollars for one of those.”

“You don’t have to pay me,” I said. “I can have copies of the ones you like ready when you come back with Carmen and Chantelle.”

She kissed me. “Thanks. You’re the best.”

Once she’d dressed and we hugged each other goodbye, making plans to meet again that same week, I escorted her to the door, still completely naked.

I heard Hannah’s door open just as Erica stepped outside, and my neighbor emerged from her next-door apartment, all smiles..

“Hi, there!” she said. “I’m Hannah, Suzanne’s neighbor. How are you?” She extended her hand to Erica, who was slightly taken aback but shook Hannah’s hand.

“Hi,” Erica said.

Hannah glanced at me and said, “Suzanne knows our walls are as thin as onion-skin paper, so I after what I just heard, I simply had to meet you.”

Her meaning was clear, and the look in Hannah’s eyes said everything that needed saying.

Erica glanced back and forth between Hannah and me, at a loss for words. I figured it best to be totally honest. “It’s okay, Erica. Let’s just say Hannah has the same interest in pretty girls that you and I do.”

Erica’s expression told me she completely understood. She smiled, pleased to meet a kindred spirit, especially one as sexy as Hannah. With a sly light in her eyes, she drew close to Hannah, and the two women came together in a kiss that quickly went from gentle to passionate, tongues mingling before they drifted apart.

Hannah was now grinning herself. “My, my. I taste something very nice on your lips… or should I say ‘someone’?”

“You should,” Erica said. “And she’s delicious.”

“What about you, then?” Hannah murmured. “How do you taste? Only one way to find out, I suppose.” Turning to me, she claimed my mouth in a luscious kiss, sampling the tang of cunt that still lingered on my lips and chin, her hands slipping down to cup my bare ass.

“I can’t decide who I like more,” Hannah said when she broke away. “I’ll have to do a bit more research. Will you be returning for a second interview, Erica?”

Leaning close, Erica murmured in my ear, “She likes young girls, you said?”

I nodded. “As much as we do.”

Turning back to Hannah, Erica said, “Yes, I’ll be doing this again, and I’d like you to be here, too. Suzanne can give you the details. I’m bringing my sister and her daughter.”

“Oh? How old is the girl?”

“Six.”

Hannah blushed. “Oh, my, that is young.”

“She’s pretty… mature for her age, if you get my meaning,” Erica said, and leaned in for a final kiss with me before setting off with a call of “Toodles!” and a casual wave. Climbing into her car, she backed out of the parking spot and left.

Hannah’s gaze followed Erica’s Volvo as she rounded the turn and disappeared from sight, then looked at me. “You busy right now?” she murmured. “Like to hang out?”

I’d already enjoyed an intense sexual workout, but my motor was already purring anew. “Of course,” I replied, reaching for my neighbor’s hand. “I don’t think you’ve seen my bedroom yet.”

We were halfway up the stairs when something occurred to me. “Um, my sheets are kinda messy,” I told her.

“Good,” Hannah replied, already unfastening her top.

On to Chapter Six!

A very brief recap: After crushing on fellow schoolgirl Astrid for months, Sandy has realised her dream of making love to the beautiful blonde while Astrid is laid up at home from a gymnastics mishap. Astrid eagerly returns the favour, and Sandy passes out when she comes. Read on, friends…

***

by kinkys_sis

The next thing I recall was a wet cloth wiping my face. I let my eyes flutter open, only to find myself looking up at Astrid’s mum Britta.

“There, there, love,” she said, stroking my brow, “it’s all right.” Her presence was so soothing that I wasn’t at all embarrassed about being stark naked.

Astrid was frowning. “You are okay, right? I think you fainted.”

“Is that wh-what happened?” I replied, the words clumsy in my mouth. I wasn’t sure myself, but then it all came flooding back. “Oh, Astrid, it was so very wonderful. I think the good feelings were too much for me, that’s all.” Reaching out, I took her hand. “Are you sure this is your first time with another girl? You really are good at this.”

Astrid blushed. “I… I was going to ask you the same thing. You didn’t know you were gay until you, y’know, noticed me, right? Um, that’s what you said yesterday. Well, I wouldn’t have guessed you’d never done this before, not in a million years.”

“From what I saw, you were beautiful together,” Britta observed. I noticed that she had changed into a lovely floral print dress that showed off her shapely figure quite nicely.

“Thanks, Mum,” Astrid said, “Um, can you help me get back into bed?”

“Oh, of course, dear,” Britta murmured. She carefully assisted her daughter, helping her to lie down. Astrid winced slightly as she swung her leg up onto the bed, then sank into the pillow with a contented sigh.

Seating herself next to me, Britta took my hand, then Astrid’s. “My little sweethearts,” she said. “just the sight of you, side by side after making love… it stirs me up inside. Have to admit, I’m actually a bit jealous,” she added. “Would you mind terribly if I snuggle with you both for a while?”

I shared a quick glance with Astrid. “Fine by me,” was my reply. And why not? I liked Britta. And after all, she knew exactly what we’d been up to, Astrid and me. No point in being shy about it now!

Astrid seemed puzzled by her mother’s request, but said, “Sure, Mum,” then shifted over to make room.

What happened next made my jaw drop. Britta stood, then reached up to fiddle with something at the back of her neck… then with a flick of the hand, the floral print dress she wore slipped to the floor, leaving her completely nude.

Cupping her generous breasts, Britta glanced up, blushing a bit when she noticed our disbelieving stares. “Well, I don’t want to be the only one wearing clothes,” she said.

Climbing onto the bed, Britta stretched out on my right, so I was sandwiched between her and Astrid. She reached out to take her daughter’s hand, which she then placed on my breast. “Your titties are lovely, Sandy. Absolutely perfect. Don’t you think so, Astrid?”

“Um, well, yes. They’re lovely,” Astrid replied, clearly surprised by her mother’s move – as was I. Could Britta be encouraging her daughter and me to make love again while she watched? It shocked me to realise that I found the idea intriguing. I imagined Britta masturbating while we put on a sex show for her, and it got me going all over again.

Fortunately, Astrid seemed to be okay with whatever her mum was up to. She began to lightly caress my breast, teasing the nipple with her fingertips. I sank back into the bedding, savouring her touch, then my eyes widened in astonishment when Britta began to fondle my other breast. It appeared that she had more in mind than just watching us fuck.

Giving me a bashful smile, Britta glanced up at her daughter.  “Sweetheart, do you mind if I touch Sandy for a moment?”

I had no idea how to respond, but Astrid seemed to be thoughtfully considering her mother’s request. After a few heartbeats, she smiled at Britta and nodded. “Sure, Mum.”

All I could do was close my eyes and relax while mother and daughter went to work on my tits, savouring the joy of being pleasured by two lovers at once. That said, there was some small part of me that felt ill at ease by this crazy situation I’d stumbled into. Being gay was one thing, but having it off with a girl and her mother at the same time felt, well, sort of pervy. A tiny voice in my head told me I ought to push Britta and Astrid away, grab my clothes and make a hasty departure for the safety of home, while the greater part of me was screaming Don’t you dare!

Interrupting this train of thought, a warm, soft mouth covered mine. At first I thought it was Astrid, and immediately responded, my tongue seeking hers.

But something was different. A thicker pair of lips and a faint hint of gardenia scent caused me to open my eyes, only to discover I was sharing this kiss with Britta. And with that revelation, those concerns about right and wrong evaporated like mist. I wanted her, she wanted me, and a giggle from Astrid told me she was fine with it.

Wrapping an arm around Britta’s waist, I returned her kiss with every ounce of passion I possessed, while she and Astrid continued to feel me up. Britta broke away, nuzzling my face, my ear, my neck. I could tell how thrilled she was to make love to me, and that only drove my own excitement higher. My pussy was so wet I swore I could hear it squish when I pressed both thighs together.

I blindly reached out toward Astrid until I found her shoulder, then felt my way to her breasts. While groping her, I sought out Britta’s larger tits with the other hand. My God, they were so full and soft, her nipples fat as cherries.

This was completely perverted, but I didn’t care. Mere minutes earlier, I made Astrid my lover; now she was sharing me with her mother! It was the wildest, freakiest thing I’d ever done… and at that moment, all I wanted was to keep going. If that meant I was twisted, so be it.

I felt Britta remove her hand from my breast; a second later, Astrid did the same. Then both their hands were finding their way between my thighs. “Oh, God,” I whispered as mother and daughter joined in touching me. One finger was toying with my clitoris; two more were sliding up and down the opening to my vagina. I had no idea who was doing what, just that it felt incredible.

As if they had a mind of their own, my thighs spread wide apart, as if inviting my new lovers to explore. And explore they did. I still had my hymen, so they couldn’t go far inside, but every other part of my sex was showered with attention.

Omigosh, it was happening again. My orgasm was going to hit me hard and fast, but this time I was ready. I would seize ecstasy with both hands and ride it into the sky.

Britta’s lips sought out mine, her tongue emerging to play. But wait – now Astrid’s mouth was approaching from the other side. Just like that, I began to kiss them both… then somehow all three of us were kissing. I feasted on Astrid’s mouth, swapped tongues with Britta, then…

Oh. My. GOD. Now Astrid and Britta were kissing, and it wasn’t anything like what you’d expect to happen between a mother and daughter. I forgot all about coming, and my heart was pounding so hard that it rang in my ears. Astrid seemed every bit as surprised as me, but soon her eyes drifted shut as she melted into her mum’s embrace..

We finally drifted apart. Astrid glanced at me, her face flushed a bright pink, then slowly turned back to Britta. “Mum?” she whispered. “What was that?”

“Oh, my love,” Britta replied, shaking her head. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have… but I’ve wanted to kiss you that way for so very long.”

Astrid’s eyes widened in astonishment. “You – you have…?”

Britta nodded. “Since you were ten.”

I couldn’t restrain a tiny gasp. Britta glanced my way, giving me a sad smile, then back to her daughter. “I know mums aren’t supposed to think that way about their little girls, but… “ She sighed. “I still recall how it happened. You were doing stretches by the sofa, wearing those white tights you liked, but with nothing on underneath.”

“I did that sometimes,” Astrid murmured. “I mean, never in dance class… but at home, yeah. It was more comfortable that way. And you – you noticed?”

“My goodness, yes. I could see everything. It made me feel warm all over. Mind you, I didn’t understand my feelings, not right then, but later in bed, I pictured you completely naked, and… and it excited me. I touched myself that night, imagining we were sharing my bed. First we kissed, then more.” She gave a shaky laugh. “I’ve been building on that fantasy for years.”

“I had no idea,” a dazed Astrid replied. “And you… still feel that way about me?”

“I do – but don’t worry, sweetheart,” said Britta. “It doesn’t mean I’m genuinely trying to seduce you. Some fantasies aren’t meant to come true. That kiss was enough for me.”

Astrid frowned. “But… here you are, Mum, in bed with us, without a stitch of clothing.” With a thoughtful nod, she added, “It seems to me that – that you want more than just a kiss.” Hesitantly reaching for Britta’s hand, she held it for a moment, then pressed it to her breast.

My heart thudded like a bass drum as I witnessed this crucial moment between mother and daughter. Britta was gone pale and trembling. “I d-don’t know, sweetheart. It’s fun to dream about, but…”

“Mum… I think I want this,” Astrid said, gazing into her mother’s eyes.

“I – I want it too, love. But I’m not sure it’s a good idea…” I noticed she didn’t take her hand back, though.

I was caught by surprise when Astrid turned to me. “Sandy? What do you think? Me and my mum – and you, of course. All three of us, making love. Should we do this or not?”

If someone had asked me this question a day earlier, I’d have thought they were mental. Sex with your own mother? But now, I’d heard Britta explain her feelings. I’d seen the wanting in her eyes – Astrid’s, too. And I was on fire all over again, the need for release pulsing like a motor beneath my belly. I longed to share love with them both – the girl I’d adored for ages, the woman who’d given her birth.

“I think you totally should,” I told them as I glanced from mother to daughter, my confidence growing with every word. “You love each other. It’s what you both want. And no one else but me will know. Why not do what you feel?”

Britta began to reply, but Astrid cut her off. “She’s right, Mum. I’m tired of holding back; always trying to be good. I spent all this time pretending I didn’t like girls, and for what? I’m just lucky Sandy didn’t give up after I told her no.” She wrapped both arms around Britta, then slid her hands down to cup her arse. “Know what? I… I want to fuck you, Mum.”

“Astrid!” Britta gasped.

But Astrid wouldn’t be silenced. “I think I’ve felt that way about you for a long time, but – well, I just didn’t see it. Well, now I do. And you want the same thing, Mum. That’s enough for me.”

She kissed her mother. Britta stiffened for a moment, but I suppose her desire was too intense to be restrained any longer. She melted into Astrid’s embrace; first allowing herself to be kissed, then matching her daughter’s passion, bringing her tongue into the dance.

Britta’s hand still rested on Astrid’s breast, but now it began to move. She began to fondle her daughter, pausing to take a nipple between two fingers and give it a light squeeze. Astrid moaned into her mum’s mouth, the two of them still caught up in a kiss turned absolutely torrid.

When they finally parted. Astrid looked at me, wearing a wicked grin. “C’mon, Sandy – join the party!”

She didn’t have to tell me twice! I practically thrust myself into their embrace. Astrid kissed me first, then I feasted on Britta’s mouth, groping those lovely great tits all the while.

I was about to dip down and take one of her nipples between my lips when Astrid stopped me. “Hold on!” she told me, then turned to Britta. “Mum, we interrupted Sandy before she got to come. We have to do something about that.”

“Oh, absolutely!” Britta exclaimed, breaking into a huge grin. Shifting to one side, she patted the bed. “Lie down, love. We’re going to shag you silly.”

“Muuuum,” Astrid sighed, rolling her eyes. “No one says ‘shag’, any more.”

I was going to tell them it wasn’t necessary, that I could wait – but my new lovers clearly meant to bring me off there and then, so I obeyed, meekly getting into position with my legs wide apart.

Quickly kneeling between my legs, Britta got right to work, her tongue gliding through my vaginal cleft. As for Astrid, she took me in her arms, whispered, “You’re amazing, Sandy!” gave me a brief but sizzling-hot kiss, then bent to take my left nipple between her lips.

“S-so are you, Astrid!” I gasped. Twining my fingers through her mother’s hair, I added, “And you, Britta!”

It felt amazing. For a novice lesbian, Astrid had done a first-rate job licking me to climax, but Britta’s tongue was positively magical. “Yes,” I breathed, sinking into the pillow as that point of warmth began to pool, then grow. “Oh, yes.”

My excitement surged higher still when Astrid licked a pathway down to my pubes, then joined her mum between my spread legs to get in on the oral action. Oh my God, what a thrill that was, watching mother and daughter ravish my pussy with their mouths and tongues. Especially when they paused their licking to share deep kisses, their lips dripping with my honey. Britta knew enough to pleasure me with her fingers when they were occupied with one another, keeping me on the boil.

I forgot everything when I came, my body going off like a firework. Nothing existed but the moment’s ecstasy, so I surrendered all control, allowing those rapturous sensations to tug me this way and that. My body seemed to respond on its own, without my participation – limbs twitching helplessly, eyes squeezed tightly shut, back arched, hips raised up from the bed. I began to stiffen, then went rigid as my climax reached its unimaginable peak. I’d been giving myself orgasms for nearly three years by then, but they’d been nothing like this.

Soon the storm began to wane, and I was finally able to draw a steady breath. My body was enveloped in a warm, comforting glow, and I relaxed into it, conscious that Britta and Astrid were still licking me. I was just about to tell them I was finished, then my hips twitched, my legs started to shake and it was happening again.

This climax was a gentler release. Probably just as well; a repeat of the last one might well have killed me stone dead. I was basking in the moment’s beauty, loving Astrid and Britta for this precious gift, shedding tears of happiness. Soon, my ecstasy began to subside, leaving me limp, glazed in 9 and utterly sated.

Opening my eyes, I saw Britta and Astrid smiling down at me. My heart swelled with adoration for them both. I had to marvel at the turn my emotions had taken. For months, I’d been utterly smitten by this gorgeous blonde gymnast; now, I was in love with her mother, too. I guess the only certainty in life is that you can’t actually be sure about a bloody thing.

I looked from one to the other, these two wonderful people who were now part of my world. “Astrid, Britta… thank you. That was wonderful. Now, I think you ought to make one another feel good.”

Britta hesitated, but Astrid placed a hand on the back of her mum’s neck and pulled her close until their lips met. It was almost chaste for a couple of heartbeats, but I saw Britta’s arms twine around Astrid, and just like that they were caught up in a kiss full of fire and passion.

I was a bit concerned that Britta might suddenly get cold feet and pull away, but when she dipped down to capture Astrid’s left nipple between her lips, a wave of relief swept through me.

“Mum!” Astrid gasped, clutching her mother’s shoulders. “Oh yes.”

Britta was making love to Astrid’s breasts – pleasuring one with her mouth, and the other with her hand, then switching. She licked her daughter’s nipples, sucked them, gave them little teasing bites. I watched raptly, studying Britta’s moves, intent on making them my own.

Then Astrid surprised me by abruptly pushing her mum away, rolling Britta onto her back. “It’s your turn to feel good, Mum,” she said, flashing a grin that made me quiver inside. “I’ve already had mine.” She gave Britta yet another deep, hungry kiss, then nuzzled a path down to her mother’s titties. “Been a long time since I’ve seen these up close,” she added, then buried her face in their softness.

Britta was shedding tears of joy, her expression a portrait of bliss as she cradled Astrid’s head to her chest. I knew how she felt. After all, I’d wanted her daughter myself… and hadn’t I finally seen my dream come true?

Astrid lingered on her mother’s breasts for another couple of minutes, then began moving downward, trailing kisses as she went. I was buzzing with anticipation, well aware of what was about to happen, telling myself, She’s about to lick her mum.

Not quite yet, though. She paused to shower Britta’s tummy with affection, spearing the tip of her tongue into her mum’s navel. Startled, Britta gave a jittery laugh that trailed off into a groan as Astrid descended further still, until she was lying between the spread thighs of the woman who had given her life.

“So pretty,” Astrid said, slowly running a finger between Britta’s juicy labia. “Mum, you have a gorgeous pussy.” Then she giggled. “Wonder if it tastes as good as it looks?”

Britta was trembling all over. “B-baby…”

Thoughtfully stroking her chin, Astrid murmured, “Only one way to find out, I suppose…”

Hot as I was, watching Astrid tease her mum nearly caused me to laugh out loud, but my mirth turned to awe when she buried her lips in Britta’s pubic thatch. I didn’t see Astrid’s tongue emerge, but I could hear it when she began to lick her mother.

“Oh, my God!” Britta cried, her body bowed as she arched upward from the bed. “That’s it, sweetie. “Don’t stop… please d-don’t stop!”

I felt an overwhelming urge to masturbate, but what I wanted even more was to join in. My gaze drifted to Astrid’s exquisite arse, close enough to reach out and touch. So I did, resting a hand on a bum cheek. She spread her thighs a bit, enough to put her rosy slit on display.

As if hypnotised, I drew closer, reaching out to trace Astrid’s vaginal opening from anus to clitoris with a fingertip, satisfied to hear her moan into Britta’s pussy. That spurred me to let that wicked finger go inside, to penetrate Astrid as deeply as I could. She briefly tensed – then relaxed completely, opening herself up to me.

I began to fuck her, steadily pumping my finger in and out, feeling her cunt get juicier with each stroke. Astrid hummed her approval as she continued to feast on her mother.

Britta’s hands were trembling as she cupped both her breasts, tugging at their tips. Her body gave a jerk, and her mewls of pleasure began to mount into a long, drawn-out cry. She’s about to come, I told myself.

But before that could happen, Astrid abruptly broke away, raising her head to look up at me. She wore a wicked grin, her lips and chin dripping with Britta’s fluids. It was the sexiest sight imaginable.

“Wh-what – what’s happening?” Britta stammered, understandably confused.

“C’mere, Sandy,” Astrid said as she spread her mother’s legs even further apart, her eyes burning into mine all the while. “It’s your turn. Why don’t you finish Mum off?”

Her words had my lust blazing all over again, desire flooding through me like molten lava. I shifted my attention to Britta’s pussy – open and dripping with nectar, a luscious pink flower awaiting the caress of a lover’s mouth. My mouth.

No power on earth could have stopped me from what I did then. Carefully withdrawing my fingers from Astrid, I crawled toward her mother’s lovely cunt, positioning myself between her thighs as Astrid moved to one side to make room. The thick aroma of the woman had my head reeling, and I had to pause a moment to breathe it in.

I placed two fingers between Britta’s thick labia and slid them deep, deep into her vagina. She was even wetter than Astrid had been, slippery to the touch and hot as a furnace.

I could have fucked her silly then and there, but I wanted to sample Britta’s flavour, to bury my face in that tuft of pubic fur and love her with my mouth. First, though, I removed my glistening fingers and licked them. She tasted lovely, slightly stronger than Astrid.

I drew nearer, opening Britta’s cunt with my fingers until I spied her clitoris, standing firm and proud. Since teaching myself to masturbate six months earlier, I was well familiar with how good it felt to caress that tiny nubbin, and determined to put that knowledge to use on Astrid’s mum. I inched closer still so my tongue could reach it, then felt her body twitch as I flicked at the tip.

The temptation was there to take Britta’s clitoris between my lips to suck, leading her straight to what I suspected would be the wildest of orgasms. But I also remembered a sexy story I read where this girl who’s making love to her best friend and really takes her time with it, keeping the other girl on the boil until she’s begging to be allowed to come. I loved the idea of driving Astrid’s mother wild like that, so I kept giving her clit these tiny licks, occasionally dipping my tongue into her to get another taste of pussy.

I was so centred on Britta’s pleasure, it took me a moment to notice that she and Astrid were kissing again. Deep, heated kisses, the kind one lover gives another. Fuck me, what an amazing sight that was!

A fire was smouldering between my legs, and it needed to be dealt with, so I shoved a hand down there and began to masturbate. But just as I was getting started, Britta broke their kiss.

Gazing into her daughter’s eyes, she said, “I want to taste you, dearest. Sit on my face; feed me your cunt. I’m gasping for it!” Then she glanced at Astrid’s leg brace. “Oh… well, that won’t work.” Britta turned to me. “Sandy, dearest… you’re doing a lovely job, but could you lick me from behind instead?”

I got the idea right away. “Sure!”

Britta got onto her knees, then patted the bed. “Lie down,” she told her daughter.

Astrid’s smile was something to see. Still favouring the injured leg, she carefully stretched out with her thighs parted. “Okay, Mum.”

Now on all fours between her daughter’s legs, Britta glanced back at me. “As you were, love,” she cooed, then turned back to Astrid and lowered her head. My heart pounded like thunder.

Placing both hands on Britta’s arse, I returned to licking her. She was juicy as a piece of ripe fruit, and the lower half of my face was soon bathed in her fluids.

I wished it was possible to see Britta go down on her daughter, but the joyous expression on Astrid’s face told me everything I needed to know. “Oh, Mum…” she moaned, “I… I love you.”

There was something about eating Britta’s pussy from behind that made the act seem especially lewd. The sight of her bum hole inspired me to lick her there, too, trailing my tongue through the crack of her arse a few times before returning to her cunt.

I suppose Britta knew she was about to come, because it wasn’t long at all before she had her daughter on the verge, too. Astrid’s low moan swiftly mounted into a choked cry, then a shriek. “Mum!”

By then I’d taken Britta’s clitoris into my mouth, sucking it like a tiny nipple. Honestly, I was mainly going on pure instinct, assisted by close reading of lesbian stories I’d unearthed on the internet. My clumsy efforts seemed to bear fruit, though, when Britta’s hips began to move forward and back as if she was trying to fuck my face. Maybe she really was.

Suddenly her body went steel-rigid, and she gave a loud cry that would’ve been far louder if it hadn’t been muffled by her daughter’s pussy. Astrid was shaking all over, clutching the sheets as she rode out her orgasm, finally going limp.

I continued to lavish attention on Britta’s cunt and arse until she clutched my shoulder. “Th-that’s enough, sweetie,” she stammered.

Rolling onto my back, I masturbated in a frenzy, in desperate need of my own release. It came a moment later, and I relaxed into the mussed sheets with a blissful sigh. A moment to catch my breath, then I opened my eyes to see my new lovers nestled together, Britta gently rocking Astrid in her arms.

I ached to join them, but it felt wrong to break into such intimacy between parent and child. But when Britta’s eyes opened to see me watching, she beckoned, whispering, “Come here, sweetheart.”

In a flash I scooted over to Astrid and Britta, who drew me into their warm embrace. We cuddled for a bit, then started exchanging kisses. These were more tender than lustful. At that point, the three of us were fairly done in, but we still bubbled over with affection.

Astrid reached for my hand. “Well, Sandy – that was quite the surprise, don’t you think? Can’t say I was expecting it! You didn’t mind Mum joining in, did you?”

I smiled at her, every atom of me radiating love for this bewitching girl. “Oh, I thought it was weird at first when she kissed me, and especially when she kissed you! But in the end, well, it was awesome.”

Britta spoke up. “Okay, girls, it’s time to go to sleep. We’ll discuss this tomorrow over breakfast.”

Breakfast? I abruptly sat up. “Oh, hell. Mum’s expecting me home soon!”

“Just ring her up,” Astrid said. “Tell her I invited you to stay the night. Will she be okay with that?”

“Um, sure,” I said. Getting to my feet, I looked around for my pants, finding them at the foot of the bed. I fished my phone from the back pocket, then phoned Mum to explain the situation, hoping she wouldn’t ask too many questions.

Luckily, she only had one. “Should I bring you some clean clothes for tomorrow?”

That made me smile. “No thanks, Mum. I’ll just come home early and get sorted there.”

“All right. Have a good time, angel.”

God, if she only knew how good. “I will, Mum. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Ending the call, I placed my phone on the vanity and crawled back into bed to join my new lovers. I kissed Astrid’s ear, then whispered, “So… are we girlfriends now?”

She turned to give me a quick kiss. “If you want us to be, then yes, we are.” Giving me a bashful smile, she added, “I love you, Sandy.”

It took everything I had to keep from bursting into tears, but somehow I managed it. “I love you, Astrid,” I said, fumbling for her hand and bringing it to my lips. “Forever and always.”

Still holding hands, we settled in for the night.

My heart was so full that I wondered if I would sleep at all, but I surprised myself by drifting off within minutes. The last thought I remember having was how strange this series of events had been. Astrid’s painful accident had torn me apart inside. But in the end, that catastrophe helped make my dream come true.

***

Tracy had a huge grin on her face as she approached me on the school grounds the next day. “Oh, wow!” she gushed. You look so… happy. It’s been ages since I last saw you smile like that. As if you’re walking on air! Did you win the lottery or something?”

“Or something,” I replied with a wink. “And yeah, I’m really happy.”

Tracy came to an abrupt halt. “Hey, wait a minute. Is this something to do with Astrid? No way! But yeah, I see it in your eyes.” Seizing my arm, she steered me off to the hedge. “That’s what happened, huh?  You and Astrid got together. I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, she had me come by for a sleepover. We’re friends now.”

Tracy narrowed her eyes. “Oh come on, Sandy. The look on your face? In fact, your whole attitude. You’re more than just friends now, aren’t you? C’mon, bitch – no keeping secrets from your best friend!”

She was right, of course. I had to be truthful, though I didn’t want to make her jealous. “Oh, my God, Trace… we made out, and it was wonderful. We’re girlfriends now.”

Tracy’s eyes sparkled mischievously. “We made out,” she mimicked. “Bollocks, girl. You two did a lot more than just make out. Look at you, you’re blushing. Just say the words, Sandy. Look me in the eye and say, ‘Yes, we fucked’.”

I blurted, “Okay, okay! You’re right.” Taking a deep breath, I murmured, “Yes, we fucked.”

Tracy seized both my hands. “Oh, wow, Sandy! That’s amazing. You deserved it, after crushing on her all this time.”

I was relieved she was happy for me, especially after dropping hints that she wanted me herself. “So you’re not upset with me? I’ve been thinking about what you said the other day. God, I’m so dense. I had no idea you’d been thinking about me that way.”

“Upset? Nah, not me. All I wanted was to get in your knickers and have a bit of fun. We’ve always been so close, it just seemed like the natural thing for us to do. But I knew you were really in love with Astrid, so I never pushed things.”

I gave her hands a squeeze. “Tracy, you’re the best. I kind of wish we had, at least once, but now…”

“Hey, don’t worry yourself, we’re still mates. So what happens now? Are you and Astrid gonna be a public thing, or will you keep it secret?”

I shook my head. “We’re not hiding anything. We discussed it with Britta – that’s Astrid’s mum – and decided the best thing is to be open about it. Oh, and I finally told my mum that I’m gay.”

Tracy gasped. “Oh, my. How’d that go? Did she, like, freak the fuck out?”

“That’s what I expected, but no, she’s totally fine. Turns out she figured out I was in love with Astrid ages ago. Mum never thought I had a chance with her, so she’s thrilled by how things worked out.”

“Astrid’s mum is named Britta, right? Saw her coming to fetch Astrid a time or two. Yeh, she’s a looker. Don’t you think? Fuck me, I’d love to get her between the sheets!”

That gave me an idea. “Really? Hey, I can introduce you to her. She’d love that, I bet.”

Tracy’s jaw dropped. “You – you’re serious? Astrid’s mum is into girls?”

“Oh, she definitely is!”

“How do you know that?” Tracy exclaimed, clutching her head with both hands. “Oh, fuck, don’t tell me. Well, okay, yeah, you do have to tell me…” Her attention was captured by the approach of a very familiar car. “Oh, my God, I think that’s her!”

Sure enough, Britta’s car was pulling up at the school gate. “Didn’t you tell me Astrid wouldn’t be back for another three weeks?” Tracy said.

“At least that long. But yeah, that’s her mum’s car. Wonder what’s going on?”

Then the passenger door swung open, and my heart soared as Astrid emerged, struggling with her crutches. She gave me a clumsy wave, and I hastened toward her. “Come on, Trace,” I told my friend, glancing back at her. “No time like now.”

Astrid beamed when she saw me, and we met in a snug embrace. “Oh, Sandy… I had to come, even though I shouldn’t be here yet. I just… I already miss you.”

Britta came around the car, “Good morning, Sandy.” She glanced at Tracy. “Hello. Are you one of Sandy’s friends?”

I knew Tracy was a bold one, but this time she shocked me. “I’m Tracy. And I’ve been dying to meet you.”

Britta smiled, a glimmer of interest in her eyes. “Oh? Well, here’s your chance.” She offered Tracy a hand. “I’m Britta… Astrid’s mother.”

“Hello, Britta.” She glanced from mother to daughter. “I see the resemblance. You’re every bit as beautiful, by the way.”

Britta was still holding Tracy’s hand. “Aren’t you the charmer! I’ll bet you say that to all the single mothers.”

“Only the sexy ones,” Tracy replied.

“You’re quite the package yourself, young lady,” Britta replied, looking my friend up and down, clearly liking what she saw.

“Mum,” said Astrid, rolling her eyes.”Can you please behave yourself?”

“Why?” Tracy asked her.

“Why, indeed?” Britta echoed.

“I mean… you shouldn’t flirt with girls right outside school, Mum. Get her phone number, for God’s sake!”

We heard the bell ring; time to report to class. Tracy was already tearing a sheet of paper from her notebook. She scribbled her name and number, accompanied by a couple of drawn hearts, folded it up and handed it to Britta. “Call me after nine tonight.”

Gazing into my friend’s eyes, Britta carefully tucked the note into her bra. “We’ll talk then.”

“Oh, I’m planning on a lot more than just conversation,” Tracy said. “Wear as little as possible.”

Britta loved it. “Maybe nothing at all.” she purred.

I was flat-out gobsmacked. In all the years of being best mates with Tracy, I’d never seen her acting or talking like this.

“Mum!” Astrid hissed. “Enough! They’ve got to get to class!”

All right, then. You girls get going before you’re late. Sandy, we’ll see you after school, yes?” I gave a quick nod. “Tracy, we’ll speak later. Nine o’clock. Now hurry!”

Tracy and I hastened into the building, making our way to Mrs. Wyatt’s class.

“What was that?” I asked her as we hurried down the corridor. “Fuck me, I thought you were about to lift your skirt and show her your knicks!”

She barely heard me, just stared ahead with a dreamy expression. “Oh, my lord, Sandy… she’s even hotter than I remembered!” Her eyes met mine as we approached the classroom door. And just before we entered, she whispered, “I think I’m in love.”

***

Time, rest and loads of physio got Astrid back into the gym. I did everything I could to help her through the healing process. This would be her first competition since the injury. I tried not to set my expectations too high, not after such a long break from competition.

Astrid had other ideas though. That day, she was unstoppable. She won two disciplines, came second in two others, and third in one. Overall, she had her best ever result. I was giddy with joy, and Astrid was over the moon.

Coach Holdsworth was thrilled, too. She actually gave me a big hug after Astrid’s final routine. “She’s done it, Sandy. She’s the champion!”

I was now part of the gymnastics team; a sort of ‘second’ to Astrid. I glanced up to the stands where Tracy and Britta were seated to see waving and cheering. When they spied me, I blew them kisses.

Wondering where Astrid had got to, I spotted her speaking to a woman I’d not seen before. I sidled over to the coach. “Who’s that talking to Astrid?”

The coach shook her head. “I don’t know her… wait. I think… Oh, I know who that is. She’s the National Women’s Gymnastics team coach. Crikey, I didn’t know she was here today. Hmmm… I wonder if she’s considering Astrid for the national team?”

Astrid seemed to be in a daze as she walked towards us. “What’s doing?” I asked her.

I saw tears in her eyes as she struggled to find her voice. “I’m… I’m going to Paris, Sandy. I’ve been s-selected for the European Championships!” She began to sob.

We drew her into an embrace. I heard the coach murmur, “My first ever girl to make the national team. I’m proud of you, Astrid.”

For a moment, I forgot where we were. Kissing her on the mouth, I said, “It’s only what you deserve, my love. You’ve earned it and then some.”

Coach Holdsworth glanced from Astrid to me, a puzzled look on her face. But then she laughed. “How did I not see that before? You two, you’re a couple! Maybe you gave her that extra little something, Sandy.”

Astrid took my hand. “She did, Coach. She did. Sandy is the love of my life. What she gave me… it made the difference between being a competitor and being a winner.”

“I’m thrilled for you both,” Coach Holdsworth said, grinning hugely. Laying a hand on my shoulder, she added, “Sandy, you take good care of our champion. All right, Astrid, hit the showers!”

Hugging me once more, Astrid whispered, “I’ll be back!” With that, she left for the changing rooms. I took a moment to admire her taut arse, already anticipating the celebration to come once I had my lover naked and between the sheets.

I decided to give Britta and Tracy the good news, but once I’d made it up into the stands, there was no sign of them, just a note on the bench. It read, Left something in the car, gone to look for it – back in a while. xxoo, Britta

I knew what they were really looking for, and where it was: in each other’s knickers!

***

By then, my best friend and Astrid’s mum had been lovers for two months. As Tracy put it, “We went off like a couple of bombs!” Of course, they had to keep their relationship a strict secret, so there could be no going on dates… then again, that left them with more time for sex.

We didn’t want there to be secrets between us, so Britta, Astrid and I sat down with Tracy and told her  about the threesome we’d had the night before she met Britta. I was nervous, worried Tracy might react badly – especially when Britta confessed to having made love to her daughter, and Astrid admitted to returning the favour.

To our surprise, not only was Tracy fine with it, she expressed jealousy at having missed out on our little sex party. “If you ever feel like getting together like that again… well, I’d be into it!” she announced.

Who could resist an invitation like that? Much as I adored Astrid, it was hard not to feel a measure of regret at never having tried it on with Tracy at least once. I definitely wanted another chance to fuck Britta. And going by the smiles Astrid and her mother wore, they liked Tracy’s suggestion as much as I did.

So without a word, we led Tracy to the king-sized bed in Britta’s room, where the four of us stripped off. Once naked, we began to swap kisses that quickly grew deep and passionate. Moments later, our little orgy was in full swing.

We fucked for hours, coupling in every combination – driving each other to orgasm, resting, then starting all over again. Tracy was enthralled by the sight of Britta and Astrid licking each other at the same time while I ate her from behind. “So wrong,” she whispered, “but so, so hot!” All in all, a truly magical evening.

Wonderful as the experience was, it’s not one we often repeat. We’re still mainly two loving couples who want to stay focused on our one-on-one relationships. That said, we’ll still get together every now and then on special occasions for group sex.

***

Tucking Britta’s note into my pocket, I descended the stands, then took a seat by the changing rooms to wait for Astrid. A familiar pulse was thrumming between my legs, and I allowed my imagination to drift once more, imagining what awaited us when we got back to Britta’s place. Mum, bless her, had given me permission to spend the night there, knowing full well the kind of games we’d be getting up to.

Well, Mum didn’t know everything. I found myself wondering what Tracy and Britta were getting up to in the car, hoping they didn’t wear each other out. This seemed like an ideal night for the four of us to celebrate Astrid’s triumph together in the same bed.

My reverie evaporated when the door to the changing room opened, and Astrid emerged. She was in sweats and battered trainers, face scrubbed clean, hair damp from the shower… and more beautiful than ever.

As always, my heart leapt to see her. I seemed to float from my seat and drift through space to reach Astrid, wanting nothing in the world but to be in her arms, whispering words of love.

The End

The Story Thus Far

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter Twelve: A sleepover is in progress at Terry’s place while he is out. When the girls retire to their rooms, Halee phones her girlfriend Bethany and puts her on speaker to hear her younger sister Naomi and Chelsey going at it through their adjoining walls, and a good time is had by all. Upon returning home, Terry does some work on an idea for a new novel after months of inaction. Mallory is still unsure what to do with the family farm, and Nettie runs some ideas about the recent kidnapping case past Agent Ramscone.

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

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

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

by Rachael Yukey

You’ll never be alone
I am your heart, I am your home
Your brick, your steel, your stone
I hope you know that you’ll never be alone
Sweet & Lynch, 2023

“I’m not sure what to do with this place, now that I have it,” said Jamie Nelson. “It’s in way worse shape than I thought.”

Mallory chuckled. “I’m kind of in the same boat, except I knew exactly how bad mine is.”

Jamie, Mallory, Julie and Julie’s little sister Vicky were standing in the front yard of Jamie’s childhood home. The massive three-story structure was one of the largest houses in Dickson, and the oldest by almost a decade. When Jamie’s parents retired to Florida, she’d bought the house rather than let it go on the market. It had been vacant for almost four years.

Jamie, Mallory reflected, had not changed much. An attractive woman of thirty, she still kept her light brown hair tied back in a ponytail; still favored clothing reminiscent of the Age of Aquarius. Today she had on an orange ankle-length skirt with a dark brown hem and waistband, the whole thing inlaid with hand-stitched patterns, and a simple black off-the-shoulder peasant’s blouse with a shawl to match the skirt. Her feet were shod with sandals. She still didn’t bother with makeup; had never needed it.

Right then, she was grinning. “Yeah, but you inherited yours, little sister. I’m the dimbulb who bought this pile.”

Julie, her slender body clad in hip-hugging jeans and a Colorado Engineering Solutions tee, tipped her a sidelong glance. “I’m surprised you did. Are you planning on moving back?”

Jamie spread her hands. “I’d kinda like to, but for the moment, no. When I’m not touring, I’m a session player, and there’s like three cities in the entire country where you can do that and make steady money. I’m not in love with LA, but it’s where I’m at. For the moment, anyway.”

Vicky, sunlight glinting off her freshly dyed pink hair, regarded Jamie thoughtfully. “I remember Dad saying that it’s easier to become a rock star than a professional session musician. Is that true?”

Jamie chuckled. “Little sister, there are exactly five session guitarists in North America making real money. It was four until a couple of years ago, but Tim Jessop is an A-lister now. He got there because I’ve been taking touring jobs lately and haven’t been available for sessions as much. It’s almost impossible to get a foot in the door, because hiring an unknown is a risk. Producers have deadlines and budgets. They don’t like risk.” She cocked her head at Vicky. “I hear you’ve become quite the shred demon yourself.”

Vicky shrugged. “I’m not bad, but I’ve been getting more into classical guitar lately. I just passed my Grade Ten.”

Jamie let out a low whistle. “I don’t know much about the grades; I play just enough classical that I can use it on sessions if I have to. But if I remember right, Grade Ten is way past ‘not bad’.”

A smile was playing across Mallory’s lips. “It is.”

Four heads turned as a light blue Chevy pickup rounded the corner and pulled up to the curb. The driver’s door popped open, and a slender brunette of medium height slid to the ground. Emma Fronning rounded the nose of the vehicle, her slim yet deliciously curvy body coming into view. Skintight jeans hugged every contour, terminating in fashionable black ankle boots. Everything about Emma, from her straight brown hair to her china doll features, from her mincing walk to the way her mauve v-neck accentuated her breasts, exuded sex.

All of which fell apart when she squealed and broke into a run, seizing Mallory and lifting her from the ground in the mother of all bear hugs.

“Oof!” Mallory grunted, twining both arms around her old friend’s shoulders. Planting a big sloppy kiss on Mallory’s cheek, Emma put her down and turned to Julie, embracing the taller woman with equal enthusiasm.

“We missed you, too,” said Julie as she returned the hug, her chin resting on Emma’s shoulder.

“It’s so fucking good to see you,” Emma murmured in her ear. They parted, and Emma turned to Jamie. The two embraced warmly.

“It’s been too long, little sister,” said Jamie.

Emma finally turned to Vicky. “Bitch Junior here I saw just a few weeks ago,” she said, “but get your ass over here anyway.” Laughing, Vicky stepped into Emma’s waiting arms.

Letting Vicky go, Emma turned her attention to the weathered home before them. “I drive past this house every time I come down to see my folks,” she said, “but I guess I don’t really look at it. I’m thinking it might need a couple coats of paint, Jamie.”

Jamie grimaced. “Yeah, that’ll sure fix it all up. Come on.” She made her way up the walk, the rest of them trailing in her wake. She had to jiggle her key around a little before the stiff tumblers turned.

To Mallory, the entryway seemed barren without shoes on the floor and coats on the hooks. They passed through, a light haze of dust rising from the old hardwood with each step. The entryway arch led into the living room, and Jamie snapped on the light switch as she passed. The TV and personal effects were missing, but all the old furniture was still in place. Sheets were thrown over the couch, the loveseat, the recliner and the bookcase. A light film of dust coated everything in sight.

“Your folks left the furniture, huh?” said Julie.

“They left everything that wouldn’t fit in a small U-Haul,” Jamie replied. “Most of the books are still under that sheet, and there’s still enough dishes and stuff in the kitchen that I’m able to cook. They just bailed out and started over.”

The five women made their way from one room to the next, Jamie in the lead. Evaluating the house was one of two reasons she’d rented a car and driven down from Fargo during a two-day break in Cathy Harrison’s Summer Freakout tour, where she was featured as lead guitarist. The other was to visit with her old friends.

When they reached the third floor, Julie broke off from the group, making her way to where the hallway came to a corner, branching off in two directions, which left a room-sized section of one corner of the house with no access point.

Julie laid her hand on the cracked old plaster. “I can’t believe no one’s ever gotten around to breaking a hole in this wall and seeing what’s back there,” she said. “I’ve been dying of curiosity ever since I first saw it.’

Jamie laughed. “We never could talk Dad into it,” she said. “Now that it’s mine I’m gonna find out for sure, but it has to wait until I have some free time. Maybe when I’m back in August.” She turned to look at Emma. “Mal did tell you we’re playing the festival this year, right?”

Emma grinned. “No worries, I’ll be here. Actually, starting the first of July, I have six weeks off.” She spread her arms wide. “You’re looking at a bonafide software developer, ladies. Bye bye IT! I just landed a programming job.”

“Hey, all right!” Julie crowed, enveloping Emma in a hug. The others crowded around, offering hugs and congratulations.

“I thought you were still working on your CIS degree,” said Mallory.

“Oh, I am, and I’ll finish it. Only six credits left, so I’d be stupid not to. But I know someone at Northtech, and managed to get an interview without it. So Arvig can get fucked! I put in my notice, and I’m gonna take a little break before I start the new job.”

“That’s great, hon,” said Mallory, giving Emma’s shoulders a squeeze.

Jamie was standing next to a rope that hung from a handle set into a ceiling hatchway. She tugged, and the hatch swung down, bringing the pull-down ladder along with it. “Shall we?” she inquired. Without waiting for a reply, she scooted up the ladder, taking care not to tread on the hem of her skirt.

Mallory brought up the rear. By the time she stepped off the ladder and into the attic, Jamie had already turned the light on.

“Whoa,” Vicky was saying. “This was your bedroom?”

Jamie didn’t speak. Nobody had come up to cover the furniture, so everything was pretty much as Mallory remembered it. The side walls sloped inward. Jamie’s narrow bed was still in its old place; the faded armchair and loveseat facing the wall of stereo shelving. The lava lamps, the record collection and the books were all gone, but the old posters of rock guitarists still adorned the walls. That wasn’t all that remained.

“Your stereo is still here,” said Mallory, surprised. “So’s the Wurlitzer—and omigosh. Your old Vox amp!”

Jamie carefully eased herself into her old chair, trying not to stir up the dust. “I was moving around a lot, the first few years after I left,” she said. “By the time I got settled, I had better stereo equipment. The guitar amp I left here so I had something to play on when I came home. The Wurlitzer—you don’t even wanna know what a pain in the ass it was to haul that damn piano up here in the first place. I never got around to getting it back out.”

Mallory brushed at the old piano stool, wincing at the ensuing cloud of dust. Then she sat, switching the Wurlitzer on. Flexing her fingers, she gave the electric piano a minute to warm up, noted the position of the volume slider with the automatic ease of habit, then placed both hands on the keys. Dropping a chord with her left hand, she let loose an allegro run with her right, then slowed it down, idly playing a melody while arpeggiating through a sequence of chords.

“Damn,” said Julie, her voice almost a whisper. “That brings back some memories, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” said Jamie. There were tears in her eyes.

Vicky was wandering the edges of the space. “This is really freakin’ cool,” she said. “I can’t believe it was your room.”

Jamie sniffled, then cracked a grin. “I got kicked up here in sixth grade,” she said. “I was constantly playing my guitar, and the entire family was bitching about the racket. So they shoved me into the attic, Dad packed the joists with egg cartons to muffle the sound, and here I stayed till I moved out. I wasn’t thrilled at first, but in the long run, it totally worked to my advantage.”

“Sure saved us a lot of trouble!” said Julie. The four women cracked up.

Vicky looked from one to the other, puzzled. “What’s so funny?”

Emma giggled. “Making music isn’t the only noisy activity in the world, darlin’.”

Vicky’s eyes narrowed, then widened in dawning comprehension. “Oh,” she said. “I get it. I think.” Her cheeks were turning a darker hue of pink.

Sauntering across the room, Julie wrapped a casual arm around her sister’s waist. “We got friendly in all the right ways, kiddo. Why—aren’t your parties that much fun?”

“We, um, well—I guess we top out at Truth or Dare.”

“We also played Truth or Dare,” Emma said primly. “But we only did dares.” They cracked up again—all except Vicky, who was getting very interested in her feet.

Mallory abruptly stopped playing. “We’re not, um, making you uncomfortable, are we?”

Emma, who’d been opening her mouth to speak, seemed to think better of it. “Oops—sorry, Vicky. We’ll shut up now.”

Vicky looked up at the others, offering a hesitant smile. “It’s okay. I guess I kind of already knew that you guys used to fool around. And I know Mom is bisexual. Anyhow, it’s cool that you were all able to, y’know, be together like that without anyone getting hurt. Or in trouble. I just wish—oh, never mind.” She was getting red again.

Julie took her sister by the shoulders, turning her so they were face-to-face. “You can say whatever’s on your mind here without being judged, Vick,” she murmured. “If there was one place where girls could come and just let it all hang out, this was it. One of the saddest days ever was when Jamie moved to LA.”

“I don’t even remember that,” said Vicky. “I mean, I recall Jamie coming over sometimes, but not when she left.”

“You’d have been five, I think,” Mallory chimed in. She was playing again, this time a minor-key tune over some jazzy chords. “Old enough to remember, but maybe not enough for it to register. Jamie stuck around for a couple of years after she graduated. 80 Proof was getting looked at by a couple of major labels, and we were kind of hoping to get picked up. Once that ship sailed, the older members started drifting off. But—”

She paused, taking a moment to work through a rapid run of dense harmony that had occurred to her on the spur of the moment. “But anyway, Jamie didn’t hang out at your house much, and mine not at all. Mostly we came here. So it probably wasn’t really on your radar.”

“Whoa—play that again, little sister,” said Jamie. She was holding up her phone.

“You mean—this bit?” Mallory segued seamlessly into the chord sequence she’d unleashed a moment ago.

“Yep—that. There, I got it. Y’know, that could be something good. Maybe we should write a couple of new things before the show in August.”

“I’d be game,” said Mallory.

“Anyway,” said Julie, her hands still resting on Vicky’s shoulders, “if you’ve got something to get off your chest, this is like the safest of all the safe spaces on the planet.”

“It’s—it’s nothing,” Vicky mumbled. She ducked out from under Julie’s touch and moved away, slow steps carrying her towards the end wall with the stereo shelving. She fixed her eyes on the tiny window set into the wall just above Jamie’s old turntable. The roof of the next house over was just visible through a network of cobwebs.

Jamie came up behind her. “I don’t know you real well, little sister,” she said, “but your big sis is one of my best friends ever, and your dad’s been a real mentor to me. You got stuff you need to talk about? Spill. We’re here for you.”

Vicky heaved a heavy sigh. “Fine. So, we did a slumber party just before school got out. Crissy Moen’s birthday, six girls. I was surprised to get invited—I’m kind of the weird girl, y’know? But so’s Patty Spisak, and she was there too. Anyway—oh my God, it was awkward right off the bat. We were all supposed to bring a playlist of music. I avoided any classical stuff, but I thought they’d like some rock. So mine got put on first, and we got through like two songs before my playlist got voted off the island. And then—”

She turned to face the others. “A couple of them were bitchy about it, too. Mostly Sarah Spencer, but everyone always goes along with her, you know? Crissy was cool—she made the rest of them lay off. But anyway, we got to playing Truth or Dare. Some of it got a little—I dunno—personal. We got to talking about who’d had sex with who, and I told them I haven’t had sex with anybody. They didn’t say it, but the vibe was like, of course, she’s a virgin—what guy would want to sleep with a weird-ass chick like her?”

There was a hitch in Vicky’s voice as she uttered the last few words, and tears spilled onto her cheeks, eyeliner running. “So later, after we got in our sleeping bags, I overheard Sarah and Patty whispering to each other. Sarah was saying stuff like, you know, she’s probably a virgin because she’s a dyke, like her sister. And Patty was agreeing with her.” Vicky’s lower lip was beginning to quiver. “Crissy t-told them straight-out to knock it off, so they shut up and went to sleep. But I, I—” Breaking into sobs, she covered her face with both hands.

Jamie stepped forward to take the weeping girl in her arms. The others clustered around. Mallory, who had stopped playing over a minute before, got off the stool and crossed the room. The four women gathered around Vicky, making her the center of a big, complicated group hug.

“It’s okay to be different,” Jamie was whispering. “It’s okay to be a virgin. It’s okay to be a dyke, or straight, or to just love it all. Whatever you are, it’s good, little sister.”

“Yup,” said Emma, “and you can just tell Sarah Spencer to choke on a bag of dicks. Or maybe I will. Her aunt used to hang out with the Posse sometimes.”

“Yeah,” said Mallory. “She liked pussy, too.”

Vicky let out a tear-laden chuckle. “Really?”

“Yup,” said Julie. “But what about Crissy—we’re talking about Cindy’s niece, right? Sounds like she might be a real friend.”

Vicky sniffled; wiped her eyes. “Yeah,” she said. Her voice was still teary, but she seemed to be regaining a sense of control. “She did make the others stop being bitchy, and she apologized for them a couple days later. It still hurts, though.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” said Jamie. “But fuck them, little sister. You just be who you are, and be proud. Most girls like that, they’re trying so hard to fit in, they don’t even know who they are.”

Vicky shifted, still nestled in the epicenter of the group embrace. “This is really nice,” she said, “but I need a little space. And a tissue, if anyone has one.”

The circle split up, although everyone stayed close. DIgging in her purse, Jamie came up with some Kleenex and passed it over. “Thanks.” Vicky wiped her face, then blew her nose. Her makeup was all over the place.

“I guess part of the problem is that I don’t really understand who I am all the time, either,” she admitted.

“Of course you don’t,” said Emma. “You’re fifteen. It’s okay to still be figuring stuff out. Hell,” she let out a bark of laughter. “I’m twenty-seven, and I’m still working on it.”

“That’s because mentally, you’re closer to five,” Julie teased.

“True that,” said Emma, grinning. “So what is it you’re confused about, anyway? If you want to tell us, that is. Between us, I’d say we’ve been through it all.”

“Well—there’s sex, for one thing. I think I must be bi, like mom. But—and I know this is a stupid way to think about it—there’s always this little tickle in my head that says you should know who you’re into, not just be attracted to everybody. Because that’s what it’s like for me—I don’t have a type. Cheerleaders? They turn me on. Long-haired rock dudes? Hell, yeah. Football players? Bring it on. Then there’s Jennie Perkins, she’s overweight, and somehow that’s hot too. Or Josie Baker. Her birth name is John, and she’s transitioning. I so want to have sex with her. I mean—God. Is there something wrong with me?”

“Ever heard the term ‘pansexual’?” said Julie. “Maybe that’s you.”

Emma took Vicky by the shoulders, gazing soberly into her eyes. “I’m going to ask you a question, Vicky, and I want you to think about your answer very carefully. Do you think you might have a cookware fetish?”

The room exploded with laughter.

“Do not take advice from this woman,” Julie said, steering Emma away from Vicky. “When they handed out the ability to think logically, her ancestors were off tipping cows.”

“Basically, it means you’re attracted to a wide range of people, regardless of gender or identity,” said Mallory. “And what could possibly be wrong with that?”

“It makes life a lot simpler,” said Emma. “You can just fuck the whole world! Victoria Hanson, the one-woman global orgy. Has a ring to it, don’t you think?”

Everyone was laughing again. “Maybe I’d better start with just fucking one person,” said Vicky, still chuckling. “I haven’t even got that far yet.”

“Just because it’s your first time, that doesn’t mean it has to be with a single partner,” Emma pointed out. “I had my first orgasm with three other girls in the room, every one of them stark naked.”

“Yes—yes, she did,” said Julie with a grin.

“Well,” said Vicky, “I’ve already had my first—I mean—” she trailed off, her face flushing again.

“So you touch yourself,” said Julie. “Of course you do. So does everyone else you know, including those dumb bitches at the slumber party.”

Mallory closed her eyes, listening carefully to her inner voice, that strange instinct that had guided her in sexual situations since she was eleven years old, the unerring compass that made her the leader of so many carnal escapades.

Stepping forward, she brought her mouth to within inches of Vicky’s ear. “What you need more than anything is for someone else to touch you,” she crooned, her voice low and sultry. “Isn’t it?”

“It’s all I th-think about sometimes,” Vicky mumbled.

Mallory took Vicky’s hand, lifting it to chest level. With two fingers, she began caressing the back of that hand, then all the way up and down each of the fingers in turn. Vicky was trembling, her breathing unsteady.

“Does that feel good?” Mallory whispered.

Vicky only nodded. Then Julie moved in, using a single finger to delicately trace her sister’s arm. The others followed, gentle hands working their way across the teenager’s body, trailing across her clothes, caressing the exposed flesh.

When Jamie’s hand slipped under the maroon blouse, caressing the smooth skin of the belly, Vicky let out a small moan.

“Where—” she gasped, “where are we going with this?”

“Wherever you want it to go,” Mallory’s voice was still a breathy whisper. “If anyone does something you don’t want them to, you call it.” Releasing Vicky’s hand, she stepped around behind the girl, Emma obligingly moving out of her way. With the finger of both hands, Mallory began to softly caress the sides and back of Vicky’s neck.

“Hold on,” murmured Jamie. “I have a better idea. This way.” Taking Vicky by the hand, she led them all to the ladder. One by one, they descended to the floor below.

Moments later, they were filing into the master bedroom, once the domain of Jamie’s parents. Jamie began rolling back the dropcloth covering the king-sized bed, moving slowly so as not to raise a cloud of dust. Emma moved in to help, but not before catching Mallory and Julie’s attention and jerking her head towards Vicky, who almost seemed to be in a trance.

Mallory and Julie orbited the pink-haired teen, caressing, touching, teasing as Vicky shivered deliciously, dreamy-eyed with pleasure. In the meantime, it took Emma and Jamie less than a minute to remove the dropcloth. The bed lacked blankets, but a sheet and single pillow remained. With the covering removed, it was the one surface in the room free of dust.

Taking her sister’s hand, Julie walked Vicky to the bed and helped her to sit. Mallory bent double, laced both hands under Vicky’s knees, and swung the teen’s combat-booted feet onto the mattress. Then the four women were surrounding the girl once more, tenderly exploring her clothed body. Emma’s hand was under the blouse, finding its way to the front of Vicky’s training bra.

“Sit up for a second,” she whispered in Vicky’s ear. The girl obeyed, and Emma’s deft fingers slipped around behind, unclasping the offending garment and whisking it away. As Vicky lay back down, Emma began caressing a breast beneath her shirt, while Jamie sought out the other one, her fingers grazing a nipple. Vicky moaned again, her body shifting restlessly.

Mallory was sliding her fingers over a kneecap, then under, which elicited a jerk of Vicky’s leg and a nervous giggle. “Um, s-sorry,” Vicky stammered. “A little ticklish there.”

Mallory sensed this was the moment to make her move. “Are you ticklish higher up?” Not waiting for an answer, she slipped her hand beneath the knee-length white skirt, sliding along the inside of a smooth, soft thigh. “Omigosh,” Vicky mumbled, hips rising, parting her legs to allow Mallory greater access.

Emma was now tracing Vicky’s mouth with her thumb, fondling a breast with the other hand. Jamie was lavishing loving attention on the other breast while tracing the line of Vicky’s jaw.

Julie found herself longing to explore her younger sister in a way she never had before. She’d always found Vicky beautiful, but never seriously considered making love to her. What would she do if I slipped a hand into her panties? Julie wondered, but thrust the idea away just as it appeared. Best not. Don’t want to freak her out. Instead, she situated herself behind Vicky’s head, knees to either side, fingers running through pink hair, then dipping down to caress her sibling’s cheeks, ear, the line of the jaw.

“You’re safe here, Vick,” she said, her voice husky and soft. “You’re safe, you’re loved, and everyone is here for you.”

It was at this moment that Mallory allowed her fingers to slide across the front of Victoria’s white cotton panties, thrilled by the dampness she found along the line of the girl’s slit. Vicky’s body jerked, a choked cry escaping her lips. Grinning, Mallory applied a little pressure, taking up a circular motion. “Oh, shit,” Vicky moaned, now moving with small rhythmic thrusts against Mallory’s hand.

Clearly it was working for Vicky, but Mallory found the position awkward, putting too much of a strain on her wrist. Withdrawing her hand from beneath the girl’s skirt, she twisted around on the bed so as to slip her hand under the skirt’s waistband, then into Vicky’s panties, her fingers making contact with Vicky’s dripping pussy for the first time.

As her fingers brushed the teen’s clit, Vicky gave a tiny shriek, thrusting her hips. Encouraged, Mallory got to work, using two fingers to rub Vicky’s clit in a fast circular motion. The girl’s hips were now pumping frantically in fast, rhythmic thrusts. Her gasping, hitched breath was punctuated with occasional moans.

The other three women continued their ministrations, bathing the teenager in caresses. Julie leaned in close, whispering words of love and comfort into her sister’s ear. Then Vicky began to moan aloud, her hips beating the air, ass pounding into the mattress with each thrust. Finally she let out a long, strident wail, her body arching high as every muscle in her body quivered. Mallory allowed herself a lascivious smile as she rode with the girl’s orgasm.

Then Vicky’s muscles went limp, and she collapsed back to the bed, tears spilling from her eyes.

Julie leaned in. “Hey, sis,” she said, a hint of alarm in her voice. “You okay?”

Vicky nodded, clumsily wiping her face. “Y—yeah. I’ve just never—I’ve never felt so cared for in all—all my life, and it just feels so f—so fucking good—” She was sobbing now. Four bodies moved in to hold her, to give her the closeness she so desperately craved.

Her tears gradually tapered off, giving way to sniffles. She tried to remember when she’d ever felt as much a part of the whole as she did right then. Nothing came to mind.

“You okay, kiddo?” Julie asked again.

Extricating her arm from beneath Mallory, Vicky nodded. “I—I’m okay. That was happy crying; I’m not sure it’s ever happened to me before, but I just felt so good, you know? I always feel like such an outsider, except maybe at home with Mom and Dad. You guys brought me inside. Thanks for that.”

Julie kissed her sister’s cheek. “You’re always inside with me, sis. Remember that.”

For long, blissful minutes, no one spoke. No words were needed. The five women relaxed, shifting into more comfortable positions on the bed. Julie lay alongside her sister, holding her close while Jamie snuggled Vicky from the opposite side.

It was Emma who finally broke the silence. “When do you have to go back, Jamie?”

“I’m driving back to Fargo tomorrow night,” Jamie replied. “There were problems with the sound at the last couple shows, so day after tomorrow we’re doing an early soundcheck to try and sort it out. They might even drag Cathy out of her dressing room for it.”

Emma chuckled. “I guess being a big star usually means not having to do soundchecks.”

Jamie shrugged. “Most of the time the band doesn’t even do one. The techs just play our instruments for a few bars, and it’s good enough. We’re only doing it this time because they’re having issues out front. Our contract basically says ‘soundcheck as necessary’.”

“Well, hell,” said Emma, laughter in her voice. “That means you can’t bill them for extra services rendered.”

Jamie laughed with her. “For what this tour pays, I don’t have any complaints coming.”

“I imagine,” said Julie. “I think I read online that she got a whole new band for this run?”

Jamie spread her hands. “She wanted an all-female band. I guess it’s a statement about feminism or something. I don’t give a crap; I just wanted to go on the road. It’s tough to find a touring gig that pays what I get doing sessions.”

“It must be a pretty easy gig, too,” said Vicky. “I mean, what songs I’ve heard of hers even have guitar in them?”

“That’s what I thought going in,” said Jamie. “But it didn’t turn out that way. One of the reasons I got the gig is that she wanted to make her shows rock a little harder than the records, and the easiest way to get that is to throw some heavy guitar into the mix. She wanted me because I have a background in metal. So I had to sit down and figure out: what can I play that’ll give this more of an edge without stomping all over the feel?

“Plus, Cathy flat-out refuses to use backing tracks on stage, so everything’s live. I love that, but it means me and the keyboard player had to work out how to cover stuff that was recorded using twenty or thirty tracks, with just the two of us. It’s a pretty challenging gig. I was surprised.”

“That kinda makes me want to see one of the shows, and I don’t even like Cathy Harrison,” said Vicky.

“Cathy live is a whole different experience,” said Jamie. “If I’d had a little more notice I could have got you into the Fargo show. Maybe next time. We’re doing another six weeks this fall, and they’re still filling in some dates. Maybe there’ll be one you can see.”

“By the way, Jamie’s staying with Mal and me tonight,” said Julie. “Vick, Emma, you’re both invited.”

Emma shook her head. “Wish I could. Unfortunately, I have to work tomorrow. Don’t ever move out of your parent’s house, Vicky. Adulting fucking sucks.”

“When did you ever start adulting?” Julie asked with a sweet little smile.

“I gotta at least put on the act,” said Emma with a grin of her own.

“Vick?” Mallory ventured.

Desire warred with discipline, and Vicky knew it was written all over her face. She sighed. “I’d love to—but I’ve still got a couple hours of practice to get done tonight.”

Mallory put a hand on her arm. “Honey, you looked like you were about to be eaten by lions when you said that.”

Vicky shrugged. “People give me a lot of shit for noping out of things so I can practice.”

“You won’t get that with this bunch, little sister,” said Jamie. “Everyone here is in a field we couldn’t work in if we hadn’t put all of ourselves into learning it.”

Emma shook her head. “I’m just an IT wienie. Nothing special.”

Julie snorted. “Says the chick who just landed a job with a company that develops software for the space program and classified government projects. I would know. Northtech is doing all of the software for a project I’ll be heading up early next year.”

Jamie looked to Emma, eyebrows lifted. “I didn’t know that. Congrats, little sister—that’s one hell of a first programming gig. But even without that, my brother Matt works for the same company as you. He told me you hold a networking cert that only, like, four hundred people in the whole world have. True story?”

Emma shrugged. “The CCDE, yeah.”

“And there you go,” said Jamie, turning her eyes back to Vicky. “We’re all people who throw ourselves into what we do, and that’s why we get to do it. If you’re a Grade Ten classical guitar player at your age, that means you’re the same way. You’re among comrades in the trenches, little sister.”

“Thanks, Jamie.” Vicky was beaming.

“If you wanna hang out tomorrow, we can pick you up, Vick,” said Julie.

“Wait—how about this?,” Mallory said, her eyes lighting up. “You bring your guitar out to our place this afternoon, and we’ll leave you alone while you’re pumping the nylon. That’s how me and Julie have done things since we were twelve—we can exist in the same room for hours and not say a word. Just be together while we get our stuff done. If you want, I could even give you some critique. I’m not a classical guitarist, but I am a professor of music with plenty of students who play guitar. I know what to listen for.”

Vicky’s eyes lit up. “Really?! Yeah, I’m in!”

On to Chapter Fourteen!

by Emma

Chapter Four: Three Mommies, Twin Puppies, and a Brat Named Trouble

Arm in arm, Bunny and I descended the staircase, our giggles fading into a breathless hush as the scent of dinner drifted up.

This wasn’t just any dinner. The table—a single slab of long, dark mahogany, polished to a reflective sheen—was set for an all-out banquet. Silver gleamed; crystal glittered. The food was arranged with almost erotic attention to detail: pomegranates split open like lips, honey pooled around roasted figs, candied pecans, garlic venison, pale cheeses, grilled bourbon salmon over a summer salad with peach vinaigrette. There were eight sitting arrangements in total.

Bunny let out a delighted gasp. “Oooh, she’s spoiling us tonight!”

Now that I was dry and barefoot, the carpet underfoot felt deliciously thick, like stepping on a woven cloud. I curled my toes in its deep pile reflexively, my pussy still buzzing from Bunny’s kiss.

Miss Ashcroft noticed my kiss-smudged lips. Naturally. Silent approval blazed in her eyes.

She stood at the head of the table wearing only a spotless white apron tied around her waist with a dainty bow in the back, and deep red lipstick that matched the wine on the table. Her bare legs gleamed. Her breasts, full and high and lovely, pressed against the fabric, teasing the nipples without exposing them. “Ah, my girls.”

She walked slowly toward us, her tread silent on the thick carpet. Bunny bounced forward and practically leapt at her. Miss Ashcroft caught her with both arms, kissed her cheek, then released her gently with a pat to her tail.

“Place cards, Bunny.”

“Yes, Mommy!” She raced over to the sideboard and snatched up a small stack of folded cards, then began to skip around the table, propping one next to each plate. Every card had a name, done in an elegant cursive hand.

Miss Ashcroft studied me. “You wear your true self well, Lily.” Her eyes moved over my new outfit—the pleated miniskirt, the nearly transparent tank top, the pink collar—and lingered at my nipples. I was trembling inside with arousal, trying to remain cool and calm with little success.

Something about her seemed to soften and warm. “I know what you want, child,” she said. “From me, from my daughter, from all of us. And that wanting is what makes you beautiful.”

I was suffused with a delicious warmth, as if I’d swallowed a star. “Um, thank you,” I managed, throat dry. I ached to call her Mommy, but wasn’t brave enough to utter the word. Fingering my new little sister’s bottom right after discussing piss play was one thing, but…

The doorbell chimed.

“Ah.” Miss Ashcroft didn’t flinch. “Bunny, be a darling.” Bunny squealed and hopped toward the door with her tail bouncing. “Lily, come stand beside me. It’s perfectly all right if you feel nervous, but trust me, there’s no need.”

When Bunny opened the thick oaken door, a tall blonde woman appeared, dressed in a corset-dress of white brocade that flared at the hips like an antique bell. There was someone behind her that I couldn’t make out.

“Lily, darling, allow me the pleasure of presenting one of Lollipop Lane’s most artful residents. Miss Evangeline is what happens when grace seduces taste, and neither survives the encounter with their heterosexuality intact.” Miss Ashcroft gave my bottom a little squeeze. “You’ll adore her, just wait.”

The woman was positively beaming at me. “Oh, what an absolute diamond. Lily, I’m in love with you already.” Miss Evangeline’s voice was flavored with something exotic and European, and as her gaze swept over me, her hand flew to her breasts. Very dramatic.

High lace gloves covered her arms to the elbow…and out of nowhere there appeared a girl, clinging to one of Miss Evangeline’s arms.

No, two girls. Matching, mirrored, perversely wrong in the way only identically dressed twins could be. They each wore soft pink ballerina outfits that showed stockings up to loli-style garter belts…and that was all, besides having their hair tied up in twin buns that reminded me of puppy ears. Their eyes were bright blue, their bare slits fully exposed.

Miss Ashcroft placed a hand on my shoulder as if I might try to bolt. Fat chance of that. “These are Miss Evangeline’s daughters. On the left is Cherie, who cries during cunnilingus if you finger her in just the right spot. On the right is Petal, who’s terribly well-behaved until you tell her no.” She gave a mock sigh. “We call them the Broken Puppy Girls. They’re never more polite than when they’re plotting.” She leaned in close and whispered silkily, “They’ll try to climb into your bed later, but don’t worry. It’s considered rude not to let them. Girls, this is Lily. She’s fresh from the world’s cruelty and just beginning to understand how good it feels to be tongued.”

Before I could process that, the door creaked again and two more guests arrived.

If Miss Evangeline and her littles had been inspired by a sort of Lolita fashion sense, this woman seemed to have been influenced by Lara Croft. Her weathered and tanned leather jacket was unzipped low enough to show off the swell of perfect breasts under a thin gray tank top, sweat-darkened along the sternum like she’d just jogged in from a jungle chase, her skin bronzed by the sun. Denim cutoffs clung snugly, almost enough to outline her slit, cut indecently high to flaunt the full length of her sleek, athletic thighs. Healthy soil-dark hair was pulled back in a no-nonsense ponytail, and her plump lips looked made for the softest, most affectionate kisses.

I was immediately intimidated. This was obviously a woman who came hard, often, and never on her own.

Behind her, dragging her boots, came a girl barely older than me who looked like her favorite pastime was burning schoolbooks on the principal’s front porch. Hair buzzed in a radioactive red undercut, this punk-girl wore a too-short clubbing skirt, combat boots, and a tattered black tee with MOLEST ME MOMMY written in glitter across the chest. Her smeared red lipstick was evidence of a recent makeout session, as were a pair of hickeys fresh and red at her collarbone.

She was magnificently cool.

“Lily, darling,” Miss Ashcroft said smoothly, “this is Miss Rowan, our resident travel adventuress. She is the only woman I know who’s ever made a college professor orgasm in the back of a moving jeep during a firefight.”

“Miss Ashcroft exaggerates.” Miss Rowan smirked, peeling off her jacket. No bra. She smelled noticeably, blissfully, like fresh pheromonal sweat. Wowie. “It wasn’t a jeep. It was an armored Land Rover with a sunroof—the position required it. And it’s not like I was going down on her. I did the deed with my fingers.”

“And that charming little molestation menace at her heel,” Miss Ashcroft continued with fond affection, “is named Trouble. She’s absolutely impossible… and I’ve never sat on a more talented tongue.”

Trouble popped her gum and gave me the finger, eye-fucking me with prolonged intimidation while slipping her other hand beneath the waistband of her slutty skirt.

“She bites,” Miss Ashcroft whispered conspiratorially near my ear.

Trouble overheard us. “Goddamn right I do,” she hissed.

♡ ⚢ ♡ ⚢ ♡

“So,” the adventurous Miss Rowan said, slicing into a glistening fig and somehow making it feel like foreplay, “you’ve really never heard of the Lane before?”

I blinked. My fork hovered somewhere between my mouth and societal crisis. “I mean… I’ve heard rumors. The stuff girls talk about at school, mostly.’”

Miss Evangeline chuckled, soft and sensuous. “My love, those rumors are adorably incomplete.”

The puppy-twins giggled in an eerie kind of stereo. One of them, apropos of nothing, turned to Trouble and began licking—of all things—the punk girl’s tattooed shoulder. Her twin stared my way, smiling like she couldn’t wait to do something similar to me.

“Well,” Miss Rowan offered, spearing a chunk of pear with her fork, “we could tell her the truth. Or we could blindfold her and let her learn all our flavors by—”

“I’m not licking anything blindfolded tonight,” I said quickly.

“Fucking hell, girl, live a little.” Trouble—who also answered to “bratty bitch,” when Miss Rowan snapped her fingers—laughed as the little porcelain doll of a girl fondled her tits. “First time getting fucked by your mommy-lover is always scary. But you’ll love it. I can smell your cunt from here.”

Miss Ashcroft smirked, indulgent. “Language, darling.”

“She loves it,” Trouble insisted.

“I… I’m kinda sure I do,” I whispered into my glass.

Miss Evangeline dabbed at her lips with a damask napkin. “My girls and I came here after an unfortunate incident at a very repressive boarding academy in the Netherlands. They don’t allow collars to be shared by teachers and students. Not even beneath uniforms. Tragic.”

Whichever twin was nuzzling Trouble’s ear detached herself to declare, “I got expelled for kissing my piano teacher.”

“They were doing Netherlands kissing – that’s the sexy kind!” the other twin insisted, smiling affectionately at her mirror-image. Then she swivelled in her seat to face Bunny, who immediately began making booping noises before the two girls came together in a heated kiss.

“As you’ve no doubt noticed, we’re rather fond of mischief-makers here,” Miss Rowan offered. “In fact, I just got Trouble off parole. Lollipop Lane has better tasting brats than the penal system.”

“Can confirm,” Trouble said, her voice getting heavier, eyes falling at half-mast, “Mainly ‘cause I’ve tasted ‘em all. What about you, new girl? What brought you over?”

Everyone was looking my way, making me self-conscious – but I pushed those feelings away, forcing myself to make eye contact. They’re friends, I thought. Even if I barely know them, these are my people.  “I, uh… got kicked out of a party,” I began. “And I’ve been bullied at school for a couple years now, all because of a stupid crush I had on a teacher. Then there are my fucking parents, who pretty much hate me – y’know, they can’t deal with having a queer daughter. Anyway, about two hours ago Miss Ashcroft found me on a bus bench in the rain, crying and miserable. She offered me cocoa. And a new home.”

“Hell the fuck yes,” Trouble murmured. Instead of the expected rough teasing about the shitstorm that was my previous life, she raised her glass to me. “You’ve got a sweet, innocent ass just begging to be tongue-fucked, girl. What kind of porn do you watch?”

“She’s innocent,” Miss Ashcroft agreed, “but not fucked. Not yet.”

All the girls around the table shared glances and giggles. I tried to join in, but couldn’t stop thinking about the way my new guardian said, Not yet.

There I was, getting nibbled into my cult initiation, and all I could think about was how ready I was for these women and girls to really sink their teeth into me.

“So, um… what is the Lane?” I finally asked.

There was silence. Everyone was waiting for someone else to answer.

Miss Evangeline chose to speak up. “Lollipop Lane is a home for mommies, aunties, sisters, and little ones who never quite fit. Square pegs who don’t want the world to hammer them into round holes to  make them straight, quiet and obedient.” She shuddered.

“It’s a rebel sandbox for ethical eroticism,” Miss Rowan added. “No age limits.”

“It’s a puppy pound,” one of the mirror twins murmured.

Her sister piped up, “A perverted puppy pound,” and burst into giggles.

“Goodness, you two,” Miss Evangeline patted the twins on their heads. “I think you need to work off some of that energy and let the big girls talk a bit.”

That got their attention. “You mean…?” one of them asked.

“That’s right, darlings,” Miss Evangeline replied with a nod, and the two girls immediately ducked beneath the tablecloth.

♡ ⚢ ♡ ⚢ ♡

“Petal,” Miss Evangeline called lightly, not even looking down. “Use your tongue, not your teeth, lovely thing.”

“Arf-arf!” came a muffled reply from under the table.

Miss Rowan glanced at me, absently swirling her wine. “Lily, have you felt Petal’s tongue yet?”

“Ooh! I don’t think she’s felt her,” Bunny said with a squeal, bouncing a little as something happened under the table. “But I think she will… s-she…ohmigosh, t-the puppies are, like, super-duper into it tonight…!” With a long, drawn-out moan, Bunny slumped down in her chair.

One of the girls crawled by my feet and I caught a glimpse. Ballerina outfits now torn away, she was wearing nothing but a collar and a wagging puppy tail plug that curled in the air like a comma. She paused, wagged her bottom at me, then disappeared towards Miss Rowan’s chair.

“Oh my God,” I breathed.

“Oh no, sweet thing,” Miss Ashcroft corrected gently. “Tonight, it’s just girls.”

“C’mere, Petal.” Trouble snapped her fingers under the table, then scooched forward to the edge of her chair. “I’ve got somethin’ for ya… open… open, good puppy…”

Trouble’s eyes went dreamy as she relaxed fully and smiled while looking straight at me. The sound of puppy-girl panting was replaced by sudden quiet gulps.

She wasn’t…she couldn’t…

Miss Ashcroft leaned in close to me, her voice utterly unbothered, like she was discussing table manners instead of tinkle play. “At this table, darling, release is a lovely accent, not a disruption. If you feel the need, you simply let it happen—there will be no call for ladylike excuses. Your seat is lined, the floor is prepared, and as you’ll see, Cherie and Petal are quite eager to prove their usefulness. Just spread your thighs a touch and keep your posture ladylike, then let the warmth come.”

My pussy hummed at the thought, my mind whispering perverted promises as I locked eyes with Trouble, who was quite literally pissing herself like it was the most natural thing in the world. The puppy girl beneath her was humming with pleasure, eagerly lapping at Trouble’s stream, and I couldn’t decide if I was going to cry, come, or crawl under the table myself I throbbed with the realization that I wanted to be next, that I wanted someone’s piss on me and Miss Ashcroft’s approval along with it.

Miss Ashcroft turned her eyes to me. “You’re very quiet, little one.”

“Can I…?” I tried to sit perfectly still, despite the lewd chaos taking place beneath my chair. “I’m… I’m loving this. I just love this, Miss Ashcroft. Can I please take off my panties?”

“Of course, Lily. In fact, we’d love to watch.”

In silent support of my request, Miss Rowan pulled her own tank top off and cast it aside, letting her breasts free. They really were a fantastic pair. She lifted a chilled glass of wine to me in a confident, sly toast, then pressed the cold glass to the curve of one breast. The nipple puckered gorgeously.

My heart pounded as I rose to my feet, then slowly slid my undies down, my thighs parted just enough to let the cool air kiss where Bunny’s tongue had left me throbbing. I stepped out of the sodden panties and straightened, holding them in trembling fingers, my sex on full display.

I stood motionless, letting everyone look, unsure what else to do until Miss Evangeline extended her gloved hand with a smile that could’ve melted diamonds.

“May I, love?” she purred, and I placed the damp cotton into her waiting palm. She raised them to her face and closed her eyes, inhaling my scent like it was a springtime bouquet. “Mmm,” she murmured, “absolutely pure cream.”

I retook my seat just in time to feel something warm and wet touch me from below: a warm, wet puppy girl tongue trailing through my bare slit. I whimpered softly, a spasm of pleasure hips spasming while

Bunny leaned into my side, her voice hushed but pulsing with excitement. “If you stay the night, you can tinkle on the twins whenever you like.”

“I—what?” It was difficult to focus, what with the puppy girl’s tongue so insistent and… and needy… holy fuck, it felt so indescribably wonderful…

“On sleepover nights, they’re mine!” Bunny bounced in place, gesturing toward the puppy twins. “They love cuddle piles, and smelling private parts, and being tinkled on, and if you wanna wear a plug and a doggy-cock and play Big Bad Wolf, it’s a really fun game, Lily!” Her eyes rolled back in ecstasy as her puppy girl did something special down below. “Oh… ohmigawd!”

Placing both hands behind her head, Trouble smugly leaned back smugly in her dining chair. “New girl’s gonna be drownin’ in cunt by tomorrow morning…”

“Oh, I don’t think she minds,” Miss Ashcroft murmured. She idly grazed Miss Rowan’s breast with the tips of her manicured, crimson-painted nails, making both nipples equally stiff.

Trouble just grinned wider and leaned forward, locking eyes with me. “I dare you to finger your clit, you sixth-grader slut,” she said. “Right now, here at the table.”

Everyone carried on like there was nothing unusual about the teen’s demand, but I could feel it now, pulsing beneath the surface like a second heartbeat. Now, I truly understood what was happening. Lollipop Lane didn’t just permit perversion, it nurtured it like one would a newly planted garden.

And my petals were blooming. I was turned on, more than I’d ever been in my life. There was no shame left in me, only a giddy, trembling sort of awe.

Beneath the tablecloth, Miss Ashcroft’s hand settled gently on my thigh. “Only if you want to, little one,” she whispered. “But if you do… know that you will be applauded for it.”

I swallowed hard. It was what I wanted, that much was true. But it wasn’t all…

She gave me a light squeeze. “Show them what a broken girl looks like, before she breaks again.”

My fingers moved. Under the table, hidden by linen and flickering candlelight, I slipped my right hand just above the sticky-hot tongue of the unidentified puppy girl to press the tip of a finger to my clitoris.

And then, with my left hand, I did the same to Miss Ashcroft, reaching over to stroke her shaved cunt.

She didn’t flinch, but her lips parted with a subtle catch in her throat that only someone close as I was could catch. Her emerald eyes penetrated mine, heavy-lidded and smoldering with heat. She wore… it wasn’t quite a smile, more like the revealing of a secret. Her hips shifted ever so slightly beneath the tablecloth, angling somewhat to give my fingers easier access. One perfectly manicured hand came up to cup my chin, perfectly languid and composed. But down below, I could feel the flex of her thighs against my wrist as she somehow restrained herself from thrusting forward.

Considering how subtle Miss Ashcroft was in taking her pleasure, I’m not sure how Trouble knew what we were up to, but she very much did. Her grin sharpened. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

“Take your time, Lily,” Miss Ashcroft murmured, her lips grazing my cheek. “Live in this moment. Taste your own wants. Learn how sweet it is to completely let yourself go.”

I suddenly felt the need to let everyone know what I was up to, so I ceased rubbing myself for a moment and brought a finger to my mouth to suck in front of the others, who were watching with great interest. Then I tucked my hand back between my legs and began to masturbate again, while sliding a second finger into Miss Ashcroft’s juicy cunt.

I was dripping wet, my pussy and star tingling and throbbing as if I was sitting on a live wire. Every heady thought in my skull was laced with wine, sex, beautiful women and their approval of my lewd behavior.

I didn’t want to be correct anymore. I didn’t want to pretend to be normal, or a Young Adult, or decent. I wanted to be a little girl, surrounded by women who were all probably on a list of lesbian predators.

Bunny nuzzled into my side, nipping playfully at my shoulder. “You’re so brave, sis,” she whispered. “You’re gonna be everyone’s favorite, just wait and see.”

Across the table, topless Miss Rowan raised her glass to Miss Evangeline who, from the look of it, was getting licked downstairs by her other little puppy. “To the blossoming of new flowers,” she said.

“To darling Lily,” added Miss Evangeline.

They toasted, intertwined arms, and sipped.

I leaned forward and kissed Miss Ashcroft.

Her tongue greeted mine like she’d been waiting for this her entire life.

As our kiss deepened, something in me snapped; a leash finally broken. I was trembling from head to foot, feverishly circling my clit with one finger while the puppy girl beneath the table lapped at my open cunt, but it was this woman’s tongue that sent me spiraling – slowly tasting, licking every part of me with the control of someone who knew exactly when I’d break. My fingers a blur, I came with a strangled cry as Miss Ashcroft suckled my bottom lip, bucking against the puppy’s tongue, heat flooding through me as if my climax was too enormous for one body to contain.

All through my orgasm, Miss Ashcroft continued to kiss me, calm and all-consuming, feeding on my gasps and coos of delight.

And when it was over, her fingers stroked my cheek as if I’d just done something so, so adorable.

“My lovely little sweetling,” she sighed, pleased. “Ah, yes. I think I’d like another…”

On to Chapter Five!

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

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

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

 

by kinkys_sis

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then her ankle gave way.

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Um, okay,” she replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“See you then!” she replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

With some apprehension, I nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re doing fine,” she murmured.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

On to Part Two!

by Suzy Freeman

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

***

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

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

P: Are you gonna get naked now, too?

Q: Do you want me to?

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

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

E: Can we undress you, Miss Suzanne?

Q: Of course.

***

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

Q: Oh, my. Were you surprised?

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

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

E: (giggling) Right!

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

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

E: Is this about our first time, Pipes?

P: Uh-huh.

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

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

Q: Do you remember if you had an orgasm?

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

Q: How did that happen?

P: Oh, Mommy was licking me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

P: No.

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

P: And women. (Giggles)

E: Yeah, and women.

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I sure am!” Piper exclaimed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh…no. You didn’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And you’re, um…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, sweetie. Now,” Cassie answered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She smiled at me. “I loved it too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

On to Chapter Five!

The Story Thus Far

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

by Rachael Yukey

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure!” Naomi responded with an eager nod.

Halee grinned. “You two have fun.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi yourself. You working out or something?”

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

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

“Why would I mind?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure was,” a breathless Chelsey panted.

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

“It’s an old house,” said Halee.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good. Where’d you go instead?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah!”

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

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

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

“For sure! Can I put it on?”

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

***

“Earth to Antoinette.”

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

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

“Never heard of ‘em.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No. What?”

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

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

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

“So maybe it’s time to reconnect.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t follow.”

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That so?”

“Bridgett—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How would you go about that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What, for chrissakes?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Crystal.” Nettie’s tone was sour.

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

“Yeah—but you’re not gonna like it.”

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

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

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

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

“So no.”

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

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

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

On to Chapter Thirteen!

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

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

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

***

By hornykate

My dear darling daughter,

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now I want to write about my love for you.

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

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

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

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

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

Then you turned seven.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your brow furrowed slightly. “Different…?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, sweetheart?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you came.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Love, Mummy

xxxooo

The End

by Emma

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

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

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

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

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

She was already doing it.

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

And she smelled so, so unmistakably horny.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Reader, I loved her.

♡ ⚢ ♡ ⚢ ♡

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

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

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

Bunny moaned into it, rising to her tiptoes.

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

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

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

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

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

“The what?”

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

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

The place was insane.

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

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

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

“I… I don’t usually…”

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

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

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

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

Almost immediately, the door creaked open.

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

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

“I reaaally have to go tinkle.”

“Oh…well…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My jaw dropped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then back at the sex toys floating in their tray.

Then up. Because Miss Ashcroft hadn’t left.

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

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

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

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

I couldn’t look away.

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

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

God.

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

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

I swallowed. “Yes, Miss Ashcroft.”

“Did it excite you?”

“…lots…”

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

My heart pounded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I couldn’t speak.

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

I was nearly crying.

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

The toy slipped inside my bottom even further.

And I blossomed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And I did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I studied my reflection.

Definitely not like a young adult.

Not a child, either.

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

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

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

In fact, I giggled.

♡ ⚢ ♡ ⚢ ♡

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

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

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

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

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

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

My heart stopped. I nodded, just a little.

Then she kissed me.

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

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

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

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

“You’re a yummy kisser!” I fired back.

“I knew you’d be lots of fun!”

“I didn’t know I’d be—”

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

I was insane with horny-happiness.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

On to Chapter Four!