Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

One of the best scores we made at Juicy Secrets over the last year is access to the beautiful stories of Kinkychic (along with the work of her equally talented sister Kinkys_sis). Here’s a brand new Kinkychic story, one we got first crack at. Needless to say, we’re thrilled no end to present it to you now. Do enjoy.  — JetBoy

 

By Kinkychic

Prologue

Chantelle looked across the city from her vantage point high above the street. She was leaning on the balcony of El Palacio, where she liked to enjoy her morning coffee, reflecting on her life and her future. Up here, there were few of the smells that pervaded the neighbourhood below, and at any rate, the air around her home was nowhere near as foul as it was nearer the suburbs.

New Orleans was a dirty, smelly, muddy, and often fever-ridden place. Yet it seemed that everyone wanted to live there. Chantelle, who put it about that she was French, although no one really knew for sure, was no exception. She ran a successful business—she was the “madame” of a bordello. By most people’s standards, she was quite rich. She enjoyed a good life and had no inclination to leave.

Today, however, she was thinking more about how the city she loved was changing and the constant flow of rumours of what the British, the Spanish, the French – and now the Americans – might do next. Times were uncertain, but she knew she’d been lucky so far; nothing seemed to impede the smooth operation of the Palacio.

France was at war with Britain. The Spanish were on the verge of joining the French. The northern American states, recently independent, were eager for more territory to add to the Union, especially in the South. The American army wanted to use force, but President Washington said he was weary of conflict and wanted only a peaceful settlement.

The city and its surroundings attracted four types of Americans. First came the stream of settlers in the more northerly areas, who had been sold land – illegally, some would argue – only to find Indians in residence when they arrived.

Then there were those working toward some political agenda, aiming to rid the place of the Spanish and bring the region into the American fold. Others were there to make money by whatever means possible – pirates, privateers, gamblers and fraudsters. A few were hard-bitten riverboat men working the delta. Bill Tucker was one such man. A riverboat captain, he had worked up and down the Mississippi most of his life. Some said he had been a pirate and a thief, but never to his face. That would have been very foolish.

The Spanish maintained a large fort overlooking the harbour. It was well designed and boasted huge guns to protect their interests, and the garrison of soldiers and sailors from the king’s small naval force was the main source of income for most of the smaller traders in the city.

Whorehouses outnumbered any other type of business. They ranged from dirty flea pits in the suburbs to posh establishments in the few smarter areas. These latter catered to officers, gentlemen, and a very few rich people who were neither.

These better-class bordellos were usually owned by a senior military man or politico who was seldom actually seen on the premises, and who would engage a madame to front his business. Chantelle prided herself that the Palacio was quite probably both the best and most popular among the city’s more discerning residents.

By far the busiest professionals were the prostitutes, whether the beautiful whores found in the best places, or the scrawny, toothless hags who worked the filthy streets.

This was New Orleans in the late eighteenth century, a lowly deckhand’s paradise or an officer’s nightmare. It was not a place to be penniless – especially a penniless woman.

 

Chapter One

My father was killed when I was seven. His platoon had been ambushed by persons unknown somewhere up the Mississippi. He had been a Corporal in the Spanish army escorting a small naval convoy that was transporting gold coin into the interior for the Governor. This gold was a payment to some American General. I think his name was Wilkinson. Some years later I learned that he had been a double agent, working for both the Americans and the Spanish. He never received his gold. Nor was any trace of it ever discovered.

I loved my father, the kindest man I ever knew, and I still missed him. The sound of his voice – “Frances, viene la cena está lista” – when he called me for dinner, or when he played his guitar and sang us a love song. He had never earned a great deal. Army pay was steady, but not enough for him to save, and he had always been too honest to involve himself in any of the shady rackets that were rife in the dockyard.

My mother did receive a token bereavement payment from the army, but it lasted us only so long. The sisters of the convent helped us for a while, and then they, too, ran out of money. There was a terrible shortage of actual coin, the Governor having lost 200,000 guineas in his ill-advised venture with Wilkinson.

My mother tried everything she could to find work, but to no avail. For a time, it seemed, either we would have to live on the streets, or Mother would be forced to accept some drunken soldier as her husband. Good men were hard to find. It was a common enough situation, and our own was becoming more desperate every day. We were but two of the thousands of penniless females scratching for a living in New Orleans.

I remember the day Mother came home with so much fresh food I could not believe it, but I, being half-starved, did not question how she had acquired it. All I cared about was filling my empty belly. I think I was eight at the time.

She was fourteen years of age when I was born, and so still quite young. She was also a quadroon. One of her grandmothers had been a slave in the British West Indies – although we never knew which of the islands exactly – and her grandfather was the enslaver. Like many women of mixed blood, she was beautiful, with European features but slightly darker-coloured skin. As an octoroon, I am even more fair-complected than she.

Mother worked in the evenings. She would not tell me where. She would say only, “It’s better you don’t know, but you needn’t worry. There’s nothing for you to be concerned about.”

Over time, I saw her fortunes increase until eventually, my curiosity got the better of me. I could not understand what situation could pay so much. I tried to ask her about it on several occasions. At first, she told me not to fret, but as I got older, I did fret. I began to worry what she might be doing.

Finally, I asked her outright. “Mother, I want to know what you do,” I said. “It worries me, not knowing. I can’t believe the money you bring home can be earned from any honest work, and it frightens me.”

She seldom grew cross with me, but now she did. “How dare you question me like this!” she said. “Just be grateful that I provide. What I do is my business, and no concern of yours.” She stopped. I think her own words had shocked her. They certainly shocked me.

I took a step back, hurt and stung and fighting back tears. “I only worry for you, Mother,” I mumbled.

She saw my distress, and reached out to me. “I know you do, Frances. I’m sorry for my harsh words. Now let’s not mention it again.”

***

I followed at a safe distance so that she never saw me. Mother carried her good shoes in her bag, as they would have been ruined in the filth she was forced to walk through to reach the better-kept streets. Several times I had to be quick to escape the grasping hands of some inebriate who clearly thought I was fair game – a young and not wholly white girl out on the streets at this time of evening.

I had always felt frightened of Indians, although I had no real cause to be. My fear stemmed only from stories I had heard. Nevertheless, I would try to avoid contact with any I encountered, and so it was now. Most stood about the docks, but some loitered in small groups that I did not much like the look of, and I steered well clear of them.

At one point, I was caught up by a more persistent soldier who took hold of my arm. He even offered me more money than I’d ever seen if I went into the alleyway with him. The smell of his breath from his rotten teeth and whatever he had been drinking invaded my senses. He cursed me for a stuck-up negra bitch as I twisted away from him. I shouted at him that he was a disgrace to the Spanish uniform he wore. Could he not see that I was a respectable girl, and not one of his whores?

He just laughed at me, pressing a hand between his legs. “I’ll teach you respectable, little miss. Your little hands would fit right nice around this.” But by then, I was running to catch up to my mother.

She had disappeared. I had no idea where she’d gone. How could she have vanished so quickly? I looked about, puzzled. I was standing outside the doors of a quite notorious, but high-toned bordello. It slowly dawned upon me that it was the only place she could have gone.

I knew little about these places, although I did know what they were for. Perhaps Mother worked as a hatcheck, or waitress, or something similar. It did not once cross my mind that she could be one of the girls who catered to the unspeakable needs of men. I did suspect, though, that anyone who worked in such a posh establishment, in whatever capacity, would be well paid.

I could not bring myself to enter, and since there was nothing else I could discern by standing in the street, I returned home – though more slowly and carefully than I had come. For I loved it here, amid the city’s few clean streets. One or two of the lanes boasted gas lights, as did the houses and businesses along them. I stopped and admired the steady blue flames. How did they work? I had no answer. And only here were the carriageways paved. One could walk without being covered in mud or dust. I skipped happily along the road, something I could never do in my own quarter.

As I approached my home, I grew more and more despondent – the stink, the grit, the dirty inhabitants. The drunks who lay about, most likely considering whom they could rob to pay for their next bottle. It was high summer, and the oppressive heat trapped and amplified the stench. The only relief was the absence of mud, as we were far enough away from the swamps, and the sun had dried the ground.

I hated this place, but at least we had a roof over our heads. Our house was clean and tidy inside, and we had plenty of food. But still, I swore that somehow, someday, I would leave it behind me.

***

Time moved on. For Mother and me, nothing changed much, although I was now taking lessons in English, Spanish, and arithmetic at the convent. I discovered I was a quick and diligent learner, and I enjoyed the time spent in my studies.

It was a Sunday afternoon when the lady called. For a moment I was tongue-tied at the sight of her. Her clothing, so clearly expensive, was quite beautiful, almost as beautiful as she was. What on earth could such a lady want here? She gave a faint smile, though my silence must have struck her as rude.

She wanted to see Mother on some matter of business, she said. Recovering my wits, I invited her inside, out of the stifling summer heat. The aroma of her perfume as she passed me was like nothing I had ever encountered. Mother often wore a pleasant scent, but this was altogether different. I could not begin to imagine how much it must have cost.

I explained that Mother was not at home and I could not be certain when she would return. The lady seemed quite put out by this, though her friendly demeanour remained unclouded. I decided she was a most good-natured lady, and not at all haughty in any way.

Then I apologised for my lack of manners and asked whether she would care for some lemonade. I almost laughed at the way she grimaced, so I quickly added, “Or perhaps some wine?”

Now she smiled again. I was instantly struck by the beauty of the smile, which seemed to light up her face. I fetched her a glass, and she took a sip, then smiled again. “Very nice. Are you not having any?”

I gave a nervous laugh. “I am permitted only a watered portion with dinner,” I told her. “I’m not allowed to drink any during the daytime.”

She was now taking a closer look at me. I felt shy under her gaze, but I held myself up straighter, trying to look more mature than my eleven years.

“Not allowed? But you must be twelve or more, certainly old enough to have a drink of wine, I should have thought.”

I did not know what to answer, and she spoke again. “I’m sorry, it is not my place to be saying that, not here.” But she continued to look me over. “You really are a very pretty girl – a younger version of your mother, and lighter, though she is certainly pretty. She’s one of my most popular girls, you know.”

She must have seen the puzzled look on my face. “Oh dear. I’ve done it again, haven’t I? I think I ought to go before I get myself in trouble with your mother.”

“Please don’t rush,” I said. “You haven’t finished your wine, and I like talking to you. You’re from the Palacio, aren’t you, and that’s where Mother works. You said she works for you, so you must be the owner then?” My forwardness shocked me, and I blushed furiously, but somehow she had that effect on me, and she did not seem to mind.

She seemed to hesitate, but then said. “Goodness no, I’m not the owner. I am the madame. So you know your mother works there?”

“Yes, well, in a way. What I mean is, I know she goes there, but I don’t know what she does. You say she’s one of your most popular girls, so I guess I know now.”

She was studying me again. “You don’t seem very shocked to find out.”

I realised with some surprise that, indeed, I was not, even though I thought perhaps I should have been. I suppose I’d grown used to seeing so much of life in New Orleans. Several of the girls at the convent said their mothers worked as whores.

She broke into my thoughts. “So tell me, how old are you?” Her eyebrows arched at my answer. “Eleven? I would never have believed you were quite that young. You’re a beautiful young lady. Here, come a little closer, will you? Let me see you.”

She put a hand to my breast, and now I was shocked. I felt I should have moved away, but for a reason I could not fathom, I stood still as she felt the modest swelling beneath my shift.

“Mm, just enough to be enticing,” she said. “Yes I like that.”

It was only recently that I had discovered how my nipples hardened when I touched them. My face grew hot, and I knew I was blushing as I saw them now, showing through my shift. So big, so solid.

A smile came to her face as she watched me. Her eyes never left mine as she pinched a nipple between her fingers. “You appear to quite like that, and neither do you seem to mind my touching you.”

I had no idea what to answer. It was certainly pleasurable, but a lady touching me? Had it been a man, I would have understood, but not a lady. Why, I wondered? Whether I was too taken aback to object, or I was sincerely enjoying it, I could not have said, but in any case, I stood and let her play.

Now she had both hands on my chest, rubbing and squeezing and watching my face for any sign of pleasure. It was not long before she saw what she was after, for I could not disguise it, and she said quietly, “Come nearer, little one,”

I inched toward her until my legs touched her knees, and still I did not object as her fondling continued. It was then that I realised that I did not want her to stop. The feelings she was causing were of a strange and overpowering kind. My mouth had gone dry. I licked my lips, and that made her smile more, but it was a different sort of smile. There was a look there I had not seen before. I also noticed that she had started to breathe more audibly. Her bosom rose, and there was plenty of it showing.

She saw me glancing down at her. “Do you want to touch mine?” she asked. “You may, you know. You needn’t be shy.”

My first thought was, “Why would I want to do that?” But I watched absently as my small hand reached for her, almost of its own volition. Tremblingly, I skimmed the top of her ample breasts. So soft, so silky. I felt a strange thrill as my fingertips moved timidly along her décolletage.

She seemed to shrug her shoulders, and then the dress was slipping down her arms. The whole of her breasts came into view, her nipples nesting in two brown circles. She gave a kind of purr as my fingers closed on them. I watched in fascination as they grew beneath my touch.

I had not noticed her hand extending toward my throat, but now she was undoing my buttons, one by one. Once more, I thought I should pull away, but I could not take my fingers from her beautiful breasts.

Still, I felt it my duty to protest in some way. “M… Madame, this is not … proper,” I managed to stammer, but she slid her hand inside my shift and took hold of one small breast. I gave an involuntary shiver as she massaged me. It felt so very wonderful. My breathing had become ragged, and I was quite sure the pounding I heard was my own heart.

She answered quietly, yet breathlessly. “Oh yes, it is entirely proper, little one.”

I also had not noticed when her knee first pressed between my legs, but I certainly did when it came up against the front of my undergarments. A sudden panic seized me. This was altogether beyond my understanding. My mind was in turmoil. It wasn’t right. I had to stop it.. “M… Madame, sh-should you be d-doing that?” I asked.

Yet the intense tingle between my legs excited me. Especially when I realised that I had pushed myself forward to meet the solid curvature of her knee. Her free hand had gone behind me and gripped my backside, pulling me to her.

I heard her chuckle. “Yes, my sweet, I do believe I should. Just let yourself relax and enjoy what you feel.” My eyes closed, I felt I might swoon. My God, the pleasure!

I felt my shift falling down my arms. Then I opened my eyes wide in shock. Her hand had left my breast, only to be replaced by her lips. She was kissing the bare flesh around the nipple. I could only watch her as she explored. Then she suddenly took the nipple into her mouth and sucked. I let out a whimper, at which she glanced up at my face. She gave me a knowing look, then a smile.

She pulled down my shift, and I lowered my arms, letting it fall to my ankles. Aware that a stranger was sitting in front of me as I stood there almost naked, I should have felt ashamed, or embarrassed. But instead, I felt only excitement. I had no idea why, but I was relishing my predicament.

Her knee dropped away but was quickly replaced by her hand, which she pressed between my legs, cupping me for a moment in front. Then her hand began to move, backwards and forwards, against my pee place.

My legs shook as I pressed myself into her touch. She continued thus for several minutes, until I felt her free hand behind me tugging at the tops of my drawers, pulling them down.

I made no attempt to stop her. All I knew was I craved more of her touch. Something was growing inside me, something I had never experienced, but that I did not wish to stop.

My drawers fell, joining my shift, and the madame sat back and looked at me. I watched her face as her eyes roved over my naked form. Her look mirrored the way I felt – wanting, needing, but in her case, the need was for me.

She reached for me again, drawing a finger along my tender slit, pressing more firmly as she ascended. I almost cried out at the sudden sensation that shot through me. I had occasionally touched that same place. I knew it was special, but never like this.

Her fingers concentrated on that one place, rubbing, caressing, and sometimes pulling, as my body grew ever more tense. I wondered at what I was feeling. This, I thought, was surely what heaven must be like.

My legs went weak, and then they trembled. I could barely keep myself from falling. I balanced myself on Madame’s shoulders and held on. And then it happened. There was a moment of sudden terror, barely the length of a breath, and then a wave of joy at the glorious feelings that swept through me. I jerked my hips furiously against her hand as my body strived for release.

I fell against her as the spasms shook me. With one hand she held me to her, while the other remained engaged between my legs.

Slowly, my breathing calmed, and I clung to her, lifting my face to hers, and her lips came toward me. Somehow, her kiss, though gentle and loving, shocked me more than the touch of her hand between my legs. My body went rigid at the feel of her lips on mine. Not only was it the first time that I’d ever been kissed, but I was being kissed by a woman. I knew, vaguely, this was wrong, and somehow unnatural, but then my lips responded to hers, pressing forward, moving in clumsy circles, until I reached out and pulled her hard to me.

I had no conception of how to kiss, and I did not think about it. It merely happened. I could feel her passion in the feverish way she devoured my mouth. I felt, more than heard, the gasp when my hand went back to her breast.

I felt her struggle under me and heard the rustle of her skirts. Drawing back, I saw that she was pulling them up to her waist. I got up from her lap and immediately, somehow, I knew what she wanted. She had given me so much pleasure, and I was witnessing her own arousal. She needed release, just as I had.

I felt awkward and shy, but I realised that I was more than a mere child to her. I saw her desperation, and a feeling of equality – even of dominance – possessed me. She so obviously wanted me to love her just as she had loved me, that any notion that it was wrong, or even strange, was now gone. I wanted to show this beautiful woman I was capable of giving her pleasure.

I knelt before her and pushed up her skirts. The beauty of her undergarments gave me pause. Her stockings were held up by some sort of contraption, the likes of which I had never seen. Her soft silk drawers were colourful and gorgeous.

She stopped moving and looked at me with a beseeching expression, waiting without uttering a sound.

I was dreadfully nervous as I moved between her legs, but still, I reached out and touched the upper part of her thighs. The skin was soft and warm beneath my fingers. She raised herself from the sofa, and I realised what she wanted me to do. With a trembling hand, I unfastened the small catches that held her stockings to the lacy band at her waist, then took hold of her most intimate garment and pulled it from under her.

It seemed a long time ago now, but I had once, upon spying my mother stepping into the bathtub, beheld her curly thatch. I expected to confront the same vision now, but there was none. Clear, soft skin was all I saw, with not a trace of hair. And where my slit was tight and small, she possessed the expansive wings of a butterfly that glistened in the light. I was frozen in place, marvelling at the display.

Even as I reached out my hand, her hips were rising to meet it. My fingers grazed her wet, slippery folds. Slowly, I eased them apart, stunned by the beauty within. Never could I have imagined how it would make me feel, how I would long to please this lady, to show her how clever I was.

Yet, I did not know what to do. I looked up at her, and she saw my dilemma. “You really are new to this, aren’t you, my little angel?” she said. “Well, don’t worry, just touch me and learn. Something tells me you will be quite heavenly.”

I was rapt with curiosity about the texture of those folds. I eased my fingers through her wetness, sliding deep within. Her insides gripped me, and she lay back, clutching her own breasts.

Her hips withdrew, and my fingers almost popped right out, but then she thrust back, and once more I was buried deep. She repeated the movement, and I realised what she was doing. I began to move my hand in counterpoint, until she no longer had to make the effort. And the look of pleasure on her face gave me every encouragement.

Then I remembered how I had felt when she had touched my special place. My other hand spread the top of her lips. At first, I could see nothing, but when I pushed aside a sort of hood, there it was – a little nob-like thing. My fingers grazed the tip, only the softest touch, but her reaction was strong and unmistakable.

She babbled in French, which I did not understand well, but the little I could follow, along with her violent jerking, told me that I had found the source of her pleasure. It flipped from side to side beneath my fingers, growing larger as I teased. To this day, if you asked me, I would have no idea what possessed me, but I felt the sudden urge to kiss her there.

No sooner had my lips touched her, than her hand came down and clutched my head, pulling me more tightly to her. The button was forced between my lips, and she trembled just as I had done. I went beyond mere kissing and sucked the pearl into my mouth.

I knew exactly when she had reached the same peak as I had. I moved my fingers more rapidly, sucked harder on the swollen pip. She began to shout, still in French, but I understood at least one word, and it meant “fuck”. She moaned as her whole body quivered.

Then she called for me to stop. “No more, my little lover. Come here and kiss me.”

Now I loved the pillowy feeling of her lips, of her arms around me, and the warmth of her sweating breasts against mine.

She eased me up. “I don’t even know your name. Tell me, angel, what do I call you?”

“Frances,” I told her.

She considered it for a moment. “That is a nice name, but I think to me you will be Francine. What do you think? Do you like that?”

I had no idea why I would want another name. I quite liked Frances, but there was something about Francine. Yes, I liked that. She could call me Francine if she wished.

She pushed me up gently. “I think that perhaps we should get decent again, don’t you?”

After she had straightened her clothing, she opened a small purse and took out a card. She passed it to me and said, “Promise you will come and see me, Francine. Perhaps sometime I will tell you more about your mother.” Then she pressed a gold guinea into my hand. “Just a little present for you, my sweet one.”

I stared at the coin. Never had I held so much money in my hand. I was wealthy. I looked at the card. It looked expensive, with “El Palacio” and, underneath, the name “Chantelle Du Maurier,” both in gold leaf.

I looked back at her and simply nodded. I had been struck dumb. I was in love with this woman, and my tongue no longer functioned.

“You may come any afternoon,” she said. “Just come to the side door and knock twice – only twice. A large man will answer. Don’t be frightened of him even though he looks quite menacing. Give him this card and he will let you in. Then he will check whether I am free. Will you do that?”

Dumbly, I nodded once again. I did not want her to leave, though I knew she must. I followed her to the door, where she turned to face me. “Would you tell your mother that I called, but say that it can wait until this evening. But you, my angel, are quite delectable. Just one quick kiss before I go.”

She stepped into the street, but turned and took hold of my hand. “Thank you for what you have given me today, Francine. I am honoured to be your first lover. Am I not? And you will come and see me, I hope?”

I only just managed a faint, “Yes, I shall.” Then I watched her walk away. A huge man awaited her in the street. He turned on his heel as she passed and followed at a respectful distance. I knew he must have been the man she had mentioned, and it was his duty to protect her.

She must be important indeed.

On to Chapter Two!

by Karin Halle

By Sunday, Grace was sufficiently recovered to walk into Port Clifton. She left early, eager to look at the listing that had been posted in the general store that showed the names, as far as could be determined, of the dead from the Lady Elgin, and of the survivors, and of the missing. Perhaps one of the names would spark her memories.

In her absence, Harriet and Susannah were alone for the first time in a week. The opportunity was precious to them.

“Have you really found love with Grace, my darling?” Harriet asked after they had eaten breakfast. Neither was dressed yet, and Harriet wore her nightdress. Susannah would have been naked, as had become her custom, but Grace had dressed in Susannah’s good clothes to go to Port Clinton, leaving the girl in the nightdress that she hadn’t worn for a week.

Susannah did not hesitate to reply, but she took care to sound mature.

“Oh, yes, mother. I am sure of it. Even now I miss her, though I know she will be back in only a few hours. Still, I am afraid that she might learn something to bring back her memory, and that thing from her past might come between us. Oh, mother, I know it is wrong to be so selfish, but I cannot help feeling that way. Is it so very wicked?’

“No, my sweet. Love – true love – is too precious to deny, no matter where it is found. That is the reason I can accept the … the passion you two have for each other. I know that feeling, child. I felt that way about your father. I still miss him, my darling.”

“I do also, Mother.”

Harriet smiled softly. “Oh, child, I mean I miss other things – his nearness, his touch, his loving.”

“You could always marry again,” Susannah offered, but her mother only turned a smile upon her.

“Ah, my sweet. I really have no wish to find another man. And besides, I could never find another to equal your dear father, and I will most assuredly not settle for a lesser one.”

She sighed and lowered her voice. “And other than to give me a little loving sometimes, I have no great need of a man. Certainly I need no man to provide for me. And I am content with my life – I have work, and I have you … who could ask for more?”

Susannah tried to choose her words with care.

“Mother, I too feel no need for a man.” She paused to take a deep breath of courage. “Grace and I have shared love with each other, and I am certain that I do not wish ever to feel the touch of a man.”

She had expected her mother to be shocked, but that was not the reaction she received.

“Such a love as that shared by you and Grace is not very common, but nor is it too rare.” After allowing Susannah time for thought, she added, “Of course, you understand that love of that kind can never provide you with children.”

“Mother, women can also give birth to ideas and skills and other things – must all women only ever create offspring?”

Harriet looked admiringly at her daughter. “And wherever did you get these notions? From Grace, I suppose.”

“It is a fact that Grace is very modern,” Susannah confessed.

“And progressive, and unconventional,” her mother said. “Attitudes such as these are most controversial, particularly in such a little place as Port Clinton.”

“There are issues in this nation that are far more controversial than simply modern ideas.”

“So says Grace, I presume.”

“Mother, I am intelligent, even if uneducated. I can learn, and Grace can teach me. Then I can teach others, especially girls. Females have so much to offer, if allowed the opportunity.” Looking intently at her mother, Susannah added, “You must surely share these views, mother. You are strong, and when dear Papa died, you sought employment and now you rely on no one. While doing that, you have also raised me. You too are smart, though uneducated – imagine what your life could be now if you had been educated when you were my age.”

Harriet laughed gently. “Had I been educated, sweet child, I might have never even met your dear papa.”

Susannah leaned close and placed a kiss on her mother’s lips. “We no longer have Papa, but at least we have each other.” She kissed Harriet again, more forcefully. “I can make you feel good, mother. Maybe not in quite the same way as Papa did, but still good …”

They kissed again, before Harriet said, “And what about Grace? Will she not become jealous?”

“Oh Mother, you don’t understand at all. Grace says that everybody needs to be pleasured by a lover.”

Unable to hide her amazement, Harriet gaped.

“She said that you too deserve to be pleasured,” Susannah went on, “with the same pleasure that she and I give to each other. And indeed, she was fearful that you might grow jealous of us.” She took hold of her mother’s hands. “Mama, the walls of this house are thin. And I could hear you and Papa when you were with each other, just as you can hear Grace and me when we are together.”

Susannah put a hand to her mother’s breast. “Grace said that there is no need for jealousy in this house, as we all have love enough to share.”

As she unfastened the buttons on the front of her mother’s nightshirt, she said. “We have love enough in this house for all of us.”

Never would Harriet have admitted it, but Susannah was right about everything. The sounds of her daughter and Grace together had indeed made her pine for her late husband, and even to feel a little jealous of the children. Until recently, she had never given serious thought to the possibility that two females might do such things with each other, but she had begun to think about it quite often of late – particularly in the night when she could hear…

And when she heard, Harriet thought not only about what they were doing, but of her own desires.

Ever since Susannah’s father had died, Harriet had felt the occasional need to pleasure herself. She had never felt any guilt about it, regarding it as nothing more than relieving a physical urge. But lately, when she entertained such feelings, they were far more than merely physical.

She yearned for the pleasure that her child and their guest were sharing, and the intimacy that accompanied it. And lately, after she had attended to her needs, she did feel shame. But now her daughter was suggesting that she too could participate in their unusual arrangement. Susannah’s comment about the issues confronting the nation was true.

Attitudes, and even society itself, were changing – and would continue to change. The issue of slavery had troubled the nation for years, and was approaching a crisis point. The coming election would be of unimaginable significance – some people even predicted that the Union would break apart.

As a woman, she had no entitlement to vote, but she fiercely expressed her opinions.

She had been fortunate in having a good man as her husband – she knew of other wives who were not so lucky. Never once had her husband beaten her, or forced himself upon her against her will, but she had seen other women who had been treated in those ways. Yet, legally, a man behaving so brutishly was well within his rights. Under the law, whether explicitly or implied, as well as in public sentiment, a woman was merely the property of a man, either her husband, her father, or even her brother.

That principle was repugnant to her, as it was to many women. She had heard that some people even considered the situation of a woman to be akin to that of the enslaved Negroes.

She had also heard of people who advocated new ideas about relationships – particularly the “free love” movement, which stressed women’s rights since most laws governing relations between the sexes discriminated against women. Under the notion of free love, men and women alike would have the right to choose their partner, regardless of gender.

Harriet made her choice. She shrugged the unbuttoned nightshirt off her shoulders and stood naked before her daughter.

Her nakedness was not unusual, but her attitude was. She reached out, taking Susannah’s hand and raising it to her bare breast. Then she pulled the girl close and kissed her with more than motherly tenderness.

They lingered only briefly before Susannah pulled away. “I have learned so many things from Grace. And I so much want to share those things with you,” she told her mother.

Peeling off her nightdress, Susannah led the way to her mother’s room. Her own bed was smaller, made to accommodate two children, whereas Harriet’s bed had been intended for use by two adults. It was both wider and stronger.

As she lay down, Harriet said in a soft voice, “You will have to guide me; you have loved a woman. I have not.”

Taking her place beside her mother, Susannah replied, “I’m sure it isn’t too different, as long as both find pleasure in it.”

Bending close, she kissed Harriet tenderly, and then placed her hand on her mother’s breast.

Harriet drew a deep breath and released it slowly. As her daughter began to tweak the nipple, Harriet’s needs grew apace. She placed her hand over Susannah’s and moved it downward over her belly. Her intent was unmistakable.

Susannah moved her hand into the matted hair on her mother’s mound. She pulled gently, untangling a few curls and making her mother gasp with delight.

Then she ran her hand along her mother’s nether lips and found that they were already wet and plump. She teased her mother’s tiny bulb, but Harriet needed more.

“Oh Lord. Please, baby, do me. Do me like Papa! Be rough with me!”

“But Mama–”

“I said, be rough!”

“Yes’m.”

Susannah thrust two fingers into her mother’s body, more abruptly than she ever had with Grace.

“God yes!” Harriet cried. “So good! Finish me, my sweet. I am already so close!”

***

When the war came, almost all of the young men of Port Clinton and the surrounding area volunteered to serve in the Union army. Many, alas, never returned. In their absence, women and younger boys stepped up to take the place of the men. Girls took on domestic chores, and so were no longer able to attend school in nearby towns as they had done previously. The town never recovered from the loss of manpower, and it began to die.

Seemingly abandoned by the other towns nearby, a demand took hold for Port Clinton to provide a school of its own, and in late 1864 it was decided that the town’s little church could be used as a schoolhouse Mondays to Fridays. The town also resolved to engage two teachers, one to provide basic lessons and the other to teach at a more advanced level.

Susannah was by that time literate and numerate, having easily mastered those subjects, and she and Grace filled the roles of teachers more than capably.

Harriet was proud of her daughter’s accomplishments, and lived long enough to see the school become a success, thanks mainly to its teachers, before she succumbed to consumption in the summer of ’65.

A few months later, Grace approached Susannah in their schoolhouse, which was by then known more for that role than as a church. They were packing things away after classes had ended for the week.

“Do you know what day it is?” she asked.

“Friday,” Susannah replied.

“And the date?”

“September the eighth. Why?”

“My birthday,” Grace said firmly.

“You’ve remembered something?” Susannah gasped.

“No, silly. It’s the anniversary of the Lady Elgin, and the day you found me on the beach. You saved me, dearest Susannah. Five years ago on this date, you gave me life as surely as if you had given birth to me. So today is my birthday, and I have brought a gift to give to you.”

With a little grin, Susannah pointed out, “If it’s your birthday, you should be receiving the present, not I. Why should I have that honor?”

“Because I can never thank you enough. I owe you so much – my very life, indeed – so I have a gift for you.”

“That is very kind of you,” Susannah said. “But I have all I want, all I could ever want. You, and our little school.”

“Oh hush!” Grace said, and then called out, “Alice!”

Responding to the summons, young Alice Finucane came into the room. She was one of the more senior pupils – not only because of her age, but also because of her academic abilities, which placed her in Grace’s “class.”

In such a small school, both teachers knew all the students, whether they were among Grace’s “advanced” learners or Susannah’s elementary group. Alice was the prettiest of the girls, as well, with red-gold curls and a pale complexion proclaiming her Irish heritage – a trait that appealed to Susannah. And the child had a crush on her, according to what Grace had said, although Susannah was wary of believing Grace when she said such things.

“Hello Alice,” Susannah said to the girl. “Why are you still here?”

“She’s your present,” Grace informed her.

Susannah scoffed. “I beg your pardon? You can’t give me Alice. Slavery has been outlawed. Or have you been sleeping these past five years?”

“I’m not giving her to you to keep, only to borrow.”

“I don’t understand, Grace. What are you talking about?”

“Alice wants to spend some time with you. Alone with you. Don’t you, Alice?”

“That’s right, Miss Susannah,” the child confirmed, her green eyes aglow.

Her mouth gaping, Susannah managed to say, “What do you mean? Are you saying … what I think you’re saying?” She looked from Alice to Grace, then back again.

“Yes, Miss Susannah. I’m in love with you! You’re beautiful and you’re kind, and you make me feel … oh, all funny inside. And funny in one particular place.”

“But we can’t!” Susannah looked to Grace for support, but found none.

“She told me once how she feels about you,” Grace said quietly. “I told her that she should tell you, not me.”

“But we can’t!” Susannah repeated. “It wouldn’t be right. If anybody found out … and she’s too young.”

“She is thirteen,” Grace noted. “It’s still common enough for girls to marry at that age. And you were not much older when we first … well.”

“I really am a woman, Miss Susannah,” Alice said. “I’ve had my bleed for almost a year now.” She stepped close and kissed the young instructor on the corner of the mouth. “I really want to … to love you, Miss Susannah. And for you to love me. Miss Grace told me I should ask you.”

“Grace …”

Susannah looked at Grace, only to see Grace smile at her.

“Alice dear,” Grace said without taking her eyes off Susannah. “What did I say, do you recall?”

“Yes Miss Grace,” the girl said. She took Susannah’s hand and held it against her small left breast. “Can you feel my heart, Miss Susannah? It’s beating for you. Perhaps you can’t feel it through my clothing.”

As she spoke, Grace began to unbutton the child’s dress in the back. Alice slipped her arms from the sleeves, letting the bodice fall to her waist. Under the dress she wore a thin singlet-vest.

“Can you feel it now, Miss? Can you feel my heart?”

Susannah put her hand to the girl’s breast again. She was feeling many things, although the girl’s heartbeat wasn’t one of them.

“I’ve locked the door, Susannah,” Grace said quietly.

By the time Susannah looked at Grace, and then at the front door, and then back to Alice, the youngster was pulling her vest up and over her head.

Susannah stared at the bare-bosomed young girl. The teats were small, but shapely, despite the pupil’s youth. And the white flesh was almost translucent, etched with faint blue veins. To Susannah, they were irresistible. She cupped one pale bulb, gently fondled it, and lightly squeezed the nipple.

The girl sighed dreamily, and Grace murmured, “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

Susannah’s hand ceased caressing the girl’s breast.

“Have you two …?” she gasped.

“No,” Grace said with a chuckle. “I told you – it’s you she wants.”

Alice nodded enthusiastically.

“Perhaps a little later, though,” Grace speculated. As she spoke, she moved behind Susannah and commenced unfastening Susannah’s shirtwaist.

“Grace!” Susannah protested, but the garment was already loose, and Alice had reached out without hesitation to pull it off. Its removal revealed an unadorned chemise, sleeveless and loose-fitting. Grace was already pulling it down off Susannah’s shoulders as Alice removed the shirtwaist entirely.

In seconds, Susannah was bare to the waist, like Alice, who was transfixed by the sight of her teacher’s naked breasts.

“Oh Miss Susannah,” the girl sighed. “You are so beautiful. I’ve dreamed about seeing your fronts, but I never imagined they would be so perfect. And I never believed my dream could ever come true.”

Before she could recover her wits sufficiently to speak, Susannah heard Grace say to Alice, “You may touch them, if you want. She loves having them touched.”

Susannah forgot not only what she was about to say, but even her intention to speak.

What Grace told Alice was true, and Susannah found that she wanted the little girl’s hands on her so much that propriety was of no concern. She almost melted when the small, warm, soft hands covered her breasts – a touch was so light that it was almost no touch at all.

“Oh sweet heaven,” Susannah sighed.

Alice leaned forward a little – she was precisely the right height for her lips and Susannah’s breasts to align. A first gentle kiss was followed by a suck, both of which thrilled Susannah to her core.

To her surprise, Susannah felt her skirt and petticoat drop away from her waist. She hadn’t even noticed that Grace had untied the ribbons that held them in place. Alice loosened her own skirt and underskirt, and they too fell to the floor.

All three watched absorbed as Susannah and Alice untied their drawers, then stood to drink in the sight of the two naked forms.

“Touch her,” Grace said. “You know you want to.”

Simultaneously, Susannah and Alice obeyed. The instruction had been directed at each of them. Susannah’s hand reached for the coppery hair on Alice’s mound, as fine as strands of cornsilk. Alice found herself unable to move, for fear of breaking the spell. Guiding her, Grace pushed Susannah back toward a bench that was usually cluttered with teaching materials. At this moment though, it was utterly vacant.

Grace! You think of everything, Susannah thought.

As Susannah sat upon the bench and drew Alice toward her, she peeked over the child’s shoulder at Grace, who had brought a chair from the main room and placed it in the doorway, where she was now seated.

“Miss Grace, will you be watching?” Alice asked nervously.

“Yes, I am,” Grace told her. “Could there be anything more wonderful than seeing two beautiful women in pleasure … women whom I love very much?”

Alice’s nerves vanished as Susannah drew her down and kissed her.

The action caused Alice’s buttocks to rise, offering Grace an unobstructed view between the child’s legs. She licked her lips at the sight of the young girl’s naked sex – tinged with a pink that blushed against paleness of her thighs and bottom, which were so wantonly displayed.

Grace’s other lips grew moist as well, and as Susannah and the little girl kissed, she stood up and took a single step that put her beside them. Reaching out, she took hold of the girl’s buttocks and spread them apart, so she could clearly see Alice’s tiny anus, as well as all of her maturing womanhood, which glistened with the evidence of how aroused she had become.

Fighting the urge to join them, or to at least fondle the secret places that were right before her, Grace sat down again. This day was for Susannah, a demonstration of the love Grace felt for her. And it was for young Alice as well, who had confided her innermost thoughts, and was now being rewarded for her trust.

But Grace could not deny herself entirely. Raising her skirt to her hips, she opened the crotch of her drawers. Even as she put a finger to her own wetness, Susannah’s fingers appeared at Alice’s sex, as if acting in tandem with hers.

Alice fell forward across Susannah, wanting nothing more than to relish being fingered by the beloved teacher.

“Do you touch yourself, Alice … here?” Susannah asked, running her finger over the youngster’s vulva.

Alice could only answer between gasps. “Yes, Miss Susannah. Only when I think of you. When I do think of you, I feel … warm tingles deep inside me, and I make wet, and I touch myself. And I dream that it is you touching me …”

“Alice, have you taken your maidenhead?”

“Oh yes, Miss, but I pretended that it was you taking it.”

“I’m here now,” Susannah murmured, and she slipped a finger into Alice’s depths.

Still gasping, Alice said, “There’s a word Miss – a naughty word, and I don’t like to say it – but it’s what I want … right now … I want you to fuck me, Miss Susannah.”

As Susannah pushed her finger further into Alice’s hole, the child raised her voice and said confidently, “Fuck me, Miss Susannah. Please fuck me!”

A long moan of wonder declared Alice’s satisfaction as Susannah drove her finger home. The moan turned into a series of pants as the finger withdrew, just a little, before plunging in again. The finger set a pattern of partial withdrawal followed by a thrust, and the pattern was matched by the rhythm of Alice’s panting.

“Oh, heavenly Father, yes! Fuck me, Miss Susannah! Fuck me hard!”

Alice was about to say “Fuck me” once again, but instead made a strangled sound and began to quake.

“That’s the way, my precious Alice. Come for me! Come for Miss Susannah!”

Instantly obeying her teacher’s instruction, Alice wailed and shuddered, and a fine mist of juice burst from nether lips.

Watching, Grace thought of the spray made by the squeezing of half an orange – the droplets flew randomly, spreading their sweetness. And when Susannah buried her face between Alice’s legs to lap up the spray of Alice’s dew, release claimed Grace as well. Her juice ran down her thighs, and she collected some on her fingers for her own delectation.

When Alice had recovered sufficiently to speak, she couldn’t contain her words.

“Oh Miss Susannah – that was … amazing. I don’t know what to say. I want to thank – may I thank you?”

As she spoke, she reached for Susannah and slid her hand between the teacher’s legs, and it almost made her swoon to discover Miss Susannah was wet for her.

She finger-fucked Susannah rapidly – Susannah would have much preferred Alice to take her time, but the child was impulsive and inexperienced, and Susannah found, unexpectedly, that she was reacting just as quickly as the girl herself had done.

She was about to come – so soon!

She groaned and submitted as one climax rolled into the next, and the next. After that she told Alice that she’d had enough. It wasn’t entirely true, but she thought it best to stop.

“Thank you, Miss Susannah. Thank you. Thank you so much! Thank you too, Miss Grace.”

She looked at Grace, who was sprawled on her chair in an obscene pose. The opening in the crotch of Grace’s drawers was wide open, enabling Alice to see everything. She looked away, though she realized how silly discretion was at such a moment. She had seen and done so much, yet suddenly she felt a twinge of modesty.

She picked up her calico dress and coyly held it up in front of her nude body, and at the same time asked, “Will we be able to do this again, Miss Susannah?”

“Yes, my pet, of course.”

“Oh, Mi … Susannah. It’s all right to call you that, is it not? Not in class though, but … is it all right?”

It was Grace who answered. “Of course we want you to call us by our Christian names, Alice. And as for doing this again – I thought perhaps tomorrow.”

“But tomorrow is Saturday,” Alice observed, puzzled. “There’s no school tomorrow.”

Although she was equally baffled, Susannah knew her lover well enough to anticipate that Grace had already formulated a plan, and asked, “What precisely do you have in mind, Grace?”

“Today was for you two, you sweet things. But tomorrow we shall take a walk in the woods, and go to that little clearing – you know the one I mean. And there all three of us shall be together.”

Alice didn’t know the place that Grace was referring to, although Susannah obviously did. The mere mention of the location was enough to bring a reaction from the girl.

“Do you mean outdoors, where anybody could see?” she gasped.

“Where only Nature can see,” Grace corrected. “You are free tomorrow, are you not? You’ll be permitted to go for a walk in the woods with your teachers?”

“A nature walk,” Susannah added.

“Oh yes!” the girl squealed. “Yes, yes, yes!”

On to Part Three!

 For a brief summary of this story’s plot, please consult the Chapter Links.

by BlueJean

The old man had not visited the Midnight Garden for a long time. Not since he was a boy. Back when the seemingly endless years lay sprawled out before him, and the arrogance of youth fooled him into believing those years couldn’t touch him. He got more than his fair share, as it turned out. But the end comes for us all, sooner or later. For humans, at least.

Raymond…

She ghosted through the trees, keeping pace with him but never fully revealing herself, pale eyes peering through the dark, her slender celadon fingers brushing against bark and leaf – a whisper in the woods. Her power waned… even in this place, where her magic was at its most potent.

“Aye, Lady?”

Why have you come here?

The old man thought about that. Had he ventured here of his own accord? Or was he drawn here in his final hours? “T’ settle an old score, s’pose,” he decided.

Through the giant ferns he marched, walking stick in hand, the moon casting its cool light upon his tired frame.

You are no match for her, the Lady told him. You must turn back.

“Don’t matter much no more, do it? Might as well go out with a bang.” Step by step, he advanced through the forest.

I did not mean to bring you sorrow, Raymond. Forgive me.

She had saved his life back then, but it had come at a cost. The dark thing in the tree had seduced him with promises of eternal love and life unending, and young Raymond had learnt the truth of it too late – The tree was not for humans. The tree was a desolate prison, a limbo between realms. So the Lady had healed him, joined his spirit back with his body. But the earth magic had forced upon him a greater lifespan, and those surplus years were a curse, not a blessing.

“Ain’t you I blame, Lady. Saved me life, ya did. It’s that other thing I’s angry with.”

She was not always this way. She is confused; brokenhearted.

“Aye. ‘Member you sayin’ that when I was a nipper, too. But ‘ow many littluns has she ‘urt, Lady? ‘Ow many o’er the years? And now she’s gone after young Millie. And I can’t ‘ave that, see? I won’t bloody stand for it.”

I’m trying to help the child, Raymond. But I’m tired… so tired…

Stubborn resolve drove him onwards, through the trees and the tall ferns, fireflies lighting his way with their bright curiosity. To the heart of the Midnight Garden, where the Great Oak dwelled.

The ancient tree stood like a vast fortress, its great canopy blotting out the moonlit sky, mighty limbs stretching out for what seemed like miles.

Have you come to reside in this tree with me, old man? something whispered, mocking him. You are too late. I smell the taint of manhood upon you. Such a sweet boy you once were, too…

The old man tapped the gigantic trunk with his walking stick. “In ‘ere? Sounds bloody awful. Who’d wanna live in a bloomin’ tree?”

The creature circled him. And yet, as your life force ebbs, here you stand. Desperate and afraid, as all men are.

“Reminds me of a suffragette I once knew. Nice enough girl – not big on humour, though.”

The thing struck out, whipping him across the face with tendrils of dark energy. You had your chance, boy! You could have lived forever!

The old man grunted and fell to his knees, surprised that things still hurt in dreams. He tried to push himself back up with his walking stick but failed. “I ‘ad me a taste ‘o forever. Didn’t like it much.” He pointed an accusing finger at the tree. “I’m ‘ere about Millie. You leave ‘er alone, you ‘ear? She already got a mother.”

It closed in on him, like a spider bearing down on some tiny insect trapped in its web. You would take her from me? Wrench us apart as those God-fearing fools once did?

It poised to strike again, then hissed, No.

A simple word, but so full of bitterness and hatred.

The old man closed his eyes, accepting his fate.

But the blow never came.

He opened his eyes, and the Old Oak was gone. He found himself in a forest clearing full of colourful wildflowers. Bird sized butterflies of black and gold supped from them, and fat blue bumblebees busied themselves harvesting silver nectar.

And in the middle of the flowers were two beds. And in those beds – two little girls tucked up fast asleep.

He pushed himself up onto his feet, groaning at the effort. “Soddin’ ‘ell…”

You are not a fighter, Raymond, the Lady told him, not unkindly.

“I fought in three wars, I’ll ‘ave you know.”

You are a defender. That is where your strength lies. I will grant you one more gift – a fleeting one – with what little power remains to me.

He could smell the forest. Like he’d never smelled it before. It was his forest. The trees and the ferns, the rivers and the streams, the earth beneath his… hooves?

He felt alive. More alive than he had ever felt. His body pulsed with strength.

And it was time to rut. Time to live. Because rutting was life. How silly, not to realise that before.

“Sleep tight, littluns,” he told the two dozing children, then forgot how to use human words.

***

I pulled the car into Sadie’s driveway and switched the engine off.

The girls were in the back playing rock-paper-scissors. I’d asked them to dress up in something nice, so Millie had picked her yellow party frock, while Freya had opted for her particular favourite: a little black dress with white flowers.

We’d left Bee at home in the kitchen with a tasty bone to gnaw. Sadie’s grumpy cat Billy Buckham, wasn’t a huge fan of inquisitive puppies and probably would have scratched her eyes out by the end of the evening. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt her to get used to being left alone every now and then.

I inspected myself in the rearview mirror and wondered who the stranger was gazing back at me. I’d dug out my old lacy black cocktail dress, feeling very smug when I found I could still actually fit into it after all this time. I decided to go to town on the makeup, too. Applying my warpaint had been a daily routine once, back when I was a career-driven young woman fresh out of law school. Now it was an indulgence; a luxury. Something for special occasions.

Special occasions like tonight.

I spoke to my daughters’ reflections in the mirror. “Girls?”

Pausing the game, Freya and Millie gave me their attention.

“Whatever happens tonight, it has to be our secret, okay?” I told them.

“What do you mean?” Freya asked.

“Well. You know how we’ve been doing rude things together lately?” I assumed they had both told each other about the naughty fun we’d been having. Sisters shared secrets. It’s what they did. I’d asked Freya not to tell her sister about our sexual escapades, but since Millie and I had been having some fun of our own, that agreement was probably null and void.

“I don’t think it’s fair that you licked Millie’s kitty but not mine,” Freya protested. “And you let her lick yours, too!”

“But you rubbed your kitty on Mummy’s kitty and I didn’t get to do that… so it is fair, actually,” Millie argued.

“No, ’cause licking is, like, one level higher than rubbing.”

“It isn’t.”

“It is.”

“It isn’t!”

“It bloody is!”

“Oi! Watch your language,” I scolded Freya. Were my two little girls really arguing about who got to do what to their Mummy’s pussy? Yes. Yes, that was actually happening right now in the backseat of my car. Awesome.

“Oops, sorry,” Freya said, smirking at me in the mirror.

“Anyway… er, what was I saying?”

“Something about keeping secrets,” Millie reminded me.

“Yes. You mustn’t say a word to anyone about things that might happen tonight.”

“Are we gonna do rude stuff?” Freya asked me.

Were we? That was the plan, right? Or was I taking it too far? Considering everything I’d already done with my daughters, drawing a line now seemed a bit silly.

“I mean, we don’t have to. But… we could. If we all wanted to. If you’re both okay with that, I mean. It’s up to you. It might be fun, though. So we could. If you like.” Stop talking. You should stop talking now.

“What if Miss Laine sees us?” Millie pointed out.

“It’s Miss Laine’s house, divvy,” Freya said, rolling her eyes. “Obviously she’s going to join in.”

“You’re a divvy,” Millie countered.

“Yeah. So. Good talk,” I said and high-fived them both.

Sadie appeared at her front porch, looking stunningly beautiful in a crimson semi-formal dress. I opened the driver’s door and gave her a smile.

“Are you coming in, then? Or are we having dinner in your car?” Sadie said, folding her arms.

“We’re coming,” I replied. Climbing out of the Beetle, we headed into the little round cottage.

We ate outside under Sadie’s gazebo, sitting on big cushions round a swanky looking Japanese table. It was a novelty for the girls, but personally, I’d always thought that chairs were a great invention. My legs were starting to go to sleep underneath me.

The food was great, though. Sadie had baked a delicious spinach and feta pie for us, and once we’d demolished that she brought out a passionfruit and clementine cheesecake for dessert. She was a much more ambitious cook than me, without a doubt, as her expansive collection of cookbooks attested to.

I opened another bottle of wine while Freya and Millie tucked into second helpings of cheesecake.

Stroking my leg under the table, Sadie smiled at me. “You look beautiful tonight.”

“Do I?”

“Yeah. Quite the hottie!”

“Well, thank you.” I glanced at the girls, then whispered in Sadie’s ear, “And what about those two? Do they look nice, too?”

Sadie regarded the girls with hungry eyes. “They look… delicious.”

“What’re you whispering about?” Freya asked us.

“Big girl stuff,” I told her, and wiped a stray bit of cheesecake from the corner of her mouth. I licked my finger clean.

“Are we gonna watch a movie?” Millie asked.

“We can, if you like,” Sadie told her. “Why don’t you both go and have a look at my DVDs and pick one out?”

Millie jumped on her sister’s back and Freya piggybacked her indoors, the two of them giggling as they went.

I pulled Sadie towards me and gave her a deep, hungry kiss, followed by a wicked look and some wicked words. “I licked Millie’s pretty little pussy yesterday, by the way,” I casually told her, then got up to follow the girls.

Freya and Millie browsed through Sadie’s DVD collection before finally settling on Kiki’s Delivery Service, a Japanese animated movie about a young witch who leaves home to explore the world. Anime wasn’t really my thing and Sadie had seen it several times, so she and I sat on the couch and quietly chatted while the girls made themselves comfortable amongst cushions on the floor.

Sadie was quietly observing Millie, who was lying on her front, legs up in the air swinging back and forth. My friend turned to me with a look of disbelief and delight. “Really?” she mouthed.

I nodded. “She had a taste of Mummy’s too,” I told her as I stroked her thigh. I brought my lips to her ear. “Have you ever had a little girl’s tongue in your pussy?”

Sadie closed her eyes momentarily and sighed. Nibbling her bottom lip, she shook her head.

“Oh, you poor thing,” I teased.

She narrowed her eyes at me, then glanced over at Millie.”That’s a very pretty frock, Millie.”

Millie rolled on to her back. “Thanks. It’s my best dress. I actually have a matching cardigan to go with it and also matching socks and knickers, but it’s too hot to wear cardigans and socks so I just have the knickers on.”

“Why don’t you show Sadie your knickers?” I suggested.

That caught Freya’s attention. She turned onto her side, propping her head up with an elbow.

Millie, not yet aware of the sexually charged atmosphere in the room, casually lifted her dress up, revealing matching yellow panties. “See? They’re the same colour,” she told us, then went to push her dress back down.

“Leave it pulled up, baby,” I said to her.

“Why?” Millie asked.

“So we can look at your pretty panties a bit longer.”

“Does that mean you have matching black panties, Freya?” Sadie said.

Freya gave us a shy smirk. She clearly knew what was going on. “No, just normal white ones,” she told us.

“You gonna show us, then?” I asked.

“I might… if you and Sadie show us yours,” my daughter boldly replied.

Sadie and I shared a look, then I was pulling my tight fitting dress up round my waist. My knickers were black and satin, a tantalising sheen of material nestled against my hungry pussy. “Your turn,” I said to my friend.

Sadie slowly tugged her crimson dress up stockinged legs, making a show of it, inching upward until her red lacy panties were revealed to all.

Freya sat up and shuffled a little closer to us, the movie now forgotten.

“Let’s say goodbye to Kiki, girls,” Sadie murmured, pointing at the TV. “I really don’t think this is something our little witch needs to see.” Millie switched the set off.

I raised an eyebrow at Freya. “It’s just you left now, sweetie.”

My oldest sat back and hiked her dress up, then spread her legs for us. I could see the contours of her pussy lips through the plain white knickers she wore.

“Well, aren’t we a bunch of naughty girls?” I said.

I could feel the sexual tension in the room. Even Millie had picked up on it. She looked from her sister to us, grinning impishly.

My hand found its way between Sadie’s legs, slowly rubbing her through the lacy material of her panties. Her pussy was hot, damp and steamy against my fingertips. “Touch me,” I told her, my voice husky with lust.

She slid two fingers across my knickers and pushed them through my cleft, all the way down to my arsehole, then up to my swollen clit, pausing there to stimulate it before making her way back down again, my cunt throbbing beneath her touch.

“Oh, my God. Look what they’re doing!” Freya gasped, a mixture of shock and delight on her face.

“Do you mind us touching each other like this, girls?” I asked my daughters.

“I definitely don’t mind,” Freya told us, her eyes sparkling.

“Are you two actual lesbanisms now?” Millie asked, which made the rest of us laugh.

“Lesbians, you muppet,” a giggling Freya fired back.

“Why don’t you both try what we’re doing?” Sadie said to the girls.

Freya grinned at her sister. “Shall we?”

Millie nodded and slipped a hand between her sister’s legs. Freya reciprocated, fondling Millie’s cameltoe through her yellow panties.

“God, this is so hot,” Sadie whispered to me.

“You like watching my little girls touch each other?” I growled at her.

“I really do,” she moaned.

“Mummy? Miss Laine?” Millie piped. “You might not know this, but touching each other’s kitties feels lots better when you take your panties off first.”

“Goodness me,” I replied, humouring her. “Is that so?”

“Yeah, it is, actually. Me and Freya did it loads of times. Shall we show them, Freya?”

Freya looked a bit self-conscious, but seeing Millie shuck off her knickers and spread her legs with nary a care in the world, seemed to embolden her big sister, who whipped hers off, too. Little hands found little pussies, and as the girls toiled away between each other’s legs, Millie grinned at us, pleased as punch for having devised such a clever idea.

I turned to my friend. “Well, that looks like fun… doesn’t it, Miss Laine?”

Sadie’s eyes were heavy with desire as she drank in the sight of my two girls fondling one another. “It certainly does. I never would’ve imagined one could do such a thing,” she said, playing along. “Shall we take ours off, too?”

“You’ll definitely like it,” Millie assured us.

We slipped our panties down and off, then found each other’s pussies again. I pushed my fingers through her silky folds, the musky notes of her arousal reaching my nose, fuelling the fire of my own burning lust.

Sadie teased my opening with the tip of her finger, then addressed the girls. “I’m going to put my finger into your mummy’s pussy now. Would you like to see that?”

“Yes, please!” Millie replied.

“You should spread your legs really wide, Mum,” Freya suggested and, obliging her, I swung my legs back until I was on full display to my two daughters. I felt so incredibly dirty doing it. And a little silly too, if I was honest.

“In goes the fin-ger,” Sadie cooed, as if she were speaking to two much younger children, and slowly pushed a digit into my dripping cunt. She smiled at the girls, and they – having abandoned their mutual fondling for the moment – sat up in rapt attention.

Sadie began slowly fucking me, her efforts producing delightfully crude liquid sounds as she pumped her fingers back and forth. “Oh, my gosh… such a wet pussy,” she told my daughters.

I pulled my dress over my head. “Come and get a closer look,” I told the giggling girls.

Freya and Millie stood up and clung to each other, clearly thrilled but reluctant to come any nearer.

I beckoned them with a smile. “Don’t be shy. Come and see what we’re doing.”

Freya pushed her sister towards us and Millie squealed in mock outrage. She tugged at Freya and they both shuffled over to the couch, laughing nervously.

“Shhh, calm down,” I told them softly. “There’s nothing to be scared of.”

“You look funny, sitting like that!” Millie told me.

Freya stood near hypnotised as Sadie finger fucked me. Colour had reached her cheeks, but she wasn’t giggling anymore.

“Does it look nice, Freya?” Sadie asked her.

My little girl simply nodded.

“I wonder if we should put another finger inside now,” Sadie suggested. “Would you like that, Mummy?”

“Ooh, yes. Fuck me with two fingers.”

“Why do you say swear words when you do sex?” Millie asked me.

“It’s okay to use naughty words on special occasions,” I explained to my seven-year-old as Sadie eased another finger inside me. “But… oh fuck, that feels nice… especially when we’re having sexy fun.”

“Look at my fingers going in and out, girls,” Sadie purred. “In… out… in… out…”

“I like the way you smell,” Freya said absent-mindedly, but I couldn’t be sure if it was me she was speaking to or my cunt.

“Take your dresses off,” I told my daughters.

Millie pulled her party dress over her head, leaving her standing there in nothing but summer sandals.

Freya pulled hers down instead, as if she was unwilling to obscure her view of us for even a second. She stepped out of the dress and kicked it away.

“You’re both so beautiful,” I told them, strumming my clit as Sadie fucked me with her fingers.

Freya rubbed her pussy as she gawped at us, and I found myself wondering if I should remind her to blink every now and then.

Millie stood pigeon-toed and made funny noises, imitating the sound of Sadie’s fingers as they pistoned in and out of my wet cunt.

That was enough to make me come.

I thrust my hips up, exploding into orgasm. “Fuck!” I cried and felt myself squirt a little. I grabbed hold of my friend’s wrist and held her fingers inside me as I convulsed and writhed, legs swung back ridiculously, as if I’d attempted an advanced yoga technique that had gone badly wrong.

“Ooh… look what your sexy mummy did all over my fingers,” Sadie cooed, and held her sticky digits up for the girls to inspect. She popped them into her mouth and sucked them clean, smiling wickedly.

“You’re dirty, Miss Laine!” Millie gleefully informed her teacher.

“Can we see your kitty now, please?” Freya asked Sadie, a hand still buried between her legs.

Sadie opened her mouth and planted her hands on her hips, pretending to be shocked at such a rude suggestion. “Well, I’m not sure it’s proper for a teacher to show her pupils her naughty bits,” she play-acted. “But I suppose I could. Just this once.”

She stood up and unzipped herself, dress seeming to cascade down her body in slow motion. She stepped out of it, revealing herself as a new, sensual creature, tattooed in sheer red stockings and lacy bra, crimson heels stark upon her feet, the straps wrapped around her ankles like fiery tendrils. Long chestnut hair spilled down her back – a hint of flame upon soft, creamy white skin. Undoing the catch of the bra with a flick of her finger, she let her firm breasts spill free, peering down at her two dumbstruck pupils like something hungry and wild.

Freya and Millie gazed at their teacher in awe and adoration, and suddenly I imagined little cartoon hearts streaming from their eyes, floating up and away. I covered my mouth to stifle a laugh, not wanting to spoil the moment.

“It’s rude to stare,” Sadie sang, waggling a finger at the girls. She turned around, showing us her firm, bare arse, then knelt on the couch with her back to us, knees spread wide, cunt glistening with dew.. Her eyes met mine, and she demanded, “Do something dirty to me.”

Moving closer, I stroked her arse, the tips of my fingers slipping into the tops of her sheer stockings, then back out and gliding up across her bum again. “Hasn’t she got a lovely bottom, girls?” I asked my mesmerised daughters. “Come closer, have a good look.”

Drawing closer, they stared as I pushed my fingers down into the crack of their teacher’s arse, across her rosebud and through her beautiful pussy lips, let them glide down to her swollen clitoris, which I gently pinched, then back up to her arsehole to repeat the process. Enticed by the thick, sweet aroma, I brought my fingers up to my nose to smell them, then sucked them clean of my friend’s juices.

“Does it taste good?” Freya asked me. But I knew what she was really asking.

I scissored two fingers into Sadie’s cunt and fucked her with them – three slow deep thrusts – before pulling them back out and offering them to my older daughter. “You tell me.”

Freya took my fingers into her mouth, savouring the taste of her teacher.

“Nice?” I asked, and she responded with a nod.

When Freya was finished, I sank my fingers back inside Sadie. She moaned as I fucked her, spreading her knees wider apart and sticking her arse up.

Smiling sweetly at my youngest daughter, I asked her, “Would you like a taste too, Pixie?”

“Ya!” she replied, her eyes sparkling.

I withdrew my fingers from Sadie’s pussy and brought them to my little girl’s mouth. “There you go.”

Millie teased my fingers with her hummingbird tongue, supping upon her teacher’s nectar.

Sadie peered lusty-eyed over her shoulder at us. “Oh, that’s so dirty, Georgia. Making your little girls taste my pussy from your fingers like that.”

I gave her a dirty smirk. “I know. I’m such a wicked mother.” I turned back to my daughters. “Did you enjoy that, girls?”

They both hummed their approval, sharing a look that seemed to say, Oh my God, did Mummy really just let us do that?!

“Would you like some more?” I asked them.

“Yes, please,” they both chimed together.

I spread Sadie’s arse cheeks apart. “Come and get it, then.”

It didn’t take long for the meaning of my words to dawn on them. Freya’s eyes went wide. I think she’d been waiting for this moment for a long time. Kneeling down on the floor, she feasted her eyes on her teacher’s cunt, then trailed her tongue between Sadie’s pussy lips, enjoying the moment for all it was worth.

I let go of Sadie’s bum and Freya took over, spreading her teacher open, taking as much delight in the looking as the tasting.

Squatting down, I wrapped both arms round Millie’s naked body. “Can you see what Freya’s doing?” I asked her softly.

Millie nodded and grinned at me. “Yeah, I can.”

“Do you think you might like to have a little lick of Miss Laine, too?”

Millie thought about that. “Well. I wouldn’t mind. But isn’t it a bad thing to do that to your teacher?”

I slid a hand down between my little girl’s legs and stroked her hairless slit. “It is kind of bucking the trend, I admit. But Sadie’s a very special teacher… and I bet she’d love to have you lick her kitty.”

“I really would, Millie. Come taste my pussy like a big girl,” Sadie groaned as Freya continued to feast between her legs.

“Do you think I should?” Millie asked me.

“Yeah, it’ll be fun,” I told her, stimulating her tiny clit. “Freya seems to be enjoying herself, doesn’t she?”

Millie regarded her sister, then, her mind made up, told me, “Okay, I will!”

I gently ushered my youngest between Sadie’s open legs. She didn’t need to kneel on the floor like Freya, being small enough to simply crane her neck down and lick her teacher’s cunt.

I let my fingers slide through the cleft of Millie’s sweet little bum, travelling downward until I was touching her slit. My other hand found its way between Freya’s legs. “Good girls,” I purred. “Eat that tasty pussy.”

As Freya and Millie went down on their teacher, I spread Sadie’s bum cheeks apart to get at her rosebud. I’d only dabbled in rimming once in my life – back at college, when sexual experimentation was all the rage. I’d enjoyed the perverse nature of it, but I wasn’t sure how Sadie would feel about having my tongue in her arse. I teased her hole with little licks, the taste earthy and delightfully kinky. She looked back at me with a surprised expression.

“Is this okay?” I asked her.

“I… I didn’t know you could be so dirty,” Sadie whimpered. “Yes, it’s… it’s… Oh, God, make me come, Georgia!”

With three tongues between her legs, it wasn’t long before we gave Sadie exactly what she wanted. Burying her face in a cushion, she gave a muffled cry as we brought her to orgasm, musky nectar oozing from her pussy.

I turned Millie’s face towards mine and kissed her on the mouth, then did the same to Freya. Tasting Sadie’s sweet juices from my daughters’ lips was a delicious perversion to be savoured.

With a naked little girl nestled in each arm, I went back and forth between them – skin against skin, mouth against mouth.

Sadie groaned, her chest rising and falling rhythmically as she caught her breath. “Oh, my word…”

“Look what you did to your teacher,” I said to the girls, sweeping their hair back. “She’s a total mess.”

“I’ve wanted to do that for ages,” Freya told us. One to tick off the bucket list, I suppose.

“Me too,” Millie chipped in.

“You’re just saying that ’cause I said it,” Freya snorted, twirling a lock of her little sister’s hair round her finger.

“I’m not, actually.”

I sat on the couch next to Sadie and snaked my fingers down her back. She raised her head and smiled at me, then we were drifting together in a tender kiss.

“How do you feel about licking a little girl’s pussy?” I asked her when we broke apart.

“It’d be a dream come true…” Sadie replied, her eyes all agleam.

“Girls?” I said. “Come sit on the couch.”

Sadie and I stood up and let the girls take our places on the sofa.

“Do you mind if Sadie and I have a little lick of your kitties?” I asked my two grinning imps.

“I don’t mind!” Freya declared enthusiastically.

“Mummy, you already licked my kitty… so you can lick Freya’s and Miss Laine can lick mine, okay?” Millie suggested.

“Okay, bossy boots!” I replied and gave her toes a quick nibble, causing her to squeal with delight. “Now spread your legs nice and wide.” They did as I asked, revealing two puffy little peaches, ripe and ready for eating.

“Oh, Millie. You’ve got such a pretty baby pussy,” Sadie told my youngest, then bent down to take her first luscious taste of my youngest. She drew her tongue up the length of Millie’s slit, pausing at the top to nuzzle on my seven-year-old’s clit before licking her way back down.

I could have watched her give pleasure to my daughter all day long, but I had my own delicious treat to tuck into. I took Freya’s entire vulva into my mouth and suckled on it greedily, then stabbed my tongue into her cunt, fucking her with it. She lifted her bum up from the couch, offering herself to me. I licked long wet trails up and down my little girl’s cleft, her pussy glistening with my saliva and her own juices.

“Fuck, you taste so good,” Sadie hissed, immersed in her own perverted endeavours. She spread Millie’s delicate pussy open with two fingers, sucking and licking at the sensitive pink flesh within.

As we dined on my daughters, a faint voice echoed in my mind – the voice that used to be louder and more insistent. This is wrong, it would say. And: Don’t do this, and: This isn’t normal. But I didn’t care much for ‘normal’ anymore. I was consumed by desire – for my best friend; for my two beautiful girls. All boundaries had been broken, all lines crossed. This love I felt transcended any notion of morals or laws. I wanted this. Needed it.  And so the protesting voice was all but drowned out – still there, though small and insignificant.

I could hear a purring noise and glanced to the right of me where Billy Buckham sat on the arm of Sadie’s couch and regarded us all with cool interest. He blinked his eyes at me. Cats only did that when they liked you, didn’t they? Do you approve of this, Billy? Do you?

“Can we… can we swap round, please?” asked a dreamy eyed Freya.

“Yes, baby. Of course we can.” I swatted Sadie lightly on the bum. “My elder daughter wants to give you a taste of her pussy,” I told her, and we switched places.

Freya gazed down at her beloved Miss Laine with a dopey grin, clearly delighted to have her teacher’s face between her legs. “Best. Summer. Holidays. Ever…” she murmured.

Sadie slipped a finger inside my daughter and nuzzled her clit, and it wasn’t long before Freya arched her back and hissed out a prolonged sigh that culminated in a shrill moan of ecstasy.

I flicked my tongue over Millie’s baby-smooth pussy while gently stimulating her arsehole with my finger. I wouldn’t have known she’d climaxed if it weren’t for the subtle taste of her cum as it caressed my taste buds. My child’s mouth hung open in a silent groan, her hands opening and closing.

Finally, her eyes fluttered open. “Nice?” I asked.

Millie, ever the soul of politeness, replied, “Yeah. Thanks very much,” which made me laugh. I planted a final couple of kisses on her inner thighs.

“I’m really thirsty,” Freya said.

“I think we all need to hydrate,” Sadie said. Rising to her feet, she padded into the kitchen.

Seating myself on the couch between the girls, I wrapped an arm around each one. “Did you both have fun tonight?”

“It was amazing!” Freya exclaimed. Millie nodded, humming her approval.

“But don’t forget what I said. You can’t ever tell anyone what we just did.”

“I won’t, I promise,” Freya assured me.

“I won’t either… but is it wrong, what we did?” Millie asked me.

“No, it isn’t wrong,” I tried to explain, stroking her hair. “Because we all love each other, and it’s what we want. But the people who make the rules say it’s wrong, that mums and daughters and teachers shouldn’t do that kind of thing. So we have to enjoy it in secret, okay?”

Millie looked worried. “Will they hang us from the big tree if they find out?”

I wasn’t sure where she had got that from. I studied her closely for a bit, concerned she might be having another one of her odd episodes. Finally, I kissed her brow. “They don’t hang people from trees anymore, sweetie, but it still wouldn’t be good if anyone found out.”

“Refreshments!” Sadie cheerfully announced as she returned from the kitchen holding a large glass pitcher filled with water. Her tits were magnified and distorted into an odd shape through the thick glass. We all laughed, and she gave us a puzzled grin. “What?”

***

When we got back home from Miss Laine’s, Millie let Bee out in the garden for a wee while I went to our room and got changed into some leggings. As I came back downstairs I could hear Mum talking to someone on her phone.

“No, that’s fine, Mrs. Henshaw. It’s not that late. Is something wrong?” Mum was saying. There was a long pause. “Oh. Oh no… When? I see. Yes. Yes. I… I don’t know what to say. I just can’t believe it. We thought he’d go on forever, didn’t we? Mmm-hmm. Yes, of course. It must have been a shock for you.”

Mum sat down on the couch. “No. No, you don’t need to do that on your own. Sadie and I will help in any way we can. Yes. Yes, it is. Thank you for letting me know. Yes. Take care, Mrs. Henshaw. Bye now. Bye.”

“What happened?” I asked as Mum put her phone down on the coffee table.

With a heavy sigh, Mum rubbed her eyes. “Girls. Come and sit down a moment. There’s something I need to tell you.”

Me and Millie joined Mum on the couch. I could tell something was wrong.

“That was Mrs. Henshaw, Mr. Dalliard’s house cleaner,” Mum told us.

“Is Mr. Dalliard alright?” Millie asked.

Mum put her arm round my sister. “Mr. Dalliard passed away in his sleep last night.”

“He… he died?” I said.

Mum nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

“No…” Millie said in a soft voice.

“I know it’s sad. But Mrs. Henshaw said he looked very peaceful when she found him.”

“No!” Millie shouted and brushed Mum’s arm off.

Mum kissed my sister’s cheek and tried to hug her again. “Millie. Millie, he was very old. It was his time to go. He—”

“No! No! No!” shrieked my sister and knocked the lamp off the table with a violent swing of her arm. “All my friends keep dying!”

I had never seen my sister like this… the hairs on my arms stood on end. I got up and moved towards the doorway while Mum tried to calm Millie down. Bee slunk away into the kitchen, tail between her legs.

“Millie, stop. Stop!” Mum was saying as she clutched my sister tightly. Millie thrashed about, trying to free herself. “It’s okay to be sad, baby. It is. But you mustn’t be angry.”

Millie suddenly grabbed Mum round the throat, her eyes wild and terrifying. “Your god will not help you against a mother scorned!” she snarled.

I didn’t know what to do. That wasn’t my sister. It looked like Millie, but everything else about her was just… wrong.

Then Mum did something that shocked me. Something I’d never seen her do before. She smacked Millie hard on the bottom.

She had never hit us before. Not ever.

“Enough! Do you hear me, Millie? Enough!” Mum shouted.

Millie screamed and then burst into tears. Mum picked her up and carried her back to the couch, holding her and stroking her hair.

“It’s okay, Pixie. It’s okay to cry,” Mum said in a shaky voice. “Let it all out. Mummy’s here.”

My heart was beating so fast. The shock of Mr. Dalliard dying, my sister’s violent outburst, and seeing Mum smack Millie had left me badly shaken. I ran up the stairs to our bedroom and closed the door behind me, breathing hard.

I didn’t like what was happening here at all – Millie acting all weird and trying to hurt Mum like that. I just knew this dead Isabel woman had to be involved somehow. Miss Laine was going to have to do something about her ancestor, and fast.

I wish we’d never set eyes on that bloody oak tree.

I put my face in my hands and tears trickled down my cheeks. “Mr. Dalliard… why did you have to go and die? We need you…”

***

Mr. Dalliard’s funeral was a few days later.

Quite a few people from the village were there: Mr and Mrs. Jeffries from the post office, some of the local farmers and their families, Mr. Dalliard’s house cleaner, Mrs. Henshaw. Sadie came, too.

But there was nobody there I didn’t know. Mrs. Henshaw told us that Mr. Dalliard didn’t have any relatives who were still alive. That made me sad.

After the vicar had said his bit, most of the people left to go home. Sadie stayed behind with Mum, Millie and me to say one last goodbye to Mr. Dalliard.

Mum squatted down and put her arms around Millie, who was standing before the headstone. “Look, Millie. Can you see what it says?”

Millie did her best to read out the inscription. “At Rest. Ray… Raymond Dalliard. One… thousand eight hundred and—”

“No, that’s a date. How do we say that number if it’s a date?” Mum said.

“Oh. Eighteen Ninety-Three to Twenty Twenty-One.”

“So. That’s the date he was born, then the date when he passed away. Can you figure out how old he was from that?”

Millie thought hard about that for a moment. Finally she said, “More than a hundred?”

Mum smiled. “One hundred and twenty-seven years old. That’s how old Mr. Dalliard was.”

“Woooow!” Millie whispered, knowing it was rude to shout at funerals. “That’s really old!”

Mum pointed to the final bit of the inscription. “And what does that last part say?”

Millie studied the headstone and then turned to Mum, a little smile on her face. “It says: I Told You So.”

So it was true. Mr. Dalliard really was the oldest person in the world. At least, I couldn’t imagine anyone being older than that. He might have been having one last joke with us, but I decided to believe it was true. And it wouldn’t have been the strangest thing I’d discovered lately.

Miss Laine put a hand on my shoulder. “Are you okay, Freya?”

I spoke quietly so Mum and Millie couldn’t hear me. “Whatever you’re going to do about Isabel, do it now, please.”

“Did something happen?” Miss Laine asked in a hushed voice.

“Millie attacked Mum. I’m getting really scared. You have to help us.”

“Sending a spirit from an ancient oak is no easy task, Freya. There’s great power in old trees. I’m almost prepared. I just need—”

“I don’t care about any of that! Something bad’s gonna happen soon. Just help us, okay?”

Miss Laine knelt down and took my face in her hands. “I won’t let anything happen to Millie. I promise you.”

A crow cackled at us from up in a nearby tree. I picked a stone up and threw it at the creepy bird, missing it by a mile. “Piss off!” I shouted at it.

“Language!” Mum said in her strict voice.

***

I stood by the French doors and looked out across the fields as the last light of the day faded from the sky. The crops had been harvested and the soil was barren, ready for next year’s seeds. The nights were drawing in. Autumn would be here soon.

And our old friend was gone. The usual regrets: how we took him for granted, how we should have noticed him struggling during those last few days, that we should have spent more time with him, gotten to know him better. All the questions we wanted to ask, but didn’t.

You tell yourself the end will never come. Your heart reels against it. Until finally, the end does come, and your heart can no longer deny the truth. He was old; it was his time. I knew that. But still, it does nothing to ease the pain of losing someone. I knew that pain too. Intimately.

Something felt wrong.

I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Too quiet; too still – nerves on edge. The shock of losing Mr. Dalliard, of Millie’s violent outburst and my reaction to it… these things had taken their toll. But somehow there was more to it than that.

Dark ominous clouds amassed on the horizon, roiling and churning. The first rumbles of thunder sounded somewhere in the distance. I shut the doors up and pulled the curtains across.

A storm was coming.

A big one, by the look of it…

On to Chapter Ten! The Beekeeper’s Daughters, Chapter 10

 

A brief recap: Single mother and secret lesbian Amanda receives some wonderful news from Caroline, the dance instructor for her eleven-year-old daughter Katie. She informs Amanda that Katie is being considered as a fairy for Latchmore House, a magical kingdom of sorts for young girls.  Upon arriving home, Amanda reminisces over her own first visit to Latchmore, where she engaged in some very heavy flirtation with a pretty fairy named Emily. That night, young Amanda masturbated while thinking of Emily — only to be caught in the act by her Aunt Eileen, who offers to teach her niece more about lovely things girls can do in bed together.

This new chapter takes us back to the present.

 

by C. Cat

It was the day after Amanda got the good news about the possibility of her little girl Katie becoming one of the Latchmore Fairies. She’d just arrived home from work when the ringtone sounded on her cell phone, and when the name Caroline Scott appeared on the caller ID, she felt a rush of giddy anticipation.

“Caroline!” she answered, trying to get the butterflies in her tummy under control as she took a nearby chair. “So lovely to hear from you. I was just thinking about the chat we had yesterday.”

“Ah, so was I. Listen, I mentioned getting coffee with you sometime… now, I’m calling to see if we could make it a dinner date instead — say Lucia’s, this Friday?”

A dinner date? Yes, yes, yes! Amanda gazed heavenward, giving silent thanks. She suspected Caroline was interested in more than food, so this promised to be an exciting new experience. Her few lesbian encounters had all been spur-of-the-moment hookups — she’d never actually been on a date with a woman before.

“Dinner sounds wonderful. And actually, I’ve always wanted to try Lucia’s.” She felt giddy as a schoolgirl being asked to the prom.

“Oh, you’ll love it. The food is to die for… and it’s got a very romantic atmosphere. How about I pick you up at five o’clock?”

“Sounds perfect. I can’t wait.”

Amanda was beaming as they said their goodbyes, the itch of desire already building inside her. She hadn’t even noticed that, at some point during the call, Katie had entered the room and picked up on the gist of her conversation.

“You have a date?” the eleven-year-old said with a delighted grin, clearly hungry for the details. Mum hadn’t ever dated, not for as long as Katie could remember.

“Yes, I do. Is that okay?”

“Are you kidding? Yes, of course! That’s so cool! Um, is he anyone I know?”

“I’ll tell you all about it,” Amanda said, “but it might take a while. Why don’t I call out for pizza, then we can change out of these clothes and have the rest of the night to chat?”

“Yay – pizza!” Katie cheered.

After dinner, mother and daughter were in their pyjamas and seated together on the couch. Amanda wore a red satin pair that felt very soft against her skin and a matching robe. Katie was wearing her favourite pink flannel pyjamas that were beginning to thin with wear, but she refused to throw them away.

“Is this talk going to be about sex?” Katie said with a precocious smile. “’Cause Meghan told me she just had that talk with her mum.”

“I think this might be a bit different from what you expect… but yes, part of it is going to be about sex. If you’re uncomfortable, or if you have questions you need to ask, let me know, okay?”

“Sure, Mummy.” Katie said, sitting up straight with her legs folded. “Anything you want to talk about, I’m ready.”

Earlier that day, Amanda had looked online for advice on how best to come out to your children. While it did encourage her to read that most children were accepting when it came to having gay parents, nothing else she found there was especially helpful. Finally, she decided to simply tell Katie the truth and hope for the best.

Taking a deep breath, she began. “You asked if you knew the person I’m going out with, Katie. Well, you do, and actually, it’s a ‘she’. I have a date with your dance instructor, Caroline.”

That caught Katie by surprise, as Amanda knew it would. The girl sat quietly, processing what she’d been told. Amanda waited for the girl’s reaction. She doesn’t seem upset or disgusted — that’s a good sign.

Finally, Katie looked up at her mother. “It’s like a real date? Like with, y’know, kissing and – and stuff?”

Amanda slowly nodded. “Yes, a real date. We haven’t kissed yet, but I want to.”

“That means you, er… you like girls?”

“That’s one of the things I wanted to talk about, dearest. It’s true, I only like girls… well, women. I don’t know if there is a better way to say it, but I’m a lesbian.”

Katie frowned. “But… you and Daddy… Did you change your mind and decide you like girls more?”

“No, I always liked girls. I guess I was just afraid of what people would think so I tried to fit in and hide my feelings. I suppose it sounds dumb now, but I thought if I pretended long enough, I might be able to prefer men. That never happened, of course. I did care for your father, and I’m so, so thankful we had you… but my relationship with him was never really what you’d call romantic.”

Katie understood that. Even though she was very young when her parents divorced, she’d always had a sense that their marriage was never a very happy one. “Does this mean you aren’t afraid now?”

Amanda gave her daughter a wistful smile. “Oh, I’m still afraid… Mostly I was scared you’d be upset, but you’re growing up and deserve to know the truth. I don’t want to keep secrets from you anymore.”

Drawing closer, Katie gave her mother a very tight hug. “I’m not upset, Mummy. I love you, and I want you to be happy.”

“I love you too, baby girl.”

Katie did have other questions, though; she was just uncertain how to put them into words. Finally, she looked up at her mother and hesitantly spoke. “So, um, you want to have girl sex with Ms. Scott, right?”

Amanda took a deep breath. She wasn’t used to discussing such things like this and was a little surprised that her daughter wanted to know such things. Still, she was determined to be honest, come what may. “Oh  Caroline and I would need to decide together what we did with one another… but yes, having sex is certainly something I would want in a relationship with Caroline.”

“That’s what I don’t understand. See, Becca from my class has two mommies. I saw them kiss once, but Becca says they sleep together and even do sex things. I guess I’ve been wondering about that. I mean, like… I kinda know how a boy puts his thing in a girl to make babies — they showed us a video about that in school — but how do you do girl sex?”

Folding her arms, Amanda pondered her daughter’s question for a moment before she answered. “The thing to keep in mind is that sex isn’t just for making babies — at least it ought not to be. It’s more about sharing yourself with a lover, giving her something special that brings you closer together.

“But to answer your question, there’s quite a lot two girls can do when they make love – kissing, touching and… well, some other really special things.”

“Okay, I think I understand,” Katie said before drifting off in thought again. She felt like asking more about those ‘special things’, but sensed that her mum might not want to answer.

“I guess I do have another question,” she said a moment later. “You say you always liked girls, but how did you know you really liked them?”

Rubbing her chin thoughtfully, Amanda finally shrugged. “I don’t know if there is one way to be sure, to be honest. I know that beautiful women make me all tingly inside, and I’ve never felt that way with a man. Back when I was your age, every time I ever fell in love, it was always with a girl.” She gave a shaky laugh. “I had an awful lot of helpless crushes in those days.”

Katie was staring down at her hands as if avoiding her mother’s gaze. “Er… can I ask one more thing?”

“You don’t need permission to ask me questions, baby girl. Fire away.”

“Is it okay if… if I’m a lesbian? ‘Cause I kinda feel the same way. Um, about girls.”

This possibility had never occurred to Amanda, and it caught her by surprise. Guess I’m not the only one who’s been keeping a secret.

Taking the girl’s hands, she said, “Oh, dearest… it’s perfectly okay for you to like girls. I know it can be confusing while you’re figuring things out for yourself, but know that you’ll always, always have my love and support. No matter what.”

“Oh, Mum!” Katie threw both arms around her mother, hugging her tightly as she began to tear up.

“Now, now,” Amanda murmured, gently patting her sniffling daughter’s back. “What’s this about? There’s no need to cry, love.” She nuzzled Katie’s sweet-smelling hair, rocking the girl from side to side. “So tell me… when did you first start having these feelings?”

“I’ve known for… oh, a long time. I just didn’t know how to tell you.” Raising her head, Katie gave Amanda a bashful smile. “Guess I could’ve said something a whole lot sooner, huh?”

“Well, I shouldn’t have waited as long as I did to tell you I was gay,” Amanda replied. She gave her daughter a squeeze. “Let’s make a promise – right here, right now. No more secrets between us, okay?”

Katie pondered the idea. “So… if I kissed a girl, or, y’know, did stuff with her… I could tell you about it? And you wouldn’t get mad, or tell me I wasn’t old enough?”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

“And when you do sex things with Ms. Scott… can I ask you about that? The stuff you guys do together?”

Amanda raised her hands. “Hold on, hold on. I haven’t even kissed her yet!”

“Yeah, but if you do…” Katie was sporting a wicked grin.

“Hmmm… well, I’ll have to think about that. She’s your instructor, after all, so I’m not sure that would be fair to her.” Noticing her daughter’s pout, she added, “Tell you what – if we do have sex, I’ll tell you that, but I’m not sure it would be right to get into the intimate details.”

“I guess that’s okay,” said Katie. “But no more secrets, right? Can we pinky swear on it?”

“Fair enough.” Amanda extended her little finger and linked it with Katie’s. They both tugged.

***

Later that night, after tucking Katie in, Amanda went back to her room and undressed, then ran herself a hot bath. While relaxing in the steamy water, she thought about their talk.

She’d spent many nights fantasizing about young girls, thinking about how special it would be to give a cute preteen her first lesbian experiences. Now, she couldn’t help but imagine what her daughter’s first time would be like. Would she find a friend to practice kissing with, then allow things to develop naturally from there? Or might she have a special unexpected encounter, like Amanda’s first time with her sweet fairy Emily?

Maybe Katie’s first time will be at Latchmore, too, Amanda told herself. The idea thrilled her, made her cunt throb.

She pictured a little auburn-haired fairy with deep, dark eyes, just like Emily’s had been… but this enticing creature is holding hands with her daughter, who is now a fairy herself. The two of them slip away, off to a  private place in the garden. There, the girls turn to face each other, and Emily leans in to steal a kiss.

Amanda pressed two fingers to her lips, trying to imagine what Katie would feel as that little girl’s soft mouth touches hers.

Letting her fingers slowly trace a pathway down her body, Amanda pictured the fairies gently touching each other. Soon her fingers slipped between her parted thighs while the fantasy drifted to a vision of Katie, tucked up in her bed.

Maybe this new Emily would sneak into Katie’s room at night – slipping into bed, caressing her body, then moving in to kiss her. At first it will just be touching and kissing. Katie’s body is tingling from head to toe, and she is already eager for more. But Emily won’t rush her, not for their first time. Nor will she allow Katie to touch herself, either. Emily wants to be the one to make my little girl come.

Emily’s long, lingering strokes come closer and closer to Katie’s knickers, but much as Katie arches her back and squirms, she doesn’t get that special contact she longs for. Soon she is begging Emily, Touch me there, please please touch me there.

Slowly and methodically, the teasing and seduction continues. Emily straddles the whimpering girl’s chest, until her pussy nearly t Katie’s mouth. She spreads her lips apart, fully exposing everything she has to her new lover.

Look how wet you’re making me, Emily says as she trails a finger up and down through her honey-glazed slit. Would you like me to make your pussy nice and juicy like this?

Yes! Yes, please! Katie begs.

Emily reaches back to touch Katie, but she’s not yet done with her teasing. Slipping her hand inside the eleven-year-old’s panties, she allows her fingers to graze Katie’s still-smooth slit.

Katie moans as the tip of Emily’s finger barely eases its way into her vagina. She thrusts her hips forward to take more of it inside, but Emily draws back, refusing to be rushed. Feeling the little girl grow moist, she carefully fondles Katie’s pudenda until her fingers are coated with the thick, warm nectar.

Withdrawing her hand, Emily holds it up to breathe in Katie’s scent. You smell lovely, she says, then takes a finger into her mouth to taste.

She samples the flavour, then smiles. Mmmm… Katie, I’m going to love licking your pussy, Emily says with a smile. Would you like to taste mine now?

Katie is practically bouncing on the bed, beside herself with excitement. Yes, I would!

Spreading her own cunt with her free hand, Emily reaches down with her wet fingers to stir Katie’s juices together with her own. You know, we’re going to rub our pussies together, she says, and all our juices will get mixed together, just like I’m doing now.

Emily returns the index finger to her mouth, tastes it again. It’s even yummier now! she declares, then reaches for more of Katie’s honey. Once again she presses it between her legs, sighing blissfully at how lovely that feels, then gazes into Katie’s eager eyes. Ready for your first taste of pussy?.

Yes… please let me lick you! the little girl gasps, now frantic in the face of her desperate need.

Emily pauses, pretending to consider it, then shifts her hips forward towards Katie’s waiting mouth.

Use your tongue on me, Katie, she says. Make me come in your face.

Amanda felt her orgasm rising inside as she pumped two fingers deep inside with one hand, furiously rubbing her clit with the other.

She pictured her little girl with her almost flat chest, tiny waist, and strong slender legs, going down on a Latchmore Fairy, her own little lesbian lover. It was so naughty and wrong, masturbating to thoughts of her daughter, but the fantasy was far too compelling to deny.

She wanted to be there to see it happen, to watch Katie enjoy her first lesbian fuck. More than that, she wanted to join them. She pictured her child with legs spread wide, whispering, It’s okay, Mummy… you can taste me. I want you to.

I would do it, yes! Amanda thought. I would lick Katie’s pretty pussy. Just as Aunt Eileen used to lick mine.

With that vision exploding in her mind, she was battered by a convulsive orgasm, the most intense she’d had in years. Her body jerked and shuddered, each breath hissing through clenched teeth. Finally, with a choked gasp, she went limp.

For several minutes afterward, Amanda lay trembling, thinking about what she’d done – and what it meant.

Little did she know that at the very same time, Katie was thinking about her.

***

For nearly a week after that evening Amanda and Katie went without discussing sex. Even so, the topic was never far from their minds. This became apparent when the two of them went clothes shopping in preparation for Amanda’s date with her daughter’s teacher.

It took them a while to settle on the right outfit. They agreed that it had to be something sexy, “and sort of naughty, but not too naughty,” Katie insisted. They ended up choosing a simple black dress with a spaghetti strap top, empire waist, and a skirt that came to just above her knees. The look was a bit more youthful than Amanda would normally wear, but Katie insisted it was perfect. The right shoes were harder to find — Amanda wanted something that looked nice but would also be comfortable enough if they went somewhere to dance. In the end, they found a pair of three-inch strappy heels that fit the bill.

Amanda had a notion to go without a bra or panties, but didn’t have the nerve to make such a brazen move on a first date. It didn’t matter anyway, because Katie all but dragged her into Victoria’s Secret.

The salesgirl looked to be about seventeen, and was as pretty as could be with very large breasts that were snugly contained by a tight yellow sweater. She introduced herself as Jordan.

Amanda liked her cheerful smile and the cute little bounce she had when she talked that made those firm breasts jiggle. She instantly felt tongue-tied. Not only was she worried that Jordan would notice her obvious attraction, there was also the nervousness she felt about shopping for sexy underwear with her preteen daughter — what on earth would this girl think?

Noticing her mother hesitate, Katie quickly spoke up. “My mum is going out on a first date on Friday. She hasn’t dated in a while, so we want to get her something really special.” Feeling an elfin impulse, she added, “You know – in case she gets to take her dress off.”

“Katie,” Amanda protested, “I’m sure Jordan isn’t interested in my social life.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” the salesgirl replied, a knowing twinkle in her eye. “For what it’s worth, I hope you get lucky on Friday,” Her eyes travelled up and down Amanda’s body. “Though from what I see, I’d say that your date is the lucky one.”

“She is,” said Katie, nodding her head, “but Mum’s lucky too, ‘cos they’re both really hot!”

Amanda was on the verge of scolding her daughter, but then noticed that Jordan wasn’t at all thrown by the revelation that her customer was preparing for a date with another woman. In fact, her smile only deepened.

“Well, in that case,” Jordan cooed, “I suppose we should get started.” She reached out to Katie. “Want to help me find something for your mum?”

Katie seized the outstretched hand, and they were off. From that moment on, Amanda was just along for the ride while Katie and Jordan searched the store.

As her daughter and the salesgirl pored through the lingerie, Amanda noticed that Jordan was paying quite a bit of attention to Katie… almost as if she was attracted to her. Sure enough, the older girl was stealing glances at Katie’s bare legs, which were nicely displayed in a pair of cute blue shorts. Meanwhile, it didn’t escape Amanda’s notice that her daughter seemed equally smitten by Jordan, taking a very obvious interest in the teen’s breasts.

This only heightened Amanda’s own arousal. She found herself drifting into a fantasy in which she and Katie undressed this sexy shopgirl and took her together, right there on the floor.

In the midst of their flirtation, Jordan and Katie finally picked out what they agreed was an ideal choice. “Believe me,” said Jordan, “you can not go wrong with a lacy black bra and matching panties on a first date. If this doesn’t get your lady hot, she’s only pretending to be into women!”

Once Amanda agreed with the purchase, Jordan studied Katie thoughtfully. “By the way, as long as you’re here… has Katie been fitted for a bra yet?”

That caught Amanda off guard. Christ almighty, she’s a bold one. Still, she couldn’t deny that the thought of this older girl examining a half-naked Katie excited her in a big way. Her panties were positively sodden.

“No, she never has,” Amanda slowly said, trying to make it sound casual in the face of her mounting heat. “That seems like an excellent idea to me. What do you say, Katie?”

Katie nodded eagerly. “Yeah… I’d love to!”

Quickly producing her pink measuring tape, Jordan escorted Katie to the changing room, turning to give Amanda a saucy wink just before she disappeared behind the curtain.

After a few trips in and out to select items for Katie to try on, she and Jordan had assembled a very nice collection of bralettes and other assorted pieces Amanda’s daughter. In the end, it turned out to be an expensive trip, but Katie was all smiles when they left the store.

“Oh, my goodness!” the eleven-year-old gushed as they walked through the mall, fanning herself with one hand. “That girl was so hot!”

“I thought so, too,” Amanda said. “It looked like she was flirting with you, too.”

“I know, right? Anyway, that’s what it felt like. When we were in the changing room and I took my shirt off, I told her I was a little embarrassed, ‘cause I hardly have anything at all up top — not like her. She said not to worry, that hers were about the same at my age… and even if they don’t get big, lots of people prefer smaller ones anyhow. She even touched me there — it could have been an accident, but I don’t think so.”

“That sounds less like flirting…” Amanda said, “and more like she was hitting on you.”

Katie halted in her tracks. “No way! Maybe we should go back!”

She said it like a joke, but Amanda was now certain that Katie wanted to experience lesbian sex with her new friend. “We’ll go shopping there again soon, dearest. It’ll give you a chance to get to know her better.”

In the meantime, she intended to hold on to the business card Jordan had slipped into the bag with their purchases. I wouldn’t mind having a piece of that teen dream myself.

Neither of them said very much until later, on the drive back home. Katie was deep in thought, looking as if she wanted to ask something.

Eventually, Amanda spoke. “What’s up, dearest?”

“Oh, I was just thinking about another question I had… you know, about, sex stuff?”

“I told you, love – you can always ask me anything. Even about sex. Especially about sex!”

Katie giggled. “Well, okay. Um, I wanted to know more about touching yourself. Down there, y’know?”

“It’s called masturbation. It’s healthy and normal, and there’s nothing bad about it.”

“Really? That’s what I wanted to ask about. See, Leah’s mum caught her doing that, and she told her it was dirty and wrong — she even made Leah tell her dad what she did, and then she got grounded. But Becca said both her mums told her it was totally natural, and everybody does it.”

“I think Becca’s mothers are right, and no one should feel guilty about masturbating… but unfortunately, there are a lot of people who think like Leah’s mom. Still, it’s not just what I think that counts here — how do you feel about it?”

“Umm… well, sometimes when I see a pretty girl – y’know, like Jordan – I get this feeling down there, and it kinda makes me want to do it… touch myself. So, it’s okay if I do that… as long as it’s, um, in private?”

Amanda gave her child a big smile. “Of course it is. That’s a special part about growing up, one you should enjoy.”

Leaning in close, Katie wrapped both arms around Amanda. “You’re the best mom ever.”

“Easy there, youngster!” Amanda laughed. “I’m driving here!”

As soon as they arrived home, Katie parked the bag with her new underthings on the sofa, then rushed upstairs to her room. It wasn’t hard to imagine what she was up to, and Amanda wanted nothing more than to take a peek, even though she knew better than to violate the girl’s privacy. Even so, she knew the image of her daughter masturbating to thoughts of Jordan would be part of her own fantasies that night.

On to Chapter Three!

Go here for a guide to the women and girls who populate “Sweet Poppy.” To get a thumbnail summary of the plot, please check out the Chapter Links.

by Joe Dornish

As Kiki was away, Mum invited Henri to stay with us for the weekend while Lilly was staying over at Evie’s. The two little ones were inseparable and now pretty much lived together, shuttling back and forth between each other’s houses.

On Friday night after we’d had dinner, Mum smiled at Henri and me and said, “Come upstairs, girls.” There was nothing unusual about going upstairs to fuck Mum, even with Henri there, but the matter-of-fact way she asked had me wondering if something was up.

She invited us to sit on the bed, then she handed me a small plain plastic carrier bag with some boxes inside.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Have a look and see.”

I couldn’t believe my eyes. Mum had got me not one, but two vibrators!

One was a small, gold-coloured bullet with a ring you put your finger in to hold it steady. The button on the end started it off, and the box said it had fifteen different settings!

The other one was a proper vibrator. It was long and pink, smooth all over and didn’t look at all like a penis. It was so incredibly cute. It looked rather large at first glance, but when I studied the packaging it said, 5-Inch Beginner’s Ultravibe, so I figured it wouldn’t be too long to go inside me. Also in the carrier was a purple velvet drawstring bag and a box of sanitary wipes.

After I’d finished squealing with delight and hugging Mum half to death, she said, “Before and after you use these, or indeed any sex toys, give them a good clean with the wipes. Let me know when you run out and I’ll get you more. It’s important to do this, sweetie, so you don’t get an infection.”

“Okay, Mum,” I said, examining my new treasures. I switched the bullet vibrator on – bloody hell, it was powerful! I jumped so hard, I nearly fell off the bed, and Mum and Henri burst into laughter. I felt a right muppet, though I suppose it was pretty funny.

“The best way to tell how a vibrator will feel on the clit is to touch it to the tip of your nose,” said Henri.

Okay, that sounded like she was having me on. “You’re making that up,” I told her.

“No it’s true… here.” Henri took the bullet from me. She put it to her nose, then squirmed and giggled. “Oh, my, yes. That’s going to send you straight to the moon, Poppy.”

“Huh. I thought you were taking the piss.”

Henri giggled. “Well, Pops” – she had recently started calling me Pops, which I quite liked – “had I thought of a good joke, I’d have played it on you, so your thinking was on the money.”

So adorable. I leaned in to give Henri a passionate kiss, then I looked back and forth between her and Mum. “Well, are you two planning to help me use these things, or what?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Henri said, rubbing her hands together in anticipation.

“Erm…a little overdressed, aren’t we?” Mum pointed out.

I quickly got naked, as did Mum and Henri, then lay down with one of them on either side of me. I was nice and comfy, nestled between two beautifully bare women. Spreading my legs, I switched the bullet to its lowest setting, then cautiously touched it to my clit.

“Jesus FUCK! Oh, my… What the… Oooooohhhhh!”

It hit me like a truck. I was in shock, like I’d fallen in freezing cold water and couldn’t catch my breath. I was panting like a marathon runner from the second the toy touched me. Less than a minute later I came so hard I thought I’d peed myself, but was too shagged out to look and see. When I recovered, Mum gave me some chocolate and a Coke.

“Pretty intense, huh?” grinned Henri.

“Intense? Fuck, that was like… a nuclear orgasm.”

“Nuclear orgasm… I Iike that,” giggled Mum.

“I can’t wait to see how you get on with this one,” Henri said, passing me the pink vibrator.

While I got used to the feel of the toy in my hand, Mum told me, “I, er, have a small confession.”

“Oh, what’s that?”

“Have you noticed that I’ve been using my fingers on you a lot lately?”

I paused to think. “Now you mention it, yes.”

“I was sort of preparing you, I guess – making sure you were ready for, well, something bigger.”

“Oh, Mum… you should have said, I wouldn’t have minded! I totally trust you.”

Mum took me in her arms. “My dear sweet Poppy, I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.” We snuggled for a bit.

“Hey, Pops,” Henri said, pointing to the pink vibrator, which I was still holding, “want me to use that on you?” I think she was impatient to get back to the sex.

“Erm, well… thanks, Henri, but I really want to learn how to use this myself. Next time, okay?”

Luckily, her feelings weren’t hurt. “It’s your party, lover,” she said with a cute wink.

I switched the pink vibrator on at its lowest setting – just a continuous buzz really. Mum and Henri both agreed that the more unusual settings are fun to experiment with, but for actually getting off they preferred a steady vibration rather than a funky pattern. Lying back, I took a deep breath. “Okay, here I go…”

It didn’t feel as strong as the bullet, but maybe that was because this time I was prepared for it. I’d already come once, so my pussy was nice and slippery and the smooth vibrator slid easily into my hole. I just put the tip in at first, like Mum told me I should.

The feeling was immense. I mean, whole-body-tingling, head-spinning incredible. And I’d only put about an inch of it inside! I pulled it out, took a few seconds to catch my breath, then slipped it back into my vagina, going a bit deeper this time.

The size wasn’t uncomfortable at all, but the toy’s vibrations were so intense that it was making me sort of crazy, like a party was kicking off in my body. I felt like I was about to come, and I didn’t want to just yet. A moment later, I took it out.

Mum frowned. “You okay, sweetie? Does it hurt?”

“No, it’s just so, so powerful.”

She patted my thigh. “You don’t have to do it all in one day, sweetie.”

“No, I want to, but – but maybe, um, I do need a little help, after all.” I looked up at Henri.

“Here, pass it to me,” said Henri. I did, and she switched it off. “Okay, spread your legs.”

I opened myself up for her and she slipped the toy in my pussy. It entered me with no trouble. “Speak up right away if it hurts, okay?” she told me.

“Uh-huh. It feels fine, now it’s turned off,” I said.

“Your first orgasm with a vibe is always going to leave you super sensitive for a bit. I’ll try bringing you to the edge with it switched off, then I’ll turn it on and see how that feels.”

“Oh my God, that sounds good,”

I felt as safe in Henri’s hands as I did my mother’s. I trusted everyone in the Mad Eleven, of course, but Kiki and Henri were already like family to me. Using a slow slightly up and down movement Henri pushed the vibrator further and further into me. Mum was lying alongside, rubbing her cunt while she watched Henri fuck me with a toy for the first time.

Quite soon after she started, Henri grinned up at me and said, “It’s almost all the way in. Take a look.”

Propping myself up on both elbows, I peered between my legs. The five-inch vibe was buried deep inside me, just the very end sticking out where Henri was gripping it. I loved the way it looked, how it spread my pussy lips apart.

“God, that’s s-so fucking hot,” Mum gasped, and then she began to come.

I thought a little dirty talk might make her orgasm even better, so I started right in swearing, “Mummy, look, Henri’s fucking my cunt, can you see?”

“Now try it yourself,” Henri said, releasing the end of the vibrator. I took it in my hand and started pushing it in and out of myself – carefully at first, but within a few strokes I was going harder and deeper than Henri had done. It made me feel so amazingly sexy. I’m doing it. I’m fucking myself!

“Oh yes, sweetie… do it, baby girl… fuck your p-pretty little cunt,” Mum was panting, riding the wave of her climax.

I only went faster, plunging the toy in and out, in and out. It didn’t hurt at all – in fact, it felt better than ever! Henri was kneeling next to me and masturbating, her pussy so close to my face that I could smell it.

“It’s spread me open…it’s filling me up completely Mummy…I’m fucking my self mummy…mummy.”

My orgasm kinda crept up on me, I think I dirty talked myself into coming! I was ramming the thing in and out hard and staying right on the edge. Then I felt Henri touch my thigh.

“Let me.”

She took over and the difference was immediate. Maybe it was the angle, or her wrist technique, or that it was someone else fucking me, but I came straight away, and she didn’t even turn the vibrator on!

My orgasms often vary in how they feel and how intense they are. Sometimes they are like blissful sighs, other times they pound me mercilessly. The orgasm I got from the vibrator was in the mid-range, as far as intensity goes, but it felt very different somehow, much more inside me.

I know that sounds obvious, but as a girl of ten, it hadn’t occurred to me that there were varieties of sexual ecstasy. When the bullet sent my clit into overdrive, it was an electric sensation that raced through me, but centered between my legs. This climax, though, started deep inside and radiated outward in waves that got faster and faster as I came. It wasn’t better or worse, just different. After I’d recovered I explained all this to Mum and Henri.

“You should try the bullet and the vibe together,” said Henri. “The last time I did that, Mum said I practically screamed the house down.”

“Shit, I bet that’s incredible.”

“I’m sure you’ll be trying it on yourself soon,” said Mum. “Now, there’s something else I’ve got for you.”

She got to her feet, and I sat up cross-legged and watched as she took a small suitcase down from the top of the wardrobe, the sort you would take on a plane, then set it before me.

Mum indicated a small set of dials at the top of the suitcase. “The combination is 9876. Do NOT give it to Lilly, understand?”

“Yes, Mum.”

“Good girl. Now, sweetie, this is my toy case… and now it’s yours, too. You can keep the things I just gave in your room, if you like – but don’t leave them lying about, pop them in the velvet bag and in your bedside drawer. However, if you’re in the mood for something a little different, you’re welcome to go through these.” She twiddled the dials to the proper combination, then opened the lid of the case.

My eyes nearly fell out of my head. The sheer number and array of toys that Mum had in there was amazing. I didn’t know where to look; it was crammed full. While I gawped at the contents, Henri said, “Next time you come over, I’ll show you our toy chest. I know Mum won’t mind… in fact, I bet she’ll want to try some of her gear out on you.”

Mum chimed in. “Poppy, If you think this is impressive, just wait till you see Kiki’s toy collection. It’ll blow your mind.”

“I can’t wait to see them, but right now my mind is kind of blown by what you’ve got here! What’s this for?” I held up a purple thing that was C-shaped, like a sort of horseshoe with bulbous tips at each end.

Mum pointed at the different bits. “That part goes inside you, and this end rests against your clit. You can control it with an app.”

I took a second to process that. “So… I could put this in you and control it on my phone?”

“Uh-huh.”

“That’s crazy! I could be, like, miles away, huh?”

“You could be in Australia, and it wouldn’t make a difference,” Henri said. “I’ve had control of it while your mum wore it to work. Now that was fun!” said Henri.

“You’re kidding me!”

Mum went red. “Stop it, Henri, you’re giving her ideas. And no, Poppy, don’t even think about it, I creamed my knickers in a board meeting, I had to tell them I was unwell and excuse myself,” said Mum, her expression quite serious. Henri was in fits of giggles, and by the time Mum finished we were both in hysterics.

“It’s not funny,” Mum protested, making us laugh even harder, then she gave us a sheepish smile. “Okay, I suppose it is.”

The one in the bag that really caught my eye was a huge realistic looking penis, complete with balls. It was thick and half as long as my arm. When I picked it up it was surprisingly heavy, too.

“That might be a bit optimistic,” joked Henri.

I scoffed. “Don’t worry, this isn’t going anywhere near my pussy. I’m just surprised they make them this big.”

“That’s one of your mum’s favourites.”

“Get out! I thought this was a joke one! Mum, you can’t honestly get this whole thing inside yourself… can you?”

Mum blushed a bit. “You’d be surprised. It’s actually not my favourite, but when I’m in the mood it has its uses. To be honest, I’m not sure if I’ve ever taken the whole thing. See that suction cup on the base? I use that to stick it to the bathroom floor, then I ride it while I use the bullet on my clit.”

“Okay, now I’m impressed,” I said truthfully.

Mum reached into the suitcase. “This is the one we spoke about, Henri.” She took out a dildo, shaped a bit like a penis but not as realistic as the big one. It was purple with sparkly bits.

Henri studied it carefully, then passed it back to my mother and nodded. “Perfect.”

Mum handed it to me. “What do you think of this?”

“It’s bigger than my vibe.”

“Thicker, too,” said Henri.

“Keep it with your other ones,” Mum told me. “When you’ve used the pink one a few more times, you can move up to this. I don’t want you using anything bigger, okay? I’m trusting you to do as I ask. There are lots of things in here for you to try, but this is the size limit for now.”

“Okay, Mum. I think this is more than big enough. I’m not even sure I’ll try it. I’ll hang on to it, though.”

Who was I kidding? I had good intentions, but I also knew that curiosity was sure to get the better of me. I’d have that purple vibrator in my pussy before the week was out.

“Whatever you want, sweetie. Go at your own speed. Now, there’s one more type of toy I don’t want you to use just yet.” She produced a small silver thing with a beautiful pink gem at one end.

“This is a butt plug, and yes, this bit goes in your bum, and the gem stops it from slipping all the way in.”

She handed it to me. It was far heavier than I expected and cold, and about the width of two, maybe three of my fingers.

“It’s cute, but looks big. Does that go in easily?”

“With lube and practice, it does. It can be fun, but you’re too young. You can experiment with your bum as you get older, but for now let’s stick to just tongues and fingers in there, okay?”

As much as I liked the idea of a cute pink gem decorating my bottom, it did look much too big. “That’s fine with me Mum. Still, there’s loads of other stuff here that I’d love to try.” I picked up the remote-controlled horseshoe.

Mum grinned. “You like the idea of this one, eh?”

“Maybe, not sure.”

“Here, take this.” Mum handed me a bottle of lube. “Even if you’re already wet, a little lube can make these toys feel even better.”

“Okay, I’ll try it.”

We spent ages rooting through Mumls case, looking at all of the different sex toys she had. The rabbit looked interesting, and I remember thinking that I’d like to try it at some point. Right then, it looked a bit scary. The other one that got me thinking was the double-ended dildo, which I really liked the idea of ever since I saw the two girls in that porn film fucking with one. It was too big for me right then, but I was already looking forward to using it on Mia one day.

When I had seen everything I wanted, we put the case away. Mum and Henri were both brilliant. They patiently answered every question I threw at them, always treating me like an adult.

“Now then, young lady… since you got me all worked up, I think the least you can do is let me come in that pretty little mouth of yours,” Mum said, then she practically threw me on the bed.

I quickly got into position, then Mum straddled my face. That sweet, familiar scent filled my nostrils as she lowered her cunt to my eager tongue.

“Don’t think you’re getting off that easily,” I heard Henri say to Mum. She stood on the bed with a foot on either side of my head and offered her arse to my mother, who eagerly delved between Henri’s cheeks to  lick her bumhole.

The three of us fucked for at least an hour. Mum was much more demanding of me than she usually was, but in a good way. She had me every way she wanted, whereas normally she lets me do whatever I want. It was a lovely change of pace, letting Mum take charge.

The only other thing of note that happened that weekend took place when Henri went home on Sunday afternoon. As she left, when Mum wasn’t within earshot, she whispered to me, “If I was you, I’d practise with the purple vibe,” then winked. I was planning on using it at some point anyway, but after Henri said what she said, I decided to take my new toy for a test drive that very night.

When Lilly got home, Mum sat her down and explained to her that I was now experimenting with sex toys, then went on to tell my sister that she was too young to use them herself, not until she was a few years older. That made Lilly very upset, like I knew it would, Telling a seven-year-old she can’t play with toys while her big sister can is a very good way to start World War Three. “At least let me try,” was her main argument, but Mum stood firm.

Finally, I spoke up. “Mum? Lilly may be too young to put anything inside her, but could she maybe try using the bullet on her clit? That wouldn’t hurt her, I bet.”

Mum gave me a look, but I suspected that we’d just found our compromise. She thought about it for a moment, then said, “Fine, I suppose… but just a bullet, nothing else.”

Lilly was bouncing in her seat. “Yay! Can I have a go now?”

“Not now,” Mum replied. “But if you’re a good girl, we can try tonight.”

“Erm, how about if Lilly sleeps with you tonight, Mum? Then you can show her how it works, have fun, then  fall asleep right after. I’d like to try my toys on my own tonight.”

“This is going to cost me a small fortune in batteries,” Mum muttered, rolling her eyes.She couldn’t fool me, though – I knew she was already looking forward to being with Lilly.

***

I tried the larger purple dildo that night and was surprised how easily my pussy took it. Mind you, I didn’t go mad with it – just put the end in and played around with it so I could get used to the feel of it inside. After a while I felt confident enough to go deeper, and I ended up getting the toy nearly all the way into my vagina.

It was a lot of fun. I liked the way I felt full and stretched, and how it looked when the dildo was half in and half out. It was an incredibly naughty feeling, even when Mum had given me permission.

***

I was having lunch with Mia on Monday when Beth came over, a dreamy cast to her eyes.

Mia spoke up first. “Hi, Beth! So… how was your weekend?”

“Omigod. It was totally amazing. I’m sooo in love with Kiki.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet,” I said. Tell us everything!”

“Well, we got to Bath, then checked into this stunning five-star hotel. She told the lady on the desk that I was her daughter!” She giggled.

“Did you have a double bed?”

“Yeah, but it’s a suite, like the best room they have. It’s more like a little apartment but without a kitchen. There are two separate bedrooms and a lounge-type area. Oh my God, the bathroom! It had a huge sunken tub. Here, look…”

Beth got her phone out and showed us the pictures she’d taken of the hotel room and the places they went to in Bath. Clearly, Kiki had spoiled her for the entire weekend. They did a lot of shopping. Beth was wearing a beautiful ring that Kiki bought her and, apparently, she had tons of new clothes, shoes and sexy underwear too. It reminded me that I’d not tried on all the things Kiki had gotten for me. I was waiting for a special occasion, but listening to Beth talk about all her new clothes made me want to wear mine.

Besides the shopping, they ate in the best restaurants, saw a play and visited the Roman Baths. And of course, they had lots and lots of sex. Kiki is as generous with her love as she is with her money, and Beth was being showered with the benefits, an enviable position to be in. It never occurred to us to question a sexual relationship between a twelve-year-old girl and a thirty-four-year-old woman. In our little world, it was simply a natural, beautiful love to be celebrated.

Then I told Mia and Beth all about my weekend, but in comparison to Beth’s holiday of luxury and love, my tales of new toys seemed downright tame. At least that’s what I thought.

A few days later I got home from school, only to be confronted by Mum with, “Have you heard about the ruckus you’ve created, young lady?”

“Me? What have I done?” I was utterly confused. Honestly, I’m a well-behaved girl most of the time.

Mum smiled when she answered me, though, which calmed my anxiety somewhat. “What you may not know is that we adults had a little chat about sex toys and porn at Kiki’s.”

“When Kiki called you all into the kitchen? We wondered what you were talking about.”

“Here’s the thing: all the moms in the Mad Eleven have discussed how and when we should introduce sex toys to you kids. Emma and I were hesitant, but Kiki and Nicole said we should at least consider it. The upshot is that the four of us were trying to work out a plan… then little Miss Poppy announces that she wants sex toys and she wants them now, thank you very much.”

“Oops, sorry!” I say, unable to restrain a nervous giggle.

Mum ruffled my hair. “Don’t be sorry, you’re just being yourself and exploring new things. Keep being you, sweetie, because you’re very special.” Then she kissed me on the forehead. “Anyway, you told Mia and Beth about your toys… and now Beth, Mia and Evie are all up in arms, badgering their mums for vibrators of their own. Then Evie found out Lilly’s been using my bullet vibrator… and that was it, she went mental. It hasn’t helped that Lottie’s got sex toys of her own, and she’d been teasing Mia and Evie about it. So Evie just told her mum that she is on strike, and won’t be doing her chores or homework until she gets to use a bullet like Lilly does.”

“Ah. Erm, yeah, that’s a tough one. Don’t know what to tell you, Mum.”

“Thanks, you’re a great help,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Hee hee, I do my best.”

“Speaking of toys, how are you getting on with that purple dildo?”

“Oooh, I love it. Uh… I do get to keep it, right?”

“Of course. By the way…would you like one of the more realistic-looking ones?”

I had been distracted recently with my new toys and everything that was going on within our Mad Eleven group so I hadn’t picked-up on Mum’s odd questions over the last few days. She kept asking about dildos and what I liked or didn’t like about them. At first I thought she was just being curious and watching out for me, which I’m sure she was. But now I feel there is more to it all and something told me I was about to find out what.

“Erm, no, it’s okay, I’m not interested in the real looking ones.”

“Sweetie, may I ask you a personal question?”

“Of course, Mum. You know you can ask me anything.”

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to… but is there any chance that you might want to explore sex with a boy one day?”

That shocked me, and no mistake. “What? I – what the fuck, Mum? NO. Definitely not. I’m a lesbian, Mum, why on earth would I want to…”

Mom hastened to calm me. “It’s okay, calm down! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I just wanted you to know that if you were interested in boys that way, it was perfectly okay. I still love you, nothing will ever change that…”

“Mum… Mum, STOP. Listen to me,” I said, then paused to make sure she got the message.

“Thanks for looking out for me,” I continued, then kissed her, “But I’ve got zero interest in boys. This stuff with the dildos is not about me dropping hints. I’m just doing what you told me to do, having fun and exploring. I’m a lesbian and I can’t ever see that changing, but I promise that if I start fancying boys you’ll be the first to know. But so far… urgghh, no thanks.”

She gave me a sheepish grin. “Sorry to be nosy, sweetie. I just want to make sure you don’t close off any avenues that later in life you may regret.”

“Are you talking about kids?”

“Partly. In general, though, I’m trying to encourage you to keep an open mind. I’m so glad you’re happy and confident in your sexuality. It’s a wonderful thing, especially at your age. All right, I promise not to pry any more,” she added, raising one hand as if she was swearing an oath.

I had to laugh. “That’s okay, you can pry. I don’t always understand it sometimes, but I do know that you want what’s best for us. Can I ask you something now?”

“Sure.”

“Is that how it happened for you? I mean, you were a lesbian first, then found out you liked men?”

“No, it was the other way round. Like you, I had sexual urges at a very early age – three or four years old, believe it or not – but it was always boys I was attracted to. The idea of girls never really occurred to me until I started puberty at about eleven. My hormones kicked in, and instead of losing my virginity to a boy in a nice romantic encounter as I’d imagined,  I had fantastic crazy sex with another girl. Shortly after that I had sex with a boy for the first time and it was awful; too quick and he had no idea what he was doing. After that, boys rarely featured in my love life, but I did very occasionally have it off with a man.”

“Like with my father?”

“No. He’s special and very dear to me. He was bisexual back then, and slept with women as often as I slept with men… which was hardly ever. He’s been married to a lovely man for some time now… they live in a cottage in the Cotswolds.”

“I never knew that he was married to a man.”

“There’s lots you don’t know about your father. I could tell you more, if you like.”

Did I want to know more about him? Perhaps the dark silhouette of a random man in my mind was enough for now.

“Um, maybe another time?”

“Okay, sweetie, whenever you’re ready.”

***

I was over the moon when Mum told me that the adults had arranged for the Mad Eleven to meet five times in the next six months. The next full gathering of our little society was to be my birthday. In the meantime, I spent most of my free time with Mia, but we squeezed in a few dirty little orgies here and there.

By then, Beth was practically living at Kiki’s, as was Lottie, who’s relationship with Henri was going from strength to strength. They even talked about going public at school, but thought better of it.

As for Mum, she spent a lot of time with little Evie. It was quite funny, actually – if Mum hadn’t seen Evie for a few days, she would call Nicole and tell her she needed some ‘Evie time’. Nicole would then arrange for Mum to have sex with Evie. Sometimes Mum would have her over for the night.

Us kids were often invited over for some sexy fun with the other adults. For instance, one day Emma told Mum she had an urge to fuck me and Lilly together. We were happy to oblige, and why wouldn’t we be? It was great fun, we were both ecstatic that this gorgeous lady wanted us, and I was always ready for sex with my little sister.

It worked the other way, too. I wanted some time with Nicole and Lottie again, so I asked Mum about it. and the following night they came over and fucked me silly. The littlest ones, Lilly and Evie, were in high demand, but they got what they wanted, too. Lilly wanted to spend a night with Kiki, so Mum arranged a sleepover for them. Of course, Kiki was thrilled to oblige. Lilly came back the next day, bubbling over with the details of her wild time with Kiki and Henri. So it wasn’t like us kids were being loaned out and passed around or anything. We all loved being invited to stay with the others in our group, adults and kids, and we got our wishes granted just as much, probably even more than the adults did.

***

Mia stayed over one Friday and we were going through my drawers when she came across the unopened hold-ups Kiki bought me that day at the mall.

Her eyes lit up. “Wow! You have stockings?”

“Kiki got them for me. I’ve never tried them on, though. I’ve got a couple of thongs, too.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh.” I fished through the drawer and found the small lace thongs. One was white, one black.

Flashing me a saucy grin, Mia said, “Shall we try them on?”

It’s funny – when I was in the lingerie shop with Kiki and she bought these things for me, it thrilled me to bits, but I sort of forgot about them afterwards because so much has been happening in my life, especially to do with sex. But Mia’s excitement proved to be contagious, and I couldn’t wait to play dress-up with her.

We stripped off and got into my sexy underthings, then modelled them in the wardrobe mirror and for each other. I fell in love with them straight away. Mia tried the tan hold-ups with the white thong, and I tried the black thong and stockings. Needless to say, we both got very aroused and fell on each other, our mouths meeting in a deep, heated kiss.

Within a minute or two, my cute girlfriend and I were having sex. The feeling of the nylon on our legs as they slid together was delightful. I clutched Mia’s stockinged leg to my chest as I ground my pussy into hers. We didn’t even take the thongs off, just pulled them to the side like we saw the ladies in the porn film do and fucked like crazy.

Soon after, smelling of pussy and with wet patches in our knickers, we paraded in our undies for Mum and Lilly in the living room. They soon forgot about the film, and the four of us ended up naked and spread out on the carpet, enjoying each other.

Adult Dress-Up, as we soon came to call it, played a big part in our sex lives after that, including the fishnets I promised myself I’d save for a special occasion. When Mum saw me in those and nothing else, she instantly undressed and ravished me on the kitchen floor. Afterwards, I told her that I’d really love to have some more sexy lingerie, but she said I’d have to wait until my birthday.

***

One Saturday evening, Mia and I were feeling particularly naughty. We knew Kiki and Henri were at home, and fancied going over to surprise them. The plan we came up with was so outrageous, I didn’t think for one moment Mum would agree… but as I was to learn, it pays to at least ask.

I’d been practising walking around in my heels for a while now and had broken them in nicely. They were now comfy and I didn’t snap my ankle when I walked, which was a bonus. I’d only ever worn them around the house, though, and longed to give them a proper outing. When Mia first saw my heels, she pestered her mother until she got her own pair and we’d been practising wearing them together, much to Mum’s delight. She really liked spreading Mia and me on the kitchen table and going down on us while we were wearing them.

So we came down to see Mum in the kitchen wearing nothing but our heels, hold-ups and thongs. I was in the black one, which was my favourite. I gave my mother a big smile. “Um, Mum?”

She folded her arms. “Why do I get the feeling that you two little vixens are looking for trouble?”

“Well… I don’t think you‘ll go for this, but you always said I could ask. So…you know I want to go out and really try my heels, right?”

“Mmm-hmm?”

“Could Mia and I walk over to visit Kiki and Henri, and maybe spend the night with them?”

“On your own?” She looked out of the window. It was only seven o’clock, but in late October in England, that meant it had been dark out for a couple of hours. I knew the route like the back of my hand. it would take about fifteen minutes, maybe twenty in our heels.

“Yeah, just the two of us. We’ll call you when we get there, so you know we’re safe.”

Mum frowned. “I don’t know, sweetie… perhaps if it was daylight, but…”

“And we’re going like this.”

“You’re what?”

“With our coats on, of course,” I hastened to add.

“But under our coats,” said Mia, “this is what we’ll be wearing. We’ll take them off right before Kiki opens the door. Um, to surprise her.”

“Ah, I see. Well, you’ll certainly do that! I’ve no doubt that Kiki will love this, but I’m not sure about you girls walking there on your own. How about if I drop you off?”

“Mum, the whole point is to go for a walk in our heels.”

“Hmmm. Let me speak to Nicole first, I’m not saying yes without your mum agreeing, Mia.”

When Mum went to use the phone, Mia and I couldn’t stop grinning at each other. We couldn’t believe she was even considering this. Now there was a chance it might actually happen, and we were beside ourselves with excitement.

After a moment, Mum came in and set the phone down on the side. “Well, get your coats on, then.”

“You’re kidding!” I gasped. “Really?”

“I’m not kidding, and you can go. But there are conditions. Make sure you both have your phones on. Go straight there and don’t stop to talk to anyone. If you’ve not called me to say you’re at Kiki’s in thirty minutes, I’m coming looking for you. If I’ve not heard from you in forty-five minutes, I’m calling the police. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mummy.”

“Thank you, Heather!” Mia exclaimed.

“You’re welcome. Have fun, then! Oh, and Poppy… I want a detailed account of what happens when you get back tomorrow”

Wrapped up in our coats and scarves, we each gave Mum a hot tongue kiss, then set off, the pair of us clip-clopping down the road in our heels. Mum took a picture of us as we left.

God, it felt good to be out with no adults, dressed like this. We looked like a pair of underage hookers, but strutted down the road like we owned it. The cold crept under our coats, reminding us constantly of our lack of clothing underneath, but that did nothing to dim our spirits – or our growing arousal.

As it happened, we saw only two people: a man walking a dog some ways off in the distance, and a woman with a young boy of about seven. She gave us the strangest look, then I nodded and said, “Good evening,”

“Good evening,” she politely replied. When they were out of earshot, Mia and I burst out laughing. What that woman must have thought about seeing a pair of preteen girls in heels and nylons out on their own in the dark like that, I’ll never know.

We were starting to really feel the cold after a few minutes, as well as needing to pee, so Mia and I picked up the pace for the last stretch of our little journey. When we got to Kiki’s, I gave Mum a quick ring to let her know we’d made it there safely, while Mia keyed in the four-digit code for the gate. We got to the front door and rang the bell, which was sure to confuse Kiki and Henri, as they hadn’t buzzed anyone through the gate. Mia and I dropped our coats and scarves on the ground and stood shivering at the door in stockings, heels and thongs. Thankfully, Kiki opened the door quickly, Henri right behind.

Needless to say, she was delighted. “Oh, my stars! You little devils! What are you doing here?”

“We thought we’d surprise you!” Mia cried.

“You certainly did that,” said Henri. “Now come inside, before you freeze to death,”

Kiki bundled us indoors. We got big hugs from her and Henri. I was eager to have fun. But right then, there was another urgent need to deal with.

“Erm, sorry Kiki, but we’re desperate for the loo…” I told her.

She clasped both hands together as if in prayer. “Oh, my… God must truly love me, for she has delivered me two half-naked little beauties with full bladders. Come along, my darlings – we mustn’t waste such an opportunity.”

As we followed her toward the bathroom Kiki said, “Hen, darling, would you be a dear and grab my small vibe?”

“Sure, but erm… I’ll help you with that if you like.”

Pausing in mid-step, Kiki asked her daughter, “Are you sure, darling?”

Henri nodded. “Yeah, it’ll be fun.”

Henri was not into watersports – not on the receiving end, anyway. She was happy to pee on someone though, especially her mother. But offering to bring Kiki off herself would put Henri in the firing line. This lovely offer she was making for her mother was not lost on me. I think Henri realised this was one of those rare opportunities that pop up now and again, and wanted to be involved. Then again, maybe it was just a love offering to her mother

While Kiki and Henri stripped down, Mia and I finished undressing. I had no intention of getting pee on my best shoes! Once everyone was naked, we laid Kiki down on the bathroom floor. This particular loo is what Kiki calls the Wet Room. It’s designed like the huge gym shower at school, tiled from floor to ceiling, with a drain in the room’s centre. You could get up to just about anything there, then wash away the evidence. And the room has underfloor heating, so the tiles are kept nice and warm.

With Kiki spread out on the floor, Henri knelt down and began to lick her mum’s pussy. “All right, girls,” Kiki told Mia and me, “just let go whenever you’re ready to. Don’t be afraid to soak me completely.” I stood above her head, while Mia was facing me astride Kiki’s belly.

It took a minute or so for us to start peeing. I held mine back until Mia let go. My stream went further forward than I thought, some of it splashing on Mia and Henri, so I moved back a step and squatted over Kiki’s face. Her mouth was open and searching for the stream, gulping down as much as she could. Mia was moving her hips back and forth over Kiki’s body, bathing her as well as she could.

Henri was getting quite a lot of crossfire while she went down on her mum, but she refused to stop until Kiki came so hard that she screamed. Kiki usually isn’t very loud when she climaxes, and it was the first time I’d ever seen such a visceral reaction from her.

Before long we were done peeing, but Kiki’s orgasm seemed to go on for ages. So Mia and I rubbed our cunts all over her body, and I got her to lick me while Henri ate her until she came again. Kiki was so shagged out afterward that we practically had to carry her into the shower.

We got ourselves cleaned up, then Mia and I got back into our undies and stockings. (We wanted to make the most of them that night.) The four of us went to the kitchen to relax for a bit with drinks and snacks, then Mia and I was rewarded for our surprise visit with a night of incredible sex. We got to see Henri and Kiki use the double-ended dildo on each other as a special treat. It was way too big for Mia or me to take, but we borrowed some of Kiki’s other toys to pleasure ourselves with while we watched mum and daughter fuck. It was a wonderful night.

Two days later Mia and I each got a huge bouquet of flowers, delivered to us at our homes with thank-you cards. That was Kiki and Henri all over – thoughtful, generous and loving.

After that first get-together of the Mad Eleven, encounters like these kept the mood going as we drew closer and closer to my birthday. Each week my friends – or lovers, if you like – were all buzzing about some new and exciting idea that had come up in the planning of my party. No one wanted to tease me, so for my sake there wasn’t much chit-chat about it when I was around.

A week before the party, all I knew was that I needed to be up, dressed and ready to go by 10 AM. To make matters worse, Mum had asked me not to have sex or masturbate for three days before the big day. Okay, she didn’t actually order me to not have an orgasm during that time, but she said that going hungry before a big meal always makes it taste better. Then Mum said that she wouldn’t be allowing herself to come, either. That was enough to convince me, but gosh, it was a lot harder than I expected. Who knew that sex could be so addictive?

On to Chapter Eighteen!

A savory offering from a new author. Be sure to leave a comment if you enjoy it, and perhaps he’ll give us another. Welcome aboard, Christoff! — JetBoy

by Christoff

It wasn’t what I’d wanted, being stuck at home — especially my mum’s home. When I planned out what to do after finishing my teaching degree, it was all about travel. New countries, distant beaches, interesting people and all sorts of thrilling possibilities. Yet, there I was, in Mum’s front room, cursing the pandemic and feeling sorry for myself.

Things had eased up a bit since the beginning of the lockdown, but foreign travel was still definitely off the agenda — at least the way that I wanted to do it, taking in as many countries as I could afford. It had been too late to apply for any teaching jobs for September, so I’d have to keep an eye out for January. Most likely, it would be almost a year until there was much for me to choose from.

I could tell I was getting on Mum’s nerves, but being the saint that she is, she hid it well. I still felt guilty, though. I mean, here I was, a young woman of twenty-one, living at home with no social life to speak of. To be honest, I think I was cramping her style!

One afternoon, Mum came into the front room and sat down next to me. I braced for the heart-to-heart talk that I assumed was about to take place. Bless her, she meant well, but there was only so many of those I could take.

As it turned out, that wasn’t what she wanted at all.

“I was just talking to Carol next door,” she said. “As her Hannah is homeschooling while the schools are closed, she was wondering if you wouldn’t mind helping her out with a spot of tutoring.”

I knew that Carol worked full time, and it takes the most dedicated of children to work effectively under their own steam. There were going to be a lot of kids with serious catching up to do, once the schools reopened.

“What kind of help does Hannah need?” I asked.

“Just keep her focused and on task, I think,” Mum replied. “Her school is sending out all the work each day, so she just needs a bit of direction. Oh, and Carol said she’d pay you. Won’t be much, I shouldn’t think, but better than nothing.”

I mulled it over. To be honest, I didn’t really remember Hannah, not having seen her since finishing Uni. In fact, the last time I saw her properly was probably a year ago, and that memory was hazy at best. Still, I didn’t have anything better to do with my time.

“Yeah, okay, why not. Tell her I’m game. Shall we say tomorrow morning at nine?”

“Okay, perfect,” Mum replied. “I’ll let Carol know.”

Next morning, I rang the bell next door and was greeted by a smiling Carol.

“Thank you so much for this, Emily. You really are a life saver. Hannah’s a great kid, she just needs to be kept on track with her school work. She’s looking forward to working with you.”

“I’m sure we’ll be fine,” I replied. “Where is Hannah?”

“She’s just getting ready; be down in a minute. I’ve got to dash, so set yourself up at the kitchen table.” She snatched up her purse and car keys. “Okay, then, I’ll catch you later. Thanks again, I’m really grateful!”

“No problem. Don’t work too hard.”

After the front door closed, I made my way to the kitchen and sat down at the large pine table. I wasn’t sure what to expect, so I was a little nervous as Hannah came down the stairs. “Hi,” I heard her say, and turned to greet her.

When I opened my mouth to reply, the words nearly stuck in my throat.

As I said, I hadn’t seen Hannah for quite a while, but the girl I saw before me wasn’t at all what I’d expected. Somehow I had it in my head that she was still a skinny little eight-year-old, all gap-toothed smile and knobbly knees. In the back of my mind, I remembered Mum saying she was a couple of months short of her thirteenth birthday, but it obviously hadn’t registered.

The Hannah now standing before me was about 5’6″, slim and firm with wavy blonde hair just below shoulder length, flashing me a dazzling smile — no space between those perfect teeth. She was dressed, to my surprise, in her school uniform. White shirt and tie, a black pencil skirt to mid-thigh and black ankle socks.

After what seemed like an age I managed to stammer out a “Hi,” and she came over to the table and sat next to me.

“Thanks for doing this,” she said. “It’s really nice of you.”

“You’re welcome,” I replied before adding, “Can I just ask… why are you wearing the school uniform at home?”

She shrugged. “Oh, it just helps me focus, so there’s not so much of a difference between doing school work and being at home. The school suggested it, actually.” She grinned. “Also, I figured as long as you were going to be tutoring me, I ought to dress the part.”

I was suddenly aware that my mouth was dry and it felt like I was staring, so I made an excuse to fetch us both some water before we got started. As I took the pitcher from the refrigerator and filled the glasses, my mind drifted back ten years to my first year at secondary school when the nagging feeling of being different cemented itself in me. When being around all those girls at various stages of development made it clear to me that I was gay.

All the pubescent crushes, the disappointments and occasional joys came rushing back as I brought our glasses to the table and handed one to this twelve-year-old beauty before me. She smiled, and I felt quite lightheaded, thinking, It’s going to be a very long, very distracting couple of weeks.

As the day progressed, it became clear that Hannah was actually pretty self-sufficient, and I began to wonder whether her mum’s concerns were more reflective of her own anxieties than Hannah’s. Her school was assigning her some very challenging work, but she seemed to have it well in hand. My role seemed to be limited to keeping her from getting distracted, providing refreshments and occasionally helping out with some of the particularly tough stuff.

This allowed me ample time to drink in the view of this stunning young girl. I realised pretty quickly that she had a quality that truly set her apart. I’d spent plenty of time with girls her age while working towards my degree, but none were quite like her. Everything about Hannah was an intoxicating combination of innocence and maturity. Though not quite a woman, somehow it seemed like she’d been one for years.

Physically she was slight, yet shapely, and her face was girlish but beautiful. The angle she was sitting at in relation to me meant that I could see pretty much all of her – and each time she shifted position, her skirt rode up just a tantalising few millimetres to reveal a little more of her slim, elegant legs.

I assumed Hannah was so engrossed in her work that she hadn’t noticed my wandering eyes, but not long before we finished for the day, there was the briefest moment of recognition. Looking back on it now, I think it was the turning point. It lasted a couple of seconds at most, but from then on everything between us was different.

It happened when Hannah moved in her chair like before – only this time, her skirt rode up further than it had thus far, enough to give me a glimpse of her baby blue panties. I nearly gasped out loud, but managed to choke it back. I did make a sound, though, and that caused her to glance up at me.

She reached down instinctively to readjust her skirt, then paused when she noticed where my eyes had been. I’d looked away as quickly as I could, but she knew. She knew. I could feel my cheeks get hot at the realisation that the little girl next door had just sussed that I’d been checking her out.

And then something completely unexpected happened. She gave the briefest of smiles and got back to her work, leaving her skirt exactly as it was.

I was at a complete loss, didn’t know how to respond. Could Hannah be making fun of me? Was she trying to tease? Or… did she honestly want me to see her knickers?

At any rate, I felt as if I’d given too much of myself away to this girl… so I kept my eyes up, looking anywhere but between her legs. If this was some sort of prank on Hannah’s part, I wouldn’t get caught up in it.

Not long after that, we finished with the day’s work. After I’d gone through what we’d covered, I packed up my shoulder bag and told Hannah, “Okay, then – I’ll be back tomorrow morning.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” she said just before letting me out, then smiled as she closed the door behind me.

“Bloody hell,” I whispered. Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I made my way back next door, to home and safety.

That night, I brought myself to orgasm three times before drifting into a hazy slumber.

***

The next morning, I approached Hannah’s house, feeling a mixture of apprehension and excitement. Hannah’s mum had phoned the previous evening to thank me again for helping her out. She also said that her daughter seemed really happy with the arrangement and, because of that, Carol was going to return to normal working hours, which meant I wouldn’t be seeing her in the mornings.

I wasn’t sure how to feel about this new development. Perhaps I was subconsciously hoping that seeing her mum every day might snap me out.of the spell that Hannah seemed to be working on me. I hadn’t slept brilliantly the night before, with all sorts of thoughts and longings buzzing around my head, many of them inappropriate at best.

Despite all the contradictory feelings I was wrestling with, I decided to dress differently that day. Instead of the jeans and t-shirt I’d worn for our first session, I went for a skirt and a fitted jumper with formal shoes. If I was going to be her teacher, I ought to look more like one. That’s what I told myself, anyhow.

Hannah opened the door and, before even greeting me, said, “Wow, Emily, you look amazing today!”

“You mean I looked terrible yesterday?” I replied.

“Ha, ha, no,” she laughed. “You’d look amazing in anything.”

“Oh, erm, thanks, I’m sure you would too,” I almost stammered. I could feel a reddening in my cheeks. Fucking hell, I scolded myself, could you possibly be any more lame?

She gave me that little smile again and turned towards the kitchen. As I closed the door and followed, I realised that whilst she was still wearing her school uniform, she’d switched skirts. This one was somewhat shorter than yesterday’s. I couldn’t help but think, There’s absolutely no way she could wear that to school. Which could mean only one thing… she’d worn it for me.

As Hannah led me to the kitchen I couldn’t help but study her figure. Her bottom was perfect, and those legs… oh my, those legs. The sight took me back to an occasional girlfriend I’d had at university. I’d called round to see her one evening, and she too had worn a skirt as short as Hannahs. On that occasion, I hadn’t let her get as far as a couple of metres before pressing up behind and reaching round to run my hands up the front of the skirt, one hand delving into her knickers. She had been twenty and Hannah was twelve, but I was fighting a powerful urge to do the same. Luckily the corridor was short, and we reached the kitchen before I could lose control.

We resumed our places from yesterday, but I quickly noticed a subtle change. Hannah had changed the angle of her chair. Now she was directly facing me, and nothing of her was hidden by the table. She was also sitting slightly differently, more openly. It was going to be almost impossible for me to peek under that sexy skirt without her noticing.

An exciting thought popped into my head… was she inviting me to look?

Hannah got started on her schoolwork with me carrying on in my support role, but it was hard to concentrate on anything beyond the intoxicating twelve-year-old seated in front of me. Just like yesterday, her skirt rode up a little each time she shifted in her chair. And because her skirt was so short to begin with, I was getting a good look at the inside of Hannah’s thighs. I wanted to fall to my knees before her, press my lips to that unimaginable softness.

About midway through the morning, Hannah was obviously feeling a little uncomfortable from sitting on a hard kitchen chair and leaned back, stretching her arms and legs. That caused her skirt to ride up high enough to reveal everything. The very tops of her firm thighs and, in between, the tight white fabric of her knickers. I was transfixed by the sight, my mouth hanging open. I slowly dragged my eyes away from Hannah’s crotch and up to her face, only to find her smiling.

“I love the way you look at me,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.

As Hannah spoke she reached down and tugged the skirt up and over her hips, raising herself up from the chair as she did so and spreading her legs. Now she was completely on display.

The knickers she wore summed her up completely. Plain white and cotton, the kind you’d expect a girl of twelve to wear, but trimmed with a subtle lace pattern around the top. They were snug enough to show the outline of her labia beneath.

I felt myself mouthing the words, “Oh my God.”

Nervously licking my lips, I raised my head again to meet Hannah’s amused gaze.

She smiled again, cocked her head slowly to one side and murmured, “Well, you’ve seen mine…”

I could scarcely breathe. Even this far down the rabbit hole, what was left of my rational side was screaming at me that this was a bad idea that could go wrong in at least a dozen different ways. But my rationality was fast evaporating, as if I was being driven by some outside force.

Slowly lifting myself a few centimetres from the chair, I grasped the hem of my skirt. As I slowly hoisted it up, I noted with no small satisfaction that it was Hannah’s turn to be transfixed by what she saw. Underneath the skirt, I wore a black thong. Not overtly sexy as such, but certainly skimpier than what Hannah was wearing and sheer enough to expose my pussy.

Hannah scooted her chair towards me, close enough for her to slide her left knee between mine. Slowly extending a hand, she rested it on my left thigh, then began to slide it upward, never breaking her gaze, looking me intently in the eye. Once she’d reached the top of my thigh, she hesitated, perhaps feeling a bit unsure of herself.

Sensing she needed some encouragement, I reached up to stroke Hannah’s cheek, then gently guided her towards me until our lips brushed. It was the briefest of kisses if it could be called one at all, but it seemed to rejuvenate her, and she moved her hand to the front of my thong.

I couldn’t help but let out a small gasp, and Hannah flashed her killer smile, her confidence renewed. As she pressed her hand against my vulva, I leaned in and this time, as we drew together, I opened my mouth slightly and traced her lower lip with the tip of my tongue. She was quick to take the hint, and soon our tongues were mingling deliciously, caught up in a sexy dance. Hannah began to stroke me through the thin material of my thong.

The kiss was so intense, it was inevitable that we’d have to break to catch our breath. As our eyes met again, my underage lover removed her hand and stood up. Reaching for my hands, she grasped them in hers and pulled me to my feet.

“Come on,” she said and started for the stairs.

I meekly followed, but once we reached the top I stopped, then turned Hannah to face me. “Are you sure about this?” I said.

That smile again – then she pulled me into her room.

In the back of my mind, I was acutely aware that I was in the bedroom of a twelve-year-old girl, and this was only going to end in one way, with the two of us in bed together, having lesbian sex. I suppose that realisation should have sent me running for the hills, but this was no ordinary girl of twelve. She had more allure than any person I’d ever met, let alone ever slept with. She was utterly irresistible. More than that, she knew what she wanted and was determined to have it. The idea of refusing her didn’t even seem like an option.

Feeling a sudden wave of lust, I took Hannah in my arms, claiming her mouth in a kiss. Once again, we two were locked in an all-encompassing embrace – tongues mingling, our hands beginning to roam, a heat building between my thighs that had to be dealt with. I eased her towards the bed until, sensing where she was, she let herself fall back onto it, her legs spread wide.

Lying down alongside, I nuzzled her neck whilst reaching over to start unbuttoning her school shirt. Once I’d released two or three buttons, I was able to reach in and cup Hannah’s breast. It felt perfect to me, no bigger than my hand but firm and perky, the nipple stiffening to my touch.

I swung a leg over Hannah to straddle her, then ran both hands up her torso until I reached her bra. It was white and lace-trimmed, clearly matching her knickers. Gently tugging it up to bare her budding breasts, I bent down to take a nipple into my mouth, gently sucking to make it stiffen. I shifted from the left breast to the right and back again, lightly biting each one in turn. Glancing up at Hannah’s face, I saw her eyes closed and her mouth open, the girl’s face radiant with happiness.

Eager to sample more of her delights, I drifted downward, kissing a path across her tummy, stopping just briefly to tease her navel with a flick of tongue while I reached down to lift her skirt up above her knickers. Hannah was struggling out of her bra, which she tugged out from beneath her shirt and threw to one side.

I traced a line of butterfly kisses up one thigh and then, passing over her sodden knickers, I kissed my way up the other. But I couldn’t wait any longer and, pulling the gusset to one side with my fingers, I drew my tongue from the bottom of her beautiful wet cleft, up through her labia, across the opening to her vagina, then gave her clit a playful lick. She let out the most sensual moan I’d ever heard, earthy and passionate.

Kneeling up, I grasped the waistband of Hannah’s knickers, then pulled them down and off. I sat back, taking a moment to savour the view. Her school shirt was wide open to reveal small but perfect breasts, her school tie nestled between them. The skirt was bunched up around her waist, leaving her naked from the waist down apart from coal-black ankle socks. I couldn’t imagine a more erotic sight.

This time, I started my kisses just above Hannah’s knee, leaving a line of them up her inner thigh with an occasional lick to excite her. I loved the smell, the softness, the slightly salty flavour of her skin. Looking up, I saw that Hannah had raised herself onto her elbows in order to watch me. Her face was a picture of lust and passion, a sight that spurred my own desire higher until there was nothing I could do but return to her sweet young pussy. She had a truly lovely sex, topped by the merest blush of soft blonde down.

I’d intended to take my time making love to Hannah, but the sheer eroticism of the situation was doing my head in – I had to have her now.

Bringing a finger up to gently explore Hannah’s vaginal opening, I began to tease her clitoris with the tip of my tongue. Within seconds, she was rocking her head back and forth, her breath gone ragged and shallow. I knew she was close, and sensed that she did, too. Hannah was clutching at the covers and arching her back, raising that cute bum up from the bed.

Determined that Hannah’s orgasm was going to be one for the record books, I took her clit between my lips to suck, meanwhile inching my finger into what proved to be a very snug vagina. I only managed to insert the tip, but it was enough to send my twelve-year-old lover over the edge.

Those powerful thighs clamped the sides of my head as Hanneh cried, “Oh… oh, God!” Her ecstasy seemed to go on forever but probably lasted less than a minute before she went limp as a dishrag.

I crawled up to stretch out next to her. I wanted a kiss but held back, knowing that my lips and chin were coated with her juices. With an older partner, I wouldn’t have hesitated, but I didn’t know about how a girl of twelve would feel about tasting her own pussy. I needn’t have worried, though – as soon as Hannah opened her eyes, she crushed her mouth to mine in a fierce tongue kiss. Finally breaking away, she lay back, sampling the flavour from her lips.

Finally sated, she whispered, “I’ve never felt anything so good. Is that what sex is always like?”

“With the right person, yeah,” I replied.

She kissed me again, but this time Hannah reached down to grab the bottom of my jumper. Pulling it up and over my head, she gasped as she realised that I wasn’t wearing a bra. My boobs were barely bigger than hers, and she immediately drew a moan from me by cupping them, running her thumbs over my nipples.

Clumsily getting herself into a kneeling position, she shoved me back onto the bed and bent down to kiss my breasts, sealing her mouth over each nipple in turn. I could feel her tie dragging over my belly, a reminder if I needed one that this was a schoolgirl making me squirm and gasp. Her hand trailed down my side to find the zip on my skirt, pulling it down with a single tug. Lifting her mouth from my breast, she nuzzled my stomach as she wriggled the skirt down my legs and off, leaving me in my thong.

Hannah was possessed by a fierce passion that seemed out of character for a girl so young. She sought out my pussy without a moment’s hesitation, sucking at it through the soaked material of my underwear. Hooking her finger under the edge of the thong, she yanked it to one side, then fastened her sweet lips to my clit to suck for a few divine seconds. I cried out, already on the edge of release. But she immediately changed tactics, running her tongue down through my labia to the vaginal opening, then back to my clit.

I was positively gobsmacked. Hannah might’ve been a mere girl of twelve, but she seemed to instinctively know how to pleasure a woman. I’d had my share of female lovers while at university, but none of them went down on me with the enthusiasm that she brought to it.

Lifting her hand from my hip, she brought a finger into play, placing it at the entrance of my cunt to replace her tongue. With the briefest of glimpses up at me, she slid that finger inside with one steady stroke. That was enough to send all the sexual tension of the last twenty-four hours raging through me like an earthquake.

I came like an animal in heat. Hannah kept her lips locked to my clit as I bucked and gasped until the waves of ecstasy finally abated.

She crept her way back up my body and kissed me passionately, allowing me to taste my juices on her tongue and lips.

I was still overwhelmed with an intense hunger for my twelve-year-old lover, and she gave me a quizzical look as I put both hands on her waist and urged her to move further up the bed. “Trust me,” I breathed as I guided her into the position I wanted. Hannah inched her way forward, clearly wondering what I was up to, but as her knees came to rest on either side of my head, the penny seemed to drop, and she eagerly lowered her pussy to my mouth, her thighs brushing my ears.

I looked up, marvelling at this wondrous vision. Hannah’s school shirt was wide open, the tie still in place, that cute skirt still bunched around her waist as she offered her cunt to me. The sight fired my lust like never before, drove me to new heights of passion.

I pressed my mouth to Hannah’s slit in a lover’s kiss, thrusting my tongue deep into her and rolling it around. Determined to make her orgasm one for the record books, I used my thumb to tease the nub of Hannah’s clit while I went down on her. She responded just as I’d hoped, her head lolling back, lips parting for a moan to escape.

There was one more trick in my bag. With my left hand, I reached around to fondle my young lover’s pert, beautiful bottom. Finding the cleft between her buttocks, I trailed a finger through it, finally resting the tip against Hannah’s tight, puckered hole. I gently pressed my way inside, glancing up to see her eyes widen in surprise.

I continued to tongue-fuck her vagina, my right hand still working her clit as my middle finger entered Hannah’s rectum in one slow, steady stroke.

“Oh, God! Hannah cried. I’m – I’m…”

She didn’t finish that sentence. Instead, she reached down to clutch my head, her fingernails biting into me as she came. I’d never seen a lover so lost in ecstasy, before or since. It wasn’t enough to make me stop, though – I kept making love to Hannah until she gasped, “Stop, I c-can’t… no more, please!”

I withdrew, and she flopped sideways onto the bed, completely spent. We lay quietly for a few minutes, her arm draped across my body, our breathing taking a little time to return to normal.

Finally, Hannah propped herself up on one elbow and looked at me. “Wow,” she said.

“Wow indeed,” I replied, fanning myself.

“I could really do with some water,” she said. “You?”

I nodded; she rolled off the bed and onto her feet. She unzipped and removed her skirt, then pulled off her tie and shrugged the unbuttoned shirt from her shoulders to the floor. I studied her lithe young body as she padded from the room, completely naked apart from her ankle socks. Her flawless bottom moved gracefully, almost inviting me to follow. I was too wiped out to move, though.

She returned a couple of minutes later, a bottle of water in each hand. This time I was able to admire her from the front. Hannah’s delicately featured face, freckled and fresh, was still slightly flushed as she smiled at me.

My God, she was perfect. Those small but perfect breasts, still sporting erect nipples, her barely-there blonde pubes, which did nothing to conceal that beautiful pussy I’d just been intimate with. And those lithe, lovely legs… seriously, Hannah was a girl lover’s wet dream.

She joined me on the bed, and we slaked our thirst with the ice-cold water. Hannah pressed her bare body against mine as we cuddled, kissing my neck. I couldn’t have been happier.

After a few minutes, a thought I’d had earlier bounced back into my head.

“Hannah,” I asked, “how long until the end of term?”

“Four weeks,” she replied with a smile.

I smiled back. After all, we both knew that she would also have a lot of catching up to do after the summer holidays…

The End

Note from JetBoy: This is a new and extended version of a story posted here over a year ago. It got a mostly rapturous response, and deservedly so… though a goodly percentage of the readers openly wished for more, just as a fine meal sometimes leaves you wishing you’d had a larger portion. Well, author and Site Friend Jacqueline Jillinghoff elected to give her hungry public what it clamored for, and reworked her tale into this luscious expanded edition. Your Chief Editor was so delighted with the result that an executive decision was made to present this as a brand-new post, instead of simply swapping one version for another.
So don’t pass this one by, even if you’ve read it before. “Floor Show,” was well worth investigating the first time around, and it’s even better now.

by Jacqueline Jillinghoff

“Mom, this is Kimberly.”

“So this is Kimberly. It’s a pleasure to meet you at last.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” the little girl said, offering her fingers for a squeeze. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well.”

The words sounded rehearsed, but she played the part well, speaking distinctly and looking me in the eye. I half-expected her to curtsey, and when that didn’t happen, I said, “You don’t need to be so formal. Please call me Vickie.”

“Thank you … Vickie.”

I hadn’t liked being called ma’am — I’m only twenty-eight — but I wasn’t sure about “Vickie,” either. It created a strange imbalance. It wasn’t that she was being overly familiar. It was that, strangely, I felt I was the one who was being forward, putting myself on a first-name basis with such a beautiful little girl.

And it was eerie, how beautiful she was. Her face was too mature-looking, as though some mad scientist had grafted the head of a nineteen-year-old onto the body of a skinny fifth-grader. She had a wide mouth, a broad forehead, and deep-set brown eyes that bored into me from under a pair of long, dark brows. Her hair was short and thick, like a skirt around her neck, held in place by a white headband embossed with three lace blossoms.

I made myself glance away before she caught me staring.

“Billie’s told me a lot about you,” I said.

In fact, my daughter had spoken of nothing but her new friend for weeks. I’d heard all about how cool and smart Kimberly was, how she played piano and oboe and her mother sang opera and they’d lived all over and even in Europe for a year and on and on. She was my daughter’s first big-girl crush, and here she was, making a personal appearance in our home. Billie had made it clear, well in advance, that I was to treat her like royalty.

What I found, though, beyond the unsettling good looks, was an ordinary kid who didn’t have much to say. Her answers to my questions, like that first greeting, sounded like she’d memorized them, or repeated them so often that they no longer interested her, and they never went beyond a few words. I couldn’t make up my mind whether she was hostile, empty-headed, or just shy.

I asked her where she had lived in Europe.

Brussels, she said.

Did she like it?

It was okay.

Did she learn any French?

A little.

Does she play piano in recital?

Sometimes.

Has she joined the band at school?

Not yet. But her mom wanted her to.

Why the oboe?

Her dad used to play it.

There it was. Used to. Past tense. So her father was out of her life, like Billie’s. They had that in common, at least.

These girls were inseparable. Literally. Billie leaned into Kimberly all through dinner, reaching for her hand under the table and swinging her leg, seeking Kimberly’s stockinged foot with her own. Kimberly didn’t encourage her, but she didn’t pull away, either. She simply accepted the attention as her due.

When the dishes were done, and we were playing Scrabble on the living room floor, the girls sat shoulder to shoulder. I told them to spread out, so they couldn’t see each other’s tiles, but after only a few moments apart, they would knock together again, like rowboats moored at a dock.

We were already dressed for bed. Billie sat cross-legged in her brief yellow nightie, which rode up her thighs, revealing the stark white crotch of her panties. My daughter’s a cute, freckle-faced kid with a gap-toothed smile, pale blue eyes, and a bob of fine, wheat-colored hair. What makes her my darling, though, is her outgoing nature. She laughed and chattered as we played, making up silly words entirely out of consonants (No, sweetie, “flsznk” is not in the dictionary) before she played for real.

Kimberly hardly spoke. Every so often, the corners of her mouth would draw back into a kind of vacant grin at something Billie said, but they reset at once as she studied the board, her chin on her knees. She certainly looked like visiting royalty, crowned with her white-lace blossoms and draped in an Old-World gown of shimmering green that hid everything but her toes.

I remember thinking, My daughter is in love with this girl — but only as much as one little girl could be in love with another. It was an innocent infatuation, and apparently one-sided. The notion that it might be anything more would have to be forced on me.

The game broke up when Billie got a triple word score and fifty bonus points for “pissing,” and a hail of giggles broke out. Kimberly finally caught the bug, showing her teeth (perfect, of course) for the first time. She threw an arm around Billie’s shoulders and kissed her on the cheek — quickly, as though she was afraid I’d notice. Billie blushed to the ears, the brown freckles on her nose turning white, but she clasped Kimberly in both arms and returned the kiss.

“All right,” I said. “Time for bed. Billie’s the champ. I don’t think we’re going to catch her.”

Kimberly stood up, and it seemed the evening had truly come to an end when her toes disappeared beneath the gown.

“May I use your bathroom?” she asked.

“Of course you may.”

While she was off brushing and peeing, Billie and I put the game away and picked up the snack bowls and glasses. The girls had been drinking orange soda. I’d had some chilled pinot grigio. Maybe it was the wine, but the surge of affection for my daughter was genuine. I grabbed her impulsively and held her to my breasts.

“It’s so sweet, what you’re doing,” I said.

“What?”

“That poor girl doesn’t have any friends, does she?”

“She doesn’t talk to anybody.”

“Well, it’s wonderful you’re reaching out to her. You’re a special person, and I love you.”

“Mo-om!”

“Oh, stop. Let me kiss you.”

Billie and I live in a one-bedroom apartment, which is all I can afford at the moment. She sleeps on the fold-out in the living room, or with me when we’re too tired to pull out the bed. Tonight there was no discussion: Billie went straight for the sofa, tearing at the cushions with a will. She and her guest would share the convertible, and Mom would discreetly get lost.

Kimberly helped lay out the covers and arrange the pillows. Her regal bearing had returned, her moment of hilarity forgotten. She moved slowly, and sometimes, when she turned or leaned over, the contours of her thighs or her bottom rose briefly beneath the surface of her gown.

When I left them, they were lying on opposite sides of the bed, like twin effigies, with the sheets tight across their chests and their hands folded modestly over their hearts.

“Good night now,” I said.

I kissed Billie on the forehead and, still sorry for Kimberly, and worried she might be feeling left out, I circled the bed and kissed her, too. I expected her to pull away, or at least lie there passively, the way kids do when they’re subjected to unwanted attention. After all, I was a stranger who had no business tucking her in, but to my surprise, she shot up from the pillow and kissed me hard on the corner of the mouth, clutching the back of my neck. The move was so abrupt it felt desperate.

“Thank you for letting me stay over,” she said.

“Oh, honey, you’re welcome. We’re happy to have you.”

“’Night, Mom.”

“Good night, Vickie.”

“Sleep well, you two,” I said. “Don’t stay up too late talking.”

That last was a vain formality. The whole point of a sleepover is for little girls to laugh and gossip long after the lights go out, and I expected they’d keep me up for a while.

To say I wasn’t disappointed would be, well, an understatement.

The chatter began as soon as I lay down in my room. Billie’s voice came through strongly, though I couldn’t make out the words. Kimberly’s was no more than a sporadic murmur. Billie laughed out loud. There was a distinct shhh, followed by a rushed sentence that contained the words “your mom.” Kimberly whispered something, and I heard Billie say No! emphatically, and then, Really?

The whispers went on, punctuated with giggling and shushing, and each time I made out Kimberly’s voice, the image of her toes appeared to me in the dark. Ten pretty toes, peeping from beneath the green gown in a perfect curve, like pearls on a lace fan. Absently, I slipped a hand into my pajamas. And I saw the double cabochon of her ass, pressing up beneath the jade-colored satin. Ah.

My pajama bottoms had to come off, or they’d get soggy and stick to me all night. I unbuttoned my top, too, to give my nipples some standing room. Then I listened again for the hushed voices. They seemed fainter, but the words were clearer — words like please and how and want to — or maybe I was only imagining them, the way I imagined Kimberly’s sensuous mouth. Oh. And the joyous kiss she gave my daughter. Oh! And the imploring kiss she’d given me …

Fuck.

The orgasm balled me up tight, then ratcheted me down an inch at a time. It was a quiet one — it would have to be, under the circumstances — but I couldn’t remember the last time a climax had soaked so deeply into my bones. I lay there warm and weak, a puddle of post-masturbatory languor.

But once my head cleared, I had to wonder why. I had never come thinking of a girl so young. My fantasy women had always been age-appropriate. Something about this child, though — her stunning face, her sadness, or maybe just her pretty toes — had touched me. Unfortunate word choice, but there’s no other way to say it.

Of course, I could never betray my daughter. Kimberly was Billie’s special friend, not mine. Still, there was no harm in fantasy, was there? I could picture her a little longer while I tugged on my nipples and squeezed my clit between my fingers.

I was preoccupied, to say the least, and only gradually began to suspect something was off. I stopped teasing myself and listened in the dark. The girls were quiet enough in there — but that was just it. They were quiet. Were they asleep already? It hadn’t taken me that long to come. Billie had been so giddy when she went to bed, it was hard to believe she’d settled down so soon. Maybe Kimberly’s self-restraint was rubbing off on her.

I kept an ear out for any small sound, and finally I heard one — the sofa-bed creaked. Then nothing. Okay, I thought, they’ve called it a night. Now I wouldn’t have to work so hard to muffle my orgasms, and I was sure there’d be at least one more. With my pussy simmering under my fingers, it would be no time at all before —

“Huh!”

The cry came from the living room. It was Billie. She sounded hurt. Kimberly went shhhh, and Billie said something back. Now she sounded fine. Probably went to the kitchen and stubbed her toe on the way back. No use playing mother hen and embarrassing her, and besides, my pussy still needed attention. I circled my clit, raising a soft scratching sound from my pubes, and let out a contented sigh.

Except that I didn’t. The sigh wasn’t mine. It had come from the living room. My hand froze, and I tensed up, straining to listen. There it was again — it sounded like Kimberly. She hummed a little, too, as though she was sampling a yummy dessert.

The girls’ voices rose. They shushed each other and went on quietly. The bed squeaked again — not once, but repeatedly — and I distinctly heard Kimberly say, in a delirious stage whisper, “I like it!”

What did she like?

Shhh, Billie cautioned her, and the whispers stopped.

This wasn’t the silly bedtime chatter of two little girls. What it was, I couldn’t allow myself to guess.

The room spun as I stood up. I had to lean against the bedroom door to steady myself. I took a breath, waiting for the dizziness to pass, and buttoned my pajama top. The bottoms were somewhere, untraceable in the dark. It didn’t matter. Checking up on the girls would only take a second. They wouldn’t have enough time or enough light to notice my thatch.

The sofa-bed was in the middle of the living room, pointed toward the little balcony my landlord advertises as a life-enhancing amenity. The vertical blinds stood half open, and the distant lights from the parking lot and the buildings across the courtyard were just enough to see by.

I came up behind, looming over the girls’ heads, and looked down.

The covers were heaped at the far end of the bed. Beneath me, two dim figures huddled together with only a thin shadow between them. The larger figure was turned toward the smaller one, who lay on her back with her eyes shut and her dark lips thrust forward.

Details grew more distinct as I watched. I made out the round whiteness of the larger girl’s shoulder, and her outstretched arm, which ended where the smaller girl’s legs were parted. And at last, a spot of motion: the larger girl’s knuckles, flashing in a scalloped ridge one instant, dipping and vanishing the next, again and again and again.

To be blunt about it: the girls were naked, and Billie was jilling off her little friend.

I promised myself, when my daughter was born, I would not freak out over her sexual development the way my mother freaked out over mine. The woman threw me out of the house when I told her I was pregnant, and we haven’t spoken since. She’s never known what a joy her granddaughter is. I’m sure at some level I let myself get knocked up to prove to her I was straight. That backfired, of course. In one violent outburst, I graduated from suspected pervert to confirmed slut.

So I vowed, even before the epidural wore off, that I would be forthright and open with my little girl, and when the time came, I would reassure her that everyone who ever lived had the same feelings she had, and there was no reason to be ashamed about anything, ever. But I always figured it could wait, at least until she grew tits.

I should have put a stop to this. Even in the most progressive homes, little girls should not be fingering each other’s pussies. But the words died in my throat. We could talk about it later, but I couldn’t humiliate them right now. Besides, Kimberly was about to come — and so was I. My cunt was a wet sponge, sucking up my fingers.

I was frightened to death I would sigh or stumble or knock against the sofa, but fear only heightened the rush. The girls must have felt the same way, afraid they’d wake me up but too excited to stop, carried away by the risk and the awareness of how naughty they were being. We were all bad little girls, half-scared of getting caught, half wanting to be.

Billie bore down on Kimberly’s pussy, circling with her fingertips. Kimberly was sinking deep within herself. She breathed deeply, and long shadow-fingers spread through the gullies between her ribs, as though her chest was in the grip of two enormous black and skeletal hands. Her heels dug into the bed, lifting her bottom. Then all at once, the strength poured out of her. She let out a strangled cry, collapsed on the bed and, shaking all over, flipped onto her side, into Billie’s arms.

I came, too, almost falling over the back of the bed. I managed to pull back, unseen and unheard, and when I looked again, Kimberly had buried her face in Billie’s shoulder. At first, I thought she was crying, but it wasn’t crying. It was a prolonged whimper that spoke of the hunger to be loved.

“Was it nice?” Billie whispered.

Kimberly whined in the affirmative, and her lace-blossom crown bobbed in the dark. Billie cooed over her, stroking her back, holding her bottom. Kimberly crooked a knee between Billie’s legs, and Billie, accepting the invitation, began to grind against the slanted thigh.

She must have been close already, because it took only a few moments of concentrated humping before she was quaking and shuddering the way Kimberly had. But she didn’t whimper like Kimberly. My daughter came like a steam engine, with a chain of heavy puffs that ended in a drawn-out sigh. She was the dominant one here, owning her own pleasure, taking responsibility for her partner’s. My baby girl. I was proud of her, in a perverse way.

They were so into each other they never glanced up once. I was invisible to them, like an angel looking down from on high — an angel coming for the third time.

I stood watch as they fell asleep, nose to nose, holding hands beneath their chins. Before I left them, I sent forth a silent wish, which I’m sure they heard in their dreams, because they did just as their angel instructed.

They kissed goodnight.

On to Part Two!

Karin has already contributed several excellent stories to this site… and here’s a new delight for you to savor. Thanks, Karin, for the erotic treats. — JetBoy

by Karin Halle

In the wake of storms on the Great Lakes, the shores were regularly littered with debris, some of which could prove useful to beachcombers, especially those who otherwise had very little.

Thus it was that on the morning of Saturday, September 8, 1860, a fourteen-year-old girl left the cabin she called home after her mother had left for her job in the Illinois village of Port Clinton. Susannah Croft made her way to the shore of Lake Michigan to see if anything of value had washed up in the overnight gale. After the previous storm, she had retrieved a small timber crate that contained eight cans of lovely, delicious peaches.

Susannah knew she could not hope to be so lucky a second time, but in the innocence of her youth, she was still an optimist – the hardscrabble life she endured had not yet weighed upon her spirit as it had upon her mother, Harriet.

Harriet had not yet sent the girl out to find employment, allowing her instead to remain at home to cook and clean and sew. The woman had many good years ahead of her and wanted to spare her daughter for as long as possible. Besides, a few extra dollars would barely make any difference to their straitened circumstances.

Susannah clambered over the rocks, arriving at a stretch of clear shore covered by a fine grit. A large object, clearly not native to the spot, lay in the distance ahead of her. As she approached, she saw to her horror it was a human body – white as marble, and just as lifeless. She assumed it had been swept from a ship caught in the gale.

The victim was a girl who looked to be not too many years older than herself. She lay without a shred of clothing, fully exposed on her back, with her legs apart as though nature had determined that mere nakedness was not sufficient degradation. The head was tilted slightly to one side.

Susannah was distraught at the sight, but not afraid. She had seen death often, including her own father and brother, who had both passed on in their little home, her father from an accident and her brother as the result of an unidentified fever.

But how had the castaway come to be naked? Kneeling beside the body, Susannah removed her jacket and laid it discreetly across the girl’s hips – there was nothing she could do to preserve the modesty of the upper torso.

She closed her eyes and said aloud, “Almighty and merciful God, protect this poor soul and take her into Thy care.” She then clasped the ice-cold hand.

The slight movement caused water to spurt from the girl’s mouth, a common occurrence with drowning victims. Not so common was the little cough that followed. Then the eyes flickered open for a moment.

“Praise the Lord!” Susannah exclaimed. She attempted to help the scarcely living soul to her feet, but stopped when the injured girl cried out in pain.

“You must try to rise,” Susannah urged. “My home is not far.”

With great effort the girl managed to stand, though not without various pains that caused her to wince, moan, and even cry out. Laboriously, they made their way to the shack, where a fire would provide some sorely needed, comforting warmth.

With the girl seated on a stool before the hearth, Susannah fetched a blanket, but when she placed it across her shivering guest’s shoulders, the poor thing gasped with pain.

Fetching a lamp, Susannah looked closely at the girl’s back. One side, she observed, was scratched and torn from the shoulder to the haunches. Though the cuts were not deep, they were fire-red and angry-looking.

“Oh, you poor dear,” Susannah murmured. “That is very dirty, and needs to be washed. I shall apply some salve that Mother has, which may ease your suffering a little.”

She fetched warm water and the softest piece of cloth she could find, and gently cleaned the gashes.

The girl twitched repeatedly as Susannah bathed her wounds, but made no complaint. Susannah next applied the salve, with strokes as gentle as she could make them, and the girl hardly winced at all.

As she tended to the patient, Susannah introduced herself, asked the girl her name, and enquired as to what had happened.

“My name? I cannot seem to recall,” the girl said uncertainly. “All I remember is … rushing water, then I was lifted up and flung, and I was knocked against something, and then I was overboard and in the water … it was rough and the waves were fierce and I was very much afraid. And then … that is all that I can remember.”

“And before that – before you were on the ship?” Susannah prompted.

With a gasp of dread, the girl whispered, “I can’t remember … I remember nothing. Nothing at all!”

Though horrified, Susannah sensed it was important to keep her patient in the best possible spirits.

“You have been spared by the grace of God Almighty,” she said, “so I shall call you Grace until your memory returns.”

Only when her mother returned from the village at suppertime did Susannah and Grace garner any news.

“The Lady Elgin was lost in the storm,” Harriet informed them. “She must have been one of the passengers.”

“The Lady Elgin,” Susannah repeated to Grace. “The Lady Elgin – does the name have any meaning for you?”

“None. None at all,” Grace said sadly.

“A great many lives were lost in the tragedy,” Harriet went on. “The remains of the poor souls who were taken are everywhere. It will take time to identify them all. Meanwhile, child, you shall stay with us. Susannah, run to the village and fetch Doctor FitzHerbert at once.”

“I am very appreciative, Mistress Croft,” Grace protested. “But I cannot repay the kindness of you and your daughter. And I have nothing at all with which to pay a doctor.”

“You are no trouble to us, child,” Harriet assured her. “And Doctor FitzHerbert – well, he shall take one of Susannah’s excellent broths in settlement of his fee, and will be quite glad of it.”

Harriet spoke truly. The doctor, excited by news that the wreck had yielded another survivor, arrived at the shack within the hour. He was astonished at the girl’s condition, for, upon examination, he concluded Grace might have a broken rib but, with the exception of the savage scrapes on her back, she was otherwise uninjured. He noted that he could find no injury to Grace’s head that would explain her memory loss.

“The loss of memory might be merely the result of shock,” he said. “Or, as she was half-drowned, her brain might have suffered from a lack of air, causing the memory loss.”

“Will her memories return?” Susannah asked.

“Perhaps they will, in time,” the doctor mused. “Or possibly only some. Perhaps not at all. These things we do not know, cannot know – only God in His glory knows the human mind.”

He turned to Grace.

“Nevertheless, you are most fortunate, young miss,” he said. “I would call your survival a miracle. Many have been washed ashore on the tides, and few are still living. Most of the bodies were quite badly disfigured, and I suspect that a great number will defy all efforts to identify their remains.”

After dining, the doctor thanked Harriet for her hospitality and Susannah for her hearty broth, then took his leave.

Harriet told Susannah to defer clearing the dishes until the morning. “I think our poor visitor needs to sleep now,” she said.

Harriet had a room to herself, and Susannah would share her little bed with Grace. She offered her spare nightshirt to her guest, but Grace insisted she would sleep without covering, lest the material irritate her wounds.

Susannah thought nothing of it. She and her mother had spent many a restless summer night lying atop their bedclothes, spread-eagle and in a wholly natural state, yearning for a breath of wind from the lake. Yet her heart went out to this wretched creature, who feared even the slightest touch against her ravaged skin. In an instant, Susannah resolved to show her sympathy by sharing Grace’s burden. She, too, would sleep naked.

Grace watched in silence as her hostess disrobed. Then the girls climbed into bed together and cuddled closely, spooning to keep warm as there was no fire in the little bedroom.

“The touch of your flesh against me is soothing,” Grace purred, “and warm.”

They drifted to sleep, and did not wake until late the next morning, long after Harriet had left for Port Clinton.

“How do you feel this morning?” Susannah enquired. She was still spooned against Grace’s back, but not too tightly, as she had been the night before.

“There is less pain,” was Grace’s reply, “thanks to your care, and your mother’s salve.”

“Let’s get up and I shall apply some more,” Susannah suggested.

“Presently,” Grace replied.

She reached behind her with one hand and, following a short, groping search, found a spot her rescuer had always regarded as inviolable.

Susannah gasped in shock. “What are you doing?”

“Please let me,” Grace said. She turned carefully in the bed, so that they now faced one another. “I shall be as gentle with you as you have been with me!”

As a country girl, Susannah knew of the regenerative nature of the loins, and the urges they were said to produce in animals. But as a human being, blessed with the knowledge of right and wrong, she believed in her heart she would never succumb to base instinct. Yet this new sensation took her by surprise. It was immoral, she knew, yet the feeling was wonderful. She tingled all over, but she tingled most where Grace was touching her.

One spot in particular made her tremble each time Grace’s fingers moved across it. There was moisture too, which Grace spread liberally, as though slathering a goose with butter. Without even intending it, Susannah parted her legs. She longed for more of Grace’s ministrations, even if she was unwilling to admit it to herself.

Grace’s finger burrowed between the fleshy parts of her privates, to the very edge of her most sacred recess. Susannah felt herself challenged – she wondered how that finger would feel placed inside her, but also knew she must remain intact for her future husband, whoever he might be, on their first night together.

She could not decide which impulse to follow, but Grace’s actions made the decision for her. With her finger poised at Susannah’s entrance, she flicked her thumb against that luscious spot whose acquaintance Susannah had made only moments ago.

“Oh yes!” Susannah sighed. The words were out before she knew it, and Grace, thus encouraged, slid her finger forward – inside Susannah’s very body! Only a little way, to be sure, not even past the barrier, but soon …

Grace’s thumb continued to arouse Susannah, to the point at which she no longer cared about some unknown future husband, should there even be one.

“Oh yes!” she gasped again. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

She felt the tension against her maidenhead, then the release. Grace’s finger was inside her now – completely.

Susannah had just enough time to think, I am now a woman! before a new sensation, more powerful than any she had ever experienced, began to build up inside her – and not just at the point where Grace’s finger was performing the proper office of a cock, but through her entire being.

The feeling continued to build, then reached its peak and crashed over her senses like a wave upon a rock. Susannah was aware of nothing but the ecstasy of being a woman. Every part of her clenched, then suddenly relaxed as the release surged through her.

A voice in her head cried out, “Oh sweet Jesus!” and her mouth echoed the words.

Her whole body shuddered as she gradually became aware of Grace’s finger plunging into her, and the thumb circling that magical spot, and Grace whispering, “Oh, you beautiful girl. Come for me, and keep coming!”

The overwhelming sensation was building up again, and Susannah silently prayed for its arrival.

This second time was even better than the first, because Susannah knew what was happening, and what she would experience when the climax arrived. She went rigid. She went limp. She cried out. She sobbed with joy.

“In the name of heaven, what are you doing to me?” she wailed.

“I’m fucking you,” Grace said simply. “It is God’s secret gift to women, but only for those who seek it out. Do you like me to fuck you?”

“Like it?” Susannah moaned through her sobs. “I adore it! It’s the most unbelievable … the most …”

It happened again – not as intense this time, but it lasted longer. Susannah wondered if she might faint, but she was determined not to allow herself – there was no way on God’s earth she was going to miss even a second of this rapture.

She was still crying uncontrollably as Grace rolled gingerly onto her back, wincing and gasping as she did so.

“Darling Susannah, do you think you can do those things to me?”

“Oh yes! Let me, please let me! Please?”

“Yes, but be gentle. I am very sore.”

Susannah Croft was gentle. The only thing that mattered was to return the ecstasy Grace had bestowed upon her. Her forsaken maidenhead was no longer a concern – a husband, and men generally, were no longer important. Even the duty to bear children was meaningless. Susannah Croft knew that, from this moment forward, the only thing she cared about was Grace – the shipwreck survivor she had not even known a mere day earlier.

Susannah idly thought of her mother – would she disapprove? She realized she didn’t care too greatly about that, either.

Their lips pressed together lightly for a moment. Instinctively, Susannah opened her mouth, and Grace’s lively tongue entered. This was kissing of a kind Susannah had never known, and she sucked the writhing muscle in encouragement. She also tasted the wetness that was trickling forth, and she knew that it was good.

As they kissed, Susannah’s hand found Grace’s breast and rested lightly upon it. It was fuller than her own, and elegantly shaped – the most perfect thing of all God’s creation. Its twin was equally perfect. Susannah had to kiss those emblems of womanhood.

Then, suddenly, she needed to see Grace’s most private place. Nudity was nothing new to her, but never had she been so close to another female, nor closely inspected those parts that made a woman. As she shifted position, Grace spread her legs wide.

Little folds of pink flesh, like lips, opened beneath Susannah’s gaze. She put her thumbs to them and peeled them back to see inside. Here she found a darker pink, with a sheen of clear moisture. (It must be part of loving, Susannah decided.) An indentation led deeper inside, beneath the tiny protrusion which she now knew gave so much pleasure. This work of God that lay between a woman’s legs outshone all others!

Acting solely on instinct, she put her lips to those beautiful parts and kissed Grace there. Grace’s deep sigh was her reward. Wanting to taste those parts, and that fluid – the nectar of love – she bore down harder and kissed more deeply.

Grace’s fruit was even sweeter, juicier, than the canned peaches Susannah had retrieved after the previous storm.

“Should I put my finger in you?” Susannah asked,

“Oh, yes, my love. And fuck me!”

“I shall … fuck you,” Susannah declared. If her mother heard her use such a word, she knew, her mouth would be washed out with soap.

She carefully inserted a single finger into Grace’s hole – and was amazed by the warmth and the texture. She began, gently, to pump her finger in and out, as she knew males did it with their manhood.

“Use two fingers!” Grace panted.

Two? Susannah wondered. Was that even possible? Would they fit? Yet surely Grace knew her own capacity, and the passage to her womb felt slippery and pliable enough.

Cautiously, Susannah slipped her fourth finger alongside the third, and she knew at once her fears had been unwarranted. Grace easily took both deep inside her, grasping them tight with her inner muscles. Susannah began to pump with her hand.

Then she remembered the thing Grace had done to her. With the thumb of the same hand, she burrowed between Grace’s slick pink folds, massaging the little bulb.

Grace twitched and gasped, “Oh, yes! You are learning!”

Susannah pressed down on the bulb, which seemed to respond by swelling against her thumb. Twisting her hand, she was soon able to pump with her two middle fingers, simultaneously squeezing the growing bud between thumb and forefinger.

“Ah, you are an enchantress!” Grace gasped, and she began to tremble.

As Susannah watched in disbelief, Grace experienced the same joy that she had dispensed only a few minutes before. Presently she reached up to pull Susannah down towards her, and kissed her again.

The taste of Grace’s mouth itself became sufficient reason for living. Timidly Susannah pushed her tongue forward. Now it was Grace’s turn to suck, and she made a soft humming sound as she did so – obviously one of approbation.

They kissed thus heedlessly awhile, but soon Susannah needed to explore Grace’s body, and to touch all of the firm but yielding flesh. She found herself delighting in playing with Grace’s breasts one again, discovering the dimple in her belly, and inspecting the bud that peeped from the pink folds between her legs. She would never lose her astonishment that something so tiny could afford such enormous pleasures.

Presently, she remembered something and told Grace to turn over. She wanted to apply lotion to Grace’s poor torn back, but before she could do so, she was entranced by the plump round globes of her bottom. She knew, of course, what lay between those globes, but still was compelled to look. Parted Grace’s flesh, and beheld the most delicate flower ever.

Dragging her attention back to the loathsome cuts and scrapes on Grace’s back, she put a little ointment onto the tips of her fingers and spread it over the wounds. Three times Grace hissed in pain, and three times Susannah apologized, but each time Grace told her that she knew Susannah would never intentionally hurt her.

Only in the middle of the afternoon did they finally leave the bed. After attending to the call of nature, they ate a little, although neither was very hungry.

As evening approached, Susannah donned a nightdress – she was fearful of her mother’s reaction if she were to find her entirely bare in the presence of a guest, and for no apparent reason. Indeed, when Harriet returned, she wondered at Susannah’s night attire. “Why in the world are you not dressed?’ she asked.

“Grace cannot bear the touch of cloth on her wounds, and I thought she would feel less shame for her nakedness if I too was naked. I have put this on only because you were due home.”

Harriet smiled, with a most peculiar expression on her face. “I saw you two in bed before I left this morning. You will recall that you were both unclad.”

Susannah’s face registered shock, but Harriet was not offended. She was not even perturbed.

“You looked so pretty together,” she said with a melodic lilt, “that way.”

“You are not angry?” Susannah whispered in disbelief.

“The only anger I feel is that you have not attended to your chores,” Harriet told her. “What do you imagine we shall have to eat tonight?”

Susannah hurried to prepare a meal for them all, assuring them that it would soon be ready.

“I have more news of the disaster on the lake,” Harriet announced over their meal. “It seems that the Lady Elgin was rammed by another vessel in the storm, and she quickly broke apart. Many bodies have washed ashore all along the coast, but there are more survivors in addition to Grace, thank the Lord.”

She paused as both girls whispered words of relief, then went on.

“It is unknown how many were aboard, nor how many have survived. And most passengers bought tickets without booking, so it is not known who might have been aboard.”

With that news, conversation came to a halt. With Grace’s assistance, Susannah set about clearing the table and washing the bowls, while Harriet took her ease.

When it came time for bed, Harriet wished them both goodnight. Then, to Susannah’s utter astonishment, she said, “Should you girls wish to play games with each other tonight, please do not make too much noise. I need my sleep, as I must work tomorrow, and in any case, I have no wish to hear such things.”

Turning, she went to her room. She left Susannah gaping after her.

The youngsters slept during the night, partly out of consideration for Harriet, but mainly out of embarrassment lest the adult overhear them. And provided that Susannah attended to her chores the following day, they could devote many hours to loving each other.

Although they woke at a reasonable time, Harriet had already left for her employment. Susannah performed her chores and treated Grace’s injuries. Then they partook of a midday meal.

The afternoon was spent in Susannah’s bed, before Susannah dressed in preparation for her mother’s return. Grace donned Susannah’s nightdress. She had been naked since her rescue and, although her wounds were still tender and were irritated by the cloth, she wanted Harriet to find her covered when she returned.

The evening meal was ready at the customary time, and Harriet thanked both girls for not overlooking the daily housework. As they relaxed after their meal, Susannah broached the subject that had been uppermost on her mind.

“Mother, what will become of Grace when she is well?”

“I do not know,” Harriet admitted. “Unless she can recall her name, or something about herself, it will be nearly impossible for her to contact her kinfolk.” She didn’t add the words, “If she still has any kin alive.”

“Might she stay with us, Mother?”

“As soon as I am able, I shall find a way to earn my keep,” Grace added, “should I be permitted to stay, that is. And I can teach Susannah her letters, so she will be able to read and write … and I can teach her to work numbers, too! Then she might be able to secure a good position.”

“I know my numbers,” Susannah insisted indignantly. “I can count. I am fourteen,” she added proudly.

“You need more than that, dear,” Harriet told her. “I can count, too, and I am thirty-seven. But there is much more. You must be able to work numbers – to make them work for you. You need to know how to add and take away, and be able to do times.”

The notion that Susannah could learn these things caused Harriet to dream. Although she did not possess such skills, she still had a good situation at a local manufactory. Yet she wanted more for her daughter than mere subsistence. The world of the future would leave the ignorant behind, and schools were being established in many small communities – even Port Clinton would someday have a school. And schools would need teachers …

“And you do not want Grace to leave, do you, child?”

“No, mother – I love her.”

Susannah had not intended to say that, but she could not take the words back.

A bleak look flashed across Harriet’s face. Susannah blushed with shame and hung her head.

“I’m sorry, mother, but it’s true. And I am certain that you know what I mean.”

Nodding slowly, Harriet turned to Grace. “And you? What do you say about that?”

“Only that I love Susannah – truly love her. And I want very much to be with her. And I also very much desire your acceptance.” She couldn’t gauge Harriet’s thoughts from her expression, so she went on. “I understand that such things are … unconventional, and are indeed disapproved of by many.”

Harriet, still silent, nodded.

“But I sense that you do not feel that way,” Grace continued. “Although you may not approve, you have in the last few days indicated that you can accept the feelings that Susannah and I have for each other. I believe too that you know the depth of those feelings, and that they are genuine.”

Speaking evenly, Harriet said, “I am convinced that Susannah loves you, but she is young and innocent, and may not have the wisdom yet to understand her desires.”

Susannah made to say something, but Harriet held up her hand. The girl knew better than to interrupt.

“And you, Grace – we don’t know your age, but I think that you are not too much older than Susannah. How well you know yourself and your feelings, none of us can tell.”

Harriet paused and Grace spoke up.

“I recall nothing of my past life, but I know that my affections are for those of my own sex. And I know how dearly I love Susannah.”

“Perhaps your past will come back to you, at which time many things might change,” Harriet said. “But I think that until that might happen, you should stay, at least for the time being.”

“Oh, Mother, thank you!” Susannah leapt to her feet and hugged Harriet, repeating the words, ‘thank you’.

Harriet looked over her daughter’s shoulder at Grace.

“I am most grateful for your hospitality and your consideration of my plight, and for your tolerance,” Grace said.

On to Chapter Two!

by BlueJean

Eliza…

Calm, Isabel. Be at peace.

Where is my sweet child?

Long departed, sister. Long departed. Let me soothe you.

You lie, Astris! Always you lie. She is near. She calls for her mama.

Hush, Isabel. That one is not your child.

She is mine!

No. She belongs to another. You must not harm her.

Liar! For long and long have you kept me anchored to this tree! But your power wanes, Astris. I can feel you fading, yet my reach grows further each day.

Do not fight me, Isabel. I am not your enemy.

Enough! Your kind knows nothing of motherhood… Eliza, my sweet, Mama is coming for you…

***

Mum says all honey is unique. It tastes different depending on where it comes from and what kind of nectar the bees collect. Newton honey is made from wildflower nectar and has a special flavour.

It took us nearly a whole day to harvest the second batch of honey and put it into jars. Some of it would go to the post office so Mrs. Jeffries could sell it for us, and the rest Mum would sell online, along with beeswax, royal jelly and something called propolis, which looks like bee poo but is actually a mix of saliva and beeswax that the bees use to seal up small holes in the hives. Mum says it’s an ingredient in some kind of varnish people use for musical instruments.

When we’d finished bottling the honey, Millie went outside to play with Bee, while me and Mum cleaned up. As I washed the storage buckets in the sink, I could see my sister through the kitchen window, standing in the garden with her back to me. She looked like she was shaking or something. Bee was sitting close by, poking her with a paw.

“What’s that girl doing now?” I mumbled.

“Hmm?” Mum stacked the last of the honey into boxes and then wandered over to peer out the window. “Let’s go see what’s happened.”

We hurried outside to find Millie cupping a little yellow bundle of feathers, tears streaming down her face. “He’s… he’s dead, Mummy! Nigel’s d-dead!” she sobbed, barely able to get the words out.

Mum knelt down and put her arms around my sister. “Oh, Millie. I’m so sorry.”

“Did Bee do it?” I asked, but Millie was crying so much she could only shake her head.

“I think it may have been a bird of prey,” Mum told me as she held my sister’s hand.

“It’s not fair! He spent his whole life in a cage and then… and then when he was finally free, something k-killed him!” Millie wailed.

Mum wiped away my sister’s tears and kissed her on the head. “Sometimes nature can be cruel, Millie. Your little bird didn’t understand about all the dangers out there in the world. He didn’t have anyone to teach him when he was young.”

“I hate nature, then!” Millie sobbed. “I’ll go live in the big tree where no one can hurt me or make me cry anymore!”

I stroked my sister’s back. “Don’t say that, Millie.” Hearing her talk like that made me feel scared. She could be a bit annoying sometimes but I didn’t want her to disappear inside a tree.

Mum managed to persuade Millie to part with Nigel so she could put him into a big matchbox. “We could have a funeral for him. Would you like that?” she asked my sister.

Millie gave a sad nod. “We should invite Miss Laine.”

“Oh. Well, Sadie didn’t really know your canary, sweetie.”

“I want her to come, though,” Millie insisted.

“All right, I’ll ask her.”

“And Mr. Dalliard, too.”

“We probably shouldn’t bother Mr. Dalliard.”

My sister turned to me. “He’d be quite upset if we didn’t invite him, wouldn’t he Freya?”

I didn’t think Mr. Dalliard would be too bothered really, but I knew Millie would start crying again if I didn’t agree with her. “Uh, yeah. I guess.”

So, the next day we held a little service for Nigel in the garden.

Mr. Dalliard turned up wearing his WW2 beret and all his medals attached to his smart blazer. He used a walking stick to get around, which I’d never seen him do before. I hadn’t really believed him when he said he was the oldest person in the world, but he definitely looked older lately. Old and tired.

“Oh, Mr. Dalliard, you didn’t need to go to all that effort,” Mum told him as she fetched him a chair.

“Weren’t no bother, really,” Mr. Dalliard said and gave my sister’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “‘Ow ya ‘oldin’ up, littlun?”

Millie did a big sigh. “I’m okay, thanks.”

Miss Laine knelt down and took my sister’s hand. “I’m very sorry for your loss, Millie.”

Millie looked a bit confused. “Pardon?”

“I’m very sorry for your loss. That’s what you say to people when they lose someone special.”

“I didn’t lose him, Miss Laine. A nasty bird pecked him to death.”

“Oh. yes, I didn’t mean you’d actually lost him. Pecked to death, though, that’s… that’s horrible… poor thing.”

“Terrible way to go,” Mr. Dalliard agreed.

Mum put the big matchbox down on the ground next to a hole that we’d dug in the rose bed, then cleared her throat. “So, we’re gathered here today to pay our respects to… um… sorry, what was his name?”

“Nigel,” Millie said with a frown.

“To Nigel, who was Millie’s beloved canary, and whose life was cut tragically short.” Mum paused and then continued. “It’s always hard when a friend dies, isn’t it? Really hard. And sad. Really, really sad. So… yeah… Ashes to ashes, dust to dust…” She trailed off awkwardly. Mum wasn’t very good at this kind of thing, not really.

Miss Laine stepped forward. “If it wasn’t for Millie, that poor little bird would have spent his whole life in a cage on Mrs. Jeffries’ shop counter, which is no life for anyone. But Millie saved him, and thanks to her, for the first time in his life he discovered the freedom of the skies. Isn’t that amazing?”

“But a bird got him and pecked him to death,” Millie pointed out.

“And then he got pecked to death. Which is not ideal,” Miss Laine concluded.

“Terrible,” Mr. Dalliard added.

“Yes… thank you, Sadie,” Mum said. “Would you like to say some words, Millie?”

Millie took a big breath. “Well, I just wanted to set Nigel free because it’s really sad to see a bird in a cage and there’s no point having wings if you can’t use them to fly and it’s like having… it’s like… having legs but not being able to run. Well, you can have a wheelchair to get around, actually, but it’s better to be able to run… and birds don’t have wheelchairs anyway. So he was really happy to fly for the first time and he was definitely happy because he used to fly around and go, ‘tweet tweet tweet!’ and so that’s how I know he was happy, but then a big bird swooped down and pecked him to death and the big bird didn’t even eat him, so it probably just pecked him to death for fun, which is really mean, and I hope an even bigger bird swoops down and pecks the big bird to death too, so it knows how it feels to be pecked to death.”

We all stared at Millie, unsure what to say after a speech like that.

“I’ve finished now,” my sister informed us and sniffed.

“That was lovely, Millie,” Miss Laine said and put her arm around my sister.

“Aye, a fine speech,” Mr. Dalliard agreed.

“Would you like to say something, Freya?” Mum asked me.

“No thanks,” I replied, but Millie gave me the stare of death. “Um, just that, I’m glad he found some happiness with us, really.”

Millie clearly wasn’t satisfied with that, though.

“And… we didn’t have to pay much for him? So that was good,” I offered.

“Will Mrs. Jeffries give us our money back, Mummy?” Millie asked.

“Oh, I think that ship’s sailed, sweetie,” Mum told her.

“Always keep the receipt,” Mr. Dalliard said, helpfully.

Mum spoke again. “Well. Unless anybody else would like to say something, I think we should lower Neville—”

“Nigel!”

“Uh, I think we should lower Nigel into the grave. Girls, would you do the honours?”

It felt a bit silly, putting a matchbox into the flowerbed with Millie. One person could have done it easily but it was important that I was there for my sister on this terrible day. So we took a side each and lowered the little coffin into the ground and then covered it over with soil. I hoped Bee didn’t dig it up and eat what was left of Nigel. Millie took a cross she had made out of lollipop sticks and stuck it in the little grave.

Mr. Dalliard sang an old war song about fallen comrades, which was a little bit embarrassing, but it was a nice thing to do, I suppose.

Miss Laine had a bunch of flowers in her hands but she just picked a single flower to put on Nigel’s grave, leaving me wondering why she didn’t leave them all.

After we’d eaten some sandwiches and had a glass of lemonade, Mr. Dalliard got up to head home. Mum tried to persuade him to accept a lift in the car but Mr. Dalliard insisted he would keep walking as much as he could while he was still able. Before leaving, he went over to have a chat with Miss Laine. They were speaking really quietly and kept looking over at me and Millie. I wondered what they were talking about.

Miss Laine told us she needed to visit someone and would be back soon. As Mum and Millie took the plates and glasses inside to wash them up, I watched my teacher moving along the dirt track on the other side of the poppy field, heading toward the forest. I didn’t have a clue who she might be visiting – there weren’t any other houses in that direction for miles, and anyway, wouldn’t it have been quicker to take her car?

I decided to follow her. “Mum, I’m just going up to the post office to buy some sweets,” I shouted through the kitchen window.

“Okay, but take Millie and Bee with you,” Mum called back.

“I move quicker alone…” I replied in a really cool voice, then set off, taking a shortcut through the poppy field in pursuit of my elusive quarry.

***

“Freya! I said take – Oh, that girl!” I exclaimed as my wayward daughter ran off through the poppy field.

“I don’t want to go to the post office anyway, Mummy – I’m in mourning,” Millie declared.

“Oh, my baby’s in mourning!” I said dramatically and picked her up, peppering her face with kisses.

Millie tried her best not to smile, so I trailed more kisses down her neck. Finally her resolve broke, and she burst out laughing.

“Oh my goodness! Our little mourner is having a giggling fit!” I gasped, attacking her with more kisses.

“You made me!” Millie squealed.

She started to slip down my body, so I cupped her bum and hoofed her up. “You’re getting big,” I told her.

“You’re big!”

“You are!”

“No, you are!”

“You!”

“You!”

She rested her head in the crook of my neck and we laughed together. We stayed like that for a spell – me cradling my younger daughter, rocking her gently from side to side, just as I’d done when she was a babe.

“Why do things have to die, Mummy?” Millie asked me softly.

I wasn’t sure how to answer a question like that. Children seem to think their parents have a unique understanding of how the universe works. I tried my best to answer truthfully. “It’s all part of a big cycle, I suppose. Old things pass away and new things take their place.”

“Nigel wasn’t old, though.”

“Some things go before their time, Pixie. I’m not sure why.”

“Daddy wasn’t old either, was he?”

“No. No, he wasn’t.”

“At least he wasn’t pecked to death,” Millie offered.

Being pecked to death was probably preferable to slowly dying of cancer in a hospice bed, but my little girl didn’t need to know that.

“Let’s move over to the couch before you break my back.” I carried her into the lounge where the french doors were slung back to suffuse the room in a hazy afternoon light. I stroked her bum as she sat in my lap.

Millie began caressing my collar bone with her fingertips. She glanced up at me with an impish grin. “Does that tickle?”

“Not really,” I replied. “It feels nice, though.”

“Shall we do a dare?” Millie asked.

“What kind of dare?”

“I’ll let you put your hand up my skirt if you let me touch your boobies.”

My heart fluttered in my chest. “I’m not sure that’s a dare,” I told her.

“It is, because I might say no or you might say no.”

“I probably won’t say no. Will you?”

Millie giggled and shook her head. “No.”

“I don’t think it’s a dare, then.”

She thought about that for a second. “Okay, but shall we do it anyway?”

Gently does it, I told myself. Let’s see where this is going. “Go on, then. Undo the buttons on my shirt.”

“‘Kay. You can put your hand up my skirt while I’m doing that.”

I moved my hand down onto her bare legs and then back up underneath her skirt, caressing my daughter’s podgy bottom through her panties.

Millie, meanwhile, unhooked the buttons on my linen shirt, down and down until it hung open slightly, teasing the swell of my cleavage.

“Shall I touch them now?” she asked me.

I smiled and nodded to her. “Pull my shirt open first, so you can see what you’re doing.”

She tugged the halves of my shirt apart, gave me a big grin, then asked, “Mummy, why don’t you wear a bra much?”

“Bras are for city girls. Country girls like to hang free,” I told her with a wry smile.

I stroked and squeezed her bum as she explored my breasts, and soon the familiar glow of arousal smouldered between my legs.

I wanted to experiment with my youngest daughter, I realised, just as I’d done with Freya. But Millie was only seven and I wasn’t sure how far I should take things with her, so I was content to let her initiate and lead this sexy little game, wherever she might choose to take it.

“How does that feel?” I asked as she sat on my lap kneading my tits, occasionally rolling my nipples between her fingers.

“Do you mean me feeling your boobies, or you feeling my bottom?”

“Well… both, I suppose.”

“Oh, it’s quite nice. Your boobies are all squidgy!”

“So’s your bum!” I said and gave her arse a playful pinch.

“Ahhh!” Millie squealed and wriggled about on my lap. She looked me in the eye, then that impish smile was back. “Mummy, I know some other things we could do, but if they’re too rude, do you promise not to tell me off?”

Hearing my little girl say that sent a surge of lust through me that quickly centred in my pussy. How rude could a seven-year-old be? I’d seen her going down on her big sister, and that left me wondering what it would feel like to have a little girl licking my cunt.

I gave her a serious look. “I promise not to tell you off, but whatever we do has to be our secret, okay?”

She gave me a big exaggerated nod. “It’s okay, I won’t tell.”

“What would you like to do, then?”

“So… I could suck your boobies… you know, like a baby,” Millie suggested.

I nearly moaned out loud. “I don’t mind if you do that, but you have to think of something I could do to you, too,” I told her, playing along with her childish erotic game.

Millie thought for a moment. “Um… okay, I’ll let you touch the front of my panties instead of the back.”

God, yes. “That works for me,” I said and slid my hand round to place it on my child’s panty-covered mound, stroking her there.

Millie latched onto my nipple and suckled like a newborn. I wondered if some part of her subconscious remembered feeding from me, reawakening some dormant instinct.

“That’s nice,” I told her and stroked her hair with my free hand. I traced the crease of her pussy lips, feeling the warmth of it through her knickers.

Millie released my breast with a pop. “How long shall we do this for?” She asked me, her breath warm against my moist nipple.

“However long you want,” I told her.

“No, you have to say. Then when we’re done, I’ll think of something even ruder we can do, okay?”

I found myself wondering what naughty ideas my little girl might conjure up next. “All right, then. How about… five minutes?” I suggested.

“Okey-dokey!” Millie chirped, then proceeded to nurse at my other tit as I fondled her between the legs.

Occasionally checking my watch, I let my little girl suckle from me until our five minutes had expired. I took my hand from under her skirt and lightly tapped her shoulder. “Time’s up, imp.”

“Oh, that went quick, didn’t it?” Millie said matter-of-factly.

“It sure did. So what’s next?” I said, giving her a little nudge of encouragement.

“Now you have to close your eyes,” she told me.

“Ah, this is where you steal all my valuables and run away, isn’t it?” I joked.

Millie laughed. “No, I won’t do that, I promise. But don’t open them until I say, okay?”

“All right, I’m trusting you.” Closing my eyes, I felt the weight of her vanish from my lap as she climbed off me.

I could hear the rustling of clothes and her little huffs and puffs as she went about doing whatever it was she was doing. “You can open your eyes now,” she said.

I snapped open my eyes to find my little girl on the couch, standing astride my legs, her pantied crotch mere inches from my face. She’d tucked the hem of her pink skirt into its waistband, and had pulled her matching panties right up so the material stretched over her vulva like a second skin.

“Look, you can see my kitty through my knickers!” Millie told me, just in case it wasn’t obvious.

I stared between my daughter’s legs. “I certainly can.”

“I’ll actually let you kiss it, if you want.”

My pussy ached and throbbed. I needed a hand inside my panties – I just wasn’t sure whose hand. “That’s very daring of you,” I told her.

“Yeah, I am quite daring, to be honest. More than Freya,” Millie boasted.

“So… I should kiss it?” I asked her, gently steering us back on track.

“Mm-hmm,” Millie hummed at me with a nod.

I planted my lips on her mound and kissed my daughter through her panties. She giggled, twitching away for an instant, but then pushing her crotch into my face for more. I made contact again – longer this time, gently sucking on her pussy lips as she pressed her hips forward, almost humping my face.

After a while, I gazed up at her. “Enough?”

Millie shook her head. “No… but wait. Close your eyes again, Mummy.”

I shut my eyes and smiled, wondering what I would open them to this time.

More rustling of clothing and a soft jingly laugh. Whatever she was doing, she was certainly enjoying herself.

“And you definitely won’t tell me off?” Millie asked me.

“I definitely won’t,” I reassured her.

“Almost… okay, almost ready. You can kiss it again, but keep your eyes closed until I say.”

“All right, then.”

She drew my head towards her, guiding me between her legs, and quite unexpectedly, it wasn’t her panties that brushed against my lips but the silky smooth skin of a little girl.

Millie giggled. “Now you can open your eyes, Mummy.”

Her panties were gone. So was her skirt. My daughter stood over me in just her t-shirt and cute little pink socks. Her puffy mound was hairless and blemish free, a rose bulb not yet ready to burst into flower. I’d seen my seven-year-old naked many times, of course, but now I viewed her through a lens of sexual attraction.

“I made you kiss my kitty!” a pleased Millie gasped.

“You did,” I told her. “And now… now I’m going to kiss it again.”

I put my mouth over her mons and gently sucked, sampling her flavour. She tasted incredible – sweet; tart, the forbidden spice of a child, no hint yet of the muskiness of sexual maturity. I planted a kiss on one little lip, then the other, savouring the moment.

“I don’t mind if you lick it,” Millie told me.

That was the only encouragement I needed. I drew my tongue up her childish slit.

I was actually doing it, going down on my seven-year-old daughter. Too late for regrets now. A line crossed is a line crossed forever.

Clutching my head, Millie ground against me while my tongue explored freely, flicking and lashing over her sweet baby cunt. I reached round to cup her bum – two soft globes in the palm of my hands.

All pretences of a fun little game had been pushed aside. This was lovemaking, plain and simple. I licked Millie’s pretty pink cleft, then nuzzled her tiny clit until, quite suddenly, she tensed against me and exhaled a big sigh, her mouth hanging ajar, eyes squeezed tightly shut as she came. Her legs trembled slightly as I peppered a few final kisses on her beautiful pussy.

“I think you just had an orgasm, Pixie,” I said, smiling up at her.

She slumped back down into my lap and nodded, strands of damp hair plastered to her forehead.

“Can Mummy have a kiss?” I asked my daughter.

Millie lunged at me and crushed her mouth to mine, then gave me what I can only describe as a rather vigorous face wash.

I put a finger on her lips and she pulled back, looking pleased with herself. “Wow! Okay. That was different,” I told her, laughing.

Millie grinned at me. “That’s how they do it on the telly.”

“Not quite, my little facehugger.” I gently pulled her towards me. “Our tongues are supposed to dance together, not fight each other to the death. Like this.” Parting my lips, I kissed my little girl, tongue lightly teasing hers. Soon enough, Millie found my rhythm, and we kissed as lovers.

When finally we separated, my daughter had a chuckle for me. “You taste like marmalade.”

“Well, you taste like bubblegum,” I retorted, rubbing her little nose with mine.

“I’ll lick your kitty now, okay? I know how to lick kitties,” she declared.

“Oh, do you now? And where would a little girl learn something like that, I wonder?” I teased, knowing full well what she and her sister had been getting up to.

Millie made a face like a startled monkey – her fibbing face. “Um… Miss Laine taught us about it in school.”

I laughed. “Nice try, sweetie, but I don’t think Miss Laine would teach her pupils something like that.” Actually, I suspected Miss Laine would very much like to teach her young charges those kinds of lessons.

“No, not Miss Laine. I meant… I saw it on the telly.”

“You’ve been watching ladies licking each other’s kitties on the TV?” I asked, pretending to be shocked.

Millie shook her head. “No. It was a book, actually. I… read it by accident.”

I smiled and kissed her on the nose. “I think you’re a little fibber. And as punishment I think you should get down on your hands and knees, pull Mummy’s panties off and give her pussy a really good licking.”

Millie grinned at me and shuffled off the couch while I took my trousers off and threw them on the floor. I sat up and scooted to the edge of the couch as my daughter sat intrigued beneath me. She grasped the waistband of my now sopping knickers and I lifted my bum slightly so she could slip them down my legs.

“Did you wee in them?” Millie asked me, tossing the wet undies on the floor.

“No, I’m fully house trained, thank you very much. They’re all wet because you made me very excited, if you must know.”

“I did?”

“You did.”

“’Cause you liked licking my kitty?”

“Exactly.” I spread my knees apart and cupped her chin, gently guiding her towards my steaming cunt. “Now lick my pussy. Just like I licked yours.”

I thought Millie might hesitate, but it seemed she was keen to taste her mummy. Her little kitten tongue flicked playfully against my cunt, and I jolted slightly at the sensation, my pent up arousal finally given an outlet. She tasted me again, then licked her lips, sampling the musky tang. Clearly approving, she pushed her tongue through my outer labia.

I closed my eyes and let out a long sigh, surrendering to my child’s mouth. “That’s so nice, Millie.”

“It tastes different to… oh, never mind,” she said, then returned to her task.

I ran my fingers through her hair. “It’s okay, Pixie. I know you and your sister have been doing rude things together. I don’t mind. Now lick Mummy out like a big girl. Make me come on your face.”

Millie put her fingers on my cunt and prised me open, spreading my fleshy lips apart and inspecting me with considerable interest. It occurred to me how different she was to her sister – Freya was shy, often uncertain, whereas Millie was bold and outgoing, always keen to try new things. And this was certainly new.

“Do you like looking inside Mummy’s pussy? Is it exciting?” I asked her.

“It’s really juicy in there,” she told me, then casually added, “I’m gonna put my tongue in, okay?”

Cradling my daughter’s head, I guided her to my waiting cunt, then attended to the urgent throb of my clit with a free hand. “Eat me, baby girl. Tongue fuck Mummy.”

Millie pressed her mouth to my steamy cunt, spreading my labia open and probing the hot pink flesh within – a busy little bee supping at her queen’s flower. And although that image didn’t quite make sense, the absurdity of it filled me with delight and drew a titter from my lips.

I stroked my little girl’s hair as she feasted upon me. “There you go, little bee. Drink Mummy’s nectar. Buzz buzz buzz.”

Millie gazed up at me, her tongue still eagerly flicking away. “Nnn?”

“Naughty little buzzy bee,” I gasped, spreading my legs as wide as I could. “Look at all the sweet honey you’re making. Lick it all up, baby bee!”

My daughter must have thought I’d gone completely mad, yet still she busied herself between my legs, lapping at my throbbing cunt while I humped against her, my impending climax fast approaching boiling point.

“Ooh yeah, little bee!” I cried, as my orgasm erupted violently. “Eat Mummy’s sticky flower! Suck my cunt! Oh! Fuck!”

I held Millie against my twitching loins as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over me. For those few seconds I could hear nothing, see nothing – my entire being condensed down into a singular point of orgasmic bliss. Once the storm had passed, I closed my eyes and slumped back into the couch, basking in the pleasant afterglow.

Eventually, I came back down to Planet Earth and opened my eyes again. Millie was still kneeling on the floor looking up at me, her mouth smeared with my essence. “You said a lot of bad words, Mummy,” she told me in no uncertain terms.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “I most certainly did!” I confessed, slapping myself on the wrist. “Naughty Mummy!” I cleaned Millie’s face up with her panties, then handed them to her. “Put those on, sweetie. Freya will be back soon.”

***

 

Footprints. Flat heeled. Size four, maybe a five. Freshly made and heading towards the forest.

She was no more than half a day in front of me, but I would need to pick up the pace if I was going to catch up to her.

I stood up and spat on the ground, squinting against the glare of the hot sun, then made my way towards the line of trees in the distance.

Freshly snapped branches. Insignificant to anyone else, but not me. I was an expert tracker, having been captured and raised by the Apaches. It gave me an edge as a bounty hunter; it was why I had a reputation for being the best.

This is where she had entered the forest, probably thinking she could lose me amongst the trees. But I knew these woods like the back of my hand, having been raised by wolves here. Before the Apaches found me, obviously.

Continuing to observe the signs, I followed the trail until finally it led me to her.

As I suspected. The old fireplace in the woods.

She was bent down, her back to me. I knew how this would go: I would sneak up on her and just as I was but a few feet away she would suddenly turn to face me and say something like, “Ah, Freya Newton. I’ve been expecting you.”

I stepped on a twig and snapped it.

Miss Laine spun round. “Arrgh!” she screamed, flapping her hands up and down.

“Waaaah!” I screamed back, startled.

“Freya! You nearly made me pee my pants!”

“I – I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“Why are you sneaking around in the woods?” Miss Laine demanded to know.

“I… I was just out for a nice walk,” I improvised, before adding, “Fancy meeting you here!”

I should have known better than to try and fool my teacher. Miss Laine stood there with her hands on her hips. “Did you follow me, young lady?”

“No. Yes. A bit.”

Miss Laine threw her head back and laughed. She had a nice laugh – soft and jingly like… er… a fluffy bell? Maybe? Well, I like her laugh anyway. Finally giving me a smile, she said, “Can I ask why you followed me?”

“I dunno, really. Just curious to know where you were going, I suppose.”

“Well, now you know, Nosy Newton!” Miss Laine stepped away from the old fireplace and I could see the bunch of flowers she’d placed there – the same ones I’d noticed her holding back at our house.

“So it was you who’s been leaving flowers here,” I said to her.

Miss Laine looked surprised. “You’ve been here before?”

I nodded. “Millie found the fireplace a while back. We wondered who’d left the flowers.”

“And now you know that too, I guess.”

“Why do you leave flowers here?”

Miss Laine sighed and studied the remains of the old hut, as if she was trying to imagine what it might have looked like before the forest rotted it away. “To honour the memory of the lady who used to live here.”

Intrigued, I asked, “Who was she?”

“An ancestor of mine. Her name was Isabel.”

“Why’d she live in a forest?”

“Well, Isabel was a herbalist and a healer. I imagine most of her herbs came from the forest, so it seems like a sensible place to live. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“That’s what Millie said too,” I pondered.

Miss Laine looked confused. “Er… you might need to explain that.”

“Millie said something about a lady who makes medicine. She must have meant Isabel.”

“How on earth would Millie know that?”

So I told Miss Laine the same tale I’d shared with Mr. Dalliard – about how Millie would touch things and space out and say weird stuff, and about our trip through the Menhir Stone. When I finished, I expected my teacher to burst out laughing or tell me off for lying, but to my surprise she put a hand on my shoulder and gave me a serious look.

“And this all started when your sister touched the ancient oak tree, you say?”

“Yeah.”

Miss Laine put both hands to her head and made a face. “I’ve been going to the wrong place all this time,” she said, more to herself than to me. “Isabel wasn’t here at all, she was in that damned tree. Shit!” She gave me a sheepish look. “Um, excuse my language.”

“That’s okay, I won’t tell,” I assured her. “What do you mean about Isabel not being here, though?”

Miss Laine studied me carefully, as if she were deciding whether I could be trusted or not. “Let’s walk home and I’ll do my best to explain. Some of it, at least.”

We left the old fireplace behind and came out on the hikers’ track that wound its way through the forest.

“I’ve been trying to send Isabel on her way, Freya,” Miss Laine explained. “It’s what I came here to do.”

That confused me. If Isabel was an ancestor, didn’t that mean she wasn’t alive? “Send her where?”

“Onwards. To the place where spirits go.”

“Huh?” I said, still not really understanding.

“Okay, that part’s complicated… and it’s not important right now. The point is, something bad happened to Isabel and her spirit didn’t move on. So she needs help.”

“What happened to her?”

Miss Laine came to a halt and gave me another serious look. “I’m not sure you’re old enough to know about that.”

I crossed my arms and stood up straight, giving my teacher a fierce look. “I bloody well am old enough, actually! I’ve been back in time and seen Dryads and Neanderthals! And now I’m trying to help my sister ’cause she’s in trouble, so don’t you give me any of that ‘you’re too young’ shit, okay?!”

“Freya Newton!” gasped Miss Laine, then burst out laughing, a hand held up to her mouth in shock.

“I’m not joking!” I shouted at her.

“Okay, okay, calm down. I’ll tell you. But you probably shouldn’t mention this to your mum.”

I uncrossed my arms and relaxed a bit. I couldn’t quite believe I’d just spoken to my teacher like that!

“It’s not a nice thing to talk about, but some bad people said Isabel was a witch and hung her to death from the oak tree down by the fields – the same one Millie touched.”

I was shocked to hear that. “A witch? But they must have known witches aren’t real.”

It was Miss Laine’s turn to cross her arms now. “And what makes you think witches aren’t real?”

“They only exist in fairy tales and stories, don’t they?” I replied.

“Are Dryads real?” Miss Laine asked me.

It wasn’t long ago that I had told Mum and Miss Laine that Millie had been making it up about the Dryad. But after our trip through the Menhir Stone, I saw things differently. “Yeah… I think they might be.”

Miss Laine simply raised an eyebrow, and then I understood. This was how she taught us in school. She never told us the answer, just pointed us in the right direction and let us discover the truth ourselves. It was a really clever way of teaching.

“I guess witches could be real too, if Dryads are,” I admitted.

We continued on towards the edge of the forest.

“So Isabel was a witch?” I said.

“Yes.”

“But aren’t witches bad?”

“Witches are probably not what you think they are, Freya. History has taken the image of the witch and turned it into something to be feared and loathed. People have hunted witches for thousands of years, and Isabel learnt that the hard way – they took her away and killed her. But something happened and her spirit didn’t move on like it should have. Do you understand?”

I wasn’t sure I did, but kind of got the gist of it. “I think so. How do you know all this, though?”

“That’s hard to explain. Basically, I’ve spent a long time trying to piece it all together. The tree was the missing part. I thought she would have gone home, and there’s certainly old magic around that hut – the mushrooms indicate as much. But it could be the tree she’s anchored to. It would make sense, if that was where she died.”

My mind was a whirlwind of questions and confusion. Maybe all the weird stuff Millie was doing wasn’t the Dryad at all – maybe it was this Isabel. My sister had mentioned a ‘bad Dryad’. Could she have meant Miss Laine’s ancestor? “I’m not exactly sure what you’re talking about, but do you think Isabel has maybe, um… possessed my sister or something?”

Miss Laine mulled that over. “I’m honestly not sure, Freya. You see, I’m quite new at all this. Millie must be very receptive to magic if Isabel has managed to latch on to her. And tapping into the Menhir Stone like she did is definitely out of my league. I need to do some more research. In the meantime, keep this conversation between us, but keep a close eye on your sister. If anything odd happens, you let me know straight away, all right?”

“Yeah, I will.” I suddenly felt relieved that we might actually be getting somewhere with this. And also that Miss Laine didn’t think I was completely mental.

But there was something else I wanted to ask, too – something a bit embarrassing. “Um… Sadie?”

“Hmm?” Miss Laine said, her mind clearly on more important things.

“Did you give Mum your knickers so she could give them to me?” I asked and felt my face glow.

“My knickers? Oh. Well.” Miss Laine burst out laughing again. “I suppose I did, yes.”

I smiled shyly and pretended to scratch my nose. “Why?”

My teacher put a hand on my shoulder. “A little bird told me you like to have fun with dirty panties. Did I get it wrong?”

OMG, what else had Mum told Miss Laine about me? She made me promise not to speak to anyone about the rude things we’d been doing, but apparently she was allowed to tell whoever she liked. Parents are such hippopotamuses!

I shrugged and told Miss Laine, “It’s a bit embarrassing to admit… but yeah, I do kind of like them.”

“You don’t need to be embarrassed. It’s normal to experiment at your age. At any age, actually,” Miss Laine told me. I felt her touch the back of my neck, lightly stroking me there. “I have a confession, too.”

“You do?” I asked, intrigued.

Miss Laine came to a halt, bent down and whispered in my ear. “I really liked kissing your bottom!”

I let out a stupid high-pitched giggle then, suddenly feeling awkward, cleared my throat. “Oh. Um… thanks. Well, I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to kiss it again, you know?”

Miss Laine seemed to consider that very carefully, but shook her head. “Oh, Freya, there’s nothing I’d like more than to kiss your pretty bottom again, but we shouldn’t do anything like that without your mum’s permission.”

“Mum won’t mind,” I insisted.

“Maybe she will and maybe she won’t, but either way, it’s important that she has the final say. I wouldn’t be a very good friend if I did things behind her back, now would I?”

I sighed. “I suppose not.” Then I had an idea. “We could show each other our kitties, though. That’s not actually touching, is it?”

Miss Laine laughed again. “Oh, my goodness! You’re incorrigible!”

“Can we, though?” I persisted.

Miss Laine looked around to make sure no one was in the vicinity. “Come into the trees, then. I don’t want anyone seeing us.”

We headed off the path and into the forest a little ways.

Miss Laine knelt down amongst the ferns and slowly shook her head. “I can’t believe I’m doing this. You first.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “Will you definitely show me yours afterward?”

“I’m a woman of my word. If I say I’ll show you, I’ll show you.”

“You didn’t actually say you’d show me, though,” I pointed out.

“I’ll show you!” Miss Laine said, quick as a flash.

“Okay, good.” I pulled my shorts and panties down to my knees in one quick movement, then lifted my t-shirt up so she had a good view of everything.

Miss Laine stared between my legs with a dreamy look on her face. “My goodness, what a pretty little kitty,” she said in a hushed voice.

“Is it?” I asked.

“Oh yes, it’s beautiful. So smooth and fresh…”

I wanted her to touch it. But I knew that wouldn’t happen today. “Can I see yours now?”

“Show me your bum first,” my teacher said.

I turned around and gave her a little wiggle. “Do you like my bum, too?”

“It’s perfect,” Miss Laine told me with a happy sigh.

Then, feeling daring, I took hold of my bum cheeks and spread them apart, showing off my bumhole in a really dirty way. I hoped I was clean back there. “What about now? Do you still like it when I do this?” I asked my teacher with a smirk.

“Oh, dear.” Miss Laine perched a finger on her bottom lip and blinked a few times, as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. “What a naughty young lady. It’s… it’s so incredibly rude to spread yourself open like that.” Well, the way she was staring, I don’t think Miss Laine was quite as shocked as she pretended to be.

Letting go of my bum cheeks, I turned round to face my teacher. “Your turn now,” I insisted.

Miss Laine stood up and leant back against a tree. “Kneel down then, and I’ll show you.”

I squatted down in front of her, my knickers still stretched around my knees.

Miss Laine lifted her red dress up, revealing matching lacy panties and stockings. “Are you sure you want to see?” she asked me.

I nodded eagerly. “Yeah, I definitely do.”

She peeled her knickers to one side, and there I was, face to face with my teacher’s kitty for the first time ever. Except, you know, kitties don’t really have a face.

It was true what Mum had said: Miss Laine liked to shave her pussy. It was as smooth as mine except for a little tuft of hair at the top. I stared and stared, my mouth hanging open in awe.

“Do you approve, Freya Newton?” my teacher asked me in a husky voice.

I nodded slowly. “It’s really pretty. I… I’d love to touch it.”

Miss Laine shook her head and waggled a finger at me. “No tou-ching! Not each other, at least.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, looking up at her.

“Take your panties off and give them to me,” Miss Laine instructed.

I didn’t hesitate; just slipped my shorts and panties off and then handed her the knickers.

Miss Laine pulled her own undies round her knees and then inspected mine. “Little girl panties with butterflies on. How delightful.” Pressing my knickers between her legs, she began rubbing them up and down her kitty.

“Oh, wow,” I gushed. I think I preferred touching, but after seeing Mum play with herself and now Miss Laine, I knew that watching could be lots of fun, too. No wonder adults liked looking at rude videos on the internet!

Miss Laine spread her pussy open and pushed my knickers between her lips, masturbating herself. “Is this okay, Freya? Making myself feel good with your panties?”

“Yeah, I really like watching rude stuff,” I replied, enthralled.

“Oh gosh, I feel so horny. I hope you don’t mind if I come on your knickers.”

“I don’t mind,” I told her as she scrubbed her gorgeous pussy with my panties, soaking all the butterflies in her juices. I slipped a hand between my legs and fingered myself, amazed at the dirty thing my teacher was doing in front of me.

“I could see you in class, Freya Newton,” Miss Laine told me as she rubbed herself. “Showing all the other girls your pussy under the table.”

Oh my God, she’d seen me do that? So embarrassing! But also… kind of exciting!

“I so wanted you to show me your pussy, too,” she continued. “And now you have. And your sexy little bumhole. Now I’m going to come. All over your pretty butterfly panties.”

Miss Laine went all tense and froze in place. “Oh, goodness! You. Sexy. Little. Girl!” She clutched my knickers to her kitty, making a mess of them as she orgasmed.

After seeing that, I was close to doing an orgasm too. I pushed my middle finger in and out of myself until that familiar feeling rushed up and surrounded me. “Miss Laine! I’m gonna lick your kitty one day!” I gasped, without really thinking what I was saying. I only just managed to keep my balance as I came, still squatting just above the ground.

Miss Laine bent to kiss me on the head, then handed me back my panties. “Put those back on, and then let’s get you home before your mum starts to worry.”

I slipped into my knickers. They were warm and wet and I didn’t ever want to take them off. Miss Laine pulled her own panties back up and pushed her dress down. I put my shorts on and, hand in hand, we headed home.

***

I was hanging out the laundry with Millie when Sadie and Freya strolled through the poppy field and up the garden towards us. Freya ran over to her sister, babbling about witches and someone called Isabel. Another one of their games, no doubt.

Sadie sauntered over and smiled, a slightly flushed look to her face.

I smirked at her. “Been sneaking off with my daughter, have you?”

“Not exactly,” Sadie replied.

I could smell sex on her. “Have you… been doing stuff together?” I asked.

Sadie winced a little. “No. I mean, a little showing, but no touching. Is that okay?”

I kissed Sadie on the mouth, a bedsheet gently blowing in the breeze, hiding us from the girls’ view. “Yes, it’s okay,” I told my best friend. “Actually… I think it’s about time the four of us had some naughty fun together… don’t you?”

Sadie’s eyes lit up. “That sounds nice. What did you have in mind?”

“Dinner here, tomorrow night?”

“Tomorrow night sounds good. But Iet’s make it my place for a change.”

“It’s a date.”

Sadie gave me a dirty grin. “Ask the girls to wear something… pretty,” she said, reaching down to stroke herself between the legs.

I could feel all the pieces falling into place – Me; Millie; Freya; Sadie. This was how the universe wanted things to be. Nature is defined by patterns of chaos – try to establish some semblance of order within that chaos, or simply dive in and see where it takes you. So I took a deep breath… and leapt.

On to Chapter Nine!