Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

By Naughty Mommy

This little story has special meaning for me, because it is the first piece of erotica I ever posted online for people to read. I’d been composing dirty stories for well over a decade, but always just for my own enjoyment or to share with my lover. Now, however, I was taking a big leap and putting myself out there, exposing my work to public scrutiny.

The date was November 4, 2012, the venue was Lesbian Lolita — and the response was absolutely wonderful, so supportive, complimentary, and gratifying. That gave me courage to begin posting more of my erotica and eventually led to where we are today.

Now, open up your blouse, take out your breast, begin fondling your nipple, and…

 

I heard the back door slam. School was done for the day and Tiffany was home. Now I would have to face the situation once again. Every weekday afternoon, I looked forward to this time while also fearing what it meant for us.

Weekends were different. It still happened, but it happened repeatedly, throughout the day, all day long. It was a comfortable habit, just the way we were.

It was the weekdays, when she had to go to school, that were difficult for me. After my little girl would go away teary-eyed in the morning, saying how much she would miss me, and then I would have hours to myself to think about what we were doing — before she would come running home in the afternoon, bursting eagerly through the door — that was when I was beset with doubts.

For the moment, however, I had no more time to think about it, because my Tiffany was there. She was with me again. Racing into the house, letting the door slam behind her as she always did, carelessly dropping her books and her lunchbox on the floor, she flung herself into my arms.

“Oh my darling girl, my sweet precious baby girl,” I hugged her tightly, kissing her cheeks, her mouth, her neck.

Her little legs were wrapped around me, squeezing me. “Mommy, Mommy, Mommy,” she panted, in between her own flurry of kisses on my neck, my cheeks, and my lips.

* * *

Tiffany was 8 years old, in the third grade. To me, she was an angel, the most adorable creature I had ever seen or could ever hope to see. Her shining hair was golden blonde and curly, forming a halo around her face. She had pale skin, sprinkled with a few freckles, a tiny nose, and big blue eyes. Her mouth was like an invitation, sweet and soft and kissable.

I loved to dress my darling daughter in beautiful clothes, making her look even more enchanting. I would spend a lot of money that way, finding only the most feminine and alluring little outfits for her to wear, so she would appear to me both like an innocent child and like a tantalizing, seductive young girl, all at once.

For school, of course, I generally toned down this effect, although she still looked completely charming every day. But I reserved the emphasis on her sex appeal for when she was home with me and we were alone together.

* * *

Today Tiffany was wearing a frilly white blouse under a blue velvet jumper, with white tights and black patent leather shoes. In her hair was a blue ribbon that matched the color of her jumper and her eyes. Her cheeks were rosy, her lips naturally pink and full. I kissed her mouth again and again.

Finally she relaxed the grip of her legs around my waist. We sat down on the sofa together, my precious baby girl in my lap. After taking off her shoes, she began to unbutton my blouse. I felt my breath coming faster. Even before Tiffany had my blouse open, my nipples were hard and ready for her.

Leaning down, sighing with desire, my daughter took one of my long nipples into her mouth and settled in for her afternoon feeding.

I had no milk. I hadn’t had any since around the time she’d started kindergarten, more than three years earlier. But she didn’t care about that. It wasn’t milk my little girl was sucking for, it was closeness.

I petted her, kissing her forehead, murmuring softly to her. The beautiful child was curled in my lap, her eyes closed in contentment, her small hands holding and gently squeezing my breast as she sucked on the nipple. I slid a hand slowly up her thigh, under her jumper, and caressed her bottom.

We remained that way for perhaps ten or fifteen minutes, and all the time my excitement continued to grow. I knew what was coming next.

* * *

On weekdays, Tiffany would usually have a feeding first thing in the morning, another in the afternoon as soon as she got home from school, one more after dinner, and a final feeding at bedtime. On weekends, we had less of a regular schedule, just whenever she felt the need for me, typically every two or three hours. I let her sleep in my bed on Fridays and Saturdays, and often during the night, I would wake up to find my daughter’s mouth at one of my breasts, hungrily sucking on the nipple.

From the time when she was a newborn, I had loved breast-feeding. I never wanted it to stop, and neither, it turned out, did she. After she began school, I made a few half-hearted efforts to break us of the habit, but to no avail.

Of course, I had to wonder how long we could keep this up. She was already 8 years old, what about when she was 11 or 12 years old? Or 16? Would we still be doing it then? And if not, how might the two of us adapt to that loss of closeness?

Those were the questions that plagued me during the day when she was away at school. No matter how deeply I thought about it, though, I could never come up with a satisfactory answer. It seemed as if we would have to stop someday. But when? And how?

* * *

When she was ready to switch to the other nipple, Tiffany shifted around on my lap, allowing me to hike up my skirt. Just as I never wore a bra when we were alone together, I also never wore panties.

Now I leaned sideways, reclining against the sofa’s cushioned arm. My little girl settled in next to me, laying on her side, her face at the level of my breasts. I had one foot on the floor and my other leg was extended along the length of the sofa.

Tiffany smiled prettily up at me, and I whispered, “I love you.” My baby blew me a little kiss before bringing her mouth down to my nipple.

I had one arm around her shoulders, hugging her to me. With my other hand, I was stroking her, petting her hair, caressing her soft cheeks. My daughter held my breast in her hands, gently squeezing it as she sucked on the nipple.

After about a minute of this, she lifted one of her hands from my breast and took me by the wrist, moving my hand to the other side of my chest. Her eyes, which had been shut, now opened again so she could watch as she placed my hand over my breast. Her fingers closed over mine, and she made me begin squeezing my own nipple.

This was a ritual she and I had practiced since she was just a little girl, perhaps three or four years old. Apparently she’d noticed that sometimes I liked to play with my own nipple, fondling it and caressing it while she was sucking on the other one. I wouldn’t do it all the time, though, and when I didn’t, she began to forcibly take my hand in hers, moving it to my breast. I presume that was because she enjoyed watching me do that. I’d never asked her about it. It was just something we did.

But that wasn’t all we did. After Tiffany had watched me play with my nipple for several minutes while she sucked on the other one, she reached over to my hand again, taking it away from my breast. She slowly moved it down this time… down, further down… until it reached my crotch.

* * *

This second part of our ritual had begun more recently, just two years before, when Tiffany was six years old. Late one Friday evening, we were in my bed, cuddling, both of us naked, and she was sucking on my nipples. For whatever reason, I found myself becoming intensely excited that night, much more than usual. I’d always experienced a certain amount of sexual arousal from breast-feeding her, even when she was only a baby. As the years went by, I became more and more heated whenever she would do it.

That evening, as her mouth and tongue worked on my nipples, I was unable to resist the urge to reach down between my legs and caress myself. It was something I’d had the desire to do many times before then, but I’d always found the strength to wait until later, until after she’d fallen asleep, before I quietly masturbated. This time, I couldn’t wait.

The room was only dimly lit and the sheets were covering my body below the waist, so I told myself that my daughter wouldn’t know what I was doing. And certainly, even if she noticed something, she wouldn’t have any idea that it was a sexual act.

I began to rub my clit, and within a few minutes I was approaching orgasm. The knowledge that I was crossing a boundary, breaking a taboo, somehow made it even more arousing to me. I kept telling myself to stop, to wait, to slow down, but it was no use. I’d already gone too far.

I climaxed that night, and the very next night I did the same thing. I touched myself in bed while Tiffany sucked on my nipples, and I climaxed again.

But then I decided I couldn’t continue that way, that it just wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair for me to take sexual pleasure from my daughter’s innocent way of showing me affection.

So you see, I wanted to stop, but she wouldn’t let me.

It was only two days later when she took my hand in hers for the first time and moved it down to my crotch. Since then, she does it at every feeding.

* * *

“My darling, darling girl, Mommy loves you so much.”

We were on the sofa. I was whispering endearments to her, looking down at the pretty blue ribbon in her golden blonde hair. Tiffany had her mouth on my nipple, and her hand on my hand between my legs.

She likes to feel my movements as I masturbate. Her little hand lays directly over mine, her fingers following the action of my fingers as I massage my clit. When I slide a finger between my pussy lips, dipping down to tease the opening to my vagina, feeling the heat and wetness at my center, her hand is there too. It’s almost as if she is masturbating me.

It usually takes me at least five or ten minutes to reach orgasm. And that’s perfectly fine, of course. I’m never in a hurry. What could be better than having a beautiful blonde angel sucking on my nipples, occasionally looking up into my eyes and smiling at me, as I stimulate myself and gradually approach a climax?

* * *

After I finished coming that afternoon, Tiffany moved up on the sofa and kissed my mouth. We held each other very close for a while, tenderly stroking and kissing each other, a mother and child so deeply happy together.

Later, I made a nice dinner for us, and then before bed, I gave her a bath, making sure to wash her perfect little body very carefully and thoroughly. She had another feeding before going to sleep, and I had another orgasm.

Someday, perhaps, we will have to stop. Or, possibly, we will go even further.

I’m beginning to think I shouldn’t worry so much all the time. In fact, I’m wondering now if Tiffany might like me to touch her between her legs and give her the same kind of pleasure that she has seen me give myself.

Yes, I might just try that. Maybe even tomorrow.