Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

By JetBoy

Introduction: This is adapted from / inspired by “Loli,” a story by Louisa May. It is the fourth of my reworkings of her lesbian erotica.

More than any other author, it was Louisa May who made me want to write sex fiction. I posted my first story nearly ten years ago and never looked back. Along the way, I used to unwind from long bouts of writing by tinkering with the stories of other writers, interpreting their work in my own way — like a jazz musician taking a familiar tune and turning it into something new. I especially enjoyed this exercise with the stories of Louisa May.

These were done for my own pleasure, never intended to be made public — at least not until I sent a copy of one of them to fellow author Androgyne as a thank-you for her nice remarks about one of my stories. She wrote back to insist that I post it at Leslita. After I replied with my reservations about doing so, she suggested that I present the story as a loving tribute to Louisa May.

I ended up doing several more variations on her stories; thankfully, one day Louisa May appeared again at Leslita with a new offering, and gave me her blessing when I wrote to call her attention to my humble efforts.

It should be mentioned that I’ve really only retained the plot of “Loli” here. The story itself has been thoroughly rewritten in my own style, with considerable details added that weren’t in the original. So if you don’t like what you read, it’s not Louisa May’s fault.

Thank you, Louisa May, for your wonderful stories and your kindness. Wherever you are, may your joys be many, your tribulations few.

Summer had just begun, the weather was glorious, and my eleven-year-old daughter Vanessa had a new friend who was dropping by for a dip in our swimming pool.

Lisa’s parents had recently moved to our area, just in time for their daughter to catch the last two months of fifth grade at my daughter’s school — a transition that couldn’t have been at all easy for a girl on the cusp of teenhood. Luckily, my Vanessa met Lisa a few weeks before school let out, and had taken a liking to her right away. That was when I began to hear about “…this new girl from St. Louis. She’s the coolest, Mom!”

I’d just spent a week getting our swimming pool ready for summer — started up the filtration system, topped up the water level, chlorinated it, vacuumed it, skimmed it, burned incense and intoned a prayer to the gods over it. Now my labors were complete, and Vanessa wanted to show it off, so Lisa was invited to our home for the first time.

I remember thinking even then, as I stood at the living room window, watching the girls frolic in the water, that there was something truly fascinating about Lisa. For one thing, she had incredibly bright red hair that shone like copper in the midday sun. Then there was her pretty freckled face, which had a tendency toward very cartoonish expressions when she was excited. Which was often.

She had a walk that I’d have to describe as cat-like. Or perhaps it was more like a dancer’s interpretation of a cat prowling its space, somehow restless and relaxed at the same time. There was a slight hunch to her shoulders that angled her head forward just a bit — as if she was on the alert, ready to pounce at some unseen prey.

I didn’t notice myself getting turned on right away, or that I was deriving genuine pleasure from watching little Lisa so closely. What I remember is studying the girls as they nimbly capered in and around the pool, comparing one to the other. I recall being impressed with how much Vanessa had grown over the winter, especially her cute rounded bottom, so different from Lisa’s slimmer one.

Nessa’s breasts were coming in nicely — I’d gotten her fitted for that first training bra only a few months earlier — while Lisa’s were only just beginning to bud. On the other hand, her nipples were rather prominent. I could see them, clearly defined as anything through her one-piece bathing suit. Are they erect, I found myself wondering, or just big for her age?

Then, after a particularly animated leap into the water, Lisa scrambled from the pool, only to reveal that her suit had crept up into the cleft between her legs in a most revealing way. Casually tugging it back down, she darted back to the diving board, flinging herself back into the deep end with a Tarzan yell.

I stared, uncertain of why my heart was racing so. Goodness me…

I’d been leading a bisexual life ever since splitting with my husband two years earlier — in fact, my love for women was what finally put the kibosh on an already shaky marriage — and as time passed, my craving for lesbian sex only grew more intense. I still liked men, but they seemed increasingly less interesting to me.

That said, the idea of being aroused by a girl of eleven was a bit too much to wrap my head around, so my mind simply refused to acknowledge it. Denying the obvious, I blamed the glow I felt inside on the mellow warmth of the day, as well as the great mood I was in.

In fact, I felt an abrupt urge to put on a bathing suit, go onto the patio and join the fun. Usually when Nessa had friends over to swim, I let them have the pool to themselves, figuring that nobody needed Mom getting in the mix. Too much like having a supervisor around, putting a damper on everyone’s fun. But that day, my need to be a part of things was simply too strong to resist.

I made my way upstairs and dug through the bottom drawer of my lingerie chest, digging out my old reliable beer bottle-green one-piece bathing suit, the one I always swam in — then suddenly, I paused.

I’m bored to tears with this old thing, I thought, studying it critically, then stuffing it back in the drawer under everything else. The gesture felt liberating, like burying a part of myself that I was well rid of.

Taking a deep breath, I padded over to the walk-in closet and switched on the light. Inside, sitting next to my shoe rack, was a certain neon-blue shopping bag I’d placed there last July.

I seated myself on the bed, reached inside and pulled it out — the skimpiest, most daring bikini I’d ever owned, black as sin and just as enticing, its price tag still attached.

I’d seen it in a hip little boutique one day, when my friend Erica and I hit the mall together a year or so after my divorce. The instant I laid an idle finger on it, her eyes had lit up like a pinball machine. “Honey pie, you have got to have this,” she announced in her transplanted Georgia drawl. “Wear that li’l old thing to the beach, and you’ll be beatin’ the men off with a pool cue!”

I wasn’t quite ready to tell Erica that my tastes were leaning more toward the ladies…. so I made some lewd crack of the order of How exactly do you beat a man off with a pool cue — and what happens if he likes it? We shared a good laugh, then moved on to another store. But Erica insisted on buying me that black bikini before we left. “An early birthday present, dear heart,” she laughed, shoving the bag into my hands.

Now nearly a year later, I was slipping into it for the first time. While half my brain asked, Who on earth are you wearing this for? the other half insisted that I ought to look as good as possible around Vanessa’s cool new friend.

The moment of truth. I steeled myself for that first glimpse in the mirror, then slowly turned to face it.

Yes. Oh, my, yes. Pivoting from side to side, turning around to check myself from the back, I studied the effect and approved. Pretty damn fine for a thirtysomething mom, yes indeed. That gym membership I’d signed up for after my divorce had been money well spent.

The new bikini was a daring choice, revealing much more skin than I was accustomed to — in fact, my ass was all but completely bare. But right then, it was exactly the image I felt like projecting to the world. I may look more like Florence Henderson than a supermodel, but a mom can still be sexy, can’t she?

Preparing myself to make a grand entrance, I sauntered toward the bedroom door, made my way down the stairs, then boldly strode out onto the pool patio as if I was mounting a catwalk.

It got the reaction I wanted and then some. From the middle of the pool, Vanessa ceased her splashing and turned to look — then her eyes got somewhat enormous.

“Mom!” she squealed. “Holy cow, what are you wearing?”

From her seated perch on the edge of the diving board, Lisa gave a wolf whistle, those lovely bare legs of hers swinging back and forth. “She’s wearin’ a hot bathing suit, dumbhead!”

Nessa gave her friend a mock-scowl. “I can see that, ya goofball!” She swiveled back to me. “Where’s your green suit, Mom?”

Trying to look perfectly innocent, I replied, “Well… I just felt like trying something different today.” I looked down at myself. “I don’t know, hon — do you think it doesn’t work for me?”

My daughter studied me, pursing her lips. “No, it looks really good, I guess. But it’s so, so…”

“Sexy!” cried Lisa, now standing on the diving board. There was an eager glint in her eyes, a look I’d almost describe as hungry — like this girl of eleven wanted to put me on a cracker and devour it in a single gulp.

Then she astonished me even further by doing a leggy little bump-and-grind dance, chanting “S! E! X! Y! SEXY!” I could only stare as Lisa worked it, her slim hips churning to and fro.

Suddenly she bounded forward, did a big bounce on the edge of the diving board and leapt into the pool. Her head broke the surface about two feet from where Vanessa stood, and she shrieked, “SEXYYYY!”

Vanessa snickered. “God, you are such a nut.”

Lisa reached out and grabbed her new friend’s arms, “No, no, c’mon — do it with me!”

So Vanessa, suddenly caught up in Lisa’s giddy mood, joined her in shouting “S! E! X! Y! SEXYYYY!” even throwing in some improvised cheerleader moves before collapsing in a fit of splashes and giggles.

The thing was, I did feel sexy. Hot and bothered, even. Something about strutting my stuff in front of two cute young girls really seemed to get my motor purring, I still didn’t quite understand why. But as long as it felt good, why stop showing off?

As I walked to the ladder, I added a sensuous sway to my gait, very conscious of two pairs of eyes taking in the sight. I turned to descend and, with a little hitch and a dip, lowered myself into the water, then did a couple of laps from one end of the pool to the other to warm up, pausing to sweep my wet hair back.

“I’m gettin’ all wrinkly,” Nessa said, frowning at her hands. “Hey, Lisa, wanna go watch TV? We got a big old box set of Bugs Bunny DVDs.”

“Sure, but in a minute,” Lisa answered. “I wanna swim just a little bit more, okay?”

Vanessa shrugged. “Well, I’m gonna get out before I shrivel up.” She clambered out of the pool, dripping all over, and grabbed a towel from one of the deck chairs. “C’mon into the family room when you’re done!” she added, vigorously drying her hair as she padded into the house.

For the first time that afternoon, the patio was quiet. Then a bashful Lisa came paddling over to me. She treaded water for a moment, clearly wanting to speak. Finally, she said, “Hi, Ms. Johnson.”

“Hello, Lisa,” I replied, giving her a welcoming smile.

I stood against the side of the pool, my arms stretched out along the edge, face tilted upward to catch the sun’s warmth, Lisa gazing at me the whole time. I glanced over at her every once in awhile to find her big eyes on me. They were greener than I thought it possible for eyes to be, especially against her freckled skin. They gave her face a very pretty, very elfin quality.

“That’s a really cool bathing suit,” Lisa said, the words coming out in a rush.

So adorable. I had to smile. “Thank you, Lisa. I’m glad you like it.” I was, too.

She nodded, then her expression turned wistful. “I wish my mom would let me get a new bathing suit.”

“Well, maybe she will soon,” I murmured. “It’s certainly the time of year for it.”

She gave a disdainful huff. “Naah. She says this one,” and she peered down forlornly, “this stupid thing has to do me for the whole summer! It hardly fits, even! Can you believe it?” She was scowling very cutely, her nose scrunched up like a Lisa cartoon.

That was when fate handed me a flash of inspiration, and I seized it with both hands.

“You know what, Lisa? We might have something you could use. Vanessa has swimsuits galore, and I doubt she needs all of them, so why don’t I pick out a couple–”

“Omigosh! How cool!” Lisa squealed, She fell back and did a somersault in the water. As she did, I could see that yes, she was in dire need of a new swimsuit — the crotch had slipped to one side, giving me a brief glimpse of pinkness between her legs.

Before I could fully digest what I’d seen, Lisa burst from beneath the water snorting, grinning, and glowing with happiness. “Thank you, Ms. Johnson! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She swiftly paddled over to me and placed a clumsy kiss on my cheek, then just as swiftly swam to the ladder and hoisted herself out of the water.

I couldn’t help but stare. That one-piece suit didn’t fit her very well — I don’t know what her mother could have been thinking — and revealed a glistening, pale-skinned, and absolutely flawless bottom.

As she bent to pick up her own towel, Lisa quite casually reached around to pluck the suit out of her rear once again. Quickly towelling off, she strutted into the house, turning to call out, “See you inside!” accompanied by a little wave.

I stood there in the water like an idiot, trying not to let my mind dwell on that peek I’d just gotten of Lisa’s sex. Deep down inside, my conscious self was beginning to realize where these feelings of arousal were coming from — but I stubbornly thrust those thoughts away.

She’s a nice girl, I told myself. I’m so glad Vanessa made friends with her. Then my mind turned to the prospect of finding Lisa a suit among the ones my daughter never wore any more, of helping her try a few of them on, adjusting them on her…

Suddenly I found myself wanting to go back to my room for a moment and… unwind.

Was that how I justified it to myself? All I knew was that there was a stubborn tingling between my thighs that simply had to be dealt with. So I got out of the pool, dried myself, then wandered up to the bedroom.

The door was half ajar, and I was startled by the sight of Lisa, stripping off her bathing suit in front of my large mirror. I’d heard Vanessa downstairs, and had assumed that they were together.

She paused, intently studying her reflection in the glass. The mirror didn’t catch the door, or me.

The one-piece suit had been pulled down to her waist, leaving Lisa topless. She peered at herself, then suddenly thrust her chest out — a gesture I remembered from my own younger, less developed days. She caressed her breasts, then brought both index fingers to her nipples and lightly teased them. I watched, utterly enthralled, as the dark buds stiffened visibly to her touch.

Then she tugged her suit down even further, just enough to reveal her slit. She studied that too for awhile, then abruptly turned to check out her bottom. She arched it out, then pulled the suit down to her knees to see it bare.

My sex was pulsing like a bass drum, and that sensation only grew more acute when Lisa pulled the suit all the way down and stepped out of it. Looking over her shoulder, she reached back to spread her cheeks apart with both hands, exposing herself completely.

Oh, my. I grew warm all over as the realization hit me that I wanted to be there, down on my knees behind this exquisite young girl, kissing that beautiful bottom.

I was stunned — ashamed of myself, of these feelings. But not enough to stop watching.

A good thing too, because she abruptly turned to face the mirror and sat on the bed, thighs wide apart, her vagina wide open to the glass. And she began to touch herself.

This is what, I think, sent me over the edge of arousal into obsession — watching this eleven-year-old girl masturbate so freely in front of the mirror, the same one that I’d used many times for the same purpose.

Lisa continued to fondle her bare sex… and though I couldn’t see well enough to know for sure, I pictured her fingers glistening with moisture, sweet honey oozing from her slit as she grew more and more excited.

As for me, I was more turned on than I’d ever been in my life.

All of a sudden Lisa threw her head back, gasping as she began to come. She shook and whimpered, her body rocking back and forth, fingers digging between her thighs. Finally a cute little squeak came from her open mouth as she froze for a long moment, then sighed happily and slowly lay back on my bed.

I moved back slowly, tiptoed through the hallway and almost ran down the stairs. I stopped in the kitchen and absently opened the refrigerator door, my mind in a whirl.

What in God’s name was happening to me? I was lightheaded with desire and scared silly. All my life I’d seen myself as a normal, well-adjusted woman. Now I was lusting after a girl of eleven! Images of Lisa’s nude body assailed me, made my cunt throb. I pictured myself lying between her spread legs, licking at that sweet, smooth slit — No, damn it, don’t go there.

I stood gaping at the refrigerator’s contents, looking without seeing anything.

“Mom?” I started, then turned to see Vanessa looking at me, hands on her hips. She was wearing a long t-shirt over her damp bathing suit.

I did my best to appear calm, despite the storm raging inside. “Hmm?”

My daughter rolled her eyes. “What’s up? You’ve been standing there lookin’ in the fridge for, like, ten minutes. Can I get in there now?”

I stepped aside. “Sorry, hon, I’m just… thinking about stuff. Guess I went away for awhile there.” I glanced around the room. “Where’s Lisa?”

Vanessa reached to the back of the top shelf for a can of 7-Up. “She went upstairs to change. Don’t know why it’s takin’ her so long.”

I did some mental calculation, and decided that Lisa ought to have gotten herself cleaned up and dressed by then. “Go up and see… and while you’re at it, you get changed too, kiddo. You’ll catch cold in that wet swimsuit.”

“Don’t leave that empty can in your room,” I said, but she was already gone.

There I was, alone with my very dirty, very forbidden thoughts. God, I need a stiff drink.

Opening the refrigerator again, I extracted a fifth of Stolichnaya from the freezer, unscrewed the top and poured a generous slug into a plastic Little Mermaid tumbler, the first thing my hand encountered in the cabinet. I threw back the drink and paused for breath as the icy heat of the vodka hit me.

I’d just put the bottle back and rinsed out the tumbler when Lisa came into the kitchen, fully dressed and with a freshly fucked look on that cute face of hers. Sounds crude, I know — but I knew that look, and Lisa had it. Eleven years old or not, she had it. The slightly tousled hair, the dreamy cast to her eyes and, more than anything else, that rosy afterglow of a good orgasm.

Her eyes met mine, and an adorable hint of pink appeared on her cheeks.

“Want a 7-Up?” I asked her.

“No, thanks,” she replied, shaking her head. She did look a bit guilty, unconsciously avoiding my gaze.

“Lisa?”

She turned to me, those enchanting eyes of hers widening slightly. “Hm?”

I gave her a look of concern, all the while trying to still my racing heart. “Are you feeling okay? You look a bit, um, out of breath.”

Another blush. “I’m okay.” She seemed to want to say something. Finally, she did. “Ms. Johnson?”

“Yes, Lisa?”

She hesitated. “Oh, nothing…” I waited. She looked back at me again. I played along.

Lisa remained silent, so I placed a hand on her shoulder. Big reassuring smile. “What is it, dear?”

“Do you…?” Lisa’s hands were clasped tightly before her.

“Do I…?”

When she spoke, it all came out in a torrent. “DoyouthinkI’mpretty?” The words finally out, Lisa quickly covered her flushed face with both hands, peeking at me between the spread fingers.

I just stood there, the next thing to being naked in my black bikini, trying to conceal the passion that was raging inside me. Taking a deep breath, I knelt down in front of Lisa, uncovering her face by taking one of her hands and cradling it in mine.

“Oh, Lisa… of course you’re pretty.” I suppose I should have left it at that, but the sight of those emerald eyes made me add, “In fact, you’re just about the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” Now I was blushing.

She just stared at me, her mouth slightly open. “Really? Really and truly?”

All I could do was nod, lost in the awakening joy I saw on Lisa’s face.

She suddenly opened her arms and wrapped herself around me. I felt her lips briefly nuzzle my neck, and came perilously close to moaning out loud. Unable to help myself, I drew her slender body even closer to mine in a warm, affectionate hug.

My head swam as I breathed in Lisa’s scent, drinking it in like fine wine, feeling an almost violent rush of lust when I recognized the telltale bouquet of sex. I longed to take her index finger into my mouth, see if I could taste the sharp tang of her pussy.

Before I was ready to break our embrace, her arms released me, and we slowly moved apart. She smiled sweetly, whispered, “Thank you,” then left the room without a backward glance. My eyes were drawn to that cute bottom of hers, and I was already thinking about a few things I wanted to do to it.

I rose to my feet, then stood motionless for a moment, my body humming like a struck bell. With one hand, I touched the place on my neck where her lips had been, while the other found its way between my thighs, pressing in tightly, feeling the heat of lust through my bikini bottoms.

All right, now I would go to my room and lock the door behind me. It was time to get out of this bathing suit and into some serious self-exploration.

Continue on to Chapter 2