Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

By Naughty Mommy

The first time it happened was about three months ago.

I came home early from work one afternoon and when I went upstairs to change my clothes and passed by my daughter’s bedroom door, I heard something that made me stop and listen.

   …moaning, panting, gasping, groaning… 

I recognized those sounds, and I was sure I knew what they meant. God knows I’d made them often enough myself in bed late at night — fondling my nipples, rubbing my clit, fucking my pussy, trying my best to stay quiet (though not always successfully), while bringing myself to orgasm over and over again.

Yes, I love masturbating. It’s the best sex I’ve ever had, to tell the truth. Of course, I haven’t really had that much sex. A couple of boys in high school, a few more in college, then my husband, Rick, and in the ten years since he’d left us, nothing but my hands and fingers. Still, that’s been enough. Quite satisfying, in fact. I love to masturbate, to please myself, and I do it pretty much every night. I’m very good at it.

It seemed apparent from what I could hear as I stood outside her door, that my daughter, recently turned fifteen, had inherited my tendencies. I suppose I’d assumed all along that she’d been playing with herself. Most girls do, of course, but this was the first direct evidence I’d had of it. And it fascinated me. I knew I should walk away and leave her to her privacy, but somehow I couldn’t. I had to stay and listen.

Then a startling thought occurred to me. What if she wasn’t alone? Could there be someone with her in the bedroom, having sex with her? A boy, or possibly even a girl?

I listened more closely, more carefully, actually pressing my ear to the door. No, I couldn’t hear anyone else. There were no other voices, no other sounds from anyone except my daughter, Hallie. She was alone, I was certain of it, and she was masturbating.

Now I really should walk away, I told myself.

But I didn’t. I stayed and listened some more. I listened closely to the heavy breathing, the sexy grunts and groans. I could even hear, it seemed, the wet slushy sound of Hallie’s fingers working between her legs. Maybe that was only my imagination, I don’t know, but I was sure I could hear that too.

And oh my god, it turned me on.

Who knows why these things happen? Who can say what will excite us? Is it wrong to become aroused when you picture your own daughter masturbating? When you listen to her and hear the excitement building, when you can tell she’s approaching an orgasm? I don’t know about anyone else, but it certainly turned me on.

Suddenly I realized something. I was not only listening to her, but I was rubbing myself as well. My hand, unconsciously, had moved to my crotch, was pressing in on my mound through my slacks and pantyhose, massaging my clit.

That’s when I finally did decide to leave her door. Instead of going to my bedroom, however, and changing out of my work clothes, I headed back downstairs to the kitchen where I poured myself a glass of white wine, and waited.

I waited… I sipped the wine… and I thought about Hallie, about what she was doing. God, it just turned me on so much.

I simply couldn’t help it. My hand down slid to my crotch again. But this time I opened my slacks and pushed my fingers inside. I was wet, very wet. I stroked myself and it didn’t take long, not long at all.

Within only a minute or so, I brought myself to climax. That was even faster than usual. I must have been right on the edge already, just from listening to her and thinking about it, thinking about my teenage daughter rubbing her pussy.

When I finished, I raised the hand to my face, licking my fingers, loving the taste of my juices. Then I zipped and buttoned my slacks, and drank some more wine. I stood leaning against the kitchen counter, my breathing slowly returning to normal, occasionally sniffing my fingers, waiting for her.

Ten minutes later, I heard her bedroom door open, her bare feet coming down the stairs. She entered the kitchen, wearing gym shorts and a t-shirt, obviously braless.

“Oh!” She looked startled to see me. “Um… hi, Mom.”

“Hi, honey.”

“What are you doing home? Isn’t it kind of early?”

It was about 4:30 by then. Normally I wouldn’t get home until around 5:45. “Yeah, the boss had something to do, so he closed the office early today. No big deal.”

“Oh, okay.” A moment’s hesitation, then, “So, uh, how long have you been here?”

“Not very long, only a couple minutes.”

“All right.”

And that’s all that was said.

Perhaps I should have taken the opportunity then to speak with my daughter about the facts of life, about hormones, sexual urges, masturbation, and so on. But I didn’t. I could vividly recall how embarrassed I had been when my own mother sat me down when I was thirteen for a very awkward talk about the birds and the bees. I hated that, and I vowed never to repeat such a scene with my own child. Unless she came to me herself and asked for information, which she never had, the sex education she got in school would have to suffice.

* * *

That first time I listened outside her door was basically an accident, but the subsequent instances definitely were not. These other occasions did not occur in the afternoon, however, but in the evening.

I would say goodnight to Hallie, go to my room, shut the door and get ready for bed, and then just wait. After half an hour or so, I would quietly leave my bedroom and stand outside of hers, listening.

Sometimes there were no sounds at all, or just meaningless, incidental noises. But more often than not, when I listened through her door at night, I would hear what I was hoping to hear. I heard my daughter masturbating.

I did it too as I listened to her. I played with myself, a hand between my folds, teasing my erect clit, fucking my cunt, trying to time it so I would come at the very same time that she did.

I knew this was dangerous. How could I possibly explain it if Hallie suddenly opened the door and discovered me there, doing what I was doing? I knew it was a risk, but I didn’t care. It was worth it. And anyway, from what I could tell she seemed completely preoccupied with her own activities.

This went on for several weeks. Almost every night I would listen outside her door, and almost every night I would hear her masturbate, bringing herself to orgasm as I did the same.

This was intensely exciting to me. I would close my eyes and picture her as I rubbed my pussy, seeing my lovely teenage daughter in my mind, playing with herself. It was almost as though she and I were doing it together, in the same room with each other, in the very same bed — and that forbidden thought drove me wild with lust. It was so wrong, and yet so arousing, so desirable.

I remember making a promise to myself on one of those steamy nights that I would never go any further. This was enough. It was okay for me to fantasize about these other things, but that’s all it would ever be, just a deliriously exciting fantasy.

Soon, however, perhaps inevitably, there came a time when I needed more. Just listening to Hallie masturbate was not enough. I wanted to see her doing it too.

Was that idea crazy, insane? I tried to tell myself that’s exactly what it was — a foolish, stupid, crazy idea. Except the more I thought about it, the more I became convinced that I had to do it. And so I did.

It was on a Thursday, a day when I knew my daughter had no after-school activities and was likely to come straight home. Following lunch, I told my boss I wasn’t feeling well, that I must have eaten something bad, and he gave me the rest of the day off.

I parked the car in the garage so she wouldn’t see it. After changing out of my work clothes into loose terry shorts and a thin tank top, with no panties and no bra, I went to Hallie’s bedroom to wait. From her window, I could see the front sidewalk.

As I expected, at around 3:30 she came walking up, alone, lugging her backpack. She entered the house, and I hid inside her closet.

This was a huge risk, by far the biggest I’d taken yet. What if she found me in there? What could I say? There would be no way to rationalize it. My heart was pounding as I listened for her coming up the stairs.

I heard her bedroom door open, heard her drop her heavy backpack on the floor. I’d left a small crack in the closet door, only an inch or so, enough for me to see her unmade bed but not much else. As she moved around the room, sometimes I could see her and sometimes I couldn’t. But I saw that she was wearing earphones and listening to her iPod, sort of dancing along with a song. Then I saw that she was starting to take off her clothes.

She danced and sang, a bit out of tune, swaying to the beat as she kicked off her shoes, pulled off her socks, opened and pushed down her jeans, and then her panties too. Now all she wore was a little pink t-shirt.

A faster song came on. Hallie bounced around the room, twerking, shaking her beautiful butt. I saw that her pussy was shaved. Although we’d never talked about it, it didn’t really surprise me. I knew most high school girls did that now.

A minute or two later, she stopped dancing, took out the earphones, and set the iPod on her nightstand. After lifting her t-shirt up and off, she undid her bra and let it fall to the floor. This left her completely nude.

She stepped out of my view for a moment, and I wondered what she was doing. Perhaps she was looking at her reflection in the full-length mirror on the back of her bedroom door. I couldn’t tell from my vantage point. Anyway, she soon returned. I watched as she lay down on the open bed, on her back, and began to play with herself.

God, I was insane with lust. I was actually seeing it! My beautiful teenage daughter was masturbating, and I was watching her. I slid one hand inside my shorts, the other under my tank top. My pussy was very wet, my nipples stiff and throbbing.

Hallie started with her hands on her small breasts, fingers caressing her nipples. Her head was on the pillow, eyes closed. I saw her licking her lips as the tips of her fingers teased and circled her swollen nipples. Her legs were crossed, thighs squeezed tightly together, scissoring.

I moved up closer to the crack in the closet door, carefully easing it open a little wider. I had to be able to see better. If Hallie happened to look in that direction, she’d probably discover me hiding there, but by then I didn’t care much about that. My lust was nearly out of control.

As I watched, she pulled up her knees, spreading her slim legs, both hands slowly sliding down to her crotch. She stroked her smooth shaved mound, then used her fingers to part her labia. I could clearly see moisture glistening inside, and it made my mouth water.

My own clit felt huge under my fingers, slippery with my juices. I knew I couldn’t make myself come, couldn’t take the chance of getting caught. But it would have been so easy, so very easy. I was right on the edge.

Hallie’s eyes were still closed. She licked her lips as she played with her pussy, and it looked as if she might be whispering something, but I couldn’t make out what it was. I saw her slowly push a finger inside herself, and I did the same thing in the closet, imitating her, mother and daughter both fucking our cunts.

I heard a gasp, a groan. Her whole body shuddered. I didn’t think she’d come yet, not quite yet, but it seemed that she was very close, almost there.

Then suddenly she surprised me. She turned over onto her belly. Both hands were still between her legs. She began moving, slowly at first, humping her fingers, then gradually faster, faster, faster. I heard her panting, moaning, and murmuring to herself again. I thought I could even smell her juices.  Jesus, I was so close. I needed to come so badly, but didn’t dare.

Hallie groaned and moaned, humping her hands, grinding on her fingers. She went on like this for another minute or so, then changed position once again, now getting up onto her knees. She was half-facing toward the closet door. I could see her breasts, could see that she was fucking herself, and I could hear her saying something as well.

Now I could definitely hear what it was. In time with the thrust of her fingers inside her wet pussy, my daughter was gasping, “Mom — Mom — Mom!”

And then she came.
 

Hallie climaxed, and I did too. I didn’t mean to, but I couldn’t help it. When I saw her come, I came at the same time.

But she must have heard me. I was too loud.

As my daughter’s orgasm subsided, she looked up, finding me framed inside the now wide-open closet door. She seemed startled at first… and then she smiled.

Continue on to Part Two