Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

By eloquent delinquent

Maybe the vow wasn’t the best idea. Maybe I should’ve known myself better. Maybe I shouldn’t have nursed Bianca on my lap while I lazily stroked off watching porn, but I got such intense orgasms doing it. Maybe I should’ve noticed how long I spent wiping and oiling her chubby vagina and pink anus after I’d given my baby her bath. Maybe leaning in to sniff her tiny clean privates should’ve given me pause. Maybe I thought I had it under control, she was my own daughter, so what could really happen?

Things like this didn’t get serious for me until Bianca was finishing potty training, so she must’ve been about three and a half. Like most toddlers, learning to use the toilet really heightened her awareness of her body. And like me, that awareness led her to discover the good feelings she could get by touching her soft little puss. She took to it unabashedly, and I can’t count the number of times I opened a door or turned a corner to find my baby girl fully dressed with her trainers pushed down past her knees, happily petting between her plump legs. Sometimes she squirmed and gurgled on her back, and others I’d discover her standing there, hips rocking into her little hand as she did it, one finger in her mouth, eyes distant, sighing.

Confronted with her innocently sexual behavior, I spun into a terrible confusion. I agonized, agonized, over what to do about it. Should I stop her? But if I did, would she turn out like I did, clandestinely curious, obsessed with nudity and privates? Should I let her go on? But if I did that, where would it end? Would it at all? Did any other mothers ever let that happen? What would people say? What would someone else think, or do, if they caught her at it?

By not deciding, I tacitly left her to keep touching. I avoided her during her sessions, refusing to confront or even acknowledge her behavior, quickly exiting when I barged in on her playing with herself down there. At least that’s what I told myself, deliberately editing out all the times I lingered in doorways or watched quietly from a distance, until I roused myself and moved on.

And though I barely admitted it, seeing Bianca pleasuring herself made me terribly excited, reminding me of my past joys. Little girls undressing for me and letting me look, those happy bath times when I babysat, the lasciviously playful Halliday twins, all of it coming together in my mind.

As my daughter became more active, I got more secretive, and took to furtively masturbating in the bathroom or bedroom like a stereotypical teen, guiltily and frequently. After my enormous, clenching orgasms, I’d conveniently forget what I’d been fantasizing about.

Part of what had happened was that her potty training was almost done, trainers only needed for the occasional mishap. I suppose she could’ve changed herself, but I still took care of it for her, and I imagine there was another red flag in that, too. That secret place between her legs stopped being associated with a messy chore for me, and instead I came to see it as enthralling, the center for her simple, bodily joy.

And it was during one of these unnecessary changing sessions that all of it came to a head. Looking back, I don’t know how else I thought it’d end up.

It was a spring day, and I’d seen her just moments before lying in the sunny spot cast by the window onto the carpet, dress pulled up and trainers pushed down, pale body exposed from nipples to knees, eagerly diddling her sweet spot. She faced into the light, eyes closed with a little, kitten-like smile on her lips. I called Bianca into her room, and when she came in she pulled her jumper dress off over her head, and wearing only her training pants she playfully jumped up on a changing table that was getting a little bit small for her, opening her legs wide.

I followed the same routine as always, except now when her trainers came off she was completely nude. I tried to ignore my thumping heart, suppressed what I’d seen happening on that sunny floor. She was clean, as she almost always was any more, except that her dainty pussy was a blushing, vivid pink and seemed a little damp. I used the wipes I always used, and spent a lot of time tenderly, luxuriously tracing her smooth intimate parts with them. Bianca squirmed and cooed excitedly, but I was in a kind of trance, the kind of trance I should’ve recognized.

With a strange kind of panicked keenness, I watched my infant daughter’s hand steal down, cover her little crease, and begin to rub it. My own fingers were just below hers, still wiping her tiny, thoroughly cleansed anal pucker, and I thoughtlessly matched my movements between her butt cheeks to the rhythm she used as she pet herself. I couldn’t look away from the way our hands moved in tandem, pleasing her delighted privates.

Bianca stretched and gave a high pitched sigh, the same as she did sometimes when she woke from a nap, and I glanced up her naked little body to her face. She was looking at me, and our eyes locked, hers studying me seriously. And I knew this was the moment, I couldn’t avoid this behavior any more, she was doing it right in front of me and awaiting my judgment. I saw her face, the high bright blush of her cheeks, the way her eyebrows knitted and arched as new sensations shimmered up her body, and her mouth, open in a slight smile, tip of her glistening little tongue resting on her lower lip. I saw beauty, I saw arousal, but more than anything, I saw joy.

My joyful Bianca, experiencing a pleasure like love, like the love I felt for her.

I found myself nodding, and smiling, and saying, “Honey, honey, that’s so pretty. You’re such a pretty girl. Does it feel good, honey? Does it feel good to touch like that?”

She moaned a little girl moan and nodded her head, her smile widening.

“You can give yourself touches, honey. Momma says it’s okay. If it feels good, honey, Momma says touching it is okay. Ooo, honey, that’s it, so pretty, you have the good touches.”

With my attention, my approval, I saw her excitement grow. And now that I’d admitted I liked what she was doing, my acceptance of it, I noticed what was happening to my own body, watching her. My breasts were terribly sensitive, nipples poking through my knit tank top and scratching against the fabric enticingly. Inside my yoga pants my pussy was swollen and juicy, my clit seeming to almost sparkle in its arousal. My cheeks were hot, I was horny as fuck.

I felt sexual desire for my own three year old daughter. That final admission frightened me, delighted me, confused me. At last, I was being honest with myself, and it was kind of overwhelming. Any thoughts I had were swamped by the need to feel, to touch.

Letting the baby wipe drop to the table, I slid my fingers from her tiny asshole up over her little slit, brushing her own hand back. She whined a little, looking at me questioningly as I babbled, “You want me to help you, honey? You want me to make you feel good? Should I touch you honey?”

Then I settled my hand onto her hot, slippery, exquisite girlish pussy, and I let out a heartfelt sigh of relief. Bianca’s eyes widened in surprise, but as I nestled one finger into her almost impossibly small, soft, tender folds, her eyes went unfocused in sheer pleasure. It was the first time someone else had touched her, and I knew how powerful that feeling was. Probing gently, I sensed the firm little bead of her tiny clit, and began to mimic her motion from my new, more provocative position in her crease.

Her legs twitched. Her head dropped back onto the table. She gurgled and breathed out, “Momma, mmm Momma…”

As I gently masturbated my little girl, my free hand thrust down the waistband of my yoga pants, twisted its way through my panties, and suddenly ecstasy surged outward from my own overexcited cunt, two fingers curled deep inside me while the pad of my thumb wiggled firmly on my clit. My own eyelids drooped, but I couldn’t stop looking at Bianca’s reaction to my touch.

“Ohh honey yes, the touches are so good, so pretty honey ahhh let me touch it, let me rub it honey let me rub you, such a good girl honey such a good good girl…”

I could sense my orgasm building almost immediately, but the sensations got stronger and stronger without breaking, and I realized it was because somehow my body was waiting for Bianca.

Her back arched, her whole body tensing. Her legs shivered. I trembled on the very edge, too, my breath caught, pressing but not moving my fingers in my blazing pussy.

I’ve read that children can’t cum, but with what I’ve seen in my life I’ll never believe that. Bianca had an orgasm, a little girl-gasm, on that changing table. Her body thrust and quivered, her eyes squeezed shut while her little mouth opened wide, her toes curled. I felt the gentle contractions of her pussy on my fingertip. It may not have been as intense as what happens to adults, but as it released her, I could tell what my daughter experienced was nothing short of heavenly.

Her little girl cum unleashed my all-grown-up one, and I clamped my thighs around my hand as I jerked and shuddered deeply, that sugar sweet storm billowing up through my belly and bursting in the top of my head. My ass flexed, humping my fingers. I kind of tipped over and pressed my cheek against Bianca’s fleshy leg as this intense joy coursed through me, eyes rolled up, lids fluttering.

“Uh! Yes, honey yes, oh honey, Hnn! Oh fuck, ohh yeah oh yeah honey feel it, the good pretty feelings, mmm fuck such a pretty girl, Momma loves you, ohhhh Momma loves you honey…”

My little girl and I shared an orgasm together. It was the most staggering, unexpected thing I’d ever felt. She had the cutest look on her face, cross-eyed and blissed. I glanced down at her bare tiny honeypot, pink and wet, the source of what had happened bewteen us, and I did what came most naturally to me.

I bent slightly and kissed her pussy.

She reacted with shrieking giggles, as if I’d tickled her. She must’ve been very sensitive there. The laughter quickly trailed off into panting, and she lifted her head and focused on me. Her gaze was intense and a little inscrutable, but in my horny state of mind I chose to think she was seeing me as a sexual being for the first time. I couldn’t help myself, I licked my lips and tasted the light tanginess of my daughter. Then I brought my sticky hand up out of my pants and up to my mouth, felt the grin on my lips, and smelled the wetness from my own cunt. Similar. I slid them quickly into my mouth and sucked them clean.

Bianca’s watchful gaze on me didn’t change. My emotions cooling, I felt a pang.

Quickly, reality set in. I still needed to change her and get her dressed, and those mundane acts got me thinking like a mother rather than a frustrated sex maniac. What had I done? What was I thinking?! It would’ve been bad enough just condoning her masturbation, letting her play with herself right in front of me. What mother allows that?! But no, I’d gone even further.

Once again, my horniness and poor impulse control had led the way, but this time it was incest. Incest! And not like the Halliday girls, all innocent and playful. I was old enough to know better. I was Bianca’s mother, responsible for protecting her, and I’d just sexually fondled her, and then masturbated myself like I was a 14 year old babysitter again. Oh god, incest with your sexually curious infant daughter sounded so terrible (but secretly still a little hot), and I felt like a monster.

The rest of that day, I was in a tumult. Bon-Bon wanted lots of cuddles, which she got because between my maternal instinct and my sexual release, I physically could not refuse. I needed to hold her soft warm little body as much as she wanted to be held. But even as I stroked her back and kissed her hair, I couldn’t help wonder if her need for closeness and comfort was a symptom of some trauma I’d inflicted, if our dirty moment would mar her idea of me.

The changing table couldn’t be avoided, but I put it off for so long that night that she was half-asleep when I finally did it, yawning hugely with her hand cupping her mouth. I was nervously efficient, not doing more than a clinical job of it. As I gave her the most routine wiping, my eyes lingered on her naked groin and my pussy fluttered against my will. There was sweat on my upper lip.

When it was done she toddled to her bed, and I watched her go, wondering, how long could I keep doing this and acting like I didn’t feel anything?

Back then, I never could have guessed that that anxious day would lead to this one. I would’ve recoiled from it in horrified fascination. My imagination simply couldn’t handle the thought of me like this, turning my cart down the quiet kitchen gadgets aisle, my hand hidden, one fingertip snug inside the slick heat of my daughter’s happy quim, her blushing face transported with an urgent, climbing pleasure. But as I drift to a stop, knowing I’m about to bring my little girl to orgasm in public for the first time, I’m grateful to whatever path led me here.

Bianca senses the cart’s stopped, and her eyelids lift drowsily as she struggles to focus on me. But down below, her hips don’t pause in the slightest, maintaining their primal rhythm, gently rocking down onto the hand that’s bringing her so much delight.

I speed up the stroking of my fingertip until I’m rubbing her tender flesh almost frantically. She responds, stiffening, gripping the rail of the cart tightly. Bianca takes deep, gasping breaths as she tries to keep quiet, tries to adjust to the intense sexual feelings I’m giving her. With her head bent forward, my six year old daughter looks up at me from under her bangs, eyes practically begging, her mouth open and panting.

“Yeah, mmm, mmm! Hnh Momma ah,” she whispers tightly.

This eye contact sparks something deep inside me, I’m mesmerized by the depth of desire I see in my little girl, her craving for me to stimulate her, to satisfy her. My cunt and asshole both throb steadily, begging for touches of their own. I’m halfway convinced I can smell myself, I’m so soaked between my legs. This is my terrible, joyous secret – I love my baby’s arousal, love that she turns to me with her desires, love that we share her delights, love touching her little, eager body and giving her grown-up pleasures. She turns me on as much as any ever lover ever has.

Carried away by my own erotic thoughts, I apply more pressure to her steamy slit, to the point where I’m almost lifting her up by her quim, sinking into it. Her entire pelvis quivers, her breath catches. Her eyelids blink heavily, then close, while her mouth opens wider, wider, an almost disbelieving look on her face.

Then, with what is unmistakably a sexual cry despite its girlish pitch, my little Bon-Bon cums, thrusting down hard into my hand, legs shooting out straight, shuddering, then the heels of her boots kick against the cart and lock there. She’s got my wrist pinned into the leg divider and I can feel the pulses of her orgasm on my fingertip, feel her twitches and trembles in my palm as I cup the soft hot flesh of her mound.

Her eyes are squeezed tightly shut now, as the overwhelming pleasure erupts in her brain. But the corners of her wide open mouth are rising, the ecstatic smile I always love to see, so proud my little girl gets so much joy from the way her Mom finger-fucks her.

With a breathy giggle she suddenly squirms back from my hand, just as ticklishly sensitive as ever after her intense little cummie. It’s only as she keeps giggling and looks at me, great mischievous happiness on her rosy face, that it occurs to me that I’m still standing on a supermarket aisle, that I just gave my daughter an orgasm right next to the cheese slicers and ice cream scoops. I guiltily glance all around us, but although people pass by the end of the aisle, the coast is still clear.

Giving her one last hidden squeeze down there, I ask, “How was that, Bon-Bon? Is that what you wanted this morning?”

She sighs, nods, “Oh yeah. I need your honey loves sometimes, I just need it.”

I trail my hand down the inside of her leg, withdrawing. “Did you have a good cummie for me?”

She smiles brightly, bounces. “So good! Doing it here, being naughty here, the way you do the honey loves for me, it feels so, oh my gosh so good.”

I grin proudly at her as my hand emerges from under her dress. I lift it to my nose and gently sniff Bianca’s sweetly musky pussy. It creates desires that are even more inappropriate for the public. But that smell, oh fuck that little girl smell, it makes me feel so naughty.

I’m stirred from my thoughts by Bon-Bon saying, “Momma, can I, please?” I glance down at her and see she’s focused on the same thing I am.

“Momma, please?” she repeats softly.

Shrugging, I lower my hand to her face, and she lightly takes mine with both of hers and guides it til my dirty fingertip is just below her nose. Daintily closing her eyes, she inhales, and the scent of her own wet pussy brings a secretive little grin to her lips. She loves the way she smells.

And tastes, I note as she ducks her head down, covers my finger with her lips, and begins to suck. I feel her wet tongue busily licking the pad of my finger while her wide eyes peer left and right, looking for anyone who might interrupt her treat.

Feeling the play of her warm wet mouth on my hand, the thought of the smell and taste of cunt bounding through my mind, sensing the aching need in my panties, I find my body making a decision for me, as it so frequently does.

“Bon-Bon, I think Momma needs private time with you right now.”

Her brown eyes show only curiosity. With a slurp, she removes my finger from her mouth and simply asks, “But how?”

Continue on to Chapter 4