Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

By eloquent delinquent

In the cramped bathroom Charlotte and Megan furiously fluff themselves dry, bare shoulders and elbows and bottoms bumping as they do, and in moments they are giddy, silly, gusts of giggles filling the room. Charlotte’s smile is just stuck to her face, and Megan’s beaming right back at her. As they hang the towels, she can’t remember ever being so happy. She glows.

With a wild smile, Megan declares, “I’m never getting dressed again!” and runs naked from the bathroom to her bedroom, shrieking with laughter. Charlotte gives chase, thrilling at the delicious feel of the air slipping over her bare body on her brief trip through Amy’s house.

She finds the nude 8-year-old kneeling on the bed, bouncing on it, blonde curls dancing like crazy. Charlotte laughingly says, “Get your jammies on.”

“Never!” comes the defiant response.

“Really?” Charlotte scans through the mess on the floor for Megan’s giant blue t-shirt, spots it and snatches it up.

“Never! No clothes on forever!” still bouncing, now on hands and knees, watchfully eyeing her babysitter through the swinging curls.

Gathering the fabric from hem toward the sleeves, holding it out like a net, Charlotte says, “I’ll have to catch you then!”

Megan just giggles louder.

Charlotte inches slowly toward the bed, Megan bounces faster in her excitement, and with a rush the naked 12-year-old leaps onto the mattress and Megan. The younger girl screams with distress and delight as Charlotte uses her larger body to trap her own squirming one, and gradually, with much rubbing and tickling, wrestles her into the shirt. As the babysitter tugs the hem down over Megan’s bottom, the two push apart and sit up at opposite ends of the bed, panting and giggling at each other.

“Megan, Megan,” Charlotte says as the younger girl quiets down. “Remember, you have to keep this a secret.”

“Because it’s sexy, right?”

“What?” She’s flummoxed. She never thought about what they were doing with that word. It was something the Reverend used, and it was always bad. ‘Sexy’ was how they tempted you to buy stuff on TV. ‘Sexy’ was something wives did to distract their husbands from Important Things.

“Sexy stuff is a secret,” Megan says in a singsong way, scooting a bit and lifting the covers.

“That’s right. It has to be a secret. Okay?”

The younger girl shimmies her way into bed, saying, “I like it being a secret. Then it’s only for you and me.”

Charlotte squeezes Megan’s ankle through the covers and gets up. “Okay.”

“If secret time means we get to take off all our clothes and touch each other, I wanna have lots of secrets.”

Charlotte giggles, very much aware of how naked she is, now that Megan’s covered up. “We’ll see.”

Megan suddenly looks stricken. “I won’t see you tomorrow. Mom has Saturdays off.”

“I’ll see you at Congregation on Sunday.”

“Not like this,” she pouts.

Charlotte squats down and rests her chin on the mattress. “I’ll check with your mom and see when she works again. I want to babysit you as bad as you do.”

Megan smiles in a really melty way and Charlotte leans over and kisses her on the mouth, lingering there for one breath, two, three, and finally parting. “Go to sleep, butterfly.”

“You’re my butterfly,” she replies.

“You want the door open again?”

“Please, just a little.” She starts. “My glasses. I left them out in the living room.”

“I’ll get them.” Charlotte pads down the hall, and as she passes Amy’s open bedroom she feels this crazy urge to sneak in while she’s still naked and just… just… roll all over her bed and press her body against her clothes. It sends a shiver through her. Could I do it? Is there time? She doesn’t see the mischievous grin that crosses her face at the thought, her slim gait slowing.

She plucks the little glasses off the coffee table and is stunned when headlights sweep over the front window. She freezes in fear for a breathless moment, then ducks behind the couch, clutching her blouse off the back where it’s been hastily thrown. Heart pounding, she struggles to get the sleeves pulled right side out, then wrenches it on. Oh! No bra, no bra! No time!

Peeking up, Charlotte darts around the edge of the sofa and can just barely reach her skirt. She snatches it and squirms her bare rump on the floor as she pulls it up. She hears the muffled sound of a car door closing, pops up, and dashes to her book bag, heaves it onto the couch. Grabbing her white bra and panties, she jams them deep into the bag and zips it shut.

From the bedroom, “Charlotte?”

She gets the glasses and scurries to Megan, setting them on her cluttered nightstand. “Your mom’s home,” she whispers urgently. “Pretend you’re asleep.” She snaps off the light and draws the door almost shut.

As she’s emerging from the hall, Amy comes in, carrying a couple grocery bags. “Let me set these down and we’ll go, okay?”

“Okay, I’ll, um, get my shoes on.”

Amy nods absently on the way to the kitchen. She’s on the sofa tying the laces when Megan’s mom comes back to the living room. “How was she?”

So amazing! she thinks, but she says, “Good. A little bit excited, maybe?”

“How could she not be?” Amy replies, settling next to her on the couch. “After that thing with the butterflies? I’ve never seen her more thrilled.”

“Yeah, it was cool.”

“It was beautiful, and you’re impressive.” Charlotte blushes enormously, which Amy notices with an amused grin and it just makes her blush more. “I just hope the pictures come out.”

“Oh yeah, you have one of those old-fashioned cameras. The kind with the film.”

Amy chuckles, “The kind with the film. I develop them right in the laundry room.”

“I’d really like to see them.”

“I’ll show you when they’re done.” Charlotte sits up, and sees Amy alertly scanning the room, as if she’s noticed something out of place. She desperately tries to think of anything they could have moved and can’t, and worry yawns open inside her.

Amy comes back to herself and just says, “Ready?”
In the car, Charlotte is keenly aware that she has no underwear on. It’s another secret, and it feels as naughty as the others, guilty and exciting. If only Amy unbuttoned my blouse, she thinks. If only she pulled up my skirt. Then she would know. She fidgets, presses her bottom into the seat, feels the denim against her tender kitty and a little lusciousness pulses up, like she just ate a spoonful of ice cream.

Amy’s telling her about how she got into photography in high school, that she was on the school paper and just kept with it. Most of the equipment she has is left over from when she was a teenager. Charlotte listens, but just barely, while looking at Amy, her image shifting under the streetlights, and she pushes her bottom down again, her kitty sinking into the plushness of the seat. Oh, oh. If only she felt me underneath my top. She does it again. Ice cream. Imagining Amy as a high schooler, imagining Amy as young as herself. She does it again. Mmf. Watching her big green eyes when the glare leaves her glasses, watching her mouth move. She does it again. Secret.

“Would you like that?” Amy asks.

Maybe she was listening less than barely. “What?”

“How to work the camera. I want to show Megan when she’s a little older, so she can show me all the birds she’s always telling me about.” Amy grins. “You’d be good practice for me.”

“Sure.”

“Was Megan trying to braid your hair again?”

“Hmm?”

“It’s still sorta wet, and falling apart.”

Charlotte reaches up, and sure enough it’s a total wreck, slouching down lopsidedly above the nape of her neck, long red-brown strands dangling all around her ears and temples. She laughs nervously as she feels around, “Yeah,” she says, but she’s thinking that with everything she got up to tonight, she’s amazed it’s still up at all.

“You’d better fix it before I get you home. Your mom will think I’ve got you cleaning chimneys or something.”

They’re already partway up Pine Street, so Amy pulls over and says, “There’s a mirror on the visor.”

Charlotte pulls it down and her eyes widen. “What a bird’s nest.” She starts taking out the clips, setting them in a little line on the dashboard.

Amy shifts the book bag sitting between them and unzips it. “Do you have a brush?”

Her heart is in her throat when she says, too loudly, “I’ll get it!”

“No, it’s okay,” Amy soothes, reaching in. Charlotte’s hands have stopped, she’s looking at the bag with something close to terror. If only she pulls out my undies. This is nothing like her fantasy. She feels her fingers trembling in her hair.

As she’s feeling around, Amy’s shapely eyebrows knit, then arch, and she pulls Charlotte’s brush out and sets it on the dash. “Here.”

She tries not to let her breath out in one great gust of relief, and goes back to work. After a few minutes of fingering through the tangles, and snarling passes with the brush, it starts to comb out smooth.

Amy sighs. “You hair is lovely, so long and straight. I always wanted hair like that.”

Charlotte grins helplessly and feels the heat in her cheeks again. “Thank you.”

“That’s what I love and hate about the Church. They tell you not to cut your hair, so it gets long and beautiful, but then they tell you to coop it all up in a knot on your head.” She shrugs. “It’s kinda full of shhh… shuffleboard.”

Teasing laughter bursts from the 12-year-old. “You almost said a naughty word!”

“But I didn’t!” the young mother defends amiably. “I have to do that a lot. Curbing my naughtier tendencies is kind of a constant thing in my life.”

“Yeah, you kinda get used to it here.”

“Do you?” Amy playfully challenges, and Charlotte shrinks back, blushing and giggling like a moron. She awkwardly finishes brushing out her hair and it makes her feel a little weird how Amy is watching her. It’s not like her own mom. Not bad weird. Fluttery.

She’s reaching out for the hair clips when Amy says, “Wait.” She hesitates, glancing sidelong, when she feels Amy’s fingers in her hair, coursing through the length of it.

“I hope it’s okay,” Amy says, reaching in and running through it again. Her touch is gentle and firm, tingling sensations run all through Charlotte’s scalp and down her spine. “It’s just so lovely.”

“Um. Um, yeah,” Charlotte breathes, feeling so light and dizzy. “It’s fine.”

“Thank you,” she says, continuing to stroke. “Isn’t it true, girls with curly hair always want straight hair, and girls with straight hair always want curly hair?”

Charlotte makes a noise that’s half chuckle, half sigh. “Your… your hair is pretty, too.”

“Aw, thanks. But I can never let it down anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

Amy releases Charlotte’s hair and reaches up to her own, removing the two pins that are holding it up. She looks at the babysitter and says, “Watch.” The ‘do tumbles and unfurls in an avalanche of snaky blonde twists.

Charlotte stares with a little pleased smile. “It’s really pretty.”

Amy gets a wry grin on her lips and then shakes her head. The curls fly everywhere and remind her of Megan bouncing on the bed just a little bit ago. When Amy stops, her face is almost obscured behind a curtain of loose golden ringlets. “It’s wild! I look like a sheepdog.” And then she shakes her head again and laughs in a way that sounds really girlish to Charlotte.

When she stops, a playful smile behind that wild hair, it’s not so hard for Charlotte to imagine Amy in high school.

“You do,” Charlotte nods, “Like a blonde sheepdog.” They giggle some more, and as they quiet, she finds the older woman’s fingers running another long pass through her hair.

“I just couldn’t help myself. You’re so adorable, but I don’t want to make you nervous. I’m not, am I?”

She sees something so sweet, so vulnerable, in Amy’s face when she asks this, that Charlotte’s heart swells. She stares into Amy’s eyes, but no words come. She places her hand over Amy’s, drawing it slowly down the length of her hair.

Amy’s lips part, and they’re just trapped in each other for a moment. Charlotte’s heart thumps, her bare, hard nipples scratch maddeningly against her blouse. Finally, Amy withdraws her hand and averts her gaze, head cocking a little like she just remembered something.

“Okay,” Amy says. “We’re both undone. Let’s fix it.” She blows a few ringlets out of her face, but they stubbornly spring right back where they were.

They laugh at that, then Charlotte reaches out and takes the clips off the dashboard.

* * *

She never thought a week could pass so slowly.

Amy wouldn’t work again when Charlotte could babysit until the following Thursday at 4:00, and since then, she’s kept up with her old routine, but it just isn’t the same. Now she has something more, and it aches to wait.

Saturday she meets with her best friends Sarah and Bethany after they all have choir practice together. Normally they would go to Sarah’s dad’s shop and listen to non-religious songs like Taylor Swift or Carrie Underwood or Faith Hill, then sing their own versions. Charlotte likes to listen to Sarah McLachlan, but she can’t really sing it. It’s forbidden, she supposes, but everybody knows everybody does it.

That day, though, the other girls get to gossiping about older boys, especially the rumors swirling around Noah Watts and Jenny Dwyer, and she just lets herself fade into the background. It all sounds so mean-spirited, as if Sarah and Bethany are almost hoping the young couple will get caught making a terrible mistake. She nods in the right places, but all this gossipy stuff is new to her, it makes her uneasy, and she doesn’t really like it. She makes an excuse to go home, and dawdles around the public park, the boys playing baseball on one diamond, the girls playing softball on the other. She kind of pretends to watch, but she mostly thinks about Megan and Amy.

She spends a lot of her time that week thinking about Megan and Amy.

Sunday is Congregation, with prayer meeting after lunch. The sermon is from John 18, when Simon Peter denies knowing Jesus. Reverend Bealing tells them that the denial of righteousness is sin, to continue in sin is to omit Jesus from your heart. Charlotte looks away feeling just awful, twining her fingers together in her lap. But later she sings in the choir and sees her new blonde friends sitting in the audience. Megan smiles at her, a big gleaming smile just for her, and she feels lifted inside. It’s all so confusing.

Then it’s the school week, and her time is even more regimented. It’s spring for real now, and lots of kids are getting rowdy, acting up, making trouble. Charlotte’s dreaminess and lack of attention go unnoticed in class.

At home it’s different. Charlotte’s mom is reprimanding her more than usual, and Charlotte feels terribly guilty because she knows she’s earning it. The only night that goes well is Monday, because it’s her turn to make supper, and cooking is one of the few things she really, really enjoys that her mom approves of. Otherwise, she’s a bit of a mess and she can’t seem to fix it. Her chores are done sloppily, she’s wool gathering when she should be studying. She forgets things constantly. She forgot her Bible for Bible study – Bible study, of all things – and had to go back home to get it, making herself late.

It’s all super embarrassing.

Of course, Amy is at Bible study. It’s kind of weird to see her now, in her white blouse and ankle-length denim skirt, but when she’s at Church she dresses the same as everybody else. They don’t speak, other than to say a friendly hello, and at first, Charlotte’s hurt by this. But then she notices that Amy doesn’t speak much to anyone at study. And no one really speaks to her. They sit in that circle of chairs in the classroom facing each other, but it’s like no one sees Amy. As they’re following passages in the Scripture, Charlotte occasionally glances up, and once or twice Amy looks back and gives her this little, sweet grin and Charlotte feels all warm and glowy and Amy really likes her after all. What’s happening with Amy at study is something strange and grownup, but Charlotte still doesn’t know what or why.

It’s another kind of secret. Her life seems to be filling with secrets. Gentle and quiet, Charlotte keeps them all. But inside, there’s so much confusion and longing and joy and need and guilt, it’s no wonder she’s distracted. She likes Megan so much. But what she’s doing with her is so bad. But Megan liked it and asked for it. But after they did it she knew they had to hide it. But how can it be bad when it makes them feel so good? But what if she’s just making Megan worse, by helping her be bad the same way she’s bad? But she only wants her to be happy. But what about the way she feels about Amy? But how does Amy feel about her? But what if she found out about Megan, what then? But what if feeling like that about Amy is mean to Megan?

But, but, but.

Even more difficult to manage than the secrets, though, is her body.

Since her nights with Megan, it’s like the urgency of her body, an almost desperate need to be touched and stroked and gratified, has taken control of most of her waking life. Because woven through these days and nights of routine, hidden away in the moments no one sees, is the touching, or thinking about touching, or wanting so bad not to think about touching, or needing to touch herself and not being able to. She really, really wants to be good (at least when Megan’s not around), but she’s never needed to be bad in the closet like she does now.

On Saturday she snuck in twice; once when it was barely light in the morning, before anyone else was up, and again that night. She’s never needed it twice in one day, but that night she was in there for almost half an hour, nightdress up to her chin, face down in her loose shoes squeezing her little breasts while her fingers desperately stroked that slick, delicious, demanding cleft between her legs, and it seemed like barely long enough, even after she got the shock.

Monday at school was the most troubling. She still can’t remember what came first – that warm, tender feeling dampening her underpants, or imagining Amy undressing her, caressing what she uncovered. But once those feelings started, they wouldn’t stop. All day. She wriggled around in her seat, trying to find a way to sit that wasn’t frustratingly sensitive, but it didn’t help. In her stall in the girl’s room, she felt her little kitty, and it was so wet, so eager for her touch, it was scary.

When she finally got home she scurried through the house upstairs without even checking who was home, and went straight into the closet, pulling the door nearly shut and squatting in the dark, forcing the hung clothes to either side as she attacked her skirt and plunged her fingers into her panties. And oh, oh, the pleasure of her first touch after so much waiting just melted her, she rolled her head back into her clothes and let her hips pump themselves into her waiting fingertips, hardly able to catch her breath, so frantic, so naughty, so bad. And, ooo, uhmm, so close.

She heard the clomping boots approach and she froze, eyes snapping open and staring anxiously through the crack as Jodie came into the room through its always open door. Her 9-year-old sister clomped to a stop, and stood there, puzzled. Charlotte’s hips, only knowing her body’s need, began to gently rock the slick lips of her kitty against her paralyzed hand, and she realized that she couldn’t stop, couldn’t, not even with her little sister right there. She felt ashamed as her hand began to rub at the hot little button at the top of her kitty seemingly on its own, helplessly giving the bad touching to herself.

Jodie looked over her shoulder at the open doorway, then back, her sandy brown bob swishing around her head, then she tromped two more steps into the room, out of Charlotte’s sight and said, “Charlotte?”

Despite the startling intrusion, hearing her own name called somehow only made her more excited, and suddenly and inexplicably she was just as close, just as hot, as before. Jodie stepped back into view, and in that unbearably naughty moment Charlotte thought that even her sister looked touchable, it might just be fun stroking those strong little legs up underneath her denim skirt, Jodie might just be curious if Charlotte slid that skirt up to her hips, she might just enjoy a gentle rub on her panties…

Jodie shrugged and left the room, thumping down the stairs, and Charlotte closed her eyes, lost in her bad, bad thoughts, in the sensations she gave her wet little pink spot, and the shock swept in, hips jolting, thighs shuddering, her face pressed into the clothes to muffle her gasping moans.

Because of her close call after school, over the next couple days she tries to find other options, in the bathroom while showering, or on the toilet, but there’s not enough time and it just excites her with no finish which only makes things worse. After Monday, she tries to hold off, to keep the thoughts in check, but by Wednesday before supper she’s back in the closet on her knees, dreaming of Megan’s golden body against her, her bad fingers fiddling down there when she should be studying.

Naughtiness of every kind crowds her head, and the more she denies it, the stronger it comes. She never knows when it might happen – walking to school, at the dinner table, with the good book in her lap in the circle of seats at Bible study. Thoughts she never imagined before now flare up, fully formed, without her ever having considered them. Smooth sweaty bodies moving and pressing against each other, hair falling onto her skin, skimming over her. Kisses all over, how they might feel, how they might taste. Sighs and cries and urgent pleas. And the smell, that secret scent that comes from being naughty, rising from between aroused legs or lingering on slippery hands or drifting from a darkened door that’s been left open, just a little.

Oh the thoughts are bad, so, so bad, and she never asked for them. They come to her anyway, showing her wicked things, reminding her how bad she really is. But when she’s in the midst of them, they seem more like promises. She’s humiliated by how much she likes them, how much she looks forward to them.

And all this she keeps hidden from view. Sometimes she hears Megan’s little singsong, ‘Sexy stuff is a secret’. She wonders where the girl heard it. She wonders if she can do it, in the face of how unmanageable her naughtiness is becoming. She wonders what happens if she can’t. And then she gets so scared she stops wondering altogether.

Continue on to Chapter 7