Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

Still numb with the fading ecstasy from the orgasm I’d just given myself, we sneaked back to the tent. Mom lit the lamp and we sat down on our chairs. I was spent.

“Nightcap?” Mom asked and opened a bottle of wine.

I nodded. She looking at me in an odd way and I realized I was doing the same too. She poured me a cup of wine.

“I hope I didn’t spoil your private moment, but I, well I just had to watch, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I said, knowing that her being there had made the experience better. But how could I tell her that?

The first raindrops started to hit the tent. Another thunder rolled through the valley, much louder now. We were in for a thunderstorm, I realized. I hoped that that the tent would hold under the forces of nature. Mom looked repentant and took a sip from her wine. I took a sip of mine and wrestled with its alien taste.

I thanked God that the rain and thunder drowned out the uncomfortable silence that hung in the tent like a moist summer heat that just wouldn’t go away. Through the fabric of the tent I saw the lightning flash.

Eventually we finished our wine, turned down the gaslight and went back to bed. The storm raged on in full force and tugged at our tent.

We couldn’t sleep because of the noise and stared at the ceiling.

“I’m sorry,” I heard my mom say.

I sighed. “It’s okay, Mom. Honest, I’m not upset! Really, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not,” I heard her say. She turned away from me and started to cry.

I touched her shoulder. “It’s okay, Mom, I won’t tell anyone,” I said, safe in the knowledge that we wouldn’t be heard above the noise of the storm that raged overhead.

“I feel like a pervert,” she cried.

“Yeah, well, not many mothers touch themselves with their daughters,” I conceded, “but it was a lot of fun. And I really liked to watch Valerie and Carmen have sex,” I added. “It was just an accident. It was just coincidence that you were there with me. I mean, I wanted to masturbate anyway.”

My mom let out a laugh in between sobs. “Oh, honey.”

I continued. “I’m cool about it, so why aren’t you? I’m not offended, it happened, it won’t happen again. Listen, we’ll just draw up a schedule. You’ll take a peek tomorrow, I will the day after that and so on until we, um, get lucky.”

Mom started to laugh in earnest. I touched her shoulder reassuringly. “If this has to end up a strange holiday, so be it. It’s not going to be a standard vacation, anyway.”

“No, it’s not,” my mom said, having regained her good mood. “Ursula is a pretty girl.”

“Yeah, she is,” I conceded, “but she’s mine,” I added in a mock-dangerous voice.

The temperature had dropped because of the wind and rain that pelted the tent. I felt my nipples stiffen.

Unexpectedly, my mom rose up and hugged me. Surprised, I let her and noted that I felt her big breasts press against my body. It didn’t feel bad at all… actually, I was glad that we seemed to be able to get close this way, in a non-sexual way, just… close.

I put my arms around her and we sat there for a while until we decided to go try and get some sleep. We zipped the sleeping bags together and turned in once more, while the storm raged on unabated.

I awoke from uneasy dreams, because I thought I’d heard someone call out our names. I jumped up and hit my head on the roof of the tent. Mom also woke up. We stumbled out of the sleeping compartment, Mom zipped open the tent and, astonished, we saw a fairy tale figure stand before us.

It was Monique, who stood in a long dress with a black cape on with a cowl over her head and an antique storm lamp in her hand.

“It is not safe here, the water from the river is rising,” she said hurriedly, I had trouble following her. Mom and I looked out the tent and saw in the near dark how the river raged way too high up the bank.

“Take what is necessary. You can stay at our house until the storm passes,” Monique said, “but be quick. Yvonne is waking the others.”

“Who…?” my mom started, perfectly befuddled.

I hurried back and said: “No time, Mom — we gotta pack some stuff!” Mom got into gear and started rummaging through our stuff in the dark.

We shut the tent and walked with Monique to the tents of the others who were also emerging under the light of Yvonne who also seemed like another stray fairy tale princess.

They led us through the forest where the trees groaned under the tempest. We ran scared until we came to the mansion, where Isabeau held open the door for us and ushered us in with her majestic voice.

There we were, dripping wet with what belongings we could grab in the panic.

“You girls, with me upstairs,” Isabeau commanded us. “I will have you take a bath and then I will give you something dry to wear before you catch a cold.”

Our mothers were too impressed by her to protest, so we followed her. The house was full of lit candles and we were back in the fairy tale again.

“What about our tents?” Valerie asked.

“You will see tomorrow. Tonight, your safety and health are more important,” Isabeau said, and that was the end of the discussion.

We were led to a long corridor on the first floor, which I remembered from before. “These will be your rooms for the night. You will find there the proper attire and have a bath. And yes, we have hot running water.” Isabeau turned to Laura. “I think you will find the bed will be big enough for you three. I wouldn’t want any of you to sleep alone in any of these rooms; its history might prove too much for you.”

“What kind of history?” Carmen asked.

Isabeau smiled darkly. “Now isn’t the time for such stories. After you’ve finished, I’m expecting you down below for a glass of wine to soothe the nerves. Tonight you are my guests, tonight the fear stays outside.” With these words she pointed our rooms out to us and walked away with her daughters.

Mom looked at me incredulously. I shrugged, and opened a bed room door.

Our mouths dropped open when we saw the room and its lush interior. On the bed we saw two linen sleeping gowns. “Oh, my God,” Mom gasped.

I opened a door that turned out to be an empty closet. The other one led to a luxurious bathroom that was built of marble. In the middle stood a big bathtub on lion’s feet. It was already filled with water. Sweet scented steam rose up from the surface. I beckoned Mom, whose eyes threatened to pop out of her head. Through the walls we heard the cries of wonder from Valerie, Louise and Laura — no doubt seeing their own sleeping quarters for the first time.

“Who’s first for the bath?” I asked.

“The tub looks big enough for two… if you don’t mind?” Mom asked hesitantly.

I shrugged. I was feeling the chill and was painfully aware that my body had started to react strongly to the sudden heat of the bathroom. My nipples ached because of the temperature shock, and I was worried that I might catch a cold. Although the thought of having to recuperate here didn’t seem so awful.

“Come on, then,” I said and stripped away my wet t-shirt. Mom nodded and followed suit. I noticed her large breasts bounce a little when she managed to wrestle herself out of the soaked top. I pulled down my panties and looked at my pubic hair. Mom had a neat trimmed stripe of hair above her vagina that exposed her lips. I saw her blush as she realized that I was staring there. I started to blush too and and walked to the bath.

Mom slowly sat down in the steaming water. Her breasts softly bobbed up and down just beneath the surface.

I just lay back and let my mind roam.

Being yanked out of my familiar surroundings I started to view myself in a very detached way. The memories of today stormed by as I lay with my head resting on the smooth curved porcelain edge of the tub.

I’d always known that I was different. I remember a niece of mine, who was a couple of years my minor, who had once said in that insipid high voice that she wanted to marry her daddy, because Daddy was the greatest, yadda yadda. I remembered realizing that I wasn’t supposed to feel that same way about Mom.

I knew I was different, the way I felt about my mother, and other women I knew… and that it wasn’t something to be proud of. I wouldn’t get a benign smile and words like: “She’s so young, yadda yadda yadda.” I would get a look of fear and disgust. I would get words like “pervert,” and “queer.” So I shut up.

“What are you thinking of?” I heard Mom say.

I mumbled something. I felt the soft flesh of her legs touch mine and enjoyed it way too much. Forget Ursula, this was way too nice. But I had to keep quiet about it.

“I feel like I walked into this fairy tale,” Mom whispered breathlessly, probably because the hot water drained away her will to stay awake.

I just held my eyes shut, too afraid that they would take a long slow stroll over her naked body. Maybe I was just jealous of the guys with whom Mom had flirted with so openly, I thought.

Jesus, I was seriously twisted. The thought of slowly slipping below the water’s surface and drowning seemed so attractive at that moment.

For how long we relaxed in the tub I don’t remember, but a discreet knock on our door brought us back to reality.

Reluctantly I opened my eyes and looked at Mom, who seemed dazed; she had probably fallen asleep. “Coming,” I called out. My arms felt numb with fatigue as I hoisted myself out of the water.

“That felt way too good,” Mom sighed as we dried ourselves. She pulled the plug out of the tub. The vulgar noise of the water running away slightly lifted the dreamlike state we were in. We walked back into the bedroom and pulled on our gowns, which were an instant joy to wear. They were wide and long.

Mom seemed to hesitate. “What?” I asked.

“I’m wondering whether I want to wear panties underneath these,” she said in a shy voice I certainly didn’t recognize. “I would feel like a barbarian.”

“I am sure we won’t be the only ones,” I said.

We giggled and left the bedroom naked under our gowns.

In the lush salon where we had had lunch that same afternoon it seemed like a eighteenth-century slumber party. All were dressed in long gowns that hid their bodily features, but the atmosphere seemed amazingly sensual.

Outside the wind howled and the rain lashed against the windows. But that world was shut out by heavy velour drapes, a cozy fire burned in the hearth.

Everyone held a wineglass in their hands and was looking tired and happy. Isabeau even seemed to have shed that majestic distant look and her eyes burned with charm and grace, like an ice queen after a hero’s kiss.

“Lovely gowns,” Mom said and accepted a glass of wine that Yvonne poured in for her.

“Flemish linen,” Isabeau said. “I have it woven by traditional method.”

She moved to make a place for Mom, who seemed enchanted. I got a glass of wine from Yvonne who smiled sweetly at me. I smiled back and sat down next to Carmen who was also seemed in a daze. I looked around the room and everyone seemed to be so relaxed that it almost became eerie. I looked at Ursula who sat on a big pillow near the fireplace. We exchanged shy glances. She looked so beautiful in a robe that flowed around her body like water.

I managed to pretend that I was looking in my glass wine — the sweetest drink I had ever tasted — but I really just wanted to check whether my hard nipples were visible through the fabric of my gown. Luckily the linen was so thick, that all I could see was an amorphous hill that stretched across my chest.

I looked up, straight into Isabeau’s eyes. Lost in the moment, I drowned there and then. She had taken hold of me and I felt naked under my gown. But not intruded upon. Isabeau smiled broadly and looked at my mom, who made a remark about the house.

We exchanged some small talk, but soon everyone was groggy. Louise had fallen asleep against her mother and Ursula was yawning.

“Maybe it’s time to go to bed,” Isabeau suggested. She stood up and, much to everyone’s surprise, picked up Louise who seemed feather-light in her arms. We walked after her and I could have sworn that every woman’s eyes were transfixed on her ass as it made a slow graceful hypnotizing dance beneath the linen.

Mom and I entered our bedroom and killed the lights. The room was pleasantly warm and we both seemed to be undecided whether to go to bed in the nude. It was so dark that I just heard my mom sigh, by the rush of linen as she cast it aside. I also took off my gown and slipped into bed.

“What a day,” I heard Mom whisper.

I turned on my side and laid a hand on her belly. “It was a weird day.”

We both giggled. She laid a hand on mine. “I love you, Rose,” she whispered.

“I love you, Mom,” I answered.

I heard and felt her move beside me. A warm breath flowed over my forehead before she kissed me there. I raised my head and kissed Mom on the lips. She didn’t move and let me kiss her.

Finally she broke our kiss. “That felt nice,” she whispered.

I felt a world of relief for her not chiding me. I tried to stare through the absolute dark when she kissed me. I felt her lips press upon mine and it felt like heaven.

A hand drew me closer to her and we were lying against each other. Her hand stroked my back and slowly I dared to touch her side. She pressed my face closer and our kiss grew more passionate. I felt the tip of her tongue on my lips and opened my mouth. Her tongue slipped in. I felt her hold me tighter as our breasts pressed against each other. I touched her tongue with mine. She gasped and we let our tongues swirl around in my mouth.

Suddenly she pulled me on top of her. I broke our kiss and I looked into the dark where her face must have been, I just couldn’t see it.

“Are you okay, honey?” she asked.

“I’m okay, Mom,” I whispered. I lay a shaking hand on her breast and felt the soft flesh and hard nipple. She lay her hands on my bottom and gave a squeeze as she pulled my body tighter to her. Mom’s breath was becoming shallow, as was mine.

I felt my clit rub over her belly. Slowly I started to grind my pelvis into her. I felt that her tummy was becoming slippery with my juices.

Hungrily she raised her head to kiss me. I felt one hand move down my crack and touch my vagina. I let out a moan.

“Is that okay, honey?” Mom asked in between kisses.

“It’s okay, Mom.” I whispered hotly.

She started to rub my slit, while another hand found my budding breasts. Slowly she pushed in a finger inside me. I let out a moan, was silenced with a wet kiss. I pushed back my ass and felt Mom’s finger slide in deeper, then sat upright and felt the finger slip in entirely. I was in heaven. Mom continued to fondle my small breasts as I rode her finger. whispering sweet words of love.

I felt my muscles contract around her finger, then she touched my clit with her thumb. I grabbed Mom’s other hand and pressed it against my breasts, forcing her to squeeze them tightly. She fucked me until the pleasure mounted and I shook. I let out a loud hiss and came.

I straddled her belly and let the waves subside, then slowly sank down on her chest and kissed her. “That felt great, Mom.”

She kissed me and said nothing, but hugged me.

“What do you want me to do to you?” I asked her.

“I c-couldn’t…” Mom said weakly. I smothered her with a deep kiss.

“I have this fantasy,” she confessed in a hushed voice.

There was no room for embarrassment anymore. When she was finished, I smiled and dismounted her, then pushed her legs up until she held them up for herself. I kissed my way up her thigh until my lips found her cunny.

I tasted of my mother and fell in love with the taste. I heard her gasp as my lips toyed with her clit and lips. I stuck my tongue inside her and felt arch her back. Slowly I pushed a finger inside her vagina. I slid it in and out. She was very wet, I licked her juices from my finger and tried two fingers that fit snugly.

“Yes, Rose, fuck me please,” she whispered.

I tried in three fingers that went in easily, then four. Mom was whimpering softly. Boldly I pushed in my entire hand, Mom froze, then relaxed, then froze again. “Oh yeah, honey, fuck me please,” I heard her whisper.

I sucked on her clit as I fucked her slowly. Mom bucked and continued to whisper sweet words of devotion.

“How long have you wanted this, Mom?” I asked her.

“For I can’t remember how long. Oh my god, forever.”

I licked her clit again and Mom let out a moan, still aware of the thin walls. “Make a fist inside me, baby, come on,” she whispered.

I clenched a fist and started to push all the way up to my wrist. Mom made a noise.

As I picked up the pace my mom started to confess in a harried voice every sin she had thought of committing with me. How she had wanted to kiss me, fondle me, lick me, fuck me. I buried my fist in her cunt over and over again, going deeper each time. Her slick walls gripped my arm. Then she stiffened and let out a animal groan that rose to a scream, coming like I’d never seen anyone do.

Finally she went limp and lay there gasping for air.

I slowly extracted my arm, crawled on top of my mother and kissed her on the mouth. “Some vacation, huh?” I said.

*****

The next morning was a fairy tale again with a rough edge reality mixed in. After a sumptuous breakfast we walked back to the camping to assess the damage.

With bleak faces we saw the mess the storm had left. Our tent was ripped to shreds, the tent of Laura and her daughters was crushed by a tree and Carmen and Ursula’s tent had been blown away and hung in a tree, six meters above the ground.

The owner of the camping grounds stood by helplessly as we salvaged what they could. Carmen just cried, Mom shrugged, and Laura seemed to count her blessings that we had found refuge with Isabeau.

By noon most what had been salvaged lay in the trunks of our cars, the rest lay in the dumpster of the camping ground. A little lost, we looked at each other, until we saw the elegant figures of Monique and Yvonne appear from the woods.

“Our mother insists upon you accepting her offer to stay at our mansion for the remainder of your vacation,” Monique said.

There were some weak utterances of light resistance before a swift surrender. The mothers were told how to drive toward the mansion, the group of daughters chose to walk there. I walked next to Ursula, and we held each other’s hands.

We were all too scared to ask Monique and Yvonne for how long we would be welcome, and far too dissociated to care what the answer would be; all we wanted to have was a holiday, tell the folk home that we were all right and have some fun.

I looked guiltily at Ursula, who was blissfully unaware of what had transpired between me and Mom last night. She just seemed to be happy to be around me.

When we arrived at the mansion, our mothers waited outside the front door, the cars parked somewhere discreetly so as to keep the 20th century hidden. If it wasn’t for our modern clothing and haircuts, the illusion would have been perfect.

I felt Ursula give my hand a slight squeeze and smiled back. Mom didn’t seem to mind us holding hands as we walked in.

Isabeau stood in the welcoming hall with hands clasped together. With just a raised eyebrow she caught our attention and we watched her expectantly.

“For the coming time you are invited to stay in our house as guests. It means that any mention of you having to pay for your stay will be considered an insult.” Our mothers started to protest. Isabeau raised her hand and our mothers fell silent. “That was your five seconds’ time to complain. Now you will hear my terms: as you have probably noticed my daughters and I prefer to indulge in manners that might seem antiquated. But it is the way we like to live; it is a way of life we feel ourselves most comfortable with. Which means that in return for your stay, we would like you to dress like us.”

We gave each other a look of surprise. Our mothers looked at us, saw our eager faces and gave a collective nod.

“Excellent,” Isabeau said with a smile and turned towards the stairs, “then let us leave the future behind.”

Upstairs, she commanded us to stash our suitcases in the cupboards and walked us towards where we thought the changing rooms were. We girls were very apprehensive, as we didn’t know what the reactions of our mothers would be, but we entered a different room where faceless manikins wore the most lavish garments I had ever seen.

Isabeau smiled and put her hands together. Her daughters flanked her as she said: “Please, feel free to find something that suits you and your taste. If you need anything, just give us a call.”

Ursula and I giggled and started to wander around. I noticed her and Valerie and Louise looking out for those corsets, but we saw none. I took a closer look at a dress and saw that its fit was much looser.

I turned to show Ursula but found myself looking at the angelic face of Monique. “I think you will find that these will also be to your liking.” Without a moment’s hesitation she pulled out a black dress with silver embroidery. “Have you ever worn Chinese silk? This dress might look too warm for the season, but it won’t be.”

She deftly removed the dress from the puppet and guided me to a dressing room that had walls of blue velour and a big mirror. There, Monique smiled and helped me undress.

“Where are the, um, corsets…?” I asked.

“Somewhere else, we thought it wiser not to let your mothers see those just yet,” she whispered and fell silent as Carmen walked in with Yvonne.

Carmen and I exchanged coy glances as we dressed. I got to wear a loose undergarment under which I wore nothing. Over that came the dress itself, adorned with tassels and strings. Monique smoothed the fabric over my body with the easy intimacy of a dresser. She smiled at me and said: “There you are,” and she turned me towards the mirror.

In the mirror I saw Carmen half-dressed looking in awe at me. I giggled, not knowing where to look — at myself, or Carmen.

Monique guided me out of the dressing room and picked up Ursula, who stood waiting by a silver dress.

“Wow,” Mom said with her jaw on the floor.

Isabeau nodded approvingly and walked my mom, who had a dress similar to mine, into the dressing room.

By the time everyone was dressed we had a very hard time staying serious. We made courtesies to each other and giggled like school children. Fortunately our hostesses didn’t seem to be offended and participated in our frolicking.

“What do we do now?” Mom asked.

“We will have a picnic,” Isabeau said. “It is way past noon and the sun is shining.”

She walked towards the kitchen and had her daughters pack in a few baskets with wine, bread, meat, fruit and cheese.

We went outside and sat down in the grass.

Somehow we felt the desperate need to leave our mundane lives behind; our stories didn’t match our dresses, we wore a skin that wasn’t ours anymore. We didn’t speak of school, of life in the suburbs, the jobs of fathers, but about beauty, songs, memories that we cherished, personal challenges, dreams and fears.

Sometimes I listened to my mom talk and looked and listened with the eyes and ears of a stranger. Sometimes she looked at me and smiled broadly at me and I felt my skin tingle, she never seemed so close to me. Then I remembered what had occurred between us last night and fought with my confused feelings.

I can’t remember giving nor receiving more compliments in my entire life than that precious afternoon. While we slid into a mode we had never experienced before and we started to get comfortable in the dresses and mood of the ambiance, we started to see each other in ways we would have not done before.

Carmen’s heavy breasts filled her dress in an enticing way as she lay on her side, popping grapes in her mouth as she took her time in appraising her daughters’ physical traits. As she gave remarks about the long slender neck of her youngest or the way the ankle of her oldest melted into the calf, we happily tagged along with like she was showing us the canals of Venice or the intricacies of the frescoes of the Sistine Chapel.

“What I like about my mom,” I started when Carmen was done, “is that I don’t have to have an excuse when a boy says that I’m pretty. I can point to my mom and say that I inherited her looks.” Mom blushed.

“What else do you like about your mother?” Isabeau asked.

For a moment I felt thunderstruck. Did she know? Or suspect? I thought quickly, but came to a quick conclusion that I had to pick up the gauntlet. Mom seemed to want to disappear into thin air as I took a quick guilty glance at her.

I took a deep breath. “When I grow up, I want to look like her. My mother is a beautiful woman with her long hair, brown eyes, her cute nose and sweet smiling mouth. She has a great ass, long legs…” I blushed and looked away, almost embarrassed. Then I found myself looking at Ursula who smiled at me. “Okay, someone else,” I said.

“Okay, my turn,” Louise said, “what I like about Valerie….”

And so the game continued during the afternoon. Even our hostesses joined in and gave each other frank remarks about their physical traits, which surprised us a lot. They just seemed to feel a little too comfortable and made passing remarks about things one could only see when the subject was naked.

On the other hand… being seamstresses, they probably had seen each other nude many times. Thinking about that made me want to see the others without their clothes, all of them. I think that we all felt that way, that desire was so thick in the air that you could taste it on the tip of the tongue.