Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

Author Unknown

It was my ex-girlfriend Nora who got me started, I guess. She’s gone now, but the inspiration she gave me remains.

Our sex was the “anytime, any place” sort, lesbian style. Water sports, toys, an enormous strap-on cock and talk of young girls. I knew she had a predilection that way, and not only did it not bother me, it turned me on to talk about it.

One night, the subject of my eight-year-old daughter Jenny came up. I can’t remember how we ended up talking about it, but the conversation centered on the smell of young girls; particularly the scent of their pussies. That night as we fucked, I whispered in her ear, “Are you thinking of little Jenny’s cunt?”

She said, “Yes,” then asked with a knowing smile, “Are you?”

I didn’t have to make it up, I replied “Yes, I’m thinking of her pussy now.” I was, too. And I wasn’t ashamed.

As I said, Nora’s gone now. We’re still friends, blah blah blah, but what I’ve continued to do is, before I turn in for the night, I’ll get a pair of Jenny’s used panties from the hamper and bring them to bed with me. My little girl is eleven now, and utterly adorable. I lie in bed and smell her panties, linger over them until I give into my desire, and then I slowly lick the crotch to taste my daughter’s cunt.

And I get crude in my fantasies. I say the words as they enter my head — sometimes, even whispering them aloud.

I’ll fantasize I’m talking to her, saying, Do you like me licking your baby cunt? And in my imagination I’ve already taught her the dirty words I want her to use, so she’ll reply, Yes, Mummy, lick my cunt, get me wet, make me come in your mouth. Fuck your little girl.

I’d developed a serious obsession, and for two years I’d been wondering how to make a move on my little girl without scaring her silly. After all, she’s my daughter and I love her with all my heart. But maybe I didn’t want her to learn about sex at the hands of some young spotty adolescent, a lout who cared not a fig for my little girl as he groped her secret parts. I wanted to be her lover.

Then one night, something wonderful happened.

I’d gone to bed with a pair of Jenny’s panties, like usual. I’d chosen a particularly cute baby-blue pair — those always turned me on in a big way, especially when my daughter was running around in them.

I’d hardly started in on my fantasy when the door slowly opened and in came little Jenny. There was no reason for her to be there. Oh, it had happened before in times of stress; thunder storms, bad dreams, the usual. But tonight? All was calm, as was she. Yet there she was, crawling into bed with me in her everyday sleepwear, a Tigger t-shirt with loose-fitting shorts.

I asked if she was okay, she whispered “Yes,” and then fell asleep.

It felt as if I was in unexplored terrain. I couldn’t very well start masturbating with Jenny’s panties while she was so close to me, but damn it, I was feeling more aroused that I could ever remember being.

I whispered, “Jenny?” No response. I put my hand on her leg and gently shook it — no response.

I kept my hand on her leg, just above the knee. She had quite thin legs, just on the verge of filling out and becoming womanly. I stroked her thigh in a motherly fashion, or so I told myself, but my touches were increasing in proportion to my heart rate.

Her legs were already slightly parted; now they eased open just a bit more. Was she asleep? This was so risky.

I softly whispered her name once more. Nothing.

I was now stroking the inside of her left thigh, the one nearest to me, slowly letting my hand move higher. Where was I going? What was I doing? Then came the magical moment when my fingers slipped beneath her shorts and I felt wisps of soft down between her legs.

Why was I surprised that she had pubes? She was on the cusp of womanhood, after all. It was like stroking a peach.

By this point I’d eased her left leg over my right. I felt like I was falling down a ravine as my fingers gently touched her virgin cunt. And there was my second surprise. She was wet. She felt wet and open. I gently continued my caressing, amazed at my own temerity, at my own willingness to seduce my own daughter.

“Mummy?”

I froze. I stopped. Stock still, like a statue. The only part of me that continued to move was my thumping heart.

“That feels nice, Mummy.”

Mind you, I didn’t feel any sense of relief at her words. I think I was still in shock.

“Don’t stop Mummy, please.”

Had she been awake all this time? It didn’t really matter, she certainly was now.

“Baby,” I said, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be doing this.”

But I hadn’t moved my hand. And then I felt her hand on mine.

“Don’t stop,” she said again.

So I carried on, stroking her sweet slit. Her arms came from beneath the bedclothes and she pushed them down. I helped til we were both completely uncovered. I’d moved my hand so it was inside her shorts from the top, cupping her little sex while my middle finger was caressing her clit. Jenny’s breathing deepened, as did mine.

I had to say something, we couldn’t continue this without speaking about it first. I had a feeling that if we carried on in silence, then went to sleep in silence, we’d wake up in silence.

“Are you okay, baby?” I asked.

“Yes, it feels wonderful,” Jenny said, then, “Don’t worry, Mummy,” she continued, as if reading my mind. “This is our secret.”

My finger was now inside her cunt. I was stunned by how wet my little girl was.

“I want to taste you, darling,” I whispered, “I want to lick you down there, would you like that?”

She just nodded.

“Tell me.” I said. “Tell me that you want me to taste you.”

She gave a determined nod. “I want you to taste me, Mummy, I want you to lick me.”

I eased Jenny’s t-shirt up to reveal her little tits. They were small, but as she lay now, her chest was as flat as a two-year-old’s. I licked her nipples, suckled them, then began to kiss my way down to her tummy.

“Dearest Jenny… I want you so much,” I told her as I continued my journey down her body. “Are you sure about this?”

“Surer than anything,” my child said, and I dipped my head between her legs.

I kissed her inner thighs, then moved in to lick her, shaking as I took that first taste of my beautiful daughter. She spread her legs as wide as she could, and a whole world of possibilities opened up before us.

*****

We woke in the morning… not to silence, but to smiles and a hug. I’d gone down on my eleven-year-old daughter and made her come twice. The very thought made me wet all over again.

I pulled her to me, wrapped my arms around her little body and we held each other. Her pajamas had disappeared in the night and we lay naked in each other’s arms.

I eventually went for a shower, then downstairs to make breakfast. There were still chores to do, after all. Jenny would be off to school soon, so I decided to skip work. I would’ve been useless anyway.

It was when Jenny came into the kitchen that the reality of what we’d done really hit home. She was in her school uniform and she looked, once again, like my eleven-year-old daughter. Just a little girl.

She seemed fine, but I was fast becoming a mess. Somehow, I managed to hold it together until she’d left for the bus stop at the head of the street, but once I was alone, I cried. These weren’t tears of despair or guilt, or even happiness. I don’t know why I cried, I just did.

I got through the day, but as the time went on I became increasingly anxious. Would Jenny be okay when she got home? Would she be thinking about me? About our night together? Was she having second thoughts about what we’d done?

Eventually the door opened and closed and Jenny walked into the living room where I sat, tense as a carriage spring. And she came over and knelt in front of me. We looked at each other, just gazing into each other’s eyes.

“Is everything all right, baby?” I asked, my voice gone hoarse.

Jenny smiled. “Everything’s wonderful, Mummy.” She paused. “Isn’t it?”

Then I did what I should have done last night but, surprisingly, didn’t: I kissed her. Imagine a hot summer’s day when the heat makes everything seem silent and still, and you see a butterfly light on a flower. That’s how delicate our first kiss was.

“My heart’s beating so fast,” I whispered between kisses.

“So’s mine,” she whispered back.

So I put my hand on her chest and felt Jenny’s heart through her school blouse, and kissed her more deeply. I opened my mouth and she did the same and then we were kissing like lovers. Our tongues touched, nervously, like debutantes at the first dance. I was stroking her breasts, her small, beautifully formed breasts. I could feel the fabric of the training bra we’d only recently bought.

My mouth left hers and I began to kiss her cheek, her neck, then I was nuzzling her ear and she was literally panting. I whispered her name in her ear, kept saying it.

“Oh, Jenny, Jenny, Jenny. I want you so much, baby. I’ve been thinking about this for so long.”

“How long, Mummy?” All this was in hushed tones.

“Don’t hate me for this, baby… but ever since you were eight, I’ve wanted to make love to you.”

“Oh, Mummy, I want that too. I love you so much!” While we’d been kissing, her hands had been resting on my knees, and now she began to ease the skirt I wore up my legs. Then I felt her right hand move higher and higher until she was caressing my inner thigh.

“Touch me.” I whispered, and she did. Her fingers were stroking my cunt through my panties which, by this time, were soaked.

“You’re wet, Mummy.”

“It’s how you make me feel, baby.”

She moved her head to whisper into my ear, “I’m wet too, Mummy. And that’s how you make me feel.”

We kissed again, both of us moaning and whimpering into each other’s mouths, and I slid my hand beneath her short pleated skirt and, with little ceremony, delved into her cotton panties. She was wet. The insides of her thighs were slippery with her juices.

Now she had a finger in my cunt, sliding it in and out.

“Taste me.” I said, “put your finger in your mouth and taste me.”

And she did. Then she did it again, and again.

“I like how you taste, Mummy,” she said.

We kissed again, tongues meeting, I wanted to suck her nipples, I wanted to taste her cunt, I wanted to lick her anus, I wanted everything. I wanted to devour her completely, I was so boundlessly in love with my daughter.

That afternoon on the sofa in the living room, we did taste each other. I went down on her, and, at her insistence, she went down on me. It’s a sin, I know. It’s wrong, I know that too. But looking down at my eleven-year-old daughter, head between my open legs, as she licked my cunt, it wasn’t a sin. It wasn’t wrong. It was the most right thing in the world.

I didn’t want to dominate her life, I didn’t want to abuse her. I wanted to teach her. I wanted to love her. I wanted us to love each other. And now we do, nearly every day. We feel complete.

The End