Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

By Tony Williams

{ This story was originally posted at Lesbian Lolita in July 2015 }

I’m the headmistress of a private elementary girls’ school in Sussex, about an hour Southeast of London. I love my job, and for the most part, love the girls in my charge. There are exceptions, a few of the little monsters need a good spanking, but to balance things out, there are far more who are quite sweet and innocent. Their ages range from five to eleven, at which point they’ll go on to the senior school. My kids all wear the school uniform, which I designed myself, consisting of a pale blue gingham short sleeved dress. It buttons all the way down the front and has a white collar. White ankle socks or knee socks complete the picture. They all look so sweet. I suspect that a few of them might have crushes on me.

It’s lunch time and I’m in my office, which overlooks the playground, with its jungle gym and swing set. The kids are making a lot of noise, but I don’t mind. The playful screams and laughter of little girls is music to my ears.

With me in my office is a young woman by the name of Vicky who has offered to buy my grandfather’s stamp collection, a dozen or so bulky albums of British colonial issues. I have no interest in stamps and merely want to offload it. She slowly leafs through the pages, pausing occasionally to closely inspect certain items. About half way through the lunch break she looks up and suddenly freezes. I think I know what has caught her attention.

My office window is only about thirty feet from the jungle gym and every day at this time, a pupil by the name of Bunty uses it. If any of the other kids are on it, they move over to make room for her because, at eleven and a half, she’s one of the oldest kids in the elementary school. Not that she’s a bully or anything, it’s just like most hierarchies, age confers seniority.

She’s is in the habit off swinging her legs up and hanging upside down from the top bar, which causes her dress to fall, revealing her blinding white knickers and the pale skin of her chest. Even her nipples are visible, though her breasts are entirely undeveloped. Then she drops to her feet and repeats the whole exercise over and over, never seeming to tire of it. A few of the kids try to emulate her and a few succeed and I hope she might set a trend. Every day I make sure my office door is locked and my curtains closed half way, so that it’s darker inside than out and no one can see me staring at the sexy little darling.

Alas, today, this is the only time Vicky has available, so I’m missing my daily show. She stares for several long seconds, until I can no longer ignore the pause, so I glance over my shoulder to see that, yes, little Bunty is showing off her underpants with a total lack of self consciousness. To be honest, I think her innocence is faked. Once or twice in the past she has glanced at my window, smiling, so perhaps she knows I’m always looking.

“That’s Bunty,” I say, trying to be nonchalant. “She does that every day, for the whole lunch time.”

“Oh, my God!” Vicky whispers. “She’s so cute!”

“She’s adorable,” I say. “so sweet and innocent., I just love her lack of inhibition. Pretty soon she’ll be all grown up and blushing if anyone gets so much as a glance at her knickers.”

I’m pushing my luck here, but it’s obvious that Vicky is totally captivated by the little exhibitionist. She continues to stare, whispering, “Oh, my God!” to herself over and over. Her mouth is open, her eyes wide and her breathing quickens.

“You could take a picture of her if you like,” I tell her.

She comes to with a jerk, turns to me and says, “Do you think she’d mind?”

“Only if we tell her and even then, I have a hunch she secretly likes showing off like this.”

She pulls her phone out of her purse. “I wanna make a video.” I put my hand on her shoulder and guide her to the edge of the window.

“Go ahead. Shoot between the edge of the curtain and the wall, so she won’t see you. We don’t want to frighten her off.” I hold the curtain to create a gap and Vicky aims her phone and records the thrilling sight of an eleven year old showing off her white knickers to the world. Vicky shoots through three cycles of Bunty’s act, and then the bell rings and the kids all start to leave the play ground. Bunty does one more cycle, glances in our direction and goes indoors.

Vicky turns the phone off and looks at me, a guilty grin on her face. “You probably think I’m weird,” she says.

“Not at all. After all, Bunty is the prettiest girl in the whole school, by a long way. Who wouldn’t be…” I was going to say ‘aroused’, but I settle for “…attracted by her ‘innocence’? I think she does it deliberately. She’s teasing us.”

“She does it every day?”

“Every day, and I always watch her.”

Vicky grins at me. “I envy you,” she says. “You have a whole school full of adorable little girls. I’m in the wrong job.”

“I have my own pictures of her. Would you like to see them?”

“Absolutely!” I pull up a spare chair and we sit at my desk, looking at my lap top. I have a dozen or so pictures of Bunty, all taken surreptitiously, mostly upskirts as she squatted in the sand box, one of her doing a cartwheel, a couple of handstands and one of her in the changing room wearing nothing but her white cotton knickers, her back to me, showing her perfect little bum and, of course, lots of pictures of her hanging upside down. Thank God for camera phones; it’s so easy to pretend to be talking while taking a shot.

“I think I’m falling in love,” says Vicky.

I chuckle, sympathetically. “Who wouldn’t? I’m kind of obsessed with her myself.”

She grins at me. “Then I guess our secret’s out.”

“It is.” I grin back. “We’re a pair of lesbian paedophiles, getting all wet over an eleven year old’s knickers. We’re not gonna tell anyone about this, are we?”

“Shit, no. People wouldn’t understand. We’re not predators, we just see beauty where others don’t.”

“You know, I believe that no kind of sex is off limits as long as it’s consensual.”

“But Bunty didn’t consent to being spying on and photographed.”

“I’m sure she’s perfectly aware that I watch her every day, and her apparent innocence is just an act. Every once in a while, she looks over to my window and smiles, but I never show myself. I’m in a position of responsibility and trust, and any inappropriate contact between her and me would be disastrous.”

“You’re the only the second person in the world who knows about my thing for little girls. It’s such a relief to be able to talk about it. I’ve felt guilty for years.”

“I don’t feel guilty.” Who’s the other, I wonder? “I’ve never harmed anyone nor ever will. It’s the way I’m made and I can’t change it. Just accept yourself for what you are.”

She grins. “A pervert.”

“Us perverts gotta stick together.”

“When I was Bunty’s age, I was just like her, never missing an opportunity to show off my knickers, to my dad, my uncle, visitors to the house, my teachers, boys and girls at school, mostly girls, though. It was a kind of power trip, though I didn’t think of it that way. I just loved to show off. She brings back such delightful memories.”

“I have some pictures of other girls,” I say, “some from this school but most I’ve just downloaded from the internet.” I open another file and start a slideshow. I have a hundred or so pictures of youngsters showing off their knickers, some of them quite deliberately posed. The final picture is of a girl of about twelve, totally naked, standing on a beach, beads of moisture on her lovely skin, her vagina on full view. Her breasts are just beginning to swell. She has a lovely smile on her face.

“Oh, that’s hot!” says Vicky.

“Why would her daddy post that on the internet?”

“Unless Mummy took it,” she says. “I have a daughter like that, only a bit younger. You wanna see a picture of her?” She takes her phone and opens a file. “This is little Kimmy. She’ll be eleven next week.” She’s wearing a white cotton sun dress, a kind of Mexican peasant thing, and I can just make out her pink knickers through the thin material. Vicky thumbs to the next picture where Kimmy is holding the hem of her dress up to clean her glasses. The pink knickers are now perfectly visible. They have a little white lace round the legs. She has a “look at me” smile on her face.

It’s my turns to gasp and whisper, “Oh, my God! She’s even prettier than Bunty.”

“But not as sexy.”

“I don’t agree. She’s the sexiest thing I’ve seen since …forever!”

Vicky grins. “Then look at this one.” I see a picture of Kimmy naked in the tub, lying back, her knees up and apart, resting against the sides of the tub, her vagina provocatively displayed. The smile on her face is a lewd invitation. Vicky puts her hand on my arm. She can probably feel me trembling. I’m speechless. “I think I know why Mummy took that picture of her daughter on the beach and put it on the net,” she says. “She wanted people like us to get turned on. She probably gets off on it. I’m gonna ask Kim if I can post some pics of her on a hosting site. Just imaging people all over the world looking at her naked body.” She gives a little shiver of excitement. “She’d love it and so would I.”

“I think I’m falling in love,” I groan, my hand on my heart, theatrically.

“Would you like to meet her? Of course you would. When I said you’re only the second person who knows about my love for little girls: Kim knows it too. She doesn’t think it’s weird. Maybe she’s the one who caused it to resurface after all these year, forever showing off her knickers and her naked body, getting me all worked up. I should add incest to my list of perversions.” I laugh, dutifully. She goes on, “Why don’t you come over to my place after school and stay for dinner? I think Kim would like you.”

My heart is pounding. “Will she be wearing that white sun dress?”

“I’ll make sure she does. What colour knickers would you like her to wear?”

“Surprise me.”

We exchange email addresses so we can send pictures to each other, close the deal on the stamps and I escort her to the school’s main entrance. “You can come over any lunchtime,” I tell her, “and watch Bunty.” She puts her arms round me in a more than friendly hug. “How can I thank you?” she breathes.

I can think of a few ways.

*****

When the school bell finally rings at the end of the day, I leave all my outstanding paperwork and rush home. In the shower, I use the ‘pulse’ feature on my hand held shower head to pound my clit with a water jet, then put one soapy finger in my pussy and one up my arse. I want to be nice and clean for Vicky and Kim. I finger fuck myself for a minute or so, thinking about them. Who knows what might happen?

I select a loose cream silk camisole and a short, flared skirt. I ponder about panties, then pick a pair of skimpy, white, translucent briefs that are split right up the front, with the two sides held together with a tiny pink bow. One tug and I’m all yours. The material is so sheer, you can see my pussy anyway. I fully intent to go back to my childhood habit of letting people look up my skirt. In that way I’m not so different from Vicky or Bunty.

I jump into my car and race over to her place, a semi-detached house in a quiet neighbourhood. I park in the drive and knock on the door. It opens, and there’s Kimmy in that same white peasant dress and white ankle socks with lace round the tops, looking stunning. She smiles at me as I introduce myself.

“And you must be Kimmy.”

“I’m Kim now, ‘cos I’m all grown up. Come on in, Mum’s in the shower.”

“I love your dress, Kim,” I tell the gorgeous little girl. Her chest is perfectly flat, her hips narrow, her legs slender and her face is that of an angel. I try to see what colour her knickers are through the dress, but the light is too dim.

“Mum showed me the video of that girl in your school, hanging upside down.”

“What did you think?”

“She’s cool. We don’t have a jungle gym at my school. If we did, I’d hang like that.”

I grin. “And let everyone see your knickers?”

“I think that’s the idea.” She giggles. “Did she show you the pictures of me on her phone?”

“She did. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not, pictures are for looking at. Which did you like best? Don’t tell me, I know: the one of me in the tub with nothing on, right?”

“Correct. You looked so cute.”

“Sexy?”

“Extremely!”

Just then, Vicky comes down the stairs, naked except for a towel wrapped round her body. It’s long enough to cover her bum, so I don’t get to see anything exciting. She welcomes me, fixes me a glass of wine and sits me down on the living room couch. Kim stands in front of me, her mother behind her, her arms round Kim’s waist. “I bet you’re dying to know what colour knickers she has on, aren’t you?”

“I can’t wait,” I say, sincerely. Mum reaches down and lifts her daughter’s dress right up under her chin. I gasp, not with surprise, but with delight. The knickers are perfectly ordinary schoolgirl white cotton, full cut, coming almost up to her belly button, the classic little-girl look.

“Kim picked the colour after looking at the video of Bunty.”

“All little girls should wear white,” I say, “as a symbol of their innocence.”

Vicky chortles. “Yeah, right! But what we don’t yet know is what colour you’re wearing.” Instead of just telling them, I stand up, step to one end of the room, ascertain that there’s sufficient space, take one step and go into a cartwheel. I may be in my thirties, but I can still do a nice slow cartwheel. My skirt, as planned, falls and I know they can see my not-quite-crotchless knickers. Vicky is still holding Kim’s dress up.

She laughs and Kim says, “Do another one.” This time I do a handstand, hold it for as long as I can, then go right over into ‘the crab’, my back arched, my weight on my feet and hands. Not only is my skirt up round my waist, but my camisole has fallen up so that it’s now above my tits.

“Hold it right there,” calls Vicky, “while I find my phone.” I have an inverted view of her as she drops Kim’s dress and disappears. After a few seconds, I see the flash go off and I collapse on my back, my clothes in delightful disarray.

“Nice tits,” says Kim. I smile at her, gratefully. Vicky takes another pic of me, then I scramble to my feet and sit back down on the couch, my legs splayed invitingly. My camisole is still stuck up above my tits. I feel that same rush that I felt when I was a kid in the playground, putting on a show.

“Those knickers are wicked,” says Kim, grinning. “Will you buy me a pair like that, Mum?”

“First thing tomorrow.”

“Now it’s your turn,” I say. “What’s under the towel?”

Without waiting for her to answer, Kim yanks the towel from round her mother, who stands, her legs parted, her fingers laced behind her head, entirely naked. She’s utterly gorgeous, with a slender boyish figure and tiny firm tits. Her pussy is shaved as clean as my own. I feel a sudden rush of excitement. Soon, my knickers are going to be wet.

“These are my invisible knickers. I wear them all the time, don’t I, Kim?”

“You do, Mum. I have a pair, too. Do you want to see them?” Without waiting for me to reply, she lets her mother lift the dress over her head, and begins to slide her knickers down, ever so slowly. She sure knows how to tease. After several long, aching seconds, her little girl’s slit comes into view, beautifully bald. My pulse begins to race. She pushes her knickers below her knees and lets them fall. She spreads her arms out and does a pirouette. “Ta-daaah!” she sings, a big smile on her face, “Invisible knickers, invisible knickers! Look at me in my invisible knickers!” Vicky folds her in her arms and holds her tightly.

“I think she likes being naked just as much as I do,” says Vicky. “Every night, she undresses right in the window with the light on and the curtains open wide. Anyone passing in the street can see her.”

“That’s so fun,” says Kim. “You should try it, Mum.”

“But that late, there are no little girls around to see me,” she says.

“There’s me.”

“You like to watch me undress anyway, so why should I share you with the whole world?” This exchange confirms that Kim is acquainted with her mother’s paedophilia, though I doubt if she’s familiar with that word.

“I feel overdressed,” I say, lifting my hips and sliding my skirt off then following it with my camisole. Kim clearly likes my knickers so much, I decide to leave them on for the time being. Vicky comes and sits beside me on the couch and puts and arm round my shoulder. Kim sits on her thighs, her back to her mum’s chest. Vicky’s other arm goes round her daughter, her fingers playing with one nipple.

“I think you’ve got my daughter all excited,” she whispers in my ear. “Let’s see if she’s wet.” Kim giggles as her mum slowly slides her hand down her body, over her abdomen and between her legs. Her knees move apart invitingly. Mum’s hand moves lower and one finger disappears.

“Oh, she’s wet, really wet. You’re excited, aren’t you, my sweet?” She takes her hand from between Kim’s legs, brings it to her nose, inhales, then puts her finger in her mouth. “Mmm, you taste so good.” She turns to me. “I think you’d like the taste, too. Give me your hand. No, on second thoughts, why don’t you taste her directly. Would you like to be licked, Kim?”

So Mum is really into her daughter in a big way. The idea sets my pulse racing. I slide off the couch on to the carpet and kneel in front of them. Kim obligingly lifts her knees up to her chest and now I have two cunts less than a foot in front of my face, one dripping wet, the other moist, but much more exciting. I’ve eaten a few pussies over the years, but never that of an eleven year old girl at the invitation of her mother. I look up a Kim and see the excitement in her eyes.

“Lick me,” she says.

“Go on,” says Vicky. “Lick my little girl’s cunt. Make her cum. She does cum, you know. I’ve watched her cum when she masturbates.”

My head is spinning with the image of the two of them, masturbating for each other. I can’t wait any longer and I shuffle forward on my knees and press my lips against the darling little girl’s cunt. Her lips are not yet developed and I can’t detect a clit, but it’s still the most thrilling thing I’ve done in my life. I push my tongue as far into her as it will stretch, until it aches, then run it up and down her slit. I push one hand underneath her and touch her mother’s cunt, which is even wetter, and finger her lips and clit.

Vicky groans. “Oh, I’m in heaven! I can’t take it any longer – I’m gonna cum. Oh, shit, I’m gonna cum right now! Yeah! Oh, my God!” She lets out a huge whoosh of air and her legs clamp on my arm. Her hips thrust upwards, nearly dislodging her daughter, then she goes limp. I’m amazed that she would cum with so little physical touch, but I suppose that her daughter’s provocative behaviour had already brought her ninety percent of the way there. My fingers just pulled the trigger.

“I think you made her cum,” says Kim. I look up at her and she’s gazing down at me, a big smile on her face. “I love it when Mum cums.”

“I wanna make you cum,” I say.

She pushes my head away and rolls sideways off her mum’s lap. “No, me first. Sit on the couch next to mum and spread your legs.” How many eleven year olds have you heard saying that?

I oblige. “I’ll do anything you want me to,” I tell her.

She kneels between my feet. “I’m gonna pull that bow,” she says.

Vicky opens her eyes and laughs. “I knew that wouldn’t stay tied for long. Go ahead, kid. Open her secret door and show us what’s inside.”

I lift my head to watch as Kim reaches out and gently tugs on the ribbon. With her fingers, she pulls the two sides of my knickers apart, giving her an unobstructed view of my pussy, freshly shaved, glistening with moisture.

“Wow,” she breathes, “It’s beautiful, even prettier than yours, Mum.” She gazes at it, adoringly. “You have such a big clit, and big, loose lips. I love it!” She laughs and looks at her mum, who now kneels beside her, gazing intently at my lewdly displayed cunt. The feel of their eyes on me makes my tummy churn with excitement.

“You can touch it, Kim,” I say.

“Apart from Mum’s, I’ve never touched a grown-up’s thing before,” she says, leaning in closer and staring at it.

“What about other girls at your school?” asks Vicky.

“Oh, yes, I thought you knew. We touch each other a lot in the bathroom. We do all sorts of naughty stuff.”

“I can imagine,” says Vicky. “You should have told me earlier. Maybe later you can tell me all the details, maybe take some pictures,so I can have some nice fantasies to masturbate to.”

“Mum likes me to watch when she masturbates,” says Kim, grinning. “I let her watch when I do it, too.”

“Now, go ahead and touch it,” says her mum. “I wanna watch.” Kim’s fingers stroke my lips and I let out a groan of pleasure.

I hear Vicky’s breathing quicken. “This is so fucking hot,” she whispers. “I’m almost cumming again. Jesus! I’ve never been so turned on in my life. Put your finger inside her. Try two fingers.”

“Three,” I groan. I’m so wet that her fingers slide into me easily. “Try four, my sweet darling.” Her hand is now inside me, up to her thumb. “Fold your thumb into your palm and push your whole hand inside. Don’t worry, it won’t hurt. Go on, push. Push harder. Oh, fuck! That feels so good.” Her hand is now inside my cunt, up the the wrist. “Make a fist,” I groan and suddenly she’s filled me right up. I draw my knees up to my chest. “Pump it in and out, yeah, like that.” Her hand is now buried half way up her arm, touching things inside me, setting of little explosions of lust.

Vicky keeps saying, “Oh my God!” over and over, just like she did in my office. I see the flash of her camera several times and another thrill runs through me, knowing that she’ll be reliving this moment over and over, masturbating with her little girl.

I hear myself shouting, “Fuck me, fuck me! Fuck me, you darling angel.” Then I feel my orgasm building like a tsunami, breaking over me, setting my whole body on fire. I gasp for air and slowly, my excitement ebbs. I can see my chest is bright red.

I look down at Kim’s gorgeous little body as she squats between my feet, her little cunt that I just licked glistening with moisture. I’m so in love with her. She has a huge grin on her face.

“Wow, I made you cum,” she says as she carefully withdraws her hand. She licks it, front and back. “Yummy, that tastes amazing.” She leans in and place her mouth on my cunt, dragging her tongue up and down over my lips, then pushes it into my vagina. Then she licks all the way up to my swollen clit, takes it between her lips and sucks on it, hard. Where did she learn to do that?

“She can’t get enough of you,” says Vicky, looking round for her camera. “I’m never gonna forget this moment.” Neither am I. The flash goes off several times. I guess Vicky and Kim won’t be the only ones masturbating to these pictures.

“Enough,” says Vicky. “My turn now.” She pushes her daughter aside, knees between my thighs and begins to expertly eat my pussy. Kim takes the camera and takes some more shots. Then she kneels up on the couch beside me, brings her face to mine and kisses me on the mouth, her little tongue probing. Her hand goes to my breast, caressing it and pinching my nipple. In just a few seconds, I’ve cum again.

Later, in the bedroom on Vicky’s big king-size bed, we lie in a triangle, as Vicky eats me, I eat her daughter, and Kim, amazingly, eagerly laps at her mother’s cunt. Then we all swap ends, so that everyone gets to eat everyone else’s pussy. I lose count of all the orgasms. I still have my split-front knickers on. I should wear them more often.

*****

It’s the following afternoon, and just before the bell rings at the end of school, I ask my secretary to bring Bunty to my office. She looks nervous when she comes in.

“You’re not in trouble, Bunty,” I say. “Come and sit down. Next term you’ll be going to the senior school and they have a gymnastics team. I’m going to recommend that the P.E. teacher lets you try out for it.”

“Why me, Miss?”

“Because you’re a budding gymnast. I’ve noticed you use the jungle gym every lunch time. You’re quite an athlete.” She smiles, a faint blush on her cheeks. “In fact, I’ll let you in on a little secret if you promise not to tell anyone about it.”

“I promise.”

“I took some pictures of you hanging upside down. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Mind? Why should I mind?”

“Well, because I should have asked you first, but anyway, what’s done is done. Would you like to see them? Come round to this side of the desk.” She stands beside me and I have an almost irresistible urge to run my hand up the inside of her thigh and feel her up. I open the file of the still pictures and scroll through them. “You do that so effortlessly,” I say, “with such grace. You’re very pretty, you know.”

“Thank you, Miss. No, I don’t mind you taking pictures.”

“Did you know that I attended this school as a girl? I used to play on the jungle gym, just like you do. To be honest, I kind of enjoyed showing off my knickers. I know that sounds silly, but I just liked being naughty. I used to pretend that lots of people were watching me.”

“I know what you mean. It is kinda fun. Sometimes one of the teachers will tell me off but most days, there’s no staff around.”

“Except me, looking out of this window.” I stand and lead her over to the window and put my arm round her shoulder. “I have a perfect view.”

“I think I’ve seen you once or twice, Miss, looking at me.”

“And it didn’t bother you?”

“Oh, no. Not at all.”

“I even made a video,” I say.

“Oh, can I see it, please, Miss?” I sit down in my chair and play the video that Vicky emailed me this morning, on my laptop. The camera has zoomed in nicely and the pictures is clear and steady. We watch it, silently.

I whisper in her ear. “You look adorable, Bunty.”

“You can see my nipples. I wish I had boobs. Look, I’m as flat as a board.” To my surprise and delight, she lifts her dress right up under her chin, giving me a beautiful close up of her torso, clad only in her adorable white cotton knickers.

“I love you just the way you are, Bunty. You’re gorgeous!”

“I have a secret too, Miss.”

“Really? I promise I won’t tell anyone. What is it?”

She hesitates, her eyes cast down. Then, “I’m in love with you.” She glances up at me, looking scared. “I’m sorry. I just had to tell you.” So my suspicion was correct, she does have a crush on me.

“Don’t be sorry, Bunty. To be honest, I’m a little bit in love with you myself.”

She still has her dress lifted up, so I stand and put my arms round her, holding her close. I can smell her hair. Her arms go round my waist and as she bends her head back to look up at me, I kiss her on the lips, not just a peck, but the lingering kiss of two lovers. My heart is pounding.

As I lift my head, my arms prevent her dress from falling back down. I lean back and look at her. “You look so adorable, Bunty. Don’t tell anyone, but I have a thing about little girls showing off their knickers. I’m sorry, I just can’t take my eyes off you.”

“That’s all right, Miss. You can look for as long as you like. This is fun.”

I slide my hands down her back and cup her buttocks, giving them a gentle squeeze, and then I just cant help myself; I take a huge risk. My whole future is on the line here. I could lose my job and go to jail, but I just have to touch her. I run my hand between her legs, my middle finger running up and down her little girl’s slit. To my utter joy, she doesn’t pull away, on the contrary, she leans into me and puts her arms round me. “Does that feel nice?” I ask.

Her eyes are closed. “Mmmmm, yes, it kinda tickles, but I like it. I do it to myself at night in bed but I put my hand inside my knickers. You can do that if you want.”

My head is spinning as I slide my hand down inside the front of her knickers and touch her most private part. I can feel my own pussy getting wet. I slide the tip of my finger inside her and she lets out a little gasp. Then I realise where we are and what we’re doing. I take my hand out and suck my finger. She grins.

“That was naughty,” I say, “so it has to be a secret. Is your mum going to pick you up?”

“No, I walk home. It’s only ten minutes. Mum doesn’t get home until after six.”

“So you’re all alone at home until then?”

“Yes.”

“Let me drive you home, and perhaps I could stay for a while.” Her face lights up.

We leave my office and go into the playground. It’s deserted. Everyone has left and the cleaners don’t come until later. We stand and look at the jungle gym. “Do it one more time for me,” I say.

Without hesitating, she jumps up, grabs the top bar then swings her legs up, hooking them over the bar. Her dress falls as expected and now I have a perfect close up view of what I’d been seeing from a distance. She hangs for a few seconds, then swings down again, her face flushed.

“Your turn,” she says, grinning at me.

I look around. There’s no one in sight. It wouldn’t do for anyone to see the headmistress performing on the jungle gym. I grab the bar and swing my legs up. I haven’t forgotten how to do it. I hang upside down, my skirt falling over my upper body, leaving my white briefs on view. I can see her staring at me, her eyes huge.

“Awesome, Miss,” she breathes.

Back on my feet I say, “Now I’ll take you home.”

“And stay with me for a while?”

“Yes, if you let me look at your knickers.”

“Will you let me look at yours?” My heart leaps.

“Absolutely!” I grin. “Will you let me take yours off?”

She giggles. “If you’ll let me take yours off, too.”

I take her hand and we walk towards my car. Perhaps we could swing by Vicky’s house.

By handheld

{ This story was originally posted at Lesbian Lolita in July 2010 }

Brenda was eleven, would be twelve in September. It was summer, and she was in Rochester, Minnesota, seeing doctors. She was crazy. Her parents believed so, at least. They’d spent a week there already, sending her around for tests, making her talk endlessly about herself as they sat in the corners of rooms, frowning, weeping, grinding teeth.

“Why do you want to be a boy?” the doctors always asked.

“How long have you wanted to be a boy?” was another standby.

“Do you wish you had a penis?” was her favorite irritation, along with “Do you dream about having a penis?” Both questions always made her giggle, despite herself, and that often made her twice as angry as she’d been the second before.

“Have you ever been… touched… down there? Has anyone ever molested you? Have you ever been forced to… touch… someone else’s private parts?” those were always trotted out in some form or other sooner or later, sometimes with her parents present, sometimes after they were asked to go down the hall for a bit. The times her mother heard it were always the same: a gasp, a choking sound, leather creaking as her grip tightened on her purse. Her father would cough, shuffle his feet.

“I feel like a boy” she always answered.

“Since forever” she shrugged.

“Not at all” she tittered behind her hands, blushing. “I don’t remember” she rolled her eyes a lot, tried to show how silly it all was, to be asked about penises!

“No” and “No” and “NO!” she squirmed, feeling icky, dirty, irritated by it all.

Which answers they believed would vary, with interesting results.

The vaginal examinations were horrible, fascinating, and endless. Her clitoris was measured for length, girth, sensitivity and response. Her pelvis was x-rayed, magnetically imaged, ultrasonically bombarded, and digitally manipulated. Her anus was fingered repeatedly, deeply.

Every doctor was male, and every examination left her soaking wet, breathless, and anxious to get to a bathroom.

After the first full week, her parents decided she needed a break. There was a rodeo barely over an hour’s ride away; Brenda’s parents drove her out there on Saturday morning in silence, exhausted. It was an all-women’s rodeo – “Barrels and Breakaway”, it was called. Her mother told her plainly why they picked it. At least, she more or less did.

“Maybe we should take you to these… kinds of things, Brenda. There are so many girls out there living normal lives. You need to see more of that, I think.” Her mother was tall and beautiful, a former model in New York City. She played tennis three times a week and still did shoots for the JC Penney catalog and the Sear’s Women’s Wear Sunday circulars three or four times a year. She didn’t move her head at all when she talked. She kept her face pointing straight ahead, her back stiff.

“It’s Ben, Mom,” Brenda muttered from the back seat, flipping angrily through the copy of The Hobbit that she’d finished three nights before, trying not to look at all the cows. “And rodeo girls aren’t girly-girls, anyway. What kind of normal do you want me to be?”

“Brenda,” her father sighed, glancing back at her as he drove. He reached a hand back and patted her knee gently. Then he squeezed her knee, not so gently. “Stop sassing your mother.”

“Sorry,” Brenda mumbled, ashamed. She really did love her parents. They were the ones with the problem. She was just being who she was. Why was that so hard for people to accept? Why were they so embarrassed? So worried and angry and… weird about it all?

Her father was a stock broker, accustomed to analysis, risk, and volatility. He took surprises a lot better than her mother. Nevertheless, he lived in the world of math versus emotion, history versus mystery. A girl was a girl was a girl, no matter how she might feel otherwise about the matter.

“You’re just confused and scared, aren’t you? Getting your period now, it’s worried you.” He was sure her declarations of maleness stemmed from that – a fearful reaction to her newfound monthly bleed.

It was true, in a way: she hated her periods, and they did frighten her. They hurt so badly! The cramps kept her nearly incapacitated for days, and her panties would be such a disgusting mess. Super-thick pads didn’t sop it all up. She’d broken her hymen on the thickest tampon the supermarket sold, and that didn’t soak enough, either. Finally, at their family doctor’s suggestion, she’d put on a diaper. That, along with the pad and tampon, finally let her go out of the house on her heaviest days. Mortified. It was a hellish last three months of fifth grade. Everyone had to know when she was on the rag – those were the only days she ever wore a dress to school!

The doctor almost sent her to Minnesota about her periods, actually. But a heavy dosing of Motrin and a good supply of extra-duty Get-Around Adult Diapers seemed to do the trick. Brenda finally began to handle her periods with something approaching control. After all, it wasn’t impossible for an eleven year-old, even one in fifth grade, to start menstruating; why make a girl feel like a freak when what she needed was simply more pain medication and better absorption?

The rodeo featured girls from age four all the way up to a seniors class, with elderly ladies in tight blue denim jeans and ornate western-wear shirts hanging halfway off slathering mares with their white hair a-flutter, their little stetsons flipping onto their backs and bouncing madly, caught by the strap pulling at their wrinkled stretching throats. They twirled rope and made after terrified calves with war cries and whoops of joy that sent shivers down Brenda’s spine. These were her kind of women!

In the teen class, a tall, blonde girl in particular held Brenda mesmerized. Her hair was long and hung in a thick golden braid all the way down to her waist. Her jeans were so tight and so sweetly worn at the seat and knees, thinner there, lighter denim, the muscles of her thighs practically ripping the seams as she bent and swayed and thrust atop her horse. Her western shirt was simple, baby blue, with her name sequined on the back, just above the paper they’d pinned on that held her competitor number. Her name was Samantha. She raced barrels.

Brenda sat in the jittery wooden bleachers in a trance. At one point her father reached over, chuckling, and placed his finger beneath her chin, pushing her gaping mouth closed. “Maybe she should get into sports, baby,” he stage whispered to her mother. “Or… horses, at least?”

Then he leaned into Brenda’s shoulder and jostled her playfully. “Think you’d like to try this kind of thing out?”

Brenda, watching Samantha dismount behind the chutes, nodded. “Yeah. I think so….”

Shortly after that they let her go down alone to get them some hot dogs and drinks. It didn’t take Brenda long to find Samantha. She was heading up out of the stables, coming toward the concession stand, with a miniature copy of herself running behind, trying to keep up – a little sister, a cousin, maybe. A girl Brenda’s age. She had the same blonde hair, the same braid, the same baby-blue shirt.

Brenda ducked beneath the bleachers and stood breathlessly, watching them approach. She wondered if they’d seen her. She was wearing shorts and a tank top, not too girly, but not boyish, either. Despite her flat chest, the shape of her legs and her waist – although not terribly feminine – were fair enough giveaways that she wasn’t a boy. She couldn’t bear the thought of this tall, perfect girl seeing her that way.

Samantha was probably sixteen or seventeen, maybe older. Up close her breasts were evident enough despite her masculinizing cowgirl shirt – she had the kind of round handfuls that Brenda often found herself dreaming about in the middle of class, in the bathtub, as she watched TV and tried to do her homework. Samantha’s hips were nearly full, so nicely rounded, flaring out from a narrow belted waist.

Then she passed by, and her ass made Brenda clutch at the metal bleacher supports. Samantha’s cheeks separated deeply as her ass curved down and in, the seam of her denim marking off two lobes of flesh that pulled apart mightily as they came down around her anus. She had the kind of gap between her legs that boys coveted. She walked like she’d just been fucked hard.

The tag-along girl was cussing Samantha lustily as they cleared the port-a-potties and honed in on the hot dog stand.

“Well, fuck all, Sam! Just walk off and leave me why don’t you? What the hell kinda shit is that?” The girl stuck out her bottom lip and kicked dirt at Samantha’s heels. The bigger girl stopped short, and the smaller one ran right into her backside, bumped off, and nearly fell down.

Samantha coldly eyed the younger girl for several seconds. The tag-along ducked her head and pulled her hat down low over her brow. She was pinned with a number 19, and the sequins on the back of her shirt declared her name: Stacy. Her jeans weren’t nearly as tight or rounded out as Samantha’s. She was practically a stick in her clothes, long arms and legs, but the resemblance was too strong to deny. The girl was blood kin of some kind. They had the same face, the same hair, the same complexion. They stood the same way, facing off, hips cocked, jaw set, chest thrust out.

“Momma told you to stay with Starlight. Not follow me every damn where. Now you get on back before I swat you one.” Samantha stepped toward Stacy, but the smaller girl backed away.

“I just wanted to tell you don’t worry, is all,” Stacy protested. “You ain’t got the best time, I know. But it ain’t the worst, neither. And that got you into Sunday, don’t it? You can catch that skanky bitch tomorrow. I just know it.” She kept backing up and Samantha kept slowly coming, until Stacy’s back pressed against the crossed girders at the edge of the bleacher supports, just a few feet from where Brenda stood. Stacy thrust her hands into her pockets and fixed her eyes on her boots, shoulders slumped.

“That’s… that’s all I wanted to tell you, Sam. God damn.” Her voice was thick, and Brenda could see tears rolling down her cheeks. “Why you gotta be so fucking serious all the time, anyway?”

Then she turned abruptly and glared at Brenda. “And what the fuck do you think you’re staring at, huh?” She ducked under the crossed girders and came right at Brenda, who was now the one backing up, terrified. “You one of that bitch Courtney’s friends, huh? Some little fan? Some spying little dipshit?”

Brenda found a finger on her chest, poking hard. Up close, even in the shadows, Brenda could see how puffy Stacy’s eyes were, how pink on the edges and hurt. The tears made her blotchy. She had white, crooked teeth, missing a few where the baby ones had fallen out. Her breath smelled like peanuts.

“Hey, now. Stop that. Come on,” Samantha said, suddenly at Brenda’s side, prying Stacy away from her. She turned and apologized. “I’m sorry, kid. Really. My sister’s kind of crazy.”

Brenda managed to nod, swallow, and kind of smile. Samantha didn’t notice. She was already piloting Stacy out from under the bleachers and away from the concession stand. “You stupid littlebiddy,” she snarled at her little sister, holding her by the back of her jeans, fist clenched around her belt. “You go yelling at fans like that and they’ll kick you flat out of competition for sure. Don’tnever do that again.”

Stacy flapped her arms and squealed “Sorry!” over and over, but Samantha wasn’t letting go. “Now listen here. I’m taking you back to watch over Starlight, and you will stay there!”

Brenda made her way around and back up into the bleachers, shaking, the hot dogs and drinks forgotten. Her parents asked what was wrong, but she wouldn’t answer except to shrug and say she’d gotten to see “lots of cool stuff”. She watched the rest of the competition with her knees grinding slowly together, her thighs pressing sweetly against each other.

Up close, she’d seen Samantha up close! Her eyes were so blue! They were like lakes, like the sky in a lake in the mountains! And her teeth were white and straight – with braces – but still perfect! Sure, her breath stank. It was like onions, maybe a little like old potato chips and just waking up, but Brenda wanted terribly to kiss her. She’d only been six inches away. Oh, if only!

On the ride home Brenda begged her parents to let her go back the next day, and they happily agreed. Anything to get their girl around some role models.

Brenda was careful to dress as boyishly that day as possible. Her hair was always cut extremely short, anyway, so all she had to do was throw on her number 34 Oilers t-shirt with her loose-fitting jeans and tennis shoes, and she was every bit the slobby boy. Her mother appeared to actually swallow her own tongue when Brenda finished dressing, but her dad just laughed. “Well, one thing at a time, baby. One thing at a time.”

Her parents bought better seats that second day, so Brenda was much closer to the action. On the way in they bought her a pair of cowboy boots from the vendor who’d set up shop from the back of a pickup truck in the parking lot, plus a straw stetson from the pickup next to that one. She wore the hat but not the boots, afraid they’d make her fall over.

Her mother couldn’t help but tell her how cute she looked in the hat. Brenda knew she blushed for a long time after that.

Stacy’s group went out just before noon, and, Brenda had to admit, the skinny girl was really good. She seemed to float above and around her horse more than sit on it; the horse barely appeared to notice she was even there. They tore around the barrels to a new record time, and as the ribbon got pinned on her proud chest Brenda couldn’t help but clap for all she was worth. The girl’s eyes were on fire now, and her smile wasn’t a bit bad at all.

Soon after that Brenda went down with her family get some food. “I’m going to go see… more stuff while you’re in line,” Brenda told them, not waiting for their permission nor their refusal before she walked directly away, beyond the port-a-potties. “I’ll see you back up in the seats later!” she called back over her shoulder. Her heart pounded as she made her break for it. She was all eyes for blue shirts with sequins on the back.

Several rows of trailers and pickup trucks were parked a hundred yards or so beyond the stables and the maze of temporary pens at the back of the ring. There wasn’t any kind of fence to separate the competitors’ area from the spectators, and soon Brenda found herself right in the midst of all kinds of rodeo gals and a handful of men and boys, getting friendly grins, courteous little nods. It was the lunch break for the entire rodeo, so a lot of fans and family were milling around the trailers, too. Brenda felt comfortable just wandering around, trying to nod back and touch fingers to the brim of her hat now and then, feeling kind of cool. She found herself wishing she’d put on her new boots, after all.

At the far end of the last row of trailers was a sizable pond, set back behind a stand of river birch. A low pier extended fifty feet out across the water, with a rowboat tethered at the end. Brenda wandered aimlessly to the bank of the little lake, trying to decide whether or not she should walk out onto the planks.

“You got rocks in your socks or what?” came a voice. Brenda froze, then spun around. There was a covered concrete slab in among the trees, with a picnic table at the center, a small grill beside. A woman in a baby-blue western shirt was flipping a burger, talking back over her shoulder. “Get me them buns out of the bag! You might’a just won a damn race, girl, but you still got to help with lunch.”

Stacy came out from behind the woman, then, making faces and swinging a bag of hamburger buns like a lasso. “Aw, Momma, don’t shit your britches or nothin’. I got ya’ covered.” She set the buns out to her mother’s satisfaction, then went back out of sight on the other side of the picnic area. Several other females were there, all in the same kind of baby blue western shirts, a few generations-worth of relations, apparently. Stacy wasn’t the youngest, and her mother wasn’t the oldest. There wasn’t a man in sight.

“Well now. Howdy,” said Stacy’s mother, eying her cautiously, a lot like Brenda was a skittish horse. Brenda nearly jumped out of her sneakers. She stood only about a hundred feet away, though, so she should have expected to be spotted. She hung her head, feeling like a trespasser, and made to leave. Stacy’s mom smiled, though, and said, “You hungry for a burger?”

Brenda managed to call out, “No, thanks!” and fled.

She didn’t risk a glance back until she got all the way through the trees, nearly to the trailers. There were the blue shirts, the smoke coming off the grill. How could she have missed seeing that before? There was Stacy, showing off for a couple of younger girls sitting on a cooler. They squealed with delight, it seemed, at Stacy’s every move.

“You’re that kid from yesterday,” a voice rose from nearby. It came from the trailer closest to the trees, at the very end of the row. A figure came up on the other side of the screen door, wearing a baby-blue shirt. “What brings you back ’round here? Ain’t much to see, you know.”

It was Samantha. Brenda gulped for air and slowly approached the trailer’s steps, plunging her hands in her pockets and making her best boy-scowl.

“I got bored,” she said, shrugging. “Thought I’d check things out back here.”

Samantha snorted, rolling her eyes. Brenda thought she’d die. Couldn’t she even get two sentences right?

“Only thing back this-a-way is a bunch a’ crazy rodeo gals,” Samantha chuckled. “And I do mean crazy.” She opened the screen door and stood in the doorway, looking down at Brenda, smiling. “Shoot, you already met crazy number one yesterday, didn’t you?”

Brenda tried to smile back, cocking her head in what she hoped was a handsome way. “You mean your sister?” she laughed, honestly. “Yeah, she was pretty crazy.”

Samantha rolled her eyes. “Shoot, that yesterday weren’t nothin’. You should’a seen her at Mason City last year. Damn girl punched old Courtney right in the eye. They suspended her all season for that one.” She stepped back a little, still holding the screen door open. Brenda didn’t know what to say.

But the older girl smiled and shook her head, apparently used to stares. She was that pretty.

There was something else, too. Something Brenda couldn’t quite identify, but it was there in that glance, the long look the two of them took at one another. Later on, as she gained experience and confidence – especially after Dr. Bodson would take her under her wing – Brenda would know what was going on in those kinds of looks, that kind of eye contact – the almost feral intensity of the attraction, the silent questioning, the growing certainty, the shimmering desire that quickly caught and completely changed a girl’s entire demeanor, from her expression to her posture to the way she breathed, talked, and waited for the next move.

Brenda finally broke eye contact, blushing, and Samantha made the move quickly. “Why don’t you come on up here and sit a spell? Have a Coke?” She backed farther into the trailer as Brenda slowly ascended, unable to feel her feet move at all. A tingling between her legs surged through her so strongly she almost felt nauseated, her belly quivering. Her pussy began to rapidly soak her panties right through. Brenda thought she could almost hear it squishing around as she stepped across the threshold into the trailer.

It was then that Brenda noticed Samantha’s shirt. It wasn’t what the other girls and women were wearing at the picnic area. The teenager had on a simple t-shirt, the same baby blue as her western shirt, but a plain old t-shirt all the same. On the front was a screen-printed silhouette of a girl bent low over a flowing, graceful horse. Soderlund Stables arched above the horse and rider in pleasant script.

And then Brenda noticed something else: Samantha wasn’t wearing any jeans. Or shorts. Her t-shirt didn’t make it even halfway over her hips, and her panties were a plain white cotton.

Barefoot, she was a lot shorter out of her boots. Her head was only a hand higher than Brenda’s. Her toes were painted bright red.

Her legs were covered with a thin sheen of blonde hair, almost like fur. It looked so fine, so silky, and Brenda suddenly wanted more than anything to stroke the girl’s legs. She wanted to rub her cheeks against them. She wanted to lick them, suck the hairs into her mouth, tasting every fiber.

Samantha was just turning to the nearby fridge as Brenda stepped fully into the trailer and let the screen door close behind her, heart in her throat. She was alone. The trailer was still and silent. There weren’t even any lights on.

“I was just gettin’ myself ready to ride,” the teenager said, opening the refrigerator and bending over. Brenda stared hard at Samantha’s perfect, splitting ass. It was like an upside-down heart. The cheeks were tilted toward each other at the top, away from each other at the bottom. She was so open, her panties didn’t cover much but the empty crack between, and her tight musky holes.

“Already ate my lunch, you know, just chicken salad,” Samantha said, still bent halfway into the fridge, her torso out of sight around the door, the sole of one foot rubbing the top of the other as she rummaged around. “That’s how I do it, ‘fore I ride.”

She came back up with a bottle of Coca-Cola in hand, smiling. It was then that Brenda finally noticed that Samantha wasn’t wearing a bra. Her nipples were stiff, poking against the underside of her t-shirt like hard little fingers.

“I like some alone time,” Samantha purred, still holding out the Coke. Brenda finally reached for it, but the older girl abruptly pulled it back, stepping farther along into the kitchenette.

“No, now wait a sec,” she said, opening drawers. “We need that dang opener….”

“I- It’s OK,” Brenda stuttered. “I should just go, you know. Let you get ready.”

Samantha turned back to her, concerned. “Hey now, I don’t need to go nowheres for a whole ‘nother hour.” She shook her head. “I got plenty a’ time to get dressed and such.”

She waved the Coke in the direction of the picnic table and all her relations. “That’s why they gone and got out of my way, see? I need to get myself focused before they swoop on in to ‘help’ with all their noise and stupid crap.” She shook her head even harder and looked Brenda hard in the face. “I just can’t stand all the crap, you know?”

Brenda didn’t know, but she managed a shrug that seemed to say a lot to Samantha. The teenager set the Coca-Cola down on the counter and smiled. “What’s your name, anyway?” she asked, her eyes roaming Brenda up and down.

“Ben!” Brenda blurted, her voice cracking. “I’m Ben.”

Samantha frowned a little, but only for a moment. She went back to the fridge and popped the bottle cap using the door handle. “It’s got a thing built-in,” she said, shrugging, passing the fizzy soda to her. “Guess I forgot.”

Brenda wasn’t sure exactly what was going on, but it suddenly felt very different in the trailer. Samantha was looking her over again. Studying her. Brenda busied herself drinking the Coke, hoping to show off her manly adam’s apple, make a convincing display of Mean Joe Green-style gulping.

She finished quickly, proud of herself despite forcing down the painful urge to belch, and handed the bottle back. Samantha took it and ran her tongue around the bottle’s mouth, then slid the tip of her tongue inside. She never took her eyes off Brenda’s face.

“You know what I like to do with these Coke bottles, Ben? When I’m gettin’ ready to ride? Matter-a-fact, I was just about to do it when you walked up….”

Samantha put her mouth around the bottle, got her lips way down on the neck, and held them there for several seconds. Her eyes were watering when she finally pulled off the glass with a little gasp. Two long strings of saliva ran from the Coke bottle back up to her lips.

“First I get it wet,” she murmured, slowly licking the bottle neck up and down, pausing several times to load her tongue with a plentiful supply of spit.

“Then …” she continued, reaching down and pulling the crotch of her panties aside, “I shove …” she put the mouth of the bottle against her pussy with her other hand, pressing upward, “… and I shove …” she pulled it out, then pushed it back in, then did it again, “… until I can’t shove no more.”

The teenager sank against the counter, moaning, working the bottle farther and farther up inside herself. She watched Brenda and smiled, flashing her perfect teeth behind those braces in the dim trailer light.

Brenda could barely stand still and watch. She wanted to touch herself, to slide a hand in her jeans and slop around inside her soaked panties. Did girls really do this to… to things? Stick things up inside? Brenda watched the bottle disappear and reappear over and over under Samantha’s experienced, agile fingers and imagined herself doing it, too. She flashed to other objects she could use, things back at her house, right now, just waiting for her to fuck. An empty beer bottle. A hot dog. A cucumber. The handle of a hairbrush. Her bedpost.

Brenda swayed, almost overwhelmed. A shiver took hold of her, head to toe. She began sweating profusely. Her entire body seemed to itch, all at once.

“You wanna take a taste of this bottle now?” Samantha panted. She slowly pulled the Coke bottle out of herself, raising it between them. “Bet you’ll love it.”

Brenda wanted to jump toward the older girl, to leap at her and… and… she didn’t know quite what! But she was ready to move! Mastering every ounce of her eroding self-control, the child stepped in closer and put her hands lightly around Samantha’s wrist, pulling the bottle slowly toward her own mouth. Her tongue found the neck. The glass was slick, almost slimy. It smelled faintly sweet, faintly fishy, and it tasted like nothing Brenda had ever known before. She tipped the mouth of the bottle into her own mouth, then pushed it as far inside as she could get, imitating Samantha’s mouth from a few moments before.

“I like seeing you do that,” Samantha crooned, sliding her body up against Brenda’s side. Her breasts pushed hotly against Brenda’s arm. Her leg crooked itself around Brenda’s, her cunt squishing hard against Brenda’s hip. Her mouth breathed fire on Brenda’s neck, her ear.

“I like to fuck myself before I ride, Ben. I fuck whatever’s around. You ever do that?”

Brenda shivered, turning her face away from the bottle, opening her mouth to Samantha’s, their tongues dancing. The teenager moaned her approval. Brenda knew how to kiss. She’d spied on her mom and dad plenty of times. She knew a lot. And she had kissed other girls before, too. That was what had landed her in Rochester: her mom caught her frenching Adriana, the daughter of the Puerto Rican lady who cleaned their house. It was the third girl she’d been caught kissing that spring, in fact, and that was simply three times too much.

Samantha’s arms slipped around Brenda’s neck as the girl turned herself fully into the teenager’s embrace. Brenda’s nipples rubbed against the inside of her shirt as it slid slowly back and forth. Samantha’s firm, round breasts rose and fell against her own flat ones, sending cascades of pleasure down to her toes and back, funneling it all, finally, deep into her center.

Her clit throbbed. Samantha was grinding her thigh against it, through her jeans. Brenda could barely stand. Samantha broke off their kiss and laughed, pulling back just enough to look Brenda in the eye.

“Why is your name Ben?” she whispered.

Brenda came accidentally. Samantha had reached down, the moment the question left her lips, and used her hand to squeeze and knead on Brenda’s swollen, needful pussy. Her big clit was caught between her own pubic bone and the heel of Samantha’s hand as it drove against her through her rapidly dampening jeans. The girl’s knees buckled. She hit the floor shaking, her legs jelly.

“BRENDA WILLIAMS, PLEASE REPORT TO THE CONCESSION STAND IMMEDIATELY.”

The public address system blared harshly in the distance, rattling through the trailer like a sonic wrecking ball. Brenda couldn’t help but jerk herself up straight the moment she heard her name. Samantha laughed and helped Brenda steady herself.

“Hey, I think that’s you,” she said, kissing the tip of Brenda’s nose. “Must’a wandered off, huh?”

Brenda could barely breathe, but she managed to gasp, “No… no. That isn’t me.” She shook her head, eyes burning, knees still shaking. “I’m Ben. Ben.”

Samantha clucked her tongue, then leaned in and licked the girl on her ear. “Sure, honey. Whatever you want.”

Brenda knew she was caught in her lie. She knew it was stupid to lie. But she didn’t feel like Brenda. She wasn’t Brenda. She was Ben – a silly fucked-up dickless boy with periods that hurt and parents who wanted her fixed.

Brenda knew she was lost. Crazy. She didn’t even want a dick. She liked what she had. Her body felt just right to her. But not her identity. She wanted a name, a place. A role in the world. She wanted a life. The one that fit.

And there was Samantha. Brenda certainly wanted her. And any other girl, really. Older, younger, whatever. She wanted them badly. She’d burned for them for as long as she could remember, never questioning her need. Now she had her chance, but why did it have to be so hard? Why couldn’t she just be a girl, too, let her guard down, would it really be so bad?

Brenda leaned into the teenager, hugging herself, letting Samantha wrap her arms around her and nuzzle her neck. She didn’t know what to do. She wanted to stay. She had to go.

She could smell her pussy, feel her juices smearing everywhere inside her jeans, her soaked panties pulled up into the crack of her ass. She throbbed.

Samantha slid her hands beneath Brenda’s shirt, slowly running her fingers up and over the girl’s rigid, fat nipples. Brenda moaned. She leaned back into the counter, steadying herself with her hands to either side of the counter top, opening her entire front to whatever Samantha wanted to do.

“Oh God,” Brenda whispered. “Oh God.”

Samantha’s other hand slid inside the front of Brenda’s jeans, fingers slipping cautiously under the waistband of her panties. The teenager pulled off a nipple with a loud pop. She ran her tongue up Brenda’s throat, then kissed her deeply again. Brenda moaned into the older girl’s mouth as Samantha’s fingers finally found her clit. They paused, trembling, over the girl’s engorged, slippery nob of flesh. Samantha broke off the kiss and leaned back, studying Brenda’s face.

Brenda wept a little and tried to meet her gaze. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

Samantha smiled, though, and once again kissed the tip of her nose. “For what?” she asked. “Feels just right to me. Feels fuckin’ amazing.”

Then Samantha grinned and knelt before her. She pulled her hand out of Brenda’s pants and set herself to work on the girl’s button-fly. Brenda watched, bewildered, longing. Samantha sighed with satisfaction, glancing up, as the last button gave way before her long, nimble fingers.

“Think I can see it, honey?” she asked. “Think I can get a little taste?”

Brenda nodded and stepped out of her shoes and socks, out of her jeans, out of her panties. Samantha helped her with it all, grinning hungrily. Brenda finally pulled her shirt off over her head and leaned back against the counter, nude, dripping, ready.

Samantha leaned over, spreading Brenda’s knees apart, wiggling up close between them. The teenager lightly, tenderly kissed Brenda’s clit. Then licked. Sucked.

And Brenda came again.

By hornykate

{ This story was originally posted at Lesbian Lolita in August 2013 }

We used to live in a block of flats. It wasn’t a bad area. We had some rough types as neighbours, though they may have thought the same about us. I was a single mother with three young daughters aged eight, seven and six. They were friends with some of the neighbours’ kids and I used to enjoy watching them all play on the front garden through my upstairs kitchen window.

Some of the kids I REALLY enjoyed watching, such as Angel (who wasn’t an angel at all, she was the opposite, and I spent many nights wondering just how un-angelic she could be!). Then there was May, a seemingly quiet child, but one who had some odd character traits. She was eight years old but she always used to aim straight for my six year old, and often tried to pick her up as though she were a baby. Once or twice I caught them in some seemingly private place whispering furtively. I kept my eye on that girl. There was definitely something a little strange about her.

I’d bought one of those flimsy pop-up tents for my daughters to play in, and one day I noticed from my window that May and my six-year-old Daisy had gone into the tent and were clearly on their own in there. A gut feeling told me to go downstairs and see what they were up to. For some reason, I literally crept up to the tent, feeling sure I’d catch them in the middle of something they shouldn’t be doing, and when I whipped back the tent door flap my six year old was naked.

“What on earth is going on here?” I asked, outwardly calm but inwardly a little less so.

“May told me to take my clothes off!” said Daisy, looking for all the world like she was about to cry.

I calmed my little girl down, not wanting her to think she was in trouble, then looked to May. “Well?” I asked, “why did you do that, May?”

She had no answer. I didn’t expect her to have one, and again I didn’t want her to feel she was in trouble. Kids stuff, I told myself. Natural curiosity.

“It’s okay,” I told them both, “but keep your clothes on next time.”

That was May. Pleasant, polite, quiet. But odd. I thought of the adage ‘quiet rivers run deep’ and that’s how I felt about her. She was no taller than Zoë, my eldest, but she seemed so because she was skinnier. Facially, she was beautiful. Long blonde hair, lithe of limb, but always seeming a little on the unwashed side. In the USA you’d probably describe her as white trailer-trash. Is that the phrase?

Her lack of personal hygiene actually did something for me. It evoked a very strong emotional response that came from my childhood.

When I was about ten I had what was undoubtedly my first lesbian experience. There was a group of us that hung around together; school friends and a few sisters of school friends. One of these sisters was a girl called Tracey. The family were clearly very poor, and looking back now, I realize that the mother had what we now call learning difficulties.

Anyway, one day I happened to find myself alone with Tracey, on a piece of waste land we called the rec, short for Recreational Area. It was dusk. She was sitting opposite me on the grass. I could see her panties. They were originally white but they seemed faded and slightly yellow. And there was a piss stain right on the crotch. I couldn’t keep my eyes off it. The discoloured panties were probably a reaction from an even earlier childhood event that I wasn’t aware of, but it was such an erotic turn on for me.

We talked about nothing much really, but I was slowly moving closer and closer to her. I’m not deliberately skipping details here, I genuinely can’t remember how it happened, but I began kissing her. Then I had her stand up in front of me so I could kiss her cunt through her panties. It seems really odd that I should have done that, but at the time it felt like a normal thing to do.

I was a rather sexual little thing as a youngster, starting masturbating when I was seven or eight and often looking for things I could put into myself. I even did something I feel a little shame about: I took a carrot from the veg bowl and used it on myself, actually getting it inside my cunt, and for dinner that night we had a beef stew and my little carrot was there, in the dinner! (Oops!). But I’m losing myself in my memories.

Suffice it to say, I had a sense that May was, shall we say, a little under-washed. And what with that, and my discovery of her undressing my youngest in a tent, my thoughts that night as I lay in bed were not exactly innocent.

The following days were free of incident. No more unusual behaviour. But about a week later, I was watching the children play in the garden. My ex was due to pick the kids up and, bang on time he turned up, the children waved me goodbye, my ex blew me a kiss (we were still friends!) and my three jumped aboard his beat up Rover and were gone, leaving a few stray children in the garden. It was a communal space, so they carried on playing.

May was there, wearing a skirt that was too short and a crop-top that revealed a flat little tummy. Ah, her skinny little legs. I loved them.

I noticed her younger sister was there too, just as something happened that shocked me, it was so unexpected and so out of character. May, for whatever reason, hit her little sister really hard on the back of the head.

I knew she was odd, but violent? Her little sister started crying. It was upsetting, to be honest, and I felt quite angry. I don’t like bullying of any sort. I opened the kitchen window and shouted “May!”

She looked up and froze. I curled my Peter Pointer finger and beckoned her upstairs. Why, I wasn’t sure. She wasn’t my child. I had no real authority to tell her off. But then, I wasn’t going to tell her off, I just wanted to talk to her, tell her what she’d done was not acceptable.

I heard her slowly climb the concrete stairs, and I waited until I could see her in the frosted glass of the door. I opened it, sharply, as if to convey my authority. “Come in a minute, May,” I said, straight faced, “I’d like a word.” She came inside and I closed the door and ushered her into the living room. “Sit down, please.”

She sat. Legs together. Prim. Abashed. She knew she’d been rumbled. I sat on the coffee table opposite her, a big solid oak thing. “Why did you do that?”

“What?” she asked, quietly but sort of defiant.

“You know what. You hit your little sister. You made her cry.”

In spite of myself, I realized I was taking advantage of the fact she was staring at the floor by looking at her legs. Wrong, I know. It was funny, really. Funny peculiar, not funny ha-ha, that on the one hand I was being my usual maternal self in protecting a young child, but was at that moment being most UN- maternal in trying to look up this eight year old’s skirt.

“No-one likes a bully,” I said whilst desperately trying to alter the angle of my gaze, “and what I saw looked like bullying.”

Silence.

“How would you feel if someone older than you hit you on the back of the head?”

More silence. Then I noticed her poor little face. Tears were starting to roll down her cheeks.

I felt bad. Had I gone too far? Chastised too much? I left the coffee table and sat down next to her. She had her hands in her lap. I took one in my hands and stroked it gently. She didn’t pull away.

I apologized, but still insisting that she shouldn’t have done what she did. She agreed. She nodded her head, snuffled, wiped away the tears with her free hand. I was still stroking the other.

And then everything sort of changed. I moved a little closer so we touched, then slowly wrapped my arm around her shoulders. “Are you okay?” I asked. She nodded again, but was still a little tearful.

I was now rubbing, stroking her shoulder. And I could smell her. Unwashed female genitalia may not appeal to most, but for reasons I’ve already explained, it gets me every time. This smell, this aroma, took me back so many years. We sat there together, she slowly calming down, me slowly doing the opposite. I was still stroking her shoulder and she seemed to turn in to me, and it felt the most natural thing in the world to bring her towards me so her head was nestling on my shoulder. At that point I moved my hand away from HER shoulder and placed it on the side of her head, where I continued stroking, caressing.

I felt a little giddy. The close proximity of this child, the intimate contact, the smell, and yes, the shortness of her skirt all combined to create a situation that I knew I should put a stop to. I placed May’s hand back in her lap, but kept my own hand there, enclosing hers in mine so that my fingers rested on her bare leg, the one nearest me.

I was in a daze. My middle finger began to draw a vague arch on her thigh. It was a gamble. I was thinking, would I be able to explain such a thing if she suddenly sat bolt upright and asked what I was doing? Probably not. But I didn’t stop. Consider what’s happening, I told myself. I’m with an eight year old child, she has her head nestled in the crook of my neck, I’m drawing small figures on her thigh, she’s not pulling away, not running from my flat in hysterics, she’s actually more calm now than at any point since she walked through my door.

Then her legs parted, ever so slightly, and the vague one-fingered arcs I was tracing on her leg became bolder, more definitive. My breathing became more laboured as she nestled ever closer to me, her legs parting a little more. My finger, joined by the other fingers, began to caress her inner thigh, the smell becoming intoxicating.

I impetuously kissed the top of her head. May’s hair was clean, but I could smell the unwashed aroma of her sex, the panties that I guessed had not been changed for days, the beautiful heady aroma of piss and little girl cunt.

I was transported through the years, I was ten again and back with Tracey on the rec at dusk on a warm summer evening, licking the slightly soiled gusset of a preteen girl.

Back in the present, I hadn’t realized how high my hand had travelled along May’s thigh and… and… and my fingers were now touching the frilled edge of her knickers. I was stroking the sinews at the top of her thighs as she opened her legs as wide as she could.

Realizing the situation had already gone beyond my control, I ran my finger along her panty-covered slit. I’d gone past what would be acceptable, I was in the Kingdom of Desire, and I was lost. My middle finger was now sliding up and down the groove in her panties, and I could feel the wetness of her eight year old cunt. May was breathing heavily into my neck. My head was swimming as I traced the waistband of her knickers, felt the taut flatness of her tummy, diverted into her belly-button, then down and beneath the elastic to touch the bare, naked, hairlessness of her vulva.

She was wet. So wet, in fact, it surprised me. And I’m no expert, but I don’t think she was a virgin. I slid one finger inside her, not wanting to hurt her but it went in so easily that I added another finger. My God, she was wet. Really, yes, children do respond to sexual stimuli.

I had to kiss her, I wanted to so much. I positioned her head so she was looking towards me and leant forward until our lips met. She was no stranger to this. Her tongue slid into my mouth and, not wanting to be outdone, I met her tongue with mine. We kissed. I expected nervousness, timidity. But no, she kissed me like a lover, like one who has kissed before. I tasted her saliva. I used the hand I wasn’t fingering with to cup her face, feel her delicate cheekbones. My tongue was in her mouth, licking along her teeth.

I had two fingers inside May’s cunt, but wanted to taste her through her knickers, so I slid down to the floor and positioned myself between her legs. I looked up into her eyes as if seeking confirmation, and she just stared at me, her eyes sort of half-lidded, almost lizard-like, but aware enough of what I was about to do. I put a hand on each thigh to keep them apart, not that I thought I’d have any resistance. I looked, gazed, stared at her concealed slit.

Her panties, like Tracey’s, were slightly soiled, with a faint tint of yellow. I bent forward and ran my tongue along her piss scented cunt, thinking about taking her knickers off and putting them under my pillow. But I didn’t. I licked. And licked. And licked, until her knickers were so wet I could’ve wrung them out. I licked, then kissed her cunt, her prominent pubic bone, her beautifully flat tummy, her immature but developing chest, licking each nipple in turn, then up to her face, where I kissed her again. I wanted to kiss her hard, with passion, but didn’t. We kissed gently, delicately.

“Why’d you undress Daisy?” I asked, between kisses. “Did you want to do this with her?”

She didn’t answer, just smiled.

So I made the return journey down her skinny little body, kissing both her nipples, firstly through her crop-top, then rucking up the material so we could be skin on skin. Her breasts were barely there but her nipples stood out, enough for me to gently bite them.

After a minute or two I felt her hand on my head, exerting a gentle downward pressure, and I knew she wanted me between her legs again. But I wanted her to ask, so instead I raised my head so we were face to face.

“What do you want me to do?” I asked in a barely audible whisper.

“What you did before,” she replied, just as quietly.

“Tell me,” I said, “tell me you want me to lick your cunt.”

And slowly, the words came out. “I want you to lick me,” she said. I didn’t move. “I want you to lick my cunt. Please. Lick my cunt.”

I almost came there and then, but managed to control myself. Instead, I did as May asked. I kissed my way down that beautiful little body until my head was between her legs once more, looking at the now soaked gusset of her panties, the sight and smell driving me insane. I gently moved the gusset to one side and licked along her baby slit; up first, then moving downward, not stopping until my tongue was teasing her little butthole.

That seemed to trigger an erotic response from her, in that she lifted her legs up from the floor and drew her knees up to her body, exposing her puckered hole to my invasive tongue. And like her cunt, May’s rosebud was a tad unwashed, which inflamed my lust even further. My tongue first licked, teased, then slid into her rectum. Her breathing was ragged, laboured. I alternated between her ass and her cunt, savouring the delicious taste of both, my tongue slipping easily into both holes.

I wanted this little eight year old girl to come, wanted her to explode in my face. I could taste her cunt juice, I could taste her piss, and I could taste her shit too. That may revolt some, but it only made me want her more.

Then it happened. I felt May’s hands on my head as I concentrated on her clit, then her juices flowed into my mouth. And as she came, I was thinking of her in the pop-up tent with my daughter Daisy, wondering what would’ve happened had I not interrupted them. I had a feeling that would be a staple fantasy of mine for years to come.

By Donna and Thom

—- Clare —-

Donna and I had just managed to get off with a hand snaked into each other’s panties when we heard the car in the driveway. Thom and the girls were just getting in. I grabbed my sweat pants and threw them on and ran out the door. Typically I had time to get upstairs from my short rendezvous with Donna before they got to the house. If I had hesitated to French kiss her or cop one last feel of her gorgeous bum, then I would run part way up the stairs and then turn quickly around and act like I was coming down to greet them.

We were nearing the end of the week and the girls would be going back for another lesson with Donna. I got the impression from her that she would be teaching them oral techniques and expecting them to be able to bring their partner to orgasm before she would be letting them out of class. That in combination with my working on seducing them would result in the perfect storm that might culminate in my making love with my daughters, a fantasy that I had held for quite a long time but couldn’t figure out how to fulfill until Donna came along. Her teaching sex education at a private girls school gave me the perfect excuse for sending my girls for private lessons.

In addition to the great sex that I was thinking about having with my girls and that I WAS having with Donna, in the back of my mind, I was thinking that I needed to try to massage this whole experience into persuading my daughters to be lesbians from this point on and not to even begin to get involved with boys. I was thinking of making a similar declaration for myself, and maybe I would be able to commit myself to Donna if she would have me, though I wasn’t quite sure how I was going to deal with the girls’ father, Thom.

I had one more opportunity to be alone with the girls and make myself alluring before they were going for their next lesson with Donna. Donna always saw them after supper when Thom left for his card game. Since he was out of town this particular night, I would be alone with them from when they got out of school until they went downstairs.

Luckily, it was a hot, spring night which meant I could start out with very few clothes on to begin with. I selected a T-shirt cut off just below my boobs and no bra so that as I moved around or bent over, some parts of my tits would be exposed. For my bottom, I wore a pair of short-short cut-off blue-jean shorts and no panties underneath. I was counting on my shaved pussy being exposed around the legs of the shorts when I spread my legs apart.

When the girls came home from school, I told them to get into comfortable clothes, maybe their T-shirts and panties since they would be going to see Donna after we had a light supper. Being the obliging kids that they are, that is exactly what they did and came out with cut-off T-shirts themselves and their little cotton panties. So that their attention began to focus on me, I started off a conversation talking about their bodies and how lovely I thought they were becoming.

“Wow, Melinda,” I said, “your legs are becoming so long and shapely.”

“What about my legs?” Leslie asked even before Melinda had a chance to respond.

“Well, your legs are pretty nice Hon, but Melinda is maturing at her age. You will have a couple more years before that stuff begins to happen with you. See how her legs and mine are quite similar in size and shape?” I purposely spread my legs apart to show them off and give them a clear view of my pussy as it peeked out the edge of my shorts at them. I caught them both staring at it and not at my legs at all.

“Gees Mom, your cunny is showing,” said Leslie, Melinda still not saying a word.

“Oh, sorry. It’s just that it’s so hot I didn’t feel like wearing any panties. In fact, I’m thinking about stripping down naked since your father won’t be home tonight. Would you be upset about that if I ran around naked?”

“Oh, gees Mom, I don’t know. Would anyone be able to see you?” finally Melinda spoke up more worried about her own embarrassment than mine or her sister’s.

“Probably not; we’re on the second floor and you already know that Donna and I are close.” I stood up and stripped off my T-shirt and then my jeans shorts and sat back down naked.

“Ah, can I ask you about that?” Leslie said. “I mean are you and Donna going to be lesbians? And will you still be with Dad?”

I wasn’t exactly prepared for this conversation and I should have suspected that Leslie, my youngest, would figure it out before Melinda or at least say something about it before Melinda did.

“Well, you know that your dad and I are not exactly the closest couple in the world and that he and I both have lives of our own. You need to know that we have both agreed to let each other pursue any relationship that we might encounter to see where it might go. You can ask him about that agreement and I think he will concur.”

“I sort of did that, Mom,” Leslie said, “and he said the same thing. I didn’t tell him about Donna though, either about us or about you doing stuff with her.”

“I think I should thank you for that, dear. It’s too early in all of our relationships with Donna to be able to say with certainty what might happen next. But, I have been thinking that I sort of wished that I had committed myself to being a lesbian at your age and not had relationships with boys, even your father.”

“What about us? You would not have had babies if you only loved women,” Melinda finally found her voice.

“Not exactly. Lot’s of lesbian couples have babies, either through adoption or artificial insemination.”

“Artificial, what?” Melinda wanted to know, being a bit snotty that I had an answer to both her obvious and subtle question.

“Insemination. Sperm from a male donor that was given earlier and sometimes frozen. You can pretty much pick the sex and a lot of the characteristics. Anyway, in case you were wondering, you were all naturally conceived.”

“Do you think it’s better to be a lesbian, Mom and not have a boyfriend?” Leslie asked, still taking the lead.

“I’m close to saying I think so. Not all of me has made up my mind, but most of me has, and when we do, if we do, then our family will have many decisions to make. For the time being though, I think we should strip down to whatever we think will make us feel better in this heat and be comfortable.”

Both of my girls stripped off their T’s and panties and the three of us were naked, together in the family room. It was really a good feeling to see them naked and uninhibited and to be naked with them. We continued talking for a few more minutes and then I admonished them to get downstairs so as not to keep Donna waiting.

“Okay, run along. Donna will be waiting for you.”

“Like this Mom, shouldn’t we dress?” Melinda asked.

“No, I don’t think so. I think she’ll be happy to see you, just the way you are. Now scoot.”

—- Donna —-

When Clare left in such a hurry I felt empty and disappointed, realizing that she and I were truly bonding in a very special relationship. I could easily imagine our becoming partners in a permanent sense, raising her daughters as both mother and father to them, assuming, of course, that Thom could be persuaded to remove himself from the scene.

But that conjecture was premature, I realized, and though my pussy was still tingling from the sensations left there by Clare’s talented fingers, I decided to fix myself a drink, have a little supper, and wait for my little pupils to arrive for their next lesson in lesbian lasciviousness.

As I sipped my gin and tonic (easy on the tonic), I recalled my first session with the girls—their eagerness to explore each other’s young bodies, their delicious taste as I licked their little cunnies. The way they seemed to wholeheartedly warm to the lesbian way of loving. I couldn’t wait to teach them how to lick my pussy and eventually to taste their own mother’s delicious cunt cream.

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of two sets of feet pounding down the stairs, and before I could rise from my position on the couch, where I had been fingering my pussy while sipping at my drink, the girls burst in and I saw them in all their naked glory. What a beautiful sight they were as they rushed up and crawled onto the couch on either side of me and hugged me with their sweet, naked bodies.

“Well, what have we here?” I gasped, as they each placed a warm and wet kiss on my cheeks and let their hands wander over my thinly covered torso, feeling my breasts as the nipples hardened under their little probing fingers.

“Mommy says we are to do whatever you tell us to do,” cried Leslie, running her hand down into my shorts and toying with my pubic hair.

Melinda didn’t say anything but, lowering her head and reaching to pull my t-shirt up, bent to suck on my right nipple. Her hot little mouth just took the nipple in and made it stand up hard and wanting. I took the shirt the rest of the way off and motioned Leslie to glom onto my other breast, which she eagerly did.

It was heavenly to feel these two sweet, young girls sucking at my breasts, almost making me wish I had become a mother. But wait! I was having all the pleasure of being a mother without any of the pain or discomfort of child birth or the mess of taking care of infants. This was the best of both worlds!

As the girls noshed on my nipples, I caressed their lithe bodies, running my hands up and down their backs, cupping the little ass cheeks and letting my fingers explore the soft crevasses of their anuses and pussies.

When I could stand it no longer I pushed the girls away from me and sat up, suggesting we retire to the bedroom. The girls wanted a taste of my gin and tonic, so I let them each have a sip. Neither of them liked the taste, but I thought it might make them a little more open to what I had in mind for them in the bedroom.

We all plopped down on the bed together, and I asked them if they would like to get better acquainted with my pussy. They were eager to explore, so I lay on my back, stretched my legs apart and nudged their heads down to between my outspread thighs.

My pussy was wet and runny, and when I felt little fingers probing and playing with my nether lips, I began a slow, long orgasm that lasted the whole time the girls were at my glory hole. Leslie lost no time in being the aggressor, diving down to bury her face in my cunt and run her tongue up from the crack into my sopping pubic hair. Melinda followed suit, and soon I felt two sets of lips and two tongues swishing around and glorying in the honey at the opening of my womanhood. The girls took to cunt lapping like they were born for it, and soon I had to push them away so I could get my breath.

After resting a bit while the girls played with each other’s pussies, I told Melinda to kneel over my face while Leslie went back to sucking my pussy. I took Melinda’s lovely sweet spot into my mouth as I held her ass cheeks in my hands and she pressed her cunny into me as she wriggled and writhed in a sweet orgasm. Leslie got me going again quickly, and we continued until all three were lying in a heap, sweaty and satisfied.

While we lay there, one girl on each side of me, them idly playing with my pussy and breasts, me caressing them softly, Leslie piped up and said, “Donna, do you suppose our mom would enjoy doing this kind of thing with us?”

I was taken aback by this question, but pleased that it had come from one of them rather than from me. “Why, I bet she would enjoy it,” I responded. “Shall we get her down here and see what she thinks?”

Leslie hopped right off the bed and ran to the door saying, “I’ll go up and get her to come down here now.”

In a few minutes I heard footsteps on the stairway again, and in walked Clare, being led by the hand by her darling daughter, Leslie. “Mom! You came!” gushed Melinda, perhaps a bit surprised to see her mother, also nude, approaching the bed and climbing on, giving me a warm kiss on the lips as she did.

Then I orchestrated a lovely scene in which Clare was able to explore her daughters’ youthful bodies and then allow them to learn the taste of their mother’s pussy. Meanwhile, Clare and I exchanged warm kisses and licks, and when all of us were exhausted, we lay together in the bed, a warm and happy family, and plotted how we were going to make a lovely lesbian life together.

By Donna and Thom

—- Clare —-

Ever since our first love making, Donna and I had been catching a quickie in the afternoons when she got home from teaching. My girls were usually doing their homework, and I didn’t have to worry about Thom coming home for several hours, and I’ve usually pretty much prepared supper ahead of time.

On the afternoon I told Donna what I had gotten the girls to agree to, I had gone down on her on her bed and she had wrapped her knees around my head, her lower legs and feet were down my back. She was thrusting her sex into my mouth and I told her about the arrangement as I caught a breath of air.

The thought of it seemed to really turn her own because when I got back to business she had a super orgasm that drenched my face with her cum. Her orgasm got me pretty excited as well and I climbed up from between her legs and lay on top of her and gave her a sloppy opened mouth kiss, smearing her great scent all over her face from mine. I then pulled my self up to a straddle over her tummy and masturbated myself to a pretty neat finish as well. I like to pump my pussy while someone is watching. Imagining that it was Donna and my daughters got me very turned on.

I was a complete wreck the entire day that the girls were going to Donna’s for their first lesson. As soon as Donna came home, I checked in with her to make sure she was still a go. She was having a drink to relax herself and offered me one which I quickly accepted. She showed me the pajamas and panties she was planning to wear when the girls came down later, and asked me if I thought they would be ok.

I wanted to see her in them and told her so. I actually wanted to see her out of them, and have her bare bottom on my face. We settled for some French kissing and snaking our hands under each other’s clothes for a bit and then I ran back upstairs to greet the girls, who were coming home from school.

After supper, as soon as Thom had left, the girls got undressed and put on panties and T-shirts to go downstairs. I wished them luck, and off they went. I got undressed myself after they left, and wrapped a terry cloth robe around me so that I would be readily available when I visited Donna after the lesson.

When they came back upstairs, they seemed transformed. Their skin was all aglow from the aura of their experience, they were animated, discussing the pros and cons of fingers in, and fingers on, and kissing things.

“Did you have a nice time, girls?”

“Oh yes mommy,” said my little one, “Donna is a great teacher and it feels so good to do that stuff.”

“Wow, I didn’t know it could be better with someone else but it got me all excited when Leslie pulled down her panties and seeing Donna naked and sucking on her boobies…” Melinda said without prompting. “You should do it with her too.”

“Well, maybe I will,” I said, “we’ll see, but what’s important now is that you girls learn. Maybe after a few lessons, you could show me a thing or two.”

“Sure mommy, that would be fun,” said Leslie, ever the adventurous one.

“Listen, I made some pop corn and the movie you picked out is in the DVD player. I’m going to run downstairs and thank Donna, and then probably go to bed. Don’t stay up too late. Even though it’s not a school night, you need your rest.”

“Okay mommy, good night,” they said in unison as I scurried downstairs.

Donna opened the door and we pushed our bodies together in a passionate kiss and began to grope each other.

“I want to know every little detail but first I need both of us to be naked so that I can get my hands and mouth on any parts of either one of us without obstruction,” I blurted out.

—- Donna —-

When the girls left I was tingling and excited, wishing I had taught them how to give me an orgasm, so I took off my clothes and lay down on my bed, and was just going to frig myself with one of the fingers that had enjoyed the girls’ young pussies, when the doorbell rang.

I would have been disappointed when the doorbell rang, but I thought I knew who it would be, so I hopped out of bed and only put a light robe on to answer. Sure enough, it was Clare, and the sparkle in her eye told me that she was pleased with her daughters’ first lesson.

After our initial kiss and mutual grope, she opened her robe to reveal her naked body, and I dropped my little robe too as we made our way to my bed, where I had so recently been pleasuring her two young daughters.

As we played with each other’s pussies and breasts, exchanging frequent wet kisses, I told her in detail about how Melinda and Leslie had responded when I began my instruction. Clare was not surprised that Leslie, though only nine years old, had been the first to respond with enthusiasm. Melinda, though twelve, had always been the more reticent of the two girls, and was nearing that teen age when they become more independent and not as trustful of adults as when they were “mere children.”

But, as you will have learned if you read Part 3 of this narrative, they both responded enthusiastically once the “ice was broken,” so to speak.

Needless to say, I had not washed my hands since touching the girls’ sweet crevasses with my fingers, wanting to recapture the memory from the lingering pussy aroma. I let Clare sniff at my fingers and catch the scent of her daughters’ pussies, which she found exciting, her own pussy getting even wetter.

Clare and I then went into a sweet 69 together, with me on top, being the smaller of the two, digging my tongue into her delicious cunt, and feeling the sweet slurping of Melinda’s loving tongue inside the lips of my freely flowing vagina. She had a way of separating both sets of lips with her fingers, then moving her tongue to slide from the bottom of my slit right up to my clitoris, which throbbed with orgasmic delight at the way she strummed it and sucked on it.

All too soon Clare reluctantly removed her mouth from my cunt, and said she had to go back upstairs to kiss the girls goodnight. I suggested that she leave my pussy juice on her mouth so the girls would taste and smell it, thus learning that their dear mother was not ignorant of the sweet lessons they were learning.

We agreed that the next time the girls came for a lesson, I would allow them to explore my pussy and learn how to lick an adult into an orgasm such as we had both just enjoyed. I couldn’t wait to taste their sweet cunnies again and to have their young fingers and mouths exploring my glory hole(s) (well, that last would have to come later).

I told Clare to be sure to allow plenty of sexual innuendo in her conversations with the girls, and to be sure to flash them with as much of her body as she could, so they would begin to desire their mother in the same way their mother desired them.

It would be several days before I could be alone with Melinda and Leslie again, so I was wondering what would go on in the apartment upstairs in the meantime. I was sure Clare would tell me.

—- Clare —-

I wasn’t disappointed a bit about Donna’s report of what had transpired between her and my little girls. It was even more than I had imagined, and it aroused the two of us to a frenzy of licking and sucking. After our initial groping and kissing and holding, we settled in for some 69 and mutually soothed ourselves with each other’s tongues and lips.

After a bit though, I thought I’d better get back up stairs and say goodnight to the girls. Donna had a great idea not to wash my face of Donna’s pussy juice and delicious scent before kissing the girls, to see what would happen.

”Hey, how’s the movie?” I asked as I came back into the apartment.

“Oh, its great mom, thanks for getting it a making popcorn.”

“Sure, I’m going to turn in. Give us a kiss.”

I bent down and put my lips on Melinda’s first. I hadn’t tied my robe back tightly when I put it on downstairs so it opened when I bent over. She didn’t say anything but she did sniff a couple of times while she was kissing me. When I got to Leslie though, she didn’t hesitate.

“Mommy you smell like Donna and you’re not wearing any clothes under the robe. Did she give you a lesson while you were down there?”

“Maybe we got to kissing and I found myself giving her kisses down below.”

“Then, you’re ahead of us mommy. We haven’t done any of that yet. Gee, you’re really pretty mommy without clothes on.”

“Oh, do you think so?” and I opened my robe fully to show them by body. “I expect kissing down below is coming up for you though the next time you get together with her. Good night and don’t stay up too late.” I didn’t bother to close my robe as I said good night to them and I felt both of them staring after me.

*** The rest of the week I did my best to follow Donna’s instructions about sexually teasing the girls. When I was able to get together with her for a catch up, I told her about my week with the girls, starting with the open robe the night I came up after our great loving. We were alone in the house, Thom and the girls were out grocery shopping. As soon as they left, I came downstairs.

When we didn’t know how long we might be alone, or when my family might be coming home, we had gotten into the habit of stripping down to our panties and T’s without bras so that I could get dressed really quickly by just throwing on shorts or sweats, depending upon the weather. This day we were snuggled under a stadium blanket on her sofa with a hand in each others pants, slowly caressing our sweet spots. We wanted to draw out our arousal as long as possible before we satisfied our urges.

I had lots of juicy stories to tell Donna about what I had done with the girls that I think was awakening their interest in me. One of the juiciest happened the afternoon after exposing myself with the robe, I asked them to come to my room so that I could get their opinion about some really sexy lingerie set I had bought. I told them that I had bought it for their father’s benefit, but I had no intention of showing it to him at all. I hadn’t put it on when I asked them in. I had on my business clothes so my undressing would be a big production.

I sat down on the bed and slipped off my heels while I unbuttoned my blouse. The skirt I had selected that day was particularly short and I went out of my way to hike it up as I sat on the bed. Quite a bit of the darker top of my panty hose was showing and I made a point of spreading my legs open facing Melinda, thinking that she would be the toughest case to arouse.

I unbuttoned my skirt and, rising slightly, pushed it over my hips and slowly down my legs and over my hose covered feet. This left me in my bra and panty hose and a tiny little thong that you couldn’t yet really see through the hose. Next I removed the bra, releasing my breasts from their bondage and caressing them, saying that it felt really good to be out of a bra. I snaked my fingers down into the waist of my panty hose and pushed them over my hips. Raising my legs, one at a time, I pulled off my hose.

Finally, standing, I put my clothes away wearing only my thong. Then at the last minute, I pushed the thong down and tossed it into the dirty clothes hamper. The girls and I had been engaging in small talk about school and friends, but with each item I removed, I noticed that they had less and less to say and that their breathing was becoming kind of labored. I took the sexy underwear out of it bag and put it on.

It was red, satiny, and skimpy. The panties were not much more than the thong I had on and the bra consisted of mostly the bottom cups so that lots of cleavage was showing at the top. Just to push the slut look a bit further, I slipped my high heels back on and walked around modeling for them. By this time they were silent and I’m pretty sure that I caught both of them pushing their crotches with their hands when they thought I wasn’t looking.

They both complimented me on the outfit, saying it was really sexy and they thought dad would be ape over it. Then they both hurried off to their room and closed the door. I snuck up to it and could hear rustling and little girl gasps and whinnies so I think they were getting themselves off.

By this time in our conversation, Donna and I WERE getting ourselves off and it was just in the nick of time as they say because we heard the car in the driveway.

Continue on to Chapter 5

By Donna and Thom

—- Clare —-

I was resolved when I went back upstairs to our half of the duplex that I was going to seduce my daughters, or that I would engage Donna to help me seduce my daughters, into a sexual relationship with her and me. I wasn’t sure how that was going to happen just yet, but I knew that was to be the goal I was going to strive for. My sexual encounter with Donna had been terrific, and I learned from it that it was young girls I was interested in, her being very much like one, and that my daughters were the ones I wanted to start with.

The more I thought about it, I knew I was right that I needed to get to my two daughters and teach them about loving and relationships between girls before they had a chance to form opinions regarding relationships with boys. Besides falling in love with Donna, I was also realizing that she would be the perfect person to help me get what I wanted with my daughters.

I had to wait a little bit for a time when I was alone with the girls and my husband Thom wasn’t at home, and wouldn’t be for awhile, in case my kids decided to grill me about what I had in mind. That opportunity came about one Friday evening the following week when Thom was away at a boy’s poker game. The two girls (Melinda is the 12 year old and Leslie the 9 year old) and I had ordered a pizza and were planning to watch a movie. Between the pizza and the movie, I brought up my idea.

“Listen, I’ve been talking to our neighbor Donna about her teaching at the all-girls’ school. She teaches sex education for one thing, and they teach the girls different things than you learn at the public school.”

“Like what kinds of things?” my youngest asked. She’s always been the most curious of the two. I think Melinda could go through life letting it all wash over her. Maybe she would make a good Buddhist, but I’ve been hoping she would get more engaged.

“Well, particularly in the sex-ed part of the class, since it’s all girls anyway, they are able to explore topics about how girls can love each other and make each other feel good using sexual techniques—that girls know what girls like way more than boys or men ever will.”

“Do you mean like lesbo things Mom?” from my youngest. I gathered I was going to just have this conversation with Leslie and whatever happened, we would just be bringing Melinda along for the ride.

“Well, lesbianism is a lifestyle and it’s a bit early for you to be deciding about that. I’m talking about your sexual life—something that you must already have some experience with, and that you will continue to have until you decide about lifetime partners and stuff like that.”

“Oh, this is about jacking off, playing with ourselves,” said Melinda whom I thought had been totally comatose.

“Yes, that’s right. It’s all about sex, not partners or lifestyles.” I was sort of amazed that this was going as well as it was, in the direction I had hoped it would go. I was anxious to see how this next part would be received.

“So, Donna says that she would be willing to spend time with you two, showing you the things that she show’s her classes at school, only she would be able to be more hands-on than they are there. I mean at school she is only able to describe stuff. With you two, she would be able to teach you actual technique, the real thing so that you would know if it were working right.”

“Like when we play with ourselves Mommy?” The littlest one asked, getting back into the conversation and giving me hope that this was going to work out.

“Yes, something like that. You both do play with yourselves then?”

“Sure Mommy, we both do.”

“And what about together? Have you ever done it at the same time?”

“Gees no, Mommy, not at the same time,” said Melinda in a bit of a disgusted voice, leaving me to believe the togetherness I had in mind might be a hard sell, but knowing what I know about the addictiveness of sex, a little bit of pleasure would probably dissipate any objection that might originally arise.

“Okay then, it’s settled. One evening a week, probably a night that Daddy is out, so he doesn’t interfere with what we hope to accomplish, you will visit Donna downstairs and she will spend some time with you teaching you a few things.”

“Sure thing, Mommy,” Melinda said, “can we watch the movie now?”

—- Donna —-

When Clare told me about the conversation she had had with Melinda and Leslie, I was overjoyed. I had been noticing the girls more and more lately, and wishing I could do with them some of the things I imagined doing with the girls at school.

Clare was in the middle of sucking my pussy when she told me the news, and I gushed and came harder than I can ever remember in response to her news as well as her licking. She brought her wet, slippery face up to mine then, and we kissed, sealing the bargain that I would teach her daughters how to enjoy sex between girls and women.

The following Friday I could hardly contain myself as I heard the girls tripping down the stairs and knocking on the door to my apartment. I had needed to consume a couple of gin and tonics to loosen myself up and overcome some of my own inhibitions, so I felt relaxed and happy as I went to the door.

I had purposely dressed in an old set of “Baby Doll” pajamas with a thin top and tight panties that clung to my body and revealed my womanly figure. I was pleased to note that the girls were also lightly dressed, with t-shirts and sweet little girl panties of cotton that also clung to their tight little bottoms and revealed them in all their glory.

I offered the girls a coke, and as they sipped their libations, I sat down on the couch between them. Leslie, the less inhibited of the two, scrunched right up against me, letting me put my arm around her. Melinda was a little more stand-offish, staying closer to her end of the couch.

“So,” I said, “Your mother tells me she wants you to learn more about the fun girls and women can have together with sex. Did I understand her correctly?”

Melinda just sort of nodded her head, shy about acknowledging any interest, but Leslie put her little face right up against my breast, looked up at me and said, “Gosh, Donna, I would love to know more about getting the good feelings I have when I play with myself down here.” With that, she put her hand on her plump little pubic mound and ran her fingers lightly over herself. I could feel a shiver go through her body.

Seeing her sister being so free in my presence, Melinda shifted slightly, and I could see that her bottom was undulating a little even though she didn’t say anything. I urged her to move closer to me, and when she did, I put my other arm around her and lightly stroked her bare arm with my fingers. This seemed to relax her, and the twelve year old leaned in against my breast just as her younger sister had done.

I noticed that Leslie continued stroking her panty-clad pussy with her fingers, and when she saw me staring, she jumped up and said, “Do you want to see my cunny, Donna?”

Before I could respond, Melinda said, “Silly! That’s not your cunny, it is your vagina. Isn’t that right, Donna?”

“Well,” I said, “You are both right, in a manner of speaking. Vagina is the proper term, the scientific term, if you will. We prefer to call it our pussy though, because that sounds more feminine and inviting, sort of like a little kitty with its soft fur, which our pubic hair often feels and looks like. On the other hand, once a woman has grown up and had sex with men or other women, it is sometimes referred to as a cunt, hence the word for a little cunt can be cunny.”

“I don’t have any hair down there, replied Leslie, see?”

And jumping up, she pulled down her panties and revealed her bare, puffy little pubic mound, so delicious looking, almost like a peach.

“My, Leslie,” I sighed, “You do have a beautiful cunny. I bet it feels good when you play with it. Show me how you do it.”

Leslie eagerly took a finger and rubbed it up and down her little slit, revealing tiny lips that spread to accommodate her little finger. I could see that her finger was well lubricated by her young-girl pussy juice.

Not to be outdone, Melinda jumped up and pulled off her panties and showed me that she had a nice crop of pubic hair that thinly covered her vagina. It was so beautiful I almost gasped. “My, Melinda, you do have a lovely pussy. You know, it goes with your name: Melinda means beautiful honey, and your pussy looks sweet enough to eat just like honey on a piece of white bread.”

Leslie looked enviously at her sister, so I thought I should give her a little encouragement too. “Any you, my sweet Leslie—if Melinda is the honey, you are the butter! I would love to spread your butter on my bread and then have your sister put her honey on top of it.”

Both girls giggled at my joke, and I took advantage of the moment to reach out and pull them closer to me, standing right next to each other, their thighs and hips touching, my hands on their little rumps (well Melinda’s wasn’t quite so little anymore!)

I took each girl’s hand and moved it to the other’s pussy and encouraged them to stroke each other, which they did without hesitation, both expert in pussy stroking from their experience with stroking their own pussies.

I was mesmerized by the sight of the girls manipulating each other’s vaginal lips, sliding their fingers up and down the slits and beginning to get into a loving undulation that brought them both closer to me.

My fingers worked around their buttocks and after caressing the roundness of their ass cheeks, I let my fingers trail down the creases and under their bottoms to feel the moisture that their fingers were creating.

Melinda was wetter than Leslie, being the older one, and since her body was more developed I found my way into her vagina without much difficulty, letting my finger take the place of hers, which then moved to the top of her slit to stroke her little clitoris.

It didn’t take long for Melinda to collapse in a heap against me, her head landing on my breast where I left it while I continued to stroke her pussy and to take my hand out of Leslie’s little cunny so I could hug Melinda closer to me.

Leslie seemed disappointed when my finger left her cleft, but then she brightened when I pulled her to me also, and pushed her face against my breast, covered only by thin pajama material. Her little hands flew under the material and pushed it up to reveal my mammaries to both girls, who instinctively began sucking on them as they had their mother’s breast when they were younger.

I had Leslie lie flat on the couch and showed Melinda how to kiss her sister while I bent to lick her sweet little cunny until she shook in what was a young-girl orgasm that would grow as she did.

I decided that this was enough of a lesson for the first time and sent the girls up to their mother.

Continue on to Chapter 4