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Loving Lisa, Chapter 2

  • Posted on December 20, 2016 at 4:52 pm

By JetBoy

A month or so passed. Lisa came to visit regularly — sometimes alone, usually with more of Vanessa’s friends. I found myself masturbating more than I had in years, with Lisa the star of my fantasies more often than not.

I liked it best in the morning, all cozy beneath the sheets, replaying Lisa’s sex show before the mirror in my head. Sometimes if I was feeling especially daring, I’d imagine it was me making her come.

I’d be sitting behind the girl, both of us naked. I was kissing her neck, my fingers toying with her smooth slit while she leaned back against my breasts. She’d gasp and shiver and cry out and go limp in my arms, then I’d kiss her quivering mouth.

It was a fantasy that never failed to make me come like gangbusters. And afterwards, lying quietly on my damp bed, I felt contented… but also troubled. I was a grown woman, damn it, lusting for a girl of eleven — the same age as my own daughter!

It was unnerving, yes. But not enough, not nearly enough to make those feelings go away.

I kept telling myself, Okay, I’ve got this… thing, this lust for a preteen girl. Yeah, it’s kind of sick, but that’s how I feel… so I might as well just ride it out. It’ll just fade away, I’ll get to know her better, and she’ll just be like another one of my daughter’s friends. And I’ll be over my desires, all cured, and no one will ever be the wiser.

Sounds good in theory, anyhow. Problem was, Lisa had other ideas.

*****

Fourth of July. It had always been a big deal in our household. Since we were the ones with the swimming pool, our home had evolved into the place for any and all summertime family get-togethers. (For Christmas and Thanksgiving, the go-to place was my brother Ernie’s suburban palace in Florida.)

I’d had to get the house ready for the inflow of relatives that came down for the occasion, which gave me a lot less time for scary fantasies about a certain underage girl. Lisa herself had been out of town for a couple of weeks with her family event of her own, and her absence seemed to ease the frantic lust I’d been feeling for her. I found myself thinking, Good, I’m getting over this whole crazy obsession with my daughter’s best friend. Soon, I’ll be my old, slightly boring, motherly self again.

One of our family rituals for the Fourth was to put together a huge picnic feast and take it to Bishop Lake, where our town always gathered for a day of fun and relaxation, capped by a spectacular fireworks show that took place after nightfall.

The day beforehand, Vanessa had asked me if Lisa could come along with us. I said “Sure,” confident that I could handle being around her without acting the lust-struck fool. Anyhow, I had my brothers, my sister and all their kids to distract me… and what with the crowds, commotion and non-stop fun and games, I doubted I’d even see much of Lisa.

Our picnic baskets packed to bursting, we all piled into our various minivans and SUVs and set out for the lake. My vivacious sister-in-law Carla rode with us, and she commanded so much of my attention with her hilarious family stories that I didn’t get the chance to do much more than exchange a quick hello with Lisa, who spent the ride doing giggly girl stuff in the back with Nessa.

Soon we arrived at the lake, where everyone spread out their blankets on the shore, then we laid out our feast and tucked in. Like I’d predicted, I was so busy moving around — socializing with family, friends and neighbors, sampling fried chicken, barbecued ribs, potato salad, cole slaw and every kind of cake and pie imaginable — that I’d barely gotten more than a glance at Lisa.

By sunset, things had calmed down somewhat. It had grown cool enough to be a little nippy, so I sat on our blanket with one of Great-Aunt Claudie’s quilts draped over my legs. I was enjoying a moment of calm before the fireworks show, watching the horizon slowly devour the sun while being serenaded by the whooping and romping of nearby kids.

Then, just before the night fully descended, who should appear at my side but a slightly out-of-breath Lisa.

For the first time that day, I took a good, long look at her. She was barefoot, wearing a very cute white and blue striped knit dress that came to about mid-thigh. Her hair was enchantingly tousled, eyes bright.

Oh, my stars… I could feel my body throb from head to toe, my self-control out the window and over the fence in an instant.

“Hi, Ms. Johnson!” she chirped.

“Um, hi, yourself,” I replied, fighting to sound much calmer than I was. “Where’s Vanessa?”

Lisa pointed towards the lake. “She’s down by the water, playin’ freeze tag. I was gonna play, too… but I wanted to be with you instead!” She glanced down at the quilt that was draped over my lower half. “That looks nice. Uh… can I sit under there, too? My legs are gettin’ cold!” She broke into a brisk shivery-dance for a few seconds.

I knew it was a very bad idea… but right then, nothing in the world could have stopped me from responding as I did. “Sure, no problem,” I smiled, lifting the edge of the blanket. “Come on, get under with me.”

And before I knew it, Lisa had positioned herself between my legs and sat. I’d really meant for her to sit next to me, but well, there we were.

Fighting to calm my galloping pulse, I settled the quilt over us so that only our heads could be seen. Lisa leaned back against me, all but purring with contentment. She looked back and up at me, her smile making me light-headed. “I like this,” she said.

She smelled like baked apples. I felt her settle herself against me, felt her bottom wiggling between my thighs. My hands under the quilt hung over my spread legs, just above hers. Suddenly her warm calves were against my palms. She’d raised them, and my hands seemed to naturally rest on her legs. Unable to stop myself, I began to gently stroke them.

Lisa looked up at me again, lips parted slightly. “Mmmmmm, that feels really good.”

“You like that?”

“Mmm-hmm…” I couldn’t resist. My hands began to inch their way higher, ever so slowly sliding up Lisa’s legs.

A loud crack, a flare in the sky above. A spray of color and light. The fireworks had begun. Everyone oohed and ahhed.

I began to stroke her thighs. Both hands, both legs, my soul drinking in the moment. The unimaginable softness of Lisa’s skin. The spicy scent of her. The warmth of her slim body against mine. I was smitten, completely in love.

I barely heard but felt her happy sigh — and then her legs began to slowly move apart for me. Welcoming my touch. Nestled against my sex, Lisa’s bottom seemed to pulse with pleasure at each soft downstroke of my fingers.

I realized that the angle of Lisa’s legs had to be high enough to fully expose her panties, if one was able to peek beneath the blanket we shared. I wondered what color they were — knowing that was a place my dirty imagination had best avoid, going there anyhow.

Lisa enjoyed my feather-light caresses for a couple of minutes while we watched the fireworks, the show now fully underway. The sky seemed ablaze in vivid reds, greens and blues, underscored by the whistling of ascending rockets and the sharp report of their colorful detonations.

Detecting movement, I glanced down to see Lisa, tilting her head back to look at me. Her eyes were alight with mischief.

“Wanna know a secret?” she murmured. I nodded. She leaned up to whisper directly into my ear, and even then softly: “Sometimes I touch my legs the way you’re touchin’ ‘em…”

“You do?” I said softly, my head spinning with desire for this bewitching creature.

“Uh-huh,” she whispered, her warm breath caressing my ear. “but y’know what I really like, the best of all? It’s to do that in the middle of my legs!”

A pause, one in which my heart seemed to have ceased beating. “In between,” she added, giving me a most significant look. As if I’d somehow failed to understand exactly what she meant.

My heart pounded in my ears. “You — you do?”

“Uh-huh… and it feels really, really, really nice!” We stared at one another for a few heartbeats while the fireworks whizzed and popped above us. Then she put her lips to my ear again. “You do that to me, okay?” then back to gaze at me, her eyes warm with hope.

I stared at Lisa with my mouth open, still absently fondling her thighs.

Then I decided, and leaned down to whisper, “You can never, ever tell anyone about this. All right?”

She pulled away again to look up at me, a big smile on her face, and nodded.

“I mean it. Not anyone.”

Her lips brushed my ear again. “I know. Never. Cross my heart an’ hope to die.” She leaned back even further into me. I felt her legs open even wider, if that was possible.

Summoning up my courage, I allowed my hands to slide slowly, lightly up Lisa’s legs. I felt the wondrous softness of her inner thighs, converging toward her sweet center.

Then, before I was even prepared for it to happen, my fingers touched cloth. I had come to a dangerous place: Lisa’s panties.

This was it. I was on the verge of committing an act that had the potential to wreck my life for good. But somehow, my life didn’t seem to matter so much, right then. All that counted was this instant. Me and this heartbreakingly beautiful little girl, nestled together beneath a blanket.

I let my right hand take the lead, the index finger toying with the leg band of Lisa’s underpants, all the while steeling myself to take that first big step, the one that would take this from innocent snuggling to actual sex with a girl of eleven. Lisa took a shaky breath, her bottom shifting restlessly against my crotch.

I casually looked around, making certain that everyone in the vicinity was enthralled by the firework display, then slid my hand the rest of the way between Lisa’s legs, cupping the front of her panties.

And even though I was fully aware of how excited Lisa was, the warmth of her sex startled me. She was hot and moist through the soft cotton, ready for me. I trailed a finger down the crease of her slit.

“Oh, yesss!” Lisa hissed, her eyes briefly rolling upward, a visible shiver racing through her frame..

Alarmed, I leaned in and murmured, “You have got to look like you’re watching the fireworks, honey!”

So she gasped and said, “Oh, wow,” to the sky.

Reassured, I continued to explore my little preteen treasure. My heart pounded like a mad thing as I slipped a hand into her panties, my fingers searching for the delights hidden inside.

A tiny, choked cry escaped her parted lips when I touched her bare pussy for the first time. Lisa was wide open for me, dripping with excitement. And oh, my God, I was so hot, my body glazed in sweat in spite of the night’s coolness. Lisa was hot too, her cunt like a juicy furnace.

She was greedy, eager for more, much more of what I was giving her. That much was obvious when she seized my wrist, gripping it as if she was afraid of me taking my hand away. Fat chance.

I glanced down at her, and a dizzying surge of lust pounded through me when I fell into those deep green eyes and saw the fierce, pure need in them, begging me to make her come. And at that point, I didn’t need much in the way of persuasion.

I began to masturbate her, exploring every inch of Lisa’s vulva. And she was just loving the fireworks! She oohed and aahed and gasped and squealed and cried out with each new burst of color as it exploded in the sky above. If anyone had looked our way — thankfully, no one did — they’d have thought that this particular girl liked fireworks a bit too much.

Unable to resist, I stole another glance at Lisa. And what a vision of young sexuality she was! Her eyes were glazed with pleasure, her mouth slack, lips wet, cheeks flushed. Her gaze shifted to meet mine, and she spoke in a strained whisper, stammering, “M-Ms. Johnson?”

“What, honey?” That was when I eased a finger into Lisa’s tight, slippery vagina, surprised to find myself penetrating her right up to the third knuckle. She had no hymen, apparently she’d already seen to that.

A soft moan escaped Lisa’s lips, her eyes rolling back and drifting shut. Then they flickered open again, and she drew a long, deep breath before whispering, “I love you…”

I wanted so desperately to kiss her right then — to slide my tongue inside her pretty, willing mouth, to taste those soft lips. Of course, I couldn’t do any such thing. Instead, I murmured, “I love you too, Lisa.”

I was teasing her pussy, just the way I liked to when masturbating myself, or fingering a female partner — taking her to the very edge of release, then easing up enough to keep her from coming, then approaching the precipice once more. Lather, rinse, repeat. It was a very effective technique for driving a lover wild.

But it quickly struck me that I might have gotten carried away in the heat of the moment. Lisa was starting to lose control of herself, reacting to even the gentlest touch. Every colorful burst in the sky elicited a moan from her. And having seen Lisa come once before, I quickly calculated that we would need the grand finale to drown out the sounds of her sexual rapture. Anything less might draw the attention of onlookers to the two us, fireworks or no fireworks.

Just as this notion occurred to me, the finale began — so I centered my attention on the firm nubbin of my little lover’s clitoris, manipulating it between two fingers. And as the biggest and loudest of the fireworks went off, so did Lisa.

It was spectacular, with rocket after rocket whistling into the night sky, coming apart with great thunderous bangs and dazzling flashes of light in all the hues of the rainbow. Everyone clapped and cheered and made such a lively ruckus that Lisa’s long awaited orgasm passed unnoticed. A good thing, too… because when she came, it was a grand finale in itself.

When that blessed release first hit, she let out a wail of relief at first, then a long drawn-out cry that started softly, then began to rise in volume and pitch. I felt her body moving frantically against mine, hips thrusting against my busy fingers, her left hand gripping my leg so tightly that it left a bruise I had to hide for days.

It was so thrilling to hear Lisa try to maintain her pretence of watching the fireworks as she came, babbling crazily while I masturbated her. “Ohhh, look, ohhhhh wow, yeah… mmMMMMMMMmm ohhh, it’s… that’s so — OoooOOOOOOHhhh it’s so b-beautiful! OH! Mmmm, oh yes, Ms J-Johnson, I… AAAHhh! Oh no, no, I can’t… I c-c-can’t…!”

And with those final deep, thundering booms from above that we felt as much as heard, Lisa reached the apex of her pleasure — legs quivering, buttocks clenched tightly, eyes squeezed shut and her mouth hanging open. I had her pulsing cunt cupped in my right hand while the left was underneath, supporting her bottom — one finger inside the crack and lightly resting against her rosebud.

Finally, with a huge release of breath, Lisa went limp in my arms. Her cheeks were flushed pink, and a patina of sweat glazed her forehead.

Peering about to make sure no one was paying attention to us, I carefully removed my hand from Lisa’s panties and tugged that short skirt down. Then I tenderly eased her back until she was lying beside we, wrapping her up in the quilt.

When Vanessa came around a few minutes later to look for her friend, I said, “Lisa watched the fireworks with me, sweetheart… then she fell asleep.” And it was the truth. Part of the truth, anyhow.

*****

Before that incredible evening by the lake I’d had a serious crush on Lisa, a secret longing that would never be anything more than that. After that night, my feelings for that amazing girl had become an obsession — a crazy, forbidden lust that had me in a grip of steel. By then, I was bringing myself off at least three times a day, sometimes more.

Those moments of guilt had grown fewer and farther between, too — especially now that I knew Lisa was at least open to the idea of exploring sex with me. Eleven years old or not, I dreamed of having this girl in my bed, outdoors, in my car, a bathtub — anywhere!

I’d honestly believed that I had this little crush of mine under control until that Fourth of July night. I found myself assailed with memories of it in the days that followed — her hungry little twisting body against mine, those passionate moans, the smell, the taste of her! Seconds after I’d brought Lisa to orgasm, I removed my hand from her panties and licked my fingers, savoring the rich, sharp flavor of her cunt.

After that, it was all I could do to restrain myself from inviting Lisa to sleep over that very night. I imagined myself spiriting her out of Vanessa’s room in the middle of the night and into my bed, where I would make love to every inch of her body and to hell with the consequences.

Needless to say, it didn’t play out that way. Instead, Vanessa sat down and snuggled with me while we let Lisa snooze. Soon her parents came looking for her. We chatted for a moment, then I gently awakened the girl and turned her over to them with a pat on the back.

As they wandered away into the night, Lisa turned to give me a sleepy smile that only added fuel to the fire that seethed and snarled beneath my belly.

Packing up our stuff, I got Vanessa, my various family members and myself back to the house as hastily as I could without arousing anyone’s suspicions. Excusing myself for the night on grounds of unexpected sleepiness, I made my way upstairs to the guest bedroom (my brother Jim, his wife and their two-year-old were installed in my room that evening), stripped, brushed my teeth and crawled into bed, where I fingered myself to orgasm at least four times.

*****

My whole world had been turned upside down. Where before I’d mostly been attracted to beautiful women and the occasional male, now I was endlessly distracted by the sexuality of young girls. Wherever I went, whenever I turned on the television or picked up a magazine, my attention was captured and held by the sight of undeveloped female bodies.

My fingers still held the memory of Lisa’s bare slit — its warmth and smoothness, how juicy it grew to the touch. I wondered what it might be like to explore more of her. She barely had breasts to speak of — would it be difficult to suck her nipples, or would I have to content myself with teasing those tiny buds erect with my tongue? If I went down on Lisa, would it be like kissing a mouth? What might it feel like to have those angel-soft thighs against my face as I licked her? How would she react if I parted the cheeks of her flawless buttocks and explored her rosebud with my tongue?

And once I’d had these thoughts about Lisa, it was all too easy for me to transfer them to other young girls. She still held the leading role in my sex fantasies, but no longer held exclusive rights.

In my day-to-day routine, enticing little nymphets regularly crossed my path. The two cuties in school uniforms who passed by me in the mall… a tomboy in flannel shirt and cut-off denim shorts, sailing down the sidewalk on her skateboard… even a bare-legged blonde girl I saw at a neighborhood pizzeria who couldn’t have been more than nine. And when I took Vanessa to see the latest Harry Potter movie, I was blindsided by a wave of helpless lust for Emma Watson that left me with restless hands and damp panties.

I was coming to the realization that I might be a lesbian pedophile. These feelings should have left me appalled, even horrified … but somehow, they didn’t, not exactly.

That said, I experienced a hell of a shock one afternoon when a glance at my own daughter Vanessa had me seeing her in a very different, very unexpected way.

It happened so suddenly. I’d walked upstairs to ask Nessa if she wanted to go shopping with me, not realizing that she’d just come from the pool and was getting changed.

There was my daughter, completely naked. The stereo was on, so she didn’t hear me approach her open door. She’d just taken off her suit and had her back to me, moving to the music as she rummaged through her underwear drawer.

I was somewhat astonished at the first thought to pop into my mind, which was, well, how absolutely scrumptious she was.

To which my common sense primly replied: Oh please… she’s your daughter! You’ve seen her naked a million times!

Well, okay, sure — but not for at least three years or so. And daughter or not, she was stunning, even lovelier than Lisa. Good grief, what a perfect bottom she had!

I knew if she saw me there she’d play the Daughter Intruded Upon, but for the moment I just couldn’t turn away. Shaking that flawless bare butt to Katy Perry, she was, I blush to admit it, getting me hot.

Drawing a deep, steadying breath, I turned away and moved slowly down the hall on autopilot, all thoughts of shopping gone. Instead I went to my room, closed and locked the door, and took off all my clothes.

My body was tingling all over as I stood before the big mirror in front of the bed, the same one I’d watched Lisa masturbate in a few weeks ago. I caressed my breasts, teasing the nipples, loving how they swelled to the touch. They were erect, throbbing, hungry to be loved, and won’t someone suck them for me, pretty please…?

I fell back on the bed, spreading my legs wide apart and slipping a hand down, down to palm my vulva, groping it roughly for a few exquisite seconds before my fingers got to work. No need for a subtle buildup here, just zero in on my eager clit with the right hand, while driving two fingers hard and deep into my dripping cunt with the left. I was wide open, fucking myself like a woman possessed.

I see Vanessa, that yummy bottom of hers — ohhh, no, I can’t, I can’t. Lisa, oh my sweet Lisa, kiss me, little girl, my precious little lover. Let me touch you, caress you, show you how good it is to be loved by a woman. Oh yes, Lisa, you’re coming now — come for me honey, oh YESSS, what a good girl, Oooohhh now I’m coming, my God oh my God…!

That was when the queen mother of all orgasms hit, enveloping me in its crushing embrace. I nearly bit through my lower lip in my struggle not to scream. God only knows what Vanessa would have thought if she’d seen me… or if she knew that my glimpse of her in the nude was what drove me to maul my body like this in the first place.

I lay quietly, the staccato thudding of my heart ringing in my ears. Good grief… what the hell happened just then?

Just when I was resigning myself to this screwy infatuation with underage girls, my own daughter had managed to complicate things even more.

Continue on to Chapter 3

 

My Niece Janelle, Chapter 3

  • Posted on December 18, 2016 at 4:17 pm

By Muffi

What the hell was I going to do?

I had no choice in this. I had promised that I’d call Sara’s mother and ask if she could spend the night here with Janelle and I. I had also promised Janelle that even if Sara couldn’t come, she could still come and spend the night with me.

Rock and a hard place? You’d better believe it.

For the first time I could remember, I didn’t trust myself. That’s a scary feeling, particularly when you don’t trust yourself because of some newly realized feelings about a little girl who spends a great deal of time in your presence.

I couldn’t face this right now. I needed to call Sara’s mother, and then I needed to pick up either both of the girls, or Janelle. I couldn’t, and I wouldn’t, break a promise to Janelle. I would have to put on a brave face, and prepare myself to spend the day and night with at least one, possibly two little girls. If I needed to suppress my feelings, I could do that. I’d face those feelings, try to sort them out and decipher just what the hell they meant tomorrow, when I was alone.

From their terrariums, Ellie and Nellie still seemed to be accusing me with their eyes.

When you can anthropomorphize two snakes to the point where you think they’re not only aware of your thoughts, but taking the time to make their own opinion of you known, you’re suffering from some major guilt.

Oh, yeah. Guilt. I was awash in guilt and shame over these newly discovered feelings.

I took a deep sip of my now cooling coffee, then went to my office. I looked up the Davidson’s phone number again, picked up the phone, and dialed. A gruff male voice answered.

“H’lo?”

“Hello,” I said, as pleasantly as I could. “Could I speak to Colleen, please?”

“Who the hell is this?” came the response.

Okay, then. Nice phone manners. I truly hoped that he wouldn’t piss me off. I wasn’t in the mood to be pissed off. Particularly by a male. Be nice, Meagan, I admonished myself.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I chirped. “My name is Meagan Bristol. My niece, Janelle, is a friend of Sara’s. Sara came to Janelle’s birthday party yesterday. I’m the one who brought Sara home. I just wanted to talk to Sara’s Mom for a…”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” growled the voice, cutting me off in mid-sentence. “I don’t need yer life story, fer Chrissake. A name’ll do. What’d ya say it was?”

“Meagan Bristol,” I said, fighting to control my temper.

“Wait a minute,” he snapped. The phone thunked down on a table or a desk or something. Maybe the floor, for all I knew.

Well, fuck you very much, too, I thought. Asshole

I heard him bellowing distantly. “Colleen!! Get in here! There’s some woman named Bristol, wants you on the phone.”

I grated my teeth for a moment, then tried to calm myself when I heard someone fumbling with the phone. Colleen Davidson’s timid voice came into my ear.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Colleen,” I said. “It’s Meagan Bristol, Janelle’s aunt. I’m sorry to call so early.”

“Oh, that’s all right,” she said. “I’ve been up for a while.”

“Oh, good,” I said. “The reason I’m calling is, on our way to bring Sara home yesterday, I kind of invited both girls to come to my house for a sleepover. Janelle would love it if Sara can come. They’d spend the afternoon and evening with me, we can have a girl’s pizza party, they’ll spend the night, and I can take them both to school tomorrow. Would that be okay? I know it’s kind of short notice, and I apologize. But Janelle would love it if Sara could come.”

“Uhmm… Well, I suppose that’s okay,” she said. “What time would you need her there?”

“Oh, don’t worry about getting her here. I’m picking Janelle up at about ten this morning, and we can head from there right out to your place and pick her up.”

“Oh, well, sure. That will be fine then.” She sounded relieved that I’d pick Sara up.

“Oh, thank you!” I said. “Janelle will be thrilled. She really likes Sara.” I did some quick mental calculations. “Let’s plan on Janelle and I being there to pick Sara up at about ten-thirty? Will that be okay?”

“That’s fine,” she said listlessly.

“Perfect!” I said. “Tell Sara to be sure to bring pajamas or a nightgown, and some clothes for school tomorrow. Her school books, too. We’ll be going straight from my house to school in the morning.”

“Okay. Thank you,” she said.

“Thank you, Colleen,” I said. “Janelle really does like Sara. I think they’re going to be good friends.”

“That would be nice,” she answered wistfully. “Sara doesn’t have too many friends. None, really.”

“Oh, yes she does,” I said. “She has at least one. Janelle.”

She almost laughed, I think. Then it was gone. “Okay, then,” she said. “Sara will be ready at about ten-thirty. We’ll watch for you.”

“That’s great,” I said. “I’ll see you in a little while. ‘Bye, now.”

“Goodbye,” she said.

I hung up, then dialed Kate’s house. Janelle answered. I heard her shouting as she picked up the phone. “It’s Aunt Meagan,” she shrieked out. “I got it!” Then back to me, voice as sweet as cherry coke, “Hi, Aunt Meagan.”

“Hiya, sweetie,” I said. “How’re you this morning?”

“I’m good!” she chirped.

“Well, then,” I said, “I just got off the phone with Sara’s mom, and as soon as I pick you up, we’re going to go and pick Sara up, too. After that, it’s Girl Power for the rest of the day, and a sleepover at my house tonight.”

“Awesome!! What time are you picking me up?”

“I’ll be there at about ten o’clock. Are you all packed already?”

“Yup! I have my pajamas and school clothes ready, and I have my schoolbooks, too. I have three backpacks of stuff!”

I rolled my eyes. Janelle may be mostly tomboy, but when it comes to packing for an outing, she’s all female. She packs enough to go on a one night sleepover to last most people a week. I laughed.

“Okay, then, Sweetie,” I said. “I’m going to get showered and dressed, and then I’ll be on my way. Let your mom and dad know, okay?”

“I will. See ya in a while, Aunt Meagan. ‘Bye!”

I was smiling when I hung up the phone. To my horror, I was also feeling aroused at knowing she’d be with me for the day, and overnight. Not all out horny, but definitely aroused.

“Fuck me,” I muttered.

Scratch that. The last thing I needed to be thinking about right now was being fucked. That just wouldn’t do at all.

I went into the living room, picked up my now ice cold coffee, and glanced at the two terrariums again.

“Stop looking at me like that, will you please?” I muttered to Ellie and Nellie. “I promise, I’ll be good.”

They looked as though they didn’t believe me. Smart snakes. I wasn’t sure if I believed me, either.

My shower was an exercise in futility. What? Oh, no, I got clean. But it was interesting, to say the least. And frightening. I didn’t want to masturbate. Well, okay, let me rephrase that. I was afraid to masturbate, because I didn’t want to know where my thoughts might go if I did. I got ready for my shower quickly, and decided that I’d avoid using my hands on myself. I have this wonderful natural loofah scrubber on a long wooden handle. It’s an absolute necessity for exfoliating. Anyway, I thought that if I used just the loofah, and didn’t use my hands anywhere on my body, I might make it out of the shower without masturbating.

Yeah, yeah. I know it was stupid, but I was grasping at straws. You’ve never grasped at straws before?

Anyway, I got into the shower with the best of intentions. I soaked down the loofah, squirted body wash over it, and began to scrub.

Once again, so much for good intentions.

If you’re a female, and you’ve never had the experience of using a loofah to masturbate in the shower, I’m here to give you my official endorsement. You have to be careful, because they can be kind of rough, but it’s worth the risk.

As soon as the damned thing scraped across my nipples, I knew I’d lost the battle. Okay, so it wasn’t really a battle, it was more of a small skirmish. No? All right then, I’d already raised the white flag before the enemy even came into sight.

I pulled the loofah away from my nipples, and scrubbed down my back, then my arms, then my belly, then my legs and my still rather nicely shaped butt. Unfortunately, I’m not the kind of person who can leave unwashed body parts. The loofah was going to have to go between my legs eventually.

Might as well get it over with, I thought.

I parted my legs, and brought the loofah down across my mons, intending to be quick about this. Yeah, right. The best laid plans, and all that.

I gasped as the rough loofah scraped over the sensitive skin of my pussy. God, that’s good! I thought. Yeppers, it sure was. Too good. That thing wasn’t going to leave my genitals until I’d come. I knew it. You know it. What can I say?

I tried. I mean, I really, really tried. I conjured up images of a past girlfriend whom I’d been particularly in lust with almost constantly. I created a fictional woman in my mind, complete with enormous breasts and a thick dark thatch of pubic hair. For some reason, I thought the breasts and the pubic hair seemed important today.

They may have been important, but they failed utterly. In the back of my mind, I heard Janelle’s voice. “I love you, Aunt Meagan…”

My labia parted as if they had a mind of their own. The loofah scraped over my clit, and I shuddered, moaning loudly. It wasn’t a wordless moan, either.

“Oh, Janelle, baby…”

I had to grab the handle of the shower door to stay on my feet as the orgasm hit. I shuddered hard, feeling a warm gush of fluid run down my legs from my pussy. I clamped my legs together, locking the loofah in place, rocking it slightly as I ground myself into it. A second wave hit me.

“I love you, Aunt Meagan. Do it, please… Do it for me, Aunt Meagan…”

As the waves subsided, I pulled the loofah from between my legs, panting heavily. Meagan Bristol, you are truly one sick, fucked up slut, I thought disgustedly.

Muttering to myself, calling myself some very choice names, I got out of the shower and dried off quickly. I moisturized, brushed out my hair, decided to forgo the makeup, and went to get dressed.

Let’s see. Jeans, or jeans? Uhm… jeans, I think. I pulled on a pair of panties, followed them up with some old and comfy jeans, and pulled a red tee-shirt over my head. I skipped the bra, since it was just me and the two kids today. My decision to go braless had nothing to do with the fact that Janelle would be able to see my nipples poking through the material of the shirt. Honest. It didn’t.

I shoved my feet into a pair of old sneakers, and I was pretty much ready to go. I looked at the clock. It was nine-thirty. I still had a few minutes before I had to leave. I did my daily shutdown and reboot of the computer, checked my email, and then went and filled my huge travel mug with coffee before grabbing the car keys.

As I passed through the living room, Ellie and Nellie were looking at me as if to say, We know what you did. And we know what you were thinking when you did it.

“Come on, you two,” I said. “Knock it off, please? I’m really trying here.”

The look on their faces seemed to call me a liar.

Let me explain something about snakes. They care very little for what’s going on around them, unless they feel threatened or hungry. If you have a snake that was raised in captivity, it’s accustomed to humans. If your snake thinks about you at all, it most likely considers you to be some sort of a strange tree or something. In other words, they really aren’t emotional creatures. They’re nothing like a cat or a dog in that sense.

Today, though, I was seriously considering writing a paper on the topic of the emotional response of snakes to twisted, sick individuals they come into contact with. Ellie and Nellie were still regarding me with looks of stark accusation.

“Okay, here’s the plan,” I said to them. “Janelle and Sara will be here for the rest of the day and overnight. You two can keep an eye on things, and make sure that I don’t get out of line. Deal?”

Don’t even think about it, they seemed to be saying. We’ve got our eyes on you.

Good. That was taken care of. The snakes would be guarding Janelle. I felt better.

Have I mentioned to you that I’m a strange person? No? Well, I am.

I locked up the house, backed the Chevy out of the garage, and headed to my sister’s house to pick up Janelle. Kate met me at the door, grinning.

“I hope you’re ready for this,” she said. “She’s hyperactive this morning.”

I hope I’m ready for it, too, I thought. I didn’t say it, though. I would have had to explain myself. I wasn’t ready for that.

“She’ll be fine,” I said. “I love having her over, you know that.”

“And she loves visiting you,” she replied.

Suddenly, Janelle came bouncing through the door, one backpack slung over her shoulder, lugging two more in her hands. She was wearing cut-off denim shorts that showed off almost all of her legs. I mean, these were short-shorts. Above it, she wore a little midriff pullover top that left her belly exposed. White sneakers and ankle socks completed the outfit.

God help me, I thought.

“Hi, Aunt Meagan!”

“Hi, Sweetie! You need some help with those?”

She grinned, nodding. I took one of the backpacks from her hands.

“Give me a kiss goodbye, Honey,” said Kate. Janelle turned her face up to her mother, who stooped to smack her on the lips. “I’ll pick you up at Aunt Meagan’s after work tomorrow, okay? You have fun. Oh! Did you close your bedroom door? I don’t want to have to see that creature.”

Kate shot me a look. I blinked my innocence.

Janelle rolled her eyes, grabbing my hand. “Yes, Mom, I closed my bedroom door,” she said sarcastically.

I smirked at Kate. She stuck her tongue out at me.

“Bye, Honey. See you tomorrow,” Kate called as Janelle dragged me my Chevy.

“Bye, Mom. Love you!”

“I love you too,” Kate yelled.

I opened the rear hatch so we could stow Janelle’s backpacks. She got into the front seat with me for the trip to Sara’s house. The whole way there, I was acutely aware of her slender little thighs on the seat next to mine.

Stop it, Meagan. Ellie and Nellie will kill you and eat you.

“I hope Sara likes pizza,” Janelle said.

“Who doesn’t like pizza?” I replied.

“Ellie and Nellie?”

I laughed, and Janelle gave me one of her signature smiles. I melted inside. It was going to be a very long day and night.

When we pulled into the Davidson’s driveway, the door opened, and little Sara stepped onto the porch with a backpack on her shoulders, carrying a rather oversized duffel bag. The duffel bag was bigger than her. My god, I thought, she’s as bad as Janelle! Her outfit was a close match for Janelle’s; tight, very short shorts, sneakers, and a tank top. I suddenly found myself looking at her a bit differently.

Jesus fucking-A Christ, Meagan! Knock it off!

Colleen Davidson was standing in the doorway, watching Sara head down the steps. I had a sudden thought, grabbed my purse, got out, and went up on the porch. “Hi, Colleen,” I said. “How are you?”

“Fine, thank you,” she said with a wan smile.

“I’m going to give you my address and phone number,” I said, “just in case something comes up and you need to get in touch, or if you just want to check on Sara.”

Colleen nodded listlessly. I wrote the information down on a slip of paper and handed it to her. Over her shoulder, I could see a man I assumed to be the Davidson patriarch sitting in a recliner in the living room, watching television. There was a half empty bottle of vodka on the table next to him, the cap off, a glass about a third full of clear liquid next to it. He was wearing old jeans and a greyish, badly stained wife-beater tee-shirt. The wife-beater seemed to fit his personality.

Geez! It wasn’t even quite ten-thirty in the morning yet, and he was already into the vodka. How attractive is that?

Janelle had gotten out and was helping Sara carry her things to the Chevy. They stuffed everything in the back with Janelle’s things, and then climbed into the back seat. I saw them buckling their seatbelts. I turned back to Colleen. “Well, then,” I said, “I’ll drop Sara off at school with Janelle in the morning. And don’t worry, she’s in safe hands for the night.” I sincerely hoped that was a truthful statement.

Colleen gave me that ghost of a smile again, and nodded. “That’s fine, then,” she said. “Could you try to make sure she remembers to bring everything with her when she leaves? Sometimes she forgets things.”

I laughed. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure everything is packed back up before they leave in the morning.”

“Thank you again,” she said. “It’s nice to see Sara finally making friends with someone.”

“I’m just the go-between,” I said. “Janelle is the one making friends with her.”

She smiled back, a genuine smile this time, I think. “Sara really likes her, too,” she said.

“Good! Let’s hope they become the best of friends.”

“Have fun with them,” she said. “Tell Sara her father will be here when she gets home from school tomorrow.”

“I will,” I said. “Bye, now.”

“Goodbye.” She moved back a step, and the door closed slowly.

There was no way I was going to remind Sara that her asshole dad was going to be waiting for her. I was certain that she was already more than aware of that fact.

I got into the Chevy and started the engine. The two girls were chattering away in the backseat. Sara was very animated today. But then, Janelle has that effect. You can’t help but be excited when she’s around.

I glanced in the rear view. “Okay, sistahs!” I exclaimed. “What’s the plan for today?”

The two heads came together for a moment, then I heard a loud cry, in unison. “PIZZA!”

I snorted. “That’s it? Pizza? That’s your grand plan for the day?”

Janelle shrugged. “Oh… we’ll figure it out, Aunt Meagan. Do you think it would be okay if Sara can hold Ellie and Nellie for a minute?”

“If she wants to, sure. They haven’t been fed recently, so they’ll be fine with being held.”

Snakes don’t appreciate being handled when they’ve recently been fed. It takes them a while to digest their food, and being held is uncomfortable for them when they’ve just had a snack.

Sara’s mouth formed a little O shape. “You really mean it?” she piped. “You’d let me hold them?”

“Of course, as long as you’re careful. Janelle handles them a lot.”

Her face lit up. “Oh, cool!”

“Wait’ll you see ’em, Sara,” said Janelle. “They’re way bigger than my snake is. Aunt Meagan’s had ’em for a long time, and they’re pretty big. They’re so pretty, too.”

Sara giggled. “My Mom would faint if she ever saw me holdin’ a snake.”

“Sweetie, a lot of people feel that way. Janelle’s Mom is having a hard time with her snake being in the house right now, too.”

“Why are people so scared of them?” she asked.

I looked in the rear view again. “Janelle, you want to explain that to Sara?”

Janelle nodded. “People are scared of ’em cause they don’t understand ’em. Most snakes aren’t poison, but lots of people think they all are. ‘An snakes that you get as pets were never wild snakes, they were born to be pets. If people would just give ’em a chance, they wouldn’t be such scaredy-cats.”

I was smiling in the front seat as I listened to Janelle’s explanation. Pretty well reasoned, especially for a nine-year-old.

“I used to be scared to death of ’em,” she continued. “But Aunt Meagan taught me stuff, and now I really love her two snakes, and mine, too!”

Sara was listening in rapt attention as the “expert” expounded further. “Wild snakes are good to have around, too, ‘cos they eat mice and rats and bugs and stuff. Pet snakes don’t do that, at least not if ya keep ’em in a terrarium. I guess if ya let ’em free in your house they would. But I don’t think my mom would like that very much.”

By now we were pulling into my driveway. I drove into the garage, and the girls flew out of the Chevy, dashed around to the back and began digging out their belongings. I unlocked the door, and we all stomped into my kitchen. Four backpacks and an oversized duffel bag wound up in the middle of the floor. Janelle was dragging Sara through the room by one hand.

“C’mon, Sara, you gotta see Ellie and Nellie!”

I shook my head, smiling, and followed them to the living room.

Ellie and Nellie stared at me. Have you been behaving yourself, Meagan? they seemed to be asking.

Bite me, I thought.

We don’t bite, you know that. But we could choke the life out of you.

Guilt-ridden? Me? Please…

Sara was cooing softly as she took in my two snakes. I’ve had Ellie for almost twelve years, Nellie for about ten. They’re both fully mature snakes, which means that their growth has slowed significantly. They’re both about seven feet long, and weigh about sixty pounds. When Janelle handles them, she’s always sitting on the floor. They’re too heavy for her to pick them up and carry around.

Sara looked up at me as I entered the room. “They’re huge!” she exclaimed.

“Yeah, they’re fully grown,” I said. “Do you like them?”

She nodded vigorously. “They’re awesome!”

“Later on, I’ll take them out and you can handle them,” I said. “If you want to, that is.”

“Oh, yeah!” Sara replied. “That’d be cool!”

“Okay, you two. What are we doing tonight?” I asked. “I mean, Janelle, what do you want to do for sleeping arrangements? Do you and Sara want the guest room? Or do you want to camp out on the floor in here tonight?”

“Aren’t you gonna sleep with us, Aunt Meagan?” she asked. “It’s a sleep-over party, ya know. We should all sleep together.”

I was afraid of that. Damage control? Yeah, right. Good luck.

“Okay,” I said, “then where do you want us to sleep? On the floor in the living room, or where?”

“Can’t we all just sleep in your bed?” She turned to Sara. “She has the biggest you’ve ever seen in your life!”

Great. So much for damage control.

I could feel Ellie and Nellie’s gaze, burning into my back. We’re watching you…

I forced a smile. “Okay then, my room it is Let’s get your things upstairs, and then we can figure out what we’re doing for the rest of the day.”

Continue on to Chapter 4

 

I Was the Daughter of a Porn Star, Chapter 64

  • Posted on December 17, 2016 at 4:01 pm

The Movie

By Cheryl Taggert 

If you need help keeping up with the characters, you may go here.

As we entered the lovely bedroom, Deanna and I dropped our book bags on the floor away from the bed, as instructed by Bob, and plopped down on the bed, where we toed our saddle oxfords off to let them fall to the floor with a series of thumps. We settled in for a long chat to set the proper mood. Bob had said he didn’t want the talk to start out too sexy, and with the mood Deanna and I were in, it was difficult not to get started with the sex.

Arranging ourselves so that we were sitting across from each other on the bed, heels tucked and knees spread to reveal our panties to the camera, I began the conversation.

“Are you going to Becky’s party this weekend? I hear it’s going to be a blast.”

Deanna stretched, pushing her boobs out as she did, and ending by placing one hand on her bare thigh to rub it lightly.

“Yeah,” she said. “I wouldn’t miss it for anything. I wonder what her parents would say if they knew she was having a party while they’re out of town?”

“They’d probably shit a gold brick,” I said, grabbing and opening the nail polish and starting to polish my toenails.

“As much money as they have, it would have to be gold!” Deanna said, laughing.

I joined her in the laughter, but quickly moved on.

“Change of subject! Did you hear the latest about Monique Harris?”

“Depends,” Deanna said. “I’m not sure what I heard was the latest.”

“Have you heard she got caught in bed with Tommy Morton AND Suzi Hirsch?”

“No!”

“Yeah, I heard it from Greg Murray, Tommy’s best friend. He said Monique’s father had a cow when he walked in on them. She’s been grounded for, like, two months. The weird part is they were mostly pissed about Suzi being there and Monique and her getting it on. I mean, Tommy’s the one who could get her pregnant.”

“Monique’s a skank,” Deanna said. “She’ll fuck anything that’s available, be it male, female, dildo, or dog.”

“Dog?” I asked, incredulous.

“Well, I’m not sure about that, but it wouldn’t surprise me.”

“Fuck! I didn’t even know she was bi,” I said.

“Hell, I’ve known Monique is bi for years,” Deanna said.

“You have?” I asked, curiosity in my voice.

“Yeah.”

“And how, exactly, would you come to know something so private as that?”

“Oh, I just knew,” Deanna said, obviously hiding a secret before changing the subject to nail polish.

“Is that cherry red?”

“Yeah, wanna use some?”

“Sure,” she said. “Cherry red’s my fave.”

“Okay, you can use it when I’m finished… BUT you have to tell me how you knew Monique was bi first.”

Deanna chuckled, playing her part to the hilt. She was a natural actress, and I wondered how good Marie would be in a movie like this.

“I don’t have to tell you anything,” she said, still laughing.

“You do if you want to use my cherry red,” I said, dabbing polish on my right pinkie toe.

“No fair,” she said. “It’s too personal.”

I looked at her, eyebrows raised. “Too personal to tell your BFF?”

Deanna blushed. She actually blushed. Like I said, she’s a natural born actress.

“Yeah, even too personal for that,” she said, burying her face in a pillow she’d grabbed from the bed and placed on her raised knees, keeping her panty-covered pussy on display for the camera. See what I mean? Natural.

“Oh. My. God.”

“What?” she said, her voice muffled by the pillow.

“You did it with Monique, didn’t you?”

“No,” she said, but without any conviction, almost sounding like a question. “I don’t want to talk about it. I shouldn’t have said anything about Monique, okay?”

I reached out and touched her arm, stroking it. “Hey, it’s okay if you did. I don’t care. You’re still my best friend, okay?”

She looked up from the pillow. “You’re okay with it?”

“Yeah, sure. Hey, I’ve done things I don’t advertise to the world, too, you know.”

“Like what?” she asked.

I acted flustered, as if I hadn’t meant for the conversation to turn to that topic. “Well, like–Oh! I got all my earrings by swiping them at the mall!”

“I knew that. Remember? I’ve been with you three times to distract the salesgirl.”

“Oh,” I said, obviously trying not to tell her anything too ‘private’ about my character’s fictional life.

“Come on! You know a big secret about me that you never knew before! Now you have to tell me what you were OBVIOUSLY thinking about when you said that about doing stuff you didn’t want the world to know!”

I took this big sigh and said, “Okay, fine. But you have to swear you will never tell a soul.”

“If I tell, then you can tell about me and Monique.”

“Oh, yeah, I guess that’s right.”

“That’s why you have to tell me something naughty about yourself. So I’ll have something on you to keep you from telling about me.”

“Well, okay. I like to… well… I um….”

“Out with it!” Deanna shouted.

“Okay! I always masturbate before I go to sleep at night! Even when I stay the night with another girl or something, even with you!”

“Fuck, I knew that!”

 I acted shocked. “You did? How? How did you know?”

“Are you kidding? You think I could sleep with you over there touching yourself? Your arm all jiggly, and the sound of wet pussy. Oh, God! And your breathing getting all ragged and everything? It nearly drove me wild! I didn’t do or say anything because I didn’t want to embarrass you. I mean, do you know what it’s like to lie there listening to that and not being able to do something about it? My pussy was on fire but I couldn’t even touch it, or you might feel all bad about being caught!”

“Holy shit! You knew? And you just lay there listening to me come?”

“Yes, Princess Cheryl! You got to get off, but I had to lie there for another hour or so, trying to calm down. I couldn’t even do it after you fell asleep because if you woke up, you might get all embarrassed thinking I was doing it because I caught you. Which would be the truth, of course.”

“God, Deanna, I’m sorry. You should have, I don’t know, said something, or done something.”

I held out my arms to hug Deanna, and she moved to hug me back. We sat there on the bed, holding each other for a while. Finally, without moving away from her, I said, “Wait a second. Your pussy was on fire listening to me getting off?”

I felt her nod against my shoulder and neck.

“Did you want to… do things with me like you did with Monique?”

I felt her shrug. “So sue me. I’m not bi, Cheryl. I’m lesbian. I don’t like guys in that way.”

“You mean, you’ve thought about me in that way for a while?”

“Yeah.”

“And all that talk about which guys you liked was just…talk?” Another nod.

We ended the hug and leaned back from each other.

“Are you,” I paused to make it seem I was gathering the words together to speak out loud, “in love with me?”

“I’m surprised you didn’t figure it out by now,” she said. “You never noticed how I look at you sometimes?”

“I guess I did, but I just thought you were just — I don’t know — being a best friend or something.”

“Would a best friend do this?” she asked, and leaned in, kissing me lightly on the lips.

I kissed back. Then she kissed me again, and I kissed back harder.

“Are we going to…” I said, leaving the end hanging in the air between us.

She chuckled at that. “I hope so!” she said, grinning. “Are we?” she asked.

Of course, Deanna and I had worked all this out over the past week. We had known exactly where we wanted the scene to lead. I was struck how much truth there was to the expression that art imitates life because our conversation was modeling exactly what had happened to us several years ago, when I discovered she was in love with me. We had grown up a lot in the meantime, and while we certainly loved each other, it was now more like the love of a sister — well, an incestuous sister — than a future spouse. We each had accepted this and knew we would still be lovers for life. We just didn’t plan on marrying each other, knowing that person was still out there somewhere.

We continued the scene.

“When you say, ‘Are we?’ you do mean, are we going to make love, don’t you?” I asked.

She nodded, holding my gaze with eyes that were misty with desire.

“Yeah, I guess we are… if you want to,” I said.

“Want to?! It’s a dream come true!” she said, and then we were lying on the bed, making out like two horny teenagers, which was exactly what we were.

We continued to kiss for several minutes before she reached for my chest and started to undo the buttons of my school-girl uniform. I did the same to her. Soon we were in only our skirts and panties, our boobs exposed to each other.

We approached this scene as if it were our first time together. I could feel the energy between us. We’d met when were were nine, and now we were eighteen, so we had known each other for half our lives, and in some ways this was as romantic as the first time we had sex after we got together again when I found out she loved me.

She dipped her head to my left breast and began to toy with my nipple using her tongue, lips, and teeth.

And then… Bob stopped everything. “Cut!” he yelled, causing me to startle. I had actually forgotten for a second that there was a roomful of people watching because we were making a movie. I looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. Stop?! Now?!

We started to move, but Bob stopped us. “No, don’t move. Just listen.” We froze in place.

“Okay, girls, so far so good. As soon as you are both naked, I want the two of you to get into a sixty-nine. That’s how I want Kay to find you. At first, she’ll be pissed to the max, but then she’ll realize that seeing the two of you like this is a wonderful opportunity. And remember, Cheryl, no–“

“I know!” I said, not only on edge sexually but pissed he wouldn’t leave the incest warnings alone. “No sexual touching of my mom except to touch her butt. I get it, Bob!”

“Okay, okay. You don’t have to be so touchy,” he said, holding his hands out in a ‘calm down’ gesture.

“Well, you don’t have to keep repeating the warning every time you give me any directions. I’m not nine anymore.”

“So I noticed,” he said, leering openly at my boobs with a silly grin on his face.

I couldn’t help it. His comment made me laugh, and Deanna joined in as well.

They re-positioned us for the camera and Bob called for quiet and said, “Action!”

Deanna continued her assault on my boobs, and I felt my clit responding again. I reached out and started pinching Deanna’s nipples.

She reached down and began to unfasten and unzip my skirt. I lifted my hips, helping her to push it down far enough for me to kick it aside. She began kissing her way down my belly, each touch of her lips seeming to leave a small fire in its wake. Then she was removing my panties.

It occurred to me that this moment would mark the first time America saw my pussy. Anyone who was either old enough to buy or rent the video, or sneaky enough to get a copy of it if they weren’t old enough, would be able to see my bare pussy. I was bare of any hair, as I would be my entire life since I had had the hair removed permanently, and my wet lips were now on full display.

The thought of so many people masturbating to that moment sent shivers of lust through my body.

Then Deanna was toying with those lips, spreading them. I wondered if anyone watching a close-up of my cunt could tell that technically, I was a virgin. No boy or man had ever had his cock inside me, and they never would if I had anything to say about it. I’d had other things up there — fingers, small dildos, hairbrush handles, a capped magic marker, even a lipstick once. But no cock. I decided they probably couldn’t tell, but maybe I could do an interview sometime and tell the world that Cheryl Leanne Taylor was a lifelong virgin as far as men went.

Soon, Deanna was licking my juice-covered lips. I was in heaven. Her talented mouth made my cunt cream. I felt the juices gushing from my vagina. Deanna, pussy connoisseur that she was, swallowed it all as soon as it dripped from deep inside.

I wanted this to move along, so I said to Deanna, “Twirl around so I can get to you, too.”

She did, and I worked at getting my best friend naked for the cameras. Once she was nude, I plunged my face between her thighs and began licking, while my fingers touched her butthole, tickling it and pushing a finger just inside before pulling it out again. We’d both had enemas before makeup, and had made sure we were clean down there because we intended to do more than just touch each other there during either the first part of the scene or the second part with my mom here.

We licked each other’s pussy until we were just about to come when my mom shouted, “What the fuck is going on here?!”

Again, I had been enjoying the sex so much I had forgotten we were making a movie. Apparently, Deanna had too, since she jumped as if she’d been touched by a live wire.

We both scrambled up from our sixty-nine and struggled to cover ourselves with the blankets and sheets of the mussed bed.

The surprise, shock, and fear on our faces were real.

I got control of myself and continued with the film. “Mom? What are you doing home?”

“I had a doctor’s appointment for a checkup today and came home after it. Anyway, I’m not the one who has some explaining to do. What the hell are you two doing having sex with each other? Cheryl, are you a lesbian?”

“So what if I am? You always said we are what we are. If I’m a lesbian, then I’m a lesbian. That’s really none of your business.”

“Ms. Taylor,” Deanna began. Mom turned her shocked expression to her.

“What, Deanna?”

“I’m sorry. You see, we were just, you know, talking about stuff, and I accidentally let Cheryl know I’d done it with another girl we know. Well, one thing led to another, and, well, we decided to do it together. I’ve wanted to do this for over a year now because I am a lesbian, even if Cheryl’s just, you know, trying it out.”

Mom got a curious look on her face. “You know you’ve been a lesbian for over a year?”

Deanna nodded. “Yes.”

“And you’ve wanted to have sex with Cheryl for at least that long?” Mom asked.

“At least.”

Mom looked at me. “So this is the first time you’ve done anything sexual, Cheryl?”

“Well, not exactly,” I said.

“What does that mean?” Mom asked.

“I’ve, um, masturbated.”

Mom seemed to consider that. “That’s no problem. Everyone does. Do you mean you’ve never had a sexual partner before today, though?”

“Yes, Mom. I swear. Deanna’s the first.”

“No boys?” Mom said.

“No. No boys,” I answered.

Mom was getting flushed, indicating she was horny and enjoying this scene a lot.

She sat on the bed and looked at us.

“How long have you thought about girls?” she asked me.

I glanced at Deanna. “For a while now, maybe since middle school.”

Deanna looked at me, pretended surprise that looked very real showing on her face. “Really? You mean we could have been doing this since middle school?”

“Deanna!” my mom said. “This is hardly the time to be having recriminations about not starting a sexual relationship with my daughter earlier.”

“Sorry,” Deanna said.

“I’m just at a loss about what to do,” Mom said.

“Ms. Taylor?” Deanna said.

“What?”

“I have a confession. Cheryl isn’t the only person I’ve wanted to have sex with.”

“Oh?”

“I mean, you’re, like, really pretty and, um, really sexy, you know?”

“Me? You want to have sex with me?” Mom’s voice suggested both incredulity and flattery.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Taylor, but I just now realized that I should tell people if I want to make love with them. If I’d done that with Cheryl, we could have been enjoying each other for much longer.” My mom looked annoyed at the second mention of possibly getting together when we were in middle school. Deanna shrugged and said, “Sorry. But if I’m honest, I have to tell you that if I’d known she wanted to back then, we would have. It’s just that I don’t want to waste the opportunity to tell you how I feel.”

Mom just stared at Deanna as she continued.

Looking my mom in the eyes, Deanna said, “I want to be honest here. You see, I’ve also masturbated a lot thinking of you. I mean, don’t you think I’m at least just a little bit pretty? A little bit sexy?”

“Well,” Mom began, playing her part so well. The confusion over desire and doing what was ‘right’ was obvious on her face. “Yes, I can easily say you are pretty. Very much so, Deanna. And, well, I guess I think you are even sexy. Maybe even more than just a little bit. But that doesn’t mean we should just jump into bed together.”

Deanna let the covers drop, revealing her boobs to my mom as she said, “Ms. Taylor, what did you think when you saw me and Cheryl in a sixty-nine.”

“I was pissed.”

“No, I mean before it registered that your daughter was having sex with her best friend right in front of you. I mean, the split second you saw us. Did it, you know, turn you on first, before you got mad?”

Mom’s expression changed from angry and confused to wondering. You could see the wheels turning inside her head, as if she really had just caught her daughter having sex with another girl for the first time, and reaching a realization that the scene had at first turned her on.

“Well, maybe a little, but–“

“But nothing!” Deanna said. “It turned you on. You enjoyed seeing two teenage girls making love with each other. Only when you thought about your daughter doing that did you get mad.”

“Well, yes, of course. I’m her mother. I’m supposed to get pissed if I catch her in bed with someone and she hasn’t even graduated from high school yet.”

“Well, there are only a few months left before graduation. Does that moment really hold some kind of magic clock that suddenly it’s okay if she follows her passions?” Deanna said. We had purposely included the high school aspect of the scene because we often discussed the whole “reaching a particular birthday makes you an adult” bullshit.

“Okay, I can see your point,” Mom said. “But still…” Mom hesitated as Deanna pulled the covers down, revealing our naked bodies to my mom.

“But still, nothing,” Deanna said. “We’re two horny teenagers. You’re a horny, single mom. Instead of being angry, you should just join us so you and I can get together, too. You won’t regret it, I promise.”

“You really want to make love with me?” Mom asked.

“I’ve wanted to for a long time,” Deanna said.

“But what about Cheryl?” she asked, looking at me for the first time since Deanna had begun talking to her about her feelings.

“What about her? You don’t have to do anything with her, and she doesn’t have to do anything with you. We can just all enjoy this opportunity,” Deanna said.

“I… I don’t know… it’s… well, it’s tempting.”

“Come on, Mom. It’s not incest if we don’t do anything to each other,” I said.

Mom looked at me. “You’re okay with this? It won’t bother you if I join in?”

“Of course not,” I said. “I’m old enough to know you have needs too. Just because you’re my mom doesn’t mean you never get horny.”

Mom sat there beside us on the bed for a moment before Deanna leaned over to her and started unbuttoning her blouse. Then the bra was off, and Mom joined us on the bed.

Deanna pulled her into an embrace, and they kissed. It started innocently, but it quickly moved into very hot.

I shifted my position to remove my mom’s other clothing while she and Deanna made out. I had checked, and it was okay if I helped in taking my mom’s clothes off. I guess that’s because moms and daughters frequently help each other into and out of clothing without having sex. Although why not was still beyond me.

Deanna moved down to be able to lick Mom’s pussy. As she did this, and Mom moved to lie on her back, I managed to fondle my mom’s ass for a second. I was determined to get away with what I could. I could feel Bob’s stare without even looking his way.

After Deanna brought Mom to an orgasm, we got back into our sixty-nine, with me lying on top of Deanna. My ass, therefore, was waving in the wind, so to speak, and I felt Mom’s hand caress it for a couple of seconds. Nothing more, of course, but I was happy Mom had pushed that envelope as well.

After a while, all three of us lay on the bed, softly caressing each other. Mom and I would caress each other’s arms and shoulders, but nothing more than that. Deanna had one hand on each of us. Mom and I were on our sides facing each other with Deanna between.

Deanna looked from Mom to me and back again before delivering the last line of the scene. “Now, all we have to do is change those pesky incest laws to allow women to enjoy it since they can’t get each other pregnant.”

“Cut!” Bob yelled. “What the fuck was that?” he said to Deanna.

“The last line of the scene,” she said.

“We can’t say that?”

“Why not? We’re just exercising our right to free speech.”

“She’s right, Bob,” Mom said. “We can say it, we just can’t legally do it…yet.” She grinned at him.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll talk to the lawyers to make sure there won’t be any problems. If there are, it ends up on the floor.”

He was referring to the editing room floor, of course, but as it turned out, the line stayed in.

The next day we filmed the add-ins, as planned. They took more time than the sex scene because of all the equipment to set up for each one. We’d wait around while the crew set up the cameras and everything, do the short scene, then move the cameras and lights to another place in the house for the next add-in. Finally, though, we were finished.

My first movie was filmed, well a scene really, and Bob would be releasing it on the company’s pay-to-view website in about a week, which was how long it would take for editing to do their work with it, adding credits, inserting other effects, that sort of thing. If it had been a full movie, it could take over a month to finish editing, but this was a scene with a few add-ins, so it was easy.

It was the year 2000, and movies and scenes like ours were popping up all over the internet, which had gained a lot of popularity in the past few years, probably more for the porn than anything else. At one point, our scene was the most-watched scene on the website. That was good for a number of reasons, not the least of them the fact it would earn both Deanna and me more money. We were newcomers, of course, and Mom made like three times what Deanna and I did for the scene, but porn was easy work, not to mention a LOT of fun.

With our scene’s popularity sealed, my debut was a success. Chandra was right. All I had to do was be myself.

Well, except for the desire that kept gnawing at me to start licking my mother’s pussy during the filming.

Continue on to Chapter 65

 

School Memories, Chapter 4

  • Posted on December 16, 2016 at 3:17 pm

By Passing Cloud

I stared at Maria’s lovely face as she played with me. I was gently swaying to this sensual rhythm, floating in pleasure, loving her more and more with each caress, when she leaned forward and whispered the question, “Have you ever been tongued?”

Her meaning didn’t register at first. I was in a half-dream state with the edge of ecstasy creeping towards me.

As her words sank in, a picture formed in my mind. It was a picture that thrilled but horrified me. Did my lovely Maria actually want to lick me… there? My childish awareness of bodily functions and sexuality hadn’t yet made any sort of erotic link. Surely it was ‘dirty’? All this flashed through my immature mind and I, discomfited, shook my head silently.

Smiling, and still gently rubbing, Maria whispered, “Well, we’d better try it then…”

She motioned to the others to come and help her and then, together, they lifted me bodily off the low table, carried me over to a chest of drawers and sat me atop it. I was totally passive and compliant in their hands. It just seemed so natural for me at that moment.

They carefully pushed me backwards so that I was lying down, then, guided by Maria, they lifted my legs high and wide and held me, gently but firmly, in place. Kathy had one leg, Nancy the other. Jude, crouching, stretched my little lips apart. It hurt a little. Maria dragged her chair over and sat facing me. Her head was level with my sex.

Lying on my back, held in position, I stared vacantly upwards. I can’t remember what I looked at. My mind was turned inwards. My awareness was all about what I was feeling. I felt helpless; I felt vulnerable, I felt that I was giving of myself — a kind of loving generosity to my darling Maria, and then to her acolytes. I felt strangely humbled by the attention. I felt Maria’s breath between my legs as she spoke.

“That’s right, Jude. Hold her open.”

I felt the others shift their position as they bent to look at me, exposed like that.

Kathy spoke. Gleefully she said, “I can see everything you’ve got, Sis. Everything!”

Somehow that simple statement really aroused me. I began to feel wanton — insofar as I interpreted the feeling. I tried to expose myself even more. I pushed my legs further apart so Nancy and my sister had to adjust their positions. I lifted my hips, tried to push my cunt out. I wanted to be touched, felt, penetrated, violated, anything! Suddenly trembling with urgency, I hissed, “Do it then. Do it!”

I heard Maria softly sigh, then felt her breath getting warmer and warmer, and then, as she whispered “Ohh… lovely,” I felt her lips brush against my clitoris.

I gasped. I groaned. I felt a sense of shock, of surprise. That briefest of touches: so soft, so gentle, so, so wonderful.

And then, and then — my God.

She started to lick me.

Her hot, wet tongue slipped into my slit and caressed those sensitive membranes with concentrated, deliberate purpose.

It felt utterly, utterly incredible.

Within seconds, it seems, I began to cry out, to moan.

“Aaah! Aaah! Aaah!” On and on.

I remember hearing myself, but I could do nothing about it.

Maria herself moaned and murmured as she did me.

With each long, slow, lascivious lick she whispered her pleasure. “Mmmm… beautiful… ooooh… gorgeous… mmmm…”

I floated away to where everything was pleasure, was ecstasy.

I felt her breath, her lips, and her tongue — especially her tongue. Licking me, probing me, penetrating me.

So dirty, so filthy in my mind. So, so sexy.

Her lips pursed around my clitoris, the tip of her tongue now tickling that desperate little point with tiny rapid movements.

Fast she licked it, then faster and faster.

I felt it coming. That feeling. Like before, it rushed upon me and swept me away. Stronger than the first.

I screamed. I cried out loud. I cried. I screamed her name. I screamed that I loved her. I screamed that I loved it! That feeling.

That strange, powerful, wonderful feeling.

My body arched strongly. I thrashed, I struggled, I writhed desperately as I came. The orgasm surged through me. Somehow the others held me in place. At one point I opened my eyes, wildly staring. I saw Nancy staring back at me. She was flushed, panting, she was gripping my leg. Stretching me wide.

And she was smiling.

I had to close my eyes again as another surge of orgasmic ecstasy shuddered through me, then another and another.

Maria was still licking me. She kept on doing it, but more gently… then gentler still.

Then Jude released her grip on my stretched labia and Maria instantly enveloped them — enveloped my whole vulva with her lips. She tenderly sucked it into her mouth. I heard her sucking and swallowing my juices, mingled with her saliva. She moaned again. “Mmmm.”

She moaned, I moaned.

Slowly the feelings subsided into that beautiful warm glow and Maria (I believe) reluctantly withdrew. The others helped me up and off the chest. They helped me dress. We didn’t say a word until we were about to leave the building.

Maria put her arm around my shoulders. She stroked my hair. I looked up at her. As she smiled down at me, I felt complete adoration. I felt so warm and so grateful, I knew that I would do anything for her. Anything she told me. I wanted her to take me. Make me hers. Make me her pet. Do anything she liked to me. I gazed at her beautiful face with love and longing.

All she said was, “How was it?”

It was enough. I had recovered enough composure to reply, smiling.

“Fantastic. It was fantastic.”

Then, as the others slipped out through the door into the sunlight, and Maria and I paused on the threshold, she leaned closer and whispered conspiratorially into my ear, her lips brushing my hair, “Good. We’ll do it more then. A lot more if you want. And you can do it to me, too.”

*****

As I stepped, blinking, into the bright light of the day I felt joyous.

I skipped to my lessons but didn’t learn a thing. I skipped home but didn’t speak to my sister. My mind was very much elsewhere — in a constant flight of fancy as I dreamed and dreamed of Maria. Fantasies overwhelmed me. I pictured a never-ending variety of scenes, vignettes where Maria and I indulged our desires.

I imagined that she loved me, adored me as much as I adored her. She held me in her arms and kissed me on the mouth, kissed me passionately like an actress on television being kissed by the hero. I pictured her whispering loving words in my ear as she undressed me, and then I would display myself to her — naked, exposed, supplicant in every way. “Maria, Maria, I’m yours. Do what you want to me.”

This prolonged sexual reverie had distracted me for hours, and now I lay awake in my bed idly stroking myself, my tiny fingers tracing delicately along the line of my labia. My sister was in the neighbouring bathroom. I was listening intently to her, counting through the stages of her toilet. Waiting eagerly for her to come into the room. To get into bed.

I heard Kathy on the toilet, heard the trickle of her urine and tried to visualise it. I imagined my face very close to her vagina — as if I was kneeling in front of the toilet bowl, watching her pee. Just inches away.

The thought aroused me. I thought of what Maria had done to me. I imagined doing the same thing to my elder sister. I suddenly realised that I wanted to do that. That I wanted to get my big sister naked, stripped bare. Then get her to open her legs so I could lick her. I wondered if Kathy would smell, even taste of pee. I wanted to find out.

I heard the toilet flush. A few seconds later, the door opened and Kathy came into the room. I watched her close the door and tiptoe across to her bed. In the half-light I saw she was wearing a nightdress. The same one as last night. I hoped that, like last night, that same nightdress would soon be up around her neck with her naked body laid out for my pleasure.

I waited silently as she got into bed. I saw as she lifted the covers then raised and swivelled her legs into place that she wasn’t wearing anything under her nightdress. My heart began to race in anticipation.

“Are you awake, Sis?” she whispered.

“Yes.”

A long pause. “You know today… with Maria…?”

“Yes…?” my heart was pounding now, my hand furtively feeling.

“Did it… did it feel — you know?”

This time I paused. I thought for a few moments about how to express how I felt. How I felt about Maria. But that wasn’t what I wanted from my sister. I loved Maria. I had a different love for Kathy, and just now I wasn’t interested in that kind of love. Just now, I wanted to be dirty. I wanted to smell my sister’s pee. I wanted to touch her where it was ‘naughty’. I wanted to find out how to do it properly with my tongue. I wanted to use my sister. I wanted to be in control.

So I didn’t reply. Instead, I pulled back the covers and padded across to Kathy’s bed and sat. I looked down at her. She was lying passively on her back, the covers were pulled up to her neck, her hands resting on the outside.

We didn’t speak for a moment, then Kathy reached across and started fiddling with the button on my pyjama trousers. “Why don’t you take these off and get in here with me?” she whispered. I could see her grinning in the faint light.

For a moment, I was unsure what to do. It would have been fun to strip off and get in with her. I would have enjoyed letting her have her way with me, but that wasn’t my plan. I had to take the risk. So I good-humouredly slapped her hand away, saying, “No. Don’t do that. I might take them off for you after. But first I want to do this!”

I abruptly pulled the bedclothes down to the bottom of the bed, revealing her fully to my inspection. Her nightdress was rumpled high above her knees, nearly at her groin, her legs slightly parted. To my delight, she didn’t move. She seemed happy to take the passive role. Like last night, I hoped.

She made as if to speak, but I quickly pressed my finger to my pursed lips and bent over so our faces were nearly touching. “Sssssh,” I insisted. “Don’t say anything.”

Then I reached down and started to pull her nightdress up. Obligingly, Kathy raised her hips.

I pulled it right up to her neck and made a point of reaching underneath, to make sure it was all the way up all the way around.

I told her to raise her arms above her head so I could pull the nightdress higher — part way along her arms.

Without a murmur she let me do it and, in so doing, I completely covered her face at the same time.

I sat back to take a long look at her. Seeing her lying there so compliantly thrilled me. Her body, faceless and completely naked, no longer seemed to be that of my sister. It seemed as if this lovely lithe, smooth young body spread before me was there purely for my indulgence. I was really, really aroused.

I placed my hands on the inside of her thighs and, with just the slightest pressure, she spread her legs wide for me.

I looked her up and down and tried to take in all the details. Her slim hips, her ribs, her belly button, her small pink nipples, her mound, her slit…

I leaned across her and switched on the side light so I could see better. The light cast a golden glow across Kathy’s body, leaving her covered face in shadow. Suddenly she appeared so much more anonymous to me… so much more exciting and enticing.

I put my hands on the inside of her thighs again, higher this time, nearly touching her vaginal lips. I spread her legs even wider and bent over that flat belly so I could see her sex clearly. “Lift a bit,” I instructed, and she duly obliged, lifting her little buttocks off the bed, bringing her cunt closer to my face. I bent closer, then closer still until my lips were touching her belly just above her pubic mound. She flinched at the contact; murmured, “Oh,” but didn’t move. I knew she would be able to feel my breath against her skin. I hoped she was as aroused as I was. I hoped she wanted the same thing as me.

I moved my hands to her buttocks and spread them apart so I could look at her anus. I was entranced again by that tight little hole. I moved my hand so I could touch it – lightly – with my fingertip.

Again she murmured, “Oh,” with an intake of breath.

I put my face even closer. Sniffed her. I wanted her to smell of pee. Of the toilet. I wanted this to be dirty, rude, forbidden.

There was just the slightest scent of urine, but it was enough. It strangely satisfied my need and somehow justified my wanton lewdness. It is difficult to explain, but I felt somehow vindicated in my desires – that what I did now would be the right thing to do.

I bent my head even lower and extended my tongue. With an almost overpowering surge of lust, I started to lick my sister’s cunt.

Continue on to Chapter 5

 

Secrets, Chapter 24

  • Posted on December 15, 2016 at 3:06 pm

By Naughty Mommy

Rose certainly was there on Saturday for our first club meeting, along with her daughters, Emily and Melissa. There were nine of us in all, including Valerie and her two girls, Tina and Becky, plus me, my daughter Kerie, and my sister Jae. We met at Valerie’s, as planned, although at her suggestion we’d decided to begin in the afternoon, at 4:00, instead of in the evening. That way, she reasoned, if our discussions were stimulating enough and led to something more — whatever that might be — we would have plenty of time to enjoy ourselves.

It turned out nothing ‘more’ did happen at our first two monthly meetings. It wasn’t until the third occasion that things really got fun. Those initial gatherings were mostly focused on figuring out the mechanics of what we were trying to do, debating who else might be safe for us to invite to join, that sort of thing. We did share some of our secrets with each other, of course, and that definitely was arousing, but overall the first couple of meetings felt more businesslike than sexy.

That all changed in a big way on Saturday, August 13.

 

“Welcome, everyone,” I began, as I stood in front of the group of girls and women, “to the third official meeting of Secrets Club.”

We were gathered in the beautifully appointed living room of Valerie’s restored Victorian home. In addition to those I thought of as our charter members — the nine of us who’d been involved from the start — we had seven new attendees.

I took my time before continuing, looking slowly around at the assembled guests. My eyes settled first on Reagan McCormick. The pretty high school junior was seated on a sofa with her mother, Maureen, next to her on one side and Tina on the other side. Reagan grinned up at me, her face a picture of eager anticipation. I returned her smile, then let my gaze drift down to the girl’s long, shapely legs. She was in a very short skirt, legs tan and bare. So yummy.

Reagan’s mother, who was in her early forties, also had nice legs, though the silk dress she wore was far more conservative, with the hem just below her knees. Her expression was more reserved as well, showing some apprehension. That was understandable, of course, considering the purpose of our get-together… to reveal sexual secrets. It was remarkable that she was there at all.

I nodded to Maureen, repeating, “Welcome.” She responded with a tight, nervous smile.

In an overstuffed chair beside the sofa sat Connie Rayburn, a slightly plump woman of about 35 years old, with a dark tan and sandy blonde hair cut short. Her younger daughter Allison, 9, was on her lap. Seated at their feet with her legs crossed was 12-year-old Brooke, Connie’s other child. All three were dressed casually, in shorts and t-shirts. They appeared relaxed and comfortable. I winked at Connie, and she returned the wink.

Valerie had brought a loveseat from another room into the living room, where she’d arranged the furniture in a rough semicircle. A pair of grown sisters, Candice Stroud and Erica Chaubey, sat together in the embroidered loveseat, holding hands. They were in the same age range, around 30, and although neither woman was especially attractive, they both possessed a palpable sensuousness. Just by looking at them you could see that sex was very important in their lives — and you could also tell, from their body language, that the two were incestuous lovers.

I licked my lips as I gazed at the women, feeling my clit tingle. Candice raised one eyebrow, nodding slightly, giving me a knowing look. It was clear she could sense my arousal, and that she was enjoying it.

Squeezed onto a second sofa were Rose and three little girls: Rose’s daughter Melissa, my daughter Kerie, and Valerie’s daughter Becky. Rose’s other daughter Emily was on the floor in front of the younger kids.

Two additional chairs held Valerie and my sister Jae, with one chair left empty. That’s where I would take a seat when we began to tell our stories. First, though, I had something important to say.

“All right, before we get going, let’s just make sure we all understand a few things. The first rule of Secrets Club is: You do not talk about Secrets Club. The second rule of Secrets Club is: You do not talk about Secrets Club. You can’t tell anybody. It’s a secret!”

That remark brought a few giggles.

I continued, “The third rule is: If at least three adult members of the club agree it would be safe, then you can tell someone about Secrets Club and invite them to join. Okay?”

Gazing around the room, I saw plenty of heads nodding.

“The fourth rule is: Only women and girls are allowed to join. No men and no boys. Never.”

“Good,” said Maureen McCormick. “No men.”

I was surprised to hear her say that. Not that I expected anyone to want a man in the club, but I understood Maureen had been married, apparently happily, for almost twenty years, to a prominent member of the community, a well-respected judge. Perhaps, however, there was more going on within that marriage than I knew.

“Sounds good to me,” said Candice. “Just women and girls. That’s how it should be.”

“Agreed,” said Jae.

Connie Rayburn nodded, “Definitely. I like it.”

Following more nods and murmurs of agreement, I went on, “The fifth and final rule is: Tell all your secrets, especially the dirtiest, naughtiest ones. Let everything out. It’s completely safe here, you’re among friends — and no one will ever repeat anything they hear here. This is Secrets Club!”

I sat down and waited. We’d made the decision early on that except for reciting the rules each time, our meetings would be informal, with no set agenda. Anyone could speak at any time and in any order, whenever they chose.

On this afternoon, Rose went first. She told us a story that most of us already knew, how sometimes at night she would get in bed with her daughter Emily, and how she was teaching the girl to kiss, using tongues and everything. Rose said this had begun about a year earlier, when Emily was 12.

Then she revealed something I hadn’t heard before. She said, “Lately, um, after we started having these Secrets Club meetings, Emily and I decided to do more than just kiss. And, well, now we have Melissa with us too, all three of us. In fact, the girls come into my room now and get in bed with me. We kiss and we, um, we do that thing that Shelly and Kerie told us about, where one of them gets on top of me, rubbing on me, you know, humping while we kiss. We do that until one of us comes, or maybe both of us, and then we change partners. It’s fun, isn’t it, girls?”

Melissa giggled, “Uh-huh, it is. I like it.” She was sitting next to her mother on the sofa, holding her hand.

On the floor in front of them, Emily added, “Yeah, it’s great, so great. And, um, also sometimes when my mom isn’t home, like after school, me and Melissa do it together, you know, kissing and humping. We do that a lot.”

“Oh my,” said Maureen, “that’s… interesting.”

The woman’s face was flushed and she appeared to be breathing hard. She rubbed her hand on her neck, then slid it down to her chest. The lovely dress she wore had a Queen Anne neckline. It was fairly modest, not cut too deep, but as we watched Maureen slipped her fingers inside the dress, stroking the tops of her breasts.

Erica spoke next, her words tumbling out. “I’m so glad we’re doing this. I’m really glad Rose invited us to come, me and Candice. These meetings are a great idea. It’s not easy to keep such a big secret — that my sister and I, that we’re, well, that we have sex with each other — and it’s nice to be able to talk with people about it. Before this I’d only told Rose, and then I guess she told Jae, which is fine. I’m pretty sure my husband doesn’t have any idea, though. He’s at home now with our little boy, Jimmy, who’s two years old.”

Candice chuckled, “Her husband thinks we’re at a Tupperware party.”

“Yeah,” Erica nodded, grinning. “He’s kind of clueless about things sometimes. But anyway, um, Candice and me since, well, since we were teenagers we’ve been doing it, having sex, I mean. So that’s, like, for maybe fifteen years, on and off anyway.”

“Mostly on,” said Candice.

“Right, mostly on,” Erica giggled.

She smiled at her sister. They kissed. The first kiss was quick, but when they kissed a second time, their lips lingered. Erica sighed and closed her eyes. Her tongue came out. The women kissed wetly for a minute or so, with the rest of us quietly observing.

I looked around the room. Everyone except me was staring at the sisters kissing each other. A few were doing more than just watching, however. In the chair next to mine, Valerie had spread her legs and pulled up her loose summer dress. She was caressing herself through her panties. My sister Jae had a hand between her legs as well, but she was wearing jeans and was sort of patting and squeezing her crotch. Maureen had pushed her hand all the way inside the top of her dress and apparently inside her bra, fondling her breast. Her daughter Reagan, in the little miniskirt, had her legs open, both hands rubbing her pussy through her panties. Next to Reagan, Tina was also starting to masturbate. She was wearing short-shorts, which were open, her hand shoved down inside.

It surprised me somewhat how quickly things were developing, but I was very glad to see it. That told me people were comfortable with the situation we’d arranged, relaxed enough to openly display their physical arousal.

Candice and Erica finally ended their long series of kisses. They turned toward the group, red in the face, smiling and wiping their mouths.

I decided to go next. “Um, just so everyone here will know, I want to tell you my secrets. The biggest one is that, well, that I have sex with my daughter Kerie. It started about, um, about three and a half months ago. At first it was just kissing, but then I encouraged her to start humping me, and pretty soon I had an orgasm that way. I came with my little girl humping me. After that, um, it was fingering next, and then oral sex. Now we do everything. My daughter is my lover. Oh, and my sister Jae too. That’s the other secret. All three of us have sex.”

“My god,” said Maureen, “how old is your little girl?”

“She’s 8.”

“Jesus.” Maureen’s hands slid down between her legs, pushing hard, rubbing her crotch through her silk dress.

Valerie cleared her throat. With a hand now inside her panties, she said, “I, uh, I haven’t really had sex with my daughters, not quite, and I’m not sure I ever will. But I have done secret things with them. I’ve masturbated in front of them, letting them watch me, and I’ve watched both of them masturbate too. I’ve also shot videos of them, uh, kissing and touching each other. That makes me so hot, seeing them together that way.”

“It makes me hot too, Mom,” said Tina. “I love doing that for you, turning you on.”

Reagan spoke up. “That’s sorta like what me and my mom do. Not exactly, but kind of. Um, see, a couple years ago, I started spying on my mom. She and my dad sleep in separate bedrooms, and, well, my dad is out a lot at night. He has all these meetings and stuff. And anyway, sometimes at night I would hear my mom in her bedroom, you know, like moaning and everything… so one time I went and stood outside her door. That first time I just listened, but then the next night I opened the door a crack so I could peek inside. There was a light on, and I could see everything. I watched my mom play with herself. She was naked on the bed, rubbing her hands all over her body. I watched her until she came. It was so hot, the hottest thing I’d ever seen in my whole life. I went back to my room and got in bed and rubbed my pussy, and oh my god, I came so hard. I was so totally turned on by that.”

The girl paused in her narrative, glancing around the room. She had both hands inside her panties, playing with herself. She smiled at us, then went on, “After that, the next time I went to spy on my mom, her door was already open partway. I didn’t even have to open it. It was like she wanted me to watch her.”

“I did,” said Maureen.

“I know,” Reagan grinned. “I know that now, but I didn’t know it then. So, um, after that, every time my dad was out at night, I’d get up and go watch my mom masturbate. Her door was always left open. But then, after a couple of weeks, I decided to try something else. One night instead of going to watch her, I stayed inside my own room. I laid on my bed, naked, with the door open, and played with myself. I was kind of being really loud and everything, on purpose. After a while, I heard some noise at the door. It was my mom. She was watching me. I kept my eyes closed, mostly, pretending I didn’t know she was there. But I knew that she knew, and she knew that I knew. We didn’t say anything, though. And then we just kept on doing that, sort of spying on each other, masturbating for each other.”

“Mmm, nice,” breathed Valerie. She drew her hand from her panties, bringing it to her mouth, fingers glistening with juices. She sucked the fingers, tasting herself, and said, “Tell us more.”

“Okay, um, we did that for, I don’t know, for maybe a year and a half, usually a couple of times a week, but we never said anything to each other at all. It wasn’t until Tina told me about Secrets Club, like, two or three weeks ago. That’s when I finally said something to my mom. I told her I really wanted to come here to the club, and I wanted her to come with me.”

“I didn’t want to at first,” said Maureen. “I refused. I was terrified. But Reagan kept insisting, and then Tina talked with me about it too, as did Valerie. Finally I decided to take a chance, to give Secrets Club a try. And I’m glad I did.”

By now Maureen had her dress pulled up almost to the waist. Her long legs were parted and she was rubbing herself through her satin panties. From where I was seated, across from her, I could easily see a dark wet spot beneath her fingers. It really turned me on, and I was almost ready to say something about it when Rose spoke.

“Did you, I mean, um, you said something earlier, Maureen. You said you did want her to see you, your daughter, is that what you meant?”

Rose had a hand between her legs, playing with herself over her clothing. She was wearing very tight shorts that day, so tight you could see the bulge of her labia. Her fingers rubbed and squeezed as she gazed wide-eyed at the other woman, waiting for an answer.

“Yeah,” Maureen nodded. “I, well, it’s sort of embarrassing to admit it, but that’s why we’re here, right? It’s true, I really was hoping that Reagan would come and find me. I wanted her to watch me masturbate. That, uh, that whole idea just excites me so much… and… and I’ll tell you something else. This is something no one knows. I’ve never told anyone, not even my daughter, until now. But, see, when I was a girl, I did that with my own mother. I watched her masturbate.”

She licked her lips, looking slowly around the room before continuing. “I’m not sure if she knew I was watching her or not. We never said anything about it. This went on for years, though, starting when I was even younger than Reagan is, only 11 or 12. My parents were divorced and it was just the two of us. She didn’t do it that often, not as often as I do, but maybe once a week or so, I could hear her in her room at night. At first I just listened, but then I got up and went to see.”

Maureen slipped a hand inside her panties, touching her pussy. She shuddered and moaned, then went on. “Her bedroom door was always open, and I could look inside. It was mostly dark, but I could see that she was naked. I could see her playing with her tits and rubbing her hands between her legs.”

“Goddamn, that’s hot,” said Rose. She suddenly stood and hurriedly unzipped her shorts, pushing them down below her knees along with her bikini panties. Then she sat down again on the sofa between Kerie and Melissa, giggling as she resumed masturbating.

“I loved that so much, watching my mom at night,” said Maureen. “I loved the sounds and the smells. I never masturbated while I was at her door, but after I went back to my room I did. I watched her so many times, so many times… I guess she must have known I was there. But anyway, when I had my own daughter and she got, you know, old enough, I couldn’t stop thinking about that, how exciting it was for me when I was a girl. And I wanted Reagan to experience the same thing.”

“So it goes down through the generations,” said Jae.

Maureen smiled. “Uh-huh, it does, it seems to.”

It was quiet in the room for a minute or so after that, nothing but heavy breathing and the squishy, slippery sound of fingers in wet pussies.

Then, looking at me, Brooke asked, “Can I, um, can I tell our secret next?”

“Of course you can,” I nodded. “Anyone can speak whenever they want to.”

Connie patted her daughter’s shoulder. “Go ahead, honey.”

The girl proceeded to tell us what she and her little sister Allison did: that they enjoyed putting on webcam shows, getting naked and exposing themselves to random viewers, whoever chose to watch. The girls would open their pussies for the camera, touching themselves and touching one another too. Both had masturbated to orgasm for the benefit of their online audience.

In response to a question from Erica, the sisters said they hadn’t licked each other yet, just fingering and kissing. But the most exciting thing about the story is that their mother would always watch the girls perform. Connie never went on camera, but she took off her clothes and observed from the side, masturbating as her 9-year-old and 12-year-old daughters did their alluring shows.

“I love that, I love that, I love that,” Valerie blurted, fingers moving very fast inside her panties, “I – I – uhnh – UNH!!”

She grunted loudly, almost doubling over from the waist as she reached climax. This was the first orgasm in the history of Secrets Club — but it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

Everyone watched silently, waiting for Valerie to finish. Many were also rubbing themselves, but no one else seemed ready to come just yet.

After perhaps half a minute of grunting and groaning and shuddering, Valerie let out a long, husky sigh, then sat up straight again in her chair. Still breathing heavily, she pushed her hair back from her face, wiping sweat from her brow. I could see gooey moisture gleaming on her fingers.

I hadn’t yet started to masturbate, thinking, I suppose, that as nominal leader of our meetings I should show more restraint. Now, however, I didn’t want to wait any longer. I opened my slacks and pushed a hand down inside my panties. My pussy was slippery with wetness.

Valerie grinned at me, nodding, but didn’t say anything.

Connie spoke up. “Maybe you girls should show them. Not just tell them about the sex shows you put on, but let everyone see the things you do with each other.”

Sitting on her lap, Allison turned to look up at her mother. “Really?”

“Sure,” Connie replied, before checking with me. “That is, of course, if it doesn’t break any rules of the club.”

“No, not at all,” I said, as I massaged my swollen clit. “Anything they want to do, or anything anyone wants to do, it’s perfectly fine.”

 

And that’s how our club meetings evolved from simply relating stories and sharing secrets to becoming an actual show and tell — first the tell, and then the show, or sometimes both at once.

On that afternoon, the demonstrations began with Brooke and Allison taking off their clothes for us, then fingering and kissing each other while we watched — and not only watched, of course, but masturbated. By then, almost everyone was playing with themselves, even the littlest girls.

I lost track of how many reached orgasm during the impromptu sex show put on by the young sisters, but it was a lot. Their mother, Connie, came, and I came, as did Valerie again. I’m almost certain Jae came too, and I think both Maureen and Rose did as well. It’s likely there were several others, but my memory is kind of fuzzy. Let’s just say there was plenty of gasping and groaning and squealing, the room filling with the pungent aroma of pussy, of feminine climax.

After that, we took a short break. Valerie and her daughters served drinks to anyone who wanted them, and snacks were offered. We relaxed and chatted for a few minutes until Maureen brought up the subject of the taboo video recordings that Valerie had made of her daughters. After a few minutes’ discussion, it was decided we should watch some of those.

Because there was no TV on the lower level, we all trooped up to the parlor on the second floor. With sixteen of us, it was a bit of a crowd, but no one seemed to mind being crammed in together, women and girls seated two deep on the sofa and in the pair of chairs in the room, the rest on the carpeted floor.

Valerie put in a disk and started it up. The big screen on the wall came alive with an image of Tina and her little sister Becky lying nude on Valerie’s bed, facing one another. They smiled at the lens, then began to kiss and caress. As the camera moved in, we saw the girls using their tongues, kissing wetly. Soon the view panned down to show us their hands working between each other’s legs. Gradually it eased forward, closer and closer, until we could see their juices gleaming on slippery fingers.

Around this time, I heard someone start to come. I’m not really sure who it was, since it took place behind me. I was sitting on the floor in front of the sofa, holding Kerie on my lap. My legs were apart and she was sliding her little bum up and down, rubbing against my groin through my slacks. Needless to say, this was fairly distracting. Between that and the super sexy video we were enjoying, I wasn’t paying too much attention to who else around us was masturbating and who came when. It may even have been one of the women or girls fingering another and bringing her to orgasm. That’s certainly possible.

At any rate, I was getting very turned on. It was so hot to watch Tina and her sister playing with each other’s wet pussies as they kissed — especially with all the other moms and daughters and sisters in the room with us watching at the same time. That made it extra exciting.

“Don’t stop, baby, don’t stop,” I whispered in Kerie’s ear. I also put a hand between my daughter’s legs. She was wearing a very short flippy skirt and cotton undies. I pressed my fingers in, rubbing her mound through the soft fabric of her panties.

“Mommy, Mommy, Mommy,” sighed Kerie as she moved faster up and down, stimulating my clit.

All around me, I heard the sounds of climaxes, one after another — ecstatic cries, breathless gasps, guttural moans. Closing my eyes, I listened to the squishy plopping of fingers fucking cunts, and inhaled the intoxicating smell of juicy pussies.

“Kerie, Kerie! Oh god yes!!”

I came suddenly, unexpectedly, with my daughter humping me. It was pretty amazing that she could bring me that way, simply rubbing her bottom against my slacks, but she did.

When I finally began to recover from the delicious orgasm, I realized that the image on the screen had changed. We were watching a different video now… and I was in it!

This was the one Valerie had made of me and Tina making love. Kerie hadn’t viewed it before, and was obviously riveted by what she was seeing. Wanting to give my 8-year-old the same kind of pleasure she had given me, I slipped my fingers inside her undies, loving the feel of her smooth, soft mound.

She leaned back, head resting between my breasts, sighing contentedly. Sliding my other hand up under her shirt, I played with my daughter’s nipples and kissed the top of her head as I fondled her hairless pussy. Kerie stared at the big screen, watching a pornographic video of her mother having sex with a teenage girl, and within only a minute or two, she reached climax.

 

That was as far as things went during our third Secrets Club meeting. A lot of masturbation and plenty of orgasms, along with some kissing — and I’m pretty sure I wasn’t the only one who fingered another girl’s or woman’s pussy — but there was no oral sex or tribbing or anything like that. Our group wasn’t quite ready yet for an all-out lesbian orgy.

However, at the next meeting…

Continue on to Chapter 25

 

My Niece Janelle, Chapter 2

  • Posted on December 14, 2016 at 3:47 pm

By Muffi

I woke the next morning feeling deliciously lethargic and lazy. I knew that I had to motivate myself to get moving and go help with Janelle’s party, but I stayed under the warm covers for as long as I could. I wondered vaguely why my purple vibrator was lying next to me on the bed, and then remembered that I had drifted off to sleep quickly the night before, following an almost unbelievably intense orgasm. I hadn’t had the energy to even put the toy away.

For the record, before I got myself out of bed, I did take a little time to make an attempt at repeating the pleasure of the night before. I won’t bother to describe it, I’m sure you aren’t interested in a repeat of that so soon on the heels of my last description. I will only say that while it was quite pleasurable, it wasn’t nearly as satisfying as the previous night.

Oh, well. As the Rolling Stones said, you can’t always get what you want. I was still feeling something of the afterglow from last night, anyway, so I wasn’t even close to being disappointed. I mean, there really is no such thing as a bad orgasm, right?

Smiling and humming quietly to myself, I padded into the bathroom for a quick shower, brushed my hair and teeth quickly, threw on a hint of makeup, and then went back to my bedroom to get dressed.

I’d decided on a casual look for the day. I knew that most of the little girls who would be showing up would be wearing pretty dresses, but I also knew about playing in the sprinkler. One way or another, the party would end with everyone dressed casually. Besides, I figured that with something like fifteen prepubescent girls in one large gathering, pandemonium reigns supreme — so jeans would be the safest choice.

I pulled on a sheer burgundy thong. Well, you never know. I could meet a bored mom who was looking for a stroll on the wild side, couldn’t I? Okay, admittedly, the possibility was rather remote. The bra that made up the other half of the set was also sheer. It did nothing to hide my prominent nipples, but at least I was sort of following the rules of modesty. It was a bra, right? A barely there bra, true; but a bra nonetheless.

I pulled a thin tank top over my head, black, with rather narrow shoulder straps and a low, scoop cut neckline that was trimmed in black lace. It displayed my cleavage rather nicely, I thought. Finally, I sat on the bed and pulled on my favorite, worn out but immensely comfortable black boots with thick clunky heels. I stood up and surveyed the result in my mirrored walls, satisfied that I looked not only comfy and casual, but marginally respectable as well.

That’s me: Your friendly, admittedly nymphomaniacal, neighborhood lesbian. The epitome of respectable small town womanhood. Yeah, right…

Lock up your womenfolk, fellas. Meagan is flying solo, and her horniness knows no bounds!

Yes, I do think about sex almost constantly. So shoot me.

Janelle’s birthday cake was on a very large wooden cutting board, sitting on my kitchen table. After I had started my coffee brewing, I eyed the dimensions of the cake, then went into the garage to dig out a couple of cardboard boxes. After some skilled surgical work that involved a box cutter and some duct tape, I had an open box that was large enough to place the cake in. It had no top, but I could cover it with aluminum foil. I drive a mid-sized Chevy crossover, so I had plenty of room in the back to set the cake down for the ride.

By the time I had opened the rear hatch of the Chevy, lugged the cake out there and loaded it up, my coffee was ready. I poured a huge mug and snapped the lid on. My travel “mug” holds just over a half pot of coffee. Caffeine addict? Me?

I took a quick sip of rich, hot black coffee, set the mug down, and went to the hall closet to dig out the birthday presents I’d bought for Janelle. I grinned. My sister was going to have a hissy fit. Oh, well. This was about Janelle, not about her mother. Truthfully, I was going to enjoy Kate’s reaction every bit as much as I would Janelle’s.

The largest of the two brightly wrapped packages had to go in back with the cake. That actually worked. I wedged it between the front seats and the edge of the cake box, which help to steady the cake in place. The smaller package went on the front passenger seat. There was a third package, as well, but I needed to wait to load that until I was just ready to leave. It would go in the front seat as well.

I went back inside, picked up my coffee, and went into my office to check my email. My graphics work is almost exclusively computer generated, created for various web applications. I do some work for print media also, but the majority of my work is for cyberspace. Email is my main form of communication with clients and prospective clients. I check it faithfully several times every day.

Nothing pressing. That was a good thing; I wouldn’t spend the day with half of my mind trying to solve any work related issues. I turned off the computer monitor, leaving the machine running. I almost never shut down my computer for any length of time. Just a daily, five minute shutdown to clear the RAM and cache space.

I grabbed my denim jacket and pulled it on, made sure everything was turned off except the computer, checked the doors to be sure they were locked, and grabbed Janelle’s third present. I went into the garage, set the package on the front passenger seat, and started up the vehicle. I punched the garage door opener, and when it was fully raised, I backed out into the driveway. I hit the button to close the garage back up, and headed off to my sister’s house, about a mile and a half away. I turned on the CD player and sang along with Sarah McLachlan, only slightly off key.

It was still several hours until the party. I pulled into Kate and Michael’s driveway just a few minutes before ten o’clock. It was a beautiful, early autumn day, bright and sunny, with the promise of warm temperatures by noon. I parked the Chevy in full sunlight, got out and opened the rear hatch, and unloaded the cake. It was heavy enough that I had to use both hands, so I’d have to come back to close the hatch.

I used my elbow to ring the doorbell, because I couldn’t open the door. My hands were full of birthday cake. My brother-in-law opened the door, grinning at me.

“Hey, Meagan,” he said, “come on in. You need some help with that?”

“Just with the door, thanks,” I replied.

“You got here just in time,” he said, laughing. “Janelle is about to go into meltdown. Kate’s been pretending that she forgot to bake the cake, and telling Janelle not to worry, she’ll get to it soon.”

I shook my head, unable to hide my smile. “My sister, the eternal bitch,” I said.

“You said that, not me,” he grinned.

“I can say it,” I said conspiratorially. “You, she’d probably murder for that.”

“She would indeed,” Michael said. “Slowly, and very painfully.”

His face as he spoke gave lie to his words. Michael loves my sister with everything he’s got. The only other person he loves even near as much as Kate is Janelle.

“You can think it, Michael. I won’t tell, I promise.”

He laughed, showing gleaming white teeth. “Come on,” he said. “That thing must be getting heavy.”

As we walked into the kitchen, Janelle was wailing at her mother. “Mom, come on! You hafta get my cake made!”

“Look who’s here, guys,” said Michael loudly.

Kate and Janelle turned as one and saw me. When Janelle saw the box in my hands, she spun back to her mother, glaring at her with an accusing look. She didn’t say a word. She didn’t have to. She just glared, and that look said it all. Then she spun back to me, all smiles again. “You made my cake, Aunt Meagan? Is it chocolate? Can I see it, please, please, please, please, please?” The words spilled out in a rush.

“Yes, I made your cake, Sweetie. Of course it’s chocolate; do you think I’d make any other kind for you? And no, you may not see it. It’s a surprise. You’ll have to wait until the party.”

Janelle gave me a mock pout that lasted all of about two seconds. Then she was all smiles and giggles again. “Wait’ll you see the outfit Mom got for me to wear today, Aunt Meagan. It’s so awesome!”

“We’re waiting until about noon to put it on her,” said Kate. “We want to minimize the amount of time that she’ll have to get it dirty.”

Janelle blushed. She has a tendency to get dirty pretty quickly sometimes, and she knows it.

“I can’t wait to see it, Sweetie. I’ll be here all day. There’s no rush.”

“You wanna see it now? I can show it to you.”

I shook my head. “Nope. I want to wait to see it when you’re in it. It won’t be half as pretty on a hanger as it will when you’re wearing it.”

She blushed prettily again. I was struck by her innocent beauty. My sister and her hubby make awfully pretty kids, I thought.

The rest of the morning was spent bustling around the house and the deck, decorating and preparing everything for the arrival of a pack of half-wild girl children. There would be a few of the Moms there, as well, which would provide Kate, Michael and myself with some much needed technical support. We were going need all the help we could get.

At about noon, we figured that we were about as ready as we were ever going to be. There were balloons floating in the air everywhere; Michael had rented a tank of helium and bought balloons of every shape, size and color. They bounced lazily against the ceiling inside the house, and they were attached by strings from railings, table legs, anything that you could tie a string to. My major contribution to the party had been a huge banner that I’d designed and had made. It was suspended from the eaves of the house above the deck, a bright pink banner with white lettering, each letter outlined in a different primary color.

HAPPY NINTH BIRTHDAY, JANELLE!!

My sister had rolled her eyes at me when she saw the banner. Across the bottom, I had put stylized images of Ellie and Nellie, my two boa constrictors, smiling brightly at whoever was looking at the banner. Janelle likes my snakes. Not every little girl prefers puppies or kittens, you know.

Janelle had gone upstairs to change into her new outfit. The three of us were standing in the kitchen, taking a break and trying to psyche ourselves up for the impending chaos. Actually, I really was looking forward to this. It was going to be fun.

I turned at the sounds of clunky footsteps coming down the hallway towards the kitchen. Janelle pranced proudly into the kitchen, her eyes locked to mine, grinning from ear to ear. I looked at her, then I glanced at her mother, who was also grinning at me. She was dressed up, alright, but not in what could remotely be thought of as a frilly little girl outfit.

She was wearing an almost perfect duplicate of an outfit that I favor, and that Janelle had more than once labeled as “awesome.” I gulped. She looked adorable! Around her neck was a black velvet choker, with a silver heart suspended from the front. She wore a white, long-sleeved blouse that was heavily ruffled down the front and at the cuffs. Over the blouse, she wore an open, black leather vest with silver buttons. Her pants were also black leather, with an exposed button-fly, again with silver buttons. On her feet, she wore a pair of boots that were identical to the ones I had on, only smaller.

She stood in front of me grinning for a moment, then slowly spun in a circle. When she was facing me again, she looked up at me, still grinning. “Wha’d’ya think?” she asked.

“I think,” I replied, “That except for the fact that you’re much prettier than I am, you look like a miniature Aunt Meagan!”

Janelle beamed at me, then rushed forward and wrapped her arms around my waist, hugging me tightly. I returned the hug, happily.

Kate was still grinning. “She’s been after me for months to let her get an outfit that matches yours,” she said. “She finally wore me down.”

“She’s good at that,” Michael added.

It was a pretty expensive outfit to get for a little girl who would most likely outgrow it within a year. But then, we all tend to indulge Janelle. Kate can’t have any more kids; she’d had to have a hysterectomy following Janelle’s birth. They’d discovered two malignant tumors. She was their only child, and all the more precious to them because there would be no others.

Indulging Janelle never seemed to spoil her, though. She didn’t develop that attitude of just expecting to get whatever she wants. She was truly appreciative of anything that she was given.

When she stepped back away from me, her mother noticed that Janelle had forgotten to brush her hair. It was tousled wildly. “Janelle! Are you going to greet people with your hair looking like that?”

Janelle reached one hand up to her head to touch her hair. Her mouth formed a surprised “O” shape, and she spun around and ran back upstairs to take care of it.

“She really adores you, you know,” said Kate quietly. “Everything is, ‘Aunt Meagan this, Aunt Meagan that.’ She wanted that outfit so badly, so she could look like you.”

It was my turn to blush. “Yeah, well, don’t tell her, but the feeling is mutual. I love her like she’s my own.”

Michael grinned. “No one has to tell her. She knows she has you wrapped around her little finger.”

I glared at him. “You should talk,” I said.

“Yeah, I know,” he said, ducking his head with a sheepish grin. “She’s pretty special, isn’t she?”

“That she is, dear brother-in-law,” I replied. “That she is. You should be proud of her.”

“Trust me,” he said quietly. “I am.”

“Okay, you guys,” said Kate. “This concludes our regular meeting of the Janelle McCarthy Fan Club. We need to focus. It’s going to get insane around here very soon.”

That statement was followed immediately by a hesitant knock at the front door. I glanced at Kate, then headed down the hall to answer the knock. I heard Michael mutter behind me. “Let the games begin.”

I opened the door to find a rather plain, mousy, tired looking woman who was probably in the neighborhood of thirty years old, but looked much older than that. Next to her was a slender little girl with coal black, shoulder length hair and very pale white skin. I smiled at both of them brightly.

“Uhm, is this the right place? For the birthday party, I mean?” the woman asked.

“You got it,” I said, grinning. I looked down at the little girl again. “You must be Sara.” The little girl nodded shyly and smiled.

I looked back at her mother. The woman looked defeated. By what, I couldn’t tell, but there was defeat painted all over her face, and in her posture. I wondered vaguely what had happened to make her this way. “I’m Colleen Davidson,” she said quietly. Her eyes shot to the floor, then back to my face. “Are you Janelle’s aunt?”

“Meagan Bristol,” I said, nodding. “It’s nice to meet you in person.” I extended my hand, and the woman took it, shaking hands with me rather listlessly.

“Sara, Janelle is upstairs fixing her hair,” I said. “You can go on up if you want to.”

Sara was holding a large white envelope, and a rather worn out looking backpack. She looked at her Mom, then smiled shyly again, and walked past me and up the stairs to find Janelle.

I looked back at Colleen Davidson. She met my eyes steadily, but with a wariness that I didn’t quite understand. “Would you like to come in and meet Janelle’s parents?” I asked her.

“Oh, no, thank you,” she said. “I have to get going and get ready for work. Maybe another time.” She paused for a moment. “I’m sorry we couldn’t get Janelle a gift.”

I waved a hand at her. “Stop, please,” I said. “Janelle is thrilled that Sara’s here. I saw the card. She’ll be perfectly happy with that.”

The woman nodded and smiled briefly. At that moment I heard a Janelle give a happy shriek from upstairs, followed by shy laughter that must have been Sara. “I think Sara found Janelle,” I said.

“You’ll take Sara home after the party?” she asked.

“Of course,” I said. “Just give me the address.”

“We’re off of McConnell Road,” she said. “It’s the third right after you turn off Route 5. About two miles. You can’t miss it. Sara will get you there.”

“I know the area,” I said, nodding. “I’ll run her home as soon as everything dies down.” I smiled at her again.

Colleen nodded at me. “Thank you,” she said quietly. She hesitated for a moment. “For everything.”

I wonder what that means, I thought. “Thank you,” I replied, “for letting Sara come. Janelle really wanted her to be here.”

“I need to be going,” she said. “Thank you again.”

“You’re welcome,” I said. “I’ll make sure to tell Sara to call you as soon as she gets home.”

“That’s not necessary,” she said quietly. “My husband will be there.”

“Oh, okay,” I replied. Must be a one vehicle family, I thought.

The woman turned and started to her car. “Goodbye,” I said. “Try to have a good day at work!” No response.

What an odd woman, I thought.

Over the next hour or so, more and more kids showed up. Some came with gifts, some with just cards, all of them were chattering and laughing in that way that’s peculiar to little girls. Before too long, it was utter pandemonium, with sixteen, count ’em, sixteen hyperactive eight and nine year-old-girls shrieking, laughing, giggling and running madly through the house and around the back yard.

Make that fifteen. I noticed that little Sara hung back from the rest of the kids, looking a little shy, and very lost. I wasn’t the only one who noticed, either.

It didn’t take long for Janelle to notice that Sara hadn’t been included in the chaos. Then the count dropped to fourteen hyperactive little girls, and two quiet little girls sitting at the picnic table on the deck.

I shook my head slowly. You continue to amaze me, Janelle, I thought.

I watched as Janelle stood up, taking Sara’s hand and leading her out onto the lawn to join the other kids. Though she still looked shy, little Sara was at least taking part now, joining the other girls. Then I noticed Sarah-with-an”H” off to one side, whispering to a couple of other girls, pointing in Sara and Janelle’s direction. Uh-oh, I thought.

Sarah-with-an-H is one of those picture-perfect, Barbie doll looking kids who always looks as though she absolutely knows that she’s better than everyone around her. Since she had inherited her looks from her mother, I can only assume that the attitude comes from the same source. But while genetics and environment might explain the kid, they aren’t an excuse for her behavior. I don’t know the little girl well enough to actually dislike her, but I trust my sister’s opinion. She already looked like a supreme little bitch.

Don’t get me wrong. There’s nothing wrong with being a bitch from time to time. I embrace my own inner bitch quite regularly. It’s a girl thing. Get over it. I stop short of outright cruelty, though. I had heard enough about Sarah-with-an-H to realize that she probably enjoyed being cruel.

I heard Sarah-with-an-H call Janelle’s name, then saw her motioning to Janelle to come over. Janelle walked over to the small group of girls, and Sarah-with-an-H leaned close and whispered something in Janelle’s ear. Janelle froze for a moment, then stepped back, a look of rage — not anger, but true rage — slowly spreading over her features.

Here we go, I thought. It’s show time.

Janelle must have been speaking very softly, because I could see her lips moving, but I couldn’t hear a word. I stood up and started towards the group of girls. Then I heard one word come from Janelle, loud and very strong. “Now!”

Janelle had raised her arm and was pointing towards the house. I moved towards the girls, seeing surprise, then confusion, then anger on the face of Sarah-with-an-“H.” She masked it quickly, fixing a smug, haughty little smirk in place.

I was close enough to hear what Janelle was saying now. I was thankful that she’d had the sense to keep her voice low.

“You’re not welcome here anymore, Sarah. I want you to leave. Now.”

Sarah-with-an-H wasn’t going to be discreet, though.

I’d come into their field of vision now, and Sarah-with-an-H shifted her gaze towards me for a moment, then flicked back to Janelle.

“Fine,” she said, loudly enough to make sure that everyone heard her. “You think I want to stay here anyway, with your dyke girlfriend and your queer old dyke aunt hanging around?”

With a hateful look in Sara’s direction, then another in mine, Sarah-with-an-H stalked off towards the deck, calling for her mother. Her two sidekicks followed in her wake. Moe, Larry and Curly, I thought.

I sighed. Some things never change.

Janelle was on the verge of angry tears, but she held them back. She looked up at me.

“You okay, Sweetie?” I asked her.

She nodded. “Yup. I’ll tell you later what she said.”

Janelle glanced in Sara’s direction. I followed her gaze, and saw the little girl standing by herself again, looking distressed and ready to cry. She probably thought this scene was her fault.

Without another word, Janelle went back to Sara, whispering in her ear. I don’t know what she said, but it worked, because I saw a huge grin spread across Sara’s face. In under a minute, the remaining kids were beginning to return to their normal activities.

I headed back to the house, and went into the kitchen. I was in time to see the three little girls heading down the hallway towards the front door, three gift wrapped packages in their hands. There was an ice-queen-resembling woman standing in the kitchen with Kate, her face a mask of anger. The mother.

She was almost screaming at Kate. “You let her be around these children? What’s wrong with you?”

I knew what that meant. I smiled to myself. Time for me to embrace my inner bitch. Beware of flying venom, please.

I saw Kate open her mouth to speak. I raised my hand quickly to stop her. Her mouth closed slowly. I can fight my own battles, thank you very much.

“Excuse me,” I said, as coldly as I could. “Is there something you’d like to say to me, uhm… Miranda? It is Miranda, right?”

The woman spun to look at me. A look of haughty distaste spread across her perfect features as she looked me over from head to toe and back again.

“Is this true?” she asked me. You’re a… a… ” Her voice faltered.

“A lesbian?” I finished for her. “Am I a lesbian, Miranda? Is that what you want to know?” She stared at me with loathing in her eyes. “Why don’t you tell me, Miranda? Do I look like a lesbian?”

I raised my hand to my mouth and ran a finger over my teeth. “Hmm… No fangs. No claws that I can see on my hands. No slobber running down my chin looking at all these pretty little girls. I don’t know, Miranda. Tell me, am I a lesbian?”

That icy stare continued to try burning holes through my skull.

“You don’t get out much, do you, Miranda? This is a pretty small town, and except for college, I’ve lived here all my life. I don’t exactly try to hide the fact that I sleep with women. Ask anyone in town about Meagan Bristol, and they’ll tell you that I’m queer. Funny thing, though. Most people don’t seem to have the same problem with it that you do. I wonder why that is?”

The stare grew hateful. I was glad that there were no kids in the kitchen at that moment. “You’re an abomination!” She spat the words at me.

I smiled warmly. Okay, okay, not so warmly. But I did smile.

“Ah, now I understand,” I said. “I offend your Christian sensibilities, is that it? Well, Miranda, perhaps it will comfort you to know that when I’m making passionate love to another woman, I regularly call out to God, to Jesus Christ, and to all of the saints in heaven. Sex can do that for you. You should try it sometime.”

I looked her slowly up and down one time, then leered at her. “You’re not too bad looking,” I said. “If your husband can’t do it for you, I’d be willing to give it a try.”

She gasped, a look of horror crossing her face. I heard a choked snort come from Kate.

“If I see you near my daughter again, I’ll have you arrested,” she spat at me.

“I’ll do you one better, Miranda,” I said. “If I ever see that evil little bitch you call your daughter harassing my niece again, I’ll hunt you down and kick your proper little ass. I won’t bother with the police.”

Miranda’s mouth opened and closed several times, like a goldfish out of water. A look of fear flicked through her eyes, but it was masked in an instant. She spun around and stalked out of the house. We heard a car start, and speed off down the street.

The next thing I heard was Michael, laughing quietly. I turned to look at him. He was grinning at me.

“What?” I said.

He stared at me for a moment longer. “And you call Kate a bitch,” he murmured.

Kate sputtered and started laughing loudly. Too loudly for my taste. I couldn’t help it, though. I started laughing with them.

The three of us headed back out to the deck. The other moms came over to make sure everything was okay; the general consensus seemed to be that everyone was well rid of the Ice Queen and her little clone, as well as the two snotty friends. Kate quickly repeated what had happened, in a hurried, hushed whisper so the kids wouldn’t overhear. Peals of delighted laughter rang out as the women got the gist of what had gone down.

One woman, someone I didn’t recognize, broke away and came towards me, smiling brightly. “It’s Meagan, right?” I nodded. “Listen, if you decide you’re going to go beat that bitch’s ass, I want in on it,” she said.

Damn! I thought. I grinned at her. “Hopefully it won’t be necessary,” I replied. “But if it is, you’ll be the first to know.”

She nodded. “Good. I’ll hold you to that.”

I saw Michael smirking at me as the woman returned to the small knot of motherhood gazing out at the children on the lawn. “What?” I said.

“Nothing. Just watching the show.”

I stuck my tongue out at him. See how mature I am? He just laughed, the prick.

Janelle came trotting up onto the deck, telling her mother that she had to “pee really, really bad!” I decided I wanted to take a moment to talk to her, make sure she was okay, and perhaps find out what Sarah-with-an-H had said that set her off. I gave Michael a quick whisper telling him that I wanted to talk to Janelle for a minute; he nodded.

I followed Janelle down the hall to the small half-bath on the first floor. She heard me behind her and turned, her face lighting up in a dazzling smile when she saw who was following.

I went into the half-bath with her, and closed the door behind us. Janelle was squirming in that peculiar way that we females do when we really have to go. She gave me a questioning look as she quickly started unbuttoning her leather pants.

“I just wanted to check with you, Sweetie,” I said, “and make sure you’re okay after that little spat outside.”

Janelle’s face darkened for a moment. “Yeah, I’m okay, Aunt Meagan,” she said. “That stupid Sarah can go hang out with her other stupid friends for all I care. I don’t wanna talk to her anymore. And I sure don’t wanna be friends with her anymore, either.”

Her hips shimmied back and forth as she shucked her pants and undies down below her knees and sat on the toilet.

“What did she say that upset you so much, Sweetie?” I asked.

I heard a sigh, accompanied by the splashing of urine into the toilet bowl. Janelle looked up at me with a scowl on her face. “She just said some nasty stuff about Sara, and then about you.”

“You can tell me, Sweetie,” I said. “I’m pretty sure I’ve heard it all before, anyway.”

“She said that Sara is a queer little dyke, and if I hang out with her, then I must be a dyke, too. Then she said I prob’ly am a dyke, cause you are, and everybody knows that dykes always try to turn little girls into dykes, too.”

It’s a good thing that little witch had left. An even better thing that her mother had gone with her.

“Sweetie,” I said, “I’m so sorry you had to put up with something like that. I wish there was something I could say that would make it better.”

She gave me a puzzled look. “Why? I mean, I know you’re gay, an’ sometimes you call yourself queer or a dyke. But it doesn’t sound mean or dirty like it does when Sarah says it. I know she’s just stupid. Besides…” Janelle had peeled of a length off toilet paper and was wiping herself now, with a complete lack of self-consciousness.

“I know you an’ I’ve met some of your girlfriends. There’s nothing wrong with you. Even if I do turn out to be a lesbian, I don’t care. I’m still me, too.”

Nine years old, I thought. Nine years old, with the wisdom of a forty-year-old. My eyes burned for a moment, hearing those words from this lovely little girl.

Janelle stood up and flushed the toilet, then got her pants back into place. I got myself composed while she did.

I looked at her standing there. For a moment, I flashed on my thoughts of her last night, after I’d masturbated. That made me uneasy for some reason, so I pushed the thought aside.

“Hey,” I said, smiling at her. “Have I told you yet how absolutely “hawt” you look in that outfit?”

She blushed deeply, then stepped forward and wrapped her arms around my waist, hugging me tightly. I put my arms around her and hugged her back.

“I love you, Aunt Meagan,” she said softly.

“I know you do, Sweetie. I love you, too.”

When we got back to the deck, Janelle rushed out to the lawn to rejoin her friends. Michael looked at me and raised his eyebrows.

“She’s fine,” I said. “That’s one very remarkable little girl you have there.”

He gave me a smile. “You and Kate are the two main women in her life,” he said. “How could she be anything but remarkable?”

Sometimes my brother-in-law says the sweetest things.

“Stop it,” I said, “or I’ll tell Kate you’re hitting on me.”

He grimaced. “Fine. I won’t try to compliment you again.”

I grinned at him. He stuck his tongue out at me. The maturity in this family is absolutely boundless.

Kate started clapping her hands together loudly, calling all of the girls back up to the deck. It was time for the main event. The crowd was down to thirteen now, which really wasn’t much of an improvement. Well, okay, it was an improvement. Without Sarah-with-an-H and her two snotty little friends, it was a far more pleasant pack of rather noisy little girls.

Janelle, with little Sara by her side, sat down at the large picnic table. She seemed to have decided that she was going to adopt the new Sara, and I have to say, I approved of the idea. Though painfully shy and self-conscious, she seemed to be a very sweet little girl.

Kate nodded to me. That was my cue. I went into the house and began peeling back the foil from the box that held the cake. Michael was there with me, his job was to bring the ice cream. When he saw the cake, he burst into laughter.

“I did it for Kate as much as for Janelle,” I said, smirking.

“I’m sure she’ll just love it,” he said, still snickering. “Janelle, I mean.”

“She’d better. It took me hours to make.”

I got the cake out of the box by simply tearing the duct taped contraption apart. I stuck nine birthday candles in the main part of the cake, walked to the back door, and waited for Michael to light the candles for me. When we were ready, he opened the door for me, and I walked out to the deck, singing “Happy Birthday” as loudly as I could, and completely off key.

Yeah, I know. I said I don’t sing in front of an audience. Birthday parties consisting of a pack of half-wild little girls don’t count.

Everyone joined in singing with me, and I placed the cake in front of Janelle. Her mouth dropped open in surprise, then she giggled delightedly, beaming up at me. I followed her eyes as they glanced up at her mother, who stood beside her with a shocked, open-mouth look of disbelief on her face.

There were gasps, and lots of high-pitched little voices saying things like, “Coool,” “That’s so awesome,” “Ooh, sweeeet!”

The main part of the cake was a huge tree. It was a full three feet from the base of the trunk to the top of the leaves. At the top, the “foliage” spread widely out, about a foot or more to either side. Suspended from the branches, one on either side, were two beautiful snakes, hanging by their tails. Their bodies hung down, then curled back up towards the branches, where their heads faced out, smiling broadly with Cheshire cat grins.

When I say it took hours to make, I wasn’t lying. The whole cake itself was chocolate, Janelle’s favorite. The trunk of the tree was frosted with dark chocolate icing. The branches of the tree, and the two snakes, were done in white chocolate frosting that I’d tinted with food coloring. The leaves were bright green. The two snakes were colored to resemble Ellie and Nellie.

My snakes are rather rare strains of boa constrictors. Ellie is known as a Sharp Strain Albino boa. Her skin is an almost pure white base color, with very pale yellow markings. Nellie is a Salmon boa. Her skin is a light tan base color with darker tan to salmon pink markings. They’re both very beautiful snakes. I was quite proud of how accurately I’d depicted them on the cake.

“Snakes?” Kate gasped. “You made a birthday cake with snakes?”

“They’re boas, Kate,” I said, grinning. “They won’t bite. Though I have to admit, they are showing a lot of teeth, aren’t they? And they aren’t just any snakes, Kate. It’s Ellie and Nellie, which you’d know if you ever got close enough to look at them.”

Kate gave a long, hard shudder. “I hate snakes,” she said, “You know that.”

I grinned at her. “I do, yeah.”

My sister glared at me for a moment, but even she couldn’t pretend to be angry for long, not when Janelle was so obviously delighted. “Okay,” she said, “you win. Someone get some pictures of this monstrosity before it gets destroyed.”

Michael snapped a few pictures of the cake, Janelle blew out the candles, everyone clapped, and then one of the other moms helped her to start cutting it up and serving it. It was something of a hit — to eat, I mean. Nothing like a good, straight from scratch chocolate cake buried under mounds of ice cream.

I was going to have to be a good girl, and spend some extra time working out this week. No way I was passing up a plateful of my own creation.

When no one could eat any more cake and ice cream, it was time for Janelle to open her presents. I wanted to save mine for last. I went in to help Kate gather the gifts up and bring them out to the deck.

As we gathered everything together, Kate gave me her “special look.” “Thanks, sis. You did a wonderful job on that cake, even if you did have to be a bitch and bring snakes into my house.”

“Don’t call me a bitch… not just yet, anyhow!” I retorted. “You haven’t even seen the presents I have for her!”

She peered at me suspiciously. I blinked innocently. I can look innocent if I try. Really, I can.

Kate wasn’t buying it. “I’m not going to like this, am I?”

“Don’t be silly,” I said. “Janelle’s going to love it, which means you’ll love it because she’ll be so happy.”

“Uh-huh. Why don’t I believe you?”

I shrugged, innocently again. “I have no idea,” I said, giving my beloved sister a mock-hurt look.

The problem with trying to look innocent — at least when you’re me — is that people know you only too well. They’ve learned that I’m seldom innocent.

We brought Janelle’s gifts out to her on the deck. Mine stayed in the house, waiting until the end. There was the usual array of toys, books, clothing, little girl’s purses and makeup kits, etc. Most everyone who knows Janelle is aware that she’s not the type to play with dolls much, though she does have a few. One mom had even given her a student chemistry set. I couldn’t help but be amused as I pictured Kate trying to deal with miniature explosions and foul odors coming from Janelle’s bedroom.

Finally, it was my turn. I took a deep breath, ready to face the music, even though I knew that this was going to make Janelle’s day.

I decided to bring her gifts to her one at a time. I excused myself, went through the house and out to my Chevy to retrieve two small packages from the front seat, then a large one from the cargo area. I headed back in, put two of the packages on the kitchen table, and brought the first one out to her.

Kate watched me suspiciously as I handed the gift to Janelle. Michael stood on the sidelines, ready to run interference for me, I hoped.

Janelle unwrapped the small present. It consisted of two books. One was a very thick, very comprehensive volume titled simply, “Herpetology.” Herpetology, for those of you not familiar with the term, is the study of reptiles and amphibians. Including, of course, snakes. It was probably a little over her head, but eventually, I hoped that it would come in handy for her. I’d also given her a smaller, much simpler book called, “The Complete Book of Snakes.”

I’d written a short inscription in each, congratulating her on her ninth birthday and on her increasing love of snakes, wishing her much enjoyment as she read and learned more about them.

She looked up, smiling. “Thank you, Aunt Meagan,” she said.

I arched an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m not finished yet, Sweetie.”

Kate had a dawning look of horror on her face. Uh-huh, baby sister. I went there.

I brought out the largest gift next. It was huge, but not all that heavy, really. Janelle had to stand to tear the wrapping paper from it. It was a fifty gallon glass terrarium kit, complete with everything that would be needed to keep a snake comfortable and healthy.

She beamed at me. “Oh, sweet!” she exclaimed. She shot her mother a look. “Maybe someday, I can even have a snake to put in it!”

I glanced at Kate. She was still looking horrified, but also a little ill now. She got it. Janelle still didn’t. “There’s one more gift to go, Sweetie,” I said quietly.

I came out of the kitchen with the other small package. Kate glared at me, shook her head, then a look of defeated resignation fell over her face.

“Be careful, Sweetie,” I said, placing the package in front of her. “This one is a little fragile.”

Carefully, Janelle started to tear off the wrapping paper. She didn’t notice that there were small holes punctured in the paper around the sides. The paper came off to reveal a white cardboard box with small air holes around the sides. Gingerly, she opened the top of the box, and I heard her suck in a sharp breath, then coo quietly.

“Oh, Aunt Meagan, it’s beautiful!” she exclaimed.

Inside the box, coiled tightly in one corner, was a small, immature boa constrictor. I’d searched for several months to find this snake. She was about eight months old, still very young. Janelle was right. She was beautiful.

“She’s very young, Sweetie,” I said. “You’ll have to take extra special care of her. And listen, I want you to know something. If it’s really too hard for your Mom to handle having her in the house, you can keep her at my house, okay? You’re there almost every day, anyway, so you’d be able to take care of her and see to keeping her healthy.”

I glanced at Kate. I wanted her to know that the gift really was about making Janelle happy, and not about trying to irk my sister. She didn’t look very happy, but she forced a smile.

“Absolutely not,” she said. “This is something that Janelle really wants. I can learn to deal with it. But, I refuse to go in that room with the snake in it. I really don’t have to clean in there much anyway, but you’re going to have to vacuum that room every week. If you can promise me that you’ll keep your room clean, the way I ask you to, then you can keep it here.”

She looked at Michael, who had a look of shock on his face. “I can’t believe I just said that,” she muttered.

Every adult present burst into laughter at that.

I turned back to Janelle. “She’s called a Sunglow boa, Sweetie,” I said. “She’s very rare. She’s also one of the most beautiful boas I think I’ve ever seen.”

That was the truth. The snake was a very pale orange-white base color, with bright orange markings that were the color of the outside of a Creamsicle. Her eyes were the same color as her orange markings. She was a gorgeous specimen. I was lucky to have found her for sale.

“Can I pick her up?” Janelle asked me.

I nodded. “Very carefully, though,” I said. “She hasn’t eaten since I got her, but she’s still very young and delicate.”

Gently, Janelle reached into the box and lifted the young snake out. The rest of the little girls all “Ooo’ed” and “Ahhh’ed,” though they didn’t come too close, either.

Correction. Sara stepped closer. “She’s so pretty!” she exclaimed.

Janelle beamed at her. “You can pet her if you want to,” she said.

Very carefully, Sara reached out and gently stroked the top of the snake’s head. The slender forked tongue flicked out, tasting the air, scenting on the little girl’s hand. Sara cooed delightedly. “She’s not slimy at all!”

“Nope,” said Janelle. “Snakes aren’t slimy. They’re dry and smooth, really.”

She gently draped the young snake around her neck, cupping her hand beneath the neck the way that I’d taught her. I saw Kate shudder out of the corner of my eye.

Okay, so at least part of me was having a blast at my sister’s discomfort. Yes, I’m a bitch. Trust me, she’d think of a way to get back at me. She always does.

Keeping an eye on the pack of girls who were admiring the snake, I went to my sister. “Listen,” I said, “she really can keep her at my house if you want. I don’t think she’ll have a major problem with that. It will still be her snake.”

Kate scowled at me, then sighed heavily. “No, it’s okay,” she said. “I’ll learn to live with it. But you’d better watch your back.”

I looked at her innocently. “Why?” I asked.

“Because, you are so going to pay for this.”

“Now, now, little sister,” I teased. “Mind your manners!”

She glared again. “It’s not my manners that you need to worry about,” she said.

I laughed, patted her back and returned to the pack of girls.

“Janelle,” I said, “I think maybe we should take her up to your room and set up her terrarium, okay? She’s still a baby, and she’s had enough excitement for one day.”

Janelle nodded. I picked up the terrarium and headed into the house, Janelle on my heels, the other girls following behind to watch.

For the time being, we’d have to put the terrarium on the floor. I’d talk to Michael about building a stand for it. I set it down, and set everything up. Little Sara ran to the bathroom with the water dish, and returned with it filled almost to the top. I had her put it in the terrarium, back in one corner. Janelle stepped forward. I gasped quietly.

Suddenly, I found Janelle to be exotically beautiful. A slender, strawberry blonde little girl with enormous dark blue eyes, dressed in black leather, with a beautiful boa constrictor draped around her neck. She was only nine, and incredibly sexy.

I felt a familiar pang in my belly, then a flush of guilt. What the fuck? I thought, incredulously. I shook the feeling away. If you ignore something, it will go away, right?

Nope. Not on this plane of existence.

Gently, Janelle removed the snake from her neck and placed it in the terrarium. I showed her how to fasten the top so that the snake couldn’t escape, and gave her directions on using the light and heat lamp mounted in the top. She listened carefully, nodding.

When I stood, Janelle wrapped her arms around my waist in a tight hug, and I automatically returned it. “Thank you, Aunt Meagan,” she whispered. “You’re the best!”

“Nope. You are,” I said.

I rounded up the pack of girls and shooed them out of the room. The poor snake needed some peace and quiet. Me, I needed some time to think.

The party was finally winding down. The kids never did get around to playing in the sprinkler. One by one, the girls and mothers were leaving. Eventually, it was down to me, Michael, Kate, Janelle and Sara. Sara had come out of her shell a little bit, especially now that it was just her and Janelle left. She bustled around with Janelle, both girls helping the adults with the cleaning up.

She really is a sweet kid, I thought.

It came time, though, when I needed to take Sara home. I asked Janelle if she’d like to ride with us. She shot her mother a questioning look, and grinned when Kate nodded to her. I gathered up my purse, and told the girls to head out to the Chevy.

Sara went to Kate and Michael, smiling, but looking down at the floor shyly. “Thanks, Mr. and Mrs. McCarthy. I had fun today.”

Kate smiled. “You’re welcome, Sara,” she said. “And you’re more than welcome to come and visit any time you’d like.”

Sara smiled again and nodded. “Thank you,” she said, simply.

The two girls tumbled down the hall and out the front door. I heard the doors slamming on my Chevy.

“Bye, you guys,” I said. “It was a blast!”

Kate was still glaring at me. Michael looked like the proverbial cat who ate the canary.

“See you, Meagan,” he said. “Drive carefully.”

“Always,” I said. “I’ll drop Janelle off on my way home from Sara’s.”

They were walking me to the door. I got into my Chevy and started the engine, telling the girls to make sure their seat belts were buckled. I waved at Kate and Michael, then Janelle waved, and then Sara joined in. We headed off.

“So what are you gonna name your snake?” I heard Sara ask.

Janelle was quiet for a moment, as though she was thinking about this. I glanced in the rearview and met her eyes, looking at me thoughtfully.

“If it’s okay with Aunt Meagan,” she said, “I think I’m gonna name her after her.”

Pleased, I smiled in the mirror.

“Is that okay Aunt Meagan? Do you mind if I name her after you?”

“She’s your snake, Sweetie,” I said. “You get to name her anything you want to name her.”

“You’re sure she’s a girl snake, right?”

I nodded. Janelle knows that determining the gender of a snake can be tricky if you don’t know what you’re doing. “Yup, she’s a girl,” I said. “She saw the vet yesterday morning for a checkup, and I had him make sure. He also said that she’s in very good health.”

Janelle grinned hugely. “Cool! Then her name is Meagan!”

I felt that familiar little stabbing sensation in my lower belly again, this time accompanied by a little “skip-thump” of my heart. I was beginning to feel a little confused.

Okay, a lot confused. Not to mention guilty. I was still doing passably well with the denial thing, but I knew exactly what that stabbing sensation in my belly meant.

The only thing about denial is that you know you’re lying to yourself, even while you do it. I wasn’t at all comfortable with this reaction to my niece.

My nine-year-old niece, I reminded myself firmly.

I noticed that the closer we got to Sara’s home, the quieter she got. That also made me a little uneasy, but for a completely different reason. When a kid is that apprehensive about going home, there’s usually a reason for it.

At least it gave me something to focus on other than my own feelings. I needed that.

I kept a surreptitious eye on Sara as we got closer and closer to her home. She seemed to pull in on herself, almost physically. Her face started to take on that same look of defeat that I’d seen on her mother’s face earlier in the day. Something wasn’t right.

I tried to lighten the mood a little. “Sara, do you think your parents would let you have a sleepover with Janelle tomorrow night? The two of you could stay with me for the night, and I can bring you both to school on Monday morning.”

Sara looked at me in the mirror, a look of stunned surprise on her wan little face.

“Oh, that would be awesome!” piped up Janelle. “You think they would, Sara? We could have a blast at Aunt Meagan’s house. She’s got two snakes!”

“I can ask my Mom,” she said, a shy smile on her face again.

“Why don’t we just ask your Dad when we get to your house?” I asked.

The smile vanished. “Uhm, no, it’s better if I ask my Mom,” she said quietly.

Yup, I thought. Definitely something not right here.

“Would you like me to call her at work and ask her?” I said.

“No, you can’t call her at work or she’ll get in trouble,” said Sara. “But you could call her at home tomorrow, if you want to.”

“Okay, I’ll do that,” I said. “Is it okay to call early?”

Sara nodded. “Mom’s always up early,” she said quietly.

We were turning into Sara’s driveway now, a long, winding unpaved strip of dirt that led to a rundown old farmhouse set back from the road. It wasn’t a bad looking place, but it could use a little TLC.

I pulled up in front of the house and parked the Chevy. Janelle and Sara got out of the rear seat. Janelle was murmuring to Sara, but I couldn’t hear her. I got out and joined them just as Sara was turning away to walk up the porch steps.

“Bye, Sara! Thanks for coming to my party!” Janelle said.

“I’ll call your Mom in the morning, Sara. Thanks for coming!” I said.

Sara lifted one hand in a wave, without turning around. Her head hung down now, her shoulders were hunched forward. That one word kept knocking around in my mind. Defeat. The little girl walked like she was completely defeated.

Janelle sat in front with me on the return trip. I gave it a couple of minutes before I started to question her.

“Sweetie, do you know anything about Sara?” I asked.

She looked at me with a puzzled expression. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, do you know anything about what it’s like for her at home? Does she have brothers or sisters? Do you know where she lived before she came here?”

“I don’t think she has any brothers or sisters,” said Janelle. “If she does they’re not in school yet. And I only started talking to her yesterday, so I don’t know anything about home or where she’s from. And she doesn’t really talk to anybody at school, so I don’t know. Why?”

“Just curious,” I said. “I know she’s not from around here, or I’d know her parents.”

Janelle was silent for a few minutes. “She always seems so sad, Aunt Meagan,” she said quietly.

“Yeah,” I said. “I kind of thought that, too.”

We were quiet the rest of the way home. When we got to my sister’s, Janelle unbuckled her seat belt and opened her door. Before she got out, she stopped for a moment.

“Thanks again for my boa, Aunt Meagan,” she said, smiling. “She’s just too awesome for words.”

“You’re welcome, Sweetie. I know you’ll take good care of her; that’s the main reason I went ahead and got her for you.”

She nodded soberly. “I will, I promise.”

“Fill your Mom in about the sleepover idea, okay? And ask her to call me a little later on.”

“‘Kay, I will,” she said. “That would be so cool if Sara can come.”

“Well, why don’t you plan to stay over either way. Hopefully Sara will be able to come, but if not, you and I can still have a sleepover.”

She grinned happily. “‘Kay. Bye, Aunt Meagan. Thanks again!”

Maybe Sara won’t be able to come, I mused. I immediately slammed a lid on that thought.

Janelle jumped out of the Chevy, slammed the door, and ran to the house. I waited until she went in the door, then pulled out and headed for home.

I deliberately and very forcefully kept my thoughts occupied with things other than Janelle when I got home. I was beginning to be very afraid of what I was feeling.

When the phone rang, I jumped. I’d been involved with some tricky vector graphics on the computer, and it startled me. I checked the caller ID. It was Kate.

“Hey, little sister,” I said, by way of greeting.

“Hi, Meagan. What’s up? Janelle said you wanted me to call?”

“Yeah. Did she tell you about the sleepover idea?”

Kate snorted. “What do you think?” she said. “She’s upstairs packing some things now.”

I laughed. “Okay, great.” I said. “That’s not the main reason I wanted to talk to you, though.”

“What’s up?” she asked.

“I don’t really know,” I said. “Did you happen to notice anything odd about little Sara today? Sara with no “H” I mean.”

“Only that she seems to be really quiet and shy. Why?”

I described how Sara had changed as we got closer to her home, and the way she had looked as she was going into the house. I also made mention of her quick refusal to have me ask her father about a sleepover.

Kate was silent for a minute. “That does sound kind of odd,” she said quietly. “What are you thinking?”

“That’s just it,” I said. “I don’t know exactly what I’m thinking. But if her mother lets her come over here to spend the night tomorrow, I’m going to see what I can find out. Something just isn’t right there.”

“Okay, well, don’t go jumping to any conclusions too fast,” she said. “She might just be really shy. But keep me posted, okay?”

“I will,” I said. “You want me to pick Janelle up tomorrow, or do you want to bring her over?”

“Uhm… if you’re offering to come and get her, I won’t refuse.”

“You got it,” I said. “Tell her I’ll be there at about ten o’clock.”

“Okay,” she replied. “And Meagan, thank you. I don’t really like the idea of that thing being in my house, but you made Janelle very happy today. She’s thrilled to death with that hideous creature.”

“Hey! She’s not hideous! She’s beautiful.” I paused, then, “Did she tell you what she named her?”

I heard a deep sigh. “Yeah, yeah, I know. She named it after Super Aunt.”

“Her, Kate. She’s a her, not an it.”

“No, it is a snake. There’s nothing female about it.”

This was fun. I do love to get under Kate’s skin. “Fine. You go right ahead and refer to my namesake as an it.” I was trying to feign hurt feelings.

Kate wasn’t buying it. She snorted again. “You’re the only person I know who would be flattered at the thought of someone naming a snake after you.”

“A beautiful snake,” I said, “Who was given a beautiful name, in honor of Janelle’s beautiful aunt.”

“Whatever.”

I snickered. “Bye, Kate. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You will if that creature doesn’t kill me in my sleep,” she said.

“Bye, Kate.”

“Night, Meagan.”

I hung up the phone. Now, though, Janelle was at the front of my thoughts. Damn it!

I sighed heavily. I did not want to examine these feelings that I was only now becoming aware of. Feelings about Janelle. Frankly, they scared the crap out of me.

I took my evening shower, brushed my teeth, and got ready to relax for a while. Maybe a good movie will take my mind off things, I thought. Something I’ve seen a thousand times, one that I adore.

I decided to watch Casablanca, and just be a vegetable.

The tactic worked, at least for the length of the film. While I watched it, I indulged myself and had three glasses of a very nice Merlot. By the time the movie ended, I had nice little glowy feeling; I turned off the television, put my wineglass in the sink, and headed up to bed.

So much for good intentions.

I’ll spare you most of the gory details. I’m sure that you really aren’t interested in a play-by-play of my nightly autoerotic activities. I will tell you why I found myself tossing and turning for the rest of the night, even after another mind-numbing orgasm, followed by a second smaller, but no less satisfying second one.

Physically satisfying, at any rate. They left my thoughts in a state of utter turmoil.

I had reached the point where I was clawing hungrily towards that first orgasm, the purple vibrator buried deep within the hot, wet depths of my pussy. My left hand was doing double duty, fingers working the vibrator in and out of my clutching, spasming sex, the heel of one hand pressing down on my clit, sending repeated shocks through my body. My right hand had slipped beneath my ass, also doing double duty. It was helping to support my weight as I held my hips high off the bed; the index finger was probing and teasing at my rosebud. As it slid finally through the dark anal ring, I moaned, and felt the orgasm begin to pour through me.

That’s when it happened. Yup, you guessed it.

In my mind, I had a picture of Janelle sitting “Indian-style,” stark naked, on the bed between my widespread legs. She was watching avidly as my hands feverishly worked at my pussy and ass. As I began to moan my way into orgasm, she looked up at me, a beautiful smile on her face.

I heard her little voice in my mind, breathy and full of wonder. “Are you coming, Aunt Meagan? Is this what happens when you come?”

Even with the shock that slammed into me at such a mental image, the orgasm tore its way into my soul.

I’m not normally a screamer; I’ll moan and groan endlessly, but it takes a lot to make me literally scream. This was one of those rare occasions.

Thank the Goddess that I don’t live in an apartment. The neighbors would have thought I was being murdered.

It lasted for what seemed an eternity. Through the bright, exploding little pinpoints of silver light that peppered the backs of my eyelids floated that mental image of Janelle, naked, sitting between my obscenely splayed legs. I saw a look of sheer delight on her face as she chattered away at me in my mind.

“You’re doing it, Aunt Meagan! You’re coming! Oh my God, Aunt Meagan, it’s so awesome! I wanna do it, too, Aunt Meagan, I wanna come, too! Can I come, too, please?”

Finally, blessedly, she fell silent. Her image remained, though, smiling fondly at me as I slid down the back side of my orgasm, my body twitching and shuddering, then finally collapsing to the mattress.

I was afraid to open my eyes, fearing that I might find her sitting there between my knees. Please don’t be there, Janelle, I thought desperately.

I let my eyes open slowly, heaving an enormous sigh of relief when I found myself alone. It was the first time, I think, that I’ve ever actually been grateful for being alone in my bed.

Sighing again, I slid the purple vibrator from my pussy. Automatically, it came to my mouth, where I cleaned all traces of my wetness from it. I put it to the side, and my hand drifted back to my mons. Without any conscious thought on my part, my hands continued to explore and caress, my body slowly coming down from the orgasm.

I couldn’t get the image of Janelle out of my mind. Not remembered images, but the fantasy image that my perverted, twisted mind had conjured up. The image of my nine-year-old niece, sitting naked between my legs, smiling as she excitedly urged me on into my orgasm, begging me to let her experience her own.

What the hell is wrong with you, Meagan?

Even as the question snarled through my mind, though, that image of Janelle stayed in place. Without any warning, I was suddenly on the verge of another orgasm. Not as intense this time, but an orgasm nonetheless.

As I plunged three fingers into my slick pussy, I heard myself babbling and moaning. Not just thinking the words this time, but actually speaking them.

“Oh God, Janelle, sweetie… I want to come for you, baby… come with me, sweet girl… come with Aunt Meagan, baby…”

The words kept coming as the climax rolled and twisted on an unstoppable course through my body and my mind. I was at once more aroused and yet more dismayed and angry with myself than I can ever remember being in my life. But I couldn’t stop it.

Finally, the orgasm burned itself out. I snatched my hands from between my legs and rolled myself into the covers on my bed, grinding my face down into the pillow. I was sobbing, gut-wrenching gulps of air. There were tears soaking into my pillow.

Eventually, the sobbing subsided. The tears did not. I fell into a troubled sleep, tossing and turning, waking frequently throughout the night. My dreams consisted of half-remembered news reports concerning child molesters, pedophiles, child pornographers.

I woke in the morning, exhausted and cranky. I got out of bed, pulled on my robe, and went to make coffee. When it was done, I sat on the couch, sipping coffee, trying to make sense of what had happened the night before. I glanced at the two glass terrariums that hold my lovely boa constrictors.

Ellie and Nellie seemed to be glaring at me. Logically, I know that snakes have very poor vision, and if they could see me at all from that distance, I was nothing but a shapeless blur to them. Nonetheless, I swore I could read accusation and disgust in their faces. I can’t say that I blamed them.

What the hell have I become?

Continue on to Chapter 3

 

Loving Lisa, Chapter 1

  • Posted on December 13, 2016 at 4:22 pm

By JetBoy

Introduction: This is adapted from / inspired by “Loli,” a story by Louisa May. It is the fourth of my reworkings of her lesbian erotica.

More than any other author, it was Louisa May who made me want to write sex fiction. I posted my first story nearly ten years ago and never looked back. Along the way, I used to unwind from long bouts of writing by tinkering with the stories of other writers, interpreting their work in my own way — like a jazz musician taking a familiar tune and turning it into something new. I especially enjoyed this exercise with the stories of Louisa May.

These were done for my own pleasure, never intended to be made public — at least not until I sent a copy of one of them to fellow author Androgyne as a thank-you for her nice remarks about one of my stories. She wrote back to insist that I post it at Leslita. After I replied with my reservations about doing so, she suggested that I present the story as a loving tribute to Louisa May.

I ended up doing several more variations on her stories; thankfully, one day Louisa May appeared again at Leslita with a new offering, and gave me her blessing when I wrote to call her attention to my humble efforts.

It should be mentioned that I’ve really only retained the plot of “Loli” here. The story itself has been thoroughly rewritten in my own style, with considerable details added that weren’t in the original. So if you don’t like what you read, it’s not Louisa May’s fault.

Thank you, Louisa May, for your wonderful stories and your kindness. Wherever you are, may your joys be many, your tribulations few.


Summer had just begun, the weather was glorious, and my eleven-year-old daughter Vanessa had a new friend who was dropping by for a dip in our swimming pool.

Lisa’s parents had recently moved to our area, just in time for their daughter to catch the last two months of fifth grade at my daughter’s school — a transition that couldn’t have been at all easy for a girl on the cusp of teenhood. Luckily, my Vanessa met Lisa a few weeks before school let out, and had taken a liking to her right away. That was when I began to hear about “…this new girl from St. Louis. She’s the coolest, Mom!”

I’d just spent a week getting our swimming pool ready for summer — started up the filtration system, topped up the water level, chlorinated it, vacuumed it, skimmed it, burned incense and intoned a prayer to the gods over it. Now my labors were complete, and Vanessa wanted to show it off, so Lisa was invited to our home for the first time.

I remember thinking even then, as I stood at the living room window, watching the girls frolic in the water, that there was something truly fascinating about Lisa. For one thing, she had incredibly bright red hair that shone like copper in the midday sun. Then there was her pretty freckled face, which had a tendency toward very cartoonish expressions when she was excited. Which was often.

She had a walk that I’d have to describe as cat-like. Or perhaps it was more like a dancer’s interpretation of a cat prowling its space, somehow restless and relaxed at the same time. There was a slight hunch to her shoulders that angled her head forward just a bit — as if she was on the alert, ready to pounce at some unseen prey.

I didn’t notice myself getting turned on right away, or that I was deriving genuine pleasure from watching little Lisa so closely. What I remember is studying the girls as they nimbly capered in and around the pool, comparing one to the other. I recall being impressed with how much Vanessa had grown over the winter, especially her cute rounded bottom, so different from Lisa’s slimmer one.

Nessa’s breasts were coming in nicely — I’d gotten her fitted for that first training bra only a few months earlier — while Lisa’s were only just beginning to bud. On the other hand, her nipples were rather prominent. I could see them, clearly defined as anything through her one-piece bathing suit. Are they erect, I found myself wondering, or just big for her age?

Then, after a particularly animated leap into the water, Lisa scrambled from the pool, only to reveal that her suit had crept up into the cleft between her legs in a most revealing way. Casually tugging it back down, she darted back to the diving board, flinging herself back into the deep end with a Tarzan yell.

I stared, uncertain of why my heart was racing so. Goodness me…

I’d been leading a bisexual life ever since splitting with my husband two years earlier — in fact, my love for women was what finally put the kibosh on an already shaky marriage — and as time passed, my craving for lesbian sex only grew more intense. I still liked men, but they seemed increasingly less interesting to me.

That said, the idea of being aroused by a girl of eleven was a bit too much to wrap my head around, so my mind simply refused to acknowledge it. Denying the obvious, I blamed the glow I felt inside on the mellow warmth of the day, as well as the great mood I was in.

In fact, I felt an abrupt urge to put on a bathing suit, go onto the patio and join the fun. Usually when Nessa had friends over to swim, I let them have the pool to themselves, figuring that nobody needed Mom getting in the mix. Too much like having a supervisor around, putting a damper on everyone’s fun. But that day, my need to be a part of things was simply too strong to resist.

I made my way upstairs and dug through the bottom drawer of my lingerie chest, digging out my old reliable beer bottle-green one-piece bathing suit, the one I always swam in — then suddenly, I paused.

I’m bored to tears with this old thing, I thought, studying it critically, then stuffing it back in the drawer under everything else. The gesture felt liberating, like burying a part of myself that I was well rid of.

Taking a deep breath, I padded over to the walk-in closet and switched on the light. Inside, sitting next to my shoe rack, was a certain neon-blue shopping bag I’d placed there last July.

I seated myself on the bed, reached inside and pulled it out — the skimpiest, most daring bikini I’d ever owned, black as sin and just as enticing, its price tag still attached.

I’d seen it in a hip little boutique one day, when my friend Erica and I hit the mall together a year or so after my divorce. The instant I laid an idle finger on it, her eyes had lit up like a pinball machine. “Honey pie, you have got to have this,” she announced in her transplanted Georgia drawl. “Wear that li’l old thing to the beach, and you’ll be beatin’ the men off with a pool cue!”

I wasn’t quite ready to tell Erica that my tastes were leaning more toward the ladies…. so I made some lewd crack of the order of How exactly do you beat a man off with a pool cue — and what happens if he likes it? We shared a good laugh, then moved on to another store. But Erica insisted on buying me that black bikini before we left. “An early birthday present, dear heart,” she laughed, shoving the bag into my hands.

Now nearly a year later, I was slipping into it for the first time. While half my brain asked, Who on earth are you wearing this for? the other half insisted that I ought to look as good as possible around Vanessa’s cool new friend.

The moment of truth. I steeled myself for that first glimpse in the mirror, then slowly turned to face it.

Yes. Oh, my, yes. Pivoting from side to side, turning around to check myself from the back, I studied the effect and approved. Pretty damn fine for a thirtysomething mom, yes indeed. That gym membership I’d signed up for after my divorce had been money well spent.

The new bikini was a daring choice, revealing much more skin than I was accustomed to — in fact, my ass was all but completely bare. But right then, it was exactly the image I felt like projecting to the world. I may look more like Florence Henderson than a supermodel, but a mom can still be sexy, can’t she?

Preparing myself to make a grand entrance, I sauntered toward the bedroom door, made my way down the stairs, then boldly strode out onto the pool patio as if I was mounting a catwalk.

It got the reaction I wanted and then some. From the middle of the pool, Vanessa ceased her splashing and turned to look — then her eyes got somewhat enormous.

Mom!” she squealed. “Holy cow, what are you wearing?”

From her seated perch on the edge of the diving board, Lisa gave a wolf whistle, those lovely bare legs of hers swinging back and forth. “She’s wearin’ a hot bathing suit, dumbhead!”

Nessa gave her friend a mock-scowl. “I can see that, ya goofball!” She swiveled back to me. “Where’s your green suit, Mom?”

Trying to look perfectly innocent, I replied, “Well… I just felt like trying something different today.” I looked down at myself. “I don’t know, hon — do you think it doesn’t work for me?”

My daughter studied me, pursing her lips. “No, it looks really good, I guess. But it’s so, so…”

“Sexy!” cried Lisa, now standing on the diving board. There was an eager glint in her eyes, a look I’d almost describe as hungry — like this girl of eleven wanted to put me on a cracker and devour it in a single gulp.

Then she astonished me even further by doing a leggy little bump-and-grind dance, chanting “S! E! X! Y! SEXY!” I could only stare as Lisa worked it, her slim hips churning to and fro.

Suddenly she bounded forward, did a big bounce on the edge of the diving board and leapt into the pool. Her head broke the surface about two feet from where Vanessa stood, and she shrieked, “SEXYYYY!”

Vanessa snickered. “God, you are such a nut.”

Lisa reached out and grabbed her new friend’s arms, “No, no, c’mon — do it with me!”

So Vanessa, suddenly caught up in Lisa’s giddy mood, joined her in shouting “S! E! X! Y! SEXYYYY!” even throwing in some improvised cheerleader moves before collapsing in a fit of splashes and giggles.

The thing was, I did feel sexy. Hot and bothered, even. Something about strutting my stuff in front of two cute young girls really seemed to get my motor purring, I still didn’t quite understand why. But as long as it felt good, why stop showing off?

As I walked to the ladder, I added a sensuous sway to my gait, very conscious of two pairs of eyes taking in the sight. I turned to descend and, with a little hitch and a dip, lowered myself into the water, then did a couple of laps from one end of the pool to the other to warm up, pausing to sweep my wet hair back.

“I’m gettin’ all wrinkly,” Nessa said, frowning at her hands. “Hey, Lisa, wanna go watch TV? We got a big old box set of Bugs Bunny DVDs.”

“Sure, but in a minute,” Lisa answered. “I wanna swim just a little bit more, okay?”

Vanessa shrugged. “Well, I’m gonna get out before I shrivel up.” She clambered out of the pool, dripping all over, and grabbed a towel from one of the deck chairs. “C’mon into the family room when you’re done!” she added, vigorously drying her hair as she padded into the house.

For the first time that afternoon, the patio was quiet. Then a bashful Lisa came paddling over to me. She treaded water for a moment, clearly wanting to speak. Finally, she said, “Hi, Ms. Johnson.”

“Hello, Lisa,” I replied, giving her a welcoming smile.

I stood against the side of the pool, my arms stretched out along the edge, face tilted upward to catch the sun’s warmth, Lisa gazing at me the whole time. I glanced over at her every once in awhile to find her big eyes on me. They were greener than I thought it possible for eyes to be, especially against her freckled skin. They gave her face a very pretty, very elfin quality.

“That’s a really cool bathing suit,” Lisa said, the words coming out in a rush.

So adorable. I had to smile. “Thank you, Lisa. I’m glad you like it.” I was, too.

She nodded, then her expression turned wistful. “I wish my mom would let me get a new bathing suit.”

“Well, maybe she will soon,” I murmured. “It’s certainly the time of year for it.”

She gave a disdainful huff. “Naah. She says this one,” and she peered down forlornly, “this stupid thing has to do me for the whole summer! It hardly fits, even! Can you believe it?” She was scowling very cutely, her nose scrunched up like a Lisa cartoon.

That was when fate handed me a flash of inspiration, and I seized it with both hands.

“You know what, Lisa? We might have something you could use. Vanessa has swimsuits galore, and I doubt she needs all of them, so why don’t I pick out a couple–”

“Omigosh! How cool!” Lisa squealed, She fell back and did a somersault in the water. As she did, I could see that yes, she was in dire need of a new swimsuit — the crotch had slipped to one side, giving me a brief glimpse of pinkness between her legs.

Before I could fully digest what I’d seen, Lisa burst from beneath the water snorting, grinning, and glowing with happiness. “Thank you, Ms. Johnson! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She swiftly paddled over to me and placed a clumsy kiss on my cheek, then just as swiftly swam to the ladder and hoisted herself out of the water.

I couldn’t help but stare. That one-piece suit didn’t fit her very well — I don’t know what her mother could have been thinking — and revealed a glistening, pale-skinned, and absolutely flawless bottom.

As she bent to pick up her own towel, Lisa quite casually reached around to pluck the suit out of her rear once again. Quickly towelling off, she strutted into the house, turning to call out, “See you inside!” accompanied by a little wave.

I stood there in the water like an idiot, trying not to let my mind dwell on that peek I’d just gotten of Lisa’s sex. Deep down inside, my conscious self was beginning to realize where these feelings of arousal were coming from — but I stubbornly thrust those thoughts away.

She’s a nice girl, I told myself. I’m so glad Vanessa made friends with her. Then my mind turned to the prospect of finding Lisa a suit among the ones my daughter never wore any more, of helping her try a few of them on, adjusting them on her…

Suddenly I found myself wanting to go back to my room for a moment and… unwind.

Was that how I justified it to myself? All I knew was that there was a stubborn tingling between my thighs that simply had to be dealt with. So I got out of the pool, dried myself, then wandered up to the bedroom.

The door was half ajar, and I was startled by the sight of Lisa, stripping off her bathing suit in front of my large mirror. I’d heard Vanessa downstairs, and had assumed that they were together.

She paused, intently studying her reflection in the glass. The mirror didn’t catch the door, or me.

The one-piece suit had been pulled down to her waist, leaving Lisa topless. She peered at herself, then suddenly thrust her chest out — a gesture I remembered from my own younger, less developed days. She caressed her breasts, then brought both index fingers to her nipples and lightly teased them. I watched, utterly enthralled, as the dark buds stiffened visibly to her touch.

Then she tugged her suit down even further, just enough to reveal her slit. She studied that too for awhile, then abruptly turned to check out her bottom. She arched it out, then pulled the suit down to her knees to see it bare.

My sex was pulsing like a bass drum, and that sensation only grew more acute when Lisa pulled the suit all the way down and stepped out of it. Looking over her shoulder, she reached back to spread her cheeks apart with both hands, exposing herself completely.

Oh, my. I grew warm all over as the realization hit me that I wanted to be there, down on my knees behind this exquisite young girl, kissing that beautiful bottom.

I was stunned — ashamed of myself, of these feelings. But not enough to stop watching.

A good thing too, because she abruptly turned to face the mirror and sat on the bed, thighs wide apart, her vagina wide open to the glass. And she began to touch herself.

This is what, I think, sent me over the edge of arousal into obsession — watching this eleven-year-old girl masturbate so freely in front of the mirror, the same one that I’d used many times for the same purpose.

Lisa continued to fondle her bare sex… and though I couldn’t see well enough to know for sure, I pictured her fingers glistening with moisture, sweet honey oozing from her slit as she grew more and more excited.

As for me, I was more turned on than I’d ever been in my life.

All of a sudden Lisa threw her head back, gasping as she began to come. She shook and whimpered, her body rocking back and forth, fingers digging between her thighs. Finally a cute little squeak came from her open mouth as she froze for a long moment, then sighed happily and slowly lay back on my bed.

I moved back slowly, tiptoed through the hallway and almost ran down the stairs. I stopped in the kitchen and absently opened the refrigerator door, my mind in a whirl.

What in God’s name was happening to me? I was lightheaded with desire and scared silly. All my life I’d seen myself as a normal, well-adjusted woman. Now I was lusting after a girl of eleven! Images of Lisa’s nude body assailed me, made my cunt throb. I pictured myself lying between her spread legs, licking at that sweet, smooth slit — No, damn it, don’t go there.

I stood gaping at the refrigerator’s contents, looking without seeing anything.

“Mom?” I started, then turned to see Vanessa looking at me, hands on her hips. She was wearing a long t-shirt over her damp bathing suit.

I did my best to appear calm, despite the storm raging inside. “Hmm?”

My daughter rolled her eyes. “What’s up? You’ve been standing there lookin’ in the fridge for, like, ten minutes. Can I get in there now?”

I stepped aside. “Sorry, hon, I’m just… thinking about stuff. Guess I went away for awhile there.” I glanced around the room. “Where’s Lisa?”

Vanessa reached to the back of the top shelf for a can of 7-Up. “She went upstairs to change. Don’t know why it’s takin’ her so long.”

I did some mental calculation, and decided that Lisa ought to have gotten herself cleaned up and dressed by then. “Go up and see… and while you’re at it, you get changed too, kiddo. You’ll catch cold in that wet swimsuit.”

“Mm. Yeah, guess I better.” Vanessa popped the can open, took a deep swig, then left the room, headed for the hallway stairs.

“Don’t leave that empty can in your room,” I said, but she was already gone.

There I was, alone with my very dirty, very forbidden thoughts. God, I need a stiff drink.

Opening the refrigerator again, I extracted a fifth of Stolichnaya from the freezer, unscrewed the top and poured a generous slug into a plastic Little Mermaid tumbler, the first thing my hand encountered in the cabinet. I threw back the drink and paused for breath as the icy heat of the vodka hit me.

I’d just put the bottle back and rinsed out the tumbler when Lisa came into the kitchen, fully dressed and with a freshly fucked look on that cute face of hers. Sounds crude, I know — but I knew that look, and Lisa had it. Eleven years old or not, she had it. The slightly tousled hair, the dreamy cast to her eyes and, more than anything else, that rosy afterglow of a good orgasm.

Her eyes met mine, and an adorable hint of pink appeared on her cheeks.

“Want a 7-Up?” I asked her.

“No, thanks,” she replied, shaking her head. She did look a bit guilty, unconsciously avoiding my gaze.

“Lisa?”

She turned to me, those enchanting eyes of hers widening slightly. “Hm?”

I gave her a look of concern, all the while trying to still my racing heart. “Are you feeling okay? You look a bit, um, out of breath.”

Another blush. “I’m okay.” She seemed to want to say something. Finally, she did. “Ms. Johnson?”

“Yes, Lisa?”

She hesitated. “Oh, nothing…” I waited. She looked back at me again. I played along.

Lisa remained silent, so I placed a hand on her shoulder. Big reassuring smile. “What is it, dear?”

“Do you…?” Lisa’s hands were clasped tightly before her.

“Do I…?”

When she spoke, it all came out in a torrent. “DoyouthinkI’mpretty?” The words finally out, Lisa quickly covered her flushed face with both hands, peeking at me between the spread fingers.

I just stood there, the next thing to being naked in my black bikini, trying to conceal the passion that was raging inside me. Taking a deep breath, I knelt down in front of Lisa, uncovering her face by taking one of her hands and cradling it in mine.

“Oh, Lisa… of course you’re pretty.” I suppose I should have left it at that, but the sight of those emerald eyes made me add, “In fact, you’re just about the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” Now I was blushing.

She just stared at me, her mouth slightly open. “Really? Really and truly?”

All I could do was nod, lost in the awakening joy I saw on Lisa’s face.

She suddenly opened her arms and wrapped herself around me. I felt her lips briefly nuzzle my neck, and came perilously close to moaning out loud. Unable to help myself, I drew her slender body even closer to mine in a warm, affectionate hug.

My head swam as I breathed in Lisa’s scent, drinking it in like fine wine, feeling an almost violent rush of lust when I recognized the telltale bouquet of sex. I longed to take her index finger into my mouth, see if I could taste the sharp tang of her pussy.

Before I was ready to break our embrace, her arms released me, and we slowly moved apart. She smiled sweetly, whispered, “Thank you,” then left the room without a backward glance. My eyes were drawn to that cute bottom of hers, and I was already thinking about a few things I wanted to do to it.

I rose to my feet, then stood motionless for a moment, my body humming like a struck bell. With one hand, I touched the place on my neck where her lips had been, while the other found its way between my thighs, pressing in tightly, feeling the heat of lust through my bikini bottoms.

All right, now I would go to my room and lock the door behind me. It was time to get out of this bathing suit and into some serious self-exploration.

Continue on to Chapter 2

 

School Memories, Chapter 3

  • Posted on December 12, 2016 at 2:40 pm

By Passing Cloud

I remember a feeling of empowerment when I awoke the next morning.

I had given my older sister an experience of ecstasy for the first time in her life. I had done it — no-one else. It was a sense of achievement; an awareness of my own capabilities. I felt proud and in control.

Then on top of that, I had found a way to give myself that same experience. With deft manipulation I could have that self-pleasure virtually any time. Two major events in one night, three in one day. My god, what would happen today? I strode purposefully off to school, my big sister trailing in my wake. My mind raced and I thought about Maria. I wished and hoped that she would be eager for some sort of repeat of yesterday, and I would have a chance to show her what I could do. To show her my newfound talents; to give her a taste of the pleasure that she’d already given me. I wanted her to love and want me like I did her.

It didn’t quite turn out that way, though.

My morning passed again in a haze of imaginings, but I did manage to stay out of trouble with the teachers until, at lunchtime, I was able to sprint off in search of Maria and the ‘gang’.

I met them, out of breath, in the playground near the library. They greeted me warmly, particularly Maria who, as I ran to her, casually put her arm across my shoulders (my heart leapt) and affectionately stroked the back of my head, trailing her fingers through my hair, briefly touching the skin on the back of my neck. (Oh, my…)

To my dismay, the first thing she said was “I couldn’t get the key today, so we can’t go in there,” nodding towards the hall. Then, seeing the disappointment written on my face, she smiled broadly, gave my shoulders an encouraging squeeze, and said, “But that’s alright; we’ll find somewhere else to go with my favourite little girlfriend.”

With her arm still resting casually on my shoulders, and me positively glowing after her “favourite little girlfriend” line, we wandered off behind the library — seemingly aimlessly — but actually with real purpose.

It was an old school covering many acres and, as newer facilities had been developed, the older buildings had fallen into varying levels of disuse. Such a one was before us now — a detached double unit, dating from the forties, boasting high steel-framed windows — still miraculously intact — now used as an almost-forgotten storage space for random pieces of school furniture and paraphernalia.

There was no one else about, so Maria tried the door. The old steel handle squealed as she pushed it down, and the frame juddered and groaned as she pulled, but happily, with just a little effort, the door creaked open just enough for a little girl to get through.

We quickly slipped inside, pulled the door closed behind us, and disappeared behind the haphazardly stored furniture.

It was a sunny day, and dust danced in the intensified light which burned through the tall windows. It was hot, much hotter than outside, and there was an eerie quiet — broken only by the sound of our feet as we shuffled through the maze of old furniture. I was dazzled by the glare as I gazed around, following Maria as she manoeuvred through the melee. There were butterflies in my stomach: adrenalin rising.

We came to a small area in the midst of an array of tall cupboards — an area out of sight from the outside, where a number of chairs were stacked beside a low table.

Maria pulled a chair off the stack and sat down, commenting, “Nobody can see us here.”

In turn taking a chair and sitting down, Nancy said, “What should we do, then?”

Kathy and Jude followed suit, taking a chair each and dropping into place with Nancy and Maria. They unconsciously formed a little enclave around the low table, one on each side, facing inwards. There were no more chairs.

Suddenly feeling isolated and awkward, I stood meekly behind Maria, saying nothing, self-consciously twisting my hair around the fingers of one hand while nervously gnawing a knuckle of the other.

Maria spun around, straddling the chair. She leaned on the chair back, rested her chin on her arms as she looked at me. There was a glow about her, a spark in her big brown eyes. A huge smile spread across her face and I was once more bewitched by her beauty; her full red lips, her even white teeth. I longed for her. She really was stunning. I noticed the flash of her pink tongue as she spoke.

“I know what I’d like to do.” She paused. “I’d like to see my little girlfriend naked.”

The butterflies instantly returned as panic swept through me. I didn’t know what to say. Wide-eyed, I looked around to the left, to the right — as though desperately seeking a way out.

The panic didn’t last long, however.

Maria stood, took my hand in hers. She lifted my chin with her fingertips, gazed into my eyes, said, “Will you, Little Sis… for me?”

Then the clincher. She bent down, put her lips to my cheek, kissed me gently and whispered, “Please.”

I felt the imprint of her lips like a burn. I was hers. No doubt. I would do whatever she wanted.

I bowed my head a little, and looked up at her from under my brows. It was a look of humility. I managed a sweet little smile, then nodded my assent.

“Yes!” she exclaimed, “fantastic!” She took my hand again and, leading me as if onto a stage, said, “Here. Stand on the table and do it there so we can see you properly.”

As I stepped onto the low table (fortunately in one piece and quite stable), the others, who had been silently watching up to this point, burst into a spontaneous (if quiet) round of applause. Jude started to hum the tune from “The Stripper,” and the others all laughed, even Maria.

For a moment I had second thoughts, and pleaded, “Don’t make fun, or I won’t do it.”

Again Maria soothed me. She put her hand on my arm, squeezing gently. “We’re not making fun of you, Sis, I promise. Come on, strip off for us.”

She sat down and there I was, surrounded on all sides by eleven-year-old girls who were intensely scrutinising me, waiting for me. I was the centre of their attention. Suddenly I felt important, wanted. I began to feel good.

I was facing Maria, who smiled up at me. To my left was my sister Kathy, to my right Nancy, and behind me Jude.

“Take off your blouse,” instructed Maria.

I pulled my crisp cotton blouse out of the waistband of my skirt and hurriedly unfastened the buttons. Taking hold of the open front, I quickly checked the faces around me. They were all staring, all smiling.

I removed the blouse and threw it onto an adjacent chest of drawers.

For a moment I self-consciously wrapped my arms around my naked torso. I felt vulnerable, exposed. Then I felt it. That warm glow between my legs, the feeling I had begun to crave: arousal.

In my language of the time, I was starting to feel “sexy.”

“Take your skirt off.” It was Maria again, another instruction — and more compliance from me.

I unfastened my skirt and let it drop to the table top. I stepped out of it and threw it alongside my discarded blouse.

There were a couple of comments then. “Ooh, sexy bum!” Nancy shouted.

“Nice knickers!” giggled Jude.

“Take them off,” said Maria.

I looked around again. The faces were suddenly more intense, more alert. Half-smiles flickered, tongues licked lips. I noticed a slight flush to Nancy’s cheeks. My sister was leaning forward, her arms folded in her lap. Jude’s eyes seemed strangely liquid.

I realise now that she wore her lust like a badge.

I faced Maria again. I looked into her eyes and watched as her gaze lowered; became focused between my legs.

I kept my eyes on her as I started to push my panties down. I slid them along my thighs, slowly — then, when they were at my knees, I let them fall. I stood up and stepped out of them.

Automatically my hands went to cover myself, flapping nervously in front of my bare vulva.

“Move your hands,” ordered Maria. “Put them on your head.”

I should have felt embarrassed, but I was actually grateful for the instruction. Having somewhere to put them, they were no longer my responsibility. Not my problem.

So I stood, naked except for my shoes and socks, and displayed myself.

Maria spoke again. Leadership seemed effortless to her. “Take your shoes and socks off. I want you with nothing on at all. Then put your hands back up.”

It was a strange moment for me. Essentially naked, I was feeling quite comfortable exposed like that, with the girls examining me. But as I passively removed first my shoes, then my socks, I began to feel more than naked.

In the brilliant, relentless sunshine, I felt oddly helpless, with no one to protect me. Vulnerable, like a baby.

Now with my hands back on my head, Maria instructed me again. “Open your legs a bit. Let’s have a good look at you.”

As I moved my little feet slightly apart — the table top wouldn’t allow any more — Maria got up and stood facing me. She was close, so close I could feel her breath on my face. Then, smiling warmly throughout, she started to feel me.

First she put her hands on my face, caressed my cheeks, my eyelids, my lips. She ran her fingers through my hair, then stroked my hands and forearms, which remained in place as she had instructed.

Her hands started to move down to my neck, then my shoulders.

She felt along the inside of my raised arms, stroked my sensitive armpits. I squirmed, my face contorting.

“Does it tickle?” she asked, her hands resting on my sensitive skin.

I nodded, suppressing a giggle, and looked pleadingly into her eyes.

Her grin widened and hinted at wickedness, as she said, “Don’t move,” then started to tickle me in earnest. Her flickering fingers drummed and played in my armpits, then tormented my ribs, then back under my arms. Again and again she did this, for what seemed like minutes. Her smile turned to laughter as I squirmed and wriggled under her gorgeous cruelty. She laughed as she ordered me to, “Stay still. How can I tickle you properly if you keep moving about?” The others were all laughing and giggling too as she tortured me, but I somehow managed to stay upright, to endure, to actually enjoy what she was doing to me. My helplessness manifest; and I was soaking.

Her tickles turned to caresses then as she felt my chest, gliding across my tiny nipples, making me tremble.

It felt lovely and I wanted her to do it again.

Instead she crouched down, sliding her hands down my flanks, reaching behind to caress my small, round buttocks, then down the full length of my legs — front and back — then, even, to my naked toes, which she stroked and examined in detail.

She stood up then, trailing her hands up the inside of my thighs until, blissfully, I felt her cup my vulva in her hand and slide her finger along the tight slit.

She said, “Let’s show the others,” and nudged me round so I was facing Nancy. Crouching down again, she carefully parted my little lips and, smiling at Nancy, simply said “Look at her little cunt. I love it!”

Nancy, even more flushed, reached out to touch me. Maria stretched me wider as Nancy’s finger tips tickled my exposed clitoris. She chuckled playfully as my hips involuntarily jerked, and I uttered an appreciative “Oooh!”

Softly she asked, “Is that nice?”

I could only respond through tightly pressed lips. “Mmmm.”

She took hold of my hips and told me to turn around. Jude was looking up at me. She was also smiling. Her eyes lustfully roamed up and down my body.

Maria, however, hadn’t finished with Nancy yet. With a hand on each of my buttocks, she used her thumbs to part my cheeks. I sensed the movement as Maria and Nancy moved closer to look at my anus.

I could feel their breath on the back of my thighs.

I can’t begin to express how exciting it was, that personal inspection — my most secret, private place (or so I thought) being looked at, examined in broad daylight. It felt so rude, so forbidden. I loved it.

Again I instinctively jerked my hips as I felt a fingertip’s soft caress between my cheeks.

Misunderstanding my reaction, Maria gently chided, “No, Sis, don’t do that. Don’t move away. Let her.”

I felt the finger touch my anus and Nancy sigh, “Oh,” then “Ooh,” then, to Maria, “I can’t believe I’m touching her here.” She giggled then and I felt a light pressure on my anus. It felt so nice that I wanted her to push harder, but instead Maria said, “Okay, move round. It’s Jude’s turn now.”

So the process was repeated — first with Jude, then with my sister Kathy. Jude seemed to be allowed longer to examine my anus — which she did while simultaneously tickling my clitoris — all the while commenting on how it looked and felt. Finally, as she almost penetrated my sphincter with her probing finger, she said, “That’s great. I love her little bum hole.”

By comparison, my sister only spent a short time inspecting me — presumably in reaction to her passive role at my hands the previous night — but nevertheless her soft touch and eager praise sent thrills of pleasure through me.

When they’d all had their turn, Maria stood up in front of me again. She put her hand between my legs and started to stroke me rhythmically along my slit. Her other hand played with my nipples, stroking, squeezing and lightly pinching them in turn.

It felt wonderful.

I stared at her lovely face as she played with me. I was gently swaying to this sensual rhythm, floating in pleasure, loving her more and more with each caress, when she leaned forward and whispered the question, “Have you ever been tongued?”

Continue on to Chapter 4

 

I Was the Daughter of a Porn Star, Chapter 63

  • Posted on December 11, 2016 at 5:39 pm

Cheryl’s Commercial Movie Debut

By Cheryl Taggert 

If you need help keeping up with the characters, you may go here.

It was settled. Mom had agreed to make the movie with me, but Bob warned all of us that in no way could I actually do anything with my mom on camera.

“The viewers will know you are her daughter, since that is going to be a selling point for the movie,” he said. “So any sexual contact between the two of you, no matter what you do in your private lives, will land all of us in jail. About the most you can do is put your hand on her butt.”

“Jeez, Bob!” I said, “Stop worrying. I get it, okay?” He was really starting to irk me with his constant reminders. He was treating me as if I was still a little girl of eight or nine, not a young woman of eighteen.

The three of us were in makeup, each sitting in our chair with a woman applying the proper amounts of foundation, lip gloss, eye shadow, mascara and pancake to prevent us from looking either like ghosts or like cheap hookers. The same women did our hair, too.

We were naked to get makeup, except we were wearing bathrobes, which I thought was silly, but as Mom said, “It’s what’s expected.” Me? I wanted to get things started. I’d been horny and on edge all day. My mood got so bad that morning that Jenna went for a bike ride instead of being in the same house with me.

“Fuck, Cheryl!” she said as she went out the door. “If this is how you’re gonna be whenever you make a movie, I hope this is your last one.”

I won’t go into what prompted her to say that because it’s kind of embarrassing I was being so difficult. All I’ll do is admit she was right. I was being very bitchy.

Deanna seemed to be totally unfazed by the movie we were making. Mostly, she was spending the money she’d be making. She kept going on about what she would get with the money to the point I was starting to hate her.

I’m not sure why I was so out of sorts, but I was. Deanna went so far as to ask if I might start bleeding during the movie, thus suggesting I was PMS-ing like crazy.

“I finished two weeks ago,” was my sullen response.

Mom seemed to be the only person not bothered by my mood. Mostly, she just ignored me and my little tantrums. But I guess she’d been around them for eighteen years, so they no longer seemed to faze her.

Bob came into the makeup room and told us we could begin as soon as we were finished with makeup.

“I’m finished now,” I said, but Chandra, the woman doing my makeup disagreed.

Placing a strong hand on my shoulder to nudge me back into my chair, she said, “You ain’t done yet, girl. Keep your robe on til I tell you you’re done. You’ll get that pussy licked soon enough.”

I knew Chandra from my years of coming to the set. She’d been working for Bob’s production company for about seven years now, doing makeup and hair. I just stared in the mirror at her reflection and made a face, squinching up my nose and eyes to show my anger. She was old enough to be my grandmother, and I usually gave her the respect she deserved.

“Don’t be giving me that look, missy. You know me well enough to know I’ll put you over my knee and give you what for.”

“Mom wouldn’t let you,” I said, earning a chuckle from my mother.

“Sure she would,” Chandra said. “In fact I bet she’d help hold you down.”

“She’s right, you know,” Mom said.

Chandra was a large African-American woman who didn’t take lip from anyone, especially an eighteen-year-old girl like me that she’d known since I was eleven. She must weigh three hundred pounds, and she was threatening to use all of them to crush me.

I did the only thing I could do when threatened by a woman so much bigger and older: I sat back, folded my arms in defiance, and pouted.

Because I’d been so uncooperative, Mom and Deanna were done with hair and makeup well before I was. As if from some invisible signal, Mom rose from her chair and said to Deanna, “Let’s go check out the set.”

They were gone, and now only Chandra and I remained in the makeup room.

She was working on my hair and began nonchalantly. “Okay, Littlebit, what’s goin’ on?”

She had always called me ‘Littlebit’ because I always had ‘a little bit of mischief’ in me. “As well as a little bit of horniness,” she would add with a laugh. She had never shown any interest in doing anything sexual with me or anyone else on the set. To her, this was just a job, but she was well respected by every member of the production crew. One new young actress had cussed her one time, calling her a — well you know the word I mean — and Bob fired her on the spot. I was in the room when it happened because my mom was getting her makeup done as well at that moment and I was just hanging out with her.

When she said that word, all eyes in the room turned to look at the actress as if she’d lost her mind, but as my mom said later, “Honey, she never had a mind to lose.” Bob had overheard it, and he burst into the room. He was so angry he could barely speak. I was frightened because I thought he might hit her, but he didn’t. Instead, he picked up the girl’s clothes that were on a chair nearby, tossed them at her, and told her to get the hell out. She argued, trying to explain herself, but he didn’t care. He wouldn’t even let her get dressed, making her leave the building naked, since the robe belonged to the production company.

The actress’s protests of possibly getting arrested for public nudity were met with his response of “Good! You deserve to be in jail.” Needless to say, the girl probably, as they say, ‘never worked in this town again.’ Bob knew everyone in the business, and I’m certain he made sure she didn’t find work in the adult film industry after that, at least not in California, which back then was about the only place in the U. S. where adult films were made for worldwide distribution.

Anyway, that’s how respected Chandra is.

When she asked me ‘what’s going on’ I just slumped down in my chair and started to tear up.

“Don’t you go crying now,” she said. “Tears will just mess with your makeup and I don’t wanna have to do it again. You’re real pretty with no blemishes, but I don’t want you to have to sit in here any longer than you have to, not to mention it would piss Bob off royally that you were making everyone late.”

She handed me a tissue, and I dabbed my eyes to prevent the tears from spilling over.

“I don’t know, Chandra. I’ve just been a bitch all day. Actually going into last night.”

Chandra smiled at me. Her grin was huge and her teeth were as white as milk. “Girl, you just got the nerves, that’s all. You’re putting too much stock into this one movie. You’re thinkin’ if you don’t do well, your professional life as a porn star will be just one film that is mostly forgettable.”

I looked at her and I think my jaw may have dropped. It was either like having a ton of bricks lifted from me, the news of what was going on inside me was so welcome, or like a ton of bricks had been dropped on me, the shock of hearing it was so great. I hadn’t realized it before, but everything she was saying was true. I had been worried that the movie wouldn’t turn out to be as good as I’d been hoping. I was afraid this would be it. I’d been secretly waiting anxiously to turn eighteen so I could follow in my mother’s footsteps, and I worried that now that it was a reality, she might be disappointed in me if I failed, regardless of her misgivings a few weeks ago.

It’s funny how we can obsess over things and not realize it. All of this sudden knowledge hit me, like that ton of bricks.

“How did you know?” I asked. “I didn’t even know, really.”

“First, you ain’t the first girl to come in here feeling that way. Second, you’re too close to your own feelings, so you sometimes don’t see ’em. I’m not, so I can see what you’re too upset to notice.”

“What will I do if this fails?” I asked.

“Honey, you’ll just keep goin’ with your life. It’s a good one, you know. I wasn’t sure about your mama lettin’ you do sex things when you were little, but now I see you’re just fine. No big hangups, no resentment. You’re charmed with good luck and the fact you’ve been allowed to live the life you feel in your soul. Lotsa people can’t say that, you know.”

Suddenly, I was consumed with love for this woman who’d mostly been a peripheral presence in my life until then. I wondered why I had never seen the wisdom that lived behind those eyes so dark they looked like coal. I actually smiled for the first time in quite a few hours.

She smiled back at me and returned to doing my hair, nothing major, just a French braid.

“Sweetie, you just go out there and do what comes naturally to you and you’ll be fine, and so will this movie. For the people who pay for this kind of film, this will be a classic. You’re the daughter of one of the most famous porn stars in the world, and you’re appearing in your debut film with her playing your mother. If you go out there and just enjoy yourself the way I’ve seen you enjoying yourself on these sets for so many years–” her tongue clicked on the roof of her mouth, making a wet snapping sound –“everything will work out fine. Believe me, it will.”

“Thank you, Chandra. I love you, you know.”

“Oh, child, you just need to learn there’s a lot of things us old folks can help you with because we’ve just been around a whole lot longer than you.”

We laughed together and the self-made cloud that had been raining on my parade disappeared.

Within five minutes, I was ready, and when Bob came in looking angry and found Chandra and me laughing together, with me almost ready, his look changed from pissed to confused in less than a second, which made Chandra and me laugh even harder.

I stepped out of the makeup room and followed a still confused Bob to the set. The bedroom where the scene would take place was beautiful. The walls were a soft pink, and there were various red set pieces to form a sort of contrast. There were red pillow cases and a red quilt on the bed, which had a shiny, white headboard for more contrast, and Deanna and I would be putting cherry red nail polish on our nails while we talked about sexual topics prior to deciding to experiment with each other. To set off the reds and soft pink, the sliding glass door’s curtains, which were partially open to show the pool and its tantalizing blue water in the background, were a brilliant white, like the headboard of the bed, which was plush and inviting.

Bob looked at Deanna and me. “Wardrobe has your outfits ready, schoolgirl uniforms that have been sized to fit you both like gloves that are tight in all the right places. As soon as you’re dressed, you’ll come back here and we’ll begin shooting.”

“Okay,” I said. “Where’s my mom?”

“Already in wardrobe.”

“Oh, okay. Duh,” I added.

He looked at me, still not understanding my quick mood change. “Not that I want you to go back to being the harpy you were a short time ago, but what happened to change you into, well, Cheryl?”

“Nothing, really. I’d just suggest you pay Chandra whatever she wants so you don’t lose her.”

Deanna was confused, too, but I think she cared less than Bob did. She had known me too long to allow herself to be bothered too much by my moods. She didn’t care how I returned to my old self, as long as I had.

“So, we’ll start with the two of you entering the bedroom together and throwing your book bags, which are over there,’ he said, pointing, “on the floor beside the bed. Make sure they’re not too close to the bed though. We don’t want anyone to have to pick them up to get them out of the way during the scene. Then you’ll sit on the bed to chat. Be sure you’re both sitting with your ankles crossed under you to allow the camera to get a shot of your panties. You know, with your knees spread.”

“Sure thing,” I said. “God knows we’ve teased enough boys together doing that at school.”

“Whatever,” he said. “Do you both know what kinds of topics you’ll talk about? I don’t want you to get into the sex talk too quickly.”

We weren’t given scripts for these movies. We were just expected to improvise conversation to eventually lead to where we were supposed to end up, which was in bed together, of course.

“Yeah,” Deanna said. “We’ve been discussing nothing else for days now.”

“Okay,” he said. “We’re going to shoot the sex scene today and the add-ins tomorrow.”

The ‘add-ins’ were things like the two of us arriving at the house outside, walking through the halls and such on the way to the bedroom, getting a snack in the kitchen, those kinds of things. They would be spliced into the movie later, with the credits overlaid on the images. That was something that would happen in the editing room, of course.

Deanna and I went to get into our school girl outfits. As we dressed, we talked casually.

“It’s funny how the whole world is like, so anti-pedo, yet the most well-liked adult films involve girls who are dressed to suggest they are not over eighteen,” I said.

“Yeah, if the world really understood that children can be just as sexual as any adult, they would lighten up a bit.”

“I’m certainly not for forcing a boy or girl to do anything they don’t want to do,” I said.

“Of course not. That’s sick.”

“But there are a lot of girls like us out there. I mean, look at Callie. All it took was someone who cared about her to introduce her to the joys of sex and she took off like a rocket. And she’s not crazy or suicidal. I think the guilt is what makes many kids who get caught messed up. They’re made to feel dirty and almost sub-human or something,” I said.

“Yeah, you and me and Callie and people like us were never made to feel guilty for having sexual feelings and acting on them.”

As I finished dressing, I said, “I think I’ll pursue that topic in college.”

“Really? Children and sex?” Deanna asked. Her expression told me she was both surprised and intrigued.

“Yeah. You know, like the sexual attitudes of children in a guilt-free atmosphere as opposed to those who are made to feel guilty about it, and the end results, psychologically speaking.”

“Sounds like you might be studying child psychology or something.”

“Yeah,” I said. “It does sound interesting.”

Deanna laughed when she said, “Maybe you and Marie could open your own clinic. She could deal with children’s bodies, and you can deal with their minds!”

I laughed too. We all knew why Marie was studying to be a pediatrician. She had always thought they had the best job because of all the naked children they got to see. Marie had added, “Who knows what might develop between a girl and her doctor?”

Deanna and I reported back to the set. We were ready to begin. I was more relaxed than I’d been in days, thanks to Chandra’s talk with me.

Bob greeted me with, “I talked to Chandra about what happened in there before to make you change your attitude. I told her I might need the psychology to use on Callie one day.”

“What did she say?” I asked him, truly curious if Chandra would tell him.

“She said it was none of my business, and if I needed help with Callie I should just send her to the makeup room.”

I laughed, feeling more love for Chandra. We hadn’t said anything about our conversation being private, but she had known I didn’t want the world to know what I’d been feeling these last few days.

I began to think of this intelligent, African-American, mountain of a woman as my own personal psychologist.

Bob had us leave the room so they could film us entering and started my career by shouting, “Quiet!” All became silent, except for someone saying, “‘School Girls in Private’, scene seven, take one,” followed by the sound of what is called the clapboard slapping its two parts together to make a snapping sound.

I looked at Deanna and held up both hands, crossing my arms and fingers, and she did the same. Our porn career had begun.

We heard Bob say, “Action!” and we entered the room. The opening of the door and our entrance turned us from eighteen-year-old girls into porn actresses. It was an event that had our lives situated on each side. It felt a lot like listening to the numbers of a Powerball and watching as your numbers matched, one by one. There would always be the moment before we walked through that door that stretched backwards in time to our childhoods, and the walking through the door and the future that stretched out before us, a future that forever would change our lives, but always to be marked by that instant.

I couldn’t have been happier, nor more frightened. But I at least had control of the fear now.

Continue on to Chapter 64

 

My Niece Janelle, Chapter 1

  • Posted on December 10, 2016 at 3:16 pm

Introduction by JetBoy: A Little History

It was about seven years ago when I first stumbled onto Muffi’s story “Mommy, Show Me How” while idly searching the Internet for juicy lesbian fiction. Immediately smitten by what I read, I dropped her a line to tell her how much I enjoyed it. She went on to join yours truly among the roster of authors at the Lesbian Lolita site, and a long-distance friendship was born.

Soon she began a new story, a lengthy one, “My Niece Janelle.” Four chapters were completed and posted, then Muffi contacted me with a problem: her regular editor was unavailable, and she’d never worked without one. She asked me to take on the task, and I happily accepted.

We quickly discovered that the two of us worked extremely well as a team. She would write the chapter, I’d tinker with it and make suggestions, and we agreed about 99.5% of the time. (Much later, I went back to the earlier chapters and edited those as well. These will appear for the first time at Juicy Secrets.)

Muffi’s characters are so vividly drawn that it was easy to get into their heads and think like they do. This came in handy when she got stuck on chapter 9 and found herself unable to finish it. She asked me to complete the chapter… and we were both pleased with the result.

Muffi chose to depart our scene a couple of years ago for personal reasons. She is profoundly missed. As her editor and occasional collaborator, my hope is to write a concluding chapter for this story. Like all the others, it will be credited to Muffi. “My Niece Janelle” will always be her creation. She built the house — all I did was slap on a coat of paint and move the furniture around a bit.

Wherever you are, Muffi, my thanks, love, regards, and eternal friendship go out to you.

yrs, JetBoy


My Niece Janelle
By Muffi

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

For the men out there reading this, you’ll pardon me if I’m a bit cynical, but I believe that you’ll enjoy this story that I’m about to tell you if for no other reason than the fact that it illustrates that women can be every bit as perverted as any man. I’ve also noticed that for some reason, men seem to be completely fascinated by the idea of two females being sexually involved with each other. I’m not sure why that is, but whatever. Let’s just say that what you’re about to read isn’t your typical girl-does-girl story, leave it at that, and let you read on.

This is a serialized story, and as such, it will take some time to get to the lesbian sex. Please be patient…

***

My name is Meagan Bristol. I’m a thirty-something-year-old woman, queer as a three dollar bill, and this is about how I made the startling discovery that little girls are the ultimate sexual turn-on for me. Well, at least one little girl is.

Mind you, I don’t run around seeking out children to molest. But I have fallen completely, utterly, desperately, head over heels in love and lust with one little nine-year-old girl. She’s my sister’s daughter, Janelle. And we now share a relationship that is quite simply the most amazing experience of my life.

Furthermore, my niece has seen fit to bring her best friend into our relationship. That initially scared the living hell out of me, but I’ve grown accustomed to it, and as you’ll see, it can be quite, um… stimulating, shall we say?

Janelle and I have always been close. Ever since she was a toddler, we’ve spent a lot of time together. We’ve always been more like best friends than aunt and niece. These days, most families are in the position where husband and wife, or partner and partner, both have to work in order to make ends meet, and my sister and her husband are no exception. As a freelance graphic artist, I’m pretty much able to set my own schedule, which leaves me free to take care of Janelle while her parents are at work, saving them some considerable money in child care expenses. I’ve never minded — quite the contrary. I love being with Janelle, spending time with her, doing things with her. As I said, we’re more like best friends than anything else, regardless of the difference in our ages.

Contrary to the opinions of some, most gay people are not interested in children as sex partners. We aren’t all out there on the prowl, seeking to molest the first little boy or little girl we come across. For my part, I never once thought of a child in a sexual way before I became smitten with Janelle.

I don’t know what will happen between us down the road, but I’m a realist. I’m more than twenty years older than Janelle is. I seriously doubt that this will last forever. If it does, then I won’t complain, but if it doesn’t, which is much more likely, I won’t hesitate to let go of her, either. But for now, I’m going to enjoy what my niece and I share together, revel in it, and do my best to make sure she knows how much she’s loved.

This all began about six months ago, give or take a few weeks. It was the day before Janelle’s ninth birthday. I’d picked her up after school and brought her back to my place, where we were planning to spend some “girl time” together until her Mom got off work and picked her up. I’d promised to help her paint her fingernails and toenails in preparation for the big day, which fell on a Saturday. She was beside herself with excitement, because she was going to have a big party that afternoon.

Janelle is something of a tomboy, really. Not what you’d call a “hardcore” tomboy, but she’s definitely not a girly-girl, either. She’ll put on dresses and skirts for special occasions, but she much prefers jeans and sneakers. That Saturday definitely counted as one of those special occasions, so we were planning on dolling her up completely, making sure that she looked the proper ladylike part.

We’d done the whole girl thing in the past, but this was the first time that Janelle had ever thought about having her toenails painted. Her mother had bought her a cute little pair of open-toed sandals, and when I mentioned doing her nails, she thought that sounded like a fabulous idea. So there we were on the day before her birthday, sitting in the middle of my bed with bottles of nail polish and a bag of cotton balls. We were chatting and giggling, having a wonderful time.

Janelle was fascinated by the toenail painting process. Her feet are terribly ticklish, so it took a little while to get the cotton balls snugly situated between her toes. She kept squirming, laughing insanely while I tried to wedge the bits of cotton in place. The task finally accomplished, we sat facing each other and I got to work, one tiny foot cradled in my lap as I applied the bright pink polish to her toenails.

I was intent on what I was doing, peering down at her foot as I began to apply the first coat. Janelle suddenly went silent for a few moments. I thought that she was just concentrating on not being ticklish. When she spoke, though, there was a serious tone to her voice.

“Aunt Meagan, can I ask you something?”

“Of course, Sweetie,” I absently replied, carefully finishing the edge of a toenail. “You can ask me anything, you know that.”

She hesitated for a few heartbeats. I looked up at her, and saw that her face was very serious now.

“What is it, Sweetie?” I asked.

“What does “bulldyke” mean?”

What the hell? I thought. Where did that come from?

“Sweetie, where did you hear that?” I asked her.

“From Sarah,” she replied. “See, there’s this girl at school, her name is Sara, too, ‘cept she doesn’t have an “H” at the end of her name. Anyways, most of the kids don’t like her, I don’t know why. She’s really quiet, and she doesn’t hang out with hardly anyone at school. So, today, I decided to eat my lunch at the same table with her and try to talk to her. I feel sorry for her, cause nobody else really likes to be around her cause she’s kinda different. Anyways, after lunch, Sarah — the other Sarah, I mean — told me I shouldn’t hang out with Sara, cause she’s a bulldyke. What did she mean, Aunt Meagan?”

It took me a moment to sort out the rush of words, and to get Sarah and Sara straight. I felt a sharp stab of sympathy for little Sara, who seemed to have earned, somehow, the hateful label of bulldyke.

I took a deep breath, then looked back down at Janelle’s toes, continuing to apply nail polish.

“Well,” I said, trying to choose my words carefully, “that’s a term that some people use to describe gay women.”

Janelle knew already about my sexual orientation. Her parents are quite open with her about things like that, and on those occasions when she’d seen me with a date or with one of my short-lived girlfriends, she’d been curious. So she knew what it meant for a person to be gay. She didn’t seem to have any problem with it, just a natural curiosity.

Apparently, though, she’d never heard some of the more vicious terms for non-heterosexual people. Welcome to real life, Sweetie, I thought.

“But what’s it mean, Aunt Meagan?”

“Uhmm…” I was trying to figure out the best way to describe to a little girl, a day shy of being nine years old, what it meant to be a bulldyke.

“Bulldyke is a stereotype, Sweetie. Do you know what that is?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“A stereotype is when you believe that a certain thing is true of everyone in a group of people. Like, when you say that Irish people drink a lot of booze, or all black people have big lips, or all gay men act like girls, or all Asian people are really smart. “Bulldyke” is a term that people think of when they see a woman who looks like a man. When she’s big and strong, and maybe has really short hair, or acts like a man. Some people, as soon as they find out that a woman is gay, start calling her a bulldyke as an insult.”

Well, that was probably the worst definition I’d ever heard for the term — but then, I’d never been asked to define it before.

“But Sara doesn’t look like a man,” Janelle said — rather indignantly, I thought.

I laughed. God, to be nine years old again.

“I’m sure she doesn’t, Sweetie,” I said. “But she’s quiet, and she doesn’t hang out with the other kids much, right?”

“Yeah. She’s really shy, I think. She just keeps to herself mosta the time.”

“Sweetie, sometimes, when people think that someone is different than they are, they don’t know how to react. For some reason, they’re afraid of people who are different. So, they call them names and insult them. I don’t know why, really; it’s just the way that some people act.”

I had finished with Janelle’s right foot, and I took her left foot in my hand and began to paint her toenails.

“That’s just stupid!” Janelle exclaimed. “When I ate lunch with Sara today, she was nice. She didn’t say much, but she was nice. Why would Sarah say that about her?”

Sarah/Sara again, I thought.

“I don’t know, Sweetie,” I said. “Maybe she got jealous because you sat with Sara and not with her. She might be afraid that she’ll lose a friend.”

“Well, that’s just silly. I can be friends with more than one person, can’t I?”

“Of course you can. I really don’t know why Sarah would say something like that, Sweetie. You’d have to ask her.”

Janelle got quiet again for a few moments. I kept on painting her toenails.

“Aunt Meagan, why do people hate gay people so much?”

This one was pretty easy. We’d talked about this before.

“Because most people are afraid of anyone they think is different, Sweetie.”

“But, why?” she asked, almost desperately.

“Well,” I began, “it’s just how people are. Look, you’re not afraid of snakes, are you?”

“Nuh-uh,” Janelle said, shaking her head.

“But, do you remember when you used to be so scared of them?”

She nodded. “Uh-huh.”

“That was because you didn’t understand them. Snakes are different than you, of course. They’re snakes, not people. You just didn’t understand anything about them. But when you learned about them, and found out that they’re pretty cool, you stopped being afraid, because you understood them better. It’s sort of the same thing. If someone is different, a lot of people are afraid of them, because they don’t understand them.”

I keep a couple of boa constrictors as pets, in case you were wondering why I used snakes as an example. Janelle used to be terrified of them. Now, she has to at least pet both of them every time she visits, and she loves to drape them around her neck now. Snakes make good, low maintenance pets. Toss them the occasional rat, and they’re good to go.

“But, that’s not the same,” Janelle said. “I mean, snakes are animals. Gay people are just people. Why would anyone be afraid of them?”

“For the same reason that some people are afraid of people who don’t have the same color skin as they do. They’re afraid because they’re different.”

Janelle sighed. “I’ll never get it,” she said.

“Honestly, Sweetie, I hope you never do get it,” I said. “I hope you go through your whole life not worrying about how people are different from you, and just focus on how they’re really the same as you are.” I sat up straight. “Okay, the first coat is done. We’ll let that dry, and then put on a second coat, okay?”

Janelle lifted one foot, looking at her toes, wiggling them a little.

“That looks so cool!”

“I’m glad you approve of my artwork,” I said.

She beamed at me.

Janelle is such a beautiful little girl. Even for her age, she’s small and very slender. Willowy, would be a good word to describe her body type. She has a face like the classic faerie, complete with the tiny button nose and enormous, liquid looking eyes. The eyes are her most striking facial feature. They’re a rich, deep, almost cobalt blue color. They’re the most unusual color of blue eyes I’ve ever seen. They dominate her face. When she grows up, they’re still going to be large, and probably even more striking, if that’s possible.

Her soft, fine hair is strawberry blonde, more towards the reddish side. It’s cut in the classic pageboy style, with the ends just brushing her shoulders, and bangs that just touch her slender eyebrows. Her mouth reminds me of Drew Barrymore’s mouth at that age, with full lips shaped like a perfect Cupid’s bow. Her chin is delicate and pointed, and she has a heavy dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Like I said, she’s small, petite and very slender. She still has that boyish figure that all little girls have, but I have no doubt that she’s going to grow into a breathtakingly beautiful young woman one day.

“Aunt Meagan?”

“Yes, Sweetie?” I replied.

“Can you help me find Sara’s phone number?”

I was confused for a moment. She talked to Sarah almost every day on the phone. Then it dawned on me. She meant Sara-with-no-“H” in her name.

“Do you know her last name?” I asked.

“Davidson,” she said, nodding.

“Okay,” I said, “let me get the phone book, and we’ll see what we can find.”

I was curious, but I didn’t say anything.

I went across the hall to my office and grabbed the phone book, as well as the phone. I plopped myself back on the bed with Janelle and opened up the book, looking for that last name of “Davidson.” Thankfully, there were only three listed. Smaller towns have their advantages.

The first try was a wrong number, of course. When she dialed the second number, though, and asked for Sara, she had the right one.

“Is Sara there?” she asked.

“This is Janelle McCarthy, from school,” she said a moment later; then, “Thank you.”

She was silent for a moment, waiting for the other girl to come to the phone. I watched her as she began to speak again.

“Hi Sara! This is Janelle. From school? I ate lunch with you today, remember?”

Another moment of silence.

“Well, I was just calling to see if you wanted to come to my house tomorrow afternoon. It’s my birthday, an’ I’m having a party. And since we had lunch together today an’ you seem pretty cool and stuff, I thought maybe you’d like to come to my party.”

Again, silence as she listened.

“You don’t hafta get me a present,” she said. “I don’t care about that. I just thought maybe you’d like to come and hang out with me for a while.”

There was a longer silence this time.

“You can? Awesome! Okay, it’s at two o’clock at my house, and uhm…” Her eyes rolled up to look at me. “Maybe I better let my aunt talk to your Mom to give her directions? ‘Kay, you get your Mom, and I’ll put my aunt on the phone.”

What an amazing little girl, I thought. I was very, very proud of my niece at that moment.

“Hello?”

The woman sounded slightly hesitant, with a very soft, almost timid voice. I introduced myself, and confirmed that yes, Janelle was indeed having a birthday party tomorrow afternoon, and that she very much wanted Sara to come.

“I… I’m afraid that we wouldn’t be able to get her a gift,” she said, her voice full of apology, and something else that I couldn’t quite put a name to.

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” I said. “Janelle is much more concerned with being a social butterfly than with getting gifts. She just wants Sara to come to the party and hang out with her and her friends for the afternoon.”

Janelle gave me a slap on the leg for calling her a social butterfly, and I grinned at her.

I gave Sara’s mother directions to my sister’s house, and told her we’d see her tomorrow afternoon. I told her to drop Sara off anytime after one o’clock, and that if she wanted, she was welcome to stay, or I could just bring Sara home after the party.

“Thank you, but I won’t be able to stay,” she said. “I’ll have to be at work tomorrow at three, so if you could bring her home, that would be wonderful.”

“No problem,” I told her. “We’ll see you tomorrow then.”

Janelle was tugging on the leg of my jeans, telling me that she wanted to talk to Sara again.

“Janelle wants to speak with Sara again, if that’s okay. It was nice talking to you.”

“Thanks, nice talking to you, too,” she replied quietly.

“Sara? ‘Kay, so you’re coming, right? Awesome!! Oh, and bring a bathing suit or some old shorts and a tee shirt. We don’t have a pool, but my Mom said if it’s warm enough we can turn on the lawn sprinkler and mess around in the water in the back yard, ‘kay? ‘Kay, see you tomorrow! Bye!!”

She pushed the button to turn off the phone and handed it back to me. I looked at her and smiled.

“Janelle, that was a very nice thing you just did,” I said.

She shrugged. “Sarah’s not gonna like it,” she said, “but that’s too bad. I like Sara. Sarah’s just gonna hafta get over it.”

“Well, it was still a very nice thing to do.”

Janelle blushed prettily.

“It’s not a big deal,” she said. “I really do like her.”

“I’m sure you do, Sweetie. I’m just saying that sometimes, it takes real courage to reach out to someone that your friends don’t like. I’m proud of you.”

“Aunt Meagan, stop it!” Janelle squealed. “You’re embarrassing me!”

“Well, if it embarrasses you that I’m proud of you,” I said, “then get used to it. I’m never going to stop being proud of you.”

We spent the rest of the afternoon finishing up with Janelle’s toenails and fingernails, talking and giggling like two little girls. That’s one of the things I love so much about my niece. Sometimes, she makes me feel like I’m a kid again.

My sister, Katherine, came by after work to pick up Janelle. Janelle excitedly told her that there would be another guest at the party tomorrow.

“Another one? Do I know who it is?”

“Nope, you never met her,” Janelle said. “I decided to invite her this afternoon.”

“Sweetie,” I said, “why don’t you get your things together, okay?”

Janelle nodded and ran off to gather up her school books, jacket, purse, and all of the other odds and ends that little girls find indispensable. While she did, I gave Kate a quick rundown about the Sarah/Sara situation, and how Janelle was choosing to handle it.

“Oh, God,” she said. “That Sarah — the one I do know — is a snotty little brat. I really can’t stand that kid, but she’s Janelle’s friend, so I try to put up with her. I can only take her in small doses, though. She really is a supreme little bitch.”

“So I gathered,” I said. “I hope she knows enough to keep her mouth shut and behave tomorrow.”

“Probably not,” Kate sighed. “No worries, though, I can handle her if it comes to that.”

“Good,” I said. “I could handle her, too, but probably not the way that you can. I’ll probably choke her if she gets out of hand.”

Kate laughed. “Now, now. Can’t be beating up on little girls, Meagan,” she said.

“Listen, any nine-year-old girl who calls another little girl a ‘bulldyke’ needs to be throttled,” I said.

“Yeah, I know,” said Kate. “We’ll just play it by ear. Actually, I think Janelle can probably handle it herself, to be honest with you.”

“I have no doubt,” I laughed. “She’s quite the little crusader sometimes. By the way, I’ll be there early to help you with setting things up,” I said. “I’ll be making her cake tonight.”

“She’s going to be so excited that you’re baking her cake,” she said. “I haven’t told her. She thinks I’m going to do my usual cake mix thing for her.”

“You might not be so grateful when you see what I’m doing,” I said, with an evil smile.

Kate raised her hand. “I don’t want to know,” she said. “Just surprise me.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Just don’t get sexual with it, okay? Remember, these are kids, not adults.”

“Oh, please,” I said. “Do you really think I’d do something like that?”

“No,” she grinned, “but I have to give my oversexed lesbian big sister a hard time once in a while.”

“Bitch,” I said, glaring at her.

She snickered. “You’re just too easy to needle, Meagan.”

Janelle came thumping back into the room at that moment, then looked at her mother apologetically. “I didn’t do my homework yet, Mom,” she said. “Me and Aunt Meagan were too busy with my nails. I’ll do it tonight after supper, though, I promise.”

“That’s fine, Baby,” said Kate. “You getting your schoolwork done is not a worry I have. You always do it, and you always do it well.”

“What’re we having for supper?”

“Well, I thought that since tomorrow is going to be very busy, we could start celebrating your birthday with supper tonight, so…” She let the sentence trail off into silence.

Janelle’s huge, cobalt blue eyes lit up. “Pizza? Really?” She squealed out the words.

“Yes, really,” Kate said, laughing. “Pizza. With lots and lots of extra cheese, extra pepperoni, and extra “smushrooms,” just the way you like it.”

“Yessss!!” It was a hiss, and both Kate and I laughed out loud.

“Don’t eat too much, Janelle,” I said, looking her up and down. “Lord knows you can’t afford the extra weight.”

“Huh?” Janelle looked down at her waifish little body, then back up at me. “Cut it out, Aunt Meagan! I’m not fat!”

“No, you certainly aren’t, little one,” I said. “I was being sarcastic. You could stand to put on about ten pounds, actually.”

Kate gave me a look. “You sound like Mom,” she said, smirking at me.

I grimaced. There’s very little love lost between our mother and I. “Don’t even think like that,” I said.

“Too easy, Meagan,” she grinned. “Just too easy.”

I stuck my tongue out at her. Yeah, I’m really mature sometimes. Janelle giggled.

“Okay, we should be going,” said Kate. “Just show up whenever, Meagan, and I’ll put you right to work.”

I followed my sister and my niece to the front door. Janelle made a quick detour into the living room, stopping near the two glass aquariums that hold my pet boa constrictors. Kate gave a grimace of distaste.

“Bye, Ellie, bye, Nellie,” Janelle sang.

The snakes didn’t move. They’d been fed the day before, so they were quite lethargic.

Kate shook her head, but she didn’t say anything. She’d given up making comments about my choice of pets.

“Bye, Aunt Meagan! See you tomorrow!!”

“Bye, Sweetie,” I said. “Try to get a little bit of sleep tonight, okay?”

“I will,” Janelle said.

“Fat chance,” said Kate, smiling.

After they left, I returned to the kitchen, heated up some leftover meatloaf, and made a sandwich for myself. After I’d eaten, I poured a glass of wine, and set to work baking Janelle’s birthday cake.

I have a pretty good sense of design. It’s what I do for a living, after all, and I’d decided to do a special theme for Janelle’s cake. I’m also a pretty good baker, so I was looking forward to doing this for her. The cake would be chocolate, of course, Janelle’s favorite. The motif would probably irk my younger sister, but not nearly as much as the reason I’d chosen it. I grinned suddenly. Kate was going to be pissed off at me, but she’d get over it.

After I’d baked and cooled the cakes, I set about cutting, arranging, and decorating the result. I was pleased. I’d done a pretty good job, actually. Janelle would love it, I knew. Transporting it might be a problem, though. I’d have to find a way to stitch together a box that was long enough and wide enough. I’d figure something out.

By the time I was finished, it was almost midnight, and I was tired. I went upstairs to the bathroom, peeled off my clothes, turned on the shower, and waited for the water to get hot. As I waited, I did a short appraisal of myself in the bathroom mirror.

While I’m beginning to show some signs of the fact that I’m well beyond the wrong side of thirty-five, all things considered, I’m not doing too badly in the looks department. I’m five feet, seven inches tall, and I weigh in at about one-thirty. Not skinny, but not close to being fat, either. I try to work out on a semi-regular basis, and I’ve managed to keep fairly trim looking.

The one thing that I really hate about myself is my hair. My sister Kate has the exact same hair that her daughter does, that luscious, brilliant strawberry blonde that just gleams in the sunlight. I’d ended up with mousy, dirty blonde hair that always looks dull to me. I refused to color it, though. Even professional dye jobs will ruin your hair eventually, and I’d rather have the plain, dull color and keep my hair healthy than ruin it with chemicals. My hair is all one length, falling to the top of my breasts.

Overall, I’m satisfied with my body. I have curves in all the right places, and I have a splendid ass, if I must tell the truth. My breasts are starting to feel the pull of gravity, though. Not too much, not yet, at least. But the sagging is starting to set in. They’re a healthy, 34-C, with bright pink nipples capping the tips. My nipples are rather prominent. They seem to be in a perpetually erect state. While that can be attractive, it can also force me to have to wear a padded bra sometimes, mostly for business purposes. It’s a small sacrifice though, considering that they can be a turn on for some women. Works for me!

I keep my pubic hair trimmed to a proverbial “landing strip” that’s about a half-inch wide, and ends right at the top of the cleft of my labia. I shave there daily, so the skin is as smooth as the day that I was born. The first time that I shaved my pubic hair, I was amazed at how much more sensitive I was to caresses and touches, and I vowed to keep it that way permanently. My almost total lack of pubic hair makes masturbation even more pleasurable than it had been before. And I tend to masturbate a lot.

No, really. I mean, a lot. Like, twice a day at the bare minimum, whether I’m seeing anyone or not. Three times that number on a regular basis. Currently I’m flying solo, so I do spend a good amount of time pleasuring myself. What can I say? I like orgasms…

My legs are passable, slender without being too thin, and not heavily muscled. My pussy is rather girlish looking; by that I mean that my inner labia are small and rather delicate. They don’t protrude into view unless I hold myself open. Otherwise, they’re hidden from sight, much like a young girl. In a sense, it adds a bit of an illusion of youth to my appearance, at least when I’m naked. I rather like that.

Satisfied, I turned to the shower, which was now steaming hot. I got in and reached for the shampoo, washing my hair, then adding conditioner and letting it sit there and soak in while I soaped up my body. I felt the familiar tingling spasm in my belly when I slid my slick hands down over my pussy, and I lingered there for a moment, caressing myself.

Decisions, decisions… Should I masturbate now, or wait until I was comfortably snuggled into bed? Or both? That sounded like a good idea, but I was really tired, and I decided that I’d rather wait until I was in bed, so that I could drift right off to sleep when I was finished. With mild pang of regret, I stopped caressing my pussy, and finished up getting clean.

I rinsed off, rinsed the conditioner out of my hair, turned off the shower, and slid the door open, reaching for a towel. I blotted the excess water from my skin, then wrapped the towel around my head so my hair wouldn’t be dripping down my back. I reached for the jar of body cream on the vanity, and scooped some out, beginning to rub it into my skin. Gotta keep the skin moisturized, you know. Can’t have it drying out on me.

As I massaged the cream into the skin of my breasts, I felt that stab of desire in my pussy again. Jesus, I really was horny! My hands lingered at my breasts, spending far more time than was necessary just to massage in some body cream. I rolled my nipples between my thumbs and forefingers, gasping as I pinched down hard on them. My pussy suddenly felt warmer, damp with a wetness that had nothing to do with the shower that I’d just finished.

Quickly, I finished massaging the body cream into my belly, legs, and ass. When I started to rub it into my pussy, I sagged a little. God, that felt good! I spread my feet a little wider apart, using both hands to massage the cream into my mons. It only took a few seconds for me to be massaging more than just body cream into my skin. My pussy had started to leak, heavily.

I need to get to bed, I thought. Right now…

I pulled the towel from my head, making sure that I dried it enough so that it wouldn’t soak my bedding. I hung the towel on the rack to dry, then quickly padded off to my bedroom. I turned the blankets down, then opened the drawer of my nightstand.

More important decisions… which toy did I want? I have a fairly extensive collection, but I keep my favorites in the nightstand drawer, close at hand. I do try to be prepared for every eventuality.

I settled on a slender purple vibrator with a wired remote control. The wire could be a pain at times, but it has an amazing variety of settings, and it never fails to help bring me to several screaming orgasms. I left the lubricant in the drawer. I was relatively certain that I’d have no need for it. I seldom do, unless deep anal play comes into the activities. If that happened, it would still be close by.

I know, I know. I’m horny and oversexed. A lesbian nymphomaniac, if the truth has to be told. I prefer to think that I just have a very healthy appetite for sex. You should try it. It’s rather fun, and quite rewarding.

I dimmed the bedroom lights, but didn’t turn them off. Unlike some women I’ve known, I’m rather visual when it comes to sexual activities. I like to see as well as touch and taste. I prefer to leave the lights on when I’m playing. Dimming them just makes things look a bit softer, more romantic.

What? Just because I’m flying solo doesn’t mean that I can’t be romantic with myself, does it?

Two walls of my bedroom are floor to ceiling mirrors. That means that pretty much anytime I want to look at what’s going on in my bed, I only have to turn my head slightly to get a couple of different angles on the activity. I’d stopped short of having a mirror installed on the ceiling above the bed, though. It seemed a bit much. I do still toy with the idea now and then. Maybe one day.

I slid onto my bed, my body now tingling all over in anticipation of a soon to be realized orgasm. Or two. Maybe three, even.

I relaxed down into my pillows with one hand behind my head, my hair lying damp on the tops of my breasts. Slowly, lazily almost, I began to trail my free hand lightly down my body, starting at my collarbone and gliding softly over the skin of my breasts, then my belly, my hips, and along one thigh. I felt my skin tighten as goosebumps rose up in response to the touch. Using the tips of my fingernails, I trailed my hand back up along my skin, shivering slightly at the sensation. Almost a tickle, but so much more.

Turning my head to one side, I watched myself as I continued the slow, teasing exploration of my own body with my fingertips. As my nails brushed over my pussy, I felt a wet spot beginning to form on the sheet beneath my ass. I moaned softly, sliding the palm of my hand up along my belly to my left breast. I watched in the mirror as my hand slid up to cup it, still more firm than not, squeezing it gently.

My fingers dug firmly into the flesh of my breast, kneading it, and I moaned again. Bringing my fingertips together slowly, I grasped my left nipple, pinching it hard, then rolling it between my fingers. I pinched down harder and pulled, lifting the weight of my breast up away from my body by the tip of my nipple, and moaned again. My nipples like to be treated roughly.

Still watching myself, I dipped my head downwards, my hand moving under my breast and lifting it towards my face. I opened my mouth, and sucked my nipple in, closing my teeth on it. I stared at myself as I bit down, bringing yet another moan and making my hips writhe on the bed, the wet spot growing larger. I bit harder, the tip of my tongue fluttering over my nipple as I worried at it with my teeth. I felt a sharp spasm in my pussy, and I knew that the first orgasm wouldn’t require the use of any toys.

Panting, I released my nipple from the grip of my mouth. It fell back with a soft slurping sound as my mouth let go. Damn, but I was horny! Of their own volition, both of my hands slid down my body, fingertips pressing down against my mons, sliding down between my legs. I gasped as one finger slid into the cleft, brushing across my clit, already swollen and distended, peeking out from its delicate little hood.

My pussy almost ached with need. I was close already; this was going to happen fast tonight.

I turned my head again as I spread my legs wide, pulling my feet up and dropping my knees sideways so that I was splayed open. I moved my gaze to the wall that faces the foot of the bed, another wall of mirrors. I saw my legs spread almost obscenely wide, my pussy gaping open and glistening with wetness. I put my hands on my knees, and slid them up along my inner thighs. When they reached the top, I brought my left hand up further, settling my first three fingers into the open cleft of my labia, so that the pad of my middle finger rested directly on top of my swollen clit. I moaned again.

The first two fingers of my right hand dipped into my pussy, sliding easily through the wet, slick lubrication there. I gasped, both at the sight and at the sensations, and began to move the fingers of my left hand in a steady circle on my clit. I watched as my hips lifted, bringing my ass up from the bed, meeting my hands and burying the fingers of my right hand deeply into my wet tunnel.

I moaned loudly as I felt the first hard spasm clench my pussy. I was sloppy wet tonight; well, I usually get quite wet anyway, but it was heavy even for me. I could hear the liquid sounds as my fingers began to pummel into my pussy faster and harder. Looking into the mirror, I could see the fluids flowing freely over my hand and down the crack of my ass, soaking the sheet beneath me. I should have brought that towel with me, I thought, then promptly forgot to care about it.

My left hand was moving faster, too, rubbing tight little circles against my sensitive clit, sending wave after wave of pure pleasure through my body. I pressed them down harder, moaning, reveling in the ecstasy that was washing over me in endless, hot waves. I felt the peak beginning to approach, and I groped my way towards it, reaching desperately for the sweet, overwhelming release of orgasm.

I felt it rising from deep inside my pussy, like a hard knot in the pit of my stomach, slowly unwinding itself. My ass clenched tightly as my pussy started to spasm in rhythmic waves, muscles rippling, caressing the fingers that were buried deep within me. The last thing I saw in the mirror before my eyes rolled back in my head was a deep crimson flush spreading over my upper chest and into my neck. I didn’t see anything after that, all I could do was feel…

When it hit me, it was amazing. There’s that old cliche about an orgasm washing over you like waves; this was no wave, it was a fucking tsunami! Dimly, I heard myself moaning, a long, deep growling sound that seemed like it was being ripped from inside of me. My mind lost all coherent thought, I was only aware of blackness peppered with exploding, silvery pinpoints of light behind my eyelids. Talk about fireworks!

It went on and on. My fingers were crammed as far into my pussy as I could force them, almost being crushed by the spasms that ripped through me. The fingers on my clit had slowed, but pressed down with much stronger pressure now; a slow, hard, circular motion against the sensitive, blood-engorged little nub. My body was rigid, arched up off the mattress, shuddering it’s way through this mind-numbing explosion. I only know that I was still breathing because I continued to let out that long, gutteral moaning sound.

It left me slowly, almost reluctantly. I let it do what it wanted; I was incapable of arguing with anything about anything. I didn’t have the energy; even breathing seemed like work at the moment. My breasts were heaving. When I opened my eyes finally, still at the tail end of that orgasm, I glanced in the mirror next to me, and saw that I was still arched up from the bed, body still tense. My chest and neck were deeply flushed. My ass and thighs were quivering from the strain of holding myself up in that position. The sight was erotic as all hell.

Slowly, I let my ass sink back to the mattress. The hand that had been working my swollen clit fell to my side; my right hand stayed where it was, fingers crammed into the wet heat of my pussy. The slick walls were still rippling around them, though the spasms had lightened now, responding to the little aftershocks that coursed through my body, making me twitch and tremble. I rolled my head so that I was looking up at the ceiling and blinked very slowly once, twice, then a third time.

“Holy… fucking… Christ… Almighty…” It came out as a hoarse, ragged whisper.

I was pretty sure that Christ Almighty hadn’t just been fucking me, though that orgasm could have been described as divine. Christian believers will tell you that sex is a gift from God. They might just have something there. Though, most good Christians would probably view my indulging in what they tend to think of as self-abuse with some measure of condemnation. Personally, I prefer to think of it as self-love. Whatever. I was pretty sure, though, that if Christ himself ever did decide to fuck me, even he would have a hard time matching that orgasm. Wouldn’t matter anyway, because I don’t do men. Although if they could make me come like that, I might have to reconsider my position.

Okay, so my mind goes in strange directions when I’m well and freshly fucked. Even when I’m the one doing the fucking. Sue me.

I sighed, and let my eyes slip closed as I slid my fingers from inside my pussy, reluctantly. Automatically, I brought them to my lips, extending my tongue and cleaning the essence of myself from them. I’m not shy about things like that; pussy tastes wonderful, and tasting my own is almost always amazingly erotic. When I had cleaned all traces of my own wetness from them, my hand fell back on the pillow above my head. I was literally spent.

Do I want another one? I wondered silently.

Hell, yes, I did. There’s no such thing as too much sex, and particularly, no such thing as too many orgasms. But that one had exhausted me completely. My body still quivered here and there with aftershocks, but I was completely worn out. My mind felt like I’d just finished drinking a magnum of wine by myself, but without any risk of a hangover. In fact, I was aware that when I woke in the morning, I was going to feel absolutely wonderful.

There would be time enough in the morning to play again. In the morning, I thought. Right now, I just want to float away on this dreamy afterglow and drift off to sleep.

That’s precisely what I did. But for some reason, I found myself with a picture of Janelle’s pretty, smiling face in my mind as I sank into unconsciousness. What the hell? I thought dimly. What are you doing here, Sweetie? It was the last thing I was aware of as I fell into slumber.

Continue on to Chapter 2