By Sammy
We had been sitting in the Starbucks parking lot with the radio on for what felt like hours before either of them made a peep. It was probably no more than a few minutes, but still, nearly a record silence for Lizzie.
“Can we at least get hot chocolate while we’re here, Mommy?” she finally asked.
It wasn’t funny, but I burst out laughing anyway, with Brenda joining in a little uneasily. I glanced in the rear view mirror and saw Lizzie stick out her tongue.
“Sure we can, honey bunch,” I said, putting on my best face and reaching into my purse for my wallet. “Why don’t you run in and get us three. With some cookies.”
“Okay. But when I get back, you’re not gonna be weird. And we’re gonna talk.”
“Honey nut snickerdoodle,” I told her. “With coconut. And it’s a deal.”
“I don’t think that’s a thing. No, that’s not a thing.”
“Well, then I guess we’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?”
Lizzie brandished a doughy fist at me and stomped off, gracefully. (Yeah, I know. How the hell do you stomp off gracefully?)
“So what happened? Really?”
I looked at Brenda, or tried to, my face hot with a mixture of arousal and embarrassment at my behavior at the house. “I saw them.”
“…saw them?”
“Paulette and Felicia. Together.”
“Oh my God… I know you told me a little bit about you guys, but I had no idea…”
“Of course you didn’t, Brenda.” I was surprised at the harshness in my voice, and turned away. Through my window I saw Lizzie getting in line in the coffee shop behind four or five people.
“So what did you see?”
“Something when I was walking up to the door.”
“What?”
“I didn’t know, not exactly. Not until I opened the door and walked in. They were in there, together.”
“In… where?”
“In the living room, in a sleeping bag. Together. Fucking.”
“Fucking?”
“I mean, I assume so. Whatever’s done between legs near the bottom of a sleeping bag.”
“And you just grabbed Lizzie?”
“And now we’re here.”
“Well, maybe it wasn’t what it looked like.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just that. Maybe… there’s more to it.”
“Like what? Maybe she was painting her mom’s toenails?”
“No, no… I’m sorry, Abby.” She reached her hands out and grasped one of mine, bringing us down to bask in the heater panel. “How—” I could sense her swallowing “—are you feeling?”
“I feel… ridiculous, more than anything else. But I had to get out of there. I couldn’t let Lizzie see that. To be introduced to real sex… like that.”
“Why not?” She asked.
I said nothing, and kept my eyes out the window.
“Because… you want to do it yourself? For real?”
The tears started again. “Paulette told me I shouldn’t! That I shouldn’t risk it. That it was unfair to Lizzie. And she and I, we were… helping each other. But then she just abandoned me. To do it herself.”
My shoulders sunk, a long second or two, before Brenda brought a heater-warmed hand to the back of my neck and began stroking. I relaxed into her touch.
“So you mean it’s not what she did, exactly…”
“Yes! This wasn’t how I was supposed to wrestle over this shit. I’m not stupid, or disingenuous by nature. I know what was coming. But I don’t do great with blindsiding under normal conditions…”
Brenda’s hands pulled away, together down to her lap. “I feel so selfish, now, having you run errands for me when you have so much to deal with.”
My instincts clicked, my hands taking hers again. “It is not an errand, Brenda, and I want you to stop with that silliness, okay? You are a very important part of my life.”
There was movement on her face, but it remained cast down.
“Look at me. One of the most important, okay?”
Her grin widened and I felt her fingers move across the back of my hands.
“That’s why you’re going to help me talk to Lizzie. Because there’s no way in hell I’m doing that myself.”
We shared a chuckle as I dried my eyes, turning away sharply to the side mirror when the back door opened and Lizzie climbed in, easily managing the tray in one arm. She leaned forward to place our cups in the holders between the seats, pausing for a moment as if to sense the energy in the car. Finally, she removed two dark brown cookies from a paper bag and handed one to each of us.
“No honey nut snickerdoodle. Coconut or not.” She paused once more. “But I’ll let it slide.”
Lizzie settled back, reached around for her seatbelt, darting her eyes away when it clicked, up to the rear view mirror where I was waiting for them, again, in which I melted when she smiled, again.
As we pulled out of the parking lot, my mind went unavoidably to Paulette as a mother, to what she must be thinking, wondering. She had to know I wouldn’t do anything silly like go to the police, but I couldn’t suffer a conversation with her to allay any fears. Not right now, anyway.
I made a right turn and continued on to Brenda’s house.
. . . . .
For the second time in an hour I found myself sitting in a car with a beautiful girl, staring at the ass of another one as she walked away. A better writer would probably resist the urge to tell you that her seat was offering her quite the déjà view, so it’s a very good thing I’m not one of those.
“I hope she’s okay, Mom,” said Lizzie. “I still think we should have gone in there. At least one of us.”
“I think she’ll be fine, sweetie. You know how strong she is.”
“It sucks that everyone can’t have a mom like you. Then the world would be a really great place.”
What an angel. “Sometimes not even good moms are enough, baby.”
“Hmph. If you say so…”
I saw my daughter’s eyes veer over my shoulder, and I turned my head to see a young girl, seven years old or so, latching Brenda’s backyard gate closed and walking down the driveway toward us. I’d never seen her before, but she was striking — thin, long, long legs for age, but adorable chub in the cheeks and an even cuter mess of brown hair. Lizzie rolled her window down and waved as the girl approached.
“Hi, Claire!”
“Hi, Lizzie,” the girl replied, less than enthusiastically. She didn’t speak for a few seconds once she reached the car, looking down shyly at a red envelope she held in both hands. “Is this your mom?”
“Yeah! Oh, sorry. Claire, this is my mom. Mom, this is Claire. Brenda’s sister.”
“Oh. Wow. Okay,” I eked out, mortified listening to the words leave my mouth. “It — it’s nice to meet you, Claire. You can call me Abby.”
“Are you guys who Brenna’s goin’ with?”
“Um, yes, sweetie. She’s going to stay with us for a bit.”
“I’m gonna miss her. I don’t ever see her pretty much at all. Now I probably never will.”
“Well, as long as it’s okay with your parents, you can come over to our house and visit whenever you like.”
“I… don’t think that’ll be okay.” She looked down again at the envelope. “But can you please give this to Brenda? My mom asked me to, but she’s fighting with Steve.”
“Your mom is?”
“No, Brenda. My mom isn’t home, but she told me before she left to get this to Brenda without Steve seeing it. So here.” Lizzie reached out the window and took the envelope from the girl’s hand, which was trembling faintly.
“Don’t worry, Claire,” Lizzie told her. “We will.”
“Thank you very much.”
Suddenly, her head jerked and she started around the front of the car. “Okay, my daddy’s here, bye!” she called as she ran toward a blue sedan that had pulled up in front on our left. “Tell Brenny… I love her. A lot. And thanks, thanks again.” And she was gone.
“I… didn’t know Brenda had a sister,” I said to Lizzie.
“Yeah, but with a different daddy. I only knew about her ’cause she was with Brenda’s mom once when she picked her up from the arena. She’s nice, and she’s really interested in skating too. But Brenda made me promise not to tell you or anyone ’cause… well, I don’t really know why, but her mom didn’t have her with Brenda’s dad, so something about that, I guess.” She looked up at me. “Are you mad I didn’t tell you?”
“No, of course not. I’m proud you kept your promise to Brenda. It means a lot to me that you did. For reasons you’re smart enough to figure out. But…” I started, taking her hand, “there is a secret, another Brenda secret, that I do need to talk to you about. You know that, right?”
“Yeah, Momma. I know.”
“And I have a Brenda secret that I need to share with you.” She looked at me, eyes widened slightly. I nodded.
“I’ve thought about that… so much.”
I decided not to hold back. “That makes me feel really good, sweetie. Inside, and down below.” Her smile told me I’d decided right. “How about we get Brenda settled, and then we’ll have a talk. About everything.” She looked at me expectantly. “Yes, Paulette, Felicia, everything.”
She threw her arms around my neck and kissed the side of my mouth, slowly dragging her lips across my cheek until she was right beside my ear. “I wanna kiss you like, well, you know, Momma. But I know it’s not a good idea right now.”
“No, not a good idea at all…” I managed, already dripping wet. “I’m glad you’re such a thoughtful little girl. But Christ,” I added, lazily slapping my forehead and closing my eyes. “You gotta cut it out sometimes.”
We laughed, mingled for a few moments in each others’ eyes, and settled for a peck that nearly had me coming in my seat anyway.
“But first,” I said, composing myself, “I have a surprise to show my two girls.”
“A surprise?”
“Yes, something I think you’ll both enjoy very much.”
After Brenda got in the car with her bags, looking a little stressed but still chipper, I handed her the envelope. I told her who it was from, and how, but I didn’t pry. She thanked me and said nothing more.
I checked my phone. One missed call from Paulette, no voicemail. I turned it off as we pulled away. I didn’t want any interruptions.
. . . . .
It must not have looked like much to them as we pulled up, the large house nondescript save the bright purple shutters, but inside was the product of probably more work than anything I’d done in years, let alone in collaboration with someone else. I’d struggled to keep it secret, and whether to keep it secret. Walking up the cobblestones, Lizzie took both my and Brenda’s hands, and as we stepped inside, and they both got a good look, I felt a squeeze for the ages.
“What is all this, Momma?”
“Well, this is your grandmother, Lizzie,” I said.
Both girls stood for a moment, taking in the careful arrangement of photographs, articles, and notices; racks of all manner of skate gear and outfits spanning her career; and cases of trophies, certificates, and brightly colored ribbons of red, blue, gold, and one, a little left of center in the second rack, in pink.
“This is amazing, Abby.”
“I’m glad you think so, Brenda,” I told her, running my fingers up and down her arm.
Lizzie picked up a folder of photos and clippings from a LIFE shoot, done soon after my mother’s first gold medal, her incredible body spread across the pages in outfits more and more provocative. I watched as Lizzie’s eyes focused on a parody of the famous Coppertone ad, which featured the tip of my mother’s bottom peeking out as a baby polar bear tugged down her tights.
“How did you do all of this?” she asked.
“Well, you know there’s no real Hall of Fame for Canadian figure skating open to the public, and rather than donate her stuff to some limited selection only viewable by appointment, I thought I’d set something up here. So I got in touch with a very nice man at Skate Canada, who put me in touch with an archivist at CBC, and she helped me track down what I didn’t already have. And even helped with a grant for the lease on this place.”
“But where was all the stuff you did have, Mom? I don’t think I’ve seen more than a few of these things before.”
“In storage. I thought maybe showing them, like this, would make up for keeping them hidden away for so long. I’m sorry I did that, Lizzie.”
“I don’t care,” she said, enveloping me in a wide, warm hug. “Thank you, Momma. This is wonderful. More wonderful than I could have imagined.”
I squeezed back, inhaling her scent. Brenda joined in, wrapping her arms around us and kiss-kiss-kissing the side of my head. “Yes, Abby, thank you, thank you.”
“There’s something more, girls.”
I led them into an adjacent alcove, designated with a hand-painted sign that read Pat on the Podium.
“I know you’ve asked about these,” I said to Lizzie, pulling the Olympic medals, two golds and a silver, out of a mahogany case. “And I know I said they had been stolen. Which is what my mother told me. But the CBC archivist was able to help me track them down — because they were in her building!”
She looked at me, puzzled. “How, Mom?”
“Your grandmother just dropped them off anonymously in the lobby one day. with some other stuff. In a cardboard box. Apparently, it’s kind of a legendary story over there. Up there with Glenn Gould going gaga when Barbra Streisand stopped by.”
I doubt their attention survived my trivia droning, rapt as they were examining the medals, Lizzie with the first gold, and Brenda with the second and silver.
“Amazing…” she whispered.
I looked at the sight before me, the sight of their sight, in awe and curiosity and love, undoubtedly, and placed my hands around the hips of each beautiful girl, breathing in, feeling full.
“Amazing’s right.”
. . . . .
After the girls had examined and inquired about every piece of our little museum, and I got their valuable input about how to finish the set-up ahead of the opening, Lizzie wanted to show off the cooking skills she’d developed at Ellen’s. She made a lovely chicken parmesan — quite impressive for a girl of ten — which we enjoyed leisurely by candlelight, talking only a little, sharing our mutual anticipation for what we knew was to come.
My own glass of wine at dinner weakened my resolve enough to allow Brenda a glass afterwards, though not enough for more than a sip to Lizzie, who didn’t take to it anyway.
We were relaxing in front of the fire, a collection of Satie recordings on the stereo. Brenda was elbow-on-knee, reading a book of poems whose author I didn’t know, and I was running my fingers up and down my daughter’s arm as we lay together, her back to me. Lizzie’s eyes were closed, but I knew she wasn’t asleep. I love watching her in such moments: her vitality and vividness of presence diminish by none, merely adapt. There wouldn’t be a better opportunity, I thought to myself.
“Felicia…” I saw her stir “…and Paulette.”
Lizzie’s lip trembled, and I could tell she was struggling to stay cool. I knew Brenda was listening too.
“I saw them, together, when I went to pick you up. You know what I mean, right?”
“Uh-huh.” She was looking at me now. “Having sex.”
“That’s right.”
“Why were you so mad? I mean, you and me, we…” She struggled to find the words.
Brenda was respectfully silent and her eyes remained on the book, but I could see her sneaking glances.
“It’s hard to explain, sweetie. Some if is stuff between me and Paulette that we don’t need to get into.”
“But you already did stuff with Paulette, right?”
“That’s right. We’ve had sex.”
“And since we, well, might, you know…” She blushed. “I’m just confused.”
I struggled to answer her. “It was without my consent, or knowledge, Lizzie. It was too much, and the wrong way. Because,” I cupped her face, “make no mistake, Lizzie. I want to have sex with you. I want to be your first. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything.”
My daughter let out a whimper, barely audible, as she licked her lips.
“And I know,” I said, turning to Brenda, “someone else does, too.” Lizzie joined my eyeline, and both of them blushed. “Isn’t that right?”
“Yes,” Brenda allowed, looking a little shocked at my words. But she didn’t blanch. “Hell, yes. For years. Gosh.” She finished off her wine and placed the empty glass on the coffee table.
“Me, too, Brenny,” Lizzie whispered excitedly, turning back to me. “And you, Mommy. Ever since that kiss, I think, after we watched the video of Gramma. That’s still about the best night I can remember having. I love you so much. I want us to be together in that way, and every way.”
“Oh, Lizzie,” and my lips were on hers.
God, I missed her like this — I’d had no idea how much. I managed to restrain myself from complete devouring but crept toward it with delight, humming dreamily when my daughter’s tongue became the first to introduce itself, sucked and chewed as I felt her hand on my breast and an exquisite sensation on the back of my neck, soon, I realized, the product of Brenda’s lips, leaving streaks of saliva I could feel the air nibbling on.
“I’ve wanted you,” she said, “for just as long as I’ve wanted Lizzie, Abby. But you already know that.”
I murmured in assent, unable to leave Lizzie, who, remarkably, had worked my blouse open during our necking. Such a sweet little sex-fiend I had raised! And with such exquisite little tits! Which, I will say, haven’t grown much from the early peaks they were at that moment when I pulled her top over her head and marveled at them, nipples like dollops of strawberry cream. I bent my mouth down and took one in, chewing in response to her anxious squeals of “Mommy!”
Brenda had removed my blouse and was doing the same to my black bra, peeling the lace cups away and tweaking my nipples, which strained toward her touch. “So fucking beautiful. Goddammit. My dream.”
“I saw her first!” Lizzie chirped, winking as she took her turn on my nipples, my mind drifting back to memories of her nursing, exposing the reels to a transformative new light.
“Mmm, so nice, Lizzie. I love how you make me feel.”
“I’m so wet right now…” Brenda whispered hoarsely, nibbling my ear lobe in the same breath.
“Lemme feel,” I urged, thrusting my hand in the general direction of her lap. From touch I knew she had discarded everything but her panties, and likewise wasted no time getting my searching fingers to her sopping wet pubic hair. “Such a hot little cunny,” I wheezed out, stroking and poking.
“So hot for you, Abby.” Brenda set to tweaking my nipples, whichever one Lizzie wasn’t attached to at the time, switching back and forth.
“That feels heavenly, Brenda,” I moaned. “But may I see your tits?”
She laughed. “Sure, when you ask so sweetly and all…” Her black tee with the band emblem was added to the growing clothes pile behind us, and then there they were, small but perfect, like Lizzie’s but nurtured naturally and with care.
“You’re lovely. Perfect.”
Brenda gave me a goofy grin. “I don’t think they’d mind if you showed ’em your appreciation.”
“They do look awful welcoming.”
“I wanna see more of your daughter while you do, though.”
“I think I do, too.”
“I’m here, you know!” Lizzie harrumphed. “That seems like a habit with you guys.” We all giggled.
“Shut up and let her undress you.” I smiled, as I nodded to Brenda, “Get to it, hussy.”
“Old lady slang aside,” Brenda said, “you sure know how to make ’em, Abby. And raise ’em.”
Lizzie looked down with expectation and maybe a little pride as Brenda stroked up and down her tights, clearly luxuriating. Their eyes met. “You are fucking beautiful, girl.”
The spandex was soon gone, Lizzie’s panties either wrapped up inside them or forgone entirely. The disappointment at not getting to remove them myself, or at least see her in them, was entirely mitigated by the sight of her pussy, even more radiant than Brenda had described it, deep pink spreading in a perfect fade to the paleness of the surrounding skin and, on the uppermost portion, a set of fine golden ridges twining into a soft patch above.
Lizzie’s clit was already well-developed, peeking out adorably, and I found myself unable to resist. I started with a kiss, which she met with a giggle, which I answered with slurp. I could see her grip tighten on Brenda, whose breasts she had been lazily pawing. I focused on my daughter’s cunt, exploring with both a lover’s lust and the deep affection of a mother; I’d never felt either so intensely before. I reveled in her golden fleece, flicking my tongue across its tips — when I had an image of some mythological hero coming to steal it all away from me, and felt suddenly possessive. Not so much that I’d never share Lizzie with anyone, clearly. On the contrary, I felt compelled to show her off.
I felt Lizzie’s legs tense and I looked up, thinking I’d made her come, feeling her grip strain and tighten again. But my eyes moved further and I saw hers, drawing toward the doorway.
It wasn’t Jason and the Argonauts there, but Paulette, grin creeping up, with an awestruck Felicia by her side.
I hastily wiped a gob of girl-cum from the side of my mouth.
“I, uh, tried calling, Abby,” Paulette said, “but your phone’s been off for hours.” She motioned to Felicia. “We came by to… talk.”
I was too stunned to speak.
Felicia didn’t have the same problem. She and Lizzie shrieked each other’s names at once. “You look so… so beautiful, Lizzie! They are playing, Mommy, they are!”
Paulette stroked the back of her daughter’s head in response. “I saw Brenda from outside,” she said, gesturing to the beautiful demurring girl, “really, really focused on something a little lower.” Paulette smiled and looked down expectantly. “Something pretty interesting, from the looks of it.”
“And, and, so—” I felt myself getting flustered, unable to form words, or even to complete my thoughts. “You thought you’d j-just —”
“Walk in and have a look?”
So flustered she’d beat me clean to the irony, which her shit-eating grin revealed she knew very well. Paulette also knew just how irresistible I found that grin.
Lizzie disentangled herself from my still-tensing limbs, stood up, and, without a word or a hint of self-consciousness, walked over, in all her natural perfection, to her very best friend in the whole wide world and kissed her on the cheek.
“I love you, Felicia,” she said. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me too, Lizzie.” Felicia kissed her back, on the lips. “Both things.”
And at once all the day’s events, maybe more, maybe every one of its hours and minutes and seconds seemed to press upon me with great weight until the dam burst and it came cascading down, cleansing and renewing, until I realized with finality that I had pretense to nothing at all but pleasure.
“I’m really trying to come up with something clever, Ab,” said Paulette as she stared at the girls. “But all I got is your daughter’s cunt looks delicious.”
Lizzie and Felicia grew quiet.
“Uh, yeah, I’m kind of in disbelief myself…” I said, slightly dazed.
“So much different than in the locker room, isn’t it?”
“Oh, yes,” I replied, a little more confidently. Paulette eyed me as I took in Felicia’s bottom half, in tight white track pants. “There’s quite a bit from the locker rooms I wouldn’t mind seeing in another light…”
Our eyes met, and I knew we had the same thought.
“Would I be presumptuous in assuming you all might be up for some… comparative appreciation?”
At once, both Lizzie and Felicia blurted out: “We’re right here, you know!”
The three adults — or close enough — laughed at the pouts, which Felicia answered with a stomp of her boot as she began to disrobe. “If you wanna see my cunny, just say so, Abby!”
“Oh, precious, I want to see your cunny, and so, so much more…”
“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you, Brenda,” Paulette mused, biting her lip and glaring hungrily at the nude high-schooler. “I think my tits were exactly like yours at that age. I wish they’d stayed there, to be honest.”
Brenda smiled. “Comparison seems to be a theme tonight…”
She made her way with purpose to Paulette, starting to undress the older woman under a flurry of soft introductory kisses. Lizzie took the cue from her coach and started doing the same to Felicia, and it was now my turn for wonder at the dual disrobings taking place in my foyer. After Lizzie had finished helping her friend out of her clothes, she kissed her deeply on the mouth, pulling away to whisper, loud enough for me to hear, one more “I love you, Felly.” I began to usher us all to my bedroom, silently grateful that I’d decided not to replace my old ratty king-size mattress with something smaller.
When my foot reached the bottom stair, I looked back at Paulette, who was tucking her and her daughter’s boots into the front closet.
“…and lock the goddamn door!”
. . . . .
In all honesty, I can’t recall with much precision the sequence of the next four hours or so. I remember everything vividly, but almost as a single instance, temporally free, if you follow me.
Brenda finally getting at Lizzie’s butthole, tonguing deep inside that obscure object of desire, propped up on a pillow, me holding her legs as wide as I could, Paulette spreading her tense cheeks obscenely, Felicia sitting fat and happy astride her face, humming at the tongue-lashing received from the girl she was realizing was the love of her life; they were each other’s, that was undeniable, in way that neither Paulette nor I could encroach upon, though we knew we were loves of their lives, and each other’s, too, distinct but blissfully overlapping. In many ways, Brenda felt like the nucleus, giving and taking from each in turn, her excessive bathing in my daughter’s backchannels clearly an act of both. Lizzie loved having her asshole eaten, and we each took a turn, swapping roles with ease as my daughter lay throbbing, infectious energy urging us further still down our dark, delightful pathway.
The four of us feasted on all Lizzie’s little bits as we fed in turn on our own ecstasies, and each other’s, looking back and forth, between the eager responses of the body below and the possessed endless glee we all took in manipulating it, in the twitches and pulses. One raw nerve.
I remember Brenda, Lizzie, and I stopping after a fresh round of orgasms to watch Paulette make love to her daughter, slowly, with great curiosity and playfulness, over the course of what must have been an hour or more. There is one moment or sequence in particular: Felicia, Paulette having pulled her into a beautiful sixty-nine, greedily collecting her mother’s fluids on her fingers, first as a treat to her lips, then as lubricant as she worked one digit, then two, into Momma’s asshole. Paulette had waxed most of her nether-regions since she last time we were together, keeping a neat bush, and her whole slick was greased. She urged Felicia into her ass, taking long tastes of the girl’s own, trading with raw though purposeful trips through her vagina, lips sketched with faint hair of a deep black nevertheless. I couldn’t wait to see how her cunt developed.
“I love you, Mommy,” Felicia wailed, “I love you!”
“So much, baby, love you so much…” her mother moaned back. “Love you all…”
As expert as Paulette was at eating pussy, her daughter probably gave me the biggest orgasm that night — though she didn’t do it alone and it had a little something to do with my looking over as Felicia was starting, and seeing Brenda doing the same to my daughter.
Brenda seemed to start out nervously, trying to find the right rhythm, sweat dripping from her face onto Lizzie’s crotch, who, meanwhile, was enjoying things just fine. I was about to ask Felicia to stop so I could reach over and reassure the older girl… but just then Brenda looked up, taking in Lizzie’s obvious pleasure, and appeared to relax into it. “I’ve wanted to do this since the first second I saw you,” she whispered to Lizzie. “I’m so happy.”
“M-me too, Brenny,” Lizzie got out, almost too aroused to speak. “You’re making me feel so good! Almost… almost as good as Mommy!” She noticed my attention and looked back at me, embarrassed. “Almost!”
I laughed, clasping her hand tightly, then felt a sudden surge of activity at my own opening, fingers joining fingers. I looked down and saw that Paulette had crawled up from her daughter’s ass and was whispering in her ear, trying attentively to demonstrate some kind of hand position for Felicia at the same time.
Oh, God. She was teaching her daughter to fist me.
I squeezed Lizzie’s hand and let my head fall, our moans joining each other’s as Brenda continued to eat her out.
“That’s it, sweets,” Paulette cooed as Felicia’s hand began to curl inside my cunt, which her mother was augmenting with a zealous stroking of my clit. “Get your whole hand in there, right up your Aunt Abby’s cunt…”
Our eyes met on ‘Aunt Abby’, something Felicia had never called me but which nearly had me coming on the spot. I wrapped my legs around most of both of them, humping up as the ten-year-old’s fist went sliding down, helped along by her mother’s patient and adoring hands. Finally, she was all the way in, with both Brenda and Lizzie watching, astonished, as this little girl pumped her forearm in and out of me.
“Lizzie,” Paulette said, “why don’t you come and lick around your Mommy’s pussy while Felicia fists her?”
Lizzie giggled. “Felicia fists, Felicia fists, Felicia fists five fingers,” she sputtered out. “That’s a good tongue twister!”
Paulette and I shared another took. “Too easy,” she said.
My daughter made her way over to my crotch. As soon as that little pink bit left her lips and touched mine down below, I exploded, unimaginable pleasure coursing through every part of my body, and I passed out.
I awoke a little later to find Paulette’s face buried in my snatch, while Brenda nursed greedily from my nipples, going from breast to breast. In between licks she’d move her mouth over to the twenty ten-year-old toes between us, where Lizzie’s and Felicia’s bodies stretched down the bed, pressed tightly to each other, hands roving, tiny lips smooching, faces barely visible. I struggled to hear what they were whispering to each other so urgently, collecting tender pieces, warm refrains of “love you”—”missed you”.
The girls soon fell asleep, I came, for what must have been the tenth time, and then Brenda brought her lips up to my cheek.
“This really happened,” she said, yawning. “Didn’t it, Abby?”
“It’s happened, love,” I told her. “Really.”
“Rilly, rilly…”
She, too, was soon dozing atop my breast, uneven layers of cum caked to her cheeks like pastry frosting. I gave her a long, slow lick, chancing that a nibble at the side of her mouth wouldn’t wake her. There was a giggle across the bed and I turned to see Paulette where she had crawled to, grinning evilly and chewing the edge of my off-white comforter. I considered another go at her cunt, starting toward her on my knees in mock-prowl mode, but realized immediately I didn’t have the energy. Her laugh let me know she didn’t either, and she beckoned me into her arms.
“Things… really got away from us today, didn’t they?” she said.
“You could say that.”
“I’m so sorry, Abby, really. For lying to you. I just couldn’t say. I don’t know why. I was so happy and so ashamed at the same time… but what happened shouldn’t have happened like it did.”
“Well, I don’t know what happened, Paulette. Or how.”
“We were there last night, watching a movie, and Lizzie fell asleep…”
“No, how did it all start?”
“Just… let me get through this part, okay? I think it’ll be better.”
I nodded.
“The kids were in their sleeping bags watching the movie, and I was down there next to them, sitting on the floor wearing a robe. After Lizzie fell asleep, Felicia told me how pretty she thought Lizzie was. I agreed. Then she said that really turned her on, that I thought Lizzie was pretty. Then… she asked if Lizzie could play with us.”
“…play?”
“Play. That’s what we call it. I told her no. I said that was a decision you and Lizzie needed to make together. She was annoyed, but she agreed.”
“Okay…”
“She wanted us to play, though, so I started to urge her upstairs. But she stopped me. She said she didn’t want to go upstairs. She said if we couldn’t play with Lizzie, then we were going to play right next to Lizzie. And then her hands went to my breasts. I told her no, again, so she said she was going to go play with Lizzie herself.”
Paulette’s tone grew more serious. “I didn’t know what to do, Ab. I didn’t even know if she really meant it. She probably wouldn’t have done anything, or I know it wouldn’t have mattered even if she had. I — I just knew I didn’t want to risk it.”
“Go on.”
“So, uh, I gave in. I got in my daughter’s sleeping bag with her, and we played. She and I played for a long time, and… I think Lizzie might have woken up at some point and seen us, but I can’t say for sure. And when we finally finished playing, I stayed with her. I slept in the sleeping bag with Felicia.”
“Okay. And?”
She swallowed. “And… and then this morning, after we woke up together it just sort of started again, all by itself, and that’s… when you came in.”
She was almost in tears, and my heart ached for her. It was obvious I had no idea just how many shades and degrees there would be to fucking your pre-teen daughter. And as soon as that thought crossed my mind, I was dripping again.
“I don’t believe you, Paulette.”
“Y-you don’t?”
I smiled at her. “I don’t think that was it at all. I think you had that beautiful thing over there,” I said, pointing to Felicia, “all hot ‘n bothered, with that other little thing just a few feet away, and I think… I think you had a couple of hot little pussies right in front of you, and you just couldn’t keep your hands clean.”
We had been here often enough. Paulette knew what I was doing. “Well, you saw just how fun it was getting them dirty, when you walked in.”
“Not true,” I reminded her with a smile. “I didn’t see much of anything, in fact. Just Felicia’s feet sticking out of that sleeping bag like the Wicked Witch.”
“I’m pretty sure you bought her those striped knee-socks.”
“Ha-ha. Go on.”
“Where was I again?”
“I think we were getting to the original how, and the when.”
She nestled in closer to me, and began to play with my nipple. “It was right around the time Lizzie went to camp. Or a few days after. I had just said goodnight to Felicia when I heard her crying from the hallway. I went inside, to her, to the bed. Asked what was wrong. She said she missed Lizzie. Tons. She loved her, said she was in love with her.”
“Lizzie told me the same thing.” We shared another silent look at their sleeping bodies, still together.
“She started talking about how beautiful she thought Lizzie was, how much she liked being with her in the changing rooms…”—I could picture them then, mother stroking her daughter’s hair—”…comparing their breasts…”—Felicia’s hands creeping up her little girl’s chest—”…standing next to each other naked in the mirror, tugging on their barely-there-pubic hair…”—there, grabbing it in the bed, feeling it, fingers creeping down—”…Felicia telling Lizzie she couldn’t even see hers, so blonde was it, just an excuse to get nice and close…lean in…and…” Paulette slipped a digit in between my lips “…and take a lick.”
And I came, again, for the last time that night, blindly, half-consciously reaching my hand to Paulette’s cunt, for at least some symbolic reciprocity for the pleasure she had given me.
Sated, exhausted, with barely enough energy to blink, my mind nevertheless managed to crawl to a poem I’d read in college when I felt myself sinking into the tangle of torsos and limbs I’d welcomed into my bed, spying the spindly branches outside the window, cool arms murmurously about me lay/While myriad snowy hands are clustering at the panes…
And it was dark.
. . . . .
Now, light on, many lights, high and low, cheering and cheering, music maybe but hard to hear, definitely something in the small of my back, a hand, Felicia’s, which I reach and grasp and pull through the crowd, surging even in the winner’s circle as we eagerly seek its new queen.
She’s moving slowly towards us, a sprite gold-bedecked amongst trees of tweed and down and leather whose congratulations she accepts with polite haste. Thanks, yes, later, she tells the reporters; write me, to the fans, I’ll answer personally.
I look over and see Brenda hand-in-hand with her mother, who is wearing Felicia’s medal, uncannily like the color of her lustrous metallic hair. She sees me and smiles, turning to the younger woman and kissing her close to the lips, quite close, close enough for suspicions to arise in, perhaps, only those who know what they’re looking for. Like me.
Oh. But I guess you don’t know what you’re looking for. Not exactly. Not yet. You don’t know about Brenda and her mother, or her sister, or that red envelope. It really is a lovely story. But it’s not mine to tell.
Brenda should be along shortly, to do that all by herself.