By Sammy
“I was so close, Paulette. Right then. To just up and taking her.”
We were sitting in my kitchen, polishing off the remains of a wine lunch.
“I know how much you must’ve wanted to, Ab. And it sounds like Lizzie did too. At least as far as she was able to understand. But… I think I’m glad that you didn’t.”
“Yeah?”
“I mean, that’s about the hottest thing I can possibly picture, which I — which we’ve — pictured about a billion times.” She cast her eyes downward. “But maybe that’s how it should stay. Pictures. Besides, won’t someone a little more… age-appropriate be coming back, too? She’ll be sixteen by then, so, consent…”
“Don’t think I’ve forgotten. Ever since she told me about the breakup, my mind’s been running wild with what might happen. And don’t make me regret I told you! If her parents ever found out…”
“They still don’t know about little what’s-her-face? The one she dated? Or even that she’s…”
“No. They wouldn’t boot her or anything if she came out to them, she says, but with everything she’s doing for Lizzie and then her own skating, she doesn’t want any distractions.”
“That makes sense.” She paused. “I have to say I’m getting pretty hot thinking about you guys necking in the car like that, right in front of her parents’ house…”
“She was so excited… all breathy and jumpy.”
“Mmm. She’s like a little bunny rabbit. I bet she kicks real nice when you get hold of her.”
“I’d love for us both to get a hold of her. Carry her off someplace…”
“What would you do with her? What would we… do with her? Really?”
I didn’t know, really, but for these purposes… “Everything. Start by stripping her down. Probably one of those thin little sweaters.”
“It’d almost be a shame… I just love how her little tits look in ’em.”
“Mmm.” I placed my hand on her thigh. “Nipples that best almost all her bras.”
She took a breath and closed her eyes. “I’d love to continue this, Abby, but I-I’ve gotta grab Fel.”
“Uhm, yeah, of course.”
“I’ll call you.”
And she was out the door with a peck, which turned out to be our last intimate moment for a while. We were both pretty busy at work, but in the holes of our schedules where we used to find time to get together, to fuck or for any conversation more demanding than coffee, she always seemed to find an excuse. I didn’t have the nerve to ask if she was seeing someone else, nor was I able to glean any hints from my errant little eavesdropper.
And it was Lizzie, of course, who filled Brenda’s absence, though in the deeply diminished form of computer conversations. Luckily, I was spared the indignity of asking that we Skype rather than phone — it turns out my daughter wanted to see my face even more than I wanted to see hers, and insisted herself. It wouldn’t be overstating it to say I lived for the moment when her perfect elfin face would fill my screen with a bright “Hi, Mommy!”
Lizzie and I didn’t talk about the kiss right before she left, at least in so many words, or what was going to happen when she got home, but the energy between us was undeniably changed, and charged. Whatever detail the subpar image on the computer screen left out, I made up for myself, a mental montage of the constant picture show she commanded inside my head, in all manner of (un)dress, itself substantially aided by the hours and hours of skate footage I had compiled and would have used to get off right before getting on the laptop. Or maybe not, not all the way. Maybe I’d stop short…trail my sticky fingers across the trackpad, answer the Skype call while the other hand waits in my shorts and tweaks my clit, hard, the second I hear my daughter’s voice, keeps on it, slow and steady, sliding one, then two, then three fingers into my cunt dribbling pools below the dining room table and collapsing into the large oak chair below me, having painstakingly waited until the voice had said, “Bye, Mommy!” before I closed the computer crying “Lizzie!” and came and came.
Maybe. Maybe I’d do that.
. . . . .
“Hi, Abby!” Brenda grinned.
“Hey yourself. How are things up there?”
“Great. Really great!” She looked stricken for a moment. “Do you — do you wanna talk to Lizzie? She’s just in the kitchen with Aunt —”
“It’s fine, Brenda,” I smiled. “I’m talking to you now, sweetheart.”
She smiled back, shyly. The screen resolution wasn’t low enough to hide her quickly-reddening cheeks. “Well, we just finished the morning skate.”
“And how did that go?”
“Great!”
“Not… really great?”
“Don’t make fun,” she mock-pouted.
“Oh, don’t tell me you can’t take it. A big girl like you. A big teacher like you.”
“Yeah, that’s me… tee.” She giggled. She actually said ‘tee.’ “I’m really excited with how the new program’s coming. Lizzie’s wonderful doing it.”
“She’s told me how much she adores what you’ve come up with, and how excited she is to perform it for the first time.”
“Honestly, it’s as much hers as it is mine, I mean, she—” She seemed to catch herself. “Thank you, Abby. That means a lot to me. And… I really wanted to tell you something I should have before we left. Which is how incredibly grateful I am to have a skater as good as Lizzie to try out routines on.”
“She is quite the little guinea pig, isn’t she? Just ready for anything.”
Brenda’s eyes went wide, then down, then she kind of snorted. “You’re telling me.”
“What do you mean, dear?”
“Oh, uh, y’know… just the difficult jumps.” That blush again. And another giggle.
“Mmm. I’m sure. Any I haven’t seen?”
“Well, the—”
“Is that Abby, Bren?” Called an older voice somewhere off-screen.
“Yeah!” Brenda answered.
“Your daughter’s so good my entire life feels like a lie.” The pretty face of Brenda’s Aunt Ellen popped sideways into frame. “I mean, just so you know.”
I smirked. “She seems to have that effect on a lot of people.”
Ellen’s eyes darted around the perimeter of the screen. “So, I can’t talk on these things for more than eight seconds or so. They bug me out. All of them. But I’d love if we could get together the next time I’m in town.”
“I’d love that, Ellen.”
“And we love having Lizzie here. She’s in fine, caring hands. I taught this little weirdo everything I know.” She petted Brenda’s head.
“Yeah, and you’re teaching it to Lizzie, too!”
“Hey, no, kid, she’s all yours. I just step in for a pointer and two.”
Brenda rolled her eyes. “No, you just give her a bunch of complicated things to do ’cause you wanna watch her do ’em.”
“Even if that were true, can you blame me? We haven’t had a real contender here for years and she’s better than her grandma!”
“Don’t let Lizzie frickin’ hear that, Aunt Ellen.”
“Don’t worry, she’s keeping my fajitas sizzling. We could set a bomb off.”
Brenda laughed. “No, that’s after your fajitas.”
“Hmph. Well, Abby, I’m gonna tend to your lovely daughter and leave you to this sarcastic little bitch.”
“You love me.”
“Yeah, but I love lotsa unsavory things. That’s no accomplishment.”
“Just go cook your stinky burritos.”
“Fajitas,” Ellen called out, returning to the kitchen. “And just for that, you’re getting Cheerios!”
Brenda laughed and turned back to me.
“So am I to conclude my little chef isn’t up for speaking to Mommy right now?”
“She said she’d call you later. She’s really gotten into cooking.”
As much as I wanted to stay on and probe Brenda, especially about my daughter following orders, and as disappointed as I was that Lizzie wasn’t dying to talk to me, I said goodbye and left myself to sift through some uncomfortable thoughts. Of course I wouldn’t be upset if Brenda had sexual feelings for Lizzie — I think I’d come to accept that every female in a five-mile radius was itching to get into her tights. But I didn’t know how I would feel if I found that she and my daughter actually did… what? Yes, what exactly would they be doing? What… could they be doing? Had Brenda gained enough experience in her youthful experiments to rock Lizzie’s world, or would it be closer to something between inexpert equals? I couldn’t help but picture Lizzie’s blonde mop bobbing up and down as she ate eagerly into Brenda’s furry little cunt, the older girl’s hands pulling my baby’s face further between her hips, humping up from some indistinct surface — there was no time for detail, and I felt a crippling orgasm overtake me as I slipped from my chair, whimpering through wheezing breaths on the carpet.
Jesus. I couldn’t even get my head around this thing for thirty seconds without falling into a puddle of my own cum.
. . . . .
The day before Lizzie was set to return, I had run over to the rink to pick up some registration material for the Nationals when I ran into Paulette and Felicia.
“Abby!” The girl squealed, running over to me and wrapping her arms around my chest. “I’ve missed you and Lizzie so much!” Her mother nodded and followed, slowly.
“I’ve missed you too, sweetie. All finished practice?”
“Yeah! I wish Lizzie was here to see. She’s coming back tomorrow, right?”
“Yep, tomorrow.” Her eyes lit up.
“Can she stay the night? Mommy, can Lizzie come and stay the night?” Paulette, finally reaching us, placed her arms on Felicia’s shoulders and dragged her eyes up to meet mine. She looked tired and slightly irritated. “Sweetie, I’m sure Abby would like to have Lizzie home after not seeing her for so long…”
That was certainly true, as was Paulette plainly not wanting my daughter over. Something deep inside me twitched. “Oh, that’s okay. If it’s all right with your mom, Felicia, it’s all right with me. I’ll have plenty of time with her on the car ride home. And sometimes,” I looked up at Paulette. “Sometimes, a girl just needs a friend.”
“Can she, Momma? Please?”
Paulette’s lip appeared to tremor under my gaze. “Sure, sweetie. Sure she can.”
. . . . .
“Are you sure you’re okay with me riding home with the older students, Mom? You didn’t respond to my e-mail.”
“Of course I am, Lizzie. I’ve just been busy.” Lie. “I’m glad.” Lie again, bitch. “I’m glad you made friends up there.” Okay. Truth.
“Yeah! Even the girl who was peeved about my solo ice time.”
“Well, I think we’ll only have time for a quick bite. How about… I pick you up from the station, then we drop your stuff off, and go to Spaghetti Freddy’s?”
“Yeah! Then Paulette’s after?”
“Of course.”
“…Mommy?”
“Yes?”
“I know I told you a bunch on Skype, but I really, really missed you. And I’m glad you’re letting me go to Felicia’s tomorrow. But I love you so much. And I’m really excited to see you again. And I promise that the day after I get back will be just us, okay? No skating, no nothing. Just you and me.”
I tried my damnedest, but there was no way she missed my tears on the screen. “That sounds lovely, sweetheart. I’m looking forward to it. I love you, too.
“More than anything.”
. . . . .
It was raining on the way home from dropping Lizzie off at Paulette and Felicia’s, so I jogged from the car to the porch. As I stepped up and started to pull my hood down, I jumped: there was Brenda. Eyes red, soaking wet, hands in the pockets of her outsized parka. “I was wrong, Abby,” she squeaked.
“What are you talking about?”
“They kicked me out.”
. . . . .
I walked into the living room with our tea and sat down next to Brenda, knees tucked into her chest at the end of the couch. “Thank you so much, Abby. Ellen can come get me tomorrow. I don’t know what I’m gonna do when school starts up, but —”
“You can stay as long as you need to, Brenda. Just tell me what happened.”
“My parents found my journal.”
I felt the blood drain from my face. “You keep a journal?”
“Uh-huh…” She sensed my concern. “Don’t worry, it’s sanitized, but not enough to hide that I like women.”
“And that was enough? For them to kick you out?”
“Well, it started as a fight about honesty, about me hiding things from them, but when I told them I was sure no man would be giving them a grandchild through me, that’s when it got ugly.
“I said I wouldn’t be mean enough to have kids with them as grandparents, so my mom said… she told me to go live with… with the older woman that I seem to love so much more than I love them.”
I swallowed. “The older woman…?”
“Yeah… the older woman.” She sent her head leaning forward, inexorably, towards mine. Our lips met shyly, soon becoming reacquainted like lost lovers. I felt the sweet touch of her tongue, and pulled back, looking into her eyes. “Brenda, I don’t think you’re in a very good place right now.”
Her fingers raked softly across my shoulders as she brought her cheek to my chest. She mewled. “I dunno, Abby, this feels like an awful nice place…”
I struggled to reply, to deny. What was the point?
She looked up at me. “I know I have a lot to think about. And to do. But I don’t care about anything right now besides being with you.”
“Oh, sweetie…” I sighed, falling to the couch. Brenda brought her lips to my collarbone and nibbled gently as she placed her palm wide and flat on my stomach. I felt the entire lower half of my body quiver under her touch. I knew my panties would be damp already. But I wasn’t ready yet.
“Brenda, whatever this is, we’re not going to start it with a lie. I need you to tell me about you and Lizzie.” She was silent. All-in, I decided — on a half-bluff. “I think you know what I’m talking about, dear.”
“Yeah…” She looked on the verge of tears and I could tell she wouldn’t be forthcoming on her own.
“What did you mean, on one of our Skype calls, when you agreed… emphasized that Lizzie was up for anything? Again… I think you know what I mean.”
She looked down at her lap but I cupped her chin and brought her face up. She knew I was waiting for an answer.
“Showering together… to save water.” Oh God. I clasped one of her hands in mine.
“In the shower… is showering all you did?”
“Pretty much.” Had her blush always been this impossibly cute? “I was too nervous. Lizzie wasn’t… at all.”
I chuckled softly as my fingers played over her palm. “What would you have… liked to have done?”
“You want me to tell you?”
I nodded.
“Lick around her ear, kiss down her neck, bite her shoulder,” she breathed out in what I could only describe as a hesitant rush. I was rapt. “I love her little breasts. I know she’s getting them now. She looked so amazing skating up there… especially when it was just us, none of Aunt Ellen’s other students. She wouldn’t wear anything underneath, and they’d get all hard… so I thought maybe she liked me, like, you know, so I thought the shower was a good idea… but I just felt so dumb and… and pervy.”
“But it kept happening?”
“Lizzie wanted to.” Of course. “Last night, she asked me to wash her back. It was so nice, she’s so perfect, her body…” She began to trail off, but caught herself and looked embarrassed.
“Brenda, let me tell you one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“You have no reason to feel like a pervert, sweetheart. At least around me.”
“What do you mean?”
“Lizzie is… a desirable girl.”
“You mean — you —” she looked down and giggled. “Gosh, Abby, that is… hot.” The word seemed to embarrass her.
“What would you do if she was here, right now, with us?”
“I would kiss her.”
“I already know that, dear.” I cupped her cheek and kissed her, quick but hard. “Anything. You can do anything.”
“I wanna eat her little pussy.” That one she got out just fine. “I saw it. In the shower. She has just the littlest tuft on top with a bit trailing down. Like a comet.” I hadn’t been so turned on since my first time with Paulette. And we’d barely touched.
“What else?”
“Her butthole.”
I leaned forward and, kicking off the start of her own fantasy of Lizzie, started in on her ear. “That’s so dirty, dear. My little girl’s butthole. Never had anything in there but a suppository. What would you do with it?”
“I wanna look at it first.” Our mouths and ears were connected, working like a circuit. I felt an intimacy I rarely had before, my pussy dripping as this beautiful teenager talked about my daughter’s rectum. “I want her to hold it open for me. I haven’t looked at it close, but I bet it’s barely a different color than her cheeks. I bet it’s got a few little crinkles. Then I wanna put my nose in it… I want to smell it deep, I wanna smell her everywhere…” I squeezed her breast, but kept my head next to hers. “Would you… do anything else?”
“Uh-huh,” she moaned. “I’d put my tongue in her perfect little butthole. As far as I could. In ‘n out. Till it’s all slippery…” I hugged her tight and felt her heave into me.
“Oh baby, you want her so, so bad, don’t you?”
“I want her!” She shot a hand down to her lap and pressed, shifted once, and came hard. When she was finished she pulled back and looked at me with newly damp eyes. “Oh my God, that was… the best.”
“Would you like to go upstairs, dear? And see how wonderfully wrong you are?”
. . . . .
She saw. Several times before three o’clock in the morning. Shortly thereafter, the feeling of Brenda’s lips around my nipple nudged me awake. I surged with affection for this incredible girl, urging my chest up to her mouth. “That feels nice,” I whispered, stroking back and forth across the fine ridges of her back. She whimpered affirmatively, and I felt her humping into the mattress. Holding her head with one hand so she knew she wasn’t to pull away, I reached down to her hips with the other and brought the bottom half of her body around. We were soon together like a ‘T’, and when she moved to switch nipples I slid my fingers inside her pussy, causing her to bite down sharp on her new point of interest. She increased the speed of her mouth, moaning into my tit and suckling greedily as her juices ran down my hand and onto the sheets. My position let me slip my pinkie down to her clit so I was moving up and down the length of her, fingers inside, and sawing into her raw little button on the downstroke. She was moaning so hard she was almost sobbing. I could tell she was going to come.
I reluctantly pulled her mouth from my nipple. “I want your cunt.”
She chirped in delight and swiveled her hips over my face. “Omigod, Abby!” She let out as she sank down onto me, lips settling perfectly onto mine, my nostrils engulfed in her asshole. I simply drank her in at first, exploring widely and lazily with my tongue, imbibing on her dripping cum whenever I took a breath. Her body moved in little circles, playing with my nipples, excitedly, like Christmas toys she had been waiting for since January.
My fingers bristled through her pubic hair like summer reeds, fine and light, and there, waiting, at the small field’s ending pause, the punctured pucker she had so obsessed over on my daughter, licked by foamy cream. It tasted heavenly, but just as I found myself aching for something else, there was my little lover’s breath on my bush, a high sound coming from her throat as I sensed her smelling me. Her tongue met me slowly but insistently, and it was soon clear she had indeed learned a thing or two from her little rink bunny. She tugged on my pubes with her teeth, nibbled my inner lips, putting me off just enough to let me know I was being inhaled. I wailed her name into her hole and she sucked my clit into her mouth; teeth again, but perfectly so, piercing through to a blissful burst and we cried and came both. “I-I love you, Abby…”
“I love you too, Brenda.”
. . . . .
We woke up early the next morning and decided we’d go to Brenda’s and get her clothes. Since we were covered legally, we would admit nothing but let her parents think what they wanted to. The focus was on making sure she was secure and comfortable.
It was a few hours earlier than I was supposed to pick up Lizzie when I pulled into Paulette’s driveway. I told Brenda to wait in the car and got out to head up the cobblestones.
To this day, I sometimes wonder how things would have played out had I made it to the door; if I hadn’t caught the movement in the bay window, to the left of that door; if I hadn’t gleaned enough of the nature of that movement to have me walking through that door, turning sharply, and seeing Paulette’s face sticking out of the top of a sleeping bag, a thin pair of legs on either side of her head, the rest of the young body occupied busily with something lower down inside.
My heart stopped — until I saw Lizzie in her own sleeping bag a few feet away, still asleep. Before I could think, I was running over to my daughter and yanking her out by the underarms. Paulette turned her head boozily. Her eyes shot open when she saw me, and I heard “Abby!” and “Mommy?” at the same hurried moment.
My shoulder thudded hard as I turned the corner, my knee maybe harder as I rushed out the front door. The tears on my face felt like fire in the cool air. A hand touched my shoulder and I whipped around. “What?!”
“Can we talk, Abby?” Tears were streaming down Paulette’s face. “Please?”
“About what?” I sneered. “About keeping it as ‘pictures’? Pictures in front of my fucking ten-year-old daughter!”
“Abby, please!”
“Save it.”
“Mommy, why are you mad?”
“Mommy’s all right, sweetie,” I tried to reassure her into the backseat. “But I need you to get in the car and keep quiet, okay?”
Brenda hadn’t made a move but was staring at us, intently. I ignored Paulette’s pleading and got into the driver’s seat, closed the door, and pulled away.
Two blocks later, at the next red light, Brenda turned to me.
“Abby… what happened?”
Continue on to Chapter 4
