Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

By Cheryl Taggert

The next evening, Sharon found herself unwilling to go to bed. She realized she had suffered through a night of unpleasant dreams the night before, and thinking about that had led her to discover the cause.

Her ex-husband.

Well, he wasn’t exactly her ex since they’d never divorced. But she would never see him again, and she was glad of that if for nothing else.

She decided she had to talk it out with Beverly or the images would remain with her, possibly leading to another restless night. They had mentioned him briefly, and that had been enough to cause her mind to suffer all through the night before. She hoped sharing her story would help alleviate the stress she was experiencing despite the surety that he would never find her, especially out here in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.

As Beverly rose to go to bed — the girls had fallen asleep over an hour before — Sharon reached out and touched the younger woman’s arm. The touch seemed urgent to Beverly, somehow conveying an air of need, and she sat back down to look into the woman’s beautiful eyes, the brows now furrowed in worry.

“What is it?” Beverly asked. “Is everything okay?”

Sharon felt a tear begin a slow journey down her cheek and wiped it away.

“I’m not sure. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Why not?”

“I think it was because of my husband. We mentioned him and I think the memory gave me nightmares.”

“Oh, Sharon. I’m so sorry. Is there something I could do to help?”

“Would you listen to my story? I think if I got it out and talked about it at long last, I might find some relief from the terrible memories.”

“Of course,” Beverly said. “Please, go ahead. Empty your heart to me. I know talking about things that are troubling me always helps.”

Sharon took a deep breath, exhaled, and began.

“Well, my husband — whom, thank God, I’ll never see again — was a terrible man. I didn’t realize it at first, of course. He was charming, attentive, the perfect husband. Well, I should have been suspicious. Perfection is, after all, impossible. But he swept me off my feet. Romantic and so damn handsome. I was enthralled. I won’t lie to you. He was good in bed, and I even had quite a few fantasies about him that ended with multiple orgasms while alone in my bed at night before we ever even had sex for the first time.

“He held me under his spell until we were married. Within days, he had changed. Or rather I should say he didn’t change. He just allowed his true self to come out from behind the mask.

“The first time that happened, I had cooked him a wonderful dinner, but he was late coming home. And I mean late. He didn’t get home until well after eleven o’clock at night. He was drunk, something I’d never seen. And when I asked where he’d been, he looked at me with such… hatred and anger. I remember wondering if he was going to ask me for a divorce, claiming he had made a mistake.

“But I wasn’t that lucky. He called me terrible names, grabbed me by the arm, and told me never to question him again. He kicked me in the behind and I went sprawling onto the floor. He continued kicking, bruising me terribly. Then he grabbed my breast and twisted it, pinching and twisting the nipple until the pain was excruciating. I literally thought he was going to twist the damn thing off.

“Then he picked me up and threw me on the bed, ripping my dress off and tumbling on top of me. Soon, he was inside me and moments later, he was finished. It was the first time he had not made sure I was made to feel special and an object of supreme love. He rutted like a dog and cast me aside once he was through.”

Sharon looked down at her lap as if remembering the penetration — the rape really. “I’m not entirely sure, but I think I became pregnant with Susan after that night. If not that time, one of the times that followed, either accompanied by his anger and poisonous remarks, or just a quick fucking, one in which I was not an active participant.”

“Was every time like that?” Beverly asked, concern evident in her voice.

“No. There were good times, but they occurred so seldom really. There were times when he felt remorse from what he’d done and then he would revert to the nice person he had been, but that was short-lived, and I knew it wouldn’t last.

“Then,” she began, but the sobs that began to shake her kept her from talking.

“It’s okay,” Beverly said. “Forget him.”

“No,” Sharon said. “I have to tell you this. It’s the worst part and what I think was the trigger for the nightmares.”

Beverly sat back, knowing Sharon knew best and willing to listen to it all, no matter how ugly the story became.

“He, well, he started — allowing — his friends to have me.”

“You mean –?” Beverly could not say what she meant. It was too ugly for her mouth to give voice to.

Sharon nodded emphatically. “They were all ages, all… desires. Every orifice was assaulted. No form of debauchery was ignored.

“Then one night after Susan was born, he told me the truth. He was selling my body to his friends and their friends. He was making money from my pain and degradation. I was forced to do despicable things. He had even been selling me during my pregnancy, up until Susan was born. It was after that, he told me I had to get back into shape as soon as I could because, as he said, “Nobody wants to pay as much money as he charged for me if I looked like a pig. Apparently, they didn’t mind my stomach if I was pregnant, but they didn’t want the post-pregnancy flabbiness.”

“That’s — lord — that’s terrible. I have no idea how you didn’t kill yourself,” Beverly said before adding, “or him.”

“I thought about it, but then I’d look at Susan and know I couldn’t leave her like that. And as for killing him, that would end up with me in jail, making Susan a ward of the state. I couldn’t allow them to take my daughter from me.”

“And you stayed with him until just before we sailed?” Beverly asked, incredulous that she could handle such abuse for so many years.

“Not exactly. I left him when Susan was only four. Oddly, I left after discovering him in bed with her, licking her pussy. I think the thing about it that bothered me the most was that she seemed to enjoy it. I left him the next day, and I was surprised just how easy it was. I went to San Francisco and stayed and worked there until I saw him walking down a street in town. He didn’t see me, but I knew if he did, my life would be over. That’s when I found passage on the ship where we met.”

The tears had dried up, and Sharon just sat there, looking into the loving eyes of Beverly, the woman she was quickly falling in love with. She had been a very sexual person all her life, only finding sex to be a terrible aspect of life once she’d begun to be raped much more often than made love to. Her comment from the night before was true — she had masturbated to prevent feeling the need for sexual gratification from him, but the complete truth was that it was actually the only sexual enjoyment she had during her marriage. It was the only time she reached orgasm, and while the monster to whom she’d been married had made male-female sex disgusting for her, the desire for orgasms hadn’t disappeared.

And now, she found herself falling in love with Beverly. She realized she wasn’t just enjoying the sex with Beverly. She was falling in love, and so she began to deal with the reality that she was a lesbian. Perhaps she had been her entire life and just didn’t realize it until faced with the ugliness of her marriage.

Leaning forward, Sharon let her lips meet Beverly’s. The kiss was tender at first. A kiss of love more than one of desire. Then the kiss began to replicate itself, seemingly without their choice, quick kisses that started soft and slow and grew in intensity until they were communicating their blossoming desire.

Beverly could feel her own sex begin to swell and moisten as the kiss began to change from tender to torrid. She could feel her clit begin to stiffen and her vaginal juices start to flow. Despite the warmth of the air, her nipples began to pucker and tighten. This sensation grew from one of slight desire to a demand for satisfaction. Her breasts ached to be touched, fondled, squeezed. They longed to be kissed, licked, chewed gently, and sucked.

Heat became a flame; want became need.

And need promised satisfaction.

Sharon could feel that promise. Her heart surged with emotion and the tears returned, but this time they were tears of happiness and desire. Tears of promises kept. Tears of love.

“Kiss my breasts!” Beverly said, the urgency clear in her voice.

Sharon moved her head down to the twin globes and gladly pressed her lips against her lover’s pliant flesh. As her lips made contact with the sensitive nipple of Beverly’s left breast, she could feel Beverly shiver. Sharon drew the puckered flesh into her hungry mouth, sucking on the fleshy tip and savoring the way the nipple felt against her tongue and the roof of her mouth.

Beverly, meanwhile, continued to shiver with the desire that coursed through her veins. Her blood pounded throughout her body, lighting small fires of passion on its journey. Her clit seemed to become more sensitive than she ever remembered, and her vagina flooded her labia with lubrication to the point that she could feel the fluids begin to form a small river down toward her butt hole. She felt as though her body was on fire, which made the shivering that would not cease seem both out of place and appropriate.

Sharon moved to her lover’s right breast, mimicking what she’d done to the left mound, much to Beverly’s delight. Beverly had always had such sensitive breasts, and the realization that she longed for Sharon to make love to them as she was doing so well made the eroticism of the moment more intense.

Beverly held Sharon’s head against her chest and did her best to catch her breath as the lovely sensations flowed through her, but the panting only increased.

For her part, Sharon continued to feel the sting of tears as she realized she wanted to make Beverly reach her climax more than she wanted one for herself. Yes, she admitted to herself, she was in love — more in love than she’d ever been with a man.

Sharon reached for Beverly’s cunt and spread the lips apart while her mouth made love to the woman’s breasts. She plunged a finger down through the creamy crevice, feeling the stiff button of the woman’s clitoris as she passed her finger down toward the source of Beverly’s erotic flood, the moisture that seemed to bubble from deep within the woman’s sex like lava.

Beverly lay back, reclining on the soft pillow of sand, where she spread her legs to allow Sharon access to her most intimate area. They had engaged in sex only a couple of times before, but this was different. This was not the satisfying of sexual cravings, not the wanton journey to a needed orgasm. This was making love. This was a physical declaration of more than desire; it was a moment in which the women wordlessly declared emotional love for one another.

Each woman felt as if this were something similar to a wedding night.

“I love you!” Sharon breathed, uttering those sacred words without shame.

“I love you, too!” Beverly exclaimed, tears of joy springing to her eyes.

Sharon lay on top of Beverly, molding her flesh to Beverly’s. Nipple kissed nipple, clitoris kissed clitoris, lips kissed lips. The two began to hump against each other, savoring the delight that spread from their wombs to the farthest reaches of their flesh. They felt the luxurious contact of skin to skin as their grunts of pleasure and loving abandon filled the night air.

Karen awoke to these sounds and through the fog of sleep began to realize two things: Her mother and Sharon were making love outside their sleeping quarters, and she had to pee. She wondered if she should wait or go ahead and answer nature’s call. She didn’t want to disturb the two women, but she also felt the urge begin to burn inside her.

She glanced over at Susan, who was still asleep, her mouth slightly open and some drool beginning to puddle beneath her jaw. The girl’s breathing indicated she was nowhere near to wakefulness. She wanted to ask Susan if she thought it would be okay to go ahead and walk past the two women to reach the area that had been designated the community bathroom. She didn’t need to poop, which was good. That would entail digging a hole first. But the urge to pee was now becoming painful.

Rising, she figured if her mother or Sharon didn’t like being interrupted, they would just have to deal with it.

She walked as softly as she could past the women, who were writhing together on a bed of sand. Sharon was on top of her mother, she saw, and the two women were making fucking motions against each other. Grunts and squeals punctuated the air as the child crept past them, hoping not to be seen.

She reached the bathroom area successfully and squatted just as the women reached their orgasms simultaneously. They were making quite a bit of noise, and she wondered how in the world Susan was sleeping through this.

After finishing her business, Karen stood and crept down to the water’s edge to rinse her slit, which the women had told them to do to remain clean and free of any rashes that could develop. She squatted and pooled some of the water in her hand before raising it to her mound and splashing the area, repeating this several times to clean it of pee.

She was somewhat surprised that her clit was swollen now, apparently having reacted to the sounds of her mother and Sharon having sex. The touches started a small spark of desire, and as she continued fondling herself there, the spark set off a small fire in her loins. Soon, that fire had grown to a small blaze, and she was squatting in the gentle surf, rubbing her pussy toward an orgasm.

Several minutes went by, and she forgot about her mother and Sharon. All she knew now was that they had grown quiet, so she began to concentrate on her own tender pussy.

“Karen?’

The voice of her mother startled her, and she stopped her unplanned masturbation session to look toward the voice.

Her mother was standing nearby, holding hands with Sharon. They had apparently walked to where the small waves were breaking against the shore and had been standing there enjoying the stars as they glimmered on the water when they’d spotted Karen rubbing herself at the ocean’s edge.

“Are you masturbating?” Beverly asked, as if asking if the girl were awake.

“Uh-huh. Is that okay?” the child asked, still not used to the new rules. Perhaps her mother would not want her to do this after they’d gone to bed for the night? She didn’t know.

Karen could feel the women gazing at her naked body, her hand still cupping her bald pussy.

“Um, of course,” Beverly said. “Go ahead.”

Karen began to return slowly to her impromptu fun, as if still unsure.

“Did we wake you?” Sharon asked.

“Not really. I woke up and needed to pee.”

“You walked right past us while we were –?” Beverly asked.

For some reason Karen knew her mother was blushing, although she could not see her face in the dark.

“Yeah,” Karen confessed. “I hope that’s okay.”

“Of course it is, honey,” Sharon said. “You had to pee.”

Karen’s hand was beginning to pick up speed as the women watched, spellbound.

“Did seeing us cause you to want to… well… do this?” Sharon asked.

“Yeah,” Karen answered, blushing some herself. “And hearing you.”

“Well,” Beverly said, “we’re going to go back and lie down now. Just ignore us, okay?”

Karen, whose breathing was becoming erratic, said, “Okay” and continued her session of self-love.

The girl watched the two women return to the bed of soft sand and lie down, this time moving into a sixty-nine. They started slowly, but soon they were once again moaning their passion to the skies.

Karen kept her gaze on them. The full moon was up and she could make their movements out in the light it supplied.

The trembling began deep inside her, and soon it burst from her, causing her to tremble and shake with its power.

When she was finished, she realized she was still not satisfied. Susan had been like this a few times. She was new to the idea of having orgasms, and prior to this time she had been satisfied with one, not really wanting another until she had rested for a bit, but this time was different. The first one had only seemed to make her hungry for more.

She decided for the first time she wanted to have another one right away, but she wanted to do something first.

Standing, she crept over to where her mother and Sharon were making love. Choosing a spot about five feet away from them, she squatted and began to rub her tender slit again, spreading what little fluid she produced around in her puss.

She did not know the term voyeur but she learned that night she was one, despite not knowing a word for what stimulated her the most. She found she enjoyed watching people having sex — it heightened her own desires to extreme levels — and she began to have an endless series of orgasms while watching her mother and Sharon together.

When the two women noticed they were not alone, they mostly ignored Karen. They were fine with her watching them, but they did not wish to do anything with her at that moment. This time was special for them, and it seemed fitting that one of their girls should be there to witness it.

What surprised them, however, was that the child was still there when they finally lay back in exhaustion to enjoy the afterglow of their lovemaking. The child climaxed twice more after they had finished. Then Karen stood and, without a word, moved back to her makeshift bed for the night.

Continue on to Chapter 6