Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

by Author Unknown

Note from JetBoy: So — another mystery tale from the JetBoy files. Like the others, I don’t know who wrote it or from whence it comes… like the others, I tweaked it somewhat, after turning it up years ago… like the others, I felt it was too good to keep to myself. I encourage anyone who knows the original (or even better, wrote the original in the first place) to contact us.

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My daughter Honey was a beautiful girl… a lovely face, dark hair in a cute pixie cut, big dimples and a laugh that made everyone who heard it smile. She was a quiet child, one who never really fit in with kids her own age. My mom always said that Honey had an “old spirit,” which might have been true. She’d always seemed more content to spend time in the barn or the garden than playing with other children, and was far more interested in nature than toys.

Truthfully, my daughter was a terrific asset to the household, especially after her father walked out on us for a girl of sixteen who bagged groceries at the neighborhood Winn-Dixie. Honey had learned everything she needed to know about gardening from her grandfather, and every summer she grew fresh vegetables for our larder. Her tomatoes are, to this day, the best I’ve ever tasted.

She also kept honeybees, another thing she picked up from my father. I was leery of letting her keep bees, as it seemed kind of dangerous, but finally I decided I’d let her try one hive to start.

If anyone ever had a knack for anything, it was Honey for her bees. It was as if Providence had dictated the name we gave her. By the time she was sixteen, she had a half dozen hives and had quite a bit of money saved for college from the honey she sold.

I was proud of my daughter, and loved her so much it hurt, but I worried about her at the same time. Honey was pretty, but she was bashful to the point of it being an actual handicap. I had raised her to be herself, though, and tried not to do much more than encourage her to be a bit more outgoing.

Our lives progressed as slowly and pleasantly as the warm afternoons Honey and I shared in the garden, or on the front porch sipping lemonade. By then, my husband had been gone for three years. I had dated a bit, but quickly became bored with the men in my town. That’s when I began to fantasize about finding sexual pleasure with another woman. I didn’t have the nerve to come on to another female, however — not in a rural community like mine. Instead I settled for lesbian erotica, a few sex toys purchased through the mail and my own fingers.

It was the second week of August, on a Wednesday night. I’d put on a dress and walked down to our local church for prayer meeting. Honey had never been much of a churchgoer, so I always attended the service on my own. Truth be told, I wasn’t much of a believer myself anymore, but still found pleasure in the ritual of community worship.

When I got there, a few of the other church women were standing outside chatting. As it turned out, Pastor Griggs had been unable to lead the service that day — evidently, he’d eaten too much watermelon with his noontime meal and was laid up with a stomach ache. Since it was so hot anyhow, they’d chosen to cancel the meeting. So I leisurely strolled the half mile back home, thinking the whole way how good a glass of ice-cold lemonade would taste once I got there.

I walked into the house and to the kitchen, where I put on my apron and made that pitcher of lemonade. I was just about to call to Honey to see if she wanted a glass, when I noticed that the coat hooks where she always hung her beekeeping hat with the veil and her bucket were empty. Figuring she was out tending her hives, I glanced out the back door and saw something lying on the ground about ten feet out from the steps. I walked out and saw it was one of Honey’s shoes. A few feet further, I found the other shoe. I walked about ten paces more and found her bibbed overalls lying in a heap on the ground.

I was instantly startled, afraid something awful had happened. I rushed down the path towards the edge of the field where my daughter’s beehives were, finding the rest of her clothes as I went.

Once I got within sight of the hives, I was in shock! There, tending them as usual was Honey, but now she was stark naked! I nearly shouted at her, but then stopped myself — I didn’t want to do anything that would stir up those bees.

So I stood and watched, torn between terror and fascination, as Honey opened the top of a hive and began taking out a frame, then retrieving the honeycomb. The bees just seemed to take it in stride as they buzzed freely around her, crawling all over her naked body.

I stood mesmerized as Honey scraped the honeycomb into her bucket, replaced the frame and top to the hive, and started back the path to the house, just as casual as can be.

A few yards past the hives, she broke off a piece of honeycomb. As she walked along she held it aloft and licked the honey from it, dripping golden drizzles of sweetness down between her breasts and onto her belly.

I hadn’t noticed until then how wonderfully Honey had blossomed into womanhood. She always wore baggy overalls and one of my ex-husband’s old shirts, concealing the contours of her body. Her breasts were slight, her stomach flat and her hips hadn’t filled out as much as mine, but she had become quite womanly… and utterly beautiful. Now I stared at my little girl, awed by her loveliness.

Once she started back up the path, I stepped out of sight, partly because I didn’t want to startle her… partly because I didn’t want to seem like I was spying on my own child. But I was. Moments earlier, my heart had been pounding frantically, my breath held out of fear for her safety. Now, my heart seemed to be pulsing with something other than fear.

I couldn’t take my eyes away from my daughter as she licked at the honeycomb, excess running down over her silky white skin. Her nipples were visibly erect as the honey slowly flowed over them like amber lava. It was easily the most sensual thing I’d ever witnessed. I could feel my own nipples beginning to throb under the church dress I still wore. My palms began to sweat as my hands trembled and I smoothed them down my thighs.

My God… could I be sexually attracted to my own daughter?

As she drew nearer I became aware of the dampness growing in my panties. My head was swimming with emotions. I wanted to run away, I wanted to touch myself, I wanted to kiss her — but all I could do was gape at Honey, lost in the sight of my naked child.

I hadn’t been this aroused in ages. My mouth had gone dry and I could feel sweat trickle down the small of my back. I stood motionless in the humid August evening, my senses so alive that I seemed to glow like the sun. I know this sounds blasphemous, but it felt as if I’d been touched by the hand of God.

Suddenly my naked daughter was but a few feet from me. “Honey,” I tried to say, but it came out as nothing more than a whisper.

She started, dropping the piece of honeycomb. For an instant she looked wide-eyed and surprised, but then a euphoric smile spread across her face as she looked deep into my eyes. I suppose, even to someone as innocent as Honey, the look of sexual desire is pretty easy to recognize.

My child slowly walked over to where I stood. Still smiling, her lips parted as if she was going to speak, but she never uttered a word. Instead she raised her fingers to my trembling lips.

“Baby… no…” I whimpered as my daughter slowly traced my lower lip, leaving a trail of honey.

“I love you, Momma,” she said — then her mouth claimed mine in a gentle kiss.

Unable to push her away, I relished the exquisite sweetness of my daughter’s mouth. Pulling away with a giggle, Honey touched her fingertips to my lips again. This time they parted, allowing her middle and index fingers to enter my mouth.

Closing my eyes, I slowly and methodically sucked her sticky fingers clean. Honey gave out a little moan and brought her face to mine once more, licking the honey from the corners of my mouth, her tongue briefly engaging mine. Throwing all restraint to the winds, I sucked at it.

Honey dropped her bucket, which hit the ground with a thunk, then I could feel her frantically unfastening the buttons of my dress. We kissed deeply and passionately as she pushed the garment off my shoulders, letting it fall to the ground.

Our tongues mingled, fell back, then mingled again. They swirled together, probing, teasing, our lips still sticky and sweet. Heart pounding, I dipped my face down to kiss one of her honeyed nipples. I knew this was wrong — she was my daughter, for God’s sake! — but the desire I felt was too powerful to refuse.

Honey gasped as I suckled her stiff nipple. My tongue explored her soft skin, lapping up the sweetness that she had drizzled on herself. Honey moaned, clutching my shoulders with both hands. I could feel her shiver as I caressed her beautiful bottom.

All at once Honey was pulling my slip off over my head and casting it away, Before I knew what was happening we were on the ground, panting and moaning, grinding our bodies together. I was on my back and Honey on top of me, fucking my mouth with her hot tongue.

I moaned when she slid a hand into my panties, parting my swollen, sticky labia with her fingers. She tickled and teased my clit until I was seeing fireworks. Whatever reluctance I’d felt before about making love to my own daughter had dissolved like mist.

Honey turned around and lay down beside me, coaxing me over until our positions were reversed and I was on top of her. My body throbbed like a tractor engine as I realized what my daughter wanted. I eagerly  straddled Honey’s face, then lowered my face between her parted thighs and tasted another woman for the first time.

We ate each other’s cunts in such a lustful frenzy that in no time, we were both moaning in ecstasy. I had no idea where Honey learned to do what she did to my pussy with her tongue, but it was incredible. She circled around my clit, only brushing it, never actually touching it until she was ready to get me off, and when she finally did… well, I‘ve never experienced such earth-shattering rapture, before or since.

It was a sinful act I was committing, making love to my own daughter — but at the same time, it felt so right and so natural that the notion of right and wrong got completely lost. I licked and sucked Honey’s pussy like I’d been a lesbian all my life. I went down on her the way I loved having my cunt eaten, the few times my late husband had done it to me… and my instincts must have run true, for my daughter was trembling helplessly and mewling with delight as I loved her. Soon Honey was nearly screaming as I brought her to a wrenching climax.

Spent, we lay side by side, bathed with sweat in the cool grass, trying to catch our breath and collect our thoughts, holding hands as the sun set off in the distance, causing shadows from the nearby pine trees to paint our naked bodies. We turned to one another, cuddled close and shared tender kisses as we whispered words of devotion.

After that afternoon, Honey shared my bed. We fucked morning, noon and night, whenever we had the time and desire to get naked together. Two years later, my daughter are still passionately in love.

Oh, and Honey ended up teaching me how to tend to her bees. I often collect the honey naked, as she still does… and several times I have masturbated a few yards away from the hives, remembering the day that my child and I became lovers.

The End