Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

by Right There

Reworked for Juicy Secrets by JetBoy

{ This story was originally posted at Literotica in February 2006 }

***

“You’re a beautiful, beautiful bride, sweetheart,” my father said as he admired me in the mirror, a hand resting on my shoulder.

“Thank you, Daddy.” Then I added as I hugged him, “But you’d say that no matter what I looked like.”

He didn’t try to hide his smile as he said, “So sue me. That’s a father’s job. I’m really happy for you, Nell. Mark’s a terrific guy.”

“He is, Daddy. I’m sure this is the right thing.” I was sure now, but five years ago if you had told me I would end up here, marrying Mr. Dependable, I would have laughed in your face.

“Well. I’d better get going, sweetheart. I’ll see you in a few minutes — at the aisle.”

As he stepped through the door to my dressing room, he remembered something.

“By the way, you’ll never guess who showed up — Bobbi! I guess she decided she couldn’t miss seeing her baby sister get married after all.” He chuckled to himself, not noticing the blood draining from my face. As he turned to leave, he said, “She wanted to see you before the ceremony. I’ll send her in.” And he closed the door, leaving me alone… and reeling.

Bobbi? Damn it! What was she doing here? I couldn’t deal with seeing her now!

But deal with it I would have to, as the door swung open and she stepped in.

“Don’t close the…”

Too late. The door clicked shut, and I was alone with my big sister. I felt trapped already, and the world outside the door was fading away.

She was dressed up, for her, in black honest-to-god slacks, a white shirt, and a black jacket. With her close-cropped hair, she looked like a more feminine version of K.D. Lang. At least the way she was dressed covered most of her tattoos. God, how could my father not know she was a dyke? Maybe he didn’t want to.

My eyes traveled down without my thinking about it, as they had a thousand times before. Shit! She was packing! Who else had noticed? Who knew that I was alone in here with a lesbian wearing a strap-on cock?

I could feel myself breathing harder. Gotta get myself under control.

There was a time when I would have crawled across the floor for that cock. Would have begged. A time when I had done all of those things, plus things I didn’t let myself think about any more. My sister had held that kind of power over me. Gotta get myself under control, gotta get myself under control. I’m marrying Mark today.

“Hello, baby sister.”

“Bobbi… what the fuck–”

“What am I doing here?” She crossed the small room, closing the space between us as she spoke. “Well, I couldn’t let my baby sister get married and not see her before it happens, could I?”

“Bobbi, please. Don’t.”

“Don’t? Don’t what? Don’t come to send you on your way with best wishes?” She was only inches from me now, but I couldn’t seem to get myself to back away. She firmly grasped my shoulders and turned me to face the full-length mirror.

Standing behind me, looking over my shoulder, she said, “Let’s see how my baby sister dressed for her big day.”

“Bobbi, please. I’m twenty-three. I’m not your baby sister any more.”

She ignored that, as I had known she would. “Mmm. Very pretty. I don’t think you ever dressed this pretty for me when we lived together.”

“I dressed the way you wanted me to, and you know it. Like an ultra-femme slut. Bobbi, don’t do this. You’ve got to go.”

“Now, now, baby sister.” She had been steadily pushing me closer to the mirror; now it was within arm’s reach. “I couldn’t come all this way to see how you dressed up for your wedding and not get a good look at what your new hubby’s going to see later, could I?” She started pulling up my dress, but that wasn’t easy; there was a lot of it.

“Bobbi, please. Please don’t.” But I couldn’t make myself stop her.

Finally she had an armful of wedding gown bunched around my waist. “Well. Very, very nice. I see you still have some of the things you used to wear for me after all.”

“This isn’t something I ever wore for you.” But it might as well have been. White heels and white stockings, held up by a garter belt that matched my skimpy thong. I still felt a little awkward, dressing like this, but knew Mark would love seeing me in it later. He deserved that, damn it! I was marrying him in a few minutes, and he deserved to see me walking to our bed in my heels and sexy lingerie. He deserved a wife who was only thinking about showing off for him, not for her dyke sister… her sexy, desirable dyke sister.

“And do you still shave that adorable pussy of yours?”

“No! I mean, I leave a little hair above it. And that’s none of your business any more, Bobbi.” God, my legs were trembling.

“Why, baby sister, there was a time when you would have lifted up that pretty dress yourself and shown me everything you had… anywhere I asked you to. In fact, here. Hold your dress up for me.”

I wanted to hit her, to kick her, to scream, call her a sadistic bitch. But instead I took my dress from her and held it up.

This allowed her to lower her hands, to run them over my hips, my bottom. “So tell me — does Mark ever fuck you in the ass?”

I should’ve known that was coming. I was crimson with anger. First, at Bobbi for doing this to me. Second, at myself, because my sister was turning me on. “You know he doesn’t.”

“He doesn’t? But baby sister, all men want to fuck their girl in the ass sooner or later. What do you tell him?” She ground herself against my back as she spoke. I could feel that latex cock through her pants now, the length of it pressed firmly between my cheeks.

“I just tell him that I c-can’t, that it freaks me out.”

“But that’s not the real reason, is it?”

She’d run her fingers under the waistband of my thong, then suddenly gave it a violent yank to the side, tearing the bit of lace that ran over my hip and connected the front to the back. She effortlessly tugged the thong away, completely baring my bottom.

“That’s not the real reason,” she repeated, louder this time, “is it?”

“No.”

“What is the real reason?” As she talked she was inserting a leg between mine, gradually spreading my thighs further and further apart.

“It’s because… because of… you know, how we used to — you know.”

“It’s because your ass belongs to me, isn’t that it? To your big sister?”

A pause, then I mumbled, “Yes.”

“Because other people can have your cunt, but your ass is for me alone. Is that why?”

“Yes.”

As she talked she backed away from me a little, and I let myself believe that maybe she was done with me. Until I heard her zipper.

“Oh, God… Mommy, please don’t.”

“There. I was afraid you weren’t going to call me Mommy again.”

She fished in a pocket, then brought her hand around in front of me, where I could see it. She had a small bottle of lubricant in one hand, and she unscrewed the top and poured some onto her fingers.

“Please, Mommy. Please!”

“Shhh, now. We don’t want Mark to hear you. Imagine if he saw you like this? Holding your wedding dress up so your queer sister can fuck your ass. Of course he hasn’t. So let’s just be quiet so this stays our little secret, baby girl.”

She was behind me again, and I could hear her lubed hand sliding over her cock. Then she began to spread lubrication around the crack of my ass. My breath caught at her touch. I was on fire, I hated her, I wanted her. I wanted her to go away, to fuck off out of my life. And I wanted that finger inside me.

She put one hand back on my hip and the other on the back of my neck, pushing me over at the waist. She pressed my legs further and further apart until I was completely open for my sister. My cunt was dripping.

She draped my dress up over my back, which freed me to brace myself on the wall on either side of the mirror. Then I got what I most dreaded — and craved.

One finger slowly slid inside me, right up to the third knuckle. It probed around loosening my rectum for more, then was joined by another finger. I hadn’t felt this pressure, this warm, wonderful pressure, for four years — and it was stealing my breath away, causing my pussy to overflow.

She bent a bit at the knees, lowering the head of her girl-cock to my star. “I always loved you in heels like that. They put you at just the right height.”

I couldn’t help myself. “Please, Mommy,” I whimpered. But she knew perfectly well that it no longer meant please don’t.

The tip of her cock was pressing against my opening, the pressure slowly increasing in tiny steps. “Please what, baby girl? Please stop?”

I loved and hated that she was always so gentle about taking me. “No, Mommy.”

“What then, baby girl?” As we spoke, the tip slowly, ever so slowly, entered me.

“Please don’t stop, Mommy. Please… take me. Fuck me.”

As I said this, she gradually straightened at the knees and slid deeper and deeper.

“Of course I’ll fuck you, baby girl.” She began a soft pumping. “You knew I would fuck you.”

Harder.

“You knew it when I showed up.”

“Yes, Mommy. Oh, yes. God, yes.”

Harder.

Thrust.

Thrust.

“That’s my baby girl.”

Thrust.

“You love it when Mommy…”

Thrust.

“…fucks you…”

Thrust.

“…don’t you?”

Thrust.

Thrust.

“When Mommy…”

Thrust.

“…does you…”

Thrust.

“…in the ass.”

Thrust.

“Yes, Mommy. Ungh. Ungh. Please don’t, ungh, stop, Mommy. Oh. OH!”

Thrust.

“Oh, God.”

Thrust.

“Oh, God!”

She had me. She had me and she knew it, and I loved and hated that she knew it. Knew it like nobody else had ever known it, or ever would. Had known it, ever since Bobbi first seduced me when I was sixteen.

I was close to coming, and she knew exactly how close. She would draw my climax out of me as precisely as if she were performing brain surgery — pulling it out, but exactly how and when she wanted it. She was a master at the art of anal love.

I could still remember the first time my sister had done me that way. We’d been lovers for three months by then, starting when she coaxed me into bed one night. I was intoxicated by Bobbi, loved to spend hours with her, pleasuring each other the way only two girls can. Her kisses were sweet as wine, the taste of her cunt ambrosia. I didn’t care that she was a girl, or even that she was my sister — she made me feel so special, so loved.

Bobbi had already taken my virginity with her strap-on, so I was ready for more of the same that night when she fastened that silicone cock around her waist. But my big sister had other plans for me. She kissed me hungrily, then gazed deep into my eyes. “Nellie,” she crooned, “I want to introduce you to a new pleasure tonight. A new and… very special pleasure.”

She had me lie on a pillow, my hips elevated. I moaned as her hot, wet tongue trailed its way through the crack of my ass. Then I felt her fingers rubbing something slippery into my anal cleft. And suddenly my heart was throbbing as Bobbi placed the tip of her cock against the tight ring.

She was so tender, so gentle at first… slowly filling me with her easy strokes. But I soon hungered for more from her. Before long my sexy lesbian sister was really fucking my ass, pumping in and out at a faster and faster pace, pushing herself deeper inside me, driving me absolutely wild.

Those were the times when I called her “Mommy,” and she called me “baby girl.” Only when she fucked my ass. Our lovemaking was wonderful, but the anal sex we shared was beyond description — holy, even. Me, down on her bed on all fours, and Bobbi, her pelvis pressed against my butt, her cock deep in my asshole. Her cock inside me, moving deliciously in and out. Just like it was now, on my wedding day.

Her lips brushed my ear.

“Do you…”

Thrust.

“…want…”

Thrust.

Thrust.

“…to come for me…”

Thrust.

“baby girl?”

Thrust.

Thrust.

Thrust.

“Yes, oh, Mommy. Mmmm… Please, Mommy. Please let me come. Oh, Mommy.”

Her timing shifted. She was no longer rushing me to my orgasm. Don’t ask me how she did it, but she could always take me to within a few steps of the cliff, hold me there, and then carry me through those last few steps painfully slowly, a millimeter at a time.

But when I fell off… Oh, God, when I fell off. Stars, rockets, explosions – none of it could begin to describe where my sister could take me when she ass-fucked me.

Bobbi had me on the knife-edge, and was holding me there, suspended in… ecstasy.

“Baby girl, look at me.”

I opened my eyes and found hers in the mirror. She ever so slowly pulled out until only the tip of her cock was still in me… then ever so slowly, my sister entered me again, exactly — exactly! — enough to take me over the edge.

It started deep inside, and slowly grew until it was everywhere, until nothing existed but her cock, my mind, and my orgasm. I was in two places at once. I was racing off that cliff, accelerating as if rocket-propelled, yet completely aware of my surroundings, of her. I felt absolute abandon — yet felt it objectively, like an observer. My sister’s eyes were speaking to me as clearly as though they were carving her thoughts in stone, but I couldn’t tell what the words meant; they were in another language.

Legs shaking, heart pounding fit to burst, this long-lost friend of an orgasm churns on and on — grows, builds.

“That’s it, baby girl. Give it to me.”

Each breath a conscious decision. Peaking? No. Still rising. Barely able to stand, I want to fall against the mirror, but I can’t let go of Bobbi’s eyes.

A tear, stained with mascara, slides down my cheek and drops onto my dress. My beautiful, white wedding dress. Then another.

I’m shaking. I would fall down if I didn’t have her cock in my ass. Another tear. And another. They’re falling faster now. I’m falling faster now.

I rush forward into blackness.

When I came to, the only thing holding me up was her arms. That and her cock, still buried in my rectum.

She slowly withdrew from me, then lowered me into a chair. I couldn’t control my legs yet. They were splayed wide, my pussy still fully exposed.

Bobbi knelt before me and kissed my cunt, pressing her face between my thighs, her tongue plunging into my vagina. Then she pulls away, taking me in her arms, her mouth claiming mine.

My sister kissed me gently at first, then her tongue slid between my lips. The taste of my cunt on Bobbi’s lips has my head spinning. I responded in kind, kissing my sister as hotly as I used to do.

My God, how I adore her. It’s like she never left, and I’m still her devoted sex toy. I’m already plunging headfirst into madness, throbbing with desire, wondering if I have enough time to go down on Bobbi before the ceremony begins.

Finally pulling away, she reached out and rested her hand against my cheek.

“I have to go, Nellie.”

A still, calm pause.

“I know,” I whisper.

A longer pause.

“I want you to be happy with Mark, you know.”

“I know.”

“But I’ll still come back someday, and fuck you again. I’ll have to.”

“Yes. You will.”

“I’ll have to.”

“I know that.”

She looked into the mirror, checking God knows what. Her hair is too short to get messed up, and she doesn’t wear makeup. She crossed to the door and opened it. She hesitated, then turned back, hesitated again, and finally said, “I love you, baby sister. I always will.”

“I know. I love you too.”

The door closes, and she is gone.

The End

by Candy Kane

{ This story was originally posted at The Nifty Archive in February 1999 }

My name is Julie and I’m a typical sixteen-year-old girl, bored and horny. It was Saturday morning and my parents were away for the weekend. I had already masturbated once before I got up and again in the shower, but it didn’t help much. I needed something besides my fingers between my legs. Then the phone rang; it was our neighbor asking if I could babysit her twelve-year-old daughter, Kim, until Sunday night.

“Sure,” I said, thinking of what I could do with the $25.00 that I’d be getting.

Kim was a pretty girl, her legs were long and shapely and she had long blond hair that came down to the middle of her back. She was always smiling, and when I saw her around the neighborhood, she would wave and say hello.

Kim arrived at noon with her overnight bag in hand. After lunch, we decided to lie around our backyard pool and work on our tans. It was a hot summer day and the pool would be a great way to stay cool and have some fun.

Our backyard was enclosed with a privacy fence and I liked to sunbathe in the nude when I was alone. So after Kim and I pulled a couple of cushions off two lounges and placed them a few feet apart on the deck, I slipped my bikini top off without even thinking of asking her if she minded. She was wearing a two-piece as well and she glanced over at my bare breasts and said, “I think I’ll take my top off too, Okay, Julie?”

“Best way to get a good tan,” I said. As I watched her, I realized she had great skin. Her breasts were small but forming nicely; she had adorable little pink nipples. I felt a tingle of excitement at the sight of Kim’s body but wrote it off as just being a teenager in a constant state of arousal. She obviously sunbathed in the nude too; she had no tan lines. I enjoyed watching her wiggle her ass around on the cushion to get comfortable. Things were looking up, I thought, and decided to take a gamble and see how she reacted.

“Kim,” I said. “I normally lay out here nude when I’m by myself. Since it’s just us girls, do you mind if I take my bottom off?”

She smiled. “Only if I can, too.”

“Hey, great.” I hooked my thumbs under the sides of my bikini, and a second later I was naked. As I tossed it aside, I noticed the crotch was wet. My pussy was way ahead of my fantasies, I thought.

Kim was laying on her back and she brought her legs up and slipped her bikini off. When she did, I got a revealing look at her ripe, young sex. It was perfectly shaped: a hint of a mound with delicate lips that flaring out slightly at the bottom, and a trace of blond fuzz. I had to admit, seeing this little girl’s pussy was a turn-on and the idea of being alone with her for the weekend made my whole body tingle. I slid my hand down to my crotch to confirm I was definitely wet.

Kim saw me touch myself and her eyes lingered on my pussy after I took my hand away. Then she smiled and turned over on her stomach, her head resting on her arms.

I didn’t want to seem like I was staring but I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Her ass was flawlessly rounded and her cute toes begged to be sucked. Her skin was tanned the color of light copper and her blond hair flowed like liquid gold down across her shoulders. The more I looked, the more aroused I got.

***

I had never made it with a girl before. Well, not technically anyway. I had a girl finger me in a swimming pool once when I was twelve. We were on family vacation and I had made friends with this girl at a motel pool. Her name was Sara, and she was a couple of years older than me. We hit it off right away and spent the afternoon sunbathing, talking and laughing. It was getting dark and my dad told me I had to come up soon and get ready to go to dinner. After he and mom went to our room, there was no one left in the pool so Sara and I decided to go for one last swim.

We floated around for a while and then she said she felt like doing something crazy. I said like what? She said like skinny-dipping. I told her she was nuts; someone would see us. She said there was no one around, and besides, it would be fun. She unhooked the catch on the front of her top and playfully flashed me her breasts, daring me to show her mine. Then she took her top off, slipped out of her bottom, and laid both on the edge of the pool.

I was wearing a string bikini and the water was deep enough to cover my breasts. There were little bows on my hips that held my bottom on and a bow in the front that kept my top in place. Sara pulled the string between my breasts and the material fell away. Before I could cover back up, she sank under the water and untied the bows on my hips. With a broad smile, she surfaced with my bikini bottom in her hand. I tried to grab it but she tossed it on the ledge beside hers. A second later, she did the same with my top. Then, with a wink, she turned and dove under. When I saw her bare ass, I decided, why not?

We splashed around and chased each other for a while, giggling at how naughty we were. Then I got nervous that my dad would come down and catch us so I told Sara I had to put my suit back on. I swam over to the ledge, but before I could reach for it, she came up and kissed me on the mouth. I asked her why she did it and she said that I was sexy and really turned her on. She told me she wished she were a boy because she wanted to fuck me. Then she kissed me again, this time a long French kiss and I felt her hand between my legs.

I was so stunned I didn’t know what to do. Before I could react, her finger was inside me.

My heart jumped when she found my clitoris. In no time I was breathing hard and trying to hold on to the side of the pool. She pressed her body against mine and continued to French kiss me while she finger-fucked me.

At twelve years old, I was already masturbating at least once a day, but this was the first time anyone had ever done it for me. It didn’t take long for her to make me come. It was my first real sex with another person and I loved it. After I managed to catch my breath, I begged her to do it to me again. She smiled and said she had a better idea: could I sneak out of my room and meet her later that night? She promised that if I did, she would make me come with her mouth. My pussy quivered at the thought of her licking it. I almost died when I remembered I was supposed to go with my parents to visit relatives that night. She said that was too bad because she could show me how much fun girls can have with each other.

Reluctantly, we put our suits back on. Before she left, Sara kissed me goodbye and gave my pussy one last caress through the thin material of my bikini. Then she swam over to the ladder. I wanted her so bad I cried as I watched her go.

“Don’t forget me,” she said climbing out. I never did.

***

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not exactly a lesbian. I’ve already let a couple of boys get between my legs. But I’ve always wondered what it would have felt like to have sex with Sara. I broke up with my last boyfriend over three weeks ago. And he was just getting to where he could fuck me without shooting off in the first ten seconds. Since then, the only sex I’d had was with the five lovers on the end of my hand. So as horny as I was, the thought of spending the weekend alone with Kim definitely made my mouth water and my pussy wet. Suddenly, her voice shook me out of my dreamy state.

“Julie, will you rub lotion on me?”

I felt a rush of heat through my body realizing she had asked me to touch her. “Sure, Kim,” I said. “But you’ve got to promise you’ll do me, too.”

I couldn’t believe I’d said that. Did she realize what I really meant? Did she know the sight of her naked body was setting me on fire? If she did, she showed no reaction.

I shoved my cushion up next to hers and opened the bottle of suntan lotion. My thigh pressed against the side of her leg as I knelt down and I felt the heat from her skin. I was nervous as I squirted out a small amount of lotion onto my palm. I rubbed my hands together and applied the coconut-scented liquid to her back.

Her skin was even softer than I imagined. I babied it, moving my hands in slow circles over her shoulders and down her back and sides. Kim stretched her arms out over her head and I leaned forward to rub the lotion on them. My breasts touched her back and my nipples hardened against her warm skin.

She kept her eyes closed but I saw a bit of a smile as my nipples lightly brushed across her back. I repositioned myself to get at her legs while my gaze stayed on her ass. Would she let me touch it? Rub lotion into her crack? Between her legs? Or would she get scared and run away?

I babied her feet; pampering them and running my fingers between each perfect little toe. All I could think about was putting them in my mouth. Eventually I moved up her calves to the back of her legs behind her knees. I hoped she liked being touched there as much as I did. Then I moved on to the back of her thighs, getting ever closer to her ass. By now my pussy was so wet that I smelled my arousal. I wondered if Kim could too.

Well, here goes, I thought. I squirted a little lotion onto my palm and placed both hands on her ass. Lightly, I rubbed the sides first and worked my way inward.

“Mmmm,” Kim said. “That feels so good, Julie. You do it just like Janet.”

“Who’s Janet?” I said, taken by surprise.

“My girlfriend. We sunbathe together a lot and she loves rubbing lotion all over me. She’s such a tease.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Oh, you know. She likes to put her hand between my legs and play with me. Sometimes I think she’s a lez but she swears she likes boys too. Anyway, you’d like Janet a lot.”

“I’m sure I would,” I said, not believing my ears. Kim lets her girlfriend touch her? I knew immediately I’d died and gone to heaven. The prospect of having sex was looking better all the time. If I couldn’t have a nice hard dick inside me, Kim’s tongue would do just fine.

I put a few more drops of lotion on my palm and rubbed it across her ass cheeks. As my fingertips slipped into her crack, Kim spread her legs. Slowly, I traced the inside of her crack stopping for a moment when my fingertip found her little anus, so puckered and tight, and so inviting. My heart was pounding and I was sure she could hear it. I moved my hand down and rubbed the lotion along her inner thighs. Holding my breath, I let my finger touch her. She was soft; her pussy lips felt like delicate flower petals. It took everything I could do not to penetrate her.

My head was spinning. All I could think about was making love to her. Finally, I realized I had covered every inch of the back of her body with lotion. There was no reason to continue without being accused of sexually molesting a minor. Then Kim turned over and smiled up at me. She stretched out her arms and said, “Do my front, Julie.”

“Do you like it when your girlfriend plays with you?” I asked.

“I love it,” she said, closing her eyes. “It feels really good and it’s so much fun.”

“Do you ever, you know, play with her?”

“Sure. But mostly I just let Janet do whatever she wants. And most of the time, all she wants to do is put her fingers in me.” She giggled and ran her hand down between her legs. I watched in fascination as she rubbed herself.

“Janet sleeps over a lot on the weekends,” she continued. “After my mom goes to bed, we stay up late and watch TV. Janet loves making out so we lay on the couch and do that a lot.”

“Has your mom ever caught you?”

“Yeah, once after school. Janet came over and we were up in my room. My mom came home early and walked in on us.”

“What were you doing?” I asked. My pussy was throbbing.

“We were laying on my bed making out and Janet had her hand in my panties.”

“Did your mom get upset?”

“At first she did. But later she said it was just a phase girls went through and that she did it when she was young too. She said we should just be careful.”

“Careful?”

“You know, that if we were going to experiment, we should only do it with each other, not with boys and wind up getting pregnant.”

I was mesmerized by the innocent way Kim described having sex with her girlfriend and I wondered if she had any idea how turned on she was making me.

Then Kim said, “But my mom really couldn’t say too much when she caught us.”

“Why is that,” I asked

“Well, because there’s a girl that my mom works with that comes over sometimes. They drink a lot of wine and hug and kiss, and sometimes she sleeps over with my mom. I can hear them through the wall. I know they’re experimenting just like Janet and me.”

She touched herself again. Then she said, “Once, Janet was over and my mom and her girlfriend were in the next room. We got really turned on listening to them and Janet said we should take our clothes off and go get in bed with them. You know, maybe they would let us watch or something. We almost did it but chickened out at the last minute.” Kim giggled and said, “But we still took our clothes off and had lots of fun playing with each other.”

I had never been so turned on in my life. My pussy was soaked, and ached so much it hurt as I pressed my legs together.

Taking a deep breath, I put more lotion on my hands and placed them on her stomach, first rubbing her hips and sides. Would she let me touch her breasts? I slowly moved closer to those ripe little mounds. I’d already touched her ass, and for a brief instant, her pussy. And she told me she let her girlfriend do it all the time. So why not? Acting like it was the most natural thing in the world for a girl to do to another girl, I rubbed my slippery hands over her breasts. Her nipples turned into little hard buds as I played with them between my fingers.

Kim smiled. “That feels really nice, Julie.”

As I continued to run my hands over her chest and stomach, my eyes wandered down to that heavenly spot between her legs. I moved down her stomach until I touched her little patch of fuzz and played with its velvety texture for a moment. Then I rubbed her inner thigh. She closed her eyes and spread her legs letting me know I could keep going. Slowly I moved my hand up until I was touching her. I had to go slow, not frighten her off, so I lightly rubbed her just enough to apply the lotion. Her reaction was a soft moan as she spread her legs further apart.

I cupped her pussy and gently stroked it, my middle finger sliding along her slit. Then I let it ease in between her folds. She was so warm and wet, and she responded by pushing against my hand. I watched her face as my finger disappeared inside her. My other hand was already busy between my own legs.

Kim opened her mouth and sighed, bringing a hand up to play with her nipple. Then she turned her head so she could watch me masturbate. At that moment, I think we both knew we were going to make love. She reached between my legs and put her hand on mine, playing with my fingers as I worked them in and out of my hole.

“I like to do that too,” she said. “I do it a lot.”

I was about to increase my rhythm when she said, “Julie?”

“Yes, sweetheart.”

“Can I do you now?”

Another thirty seconds and I could have made us both come. But I stopped and reluctantly took my finger out of her. “Okay, Kim,” I said breathlessly.

I lay back on my cushion and brought my finger to my nose. A wave of forbidden excitement swept over me as I smelled her and realized I wanted to have sex with this little girl more than anything.

She got up and knelt beside me, squirted some lotion on her palms and rubbed them together. Then she started massaging my feet, playing with my toes like I had hers. “What are you thinking about?” she asked after a moment.

“A movie I saw once. It was about an American girl who took a trip to Japan. One day she went to get a massage from a Geisha girl.”

“What’s a Geisha girl?” Kim asked, spreading the lotion along my legs.

“A Geisha Girl is one who likes to please others,” I said. “Anyway, when they were alone, they took off all their clothes and the American girl lay on her back. The Geisha was going to rub lotion on the girl but instead of using her hands, she put the lotion on her own body. Then she laid on top of the American girl and rubbed it all over her.”

Kim thought for a moment. “Wow, that sounds like fun. Can I do it to you?”

“I was hoping you’d want to,” I said as my heart raced.

Kim knelt between my feet. Then she held the bottle up and squirted a generous amount on her chest and breasts. After she spread it around, she crawled toward me until her breasts were over my hips. She lowered herself down and started a slow back and forth motion applying the lotion with her breasts across my stomach. “Like this?” she said, smiling up at me.

“Just like that, sweetheart.” My breathing quickened when our nipples touched; her soft breasts pressed into mine.

When we were face-to-face, she asked, “So were they lesbians?”

“Who,” I said, not able to think straight.

“The two girls, silly.”

“No, not the American,” I said. “She had a boyfriend and they were always screwing. But she was definitely bisexual because she really got off with the massage. I think the Geisha girl was probably a lesbian, though.”

“So what did they do next?”

“Well,” I said, looking into her beautiful blue eyes. “They kissed.”

“Have you ever kissed a girl?” Kim asked, never stopping her slow, side-to-side movement.

“Yes,” I said.

“Janet and I kiss a lot.” She shifted her hips over so our pussies were pressing into each other’s thighs. With no attempt to hide it, she was humping my leg as we masturbated each other.

“Kissing a girl is nice,” she said in a dreamy voice. “It’s so soft, a lot softer than kissing a boy.” Kim moved her hips faster. “And after they kissed,” she asked, her breathing now more rapid, “what did they do?”

“The Geisha girl turned around so they were in a sixty-nine and they made love.” I was finding it hard to speak now as we ground into each other.

“Did you make love to the girl you kissed?”

“No.”

“Did you want to?”

“At the time, I didn’t really know what making love was. Not the way two girls do it, anyway.” I could feel my climax building, my stomach sucked in and out. My back arched and pushed harder onto her thigh.

“And now? Do you know how two girls make love?”

“Yes.”

She paused for a moment, then whispered, “Can we do it, Julie? You and me?”

“Kim, sweetheart, that’s all I’ve wanted to do since you got here.” I pulled her face to mine and we kissed hard and deep, her golden hair falling down all over my face. She tasted so sweet and her body felt heavenly on top of me. The intensity of our mutual masturbation increased and it took only a minute more for us to climax together. I felt her warm juice flow out onto my leg as Kim’s body stiffened. Her head jerked back and she closed her eyes tight, grinding herself into my thigh as hard as she could. At the same time she pushed her leg down causing my pussy to spasm in ecstasy.

We lay in each other’s arms for a long time trying to catch our breaths. Then we kissed, this time a soft kiss that seemed to go on forever. Our lips were like feathers lightly brushing each other, our tongues dancing a slow dance together.

Finally, Kim said, “Let’s go for a swim.”

“Okay,” I said and we got up and walked to the edge of the pool. I waited for her to dive in first so I could get a glimpse of her cunt lips between her legs. Then I jumped in and swam after her. We were lovers: touching, hugging, kissing, and laughing. We would take turns swimming between each other’s legs and Kim would tickle my pussy on her way through. We chased each other, splashing and wrestling. When our bodies pressed together, it was incredible. She swam away and suddenly come up in front of me, throwing her arms around my neck and planting kisses all over my face.

“What’s that for?” I asked.

“Because you make me feel soooo good.” Then she giggled and swam away teasing me to chase her.

“Let’s get out and go inside,” I said the next time I had her in my arms.

Kim eagerly agreed and swam over to the ladder. She climbed up but stopped halfway to bend over and ring out her long hair. I was right behind and her perfect little bottom was only inches from my face. Unable to resist, I kissed both cheeks and ran my tongue inside her crack, finding her anus. She let out an adorable little laugh and smiled back at me. “I like it when you do that, Julie. Will you do it when we make love?”

“I’ll do it until you beg me to stop, sweetheart.”

“Maybe I won’t want you to stop.” Then she wiggled her ass in my face and scooting up the ladder.

My heart was racing as we toweled off. Then I took her hand and we walked across the patio to the house. I saw our reflection in the glass sliding doors: two naked girls hand-in-hand, hot for each other and about to have sex. It was so erotic it made me dizzy. Kim saw our reflection too and slipped her arm around my waist, leaning in to give my nipple a playful kiss.

We went upstairs to my bedroom and Kim waited while I closed the shades. I tuned my stereo to a soft rock station and went to her. She put her arms around my neck and pressed her delicate body to mine. Looking up at me, Kim closed her eyes and opened her mouth in invitation. We kissed passionately, our eager tongues trying to taste everything at once. Then I laid down on the bed and pulled her on top of me, kissing her mouth, face, eyes; all that I could.

We softly touched and caressed, snuggled and hugged, our bodies pressed tight, our legs entwined; we breathed the same air and drank the moisture from each other’s mouths. I smelled her hair, her neck, her arms; everything about her sent waves of excitement through me. I ran my hands down her back and over her bottom. My finger found her anus and I gently probed until it started to let me in.

She moved her hips making her pussy meet mine and I sucked in a deep breath when I felt the heat between her legs.

I was eating her face now, licking and kissing everything. Kim answered my hungry mouth with anxious kisses.

I rolled her over on her back and she opened her legs giving herself to me completely. I moved to her left nipple, and the second I took it in my mouth, she arched her back and wrapped her legs around my waist.

I went from one nipple to the other leaving a wet trail in between. Then I continued my slow journey down her body first exploring her navel with my tongue and then biting and kissing her soft patch of fuzz.

She spread her legs more as I loved her inner thighs with my tongue. Her hips bucked and she tried to maneuver herself to my mouth. All I could smell was her sex and I found it more sensual than any perfume. I was dizzy with the thought of making this little girl give off the fragrance of an aroused woman. I didn’t have to touch her to know she was soaked. Her lips were flared open, gorged with arousal and ready for sex; they glistened with moisture. Her clitoris stuck out hard and erect like it was about to burst. I was determined to take her to the heights of ecstasy and make it last as long as I could. So without touching her sex, I kissed and licked all around it.

I worked my way down the inside of her legs to her ankles. Then I got on my knees, took her right foot and placed it on my left breast. While she used her toes to play with my hard, swollen nipple, I kissed and licked her other foot.

Her little toes were so adorable with their bright cherry red nails. I slid my tongue between each one then sucked them like candy. Kim tried to masturbate but I made her take her hand away. “Not yet, honey. Besides, that’s my job.”

“You’re so mean,” she said, going back to playing with her breasts.

After I finished her right foot, I swapped it with the other and started over. Her wet toes on my sensitive nipple sent shock waves straight down between my legs.

“Julie,” she said between moans. “You’re making me crazy. I need you to eat me now.”

“Patience, sweet baby.”

“If you’re not going to do me, then I’m not going to play with you anymore.” She pretended to pout and took her foot off my breast but I grabbed it and placed it on my crotch. I was flowing like a river and her big toe easily slid inside quickly finding my erect clitoris. Now we were both playing dirty, I thought.

After a few delicious minutes of sucking her toes while she fucked my pussy, I realized I was going to come if I didn’t slow. Then Kim said, “Please, Julie, I can’t wait. I need you here, now.” With a gesture of urgency, she pointed between her legs.

The fragrance of her arousal was so strong, it made me light-headed. I could tell from her rapid breathing and the rolling motion of her pelvis that she was more than ready to fuck.

I took her foot from my pussy. Her toes were covered with my juice and I licked each one clean. I loved the taste of my own honey; the most erotic part of masturbating was licking the juice from my fingers afterwards. I often wondered what another girl would taste like. Now, I was about to find out.

I started licking and kissing my way back up the inside of her legs, taking my time, enjoying the sensation of her young skin on my lips. Then I lay down between her legs and blew on her slit placing little kisses on each side of it.

“Oh, please, Julie.” she whispered, pushing on the back of my head. “Please lick me now.”

“You’re only a minute away from heaven, sweet baby,” I said. Then I covered her pussy with my mouth and shoved my tongue in as deep as I could. She cried out as she clamped her legs around me like she would never let go.

Eating Kim was the most sensual thing I had ever done. I couldn’t get enough of her: the salty taste of her skin; the softness of her inner thighs pressed against the sides of my face; the tickle of her adolescent fuzz on my nose; the fresh smell of her young sex; the tenderness of her fingers in my hair; the childlike cries of pleasure; her beautiful body responding to my every touch. I wanted to stay there forever.

Her slender hips followed the rhythm of my tongue and she positioned herself so I could penetrate her as deep as possible. As her pelvic thrusts increased, I concentrated on sucking her clitoris while I slid a finger in her. When it was covered with her juice, I played with her anus. This time, my slippery finger easily penetrated her warm rectum.

Kim went wild emitting little grunts and yelps as she bucked against my face. She brought her legs up and grabbed the back of her knees. With her toes pointed at the ceiling, she spread herself wide open. Her moans got louder until she cried and laughed at the same time. Her honey thickened and her pussy walls started to spasm-I knew she was getting ready to climax.

Suddenly, she stiffened. “Oh, Julie! Here it comes!” Her juice ran into my mouth and down my chin, dripping into her crack. I tried to lap up every drop.

Without slowing down, I sucked her clitoris while working my finger completely up into her ass. She had two more short, quick orgasms in a row before I slowed. Finally, her body relaxed, her legs came down at my sides and she went limp. I looked up and saw her eyes closed, her tongue slowly licking her lips. She stroked my hair as her breathing normally.

Her body was covered with sweat and her scent was everywhere. I moved up beside her and propped up on my elbow. Stroking her radiant face, so flushed with sex, I whispered, “How’s my sweet lover?”

“Oh, Julie,” she whispered. Then she turned on her side and touched my face. We kissed and she said, “I can taste myself on your lips.” Then we kissed again.

For a while, we just let our hands caress our bodies, saying with a touch what words could not. Kim gently played with my nipples, my navel, and pubic hair as we stared into each other’s eyes. With my fingertip I traced the edge of her ear, her cheek, her lips. Then she said, “Let’s make love again. This time, let’s do it like in that movie you told me about. Remember, when the girls did the sixty-nine?”

“I think that would be very nice,” I said, kissing her softly. Then I rolled on my back and helped Kim get up and swing her leg over me. She backed up until her ass was over my face. Bringing my knees up, I spread my legs and felt her long hair fall down between my thighs. Looking up, I opened her with my fingers. Then I wrapped my arms around her hips and pulled her to me.

Kim tenderly kissed my folds and explored them with the tip of her tongue. I pushed my nose into her crack as I licked her, savoring the tangy taste, the musky smell, and sexy heat of her tight little bottom. She opened me up with her fingers and went right to my swollen clitoris, taking it between her lips and loving it with her tongue. As she did, she wet her finger with my juice and slipped it into my ass. The combination of her tongue and finger moving inside me blinded me with passion.

We held on tight and buried our faces between each other’s legs. Muffled cries and the smell of sex filled the air. At that moment, the room faded and there was nothing else in the world but two girls making love.

***

It was almost dark when I awoke. Kim looked like an angel asleep beside me. Her breathing was slow and relaxed, her face a picture of bliss.

We had made love for hours that afternoon, trying any way we could think of to please each other. Kim sat on my face and squirt her honey into my mouth. Then we lay pussy to pussy in a scissors position rubbing our wet clits against each other. She lay on her stomach and let me eat her from behind, and we tried the sixty-nine again, this time with me on top. Each time was better than the last as we became experienced lovers discovering new ways to make each other climax. At some point, out of sheer exhaustion, we fell asleep in each other’s arms.

I lay and watched her for a long time before I gently put my hand between her legs. Still asleep, she instinctively spread herself. Then she opened her eyes and turned her face to me. With a smile, she said, “What a nice way to wake up.” Kim pulled me to her and we kissed. Her mouth was so soft and warm. “Promise you’ll always wake me like that?” she said.

“What if I want to use my tongue?”

“Mmmm, even better.”

We French kissed as I moved my finger inside her. She responded by pushing against my hand with her hips. “Did you have nice wet dreams?” I asked.

“Yes, they were all about making love with you.” Within seconds, Kim’s breathing increased and her pelvis moved faster. “I want to fuck some more,” she said, running her tongue into my mouth.

I rolled on my back. “Come here, honey,” I said, making Kim sit up. She quickly realized what I wanted and straddled my head positioning her pussy over my mouth. She was already soaked, her clitoris stuck out like a tiny penis.

I sank my tongue into her and reached around to find her anus. She was humping my face faster and faster in long movements and then short, quick bursts. Then she leaned back and cried out, her warm honey flowing into my mouth. She had gone from being asleep to climaxing in less than two minutes.

Slowly, Kim rolled off me and lay with her back to me. While I casually fingered myself, I lay on my side and kissed the back of her legs and her bottom, drunk with the sweet smell of her sex. After a moment, she raised her leg so I could kiss her pussy from behind and I realized she wanted to fuck again. “Sweet baby, you’re insatiable.” I gave her pussy a loving kiss and propped up on my elbow.

“If insatiable means I want you to eat me some more, you’re right,” Kim said. She sat up and smiled at me.

“I intend to, sweetheart,” I said, taking her face in my hands, kissing her. “But first, I’m thirsty. How about you?”

“Very.”

I took her right hand and held it in mine. “Is this the lucky one?” I asked, kissing her middle finger.

“What do you mean by lucky one?”

“The one you use to love yourself with?”

“Oh,” she said blushing. “You mean when I masturbate.”

I put her finger in my mouth and slowly stroked it with my tongue until it was nice and wet. Then I guided it down between her legs. “Keep it warm for me,” I said, hopping off the bed and heading down to the kitchen. I looked back to see Kim’s eyes already closed, her finger moving in little delicate circles around her clitoris.

The first thing I spotted in the refrigerator was a half-full bottle of wine. I grabbed it and a glass, and ran back up the stairs. I could smell her all over me. It made me so turned-on, I felt my juice dripping down the inside of my legs.

When I walked in the bedroom, the scent of our lovemaking almost knocked me over. Kim had positioned herself on her back with her legs spread so I could see what she was doing. She was so beautiful I wanted to forget the wine and dive right in between her legs.

“I missed you so,” she said, bringing her finger up to her lips. “It’s just not the same as your tongue.” Then she giggled and sat up. “What did you bring me?”

“Do you like wine?” I said, sitting on the bed next to her.

“I love it. My mom always keeps some in the frig and Janet and I sneak a sip sometimes.”

Kim scooted over until she sat on my lap, her legs wrapped around my waist, little drops of honey from her wet pussy dripping down on mine. I poured some wine in the glass and we took turns drinking.

“This is good,” Kim said.

I took another sip. Holding a little in my mouth, I pulled her to me. She instinctively opened her mouth and I let the wine flow from mine into hers as we kissed.

“The wine makes me feel really warm and sexy,” Kim said as our kiss ended and she swallowed the liquid. She put her arms around my neck, her adolescent breasts resting on top of mine. “Do you think I’m sexy, Julie?”

“I think you’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. Sexy enough to eat,” I said, nibbling her neck.

“I want another drink.”

I poured a little more into the glass but she tapped her finger on my lips. “No, silly,” she said. “I want it from here.”

I took a sip and she opened her lips to receive my kiss. This time we passed the liquid back and forth a few times before she swallowed it. Then she slipped her hand between my legs. “Now I want to drink what comes out of here,” she said, putting her finger in me.

“You mean you’re still thirsty?” I asked.

“Yeah, for some Julie juice.” She laughed out loud at her little joke. Then she took the wine bottle and said, “I’ll show you something cool Janet taught me.”

Kim slid off my lap. I watched in fascination as this adorable little angel got up on her knees and spread them apart. She placed the bottle between her legs and slowly eased herself down on its lip. Guiding the bottle with one hand, she used her other to play with her clit. Her breathing soon quickened and I could see her fingers were getting wet. Then she used both hands to spread herself open wide.

Another wave of arousal swept over me watching this incredibly erotic act as the lip of the bottle slipped inside her. When it was in about two inches, she moved up and down very slowly. As she fucked the bottle, she continued stroking herself.

I couldn’t take my eyes off it sliding in and out of her as I heard her breathing increase. Suddenly, she gasped and her body quivered. She closed her eyes and I saw honey flow out of her and down the neck of the bottle. I was so turned on, I almost fell over. My heart pounded.

Then she took the bottle from between her legs and handed it to me. “Want a taste?”

I took it and touched it to my lips. It was sticky and slightly sweet like honey but with a touch of salt from the sweat of her crotch. I savored every drop as I licked the lip and neck clean. Then I tipped it up and took a long drink.

“So now that you’ve had both, what do you like more, me or the wine?” she said.

“I don’t think I could ever get enough of you.”

Kim giggled that sweet laugh I’d already come to adore. It was so cute and soft, so full of innocence and yet provocative at the same time. God, she was soooo sexy. Before the night was over, I was going to lick and kiss every inch of this little piece of girl-candy. But first, I decided to put her through her own brand of turn-on.

I got up on my knees, spread my legs and stroked my pussy. My fingers slid in and out, teasing my clitoris. I was already wet from watching her fuck the bottle so it took only a moment for me to be ready. I positioned the lip of the bottle between my legs and let it slide into me. I was soaked and there was no resistance as four inches disappeared. Then I masturbated.

Kim leaned back on her heels, spread her legs and fingered herself while she watched. Every so often, she would switch hands and lick the juice off her fingers. When I came, I felt a flood of my honey flow out and down the bottle’s neck. My chest was heaving and my body glistened with perspiration as I took the bottle and handed it to her.

She locked her eyes on mine and put the bottle to her lips. “Delicious,” she said, licking the neck like a Popsicle melting in the heat. When she had cleaned it off, she tipped it up and took a drink.

I leaned forward and took her face in my hands kissing her. She kissed me back and then I took the bottle and glass and sat them on the nightstand. “Sweetheart,” I said. “I’ve got to go pee. Lay down and I’ll be right back.”

“Julie, can I watch?”

“What?”

“Please,” she begged.

“Why do you want to watch?”

“Because I like to. I promise it’ll be fun. Janet and I watch each other pee all the time.”

“I’ve got to meet this Janet,” I said, taking Kim’s hand, leading her to the bathroom. “So you just want to watch me?” I stood next to the toilet.

“Sit down and spread your legs,” Kim said. “You’ll love what I’m going to do, I promise.”

I did what she asked. Then my lover knelt down in front of me and put her hand between my legs. She stroked my pussy, still wet and sticky from the bottle.

“Don’t pee yet,” she said, playing with my slit. Soon, I felt one of her delicate little fingers inside me and then two. She found my clitoris and started rubbing it. I could feel it swell up and come out of its hiding place. I had to pee badly, and yet this was so wonderfully nasty having her hand between my legs and her fingers inside me. I started breathing hard as I felt yet another climax building. I put my hands on her shoulders for support.

She smiled up at me and said, “Okay, do it.”

A flood of liquid shot out of me just as I came. I looked down and watched her rubbing me, the hot golden urine squirting on her hand. It was so erotic and one of the best climaxes I’d ever had. I leaned over and kissed her, running my tongue into her mouth to find hers. When I was done, she giggled and got up. Rinsing her hand off in the sink, she took a washcloth, wet it, and wiped me clean. “I told you you’d like it,” she said with a big smile.

“God, did I.” I kissed her all over her face.

“Now, my turn. I’ve got to pee too.”

I stood up and let Kim take my place on the toilet. She spread her little legs wide and I knelt in front of her. I reached out and stroked her pussy, letting my finger slip into her hole. She smiled at my touch and placed her hands on my shoulders.

“Do you and Janet do this a lot?” I asked.

“Yeah. It’s one of our games.”

“What are some of the others?”

“Sometimes when we’re alone, we take all our closes off and slow dance. N & N we call it; naked and nasty.”

“That sounds sexy. What else?”

“Sometimes we go into a stall in the girls bathroom at school and make out. Then, when we’ve got each other wet, we switch panties.”

“Sounds like you and Janet have a lot of fun together.”

“We do, but Janet doesn’t put her mouth on my hole like you do. Maybe you could show her how. You could teach Janet how you and I make love, and then the three of us could do it together.”

“Great,” I said, kissing her. I felt her body responding to my strokes. My thumb found her little love button and it got hard just like her nipples did when I touched them. I was so excited at being able to please her. I couldn’t wait to get her back in bed so I could bury my face between her legs and take her to heaven again.

Kim tilted her head back and closed her eyes. I watched her stomach suck in and out. She gritted her teeth and said, “Oh Julie, here I come.”

With a gush, she let go and a stream of urine shot out. It was so hot washing over my hand. She was bucking my fingers now, trying to get every bit of pleasure out of them.

I rubbed her pussy until all the urine was out. Then I kissed her and got up to wash my hands. I came back with the cloth soaked in warm water and cleaned her.

I kissed her again and said, “So you think we should see if Janet can come over?”

“Yes,” she said with a big smile. She threw her arms around my neck. “You’re gonna love her.”

“I already do,” I said. A new wave of erotic excitement swept through me as we went to the phone. Two fresh young girls to make love to in one night. I was in heaven.

I played with Kim’s pussy while she called Janet and told her everything. After a few minutes she hung up and smiled at me. “She’s coming,” Kim said. “And she can’t wait for the three of us to do it.”

“Speaking of coming,” I said. “Let’s see if I can make you come one more time before Janet gets here.”

With a tiny squeal, Kim ran across the room and dove onto the bed. By the time I joined her, she already had her legs spread for me.

The End

by PanWhoWrites

Note from JetBoy: The plot of this one is a bit unusual… so you might want to either read or recap Part One before taking on the second and final part. A most clever twist on lesbian incest fiction!

***

Rebecca

I should start by pointing out that I’m not a lesbian. Maybe Brianna is, but not me. I just… I was just trying to be a good teacher, trying to teach my older sister how to kiss. I swear.

It wasn’t my fault that it turned into a few hours of making out, okay? And afterwards, when I heard Bri getting off, I joined in because… well, it would be rude not to. Right? I didn’t want to give her, like, bad self-esteem or whatever. But I swear, I’m not a lesbian.

The next day was awkward. We awoke, dressed, and went to school without saying anything. The tension was so obvious at breakfast that even Mom picked up on it.

“What happened?” she kept asking, looking between the two of us. “What happened? Tell your mother… you can trust your mother. Tell mother what happened. Tell Mom what happened.”

I knew that I could trust Mom, and that I could talk to her about anything, even sexual stuff… especially sexual stuff. But I didn’t even understand what had happened yet. I wanted to run through it in my own head before I even thought about talking about it with my mother.

Mom dropped us off, we went our separate ways, and we didn’t see each other again until that afternoon, when we both got home. We headed to our room, and stripped out of our school uniforms.

Now, normally Bri and I would unclothe separately, in different rooms. Normally we’d do it at different times, or at least one of us would go and change in the bathroom, but on that day, the day after we… the day after I taught Bri how to kiss, we undressed at the same time, in the same room, without ever breaking eye contact.

It was while we were stripping that I started to admit a few things, even if only to myself.

While Bri was peeling off her stockings, I finally confessed, in my own brain, that yes, I’d brought myself off twice last night, just thinking about her body, thinking about how her lips had felt, and about how much I’d enjoyed her roaming hands, touching my legs and my waist and my ass and my boobs.

While Bri was unbuttoning her blouse, I admitted to myself that I’d drifted off at least three times today in class, imagining us doing the same thing (and more) without our nighties on. When Bri’s sexy little black bra came into view, I realized that while I’d been playing with myself, I’d also been wondering if that was how her pussy felt, too, if she’d enjoy it as much as I did if I ran my fingers over her clit…

I’m not a lesbian. Really, I’m not. I’d spent the whole day at school looking at girls, imagining kissing them, and none of them did anything for me. I don’t like girls, I like guys. I like guys… and my twin sister. I can’t explain it, but it’s true.

And it’s something that I couldn’t even admit to myself, that I had a huge crush on my twin sister, that she turned me on, and that I wanted to do what we’d done last night again and again and again. It was something that I couldn’t admit, not until I was standing there in our bedroom, watching my twin sister Brianna step out of her skirt, watching her standing in front of me, wearing nothing but a bra and panties…

And all the time I was watching her, and finally admitting some hard truths to myself, she was watching me undress. She was openly watching me undress, clearly liking what she saw.

We didn’t say a word, we just moved towards each other slowly, and started to kiss again.

It was just as good as I’d remembered it being: better, as there was more of her skin touching mine. I felt electricity on my lips as she kissed them, my legs felt alive everywhere her fingers moved over them. When she moved her mouth down to my neck and started to kiss and bite me, my eyes rolled back in pleasure, and my brain turned off.

I didn’t think again until a few hours later. We were lying, naked in my bed, legs and arms intertwined, both of us soaked in sweat and juices and saliva. I’d brought Bri off three, four, maybe five times, and she’d done the same to me. It was the most intensely sexual feeling I’d ever had, nibbling on my sister’s pussy and looking up to see her face contorted in pleasure. She’d suckled on my breasts as her fingers pumped in and out of me, and I’d left more than a few hickeys on her neck and inner thigh.

Other than “Oh god”s, moaning and the occasional high-pitched squeal, we still hadn’t spoken, and I knew this was the time.

“Bri–” I started, but she cut me off.

“Want to go again?”

I just nodded.

After that, we were inseparable. Bri seemed to be as constantly horny as I was, and every chance we got, we would sneak off somewhere and get each other off — we got adept at using our mouths, our hands… if we needed to, we could get each other off in less than five minutes, standing up, without removing any clothes. Every chance we got to be alone, we were at least making out (if not much, much more) and even when there were other people around, we were always holding hands or touching in some way.

I’ve always loved Bri — she’s my sister! But despite what they taught us in school, I didn’t find myself falling in love with her or anything like that. I loved her as a sister, even when I was touching her in an utterly non-sisterly way. I wasn’t in love with her, I just thought she was pretty fucking sexy; a sentiment I’m sure she reciprocated.

One time, we both had a free period at the same time, so we crept into the girl’s bathroom, and spent the entire 40 minutes in a cubicle, playing a game we called ‘Nips’ — seeing how much we could turn each other on, just using our nipples. First girl to touch herself (or the other) loses.

I lost.

Another time, we were at Youth Group, and I noticed Bri give me a strong look, immediately after she asked if she could be excused. We snuck into the empty church next to our meeting and did it in the pulpit. It was so naughty… and the fact that anyone could have come looking for us at any point and caught us fucking in the house of God really added something for some reason.

The closest we ever got to getting caught was when Mom came into our room, late at night, without knocking. Bri was under the covers, going down on me at the time — I guess I must have been moaning pretty loudly. When Mom came in, she just thought Bri was in the loo, and she stood there chatting to me for quite a while. Bri must have been feeling cheeky, because she didn’t stop. Little minx; I had to keep making conversation with Mom even while I came. If Mom suspected anything, she didn’t let on. She just asked if I was feeling okay, right before she left, and reminded me that I could tell her anything, that I shouldn’t have any secrets from her.

The most public we ever did anything was at the movies. Mom, Dad, me and Bri all went, and Bri was sitting at the very end, with me next to her and Dad next to me. It was a James Bond flick, and while Dad was engrossed, neither me or Bri found it very interesting at all. Without anyone noticing, I managed to get my hand up her dress, and brought her off during the film. She came during a particularly loud action sequence; anyone who heard anything would have thought the sounds she made were coming from the film.

All the time we were doing this, sneaking around, sleeping in each other’s beds, getting each other off any chance we got — while everything was happening, I just couldn’t get over how sexy we were. I mean, Brianna is insanely sexy, and I know that I’m considered a bit of a looker, but I mean… the whole thing. The fact that we were twins, and the underwear we wore…

Oh yeah, the underwear. I don’t remember how it came up, but I was talking to Mom and we were discussing underwear. Mom’s cool about stuff like that; I know I can talk to her about anything. Especially sex. I trust my mother.

Anyway, by the end of the conversation, she’d said we could borrow her credit card and go lingerie shopping — she didn’t even act like she was doing us a huge favor, she was really pushing for it! I would have invited her to come along, but I sort of wanted to just go with Bri, y’know?

The trip started with us looking at fairly conservative stuff, but then our competitive sides took over. I would suggest something for Bri that was a little bit saucier than she’d normally wear, she’d come back with something twice as naughty. It wasn’t until we were both trying on thongs and peephole bras, comparing areola sizes and mock-spanking each other’s asses that we realized we’d attracted an audience.

For some reason, this really fueled our fires. (mine definitely, at least, and by this point I’d gotten pretty good at reading when Bri was turned on.) We pretended not to notice the small crowd of guys (and a few girls) looking through nearby knickers, trying to give off the appearance of innocent shoppers, and started role-playing a tiny bit. I pretended to be dominant, tried out some leather stuff… Bri assumed the role of my obedient servant girl, and tried the French maid outfit we’d laughed at when we first entered the store. Then we found some cuffs and whips…

Ten minutes later, the crowd had grown so large that we were worried about someone we knew coming by; we bought far too much stuff, and went home. We weren’t in the house five seconds when Bri jumped me — performing for the crowd had gotten her just as worked up as I was.

It’s a good thing that Dad wasn’t home, and that Mom didn’t come out of the study; Brianna and me would have had a tough time explaining why we were naked in the living room, let alone why I was spanking her…

Anyway, like I was saying, I got sort of obsessed by how sexy we were, as a couple. That day in the store did nothing but amplify my obsession. Two hot young twins who had sex with each other — people would pay by the bucketload to see something like that. Not that I wanted to put anything online or anything like that, but I wanted to see what it looked like. Every time me and Bri were having “alone time”, I couldn’t stop trying to imagine what it looked like. I couldn’t get the image out of my head. I knew we were hot, but… how hot?

I dunno how obvious it is, but talking isn’t exactly our strong spot as a family. Mom and Dad once went six months without speaking to each other, and it’s something that Bri and I must’ve inherited. Talking to Mom is great. I love talking to my mother; I can tell Mom anything. I should tell Mom everything. But… well, even after we hit our two-month sexiversary, Bri and I still never sat down and had a talk about what we were doing or anything like that. We just did it.

Fortunately, we’ve always been on the same wavelength: it’s a twin thing, y’know? And I think this shared secret has brought us even closer in terms of how we think — it’s like we share a brain lately. If I ever want to change up our sex stuff, I don’t even have to say anything — I just do it, if Bri doesn’t beat me to it. It’s crazy.

So I decided not to ask Bri about taking photos. I figured if she didn’t want to, she’d probably make that pretty clear pretty quickly. I went and got Dad’s camera out of the basement (by this point, Dad had moved on from his photography craze), and next time me and Bri were alone in our room, I pulled it out from the bedside drawer where I’d stashed it.

I assume every girl has their own little sexy faces — faces that tell you that they’re turned on, and which help turn you on even more. Bri has at least a dozen, and when she saw the camera I was watching carefully to see her reaction. She bit her lip nervously and moaned… before I’d even taken the lens cap off! It was so cute, and so fucking hot. I’d learned to read Bri’s faces pretty well, and this was an easy one — she was excited, in both senses of the word.

When we’re feeling playful, I’m always the dominant one. I dunno why; maybe Bri is just naturally submissive, or maybe it’s because when this all began, I was the teacher and she was the student. We love playing servant and mistress, or mummy and naughty daughter. (We’d been playing that one more and more lately.) With the camera in my hand, and Bri kneeling in front of me, looking so cute and obedient, I decided to really get into it, and started telling her what to do.

“Stay still, I need to get focus. Oh great, it’s got an auto… okay. Stay there. Smile up at the camera. Bite your lip a little. No, actually, lick your lips. Yeah, that’s great. Mmm. Okay, now unbutton your blouse a bit. Don’t look down, keep eye contact with the camera! Come on Bri, show a bit of cleavage. Yeah, I know you don’t have much… don’t look at me like that! Do the best with what you’ve got. Okay, great. Now unbutton a few more… oh wow, I didn’t know you were wearing that bra today. How did you get away with that in dance? No, wait. Don’t talk. Shut up… bitch.”

I’m not great at playing dominant, but Bri really gets into it. Sometimes I set her random tasks throughout the day — stuff like “you can’t use your thumbs,” or “whenever mum is in the room, you have to touch yourself without her noticing.” If she doesn’t do it right, she gets a spanking. I’ll completely forget about it sometimes, but she’ll always come back to me at the end of the day and tell me exactly how many times she broke the rules, and how many smacks she deserves to get as punishment. Like I said, she really gets into it.

“Okay, now show me a nipple. Just one. Make it look like an accident. Oh man, these are turning out great! Okay, now put one finger in your mouth, and show the camera how naughty you are. You’re a naughty girl, aren’t you? You’re a naughty girl, and you need a spanking from your mom. You want Mom to spank you. You want to be spanked by your mother.”

That night, we only took a few dozen photos before we both got too horny to continue. Taking a few snaps before setting the camera aside and enjoying each other’s young bodies became part of our nightly routine; over the next week or so, we went from slightly naughty photos of Bri in all her various naughty undies, to full nudes, to her spreading her legs for the camera to short videos (the camera could take videos of up to about two minutes) of her masturbating, coming while staring at the camera and screaming my name. She took some shots of me, too — my favorite was one she took from behind, of me on all-fours, showing off my ass and cunt and swinging tits, looking back at her and smiling.

I loaded a whole heap of Bri’s photos onto my phone. I liked looking at them when she wasn’t around. That’s probably the closest we’ve come to being caught — Mom asked if she could borrow my phone, and it wasn’t until half an hour later that I realized what I’d done. Fortunately she hadn’t found any of them — she was just backing up my contacts onto her computer. Close call!

Things really escalated when we discovered one of the camera’s attachments let you set a timer, so you can take a photo every hour or every ten minutes or whatever. Dad got it so he could do those time-lapse things, like they do on Breaking Bad. I set it to take a snapshot every ten seconds, and got in front of the camera with Bri.

It was, and keep in mind that it had some pretty tough competition, one of the hottest sessions we’d ever had. It was just what we’d normally do, but angled slightly towards the camera, but thinking about the images, the fact that we’d be able to look at these forever, the idea of photos leaking out onto the internet, and thousands of guys and girls getting off to images of us kissing, playing, fucking…

It made everything so much more electric. When I was sucking on Brianna’s nipples, I wasn’t just sucking on her nipple, I was forever capturing the image of one sexy teenager pleasuring another… when I was spanking her, I wasn’t just spanking her, I was punishing my bitch, for the world to see… when I came, I wasn’t just coming, I was broadcasting my orgasm to everyone with a computer, showing everyone how horny, how wet, how sexually charged I was… we were amateur pornographers, and it was so damned hot.

I really didn’t think it could get any hotter than that, but when the camera had run out of power and we lay back, exhausted, cuddled up on my bed, Brianna whispered something in my ear. Something that I knew was a terrible idea, but so hot that I knew I wouldn’t be able to resist it.

“Bec,” she whispered. “Let’s get caught.”

“Okay,” I immediately agreed. “Where, though? And by who?”

Bri pondered this for a couple of seconds, then with a bad-girl smile, whispered, “By Mom.”

***

Joanna

I should start by pointing out that I’m not a bad person.

Knowing what I’ve done, I can see how one would come to that conclusion. But if you think about it, for what I was doing to truly be wrong, I’d have to be manipulating my daughters somehow, changing them. But my tapes never once made the girls do anything they didn’t already want to do — no matter how many references to washing the car or keeping the toilet clean I included, it didn’t make a difference. I mention stockings once, and suddenly they never stop wearing them.

Not that I was complaining, mind you.

So while, at first glance, it may seem like I was brainwashing my daughters, I don’t think that’s a fair description. I was just unlocking urges that they’d always had inside them. I never made them do anything that went against their own desires; if anything, I was speeding up the process, accelerating their sexual education.

It made sense; I was the same way at their age. When I graduated high school, I don’t think there was a single fellow in my senior year who I hadn’t gone down on, if not much much more. As a family, we’re sexually charged creatures — that’s just the way it is. I didn’t cause it, I was just the catalyst in an inevitable chain of events.

This was further evidenced in the fact that they reacted completely differently to the exact same commands. I had one set of tapes that they both listened to, suggesting that they wanted to be obedient, submissive little sluts for mummy. Brianna took to it like a fish to water; there were times when I’d ask the girls to come help me cook, and Brianna would be in the kitchen almost before I was. I’d ask her to do something, and she’d snap to it. I’d yell at her, tell her she was useless, and she’d just lap it up… Rebecca, however, wasn’t having any of it.

I never made my darling girls do anything they didn’t want to. They’re teenagers; nature programmed them to be horny, bi-curious sluts before my tapes ever came on the scene. Odds are they would have been sleeping in each other’s beds pretty soon, even if I’d never done anything. I just provided them with an excuse to start.

So no, I don’t think that what I did makes me a bad person. I was just unlocking their natural desires, speeding up the inevitable course of events. I didn’t lose any sleep over my actions.

I’m not a bad person.

And what I did next didn’t change anything. It wasn’t bad.

It was, perhaps, a little bit naughty. But it wasn’t… wrong, not exactly.

I’ve always been a borderline nymphomaniac — even when I’m getting my sexual needs taken care of by the men in my life (or, at times, the women), I can’t think of a single day in my life that I haven’t masturbated as well, but since my daughters started taking care of each other sexually, I’ve just been chronic. I’ve almost worn out my collection of toys.

When it was all theoretical, I found the idea arousing: images of my little Brianna and Rebecca practicing kissing, or going down on each other. Pressing their tight, young bodies against each other… bringing each other off, over and over again. Making love; sweaty, passionate love.

Since I’ve made it happen, my libido has just grown and grown. I’ll be sitting in the living room, knowing that the twins have made love where I’m sitting, probably in the past twenty-four hours. I’ll take a shower, and wonder if they’ve taken to showering together, long, soapy, sensual showers… I’ll be making their bed, and I’ll remember what my sweet little Brianna’s face looked like as she came. Everything I do reminds me of sex, my baby girls having sex. Everything I do turns me on, and when I’m turned on I simply must take care of it…

Fortunately, I came up with a solution.

It wasn’t my first solution. No, at first I thought that all I needed to do was see my daughters’ bodies and I’d be fine. So I had them take photos of themselves and managed to get myself a copy. But all that did was fuel my desires. I spent so much time looking at them… well, I’m amazed no one caught me with my pants down, so to speak. I feel like my computer shows naked pictures of the twins more than it shows the desktop.

But it wasn’t enough. I needed more. I needed to see them in action.

So I pushed for them to start exploring each other in new and exciting locations around the house — the living-room, the kitchen, the lounge. Any time no one’s around, the tapes suggested they go out and make love.

After that, it was child’s play to tell the girls that I was going out, double back and watch through the window, or hide in a cupboard with a good view. It felt strange at first, a woman my age hiding in a cupboard — but strangely, I started to find sneaking around sexy in itself.

The tapes had already suggested to the twins that when making love, they were oblivious to the outside world. Fortunately, this suggestion seemed to take — I suppose we all want sex to be like that, a wholly immersive experience. If they hadn’t gone for it, I don’t know how quickly I would have been caught — I’m quite noisy, even when I’m only pleasuring myself.

I thought for sure that would do it, that seeing them make love in front of me, physically no more than a few feet away… I was certain that would satiate my desires, but it did nothing but stoke the fires of my fantasies. I went from getting myself off twice a day to four, five, sometimes six times. After seeing them in action, it played in my head constantly. Images of my girls making love to each other would go through my mind no matter what else I was doing; at the gym, on the phone, doing the shopping…

And so I spent weeks fighting with my conscience before I took the next step. I’d like to tell myself that I only did it because I needed to, because I’d brought myself to a point where I had no choice, if I hadn’t found a new release I would have done something terrible, like start exposing myself in public…

But the truth is, I didn’t do it because I needed to. I did it because I wanted to.

I believe it was Freud who said that all children, ultimately, desire their mother. I kept this in mind as I made my next set of tapes — all I was doing was tapping into their natural urges. If all children want to have sex with their mother, by encouraging my girls to do the same, you could hardly call me a bad person. Similarly, we all reach a stage where we find people in their forties attractive, even if it takes until we’re well past that age ourselves. Again, all my tapes were doing was speeding up the process for my girls.

Luckily, some of my earlier tapes had inadvertently laid the groundwork. I’d found, all too often, the girls wouldn’t come out and cavort where I could see them out of a fear of being caught — to remedy that, I’d simply given them the desire to be caught. Purely as a fantasy, of course, but it was a foundation I could build my plan on. While watching them, I’d imagined myself participating, making love to one of my darling little angels — to help my fantasy play out, I’d encouraged them to call each other “mother”, and even engage in occasional mother-daughter role-play. This was all easily tweaked to lead towards including me in their sex games.

The next month was agony, as each tape brought me closer and closer to living out my wildest fantasies. The first had been basically the same as the last few, but with a few phrases that would point them in the right direction…

You are a dirty little slut for your sister. You are a slut for your family. You are always turned on. You are always horny. You want sex all the time, and you want to get caught having it. You put DVDs back in their case when you’re done with them.You want to get caught having sex. Your mother is sexy. Your mother is hot. She turns you on. You want to fuck your mother.

You want to fuck your mother.

The changes were subtle, but in the course of normal events, I started to notice them. At breakfast, I would bend over to pick up a teaspoon, and turn just in time to see both my daughters pretending not to check out my ass. I’d be hiding inside a shrub as my girls made love in the back garden, and I’d hear one of them call out ‘mother’ as she came, even when they weren’t role playing. And more and more, after I walked into a room, they’d continue making out for a few seconds before stopping and offering flimsy excuses — as soon as I’d leave, the noises that started up showed how much being caught excited them.

Little things, but they confirmed that my plan was working. The next tape took a bigger step:

Older women are sexy. You are always horny. You are always ready to fuck. You want to get caught having sex. Your mother is sexy. You want to fuck all the time. You want to fuck your mother. You will vacuum after you spill potato chips, not just pick up the big pieces. Your mother is sexy. You want to fuck your mother. Your mother needs sex. Your mother needs sex from you.

This time, the difference in their behavior was slightly more obvious — both girls suddenly stated asking me about my sex life. When I assured them that yes, I was getting sex from their father, both their eyes glazed over for a few seconds, and I knew that they were imagining it. The only problem, I told them, sighing, was that it had been so long since I’d had sex with a woman. They looked at each other as I said this, and I could see the seed of an idea forming in their minds.

As I saw their reactions to the next tape, I was filled with hope. My plan was working.

You want to be more sexually inclusive. You want to include your mother in sex. You want to have sex with your mother. You want to fuck your mother. You want to make sure your shirts are the right way out before you put them in the wash. Your mother is sexy. You are always turned on. You are always horny. Your mother makes you horny. Your mother can teach you to fuck. You want your mother to teach you to fuck.

Again, the changes started out small. They weren’t at the stage where they were just going to invite me to jump in the sack with them, but it was starting to get close. Brianna walked in on me masturbating once or twice, and each time she watched for a few minutes before pretending to be grossed out and leaving. When I ‘accidentally’ came across Bec’s vibrator while cleaning her room, she offered to share it with me. And both of them had suddenly started asking me a lot more questions and advice about sex than they’d ever asked before. It was funny, in a way, listening to them ask questions for “a lesbian they know”, or “a friend who is having sex with her sister.”

Being so close to the fruition of my plan was making me absolutely climb the walls. If I didn’t have three or four of my own, I would have taken Bec up on her offer to share her vibrator…

One more tape, I told myself. One more tape, and then… it would be time.

When your mother catches you, you will invite her to join. You will fuck your mother. You want to fuck your mother. You want to get caught by your mother, and have her teach you to fuck. You are constantly horny for your mother. Your mother turns you on. You will remember to put the lid back on your lubricant when you’re done with it. Your mother is sexy, and should be included in your sex. You want to make your mother happy. You want your mother to teach you how to fuck.

I’d set the stage carefully. I’d told the girls that their father and I were going out, and that they’d have the entire house to themselves. I’d told Joshua that I’d drop him off for poker night with the boys. I’d even picked out outfits for the girls — a black halter top and matching short skirt for Bri, and a strapless black dress for Bec. Everything was ready.

After dropping Josh off, I’d gone almost double the speed-limit the whole way home. Fortunately I wasn’t pulled over. When I got home I crept around the back, and was delighted to see that everything was going just as I’d hoped. Bec and Bri were on the couch, kissing passionately, their hands between each other’s legs.

It was so romantic; the two obviously cared for each other, as they tenderly brushed each other’s hair back, even while they spread their legs lewdly and groped at each other’s breasts. Their kisses were slow and heartfelt, with closed eyes, and the pair occasionally stopped making out to giggle over an in-joke.

I stood and watched for as long as I was able, the anticipation building inside me, before I finally couldn’t take it anymore, and entered the room.

“Brianna! Rebecca!”

“Mom!” the girls exclaimed, as they jumped back. They were genuinely shocked; if they’d been expecting to be caught, they would have continued the kiss for a few minutes before “noticing” me.

“What on earth are you girls doing?”

“Nothing,” they said, trying to keep a straight face.

“Nothing? That doesn’t look like nothing to me.”

There was a pause, as the girls stared at me, agog.

“I decided to let your father go out alone,” I explained, hungrily watching the girls try to brush down their dresses and appear as if they hadn’t spent the last half-hour making out. “I thought we could spend some quality time together.”

I crossed the room and stood in front of them, hands on my hips. I wasn’t angry, but wondered if I appeared to be; towering over them, dressed in a long slinky black dress of my own.

“Well?” I continued. “Do you want to explain yourselves?”

The giggles broke at last, as they both looked at each other and my dress, around the room and anywhere except my face.

“We were… practicing.” Brianna explained, which set off a fresh set of laughter from both of them. I had been a teenage girl once too; I knew it wasn’t humor that was causing their reaction, but sheer nervousness. This was a big night for all of us, and giggling was how they expressed their excitement.

I stared at them for a few seconds, glad that they weren’t looking directly at me — if they had been, they would have noticed my own smile.

At last, I broke the silence. “Here,” I said kindly. “I’ll show you how to kiss.”

The laughter was suddenly gone as I sat down between them. I turned to Brianna, and simply leaned in and kissed her. Rebecca watched in awe as Bri and I dueled tongues for almost a minute. When I finally pulled away, she was speechless.

“Wow, Mom,” Bec said. “You kiss good.”

Each girl had one hand on my leg, as I turned to face Bec, brushing her hair out of her face.

“Well, I’ve had a lot of… practice,” I said, and demonstrated. I had one hand on each of my girl’s heads, as Bec stroked my leg and Brianna brought one hand up to cup my breast.

I was in heaven, as I kissed one girl and then the other, my hands exploring their legs, their bodies. I loved stroking their hair, and feeling them stroking mine. I held Rebecca’s head in my hands, and felt Brianna tentatively kissing my shoulder. I saw Rebecca put one hand between her legs, and replaced it with my own.

“I’ve practiced this too,” I said, inspiring a new round of giggles.

It was everything I’d ever dreamed of — Brianna took off my dress — I’d had the foresight to go without a bra — and for the first time in almost sixteen years, my daughters suckled on my breasts as if they were newborns. I remembered how erotic I’d found it at the time — I couldn’t think of a day in their lives when I hadn’t been turned on by my daughters, and now, at last, I was able to have them as I pleased.

The next few hours were a wild mix of different sexual positions — all three of us were naked within minutes, and there wasn’t a moment when I didn’t have at least one of my daughter’s mouths on me somewhere. I had both my twin daughters between my legs, alternating between making out with each other and licking me. Brianna fingered her sister, and then brought her fingers up for me to taste. I suckled on Bec’s nipples while Brianna went down on me, and then later we reversed positions.

It was well past midnight when we stopped — Josh had called about an hour before to tell me that he was going to stay the night at his friend’s house. Fortunately he had no way of knowing that when he called, one of his daughters was licking my nipples while his other daughter was between my legs.

If it hadn’t been a school night, I’m sure we would have kept going until daylight, but I wanted to make sure the girls got to bed at a reasonable hour.

I’m not a bad mother, after all.

The End

by PanWhoWrites

Reworked by JetBoy for Juicy Secrets

{ This story was originally posted at Literotica in November 2018 }

Joanna

I should start by pointing out that I’m not a lesbian.

At least, I don’t think I am. I mean, I’ve never really had any experience with girls to test it; until recently. I’ve been perfectly happy with my husband, and before him I didn’t really have any experience with anyone at all. My first time was with him. Six months later we were married, and three months after that the twins came along.

So I when my girls turned sixteen, I was surprised to discover myself wondering what they looked like naked.

A physical description seems to be the standard way to start these stories — I’ll begin with myself. My name is Joanna, I’m forty-three, the happily married mother of two beautiful girls. I’ve been told that I look a bit like Meryl Streep, though I don’t particularly see it myself. I’m in fair shape for a woman of my age; I’m not going to lie and say I have the body of a 30-year old, but I can honestly say that I have the attractive body of a forty-three-year-old.

I’m tall, but not too tall. Red hair, which my daughters inherited. 36C breasts with just a hint of sag (they were smaller before the pregnancy, but I’ve never had any complaints), and while there’s a bit of weight around my middle, my husband has never seemed to be put off by it.

I’ll describe the girls, too: Brianna and Rebecca. Brianna’s older by a few minutes — they’re twins, but not identical. Redheads, obviously. They’re both in good shape — not sporty, but active enough for their age. I haven’t been bra-shopping with them for a few years, but I still do their laundry, so I know that Rebecca is a 34B and Brianna is a 34C and that they both prefer white underwear. I think that black would be a better contrast against their pale skin… but I’m getting ahead of myself.

Beyond that, it was all imagination.

The exact date escapes me, but it was a few weeks after the twins’ birthday that I started picturing them nude. I think I know what caused it — boredom.

I was bored. Bored with life, bored with sex, bored with everything. Joshua and I had more or less stopped having sex a few years prior; god knows that we’d put the effort in. Costumes, underwear, toys. We cracked out the Kama Sutra once or twice, but none of it did any good.

We had reached the point where we were even talking about getting a third party in, but we couldn’t agree on a gender — as I mentioned, I’m not a lesbian, and Joshua wouldn’t even entertain the idea of sharing me with another man. Eventually, we dropped the idea, and our sex life petered off shortly afterward.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my husband. But, ignoring anniversaries (which we sometimes did anyhow), we hadn’t had sex in years. There was no question of divorce — we were still happy together, but inactivity in the bedroom had led to me taking care of my own needs. Once a week, twice on special occasions. I can only assume Joshua was doing the same; I couldn’t imagine him cheating on me.

And so I can only assume that it was my bored mind’s way of entertaining itself, perhaps attempting to give my libido a kick start. I started watching the girls, watched how they moved their young bodies around the house. Often awkward, occasionally with a grace beyond their years. Whether they were relaxing on the couch, playing tennis outside, running for the bus, I started to notice them. They never spotted me, their boring, stuck-in-a-rut mother, watching, but the whole time I was imagining them naked.

I hadn’t actually seen my girls in a state of undress for years now — the last time I remembered helping Rebecca in the bath was when she was twelve, and Brianna was probably even a few years before then. So I truly was using my imagination: I pictured them running down the hallway in the nude, their small budding breasts bouncing, unrestrained. I wondered how much pubic hair they had; I remembered, at that age, being hairy as a mink down there — but things are different these days, aren’t they?

For a while, I tried to stop. It wasn’t right, I reasoned, for a mother to think about her daughters that way. Wondering what Brianna looked like in the shower, water running down her back, picturing Rebecca, naked in front of the mirror, assessing herself, leaning forwards and pouting in a youthful attempt to look sexy. It wasn’t how a mother should be thinking about her offspring.

But after a few days, I gave into it. After all, I reasoned, it was completely harmless. And, as I may have mentioned, I was bored.

I don’t remember exactly when I started picturing my daughters during my weekly masturbation session, but that was when I knew I had crossed a line.

Friday night was “my” night; Joshua would go out with his pals, the girls had youth group and would frequently stay at a friend’s house. I’d set up a few candles, run myself a nice bath… if there was wine in the house I’d have a glass, and try not to think about how boring and cliched even fingering myself was.

Typically I would visualize a soap star, or the Australian man who had done our windows a few times, but this particular Friday, a mental image of the girls popped into my head.

At first I tried to shake it. I’d force it out of my head, try to think of rippling muscles covered in suds, or a burly wrestler taking me in the ring… but it kept coming back. The closer I got, the more it persisted, until eventually I just embraced it and let out a climactic sigh, a vision of my own daughters in my head.

After all, who was I hurting?

After that, it became a regular fantasy. And, as I’m sure many of you reading this will have encountered, over time fantasies require escalation. Soon just the image of my daughters wasn’t enough — they had to be taking part in in all manner of sexual escapades. Brianna at school, flashing her panties to the boys. Rebecca playing tennis in the nude, bouncing as she served the ball.

A month later, I was pleasuring myself two or three times a week, imagining the girls in more and more depraved situations — Rebecca sneaking off from youth group with the minister’s son, letting him feel her up behind the pulpit. Brianna, on her knees at her school, sucking off the school football star. Rebecca, bent over a desk at school, fucking a teacher for a better grade, Brianna watching and playing with herself…

The rest of my life was still as boring as ever, but my fantasy life had suddenly exploded.

I wish I could be more precise with dates, but it’s not something I particularly needed to keep track of. When you have nothing to fill your days with, they blur into each other, weeks becoming months becoming years, until you find yourself middle-aged, counting down the years until menopause, playing with yourself with images of the new fertile generation in your head.

While I don’t remember exactly what date or week it was, I remember it was another Friday when an image came into my head that would change my life forever.

I don’t know if this is true of all teenage girls, but it sure was with me — my girlfriends and I used to practice kissing. My friends were all gorgeous, and I suppose I wasn’t too bad myself — a lot of men would have paid a lot of good money to see what went on behind closed doors, but I’d forgotten about it myself until I was in the tub, my hands doing their usual job between my thighs.

It occurred to me, you see, that if I’d had a twin sister, I know we would have used each other for kissing practice. And while things have changed since my day, surely death and taxes aren’t the only constants — I feel that my girls would have taken after their old mother in at least one regard.

The second I had that image in my head, the mental picture of my twin girls kissing, sharing their tongues, pressing their bodies against each other, maybe using their hands to explore… I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

And not just in my own private time, either — whenever the two girls and I were in the room, I was scanning their faces for signals, secret flirtations between them. Whenever I left my daughters in a room together, I couldn’t help but imagine them passionately locking lips the second I left. Every time we were sat around the dinner table, I imagined their hands sneaking up each other’s legs, fingers pumping in and out of each other as we made small talk over supper…

At this point, my fantasies stopped being completely harmless.

I was aware of the change, too, and I tried to put it out of my head. I tried to think about something, anything else, but it was like a pink elephant. Trying not to think about it consumed my waking hours, and there was no room for any other thoughts.

I don’t know if my girls suspected anything. I tried not to let on, but when your sixteen-year old daughter come to you for help on a math problem and you’re doing everything you can (and failing) to stop picturing her naked, locked in a sweaty incestuous embrace with her twin, you don’t have the spare mental energy to see if they’ve noticed a change in your behavior.

I should tell you about my husband at this point — he’s a good man, and it’s not his fault that we’ve sexually drifted away from one another. He’s reliable, earns enough to keep us in the lifestyle that we’re accustomed to, and god bless him and his hobbies.

Ever since I’ve known him, almost eighteen years now, he’s discovered a new hobby every few months. When I first met him, it was inventing (which he’s come back to several times over the years, always managing to get distracted just before he can actually create something.) Right now it’s photography, a few months ago it was home-brewing beer, and before that he was seriously considering getting into beekeeping.

But the hobby relevant to this tale, and probably the reason you’ve clicked through to hear my tale in the first place, is hypnosis. Not “watch dangled in front of your face” hypnosis, though he did try that for a few weeks before giving up. Instead, he invested in a subliminal hypnosis kit, to try to stop smoking, partially at my request — his previous hobby had been cigars. They stank.

I don’t really understand how the tapes work — you record your voice, or a voice that you trust, and put it into a special tape deck. The deck layers it over the music, and so when you’re listening you’d never know that it was anything but a song. All the while, your subconscious brain is processing the messages — you have to listen to the same message for at least a few nights before it kicks in, but when it does you see results quickly.

The kit included some relaxation music, instructions on what sort of subliminal messages worked best, and speakers that attached to the bed. I have no idea if it was the tapes, or my threats to divorce and/or castrate my husband if I found one more cigar burn on the couch, but less than a month after he started the program, he was off the Cubans. By then, we’d both grown accustomed to falling asleep to the music, so we’d kept it and put everything else in the basement.

The girls refer to the basement as, “Daddy’s Forgotten Toy Chest” — there’s a remnant of every hobby Joshua’s ever had down there, from the ventriloquist dummy to the stamp collection to the “Start Your Own T-Shirt Company,” starter’s kit, along with thirty-five unsold “Born to be Wilde” shirts.

Obviously I never intended for it to go as far as it did. I was just curious. I just needed to know — I thought I’d just get by daughters to confide in their mom, find out what was happening under my own roof. Just a bit of information to fuel my fantasies.

Honestly, I never planned for it to go any further than that.

It was a pretty simple system. Easy to find, too; right under the jam-making equipment, above the “golf from home” kit. The provided messages were for weight loss and nail-biting, but gave you an idea of the sort of tone you had to use.

“Mom,” Brianna asked, “Why are you moving your stupid sleep-tapes into our room?”

The twins have always shared a room. Neither Joshua or I grew up with any siblings and we felt it was something that our childhoods lacked.

“They’re good for you,” I replied, “They’ll help you sleep better, you’ll be more rested for school.”

Brianna rolled her eyes. Rebecca didn’t even look up from her laptop as I attached one set of speakers to each bed.

The message I’d recorded was simple, and the same for both of them:

You trust your mother. You trust your mother. Mother knows best. You can share things with your mother. You must always answer mother’s questions. Mom knows best. Help Mom out around the house more. Whatever Mom says, goes. If Mom asks a question, you must answer. Never lie to your mother. Never lie to Mom.

I hoped that switching between mother, my role, and Mom, my “name” to the girls would help it work no matter how much they thought of me, whether as a person or just as their mother. (I know that at that age, my mother was an obstacle first and a person a distant second.)

I didn’t notice any difference for the first few days, and even after that it was subtle. If I hadn’t been looking for it, intently examining their faces and their bodies every time they entered the room (the bodies were less relevant to what I was looking for, but it had become a habit, ) I probably wouldn’t have said there was any difference, but by the end of the week, they were coming home and telling me about their day. It was nice.

After a week, I switched the tapes out.

You trust your mother. You trust Mom. You can tell her anything. You can ask her woman questions. You can talk to her about sex. Do your assignments more than a night before they’re due. Mom is cool. You can trust Mom with secrets. Tell your mother about sex. Never lie to your mother. Always tell Mom the truth. Your mother knows about sex. You can tell your mother anything.

This one was less successful. For the first week, absolutely nothing. I was waiting for a hint, anything that would open up a conversation, anything where I could get some details from my daughters to help fuel my fantasies.

I was starting to get frustrated. As well as that, without our own sleep-tapes, Joshua and I were both having trouble sleeping. One night I think he woke up while I was pleasuring myself (I had been unable to sleep and unable to get images of my daughters out of my mind, so I had done what came naturally.) I lay still, and after a few minutes he started snoring.

The next day, two things happened. I bought a tape and speaker set for our room, just to get back into a normal sleeping pattern, and I decided to be more direct with my next tape.

Your mother is someone you can talk to about sex. Discuss sex with your mother. Ask her questions. Tell her secrets. Your Mom loves to talk about sex. You love to talk about sex with Mom. You will remember to wash the dishes after breakfast. You will wear less clothes around the house. It’s okay to dress like a tramp at home. You will ask Mom about sex.

I don’t really understand the brain psychology of it, but if I had to guess I’d say the tapes work best on things you already want to do. If you want to quit smoking enough to buy a tape, they’ll help you achieve that. No amount of listening to these tapes will help you do something you’re opposed to — or if they will, you have to introduce it slowly and gradually.

This one had one immediate effect — the girls were wearing less and less clothes. As a mother, I felt I should say something, but I can’t deny that I was enjoying it. Joshua didn’t even seem to notice — had our husband’s member become so dead that it didn’t even notice two gorgeous and scantily-clad young ladies running around the house?

I have no idea where Brianna got a mini-skirt, but she certainly had the legs for it, and it wasn’t until I saw Rebecca in a v-neck that I realized how much she’d filled out.

One little nudge from a tape, and they were happy to let their inner tramp out. I suspect most attractive women are looking for the first excuse they can find to show off the goods — I know that when my body was in its prime, just the mention of the beach would get me into a bikini — I loved the feel of everyone’s eyes on my body — and even a hint of interest from a guy would get that bikini off.

But though there was more teenage flesh around the house since Joshua’s attempt to turn our basement into a weekend wrestling school, I continued to find myself washing breakfast dishes every day that week, and still neither of them were asking me about sex.

It was possible, I realized, that they just weren’t having any. Not with each other, not with anyone else. Perhaps it was for the best; if I could just confirm that no, my girls weren’t the sex-charged maniacs that I was at that age, I could get this sick obsession out of my head, and go back to fantasizing about hunky wrestlers.

But I needed to know for sure.

One last tape, I told myself. One more, then I’d give up and return to my humdrum, sexless, adventureless life.

You trust your mother. You trust Mom. You will answer all of her questions. You will not lie to mother. You will not lie to Mom. You will not be embarrassed. It’s okay to talk to Mom about sex. You must be honest to mother. You must be honest to Mom. There is no need to make the house smell like a perfume shop every time you have a shower. You will dress like a tramp. You will dress like a slut.

One last tape.

***

“Brianna, honey, can I talk to you?”

“Yeah, what’s up, Mom?”

“I want to talk about sex.”

“Uh… okay.”

“It’s okay to talk to your mom about sex.”

“Well, sure. I guess so. Is this about how we’ve been dressing? Because I can explain…”

“No darling, that’s fine. Wear whatever you want.”

“Oh, good, because it’s just that… -”

“Bri, it’s absolutely fine. I love that, by the way. When did tube tops come back into style?”

“Mom, can I…”

“Sit down, Bri!”

“Fine.”

“I just wanted to know…”

“Mom, this is…”

“You will not be embarrassed.”

“Fine. I won’t be embarrassed. What do you want to know?”

“And you know dear, you must be honest with me.”

“I… know.”

“I just had some questions. Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No, Mom, I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Do you have a… girlfriend?”

“Eww! No!”

“Don’t be like that. I had a girlfriend when I was your age.”

“What?”

“Not for long. Evetta, her name was. Oh my, I’d completely forgotten about her. We were together for two weeks, and then she was gone.”

“Mom, ewww.”

“Oh, come now. She was my first kiss. I can’t believe how long it’s been since I thought about her…”

“Is that all? Can I go now?”

“Oh, yes. Brianna, I just want to know. How far have you… well, how far have you been with someone?” She only mumbled. “Speak up Brianna, I can’t hear you. You must be honest with me. You do trust me, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. I trust my mother.”

“So tell me how… well, tell me what you’ve done. In as much detail as you like.”

“Mom, I’ve never even kissed anyone.”

“What?”

“There’s no need to sound so disappointed, Mom.”

“Sorry dear, I just… sweet sixteen and never been kissed?”

“No.”

“Not even Rebecca?”

“What!? Mom!!”

“Well, all girls do it, you know. All girls practice.”

“Mo-om!”

“So… have you?”

“Have I what?”

“Have you ever… practiced with Rebecca?”

“No!”

“I just… I’m just surprised, I suppose. It almost… it almost seems like a waste.”

“Mom, are you okay?”

“Oh, I’m just thinking. Some of my fondest memories are of those boarding school days. Practicing kissing, with the girls. God, we’d go on for hours…”

“Mom!”

“It just… it just seems like a pity that you’re going to miss out.”

“Miss out on what?”

“Hmm?”

“What are you talking about, Mom?”

“Oh, nothing dear. I’m just… thinking. Mother knows best, you know.”

“Can I go now?”

“Yes. Yes, certainly. Just… close the door behind, would you dear?”

***

Brianna

I should start by pointing out that I’m not a lesbian, y’know?

That might sound like a weird thing to start with, but it’s important. Me and my sis Bec had been raised to be all “gay yay” and all that and honestly I’ve got no issues with it — until lately, I always thought it was a bit weird, but whatever. Do what you gotta do, y’know?

And I mean, you hear that one in ten people are gay or whatever, and you wonder if you’re that one. And I did wonder for a while, but then I’d think about a girl and I’d think about a guy and there was just no competition, y’know? I like guys, and always have.

But then I heard there’s a thing where you can fall in love with a person and not a gender, I guess… but then I’m not really talking about love, just sex, so…

This isn’t making any sense. I’ll start at the beginning.

My name’s Brianna, but everyone just calls me Bri. I’m 16 and four months, and I have a twin sister named Rebecca (who’s the same age as me, surprise surprise.) We’re not identical twins, but you can tell that we’re sisters. We’ve always been close — not creepy close or anything like that, but we’ve always got along.

About a month or two ago, Bec and I went through our own little sexual revolution, if that makes sense. We were talking, and we both came up with the same idea at the same time — we decided that we were sick of wearing what society says we have to wear in order to be “good girls”. We’re both sexy women, and we decided that we wanted to start showing it, so we decided to start wearing what we wanted when we wanted, y’know?

I think part of us wanted it to be a big “fuck you” to our parents, too, for telling us what we can and can’t do, but it didn’t really work out like that. For one, our Mom’s pretty cool — recently we’ve realized that she’s the kind of person you can talk to about anything you like, and Dad’s so harmless that it’s really hard to rebel against him. It’s like trying to fight a piece of soggy toast — it’s not really worth it. Dad’s like that.

So me and Bec started wearing our “out” clothes around the house, waiting for Mom or Dad to say something, but neither of them did. Dad didn’t even seem to notice, and Mom… almost admired us? It was weird, I saw her checking out our legs a few times. Maybe she was just remembering the days when she used to look like that. I’ve seen the pictures — Mom used to be a major hottie. Even now, she’s kind of sexy in a mature kinda way.

So I was waiting for Mom to start lecturing us, but it never happened. Instead, she and I had this really weird conversation about an old girlfriend she used to have, and asked me the oddest question you could imagine — she wanted to know if Bec and I ever practiced kissing! With each other!

At first, I was grossed out. I told Bec about it later, and she started laughing, and then I started laughing, and we couldn’t stop. It was just so weird — Mom telling me about how she used to kiss girls, and then asking if I did. After Bec and I finished laughing, there was a weird silence, and we haven’t really spoken about it since. She probably didn’t even think about it again after that, and I completely forgot the whole incident… for about a week.

I dunno why, but after a week I started thinking about it again, and the thought just got stuck in my head. Kissing Bec. Kissing my twin. Kissing my twin would be hot.

You see why I wanted to make it clear that I wasn’t a lesbian? I mean, I’ve never kissed a guy, but I’ve defs thought about it. A lot. But then the image of kissing a guy sort of got displaced by the idea of kissing Bec, and the thought wouldn’t go away.

What’s worse is that I was starting to notice how good Bec looked in her more slutty clothes (which she was starting to wear, more and more.) It was an unexpected side-effect from our little sex revolution; I’d find myself staring at her cleavage, or checking out her ass as she bent over to pick something up. I even considered going in and watching her shower, pretending that I was just brushing my teeth or something. If she caught me, I could just be like, “We’re sisters, it’s cool.”

I had this weird crush on my sister. It should have bothered me more than it did, but… I kind of liked it.

Bec’s always been better with guys than I have. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I think she’s hot and I can definitely see what guys would see in her, but I’m not exactly Queen Ugly myself. If I had to put it down to one thing, I’d say it’s her boobs. The difference between a B and a C cup, y’know? Guys notice that sort of thing, and when you’re in front of two similar-looking redheads, you’re going to go with the one with the bigger cans.

So I’ve never kissed a guy. I’ve been on a few awkward dates, and I’ve had crushes before, but it’s just never happened for me. Bad luck, I guess, or maybe I’m uglier than I think I am. How much would that suck? If I was the one teenager in the world without low self-esteem, and it turned out that I was ugly.

Bec’s had better luck with guys; she had a boyfriend once for two whole months, and she told me that they kissed a bunch of times, and once he even put his hand up her top.

So yeah, if we were going to practice kissing, it would be me asking Bec. She’s got the experience, and has never been a bitch about it or anything. She always answers questions that I ask her, and one time she even showed me what it had felt like when her ex-boyfriend Mark had felt her up. Well, she started to, but it was a bit weird so we stopped.

This next bit really is weird, though. Just warning you ahead of time. It shouldn’t have happened the way it did, but it did, and I’m not complaining.

So it was a Sunday night, and Bec and I were sitting on our beds, in our shared room, chatting about what we were going to wear the next day to school. I was pushing for her to mix it up a bit and try one of my miniskirts. She was saying I should go without a bra and see if anyone noticed.

Anyhow, I just… asked. It had been going around my head like a chant for days, and I guess I just had a moment of weakness and couldn’t resist it anymore, y’know?

“Hey Bec,” I said quickly, before I let myself change my own mind, “could you teach me how to kiss?”

It could have gone any way. She could have laughed, she could have been grossed out, she could have… hell, she could have done anything. It’s a weird question, especially from your twin, and especially when we’d laughed so hard at the idea just two weeks ago, y’know?

But she just stared at me, with those dark brown eyes, and nodded.

If I’d been thinking about it, maybe I would have suspected that she was kidding, or that she’d misunderstood me. But I’d had the image of kissing Bec, kissing my own twin, running through my head for days, so I didn’t question it for a second. I just got up, moved over to her bed, and sat directly in front of her.

We were wearing matching nighties that Mom had bought us a few weeks ago. Pink and frilly; when we’d first opened the box, we’d thought she was trying to dress us up as little girls, as moms sometimes do.

It wasn’t until we’d tried them on that we’d realized how drop-dead sexy they were — they were so short that if we weren’t wearing panties underneath, bending over would completely expose us, and the neckline was low-cut enough that a boob would occasionally pop out (Bec’s more often than mine.) Mom mustn’t have noticed how short these were when she got them.

Turned out that Bec and I both looked h-o-double-t hot wearing them, and they quickly became our favorite choice of nightwear.

So we were sitting on Bec’s bed, in our sexy nighties, just staring at each other, saying nothing for a few minutes. My heart was beating so hard I thought Bec must be able to hear it, and I think at this stage we both knew that this was about more than “learning how to kiss.” Maybe a lot more.

Maybe I hadn’t been as subtle as I thought, and Bec had picked up on my crush and decided to help me get over it, or maybe she’d had the same reaction to my recent style of dress as I’d had to hers. Maybe she had a weird crush on me, just like I did on her?

She leaned in, without a word, and pushed her lips against mine. They were soft, slightly moist, and made my mouth feel all tingly. My first kiss. After a few seconds, she pulled back, and looked at me questioningly. I don’t think I reacted, but I must have nodded or something, because she was suddenly kissing me like her life depended on it.

She was kissing me like I was the hottest boy in class, and I was kissing her back just as hard. At some point, my tongue came out (or maybe hers came out first?) and we started using our tongues to play with each other’s tongues, y’know? I don’t know if there’s a word for that, but it felt amazing.

Bec’s smell is one that I’m used to; it’s been there my whole life. Maybe I smell just like her and just can’t smell myself, but at that moment, with my tongue in my twin sister’s mouth, I felt like I was swimming in her smell, or drowning in it. Drowning in a good way though. Like… drowning in sexiness. I’d never been so turned on. I loved it.

The next hour or so was a total haze. I remember kissing her, passionately, at length, and I remember her hands roaming all over my body. I remember feeling, for the first time, exactly what her boobs felt like, what it was like to handle boobs slightly bigger than mine. I remember grasping her ass (it felt great!) and her groping mine. And I remember that my knee was the only part of my body that went near her pussy, but even through her panties and her nightie, even though I was only feeling with my leg, I remember feeling that she was turned on. It turned me on so much, to know that she was as turned on by me as I was by her.

I remember that I didn’t want to stop.

But after what must have been an hour, an hour and a half, we detached, and we just lay back on her bed, panting, covered in sweat. We just lay there for a while, holding hands, before a shyness that I’d never felt with Bec before, the shyness that normally overcomes me when Mr Phillips asks me to answer a question in class, or when I have to talk to my crush. It overcame me and I mumbled “Thanks,” leapt over to my bed, and turned the light off.

Bec didn’t say anything, or try to follow. I don’t know if I hurt her feelings, or if she was feeling just as shy, but I’m glad she didn’t say anything, ‘cos if it had been bad I would have died of embarrassment, and if it had been anything else, I would have jumped straight back into her bed — and neither of us would have slept that night.

Ever since we started sharing a room, we’ve an unspoken rule about masturbating: If the other person can hear you, you’re doing it wrong. It’s a manners thing, mostly. It just prevents embarrassment, or any weirdness.

That night, we both broke that rule.

On to Part Two!