Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

By BlueJean

The Mal De Mer was a rowdy but friendly pub, until someone looked at someone else the wrong way, or a careless word was uttered after one too many drinks – and then all hell broke loose, as is often the way of harbour-town establishments.

The night before Uncle Derek was to set out on another fishing trip, he and his crew had gathered at the pub to observe the ancient maritime ritual of getting as shit-faced as possible before heading out to sea. Always partial to a few beverages herself, Aunt Rita had joined them, and I was introduced to my first taste of Morcant-On-Sea hospitality.

My uncle bought the first round: A pint of Guinness for himself and another for Aunt Rita, lager for Jack, something brown and murky for Sully, and a large red wine for Odette – apt for a French woman, I suppose, but somehow I had her down for a beer drinker. I had no option but to settle for a Coke when my request for a small white wine had been scuppered.

We sat around a table in the corner of the bustling pub and listened to Jack drone on about his mythical fighting prowess. “He comes up to me, right? He comes up and he’s, like, ‘You wanna piece of me, do ya?’ So I fuckin’ drop-kicked him, and he goes flying ‘cross the road, and he’s got this stunned look on his face. I says to him, ‘Stay down, mate. Stay down’.”

Odette offered the boy a pat on the back. “Oh, you are a tough guy, no? But it is not nice to beat up dwarves.”

Uncle Derek slapped the table in amusement. “HAHAHA!”

Jack went red-faced and gave Odette a scowl. “Very funny. He weren’t a dwarf. He was at least six foot.”

“It might have been a dwarf standing on top of another dwarf,” Aunt Rita chipped in, rousing another roar of laughter from everyone.

“Or a dwarf on stilts!” I chirped.

“Or a really tall dwarf,” Sully said in a deadpan voice, which drew a few odd looks. “With a parrot,” the old man added.

“Er… good one, Sully,” Uncle Derek told his first mate.

“Look, there weren’t any fucking dwarves,” Jack protested. “Not a single one. He was a big stocky bloke with these weird starey eyes and a tongue that kept lolling out.”

We all remained tight-lipped, and tried our best not to laugh at the poor boy, until Uncle Derek put his arm round Jack’s shoulder and broke the silence with, “Down syndrome fella, was he?” causing the rest of us to fall about laughing.

Even Jack couldn’t help but smile. “Bastards.” He got up and headed towards the bar. “S’pose it’s my round. Not that you lot deserve it.”

As the evening wore on and the glasses piled up, jokes were shared and songs were sung. Sitting there sipping my Coke like a fine wine, I felt like I belonged – that this was where I was supposed to be, warm and safe among this group of ragtag folk.

Until a large tattooed man with no neck and a handlebar moustache approached our table, and the congenial atmosphere turned sour in an instant.

“I’m still waitin’ for you to take a look at my motor, Rita,” the ugly-looking brute grunted.

Aunt Rita didn’t even bother looking up. “I ain’t fixing it.”

“Why not?”

“‘Cause you never paid me last time. And you’re an arsehole. But mostly ’cause you didn’t pay me.”

No-Neck rested his gorilla knuckles on the table. “You tellin’ me I need to take it to the mainland to get it fixed?”

“I don’t give a shit where you take it. No one screws me over.”

Uncle Derek laid a hand on No-Neck’s arm and smiled a humourless smile. “Away you go now, Petey. You’ve asked your question and you’ve had your answer.”

No-Neck-Petey glared at my uncle. “You best take your hand off me, Derek.”

Uncle Derek’s hand remained where it was. “We really doing this again, Petey? You sure about this?”

It’s strange how an entire pub full of people can instinctively sense when the shit’s about to hit the fan – a hair raising, adrenaline primed sixth sense of foetal position inducing weirdness that fills the air like a contagious wave, triggering that good old primal fight-or-flight instinct.

Everyone found their feet all at once. Odette hunched her shoulders like a bull ready to charge, while Jack eyed the nearest exit with an air of self-preservation that suited him far better than the bravado he tried to project. Sully pulled me backwards away from the table and shielded me with his arms.

“I’ll tell you one more time, Derek,” No-Neck-Petey rumbled. “Take. Your. Fucking. Hand. Off. My—”

Aunt Rita’s fist flew through the air and landed squarely on the ape-man’s jaw with a crack. “Take that, fucker!” she yelled.

No-Neck, realising he couldn’t hit a woman back – not in a busy public house, at least – thumped Uncle Derek instead, knocking him back towards the bar and into a weaselly looking man, who promptly spun around and smashed his beer glass over my uncle’s head. Odette lurched towards her captain and hoisted up his scrawny assailant, throwing him across the bar like a sack of spuds.

And then, of course, everyone else either ran for the door or simply joined in, leaving me to duck under the table as a chair flew over my head.

As chaos erupted all around me, I stuck my hand up and groped about until I found a glass, pulling it back under the table and gulping the contents down before anybody could notice. Red wine – full bodied; fruity with floral notes.

Sully headbutted a smart looking gentleman in a three-piece suit as I crawled on all fours over to the next table.

Half a glass of gin and tonic – lipstick round the rim; garnished with a slice of lemon. Dry but refreshing.

Jack came sliding towards me on his belly, having been swung round and hurled across the floor by a fat man with a comb-over. He regarded the empty gin glass in my hand, then flashed me a knowing grin – as if he didn’t have more pressing matters to attend to.

“Don’t tell, okay?” I appealed to him, a finger to my lips.

But then the handsome young fool was gone, dragged out from beneath the table and tossed in some new direction.

A quarter of a glass of Mojito – rum, sugar, lime juice, club soda. Finished with freshly picked mint leaves, slices of lime and two rapidly melting ice cubes.

And there went Aunt Rita, riding on the back of No-Neck-Petey with her teeth clamped round one of his ears, while the great brute of a man thrashed about and howled his outrage.

Time to move. I scarpered through a storm of flying fists and glasses to the safety of the next table.

Half a pint of dry cider – a faint aftertaste of stale tobacco.

Uncle Derek seemed to have pissed off two young women who had caught him in a pincer movement, slapping him repeatedly while he roared with laughter.

One third of a glass of Pernod & Black – Pastis liqueur; blackcurrant cordial. Strong aniseed base with fruit undertones. Soggy pork scratching optional.

Quite unexpectedly, a loud shot rang out, deafening within the confines of the public house.

Everyone cowered at the sudden blast and followed it to its source: Sheila the landlady, standing on the bar, shotgun in hand – loaded with blanks, I later found out. “Everyone! Out of my pub!” the irate custodian wailed.

Those who hadn’t already vacated The Mal De Mer when the first fists were thrown did so now, until only myself, Aunt Rita, Uncle Derek and his crew remained.

“Rita! Derek! You’re both barred! Again!” came Sheila’s decree.

Aunt Rita furrowed her brow as she surveyed the battleground. “Uh… I appear to have lost my niece.”

The table I was hiding under levitated off the floor, and Uncle Derek loomed over me with that big grin of his. “She’s over ‘ere.”

“Peek-a-boo!” I squeaked.

Aunt Rita took the glass from my hand and sniffed its contents. “Oh, dear…”

You’ll forgive me if my recollection of the rest of the evening is a little hazy. I remember dancing outside the pub with Aunt Rita. Oh, and singing – there was lots of singing. I’m pretty sure I fell over a couple of times. Uncle Derek piggybacked me up the steep cobbled streets, and I seem to recall throwing up down the back of his shirt.

Somehow we made it back to the cottage and my uncle carried me upstairs, laying me down on my bed before disappearing to tend to his wounds. Aunt Rita undressed me and tucked me in, then made me drink a big glass of water.

“Can I live with you forever?” I asked her as she swept my hair from my eyes.

“Why would you want to stay here forever?”

“‘Cause it’s nice. And my mum doesn’t love me.”

Aunt Rita gave me a sad smile. “Love is a cage. You walk into it and the door locks behind you,” were her final words, before a drunken slumber claimed me.

***

I awoke the next morning feeling like death incarnate. My head thumped; nausea enveloped me. I made the solemn vow that every inexperienced drinker makes the first time they wake up with an apocalyptic hangover: Never again. Ever. Until the next time.

Stumbling out of bed, I slithered down the spiral staircase towards the bathroom to relieve myself. I considered throwing up as well, but somehow managed to keep it down. My reflection stared back at me in the cabinet mirror, so I poked my tongue out at it for its insolence. “Naaaaah!”

I heard a voice coming from somewhere in the house, and thought it was Aunt Rita on the phone until I drew closer to her room. Her door was half open, leaving me free to peer inside. I gasped in shock.

She lay sprawled on the bed, naked but for her socks, legs spread, knees apart, a large veiny silicone cock buried in her vagina.

I pushed open the door without thinking and stood there in just my knickers. “Hi…” I said and gave her a silly wave.

“Did I wake you?” an unfazed Aunt Rita asked me as she idly fucked herself.

I shook my head.

“How do you feel?”

“Not good,” I admitted.

My aunt chuckled. “Serves you right.” Withdrawing the large toy from her cunt, she brought its head to her clit, using it to tease and stimulate the sensitive nub. “Your uncle sailed out this morning. It’s just you and me again.”

I stepped into the room and closed the door behind me, then leant back against it.

“Would you like to help me?” my aunt asked.

“How?”

She beckoned me over with the crook of a finger. I padded across the room and climbed onto her bed. To say I could smell her arousal would be an understatement. Her scent was strong – almost unnaturally so, and I wondered if that awful hangover had amplified my senses, as often they do. Regardless, I was giddy with the aroma, my own pussy awakening with a throbbing need.

Rita took my hands and placed them on the silicone cock sticking out of her. “Fuck me with it.”

I knelt between her legs and grasped the toy, slowly feeding it into her.

“Deeper,” she demanded, so I burrowed further still, her hungry cunt devouring the greater portion of the dildo’s veiny length. I drew it back out and watched in fascination as her inner labia clung to it, as if reluctant to let go.

“That’s it,” my aunt groaned. “In and out. In and out. A little faster.”

I found a steady rhythm, pistoning back and forth as my aunt sat propped up against the pillows kneading her full breasts, legs spread wide to allow my labours to continue unobstructed.

“You smell so nice,” I murmured, intoxicated by her thick musk.

“You like smelling Aunty’s pussy?” Rita growled.

“Yeah.”

“Dirty little girl.”

I liked hearing her call me that. “Say more naughty things to me.”

“Shove that cock into Aunty’s cunt, little girl,” she hissed. “Fuck me good and hard.”

I gave my aunt an innocent look, fluttering my lashes at her. “Shall I take my panties off for you, Aunty?”

“Ooh, yeah. I wanna see your bare pussy while you fuck me.”

I left the dildo half buried in my aunt’s cunt while I stood on the bed and slowly peeled my knickers off. Kicking them away, I spread myself open for her. “D’ya like that?”

Aunt Rita murmured her approval.

I hunkered down and took the toy into my hands again, liquid sounds accompanying each sordid thrust as I continued to drive it back and forth.

Aunt Rita reached a hand beneath herself and pushed a finger into her bum. “If I play with my arsehole while you fuck me with that cock, I’ll go off like a firework.”

“That’s so rude.”

“But y’know what would be even better?”

“What?”

She unsheathed her engorged clitoris and gave me a hungry look. “If you suck on my clit while you fuck me.”

Face poised between my aunt’s legs, the humid, animal heat of her arousal enveloped me. I took her tender node between my lips to nurse upon it like a nipple.

Aunt Rita thrust her hips out, a finger attacking her arsehole while I ate her clit and fucked her with the dildo. “Fuck… Gonna come so hard…!”

And she did. Rippling contractions ejected the toy from her spasming cunt, vaginal juices spraying my face and chest. She gave an ear-piercing scream, her body frozen in ecstatic contortion.

“Holy shit…” I whispered, my aunt’s musky fluids dripping from my chin. I hadn’t expected a deluge like that.

With laboured breath, Aunt Rita opened her arms in invitation. As I fell into her naked embrace, her hands moved with a strange attentiveness across my face and through my hair. Then her fingers were inside my mouth, swirling around my cheeks and across my tongue while she whispered words that I couldn’t quite make out. Before I could ask what she was doing, her lips found mine, and I was returning the kiss with all the passion I could muster.

When we broke apart, my aunt settled back against her pillows with a look of pure satisfaction. “Thank you, Hailey.”

“Ah… you’re welcome, I guess.”

“Was it okay that we did that?”

I nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, definitely. I really like doing sex stuff.”

“I need to taste you,” my aunt crooned as she gently pushed me back onto the bed. Prising my knees apart, she craned her neck to get at my pussy, breathing in my scent first, then working the tip of a finger through my outer labia. When her tongue finally made contact with my aching cunt, I shivered with delight, surrendering to her touch.

I could feel the inevitable seismic shift of my orgasm rumbling beneath the surface, but Aunt Rita would not allow its release just yet. With a sly smile, she rolled me onto my side and forced my arse cheeks apart, giving me some clue where her tongue was headed next. Sure enough, I felt her probe the taut opening of my bum, the sensation strange and new but certainly not unwelcome.

She attacked my pussy and arsehole with a relentless ferocity, her tongue lashing against me with such force and celerity that it seemed to be everywhere all at once. My body was slave to the sudden brief rigor mortis of climax before erupting into uncontrollable spasms, my headache blooming with a raw intensity. A long-drawn-out groan escaped my lips, both of pleasure and of pain.

Aunt Rita hissed her delight. “Yes! Come for me, you dirty little girl!”

Waves of ecstasy rolled over me, each one less intense than the last, until finally I could function to some degree of normality.

My aunt peppered my inner thighs with kisses. “How was that?”

“Sick,” I replied earnestly.

“Eh?”

“It means ‘awesome’,” I explained. “Actually, I do feel a bit sick. Can I have a couple of painkillers, please?”

Aunt Rita fetched a glass of Alka Seltzer, and I gulped down the unpleasant tasting liquid as rapidly as I could.

We spent the rest of the morning lounging naked in bed, me nestled between my aunt’s legs while she wove iridescent pearls into strands of my unruly hair. A cool breeze stirred the net curtain over the bedroom window, blowing across my skin and drawing a wistful smile from me.

“When I daydream,” my aunt murmured, as she took a soft brush to my hair, “sometimes I imagine doing this with The One Who Got Away.”

“The One Who Got Away… I keep hearing you and Uncle Derek say that. What’s it mean?”

Placing the hairbrush down on the bedspread with a thoughtful reverence, Aunt Rita looked off into the distance. “She was our baby girl,” she told me softly.

I sat up and turned to face her. “You had a baby? I – I didn’t know that.”

“She didn’t stay with us for long. We didn’t even have time to name her.”

“What happened?”

“She… she wasn’t made for this world – her little webbed hands and feet; skin so thin it was almost translucent.” A flash of anger flittered across my aunt’s face. “The doctor said she was deformed. He actually said that to my face. I smacked him in the mouth for it. But she wasn’t deformed, Hailey. She was beautiful. She was our daughter.”

“Oh my God, Aunt Rita. I’m so sorry.”

“So the doctors and midwives left us alone, and we held her and murmured words to her and kissed her. And then she died in my arms. She… got away.”

Tears streamed down my aunt’s face. I wrapped my arms around her as she quietly wept.

“It broke your uncle. He found ways to blame himself, as men always do. I tried to guide him through his grief as I was dealing with mine. And I knew I couldn’t leave him.”

“Leave him? Why would you leave Uncle Derek?”

My aunt wiped her tears away and shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.” She climbed off the bed and slipped her knickers on. “Get dressed. We can head to the beach for the afternoon, if you like.”

***

We strolled down to the beach café for cappuccinos and a shared bacon sandwich, then made our way across to the pale white sand at the water’s edge, sea birds flying to and from their cliffside nests and the soft sound of waves lapping against the shore.

We spoke of many things, my aunt and I. Love and loss, soaring happiness and broken hearts, of running away and of staying put, of swimming with the tide and swimming against it. And hand in hand, I realised we had reached a new understanding, not just as aunt and niece, but as friends.

Aunt Rita led me round the peninsula to a secluded stretch of beach where, to my amazement, we found ourselves confronted by a ring of fossilised tree stumps.

“Whoa! What’s this?”

“This,” Aunt Rita told me, “is a seahenge.”

“Like… like Stonehenge?”

“Yeah. Except this one is made from wood. It’s only visible for a couple of hours each day when the tide is out.”

I wandered around the circumference of the circle and counted forty-five smaller trunks, with a gigantic upturned tree stump settled squarely between them. “Who put it here?” I asked my aunt.

“The ancient Celts. With a little guidance…”

“It’s amazing.”

“It is. And it’s where our little girl rests.”

It took me a brief moment to fathom the meaning of her words. “The One Who Got Away?”

Aunt Rita gave a nod. “The sea protects her now. The sea… and those little rascals.” She gestured to the water’s edge and I gasped in amazement.

The seals lumbered ashore and found their way up onto the large flat trunk in the centre of the circle – seven of them altogether, various sizes and mottled hues: greys and blacks, whites and browns. I found myself entertaining the notion that Madeline might be there amongst them, looking back at me from the dark eyes of her seal form.

“Aunt Rita?” I called as my aunt began heading back towards the town.

“Hmm?”

“I… I don’t think Madeline is human.”

My aunt gave a brief snort of laughter. “Well, that’s a bit mean! Come on, let’s go home.”

I ran after her, and together we strolled along the sand towards the harbour. My aunt turned and walked backwards, then hollered to the basking seals, “Look after her, okay?!”

I wasn’t sure if she meant Madeline or her lost baby.

***

My life in Morcant-On-Sea settled into a familiar rhythm. Uncle Derek would come and go, leaving Aunt Rita and me to enjoy each other’s company, both socially and sexually. I didn’t see much of Madeline, other than the occasional visit to the cottage or chance meeting around town. My infatuation with her had somehow diminished since my aunt and I had become intimate. I wondered if I’d come to be a substitute friend for Aunt Rita too, given the dwindling amount of time she spent with the doctor.

When I wasn’t exploring the beaches, swimming in the warm waters of the shallow bays, or delighting in the seals as they basked upon the great fossilised tree trunk, I would sometimes help Aunt Rita as she tinkered with her cars, and often we would end the day gleefully covered in oil and grime.

The nights were our ‘special time.’ Some evenings she would come to my room, other nights I’d go to hers, and together we would explore our burgeoning desire in ever more inventive ways.

On occasion, I’d catch the faint voice on the wind and sneak out to follow it down to the harbour, but I never found Madeline on the beach again, if indeed I hadn’t dreamt her there to begin with.

One late evening though, when I should have been tucked up in bed, I found Sully sitting on the harbour wall with a bottle of bourbon in his hand. The old man was quietly sobbing, and at first I considered turning round and sneaking back home, but empathy and curiosity drove me towards him.

I put a hand on his shoulder. “Sully?”

The old sailor gave a start and turned to me, wiping his rheumy eyes with the back of a hand. “Hailey? What’re you doing up at this hour?”

I didn’t see the point of lying. “I sneak out sometimes. I like it down by the harbour when it’s quiet. And I hear singing.”

“Singing?”

“Yeah. I think it’s Madeline.”

Sully gave me an odd look. “Right… If you say so.”

I sat down next to him. “Why’re you crying?”

The old man shook his head sadly. “Oh, Hailey. We’ve done something terrible, me and your uncle.”

“What did you do?”

It spilled out of him – a confession of sorts, as if he needed to tell someone, even if that someone was an eleven-year-old girl. “Me and Derek, we was out to sea – those were the days before Odette and Jack joined up. It was a rough trip – seas were choppy; haul too small to make a profit. So, on the last day we was bringing up the nets as usual, but… there was something in there. We thought it was a dead body at first, ’till I sees the seal flipper down where her legs should’ve been.”

“A Selkie…” I whispered.

Sully gave a single nod of the head. “Aye. I knew what it was. I begged Derek to throw it overboard, but once that stubborn fool gets an inklin’ into his head, he takes hold like a barnacle.”

If it wasn’t for the distraught look on his face, I would just as easily have assumed that Sully was playing one of his pranks on me.  “Jesus Christ on a two-stroke moped! I bloody knew it!”

“Derek turned the boat round and headed back to Morcant. Then he… he peeled the sealskin away from her body. He gave it to me, told me to hide it, so’s no one could ever find it.”

“What did you do with it, Sully? Where did you hide it?”

He hung his head in shame. “I can’t say, girl. Your uncle made me swear an oath.”

I gripped the old man’s arm. “What you and Uncle Derek did was wrong, okay? She needs to go back to the ocean, and she can’t do it without her skin! You have to tell me where it is so I can give it back to her!”

“I ain’t had a decent night’s sleep since we found her, Hailey. There’s not a day goes by that I don’t feel the shame of it.”

“Where’s her sealskin, Sully?! Tell me!”

Finally, the old man relented. He blew out a big breath and turned to me. “You’re right. It’s time I made amends.” Pulling himself to his feet, he regarded the bottle with disgust, then went to hurl it into the harbour.

“Put it in the bin!” I told him, and he gave me an abashed look.

“Meet me at the old seahenge, three o’clock tomorrow afternoon, all right?”

“And you’ll show me where you hid her skin?”

“Aye. But say nothing to your uncle. Breaking a seaman’s oath is no small thing.” The old man stumbled away muttering to himself and disappeared up the steep cobbled street.

I sat on the harbour wall, trying to take in what I’d just been told. Madeline was a Selkie. It was all true. Did that mean little Isla was a Selkie too? Half Selkie? Would she be able to follow her mum into the ocean, or would she be abandoned forever?

Those questions would have to wait. All that mattered now was returning Madeline’s sealskin and righting a wrong.

“Hold on, Madeline,” I whispered to myself. “I’m gonna help you get home.”

On to Chapter Five!

by Karin Halle

After we came to the realisation that having separate apartments was a serious waste of money, my girlfriends and I elected to combine our resources and get a place together.

That’s right – girlfriends, plural. And by girlfriends, I really mean lovers.

My lovers are Alex and her sixteen-year-old daughter Louise. Plus me, Karin. That’s three women – okay, two women and a girl, to be precise. The three of us have been lovers for two years now, although Louise and her mother had been sexually intimate for a couple of years before I met them.

Sure, it’s unconventional, but it works for us. It gets tricky at times, because Louise and I are the true ‘couple’, but because she’s underage, Alex and I are the couple in the eyes of the world, and Louise is our adorable daughter. Complicated? Maybe, but it works.

We have lots of sex, but only do threesomes every once in a while. It’s agreed between us that we prefer giving undivided attention to just one lover at a time.

The main thing we all share, apart from each other, is a passion for art, which is why we set up a corner of the apartment where the light is best to use as a studio. Louise is a photographer, while Alex and I prefer painting, although we both sometimes indulge in photography as well.

Actually, Louise and I first met at a photographic exhibition that featured nude photos of a very-underage Louise – taken by her mother, who I’d met in an art class. That was when our crazy, tangled relationship began.

A few weeks ago, as Louise was nearing her sixteenth birthday, she got an idea stuck in her head about documenting herself in photos as she reached the age of consent. Several elements formed part of this project, but the centrepiece was to be a series of photographs that Louise planned to take of herself, naked and in extremely provocative poses. And Louise was very capable at being provocative.

The photo session commenced at five minutes before midnight, while Louise was still fifteen, and ended ten minutes later, by which time she was officially a year older. All the photos were only appropriate for publication in adult magazines, and she was underage in some of them, making those pictures theoretically illegal. The remainder of the shots, however, were not.

She set the camera to run automatically and capture a shot every five seconds, then adopted various poses for a continuous ten minutes. For some shots, she posed on a chair or some other prop that had been placed beforehand. The result was 120 shots – and once she’d developed them, the little minx complicated things by removing the date stamp from the images, then jumbling and retitling them with randomly selected letters, making it virtually impossible for anybody, even Louise, to distinguish the underage images from the legal ones with any certainty.

Louise selected twenty-five of the best photos to blow up and frame, then she booked space in an art gallery for an exhibition. That isn’t as big a deal as it sounds – the gallery was owned by her aunt Deanna, Alex’s sister. In fact, the room where Louise took the photos was in Deanna’s gallery. Like her niece and sister, Deanna liked to push boundaries – she had staged the exhibition at which I had first met Louise, an exhibition that featured many nude photos of young teens and children in addition to Louise. It had been a private showing, since the subject matter constituted what more than a few people would have labelled as child pornography.

Louise had ten prints made of each of the twenty-five original photos, intended to be sold as limited editions, personally signed and individually numbered by the artist herself.

The exhibition proved to be a successful one, and Louise ended up selling a generous number of her prints.

Alex, Deanna and I were all having a chat with Louise when she was approached by a woman who wanted to buy a print.

“It – it’s not for me, you understand,” the woman said. I couldn’t help but feel amused. Did she think we’d judge her for wanting an image of a beautiful naked girl?

Louise offered to add a personal dedication to her autograph, asking, “Who will I sign it to?” We could tell that she was teasing the woman a bit, but to the prospective buyer the enquiry sounded perfectly sincere.

We were all surprised when the flustered woman mumbled, “It’s for Chantel… she’s my daughter.”

Well, the woman looked to be a little younger than me, so she had to be somewhere in her mid-thirties. Which meant any daughter of hers would likely be no more than mid-teens, probably younger than Louise.

Obviously feeling a need to explain herself, the woman said, “My daughter likes girls, you see. She’s got pinup pictures of naked girls – you know, from magazines – on the back of her bedroom door. Anyhow, she has a big birthday coming up, and I wanted to get her something really special…” Her voice trailed off.

“How old will she be?” Louise asked. “Does she have a girlfriend yet?”

The woman’s face was unreadable as she quietly said, “Um, not yet, no. Chantel’s still so young. I’m sure she has crushes on girls she knows, though.”

“Ohhh! How sweet!” Louise exclaimed. The amount of empathy she was able to put into those few words amazed me, even though I already knew her so intimately.

Resting a hand on the woman’s arm – and I saw the woman shiver ever so slightly – Louise said, “That’s very thoughtful of you… so considerate. How do you spell her name?”

As the woman spelled out Chantel’s name, Louise wrote on the bottom margin of the print, To Chantel for her 13th birthday, with my congratulations and warmest wishes. Love, Louise. Each print had already been hand-signed with her name, so this extra message was a nice personal touch.

Introducing herself as Moira, Chantel’s mother was overjoyed to receive the photo, gushing, “Oh, thank you so much, Ms Whitcomb. She’ll really love this!”

Giving the woman an especially sultry look, Louise murmured, “If you are okay with allowing your daughter to come here, bring her in tomorrow and I’ll have something extra special for her — an exclusive photo. Not a print – a one-of-a-kind image.”

Overwhelmed, even blushing a little, the woman took the print that Louise had rolled up and popped into a protective tube, promising all the while that she would be back the following afternoon, Chantel in tow.

Even as I told Louise that she’d done a wonderful thing, I made it clear to her that I was far less naïve than the woman. And more suspicious. “Just what are you up to, my sweet?” I added.

“Oh, not much,” Louise replied casually – but not innocently. “I just thought that now that Chantel is a teenager, she just might be ready to get fucked.”

***

You have to understand: sexual exclusivity is not important to Alex or Louise.

I’m not like that – The notion of seeking out other sex partners has no real appeal for me. I’m quite satisfied with my two lovers. (Only two? Only?)

But as I’m not Alex’s girlfriend, I have no claim on her – she can do as she pleases.

Okay, so it’s a bit different with Louise – we are a loving, romantic couple. But I know that she sometimes has sex with girls at her school. I can accept that because I know she loves me and only fucks them for amusement. Mind you, that acceptance wasn’t always easy to achieve, as my upbringing was far more conventional than hers. Still, I don’t get jealous. There’s no need.

Admittedly, there is a gnawing feeling deep inside that someday Louise might meet and fall in love with someone else – someone who isn’t old enough to be her mother. If that does happen, it’ll hurt, but the pain will be easier to take if I can accept that it’s in her nature.

***

The following afternoon, Chantel and her mother arrived at Deanna’s gallery. As soon as they walked through the door, Louise spotted them and hurried over to introduce herself. She then made a point of taking the younger girl on a personal tour of the exhibition. Alex and Deanna were also showing little clusters of guests around, but Louise gave her new friend special VIP treatment.

That left me with Chantel’s mother, and we chatted a bit while strolling about, viewing the multiple images of a naked Louise. I found that very interesting – she’d seen the exhibit the day before, after all. Yet there she was, taking it all in as if for the first time.

“You have a lovely daughter,” I told her. “I’m sure she makes you very proud.”

“She’s the light of my life,” she told me. “Since my divorce, it’s just been the two of us.” She paused before an especially explicit shot of Louise, thighs spread apart and a hand resting about an inch from her vulva.

“I think it’s great that you’re okay with Chantel liking girls,” I told her. “Lots of mothers wouldn’t accept that at all.”

Moira blushed slightly. “I’m gay myself, actually,” she confessed. That surprised me; I’m usually spot-on when it comes to recognising lesbians. “It’s just that… well, I’m not quite as open about it as my daughter.”

“Girls like Chantel are the lucky ones,” I said. “They grew up in a more understanding time.”

Gazing across the room at her daughter, Moira nodded. “Chantel’s impatient for her first sexual experience. She hasn’t told me so, but I can tell.” With a wistful sigh, she added, “Her first lover will be one incredibly lucky girl. Or woman.”

Okay, that caught my interest in a big way. I didn’t really know this woman, and had only briefly met Chantel, but something about Moira made me wonder if she was sexually attracted to her daughter. She clearly adored the girl, though I sensed something more than just motherly affection.

Let’s face it, I was in a better position to recognise that kind of desire than most. I was in a romantic triad with a young girl who was also her mum’s lover… and my introduction to the lesbian life had been at the hands of my late daughter Larissa, who persuaded me to teach her everything about sex when she was terminally ill.

Does she really want Chantel that way? I asked myself, watching Moira carefully as she drifted from one erotic photograph to the next. Or is it just material she draws on for the occasional masturbation fantasy? 

Once we reached the last image, Moira sighed once more, closed her eyes for a few heartbeats, then turned to me. “Karin,” she said. “I have some errands to run… and, well, Chantel asked me earlier today if she could stay here in the meantime. I hate to ask, but could you…?”

“Look after her?” I replied. “Certainly, Moira. I’d be glad to.”

“She won’t need much looking after. Chantel is very mature for her age.”

“Not a problem, honestly. We can even provide lunch. I brought baked ziti, and there’s way too much for the staff and management.”

Taking my hand in hers, Moira gave it a squeeze. “Thank you, Karin. You’re making a sweet young girl very happy.” She leaned in close, her lips brushing my cheek, then left me with a shy smile. I watched her depart, admiring her figure. She had a lovely arse, and I wondered how it would feel in my hands.

Drifting over to where Louise and Chantel were standing, I let my lover know about Moira’s departure. Of course, that fitted quite nicely with her wicked plans for the daughter.

“This show is awesome,” Chantel declared, spreading her arms wide. “It’s so brave of you, Louise, doing something so… so important.” She had a determined set to her jaw. “I want to make art like this one day!”

That was Louise’s cue. “Would you be up for doing something truly daring in the way of art, then?” she asked. “If you mean what you say, I’ve got a project in mind that you’d be perfect for!”

“Maybe,” the barely teenaged girl answered, a bit cautiously. “What do you have in mind?”

So said the prey to the predator, I thought.

“I want to make a series of pictures, about girls loving each other,” Louise began, and I felt my knees start to tremble. “Very frank and sexual, not really suitable for display… something private. A personal kind of art, only allowed to be seen by a select few.”

I’d no idea whether Louise was getting anywhere with Chantel, but she was making my knickers damp.

“Sounds… interesting,” Chantel murmured, her expression giving nothing away..

“Are you game?” Louise purred, giving the girl an enticing smile.

“Hmmm. Well, I like girls… and I like pictures of girls – but you’re asking me to be in these, right? And I’d be, er, making love with another girl?”

Louise nodded. “Something like that.”

Chantel was mulling it over. “It sounds nice, but I’ve never done anything like that before. Don’t you want someone who, um, knows how? And I’m still just a kid, really. If you take pictures of me having sex, that could get you in huge trouble, I bet!”

I was impressed. This youngster was every bit as bright as she was beautiful.

Unfazed, Louise was quick to respond. “It’s true – photos of a girl your age having sex would be illegal. That’s why we’d keep them private, and no one would see them but people I trusted. And someone who’s never made love before is exactly what I want for this project.” Chantel opened her mouth to reply, but Louise raised her hand. “Take some time to think about it. Right now, I’ve got a special surprise for you… did your mum mention it?”

“A surprise? No,” Chantel answered, looking somewhat puzzled. “All Mum said was that she wanted to take me to this show, ‘cos she was sure I’d like it. So, um… what’s this surprise?”

“Come with me, and I’ll give it to you,” Louise said, leading the way to a door that led to Deanna’s private office suite. “Join us, Karin,” she added, glancing at me.

The prey was straying into the predator’s snare… and I realised that somehow, I’d been captured too. But I didn’t know just how trapped I was, not yet!

Louise invited us to sit on Deanna’s plush slate-grey sofa while she retrieved a small folder from a drawer in the coffee table. It contained the original prints of all the pictures that Louise had taken at her photo shoot, some colour, some black and white. “Here,” Louise said, handing the folder to Chantel. Pick out any one of these to keep. I’ll even sign it for you.”

To say Chantel was thrilled to bits would’ve been the understatement of the year. In fact, she seemed about to spontaneously combust as she pored through the folder’s contents, sighing and cooing over the many images of Louise in the nude. If I hadn’t already known Chantel was a budding lesbian, I certainly would have figured it out then.

The photo she finally chose was one that wasn’t selected for the exhibition. Louise had rejected it because she didn’t like the expression on her face. I couldn’t see anything wrong with it and, apparently, neither could Chantel.

The pose Louise adopted for that shot was pretty extreme. It was a colour photo of her casually seated in an armchair, one leg hanging over the arm, the other foot on the floor. Since she was naked with her legs open, Louise’s shaved pussy was in full view.

Louise certainly knew how to start Chantel’s motor. After going through all those pictures, the girl was visibly aroused, moving restlessly in her seat. I found myself wondering how wet her knickers were.

Taking the photo, Louise slipped it into a large display frame, then signed it, Thank you for liking me so much. I hope this picture brings you pleasure. With love, Louise Whitcomb. She even added a few X’s and O’s, then stood to give Chantel her prize.

Chantel was thankful beyond words. All but leaping up from the sofa, she hugged Louise – which was almost certainly what my wicked lover had been waiting for.

She returned the hug, then began moving her hands over and around the girl’s blooming body, dipping her head to place a tiny kiss on Chantel’s neck. Then another.

Before my eyes, Louise was seducing this beautiful young girl. There were no doubts about what my lover had in mind, and I suspected that my presence had been an integral part of her scheme. Now that Louise was making her move, I sensed it was time for me to leave.

I stepped towards the door, but Louise raised her head, making eye contact with me. She shook her head, mouthing the words “Don’t go.” I froze in mid-step as her mouth found Chantel’s, and they drifted into a slow, sensuous kiss. I knew those kisses well; they never failed to get my motor purring.

Feeling ridiculous, I stood where I was, waiting for Louise to give me some kind of hint about what she was up to. More than just a quick fuck with her new friend, I felt certain, but what else?.

The kiss was getting hot and heavy when Louise gently broke away and took the flushed girl by the hand. “You are exquisite, Chantel. Will you make art with me?”

Chantel said, “Um… okay,” but I heard her voice quiver a bit. She glanced at me, then back at Louise.

Opening the desk drawer once more, Louise extracted four glossy sheets that turned out to be proofs of some of the images from her portfolio – thirty small images printed on a single page, for easier comparison. The entire portfolio was on those few pages.

Handing the proofs to Chantel, Louise said, “This is what I want. Two people naked, in casual poses. There’ll be touching involved – probably a lot of touching, and even more, if you like. And we’ll be capturing it all on film. That’s why Karin’s here. She’s somebody I can trust.”

The explanation seemed to clarify things for Chantel, while it left me flattered, but puzzled. I’d learned a lot about photography since meeting Louise and becoming her lover, but I was nowhere in her league. Could I wield the camera skillfully enough to do justice to her vision?

“Karin is my lover, and I trust her completely,” Louise added, then smiled, “So, Chantel – are you game?”

When Chantel said, “Okay,” again, I noticed that she already sounded less apprehensive than she had mere moments ago. It appeared that our underage guest wanted what my lover was offering.

Louise led the way into the studio, which appeared not to have been used since she’d done her portfolio session there two weeks earlier. In fact, all the props were still in place. Opening a cupboard, Louise selected a camera which she passed to me, then she went over to where Chantel was standing.

Looking deep into the younger girl’s eyes – Is she trying to hypnotise her? I wondered – Louise said, “I’m going to undress you now, then I’ll take my clothes off. Karin will be taking photographs of us. Are you okay with that?”

“Yes, I – I think so,” Chantel told her.

“Good. Would you be more comfortable if Karin was naked, too…?”

That startled me. “Hey, wait! What?”

It wasn’t being nude that bothered me, just that events were unfolding so rapidly that I was having trouble keeping up. Still, I couldn’t deny that Louise’s suggestion appealed to me in a big way. Being naked with my sixteen-year-old lover and the even younger object of her wicked desire – was Chantel even thirteen yet? – was getting me dangerously hot.

Since my relationship with Louise began, I’d only had sex with her and her mum, Alex… which does sound quite kinky when you put it that way. Now I was convinced that Louise had plans to include me in her seduction of young Chantel, and it struck me that I was keen for it to happen.

My suspicions were confirmed when she told Chantel, “In fact, I think she ought to be included in these pictures. Would you like that?”

I could see arousal in the young girl’s eyes when she looked at me… though I wasn’t sure if she was really into sex with an older woman, or just thrilled with the whole erotic setup that Louise had staged. I didn’t know whether Chantel had ever done anything sexual… but with Louise calling the shots, she was certainly going to be engaged in a full-on carnal experience. I only hoped it wouldn’t be too much for her.

Taking her time with it, Louise undressed me. As she pulled my panties down, she quietly said, “I can smell you, lover – God, you are so ready for this!”

I don’t know whether Chantel heard that, but by then I didn’t care.

As I stood naked and on display, I saw Louise tearing up. “God, you are beautiful!” she said. “I love you so much, Karin.”

So what if I’m forty now, and not as firm and toned as I once was? If Louise approves, nothing else matters.

Reaching out, she lightly touched my vulva, thrilling me to the core. And knowing Chantel was watching Louise masturbate me only made it better. What a lovely girl she was. Though she was practically still a child, my longing for her was getting stronger by the second.

“You’re so wet!” Louise gasped. “This is turning you on big time, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yes!” I panted.

“Good, because you’re going to be very important to this session… essential, even.”

If I was going to photograph Louise making love to Chantel, what she said was the absolute truth. But knowing my scheming little lover as well as I did, my sixth sense told me she was keeping something back. I needed to find out what I was missing.

Folding my arms, I tried to compose myself – no easy task, seeing as Louise was still fondling me. “Be straight with me, love,” I said. “There’s more going on than you’re telling. What are you up to?”

Her response was to slip two fingers into my cunt. I gasped, my legs suddenly feeling very unsteady, and that was when Louise told me, “You’re going to be the one who fucks our guest, my love. I’ll be taking the pictures.”

I parted my lips to protest, but she interrupted me. “Listen to me, Karin. It has to be you. You’ll be sweet and gentle – it’s the way you always are, my love. You couldn’t ask for a better choice to make Chantel a woman.”

Before I could stammer out a reply, Louise hastened over to Chantel. “Will you let my darling Karin make love to you? She’ll make it wonderful.” She touched the girl’s cheek. “We will get together, you and I, but I’m afraid I might be a little too… let’s say intense for your first time.”

Nothing could have prepared me for what Louise told Chantel next. “You know, Karin once knew a teenage girl who was dying… and she wanted to experience sex before she was gone. Karin made that girl’s wish come true… It was a glorious experience for them both, and it will be for you, too.”

I shivered. Louise didn’t mention that the girl was my precious child Larissa, who was taken from me two days after I made love to her.

Cupping Chantel’s face in both hands, Louise kissed the girl, then added, “I’ll take some beautiful pictures of your first sexual experience… and you’ll get copies of them to treasure forever. Are you okay with that?”

She was making her wild scheme sound so reasonable that Chantel didn’t seem to need much in the way of persuasion. Of course, Louise was also fondling the girl’s arse while she spoke.

“Yeah, I guess,” Chantel breathed. Then in a more deliberately stated tone, she added, “Yes.”

I wasn’t entirely on board, though. “But I’m with you now, Louise,” I said. “We’re a couple.” Of course, I was also intimate with her mum, but that was really more of a loving family thing. Besides, I didn’t dare admit to that in Chantel’s presence. “It feels like I’m being unfaithful to you. I mean–”

Louise’s eyes smouldered with a deep intensity. “You’re not, though. I’ve thought about this for a long time, Karin. I want to watch you introduce a girl to the beauty of sex. To teach a virgin how to be a woman; how to love a woman. It’s something you’d be perfect for. Me, I’d be too much for a girl’s first fuck. You know how wild I get when we make love.”

She punctuated her remarks by trailing a finger through my slit, using the fingernail to scratch between my labia. I gasped. She enjoyed getting rough with me, but always made it seem as romantic as a passionate kiss. I love it, but then I’m used to Louise and how she gives pleasure.

And I realised that she was right – my lover was in no mood to be gentle with Chantel, even if it was the girl’s first time.

“You’ll do this, won’t you?” Louise whispered, her lips teasing my ear. “For me?”

What else could I do? Taking a deep breath, I gave her a nod.

With my surrender, Louise returned her attention to our guest. “Can I get you naked now, gorgeous?” she cooed.

“Yes,” Chantel replied, blushing slightly. I knew she wanted this, though..

Louise pointed to the camera and told me, “You take these first ones, Karin.”

I positioned myself, peering through the viewfinder, then readied myself for the first shot.

Meanwhile, just as slowly as she’d removed my clothes, Louise undressed young Chantel.

However old she was, this girl was ripening beautifully into womanhood. Her breasts were small, and had only recently grown past mere swellings on her chest. There was still a hint of plumpness around her middle, and the patch of dark blonde pubes wasn’t thick enough to conceal her sex.

I photographed the scene carefully, using the camera to document each part of Chantel’s body as it was teasingly revealed. I also took shots of her face, capturing the girl’s excitement. Her eyes shone, her tongue emerged to moisten her lips, her hands grew restless, as if she wanted to touch something.

Taking the nude adolescent by the hand, Louise led her over to me. “You two get started… I’ll take over with the pictures.”

Was I the canvas and Chantel the paint, or were those roles reversed? The only certainty was that Louise was making use of both in her quest to merge sex and art.

You have to understand that Louise wasn’t ordering either of us around… and I wasn’t humiliated by the thought of being used and displayed, even though this particular work would never appear in a catalogue, a museum or her portfolio.

In fact, Louise loves to show me off to her friends – the ones who shared her sexual interests, of course. Until a few weeks ago she was underage, and we had to keep our relationship a secret.

She has pool parties so I can make an appearance in a skimpy swimsuit, one she insists makes me look “luscious.” Her friends might not be as impressed as Louise is, but I couldn’t care less. I’m beautiful in her eyes, and that’s all that concerns me.

Now my lover was deploying me for a new, more thrilling purpose, and what resistance I had was rapidly evaporating like morning mist on a summer’s day. I was to guide this exquisite girl – who had to be at least a year younger than my poor Larissa had been.

By then, I was certain that Chantel was willing to participate in Louise’s art project, but I also suspected she only had vague ideas about what to do. So it was up to me to bring this potential masterpiece to life.

I knelt down in front of the timid preteen, so we were eye to eye. For an instant, I wondered whether to tell the girl what I was about to do… but that would be like asking her permission, so I quickly dismissed that idea.

Cupping the girl’s lovely face, I drew her to me for a kiss. A long kiss, one I hoped would build in sensuality, perhaps even result in her lips parting to receive my tongue. It didn’t happen, but I wasn’t discouraged.

Still kissing her – mostly pressing our lips together, really – I put the tips of my finger and thumb to her nipple and gave it a delicate tweak. That got a shiver.

Chantel still didn’t open her mouth, but began to work her lips against mine.

Taking a chance, I parted my own lips to see what the little girl would do. When her tongue came out to play, she didn’t slip it into my mouth – just traced my lips, the top then the bottom. So far, so good, I told myself.

I was hardly an expert at lesbian seduction… in fact, I’d never enticed anyone into bed. With my daughter, it had been a response to her heartfelt desire, and that experience had been far more about love than sex. As for Louise and her mother Alex, those two simply swept me off my feet.

So this was the first time I would ever initiate something purely sexual with a novice. Naturally, I had to be mindful not to rush things and risk ruining the entire afternoon for all of us, possibly even frightening Chantel.

With our mouths still pressed together, I took my left hand away from Chantel’s face and trailed it down her back, drifting over the girl’s bare body until I was cupping her unimaginably soft bum cheek. I felt her stiffen slightly, but her lips and her tongue didn’t falter.

Clutching her bum, I lightly pulled her hips forward, towards me. That got a bigger reaction.

Chantel sighed into my mouth, and her tongue followed the sigh. Now we could really kiss.

It was important to let Chantel set the pace and she was still learning, but I touched my tongue to hers a few times, drawing her into the dance. Soon we were kissing like real lovers.

I was playing with the girl’s stiffening nipples while my right hand explored the contours and crevice of her bottom. She had both arms hanging limply at her sides, but after a moment Chantel became adventurous. Raising her hand, she hesitantly placed it on my breast.

She broke the kiss to ask, “Is this all right?”

I murmured, “Yes, it is,” and she kissed me again, now with a greater intensity.

I allowed my right hand to drift down, slowly gliding between her cheeks and lower, where I could get at her pussy from the rear. Carefully extending a finger, I trailed it through the girl’s slit, thrilled to realise how wet she was.

Chantel whimpered into my mouth and her knees buckled a little, then she thrust her bum out – as if she wanted to force her vagina onto my finger!

That didn’t happen, not quite – but it made me feel somewhat nervous. Was I expected to literally take this young girl’s virginity? I looked over Chantel’s shoulder to see Louise, camera in hand, recording the scene. She met my anxious gaze, smiled and mouthed the words, “It’s okay… keep going,” then went back to work.

Suddenly I wondered whether Louise had ever intended to perform with Chantel for these photos… or if it had been her intention to set me up with this underage girl from the very start. After a moment’s reflection, I decided it had to be the latter.

If I hadn’t been swapping passionate kisses with Chantel, I’d have shaken my head in awe at Louise’s ability to make me dance to her tune with a snap of the fingers.

Still, it occurred to me that Chantel might still have her hymen – and if so, I didn’t want to break it, even if she wanted me to. So I decided to pleasure her another way. Placing both hands on her hips, I guided her just a bit to the side. That enabled me to slip my left knee between her legs. Then I drew her slender body into mine until she was straddling my thigh.

Oh, God, Chantel’s slit was so warm and wet against my bare skin, and the scent of her… intoxicating! Then there was the ecstatic expression the girl wore as she began to grind herself forward and back, her breath growing ragged as she rode my leg.

Louise broke her silence. “Christ… that is so fucking hot! Keep doing that; it’s perfect! Oh, damn, I have to get my… just don’t stop, okay?”

She turned away for a moment, then turned back, clearly searching for something. Looking back at me, she insisted, “Don’t get her off, Karin, not yet! Don’t let her come.”

With a cry of triumph, Louise found what she was looking for. Dashing across the room, she seized another camera, one mounted on a tripod, then hastened behind my back to set it in place. I heard her fiddling with the setting, and wondered what she was up to.

Then Louise was back in view again. Now she was kneeling at Chantel’s back, her camera pointed directly at the place where the girl’s smooth vulva made contact with my thigh.

“Okay, that’s good,” Louise said, though I could detect a tremor in her voice. “Go for it! Chantel, you can come whenever you like.”

With her head on my shoulder, her lips brushing my neck, Chantel humped me faster. I felt her body tremble against me, the rasp of her breath hot in my ear… she was close to going off.

Suddenly a hard jerk raced through Chantel’s frame, she inhaled sharply… then a hoarse cry broke from the throat of my underage lover as she came.

She whimpered and shook, thrusting her sex against my leg, riding me without once breaking contact. I felt her hot juices trickle over my skin, as if she was marking me, claiming me.

And all the while, Louise was recording the entire lurid scene.

At last Chantel slumped against me, panting and sweating. “Oh… oh, fuck!” she gasped.

“Well, sort of,” Louise agreed. “But that’s just the first part. Now I want to take some pictures of you on your own.”

Somewhat frustrated that Chantel had been permitted to climax while I was left high and not at all dry, I watched as Louise led the girl to some of the props she had gathered for the occasion.

Unless Louise had plans to somehow involve me further in her game, I would have to sit by and watch. Upon reflection, I realised that in some ways, that was fine with me.

As appealing as it might be to have Chantel attend to my pleasure, I didn’t want to be a trial run for her to learn about making love to a woman. Much better to leave that to the two teenagers.

Me, I preferred to wait until that evening, when I would be brought to multiple orgasms by the nimble fingers and mouth of my darling Louise. For the moment, though, she was absorbed by leading Chantel through the next segment of the photo session. She had no idea just how hungry I would be for her in a few short hours. Just thinking about making my lover work overtime to get me off was enough to put a smile on my dial.

By that time, Louise had her underage model stretched out on the sofa, legs spread wide open.

“Okay, Chantel… It’s time to make yourself come. Do whatever you like, and I’ll be capturing it on film. Rub your pussy, play with your nipples, spread yourself for the camera, finger yourself! How does that sound? Want to fuck yourself? Take your cherry while we watch?”

God, I loved Louise’s dirty imagination. Was Chantel going to do any of those things? Or all of them? Was she still intact … at whatever age she was? I still had no idea.

Not that it mattered whether she still had her hymen or not. This girl was no longer truly innocent – not after she’d rubbed herself off against me.

I was suddenly curious about what Louise had been shooting on the second camera, the one she’d started up just before encouraging Chantel to come. I wandered over to the tripod, where she’d left it. The camera was still running, but there was nothing in its focus, so I switched off the automatic shutter control, then checked the memory.

The sight took my breath away. Louise had gone for a close-up of Chantel as she came. Every expression on her beautiful face, every instant of the young girl’s rapture had been captured… and preserved for eternity!

Hearing a soft cry, I looked across the room to where Louise was photographing Chantel, who was frigging herself, then back at the images of the child on the camera.

Viewed simultaneously, these images sent an almost violent wave of arousal through me. I slumped to the floor, both legs wide apart, and set about getting myself off. It took less than a minute.

Afterwards, we three climbed onto the huge sofa and snuggled up together. Chantel announced, “Wow, kissing that way is really nice… and you’re both soooo good at it.”

From there, it seemed completely natural for us to drift back into kissing, exploring all kinds of lovely games that the lips and tongue could play. In the midst of our fun, Chantel wanted to know how Louise and I had become lovers. We did make a rather unusual couple, after all.

Louise told more of our story than I’d expected. She didn’t say anything more about my daughter and me, but did end up admitting she’d been introduced to lesbian sex by her own mother Alex – and that they were still occasionally intimate.

Chantel was staggered by that particular reservation – thankfully, not offended. In fact, once the initial shock had dispersed, she was clearly intrigued by the idea, asking questions such as, “What’s it like, then – sex with your mum?” So Louise told her. Needless to say, she had a way of making incest seem as natural as the sunrise, and every bit as beautiful.

The talk was getting very randy – and so was our mood. Before long, we were getting hot and heavy again – and Chantel was enjoying her first threesome.

I got down on my knees and nuzzled a pathway between the girl’s legs, determined to get a real taste of her pussy. Burying my nose in the softness of those sparse blonde pubes, I plunged my tongue into her, rolling it around.

Chantel’s flavour was divine… even ambrosial! By then, I’d come to love the sweet, sharp tang of a young girl’s nectar, and our underage guest had plenty for me to enjoy.

An upward glance told me that Louise and Chantel were still swapping passionate kisses, but a moment later, Chantel got my attention in a big way when she asked my lover, “What Karin’s doing t-to me… er, can I try it on you?”

“Are you sure, sweetie?” Louise murmured. “Don’t feel you have to… pay us back or anything.”

Chantel was having a difficult time keeping her voice steady, but she managed to get out, “No, I – I want to learn everything.” She panted for a few breaths, then added. “All the, the things g-girls do together! Ohhhh…”

Louise smiled. “I guess you’re ready, then.” Quickly kneeling on the sofa, she straddled Chantel’s face, then lowered her hips, feeding her cunt to the girl.

As I went down on Chantel, I tried to imagine what it was like for her at that moment, giving her first oral to a firework like Louise, tasting that luscious pussy. I’d been in that position many’s the time, as Louise really enjoyed riding a lover’s mouth. She could get pretty intense with it, too – literally fucking your face when the mood took her.

I could hear Louise egging the girl on: “That’s it, Chantel, lick my cunt… ooohhh, m-make me come in your face. Mmmm, yes, yes, fuck me with that hot little mouth. Oh. OH!”

Louise was the only one of us who had yet to come, and I knew she had to be skating awfully close to the edge. Chantel was approaching her second orgasm, and I decided to ease up on her until she got Louise off. Then I’ll make her scream my name, I thought.

“S-suck my clit!” Louise blurted – and thirty seconds later, she was wailing like a banshee, twisting and tugging her nipples with both hands. Finally, spent and swaying from side to side, she dismounted Chantel’s face and collapsed in a shaking, sweaty heap at the end of the sofa. As for our lesbian novice, she was panting for breath and couldn’t speak, but the hunger I saw in her eyes told me she was ready

Now it was my time to shine. I started with long, deep licks that began near the anus and swept up to her clit, then I pressed her legs up and back, then thrust my tongue into the crack of her arse. “Fuck!” Chantel gasped, caught by surprise.

I rimmed her for a minute or so, then homed in on the girl’s clitoris, taking it between my lips. She came right away, her ragged cries of ecstasy music to my ears.

***

By the time Chantel’s mother returned, the photo session was finished. So was Chantel.

Alex brought Moira through to the studio, and after some banal chat, Louise said she had something to show from our session.

I panicked at the thought of what my lover might have decided was appropriate – from what I’d seen, there couldn’t have been very much.

Turned out I was wrong. Louise’s artistry is remarkable. She had several poster-sized pictures ready to present to Chantel and her mum.

One was of Chantel’s face, caught in the very instant of ecstasy. The picture had been carefully cropped and edited to ensure that nothing but the girl’s face was in the frame.

Another picture showed Chantel nude, perfectly replicating the pose that Louise had adopted in the photo-print Moira had purchased for her daughter’s birthday when we first met her. Of course, it had been signed by Louise.

On the border at the bottom, Louise had added a special message – To Chantel for her 13th birthday, with my congratulations, love and warmest wishes. Louise.

The third poster was smaller, a gift for Chantel’s mum. In it, her daughter was nude, sitting demurely. She had an arm across her chest, although one breast was partially visible. Her pubic hair could be seen, along with a hint of something that might have been either a shadow or the tip of her slit.

Moira was overjoyed to the point of shedding tears, thanking Louise and me again and again… and I wasn’t the only one who noticed the way she kept looking at the naked images of her child. I recalled how I’d wondered if Moira took a more than motherly interest in Chantel, and Louise gave me a very significant glance, as if to say, Very interesting.

As for Chantel, she had a glow about her that practically said “freshly fucked,” but her mum didn’t seem to notice. If she did, would Moira even be upset? I asked myself.

I noticed Louise whispering to Chantel, but couldn’t hear what she was saying. The girl nodded eagerly, and my curiosity was aroused. What were they planning?

***

Despite the sex Louise and I had already enjoyed, the sheer eroticism of our experience with Chantel all but guaranteed that we’d both be in severe need once Alex got us back to the apartment.

Once indoors, Louise and quickly I excused ourselves. I told Alex that Louise and I were tired and needed to rest before dinner. Of course, Louise had to tell her, “Mum, we need to fuck!” Alex’s laughter followed us up the stairs as we made our escape.

After a couple of lusty and unladylike romps in the sheets, Louise and I lay together quietly together, our lust slaked for the moment.

But Louise had a confession to make. “I always intended for you to be with Chantel – you know that, right?”

“Well, yeah – now I do.”

“I thought you might like to give a girl her first experience with a woman. I mean, I know you did that for your daughter, but that was different. That was about love, not sex, and you were helping her because she was sick and in need. I wanted you to have something like that again… but under happier circumstances.”

Uncertain about my feelings at that moment, but recognising the kindness underlying Louise’s gesture, I simply said, “Thank you.”

“You and Chantel were amazing together, too! I got some incredible footage. Know what else?”

With Louise it was never possible for me to ‘know what else’, and I told her as much.

“Well…” She spoke softly, as if unveiling a national secret. “You know all those photos that I took of you and Chantel? I’m going to make them into a new exhibition. Not all of them, of course – there’s a few hundred images, so it’ll only be the best ones. And of course I’ll crop them so they don’t reveal any faces.”

I’ll wager I went an unhealthy shade of grey right then, but Louise didn’t notice. “But that’s not the really big news!”

What more could there possibly be? I was too nervous to ask, so I let a helpless shrug ask for me.

“There’s more shots that I want, so Chantel’s coming to Aunt Deanna’s studio again on Saturday. She really wants to be with you again, Karin. And this time, I’ll get some really hot photos of you fucking each other.”

“For the exhibition?” I gasped, “You can’t… you wouldn’t be allowed to exhibit pictures like that! It would be  straight out child pornography!”

“Oh, those won’t be for the exhibition, silly! Chantel wants them for her private collection!”

There was an unusual squeaking sound, like a rusty gate opening – and it was coming from my throat. I’d never made a sound like that before.

“But I might put some of the purely sex pictures into a limited edition book that I can sell privately. You know, to ‘special’ art collectors. I might make a fortune – well, we might. You and me and Chantel. It’ll be a three-way split.”

The whole notion was insane, but when Louise began to rub my still-wet pussy, her insanity didn’t seem to matter so much.

“Sometimes I feel a bit guilty for fucking my friends, ‘cause you don’t have any lovers besides me and Mum. But now you’ll have Chantel… she’ll be your little piece on the side!”

Now Louise slipped a finger into me, and all good sense seemed to pack up and vacate my head. At that point, if my lover asked me to go down on Chantel on the gallery floor as part of her exhibit, my only questions would be, Which room?

“And did you notice the way Chantel’s mum looked at those pictures?” she continued, thrusting that finger in and out. “Oh, I know that look. That Moira woman has a major thing for her daughter! We’ve got to figure out some way to get her involved in this…”

Withdrawing from my cunt, Louise applied that finger to my needful clit as she continued her spiel: “Can you imagine it, seeing Chantel and her mum make love for the first time? God, that would be the hottest! Maybe we could start by asking Moira to pose for us while Chantel is there…?”

My lover continued to rub me to what I knew would be a mind-destroying orgasm, all the while drawing me deeper and deeper into another one of her crazy, forbidden, enticing schemes.

The End

Author’s note: I am, once again, grateful to Jetboy for applying his editing skills, for his suggestions and contributions, and for his amazing ability to make any additions fit in so seamlessly.

by Rachael Yukey

“Nettie, do you have anything to add?”

Every fiber of my being silently screamed no. The people occupying the circle of chairs in the big conference room swam in and out of my vision, transmogrified into bizarre little fat frog people, then snapped back into focus.

A handful of cops, a veritable horde of firefighters, and the crew of the rig that had transported the dump truck driver, one of whom was Terry Wilder. I’d spent the entire meeting avoiding his eyes.

The four meeting facilitators were seated together, wearing dark polos with Crisis Incident Stress Management logos on the left breast. Other than Terry and the facilitators, most of those present were people I’ve known for as long as I could remember.

Robbie Wachinsky and Jessie Kramer flanked me on either side. Had the three of us really made the mad dash to Johnstown only two days before, the wreckage of Jason Bixley laid out before us? It seemed like a lifetime.

I hadn’t slept since fleeing Terry’s house that morning. The day had passed in a hazy cloud of booze, with a soundtrack provided by a litany of heavy metal albums, mostly recorded before I was born. Around noon I’d taken a bath, whiskey bottle in hand and the bathroom door open so Judas Priest could filter through, Rob Halford calling out to me, warning that “In the dead of night, love bites.” You bet your ass it does. I’d masturbated to a joyless orgasm in the tub, not even trying to block out images of Halee, dissolving into tears as it subsided.

Returning to the living room naked and dripping, I’d checked my phone. There was a text message from Terry. He’s the only person I know that texts in full sentences.

It seems you must have remembered a VERY early appointment at the last minute. I would ask you if everything’s OK, but I guess I know better than that. I hope you’re still thinking about the debrief tonight. It really would help a lot of people out if you were there, and dare I suggest that it might not be so bad for you as well? Take care.

It had taken a few minutes for the subtext of it to seep into my exhausted, booze-addled brain. This was the last straw; Terry had been flaked on one too many times.

The tears came once more, this time with shocking force. My legs had buckled, and I’d huddled naked in a ball on the floor, shaken by great braying sobs that threatened to tear me apart.

Now there I was, seated amongst this circle of humanity, completely hollowed out. My head ached, I was still carrying a light buzz from the last-minute drink I’d tossed down just before leaving my apartment, and I was so exhausted it was almost impossible to think.

We’d been here for well over an hour, talking through the horrendous events of two days prior. The discussion flowed easily around the room as people shared their thoughts, feelings, and recollections. Grown men wept. Jessie, seated to my right, had been running the waterworks the entire time and seemed in no hurry to turn them off.

I contributed little, speaking only when spoken to. A nod here, a word of affirmation there. And now, the facilitator, who happened to be somebody I worked with on occasion at Thormleton, wanted to know if I had something to add.

Sure, I’ve got something to add, you fat fuck. I’ll add garlic and barbecue sauce to your nuts when I roast them over an open fire, how about that?

I straightened, ignoring the wave of pain, and forced a transformation. When I spoke, it wasn’t the drunk, tired bitch who’d spent most of the day drowning in a puddle of booze mixed with a generous dollop of her own tears. It was Antoinette Hastings, critical care paramedic, and I spoke in a voice both strong and authoritative. At least that’s what I tried for.

“If you’re asking for my clinical assessment,” I said, “we were presented with a hopeless case. He bled out before the extrication was completed. Probably before the rescue crews even made it to the scene.”

My eyes circled the room, making eye contact with each man or woman in turn. “I was very impressed with the extrication crew,” I went on. “I work all the time with bigger, better equipped services than this one, and I don’t think anybody could have gotten him out of there any faster. Especially considering that the car was on fire. You guys did a fantastic job.”

I paused, drawing in a deep breath. Every word seemed a tremendous undertaking.

“I guess that’s all I really want to say. The firefighters got the car cracked open as quick as it could have been done, and once we had him I doubt it even took forty-five seconds to get him into the rig. Robbie and Jessie did… hell, I’d go as far as to say a perfect job assisting me during the resuscitation effort.”

I looked to the right, my eyes falling upon Jessie. The girl looked as if she hadn’t slept in two days.

“You really did,” I said. “We lost a young man on Thursday, and nothing anybody can say will make that any easier. But everybody in this room did work they can be proud of trying to save him.”

I settled back, exhausted.

The meeting wrapped up, and people began trickling out of the room. Hands were shaken, hugs were shared. More tears were shed. Stuck in the epicenter, I did my best to be gracious. Almost everyone approached me before leaving the room, thanking me for coming with tears in their eyes, sometimes drawing me into a hug.

I felt husked out, incapable of emotion. Finally, I was able to leave. As I stepped through the conference room door and into the ambulance garage, I saw Terry Wilder standing next to one of the rigs, speaking with a small group of firemen. He shook their hands as they passed on. Jessie Kramer approached him hesitantly, and he swept her into a hug. She buried her face in his chest, her shoulders heaving. Terry said something to her that I couldn’t hear, squeezing her tightly in his arms.

He’s good at this, I thought. I wish to God I was.

I got my brain in gear, and my feet followed with alacrity. I strode towards the exit door. Terry caught my eye, and held up a finger. Damn it; what the hell does he want? I considered making a run for it, then decided I’d done enough of that for one weekend. Moving to the side, I leaned against the wall of the garage. The hangover was beginning to take shape, and it was going to be a bruiser.

Terry let Jessie go, shook the hand of a Sheriff’s deputy who was passing by, and beckoned me to follow him. We crossed to the other side of the garage, and Terry punched in the combination code that opened the door to the office.

It was a good-sized room, with walls of old cinderblock and office furniture that looked as if it hailed from the Woodstock era. The flatscreen monitor and the big, modern fax printer seemed out of place. Terry settled into one of the two old office chairs, and I took the other.

He fixed his gaze upon me in the harsh light of the office fluorescents, eyes widening. “Jesus, Nettie.”

“What?”

“How shall I put this? You look like hell.”

“You’re not exactly Brad Pitt yourself,” I said, trying to sound flippant. Even to my own ears, it came out flat and dull.

He peered at me intently. “First I thought you must have been crying, then I thought you must have been drinking, but my unparalleled powers of deduction are now suggesting that it’s both.”

“What do you care? We’re just fuck-buddies now, right?”

Terry’s face hardened. The chair creaked as he put all his weight against the back.

“Fine,” he said. “The reason I snagged you is that you forgot about the labs that were being faxed over from our call last night. I got to thinking about it around noon, strolled on over here to get a look, and lo and behold – there upon the fax machine lay the besainted object of your forgotten desires.”

He handed me a small stack of papers from the desk.

“Labs and tox screen both. I thought you might still want to see it. Besides, I’m kind of curious myself, and most of what’s in there might as well be pig latin to me.”

Leaning forward, I took the papers from him without a word, but in my mind humiliation and self-loathing chased one another across the neural pathways. You forgot about Jason Bixley’s labs and autopsy too, you idiot.

Terry seemed to be reading my mind.

“Did you get the Bixley info?” he asked.

I shook my head, not trusting myself to speak, and forced my bleary eyes to focus on the lab reports in my hand. I could feel my eyes narrowing as I sifted through the sheaf of paper. My mind shifted to a higher gear, and the clouds faded a little.

“Something interesting?” Terry asked.

“A lot of things.”

I flipped from the labs to the tox screen, then back again. “How much of this kind of thing do you actually understand?”

“Just barely enough to be dangerous,” he said. “Didn’t you know EMTs are like monkeys? You can teach us to use tools to a limited extent, but expecting us to comprehend things? Dat just be crazy talk.”

“Then I’ll spare you the details,” I said. “The labs are… all over the place. Some stuff is elevated as hell, other stuff is a lot lower than it should be. The LFT… that’s liver function test… is particularly screwy. It’s what you’d expect from a fifty-year-old alcoholic, not a seventeen-year-old volleyball player. I sure hope there’s no long-term damage. The tox screen is negative, and there’s no way that can possibly be right. Sam Jensen was on something. The ED staff apparently thinks so too. There’s a note from Doctor Benson on the bottom that he’s going to talk to the state poison control center and see if they can get an answer.”

Terry sat forward and rubbed his chin with the palm of his hand. “So what does it all mean? Remember: monkey. Primitive tool usage, not deep understanding.”

“It means that wherever Sam was before she wandered home at 2 AM, they were messing around with something a standard tox screen won’t pick up on. We might be looking at something new.”

Skepticism was written all over Terry’s face. “You’re seriously going to tell me that there’s something floating around Franklin County that hasn’t already made its way through the major population centers? Perhaps my primitive monkey brain is preventing me from grasping the larger picture with ultimate clarity, however – oh, never mind. I call bullshit.”

I leaned back in the chair and closed my eyes. The last of the buzz had faded, and all that remained was the rotten throbbing in my temples.

“I’m not trying to tell you anything, Terry. I don’t have a single fucking clue what it is. I’ll call about Jason Bixley’s stuff tomorrow, I guess.”

“Nettie…” My eyes flew open at his tone. “I’m going to say it,” he said at last. “You need to get some help, or do something. You’re not well. This is not a new problem; I’ve seen you sleeping. It was worse than I let on Thursday night, and it’s hardly the first time.”

“Just… just stop.” I got up, and a wave of nausea assailed me. I stood still for a moment while it passed, leaving a vague queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. I turned to leave, but Terry was by my side, a gentle but firm hand on my arm.

“Hear me out, Nettie,” he said. “You owe me that much. This isn’t the first time I’ve had cause to worry about you, but it is the scariest thing I’ve seen so far. Forgetting to follow up on a patient of interest isn’t like you at all – as in I can’t believe it’s actually happening. How far does this go before you’re not even capable of doing your damn job anymore?”

I looked away. “Leave it alone, Terry. I’m fine, it’s just… I’m fine.”

My stomach heaved. Knowing that I’d never make the bathrooms, I fumbled the door open and ran for the big garbage cans at the far end of the garage. Somewhere in the back of my mind it registered that the place had emptied of people during the few minutes we’d spent in the office. Thank god for small favors.

I batted a lid aside, and leaned over the can. My hair fell forward, and I felt it being pulled back a split second before the contents of my ill-used stomach came up in a hot, loose rush. I vomited for what felt like forever, until nothing was left but wretched, aching dry heaves. I was crying again, weary tears falling straight into the can to mingle with the smelly mess inside.

I straightened, casting a glance over my shoulder. It was Terry holding my hair back; of course it was. Now he was guiding me towards the worktable near the exit door, taking some tissues from a nearby Kleenex box, and gently wiping my eyes and mouth. He tried to draw me into an embrace. I almost surrendered to it, I wanted to, but instead I placed my hands on his chest, holding him at bay.

“I have to go.” It came out as a strangled whisper.

“Bullshit,” he said. “Come back to my place. We’ll set you up in the guest bedroom if that’s how you want to do it, but the last thing you need is to go home alone right now.”

I wavered, and nearly succumbed. His long, slim hands gripped my upper arms. It would be so easy to let those hands pull me close, to collapse into his embrace. But what would become of me then?

I screwed up the last vestiges of my resolve. “No, Terry,” I said. The tears were flowing freely. I realized this was the first time he’d ever seen me cry, and the shame ran deep. “I’ll — I’ll see you on the ambulance.”

A cold, steady drizzle had set in during the debriefing. Pulling the hood of my sweatshirt up, I set off.

“Did you walk, Nettie? At least let me give you a ride,” Terry’s voice called out from behind me. I kept on moving. Looking over my shoulder from two blocks away, I could see him still standing under the eaves of the ancient building, his hands shoved into the pockets of his reflective coat, watching me go. Resolutely facing forward again, I forced myself to pick up the pace.

***

I stumbled into the lobby of my apartment building, fumbling in my jeans for the keys. Looking up, I started at the sight of a figure leaning against my door, arms folded across her chest.

“Halee,” I said. “What…” My voice caught in my throat. Halee was the pinnacle of gorgeous young gothiness in a knee-length black denim skirt, ankle boots, and a leather jacket. Just a touch of dark coloration adorned her lips, and I wondered if she’d dare to wear that lipstick in her dad’s presence. She peeled herself languorously off the doorjamb and took a step towards me. Then she stopped, her eyebrows nearly disappearing into her hairline.

“You look awful,” she observed.

I got my keys out of my pocket, awkwardly separated out the one to my apartment and shoved it into the lock. “What are you doing here?” I got out, ushering her ahead of me into the entryway.

“I had to see you,” she said. “I was kind of a bitch this morning, and I didn’t want you to be mad at me.”

“Forget about it,” I said, dropping to the couch like a rag doll. I rested my aching head on a throw pillow and closed my eyes. “Halee, does your father know you’re here?”

She scoffed. “God, no. I told him I was going to a friend’s house.” She was standing over me, concern written all over her face. “Nettie, you look sick. Is there any way I can help?”

I stared up at her. Halee had always struck me as being about five years older than she really was, but never so much as right now. I reached up, caught hold of a hand, and squeezed.

“I just need to down a big glass of water and sleep,” I told her. “That’s all. I’ll be okay by morning.”

“Then come on,” she said, tugging at my hand. “Let’s get you to bed, and I’ll bring some water.”

I let Halee pull me to my feet, groaning as a wave of pain washed over me. Halee was casting her eyes around the room, trying to figure out what was where, and it dawned on me that she’d never been in my apartment before.

I gently pulled my hand away. “I can find my own way to bed,” I assured her. “I have to use the bathroom, anyway.”

“Then I’ll bring you something to drink,” she insisted. “Where’s your bedroom?”

“End of the hall,” I informed her as I hauled my tired ass towards the bathroom. Even tired and hungover, the idea of Halee entering my bedroom made my stomach tighten.

I peed, cleaned up a little, and with a final effort of will, got my teeth brushed. When I made it to the bedroom, Halee had just placed a steaming mug on the nightstand.

“I found teabags and some honey,” she said. “I thought if you’re not feeling good, maybe this would go down better. Where do you keep your pajamas?”

I groaned. I didn’t give a wretched rat’s ass about pajamas at that particular moment in time. “Who needs ‘em?” I said.

She looked me up and down. “What, you’re going to sleep in your jeans and sweatshirt?”

I sat down heavily on the bed. “Wouldn’t be the first time,” I mumbled, lifting the steaming hot mug to my lips. Halee was right; the hot, honey-sweet beverage soothed both my mouth and my stomach.

“C’mon, where?”

I gestured towards the dresser. “Middle drawer. But I don’t need a mommy to dress me.”

Halee crossed the room, opened the drawer in question, and selected a fuzzy blue top-and-bottom set. She smiled a little as she returned to the bed. “I kind of like the idea of being your mommy,” she said primly. I gaped at her.

“Here, put ‘em on,” she said.

“You gonna just stand there while I undress?” I replied.

“Yup.”

I pulled the hoodie over my head, followed by my t-shirt. Halee’s eyes were fixated on my chest, and I debated about the bra for a moment. Of course I wasn’t going to sleep in it, but it might be… well… safer to not take it off in front of her. The only problem with that was I liked the way she was looking at me. Fucked up as I was, I was still getting turned on by her scrutiny.

I reached behind my back and slowly, deliberately, unclasped the bra, pulled it free of my chest and tossed it to the floor. Halee’s lips were parted, just a little. Her eyes looked a little glassy.

“Like what you see?” I taunted in a low voice.

“Yeah.” It came out as a croak. I tugged the pajama shirt over my head and down. It’s one of my favorites, soft and comfortable. Then I stood, unzipped, and pushed my jeans to the floor. Stepping out of them and kicking them away, I reached for the pajama bottoms. I took a little longer than I needed getting into them, but not too long. There was something incredibly erotic about all this, but I really was at the end of my endurance.

I sat on the bed again, this time positioning a couple of pillows so I could prop myself into a sitting position against the headboard. Lifting the mug, I took another sip of tea.

“Thanks, Halee,” I said, meaning it. “I think I’m just going to read for awhile while I drink this, then sleep. You should get home before your dad decides to check up on you. And I’m sorry about the way things went this morning. I really am.”

“Can we talk about it sometime?” Her voice broke as she said it. Her eyes were desperate, pleading.

“Soon,” I promised her. I knew it was a bad idea, something that could lead us down all the wrong roads, but I was just too tired, too fucking beat to care. “Halee?”

“Yeah?”

“I need something to keep me awake while I drink this. There’s a book on the big shelf in my living room called Mechanical Ventilation. Could you bring it to me?”

Halee left without a word, returning moments later with a large hardcover book that’s nothing less than the bible on management of a ventilated patient. Handing it to me, she made a face. “This is your idea of a relaxing bedtime story?”

I smiled. “It’ll force me to stay awake while I get hydrated.”

“Okay.” She leaned over and kissed my forehead. Weary though I was, hurting though I was, dehydrated though I was, I had to fight the urge to meet her lips with mine.

“Thanks, Halee,” I said again. She smiled shyly at me and slipped out the door.

***

“Don’t be afraid to dig into the rib cage and find those spaces,” I said to the head full of fiery red hair. “When you’re working with me, putting the twelve-lead on will mostly be your job, and if you don’t get the ECG electrodes placed correctly I won’t be able to trust anything the monitor is telling me.”

Dana Fraser didn’t look up. She merely nodded and pushed down harder with her fingertips.

“Sure,” said the shirtless young man lying on the cot in the conference room. “It’s easy to say that when it’s not your chest she’s poking.”

“Sorry,” Dana said in a plaintive tone.

Darren Tanner grinned. “No problem. I’m just giving your boss-lady there a hard time. Do what you gotta do.”

It was Dana’s first day at Thormleton Ambulance, and I was making a valiant effort to curb my annoyance. My problem wasn’t with her; she was eager to learn and an apt enough pupil. But dammit, new EMT hires were supposed to spend about two weeks training and going on calls with an experienced team before they were sent out as half of a two-person crew.

That’s how it worked in theory, but we’re short personnel as is, and two crew members had called in sick. We had to just stick Dana on a truck and hope for the best. It’s not as bad as it sounds; an EMT on an Advanced Life Support crew acts mostly as driver and assistant to the paramedic. Of course, I’m the clinical director at Thormleton, which puts me in charge of training. So guess who got stuck with the newbie?

Dana straightened, turning to glance up at me. Roughly 102,324 freckles, by my calculation. I inspected the placement of the electrodes, wishing this was something that was taught in EMT school.

“Looks good,” I said, turning my eyes to the monitor and inspecting the readout. “Now pull a snapshot.”

Dana pressed a button on the monitor, then paused for a moment when a prompt came up.

“How old are you?” she said, looking down at her ‘patient’.

“Twenty-six,” said Darren, looking amused. “You might wanna watch how you phrase that question when it’s a little old lady you’re doing this to.”

Dana smiled, punched in the information, and then sat back. A long strip of paper issued from the top of the machine, which she tore off and handed to me.

“I have no idea what it means,” she admitted.

“Me, either,” Darren assured her. “I’ve been doing this long enough that I know what normal looks like, but I can’t look at a twelve-lead and tell you what’s up with somebody’s heart.”

“Are you going to get your medic?” Dana asked him.

“Nope. I’m starting nursing school this fall.”

Noticing the way they were looking at each other, I suppressed a smile.

“It’s not your job to know how to read it,” I told Dana. “So long as you can properly place the electrodes and get me a snapshot, I’m happy. It’s harder with a female patient, by the way. I’ll have you put one on me later if you’re comfortable with that.”

Dana fixed me with an appraising sidelong look. She’s checking me out, I realized. I’ve been bi long enough to be able to read the signs. Yeah, she’s obviously attracted to Darren, but I’ll bet my next paycheck she works both sides of the street.

“Okay,” she said after a long pause.

“You done with me?” asked Darren. I nodded. He sat up, swung his legs off of the cot, and began ripping the electrodes from his chest, wincing a little with each one.

“At least chicks don’t have to worry about their chest hair getting pulled out,” he muttered.

“If you think that, you’ve never put a twelve-lead on Barfing Bonnie,” I said with a snort of laughter.

Dana seemed to be mulling something over. “Is medic school very hard?” she asked.

“Depends,” I said. “I took a certificate course that runs thirteen months, and it’s a hell of a lot of information packed into that timeframe. It wasn’t too bad for me, but I was eighteen and still living with my mom. Some of the others had kids and full-time jobs.”

Dana’s eyes widened. “You went to medic school when you were eighteen? You must have just got your EMT.”

I settled into a chair. “Pretty close, yeah. I was rolling with the volunteer service in Bronning and working part-time here. It wasn’t too bad. Critical care school wasn’t as long, but it was a lot harder.”

“When did you do that?”

“About six months after I got my medic.”

“Jeez,” said the young woman, clearly impressed. “I was wondering how you got to be the clinical director so young – oh, I’m sorry.” She put her hand over her mouth, and the blush on her pale, freckled face was truly spectacular. “That didn’t come out quite right.”

I laughed. “It’s okay.”

Darren, who was pulling his shirt back on, favored Dana with an endearing lopsided grin. “That’s the least of the things we wonder about her.”

Dana smiled back at him. Good Lord, I thought. Stop undressing each other with your eyes and get a room already.

“I kind of got the job by accident,” I said. “When Amy Perkins retired, I was the only critical care medic left in this dump. A lot of the transfers we do technically fall under the category of critical care, and the owners like to have someone with that certification in charge of training. So they made me clinical director.”

“So regular medics are allowed to do critical transfers?”

“In this state, yes,” I told her. “It depends on where you’re at. We have a low population density, along with a lot of rural hospitals that aren’t very capable. So a lot of stuff gets transferred out to bigger facilities. They fly out most of the really severe cases, but if flight no-gos because of weather or whatever, they send it by ground. Other places like the coasts, you don’t have that kind of situation, so the rules are stricter. In some states you have to have a critical care certification to take a vented patient, or someone on an infusion of blood products.”

The radio squawked, and I held up a finger.

“Franklin County to Bronning Ambulance, please respond to 13242 State Highway 225 for a twenty-year-old male with an altered level of consciousness, your time is 1333.”

Darren swatted me on the shoulder. “Hey, there’s your Bronning people going out,” he said.

“Yep,” I said, getting to my feet. “And that part of 225 is in our intercept zone, so if they need ALS they’ll be calling us.” I beckoned towards Dana. “You and I are up for the next call, so let’s get the monitor wrapped up and back in the truck.”

Dana began coiling the ECG cables, her face flushed with excitement.

“Bronning Ambulance, Franklin.” Jessie Kramer’s voice on the radio. At least she’s getting back in the saddle.

“Go ahead, Bronning.”

“You can show us en route.”

Darren’s eyebrows shot up. “They’re not usually that fast.”

“Jessie lives a block from the station,” I said. “I don’t know who her partner is today, but we have a couple of other people who are almost that close.”

Darren rolled his eyes. “It’s Bronning,” he said. “Everyone is almost that close.”

“Do you think they’ll need us?” Dana sounded breathless with excitement.

“Hard to say,” I said. “If it’s something simple like hypoglycemia, they can probably handle it themselves. If it’s a stroke, an overdose, or they just don’t know, they’ll yell for help.”

“Aren’t they ALS sometimes?”

“Only when I’m around.”

Dana picked up the monitor, and the three of us headed out to the garage. Three orange-on-white ambulances were parked in the bay. As we approached the one against the far wall, a familiar male voice burst forth from the overhead speakers. I winced; the radio feed is ridiculously loud in there.

“Bronning Ambulance to Franklin – on scene.”

Dale cocked an eyebrow. “That’s Terry Wilder, right?”

I nodded, keeping my face impassive. I made sure my frighteningly inexperienced partner had the monitor plugged in, then headed back into the quarters area. I was just coming out of the bathroom when I heard Terry’s voice again.

“Bronning Ambulance, Franklin. We need to get an intercept coming from Thormleton.”

By the time dispatch paged us, Thormelton Ambulance number 3520 was already easing out of the garage and onto the apron. I was behind the wheel, with Dana Fraser in the shotgun seat, opening a new incident in the computer. Ordinarily the EMT on an ALS crew would drive to the call, but we were going to be running lights and sirens, and thus far Dana had spent all of two hours in orientation learning to handle an ambulance. The flashing lights came on; the siren sounded. The big door trundled closed as the ambulance pulled out into the street.

We’d just turned onto the highway when we heard Jessie Kramer announce over the radio that Bronning Ambulance was clear of the scene and transporting to Pinewood. That meant Terry was in the back, which was probably for the best.

As we barreled up the road at just under eighty miles an hour, the howling siren sending other vehicles scattering for the gravel shoulders, I gave my rookie partner a rapid-fire rundown on the ins and outs of running emergent. After about ten minutes, I switched the radio over to the private channel dispatch had assigned to the call.

“Thormleton 3520 to Bronning Ambulance on FC2.”

“Go for Bronning,” said Jessie.

“I’d like a patient update when you get a chance.”

“Thormleton, stand by,” Terry’s voice broke in. It was a little over a minute before he spoke again.

“Thormleton, this is Bronning. The patient is experiencing periods of alertness accompanied by convulsions alternating with a semi-comatose state. At no time is the patient oriented or responding appropriately to questions. Pupils are pinpoint. Patient is tachycardic with a pulse of one thirty-six, and hypotensive with a pressure of seventy-four over forty-six. I have a pulse ox of ninety-five percent on room air, blood sugar is ninety-six. I have an eighteen-gauge IV with saline lock established in the left forearm.”

Uh-oh. “Copy that,” I said. “What’s your twenty?”

Jessie’s voice. “About two miles outside of Radcliff.”

“So are we. Pull into the Amoco station and we’ll meet you there.” I hung up the mic. “Okay,” I said to my partner. “when we pull in, I’m going to grab a pump and the narcs out of the back. You get the ALS bag – it’s the big green one – and follow me. The Bronning truck carries a lot of the same supplies, but we mostly use our own stuff on intercepts. I probably won’t have you do much because there hasn’t been time to train you on anything, but no big deal. Terry Wilder’s there, and he’s got his shit together.”

The ambulance slowed. Hauling the wheel over, I killed the siren as we pulled smoothly into the parking lot of the Amoco gas station on the edge of Radcliffe. I got out, turning my face up to the sunshine. Finally, a nice day.

Rounding the front of the rig and ducking into the box through the side door, I extracted an infusion pump from a rack of five that was clamped to a rail, then got the narcotics out of the safe. As I hurried back out I caught the wail of an approaching siren, which cut off a moment later as the Bronning rig pulled into the lot.

I entered through the side door, Dana right behind me with the ALS bag. The overweight young man on the cot was lying on his left side and convulsing. No, that’s not quite right; Terry was holding him on his side, his left hand on the meaty shoulder to prevent the large body from flopping back like an eel, his right attempting to capture a stream of vomit in an emesis bag with only partial success.

I moved quickly, getting behind the patient’s head and leaning in to help support his writhing bulk. I glanced down at Dana, who was more or less stuck on the first step for the moment. She was staring at the mess, wide-eyed.

“I think he’s done puking,” said Terry.

“Okay, I need your seat.”

I stuffed myself into the space alongside the rear-facing chair, enough room for Terry to squeeze by. He parked himself in the jump seat next to the monitor, and I took his former place on the bench seat.

“Get up here,” I instructed Dana. “Help Terry get this guy propped up on his side.”

Dana moved to where I’d been standing by the rear-facing chair, and the two of them stuffed some pillows behind the fat kid to keep him from flopping onto his back. I sized him up at a glance. Three days stubble, oily brown hair, dirty jeans and a t-shirt. Probably weighed two-eighty or so.

Extracting supplies from the narc box, I glanced at Dana. “What I’m drawing up right now,” I said, “is called Versed. It’s a sedative in the same drug class as Valium, and one of our favorite things to do with it is make seizures go away. Terry, this is Dana.”

“Hi, Dana,” said Terry, flashing that damned grin of his that always seems to make ladies’ limbs loosen a little.

I pushed the Versed, drawing up another med as the convulsions slowed.

“This is Zofran,” I said, “and it’s for the nausea. You’re going to want to start learning this stuff, because all the medics you work with will expect you to get things for them.”

After pushing the drug I inspected the monitor, then pored over the ECG printout Terry had left on the seat for me.

“Okay, Dana,” I said. “You can go on back to our truck and follow us to Pinewood, but we’re going to be running hot so do not try to keep up. Just go routine and we’ll see you there.”

Dana nodded. “Nice to meet you,” she said to Terry as she left.

“We can go, Jessie,” I called out. “Run emergent, please.”

The siren sounded, and the ambulance pulled out. Terry caught my eye.

“This looks just a tad bit familiar,” he observed.

“Yeah,” I said. I rummaged in the green bag that Dana had left on the rear-facing seat.

“You want me to get the patches out in case you have to zap this guy?” Terry asked.

“Nope,” I said. “because this time I’ve got my work bag, and I have some stuff in here that’ll boost his blood pressure without messing with his heart rate. He’s tachy, but not so much that I’m going to fuck with it unless it gets worse.”

I tossed a fluid bag at him. “Do me a favor and spike this, but don’t use one of the usual drip sets; use this.” I gestured towards a line I’d taken from the green bag; one designed to be used with a pump.

By the time I’d drawn up the medication, Terry had a bag spiked and ready to go. I hooked it to the pump, squirted the med into the fluid bag, and set the pump’s infusion rate.

“Give it a few minutes, then get another pressure,” I said.

Terry hung the bag from the collapsible pole on the side of the cot. “What is this stuff?”

“Levophed. It’s kind of like Epi, but more specific as to which receptors it acts on. It constricts the vasculature, but it won’t speed up his heart like Epi will.”

“Neato. Anything else you wanna do with this guy?”

“If this gets his blood pressure out of the ditch, I’m gonna call it good.”

Terry pressed the blood pressure button on the monitor. The cuff on the right arm began to inflate.

“This looks suspiciously like what we saw a couple of nights ago,” he observed. “How much you wanna bet we also get a negative tox screen?”

“Yeah,” I said, “and I found out more just yesterday. Sam Jensen’s samples got sent down to a toxicology center in the twin cities for more detailed analysis. They found some kind of weird stuff in her blood that the tox screen didn’t catch, and they can’t identify.”

“No shit?”

“No shit, but there’s more. I got Jason Bixley’s autopsy information this morning. He had the same crap in him. I’m guessing he was cruising back home, high as fuck, and then one of these seizures hit.”

Terry leaned back, a thoughtful look on his lean face. “Interesting. You might have told me.”

“I meant to text you this morning, but I got stuck with a trainee.” The blood pressure came up on the monitor. 102/76; I’d take it. I forced my muscles to relax.

“By trainee, you mean that frail slip of a girl following us in? She’s cute, in a… freckly sort of way.”

I snorted. “Forget it, cowboy. She’s got big eyes for Darren Tanner. If they’re not screwing by Friday, I’ll eat my duty boots. Hey, you’re right by the radio; wanna call this in? Tell the hospital he’s had five milligrams of Versed, four of Zofran, and I’ve got him on a Levophed drip currently at ten mics per minute, which I am now titrating down to four.”

Terry reached for the mic.

***

The four of us stood in the ambulance garage at Pinewood Memorial Hospital in Johnstown. Dana had helped Jessie clean up the Bronning rig, and the two women appeared to have hit it right off. I was addressing my trainee.

“When the first thing you see on your first call is puke, it’s a sign that you’re destined to be an EMS lifer. Didn’t they tell you that in EMT school?” I said.

“Tis an omen sent down from the gods themselves,” Terry agreed.

Dana snickered, then changed the subject. “Do we know what was wrong with him?” she asked. I met Terry’s eyes. I saw no reason not to relate the weird chain of events to the two younger women, but some odd impulse held me back.

“No clue,” I said. “Narcotic of some kind, but damned if I know what. Anyway… Terry, Jessie, nicely done. I’m going to take my protege here back to the station and try to teach her a few more things.”

“Teach her well,” Terry agreed. “After all, we’ve just established that she’s going to be in this line of work for the next thirty years or so. We need to head north and get this rig back in service, anyway. Pleasure to meet you, Dana.”

As I settled into the passenger’s seat, I drummed my fingers on my thigh, furrowing my brow as I compared what I’d just seen to Sam Jensen’s presentation the previous weekend. What the hell?

On to Chapter Six!

by C. Cat

When Katie and Rayne returned to their room after that day’s breakfast, Rayne squealed with delight at what she saw waiting for them.

“It’s here!” she cried, pointing to a box on their bed that could only be Katie’s very own fairy outfit, complete with wings. “You have to try it on!”

Even though the new term hadn’t yet started, Katie spent as much time as she possibly could at Fairy House with Rayne and the other girls. She absolutely adored her new sisters and couldn’t possibly feel more welcome, but also knew she couldn’t think of herself as a real fairy until she had her wings. Then she could join the others when they entertained the women and little girls who visited Latchmore.

That day had finally arrived. All but tearing off the top of the box, an awed Katie stared at its contents. Then she began to wriggle out of her top.

“Oy! That’s my job!” Rayne protested, hastening to assist.

Fifteen minutes later, she was cooing with delight at the view of her best friend and lover, proudly posing in her new things. It took longer for Katie to get dressed than it might have done; once she was naked, Rayne simply had to get undressed herself, and a few passionate kisses threatened to turn into a torrid morning fuck. Somehow the girls managed to restrain their appetites, promising to “set the sheets on fire” later that night, following Katie’s debut as a Latchmore Fairy.

***

Since chance sightings of fairies were part and parcel of the Latchmore experience, the ability to move about the grounds without being seen was a crucial skill for the girls. During the previous week, Rayne had taught Katie all the paths, snickets and shortcuts, along with secret passages and hideaways that would let her keep an eye on the guests and decide exactly when and where to appear. There were also a few especially private hiding places where willing ladies and girls could be spirited away for special games, the kind best played without clothing.

Katie was a quick learner and, now that she had her outfit, could join Rayne for her first outing. The two left Fairy House and cut across the maze of paths in the butterfly meadow to the main trail that led through the enchanted woods.

For a couple hours the two played their own version of hide-and-seek where they would let themselves be seen by one of the pretty young guests before disappearing again. The girl and her mother would often try to follow, but when they made it to the spot where the fairies had been, all they would find was a little present wrapped in a leaf with a pink bow.

The two were thinking about heading back for lunch, when Rayne spotted a mother and her little girl, walking hand in hand down a nearby path. Turning to Katie, she nodded in their direction, grinning eagerly. Should we?

Katie instantly saw what had attracted Rayne’s attention. The little girl was cute as could be in a very short pink dress with a tiny skirt that showed off her slender legs and barely covered her panties. All the satin and frills were adorable, all done in pink – her sandals, the bow that held her long blonde hair back in a ponytail, even her toenails! It wasn’t unusual for girls to dress up for a day at the gardens, but this young nymph was positively sexy. Did her mum dress her like that on purpose? Katie wondered.

Actually, the girl’s mother looked scrumptious as well in a miniskirt and low-cut blouse that showed off her long athletic legs and a delectable amount of cleavage. The look would have been ideal for a summer date, but it was a long way from the loose tops and yoga pants many of the mothers wore to the garden.

As they got closer, Katie also noticed how the woman and the girl looked at each other. Something in those adoring glances spoke of more than just the love of mother and child. At one point, the little girl brought Mummy’s hand to her lips, gazing into the woman’s eyes as she tenderly kissed it.

Katie turned to Rayne. “Do you think…?” she began.

Before she could get the words out, the woman guided her daughter into a little alcove, then went down on one knee before the child. Katie’s view was partially blocked, but she could see enough to know that this wasn’t the way most mothers kissed their little girls.

Flashing Katie a big smile, Rayne pointed down the pathway. She clearly had some kind of plan.

A moment later the two of them were in position on the trail, holding hands and gazing into each other’s eyes. They pretended not to notice when mother and daughter came around the bend. Waiting for a moment to be sure they’d been seen, Katie and Rayne came together for a long, deep kiss.

When the girls ‘noticed’ they were being watched, they broke apart, cried, “Oh!” in mock surprise, then quickly scampered around the bend and away.

“Don’t go!” the child pleaded. “We’re friends!”

“They’re gone, angel,” the mother said, a tinge of disappointment in her voice. “Maybe we’ll run into them again.”

“Look, Mummy! Fairy dust!” The little girl exclaimed when she reached the spot where the girls had kissed.

Her mother noticed the little pile of fine glitter, then there were shiny flakes of the stuff scattered down the trail as well. “Here’s more of it, Brooke,” she said, pointing down the trail. “Do you think the fairies might want us to follow them?”

“Yes!” the girl squealed, clapping her hands. “C’mon, Mummy – let’s go!”

The mother was as eager as Brooke to see these fairies, so they followed the trail of fairy dust and the occasional sound of laughing and singing. They were so intent on the search, they didn’t notice themselves straying off the official path, past a conveniently open gate, and down into a little glen with a stream running through the middle. Next to a little waterfall was a tiny thatched-roof building – could that be where the fairies had got to?

The glittery trail led to a small grassy area with a bench and little stools shaped like mushrooms. “Let’s sit down here and see if the fairies come out,” the girl’s mother whispered.

Little Brooke could barely sit still, jumping every time she heard a rustling in the woods. Finally, though, she spotted movement on the path. “Over there!” she yelped.

Rayne and Katie froze and looked like they were about to flee into the forest.

“Please don’t go, fairies!” Brooke called to them, both hands clasped together. “We just want to talk to you!”

Cautiously the two advanced up the path, pretending they were still deciding whether it was safe.

“I’m Brooke,” the little one said, “an’ this is my mum. Come play with us, pretty please?”

The fairies drew a bit closer, and one spoke. “I’m Rayne… and this is Katie. You and…” She looked at the woman.

“Rachel,” the girl’s mother said.

“…you and Rachel were following us. You weren’t sent by the witch, were you?”

“No!” Brooke exclaimed, “We love fairies, an’ we hate bad old witches! We’d never hurt you.”

Katie turned to Rayne, “No one would dare lie to a fairy… and after all, the witch doesn’t like pretty little girls any more than she does us.” Briefly studying the two visitors, she finally said. “I think… yes, I think we can trust them.”

“Oh, you can!” Brooke said, more excited than ever. “Cross my heart an’ hope to die!”

The two fairies broke into big smiles, their fears clearly forgotten. Katie knelt down in front of the child and took her hand. “Welcome to the enchanted forest, Brooke. Are you and your mum having fun?”

“Lots of fun!” the little girl exclaimed, “It’s soooo pretty here! There are flowers, an’ butterflies… I even saw a turtle!”

“My, that is a lot. What was your favourite thing you saw? Was it old Mr. Turtle?”

The girl squirmed where she sat, suddenly shy, but she remembered how important it was to always be truthful to a fairy. “No… I, um… I liked seeing you kiss most of all.”

“Oh, I liked it too. Rayne is a very good kisser. Do you think about kissing girls a lot?”

Brooke glanced up at her mother, not sure if she should answer. She’d been told to never tell anyone about the special, secret kissing she and Mummy did… but she also didn’t want to lie to this nice fairy.

As for Rachel, she was feeling a little nervous. She hadn’t done anything more than share passionate kisses with her daughter, but it was becoming clear that Brooke wanted more than that. Somehow, she’d managed to resist her lustful urges and be a proper mother, but knew deep inside she wouldn’t be able to keep that up much longer. She was masturbating obsessively to fantasies of undressing her little girl, fondling her babyish body, of probing the child’s virgin holes with fingers and tongue… then teaching Brooke to love her the same way.

A lesbian friend who knew of Rachel’s secret desires had steered her toward Latchmore House. “Trust me… take Brooke there,” she’d said. “You just might find what you’re looking for. Maybe Brooke will, too.” Her friend would give no further explanation, just wrote the address down on a piece of scratch paper and departed with a blown kiss.

Now Rachel and her six-year-old were seated side by side in a quiet nook of the Latchmore garden with two beautiful young girls in deliciously skimpy fairy costumes… girls who seemed to be especially interested in kissing.

Rachel suspected this might be a golden opportunity to satisfy her craving, but knew there would be no going back if she gave in. In the end, though, the fierce need she had for Brooke overcame her fear. She gave her daughter a slight nod. “You can answer her question, love.”

“Okay,” Brooke replied, then turned back to Katie, giving the scantily-clad angel a bashful smile. “I do like to think about kissing girls… but I like getting kisses even more!” She giggled, leaning against her mother.

“Do you like little kisses like this?” Katie turned to Rayne, who gave her a gentle peck on the lips, “Or perhaps big, juicy ones like this…?”

The two fairies came together, and Brooke and her mother watched the young lovers melt into a heated, ardent kiss that involved considerable tongue play.

“I like big kisses!” Brooke said, all but bouncing up and down with excitement.

“What about you, Brooke’s mummy?” Rayne said as she sat down on Rachel’s lap, making sure to adjust her skirt so her bare bottom was against the woman’s thighs. “Do you like kissing girls, too?”

“I… I do, yes,” Rachel said, flustered and nervously glancing about, afraid someone might see her in such a compromising situation. It hadn’t escaped her attention that the girl in her lap wasn’t wearing knickers.

“It’s okay. No one will bother us here,” Rayne purred, moving to claim Rachel’s lips with hers.

As an awed Brooke watched her mother succumb to the fairy’s kiss, Katie reached up to trail two fingers down the girl’s cheek. Brooke turned to her, eyes wide with wonder when Katie leaned in to steal a kiss of her own. The child gave a blissful sigh, their mouths drifted together again, and the kiss deepened.

Mother and daughter continued to hold hands as they enjoyed themselves with the beautiful young fairies.

“That makes me all tingly inside!” Brooke exclaimed when the two separated.

“Hmmm… it reminds me of the story of Ellette’s kiss!” Katie said, with a wink for Rayne, “Would you like to hear it?”

“Oh, yes!” Brooke said.

“I don’t know,” Rayne added looking up at Rachel, “I’m sure that Brooke is a big girl… but is it okay if the story is a little naughty?”

“Please, Mommy?” Brooke begged, looking irresistible with her big dark eyes.

Rachel smiled. “I think we’d both love to hear it,” she said, giving her daughter’s hand a squeeze.

***

Once a Latchmore Fairy reaches a certain age, she is expected to be well versed in the art of storytelling. The House had an impressive collection of stories to draw from, compiled from around the world, and the fairies would select and learn their favourites to share with the women and girls who came to visit.

Most of these were innocent tales meant to amuse and awe children, but there was another, secret batch of stories, erotic in nature, that were only to be shared with special guests. Katie had fallen in love with the Legend of Ellette’s kiss. She quickly memorised it with the help of Rayne, who also helped her practise telling the tale.

Now, on her very first day as a Latchmore Fairy, Katie was about to relate this beautiful story to a little girl and her mummy, knowing they might already be lovers… and her own lover was there to see it happen.

***

“Okay, then,” Katie began. “I know you’ve heard of the tooth fairy, but did you know there are other kinds of fairies, too?”

Brooke shook her head, hanging on every word.

“This is a story about one special fairy named Ellette. Now, you know that all fairies love pretty things, especially pretty little girls like you.” She tapped Brooke on the nose, sparking another giggle. “But some little girls are extra special – we say they must be part fairy themselves, because they have magic inside them.”

“Do I have fairy magic?” Brooke asked.

“Maybe… Do you love pretty things, especially when they are sparkly and pink?”

“Yes!”

Katie nodded approvingly. “Good. Also, all fairies – even part-fairies – are very good to their mums. Do you always try to be helpful, kind and loving with your mother?”

“I… I try…” Brooke said, a little unsure if that was enough, but her excitement was undiminished.

“She’s an absolute angel,” Rachel declared, giving her child an adoring look. “The light of my life.”

“Good for you, Brooke!” Katie went on. “So you already have some fairy in you, I’d say. But there’s more than that. When a fairy sees a very pretty girl, she gets a tingle inside, like little fairy wings fluttering in her tummy. Do you ever feel that way?”

“Oh, I do!” Brooke exclaimed. “All the time!”

As Katie continued her story, Rayne snuggled closer to Rachel. Taking one of the woman’s hands, she deftly slipped it beneath the hem of her skirt. Rachel couldn’t resist tracing tiny circles on the fairy’s inner thigh, slowly moving higher as Rayne’s blissful sigh encouraged her.

“You might have the magic,” Katie continued, “but that’s where Ellette comes in. Her job is to help girls like you find the magic inside, so they can always be happy like the fairies.”

“How…?” Brooke asked, more interested than ever.

As thrilled as her little girl was becoming, Rachel was even more excited. By this point, her fingers were brushing against the warm wetness of Rayne’s bare slit, and the girl was nuzzling her neck. She was still listening avidly to Katie’s story, though.

“Well, finding that hidden magic is what this story is about. You know how the tooth fairy comes at night?”

“Uh-huh.”

“When Ellette finds a special girl, she waits for her to go to bed and fall asleep, then she uses magic to slip through the girl’s window, just like the tooth fairy. But she doesn’t take teeth, or anything yucky like that. Instead she flies over the girl and gives her a kiss, right on the mouth! And it’s a big, juicy kiss – the kind you like best.”

Brooke nodded, totally entranced.

“You see, the fairy magic in that kiss lets Ellette become part of the little girl’s dreams. Now, in the dream, the girl may not know Ellette even is a fairy – she might just see her as a very lovely girl. Sometimes she’s dressed like you, a pretty princess with lots of lace and bows. Sometimes she’s wearing a nice dress. But most of the time…” Katie leaned in close, “Ellette isn’t wearing any clothes at all!”

“Ooooh!” Brooke squealed. “She’s bare naked?” By then, the child was positively dreamy-eyed, but her attention didn’t waver for a second.

If Katie had any doubts that Brooke was a budding lesbian, they vanished in that instant. “In the girl’s dream, Ellette gives her another kiss, and their beautiful little bodies are snuggled together, all cosy and nice. Being so close to Ellette makes the girl feel safe, warm, and all tingly inside. The more they kiss, the stronger that feeling grows. Sometimes Ellette gets the feeling too, but that only happens if the girl has the fairy magic in her.”

By the way Brooke was beginning to squirm and scissor her thighs, Katie knew the child was getting increasingly aroused. Bet she wants to touch herself, only she’s too shy. Hmmm… we really ought to do something about that. 

As for Rachel, she did her best to stay focused on the story, though Rayne proved to be a bit of a distraction. She was engaged in a deep tongue kiss with the girl, fingering her clit.

Brooke was too enthralled to notice. “Then what happens?”

“Now all this time, Ellette is watching the little girl outside the dream. And when that tingle starts, she knows the girl is ready to feel the special magic. Ellette draws the covers back, then she lets her hands slide down the sleeping girl’s body until she reaches the hem of her nightgown. What do you think happens next…?”

“Don’t know! What?”

“Ellette takes hold of the nightie, then sloooowwly pulls it up, higher and higher… until she can see the little girl’s panties.”

“Ohhhhh,” Brooke moaned. She squirmed even more, tightly clutching the hem of her dress.

“But she wants to see more, so Ellette slides those pretty panties down and off the girl’s legs, then helps her out of the nightgown. Which means… what does that mean?” She gives Brooke a knowing look, waiting for her answer.

“They’re BOTH bare naked!” By then, a gleeful Brooke was cupping her vulva, the child’s straying hand pressed snugly between her thighs.

“That’s right. Of course, there’s nothing more beautiful than a naked little girl.” Katie noticed that Rachel was still masturbating Rayne, but the two of them were listening to the story instead of kissing.

“No, no!” Brooke protested, pointing at her mother. “Naked ladies are beau’ful too! Like Mummy!”

That’s interesting, Katie thought, noting the sudden blush that coloured Rachel’s cheeks. “Well, you’re right, they are beautiful… it’s just that Ellette especially likes young girls.”

“Like me…?”

“Exactly like you, sweetie.”

Tell me more!” Brooke said. “What happens when Elliette an’ the girl are bare naked?”

“First, Ellette very gently spreads the girl’s legs open, then lies down between them. What she wants is to take a close look at her kitty. If she can see honey there, making it glisten and sparkle in the moonlight… well, then she knows for sure that the girl is ready for the gift.”

“What IS it!?” Brooke cried, her curiosity at fever pitch.

Gazing into the child’s eyes, Katie lowered her voice to a gentle murmur. “Ellette gives the girl a kiss… right on her kitty.”

Brooke gasped. “Sh-she does?”

With a quick nod, Katie continued. “But this isn’t just a normal kiss… it’s a magic fairy kiss, and it makes the tingling grow even more. The girl feels it move through her body as it gets stronger. Fairies love the taste of a little girl’s honey more than anything, and Ellette uses her tongue to lick up all she can. The girl loves it, too! Being licked down there feels amazing, and soon the tingling inside gets so powerful that she can’t keep still.

“That’s the moment when she gets the gift. It’s like all the love in her heart coming together, then going off in a huge cascade of fireworks.”

“What happens then?”

“The gift lasts a long time… but as it fades away, the girl drifts off into a deep, happy sleep. She might not remember the dream when she wakes up, but after that night she’ll be able to give herself those same special feelings, and bring back the gift whenever she wants. All she has to do is think about pretty girls or lovely ladies, and touch herself where Ellette gave her the first kiss. Even better, she can find another girl – or a lady – to kiss her in that same place.”

The child pursed her lips thoughtfully, then said, “Does Ellette ever come back?”

“Well, Ellette can’t be there all the time – she has to go all around the world to find all the girls who have fairy magic in them. But she always watches over her special girls as they grow up and she visits their dreams as often as she can, even if they don’t always remember.”

Katie paused before adding, “Of course, there’s a legend about another gift she gives… would you like to hear about that?”

“Oh, yes! Tell me, please!”

“It’s said that when Ellette finds two of her special girls who are meant to be each other’s true love, she’ll arrange for them to meet, then give each one a bit of her own magic. Then, when those girls make love for the first time, that magic mixes together and it feels just like it did that very first time. Maybe even better.”

“That’s a beautiful story,” Rachel said. “One thing I’m curious about, though: is Ellette the only fairy who gives special kisses?” She was gazing evenly at Katie, the meaning of her words plain as day.

“We are still very young fairies,” Rayne said, reaching up to caress the woman’s face, “so our magic’s not quite as strong as hers… but we love to give kisses to little girls.”

Katie spoke up. “Rachel…do you think your daughter might like a special kiss?”

At that, Brooke jumped from Katie’s arms and to her feet, standing before her mother with clasped hands. “Yes! Oh, Mummy, can I have one, can I please?”

For over two years, Rachel had struggled to be a proper mother and resist the illicit longing she felt for her little girl… but in the presence of the fairies, her resolve had all but evaporated. “If you want to, darling… then yes, you can.”

Smiling invitingly at the child, Katie patted the space next to her on the bench. Then, as Brooke seated herself, she knelt in front of the little girl, tenderly stroking her legs.

Those fairy fingers soon found their way beneath Brooke’s frilly pink skirt. “Is this okay?” Katie asked.

Brooke was biting her lower lip, her face a picture of nervous anticipation. She nodded.

Katie slowly pushed the girl’s skirt up until a pair of pink panties came into view. “Oh, those are very pretty,” she cooed. “Did Mommy pick them out for you?”

“Yes,” Brooke breathed, clearly delighted to be showing off her knickers to an older girl.

While Rachel was fixated on the sexy scene unfolding between her daughter and Katie, Rayne slipped down to kneel before her. Just as Katie had, she pushed the woman’s skirt up to reveal gauzy black knickers, sheer enough that Rachel’s neatly-trimmed sex could be seen. “Nice…” Rayne said.

Katie trailed her finger through Brooke’s pudenda, pleased to find a damp patch on the front of the child’s panties. She took hold of the elastic waistband. “Lift your bottom, love.”

The little girl quivered with excitement as she raised her bum, a tiny whimper escaping as Katie tugged her underpants down, then off, pausing first to remove Brooke’s sandals. Katie pressed the soft cotton knickers to her face, took a long, deep breath, then grinned at her young lover. “You smell soooo good,” she said.

“Aw… thank you,” Brooke replied, blushing ever so slightly..

Placing the pink panties to one side, Katie centred her attention on Brooke’s baby-smooth sex. “So pretty!” she exclaimed. It was, too – a delicate flower, with a hint of moisture adorning the tender petals.

“Mummy’s pussy is pretty, too,” Rayne said as she removed Rachel’s sexy knickers to expose the woman’s cunt.

“Oh, God…” Rachel mumbled, bracing herself for whatever this lovely young girl had in mind. “Oh, my God!”

Resting her hands on Brooke’s knees, Katie gave the child a sweet smile. “Are you ready for the special kiss?”

As if too overwhelmed to speak, the child nodded once.

Katie bent to brush her lips along Brooke’s inner thighs, slowly making her way toward the little girl’s centre. Soon her mouth was nearly touching the warm pink cleft. She extended her tongue, carefully grazing it with a feather-like flick.

It was enough for Brooke to feel, though. “Oooohhh!” she squeaked. “Is this the – the magic?”

Katie let her mouth answer, pressing an open-mouthed kiss into the child, her tongue probing into the snug slit. It was warm and wet inside, but she could only penetrate so far. Wow, she’s super tight in there. Guess I shouldn’t be surprised. 

That still left the girl’s vulva to enjoy, and the eleven-year-old fairy set to work, licking Brooke’s slit up and down.

“Oh,” Brooke moaned. “Oh.”

Rachel and Rayne were both avidly watching the sex show taking place right next to them. The little girl’s mother was enraptured by the sight of Brooke’s first lesbian experience.

Finally, she could no longer be a passive witness. Turning to the fairy kneeling at her feet, she gave Rayne a desperate look, her cunt on full display. “Please,” was all she said.

Much as Rayne loved to tease, she thought it best to give the poor woman what she needed so badly. Shoving Rachel’s legs even further apart, she buried her mouth in the juicy flesh, going down with everything she had – first dipping her tongue deep inside, rolling it around a few times, then licking it up and down. Rayne took care to keep her from coming right away, too – she preferred to take her time with a lover.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck!” Rachel yelped, holding Rayne’s head tightly against her vulva. She groped her breasts with the other hand.

Katie paused her licking – though she did continue to stimulate Brooke’s clitoris with her fingers – to observe Rachel as she skated closer to orgasm. “Hmmm… I think we should ask your mommy to get her tits out. Don’t you, Brooke?”

“Please, Mummy?” Brooke said, turning to her mother. “I want to see them!”

While Rayne continued to tongue-fuck her vagina, Rachel managed to loosen the string on her top, letting it slip from her shoulders to bare her breasts. While they weren’t large, she had nice, firm C-cups that barely sagged without a bra.

“Can I take off my dress?” Brooke asked no one in particular. “I – ooohhh – I want to be bare naked!”

“I’m fine with that,” said Katie, who was still fingering the child. “What does your mum say?”

“Mmmm, go ahead if you want to!” Rachel panted. “Oh, girl, your m-mouth feels amazing…” Her fingers tangled themselves in Rayne’s hair.

Seizing the skirt of her pretty frock, Brooke frantically wriggled it up over her head, then carelessly cast it to one side. “Yay!” she enthused, spreading her little arms wide. “D’you like me with no clothes on?”

“I absolutely do,” Katie murmured, drinking in the view as she bent down to resume her licking. The child’s bare body was exquisite from head to toe, and her pussy tasted wonderful. Sucking at the bare slit, Katie let the tart nectar coat her tongue.

Rachel’s heart swelled with love at the sight of her naked daughter, enjoying love with another girl. She’d always secretly hoped that Brooke would be gay when she grew up, and it seemed her prayers had been answered.

But… does that mean I can make love to her? she asked herself.

Observing the child in the midst of her sexual awakening, Rachel made a decision.

“Brooke?” she hesitantly asked.

The child looked up, and Rachel was smitten as never before by those sweet brown eyes. So filled with love for her mummy… how could this be wrong?

“Baby girl,” she said, a tremor in her voice. Rayne was still going down on her, after all. “W-would you like to – to suck mummy’s nipple? Because that would – ohhhh – it would make me very happy.”

Brooke was nodding her head before Rachel had got all the words out. “Yes, Mummy, yes!”

Leaning into her mother, Brooke gave the right breast a few clumsy kisses, then latched on to a lust-swollen nipple.

When Rayne saw that happen, she picked up the tempo of her licking, bathing the woman’s opening nine or ten times before she zeroed in on Rachel’s clitoris. She expected her older lover to come very soon, and intended to make it unforgettable.

I’ll remember this moment forever, Rachel mused. She couldn’t believe that her fantasy of making love with a young girl was finally coming true. Better still, she was also sharing her daughter’s first time… and Brooke was giving her pleasure, too.

Rachel’s world disappeared into a swirl of light and heat that swallowed her whole.

She cried out loud, then went into a moan that quickly mounted into a scream. Clutching her little girl tightly, she wrapped both legs around Rayne. Spasms of ecstasy rocked Rachel’s frame until she was totally spent, slumping against the back of the bench.

When her eyes fluttered open, Rayne was seated to her left, the girl’s lips brushing her ear. “Help Katie make love to Brooke,” she murmured. “Your little girl needs special kisses from Mommy, too.”

Rachel’s concept of how a proper mother ought to behave had undergone a major change… and the only surprise she felt now was how long it had taken her to see the light. Why did I deny my child the love she wants from me? she wondered. Never again. Thanks to these two wonderful fairies, it’s not too late to set things right.

Getting on her knees beside Katie, she joined the girl between Brooke’s thighs. Raising her head, Katie was quick to recognise Rachel’s intentions. With a gleeful smile, she backed away, giving the woman room.

The moment of truth had arrived. Rachel was close enough to her little girl’s cunt to feel its warmth on her face, breathing in the delicate scent she’d so often savoured on her daughter’s soiled knickers.

Brooke could only stare, her mouth hanging open in an expression of astonishment. Is Mummy really, really going to…?

Extending her tongue, Rachel moved in to take the first lick.

“Oh… oh, Mummy,” Brooke breathed as her mother’s special kiss stirred up wonderful feelings inside. Even nicer than the fairy feelings, she decided.

Katie had brought the girl to the edge of climax, but elected to save the prize for Rachel. However, she did want to participate, so Katie moved to Brooke’s left side and began to lavish attention on her rosy nipples. A surprised squeak escaped the child’s lips, then she hugged Katie’s face to her chest.

Brooke’s nipples were too small to be sucked very well – but Katie expected that, having become very familiar with the nude bodies of little girls in the last couple of weeks. So instead, she pleasured the pert buds with her tongue, occasionally teasing them with playful bites. Whatever she did, Brooke seemed to love it. Of course, she’s also getting licked by Mummy…

Rachel was ecstatic. Her deepest held fantasy had come true, and it was incredible. Her daughter’s pussy was the sweetest she’d ever tasted, and Brooke’s mewls of delight made music in the quiet glen. She let the honey coat her lips and chin, bathing in the essence of her little girl.

Brooke had only recently become familiar with the concept of lesbianism. She’d seen two women snogging at a bus stop one day, when on an outing with Mummy. Later that evening, she asked about it. Her mum explained that some ladies liked other ladies instead of men, then went on to admit that she was that way herself.

The idea appealed enormously to the curious six-year-old… and when Mummy said she was also a lesbian, Brooke’s mind was made up: she intended to be one as well. She certainly liked girls a whole lot more than boys!

Of course, being so young, she assumed it would be years before getting to be a real lesbian. Sex was for older girls, everyone knew that! But it didn’t stop Brooke from dreaming about what it would be like to make love to a pretty woman, sharing kisses and touches.

Now it was happening to her for real! Mummy’s mouth was on her kitty, doing all kinds of lovely things. And the fairy Katie was licking her nipples, sort of like what she’d done a couple of minutes before to her mum.

Sensing a presence to her right, Brooke opened her eyes to see the other fairy, the one who had just been licking Mummy – she couldn’t remember her name, but the girl had a nice face.

“Hi, little one,” the fairy said. “Can I kiss you?”

Brooke nodded, certain that this wouldn’t be a casual peck, but one of the big kisses she loved to get from Mummy when they were tucked up together at night.

Sure enough, the fairy drew close to join Brooke in a kiss that quickly grew heated, their tongues quickly falling into a passion-filled dance.

She was just licking Mummy! Brooke realised, the tart flavour of pussy filling her mouth. Wanting more, she sucked at the older girl’s tongue.

All of a sudden, a shivery good feeling surged through the child’s body, those lovely sensations from her mummy’s mouth getting even stronger. Something was about to happen, only she wasn’t sure what it was. It got bigger and bigger and then it was everywhere, this huge happening all over, like nothing she’d ever, ever experienced. Maybe a bit like that wild swoopy feeling you got on a roller coaster… only now the roller coaster was her, racing this way and that..

Brooke tried to cry out, but her words merged into a one long moan. Barely clinging to consciousness as the rapture enveloped her, she thought of Ellette… and then she knew the magic was inside her.

When she opened her eyes, Brooke was nestled in Mummy’s lap, her head resting on those beautiful soft titties she loved so much. The two fairies were on either side, giving her gentle caresses.

“Um… does this mean I’m part fairy?” she whispered with a hopeful smile.

“Yes, little sister,” Katie said, teasing her nipple with a fingertip. “You’re one of us.”

“You know, Brooke,” said Rachel, “I think we need to show these two fairies our thanks. D’you think they might like to get special kisses?”

That got the child’s interest in a hurry. Sitting up straight, Brooke looked from one girl to the other. “Would you?”

The fairies shared an amused glance, then the one whose name Brooke couldn’t recall said, “Oh, my, yes. We’d love that.”

“Yay!” Brooke cheered, scrambling to her feet and doing a happy dance. “I’m part fairy, so I get to give special kisses!”

Giggling, Rayne and Katie rose to remove their dresses – which left them both completely nude.

“You aren’t wearing knickers!” Brooke exclaimed, looking from girl to the other..

“Of course not, silly!” Katie responded with a giggle. “Fairies are nature spirits. We like to feel the air on our bodies.”

Rachel had to smile. After hearing that, Brooke may never wear panties again, she thought. That said, I like the thought of always having easy access to my little girl. 

And speaking of easy access… Rachel pushed her dress down, wriggled out of the snug garment and tossed it onto a nearby statue of a prancing elf. Now they were all naked.

The fairy girls seated themselves side by side on the bench, then mother and daughter knelt before them – Brooke taking her place before Katie, Rachel before Rayne.

The six-year-old watched carefully as her mummy spread Rayne’s legs apart, moved in to kiss her belly, then slowly traced a line of kisses downward.

Peering up at Katie, Brooke felt a twinge of nervousness, afraid she wouldn’t get the kiss right, but Katie gave her a nod of encouragement. “Don’t worry. You know how to do this,” she said. “You have the magic now!”

Her confidence renewed, Brooke started by copying what her mum had done. She buried her face in Katie’s tummy, nuzzling the soft skin, loving its delicate scent.

Following her mother’s lead, she kissed lower and lower. When she saw Mummy’s tongue slip between Rayne’s lower lips, the child knew it was time for her to make the magic happen.

Here we go, Brooke thought, dipping her tongue into Katie’s vaginal opening.

Brooke wasn’t sure what to expect from the taste, but it wasn’t bad at all. Sweet, though not like candy, with a certain tartness. Maybe like some kind of fruit? she thought. Whatever; she liked it. Even better, she soon realised that with little flicks of her tongue, she could make the fairy squirm and moan.

But the very best part of all was having Mummy next to her, wearing no clothes at all and licking a fairy of her own. She continued to copy her mother’s moves,

Would Mummy let me do this to her? Brooke wondered. It’s only fair, ‘cause she got to lick me. Much as she loved giving special kisses to a fairy, the idea of doing the same for her beloved mother made the child quiver inside.

Katie watched in awe as this beautiful girl of six went down on her. So adorable, like a kitten drinking from a bowl of milk for the first time. Taking that first cautious taste, discovering how much she liked it and going back for more. The bright pink bow in Brooke’s hair bobbed up and down as the child got more and more into eating pussy.

Rayne was the first one who started to gasp, but Katie was soon doing the same. The two lovers held hands, gazing deep into each other’s eyes as they shared this wondrous experience.

Katie’s head was spinning as the young girl brought her closer and closer to an orgasm, but in the midst of  the pleasure a thought came to her. Being a fairy is about more than just the freedom to love and be loved however you want… it’s about helping other girls find that freedom, too. Maybe that’s the real magic, she thought, the anticipation of release building inside her.

Rachel had two fingers working deep inside Rayne as she feasted on the young girl’s cunt, savouring the thick, rich nectar. Still observing her mum, Brooke was soon doing the same to Katie. The girls’ bodies were shifting and squirming with each new touch. Then, just before the instant of release, Katie and Rayne turned to each other, their lips crushing together in a passionate kiss.

A few seconds later, the glen rang with their cries as both girls came, hugging tightly as mum and daughter took them over the top and beyond.

When they finally recovered, the four lovers sat together on the bench, blissfully content. There was no need for talk as they enjoyed the coolness of the forest air on their bodies and the warmth of each other’s touch.

Brooke crawled into her mother’s lap, then she and Rachel came together in a gentle kiss that soon grew deep and ardent, then they rested in each other’s arms.

“I love you, Mummy,” Brooke whispered.

“Oh, baby girl,” Rachel sighed, caressing her child all over. “I love you, too. You’re my sexy little princess.”

Brooke giggled. “Not a princess… a fairy!” Then her mirth turned serious. “Mummy, will you ever give me special kisses again? And… can I give them to you?”

“Of course, sweetie.” Rachel slipped a hand between her daughter’s legs, resting it on Brooke’s vulva. “We’re lovers now, the two of us. We’ll do everything together.” They kissed again.

Rayne and Katie were blissfully nestled together, pleased with their day’s work… especially Katie, whose debut as a fairy couldn’t have been nicer.

After a while, mother and daughter got dressed, and the fairies slipped back into their outfits before leading Brooke and Rachel down the path that led to the public area of the garden.

Rounding one bend, Rayne paused to pluck some leaves from a plant that grew alongside the path. “We call this kitty mint,” she said, handing some to Rachel and Brooke. “It tastes really good, and it’s just the thing if you don’t want people to ask what you’ve been up to,” she added with a giggle.

Rachel thanked Rayne, but this little gesture got her thinking. The confidence these young girls had in their sexuality was a surprise and a delight. Their impressive experience at making love would explain much of that, but there was something more. For one thing, Katie and Rayne both seemed to be utterly indifferent to the possibility of getting caught having sex with the women and little girls who visited Latchmore. This must be by design, she thought. There’s much more to this place than meets the eye.

“So,” she asked, “are all the fairies, er… like the two of you?”

Rayne smiled, pleased to see Rachel put the pieces together. “We fairies are all sisters, only not from the same family. There’s one very important thing that unites us… and I think you now know what that is.”

Little Brooke was especially intrigued. “Are these special fairies who visit girls like me?” she asked with eager anticipation as the four made their way down the trail.

“There are lots and lots of fairies, and they’re all special,” Katie replied, “I don’t know for sure who might visit you next, but I’m sure Liliana will come for you in a few years. When she gives her special kiss, it makes a girl’s titties grow. I bet yours will be just as lovely as your mum’s.”

“Who’s Liliana?” Brooke asked. “Will you tell me her story?”

“Oh, it’s getting late, little one… we’ll have to save that for your next visit.”

Rayne added, “We’ll be sure to send you both invitations to our mother-daughter days. You’ll enjoy those. We might get to spend more time with you!”

“Yay!” Brooke cheered.

As the garden came into sight, Rachel paused. “Katie, Rayne… I want to thank you both. My little girl and I are closer than ever now, and you wonderful fairies made it happen.” Kneeling next to Brooke, she claimed her daughter’s mouth in a lover’s kiss, and the child responded in kind.

When they parted, Brooke piped up. “Thanks, fairies! Me an’ Mum are in love now! Isn’t it great?”

They exchanged warm hugs… then, with whispered goodbyes, Rachel and Brooke wandered back into the garden.

Rayne wrapped an arm around Katie’s waist, and the contented lovers watched their new friends go.

***

That night, back at Fairy House, they lay side by side in their bed. Rayne had already drifted off to sleep, but Katie kept thinking about her first day in the gardens as a fairy.

Back in the everyday world, she’d never felt so free. There were always rules about what she should think, how she should feel, the proper way for her to behave. Here though, she was her own girl, loved just how she was by a wonderful new family. It was as if she’d been in a cage for most of her childhood, but had finally been released to fly.

That gave her a warm feeling inside, and it wasn’t even the best part. What made her feel especially good was having helped give a taste of that freedom to Rachel and little Brooke. Maybe they didn’t have real fairy magic, but this was near enough to satisfy Katie. Maybe fairy stories are like that, she decided. A little more true than you think.

As she drifted closer to slumber, she thought once more about the story of Ellette’s kiss. Just like in the story, Katie had ended up beside her true love.

“If you’re really out there, Ellette,” she whispered, “thank you.”

On to Chapter Ten!

By BlueJean

My uncle’s ship sailed into port the next morning, so Aunt Rita and I headed down to the harbour to help unload his cargo of fish. It had been a good haul – a rarity in these days of pollution, overfished waters, and the remnants of EU regulations.

I dragged a bucket of fish across the jetty, screwing my nose up in disgust. A single fish was smelly enough – hundreds of them were quite horrific.

Odette – one of Uncle Derek’s crew – shot me a grin as she hoofed a large crate around on her shoulder. “You do not like fish?” the heavyset French woman asked.

“I prefer them when they’re cooked and on a plate,” I told her.

“Oh, but when you cook a fish that you yourself have caught, it will taste many times better, you know?”

I wasn’t convinced. “If you say so.”

“I do say so.”

Jack – another crew member and a cocky one at that – strutted around bare chested with a permanent gum-chewing grin on his face. He winked at me as he passed, then stopped in his tracks and settled his gaze on Aunt Rita’s arse as she bent to pick up another crate. Odette slapped him round the back of the head.

“Ow! Fuck! Why’d you do that?” the boy squealed.

“You know why I did this, you little shit,” Odette growled at him. “If Derek catch you looking at his wife this way, he will give you more than a smack, I think.”

Aunt Rita regarded Jack with humourous eyes. “Give it up, boy. I’d eat you for breakfast.”

“Who mentioned breakfast?” Uncle Derek boomed as he jumped down from his boat. “I could eat a scabby horse!”

My aunt and uncle headed over to The Mal De Mer with Jack and Odette. The pub doubled as a café during the day, presumably to make up lost income from a dwindling clientele and increasing bureaucracy.

I had already eaten a big bowl of cereal earlier that morning and didn’t care much for sitting in stuffy pubs, so I stayed behind with Sully, Uncle Derek’s first mate. The old man sat on deck smoking a roll-up, fiddling with a piece of rope.

“What’re you doing?” I asked him.

“Knots,” he grunted, barely acknowledging me.

“Knots?”

“Aye. Sailor’s knots. This one’s a clove hitch – nice quick knot when you’re in a fix.”

I perched on the gunwale next to him. “Do you like being a fisherman?”

Sully took a long draw of tobacco and seemed to consider my question carefully. “Not sure it matters if I like it or not. It’s all I’ve ever known, and I’m too old to start anew.”

“Yeah, I suppose. Have you… have you seen any weird stuff out there?” I figured if anyone knew anything about mysterious ocean spirits, it would be Sully.

The old timer flicked his cigarette into the water. “I found a trouser press floatin’ in the ocean once,” he told me, stony-faced. “Took it home and fixed it up. Never sailed out with creases in my bib ‘n’ brace ever again.”

I stared at him until his face contorted into a grin and he coughed out a croaky laugh. I slapped him on the arm and laughed with him. “Oh, you!”

“I’m just messin’ with ya,” he told me, ruffling my hair.

“Have you ever seen a Selkie?”

The old man’s demeanour shifted all of a sudden. His smile vanished and something akin to panic filled his pale eyes. “Why you askin’ me that?”

“I’m reading a book about a Selkie. Do you think they really exist?”

The stiffness in his posture seemed to soften, then he was back to his old self again. “I’ve seen some strange things for sure. Don’t recall seein’ any Selkies, though.”

“But how would you know? A Selkie could have climbed out of its sealskin and might be living as a normal person, but no one would have a clue.”

“Well… that’s as maybe, but I wouldn’t worry yourself over it. Selkies is harmless enough. Now, Finfolk – there’s something you don’t wanna run into.”

“Finfolk?”

So Sully told me the saga of the Finfolk, wicked shapeshifters who lived in their underwater city of Finfolkaheem, and how they would come ashore and kidnap people, forcing them into a life of servitude.

I listened enthralled as he recounted the old sailor’s tale in his gravelly timbre, until eventually the others returned from their breakfast, and the task of unloading the rest of the fish demanded our attention.

By lunchtime we were done, so Aunt Rita and I made our way back home while Uncle Derek secured his boat. As we passed a row of houses that overlooked the beach, my aunt gestured to one of them and told me it was where Madeline lived. I was quick to make a mental note of it.

The first thing I did back at the cottage was scrub myself raw in the bath, eager to rid myself of the fishy stench that clung to me. Having done that, I slipped on my best summer dress – my only dress – did a little curtsy to myself in the mirror, then headed out to return the doll that Isla had mistakenly left at Aunt Rita’s last night.

Of course, all I really wanted was to see Madeline. I was a little wary of the glamorous doctor, but also incredibly drawn to her. My encounter with her the night before may simply have been teasing on her part, but it wasn’t hard convincing myself she’d been flirting with me, and that left me keen to find out how far she was willing to take things. After all, as far as her own daughter was concerned, the woman’s moral lines were few and far between.

“I’m just going downtown to take Isla’s doll back,” I told my aunt as she tinkered with one of her cars in the yard. It was Sunday afternoon and Madeline wouldn’t be at the surgery, but I hoped to find her at home.

My aunt arched a sceptical eyebrow at me. “You look a bit overdressed for a quick delivery. Why the nice frock?”

I flapped my arms up and down in an attempt to project casual indifference, then realised it probably just made me look weird. “Uh, Dunno, it’s a nice day so I thought I’d wear it.”

As I left the cottage behind, Aunt Rita called after me in a sing-song voice. “She’s going to gobble you uh-uuup!”

I was counting on it.

***

Madeline’s status as town doctor afforded her a prime piece of real estate – or as prime as the humble seaside town would allow – that overlooked the beach. Strolling up to the house, something occurred to me: Why would a Selkie bother going to all the effort of enrolling in medical school? Perhaps she was an incredibly ambitious Selkie. Or could it be she had the whole town fooled and wasn’t actually a doctor at all? The latter didn’t bode well for the health and well-being of the local populace, so I considered the former more plausible. With that little mystery resolved to my satisfaction, I straightened out my dress and rang the doorbell.

Isla answered the door in nothing but a pink t-shirt and a pair of matching panties. “‘Ello!” she hollered at me.

“Hi, Isla. I brought your doll,” I said, handing her the little plastic toy. “You left it at Aunt Rita’s.”

“Thanks! Did you play with it? I don’t mind if you did.”

“No,” I told her, breaking into an involuntary grin as I recalled my aunt’s unique use for the toy. “But Aunt Rita did…”

“Okay, bye then!” Isla beamed back, before closing the door on me.

“Wait! Am I allowed to come in?”

“Who is it, Isla?” I heard Madeline call from inside.

“It’s Hailey. She said Rita played with my doll.”

“Well, don’t leave her standing on the doorstep, silly girl – let her in.”

Isla turned back to me. “Mummy said don’t… don’t leave her… um… you… she said not to—”

“I know, I can hear her,” I interjected.

“Okay, come in.”

Stepping across the threshold of the Selkie’s lair, I pondered my chances of making it back out alive. “Do I have to take my shoes off?” I asked Isla.

“Dunno,” she helpfully replied, so I took them off anyway.

I was marshalled into the lounge where Madeline held court from a leather recliner chair, looking stylish in a pair of flared cappuccino trousers and a cream blouse unbuttoned at the neck. Lush, dark hair cascaded down across her shoulders to frame an ample bosom.

The room was light and airy, long sash windows draped with wispy net curtains that undulated gently in the breeze. A set of sliding glass doors opened out onto a wooden balcony and a flight of steps leading to the ocean. It wasn’t hard to imagine Madeline slipping into her sealskin in the dead of night and making her way down to the waters of her true home.

“This is a nice surprise, Hailey,” the doctor purred.

“I just came to bring Isla’s doll back.”

“She bringed my doll back,” Isla confirmed, and held the toy aloft to prove it.

“That was kind of Hailey, wasn’t it?”

The little girl nodded. “Hmm-mm.”

“Did you say thank you?”

“Yep.”

Madeline smiled across at me, her fingertips idly teasing the space between neck and cleavage. “Isla told me you both had lots of fun last night.”

“Um… yeah,” I mumbled, an encroaching feeling of impending doom tugging at me.

“What did you do that was so much fun?”

“We… we just watched TV mostly.”

“Oh? That isn’t what Isla told me.”

The six-year-old clambered up onto her mother’s lap. “It’s okay, Hailey. Mummy doesn’t mind.”

“Hailey, take a seat,” Madeline instructed me, then I knew I was in trouble.

I sank down into the couch opposite mother and daughter. Giving the front door a quick side-glance, I wondered if I could get to it before Madeline got to me. I hadn’t worn my nice dress just to end up being utterly destroyed by a mythical sea creature. Actually, I don’t think Selkies murdered people – not according to my book, anyway. Madeline may have been the exception to the rule, though.

“So you were doing rude things with my daughter.” A statement, not a question. The cat was well and truly out of the bag.

“W-we were just messing about,” I squeaked.

Madeline’s words were honey laced with razor blades. “Tell me what you did.”

“Just… just stuff.”

“Tell me.”

“I-I don’t want to,” I stuttered.

“Why don’t you want to tell me?”

“Because… it’s embarrassing. And you’ll be angry.”

“No. I won’t be angry. And there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Nothing at all.” Madeline drew her daughter’s t-shirt up past her waist. “Isla was very naughty to tell you about the things we do together. I’ve explained to her the need for secrecy in these matters.”

The doctor snaked a hand down between Isla’s legs, her fingers tracing the child’s cleft through the pink cotton of her panties. “But now we both have a secret, don’t we? And if you keep my secret, I’ll keep yours. Does that sound fair, Hailey?”

I sat mesmerised as Madeline stroked her little girl. It was happening. Sex was happening. Right here. “Yeah. Don’t worry, I won’t ever say anything.”

“Good.”

Madeline planted little kisses across the child’s neck. “Lift your bottom up for Mummy,” she told her, then hooked her thumbs into the waistband of Isla’s knickers, drawing them down her legs and discarding them upon the floor. “Knees up and legs apart, honey. Let’s give Hailey a nice view.”

“Are we going to show Hailey rude things?” Isla asked as her chubby legs parted to reveal a puffy pink mound.

Her mother licked a finger, then ploughed it through the bulbous lips of her daughter’s pussy, a perfectly manicured, painted nail parting the pale flesh as it went to and fro. “We certainly could. But perhaps we shouldn’t. We don’t want Hailey to get scared and run away, do we?”

She was daring me to stay the course. Telling me it was all or nothing, that if I chose to walk away the door would be closed to me forever. Even at eleven, I understood what the stakes were. I would never get a chance like this again.

Hiking my dress up, I slipped my panties off without hesitation, then spread my legs to display myself to the beautiful woman and her daughter opposite me.

Madeline flashed her eyes. “Well, there’s a challenge if ever I saw one.” She set Isla on her feet and gave the six-year-old a pat on the bum. “I think we should take this upstairs. Show Hailey where my bedroom is, poppet. I’ll be up in a sec.”

Isla grabbed me by the hand and pulled me up from the couch. “Follow me, Hailey!”

Madeline’s bedroom was spacious and without clutter, a cool white suite dominated by an ornate cream and gold queen size bed, the sheets as pale and stark as the surrounding decor. Isla leapt upon it with a  whoop, while I sat on my haunches upon the bedspread in a more respectful manner.

Madeline wasn’t far behind. She closed the door, then unbuttoned both her blouse and trousers, discarding each garment upon the grey wooden floor. “Two pretty little girls in my bedroom… Whatever shall I do with you both?” the doctor purred as she knelt on the bed and took Isla into her embrace. “Kiss Mummy.”

Isla wrapped both arms around her mother, and the two of them shared an intimate kiss. Then a little pink t-shirt was being pulled up and off, leaving the six-year-old naked and cherub-like. Madeline bent to take a tiny nipple into her mouth, swirling her tongue round the pink nub before switching to the other.

The little girl gazed at me with a dreamy smile. “Look what Mummy’s doing.”

All I could do was sit and stare, and wonder if I was to remain a spectator in this delightfully erotic game. Until Madeline finally set her hungry eyes upon me. “Help Hailey take her dress off, Isla,” she told her daughter, then Isla was unzipping me, pulling the dress down my body.

Madeline stalked panther-like across the bed, then pushed me onto my back. She raked her fingertips down my pale frame, causing me to shiver. When her hand found my pussy, I thrust myself against her touch, a short moan escaping my lips.

“So eager,” Madeline growled, her finger slipping inside me. “And so wet for such a young girl.” She fucked me for a few tantalising minutes before sucking herself clean of my juices, then reached back to unsnap her bra and allow her breasts to spill free. She loomed over me, a dangling tit guided toward my mouth. I took her dark nipple between my lips as she stroked my hair and murmured, “Suck my titty. Make it nice and wet.”

Isla wriggled her way alongside me to grasp her mother’s other breast with both hands and suckle upon it like a baby.

“Now kiss each other,” Madeline demanded, so we exchanged her nipples for each other’s tongues while she peppered her way down our bodies – a trail of kisses snaking across chests, ribs and navels. Then finally down to our pussies, where she lingered, bobbing between Isla and myself, fingers, teeth and tongue employed with expert precision.

I moaned out loud and tried to grab her hair, but she slapped my hands away.

“I didn’t say you could touch me, little girl,” she told me harshly. “Put your hands behind your head and keep them there until I make you come.”

l swallowed my defiance and did as the doctor asked while she flicked and lashed her tongue over me, parting my labia with her thumbs so she could get at the swollen nub of my clitoris.

I came harder than any eleven-year-old had any business coming. Hard enough that I thought I might actually faint. “Oh, my God!” I shrieked.

Isla’s orgasm was a more subdued affair. She sucked on a thumb and gazed down drowsy-eyed as Madeline took the child’s entire peach-like vulva into her mouth, tongue rolling back and forth inside the tight gooey hole. Isla closed her eyes and drew a long breath of pure ecstasy, writhing and quivering as the climax racked her small body.

I lay there in a daze and watched Isla get on her hands and knees at her mother’s instruction. When the child’s bare bottom was adjacent to my face, Madeline bared her teeth at me – more snarl than smile. “I’m going to lick my little girl’s arsehole now, Hailey. Would you like to watch me do that?”

“Yeah. I would,” I answered quickly.

She laughed at my eagerness, and a mocking edge tinged her words. “Are you sure? It’s ever such a rude thing for a girl your age to see.”

“Please, Madeline,” I whined. “I won’t tell anyone or anything.”

“Well, seeing as you asked so nicely…”

She began with a light flick of her tongue – a mere tickle upon the child’s puckered hole. Isla squealed with laughter and jolted away, her rosebud twitching at the sudden violation. “Keep still,” her mother growled, then plunged back between her daughter’s arse, stabbing lewdly at the taut muscle while I watched on in appalled fascination.

Without warning, Madeline swung a hand back and gave Isla a light slap across each bum cheek, employed at exactly the right angle and with enough force to elicit a satisfying crack, causing the pink globes to quiver like jelly.

“Ow-wa,” Isla protested half-heartedly, peering back at her mother with a scowl, and perhaps the faintest hint of a smirk.

“Oh, shush,” Madeline scoffed. “Mummy will kiss it better.” She grasped each tiny cheek and sucked on them one after the other, leaving the pale flesh ablush and glistening with saliva. Then, prising the little girl open once again, she snaked her tongue through the tight slit and back into the crack of her arse.

Turning to me with wild eyes, Madeline told me, “I want to see you eat her,” before grabbing Isla’s legs and unceremoniously depositing her on my face. The doctor slipped her own knickers off and knelt adjacent to us, then spread her daughter’s bum cheeks apart. She dipped two fingers inside herself, and they emerged moments later glistening with her juices. I thought she meant to pop them into my mouth, but instead she smeared the viscous fluid over her little girl’s smooth cunt. “Taste it,” she commanded.

I slithered my tongue through the sticky bare flesh while Madeline held the six-year-old open for me. The scents that filled my nostrils were potent and complex: The faint acrid notes of Isla’s pussy and arse – subtly akin to the smell of saliva on skin – and the mature earthy musk of her mother, all combined into one overpowering carnal perfume.

I spent the rest of the afternoon in a fog of hypnotic arousal, willfully resigning myself to Madeline’s control. Her fingers grasped and probed at me: between my legs, in my mouth, and stroking through my hair. When she had me lick Isla’s arsehole, cooing and tittering at me as I went about it, I knew I was simply another one of her playthings, but didn’t much care.

Then she was lowering herself down onto my face, the hot moist Venus flytrap of her cunt rubbing against my mouth as she squatted over me and hissed nasty words, until my head swam with it all and the need for release was an exquisite torture.

We sat opposite one another with our legs slung wide, and joined pussy to pussy, grinding together at the doctor’s instruction, while Isla stood over us and rubbed the palms of her hands up and down her swollen vulva.

“I’m so glad you decided to pay us a visit, Hailey,” Madeline purred as we tribbed.

“M-me, too…” I whimpered.

Isla was chuckling away to herself as we fucked beneath her.

“What’s so funny, munchkin?” her mother asked.

“This!” the six-year-old trilled impishly, then proceeded to pee over the two of us.

But the good doctor barely batted an eyebrow, and though I was all too familiar with her daughter’s little party trick, this time I was too far gone to muster any complaint.

“Dirty, dirty child,” Madeline hissed as the warm liquid splashed against her tits. “It’s rather rude to piss on us when we’re fucking, isn’t it, Hailey?”

“I’m… gonna do an orgasm…” I groaned as Isla gleefully swivelled her hips this way and that, the last of her piss dribbling over my belly and down between our legs.

“We – we’ll talk about this later, young lady,” Madeline told her daughter as she ground into me, pumping faster and harder. “But in the meantime, you just… stand there… while Hailey and I make each other come.”

We brushed labia against labia with an increased urgency, the roughness of Madeline’s pubic thatch sublime against my clitoris. Our climax was simultaneous, cunts joined as one, juices mingling, the sheets beneath us warm and wet.

I slumped back against the bed in exhaustion as Madeline hovered over me, her mouth upon mine. “You’re mine now,” she told me when finally we parted. “I’m going to corrupt you, Hailey. Just like I corrupted your aunt.”

I lay beneath her with the silliest of grins on my face – wet, exhausted, and stinking of sex. “Oh, Okay. I don’t mind, actually,” I told her breathlessly. “That sounds… quite nice?”

Madeline climbed off the bed and pulled her trousers back on. She straightened out her hair and gave me a perplexed look that told me I was probably a bit odd for an eleven-year-old. “Yes. Well. Would you like a glass of ice tea before you head home?”

“Ice tea for me, please!” Isla piped, bouncing up and down on the wet sheets.

***

When I got back to the cottage, Uncle Derek was in the yard mending fishing nets with Odette, while Aunt Rita busied herself beneath a car bonnet, as usual.

“There she is!” my uncle hollered. “Been off exploring, have ya?”

I gave him a sheepish look. “Uh, yeah. Kind of.”

“Stay away from the sea caves down in the bay, though,” he warned me. “The tides can catch ya out if you’re not careful.”

“I think she is more into reading books than exploring sea caves,” Odette mused.

“I do like to read,” I agreed. “But I like to have fun sometimes, too.” Especially if it involved sex with beautiful perverted ladies.

“Bastard fucking thing!” Aunt Rita yelled and hurled her spanner through the air. “Fucking carburetor hates me.”

I picked the tool up and went over to hand it back to her. “Why did you become a mechanic, Aunt Rita?”

“Because I’m an idiot,” she told me in a brusque manner, but then seemed to regret her tone. She breathed a sigh and told me, “I’m fascinated by machines. We didn’t have any where I came from.”

“Did you have to go to mechanic school?”

“Nope. Self taught. One morning I found myself tinkering with a broken toaster, and the next thing I knew, I’m fixing the whole town’s cars. Weird.”

“Do you want some help?” I offered.

“Underneath a car bonnet’s no place for girls in pretty dresses.” Shooting Odette and Uncle Derek a brief glance, she turned back to me with a sly look and a hushed tone. “But you can tell me why I smell a certain doctor on you.”

I gave her a doubtful smirk. “You can’t smell her.”

“Oh yes I ca-an! I’d know that body spray anywhere. Details, please!”

Did I want to tell her? My aunt seemed pretty laid back, and I’d seen first hand the extent of her own perversions. But there was still a chance she would take her friend’s molestation of me badly, me being her niece and all.

“She’s quite… rude, isn’t she?” I ventured. Neither an admission nor a denial.

“Ha! I knew it!” Rita cackled. “I bet she had your face between her legs.”

“Maybe…” I mumbled in a barely audible voice, my finger idly tracing the shape of a heart into a thin layer of dust upon the car chassis.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” my aunt asked me softly.

I nodded bashfully.

“Did she make you come?”

Another nod.

“I’m jea-lous!” she sang, and I wondered exactly who she was jealous of.

I regarded my aunt with a growing curiosity: Her thick, dark hair, all tied up in a bun, pale skin and sparkling brown eyes. And then suddenly a memory. No, not a memory – because I remembered her with red hair, not black, and green eyes instead of brown. A dream, then. And in my dream Rita was not the loud, brash aunt I knew, but a quieter, more subdued creature. I tried to clarify the image in my mind’s eye, but it slipped away as all dreams do.

“Don’t you mind?” I asked her.

“Mind what?” Rita replied, glancing up at me from her work. I must have been daydreaming for longer than I thought.

“That Madeline… did stuff to me?”

Aunt Rita merely shrugged. “I tried to warn you what would happen if you went over there. And you did tell me you enjoyed it. Do you want me to mind?”

It was my turn to shrug. “No. I’m glad you’re okay with it. You’re a pretty cool aunty, actually. And you say swear words in front of me.”

“Fuckin’ right I’m cool!” she exclaimed and tried to give me a high five.

I screwed up my face and recoiled. “Nah, you’ve got oily hands.”

My aunt rolled her eyes. “Kids these days – terrified of getting a bit of dirt on ’em.”

“I’m gonna have a shower, okay?” I told her, making my way towards the cottage.

“Hailey?” my aunt called, beckoning me back with a finger.

“Yes?”

“Not a word of this to your uncle. Or anyone else for that matter. They wouldn’t understand.”

After all the very adult things I’d participated in that day, I found myself a little offended at being reminded of the child I still was. “I’m not stupid, Aunt Rita. I won’t tell anyone.”

She kissed me on the forehead. “Good girl.”

Back in my room, I dove onto the bed with a whoop and lay there grinning up at the ceiling with my arms and legs splayed wide. What on earth had I gotten myself into? I’d climbed aboard a magical ferry and sailed over to my very own porn movie featuring a naughty aunt, a perverted doctor and a dirty little girl. Mum could stay on honeymoon with her slimy new husband for as long as she wanted, for all I cared. I was quite happy here on this isolated peninsula with Aunt Rita, Uncle Derek, Madeline and Isla. I thought I could still smell the doctor’s scent, then suddenly remembered why.

I pulled a pair of panties out of my dress pocket and inspected them. I’d snatched them up from the floor while Isla helped her mum make tea in the kitchen, squirrelling them away in my dress before anyone had noticed. Madeline’s dirty knickers. The scent of a Selkie. Probably.

I crushed the soiled satin against my face and breathed in its aroma. “Fuck you, Mum,” I mumbled into the damp undies with a big satisfied grin on my face. “Fuck you.”

On to Chapter Four!

For a useful summary of the plot thus far, please consult the Chapter Links before reading.

by kinkys_sis and kinkychic

The Chase

John Rudge worked quickly. The documentation was drawn up with impressive haste, and by the evening of the following day, the staff and workers had been told of the change in circumstances. Everyone appeared delighted with Josh’s promotion. Overseer in Absentia seemed to him to be a grand title. What delighted him most, though, was when Marianna announced that he and his family, which included his daughter Daphne, should move into the main house. The house staff would carry on in their jobs as if nothing had changed.

The next morning, Marianna called everyone together to say her farewells. I could sense her mixed emotions – sadness of leaving her home, yet joy at the prospect of the life ahead. She would take little with her – a few clothes, a brace of pistols, a pair of rapiers, a cavalry sword that had belonged to her father, and finally, her painting of me.

While we were still gathered, I heard the unmistakable sound of a horse galloping towards the plantation. It turned out to be one of John’s workers. He flung himself from the horse, gasping for breath as he blurted out, “There is a British frigate in the harbour. They are asking about the Siren. We do not know what they may have been told, but Mr John says you are not safe here, miss.”

“Captain.”

“Miss Captain.”

It was alarming news, but there was yet more. “Your ship has been sighted to the north of the island,” the messenger said. “She is not alone, there is another ship with her. Mr John signalled your ship, and they sent a boat in. They are waiting for you there.”

I turned to Marianna. “We had best be moving, and quickly. Hornigold might be out searching around the islands.”

Her last words to Josh were, “Look after my property, boss. Keep it safe until I return.” She gently touched his cheek. “I would kiss you, my friend, but you and I know it would be quite scandalous.”

She then turned to Daphne, speaking quietly so that no one else could hear. “We shall not forget you. You brought us pleasure. I would wish you every happiness. Find someone of your own to love – you will make her a wonderful companion.”

***

We saw the Siren as soon as we crested the hill. She was anchored quite close in. The other ship lay further out, and I had no idea who it might be.

Davy was waiting on the beach, waving frantically for us to hurry. We were soon aboard the cutter, surging through the surf towards the Siren.

“Who’s that with us, Davy?” I asked.

“’Tis the Ranger… Charles Vane an’ Calico Jack. Be wantin’ to stay with us until we gets well away from ’ere.”

It would be good to see Jack again. Vane I knew only by reputation – and it was a most unsavoury one. I could not imagine what had brought the two of them together.

For the moment, though, I still had another worry. Had the crew fully accepted that Marianna would come aboard? But the cheers that I heard from the men as we approached were a most welcome sound. It seemed I had nothing to worry about in that regard.

Marianna waved away the chair the deckhands lowered for her. “It was agreed, was it not? I am to be treated no differently than any other.” With that, she took hold of the swinging ladder and hauled herself nimbly over the rail.

It was good once more to feel the Siren’s deck beneath my feet. I asked Davy to see Marianna below, then attended to our situation. The first order of business was to haul anchor and bring the Siren to within hailing distance of the Ranger. Next was the first mate’s report. As we were gathering headway, I asked how the ships had come to be in consort.

“We were rounding the headland of one of the outer islands when we saw her beating towards us,” Jensen said. “I knew it was the Ranger that I had last seen in New Providence. We could also see another ship about three or four miles astern of her. By the cut of the Ranger’s sails, I knew it was a chase. Running like that could only mean trouble. So I tacked fast and fell in with her.” He went on to tell me that he had recognised Calico Jack, but hadn’t at first known who the other person was, only that he seemed to be acting as captain.

They had successfully evaded the pursuing vessel by running through the shallower channels between the islands, finally anchoring in a small bay in the hope that the other ship would give up – which it appeared to have done. There had been no further sighting of her.

Charles Vane was indeed the captain of the Ranger. The ship had been at New Providence when a large force had attacked, both with ships’ cannon and many marines. Several of the pirate ships had surrendered once they saw the force arrayed against them. Others had fought, suffering much damage and loss of life in the process. It had been chaos. Rackham had fled with Vane to the Ranger, which had managed to make good its escape.

Vane had suggested that he stay with the Siren until her captain was back aboard. The two ships’ combined firepower might be sufficient to deter their hunters.

“One thing I did notice though, Captain,” the mate concluded. “Rackham and Vane clearly are not the best of friends. They seem to disagree on almost everything.”

This hardly came as a surprise. Charles Vane was infamous for his extreme cruelty, often sinking ships with the crew still aboard or a shipment of slaves in the hold after he had taken what he wanted. I wasn’t at all keen on being in league with him. Rackham, on the other hand, was a most amiable fellow, fair to his crew and merciful to his enemies.

We were the larger vessel and better gunned than the Ranger, so, Vane, together with Rackham, paid his respects aboard the Siren. I was somewhat disconcerted to see that Anne Bonny was with them.

Calico Jack looked puzzled as he walked towards me. “I do believe we’ve met before. Wait… you can’t be… you’re the young one that put a sword to my throat. And now here you are. So you’re the famous Captain Bren!” He gave me a bow, “At your service, ma’am.”

Vane, on the other hand, looked amused. “I’d heard the Siren was captained by a woman. But you… you’re just a child.” He glanced at my crew. “What kind of men are you that has a female child leading them?”

I saw the crew stiffen, several reaching for their weapons. Jensen spoke up first. “I should be careful what you say, Mr Vane. You’re a guest aboard the Siren. A little respect might be in order.”

Vane seemed to consider as he glared at the mate, but settled on discretion. “As you say.” He turned to me. “Hornigold may have three or more ships looking for me, but they have split up as they search the different islands. We have no idea where they are.”

So it was an all-out venture to hunt us down. I told Vane about the British frigate on the other side of the island. For one with such a fearsome reputation, I was surprised at how worried he looked.

I thought of our options. Either we could try and hide among the islands, or we could make a run for open waters and hope we weren’t spotted – at least not by the frigate. The Ranger mounted fourteen guns, none very large. We had twenty, but the frigate would be carrying at least twenty-eight. It would be nearly an even match, but we would undoubtedly suffer considerable damage. The one thing we would have in our favour was the Siren’s single twelve-pounder – the very gun we had commandeered the day I first laid eyes on Marianna. Neither the frigate nor any of the other ships would be expecting it.

I didn’t much care for the idea of us getting trapped in a bay or channel by three or four ships. If there was to be a fight, then open waters would give us a better chance of escape.

“We will sail for Antigua,” I decided. “You’re welcome to join us, Vane, but I want one thing understood. If we are intercepted, you will follow my orders. We must act as one force, and that won’t work if each does as he will.”

I thought Vane would explode, but Rackham intervened. “The captain talks sense, Charles. May I suggest we do as she says, for now at least.”

Vane, who still looked like thunder, replied grudgingly, “I hope you know what you’re doing, but be warned, the moment I see any hesitation or what I consider an error of judgement, you’re on your own.”

Whilst the officers were gamming in this way, I had failed to notice that Marianna had come back on deck. It was only as Vane and Rackham turned to leave that I saw the hostile look she was giving Anne. A woman’s instinct must have told her that here was the one I had dallied with. It was Anne who cut through the ice. “You’re a lucky one, that you are, my beauty,’ she said. “An’ you looks like you’ll suit the captain just fine. I knew someone had her heart, and now I see why. God bless you both.”

With that, she offered her hand. I choked at the brazenness of the gesture, and at the steel in my lover’s eyes. I braced for a display of Latin fireworks, but after a moment of stern contemplation, Marianna’s resolve crumbled, and the women fell into one another’s arms.

“Thank you,” Marianna said. “I’m glad I met you, or I might have always wondered.”

It was a stiffening breeze that sped us away from the island. We sailed fairly close, thus reducing our chances of being spotted. The Ranger was off our port side.

Barely half an hour had elapsed when the top lookout shouted. “Sail, starboard beam!” A short pause, then: “Three-master, and she’s heading to intercept!”

The frigate! Having a much taller mainmast, she had spotted us first. The chase was on – a chase we had no chance of winning.

I brought the Siren to within hailing distance of the Ranger. “We cannot outrun her,” I called. “If we stay on this course, she will have all the choices as she gets near, and we shall be reacting to whatever her captain decides, besides being at the mercy of her bow chaser – she could do us a lot of damage with that! I suggest we reduce speed, let her think she is catching us. When I give the signal by dipping our colours, we will each tack and reverse course. Perhaps we shall take her by surprise and sweep down each side of her. She will be beating into the wind. We shall be running before it and double our speed towards her.”

Vane came straight back: “But that’s suicide against a frigate! You’re mad…”

“Vane, you are likely unaware, but I have a twelve-pounder and four eights. The frigate will also be unaware. She will get quite a shock when we open fire. You will maintain sufficient distance from her so as you are able to fire low. Aim for her gun ports. We don’t want our own shot hitting each other.”

A curious scene played out on the deck of the Ranger. A furious argument broke out between Rackham and Vane, and as it continued, the crew began lining up behind Rackham. There was clearly some sort of a showdown taking place.

Minutes later her sails slackened. Clearly, it was Rackham giving the orders. Vane, it seemed, had been overthrown.

Marianna stood behind me as we watched the frigate draw closer. I couldn’t keep myself from worrying about her being on deck as we went into action. But I knew there was no choice. She had to be seen facing the danger along with everyone else. I marvelled at her appearance, every inch the pirate. Like me, she wore two pistols, with a short dagger tucked in her belt and her father’s cavalry sword held loosely at her side. Her beautiful hair was hidden beneath a headscarf.

Our two ships were still running fairly close to each other. I saw Jack raise his hat to me. I sensed the bugger was enjoying his new command and the prospect of the coming battle.

 

There was a loud crack. The frigate had fired her bow chaser at us, no doubt an order for us to haul in our sails. The shot whistled harmlessly overhead, hitting nothing. He had just played into my hands. He would think we were about to shorten sail and obey his threat when I sent the crew scurrying about the ropes.

A glance told me that Rackham was watching, waiting for my signal. I yelled to Davy, “Dip the flag, Bosun.” I had already told the men they had to tack faster than they had ever done before.

Ranger heeled hard over as she began her turn. A sudden, one-hundred-eighty-degree turn is not an easy manoeuvre. Sail and rope handlers have to be expert at their jobs lest an awful muddle ensue. The Siren heeled the opposite way. The crack of flapping sails sounded like pistol shots. Then we were turning, and now we had to hope we didn’t end up in irons with sails flapping uselessly. That would put us at the mercy of the enemy.

The Siren once again caught the wind, her sails snapped taut, and we flew straight towards the frigate. We were faster than the Ranger, and I prayed we didn’t pull too far ahead. But, even at this distance, I could see Jack gesticulating furiously. The Ranger clearly increased her speed.

Our bow chaser was loaded with chain shot. I hoped Jack’s was as well. I hadn’t thought to tell him. He was watching and waiting for my signal. I waved my cutlass high, before counting to five. “Fire!” I yelled. Both cannons boomed in unison.

Within a heartbeat, I saw the chaos on the frigate’s deck. Men red with blood staggered about. Sails flapped loose where ropes had been severed. The moment of truth was fast approaching.

Our guns had orders to fire the moment they came to bear. The first eight-pounder roared, followed rapidly by the next. It was like a tremendous roll of thunder as gun after gun fired, both ours and the Ranger’s.

The Siren took a massive blow, reeling with the impact. I turned and went to drag Marianna low, but she had already ducked down. Our starboard gunwale exploded, sending lethal slivers of wood flying in all directions. A severed stay flew past my head, cutting one man in half where he stood.

We passed the frigate’s stern. We were clear. A glance told me that Marianna was unharmed before I searched for the Ranger through the billowing smoke. She looked to have taken a lot of damage. Her foremast hung over the side, dragging in the water.

My men acted quickly. Some tended to the wounded, others rushed to get the sails back under control. Rope handlers scurried up the shrouds, pulling fresh lines aloft. We appeared to have got off relatively lightly.

The first mate drew my attention astern. The frigate was already low in the water, and she was sinking fast. The gun captain had done his job well. I had told him to aim the twelve-pounder below our opponent’s waterline. From a range of barely a hundred feet, our shot had smashed through her side.

Marianna assisted the surgeon. She looked badly shaken, but still, she did her part. It hadn’t occurred to me that she had never witnessed the horrors of an engagement at sea. The sight of the dead and the severed limbs could have unnerved anyone.

We turned back and headed for the frigate. Her flag came down as we approached. I ordered the cutters, which were being towed astern, hauled back to the ship. In battle, they were not kept on deck. They would be in the way. Even worse would be the flying splinters if they got hit.

Davy took charge of the rescue mission, picking up the half-drowned navy tars. Others reached the safety of the scramble nets we had dropped down our port side. The frigate didn’t appear to have any boats of her own in the water. They must have been blown to bits.

Our wounded were now all below with the surgeon and Marianna. The dead had been moved aside and covered over. Jensen produced a barrel of rum for mugs to be passed around. I went to survey what damage we had sustained.

The carpenter informed me the damage below decks was fairly light. Only one gun port had taken a direct hit. We had lost one four-pounder, along with the gun crew of four. Other damage was superficial. My ruse had indeed caught the frigate’s captain unawares. She had fired on us, but not in any coordinated manner.

Their captain was dead. The first officer offered me his sword, although it clearly troubled him to be surrendering to a woman.

“Give your oath that there will be no trouble from your men,” I told him. “Then they will be well treated, and the injured will be seen to. I shall deliver your men ashore as soon as it is safe to do so.”

He was obviously surprised. No doubt he knew that Charles Vane would have seen them all dead. In fact, Vane would not have rescued any in the first place. He would have simply sailed away, laughing at their plight as they drowned. The thought reminded me, I was still puzzled as to what had transpired aboard the Ranger.

***

An hour later, we were seated in my cabin. The cook had prepared a hasty meal, but at least it was fresh chicken and vegetables.

Captain Calico Jack was looking rather pleased with himself. “I must say, Captain. It was a fine plan and perfectly executed. Who’d have thought that we could sink a frigate? The king will be mightily irate with us, don’t you think?” He took another swig of his wine.

In answer to my question, he explained how the men of the Ranger had thought my plan was their best option, given the circumstances. Vane had wanted to run, saying they couldn’t take on a frigate. The crew turned against him. A hasty vote branded Vane a coward, and he was ousted. Rackham was unanimously voted as his replacement.

Marianna looked drawn and tired. Her baptism of fire had been a horrifying experience. We had lost eighteen men, the Ranger, twenty-six. But the frigate had fared far worse. One hundred and six had perished, and more would likely succumb to their wounds.

Jack returned to the Ranger. We would remain with her at least until we anchored in Antigua. We needed to seriously consider our future, as Britain would now be out for our blood. It might be that the West Indies were becoming too dangerous for us. Perhaps the great age of piracy was coming to an end.

Alone at last, I took Marianna in my arms. There was no need for words. I simply held her tight.

It was an age before she spoke. “I’m alright, my love. I’m not sure what I expected of a battle. Dead, yes, but so many, and so suddenly. Then I found I drew strength from helping the wounded. The surgeon was ready to send me away, but I insisted he let me help. I intend to ask him to teach me … with your permission, of course.”

She paused, looking searchingly into my face. “Yes, I can still see it,” she went on. “There is a fire in your eyes. I saw how intense it was, almost frightening when we were about to engage the English. I, too, felt it. I cannot find the right words to explain. Perhaps exhilarating, almost – arousing.”

I smiled with relief. It had long concerned me that I experienced such feelings at the prospect of battle. That Marianna did, too, was vindication in a way. “So, my love,” she said. “Do you not think it would be a pity to let this arousal go to waste?”

A fleeting understanding crossed my mind of why Anne Bonny fucked as hard as she did. To the survivor, danger is a spur to passion. Release follows terror, producing an exaltation greater than either, which in Marianna’s case unleashed a wildcat. She mashed her lips against mine. She tore at my clothes. For a grand length of time, we rolled and tussled on my cot in naked abandon. There was fire in her eyes as well as my own, a fire I had not seen before. She even snarled as she brought me to climax, her fingers filling and ramming my cunt. She had to shake herself to calm down.

When release was at last complete, we lay clasped in each other’s arms, lazily recovering our senses. Marianna looked up at me, and seeing the silly, satisfied grin on my face, she said, “Mi querida capitana, do you know how much I love you?”

***

The bosom of the sea rose in gentle swells. The wind drove us swiftly towards our destination. The crew were in high spirits, having put their dead comrades out of their minds, as this was the life we led. I ordered a double ration of rum. The fiddler was already composing a ditty to recount our victory.

Marianna and I went up on deck to catch the evening air. The bosun called for quiet. One man stepped forward. “With your permission, Captain. I am elected to speak.” I nodded my assent. “Today you led us into a battle we thought we would lose, but we followed you. We trusted you, and you won us a victory we thought was impossible. We defied the king’s navy. We sank the fucker… er, begging your pardon, Miss Mary.”

He paused for the bosun to speak. “Let’s be ’earin’ it lads, a roar for the cap’ain!” The noise carried across the water to the Ranger, whose crew replied in kind.

The fiddler struck up a lively tune. He called it The Siren’s Reel, and it soon had the crew clapping and capering about. They pressed in upon Marianna and me, whooping like excited children and calling on us to lead the dance. We had no choice but to oblige. Marianna offered her hand. I took it, and, standing shoulder to shoulder, beaming at one another, we stepped lightly in a fixed circle – the Queen of the Pirates with a queen of my own.

For the moment, we were happy, and we were free. We were also homeless, stateless fugitives. What our next port of call would be, after we had set the frigate’s crew ashore, was a secret known only to heaven.

The End… for now

Historical note: A short time later, Charles Vane, now with another ship, was shipwrecked on an uninhabited island, where he was rescued but recognized. He was taken to Port Royal, Jamaica, and eventually hanged.

Jack (Calico Jack) Rackham, along with Mary Read and Anne Bonny, was also arrested when his ship was trapped in a bay. He was also hanged at Port Royal.

Mary Read died in prison. Anne Bonny’s fate is unknown and has been the subject of much speculation.

***

Afterword from kinkychic:

My sister and I both enjoy seafaring stories, and have books of them from a number of authors.

I wanted to weave some eroticism into a rollicking adventure, and pirates seemed the obvious choice. To test the water (!), I wrote the tavern scene first and asked Eloquent Delinquent what he thought of it as the basis for a story. He enthused over the chapter.

Encouraged, I wrote Chapter One… but then my private circumstances changed, and I seemed to lose the will to write.

Sis acquired DVDs of the complete TV series Black Sails. She got so immersed in the subject that she asked if she could carry on with the story, and soon we were working together. I was reinvigorated, so to speak.

I don’t believe we have ever put so much time into researching our subject. Authenticity was of the utmost importance.

We submitted the story to Juicy Secrets. JetBoy gave it an enthusiastic thumbs-up and passed it (with our blessing) to Jacqueline Jillinghoff for editing. Now came the surprise. She actually owned a copy of the book Under The Black Flag, so not only could she edit, but also raise factual queries.

The fact that she was already enthusiastic about the subject of pirates was the added bonus. An astonishing coincidence!

Between us, I believe we have produced something worthy of being classed as one of the best things we ever wrote.