Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

By Muffi

We collected up the mountain of luggage and carried it up the stairs to my room. Sara was impressed by my playground-sized bed, and she thought the mirrored walls were “really cool.” I was thanking whatever deity was responsible for the fact that I’d never installed a ceiling mirror. Try explaining that to a nine-year-old girl.

Why do I have a mirror on the ceiling? Oh, I’m just so pretty, I like to fall asleep looking at myself.

“Aunt Meagan, are we gonna go any place today?”

“I don’t know, Sweetie, why?”

“Cos if we’re not,” she said, “then we don’t have to stay dressed. We can put on PJs or sweats or something.”

Yeah, it was going to be a long day and night.

“Well,” I said, “I don’t know. Do you two want to do anything special, or do you want to just hang out and watch movies and do silly girl stuff?”

The two of them looked at each other for a moment.

“Movies and girl stuff!” shrieked Janelle.

“Yeah, movies and girl stuff!” Sara joined in, the two of them jumping up and down.

“Well, you two are easy to please,” I said. “Okay, movies and girl stuff it is.”

Two backpacks were thrown to a corner of the room. From the sound of it, they were both filled with school books. Sara opened her duffel bag, and Janelle was ripping into one of her other backpacks. Little girl clothing started to fly about the room as they rummaged around looking for something suitable to change into. I shook my head. Clean up was going to be fun, trying to sort out who owned what.

Almost before I knew it, I was in the presence of two little nine-year-old girls wearing nothing but panties and socks. They were both sorting through tee-shirts, searching out which they wanted to wear.

Dear God. Be still, my beating heart, I thought.

Fortunately for me, my back was facing the corner of the room where the two mirrored walls come together. I say fortunately because if I’d been looking at the mirrors, I would have been looking at multiple images of them. One of each was enough, thank you. More than that, I couldn’t handle right now.

Janelle was facing away, which gave the fast-growing pervert in me a chance to gaze at her cute little panty-clad ass for a moment. I had to tear my eyes away, or risk being caught drinking in that delicious sight. Jesus, I had descended into utter depravity.

Sara had already pulled a mid-thigh length tee-shirt over her head. I was grateful. The length would keep any flashing of her panties to a minimum. Janelle, on the other hand, had chosen a tee-shirt that fell only to the tops of her thighs, barely covering her pert little ass.

I was doomed. Fucking doomed.

Janelle spun around and stared at me expectantly. “Well? Aren’t you gonna wear something comfy, too, Aunt Meagan?”

Mentally shaking myself, I gave the girls a nervous smile. “Yup, I am,” I mumbled.

I kicked off my sneakers, then shucked out of my jeans and pulled my shirt off. I was acutely aware of the two little girls standing there, watching me change. Being aware of that, it seemed that I just couldn’t help myself. I slowed my movements. Perverted as it was, I wanted to parade around half naked for them.

Exhibitionist that I am, I bent at the waist and dug through my drawer for a few moments, knowing I was giving them a blatant view of my ass. Then I straightened up and turned around, holding a tee-shirt. I raised my arms and let it fall over me, hoping, without daring to look, that the girls had been peeking at my breasts.

In my head I could hear Ellie and Nellie from the living room. We’re watching you…

“Okay, you two,” I said, shaking out my hair. “Why don’t you go down and find a movie you want to watch, and I’ll go make some popcorn. Sound good?”

It must have sounded good, because the two girls disappeared almost in a blink.

I have a fairly extensive collection of DVDs. A good portion of them are kids movies. Having Janelle around a lot gives me a good excuse to have them. Besides, I like Disney movies. Sue me.

When I’d finished the popcorn — which took a few minutes since I make the real kind, done in a pot on the stove and slathered with butter and salt — I returned to the living room to find that we weren’t watching a Disney movie after all. Close enough, though. The girls had put chosen Madagascar. I could live with that. Chris Rock as the annoying Marty the Zebra never fails to make me giggle.

I handed each girl a couple of paper towels and put the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table. They sat on the floor between the couch and the coffee table, while I sat on the couch, one girl on either side of my feet. I passed out cans of ginger ale to the girls, cracked one open for me, and settled in to watch.

There was little discussion through the movie. When it was over, I was left with two little girls whose faces and hands were smeared with melted butter, so I herded them into the kitchen for a wipe down. That accomplished, we returned to the living room, and began the next feature, which natually was Madagascar: Escape 2 Africa.

As the movie was loading, Sara noticed that Janelle’s toenails were painted to match her fingernails. “You got painted toenails, too? That’s cool!”

Janelle proudly held a foot up for display. “I was ‘posed to wear sandals yesterday for my party, but then I talked my Mom into lettin’ me wear that leather outfit, instead of the dress ‘n sandals she wanted me to wear. Aunt Meagan painted ’em for me. Want yours done, too? I bet she’d paint ’em for ya if ya do.”

My services were being volunteered. Goody.

Janelle had turned to face me. “Wouldn’t’cha, Aunt Meagan?”

“If Sara wants me to, sure,” I said. Sara’s grin told me all I needed to know.

I gathered the necessary items together, and sat down cross-legged on the living room floor. Sara sat in front of me, clearly thrilled. I began to repeat the process that I had gone through with Janelle a couple of days ago. Sara seemed to share Janelle’s propensity for having squirmingly ticklish feet. Getting cotton balls inserted between her toes took a few minutes.

Once her toenails were finished, I asked Sara if she’d like me to paint her fingernails as well. She loved the idea.

Welcome to Meagan Bristol’s Nail Salon. I couldn’t remember the last time that I’d done my own nails, prior to preparing for Janelle’s birthday party. Anyhow, I told her that we should let her toes dry completely before painting her fingernails.

As suppertime came closer and closer, I asked Sara what she likes on pizza. Cheese and pepperoni. Of course.

“No mushrooms?” Janelle asked incredulously.

Sara shook her head vigorously. “Mushrooms’re gross!” she proclaimed.

Three small pizzas, then. One with pepperoni and mushrooms, one with pepperoni only, and a third with everything, including the kitchen sink. The girls squinched their faces in disgust when they heard me specify extra anchovies on mine.

Several hours later, I told the girls that it was time to think about getting ready for bed. “You two have school tomorrow,” I reminded them, “so you need to either shower or take a bath. Which do you want?”

They wanted to shower. Then they decided that it was just as easy to take one together. I herded them up the stairs to my room, where they each pulled out clean pairs of panties, then ambled into the bathroom. The two tee-shirts hit the floor along the way, their socks close behind. Finally, two pairs of panties wound up in a small heap next to the bath mat.

I turned on the shower, doing my best to avoid looking at either girl any more than I absolutely had to. My heart was throbbing like a V-8 engine.

Two naked little girls climbed into the shower. I heard some squealing for a moment, then Janelle piped up. “Aren’t you gonna take a shower, too, Aunt Meagan?”

I froze. “Uhmm, it’s okay, Sweetie. I can take mine when you and Sara are finished.”

“But why?” she asked, in perfect innocence. “There’s room for all of us.”

She was right. My shower is roomy.

Watch your step, I heard Ellie and Nellie say from the living room.

Half of me wanted to avoid that shower at all costs. That part, the sensible part, wanted to run into the bedroom and hide until the girls were finished.

That part lost the argument. With shaking hands, I pulled my tee-shirt over my head, then shoved my panties down, stepping out of them. “Okay, coming in,” I said, taking a deep breath as I opened the shower door.

Two drenched little girls were waiting for me, their hair slicked back and streaming water down over their little butts. The water made their little bodies gleam in the fluorescent light of the bathroom. They were both grinning widely at me.

I was glad for the water. It would have been awkward trying to explain the wetness growing between my thighs without the water to camouflage it.

As I began to soap myself, Sara looked at me with a growing curiosity. “How come you don’t have hardly any hair down there?” she asked.

“Uhmm… well, because I shave most of it off,” I said. For some reason, I felt mildly embarrassed.

Janelle was staring at my pussy openly, puzzlement showing plainly on her face. I wondered if she had just never noticed my lack of pubes before, or if she’d been reluctant to ask about it. She must not have noticed. Believe me, there are precious few questions that Janelle would hesitate to ask.

“How come?” Sara asked.

It just feels so much nicer when I touch myself, or when someone else touches me, without the hair there. Yeah, sure. I’ll bet her parents would really appreciate that explanation.

“I just don’t like to have a lot of hair on my body,” I replied. “Hair is for men.”

“My mom has hair down there,” Sara responded.

“Well, I would too, if I didn’t shave it off.”

“Doesn’t it hurt to shave it?” she asked.

“No,” I replied with a smile. “It doesn’t hurt.”

They were both still staring openly at my vulva. Be careful what you wish for, Meagan. You wanted to show your body off for the girls a few minutes ago. Looks like you got your wish. Unsettling, isn’t it?

“Besides,” I said, doing my best to ignore that voice in my head. “I think it’s prettier without all that hair there.”

“But nobody ever sees it,” said Janelle. “Who cares what it looks like?”

“I see it,” I replied. “My girlfriends see it. Besides, you two are seeing it right now, aren’t you?”

“That’s different,” said Janelle. “We’re taking a shower.”

Time to end this conversation. “Okay, cut it out, you guys! I just don’t like all that hair down there, okay?”

Both girls looked at me like I’d lost my mind, and I felt like a complete fool. Suddenly, Janelle handed me the soap. “Do our backs, Aunt Meagan?”

I took the soap with shaking hands. As they turned, I closed my eyes for a moment. Give me strength, please, I begged silently to some god out there. Preferably, one who looks out for gay women.

I grabbed a washcloth from the bar on the inside of the shower door. That’ll work, I told myself. If I use a washcloth, I won’t feel their soft, smooth skin under my fingers.

Calmer now, I lathered up the washcloth and began to scrub Janelle’s back. Yeah, sure. I wasn’t conscious at all of running my hand over the body of a naked little girl. No problem here, no sirree.

As I began to scrub lower, moving onto the swell of her little ass, my eyes were riveted to the swelling globes. So cute, so perfectly formed…

Stop it!

I quickly finished with Janelle’s back, then turned to Sara. I started at her shoulders, and worked my way down. Then I gasped.

At the small of her back, just above her pelvic bone, there was a dark, purplish bruise. It was a rounded rectangular shape. I stared at it for a moment, slowing down my scrubbing, trying to figure out what it looked like. Then it dawned on me.

I closed my hand for a moment and studied it. The bruise was a perfect imprint of a fist. Sara had been punched in the kidney. Hard. The bruise was much bigger than my own closed fist.

Whoever had hit her had big hands. A man’s hands.

I felt anger bubbling up inside of myself. No, that’s a lie. I felt rage starting to boil over.

Somehow I forced myself to stay calm as I continued to wash Sara’s back. When I finished, being careful to avoid what looked like a very painful bruise, I kept my voice neutral. “What happened to your back, Sara?”

“Huh?” She hesitated. “Oh… uh, I fell.”

“Ouch,” I said. “That must have hurt. Looks like it still does.” Janelle was looking at Sara’s back, too.

“It hurt at first,” she said. “But it’s not so bad now.”

“How’d you fall?” I asked her.

“I, uh… I tripped going up the steps on the porch,” she said.

Which would have caused you to fall face forward, I thought, the rage continuing to build.

I decided to stop questioning Sara. It was obviously making her nervous. I’d sort out what to do next after I thought about it, hopefully calmed down a bit. That wouldn’t be easy.

“Next time, be more careful going up the stairs, silly!” I told her.

She had turned to face me again, now. She smiled nervously at me, nodding. “I will,” she said. “Sometimes I’m clumsy. That’s what my dad says.”

Clumsy. Yeah, sure. So clumsy of you, Sara, running into his fist like that. You need to learn to be more careful.

Our eyes remained locked for a moment. I knew. She knew that I knew. She looked away.

I tried to bring back the light mood from before. “C’mon, you two! Wash your hair, and then let’s get out of here and have cookies and milk in bed!”

Janelle squealed with delight. So did Sara, but a beat late. She was smiling like Janelle, but the smile seemed forced. I could tell that she was trying to bring back the happy vibe from before, to forget that bruise on her back.

The three of us got our hair washed, rinsed and conditioned, and got out of the shower. We dried off, the two girls put their clean panties on, I slipped into my tee-shirt, then they followed me to the bedroom. They wriggled back into their tee-shirts, I stepped into my panties on, and we all crawled onto the bed.

Now what? Well, for starters, I had to get Sara alone to question her. I knew I wouldn’t be able to relax, much less sleep, until I found out how she got that ugly mark on her back.

“Janelle,” I said, “why don’t you turn on the TV and find something we can watch in bed?” Then I turned to Sara, giving her a big smile. “Sara, would you help me get cookies and milk for all of us?”

She got down from the bed, still trying her best to be cheerful. It made me ache inside, seeing this soft-spoken little girl suppressing her feelings behind a strained grin.

I tossed Janelle the remote for the small bedroom television, and Sara and I went to the kitchen for snacks.

When we got to the kitchen, I placed my cookie jar on the table, then put a large plate next to it. “Can you fill up the plate, Sweetie?” I said. “Pile them as high as you can… I think we’re all pretty hungry.”

I silently poured three glasses of milk, then put the carton back in the refrigerator. Then I sat down at the table and took Sara’s right hand, looking into her frightened eyes.

“Sara, I’m not going to try and make you tell me anything that you don’t want to,” I said, calmly as I could. “But you and I both know that you didn’t hurt your back like that falling on your porch steps.”

I could feel her shiver. “I… I d-don’t…” She fell silent.

“Someone hit you,” I said simply. She looked away, unable to meet my gaze. I felt her trying to pull away, but held onto her hand. “I’m not going to push you, Sweetie,” I said. “But if you ever need anything, if you ever need help, or just someone to talk to, all you have to do is ask me, okay?”

Sara’s head moved in a barely-perceptible nod.

I wasn’t sure how she’d take it, but I did it anyway: I wrapped my arms around the child and hugged close, careful to avoid her lower back. She smelled sweet and clean, freshly showered.

What she said next made me freeze, catching my breath.

“Sometimes I’m bad.”

When I could breathe again, I drew back, seeking her eyes. She wouldn’t look at me.

“I don’t believe that, Sara,” I said.

She nodded slowly. “I am,” she said. “My dad gets mad at me sometimes, ’cause I’m bad.”

Using every ounce of inner strength I had to remain calm, I put my hands on her shoulders and waited for her eyes to meet mine before I spoke. “Sara, listen to me, okay? I don’t care what you might do to make your father angry with you. No one deserves to be hit. No one, not for any reason. Do you understand? No one has any right to hurt you.”

She didn’t look as if she believed me. I didn’t want to push her any further, though. It felt like a victory that I’d gotten her to open up to me this much. Best to let her decide if, and when, she wanted to say more.

“Come on,” I said, clearly changing the subject. “Janelle must be wondering why we’re taking so long.”

Sara smiled wanly and nodded. I handed her two glasses of milk, and picked up the plate of cookies and my own glass. We headed back up to the bedroom without a word.

The upside? I was no longer fighting my feelings of lust at being so close to two barely dressed little girls. Lust was the last thing on my mind right now.

Okay, let’s clarify that. Sexual lust was gone. There was still lust there. This was more on the order of bloodlust, though. I welcomed it.

Less than an hour later, the two girls were sleeping soundly. I turned the volume down on the television, but left it turned on. Then I padded out to the hall and went to my office, where I picked up the phone and called Kate.

After I’d apologized for calling late, I explained everything that had happened. She was silent for a moment when I’d finished.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” she said quietly.

“Jesus has nothing to do with this, Kate,” I said.

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I sighed. “You know how Social Services works in this state. They’ll investigate, he’ll cry and say he’s sorry, they drop the case, and then he’ll be twice as hard on her after they stop breathing down his neck. I don’t even want to think about what Sara’s mother must have to deal with.”

“I guess you’re right,” she said. “So now what?”

“Honestly, I don’t know,” I said. “But I do know that Sara is going to be asked to spend as much time as possible with Janelle. That way, she’ll have more time away from him. The two of them can hang out here after school. At least that gives her a few extra hours of peace every day.”

“But that still doesn’t solve anything,” she said quietly.

“No, it doesn’t,” I said. “Let me think on this for a little bit.” There was a tiny seed of an idea beginning to sprout in my mind. “I know someone who might be able to help.”

“Like who?”

“Well, like Michelle.”

“The cop? I thought you two weren’t seeing each other anymore.”

“Not romantically. But we’re still friends. And she’ll keep her mouth shut if I ask her to.”

“Well, it’s a place to start, I guess,” she said.

“Yeppers. And I’m going to have Sara call her mother in the morning. See if it’s okay for her to come over here and hang out with Janelle after school.”

“Okay, sounds like a plan.” She paused. “We have to do something, Meagan.”

“Yes, we do,” I replied. “I’m not going to let that fucker keep hurting her. She’s nine years old, for God’s sake. I’ll put a bullet in his head myself, if I have to.”

Kate was silent for a moment. “Don’t do anything stupid, Meagan, please,” she said. “I know it’s hard to think about Sara having to be in that situation for one more second. But you won’t solve anything if you get into trouble trying to help her.”

I sighed. My little sister, the voice of fucking reason. She was right, though. “Yeah, yeah,” I said.

“I know. I’ll be good, I promise.”

“Uh, Meagan? You are being good. You’re trying to help a little girl. What I’m saying is that you need to be patient, no matter how hard that might be.”

I hate it when Kate is right.

“I know. Listen, I’m going to get off here, and give Michelle a call. I want to try to figure out my next step here.”

“Okay, hon,” she said. “Keep me posted, okay?”

“I will,” I said. “Night.”

“Night, big sister.”

I hung up the phone and stood, pacing back and forth in the office for a few moments. I went to the kitchen, and poured myself a short shot of whiskey, tossed it back, and decided to bite the bullet. Taking a deep breath, I reached for the phone.

Like Kate said, Michelle is an ex-girlfriend of mine. We had a brief, but extremely intense relationship. What ended things was that we were simply too alike in personality. We both tend to be dominating women, and the constant struggle for power destroyed any chance there might have been for a long-term thing between us.

When we parted, Michelle and I stayed friends, though it was always a rather uneasy friendship. Too much history, I suppose.

But our personal issues aside, Michelle is a genuinely good person, and a hell of a cop. You constantly hear policemen saying that they took up the badge “to help people,” which is one of the oldest cliches in the book – but in her case, it’s the truth. That whole “To Protect and Serve” mentality is something that she truly believes and lives.

She’d be able to offer a sounding board for me, if nothing else. And because this involved a little girl being harmed, she’d be every bit as passionate about this situation as I was.

I dialed Michelle’s cell number from memory. She answered immediately, a hint of surprise in her voice. It had been a few months since I last called. “Meagan? What’s up?”

“Michelle, hi,” I said. Skipping the preliminaries, I got right to it. “Listen, I’ve got a problem, and I need some advice.”

“What’s up?” she said.

“First, are you on duty?” I asked.

“Nope. Just signed out.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. That meant she wouldn’t be called away unexpectedly.

I spilled the whole thing, from the first time that I’d met Sara, to my conversation with her in the kitchen earlier tonight. I didn’t leave anything out, with one exception: Sara’s last name. I wanted to hear what Michelle had to say first. If she went all by-the-book on me, I’d keep Sara’s identity to myself. Somehow, I knew that going through the official channels would probably do more harm than good with this situation. My hope was that Michelle would feel the same way.

When I’d finished, Michelle was silent for a moment. “Son of a bitch,” she finally hissed.

“Yeah,” I said. “Michelle, this bruise on her back… that fucker punched her hard. Right in the kidney, for Christ’s sake.”

I heard her suck in a deep breath. “Don’t tell me who he is,” she said. “If I know, I’ll have to do something official.”

“Okay,” I said. Good. She wasn’t going to be the cop for this.

“Listen,” she said, “is there any way you can get a picture of her back? I mean, without letting her know what you’re doing?”

“Maybe,” I replied. “What for?”

“Because, if all else fails,” she said, “and it has to go into the system, you’re going to want documentation of any injuries.”

I thought for a moment. “Uhmm… I could set up my laptop in the bedroom, and try to maneuver her into position so that the webcam gets a shot of her back,” I said.

“High res cam?” she asked.

“Please, Michelle,” I said. “You know me and my computer equipment.”

She laughed. “Sorry. That was a stupid question, wasn’t it? Well, try to get a picture of the bruise.
Get her as close as you can, so it’s as detailed as possible.”

She fell silent again for a few heartbeats. When she did speak, I was more surprised than I let on. “And Meagan?”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe you and I should go and pay this guy a visit.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Michelle. If we show up at the house together and start in on him in front of his family, it’ll just piss him off more. Besides, I thought you didn’t want to do anything that you’d have to make official?”

“Who said I’d go in an official capacity? And you’re right, if we humiliate him in front the wife and daughter, he’ll end up taking it out on them.”

“So what then?” I asked. I was unsure how I felt about her getting so deeply involved in this. Michelle and I are friends, and I still like her. Our being lovers just didn’t work out. But this whole “we” thing was making me uncomfortable.

“Give me a day to think about it,” Michelle said. “I’ll dig into this guy and see what I can turn up, like if he has a rap sheet. I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know what I find out. Give me any information you have about him.”

“Hang on.” I dug out the phone book and thumbed through the pages until I found him. “His name is Charles Davidson. The address in the phone book just says McConnell Road, no number.”

“Know how to get there?”

I gave her directions to where the house was located, then added, “His wife’s name is Colleen, the daughter is Sara, no “H.” That’s all I know.”

“That’s a start,” she said. “I’ll see what I can find out about him. I’ll call you tomorrow. And Meagan?”

“Yeah?”

“One way or another, we’ll stop this guy. You’re doing the right thing. For now at least, we’re going to do this without filing any kind of reports or getting Social Services involved. If it ends up that we have to go through the system, fine. But I’d rather avoid that. They’re not nearly as effective as they like to think they are.”

“Thanks, Michelle,” I said. “Talk to you tomorrow.”

“No problem, pretty lady,” she said. “Night.”

Pretty lady, I noted as I racked the phone. Great. I don’t need any terms of endearment. I don’t want to be obligated to Michelle for anything. Then I thought about that bruise on little Sara’s back.

Sometimes, the cost doesn’t matter. You just have to fix something, no matter what the price is. This needed to be fixed.

I turned off the light in the office and returned to the bedroom. Easing myself into bed, not wanting to awaken the girls, I found a place where I could lay in reasonable comfort. The two of them were sprawled out, taking up a good section of the bed. Thankfully, my bed is rather on the large side.

I awoke at one point to find myself with two little heat leeches curled up around me, one on either side. I was used to this from Janelle. She tends to cling when we sleep in the same bed, which is a fairly regular occurrence. It wasn’t until tonight that it had taken on a whole new level of meaning for me. Sara was also clinging to me, her head resting against one breast. I think it was the first time I’d ever seen her look truly at peace since I’d met her.

I drifted back to sleep.

Continue on to Chapter 5

By Passing Cloud

With an almost overpowering surge of lust, I started to lick my sister’s cunt.

I took my time.

I began with a long, slow lick along the length of her slit, from her clit to her anus. I inhaled deeply. It smelled and tasted just as I wanted and expected. I knew what a little girl’s pee and bum holes were like and I needed that sense of reality to reinforce in my mind what I was actually doing.

At least that’s what I think I was doing as I look back.

It was a kind of ‘relishing the moment’.

Making it REAL.

I loved the response I got. Kathy released a long sigh of satisfaction as my tongue slid over her skin, then she gasped as it wriggled between her lips and then, “Oh!” she cried in surprise as the tip tickled her clitoris.

I tried to copy what Maria had done to me. I opened my mouth wide and engulfed her entire vulva, sucking her fleshy mound while letting my tongue repeatedly flick her sensitised button.

It wasn’t long before she was moaning in earnest. I noticed the different responses depending on where and how I licked her: the intake of breath when I touched her clitoris, the exhalation and prolonged “oh… oh… oh…” as I caressed the sensitive membranes along the length of her slit and between her lips, the various oohs and aahs as I varied the pressure and speed and intensity of my caresses, the working of my tongue.

My focus shifted slightly. Although I was loving what I was doing, and was to an extent satisfying my own sexual desires, I found my mind becoming slightly detached. I wanted to acquire knowledge, expertise. I wanted to be as proficient as possible for Maria.

I started asking questions.

Raising my face from my sister’s eager vagina, I said, “Tell me how it feels. Tell me where you like it most. Tell me how you want it.”

Exhaling with an extended sigh, her voice trembling, Kathy answered, “Oooh, that’s nice, there,” as I flicked my tongue around her pee-hole. As I trailed it along her labia, dipping into her slit as I went, she whispered, “Mmm that’s lovely.” Then as I paused over her clitoris and took it first between my pursed lips, then started to tickle it with the tip of my tongue, she arched her back groaning, “There, just there, lick it… oooh… not so hard, not so hard… oooh…” I softened the pressure of my tongue. I was still licking quickly — tiny rapid movements, but I was barely making contact. It was the subtlest of touches that I could manage, but it seemed to be working.

Her back remained arched, her head flung back — still tantalisingly muffled by her nightdress — as her arms strained and twisted, her legs remained stretched wide and her breathing got faster and shallower. “Ah… ah… there. Yes, that’s it… that’s it… like that… don’t stop… p-please!”

I rejoiced in her orgasm.

I tried to hold her in position as she came. I kept licking and licking throughout, not wanting to stop. I tried to pin her arms so I could continue, but she was too strong, her convulsions too violent. I had a fleeting thought that next time I would like to tie her down so I could lick her for as long as I wanted. I didn’t realise it then, but that thought would recur and become relevant very soon.

For the moment, though, I had achieved what I had set out to do. I felt ready for Maria. I sat up with an intense feeling of satisfaction and achievement and watched my sister recover.

Kathy lay trembling on her back as she pulled her nightdress down and covered herself up. I felt a twinge of regret as I lost sight of her nakedness. I wanted to tell her — order her — not to cover herself. To let me keep looking at her. I wanted to stay in command. Again, I thought about tying her up. The idea thrilled me. But it would have to wait. Soon, I told myself. Maybe tomorrow night. I instinctively felt that these little erotic encounters with my sister were falling under my control. I would decide what we did, and where and how. It just seemed right to me. Time would tell.

She slowly regained her composure. The trembling subsided and she pulled the covers back up. She looked at me sheepishly. I thought she was going to say something, but she just kept looking at my face. She had a half-smile and she bit her bottom lip as she kept staring at me.

I put my hand on hers and, smiling gently, said, “Was it alright?”

Her smile widened as she nodded silently. She grasped my hand tightly with both of hers then suddenly pulled it under the covers and, widening her smile into a wicked grin, pushed it back between her legs. With both hands she pressed my eager fingers into her vulva. Between her lips. “Put your finger inside,” she urged me.

I was surprised but delighted, and more than willing to comply.

My middle finger easily slipped into her hot wetness as, relishing the feeling, she closed her eyes and opened her mouth in a silent gasp.

She gripped my wrist under the covers, holding my hand in place, so I couldn’t have withdrawn even if I had wanted to.

After a few moments she opened her eyes and, still holding my arm firmly, said, “God. That was great! Your tongue feels a lot different to your hand… your hand is nice as well, though…” and she fell back, squirming into her pillow as she released her grip and I began to move my finger around inside her.

It amused me to watch my sister slowly writhing as I fingered her. I watched the changing expressions on her face, listened to the range of sounds coming from her mouth. She was obviously loving it.

But I wanted to be in charge, and at the moment that wasn’t happening.

I abruptly pulled my finger out and withdrew my hand from under the covers.

“Don’t stop!” she pleaded. “Please?”

“I’ll do it again tomorrow,” I told her. I was surprised at how firm I sounded. “I’m tired now.”

She looked disappointed and pushed her bottom lip out in a display of sulky petulance.

Ignoring her, I bent over and put my mouth close to her ear. I whispered conspiratorially, “I was talking to Maria after,” I lied. Again. Twice in two days. It was becoming a habit. Lying to my sister for my own gratification. I felt a wicked little thrill inside. I was being bad. Naughty. I liked the feeling.

“She told me a secret.”

I paused.

I could hear the bedside clock ticking.

“What?” Kathy hissed. There was urgency in her voice. “What did she tell you?”

I paused again. Thinking.

“She told me she was playing with her cousin, and part of the game was to be tied up and tickled,” the lie continued. “She said it feels even better if you can’t move. She said her cousin did it to her when she was tied up and she couldn’t stop her, and it felt great.”

I stopped there, having planted the seed, and slid into my own bed. My mind was still working. Somehow, I had to broach this with Maria. I had to get to her first. Plots and plans were forming in my mind. I found myself enjoying the intrigue.

“I didn’t know she had a cousin,” muttered Kathy as I snuggled beneath the bedclothes. “She didn’t tell me.”

*****

The next day was a glorious, sunny day. It was already hot under a clear blue sky as I skipped to school. Kathy didn’t even try to keep up. She seemed a little sullen and preoccupied and content to make her own way while I went on ahead.

In class, I spent the morning in reverie, wondering how I could get alone with Maria. A number of different scenarios ran through my mind – none of which were completely satisfactory.

Then, suddenly it seemed, it was mid-day.

I ran from class to our usual meeting place. Maria and the others were just arriving. I skipped the last few yards as Maria’s face lit up at the sight of me.

“Here she is,” she acknowledged me with a beautiful smile, “my little girlfriend.”

She casually threw her arm around my shoulders and led me along a path into the school park area. The school had extensive grounds with large grassed areas for sports fields and a number of small wooded areas as well as ancillary buildings.

We were a little way ahead of the others as she called to them over her shoulder, “I’m taking Sis on a walk. We’ll see you back here later.”

My little heart was aflutter. The fates were smiling upon me. I was alone with my Maria.

She smiled down at me. “I thought it would be good if it was just us,” she said.

I was incapable of speech. I beamed back at her.

We passed a host of other girls in various groups, sitting or lying on the grass. They paid us no attention, wrapped up in their own little worlds, enjoying the sunshine.

We wandered into a small group of trees, into the shade.

As we moved out of sight behind the bole of a large oak, Maria pulled me to a halt. There was no-one around, although we could hear the distant chatter of the groups of girls on the grass, out in the open.

There was an urgency in Maria’s voice as she pinned me against the tree and hissed in my ear, “Do you want it? Do you want to do it now?”

She knew the answer even as I nodded my agreement. She instantly dropped to a crouch as her hands lifted my skirt.

“Hold it up,” she instructed, her voice trembling, “while I take these down.”

I did as I was told. I held my little skirt up and leaned back against the tree trunk. My heart was beating wildly. I was excited, breathless, but also nervous. I quickly looked left, then right, anxious that we might be seen, but the coast was clear. I could relax.

Maria wasted no time peeling my pants down my legs. She pulled them down to my ankles, then took them off and laid them on the grass.

I felt the soft breeze against my bare thighs. Then I felt Maria’s warm breath as she murmured, “I love your beautiful little cunt,” and her hot tongue slid between my thighs and instantly started worming its way into my eager slit.

I opened my legs for her and she moaned her appreciation.

“Mmmm… Sis… oooohh, yes…”

Again, it felt wonderful. She used her tongue relentlessly, seeking out my little clitoris and licking, licking it. Her fingers traced delicate patterns across my thighs, front and back. She squeezed my buttocks, tickled the crease between them, probed deeper until she found my anus and caressed me there.

The cumulative effect was to transport me rapidly into ecstasy — the thrill of being exposed like this, the love and adoration I felt for this girl, the incredible pleasure that was centred between my legs and spreading throughout my entire body. I pushed my hips out as my orgasm built, I felt her tongue probe deeper into my slit, I pushed my mound against her teeth. I wanted her to bite me, hurt me, do anything — everything.

It was wonderful, fantastic. I came shuddering and trembling to orgasm. I couldn’t help crying her name. Maria. I couldn’t help telling her I loved her. “Maria. I love you. I love you…”

She stood and held my face in her hands. I was crying, I don’t why other than my being almost overwhelmed with ecstasy, with joy, with needing… needing to express my love.

She kissed me — kissed my forehead, my lips, my cheeks. She kissed away my tears.

“What, Sis? What’s the matter? Why are you crying?”

I looked up into her deep, brown, caring eyes. “I wanted to do it to you,” I sobbed “I wanted you to feel it.”

Her smile told me everything I needed to know. This time it was her looking around to see if anyone was nearby — but again, the coast was clear.

We hurriedly changed positions and while I put my pants back on, she pulled hers down, leaned against the tree and lifted her skirt. Spreading her legs she said, “There you are, Sis. Do what you want.”

I couldn’t believe it. I was so excited.

I dropped to a crouch so my face was level with her pubis. I stared at her cunt. It seemed the most beautiful and arousing thing I could ever imagine.

I put my face closer. I loved that she had hair there. It made her seem so much more mature, so much more sensual. I moved closer. I wondered if she would smell or taste like my sister. I hoped she would be different. I wondered if she would smell of pee — or more. I’m sure I wanted her to, wanted her to be dirty, so that I could clean her with my mouth.

Then I felt her hand touch the back of my head, gently pushing my face, my mouth, towards her sex. I realised she wasn’t just being nice, she actually wanted this herself. She wanted me to do this to her. She wanted me. I felt elated, joyous, proud. I put out my tongue and gloried in the feel of her pubic hair on the tip. Then, almost fainting with happiness, I pushed it into her slit.

It was wonderful.

Then, as I licked and sucked her and swallowed her juices, she began to talk to me – her voice trembling with passion – and that aroused me even more.

“Kathy told me what you did last night.”

I paused momentarily, afraid of what she might say next.

“No. Don’t stop. It feels fantastic.”

I carried on licking her.

“She told me what you said about my cousin… oh, God that feels, feels so… ooh…. she told me… ooh… what you said… about being tied up… aaah… ”

I pushed my tongue into her as far as I could, enveloped her clitoris with my lips. I kissed and sucked it, wanting this to be glorious for her.

“Aah… aah… I want you to tie Kathy up… I didn’t say anything, didn’t tell her I don’t have a girl cousin… I… aah… aah… oh, Sis, do it to her, do it… oooh don’t, don’t stop… ”

Afterwards, when she had put her pants back on and we were strolling back to the others after she had composed herself, she said, “God, Sis. That was fantastic. You can do that whenever you want.” I grinned, glowing with pride. “And if you want, after tonight, when you’ve done Kathy, you can do the same to me.”

“What?” I honestly didn’t understand.

“Tie me up and do it… if you want to…”

Continue on to Chapter 6

By Muffi

What the hell was I going to do?

I had no choice in this. I had promised that I’d call Sara’s mother and ask if she could spend the night here with Janelle and I. I had also promised Janelle that even if Sara couldn’t come, she could still come and spend the night with me.

Rock and a hard place? You’d better believe it.

For the first time I could remember, I didn’t trust myself. That’s a scary feeling, particularly when you don’t trust yourself because of some newly realized feelings about a little girl who spends a great deal of time in your presence.

I couldn’t face this right now. I needed to call Sara’s mother, and then I needed to pick up either both of the girls, or Janelle. I couldn’t, and I wouldn’t, break a promise to Janelle. I would have to put on a brave face, and prepare myself to spend the day and night with at least one, possibly two little girls. If I needed to suppress my feelings, I could do that. I’d face those feelings, try to sort them out and decipher just what the hell they meant tomorrow, when I was alone.

From their terrariums, Ellie and Nellie still seemed to be accusing me with their eyes.

When you can anthropomorphize two snakes to the point where you think they’re not only aware of your thoughts, but taking the time to make their own opinion of you known, you’re suffering from some major guilt.

Oh, yeah. Guilt. I was awash in guilt and shame over these newly discovered feelings.

I took a deep sip of my now cooling coffee, then went to my office. I looked up the Davidson’s phone number again, picked up the phone, and dialed. A gruff male voice answered.

“H’lo?”

“Hello,” I said, as pleasantly as I could. “Could I speak to Colleen, please?”

“Who the hell is this?” came the response.

Okay, then. Nice phone manners. I truly hoped that he wouldn’t piss me off. I wasn’t in the mood to be pissed off. Particularly by a male. Be nice, Meagan, I admonished myself.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I chirped. “My name is Meagan Bristol. My niece, Janelle, is a friend of Sara’s. Sara came to Janelle’s birthday party yesterday. I’m the one who brought Sara home. I just wanted to talk to Sara’s Mom for a…”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” growled the voice, cutting me off in mid-sentence. “I don’t need yer life story, fer Chrissake. A name’ll do. What’d ya say it was?”

“Meagan Bristol,” I said, fighting to control my temper.

“Wait a minute,” he snapped. The phone thunked down on a table or a desk or something. Maybe the floor, for all I knew.

Well, fuck you very much, too, I thought. Asshole…

I heard him bellowing distantly. “Colleen!! Get in here! There’s some woman named Bristol, wants you on the phone.”

I grated my teeth for a moment, then tried to calm myself when I heard someone fumbling with the phone. Colleen Davidson’s timid voice came into my ear.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Colleen,” I said. “It’s Meagan Bristol, Janelle’s aunt. I’m sorry to call so early.”

“Oh, that’s all right,” she said. “I’ve been up for a while.”

“Oh, good,” I said. “The reason I’m calling is, on our way to bring Sara home yesterday, I kind of invited both girls to come to my house for a sleepover. Janelle would love it if Sara can come. They’d spend the afternoon and evening with me, we can have a girl’s pizza party, they’ll spend the night, and I can take them both to school tomorrow. Would that be okay? I know it’s kind of short notice, and I apologize. But Janelle would love it if Sara could come.”

“Uhmm… Well, I suppose that’s okay,” she said. “What time would you need her there?”

“Oh, don’t worry about getting her here. I’m picking Janelle up at about ten this morning, and we can head from there right out to your place and pick her up.”

“Oh, well, sure. That will be fine then.” She sounded relieved that I’d pick Sara up.

“Oh, thank you!” I said. “Janelle will be thrilled. She really likes Sara.” I did some quick mental calculations. “Let’s plan on Janelle and I being there to pick Sara up at about ten-thirty? Will that be okay?”

“That’s fine,” she said listlessly.

“Perfect!” I said. “Tell Sara to be sure to bring pajamas or a nightgown, and some clothes for school tomorrow. Her school books, too. We’ll be going straight from my house to school in the morning.”

“Okay. Thank you,” she said.

“Thank you, Colleen,” I said. “Janelle really does like Sara. I think they’re going to be good friends.”

“That would be nice,” she answered wistfully. “Sara doesn’t have too many friends. None, really.”

“Oh, yes she does,” I said. “She has at least one. Janelle.”

She almost laughed, I think. Then it was gone. “Okay, then,” she said. “Sara will be ready at about ten-thirty. We’ll watch for you.”

“That’s great,” I said. “I’ll see you in a little while. ‘Bye, now.”

“Goodbye,” she said.

I hung up, then dialed Kate’s house. Janelle answered. I heard her shouting as she picked up the phone. “It’s Aunt Meagan,” she shrieked out. “I got it!” Then back to me, voice as sweet as cherry coke, “Hi, Aunt Meagan.”

“Hiya, sweetie,” I said. “How’re you this morning?”

“I’m good!” she chirped.

“Well, then,” I said, “I just got off the phone with Sara’s mom, and as soon as I pick you up, we’re going to go and pick Sara up, too. After that, it’s Girl Power for the rest of the day, and a sleepover at my house tonight.”

“Awesome!! What time are you picking me up?”

“I’ll be there at about ten o’clock. Are you all packed already?”

“Yup! I have my pajamas and school clothes ready, and I have my schoolbooks, too. I have three backpacks of stuff!”

I rolled my eyes. Janelle may be mostly tomboy, but when it comes to packing for an outing, she’s all female. She packs enough to go on a one night sleepover to last most people a week. I laughed.

“Okay, then, Sweetie,” I said. “I’m going to get showered and dressed, and then I’ll be on my way. Let your mom and dad know, okay?”

“I will. See ya in a while, Aunt Meagan. ‘Bye!”

I was smiling when I hung up the phone. To my horror, I was also feeling aroused at knowing she’d be with me for the day, and overnight. Not all out horny, but definitely aroused.

“Fuck me,” I muttered.

Scratch that. The last thing I needed to be thinking about right now was being fucked. That just wouldn’t do at all.

I went into the living room, picked up my now ice cold coffee, and glanced at the two terrariums again.

“Stop looking at me like that, will you please?” I muttered to Ellie and Nellie. “I promise, I’ll be good.”

They looked as though they didn’t believe me. Smart snakes. I wasn’t sure if I believed me, either.

My shower was an exercise in futility. What? Oh, no, I got clean. But it was interesting, to say the least. And frightening. I didn’t want to masturbate. Well, okay, let me rephrase that. I was afraid to masturbate, because I didn’t want to know where my thoughts might go if I did. I got ready for my shower quickly, and decided that I’d avoid using my hands on myself. I have this wonderful natural loofah scrubber on a long wooden handle. It’s an absolute necessity for exfoliating. Anyway, I thought that if I used just the loofah, and didn’t use my hands anywhere on my body, I might make it out of the shower without masturbating.

Yeah, yeah. I know it was stupid, but I was grasping at straws. You’ve never grasped at straws before?

Anyway, I got into the shower with the best of intentions. I soaked down the loofah, squirted body wash over it, and began to scrub.

Once again, so much for good intentions.

If you’re a female, and you’ve never had the experience of using a loofah to masturbate in the shower, I’m here to give you my official endorsement. You have to be careful, because they can be kind of rough, but it’s worth the risk.

As soon as the damned thing scraped across my nipples, I knew I’d lost the battle. Okay, so it wasn’t really a battle, it was more of a small skirmish. No? All right then, I’d already raised the white flag before the enemy even came into sight.

I pulled the loofah away from my nipples, and scrubbed down my back, then my arms, then my belly, then my legs and my still rather nicely shaped butt. Unfortunately, I’m not the kind of person who can leave unwashed body parts. The loofah was going to have to go between my legs eventually.

Might as well get it over with, I thought.

I parted my legs, and brought the loofah down across my mons, intending to be quick about this. Yeah, right. The best laid plans, and all that.

I gasped as the rough loofah scraped over the sensitive skin of my pussy. God, that’s good! I thought. Yeppers, it sure was. Too good. That thing wasn’t going to leave my genitals until I’d come. I knew it. You know it. What can I say?

I tried. I mean, I really, really tried. I conjured up images of a past girlfriend whom I’d been particularly in lust with almost constantly. I created a fictional woman in my mind, complete with enormous breasts and a thick dark thatch of pubic hair. For some reason, I thought the breasts and the pubic hair seemed important today.

They may have been important, but they failed utterly. In the back of my mind, I heard Janelle’s voice. “I love you, Aunt Meagan…”

My labia parted as if they had a mind of their own. The loofah scraped over my clit, and I shuddered, moaning loudly. It wasn’t a wordless moan, either.

“Oh, Janelle, baby…”

I had to grab the handle of the shower door to stay on my feet as the orgasm hit. I shuddered hard, feeling a warm gush of fluid run down my legs from my pussy. I clamped my legs together, locking the loofah in place, rocking it slightly as I ground myself into it. A second wave hit me.

“I love you, Aunt Meagan. Do it, please… Do it for me, Aunt Meagan…”

As the waves subsided, I pulled the loofah from between my legs, panting heavily. Meagan Bristol, you are truly one sick, fucked up slut, I thought disgustedly.

Muttering to myself, calling myself some very choice names, I got out of the shower and dried off quickly. I moisturized, brushed out my hair, decided to forgo the makeup, and went to get dressed.

Let’s see. Jeans, or jeans? Uhm… jeans, I think. I pulled on a pair of panties, followed them up with some old and comfy jeans, and pulled a red tee-shirt over my head. I skipped the bra, since it was just me and the two kids today. My decision to go braless had nothing to do with the fact that Janelle would be able to see my nipples poking through the material of the shirt. Honest. It didn’t.

I shoved my feet into a pair of old sneakers, and I was pretty much ready to go. I looked at the clock. It was nine-thirty. I still had a few minutes before I had to leave. I did my daily shutdown and reboot of the computer, checked my email, and then went and filled my huge travel mug with coffee before grabbing the car keys.

As I passed through the living room, Ellie and Nellie were looking at me as if to say, We know what you did. And we know what you were thinking when you did it.

“Come on, you two,” I said. “Knock it off, please? I’m really trying here.”

The look on their faces seemed to call me a liar.

Let me explain something about snakes. They care very little for what’s going on around them, unless they feel threatened or hungry. If you have a snake that was raised in captivity, it’s accustomed to humans. If your snake thinks about you at all, it most likely considers you to be some sort of a strange tree or something. In other words, they really aren’t emotional creatures. They’re nothing like a cat or a dog in that sense.

Today, though, I was seriously considering writing a paper on the topic of the emotional response of snakes to twisted, sick individuals they come into contact with. Ellie and Nellie were still regarding me with looks of stark accusation.

“Okay, here’s the plan,” I said to them. “Janelle and Sara will be here for the rest of the day and overnight. You two can keep an eye on things, and make sure that I don’t get out of line. Deal?”

Don’t even think about it, they seemed to be saying. We’ve got our eyes on you.

Good. That was taken care of. The snakes would be guarding Janelle. I felt better.

Have I mentioned to you that I’m a strange person? No? Well, I am.

I locked up the house, backed the Chevy out of the garage, and headed to my sister’s house to pick up Janelle. Kate met me at the door, grinning.

“I hope you’re ready for this,” she said. “She’s hyperactive this morning.”

I hope I’m ready for it, too, I thought. I didn’t say it, though. I would have had to explain myself. I wasn’t ready for that.

“She’ll be fine,” I said. “I love having her over, you know that.”

“And she loves visiting you,” she replied.

Suddenly, Janelle came bouncing through the door, one backpack slung over her shoulder, lugging two more in her hands. She was wearing cut-off denim shorts that showed off almost all of her legs. I mean, these were short-shorts. Above it, she wore a little midriff pullover top that left her belly exposed. White sneakers and ankle socks completed the outfit.

God help me, I thought.

“Hi, Aunt Meagan!”

“Hi, Sweetie! You need some help with those?”

She grinned, nodding. I took one of the backpacks from her hands.

“Give me a kiss goodbye, Honey,” said Kate. Janelle turned her face up to her mother, who stooped to smack her on the lips. “I’ll pick you up at Aunt Meagan’s after work tomorrow, okay? You have fun. Oh! Did you close your bedroom door? I don’t want to have to see that creature.”

Kate shot me a look. I blinked my innocence.

Janelle rolled her eyes, grabbing my hand. “Yes, Mom, I closed my bedroom door,” she said sarcastically.

I smirked at Kate. She stuck her tongue out at me.

“Bye, Honey. See you tomorrow,” Kate called as Janelle dragged me my Chevy.

“Bye, Mom. Love you!”

“I love you too,” Kate yelled.

I opened the rear hatch so we could stow Janelle’s backpacks. She got into the front seat with me for the trip to Sara’s house. The whole way there, I was acutely aware of her slender little thighs on the seat next to mine.

Stop it, Meagan. Ellie and Nellie will kill you and eat you.

“I hope Sara likes pizza,” Janelle said.

“Who doesn’t like pizza?” I replied.

“Ellie and Nellie?”

I laughed, and Janelle gave me one of her signature smiles. I melted inside. It was going to be a very long day and night.

When we pulled into the Davidson’s driveway, the door opened, and little Sara stepped onto the porch with a backpack on her shoulders, carrying a rather oversized duffel bag. The duffel bag was bigger than her. My god, I thought, she’s as bad as Janelle! Her outfit was a close match for Janelle’s; tight, very short shorts, sneakers, and a tank top. I suddenly found myself looking at her a bit differently.

Jesus fucking-A Christ, Meagan! Knock it off!

Colleen Davidson was standing in the doorway, watching Sara head down the steps. I had a sudden thought, grabbed my purse, got out, and went up on the porch. “Hi, Colleen,” I said. “How are you?”

“Fine, thank you,” she said with a wan smile.

“I’m going to give you my address and phone number,” I said, “just in case something comes up and you need to get in touch, or if you just want to check on Sara.”

Colleen nodded listlessly. I wrote the information down on a slip of paper and handed it to her. Over her shoulder, I could see a man I assumed to be the Davidson patriarch sitting in a recliner in the living room, watching television. There was a half empty bottle of vodka on the table next to him, the cap off, a glass about a third full of clear liquid next to it. He was wearing old jeans and a greyish, badly stained wife-beater tee-shirt. The wife-beater seemed to fit his personality.

Geez! It wasn’t even quite ten-thirty in the morning yet, and he was already into the vodka. How attractive is that?

Janelle had gotten out and was helping Sara carry her things to the Chevy. They stuffed everything in the back with Janelle’s things, and then climbed into the back seat. I saw them buckling their seatbelts. I turned back to Colleen. “Well, then,” I said, “I’ll drop Sara off at school with Janelle in the morning. And don’t worry, she’s in safe hands for the night.” I sincerely hoped that was a truthful statement.

Colleen gave me that ghost of a smile again, and nodded. “That’s fine, then,” she said. “Could you try to make sure she remembers to bring everything with her when she leaves? Sometimes she forgets things.”

I laughed. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure everything is packed back up before they leave in the morning.”

“Thank you again,” she said. “It’s nice to see Sara finally making friends with someone.”

“I’m just the go-between,” I said. “Janelle is the one making friends with her.”

She smiled back, a genuine smile this time, I think. “Sara really likes her, too,” she said.

“Good! Let’s hope they become the best of friends.”

“Have fun with them,” she said. “Tell Sara her father will be here when she gets home from school tomorrow.”

“I will,” I said. “Bye, now.”

“Goodbye.” She moved back a step, and the door closed slowly.

There was no way I was going to remind Sara that her asshole dad was going to be waiting for her. I was certain that she was already more than aware of that fact.

I got into the Chevy and started the engine. The two girls were chattering away in the backseat. Sara was very animated today. But then, Janelle has that effect. You can’t help but be excited when she’s around.

I glanced in the rear view. “Okay, sistahs!” I exclaimed. “What’s the plan for today?”

The two heads came together for a moment, then I heard a loud cry, in unison. “PIZZA!”

I snorted. “That’s it? Pizza? That’s your grand plan for the day?”

Janelle shrugged. “Oh… we’ll figure it out, Aunt Meagan. Do you think it would be okay if Sara can hold Ellie and Nellie for a minute?”

“If she wants to, sure. They haven’t been fed recently, so they’ll be fine with being held.”

Snakes don’t appreciate being handled when they’ve recently been fed. It takes them a while to digest their food, and being held is uncomfortable for them when they’ve just had a snack.

Sara’s mouth formed a little O shape. “You really mean it?” she piped. “You’d let me hold them?”

“Of course, as long as you’re careful. Janelle handles them a lot.”

Her face lit up. “Oh, cool!”

“Wait’ll you see ’em, Sara,” said Janelle. “They’re way bigger than my snake is. Aunt Meagan’s had ’em for a long time, and they’re pretty big. They’re so pretty, too.”

Sara giggled. “My Mom would faint if she ever saw me holdin’ a snake.”

“Sweetie, a lot of people feel that way. Janelle’s Mom is having a hard time with her snake being in the house right now, too.”

“Why are people so scared of them?” she asked.

I looked in the rear view again. “Janelle, you want to explain that to Sara?”

Janelle nodded. “People are scared of ’em cause they don’t understand ’em. Most snakes aren’t poison, but lots of people think they all are. ‘An snakes that you get as pets were never wild snakes, they were born to be pets. If people would just give ’em a chance, they wouldn’t be such scaredy-cats.”

I was smiling in the front seat as I listened to Janelle’s explanation. Pretty well reasoned, especially for a nine-year-old.

“I used to be scared to death of ’em,” she continued. “But Aunt Meagan taught me stuff, and now I really love her two snakes, and mine, too!”

Sara was listening in rapt attention as the “expert” expounded further. “Wild snakes are good to have around, too, ‘cos they eat mice and rats and bugs and stuff. Pet snakes don’t do that, at least not if ya keep ’em in a terrarium. I guess if ya let ’em free in your house they would. But I don’t think my mom would like that very much.”

By now we were pulling into my driveway. I drove into the garage, and the girls flew out of the Chevy, dashed around to the back and began digging out their belongings. I unlocked the door, and we all stomped into my kitchen. Four backpacks and an oversized duffel bag wound up in the middle of the floor. Janelle was dragging Sara through the room by one hand.

“C’mon, Sara, you gotta see Ellie and Nellie!”

I shook my head, smiling, and followed them to the living room.

Ellie and Nellie stared at me. Have you been behaving yourself, Meagan? they seemed to be asking.

Bite me, I thought.

We don’t bite, you know that. But we could choke the life out of you.

Guilt-ridden? Me? Please…

Sara was cooing softly as she took in my two snakes. I’ve had Ellie for almost twelve years, Nellie for about ten. They’re both fully mature snakes, which means that their growth has slowed significantly. They’re both about seven feet long, and weigh about sixty pounds. When Janelle handles them, she’s always sitting on the floor. They’re too heavy for her to pick them up and carry around.

Sara looked up at me as I entered the room. “They’re huge!” she exclaimed.

“Yeah, they’re fully grown,” I said. “Do you like them?”

She nodded vigorously. “They’re awesome!”

“Later on, I’ll take them out and you can handle them,” I said. “If you want to, that is.”

“Oh, yeah!” Sara replied. “That’d be cool!”

“Okay, you two. What are we doing tonight?” I asked. “I mean, Janelle, what do you want to do for sleeping arrangements? Do you and Sara want the guest room? Or do you want to camp out on the floor in here tonight?”

“Aren’t you gonna sleep with us, Aunt Meagan?” she asked. “It’s a sleep-over party, ya know. We should all sleep together.”

I was afraid of that. Damage control? Yeah, right. Good luck.

“Okay,” I said, “then where do you want us to sleep? On the floor in the living room, or where?”

“Can’t we all just sleep in your bed?” She turned to Sara. “She has the biggest you’ve ever seen in your life!”

Great. So much for damage control.

I could feel Ellie and Nellie’s gaze, burning into my back. We’re watching you…

I forced a smile. “Okay then, my room it is Let’s get your things upstairs, and then we can figure out what we’re doing for the rest of the day.”

Continue on to Chapter 4

By Passing Cloud

I stared at Maria’s lovely face as she played with me. I was gently swaying to this sensual rhythm, floating in pleasure, loving her more and more with each caress, when she leaned forward and whispered the question, “Have you ever been tongued?”

Her meaning didn’t register at first. I was in a half-dream state with the edge of ecstasy creeping towards me.

As her words sank in, a picture formed in my mind. It was a picture that thrilled but horrified me. Did my lovely Maria actually want to lick me… there? My childish awareness of bodily functions and sexuality hadn’t yet made any sort of erotic link. Surely it was ‘dirty’? All this flashed through my immature mind and I, discomfited, shook my head silently.

Smiling, and still gently rubbing, Maria whispered, “Well, we’d better try it then…”

She motioned to the others to come and help her and then, together, they lifted me bodily off the low table, carried me over to a chest of drawers and sat me atop it. I was totally passive and compliant in their hands. It just seemed so natural for me at that moment.

They carefully pushed me backwards so that I was lying down, then, guided by Maria, they lifted my legs high and wide and held me, gently but firmly, in place. Kathy had one leg, Nancy the other. Jude, crouching, stretched my little lips apart. It hurt a little. Maria dragged her chair over and sat facing me. Her head was level with my sex.

Lying on my back, held in position, I stared vacantly upwards. I can’t remember what I looked at. My mind was turned inwards. My awareness was all about what I was feeling. I felt helpless; I felt vulnerable, I felt that I was giving of myself — a kind of loving generosity to my darling Maria, and then to her acolytes. I felt strangely humbled by the attention. I felt Maria’s breath between my legs as she spoke.

“That’s right, Jude. Hold her open.”

I felt the others shift their position as they bent to look at me, exposed like that.

Kathy spoke. Gleefully she said, “I can see everything you’ve got, Sis. Everything!”

Somehow that simple statement really aroused me. I began to feel wanton — insofar as I interpreted the feeling. I tried to expose myself even more. I pushed my legs further apart so Nancy and my sister had to adjust their positions. I lifted my hips, tried to push my cunt out. I wanted to be touched, felt, penetrated, violated, anything! Suddenly trembling with urgency, I hissed, “Do it then. Do it!”

I heard Maria softly sigh, then felt her breath getting warmer and warmer, and then, as she whispered “Ohh… lovely,” I felt her lips brush against my clitoris.

I gasped. I groaned. I felt a sense of shock, of surprise. That briefest of touches: so soft, so gentle, so, so wonderful.

And then, and then — my God.

She started to lick me.

Her hot, wet tongue slipped into my slit and caressed those sensitive membranes with concentrated, deliberate purpose.

It felt utterly, utterly incredible.

Within seconds, it seems, I began to cry out, to moan.

“Aaah! Aaah! Aaah!” On and on.

I remember hearing myself, but I could do nothing about it.

Maria herself moaned and murmured as she did me.

With each long, slow, lascivious lick she whispered her pleasure. “Mmmm… beautiful… ooooh… gorgeous… mmmm…”

I floated away to where everything was pleasure, was ecstasy.

I felt her breath, her lips, and her tongue — especially her tongue. Licking me, probing me, penetrating me.

So dirty, so filthy in my mind. So, so sexy.

Her lips pursed around my clitoris, the tip of her tongue now tickling that desperate little point with tiny rapid movements.

Fast she licked it, then faster and faster.

I felt it coming. That feeling. Like before, it rushed upon me and swept me away. Stronger than the first.

I screamed. I cried out loud. I cried. I screamed her name. I screamed that I loved her. I screamed that I loved it! That feeling.

That strange, powerful, wonderful feeling.

My body arched strongly. I thrashed, I struggled, I writhed desperately as I came. The orgasm surged through me. Somehow the others held me in place. At one point I opened my eyes, wildly staring. I saw Nancy staring back at me. She was flushed, panting, she was gripping my leg. Stretching me wide.

And she was smiling.

I had to close my eyes again as another surge of orgasmic ecstasy shuddered through me, then another and another.

Maria was still licking me. She kept on doing it, but more gently… then gentler still.

Then Jude released her grip on my stretched labia and Maria instantly enveloped them — enveloped my whole vulva with her lips. She tenderly sucked it into her mouth. I heard her sucking and swallowing my juices, mingled with her saliva. She moaned again. “Mmmm.”

She moaned, I moaned.

Slowly the feelings subsided into that beautiful warm glow and Maria (I believe) reluctantly withdrew. The others helped me up and off the chest. They helped me dress. We didn’t say a word until we were about to leave the building.

Maria put her arm around my shoulders. She stroked my hair. I looked up at her. As she smiled down at me, I felt complete adoration. I felt so warm and so grateful, I knew that I would do anything for her. Anything she told me. I wanted her to take me. Make me hers. Make me her pet. Do anything she liked to me. I gazed at her beautiful face with love and longing.

All she said was, “How was it?”

It was enough. I had recovered enough composure to reply, smiling.

“Fantastic. It was fantastic.”

Then, as the others slipped out through the door into the sunlight, and Maria and I paused on the threshold, she leaned closer and whispered conspiratorially into my ear, her lips brushing my hair, “Good. We’ll do it more then. A lot more if you want. And you can do it to me, too.”

*****

As I stepped, blinking, into the bright light of the day I felt joyous.

I skipped to my lessons but didn’t learn a thing. I skipped home but didn’t speak to my sister. My mind was very much elsewhere — in a constant flight of fancy as I dreamed and dreamed of Maria. Fantasies overwhelmed me. I pictured a never-ending variety of scenes, vignettes where Maria and I indulged our desires.

I imagined that she loved me, adored me as much as I adored her. She held me in her arms and kissed me on the mouth, kissed me passionately like an actress on television being kissed by the hero. I pictured her whispering loving words in my ear as she undressed me, and then I would display myself to her — naked, exposed, supplicant in every way. “Maria, Maria, I’m yours. Do what you want to me.”

This prolonged sexual reverie had distracted me for hours, and now I lay awake in my bed idly stroking myself, my tiny fingers tracing delicately along the line of my labia. My sister was in the neighbouring bathroom. I was listening intently to her, counting through the stages of her toilet. Waiting eagerly for her to come into the room. To get into bed.

I heard Kathy on the toilet, heard the trickle of her urine and tried to visualise it. I imagined my face very close to her vagina — as if I was kneeling in front of the toilet bowl, watching her pee. Just inches away.

The thought aroused me. I thought of what Maria had done to me. I imagined doing the same thing to my elder sister. I suddenly realised that I wanted to do that. That I wanted to get my big sister naked, stripped bare. Then get her to open her legs so I could lick her. I wondered if Kathy would smell, even taste of pee. I wanted to find out.

I heard the toilet flush. A few seconds later, the door opened and Kathy came into the room. I watched her close the door and tiptoe across to her bed. In the half-light I saw she was wearing a nightdress. The same one as last night. I hoped that, like last night, that same nightdress would soon be up around her neck with her naked body laid out for my pleasure.

I waited silently as she got into bed. I saw as she lifted the covers then raised and swivelled her legs into place that she wasn’t wearing anything under her nightdress. My heart began to race in anticipation.

“Are you awake, Sis?” she whispered.

“Yes.”

A long pause. “You know today… with Maria…?”

“Yes…?” my heart was pounding now, my hand furtively feeling.

“Did it… did it feel — you know?”

This time I paused. I thought for a few moments about how to express how I felt. How I felt about Maria. But that wasn’t what I wanted from my sister. I loved Maria. I had a different love for Kathy, and just now I wasn’t interested in that kind of love. Just now, I wanted to be dirty. I wanted to smell my sister’s pee. I wanted to touch her where it was ‘naughty’. I wanted to find out how to do it properly with my tongue. I wanted to use my sister. I wanted to be in control.

So I didn’t reply. Instead, I pulled back the covers and padded across to Kathy’s bed and sat. I looked down at her. She was lying passively on her back, the covers were pulled up to her neck, her hands resting on the outside.

We didn’t speak for a moment, then Kathy reached across and started fiddling with the button on my pyjama trousers. “Why don’t you take these off and get in here with me?” she whispered. I could see her grinning in the faint light.

For a moment, I was unsure what to do. It would have been fun to strip off and get in with her. I would have enjoyed letting her have her way with me, but that wasn’t my plan. I had to take the risk. So I good-humouredly slapped her hand away, saying, “No. Don’t do that. I might take them off for you after. But first I want to do this!”

I abruptly pulled the bedclothes down to the bottom of the bed, revealing her fully to my inspection. Her nightdress was rumpled high above her knees, nearly at her groin, her legs slightly parted. To my delight, she didn’t move. She seemed happy to take the passive role. Like last night, I hoped.

She made as if to speak, but I quickly pressed my finger to my pursed lips and bent over so our faces were nearly touching. “Sssssh,” I insisted. “Don’t say anything.”

Then I reached down and started to pull her nightdress up. Obligingly, Kathy raised her hips.

I pulled it right up to her neck and made a point of reaching underneath, to make sure it was all the way up all the way around.

I told her to raise her arms above her head so I could pull the nightdress higher — part way along her arms.

Without a murmur she let me do it and, in so doing, I completely covered her face at the same time.

I sat back to take a long look at her. Seeing her lying there so compliantly thrilled me. Her body, faceless and completely naked, no longer seemed to be that of my sister. It seemed as if this lovely lithe, smooth young body spread before me was there purely for my indulgence. I was really, really aroused.

I placed my hands on the inside of her thighs and, with just the slightest pressure, she spread her legs wide for me.

I looked her up and down and tried to take in all the details. Her slim hips, her ribs, her belly button, her small pink nipples, her mound, her slit…

I leaned across her and switched on the side light so I could see better. The light cast a golden glow across Kathy’s body, leaving her covered face in shadow. Suddenly she appeared so much more anonymous to me… so much more exciting and enticing.

I put my hands on the inside of her thighs again, higher this time, nearly touching her vaginal lips. I spread her legs even wider and bent over that flat belly so I could see her sex clearly. “Lift a bit,” I instructed, and she duly obliged, lifting her little buttocks off the bed, bringing her cunt closer to my face. I bent closer, then closer still until my lips were touching her belly just above her pubic mound. She flinched at the contact; murmured, “Oh,” but didn’t move. I knew she would be able to feel my breath against her skin. I hoped she was as aroused as I was. I hoped she wanted the same thing as me.

I moved my hands to her buttocks and spread them apart so I could look at her anus. I was entranced again by that tight little hole. I moved my hand so I could touch it – lightly – with my fingertip.

Again she murmured, “Oh,” with an intake of breath.

I put my face even closer. Sniffed her. I wanted her to smell of pee. Of the toilet. I wanted this to be dirty, rude, forbidden.

There was just the slightest scent of urine, but it was enough. It strangely satisfied my need and somehow justified my wanton lewdness. It is difficult to explain, but I felt somehow vindicated in my desires – that what I did now would be the right thing to do.

I bent my head even lower and extended my tongue. With an almost overpowering surge of lust, I started to lick my sister’s cunt.

Continue on to Chapter 5

By Muffi

I woke the next morning feeling deliciously lethargic and lazy. I knew that I had to motivate myself to get moving and go help with Janelle’s party, but I stayed under the warm covers for as long as I could. I wondered vaguely why my purple vibrator was lying next to me on the bed, and then remembered that I had drifted off to sleep quickly the night before, following an almost unbelievably intense orgasm. I hadn’t had the energy to even put the toy away.

For the record, before I got myself out of bed, I did take a little time to make an attempt at repeating the pleasure of the night before. I won’t bother to describe it, I’m sure you aren’t interested in a repeat of that so soon on the heels of my last description. I will only say that while it was quite pleasurable, it wasn’t nearly as satisfying as the previous night.

Oh, well. As the Rolling Stones said, you can’t always get what you want. I was still feeling something of the afterglow from last night, anyway, so I wasn’t even close to being disappointed. I mean, there really is no such thing as a bad orgasm, right?

Smiling and humming quietly to myself, I padded into the bathroom for a quick shower, brushed my hair and teeth quickly, threw on a hint of makeup, and then went back to my bedroom to get dressed.

I’d decided on a casual look for the day. I knew that most of the little girls who would be showing up would be wearing pretty dresses, but I also knew about playing in the sprinkler. One way or another, the party would end with everyone dressed casually. Besides, I figured that with something like fifteen prepubescent girls in one large gathering, pandemonium reigns supreme — so jeans would be the safest choice.

I pulled on a sheer burgundy thong. Well, you never know. I could meet a bored mom who was looking for a stroll on the wild side, couldn’t I? Okay, admittedly, the possibility was rather remote. The bra that made up the other half of the set was also sheer. It did nothing to hide my prominent nipples, but at least I was sort of following the rules of modesty. It was a bra, right? A barely there bra, true; but a bra nonetheless.

I pulled a thin tank top over my head, black, with rather narrow shoulder straps and a low, scoop cut neckline that was trimmed in black lace. It displayed my cleavage rather nicely, I thought. Finally, I sat on the bed and pulled on my favorite, worn out but immensely comfortable black boots with thick clunky heels. I stood up and surveyed the result in my mirrored walls, satisfied that I looked not only comfy and casual, but marginally respectable as well.

That’s me: Your friendly, admittedly nymphomaniacal, neighborhood lesbian. The epitome of respectable small town womanhood. Yeah, right…

Lock up your womenfolk, fellas. Meagan is flying solo, and her horniness knows no bounds!

Yes, I do think about sex almost constantly. So shoot me.

Janelle’s birthday cake was on a very large wooden cutting board, sitting on my kitchen table. After I had started my coffee brewing, I eyed the dimensions of the cake, then went into the garage to dig out a couple of cardboard boxes. After some skilled surgical work that involved a box cutter and some duct tape, I had an open box that was large enough to place the cake in. It had no top, but I could cover it with aluminum foil. I drive a mid-sized Chevy crossover, so I had plenty of room in the back to set the cake down for the ride.

By the time I had opened the rear hatch of the Chevy, lugged the cake out there and loaded it up, my coffee was ready. I poured a huge mug and snapped the lid on. My travel “mug” holds just over a half pot of coffee. Caffeine addict? Me?

I took a quick sip of rich, hot black coffee, set the mug down, and went to the hall closet to dig out the birthday presents I’d bought for Janelle. I grinned. My sister was going to have a hissy fit. Oh, well. This was about Janelle, not about her mother. Truthfully, I was going to enjoy Kate’s reaction every bit as much as I would Janelle’s.

The largest of the two brightly wrapped packages had to go in back with the cake. That actually worked. I wedged it between the front seats and the edge of the cake box, which help to steady the cake in place. The smaller package went on the front passenger seat. There was a third package, as well, but I needed to wait to load that until I was just ready to leave. It would go in the front seat as well.

I went back inside, picked up my coffee, and went into my office to check my email. My graphics work is almost exclusively computer generated, created for various web applications. I do some work for print media also, but the majority of my work is for cyberspace. Email is my main form of communication with clients and prospective clients. I check it faithfully several times every day.

Nothing pressing. That was a good thing; I wouldn’t spend the day with half of my mind trying to solve any work related issues. I turned off the computer monitor, leaving the machine running. I almost never shut down my computer for any length of time. Just a daily, five minute shutdown to clear the RAM and cache space.

I grabbed my denim jacket and pulled it on, made sure everything was turned off except the computer, checked the doors to be sure they were locked, and grabbed Janelle’s third present. I went into the garage, set the package on the front passenger seat, and started up the vehicle. I punched the garage door opener, and when it was fully raised, I backed out into the driveway. I hit the button to close the garage back up, and headed off to my sister’s house, about a mile and a half away. I turned on the CD player and sang along with Sarah McLachlan, only slightly off key.

It was still several hours until the party. I pulled into Kate and Michael’s driveway just a few minutes before ten o’clock. It was a beautiful, early autumn day, bright and sunny, with the promise of warm temperatures by noon. I parked the Chevy in full sunlight, got out and opened the rear hatch, and unloaded the cake. It was heavy enough that I had to use both hands, so I’d have to come back to close the hatch.

I used my elbow to ring the doorbell, because I couldn’t open the door. My hands were full of birthday cake. My brother-in-law opened the door, grinning at me.

“Hey, Meagan,” he said, “come on in. You need some help with that?”

“Just with the door, thanks,” I replied.

“You got here just in time,” he said, laughing. “Janelle is about to go into meltdown. Kate’s been pretending that she forgot to bake the cake, and telling Janelle not to worry, she’ll get to it soon.”

I shook my head, unable to hide my smile. “My sister, the eternal bitch,” I said.

“You said that, not me,” he grinned.

“I can say it,” I said conspiratorially. “You, she’d probably murder for that.”

“She would indeed,” Michael said. “Slowly, and very painfully.”

His face as he spoke gave lie to his words. Michael loves my sister with everything he’s got. The only other person he loves even near as much as Kate is Janelle.

“You can think it, Michael. I won’t tell, I promise.”

He laughed, showing gleaming white teeth. “Come on,” he said. “That thing must be getting heavy.”

As we walked into the kitchen, Janelle was wailing at her mother. “Mom, come on! You hafta get my cake made!”

“Look who’s here, guys,” said Michael loudly.

Kate and Janelle turned as one and saw me. When Janelle saw the box in my hands, she spun back to her mother, glaring at her with an accusing look. She didn’t say a word. She didn’t have to. She just glared, and that look said it all. Then she spun back to me, all smiles again. “You made my cake, Aunt Meagan? Is it chocolate? Can I see it, please, please, please, please, please?” The words spilled out in a rush.

“Yes, I made your cake, Sweetie. Of course it’s chocolate; do you think I’d make any other kind for you? And no, you may not see it. It’s a surprise. You’ll have to wait until the party.”

Janelle gave me a mock pout that lasted all of about two seconds. Then she was all smiles and giggles again. “Wait’ll you see the outfit Mom got for me to wear today, Aunt Meagan. It’s so awesome!”

“We’re waiting until about noon to put it on her,” said Kate. “We want to minimize the amount of time that she’ll have to get it dirty.”

Janelle blushed. She has a tendency to get dirty pretty quickly sometimes, and she knows it.

“I can’t wait to see it, Sweetie. I’ll be here all day. There’s no rush.”

“You wanna see it now? I can show it to you.”

I shook my head. “Nope. I want to wait to see it when you’re in it. It won’t be half as pretty on a hanger as it will when you’re wearing it.”

She blushed prettily again. I was struck by her innocent beauty. My sister and her hubby make awfully pretty kids, I thought.

The rest of the morning was spent bustling around the house and the deck, decorating and preparing everything for the arrival of a pack of half-wild girl children. There would be a few of the Moms there, as well, which would provide Kate, Michael and myself with some much needed technical support. We were going need all the help we could get.

At about noon, we figured that we were about as ready as we were ever going to be. There were balloons floating in the air everywhere; Michael had rented a tank of helium and bought balloons of every shape, size and color. They bounced lazily against the ceiling inside the house, and they were attached by strings from railings, table legs, anything that you could tie a string to. My major contribution to the party had been a huge banner that I’d designed and had made. It was suspended from the eaves of the house above the deck, a bright pink banner with white lettering, each letter outlined in a different primary color.

HAPPY NINTH BIRTHDAY, JANELLE!!

Janelle had gone upstairs to change into her new outfit. The three of us were standing in the kitchen, taking a break and trying to psyche ourselves up for the impending chaos. Actually, I really was looking forward to this. It was going to be fun.

I turned at the sounds of clunky footsteps coming down the hallway towards the kitchen. Janelle pranced proudly into the kitchen, her eyes locked to mine, grinning from ear to ear. I looked at her, then I glanced at her mother, who was also grinning at me. She was dressed up, alright, but not in what could remotely be thought of as a frilly little girl outfit.

She was wearing an almost perfect duplicate of an outfit that I favor, and that Janelle had more than once labeled as “awesome.” I gulped. She looked adorable! Around her neck was a black velvet choker, with a silver heart suspended from the front. She wore a white, long-sleeved blouse that was heavily ruffled down the front and at the cuffs. Over the blouse, she wore an open, black leather vest with silver buttons. Her pants were also black leather, with an exposed button-fly, again with silver buttons. On her feet, she wore a pair of boots that were identical to the ones I had on, only smaller.

She stood in front of me grinning for a moment, then slowly spun in a circle. When she was facing me again, she looked up at me, still grinning. “Wha’d’ya think?” she asked.

“I think,” I replied, “That except for the fact that you’re much prettier than I am, you look like a miniature Aunt Meagan!”

Janelle beamed at me, then rushed forward and wrapped her arms around my waist, hugging me tightly. I returned the hug, happily.

Kate was still grinning. “She’s been after me for months to let her get an outfit that matches yours,” she said. “She finally wore me down.”

“She’s good at that,” Michael added.

It was a pretty expensive outfit to get for a little girl who would most likely outgrow it within a year. But then, we all tend to indulge Janelle. Kate can’t have any more kids; she’d had to have a hysterectomy following Janelle’s birth. They’d discovered two malignant tumors. She was their only child, and all the more precious to them because there would be no others.

Indulging Janelle never seemed to spoil her, though. She didn’t develop that attitude of just expecting to get whatever she wants. She was truly appreciative of anything that she was given.

When she stepped back away from me, her mother noticed that Janelle had forgotten to brush her hair. It was tousled wildly. “Janelle! Are you going to greet people with your hair looking like that?”

Janelle reached one hand up to her head to touch her hair. Her mouth formed a surprised “O” shape, and she spun around and ran back upstairs to take care of it.

“She really adores you, you know,” said Kate quietly. “Everything is, ‘Aunt Meagan this, Aunt Meagan that.’ She wanted that outfit so badly, so she could look like you.”

It was my turn to blush. “Yeah, well, don’t tell her, but the feeling is mutual. I love her like she’s my own.”

Michael grinned. “No one has to tell her. She knows she has you wrapped around her little finger.”

I glared at him. “You should talk,” I said.

“Yeah, I know,” he said, ducking his head with a sheepish grin. “She’s pretty special, isn’t she?”

“That she is, dear brother-in-law,” I replied. “That she is. You should be proud of her.”

“Trust me,” he said quietly. “I am.”

“Okay, you guys,” said Kate. “This concludes our regular meeting of the Janelle McCarthy Fan Club. We need to focus. It’s going to get insane around here very soon.”

That statement was followed immediately by a hesitant knock at the front door. I glanced at Kate, then headed down the hall to answer the knock. I heard Michael mutter behind me. “Let the games begin.”

I opened the door to find a rather plain, mousy, tired looking woman who was probably in the neighborhood of thirty years old, but looked much older than that. Next to her was a slender little girl with coal black, shoulder length hair and very pale white skin. I smiled at both of them brightly.

“Uhm, is this the right place? For the birthday party, I mean?” the woman asked.

“You got it,” I said, grinning. I looked down at the little girl again. “You must be Sara.” The little girl nodded shyly and smiled.

I looked back at her mother. The woman looked defeated. By what, I couldn’t tell, but there was defeat painted all over her face, and in her posture. I wondered vaguely what had happened to make her this way. “I’m Colleen Davidson,” she said quietly. Her eyes shot to the floor, then back to my face. “Are you Janelle’s aunt?”

“Meagan Bristol,” I said, nodding. “It’s nice to meet you in person.” I extended my hand, and the woman took it, shaking hands with me rather listlessly.

“Sara, Janelle is upstairs fixing her hair,” I said. “You can go on up if you want to.”

Sara was holding a large white envelope, and a rather worn out looking backpack. She looked at her Mom, then smiled shyly again, and walked past me and up the stairs to find Janelle.

I looked back at Colleen Davidson. She met my eyes steadily, but with a wariness that I didn’t quite understand. “Would you like to come in and meet Janelle’s parents?” I asked her.

“Oh, no, thank you,” she said. “I have to get going and get ready for work. Maybe another time.” She paused for a moment. “I’m sorry we couldn’t get Janelle a gift.”

I waved a hand at her. “Stop, please,” I said. “Janelle is thrilled that Sara’s here. I saw the card. She’ll be perfectly happy with that.”

The woman nodded and smiled briefly. At that moment I heard a Janelle give a happy shriek from upstairs, followed by shy laughter that must have been Sara. “I think Sara found Janelle,” I said.

“You’ll take Sara home after the party?” she asked.

“Of course,” I said. “Just give me the address.”

“We’re off of McConnell Road,” she said. “It’s the third right after you turn off Route 5. About two miles. You can’t miss it. Sara will get you there.”

“I know the area,” I said, nodding. “I’ll run her home as soon as everything dies down.” I smiled at her again.

Colleen nodded at me. “Thank you,” she said quietly. She hesitated for a moment. “For everything.”

I wonder what that means, I thought. “Thank you,” I replied, “for letting Sara come. Janelle really wanted her to be here.”

“I need to be going,” she said. “Thank you again.”

“You’re welcome,” I said. “I’ll make sure to tell Sara to call you as soon as she gets home.”

“That’s not necessary,” she said quietly. “My husband will be there.”

“Oh, okay,” I replied. Must be a one vehicle family, I thought.

The woman turned and started to her car. “Goodbye,” I said. “Try to have a good day at work!” No response.

What an odd woman, I thought.

Over the next hour or so, more and more kids showed up. Some came with gifts, some with just cards, all of them were chattering and laughing in that way that’s peculiar to little girls. Before too long, it was utter pandemonium, with sixteen, count ’em, sixteen hyperactive eight and nine year-old-girls shrieking, laughing, giggling and running madly through the house and around the back yard.

Make that fifteen. I noticed that little Sara hung back from the rest of the kids, looking a little shy, and very lost. I wasn’t the only one who noticed, either.

It didn’t take long for Janelle to notice that Sara hadn’t been included in the chaos. Then the count dropped to fourteen hyperactive little girls, and two quiet little girls sitting at the picnic table on the deck.

I shook my head slowly. You continue to amaze me, Janelle, I thought.

I watched as Janelle stood up, taking Sara’s hand and leading her out onto the lawn to join the other kids. Though she still looked shy, little Sara was at least taking part now, joining the other girls. Then I noticed Sarah-with-an”H” off to one side, whispering to a couple of other girls, pointing in Sara and Janelle’s direction. Uh-oh, I thought.

Sarah-with-an-H is one of those picture-perfect, Barbie doll looking kids who always looks as though she absolutely knows that she’s better than everyone around her. Since she had inherited her looks from her mother, I can only assume that the attitude comes from the same source. But while genetics and environment might explain the kid, they aren’t an excuse for her behavior. I don’t know the little girl well enough to actually dislike her, but I trust my sister’s opinion. She already looked like a supreme little bitch.

Don’t get me wrong. There’s nothing wrong with being a bitch from time to time. I embrace my own inner bitch quite regularly. It’s a girl thing. Get over it. I stop short of outright cruelty, though. I had heard enough about Sarah-with-an-H to realize that she probably enjoyed being cruel.

I heard Sarah-with-an-H call Janelle’s name, then saw her motioning to Janelle to come over. Janelle walked over to the small group of girls, and Sarah-with-an-H leaned close and whispered something in Janelle’s ear. Janelle froze for a moment, then stepped back, a look of rage — not anger, but true rage — slowly spreading over her features.

Here we go, I thought. It’s show time.

Janelle must have been speaking very softly, because I could see her lips moving, but I couldn’t hear a word. I stood up and started towards the group of girls. Then I heard one word come from Janelle, loud and very strong. “Now!”

Janelle had raised her arm and was pointing towards the house. I moved towards the girls, seeing surprise, then confusion, then anger on the face of Sarah-with-an-“H.” She masked it quickly, fixing a smug, haughty little smirk in place.

I was close enough to hear what Janelle was saying now. I was thankful that she’d had the sense to keep her voice low.

“You’re not welcome here anymore, Sarah. I want you to leave. Now.”

Sarah-with-an-H wasn’t going to be discreet, though.

I’d come into their field of vision now, and Sarah-with-an-H shifted her gaze towards me for a moment, then flicked back to Janelle.

“Fine,” she said, loudly enough to make sure that everyone heard her. “You think I want to stay here anyway, with your dyke girlfriend and your queer old dyke aunt hanging around?”

With a hateful look in Sara’s direction, then another in mine, Sarah-with-an-H stalked off towards the deck, calling for her mother. Her two sidekicks followed in her wake. Moe, Larry and Curly, I thought.

I sighed. Some things never change.

Janelle was on the verge of angry tears, but she held them back. She looked up at me.

“You okay, Sweetie?” I asked her.

She nodded. “Yup. I’ll tell you later what she said.”

Janelle glanced in Sara’s direction. I followed her gaze, and saw the little girl standing by herself again, looking distressed and ready to cry. She probably thought this scene was her fault.

Without another word, Janelle went back to Sara, whispering in her ear. I don’t know what she said, but it worked, because I saw a huge grin spread across Sara’s face. In under a minute, the remaining kids were beginning to return to their normal activities.

I headed back to the house, and went into the kitchen. I was in time to see the three little girls heading down the hallway towards the front door, three gift wrapped packages in their hands. There was an ice-queen-resembling woman standing in the kitchen with Kate, her face a mask of anger. The mother.

She was almost screaming at Kate. “You let her be around these children? What’s wrong with you?”

I knew what that meant. I smiled to myself. Time for me to embrace my inner bitch. Beware of flying venom, please.

I saw Kate open her mouth to speak. I raised my hand quickly to stop her. Her mouth closed slowly. I can fight my own battles, thank you very much.

“Excuse me,” I said, as coldly as I could. “Is there something you’d like to say to me, uhm… Miranda? It is Miranda, right?”

The woman spun to look at me. A look of haughty distaste spread across her perfect features as she looked me over from head to toe and back again.

“Is this true?” she asked me. You’re a… a… ” Her voice faltered.

“A lesbian?” I finished for her. “Am I a lesbian, Miranda? Is that what you want to know?” She stared at me with loathing in her eyes. “Why don’t you tell me, Miranda? Do I look like a lesbian?”

I raised my hand to my mouth and ran a finger over my teeth. “Hmm… No fangs. No claws that I can see on my hands. No slobber running down my chin looking at all these pretty little girls. I don’t know, Miranda. Tell me, am I a lesbian?”

That icy stare continued to try burning holes through my skull.

“You don’t get out much, do you, Miranda? This is a pretty small town, and except for college, I’ve lived here all my life. I don’t exactly try to hide the fact that I sleep with women. Ask anyone in town about Meagan Bristol, and they’ll tell you that I’m queer. Funny thing, though. Most people don’t seem to have the same problem with it that you do. I wonder why that is?”

The stare grew hateful. I was glad that there were no kids in the kitchen at that moment. “You’re an abomination!” She spat the words at me.

I smiled warmly. Okay, okay, not so warmly. But I did smile.

“Ah, now I understand,” I said. “I offend your Christian sensibilities, is that it? Well, Miranda, perhaps it will comfort you to know that when I’m making passionate love to another woman, I regularly call out to God, to Jesus Christ, and to all of the saints in heaven. Sex can do that for you. You should try it sometime.”

I looked her slowly up and down one time, then leered at her. “You’re not too bad looking,” I said. “If your husband can’t do it for you, I’d be willing to give it a try.”

She gasped, a look of horror crossing her face. I heard a choked snort come from Kate.

“If I see you near my daughter again, I’ll have you arrested,” she spat at me.

“I’ll do you one better, Miranda,” I said. “If I ever see that evil little bitch you call your daughter harassing my niece again, I’ll hunt you down and kick your proper little ass. I won’t bother with the police.”

Miranda’s mouth opened and closed several times, like a goldfish out of water. A look of fear flicked through her eyes, but it was masked in an instant. She spun around and stalked out of the house. We heard a car start, and speed off down the street.

The next thing I heard was Michael, laughing quietly. I turned to look at him. He was grinning at me.

“What?” I said.

He stared at me for a moment longer. “And you call Kate a bitch,” he murmured.

Kate sputtered and started laughing loudly. Too loudly for my taste. I couldn’t help it, though. I started laughing with them.

The three of us headed back out to the deck. The other moms came over to make sure everything was okay; the general consensus seemed to be that everyone was well rid of the Ice Queen and her little clone, as well as the two snotty friends. Kate quickly repeated what had happened, in a hurried, hushed whisper so the kids wouldn’t overhear. Peals of delighted laughter rang out as the women got the gist of what had gone down.

One woman, someone I didn’t recognize, broke away and came towards me, smiling brightly. “It’s Meagan, right?” I nodded. “Listen, if you decide you’re going to go beat that bitch’s ass, I want in on it,” she said.

Damn! I thought. I grinned at her. “Hopefully it won’t be necessary,” I replied. “But if it is, you’ll be the first to know.”

She nodded. “Good. I’ll hold you to that.”

I saw Michael smirking at me as the woman returned to the small knot of motherhood gazing out at the children on the lawn. “What?” I said.

“Nothing. Just watching the show.”

I stuck my tongue out at him. See how mature I am? He just laughed, the prick.

Janelle came trotting up onto the deck, telling her mother that she had to “pee really, really bad!” I decided I wanted to take a moment to talk to her, make sure she was okay, and perhaps find out what Sarah-with-an-H had said that set her off. I gave Michael a quick whisper telling him that I wanted to talk to Janelle for a minute; he nodded.

I followed Janelle down the hall to the small half-bath on the first floor. She heard me behind her and turned, her face lighting up in a dazzling smile when she saw who was following.

I went into the half-bath with her, and closed the door behind us. Janelle was squirming in that peculiar way that we females do when we really have to go. She gave me a questioning look as she quickly started unbuttoning her leather pants.

“I just wanted to check with you, Sweetie,” I said, “and make sure you’re okay after that little spat outside.”

Janelle’s face darkened for a moment. “Yeah, I’m okay, Aunt Meagan,” she said. “That stupid Sarah can go hang out with her other stupid friends for all I care. I don’t wanna talk to her anymore. And I sure don’t wanna be friends with her anymore, either.”

Her hips shimmied back and forth as she shucked her pants and undies down below her knees and sat on the toilet.

“What did she say that upset you so much, Sweetie?” I asked.

I heard a sigh, accompanied by the splashing of urine into the toilet bowl. Janelle looked up at me with a scowl on her face. “She just said some nasty stuff about Sara, and then about you.”

“You can tell me, Sweetie,” I said. “I’m pretty sure I’ve heard it all before, anyway.”

“She said that Sara is a queer little dyke, and if I hang out with her, then I must be a dyke, too. Then she said I prob’ly am a dyke, cause you are, and everybody knows that dykes always try to turn little girls into dykes, too.”

It’s a good thing that little witch had left. An even better thing that her mother had gone with her.

“Sweetie,” I said, “I’m so sorry you had to put up with something like that. I wish there was something I could say that would make it better.”

She gave me a puzzled look. “Why? I mean, I know you’re gay, an’ sometimes you call yourself queer or a dyke. But it doesn’t sound mean or dirty like it does when Sarah says it. I know she’s just stupid. Besides…” Janelle had peeled of a length off toilet paper and was wiping herself now, with a complete lack of self-consciousness.

“I know you an’ I’ve met some of your girlfriends. There’s nothing wrong with you. Even if I do turn out to be a lesbian, I don’t care. I’m still me, too.”

Nine years old, I thought. Nine years old, with the wisdom of a forty-year-old. My eyes burned for a moment, hearing those words from this lovely little girl.

Janelle stood up and flushed the toilet, then got her pants back into place. I got myself composed while she did.

I looked at her standing there. For a moment, I flashed on my thoughts of her last night, after I’d masturbated. That made me uneasy for some reason, so I pushed the thought aside.

“Hey,” I said, smiling at her. “Have I told you yet how absolutely “hawt” you look in that outfit?”

She blushed deeply, then stepped forward and wrapped her arms around my waist, hugging me tightly. I put my arms around her and hugged her back.

“I love you, Aunt Meagan,” she said softly.

“I know you do, Sweetie. I love you, too.”

When we got back to the deck, Janelle rushed out to the lawn to rejoin her friends. Michael looked at me and raised his eyebrows.

“She’s fine,” I said. “That’s one very remarkable little girl you have there.”

He gave me a smile. “You and Kate are the two main women in her life,” he said. “How could she be anything but remarkable?”

Sometimes my brother-in-law says the sweetest things.

“Stop it,” I said, “or I’ll tell Kate you’re hitting on me.”

He grimaced. “Fine. I won’t try to compliment you again.”

I grinned at him. He stuck his tongue out at me. The maturity in this family is absolutely boundless.

Kate started clapping her hands together loudly, calling all of the girls back up to the deck. It was time for the main event. The crowd was down to thirteen now, which really wasn’t much of an improvement. Well, okay, it was an improvement. Without Sarah-with-an-H and her two snotty little friends, it was a far more pleasant pack of rather noisy little girls.

Janelle, with little Sara by her side, sat down at the large picnic table. She seemed to have decided that she was going to adopt the new Sara, and I have to say, I approved of the idea. Though painfully shy and self-conscious, she seemed to be a very sweet little girl.

Kate nodded to me. That was my cue. I went into the house and began peeling back the foil from the box that held the cake. Michael was there with me, his job was to bring the ice cream. When he saw the cake, he burst into laughter.

“I did it for Kate as much as for Janelle,” I said, smirking.

“I’m sure she’ll just love it,” he said, still snickering. “Janelle, I mean.”

“She’d better. It took me hours to make.”

I got the cake out of the box by simply tearing the duct taped contraption apart. I stuck nine birthday candles in the main part of the cake, walked to the back door, and waited for Michael to light the candles for me. When we were ready, he opened the door for me, and I walked out to the deck, singing “Happy Birthday” as loudly as I could, and completely off key.

Yeah, I know. I said I don’t sing in front of an audience. Birthday parties consisting of a pack of half-wild little girls don’t count.

Everyone joined in singing with me, and I placed the cake in front of Janelle. Her mouth dropped open in surprise, then she giggled delightedly, beaming up at me. I followed her eyes as they glanced up at her mother, who stood beside her with a shocked, open-mouth look of disbelief on her face.

There were gasps, and lots of high-pitched little voices saying things like, “Coool,” “That’s so awesome,” “Ooh, sweeeet!”

The main part of the cake was a huge tree. It was a full three feet from the base of the trunk to the top of the leaves. At the top, the “foliage” spread widely out, about a foot or more to either side. Suspended from the branches, one on either side, were two beautiful snakes, hanging by their tails. Their bodies hung down, then curled back up towards the branches, where their heads faced out, smiling broadly with Cheshire cat grins.

When I say it took hours to make, I wasn’t lying. The whole cake itself was chocolate, Janelle’s favorite. The trunk of the tree was frosted with dark chocolate icing. The branches of the tree, and the two snakes, were done in white chocolate frosting that I’d tinted with food coloring. The leaves were bright green. The two snakes were colored to resemble Ellie and Nellie.

My snakes are rather rare strains of boa constrictors. Ellie is known as a Sharp Strain Albino boa. Her skin is an almost pure white base color, with very pale yellow markings. Nellie is a Salmon boa. Her skin is a light tan base color with darker tan to salmon pink markings. They’re both very beautiful snakes. I was quite proud of how accurately I’d depicted them on the cake.

“Snakes?” Kate gasped. “You made a birthday cake with snakes?”

“They’re boas, Kate,” I said, grinning. “They won’t bite. Though I have to admit, they are showing a lot of teeth, aren’t they? And they aren’t just any snakes, Kate. It’s Ellie and Nellie, which you’d know if you ever got close enough to look at them.”

Kate gave a long, hard shudder. “I hate snakes,” she said, “You know that.”

I grinned at her. “I do, yeah.”

My sister glared at me for a moment, but even she couldn’t pretend to be angry for long, not when Janelle was so obviously delighted. “Okay,” she said, “you win. Someone get some pictures of this monstrosity before it gets destroyed.”

Michael snapped a few pictures of the cake, Janelle blew out the candles, everyone clapped, and then one of the other moms helped her to start cutting it up and serving it. It was something of a hit — to eat, I mean. Nothing like a good, straight from scratch chocolate cake buried under mounds of ice cream.

I was going to have to be a good girl, and spend some extra time working out this week. No way I was passing up a plateful of my own creation.

When no one could eat any more cake and ice cream, it was time for Janelle to open her presents. I wanted to save mine for last. I went in to help Kate gather the gifts up and bring them out to the deck.

As we gathered everything together, Kate gave me her “special look.” “Thanks, sis. You did a wonderful job on that cake, even if you did have to be a bitch and bring snakes into my house.”

“Don’t call me a bitch… not just yet, anyhow!” I retorted. “You haven’t even seen the presents I have for her!”

She peered at me suspiciously. I blinked innocently. I can look innocent if I try. Really, I can.

Kate wasn’t buying it. “I’m not going to like this, am I?”

“Don’t be silly,” I said. “Janelle’s going to love it, which means you’ll love it because she’ll be so happy.”

“Uh-huh. Why don’t I believe you?”

I shrugged, innocently again. “I have no idea,” I said, giving my beloved sister a mock-hurt look.

The problem with trying to look innocent — at least when you’re me — is that people know you only too well. They’ve learned that I’m seldom innocent.

We brought Janelle’s gifts out to her on the deck. Mine stayed in the house, waiting until the end. There was the usual array of toys, books, clothing, little girl’s purses and makeup kits, etc. Most everyone who knows Janelle is aware that she’s not the type to play with dolls much, though she does have a few. One mom had even given her a student chemistry set. I couldn’t help but be amused as I pictured Kate trying to deal with miniature explosions and foul odors coming from Janelle’s bedroom.

Finally, it was my turn. I took a deep breath, ready to face the music, even though I knew that this was going to make Janelle’s day.

I decided to bring her gifts to her one at a time. I excused myself, went through the house and out to my Chevy to retrieve two small packages from the front seat, then a large one from the cargo area. I headed back in, put two of the packages on the kitchen table, and brought the first one out to her.

Kate watched me suspiciously as I handed the gift to Janelle. Michael stood on the sidelines, ready to run interference for me, I hoped.

Janelle unwrapped the small present. It consisted of two books. One was a very thick, very comprehensive volume titled simply, “Herpetology.” Herpetology, for those of you not familiar with the term, is the study of reptiles and amphibians. Including, of course, snakes. It was probably a little over her head, but eventually, I hoped that it would come in handy for her. I’d also given her a smaller, much simpler book called, “The Complete Book of Snakes.”

I’d written a short inscription in each, congratulating her on her ninth birthday and on her increasing love of snakes, wishing her much enjoyment as she read and learned more about them.

She looked up, smiling. “Thank you, Aunt Meagan,” she said.

I arched an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m not finished yet, Sweetie.”

Kate had a dawning look of horror on her face. Uh-huh, baby sister. I went there.

I brought out the largest gift next. It was huge, but not all that heavy, really. Janelle had to stand to tear the wrapping paper from it. It was a fifty gallon glass terrarium kit, complete with everything that would be needed to keep a snake comfortable and healthy.

She beamed at me. “Oh, sweet!” she exclaimed. She shot her mother a look. “Maybe someday, I can even have a snake to put in it!”

I glanced at Kate. She was still looking horrified, but also a little ill now. She got it. Janelle still didn’t. “There’s one more gift to go, Sweetie,” I said quietly.

I came out of the kitchen with the other small package. Kate glared at me, shook her head, then a look of defeated resignation fell over her face.

“Be careful, Sweetie,” I said, placing the package in front of her. “This one is a little fragile.”

Carefully, Janelle started to tear off the wrapping paper. She didn’t notice that there were small holes punctured in the paper around the sides. The paper came off to reveal a white cardboard box with small air holes around the sides. Gingerly, she opened the top of the box, and I heard her suck in a sharp breath, then coo quietly.

“Oh, Aunt Meagan, it’s beautiful!” she exclaimed.

Inside the box, coiled tightly in one corner, was a small, immature boa constrictor. I’d searched for several months to find this snake. She was about eight months old, still very young. Janelle was right. She was beautiful.

“She’s very young, Sweetie,” I said. “You’ll have to take extra special care of her. And listen, I want you to know something. If it’s really too hard for your Mom to handle having her in the house, you can keep her at my house, okay? You’re there almost every day, anyway, so you’d be able to take care of her and see to keeping her healthy.”

I glanced at Kate. I wanted her to know that the gift really was about making Janelle happy, and not about trying to irk my sister. She didn’t look very happy, but she forced a smile.

“Absolutely not,” she said. “This is something that Janelle really wants. I can learn to deal with it. But, I refuse to go in that room with the snake in it. I really don’t have to clean in there much anyway, but you’re going to have to vacuum that room every week. If you can promise me that you’ll keep your room clean, the way I ask you to, then you can keep it here.”

She looked at Michael, who had a look of shock on his face. “I can’t believe I just said that,” she muttered.

Every adult present burst into laughter at that.

I turned back to Janelle. “She’s called a Sunglow boa, Sweetie,” I said. “She’s very rare. She’s also one of the most beautiful boas I think I’ve ever seen.”

That was the truth. The snake was a very pale orange-white base color, with bright orange markings that were the color of the outside of a Creamsicle. Her eyes were the same color as her orange markings. She was a gorgeous specimen. I was lucky to have found her for sale.

“Can I pick her up?” Janelle asked me.

I nodded. “Very carefully, though,” I said. “She hasn’t eaten since I got her, but she’s still very young and delicate.”

Gently, Janelle reached into the box and lifted the young snake out. The rest of the little girls all “Ooo’ed” and “Ahhh’ed,” though they didn’t come too close, either.

Correction. Sara stepped closer. “She’s so pretty!” she exclaimed.

Janelle beamed at her. “You can pet her if you want to,” she said.

Very carefully, Sara reached out and gently stroked the top of the snake’s head. The slender forked tongue flicked out, tasting the air, scenting on the little girl’s hand. Sara cooed delightedly. “She’s not slimy at all!”

“Nope,” said Janelle. “Snakes aren’t slimy. They’re dry and smooth, really.”

She gently draped the young snake around her neck, cupping her hand beneath the neck the way that I’d taught her. I saw Kate shudder out of the corner of my eye.

Okay, so at least part of me was having a blast at my sister’s discomfort. Yes, I’m a bitch. Trust me, she’d think of a way to get back at me. She always does.

Keeping an eye on the pack of girls who were admiring the snake, I went to my sister. “Listen,” I said, “she really can keep her at my house if you want. I don’t think she’ll have a major problem with that. It will still be her snake.”

Kate scowled at me, then sighed heavily. “No, it’s okay,” she said. “I’ll learn to live with it. But you’d better watch your back.”

I looked at her innocently. “Why?” I asked.

“Because, you are so going to pay for this.”

“Now, now, little sister,” I teased. “Mind your manners!”

She glared again. “It’s not my manners that you need to worry about,” she said.

I laughed, patted her back and returned to the pack of girls.

“Janelle,” I said, “I think maybe we should take her up to your room and set up her terrarium, okay? She’s still a baby, and she’s had enough excitement for one day.”

Janelle nodded. I picked up the terrarium and headed into the house, Janelle on my heels, the other girls following behind to watch.

For the time being, we’d have to put the terrarium on the floor. I’d talk to Michael about building a stand for it. I set it down, and set everything up. Little Sara ran to the bathroom with the water dish, and returned with it filled almost to the top. I had her put it in the terrarium, back in one corner. Janelle stepped forward. I gasped quietly.

Suddenly, I found Janelle to be exotically beautiful. A slender, strawberry blonde little girl with enormous dark blue eyes, dressed in black leather, with a beautiful boa constrictor draped around her neck. She was only nine, and incredibly sexy.

I felt a familiar pang in my belly, then a flush of guilt. What the fuck? I thought, incredulously. I shook the feeling away. If you ignore something, it will go away, right?

Nope. Not on this plane of existence.

Gently, Janelle removed the snake from her neck and placed it in the terrarium. I showed her how to fasten the top so that the snake couldn’t escape, and gave her directions on using the light and heat lamp mounted in the top. She listened carefully, nodding.

When I stood, Janelle wrapped her arms around my waist in a tight hug, and I automatically returned it. “Thank you, Aunt Meagan,” she whispered. “You’re the best!”

“Nope. You are,” I said.

I rounded up the pack of girls and shooed them out of the room. The poor snake needed some peace and quiet. Me, I needed some time to think.

The party was finally winding down. The kids never did get around to playing in the sprinkler. One by one, the girls and mothers were leaving. Eventually, it was down to me, Michael, Kate, Janelle and Sara. Sara had come out of her shell a little bit, especially now that it was just her and Janelle left. She bustled around with Janelle, both girls helping the adults with the cleaning up.

She really is a sweet kid, I thought.

It came time, though, when I needed to take Sara home. I asked Janelle if she’d like to ride with us. She shot her mother a questioning look, and grinned when Kate nodded to her. I gathered up my purse, and told the girls to head out to the Chevy.

Sara went to Kate and Michael, smiling, but looking down at the floor shyly. “Thanks, Mr. and Mrs. McCarthy. I had fun today.”

Kate smiled. “You’re welcome, Sara,” she said. “And you’re more than welcome to come and visit any time you’d like.”

Sara smiled again and nodded. “Thank you,” she said, simply.

The two girls tumbled down the hall and out the front door. I heard the doors slamming on my Chevy.

“Bye, you guys,” I said. “It was a blast!”

Kate was still glaring at me. Michael looked like the proverbial cat who ate the canary.

“See you, Meagan,” he said. “Drive carefully.”

“Always,” I said. “I’ll drop Janelle off on my way home from Sara’s.”

They were walking me to the door. I got into my Chevy and started the engine, telling the girls to make sure their seat belts were buckled. I waved at Kate and Michael, then Janelle waved, and then Sara joined in. We headed off.

“So what are you gonna name your snake?” I heard Sara ask.

Janelle was quiet for a moment, as though she was thinking about this. I glanced in the rearview and met her eyes, looking at me thoughtfully.

“If it’s okay with Aunt Meagan,” she said, “I think I’m gonna name her after her.”

Pleased, I smiled in the mirror.

“Is that okay Aunt Meagan? Do you mind if I name her after you?”

“She’s your snake, Sweetie,” I said. “You get to name her anything you want to name her.”

“You’re sure she’s a girl snake, right?”

I nodded. Janelle knows that determining the gender of a snake can be tricky if you don’t know what you’re doing. “Yup, she’s a girl,” I said. “She saw the vet yesterday morning for a checkup, and I had him make sure. He also said that she’s in very good health.”

Janelle grinned hugely. “Cool! Then her name is Meagan!”

I felt that familiar little stabbing sensation in my lower belly again, this time accompanied by a little “skip-thump” of my heart. I was beginning to feel a little confused.

Okay, a lot confused. Not to mention guilty. I was still doing passably well with the denial thing, but I knew exactly what that stabbing sensation in my belly meant.

The only thing about denial is that you know you’re lying to yourself, even while you do it. I wasn’t at all comfortable with this reaction to my niece.

My nine-year-old niece, I reminded myself firmly.

I noticed that the closer we got to Sara’s home, the quieter she got. That also made me a little uneasy, but for a completely different reason. When a kid is that apprehensive about going home, there’s usually a reason for it.

At least it gave me something to focus on other than my own feelings. I needed that.

I kept a surreptitious eye on Sara as we got closer and closer to her home. She seemed to pull in on herself, almost physically. Her face started to take on that same look of defeat that I’d seen on her mother’s face earlier in the day. Something wasn’t right.

I tried to lighten the mood a little. “Sara, do you think your parents would let you have a sleepover with Janelle tomorrow night? The two of you could stay with me for the night, and I can bring you both to school on Monday morning.”

Sara looked at me in the mirror, a look of stunned surprise on her wan little face.

“Oh, that would be awesome!” piped up Janelle. “You think they would, Sara? We could have a blast at Aunt Meagan’s house. She’s got two snakes!”

“I can ask my Mom,” she said, a shy smile on her face again.

“Why don’t we just ask your Dad when we get to your house?” I asked.

The smile vanished. “Uhm, no, it’s better if I ask my Mom,” she said quietly.

Yup, I thought. Definitely something not right here.

“Would you like me to call her at work and ask her?” I said.

“No, you can’t call her at work or she’ll get in trouble,” said Sara. “But you could call her at home tomorrow, if you want to.”

“Okay, I’ll do that,” I said. “Is it okay to call early?”

Sara nodded. “Mom’s always up early,” she said quietly.

We were turning into Sara’s driveway now, a long, winding unpaved strip of dirt that led to a rundown old farmhouse set back from the road. It wasn’t a bad looking place, but it could use a little TLC.

I pulled up in front of the house and parked the Chevy. Janelle and Sara got out of the rear seat. Janelle was murmuring to Sara, but I couldn’t hear her. I got out and joined them just as Sara was turning away to walk up the porch steps.

“Bye, Sara! Thanks for coming to my party!” Janelle said.

“I’ll call your Mom in the morning, Sara. Thanks for coming!” I said.

Sara lifted one hand in a wave, without turning around. Her head hung down now, her shoulders were hunched forward. That one word kept knocking around in my mind. Defeat. The little girl walked like she was completely defeated.

Janelle sat in front with me on the return trip. I gave it a couple of minutes before I started to question her.

“Sweetie, do you know anything about Sara?” I asked.

She looked at me with a puzzled expression. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, do you know anything about what it’s like for her at home? Does she have brothers or sisters? Do you know where she lived before she came here?”

“I don’t think she has any brothers or sisters,” said Janelle. “If she does they’re not in school yet. And I only started talking to her yesterday, so I don’t know anything about home or where she’s from. And she doesn’t really talk to anybody at school, so I don’t know. Why?”

“Just curious,” I said. “I know she’s not from around here, or I’d know her parents.”

Janelle was silent for a few minutes. “She always seems so sad, Aunt Meagan,” she said quietly.

“Yeah,” I said. “I kind of thought that, too.”

We were quiet the rest of the way home. When we got to my sister’s, Janelle unbuckled her seat belt and opened her door. Before she got out, she stopped for a moment.

“Thanks again for my boa, Aunt Meagan,” she said, smiling. “She’s just too awesome for words.”

“You’re welcome, Sweetie. I know you’ll take good care of her; that’s the main reason I went ahead and got her for you.”

She nodded soberly. “I will, I promise.”

“Fill your Mom in about the sleepover idea, okay? And ask her to call me a little later on.”

“‘Kay, I will,” she said. “That would be so cool if Sara can come.”

“Well, why don’t you plan to stay over either way. Hopefully Sara will be able to come, but if not, you and I can still have a sleepover.”

She grinned happily. “‘Kay. Bye, Aunt Meagan. Thanks again!”

Maybe Sara won’t be able to come, I mused. I immediately slammed a lid on that thought.

Janelle jumped out of the Chevy, slammed the door, and ran to the house. I waited until she went in the door, then pulled out and headed for home.

I deliberately and very forcefully kept my thoughts occupied with things other than Janelle when I got home. I was beginning to be very afraid of what I was feeling.

When the phone rang, I jumped. I’d been involved with some tricky vector graphics on the computer, and it startled me. I checked the caller ID. It was Kate.

“Hey, little sister,” I said, by way of greeting.

“Hi, Meagan. What’s up? Janelle said you wanted me to call?”

“Yeah. Did she tell you about the sleepover idea?”

Kate snorted. “What do you think?” she said. “She’s upstairs packing some things now.”

I laughed. “Okay, great.” I said. “That’s not the main reason I wanted to talk to you, though.”

“What’s up?” she asked.

“I don’t really know,” I said. “Did you happen to notice anything odd about little Sara today? Sara with no “H” I mean.”

“Only that she seems to be really quiet and shy. Why?”

I described how Sara had changed as we got closer to her home, and the way she had looked as she was going into the house. I also made mention of her quick refusal to have me ask her father about a sleepover.

Kate was silent for a minute. “That does sound kind of odd,” she said quietly. “What are you thinking?”

“That’s just it,” I said. “I don’t know exactly what I’m thinking. But if her mother lets her come over here to spend the night tomorrow, I’m going to see what I can find out. Something just isn’t right there.”

“Okay, well, don’t go jumping to any conclusions too fast,” she said. “She might just be really shy. But keep me posted, okay?”

“I will,” I said. “You want me to pick Janelle up tomorrow, or do you want to bring her over?”

“Uhm… if you’re offering to come and get her, I won’t refuse.”

“You got it,” I said. “Tell her I’ll be there at about ten o’clock.”

“Okay,” she replied. “And Meagan, thank you. I don’t really like the idea of that thing being in my house, but you made Janelle very happy today. She’s thrilled to death with that hideous creature.”

“Hey! She’s not hideous! She’s beautiful.” I paused, then, “Did she tell you what she named her?”

I heard a deep sigh. “Yeah, yeah, I know. She named it after Super Aunt.”

“Her, Kate. She’s a her, not an it.”

“No, it is a snake. There’s nothing female about it.”

This was fun. I do love to get under Kate’s skin. “Fine. You go right ahead and refer to my namesake as an it.” I was trying to feign hurt feelings.

Kate wasn’t buying it. She snorted again. “You’re the only person I know who would be flattered at the thought of someone naming a snake after you.”

“A beautiful snake,” I said, “Who was given a beautiful name, in honor of Janelle’s beautiful aunt.”

“Whatever.”

I snickered. “Bye, Kate. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You will if that creature doesn’t kill me in my sleep,” she said.

“Bye, Kate.”

“Night, Meagan.”

I hung up the phone. Now, though, Janelle was at the front of my thoughts. Damn it!

I sighed heavily. I did not want to examine these feelings that I was only now becoming aware of. Feelings about Janelle. Frankly, they scared the crap out of me.

I took my evening shower, brushed my teeth, and got ready to relax for a while. Maybe a good movie will take my mind off things, I thought. Something I’ve seen a thousand times, one that I adore.

I decided to watch Casablanca, and just be a vegetable.

The tactic worked, at least for the length of the film. While I watched it, I indulged myself and had three glasses of a very nice Merlot. By the time the movie ended, I had nice little glowy feeling; I turned off the television, put my wineglass in the sink, and headed up to bed.

So much for good intentions.

I’ll spare you most of the gory details. I’m sure that you really aren’t interested in a play-by-play of my nightly autoerotic activities. I will tell you why I found myself tossing and turning for the rest of the night, even after another mind-numbing orgasm, followed by a second smaller, but no less satisfying second one.

Physically satisfying, at any rate. They left my thoughts in a state of utter turmoil.

I had reached the point where I was clawing hungrily towards that first orgasm, the purple vibrator buried deep within the hot, wet depths of my pussy. My left hand was doing double duty, fingers working the vibrator in and out of my clutching, spasming sex, the heel of one hand pressing down on my clit, sending repeated shocks through my body. My right hand had slipped beneath my ass, also doing double duty. It was helping to support my weight as I held my hips high off the bed; the index finger was probing and teasing at my rosebud. As it slid finally through the dark anal ring, I moaned, and felt the orgasm begin to pour through me.

That’s when it happened. Yup, you guessed it.

In my mind, I had a picture of Janelle sitting “Indian-style,” stark naked, on the bed between my widespread legs. She was watching avidly as my hands feverishly worked at my pussy and ass. As I began to moan my way into orgasm, she looked up at me, a beautiful smile on her face.

I heard her little voice in my mind, breathy and full of wonder. “Are you coming, Aunt Meagan? Is this what happens when you come?”

Even with the shock that slammed into me at such a mental image, the orgasm tore its way into my soul.

I’m not normally a screamer; I’ll moan and groan endlessly, but it takes a lot to make me literally scream. This was one of those rare occasions.

Thank the Goddess that I don’t live in an apartment. The neighbors would have thought I was being murdered.

It lasted for what seemed an eternity. Through the bright, exploding little pinpoints of silver light that peppered the backs of my eyelids floated that mental image of Janelle, naked, sitting between my obscenely splayed legs. I saw a look of sheer delight on her face as she chattered away at me in my mind.

“You’re doing it, Aunt Meagan! You’re coming! Oh my God, Aunt Meagan, it’s so awesome! I wanna do it, too, Aunt Meagan, I wanna come, too! Can I come, too, please?”

Finally, blessedly, she fell silent. Her image remained, though, smiling fondly at me as I slid down the back side of my orgasm, my body twitching and shuddering, then finally collapsing to the mattress.

I was afraid to open my eyes, fearing that I might find her sitting there between my knees. Please don’t be there, Janelle, I thought desperately.

I let my eyes open slowly, heaving an enormous sigh of relief when I found myself alone. It was the first time, I think, that I’ve ever actually been grateful for being alone in my bed.

Sighing again, I slid the purple vibrator from my pussy. Automatically, it came to my mouth, where I cleaned all traces of my wetness from it. I put it to the side, and my hand drifted back to my mons. Without any conscious thought on my part, my hands continued to explore and caress, my body slowly coming down from the orgasm.

I couldn’t get the image of Janelle out of my mind. Not remembered images, but the fantasy image that my perverted, twisted mind had conjured up. The image of my nine-year-old niece, sitting naked between my legs, smiling as she excitedly urged me on into my orgasm, begging me to let her experience her own.

What the hell is wrong with you, Meagan?

Even as the question snarled through my mind, though, that image of Janelle stayed in place. Without any warning, I was suddenly on the verge of another orgasm. Not as intense this time, but an orgasm nonetheless.

As I plunged three fingers into my slick pussy, I heard myself babbling and moaning. Not just thinking the words this time, but actually speaking them.

“Oh God, Janelle, sweetie… I want to come for you, baby… come with me, sweet girl… come with Aunt Meagan, baby…”

The words kept coming as the climax rolled and twisted on an unstoppable course through my body and my mind. I was at once more aroused and yet more dismayed and angry with myself than I can ever remember being in my life. But I couldn’t stop it.

Finally, the orgasm burned itself out. I snatched my hands from between my legs and rolled myself into the covers on my bed, grinding my face down into the pillow. I was sobbing, gut-wrenching gulps of air. There were tears soaking into my pillow.

Eventually, the sobbing subsided. The tears did not. I fell into a troubled sleep, tossing and turning, waking frequently throughout the night. My dreams consisted of half-remembered news reports concerning child molesters, pedophiles, child pornographers.

I woke in the morning, exhausted and cranky. I got out of bed, pulled on my robe, and went to make coffee. When it was done, I sat on the couch, sipping coffee, trying to make sense of what had happened the night before. I glanced at the two glass terrariums that hold my lovely boa constrictors.

Ellie and Nellie seemed to be glaring at me. Logically, I know that snakes have very poor vision, and if they could see me at all from that distance, I was nothing but a shapeless blur to them. Nonetheless, I swore I could read accusation and disgust in their faces. I can’t say that I blamed them.

What the hell have I become?

Continue on to Chapter 3

By Passing Cloud

I remember a feeling of empowerment when I awoke the next morning.

I had given my older sister an experience of ecstasy for the first time in her life. I had done it — no-one else. It was a sense of achievement; an awareness of my own capabilities. I felt proud and in control.

Then on top of that, I had found a way to give myself that same experience. With deft manipulation I could have that self-pleasure virtually any time. Two major events in one night, three in one day. My god, what would happen today? I strode purposefully off to school, my big sister trailing in my wake. My mind raced and I thought about Maria. I wished and hoped that she would be eager for some sort of repeat of yesterday, and I would have a chance to show her what I could do. To show her my newfound talents; to give her a taste of the pleasure that she’d already given me. I wanted her to love and want me like I did her.

It didn’t quite turn out that way, though.

My morning passed again in a haze of imaginings, but I did manage to stay out of trouble with the teachers until, at lunchtime, I was able to sprint off in search of Maria and the ‘gang’.

I met them, out of breath, in the playground near the library. They greeted me warmly, particularly Maria who, as I ran to her, casually put her arm across my shoulders (my heart leapt) and affectionately stroked the back of my head, trailing her fingers through my hair, briefly touching the skin on the back of my neck. (Oh, my…)

To my dismay, the first thing she said was “I couldn’t get the key today, so we can’t go in there,” nodding towards the hall. Then, seeing the disappointment written on my face, she smiled broadly, gave my shoulders an encouraging squeeze, and said, “But that’s alright; we’ll find somewhere else to go with my favourite little girlfriend.”

With her arm still resting casually on my shoulders, and me positively glowing after her “favourite little girlfriend” line, we wandered off behind the library — seemingly aimlessly — but actually with real purpose.

It was an old school covering many acres and, as newer facilities had been developed, the older buildings had fallen into varying levels of disuse. Such a one was before us now — a detached double unit, dating from the forties, boasting high steel-framed windows — still miraculously intact — now used as an almost-forgotten storage space for random pieces of school furniture and paraphernalia.

There was no one else about, so Maria tried the door. The old steel handle squealed as she pushed it down, and the frame juddered and groaned as she pulled, but happily, with just a little effort, the door creaked open just enough for a little girl to get through.

We quickly slipped inside, pulled the door closed behind us, and disappeared behind the haphazardly stored furniture.

It was a sunny day, and dust danced in the intensified light which burned through the tall windows. It was hot, much hotter than outside, and there was an eerie quiet — broken only by the sound of our feet as we shuffled through the maze of old furniture. I was dazzled by the glare as I gazed around, following Maria as she manoeuvred through the melee. There were butterflies in my stomach: adrenalin rising.

We came to a small area in the midst of an array of tall cupboards — an area out of sight from the outside, where a number of chairs were stacked beside a low table.

Maria pulled a chair off the stack and sat down, commenting, “Nobody can see us here.”

In turn taking a chair and sitting down, Nancy said, “What should we do, then?”

Kathy and Jude followed suit, taking a chair each and dropping into place with Nancy and Maria. They unconsciously formed a little enclave around the low table, one on each side, facing inwards. There were no more chairs.

Suddenly feeling isolated and awkward, I stood meekly behind Maria, saying nothing, self-consciously twisting my hair around the fingers of one hand while nervously gnawing a knuckle of the other.

Maria spun around, straddling the chair. She leaned on the chair back, rested her chin on her arms as she looked at me. There was a glow about her, a spark in her big brown eyes. A huge smile spread across her face and I was once more bewitched by her beauty; her full red lips, her even white teeth. I longed for her. She really was stunning. I noticed the flash of her pink tongue as she spoke.

“I know what I’d like to do.” She paused. “I’d like to see my little girlfriend naked.”

The butterflies instantly returned as panic swept through me. I didn’t know what to say. Wide-eyed, I looked around to the left, to the right — as though desperately seeking a way out.

The panic didn’t last long, however.

Maria stood, took my hand in hers. She lifted my chin with her fingertips, gazed into my eyes, said, “Will you, Little Sis… for me?”

Then the clincher. She bent down, put her lips to my cheek, kissed me gently and whispered, “Please.”

I felt the imprint of her lips like a burn. I was hers. No doubt. I would do whatever she wanted.

I bowed my head a little, and looked up at her from under my brows. It was a look of humility. I managed a sweet little smile, then nodded my assent.

“Yes!” she exclaimed, “fantastic!” She took my hand again and, leading me as if onto a stage, said, “Here. Stand on the table and do it there so we can see you properly.”

As I stepped onto the low table (fortunately in one piece and quite stable), the others, who had been silently watching up to this point, burst into a spontaneous (if quiet) round of applause. Jude started to hum the tune from “The Stripper,” and the others all laughed, even Maria.

For a moment I had second thoughts, and pleaded, “Don’t make fun, or I won’t do it.”

Again Maria soothed me. She put her hand on my arm, squeezing gently. “We’re not making fun of you, Sis, I promise. Come on, strip off for us.”

She sat down and there I was, surrounded on all sides by eleven-year-old girls who were intensely scrutinising me, waiting for me. I was the centre of their attention. Suddenly I felt important, wanted. I began to feel good.

I was facing Maria, who smiled up at me. To my left was my sister Kathy, to my right Nancy, and behind me Jude.

“Take off your blouse,” instructed Maria.

I pulled my crisp cotton blouse out of the waistband of my skirt and hurriedly unfastened the buttons. Taking hold of the open front, I quickly checked the faces around me. They were all staring, all smiling.

I removed the blouse and threw it onto an adjacent chest of drawers.

For a moment I self-consciously wrapped my arms around my naked torso. I felt vulnerable, exposed. Then I felt it. That warm glow between my legs, the feeling I had begun to crave: arousal.

In my language of the time, I was starting to feel “sexy.”

“Take your skirt off.” It was Maria again, another instruction — and more compliance from me.

I unfastened my skirt and let it drop to the table top. I stepped out of it and threw it alongside my discarded blouse.

There were a couple of comments then. “Ooh, sexy bum!” Nancy shouted.

“Nice knickers!” giggled Jude.

“Take them off,” said Maria.

I looked around again. The faces were suddenly more intense, more alert. Half-smiles flickered, tongues licked lips. I noticed a slight flush to Nancy’s cheeks. My sister was leaning forward, her arms folded in her lap. Jude’s eyes seemed strangely liquid.

I realise now that she wore her lust like a badge.

I faced Maria again. I looked into her eyes and watched as her gaze lowered; became focused between my legs.

I kept my eyes on her as I started to push my panties down. I slid them along my thighs, slowly — then, when they were at my knees, I let them fall. I stood up and stepped out of them.

Automatically my hands went to cover myself, flapping nervously in front of my bare vulva.

“Move your hands,” ordered Maria. “Put them on your head.”

I should have felt embarrassed, but I was actually grateful for the instruction. Having somewhere to put them, they were no longer my responsibility. Not my problem.

So I stood, naked except for my shoes and socks, and displayed myself.

Maria spoke again. Leadership seemed effortless to her. “Take your shoes and socks off. I want you with nothing on at all. Then put your hands back up.”

It was a strange moment for me. Essentially naked, I was feeling quite comfortable exposed like that, with the girls examining me. But as I passively removed first my shoes, then my socks, I began to feel more than naked.

In the brilliant, relentless sunshine, I felt oddly helpless, with no one to protect me. Vulnerable, like a baby.

Now with my hands back on my head, Maria instructed me again. “Open your legs a bit. Let’s have a good look at you.”

As I moved my little feet slightly apart — the table top wouldn’t allow any more — Maria got up and stood facing me. She was close, so close I could feel her breath on my face. Then, smiling warmly throughout, she started to feel me.

First she put her hands on my face, caressed my cheeks, my eyelids, my lips. She ran her fingers through my hair, then stroked my hands and forearms, which remained in place as she had instructed.

Her hands started to move down to my neck, then my shoulders.

She felt along the inside of my raised arms, stroked my sensitive armpits. I squirmed, my face contorting.

“Does it tickle?” she asked, her hands resting on my sensitive skin.

I nodded, suppressing a giggle, and looked pleadingly into her eyes.

Her grin widened and hinted at wickedness, as she said, “Don’t move,” then started to tickle me in earnest. Her flickering fingers drummed and played in my armpits, then tormented my ribs, then back under my arms. Again and again she did this, for what seemed like minutes. Her smile turned to laughter as I squirmed and wriggled under her gorgeous cruelty. She laughed as she ordered me to, “Stay still. How can I tickle you properly if you keep moving about?” The others were all laughing and giggling too as she tortured me, but I somehow managed to stay upright, to endure, to actually enjoy what she was doing to me. My helplessness manifest; and I was soaking.

Her tickles turned to caresses then as she felt my chest, gliding across my tiny nipples, making me tremble.

It felt lovely and I wanted her to do it again.

Instead she crouched down, sliding her hands down my flanks, reaching behind to caress my small, round buttocks, then down the full length of my legs — front and back — then, even, to my naked toes, which she stroked and examined in detail.

She stood up then, trailing her hands up the inside of my thighs until, blissfully, I felt her cup my vulva in her hand and slide her finger along the tight slit.

She said, “Let’s show the others,” and nudged me round so I was facing Nancy. Crouching down again, she carefully parted my little lips and, smiling at Nancy, simply said “Look at her little cunt. I love it!”

Nancy, even more flushed, reached out to touch me. Maria stretched me wider as Nancy’s finger tips tickled my exposed clitoris. She chuckled playfully as my hips involuntarily jerked, and I uttered an appreciative “Oooh!”

Softly she asked, “Is that nice?”

I could only respond through tightly pressed lips. “Mmmm.”

She took hold of my hips and told me to turn around. Jude was looking up at me. She was also smiling. Her eyes lustfully roamed up and down my body.

Maria, however, hadn’t finished with Nancy yet. With a hand on each of my buttocks, she used her thumbs to part my cheeks. I sensed the movement as Maria and Nancy moved closer to look at my anus.

I could feel their breath on the back of my thighs.

I can’t begin to express how exciting it was, that personal inspection — my most secret, private place (or so I thought) being looked at, examined in broad daylight. It felt so rude, so forbidden. I loved it.

Again I instinctively jerked my hips as I felt a fingertip’s soft caress between my cheeks.

Misunderstanding my reaction, Maria gently chided, “No, Sis, don’t do that. Don’t move away. Let her.”

I felt the finger touch my anus and Nancy sigh, “Oh,” then “Ooh,” then, to Maria, “I can’t believe I’m touching her here.” She giggled then and I felt a light pressure on my anus. It felt so nice that I wanted her to push harder, but instead Maria said, “Okay, move round. It’s Jude’s turn now.”

So the process was repeated — first with Jude, then with my sister Kathy. Jude seemed to be allowed longer to examine my anus — which she did while simultaneously tickling my clitoris — all the while commenting on how it looked and felt. Finally, as she almost penetrated my sphincter with her probing finger, she said, “That’s great. I love her little bum hole.”

By comparison, my sister only spent a short time inspecting me — presumably in reaction to her passive role at my hands the previous night — but nevertheless her soft touch and eager praise sent thrills of pleasure through me.

When they’d all had their turn, Maria stood up in front of me again. She put her hand between my legs and started to stroke me rhythmically along my slit. Her other hand played with my nipples, stroking, squeezing and lightly pinching them in turn.

It felt wonderful.

I stared at her lovely face as she played with me. I was gently swaying to this sensual rhythm, floating in pleasure, loving her more and more with each caress, when she leaned forward and whispered the question, “Have you ever been tongued?”

Continue on to Chapter 4

Introduction by JetBoy: A Little History

It was about seven years ago when I first stumbled onto Muffi’s story “Mommy, Show Me How” while idly searching the Internet for juicy lesbian fiction. Immediately smitten by what I read, I dropped her a line to tell her how much I enjoyed it. She went on to join yours truly among the roster of authors at the Lesbian Lolita site, and a long-distance friendship was born.

Soon she began a new story, a lengthy one, “My Niece Janelle.” Four chapters were completed and posted, then Muffi contacted me with a problem: her regular editor was unavailable, and she’d never worked without one. She asked me to take on the task, and I happily accepted.

We quickly discovered that the two of us worked extremely well as a team. She would write the chapter, I’d tinker with it and make suggestions, and we agreed about 99.5% of the time. (Much later, I went back to the earlier chapters and edited those as well. These will appear for the first time at Juicy Secrets.)

Muffi’s characters are so vividly drawn that it was easy to get into their heads and think like they do. This came in handy when she got stuck on chapter 9 and found herself unable to finish it. She asked me to complete the chapter… and we were both pleased with the result.

Muffi chose to depart our scene a couple of years ago for personal reasons. She is profoundly missed. As her editor and occasional collaborator, my hope is to write a concluding chapter for this story. Like all the others, it will be credited to Muffi. “My Niece Janelle” will always be her creation. She built the house — all I did was slap on a coat of paint and move the furniture around a bit.

Wherever you are, Muffi, my thanks, love, regards, and eternal friendship go out to you.

yrs, JetBoy

---

My Niece Janelle
By Muffi

{ This story was originally posted at Lesbian Lolita in February 2010 }

For the men out there reading this, you’ll pardon me if I’m a bit cynical, but I believe that you’ll enjoy this story that I’m about to tell you if for no other reason than the fact that it illustrates that women can be every bit as perverted as any man. I’ve also noticed that for some reason, men seem to be completely fascinated by the idea of two females being sexually involved with each other. I’m not sure why that is, but whatever. Let’s just say that what you’re about to read isn’t your typical girl-does-girl story, leave it at that, and let you read on.

This is a serialized story, and as such, it will take some time to get to the lesbian sex. Please be patient…

***

My name is Meagan Bristol. I’m a thirty-something-year-old woman, queer as a three dollar bill, and this is about how I made the startling discovery that little girls are the ultimate sexual turn-on for me. Well, at least one little girl is.

Mind you, I don’t run around seeking out children to molest. But I have fallen completely, utterly, desperately, head over heels in love and lust with one little nine-year-old girl. She’s my sister’s daughter, Janelle. And we now share a relationship that is quite simply the most amazing experience of my life.

Furthermore, my niece has seen fit to bring her best friend into our relationship. That initially scared the living hell out of me, but I’ve grown accustomed to it, and as you’ll see, it can be quite, um… stimulating, shall we say?

Janelle and I have always been close. Ever since she was a toddler, we’ve spent a lot of time together. We’ve always been more like best friends than aunt and niece. These days, most families are in the position where husband and wife, or partner and partner, both have to work in order to make ends meet, and my sister and her husband are no exception. As a freelance graphic artist, I’m pretty much able to set my own schedule, which leaves me free to take care of Janelle while her parents are at work, saving them some considerable money in child care expenses. I’ve never minded — quite the contrary. I love being with Janelle, spending time with her, doing things with her. As I said, we’re more like best friends than anything else, regardless of the difference in our ages.

Contrary to the opinions of some, most gay people are not interested in children as sex partners. We aren’t all out there on the prowl, seeking to molest the first little boy or little girl we come across. For my part, I never once thought of a child in a sexual way before I became smitten with Janelle.

I don’t know what will happen between us down the road, but I’m a realist. I’m more than twenty years older than Janelle is. I seriously doubt that this will last forever. If it does, then I won’t complain, but if it doesn’t, which is much more likely, I won’t hesitate to let go of her, either. But for now, I’m going to enjoy what my niece and I share together, revel in it, and do my best to make sure she knows how much she’s loved.

This all began about six months ago, give or take a few weeks. It was the day before Janelle’s ninth birthday. I’d picked her up after school and brought her back to my place, where we were planning to spend some “girl time” together until her Mom got off work and picked her up. I’d promised to help her paint her fingernails and toenails in preparation for the big day, which fell on a Saturday. She was beside herself with excitement, because she was going to have a big party that afternoon.

Janelle is something of a tomboy, really. Not what you’d call a “hardcore” tomboy, but she’s definitely not a girly-girl, either. She’ll put on dresses and skirts for special occasions, but she much prefers jeans and sneakers. That Saturday definitely counted as one of those special occasions, so we were planning on dolling her up completely, making sure that she looked the proper ladylike part.

We’d done the whole girl thing in the past, but this was the first time that Janelle had ever thought about having her toenails painted. Her mother had bought her a cute little pair of open-toed sandals, and when I mentioned doing her nails, she thought that sounded like a fabulous idea. So there we were on the day before her birthday, sitting in the middle of my bed with bottles of nail polish and a bag of cotton balls. We were chatting and giggling, having a wonderful time.

Janelle was fascinated by the toenail painting process. Her feet are terribly ticklish, so it took a little while to get the cotton balls snugly situated between her toes. She kept squirming, laughing insanely while I tried to wedge the bits of cotton in place. The task finally accomplished, we sat facing each other and I got to work, one tiny foot cradled in my lap as I applied the bright pink polish to her toenails.

I was intent on what I was doing, peering down at her foot as I began to apply the first coat. Janelle suddenly went silent for a few moments. I thought that she was just concentrating on not being ticklish. When she spoke, though, there was a serious tone to her voice.

“Aunt Meagan, can I ask you something?”

“Of course, Sweetie,” I absently replied, carefully finishing the edge of a toenail. “You can ask me anything, you know that.”

She hesitated for a few heartbeats. I looked up at her, and saw that her face was very serious now.

“What is it, Sweetie?” I asked.

“What does “bulldyke” mean?”

What the hell? I thought. Where did that come from?

“Sweetie, where did you hear that?” I asked her.

“From Sarah,” she replied. “See, there’s this girl at school, her name is Sara, too, ‘cept she doesn’t have an “H” at the end of her name. Anyways, most of the kids don’t like her, I don’t know why. She’s really quiet, and she doesn’t hang out with hardly anyone at school. So, today, I decided to eat my lunch at the same table with her and try to talk to her. I feel sorry for her, cause nobody else really likes to be around her cause she’s kinda different. Anyways, after lunch, Sarah — the other Sarah, I mean — told me I shouldn’t hang out with Sara, cause she’s a bulldyke. What did she mean, Aunt Meagan?”

It took me a moment to sort out the rush of words, and to get Sarah and Sara straight. I felt a sharp stab of sympathy for little Sara, who seemed to have earned, somehow, the hateful label of bulldyke.

I took a deep breath, then looked back down at Janelle’s toes, continuing to apply nail polish.

“Well,” I said, trying to choose my words carefully, “that’s a term that some people use to describe gay women.”

Janelle knew already about my sexual orientation. Her parents are quite open with her about things like that, and on those occasions when she’d seen me with a date or with one of my short-lived girlfriends, she’d been curious. So she knew what it meant for a person to be gay. She didn’t seem to have any problem with it, just a natural curiosity.

Apparently, though, she’d never heard some of the more vicious terms for non-heterosexual people. Welcome to real life, Sweetie, I thought.

“But what’s it mean, Aunt Meagan?”

“Uhmm…” I was trying to figure out the best way to describe to a little girl, a day shy of being nine years old, what it meant to be a bulldyke.

“Bulldyke is a stereotype, Sweetie. Do you know what that is?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“A stereotype is when you believe that a certain thing is true of everyone in a group of people. Like, when you say that Irish people drink a lot of booze, or all black people have big lips, or all gay men act like girls, or all Asian people are really smart. “Bulldyke” is a term that people think of when they see a woman who looks like a man. When she’s big and strong, and maybe has really short hair, or acts like a man. Some people, as soon as they find out that a woman is gay, start calling her a bulldyke as an insult.”

Well, that was probably the worst definition I’d ever heard for the term — but then, I’d never been asked to define it before.

“But Sara doesn’t look like a man,” Janelle said — rather indignantly, I thought.

I laughed. God, to be nine years old again.

“I’m sure she doesn’t, Sweetie,” I said. “But she’s quiet, and she doesn’t hang out with the other kids much, right?”

“Yeah. She’s really shy, I think. She just keeps to herself mosta the time.”

“Sweetie, sometimes, when people think that someone is different than they are, they don’t know how to react. For some reason, they’re afraid of people who are different. So, they call them names and insult them. I don’t know why, really; it’s just the way that some people act.”

I had finished with Janelle’s right foot, and I took her left foot in my hand and began to paint her toenails.

“That’s just stupid!” Janelle exclaimed. “When I ate lunch with Sara today, she was nice. She didn’t say much, but she was nice. Why would Sarah say that about her?”

Sarah/Sara again, I thought.

“I don’t know, Sweetie,” I said. “Maybe she got jealous because you sat with Sara and not with her. She might be afraid that she’ll lose a friend.”

“Well, that’s just silly. I can be friends with more than one person, can’t I?”

“Of course you can. I really don’t know why Sarah would say something like that, Sweetie. You’d have to ask her.”

Janelle got quiet again for a few moments. I kept on painting her toenails.

“Aunt Meagan, why do people hate gay people so much?”

This one was pretty easy. We’d talked about this before.

“Because most people are afraid of anyone they think is different, Sweetie.”

“But, why?” she asked, almost desperately.

“Well,” I began, “it’s just how people are. Look, you’re not afraid of snakes, are you?”

“Nuh-uh,” Janelle said, shaking her head.

“But, do you remember when you used to be so scared of them?”

She nodded. “Uh-huh.”

“That was because you didn’t understand them. Snakes are different than you, of course. They’re snakes, not people. You just didn’t understand anything about them. But when you learned about them, and found out that they’re pretty cool, you stopped being afraid, because you understood them better. It’s sort of the same thing. If someone is different, a lot of people are afraid of them, because they don’t understand them.”

I keep a couple of boa constrictors as pets, in case you were wondering why I used snakes as an example. Janelle used to be terrified of them. Now, she has to at least pet both of them every time she visits, and she loves to drape them around her neck now. Snakes make good, low maintenance pets. Toss them the occasional rat, and they’re good to go.

“But, that’s not the same,” Janelle said. “I mean, snakes are animals. Gay people are just people. Why would anyone be afraid of them?”

“For the same reason that some people are afraid of people who don’t have the same color skin as they do. They’re afraid because they’re different.”

Janelle sighed. “I’ll never get it,” she said.

“Honestly, Sweetie, I hope you never do get it,” I said. “I hope you go through your whole life not worrying about how people are different from you, and just focus on how they’re really the same as you are.” I sat up straight. “Okay, the first coat is done. We’ll let that dry, and then put on a second coat, okay?”

Janelle lifted one foot, looking at her toes, wiggling them a little.

“That looks so cool!”

“I’m glad you approve of my artwork,” I said.

She beamed at me.

Janelle is such a beautiful little girl. Even for her age, she’s small and very slender. Willowy, would be a good word to describe her body type. She has a face like the classic faerie, complete with the tiny button nose and enormous, liquid looking eyes. The eyes are her most striking facial feature. They’re a rich, deep, almost cobalt blue color. They’re the most unusual color of blue eyes I’ve ever seen. They dominate her face. When she grows up, they’re still going to be large, and probably even more striking, if that’s possible.

Her soft, fine hair is strawberry blonde, more towards the reddish side. It’s cut in the classic pageboy style, with the ends just brushing her shoulders, and bangs that just touch her slender eyebrows. Her mouth reminds me of Drew Barrymore’s mouth at that age, with full lips shaped like a perfect Cupid’s bow. Her chin is delicate and pointed, and she has a heavy dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Like I said, she’s small, petite and very slender. She still has that boyish figure that all little girls have, but I have no doubt that she’s going to grow into a breathtakingly beautiful young woman one day.

“Aunt Meagan?”

“Yes, Sweetie?” I replied.

“Can you help me find Sara’s phone number?”

I was confused for a moment. She talked to Sarah almost every day on the phone. Then it dawned on me. She meant Sara-with-no-“H” in her name.

“Do you know her last name?” I asked.

“Davidson,” she said, nodding.

“Okay,” I said, “let me get the phone book, and we’ll see what we can find.”

I was curious, but I didn’t say anything.

I went across the hall to my office and grabbed the phone book, as well as the phone. I plopped myself back on the bed with Janelle and opened up the book, looking for that last name of “Davidson.” Thankfully, there were only three listed. Smaller towns have their advantages.

The first try was a wrong number, of course. When she dialed the second number, though, and asked for Sara, she had the right one.

“Is Sara there?” she asked.

“This is Janelle McCarthy, from school,” she said a moment later; then, “Thank you.”

She was silent for a moment, waiting for the other girl to come to the phone. I watched her as she began to speak again.

“Hi Sara! This is Janelle. From school? I ate lunch with you today, remember?”

Another moment of silence.

“Well, I was just calling to see if you wanted to come to my house tomorrow afternoon. It’s my birthday, an’ I’m having a party. And since we had lunch together today an’ you seem pretty cool and stuff, I thought maybe you’d like to come to my party.”

Again, silence as she listened.

“You don’t hafta get me a present,” she said. “I don’t care about that. I just thought maybe you’d like to come and hang out with me for a while.”

There was a longer silence this time.

“You can? Awesome! Okay, it’s at two o’clock at my house, and uhm…” Her eyes rolled up to look at me. “Maybe I better let my aunt talk to your Mom to give her directions? ‘Kay, you get your Mom, and I’ll put my aunt on the phone.”

What an amazing little girl, I thought. I was very, very proud of my niece at that moment.

“Hello?”

The woman sounded slightly hesitant, with a very soft, almost timid voice. I introduced myself, and confirmed that yes, Janelle was indeed having a birthday party tomorrow afternoon, and that she very much wanted Sara to come.

“I… I’m afraid that we wouldn’t be able to get her a gift,” she said, her voice full of apology, and something else that I couldn’t quite put a name to.

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” I said. “Janelle is much more concerned with being a social butterfly than with getting gifts. She just wants Sara to come to the party and hang out with her and her friends for the afternoon.”

Janelle gave me a slap on the leg for calling her a social butterfly, and I grinned at her.

I gave Sara’s mother directions to my sister’s house, and told her we’d see her tomorrow afternoon. I told her to drop Sara off anytime after one o’clock, and that if she wanted, she was welcome to stay, or I could just bring Sara home after the party.

“Thank you, but I won’t be able to stay,” she said. “I’ll have to be at work tomorrow at three, so if you could bring her home, that would be wonderful.”

“No problem,” I told her. “We’ll see you tomorrow then.”

Janelle was tugging on the leg of my jeans, telling me that she wanted to talk to Sara again.

“Janelle wants to speak with Sara again, if that’s okay. It was nice talking to you.”

“Thanks, nice talking to you, too,” she replied quietly.

“Sara? ‘Kay, so you’re coming, right? Awesome!! Oh, and bring a bathing suit or some old shorts and a tee shirt. We don’t have a pool, but my Mom said if it’s warm enough we can turn on the lawn sprinkler and mess around in the water in the back yard, ‘kay? ‘Kay, see you tomorrow! Bye!!”

She pushed the button to turn off the phone and handed it back to me. I looked at her and smiled.

“Janelle, that was a very nice thing you just did,” I said.

She shrugged. “Sarah’s not gonna like it,” she said, “but that’s too bad. I like Sara. Sarah’s just gonna hafta get over it.”

“Well, it was still a very nice thing to do.”

Janelle blushed prettily.

“It’s not a big deal,” she said. “I really do like her.”

“I’m sure you do, Sweetie. I’m just saying that sometimes, it takes real courage to reach out to someone that your friends don’t like. I’m proud of you.”

“Aunt Meagan, stop it!” Janelle squealed. “You’re embarrassing me!”

“Well, if it embarrasses you that I’m proud of you,” I said, “then get used to it. I’m never going to stop being proud of you.”

We spent the rest of the afternoon finishing up with Janelle’s toenails and fingernails, talking and giggling like two little girls. That’s one of the things I love so much about my niece. Sometimes, she makes me feel like I’m a kid again.

My sister, Katherine, came by after work to pick up Janelle. Janelle excitedly told her that there would be another guest at the party tomorrow.

“Another one? Do I know who it is?”

“Nope, you never met her,” Janelle said. “I decided to invite her this afternoon.”

“Sweetie,” I said, “why don’t you get your things together, okay?”

Janelle nodded and ran off to gather up her school books, jacket, purse, and all of the other odds and ends that little girls find indispensable. While she did, I gave Kate a quick rundown about the Sarah/Sara situation, and how Janelle was choosing to handle it.

“Oh, God,” she said. “That Sarah — the one I do know — is a snotty little brat. I really can’t stand that kid, but she’s Janelle’s friend, so I try to put up with her. I can only take her in small doses, though. She really is a supreme little bitch.”

“So I gathered,” I said. “I hope she knows enough to keep her mouth shut and behave tomorrow.”

“Probably not,” Kate sighed. “No worries, though, I can handle her if it comes to that.”

“Good,” I said. “I could handle her, too, but probably not the way that you can. I’ll probably choke her if she gets out of hand.”

Kate laughed. “Now, now. Can’t be beating up on little girls, Meagan,” she said.

“Listen, any nine-year-old girl who calls another little girl a ‘bulldyke’ needs to be throttled,” I said.

“Yeah, I know,” said Kate. “We’ll just play it by ear. Actually, I think Janelle can probably handle it herself, to be honest with you.”

“I have no doubt,” I laughed. “She’s quite the little crusader sometimes. By the way, I’ll be there early to help you with setting things up,” I said. “I’ll be making her cake tonight.”

“She’s going to be so excited that you’re baking her cake,” she said. “I haven’t told her. She thinks I’m going to do my usual cake mix thing for her.”

“You might not be so grateful when you see what I’m doing,” I said, with an evil smile.

Kate raised her hand. “I don’t want to know,” she said. “Just surprise me.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Just don’t get sexual with it, okay? Remember, these are kids, not adults.”

“Oh, please,” I said. “Do you really think I’d do something like that?”

“No,” she grinned, “but I have to give my oversexed lesbian big sister a hard time once in a while.”

“Bitch,” I said, glaring at her.

She snickered. “You’re just too easy to needle, Meagan.”

Janelle came thumping back into the room at that moment, then looked at her mother apologetically. “I didn’t do my homework yet, Mom,” she said. “Me and Aunt Meagan were too busy with my nails. I’ll do it tonight after supper, though, I promise.”

“That’s fine, Baby,” said Kate. “You getting your schoolwork done is not a worry I have. You always do it, and you always do it well.”

“What’re we having for supper?”

“Well, I thought that since tomorrow is going to be very busy, we could start celebrating your birthday with supper tonight, so…” She let the sentence trail off into silence.

Janelle’s huge, cobalt blue eyes lit up. “Pizza? Really?” She squealed out the words.

“Yes, really,” Kate said, laughing. “Pizza. With lots and lots of extra cheese, extra pepperoni, and extra “smushrooms,” just the way you like it.”

“Yessss!!” It was a hiss, and both Kate and I laughed out loud.

“Don’t eat too much, Janelle,” I said, looking her up and down. “Lord knows you can’t afford the extra weight.”

“Huh?” Janelle looked down at her waifish little body, then back up at me. “Cut it out, Aunt Meagan! I’m not fat!”

“No, you certainly aren’t, little one,” I said. “I was being sarcastic. You could stand to put on about ten pounds, actually.”

Kate gave me a look. “You sound like Mom,” she said, smirking at me.

I grimaced. There’s very little love lost between our mother and I. “Don’t even think like that,” I said.

“Too easy, Meagan,” she grinned. “Just too easy.”

I stuck my tongue out at her. Yeah, I’m really mature sometimes. Janelle giggled.

“Okay, we should be going,” said Kate. “Just show up whenever, Meagan, and I’ll put you right to work.”

I followed my sister and my niece to the front door. Janelle made a quick detour into the living room, stopping near the two glass aquariums that hold my pet boa constrictors. Kate gave a grimace of distaste.

“Bye, Ellie, bye, Nellie,” Janelle sang.

The snakes didn’t move. They’d been fed the day before, so they were quite lethargic.

Kate shook her head, but she didn’t say anything. She’d given up making comments about my choice of pets.

“Bye, Aunt Meagan! See you tomorrow!!”

“Bye, Sweetie,” I said. “Try to get a little bit of sleep tonight, okay?”

“I will,” Janelle said.

“Fat chance,” said Kate, smiling.

After they left, I returned to the kitchen, heated up some leftover meatloaf, and made a sandwich for myself. After I’d eaten, I poured a glass of wine, and set to work baking Janelle’s birthday cake.

I have a pretty good sense of design. It’s what I do for a living, after all, and I’d decided to do a special theme for Janelle’s cake. I’m also a pretty good baker, so I was looking forward to doing this for her. The cake would be chocolate, of course, Janelle’s favorite. The motif would probably irk my younger sister, but not nearly as much as the reason I’d chosen it. I grinned suddenly. Kate was going to be pissed off at me, but she’d get over it.

After I’d baked and cooled the cakes, I set about cutting, arranging, and decorating the result. I was pleased. I’d done a pretty good job, actually. Janelle would love it, I knew. Transporting it might be a problem, though. I’d have to find a way to stitch together a box that was long enough and wide enough. I’d figure something out.

By the time I was finished, it was almost midnight, and I was tired. I went upstairs to the bathroom, peeled off my clothes, turned on the shower, and waited for the water to get hot. As I waited, I did a short appraisal of myself in the bathroom mirror.

While I’m beginning to show some signs of the fact that I’m well beyond the wrong side of thirty-five, all things considered, I’m not doing too badly in the looks department. I’m five feet, seven inches tall, and I weigh in at about one-thirty. Not skinny, but not close to being fat, either. I try to work out on a semi-regular basis, and I’ve managed to keep fairly trim looking.

The one thing that I really hate about myself is my hair. My sister Kate has the exact same hair that her daughter does, that luscious, brilliant strawberry blonde that just gleams in the sunlight. I’d ended up with mousy, dirty blonde hair that always looks dull to me. I refused to color it, though. Even professional dye jobs will ruin your hair eventually, and I’d rather have the plain, dull color and keep my hair healthy than ruin it with chemicals. My hair is all one length, falling to the top of my breasts.

Overall, I’m satisfied with my body. I have curves in all the right places, and I have a splendid ass, if I must tell the truth. My breasts are starting to feel the pull of gravity, though. Not too much, not yet, at least. But the sagging is starting to set in. They’re a healthy, 34-C, with bright pink nipples capping the tips. My nipples are rather prominent. They seem to be in a perpetually erect state. While that can be attractive, it can also force me to have to wear a padded bra sometimes, mostly for business purposes. It’s a small sacrifice though, considering that they can be a turn on for some women. Works for me!

I keep my pubic hair trimmed to a proverbial “landing strip” that’s about a half-inch wide, and ends right at the top of the cleft of my labia. I shave there daily, so the skin is as smooth as the day that I was born. The first time that I shaved my pubic hair, I was amazed at how much more sensitive I was to caresses and touches, and I vowed to keep it that way permanently. My almost total lack of pubic hair makes masturbation even more pleasurable than it had been before. And I tend to masturbate a lot.

No, really. I mean, a lot. Like, twice a day at the bare minimum, whether I’m seeing anyone or not. Three times that number on a regular basis. Currently I’m flying solo, so I do spend a good amount of time pleasuring myself. What can I say? I like orgasms…

My legs are passable, slender without being too thin, and not heavily muscled. My pussy is rather girlish looking; by that I mean that my inner labia are small and rather delicate. They don’t protrude into view unless I hold myself open. Otherwise, they’re hidden from sight, much like a young girl. In a sense, it adds a bit of an illusion of youth to my appearance, at least when I’m naked. I rather like that.

Satisfied, I turned to the shower, which was now steaming hot. I got in and reached for the shampoo, washing my hair, then adding conditioner and letting it sit there and soak in while I soaped up my body. I felt the familiar tingling spasm in my belly when I slid my slick hands down over my pussy, and I lingered there for a moment, caressing myself.

Decisions, decisions… Should I masturbate now, or wait until I was comfortably snuggled into bed? Or both? That sounded like a good idea, but I was really tired, and I decided that I’d rather wait until I was in bed, so that I could drift right off to sleep when I was finished. With mild pang of regret, I stopped caressing my pussy, and finished up getting clean.

I rinsed off, rinsed the conditioner out of my hair, turned off the shower, and slid the door open, reaching for a towel. I blotted the excess water from my skin, then wrapped the towel around my head so my hair wouldn’t be dripping down my back. I reached for the jar of body cream on the vanity, and scooped some out, beginning to rub it into my skin. Gotta keep the skin moisturized, you know. Can’t have it drying out on me.

As I massaged the cream into the skin of my breasts, I felt that stab of desire in my pussy again. Jesus, I really was horny! My hands lingered at my breasts, spending far more time than was necessary just to massage in some body cream. I rolled my nipples between my thumbs and forefingers, gasping as I pinched down hard on them. My pussy suddenly felt warmer, damp with a wetness that had nothing to do with the shower that I’d just finished.

Quickly, I finished massaging the body cream into my belly, legs, and ass. When I started to rub it into my pussy, I sagged a little. God, that felt good! I spread my feet a little wider apart, using both hands to massage the cream into my mons. It only took a few seconds for me to be massaging more than just body cream into my skin. My pussy had started to leak, heavily.

I need to get to bed, I thought. Right now…

I pulled the towel from my head, making sure that I dried it enough so that it wouldn’t soak my bedding. I hung the towel on the rack to dry, then quickly padded off to my bedroom. I turned the blankets down, then opened the drawer of my nightstand.

More important decisions… which toy did I want? I have a fairly extensive collection, but I keep my favorites in the nightstand drawer, close at hand. I do try to be prepared for every eventuality.

I settled on a slender purple vibrator with a wired remote control. The wire could be a pain at times, but it has an amazing variety of settings, and it never fails to help bring me to several screaming orgasms. I left the lubricant in the drawer. I was relatively certain that I’d have no need for it. I seldom do, unless deep anal play comes into the activities. If that happened, it would still be close by.

I know, I know. I’m horny and oversexed. A lesbian nymphomaniac, if the truth has to be told. I prefer to think that I just have a very healthy appetite for sex. You should try it. It’s rather fun, and quite rewarding.

I dimmed the bedroom lights, but didn’t turn them off. Unlike some women I’ve known, I’m rather visual when it comes to sexual activities. I like to see as well as touch and taste. I prefer to leave the lights on when I’m playing. Dimming them just makes things look a bit softer, more romantic.

What? Just because I’m flying solo doesn’t mean that I can’t be romantic with myself, does it?

Two walls of my bedroom are floor to ceiling mirrors. That means that pretty much anytime I want to look at what’s going on in my bed, I only have to turn my head slightly to get a couple of different angles on the activity. I’d stopped short of having a mirror installed on the ceiling above the bed, though. It seemed a bit much. I do still toy with the idea now and then. Maybe one day.

I slid onto my bed, my body now tingling all over in anticipation of a soon to be realized orgasm. Or two. Maybe three, even.

I relaxed down into my pillows with one hand behind my head, my hair lying damp on the tops of my breasts. Slowly, lazily almost, I began to trail my free hand lightly down my body, starting at my collarbone and gliding softly over the skin of my breasts, then my belly, my hips, and along one thigh. I felt my skin tighten as goosebumps rose up in response to the touch. Using the tips of my fingernails, I trailed my hand back up along my skin, shivering slightly at the sensation. Almost a tickle, but so much more.

Turning my head to one side, I watched myself as I continued the slow, teasing exploration of my own body with my fingertips. As my nails brushed over my pussy, I felt a wet spot beginning to form on the sheet beneath my ass. I moaned softly, sliding the palm of my hand up along my belly to my left breast. I watched in the mirror as my hand slid up to cup it, still more firm than not, squeezing it gently.

My fingers dug firmly into the flesh of my breast, kneading it, and I moaned again. Bringing my fingertips together slowly, I grasped my left nipple, pinching it hard, then rolling it between my fingers. I pinched down harder and pulled, lifting the weight of my breast up away from my body by the tip of my nipple, and moaned again. My nipples like to be treated roughly.

Still watching myself, I dipped my head downwards, my hand moving under my breast and lifting it towards my face. I opened my mouth, and sucked my nipple in, closing my teeth on it. I stared at myself as I bit down, bringing yet another moan and making my hips writhe on the bed, the wet spot growing larger. I bit harder, the tip of my tongue fluttering over my nipple as I worried at it with my teeth. I felt a sharp spasm in my pussy, and I knew that the first orgasm wouldn’t require the use of any toys.

Panting, I released my nipple from the grip of my mouth. It fell back with a soft slurping sound as my mouth let go. Damn, but I was horny! Of their own volition, both of my hands slid down my body, fingertips pressing down against my mons, sliding down between my legs. I gasped as one finger slid into the cleft, brushing across my clit, already swollen and distended, peeking out from its delicate little hood.

My pussy almost ached with need. I was close already; this was going to happen fast tonight.

I turned my head again as I spread my legs wide, pulling my feet up and dropping my knees sideways so that I was splayed open. I moved my gaze to the wall that faces the foot of the bed, another wall of mirrors. I saw my legs spread almost obscenely wide, my pussy gaping open and glistening with wetness. I put my hands on my knees, and slid them up along my inner thighs. When they reached the top, I brought my left hand up further, settling my first three fingers into the open cleft of my labia, so that the pad of my middle finger rested directly on top of my swollen clit. I moaned again.

The first two fingers of my right hand dipped into my pussy, sliding easily through the wet, slick lubrication there. I gasped, both at the sight and at the sensations, and began to move the fingers of my left hand in a steady circle on my clit. I watched as my hips lifted, bringing my ass up from the bed, meeting my hands and burying the fingers of my right hand deeply into my wet tunnel.

I moaned loudly as I felt the first hard spasm clench my pussy. I was sloppy wet tonight; well, I usually get quite wet anyway, but it was heavy even for me. I could hear the liquid sounds as my fingers began to pummel into my pussy faster and harder. Looking into the mirror, I could see the fluids flowing freely over my hand and down the crack of my ass, soaking the sheet beneath me. I should have brought that towel with me, I thought, then promptly forgot to care about it.

My left hand was moving faster, too, rubbing tight little circles against my sensitive clit, sending wave after wave of pure pleasure through my body. I pressed them down harder, moaning, reveling in the ecstasy that was washing over me in endless, hot waves. I felt the peak beginning to approach, and I groped my way towards it, reaching desperately for the sweet, overwhelming release of orgasm.

I felt it rising from deep inside my pussy, like a hard knot in the pit of my stomach, slowly unwinding itself. My ass clenched tightly as my pussy started to spasm in rhythmic waves, muscles rippling, caressing the fingers that were buried deep within me. The last thing I saw in the mirror before my eyes rolled back in my head was a deep crimson flush spreading over my upper chest and into my neck. I didn’t see anything after that, all I could do was feel…

When it hit me, it was amazing. There’s that old cliche about an orgasm washing over you like waves; this was no wave, it was a fucking tsunami! Dimly, I heard myself moaning, a long, deep growling sound that seemed like it was being ripped from inside of me. My mind lost all coherent thought, I was only aware of blackness peppered with exploding, silvery pinpoints of light behind my eyelids. Talk about fireworks!

It went on and on. My fingers were crammed as far into my pussy as I could force them, almost being crushed by the spasms that ripped through me. The fingers on my clit had slowed, but pressed down with much stronger pressure now; a slow, hard, circular motion against the sensitive, blood-engorged little nub. My body was rigid, arched up off the mattress, shuddering it’s way through this mind-numbing explosion. I only know that I was still breathing because I continued to let out that long, gutteral moaning sound.

It left me slowly, almost reluctantly. I let it do what it wanted; I was incapable of arguing with anything about anything. I didn’t have the energy; even breathing seemed like work at the moment. My breasts were heaving. When I opened my eyes finally, still at the tail end of that orgasm, I glanced in the mirror next to me, and saw that I was still arched up from the bed, body still tense. My chest and neck were deeply flushed. My ass and thighs were quivering from the strain of holding myself up in that position. The sight was erotic as all hell.

Slowly, I let my ass sink back to the mattress. The hand that had been working my swollen clit fell to my side; my right hand stayed where it was, fingers crammed into the wet heat of my pussy. The slick walls were still rippling around them, though the spasms had lightened now, responding to the little aftershocks that coursed through my body, making me twitch and tremble. I rolled my head so that I was looking up at the ceiling and blinked very slowly once, twice, then a third time.

“Holy… fucking… Christ… Almighty…” It came out as a hoarse, ragged whisper.

I was pretty sure that Christ Almighty hadn’t just been fucking me, though that orgasm could have been described as divine. Christian believers will tell you that sex is a gift from God. They might just have something there. Though, most good Christians would probably view my indulging in what they tend to think of as self-abuse with some measure of condemnation. Personally, I prefer to think of it as self-love. Whatever. I was pretty sure, though, that if Christ himself ever did decide to fuck me, even he would have a hard time matching that orgasm. Wouldn’t matter anyway, because I don’t do men. Although if they could make me come like that, I might have to reconsider my position.

Okay, so my mind goes in strange directions when I’m well and freshly fucked. Even when I’m the one doing the fucking. Sue me.

I sighed, and let my eyes slip closed as I slid my fingers from inside my pussy, reluctantly. Automatically, I brought them to my lips, extending my tongue and cleaning the essence of myself from them. I’m not shy about things like that; pussy tastes wonderful, and tasting my own is almost always amazingly erotic. When I had cleaned all traces of my own wetness from them, my hand fell back on the pillow above my head. I was literally spent.

Do I want another one? I wondered silently.

Hell, yes, I did. There’s no such thing as too much sex, and particularly, no such thing as too many orgasms. But that one had exhausted me completely. My body still quivered here and there with aftershocks, but I was completely worn out. My mind felt like I’d just finished drinking a magnum of wine by myself, but without any risk of a hangover. In fact, I was aware that when I woke in the morning, I was going to feel absolutely wonderful.

There would be time enough in the morning to play again. In the morning, I thought. Right now, I just want to float away on this dreamy afterglow and drift off to sleep.

That’s precisely what I did. But for some reason, I found myself with a picture of Janelle’s pretty, smiling face in my mind as I sank into unconsciousness. What the hell? I thought dimly. What are you doing here, Sweetie? It was the last thing I was aware of as I fell into slumber.

Continue on to Chapter 2

By Passing Cloud

Trembling with excitement, I crawled even closer. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to embarrass myself with my inexperience, but I couldn’t miss out on this fantastic opportunity.

I tentatively reached out and put my hand on her thigh, just above the knee. She inhaled deeply, then said, “Can you all see? Come closer if you want.” She lifted her hips slightly as if to emphasise the point and then, to me, said, “Move your hand up, further, right to the top. I’ll tell you what to do.”

The other girls shuffled closer. Kathy focused the torch between Maria’s outstretched legs. Maria moved her hand to her vulva and carefully spread her labia. It was a revelation to me when I saw how wet her pink slit was. I could clearly see the neat lines of her lips, and the bud of her clitoris. I thought it was perfect.

Kathy also showed her appreciation, whispering, “Oh, look at that. Oh God. That’s brilliant.”

As instructed, I moved my hand along Maria’s thigh. Her skin was smooth and soft. I caressed it gently as I inched towards her beautiful cunt. I said the word in my head: cunt. It somehow enhanced the moment for me.

Maria spoke to me again. “Put your finger here.” She pointed to her clitoris.

I carefully placed my fingertip on the glistening point.

“Rub it,” she instructed. I noticed her voice had changed. It was softer, yet breaking somehow, as though she was having difficulty speaking. I understand now. I didn’t understand then. It didn’t stop me from doing what she said, though.

Gently, carefully, I tickled that beautiful bud with the tip of my finger.

I kept doing it when she started to move her hips around, and carried on as she lifted them up, pushing her cunt towards me. She took hold of my hand then, stopping my movements. She sighed heavily again and clamped her legs tightly together. “Ooooh, that feels really nice,” she breathed. “Better let the others have a go, though.”

She kept her legs tensed together for another few seconds, then sat up, more composed. “Sit here,” she instructed me. As I moved to sit next to her, she opened her legs again, affording the other three a clear view of her sex.

“Who’s next?” she grinned.

With what, in retrospect, can only be described as a leer, Nancy volunteered, “Me!” and scurried into place between Maria’s thighs. Without any preamble, she put her hand straight onto Maria’s vulva. I saw her fingers slide into that wet slit and watched breathlessly as she worked her hand along the entire length. Up and down. Long slow rhythmic strokes.

Kathy and Jude edged closer, bringing the torch between Maria’s thighs and highlighting the lascivious detail in sharp relief. Nancy was clearly enamoured. As she caressed and probed between Maria’s thighs, she was constantly murmuring, “That’s lovely. Feel that. God, it’s so wet.”

Maria, still sitting up but leaning back on her hands, turned her lovely face towards me. I could see in the subdued light, on the periphery of the torch beam, that her cheeks were a little flushed, her eyelids heavy.

She looked so beautiful.

To Nancy she said, “Don’t stop,” then to me, closer, her lips almost touching my cheek, “It’s your turn now, Sis. While they’re doing that, take your knickers off. Let me see.”

I felt a moment’s hesitation about exposing myself in front of the others, but that passed. I had already, in my mind, committed myself unreservedly to Maria and so, in an excited rush, I pulled my little pants down and off. I gripped them in my fist as I sat beside her, and my heart raced again as she put a warm hand on my thigh and started to push my skirt up.

Her lips were still close to my cheek, and I could feel her body moving in time to the steady rubbing of Nancy.

I heard Jude say, “Let me have a go!” Nancy, reluctantly I thought, gave way to Jude, but then saw Maria lifting my skirt and, with a grin, moved over to sit the other side of me. Kathy saw too, and shone the torch in my direction just as Maria lifted my skirt above my waist.

I squirmed in the glare of light, turned my head away and squeezed my eyes shut, but when Maria whispered. “Open your legs, Sis,” I did just that. I lay back and wantonly spread my thighs as wide as I could.

Maria leaned over me. I could feel her breath on my face when she spoke. “What a pretty little cunt. Let me feel.” She in turn was still being attended to by Jude, and it seemed that in leaning over me, she’d spread herself open just as wantonly as I had.

Jude, in awe, whispered, “Oh Maria, that’s fantastic. I can see everything.”

I sensed the light move back to Maria as her fingers started to play with my vulva. She stroked my slit gently, and I raised my hips a little to allow her easy access to all of it. She murmured appreciatively, “That’s right. Lift up. Keep your legs open.”

In the background, my sister Kathy exchanged places with Jude. She said to Maria, “Is that all right? Can I touch you here?”

Maria, maintaining her stroking of my slit, turned to Kathy. “Do what you want. Put your fingers inside if you like.”

I heard Kathy give a little appreciative, “Oh, yes,” as Maria turned back to me.

Maria probed a little between my tight lips, rubbing and tickling. It felt so, so good. Then she found a particular spot which, as she touched it, made me gasp — and my hips jerked in a reaction I couldn’t control. I felt, rather than saw, her smile. “Is that nice?” she asked, concentrating her attention on that one spot.

I managed to reply, “Yes. Yes. Don’t stop. Please!”

Then Maria turned to Jude and Nancy. “You can feel my tits if you want, while Kathy’s doing that.”

Jude replied, “Me first!” and I heard her scrabbling across the mats to indulge.

Nancy, in control of the light, first played the beam between Maria’s legs so she could watch Kathy’s fervent fingering, then scanned up her body to gaze in envy at Jude, stroking Maria’s lovely breasts, and then to my stretched thighs where Maria was giving me her delightful attention.

For me, though, heaven was descending. The feeling between my legs was getting more and more intense. I couldn’t speak. I know I was lying almost rigid now, my mouth agape, eyes staring into nowhere. All I understood was that my darling Maria was giving me such pleasure, such a feeling — like nothing I had ever known or imagined. On and on, she moved her fingers until I couldn’t feel them anymore. Not like fingers. Not like a part of someone, just a wonderful, wonderful feeling. Growing, growing, and then, and then…

I heard myself cry out. I couldn’t control it or stop myself. My back arched violently. My hips thrust high into the air. I was pushing upwards with all my strength — stretched, convex, heaving, balanced on my shoulders and heels. Great waves of ecstasy tore through my tiny body. I heaved, I moaned, I stared wildly at Maria, who was smiling at me as her fingers continued to play.

“How does it feel?” she gently asked as my first orgasm ripped me, bared me to my soul.

I tried to reply even as wave after wave of pleasure engulfed me. My mouth opened and closed. Guttural noises issued. I tried to smile my pleasure, my joy — but another wave hit me, and another, and my back arched again. My hips trembled and heaved.

My first orgasm. I remember it so well. It makes me wet even now to think of it, to think of Maria, my first love. My first lover.

I don’t remember much about us getting dressed and moving out — back into the ‘real’ world of sunshine and innocence — but we did. We all managed to compose ourselves and go about our normal business. Although I know I spent most of that afternoon in a dream state, rerunning those events again and again. The wonderful feeling that had almost overwhelmed me left a residual warmth and tingling between my eager young thighs, and a fantastic state of well-being throughout my whole body.

The main thing, though, was the turmoil in my mind. It wasn’t confusion, or apprehension. I wasn’t upset in any way, I just wanted more: more of that fantastic physical sensation that my lovely Maria had given me, more of those subtle longings that had so excited me as I watched her strip, as I inspected her nakedness, as I touched and stroked her secret places.

The walk home with my sister was strangely subdued. It was as though the sudden extreme intimacy we had shared ‘under the stage’ should be confined to that place: a secret, not something that should be brought into our routine lives.

Later that night, however, as we lay in bed in our shared room, Kathy whispered in the darkness “You know, today…”

“Yes…” I responded.

“When Maria did that to you…”

“Yes?”

Did it really feel that nice?”

I paused before answering, reliving the moment again in my mind. “It was fantastic,” I eventually replied.

Another pause, then, “Will you show me what she did, Sis? I saw her hand between your legs, rubbing… and then you started jerking around and I couldn’t really see what she was doing.”

“I’m not sure,” I replied, “she tickled me in a special place, right on my button. It felt different.”

The room was quiet. I could hear Kathy breathing, she was obviously waiting for me to carry on.

Finally I whispered, “Do you want me to do it to you?”

In a small voice — it seemed unusual for my big sister to sound so meek — she replied, “Okay.”

It was a warm night, so I quickly slipped out of bed and quietly padded across the room to where Kathy was waiting. I was wearing pyjamas, but I could see, as I sat on the edge of her bed, that Kathy was wearing a nightie. Well, not actually wearing it. She had pulled the bedclothes to one side and drawn her nightdress up to her chin, so in effect my elder sister was lying there naked.

I looked at her body, gleaming in the half light. Her skin seemed pale, almost blue. I let my eyes wander the length of her torso. I noticed the slightest hint of budding breasts and then, further down, her slit — hairless, like mine. She looked young, much younger than Maria, even though they were nearly the same age.

Nevertheless, I realised that I was enjoying looking at my sister’s body. I had never really thought of her in a sexual way before (not until earlier today), but there I was, about to do things to her which I really didn’t understand, things that were so personal and intimate that I had to catch my breath as I thought about it. The same feeling started to grow in my ‘cunt’ as it had earlier with Maria.

I was aroused.

I gently placed my hand on her belly. She flinched, but didn’t move. Her eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted and expectant.

As I started to move my fingers across her skin, I realised with a thrill that I could do what I wanted to this naked girl’s body. It didn’t even matter that it was my sister. It was as if I was watching this scene, slightly detached from it, and could therefore study it more intensely. I savoured the freedom with which my fingers roamed across her belly, up to her chest, tracing the lines of her ribs as she wriggled her torso under my gentle tickling.

“Don’t move,” I gently instructed. To my delight, she held still, her back slightly arched and tensed.

“It tickles,” she murmured, her eyes still tightly closed.

“It’s supposed to,” I lied, enjoying this power over my big sister, relishing her strange compliance. “That makes it better. See how long you can stand it.”

So I started this new little game, a game within a game. I don’t know where it came from, but the excitement and arousal I was feeling grew suddenly much more intense as I delighted in being in control, of bringing a little sumptuous torment to my naked, submissive sister.

With the lightest of touches, my fingers played all over her exposed skin. My right hand wormed its way to her nipples, my fingers working rapidly — tickling, tickling. My left hand, working in a similar way, crawled lustfully down to her thighs, tickling again along that sublime little crease that lies in a little girl’s groin, formed by her vulva and thigh.

I stroked along the soft skin on the inside of her thighs and, with the faintest of caresses, like a breath, touched her lightly on her tiny, tight slit.

She opened her eyes then, as a little gasp escaped her moist lips. “Oh!” She stared blankly for a brief moment, as though concentrating on something invisible; something in her mind’s eye. Then, with a sigh, she closed her eyes again.

I whispered, “Open your legs, Kathy.”

She instantly stretched her thighs wide, drawing her heels up almost to her buttocks. Her hips were slightly raised. “That’s it, that’s it,” I said. “Like that. Now don’t move.”

I ran my finger along the length of her slit and bent my head closer, so I could see better what I was doing.

Kathy’s raised hips and stretched legs revealed her to me completely. For the first time, I could see my sister’s anus in complete detail. Strangely, this excited me even more — such a personal, private place. I wanted to touch her there as well, but thought it might be too intrusive and so held back.

I concentrated on her slit.

On her ‘cunt’.

That word again.

Parting the smooth lips with my finger, I continued to rub her. I felt warm wetness as I sought out her ‘button’ and started to play with it.

It wasn’t long before we had set a rhythm. It just seemed natural. The fingers of my left hand caressed her clitoris in time with the undulations of her hips, while my right hand squeezed and stroked her nipples — first one, then the other.

It wasn’t long before Kathy appeared to be approaching the state that I’d reached earlier in the day. Her hips were raised higher, the movements more pronounced. She licked her lips, her breathing more rapid. She started to moan — a strange helpless mewling, like a kitten.

I giggled, couldn’t help it, then carried on with glee, a broad grin on my face. I was doing this to my sister, giving her this fabulous feeling just as Maria had done for me. Maybe Kathy would worship me afterwards, like I did Maria.

I kept going, faster.

Kathy started to heave, and her moans became louder.

Still grinning, I hissed, “Ssshh. Don’t make so much noise!” Remembering how Maria had questioned me in my helplessness, I cruelly asked, “How does it feel? Do you want me to stop?”

But unlike me, Kathy managed a reply. “Don’t stop. Keep doing it. It feels… it feels…”

Then she exploded. I was aware that I was seeing this from the other side. She was completely helpless, completely in my power as she convulsed and heaved beneath me. She clamped her thighs hard on my hand, but I still managed to work on her clitoris — tweaking it and rubbing it as, through lips pressed tightly together, her stifled moans inflamed my lust.

She flung her legs wide as I continued, then squeezed them back together, then wide apart again. Her head rolled from side to side and her hands twitched and flapped as her orgasm slowly, slowly  subsided. Eventually she calmed down.

I removed my hand — trailing a warm and sticky track across her belly as I did so.

She pulled her nightdress down, lay on her side and drew her knees up to her chest. We were both silent for a few moments. Her breathing grew quieter. She turned her face to look at me. A shy smile appeared.

“Next time you should take your clothes off, too,”

She couldn’t see as my hand moved under the bedclothes, slipped inside my pyjamas and felt my wet vagina. She didn’t know that my mind was awash with images of her and Maria, of naked young bodies, slick wet slits, smooth, wide-open thighs. She couldn’t see how, that night, I masturbated for the first time.

Continue on to Chapter 3

By Passing Cloud

{ This story was originally posted at Lesbian Lolita in November 2012 }

It was many years ago that I attended primary school. My sister Katherine, who is three years older, was at the same school. We walked there together every day. In those days it was safe to do so. Unusually, I think, we got on well. She looked after me, and I respected and admired her. We were forced apart in classes by our respective ages, but always met up at lunch times. Her regular friends tolerated me at first, but after a while it just became accepted that I was part of the group and so I became affectionately known as “Little Sis,” and then simply “Sis.”

Childhood drifted slowly by, lazy hazy days of navy knickers and knee socks, laughter and innocence.

Then she arrived.

I was seven and my sister ten when we found out that a new girl was starting after half term in my sister’s class.

It was lunchtime of that first day, back when I met her. She had instantly become the focal point of Kathy’s group, and as I joined them in the playground she stood out like a beacon.

Her name was Maria B.

Half Italian, she had long, black lustrous hair; large, deep brown eyes; full red lips, and she was half a head taller than any of us. I was tiny by comparison, and looking up at her she seemed more like a woman to me than a girl — especially since, and I stared in wonder, she had breasts. Looking back, I suspect they weren’t as huge as my idealistic memory suggests, but at the time they seemed enormous. Ten years old with breasts! I was fascinated, entranced and, quite simply, smitten.

She noticed me staring at her and her eyes widened, a broad smile showing her gleaming teeth lit up her face and, with a rich, exotic accent she said, “Hello, little girl. Who are you? You are so pretty.”

Her tone was so kindly, her expression so warm, “smitten,” immediately became “in love”. It is true to say that from that moment, and for the next year and a half, until she moved on and out of my life, she was the centre of my universe. I worshipped and adored her, followed her around, tried to copy her mannerisms, even attempted to talk in her accent. She was my goddess and I would do anything for her. Imagine my delight, then, when I was invited to be one of her “special” friends.

A few weeks after that first day, as I was walking home with Kathy, my sister suddenly said, “What do you think of Maria?”

Surprised by the question, I stammered a little in my response. “I… I like her. She’s really nice.”

“She likes you, you know,” she paused. “She says you’re sexy.”

My heart leaped in my chest, my stomach churned, I felt myself flushing red… but not with embarrassment. I knew what sexy meant. Even at age seven. Little girls talk, you know, and they aren’t stupid.

“She says you can come under the stage tomorrow, around dinner time.”

Now I understood what “under the stage,” meant. In the school main hall at one end was a timber stage (typically used when the Head was holding assemblies or for plays and pantomimes and the likes) enclosed all round with boarding, but with an access door into a crawl space where gym equipment — mats and other apparatus — was stored. So going “under the stage,” meant precisely that. What I didn’t understand, however, was the implication.

So I said, “What for?”

Kathy came closer to me as we walked along and, leaning over, whispered in my ear, “Promise you won’t tell anybody?”

“Yes. Promise.” I was all curiosity now.

So Kathy continued, “Last time we did gym, we put the mats back under — me, Maria, Nancy and Jude — and Miss Kirk,” (the sports mistress), “left us to lock up. So we were in there for a few minutes on our own. We could see all right, ‘cos the door was open a bit and we were just messing about and laughing, and then all of a sudden Maria just said, ‘who wants to see my tits?’ Just like that. She just came out with it.”

I was at once shocked and excited. Shocked that my beautiful heroine could be so rude and forthright, yet excited to think about what else might be happening in that murky secret place ‘under the stage’.

“What did you say?” I asked in hushed awe.

“Well. We all said we did. Who wouldn’t want to see them?” she replied.

“So did she show you?” I gasped.

“Yes. She just lifted her blouse, pulled her bra up and let us have a good look.”

I was speechless for a moment as I tried to visualise this wonderful little tableau.

Eventually I asked, “What are they like?”

Kathy answered simply, “fantastic!”

Suddenly I was wracked with envy, so jealous that my sister had been so intimate with the girl that I adored that I felt close to tears. All was put right, though, when Kathy went on, “She reckons she can get the keys tomorrow morning, and we can sneak under and spend all dinner time there. And if you come too, she says she’ll strip off and let us see her with nothing on.”

I gasped in amazement. “Really? Nothing at all?”

“That’s what she said.”

My mind was racing now as it played strange erotic games. Between my little-girl legs, something was stirring. A welcome warmth.

Kathy continued, however. “And she reckons she’s got hair,” she nodded towards my crotch, “you know, there.”

Again my mouth opened in wonder. I thought of my own tight little hairless vagina. How childish I must seem to someone like Maria. I felt pathetic and inadequate, but filled with a fervent desire to see Maria naked; to see her breasts and pubic hair. I couldn’t imagine any more detail, but I was determined not to miss this opportunity.

“Anyway, she says you’re sexy,” Kathy carried on. “She likes your face and your bum, she says, and she wants you to come too.”

I was overjoyed and could hardly contain my excitement as I eagerly nodded, “Yes, I’ll come.”

But Kathy hadn’t finished yet, saying, “And she told me to ask you if you’ll take your knickers off for her. She said she wants to give you a feel.”

Now this was different territory indeed. I hadn’t even considered anything like it, even in my fantasies. My dreams of Maria had been romantic idylls at best — although I mostly saw myself as some sort of unworthy servant — being treated kindly, maybe stealing a kiss here and there.

I had never been touched intimately by anyone, other than my mother at bath time (so I knew a little of sexual pleasure — but that’s another story), and I was nonplussed by this development.

Confused but excited, I asked Kathy, “Why? Wouldn’t she rather do that to you or one of the others?” I thought about Jude and Nancy. They were both pretty. And sometimes they’d said things which suggested they’d already done something similar. Jude in particular, on one occasion, had said she’d been ‘fingered’ by her brother. I didn’t really understand fully at the time, but got the drift, I think.

“No,” Kathy replied. She sounded almost despondent. “Maria says she likes them little and smooth. What should I tell her?”

Suddenly elated, I grinned at Kathy and said, “Tell her she can do anything she wants!” and then I skipped all the way home.

That evening passed in a silent frenzy of anticipation. Although I slept soundly (as far as I can remember), the next morning — especially during lessons — my mind was in similar turmoil. I can remember my inability to concentrate and was, unusually, berated by the teacher for, “obviously not listening.”

Eventually it was dinner time, and I literally raced to meet my sister and the others (one other, especially).

To my absolute and utter delight I saw, as I raced around the corner of the main hall, the little group complete. Kathy, Jude, Nancy and, dominant in her statuesque beauty, Maria.

She saw me running towards them and beamed at me. Her beautiful lips uttered words I’ll never forget. “We’ve been waiting for you, Sis. Do you want to see what I’ve got to show you?”

Beaming back, I nodded vigorously, and so Maria took my hand (I was almost in ecstasy now) and, glancing around to make sure no-one was watching, opened the side door to the hall.

We slipped inside and headed straight for the stage.

I didn’t know how she’d got hold of the keys, and didn’t ask. I was just glad she had as she unlocked the low door and, glancing cautiously round again, ushered us inside.

Locking the door behind us, we crawled into the middle of the space under the stage. Equipment was scattered around, but there was a reasonably sized area of open space where the gym mats lay. We flopped down on them and slowly allowed our eyes to accustom themselves to the low light.

Jude said, in a slightly disgruntled tone, “It’s a bit dark.”

“It’s a good job I brought this, then,” said Maria, and from her shoulder bag pulled out a large metal torch.

Jude giggled as Maria switched it on and flooded the space with a strong beam. Reaching across me (her breasts tantalisingly brushing my shoulder), she handed the torch to Kathy. “You hold it, Kathy.” My heart was racing. “Point it wherever you like while I do it.”

The next few minutes were some of the most memorable of my life. I watched in stunned fascination, my hand unconsciously pressing on the ‘hot spot’ between my legs, heart racing as the gorgeous Maria, my love, my mistress, at ten years old the queen of my universe, took off her clothes.

First she unfastened the buttons of her blouse and peeled it off — a little awkwardly in the confined space — and she was soon sitting there in her bra. I remember it was white, that’s all. Transfixed by the sight of her partly undressed, I stared at the swell of her breasts standing out in the sharp light of the electric torch. She paused for a few seconds, pushing her chest out.

“All right?” she asked. “Can you see okay?”

Invisible nods and a couple of choked affirmatives, spluttered in the dark outside of the torch beam, encouraged her to continue.

I saw her fingers hook underneath the front of her bra, noticed a little smile appear on her face, and couldn’t help myself gasping in delight as she lifted it, stretched and pulled it over her head, then sat back and caressed, squeezed and then cupped those beautiful firm orbs in her hands as she held them out for us to inspect.

Again she asked, “Is that all right?” Again, frenzied nods and strangled yeses.

She knelt up then, and started to work on the buttons of her skirt. My eyes, which had been desperately following the movement of her breasts, inspecting the glorious detail of her erect brown nipples, were now drawn to the activity of her busy fingers.

In seconds she had loosened the waist of her grey pleated skirt and dropped it to the mat. Sitting back down, she lifted her legs together and drew the skirt off. She quickly slipped her shoes off as well so now she was wearing only her white knee socks and a pair of white pants — really rather brief for a girl of ten, I now realise.

She knelt up again so we could see her better.

Cupping her breasts again, she said, “If you want, when I’ve taken my knickers off, you can take it in turns to have a feel.” I swear I nearly fainted with excitement.

Sliding her hands across her abdomen like some sort of elfin striptease artiste, she hooked her thumbs in the waist of her pants and, glancing up into the torchlight, said “Ready?” and then slid them down to her knees.

She quickly sat again, lifted her legs and slipped them off.

She was naked now apart from her socks, which she kept on. Instead of kneeling up, though, she stretched out on her back, opened her legs and said in a low voice, almost a murmur, “Shine the torch on my cunt. Have a good look.”

I knew the word. I knew how rude it was. I was surprised to hear it, but it seemed right. It made the moment more ‘rude,’ more ‘dirty,’ more erotic. Oblivious now to the other, older, girls, I leaned forward until my face was just inches away and stared in unbridled joy at the patch of hair between her thighs. It was the most excited and aroused I have ever been, and I loved it. I loved her.

She said, “Do you like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” I replied.

She stretched her legs even wider and said, “You can have first feel if you want.”

Continue on to Chapter 2

By Dirty Girl Sara

I felt like I had been dreaming when I woke up and felt Sara’s supple hot flesh against me. For so long I had fantasized about making love to my daughter and showing her the pleasures of girl-love but I never really thought it would happen. I had always loved women, marrying only for the image and benefits of the contract.

Always in the back of my mind I would dream about having sex with girls, seducing them, making love to them, teaching them, touching them, feeling their bald pussies bucking against me as I made them cum and feeling their small innocent tongues lapping at my pussy juice. It was a hunger that could never be fully quenched. It was a fire that could never really be put out. I always wanted more.

But most of all I wanted my daughter. To me she seemed like a perfect angel, sweet and innocent and developing into a beautiful young woman. I would lay awake at night fingering my pussy to multiple orgasms imagining her mouth on my breasts and the taste of her young pussy while I made love to her. Every time I looked at my daughter, I lusted after her wishing it was her who was climbing into my bed every night and keeping me warm instead of my own fingers and toys.

And then last night it happened. I had needed to go to the toilet while Sara was in the shower and when she got out one thing led to another. I fingered her right then and there with her skin so slick and hot from showering. She had never orgasmed before, and knowing that I was her first only made it more exciting for me. I brought her to the heights of her pleasure four times last night with my tongue and with my fingers.

She had been an avid learner, obeying my every lesson, licking where I told her, sucking the way I instructed and doing everything so perfect. She loved bringing pleasure to me as much as she loved what I did to her. Finally after several hours of exploring each other’s bodies, and multiple orgasms, she fell asleep in my arms.

And now all I could think about was the ten-year-old girl that she tutored in school, wondering what she had in mind. I couldn’t wait to find out. I taught eighth grade at one of the local middle schools and I also volunteered at the Catholic girls school. I think subconsciously I took those jobs to be around young girls all day and into the evening.

Still dreamy, I opened my eyes and grumbled when I looked at the clock. We were going to be late. I shook Sara awake and felt myself get juicy when she smiled up at me, all sleepy-eyed and pouty. I leaned down and kissed her warm lips and jumped when she responded so passionately. She wrapped her arms around me and before I knew it we were making out like long lost lovers, our hands roaming all over the other’s body, teasing and touching while I pushed my tongue into her mouth and she willingly sucked on it.

With a mind of its own, my thigh opened Sara’s legs and pushed against her already wet sex and she willingly dry humped my leg while we made out. She moaned and rocked herself against me as her body responded. Her nipples were hard against mine which were aching for attention. My whole body cried out for sex.

I never knew I could be so insatiable and I only wanted more knowing it was my sexy, loving, nympho daughter I was going to have sex with. Within seconds were having passionate lesbian sex in a ’69’ as she straddled my head and pushed her sex into my face.

“Suck my pussy, Mommy,” she whined. “I need to feel you licking me. Please lick your baby girl’s cunny. Make your little girl feel good. Ohhhhhh, yeah, Mommy. Make me feel good. That feels so good. Stick your tongue between my pussy lips, Mommy.”

She lowered herself down and started running her tongue between my soaking wet lips in a maddening teasing fashion while her fingers strummed my clit. I was aching for more.

I spread my legs and humped upward, my body begging for more. Finally I couldn’t take it anymore. “Suck my pussy, Sara! Make me cum or you’ll be in trouble! Fuck your mother, you little lesbian mother fucker.”

She squealed with laughter and then stuck her head between my legs and started sucking me in earnest.

“That’s a good girl,” I cooed. “Mama takes care of good little girls.”

I pulled her down and licked and sucked on her pussy. Then I pulled away and licked my right index finger before opening her firm butt cheeks, exposing her virgin ass which flinched inward.

“What are you doing, Mommy?” she asked in a surprised voice when she felt my tongue teasing her brown asshole.

“Mommy’s teaching you,” I said, as I licked around the rim of her ass and then slowly pushed one of my fingers into her. She moaned and I nearly came when I felt her tight sphincter squeeze my finger.

“That’s a good girl. That’s a good girl. Relax and enjoy it, baby.” I went back to licking her pussy while I finger fucked her ass, and before I knew it she was rocking back and forth pushing my finger deeper into her dark bowels.

In minutes we were both cumming. My lips were latched onto her clit while my finger drove into her ass. She exploded in my mouth, drenching me with her girl juice. I came almost at the same time while she strummed my clit and stuck her tongue deep in my pussy.

That was just what I needed in the morning.

She rolled off of me and we both giggled looking at each other.

“Did you like that, baby?” I asked as I kissed her, tasting my juices on her face and lips.

“I loved it, Mom!” she said excitedly.

“Good,” I smiled. “It’s supposed to feel good. Sex is supposed to feel good. Now that you like having my finger in your ass we’ll try it some more later. Maybe we’ll use toys back there.”

“I’d like that,” she sighed. “I never knew I would love sex so much, Mom. I mean, I’ve masturbated and I’ve touched myself. But last night when you made me orgasm, my god, I felt like I never wanted to stop. After that you just kept making me cum and cum and cum and I just wanted more and more. It was like a thirst I couldn’t quench.”

I chuckled and kissed the tip of her nose. “Now you know how I feel. I masturbate three to six times a day at least. At night, after you go to bed, I’ll lay here on this very bed and play with myself through five or six orgasms. I have a huge dildo that stretches my cunt and I love how it fills me up. I have lots of toys that I use and I’ll just lay here and cum and cum and cum, baby.”

Sara laughed. “Well, maybe now that you’ve made me into your lesbian lover, you’ll let me help Mama quench that thirst. Maybe you’ll let me help you cum.”

“Ohhhh,” I said, filled with love as I looked at her, all cute and innocent, embarrassed to have asked that. “Of course baby. Now that we’re lovers you can touch me anytime you want. And I’ll touch you anytime you want baby. I want you make you feel good.”

Sara kissed me on the mouth and looked me in the eyes. “I love you, Mommy.”

“I love you too.”

Thirty minutes later, I was looking in the mirror, and couldn’t help but smile at what I saw. I was wearing a black skirt that stopped just short of the knees and a white blouse. I wore a gold necklace which set off my fair skin rather well and a gold ring on my right middle finger. Underneath, I was dressed rather naughtily with black silk stockings and garter belt. My black thong and low cut bra were matching and I wondered what the other teachers at school would have thought if they knew how I was dressed. My red hair was swept up off of my neck and I wore just a touch of makeup to add color to my fair skin.

All in all I was a picture of wholesome America… except for the fact that I was a wanton nympho who craved young girl flesh.

Sara was dressed too, and when we kissed before we left for school we almost ended up having sex again in the kitchen. She was wearing a plaid skirt and tight sleeveless sweater with her red hair down over one shoulder. She didn’t wear stockings but she had a better tan than I did and with better-formed legs, I thought. She was the picture of wholesome innocence, which was the exact reason why I wanted her body so much.

It took a lot for me to not lay her down on the floor and fuck her right there but we walked out the door, me with shaky legs and Sara with a grin on her face because she knew what was going on inside me.

We got into the car silently and I started to drive her to school. She turned to me and grinned an evil smile. “You wanna fuck me, don’t you, Mom?”

“Yes!” I said louder than I planned to.

She laughed. “I know. Me too. I got wet just seeing you dressed like that, knowing that when I get home tonight we’re gonna have wild sex again.” She grinned and then got quiet again. “Mom? Tonight I want you to fuck my ass. In the shower I played with myself and fucked my ass with my finger but it wasn’t enough. I want you to stretch me back there.”

I nearly squirted in my clothes in the car. “Okay honey,” I said through gritted teeth. Sara couldn’t know the amount of sexual tension I was feeling just then. “I’d love to do that.”

Five minutes later, we were at her school. Sara leaned over and kissed my cheek and then hopped out. I watched her shake her ass as she walked away. I could feel my pussy oozing as she turned around and smiled and waved before walking into the school. I knew I would need to take care of business before I got to work and drove like a madwoman to a shopping center that hadn’t opened yet.

I parked behind the stores and slid my seat back, looking around to make sure nobody was around. I hiked my skirt above my waist and pulled my thong to the side, exposing my wet pussy. I could feel my muscles quiver. My fingers moved expertly to my clit and strummed it while my pussy leaked its juice. My other hand moved down and I began to finger-fuck myself to quicken the orgasm, moving my fingers in and out of my wet hole while I played with my clit.

All the while my eyes were closed and I was picturing myself fucking my young daughter and the student that she was tutoring. In no time I was orgasming like crazy fantasizing about a little ten-year-old mouth on my clit while my daughter rode my face. I fucked myself through three orgasms, all mind-blowing and all to the same fantasy.

Finally, I sat back in the car, gasping, trying to catch my breath while I licked my fingers clean. I pulled some wipes out of the glove compartment and cleaned myself off before pulling my skirt back down and taking a deep breath. I silently hoped that would hold me over until I got home. If not I was going to be in trouble for the rest of the day.

The first part of the day I was able to control myself reasonably well. None of the teachers even suspected what I was thinking, though one looked at me with a grin when she saw how I was dressed. She was cute and in her early twenties. Cheryl had just graduated college and started teaching fifth grade.

By lunchtime I was sweating it. I knew I was in a bad job with my proclivity to want to fuck every nubile and attractive student who came by. I thought about dodging into the women’s room and masturbating again but didn’t want to risk it. That was a sure way to lose my job. I would just have to tough it out.

By one in the afternoon, things had settled down and I was thinking I was in the clear. I was teaching eighth grade English and the class seemed to be going okay when I looked up and saw Angela out of the corner of my eye. She was a cute girl, just budding into a young woman with small mounds for breasts. She was wearing a short skirt and when she crossed her legs it rode up to her mid thigh.

Her hair was a light brown that she kept back in a pony tail and the sweater she wore was just a little too tight to be innocent in my mind. I could picture her on my desk with her legs spread while I tasted her sweet nectar making the young girl cum for the first time. She was thirteen and I wondered if she had ever thought about girl-love before.

I almost lost my train of thought but kept trucking on. Angela was one of my problem students who couldn’t seem to grasp the lessons. I pushed the thoughts from my mind and continued to teach. This was my last class before a free period when I would have a chance to tutor students who needed extra help, or grade papers and such.

It took a lot of effort but I made it through the lesson and finally the kids were streaming out to go to their next class. Before I knew what I was doing I called out Angela’s name as I sat down at my desk.

She had a fearful look in her eye as she stood before my desk. I didn’t know what I was going to say now. It was like my pussy had a mind of its own and it was calling the shots. But there she stood, looking all cute and innocent in her skirt with her hands folded before her while she bit her bottom lip in fear.

“I can see you need some help in class,” I said as I looked over some of her work.

“Yes, Ms. Smith. I’m having trouble understanding everything that we’re talking about,” she admitted with a look of embarrassment on her face.

“It’s okay, child. We all need help every now and then,” I said with a reassuring smile as I moved the chair out and leaned back, crossing my legs, watching her. Her eyes dropped to my legs but then she looked up again, blushing a little. My heart skipped a beat. “Would you like some extra tutoring?”

“Oh yes, Ms. Smith, I would. I think it would help, and I appreciate it.”

“No problem.”

I looked around. “Come sit over here at this desk,” I said, pointing to a desk in the corner that could not be seen from the door. It was the most private area in the room. She looked at me, kind of wondering why I had picked there but didn’t say anything as she walked over and sat down.

I sat next to her in a classroom seat, making my skirt rise up to the tops of my stockings, exposing my garter straps. I pretended not to notice this, but I could see that she could see. She seemed curious and a little excited by seeing that. I grinned to myself, thinking that this was just what I needed today. Silently I wondered if Sara might like her too.

About ten minutes into the tutoring, I placed my hand on the small of her back, and she didn’t move so I felt emboldened. I moved closer to her and as I would lean across, touching her hand to turn a page, I would feel her flinch. I smiled inwardly to myself at this. I knew I would be making my move soon.

“So, how are things at home?” I asked.

“Oh,” she said. “They’re okay I guess.” She shrugged. “You know how it is sometimes.”

I smiled knowingly. “Yes, I do know how it is sometimes. My daughter is about your age.”

“Oh really?” she asked, perking up. “What’s her name?”

“Sara,” I said with a smile. “She’s growing up so fast now,” I said with a sigh. “Sometimes I think she’s growing up too fast.”

“That’s what my mom says.”

“Sara’s asking about boys and… well… you know, sex, already.”

“Is she?” she asked, disbelievingly, but I could see through it and knew that she had been thinking about that too.

“Yes,” I said with a nod. “She’s even asked about girls.”

“Girls?” Angela asked with a confused look.

“Yes, girls. Sometimes girls kiss and touch each other, and she’s asked me about that.”

“Really?” She bit her lip again the way she always did when she was thinking about asking something.

“Have you ever wondered about girls?”

“No,” Angela answered too quickly. “Well, I mean, I’ve never asked anyone about it, but yes I’ve thought about it.”

“How so?”

She seemed embarrassed, and I put my hand on the small of her back again and massaged lightly, reassuringly. “Have you ever touched another girl?” I asked.

She didn’t answer.

“I remember when I was your age, we’d have sleepovers and sometimes we would practice kissing each other. Other times, we’d touch ourselves in front of each other. Have you ever done that?”

“Well. Sometimes. We show each other… you know… our private areas. At the last party we practiced kissing and everyone laughed at me because they said I was too into it,” Angela said with a shrug.

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” I said with a reassuring smile.

I started to tremble a little. “You know it’s very natural for girls to be curious about things like that. So, you know what it’s like to kiss a girl your age…” I smiled, “would you like to know what it’s like to kiss a grown woman?”

“But won’t we get in trouble?” she asked.

“Only if you tell someone.”

I put my arm around her. I could feel her chest rising and falling rapidly as she breathing excitedly. “It has to be our little secret, okay?”

She nodded, with a huge smile on her face.

“Okay then.” I looked around as if checking to make sure nobody was watching, and then I smiled at her. “Now close your eyes and purse your lips.”

Angela did so, sweetly enough to make me want to jump her right there. I leaned in and kissed her lightly on the lips. I could feel her tremble and hear her breathing ragged as my lips touched hers. I pulled back an inch and then gave into temptation and ran my tongue along her lips, lightly touching them. She moaned and I smiled to myself.

“All right,” I said in a husky voice. “Now open your lips a little and push your tongue forward ever so slightly. That’s it. Now just keep your eyes closed and do what feels natural to you. Let the pleasure lead you.”

I pressed my lips to hers and she opened her mouth and I pushed my tongue in. She jumped when she felt our tongues touch, and moaned as I put my hands on her shoulders and started to explore her mouth with my tongue. Her tongue touched mine again and before I knew it we were kissing passionately, our tongues intertwining and dancing with each other.

After a few minutes, we were both breathing heavy and my thong was soaking wet as I pulled away and looked at her. She was blushing red and gasping for breath. I smiled at her. “How did you like that, Angela?”

“I liked it, Ms. Smith,” she said breathlessly. Her eyes were shining and she was staring at me.

“Good. How did it make you feel?” I asked as I moved closer to her. I could feel the heat of her skin through her clothes as I pressed my thigh against hers and wrapped my arm around her back and held her close to me.

“It made me feel funny,” she said, embarrassed.

“A good funny or bad funny?” I asked as I rubbed the small of her back.

“A good funny. I could feel my panties getting wet and I felt this funny feeling deep in my belly. It felt really good but I’ve never felt that way before.” She blushed and looked away shyly.

I smiled at her, and she jumped when I put my hand on her thigh. I could feel the heat through her skirt as she slightly shook. “That’s normal, Angela. That’s called arousal. When you’re kissing or touching and it feels real good, you get wet between your legs. Did your nipples get hard?”

She nodded her head. I reached up with a trembling hand and run my palm over them. Yes, they were hard. She shivered and moaned. “Did that feel good?”

“Yes, Ms. Smith,” she said in a whiny voice with a look of need in her eyes.

“Good,” I said softly. “It’s supposed to. Would you like to see what else feels good?”

“Yes, Ms. Smith.”

I brushed her hair away and ran my tongue up her neck to her ear, lightly nibbling and kissing. She whimpered at the sensation as I nibbled on her ear and lightly ran the palm of my hand over her nipples. They were as hard as little diamonds in her thin bra. She was so aroused just from my touch as she clenched her thighs unconsciously.

I gently pushed her legs apart and massaged her warm inner thigh just below her panties, carefully not to touch her there. No, I would take my time and savor deflowering her. She moaned and gasped as I kissed her neck and toyed with her nipples and hot skin until she was panting.

Looking into her eyes, I pressed my lips to hers and kissed her passionately, snaking my tongue into her mouth which she openly accepted and wrapped her arms around me as we pressed our bodies together. After a few moments, we broke apart and looked at each other. I could feel myself dripping as my nipples ached for attention.

“You are a very pretty young girl,” I said to her. “You have the makings of a fine woman, Angela. I think you’d make an excellent pupil for my special lessons. Lessons which will open your eyes to much more than the school books here.”

I bent down close to her ear and she shivered as I said, “Much more than you ever fantasized about in that pretty little teenage head of yours.” I then licked her ear and she whimpered, shaking. I looked at her again. “Would you like special lessons?”

“Yes, Ms. Smith,” she said, looking down.

“Good.” I checked my watch. It was time to go home for the day. “I drive a black Ford Fusion. Wait for me there.”

Angela got up and gathered up her books on shaky legs. She was still blushing as she walked to the door and then turned around with an uncertain look on her face. I smiled and nodded my head, prodding her along. A small smile crept across her face as she turned and hurried away.

I rushed around to clear off my desk and prepare it for the next morning. My own legs were quivering and I was exploding in excitement barely able to contain myself. I rushed out the door with my briefcase and nearly bumped into Cheryl who was walking by. I felt a shimmer of guilt and fear as she looked at me with a knowing expression but then brushed it aside. The corner of the room was well hidden; there was no way she could have seen what had been going on. As I walked away I could feel her eyes burning into my back.

A few moments later, I was at my car and I smiled warmly at Angela who had been waiting there, nervously playing with the hem of her skirt. She returned the smile and we both got in and I drove away. She looked over at me but didn’t speak. I didn’t know quite what to say so I remained silent as well.

“Do you like younger girls?” Angela asked in a soft, meek voice as we approached the secluded park where I planned our rendezvous. I thought for a minute before responding.

“Well, Angela. I won’t lie. I’m very attracted to younger girls. You have softer bodies, more enthusiasm with learning about girl love and you’re fresher.” I smiled at her. “But you’re special, Angela. You have the face of an angel and to be quite honest, I’ve fantasized about you for a long time.”

“Really?” she asked, surprised at the statement.

“Yes,” I said with a nod. “I’ve always been attracted to you. You have the cutest face and your lips have always seemed to kissable to me.”

“Wow,” she said, basking in the attraction and attention. I don’t think anyone had ever told her that. She beamed from ear to ear, blushing in a combination of fear, expectation and excitement.

Within a few minutes, I backed the car into a secluded part of the park where I was sure we would not be interrupted. We were miles from the walking track and the biking trails and we were under a bunch of trees away from the road. We would be sure to have privacy here.

I looked over to Angela and she seemed fidgety, unsure of the situation, maybe even a little fearful. I smiled and laid my hand on her arm reassuringly.

“It’s okay, Angela,” I said with a smile. “Do you remember how good you felt back in the classroom? When I was kissing you and touching your breasts?”

She nodded.

“Imagine that, only a hundred times better. There’s so much pleasure in girl love. You only need the right teacher to open that door for you.” I moved closer to her and silently started massaging her warm thigh through her skirt, looking at her. She responded with excitement, not fear, which encouraged me.

“I can tell you like it, Angela,” I said with a knowing smile. “I can tell you want more.”

She nodded her head and stifled a sob of need as she looked at me.

“I love young girls, like you,” I said, moving my hand up higher under her skirt, feeling the heat of her skin. “So innocent, so fresh, so ready to learn. Your bodies are so supple and ready for the pleasure of girl love.”

I leaned in and licked her neck and she moaned, opening her legs subconsciously. “Mmmmm,” I said as my fingers passed over her panties. My heart was pounding. “Your panties are wet. I can tell you like it. I’m going to teach you things you never thought possible. I’m going to make you love sex so much. You’re not going to be able to get enough.”

Without warning, my hand started massaging her pussy through her panties and she moaned, gasping as I expertly strummed her clit while my mouth sucked and licked her neck and ear while she squirmed. I held her down and she responded to me, humping my hand that was sending shockwaves of pleasure through her body.

“Pull up your sweater,” I commanded in a husky voice.

She wordlessly obeyed, showing me her erotically plain white bra with hard nipples poking through the fabric.

“Mmmmmm. So nice looking,” I whispered as I moved my other hand to her tits and passed the palm over them, feeling their hardness. “So firm, so young. So ready to be played with and toyed.” I massaged her tits through her bra and tweaked her nipples, causing her to squirm even more.

“Ms. Smith,” she squealed. “What’s happening to me? I feel like I’m going crazy. Oh my god, I’ve never felt like this before.” She was trying to climb out of the seat but she couldn’t away from my hands which were manipulating her young nubile body. The scent of both of our sexes permeated the car as she moaned and gasped toward her first orgasm.

“Hush, child,” I said soothingly. “What you’re feeling is completely natural. Close your eyes and relax. Just let your body feel it, baby. You’re gonna love it.” I rubbed her clit with more force now as I licked her neck, savoring the feel of her plush skin. Her nipples were hard as diamonds and sensitive as I pinched and pulled on them while she approached her first orgasm.

“Ms. Smith!” she cried out with a horrified look on her face.

I kissed her hard on the mouth and then whispered. “Let go, baby. Let go. Cum for me. Cum for me, baby!”

And she did. Her eyes closed and her whole body shuddered and spasmed while she moaned into my mouth. She was so ripe and fresh I could feel her sex pulsing as she experienced her first orgasm.

She continued to shake and moan with her eyes closed as I relaxed my work on her clit.

“Mmmmmm,” I purred. When Angela opened her eyes I was grinning at her and I kissed her softly on the mouth, trailing my tongue along her sweet red lips while she caught her breath. I nibbled on her ear and smiled as she shivered, the sparks shooting through her body.

I slowly slid her panties down her hips and past her knees while she silently watched, pliantly obedient to my need as I stripped her nether region. I grinned up at her and said, “You asked my before if I liked younger girls.”

I looked into her eyes. “The truth is I love younger girls. I can’t get enough. You look so fucking sexy in your little skirts and tight fitting tops with your pert young tits. You make my pussy so wet just watching you in school. I love young girls. It’s like a hunger for me.” I kissed her hard on the lips. “And I’m hungry right now.”

She moaned loudly and lifted her ass off the bucket seat when she felt my tongue on her clit but I couldn’t be stopped. She tasted so sweet as I ate her pussy with a frenzy. My face was coated her with her juices as I sucked and bit on her clit, sucked on her pussy lips and tasted every inch of her. She groaned when she felt my tongue push deep inside her love hole and wriggled around while my finger strummed her clit. In no time at all she was gushing, orgasming again while I firmly held her ass cheeks in place. I sucked up all of her sweet nectar as she experienced her second orgasm.

Languidly and slowly, I licked now, toying with her clit as I moved a finger inside her cunt and massaged her inner walls. She was like a ball of clay, silently enduring the pleasure that I brought her. My pussy was nearly gushing like a river as her cunt muscles tightened on my fingers while I fucked her. In and out my fingers went as her pelvis moved to meet every thrust while my lips sucked on her clit.

She was moaning again as another orgasm rolled over her I sucked and fucked through it until she lay against the seat, spent and tired, whimpering quietly, unable to move. I moved away from her pussy and licked my lips, savoring the taste. She opened her eyes and looked at me, dazed, confused, and I smiled.

“Lick my face clean, baby,” I told her. “Taste your own pussy on my face while you kiss me.”

She did so and it felt so good to feel her young tongue on me, lapping up her own pussy juices. I ended it with a kiss, snaking my tongue into her mouth which she readily accepted and wrapped her arms around me.

“How did you like it?” I asked with a grin.

“I loved it, Ms. Smith,” she replied, breathlessly.

“I knew you would.”

I smiled and leaned back in the seat and unbuttoned my blouse and then undid my front clasp bra, freeing my aching breasts. She stared at them and I smiled. I moaned and arched my back while my fingers lightly toyed with them. My nipples were so hard and so sensitive. I turned to her. “Do you like them, Angela?”

“They’re beautiful, Ms. Smith.”

“I’m glad you like them. I love my breasts.” I rolled my nipples between my fingers, sending shivers down my spine right to my pussy. “You can touch them.”

It felt wonderful to feel her hands on my tits, weighing them, massaging them.

“Play with my nipples, I said urgently, as I hiked my skirt up past my hips and pulled my panties to the side. “That’s it baby. Now pinch my nipples. Yes, like that. Roll them between your fingers. Harder. Harder. Harder! Yes. Pull on them. Mmmmmm, you’ve got me so wet, Angela.”

I smiled wickedly to her while my hand lightly run up and down my pussy, getting it nice and wet while my hips moved in slow sensual motions.

She watched, mesmerized. “You’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen,” Angela whispered. I chuckled and moved down in the seat.

“Lean down and suck on my nipples baby. Lick and suck them,” I told her. “While you’re sucking on my tits, look down and watch how I play with myself baby. I want you to see how to pleasure yourself. That way tonight, when you’re lying in bed, you can touch yourself like this and make yourself cum over and over again.”

Wordlessly, she leaned down and tentatively licked my right nipple.

I moaned as the moistness of her tongue hit my nipple and I pulled her head down, moaning. In a second, her lips were wrapped around my tit and she was sucking on it like a hungry baby. “That’s a good girl. Suck mama’s nipple. Be a good girl and feed from mama.” The nasty talk seemed to egg her on as she sucked harder and harder.

Her eyes trailed down as I started to finger myself. Maneuvering so I could use both hands while she was playing with my tits, I got down to serious business. My pussy was sopping wet and I was in dire need of pleasure.

Without wasting a moment, I thrust two fingers into my waiting hole and moaned loudly as I felt my muscles contracting around them, gripping them. The sound of wet sex could be heard as I fucked myself hard and fast, driving my fingers into my cunt. I started to play with my clit with my other hand and soon my ass was off the seat while I fucked myself through my first orgasm.

“Mama’s cumming! I’m cumming! Watch me cum! Oh, yes suck my tits while I cum!” I exploded with cum juice running down the crack of my ass while my cunt tightened on my fingers and my clit exploded with every stroke. It felt so wonderful with her small girlish lips sucking on my tits.

“That’s a good girl,” I said as I continued to play with myself, forcing the orgasm on, feeling the waves of pleasure continue to flow through me, all through my body. “Such a good student. I knew you’d be this good. I could tell, baby. So sexy and so beautiful. So sweet tasting. Your lips feel so good on my titties. Mama’s gonna be good to you. Mama’s gonna take care of you baby.”

My second orgasm came without warning and it rolled through me for I don’t know how long until finally I lay spent on the car seat, the fabric soaked with my pussy juices.

When I opened my eyes, Angela was looking at me, her eyes gleaming. “Wow,” was all she said.

Then, in a meek voice, as if afraid of being denied, she asked, “Can I taste your pussy juice, Ms. Smith?”

I smiled and help up the two fingers that had seconds before been deep inside my cunt. She sucked the sticky juices hungrily, lapping them up and sucking on my digits. It felt so good.

“Mmmmmmmm,” I said as I looked at my watch. It was almost five and I knew I needed to get home. I saw her begin to pout as I moved my thong back over my pussy and rearranged my skirt to cover my legs.

I smiled at her. “This is just the first lesson, Angela. The lessons will become more enjoyable if you want to continue to learn.”

“Yes, Ms. Smith!” she nearly yelled. “I’ve never felt so good before. I can’t even describe it. My god, the pleasure was so intense. I want to have sex all the time now.”

I chuckled. “Good.” I started to button my blouse back up. “You can touch yourself the way I did any time you want. You can strum your little clit or you can finger-fuck yourself. Either way feels very good. Experiment with it. Do both at the same time, or maybe play with your young breasts while you masturbate. It all feels good. You can even stick on your fingers into your tight little ass.”

“Really?” she asked. “My ass?” She didn’t believe it.

“Yes, your ass,” I answered with a chuckle. “It feels real good. It’s so sensitive. It feels even better when your playing with your clit or your pussy and you’re fingering your ass.”

She looked at me disbelieving and I just laughed softly.

The whole drive to her house was spent talking about sex. I explained to her the different ways to play with herself. I even taught her to squeeze her thighs together and relax them until she experienced a mini-orgasm. With a mischievous grin she told me that she would try that at school. I smiled at her and could feel my pussy starting to moisten again. I also told her how to masturbate in the shower with a massaging shower head or different things that she could use to fill her pussy up. Angela drank it all up and I knew she wouldn’t ever be able to get enough.

Finally we were outside her house. “Just tell your parents that I was tutoring you after school.”

She nodded and smiled.

“Remember Angela,” I said to her, “this is our little secret. Nobody can ever know about it.”

She nodded, looking me right in the eye.

“If I find out you’ve told anyone about this, I will be very very upset.”

She is so pliable, I thought, as she looked at me and nodded. “Yes. Ms. Smith. I promise.”

I watched her walk into her house, and then pulled away for the drive home. Sara was waiting for me.

THE END