The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I.

The little coffee shop buzzed and bustled with the noise of cups striking the granite countertops of the serving station, the intermittent ringing of small steel bells above the wood-framed glass door as new customers entered or customers with filled orders departed, the continual buzz of conversation, voices, mostly female voices, suddenly lifting into a quick laugh or cry of humorous protest before descending again into that common stream of general conversation, that monotonous but pleasant traffic of light delivery trucks freighted with small, insignificant talk, for the most part.

Female Mystique, the name of the coffee shop attracted a mostly feminine clientele, needless to say. Linda Fitzhugh regarded the owner of the shop, a recent addition to their Friday afternoon gathering at Mystique, with that suspicious-but-not-altogether-hostile appraisal her friends loved to roll their eyes at.

“Relax, Linda, she’s perfectly harmless,” they said, trying to placate her, to smooth those feathers so easily ruffled by the intrusion of strangers. “She’s so interesting, and she’s been everywhere.”

Not particularly endearing characteristics, Linda thought to herself ruefully. How exactly does not being able to stay in one place make someone interesting, for goodness’ sake?

But her friends won out, and last Friday, no, the Friday before last, Ms. Catherine Henderson joined their little table in the corner of what turned out to be the woman’s own shop, taking her place beside Sharon Peters and Judith Minard.

“I’ve seen you three coming here for weeks, for over a month in fact, and I’ve just been dying to meet you,” Catherine shrugged. “But I’m just so shy, you know. If it weren’t for Sharon here, I’d never work up the courage. I just hate meeting new people. I feel so damned awkward.”

“Nonsense,” huffed Sharon, her hair rolled above her head in that odd way of hers, in rolling waves that tapered towards the neck, pulled up from the back and around the ears, giving her already angular face with its long, hooked nose and sharp, piercing green eyes a pronounced bird-like appearance.

The undisputed leader of the tiny group, her voice alone carried the matter of adding Ms. Henderson to the table.

Linda sighed. She couldn’t see what Catherine, Ms. Henderson, had to feel awkward about.

It was Sharon who had picked out the small coffee shop, nestled toward the end of a short retail strip off a major thoroughfare, a place Linda ordinarily stayed cleared of. Oh, but once you got inside! Reality far outstripped meager expectations there. Wood furniture, a rich and darkly polished register and order station, with glass cases covered rolls dripping with honey and frosting and huge freshly baked cookies faced the customer upon entry, while to the left, round tables spaciously spread out, neatly topped with chrome napkin holders and sundries, waited for occupants—if they weren’t already filled. Three booths on the far side of the coffee shop, along the wall occupied by the barista station, completed the seating for customers and staff on break.

The bittersweet pungent aroma of ground coffee filled the air, along with the fragrance of various spices familiar but somehow unnamable to Linda. Hazelnut, of course, nutmeg, too she thought. Oh! And they served coffee in real cups! Pinch me now, Linda had first thought at the glorious sight of large, white, friendly cups and mugs she wouldn’t be caught dead having in her own home, but here, here, they played wonderful and appropriate part.

Female Mystique had won over Linda Ware without so much as a word of protest—good grief, was that a folded napkin keeping the table next to her from wobbling? Could they not at least sweep the crumbs of muffins gathering under the tables like mutinous conspirators? The whole place, now that she thought of it, smacked of, well, not dinginess. Linda couldn’t tolerate dinginess. Lassitude. Bohemianism.

Linda sighed again. Oh well. Who said Linda Bernice Ware couldn’t rough it from time to time?

Altogether, she had to admit, this Catherine Henderson woman had managed to put together a cozy little place.

Although why her little group of friends should so interest her, well, that again would probably remain a mystery. After all, neither Sharon Peters, at 41 near Linda’s own age of 45, with her tall, thin, bird-like manner, or Judith Minard, the youngest of the trio at 38, a short woman with raven dark hair and rosy cheeks, nor she herself, a nondescript woman, petit, small in every way really, with lusterless light brown, almost blond hair reaching to her shoulder and usually pulled behind her head in a tight bun, offered anything to the observer’s eye as anything other than unremarkable.

She could not say the same thing of Ms. Catherine Henderson herself.

No, that woman positively reeked of everything Linda was not: impetuosity, thrill-seeking, adventurous, maybe not reckless but something damned near it. Alluring, exuberant. Carnal. Close to the roots of things or rooted somehow into herself. Linda gave up. That kind of thinking didn’t suit her, and she knew it.

Linda couldn’t deny that the woman was beautiful, in her dark and voluptuous way.

She let her thick, dark brown hair, lighter than Judith’s raven hair, hang loose in natural long and flowing curls down her shoulders, parted in the middle of her head, set off so stunningly by pronounced cheek bones, wide brown eyes, thick sensual brows ascending sharply above the nose before turning in a slow arc over her eyes. Her lips, always parted in conversation, were full and thick, her teeth gleamed, and her chin came to a round point.

She looked at Linda friendly enough, but from time to time Linda caught a haughty expression, or one filled with a mocking superiority, which sent shivers down Linda’s spine. But the expression would pass, leaving Linda wondering at her own disquietude.

Linda couldn’t also deny that she didn’t like it. Not one bit.

But Sharon had her way, and Linda held her tongue, and after the second Friday of the woman joining their small group, making their trio into a quartet, Linda couldn’t remember what it was exactly that she didn’t like about Catherine. Nor even that she hadn’t had actually liked her at the outset.

Conversation had gotten livelier, that was for sure, not exactly risqué (Linda wouldn’t have abided that) but filled with a certain innuendo Linda could never quite put her finger on and soon gave up trying to.

“That’s when I told Ted,” Linda found herself talking about her husband to the women around her, which is something she had never dared to do previously, “if you don’t—“

Then a young couple, a pair of women, or rather, a youthful woman and a teenager, walked through the door, and Linda, catching the sneering look in Sharon’s eye, turned around to see who or what had caught her friend’s attention.

Charlene Draper and her daughter, a little wisp of a thing, walked up to the counter while looking around them. The daughter held the mother’s hand as they walked, leaning into her with an affection Linda’s own daughter Lacey rarely exhibited nowadays. Both wore matching outfits, short blowing blue and white skirts, and cute, sleeveless tops exposing a little of their midriffs.

Charlene saw Catherine. A brief smile of recognition played upon the corners of her mouth, but she quickly turned away, squeezing her daughter Mindy more tightly to her.

“They make such an adorable couple,” Catherine Henderson said softly to the table.

“Well,” Sharon huffed again. “They certainly are close. I’ve heard. No, I’m not even going to mention what I’ve heard.”

“What have you heard?” Linda asked, turning back to Sharon.

“Well, you know how that Jennifer Hopkins, she’s Susan’s daughter, just turned eighteen, works at Lily and Pad,” she turned to Catherine, “they sell just the cutest outfits to girls, my Becky bought me a blouse from there the other day, and I almost wore it today.”

Sharon shook her head.

“But it was just so, so. Revealing. I don’t know what got into my Becky to buy me such a thing. Oh but it really is quite lovely.”

The others waited patiently, and Sharon soon got back on track.

“Well, Susan called me not more than a week ago, and she told me that her Jennifer told her that she saw them going into a changing room together.”

“Well, what’s wrong with that?”

“Susan claims that Jennifer heard, well, noises.”

“What kind of noises?” Judith Minard asked, her high voice peeping up.

“The kind of noises that shouldn’t come from a changing room with a mother and her daughter inside it.”

“I don’t understand,” Judith replied.

“Oh do grow up, dear. Bedroom noises.”

“Oh.”

Judith’s rosy cheeks turned even redder.

Linda bristled with rage.

“You mean to tell me, and no one said, and now they’re just walking around like, and nobody says, well, anything?” she hissed.

Catherine’s voice rose above Linda’s outrage.

“Oh, rumors are just rumors. I’m sure that daughter of your friend’s only imagined things. Besides, what’s there to say? What can any of you prove?”

Catherine paused and stared at the rest of the table, rather accusatorily.

Linda stirred uncomfortably in her chair, feeling judged and found wanting.

At last Catherine relaxed, shrugged, and turned to look at the mother and daughter standing in front of their barista.

“Still, mother and daughter incest. It gives you something to think about.”

Linda jerked visibly at the use of that word.

“Please,” said Linda, closing her eyes and throwing up her hands, “can we talk about something else?”

II.

Week Two, Friday: At the Coffee Shop

III.

The women at Female Mystique looked a little haggard, a little bleary-eyed as they gathered at their favorite round table in the corner by the window. The eyes of Sharon and Judith both sported deep red bags no amount of makeup could cover, and Linda realized that she too probably carried the same bags under her own two pale blue eyes. Only Catherine sat at the table, brimming with life, her face shining and fresh, youthful and vibrant.

Conversation at the table lagged at times and suddenly lunged forward to once again fall into the strange, subdued awkwardness so unlike the four of them. Even Catherine couldn’t quite keep spirits up; something weighed on the group, something nobody seemed willing to talk about, and Catherine let the matter drop. She laughed suddenly and pulled a small bottle from her purse.

“Look what I brought back from the trade show I went to Thursday,” she said.

The others looked at the small object in her hand with an almost palpable disinterest.

“It’s a food additive, a new kind of flavoring for coffee drinks, a new kind of creamer substitute, but all natural,” she explained, ignoring her friends’ indifference. “You only need a few drops.”

She uncapped the top, looked at Judith, who shrugged. So Catherine poured a few drops into Judith’s cup. She did the same to Sharon’s cup, but Linda held a hand over her cup. She hated creamers and flavorings for her coffee.

“Oh go ahead and try it, Linda dear. If you don’t like it, I’ll get you another cup of coffee.”

Linda relented. She had no reason not to.

After all, Catherine and Sharon had been right about the potpourri.

Catherine dribbled a few drops into Linda’s cup, recapped the small bottle and put it back into her purse.

A few minutes later the mood lifted at the table, conversation surged ahead, and everyone found themselves laughing at Catherine’s little jokes.

“That’s stuff’s not bad, is it,” she asked the group.

The group shook their heads, then nodded, not knowing which movement quite expressed the right answer.

But Catherine understood the agreement.

She leaned forward conspiratorially and whispered.

“Between the four of us, I’ve been told that drinking it can make you more than a little horny. That could get a little addicting.”

Then she leaned back.

“Just a little something to think about. Hogwash, in all probability. Still, I’m sure all of us can stand to use a little excitement down there. Here, why don’t you all take some home with you?”

Before they left, Catherine gave them another surprise.

“I’m have a little pool party next week, Saturday. I’d love to see all of you there. If you can’t go, I understand, but it’s something to think about you know.”

IV.

Linda felt restless all weekend long, her body sizzled, and her, well, her area down there fairly spouted; she felt damp and warm all time, an unusual feeling for her. She stopped thinking about sex, sexuality, her body years ago, after it became apparent that Ted made no further demands upon her than to climb on top of her every two weeks or so, flop up and down a little bit, and, just at the point where Linda began to feel a stir, just at the point where Linda’s legs drew up to enclose her husband, he’d grunt and discharge his duties. After it became apparent that she no more wanted the man or it any more than the man seemingly wanted her. Or it.

Oh, they had a good life together, she knew that.

And she never found a reason to complain.

Her body never betrayed her, and she kept it fit for some reason, never wanting to decline in the way so many of her friends had declined, in the way that Judith threatened to decline if she didn’t start watching her weight and restricting her diet. If something lacked, it lacked so far below her surface she had no need of it.

But now she paced her house restlessly, all week long, and the images of Charlene and her daughter blasted through her mind without let up, and Linda found herself spending whole hours of the afternoon on the sofa, trying not to think about the mother and daughter and how horny she was all of a sudden.

Lacey seemed happier.

She’d spent another Saturday hanging out with Allison and her friend Monica, whom Linda still hadn’t met.

Next Saturday they’d have a pool party at Catherine’s house.

That was definitely something to think about.

A puzzled expression flashed over Linda’s face.

Why? Why was it something to think about?

Lacey even started hugging her goodnight again, which Linda welcomed with a puzzled gratitude.

That Saturday morning, the Saturday after their Friday coffee shop gathering, Linda sprinkled a few drops of the flavoring Catherine had given them, for both her and Ted.

We could all stand to use a little excitement down there.

It might be good for the old boy, she thought to herself, suddenly giggling.

“Hm?” Ted asked, looking up from his tablet.

“Drink your coffee dear.”

But if the flavoring had made any impact on Ted, she couldn’t tell.

Thirty minutes later Ted had gone out, leaving early to go to the hardware store, and Linda sat at the kitchen table alone, her groin suddenly flaming up.

At that moment, she heard Lacey bounding down the stairs and into the kitchen.

Incest. Mother and daughter incest is something to think about.

Stop it, she told herself, but her groin tingled as she looked up to see her daughter, to see Lacey standing in front of her wearing a tight, lacy, cream-colored pajama top with spaghetti string for sleeves, short enough to expose her belly button, and a pair of tight, lacy shorts, also cream-colored.

Charlene Draper and her daughter Mindy were heard making noises in the changing room, Linda Ware suddenly thought to herself. What kind of noises? Bedroom noises. What kind of noises were bedroom noises? Sex. Sex noises.

Charlene Draper and her daughter Mindy were heard having sex in the changing room of Lily and Pad.

Incest.

Mother and daughter incest.

Something to think about.

Linda was a mother, and Lacey was her daughter. If she thought about it—

“Mom?”

Lacey’s question startled Linda from her thoughts.

Her top is tight enough to show off her breasts, Linda realized. As small as they are.

Linda’s groin grew hot. She could feel the moisture collecting down there.

Linda stared at the nipples showing faintly behind the fabric of Lacey’s top.

“Earth to Mom,” Lacey said, “Where’s Dad?”

“He went out,” Linda breathed out, her throat dry.

“Do you mind if Allison and Monica swing by later?”

“Of course not, honey. That’s a new outfit.”

“Allison picked it out for me. Isn’t it delicious?”

Lacey swirled around, placed a hand on her thin hip, and swung her bottom to the side. The lace hem of the shorts rose, showing the bottom of her cheeks, the crease between back of her thigh and her ass. Her petite butt.

Mother and daughter sex. Something to think about. Charlene and Mindy.

Lacey and me.

A new wave of disgust washed over her; another pit of nausea formed in her gut at the very thought.

Stop it, she commanded her mind. Stop thinking about that.

And even as the nausea spread through her gut, a new surge of warmth blasted her leaking groin.

You could use a little excitement down there.

“They’re a little tight, aren’t they?”

“Mom,” Lacey replied, her tone remonstrating, dismissive. “They’re called boy shorts. Aren’t they just too cute?”

Lacey turned around and wiggled her butt again.

“Besides, who’s going to see them but you and me?”

Did any of her swimsuits still fit her?

V.

Linda quickly rose from the breakfast table, leaving the kitchen area to her daughter.

She rarely played with herself.

She rarely touched herself down there.

But that morning, left by herself, she slipped out of her bath robe she’d been wearing and flopped on her bed.

Self-consciously, almost shyly, she began to trace the fingers of one hand towards her swelling lips, keeping her legs barely parted.

When she touched the hard knob of her clitoris above her slit, she gasped. Moments later, she cast her legs wide, plunging her hand, her fingers deeper into the slippery folds of her pussy.

Her other hand went to her tit, still covered in a thick white bra.

She slipped her fingers under the cup, rubbing her nipples hard.

Her head turned side to side as her body grew hotter and hotter.

Mother and daughter incest.

Suddenly the image of Charlene and Mindy draper in the throes of sex filled her mind, followed by rapidly moving images of her daughter in her pink boy shorts, swaying the round convex of her cute ass at her.

Linda groaned with a mixture of self-loathing, disgust, and heat as her climax approached.

We can all stand to use a little excitement down there.

Then Linda came, lifting her hips off her bed to thrust against her hand in one final shock of orgasm.

VI.

The rest of the week passed the same way, with Linda fighting her thoughts every hour of the day.

She began each day by sprinkling the flavored cream substitute into her coffee.

It makes you horny, and it could get a little addicting.

That was something to think about, Linda supposed.

Just how horny the flavoring made her.

Just how addicting the flavoring could be.

Is that why she drank it every morning, she wondered.

Why I’m so horny all the time?

She was, too.

She was so horny.

Every morning, every afternoon, every evening she masturbated now, her body charged with a sexual need.

Her mind was filled with thoughts of mother and daughter incest, although she fought very hard to think of her own daughter, her sweet, sweet Lacey, in that way.

Charlene and Mindy.

Mother and daughter incest.

It was something to think about, Charlene and her daughter Mindy having sex.

At a pool party, maybe?

And every night before she fell asleep, with Ted already snoring beside her, she slipped her fingers below the hem of her panties, and she brought herself to a shivering climax, the image of Charlene and Mindy, her daughter, filling her mind.

And sometimes Lacey.

God help her, sometimes Lacey.

Week Three, Friday: At the Coffee Shop

VII.

That Friday at Female Mystique, both Judith and Linda looked even more haggard and bleary-eyed, but Sharon radiated with energy and verve. She had changed her appearance drastically. Gone was the bundled hair atop her head. She’d had it styled and darkened to an almost jet black like Judith’s hair, with jagged bangs running low across her forehead, concealing her eyebrows, while the rest of her hair swooped forward, framing a face brightened by makeup.

She resembled a rock star from a bygone era.

Her lips gleamed in glossy red lipstick, and heavy dark mascara and eyeliner outlined her brilliant green eyes.

Both Judith and Linda wanted to protest, to claim that Sharon looked ridiculous, but their breath was taken away by the shirt their long-time friend wore.

A very sheer black blouse, long-sleeved with lace hems and cuffs, a black lacy bra showing underneath, covered the top half of her body. She squeezed her hips into tight denim jeans, faded to light blue. Heavy black boots, of all things, covered her feet, low on her calves.

Sharon stared at her friend’s bust, unable to take her eyes away. Her tight, sheer brassiere pushed her two globes together. By no means large, Sharon’s bust was fuller and plusher than Linda’s, who shared her daughter’s slender and modest figure.

Sharon’s nipples showed hard and clear beneath the sheer fabric of the blouse and lacy bra. It could not possibly have been a decent thing to wear in public, but the fact remained undisputable.

She had worn it in public and continued to do so.

While her two friends just gaped at her.

“Do you like it,” Sharon asked playfully, “My daughter, Becky, had bought at Lily and Pad. She just loved it when I tried it on and showed it to her in the dressing room.”

Judith choked on her coffee.

“It’s a little revealing, isn’t it?” asked Linda doubtfully.

“Oh it’s just us women here,” Catherine interrupted. “No big deal unless you’re a lesbian. Hah! All three of you could be lesbians for all I know. Something to think about I suppose. Here, have some more of this. I told you it was addictive, didn’t I? Might even get you horny enough for other women.”

Here Catherine snorted.

“Hah, just kidding. Still, food for thought, you know. Something to think about, that is.”

Linda, Judith, and Sharon, turning to Catherine, nodded at her with glazed eyes. Then Linda turned away to say something to Sharon. But her eyes drifted to the outline of Sharon’s breasts encased in the black lace bra.

A shiver of excitement tingled in her pussy.

Lesbian?

It was something to think about.

The talk turned to nightwear, something that made Linda nervous and shy.

But both Sharon and Catherine insisted it was a good idea to wear nightwear at night, even around the house, outside of the bedroom.

“Might push some blood into the old boy,” Catherine said.

Linda blushed.

“It’s something to think about, at any rate. Something revealing and sexy. Just wearing it around the house. It might feel, well, good. Liberating. Empowering. Sexy.”

The three women let the words sink into them.

“Don’t forget about the swim party tomorrow at my place. My girl is going to bring some friends, so we’ll have young people there too.”

Catherine winked at the three friends.

That night, that Friday night, Linda tried on a nightgown she rarely wore.

Pale blue, falling over her shoulders loosely, hanging just over her mid-thigh, the collar, a wide lacy frill, wrapped close around her neck, but the fabric was sheer and thin enough to show off her bra and panties underneath.

She sashayed and sauntered around Ted sitting downstairs in his favorite armchair, but once again the man didn’t pay any attention.

Lacey, coming home late, saw her mother and whistled.

“You look really nice, Mom,” she said, “but I can see your underwear. Maybe don’t wear anything underneath? I mean. If you want to look sexy.”

Linda frowned.

Did she?

Did she want to look sexy?

It was something to think about.

Liberating. Empowering. Sexy.

Looking sexy was liberating and empowering.

She did.

She did want to look sexy.

Linda went to her room and removed her bra, then she raised her gown to pull off her panties.

Lacey met her in the hall and smiled.

“Better. Much better.”

That night in bed Linda pulled her nightgown past her waist and spread her legs wide, one leg brushing against Ted, who stirred, rolled over, and slid away.

By now Linda had gotten used to the images of Darlene and Mindy filling her mind as she played with herself.

It excited her to think about the mother and daughter locked in a passionate embrace, to imagine the two women passionately, even frantically kissing one another, touching one another, disrobing one another.

She resigned herself to thinking about her own daughter Lacey as she stuck her fingers into her wet, hot hole, spreading her thighs as she pumped herself.

Lacey in her tight pink boy shorts, her small round ass clearly outlined.

She remembered the pleased look on the girl’s face when she saw her nude under her nightgown.

“Much better.”

Then Linda came.

She fell asleep with her fingers in her mouth, sucking the last remaining juices of her orgasm, tasting her pussy. Tasting pussy.

VIII.

Linda only masturbated one time that morning, sinking her fingers into her swollen pussy during breakfast, right under the table, as Ted read his newspaper and Lacey nibbled on her toast and jam.

She couldn’t help it.

That coffee flavoring made her so horny, and it was so addictive.

So horny she’d fuck other women, just like a lesbian would.

It was something to think about, anyway.

All three of the friends being lesbians.

Women who had sex with women.

At a pool party.

She sighed, quietly coming at the table, trembling, staring at Lacey’s downturned face.

Mother and daughter incest.

Ted didn’t look up.

“Something wrong, Mom?” Lacey asked, swallowing a bite of toast.

Linda shook her head, biting her lip. Her fingers slowly caressed the warm insides of her wet pussy as her daughter just stared at her, concerned.

Later Lacey yelled out to her as she ran out the door.

“I’m hanging with Monica,” she shouted.

But Linda was upstairs picking through her small collection of swimsuits, wondering which one she should wear.

She finally decided on the blue one-piece.

It showed a lot of cheek, but it hid most of her body.

But still looked sexy, empowering.

For the pool party.

Linda pulled on a pair of loose, pale green shorts and threw on a large bright pink T-shirt.

She bounced down the front steps, years seeming to drop from her shoulders.

Liberated. Empowered. Sexy.

Ted had left for the day, so it was just Linda who drove to Catherine’s house, plugging her address into her phone’s map.

IX.

Linda had expected a nicely kept backyard, a cute pool, a nice house.

What she found didn’t exactly take her breath away, but she did have to catch it before it escaped.

Oh my, she thought.

The pool stretched fairly north to south, with the western sun setting behind the house. On the south side of the pool, left of Linda as she exited the house, a tall intricately blue tiled pyramid stood on the edge of the pool, sitting atop a kind of cement jetty intruding into the pool. From the top of the pyramid, sheets of water ran down all sides. The pool itself ran for about fifty feet in length as Linda estimated it, and close to twenty feet wide.

Tall, neatly trimmed hedges lined the sides of the wide yard, which spread across the flattened top of a hill.

Apparently owning a coffee shop brought in more money than Linda had assumed.

The three friends, led by Catherine, had to walk through large, rectangular spaces filled with light glinting off stainless steel, chrome, aluminum and shining through huge panes of crystal-like glass. Their shoed feet clicked on smooth, pristine marble fashioned like a black and white checkerboard.

Catherine paused at the sliding glass door leading to the pool and turned towards the three women. Her full brown hair fell across the right side of her face, covering one eye, but her left eye sparkled with an impish delight.

“We’re going to have so much fun. I’m so glad you really thought about coming.”

Linda smiled slightly, a little uneasily.

She felt a little grubby in her green sweat shorts and pink T-shirt, compared to Judith, who wore a bright orange sarong wrap that hung just below her wide hips, showing off her pale white fleshy thighs, dimpled by cellulite. Her breasts swelled from her chest. Linda sighed at nature’s more generous bestowal to her friend. The sarong seemed elegant to Linda, a little exotic. Maybe even a little.

Sexy.

Linda grew dizzy as Catherine led the trio over the threshold of the back door into the bright sunlight shining down on the blue rippling waters of the long pool in front of them.

Sharon laughed and clapped her hands, quickly throwing off her a broad blue beach towel from her hips.

Linda’s gaze swept over Sharon’s body.

Sharon stood the tallest of the three women, her dark hair swept forward around her face, and her bathing suit left little to the imagination, especially in comparison to Linda’s modest one-piece.

Sharon’s hips and pert, it’s the only word Linda could think of, derriere poked out from behind a very cheeky bright yellow bottom. Her waist tapered above her hips before swelling to the rise of her bosom, her chest. Her bikini top pushed her breasts towards each other, increasing the line of her cleavage, encased in two yellow cups revealing the tops of her globes.

Linda could even make out the edges of her dark areoles.

She woman shook her head and looked away, almost stunned. Dazed at the vision, and the wave of thoughts that left her flushed, confused.

Linda had never really noticed Sharon’s figure before, and she was more than surprised, almost shocked, to discover just how stunning her friend could look.

Her skin, though white, had a darker tone than either Linda’s or Judith’s pale skin, and she laughed at both women’s remarks.

“I’ve been tanning, you know. God, it’s so relaxing.”

Linda always thought tanning dried the skin out, aged it.

“Oh, Catherine just has the most wonderful lotion for that.”

When Judith unwrapped her sarong, Linda exhaled with relief and walked over to sit on the lounge next to hers.

Good old Judith, she thought. Sensibly wearing a one-piece.

Judith turned her head to face Linda.

“Do you like it? My Elena picked it out for me when I told her about going swimming. At Lily and Pad.”

Linda, just on the point of responding, spun around at the noise of several young women entering the pool area, hearing the voice of her daughter Lacey among them.

Wearing the tiniest lime bikini she’d ever seen, shining and sparkling on her skin like emeralds.

Linda’s mouth dropped open.

Just a string covered the girl’s behind, two small three-quarters moons floating in an upside-down heart between her legs and spine. When she turned to face her mother directly, Linda thought she would faint. Two tiny patches, two tiny sparkling green triangles, covered her nipples and not much more. Linda glimpsed the outlines of her areolas peeking from the edges of the cups.

Catherine caught Linda licking her dry lips and smirked.

The girls squealed and laughed and dove into the deep end of the pool one by one.

Judith’s daughter Elena swam to the side of the pool, the side facing her mother’s chair, and propped her head, long hair dripping in tangles around her broad, youthful face, on her arms.

“Aren’t you coming in? The water’s so good.”

Linda watched Judith reluctantly stand up to slip her feet into the water, testing it. Her pink swimsuit reflected the sunlight like bejeweled garment. Then she turned her back and slowly dipped her body into the water.

Judith sank below the surface.

When she popped up, rubbing her eyes and wiping the hair from her face, Linda breathed in sharply.

Her bathing suit, so demure and respectable when dry, showed every inch of the middle-aged woman’s portly body, covering her maternal figure in a gleaming pink skin.

Her nipples stood out firm, her areolas dark and wide under the sheer pink fabric of her swimsuit.

A dark, neatly trimmed patch of fur around her mound bulged between her thighs.

“Oh gosh, Mrs. Minard,” Linda heard one of the girls say, “I just love that swimsuit.”

Judith didn’t seem to notice her near nudity.

“Really?” she beamed back at the teenager, sticking her chest out noticeably. “Elena picked it out for me.”

The rest of the day passed, Linda and Sharon both stepped into the pool and yelled at their daughters who swam towards them rapidly like dolphins to splash them without let up.

Soon all women broke into the playful laughter of a Saturday afternoon spent away from care and burden, enjoying the full sun and the shining water dripping sparkling from their wet skin.

Linda had spent the day staring at both Judith and Sharon, regretting her own choice of swimwear.

They looked so liberated.

Empowered.

Sexy.

Maybe next time she could find something less concealing to wear?

In the meantime she lay on her lounge chair, back to the sunlight, her head turned sideways on her crossed arms, idly gazing at the teenage girls pouring lotion on Sharon’s back.

One of the girls, a tall girl with wide hips, broad shoulders, and proud full breasts squeezed into the tiny white triangles of her bikini top, leaned over Sharon’s chair and untied the string of Sharon’s yellow top.

“That’s my girl. Monica. Such a darling you know. And really tight friends with your Lacey, I hear.”

Catherine’s voice broke into Linda’s hazy thoughts.

Catherine. Monica.

Mother and daughter.

Incest.

Stop it. Not here.

“She’s right about that lotion, too, you know. Your girlfriend Sharon. It just helps so much. It keeps your skin from burning and drying out. I don’t know how they do it, but it’s so much more than a sunscreen. You want to try it? I mean, if you want a tan. It’s something to think about, you know.”

Linda didn’t quite say no, and she didn’t quite say yes, her dazed mind wondering what she meant by girlfriend.

She hadn’t used that phrase to talk about her friends since high school.

She shrugged her shoulders, cuddling her head deeper into her arms, closing her eyes to the vision of Sharon’s daughter Becky slowly, sensually spread the lotion over her mother’s shoulders, her shoulder blades, down hair back, over and around her sides, slipping her fingers and palms just to the top of Sharon’s not-quite-string bikini bottom.

The sun, directly overhead, burned on her skin not covered by her modest swimsuit, which plunged down in back, showing a wide amount of skin on both sides of her spine, ending just above where her butt, her small round ass, began to slope outwards.

“Please,” she said quietly. “I don’t want to burn.”

“Hm?” asked Catherine lying beside her.

“Lotion. Would you put that lotion on me, Catherine?”

“Of course, pet.”

Catherine twisted open the cap of the brown and gold bottle.

A strong scent of coconut and vanilla rose to greet both women.

“Smells so nice.”

Linda thought those words at the same time that Catherine spoke, and for a moment she wondered whether she or Catherine had said it.

It gooped white and tingled cool against her skin, but as Catherine, sitting on the side of the lounge, wide enough for the two of them if Linda scootched over a bit, spread the thick lotion her skin began to warm, and Linda felt as if she were glowing. After a while, and here Linda simply lost track of time, her haze thickened, she felt so groggy, so sleepy in the heat of the Saturday summer sun.

But she heard the voice of Catherine speaking to her, as if from a great distance, she felt so far away, so far away, drifting, hearing. Listening.

Thinking about how good the lotion made her feel, how good her skin would look, how good it felt to just soak up the sun, surrounded only by women, not a care in the world, surrounded by such loving daughters, so good to listen to the daughters, so good to look at them, and hear them and to do as they said.

It was all so much to think about, and sometimes the best kind of thinking was just accepting, just taking it all in, like you take in the beauty of a woman’s body, her skin, her soft and delicate skin, her eyes, so expressive, so lovely, her lips.

Catherine’s hands worked over Linda’s feet, her ankles, slowly moving up her calves, spreading the tingling lotion over the entirety of her legs, her legs glowing in the haze of a rising heat.

It all made so much sense, didn’t it, to prefer women, to prefer to be around women?

Lesbians knew about all that, of course, and that was something to think about.

Women knew when another woman was beautiful, attractive, alluring. Seductive.

A woman knew how to listen.

Linda wandered in dream of wavering shadows, soft and fleeting, nodding at the words Catherine spoke to her, Catherine’s red lips so close to her lobes.

Catherine lifted the shoulder straps of Linda’s swimsuit.

“Sit up a little,” she whispered.

So compliant.

Linda leaned up on her elbows to let her new friend, her new girlfriend, pull the straps down from her shoulder, tugging on the swimsuit until it bundled, a little lumpish, around her waist.

She saw the world through a haze of mounting arousal through which the bright voices of the girls drifted, tinkling voices muffled by fog.

“You’re so hot, Mrs. Peters,” one of the girl’s said, her voice bright with admiration. “Sharon.”

Linda recognized Monica’s voice. Lacey’s friend. Catherine’s daughter.

“Isn’t she, Becky?”

Becky nodded.

“It’s true, Mom. So hot.”

“Sexy hot, right Becky?”

“Oh god, yes.”

Catherine spread the lotion all over her exposed back now, the tingling warm glow seeped into her skin and sank deep into the woman lying on the lounge, now only half-conscious of the world around her, content to just let the other woman’s hands roam her body. To go wherever they wanted to go.

Linda felt her hips lift, squirming to help Catherine pull the rest of her swimsuit down and off her hips. Catherine slipped the swimsuit down her legs, and Linda didn’t say a word, her whole body exposed to the sun, the heat of the sun and its light, and she felt at once marvelously alive and stupefied, dazed.

“Just look at them,” the voice of Catherine urged Linda.

She opened her eyes. Nearby the girls knelt by the body of Sharon Peters lying face down on her lounge. From time to time the girls would lift up to spread lotion over Sharon’s nude back, her bare legs, her the rising swells of her naked rump, completely exposed to the four girls. Monica and Elena knelt on one side of her body, Elena and Lacey on the side facing Linda, their backs turned to Lacey’s mother.

“So lovely, isn’t it? To just stare and think about those young, lovely bodies.”

Elena lifted herself, her ass bent out, widening to show Linda her puffy mound of her swimsuit, the back high on her ass. Then Lacey, too, leaned over, and her ass flared out, blooming like a paper flower, a white carnation, in an ornate gift card.

“So pretty, so enticing.”

Linda lost track of time, staring at Elena’s and Lacey’s behinds, lost in thoughts too confusing to challenge or even remember. Then she closed her eyes to the voice of Catherine rolling over her, washing over her like the waves of the ocean crashing against flimsy castles of sand.

“Roll over and I’ll do your front.”

Catherine nudged Linda, and Linda rolled over, exposing her breasts to the view of everyone at the pool, but when she tilted her head to look around, she saw only Becky and Monica spreading lotion over Sharon’s legs.

Judith lay on her back, nude, soaking up the sun, her heavy breasts flat against her chest and falling to her sides. Her large nipples poked hard in the open air.

“Between you and me, I just don’t know how you can keep your eyes off Lacey. Oh, god, is she ever adorable.”

Linda wondered whether her girlfriend slept behind her dark sunglasses.

Elena and Lacey swam laps in the pool.

“Or your hands.”

Catherine covered Linda’s face with lotion, her neck, her shoulders, her breasts, running her hands flat against Linda’s body, until covering her entire body with the white lotion, which faded as it absorbed into the skin.

Catherine’s low, sweet voice filled Linda’s mind, she spoke of Charlene and her daughter Mindy, about all those rumors, it made you think, those rumors did, and then she said, softly but clearly, almost whispering into Linda’s ear, “It’s not really that strange when you think about it, is it? Kind of cute, in a way. So tender. So loving.”

Catherine’s hands flowed over Linda’s trembling body.

“I bet Lacey likes to look at you. Nude like this. I bet she likes to see how sexy you are. She needs to see it, too, doesn’t she? She’s going to be our age one day, and she shouldn’t be afraid of it.”

Linda didn’t respond.

“Anyway. It’s something to think about. Showing your body off at home. For your daughter.”

Sometime later, Linda awoke with a start, noticed her nudity, frantically looked around her and saw her swimsuit draped carefully over the back of the lounge.

What the hell had happened?

The pool was empty.

She was alone outside, but she heard laughter and conversation coming from inside the house.

Dressing quickly, hiding as much as possible against any looking at her through the glass walls of the home behind her, she put on her flipflops and walked through the rear door, following the voices and laughter.

They came from the kitchen, near the back of the house, just to her left when she re-entered.

“You’re awake!” Judith shouted, looking happier than Linda could remember. Younger even.

She noticed Linda’s green shorts and pink T-shirt.

“Are you leaving already?”

“I’m sorry,” she replied. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I. I didn’t mean to stay so long. I. I have to be going.”

Picking her purse up from one of the bar stools at the kitchen island, she flung it over her shoulder and strode out the house, towards her car, suddenly panicking and feeling herself in great danger.

Linda opened her car door, but Catherine stopped her before she could get in.

“Linda!”

Looking up, Linda saw Lacey walking beside her, and for a moment, they looked almost like a couple. Mrs. Henderson had her arm around the girl’s waist, and Linda’s daughter leaned into her affectionately, laughing at something Catherine said.

Linda couldn’t hear what.

“You almost forgot your daughter!” Catherine laughed.

Linda didn’t realize she was coming with her. She figured the girl would stay behind.

Lacey walked around the car, and Catherine leaned in the door to whisper a question.

“Well, how has Ted taken to your change in evening wear?”

Linda had to admit he didn’t seem to notice.

“Maybe something a little more exotic, then? Something showy. You know, sexy. You should take Lacey with you.”

Lacey, sitting beside Linda now, flashed a broad smile at Catherine.

“She’ll know what’ll look sexiest on you.”

Silence hung in the air, interrupted by the sudden babbling of a nearby mockingbird.

“It’s something to think about, anyway. I know that Lily and Pad stays open late on Saturdays.”

Linda’s groin turned moist and warm, listening to the directions Lacey gave her to get to the store everyone in town apparently had started shopping at.

Sexy.

Empowered.

Liberated.

Mother daughter incest.

Linda groaned.

“What’s wrong, Mom?” Lacey asked.

Linda didn’t answer.

X.

Lacey picked out all the lingerie, mistrusting her mother’s modesty.

“You’re too shy, Mom. No way do I want you picking some frumpy old thing to wear. You need to entice, not hide yourself away.”

Entice.

She needed to entice.

So Linda nodded and let her daughter pick out lingerie.

To entice.

Lacey chose very sheer garments, with thin, lace straps, and thin, lace ties.

Pink, baby blue, black, purple.

Lacey held up the purple teddy and winked at Linda.

“You like?”

Linda worried about the price.

“Oh, Mom. You never buy anything sexy.”

Linda demurred.

“I can’t wait to see you in it.”

Lacey poked a finger through the crotch area.

“Crotchless,” she said.

Linda fairly stumbled to the cash register.

XI.

The rest of the week passed in a dizzying haze of almost constant arousal.

Linda long dropped any resistance to the overwhelming images and thoughts filling her mind. Those first times she came, fingering herself next to her sleeping husband, a shame overcame her, a guilt of something irreparably done. But every night for two weeks, and every day for two weeks, she paced her empty house, aroused, thinking constantly of mother daughter incest, of Charlene and Mindy Draper, and now, after that pool party, of Catherine and her daughter Monica, of Sharon and Becky.

And of her own daughter Lacey.

God, she couldn’t stop thinking about other women, about being a lesbian.

What was it like?

What did they do?

She could guess, of course, but the whole idea danced weirdly in her mind’s eye, shadows and outlines filled with odd, disjointed, clumsy movements.

But enticing.

So enticing.

But now as she walked around the house, long after Ted had left, she found herself greedily thinking about her desires, her new desires.

Liberated.

Lesbian incest.

Empowered mother.

Sexy daughter.

She didn’t bother getting dressed in the mornings.

She’d just drift down to the kitchen, drink her coffee, watch her Lacey stumble half asleep in her shorts and cut off t-shirt, her thin body so exposed, so gorgeous, the slope of her belly as she stretched and yawned, full of life.

Empowered daughter.

So sexy.

So lesbian.

It was something to think about.

Somehow Ted, bless his heart, ignored everything.

XII.

That Sunday evening, or that Monday evening, did she even know the day of the week, seeing as how she spent every day in a sex-fueled haze, her fingers in her down there every hour it seemed, Lacey started wearing the lingerie she bought.

“Let’s put our nighties on, Mom,” she said one night.

“Your father’s napping,” Linda protested, stifling her excitement, trying to bring restraint to bear upon her growing heat. “He’s been working so hard.”

“Let’s get dressed together in my room then,” she proposed to her mother. “Get that purple teddy you picked out for me.”

Linda looked puzzled.

She didn’t pick out that teddy for Lacey.

It was the other way around.

But the way she said it.

It kind of sounded flirty.

It kind of made Linda sound predatory.

A predatory mother.

Liberated.

Linda hurried to her bedroom, to her closet, unable to hide her growing excitement.

Her eyes met Lacey’s unfolded ass when she entered her daughter’s bedroom, not bothering to knock.

The girl’s back faced the door, Linda caught her bent over in the act of sliding her black lace teddy carefully over her calves and thighs.

Linda didn’t even try to look away but stared straight into the dark, puffy slit of her daughter’s down there, oh god, her pussy with its tuft of light brown fur showing between her milky thighs, a country white threatening to bronze, just below the waxing moons of her ass.

Linda’s own pussy stirred, and her mouth dried up. Her breath came from her open mouth in ragged puffs of disbelief.

I can’t. This. This is so.

Lacey straightened, her butt still facing her mother, and continued pulling up her nightwear.

The garment formed two thin straps running just to the side of each cheek, connecting to a wide swath of sheer, lacy fabric winding to the front, which Linda, standing in the doorway, limply holding her own negligee, couldn’t yet see. Above the swath of fabric, two thin straps crisscrossed each other, forming an X against her daughter’s slender, willowy back, then continued upward, running delicately over each shoulder.

When Lacey turned around, Linda half murmured and half grunted, as if punched.

“Oh my,” she said.

The swaths of fabric formed two long trapezoids on either side of her torso, joined by a small knot just above her belly button, leaving her hips and groin exposed, covered only by a crisscross of laces tying together the two straps leading from her crotch to the bottom of the trapezoid.

Or the wings of a butterfly, Linda thought. The wings of a very naughty black butterfly.

Spread across the loveliest pair of little breasts Linda could imagine.

So cute and soft, demure and modest.

Leaving so much of her skin revealed, the space between her breasts, her slim belly, her crotch.

Seeing how good her daughter looked in her lingerie, Linda felt less apprehensive about her own body.

After all they were practically the same size, the two of them, slender, willowy, small of breast and slight of hip, oh but she looked so good bent over, Linda thought, wondering if she looked just as hot, wondering if her own butt, her own ass flared out like a flower when she bent over, ready to take it.

“Mom?” Lacey asked quietly, but even that quiet voice rang out loudly enough to shake her from her reverie.

“Aren’t you going to change into yours?”

Linda remained silent, stepping into Lacey’s bedroom as if sleepwalking, a somnambulant stumbling towards the wavering shadows of her dreams.

Her hands rose numbly to the top button of her pink blouse.

“Here, let me.”

Linda stood perfectly still, frozen but ready to bolt at any opportunity.

This wasn’t right, she thought.

Nothing about this felt right.

Her area down there burned, no, her pussy burned, wet and sticky.

When did Lacey get taller than her mother?

Not more than an inch, but still. When did that happen?

They could stare at each other eye level, now.

But Lacey didn’t look up. She kept her head tilted slightly as she unbuttoned a second button, then a third, then a fourth, working her way down Linda’s blouse, which fell open by slow degrees, open to Lacey’s eyes, her daughters’ gaze.

Lacey’s breath blew soft and warm on her mother’s skin. The last button came undone, and her blouse fell completely open. Lacey gently lifted the sides of the collar up and off her mother’s shoulders. With a smooth movement of her arms, Linda let the garment drop to the floor.

Trembling she stared into her daughter’s steady eyes, her tits covered only in a white bra.

“Turn around,” Lacey said softly, almost whispering.

Linda turned around.

She felt her daughter’s hands on her back, gripping the hook of her bra.

Oh, god.

I need to leave. I need to stop this.

No, she realized, I need to show Lacey my nude body, my nakedness. It’s important. She needs to see me look sexy.

But she held the cups of her bra against her, holding it up, biting her lip as Lacey’s fingers trailed around her waist, barely grazing the skin of her slender hips, reaching the button of her pants and unclasping that too in a single, smooth motion. Lacey’s fingers pulled her zipper down.

“Lacey,” her mother warned. “What—“

But Lacey was already tugging on the band of her white denim jeans, pushing her jeans down, down, down her legs, past her thighs, her small, knobby knees, the gentle slope of her calves. Her ankles.

“Step out.”

Lacey’s voice, her face level with Linda’s butt, rasped in Linda’s ears.

“And turn around.”

For an agonizing moment, a long agonizing moment that might have lasted minutes or hours, Linda stood perfectly still, frozen to her spot, not daring even to breathe. She could feel her daughter waiting patiently, and somehow she knew that her daughter would wait the entire night for her to turn around, for her mother to turn around, almost nude and to practically thrust her, her, oh god, her pussy right into her daughter’s face, right against Lacey’s mouth and nose.

But she still wore her panties. Thank god she still wore her underwear.

Slowly, ever so slowly, almost without thinking, not wanting to think, not daring to think about anything except the moment, this moment only, this moment of turning around, so slowly, one tiny shift of her feet, and then, oh god, her pussy faced her daughter, kneeling in front of her, her nose, her mouth, her eyes staring straight ahead to the small bulge of her pubic mound, her hair puffing the front of her panties, her white modest panties which she had taken to wear in a desperate and futile attempt to keep restrained, unaroused.

Linda didn’t look down; she couldn’t look down.

If she didn’t look down, then this meant it wasn’t happening, she could say, she could tell herself that this wasn’t happening, that this couldn’t be happening.

But then Lacey’s fingers touched her skin, right at the hips, brushing lightly against her skin to grasp the waistband of her panties.

“Granny panties, Mom? Really.”

The waistband of her granny panties, her plain white granny panties, slightly discolored from so many discharges.

She’d been so wet lately.

The gusset of her panties stuck to her groin, her lips, as Lacey gently but steadily yanked down on her underwear, and now her pussy was exposed, now her pussy greeted her daughter’s eyes, decorously tucked, but still.

Did she imagine it?

The odor of her arousal rising to her nose.

The moisture of her groin gathering to a trickle, collecting around her pubic bush, threatening to drip, drip, drip down her thighs.

But Lacey didn’t seem to notice.

“Lift your foot up,” she said.

Linda raised her right foot, and Lacey drew her foot through the straps of purple teddy, matching Lacey’s black negligee, then she repeated the movement with Linda’s left foot, carefully pulling the teddy up and around her mother’s hips, breasts and shoulders.

Then she turned her mother around to straighten the straps in back, running her fingers over her mother’s soft skin.

Finally she finished and pulled away, holding her mother at arm’s length.

“See, Mom? You look fantastic!”

The stood in front of the mirror, Lacey’s arms around her mother’s slender waist.

“I know,” Lacey exclaimed. “You need nail polish. We can polish our nails together.”

Linda stared at Lacey’s nails, a deep purple.

“But you’re already wearing polish,” Linda protested.

“I can take it off. Quick, get on my bed, I’ll get my polish.”

Linda’s eyes followed Lacey trotting from her room, her bare feet padding softly on the carpet, swinging her ass emphatically and lasciviously from side to side, the two straps of the teddy outlining the crack of her ass in a wide V.

All of a sudden she heard the voice of Catherine clearly, “I just don’t know how you can keep your eyes off Lacey.”

She couldn’t. She couldn’t keep her eyes of Lacey.

She was.

Enticing.

XIII.

Linda sat knees up facing Lacey, her thighs spread wide, her swollen labia clear for Lacey to see, but her daughter kept her eyes on Linda’s toes, carefully brushing her toenails with neat strokes.

Then Lacey removed her polish from her toes, wiped them dry, and had Linda polish them.

A red color, slightly translucent, a pale red like the color of one of those hot candies.

The sharp chemical, turpentine odor of Lacy’s polish remover faded, overcome by the pungent, musky aroma coming from Linda’s exposed, oh god, oh god, oh god, pussy, her exposed pussy staring her daughter right in the face. If only she’d look.

Did she smell it?

How could she not smell it?

The air in bedroom hung thick with it.

But Lacey didn’t say anything about it.

She just watched Linda polish her nails with that pale red, semi-transparent polish, carefully and delicately brushing the polish over the nails of Lacey’s toes.

“You’re doing so good, Mom. You’re so careful.”

Linda didn’t know how she could be.

She knew she must be making a mess of it, her hands trembled so much, shaking as she tried to hold the small brush steady, her eyes drifting repeatedly to see her daughter’s, oh god, her daughter’s revealed pussy, greeting her eyes in a tight vertical whimsical smile, her fat, outer labia so puffy, swollen and dark, concealing in a thin line the depths of her vagina; her soft brown bush gathered moisture between the thin black straps of her crotchless negligee.

Linda wondered how much the smell of arousal came from her, and how much came from her daughter.

Is she as turned on as I am?

I’m really so turned on?

Lacey said nothing, but she kept her thighs spread for her mother’s eyes.

XIV.

Then it was over.

But women giggled, comparing their toes. Linda wore a dark red glossy polish.

“I think yours is sexier,” Lacey said. “So red and hot.”

Then she pushed Linda off her bed with laugh.

“You should wake Dad up and see what he thinks.”

Linda stumbled towards Lacey’s door, but just when Linda reached it, the door of Lacey’s bedroom, she heard her daughter ask, “Hey, Mom. Do you ever watch porn?”

Linda spun around, red and flabbergasted, but Lacey kept looking at her own toenails.

“Lacey, what kind of question is that?”

“Do you?”

“No!”

“Maybe we should sometime. Maybe we should sometime this week.”

Linda turned to go out the door, speechless.

“It’s something to think about, you know.”

Oh, god.

XV.

That night Linda climbed into a bed shared with a man dead to the world, lying on his back on the edge of the bed, king size, the low rumble of his snoring breaking out intermittently before subsiding to barely audible breathing.

Linda didn’t even think about waking him.

She pushed her pillows against her headboard and spread her thighs wide, her knees up, so wildly turned on she didn’t bother to heat herself up by slow, deliberate strokes of her lips up to the clitoral hood, back and forth, back and forth until she shook with an undeniable need.

No, not tonight.

The vision of her daughter’s pussy, so demure, so tight, so puffy, so red hung over her eyes, dancing and swaying erotically.

She plunged her fingers into the wet gulf of her sex, grinding her cunt hard against her deepening fingers, three of them plunging deep and hard into the hot wet chasm of her need.

She fucked herself with one hand, rubbing her clit rapidly with the other, with the other, until she felt herself stiffening, the orgasm rising from behind her clit, just behind the muscle of her hole, growing to an unbearable pressure so much like pain, and then she did explode, and her orgasm mushroomed throughout her body.

And she lay back, sweating, whispering to herself almost in sorrow.

“Lacey, Lacey. Lacey.”

And still Ted slept.

She licked her fingers, but she could not fall asleep.

She rubbed herself to a climax two more times that night, and every time she saw her daughter’s pussy dancing and shimmering before her, just beyond reach.

That morning she walked downstairs to the kitchen, still wearing her teddy, a terrycloth robe thrown loosely around her, her light brown hair hung matted over face, constantly falling away from her ears as she tucked her hair behind her.

She turned on the coffee maker, and sat down, covering her face with her hands, wondering how she had come to this, how she had come to being so horny, so infatuated with her daughter, so infatuated with women.

Empowered and liberated.

Sexy.

Enticing.

Mother and daughter together.

Incest.

She poured several drops of the creamer into her coffee, so addictive, so hot, making her so horny, so horny, looking for excitement down there.

She groaned as she leaned against the back of her chair, unable to stop her hand from traveling the length of her body towards the center of her parted thighs.

Lacey entered the kitchen, wearing only a long T-shirt, long enough to hide her panties, but the cute swell of her ass showed against the cloth, and Linda stroked herself slowly, staring at her daughter’s body.

She wasn’t wearing a bra.

Her nipples poked hard from the peach size swell of her boobs, so cute and adorable, so mouth-watering.

Stop it, Linda.

But she couldn’t stop it.

Lacey walked over to the cupboard, picked up a spoon with a fast, jerking movement, and the spoon fell out of her hand.

She bent over to pick it up, and the hem of the T-shirt rose.

Linda’s fingers dipped into her wet hole, so hot, steaming, flowing with the juices of her arousal.

Oh, god. Lacey.

Once again her daughter’s cunt greeted her mother’s eye, a thin line between puffy lips, and Linda masturbated openly now, not caring if her daughter saw her or not, not caring about anything but the vision, the lovely vision in front of her.

The legs of her chairs beat a staccato tattoo against the tiled floor.

But Lacey stood up, walked to the sink, pulled a few sheets of paper towels from a roller, and went back where she dropped the spoon.

“There’s a spot on the floor,” she said, kneeling on the tile to wipe the tile, her ass high and wide now, fully displayed to the mother, her mind overthrown, fucking herself in her kitchen chair while she stared open-mouthed at her daughter’s rear, the soft cushions of her ass, so cute and sexy, the dark rim of her asshole partially revealed in the dark crack of her ass.

I just don’t know how you can keep your eyes off her.

“I can’t,” whispered Linda, softly but aloud. “I can’t keep my eyes of you.”

“What’s that, Mom?”

But Lacey kept scrubbing the floor, shaking her ass as she wiped a wide area of the tile.

Satisfied, she stood up, and her shirt fell over her hips, hiding her nudity.

But Linda was already coming over her hand.

It went on and on and on like that, morning after morning, night after night.

Lacey would leave for the day, Ted would go to work, taking his flavored coffee with him, and Linda would pace her house like a sex-crazed tiger, her fingers perpetually at her crotch, in a constant state of tormented sexual arousal.

So in heat.

Just needing to come.

At night Lacey loved dressing her mother up in the sexy outfits they’d bought at Lily and Pad. None of them were as revealing as the purple teddy she’d worn that first night, but all of them left little for the eye to imagine.

The girl’s hands and fingers fluttered over her mother’s skin, until Linda didn’t even trouble to conceal her groans, her arousal.

But Lacey never seemed to notice, so casually stroking, caressing, and petting her mother to an unbearable excitement, constantly touching her bare skin whenever they drew close, checking out a blouse, her pants, whether a skirt showed panty lines, feeling the soft fabric of her lingerie, nightwear that hung only to the tops of her mound.

“You’re so pretty, Mom,” she’d say.

And then one night, Wednesday? Thursday? Friday? Surely not Friday, Friday was her coffee date, her date with her girlfriends, at Catherine’s lovely shop, but Linda’s mind swirled, her thoughts rambled and crashed against each other, confused and lost, and then one night, Lacey came home holding up two DVDs.

Two DVDs in bright pink jewel cases.

“Your cable sucks,” she said, “but Monica lent me these. You have a Blu-ray, don’t you?”

Linda nodded slowly, her head bobbed once or twice in a slight affirmation.

Lacey opened one of the DVDs and put the two pink cases on the coffee table in the family room, where a very large flat screen hung on the wall facing a very fluffy brown leather sofa.

“Go get dressed,” Lacey said over her shoulder. “That purple teddy you picked out, the one that makes you look so hot.”

She turned towards her mother.

“Please? For me?”

Linda scurried upstairs, whatever remained of restraint completely overthrown.

“I’ll get mine too,” she heard Lacey call out behind her.

She grabbed her mother’s arm and stopped her.

“Let’s get dressed in your room. We can put on lots of makeup and do our hair.”

When Linday threw a questioning look at Lacey, she just shrugged.

“You’ll see.”

XVI.

Linda’s eyes followed Lacey leading her to downstairs and to the family room.

Lacey had blown and sprayed their hair to billowy approximates of big hair, straightened high above their foreheads and sides ending in waves at the ends. Both sets of lips gleamed with thick red lipstick; Lacey smeared heavy foundation and highlight expertly over their faces, and eyeshadow glittered above their eyes, set dark with thick black mascara and eyeliner.

Ted was out for the night, an unusual thing for him.

“What if he comes home,” Linda asked her daughter, unable to hide the alarm in her voice.

“Relax, Mom. I told him not to come into the family room. I said you and I needed some mom and daughter time.”

Lacey laughed.

“That goofball.”

Linda watched Lacey saunter to the Blu-Ray player, her ass swaying side to side, a pendulum ticking its way towards her mother’s seduction, the tuft of light brown hair showing as a shadow between her legs drew her eyes deeper and deeper into Lacey’s backside.

Linda’s breath came in short bursts, she sat back against the sofa, the cold leather quickened her, then she leaned forward, nervous, to pick up one of the DVD covers, a pink cover showing two half-dressed blondes in heavy makeup kissing a long translucent purple dildo held between their two mouths, wet pink tongues extending from their crimson and magenta lips.

Linda’s heart beat faster, beating against her ribcage.

The actresses on the cover wore so much makeup, and their hair looked so much like Lacey’s and Linda’s.

They could be Linda and Lacey licking that hard, purple cock.

“What kind of movie is this?” she asked, licking her dry lips.

“Oh, Mom. Surely you’ve seen a lesbian porn before?”

Linda wanted to protest, wanted to say something, anything, but she looked up from the case to stare at her daughter’s ass, so splendidly in bloom as she bent to put the DVD into the deck of the Blu-Ray. Her eyes drifted back to the two women on the cover of the jewel case, their two tongues almost touching at the tip of the black dildo.

“Are you? Are you?”

Lesbian.

Enticing.

Liberated.

Linda didn’t finish the question that stammered from her parched mouth.

Lacey didn’t answer.

“They’re so much better than straight porn. They’re so sensual and slow. You’ll see, but they get so hot, they make each other so hot, and it’s just so gorgeous to watch. I promise, Mom. You’ll absolutely love this. When they come, when they come looking into each other’s eyes, it’s like nothing you’ve ever seen.”

The girl dimmed the lights, and the glow of the television washed the room in its light.

Lacey wiggled back to the sofa, propped herself against the other end, her back against the wide round cushioned arm, her legs spread towards her mother, her left leg bent at the knee and pressed against the back of the sofa. She stretched her right leg towards Linda, her pussy displayed wide, gathering moisture, gathering dew.

She reached down to caress her opened snatch and pressed the play button of the remote, adjusting the volume up loud.

“I love to hear them scream,” she said. “But I really love to hear them moan.”

She glanced at her mother.

“Face me, Mom. Lean against the arm and put your leg up. No, not that one silly. The other one.”

Linda bent her knee, mimicking Lacey’s position.

Lacey scrunched her eyes, apparently considering the view.

“Hook your whole leg over the back of the couch. Hang your knee over the back.”

Linda shivered as she displayed more of her center, her pussy, to Lacey. Looking at her daughter in heavy makeup and her blown-out hair, it was easy to imagine someone else other than her daughter.

It was easy, surprisingly easy, for Linda to obey Lacey’s directions, and to do so without feeling overwhelmed by guilt or shame. Lacey asked for this, she said, Lacey told her to do this, she told herself, and when glanced nervously at her daughter, all that makeup, all that lipstick and eyeshadow.

She could have been just some girl she picked up.

Some random girl picked up by a horny lesbian.

Which meant Lacey wanted it, wanted to do this, wanted to see her mother.

So empowered.

So enticing.

Mother.

Daughter.

Her daughter wanted this.

That thought burned a fire between her legs, and she ached to touch herself, to touch herself in front of this wonderful, strange woman who told her what to do and made her watch lesbian pornography.

Linda’s hand drifted towards her steaming cunt.

The video had been underway for several minutes, and Linda’s eyes trained on the close up shots of the two women kissing each other, slowly and timidly at first but with a quickly growing ardor. The walls of the family room reverberated with sound, the long, wet, smacking of their lips and tongues. A murmur rose from the sound system, the murmur of women groaning in an almost plaintive arousal. The hand in her pussy quickened its pace, rubbing harder and faster, and Linda’s hips began to gyrate and grind, pumping the fingers in her wet slit, pumping her wet slit at Lacey, who rubbed her pussy more slowly, eyes transfixed on the video, while she rubbed at small tit under the fabric of her black teddy.

When the actresses moved over each other, stripping themselves of all their clothes, Linda began to groan.

And when they placed themselves mouth to pussy and pussy to mouth on a soft white bed, Lacey’s moans filled the groaning and cries filling already resounding in the room.

Linda’s leg came down from the side of the sofa, she bent her knee, but slowly, slow, her leg straightened, and her foot came in contact with Lacey’s foot. Soon both mother and daughter were furiously rubbing themselves, their legs touching, overlapped, Linda’s calf over Lacey’s thigh, and Linda could feel the heat of her daughter’s cunt on the soles of her foot.

Linda drew her foot back, and kept it up, bent, but her toes still touched Lacey’s toes, and she kept it there, reveling in the connection, the contact of her body with Lacey’s body. Dangerous and safe, dangerous. Safe.

Then they came, mother and daughter came, staring into each other’s pussies, into each other’s open fuck holes, for now Lacey’s cunt no longer hid demure behind the puffy folds of her labia, but swollen, engorged, her lips emerged, licentious and lewd, wide and jagged like Linda’s pussy after a long session of masturbating while Ted slept beside her. Lacey’s lips extended and opened wide to her fingers pummeling her hole, her wet hole, open and gaping for her mother, the sound, the wet sound of her smacking into her hole added to the cacophony of lust.

Linda’s thighs tightened around her wrist, and she turned to her side, facing the television but closing her eyes in a stifled scream, whining, whimpering into the cushion, the leather cushion of the brown sofa.

But Lacey did scream.

“Oh god, oh god, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh god,” she screamed over and over, “I’m coming, I’m coming so hard, Mom.”

When Linda came down from her climax, the video still played, and one of the women knelt behind the other, who knelt on all fours, her ass high and out, while the other woman, one knee extended to the side of her hips and the other knee pushed against the bed so the camera could capture the contact between the round bulb tip of the purple strap-on and the woman’s gaping, shaven cunt.

Crazily, like a woman possessed, she flung her right leg over the back of the sofa, rubbing her groin furiously, trying desperately to bring herself to another crushing orgasm as she stared at the screen, filled with dripping image of the woman’s snatch.

The woman fucked the other woman, slowly penetrating her with the long dildo, which must have been ten, twelve inches long, and very, very wide of girth. The woman quickly picked up speed, shoving the purple shaft into its wet, glistening hole, until both women were panting and groaning loudly.

Suddenly the kneeling woman, the woman on all fours, spun around, and lying on her back, wrapped her legs around her lover as her lover continued to thrust into her.

“Yeah, there. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me harder, yeah. Fuck my pussy, fuck my pussy, fuck my pussy.”

Now the women were kissing, short but passionate kisses, as the woman above lifted her head to gaze into the other glazed eyes.

Then the woman on her back came.

And somehow Lacey was leaning against her mother, her back against her mother’s breasts, pressing the back of her ass against her mother’s hand still fucking her pussy while her daughter leaned against her, nestled between her legs, and fucked her own pussy with three fingers, turning her head from time to time to scream a muffled orgasm into her mother’s breasts, not quite kissing her mother’s chest, and not quite not kissing her.

And even as Lacey shuddered against, her body, then slender body vibrating against her breasts, Linda’s free hand wrapped around her daughter’s waist, pressing the girl hard against, letting Lacey’s climax subside, her palm flat against the nude skin of Lacey’s soft belly. Linda’s eyes stayed fixed on the scene playing out on the large screen, stupefied by the sensation of her daughter nuzzling her lips against her skin.

The actresses, still in the glow of orgasm, kissed each other slowly, sensually, affectionately, their sex-glossed eyes holding onto the other tenderly.

Linda’s mouth hung open; her breath came short, shallow, fast.

When her orgasm hit for the second time, she was already swallowing the juices of Lacey’s pussy, not fully aware of when her daughter’s fingers had entered her mouth.

She was still sucking on Lacey’s fingers when the guilt struck.

Week Four, Friday: In Linda’s Kitchen

XVII.

It must have been Thursday, after all.

The next day, while Linda struggled to come to terms with what had a happened the night before (they had not had sex, thank god they had not had sex, surely that had not been sex), drinking a second cup of coffee at the breakfast table to an empty house, her phone rang.

That flavoring tasted so good, and somehow it helped calm her nerves, still overwrought after a restless night of bad and uneasy dreams.

“Oh gosh, Linda, did I wake you, you sound exhausted, you poor thing,” said the voice on the other end, the voice of Catherine.

Linda mumbled an excuse, but Catherine didn’t seem to notice.

“Listen, honey, I know we’re going to hook up this afternoon at Mystique, but would you mind very much if I swung by? I just really, really want to talk to you.”

Linda said that wouldn’t be a problem.

“Well, then you have to invite me, silly. Like you want me to come.”

Linda held her phone out, eyeing it suspiciously.

“But I do. I do want you to come, Catherine. Please.”

Catherine laughed on the other end, bright and happy.

“Well, if you insist. I’ll come.”

They continued talking over the phone while Linda prepared the potpourri, by now a morning ritual.

Linda struggled to keep with Catherine, not really understanding what the woman said as she listened to the calm and lovely voice.

But she felt her arousal, a dormant but glowing ember, burst into open fire, and she pressed her thighs together, a vision of pussy and lipstick, of gyrating bodies, all female surrounding her on all sides, pressing their breasts and hips and lips against her.

Linda listened as Catherine told her that Lacey had called her that morning, crying and upset.

The vision dissipated, and Linda frowned.

Why would Lacey call Catherine? What did Lacey have to say to Catherine?

Oh god.

Catherine found out.

“I just think we need to talk, Linda. I just think we need to go over what’s happening here.”

Linda nodded, realized Catherine couldn’t see her, and spoke.

“I agree,” she said, too dazed to wonder why she’d agreed to discuss these things with Catherine Henderson.

“Good,” Catherine said.

Then the call ended.

Linda finished her coffee, feeling calmer, better. Last night still clouded her mood, but already the clouds thinned, ready to disperse.

After all, it’s not like anything had actually happened between her and her daughter.

They hadn’t touched each other down there.

Although they could all stand to use a little excitement.

So liberated.

Stop it.

Linda stood in her bathroom, regarding herself in the mirror.

XVIII.

Last night, after climaxing that second time, she’d wanted to jump up, to flee, but Lacey held her fast.

“You need to see the next scene, Mom. Different girls, but oh, you just have to see them make love.”

Linda had wanted to scream a loud no. She really did, she fully intended to push her daughter away, to run to her bedroom and lock the door if necessary.

But Lacey climbed off her lap and returned to her end of the sofa, leaning against the arm. She hooked her left leg over the back and, bending her left leg, planted her other foot flat on the carpeted floor.

By this time her teddy had completely slipped off one shoulder, exposing her peach-like breast, her hair had matted, misshaped by her exertions, her makeup, especially her lipstick smeared and blurry by her nuzzling against her mother’s body. But if anything she looked even hotter, a painted whore demented by lust and sexual frenzy.

Despite all her guilt and all her rising shame, her concern, her protective concern for her actions, Linda’s hand strayed towards her groin, and her legs, already parted, parted even further, open and welcoming to Lacey’s sight, Lacey’s eyes.

Two girls, they couldn’t have been more than eighteen each, not much more, nineteen, maybe, twenty, they all looked so young to Linda, played in cool blue pool water, splashing each other playfully before embracing in long, sensual kisses. Their long dark hair hung wet, pushed back from their foreheads, clinging to the backs of their necks.

They wore no makeup, the young faces adored each other, and one of the girls, slightly wider, curvier, bustier, pulled the other out of the pool.

Now they both lay on a bed, one nude, the curvier girl wearing only her green bikini top, sparkling in the light, lay on her back, leaning slightly on her elbows as the other slowly, sensually, delicately, floating butterfly kiss after butterfly kiss down the slope of her lover’s body, the smooth, rolling plains of her belly, until planting her face, her lovely, tender face between the graceful legs of her companion, so wantonly spread and lewdly open for the tongue of her lover.

The camera moved as the women moved, now capturing the lips and tongue tracing the rim of her navel, now capturing the upturned face of the woman lying down, tossing her head back, chin up and quivering as her lover touched her pussy with the tip of her tongue, sliding between the two outstretched lips, ragged and folded like the torn petals of a flower, a rose, tossed in a summer storm.

When the camera focused on the woman’s pussy, the mouth and tongue of her lover touching her lips so tantalizingly and playfully, Linda groaned.

This was girl flesh in all its glory, and Linda needed it.

Lacey had heard the groan.

“Is that what you want, Mom? Do you like that? Do you want to taste a girl’s pussy?”

Linda groaned and squeezed her thighs together.

Then she nodded her head, ever so slightly.

“Do you want to taste my pussy, Mom?”

Linda continued staring at the screen, at the pink tongue sliding between the darker pink folds of the wet pussy filling the screen.

A high-pitched murmur, full of ache and need, echoed throughout the room.

“Look at me. Look at my pussy, Mom.”

Lacey’s voice echoed in her ears, rising above the groans, squeals, and cries coming from the sound system, commanding and irresistible.

Linda turned, god help her, she turned, swallowing the fear, the overwhelming fear.

In the wavering glow of the television screen, Lacey’s middle finger slid between her labia, outlined in wispy fur, her thighs spread so wide for her mother, and by now her lips, her cunt lips, flared from her hole, and she spread her lips, wide and wet, with her fingers, showing the mother the depth of her daughter’s hole as she slid her hooked middle finger deeper and deeper inside, squirming and grinding her hips towards her mother, her mother Linda, staring at her groin with glazed and heavy-lidded eyes.

“Spread your cunt with your fingers, Mom. Just like I’m doing. I want to watch you fuck your hand.”

From time to time, Lacey removed her fingers to suck on them, drawing her mouth slowly over each finger, peering into her mother’s eyes in the half-light.

Linda lowered her hand to her pussy, her entire pelvis jerked when she touched herself, disbelieving; her cunt had never been so wet, so hot, so slippery as she ran her fingers through her cleft. Just feeling her pussy, just touching herself in full view of her daughter sent a wave of excited pleasure surging through her, of a pleasure mixed with disgust, self-loathing, the fear of loving something to much, of loving danger too much.

Of ending everything, of ruining her life.

But the clock ticked, and the alarm rang far, far too late for Linda Ware now.

Those bells of warning ringing muffled in her head, muffled by the groans of her own desire, arisen, awakened, so recently within her.

“It’s so pretty, Mom. Your pussy is so pretty. You’re so pretty.”

Lacey’s praise washed over her, enflaming her, gasoline and not water over the open flame of her sexual heat.

Lacey dropped her leg, and once again their bodies touched, Lacey’s leg inside Linda’s leg, her foot inching towards the mother’s center, where her hand blurred in a blaze of rubbing her pussy, moving her hand upward to rub her clit in a flurry, arching her back and grinding her pussy, so lewd and open now, at her daughter’s marveling and enraptured face.

Linda came, for the third time that night she came in the presence of her daughter, and she was still coming, still heaving in her wet orgasm when she felt Lacey’s big toe reach her hole, her yawning vagina. It entered, just the tip, inside her fuck hole, and Linda thrust her cunt at her daughter, a new orgasm just on the wind of the last.

“That’s it, Mom. Fuck my toe. Fuck your dirty pussy on my foot.”

Linda grabbed Lacey’s ankle and drove her hips into the girl’s foot.

“Your lesbian pussy. Your lesbian whore pussy.”

Linda shrieked.

It took only moments for Linda to recover, excuse herself amid the noises of women coming and coming and coming on the television screen, five women at least in a choreographed orgy, and to run downstairs, to the safety of her bedroom, making sure to lock the door behind her.

She threw herself into her shower and wept.

XIX.

Now, as she gazed at herself in the mirror, the makeup and hairdo from the night before long gone, long wiped away and washed out, she’d wondered at her panic.

She’d had the morning to herself, waking up late to avoid meeting Ted and greeting Lacey, who had to leave early for some kind of photo session Monica had set up for her, Becky, and Elena.

She felt refreshed, vigorous.

Sure, things had gotten a little out of hand (or foot), had gone too far, but it had all been so, oh god, those orgasms.

Lesbian.

Mother and daughter lesbians.

Liberated, empowered, enticing.

Incest. Lesbian incest.

Those thoughts alone triggered her groin, sent an electric charge to her pussy, and she groaned loudly, a primeval growl rising from the depths, driving her groin against the sink counter, pressing her thighs together.

I’m so horny.

I’m addicted to lesbian sex.

Because of my lesbian whore pussy.

That thought came out of nowhere, pieced together from the fragments hurling through her mind, but once she put them together, she could only add the third piece.

I’m so horny, I’m horny all the time, I need lesbian sex, incest. With my daughter. Like last night.

I fucked her foot.

I fucked my daughter’s foot.

I’m addicted to lesbian incest.

She went to her closet.

She knew just what to wear for Catherine.

After all, she was a lesbian whore. With a lesbian whore pussy.

XX.

“Oh my,” Catherine kept repeating when she saw Linda. “Oh my, oh my, oh my.”

Linda wore a sheer pink negligee, falling just below her groin, a mesh nightdress split in front and connected by a ribbon tied in a bow. Lace cups of the nightdress showed her small tits with her hard, dark nipples jutting through. A tiny, G-string covered the front of her mound with a small, sheer pink triangle.

Thin pink garters attached sheer pink hose running smoothly up her legs, accentuating the nudity in the gap between her hose and panties.

She had shaved for Catherine, all those bare pussies she’d seen last night coming to her mind.

“I was going to give you a good talking to, but it looks like you already did a number on yourself all by your lonesome.”

Linda touched her hair, blown, curled, and styled recalling the pin-ups of the 60s, and tilted her head, smiling at Catherine, seductively.

Red, glossy lipstick covered her lips, and blue eyeshadow hovered above her eyes, set off by black mascara.

She liked the natural look of those sweet, sweet girls in the pool last night, but she chose this look for Catherine.

She looked like a prostitute.

A hooker.

A whore.

A lesbian whore offering herself up to any jane with dough.

“You were so mean to your little girl, locking yourself in your room like that, not letting her come in. And she wanted to. She wanted to so much, but you locked the door, didn’t you?”

Linda nodded sadly, ashamed of her behavior last night.

“That’s not what a good mother does, is it? A good mother doesn’t lock her daughter out of her room.”

Linda shook her head.

No, a good mother doesn’t do that.

“But you were scared, weren’t you? You were too scared to lick your daughter’s pussy. You hadn’t done that before, licked a girl’s pussy, eaten a woman out, and you were frightened. Maybe you’d do it wrong? Maybe she wouldn’t like it, the way you licked her, the way you ate her cunt, so wet and hot for you?”

Linda’s shoulders sagged.

She didn’t know how to eat pussy.

“You wanted it to be special for her, didn’t you? You wanted it to be special for her when you put your mouth on her cunt lips.”

Linda’s head bobbed up and down, but she remained quiet. Silent. Thoughtful. Taking in every word Catherine said.

“That’s why I’m going to teach you, and you can tell the girls all about it this afternoon when we get together.”

Linda looked relieved, and she smiled.

“You’re going to learn so much about pleasing a woman today. About how to eat pussy. Because that’s all you’re good for.”

Linda didn’t even have to nod. Every word was true.

“You’re just a pussy eating slut.”

Every word was true.

XXI.

How they’d let them in, all three of them, dressed the way they were, was anybody’s guess.

It just seemed natural to walk into Female Mystique wearing a pink fishnet top, no bra, a denim skirt, loose but short, so short. Crotchless panties so Judith or Sharon could play with her—once they got to their booth, natch.

Sharon, the slut, wore that black outfit she wore earlier. Last week? The week before? Time was so hard.

Without a bra this time, though.

Her nipples stuck clear through.

Well, not like hers. Hers went right through the fishnet. You could actually touch them.

Catherine did, too. Touch them. She touched them a lot, the little minx. Fair play when you thought about it. After all, Linda just couldn’t keep her own hands off the woman.

Not that afternoon.

God, how had she gone so long without the taste of pussy in her mouth?

And that dildo she fucked her with, right there on the sofa, just hammered her until she screamed. Over and over again.

Neighbors might have heard.

Good on them if they did.

Sharon with her black sheer shirt and just about the tightest yoga pants she’d even seen. So sheer, so see-thru. Forming and shaping the curve of Sharon’s naturally darling ass.

Oh god, how was she going to be able to keep her hands off her?

Sit down, sit down girl before I rub one out here at the counter.

At that barista.

Have you ever seen such a cute little thing?

Judith, though. Judith.

That halter top, girl. A cut off T-shirt that only just, only just stopped short of showing her underboob.

And even with her, well, you wouldn’t call it flab, that wasn’t nice, plumpness, the girl looked good, she wore her weight well.

Hot.

Sexy.

Linda just wanted to wrap her arms around her from behind and squeeze, squeeze, squeeze, her tongue, the tip of her tongue sliding up the nape of her neck and down again, kissing her shoulders, her lobes, her neck, smelling her hair, and fondling those wonderful, wonderful milk jugs under what she’d supposed you could call a shirt.

I mean, you had to call it something, and shirt fit as good as anything else.

Oh my god, did that barista really write those names down on the cups?

Foxy, Sexy, and Slut?

Which one was Slut?

Weren’t they all sluts?

Catherine would have to sort that one out.

At the booth, Judith slipped her hand between Linda’s legs, and the woman immediately parted her thighs, opening them instinctively for her friend.

Catherine poured several drops of the flavored creamer in everyone’s cups.

“It’s so nice to see you three finally coming around to who you are. It must have been so hard for you all to have been so turned on by each other and not doing anything about it. Course, now you can fuck each other all day long. I mean, if you want to. It’s definitely something to think about, I imagine.”

The three women devoured each other with their eyes.

Linda sat in the middle of Judith and Sharon, her thighs spread for both friends, both girlfriends, her hips shaking on the seat of the vinyl bench.

Judith’s fingers wriggled into her wet and inviting hole, and Linda thrust her pussy at the ministering hand.

Sharon’s hand caressed Linda’s thigh continually, never breaking contact with her skin, going from knee to just touching the warms lips of her wet pussy, then upwards to her knee again.

Linda looked up from the booth, casting a glance at the rest of the coffee shop.

So many women, and all of them dressed so, well, provocatively, hot.

And they all touched each other so affectionately, so physically.

Linda hadn’t realized before how close the women seemed to be, laughing, talking, drinking their coffee, nuzzling each other, kissing each other’s necks, squeezing each other’s hands, it was all so very friendly.

Girlfriendly.

“You can kiss each other all you want here,” Catherine said. “I don’t think anybody will mind.”

Sharon’s hand lifted from Linda’s knee, and she turned her girlfriend’s head to face her, touching her soft lips on Linda’s lips as soon as her head turned her way.

Linda’s mouth opened, letting Sharon’s tongue in.

“Your daughters are going to spend the night at my house tonight. Monica insists. They’ve all really come a long way at learning how to please a woman. Monica can be very demanding, I’m afraid, but she claims—and I believe her—that all three of your daughters have real talent.”

Linda reached up to hold Sharon’s tit under her sheer pullover and groaned, her voice muffled by Sharon’s tongue.

“I suppose you’ll all find out tomorrow at our pool party.”

Linda heard Judith whimper.

Linda woke up in Sharon’s bed, Judith’s fleshy body pressed against hers from behind, her generous glands smashed against her back. One arm fell over Linda’s side, her hand casually grazing Linda’s graceful but less endowed bust. A momentary thought flashed through her mind that something wasn’t right, that waking up in Sharon’s bedroom, in her bed no less, after a wild night of lesbian passion with her two best friends, her two girlfriends, her two lovers, the taste of their cunt secretions still in her mouth, the feeling of their fingers inside her, as if still in her pussy, in her asshole, that thought flashed through her mind and winged its unregarded way towards that misty realm of forgotten inhibitions.

She heard Judith stir behind her, and Linda flipped over to greet her. She caressed her sides and back, slowly running her hands, her right hand, across the slope of her friend’s hips. She was looking at Judith’s closed eyes when she opened them.

Her brown eyes gleamed in the morning, and Linda kissed the tip of Judith’s nose.

“Good morning, sleepyhead!”

Judith yawned.

“Good morning, both of you,” shouted Sharon, striding through the bedroom door with a tray of coffee and toast.

She still wore the translucent purple dildo strapped around her waist.

“Have a bite to eat and some coffee. Then we’ll go for another round.”

She set the tray on a short ottoman at the foot of the bed.

“Who’s first?” she asked, waving her dildo lewdly.

Linda sat up sharply.

“Me!”

“No fair,” Judith protested.

“It has to be me,” Linda explained, “because you’re going to be on your back, spreading your hot slutty thighs for my hungry tongue.”

Linda rolled Judith over, and pulled her legs apart, kneeling ass up and face down between her friend’s thighs.

“You can return the favor when your turn comes. Right now I need to taste you, baby.”

The bed squeaked, the mattress shook, and Sharon poured lubricant over her cock, and held the tip of it against Linda’s flaring pussy.

Linda felt the tip against the wet opening of her fuckhole and pushed her ass back, taking Sharon’s cock slow and deep, enjoying this moment, this moment of getting fucked by her best friend, enjoying the moment of Sharon’s hands on her hips, her strong grip holding her ass steady as she fucked the dildo deeper and deeper inside her.

Needless to say, the three of them drank cold coffee and toast when the fucking stopped.

“We need to get ready for the pool party,” Sharon stated.

All three hearts raced at the thought of seeing their sexy daughters.

Mother daughter incest.

Empowering.

Liberated.

Sexy.

Lesbian.

“One thing’s for sure,” Sharon said. “I’m glad you got rid of that silly blue one-piece you wore the last time, Linda. You have such a lovely body. I’m glad you’re showing it off now.”

Linda looked down at her swimsuit.

Just the most adorable red string two-piece you could hope to see.

A little fabric to cover her nipples, and a nice little string to sit between her cunt lips.

XXII.

Somehow they all made it safe to Catherine’s house, although with Linda squirming, perched spread-legged on Judith’s lap in the passenger seat, Sharon must have had a hard time keeping her eyes on the road as Judith finger-fucked the horny dyke all the way to the pool party.

Sharon held the two middle fingers of her right hand deep in her own hole, fucking herself silly as she drove, listening to the wet sounds of Judith and Linda making out and moaning into each other’s mouths, the wet, squishy sounds of fingers going in and out of their wet, squishy cunts filling the car.

Along with the smell, the stink, the glorious stink of their hot, saturated pussies gyrating against their hands.

“You owe me big time,” breathed Judith into Linda’s ear. “I’m fucking you, but who’s fucking me?”

Linda jerked her head to kiss Judith and groaned into her mouth, breaking the kiss, lifting her lips from her girlfriend’s sweet, sweet lips, so wet and warm.

“Oh, baby, I’ll be so good to you when we get there, I promise. I’ll be so good to you, just please, fuck me. Fuck me. Oh yeah, there.”

XXIII.

It was so unfair of Catherine to make them wait.

Linda had only come twice on the way to her house, writhing on Judith’s hand and sucking her tongue the whole way there.

And now she couldn’t even touch herself.

It was so unfair.

“Sit properly, girls,” Catherine had admonished. “Just a little longer until your daughters come down. You can wait that long, can’t you, you naughty little mothers?”

Linda was about to shake her head an emphatic no, but Sharon prodded her in the side with her elbow.

They hadn’t sat in their lounge chairs, but in horrible upright seats that left them sitting erect and rigid, thighs pressed tightly together.

“Keep those legs shut, girls, until I say so.”

Unfair.

And just when she thought she wasn’t going to sit for it any longer, just when she decided to plunge her hand between her legs, spread her thighs over the flimsy armrests of her deck chair, and fuck herself to Catherine’s shouts of outraged discipline, the daughters came down.

Oh god, their daughters came down.

Linda groaned when she saw her daughter step over the threshold of the sliding door onto the wide back patio of the house. All four daughters gleamed, oil glistened on their lithe, smooth bodies; their hair had been elegantly styled, some pulled back in loose, curled braids, curled tresses hanging from their temples, framing their young, delicate, and lovely face, some had similar styles, but piled higher over their heads in loose, sweeping buns.

Blue or gold shimmering eyeshadow sparkled above their eyes, and their lips gleamed red or pink or gold with lipstick, and they wore outfits every bit as slutty as their mothers’ swimsuits.

Fine, gold-colored anklets shimmered above their feet, and gold-colored bangles sparkled around their wrists, large hoops dangled from their ears, pierced with many shining bejeweled studs; fine necklaces were draped around their necks, and small gemstones pierced their navels.

Each girl wore a set of strings so thin, only the most generous of the word could describe it as a swimsuit.

The bikinis matched in style but not color, each daughter wore either pink, or green, or blue, with string tops splitting at the breast to show the nipple, and bottoms bifurcating at the groin to expose enlarged and swollen labia.

Lacey’s pubic hair had been trimmed to a small dirty blond triangle above her mons, the mound of Sharon’s daughter Becky had been fully shaved, and Elena, Judith’s daughter, sported a darker brown pubic triangle, a soft brown patch delicately, tastefully split by the string of her yellow bikini.

Linda reached for Sharon’s hand on her left side and squeezed it hard.

“Oh my fucking god,” she hissed.

Judith whimpered.

Her daughter Elena, voluptuous, curvy, massive breasts spilling from the yellow strings of her bikini top, her wide hips so lasciviously, so seductively swaying side to side as she sauntered to her mother’s chair, knelt on the padded floor of the deck area near the pool.

Judith’s hand drifted to her pussy, but the voice of Catherine restrained her.

“No, ladies. Don’t touch yourselves now. I know you’ve been dreaming of your daughters’ lovely pussies for weeks now, just thinking and thinking about touching them, tasting them. Loving them. But first let your daughters show you how much they love you.”

A collective groan, a sigh of longing rose from the three women in their chairs.

Linda watched her daughter Lacey approach, her small body so exquisitely revealed by her green bikini, her smooth and gorgeous skin radiant and shiny with oil, her face so garishly made-up with gold lipstick adorning her mouth, a mouth whose gold-covered lips parted in an almost shy smile.

“Do you like, Mom? Do you like my body?”

Linda’s mind tottered.

Oh fucking god. Oh my fucking god.

Lacey’s baby blue eyes glinted below her shimmering gold eyeshadow. The coils of her hair had been highlighted, turning her dirty blond hair by turns gold and pale blond.

Two long blond tresses coiled in curls wrapped each side of her heart-shaped face.

Linda eyed her daughter with the critical appraisal of motherhood searching anxiously for imperfection.

Lacey’s smile grew wider, showing her teeth, straight and white now that the braces had been removed last year.

Linda’s eyes wandered as much of her daughter’s body as she could see, dwelling her swollen nipples and pink areolas showing through the parted strings of her top, her ears had been pierced by many studs, a thin golden hoop hung from each lobe, a smaller golden hoop pierced the left side of her nose, but Lacey’s smile was still Lacey’s smile, at once friendly and shy, warm and aloof.

With her thick black mascara and eyeliner and her golden eyeshadow edged sharply beyond the corners of her eyes, she looked like an Egyptian servant maiden, a blond slave captured from the north now worshipping at the feet of her queen, and that thought sent a wild shiver from Linda’s clit to her brain.

Lacey placed her soft hands on her mother’s thighs, stroking her skin softly and slowly.

“Oh god, Lacey. I do. I do love your body.”

Lacey licked her gold lips.

“Your turn me on so much,” Linda breathed. “I’m so fucking hot for you.”

But Lacey had been waiting for this moment for as long as her mother had been, and she knew how to take her time.

XXIV.

Lacey pressed her palms against her mother’s knees and pushed her thighs apart. She ran the flats of her hands outward from Linda’s inner thighs, slowly and lightly caressing her mother’s skin, smooth and well-cared for, feeling how her mother trembled almost violently beneath her touch as her palms glided from groin to knee and knee to grow. Linda jerked and gripped the armrests of her chair tightly, clinching her mouth tight. Lacey leaned forward, her fingertips touched the sides of her mother’s vagina, the smooth flat flesh around her vagina touching her thighs.

She leaned forward, touched her nose above her mother’s opening, and kissed her mons lightly.

Then she looked deep into her mother’s eyes, which followed every movement her daughter made.

“I just love the smell of your pussy, Mom.“

She smiled that smile.

“Your pussy smells so nice. Your cunt.”

Linda held her breath as Lacey’s small fingers traced the edges of her lips, pressing between her wet folds, and she shoved her cunt forward, but Lacey giggled.

“Not yet, silly. Not yet, silly mother of mine.”

Linda watched Lacey’s face, so heavily and gaudily painted, a gilded slut serving her older mistress, press close to her pulsing pussy, hover tantalizingly close for a space of a held breath, and then slowly, so slowly kiss the warm skin and salty flesh of her outer labia.

Linda jammed the back of her hand into her mouth, stifling a scream, her legs jerked as her daughter, her own Lacey, so precious and beautiful, inched kiss by slow kiss down the thigh of her right leg, pausing to breath her scent in deeply, pausing to caress her skin with her wet, warm tongue before gliding her lips across her mother’s legs, her golden lipstick sliding easily along the warm and yielding flesh.

When Lacey’s lips came to her mother’s knee, they lingered there, kissing repeatedly the soft round ball of her kneecap, the side of her knee, stretching her leg out to kiss the underside of her knee, grazing her skin with the flat and tip of her pink tongue.

“Oh god, Lacey,” Linda moaned almost incoherently, “that’s so. That feels so.”

But her moans turned into short, frantic breaths.

Lacey could guess what it felt like.

It felt good.

Linda’s eyes glazed over as she watched her daughter kiss and lick her way down her leg, cradling her foot just above her small breasts, heel against her sternum, kissing her until she reached her toes.

Drool dripped from the corner of Linda’s lips.

Lacey held out her smallest toe, grinned impishly at her mother, and ordered her mother to fuck herself.

“Touch your pussy, Mom. I want to see you play with yourself. Squeeze your tits and play with yourself, Mother.”

Then Lacey slipped the smallest toe on Linda’s right foot between the shimmering golden lips of her mouth.

Linda groaned and flung her head side to side, but one of her hands slipped between her legs, stretched so wide now, and the other hand gripped her tit, brushing the thin fabric of her bikini aside to massage her breast and pinch her hard, hard nipples. From time to time she licked her fingers to get her nipples wet, continually moving from breast to breast, intoxicated by the shocks of pleasure shooting through her body.

The other hand slowly traveled the flat of her stomach.

“Look at me, Mother. Look at me while you fuck yourself.”

Linda didn’t realize her eyes were closed.

Lacey’s blue eyes shone in their halo of gold and shimmer.

Linda’s hand glided over the slope of her mound, felt between her wet lips. Her middle finger parted her labia, wet and hot, and she massaged her fleshy lips, extended and curled like the intricate folds of a flower, making sure to keep her blue eyes focused on Lacey’s blues eyes as she stroked her pussy and pummeled her clit with the back of the knuckles of her middle finger.

One by one Lacey sucked Linda’s toes.

She reveled in the sensation, so erotic, playful, and goofy all at the same time.

“Do you like this, whore-mother? Do you like watching your daughter suck on your toes while you fuck her hot pussy with your dyke hands? Does it turn you on, Mom? Do I turn you on?”

Linda nodded her head, her glazed pupils stuck to her daughter.

“Then say it, whore.”

Hearing her daughter call your by such filthy names through gasoline on the fire of the woman’s lust, and she arched her spine in a sudden and unexpected orgasm.

“Oh god, Lacey. You do. You fucking turn me on so much.”

Lacey continued sucking on her mother’s toes as she watched the older woman come and come.

When Linda started to regain a little composure, Lacey pulled her mouth away from her mother’s foot.

“Call me a filthy slut. Call me a dirty, pussy-eating, dyke slut.”

“Oh god, Lacey. You are. You’re just a dirty, filthy slut, a dirty whore who just wants to eat her mother’s pussy over and over and over again.”

Lacey looked down and smiled at Linda’s fingers pumping in and out of her wet pussy. Sloppy, wet noises rose from her mother’s cunt, and Lacey’s eyes traveled back to her mother’s eyes.

“I am. I am going to eat your pussy now, Mother,” said Lacey.

Lacey couldn’t wait any longer. Her mother’s pussy called her, her mother’s pussy stretched and glistened wet and dripping in front of her, and she could no longer put off what she wanted more than anything in this world. To taste the nectar from her mother’s cunt.

XXV.

Linda moved her hand away as Lacey’s face neared her steaming snatch. She stroked the back of her head lightly with her palm, feeling the silky softness of her daughter’s hair as she pressed her head against her hot pussy, spread wide and eager for her daughter’s lips and tongue.

“Lick me, baby. Lick Mommy’s dirty cunt.”

The scent rising from Linda’s pussy, warm and quivering just in front of Lacey’s eyes and nose, filled her with a smoldering desire, a drunken lust for her mother’s fuckhole.

She had come from there, and now she was come back.

Lacey stuck her tongue out and licked the salty, tangy, sticky, wet outsides of Linda’s vagina, the tip of her tongue remorselessly and slowly moving up and down each side of the woman’s cleft, avoiding direct contact, avoiding direct taste, evading the nub sequestered in its folded hood.

Linda’s hips jerked, and she took her other hand to grip Lacey’s head in both hands, forcing her daughter’s mouth directly over her aching hole.

“I said eat me, girl. Eat me now.”

It was a guttural, wild order, rising from a depth Linda didn’t know she concealed, and emerged from her throat like a rumbling peal of thunder rising to a sudden, plaintive squeal.

“Please? Please, baby? Please lick my pussy?”

And Lacey licked.

Linda’s lips extended lewdly from her hole, coiled, curled, two wings of succulent flesh, wet. Hot. Tangy. Leading to her center, the warm wetness of her pussy hole, her vaginal canal so open and exposed to her daughter’s probing tongue and tongue-tip.

Lacey licked her pussy hole, nibbled each rippled, softly ragged lip with her golden lips, and sucked on the hard nub of her mother’s clit, now flicking it with her tongue, now placing her mouth over the hood to suck it away from her mother’s mons until her mother screamed, and groaned, and cried out, and came. Again. And again. And again.

And when the pair rose from the deck chair to lie down on the soft matted floor running between the house and the pool, Linda scrambled on top of her daughter, kissing her wildly, her tongue probing deep inside her daughter’s mouth, sliding easily between her daughter’s painted golden lips.

When she finally broke her kiss, she moved her head to kiss Lacey’s ear.

“It’s my turn now, baby. It’s so my turn now. I’m going to fuck your pussy with my tongue, girl.”

She pulled away, lifting her head directly above Lacey’s flushed face.

Linda grinned broadly.

“Your lesbian whore pussy.”

Linda’s head moved between Lacey’s outstretch legs.

“I’ve been thinking about this for so long.”