copyright: Lesley Tara, 2014
How could I have not known this about my Mom?! I mean, how ... just how could I possibly have NOT KNOWN?? and, y’know – about my MOM!!
I was literally dumbstruck as I looked down at the opened wrapping paper and black cardboard box that were resting on my knees ... or, rather, as I looked down at what was IN the box. And then, with a pounding heart and a dry mouth, I read for the third or fourth time the neat writing on the small coloured gift-tag that had been inside the box:
Darling Sandra – I’ll be back soon, wear this for me and make my day! I’ll sure COME to see you!! Happy birthday, your loving Diane xxx
With trembling fingers, I picked up the object that nestled neatly inside the box. In full view, it was even more unmistakeable: a strap-on harness with a thick ribbed black plastic dildo attached! There could be no mistaking its use, or misunderstanding the note: it was something that lesbians used to fuck each other, and the note was to my Mom from her long-time ‘best friend’. I snorted, suddenly understanding the warmth of that friendship in an entirely new way.
That took me back again to the question whirling around inside my head: how could I have not realised the true nature of their relationship? How could I have not realised that my Mom was ... no, IS ... a lesbian? It was not like I was a little kid any more, from whom the grown-ups could quite easily keep such a secret, avoiding questions and diverting the child onto other topics. Jesus, I was almost seventeen years old, and not exactly naive! ... not exactly inexperienced, either, although (and I admitted to myself the irony of this) that was something I hadn’t exactly been telling my Mom about!
As to how I had made this astonishing discovery, which in a single moment had turned my whole world upside down and made me re-evaluate almost every memory that I had ever had – well, it was a chapter of coincidences and assumptions, but by comparison it was easy enough to understand.
My Mom and I had a lot in common – maybe too much, I thought now! There had always been just the two of us: Mom got pregnant in a completely unplanned way when she was only 18 years old, and she was not really even in a relationship with my father – he was just a boy her own age, and it happened at party when she drank a bit too much to say no. When three months later she realised she was expecting, she didn’t want to tie him down – or tie herself to him either. But neither did she want to give up her baby, and so with her parents’ support she postponed going to college, had me, took evening courses and eventually qualified as a lawyer, and then slowly built up a career. When I was six years old, we moved out of my grandparents’ house to our own apartment, nearer to the centre of town, and that’s how it has been ever since – Mom and me.
Two things that Mom and I had in common had contributed to my devastating discovery of the strap-on dildo. The first was that our birthdays were only ten days apart: hers had been just over a week ago, and mine – my seventeenth, which I was pretty excited about – was the very next day. The second thing was that we shared the same initial, although a lot of people who knew us didn’t realise that. They know Mom as Sandra, the name she’s been called from childhood, not realising that it is actually short for Alexandra – and my name is Angela; Mom chose it because she said I was a gift from the angels.
So it was that when, a few minutes after I got home from school today, this package was delivered, addressed to ‘Ms A. Benson’, I had just assumed that it was for me. It was a standard plain UPS mailing box, and when I opened it, just as expected there inside it was another box, this one carefully wrapped in shiny gift-paper with a ‘Happy Birthday’ motif. Now the pattern of the last few years has been that I keep back the family presents from my mother, grandparents, aunts and uncles (I have two of each) to open on my actual birthday, but that the other presents – from my own friends and a few of my Mom’s long-standing friends who had been regular babysitters when I was a child and who are my honorary aunties – were opened as they arrived, which spread the fun out over several days.
It just never crossed my mind that this might be a late present for Mom’s birthday which had somehow got delayed in the post – her birthday seemed ages ago, I was so fixated on anticipating mine. So, with great glee and pleasure, I ripped open the lovely shiny gift-wrap, found the black oblong cardboard box inside and eagerly opened it – to my resulting shock and dismay.
I knew at once not only what it was for, but also who it was from – and what was meant by the language of the little note that had been inside the box, resting on top of that frightening and amazing phallic plastic rod. For around ten years now, Diane has been my Mom’s best friend (well, duh!, now we know why, I thought to myself!). They had met quite early in their professional careers – actually, it was around the time that we moved out from my grandparents’ house to our own apartment; it was during one of my Mom’s first jobs, and they were both juniors at the same large law firm. No, wait a minute, Diane is a couple of years younger than Mom, and is only thirty-three – I remember now, she was interning there after finishing college, in fact they met when she was assigned to help Mom prepare a complicated case. They hit it off straight away, and though soon afterwards they both moved on to new jobs with different firms, they have stayed great friends ever since.
A thought suddenly struck me like a blow to the solar plexus, almost knocking the wind out of me. Shit! – have they been lovers all this time, all these years? Maybe they have, I thought, seeing some old memories in a strange new light – dear Lord, I think they have! It had never seemed odd to me that Mom did not have a boyfriend or even go out on dates – I was happy to be the centre of her attention (solely, I had assumed until now), and balancing a successful legal career with being a single-parent was more than enough for anyone to do. Nor had it seemed odd that Diane was resolutely single – she was ambitious, clever and hard-working, and was making a real name for herself: in fact, only about a year ago, she was made a partner at her law firm.
Thinking back now, I realised that Diane had been around a lot after they first met – she used to come to the apartment every weekend, arriving around the middle of Saturday afternoon, and then chatting with me and helping me with my homework whilst Mom did some chores and made my meal. Then, whilst Mom oversaw my bath and bedtime, Diane would cook a grown-up dinner for the two of them – cooking was one of her few relaxations, she always said (and now I know the other one, a voice inside my head remarked: lesbo fucking with my Mom!). I had always assumed that after eating they sat around chatting over a couple of glasses of wine, or maybe watched some television or a film, and that Diane left sometime mid-evening – I never heard her go, but then I would be fast asleep, so I never expected to. Now I realised that almost certainly something very different had been going on, maybe in the sitting room with the TV turned on to cover any sounds, but more probably in Mom’s bed, and probably Diane had stayed most of the night and did not leave until dawn.
Other pieces of the jigsaw suddenly fell into place – Diane had visited us less often as I got older, but quite regularly Mom would arrange a babysitter for Saturday night and tell me that she and Diane were going out for a few drinks, or maybe a movie, ‘to have a little fun’. Yeah, right, I thought sourly, I have the feeling that this ‘fun’ all took place in Diane’s bedroom, and they probably never left her apartment at all!
More recently, having become something of an authority in her particular legal specialism, Mom has been doing more consultancy work, which she can do best from home over the internet: there is more peace and quiet to concentrate here, especially with me out at high school for most of the day. So Mom usually works at home for one or two days a week, and on most of them when I come home from school Diane would be sitting with her in the kitchen having coffee, having ‘just dropped by for a while on her way home’. Mom always seemed happier and more relaxed after Diane’s visits, even sometimes quite flushed, which I had thoughtlessly put down to the pleasure of gossiping and joking with a friend – but now it dawned on me after reading Diane’s note that she probably arrived much earlier than I had assumed, and these afternoons were their regular lesbian love-making sessions.
How had I not realised any of this? Well, I guess when their affair first developed I was much too young to understand what was going on, and their ‘friendship’ was just the normal background to our life as I grew up. I had to admit, they had been careful and discrete about it – indeed, until this delayed and misdirected package had given the game away, I had had no idea at all about what was going on! One reason for that was probably the self-absorption typical of every teenager, giving little thought to what goes on around them as they struggle with the challenges of puberty and immaturity. However, during the last year I had been even more preoccupied than most teenage girls, because it was now clear that Mom and I have one more thing in common than I had hitherto suspected – one very major fundamental thing indeed!
Yep, you’ve guessed it – I’m a lesbian too! The understanding of my sexual orientation dawned on me nearly a year ago, not long after my sixteenth birthday, as I became aware that I had no interest in boys or in doing things with boys (yuk!) – or, what would be even more unpleasant, in letting them do things to me (mega-mega-yuk!!). At the same time, especially after a vivid crush on a pretty young female teacher at my school, I realised that I was developing stronger and stronger sexual feelings about girls. And I guess I really am my Mom’s daughter, because all of this focused on my sweet long-time best friend, Carrie-Anne, who to my everlasting joy and relief I had slowly discovered felt just the same kind of attraction to me. We started just fooling around physically for a while, joking and pretending that it was only girlish fun, before we accepted the truth and became lovers seven months ago, quite soon after Carrie-Anne turned sixteen (she is four months younger than me). I was staying at her house for a sleepover, but instead of staying in my sleeping bag on the air bed on her bedroom floor, we had kissed and undressed each other and then got naked into her bed, where I stayed until the dawn, as we explored each other’s budding femininity with our fingers and lips, coaxing each other to a series of powerful and drenching climaxes.
From that sweet memory, my thoughts returned with a sick lurch to my immediate problem. Glancing downwards, I realised that it was going to be impossible to pretend that the package had not been opened. Whilst I could perhaps have used some fresh paper to re-wrap the inner box, as we had some birthday paper in the house, that would not solve the real problem: in my eagerness, I had torn open the end of the outer UPS mailing box, and there was no way that this could be patched together. At the same time, I realised that my mother would be horrified and deeply embarrassed for me to have discovered her sexuality and her lesbian relationship in this way – she would get upset, and in her distress she might very well get angry with either myself or Diane, or both of us, none of which was going to make the situation any better.
This whole mess was beyond my resources to deal with – but I suddenly realised who could sort it out! I could take the package to Diane – I would have to tell her what had happened, which would be bad enough – and try to persuade her to keep this a secret, to say nothing about having posted it, and instead give it to my Mom in person next time she saw her. I also realised that Diane might be at her apartment right now, rather than at work. The reason for this was the same reason that had led to her posting my Mom’s present: Diane had been out of town for nearly three weeks, as part of the legal team on a major case being heard in Chicago, but I knew that it had finished the previous day and that she was flying back this morning. She had phoned Mom yesterday, and I had overheard part of the conversation – particularly Mom’s pleasure at hearing that Diane was returning. I had been rushing around, getting ready to go out for my netball team practice, but I now recalled that just before I left Mom was saying something like ‘no, not yet, but I’ll look out for it’, which of course had not meant anything particular to me at the time.
I sat for a minute or two longer, trying to think of any other solution, but nothing else remotely workable came to mind. I was going to have to summon up the courage and face this, for my Mom’s sake – and, I guess, for my own as well. I picked up the phone and dialled Diane’s home number, not quite sure whether I was praying for her to answer or not to answer. However, my guess turned out to be correct, and after about the fifth ring, I heard the familiar warm tones of my Mom’s best friend – and lesbian lover.
‘Oh! ... mmm, hi, Diane – it’s, umm, it’s Angie ... yeah ... fine, thanks’, I said, the last two words coming in a purely automatic response to her enquiry. I rallied, and continued: ‘well, actually, no – not fine, err, I need to talk to you ... no, I mean in person, please, if you can ... yes, well, now really ... yes, it is kinda urgent ... thanks, great ... yeah, no I’ll come right over ... about fifteen minutes, yep ... thanks, bye!’
Diane’s apartment was not that far away, which I had never previously considered was remarkable; in fact, it probably wasn’t – there were several good districts on this side of the city centre favoured by middle-class professional and business people, and a lot of Mom’s work colleagues lived not far away too. I put the strap-on back into its box and then slid that into the opened UPS box, gathered up the torn wrapping paper, and put it all in my backpack. Then I hurried from our building out onto the pavement and set off for Diane’s block, with a nervous flutter of butterflies in my stomach.
I had been to her apartment before, but only for about half a dozen times in total – it seemed that it was always Diane who visited us, which I suppose made sense when I was young and needed looking after, and had an early bed-time. My guess at the timing proved right, and I arrived after walking quite briskly for just over ten minutes. A press on the button for Diane’s third-floor flat was followed by her giving me a cheerful greeting, and buzzing the release for the front door of the block. I took the lift up to her floor and walked down the corridor to the door of her apartment, paused for a moment to screw up my courage, and knocked.
Almost immediately, the door opened and Diane greeted me with her usual warm smile. However, knowing what I knew now, I could not help but regard her in a completely new way – as a sexual adult woman, and an experienced mature lesbian. There was no doubt that at thirty-three years old, Diane was still attractive, very attractive. She had always kept herself trim and fit, and she always had an air of lively energy about her. Diane was an inch or so taller than me (I am five feet seven inches), with light brunette hair that fell straight in a smart but feminine cut to brush her shoulders – a contrast with the rich cascade of almost black curls that both Mom and I have down to our shoulder-blades. She was dressed in casual clothes (flip-flops, a faded blue denim mini-skirt, and a plain white short-sleeve T-shirt, under which the outline shape of a white bra could be seen) which nevertheless showed off her attractive figure: long slim legs, firm rounded ass, narrow waist and – most of all – jutting chest. Diane had always had more curves than my Mom, and her breasts were at least three bra sizes bigger; as she turned sideways in her apartment doorway to usher me inside, I couldn’t help my eyes being drawn to her ripe and alluring profile.
I followed Diane through to the sitting-room of her apartment, on the way politely declining her offer of coffee or fruit juice. Instead of sitting in the armchair that Diane gestured towards, I placed my backpack on its seat and perched my butt on its arm.
‘Well, Angie, it’s always nice to see you, honey, but what’s so urgent?’ enquired my Mom’s friend – no, I corrected myself, her lover – with a pleasant but slightly puzzled smile.
I took a deep breath, overcame a last reluctant hesitation, and drew the UPS mailing carton out of my backpack.
‘This came this afternoon and, well, I just assumed ... y’know, that it was for my birthday ... so, well, anyway – I opened it’, I replied, and whilst speaking I slid the neat black box out from inside the mailing carton and removed its lid, revealing the unmistakeable plastic phallus of the strap-on and the note resting on top if it.
‘Oh?’ said Diane, and then, as she registered what I was holding, her voice went up an octave: ‘OH!! Oh, heavens above, you know – oh, no! you know about us!’
Her eyes wide with dismay, Diane clapped a hand across her mouth, and sank down bonelessly onto the sofa opposite.
‘Wha ... wha ...what are you going to do?’ she stuttered, almost in a state of shock.
‘Mom mustn’t know’, I said; ‘I mean, she mustn’t know that I opened the present, and she mustn’t know that I know about ... about you and her. It would upset her terribly for me to find out like this ... I want her to tell me at her own time, when she’s ready, and not like this – so we’re gonna sort this out, you and me, and then I’ll pretend that I don’t know anything about what’s going on – been going on – between the two of you. Is that a deal?’
‘Yes ...’ whispered Diane in relief, ‘yes ... of course. Well, I can rewrap it, of course ...’
‘Exactly!’ I said, and then added the bright idea that had come to me whilst walking to Diane’s: ‘and then you can say it went astray in the post and ended up being returned to you, here, as the sender – and then you can give it to her in person, and she’d never think that I might have seen it!’
‘Right, yes, sure’, Diane responded, clearly relieved to be offered a practical way out of our immediate dilemma, but then she looked at me again, nervously and rather shyly.
‘Are you OK?’ she asked, ‘I mean, are you OK with this ... with your Mom and I being ... well ... lovers, being lesbians?
‘Yeah, yeah, I am ... I mean, right now I’m getting still used to the idea, you know’, I reassured her.
Then I looked at the floor for a moment, before raising my eyes to look Diane boldly in the face.
‘There’s one more thing – I want you to get me one of these’, I said, gesturing at the strap-on harness and dildo in their box.
‘What?’ gasped Diane, ‘what d’you mean, you want one of these? Angie – why?’
I had crossed my Rubicon now, and there was no point in holding anything back.
‘I want it for me’, I answered, trying to speak calmly; ‘or rather, I want it for Carrie-Anne – I want to fuck her with it!’ and I added, by way of explanation: ‘all we’ve got at the moment is a shampoo bottle that’s kind of tube-shaped with a rounded end – it doesn’t work that well, and it’s nothing like the size of that monster!’
‘Ahh!’ Diane exclaimed, ‘so you’re a ... I mean, you and Carrie-Anne, you’re lovers? Well, I should’ve guessed ... actually, from something she said recently, I think your Mom’s started to wonder!’
‘Maybe that’s a good thing’, I responded; ‘I’ll start dropping some hints, and perhaps tell her definitely in a couple of weeks. Maybe that’ll give her a good way of telling me about her and you.’
Diane looked down at the dildo resting in the box on my knee. She swallowed, and then said:
‘OK, if that’s what you really want, I guess I can get you one of these – but, what if your Mom finds it, have you thought of that?’
I reassured her that there were several places in our apartment where I could hide it, where Mom would never go, and – as Diane still looked dubious – I added the promise that if it should be discovered before I had a chance to ‘come out’ to my Mom, I would say that I had got it by mail order, and Diane’s name would never be mentioned. She looked relieved at that, but then raised another concern. Nodding at the box on my knee, she asked:
‘Are you sure you want one exactly like this? I mean, it’s really big and long ... it’s not really one for a girl ... I mean, can Carrie-Anne take that?’
I had a sudden vivid mental image of my sweet girlfriend on her hands and knees on the floor, completely naked – or maybe just with that hot little cheerleader skirt of hers flipped up above her waist, her blonde pony-tail thrown back over her shoulders, her bubble-butt ass stuck out towards me, her legs spread wide enough to expose the parted glistening folds of her pussy, and of me wearing the strap-on, grasping her hips with both hands and slamming the dildo into her pussy as hard as I could, and then pumping it in and out as she shrieked in ecstasy. The mental picture gave me a sudden hot flush of arousal in my pussy, and I almost had to clamp my legs together so as not to come on the spot’.
‘Oh yeah’, I answered, a husky note in my voice: ‘she’ll take it like a bitch!’
‘Jesus!’ breathed Diane, staring at me in wonder, ‘you sounded just like Sandra then, exactly like her! That same certainty, that same determination – just like her!’
I preened with satisfaction at the comparison, unconsciously sitting a little straighter and giving a slight toss of my head and shoulders to shake my curls down my back.
‘Wow! you look just like her too’, gasped Diane, ‘I mean, you looked then just like she did when we first ... when I first her. Maybe a bit younger, you look like she must have as a teen ...’ She gave a little shiver, and finished: ‘... ah, that takes me right back!’
‘Yeah?’ I enquired, even more pleased, for my Mom was and is a very striking woman, and her slim figure, her stylish dress sense, and – most of all – her unmistakeable confidence and authority still turn heads wherever she goes. I was suddenly curious, and asked:
‘So, when did you and Mom ... start to ... do you remember?’
Diane laughed, though her eyes were still intently upon me. ‘Babe, I’ll never forget, ever! I guess it’ll soon be coming up to eleven years now ... I’d been assigned as an intern to work for your Mom, and on the second day she asked me to stay on late to finish some work, and then when we were alone she put me across her desk and fucked me till I nearly fainted ... no one had ever taken me like that, never before ... and, well, I’ve been hers ever since!’
‘Wow – that’s so hot!’ I said, fascinated by my new understanding of my mother; ‘so it’s Mom who takes the lead, then, who’s in charge?’
‘Oh, yes!’ Diane affirmed, ‘I’ve always been bottom to her top – except just occasionally she likes it the other way round ... but even then I guess she’s still calling the shots, and I love to do whatever she wants.’
Well, well, I thought, here’s yet more that Mom and I have in common – for I have always been the initiator with Carrie-Anne, right from our very first fooling around; in our relationship, she is the submissive one, and there’s no doubt that she enjoys it even more when I get all heated up and forceful and aggressive with her: she’s such a pretty femme, it brings out the real domme in me – and now I know where I get that from. Yeah, if I’d had big-boob tight-ass Diane working as my cute intern, I’d have taken the first opportunity to bang her senseless as well, and sweep her away!
The picture that Diane’s words had painted was incredibly erotic, and together with the emotional backwash of my discovery of Mom’s sex life and my anxiety over having opened her present, and then the prospect of acquiring a superb strap-on with which I could shaft my cute girlfriend, it all made for a heady and explosive mixture. I could feel almost a starburst of heat and warmth and wet lust go off between my legs. I was looking down at Diane from my perch on the side of the armchair, and found that the view was dominated by the swell of her full breasts – which was the last straw.
There was no doubt that Diane was very turned on as well. She sat on the sofa, staring breathlessly up at me with a gleam in her eyes and a sudden flush in her cheeks. An even clearer tell-tale was provided by her bust, for now her hardened nipples were sticking out like little twin peaks through the fabric of her bra and cotton T-shirt. I could actually smell a faint trace of musky scent from her pussy, which was clearly wetting her panties.
I realised that until my revelation about fucking Carrie-Anne, Diane had never thought of me in a sexual context either – but suddenly her lover’s little girl, so familiar for so long, had vanished and been replaced by this stunning sexy vibrant teen, all pert tits and jutting tush, a nubile novice lesbian panting for sexual pleasure. Now we were both intensely aware of each other’s feminine curves, carnal potential and – there was no doubting it – immediate and total sexual availability!
Diane gazed at me in wide-eyed arousal, and her lips parted as she licked along them with a flick of the tip of her tongue – an unconscious invitation that sent an electrifying shiver down my spine, stiffening my tits into almost painful erection. I kept my eyes locked on hers as I slid off the side of the armchair to stand in front of her, towering over her for a few seconds to establish my undisputed dominance. Then I just acted on instinct, cupping my hand under her chin and leaning forwards to speak with absolute authority:
‘So ... you like to be taken, do you? You just want to be taken, bitch, don’t you?!’
Diane swallowed and nodded mutely, her eyes wide with the most delicious combination of apprehension and desire. With both hands, I took grip on her shoulders and pushed – I used barely any pressure, but at once with a mewling whimper the submissive woman toppled onto her back, lying sprawled along the sofa as I swiftly straddled across her hips and pinned her in place.
‘Oh, no – Angie, no, you mustn’t ... we shouldn’t ...’ gasped my Mom’s lover, but it was the faintest of protests, a mere token, empty of any meaning or strength of will, and more than overtrumped by her very evident desire to be dominated and used. Diane offered no physical resistance at all, lying supine beneath me and gazing upwards in anticipatory surrender.
I was possessed by a sudden charge of dominating sexual energy – it was as if I was wired up to a power generator, and someone had just flipped a switch to ramp up the voltage. I relished the prospect of having this mature woman, this experienced lesbian ... Jesus! I thought to myself with incredulous delight, I’m taking a bitch twice my age! and I’m gonna fuck her and fuck her till she can’t take it any more and begs for release – and then I’ll fuck the bitch some more!
I grasped Diane’s left breast through her T-shirt and the plain white bra beneath, and ferociously squeezed her ripe mound. She moaned and writhed under me, her eyes half-closed as she relished the erotic stimulation. Whether consciously intended or not, her hips thrust upwards under me, grinding the swell of her pelvis against the gusset of my panties, as I straddled across her with my legs arched wide apart. That further abrasive stimulus was all that I needed to throw discretion to the winds – I was suffused with lust and determined to slake it, whatever the cost. As I leaned over her, my nipples were stiff little points poking into my plain white school shirt, and I relished the way in which Diane’s eyes were locked onto them, as if she was hypnotised by the sway of my breasts above her.
‘I’m gonna have you, bitch ... you’re mine, you slut, I’m having your cunt, right now!’ I growled.
‘Aaaahhh, yes!’ replied Diane, almost sobbing, ‘oh, fucking hell! Yes, yes, yes! Take me, Angie, please – take me now!’
I reached down to her midriff and pulled the T-shirt up to her armpits, exposing her stunning full breasts in their simple plain white underwired bra. I shoved both of my hands in underneath the bra cups from below, thrusting the garment upwards and seizing the naked flesh of each mammary. Again I mashed and mauled them, and then rubbed the ball of my thumb across her engorged nipples, sending quaking shivers throughout her body.
I was so fired up, there was no time or room for gentleness or subtlety here, indeed barely anything in the way of foreplay at all – and what there was, was solely driven by my needs. I guess that since my lesbian sexual awakening I had somehow managed to suppress from my conscious thoughts the luscious attractiveness of Diane’s curvaceous figure, and especially her bulging all-natural 32-E cup breasts above her trim narrow waist. Now I made up for lost time, rubbing them and pinching them and yanking and tweaking her tits. She began to jerk beneath me – not with any effort to get free, but from the nerve flashes that speared from her abused boobs straight to her soaking slit.
‘Oh my God, fucking fuck me, fuck me!’ wailed Diane, as she lost all of her inhibitions and any last shreds of self-control.
I relinquished her breasts, reached down to her waist and tugged her blue denim mini-skirt up above her hips. I gazed down in fascination at the quite austere plain white panties that were revealed – and the tell-tale wide dark patch over her crotch, where her flowing juices were soaking into them. With a feral grin, I reached with my forefinger to the centre of the wet patch, like an arrow flying true to the bull’s eye of the target. As I pressed down, pushing a fold of sodden cotton into the furrow of flesh beneath it, Diane gave a shudder. She closed her eyes for a second, and then opened them wide. All pretence was over now, as was any illusion that she was anything other than a puppet on my strings.
‘Aaaahh, oh fuck! yes! – Angie, please, use me, do me, fuck me now! – fuck me hard, fuck me so fucking hard!!’
What was it that Marlon Brando said in ‘The Godfather’? – oh yeah, ‘I’ll make them an offer they can’t refuse’. Well, I sure as hell wasn’t going to refuse this offer, you can bet your ass on it ... mmm, in fact, please do!
I shifted a little down Diane’s legs and hooked my thumbs into the waistband of her panties at each hip. She obligingly kept her thighs together and lifted her butt an inch or so off the sofa, making it easy for me with one swift tug to pull her panties right down to her ankles and then over her feet (the flip-flops having already flopped off). Turning back to my conquest, I placed my hands on the inside of each thigh just above the knee, and gently pushed outwards. At once, the mature submissive lesbian moved to obey the implicit command, spreading her legs apart and giving me my first full view of her cunt. As I expected, Diane’s pussy was smooth and fully-shaven, and her labia were projecting visibly at each side of her glistening gash.
Letting her stew in her own juices – quite literally – for a moment, I stepped off the sofa and quickly discarded the white shirt and tartan pleated mini-skirt that were part of my school uniform, which I had still been wearing when the mailman had knocked on the door with his package of dynamite. I kept on my bra, my knee-high white socks, my black shoes and – for another moment – my panties. Turning to face Diane, I took her left hand and placed it against my cunt, massaging my aching pussy with the heel of the older woman’s palm. Then I gestured to my panties, and gave my orders in a lust-soaked husky tone:
‘Take them down, bitch, take them off me!’
Diane swallowed and nodded, for refusal was far from her mind. With a wondering expression on her face, she reached out and peeled my tight panties down my legs, gazing with reverence at the trim teenage mound that came into view. When my mother’s lover had tugged my panties down below my knees, I took hold of them again and whisked them the rest of the way to the floor, stepped out of them and kicked them aside. Next, I knelt down on the floor for a second, reached into the black cardboard box, and then rose with supple youthful grace to my feet – with the strap-on harness and dildo triumphantly clutched in my right hand!
‘Eeeeekk!’ squealed Diane at the sight, with a mixture of surprise, fear and lust; ‘aaahh, Angie ... oh, no, you shouldn’t ... oh, my God!’
‘This is mine now!’ I declared, with a rasp in my voice; ‘you can get another one for Mom tomorrow – I’m having this, and I’m having YOU!’
Diane gave a little whimper, but made no other protest. She lay supinely on her back, with legs spread apart and cunt exposed, and gazed up at me in wide-eyed amazement. Putting the harness on wasn’t exactly rocket science; it was clear enough which bits went where, and then it was just a matter of setting the buckles to a comfortable tightness. However, what was new and unexpected was the sight of the great ribbed plastic pole sticking out from my crotch, and the way in which its weight hung on my hips and its projecting spear both unbalanced me and yet made me acutely aware of exactly where the tip of the dildo was. I found it incredibly arousing to have this phallic appendage – it seemed somehow just right for me, and I was consumed with a fiery desire to sink its rigid hardness deep into some soft surrendering female flesh.
I turned back to Diane, and this time I straddled across her chest, exciting myself by letting my naked butt settle on her pillowed breasts. But the reason for this position was not for that delight, but another more obvious purpose. Leaning forward, I brought the dildo to the older woman’s mouth, which opened at once to receive it. I slid about four inches into Diane’s mouth, as she avidly sucked and slurped, coating it with lubricating saliva.
After about thirty seconds of this, I could wait no more. I had to have this hot mature lezzie, and have her right NOW! I pulled the strap-on away from her face, slid back down the sofa to kneel between her widespread thighs, leaned forwards until the tip of the plastic phallus was resting against the middle of Diane’s slit – and then with no more ceremony, I bucked my hips and drove it into her hole, fast and deep and hard.
Diane screamed in anguish – but was it not a scream of pain, it was the howl of pent-up desire finding its release, the shriek of the dam breaking, the cry of the prize won. I gripped the bitch’s hips for leverage and began to pump the dildo in and out, each time with greater punishing force. It was devastating, it was destructive, but most of all it was exactly the way (so she told me later) that my Mom fucked Diane, especially if she’d not had her for a few days – and it was this, more than anything, that really blew Diane’s mind. In her titty-bursting pussy-flooding cunt-drilled roller-coaster ride to orgasm, my Mom and I blurred together, and it was as if she was being fucked stupid by a glorious young teenage Sandra ... which just so happened to be one of Diane’s oldest and most powerful fantasies.
Me, I was just living for the ride, existing inside each second because it was so pure, so complete, and so vibrant with power. My pelvis swivelled on my hips like a demented pumping machine, pistoning the plastic rod into and out of Diane’s uncharted depths. The woman gave a hoarse cry, and reached up with her hands to grasp my bracing arms, like a drowning sailor might seize a life-belt. Her grip was desperate, her fingers digging into my upper arms as if she was clinging on for life itself. Diane’s mouth was gaping open, saliva drooling from one corner, and her eyes stared almost blindly at me. With another scream, this one in a deeper register that seemed to explode from her throat, her back arched and she drove her pelvis upwards against me, meeting my hardest inwards thrust half-way. The thirty-three year old’s body shook and quivered, and a warm trickle of sticky transparent cum-juice coursed from the bottom of her battered slit.
Diane slumped back bonelessly after her orgasm, panting like a landed fish, but I was far from finished. I pulled the dildo out of her vagina, which made a soft sucking ‘plop’ sound as the device slid free from her oozing hole. I let her have maybe ten seconds to catch her breath, and then I pulled her crumpled T-shirt over her head and gave her a firm smack on her left thigh.
‘Roll over, bitch!’ I instructed; ‘get on the floor, on your hands and knees, you dirty lezzie slut – you ain’t done yet, oh no, you cunt – you’ve got more to come, yeah – lots more, and you will come, you bitch, you sure will, ha ha!’
‘Oh! oh dear God, Angie ... please! ... oh, please ...’ mumbled Diane, although it was quite unclear whether she was begging me to stop or to carry on. Not that it mattered, for the mature submissive lesbian didn’t get a vote in this – I wanted more of her pussy, and I was gonna have it! In fact, whatever thoughts were spinning in her head, Diane moved at once to comply, limply rolling sideways off the sofa to flop face-down on the carpet. For a moment, she lay there inertly, sprawled on her stomach and panting softly for breath. However, I gave her an impatient prod in the ribs with the toe of my sensible black school shoes, and with a struggle she groggily clambered up onto her hands and knees. Her back was sheened with sweat and her head hung down between her shoulders as if it was too great a weight to hold up, with her light brown hair curtaining her face from view.
I reached forwards and undid the clasp in the middle of the backband of her white bra, and let its straps fall down her arms until the empty bra cups landed on the carpet beneath her. She was now naked apart from the denim mini-skirt, which I rucked up higher around her waist, almost like a belt – I didn’t remove it, because I felt with her, as also often when fucking Carrie-Anne, that an almost naked female is even more attractive than a completely nude one, because leaving some scraps of clothing in place only serves to draw attention to how much has been removed, and how vulnerable are the pussy and tits now exposed. Thinking of the latter, I raked my nails down Diane’s spine from the base of her neck to the start of the cleft of her buttocks, making her quiver to my touch, and then ran my fingers around her ribs and under her chest, to scoop up her pendulously swaying breasts and cup their soft malleable heaviness in my palms. I took her nipples between each of my thumbs and forefingers, rubbed them back and forth vigorously, and finished with a sharp tug before releasing them. Diane moaned in response at this stimulus, and her back arched, thrusting her butt up and out towards me – just where I wanted it!
My own bra was itching me now, as my tits were so aroused and stiffly rubbing against its confining fabric. I uncoupled it and tossed it aside, but I kept on the last remaining parts of my school uniform – my white knee-high socks, and my flat-soled black shoes. I did this not just to save effort and time, but mostly because the shoes gripped very well on the carpet and would give me much better traction than my bare feet would – and I intended to be able to apply ever ounce of driving strength that I could!
I took a grip of Diane’s gorgeous ripe ass, kneading her butt-cheeks before sliding my hands down to their soft pale under-flesh. The mature woman quivered in expectancy as I eased her into an even more open stance, so that the broad curving base of her cunt was fully visible from my position kneeling behind her, with all of its magical pink fleshy folds and curls. I shifted the angle of my hips to bring the long shaft of the dildo up under her pussy, until its first two inches were pressing against the start of her slit, and slowly and tantalisingly abrading against it.
‘Oh! Angie ... please! ... aaahh, please, yes ... please ...’ Diane whimpered, but this time it was clear that she wanted it – not just from her words, but from every line of her straining body, as she arched her back and thrust her butt backwards and upwards, spreading her thighs to make herself as open as possible. I decided to tease her a little, to heighten both our anticipation to fever pitch. First, I rubbed the plastic pole harder and faster along the groove of her vagina, but without entering her in any way, and then I stopped and let it fall away from contact with her soft sticky pudenda. Diane gasped in avid arousal and then groaned in frustration as the nerve-tingling stimulus ceased.
I leaned forwards and hissed softly in her ear, my breath caressing her cheek: ‘What d’ya want, huh? Tell me what you want, you fucking bitch, and maybe you’ll get it! Beg for it, c’mon you dirty lesbo cunt – beg me for it, you filthy lezzie pussy-slut, fuckin’ beg me to do you!’
‘Oh, sweet heaven! Aaaooohh, Angie ... aah! Oh, Jesus, you’re so hot – you’re as hot as your fuckin’ Mom – so do me, yeah, like she does, fucking have me! You know what I want – please, please, do me, oh please! Yes, do me, hard, I want it hard, fuck me so hard, make me fucking scream! Angie, please, don’t make me wait any more ... oh, Lord above, fuck me, Angie, fuck me hard! ... for God’s sake, please fuck me, NOW – please, I’m begging you – FUCK MY SLUTTY CUNT RIGHT NOW!!!
Diane had just about broken down completely, and all of her being was now concentrated in her pussy – indeed, it was her cunt-lips that were really speaking, wrenching from her mouth the desperate plea to be violently fucked by her new teenage nemesis.
I relished my sexual power over the mewling mature woman, glorying in the admission that I was as hot and hard a dyke domme as my sexy mother. I decided to change the angle of my attack – this time, the plastic spear of the dildo was pointing straight at Diane’s hole, which parted with lubricated ease when I applied a slow and gentle pressure. The dildo slid slowly into her – slowly not because of meeting any resistance, but because I had determined this time to fuck her in a quite different way from my first wild assault. I took a very measured pace, and as I had thought and hoped, this served to wind her up just as much as the battering-ram tactics that I had used earlier.
Diane began to shiver and shake, and her hands dug into the carpet like claws. Her eyes were closed, but her mouth hung open, with a trail of saliva dribbling from her lower lip. Her pleading took on a frantic edge:
‘Angie, oh help me! Angie, please, darling – not so slow, please not so slow – do me hard, I’m begging you! Harder! aaahh, yes – oh yes! Harder, for God’s sake, slam me – fuckin’ shaft me! Faster, please, for pity’s sake – please – Angie, please, you gotta fuck me harder, please fuck me harder!’
I began to increase the pace, not so much because of her pleas, but because I was getting really turned on myself. Still, I managed proudly to keep some self-control, and only slowly built up the speed and depth of my thrusts. Then I shifted up a couple of gears, and began to really hammer into her gully from behind. With a long moan, Diane thrust her ass even further out towards me, and I rewarded her silent supplication by shifting my stance a little upwards, which give me an even better angle of thrust.
Now I changed the mood – with frightening suddenness, I began to slam the dildo into and of my mother’s lesbian lover like a battering ram, hammering it home for all that I was worth, slapping the face-plate of the dildo against her rubbery slick-coated labia, and then pulling out again – only to repeat the process with lightning speed, over and over, until we were both covered in sweat from our labours. I grabbed a handful of her hair in my left hand and hauled back on it, making her give a scream of sexual agony as her head was yanked upwards. Meanwhile, my right hand reached under her now handily exposed chest, grasped her right breast, and mauled her nipple.
I rode that sexy mature brunette as hard as I could, putting all of my youthful strength and fierceness into it, powered by the raging fire of my lust to sexually dominate and ravish another female. It was in that moment that I truly entered into my inheritance – as a totally merciless dominant dyke fucker of soft submissive helpless cunts.
Diane’s noises had gone beyond being intelligible words, as I pounded her pussy with the strap-on and drilled it into her depths with savage force. Her head was slumped down onto the carpet, with her eyes screwed tightly closed but her mouth hanging wide open, and a pool of saliva collecting under her cheek. This posture shifted her butt further upwards, and I took full advantage of it. Placing both hands at her hips to steady myself, I rose onto my haunches above her, in a position of such awesome dominance over her prone body that just the sight nearly made me come myself. After the barest pause, I resumed fucking her cunt from the new angle, ravaging her gaping and dribbling hole even harder than before.
It was more by instinct than anything else that I added the coup de grace. I shifted my left hand from her waist to grasp the back of her neck, emphasising her utter submission by grinding her face into the carpet. This also braced me with sufficient balance to remove my right hand from her hips as well, and I used this to deliver a series of stinging slaps to her upthrust butt – each time that I yanked the dildo backwards, it afforded me the opportunity to deliver a sharp smack before I drove it back in again, so the poor mature submissive alternated almost with pause between the stimuli of the pile-driving penetration of her soft inner parts and the sting of pain from her abused ass.
I was surprised at how long she lasted – but I have since discovered that Diane has an amazing capacity to soak up sapphic sexual dominance. It is one of the reasons (though not the only one) why my mother kept her as a lover; apparently, Diane told me later, my Mom already had a ferocious reputation for going through the panties of all of the pretty interns (something Diane knew, which was why she was already trembling with arousal after Mom asked her to work late), but she usually soon got bored with them and discarded them for another – that is, until she found her perfect submissive partner in Diane.
Even so, not even the most experienced and capable of lesbian subs can hold out for ever, even though they long for their exquisite torture never to end. With a wild scream that turned into racking sobs and gasps, Diane flung her arms wide, her fingernails gouging into the carpet, and then her pelvis bucked upwards so violently that I was nearly dislodged, as a spray of pussy-cum squirted from her vagina in the moment of her thunderous orgasm.
It was incredibly arousing, and suddenly I could not wait for my own release. My hands tore frantically at the buckles of the strap-on’s harness, and in seconds I had pulled it out of Diane – making her jerk and cry out in climactic aftershock – and discarded it. The older woman was now slumped full length on the floor, face down, but I seized her by the shoulder and hip and rolled her onto her back. As she gazed up at me dazedly, I straddled her chest, took her chin in my grip, and almost shouted at her:
‘Eat me out, you filthy fucking cunt! Finish me! You’re my bitch now, as much as you’re Mom’s, so you better fuckin’ make me come, and make it good! Eat my slit, bitch, NOW!’
Diane had no opportunity to reply, for with the last word I lurched forwards and dropped my cunt right onto her face, grinding my pussy against her mouth. I need not have worried – this well-used sub knew the importance of pleasing her mistress, and getting her off when she demanded it! At once I felt Diane’s surprisingly large and agile tongue (another of the reasons Mom kept her, I think) squirrel into my slit, thrusting inwards and then driving for my clit like a heat-seeking missile. I was so close to coming that it only took a few rasps of Diane’s firm tongue to trigger my explosion. I shrieked as I climaxed, with my back arched and my head flung backwards, and I drenched Diane’s mouth and cheeks with my pussy juice, which she avidly lapped up.
With a satisfied moan, I slumped sideways off the prone woman to lie on my back on the carpet next to her. For a while, I remained there, letting the sweat cool on my body and my breathing and heartbeat return to something approaching normal, and luxuriating in the feeling of release and lassitude that followed in the wake of my tremendous orgasm. However, eventually I roused myself and struggled to an upright position, sitting on the floor and with my back leaning against the sofa. Now that my passionate lust had been slaked, I was spent and rather shell-shocked by what had just happened. Even so, I knew that I could not have prevented it, any more than a rock dislodged from the top of a mountain can stop the resulting avalanche. Diane moved to sit companionably next to me, her right shoulder and arm resting warmly against my left side.
‘Wow!’ I said, exhaling with exhausted satisfaction; ‘that was totally amazing – absolutely fucking incredible!’
‘Absolutely incredible fucking, you mean’, murmured Diane, as her sweat-sheened and pussy-juice-streaked face broke into a shattered smile. ‘God, yes! – that took ten years off me’, she continued, ‘it took me right back to the first times with Sandra, when she was so fierce and just about insatiable! Not that it isn’t hot between us now, I mean’, she hastened to add; ‘she gives me a real workout, does your Mom, believe me! – but I guess after a decade or more together, well, things become a little more predictable, shall we say. So, yes, I’ve not been had like that – not cum like that – in a long time!’
I looked at my Mom’s so-sexy and so-submissive lesbian lover out of the corner of my eye.
‘Mom and Carrie-Anne must never, ever, ever know about this’, I solemnly affirmed, to which Diane hastily agreed. ‘But …’ I added, and then left it trailing there, the invitation unstated but obvious.
‘Yeah ...’ breathed Diane, both of us using a single word to imply unspoken volumes. Without her even realising it, her right hand had slipped up her thigh to rest gently against her mound, whilst her legs automatically had eased further apart. I was aware of this subtle but intensely erotic movement in my peripheral vision, and it crystallised my thoughts. Diane was just too sexy with her big breasts, wide hips and capacious cunt, and most of all with her thrilling combination of mature experience and submissive acceptance. The sense of power that I had gained from dom-fucking an older woman had been absolutely amazing, and it had super-charged all of my erogenous zones. There was just no way that this could be a one-off, or that I was going to forego tasting this heady wine again. It would be a purely physical relationship, as both Diane and I were emotionally committed elsewhere – Carrie-Anne was and would be my love as well as my lover, and Diane was happily and unshakeably bonded with my Mom – but because of that, we could be utterly uninhibited with each other, and enjoy just having sex in its simple purity and glory.
I turned slightly towards Diane (as would be natural between us, I was the initiator once again), and placed my hand between her legs, covering the hand that she had resting against her cunt, and grinding it down against her.
‘You know that this ain’t finished, you slut, don’t you?’ I demanded in my best apprentice-dominatrix style. ‘I’ll want you again – and you’ll want me again, won’t you? Be honest, admit it!’
She didn’t even try to pretend otherwise, arching her hips wide apart so that I could gouge her own hand hard into her puffy labia and the slick groove of her gash.
‘Aaaahh, Angie! ... yes, I know ... ooh-ahhh, yes ... yes, I do, oh babe, yes – I do too!’
I was getting warmed up again, starting to think that I’d like to fuck her some more, but then my eye caught the clock on the wall. Shit! – in less than an hour Mom would be getting home from work, and she would be worried if I wasn’t there without any explanation – and explanations were something that I wanted to steer very well clear from. I gave Diane a last firm rub of her slit and pulled on both her nipples, and then said reluctantly that I had better be on my way. Diane gave me an amused look, and said that I certainly couldn’t turn up at home like this – that the smell of cunt-cum was all over me!
She stood up and extended a hand down to me, helping me to my feet. Then she ushered me into her shower room, which – surprise, surprise – seemed to have been designed primarily with the aim of having room enough for two (or even more!) at the same time. She dropped her denim mini-skirt onto the bathroom floor, and I discarded my shoes and knee-high socks beside it. For the first time both of us were totally naked, and we took a moment to admire each others’ curves, before stepping into the shower cubicle and sliding closed its glass door. Diane turned on the gushing hot water and I stood under it, soaking in the warmth and luxuriating in its stinging massage of my head, shoulders, back and breasts.
Diane opened a bottle of shower gel and poured some into her cupped right hand, which she then proceeded to massage all over me, naturally paying particular attention to my breasts and the join of my legs. When I was lathered all over, I took the bottle from her and returned the favour – but when it came to soaping her pussy, I just couldn’t resist sliding two fingers right up inside her, and then, as she leaned her shoulder-blades against the tiled wall, splaying her hands out wide to maintain her balance, with the hot water cascading off the stiff points of her prominent breasts, I quickly finger-fucked her to one last bone-shaking cum.
After this we rinsed each other off, and then when we stepped out of the shower, Diane knelt in homage in front of me as she gently towelled me dry. At last, satisfied with the thoroughness of her service, she cast aside the damp towel and brought her lips to my cunt, placing a gently reverent kiss right on the middle of my slit. Then with a fond slap on my rump, she told me to get dressed, and run along. I was almost skipping along the pavement as I left her building ten minutes later, with the wiped and dried strap-on harness and its dildo wrapped up in some plastic bags and nestling securely at the bottom of my backpack.
And so our secret sapphic liaison began, purely by the chance of a package being delayed in the post. Two weeks after this first thunderclap of sexual awakening, I went to her apartment on a Saturday afternoon when Mom had to go out of town on business, and we had a wild fuckathon for nearly three hours – in fact, I had to go home and lie down for a while to rest, before I was due to meet up with Carrie-Anne at seven o’clock. My skills at love-making with my sweet girlfriend advanced by leaps and bounds, to her amazement and delight, and soon I introduced her to the massive strap-on (telling her that I had managed to order it over the internet and hide the parcel from Mom when it arrived). Carrie-Anne was apprehensive and dismayed by its size when she first saw it, but once I had buckled it around my hips she became thoroughly aroused, and – as I had been sure – her cunt opened up and her vagina accommodated its massive length and thickness, though with many a gasping shudder and groan.
Since that second time, during the last three months I have had a session with Diane about once every three weeks – an infrequency which has made it easier to find times when our meeting can be kept quite secret, and which has heightened our sense of expectation, so that it is a special treat and not something to be taken for granted. In our last marathon fuck, I took Diane so hard and long with a strap-on in the doggy position, finally making her cum with explosive force three times in four minutes, that after the final climax she collapsed under me like a puppet whose strings had been slashed through. She flopped down onto her stomach, sprawling on the carpet with her breasts squashed under her and her arms outflung. I was in full flow, and looking down at her supine mature body, I suddenly knew what to do. I slid the heavy dildo out of her pussy, adjusted my position slightly, placed the tip of it in the middle of her puckered ass-hole, and then – bef
