Jenny's Journey Ch. 01

I remember everything about that day.

I was a pretty typical teenage girl — angry, confused, upset about the changes that my body was going through. School was brutal. Everything sucked. I was sure I didn't fit in. The other kids either made fun of me or were of no help. My parents were sympathetic but they couldn't help much. At least I didn't think they could. They worried about me, I was sure, but I was just as sure they had no idea what I was really going through. I was positive they just didn't understand.

We had moved across the country three months prior for my dad's new job. He was a wonderful dad and his efforts had always allowed us to live in relative comfort. We were far from wealthy but thanks to him we were more than comfortable. We lacked for nothing, at least not in the necessities of life. But my dad, wonderful as he was, and my mom, wonderful as she was too, couldn't help me with my school situation. I had left all my friends behind and started midyear as the awkward, geeky new kid at a private school where I knew no one, and no one knew me. And because of some scheduling problem the move had cost me a year which made me older than the other kids. Here I was, eighteen and with one more year to go in an evil private school. I hated everything and it felt like everything hated me back.

Something had to give, and finally, it did.

I unlocked the side door and walked in from the driveway to the laundry room. It was early afternoon and I had just gotten home from another miserable day at school. The school bus had smelled like farts and body odor, neither attractive on their own but much worse together. I shut the door behind me and leaned against it, wishing it could keep the whole world out. I looked around the laundry room for something to put on, wishing I could shimmy out of my hated school uniform right there. But there was nothing. My mother always liked to keep the laundry room spotless. I sighed and went into the house.

My school uniform was a starched button-up white shirt and a little baby-sized men's tie, which I supposed had seemed like a good idea to someone. Even worse was the plaid skirt, with white knee socks and black patent leather shoes. I suppose it was meant to help us all ignore our differences and think that we were the same, but, in fact, all it did was point out our differences that much more. The stupid, tailored, fitted, taut and white shirt was starting to be too small for my growing breasts and revealed far more than I was comfortable with. Likewise, the skirt ended well above my knees and seemed to want to admit every passing draft. Worse, my maturing ass, although by no means huge, had rounded out quite a bit, forcing me to be careful about bending over or even leaning forward in school, lest I give everyone a free shot of my panties. My parents, ever the diplomats, had explained that there was only a month left of school and I would have to deal with the uniforms as they were for the time being.

Throwing my book bag on the couch I went into the kitchen to talk to my mother. She was casually dressed, as I wished I was. She loved the comfort that being a stay-at-home mom gave her. "Never say 'just a stay-at home mom'", she was fond of repeating. "I kick ass at being a homemaker." And that was true.

She was barefoot, wearing black flare-leg yoga pants and an oversize man's T-shirt as she cooked something on the stove. She often did yoga in the house during the day to stay in shape, and occasionally went to a yoga studio downtown if she felt like she needed an exceptional workout. She was still a few inches taller than I was, tan and lean from swimming in our pool. She was proud of her body, and rightly so. Her dark shoulder length hair was pulled into a ponytail while she cooked. From behind, or pretty much any angle, she could've been my sister. Sometimes I found that annoying, but not today. Today I wanted a shoulder to cry on, and sister-mom was perfect.

Dad, bless his hard-working heart, wouldn't be home for another four hours which left her and me alone in the house. My mom was my favorite person in the whole world, and while she was not overly permissive, I knew she would tolerate a good deal of bitching and complaining from me. So I decided to spill my guts.

"Hi honey," she said as I entered, greeting me with a smile. Her smiles were never forced, not towards me at least. She always appeared genuinely happy to see me. "How was your day?"

"I hate my life," I said, walking up to her, leaning forward and lightly head-butting her arm like a small mopey child. "Everyone hates me and I don't understand anything that's going on and I'm so frustrated."

There must have been a special note in my voice that day because not a second later she turned off the pot she was stirring, covered it, and faced me. All of a sudden I found myself engulfed in a big hug.

"You sound like you really need a hug today," she said and I nodded, rubbing my head against her chest. I loved her hugs. "It's tough being so young and being thrown into adulthood, isn't it? So many things going on, so many changes, inside and outside." We stood like that for a moment, face-to-face in the kitchen, me with my face buried in her shoulder as she rubbed my back, rocking me slightly. "Tell me what's bothering you, sweetheart."

"I just feel like I'm going crazy," I said, feeling miserable. "I'm so frustrated. I hate everything and nothing's any fun anymore and everyone hates me and I feel ugly. I'm just angry all the time and I'm so tense. I feel like I could just scream, and you're the only one I can talk to."

She put one hand under my chin and pulled me eye-level to her. She stared me right in the eyes, nose to nose, with a look that I didn't quite understand at the time. Then, again for reasons I didn't understand, she checked the clock before wrapping an arm around me, her movement slow and tender.

"I know a little bit about teenage frustration," she said. "Mommy can help. I know exactly why you're frustrated."

"Because I'm crazy?" I asked and returned her slight smile with one of my own.

"No, sweetheart, it's because you're not crazy. You're perfectly normal," she said, chuckling. "You have no idea how normal you are." Then she kissed me, not on the forehead, but on the lips. Just a little peck, nothing out of place for a tender moment between girls — right? "Perfectly, perfectly normal. I know exactly what's wrong."

She took me by the hand and pulled me toward the rest of the house, out of the kitchen. "Come with me," she said. "We're going to work out your frustration."

"Oh, Mom, not yoga," I said. "I don't think yoga will help."

She just smiled, amused, mysterious. "Not yoga," she said. Walking up next to her she slipped an arm around me as I leaned my head on her shoulder.

Instead of going toward the front room where she had her big-screen TV and yoga mats she led me down the hall toward our bedrooms. I was a bit puzzled at that. My puzzlement only grew when we got to the end of the hall and instead of turning left into my room we turned right, stepping right into her and dad's bedroom. Now I was truly confused.

She turned to face me, smiling. "Take off your shoes, dear," she said and I didn't even have to think twice. I slipped off the black patent leather pumps I hated so much, very happy to be rid of them. "Here, let's get rid of this silly thing too," she added, pulling apart the Windsor knot in my tie with a deft hand and sliding it out from around my neck. That tingled for some reason — the sensation of my mother pulling on my tie.

"I hate these clothes," I said. "Can I take the blouse off as well?"

She just smiled, the same smile I was so used to seeing from my mother. "Yes, let's get rid of that too," she said. "It must be terribly restrictive. I know it's a little tight."

We worked on the buttons together, me from the top and her from the bottom. She slipped a deft hand down my skirt, only for a brief second, to pull the bottom button up. I still didn't think anything of it, although I was intrigued and puzzled by what her plan was. I had no idea what she meant when she said she was going to relieve my frustration. Were we going to relax and just talk to each other? We had done it a few times in the past.

The last button came undone and it was with relief that I wiggled out of the blouse, letting it fall to the floor where it joined the tie and the shoes. She put her hands on my bare shoulders, my top half now naked except for my sports bra.

"Comfy, sweetie?" she asked and I nodded. Then she climbed onto the bed and patted the spot next to her. "Okay, good. I'm so glad. Now, come and lie down on the bed, sweetie."

I did what she told me, laying down on the side next to her, which just so happened to be her usual side. She was still in her T-shirt and yoga pants, resting next to me. Rolling over onto my side I faced her.

"Are we taking a nap?" I asked. "Or is this going to be yoga after all?"

Her smile just grew a little. "Just lay back, honey."

I obeyed despite my puzzlement, turning on my back. She snuggled up next to me, surprisingly close. I was suddenly aware that her large breasts, unrestrained under the T-shirt, were touching my naked shoulder. In addition, her very warm thigh was touching mine.

She leaned in even closer and whispered in my ear, "Do you trust me, sweetie?"

I loved my mom. She was my favorite person in the whole world, my best friend really. I had told her things that I would never ever tell another human being. She had seen me in situations that I was embarrassed even to be in, let alone be seen in. I didn't even hesitate.

"I love you, mom," I said. "Of course I trust you."

"Okay, sweetie," she said. "Just relax and mommy will make it all better." Without warning she — my mother — put her hand on my bare inner thigh, sliding it up under my uniform skirt.

I gasped at the unexpected touch.

"Uhhhhhh," I let out, speechless.

My skirt rode up as her hand traveled further up toward my crotch, all the way until her fingers touched the edge of my pink cotton panties. A jolt surged through my body when her fingers fluttered across them to come to rest right on top of my mound, her middle finger gently pressing the soft area between my legs. My hips gave an involuntary jerk.

"Uhhh, mom..." I tried again.

"Mmmmm," she murmured into my ear, her large breasts pressing against my shoulder.

She moved her hand up and down, applying gentle pressure. My hips twitched again, thrusting upward involuntarily, presenting themselves for something I didn't understand yet. I felt a sensation between my legs, something beyond simple stimulation. It was different than me touching myself, different even than leaning against the washing machine for a cheap, juvenile thrill. Something was happening to me. I was startled by it, maybe shocked by it, but it wasn't unpleasant. In fact, I felt my body responding even as I struggled to process what was going on.

"Uhhhhh," I let out again, halfway between a moan and a gasp.

I was suddenly very conscious of every detail of the situation. Laying on my parent's bed, paralyzed by something between shock and ecstasy. My breasts strained against my bra which had seemed so grown up six months ago, but now seemed flimsy and almost less than nothing, like I might be less naked without it. My skirt and panties offered so little coverage, the former now flopped up over my stomach as my mother's strong fingers kneaded my vulva.

Her warm breath in my ear sent tingles down my back as she whispered, "It's okay, sweetie, just relax."

Her breast was pressed against mine, almost nipple to nipple. The feel of her belly and her thighs against my side. The muscles in her forearm, against my abdomen, contracting and moving as her fingers moved, again and again, against my crotch. So many sensations, threatening to overwhelm me. My knees moved without me realizing, like they had a will of their own, spreading themselves apart as my mother massaged me in my special place.

"Ahh," I gasped. "Mommy..."

"I want you to be happy, baby," she whispered in my ear, drawing me even closer. "I don't want to see you so miserable and frustrated." Her entire body, from her knees to the top of her head, pressed against the side of mine, warm, strong and comforting. "I want to help you be happy," she continued, her breath warm against the side of my face.

Her hand on my crotch had settled into a rhythm, massaging my labia with firm pressure, working through my pink cotton panties. I had masturbated myself, of course, but I had never felt anything like this. The sensation of being explored and stimulated by another hand — my mother's hand — was unlike anything I had felt before in my life. And she knew what she was doing. Not too hard, not too soft, not too rough, just rough enough. I moaned, involuntarily — I couldn't have stopped the sound even if I had wanted to.

I felt my wetness seeping through my panties, soaking them in fact. I was too far gone to care.

"Mmmmm," she murmured, running her fingers over the wetness. "I love you, baby."

She planted a kiss on the side of my head, a kiss with perceptible tongue. I shivered with unexpected arousal. Whatever shock I had felt from my mother's first caress was quickly melting away, replaced by something new, something primal. My body was way ahead of my consciousness. I felt my hips thrusting on their own and I was experiencing strange contractions in muscles I didn't even know I had. My mother's hand slid northward, across my panties and toward my navel. Her fingers passed the little bow on the elastic band at the top and I felt them linger on the bare skin of my belly. A tense second passed, a moment filled with both promise and need. Then, without warning, her hand plunged inside my panties.

Oh God, I thought, my mom is going to touch my OOOOOHHHHH GODDDD...

Her entire hand slid in between my legs, three of her fingers sinking into the cleft between my labia which now felt swollen and throbbing with excitement. Her well-manicured middle finger slid across my clitoris, jolting me like an electric shock.

"Ahhh!" I cried out. All the muscles in my crotch and my belly clenched at once in a spasm of pleasure. "Uhnnn," I moaned.

I realized I was panting like a dog and had lost all control of what my body was doing. I was a passenger on my own pleasure journey, unable to control anything, merely along for the ride. My crotch was responding to signals I didn't understand, didn't know what they meant. My mother was initiating me into pleasures I had never even imagined. My hips bucked forward again and again as her finger rode across my clitoris. I moaned and cried, trembling, shaking, panting. Her middle finger curled slightly as she continued to stimulate my clitoris, rubbing the opening to my never-penetrated vagina. Two more fingers joined in, one on each side, massaging the softness and wetness of my inner lips. I moaned, over and over as I writhed and ground my crotch against her hand. My whole world, school, friends, enemies, frustration, everything melted away until it was just me and my mother writhing on the bed in ecstatic bliss. Without warning my mother, my partner, her hot breath panting against the side of my head, took the tip of my left ear between her teeth, nipping gently, and massaged the lobe with her tongue.

That did it.

My orgasm was blinding. My back arched, my pelvis thrusting straight up toward the ceiling. I cried out but no words came, just sounds. My clitoris became a short-circuit of pleasure, a blissful knob of nervous overload. My eyes rolled back in my head and everything spun. My whole body felt like it was on fire. Time blurred and I had no idea how long it lasted. Eventually I sank back down on the bed, exhausted and spent. My vision blurred and for a moment I lost consciousness, sinking into a beautiful blackness in the arms of my mother, feeling her breasts against mine, hearing her breathing in my ear. For the first time in years, maybe my whole life, I was unbelievably, perfectly, totally happy.

I didn't know how long I was out. Perhaps it was just a few seconds. When I awoke it was in a haze, mom still next to me, her hand still resting in my panties, the two of us nose to nose.

"Ohhhh," I breathed. "Oh God. Mommy, what did you do? I never thought anything could be like that."

She gave me a smile, big, perfect. My mother's smile. "I love you. I knew what you were going through, and I knew exactly what you needed." She nuzzled me on the side of my neck. "You are so beautiful, so wonderful, and you deserve to be so happy. I'm so glad I could help."

Her hand began to slide upward, out of my cleft as she prepared to disengage from the clinch that we found ourselves in. But before she could get very far I put my hand over hers, keeping it firmly planted in my crotch.

"Wait," I said. She looked at me with a knowing half-smile. "Mom - could you... Could you kiss me?"

I felt her warm body relax into mine again as she leaned in over me. She bent her left leg, sliding her thigh across mine, and let her knee rest between my legs. Her large breasts, naked under the T-shirt, pressed fully against mine, my own still straining in the ridiculous sports bra. I suddenly ached to reach up under her shirt, to explore her, and to have her do the same to me. To be totally naked with my own mother, to know her, every inch of her, to taste every part of her body.

She kissed me then, on the lips, open mouthed, and I met her tongue with mine. We stayed locked like that for several seconds. I moaned and I felt her fingers twitch against my vulva. Then she stopped, lifting her head and smiling at me.

"Oh, sweetie," she said. "I love you so much."

"Oh, God, I love you too, Mom," I said and I meant every word of it, both in the way I always had, and in an entirely new way I had never known existed or could exist.

"Do you feel better now, sweetheart?" she inquired as she extracted her hand from my panties and rolled off of me. Settling in next to me she gave me another one of her incredible smiles, her breasts still touching my arm.

"Ahhhhhhh," I let out in a content sigh. "A million times better. I - oh, God, I feel like a different person."

"Well," she said, "I always told you I would be here for you, and your happiness was the most important thing to me, and I meant it." She held my hand. "I'll do whatever it takes to make you happy."

I sighed once more. "You did," I said. "I love you, mom."

"I love you too, sweetie," she said, smiling. Then she glanced at the clock. "Of course, right now we need to clean up and get dinner ready, because your father will be home in an hour." I slid off the bed and stood up.

I hadn't realized it, but right under where I had been laying was a wet spot, quite visible. The back of my plaid skirt was soaked through and my pink cotton panties were a mess, squishy with wetness. I put a hand between my legs to check.

"Ewwww," I said, bringing my hand up to my nose. "Gross."

Mom laughed. "We better get you out of those wet clothes - ooh, and I need to change too." I looked at her as she touched herself between her legs, not at all embarrassed about it. "Yep, time for a change." I must have been staring because she laughed. "Two words, darling: dark clothing." She patted her black yoga pants. "What nobody sees, nobody knows."

Turning her attention to the bed she said, "Oh, shit - and we need to change these sheets." She laughed, and so did I. Before we could get that far though she hugged me, and kissed me, and touched me. And I her, our groping threatening to turn into something more. But we knew we had to stop. There just wasn't enough time. After the sheets went into the washer we left to make dinner. This time I didn't bother leaning against it to feel that cheap thrill. I knew what was going on now. I knew I was going to be okay.