Jenny's Journey Ch. 02

Mom and I were folding laundry after school in the laundry room of the house. There was a washer and dryer on one side of the room, and a long table on the other side, and late afternoon sun streamed in through the windows that faced out on the backyard. Mom was wearing her usual yoga pants, and a loose crop top. Freshly home from school, I had ditched the hated white blouse and required bra, as well as the skirt. I was wearing a loose T-shirt and panties. My panties were still cotton — blue today — and they were already a little damp.

Since that day, where I had learned my own secrets at the hands of my own mother, we had been good girls. Indeed, it was hard to imagine, watching us, that any such thing had ever taken place. But that was the way we wanted it. We had a secret, and some secrets aren't meant to be shared. Ever.

Today, however, there was tension in the air. It had been building for a couple of days. Both my mother and I were tuned to some separate frequency that only we could hear. That morning, there had been glances, and pauses, and things unsaid, between the two of us. Passing in back of me at the breakfast table, mom had casually brushed her hand across the back of my neck. An unexpected thrill had sent tingles through my body. When I had left for the bus, the hug I gave mom was a little more intimate than usual — my hands not at the usual socially approved family hugging positions, closer in fact to her lush bottom. Dad hadn't seen, he was in his home office, and we could both hear him on the phone already, so we both knew it was safe. Mom had given my hand a little spank — letting me know that I was getting close to the edge — but she was smiling when she did it.

Now I was home from school and we were both playing it cool, letting the tension build, folding the laundry in the afternoon sun and glancing at each other's bodies. My body, still developing, with budding breasts and peach fuzz downstairs. And my mother's body, lush, more developed, no longer tight everywhere, as it had been years ago, but still fine enough that she drew looks. When we went out shopping, I had seen many men, and some women, sneaking a glance.

At last the laundry was folded. When the last of the towels were put away in the hall, I closed the cabinet door for my mom. As she turned to head back toward the kitchen, I caught her by the wrist. She turned back to me. "Hey," I said.

She smiled at me, that beautiful smile I was defenseless against. "Tell me everything that's on your mind," she said to me, stepping toward me so that under our loose T—shirts, our breasts touched.

I smiled back at her. She put an arm around me, resting her hand at the base of my back, just where my buttocks began. She leaned in and kissed me, a warm, soft, full kiss that tasted like tea with mint in it. I tilted my head back and closed my eyes, wrapping my other arm around her and resting it on her right bottom cheek. My mother massaged my tongue with hers, as I melted against her and felt the familiar tingle in my crotch.

"Mmmm," I murmured into her mouth. I felt weak with desire.

"I wanted to see what you'd say," mom said when she broke our kiss. "I wanted to let you start it."

"Ahh," I said. "You wanted to see how long I could hold out. Well, this is about it." I squeezed my mother's butt cheeks through the yoga pants. "You know, dad won't be home till late, right?"

Mom laughed. "Yes, today's his meeting day. Late night."

I couldn't resist anymore. I slid my hand up my mother's belly under her crop top, and ran my fingers over her breasts. There in the unlit hall, I started running my hands up and down her torso, under her crop top, fondling her nipples and squeezing her breasts as we kissed some more. "Oh, God, mom," I said between kisses, "tell me what to do."

"You're doing fine so far," she said, and I realized she was already breathing heavily. "Come with me." She took me by the hand and led me into her room, where the bed awaited.

Already mom's crop top was coming off — she peeled it off with one hand and dropped it on the floor. I gazed at her, a lovely woman, my mother, who I'd known all my life, and saw her with completely new eyes. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders in a wild, messy mane, and her eyes were locked on mine, her mouth slightly open as she panted with lust. Her breasts were large, with prominent areolas and nipples. I don't think I had ever seen her naked breasts as an adult; she had normally been pretty shy about being undressed around the house. I stared in excitement. I realized I was almost drooling. I swallowed.

Mom gripped the edge of my T—shirt and pulled it up over my head, removing it completely as I lifted my arms. Finally, there we were, she only in her yoga pants, me in a pair of blue hipster briefs with a large moist spot in the crotch, standing belly to belly, so close we could've licked each other's faces.

"Mmmmm," she murmured, putting her hands on my breasts and running them down the sides of my body, hooking her index fingers into the sides of my panties. "You are so beautiful..." She gently sat me down on the edge of the bed, and slid my panties off, leaving me completely naked in front of her. I was sitting on a secondary bedspread, easily washable, folded at the foot of the bed, which mom had put on the bed after the last time. Of course she had explained to my father that sometimes she got cold in the middle of the night. She couldn't very well explain to him that it was because she might want to have impulsive sex with her own daughter in the middle of the afternoon. That would have been awkward.

She started to lean me back onto the bed, but I stopped her. "Mom," I said, "take these off." I hooked a finger into the waistband of the yoga pants she was wearing, and started to slide them down.

Mom wordlessly kissed the top of my head as she reached back and slid the yoga pants down. She stepped on one side and stepped out of the other, leaving them in a crumpled mess on the floor. She stepped sideways slightly and planted her feet, leaving my face inches from my mother's naked pubic region. She smiled down at me, and I felt like she could read my thoughts.

This time I drooled. I took a deep breath, opening my mouth and my nose, and breathed in all the scents of my mother. There was soap, and perfume, and deodorant, and chlorine from the pool, and sweat, and lust, the scent of aroused human sexuality emanating from my mother's crotch. I stared, breathing heavily.

There was a small, neatly trimmed triangle of pubic hair about two inches above her mound, directly in the center of a larger pale triangle of bare skin, showing where her bathing suit rode on her hips. Below that, at the bottom point of the triangle, were the bare, most lips of my mother's vulva. I gaped in wonder at seeing my mother, like this, right here, right now.

I ran one hand up the inside of mom's tanned, firm right thigh, and touched her labia, so clean and hairless from what I guessed were expert bikini waxes. She shivered. "Ohhhhh," she said. "Baby." I pulled her forward, and she climbed onto the bed as I leaned back. We lay side—by—side, her tanned and mature body, contrasting with my pale and nubile form. Our breasts touched and rubbed against each other as we kissed, holding each other at first, but quickly our hands found new destinations.

My mother's hands found my buttocks, and rested there, squeezing and playing. I was fascinated with my mother's breasts, huge compared to mine. I touched them tracing the outlines of the areolas, playing with the nipples, tracing the contours, and finally I couldn't take it any longer. I took my mouth off of my mother's mouth, and transferred it to her left breast, licking the areola and then sucking on the nipple. I felt my mother's body quiver.

"Oh," she sighed. "Ohhhhhhhh..." My mother grasped my buttocks, firmly, and rolled over on her back. Now I was on top of her, both of us naked, me suckling on my mother's breast like a little child, but no little child ever felt the things I was feeling. I spread my legs apart, so that I had one knee on the bed on each side of my mother, her hands still on my buttocks, squeezing and rocking my hips back and forth slowly. I was quite aware that with my butt up in the air and my legs spread like this, my pussy, my anus, everything, was on display for the world, my innermost parts presented for everyone to see. I didn't care. I was aroused by it. I was on fire. I wanted to show everything, give everything, to my mother.

I cupped one of her breasts in each of my hands, although my hands were woefully inadequate to the task, and slid my tongue across her breast up to her throat, kissing the hollow in the front of it and then licking it with my tongue. My mother tasted salty, and I loved it. "Mmmmm," I purred. She whimpered. We were made for each other. We already knew each other's spots — where to touch, where to suck, where to lick. I moved my tongue back down to her right breast, sucking on the nipple as I rolled the nipple of her left breast between my fingers. She whimpered again, and moved her hands from my buttocks up my sides to my breasts, squeezing my nipples in return. I had never really appreciated the sensitivity of my breasts, finding their increasing touchiness mostly an annoyance, but having my mother exploring them with her fingers, and then suddenly, with her tongue, changed my mind. When she sucked on one of my tiny, rock-hard nipples I felt every muscle in my pelvis convulse. "Oh God," I moaned.

My mother rolled me over onto my back, continuing to suck on my breast and massage my nipple with her tongue. I moaned again. Once more, control slipped away from me. Melting into incoherence, I became a slave to my body's passion, as my mother's hands and tongue roved over me. I was on my back now, my legs spread, my mother's pubes rubbing against mine, as she darted up for a quick kiss. I was defenseless against her. Whatever she wanted, I would give it to her, gladly. I moaned as she massaged my breasts, her tongue sliding down between them, toward my crotch. My legs opened wider of their own accord, stretching outward until I could feel the straining of the tendons attached to my pubic bone. It was almost pain, but it felt so good.

My mother's tongue rode over my belly button, causing me a brief spasm as my stomach muscles contracted with anticipation. She stopped to kiss it briefly, and then continued downward, toward my little peach fuzz patch. She stopped to lick my pubic mound, just short of her final destination, and covered with downy soft hairs — my emblem of womanhood. Her hands joined her tongue, on each side, feeling the tightness of my tendons and my young flesh, aching to give itself to her. I wanted to scream with anticipation. I wanted to die, to live, to orgasm over and over again with my mother's mouth on my crotch. Please, God, I thought, as reason slipped away from me, give me release!

While I whimpered and writhed, and she continued to lick the outer edges my labia, each of her thumbs in turn, traveled down to near my anus, and then back up over my lips, now sopping wet with my juice, and then they settled in on each side, spreading and massaging me, as my mother finally pressed her mouth to my clitoris.

Oh, honey. I moaned as my mother's tongue rode over my fleshy button, sliding up and down and roaming around my southern lips, kissing me and loving me in ways I could never have imagined. I went from moaning to whimpering, and my hands, which I had been running through my mother's long dark mane of hair, went limp as my whole world telescoped into what my mom was doing between my legs.

Time stopped. I had no sense if we'd been there a minute, an hour, or a day, I just knew I never wanted it to end. My orgasm, when it came, was a blissful blackout of pure pleasure, a surrender to the overloaded nerves that seemed in that moment to reach from my clitoris through my whole body.

I blinked in my eyes came back into focus as I saw my mother, climbing up to my face, straddling me on the bed. "Ahhh..." I said, weakly.

My mother lowered herself down on top of me, pubes—to—pubes, belly to belly, breasts to breasts. She put her hands on each side of my face, squeezing gently, and smiling. "Open," she said.

I opened my mouth, and my mother, who had just eaten my pussy to an amazing orgasm, kissed me with a deep French kiss. I twitched as I tasted her, and myself, mingled together in my mouth. She ground her lips against mine, swabbing the inside of my mouth with her tongue. Her lips were wet, along with her cheeks and her chin. Wet with me, with the fluids that she had called out of me with her tongue. My arms waved around helplessly, and my feet did a little dance, and then my arms settled onto my mother's back, and my tongue slid into her mouth to taste more of the results of her labors. I moaned, and so did she. We stayed like that for several minutes, touching, licking and grinding.

Finally my mother rolled off of me. "Oh," she said. "You are a gifted girl." She laid on her back, looking at the ceiling, legs spread, arms at her sides completely relaxed.

I took slight advantage of her by rolling over on my side, leaning against her, and sliding it hand down into her nude crotch. "You come up with the most amazing things to teach me," I said to her. "You should be a teacher." I massaged her gently, and felt the muscles in her belly tighten. "And you are so beautiful."

Rather than scoot down to the end of the bed, I seized a quicker way, and with one hand on my mom's shoulder and the other in her crotch, I spun on my right knee, and without giving myself a chance to think about it, I opened my mouth and planted my face right between her legs.

"Oh God, you dirty girl," my mother moaned. I felt her belly muscles tighten again under my breasts, as my tongue slid inside her. God, she was wet. I scooped up a tongue full of juice, and brought it into my mouth, and swallowed as my mother moaned again.

Her pussy was not like mine, not the tidy, unexplored pussy of a young girl. Her labia minora spread out against my lips like the fleshy blossom of a hot, wet, soft orchid. I ran my tongue to the right, out to the edge of one of her lips, and sucked on her lip, closing my mouth against the quivering flesh, and giving just the slightest of tugs. My mother was whimpering constantly now.

She picked up my right leg with her right hand, and brought my crotch right over her body to her face. She slid her left hand up my inner right thigh , and rested against my own pussy lips, massaging and exploring. Just as it occurred to me what she was doing, she found what she was looking for, and slid a long index finger slowly into my tender vagina. I gasped and raised my head reflexively.

"Don't stop!" She said, with unexpected force. She slapped my ass with her other hand, hard enough to hurt. I was startled, shocked actually both at the pain and at her forcefulness. I lowered my head and resumed my attentions, massaging the backs of her thighs with my hands as I massaged her clitoris with my tongue.

Now it was my turn to moan as mom's finger rotated and twisted inside me, touching things that had never been touched before, and her tongue and lips slid over my recently aching, but now eager, clitoris.

I ran my own tongue up and down my mother's private lips, sliding it into her as deeply as I could. Then I sucked on the sides again, using my lips to tug and twist them, but gently. All the while my mother's finger slid in and out, and in and out, of me. I placed my hands on her inner thighs and spread her legs even further apart, enjoying the feeling of her inner muscles working against my tongue inside her vagina. Mom made a high keening whimper as I slid my tongue up and rode over her clitoris, again and again. She gasped and moaned as she orgasmed, her lips, belly and vaginal muscles clenching and writhing underneath me. Every part of her was so alive, it was amazing. It drove me into another orgasm too, and I thrust my tongue inside my mother as far as I could, whimpering with pleasure at the shared glory that we were feeling.

Afterward we lay exhausted, me facedown in my mother's crotch, she with her index finger jammed into my vagina up to the knuckle, breathing heavily and saying nothing. I felt like we had passed some kind of barrier, something else I didn't understand, another taboo broken. We were off the edge of the map, in that blank space where old mapmakers used to write "here be dragons" when they didn't know what else to write.

My mother finally spoke, seemingly to herself rather than me. "I'm going to hell," she said in an oddly quiet tone. I don't think she expected me to hear.

"Well, you know what they say," I responded without thinking. "Heaven for climate, Hell for company. So we'll see each other there."

Her body twitched under me, and I heard her make an odd sound, like she was stifling a cough. Her finger slowly slid out of my vagina. "Mmmm," I purred again , as I felt the sensation.

"Let's get cleaned up and make dinner, sweetie," she said. "Your daddy will be home soon." She gave me a light one-fingered tap on the buttocks to signal me to move, and I rolled off of her.

I rose up on the bed, kneeling and naked, and took a moment to catch my breath and get my bearings. Suddenly and unexpectedly my mother hugged me from behind, her breasts pressing into my back. She leaned her head against the top of my shoulder as she cradled me in her arms. "Oh, baby," she said, her voice breaking oddly. "I love you. I love you so much. Please don't ever doubt that."

I clasped her hands with my own, and leaned my head against hers. "I could never doubt that, mom," I said. "And I'll always love you."

We cleaned up after ourselves, showered together to get the scent of sweaty, unbridled sex off of us, and dressed presentably. We were the picture of decorum, just putting dinner on the table when my father came home and walked into the kitchen.

We had a lovely dinner, with many smiles and pleasant talk. And it didn't occur to me until much later that the sound I had heard my mother making as I lay on top of her after our round of ravenous, almost violent sex, was her trying not to cry.