Smalltalking Ch. 02

I let my hand move up to her crotch and then back down again, slightly brushing it, not ignoring my vaginal instincts any more. And she wasn't moving away. She seemed to be so deep in thought that I wasn't sure that she even noticed my hand.

"And even if you don't want to be intimate with me, and I understand if you don't by the way, I still don't want us to go back to being just mother and daughter. I like how it is. How we can talk freely now."

"I mean, I thought we were pretty close before. We'd always joke and so on." she said after a while.

"Yeah. I guess. But all we ever talked about was school and work. About how you and dad didn't get along. You gotta admit, none of those three topics inspire extended discussion."

I felt her thighs clench and release, but then reluctantly she put her hand on mine and moved it away from her crotch.

"Then taking sex out of the equation for a second ... what would you like us to do more of?" she asked, looking at me.

"Mom, I don't want this to be a chore or a check-box for you to tick off!" I said, trying to explain to her what meant. "I just want us to have some shared interests. Clearly we have similar sexual preferences. But I don't know anything else about you because we've never taken the time to talk about it. Even though we've lived together my whole life. I think that's a bit fucked up."

"Language. But I guess I see what you mean. Maybe we can talk more about this when I come back home from work?" she asked. "I really need to get ready."

"Ok, but mom?"

"Yeah?"

"I want to leave you with something nice to think of at work, alright?"

"Sure..?" she said, her eyes getting suspicious.

Very slowly and carefully, maintaining eye-contact with her, I went down on my knees. She still didn't seem to know what I was doing. I moved to sit right in front of her. I put my hands on her knees. I parted her knees and as I did, realization dawned on her.

"Oh honey no ... not now!" she whispered in a conflicted tone of voice. "Let's not right now!"

"It's a present!" I whispered back. "A present for me."

As her knees parted, the perfumed smell of her vagina overwhelmed my senses. It was a powerful, warm scent that was partly her natural lubricant built from sexual excitement and partly her regular perfume that had become, to me, her trademark scent. I inhaled deeply as I moved my head in towards her vagina. My tongue reached out and licked along her labia, tasting her flesh and underneath it the surprising amount of liquid that had built up.

I let my nose flick over the top of her mound, right over where her clit was hidden.

Her mound was like a plump peach, it stood out as quite as quite a bulge. For a moment I let my face get buried in it before pulling back slightly to resume licking.

I let my tongue penetrate her and lick from the bottom up, putting pressure on the clitoris with every lick.

Having only tasted two vaginas in my life, well three if my little tea spoon experiment earlier today counted, I didn't really know the full range of tastes on these things, but I knew that what I had tasted so far wasn't bad. But it also wasn't amazing. The erotic feeling of eating a vagina was what really made the experience worth while. Knowing that I was bringing pleasure to someone else was a fantastic experience in and of itself. But tastes were those of vaginas, there's no getting around that fact.

I felt mom put her hands on top of my head, and though she gently gripped my hair, she didn't put any additional pressure. Playing along, I moved my head deeper in, adding more force, more pressure. Letting my tongue go as far in as it could, essentially using my tongue as a cock, moving it in and out, focusing on as much positive friction as possible, focusing on adding pressure to her clit.

"Oooh yes." I heard from above me, a moan of pleasure. "Can you move up and down a bit more?"

I was happy to comply, moving my face up and down, letting the tip of my nose rub lightly against her slit. Up and down, creating even more pleasurable friction, spreading the juices across my face. Though I slightly regretted taking a shower before doing this, I also felt like this was one hundred percent worth it.

My mom's thighs clenched, holding my head in place, keeping me there to make sure that I wouldn't pull out, not that I'd dream of it, and she hunched over, the tips of her breasts resting on the top of my head as she moaned under her breath, breathing heavily.

As her orgasm passed, her leg muscles trembled, clenching and releasing, before she completely relaxed and threw herself back on the bed.

"Oh my god yes." she whispered. "I don't know how to feel, I can't deal with this right now."

"But was it good, did you like it?" I asked. After all, my goal had been to give her something nice to think about.

"It was the best. But I don't know if I should like it."

"Well ... like it for now and we can talk more later, ok?"

"Fine. I really need to get dressed." she said anxiously, looking around the bed for her clothes. "Damn it, I'm all wet now down there."

I picked up a towel that was hanging in her wardrobe and, placing one hand on her shoulder, used my other hand to wipe her between the legs. Carefully, gently making sure to get as much of the human juices as possible.

"Well thanks sweetie." she said, raising one eyebrow.

"No problem." I responded, sitting down on a chair to wait for her to get dressed.

"I have a new group of interns coming in today. Going to have to show them the ropes of the hospital. You've no idea how much I hate interns." she shook her head, as she was fixing her hair back into a prim state.

"Why?" I asked, curious.

"It's just that they are so needy, you know? The problem is that in theory, the best way for them to learn is to let them work on their own, taking instructions but not direct micromanagement. But with the bureaucratic shitholes that all hospitals have become, I have no idea which of the students are actually trying to become professionals, and which ones started studying liberal arts and ended up somehow in a hospital. The bar used to be higher. So was the pay. Now they push anyone and anything into the job, in exchange for not raising any wages ever. They can get fucked for all I care."

"Language." I said, smiling.

"English." she replied. "Aren't you going to get ready for school?"

"I don't have to go until nine. Although Sveta is probably starting earlier than me."

I jumped as mom slapped her face with her hand so hard that I was sure it would leave a mark.

"Shit. Sveta. What is she going to think of me now!?"

"Relax. She thinks you're the bee's knees." I tried to calm her.

"I think you're great miss." we both turned to face the small voice from the doorway. "I just don't want to cause any problems. I ... heard noises from this room, so I came to investigate. I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine!" I said. "Come here." I beckoned her over to me. "Confirm that she's the bee's knees."

"She is." Sveta nodded, confirming.

"You're sweet Svetlana. Really. I wish you hadn't gotten caught up in this mess."

Sveta bit her lip but didn't say anything.

I looked at her questioningly but she remained silent as we both watch mom get dressed.

"Come on, spit it out!" I said finally, as two minutes of silence had passed, during which Sveta seemed to struggle with something she wanted to say but couldn't.

"It's just that I don't hate being caught up in this." she said finally, getting really red in the face for some reason. "I don't know what it's like for you two, but -..." she breathed in deeply, trying to arrange her thoughts properly. "-... last night was kind of a fantasy come through. Last night was something I might have dreamed about but never believed would happen. Yes, it wasn't quite like in a fantasy, but if we can do it again, I would want to be a part of it without a doubt."

Mom looked at her thoughtfully, but then shook her head. Not in a 'No way, José' kind of way, but more in an amused sort of way.

"I forget that you are just kids." she smiled. "I'll think about it. I realize that it might be too late to start thinking now, but better late than never."

And with a kiss on both our cheeks she left the room to make some coffee.

I cleared my throat, not being able to help looking a bit embarrassed.

"So you saw me and mom just now?" I asked sheepishly. "I don't want you to feel like you're intruding or that we're pushing you away, I swear."

"Well, I only saw the end." she replied, shyly. "I don't feel like you're pushing me away, not considering that you're letting me be part of this. I mean, how much closer can I get to you two?"

"So ..." I rubbed my tired eyes feeling like I was being given too much leeway with my own opinions. "So what it appears to be is that ... and this sounds fucking odd. But that you, me and mom are now in a relationship together. Is that ... did I get that right?"

"I don't know. I mean, do you want me to call her 'mom' as well?" Sveta laughed. "Or 'miss mom'?"

"Her name is Ana. Well, technically her full name is Anastasia but she hates being called that because of that cartoon movie."

"I liked Anastasia!" Sveta exclaimed. "What's wrong with that movie?"

"Well. It's kind of like ... you know when people keep comparing you to someone entirely different? Imagine if you looked just like Anna Kendrick? And every time you met someone new they would say 'Oh boy! You look just like Anna Kendrick!'. At first you might be flattered. But eventually you would start compiling a list of people to kill based on the frequency of their 'Anna Kendrick' comparisons."

"I guess I see why that might be annoying." Sveta nodded. "No one's ever compared me to anyone." she added, musingly.

"Yeah, that's because you're one of a kind, beautiful." I said, smooth as a bar of soap on a slip and slide.

She just laughed and hugged me.

As we entered the kitchen, we walked in on mom chugging her cup of coffee.

A sudden realization made me look around the kitchen. I looked for the cup of coffee I'd been drinking. It had been left half-drunk on the kitchen table. I searched for the spoon. I searched for the spoon real hard. But the only spoon I could find was the one in mom's coffee.

I went instantly red and wanted to hide. Shit. I should have thrown it in the dish washer. Or put a sticky note on it. Mind you, any note I'd have put on it would have been sticky.

"Alright, bye you two. Don't forget school. Have a good day. We'll talk later." she said the last part just as she closed the door behind her.

I picked up the spoon from her empty cup of coffee. I scrutinized it. I sniffed it. I couldn't tell if it was the same spoon. Shakily I put the spoon into the dish washer and turned to face Sveta.

"I really don't want to go to school today." I whined. "I mean – who really needs education in this day and age, with Google and YouTube out there?"

"You're telling me you'll get better at graphical design through Google?" Sveta asked.

"Or something. Why isn't 'homeless' a viable career choice?"

"Because usually being homeless isn't a choice." Sveta shrugged, sipping on her own, fresh cup of coffee. "How would you make a career out of it anyway? Panhandling?"

"I don't know. I guess it's not as viable as I thought. I still would rather stay here and ... you know. Get lucky."

"Wow, you're really fired up today. First you go down on you mom, now you want to go down on me?" she said, looking at me as though scrutinizing me, or maybe my intentions.

"Or something. Although we have a few hours left before we have to leave, I actually kind of feel like we should try and sleep the remaining time away."

"I actually agree with that. And the dark circles around your eyes look almost unnatural."

"Ah, don't worry. You'll get used to them." I waved her away and made my way towards the couch, where only twenty minutes or so ago Sveta had been sleeping.

But although I was really tired, I realized that I didn't feel like sleeping. In spite of the tiredness, I also felt like I was on fire.

"I don't know what to do with myself." Sveta said, sitting down next to me. "I feel like on the one hand, I am in some sexual fantasy of mine. On the other hand – I don't know what you're thinking. Does what happened yesterday and today mean that we are now just completely open about sex?"

It was sweet that she felt like she had to be in any way, shape or form reserved around me. To make it easier on her I put a hand on her thigh and kissed her.

"We can do whatever you feel like whenever you feel like doing it."

"Then can I do something?" she said, sounding nervous.

"Sure."

"I want just look at parts of you. In my imagination, the way I pick up a woman is by inviting her home. Then we start talking and she tells me about some or other problem that she has. And I tell her 'Ok. You know how I can make you feel a bit better? I could give you a massage.'"

"I'd love a massage." I grinned.

"And then I slowly start rubbing all over her body, even all the secret parts, slowly getting more and more sexual." Sveta bit her lip, her hands softly rubbing my inner thighs, playing with the wetness from my vagina.

"I can dig that." I nodded. "How about we go to my room and you can make me 'feel better'?"

I took off my t-shirt and laid down on my bed, face down. My breasts pressed comfortably against my chest as I rested my head on my forearms.

"I seem to have this problem with my everything stemming from stress at school. Any chance you could help me out, doctor?" I asked in a playful voice, helping Sveta get going.

"Well. Maybe a massage could loosen some of the tension in your muscles and help you relax and think clearer?" she asked rubbing my shoulders.

"Maybe that." I agreed. "See what you can do, doc."

"Masseuses aren't doctors. Or not necessarily doctors, I think." Sveta said, her hands massaging my back in broader strokes than strictly necessary.

"I don't care, doc." my body shook as I laughed. "I just need your help."

Sveta was quiet for a moment.

"Would you mind being a bit more serious?" she said finally. "Like you're not interested? I want to try and win you over."

I sat up to look at her.

"You're really pushing my acting skills there." I said. "I am so wet down here-..." as I was talking, I grabbed her hand and pushed it down my skirt. "-... that I could cum by sneezing without expecting to."

"Ok, sorry. It's just something I thought of." she quickly said, licking her fingers after having touched my wetness. "That tastes nice." she added.

I laid back down and let a wave of calm wash over me, forcing my thoughts to stillness. I wanted Sveta to get her thing, I felt like I was being rude by not living up to her expectations.

"If it's just a massage, then I guess it's ok." I said. "My shoulders and back could use some work."

"No problem." Sveta said, resuming her rubbing my back muscles. "So what in school is stressing you out?"

"I kind of feel like talking about it will make me more stressed." I mumbled.

"You were the one that said that talking about something, shining a light on it, makes it feel easier to deal with." Sveta pointed out.

So as you might have gathered at this point, I talk a lot of life advice and philosophy. I think that's fairly normal, most people have a philosophy in life that they want to share. The problem that I experience is that I am twenty years old, but people who should know better listen to my advice as though I read it to them from engraved stone tablets I found on top of a mountain. And I am not always self-aware enough to tell people to be free to ignore me.

I have neither the life experience nor the intellect required to give people advice.

In spite of this, far too often people listen to me.

"Right." I said, remembering that I did indeed tell her that. "I guess I'm stressed because it feels like graphical art is over-saturated. Everyone too dumb to go into hard sciences go into art. I worry that I will end up like one of those cartoon homeless people, walking around a high-way with a sign saying 'Will do art for food'."

I expected Sveta to not have anything useful to say to this, but she surprised me.

"Yeah, there are a lot of people going into art. But there are lot of people going into programing as well. My dad deals a lot with hiring and firing personnel. I think you will like to hear what it's like.

Sure, he doesn't work in art or code, but it still applies.

The average person is going to be late to work fairly often, take out sick-days when they're not really sick but rather just hung-over, be lazy in their communication with their superiors or feel entitled to things outside of their employment contract.

Then there are the odd ones who treat their place of work like their own apartment. The ones who keep arguing with management on everything as though they are the ones who should be in charge.

If you are as good at art as the average artist but your behaviour is above average in all the other ways, then you will be seen as more valuable than the average employee."

"You make it sound easy." I chuckled.

"Nah, it's never easy. But you make it sound hopeless, and it's totally not." she said soothingly.

"Why are your hands on my butt?" I asked suddenly, as she spread my butt-cheeks.

"Oh! Uhm. There is a lot of tension here-..." she rubbed right in the middle at the top of my crack, scratching an itch I didn't know I had. "I just want to help you release all tension."

"Oh, ok I guess." I said doubtfully. "It feels nice, I have to admit.."

"Yeah, that's right. Now I'll massage your legs. Thighs and calves carry a lot of tension, especially on the upper calves and inner thighs."

"Sounds nice." I said as her hands started working my feet, then slowly moving up my legs.

She spent some amount of time rubbing and kneading my calves, but I felt that she was hurrying though them to get to my thighs so that she could start working my sweet spot. Getting into character, I decided not to let it happen just yet.

"You know, if you could just rub my heels a bit. They are sore from all the walking and talking and doing stuff."

As she went to work, I felt that this wasn't actually a bad idea. I'd never had my feet massaged before. I wasn't even entirely sure if my feet had ever been touched before at all, even by me. I tried to remember my "putting on socks" routine, but the only times I put socks on, or indeed removed them, was before and after sleeping, both times where I wasn't entirely cognitively present.

"How does it feel?" she asked, lifting one of my feet and massaging it with her both hands.

"I feel like my foot is a hotdog." I said.

She had cradled my leg between her breasts, slowly moving it up and down. Her breath on my foot felt really nice.

"Now just stay there and let me release all of your stress." she said, placing my foot back on the bed and then sitting on top of it, slowly gyrating her hips, as though hoping that I wouldn't notice.

"Mmmm, that sounds like a good idea." I replied, letting it go. "What an unorthodox move – to massage feet with your genitalia."

"It's an ancient-..." she broke off with a little moan, "-... ancient, Chinese style of treating travel fatigue."

"You are so full of crap!" I burst out laughing.

She joined in, grabbing both of my butt cheeks with her hands, forcefully kneading them.

"And this is an ancient Egyptian technique for making it easier to pull things out of your ass, is it?" I asked, still giggling.

"No, the theme today is Chinese." she laughed. "This is how you do if ... you want to have an orgasm but don't want to give it away."

"Subtle." I nodded. "I thought you wanted realism?"