Tara, Chapter 3

by Chrestomathist

One evening, I was making out with my mother on our couch, the TV on but ignored, when I screwed up my courage and deftly placed my hand on her crotch and squeezed slightly. My worst fears were realized. Mom jerked her face back away from mine (a trail of saliva between us... hot! But let me concentrate) and her eyes were wide, stunned. I immediately turned bright red and smiled dumbly to deflect my embarrassment. My head was spinning; I know I sidled down off Mom, she smoothed out her lap and bounced up and left the room... my blood pumped furiously in my ears, I was embarrassed and thought I'd broken the erotic spell I'd woven over the two of us forever. By now as I mentioned I was riding the wave of forbidden incestuous foreplay, thrilling to its forbidden-ness, but I also had developed an enormous crush on Mom, all the daughterly affection I had for her augmented now that she had (to that point) willingly participated in our new "girl time."

I was beside myself with worry. Fortunately it wasn't long until I was reassured. That night before she retired for the night, my mom kissed me goodnight — the way we'd kissed goodnight the last several nights before, warmly, wetly, lips and tongues dancing, Mom mmphing and moaning a little into my mouth. I began to understand: Mom was ok with where we were, but was uncomfortable going further — or at least wasn't sure. I knew then it would take more to seduce her than flash my mad kissing skillz (ha ha).

But how? I considered having Mom catch me masturbating, possibly in the hot tub. But what if she didn't become aroused and join me, but rather wrinkled her nose and told me to pull myself together? I'd die of embarrassment. I thought about just trying again — just because she was alarmed the first time I'd felt her down there didn't mean she would be next time; I could even start further north. But my heart thumped — the bad way — at the idea. I couldn't bring myself to try that again, in case I'd been given a temporary reprieve, and trying again would ruin things once and for all.

The plan I settled on at first, which (not to ruin it for you) didn't actually work, was one where I could hopefully kill two birds with one stone. I would catch Mom and Todd doing the nasty. They would stop, horrified, Todd would be so wigged out (particularly if I acted like, you know, myself, with my kind of advanced sexual awareness for a 14-year-old) he would break up with Mom, and Mom and I would have a heartfelt, sobby, sloppy mother/daughter talk about sex and I would confess my frustration that she and I couldn't do it and she would melt under my entreaties and peel her clothes off for me and...

So that's what I did. Todd didn't stay over much, but he did occasionally, and the next occasion was five days after make-outus interruptus on the couch. I feigned going to be early, listened for the two of them to get into Mom's bed, then crept outside and knelt down on the floor outside her door to listen for the perfect time. I heard the creaking of bedsprings and (it made me fume) my mom grunt and moan under the dispicable Todd, and I opened the door, which Mom really should have locked. Mom yelped and I rubbed my eyes as though just awakened, and dispicable Todd rolled off Mom in such a way that it must have hurt (good!) and stared dumbstruck at me in the doorway. "Tara!" Mom yelped. I began to yawn, then acted surprised, my eyes growing wide, as I saw the naked adults frantically covering themselves with bedsheets in front of me. "Get out!" she screeched, and I stuttered that I was sorry, I hadn't been really awake, and I hustled out the door, strategically leaving it open. "SHUT THE DOOR!" Mom screamed. I went back and did, smirking to myself.

But Todd didn't slink home 10 minutes later, defeated and dumped; Mom didn't knock on my door and sit on my bed and comfort me and then fall prey to my sexual wiles, and I was so frustrated by all that I didn't even get myself off, even after having hours to imagine the scene I just described. The next morning, after Todd left and I appeared downstairs, Mom was obviously simmering, and I guessed that she put two and two together — my undaughterly touch on the couch, my phony sleepwalking — and decided I was trying to do something totally inappropriate, including ruin her relationship with Todd. My mom is very smart, and I was worse off than I had been the day before.

I needed a better plan. Another one that ended up being not all that great I won't get into a lot of detail about, but suffice it to say that Todd's working hours were not exactly like Mom's, so he was often home (at his house) when school ended for me. One afternoon the next week I got a ride and made my way there and seduced him, and I gave him what I thought was a pretty good blow job; but he was sure as hell not going to tell Mom, and afterward I felt so guilty that I wasn't going to, either. So let Todd jiz in my mouth and didn't get anything out of it for myself. See how good I am at all this? Fabulous. (I'm exaggerating. Todd definitely did not come over as much for a while after that, which was a plus. But they didn't break up, and I had to put up with his leers and innuendo when Mom wasn't around or couldn't hear, when he did show up. So it was a push.)

It took a few days after my "sleepwalking" escapade for Mom and my "girl time" to return to "normal" (as in, make-out normal), but it did, so at least I hadn't permanently screwed that up. We had even made the slightest of moves down the road to full blown sex: Boobs were not off limits anymore. As much as I treasured my burgeoning relationship with Mom, and can recall so many things in graphic detail about it, I honestly don't remember when that started. But I definitely enjoyed it. Not so much in the hot tub, but on the couch, where (by the way) sometimes Mom would be leaning in over me instead of the other way around, we would caress each others' tits while making out. I even got underneath her top once, but did not have the courage to venture under her bra. Her breasts were big, soft and enticing, and touching them lovingly made our "girl time" even more erotic and enjoyable. For her part, Mom would palm my smaller breasts, over my top, and even rub a little, which would force an involuntary gasp out of me — which I tried my best to stifle, knowing very well how the wrong move could screw things up. But we settled into that, and I was very glad.

So here we were, my sexual advance rebuffed, my ill-conceived plan(s) failing, but we were v e r y g r a d u a l l y working our way to where I wanted to go. But I simply didn't have the patience. I still fretfully cast about for a way to finally seduce my mother, to make her want me — or admit she wanted me — as much as I wanted her. Then one day it came to me. My walking in on my mom hadn't worked. What if she walked in on me? This idea wasn't just a bad porn plot. I sensed that Mom's hangup was that she still couldn't see me, or perhaps a girl in general, as a sexual creature. She loved our intimacy as far as it went as much as I did, but beyond kissing and "second base" touching, she couldn't conceive of me having sex, or me having sex with a woman. If I were a little off, and the problem was really that she couldn't see herself having sex with a woman, seeing me and a girl having sex together was the surest way I could think of to bring the idea to the forefront.

Finding a partner wouldn't have been that difficult, but finding the right one was a little more problematic. I decided it should be a sleepover so we weren't rushed and so we didn't have to time things just right so when my mom came home from work she'd walk in on us. (And what if she weren't alone when she came home? Sometimes despicable Todd was tagging along.) Plus, it would be one thing to talk a girl into having sex with me; it would be quite another to subject her to our getting caught by Mom. I needed someone who could plan to spend the night and who would trust me, and my Mom, unreservedly. I called my 11-year-old cousin Laurie.

I've already mentioned that my relationship with Laurie is even now very special, and I loved her dearly then too. She giggled and clapped (adorable!) when I suggested she come over Friday night and spend the night, and she was thrilled to be in on my devious plan. Perfect. My mom, and my aunt, thought it a little strange that a 14-year-old wanted to spend time with an 11-year-old, but we were very close as cousins go (little did they know), and I didn't have a lot of girlfriends from school or anything. So it was settled, Friday night it would be. Laurie and I would have sex, get my mom to catch us, and I would not relent: I would convince Mom that I wanted her, too, and she also wanted me, and that she and I should make love. I practically giggled myself thinking about it.

Laurie is beautiful, and as an 11-year-old, she was simply edible: eyes always seeming to be smiling brightly, mouth slightly open all the time, seemingly in wonder, very slightly chubby face; gorgeous, luxurious auburn hair, usually in a beret; and the way her body responded to touch, she wasn't jerky or spastic, it was like flipping a switch, and soon this tiny little lover was smoothly caressing you back, tilting her head seductively, squeezing her eyes shut and forming an 'o' with her mouth when you were feeling her tiny pussy, smouldering with lust where many girls twice her age would be panting and shaking and making a spectacle of themselves. (I know whereof I speak.) We could barely contain ourselves waiting for Mom's bedtime Friday night. Our plan was to be so noisy in our sex that Mom would come in to see what was wrong. We were going to be so into what we were doing that we "wouldn't hear" her if she just knocked. We had it all worked out.

Mom finally went to bed, and Laurie and I practically raced upstairs five minutes behind her, hand in hand. Once in my room I picked her up and tossed her on my bed, and she yelped and laughed. I closed the door so it was open just half an inch, then bounced on the bed myself. Laurie and I kissed, and like I said, once she was in "lover mode," Laurie was this smouldering, lustful thing, caressing my back and the back of my head, kissing me sloppily with her thin little lips. I'd learned a lot about kissing since my mom and I started making out, and Laurie noticed approvingly. Her tongue tasted mine, her lips nipped at mine, and I took the opportunity to show her what I'd learned, moving my face around as I lapped at her mouth expertly, cupping her beautiful little face and drawing it further into mine. We undressed, still kissing; I dipped down and pressed my tongue against her tiny nipple, and she sucked in her breath and tangled her tiny fingers into my hair. When we were completely nude I lay down and pulled my little lover on top of me; she immediately began to hump my thigh and she was sopping wet. We had done this before, of course, but always at least semi-spontaneously. Tonight — all week, in fact — we had been anticipating each other, and we revelled in finally being naked together. I cupped her little ass and ground her harder onto my leg; she massaged my tits, and I was delerious with lust for my little girl.

But I hadn't forgotten the bigger point of all this, so I moaned and "oh"ed louder than usual. I think I startled Laurie alittle bit, but through her lustful haze she realized what I was doing, and she cried out herself, "oh, Tara, ohhhhhh..." My finger was on and in her pussy now, and at first she shuddered soundlessly, then shrieked strategically; we both smiled. I frigged her good, and soon enough her hand was on me, too, she was smearing her fingers around in my lube and she stuck two, then three fingers in — like her I wordlessly exulted, then thought to cry out, and did. We were frigging each other towards orgasms, and my mouth was watering — I got Laurie's attention and communicated what I wanted wordlessly, and she immediately sidled down my body and planted her mouth on my pussy. I cried out once, and then again with savage joy as Laurie swung her little body around so her own crotch was positioned over my face. I grabbed her ass and pulled her to me, and we ate each other out, Frenching each other's hot cunts. Hers was tiny and tight for my tongue, mine felt like it had melted into a hot liquid in her mouth.

I was conscious that a lot of noisy time had passed without interruption from my mom, and if I had been smart, I would have enjoyed Laurie for a while without interruption, but I wasn't exactly thinking clearly. While we were sixty-nining I slapped at my nightstand for something sort of heavy, it ended up being my phone receiver. I threw it at the wall between my room and Mom's. I startled Laurie a little, but not enough to make her stop. Thank God. For good measure I picked up a beanie stuffed animal from my nightstand and heaved that at the wall, too; it hit with a decidedly muted thump, unlike the thunderclap when the phone hit the wall, but now satisfied, I turned my full attention back to Laurie. My fingernails dug into her ass cheeks; then I took one finger and lubed it with her pussy juice and began to wriggle it into her tiny little asshole. I don't think I'd ever done that to Laurie, but I was consumed with lust, and, in the back of my mind, I thought Mom walking in on us would be even more effective if one of us was coming; I picked Laurie. She reacted as though struck by lightning, her head jerked up so her chin was planted in my pussy, and she cried out — quite for real, I was sure, then she shook violently as my tongue abraded her little pussy and my finger wriggled in her anus, and she came in torrents, screeching. I wasn't far behind her.

That's when the door opened and I saw Mom standing there, looking she'd caught me hacking Laurie to pieces with a machete. Laurie saw her, too, but was fucked dumb, and couldn't say anything beyond "oh.... ohhh...." I was SO CLOSE, but Laurie had stopped attending to me, and I gently rolled her off me, shaking myself, and tried to look intruded upon and embarrassed.

Mom, turning redder and redder each second, turned on her heel and stalked out. My heart sank to my stomach. I don't know what I had expected, but that wasn't it.

"Fuck," I cursed, and Laurie, recovering, made a pouty face that made me feel worse.