Looking Up

by Eva

My Dearest Abi

I suppose I should have written you earlier, but I have been very busy with all kinds of things since I moved here. Including one very big thing in my life, which I know is going to surprise you a lot. Or maybe not, if you know me.

But let me begin where we left off, when I left the old house in Ormington. You might remember when I said when I was going to move away from the area how unhappy I was at leaving you, dear Abi, and all my other friends. You and Suzanne and Letitia and Chrissy. It was, as you can imagine, quite a wrench after 42 years in the same town. I know I wasn't born there but Ormington was my home for almost all my life and it felt natural.

You will also remember how unhappy I was about my daughter Diana marrying Jeff, with him having three kids already. I made no secret of the fact that I thought he was too old for her and with family from his first marriage he wasn't likely to want more. Yes, we discussed all this before I left: as you said Diane is 23 now and old enough to make her own choices, but the fact that her husband-to-be was 38 didn't fit easily with me. Yes, I know what you're thinking: I'm 44 and he could have been the kind of age I might have wanted if I was looking for a man in my life!

But Jeff isn't the kind of man I'd have wanted. Sure, Tom's been gone nearly 12 years now but I still think of myself as married to him. So when Diana asked me to live with her and Jeff in their new home I knew why — they just needed a relationship-free child-minder while she pursued her career at the model agency. I know what you're also saying (I can almost hear you as I write this!) that it isn't quite how I paint it, that they respect me and want me to be part of this new family.

Well you know my views on that! But I have to admit Jeff is wealthy enough to provide a very good home for Diana and, yes, me too. I have my own rooms with bathroom and kitchen in what looks like a turret at one end of the house and to be honest I can retreat there and feel like I'm in my own place. I suppose there is something to be said for money after all.

I also wanted a grandchild of my own and it still faintly troubles me that Diane simply isn't the "motherly" type and has no plans to have kids. At all, ever.

So my first introduction to my new "grandchildren" was at the wedding. I felt bad that I didn't get over there earlier and get to know them but as you know I was pretty reluctant to go and hated the idea they might somehow "reject" me before the wedding day. I wasn't looking forward to the event but it would have been a lot worse if I'd had to go knowing I wasn't wanted at all. So the first sight of these three children was at the wedding itself. I ought at this point to tell you about them, so you know who is who — especially Joanna, who has come to have a special place in my life.

Joanna is the youngest of Jeff's three. She is five and apparently the image of her late mom, who I am assured was almost as beautiful as Diana is. Joanna is cute, freckles everyplace, and with a real winning smile under a mop of dark brown hair. For one so young she certainly knows how to melt people's hearts: she was the youngest of the three bridesmaids and looked totally aware of her pride of place immediately behind Diana.

Joanna's older brother is Danny, a precocious 12 year old who sulked and sneered trough the whole wedding and there is a sister, Martine, who is eleven. Martine is attractive with blonde hair but she puts on far too many airs and graces for someone of her age. In some ways these two older children are everything I thought wealthy kids were — ungrateful and condescending at the same time. You know what I think about badly-behaved kids, Abi, right?

Now I can't say I thought much of Jeff's parents either. They are divorced and not getting along too well, so there was a frosty atmosphere at the wedding before we started. I got the feeling I was expected to take sides and when I didn't, I was felt even more on the outside of things.

So you see, with no one there from my family but Diana who was busy and pre-occupied, I can't say that I enjoyed the wedding much as a social event. At least, not until little Joanna appeared round my legs.

I was sat at one of those long tables which had, as the wedding meal progressed, gradually become more and more deserted. No one took much notice of me and in a way I was glad to be left alone. I was daydreaming of being back in Ormington (and yes, cuddled up to you Abi with your hand inside my knickers!) when I felt something push at my legs. My first instinct was a cat had got into the reception and was looking for someone to rub up against, so I put my hand under the table cloth, expecting to feel something soft and furry. Imagine my surprise when what I felt was a small child. A face emerged from under the tablecloth, grinning up at me. It was little Joanna, or Jo as I now call her.

Yes, you are probably guessing where this is heading. After all, we did share quite a few secrets in our "special" times in Ormington and my interest in small girls was well known to you. So here I was, staring down at a delightful little child who was just about the only person who wanted to be with me, it seemed. Now, had Jo simply been playing a game of hide and seek, or messing about, I wouldn't have taken much notice other than being polite as the little one and I were now (vaguely) related. But Jo was being cheeky in a nice way. She said: "You're Mrs Walsh aren't you? And I can see up your skirt."

I was, needless to say, quite embarrassed. I know you will both be surprised and in a way not surprised to learn that I had worn my "comforter" to the wedding. Heavens, I wore it to lots of places. But you will remember it, the little Japanese-made device that straps to the inside of my thigh and sends those delightful little bolts of current to my pussy. I know you never quite got on with it when you tried it, but it is always great fun for me.

Gosh, you will be saying, why on earth did you wear that thing to a wedding? Your daughter's wedding at that!

Oh well, I guessed I would be lonely and it was a late decision to strap it on me and set the pulses to low (if random) surges. Fresh batteries, of course! I had reasoned I would be spending time on my own and expected I would both be bored with the speeches and almost certainly not be asked to dance, except by some lecherous old man who wanted to peer down my bust and grope my bum (yes, there are some people who are allowed to do that, but they aren't male). So I had decided to sit quietly enjoying the little pulses and surges under my skirt. It would if nothing else give me a pleasant smile as if I was enjoying the event, I told myself.

Anyway, briefly I had hoped that little Jo in her innocence would think that whatever it was with wires going up into my knickers was something "normal" and ignore it. But she is a smart child and wanted to know more. She emerged from under the table, hopped up on an empty chair beside me and asked: "That thing up your skirt Mrs Walsh... what is it?"

"First of all," I said pleasantly, "I am your new mummy's mummy so you don't have to call me Mrs Walsh." I never liked being Mrs Walsh anyway, so I told little Jo my first name. "You should call me Tara."

"Tara," said the little girl, as if lodging it in her memory . "Okay, Tara, what's those wire things up your legs?"

"Ah," I said, "can you keep a secret?" The delightful little girl assured me should could, so I continued. "That's a little invention to keep ladies like me happy. But you mustn't tell anyone I have it."

"Okay... but why?"

"Well now, Joanna, that's because it is important if you have a good friend not to spoil the friendship by telling other people secrets." I paused to let the words sink in. "Unless of course you don't want to be friends."

"Oh I do! I like you Mrs... I mean, Tara. I want to be your friend! Always!"

At that moment my dear little pussy-pleaser gave me a little sharp jolt. At least, I think it was a surge. It could have been just a normal 'hey here's a pretty little girl smiling at me' twitch of my cunny, but if it was it was the most powerful I'd ever felt. I think my jaw must have sagged a little then because dear little Jo looked at me inquiringly. I responded by smiling and saying: "Another secret's going on right now," which seemed to please her because she did one of those heart-melting little girl winks that are obviously all effort, but nonetheless are very endearing. I took it she liked sharing secrets.

Little Jo settled back into the chair — little legs sticking straight out and her peach satin bridesmaid dress hanging down around the seat — and seemed in no hurry to rush off. Most little girls are a bundle of energy and can't sit still but she was quite at ease with me. After a moment or two she looked up at me and leaning in as if wanting to share something she whispered: "I like you, Tara. An' I like sharing secrets with you."

I assured her I liked sharing them too and we sat back and watched the general confusion of the wedding reception. As you know I had taken a dislike to Jeff's parents and they were arguing not too far away and raising their voices, which I thought was very unthoughtful of them. But it actually drew Jo and me closer together, for the child leaned back towards me and whispered: "I have a secret, Tara. I don't like Grandpa and Grandma."

I tried to make some reassuring noise about grownups and difficulties (without mentioning the D word) but it all sounded hollow. Really I wanted to tell Jo I didn't like them either. However I didn't need to mention the divorce because little Jo interrupted me and said: "It's that divorce, isn't it? I heard my daddy and Diana talking about it. Daddy says they are selfish people."

I should have made more noises about not being sure they were selfish at all but I couldn't, so I simply nodded. Just then my pulser (all very sci-fi, I know!) suddenly gave me a pleasant twinge and I sat upright with a surprised look on my face. That made little Jo laugh and I have to say her laugh was not only delightful but infectious. Suddenly she said: "What made you do that?"

"My secret thing," I whispered. "The thing under my skirt went 'whoosh' in a nice way."

Now quite why I was telling Jo this I have no idea. I would like to think that I felt like I could trust her but I suspect I wanted her to take more of an interest in me. "Whoosh," chuckled the little angel, and then she said: "Please, Tara, can I look up your skirt again and see that thing again?"

"There's not much to see, sweetheart," I said. "Just a little box and a few wires." But the thought of a girl as young as this poking her head up my skirt, hidden by the table cloth, was too good to pass on. "But okay, providing you promise not to tell anyone," I said gently.

Jo winked in the clumsy way small children do and dived under the table. I looked round to see if anyone was watching and as they weren't I eased my chair closer to the table and spread my legs wide, hidden to all but the beautiful little Jo, and surreptitiously hitched my skirt back. At once I felt the child brush against my stockinged legs. I could even feel her breath on the inside of my thigh and her little hands already reaching up. Oh my poor excited pussy, Abi... it was pulsing all on its own now! Jo's fingers were not only on the small grey box that was strapped with the velcro strip round my thigh but where I had fastened it under my suspenders on my left leg to stop it sliding down, but on the soft flesh of my thigh above the welts of my stockings. I honestly believed little Jo was just as intrigued by the fact I wore suspenders and nylons as well as this device but I soon felt her little hands tugging at the two wires that connected the box to my pussy.

I have to admit I eased my legs a little wider apart and hitched my skirt back more. Honestly, if anyone had come up and asked me to dance right then and I'd have got up, I am sure my skirt wouldn't have dropped back in time. Can you imagine me standing in full view with my bum and knickers on show? Well, yes you can because that was how you liked me to parade round your living room whenever I'd bought any new underwear!

Fortunately no one disturbed me, or Jo for that matter. Her hands were right on my crotch now, and to my astonishment she eased back the gusset of my knickers to see how the wires were attached to my sex. As you will recall, they are fastened with two small adhesive patches (waterproof, naturally) with one on each labia. The theory in case you've forgotten is it sends a pulse of electricity between the two patches and in turn... well... you know.

I know Abi you think I must be some old perve allowing a five year old girl up my skirt (and in such a risky place too) but I have to tell you the feeling of a small girl's hand between your legs is indescribable! I was on the verge of coming as she began to stroke the patches, and her little muffled voice from between my legs and under the table was tipping me over the edge. She was asking things like: "Is this nice?" (as she touched me), "Can you feel this?" (as she poked her slender finger into the lips of my sex) and of course the expected; "Why are you so hairy?" as she stroked her fingers through my bush. I'm afraid all I could do was whimper in response.

Above all though she was entranced by my little pulse device, even saying if she put her ear to it it hummed slightly. In truth, her putting her ear to the device also brought her face up to my crotch and I could feel her nose nuzzling my slit. If I had died at that moment I would have sworn I was in heaven! I even put my hand on the back of Jo's head and stroked it, or pretended to. Secretly I was trying to make sure she wouldn't withdraw her head from where I wanted it to be. I also (shameful to admit) wanted her to smell the aroma of a mature, aroused female. And perhaps to draw the sharp smell into her lungs: I didn't want anyone coming past to wonder if I was masturbating under the table cloth. Well, I was doing much better than that!

By now Abi you will be getting the idea I was pretty much taken with this child. Oh yes, I know you think that sex with small girls is best left to fantasy but the reality is sublime, I can assure you. Jo was curious to know more about my anatomy and showed no reluctance in being down there. I even eased the table cloth up, peeked down and saw her grinning face looking up at me. "This is fun," she said and giggled. I wanted it to be even more fun!

What had promised to be a boring wedding and a great waste of time was turning out to be one of the greatest moments in my life. In fifteen heady minutes I had gone from being a lonely middle-aged woman reliant on technology for pleasure to having a pretty little girl rubbing her nose against my sex.

"Jo," I tried to say but my voice was all cracked and husky. I was trying to ask her to kiss me between my legs (either through my knickers or with them held aside, I didn't care much though the latter would have been the most delicious) but like I say my words were coming out all wrong. Little Jo though seemed to get the idea without any prompting because, as I watched, she pressed her lips up to my knicker crotch, then eased it aside and repeated the act, pressing her lips up to my nether lips — which were pretty wet now and puffy with arousal and my aroma really distinct.

This is always the moment when it can go wrong. Some little girls will be repelled by the taste of a mature woman's secretions, if they haven't already been put off by the hair, the smell, the shape of a pussy close up and even the act of being close to it all. But Jo had passed the test with flying colours at each stage and was about to be the champion of my heart.

I am not ashamed to say I clutched little Jo's pretty head and pressed her face into my sex. I am thankful that most people were on the dancefloor and one of Diane's friends was making an exhibition of herself (no surprise as she was drunk I could see) and the disco music was loud enough to hide my somewhat sharp gasp as I came. Jo for her part did not pull away, thankfully, and her kiss was as wonderful as I dared hope. I fear I was about to smother her as I came hard, burying her head into my twat and holding it tightly there, but there was no way I could let go until I had cum.

And sister, did I cum! I'd never felt an orgasm like that for years and only as it ebbed away did I let little Jo's head go. I was, I admit, more than anxious about what I'd done to her, but as I lifted the tablecloth I could see her face smiling up at me... if a little flushed from her lack of oxygen. Better still, I had squirted my cream all over her face and even in that half-light under the table I could see it glistening on her pretty face. "You okay, darling?" I asked, and happily she nodded. She even - and this I will treasure for a long time - licked her lips as if enjoying the taste of my cum!

I could cheerfully have grabbed her head and pressed it back to my twat but I saw my daughter approaching me, picking her way round the chairs on my side of the table. I dropped the tablecloth and tried, without success, to tug my skirt down. I just hoped Diana didn't want me to stand up right away. Above all I didn't want her to see little Jo, all covered with my secretions.

I needn't have worried on two counts. First, Diana was only concerned with herself and sat down next to me a little unsteadily as she had already drunk too much champagne. "Oh, mum, I need your help," she blurted, launching into a story that a relative of Jeff's who had agreed to look after all three of his kids while the newly-married couple went off on honeymoon couldn't take all three. Only two for some bizarre and convoluted reason. So would I be an angel and look after one of them at the house for two weeks?

So, Abi, guess which one of the three I said I would look after? Yes, you guessed it!

At that moment the second of my fears evaporated. Little Jo popped up at the far end of the table and waved at me and Diana. We both waved back, and from what I could see there was no evidence of anything glistening on the darling's pretty face. I can only assume she had wiped her face on the tablecloth before emerging. Clever girl!

Needless to say my little device gave me a surge right then and there and I gave a little gasp. Loud enough for Diane to notice. She asked if I was okay and I assured her I just had a little cramp. I can only assume my pussy was still aroused from the child's kiss and I felt that pulse more than most.

Having been assured I was feeling okay Diane thanked me for being so kind as to look after Joanna. She moved away as someone wanted her and the bridesmaids for a picture, and I saw my daughter take Jo's hand and lead her off. I suppose the child might then and there have confided to her new mum that she had been "kissing her new grandma's pussy" but I felt I could trust Jo. Certainly nothing was said and I even managed to tug my skirt down in time for when they came and asked me to pose with my daughter for yet more pictures. Interestingly when I had to pose with the children for a few pictures little Jo took my hand and held it tightly.

Better still, she whispered to me as the photos were taken she wanted to see my knickers again, and that thrilled me as you can imagine. I whispered back that they were all wet and little Jo giggled. "I like them wet and squidgy" she grinned up at me.

We were inseparable after that. Everywhere I went Jo followed, often clutching my hand as if to let go she would lose me forever. Well, there was no danger of that! We even went to the loo together, dear little Jo insisting on coming into the cubicle with me. I am not sure what anyone else thought but perhaps it looked as if I was just a kindly grandma helping a child with her long bridesmaid dress. I was, but in a different way. I needed to get my hand up the sweet little thing's dress and feel her soft little slit while she did the same to me. Oh yes, and bob her head down between my spread legs and lick at my sopping knickers and then, easing them aside, lick my pussy to orgasm.

We must have been in that cubicle for thirty minutes or more, but no one came looking for us and when I got out I really had to redo my make-up as it looked as if I'd been crying. Perhaps I had, with the joy of the best orgasms I could ask for. Incidentally, my batteries had run out on my device and I had taken it off and put it in my handbag — and all the while having dear sweet Jo fingering me. Yes, little girl's fingers are way too small to really do what I most like but I showed her how to make a fist and it was wonderful, if dangerous as it made definite slurping noises as she pistoned her little hand in and out of me.

On the other hand (as it were) most women coming in to the toilets were either too drunk or emotional to care — and in one case, exchanging kisses from what I could tell. I wished I knew who they were as it is always satisfying to know there are bisexual women around, even at something as straight as a normal wedding.

Now I have to come to the bit that you will probably find most astonishing. While we were in the loo I had to pee. I know we had played piss games in Ormington with Chrissy but I never thought I'd say that with a small girl it is beyond delight. As I let a stream of piss go little Jo put her hands under the stream, quite without any prompting. She even said, as she did so: "I love you Tara."

I groaned as I saw what she was doing and had to clamp my hand over my mouth to stop me crying out in joy. That made Jo giggle and she took one hand from the stream — and glistening with my piss — put it over her own mouth without hesitation!

From then on I knew my time with Jo was going to be utterly wonderful. I tried to slow my pissing so that she could swap hands and having whispered to her what I wanted her to do she did it without question, so she got a fresh handful of my piss in her face. And in her mouth too, because she opened her mouth wide to show me her tongue which she said was "all wet from my wee-wee."

I could have kept the angel in that cubicle all afternoon but I knew we had to emerge soon, if only because I knew my daughter and her husband would be setting off soon for their honeymoon and we should all be there to wave goodbye. We came out all flushed with pleasure and soon presented ourselves with the throng of party guests about to wave the happy couple off on their journey to the Maldives. Having said that, I am not sure if anyone would have missed us if we had remained having sex in the toilets, but at least we knew the coast was clear.

Within an hour we were back at the (empty) house with the whole place to ourselves but the first thing to test was the bed in my room — which, I am happy to say, was entirely big enough for a woman and a small girl to make love. However we made love all over the house, including the master bedroom, and had a lot of fun in all the three bathrooms, even graduating to little Jo drinking my piss direct from my pussy lips. And good girl that she was, little Jo hardly spilt any of my nectar.

There was one more surprise in a fortnight devoted to having sex, pissing on (and into) my angel and intimately playing with each other's bodies. Out of the blue one afternoon as we lay in bed in the warm sunshine Jo asked me to marry her! She said she had a wedding gown (her bridesmaid's dress, naturally) and — having seen her daddy wear a black suit at the wedding — asked if I had anything black to wear as her "husband." I told her between pussy kisses (her lips on my sex, naturally) that all I had was some black underwear — so that was how it turned out.

To the strains of the Wedding March I in my black lace bra, knickers and suspender belt set and little Jo in her bridesmaid dress (without, at my insistence, any knickers on underneath) walked down the hall of her father's house hand-in-hand and in front of the big mirror exchanged vows of promising to love each other always and do whatever was necessary to make the other person more than happy. I put a little ring on her finger and then said she must "kiss the groom," and with a grin she ducked her head to my crotch, lifted my black panties aside and kissed me deeply with tongue in my slit.

Then we toasted each other with me having a little champagne in a glass and Jo having some of my piss in her glass, and went to bed in our "honeymoon suite" of her father's and Diane's bedroom with of course, the all important en-suite so handy for all our little games. I have to tell you I have never been so happy and for the next few days we hardly left the bedroom and bathroom and did everything we could think of to make each other happy as "husband and wife."

Poor Jo must have drunk a lot of my piss as her little tummy was often swollen with the amount of liquid she carried. But the angel never complained and looked forward each time to a good, long drink from me among all the kisses and cuddles and licks.

As you can see I am very happy with my little wife and I intend to be for quite some time. Until I write again, take care.

Love

Tara

The end