The Best Lesson

by LesLuv

"I like being with you, Mummy." Susan snuggled closer to her mother. "You're just the best mum in all the world."

Maryanne had her arm under the neck of her daughter as they lay side by side, warm and comfortable, in the bed. She hugged her tighter and said, "Well, you're the very best daughter in all the world - well, the very best equal to Tiffany."

This was Susan's fourteen-month-old sister, loved and detested, pampered and ignored by her in equal measure. Eight years of being the princess in the palace, this pretty, bubbling doted-on daughter had been rudely shaken when her mother had once more conceived and delivered. So had her mother, but Susan had not known that - but over a year later her childish jealousy had been tempered by the miracle of life and growth, and by seeing herself in the role of carer and teacher. That felt really good.

"I love her, Mummy, but sometimes I don't. Sometimes she just cries and cries. Or she puts food on my dress and in my hair."

"When you're a mummy you expect those things from babies. They're learning, exploring, seeing how far they can go, and it doesn't matter too much, because you love them anyway. It's the way mothers are made. And you're learning too, learning how to control your feelings, learning patience and learning about sisters. And love. Because you'll be a mummy one day too."

Susan leant back on her mother's arm and thought about what she'd been told. She learnt so many things from her mother. Things she really wanted to know, even that she'd be punished if she broke the rules and did something really bad, like hiding daddy's car keys when he was running late.

After a while she raised herself up on one elbow and leant to kiss her mother on the cheek. "Love you," she whispered. "Cuddle?"

Cuddles were wonderful, they both knew that. Nothing to say, nothing to do, just have arms around each other and squeeze gently, a little rocking thrown in to make them complete. A few delicious moments, then a bit of stillness, and then a slide back to the side. As Susan looked back to her mother, she said, a big grin in her voice, "Oh Mummy, your top's open. I can see your boobies."

"Uh huh." But she made no move to cover herself. She'd taught her daughter modesty, but so what if her boobs were exposed. It wasn't the first time it had happened when her daughter was present. She was not a prude and not an exhibitionist, but a bit of nudity with her daughter was nothing special.

Susan continued to look at them, and after as minute reached out and began to stroke them. She liked the feel of her mother's skin, the smoothness and soft resilience of her breasts, their full roundness and dark pink nipples. She knew she'd sucked on them when she was a baby, and had watched in fascination as Tiffany had done the same, watching the sucking, the drops of milk oozing out of them. "You've got big boobies, haven't you, Mummy?"

Maryanne didn't answer, because she had her eyes closed and was savouring the suddenly intimate touch - but a sigh escaped, an 'mmm...', and sensing her mother liked what she was doing, Susan rubbed a bit faster. When she was not told to stop, her fingers found the breast's nipple and gently tugged on it. She'd been fascinated by the comfort and pleasure her mother seemed to get from the suckling infant, and suddenly wanted to suck on them again, but knew she was too grown up for that. She knew she'd have breasts of her own one day, and it did not seem wrong to be doing this to her mother. It felt right, somehow, so she continued, pulling a bit harder.

"Ah!" The exclamation was involuntary, the little breaths that followed it were the same. "Oh. Don't stop, darling, Mummy likes that. Yes, she does. Ah!" Her hand took Susan's and pushed the thumb and forefinger together, pinching the now swollen red nipple. "Do that. Suck it. Pinch the other one. Oh, God, you don't know, oh, love, you don't know how that feels. Do it, darling, do it. For Mummy."

Maryanne knew she was a frustrated housewife, a wistful, sad sexual castoff, her husband finding pleasure with his friends, his sports, his hobbies, and was reluctant to even kiss her properly, let alone make love to her. She had tried masturbation, without achieving any sense of relief, had looked longingly at some young, muscular men, but knew she was overweight, over forty, and over the hill. Her last intercourse had been nearly twelve months ago, just after Tiffany was born, so she'd forgotten about it until now. Suddenly she felt her libido coming back to life, a tension in her groin, a tensing of muscles and mind, an unexpected shiver of pure animal pleasure and a heat of uninhibited passion.  

With her own daughter! God, she was so wicked! Her Daughter! A pervert, a child molester, a paedophile, an incestuous, wicked woman. But she made no move to stop her. It was too nice. Too nice to stop, too urgent a need to be moral. Susan rolled half on top of her and put her mouth onto a breast, beginning to suck as hard as she could. There was still milk there, Tiffany having been fully weaned only a few weeks ago, and her body was still in suckling mode, a kind of reservoir for a last minute feed.

Maryanne began to pull on the other nipple, hard, strong stretchings, and the sensuous feelings within her grew, a warmth spreading from her chest to her groin, a nervous kick that made her begin to pant.  And it wasn't enough. She slid her other hand inside her pyjama bottoms and began to play. She could feel her clitoris, suddenly engorged by expectation, slippery excretions making the rapid finger movements easy and exciting. Her mind was screaming, 'Yes, yes, yes, come, come on, yes!' when the sucking stopped and she heard her daughter's voice.

"What are you doing, Mummy? You're all sweaty and hot."

Instead of answering, she pushed the blankets down, then her her pyjama bottoms, and then her daughter. Down, down so that she could get her hand into the warm, wet place between her legs. "Put your hand down there. In between my legs." She grasped the hand and forced it in. No time to be nice, no time to say please, just , oh, shit, what was she doing? Forcing her depravity on her innocent, beautiful child. She knew she should stop, turn on the cold tap, but - but - she couldn't. She wanted this. She needed this so much. She had to have an orgasm. It was too urgent. She had to have that blissful, overwhelming release.

"Put your fingers in there. Put your hand in there." She urged the hand inwards. "Push, push in and out, it's what Mummy wants you to do." She tried to show her what she meant, and after a moment her obedient child got the hang of it.

"But, Mummy, that's where babies come out. That's your vagina!"

"Yes, it's all right, just do it. I'll explain later. Just do it as fast as you can."

The motion began, the piston gathering speed as the technique was mastered. Her own fingers were scrabbling frantically at her clit, flicking and rubbing, desperate and determined. And here, by God, here it was.

The burst of awareness that she was about to explode, to be filled with the blast of orgasm,  and the anticipation of fulfillment made her pant, sent her heart racing, and built the tension so much she thought she would burst. "Yes. Faster. Yes. Ah. Ah, ah ah ah ahhh...." her back arched, her body vibrated, and her mind was filled with a frenzy of impending ecstasy.

Then, as her beloved daughter continued to do her best, to do what Mummy wanted, Maryanne was engulfed in  the wildest orgasm she'd ever had. Body heaving, limbs trembling, a yell, a shout of exultant release, and then the long, long magic carpet ride to the most delicious place on earth.

"Can I stop now, Mummy?"

Maryanne was brought back to the present world by the small plaintive voice. "Oh, darling, of course you can." She had been unconscious of the hand, tiring of its task, unconscious of everything else except her orgasm. She was trembling all over, unable to calm the nervous jittering but she managed to say, "Come and lie next to me. Come and I'll tell you what just happened."

"I'm all sticky. And I smell. What is that smell, Mummy?"

"It's me. Here, wipe your hands and come and lie next to me." She handed her some tissues and watched as her beautiful daughter wiped her hands, frowning in concentration as she did so. Then she slid up to lie in the crook of her mother's arm once more.

When she was settled Maryanne said, "What I just had is called an orgasm. It is a wonderful feeling, probably the best any woman can have, and it's all to do with what we adults call sex. You know something about that, don't you?"

"That's about making babies, the egg and - something, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is, but what you don't know is that having a baby, I mean actually having the baby come out of you is very, very painful. It's something you would be told about when you're older, but it doesn't matter, really, that you know now. What is important is that there's something to balance all that pain and discomfort. It's the orgasm. That happens to let you know that it's also marvellous to have children. And it happens when a man and a woman make love. Well, it can happen, but doesn't, not all the time. But it can also happen without the man, and you have just helped me have one." She looked down at her daughter and added with a smile, "Your hand, what it did, was like your daddy's penis inside me. And all that sticky stuff is lubrication, oily stuff to make it easy. And I love orgasms. So thank you. Would you like to do it again sometime? Not now, but sometime soon?"

Susan's mouth was open, astonishment on her face. This was such a lot of new knowledge, things she really needed to know, things she relied on her mother to tell her. She propped herself up on one elbow and looked in awe at her beautiful, wise and caring mother. "Oh, Mummy, I'll do that for you always. I love you so much." Without thought she leant over and kissed her mother gently on the lips, then put her head on her chest and sighed. She knew then that she'd have children, and would teach them all the things she was learning. It was right to know that.

"But there's something else to show you as well, sweetie. You can't have a real orgasm, that only happens when you are old enough to have children,  but I can make you feel what it's like a little bit. Would you like me to do that? Only it's not something mothers and daughters are supposed to do, so we can't talk about it to anyone else. Not any of this; you must remember it's very private, just between us."

Susan understood secrets, she and daddy had one about Mummy's birthday, and she thought the idea of a wonderful secret like this one was because she was so grown up. She felt really big, a big girl who knew things. "I can keep secrets, Mummy, and please, show me about orgasms. Will I scream like you did?"

Laughing, Maryanne said, "I don't think so, but you never know!"

They looked at each other, grinning conspirators, before Maryanne said, " O.K. my love, off with the nightie, roll over to the side of the bed, and I'll adjust things."

Nightie off, the side of the bed, and a pillow was slid down a short way. "OK, lie on the pillow. Put your behind on it, prop your head on the back of the bed so you can see. Right?"

A nod and it was done. "Open your legs wide and don't laugh. It might tickle."

Maryanne squirmed her way down the bed so she could position her head between her daughter's legs. "You know what this is called, don't you?" it was not really a question.

"Yes, my vagina. Or my cunnie, or a girl at school calls it her puss."

Her mother was not too surprised that girls talked about things like this at school. She had.  "O.K., my love, hold on. Here we go."

She had no qualms about doing this. Her older sister had introduced her to the pleasure of licking and fingering when she was just as bit older than her daughter was now, and she'd grown up knowing that the lovely sensations she'd felt were normal and natural. And to hell with society for making them wrong. She extended her tongue and began to lick the lips, the folds that guarded the inner sanctum.

"It's not tickling, Mummy, it's nice, feels funny though."

A little pressure and she was inside, savouring the little girl taste, the long forgotten taste of her sister's girlish secretions. A little further and she was into the inner opening, the tiny tube that would blossom into the birth canal one day.

Susan's "Ah!" was short and sharp. Probing circles brought forth more exclamations, and sliding up and down through the inner lips produced more.

Lifting her head and grinning up at the wide eyed, watching girl she said, "Good?"

"I'm shivering." Her teeth appeared to be chattering, but she added "It's like going up and up on the swing. Exciting. Lovely."

Then Maryanne began to flick the area, the apex of the triangle, the seat of the clitoris, and kept doing that until there was a small, almost strangled cry. "Oh," followed by, "Mummy, Mummy, I'm - " but the rest was lost in a whimper, a small sound of satisfaction and incredulity.

Maryanne looked up, smiling and licking her lips. Susan opened her eyes and looked into the eyes of her wonderful mother. After a moment she smiled back, but did not speak.

Finally, after eyes of love had taken their fill, Maryanne said, "That's like an orgasm. See what I mean?"  

Susan put her hand on her chest. "My heart is beating so fast. Oh, Mummy, it is so good. The feelings - I don't know the words." 

"That's all right, love, there are no words for the, not really. But now we both  know what they're like, don't we?" She .leant forward and kissed this wonderful child, kissed her tenderly on the forehead and lay down next to her.

"Can we do it again?"

"Yes, we surely can. When there's no one else home, when we're in the mood, without too many other things to distract us. Then it's the best."

"Love you." She was asleep in moments.

Maryanne carried her to her room and tucked her into her bed. As she climbed into the family bed, alone and unwanted by her man, she smiled to herself. 'Who needs him? Not me.' And a few moments later she too was asleep, the best, most wonderful rest for months. She was content. Happy.

Things were busy the next day; school had resumed, husband was home and grumpy about having to work late again that night, Tiffany was fretful with teeth, and the day just flew. That afternoon, when Susan had come home and got changed, she said to her, "Listen, love, I have to go next door for a little while. Mrs. Artjher is sick, and I want to make her comfortable until her daughter gets there. You'll be OK? Looking after Tiff? Call me if anything happens?"

"Sure, I want to read my book anyway." She'd done this before, no problems. And she liked watching her sister, talking to her, playing with her. Except it wasn't so good this time, because she didn't want to be played with, comforted or anything, it seemed. In the end she just sat by the window and cut out some paper dolls' clothes.

When her mother came back an hour later the house was quiet. Sensing Tiffany had at last gone to sleep, she tiptoed into her room, but found the cot empty. So was the TV room. And the kitchen and the bathroom. Susan's room was not, however.

Baby on the bed, legs dangling over the side, Susan kneeling in front of her, face buried in the crotch of her sister, licking and looking at her, waiting for the cry of pleasure. No crying, but a big, big smile, a gurgling laugh in her small voice, and a waving of happy arms.  Susan stopped when she heard her mother come in, looked up and said quite normally, "She likes it too. Don't you, Tiff?" No sense of wrong or guilt. Just as it should be.

"That's so good, darling, so good of you to think of that. She's going to love you forever, just like I do."

"You taught me, Mummy, so I taught her. You're a good teacher."

'And that,' thought Maryanne as she cuddled them both, 'is how the best lessons are learnt.' 

THE END