Shhhhhh, says Fireman Sam, Part II: From Polly's Point of View

by Marsha

Aunt Jean has known me my entire life. We have been lovers since I was six years of age. I'm now 28; Jean is 68.

My mother and her sister, Jean, were active lovers in their teens, so they have both told me; and they remain extraordinarily close to this day. But that's another story.

My aunt and I have written two stories you can read on this forum. The stories were written after she and I enrolled in a journal writing class at our community college. Because we were the only pair of relatives taking the class, the instructor encouraged us to write about "shared experience" which would lead to class discussions about the writer's point of view and how the same incident can be viewed differently. We wrote a couple of stories about birthdays and family gatherings and shared them with the class.

But Jean and I quickly realized that the shared experiences we truly wanted to write about where when me made love. Writing about our sexual encounters was a brand new way to enjoy them all over again. But these would not be stories we would share with our classmates in the community college. Rather, we would like to share them here, on this forum, where readers appreciate women who love girls and girls who love women.

Here is a story about a "shared experience" as lovers we had 20 years ago—when I was an 8-year-old sexually curious girl who adored her 48-year-old lesbian aunt with the butch haircut and the taunt, lean body of a long distance runner.

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I bathed tonight without Aunt Jean's help, and I didn't like it. Jeanie doesn't like me to call her Aunt Jean unless I'm introducing her to my friends or another adult; but, in my mind's eye, I like thinking about her as Aunt Jean.

I can talk about anything with Aunt Jean—including sex. My mother won't talk to be about sex. Certainly Dad doesn't. Jean told me once she would always answer my questions and try to help me understand and experience sex—if I didn't tell anyone else about it. That was fine with me: I like secrets. And I like sex with my aunt, too.

Whenever Aunt Jean bathes me, she fondles me in ways that surprise and amaze me. Touching her often gives me goose bumps and leaves me warm all over.

The first time we had sex was more than a year ago. After my bath one night, Aunt Jean put special oils on her hands and rubbed her hands and fingers all over my body—tickling my nipples and inserted her fingers in me. Maybe I was six years old. Seems like a long time ago; seems like we've always been lovers this way. I love the way Jean fingers my pussy. I love how she puts her fingers--and sometimes her thumb--up my asshole.

No matter what we do whenever we're together, we hug and kiss. I love my Aunt Jean. She fills me with warmth. I feel good when I'm with her. I want to be my best when I am with her. I love being loved by her; and I love having sex with her. I'm a lucky girl.

Sometimes when I'm alone in bed, I feel myself—my chest, my nipples, my pussy--and finger myself as if I were Jeanie, as if my hands were hers. And it's like magic: often a wave of warmth swells up inside me and overwhelms me like a sea change.

Sometimes thinking about my aunt's hands and fingers and fondling myself I can take myself to the same sensual edge she takes me--and then over it. Sex with my aunt often makes me I feel like I'm falling safely from a tree, floating, drifting, with warm air rushing over me as I sink gently to the ground on my back, nude.

Sometimes the magic of making love to myself makes me feel like I'm running naked on a beach on a hot summer day—fresh air flowing between my legs and exciting my nipples.

My aunt and I share a birth month—"the lusty month of May," she calls it. This May I'll be eight, and Jean will be 48. She's a little bit older than my mother. My mother and Jean are close. They, too, like to hug. Sometimes I see Mom and Aunt Jean give each other kisses, not as sisters but as lovers.

For my birthday last year, Aunt Jean bought me the full set of Fireman Sam bath toys. Once when she was bathing me, Jean showed me how the nozzle could be inserted into my pussy, if I was careful not to hurt myself. I loved it because the nozzle was fatter than my fingers. It felt good inside my pussy. I love putting stuff "up there."

Jean demonstrated on herself how to use the nozzle as what she called "a sex toy." Taking off her clothes and sitting on the edge of the bath tub, she showed me how to insert it—gently, then pushing and pulling it in and out. I loved looking at her pussy. It was amazing to see how she used the nozzle to pleasure herself. She said the nozzle would be a good way for me to fuck myself in the bathtub when she wasn't around.

Jean explained that using Fireman Sam's nozzle as a sex toy was "our secret." When she told me this she put his finger to her mouth and said, "Fireman Sam says 'shhhhhhh.'"

Now, whenever we want to be sexy with each other, one of us looks at the other and says, "shhhhhhhhh."

I did use the nozzle that way—and when I did I always thought of how my aunt bought it just for me and wanted me to use it this way…and to think of her when I did. But, frankly, I much preferred Jeanie's hands.

After drying off from my bath, I put on the special Fireman Sam nightie that Jeanie made for me. It was cut really short—shorter than my mother liked—and I liked it a lot. I also slipped on the matching red panties Jeanie gave me. Jean had purchased a sexy pair of petite panties and tailored them to my size. My mom thought the panties looked "inappropriate" for someone my age; but, needless to say, I loved them.

In my Fireman Sam nightie and silky panties, I came into the lounge to watch TV. Jean was sitting in the back of the room in the sofa chair by herself. Initially I started to sit on the floor; but Jean winked at me, and I changed my mind.

While I watched her, Jean smiled and stuck one of her fingers deep into her mouth, pulled it out with saliva all over it--and then put her finger in front of her lips and made a loud "shhhhhhhhhhhh" sound.

Others in the room thought she was telling me to be quiet, but we knew otherwise.

I squeezed into the sofa with Aunt Jean. I loved her hands on me. One of her hands rested on my thigh. She squeezed my knee and slowly brought her hand up my thigh and under my nightshirt. Not soon enough, her hand found the mound of my pussy.

I looked at Jean and started to say how much I liked what she was doing. But with her other hand, she brought her finger up to her mouth, smiled and went "shhhhhhh." I turned my head back toward the TV—but my mind's eyes were focused on my aunt's fingers pressing through my panties and onto my pussy's lips. I didn't like it that her fingers were not entering my pussy. I pushed against her fingers: I wanted them in me.

I pulled away from Jean, got out of the sofa chair and said out loud that I had to go to the bathroom. I left the room. In the bathroom, I took a pee, of course; but I also prepared myself for more of Jeanie's love- making. With my mother's hand lotion, I lubricated the mound and lips of my pussy…and I stuck a lubricated finger into my ass—first one finger, then two, for I knew Jean's fingers—and especially her thumb—were much bigger than mine. I washed my hands, tossed my panties in the laundry hamper, pulled my nightshirt down and returned to the lounge.

I crawled into Aunt Jean's lap and, loudly so others could hear me, put my finger to my lips and went "shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh."

She and I both smiled at each other. She hugged me and quietly kissed me in the nape of my neck--twice. The first kiss was soft and sensual, and I could feel her wet tongue on my neck. The second kiss was like a nibble, like she wanted to bite me--and it made me shudder.

Soon enough, Jeanie discovered I was not wearing panties. She inserted one of her fingers into my pussy, pulled it out and then—slowly, and deliciously--placed the tip of it on her lips. I thought she was going to give a stage whisper of "shhhhhhhhhhhhh," but instead she licked her finger tip with her tongue, and then stuck the wet finger deep into her mouth. Then she pulled it out and slowly brought it back to my open legs and put it back where she and I wanted it: in my pussy.

I moved on her lap so she had greater access to my pussy…and my little asshole.

As she was fingering me, I felt something almost like pain; it was like a physical challenge to accept the fingers into my body, but it felt good. I closed my eyes and threw my head back. I certainly was not watching TV. It felt wonderful to be in the arms of my aunt and to feel her hands and fingers all over me. With my eyes closed, I grabbed Jeanie's hand and pushed it harder into me. I wanted her fingers deep, deep inside me. She knew what I wanted and pushed harder into me.

Then I felt her other hand cup my butt cheek and one of her fingers began to explore my asshole. Then her finger slipped into my ass. I opened my eyes and looked at Jean. She had no hands available to signal me to be quiet. She looked me deep in my eyes. I was having trouble keeping quite: I wanted to shout for joy. I was having so much fun; it felt so good. I lost my gaze with Jean as my eyes rolled back, and I began to moan.

Without turning to look at me, Mother said "be quiet, Polly, or you'll have to go to your room." Jean looked at me and made a loud "shhhhhhhhhhhhh" sounds with just her lips--because both of her hands were busy finger- fucking me.

Gently Jean pulled her fingers from inside me. With her hands on my hips she repositioned me on her lap. She then took one of my hands and pulled it behind my back and placed it between her legs, so I could feel the mound of her pussy beneath her blue jeans. I knew what to do. My fingers probed as best they could the lips of her pussy.

Without looking back at us, Mother said, "Sister Dear, may I ask you two noisy folks to make us a pot of tea and some cookies."

Jean said, "Sure. Hop up, Polly."

We slowly disengaged ourselves from the sofa chair. We winked at each other and both made the "shhhhhhh" sign to everyone in the room as we left the room.

In the kitchen, Jean lifted me up and placed me on the edge of the kitchen table. I lay back on the table, pulled my nightshirt up and slowly spread my legs.

Jean walked up to me and did two things at once: she kissed me on the lips like a passionate lover—hard, her tongue pushing into my mouth, with my tongue meeting hers in exploration. With one hand she pulled my head hard into our kiss, and she inserted her fingers into my pussy, curling one of them to press my pussy's hot spot, inside and above my clit.

I loved how she loved me. With one hand I reached up and cupped one of her breasts. I didn't want her to stop… but she did, pulling back and stepping back. She said she needed to fix the tea and cookies.

As she was fixing the tray with tea and cookies, I lay back on the table, pulled my knees up to my chest and, looking through my legs, pursed my lips and loudly went "shhhhhhhhhhh."

Jeanie turned from her tea-making tasks, looked at me with a fake scowl and laughed.

"Shhhhhhh yourself," she said as she prepared to take the tray of tea and cookies back to the lounge.

"Do us a favor: go to your room and wait for me there," she said. "I'll tell everyone you wanted to go to bed now…and that I will go to your room to make sure you're ready for bed. So, go on. I'll come join you in a few minutes."

I happily hopped off the table and went to my bedroom. I turned off all but my tiny bedside lamp. The room was dark and cozy. I took off my nightshirt and climbed into bed. I lay on my back in the nude…waiting.

When Aunt Jean walked into the bedroom, we both looked at each other and gestured "shhhhhh"…but being silly in this way was not what either of us wanted then. As she approached the bed, we looked more seriously at each other, thinking about what was about to happen.

I liked how she looked up and down my body, staring at my legs, my pussy, my stomach, my flat chest and nipples, my face and hair, and finally--and lovingly--my eyes.

She reached out—as I did--and held both my hands. She pulled me up to a sitting position and then lifted me gently into her arms and onto her lap. We sat like this for a long time. I felt very childlike…and loved.

With one hand Jeanie gently turned my head up toward hers and kissed me with moist, open lips—and a felt her tongue enter my mouth. We kissed as lovers, with tongues dipping deep. Her kisses made me feel dizzy. Time stood still.

In this erotic daze, I look one of her hands and pushed it between my legs, begging her to finger me. But instead, she pushed me back onto the bed, on my back, and repositioned herself between my legs and began kissing me all over. I held her head in my hands as she kissed my neck, chest and nipples.

She spread my legs even further apart so she could lean forward, kiss and tongue my pussy. I was in a little girl's heaven: the center of my being was being sucked and tongued by a woman I adored. With one hand, Jean pushed wet fingers into my pussy—first one, then two, three…maybe more. With her other hand, she inserted a finger up my ass and moved it gently in and out. I felt full…and wonderful.

Over and over again she pushed her fingers into me. The sensations from my ass and pussy blended together. My body was alive. My legs jerked. I wanted more. With her arm, she held me down on the bed and continued to finger me. Suddenly all these feelings were too much: my whole body jerked as an electric shock flashed throughout my body. I felt hot all over. My body shuttered.

I started to cry.

Jeanie kissed me and held me gently. "It's okay. I sometimes cry when I have an orgasm: the feelings can be too much sometimes. Just relax. Shhhhh. Enjoy. Don't think you have to do anything. Just lay there. Know that I love you," she said, kissing me tenderly all over my body.

Her kisses and loving words felt wonderful. I closed my eyes.

Eventually I felt Aunt Jean sit up on the edge of the bed. I opened my eyes. She helped me sit up, and then she stood up. She helped me get ready for bed—putting on fresh panties, arranging the bed sheets and quilt. She finished by tucking me back into bed.

Finally, with my nightie pulled down and the sheets and bedspread arranged properly, she kissed me lightly on the lips and started to leave my bedroom.

But I didn't want her to leave. I threw the covers back, sat up in bed and asked her to come back. I put my legs over the edge of the bed, sitting there, waiting for her. She returned and knelt before me, and with a straight back she pulled me forward into a long hug, my head resting between her breasts. She stroked my hair. Then she pushed me back down, tucked my legs back under the covers. Standing, she leaned over me. With her two hands, she gently held my face and kissed me with her moist, warm lips. Slowly she pulled back, kissed me lightly on the lips—and then on my nose--and said, "Now go to sleep."

I felt warm and sleepy. I felt good. I felt loved.

As she was about the leave, Aunt Jean clicked off the bedside lamp and with a finger to her lips went "shhhhhhhhhhh. Sleep warm and happy. I love you."

I smiled in the darkness and went "shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Love you, too. Good night."