Jennifer Loves Becky

It had been eight months since Jennifer quit her job in Minneapolis and moved to Paris to become a dancer. And during those eight months, she'd questioned her decision more than once. She had a great job in Minneapolis, and while economic analysis could be dry, the pay was good and the career path was promising. Now she was living on a shoestring in Paris. What made the whole situation even more iffy was her age. Jennifer was soon going to turn 35. Still young for life, but practically ancient by dance standards. Sometimes she wondered whether the move had all been nothing more than a last desperate attempt to stave off responsibility a while longer. Sometimes she feared her fellow dancers looked at her as a little sad and pathetic.

Those were the thoughts in her head. But in reality, Jennifer had a lot going for her. She had the kind of lithe, athletic body any prospective dancer would die for, and her face was an angel's, topped by naturally wavy honey-colored hair. She had the gifts. But everyday she worried whether she'd let them go unused for too long.

Her personal life didn't allay her anxiety. Since moving to Paris she'd had a couple dates. But they were with men of indistinct Old World heritage who saw in her an older, hotter version of the American backpacker adrift in Europe. Somehow, getting groped by a drunken date on the Paris subway was not her idea of romance. Too bad , really, because now more than ever, Jennifer craved companionship. Instead, she spent most nights in her little flat, drinking tea and studying French.

That's why she was so excited when she heard Becky was coming to Paris for the summer. Many years earlier in Minneapolis, Jennifer used to babysit Becky and her older sister. Jennifer grew to really love the girls. Maybe Jennifer was especially open to that kind of love because she never had a loving family of her own. Her father died when she was young, and her mother and stepfather were materialistic and self-absorbed. Sometimes, all those many years ago, it seemed like Becky and her sister were the only real family Jennifer had. For all these reasons, Jennifer walked around Paris with new energy in the weeks awaiting Becky's arrival.

The day finally came for Jennifer to meet Becky at Orly airport. She was nervous. After all, it'd 10 years since she'd last seen Becky. What would she look like? Would she think I'm old? Would she no longer worship me like she used to when she a little kid and I was her loving care giver? All these thoughts ran through her mind as she waited for Becky's face to emerge from the sea of travelers. The worries vanished, though, when Becky appeared. Young and fresh and beautiful, the 18 year-old ran into Jennifer's arms, holding her tight, kissing her cheeks and forehead. The girl's natural and unrestrained affection felt like rain to Jennifer's parched soul.

Becky's first week in Jennifer's little apartment was like heaven for Jennifer. During the day, Jennifer would go to her dance classes with renewed hope. In the evening, she'd come home to the apartment and she and Becky would make dinner and go for a walk around the Montmartre neighborhood. Jennifer's only concern was making sure Becky enjoyed her summer in Paris. After all, Becky's parents had entrusted their young daughter to Jennifer not just to safeguard, but also to expand Becky's life experiences. So while Jennifer worried some about making sure Becky was exposed to Paris life, her concerns in that regard were lessened by Becky's easygoing personality. It seemed all Becky wanted to do was spend time with Jennifer, going for walks, holding hands in the park, cooking meals. In short, just being together. This made Jennifer's life easier, since money was tight. Even better, it suited Jennifer perfectly. After quitting her old life and moving to France, Jennifer's life had been a chaotic mess. The happy domesticity she shared with Becky was just what she needed.

As the weeks passed, Jennifer found her old love for Becky growing. Sure, some of the maternal instincts she'd experienced years earlier with Becky and her sister still existed. But now, Jennifer's feelings were more complicated. Becky had grown up. She was a beauty with long thin legs, beautifully-shaped breasts and a neck that begged to be stroked and kissed. Jennifer's awareness of Becky's charms coincided with other developments in Jennifer's life. For the past several years, Jennifer found herself increasingly attracted to women.

Before she left Minneapolis, she had a lusty fling with a female co-worker at American Express Combined with the knowledge that she'd soon be quitting her job and country, Jennifer's sexual antics had become brazen back home. She and Amelia would slip into the bathroom at work for quick make out sessions, some of which Jennifer left with the taste of Amelia on her fingers and tongue. On summer evenings, Jennifer and Amelia would find isolated hideouts in the park around Lake of the Isles, and grope each other. During those sessions, Jennifer was shocked to discover how responsive she was to Amelia's tongue on her throat. How excited she became when Amelia would stick her thin little hand down Jennifer's jeans to tease Jennifer's sex. In the weeks before Jennifer left Minneapolis, the girls' lust had become such that they'd go to late-night movies at Uptown Theater, where they'd slip into the dark back rows of the balcony and finger each other's pussies while the patrons around them sat oblivious to their lust.

For all the fun she'd had fucking Amelia, Jennifer actually had thought about her hardly at all since moving to Paris. Instead, she found scores of French beauties to whet her appetite. Jennifer loved French women. Their thin, graceful bodies. Their sense of style. Their unabashed sexuality. Especially the dancers she studied with during the day. Watching these young French pixies dance made Jennifer wet. At night, she'd go to bed dreaming of a little French tart to eat.

So this is where Jennifer was at as she found herself falling more deeply in love with Becky. Becky's graceful little body, her blonde hair, her infectious smile were all to Jennifer's liking. And at night, as they slept naked, curled up together in Jennifer's humble flat (a practice they fell into without discussion), Jennifer feared, and yet fantasized, where this all might lead. The was same the little girl Jennifer had taken care of as a child. The same little girl who'd followed Jennifer around Minneapolis like a sweet little puppy. Now here she was in Paris, naked in Jennifer's bed, craving Jennifer's love.

As the weeks passed, Jennifer felt her lust for Becky grow to dangerous levels. Becky's body occupied Jennifer's every waking thought. She couldn't get the images of Becky's graceful shoulders, her cute ass, and her blonde pussy out of her head. At night, Jennifer found herself utterly incapable of keeping her hands off Becky, even if it just meant walking up behind her in the kitchen and putting a loving arm around Becky, letting her hand playfully lift up Becky's tee-shirt to caress Becky's flat little tummy. Once, when Jennifer was running her fingertips in circles near Becky's belly button, she felt the girl lean back into her, tossing her head to one side as if to offer her young body to her former nanny.

That night, a thunderstorm lit Paris, but inside Jennifer's fourth floor flat, it was intimate. As always, the girls were in bed, their tight thin bodies intertwined like lovers. After another evening of playing with Becky's tummy as they lied on the couch together, Jennifer found herself staring at Becky's young body. And even though it was dark in the bedroom, the frequent lightening bursts gave Jennifer a steady stream of images. Becky had snuggled up to Jennifer, her legs straddling Jennifer's own taut, pale left thigh. Tonight, Jennifer's restraint finally yielded, as she found her hands slowly, but hungrily, stroking Becky. First the girl's back, then lower, steadily lower, until Jennifer was playing with Becky's ass. Stroking it, kneading it. Gently at first, then longingly, demandingly. Jennifer was nervous! What if Becky woke up and realized what Jennifer was doing to her body? Would she panic, leave Paris tomorrow and tell her parents Jennifer was never to be trusted again? The stakes were high. The danger added to Jennifer's lust.

Slowly, Becky's body reacted to Jennifer's touches. Becky's legs wrapped themselves around Jennifer's, who felt the girl's wet pussy seeking more and more contact. Even better, Becky raised her head and began gently licking and kissing Jennifer's neck, her pink little tongue leaving a wet trail under Jennifer's chin. It was too much for Jennifer. She rolled Becky onto her back and plunged her tongue deep into the girl's open mouth. For the next thirty minutes, they were speechless as Jennifer did the things she'd been dreaming of doing to Becky. She kissed her beautiful neck, she worked her way down to the girl's breasts and put first one, then the other breast into her mouth. Her fingers teased the girl's inner thighs. Soon, they embraced in the most passionate, erotic, searching kiss Jennifer had ever experienced. This was more than lust. More than passion. It was love, long frustrated, now released.

As the kiss broke, Becky whispered into Jennifer's ear, "Please do whatever you want to me, Jennifer. I've thought about kissing you and touching you ever since I was a little girl. Kiss me. Lick me. Fuck me. Use me. It's what I want!"

The seriousness in the girl's voice frightened Jennifer, but also turned her on incredibly. This was more than a fling. More than just getting herself off with Amelia. This touched on something deep. Longing. Love. Motherhood. Beauty. Sex. These things and more wracked Jennifer's beautiful blonde head as she found her tongue working down Becky's tummy to the wet little blonde pussy that had been driving Jennifer crazy for weeks. "Don't worry, sweetie," Jennifer whispered to Becky, "I'll do all those things, and more."

And with that, Jennifer dove into the young girl. No part of Becky's lithe body escaped love from Jennifer's tongue. With her tongue and fingers, Jennifer fucked Becky throughout the thunderstorm. Fucked her pussy. Fucked her mouth. Sweat drenched them both as they panted like athletes at the finish line.

When it over, they slept til noon. As Jennifer awoke, the taste of Becky still on her tongue, she wondered whether it had all really happened. Had she really fucked little Becky's brains out? And if so, what if their relationship was now ruined forever? Troubled, Jennifer quietly crept out of Becky's embrace and went to the kitchen to make coffee. The storm had passed, and Paris was alive with blue sunlight. As she stared at the neighborhood's rooftops, Jennifer heard the light approach of Becky's feet. Well, Jennifer thought, this is it. Bracing for a heartfelt conversation, Jennifer instead felt soft kisses on her neck, kisses that moved down her back until Becky had arranged herself between Jennifer's legs. As she looked down to see Becky's tongue darting in and out of her, love engulfed Jennifer.