A Date with Destiny
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This story contains brief scenes of incest or incest content.
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Last night...how can she describe such a wild and perhaps even magical night? A night of passion. A night of love. Sparks flew between them the moment they touched. And when they kissed, the pair were the only human beings on the planet. Nothing but them existed. Until she had to leave.
Caralyn was her name, Jenni remembered. The single mother fell in love with her beauty first, and her witty intellect second. A tall blonde with long slender legs and small breasts which complemented her athletic frame. She worked as a statistician for a major insurance company. Her dream woman made her laugh with jokes about the office personnel. Her presence at the company party made an otherwise boring night of legal maneuvering bearable. Jenni hadn't laughed so much in so long. Caralyn's hand on her hand, while she mimicked her boss's baritone voice barking orders. Then her hand on Jenni's hip as she shared the latest gossip from her office.
Even now, in her dreams, Jenni could feel Caralyn's hands roaming up and down her body. Despite thirty-eight years of life experience, Jenni never had a relationship with a woman; except her relationship with Mandy, of course, but that was for fun and pleasure. Caralyn's hands felt precise, as if this weren't the first time she touched another woman's body. The sensation of being touched lit a fire of arousal within her. One hand traveled up Jenni's abdomen to the top of her chest. This woman gently caressed Jenni's breasts. It wasn't aggressive like it had been with Chelsea's father. This was a woman's soft touch. A finger caught her left nipple, erect. Was Caralyn really in bed with her?
Jenni turned over to her side, faced in the direction of her dream lover. With her eyes still closed she reached out. A small hand guided her hand. Jenni touched her companion's panties. Then she slid her hand under her bedded lover's panties until her fingertips grazed a soft spot. It wasn't long before Jenni heard a pleasured moan. Her lover reciprocated, toying with Jenni's wet patch. Finally, her eyes opened, and a goofy hungover smile stretched along her lips.
"Good morn..." Jenni's words trailed off. She wasn't in bed with Caralyn.
"Morning, Mom. How did it go last night?" Chelsea asked.
Jenni poured through her memory of the previous night's events. She searched frantically for a clue, a hint, even a fragment of memory to tell herself that she hadn't...had she? Quickly, Jenni realized she was touching her own daughter. She pulled her hand back and pushed Chelsea away.
"W-what are you? Did we? No, we couldn't have," Jenni reassured herself. "Did we-?"
"Have sex?" Chelsea teased. "No, we did not have sex."
"Of course, that would be weird."
"Weird?" Chelsea moved close enough to wrap an arm around her mother's wonderfully curvy body. "It wouldn't be weird at all."
"What are you doing in my bedroom? And in my bed?"
"I hadn't seen you all day, Mommy," Chelsea's arm, which was draped over her mother's side, traveled slowly down her waist until she grabbed her mother's plush bottom. Mom wasn't fat by any means, perhaps a little over on the BMI scale, but not by much. She possessed all the right meat in all the most delicious places. While her bust was less than impressive, barely a cup-size larger than Chelsea's, her juicy ass and thick thighs made up for it entirely. Chelsea's fingers slipped under the seam at the bottom of her mother's panties and three of her fingers found Jenni's crack. "I missed you very much."
"I-I missed..." Jenni tried to fight her desire. She was aroused by her daughter. Her beautiful daughter. The woman's heart beat faster as she imagined where this may go. Should she...touch her? Could she touch her?
"I just want to feel close to you, Mommy," Chelsea moved up on one elbow, allowing her other hand to continue exploring, and she looked down into her mother's baby blue eyes. "Would it help you feel closer to me if you..." Chelsea grabbed her mother's hand and placed it between her legs. "Touch me."
"You're very-"
"Wet?" Chelsea giggled as her index finger found her mother's folds. "So are you."
Jenni pushed her daughter away and rolled to the other side of the bed. She had to get out. "We can't, Chelsea. We can't do this."
"You and Auntie did."
"I know, baby. Auntie and I do a lot of things, but," Jenni said, slipping on a pair of pants. "That's different."
"How is it different?"
"It's different because I say it's different," Jenni threw on a loose shirt. The sweatpants and loose-fitted top were the clothes she wore before she had a chance to shower; she'd never leave home in this drab outfit. "Your aunt was there for me when I needed someone most, when most of my friends had already abandoned me."
"I wouldn't," Chelsea swung her legs off the side of the bed.
She looked at her daughter, a roll of black hair stopped at the middle of her back. Her father's dark hair, no doubt. Jenni and Mandy were natural brunettes, but Jenni often dyed her hair black. She wouldn't dye it anymore, because any reminder of her ex-husband pained her. Chelsea, though, was a constant reminder of the beautiful relationship they once had. Her pure alabaster skin was from Jenni's side of the family; all except Mandy and their father.
Jenni walked over to the other side of the bed and placed a hand on Chelsea's shoulder. For a moment she stood there, not sure what to do. It was wrong, what Chelsea did, wasn't it? It did feel good; great in fact, before she saw her daughter's eyes looking back at her. It was still wrong.
"Chel, you have to leave now. I would like you to think about this..." Jenni didn't know what to say next. Think about this? In what context, she wondered. "I just want you to understand that you and I could never-"
"Fine," Chelsea stood, "I think we could've had fun, even if we did nothing except touch each other. But, if you don't want to play with me, then I'll leave." She stormed out of the room the moment her voice began to crack.
Jenni sat on the bed, defeated, and questioned herself as to whether or not she did the right thing. Regardless, the encounter did arouse her. She looked down at her hand, the one that touched Chelsea's soaking wet snatch, and she brought the hand up to her lips. Her fingers, still wet with Chelsea's lubricant, brought with it an intoxicating scent that begged to be kissed, licked, even...before Jenni's mind could deviate farther she lied back in bed; one hand to her lips, the other between her legs.
Beyond the wooden door, rested against the wall, Chelsea heard every moan and groan. She smiled, knowing her mother was thinking about her while she masturbated. Chelsea believed it wouldn't be long before it was her hand between her mother's legs.
"Soon enough, Mommy, you'll be all mine."
- - -
This would be her first time meeting Destiny, formally, and Chelsea wanted to be sure she was ready. A little eye shadow, a darker shade of blue to make her eyes pop. A little lipstick, Lovestruck Red; a subtle shade without overdoing it. That new shampoo did wonders for her hair, Chelsea flipped and tussled and twirled her hair in the mirror, not a split end or frizziness to be found. Her outfit, however, was giving her trouble.
"Casual? A red T-shirt, to match my lipstick, and a pair of jeans, lightly faded. Or sensual? This low-cut blue top, which goes with my eyes, and a black skirt."
"Personally, the low-cut-"
"I knew you'd like this one," Chelsea laughed. "Now go, before Mom sees you."
"Oh? Do you think she would have a problem with me standing here," Mandy placed her hands on Chelsea's bare hips, "with her naked daughter?"
"You're terrible," Chelsea laughed. "Seriously, she would be pissed if she knew-"
The doorbell rang before the teen
finished
her sentence. Mandy gave her niece a kiss on the top of her head and hurried to the front door. Chelsea's eyes never left the mirror. She swung her torso, admiring her petite breasts; while at the same time wishing they were a little bigger. Would they get any bigger? At eighteen years of age, they would have time to grow more...wouldn't they? With her hands she lifted and dropped and they jiggled much to her satisfaction. Still, they could be bigger.
"Chelsea, there's someone here I'd like you to meet," Aunt Mandy yelled from the living room.
"I hope she likes me," Chelsea said to her reflection.
It was time. Chelsea slipped a pair of pink cotton panties over her bare waist, then the low-cut top over her naked chest. Lastly, she snapped the buttons of the skirt and she was dressed to go. One last look in the mirror. One last twirl. One last smile. A deep breath to calm her nerves. This wasn't an instance of meeting someone new naturally. Chelsea's intentions would be made clear the moment Destiny saw her; if not, by the time they sat on the couch and Chelsea's short skirt revealed her cute panties. Who could resist those? That was the one thing which made this moment all the more nerve-racking. She intended to meet this young lady, seduce her, and have sex.
"Destiny," Mandy gave her client a hug, "I'm so glad you could make it."
"Thanks. It's nice to see you again. After last time I thought-"
"Oh, forget about that. I want to give you some good news. I put your name in for the latest Willie Harrison movie and it looks like you have your first audition."
"Seriously? Thank you so much!" Destiny jumped for joy, literally, before she realized there may be implications for such a high-profile position. "He's not like..."
"Me? No, he's a great person and he won't take advantage of you," Mandy replied. Chelsea walked into the living room looking as adorable as possible. "By the way, I'd like you to meet my niece. Sweetheart, this is Destiny."
"Hi, I'm Chelsea," She said meekly like a nervous schoolgirl.
Destiny extended a hand to greet her. Mandy nodded to her niece, suggesting she go a little further than a handshake. A hug or a kiss? A kiss would be too obvious and setting the tone this early might push Destiny away. A hug then? Too much enthusiasm would make her appear over-anxious and perhaps desperate; she never wanted to seem desperate. The handshake and half-hug is a typical guy move, Chelsea wasn't a tomboy, so she could never pull that off. How long was she standing there?
