The story below is narrated in the 3rd person, referring to a sexually frustrated and lesbian curious mother ("she"/"her"). Curiosity leads to a reluctant oral tryst with a gothic lesbian 18 year old.
Please enjoy.
* * *
Her daughter had entered the final year of schooling. A new phase of life lay ahead. Yes her 2 boys were going to be in high school for a few more years, but the end of this year would bring about a change in the family dynamic, a change in her mothering requirements... more freedom. And, it scared her.
At 47, she was experiencing a wave of suppressed emotions. She had been able to press these feelings down in years gone by. She had made herself busy. She had nurtured, not just the children, but him too. It had gotten tedious. He was boring. She felt disappointed. Was this all?
In December, she had stumbled upon a magazine amongst her daughter's things. Clothing, lipsticks, eyeliners, schoolbooks... and that particular magazine.
At first she had ignored it, almost. Tidied up. Neatened. Cleaned. But a look on the cover page, in the eyes of that picture, had caught her. It said more than the usual sell, "I am happy", or, "Look at me! I am successful", or, "I am better than you." All the stuff that she had absorbed year in year out, in Elle, in Cosmo, and the rest of that overplayed "Don't you wish you were me" set.
No, this look was sultry, self involved, physical. But also, it was inviting. It said, "be a voyeur on my account." It said, "Lust after me." It said, "You are permitted."
She experienced in that moment a thrill she recalled when sitting in his car, at the drive-in, 30 years ago. The smell of his cologne, the smell of the leather, and the smell of his cock – her first. She
had
been alive. She
had
been wet. Life
had
been full of newness, and innocence, and promise.
She looked at the magazine. Opened it up, paged through. Pictures of women embracing. Disrobing. Touching each other...
there
. She felt heat in her skin. She felt her cheeks flush. She felt her nipples harden, almost painfully at her blouse. Could she be alive again?
* * *
So, this was to be the last sleep over. 10 girls, quite grown up now, but visiting for a sleep over tonight. Just like the old days. A pajama party, frolicking around in undies, swimming, eating popcorn.
But now they were all 18 year olds. Her daughter, who had been the youngest of that group, was now of age. No doubt they would be locking themselves away, playing, chatting, smoking, drinking... well they were young and life was fun, and she wouldn't spoil it – let them be!
He was oblivious anyway. Caught up in his work or his television, or the car he had just bought for their 'little' girl's 18th.
She tried to lay low, not to be seen or heard around the girls. She wanted them to have their fun. But she was curious. Did her daughter's friends have magazines like that one? Did they watch these things on the internet?
She wondered. Was her daughter interested in boys too? It didn't bother her, she remembered her first kiss, and that was with a girl. They had practiced. Nothing came of it. And then she was in college and she met him, and boys became interesting. Well, one boy. The excitement had waned. 30 years will do that.
She locked herself in the bathroom. This was her haven, en-suite, bidet, pearl shaped bath, double shower... she couldn't really fault him. She sat on the loo. She felt the hot piss jet out.
She sat still after. Didn't wipe. Just conjured images. Saw that look. The acts those girls performed in that magazine. Kissing deeply. Licking nipples. And oh, the other things they had gotten up to. Shocking! But it made her wet. She wanted to try it, desperately. To taste another woman. To put her mouth
there
. Oh yes! To lick and to suck and to indulge. Oh dear, and that other ghastly thing!
She sat still. She moved the palm of her hand over her hairy bush. She never trimmed. She felt her way about the lips, fingering gently through the flesh. She mixed her thin and translucent piss all over her cunt. She felt the rush of her sex come forth, the viscosity of her moisture thickening, the smell of her wetness changing. More cunt. Less piss.
She masturbated, conjuring images of those girls, not 20 years old or more. She imagined herself performing those acts, having them performed on her. She felt it rising, but she never came, just brought herself on to a point of goodness, then let it fall slowly, rubbing gently, sighing, opening her eyes.
* * *
In the morning 8 of the girls had gone to the Mall. 2 remained behind, sleeping off last night's party. They hadn't been too noisy, but were probably up until the very early hours.
She decided to check in. See if her daughter was there. Her daughter wasn't. On opening the door to her room, she noticed 2 girls. One, a conservative girl, worked at the library part time. The other, very odd, dressed in gothic black clothing, with studs in her eyebrows and a pin in her tongue. She was sleeping in her boots. Heavens. She wondered how these 2 had been invited in the first place.
Before closing the door she bent down to tidy. She noticed the librarian. A thin sheet covered one leg. The other leg slipped out over the makeshift floor mattress. She caught a glimpse of upper thigh. It excited her. She knew she shouldn't, but she looked more closely. She dragged the sheet down a little, exposing a very full ass.
