The Mother Tracie Deserves Ch 29

AFTERGLOW

When I could breathe again, I was in a daze, the giddy bliss of orgasm still swirling through my veins, my heart still thumping. I hardly knew where I was. But then my eyes focused on the most precious sight imaginable: my beautiful stepdaughter, laying naked beneath me, my cock still deep inside her.

Her eyes closed, she gently pushed down on my hips. She was so sensitive now, she flinched as I slowly slid the veiny dildo out of her.

I laid down beside her, both of us breathing hard. We sounded like we had just finished either laughing or sobbing together, as if neither of us was sure what had just happened.

Tracie's hand found mine and we interlaced fingers. To see her long, smooth physique stretched out next to me was still unbelievable, and intoxicating.

I wanted to feel her more. I draped my arm and leg over her perfect body. She snuggled closer to me, breathing heavily on my skin.

The strap-on was annoying now, sticking between us uncomfortably. I fiddled with the harness buckles, panting and muttering, "How do you get this darn thing off?"

With effort, Tracie sat up and helped me loosen the contraption. I lifted my hips and she pulled it down, off my legs. She tossed the whole thing aside, shiny-wet cock, straps, and all. The dildo thumped to the bedroom carpet near her colorful, wide-eyed stuffed animals.

I said, "Oh my gosh, these too, please." I again lifted my hips and hooked the side of my panties with my thumb. Tracie was still catching her breath, but her eyes brightened as if I'd just given her a gift. She took hold of my panties and peeled them down my legs. Once off, she held them up.

She said breathlessly, "Wow, Mom, they're so wet."

I gave an out-of-breath laugh. "Well that's your fault, you little stinker."

She turned my panties side to side, looking at them, taking a deep breath. "That can't all be me; they're soaked."

It's funny, I felt no trace of embarrassment as my girl inspected my sodden panties. In fact, I was kind of excited and proud. I said, "Baby, I don't think I've ever gotten so wet before."

This sparked her reaction of delighted surprise. She said, "Really?"

I bit my lip and nodded yes.

"Oh, Mom!" Tracie tossed my panties to the floor and returned to me.

I embraced my daughter again, both of us still catching our breath. Our warm breasts heaved together as our our lungs gradually relaxed. My sweet baby girl wrapped her limbs around me. We lay naked on her bed, now with nothing at all between us - not a dildo, not a stitch of clothing, not an inch of distance. We were both spent, and a bit stunned.

Tracie clung to me like a frightened child, and I held her like I would never let her go.

What had just happened between us was beyond reality, beyond any dream. As her stepmother, I had always loved this girl with my whole heart. But now, my heart thumped with love - and desire - deeper than I knew was possible.

We rested there, cuddling - something we'd done many times since she was little. The difference now was that we were naked, and still recovering from our shared orgasm.

Finally, Tracie squeezed me and hummed a long sigh of satisfaction. I agreed, "Mm-hmm," and hugged her even closer to me.

I was the first to speak into that quiet bliss. I whispered, "What are we now, Tracie?"

"Shh," she said. "We're just happy."

I burbled a little cry for joy, knowing - or at least, hoping - she was right. I didn't understand it all. But I knew I felt an intimacy - and yes, a happiness - beyond anything I'd ever experienced.

My miraculous stepdaughter lifted her head and we gazed into each other's eyes. A wave of emotion and memories rose in me.

"What are you thinking about right now, Mom?"

I sighed, smiling. "Those eyes of yours. The best times of my life have always been when those eyes have looked at me."

"Tell me," she said. We spoke softly, as if we should have been sleeping - which was probably true, though I couldn't even guess at the time.

"Well," I said, stroking my daughter's hair. "When I first became your mom - gosh, it doesn't seem that long ago - the top of your head was just up to my bottom rib, and it was the cutest thing in the world when you'd look up at me, especially when you gave me

the big eyes."

"What big eyes?" she said.

"You know exactly what big eyes. Those big puppy-dog eyes when you want something. You'd come in the kitchen and give me the big eyes when you wanted a sugary treat. You knew I couldn't resist."

Tracie giggled.

As I went on, I gently traced my finger around her pretty face. "And when you had grown as high as my shoulder, you'd come with these beautiful eyes, looking to me for money and permission to go off with your friends on a bike ride to the store."

She said, "Was I always asking you for something?"

"Of course. I'm your mother. And most things, I was happy to give you. But now, you're a strong, gorgeous young lady. How is my baby already a high school senior?"

We shared a smile, looking deep into each other's eyes. I said, "Right now, I see a girl who isn't asking me for anything except my love. And I'm sorry I made you wait so long for it, baby."

Tracie's kiss was the kiss of an angel. I gave in completely, pressing my lips to hers. Our lips softly released, but only long enough to kiss again, and again. Each kiss was slow, tender, important.

As we continued to kiss, my kitten rolled on top of me. The beauty of the moment was fully matched by the irresistible beauty of Tracie's fantastic teenage body. I stroked her hair, her smooth back, her perfect round butt, feeling her weight on me. Her breasts and belly pressed into mine; our bushes bristled together. Her hand warmed my cheek as her lips loved my lips.

I chuckled.

Tracie said, "What?"

I touched a finger to her lip. "I just thought how this mouth of yours has given me so much backtalk over the years."

She laughed. "I can't promise it never will again. But now it just wants to give you this." Her delicious mouth covered mine once more.

I lost myself in our luxurious kissing. I held my daughter to me while our lips and tongues danced, celebrating our new closeness.

"I love you so much, Mom."

If you're a parent, you know: you can never hear that enough from a child, especially when they really mean it. It brought happy tears to my eyes. "I love you too, Tracie. More than anything. More than ever."

"More than just as my mom?"

I looked in those eyes and nodded. "Yes. So much more."

My stepdaughter's smile was like a beam of sunshine, her giggle like the music of songbirds. She whispered excitedly, "Can we get under the covers together?"

"Of course, baby."

We pulled back Tracie's sheets and got in.

I said, "Mmm, your bed smells good."

She said, "I put fresh sheets on today. I even sprayed a little perfume on them. I was hoping we'd end up in here."

"After all the years I had to nag you about making your bed."

We shared a laugh, nestling together. It still amazed me to feel our skin touch. Our bodies calmed. Soon, Tracie was asleep.

I noticed through the window curtains that it was completely dark outside. The music from Tracie's phone had stopped at some point. Perhaps her battery ran out. The room was silent, except for my stepdaughter's contented breathing and my heartbeat.

Gone forever was the possibility of Tracie and I having a normal mother-daughter relationship.

I laid awake, watching the golden candle light moving on the ceiling. I tried to extend the bliss, before the questions and doubts trickled back in.

~ * ~

AFTERMATH

I woke from a deeply upsetting dream, my heart pounding.

Trying not to wake Tracie, I extricated myself from her and sat up on the edge of the bed, taking deep breaths to calm down from my nightmare. I shook my head at the fact that I was naked, all my clothes strewn around on my stepdaughter's bedroom floor.

In the dim candle glow, I looked down at my teenage sleeping beauty, her hair messy around her angelic face. It was impossible not to love her. I gingerly tucked the bedcovers around my girl, and for good measure, I took a stuffed animal from the top of her stack of lovies.

It was Mr. Chompers, her T. rex. I always liked that in addition to her cute, big-eyed lovies like the kitten, puppy, and baby monkey dolls, Tracie always had a place in her heart for some fierce creatures, too. I remembered buying the T. rex in the gift shop of a science museum. Those museum shops are notoriously expensive, but Tracie had looked up at me her big, pleading eyes. She was eight years old then, and the whole drive home, every time I looked in the rear-view mirror, I saw her in the back seat hugging and playing with her newly-named Mr. Chompers, counting his triangular teeth.

I gently placed him on the pillow next to her.

Without moving or opening her eyes, Tracie mumbled, "Where are you going?"

"Oh, um, I'm just going to use the bathroom. You rest, honey."

Still half asleep, she said, "And then you're coming back?"

"Shh, now," I said. "You rest."

As I walked down the hall, I found myself covering my privates. Closing the bathroom door behind me, I finally allowed myself to release the feelings I didn't want Tracie to see. I closed the toilet seat lid and sat, covering my face with my hands. I sobbed.

After my crying fit, I stood up to look at myself in the bathroom mirror. I flicked on the bright light, revealing myself, naked - literally and emotionally. I looked at my face, recognizing what had always been there, but also seeing the aging. So much life had gone by since I was young like Tracie. I was a middle-aged woman, but so often, I still felt like a confused and frightened child.

I summoned my inner strength and swore to my reflection, "No matter what she says, I will do what's right."

The door creaked open, startling me. There stood my daughter, rubbing her sleepy eye and holding Mr. Chompers to her nude body. "Mom? What were you saying?"

"Just talking to myself, honey. Do you need to use the bathroom?"

"No. I'm wondering what you're doing in here."

"I'm just freshening up, angel. You can go back to bed."

She stepped up to stand at my shoulder, looking at me in the mirror. She said, "It sounded like something was wrong. I'm scared about what you're thinking."

"What? Why scared, baby?"

"Because I know you, Mom. You're having second thoughts, aren't you?"

"Oh, Tracie, come here." I took her in a hug, flashing back to other times, years in the past, when little Tracie would come to me in the night like this, clutching a stuffed animal, having had a nightmare of her own. Or, if not a nightmare, she was worried about something; often, she had overheard her father and I arguing after her bedtime.

She said, "So you

are

having second thoughts."

"Hold on, honey, slow down." I sat again on the closed toilet seat, and took my sweet stepdaughter's hand in both of mine. She stood in front of me, her other arm clutching Mr. Chompers to her. She was hiding her lips in the fabric of his plush head.

I looked up at her said, "I had a very intense dream, and I had to come in here to think about it."

"What was it?"

"It was just a nightmare, honey. I don't want you to worry about it."

"I am worried about it, Mom. Your nightmare was about being with me, wasn't it?"

My jaw dropped before I could hide my reaction. Could this girl read my mind? It still amazed me sometimes how well she knew me. I could feel her hand start to tremble in mine.

"Baby," I said. "Please don't take it so hard. It's not-"

"Mom, what is it? What was your nightmare?"

Despite Tracie's strong, beautiful, grown body standing before me, she was as naked as I was, and as vulnerable as a frightened child. I took a deep breath, trying to decide how much I could tell her. I said, "I... I was back in one of the apartments that I lived in with my mother. In the dream, I wasn't the age I was then - your age - but my age now. I was in my room and I heard her angry voice barking my name from down the hall, in that nasty way I heard so many times in those years. I walked down the hall toward her." I cleared my throat, trying to be clinical, but feeling the emotions. I went on, "I was feeling the same old fear that I did back then. There she was, sitting in her chair like she often did, smoking her menthol cigarette, with her rocks glass mostly empty. She had that familiar, ugly drunk face on, and I could tell I was in for one of her angry harangues."

Tracie was intently focused on me. She asked, "What did she say?"

"Oh, honey, it doesn't matter. My mom was a broken person and a drunk, but she was smart. She had a way of targeting exactly your weakest points."

"Mom, it obviously does matter. I heard you crying in here. You have to tell me. Please don't hide this from me. I can take it."

I watched my daughter's earnest eyes. But she wasn't just my daughter anymore. She was my best friend, my closest confidante; she had become my lover. But it was still my job as her mother to protect her. But what was the right way to do that?

I calmed myself with a breath, feeling the cool toilet seat lid under my bare butt, Tracie's warm hand in mine, and the charge in the air.

In that middle-of-the-night, emotionally-raw moment, I spoke as carefully as I could. I said, "Somehow, in the dream, my mother knew about you and me, and what we've been doing. She was yelling at me, saying, 'Lorraine! What the hell is wrong with you? Are you out of your goddamned mind?' and all kinds of mean stuff like that."

"Tell me what she said," Tracie pleaded.

"No. I will tell you some, but I'm not going to put her vicious words into your ears, Tracie. Those stop with me..." Even as I tried to be the strong bulwark between my mother's cruelty and my loving stepdaughter, the memory of my mother's words - both in the dream, and the many real memories on which the nightmare was based - started a shiver of anxiety and sadness in me. I could hear verbatim her attacks from the dream:

You're sick, you know that, Lorraine? Sick! You make me want to puke. You took that man's poor, innocent little girl and you made her a lesbian slut!

I sucked in a deep breath and tried to stop myself from crying. What I said to Tracie, who needed and deserved to know, was, "My mom said angry, mean things to me, that I corrupted you."

Tracie gasped and defended me, "Oh my god, Mom, that's not it at all! You don't think that, do you?"

I wiped a tear away and said, "This was just in my dream, honey."

"Yeah, but you wouldn't have dreamed that if you didn't think-"

"Tracie, darling, yes, that's a fear I've had. But just listen to me..." I saw her emotional eyes needing to know more. I tried to be strong, and breathed to calm myself. I said, "In real life, I was never good at standing up to my mother. But in the dream... she called you a bad name."

As Tracie started to ask what name, I shook my head no. I said, "It doesn't matter, angel. I told my mom, 'Don't you dare call Tracie names like that! She's a good, sweet girl. She's amazing, Mom, and I love her! And I'm in love with her!'"

Tracie smiled over Mr. Chomper's head, and I took a moment to marvel at her physical perfection. But I had more nightmare to tell. I said, "My mother laughed at me. She could have the meanest laugh." I wanted to tell Tracie the truth, and the dream was still very clear in my mind. As I continued, I tried to soften the harshest parts with a quiet voice - and in fact, as I grew more shaky with emotion, a quiet voice was all I could manage. "She said to me, 'You're in love with your own daughter? A teenage girl? You must have brain damage! You've ruined that girl's life. Look at you! Old, drunk, losing your looks - you're pathetic. Now you're trying to suck the life out of some young girl, defiling her, destroying her chances in life! If I were you, I'd kill myself.'"

Tracie's face went pale as she listened. "Mom..."

My heart was pounding again as I revisited the dream - and the memory of my worst times with my mother. I told Tracie, "Don't worry, honey. I'm not going to kill myself. That was the way my mother talked to me sometimes, in the bad days."

"Oh my god." Still holding my hand, Tracie knelt on the bathroom floor before me. She said, "You didn't defile me, Mom. You resisted me. I wanted this. I blackmailed you into it."

"Only up to a point," I said, a smile emerging through my nightmare feelings. I looked at our hands together, comparing the age of mine to the youth of hers. How did I ever deserve this young goddess kneeling at my feet, her heart so full of love for me? I said, "Starting tonight, it was my choice."

Tracie squeezed my hand and kissed it. She looked up at me with beaming happiness. Then, her kind concern returned to her face. "What else was in your dream?"

I sighed, "Oh, she went on that people will know, that it will be the scandal of the century, that she will tell reporters she always knew something was wrong with me, and that she couldn't wait until your father found out. And she especially couldn't wait until you dumped me."

"I'm not going to dump you, Mom."

I smiled at my girl's pure-hearted love. I said, "Even if you did, honey, that would be okay. You're probably going to meet someone your own age someday, and then you won't want me like tonight anymore."

"No, Mom, don't say that."

"Let me tell you the rest of my dream. My mother was shoving questions and fears in my face in the cruelest way, like she used to do. After she said all these nasty things, she reached down next to her chair and picked up the bottle hidden there to refill her glass - something I saw her do hundreds of times in the later years." My voice grew shaky. "And the bottle was the same vodka I was drinking a year ago." I bent over and cried.

Tracie put her arms around me and rested her head on mine. "It's okay, Mom. Please don't cry."

But I did. This wasn't about Tracie. This was about me and my mother.

"Mom," Tracie whimpered. She was starting to cry too. I had to tell her the rest.

"Hold on, baby." I unspooled some toilet paper and wiped my face. "Listen," I said.

My heart's reaction to Tracie's weeping face only solidified what I learned from my dream. "Tracie, do you know what happened next?"

"What?" Her lip was trembling.

I blotted the tears on her sweet, innocent face and said, with a little bit of pride, "I grabbed the vodka bottle out of my mother's hand and I threw it as hard as I could, and it smashed against the wall in a huge, glassy explosion - like a crystal firework going off. And I yelled, 'Unlike you, Mom, I got sober! And I'm going to get help so I can stay sober!'"

The bright smile that lit up my stepdaughter's face was priceless. She said, "Do you mean it?"

"Yes."

"I think therapy would be so good for you, Mom."

I nodded. "I'm going to do whatever it takes."

"That makes me so happy. To be honest, that's what scared me most about getting rid of the blackmail - that you might start drinking again."

"Oh, angel. I'm so sorry I put you through that. I swear I'm never going to do that to you again." I pulled Tracie to me in another hug, clinging to her smooth, bare back. "Never, Tracie."

And then I thought about the hardest part of the dream. "After I smashed the bottle, my mother said to me, 'So you're sober. Big deal.' And more mean things..." They echoed in my mind, but I didn't want to tell my daughter.

"Mom, please just tell me. I guarantee whatever she said isn't as bad as things I've worried about, or will start worrying about."

I knew she meant it. I bit my lip, and decided to respect the intelligence and strength of my stepdaughter. Now was the time to put everything on the table. I said, "She told me, 'So you're sober. You're also a feckless coward, Lorraine.'" I couldn't look at Tracie as I went on. I looked at our holding hands. My thumb stroked her knuckles as I told her, in a weak voice, what my nightmare mother told me. "She said, 'You'll abandon that girl's love, Lorraine. You'll get too scared of being found out, scared of ruining both your reputations, scared of how people will look at you when they know." A tear fell from my face to the back of my hand. I went on with my mother's scolding. "'You'll run, Lorraine. You couldn't even keep a normal marriage together. You're too weak to really love anyone.'"