Author's Notes:
I'd like to thank my editor, Kirk2004, for his expert editing and advice.
This is a work of fiction created purely by my imagination. Any resemblance to real persons is coincidental. All characters are over 18 years of age. The story contains incest, but only as part of a larger story. I hope you enjoy it. Ratings and comments are always welcome.
*
~ Amy and Dawn ~
Amy arrived at work ten minutes late, she'd been rushing around all day trying to get more in than the day would fit. Her first full day home from college for the summer was busy with the usual errands; shopping for sundries she'd need for her summer stay with Mom, cloths shopping for her summer job, and catching up with her old high school friends.
"You're late for your first day! Chuck's not going to like that," Joan, the barmaid, snapped at Amy as she rushed to put her purse away and set herself up for her first shift at the Black Bear Pub.
"Sorry, it's been a hectic day," Amy apologized.
"You don't need to apologize to me. Just don't let Chuck find ya com-in late is all," Joan said as she remained busy wiping the bar where a customer had just left.
"Yeah, I really need this job. I'm lucky Chuck has the hots for my mom. I called him from school on my 21st birthday, and he hired me on the spot, right there over the phone."
"Damn straight you're lucky. Better get here on time if you're plan-in on keeping it," Joan replied.
The Black Bear Pub was an old log building with a dark green roof, and a large gravel parking lot. It sat just outside of town on narrow mountain road. The knotty pine interior had an ancient varnished glow only time can give wood. A large stuffed black bear greeted customers as they entered the door. A long bar, usually studded with locals, stretched along the back wall and to the left. A moose head reigned over the bar, while a couple of subordinate deer heads flanked the walls over dinning stalls to the right. At the far left end, past the bar, a couple of pool tables lie in wait for the bored and restless. A back room, just past the pool tables, is used for large gatherings; banquets, meetings, and the occasional holiday party.
"Who's the gent at the end of the bar?" Amy asked Joan.
"Don't know. Some professor. He's been com-in here all week. Why don't you go ask him if he's do-in alright down there. This keg just kicked, I gotta get another from the cellar."
Amy saw something she liked in the man at the end of the bar, something she liked for her mother. Her adoptive mother Dawn had not had sex with a man since Amy's father died seven years ago. Amy, for the past four years, ever since she was eighteen, tried to get her mother to date again.
"There's no one I want to date in this town," Dawn would say. "They're all too rough around the edges, and they drink too much."
"Just hook up with someone here on vacation then," Amy would implore her mother many times over the years.
"I'm not going to entertain the idea of a one night stand," her mother would always reply.
Coming from a well bred New England background and living in a small mountain town in the Adirondack Mountains had been an adjustment for young Dawn. She met her husband while attending Mt. Holyoke college; he attended U Mass at Amherst. They married shortly after graduation, and just before Amy's father accepted a civil engineering job in the Adirondacks.
Dawn and her husband tried in vain for two years to get pregnant. After a battery of tests, it turned out Dawn was infertile. They adopted Amy soon afterwards.
When Amy was fourteen years old, her adoptive father passed away. He died on the job. While inspecting work on a bridge, a crane operator dropped a steal beam on his head.
Dawn entered a deep state of mourning. The loss of the love of her life was too much for her to bear. Her grief sucked the life out of her, and put her into a long social hibernation. During the first three years after her husband died, Dawn didn't go out of the house, except to grocery shop. She didn't work or socialize; she was a mess. After three years of intense mourning, she finally took a job as a clerk in the local town hall. Life resumed for Dawn, but she still couldn't bring herself to date anyone.
At 45 years old, Dawn was still a good looking woman. Her reddish brown hair had not grayed yet, and her youthful skin still hung on past its expiration date. All the local single men, and some not so single, hounded her to go out with them. Of the women within easy driving distance of this small Adirondack town, she was by far the most attractive. The local men didn't excite Dawn though, and she used that as an excuse to delay dating again.
Dawn was perpetually in mourning and perpetually horny. She often cried herself to sleep while masturbating. Amy heard her through the thin walls of their modest one story home. Amy heard moans and crying almost every night. She couldn't have known those moans were moans of ecstasy; she thought her mother's moans were moans of mourning. For years, it broke Amy's heart to hear her mother moaning and then crying in her bedroom. She thought her mother would eventually get over the death of her father, so she let her mother be during those nights she heard those sounds emanating from her mother's room.
Finally, she felt she needed to comfort her mother; the moaning had gone on too long, four years too long.
One night, shortly after her eighteenth birthday, when the moans coming from her mom's bedroom were particularly loud, Amy opened her mother's bedroom door and slipped in. Amy worked out a plan in her mind. She would move quickly, before her mother could protest, and slip quickly into bed with her mom to console her.
Her mother left a light on by her bedside table so she could read one of her X-rated romance novels. She used the erotic literature as an aid for masturbation.
When Amy entered the room, she didn't see that her mother was naked, with her legs splayed out wide, and one hand holding the X-rated romance novel. She also didn't see her mother's other hand holding a dildo and shoving it deep into her pussy. Amy focused only on following the plan in her head. She moved quickly from the door to her mother's bed. Her eyes focused on the task at hand, and not on what was really happening on her mother's bed.
Dawn didn't immediately see the door open, and by the time she did see Amy scurrying across the short distance between the door and her bed, she was speechlessly in shock.
Amy slipped onto her mother's bed. She slid up to Dawn's side and wrapped her arms around her.
"It's ok Mom; everything is going to be ok," she said, just as she had rehearsed it in her mind.
After a brief consoling hug, Amy's mind finally focused on the reality in her mother's bed.
"Mother! What are you doing? What...What...Jesus Mom...What The Fuck!" Amy cried in disbelief. She pulled back from the hug, but she remained on the bed.
It's not that Amy was a prude. As a lesbian and someone who masturbated often herself, she was well aware of what her mother was doing, once the image of it reached its way through all the preconceived images in her mind, those images of her mother moaning in mourning all these years.
Dawn, not one for hysterics, remained as she was, the X-rated romance novel in one hand, and her dildo in her other hand shoved deep in her pussy.
"I've always given you the privacy you deserve, Amy especially when you have Lisa over. Don't you think I don't know what goes on in your room!" Dawn said, continuing to pretend to read her book.
"Yes, Mom. I'm sorry. I should not have come in without knocking. I just thought you were always moaning and crying for Dad in here. I wanted to comfort you."
"Well, you're partly correct. As for the rest, a woman has her needs. I'm not doing anything you yourself haven't done."
"You're right, Mom, I'm sorry, it's just that you're my mother..."
"Your adoptive mother," Dawn interjected. She recently developed a habit of adding the adoptive adjective. Amy found her biological mother through a reunion registry, and while Dawn supported the contact, it did make her feel a little less special.
Amy decided her mother still needed consoling, but now that the light of reality had shown the moans for what they were, a different flavor of consoling crossed Amy's mind. She moved closer so that their bodies were touching. Amy moved her left hand to Dawn's left breast and started caressing her.
"Continue Mom, it's ok. I'm here for you."
Dawn, reluctant at first, continued to masturbate while Amy massaged her breasts and snuggled her head against her adoptive mother's neck. It comforted Dawn to have another human being touching her during sex, even if it was sex with herself. Dawn longed for that human touch. However, out of some sense of moral obligation to her dead husband, or simply the fear of starting a relationship with someone new, she made one excuse after another to avoid doing anything about it.
And so, that night started Dawn and Amy's special arrangement.
After that night, Dawn found it cold to masturbate alone. She contemplated asking Amy to come lie by her while she played with herself, like that fateful night; but she hesitated. She was her mother after all, her adoptive mother, but her mother nonetheless. Two weeks after that eventful night, Dawn was in a particularly depressed mood. It was the anniversary of her husband's death. That night, while masturbating, she felt especially vulnerable.
"Amy, can you come in here?" She yelled softly through the wall between their two bedrooms.
Amy heard her mother and got up and went into her room.
"What's wrong, Mom?"
"Nothing dear, come lie with me. Please."
Amy could see what her mother needed. She pulled her nightie off and was now as nude as her mom. She slipped in Dawn's bed and cuddled up the her. She moved her hands to her mother's body and started caressing her.
