After buying my first porn magazine, it was like the floodgates had opened. It felt like almost every time I passed a different newsagent, or a mini-market (the signs outside, saying "News. Mags" became intoxicating to me), I was compelled to go in and reach for the top shelf. To scan the pictures of the beautiful women who were showing their hot bodies and smiling so invitingly, the warmth in their eyes telling me that I wasn't alone in my perversions. To reach up and pull one after the other of the magazines out from where they sat, so I could see better what each one promised in this month's edition.
To take one or two down from the shelf, and flick through it while I could feel the shopkeeper's eyes on me, as I scanned through the pages, checking whether the girls in the magazine were spreading their pussies for the camera, or just posing topless and showing their pubes coyly, little more than page 3 models. I only wanted the mags where the girls opened their cunts wide with their fingers, inviting my gaze into their sweetly pink private holes, making me imagine the tangy marine odor and the slight dampness of their arousal. How they would smell an inch in front of my nose, as I breathed deeply their womanly aroma. How they would taste with the tip of my tongue. How their bodies would twitch and writhe for me as I did so, my heavy tits hanging down as I ate, my nipples brushing the cotton of the bed sheet on which I imagined the models lying for me, spreading their legs and inviting me in.
I soon built up quite a collection, and the majority showed busty natural girls. Girls like my Kelly. My hot, stacked, 18 year old daughter. At night, after Kelly and I had each gone to our own bedrooms, I would take out a selection of magazines and lay them out on the bed. One by one I would flick through each page of each of the magazines I had chosen, enjoying all of the photo sets, every one showing a woman with a body and attitude that was unique. No smile was the same. Every pair of tits had their own special identity. Every pussy had a character all of its own.
I wanted to hold every woman I saw. To smell them. To touch them. To feel our bodies connect, my soft boobs crushed again their soft boobs. Our legs intertwining as we rubbed our cunts against each other, while we kissed, responding to the mad fire in our clits, relieving each other.
But in reality I lay in bed alone, my imagination running wild, as my fingers worked my button in soft gentle circular strokes, plunging sometimes two, and something three or four fingers in to my sopping minge, until I each night I made myself cum with a powerful convulsion that made my legs shake, and often made me squirt, the tangy liquid giving a fragrance to my bedsheets that comforted me as I drifted into sleep, imagining holding a busty woman in my arms. Not a lesbian, but a straight woman like me who happened to be hungry for pussy for a mad but powerfully inescapable moment. Although I tried to fight it, my imagination would often fix on Kelly, and I could almost feel her soft, generous, body in my arms, her bum pushed into my crotch, my hands exploring her massive tits, my lips brushing her neck, as I whispered what a very good girl she was, and how very proud I was of her.
****
I don't think I became careless exactly, but I didn't feel like there was any particular need for me to hide my magazines. They were in a cupboard in my room that I had used to share with my husband before I kicked him out, and there was no reason why Kelly would have needed to go in there.
But I began to notice that sometimes the magazines wouldn't be in the same order that I'd left them in the previous time. I knew it could only be Kelly who was looking at them, but as she hadn't said anything to me, I couldn't think of a way of raising it with her without it being obvious that the mags were mine. I could only hope that she thought they had belonged to her pervert of a Dad. But why did she keep going back to the magazines? Was she wanking over them like me, I wondered? Mother and Daughter lesbos both playing with their pussies over pictures of the same hot women? It made me so wet to think about it. And then one day I knew for sure.
I'd been out at the shops, and when I came back I could see the light from Kelly's bedroom flooding into the darkened hallway. I didn't make any particular attempt to be quiet as I walked up the stairs, but when I reached her door I stopped, frozen.
Kelly was lying on top of her bed, surrounded by my magazines, each one of them open, showing a different woman, touching herself. I could see her shaved pussy lips so clearly, the moisture from her arousal showing in a slick sheen that accentuated every contour of her delicate folds. Her fingers circled her clit as she lay back with eyes closed, her 34JJ rack spilling from a sexy red bra, the fingers of one hand rolling the pronounced bud of one of her erect nipples.
I could feel my own pussy begin the throb with a gentle but insistent pulse, and a wetness begin to creep from within me. Involuntarily my right hand found its way between my legs and I massaged my mound through my jeans to relieve the building pressure, but of course touching myself have only the opposite effect, and I could feel my breathing get deeper as I passed the point of self-control.
What snapped me back momentarily was when I noticed what Kelly was wearing, and what she was doing, apart from playing with herself. She was in the same outfit as the girl in the magazine closest to where she was lying. Her clothes were in the same state, the gusset of her res thong pulled to one side, her tits spilling from her bra, and Kelly was lying in the same position as the model, her legs spread in exactly same same way, as if for a camera, but in fact giving me the most beautiful view of my life as I gazed from the doorway.
As Kelly used her fingers to spread her cunt lips I could see right inside my daughter's most intimate hole, and the sight momentarily became my whole world. It hit me instantly: my daughter was pretending to be a porn model. It felt like I had been poleaxed by lust.
