I drew off her jeans and panties together, eager for her. She giggled and kept her legs closed, teasing me. Kneeling between her legs, I eased them apart, revealing her to me for the first time, cooing as the scent of her excitement wafted to my nose. Her hair was very fine on her mound, not very thick, and light brown. I kissed one knee, then the other, kissing my way down her thighs as she opened them more for me. I say the ring then, small and golden, nestled between her lips. She lifted her hips as my lips came closer, my tongue running between her lips as she opened, tasting her. Moaning, she rolled her hips, her fingers in my hair, urging me to her, as my teeth closed on the ring and pulled. She could tell I was excited by my discovery by the way my tongue moved, the smile she had to see even as I kissed her and more.
“Oh, Jenny,” she purred, her fingers in my long blonde hair tightening.
I smiled, “Yes?”
“Have you ever seen anyone pierced like me before?” I knew she wanted to be special, but I blurted it out anyway, immediately sorry, but the wine, the heady excitement of sex, the taste of her all clouded my senses.
“Only my mom,” I said.
Her body stilled under my kisses. I lapped at her, moving the ring in her clit hood.
“Your mom?” Her voice was thick, no longer passionate, but I was not sure what else it was. “Your mom is pieced? And you have seen her?”
I let my nod answer, licking her, not wanting the mood to change, wanting to make love with her, hoping she would not be shocked, knowing she was. But there were lots of reasons a daughter might know her mother was pierced through her clit hood. Nude beaches. Casual bathroom scenes. Any number of things.
Or, the daughter could have been between her mother’s thighs, just as I was now between Erin’s.
I had met Erin just that day. I saw her and wanted her and within moments of talking to her, I knew she wanted me too. I am tall and well-rounded, blonde and blue-eyed, and I easily attract attention. Just like my mother. These things went through my mind as I licked Erin, trying to bring her mind back to lovemaking. She was too curious, or grossed out, to let me.
“How… I mean, when…” She had to ask.
I moved from between her legs and lay down next to her. Softly, I kissed her lips, seeing her eyes were open. Sighing, I decided that I had nothing to lose now by being honest. Either she was totally turned off, or it would excite her to hear, so I told her.
“Erin, my mother and I are very close.”
She let me kiss her, then pulled away to look at me. “How close?”
My fingers moved between her legs, toying with the ring. “Very close.”
“Oh, god,” she murmured, partly with shock, partly because of my fingers. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No,” I answered simply, kissing her ardently, crushing my full breasts into her arm as I lay next to her, easing a finger inside of her as I did.
“You have made… had sex…”
“Yes,” I answered, punctuating my answer by pushing my finger into her deeper.
“Oh, god.”
I stopped her from saying more by covering her mouth with mine, letting my body speak to hers, wanting to bring her back into the moment, the touch of my fingers moving in and out of her, the sweet taste of my lips on her own, the warmth of my body touching hers.
Erin whimpered under me, and I could sense her excitement returning, building. She arched her back, pressing her slender body to mine, her sex to my fingers as her tongue pushed into my mouth. “Jenny?” she asked, breaking the kiss, “I think that excites me.”
In a moment I was sure of it as she pushed me back onto the bed, trailing kissed down my body, nipping each nipple a little harder than for pure pleasure, then moved down, down between my long legs, touching my clit with her lips. Her licking was hot and eager and I squirmed, raising my arms over my head and stretching my breasts and their hard nipples. It was sheer delight.
“Jenny,” she said, pausing in her licking, “tell me.”
Tell her. Tell her how I became my mother’s lover. As if it were that easy.
Delcy is an amazing woman. She was 25 when I was born, 40 when we first had intimate contact. Her mother was a pin-up model in the late 50s and early 60s, and my mother is even more gorgeous, to judge from those old pictures. Free-spirited and uninhibited, she began playing with other women when quite young, then with men later. She was married, briefly, before she met my father. When they did meet, sparks flew, and she left her husband and took up with dad and another woman, a ménage a trios that kept them quite happy for a few years. They broke up, then she reunited with Tina for the first part of my life, then married dad on my 15th birthday.
Shortly after I was born, she decided to go to grad school and supported us by taking off her clothes on stages in bars. She had already been featured in a men’s magazine, and her sister had done two porn movies. It wasn’t like any of the women in my family are shy about showing off their long, voluptuous, blonde-haired bodies.