Chapter 1: Lydia Makes a Naughty Wish

Lydia Murphy

I grabbed Mom’s panties lying on the top of the hammer down in the laundry room.

A wave of naughty desire rippled through me at the sight of the silk panties. They were purple with black lace. My heart pounded in my chest as I stared at them. I couldn’t help myself. Just the idea those were freshly-worn panties made my own pussy so wet.

I grabbed them and pressed them to my face. I breathed in the tangy aroma. That was my mom’s pussy. I breathed in again. I couldn’t help myself. I just wanted to be with a girl so much, but I was so shy. What if they weren’t lesbians.

Every woman I knew was straight.

I hopped onto the edge of the washer machine and rubbed my mother’s freshly worn panties into my face. I breathed in deeply, savoring that wicked scent. That was incestuous pussy. I quivered in delight and licked at her crotch.

I slid my hand down to my skirt. I hiked up the gray, pleated skirt of my high school’s uniform. I slid my fingers up and up, my fifteen-year-old body trembling with my excitement. I just had to touch myself. That would be so wild.

My fingers found my white panties. I felt the frill of lace around the leg hole. I slipped inside to my shaved pussy. I kept myself bare just in case. I slid over my hot lips to my virgin twat. I stroked up and down my flesh.

“Yes,” I whimpered as I stroked myself.

I closed my eyes, trying to think of anyone else to masturbate to than my mother. It was so wrong to imagine her. I stroked up and down my folds, focusing on anyone but Mom. I thought about my best friend Naomi.

Brown hair in pigtails. Her cute braces. The way she smiled. Or what about bitchy Buffy. She that she was hot shit since her daddy was rich. She strutted around the high school like she owned the place in her gorgeous outfits and bleached-blonde hair.

I would love to drop to my knees before her and make her squeal in rapture.

The sexy cheer squad bounced in my mind, especially Kate Miller with her red ponytail swaying behind her. Ooh, I would love to grip that tail as she munched on my cunt. I rubbed harder at my twat as I fought off thoughts of my busty mother.

The school nurse was such a sexy woman. Nurse Betty was so hot. She would look sexy in a slutty nurse’s outfit with a white cap and matching thigh-highs. She would tend to my pussy. “Oh, my, there is something wrong. I’ll have to apply a special ointment with my tongue all over your cunt, Lydia.”

I rubbed faster at my pussy while sniffing in deep the tangy aroma of my mother’s pussy.

Coach Barns, a sexy Black woman with ebony skin. She would look so hot with my pale thighs wrapped around her dark face as she ate me out. Or my art teacher, Mrs. Devi. A gorgeous, red-brown beauty from the Indian subcontinent with a delectable accent.

“I’ll be your nude model, Mrs. Devi,” I moaned in my mind, picturing myself arousing her with my youthful beauty. “Mmm, it’s okay if you can see my pussy. I won’t tell your husband.”

My French teacher, Mrs. Pelletier, could give me lessons in kissing. The French knew all about love. She could show me how to grope a woman’s tits then hot to go down on her pussy and make her squeal in delight. I would drown in her pussy juices.

My hot math teacher was an Asian cutie. Ms. Yamashita would show me a new way to do artithmitic with her tongue by eating me out.

Mrs. Jiménez next door would be so hot. A sexy, Latina MILF with big boobs and such glorious, golden-brown skin. I could eat her pussy. And maybe her daughter would catch me munching on the married woman’s pussy.

“You have to eat my pussy or I’ll tell my papa,” Alba would say as she watched me eating out her mother.

I would eat them both out. That would be so hot.

I focused on all those cuties as I tried not to think of my mother, but it was so hard. She was such a sexy woman. If she came down here and caught me masturbating like this, she would have to drop to her knee and eat me out.

“Let me show you how to really cum, sweetie,” I imagined Mom saying.

I rubbed faster at my cunt. My orgasm built and built as I stroked up and down my naughty slit. My clit burst with sparks every time I touched it. My virgin pussy clenched as the heat built and built in me. I would have a mighty climax.

I was so close to bursting. Just so close to exploding with such bliss. I groaned as my fingers danced over my clit. I whimpered, my body quivering on the washer machine. I trembled in my school uniform, my nipples so hard.

I wanted to make love to them all. I wanted to eat Mom’s pussy. Just nuzzle into her thick bush and find her tangy folds. I would lap at her with hunger. Just stroke my tongue through her folds and make her squeal in delight.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she moaned in my imagination. “Oh, that’s it. You’re just such a good girl, Lydia. That’s how you eat Mommy’s pussy. You feast on it.”

I was so close to cumming. My toes curled in my ankle socks. I whimpered, my brassy hair swaying around my face. I loved this so much. I craved all the lesbian passion I could drown in. I stroked my bud. It throbbed as I was about to—

Footsteps crashed down the stairs.

Fear shot through me. I jumped off the washer and ripped my hands from my panties as my older sister, the one girl I didn’t imagine at all, appeared. I shoved my hand holding the panties behind my back as she stopped.

Daphne was seventeen, two years older than me. She wore the same school uniform, though she rolled up her skirt so it was shorter. Her dyed-purple hair swayed about her shoulders as she arched a thin, blonde eyebrow.

“What are you doing?” she asked, my cheeks burning.

“Just dropping off some d-dirty laundry, I said.

“Liar,” she said and grabbed the front of my skirt. It had bunched up and tucked into my panties instead of falling down me. Then she grabbed my right hand and pulled it out from behind my back. She stared at my fingers dripping in juices. “You were diddling yourself.”

“Daphne,” I said, squirming, hating that malicious glint in her blue eyes. She was always such a bullying cunt.

“And are you holding a pair of Mom’s panties behind your back?” she asked. “Jilling to mom’s panties. That’s pervy. You’re just a dirty dyke, aren’t you?”

I trembled, about to cry. “P-please, don’t tell, Mom.”

“Well...” She tapped her foot as I squirmed there, my heart racing. She looked so thrilled that she had caught me. Positively ecstatic. I shuddered as she flicked her gaze up and down me, sizing me up. “I am supposed to weed the garden.”

“Yes, yes, I’ll do it,” I said. “Just don’t tell!”

“Well,” she said, reaching behind me and ripping Mom’s panties from my hand. She tossed those into the hamper. “Get to it.”

I raced out of the basement. Mom was in the kitchen. I darted upstairs to change out of my uniform. I did it in a flash. I took off my white blouse with my high school’s coat of arms on it, a blue lion with the red letters S P behind it for Stonewall Prep. I dropped my skirt and pulled on a pair of old jeans and a gray blouse that had a hole on the side.

I rushed back downstairs and grabbed my tennis shoes. I slipped them on and headed outside, Mom saying something to me, but I was out the door. I hit the gardening shed to grab gloves, a plastic bucket, and the trowel. Then it was off to the garden.

I headed to the nearest flower bed, the soil rich and black with white specs in it. I spotted the first weed and dug in. I tore it out, dirt spilling from the roots, and tossed it into the bucket. I moved onto the next, sweat beading my forehead.

It was on the fourth or fifth root when my trowel clanged into something metal. I nudged at it and could hear it clunking. Weird. I started excavating it, revealing a metal panel. It was bigger than I thought it was. How did this get here?

It was the size of a lunch box, but wasn’t. It was all metal and corroded. It looked like it had been buried for a while. It was a box, though, with a rusted clasp and dirt-clogged hinges. I drew it out and set it down before me.

It looked like it was from the 1800s. There were no markings on it, but it was battered. Dented in spots. I tried to get the latch up, but corrosion had seized it in place. So I banged on it with the handle. A bit of rust burst free.

The hinges creaked as I opened it.

Inside was faded, blue velvet that cradled a brass lamp. Like a genie lamp. It was horribly corroded. Just in such a sorry state. I rubbed at it, but nothing happened. I peered down the spout. It had some dirt clogged in it. I knocked it against the box.

Some powdery red stuff spilled out. I opened up the lid and stared inside. It was just an oil chamber. No genie living inside, sadly. I capped it up and stared at it. Where had this come from? I doubted Mom would have buried this in her flower garden. It must have been here for a long, long time.

Finders keepers?

I put the lamp back in the box. I bet if I polished it up, I could sell it to a second-hand shop. Maybe put it on eBay. It might even be worth something. It must be an antique. I mean, there was a reason genie lamps look how they did. They were based on real oil lamps. The spout was where the wick went that led down to the oil tank.

I went back to weeding, humming as I worked.

I squirmed on my stool before the easel. I was painting like the others. Well, trying to. I was so horny. Mrs. Devi was just so sexy. The Indian MILF had such lovely, red-brown skin and sleek and glossy black hair. She had that British accent, too.

“Let the brush speak to you,” she said. “When you’re expressing yourself, there are no wrong choices. Your art might not resonate with others, but we’re working on expressing our inner delights.”

I was painting a flower. A pretty, pink flower with blushing petals. I couldn’t help but wonder what sort of petals Mrs. Devi had. I would love to run my brush over her pussy. What would it be like to paint in a woman’s juices?

Mix them with the oil paints and make this art O’Keeffe could get behind.

She was just so gorgeous, and she wasn’t the only one. I was sitting next to Buffy. She might be a snobby bitch, but she had such flawless skin, and her bosom ... I wanted to bury my face in her cleavage. She wasn’t wearing her bow tie and had a few buttons of her blouse undone. Her legs were gorgeous, too. She had these knee-high boots on and her gray skirt was riding high to show off so much creamy thigh.