Pat and Tricia
Chapter 1

Copyright© 2019 by Clark Hanson

Incest Sex Story: Chapter 1 - A bi-sexual daughter's attraction to her mother comes to fruition.

Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Fa/ft   Lesbian   Mother   Daughter   Water Sports  

I am Patricia; better known as Pat to my intimates, the 42 year old mother of a beautiful, but precocious teenager. Those of you out there that have such a daughter will know what that entails. I am married to Bernard – always to be called Bernard – a boring old fuddy-duddy of a husband whose get up and go has got up and gone. Don’t get me wrong, when I married him we had a whale of a time, my sex life was good and satisfying. I was in love with him totally. Now, I still love him – he’s a good man – but, that little word “in” is now missing. He has his own company and the business – which provides us all with a comfortable lifestyle – takes all his energy and most of his time. These days, we even have our own bedrooms at opposite ends of the house and the only time we go out together is to entertain clients.

I am five and a half feet tall, 34D 28 36, auburn and fairly fit thanks to regular gym sessions which I started to counter the boredom. I play a round of golf once a week and do a “Ladies who Lunch” date about once a month. And apart from keeping a clean and tidy home, do not do much else. I dress fairly conservatively, knee length or lower hems, loose fits and no significant neck lines. Never slacks; except for golf. All this at my husband’s insistence – I did say that he is a fuddy-duddy.

My daughter; also called Patricia, but known as Tricia or Trish to distinguish her from myself – the other protagonist in this narrative – is a younger version of myself, the same height, hair colour and 34C 24 35. She is very arty, in fact a brilliant pianist as am I, but I not nearly as brilliant. She also is a conservative dresser when dressed formally, but lets loose in tees and jeans or shorts at other times, much to her father’s chagrin. However, on her sixteenth birthday, I (having my own money as a result of my parent’s legacy) gave her a clothing allowance, and when doing her laundry once – she usually did her own – on returning it to her room, I noticed a change in her underwear drawer. Flimsy panties and bras, lots of lace, a cup-less black basque, stockings including hold-ups and underneath it all; most surprising of all, a rather large flesh-coloured dildo – bigger than anything real or fake I had seen – and a harness of some sort. How the hell was I going to handle this. There is no way that her father should find out about this little – sorry – big appendage. I needed to think. I laid her clean laundry on her bed, left her drawer as I hoped I’d found it and retreated to my own room to think.

Tricia and I are almost like sisters, in fact we are often mistaken for sisters. We are best friends. She is the only person that I relate to without having to constantly watch my “P’s and Q’s”. I had thought that I had her full confidence, she always told me all about her friends and their foibles, especially the boys. At least I believed she did. The underwear; albeit a surprise, was not a problem to me – though her father would not approve – but the discovery of the dildo hit me like a bus, I certainly did not see it coming. Was she a lesbian or at least bisexual? I had to talk to her. I found myself uncomfortable with this secret side to my daughter. I had to have it out with her.

She arrived home from school took her stuff to her room and returned to the kitchen and helped herself to OJ from the fridge. “What a god awful day” she moaned, “I could not make any progress at all on my art project. I just was not in the mood.” She sat at the breakfast bar sipping her drink and went on “I think I will take my frustration out on the piano. I need to practice anyway.” So saying, she flounced off to the family room where we have a baby grand, initially for my pleasure, but now she makes more use of it.

I decided that the best time to tackle her about it would be after dinner when she had gone to her room. I did not want an atmosphere over dinner which her father would certainly pick up on. As it was, dinner passed off as usual with she and I making most conversation, hubby butting in when he disapproved of her talking about a boy who was obviously chasing her. Following my discovery earlier, I took more notice of her and caught her looking at me with what – had it been a man – a leer in her eye. At this point I was easily tempted to put two and two together, but I was frightened of the answer. If indeed she was at least bisexual and fancied her mother, why did I not abhor it as my upbringing and my marriage demanded. As a teenager myself, I experimented with other girls especially at university and had a serious crush on a music teacher, but not my mother. God forbid, she was not my favourite person in the world. College and later marriage had been an escape from her domination of my young life. Not that I had fully escaped domination as you have probably surmised.

My husband noted (for once) that I was deep in though and offered a penny for them. Without blinking an eye, I told him I was considering whether or not to accompany our daughter to the piano recital she had been chosen to give in the capital. The look of bliss on her face as I said this was further confirmation of my suspicions. He was enthusiastically all for it, in fact insisted that I be her chaperone (to use his words). If it wasn’t for his over protection of her, I’d have wondered if he wanted me out of the way for some reason.

She helped me clear the dishes and finish cleaning up in the kitchen talking all the while about our upcoming trip and the fun we could have in the capital. Having finished, she excused herself to her father and I and went to her room. Later, when he was engrossed in the sports channel, I went up to her room to have it out with her. I was just about to knock on the door, which was slightly open when I was stopped dead in my tracks by “Come in Mummy, I want you to come and be downright fucking wicked with me, come and taste my delicious cunt juice.” Over the sound of slushing noises. Did she know I was there? “Come on Mummy you dirty, sexy slut, I know you are dying to munch on your filthy daughter’s hairless twat, I know it’s naughty, downright fucking wicked, but it will be so much fun.” Her crude language had my panties a sodden mess (a long time since that happened) and my nipples were swollen and ached for attention. I had to go to my own room and digest what I had just heard and reaction, my libido was at bowling point.

I stripped of all my clothes leaving them on the floor in a trail to my bathroom. I considered a cold shower, but in the end just rinsed my face in cold water. I sat on my bed and thought about what I should do. Why was I resisting the obvious action of admonishing her, as any decent mother should. A second option would be to hand the whole issue over to her father, but he would not be able to handle it. The act of considering these options should have calmed me down, but the thought that she knew I had been outside her door listening to her had me boiling. I longed to go back and listen to her dirty talk. She was right. What I was contemplating was downright fucking wicked, but as somebody who had been celibate for a number of years, the dam holding back my sensibilities and inhibitions was weakening. I checked on my appearance in the mirror and naked, slipped back to her door. It was now wide open! She had known I had been there and would probably return.

I stood in the door. She was led on her bed wearing the black basque, with black stockings attached to its garters. Her pussy was indeed hairless and shining with the juices of her recent climax, a vision of sexy loveliness. She smiled at me and opened her legs further. “Come here Mummy darling, it is about time you and I had some quality time together”. I stepped into her room, closed the door and lent against it as I locked it. Although her dad’s room was at the other end of the house, I wasn’t taking any chances.

I tried half-heartedly to retain my maternal authority “We really should not be doing this Sweetie”, but I started to walk toward her, “it is totally wicked.” By the time I had finished the sentence, I was on my hands and knees between her long stockinged legs.

“But irresistibly exciting” she responded pulling me toward her so that our lips came together. The touch of her soft lips against mine sent shivers through my body. The dam broke as my lips opened to accept her probing tongue. She pulled me down so that my breasts squashed against hers and I sucked on her tongue and played against it with my own, my excitement growing. “You do not know how long I have wanted to fuck you Mummy” I shuddered with excitement at her crudity, “but first I need you to eat my cunt while I eat yours. We are going to sixty-nine!” She spun herself round underneath me and wrapped her arms around my waist pulling me down to her mouth. I looked down at her shaven slit thinking that I would shave mine as it looked beautiful. “Eat me Mummy, eat my fucking cunt.”

As I felt her mouth make contact with my labia, I wrapped my arms around her waist as she had done to me and ran my tongue along her slit. The taste brought back all those hedonistic memories of the experimentation of my youth. Before long I was teasing her clit and tongue fucking her like an old pro’. Her own similar ministrations to my pussy were driving me toward my climax. As it hit me, so did hers and we clasped each other tight, shaking together in the forbidden ecstasy of the moment.

Our grasp on each other’s bodies relaxed simultaneously. She spun back around so that we could kiss each other. Not a passionate kiss, but soft and loving. We looked deep into each other’s eyes. She was the one to break the trance. “You have done that before” she accused.

“As have you, my darling” I responded “you’re not a bad pussy pleaser yourself.” I lifted myself up on to one elbow and looked down into those shining eyes. “I don’t know why I did not stop it happening, but I’m glad now that I didn’t. Your filthy, dirty language had my knickers dripping, I couldn’t resist when you invited me to be taste your nectar. We are going to be incestuous lovers my darling daughter and do filthy wicked things together. But and this is a big but, there is no way anybody, especially your father must ever find out. It would kill him if he even thought that we were the debauched sluts we are going to be. So, in public, or in his presence, no hanky-panky. OK?”

“Absolutely Mummy darling” she replied, reaching up to pull me down for another kiss.

When we separated I asked her when did she realise she was gay. “I think I’m probably bi’, but I have always, at least since puberty been attracted to women, particularly older women. There are plenty of websites with erotica on the subject. Reading stories of women and girls together really rocks my boat.”

“Any particular, older woman been rocking your boat?”

“Apart from my gorgeous, sexy Mummy there have been a couple. I am not going to tell you who and I am not going to ask you where or when your ‘previous’ was.”

I was proud of my girl’s maturity. “Then we have a reciprocal agreement. But I probably will relate my experiences to you at some point.” I rolled onto my back and spread my legs. “Now my girl, get your dildo and fuck me!”

“Whoopee!” she cheered and instead of going to her underwear drawer as I anticipated, she went to her wardrobe and came back with another one which was obviously a double. “This way we both get shagged” she giggled, slipping one end into her pussy. “We are going to have so much wicked fun”

“The more wicked the better,” I responded as she got between my outstretched legs. She placed he plastic cock between my labia, “but slowly please. It’s a long time since anyone or anything has been where you are about to go.” She pushed slowly forward meeting little resistance due to the drenched state of my pussy and drawing a long sigh from me. “Oh, my darling girl, it’s been too long. That is heaven.” As she bottomed out, I wrapped my limbs around her. “Now, be a good girl and fuck me.” She slowly withdrew and pushed back in. “No darling,” she stopped and looked at me, concerned. “Don’t make love to me, FUCK ME!” She did. Better even than her father in his heyday. I left her room slightly bow-legged, but with a smug, satisfied grin on my face. Once abed, I slept deeply and guiltlessly.

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