“Mom, I’m bored and my cunt’s hot,’ said Rosalind’s young daughter casually as she stretched her arms over her head and yawned. Megan stood in the middle of library at the Jefferson Public High School, she glanced mainingfully at her mother, who was working behind the librarian’s desk and service counter. It was Wednesday, the night Rosalind was expected to offer extended hours for the students and their parents, but this night, as most, no one had come in yet. Megan kept herself busy reading while Rosalind worked behind the counter.

At the sound of her daughter’s complaint, Rosalind looked up from her computer terminal and watched the 15-year-old’s perky, sweetly rounded tits rise and fall under the clingy, yellow-and-white-striped jersey-knit dress she wore.

Rosalind rubbed her eyes and sighed. “I know, babe,” she said, “It’s a drag to come down here every Wednesday night, but Queen Steele demands extended library hours one night every week.”

Rosalind was referring to the school’s taut, prim, and very professional principal, a woman 45-ish in age, dark-haired, and straight-suited. Though few families took advantage of the evening hours that Mrs. Steele demanded, Rosalind managed to get some of her cataloging work done during the time. She brought Megan along for company, and also to keep the girl out of trouble at home. Megan’s father had bowling on Wednesday nights, and Rosalind didn’t quite trust her sexually precocious daughter at home alone yet. At least not with her hazardously uninhibited cousin Daphne just a quick phone call away.

Megan loudly dropped the book she had been reading onto the checkout counter in front of her mother. Rosalind looked up from the file cards she had been sorting and transcribing to the computer, and aimed a forgiving smile at her auburn-haired daughter. The girl had an inscrutable look on her face, but her clear, greenish eyes twinkled with a familiar spark.

“Baby, I know that look in your eyes, you must be very sticky between those pretty little legs of yours,” commented Rosalind quietly. Her eyes shifted to the door to the hallway to make sure no one was coming in who might overhear their talk. “Come here honey and let me touch you,” she said, her voice revealing just the finest edge of lust.

Megan came around the desk toward her mother. Rosalind, perched on a high work stool, open her legs wide to let her daughter come close between them. As she spread her legs Rosalind’s navy blueskirt worked its way well up her plump but smooth and shapely thighs.

The woman kept one eye cocked on the hallway door as she pulled her daughter’s pert little body close, her nose nuzzling the soft, reddish hair as Megan buried her face in her mother’s familiar bosom. Rosalind felt the girl’s lips grazing her tits through the sheer, cream-colored linen blouse she wore. Her pulse quickened as Megan nuzzled her nipples through the silky fabric. Rosalind’s hands strayed low on Megan’s backside, fondling and caressing the young girl’s budding curves.

“It’s just another hour and we can go home and take care of that itch. Of both our itches.”

“But Mommy, I can’t wait that long!” Megan replied impatiently. “And you know Dad’s going to be home soon.”

“Oooh baby, Mommy can’t, not here at work,” Rosalind protested weakly.

“Mom, there’s no one here, touch me now!” insisted the girl, and her lips nipped hotly at her mother’s erect but still-blouse-covered nipples.

“Oh shit, baby, you’re going to get mother in trouble,” groaned Rosalind to her very naughty daughter. Checking the doorway with a glance again, she purred throatily and let one hand creep under her daughter’s short skirt. Her fingers slipped up the girl’s soft, almost cool thighs, drawing toward the intense heat of Megan’s young cunt. The perceptible change in temperature amazed and thrilled Rosalind as her loving fingers climbed between the girl’s legs. She started, then cooed when her fingertips found no panties, just naked, hot cunt lips fringed by the slightest wisp of damp, pubescent hair.

“Ooh, Meggie baby, where are your panties?” Rosalind inquired, her voice thickening with a lust that was rapidly outgrowing her ability to maintain a proper professional demeanor.

“I took ‘em off when I went to the Girl’s room, like, they’re in my pack,”

“Oh, God, baby, you’ll get in trouble if someone finds you in school without your panties, you know that,” scolded Rosalind, but her naughty and familiar fingers cupping the girl’s cunt under the short dress belied her attempt at parental sternness.

“So who’s checking, Mommy? Seems like just you are. Do you check all the girls for panties?” Giggling naughtily, the girl worked her lips up the naked space between her mother’s blouse and her throat, and then dove her lithe tongue down into Rosalind’s cleavage. Rosalind grunted, and in return pressed her probing middle finger into Megan’s cunt slit, rubbing at the small but engorged clit.

“So what are you gonna do, Mommy, report me to the principal? And exactly what does she do to girls caught without panties?” The girl smirked at her mother and rubbed her smooth young cunt lips gently against Rosalind’s fingers.

“Oooooh, fuck, baby, I’m not going to share you with the Queen. I suppose that means I’m going to have to take care of your naughty little ass myself, doesn’t it?” Rosalind chuckled, just a hint of nervousness trimming the thick, lusty inflection of her words. She stood up from the stool, brought her cunt-wet fingers to Megan’s chin, and gently pulled the girl’s face toward hers. The two kissed hotly, tongues battling in a familiar but still maddeningly arousing dance.

“Go in the back room, Megan, Mommy will be there in a minute,” panted Rosalind, barely conscious of her hands guiltily straightening her blouse.

“Are you gonna eat me?” Megan squealed excitedly.

“Sssssh, baby, keep your voice down, just get in there and hop up on the counter. Make sure the door at the other end of the room is locked,” Rosalind instructed as she held the door to her private workroom open for her daughter.

As Megan scurried through the door, Rosalind’s eyes scanned back to the library entrance, the main door from the school’s hallway, checking again to make sure no visitors were on the way. The she walked to her desk and quickly filed the cards she had been working on, saved the working file on her computer screen, and passed through the door to the workroom to join her daughter. Rosalind, too, was flush with eager excitement, though complicated by the very adult fear of discovery, an emotion that she knew her daughter could not quite appreciate. Perhaps this lurking edge of fear gave incest its especially rich sexual high, Rosalind thought as she entered the small workroom. Her clit throbbed with anticipation, her tongue coming out to moisten her lips.

Megan had the short dress rolled nearly to her waist, and her slender young thighs were spread on the blue countertop as she worked a small finger into her slit. The countertop was already smeared with the fragrant juice that sapped from her cunt. Her proud erect nipples poked against the front of her flimsy knit dress top. It was obvious the girl wore no bra, though there was really little need for her to, outside the conventions of social modesty (conventions that only occasionally restrained their family).

“My God, are you hot, my little baby!” cried Rosalind as she bentto kiss her daughter again on the mouth. Megan’s free hand rose to squeeze her mother’s large breasts as they dangled invitingly, like vine-ripened melons, inside the cream-colored blouse, barely restrained by a flimsy, sheer bra. Her mother was dressed like a librarian, but even so the women’s sublime and wanton sexual nature was not fully hidden. Rosalind’s fingers touched her daughter’s lively, satin-smooth thighs, then gripped them and pushed the girl’s legs upward and outward as their kiss continued.

Megan’s head pulled back, breaking the kiss. She panted with unbridled excitement. “Eat me Mom, lick my ass!” the exhilarated girl cried as she braced herself behind her back with her free hand on the countertop. Rosalind gasped with a rush of insane incestuous desire, then dropped her face to the child’s smooth, fragrant crotch, inhaling deeply. As she held her daughter’s slim thighs high, the naughty mother moaned and began lapping at Megan’s exposed inner thighs and crotch, tasting the hot tang of clean, young girl-cunt. It was a distinctive, saturated flavor and smell that Rosalind could never forget, and never get enough of. Her tongue worked its way past the naked, nearly hairless lips into the heat of her daughter’s tight cunt slit, then yawed downward to flutter against the pucker of the tiny pink pucker of Megan’s bunghole. Her nose pressed against the girl’s clit as her tongue lapped through the cleft between the twin, firm little buttocks.

Suddenly Rosalind thought she heard a child’s voice in the other room, and she stood up, stock still, ears straining. She pressed a finger to Megan’s lips to stifle the soft giggle that came from the girl. “Just wait here,” Rosalind whispered as she lifted the front of Megan’s striped dress and wiped her slick lips on the hem. She pulled the damp dress back down so it covered the front of her daughter’s crotch, then opened the door that led back to the library and her desk.

“Well hello, so there is somebody here,” Megan heard her mother say as she passed from the workroom into the library, closing the door behind her.

“It looks like I finally have some visitors tonight,” Rosalind said to the young girl and handsome middle-aged man before her. It was Shauna Butrielle, a brainy, mousey-haired freshman and devout reader of mysteries, here tonight with her father.

“My, my,” thought Rosalind to herself, but Mr. Butrielle is quite a hunk of a man, isn’t he? Who’d have thought it from frumpy little Shauna?” But she bit her tongue, hinting at her thoughts only with her appraising eyes.

“Mrs. Gilbert,” Shauna said, “Remember, you were going to have that next Martha Grimes book for me?”

“Yes, Shauna,” Rosalind replied, “It came in from the State Library yesterday. I have it right here for you.” She reached down to retrieve the book from under the counter. She felt her skirt rise high on her legs, and she hoped that neither of them noticed how damp the insides of her very full, curvy thighs were. When she stood up her cool greenish eyes met those of Mr. Butrielle. His face reddened slightly, but he smiled, and Rosalind smiled back. “It’s certainly a pleasure having Shauna in school. Your daughter is a very eager reader,” the woman said, smiling and brushing a shock of her auburn hair from her eyes.

“Yes, she is,” Mr. Butrielle said, his eyes flicking down almostimperceptibly to the deep, naked cleft betwenn Rosalind’s roundly protruding tits. “And she has only very nice things about you to you, Ms. Gilbert.”