Chapter 8: Girls and Girls

Hi. I’m Kerry. I’m 42, built like a model, blue eyes, blond hair, not huge on top. If you’re following this sordid tale, you know that, but there may be few that just want the story of how this wife and mom crossed two sexual lines.

Jane’s our daughter. She’s 21, just out of college, a carbon copy of her mother in more ways than I was aware.

So, I’m one of those women who never had sex with another woman during college or ever. There are some, you know. I guess I didn’t have the right opportunity or a bi-sexual roommate etc.

On her first morning home, I’m having coffee in the kitchen, the men are all off to work, and Jane walks in naked. I hadn’t seen her naked in years and did not know that she had developed into a ‘mini-me.’ I stared, stunned, my coffee cup poised at my lip. Jane stopped and laughed. “What?” she asked.

I said, “Well, you’re naked, for one. I wasn’t aware that we were a nudist household now.”

Jane laughed again. “Wouldn’t dad and Dereck love that?”

I smiled. Her father would indeed, but that’s a story for another time, and her brother is gay.

“Well, we won’t be finding out. So, why?”

Jane got her coffee and perched on one of the high stools at the kitchen table. “What’s the big deal? It’s just us. I was going to get dressed, but I had shit in the washer, and I figured I’ll get it after breakfast.”

“So, this will not be a daily occurrence?”

Jane looked at me over the edge of her mug. “Could be. I feel really comfortable. Do I make you uncomfortable?”

Well, that was kind of an interesting question. I have seen very few women naked. We’re not like men walking around naked and bullshitting in the locker room with our cocks flopping all over. Sorry, that sounded a bit drooly and all. My college roommate was never naked in our room, except briefly at times to change. There were no communal showers in my life. Being a sexually active woman and one of varied interests, I’ve seen porn. I prefer homemade stuff, so I’ve seen ‘real’ people naked. Just not in my kitchen, not one that looks like I did in my twenties, and not my daughter.

I tried not to stare. Her breasts, probably a B, sat perfectly on her chest. Her nipples erect, but that was probably the cool air. She keeps her hair longer, just past her shoulders, and in a loose pony. Her waist tapers in and out to a perfect set of hips and the kind of round ass I used to have, not that mines all that bad. I guess her vagina is cleanly shaved, not a hair in sight. Just a tight vertical line between the slight bulge of her labia majora. I was embarrassed and intrigued.

“Not uncomfortable. You’re my daughter. We’re family, so it’s not like there’s rules. I’m just surprised at your casualness.” Jane got up to get more coffee, and her napkin fell on the floor.

Her full vagina and little round butthole right there as she bent over to get the napkin. I stared. How many cocks had slid into her? Has a cock probed that cute little asshole? I shook my head as she stood back up. Where did those thoughts come from? Jane did not catch her mother’s inappropriate gaze and filled her coffee, commenting, “You could join me.”

I laughed. “Our UPS driver would love that.”

Jane paused. “I’ve seen our UPS driver. I think she would.”

My remark was casual. I didn’t know we had a UPS girl. I stared at Jane. She smiled. “Hey, jus sayin.”

Our conversation moved on to other topics, job searches, dinner, etc.

I felt unsettled for the rest of the day and could not understand why. I assumed it was getting used to not having the house to myself all day. Well, Jane would get a job soon, and I’d be back to my usual routine. Jane sat at the dining room table, wearing clothes, with her laptop and phone, pursuing job opportunities while I lived the life of a domestic goddess; I cleaned toilets and did laundry.

After lunch, I was feeling a bit lazy. “You want to hang by the pool for a while?’ I asked.

Jane beamed. “Oh yeah. That’d be great.”

I said it, and I don’t know why. Out of my mouth before I could think. “You will be wearing a swimsuit, right?” Said with a cheeky grin.

Jane paused for a second, just looking at me, gave me a coy smile. “I don’t have to.”

Now I’m blushing, wondering where the fuck what I just said came from and how do I get out of this. “Um, no, dear. Our fence is only six feet high.”

Jane was on it like a dog with a bone. “Ohhhhh, so if it wasn’t- “

I held up my hand. “It was a joke after this morning.”

Jane headed for her room. “Yeah, sure, mom. But it would be fun, both of us and all.”

I stared at the now-empty hall as my daughter’s door clicked shut. Would it? Would I do that? I shook my head to clear thoughts that shouldn’t be there.

Many moms will tell you that you tend to put yourself last. Kids, husband, home all seem to take your energy, and one of the things that gets less attention is your attire. I mean, I’m stylish and all, but certainly not leading edge and not sultry. My two-piece fits that mold. No thongs, not even French cut. Practical.

I was standing in the shallow end of our inground pool when Jane walked out. After this morning, I was expecting to be shocked. Not too bad. Yes, it was a thong suit, and she had the tan line to go with it, but not shocking. I’ve seen many girls and women wearing them. Once again, my mouth got ahead of my brain. “That’s the raciest thing you’ve got?”

Jane stopped. “Mom, I was being a good daughter. I don’t have any Mormon bikinis. This is as ‘mom friendly’ as I get. I’ll be glad to go change into my Wicked Weasel if you want.” Smiling, standing, striking a subtle pose.

Me kicking myself in the ass again for not thinking. “No, that’s fine. I shouldn’t taunt you.”

Jane walked into the pool as I watched the water level move up her legs like a pair of hands-okay, enough of that. What the fuck is wrong with me?

We stood in the water, talked, swam a bit, and got out to lounge. Jane pointed at me as we dried, moving her arm up and down. “Mom, where’s you get this bikini, at a 50’s yard sale?”

“What? I’m a mother in her forties. I don’t need to be advertising what I’m not offering.”

Jane laughed. “Well, true, mom, but really, you could go a little smaller without saying, ‘Fuck me on the sand Mr. Lifeguard.’”

We both laughed a little too hard about that. Then Jane shocked me. As I watched, her hand moved toward the bottom of my bikini. She gripped a few of the stray pubic hairs that always seemed to sneak out, pulled them just a little, and let go. “And, mother, you really need to get the Amazon delta under control.”

I blushed, my mouth hanging open. Did that just happen?

“Well, I have let things go a bit. I normally tidy up, so this doesn’t happen.”

Jane moved to a lounge, lying and stretching out. “You could just take it all off.”

I lay on the lounge next to her. “Oh no. Not for me, thank you.”

Jane picked up her book. “Well, at the very least, we need to go shopping. That Marylin Monroe, halfway up to your tits bikini, has got to go.”

It was nowhere near that, but it was a few years old, and like moms, I had said, eh, it’s good.

“Well, daughter, I’ll put myself in your hands.”

Jane looked up from her book. “You won’t regret that,” and just looked at me. I blushed, and I don’t know why.

It was one of those trendy beachwear shops down on the boardwalk. This one more upscale. On a sunny day, there are no customers in the shop, and everybody on the beach. I followed Jane around the store, laughing to myself over the change in roles, her following me all those years as I bought her clothes. Jane, with a handful, headed for the back. I followed like a good little mommy.

Jane stepped into a changing room. They were quite lovely. Small rooms with full doors and a ceiling, nice store.

I waited for her to hand me my stuff.

“Get in here, mom.”

“Um, uh, I thought we’d, you know.”

Jane gently took my hand and pulled me in. “I’m not leaving the choice entirely up to you. It’s obvious you can’t be trusted.”

I stepped in. “Oh, I’m not that bad. I let you choose.”

Jane dumped the suits on one of the chairs. The room was spacious. It had an actual ceiling, carpet, two small lounge chairs, and a loveseat. Soft music came in from a small speaker with volume control. I’d never been in a store like this. Kohl’s wasn’t in it.

“Good point, mom, and a wise choice. I will transform you.”

With that, my daughter flipped off her tank top. Her breasts jiggled a bit as the shirt drifted off. I knew she had no bra on already, but it still was a bit of a surprise. Next, she shucked her loose nylon shorts, leaving her in just a VS G string. I couldn’t help but stare. Her command broke my reverie.

“Strip.” She said, smiling. I pulled off my top and laid it carefully on the chair next to my daughter’s pile. I slipped my shorts off, leaving me in my usual hip-hugger Hanes briefs and a bra. Jane tsk’d. “Boring, mother, boring.”

“Your father doesn’t seem to mind. He can’t wait to get these off me.”

Don’t know why I said that. Still watching my daughter’s breasts as she moves, and a glance down too. Eyes, look in her eyes, mom.

Jane pointed to my bra. “Top, mom, and I’m glad to hear that dad still knows he has a hot wife.”

“Well, I’m not a hotwife, young lady.”

Jane froze and stared at me. “And just how would my reserved mother know what that means? And no, that’s not what I meant.”

Now I gave a coy smile. “There’s things about parents that kids don’t need to know.”

Jane stared right at me. “But when kids become adults, things can change.”

That made my nipples harden, and my pussy tingle, and I was shocked at that response.

I slipped out of the shoulder straps, turned my bra, and unclasped it, not really thinking I would be half-naked in front of my daughter. I put the bra on my top. Jane surveyed.

“You’re holding up real well, mom.”

I blushed at being ‘assessed.’ “Thank you, I think.”

“Sorry, that was a bit backhanded. You are a very beautiful woman, Kerry.”

I stopped and looked at Jane.

“Do you mind, mom?”

Trying to be casual, I picked up my shorts and placed them on my other clothes. “No, not at all. You’re an adult now.”

Jane bent over to look through the two piles. I was fascinated watching her breasts, larger now, swing just a little. The fabric of the G string covered her vee, but the string bisected and emphasized her lips and perfectly bisected her tight little butt. That tingle was getting worse, and I needed to control myself. Jane handed me a set. “Okay, number one.”

I slipped on the bikini as Jane tried one of hers. They looked funny over our panties. I finished and stood, waiting. Jane’s suit was a thong, of course, high cut and briefer than the one she had on earlier.

“Are you going to wear that around our pool?”

Jane turned herself back and forth in front of the three-mirror set. “Sure. Why not?”

“Um, your father and brother, for two.”

She waved her hand. “Eh, they’ve seen plenty of girls in thongs. Derek’s gay anyway.”

How did she know that? “That may be, but I don’t think dad needs to see quite that much of his daughter.”

Jane turned and moved closer. Her breasts in the tiny top nearly touched my naked ones. She whispered conspiratorially. “But won’t you reap the horny rewards of daddy having naughty thoughts?”

Now her mouth caressed my ear, her voice barely audible. “Hope he doesn’t say my name.”

Jane moved away, stripped off the suit, tossing it on the other chair, and ignored the blank look on my face. I knew Jack looked at her, what man wouldn’t, but Jane had pushed the edge and made me think of ideas I’d never had and probably shouldn’t have. I ignored her comments.

“I’m not sure about this, Jane.”

It was as close to a thong as you could get. High cut. I’d seen girls on the beach with them. They spent most of their time with their fingers in their ass, getting it back in place, much to the delight of the men. Jane put me in front of the mirror. I felt her nipples on my back. Her hand gently adjusted the top, her fingers slipping in, not obvious, just helping, you know.

“You look good, mom. You’ve got the shape for this. Be proud.”

“Um, yes, Jane, but the bottom is going to need to be minded.”

My daughter ran her fingers under the fabric that barely covered my ass, still in my panties. It felt a lot nicer than it should. “That’s the point, Kerry. All the men watch. They love seeing us run our fingers up our asses. They want to be our fingers.”

She did it some more, slowly, like she was inspecting. I stood there. I knew my breathing was changing. I knew my pussy was wet. I was confused and excited. Jane took her fingers out. “Well, try on another one, but realize you’re a good-looking woman, and you should be proud of the fact that guys will stroke off thinking of you.”