Chapter 4: Over the Edge

What made me do it? Everything, I thought. Curiosity, hunger, a total brain fade.

I turned my head slightly; Susan's lips caressed mine. I returned the pressure and Susan pressed harder still. I stopped and looked at Susan, who smiled and lifted her lips to be kissed. I did kiss her, not quite the full-scale assault that Gail had launched, but pretty clearly indicating what I was feeling. And Susan kissed back, telling me pretty much the same thing I told Gail.

After a bit, Susan pulled back, looking up at me. Her voice was soft, sweet, husky and dripping with hormones. "This afternoon, Jamie was really mean," she told me, snuggling closer. "She kept getting me really, really close, then she wouldn't let me finish. She said she wanted me counting the hours and minutes until we could be together again."

"Teasing," I said, a small smile on my face. "Lovers do it; it's not as mean as it sounds."

"But I'm so..." Susan made a frustrated sound, "horny!"

"Me too," I whispered, bringing my lips back to hers. Our tongues touched and wiggled together. I remembered Gail reaching for me; I was no longer capable of reason. I popped the snap of Susan's jeans as she lay on my lap, undoing her zipper. My hand pushed under the waistband of her panties, finding her clit. Oh my, how wet Susan was! And squirming and moaning as I stroked the strong knob my fingers found.

Susan moaned and squirmed, her hand coming to press mine deeper. She closed her legs and pushed hard; Susan was panting in pain and pleasure. It reminded me of how I'd sounded when Susan was born.

She let out a squeak, then another; her hand prisoning mine, deep inside her.

Her breathing slowed, but her hand stayed on mine. She looked up at me, and then smiled with just the corners of her mouth. "I guess we're really pervs, eh?"

"No, not that," I told her. I kissed her lightly for a second. "I don't know what I'd call this, but I don't think many moms have a closer mother-daughter relationship." I said it with a grin; Susan had an expression on her face that I didn't recognize.

"Mom..." she paused, pushed down with her hand, pressing my hand once again against her. "For almost a year, I've dreamed about you, about me, being together like this."

A year? Before 9/11?

"You can't imagine how many times I dreamed about kissing you." She leaned close, kissed me on my chest, above the top button of my blouse. "Kissing you all over." Her hand went to cup one of my breasts. "Kissing these." I hadn't bothered with a bra, my blouse wasn't much of an impediment.

"Go ahead," I whispered. Part of me was sitting in a corner of my mind, some of the time gibbering in fear, some of the time filled with self-loathing. But it all kept coming back to a feeling inside me that cut through everything else. A hard desire, a desire that penetrated and consumed me, unmoved by fear and loathing.

Susan started working my blouse buttons; I'm not really sure what happened in the next few minutes, but I was nude and she was nude, and she had one of my breasts in both her hands, suckling like a very large baby. And I had my hands cupped around the firmest bottom I'd ever imagined, caressing her.

I'd heard a few times in the high school gym locker room the phrase 'dueling clits.' I'd laughed, considering mine mostly stayed hidden deep inside a fold of skin. But it was out and about now, and so was Susan's, and while they weren't dueling, they did occasionally touch; and that touch was an orgasm all by itself.

Then Susan's body convulsed again, and mine rose to meet her, both our clits rubbing together as if they were tongues. Then I came, and it was beautiful, dreamlike and exhilarating, all at once.

Self-loathing was gone, fear was gone. Instead calm acceptance that I loved this, loved the way I felt, before, during and after.

"Susan..." I kissed her again, not so hotly.

"Mom..." she sighed, and I smiled back at her. "That was the best," she murmured.

I nodded. How do you explain to your daughter, what you can't explain to yourself? That was the finest orgasm I'd ever had in my life. Pervs, Susan had named us. I'd said no, but the true answer was yes. And I wanted her again. And if Gail had been there, I'd have wanted her too.

I saw Susan's eyes on me; trusting young eyes. How could I do this with my own daughter? Much less enjoy it more than anything I'd enjoyed in my life, even the sex that had created her?

"Mom," Susan smiled, kissed me lightly on my other nipple. "First rule of being a cheerleader: no regrets. You are the best mom in the world," Susan said confidently, "even without this." She moved her midsection against mine. "With it..." she giggled, "beyond compare."

She looked at my breasts, then back up at me. "There is nothing I'd rather do now, do later, do tomorrow... do for next month than to make love to these. I can't find the words to tell you how many times I dreamed about this."

"You have a life ahead of you, Susan," I told her soberly, "a life of your own."

She grinned. "Yeah, I know. But Mom, you have a life too. Your life didn't end when Dad's did, I know that. Mine didn't either. And it's not going to end if we make love to each other."

"It would if it came out," I said, giving voice to the fear deep inside me.

Susan laughed. "Mom! If every teenager who's had sex got caught, there would be fingers pointing everywhere! Mom, sex is good, it is. Nothing wrong with feeling good! You have to be careful, you have to be responsible. You have to be lots of things. Most of all, you have to have faith in people.

"Jamie and I have talked a bunch of times about how bogus the rules are. We can make love to every thirteen or fourteen-year-old boy at school we want, as many as we want. Fifteen-year-old boys. A sixteen-year-old boy? He'd better be a fast talker, or he could be in big trouble with just one of us. Seventeen? Toast! Simply toast. Over twenty? They throw the guy in jail and toss the key into the river!"

"Not around here," I joked with her, "no rivers." It was pure and simple tension release; still, both of us laughed.

"I can make love to twenty, fifty, a hundred different guys fifteen and younger, and they don't get in trouble. A seventeen-year-old, just one, no matter how many guys you've slept with, he's screwed. And as goofy as that is, it's worse if you're gay. You take potluck, depends on luck alone. Mostly, they don't mess with you, but sometimes they use the regular age rules. Other times, it doesn't matter, you're a perv, nothing but a perv and you end up in the system." Susan shook her head. "That's not a place I ever want to be."

I looked at Susan, contemplating her words. I had talked to her in general terms about the birds and bees; I'd told her sex was a bad mistake. I hadn't said anything about being gay, not a thing. Yet, it was clear she had thought about things, probably had talked about them with her friends. I suspected that included before we moved, as well as after.

She looked at me, smiled. "Mom, never ever will I tell anyone about you and me. No hints, no nothing. Mum's the word." She made a zipping motion across her lips.

I nodded and Susan went on. "Mom, like I said. You have a life, just as much as I have a life. Right now a good part of my life is Jamie. I don't think that's going to last very long, but I'm not going to cry over it. Jamie wasn't first anyway; you won't be the last, Mom. I'm not going to draw lines in the sand about my lovers. Right now, I don't want to be with a guy, because the downside is too much for me. So it's going to be girls for a while. Maybe for a long time -- but like I said, no lines in the sand.

"And if I find someone I like, not in the 'legal' age range; tough shit. No lines in the sand. And if you find someone you like, good! It's about time! You can draw any kinds of lines you want, anywhere you want."

She laughed, "And, oh yeah, I know kids aren't supposed to say it, but hey, we make mistakes. If I take up with a real loser, you can tell me to my face; don't hint, don't beat around the bush. I don't have to take your advice, but if I don't and I'm wrong... you get to say 'I told you so.'" She hugged me tightly.

I held her eyes, and then I let out a breath. It's supposed to be wrong to treat teenagers as equals, but really, what's wrong with it? Why can't we be friends? Adults have friends! "Susan, if you want... if I mess up... would you tell me?"

"That would be cool," Susan said, nodding.