Chapter 3

Without the rosary she was pretty sure she'd lost count but that didn't matter; she achieved the objective. She reached for the cordless phone on the nearby table,

'I'm getting too old for this' she concluded—feeling exhausted after her battle with Satin.

Dialing the number of the parish office she got the secretary on the phone.

"Hi Suzanne how are you ... It's Maryann Spencer."

"I'm good Maryann ... how can I help you."

"I was just reading the latest bulletin and I wondered if you have a number for Doctor Perez."

"I'm quite sure I do" the secretary replied and the woman in the antiquated bathing costume waited, listening to the keyboard keys click. "OK here it is ... are you ready?"

Maryann scribbled the number on the bulletin, thanked the Parish secretary and hung up. Taking a deep breath she dialed the number. She was pleased to learn that the doctor was in fact accepting new patients and she was overjoyed to be able to get an introductory appointment the very next day. She set the phone down feeling like she'd taken a first step in dealing with her problem and started thinking about what she was going to make for dinner.

Becky arrived in her room and slammed the door behind her. She was out of breath, and it wasn't from running. The busty blonde fell back with her shoulders against the door and clutched her tingling titties through her matronly top. A surge raced through her but it was just like fanning the flames. She struggled with the many, many hooks that secured the homemade bathing costume top. It was hard enough under normal circumstances but with her hands trembling as they were, and the urgent messages her tits were sending it was nearly impossible. She cried out in frustration and would have ripped the damn thing if it wasn't so thick and robust. When she finally released the last hook she pulled the straps off her shoulders and the top flew half way across the room with the follow through. The yellow bust cover-up was still in flight when her hands snapped back and grabbed her high pliable cones.

She felt the firm flesh yield as she squeezed and her strawberry points press into her palms. A jolt like a firm slap on the mons made her hips hunch. The dizzy feeling made her spin away from the door and drop to the floor. The tingling in her nipples was like an itch that had to be scratched. She gripped their plump pinkness and pulled—hard. This time the jolt in her girlhood seemed to have a rebound to it. The result was a series of spasms between her legs that left her gasping for air. With her tits temporarily satiated she went to work getting rid of her bottoms. The lower half of the yellow costume, with its demur ruffle to cover the crotch, slid down her legs and she kicked until she was completely free of it.

Knees bent and thighs parted as she lay on the hard floor. Her right hand cupped the whole of her vulva to stop the spasming. It was like grabbing Mexican jumping bean. It didn't stop the twitching it just changed it. Her fingers dipped between the soft folds of her hairless sex and were instantly coated with her slippery cream. Pulling back up, she felt the firm nub and trapped it between her three fingers and her pelvic bone. Her wrist began to oscillate and gyrate instinctively. The warmth spread through her and the pressure was building. Her eyes opened and she saw it. She didn't want to see it; she tried to will her eyes closed and pretend she hadn't. Becky did manage to get her eyes to shut but it did no good the image was temporarily etched onto her optic nerve.

'Shit why didn't I take it down' she knew the answer; her mother would freak!

It was her mother who'd put it up on her bedroom wall when they'd moved in. Her arousal was severely damaged but she continued to stroke her pussy trying to envision Michelle's vulva embossed on the pink stretchy bating suit bottoms. The only image her brain would permit was the damn Crucifix.

Even while she was still trying to recover her excitement her mother's words were echoing,

'You must never touch yourself for pleasure ... it is a sin and if you do it you'll have to confess it and do penance'

Guilt was starting to well up. Doing the penance wasn't that big a deal, sitting in the confessional telling the priest—a man—on the other side of the screen that she'd been playing with herself, now that was too horrifying to even contemplate.

The arousal had turned into an ache. It was deep inside and made her feel as though her pelvis or her belly, something down there, everything down there was in a vise. Her mind jumped from frustration to guilt to remorse and back.

'How can God give something that feels so good and then make it a sin to do it?'

She wished she had the nerve to ask Father O'Halleran. It would have shocked young Rebecca to know that her own mother struggled with the same questions.

The moment was lost and she knew it. She needed to get back to the pool where she'd left her new friend and playmate. There hadn't been anything in any of the admonishments about kissing a girl. She had kissed a boy at school and Drake probably thought they were a couple because of it. Becky knew that her mother would be so restrictive about where and when she could go with him that it hadn't progressed beyond some hand holding at lunch time and a bit of smooching behind the bleachers before they went home for the day.

The necking sessions only lasted a few minutes and Becky found herself comparing the experience with the kiss she'd received at the drunken party from Gloria's cousin.

'Maybe it's 'cause I'd been drinking that it seemed so... ' she was anxious to try it sober—with Michelle.

'I kissed a girl just to try it ... hope my boyfriend don't mind it... ' the line from the song played in her head as she wondered how she could get some alone time with her neighbor.

Michelle arrived in her room; she wanted to scream, she wanted to cry, she wanted something and she didn't even know what. Throwing herself on her bed she grabbed her newly formed breasts and squeezed. She wasn't sure if that made it better or worse. It was like the feeling she got when she washed herself times a thousand. She felt like her whole body was under pressure; some parts more than others but on the whole she felt like a powder keg. She pushed her top up over her cup cakes and squeezed the pebble hard centers, biting her lip to keep from squealing at the amazingly intense feeling she got between her legs. Hooking her thumbs in the waistband of her bottoms she shoved them down to her knees and clutched her mons.

That's the scene Elizabeth Conrad saw when she opened her daughter's bedroom door; Michelle lying on her bed with her top up under her armpits, her bottoms around her knees, and both hands between her legs. The feeling of guilt and embarrassment quenched the girl's arousal instantly and she screamed.

"I'm sorry ... uh—" Elizabeth didn't know what else to say and feared that her shocked facial expression had said too much already. She closed the door leaving her mortified daughter shivering as though she'd just been plunged into ice water.

Missus Conrad walked in a semi daze to her own bedroom and closed the door. She was not shocked by what she'd just seen, only taken by surprise and embarrassed for her daughter. She recognized masturbation not just as a right of passage but as an essential part of a healthy sex life. If anything she was disappointed in herself for not recognizing the signs that her little girl was ready to experiment so she could provide some discrete advice and belie the guilt feelings that so often accompanied the first experiences with self-pleasuring. The part that disturbed her was her physical reaction to what she saw. All of her erogenous zones had gone on high alert instantly.

In the seclusion of her bedroom Elizabeth squeezed her breasts through the tee shirt and bra she'd been working in and felt the familiar wave wash over her. Her mind naturally drifted back on the pleasure wave to her own first experiences.

Michelle thought she might die right then and there. She couldn't breathe and the shame she felt was unlike anything she'd experienced before.

'How can I ever face her again?' the question was so absurd when her referred to her own mother—as if there was a way to not face her.

The teenager was so completely overwhelmed the only thing she could think of was to run. Jerking her suit back into position she opened the door of her bedroom like she was opening a door in a haunted house.

'What if ... what if she's right there... ' she wasn't.

The youngster scampered toward the back door praying not to run into the woman who'd brought her into this world. She slipped out the door and quickly walked back toward the neighbor's pool.

She didn't know how she was going to carry on with any kind to normalcy. The humiliated teenager needed time to come to grips with what had just happened. That was the type of soul searching exercise that should be carried out in her room, but she didn't feel comfortable in her own house right now. The Spencers, mother and daughter, were sitting by the pool talking as she reentered their yard. Seeing her friend made her pussy twitch in spite of her current level of distress. She was beginning to realize how powerful those urges were. The scene playing out in her mother's bedroom as she walked toward the neighbor's pool was a case in point.

Missus Conrad realized that the breast massage was not going to cut it. Her right hand went to her crotch and her eyes closed. The vision that appeared was that of the secluded cottage beside the mirror smooth lake nestled in the pines. It was the summer she'd turned fourteen.

Her father was too busy that year to take any time off so her mother made arrangements to rent a cottage. At least she and little Elizabeth could get away from the city. Elizabeth recalled being overjoyed when her mom told her that she'd invited her aunt and cousin to join them. She really liked Aunt Margaret, who was her father's sister, but more importantly she was bringing Virginia, her older cousin. Ginny is two years older and Elizabeth had always looked up to her. The thought of being out in the middle of nowhere with her mom wasn't appealing but being able to spend the time with her favorite female relative was awesome.

They had been close up until five years ago when Aunt Margaret and her Uncle Jim had gotten a divorce. Her aunt and cousin had moved quite a ways away so she only really saw them on the Holidays and, if she was lucky, once or twice during the summer.

The memories were flooding back and Elizabeth lay down on her bed to let them carry her away to a more peaceful carefree time.

She remembered thinking that they must have taken a wrong turn because the road they bumped and lurched down wasn't even a cart path. When they finally arrived at the cabin it was so remote that they could have been the only people on the planet. The cedar structure with the wide deck facing the lake sat at the bottom of a hill. She remembered the intensity of the pine smell when they first got out of the car.

It was late afternoon by the time they'd unloaded and stowed their clothes and supplies. Beth remembered that first dip in the crystal lake with her mother when they were done. The water was cool but refreshing after lugging all the stuff into the cottage. Not at the time, but now, Elizabeth realized how remarkable it was that the place had electricity. It did not however have a television. Her aunt and cousin arrived the next day. They all helped unload the new arrival's luggage and went to get ready to reprise the refreshing and cleansing swim.

There were three bedrooms and a pull out couch in the main living area, which was pretty much open except for the supporting timbers. The girls were in one room and their mothers each had a room to themselves. That very first day, practically the first hour, the woman lying on her bed was realizing how pivotal the whole experience would turn out to be.

They'd been excited and jabbering constantly when they went into the little bedroom to change. Although they'd been together at Christmas and had visited for a few days the summer before it had been five full years since she'd seen her cousin naked—a lot had changed. She knew from their hugs that Ginny was endowed with substantial breasts, but seeing them bare for the first time gave her feelings that were not only strange, they were confusing.

What really came as a surprise was the pubic hair—or lack of it. When her older cousin stripped off her panties Elizabeth recalled seeing the long outer lips of her sex clearly and nakedly displayed below a tiny closely trimmed tuft of light brown hair. This was only the third vulva that she'd seen including her own. Actually she hadn't seen her mother's in a couple of years but her recollection was that it was mostly concealed by a fairly thick thatch of hair. She remembered feeling grown up when her own coochie had begun to develop its fuzzy fringe. That was over a year ago and there still wasn't very much there. It was only a month or so since her mother had showed her how to shave her legs and underarms. The thought that Ginny also shaved between her legs had made her kitty twitch.

Elizabeth's hand had begun to lightly drum on her mound through her shorts as she thought about that day long ago.

She'd been embarrassed by her childish one piece suit while the other's wore revealing bikinis. Her mother's wasn't very sexy but Aunt Margaret and Virginia wore suits that really showed off their assets and they both had a lot of assets to show off. She didn't know then why she was noticing the way their tops barely covered their nipples leaving very little to the imagination about the shape and contours of their breasts. She had of course had a glimpse of Ginny's boobies completely uncovered when they'd changed but she'd found herself paying more attention to her aunts breasts than she ever had before. It had caused a sort of churning feeling deep in her low belly. Aunt Margaret's bottoms were just a tiny triangle that barely covered her. Elizabeth was sure that her aunt also removed most if not all of her pubic hair.

Thinking back on it she wondered if her aunt had always touched her mother so much when they talked, and she'd never noticed before, or if that was new. The older women had only gone in the water long enough to rinse off and then returned to the dock. Sitting in the lawn chairs watching the girls, gabbing and sipping wine Elizabeth recalled seeing her aunt touch her mother's arm and shoulder as they spoke; at one point she even touched her hair and her cheek. From out in the water she'd had no idea what they were talking about but from the expressions on their faces she'd concluded that it was a serious conversation.

Virginia was first to get out that day and lay on the dock in the warm sun. Elizabeth followed suit. They were lying on their backs with their feet toward the lake so she hadn't realized that their mother's had gone back up to the cottage. The sun was blissfully warm after the cool water and she recalled lying there, eyes closed, drying and soaking up the rays when she'd heard Ginny make a sound like clearing her throat.

On her bed a quarter of a century later her hand had begun a firm circular motion on top of her mons. The next seconds of her reverie were a watershed in her life, and she knew that now. She saw that her cousin had pulled the little triangles that almost covered her breasts to the side and was cupping and squeezing her boobies; recalling that shock made her hand go faster.

"Ginny!" she'd said her cousin's name firmly—it was almost like a reflex.

She'd never forget the glazed look in the older girl's eyes when she rolled her head toward her.

"What?" she'd replied continuing her manipulation. "It feels really good, especially with the hot sun ... don't you ever play with yours?"

She recalled the amazing mixture of feelings she'd felt at that question. The truth was that she had discovered that squeezing her tiny new titties did feel pretty good but she was ashamed of doing it. On the one hand she wanted to be grown up and pretend she knew all about it, while on the other she was embarrassed to admit to her self-pleasuring. Ginny certainly wasn't the least bit shy about what she was doing. Beth recalled seeing her cousin's thumbs and forefingers capture the dark pink little knobs atop her tits and pull them out. The noise she made this time didn't sound so much like clearing her throat. Her cousin apparently didn't need an answer to her earlier question because she just continued after a brief pause,