How do you even reconcile that? A young woman, just barely nineteen years of age, in lust and love ... with her own mother! You can't. At least I couldn't. And because I couldn't, I couldn't say, do, or tell anyone. It had remained a deep dark secret for years.

And the funny part? I knew I wasn't a lesbian, not in the sense that I had desires for other women, I honestly didn't. Not really anyway. Sure, I had wondered what it might be like with a few girls ... but I had wondered the same about several boys too, one or two of which I had dated and allowed certain liberties with. It wasn't until I had turned eighteen that I'd even lost my virginity, well over a year ago now, and had only slept with one other boy since then. And no girls ... no girls whatsoever. But like I said, it wasn't women I was really interested in. Just one. And that one I could do nothing about anyway. Not ever.

Every time I even masturbated, I went back in time. That was always how my fantasies started out, whenever I was thinking about mom..."Darlene" as I sometimes even called her whenever we went out together. It had become a bit of a running joke between us, that eventually took hold. Mom looking far younger than her 37 years, so much so, very often people thought we were sisters. Both of us with dark brown hair falling well past our shoulders. Each with hazel colored eyes, similar builds even, though I knew mom had slightly larger breasts than I did, though not by much. We even wore the same clothes at times, an inch within height of one another at around five foot eight or so. And even some we met and knew, said we sounded just alike over the phone even.

I rather liked the idea of that, and eventually ... so did mom. So outside of the house, if I called her Darlene instead of mom, or mother ... she'd smile, share a secret laugh with me, and usually tease me back in some way, usually referring to me as her "older sister." Though that one was usually a bit hard to swallow. Still, it pleased me to no end whenever she said or did anything like that.

But I remember how my desire for her had come about as though it really was yesterday. Mom and dad had gotten divorced when I was very young. A year later he was killed in an automobile accident, so I didn't have much of a recollection of him at all aside from a few rare photos mom had kept, mainly because of me being in them. Beyond that, not much else. I did recall going to dad's funeral, not even sure I looked at him. But what I did remember was sitting in mom's lap, crying perhaps because she was, even though they were divorced. I think she still loved him, and even missed him a little bit. And perhaps more now because of his death. Wanting to comfort her perhaps in some small way, I sat in her lap, hugging her as she hugged me back. And by accident, because it was, I remember just reaching out to hold onto her, hold onto something, and inadvertently found my hand clasping her breast. She allowed it, only for a moment or two, but then shifted in her seat, removing my hand away from her. Perhaps it was too obvious, especially sitting where we were, there in the church. But I waited just a bit, and then put it back, once again just holding, softly, not moving. She again allowed it, or ignored it, or perhaps simply enjoyed the intimate needful contact of two grieving souls. Whatever the reason, we stayed like this for a lot longer, before she finally made me move my hand away from her once more.

I didn't try it again, not that day anyway. But later the next day at home when we again just cuddled on the couch, grieving, remembering ... comforting one another. I again reached up simply to embrace, to hold, and again came into contact with her breast, only now resting my head upon it as though it were a pillow. I think I actually fell asleep like that. My head on her breast, the other holding and cupping it just like it was a comforting pillow to me. I don't remember her taking my hand away from it that time.

Over the years, especially when I finally discovered the joys of masturbation, that distant memory of doing that would come racing back. But interestingly enough, each time that it did, each year that I grew, that image of me sitting there, holding mom like that, had me at whatever age I currently was at. Not as that of the little girl I certainly once was back then.

I never failed to have multiple orgasms thinking about that, fantasizing. But I also never failed to have the worst guilt ever afterwards either. It had gotten to the point that I fought against the urge to even do so, eventually relenting of course after days and days of wrestling with myself. I would purposely imagine boys I had gotten to like, or even thought about. I'd also found, or rather stolen, a dirty magazine I had once discovered at a friend's house, using that as the source to stimulate my pleasure. But inevitably, after the initial thoughts, the pictures, photos or whatever, my thoughts always returned to once again sitting on my mother's lap. Only then could I climax. It was a never-ending struggle.

After high school, and not yet having enough money to further my education with yet, I starting hanging around mom, or rather she'd actually invited me to do so. Learn the trade, see if it was something I'd eventually be interested in doing. She'd done fairly well as a realtor, making enough at least to pay the bills, though not much more than that, certainly not enough to likewise put me through school. I'd have to do most of that myself. Which was again the reason for finding some sort of job in the meantime, possibly getting my license, and perhaps even working with mom at some point.

An idea I didn't exactly disapprove of. The more time I could spend with her, and around her, the happier I was. But it was almost as equally frustrating too. Fantasies, images, wicked erotic thoughts about my own mother, dominated almost every waking moment of my day.

It was a catch 22.

And then the most amazing thing happened that basically changed my entire life!

I had always wondered why mom never got remarried again, though selfishly grateful that she hadn't. It wasn't like she'd suddenly become celibate either, I knew better than that. She had dated, still did ... though not nearly as so often as she once had years ago. I'd caught her on the phone talking to my aunt, her sister Cathy more than once. Giggles, whispered words, some of which I'd heard and picked up on a time or two whenever I'd managed to eavesdrop on their conversations. The moment I walked in wherever she was however, the conversation immediately turned to the weather or some aspect of her job, even though I knew better. I liked my Aunt Cathy, she looked a lot like mom too, just a bit older perhaps, and therefore a little like me as well. I hate to say it, but she could have easily passed for "our" mom.

Whatever the reason, she never brought any guys home, and rarely ... rarely ever spent the entire night out. I think she did that maybe three times at the most. Usually it would be late yes, coming home well after midnight. But she always came home, always stood in the doorway checking on me after sending the baby-sitter home when I was still too young to stay by myself. And then later, even when I was older, having Aunt Cathy keep me company then instead.

Like I said, I liked my Aunt Cathy too, she allowed me a glass of wine here and there whenever she'd come over. She and I would very often watch a steamy movie together, filled with lots of simulated sex, (nothing hard core ... or porn if you will) but it still got my mind going, and juices flowing between my legs nevertheless. And yeah, admittedly, I had indeed fantasized about my Aunt Cathy once or twice too, though usually after watching her change clothes if I happened to be sitting in the same room with her when she did that. Normal stuff maybe, she had a nice body too. But it almost didn't matter with whatever mom wore. A hint here or there, the way she wore a dress or a pair of jeans. A low cut blouse, sometimes a tee with no bra. The moment anything like that happened, I could be standing there, images of me sitting on her lap again. And away we would go.

But I digress. Like I said, it was an interesting, eye-opening day for me, that completely changed my life.

I had actually been invited to go out to the movies with a girlfriend on a particular Saturday afternoon. I knew that mom and Aunt Cathy were going out shopping later, and then home later to share dinner together, and with me too of course, after the movie was over. I was even looking forward to that. I headed out to meet my girlfriend at the theatre, arriving and then waiting for her at the ticket counter when she called me on my cell phone. Her car had broken down on the way there, so she wasn't going to make it. I asked her if she needed a ride or anything, but she informed me her dad was already on his way. Slightly disappointed at not seeing the movie with her, I made the best of it, and decided to go home. With luck, I might even catch mom and my aunt before they went out shopping together, thus tagging along with them, "sisters ... and mom together again," I thought laughing at the prospect. I even called, but mom had her cell turned off for some reason, so I only got her voicemail. I then tried my Aunt's number with the same result. Close to home, I gave that idea up, especially when I saw my Aunt's car still parked out front of the house, and mom's too of course, so I knew they were still home.

The odd thing was, I had this weird feeling, perhaps a premonition, or maybe just this crazy wild urge or desire to catch them doing something, or talking about something they didn't want me seeing or overhearing. Because of that, I parked my car in front of the neighbor's house next to ours, and then headed up the driveway into the back door of the house from there. To this day, I don't know why I did that, but it was again an action that dramatically changed my life.

I slipped in through the back door, down the hall towards the main sitting room. I could hear voices, or rather soft moans coming from that area. Almost on tippy-toe, I walked towards the room just easing around the corner standing there looking in. It wasn't as though there was a lot going on, but enough. Enough to shock me anyway, even disillusion me to some extent, though later in my room I knew it was more jealousy than anything else. They were still dressed, mom and my aunt sitting side-by-side together there on the couch. But my aunt was sucking one of my mother's breasts!

I figured that mom must have caught the movement of my entry out of the corner of her eye, though I turned almost immediately. So it was either the movement, or now the sound, as I no longer cared about not being discovered as I fled down the hallway, and then up the stairs to my bedroom, actually slamming the door. Like I said, I was more jealous than shocked really, of what I'd just witnessed, emotions flooding through me in every direction at once.

It wasn't long before I heard a soft knock on my bedroom door, followed by the sound of my mother's voice.

"Cindy? Can I come in please? We need to talk."

"Yeah, no shit!" I thought, but then answered. "The doors open."

Mom entered my room, obviously dressed of course. She took a seat across from me where I remained sitting on the edge of my bed.

"Where's Cathy?" I asked, not even calling her Aunt, which was in a sense my way of voicing my displeasure, and shock ... and everything else I was feeling by leaving that out.

"She went home, thought it might be best to let you and I have a chance to talk about what you saw, what you think you saw."

"What I think I saw?" I half shouted back. "You trying to tell me I didn't see Aunt Cathy sucking your tits?"

Mom's face sunk just a little, I could see she was as hurt and confused and as embarrassed as much as I was by all this.

"No, she was ... but you need to hear me out before you go jumping to all kinds of conclusions here Cindy. It's time that I did come clean with you about a few things, about your Aunt and I. But I'm going to ask you to listen to what I have to say before this goes any further. Will you do that for me please?" Mom's voice had a soft, yet pleading tone to it. I knew she was serious, and yet anxious for me to listen. And to be honest, I was curious to hear more, find out why my aunt was doing that to her for one, and for another ... why mom appeared to obviously be enjoying it.

"Go on," I said in a softer tone of voice, waiting on her now.

She swallowed, folded her hands within her lap trying to relax. "You do know your aunt is and always has been a lesbian yes?"

I'd always known that my Aunt seemed to go in that direction, though I don't think I'd ever heard the term come up actually labeling her as one. I had always figured she might be, though I also knew that mam and paps, would have had a heart attack had they ever been told, or made aware of the fact that she was. Aunt Cathy had never married of course, but she didn't live with any women either. No doubt, she'd had plenty of girlfriends or partners, but again ... she certainly didn't flaunt doing that around any of the family either.

"What's that got to do with you mother?" I said keeping things a bit more on the formal side here between us. "You trying to tell me something?" I added once again letting mom hear the edge in my tone of voice.

"Yes, I am ... but not what you're thinking," she responded back raising her own voice just a little. "Now if you'll please give me the courtesy of not interrupting me again, I'll explain it to you!"

I sat back on my bed, using my elbows as a rest, propping myself up, but I said nothing further, waiting for mom to somehow make sense out of all this for me.

She paused waiting on me, satisfied I was done talking, and then continued. "I need to go back a little, tell you a few things that at first might not make too much sense. But you need to hear all that, understand it, before I can even begin to explain what you saw the two of us doing," she paused once again, though I kept my mouth shut, simply nodding my head. Curious now.

"The reason your father and I got divorced, was because he used to hit me. He only did so twice, but the third time he ever did was the last time he ever did. I swore then that I would never ever again let another man do that to me. And up until a few nights ago, no one ever has. In case you hadn't noticed yet ... I'm no longer dating Jerry."

I never had liked Jerry, though I'd only seen him a couple of times over the past few months. He'd occasionally come by the house, pick mom up for an evening out, and then leave with her. I'd caught him checking me out on more than one occasion, and not in a friendly way either. He'd given me the creeps. I figured mom had been sleeping with him though she'd never come out and told me she had been of course, something she never did.

"Well, just so you know ... a few nights ago, we got into a fight, mainly because I refused to spend the entire night with him. He'd been drinking, though we both had, and whatever it was that set him off, well ... he slapped me. Needless to say, that was it between us. And as I have always done, I immediately told Cathy what had happened. Throughout all the years she's always been there for me, and I've always been there for her too."

Once again I started to say something, but mom's look kept me from doing that.

"I'm getting there," she stopped, looking at me, so I closed my mouth again. "Long ago when I was still living with mom and dad, as was your aunt while I was going to school in order to get my degree, long before I eventually met and married your father. Cathy and I still shared a room of course, even though by then we were both adults, neither one of us able to afford moving out onto our own yet. But that was fine at the time, we'd always been close, always gotten along well with one another. And it was because of that perhaps, that we'd found ourselves getting closer in other ways too. Your aunt was the one who taught me all about masturbation early on, not only telling me about it Cindy, but eventually showing me. And then in time, the two of us masturbating in front of one another. Quite naturally that turned into the two of us doing one another, and eventually ... more than that."

Mom took a deep breath, her voice nervous and quivering. I could see that this was hard for her in trying to tell me, though I still hadn't as yet grasped the why of it all.

"That's basically how it all began. Very often after coming home from a date with some guy, I'd be aroused, horny and excited, though I'd made a promise to myself to keep my virginity intact until the right man came along. It wasn't easy, and I was very often as frustrated and horny as the poor guys were that I wouldn't allow doing more than perhaps feel my tits up a little. It was a different time back then. Girls didn't put out beyond maybe giving their boyfriends a hand job or something, if even that. But it didn't change the fact, I'd very often come home from a date in need of some relief myself. And the same was going on with your Aunt too. Yes, she was seeing and dating guys then, not quite ready to face, or accept the fact she was more attracted to women back then. Again ... a sign of the time perhaps. But what that did do ... was bring the two of us even closer intimately. We used one another to satisfy those desires, take the edge off so to speak ... and keep one another in check from just giving it away to some guy, simply because we were both horny."

All this was interesting of course, but I still didn't understand why ... after all this time, there the two of them were on the couch again, but I held myself in check now from asking anything, letting her continue without any interruptions from me.

"And just so you know Cindy, it's been several years now since your Aunt and I did anything with one another. So it's not like we've been having this secret little thing with one another all this time either. Because we haven't. But ... like I said, it was the one thing we did share, the one thing that when either one of us was upset, hurt, that we would use in comforting one another. After I told her about what had happened to me, after what Jerry had done, she came over of course to discuss it with me. And quite naturally, after what we'd done in the past, it seemed quite normal to do so again. Allow that intimate caring aspect we'd once shared together, to happen again. That's why she was sucking my breast Cindy, so yes ... if you're wondering, had you not come in when you did, no doubt the two of us would have ended up in the bedroom shortly after that, going down on one another, just like we used to do for one another. I'm not trying to justify any of this, just finally be honest and open with you about it. You're not a child any more Cindy, far from it. You're an adult now. And as an adult, you have the right to hear all this, from me ... and from your Aunt too if you ever feel like discussing any of this with her. Which I might add, she's hoping you will at some point. The last thing she wants is for any of this to come between the two of you either."

"So ... this was, all because of Jerry? Him slapping you, that the two of you ended up on the couch together like that?"

"Yes," mom said sitting back in her chair again, looking relieved that she'd at last told me everything. "I know it must still be quite a shock hearing this. Realizing that your own mother, and her sister, have ... well, had intimate relations with one another on and off over the years. But there it is Cindy. I'm not going to sit here and tell you that it won't happen again either at some point, it probably will in fact. That's just the way it's always been between us. We've used that as a means of comforting each other during hard or difficult times. So it's not like we're having this ongoing, constant sexual relationship with one another. Just once in a while, usually because of things or situations like this, with Jerry," she finished.

"Ok," I said actually accepting all this, no longer as angry or as hurt as I had been. In a strange way, it all actually made sense, and I could understand why they had ... why they still did. But I was also secretly, still a bit jealous because of it. Which certainly didn't help my situation out any. If anything ... now knowing all this, it just made it worse!

"So ... now you know the entire story, though I'm sure it's still a lot to absorb, seeing what you did see, and almost seeing what you didn't. I do hope honey, that you'll find a way to forgive me for it though, someway, somehow. And you're aunt too for that matter. She cares about you an awful lot, and she's probably even more nervous and upset about all of this than I am. So I hope you two will get a chance to talk, if you want to."

I figured we would, eventually. But right now, mom was right. This was a lot to take in suddenly.

"I'll be the first to admit though honey, I am relieved. I'm glad I'm not carrying this secret around with me anymore. And I promise ... no more secrets either. Their shouldn't be any secrets between us now. We're both adults, and it's about time I started treating you like one."

Mom stood preparing to leave.

"Ah mom?"

"Yes honey?"

"Sit down ... I need to tell you something."

I guess I shouldn't have been too surprised. Perhaps the old saying "honesty is the best policy" really wasn't. Or maybe my timing was just off, especially after what she'd just finished telling me. But to hear that her own daughter very often masturbated, fantasizing about her own mother, and that I had been for years, wasn't something she was ready to hear about just then, let alone wrap her mind around. She just sat there staring at me for the longest time before finally saying, "But ... but I'm your mother!"

"Yeah? So? And Aunt Cathy's your sister, is one any worse than the other?" I asked.

She was obviously flustered, unable, or perhaps unwilling to respond to that. "I need ... I need to think Cindy," she said, and then stood, and then without another single word ... mom walked out of my bedroom. I sat there looking at the once again closed door for the longest time, wondering what the fuck had just happened.

One thing's for sure, if anything, our little chat seemed to put additional distance between us. For the next several days we basically avoided one another, though if and when we did sit down together, over dinner ... or later while watching TV, we hardly spoke. And if then, it was usually about the weather, or how her job went that day. Gone was the laughter, the joking, the teasing of one another. And the time sitting near her saying nothing, well like they say, the silence was deafening.

It had been like that for nearly a week now, and I was so torn up inside, I was seriously contemplating taking a job elsewhere and then moving out. Get a place of my own, ready or not. I had gone up to my bedroom far earlier on a Friday night than I usually did too, saying goodnight to her, cordially, even finding it awkward when I leaned over kissing her on the cheek. It was as though even that now held some secret, vile obscene connotation to it that was making any affection whatsoever between us, impossible to continue with. I slipped on what I usually wore to go to bed, a pair of panties only, and then slipped between the sheets turning out the lights. It was barely past ten o'clock as I lay there trying to go to sleep, which fifteen minutes later as I lay there with my eyes wide-open, was proving fruitless. There was only one thing I could do that usually helped with that. Though even then I was reluctant to do so. I knew what images, no matter how I started out, would end up inside my head long before ever reaching orgasm ... if in fact I even did. I had even put my headphones on, listening to soft music, which very often in the past, had helped lull me to sleep. I slipped one hand down the waistband of the white cotton panties I had on, and began touching myself. The other, fingering and toying with my breasts as I very often did, those uncovered by the sheet as I lay there, the images now of course forming inside my head. Only different this time. No longer me sitting on mom's lap ... but sitting next to her, kissing and sucking her breast just the way I had seen Aunt Cathy doing.

So absorbed in my thoughts, the music ... I didn't hear mom's gentle knock on the door, nor her opening it even though I hadn't invited her in. How long she stood there looking at me, I honestly don't know. But obviously she saw and knew what I was doing. I next felt her weight added to the bed, my eyes suddenly popping open, my hand flying out from beneath my panties, the other suddenly reaching for my headphones yanking them off.

"What the fuck?" I literally screamed out, startled more than anything, and a bit embarrassed too perhaps.

Mom didn't say anything though in response to that. What she did instead was place her hand on one of my breasts, caressing it, and then leaned forward, drawing the other one into her mouth!

And all I could do was lay there, trying to sort this all out in my own head, though slowly ... and sure enough, succumbing to the sweet ecstasy I was now feeling. All these years, all this torment, all the private, dirty, naughty thoughts I had ever had about mom and me ... were suddenly being realized, in a way at least. But the fact was ... mom was sucking my tit, and it felt heavenly!

Eventually she did sit up however, though she kept one hand on my breast, slowly and tenderly caressing it, still gently and softly fingering the nipple. She too had made ready for bed, the simple sheer shift she very often wore, the only thing she had on at the moment. The light from the hallway back-lighting her just enough that I could see the silhouette of her body beneath it. The contours of her breasts, her stomach and the gentle slope of her back. I reached out with my own hand then, memories and images of a time long ago suddenly filling my head. I clasped her breast through the simple shift, cupping it, reveling in the sensation of doing so again after all these years. She moaned. And then I did, and then I sat up and rolled her over onto the bed.

She moaned softly again as I lifted up her shift, exposing her thighs first, surprised upon seeing the smoothness of her pussy, hairless which I hadn't realized until now. I gazed at her thighs, allowing my eyes to follow the undressing as I now revealed her near flawless breasts. Nipples much like my own, rosy-red, thick, protruding. She was obviously as aroused as I was. I scissored one of them with my fingers, just as she was still doing to me. I then drew in the other, sucking it eagerly, desperately, trying to devour it perhaps like a hungry infant. But her moans once more, telling me of the real pleasure I was giving her at the moment. My own moans in response to that as I groaned around her nipple now captured within my mouth, the sensation of her fingers, gentle ... yet urgent as they toyed, played and continued to finger my aroused, equally hard nipples. I traded back and forth then, paying homage to each one of my mother's breasts, and then slowly began licking, making my way down her delicate shivering form, lingering briefly at her naval, kissing and licking that. I felt her hands suddenly on my head however, lifting me away from her. Her eyes wide questioning, even as she spoke.

"Cindy..."

"Mom," I said in response to that, attempting to return, begin licking her again, but she held me in place.

"No ... wait, we ... we need talk, please Cindy ... please," she said urgently, desperately, sounding on the verge of tears now. Reluctantly I sat up, her hand only then moving away from my own breast, though mine remained on hers as I sat there looking down at her, still touching, but now smiling as she smiled back. "We ... we really shouldn't honey," she said trying to convince herself perhaps, but I wasn't having any of it ... not now.

"It's too late for that mother," I said once again trying to sound more adult, more formal again, more in control than she at the moment. "I'm not letting you get away this time, not ever again," I amended. I allowed my hand to now travel down where my tongue had been going, brushing her briefly, softly between the legs. I could feel her moisture seeping through, the dampness which greeted the mere tip of a finger as it slid through her furrow. She gasped, even raising her ass off the bed just a little, surprised at the sudden unexpected touch of my hand.

"I won't be able to say no after this, if we do this ... if I allow this," she said still holding on to one last desperate plea perhaps in getting me to rethink my own actions. But I knew then, there was no going back ... only forward.

"Then don't," I said simply, once again leaning forward, and this time, placing my tongue where my fingers had been.

Surprisingly, I had only seen my mother naked a handful of times. Usually when we'd both been in a hurry getting ready for work, once or twice laying on her bed watching her while she got ready for one of her "dates" talking to her, though purposely eyeing her, secretly enjoying myself. Fodder material for when masturbating later back then. But here I was now, looking at her nude body, or rather the depths of her cunt, something I hadn't seen. Not like this anyway. And the fact she was now shaved intrigued me. She hadn't before. The sight of her nicely trimmed little bush was what I recalled seeing. Not this. Not this almost prepubescent look that even I didn't entertain, having fashioned myself after mom's look. And now ... here we were, different again.