“Where did I come from, father?”
For eighteen years, the questions unanswered. The blank stare when I asked about her. The small hidden cache of her pictures. Her face blurred, indistinct. Plus…
…she never called. A mother who never, ever, contacted her daughter.
My father would never talk about her. But, a girl wants…no, NEEDS, to know about her mother.
I had become pretty good at guy things. And, I had a natural affinity for design and engineering, so naturally, I applied to some of the nation’s best architectural colleges, and was accepted at all, and even offered full scholarships at two. I had the brightest future.
But that’s when my father, a world-renowned architect, suffered a massive heart attack, and died, collapsing while overseeing construction of an office building in Dubai. He was the only parent I’d known. He’d never talked about my mother – I thought it strange, and people with more experience than I had would call it cruel.
About two weeks after the memorial service following his cremation, I heard the doorbell ring of our – I mean my – townhouse in Denver. Opening the door, I found a striking woman of about forty there. As I looked into her eyes, blue like mine, I knew instantly who it was.
“Yes?” I asked, already feeling a turmoil in my stomach.
“Kim, it’s me, Dana….your mother,” she said, an uncertain expression on her attractive face. I don’t suppose she expected the reception she got.
“Oh my god!” I exclaimed, and immediately threw up. She artfully dodged my, er upset, hesitated, then immediately took me in hand, closing the door behind me. “C’mon, young lady, let’s take care of you,” she said briskly, steering me towards the bathroom right off the hallway to the bedrooms. There, she cleaned me up and began fielding my thousand or so questions.
The first question – Why?
It seems that my father had divorced her for sleeping around on him.
“I won’t lie to you, Kim, I was a VERY bad wife – your father certainly didn’t deserve that. Our marriage WAS a mistake – with one exception – you. He had me legally cut off from ever seeing you, but I sent you letters every day. Did you ever see ANY of them?”
“No,” I said. “Dad wouldn’t talk about you – ever. What did you do that was so awful that he’d cut you off from me like that?”
“Well…”she began, a reluctant look on her face. She brushed away a lock of blonde hair from over her eyes. I almost felt as though I were looking at a copy of myself, only twenty years older. She took a deep breath.
“I discovered shortly after we were married that I, um, preferred women…”
“You’re a lesbian?” I said, surprised.
“Yes,” she said. I didn’t know what to say. I certainly hadn’t expected that I’d ever be hearing from my mother at all, much less that she preferred having sex with women over men.
“Oh,” was really all I could say. My upbringing had been very conservative. My father had sent me to private schools where such things were not talked about.
Our conversation went on from there. After all, regardless of the problems between her and my late father, I had to develop my own relationship with her as my mother. A relationship that had been so long delayed.
I begged her to stay the night. She agreed, reluctantly – “I hate to impose on you, baby, but I understand your questions and your curiosity.” We talked until about two in the morning, sharing a bottle of wine and a delivery pizza, then I showed her to dad’s room.
“I could just get a room at a hotel, or sleep on the couch…” she demurred.
“No, it’s fine. I’ve changed the sheets, it’s at least as good as a hotel.”
“Thank you, baby, I do appreciate it,” she said, giving in.
“Well, goodnight,” I said, and turned and walked down the hall to my room. I felt badly about not calling her ‘Mom’, or ‘Momma’, or really anything. And not at least beşiktaş escort hugging her. But there was nothing I could feel emotionally tying us together.
I slept restlessly through the night, and awoke about 9:30 the next morning, a Saturday. Wearing a pair of gym shorts and a bra, my usual sleep attire, I went to Dana’s room, and softly knocked on the door. Hearing no reply, I slowly opened the door, and saw that the bed, though obviously slept in, was empty, with the master bathroom door closed. I guessed that Dana was showering or using the toilet or whatever.
For some reason, I walked over to the side of the bed, attracted by what, I didn’t know at first.
As though an onlooker in a dream, I watched as I pulled back the coverlet of her bed, then the pastel floral top sheet, revealing the slightly wrinkled bottom sheet. I stared at it for a few minutes, not sure why I was there, but intensely curious nonetheless. I ran my hand over the sheet, feeling it to be damp. I bent down, my face coming within inches of the soft, cotton fabric.
The aroma of her feminine perfume wafted to my nose, the scent from her body wash had obviously carried over to the sheet. But there was something more. A warmer, intensely feminine, and damp fragrance underlaid the perfume. My nose touched the sheet, and I was surprised to find the sheet itself noticeably moist there, as a small tingle was birthed between my legs.
I pressed my face closer, the smell wondrous to me, one so used to masculine scents in my life. I knew my own scents, feminine to be sure, but this was somehow…different. The scent of another female, and I found it…exciting. I pressed my hands against the sheet, and then my cheek lay on the damp, finding it surprisingly warm to touch, as though she’d just left it. Left something of her body’s warmth behind. For me…
As though I had no control over my body, the tingle in my center growing more intense, and radiating, I pressed my body into the bed, sprawled over it on my stomach, sideways across the bed. My body craved more of the smell, and the warmth of her bed, pleasant emotions stirring inside me.
It was then that I felt two soft and gentle hands on my hips, at the hem of my shorts. I jerked with surprise, then felt Dana’s warm breath at my ear.
“I can’t tell you how often I’ve dreamed of seeing you again,” Dana’s voice whispered. “And now, touching you.” She paused. “I masturbated all night, thinking of you,” she whispered. Her hands stroked my back and shoulders, my body aching for a loving touch. It was a revelation to me how wonderful a woman’s hands could feel there. I moaned involuntarily, and writhed under her touch.
Her fingers readily unclasped my bra, and the cups loosened, freeing my small breasts to rub against the sheet. Then, to rub against her hands, as she slid her hands under me to cup my breasts, her thumb and forefinger expertly teasing and tweaking each nipple, jolts of electricity sparking through me to my pelvis as she pinched my sensitive pink nipples. Her hands were warm and soft, so gentle yet so exciting.
I didn’t want to stop her. I had ached for a mother’s love, and touch, for so long. I moaned, my body slowly undulating on her bed as I felt her hands caressing my nearly naked body. Her warm lips touched my smooth skin, again and again. My shoulders, then along my spine, brushing against the slight bumps there, shivers of pleasure coursing through me, all culminating at the same point between my thighs. I pressed my thighs together, anxious to alleviate the delicious unexpected ache I felt there. Fingers caressed my sides as Dana pleasured the center of my back, heading inexorably, lower.
My lower back, a smooth plain for her kisses, wetter and hotter now. Small groans escaping me, her soft giggle of agreement. Fingers intruding between the elastic band of taksim escort my shorts and my swelling hips. Sliding along the hem, an inch into my intimately hidden body, but no more. Groan of frustration.
“Go inside,” whispered against the damp, feminine musk scented sheet, now wetter from my saliva, drooled sloppily, excitement growing.
“Of course, baby,” the huskier, older voice said agreeably. The fingers slowly tugging at the fabric, drawing it over wide hips, full, round ass. Hips raised to allow the theft of modesty, a small, youthful grunt of desire. Cool air as heated ass flesh was exposed, felt most strongly in the damp, dark crevice between.
A quiet chuckle of appreciation, a fascinated voyeur. “Your bottom is so sweet, so lovely, baby,” her voice said. “I miss not cleaning it, and powdering it, and wrapping it in a warm, soft diaper.” A shiver of pleasure ran through me, I couldn’t stifle a loud groan. I could feel my wetness.
A warm glow of love in my center, apart from the desire – my mother touching and loving me. How long I had ached for it, not knowing but needing it nonetheless.
Her kisses continued, on my sensitive cheeks. Warm, moist lips touching warm, quivering ass flesh, electric shocks of pleasure generated from each touch. Moans of pleasure from my mother’s throat as she nuzzled my dark, musky crevice.
“No, no,” I moaned, but not meaning it at all. Relieved when she ignored my objection, her nose deeper into the heated damp of my ass. Questing tongue, rough and wet, flicking against the taut ring of my anus. Sparks shooting through my body to my clitoris, perceptibly swelling and hotter, then more sensitive. Her fingers went to my pussy, labia hot, wet and swollen, her fingers at first gentle as she ensured my wetness, then rougher, fiercer, thrusting first two, then three inside me.
My hips jerked with pain/pleasure. “Oooh!” then “Ohhhhh.” Then “Yesssss.” Then “Oh yesss, please deeper…harder….fuck me.” Her throaty chuckle, then her tongue fucking into my relaxed ass hole as her fingers fuck into my pussy. Her sweet tongue, hot where it touches me…cool when it passes on. Lapping at my tight hole, muscle slowly relaxing as her tongue sweet talks me into showing my secrets to her delighted eyes.
“So sweet, baby,” she coos. “Your sweet little brown hole…it smells so good to me….and your beautiful pink inside….wet and fragrant, I must taste you deeply….”, thrusting tongue deep inside my ass. No one had ever touched me there. Now my mother was enthusiastically lapping at my ass hole, and I was making no move to stop her, though my face was bright red and hot, whether with embarrassment or excitement, I couldn’t have said.
“Mmmm,” she moaned, still licking my anus. Then halting, she said, “And look at this sweet, ripe peach just below it…so juicy and ready to eat. Oh, I must, I can’t stop myself…sweet baby, please indulge me this small thing…”
I was wildly excited, but confused. Was it right for a mother to be doing these things to me? My friends had never talked about their mothers licking their asses – was it just so common that they didn’t bother talking about it? That couldn’t be it.
Perhaps it only happened sometimes, and not yet to my friends? Oh, the pleasure they WOULD feel when THEIR mothers licked them there! I would HAVE to tell them of this miraculous pleasure…
Then my mother’s tongue began stroking my labia, and into my slit, wetting it. Oh my! Streams of pleasure coursed through me, and into my clitoris. I could feel it swelling with pleasure.
“Ohhh….so good,” I moaned.
“Yes, baby,” Dana-my mother-whispered, her touch warm and so loving to me.
“Just wait there a moment, baby,” she whispered, leaving me. I heard her walk to the bathroom, then return.
“I think you’re going to love this, baby,” she said, nişantaşı escort sitting next to me on the bed, her full hips warm against mine. Then I felt something hard at the opening of my vagina, slowly pressing inside.
“No….stop, please,” I moaned, alarmed. She reached down to my clit, then began stroking me there, softly and rhythmically, and I quickly forgot about objecting.
“It’s alright, baby,” she cooed, as she stroked my pussy, slowly inserting the object. The combination of her stroking my clit, and my getting used to the feel of a long object in my pussy, began to contribute to an intense feeling of pleasure. Subtle at first, the sensations almost seemed to fill my clit, like water in a balloon. As she stroked the long, smooth object in and out of my rather wet pussy, and strummed my swelling clit, the feeling soon became overwhelming. I felt rushes of pleasure, like waves on a beach, washing over me, each stronger than the one preceding it.
My moans became shrieks of pleasure as my body buzzed and spasmed with what I learned was my first orgasm. Dana giggled as I came under her touch, her fingers wet with my copious feminine cream, dripping onto the bed, and smelling much like the fragrance that had brought me to that spot in the first place. I thought about that similarity, as I came down from the high of the lust she had incited, then brought to fruition.
I had little time for rest, though, as I felt the now slimy object pressed against the cleft of my asshole, wet from Dana’s avid licking, and somewhat open to her continued assault. “Unnh,” I grunted, protesting the large-feeling object invading my much smaller rear hole. Simultaneously, her hand insinuated itself under my hip, seeking out my clit, which she began alternately both caressing and pinching.
“I don’t think I-” I began, but as she relentlessly fucked into my ass, my objections slowly ceased. A peculiar tingle grew inside me, born of the physical sensations of being ass fucked, my tender flesh being ruthlessly ripped asunder, and of course the teasing and torturing of my hot and swollen clitoris, but even more, from the emotional cataclysm of the thought of my mother being the assailant delightedly fucking my ass.
As exciting and overwhelming as that first orgasm had been, it couldn’t match the ecstasy that tore through me a second time as I came under my mother’s intimate touch. “Oh god, yes, yes, yessss! I’m cumming, cumming, fuck me….please, fuck my holes….hard…so hard…” I became a mindless receptacle of lesbian pleasure, delighting in a woman’s sexual domination of my body and mind. I suppose I passed out from the surfeit of pleasures.
Then I felt, rather than heard her get up from the bed. I could barely hear her whispered voice as I dozed.
“I’m so, so sorry, baby. I never should have come here, and infected you with my horrible nature….your father was right. I guess I thought blood might call to blood, that you might want to call me ‘Momma’ some day….”
I heard the knob of the bedroom door turning.
“Wait,” I said, rousing. She stopped.
I slowly rolled over on my back, clear feminine liquid oozing down my inner thighs, my body naked as a baby’s. I could feel both my cunt and asshole still wide open, empty, both oozing my hot juices. I looked up at Dana, seeing her for the first time that morning, wearing just a bath towel tied around her slim body, barely covering her perky, full breasts, and teasingly ending just a few inches down her upper thighs, nearly covering her bare mound.
I saw her idly sniffing my hairbrush she had taken from the bathroom, its long, smooth handle glistening with both the cream from my pussy, and the juices from my subsequent ass fucking. She looked abashed, but curious.
I hesitated for the longest time, then looked up at her, smiled lazily, spread my legs wide and said, “Come and get some of your baby’s hot little pussy, Momma.”
She smiled, leaned down and whispered in my ear. “Blood always calls to blood, baby,” as she began stripping off her bath towel.
And over the rest of that day I learned all about where I came from, up close and personal….so wonderfully pink, hot and wet, and fragrant…and so deliciously tasty.