Joan woke up and checked the time. 3 am. Susan slept curled under her arm,
their legs spooned up together like--well, like lovers. Images of last
night's love making filled her mind, and then shame rose up from her belly
like a fever.
Oh god.
What had she done?
Joan slipped out of bed as carefully as she could and made her way to the
bathroom. She sat down on the toilet to pee, and held herself, rocking,
tears rising up, and the heat of shame literally making her skin crawl. Why
had she done this? Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. She had had sex with Susan. How
could she face her in the morning? This was wrong, wrong, wrong. Then, a
memory of Susan's smile as she looked down at her mother's pussy.
Susan will be damaged. They must never speak of this. The taste of Susan's
pussy in her mouth, the insistence of her clit under her tongue. Joan
shivered, wiped herself-- oh God, she's still so wet--stood up and looked
at herself in the mirror.
"You have had sex with your daughter. You are a pervert. You've violated
her," she said to bleary-eyed self. And as she heard herself say these
self-incriminating words she did not truly believe, her imagination was
overwhelmed with the memories. The intensity of her fingers deep in her
daughter's vagina, how her nipples stayed hard in her mouth, and the joy of
her cries when she came. She came. Susan came from her touch.
Now she was getting cold. Should she go back to bed? Maybe she should sleep
on the couch? Oh! the couch, where they first kissed...
Despite Joan's care, Susan had awoken just as her mother slipped from their
warm sheets. It took her a few seconds to realize she was in mom's
room. And what they had done. She had had sex with her mom. And it was so
hot. Susan's body immediately warmed with excitement as the details became
clear of where she was and what they had done. Her memories flooded with
the sight of her mother's dark eyes, and her full breasts, the feel of her
clit under Susan's finger, the sounds of her mother's whispers in her
ears. She trembled under the sheets as a bolt of excitement shot through
her. She turned and put her arms into the empty place where Joan had lain,
and waited for her to return to bed.
By the time Joan returned, Susan had fallen asleep again, but she woke
enough to open her arms, and pull Joan toward her. Susan slid her legs
between her mother's to hold her close, then closer. She felt that Joan
may have pulled back just slightly, but Susan pulled naked warm body close
to warm Joan's chilly skin. Holding her tight against her, she felt Joan
shudder, and then gasp as she began to cry.
"Mom, what's wrong?" "Oh Susan, what have we done? How could I have done
this?" she whispered desperately. "Shhhh, shhh, Mom, don't worry." Susan
was shocked that her mother would be feeling responsible for anything. Not
only did she feel ecstatic to have made love with her mother, but she felt
that she had seduced her mom herself.
Joan sobbed into Susan's neck, saying something that Susan couldn't
understand.
"Shhhh, shhh, Mom, it's ok. I'm ok." Susan kissed her lips, and kissed her
tears. They looked into each other's eyes in the dim light. Susan kissed
her face, saying, "It's ok," "Don't worry," and "I love you, I love you,"
over and over. Susan gave her mother consoling kisses on her face, on her
throat. Joan's protests ceased. Susan cupped her mother's breast, and
then slid down her body so that she could suck it.
She held her mother's breasts in her hands, and nursed. Just nursed. Joan
stopped crying.
Joan held Susan's head, her fingers entwined in her hair, and she wiped
away the last of her tears.
"Oh baby girl," she said, looking down as Susan sucked, and nursed, with
intensity, at her nipple. Susan stroked Joan's back and settled in to a
rhythmic quiet sucking, and Joan relaxed into the pleasure of holding her
girl again, being alone in bed with her, comfortable, warm, and surrounded
in a bubble of love. Susan continued to nurse, and Joan dozed. She dreamed
of other mothers who made love with their daughters. Of mothers and
daughters who were lovers in every nation, speaking every language, today,
right now, and going back to the beginning of history.
Joan shifted a little, holding Susan closer, and Susan turned so that she
sucked on Joan's other nipple, and settled again into a rhythmic nursing,
nursing nursing, opening and closing her jaw so that Joan's entire areola
was surrounded by her lips. Joan fell back into a dream of mothers and
daughters making love everywhere, a secret circle of love and pleasure,
where mothers and daughters shared in an unending chain of life, and sex,
motherhood and daughterhood melding into complete womanhood where life
force and sexual energy flow from vulva to vulva, over and over, healing
and strong, down through the generations. A chain of love, sex, and
vulnerability binding women generation after generation.
Why is this a taboo? Why do not mothers and daughters share their bodies
and their sexual desire as they share grooming, and cooking, and the other
household arts? Who would be harmed by this? It is not as if Joan had
preyed upon a child who did not know herself. Now that Susan was grown,
with lovers of her own, what harm could there be in being lovers with her
mother?
Oh girl, Joan thought. You have taught me so much. Susan continued to
nurse, and Joan dreamed of many faces of mothers and daughters throughout
history. She saw them all, all kinds of faces buried in each other's
pussies, all shapes of women, all colors of skin, in the simplest of huts
to the grandest palaces, all of them making love. Mothers and daughters
open to each other, rising in sexual excitement together, coming into each
other's mouths and knowing the ecstasy of sexual love between women who
could be no closer.
Who would this harm? Why would this be a taboo? Who would make this a sin
and a crime?
As Joan dozed, and dreamed, Susan nursed, and became more and more aware of
the excitement that was building inside her the longer she nursed. Joan
stroked her shoulders slowly and lovingly, and Susan moved her hands around
her mother's body, until her hand moved around her mother's ass, and then
inside her legs. As she nursed, she lightly touched her mother's
vulva. Susan began pulling harder on Joan's nipple, and Joan opened her
legs slightly. Susan's fingers pushed in further, touching her mother's
wetness. Her lips parted, and Susan stroked between them, pressing against
the opening of her mother's vagina.
Joan's mind separated from the reverie of mothers and daughters as she felt
Susan's fingers begin to slowly fuck her. She opened her legs more and
Susan began to fuck her deeper and faster as she sucked more sexually on
her nipples, moving back and forth between them. Joan moaned, "Oh baby, oh,
Susan, fuck me. Oh, I love you, fuck me, Susan. I want it. I need it. "
Susan pulled herself up to her mother's mouth, and continued her powerful
fucking of her mother's pussy with her long, strong fingers.
"Mother I can't stop. I need to fuck you, Mom. Oh Mom, you are so beautiful
and sexy. She fucked Joan harder, pressing up against the inside of her
clit. Joan pulled up her legs, fully open to her daughter's lustful
hand. She bore down against her daughter's pounding with her entire body,
knowing nothing but the pleasure of the hand stroking her with all of her
love and strength.
"Oh, oh Susan, I love you," she said, and came in a throbbing arch of joy,
pleasure, and relief, spending out small squirts of her fluids into her
daughter's hand.
After the release, Susan, returned to nursing on her mother's breasts, her
fingers still cupped around Joan's vulva. Joan wrapped her arms around her,
and soon they both slept, any taint of shame purified by the power of their
love.
