Anal

Author’s note: As a series that attempts to tell a story with a realistic pace and strong character development, much of the nuance can be missed if a reader skips previous chapters. Without further ado…

Also, a shout-out to PacoFear who has been an amazing editor on this series. Check out his stories and rate them 5’s… just cuz. They’re also really good 🙂

My daughter spying on me in the living room put a spring in my step the next day. Kaylee never said a word but I could tell it had affected her too. She looked at me differently and touched me more frequently during our usual routines around the house. My daughter was seeing me differently now. I was more than just a mom. I was another woman.

* * *

I swiped my vibrator across my aching pussy and shuddered, teetering on the brink of a fantastic morning orgasm.

My girl-girl masturbation sessions with my daughter’s friend Kristen were beyond fun and I wanted to push it further. I had let her go at her own pace and let her do the things she wanted, but she was still inexperienced.

For sensible reasons, raising a teenage daughter meant I wasn’t in the habit of bringing home any men. And for equally sensible reasons I wasn’t bringing home any of my very occasional lesbian flings, either. There were cravings that went unsatisfied for long periods of time.

In my fantasy, Kristen mounted me with a strap-on cock, pinned me to the mattress, and pounded me deeply, making me moan. I worked the vibrator in deep and let it buzz. God, there was nothing like fresh batteries.

I was so close. I let out a few cries and then bit my lip to keep myself quiet.

I imagined Kristen gripping my hips, her breasts swaying with each thrust, hair whipping to each side as she drove tirelessly. Oh God! It had been so long since I had a cock deep inside me, artificial or otherwise!

Just as the orgasm tore through me, there was a knock at the door and Kaylee, my eighteen-year-old daughter, bounded in.

Dammit! My orgasm sputtered and then popped. I struggled to keep my eyes open and watched, helpless, as my daughter skidded to a stop and gawked.

I yanked my comforter over my nude body, gritting my teeth through the last vestiges of a broken and dearly-needed climax.

“Mom! I, uh, I,” Kaylee stuttered, color draining from her face.

I was in worse shape. I merely blinked, unable to speak.

She inched back towards the door. “Maybe, uh, I should come back?”

I peeked my head over the mounded comforter and swallowed, my throat dry from panting and raw from the few guttural expletives that had escaped my lips.

“No, honey, wait,” I said before she disappeared behind the door. “It’s alright.”

Kaylee hesitated, her back to me and her hand already on the doorknob. “You sure? It’s totally cool. I can give you a sec and come back.”

Not having to meet her eyes gave me courage. “No. Really. It’s alright. What’s on your mind, honey?”

She shuffled to stand next to my bed, eyes downcast. Her cheeks, pale before, were now flushed with the red-pink of embarrassed youth.

“I didn’t just, uh, make that totally weird for you, did I?” Her voice was small and tight. She knelt next to the bed and propped herself up on the mattress with her elbows.

I reached for her hand and squeezed it.

“Maybe a little.” I gave her my sympathetic mom smile. “No harm done. I suppose you just saw in-person what we’ve talked about for a while now.”

“I guess you’re right,” she agreed. A smirk crept onto her face for a moment but she forced it back to a straight line.

“Not to get all up in your business, Mom, but does this mean that Kristen isn’t doing it for you anymore?”

“Kristen’s doing it just fine, hun.” I chuckled. “In fact, you’re laying in the place where she does it for me.”

“Ewww!” She leaned away from the bed. “You mean right here?”

It was impossible not to laugh.

“Many, many times. Your ballet friend is very talented. And flexible.”

Kaylee winced and her hands shot up to fend off the image.

“Don’t be so gross, Mom.” But interest showed in her eyes as they flicked up and down the bed.

“Suit yourself.” I yawned. “Mind if I put on some clothes so I can start my day?”

“Nope.” My daughter didn’t leave. Instead, she walked to the foot of the bed and set herself easily onto its edge straight-backed and poised, barely disturbing the bed sheets. Her delicate chin turned just a few degrees. It was her way of saying she was content to stay and talk while I dressed.

I never had Kaylee’s grace. That was a mixture of my mother’s good genes and Kaylee’s years of ballet study. I moved like a she-hulk compared to my daughter and we both knew it.

I sat up and planted my feet on the carpet, stretching shoulders tight from the awkward motions of masturbation. I hadn’t meant it as a show.

“Your back looks nice, Mom. Kickboxing really agrees with you.”

“Thanks, sweetie.” I stood up naked, with my back to her, and headed towards my closet.

“Whoa, really casino oyna agrees with you,” she muttered under her breath. A mom’s ears were sharp by necessity.

My rump looked pretty darn respectable for a gal pushing forty. I put a little extra wiggle in my hips on my way to the closet. Okay, now maybe that one was for show. Bad Mommy! “What was that, kiddo?”

Kaylee swallowed. “Nothing. Are we, uh, still on for shopping today?”

“Sure thing. As long as you aren’t too cool to hang out with your mom in public.”

I plucked my Saturday jeans out of my closet and turned sideways before stepping into them. Wiggling my backside at my daughter was one thing. Bending over and flashing her was another.

The denim was old and soft, making undies optional. The pants only got as far as my knees before Kaylee voiced her unsolicited opinion.

“Aww, not the Mom Jeans.”

It brought me up short. “What’s wrong with ’em? They’re my Luckys. They cost me over one-hundred bucks.”

“Yeah, like in 1998.”

“So?”

Kaylee’s nose wrinkled. “Bootcuts are so last decade. Don’t you have anything slim?”

I looked at my trusty but thoroughly faded pre-Y2K jeans. Maybe she had a point. “Want to help me pick out some new ones at the mall?”

I might as well have asked a Jehovah’s Witness to help me find Jesus. My daughter literally squealed. “Two pairs? And a top? Maybe some shoes, too? Some cute little flats?”

“Fine.” I continued tugging on my Luckys, trying not think about what my size eight feet would look like in the ballerina slippers my daughter would inevitably try to thrust upon me.

“Wait, what’re you doing?”

I was halfway through my well-practiced over-the-hips wriggle and I was getting grumpy. “Trying to put on these darn pants.”

“But don’t you want to look nice?”

Nice? For what? Fine dining at the mall was frozen yogurt and pretzels.

I read the pained look on my daughter’s face. Oh, right. At her age the mall was a social nexus. There were bound to be cute boys there. And hot girls. One of the downsides of being bisexual was that it doubled the target market.

I sighed. “You want to dress me, don’t you?”

Kaylee’s hands were wringing in her lap.

“Maybe I could help just a little? A teeny bit?”

Another sigh slipped out. “Fine, have at it.” Kaylee vibrated with so much energy and glee that I thought she might fall off the bed. “But nothing tacky. I’m a grown woman.”

I doubt Kaylee heard me in her rush to rummage through my dresser. She pillaged my underwear drawer until she found what she was looking for and, in a moment, she was standing next to me, a skimpy, bright-red pair of satin panties dangling from her fingertips.

“Red satin? For the mall?”

She nodded, grinning, then opened her mouth.

I beat her to it. “Wait. Don’t tell me. When you look marvelous, you feel marvelous, right?”

“Mahvelous,” Kaylee corrected. Damn you, Billy Crystal. “But close.” She knelt down and held the panties open. “Step.”

I was used to this by now. I usually served as a second pair of eyes as she tried new things on in front of me. I held back volunteering to watch her dress because the last thing I wanted to do was spook her. She had no qualms about volunteering herself, however, and recently she had taken to dressing me like this. It had only happened a few times so far.

“I thought you meant dress me. Not dress me.”

“I’m your whatchamacallit, your Waiting Lady. Like princesses have.”

“Lady in Waiting,” I said absently, although with Kaylee on her knees, pleading, and looking up at me like that made it difficult to think clearly.

It also didn’t help that, in the mirror behind her, I could see the way her skirt had ridden up. It showed the smooth, flawless underside where her legs rounded into her tiny ass. She was either wearing no underwear at all or she’d opted for a thong that morning. I pictured her naked, pulling the miniature wisp of fabric up her legs.

For a moment, just a moment, my own private Pandora’s Box was open and a worse image, an even more wicked one, slipped out — my own hand reaching down right at that moment to grip the back of my daughter’s slender neck and pull her face between my legs. Her surprise might make her resist at first but she’d understand. She’d interrupted my morning orgasm after all. In a way she owed me. Maybe just this one time, just this once, she could help her needy mommy. It was only fair.

“Earth to Mom. Stick your leg in.”

Rude reality flooded back in.

I shook my head to clear it as I stepped into the underwear, first one foot then the other.

“Turn,” Kaylee said gently.

I did, until we were both facing the full-length mirror in the closet. Kaylee was behind me and her eyes raked up my body in our reflection as she rose, sliding the shimmering panties up my legs. She hid a small smile behind my shoulder when the backs of her fingers traced up my buttocks then hit the waist.

Her hand smoothed across my lower belly slot oyna to settle the panties into place. My stomach knotted.

“Wait, right here.” She disappeared and reappeared in her silent way. “Next garment, milady.” She was holding an equally skimpy matching bra, the kind a woman wears for a lover ten minutes before it’s ripped off. I’d never worn it outside a bedroom.

I rolled my eyes. I hoped my sarcasm hid my arousal.

“His Lordship’s request,” she teased. “He called on me this morning and begged me to keep you from dressing like such a broken-down soccer mom all the time.”

“Kaylee!”

“Just playing, Mom. You dress nice,” she placated. “But maybe if you put in a little more effort, you’d get some real man-action back in your life.”

I realized my mouth was open before I closed it. “What exactly did you hear earlier?”

“Not a lot but enough. Something about cock.” She snickered, a hint of red in her cheeks. “I thought you were done when I came in.”

Kaylee tugged the bra into place, her fingers sliding down the sides of my breasts to smooth it also. Some things were beyond smoothing though. My nipples were stiff to the point of aching. It looked like I was trying to smuggle a pair of extra large gumdrops in my bra. More than a little embarrassing.

I thought about her explanation as she scampered off to dig through the dresser again and pulled out some tights. This wasn’t the first time she had spied on me. It began to dawn on me that I might have a serial voyeur on my hands. It figured. An apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

“Step.” Kaylee directed my sole into the foot of the stretchy fabric and she eased them upwards.

Her hands roamed my hips and the inside of my thighs, tugging and straightening the tights. She took her time, sliding her hands down my legs, floating between my thighs. Feeling her expert but delicate touch through the thin fabric made my legs feel more unsteady.

Kaylee hitched the tights up over my hips to my waist. Her fingertips lingered, spread across my ass. I watched her narrow-eyed gaze slide up and down my body in the mirror. It made my breath catch.

She chose a lacy pleated skirt and a patterned paneled one from my hangers next to us. She hung both of them against my body.

“This one.” I tapped one of her hands. The paneled skirt had a certain sophistication to it and I’d never liked the pleated one. It was pretty but it always felt a little too fancy for me. I bought it thinking that an occasion would come along that it would be perfect for. It never did.

Kaylee stepped back and eyed both carefully and then held up the pleated one.

“This shorter one would show the lady’s comely kickboxing legs to great advantage. Would she reconsider?”

The pleated skirt was totally Kaylee. She loved lacy things. I liked the idea of showing off my legs to all those cute guys and hot girls at the mall, though. A few admiring glances could do wonders for a girl’s self-image.

“Okay, but only because the phrase ‘comely kickboxing legs’ has never been uttered before in human history. Where do you come up with that stuff?”

Kaylee giggled. “You inspire me.” She tapped her lips with a fingertip. “Let’s see, tops.”

She chose a tight-fitting summer-weight sweater whose bright blue picked up a color in the skirt. She pursed her lips and stared at me, at the top, then back. I had no idea what she was thinking right up until she set the top down, stepped behind me, and cinched my bra two clips tighter. My breasts bulged out into distinct, noticeable cleavage and my breathing went from automatic to difficult.

We worked the clingy blue top on and I was still getting it situated while Kaylee dug a pair of strappy shoes from behind my sneaker collection, dusted them off, and snuck them onto my feet.

“There.” Kaylee stepped back to admire her handiwork. “Behold your own MILF-y goodness.”

“Whoa.” I spun this way and that. I felt femininity and sexiness creep back into my being. It was nice to wear something that showed me off a little. God knew I’d put the time in at the gym.

Kaylee rested her chin on my shoulder from behind, and looked pleased with herself in the way only teenage girls can. “Fair warning — you might get a few whistles at the mall from the guys.” One of her eyebrows lifted. “Probably from some of the girls, too.”

“That sounds kind of fun.”

She skipped out of my bedroom, but not before giving me a double pat on the butt. “Let’s go make ’em drool!”

A flurry of tiny footsteps later, I heard a telltale jingle. “I’ve got the keys, Mom! I need the driving practice!”

I looked at myself one last time in the mirror then followed, giddy. My bra was already starting to dig into my ribs, but it was worth it: my daughter had just called me a MILF.

* * *

The adult part of me understood the local mall was just an oversized Rubik’s cube made of stores that inflated their prices to cover their equally inflated rent. That adult part also noted, with dismay, that half a dozen canlı casino siteleri of those stores now had darkened windows. The sorry state of the economy was another decidedly grown-up subject.

For better or worse, my rapidly maturing daughter was immune to these concerns as she practically skipped from store window to store window, her small, near-feverish hand tugging me in a nonsensical zigzag pattern.

She was also immune, in a selective way, to the hungry looks cast our way by every post-pubescent male in the mall. Her selectivity was based on age; any one man past his mid-twenties didn’t register. It was if they simply weren’t there.

I saw them all, from the unblinking and distinctly predatory gazes of the boys her age to the more discreet double takes of their silver-haired elders. It was the way the older men eyed us both that interested me, the way they looked from my daughter to me, back to her, then me again. My guess was that more than a few of them were picturing themselves in the middle of a mother-daughter three-way.

It should have appalled me, but didn’t. Several times, I was struck by the image of Kaylee and I both naked, kneeling, taking turns worshiping the handsome admirer’s thick, hard cock before he urged us onto our backs, side-by-side, and fucked us in turn until we moaned our satisfaction. It brought a warmth to my cheeks that filled-in for the blush I hadn’t bothered with. I really needed to finish what I’d started that morning. I wasn’t thinking clearly.

As we munched on nachos in the food court my mind was still reeling with those ideas. It was so bad that, as we ate, I couldn’t help but stare as her hem inched up her crossed legs. That seemed to happen every time we sat down somewhere. I’d notice my eyes glued to her before I would tear them away. She never commented, however, seemingly oblivious behind her sunglasses each time I caught myself staring at her. Maybe she wasn’t looking at me from behind those glasses. More likely, she was drooling over unknown hunk behind me.

I was grateful when we finished shopping and we stepped out of the mall into the heat of the parking lot. It was one of those unusually hot days in June, a preview of what was to come over the next two months. The heat cleared my head.

On the way home, we decided to take advantage of our hot tub once it cooled down in the evening. We didn’t use it most of the year because I absolutely hated running between the house and the tub in cold, rainy weather.

Kaylee walked into my room and tossed her hot tub bikini onto the bed just as I ditched the skirt and tights ensemble.

“Mind if I dress in here? With you?”

It was rhetorical question. She didn’t wait for my answer.

She stepped in front of the mirror as I shimmied out of my tights and pulled off my skirt. Naked from the waist down, I looked up at her form in front of the mirror and I could see her peek at me over her shoulder through the mirror.

I smiled inwardly and turned, my backside facing her. I walked slowly, letting her take in what she wanted, and opened my window. A hot breeze wafted in, rustling the cheap Venetian blinds with a rhythmic thwapping. The breeze helped. Oregon humidity could be uncomfortable.

“Good idea, Mom. It’s way too hot in here.”

Kaylee admired herself in my mirror, as I watched, and then slowly pulled her skirt down. She inched it down the back of her legs to reveal her curves and the sculpted ball of her ass.

“I think I’m the one that is supposed to be jealous, kiddo. Girl, you got back,” I said as my breath caught.

“What’s back?”

I realized I’d just used a term from a song that she didn’t really grow up with.

“Ass. Sir Mix-A-Lot mean anything to you?”

“You really like dating yourself, don’t you?”

“I’m a single mom. I’ve been dating myself for years.”

Kaylee rolled her eyes but laughed at the same time. “You’re a goof.” She twisted in front of the mirror, trying to get a good look at her butt. “This booty better be primo. I’ve suffered through ballet long enough.”

She had. I’d lost count of the years. Was it ten? Twelve?

“You must drive the guys nuts at school,” I said softly as she sauntered over to the bed where she had laid her bikini. My kid was completely naked, smallish breasts swaying freely. I stared at her rump and her leg muscles rippling as she walked.

It took her a long moment to respond. “Not really.”

I blinked. I couldn’t imagine her being so clueless. “You didn’t see how many were staring at you in the mall?”

I shrugged out of my top and reached for my bikini top. Kaylee paused to watch me put it on.

“I saw a lot of them looking at you, Mom.” An expression crossed her face, unlike any I had seen before. It looked like a cocktail of jealousy, curiosity, arousal, and worry. “Did you want to have sex with any of them?”

“One or two. It’s been a long time since I had a good solid fuck.” There, I said it. Maybe it wasn’t what a mom should say, but she’d asked the question.

Kaylee’s stunned silence — no doubt reeling from her mom dropping the F-bomb — gave me time to finish putting my bikini top on and step into my bottoms. Almost enough time. I felt the smooth press of her young flesh against me and nearly jumped.

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