Have you ever stood by your car on a bright early autumn afternoon, and gazed round that the assembled mums and grannies waiting for their little Johnnies and Janes to tumble out of school, and wondered, which are the perverts?
It's hard to think of any of these nicely made-up faces being cum sluts, stuffed full of rock hard cock and begging to be splashed with hot spunk over their lipstick sweet mouths. It's hard to form a picture of them hitching their prim skirts up; stretching their arse cheeks wide open so they can take it up the arse. It's hard to look beneath the neat floral dresses and casual track suit bottoms, past the pleasant suburban good manners, and spot the submissives with clothes pegs pinching their stiff nipples and weights dangling from the rings in their cunt lips. Hard, sure, but jolly amusing. Especially when you're in the good company of your dirty minded mate, who keeps nudging you with her elbow to finger another likely candidate.
"What about Joanne Braithwaite" hisses Lindsey, as she nods indiscreetly at a slight framed redhead. "I bet she does it 'cos her husband tells her too."
Joanne, a largely attractive woman, marred only by a pointy chin, the smell of smoke, and inch high self-esteem, looks around aimlessly. She tries to affect a sophisticated air, in that way smokers like to pose artfully with their cigarettes, and on seeing us watch her, switches on a sweet shy smile. It is all Lindsey and I could do to keep straight faces and smirk back. Joanne is so blissfully unaware of our speculation that she tongues the pussy of her ten-year-old daughter at her bully-husband's command.
Not that we float such ideas lightly. We're not bitches.
Well, OK, we probably are bitches; but still, we have a theory. For incest, we think the key indicators are the three Vs: Violet, Victim, or Vulgar.
The violet ones either can't do their kids, but want to and punish their kids for being temptresses. Or, they do "do it" and, feeling guilty, still punish their kids for being sluts. Not nice.
The victims are denied love by their brutalisers, and they are either forced to do it, or do it to snatch some love from those that they can dominate. Sad.
Finally, the vulgars, like Lindsey and me, do it because we've done everything else, and with each new taboo crossed, we're hungry to challenge the next: Sleep with another woman. Sleep with your sister. Sleep with your daughter. Each is a step into delightful depravity.
"Oh look" I blurt, and give Lindsey a sharp elbow back, " J a n e S a n d e r s o n, mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm" I simper. Jane has the waist of a stick insect, the face of a Goddess, and the perkiest C cups in known history. "I'd sell my kids into slavery and my soul to the Devil to worship at her pussy ... actually I'd sell your kids too, if only she'd fancy me".
"WhooWaa, Emily old girl, steady on" Lindsey teases. "Firstly, your forgetting that there is no God, so no woman could be that beautiful, that close to us AND be bi. Secondly, you KNOW she uses throwing-up as part of her calorie-controlled diet. Thirdly, we're meant to be eyeing up a mum and daughter for our boys, and she only has a boy. And fourthly," Lindsey jabs me back, "she'd go for the shorter, buster woman, rather than the tall flat-chested type".
Lindsey swings her shorter, buster frame in an alluring girlie pout, to demonstrate her natural appeal. I look down my nose, past my flat-chest and childishly poke my tongue out ... Jane catches sight of us being silly, and walks past with a slight tut-tut on her face.
"Oh, now look" a smiling Lindsey points with her eyes, "wouldn't Rose Sam be nice ... mmmm, yum, ... I seem to have redheads on the brain today", as another pert-chested redhead with a slim waist, if big botty, strolls gracefully by, nodding a hello at us.
"Oh no, no, no" I sniff, "horses". Lindsey looks at me. "Horses", I repeat, "she's got three stallions, each with cocks bigger than a muscular bloke's forearm, so what would she do with teeny-weeny little boy cocks?"
"Excuse me" a startling Samish voice intrudes. "Hello Emily, sorry to interrupt, but I was wondering if you could possibly do me a favour and take Ellis home. Only I've got to go and visit my mum in the nursing home, and Ellis gets upset, what with her Gran not recognising her anymore."
Cheryl Cocker babbles on a bit more ... well a lot more actually. She has an attrition policy when it comes to asking favours. She keeps on talking till, warn down, you agree, and then she carries on for a bit longer just to make you repeat your agreement more forcefully.
Lindsey listens wrapped in the whole soap-opera drama of Cheryl's convoluted affairs. But I'm not really listening. After getting over the surprise, and hoping that the whole horsy-boy-cock conversation thing hasn't been overheard, I'm making reassuring eyes at two deep green eyes staring back up at me from under Cheryl's embracing arm.
Ellis often scrabbles over the back fence that joins the back of our houses to play with Laura and Jack. A good-natured, if pliant girl, she was usually the willing plaything in Laura's games. Though she's spent more time with Jack lately, as Laura's teenage attention had shifted to more grown up delights.
Eleven and a half, as she always insists, she looks set to blossom into womanhood, yet still retains those charming childish features. So her hard round button breasts, already larger than my own, still look artificially stuck on, as if she's borrowing them to try them out, see how they feel. They're much too grown up boobs for her childish belly, small hips, and boyish botty.
Her face, flecked with darling freckles, is still girlie round, but has such full red lips for one so young. And sleepy, green, come-to-bed eyes dazzle you from under her tomboyish mop of short straight bright ginger hair.
"Emily!" Cheryl repeats.
"Oh, yes, sure, fine, OK" I splutter. "Come here darling" I reach out for Ellis, "we'll see if we can't keep you amused."
Cheryl leaves with a cloud of thank yous, and our boys turn up.
"So" I manage to whisper to Lindsey as she pushes her boys into the back of her car, "we managed to get a redhead after all".
"Is Ellis staying for tea?" my little Jack enquires, much in the same way as you might say, "Are we going to eat with that leper?"
"Yeap, so you can all play together." Jack looks appalled ... forced to play with a girl, yuck!
Lindsey follows me home (it's my turn to do tea - we do it once a week now, taking turns - it helps lighten the chore - when it's not your turn). The four kids elephant foot their way up to Jack's bedroom and begin arguing immediately. For a micro second I thought what I was going to cook for tea, and made an executive decision to ring for a take-out later.
Settling ourselves with drinks on sunloungers in the late afternoon sunshine, we relaxed back into the easy life. In the windows above we could hear the happy sound of children squabbling over Jack's playstation. I nearly shouted up to them to pipe down ... but I couldn't be bothered.
"I still think we'd get something out of Rose Sam" Lindsey was saying, half daydreaming. "She's a beauty and that little girl of hers is cute ... I wonder if mummy lets her play with the horses!" I 'mmmmmm' a vague agreement, but felt quite dopey under the warm sun and cool gin. Luckily Lindsey can twitter-on for Britain unaided by a second person in the conversation.
So the afternoon drifts by. Lindsey slowly develops her thoughts on Rose and her daughter (called Lucy we think) into a whole stable-girl orgy concept, and gets up and replaces the first gin and tonic with another.
Ellis appears, asking if she can watch TV.
"Aren't the boys playing nice?"
"Dylan and Finny are playing on the computer, and Jack reading a comic."
"Oh, OK then ... actually, could you just get me the bottle of sun-cream first".
I wiggle out of my belly-tee-shirt. I pop the clasp on the front of my bra, and let my tanned little titties feel the warm autumn sunshine.
Lindsey watches with jealous eyes as I lie on my tummy and get Ellis to rub the sun-cream across my shoulders and down my back. She carefully wipes my long blonde hair to one side. Her bony little fingers dig into my yielding flesh, to firmly grind the cream into my skin.
She has the touch, and a long quite "mmmmmmm" slips from my mouth. She runs her hands along my sides, not hesitating to firmly press the soft fleshy sides of my breasts against my ribs. She makes me feel like a big marshmallow; soft but firm outside, and mush inside. She moves down to my feet, and takes my sandals off. She works on my feet diligently, fingering each toe carefully, rubbing my souls and ankles oh so tenderly, I only just survive the tickling sensation.
Slowly, steadily, she works her hands up the backs of my legs. It feels heavenly. She pulls up my short denim skirt over my bum, so she can in sun-cream all the way up to my white panty briefs (God, I hope they're clean). Again, without hesitating, Ellis moves her small hands up to the elastic of my knickers, and rubs down between my inner thighs, which I openly a little.
The sides of her hands touch the stretched cotton mound covering my womanhood. Her touch stabs me with such deep intense pleasure. I hope that no wetness was showing, for her innocent diligence is soooo arousing.
To hide any leaks, I roll over on to my back, and without being asked Ellis continues to rub sun-cream into the firm pale skin of my front. I watch Lindsey, who was now standing, unbutton her dark green silk blouse, and slowly strip off down to her panties. Ellis, who'd been silent in concentration for several minutes, suddenly spoke as her hands made creamy circles over my breasts.
"My Daddy says you're a hot bitch." The comment, out of the blue, hangs gasping for a suitable reply. But before either of us think of anything, she continues, "He says he'd like to give you one. He often watches from my bedroom when you're sunbathing". She nods in the direction of her bedroom, the only window to overlook my back garden.
I try and suppress a little giggle, as the matter-of-factual way she comments on her father's secretist, hottest, desire seems comical. "Are you there when he's watching?" I tentatively venture.
"Sometimes."
"What does he do, when he watches? Does he touch himself?"
Ellis silently nods a yes, and continues to circle my breasts with her creamy little hands. She avoids my erect nipples, which drives me crazy.
"Do you help him?"
Ellis nods again.
"Do you rub his willy for him. Does he like that?"
Ellis nods vigorously. She seems both happy to confess and on the point of fleeing in a daze of blushes. So she sits perfectly still, avoiding my eyes, aimlessly massaging my titties as I quiz her.
"Does he ever ask you to put his willy in your mouth?"
The eleven-year-olds cheeks burn red, but she still nods her head.
"Don't you like it when he does that?"
"It's OK" she replies ambivalently, "but sometimes he sticks it in too far and I think I'm going to be sick. And sometimes he grabs the back of my head and forces it into my mouth, and it's too big for me. And he gets all excited and says lots of nasty words."
"What sort of words" Lindsey buts in (and I give her a 'that's not very helpful' cross stare), but you can't blame her for letting excitment get the better of judgment.
Ellis turns and is startled for a moment by the sight of Lindsey's heavy naked breasts hanging close to her face. She hadn't noticed Lindsey stripping off in the sun.
"Er, he says things like," (she tries to drop her voice to mimic her daddy - badly) "'Go on Emily, open your fucking legs' and 'show us your cunt, bitch' and also [trying to make her voice gruff] 'OK pussy slut, let's see you eat Laura's cunt clean' ... stuff like that".
"Oh, your daddy's so bad, isn't he" Lindsey can't help smirking. I give her a 'be serious' look.
"Do you rub cream on your mummy?" I ask, trying to get her attention back. Ellis nods again.
"Does your mummy like it?"
"Oh yes!" she says brightly, "she calls me her special darling plaything. SHE says I have lovely hands"
"Oh, you do, Ellis, you do." I agree. "Does your daddy like to watch you with mummy?"
"Yes. He likes it when I touch mummy. He makes a mess with his willy very quickly when I rub mummy."
"And what about you, what do you think?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, your daddy likes to watch me, and he likes to watch you rub cream into your mummy - and your mummy likes that. But what do you like, who to you like to play with?"
Ellis pauses, and looks at me, judging if she can trust me with her secrets. "You" she blurts. "I think you're the most beautiful woman I know" she rattles off in a panic.
"Oh" I say (thank God for a post-graduate education, I'd be completely inarticulate without it)
Ellis lets her words settle, and idly plays with the long strands of my hair. "I wish I had beautiful long hair like yours." she mentions, in a girlish attempt to change the subject.
Now all this wasn't what I'd meant at all. I'd been trying to tease from Ellis her naughty secrets, to set her up for a bit of naughty play with our boys - only to find that she had a different agenda. What was a bit galling is that I had no idea that Ellis had "a thing" about me.
I'm a teacher, and probably half the boys and a quarter of the girls have fantasies about me, and a significant number go through the full head-over-heals teenage infatuation thing with me. It's just something you have to deal with (or have some naughty adventures with, if you (a) like them and (b) trust them). But I obviously hadn't been paying attention to Ellis.
"Come cuddle me, Ellis." I decide to explain things to her. I have this little speech about how it's natural ... how friendship is ... blah blah.
I make room on the sunlounger and the girl snuggles down beside me. I wrap an arm around her, folding her skinny body into mine. The fabric of her blue school uniform, which clashes so badly with her bright ginger hair, rumples up against my naked skin. She snakes her own thin arm round my bare waist, to return the cuddle, and press herself tight against me. I don't really want it to, but it feels really nice.
Lindsey, naked but for her rather fetching black high-cut silk panties, silently mimes that she is going to go upstairs and tiptoes ... breasts swaying ... off. She leaves us to be alone together. I appreciate her gesture, as I know my mate Lindsey would like nothing better than to squeeze up along side us and join in any naughty fun.
The sun shines down on the two of us, still, silent, in each other's arms. I wonder if Ellis' dad is watching. I imagine him thrashing his hard cock, begging me to touch his little girl. I imagine teasing him as I slowly stroke my hand across the back of his beautiful child.
Ellis nestles her head in my neck, quite passive, quite calm. Though as I comb my fingers thorough her soft short hair, I think she must be aware of how excited she is making me. How her soft rhythmic breath feels hotter on the top of my shoulder blades than the hottest rays of the brilliant late afternoon sun.
"Does your mummy ever tell you how pretty you are?" I whisper, my voice breaking slightly as an unwelcome but undeniable lump of desire forms in my throat. She shuffles a little to lift her head up and look at me. Her big green eyes melt my own. I want to reach down and press my lips against her lips. I want to slip my tongue into her mouth. But she snuggles back down, this time with her head a little lower, resting on the top of my chest.
I know she is looking down at my naked breasts. I can feel her breath on my aching nipple. I wish she'd lean down further and take that nipple into her mouth.
I wish she'd make the first move and take the responsibility away from me. I wish she'd prove that she was a willing victim in her seduction. But she's just a young girl, inexperienced in the ways of love and lust.
I place a hand on the back of Ellis' head and pull it back from my body. I lean into her face and whisper, "you are pretty, my young beauty, very very pretty" and then kiss her a soft dry kiss.
She neither rejects nor accepts the kiss, but keeps her face bent up towards mine. My lips quiver and tingle as I kiss her again, longer, harder. This time I feel her lips pucker and press back against mine. The kiss makes me giddy. I roll on top of her, enveloping her, swallowing her small body under mine, as I push my tongue between her lips and explore the inside of her hot mouth.
Ellis softly sighs, perhaps from the kiss, perhaps from the weight on me pressing down on her small thin body. I kiss her again, hotly, pushing my tongue to the back of her throat, my long blonde hair cascading around her head.
She sucks on my tongue, wrestling it around her mouth as our tongues fence. We break for a pant of air and she darts her head down to clasp her mouth around my hanging left breast. The pinch of her mouth on my stiff nipple charges me with such extreme pleasure, and in that moment of ecstasy, I wet myself.
In horror and blushed shame I realise that I've peed in my panties. I quickly examine myself, glad to find that it feels more than it actually is, and that our thighs aren't soaked in my wee - though I feel my knickers are very wet. Through all this discreet self-examination, Ellis remains firmly clapped to my breast, suckling at me like a small child. She takes advantage of my imbalance to roll me off her.
Ellis mounts me, and raising her face from my chest, sits on my tummy, beaming down at me, grinning from ear-to-ear, her eyes gleaming.
"I think you're so lovely, Emily" she sought of sings, "I think you're the loveliest woman I've EVER known". She states empathetically.
"But there are so many women you don't know, my darling" I reply softly, and place my hands under the hem of her regulation blue school uniform sweatshirt, to touch her bare waist underneath. I pinch her waist slightly, and she giggles with the tickle of my touch. Slowly, but inexorably, I move my hands up under her sweatshirt.
I know where my hands are going, and so does she, but when my fingers bump into the underside of her lyrca bra, it shocks us both. We pause for a moment, looking directly into each other's eyes. And then millimetre by tiny millimetre, I move my fingertips up and over the swelling of her pointy A cup breasts.
Her chest expands as the pleasure coming from her breasts makes her catch her breath. The lyrca is smooth and oh so firm and tight against her perky little tits. My fingers wonder up to her nipples, and Ellis lets a little "aghhh" escape. Her nipples are like soft stones behind the straining lyrca. I brush my fingers up the underside of both nipples, and then down the overside, before gently, almost imperceptibly, pinching them.
"Oooooooh, agh, oh Emmmmm" she sighs without finishing my name. She lets herself go slightly, her body falling into my hands. I hold her up by her cupped breasts, which I squeeze, and force out another long sigh from the child-woman.
In one clumsy but quick move she pulls her sweatshirt up over her head. It catches on her cute button nose, but a quick tug pulls it free. My hands are still cupped to her breasts. Her bra is black, a much more attractive colour against her ginger hair.
"You need a bigger bra, darling" I observe, seeing her tits bulging out from being pressed in too tight. "You're still growing".
"It's my period soon" Ellis remarks without a blush, "they're always bigger before my period."
"Are they very sensitive now, mine get quite tender just before my period."
"No." Ellis replies, "they're just nice when you're touching them," and she cups my hands in her own, and squeezes them so that they in turn squeeze her breasts. Reaching behind she unhooks the clasp of her dinky little bra and tosses it to ground.
"Oh my God Ellis, you are a fresh young jewel" I gasp, admiring the firm small breasts of the pretty tomboy sitting topless on my tummy. They stick out so impossibly pertly they definitely look stuck on, with tall high nipples thrust up, pointing at the sky. They know nothing of gravity.
For a moment I feel very old, trying to remember if my own small titties were ever that perky. But the thought is lost as Ellis lays down across my chest, tits touching tits, and places her small but full juicy lips on mine.
She kisses me this time, and I am lost in her kisses. Without thought or time, I exist only in the pleasure of a young girl's infatuated lesbian kissing. Behind her probing small tongue there is a wave of desire that overcomes us both. She kisses like she is gasping for oxygen - the oxygen of love.
Had she been a strong young man, she would have pulled my tongue from my mouth - but as a sweat young girl struggling with her first experience of lust, she kisses with a power that leaves me breathless. And I don't think of her as an eleven-year-old, and I don't think of her as my neighbour's little girl, and I don't think of her as child.
I just am a kisser - kissing - kissed.
Ellis jumps from my mouth, her eyes wild, her breath short, her little pointy titties heaving up and down above me. And I realise that I have my hand up between her legs, up under her prim navy school skirt. Her legs are wide apart to straddle my waist, and I have my hand there, cupping the small soft mound of her childish womanhood, her vulva, her pussy, her cunt.
I'm touching soft stretched cotton, and it feels hot, almost burning. And looking straight into my eyes, the child pushes her narrow hips down, and wipes my hand with her pussy, and pulls her hips back and wipes her pussy back. I hold my hand steady, firm, so she rides up to my finger tips, down through the hollow of the palm of my hand, and back up to into my bony wrist. Forwards and backwards, she rides my hand. Forwards and backwards, her eyes shine with pleasure. She dry humps my hand, almost like a dog tries to fuck your leg. Except that my hand is now slippery from her wet knickers.
Ellis presses herself against my (aching) hand and rocks - almost as if she was rocking herself to sleep - but instead of sleep her eyes half close and her whole body shivers.
"Ellis darling, you're so beautiful" I coo. "You're such a pretty girl"
"Oh Emily" the girl gushes, "Oh Emily ... Oh ... you make me feel so ... you make me..."
My hand hurts like buggery, but I don't care. Ellis is in the palm of my hand. She's going to cum scraping her little pussy against me. I want to brush the wet thin fabric away from her. I want to slip my fingers into her wet pussy. But this isn't about me. It's about a young girl becoming a young woman and demanding that her lover give her gift of an orgasm.
And Ellis bucks and whimpers and shivers and shakes and cums in hot rolling, rocking waves, till her thighs can't hold her up any more, and they clamp shut around my hand, to stop me from stimulating her anymore.
Flopping onto my chest, her arms hugging my shoulders, panting, I have a chance to slip my numb hand out from under her. I flick my wrist a few times - ouch! Those pins and needles. But I feel so light-hearted.
I roll the half-hazed child off my front, so we can be together, side-by-side. I lean across to plant my lips tenderly on hers, when, opening my eyes, I see an audience.
At the French windows stands Cheryl, Ellis' mum. She stares in silence, her eyes flicking between her half-naked daughter, and her half-naked neighbour. Her mouth open - not speechless, but with much too much to say, yet not knowing what to say first.
"What are you doing?" she finally asks, lamely.
I realise I don't have to accept any crap from this pussy licking mother. I rise and walk over to her, a slight swing in my hips and wobble in my bare breasts.
I stand right in front of her. "Just playing girlie games with your daughter ... JUST like you like to do." I feel really cool, really strong. "Ellis is such a beautiful little poppsy, ISN'T she." The cockier I am, the more dazed Cheryl becomes.
I push the palm of my hand into her face. "Smell this" I command her, "Smell it! You know what it is. Don't you. You know the smell of her daughter's cum".
I place my hand over her mouth, standing right up against her. "Lick it. GO on, lick it ... we both know you love the taste of you daughter's cunt. We both know you don't mind if you're old man fucks her so long as you can eat her pussy. So lick it."
I smear my hand hard against her lips. Then snatch my hand back and ostentatiously, right in her face, I give the palm of my hand one long slow lick ... and then hold my hand out for her again.
Cheryl takes hold of my flat hand with her fingertips, and looks at it, studying it for a moment. She sniffs it, and then starts to lick it. She drags her whole mouth over my palm, and then licks each finger, taking care to poke her tongue right down between my fingers. My hand dribbles with Cheryl's salvia.
I pull it from her, and push it straight down the front of her brushed cotton green blouse. Gliding down with it's own wetness, my hand slips inside the top hem of her bra to seize, squeeze and fondle her B cup tittie. She stands like a doll, staring me blankly in the eyes as I feel her up.
"You bitch" she whispers, "you know, don't you." Suddenly she comes to life and rushes her mouth on to my lips, clamping her arms round my waist, and running her hands up by back as she roughly assaults my face.
She's like a teenage boy (and spookily, like her daughter), eating off the face of his first girlfriend. "You know how special it is for a mummy, don't know" she repeats, hoarsely, between her tongue exploring my mouth, and her clumsy hands now struggling unsuccessfully to pull off her blouse.
"Steady now" I command softly, "wait a minute." Cheryl stops trying to snog me and rip her clothes off, and stands patiently.
I calmly undo the buttons of her blouse, unclasp her bra, and tug its straps off her shoulders, exposing her bell breasts to the warm sun. I unzip her trousers; undo the buckle of her belt. She helps by kicking off her sandals, and I pull her trousers slowly down her legs. Her thighs are a bit fat, but I'd never say anything. She rests an arm on my bended bare back, and steps out of them.
Finally, I bend down and slide my hands down her buttocks, inside the elastic of her panties, and gently pull her panties down ... they stick a little at the gusset, where her wetness has glued them to her pussy, but as I continue to pull, it comes away to.
Cheryl stood naked and humble before me. An inch shorter, 5'6", her face unobjectionable, though not quite pretty. A large nose and poor complexion especially took away the shine from a sunny smile, high cheekbones, and beautiful dark brown eyes. Her shoulder length album hair sways well groomed in soft curls. A nice long neck and proud shoulders together suspend her full round though smallish breasts - with tiny little disc nipples, standing high. A narrow waist and a swelled belly, with the soft scar of a caesarean, lead to an expanse of hip, large soft pale buttocks, and full thighs that offer no glint of light between them. Despite having a heavy bottom, the bulge of her pubic bone is prominent, made more so by the trim triangle of short stubbly hair - like me she shaves, of obviously hadn't done so for a couple of weeks, and the 'shadow' was most enticing.
"Could do better" would be my school report on her (except I'd never be so cliched or unhelpful), but who couldn't spend more time down the gym and eating better. Perhaps it would be fairer to say, "not quite my type".
But that didn't matter now. We were both wet with excitement at a secret shared, the secret of being incest mummies. I wanted to see her with her girl. I wanted to see my boy with her girl. I wanted to see my boy with her. I wanted to see Lindsey and her two boys come and join in a mummy - child orgy. I nearly pissed myself again just thinking about that for a moment.
"Why don't you sit with Ellis for a moment. I just want to go upstairs and get my Jack and the others"
"Others ...?" I heard her voice tail off as I went inside