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===================

Ginny 212kb g10

is a young girl who unexpectedly gets her first period in a department 
store and is helped out by an adult lesbian who eventually becomes her 
lover. The story follows the subsequent years of Ginny's life, her 
evolving relationship with Carol who is her adult lover and erzats 
mother growing up, and Ginny's life and other lovers as the arc of her 
life continues.



Ginny

~ or ~

Synchronicity @   Belks



by

PlanetDweller





~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Standard Disclaimer & Legal Stuff: The following story is adult fiction 
intended for private reading by adults over eighteen (18) years of age 
ONLY or a higher age if required by the political jurisdiction where you 
reside . . . if you are under eighteen years of age, you are required to 
exit now from your browser if accessing through a communications network 
or delete this file if accessing it through a local disk system . . . 
the following story depicts sexual acts which if they were perpetrated 
in real life would be against the law in all countries and localities; 
if merely possessing descriptions of sexual acts which would be against 
the law if committed in "real life" is against the law in the political 
jurisdiction where you live, you are required to exit access from this 
story and/or delete this story immediately . . . the following story is 
a work entirely fictitious and the characters, names, places, dates, 
acts depicted etc. bear no resemblance to  any persons living or dead or 
events and acts which may or may not have taken place at some point in 
time . . . .the author who is using the pseudonym above retains all 
rights of publication to this story . . . individual readers of legal 
age my freely possess this story and distribute it to other readers of 
legal age on a strict non-commercial basis . . . storage of this story 
on any commercial website or by any other means of storage and retrieval 
for commercial purposes is strictly prohibited without written consent 
of the originating author.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Uhhhh . . . uhhhmmmm . . . .uhhggghhh . . . oowwww!!!! . . . 
mmmphhhfffww . . . ." and some other assorted pained-sounding grunts and 
muffled cries echoed from the stall next to me, as I sat on one of the 
two toilet-partitioned commodes in the second-floor ladiesroom at the 
Belk's department store in beautiful downtown Raleigh. "Urrrgggghhh . . 
. oowww!!! . . . damn!" I heard a very youngish-sounding little girl's 
voice profanely declare, as I tried to finish reading that morning's 
edition of The News & Observer. She must have seen my right shoe near 
the open bottom edge of her stall, because the next thing I knew she was 
calling out to me " . . . lady . . . lady! . . . LADY! . . . can you 
help me please?"

I always liked to use this particular public restroom at Belk's because 
no one much else seemingly knew about it. It was off from the Young 
Men's Clothing & Shoes area, just around the corner from the Customer 
Service counter, and most times when I came in to use it, no one else 
would enter, not even if I stayed and relaxed some in there for twenty 
minutes or even half an hour. But this time, a little someone was in 
there before me, but I had to go, so I just ignored the closed stall 
next to mine and tried to relax and do my business. Now, a little 
pipsqueak voice was calling out to me, a total stranger, to try to help 
her do something, God know's what.

"Okay . . . " I answered " . . . give me a minute . . . I'll help you . 
. . " as I finished wiping myself and pulled and zipped up the new 
Easter skirt part of my new Easter outfit I had just bought a bit 
earlier. Figuring the little girl in the next stall to me must have her 
mommy around somewhere, I was thinking I'd just dart in, see what was 
wrong, and then go fetch her mommy for her.

"Open the stall door, Dear-y . . . " I shouted to her, the door being 
latched from the inside " . . . it's locked, open up if you want me to 
help you."

I heard her slide off the commode and pull the latch open, to reveal a 
mess to me. The commode she was sitting on was full of diluted menstrual 
blood, and several bent Super Tampax's from the Tampax dispenser in the 
bathroom littered the pale blue-tiled floor.

"Hi, lady . . . " this little nine or ten year-old girl spoke to me in a 
very matter-of-fact way " . . . thanks for helping me . . . you're a 
life-saver . . . ".
"Where's your mommy at?"
"I don't have a mommy . . . she died when I was five . . . "
"Oh . . . " I said, momentarily taken aback by that statement " . . . 
oh, who are you with . . . who can I go find to help you?" I replied 
nonchalantly.

"I don't have anyone . . . whassyourname?"
"I'm Carol . . . and yours?"
"Melanie, but call me Ginny, everyone else does . . . " she talked on 
while standing in front of me, her thin menstrual blood starting to run 
down her left leg.
"Ginny . . . Ginny, who can I go get to help you?" I insisted, not 
wanting to get involved in a potentially public scene in a public 
bathroom of a public department store.

"Miss Carol, please help me . . . I came here to buy my new Easter 
outfit . . . " pointing to a shopping bag full of stuff resting on the 
floor to one side of the stall " . . . and my period just started . . . 
and it's my first one . . . I've never had one before, and I really 
don't know what to do . . . "
"But you were trying to use Tampax's . . . " I again rebutted, again not 
wanting to get drawn into something like this.
"Only because my Aunt Emily, my Dad's sister who lives out-of-state, 
told me to use them when my first period came, she said napkins were 
nasty and unsanitary and that I should only use tampons, when she had a 
facts-of-life talk with me last year."

Here I was, debating about what I wasn't quite sure with a ten or 
eleven-year-old. She did look so pitiful standing there, her drawers 
around one ankle, fluid dripping down her leg, with a hang-dog look that 
nothing or no one had given me before save that abandoned puppy that 
followed me home when I was a kid.
"C'mon, Ginny . . . ." I whispered " . . . let's get you cleaned up, 
I'll . . . .I'll help you."

I dampened a wad of toilet paper with warm water from the lavatory and 
cleaned the blood off her leg, wiping her pudenda clean as best I could, 
getting her to finish wiping her own self off. Fishing a dime from my 
purse, a boxed sanitary napkin fell as the crank turned on the ancient 
san.nap. dispenser. Ginny protested about what her aunt had told her 
about pads not being "clean", but I told her beggars couldn't be 
choosers as I pinned the pad to her underwear for her (this was the 
early 70's, pre-Stayfree days).
"Had any breakfast yet?" I asked.
"No, not yet . . . I was headed to the cafeteria when all this shit 
happened".
"Ginny, young lady, your language!" I scolded.
"Yeah, Carol, like you don't curse" she replied with a smile with very 
adult tone.
"C'mon, let's get something to eat, I'm buying."

She trailed closely behind me down the serving line on the third floor 
of Belk's cafeteria, getting a plate of scrambled eggs and a couple of 
their famous melt-in-your-mouth homemade biscuits.
"I have my own money, Carol" she mentioned.
"No, it's okay, I'm buying . . . let's find us a booth so we can talk."

My mind wandered back to my childhood "down East" to the family farm 
near the Pender County hamlet of Ivanhoe, where I grew up with my three 
older brothers, I being the youngest. 'Nam and the draft had taken all 
three, and had killed one of them, Billy, my middle brother.  Because of 
my good grades and the fact that things were really a'changing within 
the University Of North Carolina system, to where women were actually 
being allowed not just to attend but also apply for scholarship money, 
my grades and Mrs. Beartaun, my high school guidance counselor, helped 
me win a Morehead Scholarship to UNC-Chapel Hill, where I discovered I 
didn't like pre-law but like math and especially business accounting and 
where, by the sheerest and blindest luck of the draw I noticed a poster 
on a bulletin board at Wilson Library that read "Women's consciousness 
raising group meets every Tuesday at Womack Hall Rm 204, call for 
further information, women only".

That so-called consciousness-raising group was nothing more than a 
lesbian coed get-naked-and-masturbate-in-front-of-each-other-in-a-circle 
group, but it definitely raised my consciousness, raised it to where I 
found my own identity as a lesbian womyn, an identity I didn't know I 
had before that. Oh sure, it was 1968 and it was the most liberal 
college in the South and it was the times and the times they were 
a'changing, changing people as well as people changing times, but the 
group didn't lead me anywhere I wasn't already headed anyway, even if I 
wasn't aware of it at first. And the group also gave me my first serious 
female lover, Jillian, who "lead" the supposedly leaderless group. Even 
after I and she graduated in 1972, we continued to see each other, even 
lived together briefly for a few weeks at my first downtown Raleigh 
apartment near my first job working cheap as a green forensic accountant 
my new Account Degree in hand for a bunch of corporate lawyers, before 
Jill "discovered" she wasn't lesbian at all and ended up dating and 
eventually marrying one of the partners of the firm I was working at, a 
move which made me leave and wound me up at Grayden & Pulley, which is 
where I'm still at right now.

I think almost out of psychic self-defense I started thinking about all 
the rough horseplay with my older brothers we used to engage in, the 
playing of tackle football in the yard and full-contact basketball in 
the driveway, and of taking our father's old jonboat down the Black 
River looking for poisonous water mocassin snakes to capture just for 
the fun of it. Thoughts of all the womyn back at UNC whose lesbian 
virginities I took, seemingly hundreds of them, the blur of memory 
fuzzing around the details already at age 24, most of whom were 
experimenting I knew but I didn't care, taking of their g-to-g 
virginities being almost as much of a political act against the 
patriarchy of male-dominated American society as it was just plain old 
woman-to-woman fun for me. Thoughts of career and dating as a lesbian in 
a cliquish, hickish but charming but still very small Southern town if 
it was more tolerant than many places of those not obviously of the 
norm. Thoughts about anything other than what was racing deep under the 
waves of the storm in my mind right then.

We couldn't find an empty table at all at first, then a couple at a 
booth over back towards the Salisbury Street side got up, and we scooted 
in before the dirty dishes could be bused so no one else could claim it 
first. Pushing the previous occupant's mess to the edge of the table, we 
waited in momentary silence before a busboy cleaned our table off. "Let 
say grace, Ginny" I asked. I mumbled my standard meal-prayer of thanks 
to our Lord for the food before us and for the friendship of present and 
past friends, then we both dove into our food.

"How old are you, Ginny?"
"I'm 10 . . . you?"
"I just turned 24 . . . when's your birthday?"
"July 28 . . . and yours?"
"March 29"

I poured a healthy dose of sugar from the tallish container into my 
coffee as Ginny heavily peppered her scrambled eggs and munched on her 
toast. She glanced at me, and I made and met and froze momentary eye 
contact with her. Stirrings in below my waist were pinging feelings that 
shouldn't have been there. Sure, I hadn't been on a real date in almost 
four months, but except for the Mousetrap in Raleigh and a couple of 
other bars in nearby Durham and Chapel Hill, it's not like the area was 
Boston or Berkeley or similar, and the small lesbian community that 
frequented those bars weren't exactly what we would call what I've 
always been but didn't have a name for then, a "lipstick lesbian", or a 
lesbian who looks more or less straight to the outside world and just 
loves womyn and isn't into a whole lot of role playing. Ginny's eyes 
pierced deep into mine, and I audibly if softly gulped.

"Ginny . . . pardon me for asking, but it's unusual for a ten-year-old 
girl to be off shopping by herself . . . you said your Mom's dead . . . 
what about your dad, what about your brothers and sisters?"
" 'Don't have no brothers and sisters, I'm an only child . . . Dad's 
just got his one sister, my Aunt Emily, who lives in Michigan or 
Minnesota or someplace like that, she's married to my Uncle Dave, and 
I've got two cousins, Pete and Shirley, both about my age, though I've 
only seen them a few times growing up . . . ."

"What does you Dad do?"
"He's a trucker . . . he's gone for lotsa days, sometimes I don't see 
him for a week or more . . . what do you do, Carol?"
"I'm an accountant for a local firm, Grayden & Pulley, their offices are 
just a couple of buildings down . . . 'am working my way towards my CPA 
. . . what grade are you in?"
"I'm in 4th . . . "
"I bet you're an 'A' student, aren't you, Ginny?" I asked with a polite 
smile.
"Well . . . sometimes . . . mostly A's and B's . . . "

An easy silence for a few moment followed, as we tried to finish eating 
before our food got cold.
"Where do you live, Ginny?"
"On Maywood Ave., off S. Saunders . . . "
"Oh . . . .yeah, I know where that is . . . "
She made a soft grunting sound that was meant to say "and you?"
"Oh, me? . . . I live in one half of a duplex on the south end of Blount 
Street . . . the other half is owned by a nice older retired couple, the 
Traytons . . . it's just a few blocks from here . . . "
"I know . . . " Ginny commented while finishing off what was left of her 
grits.

Another pregnant pause, then I looked right in the eyes again, and 
somewhat boldly asked "how does it feel?"
"How does it feel?"
"How does what feel?"
"You . . . you know . . . " I replied, embarrassed a tiny bit for some 
unknown reason.
"Oh, my pad? . . . it feels kind of big . . . big and yucky . . . "
"Yeah . . . " I acknowledged "Ginny . . . if you really want to start 
using tampons, especially since you don't have a mom or any girlfriends 
to help you, I'll help you . . . "
"Sure, Carol . . . sure . . . that'd be nice of you, Carol"
"Let's go back to my place, Ginny, so I can help you . . . first, let's 
stop by McCrory's so I can pick up a pack of Tampax Juniors for you, okay?"

We walked out into the perfect North Carolina Saturday morning, full of 
food and good cheer. Walking down the sidewalk along Fayetteville Street 
to McCrory's, my arm gently swung towards Ginny on my right, and she 
easily and unaffectedly took it, like two sisters innocently holding 
hands in public. It was innocent after all, wasn't it?

I picked up some photos I had taken over Christmas at home but had 
procrastinatedly waited months to have developed, and some candy bars 
and a couple of pair of hose in addition to the box of Tampax Juniors, 
Ginny asking for and we also getting a couple of fountain Cokes. I told 
her that we could take the bus if she wanted, but she replied "no", that 
she knew it was only seven or eight blocks to my place, and she didn't 
mind the walk.

Inside my old and funky but nice apartment, I bored her with the family 
photos taken over last Christmas. She commented on how much she wished 
she had a "real" family. I told her I was sure her Dad really loved her, 
and did what he did, being on the road so much, because he loved her, 
she agreeing, saying of course she knew that. We finished our fountain 
Cokes from McCrory's, and I asked if she wanted to watch some TV or 
something.
"No, Carol . . . if it's okay with you, can we get started?"
"Sure . . . ." I replied " . . . .let's go to the bathroom".

I told her it would probably be easier if we both got naked. Deliciously 
evil thoughts raced through my mind. I couldn't help it. I swear to God 
Almighty that while I might be a lesbian, I'm not a pedophile, and had 
never had a sexual thought about any womyn under eighteen before. But . 
. . but . . . but the moment . . . the moment seemed, well, so right. If 
I'm damned to Hell because of it, I guess that's the breaks, but it 
really felt like I was being carried along by greater forces I didn't 
understand and couldn't control.

We went back to my master bedroom, and undressed, she helping me out of 
my skirt and blouse, I pulling her print dress over her head once the 
back was unzipped. She reached up to help me unfasten my bra, and my 
breasts plopped down. She gazed at them intently, evidently never have 
seen a grown woman's one's before. I just let her look all she wanted. I 
wanted her to look at them. I wanted her to reach out and touch them, I 
wanted to reach for her hands and put her small ten-year-old hands on 
them, but I didn't want to push things too fast and scare her off, 
either. I took the cellophane off the box of 'Jr.'s, reached to put my 
arm around Ginny, and lead her the five steps around my bed to the side 
door entrance to my master bath.

"Watch me, Gin' . . . " I instructed " . . . I'll put one in, you watch 
closely, then you try, okay?"
Dipping the tip in the old jar of carbolated vaseline on the commode 
tank lid, I had Ginny sit on the edge of the bathtub to get a good view, 
propped my right leg up on the closed lid of the commode, spread my 
pussy as best I could with my left hand so she could see better, and 
popped the smallish tampon in me, easing the applicator out and popping 
it into the toilet.
"Now, you try".

She blushed just a little, becoming a tad more embarrassed than I think 
she thought she might be in this situation, I mean, I was a perfect 
stranger to her just a couple of hours ago, as she took one from the 
box, dipped the end in the vaseline, and propped one leg up on the 
toilet before making that previously-heard series of grunts and moans 
indicating pain and frustration and underbreath expletives before 
bending it. I innocently hugged her close to me, took another one from 
the box, and told her I'd help her. As she held another at the entrance 
to her microtiny vulva, my hand encompassed hers, and I tried to help 
her aim it properly, telling her to try to push it in as if she was 
trying to hit the small of her back. Still, no luck. She/we bent that 
one, then another one.
"Let's go back to my bedroom and lie on the bed . . . you're simply too 
tight, too small . . . " she giving me a look of disappointment " . . . 
no, it's okay, it's just you're new to all this, we'll have to work a 
little, that's all."

I fetched the two old and somewhat ratty towels from my bathroom linen 
pantry that I sometimes use to put under my own butt while sleeping when 
I'm on my period as we walked back into my bedroom. Ginny looked really 
concerned, but I tried as best I could to reassure her, telling her all 
young girls have at least some problems when they first try to use 
tampons, as I pulled her close to me, my breast caressing her face, she 
not minding.

Laying her down on my bed, I scooted the towels under her butt, and had 
her prop her legs open for me. Her perfectly saintly pussy, untouched by 
anyone, beamed itself before my intent gaze. Her tiny almost 
imperceptible lips lead upwards to the most perfect pea-bud of the 
tiniest clit possible and still be visible. The slightest gossamer trace 
of nearly invisible beginnings of pubic hair glistened atop her mound. A 
trickle of blood oozed from the pencil-lead-sized opening in her 
virginal hymen, her very visible hymen covering her vagina as if by 
right. I was entranced by the sight. God help me and forgive me, I was 
entranced. An adult lesbian moth drawn to a pre-adolescent virginal 
flame. My hand reached for and stroked and played with Ginny's lips. I 
took a daub of thin menstrual blood and used as lubrication, rubbing her 
clit, as I had with previous adult womyn lovers. She sucked in her 
breath hard, her legs stiffened up, her eyes looked first up at the 
ceiling, and then right at me.

"Carol . . . Carol . . . CAROL!!! . . . " she finally shouted at me, 
breaking my trance " . . . .you're . . . you're not one of those 
bull-dykes my father told me about, are you?"
Her language and thoughts expressed of someone twenty years old instead 
of ten brought me crashing down to reality. I eased up the bed to put my 
face just inches from hers.

"Gin . . . Ginny . . . no, NO, I'm not a 'bull-dyke' . . . a bull-dyke 
is a kind of lesbian woman who likes women but usually makes an effort 
to look something like a man . . . do I look like I look like a man, or 
try to?"
"Well, no . . . "
"I am a lesbian, Ginny, to answer your question honestly . . . yes, I'm 
a lesbian . . . I like to make love to other women . . . do you know 
what a 'lesbian' is?"
"Uh-hu . . . Aunt Emily told me last year, and my Dad also told me about 
bull-dykes and guy-faggots, too . . . and they both told me about guys 
who like little girls, who want to molest them, and that if I ran across 
one, to call the police . . . "

I pulled her closer to me. Her face molded into my breasts. She didn't 
try to pull away.
"Ginny . . . Ginny?"
She didn't say a word. It felt like she was starting to cry, maybe just 
a little bit. I felt something like a tear moisten my breasts as she 
buried her face deeper between them.
"Ginny . . . do . . . you want to call the police? . . . Have I molested 
you, Ginny?"
She began openly sobbing.
"No, Carol . . . I don't want to call the police . . . " she said 
through her crying sobs " . . . I just miss my Mommy so much . . . Carol 
. . . I just miss her so much . . . I loved her so much, and she left me 
and Dad . . . I know she died and couldn't help it, I just miss her so 
much . . . "
"I know . . . I know you do, Baby . . . it's okay . . . just let it all 
out . . . it's okay".

She reached over and held me tighter to her, and just cried years and 
years of pent-up grief and pain out. I stroked her hair as we just held 
each other. Her wails of anger and heartache touched me. I wanted to 
become her Mommy now as much or more than her lover, my rising passion 
now turning as much into compassion. Her mouth found my right nipple, 
and she began to suck. Her hands began to play with both my breasts as 
she took turns sucking them. Her crying began to subside as her oral 
ministrations to my nipples began definitely making me wet and horny 
once again. I just held her close and let her do what she willed.
"Carol . . . Carol!" she sweetly scolded " . . . Carol . . . will you be 
my new 'Mommy'?"
I didn't have to think. "Yes, Ginny, I'll be your new Mommy . . . but 
we're going to have to keep our relationship secret, it's illegal to do 
what you just did to me and what I want to do with you, Sweetie, and I 
could go to jail for a very long time if anyone found out about it . . . "
"I know, Carol . . . Mommy . . . I know, Mommy . . . I'll keep the 
secret, promise".

A wave of a combination of raw emotions I had never felt before and have 
never felt since rolled over me. Passion, compassion, lust, desire, 
love, Love, concern, hope, dread, fear, promise, sadness, and happiness 
all flooded over like some psychic dam bursting in the room with us. 
Bending my head down to kiss my new daughter, I could see in her eyes 
she was feeling the same tsunami of emotions that were washing over me. 
Scooting up, I kissed that perfect ten-year-old face right on the lips, 
my tongue parting her facial horizontals. Right, wrong, sin, virtue, I 
didn't care anymore. She tried to kiss me back, trying to push her 
tongue in my mouth. Her first French kiss. I grinned and laughed, she 
laughing too.

"I love you, Mommy . . . " she whispered, and an unexpected orgasm swept 
over me from my toes to the hairs on my head. "I love you, too, Baby . . 
. " I cooed back at her " . . . anything you don't want to do, or want 
me to stop doing, just say so, and I will, promise" I intoned. "I know, 
Mommy, I know you will . . . that's why I love my Mommy, my Mommy would 
never hurt me".

It felt like I just wanted my soul to leave its skin cocoon and join my 
precious new daughter Ginny's somewhere else, somewhere beside here, my 
emotions were now so raw and large and blustery. But we still had a task 
at hand, a task which had lead us without meaning to our new mutual 
epiphany.
"My daughter Ginny still needs to learn how to use tampons, remember, 
you stinker you?"
She giggled. "I remember, Mommy, I remember".

I had her lay back down flat, looking up at the ceiling, her legs 
propped wide open for me. No reason for caution and concern or prim and 
properness now. Before me lay my new daughter, who was also my new 
lover. My mouth found and sucked furiously on her clit. Gin' gasped for 
breath, and whispered something about how that felt so good. My index 
finger tried to push her open a tiny bit, but her hymen was so thick and 
intact and her narrow vaginal entrance so small that my finger would go 
in further past the tip.

"Ginny . . . my daughter . . . " I said, role-playing my role and hers 
for all it was worth " . . . you're very tight . . . I'm going to have 
to open you up some, or you won't be able to get a tampon in . . . okay? 
. . . it might hurt some, just be a brave girl and bear with me, okay?"
"Okay, Carol . . . Mommy . . . okay Mommy".

I licked her sugary cuntal lips some to get her relaxed and tried to 
force my tongue in her blood-trickling opening, but to no avail.
"Mommy's going to have to force you open a bit . . . just be a brave 
girl, okay, my Ginny?"
"I will, promise, I will, Mommy".

She screamed a little scream as my short but sharp pale-polished index 
finger-nail tore past her hymen and penetrated into her vagina. I sucked 
hard on her clit, trying to distract her, trying to give her some 
pleasure to offset the pain I knew she was in. Her virginal vagina viced 
around my finger. My finger-stroking inside her was slow, but increased 
in pace over the next few minutes. After ten or fifteen minutes, I felt 
her vaginal barrel begin to relax, and knew she was fine. Tiny rivulets 
of blood from her torn hymen mixed in with the slow but steady stream of 
menstrual blood from her pussy. Wiping her residues from mouth and face 
as to not gross her out so bad, I scooted back up to her face, and began 
kissing once again. Taking her hand, I eased it to my vagina, and she 
knew what I wanted without asking, her smallish ten-year-old fingers 
playing and poking at my pussy. She smiled at me and I beamed back at her.
"I love you" I huskily whispered to her.
"I love you too, Mommy" she said in hushed tone reply.
"Let's put one of those tampons inside you now, okay?"
"Okay".

Scooting down between her legs to watch and help, the square-tipped Jr. 
now slid easily inside her without using vaseline on the tip, she 
beaming back at me as she finally began wearing her first tampon. I 
tugged on the string to make sure she placed it deep enough inside her, 
and moved back up to her face.
"Mommy . . . Carol?"
"Yes, Dear?"
"Is what you were doing to me with your mouth and fingers, is that what 
is called 'making love'?"
"Yes, Ginny, my daughter, that's what two women do when they make love".
"Mommy . . . will you show me some more?"
"Of course, my Darling, of course".

The rest of the day we spent in peaceful and unashamed bliss. I had 
never had a lover like my Ginny, nor in my wildest perverted dreams I 
had ever thought I'd have one, ever. I guess because she had had to be 
so independent and self-sufficient for so long, basically taking care of 
herself since she was in first grade, what with her Dad being gone for 
days and even weeks at a time, she seemed so much older mentally to me 
than her mere ten years of chronological age seemed. Older, more 
confident, more self-assured, more mature, but still with a 
ten-year-old's perspective and life experiences and yes, body. And what 
a body that I feel in love with, as well as a true spirit and mind. Just 
the tiniest little buds for breasts, and nipples lighter and smaller 
than a typical boy's. Long, thin legs which supported her 5'2", 100 lb. 
frame. Her past-shoulder-length, silky, thinnish sandy-brunette hair. 
And that smile of hers. That smile which could melt an Antarctic icebeg 
with one flash of it.

In all my adult lesbian virgin-taking during my reign on campus of being 
the ultimate in womyn pussyhounds, seldom had I run across but a few of 
them who were less nervous, more eager, and more willing to just to 
relax and let things happen and "go for it" as my Ginny was, and they 
were all grown women out on their own. The first time I had Ginny scoot 
between my spread legs to give me some head, she didn't wince, she 
didn't make a face, she didn't act disgusted, she didn't hesitate, she 
just dove on it like I had done to hers previously, and sucked my clit 
and lips for all she was worth, while her tiny fingers frigged my cunt. 
And the kissing. The kissing. We just held each other, seemingly for 
hours, and kissed and kissed and kissed, made out like two love-sick 
puppies, gently and easily playing with each other's breasts and pussies 
while we kissed.

Dusk came and went. Neither one of us wanted to get out of bed. I got up 
and fixed and served us hotdogs and fries in bed, but Ginny was more 
interested in bonding than eating. We fed each other french fries dipped 
in ketchup while sitting in front of each other on the, my, our bed like 
some honeymooning couple. I was happy, Gin' was happy, we were happy. 
Dishes being pushed under the edge of the bed, we just lay in bed, 
holding each other. I mentioned something about her needing to go home, 
but she said her dad wouldn't be back for several more days, and as long 
as she caught her bus on Monday morning for school, no would care. We 
flipped and sixty-nined each other for another long bit of time. The 
quiet of a Saturday night in our apartment on Blount Street enveloped 
us. Happiness enveloped us. Love enveloped us.

Easing back into each other's arms, we dozed for another longish time, 
both waking up hungry. Taking my old Pinto the several blocks up to 
Peace Street, we luckily caught the "Hot Donuts NOW" sign on at the 
Krispy Kreme, and claiming the last two free stools at the counter, 
proceeded to have a virtual orgy of hot doughnuts and coffee, as 
everyone else there was enjoying too.

Back at my, our place, Ginny said she was really tired, and wanted to go 
to sleep. I told her that she always need to, regardless of how light or 
heavy her flow was to change her tampons at least twice a day, and 
always before she went to bed. She went to the bathroom to do so, and I 
followed her. I simply couldn't keep my hands off of her. She changed 
her Jr., and I dropped to my knees to lick her pussy clean, offering her 
a raw taste of her own essence, she accepting.
"I really feel like a woman, now, Mommy . . . I don't feel like a little 
girl anymore".
"I know, Baby, I know . . . you're truly a young woman now".

We made out for another longer bit as we snuggled under the covers 
together, and feel asleep in each other's arms. At 5AM, the alarm that I 
had preset the morning before went off. Damn! It was Easter Sunday. 
Rousting her up, I asked Gin' if she still wanted to go to an Easter 
Service, she replying "yes".
"What church do you normally go to?"
"I don't go to church that often . . . when I do go, it's usually to 
Park Methodist past Montlawn . . . Dad and I aren't members . . . I 
usually just go with a neighbor who takes me . . . if I don't answer my 
door this morning, they won't care, they'll just go on without me."
"I normally go to Temple Baptist up on Wake Forest Road . . . is that okay?"
"Sure".

Pastor Kenan lead the choir in pageantry choral singing at the Easter 
sunrise service at 6:30AM, as my 'daughter' Melanie-call-me-Ginny joined 
me and my fellow 300+ church members in greeting not just the new sun of 
a new day, but the promise of eternal life through the love and 
acceptance of Jesus Christ as our personal Lord and Savior, His perfect 
Love washing our sins away, the promise of His resurrection begating the 
promise of our own into living eternal life with Him. Our new Easter 
dresses billowing in the gentle breeze that wafted through the backyard 
and softball fields area behind Temple Baptist that Easter morning, I 
couldn't help but feel so changed in so many ways because of the events 
of the past 24 hours. Yet, in my heart, I think my Jesus knew and 
accepted and if necessary forgave me for any sins I might have committed 
with or for or against my new daughter, Ginny. Ginny and I held each 
other's hands as we joined in singing "The Rock Of Zion" and "Amazing 
Grace". Pastor Kenan and several other church members wandered up to us 
as we were sauntering back to the front church parking lot, being nosey 
about Ginny, I introducing her as my niece.

We stopped by Watkin's Grill around the corner from 'Temple for some 
breakfast, and it was packed, had to wait half an hour to be seated with 
everyone else filtering in not just from ours but from several other 
church's sunrise services. Back home in our apartment, our new Easter 
dresses were shed like so much unnecessary snakeskin and back to bed we 
went. More than with someone older, I have to admit, I didn't feel a 
need to hide my emotions, any emotion, from my Ginny. Everytime she 
would call me "Mommy" when talking to me, it would send a happy and 
pleasant chill down my spine. And when we touched and kissed and made 
love, it was as lovers, not mother and daughter.

The sun rose over the sky as that perfect Sunday eased onwards. I showed 
her how I masturbated, and taught her how to do the same, encouraging 
her to masturbate and dream of me when we were to be apart. As a treat, 
I also gave her some analingus, something I don't normally do, except 
with my special lovers, but my Ginny couldn't have been more special to 
me. And, as she watched some golf show on my TV in the living room, we 
both knew it was time for us to be apart once more. I gave her my phone 
number, and she mine,

I didn't hear from her Monday, or Tuesday, or Wednesday following. I 
couldn't help but wonder if it all had been a dream, a wistful fantasy 
fueled by missing of my parents and siblings and of not having a steady 
girlfriend. As I sat down to eat spaghetti-and-meatballs dinner and 
watch the evening news that following Thursday, the phone rang. It was 
"my" Ginny.

"Hi, Mom . . . " she cooed to me.
"Hi, Baby . . . where have you been? . . . why haven't you called?"
"Dad came home Tuesday morning and just left early this morning . . . 
and I didn't call Monday because, well, Mom, I love you, but everything 
. . . .everything . . . ."
"I know, Baby, Darling . . . everything was just too much to handle 
right then . . . ."
" . . . yeah . . . 'not mad at me, are you, Mommy?"
" . . . of course, not, Baby . . . Mommy's not mad at you . . . " her 
calling me "Mommy" making my heart and pussy each time she did so, and 
she knowing it, I think.
"Can I come over tonight? . . . Dad's gone for another bunch a' days . . 
. could you take me to school on the morning?"
"Sure, Ginny . . . have you eaten supper yet? . . . "
"Not yet".
"I just sat down to eat a big pot of spaghetti-and-meatballs I fixed . . 
. sound good?"
"Sure does, Mommy".
"I'll be there in fifteen minutes to pick you up" I happily chirped.

We made happy messes allover our faces as we slurped our pasta in my 
tiny but homey apartment. Pouring some sangria from a carafe on the 
kitchen table into a wineglass half-filled with water to cut the 
strength of the alcohol and taste, my Ginny tasted her first adult 
beverage. I leaned over the table to cat-clean her face with my tongue, 
and we ended up in a deep, passionate kiss. The fact she was just ten 
years old mattered no more to me. She had the center if not the reality 
of an adult, and I couldn't help but treat her like one, if I did enjoy 
her fresh innocence at discovering things new and wonderful. I washed 
and she dried the dishes. We gently swapped more kisses. She felt me up 
through my blouse. I wanted to go to bed right then, and ravage my 
too-young lover, my faux but sincere adopted daughter.
"Let's play a game, Mommy!" she chirped.

Digging an old Monopoly game out from the bottom of my hall closet, we 
played for a couple of hours as the TV fireplaced anonymously near us in 
my living room. She was a good player, and I tried to win, but she did 
instead. We smiled at each other, just making mother/daughter smalltalk 
all the while, stopping every now and then to trade nice kisses. I 
reached under her skirt playfully and parted the edge of her panties 
with my finger. I didn't feel a tampon string.
"I stopped this morning . . . .is that okay, Mommy?"
"Sure, Baby, why wouldn't it be okay? . . . .you've got school tomorrow 
. . . almost time for bed . . . want some milk and cookies before bed? . 
. . ."
"Sure, Mommy, that'd be neat-o".

We stripped to our buffs and climbed into bed, beginning to make out, 
she sucking on my breasts and feeling my pussy some, I gently frigging 
her vagina, kissing and kissing all the while.
"Mommy? . . . " Ginny asked in mid-kiss as we held each other in each 
other's arms under the covers.
"Yes, Ginny Dear?"
"Will you read me a story?"
That really caught me off-guard. But my Ginny was still a ten-year-old 
in reality. I didn't have any children's books to read to her, since I 
didn't have any nieces or nephews or friends with little kids that came 
over. But I didn't want to break the mood.

"I don't know . . . if I have anything to read to you, Ginny, Baby . . . "
"Anything at all will be fine, Mommy . . . just read me a story, any 
story, okay?"
"Baby . . . I know you haven't had an orgasm . . . remember I explained 
about orgasms and such to you last weekend? . . . "
"I remember, Mommy . . . "
" . . . and I haven't had one either yet . . . let's have some more sex 
first, so we can both have our orgasms, then I'll read you a story . . . "
"Okay".

She slid around and over me so we could sixty-nine. That precious jewel 
of a budding cunt on my "daughter" tasted still so sweet to me. I 
hunched my legs up and wide so she could get to my clit and pussy 
easier. She hadn't forgotten her lessons from last weekend. Her hand 
past her wrist entered me. My tongue lashed out at her clit and barest 
opening of a vaginal barrel. The digital alarm clock on my nightstand 
read "10:58pm", a time I knew was usually past her bedtime. I held her 
close to me, asked her to lick me and fist me even harder, and within a 
few minutes, I came, then she finally came.

Now for the story. I didn't want to read from the Bible in my nightstand 
drawer, that didn't seem quite right, right then. The only other thing I 
had was an in-house annual financial report for a local small private 
company I was doing a fiscal year year-end audit for, which I had been 
working on at night all week. So I read a story, flipping through the 
dry pages of rows of numbers and hand-scribbled margin notes I had 
marked in it, about the Prince Of A Dry Cleaning Chain who had 
"borrowed" money from his taxfunds account and got caught by his Uncle 
Sam and was made to pay heavy fines and penalties and was thrown in 
Uncle Sam's dungeon for a few weeks just to make a point but who was a 
decent Prince and treated his Subjects well and now paid his taxes on 
time because he didn't want to be thrown back into Uncle Sam's dungeon. 
My Ginny lay peacefully asleep next to me in bed as I finished my story. 
I threw the report on the floor, cut out the light, snuggled close to 
her, pulling her close to me, holding her close in my arms. I was happy. 
She was happy. What was wrong with that?

The alarm went off at six-thirty a few hours later. We showered 
together, teasing and playing with each other, she pulling off my shower 
cap, I playfully scolding her not to do that again, my hair having to 
look nice for work, even if it was straight and long and easy to quickly 
style back. She sat at my make-up table and I brushed her hair straight, 
and she mine. We had become mother and daughter, our own version of a 
family. What was wrong with that? She put on a different jumper dress 
and shoes that she had brought with her in a grocery sack from home so 
she could wear them to school. Both of us slurping down some cold cereal 
and milk, we dashed out the door just before seven-thirty. I made the 
drive down Davie to South Street and down and around to Vena Wilburn 
Elementary, dropping her off, before heading back to downtown and work. 
Dropping her off in front of the school, as hundreds of her classmates 
poured out from buses and cars around us, she lightly leaned in to kiss 
me on the lips. As she was walking away as I waited in a line of 
vehicles and buses double-parked to leave, a classmate came up to her, 
and asked her who I was. Through the narrow crack of the window keeping 
out the morning chill, I heard her say "oh, that's Carol, that's my new 
Mom". I went to work happy.






~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After that, Ginny and I would call each other at least once, usually 
twice or more, a day. Mostly, it was just small talk, usual 
mother/daughter or bestfriend/bestfriend talk. I still don't understand 
how or why, but that's what Ginny had become, my best friend, and I 
hers. Maybe it was simply mutual needs and wants. I don't know, and I 
still don't care.

We saw each other about every third or fourth day, when her Dad wasn't 
there, which wasn't very much, a pattern which would continue for a long 
time. Two weeks later when my period started, she delighted in that much 
to my surprise maybe and joy. She dove into my menstrual pool from the 
ten-meter board for all she was worth, sucking and licking my clit and 
cuntal lips, savoring my juices, sharing them with me with child-like 
delight as she kissed me after eating me, frigging my pussy so well, 
fisting me like a much more experience womyn-lover, squealing with 
happiness when her smallish wrist would disappear deep inside me. That 
night I also had her use my trusty ol' ten-inch 
fake-symbol-of-masculine-repression-and-dominance but which I enjoyed 
using anyway on myself, i.e. my trusty old three "C"-cell 
battery-powered vibrator that a lover long gone had given me, which 
Ginny was fascinated by as she pumped me with it. I promised to get her 
a smaller one sometime.

About six months later, during one of our usual twice or three 
times-weekly lovemaking sessions, she suddenly got serious on me, 
telling me "Mom . . . . Carol . . . . my Dad told me to tell you that he 
wants you to come over for dinner with us next time he's home, which 
will be tomorrow night . . . . he said tell you, if you don't say yes, 
that I can never see you again . . . . that . . . . that . . . . if you 
don't come over to meet him and eat supper with us, you can't be my 
Mommy any more . . . . " she then just breaking down and boo-hooing a 
sad and deep crying jag.
"Don't worry, Baby, I'll go . . . . everything will be fine, I promise", 
lying through my proverbial teeth.

I was greeted at the door by a six-three mountain of man, rough-looking 
but clean-shaven and smelling of clean and pleasant aftershave.
"Hi, I'm Richard, Melanie's, Ginny's, father . . . . " he spake with 
polite tone, handing me for some reason a single white rose . . . . oh, 
I remembered . . . . a white rose symbolizing "friendship", i.e., a 
peace offering.
"Hi, I'm Carol, Ginny's new friend . . . . " I replied, handing him a 
bottle of decent Bordeaux " . . . . I didn't know what we were having 
for dinner, so I brought a nice bottle of red, that usually goes with 
most everything . . . . is that okay? . . . . "
"We're having meatloaf and boiled potatoes and vegetables, so sure, 
Carol, thank you, that is fine".

I had only been in Ginny's house ever-so briefly a couple of times 
before, just quick scoot-in's and scoot-outs, she being concerned about 
her nice but nosey neighbors, whom her Dad had watch over her and be 
there to help when he was gone on the road, which was usually twenty or 
twenty-five days of a typical month. For a smallish, older home, Richard 
had furnished it nice. Quality, but not overly expensive new furniture, 
along with a smattering of antiques.

He being in the kitchen helping Gin' finish putting dinner together, I 
studied the books in their bookcase. A new set of World Book 
encyclopedias. Some books on car repair, including a Chilton manual for 
a 71' Camaro, one which happened to be sitting in their driveway, 
obviously Richard's. Some books on sewing and crocheting and an entire 
shelf of cookbooks, including one on Jewish cooking and one on Thai. 
Some old and new fiction and some biographies, including one of John 
Kennedy, and in the mix, to my somewhat surprise, several books of 
poetry, including "The Bell Jar" by Sylvia Plath, which was nearly a 
bible to my college womyn's studies-and-lesbian orgy-and- initiation 
group. Some old college textbook versions of some classics, including 
the "Odyssey" and such.
"Dinner's ready, M-a-a . . . . " she catching herself "I mean Carol . . 
. . dinner's ready".

Trying to compliment Richard, I heavily complimented the meatloaf, which 
was delicious.
"Melanie made it . . . . she's a great cook, isn't she?"
"Yes, she is".
"I put on on ten pounds in two days when I home, don't I, Baby, because 
of her great cooking . . . . you know she's been cooking for herself 
ever since she was six, when her Mom died . . . . "
"I know . . . . " I replied as I looked down at the table cloth, out of 
a sense of respect for her departed Mother.

Richard told me about his work, the fact that even though he was a high 
school dropout he made more money than a lot of white-collar 
professionals, an unintentional light slap at me I think but not 
impolite mention, and that he had been in every US State and Canadian 
Province in North America. I talked about my work, and as a reply 
almost, casually mentioned that at age 24, I was already making in the 
low 30's plus benefits, let alone for someone my age, though I had to 
work a lot of hours off-the-clock being on salary instead of wages. His 
eyes focused and bulged. Then he switched the subject to ancient 
history, of which he had a lot of self-taught knowledge, and I very 
little. Then the subject switched to Ginny, she sitting there quietly 
like a polite little girl letting the adults talk, as the meal wound 
down, I cleaning my plate of the delicious meatloaf and potatoes and 
creamed corn and string beans and home-made biscuits, a meal that 
reminded me so much of the home-cooking I grew up eating "down East".
"Let's go into the living room and talk . . . . Ginny, clean up the 
table and wash the dishes, please" he spoke as a parent.
"Let me help, please . . . . " I asked.
"NO, thank you, Carol . . . . Ginny can do it, and we have a Kenmore 
dishwasher that does all the work anyway . . . . all she has to do is 
scrap them cleam and put them in . . . . let's go to the living room . . 
. . can I get you something to drink, a beer perhaps?"
"That would be nice, thank you".

Sipping on the ice-cold Old Milwaukee skunkyshitbeer reminded me of my 
college days again, the lesbian keggers our womyn's group used to hold 
off campus which could only be described as every straight guy's 
ultimate college coed fantasy scene. Feeling a bit nervous for some 
reason, I quickly airshot the first down before Richard could even get 
comfortable in his chair, so he got up and brought us in a the rest of 
the six-pack, I shooting another down quickly before he could speak, and 
then trying to calm down and sip more than guzzle the next one.
"Damn . . . . . . " he quietly exclaimed " . . . . for an accoutant, you 
sure can put 'em away . . . . " he attempted a compliment.
"I drink only very little now, but I used to drink a lot of beer when I 
was at UNC . . . . "
"I believe you, Carol, I believe you . . . . " friendly laughter in his 
undertones, he pausing, taking a breath, taking a big swig from his own 
can of Old Can't-Walk-Straight.

"I'll get right to the point, Carol . . . . "
"Please do, Richard".
"I know what you are and who you are, and have known that you've been 
banging my little girl since last March or early April . . . . I won't 
cuss you too bad, other than to say you really must be one sick piece of 
crap to seduce a ten-year-old, but . . . . " pregnant pause " . . . . 
even if you are sick sonofabitch, you've made my little girl very happy, 
and as long as you aint' into animals or whips or really, really sick 
shit . . . . "
"I'm not, Richard, let me assure you of that . . . . and Ginny is the 
only womyn under eighteen I've ever been with, I swear on my faith as a 
Christian, may I go to Hell if I'm lying . . . . "

" . . . . yeah, right, okay, what the fuck ever . . . . you've brought 
my little Melanie back to life, back to me, for the first time since her 
Mom died, and sicko pervert that you are, I'm forever in your debt . . . 
. that said, these will be the ground rules from now on, or I call the 
police right now, a detective on Raleigh City force is a friend of mine, 
I'll call him at home right now, if you don't agree, unner-stand, Carol?"
"Yes, Richard, I understand . . . . "

"I want my Baby to have a childhood, so you are to encourage her to have 
her own friends her own age and do things other little girls do, and if 
you stay her friend for long, to date boys when that time comes, 'cause 
she ain't no frigging bull-dyke, unndderstand? . . . . . . "
" . . . . next, I know she calls you Mommy, and that's okay with me, but 
you always remind her that her real mommy will always love her . . . . "
"Sure, Richard".
"Shut up and listen until I'm through, Carol . . . . next, while you can 
start coming over here as much as you want, you can't spend the night 
here, ever, and I don't want her spending more than two full nights a 
week with you at your place, understand? . . . . I want you to be a real 
Mommy to her, not just a sick asslicking bitch after her cunny, so as 
long as you and she are friends and whatever the hell else, you are to 
act like a real Mommy to her, take her clothes shopping, take her to the 
movies with you, go to PTA meetings that I can almost never attend with 
her because I'm almost never here, but . . . . but you will not ever let 
her see you kiss or worse any of your bull-dyke friends, ever, anywhere 
or I'll call the cops if hear that you've done so . . . . in public, she 
can tell people that you're her Mommy and you can say that she's your 
daughter, and you can hold hands like Mommy and daughter, but none of 
this lips-kissing-shit in public like you did with the time you dropped 
her off at school . . . . understand? . . . . and if she decides to not 
be your friend any more, that's it, you never call her again or try to 
see her again, or I swear I'll come beat you half to death with a tire 
iron . . . . understand? . . . . "

I understood, but didn't like his tone, not one tiny little bit. I felt 
like lashing out at him for his accusatory and nasty tone, felt like 
asking him if he didn't want to see his daughter and her lover do a 
lesbian love scene right in his living rooom, but . . . . but, actually, 
everything he asked or demanded from me, was reasonable, very 
reasonable. He didn't want to raise the ire or eyebrows of his 
neighbors, he didn't want his precious little girl to get taken away 
from him because of a scandal, and he sincerely did want me to be there 
for her a new, substitute Mommy, because that's what she needed. And he 
wanted her to grow up happy, healthy, and normal, which meant straight 
to him which I understood and didn't mind, to make her own decisions 
about her own life and sexuality when and where appropriate. Swigging 
down the last third of my beer, I got up from my chair to go pee, asking 
him where the powder room was, he pointing down the hall past the open 
doorway between kitchen/dining room and living room, stopped to kiss him 
squarely on the lips just to freak him out and take back some control of 
the moment, with a "yes, Richard, I understand completely, and accept 
your terms and conditions completely . . . . you're a great father, you 
remind me a lot of my own Dad in a lot of ways, you know that?" I 
imparted as I scooted to do my toilet, my first kiss of a grown man 
being somewhat more pleasant than I thought it might have been, 
definitely taking the high ground back from Richard in our 
semi-friendly-near-confrontation.

Coming back into the living room, Ginny was standing beside her Dad, and 
practically leapt into my arms and lap as I sat down.
"I'm so glad . . . . Carol . . . . that you can be my Mommy now, and for 
always and always . . . . . . Daddy says everything's fine now . . . . "
"Yes, Baby, everything's fine . . . . " I cooed back at her, as Richard 
left for a moment, coming back with both a nice 35mm camera and a Super 
8mm movie camera. Gin' and I posed for him in front of the bookcase as 
mothers and daughters are wont to do, putting our arms around each 
other, smiling at him as he took still and moving pictures of us, giving 
each other big hugs, Richard smiling at seeing his daughter so happy, I 
smiling because I was so happy to have things out in the open. And to 
his word, he kept his word forever. I kept my end of the non-bargain he 
presented then for the years that followed, changing the ground rules 
only slightly when a situation called for it, and he never made a single 
wave. In fact, as we spent more time together as a family . . . . yes, a 
family, even going on some picnics and short trips to the beach and 
mountains together, I came to respect and even admire the dedication 
that Richard showed to Ginny, and admire him more and more as a person.

That night of understanding and conciliation also jogged some cobwebs 
and ground-in drudge from my mind somehow. I realized that while I had 
been doing my job at work okay, I really hadn't been putting the 
emphasis on it I should have been, which is why my semi-annual 
evaluation had given me only a "satisfactory" rating instead of my usual 
"superior" or at least "excellent" one at least, and any recommendation 
for a raise was held off until my next evaluation. Considering that I 
was going to be a so-called career woman" and never hetero marry and 
have kids, my career was my kid so to speak, and I needed to quit being 
in such a perpetual fog about Ginny like a love-sick school girl and get 
my focus back at work. Don't get me wrong, the fault wasn't Gin's, it 
was mine, I was the adult in the situation.

I also realized, yeah, stupid me, like I didn't know this, right, that I 
hadn't actually "dated" anyone since I had met Gin'. While I had gone to 
the bars a few times, it was mainly to stay in contact with old friends 
and ex-lovers who were friends, not to seek out any new lovers. Whether 
she realized it or not, Ginny had me wrapped around her little finger 
for the past six months, and that wasn't good, it wasn't good for me, 
and it wasn't good for her, since while I hoped she and I would stay 
platonic friends at least if she ever grew tired of me as a lover, I 
knew in my heart she was basically straight and that she'd eventually 
marry a guy and in the meantime would probably never actually live with 
me as a committed lifepartner. She and I talked several times about this 
latter fact, I feeling almost guilty for wanting to date again, but 
Ginny, being the emotional adult equal to me, convinced me that she 
truly understood why I needed to date other womyn and saw me more as her 
Mommy who she had special fun with and no, she wouldn't be jealous at 
all if I dated other girls or women. I told her I'd have many more 
lovers in my life if I was lucky, but I'd only have one daughter. I 
could feel her smile through the phone when I said that.

Three years later, my dating did lead to the one clear violation of my 
understand with Richard, Ginny's father, that could have really ended up 
with everything gone for me, yes, it could have lead to me losing Ginny 
and Richard having me arrested.

A new gyrl showed one night at Fern's when I stopped in off work after a 
particularly hard day at work, Fern's the local lesbian and bi-womyn's 
and M/F-couples-looking-for-same bar and veggie restaurant, and started 
drinking straight shots of tequila. She looked like and was dressed like 
a Cosmo covergirl, a stunningly beautiful woman of perhaps 23 or 24, 
around my age but a little younger. It being early yet on a weekday, 
none of the usual gang of fellow pussyhounds was around, so I took my 
time and stalked her like a lioness after another lioness.

Her name was Marie, and yes, she was an ex-New York and Paris runway 
model and had even done a couple of magazine covers a couple of years 
back, I knew I had seen that dollface somewhere before, and had made 
enough money in a seven year career to where she could retire for the 
rest of her life is she wanted to, though she planned to take selected, 
higher-paying jobs as long as her looks held out. I handed her my 
business card, told her I'd love to be her accountant, my firm would, 
and she said she already had an accountant but she'd think about. I 
asked her why she was here in Fern's, and she replied she was a Raleigh 
native originally, and had come back home to help take care of her 
mother, who had become very ill. We started talking about family and 
started trading shots, and that night, wound up in my bed.

I admit it, within a week, I was head-over-heels in love with Marie, and 
I think, she, me. While I still called Gin', I only saw Ginny a handful 
of times over the next six or seven weeks that Marie and I were so hot 
and heavy. Call me a blatant sexist if you will, some of the catty ones 
in the gyrl's peanut gallery whom we all knew each other because we all 
went to the same bars and most of us had slept with most of the rest of 
us did, but I think they were just jealous my Marie, my perfect 5'6" 120 
lb.s with perfect wavy brunette hair and perfect breasts and perfect 
teeth and legs and nails actual real-life fashion model package of 
gyrlfriend. During a particularly hot session towards the eight-week 
anniversary of our relationship, when I was spanking Marie over my knee 
with a ping-pong paddle at her request, Marie asked me to start telling 
her my fantasies. No lover had ever asked me to that before, at least 
not during loveplay. I really didn't have many fantasies, I had my 
fantasy girl naked in lap having her cheeks reddened by the paddle 
before I was going to kiss them and make them better, so I made up some 
nonsense to please her about doing a ten-gyrl daisychain, which wasn't a 
fantasy, I had actually done a couple of them and larger ones before.

That's when, between sucking gulps of air between paddle pops, she told 
me of her fantasy of finding and seducing a really young girl, thirteen 
or even younger. I hadn't told her about Ginny yet, I was waiting for 
the right moment. But I was totally in love with Marie. We were planning 
on me moving into her new house in nearby Cary, where her parents knew 
she was a lesbian and lived in one wing of the house and she the other. 
So, being weak, I spilled my guts to her about Ginny. I told her the 
whole story, beginning to present. She threw me back on the bed and ate 
me with a furiosity that only increased as I told her tales of Ginny and 
myself, of Gin's and my lovemaking sessions over the past three years.

What happened next was inevitable. It was so predictable, it wasn't 
funny. Out of being a true fool in love, I talked Ginny into joining us. 
Marie had her fantasy fulfilled, many times over. Oh, God, how I loved 
that woman. I loved my Ginny, but how I loved Marie. I honestly thought 
she was "the one", the one I'd spend the rest of my life with and grow 
old and grey together. Then, what a blind man could see was going to 
happen, happened. The third or fourth time we three were together, Marie 
asked Ginny and me if she could have some time alone with Ginny. I 
didn't see a problem with it, I wasn't jealous. I left them alone, went 
to do some shopping and see a movie, to give them three or four hours 
alone. When I came back, Marie asked me if she could see Ginny alone 
sometime, take her to her place, that she had asked Ginny and Ginny 
didn't mind. I said absolutely, 100% positively, "NO". Huge fight. HUGE 
fucking fight. Screaming. Throwing things. I wasn't jealous at all, 
don't get me wrong, I just didn't want Richard to find out, and make 
Ginny and I split up and maybe have me arrested for multiple statutory 
rapes of Ginny. Leaving, the bitch Marie even keyed my fucking car, in 
typical lesbian "fuck you, whore!!!" leaving-for-good fashion. I had 
forgotten I had told her Ginny's last name, so she somehow found Ginny's 
home phone number, and began calling her, which scared Ginny, she 
telling Marie to leave her alone.

But loose lips can be handy. Marie had been moving bits of her assets 
over my firm to take care of, and I knew from seeing things that she had 
set up offshore tax shelters which were blatantly illegal and she could 
probably end up losing those assets and maybe even going to jail for. I 
had to end up threatening to turn her in, several times, before she got 
the message and left Ginny and me alone, but not before my tires were 
mysteriously slashed, my gas tank mysteriously sugared, and my 
windshield mysteriously bricked one night. Bitch. I needed a new car, 
anyway. Next week, I had a used but good condition two seater Fiat 
ragtop in my driveway. Time for a better car, anyway. Thank my Lord 
Jesus Christ it ended as quick as it did, that Marie got the point of 
jail and financial ruin as quick as she did, or I know Richard would 
have found out if things went on much longer. Never again, I vowed, 
would I tell anyone about Ginny under any circumstances, not at least 
until she turned 18 and no one would care, if Ginny and I were still 
together then, which I prayed to my God every night would happen, that 
we'd be mother and daughter forever.

When Gin' was fourteen, she started hanging out with, not really dating, 
a boy who was in a kid's garage band. He lived just a few houses down 
from her, they knew each other from growing up as neighbors, and liked 
each other as friends. Bobby got her to try out for the lead singer's 
position in the band, but Ginny, never having sung in the choir at her 
own church or at Temple Baptist which she now attended most Sunday's 
with me as my "charge", and sweet thing she is, didn't have much talent 
for, wasn't good at. So, Bobby showed her some chords on his guitar, and 
it turned out she quickly became a better player than he was. The other 
boys in this garage band didn't like having Ginny as a member, except 
for the fact she was that good. When I'd sit sometimes as I'd drop by to 
spend some time with her, being her Mom, and not just her lover, they'd 
let me sit in and play the tambourine or maracas or something. Bobby 
would always loan her guitar when they played, but she really needed her 
own. I wrote sealed letter to Richard and had Ginny give it to him next 
time he came home for a couple of days, about her 15th birthday was 
coming up, and a few days later, he called me from somewhere on the 
road, telling me that "sure, it's okay, and that's a very nice gesture 
on your part, I have no problem with it, thank you for being a good Mom 
to my little girl", and offered to help chip in, I telling him it wasn't 
necessary, that I really wanted to this.

I made Ginny a cake for her 15th birthday, though I knew she could bake 
a better one herself, but I was her Mom. Picking her up from Broughton 
High School, she knew she was getting a birthday present from me, but 
seemed a little, well, a lot disappointed when all I handed her was a 
card as she squeezed into my Fiat convertible. A card with a simple pink 
bow hand-tied around it. She kissed me on the cheek with a cheerful 
"thanks, Mom, I love you . . . . " but with a look of quiet "oh, well" 
on her face.

Inside the Hallmark card was another, smaller, plain piece of 
ivory-colored handmade paper bought from The Paper Plant on Hargett St., 
with the words I had scribbled "Happy Birthday, Ginny, My Baby . . . . 
this card good for one shopping trip to Harry's Guitar Shop . . . . 
budget $1,000 . . . . enjoy! . . . . . . Love, Mom". She literally 
squealed with delight and kissed me full on the lips in front of the 
minions of her classmates who were boarding school buses and climbing 
into their parent's cars to go home. I didn't care. No one knew. We were 
just Mother and Daughter, and don't mothers and daughters kiss each 
other on the lips sometimes, even in public?

She picked out a Fender Strat-o-Caster, I think that's what she called 
it, a used but decent case for it, plus a Carver or Carvin amp, and some 
cables and picks and music books and such. It came to over $1,200,  two 
hundred plus over her budget, but I didn't care. I had the money, and 
she was my little girl. The amp wouldn't fit in the excuse for a trunk 
of my Fiat, so I called a cab, gave him a ten, told him where Gin's 
house was, and to follow us home, stuffing the amp in his trunk, she not 
wanting lose possession of her new used guitar, not even from two feet 
in what passed for a backseat in my Fiat, case nudging my neck to one 
side as we drove home. Home. Good God, how I often wished Richard would 
just let me move in and be a pretend girlfriend to him and step-mom to 
Gin', but in the couple of times I had gently broached the subject with 
him, he had been adamantly against it, unless I would totally agree 
never to see any other womyn, which he and I both knew I never could or 
would, as much as I was in love and loved my Ginny.

Fifteen minutes later, she had the works plugged in, and was cranking 
renditions of "Stairway To Heaven" and "Badge" and "Funk 49". "I wished 
there was a future in rock and roll for women . . . . " I thought to 
myself " . . . . Ginny would have a future in it, if only reality were 
so". I brought her cake out to her, which I had in a cooler in the 
suitcase of a trunk of the Fiat, lit her candles, she stopping only long 
enough to blow them out, not wanting to quit playing even long enough to 
eat a bite from the Duncan Hines cake mix-cake I had somehow baked 
without disaster. She didn't want to touch her take-out pizza, either, 
when it was brought, she just wanted to keep playing. She finally did 
eat some cake and pizza when one of the old strings broke, and she had 
to put on a new set of strings she had just bought with the other stuff 
so they'd all match.

Five hours passed. I watched TV with no volume, happy that my Ginny was 
happy, listening to her repertoire, hearing "Stairway" from the 
screeching amp for the twenty-third time. I had my flannel nightie on, 
having brought that and a change of work clothes for tomorrow. I nudged 
her to come to bed. I was bored, and horny. She was my Baby. I wanted 
her. I always wanted her. Crawling under the covers of her/our bed as my 
Baby-made music twanged on in the living room, I feel asleep, bored, a 
little lonely maybe even, but happy that my Gin' was happy. A couple of 
hours later, the lack of noise made me wake up. Ginny scooted beside me, 
and kissed me firm on the lips as I pretended sleep. I didn't rouse or 
even breath deeper. She knew I was faking. Her fingers found my cunt, 
her face between the opening in my still-clad nightie, we usually 
sleeping nude when together, sucking and biting on a nipple. That 
brought a smile to me. We kissed and smooched as she brought to an 
unhurried orgasm with her hand. "Thanks, Mom . . . . " she whispered to 
me through a deep kiss " . . . . you really don't know how much I love 
you". "Yes . . . . " my voice slipped back " . . . . yes, I do . . . . I 
know you love me as much as I love you, Ginny, my daughter".

A three or four months later, she called me at from school, and asked me 
not to pick her up for our "date", our planned night together that night 
at my place, but to come to her house for dinner and spend the night.
"But your father, you know how he feels about that".
"I told him, and he said it was okay, for tonight, this time, Mom . . . 
. be over at seven, okay?"

I smelled steak and vegetables when I walked in her house, she calling 
to me from the kitchen. Close. It was Chateuu Briand in the oven, one of 
my favorites. She ran to kiss me, and I hugged her close and kissed her 
back hard. My God, how I love her. My hands playfully grabbed her butt, 
but she equally playfully pushed them away, with a "now, Mom, dinner, 
food, first!" and happy smile.

We fed each other bites of the beef tenderloin as we often did, as 
lovers are supposed to do. Finishing the last of the salad and filet 
mignon and ending the perfect meal with her special Key Lime pie, she 
gently took my hands, and lead me to the living room, sitting me down in 
her Dad's easychair, going over the formerly more or less vacant corner 
of the living room she had claimed as her music area. Fishing something 
from a pile of papers, she walked back over to me and handed me a piece 
of hand-written sheet music, giving me a daughterly, not lover-ly, kiss.
"Happy early birthday, or whatever, Mom . . . . I love . . . . I LOVE YOU".

Going back ten feet away from me to sit on a short stool and take her 
guitar in hand, she started playing the song she had written for me, 
"Love Unspoken, Heart Unseen".

. . . . Sometimes love can be hard
. . . . because life usually is
. . . . Sometimes life darkens our hearts
. . . . but love always brightens the gloom away
. . . . Sometimes distance tears lovers apart
. . . . but love always brings them back together

. . . . You are the moonlight guiding my ship
. . . . back home, always back home to you

. . . . You are my Mother Moon, healing me
. . . . from the ravages of Father Sun
. . . . You are my Mother Moon, bringing my heart
. . . . always home to you

Tears filled my eyes with joy. Love for my Ginny filled my heart with 
happiness even more. Bawling like an infant, Ginny rushed to me, asking 
me what was wrong, if I thought the song stunk that bad.
"Oh, no, Baby, I just had never heard anything that beautiful . . . . " 
tears of choking filling my words as I clutched the songsheet she had 
written for me in my hand " . . . . oh, Ginny, my Ginny . . . . I LOVE 
YOU, so much . . . . I love you . . . . "
"I love you, too, Mom . . . . " she cooed back as she held me close " . 
. . . let's go to bed".

The next few months, our relationship was closer than it had ever been, 
or was to be again. I would have given anything, anything, for us to 
live together as wife-and-wife, but she still was too young, and the 
promise of Richard's threat always hung over the boundaries of our 
relationship. I encouraged her to start dating, and finally she did go 
out on some dates, but I could tell her heart wasn't in them.

As her sixteenth birthday approach, Richard and I worked together to 
work out the financing of a car for her. We were ready to almost buy a 
used Buick four-door for her, when a Toyota dealership had a blow-out 
sale one weekend when Richard just happened to home, so between the two 
of us we were able to get her a new Celica two-door hardtop instead of 
something used.

On her birthday, Richard had arranged to be home for that day, off the 
road, and we took her ostensibly out to eat at Sam's Steakhouse from 
school for her birthday, but she knew better. On the way there, as I sat 
in the backseat of Richard's new used Mustang, they in the front, I 
mentioned about needing to get my dry cleaning first from over near 
Crabtree. When we pulled into Anderson Toyota, she saw a new car with 
big ribbon tied around it in the parking lot, and knew it was hers, 
jumping up and down. Her Dad made it very clear that, if she wanted it, 
she was old enough to where she'd have to get a part-time job to pay for 
her own insurance and gas and repairs and such. When we got out of the 
car to look at it, she made us stand next to each other, so she could 
give us both a family-hug together.
"Thanks, Mom . . . . Thanks, Dad . . . " she said over and over again.
"Take off school Friday . . . . " Richard said " . . . . so you can go 
get your license, and Mom, I mean Carol, will call my insurance company 
Monday and have you put on my insurance so you can start driving it 
Tuesday . . . . "
"Thanks, Dad . . . . and THANKS, Mom" she cried again, as she hugged and 
kissed me again and again.

Dinner at Sam's was happy, but muted. It was her sixteenth birthday, and 
she and I couldn't be together that night, because her Dad was home. 
They dropped me off at my place later, and I dove under the covers of my 
lonely bed, no Ginny anywhere near me to hold and be close to, and cried 
myself to sleep.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

When Gin' decided to lose her virginity at age sixteen to her highschool 
sweetheart, I got her "Our Bodies, Ourselves", and made an appointment 
for her with my gynecologist for her first pelvic which she needed 
anyway and to get some birth control pills. I told Dr. Brown that she 
was my niece, the daughter of my sister (which I never had) who died 
years ago and whom I was acting as guardian for, my/our usual cover 
story. He never questioned it, as never did any teacher or anyone else 
ever in authority when she or I would tell them usually that I was her 
step-mom, the difference in our ages being obviously closer to ten than 
to twenty or more. Dr. Brown didn't mind me being in the exam room with 
her as he probed and poked her in his AMA-approved ritual. I got him to 
save me the plastic speculum he used on her, of which later I showed her 
how to exam her own cervix like our old college womyn's group used to do 
with that and a hand-mirror.

The night she lost her virginity, a few months or so later, she drove 
her new Celica over to my place. With the freedom of her new car that 
her Dad and I bought for her sixteenth birthday, came a new sense of 
independence and womynhood-liness that I hadn't expected. She had moved 
more and more of her stuff into my place, and finally, we were almost 
living together as committed lovers, though she always went home when 
her Dad came back on his days off.

The night she lost her virginity, she came home with a total grin on her 
face that you couldn't have wiped off with a sledgehammer. She kissed me 
deeply as we made out like two schoolgirls on the couch, as she told me 
about how she let her boyfriend of some months finally "seduce" her. On 
and on and on about his cock inside her, even though my fingers and 
tongue had been in the same place hundreds if not thousand of times 
since she was ten. On and on about how he had eaten her to get her wet 
before penetrating, though I had the same except better literally 
thousands of times to her. On and on about how he got back hard 
immediately after coming inside her, so she had given him a blowjob to 
completion. Yuck. I thought that's what I was tasting inside her mouth. 
His come, stale. Yuck. On and on and on. I knew right then that, zero 
doubt, that despite all our years together, she was straight.

Oh, sure, she enjoyed being a lover to me, the sex between us was if 
anything more incredible than ever in the past, and she really loved me 
for being her "Mom", but alas, I'm enough of a lesbian and a realist to 
recognize when another woman is straight, and in my heart of hearts, I 
always knew that my Ginny was straight.

Fucking her boyfriend Joseph earlier, losing her hetero virginity to 
him, really had her both horny and wound up tighter than a drum. I was 
hurt by her continued gushing over him, though it wasn't unexpected. I 
tried my best not to show my jealousy and pain. She sensed it a little, 
but was too horny and wanted to jump these old bones of mine to care. 
Call me human. Call me a jerk. As much as I loved her, call me a cab if 
you will. I just wanted her to leave and go back to her place, but she 
wanted to fuck, and fuck badly. I told her I had a new game I us to try. 
Removing some sash ropes from my living room window drapery treatment, I 
tied her up, arms behind her back, as she kneeled naked on our bed.

Finding the old beach paddleball set I had bought when she and her 
father and I had gone to the beach for a weekend trip together as a 
family, I took one of the paddles out as a playtoy. Her ass wantonly 
exposed and helpless to me, I began an unmercifully beating of her 
asscheeks, hard, taking out my frustrations and hurts upon her ass and 
exposed pussy. She cried for me to stop as she thrashed around tied up 
on the bed, but I just continually cooed back to her how much I truly 
loved her, because I did, enough to be really hurt by her fucking a guy 
and actually enjoying it.

I did stop, eventually, only to hardfuck both her pussy and ass with our 
"friend", a strap-on dildo we both used on each other at times for 
variety, my assfuck of her being her first. If Joseph could take her 
hetero cunt virginity, then by God, I'd make sure I took her last one. 
Thing was, as rough as I was with her, she thought, I think, it was done 
from passion and lust, not anger. We fucked through most of the night. I 
let her tie me up and paddle me just to keep things "even", something 
she found out that she really didn't like to do or enjoyed, that being 
our first time playing tie-up games together. Our furious and intense 
love-and-anger-making went on until five a.m. the next morning. She 
ended up being late for school and I for work.

She didn't call me and I didn't call her for a week. We both knew why, 
though, actually, we didn't know why. We did, but we didn't want to say 
why. When she called, she asked if she could come over and pick some of 
her stuff up, which had grown to be quite an accumulation, more than 
half of her clothes and such hanging in my closets. I thought she was 
going to break up with me, having discovered her "straightness", but 
thankfully, that wasn't the case. She ended up spending the night, but 
our lovemaking was easy, quiet, happy, placid, and whole bunch of other 
adjectives that translate into more or less "boring".

Well, that's not entirely fair to say it like that. We had spent six 
years being lovers, and while I had taught her everything in the 
beginning, she was becoming more and more her own person, as is such as 
life. I was genuinely happy she was becoming more her own womyn. She was 
still "my" Ginny, my daughter, my little girl. But she was growing up. 
Our lovemaking was becoming increasingly more oral-oriented, with less 
intense hand-frigging, less "toys", and much to my sadness, less and 
less intense kissing and making out, something I'd almost rather do than 
anything else with a woman I love. Our kisses were still lips-to-lips, 
but fewer and fewer tongue-wrestling-matches took place.

Her times with me went from two and three or more times and nights per 
week together, down to just a couple or even one per week, as she began 
dating more and more boyfriends. Sigh.

By the time her high school graduation rolled around, we had settled 
into a routine of a phone call every day, if just to say "hi", I was 
still her Mom in her eyes and heart after all, but our nights together 
had become our weekly night together, usually a Tuesday or Wednesday 
night, so as not to interfere with her busy weekends with her 
boyfriends. Almost out of self-defence and out of growing loneliness for 
sure, I threw myself back into the fern-and-smoked-glass local lesbian 
and gay bar scene, which now consisted over ten bars where fellow 
travelers could be found, though truth be known, while there were some 
new faces from time to time, it was still the same bunch of raggedly old 
haggardly cunts.

For her graduation present, Richard, her Dad, and I all went on a trip 
up and down the East Coast, Richard and I having arranged our vacation 
schedules to allow us to do this for her.  Ginny for some reason had 
always wanted to see Maine, so with no schedule set, we just started 
driving north from Raleigh to Maine in a rented Lincoln, a busman's 
holiday for Richard if there ever was one, but he didn't mind. We 
stopped off and played tourist what we could time allowing, in D.C. and 
Philly and New York City and such, stopping for a day or two here and 
there as the mood suited us. It was a nice trip. At night, we'd all 
sleep in different hotel rooms, though it cost more to do it that way, 
but I didn't push it with Richard. Ginny really wanted her privacy, too. 
We didn't sleep together, make love, even for a five-minute quickie, 
that whole two weeks, not that I missed it that much. I just missed her, 
my Ginny, that much.

We drove around Maine for three or four days, mainly seeing the 
coastline, making Ginny happy, drove over to Montreal and back in a 
couple of days, then dropped the rental Lincoln off in Portland and flew 
back home from there, the first airline flight for Ginny and Richard, 
though Richard had more miles on his butt from his trucking job than 
most airliner captains.






~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



She didn't want to try to go State or another college, hadn't been 
preparing for it at all as her father and I both knew, and wouldn't hear 
of even trying. She just wanted to get a job and get her own place and 
as she would say "live life". Richard and I both told her to hold on to 
her youth and carefree days as long as she could, that life would 
envelope her fast enough without her seeking it out.

Out of being nagged to death, and my little Ginny can be quite stubborn 
and a nagger when she wants to be, growing up adult will do that to you, 
she persuaded her father to put in a good word for her at his work, the 
Winn-Dixie warehouse up on S. Wilmington Street near where they lived, 
and she was hired into a trainee spot in the shipping department, 
checking the shipments of grocerys and dry goods as they came off of the 
literal miles of train cars each day.

She started nagging me and Richard for a small loan to go ahead and get 
her own place. Her Dad wouldn't do it, encouraging her to live at home 
and save some money since she had free run of their place anyway three 
or more weeks out of the month, but she was adamant. Using that desire 
as leverage, I told I'd loan her the money, but only if she agreed to 
start taking night classes at Wake Tech and begin working her way 
towards an Associate's degree in business or accounting or similar. She 
could have saved up enough money by staying home just another three or 
four months, but she wanted out right then, so she took the loan, after 
showing me she had enrolled in three night classes for next quarter that 
were part of the AA in business curriculum. I was her Mom after all, you 
expected me not to act like one?

She then moved into a vacant rental house just four houses down from her 
dad's, a nice small one but one showing it's age somewhat, and 
immediately took in two other girls her age as roommates, the small 
cottage having two other small bedrooms besides the one decently large 
one, which she kept for herself. Richard and I gave her some older 
furniture and curtains and dishes and pots and pans and old silverware 
and throwrugs and towels and sheets and table lamps and such from our 
respective places to help fill her new-to-her vacant first place of her 
own, and took turns co-signing for her to help her get her lights and 
phone and cable turned on.

In the meanwhile, I had been made a V.P. over at M&P, the last step 
before becoming a full partner, becoming a full partner requiring a 
$40,000 cash buy-in upfront, which I knew I could get them to advance me 
if needed because of the change in attitudes and lattitudes about women 
in the workplace, that, and my client list was now almost a full 
one-fourth of total billings. Of course, truth be known just to you and 
me, being single and having no kids not counting my Ginny and having 
basically no vices, no expensive ones at least, I had almost $40,000 in 
CD's saved up and stashed back, plus another $10,000 or so in a loaded 
Lipper growth fund. Living cheap and eating cheap and driving cheap lets 
you do that, that's what I tell all my clients, because I live it. It's 
called thrift.

My love life, my love life outside of Ginny, was looking up. An old 
ex-lover had arranged a blind date with a friend of a friend of hers who 
was moving here to work at a firm out in RTP, a lovely and smart 
attorney a little older than me named Janice, and if it wasn't love at 
first, it was love not much later after.

I immediately told her the whole story, the whole truth about Ginny's 
and my relationship, and while shocked at first, it didn't freak her 
out. I told her that as long as Ginny wanted me in her life, I was going 
to be there for her, and she said, and I think meant it when she said 
it, that she understood and accepted it. She made it very clear that 
whatever Ginny and I did as lovers, she considered Ginny to be my 
daughter, and not her competition.

And, at least, she didn't even think about let alone ask wanting Ginny 
to join us sometime, thank the Lord. Ginny was a grown woman of eighteen 
now with her own place and wasn't a target for pedophiles like me, like 
I had accidentally become that one time many years ago. I could tell 
that like me, Janice was an experienced and oft-loved lover, and our 
lovemaking reflected that, she also having come out of the radical 
feminist-excuse-to-seduce-womyn college movement when she was in law 
school. Her experiences in college lead her not just into and out of 
radical feminism, which she like I now considered to be a farce created 
by womyn-hating men, but also into and out swinging with M/F couples, 
which she did a lot before getting tired of sorting through the phonies 
to find the nice ones. We talked a lot about her swinging experiences, 
and she was equally fascinated by my "find, feed, and fuck 'em" straight 
as well as gay womyn deflowering campaign and stage I went through when 
I was younger and saw doing so a political more than sexual statement, 
and all the womyn-oriented group sex I had back then.

One day at work, Ginny called me, something she seldom did any more, and 
I asked if everything was all right. She replied "sure, Mom, I just had 
a phone call, great news!, and I wanted to share it with you 
immediately". She had told me last week during our usual Wednesday night 
"date" that she had auditioned for a job with The Band Of Oz, a local 
Carolina Beach Music-style and 60's white soul cover band, but felt they 
hadn't taken her seriously, stopping her after just three songs. But 
Dave Peterson, the lead singer and more or less leader of the group, had 
just called her and told her she had the job, of second rhythm guitar 
player, and now could claim to be the only girl ever hired as a musician 
for the band.
"My first gig with them is tonight at Red's . . . . I know you got a 
membership there . . . . will you come, Mom?"
"Like I'd miss it for the world?" I happily sighed back. I couldn't have 
been prouder of my Baby up on the stage that night cranking out 
undertracks to "Up On The Boardwalk" and "I Love Beach Music" and "Smoke 
Gets In Your Eyes" than if she would have been my own flesh-and-blood. I 
got hit on by three different guys that night, they pestering me when I 
just wanted to drink beer and listen to my Ginny play her little heart 
out at her first paying gig in peace, blowing them off by telling that I 
was a lesbian and wasn't interested, a standard blow-off line for a lot 
of women in bars but this time one which happened to be the truth. The 
next morning, I called a lawyer who I had recruited for our firm as a 
client, wanting a favor from him.

"Bill, I'd like to adopt my daughter" I began the conversation. He 
didn't hear me quite right.
"Well, Carol, you're a single woman, there's very few adoptable infants 
out there, there's a prejudice against non-two-parent households wanting 
to adopt . . . . we might could find you a special needs or older child, 
but it'd still be a next-to-impossibility for you . . . . "
"Bill . . . . friend . . . . shut up for a second, and listen . . . . I 
said I wanted to adopt my daughter, not someone else's . . . . ", then 
dead silence for a moment.
"Carol, if she's already your daughter, why would you want to adopt her? 
. . . . that makes no sense . . . . "
"Because she's not my child by birth or marriage . . . . I simply have 
been acting as her 'guardian at litem' since she was ten, with the 
consent of her father . . . . her mother died when she was five or six, 
and she and I became friends when she was ten, and she's been calling me 
Mom ever since, I've been acting as her Mom ever since, almost nine 
years now . . . . "
"There's nothing kinky going on here, is there, Carol?"
"Oh, for Pete's sake, Bill, you used to go to my church when you first 
came to town yourself . . . . you remember her, don't you . . . . little 
girl, long hair in ponytails, she was known in church as my sister's kid 
. . . . "
"Oh . . . . you mean Ginny?"
"Uh-hu".
"What does her father say about this, and what does she say about this . 
. . . and how old is she, you say she's nineteen?"
"Eighteen, almost nineteen".
"Since she's eighteen, she's legally emancipated now anyway, the only 
way we could make it fly it to have all of you petition a judge together 
in a motion for adoption, you'd all have to go to court and state why 
you wanted it done".
"I really want this to happen . . . . could you fax me over some case 
law on it, and if I can arrange things on my end, will you push it for me?"
"Sure, but it'll cost you $5,000 plus office fees and court costs, and 
will take at least six months to schedule in".
"Done".

I left a message with Ginny to have Richard call me. He called me back a 
couple of days later, saying he was off the road for a couple of days. I 
told him I wanted to talk to him, but not over the phone. A few hours 
later, he greeted me, Old Milwaukee in hand, in a dirty undershirt and 
torn shorts and sneakers, three days growth of beardstubble showing and 
smelling of needing a shower. I drank a beer with him as we watched the 
local news. Then I dropped my request on him about adopting Ginny. He 
got quiet, very very quiet. I thought he might be getting to explode in 
anger, but he just took a last swig out his beer, then said "no . . . . 
no . . . . end of story . . . . next question".
"Can I have another beer?"
"Sure . . . . Mommy . . . . " he laughed as he went to fetch us fresh 
ones. He was being cruel without really meaning to, I think " . . . . 
you know you're damned attractive for an older dyke with no tits and too 
short legs, you know that, don't you, Carol?"
"And you're not so bad yourself for slightly overweight, balding, 
yellow-teethed, undereducated and over-opinionated walking dick 
supportive attachment, either, Richard."
"You want me, dontcha?"
"No, not right at this moment . . . . maybe after we finish splitting 
the case, maybe we'll see then, when you start looking like you have a 
real pussy instead of just the absence of external genitalia."
We both laughed at that one.

Gin's 19th birthday came and went. She said she really didn't want 
anything special this year from either her Dad or me. She was lying. I 
gave her a new color TV, and her Dad gave her a better set of speakers 
for her stereo, she being a musician now that actually got paid for 
working part-time at it and accumulating musical things and tapes and 
records and such. I got her to go with me to my stylist. I knew she 
hadn't been to a beauty shop since leaving home, and her hair was now to 
her waist, which I knew she didn't like it that long. We went out to eat 
after getting it trimmed to a more manageable shoulder-length, and ended 
up having pleasant unscheduled, non-Wednesday night lovemaking session 
together. All she wanted to talk about afterwards, after sharing our 
comfortable lesbianism with each other, was her boyfriends, was men. I 
told I wasn't interested in having a sex change operation to become one, 
as much as I loved her. She punched me playfully in the ribs, then went 
to sleep in my arms.

A few weeks later, the phone range at 4 a.m. on a Tuesday night.
"Mrs. Black? . . . . "
"Uh . . . . uh, Miss Black . . . . who wants to know, please?"
"Deputy Bernado, Wake County Sherrif's Department . . . . "
"Uh . . . . is something wrong, why are you calling me this late?"
"Miss Black, we have your step-daughter, Ginny Moore, in custody, and we 
need you to come down to the Wake County Courthouse and see the 
magistrate and bail her out if you can".
"Uhhhh . . . . what's she done?"
"She was caught driving around midnight leaving Kelly's Bar on Wake 
Forest Road at a checkpoint with a .15 blood-alcohol level . . . . in 
one way, be thankful, Miss Black, because in less than a week, the 
drinking age is going back up to 21, and if it was then and not now, 
she'd have been charged with a misdemeanor . . . . right now, all it is 
is a DWI . . . . "
"Uh, thanks, officer . . . . I'll be right down."

She looked scared in the holding cell surrounded by real criminals, 
frightened to death, shaking. The magistrate wouldn't take a check, so I 
had to go across the street to a 24-hour bondsman who would and spend 
$50 non-refundable to get the $500 release bond. She expected me to go 
into full Mom-mode as the jailer let her out, but I didn't.
"Thanks for bailing me out, Mom".
"You're welcome, daughter".
"You won't tell Dad, will you?"
"Not unless he finds out from someone else and asks me about it, no, I 
won't tell . . . . you're a grown woman now and have to learn to face 
the consequences of your own actions . . . . and you will pay me back in 
full the $50 for the bond to get you out . . . . "
"I will Mom, I will, I'll pay you when I get paid this week, promise".
" . . . . and don't worry, I'm not going to try punish you myself, the 
astronomical hike in your insurance rates will be punishment enough, if 
they don't make you to assigned risk anyway, being caught drunk at age 
nineteen . . . . "
"Oh, shit, that's right . . . . " she said, then puked in her lap and on 
her seat and floorboards.
" . . . . and you can also clean that up, when we get home . . . . "
" . . . . can I sleep with you tonight, Mom?"
"Sure . . . . but not before cleaning this mess up, I've got to drive it 
to work in the morning . . . . where's your car? . . . . "
"In the service impound . . . . "
"I'll try to get out for you tomorrow, but you'll owe me for that, too".

At home, she slept gently in my arms, nursing on my left nipple like a 
baby, her finger gently diddling my clit, her breath stinking of beer 
and puke. God, how I wanted still to adopt her. We showered together 
after the alarm, washing the puke off her pants in the machine so she 
could wear them to work again and save a trip back to her place. In the 
shower, she dropped to her knees and gently anally probed and massaged 
me as she licked my clit from the front. How perfect a daughter and 
lover she was. I had to make her stop or we'd have never left the shower 
let alone make it to work. The towing and impound fee later that day 
came to almost two hundred dollars. Lesson learned.

I met Janice at lunch at her employer's cafeteria in "the Park". Since 
all Fortune 500 companies in RTP were so scattered out among the 
thousands of acres and since almost no restaurants were nearby, all of 
RTP's resident giants had lunch cafeterias built-in as part of their 
buildings.

"I just closed on my house last Friday . . . . " she commented, our last 
date together being the night before " . . . . and I just can't wait to 
get out of that dumpy apartment I'm in, not unlike yours . . . . " dead 
silence, then I smiled at her, silent still " . . . . oh, I'm sorry, 
Dear, but you know, you make more money than I do, and you still live, 
well . . . . "
"I live thriftly, Janice . . . . thriftily . . . . "
"I'm sorry, Carol . . . . it's just that I know you can afford to buy 
your own house . . . . and guess what . . . . and this is my luck . . . 
. actually, it can become your luck . . . . I paid almost $135,000 for 
my house in Brentwood last week, and this morning, I saw a "For Sale By 
Owner" go up on one just five houses down from me, for just $85,000 . . 
. . it's smaller, and has a smaller yard, but I think it's a steal . . . 
. here's the number of the owner, give them a call, it's at 1019 
Browning Place . . . . I'd just love to have you as my neighbor, Carol . 
. . . " she sweetly and sincerely intoned.

Three months later, I was the proud owner of my first house. Real estate 
like that in North Raleigh was escalating at rates higher than 25%, when 
I was only getting 14% on my CD's. So a lot of those suckers were cashed 
in, and I paid more than half down meaning a mortgage of only $375 a 
month, and still had close to $10,000 in liquidity, not counting my 2% 
annual fee loaded Lipper growth fund.

Ginny was excited for me when I told her the news as we spent our last 
night together in my true dump of my apartment, if it had been my home 
for so many years. The neighborhood decaying, crack was just starting to 
show its ugly head from the poorer neighborhoods around me, more 
break-ins and mugging were taking place than ever before, it was time to 
leave, time to move on with my life. She said she wanted to break our, 
our new home, her word not mine,  in properly. For a moment, I thought 
my hope of hopes, my prayer of prayers was being answered. Was she 
actually proposing we live together as wife-and-wife? God gave me a 
quick answer through her. Nope. She just wanted to cook for me and have 
a night of wild, abandoned sex with me. Sounded like a plan to me.

The poached salmon with shallots she had preliminarily prepared at home 
and brought to work to bring to my house and finish cooking was 
delicious. Even her roommates, whom I had briefly talked with the few 
times I had dropped in at her place, told me they had all gained several 
pounds each, the result of her love of cooking. And the French Silk pie. 
We laughed and giggled like school girls, with an intimacy and comfort 
level neither of us had felt for some time for some reason or reasons, 
as we daubed the chocolate filling on each other's faces and licked each 
other clean.

God also had a sense of humor, and of fairness, that night. For the 
first time ever in our nine years together, we both had started our 
periods at the same time, the day before. We body-painted each other 
with our womynly essences in the shower, before licking the patterns off 
with exaggerated and erotic tongue actions. Our relationship had begun 
all those years ago with menstrual sex, and we always enjoyed and played 
through when either of us was dripping, but until then, we had never 
synched, and knew the night was special.

Kid like, we played "mad bomber". I lay in the bed and she stood up over 
me, her legs astride my head, drops of her fluid leaking down on me, 
trying to hit the "target", my open mouth. Then I did her similarly, we 
laughing with delight all the while. She won that competition, ten hits 
to seven. We intertwined our legs together and humped our cunts and 
clits close, as we liked to do. The fact that I could feel her menstrual 
fluid and she mine leak all over us made us that much hotter. She began 
kissing me deeply, hard, passionately, more so than she had done in 
months or longer. My Ginny was back. I fucked her pussy with our trusty 
strap-on, then bare-backed her asshole with it, using her blood as 
lubrication, then she mine. My Ginny was mine, my Ginny was indeed back.

Our weekly nights together increased back to two or three per week, 
which was almost too many for me right then, since I was also heavily 
dating Janice who now lived just five yards down, we alternating whose 
place we ended up sleeping together at after dates, but Janice 
understood and didn't raise a stink. Just as soon as Ginny's new passion 
for me rose, it also fell, fell back to our usual once-a-weeker 
Wednesday night together.
"I've got another serious boyfriend, Mom, that's all". Sigh. But what 
can a mother say?

Another few months later, Ginny showed up at my place, as I was mowing 
grass and doing yardwork on a Saturday morning. She was wearing a white 
wedding dress. She was also wearing a cheap chip of an engagement ring 
and was wearing an excuse of a man wearing a cheap ill-fitting ratty 
suit, something which looked like she had found at a homeless shelter 
and brought home to feed some of her great homecooking to out of pity.
"Mom . . . . this is Ray . . . . he's . . . . don't be mad at me, Mom . 
. . . he's my husband . . . . and Mom, I'm pregnant."
I kissed and hugged her, and tried to air-kiss him, he smelling like the 
grease pit of a bad garage, but he planted me one right on the lips anyway.
"Good to meet you, Mrs. Black, I'll make your daughter very happy . . . 
. I know I'll have to, or she Ginny you'll turn me into the IRS, 
hahahahaha."
Sigh. Just in my mid-30's, and already a grandmother. Sigh.

The marriage last an entire month. I didn't think it would have lasted 
that long. She came home from work early one day, and caught her excuse 
for an unhusband in bed with a crack whore, fucking and smoking crack. 
She ran him out into the street only half-kiddingly chasing him with a 
butcher knife, and he never came back to even get his clothes or pay for 
the long-distance bills he ran up, for some unknown reason. She asked me 
to take her to the Raleigh Women's Clinic the following Monday. One baby 
gone, but one baby, my Baby, was still with me. At least she hadn't 
kicked her roommates out of her house as the creep has asked to do, so 
they could have their "honeymoon privacy", so she wasn't stuck that way.

After Ray and the abortion, she didn't see me for an entire two months 
or longer, and quit calling me every day for a while, only calling every 
third or fourth day or so. She even talked about quitting her gig with 
The Band Of Oz, but thankfully I persuaded her not to, knowing how much 
her music meant to her. I called Bill about her filing for divorce from 
the creep, and he said he'd take care of things and send me the bill 
later, just have her call him. He asked about "the adoption", and I told 
him her father had vetoed it, end of that story.

I finally showed up unannounced at her place, and wanted to took her out 
for a drinking binge, get it out of her system. I told her let's go out 
"hunting".
"But, Mom . . . . you like women, and I like guys!"
"So, let's go out and pick up some guys" I replied.
"You're not serious".
"Yes . . . . yes, I am . . . . I'm not saying I'll fuck 'em, I just want 
to help you find them, at least one of them . . . . you gotta get out of 
this funk, girl, gyrlfriend, Ginny, my daughter . . . . "
She hugged me and we laughed together, the first time she had laughed in 
weeks.

"Tell you what, Baby . . . . let's go the Longbranch, have some guys buy 
us some drinks, you and I'll dance with some, you pick out the most 
handsome guy in the place, at least the one you want to fuck, and we'll 
approach him as a team, swell his head together, both tell him that he's 
one of the most handsome men we'd ever seen, and that we are mother and 
daughter, and we both want him . . . . that we'll do a mother/daughter 
lesbian show for him, and, but, he can fuck only you afterwards, after 
you and I do our show together for him . . . . "

For the longest time, she wrapped her arms around my neck and looked 
deeply at me with lost eyes.
"You'd really . . . . really, do that for me, Mom?"
"Of course I will, Baby, or I wouldn't have suggested it . . . . you 
want us to go find a stud to fuck, or what?"
"Mom . . . . you really don't know how much I love you . . . "
"Yes, I do . . . . Ginny . . . . you love me as much as I love you."

The Longbranch was packed for an early weeknight. Ooops. Dilbert 
McClinton was playing the mainstage, that was why, forgot. Ginny had 
worn her favorite tight black dancing dress with a sideslit almost to 
her butt, and I had stopped by the house to change into a more refined 
but still sexy white cocktail dress that showed my open cleavage to be a 
little more than nature actually put there. Within minutes, we had our 
target picked out, but played it cool, both shot him glances and hair 
flips, but bided our time until he decided to work his way over to us, 
which we knew he eventually would. Guys were buying us drinks right and 
left. Gin' was now technically underage with the recent law change to 21 
and all, but had anticipated that, getting a realistic-looking fake 
Maryland driver's license from some source that Red of Red's Beach Club 
where she and her band played knew.

Mr. Studmiester, a TDH (tall, dark, handsome specimen of a man if I say 
so myself) finally worked his way over to us after a couple of hours, 
about the time we both were feeling quite pleasantly tanked, thank you.
"Hi, I'm Rodney . . . . "
"Hello, Rodney" I slurred.
"Hello, Rod . . . . how much of a 'rod' do you actually have, and can it 
stay 'rodded' for longer than ten minutes?" Ginny plasteringly asked.
"I've got ten inches of rod that can last as long as you want it to . . 
. . but before we begin to test it here at the bar, would either of you 
ladies care to dance?"
"What about dancing with both of us?"
"Ladies' choice, as always".

Gin' and I just laid it out on the dance floor. I'm not much of a 
dancer, except for slow, cheek-to-cheek dancing with other womyn at 
quieter gay clubs, but I was doing this for Ginny, my daughter, so I let 
it all hang out. We danced three songs together as a terpsechorian 
triad, then found a quiet booth towards the door of the adjacent country 
lounge. There wasn't any point being shy, or holding back.

"Rodney . . . . I'm Carol . . . . and this is my daughter, Ginny . . . . "
"How do you do . . . . " he respectfully acted, shaking our hands from 
across the booth, after twenty minutes of body-grinding each other out 
on the dance floor. Gin' and I just looked at him like he was our next 
meal and we hadn't eaten in a month, because he was and she hadn't.

"Rodney . . . . Rod? . . . . here's the deal . . . . " I taking control 
of the moment " . . . . and you weren't kidding about having a decent 
tool that can last long, were you? . . . . "
"No, Carol, Ginny, I wasn't, I promise . . . . "
" . . . . here's the deal, Rodney . . . . no lies from us, and no lies 
from you, either, deal?"
"Deal"

"Any diseases or jealous girl or boyfriends out in the club we should 
know about?" he laughing friendly.
"No, no diseases, and no one's with me tonight."
"We're clean, too, so good". My God, I was starting for some reason to 
sound like Joan Rivers on the Tonight Show.

"Here's the deal, Rod, let me finish, and then simply say yes, or no, 
okay? . . . . I'm a lesbian, always have been always will be, never been 
with a man, never want to be with one . . . . my daughter, Ginny, on the 
other hand is straight . . . . we've fooled around a few times, and 
she's okay doing that, but she really likes men, not women, except for 
me . . . . got it so far?"
"Got the picture, Carol, got it".
"Gin's not been laid in over three months, and is climbing the walls for 
some decent cock . . . . this is the deal . . . . we all take a cab to 
my place . . . . you'll take cab back here to get your car later . . . . 
you're driving, right?"
"Uh-hu . . . . " he coughed out, the possible fantasy coming true slowly 
working its way in his mind.
"We'll blindfold you going out so can't see your way back to my place . 
. . . don't worry, we're not going to rob or set you up, this is legit . 
. . . buy us another drink, Rod, we're thirsty . . . . "
"Waiter! . . . . " he practically yelled to a waiter passing nearby " . 
. . . you're both drinking Seven and Seven's right? . . . . two more 
7&7's, pronto!!!"

" . . . . as I was going to say, if Ginny wants to see you again, she'll 
give you her phone number, but after tonight, you'll never see me again, 
correct? . . . . " he bobbing his head up and down in growing hope but 
still partial disbelief

" . . . . anyway, Ginny and I will do a long, slow lesbian scene 
together for your enjoyment and entertainment, then you and she will 
fuck like she wants . . . . I'll be there to watch, but I won't touch 
you, and you won't attempt to touch me at anytime . . . . and she and I 
may or may not do another scene together after you and she are through . 
. . . and if she wants to continue with you, you'll go home with her to 
her place . . . . agreed?"

I thought he was going to swallow his tongue as he gulped too hard 
before somehow getting out an " . . . . agreed!!!". Before blindfolding 
him with Ginny's larger (than mine) bra, we gave both him and the 
cabdriver staring at us through the rearview mirror a show, making out 
like bandits a fraction of an inch from his face in front of him but not 
letting him join us in the kiss.

He was even more handsome naked than he was clothed. Obviously worked 
out, but not too much. Firm, hardbody, flat stomach, but not a weight 
nut. I don't know about a ten-incher, not having seen a real cock in 
real-life that up close and personal before, but Gin' later told me the 
next day afterwards that it was an honest seven or eight.

We began slowly, doing a double-strip tease of each other.
"Carol . . . . Ginny . . . . you two really are mother and daughter?" he 
asked with growing hard and shedding disbelief.
"We certainly are . . . . want to call her Dad and my ex-husband and ask 
him? . . . . we can do that if you want, if it'll put you more at ease . 
. . . "

Every Penthouse letter he had ever read I could see was flooding his 
mind. I could see he was mentally writing his own as we did our strip 
for him dancing to some song on the radio as he sat in my dressing chair 
in my master bedroom, but discarding the idea as too preposterous even 
for Penthouse. Hey, I can't help it if I like to read Penthouse for the 
articles and never notice the beautiful nude womyn in them, I swear!

"No . . . . no, that's not necessary . . . . " he eeked.

" . . . . just relax, Rod, and we'll all have fun, with your rod, 
hehehehe" schoolgirl laughter teasing at him.

He pulled the chair around to get a closer and better view. I playfully 
pushed Gin' sideways on to the bed, and kneeled at the edge of it to 
slowly eat her out, making sure he could see every delicious lick of her 
cuntal lips and clit.
"What would you like to see us do, Rod? . . . . . . we'll do anything 
you ask, just ask, hehehehe".
"Uhhhhhh . . . . ddduhhhhh" was all he could say. If I'd have asked him 
what two plus two, I'm sure "uhhhhhh" or "ddduhhhh" would have been his 
answer.

"An 'uhhhh', hu? . . . . that translates to a sixty-nine I think . . . . 
c'mon, Rod, finish stripping, join us on the bed, be closer, just no 
touching until I say so, okay?"
Ginny and I smooched and kissed each other deeply for a long while as he 
watched us from inches away.

"When can I fuck him, Mom? . . . . " she softly whispered to me " . . . 
. . . he's hard already, he's playing with himself for gosh sake's . . . 
. I want his cock, Mom, you promised"
"Yes, I did my daughter . . . . let's sixty-nine a little for him, give 
me my come for tonight, then you can have him as long as you want . . . 
. I'll stay here and watch, if you'd like . . . . "
"Yes, Mom, I'd like that".

We sixty-nined just long enough for Gin' to bring me off. I frigged her 
as I licked away atop her. I motioned for Rod to joining me dining at 
"the Y". He was in a total trance. He joined me at Ginny's cunt, licking 
away, and raised up for a second, tried to kiss me, but I gently scolded 
him "no", reminding him he was for her only, not me. My sweet sometimes 
bitch of a daughter pushed me off as soon as she felt me come, urging 
him to her. I quickly rolled over to the nightstand, retrieving from the 
drawer and tossing him a couple of condoms, since I was unsure if Ginny 
had been taking her pills after Ray had left, or not.

I sat in my dressing chair and watched the two of them together. It was 
like watching a boring old standard porn movie made for a straight 
audience, which I had seen just a couple of in the past. He just stayed 
on top of her mainly, fucking his big dick attached to his little brain 
away inside her.

Ginny was grinning ear-to-ear with him atop her. Sigh. She was straight, 
I reminded myself. He hadn't lied about being long-lasting. After an 
hour, she asked him is she could get on top.

I joined them. Gin' and I kissed, me just to the side of them as she 
rode him, and played with each other's breasts, giving him the show of 
his life. A look came over his face like I've never seen a human being 
exhibit before or since. I wasn't sure if he was going to have an 
epileptic fit, or have a heart attack and die on us. Like that was the 
last thing Gin' or I needed, a dead cock on our hands, literally. I 
reached and rubbed her pussy from the front as he fucked her. My hand 
was touching his hard member of course as I joined his cock with my hand 
inside her, frigging her and rubbing her cunt as she arched her head 
back and asked me to concentrate on rubbing her clit.

Then, Ginny's Rod literally and figuratively started trembling and 
shaking, both on the bed and inside her, I feeling his member pulse 
inside her as I rubbed her clit and lips. Rod got all stiff, literally 
and figuratively, as he stared up at the ceiling and began making a 
strange "zzzzzhhhhh . . . . sssshhhhzzzzz . . . . sszzuuuuhhhhh . . . . 
" series of sounds, while popping his cork inside my Ginny.

"Awwww . . . . . . awwww, shit, I mean shucks, Mom, look what you made 
him go ahead and do . . . . and I wanted more cock, Mooohhhoommm!!" she 
playfully but half-seriously fussed at me.

"I wasn't the only one doing something to him, young lady . . . . " I 
crossed playfully, playing the scene for all it was worth " . . . . in 
fact, I was concentrating on you totally, not him, it's your fault, not 
mine."
We kissed again for a long minute, giving him the full show. "It's late 
for this old gal, daughter . . . . why don't you take him home to your 
place and continue there . . . . call me tomorrow? . . . . I'll call you 
two a cab, just be sure you blindfold with your bra again before he 
walks out the door, and you never tell him where I live".

She hopped off him, and he was still hard, despite his condom being full 
of come. She dove on it, pulling it off, licking and sucking him as 
erotically as she could, little spurts of his come squirting on her 
face. God, that was an erotic site. I leaned over to her, and licked the 
come droplets off her face. He made some more unrecognizable noises as I 
did. We kissed. She kissed and sucked his cock, and what the hell, I 
joined her. His cock between our mouths, kissing each other with his 
cock in the middle of a womyn-mouth sandwich, actually felt pleasing to 
me, especially with my Ginny kissing me through and around it. No, God, 
don't tell me now that I'm straight, I don't want to be straight, I love 
womyn too much.

We both kissed each other as he fucked our mouths, he standing up on the 
bed, we kneeling on either side of his cock, playing with each other's 
boobs again, giving him the full show. Dammit, I actually like Rod, 
liked the thought of maybe actually being with a man that way, as much 
or more than any time in my life, he seemed like such a nice and honest 
guy and was a real studpants and I wouldn't have minded being fucked by 
him right then. But, it had been my idea to find a stud for Ginny to get 
her out of her funk about Ray, and I wasn't about to poach on the 
territory I had found for her.

We turned to face him more, sucking more deeper on his cock, trying our 
best to give him a better view and show. He splattered our faces with 
his another come, and hit the bed in a heap. Still looking at us, again 
we licked his come off each other's faces, gently frigging each other as 
we did. More language sounds from an ancient tongue only men apparently 
can understand frogcraoked from his closed mouth as he watched us.

"Time for you kids to go home . . . . go on, get dressed, I'll call you 
a cab and pay the driver myself in advance . . . . Gin', call me 
tomorrow, let me know how things work out?"

"I will, Mom, thanks . . . . and thanks for tonight, it was better than 
my dreams could have hoped for . . . . thanks . . . . " she finished as 
she slipped her hot little number of a dress back on, as Rod staggered 
to find and put his clothes back on, acting like he was coming to from 
surgery more than having had every man's dream of mother-and-daughter 
three-way sex with him.

"I love you, Mom . . . . " she cooed to me as the cab pulled up in my 
driveway, I going out to pay and tip the driver heavy, telling him not 
to tell the bra-blindfolded man where I lived under any circumstances, 
he smiling and saying thanks for the nice tip, as Gin' and I kissed 
through a rolled-down backdoor window and my Baby speed of into the 
night, a happier woman.





~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



"Mom, you were a tart last night, you know that? . . . . " Ginny 
playfully picked at me as we talked on the phone " . . . . you really 
enjoyed giving Rod some head, didn't you, tell the truth . . . . "
I couldn't help but just giggle, not saying a word.
" . . . . Moooaaamm, you wanted his cock didn't you? . . . . tell the 
truth . . . . are you becoming straight on me?"
We both just burst out laughing. "No, Baby . . . . well, yes . . . . if 
he had wanted to fuck me, especially after sharing his cock with my 
lovely Ginny, I would have let him, I admit it . . . . but last night 
was for you, and I didn't want to intrude on your fun, Dear . . . . "
"Thanks, Mom, you're a peach . . . . you know how much I love you?"
"Hopefully half as much as I love you, daughter."

Guess what happened next. After Rod rodding Gin's brains out until the 
next morning non-stop until they both had to quit to get ready for work, 
that was it for her. She proposed to him right then, but he poo-pooed it 
as a joke, that or hormones. But she did move in with him, at his much 
nicer apartment if a further commute away over off Lake Boone Trail, 
that following weekend. I called the landlord and smoothed things out 
with him. No problem, her lease was month-to-month anyway, and he knew 
he could put it off on one of her roommates. Her Dad being home for the 
weekend from a ten-day out-and-back, he and I helped her pack and rented 
a U-Hail short van to move her stuff over. She left her refrigerator and 
a lot of the old and used furniture Richard and I had given her at her 
old house. "No insult meant, Mom, Dad, but Richard's got much nicer stuff".

He did indeed. A local boy, who went to State and graduated in three 
years with a degree in engineering, he had been working as an 
engineer-in-training for the past two years for a local firm and was 
making damn near what I was after fifteen plus years with M&P. Tall, 
dark, handsome, a true gentleman, no crack or crackwhore habits. I can't 
say I didn't envy my daughter a little, as lesbian as I still felt. And, 
I also had my Janice in my life. But for once, my Gin' had gotten lucky.

Taking the U-Haul back over the U-Haul place on Downtown Blvd., Richard 
only half-playfully told me he hadn't been laid in several weeks, and 
with all the new disease cropping up, had quit messing with "pavement 
princesses" for good, and asked me point-blank if I wanted to go to bed 
with him. "But you would go to bed with Rod, in a New York minute, if he 
asked, wouldn't you?", his feelings hurt at the rejection, but what did 
he expect from me? He knew I was a lesbian, after ten years of knowing 
me. I just smiled a guilty-thought-pleasure smile.

Next thing we knew, Ginny's 20th birthday was coming up. We, Richard and 
myself, thought she'd ask for another new car, her old Celica had seen 
its better days, especially with her longer daily commute, but she 
didn't. She asked if we'd pay for a nice, romantic weekend for her and 
Rod for her birthday. We both felt hurt, but our Baby was growing up. 
Next day, I called our corporate travel agent, and had them book a 
weekend getaway for them at the Grove Park Inn in Asheville in the 
mountains, the most romantic spot I knew of personally, having taken and 
been taken there by a couple of old girlfriends in the past.

The following Wednesday night, my Ginny coming over to spend her usual 
one night with me, she told me that over the weekend, she had told Rod 
the whole truth, that we weren't actually mother and daughter by birth 
or marriage, just two close friends, but more than that, I was her Mom 
in every way possible, and more, since we had an on-going relationship 
together, which she told Rod was going to continue. He was cool with 
that. And, even cooler, he never once asked for another threesome with 
us. A true gentleman.

Turn around, turn around, turn around and your Baby's no longer ten, but 
is turning twenty-one. As true age-of-majority big 2-1 approached 
closer, her Dad and I just knew we had to get her another car. Rod had 
offered to buy her a better one, but she had refused on principle. As 
much as she was in love with him, they weren't married, and she wanted 
to maintain her independence. Richard had needed a new car himself, so 
he cut a deal with a dealer, buying one for him and an identical one for 
Gin', two Chevy Corsica four-door models, loaded. The dealer knocked two 
thousand plus off the sticker of each for buying both at once, and 
Richard also haggled him to giving them a three year warranty at no 
cost. What the hell. My third Fiat was wearing out, and I was getting 
more and more settled, being a career woman and a home owner now. The 
dealer also happened to sell Volvos, so I got the price I wanted first 
on a new Volvo station wagon, then turned it over to Richard to finish 
haggling for me. He was happy to do it. My car with the deal knocked 
four thousand plus off my quoted price, and I got an extended three year 
warranty at zero cost, too. I did owe Richard one, but not the way he 
wanted to be paid. We didn't give Ginny her car outright, as we did last 
time. Her Dad chipped in two thousand cash, and I four for a big down 
payment, which left her with monthly payment of less than 
a-hundred-thirty a month. She was grown woman now, not a girl at home. 
The down payment and us co-signing the bank loan would help her 
establish her own credit better, which helped her more than if we had 
just bought and given it to her. She did plunk down another five hundred 
of her own money for the best factory stereo system she could order for it.

I just loved my new Volvo. I just loved my Janice. I was falling in love 
with her, not hard, nice and easy. I took her to Grove Park Inn in my 
new Volvo instead of her old Porsche for a nice romantic Christmas 
holiday. I had spent Thanksgiving with my parents, who were definitely 
getting older and more feeble; I feared for how much longer they'd be 
around. I thought about taking Janice, but she was flying home to be 
with her own over Thanksgiving, too. Christmas in the Blue Ride 
Mountains with our spectacular view from our fourth-floor window, snow 
billowing all around outside, was perfect. We drank hot room-service 
cocoa and stood outside chilly on the balcony in our robes, smooching, 
kissing, only the mountains being able to see us. Still, my Ginny was on 
my mind. I secretly wished she was there with then, the three of us. But 
I knew Janice wouldn't go for it, not even the fantasy of it. We were 
now a couple, a monogamous one, totally, except for my Wednesday night 
sleep-and-sex-overs with Gin', which she never said one word about. We 
gave each other backrubs and facials and eyebrow tweezings and made soft 
but very real love all weekend long, the way only two old tubes of 
lipstick lesbians who've been around more than one cosmetic case or two, 
can.

The next year came and went without me noticing. Ginny was happy with 
Rod, Janice and I were happy with each other. Rod and Gin' now came over 
to eat with me and sometimes her father as a family dinner at my place 
usually once or twice a month, though Ginny insisted as always on doing 
all the cooking. I couldn't help but notice after a year plus of living 
with Gin' and her cooking, his washboard stomach was no longer 
washboard-flat, but had actually a little pooch to it.
"Her cooking will do that to you, Mother Black . . . . " he once told me 
when I mentioned how much weight he had seemingly gained.
"Yes, I know, I know, I've been eating her . . . . cooking . . . . for 
the past twelve years now . . . . " he laughing at my comic pause.
I confess to still thinking about what he'd be like in bed, after coming 
so close that first night with he and Ginny. But I never mentioned it to 
Gin', and from what she told me, he never even jokingly hinted at the 
possibility, not even a little. So, I let sleeping cocks lie.

Janice and I had become so much of a couple, that we finally decided to 
tie the knot. No, not the marriage knot, the living-in-sin knot. Even 
after two years, her place was barely furnished. Over the years at my 
cheap apartment and now my house, I had selectively picked up a whole 
house of very acceptable antiques for every room and almost every piece 
of non-heavy-use furniture. She actually complained about having too 
much space, too many blank walls and areas.
"Okay, you don't have to ask . . . . " I told her as she lay half-dozing 
in my arms after another not incredible but simply edible night of 
lovemaking " . . . . you can move in here, even though you really do 
have the nicer house . . . . "
"I can? . . . . really? . . . . really? . . . . thanks, Carol, you're a 
Dear . . . . and that way, I can rent my house out, and pay the mortgage 
with the rent, and build my equity at no cost to me!!! . . . . " she 
squealed with lawyer-ly greedily delight " . . . . oh . . . . I can pay 
half the mortgage here, if you'd like, Lover . . . . "
"That's not necessary, Sweetie Puss . . . . " I pleasantly shot back " . 
. . . I've got things covered . . . . "
" . . . . well, at least let me pay for the utilities and repairs and 
half the property taxes at the end of the year . . . . "
I grinned like a chesire cat. "Sure, Lover, that'd be nice of you . . . 
. no argument here . . . . ", she scooting back down between my legs for 
more clit-and-tongue exercises.

When, in the fog of my low-spent passion, I hadn't even thought about my 
routine Wednesday nights with Gin'. Shit. Would Janice mind if Ginny 
came over here each week? Would Rod mind if I went over there. The 
thought of getting a hotel room each week was definitely for the birds. 
Rod and Janice both knew everything and totally accepted things for the 
way they were. Some quick phone calls back and forth, and things 
settled. Rod and Ginny's place had an extra guest bedroom they used for 
storage of junk only, that, and Rod's weight bench. Plenty of room for a 
small bed in there, for Ginny and me and the odd overnight guest if they 
ever had someone else who needed to stay with them. I already had two of 
the three extra bedrooms besides Janice's and mine full of suites of 
furniture. Ginny and I would simply take turns, alternating each week 
between them. Problem solved.

The river of time floated us further down its stream. Everything was 
fine with all with that arrangement, and neither Jan nor Rod every 
attempted to join in or interfere with our nights together. But life is 
rarely so kind, for such a long time.

Ginny called me around six one evening, some months later. Rod was gone. 
His stuff was gone. No note, no nothing. Just gone.
"And, I'm pregnant again, Mom . . . . I told him last night, I just 
found out after I talked to you last night before I opened the mail and 
had my doctor's test report in it . . . . I told him we didn't have to 
marry, not anytime soon because of the baby, anyway . . . . we could 
just live and love together without being married as long as he wanted . 
. . . and Mom, he seemed so genuinely happy . . . . we made the craziest 
love last night, he absolutely ravaged me all night long, telling  me 
the whole time how much he loved me, and we'd get married soon . . . . 
and now . . . . and now, this bullshit . . . . oh, Mom, what am I going 
to do? . . . . " she jagged out through the walls of tears " . . . . I 
know one thing, and one thing only, Mom . . . . no abortion this time, 
I'm going to raise this baby, if I have to raise it myself . . . . "
"We'll . . . . we'll raise it ourselves, both of us, I promise!" I told 
her as Janice stuck her head in the bedroom to friendly eavesdrop.
"Promise, Mom?"
"Promise, Baby . . . . . . I'm coming right over, okay?"
"'K . . . . . . thanks Mom . . . . I love you, you know that?"
"Not as much as you mother loves her Baby".

The next day, she filed a missing persons report, and the police found 
him by the following day, relaying the message to her that he didn't 
want to talk to her. She asked where he was, and they said he hadn't 
committed a crime, simply left her, he was an adult and could do that. 
She told them that she was pregnant with his child, and they told her 
all they could suggest was to file for child support after the baby was 
born. Unlucky for him, I had his Social Security number and a whole 
bunch of other info on him, having done his and Gin's taxes for them 
last year, gratis. Nine months later, a perfect little girl was born, 
Carol Mae, named for guess who and her "real" mother who had died when 
she was only five, five years before our fateful encounter that day at 
the second-floor lady's room at Belk's, where we both still liked to 
shop, but never had the nerve to "do it" in the same stall where long 
ago whence we first met, tempting as the thought was.

The wheels of life turn, they do indeed turn. Sometimes eccentricly, 
always synchronicitly. A week after Mae was born and Gin' was just 
coming home that day with her from the hospital, I came home to find 
Janice packing. The woman I had hoped to spend the rest of my life with, 
was leaving me. Shit, shit, shit. Life gives, and life takes away. Life 
gives me a granddaughter, and takes my wife away.
"I'm not leaving you, Carol . . . . " she spake as she folded her 
clothes from our closet and stuff them into an Allied Moving Van Lines 
cardboard moving box " . . . . my company's laying off a bunch of 
people, what with this mini-recession we're in and all, and they gave me 
a choice, either be layed off, or move to corporate HQ in San Bernadino 
. . . . I know you love me, my wife, but you don't want to move to San 
Bernadino with me, do you?"

I thought long and hard and silently as I paced back and forth in our 
bedroom for five minutes or more, as she continued to pack. I was simply 
so head-over-heels in love with my wife, that I knew that even though we 
hadn't talked about, a public commitment ceremony was in the offing 
soon, after I quit going to Temple Baptist and came out to my colleagues 
at M&P first. As much as it would have broken my heart and Gin's too, I 
would have even left Raleigh and Gin' to be with my Janice, and yes, 
lost my seniority partnership track at M&P, I was in love with her that 
much. If she had just asked one day before I could have held my perfect 
little granddaughter in my arms, I would have said, yes, yes, YES 
DAMMIT, I'll pick up stakes and move to California with you. But as much 
as I loved my Ginny, I loved my little granddaughter even more now. The 
bond was in place, and would never be broken by God or man or womyn.

"Yes . . . . yes, dammit, you know I want to . . . . I love you so very, 
very much, dammit it all . . . . "
"I know . . . . " she sighed.
"But you also know I can't now, and you know why . . . . "
"I know . . . . . . " she replied, as silence hit the room hard for a 
while, as I began to help her pack, slipping "Old George", as we called 
my trusty old strap-on into the next box with her toiletries and such, 
both our scents still fresh on it from its last use a couple of nights ago.
"Something to remember me by . . . . " I cooed. She smiled, but was 
still silent as her pads and dental floss and heated curlers and tampons 
and . . . . shit . . . . I started crying . . . . I boo-hooed like a 
fucking baby, worse than Mae could have cried. Janice pulled me close 
and hugged me tight, kissing my forehead like a sister offering support 
and love, not like a wife, not like a long-term committed lover.

"You know I'll always love you, Carol . . . . if this hadn't happened 
like this, I would have proposed to you, you know that, don't you?"
"Only if I hadn't proposed to you first . . . . " I coughed from my 
still-flowing tears.
She smiled, and lightly kissed me on the lips. "I'm leaving tomorrow on 
a two-thirty afternoon flight . . . . the movers will call you sometime 
the next couple of days to arrange to pick my boxes of stuff and my 
furniture up . . . . okay? . . . . " I nodding my head as I stared at 
her bare feet, not wanting to look her in the eye " . . . . and I'll 
leave you a check for three months' utilities and stuff, okay?"

"Don't worry about it, just leave, dammit, just leave . . . . " I 
mumbled through my tears as I pushed her away. I made the couch up like 
a bed with sheets and blankets from the linen closet, and dove under 
them, pulling them over my head. But I couldn't sleep. The sounds of my 
life with my precious Janice being packed away like so many old 
photographs, the sound of packing tape being applied and magic markers 
marking just stepped o my heart and made it as flat as it had ever been.

A couple of hours later, her stuff packed and her furniture tagged for 
the movers, she crawled under the covers on the couch with me, and just 
held me close, her naked body next to mine, her chest, those perfect 
titties of hers pressing against my back, her sweet breath on my neck 
and in my right ear whispering to me how much she still truly loved me, 
and wasn't leaving because she didn't, but because she had to. Next 
morning, I eased out and quietly left before she could awake. The movers 
called to arrange pick up her stuff and take it to their local warehouse 
before shipping it out to her later. She was trying to spare the 
emotional agony of living with her stuff until she found a place to stay 
out there, sweet, sweet Janice. I told them where to find the spare key 
outside. When I got home, it was all gone. Janice was gone, her stuff 
was gone, my life, my future was gone. All she left was a check for six 
hundred bucks, which I promptly tore up into little pieces and threw 
into the trash, and a short note: "Carol, I'll always love you . . . . 
you know that, MY WIFE!!! (emphasis hers) . . . . here's my new office 
number . . . . call me soon . . . . I love you!". I subjected the note 
to the same treatment as I had the check.

Then the wheels of life turned again. Synchronicity. The same 
synchronicity that originally lead Ginny that first time into my arms 
and into my bed when she was just ten and I was twenty-three, that same 
synchronicity rang my life's bell again.

I answered the phone, still mad and hurt, starting to sob loudly again. 
I have always loved being a woman so much, except when the damn 
crying-jag hormones and emotions kick in. Shit. I tried to compose 
myself before saying "hello?". Of course, I was hoping it was Janice, 
calling to tell me it was all a bad mistake, and she'd be home tonight. 
But it wasn't, and she didn't. It was Ginny.

"Mom . . . . Mom, are you okay?"
"No, Hon', I'm not okay . . . . Janice left me . . . . she's gone . . . 
. her company yesterday gave her a choice between being fired or 
immediately relocating to California, and she pack her things last night 
and the movers came and got them this afternoon . . . . Gin' . . . . 
Gin', she's gone . . . . my wife's left me . . . . first, your 
soon-to-be-husband leaves you when he finds out you're pregnant, the 
second man to leave you in a lurch like that . . . . then . . . . then, 
my wife leaves me . . . . at least you have that perfect granddaughter 
of yours now . . . . "
"Named after my Moms . . . . my Mom, remember? . . . . "
I just burst out in uncontrolled tears again for another couple of 
minutes. "Of course, I remember, Silly Melanie Anne (I hadn't called her 
Melanie, her real name, in years, and had never called her by her middle 
name, which she hated, ever) . . . . I remember . . . . that's why I 
couldn't leave and go with my wife . . . . because I love you and Carol 
Mae just too much, just too damn much . . . . "

"Mom, I'm coming over right now . . . . "
"But Baby, you're just home from the hospital . . . . let me come over 
there . . . . "
"No, Mom, me and Carol Mae are coming over there right now . . . . the 
lease was in Rod's name only, and I've already told the landlord I 
couldn't afford the rent, and would be out by the end of the month, that 
he could sue Rod for breach of the lease if he wanted to, if he could 
find him . . . . can't I move in with you, Mom, especially now that 
Janice's gone? . . . . I really need a place to stay, me and Carol Mae 
do . . . . "
" . . . . of course you can, Baby, you know you don't even have to ask . 
. . . but what about your work?"
" . . . . remember, Mom? . . . . I told you . . . . . . I've got three 
weeks vacation time I have to use or lose anyway, so I'm using it as a 
short maternity leave . . . . and I've already got things arranged where 
I can work part-time until I want to come back full-time, it's cool with 
my boss . . . . but Mom, my finances will be tight, you know I won't be 
able to help out much with the bills . . . . "

" . . . . Ginny, you're my daughter for gosh' sakes, stop talking like 
that, you know money's not a problem for me, or us . . . . 'still 
remember how to get here don't ya'? . . . . " I yacked back, my tears 
drying up now.
" . . . . yeah, I think I can still find my way there, if you're still 
living where you did two weeks ago when I came over big as a house and 
you still made such sweet, sweet love to me until I went to sleep, 
before Carol Mae was born the following week . . . . yeah, I can find 
you, Mom, I can always find my Mom, or she me."

I literally dropped to my knees in a prayer of thanks to God. What I had 
been praying for, for such a long, long time, had finally come to pass. 
I told God, that whatever He wanted from me, He could have, my life, my 
soul, anything. I swear to my God right now that when I prayed that 
silently to Him as I kneeled in total reverence and thanks be to Him for 
fulfilling my prayers, I heard Him speak to me. No, not a silent voice 
in my mind, an actual voice in the room, that someone else could have 
heard, had someone else been in the living room with me.

Again, swearing on Him Who Is Most Holy, in a voice that sounded just 
like David Brinkley crossed with B.B. King, and again I swear these are 
the exact words as best I can remember them, He said unto me: "Just keep 
on doin' what ya' been doing, Carol Gyrl . . . . you' been doing a great 
job doing what I sent you there to Earth for, you know that, doncha'? . 
. . . just keep on truckin' down the same road you' been truckin' on for 
so long, you' doing a good job keeping the rig between the lines . . . . 
oh, a couple of quick last things . . . . drop the hypocritical act at 
church and with other people, be who you are, not who you think others 
want you to be just 'cause you want to be liked and admired . . . . and, 
oh, call an electrician and have him check your house wiring, it's not 
in My plan for you and your daughter and yaw gran'child to die in no' 
housefire . . . . keep the faith, Carol!"

That was it. I knew I had totally lost it, what with Janice leaving me 
and all. Fetching the yellow pages from under the phone on my antique 
telephone table, I started looking for listings of "psychiatrists". I 
had to be schizophrenic, hearing voices and all, if it was temporary 
from the maximum dose of stress of the past twenty-four hours. Then 
another wham: "and Carol, DON'T call a psychiatrist, you're fine, you're 
better than fine, it really was and is Me who is talking to you . . . . 
just take good care of that daughter Ginny  and that  grandbaby Mae of 
yours, and do justice where and when justice needs to be done, and 
follow My commandments . . . . that's Ginny and your new grandchild 
pulling up in the driveway now . . . . bye, and keep in touch by prayin'!"

Ginny was holding Mae in her arms, diaper bag and supplies at her feet, 
as I opened the front door, at God's command. She was white as a sheet, 
probably whiter than I looked like.
"Mom, you won't believe what I just heard on the radio . . . . "
"Try me, Gin', just try me . . . . " I whispered in her ear as I hugged 
them both.

" . . . . I was listening to 'QDR, when from nowhere, this interference 
takes over the radio, and it sounds like . . . . it sounded like . . . . 
one side of a conversation, where God was talking to you, because He 
mentioned you, me, and Mae, all by name . . . . Mom, was God here in 
this house, talking to you?"
"Well, His voice was here if He wasn't, I heard but didn't see Him . . . 
. yeah, it was God alright . . . . no other possible explanation, your 
father's not smart enough to pull something like this off, I don't think 
. . . . "

Ginny laughed aloud, then caught herself, with a "Mom, I need a drink . 
. . . "
"Yeah, I need one, too . . . . come in, darn you, get my grandbaby, as 
our Lord calls her, out of this night air before she catches cold . . . 
. vodka okay?"
"Yeah, a double, neat."

I knew that night, as Gin' and I lay in each other's arms and just held 
each other, Mae in her playpen used as a makeshift crib, that things 
would be fine from then on, that they would unfold as they should, as He 
intended them to. I felt completely absolved for my long-held guilt of 
seducing Ginny when she was only ten. I didn't feel like a closet 
pedophile any longer. I hadn't ever had a sexual thought or desire about 
any other womyn under 18, before or since, anyway. I knew that Richard 
wouldn't have a problem with it, with Ginny and me now. She was grown 
and long on her own and no longer a child. And God would have a talk 
with Richard, I was sure, if he did have a problem with it. And I knew 
just what to do about Rod. Sue the immature little SOB for child 
support, even though we didn't need the money, just for the principle of 
it. He could support his daughter, my grandchild, even if he was too 
chickenshit to want to be a father in her life. And I called a 24-hour 
emergency electrical service number I found in the yellow pages as my 
Ginny and Mae snoozed, making an appointment for them to meet me at home 
at lunch time the next day, just to check things out. Within fifteen 
minutes, they found what God was trying to warn me about. My older home 
was built when Brentwood was outside the Raleigh city limits. The wiring 
was made from aluminum, and the guys who put it in had used the wrong 
kind of connectors for another kind of wire.

"You're lucky, lady, to have call us when you did . . . . this house was 
wired before Wake County started inspecting houses outside the city 
limits . . . . you could have had a major house fire at any time, any 
day as long as you've lived here . . . . we need to start replacing it, 
now, today . . . . I'll give you an estimate in a couple of hours . . . . "

"Just give me a fair price, and don't screw me on the labor, but start 
on it, now, today!" I screeched unintentionally at him.
"Okay, Mrs. Black, no problem, I'll pull men off other jobs this 
afternoon, and we'll have it done in three days or less . . . . "
"Just do it . . . . my daughter and my new grandbaby just moved in to be 
with me last night . . . . it's gotta be done now to protect them . . . . "
"Yes, Mrs. Black, I understand".
My homeowner's insurance even ended paying for it all. Nice God!





~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



That night Ginny just dozed in my arms she was really my baby, while Mae 
snoozed in her playpen. At four-thirty a.m., Mae started fussing. She 
had a dirty diaper, and she was hungry. Gin' nursed her as I lay beside 
them both. My perfect lover, my perfect wife, and my grandchild, now 
finally a part of my life, forever. As Mae suckled, I did too. Ginny 
pulled me closer to her swollen breast, urging me softly to give her 
some relief. I drank her breastmilk like it was ambrosia. I filled my 
soul with the essence of my daughter. A virtual gallery of epiphanies 
filled my mind. A thousand things to do tomorrow, and in the near 
future. But just one thing to do now.

Ginny smiled as she half-dozed. Her mother - her wife on one breast, her 
infant daughter on the other. If only Caravaggio could have painted our 
family portrait right then.

Back in the hospital last week, visiting Ginny the day after Mae was 
born, I wandered in as a nurse was getting ready to change her pad. 
Gin's locheal fluid was dark, almost black, deeply reddish on her pad as 
it lay between her legs on the bed. I told the nurse that I was her 
mother, and would do that for her. The nurse said "sure, no problem" 
like that request happened all the time, and left us alone in the room. 
Gin' was still very groggy, but raised her eyes open enough to say "hi" 
and kiss me fully on the lips. Her hips spread wide just a second ago 
for a pad change, my left hand found her clit and began rubbing. My 
fingers eased their way down, but her lips were still way too sore from 
being abrased by Mae's birth just hours earlier. Globs and flows of 
locheal afterbirth stained the Chux pad underneath her butt. Our kiss 
became deeper and more passionate as my clitrub of her continued. The 
same nurse from earlier popped her head back in, thinking I had probably 
had enough to do the pad change, and saw us in a lover's elicit embrace, 
backing out the room, staring as long as she could. Neither of us cared 
that we had been seen. I brought her to a little come, then did my duty, 
changing her hospital pad which was as thick as squashed roll of paper 
towels, hooking it to the old-style sanitary belt.

Now my daughter was in my arms, letting me nurse her. Needing to go to 
the bathroom, she creaked out of bed, and gave me my precious Mae. Mae 
looked at me and smiled. I melted. I eased Mae tighter in my arms, and 
she reached for my own naked breast. I didn't deny her. She suckled for 
a moment, then realizing no milk was coming forth, started fussing as 
Ginny came back. I gave Mae back to her, and turned down and around on 
the bed.

Gin's birthcunt was musty, earthy, womanly as I unhooked and slid the 
old-style Kotex aside. I knew my Baby was sore, and knew just how to 
make it feel all better. Her locheal fluid, still flowing a week after 
giving birth to Mae, was lighter in color than it had been in the 
hospital, and now flowed a pinkish-red. Her episiotomy scar beckoned. I 
licked and nursed on it, trying to heal it with my tongue.

Ginny moaned and groaned, partly because it was still so sore, her 
stitches not coming out for another couple of weeks, but mainly from the 
pleasure of my soft, moist tongue on it. Her butt bucked into my face as 
Mae nursed on the other breast I had just been on. My thumb massaged her 
clit as my ministrations to her pudendal birthcut continued.

She came, and came again, muttering utterances about how much she loved 
me, how much she wanted to marry me and be my wife.

Gulp. Yes, I audibly gulped. I still couldn't believe my ears. She said 
it again.
"Mom, let's get married".

I knew in my heart it was my Sweety's out-of-whack hormones talking, not 
her. I knew my lovely daughter was straight. Okay, maybe not straight, 
obviously bi, but still more man-oriented than I. Ten years ago, five 
years ago, even just a year ago, I would have sold my soul to hear the 
words. Now said aloud to me, for some reason, they simply didn't have 
the impact I thought that they would have had.

We stayed up talking about that, about us getting married, for the rest 
of what remained of the night. In the end, damn my basic decency I like 
to think I have at times, I got her to agree with me that our 
relationship and her bi-feelings aside, she was probably a tad more 
man-oriented than not, as I was a substantially more womyn-oriented than 
not. After all these years, passion and lust and comfort level aside, we 
simply knew each other too well, and maybe sadly a tad, both she and I 
had become too much of adults to let unchecked passions rule our lives. 
Wisdom is not knowledge, but loss of innocence.

Eight a.m. rolled around, and a ton of things to do re-listed themselves 
in my mind.

Called HealthSource and ger them to call and tell the nurse's aide I had 
pre-arranged to baby-sit during the day and help Ginny for the next 
month come to my address instead of Gin's and Ray's old apartment.

Called Mike, my boss at work and the Senior Partner, and tell him that I 
wouldn't be in until the following Thursday week, and to please set up a 
Board Meeting with and for all the firm's partners, it being my right as 
a company veep to do so, Mike wondering silently but not asking what I 
wanted the Board meeting called for, with a" . . . . . . uh . . . . . . 
sure, Carol . . . . see you next Thursday . . . . ".

Called West Brothers Moving and have them come over and get the key get 
them to go get Ginny's stuff out of her old apartment and bring it all 
to our place by no later than that afternoon. Rod had left some half-way 
decent furniture, including a new crib for Mae without being asked, 
despite having left nine months prior. Never minding to spend money on 
my Baby, there was no point buying something in duplicate that she/I/we 
already owned. My home being pretty full already, what we didn't need, 
West Brothers could store for Ginny until and if she ever needed it 
back. She certainly needed her clothes and such.

Called the lying ess-oh-bee of Bill Helms ess-queer and let him have it 
with both barrels.
"Bill . . . . it's Carol Black . . . . you're a lying sack-of-shit, and 
I really should sue you for malphaesance!"
"Carol . . . . Carol . . . . calm down . . . . slow down . . . . what on 
earth are you talking about?"
"A while back, I talked with you about adopting Ginny, and you said that 
without her father's permission, it could never happen . . . . you were 
and a lying, low-down-snake of a mongrel SOB, you bastard, and I should 
sue you for lying to me!"

"Carol . . . . for one thing, you never formally retained me, you just 
asked for my offhand advice as a friend, and I gave you the advice I 
thought best, as a friend . . . . "
"As a lying cheaprug lawyer, you mean, Bill . . . . God told me last 
night that since Ginny was eighteen at the time, I could have petitioned 
the court to adopt her, and her father couldn't have done anything about 
it . . . . "
"God told you? . . . . never mind . . . . look, Carol . . . . I told you 
that because you're a sick, sick, sick person . . . . everyone at Temple 
Baptist knew you were lying about Ginny, they all knew you were a child 
molester and were molesting that little girl . . . . why do you think 
you were never allowed to be part of the Women's Auxiliary and the 
Mission Board and other church women's groups? . . . . because, Carol, 
you're a sick person, and out of Christian love, no one said anything to 
you . . . . now is there anything else I can do for you today?"

I was beyond stunned. I had always maintained such a decorum in church, 
especially with Ginny all these years. Perverts. Even though it was 
true, they were the bigger perverts, not me, and not my Gin'.
"No, Bill, thank you for your time . . . . I won't bother you again". 
Bill slammed the phone down on my ear.

I called the parsonage, and Pastor Kenan answered. I asked him point 
blank if he thought that Ginny and I had an improper relationship 
together, that I was a child molester and Ginny was my "victim". He 
replied with one word, and no other comment: "yes". I thank him for 
fifteen years of Christian fellowship, and told him as of that instant, 
I was resigning from the membership rolls, and would send him a 
follow-up written letter of resignation. He told me that a written 
letter wasn't necessary, and slammed the phone down on my ear, my ear 
popping again for the second time in five minutes.

Called old Dr. Brown, and asked Miriam, his main nurse, if he could 
possibly work Ginny and myself in to be his last appointment for the day.
"Carol, is there anything major wrong, do you have an emergency?"
"Nope, Miriam, I just want him to check Ginny's episiotomy stitches, 
they seemed to be a little poochy, and I also want to get pumped full of 
hormones so I can breast-feed my granddaughter." After referring who 
knows how many of Raleigh's lesbian community to Doc Brown, who was the 
most womyn-friendly male gyno I had ever been to, and after being his 
patient for almost twenty years, I was sure he and/or Miriam would help 
and work us in.
"See you after our last 5:30 one, then".

Ginny waking up from light slumber, my yacking and screaming at Bill 
have roused her, I told her I wanted to be able to nurse our Mae. 
Lazily, yawning, she rose to kiss me, with a "sure, Mom, that'd be 
great, that'd take some of the load off me, sure, whatever you want".

Called an ad at random in the yellow pages that struck me under family 
attorneys, for "Frink, Foy, Yevghenney, & Yount". Large ad, but it must 
have been a small firm. Got to speak directly with Mr. Foy, told him 
that I had been unofficial step-mom to Ginny since she was ten, she was 
now twenty-three and had just had a child that I wanted to make my 
official granddaughter, and wanted to adopt Ginny to make everything 
official down the line. He asked what Ginny thought. I told him to ask 
her, handing the phone to her.
"What you do you call Carol, Ms. Moore?"
"I've called her 'Mom' since I've known her, Sir, since I was ten . . . 
. why?"
"That good enough for me . . . . please let me speak back with your Mom, 
thank you."
He promised to expedite the matter ASAP, if I would fax him a copy of a 
check for a retainer for $5,000, and mail the check in today's mail.

Maybe we wouldn't marry as wife-and-wife, but soon, maybe in two or 
three months or less, we would be mother-and-daughter, officially, 
legally. Ginny kissed me so deeply as we whispered to lovenothings each 
other, trying not to wake Mae. She begged for a handfuck. No way. 
Placental displacement and lack of healing just a week old and all. 
Scooting down, I sucked her clit like a vacuum, like it was a miniature 
cock.

The following Wednesday, the phone range kind of late, around 11:20 p.m. 
It was Richard.
"How's my daughter and new grandchild doing?"
"Just fine, Richard . . . . when did you get back?"
"Just walked in the door . . . . twenty-one straight days on the road . 
. . . I'm dead . . . . and in four days, I'm back at it . . . . I'm 
getting to old for this, Carol, driving bigrigs is a young man's sport"
I laughed a friendly laugh of recognition. "Why don't you come on over? 
. . . . I know Ginny's dying to see you, and I know you're dying to see 
Mae . . . . c'mon over, it's fine . . . . "
"No . . . . I can't . . . . it's too late . . . . "
"No, it's not, Richard . . . . we're family now, anyway . . . . let me 
tell you now . . . . Ginny and I are going to petition the court for a 
formal adoption hearing, so I can finally adopt her after all these 
years, and Mae will be my grandchild".

Total, dead silence for a long moment.
"Richard, you there, trucker, come in, 10-4, good buddy?"
"Yah, I'm here . . . . I guess there's nothing I can do about, she's 
over twenty-one now . . . . "
"I found out the other night there wasn't anything you could have done 
about it when she was eighteen, I had received some bad advice . . . . 
look, she's taking some days off, three weeks or so . . . . "
"Yeah, I know . . . . "
" . . . . my point is, why don't you pack some clothes and come on over 
and stay here with us until you have to go back on the road? . . . . the 
house is plenty big, I've got two extra bedrooms, you could have your 
pick, and I know Gin' would love to have you spend your days off with 
her, she misses you terribly when you're gone, always has . . . . "
"No, I couldn't"
"Richard Moore . . . . you can't tell me that you don't want to . . . . 
. . look I'm going back to work tomorrow . . . . you and Ginny and Mae 
will have the house alone all to yourselves tomorrow and Friday . . . . 
c'mon, don't disappoint her, please".
"Okay . . . . okay . . . . "

Things can get a little rough when you hear a voice you're sure but 
still maybe not quite one-hundred percent sure it's God telling you to 
do something. God had told me to do justice. Period. So justice it was.

Mike, the Senior Partner at my firm, was in trouble. I was probably in 
more trouble than he was, but he was definitely in trouble. This would 
be the test. Had I heard God, or had an auditory hallucination? Mike had 
been the one to interview me originally all those years back, and had 
been my mentor too during my career track. If it hadn't been for him, I 
definitely would not have made it as far as I had in the firm. But he 
had extracted a terrible, terrible price from me, and now God was 
telling me it was time for justice. Being young and green and 
impressionable and easily controlled when I was first hired, Mike had me 
do a bunch of stuff for him, such as cover his clients and his own 
tracks on some very illegal tax shelter maneuvers, had me cover his 
tracks when he had embezzled from some clients, and most importantly, 
had me cover his tracks when he had stolen from his own partners, his 
own firm. He had intimidated me into silence. Being scared, though, I 
was at least smart enough to keep records and make copies of all I 
could. If he hadn't been so damn lazy and had simply done the paperwork 
himself, probably no one would have ever found out. But I knew, and in 
twenty minutes, the world would know. If I got fired as an implied but 
unprovable co-conspirator, so be it. God demanded justice be done.

The Board had anticipated what I wanted, and had anticipated wrong. At 
my place at the conference table was a new personal services contract, 
raising me to $65,000 base and putting me tracked in writing for a 
partnership in five years. I laid before them all copies of my 
allegations of theft and corruption from and by Mike, and called a 
friend with the IRS Regional Office in Greensboro, telling him on the 
speakerphone as everyone listened my allegations of specific, illegal, 
jail-time-creating tax fraud, even though I knew that the statute of 
limitations had run out on most of them. It hadn't run out on him 
stealing from the other partners and the firm, but I didn't go into that 
with Joe on the phone, I just let the rest of the twenty or so pages 
speak for themselves. I was dismissed. No, not from the firm, just the 
meeting. The next day, Mike was fired, and I was offered, finally, a 
full partnership in the firm, with the now-$70,000 buy-in waived if I 
stayed with the firm for the life of my seven year personal services 
contract, and with limited partnership profit participation for the 
first two. I signed on the dotted line. Even though I had been tracked 
for that moment to happen eventually for some time, it wasn't supposed 
to happen for a few more years yet. Fear, fear of the unknown, fear of 
what someone might have on someone else, even if there is nothing such, 
can be an interesting motivator.

Richard and Ginny really enjoyed his four days with us at our, Ginny's 
and mine, home. With all of us there under the same roof, it was like we 
were a real family. With Ginny soon to be my legal daughter and Mae my 
legal granddaughter, we might as well have been.

Saturday night, Ginny, slowly recovering still, fixed a massive meal of 
veal, two souffles, oyster stew, and carrot cake. We polished off three 
bottles of a decent chardony. Conversation flowed. Good vibes flowed. 
Happiness flowed. And when Ginny nursed Mae in front on her father's 
eyes for him to see for the first time, his tears flowed from joy. Daily 
hormone pills which kept me feeling half-sick to my stomach most of the 
time being a small price to pay for a lifetime of bonding, I also nursed 
Mae in front of him. Richard, being more of an enigma than his simple 
exterior would indicate, wasn't shocked or aroused by the site of my 
naked breasts flopping from my blouse and nursing bra while feeding his, 
our granddaughter. He kissed Gin' lightly on the forehead and then, to 
my surprise, myself as well as I finished my feeding of her.
"G'night, Carol . . . . I'm glad you're going to become Gin's Mom and 
Mae's granny . . . . no more hardfeelings, okay? . . . . no more bad 
words . . . . you're a special person, and I'm glad you're part of our 
lives . . . . "
You could have knocked me over with the proverbial feather.

Ginny and I folded clothes from having done Richard's laundry after he 
went to bed. Three weeks on the road means three weeks of laundry that 
he was too lazy generally to wash, always getting Gin' to do it for him. 
She didn't mind, because she knew she could be assured of seeing him 
when he got back into town that way. We monitored Mae on our baby 
monitor as she slept in our bedroom. Gin commented on not having found 
two socks, of their being two orphans.
"I think I remember seeing them stuffed in a pair of his shoes, Dear . . 
. . I'm sure he's asleep by now . . . . I'll go sneak in to his room and 
fetch them, 'be right back . . . . "
"Thanks, Mom".

Silently opening the door then closing it behind me enough to where the 
hall light wouldn't bother him, Richard was under the covers, making 
some sort of slow motion movement underneath them as he lay with his 
back to me. I thought about leaving, but his breathing, his timing, told 
me was doing something. As he slowly turned over, I could hear him 
mumble softly to himself, he not realizing yet I was in the room, "ohhh 
. . . . oh, Carol . . . . oh, Carol . . . . OH, Carol!"

It took him a moment in the dimness of the room to see me, as he 
continued his masturbation. Then he got silent, and pulled the sheet 
down, showing me his hard cock. He motioned to me to join him. I did. 
But I wasn't about to let him have my hetero virginity.
"This is for being the best father my Ginny could ever have . . . . and 
for being such a good friend to me over the years . . . . enjoy this, 
Richard . . . . and never speak of it to anyone, especially Ginny, ever, 
or you'll lose it, as in butcherknife time, okay?"

His cock wasn't as big as Rod's that night that she and I played with 
her ex-boyfriend, but it was tastier. It simply felt great in my mouth. 
His hand rested on atop my head, trying to pace my up-and-down movements 
on his shaft. He reached for my breasts, and played with them through my 
thin blouse. My blouse opened up and I stopped long enough to open my 
bra for him to be able to massage my milk-engorged tits as I sucked him off.

Truth be known, I really wanted to fuck him, right then and there. But 
his daughter was my lover and wife and daughter, and that can of worms 
simply wasn't worth buying and eating raw. I tongued his cock like it 
was a giant clit, nibbling on the very end, licking around the base, 
licking up under the circumcised edge of its head, pushing my tongue in 
his urethra. Grabbing it firmer, I pumped harder and faster away at it, 
trying to make him come. Ginny was just two rooms away, and I didn't 
want her to come looking for me, and find us like this. Richard filled 
my mouth with his come. I tried to pull away, but his hand rested too 
firmly on my head. So, I swallowed. Maybe it was a symbol of male 
oppression of womyn everywhere, but I could tell it was important to 
him, so I swallowed. He lay there in the darkness, drained. Two minutes 
later, snoring.

"Did Dad enjoy the blowjob you gave him, Mom?" Ginny asked as I made my 
way back to the laundryroom. Damn. Looking down, a glob of obviously 
still-wet semen spotted on my blouse.
"Yes, he did, Hon', and not you or I or he will ever speak of it again, 
okay?"
"Sure, fine, whatever."

Ginny decided not to go back to work, at least not at her old job. She 
wanted to spend her days being a stay-at-home Mom, and with my income 
now, it wasn't a problem. I quit taking the hormones that were making me 
a voluntary milkcow after three months or so, because it was such a pain 
having my breasts leak all the time at work. Plus, my periods were 
starting to gush like a drain at a slaughterhouse, yeeccckk! The blood I 
didn't mind, the clots and the changing of tampons ten or twenty times a 
day, I did. At least my Mae and I had three months of solid bonding 
together.

Mr. Foy called me at work sometime afterwards, and said he finally had a 
court date for us, for the adoption. Richard, being more of a surprise 
than ever, showed up, despite being told he didn't have to be there, the 
implication of course being that Gin' and I didn't want him there. 
During the presentation by Mr. Foy, he broke protocol and asked the 
family court judge from the public seating area if he could speak. Anger 
boiling up inside me, I vowed to drag him behind one of his bigrigs if 
he outed us or otherwise tried to screw things up. The judge asked him 
who he was, and he replied that he was Ginny's father. The judge allowed 
him to speak under oath. Richard went into this spiel about how Ginny 
and I had found each other when she was 10 and I was 24, and about how I 
had "adopted" her for all practical intents and purposes from that day 
on. He spoke of my always being there for her, and for giving her such a 
strong sense of morals and values, and a stong sense of self-worth and 
independence. I could have kissed him. Hell, I could have fucked him.

"If it hadn't been for this special woman, Carol Black, your Honor, 
considering how little I've been able to be at home for her since her 
mother died when she was little, my little girl would not have become 
the strong, independent, law-abiding woman she had become . . . . I owe 
her, Miss Carol Black, more thanks and gratitude than this humble, 
uneducated man can say."
He may have been humble, and he might have been uneducated, but he was a 
man. One of the few real men that I've crossed pathes with in my life.

The judge granted our petition, and leaving the courtroom, I told 
Richard that anything, anything he wanted, if I could return the favor, 
I would, no questions asked. He grinned like a Cheshire cat.

Months passed as Ginny and I settled into a peaceful, domestic bliss. 
Our sex life, especially with a one then a two-year-old, declined as 
life would dictate, the needs of your child being more important than 
the needs of your relationship. Her Dad spent as much time as he could 
with his granddaughter, and during those times Gin' and I would escape 
to a local hotel if during the week or to the mountains or beach if over 
a weekend. Those times alone helped keep our marriage together. Yes, 
marriage. We didn't, I didn't deny the language, any longer. Even though 
I was still sure that Ginny would find a man to marry eventually, we 
simply were too married not to be married. All my old lesbian gyrls from 
the bar scenes past were part of the past. We didn't go to bars any 
longer, we didn't do much of anything socially.

Rut. Her guitar gathering dust in the closet and not having been played 
in years, with Mae being toilet-trained now, I encouraged her to pick it 
back up, and try to get back playing in a band, like she did years back 
with the Band Of Oz. Truth is, we needed some time along from each 
other, some outside interests besides each other and Mae.

Within a few weeks, she had her repertoire back, and the BOZ being on 
"hiatus" from the local music scene, got Red to line an audition up for 
her with "The Embers", the locally most popular beach music band, and 
got the gig.

The time alone, usually one night during the week and most times both 
Friday and Saturday nights, allowed me more time to play grandma with 
Mae and to re-establish my sense of self away from Ginny. That first 
night she called and said she had met a nice guy and was going to spend 
the night with him, it crushed me as much as the night she lost her 
hetero virginity, but again, I tried to be brave. Not like it was 
unexpected. And just like that first time, when she got home, the sex 
was beyond hot. Role-playing I think, doing to me what this guy earlier 
in the evening had done to her, she rode both my pussy and my ass with 
our strap-on, roughly groping and pawing my breasts while she pounded 
away at me fucking me with a passion unshown in many, many months. She 
refused to give me any head, playing or not I wasn't sure, and made me 
eat out her cunt for an hour solid with barely a break for air. Still, 
it was good to have my passionkitten back. Her cunt tasted of latex and 
lubricant. If she was going to be with men again, time to go back on the 
pill. I was her mother, now legally as well as every other sense of the 
word, after all.

The next night, she was gone all night, not showing up until the 
following morning as I was getting ready for work. I didn't scold, but 
did mention that if she was seeing a guy again, to call Dr. Brown and 
get a new prescription for her pills. She tried to tongue-wrestle me as 
I dressed for work. My hurt feelings were plain. She groped my cunt, 
pushing her hand past my skirt, her fingers penetrating me, a grin of 
re-establishment washing over my face.
"I LOVE you, Mom . . . . "
"I love you, too, Baby . . . . . . gotta go to work . . . . bye".

The morning was boring. My mornings as a partner in the firm usually, 
unless it's one of those days of sheer panic and terror.
"Carol, line three . . . . " my secretary buzzed me " . . . . a Janice 
Faulkner holding for you, on long distance."





~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~




"GYRLFRIEND!!!. . . " I literally shouted into the phone ". . . where 
you 'been?. . . howyabeendoing?. . . ghezzz, Janice, it's so good to 
hear your voice. . . I've. . . I've missed you. . . "
"I've missed you, too, Carol, my ex-wife. . . God, how I've missed you. 
. . how's life treating you?. . . how's that now-adopted daughter and 
that granddaughter of yours doing?. . . "
Momentary paused while I collected my thoughts ". . . .where. . . 
where'd you hear that from?. . . ."

". . . that's not important. . . congratulations on becoming a Mom and 
Grandma all in the same year, hahahahehehe. . . "
". . . how you doin' out in Los Angeles?, gyyyrrrlll?"
". . . San Bernadino. . . actually, they sent to me to Guam for six 
months. . . try finding a lesbian there. . . there's one behind every 
magnolia tree, and there ain't a magnolia tree in five thousand miles. . 
. God, I've missed you. . . wife. . . "
". . . Janice Faulkner, if I didn't know better, I would think you're 
trying to seduce me. . . "
". . . .maybe. . . "

"Maybe, what?"
"I'm trying to seduce you. . . "
Gulp. Hard gulp. "Well, get on a plane and come back home and seduce me, 
then, you tease. . . "
". . . OK. . . "
". . . OK, what?. . . "

"Carol, I'm coming into town for a three day conference at Duke. . . 
I'll be speaking on a panel on international law. . . I really, really 
want to see you. . . is that, will that be a problem?"

"Uh-uh. . . when 'you comin' in?"
"I'll be arriving on the red-eye at 9 a.m. your time, and go straight to 
the conference. . . I've got hotel reservations, but. . . you' still at 
the same place I left you?"

Damn that gyrl. She always did have a way of saying the exact right 
thing the wrong way at the right time. Yep, I was at the exact same 
place in the exact same house where she left me all those years ago, 
divorcing me without benefit of a court crux, a wailing and gnashing of 
teeth at her for hurting me.
"Uh-hu. . . 'still living in the house you found for me, along with Mae 
and Ginny. . . "
"Are you and Ginny an item now, are you exclusive to each other?"

Another hard but not long thought. Ginny was finding her hetero side 
once again. I hadn't dated anyone except Ginny, not counting giving 
Richard that quickie blowjob when Gin' first moved in with me.
"No. . . Gin and I are a couple, we're living together as wife-and-wife, 
but we're not monogamous. . . "
"Can I come over around seven or eightish tomorrow then?"
"Absolutely. . . but you'll have to eat my cooking, not Gin's, she's 
playing a gig tomorrow night with the band she's with, and Granma is 
babysitting once again. . . "
"I'll bring the food, I remember your cooking, hehehe. . . and I'll see 
you tomorrow night, Grand-Ma, hahahaha".

Janice showed up at my door, what used to be our frontdoor, with two 
pizzas and two six-packs of Lowenbrau in hand. I hadn't drunk a beer in 
months, years. Jesus, I was becoming an old fuddyduddy. We ate, then I 
fed Mae, and put her to bed. At least Mae was old enough to sleep 
through the night, finally.

Gin' wasn't expected back for another three or four hours. Conversation 
over our pizzas and beers was minimal, but friendly. We ate each other 
up with our eyes more than eating the pizzas with our mouths. All the 
old emotions for both of us came rolling back. Getting up to take the 
cardboard boxes out to the garbage, Janice literally pinned me up 
against the refrigerator, forcing her tongue in my mouth and her hand 
down the front of my slacks and up into my cunt.

A stream of clothes were scattered from the kitchen to our bedroom like 
so much linenpiss. My mouth found a tampon string at my usual 
hairy-hole-dining place, and I pulled it out with my teeth, flinging it 
across the room. God, how I had missed her. Scooting up, we just kissed 
for what seemed like hours as our hands explored places once so familiar 
and now so foreign. Her tongue licked my face clean of her essences, in 
a ritual in ages past so routinely boring almost and now so supremely 
strange and erotic. Hooking the dildo harness on me, my lovely ex-wife 
astrode me and took my faux cock so deeply inside her, I playing with 
her breasts and pulling on her nipples as she rocked back and forth atop 
me. Rolling me over, she pounded me as I kneeled on all fours, my face 
buried in a pillow, crying a soft tear of reunion.
"Hi, Mom. . . Hi, Aunt Janice. . . looks like you two are having fun!. . 
. " my daughter who has better manners than that said matter-of-factly 
as she entered our bedroom, having just gotten home from her gig ". . . 
my date with Georgie was a bust, he was too drunk to get it up. . . can 
I join in, or is this a private party?"

She climbed on the bed with us, clothed. We three kissed a mutual, long 
triad kiss.
"God, I've wanted you, soooo long. . . " Janice whispered to her during 
our threekiss ". . . I know you have, Aunt Janice. . . you can have me 
now. . . .Mom doesn't mind, do you Mom?"
"I love you both so much. . . no, my wife. . . no, my ex-wife. . . I 
don't mind. . . let's just relax and have some fun".

Jan striped Gin' down like she hadn't had sex in ten frigging years. 
Yes, maybe, just maybe, I was tad jealous at their intensity, their 
crescending passion that was washing over not just them but myself as 
well, but these were the two women I loved most in the world. Then, from 
nowhere "Mom, could Aunt Janice and I have some time alone?". My heart 
was crushed. Smashed flatter than frog run over by Richard driving a 
bigrig on some lonely Alabama backroad.
"Sure, Baby. . . ." I coughed out, trying to hold back the tears, tears 
which shouldn't have been there but were despite myself ". . . just 
don't make a lot of noise. . . Mae's just asleep, and the baby monitor 
in her room is on. . . I. . . I have to go the grocery store, anyway. . 
. .be back in 'jiff."

I just drove around for an hour or an hour and half or so. Krispy Kreme 
didn't have the "Hot Donuts" sign on, not on the night I really needed 
some whitesoulfood. The bums at Moore Square seemed to be singing, 
seemed to be happier than I was. I picked up a couple of six packs of 
Michelob and some frozen pizzas and odds and ends at Food Lion, and went 
home. Home. What a laugh.

When I got back in, Jan and Gin' weren't in the bedroom. They weren't in 
the living room. They were dressed, sitting at kitchen table, sharing 
some of the Lowenbraus.
"Mom. . . thanks for giving us some privacy. . . I simply had to talk 
with Aunt Janice in private, ask her some things about you and her, ask 
her some things about you and me, ask her some things about some things. 
. . "
"And what did you ask her, and what did she tell you, Daughter?" I 
husked a little coarsely.
"That's not important now. . . this is what is important to me, Mom".

With that, she got up from her side of the kitchen table, walked over 
where I was sitting opposite her, kissed me firmly as she groped me 
through my blouse, and dropped to one knee.
"Mom. . . Carol Black. . . woman I've loved. . . woman that I've been 
hopelessly in love with since I was ten years old. . . woman who I loved 
enough to become her daughter, for all of eternity. . . will you indeed 
spend the rest of eternity with me?. . . Mom, will you become my wife?" 
she proposed on bended knee. I know my face had to have been white as a 
sheet. No way on my God's green earth I had expected this. Janice was 
nodding her head up-and-down, silently signaling "yes, dammit, say YES!!!".

"Yes, eternal love of my life, my daughter, my child, my lover, my wife. 
. . yes. . . YES, I'll marry you!. . . "
She and I both rose together, standing. Our bodies intertwined in the 
most intimate embrace of our lives. Our kiss was the deepest and most 
passionate of our lives together. Jan joined with us. We didn't mind.

". . . but only under one condition, two ground rules of understanding. 
. . ." she began to look sad, her facial expression changing ". . . we 
need to acknowledge that we'll always be emotionally monogamous to each 
other, but not physically. . . Ginny, neither you nor I will ever be 
happy being totally physically faithful to each other, so we're not 
going to have any pretense about that, okay. . . "
"Okay, Mom. . . sure, no problem. . . " her face lighting and lightening 
up some.
". . . and, that said, we'll never tell each other a single lie about 
who else we do or don't sleep with, and we'll try to include our other 
partners as much as we can in our marriage, understanding that time away 
from each other with someone else is NOT cheating, as long as we're 
honest. . . agreed?"
"Oh, Mom, you're just too special!. . . I love you, Mom!"
"Only because I let my Baby eat her cock and have it, too" I laughed back.

The three of us went back to bed. Gin' joined me between Jan's legs. As 
I sucked and licked on Jan's left-side cuntal lip, Gin' did her right 
one. As I licked Jan's anal pucker, Gin' concentrated on her clit. Then 
a daisy-chain, then reversing the order of the chain. And endless 
luminiere of shadows and lights and touches and caresses and kisses and 
frigs between lovers old and lovers new.  Then morning.

The next evening, Jan came back for one last night, she leaving on a 
late afternoon flight the next day after she finished her conference up.
"You going to be my bridesmaid when Ginny and I get married?" I asked as 
we ate some of Gin's gourmet lasagna as we three sat around the dinner 
table.
"Sure. . . will I wear a gown or a tux?"
"What about nothing at all?. . . what about a 'skyclad' wedding?. . . 
no, seriously, Mom?" I ignoring my silly little wife and gyrl out of 
playfulness ". . . and, who's going to give me away?. . . "
"Well, are you the bridge, or the groom?" I replied back, snickering.
"Well, Mom, you're the groom, you've always been the groom in our 
relationship. . . "
"Well, then I suppose your father will give you away, as fathers are 
supposed to do. . . "
She thought long and hard for a moment. "You're right. . . I guess he 
probably should".

None of Jan's lovers in San B. had been much into the heavier BDSM stuff 
like she and I had been, so at her request, we three played with power 
exchange that last night together. Lacking having brought her toys with 
her, we improvised. Letting Gin' take the lead at her request, Gin' 
clothespinned her nipples, breasts, and pussy, then mousetrapped those 
same swelling nipples, then I have her some lessons in basic rope and 
knotwork, tying my Janice up in most every position I remember. I had 
Gin' rub Texas Pete hotsauce on her clit, shove toothpaste up her anus, 
and pull her tampon out and make her suck on it like a lollipop, before 
taping it inside her mouth with medical tape, creating an interesting 
gag, which I playfully threatened to take a photo of. Dog dishes! We had 
a family, but no dog or cat, I'd have to see about changing that. So, no 
dog or cat dishes to make Janice eat from, shoot. Gin' really loved 
playing "cowgirl" with her Aunt Janice, hobbling her with some loose 
ropeties and making her run around on all fours while she popped her 
tail with a yardstick, the only thing we could find handy for use as a 
paddle. Hot wax from the large votive candles on our nightstands and 
dresser that we often used as mood lighting when Ginny and I made love. 
Ginny squealed with even greater delight dropping the hot wax on to 
Jan's fine older tits and gaping-open older pussy, Jan squealing with 
masochistic and submissive delight from Gin's domination of her. And, 
after the hours of extended foreplay, sweet, sweet love, the kind only 
womyn, real women can give to each other. Morning, and new beginnings. 
Dawn, and a new life. Together. Wife and wife.

We didn't push plans for our wedding. I really wanted Jan to be there as 
my best man, and I wanted Richard to give Ginny away. Between he being 
on the road so much and she being so far away, I knew it was a when and 
not an "if", but the when was still an issue in flux. But we were 
happier than any time before in our lives together.

A few weeks later, Gin' was served with court papers. The good kind. Rod 
had filed for visitation rights to be able to see his daughter, and 
according to the subpoena and the supportive documents, he was willing 
to pay not just the 25% of his gross salary that the State Of North 
Carolina required, but as much as 35% without protest, just so he could 
see his daughter. I called Mr. Foy and told him the situation. We needed 
to talk with Rod, he agreed. Two weeks later, Rod called, and he and 
Gin' talked, for the first time since he walked out on her without a 
word. I closed the bedroom door and let them talk in peace for several 
hours. Coming out, she didn't look happy, or sad. "Tell Mr. Foy, Mom, 
that everything's cool. . . I don't have a problem with Rod being a 
father to Mae. . . in fact, I welcome it. . . it'd be good for Mae to 
know her father, don't you think?" The next day, I began drawing up 
trust papers to take all the child support money that Rod was going to 
pay and keep in trust until Ginny was twenty-five. We didn't need the 
money, with my position and salary, so it would be better for her to 
have a leg-up on life with it.

Time passed, months, years rolled on and in and over. Ginny had quit her 
night courses at Wake Tech, where she had been working towards an AA 
degree in business before getting pregnant, just 12 hours short of her 
degree. With Mae now at pre-school age, she decided it was time for her 
to do something, go back to work, go back to school, something. She 
decided to pursue an economics degree at nearby NC State.

Her male dating life had settled in pretty much on George, who played 
drums in "The Embers", the band she played second guitar with one or two 
nights weekly. Since they played locally, she and he would simply go 
back to either his place and back home, where she had converted the 
other spare bedroom into her "George" room when he came over to screw 
her, which was usually but not always on the nights they met someplace 
to play a gig. She also hit the odd bar sometimes, mainly just to see 
old friends, like the crew she used to hang out with when she was 
working at the Winn-Dixie warehouse, down at "Joe Blow's Bar", a quiet 
but definitely biker-type dive not too far from her old work and her 
Dad's place. I tried to date, but was getting too tired and too old and 
too cynical to enjoy the bar scene much. Ginny and I were married in 
every since of the word, except by law, and by ceremony. Years had gone 
by, and the wheels of life hadn't aligned themselves yet to where it 
felt just right and all the outside parties, i.e. Richard and Janice, 
could make the same date. I learned a long time ago not to question the 
voice of God, even when He speaks silently. So, I listened. And, He spake.

Walking downtown on a Saturday with Mae on a shopping trip, Ginny being 
off with George somewhere running errands for him, I happened to see a 
rack full of a new, free local arts-scene paper, "The Independent". 
Fishing one out from the rack to read while Mae and I munched on our 
peanuts purchased from "the peanut man" to feed ourselves and the 
Capitol Square pigeons and squirrels, the entire back page filled my 
mind and eyes with ads. Ads from singles, both gay and straight. Ads 
from couples looking for couples. Ads from couples looking for singles. 
Ads from other variants looking for other variants. I remember years 
back Jan telling me about her swinging days, and yes, her stories had 
fascinated me, but I hadn't thought about her old tales in years. Now, 
sitting on a bench in Capitol Square Park with my granddaughter on my 
knee on a perfect Sunday afternoon, old desires, old fantasies, old 
perversions started rolling back into my mind.

Confession. As much as I loved my Ginny and still wanted to be 
proclaimed her wife in a public ceremony eventually, sometime, I was 
getting restless, and bored. Gin had her non-monogamy outlet with George 
and the other odd boyfriend from time to time. I don't think she 
actively pursued other women, or I would have know about it, per our 
agreement of total disclosure concerning outside partners. The more I 
thought about my life and loves, including my two main loves, my Ginny 
and Mae, the more I wistfully remembered my old college days, when I was 
far more of a successful pussyhound than any of the fratbrothers that 
wouldn't have known as lesbian from a librarian if one had bitten them 
in the leg.

"You sure it's alright, Dear?. . . this will be all new to me. . . you 
sure it's okay with you if I pursue this avenue of exploration?" I asked 
as we sat close, smooching on the living room couch.
"Sure, it is, Mom. . . look, if you don't know where to stick it in, 
I'll come along and show you, no problem. . . "
"I'll show you where to stick 'it', young lady. . . c'mere, you stinker 
you. . . ." I playfully retorted as I pulled her close to me, kissing 
her fully, passionately. Our fingers were finding each other's cunts 
through our clothes when Mae toddled in from her room, breaking the 
moment, and stopping our action until later that evening.

My ad in "The Independent" generated over two hundred responses.
SWF, 39, 5'6", 140 lb.s, 38C-28-38, dr. hair, brown eyes, professional, 
NPR, NS, light drink, ND. . . .up until recently was a confirmed 
lesbian, still in open LTR with partner who encourages me to experiment, 
looking for a MWC, 25-50, NS, D&D free, intelligent, funny, experienced 
in multi-partner MFF situations, where he is straight and is she very 
bi. . . .must be experienced and caring teachers. . . LTR relationship 
possible with right couple.

Of course, a lot of the responses were from single guys, which I 
couldn't have cared less about, another high percentage were from MF 
couples where the wife was bi-curious but not bi-experienced, then there 
were those who scribbled their letters in crayon and those were just 
plain mean or nasty or demanding and those who obviously so lack 
decorum, and those who didn't follow my instructions in the ad and send 
non-nude photos of themselves along with their phone number and best 
time to call. From the two hundred, only six couples were serious 
candidates that I actually called and talked with. Then three, then two, 
then one, Henry and Bridgette Lacy, a MWC in their late 30's, both 
Raleigh natives as I had become. After talking three or four more times 
over the phone, and after they received a photo of me and decided they 
liked my looks, we decided to meet face-to-face, no pressure, no 
expectations for the first time, just to see of the "vibes" were right.

When we met initially over coffee at Cup-A-Joe's, I was nervous, as 
nervous as I had been in a long, long time. I was fifteen minutes early. 
They were on time. Having exchanged photos, they recognized me first as 
I was sitting on a 60's-style beanbag "chair". She walked up to me and 
kissed me on the cheek. He shook my hand as he leaned in to give me an 
air-hug.
"Carol. . . " he said, as I felt a metaphorical shoe above my ready to 
drop ". . . Bridgette and I have talked a lot about what might and might 
not be, become of this potential relationship. . . "
"And you've changed your minds?"
". . . ..no. . . .please, let me finish. . . it's just that, because of 
a bad experience in the past with someone else and I know they're not 
you and all that jazz, we just don't see me being your first guy, if we 
ever were to get that far. . . "

"I see".
"No. . . Carol. . . .you don't see. . . just like I know you've had some 
bad experiences in the past where, when you were another woman's first, 
they became obsessed with you, and made life hell for you for a while. . . "
"Uhhhh-hhhuuuuu. . . " I snipped with as much sarcasm as I could put in it.
". . . I'm not saying that you'd do that or be that way. . . what about 
this option. . . there's a swinging hotel-based social club that we 
attend every month that's holding its monthly social in two weekends. . 
. why don't you attend with us, as our guest?. . . and you mentioned 
that your s/o is not monogamous, either. . . .if she likes guy and or 
couples. . . ."
"Oh, yeah, she likes guys. . . ." I replied turning my gaze away from them.
". . . then bring her along, too. . . the only thing it'll cost you is 
the hotel room. . . .since you and your lover are both technically 
single women, the normal $25 per couple or single cover charge is 
waived. . . what'dya say?. . . think about it?"

Coffee cooled and friendly emotions warmed. They were nice a nice 
couple. Bridgette looked like she could eat a pussy through a park 
bench, her bi-ness oozed so freely. Henry seemed like an awfully, 
awfully nice guy. A lot like Richard. I just wanted some cock to see 
what it was like, but he slash they were adamant. So, in the end, I 
agreed to go, and try to get Ginny to come along, too. I didn't tell 
them she was my daughter, adopted or otherwise.

The Holiday Inn in the suburb of Richmond Vee-Aey was a typical Holiday 
Inn, decent for a mid-priced, affordable and with the Virginia Friendly 
Social group discount, even cheaper at $45 for Saturday night, including 
a complimentary cold breakfast bar the next morning. Henry and Bridgette 
were one of two couples person-ning the registration table on the third 
floor, which had been blocked off just for the VFS social and 
member-couples.

They fawned over Ginny. I was proud. My little girl, my formerly child 
lover, had grown into quite a woman. Motherhood had filled out her 
figure, but in all the right places. She had jumped and squealed with 
glee when I approached her about attending the social with me, and 
especially after talking with the Lacy's about the "cock carrousel" they 
were going to arrange for me, couldn't wait. The dance-social's theme 
was "The 60's", so we had put on old raggedy jeans and sandals and 
"lovebeads" and headbands I found at the Goodwill store. The Lacys and 
the Browns, the other couple manning the registration booth, both 
cheek-kissed us, as Mrs. Brown couldn't help but notice that Ginny's 
recently-changed driver's license sported the same last name as mine, 
something she had recently done, a symbol of our total love and devotion 
as mother and daughter and a family unit.
"Are. . . are you two, mother and daughter?" Mrs. Brown sputtered out.
"Yes. . . yes, we are. . . " Ginny replied, slightly playing with her 
head, knowing it would fuel a fantasy based on not entirely correct 
facts ". . . and we've been lovers for a long, long time. . . " long 
pause ". . . .since I was 10, and Mom was 24. . . and no, we're not from 
West Virginia. . . she's my mother by adoption, sorry" Ginny finally 
confessed, a look of disappointment sweeping over the two male and two 
female faces.

The dance itself was fairly boring. Even though the Lacys were long-time 
members and experienced swingers, they and everyone else seemed to 
walking on eggshells, afraid just to go up and ask someone to dance. 
It's pretty bad when a room full of a hundred swingers (fifty or so 
couples, and no other single women or men) all know you and your partner 
are there specifically hunting for males as well as females and M/F 
couples to fuck, especially men, and everyone's too damn shy just to 
walk up to you and ask you to dance. Playing the Sadie Hawkins bit, I 
did ask and finally got a few dances, but when I began (clothed, of 
course, nudity not being permitted in the large conference room/ballroom 
where the dance was being held, Virginia booze regulations and all) 
humping the leg of a womyn of a couple during a dance, innocently so, 
she freaked on me, darting back to her husband, whom I wanted more than 
her, anyway. Complaining to Henry during a break between songs, he told 
me not to worry, things had been arranged for later, just go by the 
hospitality suite at Room 302 after the dance, where no alcohol was to 
be served and things would be more orgy-like, and yes, he had a team of 
several men from some of the more experienced couples just waiting to 
"service" myself and Ginny.

Henry, true to his word and his fears, wasn't first, but he was second. 
For someone my age, he was physically in better shape than me, and he 
was long-lasting. Non-Bachelor Number One was someone ten years old than 
I and with a short cock and a shorter excitement phase than said cock, 
slightly balding, but with clean-smelling breath clean fingernails and 
an easy demeanor about it all, as he climbed on top of me on the pile of 
mattresses in the middle of the hospitality suite room, and took my 
male-to-female hetero virginity. I think his name was Dave, but I don't 
exactly recall. No matter. My virginity was taken again by Henry, who 
Husband Number Three told to get off me after fifteen minutes and not 
"hog" me. Dave was an okay lover, and feeling a real cock, a live 
flesh-and-blood one, not a rubber or plastic one, felt good. It felt 
good that in doing so, I was becoming closer to my Ginny, the love of my 
life. Motioning with my head, I sucked Henry for a while as Numbers 
Three, Four and Five all took their turn with me.

Ginny, in the meantime, a few feet away from me, was on all fours, 
anonymously accepting anything that was thrust insider her in turn. 
Henry left me to go try out Gin', and a couple of the wives joined the 
now-growing pile of bodies on, around, and near me. Rolling over to also 
be on all fours and eat an anonymous pussy while being fucked by my 
tenth then thirteenth then fifteenth, I think, anonymous cock, the waves 
of spiritous sanctus sexuous just began rolling through my body. 
Whatever cock was inside me, big one, little one, inbetween one, all 
started to feel good. My pussy slid out from under me and to one tit as 
another female mouth ministered to my other one, as cocks in turn from 
my pussy now started being rotated to my mouth. The gentlemen in 
question almost all would grab my ears or head and mouth-fuck me after 
pussy-fucking me. Except for the taste of latex covering their 
respective members, a taste I've never liked and never will, I didn't 
mind. Male power and domination voluntarily dominating me, at my 
request. Obtaining of power through surrendering of power. My cunt 
fucked them all as my mouth sucked them all. Ginny, in the meantime, was 
playing a rolling Maypole game with four of them as the cocks, I mean 
husbands, lay side-by-side on their backs, Ginny doing a juggling act 
trying to fuck all of them enough to keep them all erects, as their 
wives watched from a few feet away with bemused comedy.

After Ginny and I had done a faux M&D scene for the group's amusement, 
word having gotten around that we were indeed mother and daughter by 
adoption, and one last go'round of what cocks were able to stand firm 
enough that Ginny or I hadn't deflated from my night of fun being 
repeatedly deflowered. We went back to Henry and Bridgette's room to 
continue after the hospitality room was closed down. Henry continued his 
excellent teachings of me in the ways of hetero sex. His cock didn't 
want to stop being used as a classroom demonstration model. He was 
patient as he worked with me on my oral-giving techniques to him, 
getting me to relax and take his member deeper and deeper, getting me to 
not be afraid to stroke and play with his balls, things like that, as 
Bridge' and Gin' would join in to show me different ways they knew, too. 
Astride him on top, his cock felt good, yes, I said felt great(!) inside 
me, more so now than the first few times around in the group room. His 
somewhat rough but clean masculine hands played with one breast and 
massaged my clit as I rocked atop my cock rocking chair, as Gin' gave me 
some her sweet anal bathings from behind, and Bridgette ate her in turn.

Coming home, Ginny had the most happy, contented look on her face that I 
had seen in a long, long time.
"Mom, you're simply wonderful. . . you know that?. . . you know how much 
I love you?"
"Yeah, Baby, about a tenth as much as I love you. . . "
"Mom, I know you did what you did for me. . . ."
". . . only partially, Dear, only partially. . . I also did it, actually 
mainly did it, because I was getting bored and horny and missed my 
having other friends to share my bed with, and between Rod and your 
father, I was just getting more curious about cocks, too. . . "

Ginny just snuggled her head into my shoulder more, her hand lazily 
drifting to my crotch as I drove southward down '85 back to Raleigh. Her 
nose nuzzled my ear.
"Mom. . . Mom?. . . ."
"Yes. . . what is it, Gin'?"
". . . sometime back, I proposed to you, and you so said 'yes', and I 
thought we'd get married soon, but we never did. . . "
". . . well, you know how things have been. . . Janice's schedule keeps 
her on the road a lot, and your father's always gone, and. . . "
". . . Mom, I love you, but shut up. . . and no more excuses. . . thirty 
days from now, to the date, we're going to be married. . . and if Dad 
and Aunt Janice can't make it, so be it, I'm just tired of waiting. . . 
Mom, please, no more BS. . . marry me, or divorce me".

I looked deep into her eyes and could tell she wasn't kidding. No, she 
wouldn't leave me, not leave the home we shared, I didn't think, but I 
knew what the implied threat was: either marry her publicly, or she 
would start a slow process of emotional and spiritual withdrawment from me.
"I'll marry you, Babycheeks, okay, I'll marry you, in exactly thirty days".



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~




Once in a while, it does come in handy to be a partner in a 
well-respected professional practice firm in accounting or similar 
fields. Calling in a couple of favors, I was able to obtain use of the 
old Episcopal Church on Portsmouth Island, just south of Ocracoke Island 
on North Carolina's Outer Banks. Portsmouth Island had been deserted for 
decades, and had been owned by the US Park Service since the 30's. The 
only way over to it was by private boat, so except for the odd fisherman 
or usually just three or four tourists per day during the early season, 
we'd have the island to ourselves. Along with use of the chapel, also 
came weekend use of a couple of the old homes, long abandoned, having no 
electricity, but kept in habitable shape by the Park Service for use by 
VIP's and the lucky weekend guests during the season which otherwise 
were determined by lottery.

The thirty days leading up to our wedding was a whirlwind. First, the 
dresses. We decided to dress identically, in formal white knee-length 
wedding dresses of contemporary almost business-suit-style, white shoes 
and hose, and formal hats with lattice tatted lace adorning them. Being 
on an island with no electricity meant some compromises. So, we 
purchases a battery-powered boom-box for the wedding music, and three 
large coolers for the catered trays, all the caterers we called not 
being interested in catering such a small wedding that far out of their 
normal range. Janice, fussing because she'd have to take two vacation 
days to come down but being the friend she still was, and I decided that 
she would wear a light peach-colored bridesmaid dress and outfit, and 
Richard finally consented into wearing a similarly colored tux.

We seriously considered leaving Mae at home, because of the boat trip 
involved and all, but she wouldn't hear of it, and really, it was her 
place to be there. Rev.June Morris of the local Metropolitan Community 
Church agreed to officiate the service, as long as she could have a 
separate cabin to spend the weekend at Portsmouth, before and after the 
service. The photographer we wanted to use, a friend of a friend, was 
expensive, and wanted to be a real pain, we finally agreeing on close to 
two thousand dollars and the use of another cabin on the island for the 
weekend, too. We hit all the jewelry stores in town, looking for 
suitable wedding ring sets. Call me a tease, and it's not like we pushed 
things, but when a clerk would insist without taking the hint of finding 
out who we were looking at the wedding rings for, we'd say simply "us".

Not finding anything in any of the better jewelry stores, we wandered 
over the NC State Flea Market the following weekend, where there 
happened to be a Gem & Mineral Show going on inside the Kerr Scott 
Building. There, we found a fellow traveler, a womyn who I recognized as 
having seen from time to time at my bars when I was seriously mining the 
bars for pussygold, and she knew exactly what we wanted. An hour later, 
Ginny and I walked out from the show with two large but not 
too-masculine whitegold wedding ring and engagement ring sets, with 
half-carat rubies in the settings instead of the more traditional 
traditional marriage diamonds.

Two weeks later on a Friday afternoon, and there we went. The plane ride 
from Wanchese down to Buxton in the mid-sized unpressurized Beechcraft 
made us all airsick, and the charterboat ride from Hatteras to 
Portsmouth made us seasick on top of things. Nothing like throwing up 
together in each other's laps on your wedding day to make one appreciate 
you're going to share every possible intimacy with that someone special 
for the rest of your lives together. Mae, to her credit, wasn't affected 
by any of it.

We had planned to be married in the old Christ The King Episcopal 
Church, but as we awoke anew and renewed to a perfect morning, it was 
simply too perfect to be married inside. Richard and the photographer 
being temporary packmules, they dragged the photographer's equipment and 
such to a high dune on the east side of the island that we had noticed 
from our cabins. There, atop a high dune facing a rising sun over a 
moderately whitecapped sea, Rev. Morris did her thing as Ginny and I 
took each other's hands and pledged our eternal love and fidelity to 
each other. The ring as it went on my hand felt both like a 
ball-and-chain and a set of angel wings, Ginny sliding it on with a 
practiced ease like she had been through this before, oh yeah that's 
right, Husband Number One and all, and lip-locked me for all she was 
worth as Rev. June barely got "brides, you may now kiss each other" from 
her lips before Ginny had me in an embrace so intimate that it was 
giving the photographer a visible hard-on through his pants. Sweet Mae, 
who was acting as our ring bearer, Janice giving me away as Richard gave 
Ginny to me, rushed the three steps to be within our embrace. The three 
of us hugged a hug of eternity.

Making the trek back to our cabins, we feasted on the three full Igloo 
coolers of catered trays of deli delights we had brought, as champagne 
was sipped if not guzzled, and Ginny and I fed each other small handfuls 
of our wedding cake, the figurines of two brides atop the third tier. 
Rev. June put on a CD of Jewish wedding and wedding dance music, as the 
father of one of the brides danced with his daughter, and then with his 
new daughter-in-law (wife-in-law?), me, playfully grabbing my butt 
through my wedding dress for all to see. Everytime Gin' and would kiss, 
the photographer's eyes would get as big as the proverbial saucers, like 
he had never seen two women kiss before. Then it was done. The ceremony 
was over. Our lives together had just begun, as an "official" couple, 
married in every way but by the laws of the State Of North Carolina.

Everyone changing clothes and cleaning up a bit, Richard took his 
granddaughter surffishing, walking down to the south end of the island, 
as Ginny and I headed back over to the dune, the altar of perfection of 
Mother Nature, we were just married atop of. Rev. June scooted somewhere 
else, as did the photographer. Stripping our old khakis and sandals and 
loose tops off, Ginny and I walked out into the surf, and consummated 
our marriage with fishes as our witnesses. As the waves washed over us, 
we were baptized in our nakedness and embraces together as a new couple, 
as Mrs. & Mrs. Black.

The sun was beginning to set. We needed to head on back. Richard 
wandered up from the second set of dunes as we both were toweling each 
other off. I don't know if he had ever seen Ginny naked before or not, 
at least not since she was little.
"Where's Mae?" I asked as my towel rubbed Ginny's naked back, her naked 
front exposed to her father.
"Oh, she's with Rev. Morris, June's babysitting her, I think they're at 
the inlet bay trying to catch some crabs with some leftover canapes'. . 
. .need any help?" he asked sincerely and non-erotically.
"Sure, Richard, you can do my back if you want, get the sand off me. . . "

His touch was most decidedly non-new-father-in-law. Ginny, still nude, 
rubbed my front, playing with my breasts through the towel rubs. She 
kissed me, fully. He gulped. I turned to him and kissed my old friend. 
Ginny joined our kiss. We lay the towels down to form a cleanspace where 
sand wouldn't dig into flesh, and lay down together, Richard shedding 
his clothes as he and I lay on either side of Ginny. His greying hair 
fleckled white in the gathering dusk. Somehow, I knew that this moment 
had been inevitable. I had known that for a very long time. I took his 
hand and put it on my wife's pussy. My fingers guided his fingers to her 
tampon string, and he  pulled the plug out from his daughter's chunnel 
with an unconscious ease, tossing into the waves coming into shore at 
our feet like so much fishfood. I leaned into to suck him hard.
"Richard, you and Ginny both have wanted this moment for such a long 
time. . . I love my wife, and I love you as my friend. . . "

". . . Fuck. . . Richard, don't you want to fuck your daughter?"
He looked at me, then stared deeply into the reflecting pools of passion 
yet to be spent that were Ginny's eyes. Soft rays from a rising moon 
bathed us.
"Melanie. . . ." he said, calling her by the name she didn't like and 
only he sometimes used with her still.
"Yes, Daddy?" she answered as she played with his rising member, my 
mouth firmly on one of her tits, his hand caressing the other.
". . . do you want to make love to your ol' Dad?. . . is this really 
what you want?"
"Oh yes, Daddy. . . it's what I've wanted ever since I was a little girl."

Richard slipped down between her legs. Our lips met in honeymoon lava.
"Mom. . . I. . . I love you, Mom. . . .".
"I love you too, Baby. . . and I love your father, too. . . let's make 
love".

My hand joined Richard's in my wife's cunt. She was slippery with her 
monthly fluids. Neither one of us cared. My fingers brushed a taste 
between our lips. Richard joined our kiss, his hard flagpoling at 
attention. Crawling atop his daughter, my daughter, my wife, he entered 
her silently save for some softly whispered "I love you"'s. Ginny raised 
her legs over and high, wickedly exposing her cunt to him so he could 
drive deeper inside her. My mouth found their point of connection, my 
tongue bathed their union between father and daughter. He pinned her 
shoulders down firmly as he continued to ride her. My tongue and finger 
found her anus, then found his. Bucking like he had never had any oral 
stimulation before, he almost instantly came. Kneeling before him as he 
stood upright, Ginny and I mouth-fucked him, licking his still semi-hard 
cock clean of her menstrual blood, all of delighting in this playfully 
erotic scene. His cock bode hard once again. It was my wedding night, 
too. And I wanted some cock, dammit.

I got on top of Richard while Ginny sat on his face facing me.

Her fluidic impulses painted his face like he was a Hatteras Indian of 
old, not a modern man of the new. He didn't care. He slapped at my 
asscheeks firmly with his open palms, trying to whip my passion higher 
still. His cock felt so very, very good inside me. The warmth of his 
imperfect fleshy member, its slight crook, its bumps and veins popping, 
the pulse of his manhood throbbing inside me, as my Ginny leaned into me 
to gently bite my nipples and roughly play with my breasts as her father 
continued his oralling of her, her hand finding my clit it wandered down 
to the crossroads of my sexuality. That did it. I cried out a loud, 
sorrowful but happy cry. I was no longer a lesbian womyn. As of that 
moment and for forever on, I was to be a bisexual, a truly bisexual 
womyn. I came and came again, pounding on Richard's chest, telling me 
with some fear but without reservation that yes, dammit, I loved him, 
too. Mauling my breasts as Ginny scooted off as he lay under me, he told 
me he had always loved me too. His cock squirted what was left of his 
come inside me, and we three lay in maybe puzzled a little but happy 
semi-slumber.

Then, a rustling of the sea oats, and Janice popped out.
"Well, I can see this is an open honeymoon. . . can anyone join in?" she 
asked only half-jokingly.
"Aunt Janice, we need to head on back, I need to check on Mae. . . "
"Mae's fine, Dear, Rev. June already put her to bed for you. . . "
"No, seriously, we need to head on back. . . would you be a Dear Aunt 
Janice and run back and get me another tampon?. . . I'd ever so much 
appreciate it. . . "
"Sure, Ginny Dear, after I'm, we're through. . . ."

Janice wanted some of Richard's cock, too. She tried and tried to suck 
him back firm, but to no avail. We three did a lesbian daisychain for 
Richard so he'd become aroused once more, but I think the emotion of the 
moment passed had simply been too much for his mind to handle. Janice 
ran back to our cabin to get Ginny a tampon. We three lay on the 
beachtowels, hot, sweaty, our bodies glistening in the moonlight, 
covered in each other's fantasies fulfilled and futures yet to be so. 
Ginny and I both softly played with Richard's cock as he lay between us, 
leaning over to kiss each other from time to time. Silence spake eloquence.
"I. . . Ginny, Carol. . . I don't want this to end. . . God help me, I 
don't want this to end".
Ginny and I met for a kiss inches from Richard's face. We let him see 
the real love we had for each other, had for each other all these years, 
now locked in commitment to each other for eternity.
"There's no reason it has to, Richard. . . " I responded.
"Nope, no reason at all, Daddy. . . we love you. . . ".

After we got back to Raleigh that late Sunday afternoon, after seeing 
Janice off to her eight-hour plane trip back across country, after 
unpacking our stuff as Richard helped us, Richard went home for a bit 
and came back with all his suitcases full of his clothes and such. Ginny 
and I both smiled as we helped him put his stuff away in our bedroom 
closets. Family. We were going to be the family that Ginny had always 
wanted and I had always wanted and even Richard I think also wanted.

A couple of years later, Richard and I were formally married in a civil 
ceremony at a small wedding chapel down in Dillon, South Carolina. Ginny 
and I placed a matching man's wedding band to our whitegold wedding ring 
sets on his finger together, symbolizing what we had become, a true 
triad, group marriage. My wonderful wife Ginny whom I had loved forever 
and my husband Richard whom I had fallen in love with over a long period 
of time and come to deeply love. Yes, husband. A term just a few years 
ago I thought would be always unfamiliar to me.

After our accidental "marriage" to Richard on the beach of Portsmouth 
the night of her's and my wedding, she did become more or less 
monogamous after that, as did I. A few months after moving in together, 
we invited Bridgette and hubby over, and had a wonderful time swinging 
with them, something we did for a few months regularly until they 
decided they didn't want to swing any longer. Whenever Janice would come 
see us, the four of us would just rip loose and have fun. I did love my 
first wife so, still. When one of us would find a likely candidate, 
always another womyn, whoever found her would pop the question of 
wanting to swing with us three, sometimes the answer being "yes", 
sometimes "no".

Ginny finished her degree at State. Richard, having put his thirty in 
pushing bigrigs all over North America for Winn-Dixie, took his 
retirement. We moved into a bigger house off of White Oak Lane. Mae 
continued to blossom into such a pretty young woman.

One day a couple of years past that, Mae came home from school, 
absolutely beaming.
"Mom, Granny Carol. . . I got my period today!. . . "
We all hugged her, congratulating her, telling her how proud of her we were.

". . . but, now, Mom, Granny C.,. . . this doesn't mean I'm going to let 
Granny C. do to me what she did to Mom all those years back. . . "
I look puzzled as a bee trying to mate with a bottle of fingernail 
polish over her remarks. How did she know? She knew the truth of our 
relationship, her Mom's and mine, knew that she was my granddaughter 
through adoption, knew that Ginny and I were lovers and that her 
Granddad who was now also her Dad was lover to us both, but we had never 
hinted how Ginny and I had met all those years now pushing decades ago, 
ever, it was none of her business, quite frankly.
"How. . . how do you know how your Mom and I met all those years ago, Hon'?"

"Oh, Daddy Dick told me a couple of years ago, after he had his 
facts-of-life talk with me after you and Mom had yours with me, that's 
how. . . "
Daddy Dick, indeed. Daddy Dickhead, more like it. But what could I say. 
It was the truth. And I loved him, was in love with him, as was Ginny. 
We three totally loved each other.
". . . now, Mom, Granny C., we can still have fun, I still love my Mommy 
and Granny, I just don't want to do none of the lezbo with ya', okay?"
"Sure, Hon'. . . ." Ginny replied ". . . Granny Carol and I weren't 
planning on doing anything lez-bo with you anyway, Dear. . . what 
happened between she and I was special, and I'd never trade what 
happened all those years ago, because it lead to her becoming my wife 
and I hers and Daddy Dick marrying the both of us eventually, but no, 
Hon', we weren't going to push anything on you. . . ".
"That's great, Mom. . . but. . . would you and Granny C. still show me, 
teach me how to use tampons now?" she replied with giggling girl innocence.


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