I was still awake when Sally gently lifted the covers and slid her naked body underneath. It was our first 'normal' night in over a week, with both of us in bed at the same time. Janey was sleeping comfortably now, and with her maternal link, Sally would be awake at the first sign of trouble. I had observed this 'link' in action on numerous occasions and, while it seemed to be abnormally strong, I didn't think of it as odd or unusual.
At first, Sally stayed completely on the far side of the bed, not wanting contact, or perhaps not wanting to wake me. After restlessly tossing about for a while, unable to get comfortable, or maybe just making sure I was awake, she edged closer, finally moving her gorgeous ass into me 'spoon fashion.' Now, under normal circumstances, when she came to bed naked and backed into me like that, it was a signal for a night of wild sex. Even though we had gone a long week without any sort of sexual relief, somehow I didn't think that sex was what she wanted tonight, and, fortunately, my dick behaved for once and didn't try to poke into her uncharacteristically unreceptive body. Self-preservation runs deep in my family.
I figured with all the bouncing around she had been doing that she wanted me to be awake, so I moved my arm over her and drew her close. Her large firm tits, normally so convenient in that position, went unmolested as we cuddled. She gave a deep sigh and snuggled firmly into my body, savoring the simple skin-to-skin contact she shared with me all along her back from shoulders to toes. I expected more tears. She just sighed.
Sally was still in crisis mode and her mind was going a thousand miles an hour. So was mine. Several minutes - hours? - passed in silence.
"Larry? You awake?" she asked quietly.
"Uh-huh." I hesitated, not knowing which direction to go. I took the safe route. "So, do you think Janey's going to be OK?"
I could feel her nod.
"Yes. The doctors said by Monday she could go back to school with full activities. The counselor agreed, too. She said the sooner she goes back the better."
"Monday? So soon? But... ?" I let the unspoken question hang there. Sally didn't answer it.
Sally was quiet for a long time. I had almost given up continuing the conversation and, in all truth, I was content to just hold her. Skin on skin was something I could get used to, especially when it was hers and mine. Under the circumstances, the closeness had a healing, bonding effect on me. I hoped she was feeling the same things. Comfortable with these sensations, I almost missed it when she continued.
"Larry, you know how much I like sex," she said quietly.
Huh? This came from out of the blue, from left field, from nowhere. My bewilderment must have been obvious, even in the dark. I could almost feel her grinning at my confusion.
"You must have realized by now, Larry, that I have a much higher sexual appetite than normal. I always have. I have been aware of it since I first learned boys and girls were different. It was difficult, especially when I was Janey's age, but I never let it control me, or determine my actions. Influence them, yes, sometimes unwisely, but at that age they did not determine them, no. Sex has been one of the greatest joys of my life.
"Janey is my daughter in every way. I haven't encouraged or discouraged her sexuality. I didn't need to. She has masturbated since age 5, the same time I started. However, she has been aware from the beginning that other people wouldn't understand if she involved them in her sexual activities and has always acted responsibly. She was - she is a good kid. She hasn't given me a bit of trouble in that way, and I always assumed she would grow up and have as rewarding a sex life as I have.
"But now? Oh, God, Larry, now I'm so afraid for her. Maybe it's weird, but she and I have a link or something between us, especially when we are near to each other. I can't explain it, exactly. It's like we can sense each other's moods and feelings. It's not mind reading, exactly. But I know when she's horny or happy, and she senses when I am sad, and how very happy you have made me."
She stopped and brought her hands up between her breasts, capturing my hand between hers.
"The Janey I had 'felt' before is gone. Until today - no, it was sometime last night. Before then all I got when I was near her was fear, fear of sex, fear of men, fear of herself and her sexual feelings, and tremendous guilt. It's still bad; it's as if she thinks she is responsible for what happened.
"I know right now she is healing physically and that she'll get over most of the pain in time. But her first sexual experience with another person was so traumatic, so horrendous! I'm afraid she'll never let a man near her again, that she will never experience this wonderful thing between two people, that she will never let anyone close enough to know love."
Sally hugged my hands to her again to show me what she meant.
"I'm afraid she will never have the courage to meet new people, to trust them, to venture out into the exciting places in life. That she will always be suspicious of people and that it will turn her into an ugly person. 'Ugly on the inside becomes ugly on the outside.'"
I let her talk. I didn't understand some of what she was saying, especially about that link thing and all, but I knew enough to keep quiet. Finally the silence got to me, and I had to open my big fat mouth.
"So, is there anything we can do to help her get over this?"
That's right. I said "we." Stupid, stupid, stupid.
She seemed to give a start, as if 'doing' something about it had not occurred to her. Or maybe it was that 'we' would do it together. I don't know. I do know I could sense the sudden change in her attitude and the change in the direction of her thoughts, even without being able to see her face. Her whole body radiated excitement as she grasped on to this tiny ray of hope.
"Well, what I think she needs is someone who can teach her, be patient with her, let her be the instigator while gently encouraging her exploration of her sexuality until her fear of sex is gone. It would have to be someone older; someone she trusts, someone more experienced. Someone she knows already."
"Where would you find someone like that?" I asked. "It doesn't sound like they would be listed in the Yellow Pages."
I just about said something about a particular High School teacher who came to mind. We had discussed his known proclivities for young girls before, but the fucking teacher's union was strong in this state and he just kept on molesting - all right, allegedly molesting, young girls. I also didn't think a 'funny' remark would have been the right thing to say at that particular moment. Given what she said next and what happened as a result, I sometimes wonder what would have happened if I had broken the mood at that moment. But we'll never know, will we?
"I don't know. Right now, you're the only man I know of who I trust enough to ... Oh, my! Larry!" her voice trailed off, as the solution became as obvious to her as my sudden erection jabbing into her ass.
Let me explain a few things. First, Sally is, as far as I am concerned, the perfect woman. Not just for me. She is THE perfect woman. I personally know of several other red-blooded males who agree, and who are extremely jealous of my relationship with her. Comments about giving a left nut in exchange for an evening with her, etc. might be inappropriate given the circumstances, but hey, it is the thought that counts, right?
Sally is smart, witty, loving, caring, giving, yada yada yada. Don't misunderstand. I don't mean to trivialize those attributes; I just need to save several megabytes of hard disk space by not listing each and every one of them. I consider things like honesty, integrity, and trust to be among her best qualities, but, for the moment, her physical attributes are more appropriate to consider.
Sally stands 5'2" in her stocking feet. Those delicate feet grace the ends of two of the shapeliest legs God could ever dream of forming, if God ever dreamed at all, much less of female anatomy. At the top of her thighs, she is both trim and voluptuous at the same time. In front, her mound doesn't mound at all. Her stomach is hard and flat. Not a bulge, not a wrinkle in that silky smooth expanse of skin, even when bending over. Her hips flare slightly, and narrow to a waspish waist. And that's after one birth!
From behind, she looks slightly more Reubinesque. You've heard it said before, but in this case it is true; she has an ass to die for. It is high, tight, unblemished and firm, yet soft to the touch with resilient, fully rounded, mouth watering mounds.
I remember vividly the first time that I had seen her near naked ass revealed to me in all of its splendor. She was in a black thong bikini. We had been dating for about a month and things were going well between us. We were both anxious about our first sexual encounter, but realized that what was building between us was special. We both wanted to give it time to grow at its own pace. We were not yet ready for an overnighter, well, I was ready, I just didn't want her to reject me this early on in the relationship. Anyway, I had invited her to a friend's secluded place on the island for the day.
When I arrived to pick her up on the appointed day, she skipped out to the car, not waiting for me to get out and come to the door as I usually did. Stopping by the door on my side of the car she slid off her thin cover-up, sexily posed for me once or twice, and then twirled around.
I must have choked or something, as she stopped halfway around and looked back inquisitively at me over her shoulder to see what had made that funny sound. My leering, lusting expression would have gotten me fired for sexual harassment in any office in America but the Oval Office, and I blushed, embarrassed at my obvious lust and arousal. My cock, earlier content to rest in the confines of my own suit, broke ranks and showed its swollen head over the waistband of my shorts, high enough she could see it from where she stood.
My jaw moved, and I gestured apologetically, convinced she would bolt for the nearest policeman. Her spontaneous laughter and pleasure at my visible appreciation of her appearance and my obvious desire for her body saved the moment, making it one of the most special memories we shared.
I did wait until we got to the beach house, but I had to fuck her in the car before we even got to the sandy walkway. I couldn't walk I was so hard. When I think back, I didn't fuck her. We fucked each other. The fucking was more than mutual. We did it again on the blanket - before lunch. Twice more after lunch and a couple of times on the way back to the car. It was a long beach. Every time she walked in front of me in that tiny black thong bottom, I got rock hard. She knew it, too, enjoying her affect on me as much as I did.
That night at my apartment she came to bed in just those bikini bottoms, walking back and forth several times as she prepared for bed, dancing and teasing me to a hardness I had never thought possible this side of concrete.
That was the first time we did it anal. It wasn't the last. She wore that suit often.
So much for her ass.
If anything, Sally felt her tits were 'smallish.' They were nowhere near "small," filling her C-sized bra cups to overflowing. She liked the tight feeling, the bounce and jiggle a tight foundation garment gave her chest, so she wore them that way. However, she didn't need to wear a bra at all. Her tits rode high on her chest, like a much younger woman's would and were only slightly more rounded on the bottom when loosened from their confinement. Perky light pink nipples were surrounded by darker rosy aureoles a little larger than a quarter. Those sensitive nubs would stiffen to hardened turgid buttons a little less that ½ inch long when she was aroused, which was often. Oddly, one of her nipples, the left, had been pierced at some time prior to our relationship. One of her many mysteries, as yet unsolved.
She had blonde hair, and unusual green eyes - Irish green, not hazel - that didn't miss a moment of life, creamy smooth skin that tanned in two seconds and held it for months. When Sally learned of my penchant for tan lines, those three tiny white triangles of un-suntanned skin over her nipples and pussy lips, she developed a seemingly permanent set of distinct tan lines. I have always preferred white meat over dark, and I proved it to her the night she unveiled her new look, but it took hours and hours until she was fully convinced. I didn't mind at all.
Even with her killer body, it was her face I loved the most. I could watch her for hours, and did so as often as I could. She wasn't embarrassed at the attention I paid to her, even when she learned I got hard as iron simply by looking at her. She would just give me a knowing smile and laugh. Depending on the circumstances, she would alternatively torture me, making me even harder by flaunting her body, or she might relieve me with her hand or mouth. She was a sexy, beautiful woman, breathtaking, heart-stoppingly gorgeous, and generous to a fault.
She had one special look that could pierce my darkest mood and fire my blood as no one had ever done before. She would kind of a look up at me through her eyelashes with her face tilted slightly down and a little to one side. Her pouty lower lip would glisten with just the tip of her tongue showing, an innocent smile teasing the corners of her moist lips. When she gave me that look I would melt. I would give diamonds, rubies, and my kingdom for that smile.
Once, when she looked at me like that, her tongue wasn't showing. Instead, she had just the knob of my swollen cock in her mouth. We had made a bet - I was still under the mistaken impression I had some control in this relationship - that she could make me cum with no hands, no bobbing, no sucking, no tonguing. Just her mouth. In under a minute.
She won. I didn't last 30 seconds. She just looked up at me with those incredible green eyes, batted them once or twice, wantonly winked at me, and had to swallow a gallon of my juice. Which she did, laughing with me. As the loser, I 'had' to attend the opera with her for six months.
That's the first thing I needed to explain.
The second is that Janey is all that, just younger and maybe a bit firmer in one or two places. Hell, she's almost 20 years younger, and, not to say that Sally looks or acts her age, Janey has the advantage and the allure of youth; more energy, more curiosity, more innocence.
Of course, I have to assume she looks the same naked as her mother. I have never seen anything but her legs and arms bare and those matched up pretty close to Sally's. I knew the two of them traded clothes all the time and Sally would only stretch out the smallest of Janey's tops. Those tight ones happened to be my personal favorites, especially the bare midriff tank tops made of thin material. I checked the label for the size on one after it was carefully discarded for the night and purchased Sally several of her own for just the two of us. I had had to replace several of them over time as they kept being ripped off of her whenever she wore them. I think Sally was secretly pleased with her overall effect on me, as she wore them often, many times taunting me in public by revealing she was wearing one under a sweater or sweatshirt.
But I digress. Although I had noticed and admired Janey, I had never thought of her in a sexual sense. Sally was all I wanted, all I needed, and Janey was a minor, a mature minor, for sure, but still underage. Let's face it, Sally was all I could handle, and besides, why spoil a terrific thing? On top of that, I didn't have all that much contact with Janey as I wasn't staying overnights that often. She had her life and Sally and I were building ours. I hoped, kind of, that she would be a bigger part of my life with Sally at some point, but like that? Holy Shit! No way!
So there we were, lying in bed, Sally's wonderfully firm, warm ass nestled in my crotch, talking quietly, dealing with this crisis in an adult and reasoned manner. And suddenly this picture of my cock disappearing into Janey's soft, warm, moist mouth springs unbidden into my head. It was clearly an inappropriate moment for a hard-on, but my pecker suddenly seemed to have developed a suicidal mind of its own. Instant woody and it jabbed forcefully into Sally's ass, pressing directly into, but not penetrating her asshole. Thank God for small favors. Hey, how about an 'On/Off' switch on these things next time You design something? OK, Big Fella?
Somehow that vividly erotic image, and the multitude of others that quickly joined it in my brain of that vibrant teen in various sexual positions, invigorated my organ. It was a most inopportune time, considering she had just been assaulted.
I knew I was in deep shit.
There was no way for her to miss my arousal or to not know what had caused it. We had both realized the obvious, albeit ludicrous, solution to Janey's problem at the same time. We just had different images of it. If I hadn't been so pre-occupied with the erotic visions filling my head, I might have tried to cover, scrabble together some romantic reason for my arousal, and make it perhaps a little better. As it was, I knew she knew. As I realized what had happened, time stopped dead while I waited for her to do or say something.
I almost cried out when she shifted her body away from me, leaving my erection bobbing freely in the space between us.
"Well. I see you like them young." Her voice was sounded almost bitter, hurt.
With that, she moved farther away from me onto her side of the bed. It was the first night we spent together, apart. I didn't like it.
I felt like dead man walking; walking in deep shit, that is.