Unspoken Pleasure (erotica)

"So you would be ok with it?" Karen questioned.

"Yes, although I'd rather she be straight and eventually get married and have kids and all the other typical American family dream stuff," I answered honestly, hoping my daughter was just curious and not actually gay.

"It's 2010, Mrs. Wyatt, she can still get married and have kids even if she marries a wife instead of a husband," Karen pointed out, using my own words against me.

"Oh, I know," I agreed, but rationalized, "but it's still particularly tough to live in today's world as a gay couple unless you move to San Francisco."

She shrugged before asking me a question I wasn't remotely expecting, "Have you ever had a lesbian experience, Mrs. Wyatt?"

"My goodness, no," I responded.

"Does the idea disgust you then?" Karen asked, sounding like I'd offended her.

"Oh, no, no, no, it's not that," I tried to recover, "It's just that I grew up in a much more black-and-white time. You met a boy, got married, had kids and so forth. Being a lesbian back then almost made you a pariah, like being from the wrong side of the tracks."

"So you've never thought another woman was attractive?"

"Oh sure, I mean of course I know when a woman is good-looking. I've often compared myself to other women, especially when I was married and I saw my hubby checking out the younger ones."

"But you never were tempted to do anything with them?"

"No," I answered honestly, wondering how this conversation had shifted from Karen's coming out to my own non-lesbian lifestyle.

"Never?" she asked, her tone shifting in a way I can't explain, but which implied she thought I was lying.

I too quickly responded, "No, never."

At that moment, Karen spilt her half-full glass of iced tea onto her cheerleader's top. "Oh shit," she cursed, "I'm so clumsy. If this stains, coach will kill me. I've already wrecked one this year."

At that moment, Karen spilt her half-full glass of iced tea onto her cheerleader's top. "Oh shit," she cursed, "I'm so clumsy. If this stains, coach will kill me. I've already wrecked one this year." Instantly leaping into Mother-crisis mode I ordered, "Here, hand it to me. I'll throw it in the wash right away."

She quickly obeyed and stunned me when I saw she wasn't wearing a bra and her young, firm breasts were suddenly uncovered directly in front of me. I froze in a slight daze, staring at them. Karen asked, her tone innocent and sweet, "Is anything wrong, Mrs. Wyatt?"

Her words brought me back to reality and I stammered, pretending her firm naked breasts hadn't had any effect on me, "N-n-n-n-no, nothing. I'll just go and throw this in the wash."

I began to leave, but Karen ordered me, "Stop! I got some on my skirt, too." She slipped out of her skirt and was now wearing nothing but beige thigh high stockings and what appeared from the tiny pink triangle in front to be a thong. Not able to speak, I took the skirt and top and quickly rushed downstairs, my head a mess. While I tossed the clothes in my washing machine I tried to straighten out my head, not able to erase Karen's almost naked body from my mind. I took a deep breath and chanted to myself over and over, 'I am not a lesbian, I am not a lesbian, I am not...' Finally reasonably confident in my self-control, I went back upstairs. Karen was still sitting at the kitchen table, still half-naked, still captivating. "I'd better go get you a robe," I managed, and fled upstairs to Jenny's bedroom. I returned breathlessly and handed her the robe.

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She stood up, "Can you please put it on for me, Amy?"

A strange request, but wanting her covered up as quickly as possible to derail the impact her nudity was having on me, I obliged. My hands shook slightly as I stood in such close proximity to this gorgeous and manipulative girl who was causing me to question my sexuality. She backed up to me as she reached her arms through the sleeves and once it was on, she turned around so we were eye to eye. She leaned in, I thought to kiss my lips, but instead she kissed my cheek. A tingle spread to my vag... sorry, 'cunt', and I desperately tried to ignore it.

She excused herself to go to the washroom and I waited, the whole time running through... I don't know, song titles beginning with the letter 'J', anything to try and extinguish a fire that was getting hard to ignore. She came back a couple minutes later and placidly... totally unlike me... sat across from me, returning to our conversation as if it had never been interrupted. "So you have never... ever... thought about another girl sexually?"

"I didn't say that," I replied, attempting to make a joke about it.

"So, you have thought of a girl sexually?" she asked, her tone giving just a hint of flirtation.

"I imagine every woman has at some point," I responded, attempting desperately to make it seem generic and not personal... certainly not about her and me.

"Ya think?" she grinned, which confirmed to me that she was indeed flirting with me. While my head tried to resist the temptation, the fire in my belly was getting harder to ignore.

I shrugged, still desperately attempting to keep things casual, "Of course."

I heard a thump under the table and Karen cursed, "Ouch, shit, I stubbed my toe again."

"Are you OK?" I asked, motherly instinct again luring me into dangerous waters.

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"I think so, but can you come around and take a look?" she asked, turning her chair away from the table.

Without thinking, I went around, dropped to the floor and took her stockinged foot into my hand. "I don't see anything hurt, Karen. I think you..." I began and, as I looked up, I saw her completely uncovered pussy, her robe 'casually' draped to the sides of her legs.

"Do you like what you see, Mrs. Wyatt? Amy? You did say I could call you that," Karen asked, her wicked smile giving the lie to any last illusion of innocence that may have existed.

"P-p-pardon?" I stammered, thrown by a sudden air of inevitability in the room.

"You heard me Amy, do you like looking at my cunt?" she asked, before adding, "You sure seemed to be enjoying it the other day."

I began to stand up but felt her hand on my shoulder. "Don't get up yet, Amy. Take a good look at the cunt your daughter loves to lick."

Hearing her confirm my suspicions about my daughter's recent explorations sent a chill up my back, but I obeyed and remained on my hands and knees, staring at the teen's shaved cunt. It looked so inviting. I couldn't explain it, but suddenly I wanted nothing more than to taste my daughter's friend's cunt. I knew I should stand up and end this silliness right now, but instead I just stared like a teenage boy at his first strip show.

"You want to lick it just like Jenny does, don't you, Amy?" she teased, opening her legs wider.

I didn't say anything, although the fact that I was on my knees in my kitchen and staring at her cunt was probably answering the question already. I tried to resist, to escape, but I couldn't. I was helpless and completely at the whim of this beautiful eighteen-year-old.

"Answer me, slut!" she roared, startling me completely.

Being called a slut should have startled me back to reality. I was definitely not a slut. But instead the harsh derogatory slur had my pussy getting damper. I stammered like a shy fool, "I-I-I-I don't know."

"You don't know? Are you sure?" she teased, sliding a finger inside her cunt. I watched in voyeuristic awe as she pumped that hypnotic finger in and out. After a few seconds she pulled it out and brought it towards my lips.