The Seduction of Lindsay Lane

"Of course. I'll show you."

"You don't have to, I know the way."

"I want to." I think this is my last chance. Upstairs is good.

I'm on the stairs in front of her, knowing that as she follows me up she can't help but see my lack of underwear. I take the stairs slowly, putting a wiggle into my movement as I ascend and wonder if she is looking up my dress. I'm sure she is, she can't help to. When I reach the top step I turn quickly and catch her gaze glued to my arse. She looks away, embarrassed to be caught out.

"This is Cathy's room," I say.

"I know."

She goes in and I stand by the door and watch. She opens my daughter's wardrobe and works her way along the clothes until she has what she's looking for. "Here it is," she says, holding up a smock top for me to see. "Do you like it?"

"It's nice."

"It's my favorite. I couldn't leave it behind."

I see her looking round the room. She has a wistful look about her, as if she's saying goodbye to Cathy herself. "I've always loved coming over here, Mrs. Bradley. Cathy's room is nice. Your entire house is so beautiful. You have taste. Not like Mummy, her taste in decor is so cheesy."

"Ah, thank you Lindsay, how nice of you to say so. We like it. You've never seen my room though, have you? It's my favorite part of the entire house. Would you like a look before you go?"

"Okay then."

"It's this way." I take her hand and lead her to my sanctuary.

When I open the door we find the room bathed in summer sunlight, the afternoon heat that's accumulated there envelops us. I leave Lindsay on the threshold and go to open the sash windows, to let in cooling air. Outside I hear a gentle breeze moving through our one Beech Tree. While I busy myself she tells me how much she likes the room. I return to her and take both of her hands in mine and walk backwards, drawing her further into my lair. My eyes are fixed on hers and I see she is near capitulating to me.

When we are face to face near the bed I say, "You've become an extremely attractive young woman, Lindsay. Did you know that?"

"Guys tell me so, but it sounds nicer you saying it."

"You are. One of the sexiest young girls I have ever seen. I want to touch you. To see if you feel as nice as you look. Would you mind so much if I did?"

"It depends." She cast her gaze down and asks, ""Where?"

"What if I touch you here? "I reach down, placing my right hand on her leg just above the knee, then I'm lifting her skirt and stroking the inside of her thigh. I've never felt skin so smooth. My cunt starts to moisten, inside me something is churning.

"There is nice," Lindsay says.

"And here?" I say, my hand now between her legs rubbing the crotch of her panties.

She becomes silent and has closed her eyes. She spreads her legs nicely apart for me, her toes pointing inwards, arms dangling limp by her side. I run the fingers of my other hand through her hair; it's so fine that I feel I could blow it all away with one puff. My right hand continues to massage between her legs. I want to kiss those swollen lips of hers but I'm rationing myself, savoring every moment of her teenage deliciousness.

She starts to twist under my touch, I'm not sure if she's excited or agitated. I ask, "Do you want me stop?"

"Uh-uh," Says Lindsay, and shakes her head from side to side.

"You like it don't you, Lindsay? Is this what you wanted from Cathy?"

"For so long."

"Tell me what you would have done with Cathy last night, if she'd let you."

I hear her mumble something. I tell her, "I can't hear you, come closer.... In my ear." I pull her to me. She's limp and seems near to fainting. I support her at the shoulders with one hand as I continue to work between her legs with the other. "Tell me again." Her breath is hot against my cheek.

She breathes her words into my ear, telling me, "I'd hold her and kiss her with my tongue lick he pussy and suck her tits. Oh god, I really want her, but she won't. She won't."

My lips brush her ear while I tell her, "Lindsay Lane, does your mother know what a dirty sweet little lesbo-tramp you are?" I kiss her neck below her ear, and then I bite her neck gently.

"Uh-Uh." She mutters while I savor her flesh. "She mustn't know, please don't tell her. You won't, will you?"

In my mind I imagine Tricia Lane on the chair in the corner, bound and gagged and forced to watch me seducing her daughter.

"I'm not taking advantage, am I Lindsay?"

"Uh-uh. I want to." She sighs heavily. "So much."

"Good, I'm glad. I'm going to show you things you have not even imagined. First, I want you to take off all your clothes."

"You do it," Lindsay whispers.

"No, I want to watch you undress yourself." I move away and sit down on the edge of the bed.

My eyes maraud her body as she undresses. First, she reaches round to undo her skirt and allows it to drop around her ankles, then pulls her top over her head and lets it fall too. Her hair is a mess; she brushes wayward strands from her face. All this she does as if in a dream.

"And the rest."

She wriggles out of her panties, loosens her bras and allows it to fall away; finally she kicks off her jazz-softs. Naked, she stands self-consciously looking at the assorted garments at her feet. I feel my heart pounding: I realize how young she is and that she's naked just for me. I think of all the gorgeous women I've made love to in the past and how not one of them can compare to the bloom of Lindsay's young beauty. Her skin is unflawed, perfectly smooth; it radiates youth and life. Gravity has yet to get the better of her breasts, they are poised and slightly upturned, her nipples, small, pink and fresh. Stunned by her perfection my head is somersaulting. I sit and stare, gloating on what I've achieved in the half-hour since she rang my doorbell. I think of her mother at home, probably in the garden attending to the herbaceous borders, having no idea her teenage daughter is standing naked before me about to be ravished.

"Are you nervous, Lindsay?"

"No, excited. I've never...felt like this before. I so want you."

I stand and go to her. I arrange her disheveled hair, as if she were my doll. "Look what a mess you've made of yourself," I say.

I fetch a brush from my dresser and run it through the downy flyaway strands. I want to touch her all over but am pacing myself. This has to last. I intend to have every inch of her, I will be thorough, no part of her will escape my attention. As I brush, she purrs pussycat quiet.

When I've done brushing, I tell her to stay exactly as she is. Her back is to me as I return the brush to its place on the dresser. Then with one easy movement I unzip the back of my dress and let it slide down. I look back at the girl and she's still where I left her. "Lindsay," I call. She turns and I can tell she is taken aback to see me naked. "Do you like my breasts? Come here and touch them if you like. Do you want to?" I run the back of my knuckles over my nipples while awaiting her answer. She says nothing but walks over to me. She is apprehensive about touching them. She seems to prepare herself before taking them both in her palms, fingers splaying upwards.

"They're so big, and heavy. They're wicked."

My voice is hoarse, almost a whisper. "I'm glad you like them. You can taste them if you like. Go on, suck them hard."

And she does, like a starving thing. She licks and sucks one after the other, then presses her face into my cleavage, moving her head from side to side. Her slobber makes them slippery. I imagine she's feeding from me, that she now belongs to me, is mine to do with whatever I wish. I rest my cheek against the top of her head and softly kiss her hair, while below she is lost and feverish between my tits. She is causing such gorgeous waves of pleasure to wash through me; a delicious yearning gnaws in my guts. My cunt's gagging for attention.

"See how nice that was; for you and for me."

I pull her up from my breasts and look into her eyes. They're filled with excitement and lust. She's on fire. I think it marvelous to see a young girl so aroused. I decide I've waited long enough; it's time to taste her outrageous lips. First I lick them gently, worming my tongue between them, drawing it from corner to corner. They're plump and spongy, I want to bite down, and so I give a tight nibble to the bottom one. Her breath is sweet gum scented. I wrap her in my arms and press her to me hard and we become lost to each other in our kissing.

She's so young, sweet and fresh that I think of something I have never done before, something I have only ever seen the girls in porn do. I've never rimmed or been rimmed. I decide Lindsay looks and smell so pure and untainted she would taste good even there.

I whisper, "Lindsay, you smell lovely and clean. Are you really clean...everywhere?"

She can hardly talk but manages to ask, "Why?"

"I need to know."

"I showered before."

"Good." We kiss again.

I lead her by the hand to the bed, and indicate where she is to sit. With both hands I take hold of her shoulders, guiding and pushing her back and turning her so she is lying on her front. When I've parted her legs I'm immediately down on her, kissing her smooth butt cheeks. I lick all over, every one of her pores oozes freshness and life. Eventually I run my tongue the length of her crack. The softness of her skins still amazes me. I begin to nuzzle my face into her, my tongue licking her back hole. She wriggles and gasps, "Oh. Oh...what are you doing? You mustn't. Oh...my... god. Mrs. Bradley, please! But she doesn't tell me to stop.

My tongue is flickering over her tiny dark hole. I burrow and lick. The tip wants to penetrate her, and I feel the pucker beneath it. It is so tight; nothing has made the journey in this direction before. I feel her give way to my pressure, but anatomy prevents deeper exploration, so I circumscribe her, my saliva filling her tiny crater. Then I jab continually at her.

It's hard to contain my excitement; I think my head might explode with desire. She starts to writhe, then giggle, then moans, then giggles again, and wriggles some more. My arms are under her belly, seeking her clit from the front. I continue to lick her arse while I have both hands under her; I finger her cunt and rub her clit. She's shaken by a rocking orgasm and squeals out loud. I feel pleased with myself, but beneath my smugness my own need for her attention rages.

While she regains her composure I rest my head on her most curvaceous buttocks. With my finger I touch where my tongue has been and feel my saliva sticky in her crack, I insert my index finger and gently massage her. After, I turn her over carefully gauging her reaction.

"I can't believe... I've just let you...." She searches for words. "do what you did." She's finding it difficult to speak."

"Was it nice?"

"Oh yes. No one never even tried that before. Thank you." She indicates she wants to be kissed, and I oblige. She has lost all traces of self-consciousness; she kisses with abandon, no longer unsure.

"I have more for you, Lindsay." I reach into my draw and retrieve the large strap-on dildo I placed there earlier. "Put this on," I tell her.

"Wow! Let me feel it. I've never touched one before, only seen pictures. How does it go on?"

"I'll show you."

I help her into the contraption. She kneels on the bed while I adjust it to fit her. Its texture is quite realistic. When it's on it protrudes blatantly from her groin.

I tell her, "Now, there's a knack to these things. Take it slowly at firsts, until you get the feel of what it can do. You'll soon see."

I lie back and spread my legs ever so wide.

She touches the dildo, but before she can insert it into me she burst into giggles. I mock scold her "Lindsay, please. This is serious."

"Sorry." She tries to keep a straight face but can't help herself and laughs even louder. "I'm sorry, it looks so silly."

"Don't look. Close your eyes and come here." She does and I guide her to me. She is smiling broadly with eyes tight closed.

Soon she has found her rhythm and is fucking me like a young stud. I marvel at her pelvic thrusts, she has energy and skill. She goes on and on, is breathing fast but shows no sign of wavering. No other woman who's ever used a strap-on with me has shown such athletic prowess. Then I remember Lindsay swims competitively, she's an athlete, and it shows. I moan to let her know I appreciate her energy, occasionally she's far too vigorous and hurts me and I cry out.

I can't cum just by penetration, I have to have attention to my clit. I indicate that I wish her to leave off the fucking me. She's reluctant to dismount, but does. I tell her to lick me.

With the dildo still attached, she's down between my legs. I guide her head with my hands, giving subtle pressure and adjustments to let her know when she has it just right. When she seems to know what she's doing I allow her free reign. She works my clit beautifully; I can feel her chin pressing into my sloppy opening. I try to hold off, but she is too much for me and I shudder violently and cum hard pressing myself in her face.

I'm up by her side again, holding her in my arms. I feel protective now: she's such a lovely little thing. I stroke her hair and peck at her cheeks.

"Did you know this would happen," she asks. "Did you plan it?"

"I thought it might. I hoped it would."

"How long have you wanted to make love to me?"

"Since I found out you like girls: Today."

"Really?" She seems genuinely surprised. Even hurt, I imagine.

"Sorry, but yes. I don't make habit of lusting after my daughter's friends. Does it bother you?"

"I've had a crush on you since forever. I thought you might have felt some interest in me."

"You were too young...and surely I would seem like an old boot to you?"

"You would never seem old to me. You're so sophisticated and I love how tall and elegant you are, how composed you always seem. The clothes and makeup you wear. You're so beautiful and confident, you know who you are."

"Really? Since before today?" I sit up and look at her, to gauge her, to make sure she isn't being facetious."

"Yes, really." She sits up too and looks in my eyes with need and tenderness. I kiss her with love.

We come apart and she says, "Could I have a drink please?"

I open my bedside cabinet and take out one of the bottles of spring water I keep there.

"Here." I hand it to her.

"Thanks."

"Last night, when I was drunk, I confessed to Cathy that I'd got a crush on you."

"You what?" Now I'm the one taken by surprise. "What did she say?"

"She already knew that I thought you were gorgeous, but she didn't know just how much I was obsessed with you. She was sweet about it and said she'd arrange something for me. She told me you were into women too."

"The fuck she did. She doesn't know anything about my sexuality."

"She does, has known for years. Last night she told me all about you. She knows about that Mandy woman in Cornwall." She teases, "Mrs. Bradley, you really should log off properly when you've used the family PC to check your emails."

Something collapses inside me.

She continues, "So when Cathy rings me at lunch time today and says if I come over here this afternoon I might have a pleasant surprise, well, I thought I'd come over and see what she'd arranged. She wouldn't say what she'd come up with though. "She's so wicked, that daughter of yours, Mrs. Bradley. You must be proud."

Now it's me asking, "Oh god, what does Cathy think of me?"

"You're her Mum. She loves you. Being bi is no big deal. Most girls are these days. Even Cathy has dabbled."

I say, "God, Lindsay Lane, you're a bloody good little actress."

We laugh, fall back and make love again and loose ourselves to each other. We are slow and gentle now. It's in a different way now that I'm making love to her, as a person, not just a bundle of cute flesh. I realize you don't have to be older to be a strong sassy female. She's exactly the kind I've always gone for: intelligent and feisty, knows exactly what she wants and not afraid to go for it. All in a gorgeous girlie, butter-wouldn't melt, package.

We made love on three more occasions before she went off to university, in the fall. Last week I was suprised to receive an email from her promising a visit when she's home at Christmas.

"What about Cathy," I hear you ask? Well, it took me a while to come to terms with it all. I was dreading seeing her that evening, but she didn't say anything to embarrass me. Just like her mum, she's discreet. It was as if nothing had happened. She never mentioned my sexuality or Lindsay. We carry on being mum and daughter.

And Tricia Lane? Well, who has the last laugh now? Now, when I see her, I go to that place inside myself where I can relive the time I had my face buried between her daughter's peach buttock cheeks. Revenge is sweet, and very much best served cold.