Neighbors, Friends and Lovers, Chapter 3

by Jackie

Sharon Madsen collected the groceries from the trunk of the family's second car. She was disturbed with herself for getting so caught up in the girls' lessons that she'd put the errand off until this late hour. She'd wanted to return the casserole dishes to her helpful neighbor herself so she could show proper gratitude but she'd delegated it to Sandy because of the time pressure. Thanks to the extra time she'd spent with her youngest on math concepts she'd now have to hustle to have the meal she planned on the table when Victor got home. It was doubly vexing because she wanted the dinner to be special.

Still life was good and she was thinking about how if she had to teach for the Board of Education and work outside the home how much more rushed everything would be. Worse than that Sandra and Melissa would still be exposed to the despicable influences of their peers. Being able to home school them and just be with them all day long was like a gift from God.

She was putting the groceries on the kitchen table when Sandy came in and offered to help. There was something in her oldest daughter's demeanor that gave her pause. Sharon prided herself on being very attuned to her daughters' emotional state and attitudes—there was something different. Not being able to put her finger on it she couldn't formulate a line of questioning. Truth be told she was more in harmony with Missy but she'd never have admitted it.

In a way she thought her first born would always have some special status, but it wasn't the case. With very mixed emotions her mind pondered the conundrum as she prepared dinner.

'It changed shortly after Phil died, ' she recalled.

Missy had been the one who seemed to need her more in those grief stricken days. Tears welled in her eyes as she let the memories flow.

Her life had been demolished without warning. They'd gone to work that morning husband and wife and two lovely daughters and by night fall she was a widow; all her hopes and dreams shattered in the blink of an eye.

'If it hadn't been for Rosemary I don't think I would have made it... and then where would the girls be?' she wiped the tear that trickled down her cheek.

Rosemary Chaplin, the girl's baby sitter, was a few years older than her. The slightly overweight full figured woman had a teenaged daughter of her own and was also a widow. Rosie always said that the loss of her husband was so much easier than what Sharon had to go through.

"We knew for almost two years that his cancer was terminal. We had time to come to grips and say goodbye," the older woman explained her reasoning.

Their relationship had been friendly but superficial before the tragedy. After Phil died, as a grieving widow, she'd reached out to her girls' caregiver for support—reaching desperately for anything to cling to—trying to keep from drowning in the stress of suddenly being a single parent while still not over the loss of her mate.

Rosie's daughter Kristen was no less important. The fifteen year old volunteered to baby-sit her girls, allowing Sharon more time to commiserate with the woman that she'd come to confide in and think of like an older sister.

It wasn't just emotional support either. Rosie was a very physical person by nature. Sharon recalled many evenings weeping into her large bosom while they sat on the couch together. The physical part of their relationship was unfamiliar. Sharon's own mother had been quite the opposite and avoided hugging. She had always wished her relationship with her mom had provided more physical closeness and now she had an older friend who was not averse to it.

As a matter of fact Rosie encouraged the closeness. Sharon would arrive from school to pick up the girls to find that her babysitter had already given them dinner and sent them home, which was just down the street, with Kristen.

She served her tea and the most unique tasting cookies; persuaded Sharon to get comfortable. At first that was just taking her pantyhose off but after a couple of weeks Rosie convinced the widowed teacher to get right out of her working clothes altogether and put on a wonderful feeling silk dressing gown.

By the time she'd finished the tea and cookies Sharon felt like she was in a different world; one without the stress and the grief, one with warm loving comfort. Rosie kept dinner hot while they cuddled on the sofa often for an hour or more.

Sharon recalled that Rosie wore a similar robe for their before dinner sessions and was shocked the first time they hugged like that to discover that her babysitter did not seem to be wearing anything under the thin gown. When she mentioned it Rosie said she loved the way the silk felt on her skin and that Sharon should try it. The next day the teacher removed her underwear for the first time in preparation for the support session. When they'd hugged on the couch that evening with only two thin layers of material separating them Sharon experienced a thrill that she was afraid to examine.

It might have gone further, Sharon on some level wished that it had but on another was fearful of what her relationship with Rosie might become. Memories of Alice and that day in her college dorm tried to surface. The scandal made the consideration moot.

Sharon never knew and never wanted to know the exact details. Rosie told her that there had been allegations about Kristen, her daughter, and one of her teachers. Her babysitter and confidant said that she'd have to move because Kristen would not be able to go back to the high school and endure the endless taunting of classmates. Her reputation was irreparably damaged. Rosie promised to get in touch when they settled in their new location—it never happened.

For weeks flowing into months Sharon waited for a call or a letter. She was upset at the loss of her support but in fact replacing the older woman as a babysitter proved to be the larger challenge. She was amazed, when she finally had time to think about it, that the conversations and support had gotten her over the hump; she was going to be OK on her own.

It was around then, around the time that Rosie and Kristen had left, that her youngest daughter had become physically needy. The six year old couldn't seem to make it through the night anymore. With disturbing regularity she climbed into her mother's bed wanting to cuddle. Sharon never turned her daughter away as her mother had done to her. Instead she tried to get her rest while the girl pressed into her often squirming and fussing. Melissa had an uncanny knack for winding up with her mouth pressed into one of her mother's breasts. The youngster's hot steamy breath through the nightdress made her nipples tingle and that invariably resulted in sensations rising from between her legs. It wasn't sexual she'd convinced herself; it was just as her mother had told her,

'A woman's sexual gratification comes from the bearing and nurturing of children.'

This was just a logical extension of that satisfaction. Snuggling with her daughter had a pleasurable feel to it. Sharon did have some reservations about how the gratification manifested in terms of physical sensations and it wasn't satisfaction at all if she allowed herself to think about it. The feelings that were raised were nearly the polar opposite.

The middle of the night visits seemed in a strange unexplainable way to replace the comfort sessions with Rosemary and drew her closer to her youngest. That's how the favoritism Sharon was constantly on guard against started in the first place.

Victor came in at five-thirty as was his habit and went to his study after kissing her dutifully on the cheek. She informed him that dinner would be on the table at six exactly as normal. Sharon was proud of herself for making up the lost time.

With the meals all served up Sharon was the last to sit down as usual.

"You know who I was thinking about today?" she asked looking at her daughters. "Missus Chaplin and her daughter Kristen," she answered her own question.

"Do you remember them?"

Both girls nodded with their mouths full. Sharon thought the look on Melissa's face was strange but didn't comment on it.

"It's hard to believe that was eight years ago," Missus Madsen commented taking her first mouthful.

Melissa knew with absolute certainty that she would never forget Kristen. Her babysitter's daughter had introduced her, as a child, to feelings that she wouldn't understand until years later. Kristen always paid much more attention to her than to her older sister, which Missy hadn't realized was odd at the time. It made her feel special and since Sandy was the one who normally got more attention it was a nice change.

Nothing had happened at the babysitter's house in the time before her daddy died. But when Kristen started taking them home before their mom came she'd take Missy up to her room and play games with her while Sandy went her own way. Kristen liked games where they took all their clothes off and touched each other. Missy recalled not caring for the games too much. They made her feel kind of funny. It wasn't a bad feeling and she did associate it with that feeling of being special—of being the chosen one.

Later she tried to get her sister interested in the games. For the first while Sandy sort of played along and then she didn't want to do it anymore. Melissa tried to get her mother interested in playing but she didn't seem to know how. As she got older the funny feelings got stronger and she started to really like how it made her feel. That's when she began to understand why her fifteen year old babysitter liked to play them.

Sandra remembered Missus Chaplin and Kristen too. She remembered how nervous and cranky her mother was a lot of the time after daddy died. When she came home after spending time with Missus Chaplin she was always so much more relaxed and happy. The bonus was Kristen always took Missy to her room to play. Sandy was glad to have the six year old occupied. She loved her sister but she was a pest at times.

One incident that happened the second time Kristen took them home stuck in her mind. Melissa and Kristen were in the bathroom and hadn't locked the door; Sandra walked in on them. Missy was sitting up on the bathroom counter and their babysitter was peering between her legs, and she was even pulling her sister open. The teenager explained that Missy was having trouble peeing and she was just checking to see if she had an infection. Sandy remembered thinking that it was odd at the time but quickly put it out of her mind.

When the after dinner clean up was done the girls were free to entertain themselves until bedtime. Their step-father always went to his study to make phone calls. Evening was the best time to contact clients both existing and new. Their mother usually read, worked on lesson plans, or reviewed her daughters' assignments. There were no computers and no TV in the Madsen household. There was an extensive library of carefully chosen books and the girls were expected to spend some of their free time reading.

Melissa was lying on her bed pretending to read a Dickens classic when Sandy walked in and closed the door. In fact the younger girl had been reliving her faded and somewhat sketchy memories of Kristen and her educational games. Sandra paused just inside the door considering what she was about to do.

Missy had on one of the dresses their mother made for them. They each had four in different colors, but the styles were all the same. Propped up on the pillows Missus Madsen's youngest daughter had her knees drawn up and was waggling her legs open and closed because it felt good and added an extra dimension to her reverie.

Sandra watched as the white cotton covered girlhood appeared and disappeared with the opening and closing of her sister's legs.

'I shouldn't do this!'

All of her upbringing demanded that she go back to her room; keep her experience at the neighbor's place a secret. She and Missy shared things before that were not according to the strict code that her mother instilled in them and this was just too good not to share.

Her reservations were dissolved by the flashes of white and the newly acquired knowledge of the enormous joy found there.

Sitting on the side of Melissa's bed she was deprived of the stimulating view but she substituted putting her hand on the inside of the reclined girl's upraised knee. Missy had to stop waggling; otherwise she'd have been bumping her sister with each outward movement.

"I wanted to tell you about our neighbor... ya know when I took her dishes back," Sandra began.

"Uh-huh," the fourteen year old responded signifying that she was listening.

"Did you know that she was a professional photographer?" Melissa shook her head in the negative and realized that Sandy's hand on the inside of her knee was moving slightly.

"She showed me her studio... and some of the clothes that she takes pictures of."

Missy waited for the story to continue, trying to ignore the distraction of the older girl's hand which was now traveling three or four inches back and forth in slow rhythmic strokes.

"She even let me try one on!" Sandy related exuberantly, increasing the length of her stroke in concert with her rising excitement.

"Really," Missy responded incredulously, "you put on a real dress... uh like from a dress store."

"Yeah it was even better than that 'cause it was a new fashion and really um... uh sexy," the older girl confided with no control over her physiological responses to the revelation. She blushed and felt it getting warm between her legs.

The use of the forbidden word 'sexy' made the reclined girl blush too. She felt her nipples tighten and she knew that they'd turned into those hard pink raisins that she so enjoyed tweaking when she was alone. As usual that was accompanied by a warm rumbling feeling deep down in her tummy. Missy realized at the same time that Sandy's hand was now traveling over halfway down her thigh—halfway from her knee to her—.

Sandra adjusted her position on the edge of the bed. The move was mainly to allow her to get some pressure on her girlhood; the need had never been so intense until earlier that afternoon. Now that she knew where that sensation could lead she wanted more—needed more.

"I even had to take my underwear off 'cause it wouldn't look right under the dress," Sandy related provocatively.

Melissa gasped and her eyes went extremely wide.

"Did she... did she see you... with, uh without your clothes on?" Sandy nodded sliding her hand even further down the silky column.

At her bottom of the slow up and down caress she could actually feel the heat from her sister's sex radiating.

Missy was thinking about her sister being naked in front of the woman next door but when she visualized it, it was her completely exposed to the stranger. Her vaginal muscles clenched and sent out warm ripples like a stone thrown into a mill pond. She prayed that her sister would slip and actually touch her over heated cookie. The reclining girl spread her legs a little wider.

The movement of Melissa's leg did not go unnoticed. Sandy glanced down at the white cotton stretched to its limit over her sister's pubescent vulva. The cloth was so thin and tight that she could see the extent of Missy's hair growth which didn't yet form the full triangle like hers. Evidence that her crease was slightly parted was also plain and she detected a bit of discoloration right in the middle.

'She's starting to leak, ' the older girl concluded, now knowing that it was a sign of arousal—as if she needed anymore evidence.

Her sister's face was flushed all the way down her neck and onto her chest (what Sandra could see of it). Her breathing was short and rapid; eyes wide with wonderment—and then there was the scent. The aroma she'd detected during those abbreviated sessions in the washroom after cuddling. The same one she'd smelled but so much fuller and stronger in Carolyn's studio that afternoon.

The throb between her legs was getting stronger and deeper. She was now able to recognize the focal point as the achy feeling swelling at the top of her crease.

'That's where she licked to make me... make me cum, ' she knew the slang term for the phenomenon without knowing the official term. School yard sex-ed had its limitations.

She wanted to give her little sister the same experience, never once considering the possibility that the younger girl might have been there before.

"Ya know what she did then?" Sandra managed to croak.

Missy shook her head back and forth slowly against the pillows supporting her; realizing that there was more to the incredibly erotic story made her dizzy.

"She put her mouth on me."

Sandy's statement was a barely audible whisper. It might have been to avoid the revelation from being overheard, but it was actually a result of the sixteen year old's lack of breath.

Melissa turned the words over in her mind. It was like a pinball bouncing off all the possible meanings. One of the possibilities nearly made her faint.

'That can't be it... that can't be what she means, ' her analytical brain rejected the theory but she had to know.

"You don't mean on your... your—" Sandra was nodding and smiling broadly.

As if to throw gasoline on the fire her sister's hand was now on her groin, on the elastic of the leg hole, and inch maybe two from throbbing aching need centered between her legs.

The pelvic thrust and deep groan was completely involuntary but resulted in the side of Sandy's hand coming in contact with her sister's swollen mons. It was Missy's fault that the invisible but crucial barrier was crossed. The older sibling felt the spongy consistency of the hot wet vulva and moved her hand away. Although it was what she wanted, and she had no doubt of her little sister's sexually agitated state, it was still an accident. It wasn't proof that Melissa wanted Sandy to touch her. There was a difference.

The older girl did not fully appreciate the magnitude of the step that they might be about to take but she had an inkling. If she did anything the younger girl didn't really want, or wasn't ready for, there would be dire and irrevocable consequences.

Missy reached out like a cobra strike grabbing her sister's retreating hand and mashing it against her pulsating mons. Pressing the older girl's little hand against her pussy sent intense waves of bliss rocketing all over her. The pressure on that achy sort of hard feeling spot right at the top of her groove caused an intense sensation. She held her sister's hand there and humped it until the feeling finally began to soften and recede.

Sandy knew that she had cum, and marveled at Melissa's restraint in the moment of climax. Her younger sibling grabbed the pillow with her free hand and stuffed it in her mouth to stifle the scream. The vocal outburst would have almost certainly been catastrophic—brought one or both of their parents on the run to investigate.

The amount of moisture in the cotton was ten fold as her moaning sister continued to gnaw on the pillow while grinding her coochie against the hand which she still had in a death grip. Slowly the reclining girl's writhing decreased and she let go of Sandy's hand only to replace it with her own.

Missy gently cupped and held her girlhood while the intensity of the electric discharges waned.

On impulse Sandra brought her formerly entrapped hand to her face. The sweet but slightly pungent fragrance that pervaded the room was much more intense from her hand even though there was only a trace of Missy's secretions there. The urge to taste it didn't occur; it just happened like the automatic next step.

The first lick on the side of her juice coated hand was tentative, like testing an unfamiliar and very hot soup. Sandy was amazed at the head spinning rush that she got. She'd expected it to taste like pee smelled, even though there was no similarity in what her nose was telling her. The mild sweetness came as a shock so she took a much bigger more comprehensive lick at her sister's nectar. Getting the pussy juice further back on her tongue filled in the missing components of the flavor and she was hooked. She would later think that it probably looked pretty funny; her sitting on the edge of Melissa's bed lapping at her hand like a kitten.

"How do I taste?" Missy sighed.

Sandra paused her hand cleaning long enough to mumble, "Wonderful."

Melissa was in motion. She raised her hips and stripped her sodden underpants off, bringing the saturated cotton crotch to her face. She too was expecting the smell of urine, and so was surprised by the very pleasant aroma that filled her olfactory. The sheltered youngster had no experience with inhaling intoxicants and was only aware of the vice in the vaguest of terms. She would have been stunned to know how similar the head rush was.

She licked the inside of the crotch panel and was quite surprised to find that there was thick slippery juice deposited there. Up until that very moment the idea of tasting anything that came from between her legs would have been repugnant. Not only was she not repelled but she was driven to clean the panties with her tongue collecting as much of the sweet mildly tangy juice as she could.

When she thought she'd exhausted the supply she said, "You're right... I am delicious," and then she giggled as only a teenager can.

For a moment Sandra watched Melissa tasting herself but her eyes were irresistibly drawn to the younger girl's fully exposed vulva. It was similar to her own she thought (what little she'd been able to see between her own legs) but quite different than Carolyn's mature womanhood, which was the only female genitalia she'd ever had a good look at.

Missy's mound was bright pink—flushed and swollen looking. The fine corn silk barely visible hair was wet and plastered to her outer lips. The inner lips were spread in a sort of pout and resembled a butterfly. The butterfly's body, above the open wings, was a plump lighter pink cone shape. At the lower larger end of the cone was a pearly looking nub the size of a baby pea.

'That's it, ' Sandy recognized, 'that's where all those unbelievable feelings come from.'

Her sister's vulva glistened with moisture in the waning daylight from the window. The urge to taste the ambrosia that she'd had only the scantest sample of from its source was powerful.

When Melissa spoke she looked into the post orgasmic girl's eyes briefly and then returned her attention to the forbidden spectacle. That night as she drifted off into blissful sleep she would marvel at her restraint. She wanted so badly to dive on the delectable girlhood but prudence—the fear of irreparable damage from going too fast—held her back.

Missy was very conscious of where her sister's gaze was fixed. It was as though her sibling's eyes were emitting some kind of radiation. Some invisible rays that stimulated her cookie back up to the pulsing throbbing neediness she'd been enduring while Sandy related her experience with the woman next door.

"Would you do that to me," the younger girl asked in a tiny timid voice. "Would you put your mouth on it?"

It took a second or two for her arousal muddled brain to process the request. Her head was swimming in sexual excitement and the words were too good to be true. Everything she'd ever been taught told her it was wrong but her body responded to another, a more primal drive.

Scrambling onto Missy's bed and positioning herself between the fourteen year old's legs, her own pussy was pounding at the accelerating rhythm of her swelling heart. Lifting her sister's legs Sandy was virtually lying on her stomach between those shockingly white thighs. She felt like it was slow motion and so did Melissa but in fact it was quite rapid.

The first contact of the older girl's tongue caused a feeling so intense that Missy tried to scramble up the bed. Sandy was lost in the moment and pursued her retreating prize. Pushing with all her strength against her bed Melissa couldn't escape. The sensation was so powerful that the younger girl felt her consciousness deserting her. The pleasure was so unimaginable that when her sister sucked her aching clit into her mouth Missy would later think that it was how she imagined being struck by lightning would feel.

For an instant everything did go black as her brain was unable to deal with it. When she came back to earth her body was jerking and shuddering as if all of her muscles were receiving a steady stream of conflicting commands. There was no telling how long it lasted. It seemed to go on and on but in reality it was fifteen or twenty seconds—fifteen or twenty life altering seconds.

Sandra didn't know enough to stop. She was enjoying the slippery mushy feel of Missy's superheated pussy on her lips and tongue and nose. The taste was delicate and sweet—she couldn't get enough. An amazing question occurred to her,

'Which is better licking or being licked?'

She had no answer just that of all the things there were to do in the world, those two had taken over positions one and two in her desires. Missy couldn't take anymore and entwined her fingers in Sandy's straight silky blonde hair, pulling her sister's face away from her over sensitive coochie.

Sandy looked up in dejected puzzlement.

"Wait... wait... give me a minute," Melissa sighed still restraining the girl between her legs by the hair.

Sandra had been so completely absorbed in her first cunnilingus-giving experience that she lost track of her own arousal. Deprived of the oral stimulation the throbbing in her girlhood hijacked her brain. Suddenly her pussy replaced Missy's as the most important thing on the planet.

The novice cunt-licker got herself into a sitting position at the foot of the bed and yanked off her underpants with such urgent force that she ripped them. She was barely aware of the damage because seconds later her fingers were searching through her sloppy slippery folds seeking that fabulous pleasure giving nubbin.

Pressing firmly on the gristly bump her fingers moved instinctively. Her arousal had settled into a sort of stasis but as soon as her fingers started stimulating her clit she was climbing again—rising toward that precipice where the intensity of sensation would send her off the edge and into another world.

Her nipples had been burning and itching. Sandy grabbed her tit through the homemade dress and matronly bra squeezing hard. An additional bolt of pleasure hit her and her whole body jerked in response.

At the other end of the bed Melissa was regaining the ability to think and see. When her misty, foggy vision allowed her to see what her sister was doing the younger girl's pussy reacted as though it had been slapped. Missy shuddered from the expected impact.

The sensual smell of excited pussy hung in the air. Melissa recalled the delightful cream she'd licked off her own underwear and wondered if Sandy's tasted different.

Twisting around she was on her knees and elbows inhaling her older sister's fragrance and watching the fingers strumming rapidly over the bean sized button at the top of the flowing gash. The next moment she had her tongue buried as far as it would go into the flooded channel.

Sandra squealed at the unexpected invasion and felt her sister's nose and upper lip pressing on the backs of her fingers. She had been alternately squeezing each of her breasts with her left hand. Now she abandoned her girlhood to work on her boobs with both hands, leaving the pussy pleasuring to her younger sibling.

It wasn't long before the cliff was looming. She was riding on a giant wave that surged up from her core and flung her over the edge. She grabbed the back of Missy's head and mashed the fourteen year old's face into her spasming vulva.

She still had her fingers entwined in Missy's hair when the spasms subsided to aftershocks. Twitching and moaning she opened her eyes to see the younger girl kneeling in front of her smiling. For the next several moments they maintained their positions smiling at each other.

Melissa spoke first.

"Oh my God that was so unbelievably wonderful!" she sighed.

"Yeah," was all Sandy could croak in response.

The younger girl lay down beside her sister and cuddled into her. Heads toward the foot of the bed they dozed. Fortunately they did not fall completely asleep or they might have not heard their step-dad's announcement.

"Ten minutes until lights out girls," he called from the foot of the stairs.

Dragging herself back to the here and now it was Sandra who managed to respond, averting a potentially very embarrassing visit.

Extricating herself from Missy's embrace Sandy stood up, straightened her dress and collected her torn underwear.

"Missus Rousseau... uh, Carolyn said you could come over and see the studio some time," the older girl informed her sister as she headed for the door.

Missy flipped over onto her stomach to face her departing sister.

"Could we go tomorrow?" she asked excitedly.

"We'll have to see what Mom says," Sandy replied as she left.

In their separate rooms both girls made similar unfortunate discoveries. Each of their dresses had absorbed a quantity of the copious fluids that had been secreted. The damp stain on the backs of the skirts couldn't be helped now, but they each resolved to get undressed completely the next time.

Melissa enjoyed the most peaceful sleep she could ever remember. All the vague memories and feelings made sense now.

Sandra was quite the opposite. She felt remorse for what she had done. She was the eldest, supposed to set and example to help guide her little sister not take her in a completely forbidden direction.

They'd go and see Missus Rousseau, if not tomorrow, then soon. There was no going back on that now that she'd suggested it. Whatever happened there was mostly out of her control anyway. The conflict between the newly discovered sexual ecstasy and the moral code she'd been taught made her sleep fitful.

About half of her was thrilled and excited by the possibilities while the other half screamed NO!