Mom Loves Not Her Daughters - Sex Stories

Mom Loves Not Her Daughters

... and thoughts flashing across her face before she said, "Wear your panties and bra tonight. Okay?" "Well. Yeah, okay." "And maybe later, I'll let you try on my nightgown." She blushed all over. Then she reached for the top button of my blouse. * * * Though I thought of myself as older and more knowledgeable and more worldly and a lot of other things, now I found myself with my head on her upper arm, her left leg between mine as I lay here on my side watching her smooth breathing in the semi-darkness. She hadn't let me do more than watch as she took my blouse off then unzipped my skirt. She pushed me backward onto my own bed before turning off the light. "Kick your shoes off," she had demanded before she climbed into bed with me. She was taking a great deal of pleasure in this, I thought at the time. "You guys went out without any more than just saying you were leaving. That was really bitchy of you. Really, I should spank you for that. Both of you." But she was talking really quiet, obviously so mom wouldn't hear us. She sounded like mom might have about a week ago. "I'm sorry, Amy. I really didn't think and I'm sure mom didn't either." "Worse. You left me here on my own, expecting you two to come back about any minute and catch me doing something wrong. And look at you!" I grinned at her. "I mean look! I'm here worrying about getting caught looking at mom's clothes and you're out wearing them. And mom's all dressed up like for a school prom or something." "I really am sorry, ...

... Amy. If I'd thought you were ready --" "Oh, bullshit," she said plainly. "You never even gave me a thought in passing." "Well, maybe --" "Maybe nothing. You were just thinking of yourselves. And you should be ashamed." I was actually starting to feel that way. "Now. The important thing is, you're here now. And you have to tell me everything that went on tonight. Everything. Is that understood?" I certainly didn't think when I started that I was going to tell her about Lois or Michelle or changing panties or even having several orgasms. Most of all, I wasn't going to tell her about dad. But, in about an hour, I'd told her everything while she leaned on one elbow and looked down at me as I lay there on my back in my bra, panties, garter belt, and nylons; my hair a blond wig and my face painted as a most provocative female. Given the rest of the evening, I guess this shouldn't have been too unusual. But what was unusual was that soon after I started telling her the stories of the evening, she started caressing my cheek. When I'd come to an embarrassing part, she'd kiss me on the cheek and hug me. When I'd tell her about my breasts rubbing into one of my dance partners, she caressed my breasts. When I told her about someone playing with me, she touched between my legs. When I told her about licking Michelle, she moved my hand between her own legs. Obviously, the effect of this was that after a little while, I again wet down my borrowed panties with come. She had proceeded to tell ...