0 comments/ 243025 views/ 30 favorites Her Mother's Date By: Littlemissblair Gloria was happy to be home. She just finished her second year of college and was home for the summer. Her mother Janet could use the company. Gloria's dad, Janet's husband, left Janet 3 years ago for another woman. Janet had a hard time getting over it. Gloria had another problem she had to face. How to tell her mother she was gay. She tried to tell her last summer when she was home but always backed out at the last minute. This summer she vowed she would tell her. Janet came into the kitchen. "Want to go shopping today, Gloria?" she asked. "We have a new mall now. We can shop till we drop." "OK mom, sounds like fun. By the way, did you take my advice and start dating? Dad's been gone 2 years now. You got to get along with your life." "Don't start that again, Gloria. I'm doing fine." "In other words your not dating," Gloria said. "Look at you. 38 years old, a body to die for, and your setting home letting the world pass you by. OK, I won't bring it up again, but I wish you would get out and enjoy yourself." "And that's just what were going to do," Janet laughed. "We're going shopping." As they were driving to the mall her mother asked Gloria how her social life was going. "The boys at college must be hounding you to death," she said. "Look at you. You're so beautiful. I know how horny those college boys can get. You must be driving them crazy." Well I can see this isn't going to be easy to tell her I'm gay, she thought. Nothing is ever easy I guess. That night while laying in bed Gloria's thoughts turned to her mother again. I wonder if she masturbates. I wonder if she's masturbating right now. Gloria thought of her mother laying in bed fingering herself. Gloria lowered her hand down to her pussy and caressed her clit. She was picturing her mother fingering herself and it was getting her hot. Her fingers were moving more rapidly. Oh god, I'm fingering myself thinking about my mother. She was past the stopping point. Her fingers were now slipping into her wet pussy. Faster and faster, picturing her mother in rhythm with her. She felt her orgasm swell up in her. Her hips were bucking the air. "Aghhhhhhh," she groaned out loudly. She hoped her mother didn't hear her in the bedroom next to hers. She had just cum with the most wicked fantasy she could imagine. The next morning Gloria had made a decision. She told her mom she had to run an errand and was going to use the car. She drove downtown to a suit rental agency. She inquired about renting a man's tuxedo that would fit her. They assured her they could. After some minor alterations she rented a suit. She went to a men's store and bought a mans hat. That evening she asked her mother if she would like to go out for dinner. "Sure," her mother replied. "Well dress up real nice mother, I told her. The dinner will be on me. Think of it as the date I'm always trying to get you to go on." Her mother laughed. "Ok, we'll make a night of it," she said as she went off to get ready. Gloria went upstairs and put on the tuxedo. She had to pin her long blonde hair up so it would fit under the hat. She looked in the mirror. Not bad, she thought. I'd make a handsome young man. Her mother was in the living room when she came down. "What in the world are you wearing?" her mother asked in amazement. "I told you I was taking you on a date and I thought I should look the part," she replied." Her mother laughed, appreciating the effort her daughter had went to make her point. They returned home about midnight after having a wonderful dinner. They even danced several times as her mother good-naturedly went along with the charade. As they pulled into the driveway and parked the car Janet spoke up. "Would you like to come in for a night cap, sir?" she asked mockingly. "It's the least I can do for showing me a most enjoyable night." "I'd be delighted," I said. They entered the house. Her mother spoke. "Gloria, I had a wonderful time even though it was a little off beat. I'm tired. I'm going to bed." "May I walk you to your door?" I asked, still acting out the charade. I took her by the hand as we walked upstairs. At her bedroom door I paused. "How about a good-night kiss, madam?" She smiled and reached up to kiss me on the cheek. I put my hand behind her head and pulled her lips to mine. I could feel her body stiffen as the kiss became prolonged. She was trying to pull away but I held her tightly. I forced my tongue into her mouth. I heard he moan. Her body relaxed as my tongue invaded her soft, wet mouth. My hands were now cupping her the cheeks of her ass. I pulled her to me as I thrust my hips into her. A long moan came from her as she felt the huge dildo I was wearing. My mouth pulled away. "Lets go to bed mother," as I opened her bedroom door and led her in. I pushed her down on the bed. As she looked up at me I removed my hat and shook my long blonde hair free. I then removed the jacket and shirt freeing my full, round breasts. Then I lowered my pants. Her eyes were now riveted on the 10 inch dildo that hung heavily from my crotch. She began to mew. Ohhhhhhhh. She set up on the edge of the bed. I pulled her lips to the head of the dildo. She instinctively opened her mouth and began licking the head. "It's so big," she cried. "Soooo big." She opened her mouth and took the head into her mouth. I pulled her head firmly as the dick slid into her mouth. It was now to her throat. She tried to take it all. I withdrew the rubber dick and pushed her back on the bed. I lay next to her as my hand slid under her skirt. I found her soaking wet pussy. My fingers were pressing the crease of her pussy lips. She was moaning loudly now. As my fingers slipped under her panties and entered her cunt her whole body shuddered. "Argggggggggggggggggg" she cried. My pussy was soaking. This was the hottest I had ever been in my life. "Mother I'm going to fuck you. I'm going to fuck you in your cunt till you can't cum any more. I'm going to stick this big dick up your ass and make you beg for more." She came. A long drawn out groan emitted from her lips. "Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh." After her orgasm subsided she just lay there. She didn't resist when I removed her blouse, skirt and bra. What beautiful tits, I thought as her heavy mounds fell from her bra. She was moaning. "This is wrong Gloria. So wrong. Please, we have to stop." I lay down next to her and wrapped my lips around her one of her long, thick nipples. I sucked like a baby, pulling it with my teeth and bit her until she winced. I pulled myself on top of her. "No Gloria, we must stop." I felt her spread her legs submissively as I guided the huge dildo into her cunt. Her pussy made a sucking sound as the first 3 inches slipped in. Her hips slowly began to grind. "MMMMMMMMMMMM," she moaned. My thrust were more rapid now. Her rhythm was mine. The dildo forged deeper into her cunt. She now had the full 10 inches buried in her hole. Her hips were humping in abandonment as she groaned and moaned in delirium. I heard her scream. " I'm going to cummmm. ughhhhhh ughhhhh ughhhhhhh. I'm cummiiiiinnnnnnnnnnnnngggg." The pussy juice flowed from her like a river. Gush after gush exploded from her. Here come another orgasm. "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhgggggggggggg." She couldn't get enough. I continued driving the full 10 inches into her aching hole. Then I heard a low guttural sound emitting from her throat. "Guhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh." She was cumming again with such force it was almost primitive. We lay there a long time the dildo still buried in her. She finally spoke. "Did you cum with mommy, little girl?" "Yes mother, I did. Many, many times." "Good," she said. "I'm tired now and want to sleep. Tomorrow you can keep the other half of your promise. You will, won't you?" "Yes mother, I will." Suddenly another orgasm racked my body. The thought of fucking my mother up the ass with this huge rubber cock sent waves of pleasure juice gushing again from my aching, swollen pussy... Her Mother's Daughter A/N: For this story I rely rather heavily on the reader's imagination and willingness to fantasise. I purposely didn't add what I consider unimportant details; I left it to the reader to decide what the house, and yard look like and what the majority of the characters physical attributes are. I do include some physical descriptions just not a lot. If you like a lot of scene setting and lengthy descriptions of body types and eye/hair coloring et cetera, then you probably won't enjoy this story. I'm okay with that. Hopefully there are a few readers who will enjoy it. Letting me know with votes or written feedback would be appreciated. TIA. ~FM :) Ken shook his head and took another swig of beer as he watched his best friend Bruce's, 18 year old daughter climbing out of the pool. He set his beer down and turned to Bruce, "No disrespect, Bruce, but Abby is fucking hot! Hope you got a loaded shotgun, bro!" Bruce fidgeted but laughed good-naturedly, "Anyone but you would be eating a knuckle sandwich for that comment! That's my daughter you're lusting after!" Ken held up his hands placatingly, "Not hungry anyway so thanks for not offering me one! I'm just letting you know; I feel a duty as your best bud because since you're her Dad, you just don't see her the way the rest of us poor sons o' bitches do! I'm tellin' ya Bruce-ter, what I wouldn't give if she just wasn't your little punkin girl!" Bruce slapped a heavy hand on Ken's back as they continued to chuckle, "I consider myself told- now shut the fuck up in favor of seeing your next birthday!" Just then Abby appeared in front of them, dripping pool water as she towelled off, "Hi Daddy. Hi Ken. What's so funny?" Ken winked at her, "My love life! Funniest joke your Dad's heard in a long while! Hey I gotta get going punkin girl. Thanks for the brew Bruce-ter, gimme a call this weekend we'll go cruisin' chicks!" Bruce grinned and waved his friend off. Abby took Ken's vacated seat and then handed a bottle of sunscreen to her Dad, "Can you do me, please, Daddy?" He choked mid-swallow of his beer and nodded, accepting the bottle of sunscreen. Before she turned around, she touched his shoulder in concern, "You okay, Daddy? Wrong hole?" He smiled and nodded, "Yeah. I'm okay now punkin girl. Turn around. Just your back?" She shook her head, "No, my whole body please. I don't want to get that goop under my fingernails." His hands stilled momentarily as he processed the notion of rubbing down his hot, string-bikini clad, 18 year old daughter, with coconut scented sunscreen. He felt his face flush guiltily, as his cock stirred and he thought to himself, ~I hope to God she doesn't notice I'm hard doing this.~ Abby stood up to give her Dad, full 360 degree access. He had already done her back, shoulders and arms and was kneeling down to do her left leg. As his hands encircled and approached her thigh she spread her legs wider and he got a clear glimpse of the outline of her slightly parted and obviously bare, pussy lips. "Did you ever do this for Mom?" His hands stilled again and he had a brief memory flash of his late wife's naked body trembling with desire under his fingertips. It didn't seem fair, in his opinion, that twelve years could pass and he could still miss Gabby so desperately. His hands continued to spread sunscreen on his daughter's strong, toned, tanned, shapely thigh. "Yes, Abby. Funnily enough, Gabrielle didn't like goop under her fingernails either. You're your Mother's daughter in so many ways." She looked down at her Dad as he switched to her right leg, "Really? What other ways?" He smiled, "Well you've got the same silky fine, long, straight, honey-blonde hair and silvery-green eyes. Let's see what else. You're built like her too; tall and slender and very curvy. It's not limited to just physical similarities though. Sometimes when I hear you laugh, punkin girl, I have to remind myself she's gone cuz you sound just like her. You've even inherited her artistic tendencies, only instead of film and a camera you use your imagination and paint the pictures you see in your mind." She smiled and sighed wistfully, "Thanks, Daddy. I like hearing about Mom. Other than pictures, my memories of her are kinda fuzzy. What about you? Am I like you at all?" He chuckled, "In all my worst fears ways! Unfortunately for you, you've inherited my sense of humor and my ability to burn water - thank goodness for housekeepers and take-out or we'd starve!" She laughed in delighted agreement, "Amen to that!" Bruce finished her right leg and stood up, relieved to be done; his hard on was becoming painful, "There that should do it." She spun on him startled, "Wait, Dad! You forgot to do me in the front!" He sucked in a breath, wondering how he was gonna get through doing her front, without her catching on how horny she was making him. He smiled lightly, "Oh. Right. Okay well, lift up your hair, then." She complied immediately, "Like this?" Her breasts lifted before his gaze, as she lifted her hair and he groaned inwardly, thinking, ~Yes, perfect if you don't mind me wanting to fuck you senseless! Holy fuck I don't know how much more of this I can take! I'm just a man for pity's sake!~ . He smiled hoping she couldn't detect the strain, "Yeah. That's right, just like that." As he rubbed the goop over her collarbones and down towards the cleavage of her perfectly shaped, C cup tits, he tried hard to think about household bills. That really wasn't working out so well for him. Her wet bikini clung to her tits, putting her small, hardened nipples in stark relief. He was both sorry and relieved to have to move on and do her tummy. As he rubbed the lotion into her side she startled him with a giggle scream, "Ahhhahahaha! Daddy! Be careful! You know how ticklish I am!" He had yanked his hand away when she'd flinched and laughed. He stared at her, stunned by how clearly he could hear and see his beloved Gabrielle in their lovely, young daughter. Guilt and longing fought for top position in his mind. He tried to keep his turmoil hidden, "Yes, I do know. Sorry, I just forgot for a moment. I'll be more careful. There. Is that better?" She nodded, "Yeah, but Daddy you have to put it a little below the waistband too because I move around a lot with swimming and it shifts. Come to think of it you need to touch up my bum cheeks to get under the edges there, too. I so do not need a burn there or I'll have trouble sitting! Thanks, Dad." Bruce was having trouble breathing as he stood behind his daughter and slipped four fingers just to the first joint, into the waistband of her string bikini bottoms, to spread the sunscreen all the way around. As his hand curved over her hip on his way to the back, he inadvertently (or maybe it was subconsciously on purpose?) undid the string bowtie and her bottoms loosened enough to cause her momentary panic, "Daddy!" At her tone and volume, he yanked his hand away and stepped back reflexively, which only served to loosen the tie even further. The back of her bikini bottoms gaped down on one side and he saw one naked globe of her ass before she hurriedly grabbed the strings and re-tied them. He chuckled to try to lighten the moment for them both, "Sorry about that! You might want to double bow those on both sides." She nodded sheepishly, "Sorry for yelling, Dad; that just startled me is all. Double bowed now. It's all good. Could you just finish that last part, please?" As he reached out to apply more sunscreen along the bikini line of her ass, he took a deep breath and told himself his torment was nearly over. Despite being very careful, as his fingers rounded under the fabric covering her ass cheek, one finger slipped a little too far in and he felt her pussy slit. She jumped and tried to pull away but his fingertips were stuck since she'd re-tied the bottoms much tighter. Instinctively, he wrapped his free arm around her waist and pulled her back to steady them both and prevent a fall. His finger tips were inside her bikini bottoms just a breath away from her pussy slit. He felt her hands gripping his forearm and realised with alarm that the underside of his very hard cock was flush against her ass crack with only two very flimsy pieces of material between them. He meant to move away. Really he did. His body didn't seem to be listening to his upper brain anymore, however. He was gently rubbing himself against her and his fingertips had squirmed further inside her bikini to trace lightly all around the hole he seemed to know was there though it remained unseen. He leaned his face into the silken skein of hair at the nape of her neck and mumbled, "Mmm! You feel so good, 'Abby!" She stilled in his arms, "Daddy, don't. Please. You have to stop." He was lost in sensation as his fingertip slipped ever further between her pussy lips. She tried to fidget away but only succeeded in assisting him in gaining entry. He heard her gasp and in that moment, it was the most erotic sound he believed he'd ever heard. He pulled her even closer and shoved his finger further up her to the second knuckle. She was whimpering and fidgeting still. His other hand strayed upwards to grope her tit over her bikini. She put her hand over his and tried to push it away. He let go briefly and pinned her arm at her side. His hand then immediately reclaimed the tit he'd been feeling. Suddenly, he decided that she was wearing far too many clothes. He felt an urgent impatience to feel her naked flesh. He felt around for the strings holding her top on and pulled them until they came undone. She tried to hold it on with her one free hand but he pulled it forwards away from her and it trailed through her fingers as he flung it on the pool deck. She began to really struggle in earnest as he continued trying to finger-fuck her while pinching her naked nipples, "Please stop! Don't do this, Daddy, please!" He took his fingers out of her pussy and started tugging her bikini bottoms downward. When they wouldn't come easily he yanked at them until they ripped on one side. She screamed once from the combination of the sound of tearing material and the biting sensation of the string against her flesh, on the intact side. He switched arms to continue holding her around the middle while he pushed what was left of her bottoms down, until they fell on her foot. Then he shoved the front of his own swim trunks down as well, to release his hard cock from it's confines. When Abby felt her Dad's naked erection against her own naked flesh, she tried again to reason with him, "Please, don't! I'm your daughter! This isn't right! Why are you doing this? Daddy, please! Please stop!" He was past the point of no return and her pleas were falling on unhearing ears. He resumed groping her tits with one hand and his other hand went directly between her legs from behind. His middle finger gained entry into her slick hole to the third knuckle. He added his index finger soon after. His thumb dipped into her ass crack and pushed at her anus. She jerked in surprised fear, but couldn't get away from his intrusions. Suddenly, he was trying to kneel, intent on taking her down with him. She resisted, so he used his foot to make hers slip, and then they were both on their knees. She tried to crawl out of the arm encircling her waist but he tightened his hold, straddling one of her calves and holding it in place between his knees. He pulled her back forcefully with his arm, even as he pushed his thumb forward into her anus. She squealed and tried to push him back out but to no avail. He pushed his thumb all the way in, pulling his fingers out of her pussy. He transfered pussy juice from his fingers to the base of his thumb several times in a row as he thumb fucked his daughter's ass. She was crying but had given up trying to talk him into stopping. He pushed the head of his cock under the thumb in her ass, slowly pushing in his cock as he gradually withdrew his thumb. When his cock was one thumb-length inside her, he felt once again for her cunthole and transferred her juices to the portion of his cock still outside her ass. He slowly pushed his cock the rest of the way in and began to thrust in and out. Abby was gasping in discomfort and mortification as her own father sodomised her, in their backyard, in broad daylight. Her mortification became alarm as she felt him touching her clit and realised his cock wasn't causing as much discomfort anymore. She found herself pushing back on him with his every thrust forward and a blush of guilty shame infused her entire body. His fingers on her clit were creating familiar, pleasurable sensations and she weakly protested, "No Daddy, please. You're gonna make me cum. Please Daddy. Don't ... make me cum. Daddy don't. Stop. Please, Daddy. Oh God Daddy! Oh oh oh oh oh oh! Oh God Daddy no! Ahhhhhh! Oh Daddydaddydaddydaddyyyyyyyyy!" Her orgasm was his undoing. He let out a ferocious yell and emptied his balls up her ass in desperate thrusts. When he was spent, he pulled his softening cock out of her ass and watched in detached bemusement as a trickle of his pink-streaked cum dribbled out of her slightly gaping asshole. Leaving her on all fours, he stood up, tucked his cock back into his swim trunks and walked towards the house not looking back as he spoke, "I'm going to take a shower and then order in some pizza. I'll let you know when it gets here." Abby stared at his retreating back incredulously, "Daddy, please! Just tell me why! Why did you do that to me?" He paused at the threshold to their home and looked over his shoulder at her. She hadn't moved and his loving eyes appreciated her nudity, even now. Her long, honey-blonde hair was only slightly messy, her face was a little puffy and her silvery-green eyes were still glittering with tears. He shrugged helplessly, "Because you're your Mother's daughter, Abigail and an even better cocktease than she was." Her Mother's Daughter 1. Recessional – The final week.. No. I don't regret anything that I've done: why should I? She's my daughter: I carried her for nine months; I struggled to raise her; I put up with the pitying, disapproving glances, the barbed insults and the sneers. They hardened me against what she herself would hurl at me as she grew up: she was always stubborn – she gets that from me and I wouldn't have had her any other way. But – and its what we call a big but – I have no real idea where the vicious and vindictive streak came from; that could only have been from her father's genes (whoever he was)! No, the older she got the nastier she became, to other people she was a perfect English rose but to me she was a little queen-bitch. When she was fourteen she found out what a 'lesbian' was and strangely enough, she went quiet for a few days. Then soon after discovered that I was one. I won't repeat any of the vitriol that she hurled at me on an almost daily basis: or at least when she didn't want anything: when she did, she was all sweetness and light: the perfect loving daughter. Again. Some of it was my fault: I tended to spoil her; often because it was the only way to get any peace and quiet. In my own defence I would like to say that I never consciously tried to influence her sexuality although this never stopped her from claiming that I was trying to "turn her into a dyke". May be I should have tried: at least we would have had something in common other than the constant rows. Things came to a head the weekend before her eighteenth birthday: it was the Saturday before she was due to 'come of age' on the following Friday. Like every other concerned parent; I was waiting up for her. She was supposed to be in by eleven but by midnight I was worried – really worried! The eleven pm deadline was one that she herself had suggested after a discussion. As the hands on the wall clock got closer to half past midnight, my internal demons began to nag at me. Is she hurt? Has she been in an accident? Has she been kidnapped? Is she.... The front door slammed... "Samantha?" I called out in a relieved voice. "WHAT?" The answer might as well have been: "Get out of my face!" because that was what my daughter really meant. She poked her head around the lounge door and glared at me and I steeled myself for the row that we were about to have. I looked at her: her long blonde hair was dishevelled and her heavy make-up smeared. "What?" She repeated slightly less aggressively. I smiled a conciliatory smile. "Is everything alright?" She came into the room and flopped down in the chair opposite me. "Is this going to take long? Only I'm tired and want to go to bed!" I repeated the question. "Is everything alright?" "Why shouldn't it be?" She asked shrugging off my concerns. I swallowed and tried to get rid of the sour taste in my mouth. "I do worry about you, Sammi... I really do." "Yeah, well..." Her anger seemed to subside. "I'm okay, honest, mom. We were just celebrating my birthday. That's all." I carefully avoided mentioning her street-wise precocious friends of whom I did not approve: what mother ever does? I sniffed: and said the wrong thing entirely. "Have you been drinking?" I regretted it as soon as the words were out. "I'm eighteen!" She snapped. "No you are not!" I countered. "Not till next Friday you're not." My voice sounded tired: she really was wearing me down. "Linny's folks let her drink when she was seventeen!" My daughter snapped. I sighed. "I'm not concerned about her: only you." Then I made my next mistake. "Who else was there?" She rolled her eyes theatrically. "Oh just us girls... And our boyfriends." She really emphasised the last word. I sighed, I had already suspected that she was sexually active to some degree or other and added. "Do be careful, Sammi." Was it guilt? I don't know, but she suddenly exploded. "Oh I am! I take precautions every time. I don't care what you say, I love it! What's more: you can't stop me! I love Alan and he loves me... Or would you rather I slept with Linny?.. I know that you hate boys... So what do you know?" She shrieked, jumping to her feet. "I'm not gay, you know. I'm not going to become a lesbian!" I closed my eyes, bit back on my next remark and tried to tell her the real reason that I was waiting up. "Sammi... I've got some good news..." "I don't care: I'm going to bed!" She snapped and ran out of the room. "... we've won the lottery." I announced quietly to the slamming door. * * * I didn't see her before two the following afternoon: I put Sunday lunch on hold and waited for "her Ladyship" to appear. Eventually the door swung open and a sickly, hungover figure tottered into the kitchen. She looked even more pale than usual. "Been sick!" The apparition mumbled. "Don't want nothing!" I sighed... Lunch was off. I watched her as she folded herself onto a chair at the opposite end of the kitchen table: she looked so small and frail. "Oh, Sammi!" "What?" She tried to snap, but her heart just wasn't in it. "Leave me alone!" I winced. "Try a bit of dry toast... It can help settle the stomach." I said trying to be helpful. Suddenly she made a gagging noise, clamped her hand over her mouth and ran out of the room. I heard something splash onto the hall floor and went to get the mop and bucket. That evening, I left her watching television and drove across town to the club where I was a member. It was a lady's club: I had been going there for years and it was a sort of second home to me. As you will realise, "Lady's" is a euphemism for "Lesbian's" and yes, there still are a few of those clubs left in the UK, although "The Fish on a Bicycle" was probably the only one left in the whole of the Midlands. It had a shabby gentility about it, which suited me. It's still there and is much the same even now, so I'm not complaining. I sat in the lounge at the club: I was deep in thought and nursing a cup of coffee. The lounge was rather like a large sitting room, but without a TV. I was there for one reason and one reason only – to give myself somewhere to think. I had a homophobic daughter who was beyond my control and was, I feared, going to get herself pregnant by one of the spotty morons that she hung around with. I needed to do something: but what? Had I actually any right to interfere? Oh, sure; I was her mother, but in less than a week she would be an adult and I would lose her completely. No I was not a "clingy" parent but I was HER parent: her only one: I felt responsibility: but was that all? I know that I am stubborn: that's where Sammi gets it from. She'd backed me into a corner with her torrent of abuse and assorted insults: but she hadn't worn me down. I felt that I had a parental responsibility to make sure that my daughter grew up into a well-balanced woman and not an obnoxious brat. In my own way I had taken that responsibility seriously. I signalled to the young Asian woman who was hovering over in the corner of the lounge. She came trotting over to me and addressed me with a cheerful. "Yes, Ma'am?" She was tall and leggy, a fact emphasised by her ultra-short waitress's costume and little white pinafore. "Ah, Wendy..." – Not a very 'Indian' name – "...is there any more coffee please?" She smiled and answered in a surprisingly deep voice. "I'll just get you another cup." A familiar voice behind me added. "Make that two!" I didn't need to turn. "Hallo, Maud, what brings you here on a Sunday?" She sank untidily into the armchair opposite as the click-clack-click of Wendy's heels vanished towards the kitchen. She sighed. "Oh you know; same old, same old.." Which I translated from middle-aged-lesbian-speak into English and got: "I was lonely!" Maud was perhaps twenty years older than me and of the faction that described its self as 'butch'. Me? I'm a woman... I've never thought I needed a sub-gender. Wendy reappeared with a silver tray on which she balanced our coffee, the cream jug and the sugar basin. She had not quite mastered the art of balancing on 4" heels and carrying a tray of drinks, so she apologised for the spillage. "Don't worry about it." Maud reassured her. "How you feeling?" Wendy grimaced. "Still a bit sore: but its worth it. Can't wait to go all the way. Dr Kaur says that she can fiddle the whole 'living as a woman' bit and I can start surgery as soon as she can sort out the paper work." I felt as if I'd been slapped: this beautiful, tall and willowy creature was actually transgender? My bump of curiosity was niggling at me when she walked away after serving the coffee. "She's never a transwoman?" Maud chuckled. "Give her chance: she only got castrated her last Wednesday – she's still transitioning!" She smiled wistfully. "Personally, I can't wait for her to finish her, er, upgrades." "Maud!" I snapped in surprise. "What?" She laughed as she poured cream into her coffee. "If she wants to be a beautiful woman and work at this club then she can expect us all to be queuing up to get into her panties and pop her cherries." "I didn't know that we allowed pre-op TG's as members: or employees." I said in an attempt to cover my surprise. She sipped her coffee genteelly, which was at odds with her appearance. "We have to move with the times, old thing." She said in her public school voice. (Yes, she had been expelled from one of the best schools in the country.) "Besides she's one of Milly's converts." "Ah. That Milly!" Milly, the former stress councillor whose hobby seemed to be turning men into women. I was about to tell her about my latest run-in with my "sweet" daughter when there was... Well not a disturbance, exactly... Madam Anna Volkova arrived. Anna was a wealthy woman: a fixer who could arrange for almost anything to happen: an oligarch, if you like. It was rumoured that she owned a whole Caribbean Island amongst other things. She was a slim, blonde, ageless woman with perfect pale skin and long ash-blonde hair... Don't you just hate her already? She undulated in accompanied by a taller dark-haired woman who had the word 'lawyer' running through her: just like the town name in a stick of sea-side rock. "Oh, God!" Maud spluttered. "Something's going down." She gestured towards the entrance. I followed her gaze and watched several other women enter. The first was a middle aged Indian woman with long, straight shiny, black hair: so obviously not a wig like Wendy's. Like the Russian, she was immaculately dressed and was trailed by another lawyer. I turned to Maud. "Who's that?" "Only the Queen Bitch, herself: the richest woman in Birmingham – that's who! Don't tell me that you've never heard of Padma Patel?" When I admitted that I hadn't, my friend just snorted. The two powerful women sat down at one of the small coffee tables while the two lawyers remained standing and eyed each other with professional suspicion. Suddenly they were joined by another woman, a younger one who was casually dressed: she slouched into the other armchair that was by the table. "Well?" We heard her ask rather sharply. Padma Patel looked at her as if she was making an appraisal while the Russian blonde smiled thinly. "I think that we can do business... A lot of business. After all, biotech is the future: how much do you want for 40% of your company?" At this point the conversation became muted and I went back to telling Maud all about my troubles. We moved to the cocktail bar shortly afterwards and I cuddled up to my old friend for comfort as we nursed a couple of weak Bucks Fizzes: we were both driving and I, for one, did not want to lose my licence. I ignored Maud's ulterior motives: I knew that she wanted to get me into her "dungeon" as she called her bedroom-cum-playroom. She had a liking for bondage, which was not my scene... Hell, I didn't even know what the letters BDSM stood for at that time! She slipped a comforting arm around me and gave me a quick squeeze. "Poor Caitlyn, she really is putting you through it, isn't she?" Maud purred... She was up to something, I could tell. Maud was a psychiatrist and knew exactly which buttons to push to get the result that she wanted. Although, there in the club that night, I didn't much care. "Oh, Maud, what am I going to do?" I asked rhetorically... I didn't expect an answer, mainly because I knew that there wasn't one. I was locked in a battle that most parents are familiar with: it begins at puberty and goes on until the spots fade. She kissed me on top of my head and chuckled and pushed a button. "She's eighteen on Friday – then your job is done: you can throw her out; change the locks, sell the place and move in with me!" She purred I smiled weakly. "The first part sounds attractive but I don't fancy being your sub, or slave or whatever." I leaned forward and picked up my glass: as I sat up again her hand 'slipped' onto my breast quite by accident – not! I didn't object: I'd known Maud a long time: she could take liberties if she wanted too, in fact I welcomed the attention.. "Maud, what can I do? I don't want to lose her: she's the only family that I've got. She's everything to me." There was a dry chuckle and another button was pushed. "Poor Caitlyn: at her age you should be getting so much pleasure out of her, shouldn't you? You should be doing all of the mother-daughter girly things together that you dreamed about, you know: shopping, sharing secrets, going out together: things like that." I sighed wistfully. "Oh I've tried, God knows how I've tried but she seems to throw everything back into my face." "Only because she is allowed too." – A third button went click. "Have you ever thought about..." She let her voice tail off. (Click!). "What?" I sat up half turned and faced her, the fondling hand fell away. Maud smiled. "No, it wouldn't work for you. She's not your type." (Click!-click!-click!) I frowned. "Are you suggesting that I should have an affair with my own daughter?" I asked incredulously. She gave me a wide, beaming smile. "Or would you rather she climb into bed with a series of spotty morons until you end up as a grandmother?" I felt my mouth fall open as I stared at my oldest friend. "Yes!" I snapped. This was followed by. "No!" And then "Oh, I don't know what I mean!" In quick succession. (Click!-click!-click!) I was pushing my own buttons now. "But, Maud, it's wrong: it's gross." I tried to counter attack. The smile became exasperatingly wide. "Well, if Sammi's not attractive: if she's repulsive too you, okay. Then it would be unpleasant for you. But she's not, is she?" I heard a tiny voice say. "No." Ever so quietly. Then another question. "So you do fancy her, don't you?" She purred. "'Ess." Someone answered, so quietly that I almost missed it. By now my head was light. Do I fancy my own daughter? Do I? Do I? The words tumbled through my echoing skull. There was only one honest answer. Maud leaned closer and whispered. "She's eighteen on Friday: why don't you give yourself a birthday present?" She frowned prettily. "It won't be cheap or easy, mind..." "Oh that's okay." The voice seemed to shout. "I've just won the lottery." Maud stood up. "Okay, my darling, I'll make some preliminary enquiries. Phone me tomorrow morning with your answer!" Then with a pleased smile, she pivoted on her heel and walked purposefully out of the cocktail bar. What had I agreed to? I left shortly after: I don't need to say just how confused I felt. 2. Conflict – The final week begins.. No! I thought as I drove home. Not my daughter! It wouldn't be right. It was an easy drive from Edgbaston to Sutton Coldfield... Sunday night, remember? Most of the traffic was pub or Indian takeaway bound – the Balti was invented in Birmingham, remember? I thought about some of the Mother-Daughter double acts who were club members: what was the working definition of incest? 'Rolling your own', that was it! Mothers and Daughters; Aunts and nieces; Sisters... The latter was perhaps the most common incestuous relationship that I knew of... But Caitlyn and Sammi??? I rephrased my conclusion: It wouldn't be right for me/us. But damn you Maud: I can't get the idea out of my head... What have you done to me? As I drove home, I had a vision, a dream of Sammi: Sammi naked: Sammi in bed waiting for me: Sammi being nice. My God! The latter was an eye opener! "Stop it! Stop it now!" I shouted out loud. "She's only a child." There was silence and I suddenly realised that the traffic lights were green. I put the car into gear and drove off. A little voice broke the silence: "Four more days." It said. "On Friday, she'll be an adult!" I screamed. I arrived home about ten... Sammi was still up and was looking better. There was a scatter of textbooks and lesson notes on the dining room table and her laptop was active. She looked up: her blue eyes burned with annoyance, but this faded. God, Maud was right, my daughter was beautiful! "Hi, Sammi, how do you feel?" I asked as sympathetically as I could as I sat on the chair next to her. I could smell her warm musky odour and it was turning me on. She stared at me for a second or two. "Fine! Everything's okay." Her voice was gentle and friendly. I smiled and patted her hand which she snatched away as if I was contagious: may be she thought Lesbianism was... Not that way darling, not like that. "Sammi, I've got some really wonderful news..." I began to say. The opportunity was too much for her to pass up on and she placed another of her barbs. "If you are about to tell me that your going to shack-up with one of your crop-haired dyke friends, forget it! I'm just not interested in you or her!" The venom was heavy in her voice and I felt as if she had kicked me in the stomach. "Sammi!" I shouted as tears welled up in my eyes. But deep inside, another button went: click! She jumped up. "You make me sick – I'm going to bed: just don't touch anything! Do you hear? It's coursework so it's important!" At that she stormed out, slamming the door behind her. "We've won the lottery, darling." I announced to the empty room; which was becoming a habit. Next morning, Monday, began unusually. Normally it's a battle to get Samantha up and ready for college: I give her a lift as I have to drive past on my way to work: I'm the Court Reporter for the Birmingham Herald – one of the city's evening papers. Sammi is the reason why I am usually late. Well, Sammi: I'm never going to be late again... No, this Monday morning, my daughter surprised me: I awoke to the smell of bacon cooking. Before I knew what-was-what, I was out of bed and pulling on my dressing gown, I ran down stairs where I found my dear daughter, in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. She gave me an angelic smile. "Good morning. mom." I should have been suspicious but, quite frankly, I was too shocked. Samantha had never even attempted to help prepare a meal... Or at least, not since she turned twelve. "Good morning darling, this is a very pleasant surprise!" I replied, trying to hide my shock. She gave me a beaming smile and then went back to her cooking and dishing up. As we sat down at opposite ends of the little kitchen table, I had scarcely got the first forkful into my mouth when she revealed her ulterior motives.