4 comments/ 94815 views/ 9 favorites Tilley and Her Mom By: forcryinourloud It was dark. Very dark. There were no streetlights this far out of town, and there was no moon. It was also rather cold. She huddled into her topcoat and stood by the side of the road, her back to the woodland, trying not to think about what could be living among those trees, because it was late, she was alone and it was a long walk home. At least it wasn't cold She shouldn't have told him to stop the car and let her out, but then, she couldn't just let him go on doing what he was doing. He'd been disrespectful and she couldn't stand being disrespected; she wouldn't put up with it. No way! She hadn't encouraged him in any way. He'd just put his hand on her leg, just above her knee, and squeezed - and not very gently, either. And he'd been driving the car, as well! Anything could have happened! There was a law against using mobile 'phones whilst driving and there should be a law against that sort of thing on the move, too. In the restaurant, he'd been the very embodiment of charm; he'd held her chair as she sat; he'd listened with great interest -- or so it had seemed - as she talked; he'd flattered her about her hair -- she was very proud of her long, black hair - and her clothes. Told her he loved her smile and how beautiful she was. Huh! Was it the clothes that had inflamed his passions? No, it couldn't have been that. She was, as always, very modestly dressed. The hemline of her dress had barely reached her knees and as for her neckline... Well, there simply wasn't a neckline! The dress had covered her shoulders and almost reached her chin; there wasn't even a hint of cleavage. She'd made absolutely sure of that. Not that she had much cleavage to display. She was quite unlike her mother in that respect; Mother had nice big boobs. She'd stood in front of the mirror for ages, turning first this way and then that way, making sure that everything was perfect. And it couldn't have been the make-up, surely? The idea was ridiculous! She was expert at applying cosmetics. Too much looked cheap and not enough, well... That looked even cheaper, in her opinion. Everything had been just-so for her evening date. So what had made him do it? Perhaps he was just like "that"; her mother had given her that warning about men when she'd first started dating. "Be careful, darling," mummy had said. "You don't know what men are like. I do!" And she'd nodded knowingly, before adding, "And you shouldn't get in a car with a man you don't know!" It had taken her a while to find out what mummy had meant, but find out she did, on her very first date, seven years ago, when she'd been just eighteen and unprepared for what had happened. Her date had been a little older; quite a lot older, actually. In his thirties. She'd felt safe with him. And why shouldn't she? A man of that age would look after her, she'd thought. Take care of her, the way a father would. The way her father would if he'd still been around. Which he hadn't been since she was two years old. She didn't think any father would put his tongue in her mouth when he kissed her outside the restaurant, either. Fathers didn't do that, did they? She'd found out since that some fathers did do that, but her father, her daddy, wouldn't, of that she was sure. The very idea! It appalled and intrigued her at the same time. She hadn't told mummy, of course. There would have been trouble. Hell to pay, in fact. Mummy would have had words with him; would have seen the man off for what he'd done. And she didn't want any trouble. Besides, she'd liked what he did. She'd liked it a lot! Even now, she blushed at the thought of how that kiss had made her feel: all hot and not at all bothered. And even hotter and rather wet down there, between her legs. In her 'doo-dah', as mummy called it, on the rare occasions they talked about such things. As she got older, her doo-dah began to interest her very much. She discovered that men were interested in her doo-dah, too! There was a lot of pleasure to be had when investigating her doo-dah and she liked pleasure very much indeed. Therefore, she investigated her doo-dah on a regular and frequent basis. And it wasn't too long before she was allowing others to help her in her investigations, because that was even more fun! She kept all this to herself. Mummy would never have approved! In fact, she would have had a fit. Mummy thought this kind of thing was dirty; not something nice people did. But a girl had to have her standards. And her date tonight had fallen woefully short of her standards. Fancy trying to grope her as he was driving! Still, he hadn't made much of a fuss about pulling over to let her out. He'd just said that it wasn't a good idea to get out just here, on this stretch of road, in the dark, with no houses for miles and not much traffic passing by. It wasn't safe, he'd cautioned her, not safe at all, for a young woman to be on her own in this neck of the woods. But she'd insisted and now here she was. At first, she'd hoped he'd come back. Had waited for him at the side of the road. But time had passed and he hadn't come back and no other cars had passed, either. All she'd heard were noises from the trees: the hoot of an owl and the rustle of something moving around in the undergrowth. So she'd decided to walk, thanking her lucky stars she was wearing sensible, low-heeled shoes that were ideal for just this kind of situation. If those other girls in the restaurant had been forced to walk, they wouldn't have got very far in the heels they had been wearing, that was for sure. Slutty, they had been. The shoes and the girls. She was also pleased that she never wore pantyhose. Always stockings. Wearing pantyhose wasn't healthy, according to the magazine articles she'd read. It made you sweat and caused infections in your doo-dah and the last thing she wanted was an infection in her doo-dah. Besides, she'd discovered that guys didn't like pantyhose. Apart from one man, who'd persuaded her to wear some and had really enjoyed tearing them to get at her. He'd only torn them between her legs, but they were still only fit for the trash when he'd finished. It had been rather exciting, though! She flushed and grinned at the memory. None of this helped her present situation. She was still stuck in the middle of nowhere, on her own. If only someone would come along to offer a lift. Not just anyone, mind you. It would have to be someone above reproach, someone who wouldn't take advantage of her. A priest, perhaps? Someone respectable. A nun. A nun would be ideal. That was unlikely, she knew, but it would be nice if a woman came along to rescue her; she'd had enough of men for one night. After half an hour's walking, she stopped to rest. Her shoes might have been eminently sensible, but her feet still hurt. She wasn't used to trudging about. Nice comfortable cars were more to her taste. She looked around for somewhere to sit; nothing, not even a fallen tree. What sort of woodland was it, with no fallen trees? And then, she saw the lights of an approaching car, heard its engine At last! With a silent prayer that it wasn't another predatory male more interested in helping himself to her doo-dah than helping her out of a spot, she moved to the middle of the road and waved her arms. The car slowed, pulled and stopped. She rushed up to the driver's door, peered through the window... And gaped in astonishment. "What are you doing here, mummy?" She asked. "Why aren't you at home? You were going to watch a Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers movie. You got yourself some candy and popcorn to make an evening of it!" "Just get in the car, Tilley," her mother said. "And what the heck do you think I'm doing out here? I'm riding shotgun on my only child, that's what I'm doing. And a good thing, too, from what I can see!" "You've been following me?" Tilley was shocked. Why..? Why would you follow me?" "Get in the car," her mother repeated. "We'll talk about this later, at home." Tilley was an obedient daughter; she did as she was told and climbed into the front passenger seat next to her mother. When they finally arrived home, Tilley went to the kitchen to make a pot of tea. She was bubbling with questions, but knew her mother would answer them when she felt like it. She wouldn't be rushed. So Tilley made the tea, arranged some cookies on a plate, set the whole lot on a tray and took it into the sitting-room, where her mother waited. As her mother sipped her tea, Tilley checked her watch: 10pm. It would soon be bedtime. She hoped her mother would start talking soon. She wasn't disappointed, because her mother set down her teacup, dabbed some cookie crumbs from her lips with a snow-white napkin, leaned back in her chair and glared at her daughter. "Don't think I don't know what's been going on, young lady," her mother said. Suddenly, Tilley was nervous. More nervous than she had been on the country road. "I know what you've been doing with those young men." Tilley blushed. "I haven't done anything..." she began. Her mother would have none of it: she wasn't in the mood for lame excuses. "I'm not blind and I'm not stupid," her mother went on, as though Tilley hadn't spoken. "And neither am I deaf. I heard you when you were younger, all the noise you made when you used your fingers. And probably anything you could find that resembled a man's cock. I know what you did in the back seats of those cars, too. What I didn't see I could hear. Your legs wide open and all that gasping and groaning." Tilley gasped. That meant... "You've been spying on me! You've been following me. You've been following me to spy on me! Why did you do that? How could you!" Tilley could feel the tears about to flow, tears of rage and embarrassment. Mostly embarrassment. "How long have you been doing that?" "Only since you started dating. You need saving from yourself," her mother said. "I've tried to guide you, to set you on the right track. But have you listened? Ooh, No. You've gone your own way. Ploughed your own furrow. And how many men have ploughed that furry little furrow between your legs? Quite a few, I'll warrant." Tilley's nervousness and embarrassment disappeared in a flood of self-righteous anger and a jolt of shock. Was this really her mother talking? Her mother who would never talk about sex in even the most round about way? Had she been drinking? Had she been taking one of those recreational drugs? No way! Then anger took over completely. "How dare you?" she stormed. She stormed quietly, because she didn't want the neighbors to hear. "You've invaded my privacy. I would never do that to you!" "You can't trust men," her mother replied. "You know that. Just look at your father." "Not all men are like my father," Tilley said. "All the men I've ever met have been exactly like your father," her mother said. "They're all after one thing, my girl, just you mark my words. They'll get you on your back, your legs as wide apart as they can get them, have their fun and then they'll fuck off." "Mother!" Tilley was now in a state of profound shock. What had happened to her dear mother? Why was she talking like this? This was a woman who never, ever, used strong language, never uttered the mildest profanity, whatever the provocation. "If it's just sex you're after," her mother was saying, "You don't need a man for that. They're not essential, you know. But then you know that already, don't you? I told you: I've heard you pleasuring yourself. I'll grant though, that it's better to have someone with you when you cum. It's better still when someone makes you cum. And as I said, you don't need a man for that." Tilley was looking at her mother in a new light. Instead of mummy sitting there facing her, she saw a woman. A human being with experience of life. A woman with needs, who'd lived without a man for twenty-three years. Had her mother lain in her own bed, her fingers between her legs, rubbing frantically at her own doo-dah. Suddenly, the word doo-dah seemed silly, childish. She should call it what it was: pussy, cunt, slit, gash. Anything but doo-dah! Had her mother rubbed her own cunt lips, teased her own clit? Had she imagined a hot throbbing cock pounding in and out of her, a man's balls slapping against her ass before she took a flood of hot cum deep inside her? Tilley flushed again. The thought was an exciting one and she could feel herself becoming aroused. She shook her head to get the image out of her mind. Tilley wondered what her mother had got up to in bed with her father. What positions daddy had taken her in as he fucked her. Had there been other men between her mother's legs, humping her and squirting their seed into her? She could understand why a man would lust after her mother, though. She was a very well preserved fifty-years-old: still had a great figure; and she knew how to show it off, even if she didn't do it consciously. Even tonight, she looked good dressed in jeans and a shapeless old sweater that didn't hide the fact that her mother had great boobs. But why was mummy talking to her like this? "Because it's time we had a chat," her mother replied when Tilley asked the question. "We've never really had a woman-to-woman chat, have we?" Tilley shook her head. Her mother had warned her about men, many, many times. Told her to be careful of them. But a woman-to-woman chat? They'd certainly never had one of them. Tilley was intrigued. This would be interesting. "Yes, I've been following you. I didn't want you to get into trouble, like so many other girls do. I didn't want you to be taken advantage of. I know you've got a curious, inquiring mind. I know you want to know about things, like to experience things. But that can be dangerous, you know. That's why I followed you tonight. Why I followed you all those other nights. To catch you if you fall. And tonight you fell, didn't you. I just wish I could have got to you sooner, my darling, I wish you hadn't been alone on that road for so long. I would have been there sooner, but I took the wrong road and had to find my way back to the restaurant and start over, looking for you. And as for the way I've been talking, the words I've been using? I just wanted to prove to you that mummy is as human as you. That I know the same words others use and that I can use them too. That I think about the same things." Tilley looked at her mother with a new respect and a lot more understanding. And love. Her darling mummy had been watching over her, protecting her. All the time, she'd been there, like a guardian angel. Tilley jumped up from her chair, ran to her mother and threw her arms around her. She kissed her over and over again, saying, "Oh, mummy, thank you, thank you! I do love you so much!" Her mother returned the hug and the kisses and then patted her daughter on the bottom. "That's alright, my darling. That's what I'm here for. It's part of the job description! Now, go off to bed, it's late." And Tilley, her heart full of love for her mummy, did as she was told and went off to bed. Tilley's room was the smallest bedroom in the house. There was just enough room for her single-size bed, a chest of drawers, a small dressing table and a very small bedside table. Getting dressed and undressed was a struggle that involved knocked knees and elbows. When she was in her pink pajamas with the teddy-bear motif -- she hated those pajamas, she was twenty-five years' old, for goodness sake, no longer a child -- she climbed between the sheets and snuggled down. It had been a hell of an evening. That awful man; her walk in the dark; her mother's revelations. And now she was tired. There was a tap at the door. Before she could say anything, the door opened and her mother's head peeped in. "Tilley, are you asleep?" Her mother's voice was a loud whisper. If Tilley had been asleep, she wouldn't be now. "What is it, mummy?" Tilley asked, yawning. "Can I come in for a moment?" "I'm really tired, mummy, can't it wait until morning?" "No, it can't. There's something else I need to say and it needs to be said tonight." Her mother sounded quite insistent. "O.k., come on in," Tilley said, groping for the switch on her bedside lamp. She flicked the switch and the room was filled with soft light. Her mother entered the room and sat on the edge of Tilley's bed. Tilley sat up and looked at her expectantly. Her mother was still fully dressed and there was a worried look on her face. "I'm sorry to disturb you, darling," she said, "But I'm worried. I'm worried that I've upset and offended you. Telling you those things, the language I used. You must have wondered what was going on. I won't be able to rest tonight if we don't sort things out between us." Tilley smiled at her mother and said, "No, I'm not offended. Why should I be offended by a mother who loves me so much. And as for the language, well it was kind of a shock to hear you talking like that, but it was good, too, it really was. It makes you sort of..." Tilley groped for the right word. "It makes you a woman and not just my mother," she finished. Her mother was delighted. "I'm so pleased! You're not angry with me? Are you sure?" Tilley told her she was sure she wasn't angry with her and prepared to lay back down and try again to sleep. "We've got to do something about those pajamas," her mother said. "You're too old for pajamas like that aren't you?" Tilley was pleased to hear her mother say that. "I really don't like them any more," she replied. "I'm not a little girl any more. Am I?" Her mother's face lit up as she ran her eyes over her daughter's upper body, propped up against the pillows. "No, you're not a little girl," she said. "And you haven't been for a long time. I've been watching you develop." "You've been watching me rather a lot, haven't you," Tilley said, laughing. Her mother laughed, too. "Tell you what," she said, "To make up for things, let me give you some new nightwear. Something more appropriate for your age. Something for a woman, not a child. How does that sound? Want to come to my room now? I've got just the thing." Tilley was instantly wide awake. She liked clothes, even though she didn't have that many, and what she did have wasn't sexy or feminine, and she liked the idea of something feminine and grown up to wear in bed. Even if she didn't have anyone to show it off to. Or take it off for. "Sounds good to me," Tilley said. "Come on into my room, then," her mother said. "I've got lots of stuff to show you." Tilley scrambled out of bed and followed her mother to her room. Compared to Tilley's room, it was huge and palatial. Velvet drapes at the window kept the cold night outside where it belonged. The room was deliciously warm and the queen-sized bed looked very inviting with its crisp cotton sheets already turned down and pillowcases all plumped-up and ready. Her mother crossed to a large chest, opened a draw and pulled out a flimsy piece of black satin. She held it up for Tilley to see. Tilley was very impressed. "Wow," she breathed. "That's fantastic. Thanks, mummy." She took the nightdress and ran it through her hands. "It's so lovely," Tilley said. "It's... well, it's grown up, isn't it?" Her mother smiled at her. "Well, you are grown up, my darling. It's just that I haven't been aware of it until now. Not properly, anyway. You're a woman now. It's time for you to wear womanly clothes and do womanly things." She looked a little sad and Tilley went to her, to console her, putting her arms around her. Her mother returned the embrace and kissed her daughter on the cheek. Tilley went to return the kiss, but as she did so, her mother moved and the kiss, instead of landing on her mother's cheek, was planted firmly on her lips. "Oh," Tilley said. "Sorry, mummy." "It's perfectly alright, my darling, don't worry about it. I rally didn't mind!" Tilley and Her Mom Tilley licked her lips, tasting her mother's lipstick. It was a nice taste, not at all like the taste of Tilley's own lipstick. She supposed that was because it tasted of her mother as well as the cosmetic. In which case, her mother tasted good, too! "Why don't you try it on, Tilley?" her mother said. "If you like it, you can wear it tonight." Tilley was very sure that she would like it. "I'll go and try it on now," she said. "I'll be right back." She headed for the door. "You don't need to go back to your room, darling," mother said. "You can change here. We're girls together -- I mean, women together! -- aren't we." "Er, I suppose so," Tilley said, surprised. Her mother had always been very careful about nudity. This was a night for changes, that was for sure! Self consciously, Tilley put the nightdress on the bed and pulled the pajama top over her head, revealing her small breasts. She reached for the nightdress, but her mother stopped her. "Wait," she said. "Let me look at you." She swept her eyes over her daughter, taking in the unblemished white mounds with their perfect pink tips. Her daughter stood there, self-consciously aware of her mother's gaze. She felt her skin prickle and, amazingly, she also felt her nipples begin to stiffen. Which made her even more self-conscious, because when she was aroused, her nipples jutted from their mounds, hard as little thumbs, pointing and asking to be touched, kissed, nibbled... And Tilley now felt very aroused. But why, she wondered, was she so excited now? In front of her mother? "You are so beautiful," the older woman said. "So stunningly beautiful." Tilley looked at the floor, as though studying the pattern in the carpet. She was confused: pleased and rather shy at the same time; wanting her mother to keep looking and yet knowing she ought to cover up. "Take the bottoms off," her mother said, softly. "Please, darling, let me see you. I want to see what a lovely woman you've become." The younger woman looked at her mother for a long moment, then hooked her thumbs into the waistband of the pajama bottoms and with one tug, yanked them down to her ankles. She lifted first one foot, then the other and slipped the bottoms completely off. Tilley stood before her mother completely naked. The older woman gazed at her daughter, feasting her eyes on the flawless skin, the exquisite, pert breasts with their gorgeous pointed nipples, the curvaceous legs with their satin-smooth, welcoming thighs. And the thick thatch of black hair through which could just be seen, her mother thought, the merest glimpse of Tilley's pussy lips. She sighed, went to her daughter and took her in her arms, holding her, stroking the smooth, bare back, moving her hand down to cup first one full, rounded buttock and then the other. Her daughter returned the embrace, burying her face in the side of her mother's neck, nuzzling her. She gave her mother a tentative little kiss, on the soft, sensitive flesh just below the older woman's ear. Then she pulled her head back, looking at her, trying to read her expression to see if she'd gone too far; had done the wrong thing. She hadn't done the wrong thing; the look on her mother's face told her that. It was a look of love and tenderness; and longing. Tilley had seen that look before, many times. From men. Men who wanted her, wanted to move their hands over her body, to squeeze those lovely breasts, to tease her clitoris until she begged for release. And there had been many times when Tilley had been more than happy to let them. But she had never been happier than she was at that moment. Had never been as eager to be caressed and kissed and taken, either hard or gently. She stood back, not shy or nervous now, but reveling in her nudity. She took her mother's face in her hands, leaned forward and kissed her on the lips. Her mother's eyes closed as she felt the soft pressure of her daughter's kiss. Then the lips left hers for a brief moment and then returned, harder this time. She felt her daughter's tongue pushing against her and just for a heartbeat, she froze, suddenly aware of the enormity of what was about to happen. What was already happening. Then the moment was past and she opened her mouth to accept the young woman's tongue. She squirmed with pleasure as her daughter's arms went around her again, as their tongues twined and danced together. And it was a dance of exploration; first Tilley explored her mother's mouth and then her mother explored hers. As her daughter's hands roamed down her back, nails raking and digging through her clothing, she forced one jeans-clad leg between her daughter's naked thighs, rubbing it back and forth against the young woman's sex. She felt the hot wetness pour from her daughter, seeping through the cloth. Tilley clamped her thighs around her mother's leg, trying to trap it. Tilley rubbed herself against her mother's leg, her hips grinding and rotating; making frantic little mewling noises as she sought release. "Let me get my clothes off, darling," her mother gasped. Her throat was dry with lust, her breathing ragged. She disentangled herself from the younger woman's clutching arms and thrusting hips and desperately yanked her sweater over her head. Her large breasts, still confined inside her bra, jiggled in anticipation. "Quickly, mummy," Tilley said. "Please be quick..!" Now free of her sweater, her mother unzipped her jeans, pulled them down and stepped out of them. Tilley took in the sight of her mother, standing there in only her bra and panties. She could see a spreading damp patch at the junction of her mother's ample thighs. "God, mummy, you're beautiful," she said, huskily. Her hands went to her own breasts and pussy, tweaking the nipples and rubbing the hard little clitoris. Her mother unhooked the bra and let it drop to the floor, freeing her full breasts; despite their size, they were firm, the nipples with their wide aureoles, stood proud, jutting, hard with excitement. Then the panties joined the rest of her clothes and the two women stood looking at each other, completely naked: one full-breasted, voluptuous; the other more slender, with smaller though beautifully shaped, firm breasts. Wordlessly, they climbed onto the bed, squirming closer to each other, stroking, touching, and pulling at sensitive, responsive breasts and thighs. Tilley latched her mouth over her mother's right nipple and sucked, flicking her eager pink tongue over the swollen bud. Her mother groaned, pushing her breast up, trying to get even more of the hot, aroused flesh into her daughter's mouth. And when she felt Tilley's hand sweep down her belly, her fingers moving through the crinkly black pubic hair, she threw her legs wide, flexing her knees, opening herself up to her daughter. Neither woman was in the mood for taking things slowly. They wanted each other right now. Tilley's fingers slid between her mother's thick, meaty cunt lips. She opened her mother, rubbing her thumb over the engorged clitoris. Her mother was now writhing in pleasure, begging her daughter not to stop, to do it harder. "Oh, Tilley! You're so good at this. So good! Rub me, darling, rub me! Harder! Harder! Oh, God, yes, yes, yes!" Her voice tailed off as an orgasm ripped through her, making her pussy muscles clench on her daughter's fingers. She arched her back, forcing herself even harder against Tilley's finger, trying to make the penetration even deeper. "Nnn... Ooooh... Aargh... God, yes! That's it..!" she squealed. "That's it..!" Spent, she flopped back on the bed, her breasts heaving, gasping for air, trying to get her racing heart under control. "Oh, God, that was something!" She moaned. "You are unbelievable. You are incredible, do you know that?" She turned to look at her beautiful daughter, whose eyes were still smoldering with lust; her nipples still hard and swollen. Tilley was thrusting her hips back and forth against her mother's hip. The older woman, now she'd regained her senses, knew what her daughter needed. "Oh, Tilley," she said. "Oh, Tilley, you haven't cum, have you? Oh. Darling, I'm so selfish!" She cupped her daughter's small hot breast in her hand, scratching her thumbnail over the nipple. Tilley whimpered. "Oh, mummy," she gasped. "Do it, please. Do me!" "I'm going to do you, Tilley," she said with a loving smile. "I'm going to do you until you beg me to stop. I'm going to do you and do you and do you!" She moved forward and kissed her daughter on the mouth, her tongue probing into the younger woman's mouth, swirling it around. Her hand squeezed Tilley's breast, fingers pinching the nipple, making it even harder, making the her daughter squeal and whimper with pleasure. "Oh, that's good," Tilley moaned when her mother broke the kiss to run her tongue over the rest of the hot mound. "Keep squeezing it, mummy," she pleaded. "Squeeze it harder. As hard as you can." Her mother did, pinching the nipple between her thumb and forefinger, making the other woman shudder and shiver with delight. "Am I hurting you, Tilley?" She asked. "I don't want to hurt you, my darling." "Oh, mummy, it's good," Tilley panted. "Don't worry about hurting me! Just please me!" "Ahh, that's the way you like sex, is it, Tilley?" She grinned. "Is that the way you like to fucked? Do you like to be fucked really hard?" "Yes, yes, yes!" Her mother removed her hand from her daughter's breast, bringing a groan of protest from the younger woman. She replaced the hand with her mouth, her teeth, changing the moan of disappointment to a groan of pleasure. She worried her daughter's breasts with her teeth, small bites that brought gasps of delight from the young woman. She seized each nipple in turn, gripping it with her teeth, shaking it, then releasing it, kissing it and licking it, sucking gently at first and then hard, then using her teeth again, repeating the process over and over. She moved her hand down her daughter's body, stroking the flanks, cupping each buttock in turn, squeezing, then gripping hard, using her nails to bring more gasps of pleasure from Tilley. The young woman ran her hands through her mother's hair, stroking her shoulders, urging her on to provide even more pleasure. "Mummy, mummy, mummy!" She gasped. Her mother kissed down the length of her daughter's body, nipping and licking at the sweat-slick flesh. She slid her hand across the top of Tilley's thighs and then down, forcing the other woman's legs apart before cupping the hot, wet sex. She rubbed the clitoris, paying it the attention it craved, bringing yet more cries and groans of pleasure from Tilley. Then she slid first one finger, then another, into the young woman's slit. "Oooh, mummy, yes!" Tilley groaned. "Yes, yes!" Her mother moved the fingers back and forth in the soaking, ultra-sensitive channel, her thumb rotating on the almost quivering clitoris. She moved her mouth lower on Tilley's body, licking in and around her navel before brushing her lips through Tilley's pubic hair, inhaling the fragrance of Tilley's cunt. She used two fingers to push the younger woman's pussy lips wide open and allowing a third finger, her middle finger, to slide in. Tilley's pussy felt full, fuller than it had ever felt with a man's cock pushed into it. And the way her mother moved her fingers felt a lot better than the pumping, hip-thrusting fucking she was used to. She closed her thighs on her mother's hand, trying to increase the friction on her sex. But when she felt her mother's tongue licking lower, trying to find her clitoris, she threw them wide again, threshing around, gripping her mother's head, trying to force it down to her pussy. When she felt her mother's lips close around her clitoris, Tilley gave a loud squeal of pleasure. "O, my clitty! Oh. Please lick my clitty, mummy!" Her mother obliged; not just licking, but sucking and nibbling, too, though this time, gently. Her finger's maintained their thrusting in and out of Tilley's slit; the young woman's hips jerked up and down, trying to get as much sensation as she could. Her mother's fingers went faster and faster, the heel of her hand slapping against Tilley's flesh with every thrust. "Mmnn," Tilley moaned, "MMNN,!" OH, GOD!" Her voice rose as her climax drew closer. She gripped her mother's head with her thighs, her whole body quivering. Her mother moved her free hand up her daughter's body and seized Tilley's breast, squeezing hard. It drove the younger woman over the top. Her back arched, her eyes closed, her head was thrown back, stretching the tendons in her neck. "Yeeeeeeees..! Yeeeeees..!" She was almost howling as the climax scorched through her. Her mother felt her face engulfed as her daughter came; Tilley's cunt spasmed, the internal muscles closing on her fingers in a vice-like grip. Tilley squirted, hard and copiously, drenching the older woman as well as the bed. Tilley's mother lapped at the outpouring, swallowing, reveling in her daughter's climax. She gave one last thrust with her fingers, bringing a final spasm from the young woman's pussy, and then two of them lay still, gasping for air. At last, wearily, her mother moved up the bed and took her daughter in her arms. She pulled the sheets over them both, oblivious of the fact they were soaked with a mixture of their own sweat and fluid from their orgasms. "Do you know what we've just done, mummy?" Tilley asked, as she squirmed and snuggled against her mother's warm, naked flesh. "We just had sex," her mother replied. And then she changed her mind. "No. It was more than that; we made love." She felt Tilley's soft warm breath against her as she held her close. "And I do love you, mummy," Tilley said. "I love you too, darling Tilley," her mother replied. "Where do we go from here?" Her mother chuckled, throatily. "We'll have to see, won't we," she said. "But I think I've got a good idea, don't you?" And then the two women, still in each other's arms, slept.