Novel Square
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STORY TITLE:
OUR MUTUAL SEXUAL DESIRES (enjoy reading)
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Saturday 22nd October 2022: just after 9. 15 am
Fiona’s mouth was dry, and her head felt thick with the effects of way too much alcohol. She felt a dull throbbing between her ears as she rolled onto her back. Unexpectedly, her right arm and shoulder made contact with another person, she froze for a moment; not daring to look at the person with whom she was sharing a bed. The first thought that flashed through her mind was that she’d got drunk and fucked some man; God, she hoped it was a stranger she’d picked up, and not someone she knew. Then she slowly became aware that she was in Annabelle’s room, and the body lying next to her was her eighteen year old daughter of that name.NôvelDrama.Org exclusive content.
Disjointed memories struggled to the surface of her mind. She vaguely recollected being held by Annabelle, and pleading with her, and drinking, how much had she drunk? Then she remembered being helped upstairs by her, and clothes being tugged at and removed. She rolled back onto her left side, and tried hard to piece these memories together, as she did so, Annabelle stirred and cuddled into her back, nuzzling her neck just below her ear.
A sudden sense of panic came over Fiona, her mind was still in complete turmoil; what the fuck had happened? She began to suspect the very worst, and then immediately tried to push it out of her mind, but before she could convince herself that there must be an innocent explanation for finding herself in bed with her daughter, Annabelle caressed her shoulder, lazily swept her hand down over her breasts, traced her finger tips across her abdomen, and cupped her hairy mound. With her daughter’s nipples pressing into her back, and her fingers clutching her pussy, Fiona understood, in that moment, that she had been involved in something depraved and very, very wrong.
“Morning Mother, my God you’re an incredible fuck,” drawled a sleepy Annabelle.
“Oh shit, what the fuck happened? Shit! Annabelle for God’s sake…” cried an fearful Fiona as she quickly got out of bed, picked up her navy-blue, pinstriped miniskirt that was lying on the floor, and clutched it to her naked body in a futile attempt to protect her modesty.
“Mother! Don’t be coy, you knew exactly what was happening last night when I ate your pussy.”
“Oh my God! Please don’t joke Annabelle, this isn’t funny, I couldn’t, I wouldn’t…”
“You did mother, we did. Do you really not remember? Oh my God, you don’t do you?”
“Annabelle, please don’t…”
“What do you want me to say? We ate each other’s pussies last night mother, it was incredible, I’ve been trying to get you into bed for months, you know I have. We started kissing in the kitchen, and I finally got you where I wanted you, on your back, underneath me.”
“Oh God!”
Fiona left her daughter’s bedroom with considerable haste, and locked herself in the main bathroom. She sat forlornly on the toilet seat, still clutching her short pencil skirt to her breasts. She felt sick with the effects of alcohol and the slowly dawning realisation of what had happened last night.
She closed her eyes, and images of her lustful deprivation started to fall into place. She remembered trying, half heartedly, to resist her daughter’s sexual advances, struggling with the immorality of her desire to be fucked by her. She remembered the moment that her resistance broke, when Annabelle pressed her fingers against her pussy through her skirt. She gave a low moan as she realised that she had at last yielded to her daughter, had consented to their sexual union.
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Six months earlier:
It had all started on her daughter’s eighteenth birthday. Annabelle had always been a precocious child, she was clever, Fiona realised early on that she could be manipulative. After her husband left them, when Annabelle was eight-years-old, Fiona had brought up her daughter on her own. It hadn’t been easy, as a partner in a successful firm of solicitors, she often worked long hours, and had to rely on childcare for much of Annabelle’s upbringing.
Annabelle had gone through a ‘wild’ period in her teens, she was often in trouble, took to smoking the occasional joint, managed to get herself expelled from the expensive private school that her mother had got her into, and had reduced more than one nanny to tears.
Despite all her troubles, she managed eventually to get decent enough grades to get a place in higher education. She was in no rush though, on her eighteenth birthday, she announced to her mother that she would delay university for a year, so that she could continue to live with her, and ‘make up for lost time.’ When Fiona asked her what she meant, Annabelle gave her one of her enigmatic smiles, and said that she was old enough now to understand the sacrifices that she had made for her, and she wanted to get ‘closer’ to her, before she made her own way in the world.
Annabelle wasn’t entirely sure why she felt that way, without realising it, she’d begun to develop a deep crush on her mother. In the last few months, she’d started to see her not only as her mother, but also as a woman. She admired her, she loved that her mother was so successful in her profession, she loved her style and the clothes that she wore; she was proud of her mother and wanted to be associated with her.
This was a marked change from the indifference that she felt towards her mother in her early and mid teens. She no longer saw Fiona as someone who made her life unnecessarily difficult, who didn’t understand her; in short, Annabelle had grown up.
Fiona had noticed the gradual change in her daughter’s attitude towards her. She didn’t necessarily understand it, but it pleased her. Her beautiful, troublesome daughter had grown into someone she could be proud of. She felt a warm glow at the thought of Annabelle wanting to take a year at home with her before going to university.
Annabelle was keen not to waste the year doing nothing, a few days after announcing that she wanted to get to know her mother better, she told her that she’d find a job, so that she could support herself financially.
“Have you got any idea what sort of thing you’d like to do darling?”
“I don’t know really, perhaps waitressing, or a working in a supermarket, it doesn’t matter really.”
“If you like, and I hope you don’t think I’m interfering, but, I could ask a couple of our rival law firms if they’ve got anything suitable. It would only be junior clerical work, nothing too onerous, but it might be ideal for twelve months or so.”
“Yes please do, that would be perfect. I’d be home before you each day, so I could cook dinner and tidy the house for you.”
“Dinner would be lovely darling, but I don’t want you to put the cleaner out of work.”
“Oh I’d be sure to leave Tina enough to do, I’d just like to be useful to you that’s all.”
“Good, well that’s settled then, I’ll make a couple of phone calls tomorrow and we’ll see what there is for you.”
Fiona was as good as her word, on the following afternoon, she sent Annabelle a WhatsApp message, with news of a job that she’d managed to arrange for her, at one of the legal firms operating in the city; just down the road from her office. Annabelle was thrilled by the news and couldn’t wait for her mother to come home from work.
She’d been busy during the day, tidying around the house, and preparing dinner, then she changed into her best tight jeans, a tight long sleeved top, and white trainers; she wanted to make an effort for her mother.
She played with her long, dark-red hair as she waited expectantly for Fiona to return home from work. She heard her car pull onto the driveway and she looked out of the lounge window. The evening sun reflected off the car windows as she watched her mother open the driver’s door, and place one shapely leg on the driveway, while she’d looked distractedly at her phone; the other leg was still in the footwell. Fiona’s pinstriped skirt rode up and pulled taut across her thighs, there was a flash of stocking tops as she eventually swivelled out of the car seat, unaware that anyone was watching her. Annabelle felt a little flutter in her chest as she watched her mother stride confidently in her high heels towards the front door.
The door opened and Fiona found her daughter waiting for her in the hallway; green eyes shining and full of anticipation. She dropped her briefcase next to the umbrella stand and smiled at her.
“Hello darling, are you pleased with your mother then?”
“Oh yes, it’s fantastic mother, I’m so grateful to you, thank you so much,” cried Annabelle as she embraced her mother for a long moment. She loved the feminine feel of her mother, the waft of scent, the pretty lace bra peeping out of her blouse, and the discreet amount of alluring cleavage.
“So what have you been up to today?” asked Fiona as her daughter released her from her embrace.
“I’ve made us a chicken caesar salad, and I’ve tidied up the house.”
“Wonderful, I could get used to this. You look nice, are you going out after dinner?”
“Yes, I’m meeting Sophie, we’re going to see a film at the arts centre.”
“Lovely, what are you going to see?”
“‘Carol,’ it’s based on a Patricia Highsmith novel. I’ve heard good things about it, we’ve both read the book so we thought we’d see how the film compares.”
“I see… I read the book years ago, it was quite groundbreaking in its time, subtle eroticism too? Do I sense that there’s another conversation about your sexuality on the horizon.”
“Mother, please can we not talk about it now?”
“Of course darling, I didn’t mean to pry, you know I’m always here if you want to talk about anything. Despite appearances, I’ve had some interesting life experiences that might surprise you.”
They chatted as they ate dinner, Annabelle insisted on clearing up afterwards, and Fiona changed out of her formal skirt suit, into a pair of tight black leggings and a loose fitting dark-green top. Annabelle made a fuss of how sexy her mother looked in her casual attire, with her hazel coloured eyes and shoulder length auburn hair. She told her that she’d look gorgeous in just a bin bag. Then she went upstairs and swapped her white trainers for black stilettos, put on some makeup, and, when Sophie’s car appeared on the driveway, kissed her mother on the cheek, and slinked out in her heels and skin tight jeans, to be picked up by her friend.
Now it was Fiona’s turn to watch from the lounge window and wonder where this grown up, sensual, stunning young woman had suddenly come from. She wondered whether Annabelle had slept with Sophie yet, she’d told her mother several weeks earlier that she thought she preferred women. A not completely surprised Fiona had been supportive and told her that, if she wasn’t sure, she should take her time finding out.