I remember it was raining that October afternoon, the day’s gloom heralding winter. Sitting on the couch before the fireplace, I lowered my eyes for at least the tenth time to the Polaroid photos I held in my hand.
One of the young women in the snapshots was unfamiliar to me, but the one kneeling between the stranger’s legs looked all too recognizable. It was my stepdaughter Cassandra, twenty-two years old, home from university for the weekend. Even though Cassie’s face was buried in the other woman’s exposed pussy in most photos, her identity left no room for doubt. Or what she was doing, for that matter.
As shocked as I was by these photos discovered in my stepdaughter’s old drawer, I felt a strange tremor—not unpleasant—deep in my belly as I gazed at them.
Sighing, I tilted my head back against the couch and closed my eyes. After all, Cassie did date men, I told myself. The phone we’d gifted her years earlier rang constantly when she was home. Most often, when I answered for her, it was an eager boy on the line. Of course, women called her too, but Cassie had so many friends I’d never given it much thought.
I reopened my eyes and looked at the photos again. The woman receiving my stepdaughter’s cunnilingus was quite pretty. Short blonde hair and a cute face, perched on the edge of a chair with her skirt hiked to her waist, legs spread wide. A faint smile played on her lips, as though she took immense pleasure in what Cassie was doing. The fingers of one hand had tangled in my stepdaughter’s brunette hair, as if encouraging her.
I vaguely wondered who’d taken the photos while unconsciously unzipping my jeans. Barely aware of my actions, I stared at the explicit images as I slid my free hand beneath my panties’ elastic. Brushing my pubic hair, my fingers traced the curve of my sex and began lightly stroking my swollen lips.
My breathing quickened when my index fingertip found the bulge of my clit, and suddenly I was masturbating fervently. So absorbed in the sensations, I didn’t even hear the front door open when my stepdaughter returned. I only realized her presence when she burst out laughing.
“Stepmom? In broad daylight?”
I yanked my hand from my panties and jerked upright on the couch, frantically trying to rezip my jeans. My eyes bulged as I stared at the blonde removing her coat by the door.
“Cassandra,” I said weakly, “what are you doing here? I thought you were with friends!” I glanced at the wall clock. “It’s only half past noon… why are you back so early?”
“Relax, stepmom,” she said, that laughter still in her voice. “We cut our plans short because of the rain.”
Then, as she approached, she noticed the photos I still held. I literally watched her face pale and her laughter die.
“Oh wow… how’d you find those? I thought I’d hidden them.” She sat beside me on the couch and took them from my hands. Then understanding flashed in her eyes. “Oh wow… these turned you on, huh? Those pics of Barb and me got you hot. That’s why you were here getting off, right?”
I knew no lie could extract me from this predicament. Everything my stepdaughter said was true.
“Yes,” I admitted, feeling heat flood my cheeks. “I suppose so, sweetheart. But Cassie… do you… I mean… are you…”
“If I’m a lesbian?” she finished my question. “No, I’m just bi, I guess. I like guys too, but I enjoy variety. Barb and I have fun together sometimes, like in the photos. Hey! That reminds me—why were you going through my stuff?”
“I wasn’t snooping, sweetheart!” I protested. “I was looking for things to donate. I found the photos by accident.”
I suddenly realized Cassie was staring at my crotch. Looking down, I saw I hadn’t properly closed my jeans. The open fly revealed my panties and the dark shadow of my pubic hair. Yet I made no move to cover myself.
“That woman in the photos,” I heard myself say. “Barbara? She’s… she’s very pretty.” Even as I spoke, I couldn’t stop my gaze from drifting to the front of my stepdaughter’s sweater. I could make out the small points of her nipples and realized she wasn’t wearing a bra.
“She’s very pretty,” I repeated, a shiver running down my spine as I reluctantly looked up.
“Yeah,” Cassie whispered, her eyes now locked on mine. “She is.”
She shifted closer on the couch, casually resting her hand on my denim-clad knee. “I could call her if you want. She lives a few blocks away. Would you like me to invite her?”
My heart raced, words failing me. “It’s still raining outside. She’ll get soaked. And I… I…”
What I meant to say vanished as Cassie suddenly leaned in to kiss me, taking me so by surprise I offered no resistance. Instead, I found myself kissing her back eagerly, parting my lips to let her tongue slide into my mouth.
I mewled like a kitten when her hand left my knee to slip inside my half-open jeans, her fingers grazing my hypersensitive, swollen lips—only the thin fabric of my panties separating our skin.
Then with a skill that stunned me, Cassie worked her hand into my panties’ crotch and a finger plunged deep into my pussy. I heard myself moan with pleasure as my stepdaughter began fingering me and I sucked her tongue with even greater frenzy…