Please do not post my email headers, but please post my email address. This story is for the lesbian/incest and lesbian/urination sections.
TAXI RIDE (FF, incest, pissing)
Feedback is certainly welcomed! misanthropy_philanthropy@gmail.com
My daughter Miranda (Mandy) and I had always been a little flirty with each other in the way that many mothers and daughters are. Not really in a sexual way, but in a sort of teasing, who-dares-to-go-further kind of way. For example, when she was a young teenager and I was going on my first dates after my divorce from her father, she would watch me get dressed and urge me to wear a lower neckline and a higher hemline. I would do the same when she started going on dates, just as a joke. We would wait up for each other at night and grill each other with questions and accusations. She would accuse me of being a slut, and I would accuse her of flaunting her perky teen breasts at any male she saw. This was all a huge joke to us, of course.
Once, when I came home quite intoxicated and somewhat disheveled (though in a good mood, since my date had been an excellent fuck), Mandy helped me undress. I remember that it seemed like she was groping me, and I think I accused her of doing just that, albeit with good humor. She responded -- and I remember this clearly -- by cupping and squeezing my heavy, hanging breasts that she had just released from my brassiere while standing behind me. "No, Mom, I'm not groping you," she said with an innocent little-girl voice, and the contrast between word and deed was so extreme that all we could do was laugh.
That was a long time ago, though. Since then I have remarried and Mandy has moved away. Recently I went to visit her in Chicago where she now lives and works at a public relations firm. We made plans to paint the town red with some of her friends and by the end of the evening we were both more than a little drunk.
Mandy hailed a cab with no trouble -- she stood ten feet away from the curb and flailed her arm, and since she was wearing a black leather miniskirt and a nearly-unbuttoned white halter top with a black bra visible beneath, a cab stopped immediately. An older Indian Sikh was driving and greeted us perfunctorily but politely. Mandy's best friend Gina sat in the front with the driver while her co-workers Sandra and Tiarra sat in the back with me.
"Where am I going to sit?" Mandy said, still standing in front of the cab, her slender hairless legs shining in the headlights.
"Sit on my lap, sweetie," I called through the open window. Her friends thought that was hilarious but Mandy stumbled over, opened my door and squeezed herself onto my lap. We had to rearrange our feet (Mandy had to take off her stiletto heels) but eventually we were all cozily ensconced in the back.
The ride home was quite bumpy and Mandy was wobbling around on my lap. Along with Sandra and Tiarra, I did my best to keep my daughter upright. We were all teary-eyed from laughter.
Tiarra was the first to go. She gave us a $20 for her share of the fare and tip, blew kisses to everyone, and made her way up the front steps of her apartment building. Our driver pulled sharply away from the curb, causing Mandy to slide across my lap. Her hands shot out to steady herself -- and her right hand clutched my breast.
"Ouch!" I cried. "That's not a handle!"
Mandy and Sandra dissolved into drunken giggles. "I'm sorry, Mama," Mandy gasped. Her painful grip had changed into a gentle caress. "Is that better?"
"They're big enough to be handles," Sandra observed. It was true -- I had the largest breasts in the taxi, size 40DD. They were packed somewhat uncomfortably into my underwire bra, and as usual the wire was making my breasts ache. My daughter's drunken grab hadn't made matters any better, although her playful caress was starting to fill me with a different kind of feeling.
I eased her hand away. "You are SO drunk, Mandy," I said jokingly.
"Your nipples are SO hard, Mom," she said back, and as I looked down and confirmed what she had said, she and Sandra shrieked with laughter. My nipples are not exceptionally large, but with this particular bra, when they get erect they are noticeable.
"So are yours," I said, reaching up to pinch one of her prominent nipples poking through the fabric of her black silk bra. Her white blouse had slid off her right shoulder and I caught the cabdriver's eye in the rear view mirror. He was enjoying the show, Sikh or not.
"You two are scandalous," said Sandra. "Mandy, why are you even still on your mother's lap? I'll scoot over."
"She's warm," Mandy replied, "plus I like my mama. You don't like my mama?"
Before Sandra could answer, Mandy practically interrupted herself by yelling "I gotta PEE! Are we there yet?"
A few minutes later we dropped off Sandra at her home in the suburban North Side. Then it was back to the Loop to get to Mandy's small but neat condo in an anonymous brown Wicker Park building.
Suddenly I felt a warm dampness in my lap. I reached down without thinking and ended up with my hand between Mandy's legs. I could feel a warm stream of urine hissing out of her cunt and onto my fingers, where it trickled onto my skirt and soaked my thighs.
"Oh my god, Mandy!" I exclaimed, looking up at her. Her eyes were closed and she was biting her lip -- the classic look of total concentration. Without opening her eyes, she leaned over and placed her lips against my ear to whisper, "Shhh, I'm peeing."
I have never really been into watersports as a fetish, though I admit to sometimes allowing a small trickle of urine while I masturbate just to enjoy the extra warmth and moisture, but the combination of Mandy's warm pee and her hot breath in my ear gave me a tremendous and undeniably sexual rush. I nuzzled her neck and whispered, "Just wait until we get home, sweetie. You're in big trouble."
"Ohhh ..." she murmured in response. "Are you gonna spank me, Mommy?"
The little-girl voice that she used somehow doubled my excitement. "If you're lucky," I whispered back.
She cuddled closer to me and rested her head on my shoulder. I allowed my damp knuckles to stroke subtly against her thighs until I was brushing against her wet pubic hair. The little tramp wasn't even wearing underwear. I couldn't help but think of all our little egging-on jokes so many years ago. Was this the end result?
"Here's your stop, girls," called Gina from the front seat. "Good luck getting her sobered up," she said as I somehow managed to fish two ten dollar bills out of my purse with Mandy still on my lap and curled against my body.
"See you on Monday, Mandy!" Gina called from her window as the cabbie pulled away.
"Where's your key, sweetie?" I asked.
"Mmmm, purse," my daughter murmured, then gave a low, throaty laugh and waved her shoes in the air. I extracted the slim magnetic-strip card and got us into the building and the elevator.
As soon as the door closed, Mandy put her arms around my neck and rested her head between my breasts. "Oh God, I gotta pee again," she moaned.
"Oh, just wait until we get into your condo, sweetie, OK?" I talked to her as the elevator rose to her floor, then talked her down the hallway. I used the same card to open her front door. Once inside, she leaned against the wall while I shut the door and turned to face her.
"Look at us. We're both soaked with urine," I said, trying to sound like an annoyed mother. In response, Mandy started sliding down the wall, and I lunged forward to catch her, but she had too much momentum and we ended up in a tangled mess on the floor.
I was on the bottom leaning half against the wall and half against the front door. Mandy was on top, facing me, partially squatting but with one hand behind her holding herself somewhat upright. Her skirt had hiked all the way up to her waist and her cunt was visible to me for the first time.
I had not seen my daughter's genitals at this close distance since I had bathed her as a child. We had seen each other nude in passing several times in her adolescence, but never like this, and certainly not once she was an adult.
The honey-colored hair on her mons matched the hair on her head in color alone. Unlike the long, straight head of hair that Mandy had been proud of for years, her pubic hair was short and somewhat curly. Her labia were plainly visible and open to reveal a glistening crimson slit and prominent clitoris.
"My pussy," she said in that low voice again, noticing where my attention was directed. "Gonna do it again."
She closed her eyes and bit her lower lip, and I knew what was coming and did not try to stop it. A hot jet of musky golden liquid sprayed from her cunt and onto my skirt and shirt. I held her hips and watched, and Mandy managed to raise herself up from her half-squat to a sort of hunched-over standing position, and her urine sprayed across my breasts. And God help me, I opened my shirt to better receive the flow. I loved the feel of this salty intimate fluid drenching my breasts, soaking my bra and marinating my nipples, which now felt more erect than ever. I smiled up at Mandy only to see that she was leering down at me.
As the flow slowed to a trickle, she slumped forward and caught herself by slapping her hands against the wall. I slid forward between her legs, then stood up and hugged her from behind.
"You're very naughty," I said, for lack of anything better to say.
In response, Mandy turned around and kissed me with such savagery that I stumbled back a step. Her tongue pressed fiercely against mine and her arms squeezed our bodies together. At first I tensed up with surprise, but soon I relaxed in my daughter's arms and returned her kiss.
As our tongues and lips danced and swirled together, Mandy's hands slid down my back and raised the hem of my skirt to my waist. She cupped my round, panty-clad asscheeks in her hands, and I felt a moment of insecurity -- would she be repulsed by my fat middle-aged butt? The hesitation was replaced by excitement as she squeezed and pinched every inch of my ass, sliding her fingers underneath the panties to explore my crack, then moving one hand around to the front to cup my vulva in her palm.
My hands were still stroking her back repeatedly, not venturing below her waist, because I was waiting to see how far this would go. When she finally knelt in front of me and slid my panties down to my knees, I realized it would go all the way.
"Mama!" she exclaimed. "Your pussy is shaved!"
It was true. My new husband preferred a hairless cunt and I shaved it bare for him, but soon I had been shaving it for myself as well. I discovered that I liked my cunt hair-free, and the enthusiasm with which he ate me to orgasm on a nightly basis didn't hurt, either. And here was my daughter staring at my motherly cunt, and parting the lips with her index fingers.
"Look at that fucking clit," she breathed, then shoved her face against my crotch and rubbed her cheeks, nose, lips and chin all over my dripping, burning cunt.
My knees buckled and I held her head for balance while she vigorously ate my cunt. This was utterly thrilling, surely the worst (and best) thing I had ever done, and I was nearly delirious with the tremendous joy of the taboo act in which I was engaged. My own daughter, sucking my cunt, the very cunt from which she had first come into the world. My cunt. Her mouth. Oh god.
I shut my eyes and felt the orgasm hit like a tsunami. I bucked against her face -- her hair became a convenient handlebar for my clenched fists -- and threw my head back, knocking the crown of my skull against the hallway wall, which strangely made me cum even harder, with bright stars exploding behind my tightly clenched eyes and wave after wave of hot white orgasms expanding from my cunt.
Finally I let myself slide to the floor and Mandy moved up to kiss me, and when I tasted my own cunt on my daughter's tongue I hugged her fiercely and wrapped my thighs around her bare hips.
The kiss and the embrace were like a warm fire after a volcanic eruption; the heat generated was strong, but not nearly as intense as what had come before. Soon our open-mouthed tonguing turned into pecks on the cheeks interspersed with girlish giggles.
"Bedroom?" Mandy finally whispered into my ear.
"Yes, but bathroom first," I said. We rose to our feet, light-headed and loose-limbed, and made our way down the hall to Mandy's immaculate bathroom. A claw-footed tub dominated one side of the chamber and Mandy stepped over the side, then lay flat on the bottom of the tub, knees bent, arms scrunched at her sides.
"On me," she said. "On my clothes."
My panties were still around one ankle. I kicked them off dramatically -- they fell into the tub with Mandy, who sniffed them and sucked the crotch into her mouth, her eyes rolling back into her head.
I unbuttoned my skirt and stepped out of it, then kicked off my heels as I stripped off my shirt. Last to go was my wet bra, and when my heavy, glistening breasts were revealed at last, Mandy raised her arms and beckoned like a child asking to be picked up.
I stepped into the tub, placing my bare feet on either side of her urine-sodden miniskirt bunched around her waist, and squatted over her torso.
"No, turn around," Mandy said, trying to spin my hips with her hands. I stood and did as she asked, then squatted again. Now my ass and cunt were hanging over her breasts.
"Your pussy is so beautiful," she moaned, rubbing my ass and labia with her hands.
"You mean my fucking cunt," I said, gripping her thighs with my hands as I released the torrent of urine that had been building up inside of me.
I peered down between my knees to witness the spectacle. I was pissing on my daughter's breasts and the hot spray was splashing her face, her chin, her open mouth and extended tongue. The urine ran down her sides and pooled beneath her. I used two fingers to massage her clit as my bladder drained and she trembled with orgasm as the golden flow turned to a slow trickle. Mandy sat up just enough to place her lips around my labia and suck the last few drops of alcohol-flavored piss out of my hairless cunt.
I shuddered as she delved further into me with her tongue and grunted with pleasure when she slid one of her wet fingers into my asshole. The extra stimulation and the smell of my own urine brought me to a quivering orgasm rapidly, and when I stood up in that tub I nearly blacked out from the blood rush.
Mandy stood up behind me and we both removed her clothes. Once they sat in a sopping pile in the bottom of the tub, we embraced and kissed again, and it was yet another new delightful sensation, to feel our wet bare breasts rubbing together as our hands explored our now-familiar bodies.
We showered then and washed away the residual sticky strong-smelling piss on our bodies. As we dried off with fluffy towels, Mandy asked me if I would shave her bare, as I was, and I happily agreed.
We brought her disposable razors, washcloth, shaving gel, scissors and towel into the bedroom, along with a bowl of warm water from the kitchen. I spread the towel on the edge of the bed and she sat on it, spreading her legs as wide as she could, and I could not resist kissing her cunt while she played with my hair.
I trimmed the short curly hairs as best as I could, then covered her cunt with gel, stimulating her as much as I could. Her legs, bent at the knees and spread wide, suddenly stiffened and clamped around my hand as she shuddered and bucked and moaned, and before I could say anything she raised her head and said "You are so good at making me cum, Mom," and the incongruity of it made us both laugh.
As I shaved away the remaining stubble, I had some sober thoughts that I decided to share with her.
"What are we going to do after this?" I began.
She giggled. "Probably have sex again. Maybe a 69."
"Well ... that sounds delightful ... and I'm not saying I don't want to. But I mean -- what's going to happen to us, as mother and daughter, after we sober up and wake up in the morning?"
Silence from Mandy. Perhaps she's more sober than she seemed, I thought. I continued with the shaving and the thinking aloud.
"Sweetie, I've had relationships with women before, but not when I was married. And tonight ... was really incredible. And I'm not saying that it's over, because when I finish shaving you I am definitely going to make you cum again, but can we really keep on this way?"
I didn't wait for an answer. "It's not as bad as it seems. I mean, you live in Chicago and I'm hundreds of miles away, so it won't be awkward on a daily basis, but how can we act as mother and daughter at Christmas, for example, after we have traded golden showers and had wonderful oral sex? Mandy, the next time I see you, I won't be able to think about anything but what happened tonight, and how wonderful it was ... and how it probably changed our relationship forever. Time to rinse."
I took the washcloth and wiped away the foamy gel and loose hairs, then dampened a corner of it and wiped her cunt completely clean. The hairless labia and mons glistened with promise like a monument unearthed and cleaned by faithful archaeologists. I wanted to taste her, to eat her, to possess her in a way that mothers weren't supposed to possess their daughters. To consume her; to know her in the ultimate way; to be her lover and her mother, now and forever.
"All done, sweetie," I said, standing up and leaning over to kiss her. But she was sound asleep, passed out at last with a small grin on her lips.
As her mother, I tucked her into bed alongside me; as her lover, I rubbed my finger against her wet and hairless slit until she woke up crying out with come and love. I kissed her and caressed her, as mother and lover, until she fell asleep in my arms.
THE END
Feedback is certainly welcomed! misanthropy_philanthropy@gmail.com