My Early Life
by Michelle C.
1. Awakenings
Sometimes—this is before we bought the House—Mommy would let me snuggle with her after she got home from entertaining her clients. That started when I was—oh, I don't know—about ten, I guess.
Mommy would peek into my room. I was usually awake, because I'd heard her come in, but I pretended I was asleep. She'd tip-toe in and sit on the edge of my bed and stroke my hair. I'd turn over drowsily so I could look up at her in the gold of the night light. Her long blond hair seemed to glow.
"How's my baby? Sweet dreams?" she'd ask. "Oh, Mommy, I'm so glad you're home," I'd say, sitting up and wrapping my arms around her and burying my head in her perfumey shoulder. I loved the way Mommy smelled: sweet, but with a mix of all kinds of smells I was to young yet to identify. "Kiss me, Mommy, please," I'd say. And she'd lift my head and kiss me, exploring my mouth with her wonderful tongue, and I'd taste her lipstick and all sorts of wonderful things. I'd mumble, "More," and she'd stick her tongue in deeper and I'd suck on it, wanting more and more Mommy taste. "My little oral baby," she'd say. It always made me giggle. I'd brush the hair from my face and put on my best little girl pout and say, "Milk, Mommy, please." She'd sigh, unbutton her blouse and undo the front snap of her bra. Mommy didn't like hormones, so her breasts were small, with puffy aureoles and long nipples from the breast pump she used every day.
I loved sucking on Mommy's nipples and giving them little love bites. One night after she'd been out really late —it was just before my 12th birthday—I was contentedly suckling her whenshe said, "Wait, honey, let Mommy lie down." She stood up and took off her blouse and bra and shimmied out of her skirt—a little flared skirt with a tartan pattern; I loved to see her in that skirt. She kicked off her high-heeled pumps and lay down next to me. It was a hot, hot night, and she pulled away the covers and I gave a squeal and pushed my little body against hers. I loved the feel of her thigh-high nylons on my bare legs. I wrapped my hands around her waist and pushed and pushed against her, moving my hand down and feeling the cool nylon of her panties. She pushed against me while we kissed and then I felt her hand behind me, under my pink babydolls, caressing my little bottom through my night-time panties.
She broke the kiss. "Take your panties off for Mommy, sweetheart. You take yours off and Mommy'll take hers off too." We sat up and squirmed out of our panties. My clitty sprang free; I could feel the humid air on it, it was so alive. "Mommy's pretty well tucked," she laughed as she pulled her own clitty from between her legs, and let her soft, hairless balls drop from their secret hiding place. "Oh, Mommy, you're so beautiful," I said. Except for a little tuft of blond hair, Mommy always kept herself perfectly shaved. She was petite, and proud of it. "Real men should be nice and big. And we, we should be nice and dainty," she would always say. I didn't wait an instant. I dove down to nuzzle her. I buried my face in her as she fell back on the bed.
It had been a long, hot night, and Mommy was wonderfully sweaty. I licked at the juncture of her thighs where it was the wettest. I reveled in the taste and smell of her: Mommy taste, Mommy smell. Musky, rich, sweet. Other mysterious smells and tastes I wouldn't understand for a couple of years yet, but which drove me a little crazy. As I licked her, Mommy played with my bottom, running her finger first lightly, then harder between my cheeks. I made a high-pitched moan and arched my back to make it easier for her, and to let her know I liked it. As I licked her balls, getting as much of her as I could, she let her finger linger on my little rosebud, pressing lightly, sending shivers down my spine.
I moved to her clitty, nursing, taking almost its full length in my mouth. New tastes and smells. I didn't really know back then just how Mommy entertained her clients, but somehow I knew that I was tasting them, and her, too, and it excited me immensely. "Hold on, honey," she said, and moved her finger to my mouth. "Make it nice and wet for Mommy," she said. I tasted just a hint of myself as I sucked and wetted her finger. "Good girl," she said, and I snuggled back to her clitty. As I nursed I felt her finger return to my rosebud. She began pressing harder, until her fingertip popped into me. "Oh," I said, "that feels so good, Mommy." Still nursing, I reached back and pushed her hand into me, driving her finger deeper. It was heavenly. All there was in the whole world was Mommy's clitty in my mouth and the taste and the moist smells and her finger moving into me, harder, deeper, squirming, withdrawing and pushing further until I was bucking like a pony and sucking her harder and then she threw her head back and shuddered and my mouth was full of her juice, a new taste, so glorious and smooth, and I sucked, wanting more, more, more, I wanted her to fill my belly, and her finger thrust deeper into me and I shuddered, too, and everything stopped and I saw red, and stars, and my whole body was alive for the first time, and then some juice spurted from my little clitty, just like Mommy, and I almost screamed.
We sunk back on the pillows. "Oh, my little baby," she whispered. "We came together. How sweet." I giggled, still relishing her juice in my mouth. I didn't know just what she meant, but I was so happy to make her happy. "And she came without me even touching her," she said dreamily, looking up at the ceiling. "A natural. I've got a natural on my hands."
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