Flow

As Amy flew into the air, the trampoline sending her to dizzying heights, she became painfully aware of just how sharp and pointy the cold seemed to have made her breasts. She winced as she came down on knee and the rough wool of her shirt rubbed against her already sensitive aureolas.

This young woman, barely an adult, had alway been self-conscious about her looks, her chest in particular. Before the age of sixteen she had been as flat as any boy; flatter, if anyone asked her.

It seemed to have happened overnight; as though she had gone to bed without a bosom and been magically transformed overnight. She recalled stepping out of the shower and having to run the mirror free of steam just so that she could stare at herself.

Soon thereafter her mother, strict and demanding, had forbidden her to play with any of the boys as she had done before. Amy had wondered about it but didn't seem to care as long as she had someone to play with.

The young woman turned to get off the still shaking material when she saw a flash of flesh through the bushes to her left. She might have left it at that if she hadn't heard the giggling; something about it caused her stomach to grow butterflies and so she got down on all knees and carefully crawled over towards the voices' source.

Amy slid her hands between the bushes and carefully inserted her head into the gap so as not to get any leaves or twigs in her carefully brushed blonde hair; her mother would have a fit if she got anything into it. What she saw brought a gasp to her lips that she barely managed to stifle.

In the next yard over were a young couple, a few years younger than her, freshmen in college perhaps, enjoying the comforts of each other's body in a rather explicit fashion. Her eyes grew wide and she put one hand over her heart, amazed at how quickly it was beating.

Biting down on her lower lip, she dared to go back for another look and watched in awe as the woman bounced up and down man's lap. Her eyes went almost immediately to the other woman's bouncing bosom and her eyes narrowed in jealousy. Suddenly she was filled with hate; her mother had always told her how small her breasts were, was always pointing out how pitiful they were, though, in truth, they were at least as large as her mother's.

The skin around her breasts seemed to tighten as she breathed and, without thinking, she slid one hand under her shirt to caress her poor breasts. The cool sensation of her hands on her warm breasts caused her nipples to stiffen even further and she quickly began rubbing for the simple pleasure of it.

Soon her other hand slid beneath her shirt to begin caressing her other breast. Amy fell back onto the trampoline and just sat there for what seemed an eternity before opening her eyes.

Lifting her head she looked down at her shorts, she realized that she had grown quite wet while she had been massaging herself. Her tongue flicked out to moisten her now dry lips. Tentatively she touched a finger to the thin fabric covering her crotch, amazed when it came back wet. Her mother's many warnings and threats fell quiet as she slowly touched the tip to her tongue.

It was a strange, alien taste but not an unwelcome one, she quickly realized as she slid her long, delicate fingers beneath her shorts and over her panties. Withdrawing them she saw that there was even more liquid to be had.

Again she slid her fingers into her mouth, taking her time as she was determined to savor it this time around. Her tongue wrapped around her forefinger and drew her juices into her mouth. The corner of her mouth turned up in a smile and she was ready to delve deeper into her depths when she heard a loud gasp.

Quickly Amy climbed to her knees and felt her jaw drop as she watched the young man slide his tongue between the woman's legs, his tongue deftly licking at her sex. She looked down at her own shorts and wondered if anyone would ever do that for her.

When the couple disappeared back into their home, laughing and grabbing at each other, Amy turned around and realized that she was out where anyone could see her from inside the house. The young blonde quickly dismounted the trampoline and pulled one of the lawn chairs out onto the side of the house under the old oak tree.

Dropping into the cheap plastic, she braced herself against the chair's back with her feet and spread her legs wide open. She slid her hand down beneath her panties and in between her pussy lips, pausing as her lips closed around her digit.

She slid it in and out a few times, tightening her jaw as she did her best not to groan with each passing. The sensation was like nothing she had ever felt before; mother had always said that good girls have nothing to do down there.

Her hand took on a mind of its own and willed her delicate fingers to dance over her pussy quickly, roughly, softly, changing tempo seemingly at random. Amy didn't care, she was just along for the ride and was enjoying every second of it.

Margaret finished toweling her hands dry and looked out upon the yard, her brow wrinkled in consternation as she failed to see her daughter. She slammed the door shut and walked over to the huge contraption that she had never liked and glared across the yard. Nothing seemed out of order at first but she soon heard a low sound coming from the side of the house.

As she turned around the corner, finally deciding to open her mouth and call for her daughter, Margaret stopped dead in her tracks.

Amy opened her eyes and did what she couldn't do before, she stopped.

Margaret rushed over towards her daughter's side and grabbed her by the wrist with tears in her eyes. Amy knew that her mother was devastated, but she couldn't understand why when it had felt so good. She wondered why her mother had warned her against such things even as the older woman dragged her to her feet.

But she wouldn't budge. Amy opened her mouth to demand an explanation from her mother when the woman slapped her soundly across the cheek. She stared dumbly at her mother as her tongue slid across the growing side of her mouth, savoring the growing taste of copper. Without thinking, she did what she thought she would never do, she swung back.

Margaret fell to the ground, her knees grinding the grass down into the dirt and leaned forward, shaking as she held her hands against her face. The shock plain in her eyes, Margaret finally managed to look up and nearly winced at the smoldering anger she witnessed in her daughter's eyes.

Her mother then glanced down at the wet spot before her, mere inches away from her face. Not thinking, not caring, Amy decided that the woman who had kept such pleasure from her for the past eleven years should be the first to give it to her.

Pulling her shorts down to her knees, Amy grabbed her mother by the hair, a move the older woman had done to her more than once, grabbed her by the throat and shoved the other woman's face into her crotch.

Holding onto the woman that had given birth to her, Amy began to use her to satisfy her urges. Margaret tried to breath, tried to pull, tried to free herself, but Amy wouldn't have it. She was stronger than her mother and determined to fulfill her passions.

She ground her body into her mother's face without mercy, a wicked little smile growing on her face; she would be satisfied.

Margaret wanted to cry out as she struggled but her mouth was filled with the pungent, musky smell of her daughter's sex. She clawed and slapped and scratched and beat, each blow being returned twice as hard, until finally her strength gave out and she gave up. She let her daughter rub her hairy slit all over her face and even licked a little in the hopes that it would appease her tormentor.

Amy was in a mood as never before, however, and she would not be appeased. She commanded her mother this way and that, dealing out punishment, releasing wave after wave of anger, sorrow and guilt with each gyration of her hips until she finally had her mother lapping at her lips like a little puppy dog.

Margaret looked up at her daughter with fear in her eyes as she sucked and licked. She was ready to beg for mercy when her daughter exploded; the juices rushing out of her like little rapids across Margaret's face.

At first she glared as her mother didn't suck up her juices but she smiled once the flow had ceased and slid down so that her face was level with her mothers and began to lick the fluids that stuck to her.

She finished licking up her own juices from her mothers face when she decided that she wanted more. Tired herself, she slunk down to her mothers sacred area and began to eat it and tear it and to altogether desecrate it. Her mother had never been serviced that way by anyone nor had she ever done that to another person, and now here she was, having done it by her own daughter, her own flesh and blood.

Her waist bucked of its own accord and she soon found her hands on the back of her daughters head, forcing it in, grinding her daughters head into her place. When she began to flow she knew that it would not be the last.