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Like Mother Like Daughter
I had just distributed candy to the first trick-or-treater, a shy but sweet angel, and waved to the angel’s mother standing out near the curb, when Janey came downstairs wearing my wedding dress. “Is this okay?” she asked.
I was taken aback. She looked beautiful in the gown, much better than I ever looked in it, not that I ever wore it for real. “It’s beautiful, honey. You’re beautiful.”
“Thanks, Mom, you’re the best,” and she stepped past me and out the door.
“Wait,” I called. “Where…?” I shook my head and was about to set off after her when I spotted her cell phone on the hall table. I snatched it up. Two princesses and a diminutive witch were at the front door. I quickly dropped a Snickers into each sack and scanned the street. Janey was almost all the way down the block, striding into a beautiful October evening: mild temperatures, a harvest moon rising, red and brown and golden leaves falling on the hordes of skeletons, gypsies, zombies, and superheroes, more and more of them, advancing upon my door. I fetched the overflowing caldron of candies onto the porch. “Here, help yourselves, have them all, but don’t be greedy,” I said, and clutching Janey’s cell phone, I hurried out after her.
The long white dress should have slowed her down, but it didn’t. She fairly flew. After five blocks I was no closer, and I was too breathless to call out. Maybe I could have, but I admit I was a little curious where she was off to in such a hurry. A Halloween party in the neighborhood, I suspected. Otherwise she would have been picked up by one of her girlfriends or she would have asked to borrow the car. I tried without success to think of the last time she’d asked me to drive her to a friend’s house.
The next thing I knew we were on the train platform—Janey at the far end—and the 6:15 commuter into the city was just pulling in. Janey stepped onto the lead car. I stepped onto the last. Men and women in costumes filled the seats, heading into the city for Halloween revelry. I’d planned to walk through the cars to get to Janey’s, but I didn’t have the energy, and when I spotted an empty seat, I sat. A moment later the conductor appeared. “Tickets, please, tickets,” he called out. I shrugged. “I guess I don’t have any,” I said. “Forgot my purse it seems.” He shook his head, a slight, grave, side-to-side movement. “I’m so sorry,” I told him. “I guess I’ll just be getting off at the next stop, okay?” The conductor nodded, a small bobbing motion, his frown turning into perhaps a paternal smile. I got up and retraced my steps down the aisle. When the train reached the next station, I climbed off, the conductor holding my hand to help me down.
Now I’d have a two mile walk back home. I didn’t know if I was up for it. Aha, I thought. I have Janey’s phone. I can call a cab. But before I could act on that thought, I saw Janey down at the other end of the platform, skipping down the steps and off and then walking briskly down one of the residential streets. Once again I set off after her. It was almost dark now, but the white gown shone in the moonlight, making her easy to trail. I made no effort to close the gap between us. Rather I kept to the shadows, stepping cautiously past clusters of kids in costume. Several blocks later the houses came to an end. A rugged stone wall too high for me to see over ran along the abutting street. Janey had turned to the left, but now she was no where to be seen. I hurried to the left, following the wall, and almost at the end of the block, embedded in a recess, was a black iron gate. On the other side of the gate a paved path led up a hillside filled with tall tombstones. Janey was walking up the path’s middle. Someone was walking with her. I tried to place him. From this distance in this light, I couldn’t make out any details, but something about him looked familiar. I’d need to get closer.
I tried the gate. It didn’t open to my pull or push. By now Janey and her companion were almost to the top of the hill. The gate was taller than the wall, with forbidding iron spikes studding the top. It didn’t seem possible Janey could have climbed over, certainly not wearing the wedding dress. I stood there trying to think. The street was quiet. The cemetery was quiet. I gathered my resolve, stuffed Janey’s cell phone in the back pocket of my jeans, and attempted to scale the gate.
It wasn’t easy, but by bracing my back against the wall and climbing the end post of the gate, I made it to the top of the wall. I sat there, resting. Janey and her companion were not in sight. I hung from the gate's crossbar, lowered myself full out, and let go, trying to land like a cat. I landed more like a pumpkin, falling back onto my butt. It hurt, partly because I don’t have the most padded of butts, but mostly because I crunched Janey’s cell phone. I cursed under my breath for my carelessness. Janey loved her cell phone probably more than she loved me. Maybe it was okay. Maybe I was okay. I didn’t take the time to find out; I set off up the path in the direction Janey had taken.
At the top of the little hill there was no sign of her. The path split into two. The path to the left curved behind a hedge. The path to the right meandered through the meadow of tombstones. I headed for the hedge.
I turned a corner and then another and another and stopped short. Janey was not more than six feet away sitting on a stone bench side by side with her companion. They were turned to each other, kissing deeply. So involved were they in the kiss that they apparently didn’t notice me. I took a step back and crouched down, my knees pressing soft earth, my body hidden behind the boughs of the bush. I peered at them, at their ardent embrace. Janey’s face was radiant, bathed in moonlight. I thought to leave them to their passions, but the kiss held me spellbound. My own breathing matched my daughter’s. And when, as I’d feared, her hand moved to the boy's breeches, it was almost as if I’d willed it.
The kiss went on uninterrupted, but her hand deftly managed the buttons and zipper of his trousers. Out sprang a most sizeable cock. My breath caught at the sight of it, boldly helmeted, rigid and ready, the ivory shaft quivering in the moonlight. Yet the couple’s kiss continued, even as Janey traced the seam of the erection with a forefinger, causing it to spring and judder, even as she stroked the erect phallus, tantalizingly slow strokes from base to crown, even as she milked it, strong, rhythmic squeezes which brought a bubble of sexual seep to the opened slit, even as I sought the warmth and firmness of that stiff stalk in my own slippery clit.
At last the kiss broke, and Janey bent low to take the boy’s phallus fully into her mouth. From the expression of ecstasy on his face and from my very limited experience in such matters nearly two decades ago, I was sure the boy was ejaculating in my daughter’s mouth. A few seconds later she pulled back. The cock gleamed proudly in the moonlight, wetted by Janey’s saliva. I saw it for only an instant, for Janey stood, pivoted, and sat upon it, facing her lover, surely impaled. I could feel it as if it were in me, that sudden sweet stretch, and I shook at the hollow emptiness of my core. Janey shook too. I could smell her arousal—or maybe it was my own. She sat still for a moment as they stared into each other's eyes, and then she began to move. The gown did nothing to disguise the motions of her hips. The supple swivel. The sharp, syncopated thrusts. She was fucking him. Smoothly at first, then harder, faster, and then she shuddered, a series of violent shudders. She was coming on his cock. Now I was sure he was coming too, coming in her cunt. I fairly swooned to see it. My own cunt clenched, but without a cock as anchor, my come couldn't catch. It was all I could do not to cry out in despair.
The lovers held tight in their rapture. I knelt on the ground, my panties soaked, my face flushed, my nipples swollen, burning, aching. As if sensing my need, Janey pushed down the bodice of my wedding dress, baring her breast to the boy’s ravenous mouth. She held his head tight to her breast, her head fell back, and his lips, tongue, and teeth upon her tender nipple set her off again. Her cry made the stars shiver.
Sated, she lifted herself off, sat more or less as before, and again bent low to take the spent cock in her mouth. Her sucking again did not last long. She released him, and she laughed, a delightful, delighted laugh, and they again embraced and kissed. It was almost as if I could taste the mix of them on her tongue. Flooded with shame, I backed away from my bush and hastened to sneak down the path, leaving them at last to themselves. I made a wrong turn, a second wrong turn, and then found my way again, ending up at the gate, but I was too weak to climb. I sat against the iron bars, trying without success to think things through, and I waited.
It may have been fifteen minutes, it may have been forty-five, but eventually Janey came.
“Hey, Mom, what are you doing here?” she asked, her face fresh and flushed from exuberant love.
“Just wanted to make sure you had your cell phone.” I handed it to her.
“You’re so sweet,” Janey said. “Can we get a cab home?” She opened her phone.
“Yes, but…” I started to say, but she was already talking to the dispatcher. The cab arranged, she gave me a boost up the wall, then without effort followed me over.
On the ride home, cradled in slippery satin, she fell dreamily against me. “Did you have a nice Halloween?” I asked.
“Oh yes!” she declared. “It was wonderful. The best wedding night ever! It was so fun. I wish Halloween were every night, don’t you? But that would be too greedy, wouldn’t it? Maybe next year I can go as a bride again. Can I, Mom? Can I?”
“I guess so, honey,” I said. “Just so I don’t have to go as the grandmother.”
story by Mat Twassel |