Date: Fri, 29 Nov 2002 22:20:20 EST
From: Louisamay1111@aol.com
Subject: Loli ch8

    "Time to get up, little one."
    Vanessa opened her eyes to see her mother, now dressed in a beautiful
silk kimono gown, leaning over her. She heard rain pattering against a
window. She also noticed that she was now lying under a satin blanket. It
felt wonderfully smooth on her bare skin and she stretched luxuriously. As
she did so, she felt the soreness in her hips and thighs, and an odd tingle
in her bottom.
    "Ooh. I'm sore," she winced.
    "Sure you are. Those little muscles are learning all sorts of new
things.  Things they aren't used to doing in Gymnastics, that's for sure."
    Vanessa giggled and yawned, her arms above her head. "Nope, not in
Gymnastics." Her arms immediately came down. "Oh my gosh. What time is it?
Where's Loli? We need to get her home!" And she started to scramble out
from beneath the covers.
    "Honey, honey, don't worry." Her mother gently held her with an arm
around the girl's shoulders. "Everything's taken care of."
    Vanessa looked up at her mother. "What do you mean?"
    "I mean," and she kneaded the girl's soft shoulder, "I woke up and
drove Loli home a few hours ago, and Dad went to watch football at the
Bensons." She smiled. "You slept for almost four hours!"
    "Really?"
    "Really. I guess you needed it."
    Vanessa blushed. "I guess I did." She gingerly patted her bottom. "We
should go out to eat more often."
    Her mother grinned. "As long as you sit next to me."
    Vanessa grinned back. "Deal!" She looked at her mother. "So. . .we're
all alone here?"
     Mrs. Johnson nodded, and Vanessa whooped, "Cool!" and threw her arms
around her mother. She felt the coolness of the kimono wrap, smelled the
sweet, spicy fragrance of her mom's's light perfume, and murmured into her
soft breasts, "you are so cool."
    "Oh, honey," sighed the older woman, her hands roaming all over the
warm, naked child, "the way you make me feel, I am anything but!"
    "Woah," said Vanessa, standing up suddenly, "I really have to go to the
bathroom." Her little knees were locked together in a parody of need.
    Her mother stood, too, and put her arm around her daughter. "Here,
honey, use ours." And they walked into the large luxury master bathroom.
    "My legs are so shaky, my gosh." She looked about her. "Wow, I'm never
in here."
    The huge, pink marble bath was built into the wall. Next to it were an
oversize toilet and a bidet. Every wall was a mirror, and Mrs. Johnson
marveled at her incredible good fortune as she beheld the amazing image of
herself, elegant and statuesque in her crimson kimono, and this beautiful
little pixie of a daughter: the soft golden hair on her head the only hair
on her body, tiny lumps for breasts, her little bottom perfect in its pert,
round proportions, and her face a vision of pretty girlishness. And here
she was, naked, looking wonderingly about her. A soft jet of lust rushed
between Mrs. Johnson's legs. The wind whistled at the stained glass
windows.
    She sat down on the back part of the toilet seat and gathered her
kimono up around her waist. Her neat dark bush, washed and brushed since
its last encounter, looked back at her in the mirrored wall. "Come here and
sit." She patted the toilet seat in front of her.
    "But you're sitting on it."
    "Just the back. I'm don't have to pee, but you do, so I want you to sit
here in front of me and pee. Come on, honey."
    So Vanessa came and sat on the toilet seat, feeling a little
uncomfortable, and not at all like peeing. "I've never, um. . . I always go
to the bathroom by myself."
    "Well, I should hope so." Mrs. Johnson kissed the top of the little
girl's head, and reveled in the sight of her daughter, sitting so high up
on this grown-up toilet that her legs almost dangled, spread towards the
mirror, her bare little pussy still somewhat flaky with her own dried
juices. She reached around to touch the still-swollen lips.
    "Ooh, baby, you're a little puffy down here." The woman watched as her
fingers traced the puff pattern around Vanessa's labia. Vanessa stared,
fascinated, at the scene before her. Her mother continued her explorations,
slipping one elegant finger gently between the smooth pink lips. The finger
wiggled lightly in its sheath. "What do we call this, honey?"
    "Umm. . . my tingle." She breathed a sigh and let her head lean back
against the older woman's chest, still watching the mirror before her.
    "Your tingle. Yes." And Mrs. Johnson removed her finger from Nessa's
tingle and brought it to her lips. The girl watched as the older woman
licked her own finger with a generous gob of saliva and brought it back to
play. "Have you ever played with your tingle before?  Like this?" She
placed the lubricated finger between the rosy labia and began rubbing,
smoothing, in a circular motion.
    "I think I was, before you came to get me."
    "You think you were?" Both were staring at the mirrored image of Mrs.
Johnson's circling finger on the little girl's pink slit, seeing the soft
flesh darken as it folded and gave.
     "I was asleep. I woke up when you called me from downstairs, and my
finger was inside my tingle. And I was all, sticky. Ooh."
    The only sounds now were the rain and wind at the window, the slick,
sticky, sucking sounds of Mrs. Johnson's finger in her daughter's tingle,
and Vanessa's own breathing, which was becoming quite heavy and
open-mouthed. Every so often a soft, light moan escaped her little lips.
    "Were you dreaming?" the older woman whispered. Vanessa nodded against
her breast. "About what?"
    The girl's legs moved apart slightly to give better access to the
knowing fingers, watching them dig gently deeper. "About you," she
murmured.
    Her mother's fingers stopped, and her hand cupped Vanessa's lips. "Me?
Really?" The girl nodded, smiling, pleased at the woman's reaction in the
mirror.  "What happened?"
    "Well," the girl began, a blush appearing on her chest and face with
the thought of telling her elegant mother that Dream! This overwhelmed Mrs.
Johnson, who leaned in and kissed the little girl's neck. Her fingers
resumed their fondling, while the other hand came up and caressed a small,
peach-sized breast.
    "Mmm. Umm, I was coming up the front walk to tell you about my
practice--"
    "Uh-huhh," breathed her mother, as she rolled a tiny budding nipple
between her fingers.
    "Ooh. And, umm, you were there, and you were naked--"
    "I'm glad," murmured Mrs. Johnson into Nessa's ear, as she licked it.
    "Ahh-haa, and, you, umm, you wanted me to put lotion on your back, so I
kneeled down behind you, ohh Mommy!" The older woman's fingers were now
sliding deeper inside her daughter's little vagina.
    Mrs. Johnson whispered into Nessa's moist ear, "Did you put lotion on
my bottom?"
    Vanessa was starting to move on the toilet now, her little crotch
thrusting up towards the hand that invaded it. She was
panting. "Uh-huh. . .ohhh. . .I put lotion, . . .uhhHH, . . .I put it on
your bottom, and I saw your bottom hole, ohHH Mommy, oh nooo, I have to
peeee!!"
    "Go ahead and pee, honey."
    "Oooh, but it's gonna--"
    "It's OK, Nessa, I want you to. Pee, my darling. Pee." And her fingers
increased their speed at the little girl's wet slit.
    "Here it comes, Mommy. . . Ohhhh!" And a hot sharp stream of urine
hissed out of her.
    "Mmmm, I love it!" Her mother sluiced the stream through her busy
fingers, working the warm liquid into and around her little girl's sex. "Do
you feel it, honey? How warm it is, how wonderful?"
    Vanessa was really moving around now, her bottom jerking in and out in
spasms of pleasure. "Uh-huh, OH, oh, oh, it feels so good!" She strained
her head around to the older woman, in her abandon trying to kiss her. "Oh,
Mommy, I love you!  Ohh!" And she was crying.
    "Oh, God, little girl," and Mrs. Johnson's left hand left her
daughter's tiny breast to palm her upturned face. She leaned in and roughly
thrust her tongue into Nessa's panting mouth, tasting the girl's animal
excitement, breathing in her smothered cries, tasting her tears.
    Feeling her pee abate, she broke away from the kiss. "Turn around, hon.
Come here," and opened her arms. The girl immediately slithered off and
around to sit facing her mother. They clung tightly and kissed passionately
for a long time.
    At one point, in what seemed like a dream in itself to little Vanessa,
she realized that she had to poop, and said so.
    "Well, you're in the right place," whispered her older lover as she
stared into her eyes. "Just go ahead and poop. We'll just keep kissing. Is
that okay?"  Nessa's answer was to grin and lean in to again kiss, suck,
taste, devour those beautiful lips of her mom's. She trusted her mother
completely, so much so that she found herself, while deep inside a kiss,
pushing a poop out. The feeling was so intensely loving, as if her mother
was helping her poop from inside. She grunted and sighed, flooded with
love.
    And for her mother, the event was intensely erotic, as she felt and
tasted the young girl's effortful grunt into her mouth, felt her flowering
trust.  Opening her eyes as they kissed, she could see in the mirror
Nessa's little spread bottom as she straddled her lap, and the dark poop
nosing its way out of the girl's tiny, working anus. When Vanessa finished,
she decided, it was time for a good cleaning--- because she had to make
hungry love to that pretty opening again. Soon.
    A last plop, and Vanessa was done pooping. She broke the kiss, looking
deeply into her mother's eyes. "Oh Mommy," she breathed, "I love you so
much." She swallowed, still feeling the lingering strange lust that
connected her little asshole with her lips with her mother, her lover. She
sighed and laid her head on the woman's breast.