Francesca’s Mother

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Francesca’s Mother is a sexy lady love short story for you to enjoy – it was first published by Oysters and Chocolate a couple of years ago… 

Hope you enjoy – warning – contains scenes of water flumes and lady hair… 
I
couldn’t help but stare.
She
was perfection in her black bikini, standing in front of me in line for the
waterslide. From her heels to her calves, all the way up the back of her thighs
to the dip and crease of her buttocks, her legs were flawless. Olive, hair free
skin had me mesmerized. I was now glad of the long queue which previously had
me shivering. With all the self assurance of a foreign exchange student, she
gracefully lifted her ponytail and tied it in a knot. I swallowed hard as I caught
a glimpse of thick dark hair curling under her arms. My heart leapt and I was
instantly thrown back to my youth.
Francesca’s
mother was my guilty pleasure. I would stay for long weekends at their house
and spend the whole time preoccupied by the huge maternal presence that
commanded the family home with gentle force. I would find any excuse to go into
the kitchen and watch her knead dough on the antique pine table, her braless
breasts swinging and gently slapping together beneath a purple smock dress. She
was so mighty and strong and, though I couldn’t name it at the time, sensual.
When she moved near me I’d inhale her scent. Underneath the rosemary and garlic,
there was something else; something musky and dangerous. It at once attracted
and repelled me, but I always filled my lungs with the delicious warmth,
seeking that hidden perfume.
“Look
at this,” Francesca pulled me into her mother’s bedroom one trip home from
college. We sprawled on the bed reading Anais Nin and Nancy Friday books until
we could gasp and giggle no more. I read the words, becoming more and more
physically turned on. I’d had a few ferociously passionate encounters at college
and was no stranger to sex, but I sensed these books were exploring something
else too. Something more than the physical. They made me want to be with the
mighty woman downstairs.
“I’m
just going for a drink,” I told Francesca and rolled off the bed, taking care
not to show the damp spot forming in my jeans.
When
I got to the kitchen, Francesca’s mother was standing over a huge pot of broth
on the stove. Thick meaty smells filled the room, and as she lifted her elbow
to stir the great vat, a tuft of glossy black curls sprang into view. I was
slightly repulsed but my mouth started watering and warmth and moisture spread
between my legs. I sat on a stool and pressed my hands onto my mound, rocking
my pelvis into my fists while Francesca’s mother stirred the soup. I came in my
jeans just as she tapped the drips off the ladle on the side of the pot.
The
atmosphere was charged and I was sure I caught her eyes flit across my tiny
hard nipples while she swept away wild peppery hair from her brow with her
forearm. I lifted my ribcage and stared at her, daring her to look again, but
she didn’t. She turned back to the range and opened the oven door. Steam and
the odor of fresh baked bread broke the spell and I hopped off the stool and
sped back up to Francesca, at once invigorated and ashamed.
And
now, at the swimming pool of all places, these feelings had returned. The queue
bustled into me and I stumbled slightly into the back of the poised beauty in
front. She looked haughtily round and I licked my lips involuntarily at the
sight of hers. Full and raw with a dusting of fine hairs on her upper lip.
Suddenly I was consumed with want for this woman. I could have grabbed her
there and then. I could feel my nipples peaking as she looked at me straight in
the eye.
“I’m
sorry,” I gasped. “It’s the people behind, they keep pushing.”
She
slowly and languidly looked down the full length of me then turned back as the
attendant signaled her to go on the slide. She grabbed the bar at the top of
the entrance and flung herself into the water filled tube. My desire began to
subside and I gave myself a mental shake. What was I up to?
The
attendant gave me the nod and I pushed myself as hard as I could into the
tunnel. I was drenched and gathered up by the flow, sliding up and down the
sides of the huge tube. It was exhilarating and my lustful agitation was just easing
when I collided hard into a figure jammed spread-eagled against the sides of
the slide.
“What
the…” I started as the woman from the queue fell heavily onto me thrusting a
hand over my mouth.
“I
saw the look in your eyes,” her distinct voice hissed in my ear and my want
came flooding back. As we writhed and twisted gathering speed, she removed her
hand and kissed me hard, forcing my mouth open with her powerful sharp little
tongue. It was thrilling and I reached round and grabbed her ass through her
bikini bottoms. She countered by shoving her hand in between my legs and pulled
my swimsuit to the side, delving fingers inside my soaked sex. I splayed my
legs open and tried to slow us down by grabbing the tube walls. She slammed her
pelvis into the gap and ground her hand deeper into my pussy with the force of
her mound. It felt so horny and I grabbed at her tits craning my head up and
under her arm to catch another glimpse of the beautiful curls. She obliged,
lifting her arm, allowing me to bury my nose into the fragrant nook. There it
was. Sensual, dangerous, horny – that smell. I wallowed in it as she kneaded my
clit with her thumb. I jerked and rocked as the stars that always signalled my
climax swirled in my peripheral vision. My pussy began to well and she started
pumping her fingers into me violently as the water gushed around us and flowed
over her chest, pulling down her bikini top so that her ripe dark nipples were
just a lick away. As I started coming, I engulfed one of her breasts with my
hungry mouth and suckled her throbbing tit, tonguing the puckered flesh of her
nipple trying to take it all in. She grabbed my pussy from the inside and out,
gripping my clit and g-spot together. I came, twitching and panting and gushing
all over her sexy little hands. I wanted my turn, I wanted to fuck her with my
fingers, my tongue, but she climbed off me, and slid away while tying her
bikini back up. The slide ended abruptly and I splashed out into a deep cool
pool. I swam to the surface, staring all around for my tunnel lover, but I
couldn’t see her anywhere.
Later,
I searched though my college things and found the books I’d quietly stolen from
Francesca’s mother. I spent the rest of the afternoon sprawled across my bed understanding
all the things I’d missed those years before. 

If you like my erotic style, and would like to read more, please take a look around my site or at my Amazon author page USAmazon author page UK where you’ll find an up to date list of all my work for sale. My writing celebrates all kinds of physical and spiritual love between all sorts of lovely ladies and gentlemen. I particularly recommend Mia’s Books and A Clockwork Butterfly from

Beachwalk Press. Hope you enjoy.
Thanks for stopping by and reading all the way to the end!
Tabitha x x x 

4 thoughts on “Francesca’s Mother

  1. Glad you enjoyed it chaps and chappesses! I only remembered about it recently and when I read it I thought, I know, I'll pop it on me blog. Thank you so much for your lovely comments x x x

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