Like Mother, Like Daughter Ch. 01

It was like I could hear his every step, every creak of wood becoming louder, as he made his way up the trellis. My mind was filled with the pounding drums of my thumping heart. There was a tremble in my body as footsteps came from the balcony itself. I had never done anything like this, not even in my own youth. It was so out of character, so wrong, yet so exciting. It was not too late to back out, I kept telling myself as I watched the curtains swish in what little breeze there was. Not too late . . . not too . . . not . . . it was too late. There, framed from behind by silvery moonlight, was Peter.

He didn't wait for an invitation, walking straight to where I was standing.

"Amina," he practically shouted his welcome.

"Shhh, Peter," I responded. "You'll wake them up."

Was this what made it so exciting? Yes, it was a real taboo for a married mother like me to have an affair with a young lad, especially one who thought I was my daughter. To do it in the same house where my husband and two sons were fast asleep, that was something else. It was the risk as much as the desire which had my chest heaving. My family was at home, and I was going to date a stranger in the same house. I was pretty sure that it would have taken a lot to wake them up, especially with the doors closed, but I wasn't going to chance it either.

We stood, barely three feet apart, simply staring at each other. My mind flashed between that first meeting in the market and the youthful figure in front of me. He was taller than I remembered, and maybe a little heavier set. I could imagine his broad shoulders and firm chest beneath a tight-fitting tee-shirt. As for his trousers, well the only image in my mind was that photo . . . the last one he had sent at the time that he had suggested meeting up once more.

"You look beautiful, Amina," he whispered as he took me in his arms.

He didn't give me a chance to reply, placing his lips down on mine and pulling me in close. I was stretching on tiptoes, given the difference in height, but any discomfort was soon washed away by a tingle of excitement which started in my lips and soon filled my whole body. I could feel my firm bust, pressed tightly into his manly chest as he wrapped one arm around my shoulders and the other across my lower back.

His kiss was just something else, and I felt any remaining hesitation disappear in that embrace. It was so long since I had felt like this. I remembered the Zeeshan I had first met. He was quite a kisser. Even after we married, he could still make me tremble through his lips alone, but once we became a family his interest waned. Nowadays a courteous peck on the cheek had become the norm, and I thought nothing more about it until tonight. The taste of this kiss -- yes, in my mind it had its own taste; a mix of seduction, sensuality and desire -- had my heart pumping faster than ever.

I had practically slumped into his arms as he lifted me up and carried me over to the bed. We may have stopped kissing, yet still I could feel the tingle of his lips on mine. I kissed him gently on the neck before he lowered me down onto the soft mattress. Then his shadow, cast only by that gentle moonlight, covered my body as he joined me on the bed. I felt the weight of his larger frame lower down on top of me, his hands wrapped behind my head, as we kissed once more. It was a beautiful feeling, to be loved once more, and I could have stayed there happily all night.

Peter though had other ideas, lifting himself up so that he was kneeling over my legs he looked down at me. I smiled back at my young lover. It was a smile which, without the need for words, urged him to continue. He leant forward and kissed me once more on my lips, then my bare arms, caressing gently as he worked his way down.

Then I felt it, a tug at the zip on the front of my dress. Slowly, inch by inch, the metallic teeth parted. He was back on his knees, looking down at my body as first cleavage then bust emerged from beneath the fabric. Maybe it was the excitement of the whole affair or the chill in the night-time air, but my nipples were already hardened nubs.

The natural reaction was to cover them with my hands, but Peter beat me to it, cupping a hand across each of my large mounds before kneading gently at the soft flesh. Every now and again he'd give my nipples a tweak and I'd respond with a high-pitched squeal. It was driven more through surprise than pain. The more he worked my tits, the more I wanted him. Inside, my body tingled with pleasure, and down below I longed for a satisfaction which had long since deserted me.

When, finally, he latched down with his mouth and suckled at my nipples I almost lost control. One by one, my hard nubs were sucked deep inside his soft lips before being released with an audible plop. A subtle nibble with his teeth sent shocks of electricity through my body. I couldn't help myself, eyes screwed shut I bit hard on my lip to stifle the screams which ran through my head. By the time he stopped I just lay there, breathing hard, waiting for his next move.

He sat at the side of me, smiling down.

"You have great breasts, Amina. Your photos didn't do them justice. How about we take this dress off and you show me the rest of your beautiful body?"

I simply lay there, unable to raise any resistance, as Peter pulled down the remainder of my zip. When he had finished, my dress lay open across my body. I sat up, letting it slip off my shoulders, and give him a kiss.

"And this?" he asked, gently holding the hijab.

I froze. He was right of course. The hijab really did stifle the intimacy of this encounter, but it was the only thing keeping the deception going.

"No," I responded. "I can't . . . you can't . . ."

"Can't what? I love you Amina, and I think you love me too. Why then do you hide your beauty from me?"

"But . . ."

I hesitated. It wasn't a case of not being allowed to remove it, that was my choice or more to the point it was Zeeshan's choice. I wore it normally to please him as much as to protect my modesty. Inside I wanted to take it off, to feel Peter's face against mine, to let him admire my beauty, but he would know, wouldn't he? If I removed the hijab then he would know for sure that I was not my daughter. What if it put an end to the night? That was it . . . the night. With the lights out it was dark, the gleam of the moon doing enough to make out shapes but not really details. Maybe I could still get away with it.

"Okay," I responded, "but your turn first. Show me your manly prowess and then I'll show you my womanly beauty."

Peter practically jumped up off the bed. It was like he had received an invite he couldn't resist. I watched, staring intently at his silhouetted figure in the silvery moonlight, as he pulled his tee-shirt over his head. I licked my lips at the toned torso which stood in front of me. It was more of a four pack than the hallowed six, but it was everything I could have desired from my young lover. He had physique, youthful energy, and I hoped just a dash of raw wanton passion. The jeans were soon discarded leaving my lover dressed in nothing more than a pair of boxers.

"Wow," I responded, "you are one sexy lover."

I kept my side of the deal and removed the hijab, shaking my long black locks as they cascaded loosely over my shoulders. Holding my breath, I waited for his outcry of disgust, as he realised he had been duped into this encounter. It never came. Instead, Peter joined me once more on the bed, and we returned to that first embrace. To feel his almost naked body against mine, the warmth passing between us, was divine. We kissed with the youthful abandon of two lovers who had been apart for so long. Lips, neck, shoulders, breasts, he kissed them all, using lips and tongue to good effect.

I felt it first in my lips, that tingle starting small and spreading throughout my body. I hadn't felt like this for so long. I just hoped that Peter had the energy to quench my desires. Down below I could feel the need growing with every minute, as he worked my breasts, delving deep into my cleavage before suckling on my sensitive hard nubs. I closed my eyes once more, simply enjoying the attention he was giving me.

It was a new experience as that husband of mine was not a boob man, preferring to simply get on with the intercourse rather than building the moment through such intimate foreplay. As I moaned, soft gentle sounds interspersed with the odd excited yelp, I realised just what I had been missing for all this time. I may have had many years on my lover, but he certainly knew which buttons to push, lick, nibble and practically torment.

It seemed like hours, that we simply lay on the bed, Peter working wonders on stoking the fires in my loins. I had long since lost any resolve. The young lad could lead where he wanted, and I was just about powerless to resist. He took my hand in his and pulled it towards him. I gasped as he rested my fingers over his boxers, the huge bulge inside making it clear that he was as excited as I was.

"Take it out," he whispered.

My heart skipped a beat. In my mind I had the image of that photo, and here just under my fingers was the real thing. I felt it twitch as I gently ran fingers over the bulge. It was so big, so exciting, and so mine. Slowly, like an excited child at Christmas, I peeled back a corner of his boxers and took a glance inside. My eyes widened as I saw his long, thick, hard cock. Without warning, I tugged his boxers down, revealing the hidden monster as it sprung to life in front of me.

I had loved Zeeshan's small cock, telling myself that size didn't matter, and it was what he did with it which counted. Peter's though had size in abundance, length and girth, and from his foreplay I sort of guessed that he would know what to do with it as well. Smiling widely, excited at the thought of this serpent quenching my raging fires, I wrapped my fingers around his cock. To my surprise he seemed to grow even more in my grip, blood pulsing inside as I gently worked my hand along its length. It was Peter's turn to smile back at me.

"Is it as good as the photo?" he asked.

"Better, much better," I replied. "Do you want to remove mine too?"

It was like I was asking his permission, asking to be allowed to feel his hard shaft up inside me. I so hoped he would say yes. He didn't reply with words, instead reaching down and slowly easing his hand down the front of my blue panties. To feel his fingers making paths through my womanly bush was so exciting. I just couldn't resist and, leaving his cock for the moment, I peeled my panties down my legs before discarding them on the floor.

"Will you have sex with me now?"

It was such a naive question. I knew the answer would be yes, so why was I asking? Did I need the reassurance of the young lad telling me his intentions? Was I scared of leading the way or was it just a cultural thing?

"All in good time," he whispered, smiling as he placed my hand back on his cock.

Gently, I ran my hand up and down his length. Oh, how good he felt. I couldn't wait to have him inside me. Maybe driven by excitement, I gathered speed as I worked his shaft. His hand grabbed mine, bringing me to a halt.

"Use your mouth."

"What?" I replied rather taken aback. "What do you mean, use my mouth?"

"You've never done it before? Never used your mouth?"

"No," I replied, now a little embarrassed. "It is not appropriate to do that. It is an unholy part of the body. How would anyone take it in their mouth?"

"I see," came his reply. "Your culture tells you it is unholy, but what do you say? Do you always follow your religion? Would it say that what we do now is holy?"

He had a point. It was a touch hypocritical of me, a married mother, to be sat here with my lover whilst husband slept on the other side of the house and then to talk about what was unholy. And what did I want?

"And people really do this?" I asked, expecting his condescending laughter at my innocence.

"Yes," Peter replied, "and a lot more. I can guide you if you'd like, but only if you want to."

That was it. I really wanted to. I really wanted to do it all, but I needed Peter to help me on my journey.

"Will you, Peter? Will you show me everything?"

A finger to my lips, followed by a guiding hand, told me my answer.

He had me sit in the middle of the bed, and knelt in front of me, his cock pointing obscenely out towards my face. Taking my hand in his, he placed it back on his member and had me stroke him once more. This time he guided me, slow, long strokes revealing his engorged head as I went. Then, he stopped and smiled.

"Go on," he whispered, "it won't bite."

I stared for a minute, composing myself before slowly leaning forward. Hovering just in front of his cock, I raised my eyes and glanced up at him. Peter nodded, telling me I was doing right. I flicked out my tongue and touched his head, feeling it twitch in front of me. It wasn't so bad, a bit stale and salty, but definitely not disgusting in an unholy sort of way. I felt so innocent and sheltered that I was having such new experiences at my ripe old age. That said, I wasn't intending to be a slow learner. Another tentative lick, then a longer one running my tongue the length of his shaft. Time after time I repeated the same, coating his whole member with my saliva.

I glanced up at Peter once more. Was I still doing well? He nodded again, then opened his mouth in a wide circle. The intention was obvious. When he said to use my mouth, he really meant me to use it and not just my tongue. Following his lead, I placed my lips around his head, kissing him gently then pulling away. I repeated, again, and again, taking a little more of him into my mouth each time as I responded to his encouragement.

"Keep going," he whispered, "a bit deeper."

In my mind I was becoming a pro, taking him in before clamping my lips down on his shaft. I'd run my tongue around his head before pulling off again, sucking hard as he withdrew. Soft moans urged me on, and I soon picked up speed, knowing that my lover was enjoying the attention he was being given. It came as a surprise when he stopped me.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"Oh, no. You were fantastic, Amina," he started, "so good that I could feel myself getting close to cumming, and we wouldn't want that, would we? At least, not in your mouth."

I looked at him and he winked back at me. I so hoped that his other ideas matched my own.

"Please, Peter," I practically pleaded. "I want to feel you inside me."

He didn't need to ask anything. I simply lay back in the middle of the bed with my head on the pillows and my legs spread in a most inviting manner. If Peter didn't get the message now, he never would. He didn't disappoint, but it wasn't his monster cock which teased my aching sex. Instead it was the gentle warmth of his tongue, running its way along my snatch before dipping inside my puffy lips. It was my turn to moan as he searched for my love canal, rimming the opening before dipping just inside. If I wasn't wet already, I soon was.

I closed my eyes. In that instant, I imagined that little cock which I had gotten used to, the one which ploughed its own furrow but really didn't manage to fulfil. Here it was, dipping in and out of my sex, teasing, stoking the fires but not hitting the high notes. I needed more, I needed . . . I needed . . .

"Aghhh," I moaned out loud as he switched his attention to my clit, flicking repeatedly over the bundle of sensitivity before clamping his lips down on my hardened nub. It was Peter who stifled my screams, placing his hand down over my mouth.

"Shhhh," he whispered, "you'll wake them up."

I look at him, initially irked by his reaction before the penny dropped. He still thought I was my daughter and hence was assuming my parents were in the house with us. I guess the last thing he wanted was an unexpected visitor.

"That's better," Peter continued. "Now, can I trust you not to scream again?"

I nodded, intentionally keeping schtum.

"Oh . . . and you taste fantastic."

"What?"

"You taste fantastic, but I guess you knew that."

Before I had the chance to reply, Peter had dived between my legs once more forcing his mouth up against my sex. I was really struggling to compose myself, his tongue working wonders down below. It wasn't what I had expected when I said I wanted to feel him inside, but boy was it enjoyable. I'd gasp as he thrust his tongue up into my pussy then moan when he turned his attention back to my clit.

Then there was the warmth inside. It was like a burning fire on the verge of becoming a raging inferno.

"More," I moaned between short sharp breaths. "More . . . yes, there . . ."

It was a feeling I had almost forgotten; one I hadn't experienced for such a long time. I was on that downward path, the one which would soon spiral out of control as he pushed me over the edge. Just a little more, that was all I needed. Much to my disappointment -- I guessed he sensed my impending climax in the ragged breaths -- Peter withdrew himself.

"Why?" I asked. "Why did you st . . ."

I never finished the sentence when his lips clamped down on mine.

"Mmmm," came a muffled moan as I tasted my juices on his lips and tongue. Peter was right, I did taste fantastic. This young lad had taught me so much this evening, even if he left now, I had to be thankful. I so hoped though that he didn't . . .

"Oomph," came another muffled moan.

Without warning, or at least without me recognising what was about to happen, he had taken matters into his own hands. A lift of the hips, a quick alignment and then Peter sank back down, his cock sliding deep inside my sodden pussy.

I grabbed at his ass, holding him close. After four kids, I couldn't profess to have the tightest pussy in the world, but when it came to this cock . . . well, enough to say I felt as tight as the daughter I was trying to be. Just the feel of this monster inside was to die for, the squeeze of manhood up against my pussy walls and the sense of fullness down below.

His was the first cock to have entered me in way too long and I was sure going to savour the moment. My mind flashed back to my honeymoon, all those years ago, and the time that I became a true woman. This, well this was like a second coming. I was becoming a woman once more, and this time it was far better than the last.

I released my grip. I looked deep into my lover's eyes then whispered.

"Take me, take me Peter."

I felt him move inside, such a satisfying feeling, as he rocked his hips. It was so not what I expected. The "wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am" that I expected from a young lover couldn't have been further from the truth. Here was the most gentle, sensual fuck that you could imagine. I found myself moaning once more, soft muffled moans with every movement down below. It was wonderful, but I needed more.

My young lover was a bit of a mind reader. Just as I thought I needed more, he upped his pace, pulling almost out then pushing back in again. It was firm yet still gentle, as he worked the length of his cock within my aching sex. I could feel myself tighten, trying my best to hold him in but to no avail. Soft moans had become louder and longer as pleasure ruled my mind. I'd forgotten once more about keeping the noise down.

Inside, the fires were rising, and I sensed I would soon be back on that downward spiral. From Peter's own grunts I guessed he was heading in the same direction. Subtlety had now gone, Peter's hips thrusting madly and pumping his manhood into me. I spread my legs as wide as I could, trying to get him deeper inside. It seemed that he read my every need, lifting up on his hands to change the angle slightly as he ground all the way into my sex, before continuing on his forceful fuck.