[interesting]

For a moment, time seemed frozen to Justine, as images ran through her mind, traveling from the past into the future in a fraction of a second, but that fraction seemed a lifetime.

When she was ten, Justine had spent a weekend at her cousin's house. They had played all day in the mud and, by the time supper rolled around, Justine was filthy. Her aunt had dragged her to the bathroom, stripped her rather forcibly, and tossed her into the shower, under water too hot for her young skin, and started rinsing her off with a sponge. When Justine had protested, she had received a severe spanking with a wooden rod. She remembered her aunt rubbing the sponge hard, even between her legs. The nerve endings had been overly stimulated and hurt like hell for the next few days. But mostly, Justine remembered how helpless and violated she had felt.

When she was thirteen, barely into high school, she had been dragged after class into the girl's shower where they had forced her to strip naked and touch herself while they watched. She didn't remember who 'they' were, just that there were many girls looming over her. A few had peed on her at same time, as part of some kind of twisted initiation ritual. It had been her first time masturbating (having heard from her own mother that it was a sin).

By the time she was fifteen, she had met the man who would become Tina's father. Robert was a trouble-maker at school, African-American, good-looking and quite the reputation as a bad boy. To impress him into dating her, she had worn no panties in school and flashed him. That same day, he had ambushed her on her way home, dragged her into the park, to an isolated section in the woods, and he had fucked her.

Nine months later, Tina was born. Justine was cast out by her mother and moved in with Robert who tried his best to take care of her for three years, running from dead-end job to dead-end job until he had just quit and vanished. Not before he had tried to rekindle their 'romance' by bringing another guy into the mix, his best friend Petey. To be double-teamed while her daughter was sleeping in the other room had not been Justine's most pleasant sexual experience.

From there, all memories became a blur, until her interview with the strip club owner. She remembered dancing for him, taking off everything, surviving the encounter on stage only to cry her soul in the bathroom.

Suddenly, in light off all this, the arrangement with August Rand didn't seem too eccentric. And in the same light, in the now, giving a full bath to her grown daughter didn't seem so wrong.

Still, with one hand in the washcloth, Tina holding it against her crotch, Justine was in a daze, unsure of how to proceed. The room was suffocating from the steam generated by the hot bath. Despite being only in her bra, Justine was suffocating internally.

Suddenly, Tina's other hand, the one still free, came to rest just above Justine's cleavage. The contact was cool, and it allowed Tina to capture her mother's gaze.

"You're so warm, mom..."
"Honey... I don't think."
"Mom... Don't think. Don't talk."

The words were sweet, almost quiet. Tina's hand went to caress her mother's cheek. She started moving the other hand (washcloth and Justine's hand) between her legs, rubbing the lot against her own crotch, pressing her mother's finger through the washcloth against the folds of her sex. Justine looked down to see what was happening. Her hand didn't belong to her anymore, she realized. Tina had control over it.

With her free hand, Justine began to caress Tina's upper back and shoulders, gently rubbing up there while her other hand was maneuvered outside of her ability to sense it.

The image of a hard sponge suddenly popped into her mind and she had to speak.

"Tina, you're going to get hurt..."
"What?"

Tina paused the motion, startled by her mother's sudden reaction. Justine managed to finally pull her hand away, and she let the washcloth drop into the water.

"If you rub it too hard, you'll get hurt..."
"I won't, mom. I promise."

Tina recovered Justine's hand and brought it back against her sex, without the washcloth this time. Fingers returned to their duty, guided by a daughter's hand. Tina moaned internally as she felt the electricity travel into her body, unable to believe what she was having her mother's hand do. It made her ambitious and lusting for more.

"Mom..."
"Yes, Tina?"
"Can I... suck your nipple, like when I was a baby?"

Justine didn't answer. Her hand moved from her daughter's back to her breast, and she pulled the cloth of the bra aside, revealing one nipple and leaning in. Tina leaned in too and her lips met her mother's nipple. She licked the aerola, then gently bit the nipple, drawing a slight moan from her mother. With more force, she teased her mother's fingers against her sex with some energy as she suckled on.

Justine stared at the scene with her mind blank, unable to comprehend why she was giving in to this lustful behavior, not wanting it to stop either.

Quite suddenly, Tina pulled her away and started moaning very loudly.

"Aw... mom! oh my... f... aye.... oooh..."

It was followed by a succession of squealing sounds as Tina managed to steal some eagerly sought pleasure from her mother's fingers. The energy subsided after that. Tina was smiling, her head temporarily lost in the clouds. Justine stared at that smile, the most beautiful reward. How could something that made her daughter feel so good be wrong, she wondered to herself?

Still, Justine wiped her fingers in the water before puling them away. Tina tilted her head, a satisfied look in her eyes.

"No matter how crappy the day," she whispered, "I still have my mom to take care of me."
"Of course, Tina. I'll always take care of you."

Tina pursed her lips. Justine took the cue and leaned in. Their lips met in a quiet kiss that lasted several seconds.

"You're the best, mom... Thank you for that. I... really needed it."

Justine was about to say something but she held it back. She couldn't get herself to say it. Not at this moment. But it made sense to her, so she told it to herself, internally. It was one word. Anytime.