Not sure if any members here ever came across Evelyn Tremble online. She used to post a lot of stories and personal accounts of her life, some photos too. But I've not seen any for a long time. I saved this story she posted, I think it was on a site called Xanga. I hope she doesnt that I share it here.

---

We met at her kitchen door. I knocked and she promptly opened it. She stood in the door way. I remained just outside. As I stared at the hem of her skirt, my mother’s prime admonition swam through my mind. “Remember, my dear, the roots of desire grow best in fear.” ‘You were waiting for me’, I said. Earlier, I had asked her to do something for me and was now stopping in to see if she had complied. I listen as my mother’s voice intones …”Obedience equals love alone.” ‘Have you … ?’, I asked. She nodded and then turned round. ‘I love you’, she said, facing the empty kitchen inside. ‘We’ll see’, I said, as I carefully lifted her skirt indiscretely above her waist. The now exposed cheeks of her bare bottom proved her love. She had done as I asked despite initial misgivings. ‘Can we do this upstairs … please?’, she asked. ‘No, we can’t’, I replied, as I began to fondle her bottom. She leaned back, resting the nape of her neck upon my right shoulder. She turned her head and rested her lips next to my ear. My love has baby cheeks. ‘But …’, she said. ‘Yes, and it’s mine’, I replied, as I took firm hold of both her babies and drew them discretely apart. She did not pull away. My mother was right. “Push the bashfully brave hearted.” ‘Must we do this … here?’, she whispered. ‘You know the answer’, I said, as I ran my thumbs across her wrinkled hole. Her warm breath moistened my ear. I heard her lick wet her lips. She was almost ready. ‘Alright … I’m ready’, she replied. A door opened. Footsteps on the stairs. Hallway floorboards lifting and falling. She gasped and tried to pull away. I held her tight and pushed my left thumb inside her surprised hole. It gripped me tight. ‘Oh no, it’s … ‘, she cried weakly. ‘I know’, I said, ‘… and don’t you dare move.’ The light in the hallway came on. It was her mother. She stood in the hallway’s entrance and looked right at us. Neither one of us moved. I felt every muscle in my lady’s body instantly spasm when her mom spoke. ‘What’s going on, honey?’, she inquired. ‘Nothing, Mom’, she replied. ‘It’s only Eve. She was just walking home and decided to stop by.’ ‘Well, invite her in ‘, her mother said. ‘Thanks, Mrs. James, but I can’t’, I said, as I pushed my thumb deeper into her daughter’s anus. ‘I just wanted to talk to Joan for a few seconds. I really ought to be getting home.’ ‘Okay, but be sure to remind your mother about our lunch tomorrow, won’t you?’, she replied, turning to leave. I said I would as I awkwardly slipped my index finger into Joan’s cunt. As I did, her mother stopped for a moment and looked back. As she squinted at us, I tried to rub my inserted digits together. Joan swallowed a squeal. ‘You’re sure you can’t stay for a few moments, Eve?’, her mother asked. ‘No, I really can’t’, I replied. ‘I’ve got to be going. I’ll just talk to Joan for a few seconds then I’ve gotta go.’ As we watched her leave, I moved my other hand around to the front of her daughter’s skirt and lifted it up. Before her mother was three steps gone, I had Joan’s clit between two fingers. Her next squeal was harder to swallow. Joan’s muffled report caused her mother to pause in her assent up the stairs. I just kept rubbing and pulled gently on her love button. My mother’s voice directed me. “Always finish what you start.” ‘Good night, Eve’, her mother said. ‘Good night, Mrs. James’, I replied. As her mother continued to climb the stairs, Joan relaxed and slowly leaned back once more. I began to delicately stroke my fingers across her clit. As her mother finished, so did she. When she did, I popped my thumb abruptly out of her ass. Joan couldn’t swallow her squeal this time, so I did. It tasted fine … just like my mother said it would. ‘I love you’, she whispered. ‘I know’, I replied. I walked home alone that night, but, in truth, I was not without company. My mother was, as she always is, at my shoulder. Beneath a smiling harvest moon, we spoke. ‘Dearest mother … ‘, I began. I got no further. ‘There is nothing to say, my dearest daughter’, she replied, ‘love is all in the doing.’