Shepherd's Pie Ch. 06: Daddy's Girl

"That's it, concentrate," Mom continued. "I'll even countdown from ten. When I reach one, I want you to cum for me as hard as you can."

Leaning back, I turned my head, biting down hard on the pillow. With my eyes tightly shut, I sensed her movement, weight shifting by my feet.

Blind to her location, I still couldn't mistake the texture of nylon, as I pictured Mom repositioned, straddling my leg.

"Ten..." Mom began, feeling her pussy grind steadily against my lower leg.

"Nine..." I felt her pantyhose pressed softly against my naked skin.

"Eight..." She switched hands, pouring more lotion down my cock.

"Seven..." Her right hand quickly took over, stroking double time, left hand given a rest.

"Six..." My mind went elsewhere...Mom and Chelsea...rubbing their clits together on Daphne's bed.

"Five..." If only I'd shown up sooner...Chelsea in silver Lurex tights...Mom in suntan hose...

"Four..." The image was just too much. Mom on the bed, one leg suspended mid-air, Chelsea on her back, legs open, wet pussies grinding together over sticky nylon.

"Three..." All I needed was a couple more seconds. I think I can... I think I can... I think I can...

"Two..." Hmm, was I crazy? Were Mom's pantyhose really that wet? Was her pussy juice really dripping down my leg?

"One..." Wait! What? No! Don't let go! Fuck! NO! Oh, oh shit! No, you fucking BITCH!

Mouth gaping, vision blurring, caught between heaven and hell, my dream turned to a nightmare, cursing in agony, groaning through bitter pain, able to make out the fuzzy image of Mom, clinically watching me suffer, as I lay there under her pantyhosed legs, penis flopping, spurting against my stomach, like an errant water hose, spraying without warning, showering sperm on my chest.

That satisfied look on her face pissed me off more than anything, cheerfully grinning, as I lay there covered in my own spunk.

"That'll teach you not to sneak around behind my back."

Though it may have been all in my head, for a moment, I swore she'd actually snickered under her breath.

Ten minutes later, after taking another quick shower, I came down to find Mom sitting in the living room, idly flipping channels.

"Are you staying up for a bit?" I asked, joining her on the couch.

"Yeah, I'm a little too wired for bed right now."

I understood fully. Lucky for her, I had the ideal remedy.

"Wanna smoke a bowl?"

Her eyes lit up. "Sure!"

I hopped up, eager to help her relax. "Say no more," I said, running upstairs, returning quickly, after fully packing my bong.

Within minutes we were high as fuck, laughing at South Park reruns, eating Captain Crunch.

"That was fucked up, what you did to me," I wanted her to know.

"I know. I'm sorry. But you have to admit, you did deserve it."

"Hmm, yeah," I nodded reluctantly. "Maybe a little," I added, changing the subject. "So what's happening with you and Mr. Wonderful? Your phone call went on for a while."

"Oh, well, um," she started slowly. "I was actually planning to tell you tomorrow, but, uh, since you brought it up...he'll actually be in town next weekend. He's planning to take us all out to dinner next Friday. Then Saturday he's taking me to the Berkshires to see the fall foliage. We're staying overnight at a bed and breakfast."

"Oh," I said, biting my tongue. "So dinner will be me, you and him?"

"And Mia," Mom said. "He said we can pick any place we want. I was thinking somewhere in the North End."

While Mom was busy thinking of restaurants, I was busy pondering the rate at which all this was happening so quickly.

"So him and his daughter?"

Finally, she stopped rambling, turning her head.

"Yeah," Mom replied. "We both agreed that if we really intend to move forward with this relationship, then both of our children need to be part of it." Even high, I could tell she was completely serious. Her voice lowered to a sobering tone. "Now, Chris listen, this is very important. About six years ago, two years after his divorce, Doug's ex died in a car crash. She was killed by a drunk driver. Doug basically raised Mia by himself. So when it comes to his daughter, as you can imagine, he's very overprotective, worse than me. You get what I'm saying?"

"Keep my dick in pants."

"Exactly," she said, nodding her head. "I mean it, Chris. I swear, if you even lay a finger on her, God knows what'll happen, but it won't be good."

If nothing else, I had to respect Mom's honesty. Yet, inside, it felt like I finally understood her priorities. Above all, she was more concerned about Doug's feelings, along with protecting her own security, which solidly placed me last on the list, sealing my decision to break up her relationship with Doug, by any means necessary, leaving no doubt that Mia Vincent was going to be my next conquest.

* * *

Saturday morning, Mom and I planned to sleep in and go out for breakfast. Then Cynthia called and woke us up around 7:30.

Half awake, I listened as Mom slowly got up, mumbling into her phone.

"Mm hmm...sure, sounds good...yeah, I'll bring him. Uh huh, we'll be right down."

"What was that about?" I asked, one eye open.

"Cynthia wants us to come down for breakfast. She sounded stressed. Guess she wants to talk."

"Really," I said, with a light flutter in my stomach. "Why so early?"

"I'm sure it's about last night." She stood up and walked to her closet, fully naked. "Anyway, get dressed. It shouldn't take long."

Hauling out of bed, I rubbed my eyes, sighing, as Mom rifled through her shirts.

"Shouldn't I shower first?"

Frowning, Mom peered at me behind her closet door. "You took two last night. I think you're clean enough."

With most of her make-up worn off overnight, brown hair long and frizzy, she came out wearing a light denim shirt, no bra, no panties, shirt buttoned half way. After hustling downstairs, she waited for me by the door, where I came down barefoot, in khaki shorts, and a black Walking Dead T-shirt.

On the first floor, we let ourselves in, Mom leading me down the hallway, headed toward the kitchen, where we found Cynthia busily preparing breakfast.

Over hip-hop coming from the living room, Cynthia combined looking sexy and domestic, dancing to "The Motto," hips popping side to side, with fresh fruit and orange juice waiting on the table, her son, Miles bouncing and giggling in his high seat, smiling on our arrival.

Half asleep, I walked in, shuffling like a zombie, noting how Cynthia's tits jiggled as she spun forward, greeting us with energy likely from too much caffeine.

"Good morning," she smiled, speaking a mile a minute. "I have to tell you, I'm not the best cook. But Joel went to Natick to buy supplies. My nanny has the weekend off. So it's just us...and I really needed to see you guys."

"It's fine," Mom said, giving her a hug. "Last night was crazy for everyone. I think we're all still in shock. What are you making?"

"Oh, um, I thought I'd try making some blueberry muffins," Cynthia said. "I just put them in. Meanwhile, help yourself to some fresh strawberries or a glass of orange juice. There's coffee too. Make yourself at home."

Moving toward the table, Mom sat first. Then I walked over and sat to her left, facing the cabinets. Glancing up, I watched as Cynthia turned around, reached up and struggled to pull down a coffee mug high above the sink. Raised on her toes, her little arms stretched overhead, with white letters spelling out "Juicy," on the back of her hot pink boy shorts.

In full agreement with the apt description stretched out across her butt, my eyes fell from the plentiful thickness of her bulging asscheeks, to the fatty region where ass meets thigh, and the sudden hike of her shorts, where in spite of her soft, fleshy, visible lack of muscle, my dick was still throbbing as I looked over and saw Cynthia's buns pop out, jiggling as she came down and set her heels firmly on the floor.

Mug in hand, she turned back, stopping to take the coffee off the brewer. Filling her mug, she walked back, setting the mug down on the table.

"Did you want some coffee?" she asked Mom.

"Oh, no thank you. I was about to ask if you have tea."

"Sure, we've got Lipton. I'll just have to boil some water."

"I'll get it," I said, jumping up, stepping around the baby.

"Oh, okay," Cynthia said, scooping Miles out of his seat. "I actually need to feed him, so I really appreciate your help," she said, sitting down, leaning toward Mom. "You don't mind if I do that while he's in here, do you?"

"No, not at all." Mom shook her head. "It's perfectly natural."

As she untied the knot, Cynthia reached up behind her head, causing the apron to slip down over her mountainous breasts. Standing by the microwave, I looked on as Cynthia sat there in front of Mom, chatting away, huge tits plainly visible, even from behind, heavily sagging from her chest. With the front of her tank top pulled down over her right nipple, Miles clamped his little mouth, sucking and cooing, happily nursing from his mother's breast.

"So I want you to know how lucky we feel to have you both living here," Cynthia said. "We honestly couldn't ask for better tenants. I really mean that."

"Thanks," Mom replied. "Chris and I feel the same way. It feels almost like..."

"Family," Cynthia assumed, finishing her thought.

"Exactly," Mom nodded back. "Definitely feels like family."

"Right, I totally agree. So I guess that's why after last night, I feel like we need to clear up a few things."

Standing by the counter, I closely followed their conversation. The microwave went off. Then I reached in and took out a steaming mug of hot water.

"Well, yeah," Mom answered. "I definitely left the party with a few questions. I'm sure you did too."

"Okay," Cynthia said. "So let's just put everything out on the table. I'll let you start. What do you want to know?"

Placing a tea bag in the steaming cup, I turned back and asked Mom a question.

"Honey?"

"Yes, sweetie?"

"No, I meant...would you like some honey?"

"Oh," I caught her blushing. "Um, yes...just a little."

"Wow," Cynthia said, holding Mile's head to her breast. "I hope my son's as good to me when he's your age."

I smiled, shaking my head. Keep pulling those tits out. See what happens.

Looking through the cabinets, I came across a plastic bottle, filled with honey. Knowing Mom's diet, I poured in just a few drops. Then I placed the mug next to her on the table.

"I have a question," I said, taking my seat again. "What's up with you and Dante?" I asked, leading both women to blush.

For five minutes, in great detail, Cynthia explained how she and Joel went through what she described as a "rough patch" in their marriage, before meeting Megan, who helped them to be more open with each other, improving their trust, allowing each other the freedom to enjoy more sexual exploration.

"So Joel likes to watch you with other guys?" Mom asked.

Cynthia nodded. "Mostly black guys, gets him off...I don't ask why."

"Okay, so Megan introduced you to Dante. I get that," Mom continued. "But last night you told Jasmine that Dante was paying you two thousand dollars an hour. So what is he, like...a pimp, or something?" she asked, prompting me to butt in.

"He's not like a pimp. He is a pimp," I said, raising my voice. "Why would you work for him? You've got a kid."

"Because," Cynthia replied. "Megan trusts him. So I figure I can too. He's not a bad person. He's really no different than your average executive. He's smart, safe..."

"And extremely sexy," Mom added. "I'm sure that's part of the appeal."

As I listened, I reached out and helped myself to a strawberry. After one bite, I turned and offered the rest to Mom.

"Mmm, these are good," I said, raising it toward her lips.

Like a reflex, Mom instantly took the berry in her mouth, biting down, juices rolling down her chin.

"Mmm," she said, still chewing. "Thank you."

Raising her eyebrows, Cynthia sat there, silent, staring at Mom.

Swallowing, Mom turned to Cynthia, questioning again. "So, I don't get it...I mean, don't you have any qualms about working for him...won't it hurt your career?"

Cynthia shrugged. "Not really." She lifted Miles to her shoulder. "This is my job now." She gently rubbed his back. "Joel and I want another baby. So I probably won't go back. Working for Dante one night a month, I can easily earn the same salary, probably more. Plus, I like that I don't have to be so dependent on Joel for money all the time."

Hearing her logic, I purposely refrained from comment, though it actually did make sense.

"Hmm," Mom said, slightly nodding. "I guess those are all good reasons. Plus, if it makes you happy, and you're sure Joel's okay with it, then that's all that matters...as long as you're being careful."

"We are," Cynthia said. "Dante knows what he's doing. And I meant to tell you, he really liked you." The oven timer went off. "I mean, he really liked you...asked me about your situation and everything."

"Oh," Mom frowned. "You mean, like...working for him...me?"

Cynthia stood up, cradling Miles near her head. "Sounded it like it to me. If I were you, I'd think about it, especially being a single mom."

"There's no way," Mom said, shaking her head. "The school where I teach is run by the city. If anyone found out, I'd be fired on the spot. It's not worth it." She reached for the baby. "Here," she offered. "I'll take him for a minute."

"Oh, thanks." Cynthia handed the baby over, upon which she offered Mom a cloth napkin. Gratefully, Mom accepted, draping it neatly over her left shoulder.

Perhaps Megan could have explained it. Yet, I instantly felt a connection between Mom's innocent offer to take Cynthia's baby, holding him lovingly like her own, and the suddenly rampant condition of my painful erection, throbbing inside my shorts.

Cynthia turned and walked toward the oven, as Mom gently relieved the baby's gas, softly rubbing, lightly patting him on the back

"I can go put him down for his nap, while you finish getting things ready," Mom said, standing up, moving toward the bedroom.

"That would be great," Cynthia smiled, pulling the pan from the oven, laying it on the stove. "I need to let these cool for a while. Hope you're not starving."

Mom turned. "We're fine," she said, moving toward Cynthia's room. "We stayed up last night and had cereal before we went to bed. No rush."

As Mom slipped off, Cynthia joined me at the table, leaning forward, whispering for some odd reason.

"Can I ask you something?" By the time I nodded, she'd already launched into her next sentence. "I just find it kind of weird that you and your mother are so close. I mean, it's cool and all. But didn't it feel awkward having sex in front of her last night?"

With a mild grin, munching another strawberry, I turned back, answering with a sniff.

"Hmm, I was wondering when you'd ask me that. You know I've been going to Megan for counseling too. She's really helped us a lot with our relationship, being more open with each other, like you and Joel, same thing."

Cynthia furrowed her brow. "How is it the same thing? Joel and I are married. You two are mother and son. Am I missing something?"

I leaned forward, clearing my throat, sensing an opportunity. "Okay," I whispered back. "I'll explain everything on one condition...you have to show Mom your video."

As I leaned back, Cynthia's eyes gaped wide open, turning as Mom returned.

"Baby's sleeping, snug as a bug," she said. "Did I miss anything?"

"Cynthia wants us to watch her video," I said, speaking up first.

Clearly unnerved, Cynthia glanced at the table, where both of us saw the same fork. I could see her in face she was tempted to reach, resisting the urge to stab me.

Looking puzzled, Mom stammered. "Oh, um, okay...I usually like my porn after breakfast, but...what the hell," she shrugged, "why not?"

The three of us moved to the living room, where Mom and Cynthia sat down on opposite ends of the couch, leaving an open space for me in the middle. Taking a couple minutes to hook up her laptop to the TV, I then walked over and sat down between them.

As the footage began, for my first effort, I had to say the video was pretty damn hot. From the opening moments, beginning with Cynthia stripping, then kneeling down, sucking four cocks at once, the challenge for me was sitting there, one eye focused on the screen, while the same blue-eyed, big-titted blonde sat half naked, inches away, with thin straps barely hiding her nipples under her white tank top, leaving 38 inches of huge supple breasts broadly exposed to my frequent glances.

With her lush bosom pressed up against my arm, Cynthia leaned in, turning her head, clearly more interested in my reaction than the screen.

Meanwhile, siting to my left, the sight of Cynthia gobbling down four giant cocks had Mom totally riveted, one leg folded beneath the other, flashing the landing strip over her hairless cunt.

Moments later, Mom finally offered her first comment.

"So you and Byron look pretty friendly. When did that start?"

"Oh, um, right before you moved in," Cynthia said. "It happened purely by accident, but, um...I don't know. There's just something there." Her cheeks flushed.

"Oh, I can see that," Mom grinned, "and it's pretty huge."

Cynthia smiled back. "I know right. It makes me nervous. We have this great chemistry. It all started as something I did just for Joel. He loves watching me with other guys. I'd never do anything to hurt him. It's just confusing, you know. I mean, I haven't told him yet, but the other night, Byron offered to take me on a real date."

"Wow," Mom said. "What did you say?"

Cynthia sighed, scratching her head. "I told him I'd think about it. But I'm nervous about that too. I mean, he's only 22. His dick is like a foot long. What if I can't keep up? Or what if he realizes how much I suck in bed? Before last night, I couldn't even deep throat..."

"Hmm," Mom said, glancing at me. "What if we helped you practice?"

Cynthia frowned. "Practice? You mean, like, right now?"

"Uh huh," Mom said, nodding emphatically. "You watched Chris with Jasmine last night. You've seen his equipment. I'm pretty sure if you can handle that, you can handle anything."

Cynthia went quiet, mulling it over. Meanwhile, Mom scooted over, nudging my arm.

"It's okay. Pull it out," she mildly insisted. "I think we should help her."

Following orders, I reached down and calmly unzipped my shorts. Fully erect, same as every morning, knowing she'd seen it before, I pulled out my hefty cock, proudly seizing it through my open fly.

Turning my head, struck by the color of Cynthia's sparkling, blue irises, I caught how she gazed down, watching me haul out my lumber, eyes yawning, feigning surprise, as I reached up, gripping my veiny shaft by the base, head flaring, cock throbbing, flagging between my open legs.

Looking down, her right hand trembled, curling her fingers below the head. Her lips parted, as she slowly bent over, eyes lifting toward Mom.

"Don't focus on me," Mom whispered. "Focus on feeling it throb in your mouth."

Cock in hand, sizing it up, seeming uncertain where to start, unlike the ravenous slut on screen, the real Cynthia took a more tentative approach.

As her head timidly bowed over my lap, I assumed Mom's presence, combined with a lack of alcohol, lessened her usual confidence, lips quivering, closing gingerly over the broad mushroom tip.

My greatest pleasure was feeling her nerves as my cock slipped gently into her mouth. With reverence, her fingers trembled, softly gripping the shaft, as if almost questioning if she was worthy of having my dick in her mouth.

Sliding the knob over her tongue, she took me down halfway, lightly sucking, with wonderful pressure, needing a bit more spit. Bobbing and sucking, she built up her rhythm, age difference fading as she serviced me. Regardless of being in her mid-30s, I was the one training her to deep throat, placing me fully in charge.