750-02 Saturday Afternoon

Content Note: This is a little story for the 750 Word Project 2023. Beneath this line are exactly 750 words

You schlepped through the house picking up after the girls, Vicki and Marci, something you've been doing for nineteen years. Even though they're skiing with their friends this weekend, their ability to scatter clothing through the house has kept you busy since their first steps. Scattering clothing was Marci's forte, the eighteen year old girl had a wardrobe that would rival a fashion model, and she has the figure of one also. Something she doesn't get from your side of the family you sigh.

After starting a load of laundry, you went in search of dishes. Scattering dishes was something that Vicki excelled at. For the nineteen year old scholar, no nook or cranny in the house was safe from her as she plopped down to study or read a book, usually with a snack. She never left her books lying about but her dishes was a different story. That girl can snack twenty hours straight and lose weight in the process, something that she doesn't get from your side of the family either.

You stack your armload of Vicki's dishes in the sink and reluctantly begin scraping and rinsing, then loading them in the dishwasher. James always did the dishes. It's not that he was particularly good at the job, but he was faithful at it. You look back at life with James, sixteen years of marriage, three job related relocations, two daughters and one drunk driver. You, the girls, and the drunk survived the accident, James didn't.

After a quick shower to clear the cobwebs of ancient sorrow more than to settle the dust, you study yourself in the mirror. Small breasts, wide hips... at least your tummy still resembles flat... sort of. A sudden movement behind you in the mirror catches your attention but you're too slow. A pillowcase is pulled over your head and your arms are caught. There's two of them, and they're strong! They worked silently, twisting your arms together and binding your wrists in front of you.

You shriek in horror and fight back with everything you have but they don't care, they throw you on the bed and in an embarrassing short period of time they have you tied out spread eagle. All this time they are silent as you cry out in terror. Then, as you gasp for breath you hear a zipper... "NO!" you shriek. No man has touched you since you met James. "Why are you doing this?" you demand at the top of your lungs.

Suddenly the pillowcase was pulled from your head. "Jennifer? Rebecca?" you gasp in shock. "Why aren't you skiing with the girls?" Two of your girls' beautiful friends stood by your bed naked, young firm breasts, erect nipples, trim waists, eager smiles but concern in their eyes.

"It's time to rejoin the human race Mrs. Buchannon," said the elegant brunette, dusky skinned Jennifer.

"It's not good to be sad so long," said the cute, busty, mousy haired Rebecca. "We miss your smile, Missus B."

"Girls, this isn't the way to do it," you pled but you were helpless, and they wouldn't stop. Skilled mouths and fingers descended and soon they played your body like a harp. Tentative, almost nervous little kisses peppered your breasts as Jennifer started on your left breast and Rebecca started on your right. "Girls stop!" you ordered, but like your daughters Vicki and Marci, they ignored you. Then gentle tongues began to flicker at your nipples that have gone for years feeling nothing but your own touch. As you tried to ignore the sensations their mouths stirred up, fingers began to gently glide up and down your legs, stroking your inner thighs, lighting fires long subdued by sadness.

You whimpered as Jennifer took position between your widespread legs and began to kiss your weeping pussy, dear God she was good! She licked and nibbled your clit as two slender fingers explored your pussy. Rebecca remained at your breasts, pinching, twisting, nipping, the sensations were overwhelming. You stopped fighting and soon you stopped trying to remain quiet. Your orgasm began to build as the girls made sweet love to you.

And now it hit, the first orgasm in years not of your making struck like a hammer. Your hips thrust upwards against Jennifers playful mouth as waves of ecstasy crashed over you, wiping away years of sorrow. And when it was over and your body shuddered, you glanced up at the smiling girls. It was going to be a long afternoon.