Christmas Presents

I suppose that Christmas was always going to be rather different this year. My husband Alex was killed in a car accident back in February and during a lonely Christmas Eve sat in front of the Television, I realised that this was the first one I'd ever spent alone in my entire life.

A little normality was restored with the arrival of my daughters Samantha and Abigail, along with their husbands Chris & Phil on Christmas morning and that was also confirmation that this was a year of transition year. Both girls were heavily pregnant -- 28 weeks and 33 weeks -- so Alex was gone, but by next Christmas there'd finally be grandchildren for me to spoil and dote upon.

Though coming from opposite directions, both couples arrived only minutes apart, just after 11:00 am and the two men headed almost immediately to the village pub -- in previous years Alex would've joined them too -- while the girls assisted me in putting the finishing touches to our Christmas Lunch. The last dish was being placed on the table when Chris and Phil walked back through the front door at 12:55 pm -- One o'clock has always been the time of our Christmas Dinner, so don't you dare be late! - and in Alex's absence, it now fell to Chris to carve our turkey.

The meal was over by 14:30 and following tradition, The girls and I retired to the lounge with a bottle of Cointreau whilst the guys cleared the table and washed-up; or loaded and set-going the dishwasher anyway, before joining us to watch the Queen's speech on TV. Having watched and discussed that, it was time for the exchange of family presents; never anything very exciting in our household nowadays: Books, sweaters, socks, perfume and the like; perhaps it'll become more exciting again once those grandchildren are a few years old? With those cleared away we generally enjoy a few silly games ahead of tea, which the lads assisted me in preparing while Samantha and Abigail cleared-up afterwards.

The girls were quite a while in doing that, as several food items needed packing and loading into Chris & Samantha's car which they'd take home with them that evening, while Phil & Abigail were to stay over with me for the night. We three would then de-camp to Chris & Sam's for an early lunch before going to watch the Bath versus Gloucester rugby match in the afternoon; with one daughter living in each city, Boxing Day lunch's location had long been dictated by whichever stadium that game was being played at. It was almost 7:30 pm when the girls reappeared in the lounge doorway and Samantha announced: "Right, that's everything packed, loaded and ready to go; so it's time to give out the rest of the Christmas presents before we do."

I'd no idea what she was talking about and from the nonplussed looks on Chris and Phil's faces, they too were also in the dark. It was Abigail who set the ball rolling: "As Mum can no doubt appreciate, pregnancy plays hell with your hormones, so occasionally you're in the mood to fuck anything with a pulse, but for the most part, particularly in these latter stages, sex is just too much of a chore..." It might've been twenty-odd years ago, but I knew exactly what my daughter meant and couldn't help but nod in agreement. "...So, our present to ourselves, is that until after our babies are born, there will be no requests, suggestions or even hints of our having sex, issued by anyone other than ourselves; if we don't specifically invite it, you two will keep your cocks in your pants."

I couldn't help smiling and wishing that I'd been similarly strict with Alex all those years ago; though in my heart of hearts, I knew that Alex would never have stood for such an edict even had I issued it. Chris and Phil looked far from happy with Abi's pronouncement, but neither was as... traditional, as Alex had been and their eventual nods of assent suggested that both would adhere to the girls' bedroom embargoes.

Now it was Sam's turn: "You don't need to look so despondent, we'd not cut-off you off completely; we know neither of you would survive three or four months of no sex, God you'd both have blistered hands or bursting balls long before then. No, our Christmas present to you is that while we're out of commission we'll allow you to fuck yourselves stupid with a willing and compliant whore whenever you want." The expressions of both men were a picture, an amalgam of excitement, confusion and jaw-dropping surprise.

I was still smiling at the boys' discombobulation when Sam turned her attention to me: "As for you mummy; well, I doubt that either Chris or Phil could subject you to the sort abusive debauchery that you so enjoyed with Dad, but the two of them together...?

It was Abigail who concluded: "So that's our Christmas present to you mum; whenever Phil or Chris start feeling horny, you're to be the willing and compliant whore that they'll be fucking. Whether that's individually or together they'll no doubt decide for themselves, but they can start working it out tonight; Sam and I are heading over to hers and we're leaving the guys here to enjoy themselves with you..." Turning back toward Chris and Phil, Abigail almost casually added: "...get yourselves to Gloucester no later than 11:30 in the morning; Sam & I expect you to deliver mummy exhausted and still dripping."

The boys were staring open-mouthed - I was perhaps no different? - looking back and forth between myself and their wives. Finally I found my own voice, albeit less than coherently: "Samantha, Abigail... What are you saying? I can't... I won't... It's... How could you even think... I've never... Your father and I didn't... he was always... besides which, those two are your husbands, not mine... I'm not-"

Both my daughters were now openly grinning at me, but it was Samantha who slapped her hand against the wall in interruption: "We grew up in this house mother and the walls are paper thin! We might not have understood when we were younger, but once we'd grown up... We sometimes heard the whispered 'Stop It's', the 'No's' and your pleading for mercy, we often heard Dad's coarse replies too along with the occasional slap, but what we never failed to hear was what followed; your squeals of delight, vulgar encouragements and most especially those screaming orgasms. Dad used you like a slut and you loved every submissive moment of it; I'm betting that you've been wearing your fingers to the bone this last year without him?"

I didn't reply, I couldn't! Then again, I really didn't need to; I suspect that my downcast eyes and a face flushed in embarrassment were all the confirmation needed; perhaps not 'fingers worn to the bone', but I wouldn't have been at all surprised if I'd spent more on batteries for my 'toys' in this last ten months than I had in the preceding ten years! I was still head bowed in shame when I heard my daughters leave the room, with one of them exclaiming: "Take her any way that you want, but be at Gloucester by eleven-thirty; don't dare be late!"

We listened as the girls passed through the front door, Chris's car started and Samantha reversed off the driveway; the girls hadn't been playing a joke, they really meant what they'd said. The car had driven away before anyone moved or even spoke and when they did, it was me: I rose from the couch while mumbling about the girls being ridiculous and their 'joke' being in very poor taste; I was intent on seeking the sanctuary of my bedroom.

I was only halfway to my feet when Chris responded: Leaping up from the couch he caught me by the wrist and pulled me roughly forward; I tumbled to the floor in an untidy heap and by the time that I'd climbed to my knees he was standing over me unfastening the buttons and zip of his trousers. Still craving sanctuary I turned away, intent on crawling to the door, but Chris' hand in my hair put paid to that, jerking me back toward him; I was back at his feet when his swollen prick sprung free and he roughly growled: "You wouldn't believe how often I've dreamt of parting those lips Helen." I made an effort to evade him but another twist of my hair had me gasping in pain and Chris didn't allow that opportunity to pass, his other hand guided his cock into my wide-open mouth.

The fight left me immediately; I knew it was outrageous -- he was barely half my age and married to my eldest daughter for God's sake! - but I do love the taste and feel of a man's shaft in my mouth and it'd been far too long since I'd enjoyed the last one. Chris used the coarsest of language as he ordered me to 'suck-him-dry', his tone of voice so reminiscent of my husband's; I was eager to comply with his demand, but the aggressive way in which he was penetrating my mouth simply wouldn't allow it. His cock was bouncing against the roof of my mouth or stretching my cheeks with each thrust.

I'd known similar with Alex and drawing upon that experience I sank lower and tilted my head backward, offering a straighter channel for his assault; two fingers around the base of his erection applied a slight downward pull and our bodies were aligned. Chris' next powerful thrust saw his shaft pass smoothly through my mouth and onward, deep into my throat; in the moment when his scrotum slapped against my chin Chris' vulgar tirade was replaced by an open-mouthed silence.

Chris was immobile, wide-eyed at the way I'd accommodated his cock and had I not in that moment taken over the task of arranging his withdrawal, I would've choked; I wasn't surprised, Alex too had been enamoured of my ability to perform that trick. I'd withdrawn far enough to lash his cock-head with my tongue and re-swallow three times more before Chris recovered from his trance and found his voice: "Fuck me Helen, you're incredible!"

Once again able to violate my throat for himself, Chris did so whilst providing a running commentary aimed at Phil: "You have got to try this bro, this cock-hungry slut can swallow it all; for fucks sake I can see her throat stretch as it goes down. Stop pissing about just watching and grab a piece of her for yourself."

I sensed rather than saw Phil moving behind me and a moment later my dress was lifted and thrown up onto my back; hands stroked along my panty-hose covered thighs and buttocks for a few seconds before they were savagely ripped open; not pulled down, simply torn apart! Fingers brushed across my now naked thighs en-route to my panties which were jerked aside in the instant before a hand roughly covered my pubis and a finger, or perhaps it was two, drove deep into my exposed pussy.

Had it not been for the muting effect of Chris' invading cock Phil's call of "Fuck but the bitch is tight, it's going to be a squeeze to get in there; a good job she's soaking wet." would've been drowned out by my own squeals of delight. When Phil's fingers withdrew and then pressed into me for a second time, my hips drove backward to meet them; just three more similarly harsh penetrations resulted in my first orgasm of that long night.

I've no idea how long I was away with the fairies, but when I regained my senses it was to discover my two sons-in-law discussing me in the crudest of terms: "...antha and Abi were right, the dirty mare is bloody gagging for it."

"Maybe that's why her cunts so tight? Helen's gone too long without a stiff cock to open her up a bit?"

"Then what're you waiting for, get in there; Helen's hardly likely to say 'No', besides, with my cock half way down her throat, she couldn't even if she wanted to."

"You don't mind me getting first crack in her gash; we can toss a coin for it if you want?"

"Nah, you can open her up for both of us, I got her mouth first and I'm bagging first dibs on her arse as well."

"You always were an arse-bandit; but Helen might not do anal."

"Who gives a shit what Helen does or doesn't do? The girls told us we could take her any way we want and I intend burying myself in that tight little arse before we've finished with her."

That caught my attention quickly enough! I'd never been violated there, my bum was still virgin; not because I hadn't wanted to -- though I hadn't! - but because anal wasn't to Alex's taste; had he wanted to fuck me in the arse, I wouldn't have been given a choice! My daughters hadn't misunderstood; I might be a well educated, free-thinking and emancipated woman when out in the big wide world, but that had counted for nothing inside the bedroom.

As I'm sure applies to many thousands of women and perhaps millions more who don't care to admit it; my sexuality isn't triggered by the mores and conventions taught in girlhood, but by the primeval instincts passed down through the generations over thousands of years: Having once garnered the alpha-male's favour, in order to retain his powerful seed for the siring her offspring alone that chosen mate accommodates and submits to his every demand and desire. My alpha-male might've died, but my daughters it seemed had casually gifted me to two more! Not that I was allowed very long for such anthropological ruminations -- probably less time than it took to write?

Phil's fingers withdrew from my pussy and the far larger intrusion of his cock nuzzled at my vulva; only a moment later it penetrated, drawing a gasp which bubbled past Chris' cock inside my mouth -- Wow! My pussy may well have constricted during the months since Alex had died, but Phil was undoubtedly well hung; despite the lubricity of my passage, he worked hard to drive himself home. Phil's assault wasn't rough, but he was certainly forceful, even so, it took four powerful strokes before I felt his balls bounce against my mons to tell me I'd accommodated him completely.

I was being spit-roasted, penetrated from both ends at once and almost alone that thought brought me to an immediate and more forceful climax than I'd had on Phil's fingers. I'd never had two men inside me at once -- Alex didn't share his toys - but it was something which I'd often imagined and more often than might be considered healthy, it had been my two sons-in-law whom had assaulted me in those fantasies; for once in life the reality had exceeded my expectations.

I recovered from that orgasm to find both boys already using me, though Phil's thrusts were more measured than before; perhaps necessary in allowing the boys to co-ordinate their penetrations? It was certainly Chris's violation which was again the more dominant one as he stroked deep into my throat, once again commentating his assault with the crudest of language. Perhaps a minute or so later Chris' deeply-spearing cock came to rest in my mouth and he muttered "time to show me what else you can do Helen; I'm betting that you suck like a leech." Even as I made to comply, I felt Phil begin to plough into my pussy with increased vigour; they seemed so comfortably coordinated, had they shared a woman before? Surely not one or other of my daughters.

Sharing the load so to speak enabled the boys to maintain their self-control for a good ten minutes, perhaps even quarter of an hour; while pinioned between them without such respites, I'd climaxed two or three times more before then. It was Chris who let go first, announced with a deep growl he went off like a fire hose in my mouth, that first emission caught the back of my throat and as I coughed, wretched and pushed him away; the rest of his seed was sprayed across my face, hair and the bodice of my dress, what a mess, Chris was certainly... copious.

I was still struggling to clear my airway when Phil unleashed his seed into me at the other end, heralded with a little more coherence, though perhaps no more erudition: "Ooh that's it you dirty cow, I'm gunna fill your cunt with come till it overflows!" That said, Phil was as accurate as he was crude; I could feel his semen and no doubt my own secretions trickling down the inside of both thighs when he withdrew to squeeze out the last drops between my buttocks as he concluded: "That'll help prime her arse for you Chris."

With their balls emptied and lusts apparently sated Phil and Chris casually grabbed themselves a beer apiece as they high-fived each other, then proceeded to discuss my performance in the most lurid of language while I remained slumped on the floor like a discarded toy... perhaps that's exactly how they saw me? Only when I began climbing to my feet did they stop ignoring me; both turned in my direction and Phil enquired "and where do you think you're going Helen? We've not finished with you yet; not by a long chalk."

My head was again bowed, I couldn't look at them, hell everything about me was bowed! I nodded my acceptance, then pleaded that I needed the bathroom, I needed to clean up and that most of all I needed my bed; I was tired. The boys exchanged glances whereafter Phil gave a nod of assent and I stumbled toward the door; I was halfway through it before Chris spoke: "Don't bother putting a nightgown or anything else on after your shower Helen, we'll only have to rip it off you... and find some lubricant to take to the bedroom with you too, we'll be up to join you after another beer and I'm having your sweet arse."

It was Phil who concluded "I might even try that too... if you're feeling tired now Helen, you're going be bloody exhausted by the time we've finished with you."

My legs were trembling so hard that I could barely climb the stairs, my stomach too was churning as I replayed their words. Trepidation... no, outright fear at what those two had in store for me; they were going to... to... use me, as no one ever had before. I was in the shower, legs still like jelly, when the realisation hit me; perhaps the hand that in that moment was washing between my legs was significant? It wasn't fear that had me quaking, it was excited anticipation; I'd never felt so aroused in my bloody life!

Chris and Phil didn't keep me waiting for very long and there was no question of my putting on a nightgown; I was barely through my bedroom door before they followed me through it and a minute later, I was knelt on the bed surrendering my anal cherry. I commended myself for having the foresight to lubricate my bum -- both inside and out! - before leaving the bathroom and to be fair, Chris too seemed to be lubed-up -- I'd no idea with what.

Chris' initial entry into my bum perhaps wasn't as savage as I'd envisaged, that said, it was certainly insistent; having guided the tip of his cock to my entrance and forced its crown through the tight starburst of my bum, drawing a strangled 'No!' from my throat, his hands settled firmly on my hips. Chris' second thrust left me in no doubt that my tightest channel would soon be penetrated to his full length and that any further dissent on my part would be equally futile.

Chris' penetrations were forceful but controlled, an inch at time with a few seconds respite between each, allowing me time to wriggle, gasp and squeal in accommodation of each fresh and deeper invasion. As Chris probed deeper, my responding yelps rose higher, until Chris growled an instruction to Phil: "Get your cock in her mouth before we have the neighbours coming round to investigate." I think in that moment Chris was overstating the noise that I was making, but a few seconds later perhaps not?

Phil's prick press deeply between my lips in the same instant that I felt Chris' balls slap against the moist lips of my pussy at the culmination of his next thrust. My submission was complete I was being spit roasted for the second time in my life and this time as part of a more -- perhaps the most! - sordid of assaults; that realisation triggered a climax to surpass even that of my first spit-roasting and had Phil's cock not been filling my mouth I'm sure my screams of release would've woken the dead, never mind my neighbours!

My abrupt capitulation drew a further round of cheers and high-fives between the boys, though I did recover some semblance of dignity a few moments later: Pressing back on Chris' still buried cock in conjunction with a clench of my rectal muscles, saw him too collapsing in a wild and noisy climax; got you, you arrogant bastard! For long seconds after Chris lay sprawled across my back, groaning incoherently as he pumped his seed into my accommodating bowel; when Chris did re-surface, he did so with a snarl: "You've gotta get in here Phil... the dirty mare loves it; Helen's the sweetest and tightest fuck I've ever had, she's a right fucking arse-whore."