Mother and Daughter

Now was the time for serious post-coital cuddling—something Rhonda also liked a lot, and she was delighted that Gary seemed to like it too. Positioning himself once again with his head between her breasts, he gave those globes almost obsessive attention; it was as if he was some huge baby suckling at his mother's teats. His devotions were so vigorous that she was on the verge of having another mini-climax (her nipples were incredibly sensitive); but then she noticed that she wasn't the only one getting stimulated. Gary was experiencing another swelling in the area of his groin.

"You want another go?" she said happily.

"Maybe," he said ruminatively.

She now noticed that he had for some time been squeezing and stroking her bottom, while continuing to nuzzle on her nipples. So it wasn't entirely surprising when he said, "I don't suppose I could go in back here?"

She sighed inwardly. Do I really have to let this guy invade my derrière to prevent him from wandering off and bopping some other, younger babe?

"I haven't done that in a long time," she admitted.

"How long?" he said.

She wished he hadn't asked that question, for her answer would only emphasize their difference in age. "Let's just say it was something I did in my wild college days." She left it to him to figure out how long ago that was.

He grinned out of the side of his mouth. "Well, I guess you never forget. It's kind of like riding a bicycle."

She wasn't sure she appreciated that kind of humor. But she said, "Okay."

The next thing to do was to find some lube. The idea of one of them trudging to the bathroom to fish through the medicine cabinet was not appealing; but Gary spotted a tube of moisturizer on the nightstand, and he suggested that.

She was hesitant. It was a high-end brand name product. That stuff isn't cheap, I'll have you know! But she said, "Fine."

Before she could reach for it, he'd snatched it up himself. She looked at him askance.

"You're not really going to put your fingers back there?" she said dubiously.

He smiled genially. "No worries. It's easier for me to reach."

With a little shudder, she flopped onto her stomach and awaited the procedure. The stuff was pretty cold and made her giggle, but she endured the indignity of his probing fingers well enough. She was about to rise up on her hands and knees when he suggested that she stay in a prone position. "This works better."

The comment made Rhonda pause. What are you, some kind of expert in rear entry? But she didn't have much time to think about that: Gary was already on top of her, guiding his cock into that nether orifice with just a little fumbling. All of a sudden he found the aperture and slipped in several inches, leadng Rhonda to gasp at the long-forgotten sensation.

"Easy, guy!" she cried.

"Sorry," he muttered.

But he was determined to go in about as far as he could, and he proceeded slowly but relentlessly until she thought, with some alarm, that he might rupture something back there. Her jaw dropped and her tongue hung slackly out of her mouth, and she clutched the sheets with spasmodic fingers as he began pumping, grinding his hips into her while also reaching around her midsection and seizing her breasts with both hands. In the midst of her pain and confusion, she grasped the reason why Gary liked this position. He was now totally in charge, and Rhonda could do little but endure his thrusts, which became so forceful that there was a wet slapping sound from the contact of his groin to her bottom.

After a time Gary, holding onto both breasts with one hand, slipped a hand down her front and fastened it on her sex. Now all three of Rhonda's major erogenous zones were under his control—pussy, anus, and breasts. She had never felt so helpless, even during those long-ago sessions when randy college boys had poked her in the ass in the midst of alcohol-induced passion. She seemed to lapse into a kind of coma, hardly feeling anything—but at the same time sensing her whole body quake and shudder with pre-orgasmic anticipation. Meanwhile, Gary was pummeling her with abandon.

The pouring out of his seed into that usually forbidden zone of her body triggered a massive, almost mind-numbing climax on her part as well, and both of them let out gagging or choking cries as their respective paroxysms overwhelmed them. Even when it was over, some minutes later, Gary remained fully embedded in her, and once again he collapsed with all his weight on her, continuing to clutch her breasts and pussy with quivering fingers.

"Please," she whispered desperately, "take it out now. Please."

Groaning heavily, Gary pulled out inch by inch—and to Rhonda it felt as if some enemy was drawing out a sword slowly from her vitals. The final emergence of the knobby tip of his member induced a final little spasm of pain, and she whimpered piteously.

He rolled over and flopped heavily onto his back. He too seemed half-comatose.

But he managed to look over at her with a wan smile. "How was that?"

"It hurt—a lot," she said frankly.

"I'm sorry. But didn't you—?" he asked.

"Didn't I what?" she said, knowing full well what he meant.

"Didn't you come?"

"Yes, I came. I don't know how I came, but I came. Thank you."

He grinned, apparently not sensing the sarcasm in her remarks.

She tried to regain the upper hand. "Listen, guy, you'd better go wash."

"What?" he said uncomprehendingly.

"You need to wash that thing of yours," she said severely. "If you expect me to put it in my mouth—now or later—you're going to have to get it clean. So go wash—with soap!"

"Yes, ma'am," he said glumly, and stumbled out of bed.

As he headed toward the door, she cried out, "Don't go out there naked! My daughter—"

"She's asleep," he said with absurd over-confidence.

The bathroom lay at one end of a large, almost room-size landing, opposite the master bedroom. Miranda's bedroom was just to the right of it. Gary wandered groggily in, realizing that he himself had felt a certain amount of pain from that last copulation—not only because it was his second of the evening, but because the tightness of Rhonda's aperture (and, perhaps, an insufficiency of lube) had caused a certain amount of chafing of the delicate skin of his cock. He didn't trouble to turn on the light or close the door of the bathroom. Instead, he stood in front of the large mirror on the medicine cabinet, frankly admiring the contours of his uncovered neck, shoulders, and chest, and at times glancing down at his softening member, not entirely keen on handling it.

That was when Miranda walked into the bathroom.

They both let out gasps of horror and embarrassment. Gary at once placed both hands around his cock, and Miranda—who was still wearing the same short nightgown, and who had gotten a fleeting glimpse of his large organ—just stood and gaped.

"What are you doing here?" she cried.

"I—I need to wash," he said.

She turned her head to one side, puzzled.

Gary heaved a sigh. He wasn't at all clear why he went ahead and explained in such detail what exactly he was doing, standing naked in the bathroom of a house occupied by two fetching women, but his addled brain couldn't think of anything else to say.

"I've just, um, poked your mom in the butt, and she needs me to wash my . . . thing." He glanced down at his cock, which to his alarm was swelling and even quivering. By this time he had dropped his hands to his sides, realizing the futility of trying to conceal his nudity.

"In the butt, eh?" Miranda said with a smirk.

"Yes."

"You like that?"

"Yes."

"Does she?"

"She hadn't done it in a while—quite a while."

"But you just forged ahead?"

"I think she liked it. She, um, came."

"Oh, you made her come? Good for you."

Gary frowned at this pert young creature. This really isn't the kind of conversation we should be having.

But then Miranda, seemingly inheriting some of her mother's take-charge attitude, said, "I'll do that."

Gary's eyes widened in alarm. "You'll do what?"

"I'll wash your cock," she said slowly and precisely, as if speaking to an idiot.

He was so dumbfounded that he simply gazed at her as she strode forward, turned on the tap, took his cock in her hand, spattered some water on it, poured out some liquid soap from a dispenser onto her fingers, rubbed the thick, viscous stuff (surprisingly similar to another substance that had just come out of him) all over his organ, and in general acted like the good little mother tending to the needs of her son.

Now she snatched up a hand towel from a metal rack and rubbed his cock thoroughly—and not entirely gently, as his winces indicated. She scowled at him, as if saying: Come on, guy, be a man and take it! The job was, however, done at last. But it had the awkward effect of making him hard yet again.

Miranda gave it a glance and nodded in approval. "An impressive piece of apparatus, I must say," she said without sarcasm.

Then, staring directly at him, she crossed her arms, seized her nightgown by the shoulders, and pulled it down so that it fell to the floor. She was naked underneath.

Gary let out a gasp. This creature easily equalled—perhaps exceeded—her mother in seductiveness. A pleasing face with regular features, topped with a tousled mass of dark hair; smoothly sloping shoulders; flat stomach, with that aching little mound at her delta; strong thighs, tapered calves, delicate feet; and, of course, high, firm breasts only slightly smaller than Rhonda's, a thick bush covering her sex, and (so far as he could tell from this angle) a curvy bottom that was just made to be fondled by a man.

Miranda boldly pushed Gary backward so that he landed heavily on the toilet seat (the lid was down). His erection was now pointing straight up, and he looked at it as if it was some alien growth whose existence he hadn't suspected before. Miranda, licking her lips and casting a quick glance in the direction of her mother's bedroom, raised a finger to her lips in a familiar gesture (Keep quiet, if you know what's good for you!)—and then strode forward and impaled herself on his cock.

There was no question that Miranda's twat was tighter than her mother's—understandably, since no infant had pushed its way through it. But it was sopping wet, and the sensation was so transporting that Gary's eyes almost rolled back in his head. Miranda, for her part, seized his head and placed it between her breasts—exactly the spot where Gary most wanted it to be. He had a serious breast fetish, and Miranda's largely untouched globes (she was by no means a virgin, but surely had had far fewer men tugging at them than Rhonda had) now completely filled his field of vision, so that he came to believe that nothing else in the world existed but them—and, of course, the pussy that was enfolding his cock with its warmth and wetness. He seized those breasts and sucked and licked and nuzzled with gusto, causing the nipples to become firm and erect as his mouth and tongue enveloped them.

Miranda was bouncing happily up and down on his cock, taking in his entire length into herself. She had rarely experienced a member of these proportions, and she thrilled to the unusual feel of deep penetration and the simultaneous stimulation of her breasts and, now, her bottom by this eager man's hands. Whether the morality of fucking her mother's date concerned her is unlikely. She wasn't exactly Rhonda's biggest fan, and she sensed that her mother had had more than a small share in her father's abandonment of his family. But right now, all she was feeling was the exquisite sensation of being completely filled.

For all her injunctions of silence, Gary couldn't help emitting little whines of mingled pain and pleasure as he now sent his seed into this ravishing female. Miranda tried to muffle his cries by pressing his head still tighter against her breasts; but she also let out some gasps and gargles as her partner's climax triggered one of her own. She continued bouncing, even if gently, until Gary was entirely drained; and even then, she kept him firmly ensconced in her, as if willing him to remain hard.

But at last she got up—and immediately a dollop of his come leaked out of her and dripped down the insides of her thighs. Giggling at the sight, she grabbed some Kleenex to wipe up the mess, telling Gary, "You'd better wash again. Mom might smell or taste my juices on your thing."

And with that, she tripped delightedly out of the room.

Gary wasn't quite sure of the reality of what had just happened—but then the aching of his cock after this third climax convinced him that this bizarre episode had really and truly occurred. In a daze, he wandered over to the sink, heeding Miranda's advice to give his cock yet another wash. He took his time at it, not entirely keen on having to perform yet again if his nominal date for the evening, Rhonda, was still feeling amorous.

But as he stepped into the landing, he heard strange noises coming out of Miranda's bedroom. Frowning with concern, he made his way there.

On the bed, lying face down and still naked, was his young partner in impromptu intercourse. Standing over her, also naked, was her mother. In her hand was what looked like a ping-pong paddle: a round wooden thing with a thin covering of rubber, with an array of tight ridges all over it. This object—which Rhonda was holding in a vengeful right hand—was now being directed toward Miranda's bare bottom.

Already, that butt was bright pink from more than a dozen whacks that Rhonda, grunting with effort, had inflicted on her wayward daughter. Miranda, meanwhile, was clutching the sheets with her hands and enduring the punishment as best she could. What began as moans and groans now metamorphosed into squeals and then actual screams.

"Mom, Jesus!" she cried. "You can't do this to me! I'm a grown woman!"

"You're also a slut and a whore!" Rhonda spat back.

Gary gaped as he took in the incredible sight. "Christ, Rhonda!" he cried. "What are you doing?"

Rhonda paused in her whacking. "What does it look like, pea-brain?" she said unkindly. "I'm getting back at both of you for your treachery." Waving the paddle menacingly in his direction, she went on, "And you're next, buster!"

Rhonda resumed her paddling. By now, the tears were flowing from Miranda's eyes, and she had lapsed into a kind of hopeless passivity, just waiting for the hideous ordeal to be over. Gary noticed with interest that, every time Rhonda whacked her daughter, little drops of his emission spurted out of her vagina. This so enraged her mother that she renewed her punishment with greater enthusiasm.

"Rhonda, please!" Gary pleaded. "You have to stop this!"

The older woman, incredibly, did pause in mid-whack. She gazed up and down at her erstwhile lover, peering with particular fixity at his groin. And not without reason: the sight of these two luscious women, nude as the day they were born, had impelled Gary to sprout yet another erection. It was quite painful, but he couldn't help himself.

Rhonda now seemed to gain a sudden inspiration. Looking down at her prone daughter, then back at Gary, she said to him: "Okay, you. Go into her butt."

"What?" Gary said, aghast.

"You know—the thing you did to me with such energy a little while ago? The thing that led you to saunter into the bathroom, where my daughter took it into her mind to shove that cock into her cunt?"

"Mom, no!" Miranda shrieked. "I've never done that before!"

"First time for everything," Rhonda said shortly. Then to Gary: "Come on, guy. Chop-chop."

"I—I don't think I can manage," Gary muttered.

"You'll manage. I have every faith in you."

"We need some lube, don't we?"

"Ah, lube is for wimps. Just go right in."

Gary sensed that Rhonda was seeking to maximize the pain both for Miranda and himself. Anal sex without lube is no fun for either party! But Gary now caught sight, among the untidy collection of cosmetics that littered a nearby table, some hand lotion in a dispenser. Almost leaping over to it, he squeezed some onto his fingers.

As he applied the stuff to Miranda's posterior, he said, "I'm sorry, dear. I'll try to be gentle."

"Gentle, my foot!" Rhonda exclaimed. "You pummel that anus within an inch of its life!"

Gary, ignoring the virago that Rhonda had become, entered Miranda as tenderly as possible, but the procedure still caused her to whimper like a little girl getting a suppository from a doctor she didn't like. Gary caught sight of Rhonda, who was waving the paddle right in his face with the silent command that he plunge in as far as he could. He felt obliged to do so, and by the time he had gone in about six inches Miranda was starting to make odd choking noises from deep in her throat. Just like her mother, her tongue fell out of her mouth as she unwittingly clenched her sphincter, making the whole operation even more painful.

Gary wasn't even certain he could come (had he ever had four climaxes in one session?—of course, he'd never had a session that involved two women, much less a mother and a daughter). But, somewhat to his mortification, he found himself enjoying the experience. As he had done with Rhonda, he now lay at full length on Miranda, seizing her breasts as he pounded her butt. Miranda was now lying in something like a coma, her eyes glazed and her mouth hanging open. She could have been a sex doll being used in every possible fashion by a lonely bachelor.

And then, to his own amazement, Gary came. Bellowing like a bull, he sent long strings of his emission into Miranda's fundament. He had forgotten to try to bring her to climax by sliding a hand down to her sex, but he sensed that it wouldn't have done much good. She was all but unconscious, and when he pulled out she didn't even register that final twinge of pain when the head of the cock comes out.

"Jesus," he said, "I didn't think I could manage that."

"Well, bully for you, my man," Rhonda said sardonically. "But we're not finished."

Gary's eyes opened wide with alarm. "Oh, Rhonda, there's no way I can do anything else."

"It's not what you're gonna do, it's what I'm gonna do," she said cryptically. And she ordered him back to her own bedroom.

There, still gripping the paddle, she barked an order at him. "Bend over the bed."

It took some time for Gary to realize what she had in store for him. He was so weakened by his four orgasms that he didn't have the wherewithal to resist. So he mumbled a reply and did as he was told, lying with his torso flat on the bed and his legs hanging over the edge.

Rhonda couldn't quite believe her ears when she heard Gary's two-word statement. For a while she desperately tried to believe he'd merely said, "Yes, ma'am," in that same smarmy tone he'd used when she'd demanded that he wash his cock after anal sex with her. But, much as she tried to convince herself otherwise, she knew that what he'd actually said was, "Yes, Mother."

She rolled her eyes. Don't tell me you're one of those guys who have fantasies of sleeping with their mother. Well, if that's the case, I'm happy to go along with the charade.

"Okay, Junior," she snapped, "you're next. It's time for your punishment."

And she began whacking him with gusto.