On the Canal Bank and After

I gasp and groan and try to hold it together by distancing myself. I think about the canal clean-up and what a success the day was. There will be column inches in the local rag, nothing like the inches of column that Amy is so noisily appreciating at this moment, but I'll have my name and picture in the paper. This is the start for me, with local elections looming and my name on the ballot.

It works, my mental diversion gains me enough ground that I hold the flood back while Amy succumbs to her orgasm.

The girl gasps and grunts, a hand down between her legs as she rubs at herself. She jams her body down onto me, grinding her cunt against my pubic bone, my whole length inside her.

"I'm coming," she mumbles, the words all clotted. And then she's kissing me, her mewls and gasps going into my open mouth while our tongues slide and slither.

It goes on for some time, with Amy letting both her mother and me know exactly how she's feeling. Then, with a low moan she slides off me, slumping onto the seat next to me on the sofa.

"Oh, God," Amy gasps, her chest heaving as she sucks in air. "Oh, God ... I don't believe I did that."

But even if her mind has cleared a little, with Amy's climax thinning the fog of desire so logical and coherent thought becomes a possibility once more, well, it seems her mother is still lost in the mist.

"Anthony," Astrid mewls at me.

I take my eyes off Amy when the woman says my name. I see her staring at me, the hand between her thighs circling relentlessly.

"I'm so horny," she mutters, eyes like coals glowing in twin braziers, her nose wrinkled while the words come from behind gritted teeth.

There's no way I'm going to deny Astrid. One look at her face tugs at my vitals. If I don't fuck her now I'm going to explode.

And the irony is if I do fuck her now I'm still going to explode.

"On here," I mutter, rising to my feet. I point to the sofa. "Sit down. Spread your legs." Then I grab my cock and threaten her with its mass. "I'll fuck you, Astrid. If that's what you want ... I'll fuck you right now."

Astrid glances at her daughter and looks doubtful. Then she sees me holding my dick and I watch her face as the uncertainty fades.

The certain knowledge that I'm going to have both mother and daughter in one sitting makes me bold. My confidence soars. They're both culpable, both of them equally guilty, if either one has second thoughts later on -- or if they both decide it has all been a terrible mistake -- I know I'm safe.

After all, if either one blabs, they stand to lose, too.

I tease Astrid with my cock by rubbing the keel of the thing through her labia. The stiffness of that shaft splits her loose, floppy folds and slides over her clit. Astrid gasps, her throat working as she swallows heavily, looking up at me.

I've got her on the sofa so she's all scrunched up with her shoulders against the upright, legs akimbo, her thighs wide, scarlet cunt gaping and very vulnerable as I hook the backs of her knees around my arms.

Holding Astrid open, I look down at her. Her face is all creased with expectation and anxiety, with her mouth hanging open, her eyes fixed on my face.

"Are you going to put it in?" she whimpers, helpless, her pelvis tilted.

Beside us, Amy squirms around until she's kneeling, one hand on the sofa back, the other on my shoulder.

I turn my head to look at her.

"You're going to fuck her, aren't you, Andrew?" Amy mutters.

I see the fervour in her face, and Amy's enthusiasm for watching her own mother taking my dick sends a surge of desire through me. There's fire in my veins, steel in my cock and lust in my words as I nod and say, "Oh, yes, Amy. I'm going to rip your mum's cunt apart."

Amy swallows and stares at me for a beat or two before she leans in and kisses my mouth.

"You're a real bastard, Anthony," she hisses at me when she pulls back.

I shrug and smirk at her.

Winking, I reply with, "And all the girls love a bastard, Amy. Just like you," I add. Then I pause and slide my dick through her mother's vulva again. "And her," I say, with Astrid groaning when I angle my cock-head at her opening. "Your mother loves a bastard, too."

And that bitch is so wet I don't have to use my hands to guide myself into her. My hips do the work, my cock-head waggling until I'm lined up. A push forward and Astrid's body accepts me. Once the big bulb is positioned just right I can ease into her, going slowly so she can appreciate the long glide.

"Oh, fuck..." mumbles Astrid. "Oh, dear God." She's looking at her daughter with a helpless kind of expression on her face. Astrid's eyes are wide, her mouth a big O. "We shouldn't be doing this," she says. "You can't watch, Amy."

Amy's head goes side-to-side as she looks from her mother's face to where my length is slowly disappearing. "Shut up, mum," the girl mutters. "Me watching will only make it better. It's so hot..." Amy shakes her head again. "You saw him doing it to me. Now I want to watch you taking it."

Astrid moans and stares back at Amy. "This is so wrong," she mewls. "But you're right, it's so sexy, I've never felt so dirty and depraved in my life."

And then Astrid turns her glazed-eyed face to me. "Fuck me, Anthony," she whines. "If I'm going to do this with her watching ... make it good."

*Astrid*

Why did I do it? What motivated me to behave in such a way?

I have no idea other than I was caught up in the madness. Yes, I could have turned and walked away when I realised it was Amy with Anthony. I could have left and tried to figure it all out on my own.

What I would have done or said afterwards, I don't know, but I didn't have to stay.

If I'd been in a normal frame of mind I wouldn't have stayed, but something held me there.

All in all, my behaviour and actions leading up to the moment I stepped into Anthony's office were, of course, questionable. And again, I can't explain myself. If I try to think about the whys and wherefores I just go round and round and round.

How did I feel when Amy mumbled on about sharing Anthony's cock? What emotions decided my actions when she gasped out that her father would never know?

Well, honestly, I was thrilled, ebullient. My overriding concern at that moment was my own pleasure; I craved relief from the damnable sexual frustration, like a boulder inside me. I yearned for release. I wanted Anthony inside me, that huge cock stuffing me to the brim. I needed to come, was desperate for a climax.

But it was also so much more. One orgasm wouldn't do it. Coming would only be temporary respite. The deep, hollow yearning would return.

It was insanity, a craziness of sorts, if I'd been thinking clearly, if my mind hadn't been warped by my own perverted desires, of course, I would never have countenanced such an act.

What, allowing my own daughter to witness such a scene? Not a chance. No. Never.

But, as shocking as it was to hear Amy say it, I was so glad when those words came out of her.

I heard the suggestion come from my daughter and I looked at the pair of them again, my eyes going to where they were joined. I wanted that. I wanted my body packed with that hard penis. I'd never harboured any sexual desire so much as to feel my body tight around the girth of that thing, male gristle filling me.

I watched my daughter rutting, and in some wild, feral way it was beautiful. I decided I would do it. The decision wasn't thought through, the consequences weren't weighed; it came from between my legs, a deep, dark place inside me. It was my own desire goading me, and, at the time, it didn't matter that the other woman was my daughter; all I could concentrate on was getting my turn.

Then I watched her come, envy curdling my guts while Amy gasped and moaned and kissed Anthony, his concentration fixed on her completely.

Then, when Amy slid off him, Anthony looked at me.

He stood up and ordered me to sit.

Next, he teased me with his dick, sliding it between my flaps and letting the rigid underside of it glide over my clit.

I was mad for him. I just HAD to get it inside me.

And the way he put it in, the manner of that cock's introduction to my pussy was artfully done. He didn't use his hands, just manoeuvred himself, using his pelvis to guide the long probe to me. I was all doubled up, with my knees up by my ears. I was helpless, just lying there like a sacrifice as the head of Anthony's cock nudged my opening.

I looked up at him and whimpered something about him putting it in. He was watching me, taunting me until at last he eased a few inches into my body.

I gasped and clawed at his chest, trying to push him away while simultaneously lifting my buttocks off the sofa to take more of him inside.

After that, after I stared at the long thing easing into me, we went at it. Anthony pummelled me, fucking into me like I haven't enjoyed in years. There was no style or finesse, only lust, pure and simple. I forgot about Amy, she and my husband were gone from my mind. It was all about my pussy and Anthony's root.

How long did he hammer at me? I have no idea. I can recall urging him on with a sewer-mouthed torrent of obscenities. I begged my lover to fuck me. I squealed at him to let it all go and flood me with his seed.

Which he did -- Oh, God, didn't he just fill me with semen!

I was coming, moaning and thrashing, teeth snapping, and if I could have gotten at him, I'm certain I would have torn his flesh away.

Anthony grunted and moaned, his face twisted into an agonised mask. He muttered something about how it felt to be inside me. He told me I was beautiful, spitting the words out with a crazed, wild-eyed look on his face.

Then he plunged deep. Anthony went in once, probing at me before he pulled out, with almost the whole length sliding out of me.

He paused, swallowed heavily, and then went in even deeper than previously.

That happened three or four more times, and the final time he stayed there, his cock pulsing as Anthony's seed bathed my insides.

Epilogue

When, at last, it's over, when Anthony has finished pumping Astrid full of jizm, Amy stands.

She blinks at her mother, who's all sprawled out, loose-limbed and gasping. Anthony is panting, too, with both of them sucking in great gulps of air, their expressions stunned, like survivors in a bus crash.

"I'll see you at home," says Amy, her face expressionless, her tone wooden.

Avoiding looking at her mother, and keeping her eyes away from Anthony, his long cock slackening and oozing gloop, Amy plucks her clothing from the floor. She grabs her boots and staggers from the room.

She dresses in the vestibule, pulling on her cargo pants before she realises her underwear is still in the pile. Amy is fastening her bra, knickers stuffed into one pocket of her trousers when her mother appears in the doorway.

"Wuh-what are you going to do, Amy?" stammers Astrid, a hand between her legs in an unconscious gesture against staining the carpet.

Amy pauses and throws her mother a look. She shrugs and smirks, saying, "Sharing that thing with you, mum. What else? I can hardly say anything to daddy now, can I?"

Astrid stares at her daughter for several seconds. Emotions claw at her, all scrabbling for her attention.

"Baby," Astrid blurts while love for Amy and concern for their future swell in her chest. "Cuh-can we talk? Later? I ... We..." Her eyes slide away from Amy's face. Suddenly she's ashamed of what she's done. Abruptly aware of her nudity, Astrid covers her breasts and pubis with her hands.

Amy shrugs. "Talk about what, mum? About how the apple doesn't fall far from the tree?"

By then Amy's dressed. Her boots are laced and she's ready to go. She looks at her mother and shakes her head.

Then she's gone.

Astrid turns and sees Anthony watching her. He's stroking himself, his cock resurrected.

"More?" the man asks.

Astrid swallows, gulping down her sudden loathing for the man she'd been so desperate for not so long ago.

"You're a pig," says Astrid, abhorrence for Anthony mixing with a slurry stink of contempt for her own self.

Anthony laughs. "That's what your daughter said," he says. His fist moves up and down his length. "But she seemed to enjoy herself, eh?"

"I despise you," hisses Astrid.

Anthony rolls his eyes. "Yeah," he sneers, "but you want me to fuck you again, don't you, you hot-arsed bitch?"

Astrid moans and, wondering where it will end, slowly walks to the sofa.

"Yes," she breathes, a hand reaching for that tumescence. "I want it again."