The Adventures of a Slut Mommie Ch. 04

Because a cold Westerly was blowing, I got out my ankle-length black leather jacket. I didn't have another, but I did have a similar knitted one. As I waited, I pulled on a pair of leggings to ensure I kept warm and retouched my hair and makeup.

Gina waltzed out of the en suite, looking young and freshly scrubbed a little later. Seeing the clothes I'd laid out for her, she smiled and nodded approvingly, then unashamedly dropped her towel and put them on. Luckily, Gina and I shared a shoe size, so my boots fit perfectly.

I regretfully watched as Gina covered her gorgeous body with clothes. However, I managed to keep my raging libido somewhat in check and left her unmolested until she was ready to go, then held her hand as we walked to my car. We conversed freely as I drove us to the field. It was a little strange because it was as if we were long-lost friends catching up after a long separation. Our conversation flowed smoothly from subject to subject without any of the typically strained silences there were as people got to know each other.

The only issue, at least for me, was that Gina casually placed her hand on my thigh, then slowly worked it between my dress' buttons. By the time we approached the football field, her hand was daringly close to my clitoris, and I was afraid my excitement had wet through my olive green dress.

After we exited the car, Gina entwined her arm with mine and, laughing gaily, walked with me to the small stand. Johnny had provided us with free passes, and we showed those to the attendant, then took our seats.

This game was against the Redlands Sharks at their home ground in Cleveland. The stand sat maybe fifty people, and I'd guess perhaps twice that number were at the game. Dressed as we were, Gina and I stood out like sore thumbs amongst the jean and fleecy-wearing crowd. I was used to dressing to impress and didn't feel overdressed at all. However, Gina muttered, "Should have gone for jeans, a polo and a jacket. Too late now, I guess."

"And look like them?" I disparagingly replied, gesturing toward a pair of slappers (so called because after their date has done screwing them, he slaps them on the ass and sends them home) wearing what she had suggested. "Besides, I don't own a pair of trousers, let alone jeans. The closest I have to a pair of shorts is my Zima Skorts."

"You're kidding, right?" Gina said, wonderingly. No, I answered. "Why on earth not?" Sean doesn't like them. He likes to be able to touch my pussy whenever he feels like it. "Gina shook her head and asked, "Does he touch your pussy a lot?" Oh, my Lawd, yes! I grinned. Sometimes I think he likes playing with my pussy more than he likes holding his cock. "And you always do what your husband wants?" Gina questioned. Of course, I replied. Look, Gina, I know that it's not the done thing anymore, and feminists hate me, but my sole purpose is to be an ornament to my husband and to raise his children to be good, hard-working people.

"What about you, and what you want?" Gina asked as Johnny and his team ran onto the field. Mystified, I looked at her, This is what I want to do, honey. I like my life. I like who and what I am and am fulfilled in my life. You know that Johnny will expect the same from you, right?

"Yeah, he might expect it, but he ain't getting it!" Gina muttered.

However, I suspected there was more than a little bit of submissiveness in Gina's personality. She enjoyed playing the Mistress with the likes of me, a willingly submissive woman who kowtowed to her every whim. But she showed none of that towards my son. Instead, in his presence, as I am with Sean, she tried to please him in every manner she could.

Our conversation died as the game began. Of course, we concentrated on Johnny but not to the exclusion of everyone else. The Lions played well enough to win, but not by very much. Johnny proved ineffectual in the ruck, so the coach swung him forward after halftime. Even with Johnny playing Full-Forward, his team struggled to kick goals.

Gina and I patiently waited for Johnny to shower and come out from the dressing rooms so we could congratulate him on his and the team's performance. My son was among the last to exit, so Gina and I received many appreciative looks from his teammates as they walked past us. Of course, I preened under their gaze, loving every second of it.

We noticed, however, that the other wives and girlfriends formed a separate group away from where we stood. These women shot us dark looks and were blatantly discussing us. Their behaviour was a common occurrence around me, not that I let it bother me.

After all, it's not my fault that even though I'm often twice their age, I am prettier, have a better body, and dress better than them. I work darn hard to look as good as I do, bringing Patrick, my personal trainer, in three times a week to ensure I am fit and toned. Plus, I have curves, and unlike some women out there, I'm proud of them because they give me a lush, sensual appearance. Sure, guys will tell you they lust over Gal Gadot, but I and they know that a Titanic Movie-sized Katie Winslet is the woman they'd prefer to bed. Patrick ensures that I am toned with shape. Not thin and/or muscly.

Gina left with my son, of course. They were going to a teammate's twenty-first birthday party. Kristy had texted earlier, saying she and some friends were heading out on the town after work, and she didn't know if she would come home tonight. That left me alone again. Sean hadn't called or messaged since he left for England, but neither was that unusual.

I left the grounds to head home to an empty house, but on an impulse, halfway there, I redirected my car to Kath Loughlin's place. Luckily, she and her husband, Mike, were home and immediately requested I stay for dinner. Too many bottles of wine later, yes, bottles, not glasses, I was way too plastered to drive. Kath showed me to the guestroom, and still buzzing from the wine, I stripped, climbed into bed, and fell asleep.

Sometime later, I woke up needing to pee and found someone had crawled into the bed and lain between my spread thighs with her head resting between my luscious breasts. Opening my phone, I used its backlight to see who it was. Caoimhe smiled at me and said, "Hello, beautiful Katie. Mom said you were in here when I got home from work, so I slipped into the room. Then I saw you were naked and couldn't resist cuddling you.

I, well, I ... shivers ... I knew I should have immediately leapt out of bed and demanded that she put her clothes on and left. But Caoimhe is so tiny that even as she softly ground her pussy against mine, her head barely reached my chin, and I couldn't resist raising my pussy to meet hers. My urgent bladder added a piquant pain to my sudden arousal, and I moaned as Caoimhe rested on her elbows and pushed my lush breasts together so she could kiss their inner mounds.

Unable to resist the tiny nymph suckling at my breasts, I lifted my leg over hers and ground my slickly wet pussy against her upper thigh. Taking the hint, Caoimhe shifted onto her knees, wrapped her arms around my shins and tribbed her blazingly hot, soaking wet pussy against mine. Her every grind reminded me of my need to urinate but swiftly drove me toward my orgasmic peak.

Looking down at me as she smiled, Caoimhe saw that I was close, and her hips blurred as she scissored with me. Then, realising I couldn't quite reach my peak, she smiled again and whispered, "I know your trigger, my darling Katie, so cum for me, you slut!"

Grabbing a pillow, I howled into it as an orgasm blasted over my writhing body. Caoimhe climaxed with me, then she pinched my nipples and said, "I've wanted to make love with you forever, my darling Katie. But Dad had better not find me naked in here with you, so I have to leave." Caoimhe lifted her eyes to peer intently into mine and added, "Mom loves you more than you know, Katie. She aches for you to take her and introduce her to lesbian love. The next time you're alone with her, take her, and make her your lesbian slave."

I had no idea how to respond to that, so I muttered something about needing to pee, put on my rarely worn panties, covered my generous breasts with my arm, and darted to the bathroom. When I returned, my bed was empty, so I snugged the covers tightly around me and went back to sleep.

I awakened to the smell of Kath holding a strong cup of coffee under my nose. The bedding fell off me as I sat up, exposing my Double-Ds to my friend. Then, as I reached for the cup, I saw Kath gulping as she stared at my suddenly displayed breasts and thought, 'Maybe Caoimhe is right. Kath has a crush on me. "Thanks, babe," I said as I sipped the coffee.

Despite how much I'd drunk the previous night, I felt good. My stomach wasn't roiling and wanting to throw up, nor did I have a headache. "How are you feeling, babe?" I asked. Then added, "I'm surprisingly good. After everything we drank last night, I expected to be at least a little hungover this morning, but I feel fine. What about you?

"Good enough to beat you up and make your sexy self coffee," Kath grinned.

She hid it well, but my gorgeous friend fidgeted nervously, and I realised that Caoimhe was right. Kath wanted, probably needed, to explore her sexuality with me. To please my husband, I'd had the occasional threesome with him and another woman, but before visiting Edgar's clinic, I hadn't considered myself bisexual. Now that Mister Fontaine had further released my inner slut, I admitted to myself that I'd always wanted my best friend.

However, I knew Kath would freak out and run if I pushed too hard. So I put my hand behind her head and gently pulled her closer. Softly kissing her wide, full and pouting lips, I said, "I love you, Kath. You were my first love well before we discovered boys and always will be."

Breathing heavily, Kath replied, "I love you, too, Katie. I always have, just not always as a friend, you know?"

"I know, honey," I replied, then kissed her again. "I think we should get together again soon and continue where we left off when we were teenagers, okay?"

Kath blushed, and for a moment, I worried that I'd pushed too hard. But then she smiled and replied, "I'm looking forwards to that day, Katie. Now, what would you like for breakfast?"

I wanted to say, "You," but knew all that would do was freak my gorgeous friend out, so I answered, "Do you have some fresh fruit and yoghurt? I'll have that if you do. Otherwise, I'll stick with coffee and make my breakfast when I get home."

Kath laughed, "When you spend all day in front of a camera, calories are not your friend! Therefore, I have plenty of diet alternatives, including acai and cranberries. Would you like me to mix you a bowl?"

Coffee and breakfast sorted, I hung out with Kath and her family until near lunchtime, hoping Phil would return. Unfortunately, Phil didn't turn up before I left for home. On the drive home, I wondered about my desire to see my best friend's son and flirt with him again. Did I have a wee crush on the muscly, handsome young man? It sure seemed that I did!

Arriving home to an empty house, I showered, did my hair and makeup and put on my solid blue shirt dress. This item had been my favourite as it buttoned down the front, allowing me to show as much or as little as I wanted. However, it had faded with use, so I now wore it to do my housework. It took me most of the day, but by dinnertime, when my children arrived home, I'd vacuumed the entire house, mopped all the bare floors, wiped all the flat surfaces, dusted, and changed the linen on every bed.

Stretching to ease my aching back, I looked around, satisfied with my day's work. My home was spotless but still felt warm and welcoming, just as I liked it. I'd planted snow pansies in the autumn, and they had recently flowered. So, while waiting for the floors to dry, I went out to my flower garden and cut several bunches. Placing these in vases around the living areas gave my home a fresh green smell with a hint of sweetness and spice.

Looking at the time, I chose to skip having another shower in favour of putting on dinner for the family. Tonight's dinner was honey-butter grilled chicken thighs with parsley sauce. I'd made the honey-butter glaze a couple of days ago and left it to marinate in the fridge. I'd bought the thighs on the way home and had put them in a sealed container on the bench. Then, every time I walked past it, I flipped the container up the other way, ensuring the glaze covered the thighs entirely and the thighs were well marinated when I was ready to cook.

I'd done plenty of thighs because Johnny's appetite is enormous. He'd eat at least four or five of these and still want more. To go with the chicken, I seasoned several jacket potatoes and had them baking in tinfoil in a container next to the pie. Once they were ready, I'd split them and add cheese, butter, sour cream and chives. I'd been lazy and bought a premixed bag of coleslaw when I bought the chicken thighs. I'd made an apple crumble pie for dessert and had it baking in the oven. Of course, that filled my house with another delicious scent.

After checking the pie, I turned from the stove with my eyes teary from the oven's heat and bumped into Kristy. I wiped my eyes and saw her sitting on the breakfast bar smiling at me. "How do you do it, Mom?" She asked with a grin. I replied, What? "Look so effortlessly beautiful. I mean, you're in a kitchen, slaving over a hot stove, as the saying goes, wearing an old dress and an apron, yet somehow you seem The Queen of all you survey. So achingly beautiful that passing men instantly fall at your feet and worship you."

Smiling at her compliment, I flicked my hair, looked up and away, and preened. "More than a few women fall at my feet and do the exact same thing, baby," I teased, mocking myself.

I crossed to where she sat and moved between her spread thighs. Then, wrapping my arms around her shapely waist, I pressed my breasts against her tummy and turned my face up for a kiss. Kristy obliged by holding my head in her hands, tilting her head forward, kissing my lips softly, and sighing.

It suddenly occurred to me that I'd just greeted my daughter as I would a lover. One that I was intimately close to. What was worse was that my daughter had responded in kind. Of course, the guilt crashed in, and my subconscious immediately began chastising me, so I broke the contact quickly and stepped away. Then gathering my scattered wits, I reminded myself I was her mother and asked, "How was work, Kristy? Anything interesting happen?"

I'd walked toward the sink to create some distance between us, so I looked back to see if she'd heard. Kristy looked at me pensively as if she wasn't sure why I'd broken away so suddenly, but her face brightened, and she said, "Nah, just the usual collection of tyre kickers, would-be thieves, and those trying to pack twenty kilos of lard into a ten-kilo sack."

Translated —Tyre kickers: Analogous to window shoppers at car sale yards: Women who tried on every dress their size in the shop but bought nothing. Would-be-thieves: Self-explanatory. Pack twenty kilos of lard into a ten-kilo sack: Cue sells up to a size 16 (12 in America). However, many women over this size still try to fit into their dresses.

"Mom," she continued, "you wouldn't believe how many women take three garments into the changeroom, stow one in their handbags, and then hand you back two, pretending they only took two into the room with them. Or how many, after dressing in the new outfit, put their old outfit on the hanger and give that to you as if you wouldn't notice it wasn't a label you stocked and that the garment is worn. Then there's those that take more than one item into the room, strip to their undies, put the item on, put their clothes on over the top, and try to walk out with it."

"That's terrible, Kristy," I absently muttered, my mind grappling with why I was suddenly treating my children as lovers instead of acting appropriately toward them. The obvious answer was that Mr Fontaine had planted these thoughts and desires into my mind. However, Edgar had shown me undeniably that he couldn't make me do anything I wasn't innately willing to do. Therefore, I harboured these sick desires and fantasies in my mind, and all Edgar had done was, ... ''Set them free' as he promised to do, my inner voice completed.'

I needed to think this through, which I couldn't do in the kitchen with Kristy near. So, I put my hand on my abdomen and winced. "You okay, Mom?" She asked concernedly.

"Just that time of month, babe," I answered, which she must have known because, as typically happened when two or more women lived in close proximity to each other, our menstrual cycles had synchronised. "I'm going to go lie down. Do you think you can cope from here? If your brother gets home soon, get him to cook the chicken on the outside grill because they'll taste better."

"I've got it, Mom," Kristy said. "I know what it's like when the cramps hit bad, so go relax, and I'll bring you a hot pack once dinner is done."

I have her a hug and peck on the cheek and walked upstairs to my room. Lying on my back on the bed, I thought about the revelation I'd just had and ... Flicker: image: my head falls back, and I scream through an orgasm. I remembered lying on Edgar's couch naked, my body ... Flicker: image: Liz grabs and squeezes my large, shapely breasts, tits, and ... feeling relaxed and calm. The perpetual need ... Flicker: image: thrusts forcefully into me demanding ... in my pussy satiated for now. ... Flicker: image: demands, "Cum again, Katie slut, one orgasm is never ... Edgar quietly says, "Cigarettes repulse you, Katie. The very thought of smoking makes you feel ill. Whenever you want to pick one up to light, you'll remember they repulse you and put it down."

Coming out of my daze, I thought, 'That's weird. Kind of a memory recall inside a memory recall, and no screaming orgasm at the end.' In my mind, I tittered and added, 'Not that I minded those! However, at least Edgar is trying to rid me of my smoking habit.'

I settled back and closed my eyes, hoping for more recalled revelations, but nothing happened. Sighing, I sat and propped myself up with pillows. I had some thinking to do and decisions to make. The first question I needed to answer was, had I secretly desired my children sexually for a long time? The answer, of course, was yes. My son is a strong, handsome dominant man —the type I choose before all others always.

And my daughter is a lusciously gorgeous younger version of me. Only, because she hadn't grown up in the environment I had, she's still sweetly innocent and unsullied by the wickedness and ills of this world.

Thinking deeply, I recalled an incident from my life with my parents: I'd worn a skirt my father considered too revealing outside our home, and he'd seen me as he drove past me on his way home. He was waiting for me inside the door holding his cane when I got home. I saw him as soon as I went inside and knew I was to be corrected, just not for what yet. With my eyes lowered, I swiftly stripped and took the first punishment position —standing tall, hands behind my head with my elbows back and feet spread shoulder width apart.

Looking at me sternly, Dad growled, "Katie Ashley Shephard, what is my position on you displaying your slut assets outside of my home?" I am not to do it, Sir. But I ... "Did I ask for an excuse, Miss Shephard?" No, Sir. "Then remain quiet until I ask for one." I knew better than to answer that. Dad had made a statement, not asked a question. So I silently waited for him to continue. "Did you see me pass you on your way home?" No, Sir. "I thought not, else you'd have pulled your skirt below your ass cheeks before you got home." Silence from me. "Do you have an excuse for showing your curvy bottom to the world, Miss Shephard?"