The Adventures of a Slut Mommie Ch. 06

The Adventures of a Slut Mommie.

Chapter 6. Kath's Birthday Party.

Katie Muggleton at your service, everybody. Welcome to my further adventures. If you remember, we parted immediately after I'd fallen asleep after making love with my two kids simultaneously. But how did I get to that point? Well, after my third and final appointment with the hypnotherapist Edgar Fontaine, I discovered that although I'd been sexually submissive all my adult life, I was more of a switch than solely submissive.

Deciding I wanted to explore my dominant side further, I took my daughter, Kristy, to a sex store. After some adventures there, I bought some items to help with my exploration. After testing one of the toys I'd bought on my daughter, I'd gone down on her. As I tongued her pussy, her imminent orgasm made her clamp her thighs tightly around my ears, and I didn't hear my son, Johnny, enter the room.

Taking advantage of my vulnerable position, my son ploughed his long, beautifully thick cock into my soppingly wet pussy. Of course, doing either of these things individually with my son and daughter was fine, but to let them both have me simultaneously? Well, I guess I'm deserving of the title I proudly wear --Slut Mommie!

Shall we see what happened next?

I wasn't aware of what happened after falling asleep, but I woke in the morning, lying on my side, with my son's deliciously erect cock sliding back into my cum messy pussy. Stretching, I reached back and cupped my son's head as I turned my head for a kiss. But before I could kiss him, my daughter pressed her luscious body against me and locked her lips to mine.

"Morning, our delicious little Mommie slut," my children chorused as they stroked my body and fanned my arousal.

Figuring the cat was out of the bag, I kissed Kristy fervently and then turned my head to kiss Johnny. As I kissed him, Johnny's big hand curled across my curved tummy, over my waxed bare mound and onto my love button. Simultaneously, my daughter slid lower and cupped my left breast before softly running her tongue over my turgid nipple.

Enjoying the twin sensations immensely, I lifted my bent left knee to expose my soaking pussy to Johnny's deft ministrations. My daughter took my spread legs as an invitation and slowly kissed down my stomach until her lips touched where Johnny's hand stroked.

Taking the hint, my son moved his hand to my breast, and Kristy's lips slid onto my big clit. With my head turned to kiss my son as a mother should never kiss her son, I felt my daughter's gifted tongue on an area a daughter should never touch on her mother, let alone kiss and tongue. The decadence and debauchery of these immoral acts excited me, and I swiftly climbed to my sexual crest, ready to fling myself off orgasm's peak.

Then my son moaned, "Kristy's licking my balls, Mom. My cock is buried deep in your slutty Mommie cunt, and your equally slutty daughter is licking my shaft and balls as I fuck you. What do you think about that, Mom? Do you think I should fuck her next?"

"No!" I denied, but that depraved image blasted me off my climax's launch pad, and I squealed into my son's mouth as my pussy gushed fluids over his big balls and onto my daughter's lips.

Barely holding onto consciousness, I despairingly watched my son roll his sister over and slide between her obscenely spread but shapely thighs. However, when Johnny moved to cover her body with his, Kristy yelled, "No! If you go down on me, I'll suck you off, but I'm not giving you my virginity! That privilege belongs to another!"

Fortunately, as the gentleman he is, my son accepted his sister's refusal and moved lower to service her orally. Settling over her pussy, he looked up, smiled, and said, "Sorry, Kristy. I didn't know you were still a virgin. I would never have tried to make love to you if I did. I only wish I could be the lucky guy you give it up to!" Then he lowered his mouth onto her succulent... cunt, I told myself firmly.

'Katie Ashley Muggleton,' I chided myself. 'Your morality is ridiculous! You'll happily have incestuous sex with your children simultaneously but won't use a swear word to describe their genitals? You are messed up, girl!'

Messed up or not, I masturbated as I watched my son bring my daughter off with his hands and tongue, always being careful not to break her hymen accidentally. Then I lay beside her as we shared her brother's cock back and forth until we knelt submissively on the floor beside my bed so he could cum over our faces.

Finally, Kristy and I 69'd with me on top so my son could fuck my willing cunt as his sister and mother tongued each other's pussy.

We shared a last orgasm when Johnny's seed splashing onto my cervix precipitated my orgasm, causing me to scream in ecstasy. My scream blasted hot air over Kristy's clit, and her scream would have been as loud as mine, except it was muffled by her lips on my cunt.

It was a tight squeeze, but we managed to shower together. Kristy said her clit was too sensitive to stand any more attention, so Johnny and I brought each other to soft climaxes, and then he headed into his club to work with the coaches to improve his ruck skills. Kristy left to join her study group, leaving me home alone.

I hadn't vacuumed or mopped this week yet, so I had a productive day, ensuring my home was spotless from top to tail. Of course, cleaning doesn't require much thought, so I could contemplate the last few day's events. The revelation that Edgar had taken it upon himself to free me from my solely submissive nature despite only being requested to help me stop smoking had me confused and wondering if that was his true intention.

Then I needed to work out why I'd stopped orgasming instantly when someone called me a slut. But before that, I needed to understand why Edgar's implanted order to orgasmically respond when someone used that name worked to start with. After all, he had categorically proven that he could not make me do anything unless I was willing to do it.

'Did I want to be a slut?' I wondered. 'Was that implanted suggestion merely my excuse to do what I'd always wanted to do and fuck anyone I felt like fucking?'

More despairingly, I wondered why most of my extramarital lovers were women. If I wanted nothing more than to be a slut, then why was I picking only women to take between my shapely thighs? Was I rationalising that my husband wouldn't freak out if he discovered me bedding women, but would he would if it were a man? Or was it because, as my children feared, I was turning into a 'big old dyke'?

'In thought, I tittered, 'There is no way I'm ever wearing 'comfortable shoes' when I go out! So maybe not!'

I didn't come to any final conclusions but realised I had secretly resented my husband's continual absences. Resented the many nights I'd slept alone, sexually frustrated, with only my trusty right hand for relief. Despised that I had to endure his continual fucking around. Despised having to know he fucked his secretary non-stop on every trip and that she spent more nights sleeping in his arms than I did.

"I bet she's trying to get pregnant by him,' I mused. Then giggled when I realised she'd been unsuccessful, which had to have irritated her endlessly.

Sean would be back on Wednesday, and despite my musing and resentments, I missed and loved him. Despite his behaviour and regular aloofness when he was home, he was still the man I wanted to spend my life with. It was just that I wanted to see more of him. I wanted him home to fuck me and take me to task when I erred. I needed his firm hand on my shapely ass when correction was required because it let me know he cared for me enough to take the time to do it.

The one conclusion I reached was that my behaviour was spiralling out of control because his firm hand wasn't on my rudder to direct and correct my course. My earlier musing that if my husband remained mostly absent due to his work commitments, I needed a Master or Mistress to control my behaviour seemed even more accurate than I thought.

But, of course, what did all of that mean to my burgeoning ability to own and dominate others? If I wanted to submit, how could I dominate? Why did I want a firm hand to guide my life if I needed to be dominant? The answer lay in the paradox of a true switch, and the bottom line was that I needed both.

I examined the lovers in my life, starting with my gravest error, Frank Pritchard. When Frank found me urinating, if I'd had the skills I developed from Edgar's teachings, I have no doubt I would have avoided his trap. However, that would have meant I wouldn't have had my experiences at La Châteaux du Plaisir Tortueux. Experiences that, despite my fear of being recognised, I enjoyed immensely.

The others, however, Siobhan, Caoimhe, and Juana, the guy I blew in the adult store, were all revenge fucks because my husband continually abandoned me to travel with and fuck his secretary, Amanda. Liz was part of learning how to switch to dominance --leaving only making love with my children to explain.

The trite explanation was that I was perpetuating the incest cycle that I endured with my family of origin. But I knew that was crap. I didn't endure anything at home with my parents because my sisters and I weren't abused. Yes, we had to be naked inside our house at all times unless we had people over. But with four out of five people in my home naked, and given that my father was absent for extended periods, it was four out of four, nudity was the norm, and we were, in reality, no different to a nudist family.

Corrections, as I've explained, were a cane to our breasts and/or ass, but these only proved that my parents loved and cared for us enough to ensure that our behaviour didn't spiral into teenage rebellion and defiance. Neither my father nor mother corrected us angrily--something I'd seen with my friend's parents all too often. No, instead of an anger-inflamed belting, Mom calmly explained to Dad what we'd done. He would calmly question us to see if our version differed from our mother's or if there were extenuating circumstances for our errant behaviour, then correct us if required.

What I'm trying to explain is that I have nothing but respect and admiration for my parents and do not, in any way, manner, or form, feel that I was abused. As the French would say, "Au contraire, Mon Cherie".

The only bitterness I have is from their forgetting my birthday three years in a row, culminating in the third year with me losing my virginity to my now husband. But even that turned to roses because we have remained successfully and lovingly married for slightly more than twenty years and have raised two fantastic children to early adulthood.

Cleaning done, I showered and changed, then began preparing dinner. Johnny phoned as I took the chicken breasts out of the fridge and announced he, Gina, Phil and Caoimhe were heading to ours for dinner. I added extra breasts and began preparing a diced chicken breast, chorizo sausage and prawn risotto. I didn't have enough breasts defrosted for so many, so I needed to add extra rice and sausage to cater for the additional people. Of course, chicken risotto wasn't what I'd planned to make for dinner, but it was a meal I could quickly expand to feed another three people.

I looked at my clothes and thought about my best friend's son. I was attracted to the young man, that was for sure, but did I want him to bed me? The short answer was yes. My first experience with a man other than my husband was with the tiny dicked Frank Pritchard, and although I'd orgasmed, the experience left me feeling dirty and demeaned. I hadn't completely decided yet, but I was leaning towards letting Phil seduce me and hopefully giving me some delicious memories to counter the gravid images of what I'd done with Frank.

Which reminded me that Frank still had many salacious pics of me, my pussy and my ass. Some of which showed his cum leaking from my freshly fucked pussy. Johnny assured me that he had a plan to get those photos deleted permanently. He'd also promised to anonymously tip off the authorities that Frank was a predatory homosexual paedophile.

Deciding I wanted to change into something Phil and Johnny would find sexy, I put the rice into the cooker and returned to my room. Looking through my collection, I chose my pink mesh lace, panel bow front, and backless halter dress. This dress had built-in cups that would hold my breasts high and firm before me, displaying them gorgeously to anyone looking.

It was so short that even I dared not go pantyless wearing it. It's one thing to tease a possible pussy flash, another to actually do it. I wanted sexy, not slutty. And there was that word again, yet no orgasmic response. Yes, my pussy warmed and moistened when I revelled in that term as I was doing now, but I no longer needed to get off immediately.

I chose a sheer black barely wider than a thong panty that would show through the dress' mesh to ensure Phil and Johnny would be intensely aware that I wore little more than a micro-mini dress. Plus, I rouged my nipples so they'd show through the dress' cups. I decided against heels because I thought wearing those implied I was dressing to go out instead of for a night in. Thinking about how I wanted to look, I decided to wear my white sneakers sockless. Satisfied with how I looked, I quickly touched up my lippy and went to finish making dinner.

When I got to the kitchen, I saw that Kristy had returned from her study group and was frying the steamed rice, chicken, sausage and prawns. Walking quietly up behind her, I casually groped her curvy ass before sliding my hand onto her perineum and tickling. She turned her head, and we exchanged a lover's kiss before she leant her head back on my shoulder, sighed and said, "You can only keep doing that for as long as you want, Mom."

Kristy turned back to the rice and stirred the mixture before pointing at the fridge and saying, "Why don't you get us a glass of wine, sit down and relax, Mom? I'll finish dinner. I assume we've got guests coming by the amount of chicken, prawns and sausage you laid out?"

Nodding, I took out the already opened Pike & Joyce Beurre Bosc Pinot Gris bottle and poured two glasses. Handing one to my daughter, I took a sip and replied, "Yes. Your brother is bringing Gina, Phil and Caoimhe home for dinner."

Kristy squeaked and handed me the wooden stirrer. "I need to change and freshen up, Mom," she breathlessly told me. "Do you mind finishing dinner?"

Giggling, I watched my daughter race upstairs. She clearly had the same thing for my best friend's son as I did, and I briefly wondered if she'd be prepared to give Phil, instead of her father, her virginity. Then an even more wicked thought entered my mind --would she share Phil with me? Could we trip him into bed together? Feeling that familiar tingle morphing slowly into wet heat, I allowed myself to fantasise it would happen.

Kristy's return killed my fantasy. I looked her over and giggled, "Been raiding Mommy's closet again, baby girl?" My daughter had dressed in one of my two-piece skirt and top sets --an off-the-shoulder solid red top that clung to her luscious, braless C-cups like a second skin and a floral split skirt with a side split to barely below her pussy. She, too, wore white sneakers.

Blushing, Kristy replied, "I need to go shopping for some sexier outfits, Mom. Because of my overly developed assets, I tended to dress down before my eighteenth birthday so boys would leave me alone. But now I'm eighteen, I'd like to tease with what I wear like you do."

"You're certainly gorgeous and sexy enough to wear outfits like you have on, honey," I told her. "Your father and I have always encouraged you to have a positive self-body image and be proud of your appearance without being arrogant about it. I understand your reasons for dressing down because I dressed similarly before I turned eighteen. However, if, as I do, you are going to parade your sensuality overtly, you must always be vigilant of your surroundings. Too many men equate women dressing revealingly with them being sluts, and they may try to take advantage of you."

"That's ridiculous, Mom!" Kristy exclaimed. "I should be able to wear what I want, where I want, without risking being raped! After all, those pigs wouldn't rob a bank just because someone left the safe open!"

Kristy had just espoused what I considered to be a specious argument that feminists constantly trotted out. Along with --Teach your son's not to be rapists. Don't tell my daughter what to wear. The bank analogy isn't apt and doesn't correlate to the act of rape. A better analogy would be to say that I should be able to take a thousand dollars out of my bank account in $50 notes and walk around the Queen Street Mall, handing them out to anyone I thought needed or deserved it. Of course, if I did that, before too long, someone would knock me over the head and take the whole bundle.

There have been rapists since the dawn of humanity, and a wise woman keeps herself from harm by avoiding being alone in places and situations where a man's greater strength can be used to assail her. That is the reality we live in. We're not in some feminist-inspired utopian alter-earth where men are totally subjugated and there is no danger of rape or assault.

However, as much as I wanted to shake my daughter and rub her nose in today's reality, I knew it would only lead to an argument, so I smiled and responded, "Even so, Kristy, try not to put yourself in risky situations, okay?"

"Okay, Mom," she sighed. "I'll go and set the table and put out the wine glasses."

I watched her sexy ass sway as she walked off. I couldn't help it and nearly burned the risotto as a result. Giggling at myself for my lustful thoughts, I scraped the risotto into a serving dish and added parmesan cheese to my taste. I'd put extra on the table for anyone who wanted more.

Johnny and the rest arrived as I placed the bowl on the table, and we immediately sat to eat. Johnny and Phil drank beer and conversed about their photography business. Phil had set up the website with some of my and Kristy's 'glam pics'. He said that although they hadn't received any bookings yet, interest was running high, with several thousand hits on their Facebook, Twitter and Instagram pages already.

Then Phil nudged Johnny and grinned at my daughter and me. "We did get one genuine enquiry, though, Katie and Kristy," he teased. 'You did?' Kristy asked. "Yes," Phil confirmed. "Garion Hall's Abby Winters studio called to ask if you two were interested in doing a film together."

I had figured out that Abby Winters was probably a porn site, but apparently, Kristy hadn't, so she said, "Oh, wow! Mom? Wouldn't that be something!"

Trying to hide my grin, I said, "Maybe you should get the number off Phil and call them tomorrow?"

Phil continued the tease, "I'll write it down for you, Kristy."

"Yes, thanks, Phil," my daughter excitedly said. "I'll call them first thing tomorrow morning."

Keeping his voice neutral, Johnny said, "Yeah, sis, I think you should. I'm sure you and Mom will be huge stars if you make the film."

"Oh? Johnny, do you really think so?" Kristy said breathlessly.

"He does," Phil deadpanned. "As do I. Real biological mother/daughter lesbian porn is one of the most popular genres there is!"

Of course, everybody except my daughter burst out laughing. Initially, I thought Kristy would lose it, but she finally saw the funny side of Phil and her brother's teasing and joined in the laughter.

The rest of the meal passed without incident. Conversation was lively, as it typically is when good friends break bread together. Topics ranged from the AFL to how Kristy was doing at Uni to current fashion trends and even politics. We all agreed that although our current Prime Minister, Anthony Albanese, deserved his moniker of Albasleazy, overall, he and his treasurer, Jim Chalmers, were doing a good job at resurrecting the economy from the Covid spendthrift ways of the dying Morrison/Frydenberg coalition government.