The New Girl Ch. 09

Freya nods. 'I do, for the record, have it easier. Way easier. If I don't want to work, I don't have to. I see your point, as well.' She kisses my forehead. 'But we got off-topic. If you want to be shared, Tom, then I...I think I need to be confident enough to allow it. But this is up to you, okay? I'll command you in all other things, but I can't command this. You'd be doing me a favour, keeping Dad and Mum and Morgan happy, but it's wholly optional.'

'Do you want this, Mistress?'

She stares at the wall, and shrugs. 'I don't know. But then, I've never had a boy to share like this. We could start easy, right? See if it works?'

My cock twitches at the thought. This can't be real.

'Freya...'

Mistress smooches my head. 'Sleep on it. In our bed.'

I put my hand between her thighs, feeling out the clear definition of that big burly dick. 'Shall we get tired out, first, Mistress?'

Freya's member thickens in response.

*

She slips out of the dress and throws it aside, revealing sweet nakedness beneath.

Mistress and I have had much better sex, since I actually began communicating my needs and wants to her. Funny, how that works. Sure, we still have plenty of rough animalistic screwing, but just as many encounters involving lots of eye contact and intimate moments.

Freya smiles at me as I undress. She climbs atop the bed and lays herself down in the middle, head resting atop the pillows. Her body, curves so weighty and divine, jiggle and shift as she relaxes against the covers. That beautiful bronze cock, already erect, stands to attention.

'Sit on me,' Mistress says. 'Be a good little slut, Tom.'

I kick off my boxers and smile brightly at her. 'Yes, Mistress.'

She slowly strokes herself as I fetch the lube and join her atop the sheets, applying the cool fluid to my arse both inside and out. A few fingers, testing the waters, easily slip inside and come out again without difficulty. Though, of course, a few of my fingers is hardly the equivalent to the mighty member of my Amazonian Mistress.

It's a little awkward, straddling her hips. Being somehow the centre of things, rather than some passive player. Freya releases her hold on her cock and lets it rest against my cheeks, putting a chill up my spine. The sheer heat of it, the way it throbs, is wondrous. Silky skin and a rigid, potent core. Such noticeable weight and heft, crudely wedged between my butt cheeks.

'So cute,' Mistress says. 'So sexy.'

She moves suddenly, taking hold of my throat in a possessive manner. Those blue eyes swallow me up just before her mouth hungrily takes control of my own, lips moving sweetly, tongue tasting my teeth. 'Mhm.'

I'm struck by the severity of my appreciation for this woman, and at the same time, the guilt presented by the possibility of being shared. Shared, if I want to be. And I do want to be. I...I shouldn't, but I do.

I want to fuck her mother. To suck off her sister. To ride her "father."

'Tom?' Freya draws back from the kiss, vaguely troubled. 'You're not doing anything?'

'Sorry, Mistress. I was thinking.'

She squeezes my hip with her other hand. 'About what?'

I blush. 'I...can't stop thinking about the sharing thing.'

Freya's cheeks quickly match my own, colour for colour. 'You want it, don't you?'

I suppose if anyone is going to see through me, it's going to be Freya. If anyone knows me as well as I know myself, or even better, it'll be my Mistress.

'It feels wrong,' I say, glancing away. 'To want...to want it.'

She reaches beneath me, between my legs, brushing my balls where they sag against her. 'Up. Get me inside you.' I obey, of course. For a moment the situation is all business, purely mechanical, but when the fat tip of her prodigious penis slides into my lubed-up backside, things become pleasantly organic. 'There's no guilt, Tom. Ugh. Not if I'm allowing you to do this. Not if you're still going to be mine, in every sense that matters.'

Mistress's big beefy bell-end barges its way into my depths with such casualness. A lump of spongy solidity, hot and lustrous, reverberating with risqué energies. It's distinctive, even after having felt it so many times. Distinctly Freya, hung like she is. A shape that's made my bottom into its own private pleasure palace, a rectal retreat for it to relieve itself within.

I belong to Freya's cock as much as I belong to Freya herself.

'Even if--guh--I'm attracted?'

'Especially if you're attracted,' Mistress says. She nuzzles my throat, kisses my collarbone, all the while guiding my efforts with that strong hand on my hip. 'If you weren't, why would you consent? It's--mhm--more of a test, if you actually want them.'

A test, of which the failure state would be ceasing to be Freya's. To be Morgan's, instead. Or Persephone's. Or choosing to spend time with Alicia instead of Freya.

None of which seems likely. All of which require an active limitation in place, to force my hand. And why would any of them do that to family, a daughter or a sister?

'Ughn.'

I grunt, groan, as I swing my hips. Up and down, the angle making the whole act so much more perverse. I can't simply sit and take it, much as Freya is gently pushing herself into me. To get what I want, what I need, requires active effort. To lift myself up and then lower myself, all in pursuit of sliding that fat fucking cock back and forth within the gripping tightness of my sphincter. I take hold of Freya's shoulders, strong and athletic, to keep myself steady.

'You won't fail the test. I know you well enough.'

'But--'

She lifts that hand from my throat to my jaw, cupping it. Mistress puts a silencing thumb across my lips. 'Tom, I know you. And I know my family. I'm giving you this--aah--chance to play with them, and you're guilty. That says it all.'

'Guh. It...d-oes?'

Freya smiles at me, cheeks red, eyes bright and blue. 'Of course. Even when you can have something, you still--mhm--care. You're mine, Tom. My slut. Doesn't it say so on that collar?'

The thing shifts, the faintest of sounds, every time I rise and fall. "Freya's Slut."

I nod, gritting my teeth. 'Y-es, Mistress. I'm your prop-erty.'

She brings me in for a slow yet tempestuous snog, eating my face with those sweet sensual lips. Full lips, beautiful crescent curves around pearly white teeth. Clean, honeyed spit. A tongue that teases, yes, but here attends to mine with passionate affection.

'You only have one Mistress. And we both know that what exists between us is--mhm--more than just the fact you like to get dicked-down.'

Freya applies greater force with her muscular thighs and hips, driving her fiery futa fuck-meat right up inside of me. I quiver and quake, doing my utmost to match her pace, to ride her in the slavish fashion that my position demands of me. That spectacular spear, beyond simple physicality, is Mistress's.

No other cock will ever be the same, because no other cock is hers.

Lust, and love are different beasts.

'Th-ank you, M-istress.'

I throw my arms around her shoulders and we topple backwards, bodies colliding in the most fantastical of fashions. Merging, not just our loins, but our hearts. Our minds. Mouths locked and moans endless as I gyrate my hips and Freya thrusts into me, her smells rich in my nostrils, her spit sweet on my tongue.

'Mhm. Mhm-hm.'

God, I love her. All day I've been wanting to be at her side, to be safe, to be with the one person who is undeniably in my corner. The one who has my back. And now I'm here, now we're together, and all is well with the world.

'Move yourself,' Mistress says, leaving my lips. She relaxes back against the bed. 'Milk me, slut. Ride my--ugh--fucking dick.'

I nod, stupid, frantic. 'Y-es, Mistress,' I say, sitting upright on her cock, pressing my palms against her thick hips to support myself. 'Ughn. So b-ig.'

Freya chuckles, watching me with lascivious glory. Staring up at me as I rise and fall, rise and fall, mounting her wholly under my own power while she simply rests and takes it. Becomes passive, yet retains control. Goes so far as to nonchalantly put her arms behind her head, revealing the contours of those beautifully muscled shoulders, and the shaven stubble of her bronze pits beneath.

'That's it, slut. Mhm. God, it's hot watching you--aah--work for it.'

It's awkward, is what it is. Erotic as anything, but awkward. I'm so exposed, doing this.

Riding such a fat fucking thing, thick and throbbing, so familiar and yet no less intimidating for all the intimate experiences I've had with Mistress and her body. A rod from God, it feels like, a thing some hung futanari angel would have. All the better that the angel is real, and her name is Freya Venyabildt.

'Ughn. J-esus.'

I have to war for focus, to maintain control. Losing myself to the pleasure is one thing when I'm being ridden, being mounted, but when atop her it's different. I'm the active one, I'm not exactly in control of the situation, but I'm definitely in charge of the pacing. The rhythm. And getting stuck in the labyrinthine corridors of carnal bliss is a quick recipe for slipping or hurting her or losing that pleasure entirely.

Those eyes hold me, watching me bounce atop her body. Mistress, blonde perfection and a brilliant blue gaze, smiles with utmost smugness. And God, I love looks like that. Ones that imply, in no uncertain terms, that she's some tigress, some queen of the jungle, and I'm her prey. I'm just meagre, weak, and serving some higher purpose in using my body to pleasure her so.

Nothing is so sexy as being hers, as belonging to her. To see, in those wonderful eyes, such possessive and prideful power.

'Faster,' Mistress says, trembling. 'Ugh. Quicker, slut. And tighten that--ooh--naughty arse.'

'Y-es, Mistress.'

Thup. Thwup. My balls jiggle and slap against her furry forest of golden pubes where they bounce around, each shuddering slam of my hips sending them wobbling about. They're small, compared to hers, but the sound is pleasing, and the feel of that faintly humid jungle against my sack is glorious. Thwup. Thup.

With each and every moment, every completed up-down motion, I'm driven closer and closer to climax. Little by little, I'm learning to restrain myself. Not because the ecstasy is lesser -- God, no -- but because, in holding on, the conclusion is all the rawer and nobler. Earned, rather than simply given freely. Amplified, as if every perpetuation of penis-induced pleasure prepares my nervous system to erupt in fantastical fanfare.

And then, out of the blue, Freya swiftly grabs my hips and hilts herself inside me. 'Ughn. Get fucking--mhm--pregnant, you slut!'

I blow my top instantly, the moment her helmet swells and cum-vein bulges. As my load splatters out across her beautiful stomach, hers sloshes out into my guts, creaming me with thick foreign warmth, all sticky and dense.

Our bodies shake and shiver, mingling marvellously. Her seed spurts out without apparent end in sight, a large futanari-grade ejaculation. I writhe and wiggle, clenching down, milking her member of every last drop of that genetically supreme semen. God, it's good to be bred. To be plugged to the limit with her bountiful ball cream.

'M-istress,' I say, losing balance. 'I--ugh--l-ove you.'

Freya wraps her arms around my shoulders and pulls me down atop her, her big breasts acting as the most wonderful cushion for my chest. Mistress kisses my head and strokes my hair, snuggling against me as her cock continues to deposit its virile payload. While I, of course, am spent.

'I love you too, slut. Ever so much.'

It's the most wonderful thing, to rest atop her. To be held by her strong arms, against her warmth, basking in her bubble-gum sweetness and sexual musk. To belong to her, and be with her, and at ease. All worries melting away, as her dick softens between my cheeks. Staying there, of course, held onto in some secondary embrace, welcome within me, right where it belongs.

*

I wake late, beside the gently snoring Freya. In the dark of night, a silvery sliver of moonlight creeping through to reveal her naked form, half covered by the thin summer duvet, I'm passingly in awe at just how lucky I am. How divine she is.

Freya stirs sweetly, but doesn't wake, when I kiss her forehead. A thirst grips me and I make my way down to the kitchen, noting as I pass through the upstairs hallways a light coming from beneath one of the rooms down the corridor. It must be past twelve, I'd think. Morgan's room?

But when I reach the open-plan kitchen, vast and impressive, I find Alicia bent over in front of the freezer. Her broad backside, facing me as I enter the room, might as well be nude given how poor a job her semi-transparent silken nightie does of covering its fat cheeks.

She turns as I stare, glancing back over a shoulder, raven hair falling about lusciously. Mrs Venyabildt, Freya's mother, smiles at me with illicit interest. That full-lipped look, paired with the alluring energy of those pale blue eyes, makes me deeply uncomfortable despite everything that's been said and suggested today.

'S-orry,' I stammer out, but Alicia chuckles.

She wiggles her bum from side to side. 'Something you like, honey? It's okay. We didn't exactly get a chance to properly introduce ourselves earlier, did we?'

I'm struck dumb, rooted to the spot, as she pulls up her nightie. Her tan and buxom backside is beautiful enough as is, revealed in the low light of the open freezer. All the more so, to catch a glistening hint of her sex, inner lips tantalising in their pretty prominence. Meaty, where Freya's pussy is neat and trim, but puffy just the same as her daughter's.

'Alicia...'

She lets the nightie drop back down and stands to her full height, an inch or so taller than myself. Shutting the freezer throws us into almost-darkness, making her mature beauty all the more mysterious and enchanting. The Venyabildt MILF swaggers over to me, clearly wholly naked beneath her gown, which clings against heavy breasts and erect nipples, makes obvious thick womanly curves suggestive of motherly fertility.

I'm struck by a mixture of smells. The sweetness of perfume, a fruitiness from soap, and a tang of sensual femininity. But something else, besides, carried on her breath and perhaps from elsewhere. A potent odour, musky and rich, somehow familiar and yet not. Edged in bitterness it nonetheless makes me salivate, provokes a response between my legs.

'It's okay,' Alicia says, her voice sonorous and warm, caring and carnal. She presses a hand to my groin, roughly fondling the growing erection. 'It's pretty sexy, isn't it? To have access to your Mistress's own mother, if you want it.'

It's wrong, no matter if Freya agrees. This woman is in her mid-forties, attractive as she is. She's Persephone's pet, just as I'm Freya's. And this is Freya and Morgan's mother.

God, the more I associate with these Venyabildts, the more wrong becomes right.

'Look, I just wanted some water.'

Alicia squeezes on my shaft, and I wince. 'But you want something else as well, don't you?'

I can do little when she kisses my cheek, with perverse passion to those full lips. Freya's mother nuzzles my face, chuckles with soft naughtiness. 'You've got a golden opportunity to taste where Freya came from, if you want it. Is your mind a gutter like mine, Tom? Pets of the Venyabildt line that we both are?'

I do. God, what a fucking thought. Eating Freya's mother's fat mature pussy. Shit.

I barely ever get to eat pussy. It's not "submissive enough" for Mistress, most of the time.

'Yes,' I say, quickly, before sanity can catch up. 'Please.'

Alicia strokes my face. 'Call me Mummy, Tom. Given that I might be your mother-in-law, sooner or later.'

A twisted, tantalising, terrific creature is Alicia Venyabildt. I can barely think, staring as she pulls her nightie aside, revealing that incredible body. Motherly breasts with broad areolas and prominent nipples, a little larger than Freya's, sagging sensually with their years. Smaller than Morgan's and Persephone's, though I've not seen theirs bare. Her hips are wide and womanly, belly slightly plump. There's a captivating chubbiness to the older woman, to the bona fide MILF, that jiggles joyously with every movement of her body.

She uses both hands to hoist herself up onto the central counter, angling her pelvis in such a manner as to present her coochie for me to marvel at and taste. Her bush is trimmed to a triangle, yet the hair in that patch is no less wild than my Mistress's. But it does allow ready access to her womanly bits without navigating a truly unkempt jungle.

'Go on, honey. Eat Mummy's pussy.'

Of course, I obey. All of it, the faux-incestuous styling, the age disparity, the vulgarity of doing such a thing in the dead of night in the kitchen, drives me into the welcoming arms of lasciviousness.

The tile flooring is warmed from beneath, but still hard on my knees. Alicia's coochie stinks in the best of ways, sexual beyond belief. Potent muskiness, abundant womanliness, but something else as well. Something...I'm not sure if I know or not.

Glistening in the almost-darkness, the thing is tantalisingly inviting.

All the more so when she cups my head from behind and urges me forwards, the radiant heat of her sex warming my face with its sweet humidity.

I press my hands against her thighs and burrow my nose in her thick pubes, smiling at my filthy luck as the richness of her smell clings deep in my nostrils. My lips find silkiness, exposed inner folds all velvety and protruding, kissing me back and leaving my mouth glazed in sweet stickiness.

Slurp. Mlep.

'Mhm. Good boy.' Alicia plays with my hair, trembling against me. 'Eat up. Get--aah--right in there with that naughty young tongue. Taste where--mhm--Freya came from.'

That notion possesses me with a fire like no other, insanely erotic. Perverse and yet pure.

'Mhm-hm.' Schlup. Slurp. 'Mumph.'

Her juices coat my lips, soak into my tongue. Familiar flavours, salty-sweet, yet more potent than memory would suggest. I trace out the protruding inner folds, meaty and delicious, before testing the little hood at the top, brushing faintly the pearl of Alicia's pussy.

She shakes her head, eyes glistening in the dark, barely visible. 'No, honey. Get inside. Get in me. I want to feel that lovely tongue inside.'

Her urgency is attractive, and I'm hardly going to refuse. But when I slide the tip of my tongue down the slick folds of her opening proper, and push it faintly inside, something from within falls out. Something heavy, warm, gooey...darkly familiar. Something from a third party, not present in our nocturnal tryst.

Semen.

I tremble, freeze up, as the fat glob of knotty cream slides onto my tongue, drooping over the sides but staying in place by sheer gluiness. Alicia chuckles, shivers softly. She plays with my hair, pats my scalp.

'Go on,' she says. 'You know whose it is, Tom. You know it won't be bad.'

Persephone. Persephone's ejaculate, drooling from Alicia's pussy. Freya's parents, and I'm managing to taste both in a single session of salacious depravity.

I pause, sucking the spurt of jism into my mouth. Tasting it, marvelling. God, it's...it's delicious. Guilty as the thought is, it's better than Freya's. Rich and salty and creamy, savoury, dense as hell. The passing mental image, the realisation that I'm tasting Freya and Morgan's recipe, in some perverse sense, makes my heart flutter. Aged futanari sperm, swimming about my mouth, is a perversely perfect thing.

I actually find myself slipping my hands beneath her thighs and burying my face into her snatch, working with vulgar voraciousness to taste more of the thick semen of the futanari "patriarch".

'Such a good boy.' Alicia runs her nails against my scalp, moans softly. 'Mhm. You're going to be very--aah--popular here, honey.'