One In Three Ch. 02

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Sofa cushions and an oversized pillow were arranged on the floor in a make-shift bed, and the four women stood around it nervously milling among each other naked and giggling, drinking wine and playing slap & tickle, feeling each other up and comparably remarking on their body parts – their breasts & nipples, their legs & butts, the girls admiring of Maggie’s big tits and sumptuous ass, and Maggie nostalgic for a time when she was as youth-lean & limber as they and without stretch-marks – and trying to figure who should go first and how to go about it.

George sat present almost as naked as the women, wearing only a bathrobe, though he was not expected to be needed. “Gretchen; then Ellie, then Bridgie” he finally said, deciding for them, and so they agreed.

Gretchen lay back onto the cushions, one knee up and the other less-so Maggie lay flat on her tummy, her face nestled close between her daughter’s spread legs and they arranged their hair behind their ears and said things between them only they could hear and giggled some more and generally did nothing – Maggie’s head up close and her hand firm on Gretchen’s thigh, high and inside, either holding her open or holding her off – neither of them sure of when to begin.

Straight women eat pussy with a sweet uncertainty: if reciprocated, they’ll do it with little persuasion – it’s ok and ok to like it, they all secretly know – but they’re afraid they shouldn’t: women don’t feel less feminine when they play gay, but straight men just don’t want to be girls.

They hesitated to quit chatting, both keeping Maggie’s mouth busy with talk, but after a minute they were quiet, Maggie looking up her young daughter’s belly at her and Gretchen looking down her front at her mom, and they knew it was time. Maggie gave an exploratory kiss of the girl’s downy muff.

“…please – maggie?” Gretchen grinned at her mother, and they both felt less weird –

two women now, rather than, more specifically, parent and child.

Maggie lowered her mouth onto her daughter’s vagina, and then began lapping at her girl’s soft pussy – tentatively at first, not having ever before eaten pie, then more hungrily, as if starving, and being a woman herself knowing to emphasize the girl’s hard clitoris – and after a few both short & infinite minutes Gretchen so-newbie-soon cumming an orgasm that arched her spine from the floor, her body bridged between her feet and shoulders and leaving her hung suspended in one lengthy spasm of locked muscles anchored at her mother’s mouth, then Maggie fed considerable swallows of girl-syrup of which her own she’d before had only tastes.

Maggie had been hearing mouth sounds not her own and looked over her shoulder from Gretchen’s crotch to see Eleanor & Bridget taking turns deep-throating their father about as well as could be expected of beginners: gagging at 7 inches, then retreating back to the top 3 and sucking hard, then descending again, choking, and then letting the other have another go at it. Eleanor took the moment to trade places with her sister at their mother’s mouth, Bridget now taking throat-fulls of her father’s meat way-past her tonsils.

The other girls’ slurps & gurgles ceased, and then there were squeaks & shrieks, Eleanor squirming at her mother’s mouth, and glancing back again, Maggie now saw Gretchen in her father’s lap straddling him, her face hidden at his neck and his hands at her slip-of-a-waist, her ass perched high atop his cock and wriggling her hips ever forcibly lower onto him – then cramming her cunt full-all of George that she couldn’t get down her throat, and then feeling Bridget waiting behind her until she was through her hymen, and start pushing, noisily straight-arming the vibrator up her sister’s ass while she tried to work her way down, giving her as too-much too-soon as her was all her strength, venting her lusts until it was her turn for something.

Irregular pules Eleanor made her mother’s face a shiny frosting of her own writhing lesbian-esque lusts, then crawled out from under Maggie’s mouth for her turn to climb aboard George and begin the same labored descent as had Gretchen.

Bridget hastily aligned herself under her mother’s face, her thighs bracketing her mother’s blond head, and Maggie saw little of the timidity in her that was of either of her other two daughters’ – she’d spent the last hour in the midst of her sisters’ sexing, and was by now wild to be sexed as well: some breath and a touch of tongue, and Bridget immediately began a slow writhe and groaning loudly, exhibiting none of the shy preface of her sisters. Maggie drank and lapped deeply from her daughter’s crotch, her grown-girl’s vulva fat and enflamed, her vagina an already hot and bothered bowl brimming with girl-soup, and Maggie caught matadorbet up with her daughter’s ready impatience 20 seconds after beginning and in time for her too-soon dam-break, and she spent another half-hour and 2 climaxes more with Bridget to allow for her to settle and for Eleanor to finish with her business with George.

Eleanor lay back again, beckoning Gretchen, and she climbed atop her sister, slowly swinging a leg over Ellie’s head and squatting onto her face, and she in turn bringing a knee behind Gretchen’s neck, urging her head between her legs, each as firmly securing the other.

The camera was still watching, seeing all at once: on the sofa, now Bridget sitting astride her father, leaned into him and hugging his neck, her face pressed to his shoulder, jumping her haunches down and on the floor, Gretchen & Eleanor lying at odds, over & under, and their faces curtained behind their hair and hidden between the other’s thighs, their bodies rubbing and rocking at opposites and their heads bobbing at crotch.

And Maggie, observing her family, now resting laid back in the lounger with her knees over the armrests, feeling her girls’ fluids a thin transparent mask drying on her face, and half-wearing one of the robes draped off her shoulders and her legs wide divided, leisurely petting herself until it would be her turn, her daughters’ flavors a still fishy presence.

Gretchen & Eleanor were soon locked together in climax and crying out muffled into each’s muff and Bridget shook & twitched at what remained of her orgasm, her last stabs at herself slow & savoring, her smell wafting up her front between her and her daddy as if any further evidence was necessary.

Bridget unimpaled herself and the sisters scrambled into place, the three girls gathered kneeling between their father’s open legs, his daughters fondling his large balls and coaxing his erection with the wet warmth of their mouths in a kind of musical chairs – or Russian Roulette, each chancing his ejaculate last or first.

Gretchen and Bridget and Eleanor shared their father’s cock among themselves, servicing him a minute apiece for ten minutes more, and it was Eleanor then, leaning in again for yet another mouthful who took the first facial: a hot spew sharp as it was startling – then from right to left, Eleanor, Bridget and Gretchen, George distributed his load evenly over his daughters’ awaiting faces, their eyes closed tight and their father spunking into their open mouths and across their bright delight, bullets of sperm and their startled laughter a giggly amusement and his opaque half-pint dripping thick from their chins – their daddy’s ejaculate sweeping across their cheeks and brows and lips, a spray of semen spewing onto their looks, grey-white sludge hosing down his daughters’ fresh complexions with his cloudy broth and splashing his girls’ bright faces awash in their father’s glaze – sticky strings and strands strung in their hair and between them and striping their faces and foreheads in gooey crosshatches and interconnecting the trio in a wet web of their daddy’s byproduct, the girls unselfconsciously laughing at the common mess that bound them.

The girls affectionately licked clean each other’s faces of the gluey-white with the same care and fun absurdity as they’d as children once given themselves makeovers and applied makeup. Gretchen then lay over Bridget and they made short work of munching each other’s muffs – Eleanor now servicing her mother seated wide-open in the lounger, and after she’d made Maggie, Gretchen stepped into place for her share, and before Bridget could sit up Eleanor as well took a seat over Bridget’s mouth. Within an hour, the three girls, The Coup, would end up all converging on their mother at once as hyenas do easy prey – Maggie welcoming her daughters’ tongues & touches, their devouring of her as a blasphemous worship as is perfect all prayer.

The five of them would repeat this circus another night – soon and less formally, just for fun and their research moot – and then the girls’d be at ease enough with what was happening to cum unassisted; no one makes friends their first day at school, and it’d take another session before they’d be that chummy with being buttfucked. The three would spend the rest of the evening sitting sore and mushy from the waist back and saying into a voice-recorder everything they could think of regarding their ideal ordeal.

The Coup returned to school the following week and their classmates, virgins and vixens alike, sensed the change in them: their calm and confidence and focus – the three girls admitted to nothing one way or the other but found themselves respected nonetheless, if not a little feared.


As it turned out, the paper would take matadorbet giriş years to write, it’s thesis evolving to include their whole dynamic: all the lesbianism among themselves, and that time with their mother and the ensuing hetero-sex with their father – more than just the one buttfuck. They were home again on break from university, now 19 and sophomores, and nothing had happened, at least as a family, on any of their previous visits since that time two years ago; they’d been regularly doing each other queer in their dorm rooms, but no dick. The girls had seemed really, really glad to see their folks on the drive home from the airport – the five of them crowded into the back of the limousine, there were many more ostensibly accident, lingering touches & squeezes of curves and crotches and a bulge than excited chat and close proximity could excuse – and now two days into their visit Maggie sensed her daughters’ would not wait long: today it was early afternoon, and she had just got back from an errand to the bank, having deposited yet more royalties.

Indeed, before her key was in the door she could hear the knock-knock-knock against a far wall within. Inside, a voice loudly accompanied the pounding and she saw Bridget and Gretchen lounging in the main room with wine-coolers, the sisters dressed in nighties too flimsy to be warm and too sexy to be comfortable – in the middle of the day and in line for their turn – and from her daughters’ bedroom the violent sound of a third young woman shrieking to her daddy to do her harder, faster.

Bridget approached her mother with a drink for her, smiling, closing the front door behind her and bolting it:

“Hi mommy” not as a child, kissing her mother’s lips, gently, and shooting her some tongue, and Maggie as jazzed by her daughters’ strength and assuredness as was George by her own; the sisters were ferocious regarding each other’s welfare, but with the most satisfying appetites they knew often came necessary harm: it was Ellie getting banged and it would soon be another of her girls, and then the other, because this is what they wanted – and too this girl-love also, her daughters aggressing sex on her as well; it blew her away and they could go out to the theater another night.

“We’ve missed you” said Gretchen, as sweetly, honestly licentious; they were older and wanted some alone-time sex, with their mother too while another was alone with their father. “Daddy thought we should wait…” elsewhere her sister’s voice desperate , begging him to spare her nothing, ” – but Ellie was insistent.”

Maggie let herself into her daughters’ bedroom for a peek and saw all she’d been hearing: their backs to her, her brother – her man and his scrawny shanks hauling into a lush, younger spread – their daughter on all-fours in front of him and the girl’s hands pressed to the headboard as they repeatedly beat marks into the wall with the small bed; an empty jar of Vaseline lay discarded aside them. Maggie stepped toward this salt-raw incest and put an arm over George’s shoulder, observing, and he slowed his pace to address her – evenly, deliberate, his prick pistoning in & out of the girl’s rectum like a machine on idle.

“…there’s still the other two…” he told his sister, his lover, the mother of this daughter of his of whom he was sodomizing.

“I know; we’ll be busy ourselves” and leaning down to tell her daughter, ” – save some for your sisters; they’re waiting.” Eleanor had only the breath to grin back at her, but then managed ” – save some of you for me.”

George brought his hand off the naked asscheek of a nineteen-year-old girl he was presently having ass-sex with to place it over the bluejean-ed butt-round of an older woman who would never be this fresh again, and looked up at her as if it were all the same: she knew he hadn’t forgotten her and that first time, that very first time – when they were sixteen, before the video, before they dared touch each other again, and had done this very thing so badly in that motel room so very long ago and far away in their experience, and it was still something sweet between them because they had both cried afterwards – kids folded in each other’s arms and scared at the mess they’d made of their emotions and the only bed they could afford; they’d stayed close the whole night, sleeping together in the middle of the wet spot of their blood & semen and God didn’t hate them.

Maggie bent down and kissed her young lady’s bum, adding a hungry love-bite and a pat of her quim:

“Don’t hurt yourself, baby.”

“uh-huh…” she delighted to her mother, and George began again big squishes of his daughter’s anus with his thrusts and the headboard was again a racket; Maggie closed the door on her way back to Gretchen and Bridget, and overheard Eleanor privately free once more to yell every vile thing she’d ever wanted say about wanting her daddy to fuck her butt while he was fucking her butt and her sisters felt every word of it and started in on their mother in their anxiousness for their moment to say the same.

Maggie let herself be lead over to the couch for a brief sit between her near-naked daughters, and did nothing to assist their quick undress of her – made nude but for her bra they removed her bra for whole sucking mouthfuls of their mother’s fruits and got her underwear off for a taste of her true flavor, and Maggie lay a leg over their shoulders each, drawing both her daughters’ faces between her thighs nearer from where they came almost twenty years ago and ever feeling their tongues crazily soft & electric in her increasing wetness. To her right, as yet unmentioned and still colorfully boxed in its cardboard and bright cellophane, lay a ridiculously huge dildo she knew to be no novelty gag: “14 inches long! 4 Inches Wide!” if not for the straps & buckles it should have been only a joke. Next to it, less significantly, lay the girls’ regular aid, just the standard six inches, built for pleasure rather than as a test of one’s mettle, its wear apparent.

Eleanor would step-in for Bridget, limping bow-legged and dripping from their room and falling into place between her mother’s thighs, and it would next be Bridget’s shouts and bed-wrecking for forty more minutes so soon after the door was closed. And then, again finally, Gretchen from the other side of those walls, alternately losing breath and screaming for greater depth and speed as her ass was pushed to swallow meat she could hardly hold for a last squirt of sperm where it didn’t belong.

The family regrouped in the main room, the girls collected on the couch close to their mother and George seated in the lounger, all of varied post-coital flush and the gargantuan sex toy still lying in wait unexplained. George drank beer, his bald cock fat and exhausted in his lap, and sensed he would be audience again to something among his women; the females spoke only with their eyes and smiles and slight motions and adjustments – to George as well, but becoming increasingly involved and inversely less conscious of his watch.

Bridget began un-packaging the synthetic cock – she could have been only unfolding a newspaper, as naturally obvious as they all were nude, but the moment announced itself; she and Gretchen carefully strapped Eleanor into the dildo and it didn’t matter that it was initially she who would first do their mother – the tool half-again larger than was her brother, this hard-rubber mass would be way-big up Maggie from all her girls regardless of who went at her first. Maggie would not kid herself – this was very suddenly about to be very much not about sex; she had been through this before with her brother.

Bridget and Gretchen took their mother by the hand, and Maggie let herself be lead by her two daughters to be positioned on her knees all he had, including their daughters, was as a result of her – and she waved him off with a small move of her hand and a nod; so much for him cleaning-up his act, George sat back down and lit a cigarette and took a long swig of more beer.

An act of invasiveness and dominance performed with such slow gentleness – if the girls were any more considerate it wouldn’t be buttfucking at all – despite it all from all-three of her grown-girls, a seemingly endless stretch of love as effort: dispelling all guilts and shames and self-consciousness with this mutual humility, these four women hugging crumpled upon each other and locked in a embrace so as to hold them all together, this sodomy of mother by daughters a loving chore for both; the girls couldn’t have been more tender with their mother had they been shampooing her hair – the softness in their eyes, their expressions, penetrations as if deep caresses, a massage as careful as so monstrous an assfucking could be managed, the struggle to not lose ground as great as that to progress.

It had been years since Maggie was tight enough to be overwhelmed; her brother could still sting her fanny, but hard, regular practice had reduced unbridled trauma to a surprise that always, but only, caught her a little off-guard. George always liked that she’d never quite get used to it.

And so Maggie hid nothing this afternoon as well – curled on all-fours, she lay her head alternately in each of her daughters’ laps and held them tight about their waists as firmly as she herself was held her in place, a second girl comforting but Bridget and Gretchen and Eleanor had each in turn worn that same expression themselves another evening earlier two years ago – that feeling from behind of being gutted without having been actually cut – and the three girls knew that first, tried look: that split-second too late that they’d changed their minds, and then just endlessly enduring until it got better.

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