Unknown: Mom_s in on the marriage

Oh, it was so thrilling! Their breasts moved together, nipples brushing nipples, and Lauralee locked her legs around her lover's moving, thrusting body. Cunt to cunt, they stroked together, and it was slippery, juicy, the occasional touching of their clits a fabulous sensation.

They were actually doing it, Lauralee thought; they were really FUCKING. She wriggled and rolled back upon her shoulder blades, so the girl could use her clit like a miniature penis – no, a PRICK – and moved her crotch with welcoming, sinuous motions. Locked in each other's arms, their mouths and their bodies welded together, they screwed blissfully, the perfect tenderness bringing a slow but deeply gratifying love to them. Lauralee was ecstatic. She knew only a momentary stab of guilt, soon gone and gladly denied. She knew only a passing moment of regret that all of her thirty-six years had been wasted, before this night.

Her husband could have done this to her, if only he had been kind and gentle instead of such an animal. Marshall might have made her body sing, too. But Lauralee doubted that; he was just a man, without the delicate touch this adorable girl owned, without her assurance.

"That's the way," Bettina panted. "That's the way to lay that rich cunt up to me, baby. Oh yeah, yeah – you can really grind it, Lauralee. Oh wow, and I thought you were frigid, all uptight. Man, how wrong I was – oohh! – you're a hot lay, a real – hot – screw!"

Lauralee pushed back at the girl's plunging crotch, grinding to bring their clits together, because she was a hot lay, because it felt so good to be wanted and loved and appreciated. They were giving to each other, not one of them simply taking from the other because he was bigger and stronger. Pussy to pussy, they churned and hunched, bringing themselves inexorably to a shivering climax. It was sweet and piercing, that orgasm, fulfilling and warm.

In lassitude, Lauralee clung to this wonderful girl her son had married, cuddling the slim, delicate body close and holding their tingling cunts plastered together. The water bed beneath them rocked sensuously, cradling them, lulling them. Somewhere beyond, the porno movie went on, or maybe it was another one. This time, the moans of the women and the gasping of men seemed like music; now Lauralee could read the notes and catch the rhythm. It was a melody for lovers.

Bettina rolled easily off her body and lay to one side, a forearm across her eyes, small, round breasts rising and falling rapidly. Lazily, Lauralee watched the movement of the pink nipples. She wondered how they would taste, if she dared to wrap her tongue around them. Funny, she thought; she had never entertained such a thought before. Did it mean that she was a lesbian, that what had gone wrong in her marriage had been HER fault, and not Marshall's?

She kept staring at the delicious-looking cones of the girl's breasts, and her eyes wandered down the supple length of the delicately formed body, so small and youthful, to the patch of curly, darkly golden hair nestled between slender, perfect thighs. No wonder her son had been so intrigued by Bettina; no wonder he had run away and married her.

Lauralee blinked. Her SON; she had been doing all these lascivious things with her own son's wife, with a girl even younger than Robbie. But – and she frowned – but this girl did it with him, too. Bettina couldn't be a lesbian, if she enjoyed screwing men also. Could she? Lauralee was confused. Too many things were happening to her at once, and she was having difficulty coping.

On the screen across the room, someone said huskily, "Oh eat me, darling – eat my pussy."

Trembling, Lauralee reached out one hand and cupped the child's appealing breast. Her thumb and forefinger rolled the erectile nipple between them. Mesmerized, she leaned closer, and nuzzled into the dainty valley between the twin globes. They were soft and scented, rounded and beguiling. Lauralee's tongue eased out and toyed with the pink tip. Bettina shivered, but didn't take her arm down from her eyes, and Lauralee knew a lifting of confidence.

By not moving Bettina had told her silently that the girl's spectacular body was hers for the taking, for using as she saw fit. It was a strange moment, when Lauralee realized that, when she knew she could do anything with another person's naked flesh – handle it, kiss it, pat and fondle and caress – even hurt it, if she so desired.

All she wanted to do was to love this captivating body, to bring it as much pleasure as it had given her. Lauralee refused to think beyond this scintillating moment, to go past the NOW of love. Sometime, somewhere she would have to turn this radiant child back to her new husband. But she didn't want to think of that dreary moment, and put it out of her head.

Tenderly, she sucked upon the girl's nipple, relishing its flavor, its aroma lying perfumed upon her tongue. She played her hands over Bettina's flesh, over the narrow hips and across the flat stomach. Inch by inch, her fingers strayed ever closer to the charming nest of pubic hair so gleaming and soft. Lauralee touched it, and was thrilled by its silken texture, by the damp heat rising through its ringleted moss.

She peered down, releasing the breast from her lips with reluctance, but drawn by something far more compelling. Cupping the downy mattress of Bettina's mound with one palm, she kissed the girl's tremulous belly, and wriggled the end of her tongue into the dimpled belly button.

Bettina moved then, twitching at the wet tingle, and Lauralee moved farther down, trailing her lips over creamy skin. There were the labia, pulsing red and symmetrical beneath their covering of glistening fur. The pussy lips seemed to be pulsing, to be awaiting the caress that would bring them leaping and writhing. Lauralee didn't wait any longer. She probed down into the fleecy bush and licked the full and pouting labia. She tasted musk, and exotic spices she couldn't identify, and her own breasts ached with need.

Turning her body and positioning herself between the girl's spread legs, Lauralee slid her palms beneath the dainty cheeks of Bettina's ass, and stared down into the opened pussy. Moaning then, she plunged her feverish face into that adorable crotch, into the silken hair and against the pulsating labia. She drove her extended tongue greedily into them, through their rubbery clinging and into the steamy hole.

As Bettina gasped and rolled her belly, Lauralee exulted. She was doing it, licking another woman's most private part, feeling around the velvet sheath with her tongue and raking her teeth gently against the spongy cunt lips. Using her tongue the way she remembered the girl doing it, Lauralee drilled deeply, and withdrew with quick little curlings.

Her daughter-in-law hunched tempestuously to her mouth, and Lauralee sucked, trying to draw all the honeyed sweetness down her throat. It was slick, wondrous liquid, fantastically intimate juice that taste of love, beautiful, horny love. It bathed her chin and cheeks, and all she could think of was a seedless, ripe pomegranate.

There was the clitoris, the quivering, succulent little clit, hidden in its protective covering; Lauralee's tongue found it quickly. She was growing more experienced with every passing moment, and thought perhaps experience really wasn't necessary like this, woman to woman. Now that she knew her own body, she also knew those of other women. Far better than any man could know them, she was certain.

Drawing upon the clit, she manipulated its nubbin with her tongue, circling it, pressing down, then releasing. Bettina was squirming fervently, rocking her sleek hips from side to side and humping, grinding, smearing her glossy cunt into Lauralee's mouth. Lauralee ate it, tried to devour it, to swallow it down and take its sugared juices forever into herself.