As with all my stories, the people and places are real. In this one, the events are pure fantasy.
Marsha and I were sitting in the Arcade Drive-in Theater sipping our fountain drinks, cooling down from the fuck we’d just finished. We’d rolled the windows down and it was almost too cool outside, but the interior still smelled of sweat and woman’s passion. The remaining windows were still fogged, too.
“Bob and my mom seem to be getting along well,” she said rather matter-of-factly. There was an odd tone to her voice, though.
“They do. I can’t tell you how shocked I was to find out, though.” Hmmm. The hairs on my neck were pricking up.
“Well, I’m just glad I don’t have to taste and smell her on you anymore.” Again, in that unemotional, matter-of-fact voice. Oh, fuck, I was busted. I started to say something but couldn’t think of anything that wouldn’t sound like lying or damage control. I flashed back to that day her mother, Mrs. D, had called me out on fucking her daughter. Being completely open and honest had done the trick because that was also the day that she and I started our tryst. She was at her sexual peak and romance prospects in our small town were nil. Basically, she had me fuck her to keep her satisfied.
Okay, that sounds bad, much colder than how it really was. It was honestly a mutual decision that either of us could have stopped at any moment. Fortunately, I was at my sexual peak, too, and could get it up often with only short breaks. That came in handy when I’d fuck Mrs. D in the afternoon right before going out with her daughter. Now I realized the quick shower wasn’t sufficient. Maybe a scrub brush and Pine-Sol under the foreskin?
Marsha was my age, maybe a few months younger, and simply delicious. Sweet face, awesome body, incapable of just one orgasm, and adventurous in the back seat/bedroom. We’d even done anal at her suggestion. Come to think of it, that was after Mrs. D and I had started. I wondered if she was trying to one-up her mom. Anyhow, there was nothing we hadn’t tried and through those experiences, learned there was nothing we didn’t mutually like. I’d never considered Marsha for a long-term relationship, but that was beginning to change. Now I wondered if we’d be together beyond tonight. The thought of us breaking up surprisingly did not sit well with me. I waited.
“I think I understand why you and she got together, and judging by the way you’ve treated me since, I don’t feel like it’s damaged OUR relationship.” She put a strong emphasis on “our”. “Steve, I like you … a lot … a whole lot, and when I first smelled her on you, it hurt. When I could taste her, it hurt even more. And those bites, scratches, and nail marks? I can only imagine what you two are like together.”
Damn, I was confused. On the one hand, the things she was saying sounded like she was maybe going to be okay with it. I mean, we did just fuck, and she wasn’t screaming or crying or anything you’d expect considering the topic. But there was that business-like tone with something running underneath it. That was really throwing me off. I still waited, hoping to be on clearer ground before saying anything.
“How did you two get together? No, never mind, I shouldn’t know that; don’t know why I asked.” We sat there in silence, her staring straight ahead through the windshield, me looking at … hell, I have no idea. I was too busy waiting for the blade to fall on my neck.
A jumble of thoughts crashed around in my head. Two emerged in dominance over the others. First, I didn’t want this to damage Marsha’s relationship with her mother. Second, I didn’t want this to damage Marsha’s relationship with me. The first moved me to speak. It was important she understood something.
“Marsha, I hope you understand that what happened between your mom and me, well, it was just a physical thing. In fact, it was for her benefit, not mine.” Fuck, that sounded lame. The way she tilted her head as she continued to stare straight ahead suggested she thought so, too. “I mean, Jesus, how do I put this? Your mom had not had any physical contact, sexually, since she and Asshole parted ways. How many years has that been? Can you imagine yourself going that long? Add to that the knowledge that her daughter was having sex, regularly, and was expecting her to support our dating. She needed a source of relief, a safe one for both her and your sakes. Turns out, I seemed to be that source. Honestly, hon, I won’t say I didn’t enjoy it, but it was nothing like what we experience together. There’s something between us that your mom and I never had that makes making love to you so much more special.”
Whoa! “Making love?” Where did that come from? And “hon?” I’d never used any term of endearment toward her. Well, whatever, I’d said my piece, it was as honest as it could be, now it was up to her. I waited.
After a year’s worth of a few moments, she seemed to relax. “I get it.” That’s all she said, but the matter-of-fact tone and the odd undercurrent were both gone. She was back to the Marsha I knew. “I couldn’t imagine going five years without you … um … without sex.” I caught that slip and it did much to ease my worries. She turned her head and looked at me questioningly, as if pondering whether or not to say something. Then she did.
“So, she started with you, then somehow moved to Bob, but you still satisfy her from time to time. Is that right?” I nodded. “Do you and Bob ever do her together?” Shit!
“We have. A few times. His first time with her was that way because he interrupted us.” Open honesty had worked with her mom all those months ago, I hoped it worked with Marsha, too. I watched her carefully as I said that, as carefully as I could in the flickering light from the movie screen shining on the back row. I didn’t see her flinch.
“Tell me about it.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper. That set off all sorts of alarms in my head. Nothing about answering that seemed like a good idea, but I couldn’t think of any dodge that wouldn’t smack of lying by omission. With a strong sense of déjà vu, I forged ahead.
“Your mom and I were having sex one afternoon when Bob walked in unexpectedly. Scared the shit out of both of us.” I omitted that I was about to cum when it happened. “He was so embarrassed.” That brought a soft laugh from her. “He was leaving when I had the idea that maybe he could take some of the load off me. Honestly, Marsha, it was stressful satisfying her in the afternoon, then going out with you afterward, worrying that you might notice something which, as it turns out, you did.” That last bit was said with true remorse. The last thing I wanted was for Marsha to find out and be hurt over it. I failed on that one.
“I called him back and suggested he join us. Your mom slapped me on the back and it wasn’t gentle. She was so against the idea. Shocked, even. I have to say, I worked a pretty good sales job on her, showing her how including Bob would be for her benefit. She agreed and he joined us,” I paused, considering just how much to tell her. Something about her body language, her expression, the intent look in her eye, all told me to tell it all. “We spit-roasted her.”
Marsha’s eyes and mouth flew open in shock. I wondered if I could have found a gentler way to say it. Oh, well, cat’s out now. “You mean her doggy, one in front, one behind, at the same time?” she asked in surprise.
“Yeah. Bob took her from behind while I took her mouth.” Marsha’s mouth snapped shut and she stared at me as she processed the visual.
After several moments, “Knowing you, you came in her mouth.” I nodded. “Does she like it?” I nodded again.
“She swallows,” I added. Another pause while she processed that. I refrained from making the “like mother, like daughter” comparison.
“And Bob?” I almost said I didn’t know, I’d never cum in his mouth, but that didn’t seem like a proper joke at the moment and I knew what she was asking.
“She told Bob that he could cum wherever he wanted, but if she had to move to let her know. After I came, Bob told her to roll over, he straddled her waist, I think he was headed for her mouth but didn’t make it. The first squirt made it all the way into her mouth, the rest he slung all over her and the bed.” I was grinning and shaking my head at the last part. Sharing this with her was getting easier.
“Damn,” she exclaimed, the paused again to process it all. “How often do you have threesomes?”
Thinking that was an odd question, but the whole night had gone odd, I answered, “We’ve only done it three, maybe four other times.”
“So, about once a month,” she said, nodding thoughtfully. My neck hairs prickled up a little again. “Have you ever done a foursome?” Fuck! What??!!??
“Um, no. Who would we do it with?” That was intended as a rhetorical question.
Her gaze locked on mine with an uncomfortable intensity. “Have you and Bob done anything with each other?”
Good Lord! I think my shocked expression was probably enough, but I answered verbally anyway. “No fucking way! Neither of us are into guys. There’s been only a few times we’ve even bumped into each other. Hands or feet, that’s all.” Oh, God, I was babbling. OK, Steve, shut up now.
Apparently, I struck her as comical (which I probably was) because she laughed gently, not at me, but because of my flustered state. She also seemed to relax a bit again as she nodded to herself some more.
“So, a foursome would probably have to include another woman, since there’s already an abundance of men.” She had a thoughtful, far-away expression.
“Where is this going?” I asked.
“Oh, nowhere. Just following a thought train. It’s last chance for the concession stand before the second feature comes on. Let’s go.” We made final adjustments on our clothes and headed over for snacks. I have no idea what the second feature was because we spent most of it fucking and the snacks went home with us.
Since all the cats were out of the bags, Marsha and I spent the night in her bedroom. Bob had already gone home, one of Mrs. D’s rules. Marsha and I just went to bed and slept. The night had been quite taxing, both physically and emotionally for us both. I don’t know about her, but I slept like a baby in her arms.
Waking up the next morning, her being the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes, made me think I could do this more, for a long time. She was already awake and watching me. Sounds of breakfast cooking in the kitchen and the smell of bacon and eggs urged us out of bed. I pulled on my pants and shirt, Marsha donned her robe and we went out into the living room to the kitchen.
“Good morning, Sunshines,” her mom said as she grabbed toast from the toaster and began buttering it. Looking at me she asked, “How’d you sleep?” I told her I slept like a baby. Looking at Marsha she asked, “How about you? Did you sleep through this baby’s snoring?” What?? Me snoring? No!
Marsha laughed at my expression. Smiling at me she replied, “He doesn’t snore. It’s more like very heavy breathing.”
“Huh! Spin it however you want, sweetie, he snores.” I started to ask Mrs. D if I’d kept her awake, but she cut me off, “Come on, kids. Breakfast’s served.” And a damned good breakfast it was.
After the food was all inside us and we’d cleaned and put away the dishes, we went into the living room where Marsha and I sat on the couch. Mrs. D stood in front of us and asked, “What are you kids up to today?”
“Mom, can we talk?” She looked at me. “Alone, please?” That was unexpected. I looked from her to Mrs. D, and back. Mrs. D’s expression was one of wariness and she looked to me as if for an explanation. I raised my eyebrows and tilted my head toward Marsha slightly. I hoped that served as sufficient warning because I had a feeling what was coming.
“Think I’ll take a walk,” I said, as I stood and headed for the door.
“Might want to make it a long one. Doesn’t your car need washing?” Oh, fuck, I’m glad I didn’t have to be there. I nodded and left. Geez, what to do on a Sunday morning in a small town? Certainly not church. Just got stuffed with breakfast so the Krystal was out. Guess I’ll wash my car. Ran it through the self-serve carwash, dried it, cleaned as much as I could on the interior, then drove around for a while until I was somewhere between bored out of my mind and curious out of my mind. It had been a couple of hours. I headed back to Marsha’s.
As I walked in, I sensed a tension, but didn’t hear any crying. I took that as a good thing. Marsha and her mom were on opposite ends of the couch, both facing straight ahead. No red eyes, but some nervousness. “Did I come back too soon?” I asked.
“No. We just finished up,” her mom answered. I had not a clue what to do or say or anything, so I waited. I was good at waiting. I’d learned it often brought out what folks were trying to hide, but that wasn’t the intent now. I just wanted one of them to take the lead.
“It was windy last night. Let’s go to the park and walk through the leaves before the crews clean them up,” Marsha suggested. Sounded like a good idea to me and we left Mrs. D sitting there on the couch.
Nothing was said on the way over to Oak Park. We picked an area with lots of oak, hickory, and cottonwood trees. Those made a beautiful combination of colors. Strolling hand in hand through the crisp fall air, we kicked them as high as we could, occasionally laughing when they’d sometimes get blown back into our faces and hair.
“Mom’s story matches yours,” she said. I was taken aback at what seemed to be distrust after I’d been so open and honest. She caught my expression. Stopping and turning toward me, she gripped my upper arm with both hands. “It’s not that I didn’t believe you. I’m sorry, I worded that badly. I guess it just seemed so fantastical that I had a hard time accepting it but hearing it from her cemented it in my mind.” OK, that was better. We resumed our stroll but left the leaves alone.
“I also asked her about a foursome.” The fuck? “She’d be open to it with a man or woman.” That jumbled up in my head. “Just saying that if any of you run across someone you’d like to bring in, she’s willing. Options, you know?”
That was a bit of a blow. Well, maybe she’s just trying to do her part to help her mom make up for the lost time in the sexual satisfaction department. We continued to chat and stroll until early afternoon when Marsha suggested we return home.
Pulling into the parking lot, I noticed Bob’s car. “Bob’s here. We should stay gone until later,” I suggested.
“Don’t be silly. Come on.” Marsha hopped out of the car and headed for the front door. I figured it would be locked, something we were all careful to do since Bob had walked in on Mrs. D and me months ago. I followed her and it opened right up. Relief washed over me. At least they weren’t having at each other.
Walking in, we were greeted by the sounds of Mrs. D approaching climax. Whoops! I took Marsha’s arm to guide her back outside, but she pulled away, tossing her coat onto the couch as she passed through the living room toward her mom’s bedroom. The bedroom with the open door and the sight of Mrs. D riding Bob cowgirl fashion. As I approached, the scent of her passion became strong. Standing in the doorway next to Marsha, I could see Mrs. D’s juices glistening on Bob’s balls and a darkness on the sheets below him. I also could see his rather large cock sliding effortlessly in and out her womanhood. Glancing at Marsha, I could see by her expression he was as much a surprise to her as he had been to me. The squishy sounds of Mrs. D’s pussy didn’t quite drown out Marsha’s increased breathing. Oh, fuck, she was getting turned on.
The gears in my head were spinning a hundred miles an hour trying to play this scenario out when Marsha cleared her throat. The gears promptly bound up. Bob made a sound like he’d been hit in the chest and his hand went over his heart as it did when he was startled. Mrs. D simply turned her head toward us and smiled. What?? Then it hit. Fuck, this was a setup. Oh, wicked, wicked women. Wait. Mother and daughter? I think some of the gears stripped on that. Well, my, my, Bob. Karma’s come full circle, hasn’t it? I almost laughed.
Lifting up, disengaging from his cock with a slurping sound, she said, “Move over, sweetie. Make room. This bed’s big enough for two couples.” Well, alrighty, then. Marsha and I stripped down and climbed in beside them. Mrs. D had reconnected with Bob and was bouncing on him while he stared wide-eyed at us. Marsha lay on her back and I dropped my face to her crotch. I couldn’t see Bob anymore.
Marsha was drenched when I got there. I didn’t see her panties, but I bet they were soaked by her nectar. Damn, I loved her scent and flavor. Combined with the scent from her mom, I went to the edge quickly, but just hung there. That had never happened before. She and her mom were distinctly different. Mom’s scent was muskier, stronger, her nectar was thinner, but had a … I can’t really describe it … a depth to the flavor. Marsha’s scent and flavor were both lighter, fresher, and her nectar was thicker and had a more robust slickness to it. Like comparing maple syrup to honey, except slippery, not sticky.
I licked Marsha to a quick climax, then knelt between her legs as she grabbed my cock and slipped it between her labia. Teasingly, I slowly slipped into her, not stopping until I was buried to the hilt and could feel her cervix against my glans. She closed her eyes and let a strong moan that lasted throughout the penetration. Her legs came up and rested her ankles on my shoulders. I began slowly pumping in and out of her, in no rush for it to end.
Now I had a clear view of Mrs. D and Bob. Mrs. D’s eyes were closed, mouth open, head tilted back slightly as she worked her hips on Bob’s cock in a circular motion while also rising and falling. I knew her pussy muscles were working him, too. That combination is an awesome experience, I know.
Both of Bob’s hands were on her breasts. I took one and moved it to Marsha’s breast. Bob’s wide eyes looked at me, then his hand. Marsha turned her head, smiled at him, and placed her hand over his. As he began massaging her breast, I grabbed Mrs. D’s vacated one and began a similar action. Watching my best friend massaging my girl’s tit made me wonder why I wasn’t jealous. Maybe because I was deep inside her at the time. I quickened my rhythm and her squishy sounds began to match her mom’s.
The room was filled with female groans, moans and sighs, the liquid sounds of penetrated wet pussies, the heavy breathing of four people at the height of passion, and the bed started squeaking. Really? I sighed silently. Squeaky beds annoy the fuck out of me, but I guess two couples fucking was too much for it. Nothing to do but keep on keeping on.
Mrs. D was the first to go over. Her hip actions became very frantic as a stream of unintelligible sounds spilled from her mouth and throat. She leaned onto his chest with her hands, fists clenching and driving her nails into the flesh around his nipples. With a loud sound of some mixture of a scream and a sigh, she came. Her hip action ceased as she sat down hard on his cock and her entire body trembled and shuddered for what must have been a half minute. His eyes were locked on her face as he lay there while she rode it out. Marsha was watching, too, her face flushed, eyelids at half-mast, lips parted with the tip of her tongue just peeking out. Bob’s hand tightly clenched her right breast, but I wasn’t sure she even noticed. She was in a lust-fog on the threshold of orgasm yet transfixed by her mom’s climax.
When Mrs. D’s orgasm wound down Bob grabbed her hips and began pounding up into her, seeking his own release. Marsha came back to reality a bit and put her hand on his stomach, pressing down. “Wait. No. Not yet,” she insisted. Bob stopped his thrusting and looked at her with a confused and slightly frustrated expression. My previously stripped gears began grinding again. Where was THIS leading?
“Spit roast me.” Shit, I almost came right then. Mom smiled weakly and toppled off to the side, Bob’s cock slipping out with a slurp. As big as he is, I kind of expected a pop, too. Bob stared wide-eyed (there was a lot of that that day) first at Marsha, then at me.
“Sounds like an order to me,” I said, also disengaging Marsha. She rolled over onto all fours with her butt toward me and leaned over, taking Bob’s dick into her mouth. His dick that was still glistening with her mom’s juices. Damn, my dick was just sticking out in the air and again I almost came.
She just had the head in her mouth and her lips were stretching. I repositioned myself and sank into her, not at all slowly this time. She made an “oof” sound around his cock as I bottomed and pushed her forward, forcing his cock deeper. Placing her hand on his exposed shaft, she began pumping it up and down. I knew her tongue was working the head, probably teasing the slit at the end. I pounded hard and fast into her, bringing a grunt, a moan, a squeak (not the bed, her) with each bottoming. Those sounds, those vibrations, were probably working magic on his cock. The way she and he were positioned now, the head of his dick rocked in her mouth rather than drove further in.
On an upstroke of her hand, she let out a “mmm,” mixed with a giggle. That’s the sound she made when my precum flowed onto her tongue, so I figured it was the same with him. By my reckoning, he should be ready to blow. I reached around and my fingers found her clit. When she squealed around his cock, his whole body shuddered. Mrs. D (remember Mrs. D?) was lying beside them idly stroking her slit. With her free hand, she reached over and began pinching his nipples. We’d talked about what “did it” for us in the past, so I knew that sent lightning bolts to his crotch.
He laced his fingers into Marsha’s hair, getting a firm grip on her head. No, that wouldn’t do. “Allow her to pull back if she wants to,” I told him in a gentle but firm voice. He looked at me. His eyes were glazed with lust (first time I’d seen that on a guy), but he nodded and relaxed his grip. Damn, how long had he been holding at the edge of cumming? Marsha began pumping her hips on my cock in time with my thrusting as she increased the stroking of his cock. I was pushing closer and closer to the edge. I locked eyes with Mrs. D. She pulled her finger out of her pussy and sucked it clean before putting it back. Damn! Her daughter was tasting that pussy juice, too, I remembered. Fuck, that put me over.
I grabbed Marsha’s hips and slammed hard and deep into her for one final thrust, just as I realized I was not wearing a condom. Too late. I began pumping blast after blast of semen against her cervix. She screamed as her orgasm hit and those vibrations triggered Bob who blasted her throat just as I was blasting her vagina. We all quaked, jerked, moaned, and cried out for the longest time. As I was coming back down, I noticed Mrs. D shivering. Damn, she’d cum again, too. Remembering the lack of condom, I yanked out. Marsha continued to milk Bob’s cock until nothing more came out, then slowly slipped her lips off it, holding them tight together to not spill a drop. Looking at him, she swallowed and let out a satisfied, “Ahhhh.” He wasn’t even looking, just lying there with his eyes closed.
“Oh, fuck, Marsha. I forgot to put on a rubber.” Mrs. D looked up with momentary concern, then her expression softened.
Marsha chuckled. “I’m on the pill. Mom insisted.” Oh, Mrs. D, I love you.