Dear Internet, From Cow Tits!

by Amanda Serve

Copyright© 2015 by Amanda Serve

Erotic Sex Story: This is a letter from Wendy Taylor written to the "Internet" (and more specifically to the loyal fans of Family Feud who followed her story). It is something of an epilogue - and a clarification from the version of the story you know.

Caution: This Erotic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including ft/ft   BiSexual   Slut Wife   Incest   Mother   Daughter   Light Bond   Humiliation   .

Dear Internet,

It has come to my attention that our former neighbor, Mort Goldstein, wrote a very sordid and detailed account of events from our life. Mister Goldstein lived next to our home in Cherry Lawn Estates and while much of his writing was pieced together from emails, journals, overheard conversations and text messages – there were quite a few embellishments, exaggerations, and inaccuracies.

They say there are always "two sides' to a story" but in our case there is probably a side for everyone that was involved. In some cases, I think Mort did his best to present a fair and accurate portrayal of what he termed "A Family Feud".

In my humble opinion, it was never a "Family Feud" but really an opportunity for our family to discover our dysfunctions, shortcomings, and inhibitions, learn and grow with them, and learn how to pull together in tough times.

I have read the four "books" of his story extensively – aloud at times while standing at attention in our living room once my husband discovered their existence.

FAMILY FEUD ONE – THE REAL STORY!

The author seems overly dramatic by calling this a 'prequel'. He apparently rewrote this story into what he lovingly called a 'blue-ray edition' that he felt covered many of the details he missed the first time he wrote the story.

He recounts how my daughter and I met and decided to confront my husband and son for being lazy and not taking care of themselves. That is absolutely true! We laid down the law and thought we were really being clever by writing up a "Declaration" of rules we wanted the guys to have to follow.

It was mostly tongue in cheek and we didn't really expect it to be anything more than a wake-up call. One thing was said and then another – and after several misunderstandings the men both moved out in a huff.

What Mort fails to tell you is that I was hyper-critical of them and essentially drove them away – slamming the door. I chuckled to myself that they would be back after a few hours of driving around angry and then they would have to eat crow. I thought I could make my husband do a few jumping jacks and eat healthy because, from my perspective, he sat around all day feeling sorry for himself, talking about sports on the internet, and jerking off to internet pornography and he might as well do SOMETHING productive with his time.

My husband is definitely stubborn and instead of coming back – they moved into a dirty old motel on the other side of town where they ran up a huge debt and lost all of the stuff they took with them – including Bill's precious high school football memorabilia.

I was well aware he didn't have this stuff when he got home – and was happy it was no longer taking up space in the garage! I loaded up our credit cards shopping without a hint of guilt for Jamie and I – gleeful that Bill wasn't home to tell me not to spend so much.

When Bill and Chris finally did come home they were so ready to eat crow that they willingly submitted to anything I wanted. I quickly took my joke too far and not only pushed them to eat right and exercise but I started to emasculate them. I made them do all the house work and one day when Chris was talking to his father I came in and yelled "You are like two lazy hens! If I don't come in here and spank your asses every five minutes you sneak off to look at porn! I should make you work in the nude so I can tell when you popped a boner!"

I was teasing them because I knew Chris had just come back from looking at his computer and I know what he used it for – the semen filled socks around his office chair was kind of a big clue.

I didn't expect them to take me seriously! Chris expected me to give him a spanking and I did! I laughed the entire time and I spanked his fat ass as hard as I could.

Bill folded his arm and played the silent tough guy. I told him that he had better drop his drawers and if his son could take it – so could he!

I didn't expect Bill to actually do it – but he did!

It only took a few days before, drunk with power, I was ordering them to do the most humiliating things I could think of and getting off on it. I didn't feel guilty or wicked or even dirty!

Bill and I hadn't had the most electric sex-life but I found, once he was well behaved around the house, that he could be very enthusiastic about eating me out and I took full advantage of that! The story Mort wrote never mentions my making my husband spend hours munching every bit of my hair muff. I didn't care how musky or how hairy it was – he had to EAT or he didn't EAT supper.

I whipped them with belts, I spanked their asses, I slapped their cocks and called them "little pee-pees" while emasculating them, and I encouraged Jamie to do the same. She laughed at me and refused to go along with it.

I convinced her it would be fun and soon my teenage daughter was parading her older brother around all her friends and making him the butt of all their jokes!

We ran the guys through the ringer!

At the end of Family Feud, Mort has this fantasy for this very evil girl named Cathy Griffin. He was convinced they orchestrated a car accident and blackmailed us.

My daughter had thrown a wild party at our house –without my permission! She bought alcohol with her father's credit card and invited over tons of kids. She knew she could get away with it because we were now the Queens of the house and her father was going to have to bartend in a skimpy French maid costume she'd picked out for him.

There were several girls at school who TOLD him that my husband had got on Craigslist and ran a "Need Models" scam. They actually showed up as a dare to each other and posed for him. He was paying something like twenty dollars TOTAL for a session – they pretended that was good money and stroked his ego, but were secretly laughing at him.

They had planned on confronting him and making his night a living hell. Cathy Griffin was definitely in on the joke but she actually put a stop to it.

Mort has a delicious imagination and I will grant him that. The truth is that Cathy confronted us and her 'blackmail' was that she would tell on us unless we let the guys have some payback.

I would say that while Cathy did kind of blackmail Jamie and I – she really did make us see reason. You might call it manipulating us – but Jamie and I both realized we had been devilish, greedy bitches, who owed the men some payback.

FAMILY FEUD II

We swallowed our medicine and agreed to let the men get even by bossing us around. We were game to exercise, eat right, and clean the house – we already had been doing that with the exception of the month or so that the guys waited on us hand and foot.

They knew that would be too easy for us - and to be good sports we agreed to let them have some fun at our expense. I DID make stipulations when Bill first proposed this that no one at work or our neighbors find out, no permanent marks or bruises, and no sex in front of the kids.

Bill quickly pointed out I had been allowing Mort to watch the guys masturbate each other and pretending he wasn't obviously in the window fapping his little cock furiously to it. He also pointed out I had also let Mort watch him go down on me – several times and frankly, I had gotten off on that.

Mort has always been a bit of a boob watcher and I think he has been infatuated with us since we moved in several years ago. He wrote that I looked like a Jeniffer Aniston type with big, fake tits. I am definitely flattered but wouldn't say I was perfect.

My daughter has always been a healthy, gorgeous, beautiful blonde with blue eyes and I had to teach her at an early age that men like to stare and not to pay attention. She was used to his attentions and it didn't bother her either.

Bill insisted we let Mort watch. There was a part of the story where we try to blow another neighbor's mind (Mrs. Waxerman) and tell her outrageous things and let her see us doing outrageous things. It was sort of like a game of "Jenga" where we keep adding impossible stories and seeing how outrageous our behavior was, until she finally wouldn't buy it any longer.

Mort didn't mention the many, many, times we played that game with him. He pointed out rightly that my daughter and I spent a great deal of time outside in the backyard tied up in our fenced in yard. He failed to mention the many times we talked to him through the fence and pretended to be sunbathing, knowing full-well he knew we were bound and tied.

He also didn't mention the many times my husband invited him over and pretended it was very normal for my daughter and I to be eating off the floor like dogs while offering Mort some coffee and talking to him about his taxes from the previous year.

We would mewl around on the floor and purr – while brushing up against his leg and tease him in order to see who could make the poor, timid man strike a boner and suddenly claim he had to be somewhere – anywhere else.

The first few weeks of our time as the guy's slaves were actually kind of fun and interesting. I found that secretly I enjoyed having the men take charge and they seemed so confident and forceful. The sex with Bill had become very adventurous and exciting, and submitting to him seemed like the mid-life change that I really needed in our marriage.

I found that being a bitch and always being in charge had been a let-down. There was something very primal about letting go of that and trusting Bill and my son to make decisions for me. It seemed the price for that elated feeling was harsh discipline, humiliation, and eating my pride – a price I willingly chose to pay.

There were times Jamie and I wanted to stop – definitely! Bill and Chris came up with a number of absurd little games and methods to keep score of how well we did. They were supposed to motivate us in different ways, but most of their ideas were complicated and poorly thought out – as submissives we weren't in much position to argue though.

We found that what actually motivated us to continue was Bill's use of affirmation training. He would make us squat or sit in a way to get our attention and then ask us questions. These were questions about our shortcomings, failings, lives, and the more painfully revealing they became –the more we learned about each other.

Bill and Chris kept the discipline going 24/7 without a break – even at school and work. We were probably 21 days into the first month when it started to feel like a habit – like we had ALWAYS lived this way.

The conditioning and disciplining was tempered with love and restraint. They were cruel and harsh and they took away the privileges we had taken for granted, but every step of the way they communicated with us about it and made us accept that this was how it had to be.

I think they were also venting and complaining about how harsh we had been the month we had been in charge, but it constantly reinforced the necessity of the payback. It also made it easy for us to accept we had to serve them.

Chris did rent out his sister to his friends – nerds and lonely boys who would never get to date a cheerleader normally. She went on the date with them and let them see a little flash of her tits and ass, and listened intently to them talk about Star Wars, and fail at flirting with her.

The story does NOT mention that Bill had me come downstairs afterwards and disrobe in front of them after Jamie was put away for the night. It fails to mention that Bill would pretend he was mad at me and say, "Since you raised a slut of a daughter – you should just go ahead and suck that boys cock! Look how she teased him! He deserves some relief."

I would willingly agree and suck their often massive nerd-cocks and slurp the cum right in front of my husband. I did this at first to shock Bill and make him jealous that I would actually do it. It turned out to be a huge fantasy fulfilled for him and for me as well – and we did it even to pizza delivery boys and neighbors that had nothing to do with this.

Never to Mort Goldstein though.

FAMILY FEUD III

I had found it increasingly difficult to continue my job as a Senior Vice President at a major firm because Bill INSISTED I wear slutty outfits in public that revealed my nipples.

My son had found a supply of estrogen-based lactation inducing birth control and the side-effect was that our nipples elongated and eventually we both started giving milk. That is after HOURS of rubbing, stroking, and tugging them; and where the nickname "Cow tits" actually came from.

I have a tattoo on my hip now that says my name and rarely answer to Wendy any longer.

There is a part in this story where a guy named "Big Mike" gives us both tattoos. These tattoos say "WH" on the left cheek and "RE" on the right cheek and there is a big round red O around our assholes.

I have been seriously criticized for marking up my body this way – and often laughed at or mocked. I don't mind though and whenever my husband tells me to show someone what I am – I know that I 'll be flipping up my skirt, bending over and showing him my tattoo proudly.

The story fails to mention that I sucked Big Mike's cock right in front of my son and everyone else at the county fair. I had by this time become turned on by public humiliation but I didn't want to admit it. I hemmed and hawed and protested, but Bill knew and when he told me to suck his dick as payment – I bent over and throated him with the cock sucking skills I had developed through the sexual training of practicing with dildos every day for a month.

A security guard Mort calls "Uncle Creepy" showed up when some people complained and followed us all night. I sucked him off as well and Bill turned me out to a number of men in the parking lot.

We were also "volunteered" in a section of the fair that was a pseudo Renne-Faire where they had a pillory. They threw tomatoes at people who were kind enough to volunteer and when no one did – the stall workers would volunteer.

Bill and Chris sent us both to work the pillory and he also made me sexually service anyone and everyone who wore tights or dressed like a "merry man" in that part of the fair. I had so much cum in my face and hair that it looked like cotton candy.

We did spend a good portion of our time dancing around as "Spongeboob SquareTits" and "Sandy Buttcheeks" and I think it was then that my daughter started to really develop the same thrill for being naked in public. She danced around, shook her tits, and flirted with boys from her school that happened to recognize her.

I was very proud but too afraid to tell her I was getting turned on by it as well. I thought I was supposed to act like the stick in the mud mother and pretend to wish we didn't have to shake our asses for strangers – but deep down inside I loved it; and I loved that she did too.

FAMILY FEUD IV

It wasn't long before we lost our house – in part because I lost my job and had spent wildly when I was in charge of the house. I think I did it in a self-destructive manner and we ended up at the very same motel that the guys had to live in when they moved out.

I will admit that when I first started walking the street as a whore I seriously questioned what I was doing and had serious misgivings about letting my daughter do it. I was definitely going to quit and tell the guys we did our month a long time ago and this was it!!

However, when they made "bets" with us where we could lose and have to continue serving – I subconsciously accepted those bets and lost. I found it much easier to tell myself that since I lost the bet – I would need to continue discipline. If I could continue the harsh but loving discipline I was receiving – I could be motivated to accept life as a whore.

It was an interesting, self-affirming cycle. I would get up every day and how I walked, talked, dressed, ate, and behaved was submissive. The guys judged me, inspected me, scolded me and kept me in line; and when they did – I found it was very easy to accept that I simply had to be their whore.

Mort would drive by and slow down to watch me walking down the street. I would smile as I recognized his car. He even rented or borrowed someone else's car, as if he could fool me, but I would always recognize his bright-red curly afro and goofy glasses as he tried to act like a stranger.

I would have let Mort pay for sex, or even watch me fuck a stranger. I think he even pulled up next to a car I was in and watched until the trick saw him and scared him off. I told the trick that he was my pimp and went back to fucking him.

Mort's version of the story left out several gang-bangs, including one at a fire station when my daughter and I both fucked and sucked every fireman at least once before we left there.

The final chapter of the Family Feud IV story completely baffles me. He just completely made up the story about Bill meeting his high school nemesis and what happened – in part because we moved away to Indiana.

I think it was based on rumors and his trying to find us through our Internet accounts. My husband had put out several Backpage.com ads and pictures of us still show up on various porn sites, where mother/daughter sluts are shown. I take offense to the header "Bad Parenting" when it's applied to those pictures – I think it takes very GOOD parenting to be that open with your kids.

We live a very healthy, submissive lifestyle now in Indiana. There was a time when the guys forgave us fully for what we had done to them and released us from our obligation to continue to serve. Bill found a good job and my son started college – but I couldn't quite get used to the freedom again.

I would come to the refrigerator wearing just a tank top and be overwhelmed by the choices. There was no one to choose for me, or even tell me it was not meal time and I shouldn't snack, and a part of me missed having my diet tightly watched and controlled.

I would wear heavy necklaces and tell myself they were NOT substitutes for the collar, but when I saw Jamie wearing one on her way to high school I knew that she felt the same way.

I will never forget what I said to her, "You aren't going to school dressed like THAT!" I screeched like every mother from the dawn of time.

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