Chapter 5: Mother and Daughter’s Teasing Delight

My brother’s plan was naughty.

Mom drove me. She was part of the plan. She was a busty delight, wearing a low-cut blouse today that showed off her tits that were just as big as mine. I took after her. She hummed as she drove us into downtown Sacramento for our hotel tryst with Mrs. Armstrong.

I clutched my new purse on my lap as I squirmed on the passenger seat. A writhe of excitement and nervousness swept through me. There was a lot riding on this. At the minimum, we had to get Mrs. Armstrong to call off the protest of the massage parlor I ran.

But it would better to see Mrs. Armstrong punished for what she did to my lover, her own daughter.

Stefani was hurt by her mother’s rejection. For a time, when we had Mrs. Armstrong blindfolded and an active participant in her “massage,” Stefani imagined mending the relationship with her mother at least. Her parents were hardcore Christians, so to learn Mrs. Armstrong was a closet lesbian, or at least bi, was shocking.

We massaged her. Devoured her. Fucked her with strap-ons. Mrs. Armstrong loved it and still rejected her daughter. She must be full of such hate and self-loathing to turn on her daughter. To try and destroy our massage parlor after we gave her such bliss.

“It’s going to be fine, Zoey,” Mom said, her bleached-blonde hair sweeping around her shoulders. “Okay. Your brother’s plan will work.”

“How much do you know about his plan?” I asked, my hands stroking the purse Lee bought today.

“He’s keeping it close to his vest,” Mom said. “I think he’s having fun. Melody probably knows. And Pam was rushing around the house when I was getting ready, looking just bubbly.”

I nodded. Melody and Pam were the closest to Clint. My brother enjoyed all his sisters, and Mom and our aunt, and I in different ways. We were more like siblings with benefits, enjoying fucking each other, while Melody and Pam were his lovers, Alicia his little girl, and Lee his sex slave. Mom was another sex slave, serving first our father than now our brother.

“He has something more than what we’re doing,” I said. “Right? He wouldn’t have given me this purse if he didn’t plan more.”

Mom shrugged.

She took a turn as we headed through downtown Sacramento. The hotel was ahead. Mrs. Armstrong was waiting for us. Two hours ago, Clint had sent her the security footage from the massage parlor showing the married woman kissing Carmelita, another of the masseuses. It was clear that Mrs. Armstrong was a willing participant. It would ruin her life if that footage came out.

So why did my brother want more?

My fingers slid down the side of the purse, the fabric indenting until I hit the spy camera. I stroked it. You couldn’t tell there was a camera by sight, but it was in there. I shuddered as my heart pounded. I had to be perfect.

Mom and I had to be perfect.

“You ready, honey?” Mom asked as she pulled up to the front of the hotel, a valet sauntering up to our car.

I nodded my head. I pulled out my phone and made sure it was hooked up to the camera via Bluetooth. I could see Mom’s hip in her light-blue dress. My phone was streaming it back to Clint at the massage parlor. I imagined him, Melody, Stefani, Lee, Juana, and Carmelita staring at the computer, watching the fun.

“How’s it coming in?” I asked.

“Looks good,” Clint answered. His voice whispered in my ear. I had a Bluetooth earpiece, another thing Lee bought. It was as small as they came and hidden by my brassy hair. “Picture’s clear.”

“Good,” I said. “We’re here.”

I slipped my phone back into my purse and stepped out of the car. Mom sauntered around. She was still beautiful. Now that I was in my mid-twenties, she was often mistaken for my older sister rather than my mom. She hooked her arm with mine, a big smile on her face.

I shuddered as we headed inside. The doors opened for us. My nerves squirmed. The purse swayed off my shoulder, rubbing against my side. My large breasts bounced in the light and airy dress I wore, sleeveless, a scoop neckline that showed off my lovely breasts, the skirt almost pleated as it swayed around my thighs.

The concierge smiled at us. “We’re friends of Betty Jones,” I purred. “She should have left hotel keys.”

“Of course,” the concierge said, a discrete tone to her voice. Hotels prided themselves on this sort of discretion. I imagine she knew we were having a wild afternoon. What did she think of three women hooking up at a hotel?

Did it make the concierge wet?

She was a cute woman, her black hair sweeping about her shoulders. She looked like the type of woman who needed a massage. If I had my normal purse, I would have handed her one my business cards for the parlor.

“Enjoy your stay,” the concierge said, a throaty tone to her voice.

I winked at her while Mom giggled.

A short elevator ride later, we were heading down the third-floor hallway and arrived at Room 317. I slipped the keycard into the door. The lock whirred, the sound twisting my stomach. The light popped on green above the brass handle.

I opened the door and sauntered in, confident and in control.

“Ooh, this is going to be great,” Lee cheered in my ear. “Make her your slut!”

“Quiet,” Melody hissed in the background.

SMACK!

“Sorry, Mistress,” Lee moaned.

I knew she had a red handprint on her rump.

I couldn’t respond because Mrs. Armstrong was standing before one of the two queen-sized beds. She looked so tense, terrified. She wore her conservative dress, a cream-white hue and adorned with golden designs that swept around her body. It hugged her body even as it showed no cleavage. Her dark-red hair swept about her pale face, her green eyes staring down at her hands. She rubbed them together, her breasts rising and falling.

“Hi,” she said, her voice tight. She looked up and frowned. “You brought your ... mother.”

“Afraid I would have brought your daughter?” I asked, anger burning through me. She made Stefani cry. This bitch made my girlfriend’s heart break. My hands clenched. “She wants nothing to do with you now.”

“That’s fucking right!” Stefani hissed in my ear. “Tell her that I think she’s a big flaming pile of horse shit!”

“I brought my mother to prove something to you,” I said. My mother understood me. She accepted me. She wasn’t a hypocritical bitch that needed to have her eyes clawed out. “So pay attention.”

I set my purse on the entertainment center, right next to the TV, the camera aimed at the bed.

“Looking good,” Clint said in my ear. “I can see the bed. Just keep the fun there.”

This was getting difficult having them talking in my ear while staring at this bitch. Mrs. Armstrong swallowed. She glanced at the bed then back to my mother and me. Mrs. Armstrong’s cheeks grew scarlet, a flush spreading down to her neck.

“So ... you want me to stop the protest?” Mrs. Armstrong asked.

“That’s a given,” I said, my anger boiling my blood. “You’re going to go to them and tell them you overreacted. You’d never had a massage before, and when they started rubbing you, you misunderstood. We’re not a bordello. We don’t offer happy endings.”

“But you do,” she said. “You...” her cheeks blushed. “I went there for that. When I learned about it, when the first time I came for a massage, it was clear that was what you offered.”

I shook my head. “You are disgusting. You know that? You shitted all over Stefani for her relationship with me, and then there you went and cheated on your husband with women.”

Mrs. Armstrong looked down. “I’m weak. I try to fight my sin, but...” She rubbed her hands together. “I will do anything to keep that footage out. I will stop the protest. I’ll tell them I misunderstood. Okay. I promise. Just don’t share that video. Is that enough? Do I have to apologize to my daughter?”

“She won’t accept it,” I said.

“Fucking right I won’t!” Stefani hissed. “Really give it to her.”

“She wants nothing to do with you. She hates you,” I growled. “I don’t blame her. What type of mother says those things to her own daughter? You hated her for the very thing you were. Why are you such a terrible person? Some fucking Christian you are. You’re full of hate. Bile.”

Mrs. Armstrong swallowed, her cheeks pale.

“If I had a daughter, I would never do that to her!” I continued, my anger flaring. “I would never make her feel like I hated her. Despised her. I would give her what she wants: love! I would support her. Accept her. I wouldn’t sneer at her. I wouldn’t eat her pussy out and then pretend I hated the taste of her. I wouldn’t cum on her mouth and pretend it wasn’t some of the best sex in my life.”

“You tricked me,” Mrs. Armstrong said as she hunched her shoulders. “I didn’t know it was you and Stefani. I’m not into...”

“Incest?” I asked. My smile grew. “You feasted on your daughter with delight. Don’t pretend that you didn’t love what your daughter and I did to you.”

Mrs. Armstrong didn’t answer, her cheeks blushed, her nipples hard.

“Yeah, you’re wet right now. Fucking hypocrite. You want Stefani here eating your pussy again, don’t you?”

She didn’t answer, her right hand rubbing against her left arm.

“You need to get her to agree to come back to the massage parlor,” Clint said.

I drew in a breath. Right. “Not only are you going to stop the protest, but once a week, every Saturday morning, you’re also going to show up at the massage parlor for a massage. Not with Stefani or me. You can have Carmelita give you all the massages you want.”

“What?” she blinked, her body shuddering.

“You can come in the back way to hide your presence,” I said, “but you will do it. You will pay us full price. You can have sex with Carmelita if you want. We just want you there, giving us money, making up for the business you cost us.”

She bit her lip. “And if I don’t?”

“That footage of you and Carmelita isn’t going anywhere,” I said. “We have it. We can release it at any time. You don’t show up, you better be in the hospital dying.”

Mrs. Armstrong nodded. Her dark-red hair flowed about her face. She looked much like Stefani. I could see my friend’s features in her. It was subtle. In the cheekbones and eyes, a hint in the nose and lips. But the differences were there, too. A pointier chin, higher forehead, and a rounder jawline.

“So that’s it?” Mrs. Armstrong asked. “Anything else?”

“You’re going to watch as I make love to my mother,” I purred. “You’re going to watch until your so horny you can’t resist joining us. No touching your pussy. No masturbating. If either of us sees you so much as grope your tits, we’re going to release the tape.”

“Perfect,” Clint said in my ear. “Just remember, don’t call our mother ‘Mom’ once you start making love to her.”

“Do you understand?” I asked, staring at Mrs. Armstrong.

“You think I’ll ... join in?” she asked.

“I know you will. You’re a fucking dyke-slut with a horny pussy.” I shuddered. “Your cunt is on fire. I can see the signs. You think it’s hot my mother and I are about to make love. You’re getting off on incest. I bet you’ve been thinking about eating Stefani nonstop.”

“Mmm, I’m going to lick every bit of my daughter’s body,” Mom moaned. “I’m going to worship her.”

“Ooh, this is hot, Yunie,” Stefani said in my ear, using her pet name for me.

“So hot,” Melody purred.

Mom hugged me from behind, her hands sliding up to grope my breasts through my dress. I didn’t have a bra on beneath. Mom squeezed and kneaded into my big boobs. I shuddered. My nipples ached and throbbed, my pussy growing hotter.

“I’m going to lick every inch of my daughter’s body,” purred Mom, the incestuous rush shooting through me. “You ready to see the fun begin?”

Mrs. Armstrong just swallowed, her hands clasped tight before her stomach.

“Say it,” Mom said. “Tell us to make love, or that video gets released.”

“Cheryl,” Mrs. Armstrong said to my mother, “I ... I want to watch you make love to your daughter. Please ... please start the fun.”

I shuddered in delight. This was amazing. I didn’t know what Clint would do with this footage. I couldn’t wait to find out. I would enjoy every bit of it.

Mom’s lips kissed at my neck. She nibbled on me. My tongue licked across my skin. My body shuddered. Mom squeezed my breasts, her body pressed tight against me. Her lips nibbled up to my neck to my ear. She caressed my earlobe.

I whimpered. It was incredible. She kneaded me. She groped me as she guided me to the bed. I didn’t fight her, swaying with her. It was a delight to experience. My brassy hair danced about my shoulders. Her fingers dug into my flesh.

She pushed me down on the bed. I groaned as the mattress creaked beneath me. I rolled over on my back, my breasts jiggling. My thighs rubbed together. This wonderful heat swept through my body. My nipples ached as Mom followed me down with hunger in her dark eyes.

Our lips melted together.

The incestuous rush shot through me as my mother pressed her busty body on mine. Our mouths worked together, loving each other while the camera and Mrs. Armstrong watched us. I shuddered, my cunt burned. Our tongues danced together. It was this amazing delight. Our hips ground against each other.

My hands slid up her back, finding the zipper to her dress. I drew it down as she groped my breasts through my dress. My pussy clenched as the heat rushed through me. My thighs rubbed together, my clit throbbing, juices flowing.

Mom broke the kiss, rising. She panted, slipping her arms out her dress sleeves. I pulled it down, exposing her large breasts. She didn’t wear a bra. She had a tattoo on her left breast, a triangle with the letters C, C, and V in each point. One C, at the top of the triangle, for my father Clint. The other C for my mother, Cheryl, and the V for my Aunt Vicky. It was a symbol of my mother’s submission to my father.

Since his passing, my brother had taken over dominating them, giving the two women what they craved.

My hands grabbed her breasts. I squeezed them, loving them. These were the big boobs I nursed from as a baby. I sat up and latched onto her nipple. I sucked on it. My lips sealed around it. Her nub felt amazing in my mouth. Fat and hot and delicious. I sucked hard on it as Mom moaned, her hands running through my brassy hair.

Mrs. Armstrong whimpered as she watched.

“Damn, this is hot,” Melody purred. “Clint’s got Lee sucking on his cock. Carmelita is eating Juana’s pussy. Ooh, this is delicious.”

I shuddered, glad my family and friends were enjoying the sight. So was Mrs. Armstrong. I nibbled on my mother’s nub, loving it. Her hands slid down to the shoulders of my dress. She reached behind me and unzipped the back of my dress. I sucked hard on that nub. My cheeks hollowed as I loved her.

Mom’s hands caressed my back. Her fingernails swiped up and down me. I shuddered as she pulled my dress down my body, slipping it off my shoulders. My breasts jiggled as they came free. My bare nipples rubbed against her belly as my dress bunched around my waist.

“Mmm, I’m going to lick every inch of you, Zoey,” purred my Mom.

“Enjoy it, Yunie!” Stefani moaned. “Oh, damn, this is hot. Melody! Let’s finger each other!”

“Yes!” my half-sister moaned.

Mom pushed me down, my mouth popping off her nipple. I could hear my lover and sister pleasing each other, my brother groaning as Lee blew him. Their passion echoed in my ear as Mom pushed me down onto the bed. My breasts pillowed into two lovely mounds.

I shuddered as Mom grabbed my tits. She kneaded them. Her fingers dug into me. I groaned as my hands thrust my dress off my hips. I squirmed as Mom’s fingers slid up my breasts, almost kneading them. I groaned, my heart pounding in my chest as I slid off my skirt. I kicked it to the floor as Mom leaned down.

She sucked on my nub. Her lips latched onto my nipple. I shuddered as this pleasure rippled through me. I whimpered and groaned. My eyes squeezed shut as she nursed on me. My pussy clenched. My thighs rubbed together. My clit throbbed as my mother loved me.

“Oh, damn,” I moaned, wanting to call her Mom. “Ooh, yes, yes, that’s it. You like the show, don’t you, Mrs. Armstrong?”

“I...” The woman shuddered. She bit her lip.

“Yeah, you love it,” I groaned as Mom’s tongue fluttered around my areola. This treat shot through me.

Mom’s tongue darted around my breast. Her hands squeezed my tits. She loved me. Her breasts rubbed into my stomach. I shuddered as her nipples caressed my belly. Heat rushed through my body. My thighs locked around her torso, grinding my shaved snatch against her abdomen.

The pleasure rippled through me. This wonderful delight. Mom moaned. Her tongue licked across my breast. She dipped into the valley between my tits. Her mouth smooched and kissed. She nibbled across to my other tit, climbing it, my left nipple aching in anticipation.

“Oh, yes, yes,” I groaned. “You love watching us, Mrs. Armstrong. You just want to join the fun. You’re a naughty dyke-slut, aren’t you?”

Mrs. Armstrong just moaned.

“Ooh, you’ll say it!” I moaned. “You’ll admit to what you are.”

“Yes,” Stefani hissed in my ear. “Make that bitch suffer! Make her dive into your cunt and feast upon your twat.”

“Yes!” I moaned to my lover. “Oh, I will do that.”

Mom glanced up at me, her eyes sparkling. Her bleached, blonde hair fell about her face. Then she grinned and sucked on my nipple. I gasped and shuddered. My back arched. Her breasts rubbed into my stomach as she sucked on my nub. Her hands squeezed my tits.

I groaned as she nibbled on my nipple. My squirmed and humped against her, the camera rolling, that bitch watched me. I ground my cunt into her stomach. Her dress rustled about her waist as she loved me. She moaned about my nipple. That humming delight stimulated me.

“Ooh, I bet you wish you were sucking on my nipple, Mrs. Armstrong,” I moaned. “I know how much you loved eating my cunt.”

Mom popped her mouth off my breast. She turned, looking at the MILF. “Yes, Ruth. How much did you love eating her pussy? I bet you savored it. Do you want to eat mine?”

Mrs. Armstrong groaned, her hands clutched tight, her knuckles white.

I smiled as Mom rose. She pushed her skirt off her hips, exposing her rump. She wiggled her hips and her dress fell down to her knees. She worked the cotton fabric past her legs, shifting, her big boobs dancing while Mrs. Armstrong’s green eyes watched with smoldering heat.

Mom threw her skirt to the side. She wasn’t wearing panties beneath her skirt. She had a black bush, showing off her true hair color. It was a delicious sight, her pubic hair wild and naughty. Clint wouldn’t let her shave it.

“Don’t you want to eat this cunt?” Mom asked as she bent over me, shaking her rump at the married MILF. “Come on, Ruth. If I had any idea you were a carpet muncher, I would have been enjoying you for years.”

Mrs. Armstrong moaned. She licked her lips. Her hands crept up to her boobs.

“I’d watch where you touch yourself,” I purred. “Those hands are getting close to your boobies.”

“Oohs, show us those titties,” Mom groaned, her body shaking. Her swaying breasts swung over my tits. Her nipples brushed across mine. Nipples sparked. This treat shot through me. My cunt clenched each time. “Come on, Ruth. Get naked. We know you’re a horny dyke.”

“Just a pussy-licking slut,” I moaned. “You ate me with such passion.”

“That cunt ate me like she was a pro!” hissed Stefani. “Ooh, Melody, that’s nice. Right there. Get your finger in me right there.”

I shuddered at the fun I heard in my ear. Mom pressed her tits into mine as we watched Mrs. Armstrong reach behind her. The married woman’s cheeks burned. The flush melted down her throat. Her breasts pressed against me. My nipples ached as hers kissed mine.

Mrs. Armstrong unzipped her dress. She slipped her dress off her shoulder. The MILF worked it off of her. She swallowed, her hands pressing her dress down her shoulders. Her breasts jiggled, her white bra cradling her breasts, nipples poking at it.

“That’s it,” I purred as her dress fell down around her thighs, her panties the same boring white. “Take it all off. Mmm, you have such a sexy body. I had fun playing with it. You purred like a kitty cat stroked by her mistress when I fucked you with the vibrator.”

“Show us those lovely tits,” moaned Mom, her bush pressing into my cunt. I shuddered. Her silky bush stroked the shaved folds of my pussy. This pleasure shot through me. “Let’s see them, Ruth. You know you want us to love them.”

“Get naked right now, you fucking dyke!” I moaned. “Strip it off. Stop pretending to be embarrassed. You’re a lezzie slut! My pussy-eating whore!”

Mrs. Armstrong moaned. Her hands shoved down her panties. Her breasts jiggled in her bra as she rolled her panties down her thighs. Mrs. Armstrong’s bush was a lighter red than her hair. Her juices stained her. She stepped out of her panties, her breath quickening. Her hands slid up her thighs, caressing her flesh.