Chapter 3

Angie did not push the envelope every day. On the contrary, after every escapade, Angie watched her mother, gauging whether she had really been rattled. Angie having caught her mother masturbating was a real blow to Grace and, after that, Angie had remained circumspect for a while. She was acutely aware that her antics might have a cumulative effect -- that one more prank would finally result in a complete meltdown by her mother.

Still, more often than not, in the evening, Grace's panties wound up on the sofa near Angie. After the first episode, each time there had been less and less resistance when Angie confiscated her mother's panties. Angie sometimes mortified her mother by pressing the panties into her face and taking an exaggerated smell. Angie took to hiding the panties behind the sofa cushion before she left the room. At first, she left a bit of the panties exposed to view to reassure her mother. Soon, the panties were pressed out of sight, only to be brought back into full view when Angie returned.

So Grace did not notice when Angie palmed the panties one night on her way out of the family room. She received another kiss when Angie returned to resume her reading.

Some time later, Grace noticed that her panties had a prominent position on the coffee table. Closer inspection revealed the mass of white goo on the panties. Grace shuddered but said nothing. Angie giggled.

Grace and the twins made it home after a particularly long, hot run. They were somewhat winded but all three were enjoying an endorphin rush. After re-hydrating themselves, it was time to take a shower. Grace headed for the bath in her bedroom, knowing that the twins would share the other shower.

Finished with her shower, Grace was back in her bedroom, dressing. The unmistakable sound of a young woman in orgasm rang through the house. Angie was fairly singing her pleasure.

Grace wondered whether Angie had amplified her voice on purpose, or whether Angie had never had an orgasm while her mother was at home. Grace had evidence that Angie pleasured Andy while she was at home -- she had seen it herself.

She thought back to Angie's nocturnal visit. She herself had let loose a loud, if brief, shriek as a result of Angie's ministrations. She was able to hold herself in check on weekend mornings, when she pleasured herself. Jack had always...

Jack.

'Oh, Jack, ' she thought. 'Angie is wearing me down, Jack. I miss you so much!'

Angie put her book down, headed out of the family room. On her way by the recliner, she stopped for a kiss. The kiss she delivered was impish and included lip nibbling and licking. With a giggle, she was off.

When she returned later, she stopped in for another kiss. This time, Grace's mouth was invaded by Angie's tongue, immediately followed by a shot of viscous fluid. Angie quickly pulled away and, with a huge grin, watched her mother's reaction. Surprise was followed by confusion and then utter shock. Angie opened her mouth to reveal the remains of Andy's spend, much of which was now on Grace's tongue. Angie nearly choked as she tried to swallow while she laughed uproariously. After unsuccessfully searching for a place to dispose of the invader, a chagrinned Grace reluctantly swallowed.

For a while after that, Grace would not kiss a returning Angie at all. Her wry smile softened the rebuke. Angie had to begin revealing her empty mouth before kisses -- with Grace's jaw clenched -- were resumed. Angie laughed every time, no matter what her reception was. Over time, Grace forgave -- but she never forgot.

Grace felt the movement in her bed as someone slipped in. As she was spooned from behind, she whispered, "I love you." There was no reply but a hand was rested on her hip. She smelled soap and shampoo. She knew the twins showered together so she could not use the scent to distinguish her visitor. After a moment's thought, she moved the hand from her hip to her face, softly kissing the palm and fingers. It was Angie's hand, she realized, relaxing. She moved it from her face and pressed it into her bare breast. After a moment, she let go. The hand remained in place, inert.

Merely cupping her breast was not enough. Grace brought her own hand back and used it to press Angie's into her breast. She toyed with the back of Angie's hand with her finger and thumb. Angie understood the unspoken request and began to gently caress her mother's breast, tracing the edge of the areola, circling and rubbing the nipple, hefting the weight of the breast, gently squeezing.

Grace found that she had been holding her breath. The sound of her exhale, through her nose, long and slow, was distinctive. Angie was further encouraged. Grace felt her relax the tension in her arm. Grace lay still, enjoying the sensations. She felt the heat beginning to build within her, fired by the thought that she was being caressed by a woman, by her own daughter.

She rolled her shoulder, wordlessly asking for attention. Angie responded with soft kisses along her shoulder and on her neck. Before long, Grace wanted more and she gently rolled her shoulder some more. Angie responded, adding licks and then nips. A shudder ran though Grace's body.

Grace guided Angie's hand slowly down from her breast to her abdomen, above her navel. She slowly brought it back onto her breast and gently caressed the back of Angie's hand. Angie got the message, transferring the motions to Grace's breast. Down again, Grace guided Angie's hand onto her abdomen, back and forth, feather light. She found Angie's index finger with her own and used it to softly trace the contours of her navel. She directed Angie's hand back upwards and then withdrew her own hand.

Angie had not expected the invitation that had been presented to her. She was determined to make the most of the opportunity. She wanted to taste her mother's nectar. She wanted to sample -- to gorge -- directly from the source, but she would settle for as many fingersful as she could get. She did not want her mother to abort the episode until she was a mass of quivering Jell-O, utterly sated.

There was a fine line, she knew, between advancing too quickly and too slowly. She had her own experience with Andy to draw upon. Her dear brother had sometimes oafishly gone too quickly for her magic button. Her mild, loving rebuke would usually yield the opposite result, a timorous and overlong march back to the goal. The key, she decided, was to advance her attack ever ... so ... slowly, but always alert to her mother's reactions. She had to find the space between her mother's fear of the next step and fatigue with the last.

As with the first visitation, Angie knew that her mother's focus was already beyond her breasts. Angie gave the breasts -- especially her nipples -- some attention before commencing the next journey southward. Each circuit began and ended with her nipples. On each trip, Angie moved a bit farther from her mother's breast, a bit further toward her own target. Around and across the navel. Angie could hear her mother's breathing become ragged. Around and below the navel. Squeaks and grunts from Grace became frequent. Along the top of the mons, just above the thatch of kinky hair. Angie could feel the fine sheen of perspiration on her mother's skin. On the next pass, Angie used her fingers to comb through the thatch and gently pull tufts of hair. Grace's body flinched and quaked wherever Angie touched, as though each finger was a live wire. Down, down along the top of her thigh and then back up, so slowly, two digits on each thigh and one trailing softly in between. The finger gently followed the contour between her lips, collecting the copious fluid, until it reached the top. Grace spasmed at the touch. Angie could feel that her mother's clitoris stood proud of its hood and she lubricated it generously with the accumulated fluids.

Angie's finger left the button, headed downward, pressing hard enough to part the engorged lips. Angie's hymen was intact and she had never felt the inside of a woman's body. When she found her mother's entrance, she explored the verge but did not enter. Grace gasped with need and frustration. Angie slowly brought two fingers up along each side of the gash until she was near the top, where she added pressure and dragged the desperate clit between her fingers. Grace went wild.

Angie used the thrashing to throw her mother's leg over her own, opening the juncture of her mother's legs to her ministrations. At the same time, Angie leaned her mother's upper body back against her own and worked her hand behind Grace's neck and around to her breast. Grace's lips were out of the reach of her own but she could kiss and nibble and lick her mother's neck and ear and the side of her face.

Now the party was in full swing and Angie kept her hand on or around her mother's pussy. She worked on the button until she felt the lubrication wane. Down she went, deep in the gash with two fingers until she reached the vagina. She began to press her fingers home, ever so slowly, enjoying her discovery. Grace whined and trembled at the slow torture. Angie drove her fingers as deeply inside as she could reach. A strangled groan escaped from Grace's throat as she thrashed about.

Angie was now in her element. She withdrew her fingers and returned to her mother's clit. She did to her mother all of the things that she herself enjoyed, alternately strumming and pressuring her clit. Angie had the added advantage that her own hymen denied. She probed as deeply inside her mother as she could, in and out with much gusto, before resuming her clit play.

Angie felt her mother's lust skyrocketing. She wanted her mother's crotch in her mouth. She struggled with herself whether to make her move before or after the first orgasm. She decided that the gigantic first orgasm would stupefy her mother, giving her time to change position. She redoubled her efforts to make that first orgasm truly explosive.

And it was. Grace's shriek was cut off as she began to convulse. Angie watched with wonder until she remembered her goal. In a flash, she was between her mother's legs. As the orgasm subsided, she kissed and licked her mother's inner thighs, working her way toward the top. She took a page from her own instructions to her brother, remembering how sensitive she was after an orgasm. She bided her time, waiting for her moment, kissing and gently licking where she knew she would do no harm. She knew the languor that followed a good O. She hoped that her mother would be unable to summon enough energy to object.

Her mother's nectar tasted wonderful! She knew she would want more, and often. She imagined tasting the mixture of Andy's spend with her mother's juices, shuddering with excitement.

She worked intently, systematically, relentlessly toward her mother's release. The second orgasm -- the first under Angie's tongue -- was every bit as good as the first. It wasn't until after the third orgasm that Grace was able to pull pillows under her head so that she could see Angie. The sight of the top half of Angie's face, exactly as in the fantasy Angie had spun, caused Grace to shudder but she smiled beatifically at her daughter. Angie could answer only with her eyes, which sparkled her joy and pleasure.

When the fourth orgasm hit, she could take no more. Grace was able to drag Angie up and onto her, all but squeezing the life out of her and kissing her passionately. Angie was able to slide off and they embraced each other, kisses slowly evolving from passion to deep love and appreciation.

"Thank you," Grace whispered, her eyes full of tears.

"That was incredible, Mom," answered Angie softly between tender kisses. "Don't cry about the best thing that's happened in a long time. I love you very much. You deserve all the love we can give you. You deserve all the lust you can handle."

"I'll try," Grace sighed. "That was wonderful. I needed that more than I knew. Now, would you turn over and let me spoon up behind you?"

Angie turned away. She felt her mother's hand on her hip. She moved it up and pressed it into her own breast. Soon, they were both asleep.

If Angie rolled over during the night, Grace did not notice.

Angie no longer had to say anything. She stood in front of her mother with her hand out. Grace obligingly removed her panties -- none too carefully -- and handed them to Angie. "Have you decided how you want your bush trimmed?"

"I have, actually," Grace smiled back. "I'll tell you what I'm going to want, but I'm not quite ready for the shave yet." She hunched down a bit in her recliner and let her knees fall open as though exposing herself was the most ordinary thing in the world. "All I want left is a strip about this wide," and she bounded the edges with her thumb and finger, "and about this tall."

"Cool!" Angie said, "I think that'll look good. Are you okay with the remaining hair being shorter?"

"Not if 'shorter' means really short!"

"No," Angie chuckled, "I thought it should be cut to just a bit more than the height of a finger -- catch the hair between two fingers and cut off the hair that protrudes."

"That should be okay."

"Let me know when you're ready. Do you want to watch us shave each other now?"

"No, thanks, Angel. You go ahead."

Grace was disappointed on the following night when Angie did not return to her bed. She slept fitfully and woke often. Her bed felt so very empty. During the night, she could not bring herself to go to Angie's bed.

Grace was the only one who closed her bedroom door. On the nights that Angie had visited, she had left Grace's door open. In the morning, there was something sad about seeing that her door remained closed.

Sunday mornings almost always started with a bang, self-inflicted. She knew she was horny. The bout with Angie on Friday night had re-kindled her desire. Those were the first orgasms that she had not given to herself since...

'I owe Angie, ' Grace thought to herself as she languished in her bed. Her mind replayed her most recent tryst with Angie. She loved the taste of herself on Angie's lips and tongue. She realized that she had yet to taste Angie's nectar.

She swept her feet off the bed and onto the floor. She hesitated for a moment in the early morning light, uncertain whether she ought to cover her nakedness. She realized that it had been years since either of the twins awoke at this gawd-awful hour on a Sunday morning, so she stepped over the nightshirt puddled on the floor. She pulled her bedroom door wide open, determined never to close it again.

It was darker in the hallway. Grace made her way down the hall with some care. She halted a step away from three doorways. She knew she was safe -- after a fashion -- in Angie's bed. She knew from experience that Angie would not awake upon the arrival of another in her bed. Her need and her guilt pulled her the other direction. Grace remembered that Angie insisted that Andy slept even more soundly than his sister. 'I'll just look, ' she told herself. She turned and cautiously crept into Andy's room.

He was sprawled on his bed. Grace marveled at his ability to take up so much of the bed, and still be lying partly on his side. Angie had said that she frequently slipped into his bed without disturbing him. She wondered how Angie managed to make room for herself.

As if on cue, Andy rolled toward her. He had managed to briefly tent the sheet on his way from one side to the other. As suddenly as it appeared, it was gone again. Gone from sight, but vivid in Grace's mind's eye. With a shake, she recovered somewhat and was able to take in the entire image of her son. The sheet was drawn up only as high as his navel. Above, she saw the muscles on his chest and arms. Andy was no bodybuilder, and he was still young, but she could see that he was in good shape. He would only become more handsome as he matured, she realized. So much like his dad...

She had to see. She wouldn't dare kneel in front of him. She moved around behind him and, before her courage fled, she tossed the corner of his sheet toward his feet. Alarmed, she knelt beside the bed but he did not react. The other end of the sheet had caught on his elbow. Now, right in front of her, his skin was exposed from his head to his upper thigh. Her eyes traveled the full length and back again, taking in and appreciating every detail. Andy did have a nice butt.

She reached out and cautiously caressed his shoulder. He flinched but did not change position. Grace snatched her hand back. She felt the pounding of her pulse. Her increasingly ragged breath sounded so loud to her. She took a moment to calm and center herself. Her touch had been too light, she decided, and it must have tickled. With trepidation, she placed her hand softly but firmly on his shoulder. There was no reaction.

Experimenting, she dragged her hand to his shoulder blade. No reaction. She trailed her hand up to the base of his neck, a little lighter. No reaction. She slowly caressed her way down the length of his spine. If her caresses were going to tickle, surely this one would. But there was no response. As she approached the small of his back, she struggled with herself where to stop. The coward in her wanted to stop safely on his back, however low. Her horny self wanted to continue on a straight line, along the line between the cheeks of his ass, until she felt his scrotum -- his ball sack her slutty side yelled in her mind.

The warring elements within her silently compromised. Her hand moved across his ass cheek and as far along his outer thigh as she could reach. Her hand stopped briefly before launching its return trip. This time, her hand tarried for a longer caress of his ass. With a gasp, she retracted her hand and sat on her haunches.

Her terror increased each moment. She had to see! She could not bring herself to kneel in front of him, her tits at eye level. With a long, slow exhale meant to calm and center her, she raised herself up. As she leaned over him, her boobs hung down like udders. She shuddered at the thought of Andy seeing her like that.

The sheet remained as it was, its edge running on a line from his elbow to across his thigh. There was a gap at his crotch between his body and the edge of the sheet. When she peered in, there was only enough light to see that his erection stood close to his abdomen. She had to see more! With trepidation, she tossed the lower edge of the sheet, exposing his entire lower body.

There. There it lay, fully exposed. She noticed his hairlessness and shuddered as she remembered the shaving. She remembered watching the sleeping Angie's lips and imagining them surround Andy's cock. Now, it was the crown of his cock in full view as she imagined Angie's lips. And then the lips became her own...

Before she could chide or argue with herself, she reached in and wrapped her hand around his cock. My gawd! It had been so long! Her other hand covered her mouth, smothering a moan. She felt the release of moisture that began to run down her thigh. She gave the cock a quick squeeze before letting go and withdrawing her hand. She did her best to cover Andy with the sheet and then retreated from the room.

She stood in the relative darkness of the hallway, gasping for breath and shaking. She willed herself not to race back to her own room. She willed herself not to touch herself between her legs. My God! She had taken hold of his erection in her hand, and he had not reacted! She could still feel the heat in her hand. She could still feel the hard flesh in her hand. She wanted to go back in there. She wanted to run her hand up and down his shaft, to heft and gently squeeze his balls. She wanted him to roll onto his back, opening himself ... No! She couldn't!