"Mummy don't!" she gasped, pressing hard against the pussy bruising her crotch. "My… my panties are coming off. Don't look. Don't!"
As anticipated, the blue eyes widened and swept down the length of her arched body. The struggle had worked the nylon low on her waist, exposing the silky red curls below her cute belly-button. She watched her mother's expression change, and felt the wide hips between her wide-spread thighs begin a slow, sensuous grind. "You can do it to me if you want," she whispered, tiny fingers searching for the zipper at the seat of the pedal pushers. "We… we can fuck like the girls did me at the home."
"No! I… d-don't talk to Mummy like that."
Wendy fucked her behind round and round off the bed. Opening her pants, she splayed her hands over the huge, trembling buttocks. "I know you want to. I bet you wanted to even before I went away."
"You mustn't. We… I…"
"Shhhhhh…!" It was as if she were the parent, and Mummy, her face all squinched up with shame and desire, were her little girl. But there was nothing little about the soft halves of her bottom. They were like cotton basketballs covered with satin. She found the waistband of the panties, and watched Mummy's mouth drop open as she traced the deep crack.
"Wendy! Wendy! Wendy!" The wide hips bucked uncontrollably when Wendy's slender finger burrowed through hair and sphincter, into her mother's asshole.
"Bull-dyke me, Mummy. Take off your clothes 'n' rub your clit against mine. Hurry, Mummy."
"Don't! Don't call me that."
"What?"
"Mummy! I… call me Cynthia."
She supposed the request had something to do with Mummy feeling guilty about wanting to screw: grown-ups were dumb that way. She'd experienced almost the same thing late one night when nice old Mrs. Hamilton sneaked into her bed naked, and made her hush up when she said "matron". But names weren't important: she knew Mummy was Mummy, no matter what she liked to be called. And the new named was pretty – Cindy! She said it, breaking the syllables, making it sweet. She pushed the pants and panties down the full thighs, clutched her mother's fat ass, and humped and humped her red pussy up off the bed.
"Babylove. Um! Ummm! Ummm!" Cynthia stopped pretending when their pubic hair met. Her hands moved to the girl's waist, then lower down, cupping the small, tender buttocks. Cunt to cunt, she closed her eyes and rubbed.
Wendy too closed her eyes, thinking back to the very first time she'd felt kinky girl-hair down there. It was on the day she arrived at the home, late that same night, while she lay shivering and trying to forget what Doctor Bruce had done to her mouth and belly. She recalled the way the bed shifted as Crazy Inez and four others surrounded her. She felt Mummy's hard clit stabbing between her cunt lips, and remembered how she'd opened her mouth to protest and how one of the girls – she couldn't remember which one – stifled the cry with her hand while the others got her spread-eagled. She remembered the shame, the fear; how she thought for sure she'd die of embarrassment because of the awful things they did; how they talked in excited whispers about her hot, hairy holes, kissing all over down there, fingering her while she lay helpless.
Suddenly Cynthia shifted. She moved low on the bed, until her mouth was on the red wedge of pussy hair and between Wendy's little-girl thighs. Her wet tongue lashed out.
"Ow! Ow!" Wendy clutched at her head, the expert lips taunting her cunthole. For a moment she wondered where her mother had mastered such things. She felt the tongue swirl and dart, lapping greedily. She felt it wash the crack of her ass, and flick into her puckered anus. She felt the hands splayed on her buttocks begin to massage, rubbing the halves of her bottom together, opening and closing the moist holes. It was as if she were being eaten by one of the girls back at the home, as if Mummy herself had done time there, and had learned all the tricks…
"Take off these darn panties. They're in the way." Cynthia knelt. Taking hold of the bothersome undergarment, she yanked downward, tugging the nylon off the girl's trembling legs.
Wendy watched her, raising up to help but recalling what her mother had said earlier about having no shame. She glanced down at her wide-spread legs. She couldn't feel shame any more – not after the year at the home, where she'd been sucked and abused in every way imaginable. Now she could feel only the tiny pink bud in her vulva, the swollen, greedy mouth of her cunt. Her gaze settled on the thick bush between Mummy's thighs, the black contrasting starkly with the creamy white of mature loins. Her breath quickened. Her belly began doing somersaults inside. It was horribly wrong – all of it; she was a good girl, and should indeed feel shame at the mere thought of the doubly perverted incestuous union. Yet she wanted the furry black muff in her face. She wanted to smell Mummy's pussy, drink her cunt juice. It was the hole her daddy had fucked in to make her, and she wanted to know every inch, every luscious fold.
"Take off your clothes too, Mum… Cindy. So… so I can do you."
Mummy paused to stare down at her. Her blue eyes were glazed, hungry. "I… I haven't done anything like this since college," she said in a husky voice. "We… there were three of us who roomed together on campus, and one, Diane, had a clit as big as a little boy's dickie. We only wanted to see, to compare. I was too dumb to know about girls like Di, about lesbian sex. I was still cherry."
Fascinated, Wendy sat up. Her hands helped Mummy undress, moving lovingly over the mature contours, that were flabby in places but nonetheless appealing. "Oh Mummy… I mean Cindy," she whispered. "It… it must've been horrid for you, not knowing and all. Like me. Like when Lew raped me, and then the awful bull-dykes at the home."
"Um!" Cynthia's cunt dripped cream down the inside of her thigh. "I didn't want to at first," she continued, staring off into space as if remembering like Wendy had remembered moments before. "But Judy, the other girl, talked me into getting down there for a look. My clit was so small, and Di's was so big, and Judy's too, that I thought maybe there was something wrong with me! So I looked. I went down while Di lay naked on the bed, legs wide apart. And then Judy – oh, she was a bitch! A dirty slut! Judy fell on my back, rubbing her cunt on my ass and mashing my face into Diane's stinking queer pussy." Her melon tits popped free of the last garment. She offered one of the rubbery brown peaks to Wendy.
Mouthing the nipple that tasted of salt, and was twice as big as the pinkness at the tips of her own breasts, Wendy wrapped her arms around her mother's waist, and sucked her. They knelt together, four trembling hands exploring buttocks and thighs. The girl cooed, thinking how alike they were despite the difference in age and temperament, the black cunthair and the red. She forgave everything now. Her face was raw from the beating, and the blood was beginning to crust at the side of her mouth. But Mummy had suffered the same indignations, the same perversions she'd been subjected to at the home. It formed a bond between them, she thought; a secret tie.
Then she stopped thinking. Because Mummy's hand was cupped at her little red pussy; she was being eased back onto the bed. "Sixty-nine," she breathed, guiding the heavy woman thighs astraddle her face, gasping as the tongue returned to her agitated slit.
"Eat Cindy," gurgled the open mouth, drinking the juice from her cunthole. "Suck Cindy off!"
"Oh, yes. Yes! Yes!!" Using two fingers on each hand, Wendy spread the fat cunt lips, closed her eyes, and began sucking the pussy. She planted her feet on the bedding, lifted her ass, and slapped her cunt into the face that had reprimanded her so sternly mere hours before. Now they were equals: Cindy and Wendy! And there would never again be cause for shame in her life, she felt certain.