Lana.
Looked lovely.
Naked.
On my bed.
Straddling her mother’s face.
Like all tall, lean girls …
With big breasts …
She looked even better.
From the side.
And the way she was …
Grinding her pussy.
Into her mother’s face.
Made those tits.
Jiggle.
In a most marvelous way.
Lean Lana …
Leaned back.
Grabbing the chain.
That connected the clamps …
On her mother’s nipples.
Laughed.
Tugged the chain.
Laughed again.
Scooted up.
A bit.
Positioning her ass.
Over her mother’s mouth.
A few second later …
I watched.
Enraptured.
As she giggled.
And bounced.
And those big tits.
Wiggled.
And bounced.
As her asshole was filled.
My her mother.
Her mother’s tongue.
Her mother’s …
Obedient.
Tongue.
She grabs a handful of my hair.
Jerks my head up.
Says …
“I’m not ready to cum yet.”
Slaps me.
“Do it right, cunt.”
… she says.
I feel so ashamed.
Worthless.
I bury my face …
Back in her pussy.
Her beautiful.
Wonderful.
Flawless.
Pussy.
With my face buried …
There …
In heaven …
She cannot see my tears.
I’m glad.
She shouldn’t be bothered.
With my feelings.
I don’t matter.
Except for what I can do for her.
My Kym.
My strong, perfect goddess.
She wants me to take her …
To the edge of orgasm.
And keep her there.
Until she is ready.
She won’t tell me when she’s ready.
I must know.
On my own.
I must learn.
I must.
I must I must I must I must.
Because …
There are other girls out there.
Kym can have any girl she wants.
Oh god!
I can’t mess up my chance.
I can’t.
I can’t I can’t I can’t.
“What’s her name?”
“What?”
“What’s. Her. Name.”
“Whose name?”
“Don’t fuck with me, bitch.”
“I … I don’t understand what …”
“Your girlfriend, you bitch.”
“Who?”
“Your girlfriend. What’s her name?”
“But … you. You’re my girlfriend.”
“Oh really?
“Of course!”
“Then who was that whore I saw you with?”
“What? When did you …”
“Outside the library. I saw you talking … laughing … with another girl.”
“Oh. That was … Oh no! You don’t … No. No. It’s not what you think!”
“Are you fucking her?”
“Please! Please believe me. I would …”
“ARE YOU FUCKING HER?!! ARE YOU FUCKING THAT WHORE?!!”
“Oh god.”
“On your knees.”
“Please!”
“BITCH! ON YOUR KNEES!”
“Please don’t hurt me.”
“Don’t lie to me. Did you eat her pussy?”
“No! I swear! She’s … I just met her. There at the library.”
“Unzip my jeans.”
“OK. Yes.”
“Pull ‘em down.”
“Yes. Anything you want.”
“You see that pussy?”
“Of course.”
“Don’t smart me, bitch. I’ll get my belt.”
“Oh god. I’m sorry. Yes. I see it.”
“That pussy is your world. Understand?”
“Yes.”
“You sleep, study, go to class and take care of that pussy. That’s it.”
“Yes. That’s … that’s … it. That’s all.”
“So you don’t have no time for chatting up some bitch. At the library or anywhere.”
“I understand. I won’t do it again.”
“Now. Get your ass on the bed. I’m going to face-fuck you so long you’ll feel like you’re drowning.”
“Oh.”
I love writing these jealous girlfriend dialogues. When I was younger I used to hit on women I knew were in relationships just to get them in trouble.
I do something special.
With the mothers only.
Early in my relationship with a mother and a daughter.
I have the mother over.
For a day.
A whole day.
A day into night.
A day of bonding.
Her pussy.
My riding crop.
Just the mothers.
Because they have a life experience.
The daughters are to young to have anything interesting to say.
But the mothers …
Have a lot to tell me.
And they do.
As I whip their pussies …
… all day long, remember …
They tell me everything.
Their sins.
Their fantasies.
Their disappointments.
This …
Painful.
Humiliating.
Experience.
Makes some mothers stronger.
They find an inner strength.
I like that.
It breaks others.
Turning them into little more than …
Sniveling, pathetic slave-bait.
I like that, too.
That much pussy whipping …
It changes a woman.
It strips her of what she tried to be.
Pretended to be.
Hoped to be.
It exposes what she truly is.
At the end …
And this is usually 2 or 3 in the morning …
The mother kneels before me.
Pussy throbbing.
Mind reeling.
I tell her to thank me.
She sobs a while.
But eventually says, “Thank you, Mrs. Kort.”
And I say, “You’re welcome.”
Imagine how I felt.
Standing there.
Naked.
In the middle of the room.
The daughter.
Kneeling before me.
Tongue …
In my pussy.
The mother.
Kneeling behind me.
Tongue …
In my ass.
Both.
Understanding.
The consequences.
If I wasn’t …
Pleasured.
Properly.
Imagine how I felt.
If you can’t.
I’ll tell you.
I felt like cumming.
So I did.
Imagine that.
We reached that point.
In a spanking.
Where every blow.
Really stung.
Erika.
Naked. Face down on my bed …
Squirmed.
I felt her ass.
Ablaze.
I felt her pussy.
Soaked.
She liked it …
At first.
But now …
Well, this wasn’t meant to be sensual.
She had already had plenty of.
Sensual moments.
Firsts.
Like …
Her first taste of pussy.
The first female tongue in her own pussy.
The first tongue of any sort in her asshole.
A pussy shaving that was both …
Playful.
And erotic.
Her first strap-on fucking.
But playtime was over.
She was learning.
That we were lovers …
Only up to a point.
And I was making that point.
With each.
Stinging blow.
I loved the way …
Her mouth hung open.
Here’s a tip.
If you want to seduce and turn …
A straight teenager.
Show her your tits.
At that age …
They still …
Strongly feel the tug.
I had just removed my blouse.
Shook out my hair.
I had chosen a very special bra.
For this moment.
For her.
Erika.
It was black.
Of course.
Lacy and low-cut.
I released the front clasp.
It was three months earlier …
When I had first spotted Erika at the college.
Honed in.
Befriended her.
Pretended interest in her young life.
Asked about …
Her mother.
Sophia.
Now …
Erika sat entranced.
As I slowly.
Removed my bra.
I would not lie.
Not to you.
My outlaw sisters.
Eighteen-year-old girls.
Are drawn to tits.
Don’t forget that.
My outlaw sisters.
Use it.
My wicked ones.
I kissed her.
Guided her.
Felt her tongue.
On my nipple.
Whispered …
Something nasty.
Unbuttoned her jeans.
It.
Was there.
And …
There.
It was.
Her daughter’s pussy.
Shaved.
By me.
Exposed.
By her.
Her daughter stood.
Trembling.
Crying.
Hugging herself.
She knelt.
Trembling.
Crying.
Squeezing the panties.
She had just taken off her daughter.
It.
Was here.
And …
Here.
It was.
Her moment of decision.
Demanded.
By me.
She would lick.
Or she would leave.
I held my breath.
I love this moment.
The torment.
The shame.
The desire.
That overwhelms.
Ahh.
Like so many of the mothers …
That were …
Where she was now.
That I put …
Where she was now.
Like so many of them …
She kissed it.
First.
A small peck.
So many.
Do that.
It’s kind of sweet.
Tender.
Almost.
She screamed.
Dug her fingers …
Into the back of her daughter’s thighs.
Buried her face.
There.
Licked.
It.
Made the worst decision of her life.
My heart soared.
Like a vulture.
“It’s wet,” she said.
She slid her finger in deeper.
“Very wet.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
I apologize a lot.
When I’m cuffed …
Spread-eagle.
On another woman’s bed.
I hate myself.
At times like this.
When I …
Am the weak one.
I hate it.
But need it.
Occasionally.
“I was going to start with your nipples.”
… she said.
“But I’ve changed my mind.”
She began pinching my pussy lips.
I squirmed.
She asked …
“Are you the crying kind?”
“Depends on how bad it gets,” I said.
She smiled. Said …
“Oh, very bad. It will get very bad.”
It did.
And later …
Before she started on my tits.
She licked.
My tear-streaked face.
“A lot of women pass out …” she said.
As she screwed on.
The nipple extenders.
“… when I do what I’m about to do.”
She stood.
Stripped.
Strapped on a dildo.
Sat back on the edge of the bed.
She asked …
“Have you ever fucked an unconscious woman?”
She put a piece of tape on my mouth.
Wiped away my latest tears.
Said …
“It’s something I enjoy quite a lot.”
She crawled on top.
Of her mother.
Intertwined.
Her fingers.
With her mother’s.
Thrust.
The strap-on.
To the hilt.
Her mother …
Lifted her knees.
Moaned.
She pulled back.
Slowly.
Very slowly.
Left the tip.
Of the dildo.
Between the lips.
Of the pussy.
Her mother’s …
Pussy.
Her mother’s cunt.
She stared.
Into her mother’s eyes.
“Please.”
Her mother said.
She shook her head.
“Please, baby,” her mother said.
“Please fuck it, baby. Fuck it, baby. Please.”
Her mother said.
She thrust hard.
She thrust hard repeatedly.
And my bedroom …
Filled up with beautiful noise.
The slapping sound …
Of a wet pussy.
Being pounded.
A mother moaning.
And a daughter growling …
“You whore.”
“You fucking whore.”
“Cum, you fucking whore.”
You stop crawling.
You lift your head slowly.
Another pair of heels.
Another pair of legs.
Another pair of knees …
Spread.
Another pussy …
Waiting.
You lick.
You just lick.
You don’t listen.
To the laughter.
The insults.
The threats.
The jeers.
No.
You don’t hear those.
Not at all.
You just lick.
Until …
That hand.
Is pulling on your hair.
Again.
It’s leading you.
Again.
As you crawl.
Again.
You stop crawling.
You lift your head slowly.
Another pair of heels.
Another pair of legs.
Another pair of knees …
Spread.
Another pussy …
Waiting.
You lick.
You just lick.
You don’t think.
About how long.
You have licked.
How many.
You have licked.
Or …
When.
You can leave.
When.
These women …
Will let you leave.
If.
These women let you leave.
Women. No.
Hardly more than girls.
Your daughter’s age.
All of them.
All … was it 14 or 15? … of them.
And they probably know your daughter.
It was your daughter’s best friend.
Who seduced you.
Brought you here.
And who now grabs a handful of your hair.
And leads you.
Again.
As you crawl.
Again.
You stop crawling.
You lift your head slowly.
Another pair of heels.
Another pair of legs.
Another pair of knees …
Spread.
Another pussy …
Waiting.
You lick.
You just lick.
I ordered the mother.
To untie.
Her daughter’s tits.
And do it again.
The right way.
Tight.
Better …
This time.
The mother bent over.
Put her palms.
On my coffee table.
I laid the crop.
Across her ass.
To teach her.
That it should have been done right.
The first time.
Then …
To the bedroom.
To fuck.
Three horny women.
Licking.
Fingering.
Kissing.
And …
Slapping.
That was tonight’s special.
The daughter’s tits.
Tied tits.
Sore tits.
That ached more …
Every second.
I slapped them.
I made her mother slap them.
I even made the daughter …
Slap them herself.
As she masturbated for us.
Those tied tits.
They were the focus.
The centerpiece.
The narrative.
Of our nasty night.
And just so the mother wouldn’t feel slighted.
I told her next time …
Instead of her daughter.
It would be her.
Instead of tied tits.
A clamped clit.
But the slapping?
Oh.
The slapping.
That wouldn’t change.
Just your panties.
Now.
And you pull those …
Over your hips.
And down your legs.
For half a second.
You have second thoughts.
But.
You know.
That.
You …
Need.
You step out of the panties.
Hand them.
To her.
She frowns.
Throws them across the room.
Spits in your face.
Slaps.
Your face.
Thrusts her cane.
Between your legs.
Runs …
It’s length.
Back and forth.
Through your lips.
The lips.
Of your pussy.
She has a hard face.
Eyes of violence.
A snarl …
On her lips.
She.
Is about …
To beat …
You.
With her cane.
With contempt.
Without mercy.
Where …
You soft spots of pleasure are.
Those spots.
Private places.
You shared with lovers.
Terrible.
The hours …
That lie ahead.
Will be terrible.
But not …
As terrible …
Not so nearly …
Terrible.
As your need.