From Mother To Daughter 3 (Patreon)

They were both naked, their clothes scattered across the floor. Cannon’s in a tangled pile while Greta had been more haphazardly stripped. Wendy still couldn’t see much. Cannon’s balls were bloated, engorged to give Greta all of the seeding she seemed to want, and hanging between his legs to cover almost everything Wendy wanted to see.

Then Greta moaned, forcing her head up like she was rousing out of a coma, and Cannon stopped.

“Asking for more?” he taunted, and Greta shuddered expectantly, like a dog offered a bone.

Wendy pulled the door back until it was almost closed, but kept watching, kept listening. Even if they discovered her, it’d be worth it…

“No… don’t fuck me anymore,” Greta said with her second wind. “You’re right, I’m a whore. I need to get myself off… fuck myself on you… let me fuck you… let me be your whore… your submissive slut… I want to slave to make you come…”

Cannon took his smoking endowment from her splayed pussy and rolled onto his back. Greta quickly crawled on top of him. While they were trading places, Wendy got a good look at his manhood. It was truly impressive, bigger than any of the boys Wendy had seen, well, felt, since she’d never let a guy actually take out his thing to use on her.

It gleamed with Greta’s wetness and stood up, ferociously girthy over his hairy belly. His balls were as big as oranges. Wendy shut her thighs together so tight they panged, thinking of how much cum would be stuffed into Greta when he finally came. Greta didn’t deserve that. She didn’t deserve a man like her father—she certainly didn’t deserve Cannon…

Greta’s breasts jiggled when she got on top of Cannon, her stiff nipples giving proof of her exhilaration, as if more were needed than the way she shivered and rushed. Then Greta turned her back on Wendy. She lowered herself down onto Cannon, taking his slippery manhood in hand.

Wendy saw between her legs to the pubic thatch that couldn’t hide how red her cunt had become. Cannon’s bellend seemed much too big to fit inside her, even with Greta’s slot well-opened already. But Greta worked it inside herself with a grateful moan and then sank her way down his awe-spiring length. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she cooed in extravagant relief with Cannon gliding deeper and deeper inside her.

Down and down her ass went until she’d taken all of him to his balls. She undulated back and forth for a few moments—Wendy could only imagine how all that cock felt inside her, with even the slightest motion—then Greta worked herself up, groaning loudly as she was relieved of the massive pressure his prick had to induce, hilted inside her.

With a grunt, Greta came back down, knocking a breath out of Cannon himself, then she flew up again. Wendy saw that her hands were down in her lap; she had to be touching herself while she fucked him. Such a slut that even his big cock wasn’t enough for her.

Still, Wendy wouldn’t have thought Greta would tolerate such a selfish lover. She’d’ve thought Greta would be demanding Cannon play with her clit himself. Instead, Greta did it for him. All Cannon did was lie there and let her be his personal bitch.

Wendy no longer felt any shock or disapproval at seeing Cannon fuck such a whore instead of… instead of a more deserving woman. Whoever that woman was that Cannon would finally end up with when he stopped trysting with such tramps, Wendy envied her. And pitied her. Surely, a woman of any class would be hard-pressed to take that massive cock—even Greta was struggling with it. But still enjoying it, the slut.

Greta was taking it so fast that Cannon’s balls bounced off his ass and swung up to swat her on her glutes like he was spurring her on, a galloping racehorse only flipped upside-down. Cannon was close to erupting, even Wendy could tell, and the only effort he expended so close to the end was to lift his hips as Greta came down so she’d fully impale herself. Like a shot of whiskey, that always energized her to go for another bolt of pleasure.

Greta was trying to make herself come on that big dick, but she was too far gone to really control her body. She shot up in the air, too high, just as Cannon verged on orgasm, and his prick escaped from her burning sex. When her ass came back down, his shaft ran up the length of its split instead, holding apart her buttocks but not actually going inside her.

All of a sudden, there it was. All of it. Blazing red and dripping with Greta’s juices. Veins bulged all over it and the balls were pulled tight to the base of his length, while the ruby-colored glans seemed about to burst. They seethed with spilling precum, a shocking white in comparison to Greta’s colorless cream, spilling into the lubricated coating like oil mixing with water.

Greta propped herself up on Cannon’s chest, hands on his shoulder and pectorals to keep herself from slipping back down. She wove unsteadily in the air, her brain clearly still boiling from the treatment it had gotten, feeling all of the fucking Cannon had to give her. She stupidly squeezed Cannon’s muscular physique, forgetting why she was there… then whining in displeasure.

“Cannon,” she moaned. “Fuck me some more… please… why’d you stop?”

“Ha!” Wendy barked, unable to restrain herself now that it was clear to see Greta was every bit the slut Wendy had always thought she was.

Coming out of her sexed up trance, Greta looked over her shoulder and her jaw dropped—shocked back to her senses by an intruder seeing her in such a mortifying state.

Cannon, meanwhile, canted his head to see past Greta. Otherwise, he did nothing, not even to attend to the swaggering erection that clearly needed relief. It was like he preferred to look at Wendy than to finish up with Greta… which Wendy supposed she could understand.

What she couldn’t understand was why such a great man would bother with Greta in the first place! Didn’t he know he could do better? Didn’t he realize that… that many good women would love to be his, every bit as much as Greta was being, and cook for him too!

Clean for him!

Bear his children!

“What are you doing with that slut?” Wendy shrieked, a cathartic roar breaking loose of her lithe body. “Don’t you know she’ll cheat on you?”

Back in control of herself, despite her ragged appearance of shining sweat and ruffled hair, Greta slunk back down to lie on Cannon as she would luxuriate, bare naked, on top of a bearskin rug.

“Cheat? No, never. I’ll never find anyone else who can give me what he gives me…” Then she looked at Wendy, sadistically sloe-eyed. “And he won’t find anyone who lets him do what he does to me—certainly not you.”

Wendy gasped. Who did this bitch think she was? Insinuating that she wanted to… after Cannon had snubbed her to leave on one of his precious assignments… maybe, if he’d groveled a little, then she could forgive him, but after she’d caught him with Greta? Forget it!

Greta saw that she’d scored a point. She ran a hand over Cannon’s brawny chest—enjoying her feel of the power that had just been pounding into her, over and over again. It wasn’t simply that he was well-endowed. Cannon had the body and the stamina to use his cock until a woman didn’t just come: until her whole world was coming.

“You’re a virgin,” Greta needled, seeing and fully indulging in the opportunity to finish off her old rival, the girl who’d never approved of her, who’d always lorded her blood relation to Schneider over Greta’s head, making it clear she was only a golddigger, not a real part of the family. “A silly little girl who can’t even take this big cock. Go back home to your father. I’ve got a real man.”

Wendy turned red. Angry as she’d been with Cannon, she’d always thought there was something there, maybe something that could grow once Cannon got back from his mission and made a few apologies. He’d saved her, after all. Didn’t he care any?

“Cannon! Are you going to let her talk about me that way?”

Cannon let out a single cough of laughter, his amusement directed at both quarreling women… but subordinate to the lust he still hadn’t sated. “You want to prove her wrong? I’m right here.”