From Mother To Daughter 9 (Patreon)

Greta was competitive, determined to do everything to Wendy that Wendy was doing to her. But Wendy found that she didn’t mind. It only made her feel good, made Greta a better lover for Cannon too.

She relished the touch of Greta’s hands on her ass, spreading her buttocks and pressing them together, showing Wendy just how pliant the flesh was as their bodies continued a needful rhythm.

Greta ducked her head down, her mouth onto the crest of Wendy’s tit. Her eyes flickered upward, looking for Wendy’s resistance. There was none. Greta smiled a moment, then wrapped that smile around a pink nipple. She suckled lovingly at it.

“It’s not fair,” Wendy moaned. “Not fair that you got to taste me—know such an intimate thing about me—but I have no idea how you taste. I’ve never been allowed to…”

Wendy gasped, arching her chest up for Greta’s perusal. Her eyes closed—she simply enjoyed being serviced by Greta. Her hands stroked Greta’s hair, encouraging her. Pleasure thrummed inside her and she thrust out her chest, pushing her nipple deeper into Greta’s mouth. Rubbing her sweaty tits all over Greta’s face.

Greta moved back then. Slipping all the way down to the bath mat, with a hand on Wendy’s waist to bring her with her. She got in a few more kisses as they lowered themselves down, Greta onto her back and Wendy onto Greta, but her cunt ached with need.

“It’s not fair,” Wendy said again. “You’re going to let me taste you… you’re going to come for me… like I came for you…”

She reached down between Greta’s legs and squeezed her grip into Greta’s crotch, making the older woman moan as the pressure sent jagged spikes of feeling inside of her. Penetrating more deeply than Wendy’s fingers ever could.

Wendy let up her grip and switched to the pads of her fingers, stroking them up and down Greta’s shaven sex. Then, with one finger, she parted Greta’s labia and ran her fingertip through the dampness inside her stepmother. All the way to her opening.

Greta let out a curse, not so much for how Wendy’s finger felt, but for how it seemed to rekindle the firestorm that had been inside her when she and Cannon had fucked.

Wendy pushed suddenly into her and Greta swore even more vehemently. In the moment of penetration, her passion was indistinguishable from what it had been with Cannon. Greta held onto that feeling as she looked at Wendy… so young, so beautiful… and she wanted her, even if she wasn’t Cannon, even if she couldn’t overwhelm Greta the way a man could.

It didn’t matter. Greta’s body was already surrendered, given over to the decadence of sex. She’d submit, she’d come, if only Wendy wanted her to.

Wendy quivered, feeling the wetness of Greta’s sex, so slick it sucked at her finger. How alive it was with its pleasured convulsions all around her sense of touch. It pulsed, thrummed, bathed her finger in a moisture she’d only known inside herself.

Almost involuntarily she moved her finger, her eyes beginning to gleam with arousal as she detected the loving response of Greta’s folds. It was all hot and tight and wet—this was what Cannon had felt inside Greta, inside her.

“My clit now,” Greta sighed. “We both know that’s where it’s the best.”

Wendy didn’t need to be told. She was curious as hell to do to Greta what had been done to her, to see the pleasure she had known herself on another woman’s face and see that she’d put it there.

She went down to Greta’s chest, kissing the nipples to lengthy, shivery hardness before devouring them. Feeling them in her mouth like she’d felt Greta’s cunt around her finger. She sucked hard, felt the nipple pulsate, jump when it was tongued.

Her finger was still in Greta’s pussy, which seemed to move when she gave Greta’s nipple a slurp. While she busied her finger inside of Greta, the nipple vibrated, bee-stung, in her mouth. She snaked another finger into Greta and went deeper with both, thinking that it was no wonder Cannon had picked this woman.

She couldn’t blame him. Now that she had some experience, she wanted both of them too. Wendy knew that she was young and fresh and pure… that wasn’t better than being dark and dirty like Greta… what was better was both of them, servicing Cannon each in their own ways. Getting to see—getting to feel—that different sex—both belonging to Cannon. He was too much man for just one.

“You’re wasting the hot water,” Cannon said, entering the bathroom with his monstrous erection back.

Even with how enthused they were for each other, Wendy and Greta couldn’t help but stand at a sort of attention for him. Thrusting their chests out, eyeing his masculinity. He went to them—they shuddered with the speculation of which he would pick—then his arms were around them both, taking them with him into the steamy shower.

They could not still their own fingers, which endlessly roved over Cannon’s toned flesh. Wendy started to giggle, feeling Cannon’s big hand on her hip, seeming to encompass all of its generous swell. The laughter was contagious, spreading to Greta, but Cannon didn’t laugh. He only nosed their faces up to his, drinking their kisses one at a time.

Then turning Wendy, pushing her away from him and into the wall. She caught herself on it, her hands pressed to the tile, and realized that was the position Cannon wanted her in when he took her from behind.

Cannon enjoyed having Greta still vined around him, caressing him while he took up his place behind Wendy, but his attention was laser-focused on the younger woman. Her upthrust ass called to him. As he started to put his throbbing cockhead into her dripping sex, his eyes went instead to the inviting little pucker just above the more conventional entrance.

He couldn’t resist that tempting tightness. He noticed it flex as her cunt pulsed, awaiting his entry. Cannon took hold of Wendy’s waist; too firm a grip to ever let her escape before his lust was fully satisfied.

He aimed himself at the tight pink hole that was her last virginity. Slowly pushing himself forward. As he eased his cockhead in, her anus contracted, slowing his progress to the tiniest fraction of an inch.

“My ass!” Wendy shrieked. “That’s too damn big! You’ll rip me in half! No, no, put it in my cunt!”

Greta chuckled. “You just relax that little asshole, because if that’s where he wants to go, that’s where you’re getting it. And you’re going to love it. Just like I did.”

Wendy’s old reservations about sex warred with her newfound debauchery. She didn’t see any way he could fit inside her. But she didn’t want to stop this whirlwind orgy of experimentation that the night had become. Wendy didn’t want anything to be off-limits.

Yet who was to say this wasn’t where the line should be drawn? It seemed so impossible… and Greta had done it. She didn’t want Greta capable of something she wasn’t, more experienced than her, a better lover than her…

The deciding factor was Cannon, of course. She knew it wasn’t in his nature to be denied so Wendy chose to relax as much as possible and let him have his try. She took a deep breath and Cannon worked his slick knob past her constricting entrance.

He did it gently, for someone like him. Waiting a moment and allowing her to breathe with this new penetration electrifying her, making her sizzle with pain and yet falling short of the maiming she’d feared.

He eased in another inch. Wendy’s eyes and teeth clanged shut. She thought she would pass out with the pain ramping up, making her forget all pleasure. Even as the hurt subsided, her fear rushed in to replace it.

“No!” she sobbed. “I told you it wouldn’t fit! I’m not a slut like Greta, I’m not, not—"

Cannon white-knuckled his grip on her hips. He didn’t want her doing anything but feeding his hungry cock.

“It’s okay, Wendy,” Greta soothed. “Once you’re used to it, you’ll be screaming for more. Calm down, calm down…”

She petted Wendy, hands running softly down her back, preparing her for Cannon as he couldn’t do himself. He was immovable, holding completely still until she relaxed. Then another inch went into her. Wendy cringed, gasped for breath, but gave in—both to Cannon’s inexorable thrust and to Greta’s soothing caresses.

Cannon waited again, then gave her more. Wendy cried out, but Greta’s touches and kisses soon eased the hurt. Cannon went in more, and more. When there was no more of his length to visit upon Wendy, he came out of her, only to slowly drive back in as far as he’d gone before.

He kept up those languid strokes, in and out, but not without any stop. Wendy just had to bear the pain, with the help of Greta’s soothing, motherly love.