Two Plus One

Two Plus One

Chapter 1

In a past life Marge must have been a courtesan. Or a prostitute. That's if you believe in reincarnation. If you're not a Hindu, Buddhist, or New Age person, you can tell your friends Marge is a libertine. We find Marge married to a wonderful man, a good looking man, who works long hours at a software startup, and she's lucky if she sees him three times a week. He could have been a lawyer, since he was a good speaker and could extemporize bullshit at the drop of a hat. The natural career path for a lawyer, especially a good looking lawyer who could spout bullshit, was politics. But he had received his third round of funding, and selling off his shares wouldn't be a good idea. Especially since the shares were not publicly traded yet. And were worthless. The company's business plan was predicated on teaching science with porn stars, and the projected market was huge. Especially for students who want to get into medical school.

Jason was a well-hung Harvard Law School graduate, and had graduated summa cum laude. The 'cum' has no reference to his dating life, although he did date a few Radcliff girls who were always available. It was easy, picking up girls in pubs around Harvard Square. He learned that Radcliff girls didn't date to meet entrepreneurs; they dated to get laid. Thus, Jason developed a sense of confidence that would serve him well later on in life. Especially politics.

He met Marge when he was in law school. Marge had majored in psychology and now conducted focus groups. The group focused on achieving orgasms, for what was the purpose of life except to have orgasms? Starting with only a few frustrated housewives, the group had grown exponentially, as they say, and Marge had met Ruth, a therapist, who referred women to Marge.

Marge was 42 years old, and had studied Yoga. She had put on a few pounds, and was now a size 12. She had almost memorized the Kama Sutra. The latter is not to be read as a novel, but more as a reference guide. Marge taught women how to achieve orgasms via asanas -- postures for stretching lumbar and pelvic muscles, not designed for eating each other out.

Marge had a daughter, Cathy. Cathy was 21, and a senior at Radcliff College. Cathy, in the tradition of Radcliff, was an easy lay. She could have been called a cheap date. All it took was one beer and anyone could fuck her. Well, not anyone; she didn't fuck homeless people. She preferred Harvard men, well bred types. Homeless people need not apply.

Cathy also attended yoga classes. Trying to attempt the 'Cobra Pose' while texting was not a good idea, and this resulted in Cathy spraining her back. She hailed a cab, who very carefully deposited Cathy back home. She was in pain. The cabbie, being a Punjabi, was totally sympathetic.

* * *

Marge filled the tub with hot water and helped her daughter down into the soothing hot bath. It had been years since she'd last given Cathy a bath, and as her hands moved lovingly over Cathy's curves, she felt a stirring in her groin. It began in the clitoral region and spread throughout her vulva, along her perineum and up into her anus. Essentially, her entire field of awareness was throbbing. Between Cathy being at her mercy, so to say, and her lower body throbbing, it was a one-two punch that drove Marge onward.

Marge was a passionate person, a sexual being, a person who thrived on self abuse, as masturbation is sometimes called. She fingered herself during and after she pissed; she frigged herself during her quiet times; and she desperately employed a 12-inch vibrator when she was in serious need. Which was most of the time. She became aroused reading lurid romance novels, watching daytime TV like Jerry Springer, and when her son kissed her on the cheek. You might surmise it didn't take much stimulation, either tactile, visual, or aural, to rev up her hormones. Her breasts weighed on her hands, heavy and full, her nipples tingled, her rectum pulsed, and her cunt throbbed. How could she function? She was like Vesuvius waiting to explode!

There wasn't much action from Jason these days. He was usually exhausted or meeting with VC's for more funding. Jason didn't make love; those days were long gone. Jason would allow his wife to play with his pecker until it was hard and then he'd allow Marge to climb over him, and stick his affair into her hungry pussy. Luckily, Marge swung both ways, and she wasn't averse to burying her face between a female's legs, to which she had a preference. She avoided getting a reputation as a lesbian by bragging about her husband's staying power; she considered anything over two minutes worth bragging about.

Naturally this restrictive diet left her frustrated and she resorted to her list of contacts in her mobile. They were listed not alphabetically, but by their preferences. She didn't list animals yet, but did include females who owned animals. Especially donkeys. She preferred women her own age, women in their 40's, and those women who were busty were listed under favorites. She herself had massive boobs and she preferred breast worship the most important. She did not like women who were too hairy since spitting out cunt hairs interrupted the flow of energy, and was not erotic. She avoided women with saggy boobs but devoted herself to women with supple thighs, a hairy ass, and a long tongue.

Given there were hundreds of women, also those referred by Ruth, who took yoga classes, she considered herself a tribad of the highest order. She love to eat pussy. This provided women with stress relief, and wasn't as dangerous as yoga.

* * *

Carefully, she lathered down Cathy's curvy hips and long slender legs, lingering at the girl's beautiful feet. Cathy had been taking jazz classes at school and she had long legs and a perfect ass. She brought her hand up Cathy's inner thighs, right to her box. It was a bold gesture, but intuitive. Cathy was blessed with a large cunt, like her mother. Its lips were thick and were always wet. Like her mother's.

Marge used a soap with healing power, similar to fashionable mountain soaps for women. Since her soaps were Imported from India, she became a distributor for Himalayan soaps. Yogis advocated using these soaps for vaginal cleansing, and sore muscles. When applied locally to the clit, Yogi soaps caused a tingling sensation and peace of mind, a veritable paradox.

Cathy flinched and gasped, but Marge held her hand there firmly. "It doesn't still hurt, does it, baby?"

"No, I guess not..." She massaged Cathy's lower back, with her special soap, especially Cathy's pear shaped ass. She was only a few millimeters from Cathy's anal pucker.

"I didn't think so. And you know what? It won't hurt at all, if you do your Kegels."

Kegels strengthen the pelvic muscles, and make sex more fun. No more urine leakage or farting during prayer meetings.

"Besides, I'm going to teach you how to relax when you're getting laid," Marge went on. Obviously, Marge was a member of the #metoo movement, where the only time sex wasn't allowed was at the dinner table. Marge was a no nonsense sensualist. She believed every orifice had a dual purpose, one functional and one for fun. Jamming her thumb up a woman's ass was far more erotic than sticking your tongue down her throat.

"You mean, it's okay for anyone to stick his penis inside of me? To be promiscuous? " Cathy asked naively.

Marge smiled. "Honey, you're growing up." To emphasize the point, she moved her free hand over the girl's silky bosom. After which she slid her hand to her daughter's clit and pressed gently on it.

"Oh!"

"Well, that means you're going to love screwing, because you're having good responses! Yes, once you learn to twist your ass and roll your hips in a figure-eight. The worst thing you can do is just lay there, like a limp rag doll. "

"But, won't that make the guy come fast?" She knew men usually unloaded fast. It wasn't like porn scenes where the stud fucks for 20 minutes. In porn they play the scene over and over, and you get the impression he's still in the saddle.

"Don't worry, honey. I'm here to help you." Marge slipped a finger up Cathy's pussy. The warm water had soothed and relaxed her, so it was easy for Marge to penetrate.

"Mom!"

"Ssshhh... relax. My finger doesn't hurt, does it?"

Gently, Marge moving her finger around and around, inside Cathy's cunt, while at the same time using her thumb to play with her clit.

"Ohhhh, wow!"

"See? Doesn't that feel good?" Marge slid a second finger up the girl's pussy and bent it slightly. The knuckle rubbed up against the inner wall of the girl's vulva.

"Unh, unh, unh..."

When she was certain that her daughter was enjoying herself, Marge withdrew her fingers, then slid them back in, repeating the procedure over and over again until she was finger-fucking her with a steady rhythm. Cathy's pussy had expanded and there was room for four fingers. Maybe a fist.

"Oh, Mom! Mom! It's happening!" Cathy cried. She squeezed her eyes shut, arched her back and splashed her feet rapidly in the water.

Marge smiled, wiggling her fingers deep in her daughter's cunt, giving her lots of finger action, as the first orgasm shook her Radcliff frame.

When it was over, Marge pulled her fingers free and let Cathy rest in the warm, soothing water.

The girl looked lovely lying there, with the water lapping up against her firm tits and fanning out her light hair.

When she opened her eyes, she smiled, very relaxed, at her mother. "Thanks, Mom. That felt so good."

"Well, what are mothers for?" She smiled sweetly, but her mind was planning ahead. "Here, come out of the tub and let me dry you off before you catch cold." Marge grabbed a thick white bath towel from off the rack and held it open.

Cathy stood up and stepped out of the bathtub, and the rosy glow of her body was so lovely that Marge leaned over and planted a kiss on her left tit. The feel of that firm, smooth flesh against her lips thrilled Marge, and it was all she could do to restrain herself. She knew she mustn't scare the girl, but take things slowly.

Cathy smiled shyly and let her mother towel her dry. Then she slipped into a terry cloth bathrobe, and the two of them walked back to Cathy's bedroom.

"Mom?" Cathy asked as she sat down on her bed. "You know that day I found you with the vibrator in your pussy?" Marge could have pretended not to hear. If it was important, Cathy would ask her again.

"You remember, Mom?"

"You mean the big red one?"

"Yes. You were playing with yourself, right? " Cathy respected her mother's privacy, but this was important. "Your eyes were closed, and you were mumbling filth ... or were you chanting? What were you thinking about?"

"Sometimes I fantasize, let my imagination run wild, especially after an aphrodisiac, er, ... tea."

"Tea? What kind of tea?"

"A special blend of herbal tea, containing the usual stuff -- like ginseng, horny goat weed ..."

"Not Spanish Fly?" Cathy had obviously been dating med students.

"Nope. That usually works only for men ..."

"So what do you think about? Can I watch you when you're masturbating?"

Marge took a deep breath, happy that Cathy had a thirst for knowledge. She felt knowledge is power, and didn't want Cathy knocked up by a college student from the Middle East.

"What we are in our everyday existence is usually dull. Boring. Like having sex with your husband, the same guy every time." She almost added, 'assuming you get anything at all.'

Marge ran her hands over her own breasts, to test their firmness, their weight. She flicked her nipples to make them pop.

"When you fantasize you can have sex with anyone and anything you want. You can have a woman licking your pussy, another woman eating your ass, you can be sucking a huge cock; maybe even the piano player from church pissing on your face. You can watch women perform, five, ten, twenty women at once fingering and licking and pissing. Like in a Marquis De Sade dinner party." Marge searched her mind for the possibilities. "Maybe even pooping, though pooping is not my cup of tea ..."

"What about men? Should I imagine being raped?"

"Men can contribute, but they're limited. Use a guy for service. Let him plug you, but he needs to pull out. If a man has been trained, he can screw by the numbers. Don't depend on love, because you do not fall in love by getting fucked or buggered. Love takes time ..."

"What about dad?"

"Forget dad. When he fucks me, I swear he's following instructions. Like a computer is telling him what to do. First a little kiss, more like a pucker. No tongue. Then he plays with my boobs, for maybe a minute or two. He may go down on me, but that's usually in movies, where you see a guy under the blankets, hopefully not smoking ..."

Marge sighed. "Men know they have to perform or we nag them, complain about how long it's been ... If a guy cheats, the wife has to pretend she doesn't know about it. Because if Jason has been with another woman, I can tell the minute he walks through the door. Especially if he heads right into the shower."

Cathy nodded her head, but she looked disappointed.

"Let's face it. Nothing turns a man off faster, than knowing your wife expects you to perform. She lays there in bed, doused with cologne, her pussy wet, her nipples stiff, and she's been playing with herself for an hour or two ... It's sexier to surprise her. Maybe sneak up on her while she's talking to her mom on the phone.

"I think there are two types of men, Marge continued. "One is the lover, the stud. He thinks every woman wants to be fucked by him. He can't walk by a woman with giving her that smile, not quite leering at her. He realizes a woman needs to let him know when she's ready ..."

Cathy listened wide eyed.

"The second type is more common. He's the ideal mate -- trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly --"

"Isn't that the Scout Law? "

Cathy had dated a Boy Scout when she was in high school.

"Yes, it is," Marge admitted. "Very conventional. But useful ..."

Cathy wasn't enthusiastic about Type B.

"How about a guy who works? A blue collar type?"

"You mean a guy who comes home and wants you to get him a beer? He plunks himself down in front of the TV, and lets go with a rouser? A huge fart? "

"Jeez ... that's disgusting."

"And by the time he's forty, he's got a big gut ..."

Marge was on a roll.

"But I tell you what. If you promise not to tell anyone about it, I'll let you watch Ruth and me fuck."

"How?"

"Dildos, strap-ons. Anything phallic is good. Ruth likes to try new things. She had a French tickler, after we had a cocktail. " She added. "An aphrodisiac cocktail ..." giggling.

"Like Spanish fly?"

"Something like that, but Spanish Fly works for men. Not women."

"Ohhhh?"

"Women use Horny Goat Weed ..."
There was a moment where Marge paused for effect. Action speaks louder than words.

Marge said carefully, "I was kinda hoping you and I could fool around a little, too!"

"Really? Doing what?" Cathy asked eagerly.

"Well, first of all, would you like to massage my boobs? Women tend to carry lots of stress in their boobs."

Cathy's gaze dropped to her mother's heavy breasts. "Sure, that would be awesome. "

Marge smiled and took off her shirt. Her ample bosom was encased in a sheer, lacy bra, the stiff nipples clearly visible through the gauzy material. When she unhooked the bra and slid out of it, Cathy's eyes popped.

"Wow! They sure are big!" Cathy giggled, and she reached out, grabbing handfuls of her mother's boobs.

Marge groaned with excitement as her daughter's slim fingers played with her nipples. Cunt juice began to flow freely into her panties, and she bit her lip, trying to hold back the powerful sexual forces that were building inside her.

Cathy smoothed her hand into her mother's deep cleavage, so that the two melon sized tits sandwiched it tightly. Then she slid it over the massive swells and down toward the nipples.

"Your nipples are popping out!"

"Yes, honey, that means that I'm really turned on! And you know what would turn me on even more?"

"What?"

"If you took off that robe, so I could feel you against me."

Quickly, Cathy did as her mother suggested. Throwing the robe aside, she crawled close to Marge, rubbing her perky tits against the woman's enormous melons. Almost immediately, Cathy's nipples grew out, stiff and red.

"Jeez, that feels good!"

"Mmmmm . . . come closer." Marge wrapped her arms around Cathy, grunting with the pleasure of feeling the girl's warm young body so close to her. She began to twist from side to side so her sensitive nipples moved all over Cathy's chest.

"Can I suck on your nipples? I love your nipples ..."

"God, yes! I'd love it!"

Marge shut her eyes, and when she felt Cathy's mouth close over her left nipple, she shivered with ecstasy.

"I think I'm getting turn on ... my pussy is leaking," Cathy said.

"Mmmmm... your pussy is speaking to you, honey. That's a sure sign that you're getting aroused!"

Marge's cunt was swelling up rapidly, so sensitive and full of blood that it felt as if it would explode.

"Don't be afraid, honey," she murmured, stroking Cathy's back. Cathy had paused in her sucking. "I like it kinda rough. In fact, you can even bite me."

Spurred on, Cathy began to lash her mother's nipple with her tongue, every so often baring her teeth so she could sink them into the sensitive nub.

And with her restless hand, she explored the great smooth surface of her mother's right tit, lingering at the rich under swell, delighting in the way it curved up softly to the nipple.

"Oh Christ, I can't stand it!" Marge whimpered, tossing her wild red hair as if it were a mane.

She slid her hand up between her thighs and searched out her clit. It was sticking out from its hood, and it was so sensitive, that when Marge touched it lightly with her finger, she sparked a spasm of pleasure.

Cathy felt her mother shake violently and pulled her mouth off the woman's luscious tit.

Looking down at Marge's cunt mound, she was startled when she saw that Marge's fingers were rooting through her bush, yanking on her clit.

"Oooh, I bet that feels good," Cathy cooed. She had never seen another woman pleasuring herself.

"Mmmm. . . I'm gonna come any second, baby, just let me get myself off, and then I'll give you an orgasm you'll never forget."

"Oh, wow! What do I do?"

"Just keep on sucking my tit, honey. It feels nice!"

Eagerly, Cathy buried her face in her mother's heavy breast again, kneading and sucking and biting hard.

"Aw, Jesus, I can't take it!" Marge cried. She quivered and humped her hips, the wild sensations in her body growing and growing.

She was beating mercilessly on her clit, squeezing and tugging and pressing on it, until it throbbed with both pleasure and pain. Desperate to get herself off, she plunged three fingers up her sloshy hole and flexed them so that they pressed against her g-spot.

"Ungh, ungh, ungh! Hurt me, baby. Bite me!" Marge cried. She needed release from the burning itch that was torturing her. Wildly excited, Cathy did not hesitate this time. She chomped down on her mother's distended nipple.

"Oooh, God!"

The sharp pain exploded into an orgasm. Marge let herself go completely, giving herself up to a long drawn out orgasm.

When she was herself again, groggy and bleary-eyed, Cathy's face was hovering above hers, a look of concern on it.

"Are you okay, Mom?"

Marge laughed. "Well of course I'm okay! When you come hard, that's what happens. And it's about time, young lady, that you found out for yourself. Just lie back and relax."

Her eyes bright with lust, Cathy did as she was told. Quickly Marge crouched above her, straddling her slim body. Her huge tits hung down so that the nipples just skimmed the girl's belly.