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"Chapter five of eight-The Slave of an Angel – Porn stories"

My wife was out of town for the week, which left me without much to do besides watching TV or…

(What follows is a work of fiction. All readers must be over eighteen years of age. It is suggested that readers use their most open minds, but, since some have nothing resembling such, this cannot be made a requirement for enjoying the story. If you are one of those poor, unfortunate thinkers who have lost the key of acceptance and cannot open their minds, please don’t continue reading what you know will stir up your righteous indignation.)Chapter OneMy Dad made mistakes the year I was 18. He was a deputy sheriff in Oklahoma City. He was busted for dealing pounds of methamphetamine, and given thirty-five years. Because he was a lawman, he was put in solitary confinement. Putting ex-lawmen in solitary confinement is a clever way of letting the general prison population know they’re cops. I was just finishing the drawing I was going to send him for my 19 Christmas, when I found out he had beaten himself up and then hung himself in his cell at the prison at Lexington.Mom made some mistakes, too, but hers were more innocent…at least at first. After Dad beat himself to death, Mom grieved for about a year, about the appropriate time for a wife-beater who was wired all the time. Then she started dressing more attractively. She also started taking the stairs to and from the third-floor law office where she was a legal secretary. She had some extra weight to take off if she hoped to find a husband who wouldn’t take off, she said. When she fell down the stairs and broke her arm in seventeen places, her job as well as her motivation to exercise ceased.Mom had no choice. She was alone in Oklahoma City without a husband or a job. She also had a hungry, growing teenaged son. She packed our belongings in the back of her Ford Country Squire station wagon and drove us the one hundred and twenty miles from OKC to Hanging Tree, Oklahoma–the strangest smalltown in the world.Hanging Tree was named after a hanging tree that still stood–after two hundred proud years of evil–in the yard of the courthouse square in the center of the tiny town. The tree had been used for hanging in the previous century first by the “civilized” Native Americans then by the “cultured” European invaders. Ropes tied to its strongest and most accessible limb had ended hundreds of lives over the years. I thought the town was going to end my life without the courtesy of a noose.Mom moved us in with her widowed mother in a white clapboard house at the southskirts of Hanging Tree. From the moment we moved in, there was trouble. Trouble was named Stanley. Stanley was my cousin, but he wasn’t proud of that fact. To him, my father’s disgrace was mine and my mother’s as well. He was a thick-skulled, ex-Marine, 18 years older than I was, but he became my personal demon. He didn’t like the idea that Mom and I were living with his grandma, increasing her burden in her golden years. He loved his grandma. He respected his grandma like any good military man. When he came over and threatened to kill me if I didn’t leave, I told him to go fuck himself, so he decided to change tactics. That’s why he told Grandma Russell that I’d been having sex with my mother since Dad went to prison. It was his way of gently motivating his beloved grandmother to do the right thing and kick us out.I had just walked into the yard at Grandma’s house. I’d been across town at a friend’s house smoking pot. I loved the way pot made me feel, and the fact that it was illegal only made me feel closer to my dead Dad. Grandma was out in the yard, hanging washing on the clothes line. They liked hanging things in Hanging Tree. I had no idea my grandmother was waiting to hang me up for the rest of my life.As I walked into the yard, Grandma Russell said, “Micheal, come here! I want to talk to you!”She sounded serious, so I stopped in the yard and said, “What you want, Grandma?”She walked her bony, wrinkled ass, working her elbows for propulsion, and came quickly across the yard to where I stood by the gate. When she got two feet from me, she stopped, put one hand on a hip, and shook the index finger of her other hand in my face. Taken aback, I said, “What’s the deal, Grandma?”“Micheal Russell, have you been having sex with your mother?” The finger in my face wagged out each word. “Stanley was over here this morning and said you’ve been doing it with your mother ever since your father went to prison and died! If you have, you had just better confess your sin so I can pray for you!”I looked at her. I started to speak, but words wouldn’t come. I was shocked beyond tears or self-defense. From my 18-year-old viewpoint, I was living through a hell on earth. My father had been disgraced, imprisoned, and killed. My mother had disabled herself, and we’d had to move from Oklahoma City to a scab like Hanging Tree. I had been getting one or two pimples that made me self-conscious. We had no money, I had no friends, and now my grandmother was accusing me of fucking my mother!“No, Grandma! No! Christ!”“Don’t you use the name of the Savior in vain, young man. You’re in enough trouble with Heaven for having carnal knowledge of your own sweet mother and her with one bad arm!”“But I didn’t! I didn’t have sex with Mom! Grandma! Stanley’s lying! Why are you so quick to believe something like that just because my sick cousin Stanley says it’s so?”She looked at me with hidden disappointment dawning as she realized that it probably wasn’t true. She had been ready for a battle against the devil for my soul and Momma’s pussy. Now that she began to believe I was telling the truth (and at the time I was), she became embarrassed. But it was a strange embarrassment.Instead of acting as if she were embarrassed about what she had said, she acted as if she were naked in front of me. When a woman is simply apologizing for being irrational, she doesn’t cover her clothed breasts with her arm, or splay her hand over her clothed pussy. I was young, but I read a lot. I knew the signs, and there was no mistaking the look in Grandma’s eyes. She was as turned on as a cat in heat.She took the hand that had symbolically hidden her pussy and put it on my arm. She smiled at me and laid her head against my shoulder. I couldn’t believe what seemed to be happening. Then she removed any doubt. Putting her other hand on the bulge in the front of my jeans, my grandmother said, “Since your grandfather died, it seems like my old cunt does all my thinking for me.”The longer Grandma massaged my dick through my jeans, the more forgiving I became. “Your Mom is going to be in Tulsa till late tonight. Let’s go in the house,” she said. I was easily led.We went to her bedroom. She sat on the bed and pulled me close to her. With a wicked gleam dancing in her old eyes, Grandma undid my belt and fly, took out my rock-hard eight inches (the only thing Dad left me), and dove for it like a big-mouthed bass for a spinner. I’d never experienced the like before, but Grandma had. She knew just what to do, grabbing my ass, twirling the tip of her tongue around the head of my dick as it bobbed in and out of her mouth. In what seemed like moments, I was holding the back of Grandma’s head with both hands and squirting cum into her throat. She moaned as she sucked. My head was reeling from the orgasm and from the thought of what I was doing.When she’d sucked me dry, she sat back, wiped her lips, smiled at me and said, “Now…you may not be fucking your mother, but you can fuck your old grandma’s pussy if you want.” She pulled her feet up on the bed, pulled up the hem of her dress, spread her legs, and scooted her hips forward on the bed. I reached down and grabbed her panties and pulled them down her skinny thighs and off over her tiny feet. She reached down and spread her inner lips. My dick got hard again.I kneeled on the bed and positioned myself between her thighs. Grandma reached in the front of her dress and pulled out a long, hard-nippled breast. Then she reached between my legs and grabbed my cock. “Oh, God forgive me! Heaven knows I need this!” Then she put the head of my dick between her moist lips. She threw her arms around my lower back and slammed me into her sixty-year-old snatch. It was warm, and soft, and I was hooked.In the limited day to day evaluation of a teenage boy, I became quite fond of life in Hanging Tree. I went to school where I was a slightly shy new kid with few friends, but when I came home I had plenty of opportunities to relieve the day’s stresses. Every time Mom was out of the house, I’d fuck Grandma like we were newlyweds. I had her all over the house. She made me like the forbidden aspect of our lovemaking by being up front with her wickedness. Sometimes I’d worry about people coming to the door, because when I was sliding my big dick in and out of Grandma’s lush, withered cunt, she’d shout things like, “That’s it. That’s it, son! Fuck Grandma’s pussy hard! Oh, you grandmotherfucker!”Mom never let on that she knew. I found out that Grandma had told her soon after it began, but Mom played dumb. Then on the night of July 4th, 1979, Mom and Grandma started getting ready to go somewhere. I came in the house and went to the refrigerator to get a Dr. Pepper. I noticed them getting ready and asked where they were going.“You’re going too,” Grandma said. “Go get cleaned up some.”“Where am I going?” I asked Mom who came into the kitchen, asking me to zip her up. (Her right arm was still weak from the fall.)“We’re going to a special Bible study,” Mom said, smiling over her shoulder at me after I pulled the zipper to her neckline.“Ah, Mom. I don’t want to go to church.” We didn’t make it a habit of going to church. Dad had been a nonbeliever, and Mom hadn’t made a big thing of her beliefs if she had any. I had come to the conclusion that God was a story like Santa Claus that they told you to convince you to be good.With Mom standing right in front of me, smiling at me and working to put her earring on, Grandma walked right up to me and grabbed my bulge. She’d never done anything like that in front of Mom before. I looked at Mom’s face, expecting surprise, and saw only that kindly light she always shined at her only child. Grandma said, “You’ll like this Bible study, you hard-dicked sweetheart. Now go get ready!” She gave my bulge a squeeze that made me see stars. I went to comb my hair.It was indeed a “special” Bible study, but I wondered then, and I still wonder, how unique it was. Christianity, in its more fundamentalist forms, is a repressive disease that starves its practioners for sex. If there were no Christianity, there would be a hundred times less perversion. Christianity forces people to deny their sexuality until it bursts forth in slightly twisted eruptions. I wondered how many churches across the nation has special meetings that only the more sensual Biblethumpers attended.The Bible study was held at a house in the country. When we pulled up about sunset, there were six cars parked carelessly around the circular drive at the front of the expensive home. Grandma parked the station wagon, and we went inside.A beautiful blonde girl of about twelve years met us at the front door and escorted us to a large inner room. There were eleven people in the room. Our number would bring the total to a multiple of seven. I learned that this was thought to be important. The young blonde introduced us to the assembly by happily proclaiming, “The seventh family is here! Here they are! The seventh family is here.”The room was furnished with style. The walls were covered with bright abstract paintings and the leaves of potted plants set all around its perimeter. The open square of the center of the room was bordered by long, plush, white couches. We sat in one corner of the fence of couches, and a tall, thin, dark man in a black business suit stood and began addressing the congregation:“If you have known Love, you have known God,” said the deacon.“If you have known Love, you have known God,” we all repeated.The deacon strolled slowly around the inner square, smiling at each, acknowledging each, as he spoke:“This is a great occasion for us today. Last month we lost three of our members who moved to Los Angeles. We have done well, but there is only so much we can do if we lack the Holy Numbers. Now we have seven families represented by fourteen people. Our prayers will be mighty tonight, praise God.”“Praise God,” the congregation echoed.“I am called The Deacon. No one here uses their everyday name. This is a special meeting of true believers in God’s grace. We believe, as did the first century Christians, that nothing is wrong as long as it hurts no one and is done in true love. Our freedom, eroded by centuries of dogma, is the liberty of the Law of Love.“We all go to regular Fundamentalist churches because Fundamentalism is about all there is in Oklahoma. But this is our true place of worship. Here we thank God for the gift of our bodies. Here we live as we were created to live in shameless Eden.”At that, everyone stood. I’d only been to church once or twice in my life, but I remembered they were big about everybody doing everything together, standing together, sitting together, singing together. I stood. Then everyone started taking their clothes off. It was quiet, unhurried, almost reverent. Not until I saw Mom and Grandma, to my right and my left, disrobing did I come out of my amazement enough to do likewise.When everyone was naked, the Deacon took a seat on the couch. Then the women, all the women, stood and paraded in the center square. At first they said nothing, just walked around, every shape and size of women, every age from the twelve-year-old blonde to my sixtyish grandmother. I couldn’t take my eyes off my beautiful, big-boobed, brunette-bushed Mom. Since I had been wrongly accused of fucking her, fucking her was all I could think about. The mind is funny that way.Then, at a nod from the Deacon, the women stood together in a cluster, raised their prayerful hands to their lips, bowed their heads, and began chanting a Bible verse over and over–“Give to every man who asks of you, and from him who would borrow of you, turn not away.“Give to every man who asks of you, and from him who would borrow of you, turn not away…”Besides the Deacon, there were two other males in the room, a fat man with a grey beard and a skinny redheaded guy a few years older than me. They were all masturbating their cocks to get them hard. I didn’t have to.The women stopped chanting their Bible verses. Then Mom walked over to me, her big breasts swinging, still firm. She held her bad arm under her breasts. She got on her knees in front of me and said, “Be careful of my arm, darling.” Then she bowed her head again and took the head of my dick in her mouth.I was ecstatic. Nothing had ever felt as good. Looking down incredulously, I saw her beautiful hazel eyes smiling at me merrily as she sucked my big, thick dick into her pretty mouth. I began to rock my hips up and down, fucking her mouth. Her good hand crept up my thigh and squeezed my balls.“Oh, fuck this,” I said. I got up and set her where I’d been sitting. She was more beautiful to me, sitting there with her legs pulled back, smiling at her son about to fuck her, than anything I’d seen before or have seen since. I grabbed my throbbing dick in my right hand. I was going to fuck my mother! I was going to be a motherfucker just like I’d been accused of being. I was about as far from being ashamed of it as I could be. I felt like the luckiest guy in the world.I could feel the individual hairs of my mother’s hot cunt touching the head of my dick as I guided it between her fat, olive-pink pussylips. When I stuck the head in her hole, Mom cooed, “Oh, yes! Stick that big, beautiful dick in Momma’s hot, hairy pussy. Oh, Micheal! Stick it in and fuck me. I’ve wanted this for so long.”I shoved my dick up in my mother as far as I could. Her heat and sweet creaminess was all the more delightful because it was forbidden. I was fucking my dear sweet mother, had my dick in her pussy, and I wanted to stay there for the rest of my life. Pumping my dick back and forth, in and out of Mom’s soft, wet twat, I heard the sucking sound that’s a soundtrack to sex. The sound itself turned me on even more. I looked down and watched Mom’s cuntlips cling to my dick. Her breathing was becoming quicker and uneven. I reached down and began sucking her rose-brown nipple while my hips continued driving my truck up her tunnel.I was sucking and fucking Mom enthusiastically, when I felt her start to spasm. She began moaning my name faster and faster, throwing her pussy up to meet my jabbing cock. Then she almost screamed, “Oh, God is Love! Micheal, fuck Mommy’s pussy. Oh, fuck Mommy’s wet hairy hole! I’m cumming! I’m CUMMMING!!”Pulling my mouth roughly off her tit, I straightened up and began kissing Mom’s mouth like we were horny kids in the backseat of a car. I pounded my cock in her cunt and French kissed her through her orgasm. When she was spent, I kept fucking her slowly. Her eyes looked into mine and widened. I smiled at her, kissed her lips briefly, and then, punctuating every word with a thrust of my dick into her honeypot, I said, “Mom, I hope you like what you started, because you’re mine now. I’m going to fuck you like you were my girlfriend from now on. Say it. Say this pussy is mine.”She put her hands on my biceps and wiggled her pussy from side to side as I slammed into it. “Oh, yes, darling. Mom’s yours now. Your Daddy’s gone, and you’re going to fill more than his shoes.” She laughed and then pulled herself up to my sweating body and began slapping her sopping cunt up to meet the rhythm of my dick. “Anytime you want to borrow a little of your Momma’s hot pussy, all you have to do is ask, sweetheart. All you have to do is ask.”Still fucking, but feeling my own orgasm rising, I laughed and said, “Why do I have to ask?”When I asked the question, Mom had been sucking on my right nipple. She pulled her face back and began running her fingers through my sweaty chest hair as my strokes in her steaming twat got faster and faster. “Because that’s the Law of Love,” she said. Just as I started shooting a huge load of cum up her gleefully incestuous cunt, Mom began chanting:“Give to every man who asks of you, and from him who would borrow of you, turn not away. Give to every man who asks of you, and from him who would borrow of you, turn not away. Give to every man who asks of you, and from him who would borrow of you, turn not away.”THE END

My world was turned upside down. Grandma and Grandpa were here for the week, and I had to stay at…

Pete had been friends with Steve since he had first graduated from college and gotten his first job. He remembered meeting Steve at his orientation to the company by the Human Resources Dept. Steve was one of the salesman who sold software for the company and was going to be a mentor to Pete as he started working also in sales for Eros. Pete was new to the city of Charleston, WV. In fact, he had just moved there from his home in Columbus, Ohio. Pete really wanted to get into writing his own programs as well as doing computer programming and architecture for businesses. The sales job was a way of working himself into the company. Hell, it was a recession and he was glad to have any type of job! Pete and Steve really hit it off. Steve was able to help Pete find out his way around town, set him up with an apartment, and show him both the highs and lows of Charleston, WV. Pete especially liked the lows that Steve had showed him– the strip bars, the adult bookstores and even a place that had a live sex show. One time Pete told a stripper that Steve was the person with all the money and that she should ask him for the money for a dance. Yes, getting financially started was a hard thing to do in a new city. It was quite a dance at that – as she spread her legs wide exposing her nude vagina several drops of moisture dripped down her slit and disappeared onto the floor below. This was the first of many trips to the adult entertainment places in Charleston. Steve was married to a beautiful women named Sasha who was 30 years old. The first time Pete saw Sasha was a reflection in a mirror in the hallway at their house. Sasha was 5’6″ with dark jet black hair cut in a way that made her look very tom boyish. Her figure was anything but tom boyish with well developed breasts, a tight rounded butt, and a slim waistline. Pete often wondered what she looked like beneath her clothes. Sasha was quite a contrast as far as looks– a tom boyish appearance with the body that any sculptor or painter would use for a model. Sasha greeted Pete with a warm handshake, hug, and greeting: “So your the new whiz kid whose out to conquer the sales world.” Her smile put him at ease. Pete thought how Steve was such a lucky bastard to have a woman like her. Pete advanced quickly in the company. He was soon named vice-president of sales. Pete then developed several unique computer products. This propelled him into the highest levels of management as well as made him very wealthy. Steve on the other hand had a tide of misfortune and his sales plummeted. Steve then began to drink. Pete ran into Sasha at the car repair shop. She was had been crying to herself. Evidently, her car needed repaired and when it came time to pay the credit card had been rejected. Sasha didn’t even have a way home. Pete quickly paid for the car repair. Sasha promised to pay him back. Pete could only think how he wanted her to pay him back. Sasha showed up to Pete’s place a couple hours later. Her eyes were red. Evidently, it had been a very bad day since a number of creditors had been calling with threats to repossess their house and belongings. Steve had even spent Sasha’s private savings without her knowledge. She was destitute. Sasha asked Pete if she could borrow some money and that she would be “willing to do any maid service around the house to help out and that she would also get a job to pay him back.” Pete asked, “Are you really willing to be my paid maid? Would you take a job where all your debts could be paid off?” Sasha responded quizzically, “It sounds as though you have something in mind. I just thought I could clean your home and maybe do some cooking.” Pete replied, “I’ve always wanted you as a sex slave that would serve my needs.” Sasha eyes grew very wide and she gasped in shock. “I could never do that to Steve. I really still love him. I’ll never do that! Can’t you even help out your best friend?” Pete quietly stated, “I’ve always wanted you as my own private sex slave, Sasha. I’ve desired you more than any valuable painting or other work of art. The situation is just right for my desires.” “You evil bastard. I’d never do anything like that. I love Steve.” Sasha angrily left. An day later the phone rang. “Pete, the bank is going to repossess our home unless we can pay the mortgage. No one will lend us any more money. I’ll do as you ask,” as Sasha cried.hard sexI told her to come over so that we could make the necessary arrangements. I then arranged to take care of Sasha’s and Steve’s bills a little at a time. I had Sasha tell Steve that a rich relative was going to help her out. When Sasha reported to my house I had her stand in front of a mirror and slowly remove her clothes. The reflection in a mirror showed some deep, dark brown nipples about 3 inches in size that came to pointed tip. As she bent and removed her panties I saw hair that grew up from her slit to her ass with some large protruding vagina lips. Sasha’s ass was round, well defined but small. As she turned around I saw a fairly hairy bush. Sasha had tears rolling down her cheeks. I then had her walk to me and away from me. I told her, “Walk like you are a hooker out trying to get some business.” Sasha then walked very sexily around my living room. Sasha asked, “Do you have to take a video of me doing this?” I replied, “Yes, now let’s see how many ways I can see that vagina of yours.” I saw her pussy as she stood over me, as she lay on the couch with her legs spread, on all fours with her butt in the air. Sasha’s vagina was now moist and her inner/outer lips were puffy. I had her play with herself. Sasha moaned, “Oh I’m about to come, please fuck me Pete.” “Sasha I want you to stop playing with yourself, take out your diaphragm, and come over her and suck my cock.” (that was wild erect and dripping with precum). “Oh, Pete I will get pregnant if I don’t use some protection. I am really fertile right now.” I told her that if she couldn’t do what I asked then there would be no money. I watched as she split her vagina lips and was able to see the back wall of her cervix. I then had her get on all fours as I mounted her from behind. Sasha felt Steve enter her in one shove. She pushed back into him and felt the tip of his large 10 inch cock hitting her cervix. Sasha grasped briefly in pain as Pete’s dick penetrated her cervix but waves of orgasm swiftly overtook her as she felt Pete’s cock throbbing and pounding her vagina. Pete soon shot his load deep inside her fertile womb. She then sucked him hard again. This time Pete took her with Sasha’s legs over his shoulders. Again, Pete emptied his sperm deep inside her womb. Pete had Sasha hold her legs up so that none of his sperm would leak out. Pete wanted to be sure to make her pregnant. Over the next several weeks Pete stuck his huge cock into Sasha and shot as much sperm into her as possible from as many different positions but always with one intent — to get Sasha pregnant. Sasha’s missed her next monthly period. When she did a pregnancy test it came out positive. Pete still had Sasha coming over to his to perform “housework” even though she was pregnant. Sasha’s nipples grew darker, larger, and became very sensitive. When Pete would suck on her luscious pointed pregnant breast she would squirt milk into his mouth and dose his cock with her vaginal juices as she repeatedly orgasmed. Sasha was hoping that her ordeal would soon be over even though she had signed a contract that would last several years. Her hopes where soon dashed when she heard Pete talking about her doing a gangbang with some well endowed black men after she had his baby. She shuttered when he asked if she “Would like to have a black baby?” Sasha’s maid service was only the beginning to satisfying Pete’s appetites.

I took some free days at home after a boring business trip.On these some days, my loving wife was sent…

“Wendy, I’ve told you before. You are NOT going out without a bra on, and that’s final,” said Wendy’s mother, Bea, as she caught her daughter sneaking out of the house for school. One glance at her daughter’s tight school blouse had confirmed that her fourteen-year-old daughter had not put one on, again.“Oh mom, c’mon, I’m late for school!” complained Wendy, looking down at her own chest – was it that obvious?“Not my problem. I told you before that you’re not to go to school without one.”“Aw, mom, no-one will know!”“Wendy,” sighed Bea, she’d been through this argument many times, “I told you before – you’re a big girl now. You can’t go out like that, it really does show.”“I’ll put one on tomorrow, promise. It’s just that I’m late now,” said Wendy trying to get away.“No!” yelled her exasperated mother and grabbed Wendy’s arm. Pulling her back into the hall she closed the front door firmly.“Look!” she said, pushing Wendy in front of the hall mirror. “Can’t you see?”“See what?” said Wendy in an annoyed, bored tone.At that moment, Mark, Wendy’s younger brother came through the hall on his way to school.“Nice tits!” he said, cheekily.“That’s enough of that!” called Bea at his retreating back. Mark slammed the door noisily.Wendy sulked in front of the mirror. Bea tried a conciliatory tone. “Look Wendy, it really does show.”She pulled Wendy’s tight-fitting school blouse in slightly at the waist making her breasts stand out even more. The nipples poked the material into small peaks. Wendy was large breasted, like her mother, and her breasts, that months ago had seemed like puppy fat were now becoming all too apparent as she slimmed down.“It’s my body – I don’t have to do what you say!” spat back Wendy.This made Bea angry – she had tried being nice with no result.“Wendy! You are NOT going out without a bra and that’s my final word!” she yelled.“Screw you!” hurled back Wendy.Bea looked at her daughter, shocked. Her daughter stood before her, chest thrust out defiantly. She had never heard her daughter use such language or that tone on her before. Enraged, she lashed out and slapped Wendy firmly across her breasts with her open hand. Wendy screamed in surprise and the stinging pain but was so angry with her mother that she slapped her mother back. Bea had not yet dressed and Wendy’s hand slapped her straight across her large breasts that were covered by nothing except the flimsy material of her night dress. The slap caused tears of pain to run down her cheeks. Bea was livid.“How dare you slap me young lady!” she roared and made a well-aimed slap connect with Wendy’s breasts again.Wendy clutched her chest in agony before launching herself at her mother with fury. Grabbing handfuls of her mother’s ample breasts she squeezed the flesh hard, making her mother gasp with pain as she pushed her back against the wall. In retaliation, Bea reached out and grabbed her daughter’s breasts, tearing open the buttons of her school blouse in the process and exposing the smaller, but well-formed breasts of her daughter.Now mother and daughter engaged in a battle of will versus pain. Staring defiantly into each other’s eyes they kneaded, twisted and pulled at each other’s breasts as pain seared through their bodies.Eventually, due to her superior strength, Bea began to get the upper hand. Sensing near victory she pushed her daughter to her knees by her breasts and leant over her, victorious. Wendy, sensing that she was about to lose her grip on her mother’s jugs, leant forward and bit into the flesh dangling before her. He mother screamed in pain.“You vicious little bitch!” she screamed and released her grip on Wendy’s young breasts immediately.Wendy savoured her moment of victory over her mother and bit harder into the tender breast whilst simultaneously reaching up and tugging viciously on the exposed nipple of the other. Her mother now sobbed in agony, begging her daughter to release her tender breasts from her clasp. Wendy was unsure whether to trust her mother yet and held on a little longer but once she was certain that her mother had given up the fight she let go and stood defiantly in front of her, her own sore breasts pointed naked and proud in front of her.Bea clutched at her reddening sore breasts, scooping one up to examine the damage left by Wendy’s vicious mouth. She felt a little faint as the waves of pain receded. Wiping away a tear she said, “You were always biting me when you fed from these too.”Wendy suddenly felt very guilty at what she had done to her mother. The woman who had given birth to her and had fed her at her own breast.“Oh mom, I’m so sorry….” she started, looking down at her mother’s exposed breasts that were reddening from the pummelling they had received at her hands. Instinctively she reached out to touch one, to make it feel better, but her mother flinched away as she reached out.“Oh mom, I’m not going to hurt you any more. I just wanted to make you feel better!”Slowly, cautiously, Bea dropped her hands from her sore and aching breasts as Wendy reached up to gently hold them. She gently stroked the area that she had bitten, her face wincing with imagined pain at the hurt she had just caused. Bea smiled and reached up her own hands to cup her daughter’s tender breasts and gently stroked the red streaked flesh better.Bea grinned broadly. “Look at us,” she said and Wendy had to laugh at the ridiculous sight they made in the mirror – mother and daughter, stroking each other’s bruised and battered breasts.“Come on,” she said, “Go and sit down and I’ll get some ice – you can’t go to school like that!”While Wendy went and flopped on the sofa, Bea went to the kitchen and fetched some ice that she rolled up inside a cloth. All the time she felt a strong throbbing ache from her own breasts.Kneeling beside Wendy she first told her to remove the ripped school blouse she was wearing. Wendy winced as she tried to undo the remaining buttons so Bea helped her daughter with it, undoing the buttons down to her waist then finally pulling it off her arms, leaving her daughter’s chest fully exposed. Gently she put the ice-pack to her daughter’s sore breasts and dabbed at the tender teats very carefully.“Ooh!” shivered Wendy. “Thanks mom. That feels really great – why don’t you try it?”She took the cloth from her mother’s hands and, slipping the ripped night dress from her mother’s shoulders, tended to her breasts with the ice-pack. Bea hung her head back, letting her long hair slide down her back and enjoyed the sensations of the ice-pack being gently moved over her full breasts. She could not prevent her nipples from becoming taught under the sensations, causing a frisson of pleasure and pain. Bea had thick, long nipples and in hardening they tugged at her breasts. Wendy giggled at the sight of them erecting under her ministrations; they were like two independent creatures. Playfully she brushed the back of her hand over one nipple, enjoying the rubbery feeling and the way it bounced back into position. Her mother winced at the sensation.“Ouch! That’s really tender right now!” she complained.“Sorry mom,” said Wendy. She looked down at her own nipples which had also hardened into two tight little nubs, but they were nowhere near the size of her mother’ immense teats. Wendy felt slightly envious and wondered if her own breasts would ever be as large as her mother’s. She suddenly had an insane desire to suckle at one of the rubbery teats and wondered if it was a hangover from when she was a baby. Did all children have a secret longing to suckle at their mother’s breasts again? She dismissed the idea from her mind and went back to dabbing the ice-pack on her mother’s breasts.“Mom….” began Wendy, coyly.“Yes dear? What is it?” answered her mother vaguely, eyes still shut.“Ummm, can I ask you something…?”“Anything….” breathed Bea.“Uhmmm…. Do I have to go to school today?”Bea opened her eyes and looked at her daughter sharply. Glancing at her daughter’s exposed breasts she saw that they still looked red and sore from her punishment of them. She felt a pang of guilt.“Well, no, my dear. But just for today until those get better.”Bea closed her eyes and hung back her head again. Wendy grinned happily and continued ministering to her mother’s throbbing breasts.Later that day the doorbell rang. Bea opened the door and recognised the woman immediately, it was Wendy’s teacher, Ms. Brahms. She was not smiling.“Hello Ms. Brahms, what can I do for you?”“Do you mind if I come in?”“Certainly not, come in and have a seat. Coffee?”“No. Thank you,” said Rachel Brahms coldly as she stepped past Bea and entered the living room.When they were both sitting Rachel came straight to the point, “Mrs. Lee, where is Wendy?”“Oh, in bed – she’s not feeling well today.”“Are you sure she’s really ill?”“Oh certainly, I… I examined her myself. Why do you ask?” said Bea, leaning forward.Rachel Brahms glanced down at Bea’s full breasts that surged into a cleavage in her low cut top. She couldn’t help noticing the red marks and this distraction flustered her slightly.“I… I wanted to check with you as Wendy’s taken a lot of time of school this year and I’m worried about her performance. Also, there was a more, uhm, personal matter.”Looking at Rachel, Bea could see she was somewhat uncomfortable. “Oh? And what would that be?”“Well, it’s a bit delicate, but could you ask Wendy to wear a bra to school in future?”Bea flushed. It was one thing for her to tell her own daughter to wear a bra but she resented this young teacher coming to her house and telling her what her daughter should or shouldn’t wear. She snapped.“What’s the matter? Can’t keep your eyes off them then?”Rachel’s eyes, which had once again slipped down to examining Bea’s enticing cleavage, flicked back to Bea’s face and for a face-reddening moment Rachel thought she had been talking about her looking at Bea’s own ample breasts. When she twigged she was horrified and stammered out an explanation.“Oh… oh no, I… I didn’t mean that at all! I simply meant that your daughter’s, uhm, well, breasts were a distraction to some of her classmates.” Oh dear, thought Rachel, this isn’t going at all how I imagined it.Bea sat up straight. She had noticed with contempt that Rachel had been ogling her own breasts.“I’m not so sure – you’re not exactly well stacked are you?” she said, cruelly referring to the small bumps in Rachel’s top. “Maybe you’re jealous. You certainly can’t seem to take your eyes of these,” she added, thrusting out her own full bosom.“I… I wasn’t!” stammered Rachel, blushing crimson.“Really?” said Bea and in one swift movement she had unfastened her top and her unfettered breasts sprang free.Rachel could not help but gawp at the magnificent sight of them. For the second time that day Bea felt inordinately proud of her breasts.“I… I have to go,” muttered Rachel, reluctantly tearing her eyes from Bea’s chest and standing.“Fine with me,” said Bea.Rachel rushed from the room and let herself out.As the door slammed Bea burst out laughing and Wendy joined her from the other side of the door where she’d been listening to the whole thing. Wendy too was topless; her breasts still felt too sore to be covered.“Oh mom, you were simply BRILLIANT!” she squealed and hugged her mother tightly.Naked breast to naked breast the two women embraced happily.

I need to put my mind at ease, somehow, yet my current situation seems to prohibit any kind of mercy.…

I tucked the present birthday inside the dresser drawer turned out the bedroom lights except for a single bedside lamp…

I want to start by saying that this is a true story to a point. I got scared and took…