Falling Ch 09

Chapter 9, In which I am not such a bad girl

It was weird enough to be having an impromptu dinner party with my estranged parents, but I'd just found out my girlfriend, Stacey, was scheming to restore my access to the family trust. Daddy and Mommy had cut me off after I'd moved in with my deceased brother's gay boyfriend -- they weren't what you'd call broad-minded.

If that wasn't enough excitement for one night, I'd just confessed to Stacey that I'd been having a long-distance affair with a stripper in Texas named Jenny. Stacey was the jealous type, and my revelation hadn't gone over well. The only reason she hadn't completely lowered the boom on me was that she was juggling so many things at once.

Stacey could do magic, you see. It had something to do with hair, and some sort of special "lip balm" she had, but done right, she could skew what people saw and thought, or even wanted. I'd tried it once, but only managed to turn Jenny and myself into sluts.

Just at the moment, my parents were seated at our dinner table, either not noticing or not caring that everybody except Stacey was naked, and masturbating instead of arguing. Daddy didn't think much of anything I'd done the last few years, so he'd been doing a lot of jerking off.

Stacey and I had been talking in her bedroom; she'd used a new trick I'd never seen that left me falling all over myself to confess my history with Jenny -- doing anything Stacey asked felt

way

better than masturbation.

Our roommate, Michael, finally looked in to see what we were doing. There was a lot of tension between him and Stacey, mostly centering on me. That was because he loved drilling my asshole with his stiff cock, and she didn't like sharing me. Stacey couldn't complain too much since she was the one responsible for confusing him into thinking he was fucking my brother, Peter, when he cornholed me.

Also, Michael was Stacey's sponsor at their "Mind Controllers Anonymous" self-help group, although frankly I wondered if the pair of them hadn't fallen off the wagon, so to speak. Since I'd had like a hundred times as much mind-blowing sex since meeting Stacey as in my entire life before,

I

wasn't going to complain; what consenting adults did was their own business.

"You're going to do

everything

you can to make sure you regain access to your trust, right Linnea?" Stacey not-quite-asked as she helped me to my feet.

I nodded eagerly, anxious to try somehow to make up for my betrayal and express my love and devotion to her. The jolt of arousal that accompanied my agreement was a bonus.

Michael eyed my disheveled condition. "Are you sure you're okay, Linnea?" They'd probably heard me screaming.

Stacey patted him on the shoulder, palming a hair and transferring it to her mouth so skillfully that only somebody watching her closely -- like me -- could see it happen. "She's fine. Why don't you go back and keep Peter company?" Her mouth twisted into sort of a smile. "That horny bastard's probably jerking himself off now that you've been out of sight for 15 seconds!"

"But--" My mouth froze under Stacey's wilting stare, and closed with a quiet sigh of pleasure. I watched Michael blink slowly and begin hardening as he considered what she'd just told him.

He grinned and disappeared in the direction of the kitchen.

"Stacey!" I gasped, once we were alone again. "Daddy will

kill

Michael! Why did you do that?"

She smiled at me, but it didn't reach her eyes; clearly I wasn't forgiven. "Didn't you tell me your father's inability to deal with your brother's homosexuality was the reason for your family problems? I think once he works through that, he'll be much more comfortable with us."

"Well..." I couldn't really fault her logic, but it still seemed a bit mean-spirited, even if Daddy probably deserved it.

"I

want

your father and Michael to really get to know each other," Stacey emphasized, evidently growing a little impatient with me.

"Oh!" Maybe they would end up killing each other, but once she'd put it that way -- "Okay." Agreeing felt so good it was easy to ignore the feeling I somehow was being disloyal to Michael.

This time Stacey's smile looked genuine. "Let's join them, shall we?"

I hurried along behind her, hoping she'd ask me to do more things.

That turned out not to be a problem. If I'd been teasing Daddy and Mommy earlier that evening, it was nothing compared to what happened after we returned. Stacey seated herself at the head of the table, and commenced ordering me about as if she were the Queen. I, of course, was only too happy to comply with her every request, and my parents were too distracted by Michael to pay much attention to us.

Michael's cock stood rigidly at attention, its tip glistening with precum, as he moved about to refill everyone's coffee cups. Daddy and Mom clearly were a little uncomfortable with the display, especially because Michael had a certain look in his eyes, which remained resolutely focused on Daddy the entire time.

Between sensuous licks of Stacey's toes, I watched the storm intensify. Daddy scowled at Michael and fisted his meat, which only excited Michael more, which prompted Daddy to stroke himself more urgently. Their pas de deux was punctuated by occasional faint squeaks from Mom.

I forgot to breath, or lick, waiting for the inevitable explosion. Stacey appeared equally interested and didn't reprimand me for my lack of enthusiasm.

Finally, Michael reached out to grab Daddy's cock. "C'mon, Peter; I can help you with that," he grinned.

"You..." snarled Daddy, his face dark and angry, and then he suddenly paused. A look of confused horror and pleasure crossed his face, and he spurted several jets of semen onto an excited Michael. It frankly was rather impressive, considering his age and the fact I knew he'd cum several times already.

"You're a nasty boy," Michael leered, and stroked himself briefly before returning the favor. Since he was younger and fresher, and standing up, Daddy got a generous coating of spunk across his chest and face.

Mom's arm trembled like she was having a seizure. "Oh my God!" she gasped, before staggering to her feet. "This is obscene!" She jerked again and then stumbled from the room.

"I don't think she's ever masturbated," I whispered when Stacey looked at me.

Stacey appeared at a loss for the first time since I'd met her. "What

is

it with your family?" she muttered under her breath, before addressing Daddy more forcefully. "Gay sex is pretty hot, isn't it? You were wrong to take away Linnea's access to her trust, and you want to give it back, right?"

Daddy stuttered, "N-n-n--" and started fisting himself again, harder than ever. Then my view was blocked when Michael leaned over and kissed him, right on the mouth.

I gaped at them until Stacey nudged me with her foot.

"Go find your mother. Fucking show her how to jill off; demonstrate if you need to." I nodded eagerly, feeling like I was in heat. "You can let yourself cum once after she does, and again when she agrees to release your trust fund."

It seemed a bit, well, mercenary, to keep focusing on the money, but I knew it meant a lot to Stacey. It nearly broke my heart to think Mom had lived her life without experiencing the joy of a good self-induced orgasm, and I mentally kicked myself for not thinking of her plight sooner. I would have been lying if I'd said the prospect of having permission to diddle myself didn't excite me, too.

Mom was looking around the living room, probably for her clothes, when I caught up with her. She whirled to face me, tears in her eyes. "Linnea, why are we acting this way? What's happening to me? It's so" -- she struggled with the word -- "wrong!" She panted, hands trembling uselessly at her sides.

"Oh, Mommy!" I thought about hugging her, but she flinched. "It's not wrong; people masturbate all the time -- you should try it." I demonstrated by sliding a finger into my slit, which nearly made me jump. I was dying for relief anyway, and the knowledge that Stacey wanted me to do it ratcheted my arousal even higher.

"It feels

so

good," I urged, working the finger deeper and using it to transfer moisture to my clit, coating it and my rings until they gleamed. "Look; it's not so hard." That was unnecessary advice, as Mom was staring at me like she was seeing me for the first time. I caressed my breast, but regretfully left my nipple alone -- just a brush told me any more contact would set me off, and it was too early.

"You look like a little girl!" she exclaimed, eyeing my bare mound. "And those rings! It seems -- sluttish," Mom said. She was big on elliptical arguments, preferring to avoid outright confrontation. "Sluttish" really meant "totally inappropriate and not something my daughter should be doing, much less myself." Regardless, her hand had drifted near her bush, but she was poking at herself the same way she'd use a broom to dislodge a dead spider from a window.

She was just so weird sometimes. "It's not sluttish," I protested, trapping her hand in mine. I guided it to the juncture of her thighs, getting only token resistance, and rubbed it along her cleft several times. Her eyes widened, but she didn't pull away, even when I levered her index finger deeper and pressed it firmly where her clit should be.

"Oh!" Mom gasped, and I grinned. She sounded like a kid who'd tried a bite of something new and found it tasted better than expected. I moved her hand a few more times, and she kept stroking herself after I let go.

"It feels good, doesn't it?" I panted, stroking myself again to demonstrate. It really did, but when I layered on top of that the pleasure of helping Mom, and the arousal of doing what Stacey had ordered, it was nearly orgasmic. I really wanted to jam a finger or three in my ass, but I wasn't sure Mom was ready for that.

I took a deep breath and gently guided her towards the sofa. She twitched, perhaps thinking I was going to try something else, but let me sit her down without any resistance. Mom's finger didn't miss a beat. I sprawled happily in the armchair, making sure she could see everything I was doing, and resumed pleasuring myself.

Daddy shouted something from the dinner table, but the living room was quiet except for the liquid sounds of our fingers. "I can't believe you never got yourself off," I told Mom.

She raised her eyes briefly to my face. "It's not very ladylike," she demurred, but I noticed her finger started going a little faster.

Whether it was solely Stacey's magic, or Mom was getting into it, or a little of both, I decided to treat the situation like one of my phone sex calls with Jenny. It didn't take long for me to forget myself entirely and just let the memories and fantasies spill from my mouth.

"...and he was packing a bulge like you wouldn't believe! I mean, my ass was just aching for him! I was

so

tempted to follow him into the men's room, but my connection was tight and his wife looked pretty territorial. Not that she wasn't pretty tasty-looking, herself," I sighed.

Mom squirmed on the couch. "Oh my God," she whispered in an unreadable tone of voice, never taking her eyes off my dripping slit.

Did the thought of making it with a woman make her hot? I could sympathize with that! Smiling to myself, I shifted my monologue. "Yeah, she was wearing those yoga pants -- you know the skin-tight ones that hit really low on your hips? She couldn't have had more than a thong on underneath it, and I bet she was shaved." I moaned at the thought of how sexy a bare girl was; so did Mom.

"It's just so hot to see a clean pussy," I breathlessly continued. "The way a girl's smooth skin feels under my tongue -- it just draws me in. I can eat out Stacey for hours." I was so wet I had to stop and suck on a dripping finger. "If that woman hadn't looked like such a bitch, I bet I could have turned her gay -- or at least bi -- without even trying."

The mental image of the nameless woman writhing on my tongue superimposed itself over Mom, and I started to buck. Just as quickly, she morphed into a stern-looking Stacey and I jerked my hands away, feeling unsatisfied and hotter than ever. I was being a good little slut, but I wanted to cum badly and Mom

still

was holding up the show.

"O-oh, Linnea," Mom gasped, "When did you stop being the daughter I raised? You never" -- she had to catch her breath and force the word out -- "used to do things... like this." Her face was red and her body glistened with sweat, and she arched away from the seat beneath her in an unconscious attempt to bury her hand more deeply within her.

"Like jill off?" I laughed. "Mom, I started doing that when I barely had anything to shave down there!" She looked stricken, and I thought she was going to orgasm, but didn't quite make it. "Oh yes, I'd pull up my demure nightgown late at night and diddle my juicy little cunny with a finger or then a little candle, holding a pillow over my face so I didn't make a sound."

It hadn't been the happiest time of my life. "God, I was so screwed up! I spent my high school years convinced I was going to go to Hell for doing something

everybody

was doing." I loved my parents, but I realized this had been simmering inside for a long time. I stood up, channeling some of my energy into nervous pacing.

"I'd like to go back in time and tell that girl not to be afraid. I'd love to taste her creamy little gash and show her how to use her body and enjoy it without fear." I glanced at Mom, who looked like she'd forgotten how to breathe. "I know a girl who was Purity Club Vice President; I sucked on her cunt while a guy took her anal cherry at the same time! Not so pure now, eh?"

Mom looked like she was cumming her brains out, joints locked and trembling violently with her hands trapped between her legs. I knew Stacey'd be happy, but just then I was still caught between my wave of indignation and happy memories of Jenny, the ultimate Forbidden Subject.

"I have orgasms every night. I love being with other women as well as men. I've fucked people I didn't know or wouldn't even recognize again. I've done it in public, and in groups, and even used the missionary position once in a while. I admit it -- I'm a slut, and I like it!"

Hands on hips, I stood in front of Mom and stared at her. "But that doesn't make me a bad person, Mom. I'm still the same daughter you had, and I still love you and Daddy just as much as ever. But I'm not going to hide the way I feel, like Peter did." I spread my glistening labia with one hand and deliberately inserted two fingers deep inside myself. "And if I feel like getting off, I'm not going to hide in my bed!"

"Oh! Linnea!" Mom gasped brokenly. Her wide eyes followed every slightest movement of my hand. "You'll always be my little girl, Sweetie. It's just..." Her body tensed and relaxed again, and then she licked her lips. "You're so forward!"

I smirked, thinking of Jenny. My pulse quickened, and I twisted a ring, applying delicious pressure to my throbbing clit. "We're all sluts inside, Mom. Masturbation's the least of it! I heard other girls talking back in school, and it's even worse, now. You know how early girls lose their virginity?" I thought about Jenny and I finding another girl, but the image stubbornly kept morphing into an imperious Stacey.

Mom looked from me to her hand, which was trembling in the vicinity of her thigh. "They

fuck

in high school?" She made the question sound more like a statement, and even now I was surprised to hear her drop the F-bomb. Her hand darted to her slit like a frightened animal seeking refuge. "That's so -- huh -- wrong!"

It became clear how things were going to go. "I wish I'd experimented more," I said, honestly. "There were a few girls who were, you know, like Stacey." Abbie Givens had been Goth before it was fashionable, and there'd been whispers. The thought made my insides clench.

"With other girls?" Mom panted, obviously aroused. "The little sluts! Did they sh-sh-sha-shave -- Oh my God!" She was eyeing my bared mound with obvious desire.

Sure, I'd do anything for Stacey, but that didn't mean I was excited about the idea of making it with my own mother; that was just gross. I wasn't sure if Stacey had planned it that way or not, but Mom apparently had discovered a way to break through her mental block against self-gratification.

Now I just had to think fast enough to get her thinking about something besides me. "Do you think Daddy was right to cut me and Peter off from the trust?" I asked, mentally holding my breath.

"Oh, yes, Sweetie," she answered automatically, just as she'd always supported him, and then she thought about it, fingers slowing. "Well, no. No, it seems wrong."

I smiled as she started getting into herself again, and I knew I was going to be cumming soon. "Isn't it right for Daddy to do that if he thinks I'm a bad girl? The kind who sleeps with other women, shaves herself, and gets pierced? A slut with absolutely no morals?" Actually, I had plenty of morals, but Mom's face was beet red and she was whipping up lather between her legs.

Mom threw her head back, her eyes glazed but still watching my bare slit, where I was matching her stroke for stroke. "Fuck! Fuck! No, no matter how nasty! It's too harsh!" She exhaled explosively on the last word, climaxing again.

My legs felt like rubber, but I wasn't quite done. "Will you come and tell Stacey that, right now?"

Her eyes grew wide, and for a moment I thought I'd blown it. "Like this?" She gestured vaguely at herself, and I had to admit she was a sight. Her normally well-groomed hairdo was a distressed, sweat-soaked mess, red blooms decorated her face and chest, and her crotch reminded me of a hair-clogged bathtub drain. "Why not?" she smiled, surprising me and climbing wearily to her feet.

She surprised me again as I turned to exit the room. "Mom!" I wriggled away from the hand on my ass using a move I'd perfected in bars during my college years.

"Oh, loosen up, Linnea," she told me when I looked back at her. "Isn't that what you were telling me?"

"Not that loose," I retorted, suppressing a mild shudder.

Mom's smile was tinged with regret. "Maybe it's too late to start over with you, Linnea, but there must be other--" The pair of us stopped dead in our tracks and gaped.

"I -- am -- not -- your -- boyfriend!" Daddy shouted. He punctuated every word with a pile driver thrust of his cock into Michael's ass. As we watched, another water glass toppled and rolled off the table. Stacey sat calmly at the head of the table, capturing it all on my phone. "Fucking homo! You've destroyed my family!"

"Hypocrite!" Mom screamed, freezing everybody. "I see the reports of your sluttish behavior are not overblown, after all," she added with a biting sarcasm I'd never heard from her.

Daddy looked confused, which was new. He opened his mouth, but no words came.

"I certainly see no reason we should not grant Linnea's request for her trust money," Mom continued in a calmer, if no less determined, tone of voice.

Stacey smiled approvingly and I collapsed in a wave of ecstasy.

"Absolutely not!" barked Daddy, barely audible through the roaring in my ears. Michael moaned, too, I think.

In contrast, every word Stacey spoke reverberated through my being, urging me to crawl faster to my rightful place between her legs. "I think you'll change your mind, unless you want this video to go viral," she threatened. "Linnea's been such a good girl; surely you won't deny her her due?"

Thoughts of the rest of them already had fled my mind. I looked up at my beautiful Stacey, filled to bursting by the sound of her luscious voice. A tiny nod was all the permission I needed to thrust my head under her dress and worship at the fount of her womanhood. I felt light-headed, suffocated between her thighs, but I was exactly where I wanted to be.