Trisha was exhausted from travelling, she gladly dumped her bags on the floor and flopped down onto her bed. She was home from college for the summer. She would have gone with her friends on a wild party trip, as she did the year before, but everything had changed now. She couldn't leave her mother alone for the summer. As it was she didn't feel up to partying as her friends did anytime soon. Susan's death had hit her about as hard as it hit her other mother Jo.
Theirs was a strange family to other people, but to Trish - well, that was her normal. She didn't see anything strange about having two mothers. That's how she grew up. Jo and Susan had been a couple for twenty-six years, all of them happy. The only drama they ever had was the drama Trish caused, she had both of them wrapped around her little fingers since birth, the only arguments (they called it differences) they had were about Trish's discipline. As soon as Trish figured that out, she used it to manipulate her parents even more. Like any good child would.
She came from a stable household and by high-school she didn't care what people said anymore, they needed to look how badly they had stuffed up their own children before commenting on the morality of the house she was raised in. She didn't lack friends either, children are naturally curious and naturally accepting of a nurturing environment. Many of her girlfriends asked her mothers' for advice before they would even dream of asking their own.
Her life collapsed in on itself ten days before Christmas. She had debated coming home for Christmas but Jo had insisted, the whole family was going to be there. Her conscience won and she boarded a flight home that landed in a snow storm. Susan had driven to the airport to fetch her. Trish waited and waited and then finally called home, where Jo picked up. Susan should have arrived hours ago. Jo told her to have her name announced - to Trish's mortification - and then wait at the announcement desk until Susan found her.
Susan never arrived and Jo came out to fetch her as it was getting dark. They rode home in silence, the tension and worry showing on their faces in exact replicas of one another. The scowl around the mouth, the forehead drawn down into a frown and their sable eyebrows turning down at the inside corner. They were both worried. They began phoning around and Jo called the hospitals as well, but before they found out anything, two policemen knocked at the door and changed their lives forever.
There was no Christmas, only a funeral. Trish argued about going back to school but the family bonded together and just about forced her. She called her mother every night. The crying had slowed down to a weekly cry, but she could see her mom hadn't lived a day past that day. She merely functioned, like a body without a heart.
She felt like she owed her mom this summer, it was only six months down the road and she was still grieving for her other mother herself. She got up and went downstairs to where Jo was getting food ready in the kitchen. She noticed the half-full whiskey glass but she didn't say anything, she had gotten drunk herself a few times. Medicating the pain, it was a bandage, that's all. Hopefully with her here, Jo wouldn't need to medicate so much.
She helped her mom prepare dinner and they had a bottle of wine with their food. She didn't think she was such great company because the expression on Jo's face was still sad. After they watched some television, Jo announced she was going to turn in for the night. Trish kissed her mom good-night and flipped the channels, she didn't want to go to bed until Jo had finished crying, if she still cried every night. Trish didn't know, but she couldn't stand the soft sobbing that came from her parents room the previous December.
It was close to midnight when she finally made her way upstairs. She took off her blouse at the entrance to her bedroom and dropped it next to her laundry basket, too tired to care whether it was in it or next to it. She took off her bra next, Trish examined her breasts in the full length mirror on her closet door. She plumped her breasts and turned from side to side trying to decide if they were big and round enough. Facing the mirror again she tweaked her nipples into little hard points, yes, that looked better. She caressed her breasts softly as she admired them, they could have been a lot worse, like Bonny Scholtemeier she thought, little bee-stings that made her look twelve.
She shrugged her jeans off and standing in only her g-string panty, she ran a critical eye over her thighs and turned to see if her butt was still perky. She lowered her g-string seductively, as if she was stripping for someone. Daintily she stepped out of it and threw it towards the bin with her toe. She spread her legs and looked at her pussy, yes it was still smooth from yesterday's shave. Yes her pink little clit still stuck out like a little pink button when she pulled her pussy-lips apart. Once long ago she had accidentally seen her mother Jo's clit. It was huge and it looked very erotic to Trish, she had hoped her clit would eventually be as big as her mom's but it hadn't happened so far, even though she masturbated it regularly.
She was about to turn off the light and get into bed when she heard a faint creaking coming from down the hall. She turned off her light anyway and crept naked into the hall towards the creaking. It was coming from her parents - mom's - room. She crept up to the door and bent down to look through the keyhole. Her mouth gaped open in surprise. It was the bedpost that was creaking because Jo was holding on to it while she rode a stack of pillows with a blue vibrator laying flat in the middle. Without even thinking about it, Trish's hand slipped down to her pussy and she started to touch herself.
Jo was panting, and thrusting her pussy onto the vibrator, riding it back and forth. Trish watched Jo's big, round breasts bouncing as she was thrusting. They would slap together and then pull apart, she had brown nipples, big, brown, long nipples. Trish wished she could reach a nipple with her fingers and pull it and tweak it and suck it. She realised she was rubbing her pussy and spread her legs wider and bent them, she liked to rub herself vigorously, she loved rubbing her clit fast because it would get hard and then she would feel that feeling like her tummy was flipping, it just got better from there.
Jo was struggling, Trish could see it, mom was on the edge but it wouldn't happen, her face was squeezed together in concentration, it almost looked like she was in pain, and her knuckles were white around the bedpost. She heard Jo grunting and begging to cum, Trish felt her tummy flip and pussy gush and she groaned silently into her bent arm which she had stuffed against her mouth. She jammed two fingers into her cunt, and banged herself extending her climax. She only slowed her finger fucking when her pussy stopped clenching. She was trying to breathe as deeply and silently as possible. She didn't want her mom to hear her. When she could focus again she looked through the keyhole again. Jo had given up, she was resting her head against her hands on the bedpost. The lower half of her body was motionless on the pillows, but Trish could still hear the hum from the vibrator. She knew her mom hadn't cum, in fact it looked like she was about to start crying. Trish was torn between going in, which would embarrass her mother and knocking and going in, which could possibly embarrass her since her pussy was dripping and she was naked.
In the end she went back to her room, dressed quickly in a t-shirt and panty and then went back to her mom's room. She looked through the keyhole again. The light was off, she couldn't see anything. Had her mom heard her? That worrying thought kept her awake for another hour until she finally fell asleep.
Day two at home was rinse and repeat. Jo went to her morning job and then her art class and came home around three pm. Trish had made plans for the next day, she wasn't going to sit here and waddle around in self-pity.
"Shall I get take-out?" Jo asked pouring herself a whiskey.
"Why not? Get pizza mom, I'll run down to the store quickly and get us a nice bottle of wine."
"Get me another one of these," Jo said pointing at the whiskey bottle."I'll give you money."
"Sure." Trish said a little unhappily. Somewhere between her house and the store, Trish decided on two things. One - she was going to get her mother drunk and then she -Trish - would fuck her properly and make sure she climaxed at least five times. She was sure this battling to climax thing was a psychological thing. Well, no more. Secondly, she was going to find a fuck buddy for her mother. No strings attached; as far as Trish was concerned she was the only string allowed to remain attached to Jo.
Getting back home, she opened the wine to breathe. Then taking a deep breath herself, poured her mom another whiskey and took it to the kitchen where Jo was making salad.
"Are we eating early?" Trish asked. Jo shrugged as if she didn't care.
"You've lost weight mom." Jo looked at her, Trish had noticed the night before through the keyhole, it didn't seem as important then.
"Apparently widows and widowers do lose weight in the first year."
"It's psychological." Trish said.
"What do you mean?" Jo asked.
"Everything, the whole grieving process, it's all so psychological. Do you know what I miss? I miss her voice. Just hearing her voice could make me happy, sad or glad - or mad." Jo was looking at her, trying to process what her brain had long understood.
"I miss her voice too." She said finally.
"When a master calls his dog, the dog reacts to his master's voice. When your lover whispers in your ear, your body reacts to your lover's voice."
"That's true." Jo said softly, as if it hadn't occurred to her. What Trish had wanted to add, but couldn't, was that Susan's voice was the catalyst to Jo climaxing. She would have to learn to climax without it. She put plan one into action after the pizza had been delivered and devoured. She hogged the wine and made sure Jo's whiskey tumbler always had an inch of whiskey in it. It wasn't long before Jo had passed the self-pity state of drunkenness and had moved on to the 'what-the-fuck' stage where she didn't care about anything anymore. Trish attacked.
She started off by tickling her mom until her mom was lying on the floor laughing more than Trish was and threatening to pee in her pants. Trish helped her up and into the down stairs bathroom. While Jo was peeing, Trish shed her clothes quickly. When Jo managed to look up her daughter was standing in front of her naked. As Trish had hoped, she didn't react, Trish pulled her mother's blouse off over her head. Jo was drunk enough because she didn't even ask why. When she was done Trish told her to take her pants off instead of pulling them up. At this point Jo seemed to realise something was going on.
"Why?" She asked and giggled. Trish giggled back.
"So that we can play a game, come on it's going to be fun." She would tolerate no further resistance, turned Jo around and unsnapped her bra, then pushed the straps off her shoulders and let it fall on the floor. Trish pressed herself to her mother's back and slipped her hands around her waist. She nuzzled her in the back of her neck and let her fingers trail across her mother's breasts, caressing them softly. As she had hoped, Jo relaxed and let her head fall back onto Trish's shoulder. A small moan escaped her lips.
Trish moved her fingers to her mother's nipples and she began to play with them, coaxing them into long hard points.
"Do you like this game Mom?" She whispered in Jo's ear as she turned to nibble on an earlobe.
"Awe..." Jo sighed and moaned at the same time. "I don't think..." She began.
