"God! I hate that new librarian!"
Nicole blustered in through the kitchen door, a flustered flurry of vivid maroon and black clothes against pale, freckled skin, startling her mother reading at the table. The frustrated not-quite-twenty-year-old flung her backpack into a chair across from her mother and dug through it, still whinging.
"She just wouldn't leave us alone! All morning, Priya and I were in the private booths trying to--" Nicole flushed as she caught herself, "--erm, study." She found the book she wanted from her bag and retreated into the den.
Morgan smiled at her daughter's clumsy lie. She well knew of her child's voracious sexual predilections, but as Nicole had never confided them to her, Morgan continued to pretend ignorance: Her daughter was just a normal college girl, concerned in her studies and curiously uninterested in the attentions of her male peers.
Morgan folded the lingerie catalog closed and thought, "I shouldn't need this anymore--we're both adults." She pulled her fingers out of her low-rise jeans and sucked the glinting fluid from her fingers. She turned to pursue her daughter.
Pausing at the door, she let her eyes crawl across her little Nicole, a slender, waifish dream all tarted up and perched on the couch in an obvious huff. Her clear, blue eyes, framed in waves of golden hair, were focused studiously on the complicated text in her dainty hands. Little crimson lips mouthed the words thoughtlessly as she concentrated, and her long legs were drawn up underneath herself, sheathed in sheer, black hose. Her little maroon dress with its narrow ruffled skirt, did little to hide the curve of her firm, round butt, but the tight, cinched corset did wonders to accentuate her naturally tiny waist and accentuate her ample bust cresting the low neckline of her dress in soft, lightly freckled mounds. Her daughter usually wore a meshy, black shirt with the punkish outfit to not look "slutty", but it had thankfully gotten much too hot to layer.
Too hot! Morgan strode into the room, fanning herself.
"It's so warm today, Nicki. I don't know how you stand it!" She didn't bother looking at the thermostat, instead reaching down to strip the gauzy, floral-print shirt from her body. As Morgan pulled the garment over her head, she felt the pleasing weight of her generous breasts swing free of their confines to slap against her hard-earned physique. She flicked a red lock of hair from her eyes as she tossed her top beside her daughter on the couch. Catching a glimpse of herself in the midday reflection on the television, she smiled: Full, pouty lips, crystalline blue eyes like her daughter's with a more sly look of maturity; two drapes of short-cropped red hair, pendulous, lightly tanned breasts over a slim, just-visibly-toned body, and a smart little ass tucked into tight, dark denim. She breathed in satisfied. She still had the body of a conscientious twenty-something which, though she had had Nicole quite young, had passed longer ago than she wanted to admit. Morgan glanced back to see the effect her little show had on her daughter.
Nicole was still bent over her book, brow furrowed in concentration. Morgan bit her lip in thought. She knew that her daughter liked her type. Her "close friends" that spent so much time alone with her in her room all had big breasts and, though she clearly tended toward dark meat, she had brought home church friends that were even fairer than Morgan. She straightened her black cat's-eye glasses, as her daughter's conquests implied a bit of a glasses fetish. If her daughter had been frustrated at the library, then she should be in quite a state after her mother's parading herself in front of her. Perhaps Morgan had overplayed this hand, often "unknowingly" teasing her daughter with impossibly small bikinis and revealing pajamas. Her hands were running idly across her breasts as she considered her options, when she noticed the glint of a thick rod growing underneath her daughter's sheer stockings. She smiled again.
Though not present in Morgan herself, her family had a strange biological quirk. A particularly phallic quirk that she knew Nicole shared with her sister and mother. She had seen Nicole's little penis as a child, but as Nicole came to realize her uniqueness, her mother had been increasingly deprived of those rare viewings just as it was getting most exciting, but she knew it must be terrific by now. She had often shared in her sister's member. Many nights of wild, youthful abandon, spent luxuriating with her massive cock. So frequent and prolonged were their couplings that, in her uniformed youth, Morgan had worried that baby Nicole was the child of her incest.
Her daughter's arousal evident, Morgan lowered herself to the floor: There was nothing but to go for it. Struggling to concentrate on her reading, Nicole did not react until her mother's mouth was wrapped around the fat knob of her prick. Her body went rigid as her mother held her dick fast. It twitched and throbbed in response to Morgan's deft tongue's licking through the gossamer hose, but Nicole made no verbal response. Morgan well knew the whirlwind of conflicting thoughts within her daughter from when Morgan's own mother had seduced her when she was just a bit younger than Nicole--just coming into her own sexuality and her mother hungry for release one lonely night. Morgan ran a canine lightly along the fabric, a hole stretching open in the tight legging and letting Nicole's penis slide into her mouth, more fully caressing it with the action of her tongue. All her daughter could manage in the defense of the status quo was a feeble:
"Mom--"
