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.
