Wendy awoke to the sound of the front door slamming. A moment later she heard the family car purr, and crunch gravel as it rolled slowly down the drive. Daddy – her wonderful big, handsome, strong Daddy – was going to work. She stretched luxuriating in the heat of the sun coming through the blinds on the window, and thinking how nice it was to sleep late.
What were the girls at the home doing now? she wondered. No doubt some were mopping the floors others cleaning the filthy toilets and rec' room. But there were still others, those like Crazy Inez, who'd be waiting for the new shipment to arrive, waiting to see the new girls peel for the degrading strip-frisk.
"Wendy…?" Mummy appeared at the door in her underwear. She scowled. "I don't know what they taught you at that home, young lady, but you don't stay in bed all day in this house. Just look at yourself."
She looked down at her body. There was nothing so terribly wrong – except she was naked. "Is… is there something you want me to do?"
"Ha! You better believe there's something I want you to do!" Hands on hips, feet wide apart and black pussy showing through her white panties, Mummy continued to scowl. "First you can put some clothes on your butt – lying around like that! Have you no shame?"
Stop being so mean! she wanted to holler; you're always picking on me! But she had never been able to talk back to her mummy. It was one of the reasons the Ogdens had found it so easy to have her sent to the home. Once Mummy had taken their side, believing the terrible lies Lew told, it was almost impossible to get in a word edgewise.
Stifling a sob that was part anger and part childish regret, she eyed the woman from whose womb she'd come. They had never gotten along. Ever since the first drop of blood had seeped from her pussy, changing her overnight from baby Wendy into a woman, Mummy had treated her horribly – almost as if she were jealous. She didn't know why it should be, but everyone seemed to be envious of her sweet little body.
"Well?" Impatiently Mummy tapped her bare foot.
"I… I'm coming," she whispered, hitching the sheets up and over her belly, to her breasts.
"Don't take all day about it. Because after you're dressed you're gonna clean this house from top to bottom. In case you've forgotten, everyone here does their share."
Bitch! You're worse than Crazy Inez! thought Wendy as her mother turned from the door. Yet she found herself thinking what a nice big ass Mummy had, speculating on how good it could go with Daddy on top, or a broomstick, mop handle or Coke bottle shoved up one of her holes.
By lunchtime every muscle in her small body ached. But no sooner had she sat down to rest than Mummy appeared, and shot her a critical look that said, Get your ass off that sofa! And when her belly began to growl, protesting over a breakfast of orange juice, driving her to the kitchen to make a sandwich the horrid creature appeared to watch and give new orders while she ate.
Finally, all the floors mopped and waxed, the furniture dusted and Wendy as limp as the dust rag, she went to her room to strip before taking a shower. But she had no sooner stepped out of the dirty jeans then Mummy was there. "You're not done!" she snapped, breathing as if it were she who'd done all the work.
"Oh…!" Wendy stomped her small foot. She was furious, madder than she'd ever been in her life. "You… you're just a mean, dried-up whore, and you hate me because I'm prettier and younger than you."
Immediately the words were out of her mouth she was sorry. She watched her mother's face go from stern to ugly, and knew she was in for it. Her heart raced. Her nipples grew hard in anticipation of the beating she was certain was coming. She didn't know why the prospect excited her. She knew only that Mummy was staring at her in the same way the matrons had stared before ordering the switch to discipline naughty girls. "I… I didn't do anything for you to holler at me," she added, in a small, frightened voice.
Before she could throw up her hands to cover her face, Mummy was across the room and on her, slapping, pulling her hair. She tasted blood at the comer of her mouth, and felt blows that stung like the lash of the belt the night before. She staggered back, stumbling until her legs met the foot of the bed, tripping her onto the mattress.
"Call me a dried-up whore, will you?" A knee shot between her legs, hurting her pussy and knocking the breath from her lungs…
Wendy tried to fight back, to push the woman, who was bigger and stronger, away. It was like trying to struggle out from under the horny girls at the home: too much like it! She suddenly realized that Mummy's crotch was tight against hers, rubbing the pain of the kick away. And her hands! Her hands were crushing her titties, holding her down.
"You let me go," she cried, pumping her nylon-clad hips up into the pedal pushers, hating her mother but loving the friction caused by the rough material grinding against her wet panties. "You… you lesbian!"
The straining body above her went rigid. The color drained from her mother's face. "I… I'm not."
"You are too," Wendy yelled, recalling the fake wrestling matches at the home, where the bull-dykes tricked the new girls into giving up pussy. She recalled too how Mummy used to enjoy spanking her ass; how she used to lift the dress high, yank off the panties, and smack and smack and smack… but not too hard, making it last. "That's why you wouldn't let Daddy visit me at the home," she continued. "You… you're a dumb old bull-dyke! A queer! And that's why Daddy's always got a hardon!"
She didn't care that the truth enraged Mummy: she welcomed the sting of the hand that whipped back and forth across her face. She was used to being beat up by the older girls at the home, those who took what they wanted. And now she was boss – she could see it in the tearful blue eyes above her. The deep lines in the brow of the attractive face, the features so like her own; said she'd won no matter how much Mummy protested. She used the knowledge as she'd done to get her way with the matrons and Doctor Bruce.
"Mummy don't!" she gasped, pressing hard against the pussy bruising her crotch. "My… my panties are coming off. Don't look. Don't!"
As anticipated, the blue eyes widened and swept down the length of her arched body. The struggle had worked the nylon low on her waist, exposing the silky red curls below her cute belly-button. She watched her mother's expression change, and felt the wide hips between her wide-spread thighs begin a slow, sensuous grind. "You can do it to me if you want," she whispered, tiny fingers searching for the zipper at the seat of the pedal pushers. "We… we can fuck like the girls did me at the home."
"No! I… d-don't talk to Mummy like that."
Wendy fucked her behind round and round off the bed. Opening her pants, she splayed her hands over the huge, trembling buttocks. "I know you want to. I bet you wanted to even before I went away."
"You mustn't. We… I…"
"Shhhhhh…!" It was as if she were the parent, and Mummy, her face all squinched up with shame and desire, were her little girl. But there was nothing little about the soft halves of her bottom. They were like cotton basketballs covered with satin. She found the waistband of the panties, and watched Mummy's mouth drop open as she traced the deep crack.
"Wendy! Wendy! Wendy!" The wide hips bucked uncontrollably when Wendy's slender finger burrowed through hair and sphincter, into her mother's asshole.
"Bull-dyke me, Mummy. Take off your clothes 'n' rub your clit against mine. Hurry, Mummy."
"Don't! Don't call me that."
"What?"
"Mummy! I… call me Cynthia."
She supposed the request had something to do with Mummy feeling guilty about wanting to screw: grown-ups were dumb that way. She'd experienced almost the same thing late one night when nice old Mrs. Hamilton sneaked into her bed naked, and made her hush up when she said "matron". But names weren't important: she knew Mummy was Mummy, no matter what she liked to be called. And the new named was pretty – Cindy! She said it, breaking the syllables, making it sweet. She pushed the pants and panties down the full thighs, clutched her mother's fat ass, and humped and humped her red pussy up off the bed.
"Babylove. Um! Ummm! Ummm!" Cynthia stopped pretending when their pubic hair met. Her hands moved to the girl's waist, then lower down, cupping the small, tender buttocks. Cunt to cunt, she closed her eyes and rubbed.
Wendy too closed her eyes, thinking back to the very first time she'd felt kinky girl-hair down there. It was on the day she arrived at the home, late that same night, while she lay shivering and trying to forget what Doctor Bruce had done to her mouth and belly. She recalled the way the bed shifted as Crazy Inez and four others surrounded her. She felt Mummy's hard clit stabbing between her cunt lips, and remembered how she'd opened her mouth to protest and how one of the girls – she couldn't remember which one – stifled the cry with her hand while the others got her spread-eagled. She remembered the shame, the fear; how she thought for sure she'd die of embarrassment because of the awful things they did; how they talked in excited whispers about her hot, hairy holes, kissing all over down there, fingering her while she lay helpless.
Suddenly Cynthia shifted. She moved low on the bed, until her mouth was on the red wedge of pussy hair and between Wendy's little-girl thighs. Her wet tongue lashed out.
"Ow! Ow!" Wendy clutched at her head, the expert lips taunting her cunthole. For a moment she wondered where her mother had mastered such things. She felt the tongue swirl and dart, lapping greedily. She felt it wash the crack of her ass, and flick into her puckered anus. She felt the hands splayed on her buttocks begin to massage, rubbing the halves of her bottom together, opening and closing the moist holes. It was as if she were being eaten by one of the girls back at the home, as if Mummy herself had done time there, and had learned all the tricks…
"Take off these darn panties. They're in the way." Cynthia knelt. Taking hold of the bothersome undergarment, she yanked downward, tugging the nylon off the girl's trembling legs.
Wendy watched her, raising up to help but recalling what her mother had said earlier about having no shame. She glanced down at her wide-spread legs. She couldn't feel shame any more – not after the year at the home, where she'd been sucked and abused in every way imaginable. Now she could feel only the tiny pink bud in her vulva, the swollen, greedy mouth of her cunt. Her gaze settled on the thick bush between Mummy's thighs, the black contrasting starkly with the creamy white of mature loins. Her breath quickened. Her belly began doing somersaults inside. It was horribly wrong – all of it; she was a good girl, and should indeed feel shame at the mere thought of the doubly perverted incestuous union. Yet she wanted the furry black muff in her face. She wanted to smell Mummy's pussy, drink her cunt juice. It was the hole her daddy had fucked in to make her, and she wanted to know every inch, every luscious fold.
"Take off your clothes too, Mum… Cindy. So… so I can do you."
Mummy paused to stare down at her. Her blue eyes were glazed, hungry. "I… I haven't done anything like this since college," she said in a husky voice. "We… there were three of us who roomed together on campus, and one, Diane, had a clit as big as a little boy's dickie. We only wanted to see, to compare. I was too dumb to know about girls like Di, about lesbian sex. I was still cherry."
Fascinated, Wendy sat up. Her hands helped Mummy undress, moving lovingly over the mature contours, that were flabby in places but nonetheless appealing. "Oh Mummy… I mean Cindy," she whispered. "It… it must've been horrid for you, not knowing and all. Like me. Like when Lew raped me, and then the awful bull-dykes at the home."
"Um!" Cynthia's cunt dripped cream down the inside of her thigh. "I didn't want to at first," she continued, staring off into space as if remembering like Wendy had remembered moments before. "But Judy, the other girl, talked me into getting down there for a look. My clit was so small, and Di's was so big, and Judy's too, that I thought maybe there was something wrong with me! So I looked. I went down while Di lay naked on the bed, legs wide apart. And then Judy – oh, she was a bitch! A dirty slut! Judy fell on my back, rubbing her cunt on my ass and mashing my face into Diane's stinking queer pussy." Her melon tits popped free of the last garment. She offered one of the rubbery brown peaks to Wendy.
Mouthing the nipple that tasted of salt, and was twice as big as the pinkness at the tips of her own breasts, Wendy wrapped her arms around her mother's waist, and sucked her. They knelt together, four trembling hands exploring buttocks and thighs. The girl cooed, thinking how alike they were despite the difference in age and temperament, the black cunthair and the red. She forgave everything now. Her face was raw from the beating, and the blood was beginning to crust at the side of her mouth. But Mummy had suffered the same indignations, the same perversions she'd been subjected to at the home. It formed a bond between them, she thought; a secret tie.
Then she stopped thinking. Because Mummy's hand was cupped at her little red pussy; she was being eased back onto the bed. "Sixty-nine," she breathed, guiding the heavy woman thighs astraddle her face, gasping as the tongue returned to her agitated slit.
"Eat Cindy," gurgled the open mouth, drinking the juice from her cunthole. "Suck Cindy off!"
"Oh, yes. Yes! Yes!!" Using two fingers on each hand, Wendy spread the fat cunt lips, closed her eyes, and began sucking the pussy. She planted her feet on the bedding, lifted her ass, and slapped her cunt into the face that had reprimanded her so sternly mere hours before. Now they were equals: Cindy and Wendy! And there would never again be cause for shame in her life, she felt certain.