You return to the quiz bowl drilling already in session. Usually, Ms. Carte would lambaste you for taking so long. Between your little drink date with Kay and your dinner date with Sable, it's been well over an hour since you've left. But your parting love confession has left a sugary warmth in your teacher's heart and a dopey grin on her face -- she can't even pretend to be angry at you right now.
You take a seat beside Vivian, and resume the question-answering marathon. Except you're not invested in it. You need to come up with a birthday gift, and fast -- that's your overriding priority. You whisper so that only Vivian can hear:
"What did you get Whitney for her birthday? Anything?"
"Of course," Vivian whispers back. "I have already informed her that her present is waiting for her back in Gilroy."
"What is it?" You ask. "...Can it be from both of us?"
Vivian gives you a displeased glare. "Do you believe, that Whitney will believe, that we went halvsies on a Camaro?"
She deserves props for using a slangy word like "halvsies," at least. But her refusal to lie about the gift's provenance leaves you in the same position as before. Then another disaster:
"Hold on a moment," Vivian says, "if you have forgotten to get Whitney a present, that means you almost certainly have forgotten to get me a present as well."
"That is a shoddy logical inference," you say, trying to play on her level.
"Not at all. Alabaster Soliloquy, I am beyond hurt. Not so long ago, I gave you the most precious gift of all: my virginity. I allowed the blood of my maidenhood to trickle down your turgid erection, all so that you might have the fleeting joy of a masculine orgasm. And this is how you repay me for breaking my body on your manhood?"
Accusatory words, but she says them with a grin. She was expecting you to forget. And what she's describing turns her on.
"I'll let you do the whole mistress thing, if you tell Whitney the car is from both of us," you promise. "That can be your present."
"You will do the 'whole mistress thing' regardless, as reparation for your horrible mistreatment of me."
Ms. Carte finally notices your back-and-forth whispering session. "Do you two have something you want to share with the rest of us?" She asks, tapping a foot.
"No," Vivian replies curtly. "You may proceed."
Ms. Carte sighs. "Only if we have your permission."
"You do."
"That was sarcasm," Ms. Carte tells her.
"I am well aware. My response was not."
Ms. Carte and the others continue.
"Well," you say sadly, after some moments have passed, "if I can't be the co-joint giver of a brand new car, I'll just have to give Whitney something else."
"Indeed. And it had better be good. I will punish you if you let her down."
"Oh, it will be good," you say, as your loop an arm around Vivian's waist under the table.
"...Alabaster?" Vivian says, voice catching. Not so haughty all of a sudden when you highlight your size discrepancy like this.
"Shhh," you coo. "Don't want anyone to hear, do you?"
Your hand snakes into her skirt, across her soft inner legs, and under her butt.
"What are you d--"
She chokes on her own words as you poke a finger inside -- right into the warm, grippy confines of her anus.
"I didn't buy her anything," you whisper. "So I'll just have to give you to her, instead."
Vivian trembles. Although the two sisters have been in a sexual relationship for some time now, and although it's something of an open secret within the group, Vivian is still hush-hush about it. She won't agree with or argue against your plan, because she doesn't want any of the others overhearing discussion about such a sordid thing.
Which means that you get to finger Vivian Darkbloom's butt in peace.
With your ring finger embedded up to the third knuckle inside her, it's a snug fit. You can hardly wiggle it around at all. The heat emanating from her interior is swampy and fervid. As you toy with her, you feel your palm becoming wet; her pussy is drooling from this gentlest of abuse.
"Jerk me off," you whisper.
She finds your cock inside your pants, and wraps her dainty fingers around you. Now this is the high life: molesting a hot bitchlet like Vivian while she plays with you in return, during a rousing round of trivia. You can still answer the questions coming your way, perfectly fine. But all this unexpected and intense sexual tomfoolery has left Vivian a mush-brained idiot. When Ms. Carte turns to her and poses the question: "who founded the Tokugawa Shogunate?" -- Vivian, face droopy and twitchy, can only mutter: "d-dick..." in response.
"Dick who?" Whitney says, assuming Vivian is right, and that some guy named Dick founded an ancient Japanese kingdom.
But Ms. Carte swiftly moves on, gleaning what her daughter doesn't: that Vivian's mind is completely elsewhere for the moment.
Alex is more perceptive than Whitney, too. He grins at you. "Hee. Ally, you're so dirty."
And Rose, ditto: "Child molester," she says -- half contemptuously, half warmly.
"Vivian is the dirty one here. Dirty bitch..." You use your other hand, briefly, to fishhook her, pulling her cheek away from her teeth even as you ruthlessly fingerblast her asshole. You were hoping the briefness of it would only let Alex and Rose see -- but Ms. Carte's eyes draw up at precisely that moment, and she sees, too.
She's well aware that you've been fucking Vivian. But being confronted by a brazen sexual display such as this is something entirely new. She clears her throat, blushing, and glances away. Whitney, for her part, reads trivia questions, oblivious.
Over the next few minutes, you simply enjoy the naughty pleasure of fondling Vivian in this semi-public space, amid your friends and loved ones. The conference room is windowed, and although the view is only to the first-floor hallway outside, any random hotel guest could definitely walk past and see.
As it turns out, a not-so-random hotel guest walks by -- and into the room. David Darkbloom enters, still wearing his team shirt, carrying a box of donuts.
"How is everyone doing?" He asks, peppy, and apparently oblivious to what's happening under the table. Vivian's eyes are glassy. She looks half-uncomprehendingly up at him as she spreads her legs just a little wider for you to get even better access to her rear hole. She picks up the pace of her wanking, and you feel yourself mounting that apex. She wants you to really get inside her deep while her father's in the room with you.
"I brought donuts!" Darkbloom announces, to general approval. "I wanted to make sure you keep enough glucose in your systems that your brains don't starve -- like this one here." He points at the ahegaoing brain on his shirt, smiling. That thing has become a favorite of his, it seems. He sets the box on the table. "What do you say, Vivian? You're looking a mite tuckered out already."
"Yeshhh father," Vivian says, as underneath the table she gyrates on your invading finger. You add your pinky, spreading her open even wider. The spongy softness of her insides combined with her teasingly light grip around your prick, combine to dunk you into a sea of electric erotic pleasure. Without forewarning, you pop off -- and ejaculate in her rapidly fapping little hand. You mask your guttural grunts of pleasure by pretending to clear your throat.
Vivian has no sooner finished bringing you off than she flicks the lid of the donut box open. She uses the same hand she just used to milk your cock. She selects one of the two dozen enormous donuts inside, a plain glazed, and thankfully no one seems to catch that her hand already had some extra glazing on it before the fact. She begins to eat, with uncharacteristically enormous bites, cooing to herself as she enjoys the delectable mix of sugar and cum.
"Don't be shy," Darkbloom prods the rest of you. "Help yourselves!"
You all dig in, too. And at the same time, you continue to dig into Vivian -- fingering her baby asshole for the rest of the night. By the end of the quiz drilling, Vivian is basically a puddle of goo. She's a swoony, sweaty mess.
You half-lie to Whitney and Ms. Carte as the team clears out, telling them that you'll help Vivian upstairs. It's true that you intend to help her upstairs. But you won't take her to the suite she's sharing with her dad. And you won't bring her up for a little while yet.
Instead, you escort her across the street -- to a local Walgreens. There, you buy some chintzy gold-leaf ribbon and a package of bows.
Enervated from being used for so long, Vivian's mental acuity isn't quite up to snuff, and she doesn't understand what you're doing. "What... is the meaning of this?" She asks as she stands beside you at the checkout, her skirt rumpled, her thighs visibly wet in the bright lighting. You pay up without responding, handing cash to the disinterested cashier, and lead her outside again.
"Strip," you tell her.
She doesn't question you. Doesn't protest or dither. She strips. She undoes her skirt, and pulls it down, then takes her blouse off too. You're glad she wasn't wearing anything particularly elaborate tonight -- and that she she wasn't wearing underwear. She kicks off her flats, too. All of these articles she hands over to you, right there outside the Walgreens. And so she stands stark naked in the middle of a Boise parking lot.
"Happy birthday, by the way," you tell her.
"Thank you." She reaches behind herself and fingers her own little ass -- missing your gentle molestation, you guess.
You set her clothes on top of a nearby concrete post, and begin the work of wrapping Vivian up. You work quickly. Though it's after 1 AM, and though Boise's a sleepy little city, you're standing outside a 24-hour drugstore after all, and someone could easily happen upon the sight of you getting frisky with this young girl.
Your wrap-job covers only what is legally required to be covered in public. A strip of ribbon around her chest, to just barely conceal her nipples. Two more strips of ribbon in a V that extends from her crotch up to her shoulders, meeting again behind her back. A final little spool of ribbon secures her wrists together, behind her back. You put a giant gold bow on her head, and another on her navel. All wrapped up and ready to tear into.
Her discarded clothes hanging off one of your arms, you loop your other arm around her and walk her back to the hotel. She needs the support.
Though sparse, there is some passing traffic -- she gets honks and catcalls aplenty. Rather than make her embarrassed, the attention makes her proud, and her body flushes with excitement. In 421 or 422, it's just the same: Vivian Darkbloom is a pervert, and she likes to flaunt it. Her cunt leaves a snail trail of arousal down her legs... and across the grimy sidewalk on the trip back. She turns the head of the receptionist at the front desk of the Ramada Inn, too, who gasps and covers her mouth as you pass. You just wink at her as you stride towards the elevators. Vivian smirks. Her wet cunt is making the bits of ribbon over her crotch all transparent and sticky -- the folds and crevices perfectly well visible by now, especially in the light.
Upstairs, you fire a quick text to Whitney, asking her to come to your suite. You've got the room to yourself -- kinda -- sharing it only with Alex for the duration of the trip. You know he won't mind letting you have a little fun on the Darkbloom sisters in his vicinity, if he's still awake to witness it. But you find him conked out when you get back.
You figured Whitney would be up. She's always all abuzz with excitement on the night before a big day like the one you've all got coming. Only she doesn't respond to your messages, even when you send her a lewd photo of Vivian on your bed on all fours, face pushed down into the pillows, waiting for her. Time to take matters into your own hands.
You and Vivian go to Whitney's room, the one she's sharing with her mother. Rather than knocking, you let yourself in -- you've got Whitney's spare room key -- and check on the belated birthday girl. She really is asleep, shocker of shockers, and so is her mother. They're curled up with one another, snoozing soundly, wearing nothing but panties. The sight of it makes your cock lurch. But you suppose this was a chaste (albeit kind of strange) sleeping arrangement. They're not bashful around each other, and it doesn't look (or smell) like they've been fucking. They haven't *ever* fucked -- not yet anyway. You know that they're both horny for it. They just need a little nudge.
Maybe tonight can be that nudge.
"Whitney... hey, Whitney. Wake up."
Groggily, she stirs. She turns in place, still entwined with her mother, and glances up at you -- at Vivian, too.
"Happy birthday," you tell her. You smile winningly. "You're legal now... your sister, not so much."
Her face lights up with unrestrained joy. She rises to her butt. Her little B-cup tits are cast in soft relief by the dim light from the room's entryway, the only illumination. Her plain white panties are soft-looking, too, especially at the dimple left by the cleft of her pussy mound. "Oh my god, Ally," she hisses, glancing her younger sister over, "you wrapped her and everything."
"What are you waiting for?" You ask her. "Open your present."
"Open me," Vivian parrots.
Whitney looks uncertainly back at Ms. Carte's sleeping form. Ms. Carte is a heavy sleeper -- she probably wouldn't come to even if SHE was the one getting fucked, a fact you know quite well. Whitney knows the way Ms. Carte can sleep, too. You've spent many evenings fucking Whitney's brains out, just outside Ms. Carte's bedroom door, and her snoring never faltered.
She's not as confident about doing it in the same room, though. Nor comfortable with the prospect of getting caught with her fingers in the cookie jar of her little sister's pussy. So although her wolfish eyes can't tear themselves away from Vivian's petite, underdeveloped, and underconcealed body, she can't muster courage for the next move.
So you nudge her along.
"You thought I forgot. Didn't you?" You say, as slowly and sensually you stroke Vivian's back. Whitney watches your hand's transit -- up and down, up and down -- up and much, much farther down... your fingertips skirting the edges of the ribbons, then poking underneath, to prod the treasures hardly hidden there...
"Of course I thought you forgot," Whitney says. "You were the only one who didn't say happy birthday to me today--"
"He did forg--" Vivian begins, but you cut her off by sticking two fingers in her mouth, and gagging her. She heaves and sputters, unable to fend you off with her hands still tied behind her back.
"You know I like to keep people in suspense," you say. "How do you like the present, though?"
Whitney grins. "I dunno. I haven't opened it yet."
You pull her slowly from the mattress by her hands. She rises to her feet, taut body flushing with taboo excitement. The taboo of incest -- and this new taboo, of doing it in such close proximity to her mother, too. Whitney takes Vivian's face in her hand. Just one hand, clasped around Vivian's chin, can almost entirely encompass her face. Whitney has to stoop down to kiss her. A kiss Vivian returns with low, whorish giggles. They start to tongue, getting right into it, these perverted sisters. They've been like this for months. They're insatiable for each other. It's adorable, and it's also really fucking hot, too -- both at the same time.
"Open me... open me..." Vivian moans.
Whitney's answer comes between kisses up and down Vivian's face, neck and shoulders. "Hmmm... but it's technically not my birthday anymore... I should wait another year, shouldn't I?"
Vivian's counteroffer comes paired with her trying desperately to rub her body against Whitney's. "If you wait a single second longer... I will be forced to force myself on you..."
But Vivian lacks what is known in the biz as leverage, and Whitney knows it. And Whitney loves to tease. She tickles the little bee stings that Vivian calls breasts, rubbing her fingers against the rough-hewn material of the ribbons. The motion scrapes and irritates Vivian's highly sensitive nipples, making her throw her neck back, and grit her teeth and groan in her adolescent way. Whitney does this until she can see the circular red burn-rashes spreading. By then, Vivian's eyes are streaming joyful tears of masochistic lust. Satisfied with that, Whitney traces her fingers southward now, to join yours. Your digits dance nimbly around together, to rub and titillate and torture Vivian's orifices as a duo. You and Whitney each get an index finger in Vivian's twat, and spread it -- then she goes for Vivian's asshole, while you tickle Vivian's clit -- then you hold Vivian's fuckholes like a bowling ball while Whitney lightly slaps Vivian's totally smooth and hairless labia. With you behind her, and Whitney in front of her, Vivian is pinned; you force her to remain standing against this wanton misuse. She's so fucking wet that you and your partner in crime have no trouble at all getting as deep into her as you please.
You kiss Whitney softly -- you and her have enough height on the brat trapped between you that doing so is no problem.
"Love ya, Ally~" Whitney mewls. "Thanks for the present... so which one of us do you wanna cum inside?"
"I love you too," you tell her. "But Vivian's your toy tonight. I just want to watch for now."
"Perv~" Whitney says, mewling again. "Gonna jerk off while I rape my sister?"
"Of course."
She giggles.
You stand aside and let Whitney guide the young heiress down to the diamond-patterned carpet in front of the bed. She lavishes suckling kisses all over Vivian's tiny body. Watching this toned tomboy looming over her anemic little sister and doing these lewd things is enough of paradise all on its own that you wouldn't ever need anything else. But you've got plenty else -- such as a buxom MILF sleeping close by, who you know will join in with the right incentive.
You strip fully nude, and settle in on the bed. The spot where Whitney was so recently asleep is still warm with her body heat -- and slightly damp with her sweat. You nudge Ms. Carte. She flops from her side onto her back. Her udders shift and then flatten slightly, like beanbags dropped onto concrete from a great height. She, too, is slightly damp, all over -- a night-sweater, if ever there was. All the better for some late-night paizuri, right?
Whitney and Vivian are so enmeshed in their little world of incestuous carnal pleasure that neither notices you mounting Ms. Carte to fuck her tits. You slide your pulsating dick between the meaty crevice of her titmeat and press the two jugs together from either side, using your fists. No synthetic dicksleeve was ever this soft, spongy, smooth and hot. No rubber onahole ever enveloped your dick's every little pumping vein so deliciously. You could fuck Ms. Carte's tits forever. You thrust like a dog on heat, just enjoying this titfuck for its own sake, momentarily forgetting that your object is actually to wake her. If she wakes, she wakes. If not, you can have enough fun just masturbating with her slumbering body. Your prick's mushroom head pistons in and out across the top of her breasts, smearing her chin with cockleak.
Ms. Carte is no Rip van Winkle, after all. She finally does come awake from this act of sexual assault. Her eyelids flutter open. At first confused, then lustily interested, and finally worried -- her face runs through a panoply of emotions as she realizes what's going on, then subsequently realizes it's happening in the hotel room she's sharing with her teen daughter.
"Al-- Alabaster--" she whispers. "You... b-b -- Whitn--"
You put a finger to her lips, as your cock batters her chin. "She won't notice."
Ms. Carte glances to the side, looking for her girl. Nada. You helpfully rise up to your knees, so Ms. Carte can see between your legs, down to the floor, where Whitney and Vivian are even now hungrily sucking on each other's holes like their lives depend on it.
You let her watch for a couple lingering seconds. Then you lower yourself again, and seat your dick in the meaty confines of her wet tits once more.
Ms. Carte is so aghast that she cannot form any words whatsoever -- can only blush, and blink rapidly, and breathe heavily.
"You knew that about them -- didn't you," you prompt, keeping your voice low. You saw your cock in and out of her cleavage with brutal relentlessness.
"I..." Ms. Carte begins, but can't finish, and trails off. Finally she just nods.
You enjoy fucking her massive tits for just a few more moments before moving on to the next thing. Sliding lower, you tug her panties aside and ram your turgid prick into her cunthole. You don't give her any foreplay because you don't need it. Lying atop her in the missionary position, you nuzzle her, and whisper in her ear as you fuck: "you're really wet tonight."
She nods.
It's true that's she's really wet. Well, that's an understatement. She's incredibly, soppingly, oozingly, drippingly wet. Your cock is inundated with her feminine arousal as you fuck on top of her. It spatters and squelches while you hump. Your nostrils fill with her deep, musky and womanly scent. You know this wetness of hers is partially from waking up with your cock in her face. That always gets her dripping. But it's also because she just glimpsed her daughters 69ing. She is, same as Whitney and same as Vivian, and same as always, a complete pervert.
"Do you think about her -- about Whitney?" you ask Ms. Carte.
"Like... like that, you mean...?"
You nod. Ms. Carte's pussy around your dick clamps down, an orgasm rolling through her body. You stroke her fever-hot face with the back of a palm.
"This is wrong..." she says timidly. But merely being accused of thinking sexual thoughts about her biological daughter made her climax. And even now, her surprisingly tight quim is fluttering around your invading fuckpole.
"Then let me be the bad guy," you tell her.
"What?"
You reach for the spool of ribbon and the package of bows you left strategically on top of the bedside table. You hold them up to show her. "It isn't wrong if you're forced into it, right?"
You punctuate your question with a few extra-deep, powerful thrusts into Ms. Carte's cushiony interior. She shivers, and cums again.
---
"Fuck, Viv... fuck, I love your pussy... so cute... so fucking cute..."
Whitney is in that phase of her sexual excitement where she begins to mutter half-incoherent obscenities, more to herself than to her partner. She gulps hard as she licks and sucks her kid sister's cunny. She blows cool little puffs of air on it, then moans and kisses and latches her entire mouth around it -- rinse and repeat. Occasionally she travels a bit lower, too, and sucks on Vivian's asshole just for the the added thrill.
You have to poke her in the head with your toe to grab her attention.
She slowly cranes her neck upwards, her eye-line traveling up your calves, your waists, your hips and torsos. There you are, and there's her mother, too. You remain naked, but Ms. Carte is all wrapped up. Hands behind her back like you did with Vivian's, ribbons biting into her prodigious hips and meaty cunt, two humongous bows over her huge nipples.
"Ally-- oh FUCK--" Whitney begins -- having a hard time processing this new obscenity, given Vivian's busy tongue still working underneath her. Whitney cums hard on her sister's face, practically drowning her with slop, while Ms. Carte stands there watching.
"This one is a present for the both of you," you announce, loud enough for Vivian to hear. But Vivian doesn't register it. She just keeps rooting her tongue around inside Whitney, lapping at Whitney's cream. You clear your throat.
Whitney clambers to her feet, and finally now Vivian, purple-faced and dripping girlcum, can see everything too. Although Vivian still wears some tatters of the bows and ribbons she was wrapped in, her hands are fully free -- cut loose so she could put her fingers to use inside her older sister. With no small difficulty, she props herself up, and stands as well.
"My MOM?" Whitney barks. "Oh my God, Ally... you fucking freak!"
You wouldn't dream of doubting your play here, protest though Whitney may. You know that Whitney and Vivian are both horned-up, and more than willing to add their Mom to the mix if it means the chance to cum even harder. But Ms. Carte remains uncertain. She gazes hard at the floor, shaking like a leaf in a thunderstorm.
You sit her down at the foot of the bed facing the two sisters. Standing off to her side, you stroke your dick, rubbing it against Ms. Carte's supple body too -- against her cheeks, her shoulder, her breast, leaving little dribbles of precum all over her left side.
Vivian is the first to jump on board with you. "This gift -- is meant for me, also?" She asks, taking a hard breath in the middle of the sentence. Still worn out from getting her face sat on.
"Happy birthday, Vivian," you tell her. "Fuck this bitch to your heart's content."
Vivian wipes strands of matted, cummy hair from her face. She looks levelly at her surrogate mother. "Do you consent to this?" She asks.
Ms. Carte nods slightly, but can't make eye contact.
"Whitney ejaculated on me -- as you can see. Would you like to kiss me, Ms. Carte?"
Ms. Carte answers by whipping her head up to finally meet Vivian's gaze with wild eyes, and leaning in to the deep tongue kiss Vivian offers. She licks all around inside Vivian's child-sized mouth, sucking her own daughter's cum from out of it.
Whitney is woozy with shock and excitement. "I... oh my gosh, Ally... oh my gosh!" You know she must be truly taken aback, now that her typical profanity has dissipated into goshes. You delight in keeping Whitney on the back heel, sexually... but this takes the cake by far.
You whisper firmly in Whitney's ear: "I know you want to -- so do it."
That's all it takes.
Whitney, as if in a daze, crawls onto the bed beside Ms. Carte. Ms. Carte stares sidelong at her, even throughout Vivian's devouring kissing.
"Ally's such a fucking perv -- isn't he?" Whitney says. She gulps. "Making us -- do this together..."
"Yes," Vivian agrees. She'll play along: "What a nasty man, forcing us into this immoral tryst..."
You'll happily accept the blame. Ms. Carte turns from Vivian's face now, towards Whitney's, and kisses her too. For the first time, their lips meet not as mother and daughter but as lovers. Their tongues dance around and meld, and little strand of their spittle drop over their pressed-together boobs, unheeded. They moan sweetly into each other. All the while, curious and debauched little Vivian pets Ms. Carte's drippy kitty.
"Is it wrong to say..." Ms. Carte begins, her breathing jagged, "that I always wanted this?"
Whitney dispenses with the guilt and shame. "Let's fuck, Mom."
She nudges Ms. Carte onto her back. As if working with one mind, Whitney and Vivian each take one of Ms. Carte's thick thighs, to spread the woman's legs akimbo. Settling down on their tummies, brushing their hair behind their ears, the two teen girls take turns showering Ms. Carte with a lengthy, lewd, and loving oral service that has her screaming in no time. Out of courtesy to the other guests in neighboring suites, you silence Ms. Carte's caterwauling by putting your penis in her mouth. It's the considerate thing to do. Ms. Carte swirls her tongue around your meaty shaft, but for maybe the first time ever, it's not the focal point of her lust. Rather, her precocious little girls are. She watches desperately as they suck the orgasms wetly out of her. When Whitney, chin dripping cream, looks up and says: "Your cunt tastes so good... Mommy..." that cinches it. Ms. Carte gives the last of her resistance away, and starts to buck like a bronco, squirting hard all over the place. Whitney, gulping all the cum up, adds with a dreamy voice: "it smells good, too..."
It becomes a whir after that. Whitney mounts her mother's face and starts to ride -- while meanwhile you fuck Vivian's barely post-pubescent cunt right in front of the pair. Another first for Ms. Carte, then: the first time seeing Vivian get penetrated by a dick. It's so overwhelming to her -- licking Whitney's clitty while watching Vivian get nailed -- that she cums even without anyone giving her swampy pussy attention.
Then another swap: you get Whitney on her belly, with you atop, mounting her well-muscled butt and hugging her slender body for purchase. You fuck her like that, a rough, fast-pounding speed-bump that presses on her cum-button just perfectly. Vivian and the good doctor eat each other for your amusement while you rut.
It's the fulfillment of what you knew already. Once the floodgates are open, there's no closing them. When you finally blow a creamy load inside Whitney's uterus, it doesn't stay there long -- she props herself up on some pillows, spreads her legs wide open, and enjoys mashing Ms. Carte's face into the creampie. Vivian, sitting on Ms. Carte's back like a child on a pony, assists -- clutching Ms. Carte firmly by the hair. And Ms. Carte, without use of her hands -- they're still ribboned-off behind her back -- has no choice other than to suck it all up.
The three, then, take turns fellating you. They kneel in front of the bed as you sit there -- swapping your dick back and forth like the only controller for a video game. You get to enjoy the wonderful experience of comparing and contrasting their blowjob techniques again, at long last. There's Whitney's eager, gagless deepthroat that feels like fucking a pussy; Vivian's tiny, wet, gagging little esophagus that sticks to your cockflesh; Ms. Carte's warm, sloppy, almost motherly tongue-on-dick massage. When and where you cum is immaterial. Whether it's inside Vivian's gullet, or on Ms. Carte's face, or into the bowl of Whitney's tongue -- your next few loads end up getting swapped between them all regardless. And all the while, moaning, they molest each other's holes. And all the while, they tell each other such nice things -- things like -- "I love you so much" and "I love this dick so much" and "make me cum, Mommy, please..." and so on.
When at last you're all cummed-out, all of you -- you collapse. It's past 4 AM and you all need to be awake quite soon for the quiz bowl. Oh well. No rest for the wicked. You know that there's truly no going back from this. This swan dive into utter degeneracy is irrevocable. From now on, Ms. Carte is a woman who fucks her little girls. And her little girls are little girls who fuck their mother back.