Ms. Carte cocks her head and looks at you quizzically. "Is something the matter?"
"Other than the fact that my cum is going to cause Armageddon?"
"Yes."
"Seems like everything I do is a mistake. Whitney, Cerise, Vivian-- I always say the exact wrong thing." You don't know why you're revealing this to her, but it seems as good a time as any.
Ms. Carte sets Damon's file to the side and slides closer to you on the living room couch. She puts a reassuring hand on your knee. "Things are a little hectic right now. Just ride it out. I'm sure that they'll come around if you don't press things."
You look from her delicate hand resting on your leg up to her face. She smiles back. Drawing her closer, you peck her on the lips, but stop yourself short: "does that X-11 stuff work both ways? Sometimes I feel like I'm addicted, too."
Ms. Carte giggles. "Hmm. Maybe. Do you want to get a fix together, my fellow junkie?"
As you kiss her more deeply, you get the odd sense that the two of you are not the only ones in the room.
Never breaking the kiss, you push Ms. Carte partly supine as you tug at her blouse. She kicks off her socks and unzips her pants, trying to disrobe as quickly as possible.
Your lips trace a path from her mouth down to her chin and neck, and further down still, to her naked chest. She arches her back then falls flat underneath you, letting out a a high-pitched, adoring whine.
"Don't make me wait," she says. "Just fuck me. Fuck me, fuck me..."
"Are you two going to do this every night?" comes Mom's voice from the entryway.
You and Ms. Carte freeze in place, still locked in an embrace. Mom flips the wall switch, turning on the overhead light. Blinking from the sudden illumination, you and Ms. Carte squint at her.
"Err-- hi Mrs. Soliloquy. D-did we wake you?"
"Tonight, and last night, and the night before."
She steps past the threshold and approaches the couch where you're still hunched over Ms. Carte's body. You can feel Ms. Carte's embarrassment from the increase of her body heat. You pull away and sit against couch's back. Ms. Carte gropes around on the carpet to grab her clothes and cover herself.
"Honestly," Mom says. "What do you see in this slut? She's just some drunken old maid..."
"Who the hell are you calling old, grandma?" Ms.Carte yells. She swings her legs over the edge of the couch and sits forward. She clutches her pants against her tits to cover them -- but doesn't seem to realize that her pussy is on full display.
"And just look at that chest," Mom says. "Pitiful. Did you stop growing when you were 14?"
"Only a cow like you would think these things are small!" Ms. Carte tosses the garmet aside and stands. Her tits jiggle as she does, and she's right: calling those delicious round knockers "small" is hard to fathom.
Mom glances from Ms. Carte to you. Only now do you realize that your erection is evident even through your denim jeans.
"And on top of everything else-- she leaves you in need like that--"
"I WAS taking care of him, before you so RUDELY interrupted me-- hey, what are you doing?"
Mom kneels down before you, despite Ms. Carte's protests. She peels her shirt off of each shoulder in turn, tugging it down so that it bunches up around her tummy. Her enormous breasts come free. As it turns out, she wasn't wearing a bra.
"Mom--"
"Shh. Don't worry about that awful woman. I'm going to take care of you now."
You watch quietly -- as does Ms. Carte -- while Mom pulls a bottle of baby lotion from her pocket. She flips the cap open and pours a generous amount on both her tits, using her free hand to rub it in. They shine under the light like something laminated.
With a thumb and forefinger, Mom unzips your pants. She fishes a hand into the fly, and suddenly you feel her warm fingers wrap around your aching dick. She pulls it free.
"Oh, look at it throb... how dare she leave you so frustrated... she has no idea how to treat you right, does she?"
Ms. Carte sits next to you. Her eyes are fixed on the lascivious scene below, but there's still a trace of anger in her voice when she says: "come on, Alabaster... I thought we were going to fuck. You're going to settle for this instead?"
You glance at her and shrug. What are you supposed to do?
Mom slathers a helping of oil on your cock. She must have warmed the bottle beforehand because it comes flowing out at a delightful temperature. The thick rivulets of fragrant liquid run down your cock and make you grunt with pleasure.
"Shh, baby, shh," she coos. She rubs you up and down with both hands, working your shaft like a vase on a pottery wheel, applying just the right amount of pressure.
"Just let Mama rub your cock milk out..."
She lets go of you and pushes her tits together. They're so large that her hands sink into the flesh and you can no longer see them, only the indentation their pressure leaves behind.
Smiling up at you, she leans forward and pushes your oil-slick cock into the equally oil-slick crevice of her cleavage. It's hot and perfectly smooth, better than the best cocksleeve you've ever used. You can't help bucking your hips against her.
"Do you like Mama's titjob, baby? Do you like fucking my tits?"
Ms. Carte clasps your chin in her hand and draws your face toward hers. She kisses you, trying a seductive approach: "come on, that's boring, isn't it? Don't you want to fuck my pussy instead? I'm so hot for you..." She spreads her legs and sensually rubs her soft, wet mound.
"Don't listen to that tramp. Just sit there and cum to your heart's content. I'll do all the work..."
You lean back and shut your eyes. The underside of Mom's breasts presses against your balls every time she pushes down or you involuntarily hump up. The result is a lewd and arhythmic slapping sound that adds to the thrills of pleasure coursing through your horny dick.
"Ugh," Ms. Carte groans. She slinks to her knees beside Mom. "I can do that kind of thing just as well! Look!"
Without further warning, she shoves Mom aside. The sudden removal of pressure, softness, and warmth from your dick drives you to frustration. Your nuts are begging for release.
Ms. Carte scrambles across the floor on all fours to pick up the bottle of oil. She quickly pours some across her perky breasts and, balling her hands up into fists, presses them together in imitation of Mom's technique. As Mom clambers back to her knees, Ms. Carte mounts you.
"See?" Ms. Carte says, smiling up at you and fucking your cock gusto. "My titjob is even better, isn't it?"
"Unf," is all you can say.
"Nyah," Ms. Carte gloats, sticking her tongue out at Mom.
"Bitch!" Mom hollers, and body checks poor Ms. Carte. She falls to the side and Mom takes up her position again.
"You like Mama's tits better, don't you? Some stupid girl like that doesn't know how to do it properly..."
"Oh, you cunt!--" Ms. Carte says, sitting up again.
Even in your fuck-crazed state, you sense this is going to turn ugly if you don't intervene.
"I need to try both of you," you say. "I can't judge if you keep going back and forth like that..."
Ms. Carte mashes her oiled tits together again. "Me first, then," she says. "She's the one who interrupted."
"No way! I'll be the one to make him cum first--"
"Together," you moan impatiently, your voice low and gravelly. "Do it together."
They look at each other warily, but as you put your palms against each of their backs and beckon them toward one another, they don't resist.
Mom even swivels around to give Ms. Carte room. They sit at either side of your lap, their voluptuous breasts pushed together, nipple-to-nipple. The way the light glints off of them is tantalizing, like ripe fruit.
At first, they grit their teeth and stare at one another like sparring lionesses, but as you push your cock through their tit-meat, they become fixated instead on your slowly invading shaft. Their eyes lose focus as they both stare lovingly at your fucking cock. Both women squeeze their tits tightly together with both their hands to make the fit as snug as possible.
A new, more deviant synapse fires off in your mind. You grab for the bottle of baby oil and open it. You upturn it and let it pour out with steady glug-glugs into the crevice of their breasts. The added lubrication floods into every cranny and seeps through, across the undersides of their tits and all over your nuts. The warmth, heat, and wetness are divine.
But you're not done yet. A large amount of oil remains in the bottle, and you want to use it all.
You pour the remainder out, first over Ms. Carte's head, and then over Mom's. The translucent fluid runs in little streamers down their wanton faces, and neither of them mind the degradation. In fact their rounding mouths seem to indicate they enjoy it. Their hair becomes slick and shiny, their faces blurred and puffy-looking. Their jaws hang open as the wetness creeps down their necks, their backs, and their chests.
You fuck them with increased pace now, getting ready to shower them with cum. Your thighs slap so hard against them that you're sure it will leave bruises on their tender tit-flesh. Instead of shying away from the abuse, they just push together even closer, making the fit even tighter. You run your hands all over their slimy faces and bodies, the oily sensation making them feel like human onaholes.
"I'm going to cum," you say.
"Cum for Mama... pour it all out..."
"No! Cum for teacher... you want to cum for me, right? Shoot your cum, just for me...'
"Ugh! Fuck!" you moan. "I'm cumming for both of you! Stop fighting! You're both the best!"
You seat your cock so the head just barely pokes out from their cleavage, and let yourself blow. The spurting cum looks like a white geyser, emptying into a transparent ocean of oil.
In the shower afterwards, you earlier vision of being pressed between the two women as they soap each other down comes true.
"Be honest, now. I was the best, wasn't I? N-not that I care, of course, I just can't let a skank like that beat me..."
"Please. Tell your mother that nothing can compare to the purity of love between a student and his mentor. Besides, mine are perkier..."
Letting your hands roam free, across their round, plump asses and well-formed thighs, you alternate between kissing both of them.
"I was telling the truth..." you say in between kisses. "You're both the best."
You're not sure whose hands are working you over or whose tongues are mingling with whose after a while, but together they bring you off to another grunting orgasm in the shower before you finally go to bed that night.