The Tutor Gets Tutored

I hit my vape and scowled as I slumped down in the car seat. Warm rays of sunlight warmed my cheeks as I inhaled, the irritation clear on my face as I looked up into the rearview mirror. This was not what I had wanted or expected for myself at this age. I was twenty-two, a minted college graduate from Brown University, and I was living at home with my parents. No job, no love life, no fucking future as far as I could tell. I slammed my vape into my handbag and stepped out of the car. The heat of summer crackled off the asphalt and I grimaced as I locked the car.

I looked towards the door of the Victorian style house. "Well, no point putting it off," I muttered to myself. I glanced down at the black jeans I wore, tight and clinging to my hips. Maybe a poor choice in this weather, but I assumed the Slaters had air conditioning. I walked to the door and rang the doorbell.

Tutoring was fine work, my dad had said. Get you some work experience, add it to your resume, and I'd be in for a job any day now.

What a crock of shit. I rang the doorbell.

It opened almost instantly. Mrs. Slater, a woman I'd known most of my life, beamed down at me. She was dressed in a thin cotton shirt, buttoned down low enough that I could see a hint of a lacey, black bra beneath. Her chestnut-colored hair hung in loose curls down past her shoulders, and a light coating of lipstick glistened on her lips.

"Oh my god! Jessica!" She threw her arms around me, hugging me tight to her chest, then held me back at arm's length. "I haven't seen you in, what, two years? It's so nice to have you back in the neighborhood. I love your hair, by the way," she said, pointing at the shaggy shock of dark hair that fell in bangs almost to my eyes, the ends dyed a bright blue. "So edgy... so punk rock." I didn't think Mrs. Slater had ever listened to punk rock in her life, but I kept my mouth shut.

"Thanks for the job," I said, smiling politely. "Kenna's in her first year of college, right?"

Mrs. Slater ushered me in, taking me down familiar, if long unvisited, hallways and corridors. "Oh, community college, but... well, I'm not supposed to say anything about that," she said, rolling her eyes. "My daughter... let's just say she's had a tough time. Her dad and I have been fighting a lot." She shot me a conspiratorial smile, leaning in to whisper. "But don't tell Kenna I said that, either. I mean, you know that Harold and I separated, right?"

I nodded uncomfortably. "My mom mentioned it..." I smiled sheepishly, my cheeks heating up. "Actually she told me not to mention it."

Mrs. Slater let out a dry, hollow laugh. "Oh, your mother," she said, sighing. "It's okay, it's been two years. I don't think he'll be coming back any time soon." She smiled at me. "You know what they say... there are more fish in the sea."

I laughed a little. "Is that why you dressed up so nice today? You have a hot dinner date, Mrs. Slater?"

Mrs. Slater shrugged her shoulders, looking like a mischievous schoolgirl as she ran her hands through her hair. "Oh, this is nothing special, I always dress up like this." She shot me a smile, mischief in her eyes. "Come on, come on, Kenna's in her room."

"Mom? Who is that?" A young, girlish voice called out from the other room. Kenna walked out, and I felt my jaw drop. I remembered her as a gangly, pimply seventeen year old girl. But two years had passed and now she was... well, she was drop dead gorgeous. She'd let her dirty blonde hair grow out to shoulder length, her lips full and glossed and pink, her green eyes sharp and defiant.

"Jessica," she said, sniffing. "I didn't know you were going to be my tutor. I thought it was going to be a professional. What did you do to your hair?"

Mrs. Slater bristled. "Jessica is perfectly qualified, honey," she said. "She just graduated from Brown University with a Bachelor's in math." She turned to me, flashing her best "my daughter is crazy" smile. "Why don't you girls get started?"

I kept my smile plastered to my lips. Kenna might have glown up a bit, but it had clearly soured her personality. She hadn't been nearly so rude when I first met her. But I couldn't complain to Mrs. Slater when she had so graciously given me a job. "Let's go work in your room, Kenna."

She huffed and walked down the hall, pushing open the door to her room. I followed her inside. The room hadn't changed at all in two years, which surprised me. I thought I'd at least find an array of posters of young pop stars or actors on her wall, or maybe something more sophisticated and artistic, but there was nothing of the kind. Kenna had apparently always been a history nerd. A framed American flag hung on one wall, surrounded by photos from famous civil war battlefields, while another wall held photos of the USS Constitution, and a map of the Holy Land in 1709.

"These are pretty cool," I said, trying to bond with her. "I mean, I'm not really a history expert, but I know you always liked it."

"What did you major in again?" She asked. Her arms were folded across her chest, a scowl on her face. She'd clearly planned on giving me a hard time. "Mom told me, but I can't remember what it was."

"Mathematics," I said, narrowing my eyes at her. "With a concentration in statistics." Her mother had mentioned it just a minute ago, so I knew she was just trying to be rude. "And my understanding is that you're having a hard time with calculus."

She turned away from me. "Yeah, well... that's not a problem. You can just leave if you want."

"What?"

Kenna shrugged her shoulders. "I mean, I guess that if you want to, you can just leave."

"Mrs. Slater is expecting me to tutor you," I said, trying to stay calm. "It's an hourly job. I'm not going to leave. Now, why don't you get our your textbook and show me what you're learning this quarter?"

"I said you can go, bitch." I froze in shock at the harsh word coming from her lips. She turned back towards me, a grin on her face. "You're a little bitch, Jessica, do you know that? I'm not going to study with you today."

I smiled icily at her, swallowing the anger that wanted to spill out. "Okay. If that's how you feel, I'll go. And I can tell your mother what you said." I stepped closer to her, trying not to be distracted by the beauty of her delicate cheekbones and slender physique. "But I heard that you've already lost your car keys, and if you keep this up, she's sending you to stay with your dad in North Dakota." I knew Kenna would absolutely hate that.

Her pouty face crunched up as her green eyes surveyed me, probingly. I felt her gaze intensely, and it flustered me, but I held my ground. "Fine," she relented. "Guess you can teach me. Or try, at least."

I sat down at the little table and gestured to the chair opposite me. "Calc is fun, it really is," I said, hoping I sounded convincing. "And you'll learn a lot about statistics in your economics courses." I hoped that she would be pliable for the remainder of my one hour.

She was not.

For the next hour she huffed, groaned, rolled her eyes and snapped at every instruction, every piece of advice I gave her. She yawned and painted her nails while I talked, and barely tried to solve any of the problems. When she did, she didn't come close to a right answer. I started to get a headache. "Kenna, listen. If you're not interested, that's fine, but we should probably just stop for today."

She shrugged and hopped onto her bed, then put in her Airpods. I scowled and packed up my things. As I opened the bedroom door, I heard her voice. I turned.

"Hey," she said, grinning wickedly. "I heard you were a dyke. Is that true?"

I slammed the door as I exited the room. My cheeks were burning red. Anger, embarrassment, and a bit of flustered arousal as well. How dare she? I shouldered my bag and walked down the hallway and out into the living room, eager to leave.

"She's a little nightmare, isn't she?" Mrs. Slater's voice jarred me, and I stopped still. She was sitting in the living room, having a glass of wine. "It's just been so hard ever since she started college. She won't study, won't learn anything, it's awful."

I opened my mouth, and closed it. It felt wrong, talking behind her daughter's back. "She wasn't so bad," I lied. "Just needs a little motivating."

Kenna's mother looked up, an eyebrow raised. "I hope you were firm with her." I wasn't sure what she meant by that, so I didn't respond.

She leaned back, sipping from the glass, her head tipped back just so, the elegant, long lines of her body on display as she lounged, the dark black bra visible under the white blouse. I felt a thrill as I caught a glimpse of it, the tanned skin of her breast peeking through the lace. "Would you care to join me for a glass of wine, Jessica?"

I blushed, worried she'd noticed me ogling her. "No... I really should go."

"Very well," she said, sighing as though I had gravely disappointed her. "I'll Venmo you for the lesson. Same time tomorrow?"

I hesitated. "I really don't think Kenna wants to learn from me."

Mrs. Slater smiled mysteriously. "Like I said, she just needs a firm hand. Don't be afraid to... discipline her." I swallowed at that word, a flash of heat shooting through my loins. She shot me a wicked smile and took a slow sip of wine, watching me, as if she knew just what I was feeling. I gave her a shaky wave goodbye, and got the hell out of there.

#

The next week was quite a miserable experience. As much as I hate the word, there was no other way to describe her - Kenna was an insufferable bitch. She talked back constantly, insulted me at every turn, and continued to imply that I was a dyke. And while I had, indeed, been intimate with a girl before, it was a fucked up thing to say, and she had no cause for it. I couldn't understand why she kept baiting me, or why she refused to pay attention to my tutoring.

As a matter of fact, there were only two times that Kenna was silent for more than five minutes, and those times were when her mother came home early, or came into her room for a moment to see how we were doing. She sat up, paid attention to what I said, and when it was all over she would return to her old, insolent self. And I swear Mrs. Slater kept giving me a look, like she expected me to do something. To take control of the situation. And I didn't know how to do that.

Until one day, when Kenna went too far.

It was my second week tutoring her. Mrs. Slater was working a lot more now, leaving me and her daughter alone for longer stretches. We were working at Kenna's desk in her room, me sitting in one chair and her lounging lazily on her bed, her pencil barely touching her notebook. I was at the end of my rope. I turned to face her. "I need you to actually try for once. For fuck's sake, Kenna, I can't teach you anything like this!"

"Oh my god," she said, rolling her eyes. "Chill out. I'm working on my nails, you little dyke."

I stood up and slapped her. The sound recoiled through the room, shocking both of us into quiet submission. I looked down at her reddening cheek, saw her eyes smarting with tears, and realized I'd royally fucked up. "Shit," I muttered, grabbing my bag. "Shit, I'm so sorry, Kenna. I really... shit. I didn't mean to hurt you. I gotta go." I hurried for the door.

"Stop!"

I stopped dead in my tracks. Her voice was angry and defiant, and a shiver of fear ran down my spine. I'd hurt her, humiliated her, and she had a right to be pissed. I slowly turned to face her, not wanting to meet her eyes. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, and the anger in her eyes had given way to a probing, hungry look.

"Do it again."

I blinked. "What?"

"Do it again."

I hesitated. "You mean, like... slap you again? No. Fuck. No way."

"Just do it." Kenna stood up and crossed her arms defiantly. "Slap me in the face, bitch. Hit me as hard as you can."

I set down my bag. This was so weird. "Are you fucking crazy, Kenna?"

"Are you?"

"You don't want me to hurt you," I said. "What are you trying to prove? That I'm an awful person?" I stepped closer to her. "Because if I hit you again, that's exactly what I am." I didn't like that her green eyes were boring into me, making me feel naked and exposed.

She looked at me for a moment, her face neutral. "Just do it, you dyke slut."

I didn't think. I slapped her again. And again. She shrieked and fell back against her bed, chest heaving as the blood rushed to her cheeks. "Yes," she said, her voice dropping to a low whisper. "I know you like slapping me, whore." I gasped in surprise as I felt her foot rub my calf, sliding up against my body, caressing my inner thighs. "Do it again."

I climbed on top of the bed, straddling her with my hips. I felt my throat constrict. "What are you doing?" I demanded. She didn't answer. She was running her fingers over the length of my legs, biting her lower lip. I realized, with a thrill, that her green eyes were trained on the tight, dark jeans I was wearing, and my skin burned at the attention. She wanted to touch me, I realized, to feel my skin under her fingers. And she didn't care that I was a girl.

I unbuttoned my jeans. "You've never been with a girl, have you?" I said, my words gentle now. I leaned forward and kissed her jaw, and I felt the cold, bitchy girl melt underneath me, just as my own loins slickened with desire. My hands curled around her throat. "Is this how you get a woman's attention? It's quite immature. Desperate." I kissed her, biting down on her lip and tugging it before kissing my way up her cheek, my teeth grazing her earlobe. "Something a pathetic little girl does, not a woman." She purred underneath me, her fingers tugging down the waistband of my jeans. My white panties were exposed, the wet spot glistening on them.

I reached down to unbutton her jean shorts. "My mom's going to be back soon," she whispered. "We have to be quick." I grunted in assent. I pulled her shorts down and off her legs, and then pulled my own jeans off. "Copy me," I said, lying down next to her. I wanted so badly to strip her naked and play with every part of her, but right now, I knew the two of us just wanted to get off. I considered myself pretty experienced at fingering a woman, having some experience with a girl before. The only girl I'd ever dated, for just a few months last year. I thought about the first time I'd slid my fingers down her underwear.

Kenna's panties were pink. I patted them and she moaned. I slid my fingers under the fabric and felt the bristles of her pubic hair before sliding down inside. She was dripping wet, and my pussy twitched at the feel of the slick moisture soaking her panties. She copied me, pushing her hand down my panties and pressing the pads of her fingers against my bare slit.

"Do what I do." I rubbed my fingers down the wetness of her folds, then slid them inside. She followed my lead and I groaned, biting her lip to stifle the noise. I didn't want Mrs. Slater walking in on the two of us, and neither did she. But if I'd learned anything from my time tutoring her, Kenna was not a good listener, so I grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her ear down to my mouth. "Do not stop, no matter what." She groaned.

I matched her motions as best as I could. She had no fucking idea what she was doing, of course, her fingers were clumsy, unrefined. But it was hotter than anything I'd felt in months. The thrill of getting caught was too exciting. I twisted my fingers inside of her, feeling her body clench down around the invasion. She mimicked the motion, and I clenched around her.

Kenna let out a breathy, desperate moan, her fingers sliding deeper into me as she pulled me closer. I groaned. Her thumb grazed my clit and I pressed myself down against her, encouraging her, showing her. She began to circle my clit and I reciprocated, our bodies writhing together as our fingers plunged inside one another. My lips pressed to her cheek, kissing her soft, flushed skin. She bit my lip as our hips ground together. She let out a strangled whimper, and I knew she was close, I was close too. The sensation was overwhelming, it had been so long since I'd had anyone touch me, since I'd been inside anyone. I had almost forgotten the way the muscles gripped your fingers when someone was on the verge of an orgasm.

Kenna tensed against me. Her walls gripped me so tight that it hurt a little. She gasped and bit her lip. Her hand stilled and I hissed at her. "I didn't say to stop!" She began to move her hand again.

I could feel her body shudder against me. She was trying to be quiet. But a desperate gasp escaped her throat and I covered her mouth with my lips, swallowing the sounds as I tasted her mouth, the flavor of her cherry lip gloss. The pleasure in her body seemed to shudder and quake and I realized I'd been moving my fingers the whole time, working her through the orgasm.

When she opened her eyes and looked at me, I pulled away, blushing and flustered. But she pressed her mouth back to mine. We kissed for a bit, and then shot to our feet like jolted cats as we heard movement downstairs. We pulled our pants on, ignoring the dampness of our underwear and quickly gathered up our books. I glanced at her face, sighing in relief when I saw that she was red, but not bruised from my slapping. I put my things in my bag and stepped outside the door. She swatted me on the ass as I exited, and I covered my mouth with my hand to stifle the excited shriek that escaped me.

"I hope she was better today," Mrs. Slater said, as I headed for the front door. She was drinking wine again, and her eyes, green like her daughter's, looked me over probingly.

I nodded, trying not to blush. "Yeah, actually she was."

She smiled, a knowing look in her eyes that turned my face even redder. "A firm hand, Jessica. That's what she needs. See you tomorrow."

I closed the door behind me and exhaled, my cunt still wet and twitching. I couldn't believe what just happened. And I knew I was going home and fingering myself, just the way that Kenna had. I rushed to the car.

#

"The derivative is... oh... oh... oh, fuck!" Kenna said, her legs spasming as she gripped the edge of the desk with both hands. I kept lapping away at her loins dutifully. The blonde brushland of her nethers tickled my nose, as her wetness coated my tongue and throat, the rich scent of her cunt flooding my nostrils as she came.

I licked her slowly as she calmed, cleaning up the wetness, letting it drip down my chin. I removed myself from under the desk and rose as she pulled her panties back on under her skirt. "That's how you eat pussy," I said. I grinned, licking the last drops of her off my lips. "And how you take the derivative of a multivariable function."

"Thanks," Kenna said, with a grin. She stiffened, suddenly, and glanced over at her laptop. "Oh, shit, I need to get going. I'm meeting my friends at the mall."

I felt a twinge of jealousy. I had almost no friends left in my hometown. In fact, coming here and "tutoring" Kenna was basically the closest to a social life I had now. "Oh... that sounds fun," I said lamely.

She gave me a peck on the cheek as she tossed on her jacket and headed for the door. "Thanks for tutoring me. Maybe I'll try that lesson on you next time," she said, giggling as she ran down the stairs. I threw my bag over my shoulder and followed, a sulky expression flitting across my face. I had eaten her out, delaying my own satisfaction, and now she was off to have fun, while I went home, my cunt aching with need. It felt very unfair.

Mrs. Slater was downstairs. Drinking wine, as usual. It didn't seem like an issue with her - if anything, it seemed completely classy. "My very rude daughter just ran out of her in an absolute storm," Mrs. Slater said, rolling her eyes. "I'm sorry if she cut your lesson short. I'll still pay for the whole hour."

"Thanks," I said, tugging at the strap of my bag irritably. "I guess I should go."

"A glass of wine, Jessica?" Mrs. Slater smiled invitingly at me. "Come on, you're twenty-two. Do you have any plans? If not, you should have a glass with me."

I hesitated. It was strange, of course, to have wine with a family friend like this. But I was so fucking lonely. What was I going to do if I went home? Masturbate and watch TV and go to sleep? That sounded awful.

"Okay," I said. "One glass of wine."

#

Four glasses later, we were laughing up a storm as Mrs. Slater told me about how her husband had simply no idea how to please her in bed. She took a sip of her wine and said, "Men are all the same. They all want you to worship their dicks." I nodded sagely, as though I knew anything about men and dick worshipping. "It's all about them. If they get off, they don't care about you."

"Yeah, exactly!" I said, pointing at her as if she'd just solved an incredibly complex theorem.

She sighed and poured me another glass of wine, setting the bottle back in the cooler with a sigh. "You know, I wanted to bring something up. I'm not satisfied with your tutoring."

I blinked, surprised. Surprised that she'd bring it up now, and surprised that she had a qualm. "Her grades are going up. Didn't she get a B+ on the midterm?" Kenna had no passion for mathematics. A B+ was probably about as good as you could hope for her.

Mrs. Slater leaned forward. She wore one of her signature tight blouses with a lacy bra. I found my eyes drawn to her curves, and when I realized I was staring I blushed and looked away. She smiled. "I'm not talking about mathematics, Jessica."

I felt my face warming. "What are you talking about?"

She looked me over carefully, her eyes traveling down the length of my body. "Sex, of course. You've been teaching my daughter sex."

"Mrs. Slater - "

She rolled her eyes, dismissively. "Oh, don't be so embarrassed. I knew about it from the beginning. And I knew Kenna had a little thing for you when she was younger. So I thought you'd be a very motivating teacher. And you have been," she said, sipping her wine and laughing. "A B+ in calculus? It's a miracle, coming from Miss History Nerd." She frowned, the mirth disappearing from her face. "But the sex..."

I felt the heat of humiliation burning in my chest. "I... I know it's not appropriate."

"You misunderstand me. I have listened in on some of your... lessons," she said derisively as she poured me some more wine. I was shaking so I gripped the stem with both hands and sipped it gingerly. "My concern is that my daughter is receiving sexual education from an uneducated, uninspired, novice, and I simply won't have that." She gestured at me. "Stand up."

My throat was dry, my voice barely a whisper. "Mrs. Slater?"

"You heard me. If you are to tutor my daughter in sexual matters, I must tutor you." She clapped her hands together, and I leapt to my feet. "Disrobe for me, please."

I looked at her. Studied her elegant, sturdy features. Her green eyes, so much like her daughter. Had my face been warm earlier, it now seemed aflame and aglow. I glanced back at the front door, thinking of Kenna, wondering what would happen if she were to walk in. "Mrs. Slater..."

"She's staying at a friend's tonight. That means we can take our time and ensure your education is thorough." She peered over the rim of her wine glass at me. "Disrobe for me, Jessica. I won't ask again."

I began to unbutton my loose flannel shirt. All I had beneath it was a pale white bra. Mrs. Slater gave me a look that indicated that was insufficient, so I pulled off the shirt and unbuckled my jeans, pulling them down over my ass and hips, my skin prickling in the air. I now stood before her in my white bra and panties, my pale skin lightly freckled and flushed with humiliated arousal.

"Your bra is too large," she said. "And those panties don't flatter your ass at all. Why on earth would you wear those?" I couldn't bring myself to reply, my throat tight with nervousness. She shook her head disapprovingly and rose from her seat.

She placed her hands on my hip bones. I trembled. "Good hips, though," she said, squeezing the flesh. She unhooked my bra. I swallowed as I felt my breasts exposed. I tried to cover them with my arm. She smacked my hand away and pinched one of my nipples, and I gasped. "Nice little breasts, as well." She grinned as my eyes met her gaze, and she pinched the nipple, pulling on it, then giving the other one a sharp twist. I bit my lip to stop a moan from escaping.

Mrs. Slater looked down at me with an air of detached superiority as she drained the last of her wine, and then leaned forward, pressing her lips to my nipple. Her lips were cool and dry. I felt her teeth bite down, hard, and I stifled another yelp as I felt my pussy tighten in need. She licked at the bud with a flat tongue and then bit down again, hard. Her lips peppered kisses down my abdomen as her hands tugged the waistband of my panties down, over the curves of my ass, exposing the lightly furred darkness of my mons, and the pink folds that lay below.

She sniffed between my legs, and pushed them apart a bit. I groaned as I felt her hot breath hiss over my nethers, fluttering my pubic hair and causing my cunny to pulse needily. It was like that for a while. I stood there while she breathed and sniffed around my cunt, arousing me and scintillating me, her hands kneading the skin of my ass and thighs, her nails scratching me. I began to leak, onto the hardwood floor below. She seemed in no hurry to finger me or eat me out, and it drove me mad.

She began by placing two fingers upon my folds, parting them as easily as the sea parted for Moses. I whined needily as her nose ran through my pubes and her tongue took a long, lazy exploratory stroke across my labia. Then she licked again. Never in a rush, her tongue felt heavy and curious, as though it merely wanted to sample me, not really devour me. Her fingers held my folds apart as her tongue gently unraveled me. I couldn't believe what was happening to me, down there. I had never been eaten or touched like this. So expertly, so patiently, so thoroughly. I thought I knew what sex was. Now I realized I had been very naive.

Her tongue made broad, firm, but gentle licks over the length of my sex. I felt her graze the pearl of my clitoris, but never really pressure it. I grunted, thrusting my hips at her. She paused, tongue hanging from her mouth like a dog. She panted, letting her breath warming my damp loins. "Don't be a whore, Jessica," she said. "I don't taste whores."

I groaned. "You're driving me crazy, Mrs. Slater."

"Good girls are patient. Are you my good girl?"

"Yes, I'm your good girl!" I whined.

She smiled. "Then be a good girl, and restrain yourself." She put her face back to my crotch and resumed her ministrations. She lapped at me like an animal drinking from a lake, taking long, deep pulls, and then switching to light, kitten-like laps of the tongue. The constant, unpredictable switching of tempo had me panting in frustration and need, and it seemed like hours before she finally took the tip of her tongue and began to lick my clitoris with firm, steady pressure.

I'd had orgasms before, and I would have orgasm after, but I still remember that one very well. My hands gripped her shoulders as I bent over, my knees buckling. She never stopped her work as my hips began to grind against her, as the climax started in the small of my back and spread throughout my body. I moaned, panted, grunted, fuck, I might have even barked.

It felt like I had been emptied out. All the frustration, the fear, the anxiety, the tension - all gone. Just for that brief moment, as I came down from that orgasm, I felt completely, utterly, blissfully at ease. I slumped into her and she held me, the two of us nestled against the edge of the couch. She gave me a soft kiss, and I licked myself clean off her mouth. I tasted myself on her, enjoyed it.

"Now," she said, her lips curling into a cold smirk. "I think you should practice on me."

#

The next few weeks passed in a blur of sex and equations.

Mrs. Slater tutored me whenever she had the opportunity. My tongue studied at the altar of her loins, and whenever I learned a new trick, I eagerly applied it upon her daughter the very next day. I felt so very naughty and whorish doing such a thing, especially since Kenna seemed to have no idea. But I couldn't stop. My otherwise dull life now had changed... much for the better.

As my skills developed, I saw them reflected in the improvement in Kenna's work. She still was no math prodigy, and she barely bothered to study for her tests. But it seemed her tutor knew what she liked and what she needed, because she started to make excellent progress on every assignment she was given, even when I tried to trip her up with unexpected difficulties. It seemed that I had found an effective way to motivate her. But while Kenna was progressing well in her lessons, I was getting a harsh education from Mrs. Slater.

It hardly does my lessons justice... but here is a sampling of some of the finer moments.

#

Mrs. Slater spread her legs for me as I sat naked on the floor. "Go on," she said, waving her hand impatiently at my groin. "Show me what you've learned."

I dipped my face into the warmth and musky wetness between her legs and inhaled. She smelled divine. She didn't like it if I complimented her, but she did have a lovely fragrance that permeated the folds of her pussy. I extended my tongue and ran the tip of it from the bottom of her slit to the top.

Her fingers raked through my hair, her nails lightly scraping the skin of my scalp. "That's very good, Jessica. Very good," she purred.

I worked diligently to pleasure her, but she kept shifting on the chair, her pussy moving and grinding and sliding, and it made it very hard to do my work. I placed my hands on the undersides of her knees to steady her and continued licking, letting her juices soak into my mouth as she continued to make the sweetest, most luscious noises above me. Her bush, dark and reddish like her hair, provided a comfortable if ticklish place to rest my nose. I had learned from practice and previous attempts at pleasing her, the way she liked my tongue to probe and circle her opening, before I slid my fingers inside. She was a bit looser than her daughter, and much wetter. I pulled my fingers out and rubbed the juice in my palm into her inner thigh, eliciting a happy gasp, before sliding them back in. She felt so good around me.

"A little bit more pressure," she gasped. "And slide your tongue... down." I obliged, but took my time to explore and tease the sensitive flesh of her perineum, circling the edges of her asshole, little hairs bristling against my tongue, but not quite giving her what she wanted. My fingers continued to pump into her cunt. I was very good at fingering now, I'd practiced a lot on her. "Oh, don't tease," she purred.

I flicked my tongue out gently to scrape against the pucker of her asshole. "There!" she gasped, her fingers tightening around my hair. "Stay right there!" My lips closed around the tight star and I gave a few exploratory licks, as I felt her legs quaking with pleasure. "You are a fast learner, you naughty slut." Her hands curled tighter around my head. "Keep licking... like... oh, like that!"

Her asshole tasted salty and bitter. She hadn't cleaned herself out before I got here, and her juices from her pussy had dribbled down between her ass cheeks. I had the strange impression of being both dirty and clean, like my head was resting in a filthy garbage can but the rest of me was in the bath, being cleaned up with a rag. I giggled, and the sound made her squirm in pleasure, her asshole twitching and loosening, a drop of juice falling down. I began to slap my tongue between her asscheeks, then back up her taint and over her slit, flicking her clitoris as though it were a casual afterthought. My fingers drilled her pussy.

The muscles in her body tensed. Her ass, her legs, her arms, her thighs, they all began to clench down tight around me, her juices soaking my fingers as her pussy quivered, spasmed, then gripped down tight. "Fuuuuuck," she groaned, as her back arched and she squeezed her thighs tight around my head, and my world went black and fuzzy.

#

Kenna's breasts were smaller than her mothers, but perky, with rosy areolas and sharp nipples. I had spent the previous night learning about nipple play from her mother, and I was eager to experiment with her eager, young body. I took her breasts and squeezed them in my hands, making a show of playing with the flesh. She sighed and shifted against me. I sat on her bed, with the girl straddled between my legs, her back against my own bare breasts.

I kissed her neck and she hummed appreciatively, causing me to giggle. That was exactly how her mother reacted when I kissed her neck, too. I tugged at her nipples with my mischievous fingers. I knew what it was like to have a woman do that to me. She didn't know how it would make her pussy throb with need, or how much she'd enjoy it. It was exciting to see that reaction for the first time in a woman's eyes.

She shivered in delight as my teeth grazed her skin. Her eyes closed, and her fingers traced patterns over my knees. "Fuck," she moaned. "That feels nice." I giggled against her neck. She was so different when she was naked. So much more polite.

My fingers gently stroked, kneaded, tugged, pinched. I rubbed my palms over the tip of the nipple, letting her feel the warmth. I massaged her breasts. She gasped and began to grind against me. I ran one hand down to the warmth between her legs, while my other continued to stimulate her sharp, hard nipples. "Fuck me," she moaned, her voice hot with desire. I chuckled at how forward she was, and my fingers grazed over the turgid button of her clit, rubbing it slowly. Her hips thrust up, fucking herself with my finger as I slid two inside her wet slit. "God... yes, please. I can't... fuck... I can't believe...

I reached down to grab her by the ass, turning her around to face me. She shrieked as my nails scraped her chalk-white skin, and her shriek turned to a long, sordid whimper as I began to suck on her left nipple. My right hand played with her right nipple, flicking it carelessly, as my left hand cupped the soaking wet folds that sat between her delicately thin legs. Kenna groaned, her breasts pressed tight against my face. I suckled each nipple in turn, my hands alternating between massaging her cunny and tugging at her breasts.

She was a quivering mess within minutes.

"Please," she begged, her voice breathy and desperate. "I can't... I can't take it anymore."

I grinned, and pulled her off the bed, turning her around and pushing her face down into the mattress. I gave her a few firm swats on the ass, and she yelped in pain. I couldn't help but giggle as she lifted her ass to meet my hand, her cunt dripping onto the sheets. I rubbed the flat of my palm against her slit and she groaned. I took a handful of her blonde locks and pulled her head back, leaning in to kiss her. "What do you want?" I said, my lips against her ear.

"I want you to fuck me."

"Ask nicely."

"Please, please fuck me. I want you to fuck me. I want your fingers inside me. Please, please, I'm begging you!"

I slid my hand between her legs and plunged two fingers into her, and she gasped in shock and delight. I fingered her roughly, my palm slapping against her pussy with every thrust. She groaned and grabbed the sheets, her body shuddering with pleasure. I grinned, and continued to spank her ass.

"Oh, fuck, yes!" she moaned, her eyes clenched shut, her face screwed up in pleasure. "Oh, fuck, yes, please, just like that! Don't stop, don't stop!"

I slapped her ass, over and over again, until my fingers had wrenched cries of ecstasy from her, muffled in her pillow. But I wasn't worried about being loud. Her mother knew what I was doing.

#

Mrs. Slater stood naked before me. Her body was as firm as ever, but it was not young. Her skin was lightly lined with crow's feet and sun spots. The hair of her pussy was as dark and full as her chestnut-brown hair, but the rest of her body was lightly freckled. I stared, rapt, at the two beautiful tits, so round and heavy, hanging down like ripe fruit. She was firmer, stronger than her waifish daughter, but they had the same green eyes, the same hungry smile as they looked over me.

In her hand she held a cane. She swung it lazily from side to side as she stalked around me, on all fours on my bed. My skin prickled in fear as she did so, and my thighs grew slick in excitement. "I had a student like you, once," she said. "Her name was Olivia. A young whore who thought she knew all the tricks. Just like you. Do you know what happened to Olivia, Jessica?" I shook my head, my hair swaying around me. "Olivia is working as a bank teller. I believe she has two children now. Her husband is a doctor. But she still lets me fuck her, when I'm in the mood."

My cunt tightened at the words. I tried to imagine it. A young woman, who thought she was such a master at fucking. Her cunt brought to heel by the same woman who stood over me. The thought turned my head inside out, made my mouth water in arousal and my pussy tighten. She pressed a heel against my spine. "Ass in the air, Jessica," she said.

I complied. "Now," she said. "Let's see how tough you are." I shrieked as the cane struck the flesh of my left ass cheek. Then the right. Again, the left, and again. Her strokes were hard and strong. My flesh prickled as it stung with pain and I tried to pull away. She pulled me back into place, then slapped me across the cheek with the cane.

I opened my mouth to beg her to stop, but her hand pressed down between my shoulder blades, forcing my mouth onto the bedsheets, smothering me.

And I fucking loved it.

Her hand never left my back, forcing me down as she continued to whip me. She let me breathe just for a moment, then began to rain the cane down on my back and thighs, making me moan in pleasure and agony in equal measures.

I enjoyed it even more when I used the cane on her daughter the next day. I caned Kenna so hard and so eagerly she was shifting her ass and groaning in discomfort the entire time we went over trigonometric integrals.

#

It may seem like I am a great pervert, fucking a mother and a daughter. But unless you have experienced such a sexual concoction, you don't understand the magic of it. Imagine knowing drinking a whiskey aged a short while, and then the same whiskey aged, twenty years later. That is the only way I can describe it. To taste their different flavors on my tongue, to see the different reactions they gave me. To know their secrets. I learned what Mrs. Slater loved to fuck - how her pussy reacted, and I knew exactly how to pleasure her. And also, to see their similarities, the way they twitched when I licked their right nipple. To see them so alike and yet so different was the most intoxicating of experiences.

I grew to understand both of their cunts in great detail. Both women tasted so very different, but I soon learned to find the subtle hints of the same in each of them, and could differentiate their flavor just as a sommelier could. Kenna's cunny was a young, tart nectar, dripping with youth and freshness. Mrs. Slater's was deeper and earthier, an old wine of a woman whose body had fermented into an aged and potent vintage.

I could smell both of them for hours afterwards. Kenna's pussy had a slight tinge of strawberry from her shaving cream, a sweet and youthful scent. But I found I much preferred her mother's cunt, which was mustier and had a rich scent, the musky aroma of her body perfume. Both made me lick my lips. Both made me ache with hunger. Both made me want to slide my tongue into them.

And, I found that the more I labored upon the two Slaters, the more my own skills improved. It was almost like Kenna's mother was a sex goddess, and if I just got close enough to her, some of that power would transfer to me, the way light and electricity are generated. It seemed crazy, and yet as time passed my confidence and sexual prowess increased, until it seemed that the mother-daughter combo was addicted to me.

And I was equally as addicted to them.

#

I grunted as Mrs. Slater thrusted into me with the strap-on, my hands gripping the bedsheets.

She fucked me with a steady, uncompromising rhythm that made me wince in pleasure with every thrust. "There you go," she purred, her hands cupping the globes of my sizeable ass. "Such a good girl, you are, Jessica." I blushed, her praise and the praise of her strap-on filling my pussy making me feel all hot and gooey inside. "Look at me," she said. "You are not to close your eyes. I want to see those beautiful brown eyes of yours, my little whore."

I looked up at her, at her beautiful, freckled breasts, and her red hair framing her face like a lion's mane. My loins felt warm, the sensation of the cock filling my cunny as I slammed my ass backwards into its heft. She thrusted into me, her hands sliding up to the small of my back as my ass and hips ground against the silicone of the dildo. I bit down on my lip. She grinned at the sight. "That's a good girl. Bite your lip. Show me what a naughty thing you are."

My fingers slipped, and I felt my face slam into a pillow, as I felt her begin to slap my ass in a rhythm to her thrusting, the motion rocking my body back and forth, sending sparks of delight up my spine and down the backs of my legs, the sensation curling my toes as the bed rocked under me, and I gasped, panted, my hair wild and loose over my eyes and back as the pleasure began to build inside me, the pressure mounting like water behind a dam, ready to break... ready to break... ready to burst.

Mrs. Slater was gasping above me, her hands digging into my skin as she pushed and pulled the silicone dildo inside of me, her thighs slapping against mine and the slaps of our bodies punctuating the air like the clap of a cymbal. The feeling of her inside me, her hands gripping my sides, the sensation of the sheets sliding against my body as the world tilted around me was all too much. I clenched, tightened, spasmed as the climax exploded like fireworks through me, making me cry out.

As the orgasm shuddered through me, I heard the breathless gasp from behind, and a grunt of exertion as Mrs. Slater reached her own climax, and then her body collapsed down upon me. We lay like that, sweating, panting, naked bodies pressed tight. Then we giggled together.

She pressed her mouth against my shoulder. "Good girl," she whispered, nipping gently at the flesh.

#

The vibrator buzzed in my hand. Kenna groaned under the ceaseless motion of my tongue, sweeping up and down her folds and through the valley swathed between her pert buttcheeks. Her little peach fuzz blonde hairs added texture to my path, and the smell and taste of her ass was mild compared to her mother's. She lay on the bed, face down, mewling like a kitten as I tongue bathed her genitalia. The vibrator in my hand had a foreign scent to it... the scent of her mother from the previous night. But she had no idea what her mother's cunt smelled like, and so squealed deliriously as I finally pressed it against her swollen clitoris.

I edged her for what seemed like hours, my tongue slobbering over her tiny asshole, the vibrator pressed delicately and then pulled away when I judged the bucking of her hips to be an indicator of oncoming climax. Eventually, I coaxed her into letting me prod at her rosebud with a sneaky finger, testing, circling, then finally penetrating. She moaned loudly as the finger slipped inside her and I began to apply a triumvirate of stimulation - my finger wriggling around inside her anus, my tongue battering her labia, and the vibrator applying grazing, but vicious touches to her clitoris.

She squirmed and twisted at first, but eventually relaxed. Her hips matched the rhythm of my penetrating finger, and my tongue delivered clicking strikes in counterpoint against her cunt. I grinned as her groans of pleasure, so delicious to my ears, signified her total submission. Her thighs tensed and her breathing grew erratic and desperate as my assault continued, the sweat glistening on her bare thighs, her soft little breasts rubbing against the sheets as her body rocked in place, her legs parting a few centimeters more to allow my hand, the vibrator, my face access to all parts of her, her knees locked, her ass in the air.

Then, in one sweet moment, her body shuddered in pleasure and she gave a high, breathy whine, her arms extended forward, her shoulders tense, her muscles rippling as her hips gyrated. I held myself inside of her, the vibrator gently running circles against her clitoris as her walls spasmed, tightened, and she sprayed across my hand, my face, and over the vibrator. The same vibrator had been deep inside of her mother's ass and pussy the night before, and here she was, humping her mother's sex toy like a degenerate whore. Those pale hips flailed as I continued to work my tongue and fingers upon her, daring to try and coax another orgasm from her.

And another she gave. Hoarse, grunting, squealing, her face twisted like some bedeviled creature, her breasts heaving and her cunt splattering the sheets with her arousal.

#

Of course, all good things always come to an end, someday.

Mrs. Slater and I had our cunts pressed together, our arms wrapped around one another, gasping and panting as we fucked each other. We were both slick, our pussies so wet, as I held her neck, looking her in the eyes as our hips thrusted. It was late at night. Kenna was supposed to be gone for the weekend. We were fucking on the entrance hall floor. My sweaty ass kept sliding on the wooden floor. The mirror on the wall above us, reflecting our desperate, frenzied ministrations shook as well, threatening to collapse upon us in a shower of glass.

It was exhilarating. I think the threat of getting hurt only turned us on even more.

And then I heard the creak of a step on the stairs.

Mrs. Slater and I stopped immediately, pulling apart. Her face was ashen with horror. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach as I heard the second, then the third step, as Kenna descended the staircase.

Kenna entered the room. I tried to pull away from Mrs. Slater, but she grabbed me tight and held me. Kenna looked down at the two of us. The way we were holding onto each other. How her mother's naked tits pressed against me, how my legs were wrapped around her hips. How my cunny was dripping from fucking her mother, and how Mrs. Slater was drenched in my juices.

I bit my lip, but Mrs. Slater said, "It's fine, darling. This is my fault."

Kenna's voice was low. "How long have you two been fucking?"

My cheeks flushed at the hurt in her eyes. I was ashamed. I tried to pull away from Mrs. Slater, but she only rubbed her cunt against me harder, and I groaned, unable to help myself. Kenna looked at the two of us, then back upstairs, her hand on the banister. "Don't worry, Kenna," Mrs. Slater said, her voice almost purring. "This doesn't mean anything. It's just a game."

"Yeah," I said, gasping as she grinded against me, and I began to do the same. "Don't... oh, God, don't get upset, Kenna."

But her mother only grinded harder, and my toes curled as the pleasure started to build, despite the circumstances.

"It's not fair," she whispered, her green eyes looking down at the two of us. I looked down, unable to meet her eyes. My cunt was sopping and slippery, my clit throbbing with need. "She was mine, mom! What the fuck is wrong with you? And you..." she said, glaring at me, tears in her eyes. "I thought... you and I... would you stop fucking her?"

But I couldn't stop. My body was too far gone, and Mrs. Slater's cunt was too wet, and the pleasure was building, and I wanted to stop but my body couldn't... it was... it was too... it was too...

The orgasm swept through me and Mrs. Slater as we clutched one another, her lips kissing my neck, as I gasped for breath, my skin flush, my muscles aching and burning from exertion. I recoiled as I felt Kenna's hand strike my cheek, sending my slipping across the floor on a puddle of my own arousal. She slapped her mother too, and stood between us, barefoot, upon the mess we'd made with our bodies.

She glared tearfully at me, and then her mother. She inhaled and clenched her jaw. And then she began to strip.

My mouth fell open. Mrs. Slater stared in shock. Kenna unzipped her jeans and let them drop to the ground, revealing a pale blue thong. She grabbed her tank top by the hem and pulled it up and over her head, letting her small, pertty breasts free. Then she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and pulled them down. She stood before us naked, waifish, thin, and we were all of us equaled in that nudity, bringing us to the same level.

"Mother, stand next to me." Speechless, Mrs. Slater obeyed. Two pairs of identical green eyes looked down on me, naked, covered in sweat and cunt juice, and utterly bemused. "Jessica, you have to pick. Which one of us do you prefer?"

I pulled myself off the ground and kneeled before them. I sniffed the mixing scent of their cunts. So different, yet similar. The scent of Kenna, light, like fresh dewdrops on the grass. Mrs. Slater, mustier, with the slight scent of lavender and body oil. How could one compare two perfect goddesses, or choose for that matter?

I wet my lips with my tongue. "There's only one way to find out."