We take another break, coffee and chat with Phoebe. She is of course prim, tastefully dressed, sweetly perfumed, and neatly coiffed. Hera, Megan, and I are disheveled messes, hair wild, naked bodies and faces slimed and encrusted, smelling of sweat and cum and passion. Phoebe breathes comfortably in our presence, talks happily with us about our work, our interests, our futures, and even our fears. We end up learning more about one another, and absorbing it with interest and empathy, than we would have had the three of us been left to our own communication barriers. I feel closer now to these girls due to Phoebe.
As always, The Goddess is a recurrent theme throughout her conversation. When I had first heard her speak this way, I’d regarded it as just a convenient metaphor, a way to encapsulate and decorate the kink of mother and daughter sharing the sexual thrills of a lover – the intense instinctive primal desire of the daughter, and the voyeuristic entertainment of the mother. But the more she speaks, the stronger my sense that she’s a sincere believer. Hera seems more noncommittal, easily navigating the terminology and parroting the concepts, but sometimes, at least in my impression, letting slip just the faintest hint of condescension. My feeling is that, for Hera, it’s the method her mother uses of giving her daughter permission for the most debauched behavior conceivable, and herself an excuse to enjoy it, while still thinking of herself as a conservative and modest “christian” woman. It seems to me a wonderful example of cognitive dissonance, but in our case, it’s harmless, so I’m not going to rain on anyone’s parade.
Megan, though, is enthralled by the idea. It’s like nothing she’s ever heard before, which is quite understandable, since Phoebe appears to have invented most of it herself. But it corresponds perfectly with everything Megan wants to believe, it contrasts perfectly with all of her previous frustrations and disappointments, it contradicts none of her limited education or philosophical background, at least none that she has any particular loyalty to, and it provides a powerful mythological structure for this new life paradigm she’s finding herself in, a way to imbue meaning, significance, and nobility to this exciting sexual world she is now embracing. Hera may be the daughter, but it’s obvious that Megan will be the acolyte, and priestess in training.
Phoebe’s sermon is interrupted by Hera’s impatience. “We can talk about this more later, Mom, but we have other things to do now. Who’s ready for another go-round?”
“Fuck yeah!” Megan squeals, and I’m no less enthusiastic, if maybe less vocal.
We assemble once more in the bedroom, practically leaping on the thick and cushiony bed, while Phoebe takes up her station in the chair at the foot of the bed. To an outsider, there may have been a stench, or at least an aroma of staleness to all the dried out sexual fluids coating our skin from the last round, but we’re so immersed in it we don’t notice. And it will soon be refreshed with a new layer of sweat, nectar, slime, and drool.
We make a triangle, three mouths nuzzling into three pussies, as we lay on our sides facing inward. I’ve got Megan’s young and very enthusiastic labia and clitoris pressed into my face, wriggling happily, while Hera works on mine with both raw talent and practiced expertise. It’s very distracting, I feel like I’m neglecting Megan as my own pleasure keeps overwhelming me in wave after wave. She doesn’t seem to mind, though, her orgasms are coming easily and frequently, and despite all our previous fluid loss, her re-hydrated cunt is flowing freely again, and just as delicious as ever. Soon, we’re all gasping and exhausted once more.
Suddenly Megan jumps up on the bed. “Oh my god!” her voice is panic stricken. “What time is it?” I’ve got to be at work!”
Phoebe glances at her phone. “It’s exactly four o’clock, dear.”
She groans. “I’ve got one hour. Hera, can I use your shower?”
Hera barely completes a nod, and Megan has leaped right over my face and disappeared into the bathroom with a scoot.
“Oh dear, I hope I haven’t gotten her in trouble,” Phoebe worries.
“She’ll be fine, as long as she doesn’t masturbate in the shower,” I smile. “Her pizza kitchen isn’t very far from here.”
She’s out again in a few minutes, her hair still dripping but at least clean and smelling fresher. As she dresses, I call out reminders to her.
“Workout at Carl’s tomorrow morning with me and Sonia?”
“Absolutely!” she answers brightly.
“Hippie Hollow afterwards with the three of us plus Joe and Jo?”
“Fuckin A” she smiles. “I can’t wait to meet them!”
She knots up her hair carelessly and stuffs it under her hat as she dons it, slips into her shoes, and dashes out the door yelling “I love you guys! See you soon!”
Phoebe looks wistful after she’s gone. “I love her too,” she sighs. “She is such a wonderful child. The Goddess works through her with great power.”
“Yep, she’s a horn dog all right,” Hera laughs. “I think she’s very cool. I’m jealous, though.” She looks at me. “You and Megan have the perfect skin for spending time in the Sun. I wish I could hang out at Hippie Hollow with all of you, but I spend five minutes in the Sun and I’m red and peeling and unappealing.”
“Sunscreen?” I suggest. She shakes her head. “It burns my eyes, even if somebody else is wearing it. I’m fated to be a horny naked Boo Radley, I fear.”
“Well, I hope you don’t mind the occasional visitor to comfort you in your reclusiveness. And I hope you can come out of your shell on Sunday long enough to come over to Jo and Joe’s party.”
“Does this look like a shell?” she slides her hands down her pale but shapely body. “I’ll be at that party, no matter how hot the Sun is. I just don’t think I’ll spend much time at the pool. Maybe one of the men can remain inside long enough to spend time inside of me while the rest of you are relaxing outdoors with empty starving cunts.”
“I have no doubt that all the men are going to want to spend time inside you,” I giggle. “And we’ll make sure they do. They’ll be busy.”
“Can my Mom come too? I think she’d like it.”
Phoebe puts up her hand to decline, but I interrupt. “Maybe I shouldn’t speak for Jo and Joe, but I will anyway. Yes she can come. And she should come. If you want to see a positive example of the Goddess at work, you’ll want her to be there. And your Dad too, I’d love to meet him myself. I still wonder if he’s the real mythological figure around here.”
Phoebe laughs. “I’ll go if he’ll go. That might be a deal. And he might even be interested, after you put it the way you have.” She has a mysterious, mischievous look on her face.
Without Megan, it’s just Hera and I, but that doesn’t slow us down. I’m amazed at her sexual capacity, her non-stop continual hunger, the seemingly endless well of slippery nectar that flows from her ever-sloppy cunt. We take plenty of breaks, and there are drinks, snacks, pee breaks, and even relaxing massages interspersed among the orgasms, but nothing that might qualify as “cleaning up.” I can only imagine how rancid we must appear to the rest of the world. Yet the pussy juice and the saliva, and even the sweat, always seems to flow fresh and new. It’s the smears on our skin that dry up and get old-smelling. Still, though, there’s something strangely erotic about building up layer after layer of sexual coatings, and keeping them moist and slippery with continually renewed sweat and smears of slime. We slide up and down and side to side on each other’s bodies, the sheets are soaked, and I feel like nothing less than the embodiment of raw sexual hot passion itself. Perhaps the Goddess is doing her best work now.
Taylor shows up about five-thirty. I’ve been looking forward to this. Hera and I are in another unending sixty nine, and even Phoebe seems to have gotten bored of making videos of us, although she’s still being verbally encouraging. We’ve told him in advance not to knock, he knows the drill. He walks quietly into the house and strips naked before we even know he’s there. Our first warning of his presence is the amused giggle from Phoebe. That, and his cock unexpectedly plunging into me from behind as I crouch over Hera, face down into her sweet nectar, my hands grabbing her ass, lifting her up to my mouth, her hands grabbing mine, pulling my cunt down to hers. Hera giggles as the newly arrived shaft slides over her nose on the way to my entrance, and his balls slap against her forehead.
I’ve been so primed for so long, my orgasm is almost immediate. I howl, and let loose a gush of dense slippery cunt-wine, Hera hoots as it coats the cock she’s licking from below and the excess dribbles straight into her mouth, Phoebe laughs with joy at at the scene of passion and pleasure played out before her.
Taylor’s arrival has spiced things up quite a bit, but I can’t completely let go of control. There’s only one man here, and two cum-hungry women. We both need our share, and Taylor, left to his own devices, is not going to be the best at distributing the favors. Logistics demands that Hera gets showered with his blessings tonight, while I get the first dose of my Recommended Daily Allowance in the morning. I need it to be relatively fresh and retained inside me when I present my charms to Carl later.
Once I’ve got my wits back, and my breath, I roll off of Hera and away from Taylor’s cock. The disappointment is instinctive and sharp, but only lasts for a moment. Hera and I both jump up to greet him, hugging and kissing, pressing our bodies into his. Even Phoebe insists on a total full body contact hug. He wraps his arms around her shoulders and pulls her in, as she gives his ass a hard squeeze with one hand and his sticky-slippery cock a lingering squeeze with the other.
“Whew!” he remarks only half in jest. “It’s ripe in here! Anybody think of opening a window?”
“It’s called immersion,” I inform him. “In ten minutes you won’t notice it at all. And when we shower later you’ll notice the clean smell that much more!”
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