The 19th Hole Ch. 02

13,000 words of smut, should be around 3 pages.
Thank you to everyone who gave me feedback on my previous story. I know many writers have said this already, but the only thing that keeps us writing (or at least makes us care enough to put any effort in) is the hope that others are reading and hopefully enjoying. Hopefully, you'll enjoy this and I encourage you to leave feedback. Good or bad, it's all welcome. Constructive feedback is even more welcome.
For those of you that are watersport fans, there is a bit of that but not as much as the previous chapter.
Everyone in this story is over 18.
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I cursed and muttered and mumbled and swore as I angrily dragged the washcloth across the counter top for the fifth time that morning and then glowered at my watch for what must be at least the fiftieth time.
The counter sparkled, it didn't need cleaning, and I knew perfectly well what time it was, but I needed some way of showing the empty room my annoyance and this was all I could think of doing.
I was deep into what should be my "special time" but they were late. Again! And I was angry that they were late. And right now, the countertop was the subject of my wrath; not that it knew or cared, it just knew that it was shiny and had been cleaned a lot that day.
'Special time' was my time. My reward for all the work I did on Saturday morning whilst they were off golfing and I resented them for not caring enough to respect it although, of course, it was my dirty little secret that they knew nothing about. I know that's irrational, bordering on insane, but not everything we do is rational or sane is it? Certainly the things I do in my 'special time' wouldn't fall into either of those two categories...
I can't remember the first time I got myself off sniffing my daughter's beautifully fragrant panties.
although...
on reflection...
Yes I can...
I don't know why I lied. I don't know how being vague with you about the origins of my story makes it any less embarrassing or easier to tell. I can remember with perfect clarity how it all started and, truth be told, my pussy is fluttering now even as I put pen to paper.
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It was one of those perfect February mornings, it was cold outside but the sun was bright and it streamed through our south facing windows making the dust sprites dance energetically.
As usual they were golfing and I was alone and content with my own company. The fire blazed and my music was too loud and I danced like no one was watching and, perhaps more importantly to this tale, my pussy pulsated with unrequited sexual desire.
I found myself flip flopping between being a Stepford mother, preening her house for her returning brood, and a wanton slut ready to jam her hands into her panties and finger herself to a climax. I'd resisted the latter, content with the stimulation that a pair of tight panties splitting my cleft could give me as I danced and twirled and polished the house to within an inch of its life.
My arousal, my pent up sexual tension, was the result of this morning's unsatisfying sexual romp. Pete wasn't a bad lover, he was kind and caring and gentle and compassionate and he had an impressively big cock, which was nice; it's just that we weren't compatible. It wasn't that we wanted different things, completely the opposite in fact, we both wanted exactly the same thing, for the other to be dominant in bed.
I don't want hanging from the ceiling or dragging around on a leash, I just need for him to be masterful and powerful, to take me and to push me out of my comfort zone. To encourage me, to make me, make me do things that made me feel... well... needed... used... slutty...
That's what I wanted, that's all I needed, for someone to force open the door and shine a light on the sexual depravity deep within my psyche. Sometimes he got there, when he was really turned on his chest would puff out, his back would straighten and his nostrils would flare. Then he would take me and fuck me and use me like his need was painful, and I would orgasm so hard when he did.
But that didn't happen this morning, I'd had a wee orgasm, not a massive earth shattering bone shaker but enough that Pete could feel like he'd done his bit, although most of that orgasm came from my imagination.
I came as I imagined that he'd dragged me to the bedroom, forced me to suck his cock, lifted me into the bed and entered my wet pussy without foreplay. He would take me, stretch me, fill me, fuck me. I imagined he alternated from my cunt, to my ass, to my mouth. He knew I wanted him, knew I was insatiable for his cock. This wasn't rape, we both knew I was his cum slut, he was just taking me as I wanted to be taken. He would cum in me, cum on me, claim me as his own, and then make me suck him clean. I would devour it all, gagging on his shaft, hungrily sucking down his seed like a good sub should. Then, having had his way with me, he would simply leave or better still throw some money at me tipobet365 yeni giriş as I recovered on the bed.
I can't believe that I've just admitted to being turned on at the idea that my husband could treat me like a prostitute but I suspect there are many women who feel the same.
That's what I thought about as he fucked me, that's what I got off on.
Of course it didn't happen like that, it was gentle and loving and caring and timid. I came because I had a filthy imagination and he had a big cock; like I said, it comes in useful. The whole thing felt like foreplay to the fucking I really wanted. That is why I'd been on the edge of getting myself off all morning.
My reverie was broken when they arrived home. They were unusually late but there was something else there too, something different. I couldn't put my finger on it, but they both seemed flustered, maybe slightly out of breath and slightly distant from each other. Gone was the usual closeness, the giggling, the bragging about who had won and what the forfeit was going to be. Just a perfunctory 'hello' before they disappeared to their respective bedrooms to shower.
I figured that they'd had some sort of argument, maybe their competitiveness had just gone too far. I didn't care, they'd get over it soon enough, so I shrugged as I resigned myself to the last chore of the day, washing their golf clothes. As I got to the landing I wasn't surprised to hear both showers running and so I knew the washing hamper would be full.
I flipped open the lid.
My breath caught.
There they were, staring at me, grinning at me, calling to me, Amy's grey cotton briefs, the type that sat high on the hip and pressed tight to one's vagina. I'd seen and handled her underwear many times before, but these looked like they'd been carefully placed on top, arranged so that the gusset was facing upwards, arranged to display their dampness, the slickness, arranged to get my attention; and, in my aroused state, they had certainly done that.
I stared at them for what seemed like an age. Unable to move, unable to think, unable to ignore my throbbing needs. My eyes rested on the obvious signs of arousal, on the damp line that revealed where they'd been sat and I was suddenly hyper aware of my own slickness, my own wetness, and I felt my pussy quiver in anticipation of the indescribable thoughts that were seeding themselves. I forced those thoughts to the back of my mind and made myself look past those deliciously damp, sexy, fragrant, panties as I scooped the entire contents up into my arms.
As I carried the pile of laundry downstairs the panties were sitting on top, just inches from my nose, it made ignoring them impossible. By the time I had reached the wash room I was intoxicated by their scent, their fragrance, her smell. My previously smouldering passions were now a raging inferno.
As I dropped the clothes onto the worktop the panties whispered to me, called to me, tempting me with their erotic naughtiness. I knew they wanted me to smell them, to taste them, to cum with them in my mouth, my daughter's panties called to me, I could hear them as clearly as I can hear myself now. But I'm a good mother and that sort of thing is wrong and so I resisted. Until I heard the washer click into its spin cycle.
'Fuck me! Really? That's such a cliche.' I thought, even as my magnetic pussy drew me closer.
Well hello!
Oh my!
My new friend and I became acquainted as the insistent corner of the machine vibrated and nuzzled itself deep into my delta. My clit joined with every pleasure sensor in my brain and I quickly realised that resistance was futile. Those panties, my daughters' panties, those deliciously soft and fragrant panties, called to me and this time I responded, slowly I raised them to my face.
Im not particularly in to women, at least I wouldn't have classed myself as lesbian or bi. This wasn't about fulfilling some deeply repressed lesbian fantasy; it was just about being dirty. I had a filthy imagination. I like my sex kinky, bordering on debauched and the idea of getting myself off whilst sniffing my daughter's used panties very much appealed to the deviant in me.
I was hesitant at first, feigning reluctance, telling myself that somehow this was something I had to do, not something I wanted to do. I found myself rationalising that this was Pete's fault, blaming my need to satisfy my aching need on the overly gentle sex of this morning.
Truth be told though, it was me, all me. I was such a filthy, debauched sexual deviant and suddenly I didn't want to hide that from myself.
I jammed my nose into the crotch of my daughters' used panties, rubbing them across my face and inhaling her sweet scent. The washing machine was humming its pleasure that it was finally getting to fuck it's mistress and I fucked it back as my clit sought the stimulation it craved.
It was me, all me, all my inner slut fighting to burst out.
The smell was divine, that sweet musky, exotic, tipobet365 giriş erotic smell of an aroused young pussy. I pressed them hard to my face, breathing through that thin cotton, ensuring that the dampest part covered my mouth and nose seeking to maximise the sensation, to stimulate my senses.
I tickled that damp patch with the tip of my tongue, they weren't very wet but that didn't stop me imagining that they were. 'The sweet taste of my daughter's young cunt.' I don't know where that phrase came from but it had my pussy fluttering in anticipation of the orgasm that was brewing deep within. And when I came I came hard!
I folded a crease and pressed them between my fingers so that they looked like they would have when they were pressed to her. I ran my tongue between the fold and imagined that I was pleasuring the pussy beyond, pleasuring her pussy, my daughter's pussy.
I imagined her sliding her panties down her long slim legs, I imagined her placing them for me to find, imagined her watching me now.
My orgasm hit me like a tsunami of sensations and emotions, it roared from my pussy shaking every fibre of my being and I shook and sobbed and cursed and convulsed with its power. I squirted a little into my own panties and relished the slickness as I ground my cunt against my new mechanised friend.
But the inner pervert had been released and one climax was never going to be enough. I hoisted up my skirt and pulled down my own knickers, fuck they were sopping wet; I wished Amy's had been the same. I rubbed our gussets together as I imagined us tribbing. Our wet cunts would slip easily over each other. She would be on top, grinding her cunt against mine, her eyes locked to mine as she stared into my deviant soul, daring me to reveal myself to her.
"Does that feel good Mummy?" she would ask.
Mummy! Fuck! She knew how much that turned me on.
"Is that the cunt I came from Mummy?" She would ask as she explored me with one finger.
"This mommy cunt here?" two fingers deep
Three fingers stretched my pussy now!
"This sopping wet, slutty, mommy cunt! You are my slut mommy aren't you?" she would murmur.
Oh fuck! She called me a slut. My whole body quivered with the excitement of her knowing my true nature.
I was deep inside myself as I mimicked the imagined Amy. My wet fingers penetrating my dripping sex as I fucked myself hard. Panting, rasping breaths came in gulps as I tensed and relaxed as the waves of incestuous pleasure rippled through me. Then my knees gave way and I sagged against the counter as my second climax smashed into me.
I still wasn't spent.
I thought about wearing her knickers so that our cunts could be connected for the day but then I had an even dirtier idea. I caressed my pussy with her gusset, using a finger to split my lips, teasing my tunnel into opening wider, then I pushed about an inch of her panties inside me. I reached behind and bent forward pushing my ass cheeks apart, I found the dangling panties and, being careful not to pull them from my pussy, I pushed a little of them past my tight sphincter.
"You dirty fucking bitch. She's right you are a slut," I whispered to myself as I straightened up, "what the fuck are you doing?"
Of course I knew exactly what I was doing but I was beyond caring. I pressed my dripping, panty filled cunt back onto my new friend and we tangoed again. It felt like I had a bit of Amy's cunt inside mine and the washing machine was fucking me with it and that thought was all it was going to take to get me off again. As I pressed my clit to the washer I reached behind and inserted my finger into my panty filled ass.
"Dirty bitch," I whispered again, as I felt my third release build, "Slutty! Dirty! Fucking! Bitch!"
I pictured Amy's beautiful face, those deep brown eyes, her smooth porcelain skin, those perfect little titties and that neat little pussy. I imagined her walking in on me now, the shock on her face as she realised what she had caught me doing. The humiliation, oh the fucking humiliation, as she discovered that, under this motherly exterior, I was a twisted, fucked up bitch. She would take me to Pete and tell him what she's seen, she would tell him what a slut I was. He would chastise me, punish me, he might even spank me, then fuck me, and cum in me, cum on me, take me, fuck me as punishment. All whilst she watched.
"Fuck her Daddy," she would command, "fuck her slutty cunt, then fuck her in the arse... then fuck her mouth, show her she belongs to us now."
"Nghhhhhh. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuckkkkk!" I screamed through gritted teeth as once again the power of my climax battered my poor body.
And that is how my special time began, that's how I morph every Saturday from nest builder to wanton mummy-slut.
For the first couple of weeks I was full of remorse and shame for what I'd done. Once the incestuous thrill of getting off with Amy's panties had slipped away, I would hate myself; but that didn't last long. I rationalised tipobet365 güvenilirmi that it was just another way of showing love for my daughter, that no one was being harmed and that it was partly Pete's fault for being so passive in our love making. And, after a while, I didn't feel the need to rationalise anything any more, I enjoyed it, I worked hard and I deserved it and that was all that mattered.
I started to plan my special times, what would I wear, what scenario I would play out in my head, I even bought a small vibrator to shove in my arse whilst the washing machine pleasured my cunt.
Then, one day, the tanga briefs were replaced with lace panties.
So fucking hot!
I'd spent the morning whipping my libedo into a frenzy and so when I opened the basket and saw them I almost came. Sensual lace and silk, and they were so creamy. The satin material of the gusset hadn't absorbed her cunt honey the same way the cotton briefs had and they we're still wet to my touch, slick with her juices. I took my time with them. Caressing them, teasing them, tasting them, almost worshipping them. I came so hard with her panties in my cunt that I nearly passed out.
And from that point on, I did start wearing her panties. When I'd had my way with them and my pussy was sore from the battering it had taken, I soothed it by wearing my beautiful young daughter's knickers. Pressing the cool satin gusset against my steaming cunt, using her cream as a salve for my pulsating vulva, I walked around the house with them pressed tight to my sex, hidden only by my knee length skirts, wishing that I could show myself to Pete and Amy so they would know what I'd become. And when later that day I saw Amy gracefully swanning around after her shower, so fresh, so clean, so young, so goddamn adorable, with her cunt honey mixing with mine, I wanted more. I didn't know what 'more' meant but I knew that I would soon no longer be satisfied with sniffing her used panties and the spin cycle.
And then.
A week later...
Oh my!
Oh my word!
Where the fuck did that all that cum come from?
Once I had gotten over my initial shock that my eighteen your old daughter was having sex, my imagination went into overdrive.
I pictured her being fucked behind the green-keeper's hut. Perhaps by one of those nubile young groundsmen. His taut muscular body straining to penetrate her with his equally muscular cock. She would ride him, sweating, swearing, panting, she would fuck him, all whilst daddy waited in the car.
Oh my god! Pete!
Perhaps the young stud fucked her in the car. Suddenly Pete was part of my incestuous fantasies.
'Look Daddy,' she would say 'look how hard his cock is, so big, so fucking big Nnghh. I bet you want to fuck me too daddy, don't you? I bet you're hard now, thinking about fucking me, fucking your little girl's tight cunt.'
Pete would hang his head in shame, unable to admit she was right. She would stroke the arms, the back, grab the arse of her young lover and pull him tight.
'Is this how you fuck Mummy?' she would sneeringly ask, 'I bet it isn't, I bet you can't get it up anymore, I bet your cock is tiny and soft. Nghfff FUCK! He's not! Oooh daddy, my cunt is sooo fucking full.'
Then her young lover would cum in her, rutting like a wild animal he would press himself to her. Trapped beneath his glistening torso she would ride his manhood, writhing against him as he unloaded stream after stream of his hot sticky spunk and she would match him in the power of her own climax.
Afterwards, when they were alone, Amy would open her legs and show Pete her sore, battered, dripping sex.
"Are you looking at my cunt Daddy?" she would ask as she toyed with herself and Pete would shake his head in negation even as his eyes were glued to her delta. She would plunge her finger into her dripping, cum filled sex and then press it between his lips.
"Can you taste him Daddy? Can you taste his spunk? Do you like it?"
Except they weren't his lips, they were mine.
It wasn't him watching, it was me.
Suddenly and so desperately I wanted it to be me.
I wanted to be the one watching as my daughter was fucked by whichever lover was abusing her cunt. I slobbered at the panties devouring the slimy cum, wishing she had forced that finger between my lips.
And then I imagined it was me being fucked by the vibrant young cock and my pussy quivered and creamed as I imagined the scene in the car. I smelled and tasted her cum soaked panties. I pushed them into my sopping cunt as I imagined being fucked by that virulent young stud.
"This is how I want to be fucked, " I whispered to myself as I pictured my cunt being abused with a power that only a young man could muster, "this is what I need."
When I came it felt like an explosion, my toes curled and every part of me tensed at once before the sudden release had me in a sloppy mess on the floor. I'm sure I passed out, if only for a few seconds, but as I came round, as my post orgasmic glow faded, I thought I heard noises in the hall outside. My brain was too fuzzy to be sure but as soon as I could move I straightened myself out, pulled the panties from my cunt, and hid those silky objects of my desire away for later, I wasn't quite finished with them.