Note :This story is completely fictional!

The girl with the ring through her eyebrow hadn’t yet put back on her clothes and was standing naked in the kitchen, her head tilted back as she took a long swig of the bottled water she had found in the fridge. Maxine, wearing only a bath robe open at the front, stood by the kitchen door and smiled. She wandered over to the girl, so slim and sensuous, her body still a little clammy after their early morning sex, and placed an arm over each shoulder, lowered the girl’s head and kissed her on the forehead. The girl took the cue, set down the bottle and expectantly raised her lips up to Maxine’s mouth: slightly open and her breath a touch short. Maxine plunged her tongue deep into the girl’s mouth, skimmed her teeth over the sharp incisors and encircled the tongue around and around her own, the drool of shared saliva bubbling up and spilling out of the corner of their conjoined mouths.

Maxine gently pushed her face off the girl’s. Christ! Her jaw ached, but then kissing wasn’t the only amorous activity she and this girl had been practising through the long morning and into the (yes! It was!) the early afternoon. Her jaw was as totally fucked as the rest of her.

She idly ran her fingers down the girl’s chest and squeezed the erect button-like nipple in her fingers and twiddled it, her other arm still around the girl’s neck.

“So, what did you say your name was?” she asked.

Maxine didn’t get to hear because suddenly she heard the phone ring. Fuck! Who could that be? She was contemplating leaving the phone be, but she thought better of it. Saturday night was on the way, and there might be plans to make, friends to meet, more women to fuck. She slithered out of the girl’s arms, her bathrobe slipping down one shoulder and the whole of a rounded, aroused breast on show, glided across the kitchen tiles and picked up the cordless phone.

“Yes. Who is it?”

“Is Misty there? It’s her mother.”

“Misty’s Mum?”

“Yes, is she there?”

Maxine sighed. Misty wouldn’t be well pleased. She could hear her gasps of coital pleasure coming from the other bedroom where she was with the bloke she’d picked up, while Maxine had, as usual, got the girl. What was the bloke’s name? Mike? Mark? Fuck knows. She didn’t even know the name of the really gorgeous, if rather short, girl she’d been getting to know in the most intimate way possible all night long.

“She’s here, but she’s busy!”

“She can’t be that busy not to talk to her mother. I’d really like to talk to her now if I can.”

Maxine had never met Misty’s Mum, but she’d spoken to her often enough on the phone to know that she wasn’t a woman who could be easily fobbed off. She also knew that there was some kind of messy divorce going on with Misty’s father, whom her best friend had never been that close to, and that Misty would probably be quite annoyed not to have got the call.

“Okay, Mrs Milton. I’ll take you to Misty.”

Maxine pushed open the door to Misty’s room, the one the two girls often shared during the week, and felt that usual pang of disgust and slight jealousy when she saw that Misty was being fucked. She was naked and perpendicular to the bed and, also naked, Mike’s (or Mark’s) recumbent body lying on his back, his penis erect and firmly sheathed within Misty’s wide-open and gushing vagina. Misty was pumping steadily up and down, like a sensuous piston-engine, the shininess of her vaginal juices and all the semen sparkling in the early afternoon sun as it shone through the curtained window. She was grunting softly, but paused in her thrusts when she saw Maxine proffer her the phone.

“Who is it?” she hissed. “You can see I’m busy!”

“It’s your Mum!” said Maxine, handing over the phone hastily and standing by the door, unsure whether to stay for the handset or to leave and return to unfinished business with the girl in the kitchen.

Misty put a finger to her lips to tell the man beneath her not to make a sound and still moving slowly up and down, up and down, on the erect penis, she placed the phone under her dyed blonde shoulder-length hair and supported her other hand on her upper thigh.

“Yeah Mum?”

Misty frowned.

“You what? You can’t be serious? When?”

Her eyebrows raised up her unfurrowed brow, while she adjusted the penis still inside her and grunted assent to what was being said. “Yeah … Hmm … Yes … Are you sure? … Yeah. OK! … I guess you’ll have to … Tomorrow? Bit soon, isn’t it? … Hmm! Yes. OK! Bye Mum! …”

It looked like Misty was about to return the phone to Maxine, so her friend leaned over the bed for it, an elbow indenting the sheet near a masculine thigh she was glad Misty was getting to know rather than her.

“Yeah! Yeah! Bye Mum!”

She clicked the button on the phone and handed it back to Maxine.

“It’s only my fucking Mum! She’s coming down to stay with us. Apparently, there’s too much shit for her to stay at home. My Dad’s being a right fucking bastard about the settlement. The cunt! I hate him.”

Maxine took the phone and stood back off the bed while Misty eased her bosom down onto the man’s black-haired chest, his pubic hairs tangling amongst the trim and tidy hairs of Misty’s crotch, while the couple returned again to the rhythm of their thrusts with a more passionate, insistent tempo.

“When’s she coming? Not too soon?”

“Yes! Yes!” gasped Misty, partly to Maxine and partly to Mike (or Mark). “Wednesday, I think. Maybe, yes! Maybe, uhh! Yes! Thursday perhaps. Yes! Fuck me! Fuck me!”

Maxine could see that Misty had got a little excited from the kinkiness of chatting with her mother whilst being fucked at the same time. That was almost the thing she liked most about her best friend and her most frequent lover, that there was just no event she couldn’t twist to its best erotic advantage. If it hadn’t meant clambering past a body jerking and thrusting under Misty’s own vigorous reciprocal thrusts, she’d have leaned over and kissed Misty out of sheer love. And probably would have done so had Misty only brought home a woman instead of a man.

Maxine eased close the door and carried the phone back to the kitchen. At least, Maxine’s Mum wasn’t the sort to spend too long chatting on the phone. With any luck, the girl with the little silver ring above her eye would still be in the kitchen and still naked. Maxine felt like having a little more fun before the day got properly under way.

Misty’s mother was a tall, thin woman in her forties, who dressed smartly and bore some considerable resemblance to her daughter. Maxine could see the similarities in the slightly pointed nose, the arched eyebrows, the long serpentine neck, and, most of all, in the angular sharpness of her knees, which she kept stockinged but clearly visible below the hem of her Nichole Farrhi business skirt. Maxine agreed to spend every night in Misty’s bedroom for the duration of her mother’s stay, something which wasn’t too much problem most nights, but might be a problem if Misty brought back a male lover. She didn’t want a repetition of the time with that ghastly man with the fat cock who thought that just because he was in bed with two women, he had two vaginas he could penetrate.

“You sure you don’t mind sharing with my daughter?” wondered Mrs Milton.

Maxine shook her head. “I don’t mind at all. I just hope you find my bed comfortable.”

“I’m sure I will. And it will be strange indeed to be sleeping in a bedroom surrounded by so many pictures of naked women.”

Maxine blushed. It was obvious to her that Misty’s mother had either already known or had just astutely guessed what her main interests were. “As long as you’re comfortable,” she repeated. “That’s the main thing.”

“And that you don’t get bored, Mum,” Misty commented, leaning against the kitchen sink, a cigarette in one hand and wearing the quite severe business suit which she’d worn in the office all day. So much smarter than Maxine herself, but then there was no need to dress stylishly in the software consultancy where she worked. “It’s going to be bloody boring being here all day.”

“There’s plenty to do in the city, dear. And it’s a bloody relief just to get away from all that shit with your bloody father. He drives me spare! And, if you don’t mind, you couldn’t offer me a cigarette would you?”

Misty opened the cigarette packet that was sticking out of her Prada handbag and handed it to her mother. “I didn’t know you smoked, Mum.”

“I don’t. Well, I haven’t since you were a little girl. But my nerves! They’re bloody torn to pieces!”

It wasn’t that easy for Maxine to accommodate her life around Misty’s mother. Maxine’s evenings were now compromised by having to watch television programs that appealed to such an older woman. Maxine didn’t know before that there were so many drama programmes on the set. And she was more than a little bored by the soap operas which featured people she’d never heard of before and the permutations of their complex lives of which she rather wished she’d remained ignorant.

Thankfully, Misty’s mother didn’t take up smoking with quite her daughter’s enthusiasm; otherwise life would have become truly unbearable. But it was a relief at the end of the day when Mrs Milton finally returned to her bedroom. Then, Maxine and Misty could themselves retreat to Misty’s bed, in a room rather cluttered now that all Maxine’s clothes and possessions were crammed together with Misty’s own. Maxine was somewhat shy now of going into her own bedroom whilst there was the risk of meeting Mrs Milton.

She wasn’t sure why she was so shy. After all, it was her room. The two girls had only chosen to share Misty’s bedroom because it was the larger of the two. But she somehow didn’t want such an older woman, and her best friend’s mother at that, seeing her undressed or naked. And she was quite shy about making love with only the thickness of the walls between the woman who was the object of her passion and the mother of that woman. Not that this is in any way inhibited Misty, who was exactly the same as ever in how vocal she was in her lovemaking, unrestrained in the thrashing of her limbs and adventurous in the extent to which she would push the limits of their mutual sexual gratification.

“So, what do you think of my Mum?” asked Misty after a few days.

Maxine sighed. “I’ll be pleased when she’s gone and we can return to normal life again. And I can have my own room to myself.”

“Don’t you like sharing with me?” teased Misty, squeezing her lover’s clitoris between her fingers.

“It’s not that. Not that at all,” Maxine sighed, surrendering herself once again to pleasure.

“But what do you think of my Mum?” insisted Misty. “As a person?”

Maxine thought she was almost an older version of her daughter. And it wasn’t just the family resemblance. They were both women who knew what they wanted and knew how to get it. And she was sure that Misty’s mother, when she was at work, which she used to do in the business she had once co-owned with Misty’s father, was just as aggressive in a business suit as she knew Misty to be. But she loved Misty all the same despite, and perhaps because of, her self-assuredness and self-confidence. Perhaps if she loved Misty she should also love her mother.

“She’s okay. Very nice. What about you? Do you still think as highly of your mother now you’re seeing so much more of her?”

This was partly intended to remind Misty of her past eulogising on her mother, who over the distance of a few miles had taken on some kind of mythical quality.