Chapter 37: A Mother’s Shove (Down into Surrender)

Belinda parked, and for a long time she couldn’t take her hands off of the wheel. If anything, her grip only tightened as she stared ahead, looking at nothing more interesting or exciting than a calm sidewalk.

Even if half the block exploded she might not have noticed.

She finally said it. Why am I not happy?

Frowning, Belinda actively resisted the urge to slam her head down into her steering wheel to scream using her horn instead of her voice. Tears filled her eyes but refused to fall, or to build up more than the slightest little bit. She shoved her arms forward, but the unyielding steering wheel robbed her of any satisfying feeling of movement. The car around her remained perfectly still, and no amount of scowling would change it.

Claire—talking about how beautiful I am and feeling awful she didn’t realize it sooner—should make me painfully happy.

I don’t even care if she wants to keep fucking her mothers.

Her grip finally loosened. She exhaled, letting a breath escape that had felt trapped inside of her since before she’d left Patricia’s home. It felt better, but not quite better enough to want to get out of her car.

…I might get jealous if she never lets me join in, with how gorgeous they both are, but…

Belinda sighed, finally releasing her steering wheel before grabbing out her phone. There were new messages, but she didn’t want to read them. If any of there were from Claire she simply wasn’t ready for them yet. Until she understood how she was feeling and found a way to move forward, she wasn’t going to do well talking with Claire.

She tried her best to not think about how the way she left might have already made things much more difficult than they needed to be. Her only hope was that Claire’s regrets about being a jerk were strong enough to make up for her not communicating her feelings in the best of ways.

Maybe talking to my mom will help. She paused before opening the door of her car, handle half pulled. The other day I joked that I’d lend my mom to Claire.

Wonder how much she read into that…

Smirking made it easier to move.

She made her way inside, and sighed loudly. It felt instantly better to be at home. She slid off her jacket, carrying it with her as she moved to lay across the couch with one of her arms hanging off the side. It was late enough in the day that there was no way her mood would recover enough to make going to class worth it, but not so late that her mother would be out of her office.

A little time to herself, eyes closed, without even glancing towards her phone, felt like a really nice idea.

“Welcome home!”

Belinda fluttered her eyes open. Her mother was standing in front of the couch. She hadn’t made any sound until just then. It wasn’t eerie or bothersome, more embarrassing.

It took her a few moments to find her voice, but when Belinda finally did she was even able to manage a convincing smile. “Thank you. I didn’t want to bother you in your office. Aren’t you still… working…?”

Lauren’s hand was stroking strands of Belinda’s black hair from her face, but the touch felt so much more than maternal. The way her nails grazed Belinda’s scalp, the way her skin felt against Belinda’s skin, it made all of her body feel hypersensitive at once. Her eyes fluttered, struggling to keep from hooding as her hips slowly squirmed. It was such a tender touch, but under ordinary circumstances it wouldn’t have felt nearly as stimulating.

From the top of her head down to the tips of Belinda’s toes, she was shifting, or squirming, twitching or shuddering, caught up in the raw feelings of erotic sensations dripping off of her mother and pouring deep inside of her. Her breath quickened. Her face flushed.

If her panties weren’t already thoroughly ruined from a single of Claire’s touches, they would have been well on their way from Lauren’s.

“What’s more important than my little girl?” Something about Lauren’s smile was wrong, but Belinda couldn’t figure out quite what it was. It wasn’t that it was warm. Her mother could be difficult, but Lauren was warm and supportive, too. It wasn’t the way her eyes seemed a little softer.

Somehow it was a trait that couldn’t be seen, only felt, but Belinda could feel it.

She felt it the same way she felt the tingling across her chest, and just behind her eyes.

Lauren’s fingers pressed harder across her daughter’s scalp, just enough of a bite to inject so much desire right into her daughter’s mind. Belinda’s heart beat faster and faster until she could feel each pump of blood dripping hot, sticky lust down along her thighs. Her eyes crossed, and she whined as tremors moved down her spine and shook her fingertips that struggled to curl, or do more than hang limply at the end of her hands.

“I… Mo-om…!” Belinda’s breath caught in her throat, and her thighs clenched in such a tight, inescapable way. Her arm hanging over the couch wouldn’t lift—it felt too heavy. Her legs couldn’t help her. Even if she could rise, her knees were tightening and loosening on their own.

“You’re stressed, Belinda. You’ve been thinking too much about that Claire girl.” Lauren’s smile grew as she reached out her second hand feeling slowly along her daughter’s cheek with the very tips of her nails. “Let mommy take care of you. Let mommy make everything feel so much better.”

Belinda screamed.

Her nails are on my face… But I feel them…

Everywhere..!

Nails raked along the most sensitive curves of her breasts. Nails trailed up along the insides of her thighs. Nails dug into her ass, teasing their way so close to her quivering, trembling pussy.

Belinda whimpered, and the sound was more drenched in hot sticky arousal than bewildered confusion or anything else that Belinda wanted to communicate.

“That’s it, Belinda. Let mommy make you feel so much better. Mommy is always here for you, you know that.” Her nails moved along Belinda’s other cheek, and Belinda’s breathing dissolved into sharp, quick panting as her eyes crossed, and her mouth fell open. “You don’t need to fight it. You need to let go.

“You need to let mommy make you feel good.”

“O-ohhhh… M-mommyyyy…!” Belinda groaned. Everything about the ways that her mother was touching her were too powerful for such simple touches, making her clit scream like a pair of lips wrapped around it instead of touches all the way at her face, but it was harder and harder to hold onto how wrong it felt when her mother’s skin, her mother’s nails, her mother’s presence was igniting a passion in her that rivaled or even surpassed the passion she’d felt when Claire straddled her. “This… this is wrong… y-you… you need to stop…!”

Even when she remembered how to speak well enough to communicate a complete idea, Belinda couldn’t trust herself to communicate what she really wanted. Her voice sounded so much less like she was trying to make her mother stop, and so much more as though she were getting off on the idea of how inappropriate it supposedly was.

Sweat coating her body wasn’t helping with that, and neither was the way her thighs were rubbing together. Belinda couldn’t lie still. She couldn’t control her breathing.

But wanting her mother to touch her more, wanting to drown in those feelings?

That was tantalizing, offering such an easy release from any lingering discomfort.

She’s… she’s… my mother…! Belinda groaned as her mother’s nail teased along the curve of her ear. It was such a delicate touch, so soft and to such a vulnerable place. Belinda felt it along her slit. I’m not… I’m not Claire… I… I don’t want… don’t want to fuck my own mother…!

Lauren sighed, and leaned over her daughter so the very tips of their noses touched. “Belinda… My little Bel…” Her lips were so close to Belinda’s, so close that she could feel each movement, and somehow even the soft, wet sound of Lauren’s lips pulling apart promised such dark, alluring pleasures. “Mommy needs to help you until you stop being such a silly little thing. Don’t you want to feel good…? Don’t you want your mommy to make everything feel better?”

Belinda whimpered, her lips trembling as her mother’s drew closer and closer.

She’s… my mother… and she wants… she only ever wants to make everything feel… better… Belinda gasped, her hips bucking up hard as she felt her mother’s hand slowly move down along her neck to stroke along her collarbone. She’s… always trying… to take care of me… I… Shouldn’t… I’m not… This… this is wrong… b-ut…

“Belinda…” Lauren sighed, breathing across her daughter’s lips. “I’ve been strict with you, but it’s only for your own good. Mommy’s house, mommy’s rules… and right now…”

Don’t… say it… Belinda groaned, fighting her neck’s impulse to move her head forward, to mash her lips into her mother’s. I’ve… always… always tried to be good… could always… always trust you to set… expectations… to… p-push me to where I need to go…!

“Mommy’s rules say that good little girls need to let their mommy’s make them cum…” Lauren’s nail teased over to a hard nipple, flicking it in a way that made every nerve in both of Belinda’s breasts scream as intensely as if her mother’s tongue were running sensuously along every curve in the most perfect of ways. “Then it will be so much easier to talk through all of your problems… Here… let me make you more comfortable…”

If… if Claire does this with her mothers… and it’s… but… but her mothers are… are obeying her, but my mother… my mommy… mommy… I… I shouldn’t want this…!

Her mother pulled off her top, and popped open her bra. Its hooks were in the front, and for some reason that made so much of Belinda’s mind salivate and clench. It was even worse when Lauren’s touches stopped just long enough for her to lift Belinda from her position on the couch only to sit there herself, and cradle Belinda’s head to her now naked chest.

She’s so… warm…

She’s so…

Soft…!

Lauren smiled, and her touches to Belinda’s ear, to the small of Belinda’s back, the feeling of being held, all of it made the younger, smaller woman feel so powerless.

Her lips twitched, aching to do something more than be held back from giving in. Her body arched and ached, pulsing and throbbing with desperation and need. Belinda’s entire existence was feeling her struggle, her ability to hold on to herself and her knowledge of what she’d wanted the moment before, getting harder and harder as her mind grew fuzzier with lust.

“Mommy’s house… Mommy’s rules… Be a good daughter for mommy… be a good girl for me… I can take care of you… I can make everything better…”

Belinda mewled as her face was rubbed against her mother’s chest.

I… want… to relax… I want… to feel better… I… t-trust my mommy… I… want to be a good daughter…! Belinda screamed in frustration. This… is bad… this is wrong but I… it’s harder… to be sure… when she says… when she wants…

“I want to be a good girl!” Belinda screamed it as loud as her lungs would allow. “I want to be a good daughter for mommy!”

Her pussy twitched, rewarding her with pleasure and relief.

“Good girl…!” Lauren smiled. “Then let mommy kiss everything better…”

Kiss… everything… kiss… me… oh… oh if she kisses me…! Belinda’s lips felt as sensitive as the pair between her legs. Her eyes could barely open, and the thin slits that peered out were lost in such deep, inescapable lust. I might… I might…

“Mommy’s house…” Lauren whispered, and her daughter groaned.

“…Mommy’s… rules…!”

Belinda responded, and their lips pressed together.

Belinda came, and the last of her struggles faded away as she gave in to her mother’s dominant lust. I want this… I need this… s-some part of me almost hurts, feels… like… gears… grinding… feels… like… want… Claire… need… Claire but…

She moaned, and her mother’s tongue coaxed more pleasure from her own. It sizzled, hot and wet down her spine.

Claire might hate me now…

She might not love me anymore…

The grinding feeling squeezed tighter, and tighter. Every moment felt like it stretched longer, making the kiss all the more agonizing as Belinda was denied the full feeling, the full surrender of her mother’s mouth.

I can’t worry about her right now…

I want… to be Mommy’s good daughter…

When she kissed back, when she stopped fighting, stopped resisting, her mother’s tongue moved faster. Her heart beat harder.

She came again, staining her panties from the simple pleasure of her mother’s mouth.