“Ride’ll be here before long, Mrs M.”

She was on the couch in the living room in the grey dawn. She’d been sitting there since she woke up. Snow in the forecast. Might have slept there, for all she remembered. The house was chilly and quiet. In the dull pervading hush you could feel the promise of weather.

“I just wanted to let you know how much I’ve appreciated you and Hal’s hospitality.”

She knew this girl. Gwineth’s friend from college. The tall girl. “That’s very gracious of you, thank you, dear,” she said. “We’ve so enjoyed having you.”

Mrs M gazed down at herself, down her bare legs, stretched out in front of her and crossed at the ankle. She was naked. In the dimness her skin looked shockingly pale. I should have put something on, she told herself. She wasn’t cold though, and felt no interest in getting up.

Gwin’s friend propped herself against the arm of the big club chair in the corner and turned on the standing lamp next to it. She smiled. “There’s something especially relaxing about going nude in your own home, don’t you find?”

“That’s very true,” Mrs M said earnestly. She was glad the girl understood. She smiled back and uncrossed her ankles. “I’m always much more comfortable being nude when I’m at home. It makes me feel so open and accepting.”

The girl slung her backpack off her shoulder and onto the chair seat. She was a gangly plain stick-figure girl with no fashion sense for herself, but a good friend for Gwin to have made nonetheless. A role model. Same age but more mature than Gwin, worldly, more the intellectual type. Her dull, unruly hair caught the light in a frazzled nimbus and whelmed the rest of her face into shadow. Something in Mrs M quailed at the vision: a faceless woman with a head of flame looming in the corner like some figure out of myth, a harbinger, a fate.

She’d had a dream. The lamp on over the club chair, Gwinnie and her friend ensconced in it together. Lily, that was her name. Short for Liliane. Gwin was naked, sprawled in Lily’s lap. Her and Hal on either end of the couch sitting facing them. They were naked too, everyone but their guest. Someone called a family cum-off, and the three of them got to masturbating. It came to Mrs M with some surprise that she’d never seen her daughter fuck herself with her fingers before.

A noise of movement on the second floor woke Mrs M out of her brown study. Her first thought was Hal was stirring, but when the light came up on the landing she could tell it was Gwineth. Early for her. But then today was the day, Mrs M remembered dismally: break was officially over. They had to push out soon to get a jump on the storm.

Only just got there, and now her baby was going away again. Why did she never think to take pictures. She’d wake up tomorrow and the visit would have been a hundred years ago, the memory as threadbare and yellowed as a scrap of old newspaper. Ain’t that life, she heard her own mother say, long to look forward to, short to pass. A sharp pang settled in under Mrs M’s heart. She shifted her head to get a better angle on the stairs.

They’d gone with Slutty Schoolgirl for Gwineth’s road costume. She came slinking down in a tight white uniform blouse, buttons all but popping beneath her breasts, and a pleated mini-tartan that teased an inch or two of bare thigh over her dark, ribbon-gathered stockings. A short rep tie nestled inside her open cleavage. She hovered her clunky black patent-leather platforms in the air over every step, as if it was on the shoe to remember to drop. One hand skimmed along the stair rail, the other kept the front of her skirt lifted, flashing the bright red of a pair of low-slung panties. Every time a foot landed her pushed-up tits shook and the blouse crimped and puckered around the rings in her nipples. Under a dark cloud of mascara and drawn-out eyeliner the girl’s face was sulky and inward.

She had a collar around her neck with a length of chain clipped on. The collar said ‘WHORE’ on it spelled out in rhinestones. Gwin held the leather strap at the end of the chain lightly between her teeth, as lightly as if she had no idea at all of it being there.

Mrs M flicked a glance at her crotch and saw she was touching herself. Just a little; just with the ends of her fingers brushing along her pussy lips. She caught Lily’s eye and blushed. “Where are my manners,” said Mrs M. It sounded less apologetic than flirtatious. “I’m afraid it’s becoming quite the habit with me lately.”

Lily nodded towards Gwin, who’d come to a halt just outside the living room threshold. “Can’t hardly blame you, Mrs M, not with a piece like this running around the house.”

Her daughter stood unseeing and unmoving, swaying slightly in her high shoes as if she dangled from an invisible thread. Mrs M beamed at her. “You’re serving major cunt today Gwinnie,” she simpered. Nothing in the the girl’s posture or expression acknowledged her. Mrs M remembered her hand, and snuck it under an ass cheek as a hedge against temptation. “Am I saying that right?”

“She’s annoyed I got her up,” Lily said. Looking amused, the tall girl pushed herself off the armrest and walked over to the entryway. “Alright, pouty bitch.” She dropped her hand to her hip, palm out. “Yield.”

Gwin’s ass started to grind as if the word had gone straight between her legs. She undulated down from the waist till she was poised directly over Lily’s hand, opened her mouth and let the lead fall. “Showoff,” Lily said. She smirked at Mrs M from the corner of her eye. “Tell you she didn’t like me when we first met? Kinda mean about it, actually.” She slipped the strap over her knuckles while Gwin squirmed herself and her big rack back upright. “And now look at you,” she said softly, giving her the leather to nuzzle with her cheek.

In the dream Gwin was pouting about her pussy being sore from edging, and she didn’t want to play. Mrs M said one filthy thing after another to her trying to get her going. She was laser focused on wanting to see her daughter cum all over her girlfriend’s lap.

“Now she’s your favorite whore, isn’t she Miss Lily,” Mrs M said with a throb of pride. My little girl.

Lily withdrew the leash and pulled Gwineth up into a kiss. The slut went limp with surrender, as if only the kiss itself kept her from swooning dead away. What light there was from outside grew duller; Mrs M received it as an omen of departure. She felt her hand drift back to her pussy and sighed and let it. Soon enough that’d be all she had to keep her company. Languishing on the couch in the chill she watched the girls bond and felt a tug of nostalgia for the dream orgasm she and Gwin hadn’t got to share.

A heavy thud from upstairs interrupted them. Mrs M shook her head and pushed herself into more of a sitting posture. Lily glanced up and then turned her gaze out the window. After a moment reading the sky she gave Mrs M a wink. “There’s a little time yet,” she said. She kissed Gwinnie on the forehead and looped the end of the leash a couple turns about her wrist. “Whyn’t you go cuddle with Mommy.”

Gwin, still pouting, clomped over to the couch and tossed herself into the narrow space between her mother and the armrest and curled up in it. She heaved a dramatic sigh. She slung a stockinged leg across Mommy’s lap and buried her head in Mommy’s shoulder. “She’s a little sad to be leaving,” Lily said. Mrs M put her cheek to the top of Gwin’s head and inhaled the warm scent of her hair. “Go on doll, tell Mommy how much you’ll miss her.”

When Gwin raised her head her eyes were shining, and for the first time since she’d come downstairs Mrs M saw recognition in them. Saw her own Gwinnie. “I’ll miss you Mommy,” the girl murmured, her voice faltering, and raised her lips to her mother’s lips and kissed her.

Mrs M’s own eyes moistened. “Miss you more, sweetie,” she whimpered. It had been such a long while since her little girl had done that. When she kissed Gwin back it lingered between them, and only broke when Mrs M remembered they were still in the kiss; and only to the point their noses and foreheads stayed in touch. Mrs M closed her eyes and breathed, and her daughter breathed with her. Now the time had come and there was nothing she could come up with to say. She begged internally for just a few more minutes. Despairing of her goodbye she reached for another kiss, then another, and their tongues touched and she felt it spark between them, and then there was nothing at all on Mrs M’s mind but never having to stop.

A commotion on the landing gave her a start, but Gwinnie trapped her face in her hands to keep her mind from wandering, and the kissing turned deeper and more insistent. They moved about some and Gwin’s thigh found itself trapped between Mommy’s legs. Mrs M got goosebumps from a rush of cold air coming in the front, and two big thuds sounded on the stairs, followed by a man’s voice swearing under its breath. Hal. He’s lugging the bags all by himself, she thought. Of course without a word to anybody. He’d better be wearing his back brace at least.

Gwinnie’s weight, little as it was, kept pushing her mother deeper into the couch. Every time they moved the girl’s leash dragged across her collarbone. Her outer leg had risen of its own accord till it was draped almost over Gwin’s ass, and Mrs M realized she was just inches away from grinding her naked pussy against her daughter’s pelvis. She wondered if Hal or anyone had noticed. She wondered if someone wasn’t going to come and try to pull them apart.

The front door slammed shut, just as Gwin’s fingers found her mother’s nipple and pinched it. Mrs M’s eyes flew open. She saw Miss Lily standing a few feet away with her phone in her hand, taking video of them. “Whatcha up to there, Mrs M?” the girl asked.

“Cuddling!” she bleated. The question disjointed her. The pain under her heart grew and shifted, and Mrs M felt a raw flush of guilt sweep over her, and couldn’t tell for what. All she knew was, she was innocent. Nobody could say otherwise. Gwin trailed her tongue up Mommy’s jaw and started savaging her ear with her teeth. Mrs M wondered if she was in another dream. “I’m cuddling with my whore daughter.”

“Title card,” Lily muttered. She came to the couch and got up onto her knees on the cushion next to them and got her phone set. Mrs M watched her and tried to ignore between her ear and her tit just how hot the little whore was getting her. “It’s nice for mommies and daughters to cuddle, isn’t it?”

And now you’re taking her away! She had to blink back tears. “It’s such a comfort,” Mrs M whispered.

“Most natural thing in the world.” Lily nudged Mrs M’s leg down, took the leash from Gwineth’s wrist and arranged it to drape down over her mother’s thigh.

“It’s the most natural thing in the world,” Mrs M wailed into the camera. Her face was twitching, and she seemed just barely holding herself together. Lily awwwed and reached down to brush a tear off with her thumb, and that was all it needed for Mrs M to give up the struggle and let herself break down for real.

“Missed a trick not putting you in mascara,” Lily said. “Still, prime content.”

After a time she heard the front door close again, and Mrs M came back to herself. She felt washed out by the intensity of her and her daughter’s goodbye. Gwin was kissing her neck, flicking lazily at her nipple with her thumbnail. Miss Lily picked up the strap end of the leash off her thigh. “Alright sluts, time to go.” She swatted Gwin’s ass cheek with it. “Give Mommy your going-away present.”

Gwinnie yelped and glared reproachfully at Lily, and kept glaring while she shifted her bottom and pulled her hand down off Mommy’s tit and snuck it up under her skirt. Mrs M could feel it on her thigh, her daughter pushing her panties aside and pushing into herself, the little squirms she made to find her fingers a good angle. When they got where they were going she cooed and grinned at Mrs M wickedly. She fucked her hand, just a few strokes, deep and relaxed, just to show off what a wet ready whore she was. Maybe a few more than necessary. She watched her mother watch her, open-mouthed. When she pulled out she made a cute exaggerated squeak and said “Open wide, Mommy” in a baby voice and held her slick fingers up to Mommy’s face to admire.

Mrs M knew there was no part of her that didn’t want to do as Gwinnie said. Her eyes closed and her lips closed over her daughter’s present and she sucked. She heard a woman groan, deep, a soul groan. A girl giggled nearby. A draft of cold air set her shivering, and the world went dark around her daughter’s musk.

Hal entered the living room in one of his dumb “Kiss the Cook”  aprons, carrying a tv tray. He’d been clattering around out there in the kitchen a while now, ever since she’d come to on the couch. Seeing her there he paused, hugging the tray to his chest. “Oh hey!” he said, “you’re up.” He set the tray down at the other end from her and popped the legs in place.

“I, uh, I made myself some eggs,” he said, gesturing behind him, “but if you want …”

She was resting sprawled out on her back in her corner of the couch, head against the seat cushion. She didn’t move or say anything, just closed her eyes and lolled her head slowly back and forth in a no.

“Ohhhkay then,” Hal said. He retreated towards the kitchen.

Gray morning. Snow in the forecast. It was hard to tell what time it was. I should’ve told him coffee, she thought, but hadn’t the energy to raise her voice. Never mind. Later.

Hal came back and clapped down a plate, utensils and a mug, all in a single clatter. “Girls got off okay,” he said, sliding in and rattling things some more. He flipped on the set, looking for the weather channel. “Hope they can stay ahead of the snow.”

She didn’t want to hear about the snow. She’d woken up horny and unfulfilled, like after a sex dream, and the emptiness between her legs made her want to weep. She wondered if it was worth trying to get herself off. She stroked along her thigh with her fingertips, gazing aside towards the whited-out front window, waiting for the touch to blossom into someone else’s, a sexy young girl’s maybe. A sexy girl with big tits who liked to climb on top of older women and smother them and ravish their pussies.

Hal was eyeing her sidelong. “You chilly at all like that?” he asked.

She shrugged, and kept stroking. Under his apron Hal was as naked as she was. “You?” she asked in return.

“Me? Nuh-uh.” He popped a piece of bacon in his mouth and plucked at the front of his apron a couple of times, to indicate its character as a garment. “Toasty,” he said confidently.

Listlessly she traced around the outside of her pussy lips. It was getting her nowhere. You gotta go or I do for this to work, she thought at Hal. If only there was an atom of her outside her hand she had the power to move.

Dissatisfied with the weather channel, Hal picked up the remote again. “Oh hey’d I tell ya?” he said. “Miss Lily worked with me on the, ah, the streaming thing, you know? Off the phones? Helped me get it goin.” He flipped the tv input. “Yeah, so we can do that now.”

His phone dinged. “Well lookit there!” Hal grabbed it with a pleased expression and held the screen up briefly for his wife to see. “Speak of the devil,” he said. He held the phone a little away from him, at his reading distance, and squinted at the message in concentration.

“It’s a link,” he said. “I think maybe it’s, uh, whaddaya call a ‘live’ stream? Maybe? Haven’t got the hang a this yet.” He made a few cautious, frowning taps, then his face cleared. “There ya go!” Another minute of intent staring and then he was holding the phone ceremonially aloft, pointed at the tv, and when he mashed his thumb down a video image flashed and stuttered to life on the 50-inch screen.

“You know they usually make people subscribe for this kinda thing. Content, whaddayacall.” Hal reached behind him and undid the bottom strings of his apron. “Pay good money too, I bet. But you know what Lily says? She says anytime she sends us anything to watch like this, any of her content, for us it’s free.” He put his hands up under his apron and maneuvered the tv tray to one side with his foot. Mrs M could see he was already at least half hard. “Free gratis.” He started working his right hand gently up and down, the apron tenting and collapsing over it. “Nice girl, that Lily. Respectful.”

An almost dead ringer for Gwinnie, if Gwinnie had been a gothed-out fuck doll, rode alone in the back seat of a limo, the sky behind her winter-slate. She wore nothing but a thick black dog collar and dark thigh-high stockings with pink bows on top, and she was working mechanically to stuff a painfully too-large dildo inside her, moaning at every millimeter’s thrust, her big pierced tits shuddering. She looked lost. There was no pleasure in her face, no awareness, nothing but discomfort and compulsion. A female hand reached out from behind the camera and tapped her on the knee, and the brunette propped her foot up on the seat next to her to open her pussy a bit more. The hand came back into frame with a thing of lube, and squirted it all around the girl’s swollen, cherry-red labia.

“Real nice,” gasped Mrs M. She was drenched. She slid her two middle fingers inside, deep and relaxed, and shut her eyes. In the ebb and flow of the limo slut’s moans she could feel the wave gathering. “Real nice girl.”