“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 the U. 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. But the thought had no power to move her.

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, but a good friend for Gwinnie to have made nonetheless. Role model type. Same age but more mature than Gwin, worldly, more the intellectual. Her dull, unruly hair caught the light in a frazzled nimbus and whelmed the rest of her face into shade. Mrs M felt herself taken by a vision: a faceless woman with a head of flame looming towards her like an oracle from its niche; a portent, a harbinger.

She remembered a dream. The lamp on over the club chair, evening, Gwinnie and her friend ensconced there together. Lily, that was her name. Short for Liliane. Gwin was naked, sprawled boneless across Lily’s lap, dull and worn out from doing brainwashing all day. Hal and her were on either end of the couch facing them, naked themselves. All but modest polite Lily. Someone must have called a family cum-off, because they’d all three started masturbating. The sight of her daughter with her legs spread and her pussy spread open was mesmerizing to Mrs M.

A noise from the second floor woke her out of her brown study. Her first thought was Hal was stirring, but when the light came up on the landing she could see 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 her back, now she was losing her baby 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 crumbling and yellow as an old scrap of 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 position to get a better look at the stairs.

Gwineth was costumed like a girl heading back to stripper college. She came slinking down in a tight white school-uniform blouse, buttons all but popping from the pressure of her breasts, and a pleated mini-tartan that teased an inch or two of pale thigh over her dark, ribbon-gathered stockings. A short rep tie nestled in her open cleavage. She hovered her clunky black patent-leather platforms in the air over every step, as if it was the shoe’s decision when 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-cut panties. Every time a foot landed her pushed-up tits shook and the blouse crimped and puckered over the big 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 short length of chain clipped on. The collar said “WHORE” on it spelled out in rhinestones. Well that’s new, Mrs. M thought; then immediately gave herself a hard pinch on the thigh as a reminder her daughter’s choices were her own, and not to fuss. The strap at the end of the leash Gwin carried lightly, with complete unconcern, in her open mouth. Only the chain itself, swaying fitfully beside her jaw, seemed to have any awareness of its being there.

Mrs M noticed that Lily had a certain look in her eye. She glanced down and with a mild rush of embarrassment saw she’d started touching herself. Not with any intention behind it; basically she was  just stroking her pubic hair; but still. “Oh dear, where are my manners,” she said. It came out less contrite than she wanted, more flirtatious. “Getting to be quite the habit with me lately.”

“Can’t say as I blame you much, Mrs M,” Lily said, nodding towards Gwin, “slutbait like this running around the house.”

Her daughter was halted just outside the living-room threshold, eyes vacant, swaying slightly in her high shoes as if dangling 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 snatched it away from her crotch under an ass cheek as a hedge against further 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. “You know she didn’t like me when we first met? Kinda mean about it, tell you the truth.” 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 peevish and weepy and not putting forth her best effort. Mrs M said one filthy thing after another to her, anything that came to mind, trying to rev her up, encourage her. All the while revving her own self up. But she was laser focused on the idea she needed to see her daughter cum before it could happen for her.

“Now she’s your personal whore, isn’t she Miss Lily,” Mrs M said with a throb of pride. In her day a girl could never have got away with wearing a collar like that.

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. Before she knew it her hand had peeked back out and drifted back between her legs, and she sighed and let it. Who else would there be to keep her company? Languishing on the couch in the grey chill she played somberly with herself and watched the girls bond, jealous of the kiss, jealous of the dream orgasm she and Gwin had never got to share.

A heavy thud from upstairs interrupted them. Mrs M shook her head and pushed herself into more of a seated posture. Lily glanced briefly upwards and then turned her eyes out the window. She looked like someone reading the clouds for signs; her gaze was sharp and inscrutable. She turned and caught Mrs M staring and winked at her. “Little ways off yet,” she said, smiling placidly. She kissed Gwinnie on the forehead and looped the end of the leash a turn or two about the girl’s wrist. “Whyn’t you go have one last 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 squirmed until she fit. 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, let her know how much you’re gonna 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 eyes moistened in turn. “Miss you more, sweetie,” she whimpered. It felt like such a long while since her little girl had done that. When she kissed Gwin back it lingered between them, and the kiss only broke when Mrs M remembered they were still in it; and just 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 there was nothing she could find to say; nothing that meant anything. She begged internally for just a few more minutes. Despairing of her goodbye she reached for another kiss, and another, and their tongues touched and a spark jumped between them, and then the only thing Mrs M could think about was never wanting it to end.

A commotion on the landing gave her a start, but Gwinnie caught her face in her hands to make sure her mind didn’t wander, and the kissing turned deeper and more insistent. Somehow Gwin’s thigh found itself trapped between Mommy’s legs. A rush of cold air came in from the front and Mrs M got goosebumps, and two more big thuds sounded on the stairs, followed by a man’s voice swearing under its breath. Hal’s. He’s lugging the damn bags all by himself, she thought. Of course without a word to anyone. Better be wearing his back brace at least.

Gwinnie’s weight, slight as it was, kept pushing Mrs M deeper into the couch. Whenever she moved the leash chafed over her mother’s collarbone. Mrs M’s leg rose of its own accord till it was draped almost over Gwin’s ass, and she realized she was just inches away from grinding her naked pussy into her daughter’s pelvis. She wondered if Hal or anyone was paying attention. She wondered how long it was before someone came and pulled them apart.

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

“Cuddling!” she bleated. The question disjoined her, like an unanswerable riddle. What was she up to? What were any of them up to? The pain under Mrs M’s heart expanded, her pulse went fluttery and her breath came short. Gwinnie trailed her tongue up Mommy’s jaw and breathed I know what you want hotly into Mommy’s ear and raked it with her teeth. Mrs M wondered if she was having another dream. She looked plaintively up into the camera. “I’m cuddling goodbye 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 slutbait was getting her. “It’s nice when mommies and daughters cuddle, isn’t it?”

She always understands, Mrs M reminded herself. Relief brought tears to her eyes. “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. Her face was twitching, and she seemed barely holding herself together. Lily awwwed and adjusted her frame and reached down into it to brush a tear off her host’s cheek, and that was all it needed. At the touch Mrs M’s eyes closed and she let go. She felt the waterworks release and whatever it was, whatever bad feeling she’d been holding onto, sobbed itself tragically, beatifically out of her.

“Shoulda had you in mascara for this,” Lily said. “Still. Prime content.”

After a time the front door banged shut again, and Mrs M came back to herself. She felt wrung out with the intensity of her and Gwinnie’s goodbye. Her daughter was reclining against her kissing her neck, flicking a lazy thumbnail back and forth over her nipple. Miss Lily picked up the strap end of the leash off Mrs M's thigh. “Alright sluts, time to go.” She swatted it across Gwin’s ass cheek. “Give Mommy her going-away present.”

Gwinnie yelped and glared up 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 the movements on her thigh, her daughter pushing her panties aside and pushing into herself, the little scoots she made finding her fingers a good angle. When they got where they were going she cooed and grinned at Mrs M wickedly. She fucked her hand, a few slow strokes, deep and easy, just to show off what a wet, ready whore she was. Maybe a few more than necessary. She watched her mother watch her. 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 lips.

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

She came to with a confused sense of having just kissed Gwinnie goodbye. Some fragment pulled up from a dream she’d lost hold of. That’s how it came to her they were gone. She’d missed her chance.

Hal wandered into 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 it seemed like. When he noticed her he stopped short, 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 to the kitchen.

Gray morning. Snow in the forecast. It was hard to tell what time it was. Shoulda told him coffee, she thought, but felt too lethargic 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 fucking snow. She wanted her dream back. She wanted Gwin, wanted the kiss she’d been cheated of. Look what I get instead, she thought bitterly. She turned her eyes away to the window and lost herself in the whiteout. There was no consolation there. She brought her thigh up onto the couch and began stroking up and down inside it, listlessly, in a small luxury of abandonment. She stared into nothing and tried to imagine the touch someone else’s, someone she could want. A sexy girl’s maybe. Some sexy blooming big-titty young girl eager to climb on top of her and ravish her pussy and teach her to behave.

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

She shrugged, and stroked up nearer her crotch. 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. Her and her dream girl were getting nowhere. You gotta go or I do for this to work, she thought at Hal. If only there was an atom of her other than her hand right now that had the power to move.

Dissatisfied with the weather talk, 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 it’s, uh, whaddaya call a ‘live’ stream? Maybe? All this terminology.” He shook his head and made a few cautious, frowning taps, and his face cleared. “There ya go!” Another minute of intent staring and then he was pointing the phone tv-wards, ceremonially aloft: when he mashed the button a jangled image popped into one corner of the screen, stuttering paralytically, but before she could say anything cutting it unfroze on its own, and they had video.

“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 sex doll, rode alone in the back seat of a limo, the sky behind her winter-slate. She wore nothing but a thick black WHORE 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 shin, and the whore propped her foot up on the seat next to her to open her pussy another degree. The hand came back into frame with a thing of lube, and squirted it messily over the girl’s hand and the dildo and all around her swollen, fire-red labia.

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