“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. She might have slept there, it was hard to remember. 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 your hospitality.”

She knew this girl. Gwineth’s friend from school. The tall girl. “That’s very polite 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 was startlingly pale. I should have put something on, she told herself. She wasn’t chilly though, and the thought had no urgency to it.

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. “It always feels freer going nude in your own home, doesn’t it?”

“That’s very true,” Mrs M said eagerly. She was relieved the girl understood so well. She smiled back and uncrossed her ankles. “I’m just more comfortable being nude when I’m at home. It relaxes me so.”

The girl slung her backpack off her shoulder and onto the chair seat. She was a gangly plain shapeless girl with no fashion sense, but a good friend for Gwin to have made nonetheless. A role model. More mature than her, 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: the girl looming under the lamp like some figure out of myth, a harbinger, a fate.

A sound of movement at the top of the stairs broke her reverie. Her first thought was that Hal was up, but when the light came on on the landing she saw it was Gwineth. Early for her. But today was the day, Mrs M realized dismally: they were going back. Had to get out ahead of the snow.

Where did it go? They’d only just got there, now Gwinnie was leaving again. It didn’t seem fair. Aint that life, her mother used to say, long to look forward, short to pass. Mrs M felt a sharp pang of loss.

Gwineth descended in a costume Mrs M thought more appropriate maybe for stripper college, but then times had changed, girls dressed all kinds of provocative anymore. She wore a pleated micro-tartan that left a generous gap of flesh over the little pink bows topping her dark thigh-highs. She slunk her way down on heavy black patent-leather platforms, teasing every step in the air as if to feel the weight before she let it fall. One hand barely skimmed the rail beside her, with the other she kept her skirt lifted in front, so the bright red of her panties showed. A thin white school-uniform blouse, only just closed beneath her full breasts, rode and shifted over the new piercings on her nipples. Her expression under a dark cloud of mascara and drawn-out eyeliner was sulky and vacant. The dog collar around her neck had a short chain leash attached to it, and she carried the leather strap at the end between her teeth so casually she might not have known it was there.

Gwin maintained her gait and her expression as she turned into the front room, as if in her mind the staircase hadn’t ended. She paused at the threshold, eyes on nothing, swaying a little in the high shoes like she was dangling from an invisible string. “Look what a sexy daughter you have, Mrs M,” her friend said.

“You look suuuper hot today, Gwinnie,” Mrs M said. Great, suck up to her, she loves that, she scolded herself. Her daughter didn’t take notice. As soon as her friend spoke you could see Gwin’s whole presence orient on her, like she was finding her not by sight but via some internal radar. But she held her place until the girl said “Come.” At the word she flowed: one instant still the next all movement, lewd, slouchy, pussy forward, a parody of a streetwalker’s vamp, choreographed to some burlesque number only Gwinnie could hear. It wasn’t parody though. She was just a girl who needed to be used, and needed it known.

The taller girl stretched her hand out, low, palm up, and Gwin bent down over it and opened her mouth to drop the leash. She rose slow, her hips still squirming, and looked her friend in the face for the first time. She licked her lips. “Hi Lily,” she whispered. Her mouth trembled, and her voice was ragged with surrender.

Liliane. That was her name. Liliane who called her Mrs M, and she called her Miss Lily. A harmless little flirty thing they did with one another. Besides the name suited her, such a polite, proper girl as she was. Classy. Wouldn’t hurt Gwinnie a bit to pick some of that up.

Miss Lily glanced over at her. “Did I tell you she didn’t like me when we met?” She had a pleasant, mischievous grin on her face. “She was actually kind of mean to me. Briefly. Now look at ya,” she said softly. She gave the back of her leash hand to Gwin to nuzzle and rub her cheek against.

Mrs M remembered a dream. Evening, the lamp on over the club chair like it was now, the girls piled in together in it, Gwineth naked in Lily’s lap. Hal and her, both naked themselves, sitting on opposite ends of the couch. The dream felt old, less a dream than a kind of virtual, unlived past. There was a lull in the conversation, and someone piped up and said time for a family cum-off. Lily didn’t mind; they let her be judge. Hal, so pathetic, he lost right away. Mrs M focused on trying to get Gwinnie to cum. Kept up this cheesy filthy patter the whole time, whatever came to mind, oh yeah grind your pussy in her lap you little slut, god you need to come for her so bad sort of thing, and the only problem was it was working too well: when Gwin started repeating back to her, not even knowing what she was saying, it brought Mrs M pretty close to the edge herself.

She couldn’t remember how the contest ended. Lily told her that wasn’t the point, said in fact she shouldn’t think of it as a sex dream at all. The things they taught you in college! She was glad she’d been able to open up to her about it though. According to psychology apparently, the dream was all about her and Gwinnie’s relationship, and how sad Mrs M was to be losing her, and that was certainly all true: the sex part was a metaphor. And Lily was there, being a judge, because obviously they both loved her and trusted her so much, and wanted her help reconnecting. And when you heard Lily explain it, really it made a lot of sense.

Languishing in the morning chill, waiting dully to be abandoned again, Mrs M felt a tug of nostalgia for the dream orgasm she and Gwin never got to share.

Lily unclipped the leash from Gwineth’s collar and let it fall onto the seat. She gazed down at the girl, stroking little circles on her forehead with her fingertips. “There’s a few minutes still,” she said after a moment, in a gentle tone. She gestured towards the sofa with her head. “Whyn’t you go cuddle with Mommy.”

Gwineth, pouty still, slunk towards the narrow space between Mrs M and the couch end and curled herself up there. She sighed dramatically. She slung a stockinged leg across Mommy’s lap and burrowed her face against Mommy’s shoulder. “She’s a little sad to be leaving,” Lily explained. Mrs M put her cheek to the top of Gwin’s head and inhaled the warm scent of her hair. “Tell Mommy how much you’re going to miss her, doll.”

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 felt her own eyes moisten. “Miss you more, sweetie,” she whimpered, and kissed her back. This kiss was more lingering, and they broke it only a little, just to where their noses and foreheads still touched. Mrs M closed her eyes, she felt herself breathing with Gwineth’s breath and she tried to think of all the things she wanted to say to her, any of the things; and as she despaired of her goodbye they kissed again, and then again, deeper, and then all she cared about was them never having to stop.

There was some sudden commotion above on the landing. Gwinnie startled, and Mrs M grabbed her face with her hands to bring their mouths back together. The girl shifted in her seat, ending up with her leg trapped between Mommy’s thighs. The kissing turned deep and insistent. Mrs M clawed at the soft bulge of flesh over the top of her daughter’s stockings while she fondled Gwin’s outstretched tongue between her lips like it was a little cock. Some small incoherent part of Mrs M felt awkward about what they were doing; pushing it aside made the goodbye just that much hotter.

The front door opened, and a breath of cold outside air drifted past. Mrs M, Gwinnie’s weight pressing her into the couch, felt perilously close to a moment where she’d find herself humping her daughter’s leg. She heard a couple heavy thuds on the stairs, and a soft male voice swearing, and realized it was Hal lugging the girls’ bags down. Of course without a word to say to them. She hoped he was wearing his back brace at least.

The door shut again just as Gwin’s hand found her mother’s breast. Mrs M opened her eyes and looked around. Liliane stood just a few feet away from them, taking video with her phone. A hard pinch on her nipple made Mrs M whine and whip her head around.

Miss Lily grinned and winked at her. “Whatcha doin there Mrs M?” she asked.

“Cuddling,” Mrs M bleated. The question disjointed her. She felt like she’d been caught out in something, though she couldn’t think what. Gwinnie set to work torturing her mother’s ear with her hot tongue. A spasm of confusion passed over her, and Mrs M wondered if she was dreaming again. “We’re cuddling,” she said into the phone, pleadingly.

Miss Lily lowered the screen a little and winked at her. “It’s nice when mommies cuddle with their daughters,” she said, nodding.

Mrs M picked up the nod. “It’s so very nice when mommies cuddle with their daughters,” she agreed. Her voice was trembling, and she felt near tears.

“Most natural thing in the world,” Lily said soothingly. She crossed to the couch and climbed up onto it on her knees next to Mrs M, filming now from over her head.

“It’s the most natural thing in the world,” Mrs M sniffled. She looked fragile. Lily awwwed down at her and brushed a tear from her cheek, and that was all it took for the older woman to lose what was left of her composure and start crying for real.

Lily shook her head. “Shoulda had you in mascara for this,” she mused to her screen. “Still. Good content.”

The front door opened again, and as quickly closed. Gwinnie bit her mother’s ear lobe and gave her nipple a twist and Mrs M made a sound between a gasp and a hiccup. “Okay slut,” Miss Lily said, swatting Gwin’s ass cheek. “Time to go. Give Mommy her goodbye present.”

Gwineth glared up at Liliane from under her brows, a fierce but somehow empty look, while she snuck a hand up beneath her skirt and moved her panties aside. “Wait a second,” Lily told her, shifting herself and changing the angle of the phone.

Mrs M could feel it on her thigh when Gwinnie begin pushing her fingers into herself, squirming her hips to receive them; she bit her lip and cooed when they got where she wanted and fixed her mother with a wicked, teasing smile. She watched Mrs M watch her fuck her hand, a few deep slow strokes, just to demonstrate how wet and ready she was. Gwinnie squeaked when she drew the fingers out again. In a little girl’s voice she said “Open wide, Mommy,” and there was nothing in Mrs M that could keep her from doing as she was told.

Her lips closed over her present, and she sucked. She heard a woman groan, a sound from deep in the body,— a soul groan. Mrs M wondered who it was coming from as the world went dark around her daughter’s musk.

Hal came into the living room wearing one of his dumb chef’s 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. Also her pussy needed attention,— had been needing. She wondered if it was worthwhile to try to masturbate. She stroked along her thigh with one hand, looking away towards the blank window, hoping she could imagine it someone else’s touch, a sexy girl’s maybe. The touch of a sexy young girl who was ready to climb on top of her and ravish her pussy.

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 it was a garment. “Toasty,” he said confidently.

Listlessly she teased 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 she wasn’t so inert right now.

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 a pink ribbon 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,” said Mrs M. She was drenched. She slid a couple fingers inside, deep and easy, fucking herself to the ebb and flow of the limo slut’s agonized moans. Good thing Hal hadn’t called a cum-off, she thought, because no way she’d have outlasted him. “Real nice girl.”