Chapter 12
Joan's hand shook so badly she could hardly fit the key to the lock, something she wanted to do very quietly. This evening had been nearly five weeks arriving, five terrible weeks involved with policemen, a few reporters and a school board that finally granted her request for a transfer to an elementary school across town. Five weeks during which she had appeared at the Juvenile Court a dozen times, trying to convince the skeptical authorities that Bonnie Price, homeless orphan and frightened colored girl, could and would be adequately taken care of by her fifth-grade teacher and her sweet mother. Now she managed the lock and turned with a conspiratorial smile to Bonnie. Bonnie giggled.
Inside the hall of the new and larger apartment, Joan held a shushing finger to her lips, nodding to the rear bedrooms, where from the middle one of three came the clack-swish of Martha's hand loom. Joan pointed and Bonnie put down her zipper bag containing a few new clothes. She smelled slightly of a lion's den, but above the odor of Juvenile, she was clean and bright. A month of few privileges had allowed her hair to kink again, and she had fattened some. Still shaking, Joan led the tip-toe way to the weaving room, Bonnie, a warm, eager heat at her back.
Martha sat at the loom, but there was a difference. Her hair normally coiled and tucked, hung weightily down her back. In place of her usual housedress, she wore a Hong Kong silk robe, collarless and easily sashed at the waist. Her big tits rolled and shook, unfettered in the soft material as her hands worked the shuttle and bobbin of the loom. Evidently her eye caught their presence in the doorway; she left her work and turned, the strong white tapers of her bare legs breaking through the front of the robe.
She squealed and Bonnie squealed and they came together in a furious, gleeful embrace. The way her mother kissed Bonnie full on the mouth gave Joan an additional fit of quivering. Then the three of them were together, hugging, laughing and half crying.
"Oh, Bonnie, baby! It's so nice to have you-here with us!" Martha cried. "When Joan called and said they'd said yes- "Those dumb bums sure took a lot of convincing!" Bonnie exclaimed. "They been talking to me for a week! Hey, you sure are pretty, that way!"
"She has to come in every Friday so they can talk to her," Joan said. "Like today-everything nice happens on Friday!"
"Everything nice," Martha murmured and turned.
Joan followed her mother's gaze and a huge, wanting sickness flooded her as she surveyed the spinning wheel, positioned before the old rocker. At the moment it was a sterile bit of antiquity; the sewing table was to one side and Joan could almost X-ray its walnut sides with her feverish eyes. Her inner thighs began to sweat and moisture gathered between the cheeks of her ass as they led Bonnie to her freshly furnished room.
After one, encompassing look, Bonnie laughed, then gasped and threw herself on the bed, face down, crying with all of her might. Joan smiled at her mother, then moved to comfort Bonnie. She lay at her side, raised to one elbow, her other hand petting the stiff wool, patting and smoothing the small square back, then moving down with a slow slipping motion that seemed impossible to resist. When her palm came to the twin rise of Bonnie's bottom, the fingers moved, feeling the firm cheeks and the deep tight crevice between them. Joan's blood pounded and her belly rolled with exciting tensions; she massaged the little bottom and after a few seconds, Bonnie's sobs faded to soft murmurs. Unable to control herself, Joan let her fingers gather the soft wool skirt until the black of Bonnie's back thighs junctured with the fully rounded contour of her ass. Under her hand, the heat of Bonnie's flesh was like sun-baked velvet, and Joan molded the shapes, letting her own excitement climb with each new feel. Finally, she wanted the small dark moons naked and she sought the elastic waistband of Bonnie's panties. When Bonnie humped her bottom up so the nylon could be rolled down, Joan groaned with happiness and peeled the scanty garment down and down.
"Oh, Mama!" she breathed, glancing at Martha who stood, eyes hot and wide, her mouth slightly agape with fascination. "Isn't she-beautiful?"
"Put your f-finger into her," Martha husked. "I-I want to see! Oh Joanie, we are going to be so very very happy!"
That Bonnie heard was instantly obvious; her slim legs moved apart and her bottom began to move up and down with subtle invitation. Joan put her hand back to the small tight ass and let her fingers curl down between the cheeks, feeling of the snug heat, the soft rubbery flesh at the bottom of the valley, then the pucker of Bonnie's anus and below. Her fingertip found the sinewy fork of Bonnie's cunt, then pushed past and in; the soft wet tissues moved and opened and with a cry of promised ecstasy, Joan closed over the trembling body and plunged her fingers into the receptive cunt. Her own gaped and oozed as she began to massage in and out of the black delicacy she had worked so hard to possess. Bonnie turned and half climbed into her embrace, and while Martha watched, Joan loved the little body and sucked ecstasy from the fiery work of her adept fingers. Panting, eyes half closed with total absorption for what she did, Joan looked at her mother. Martha had shed her robe She stood in an obscene arch, her hairy crotch pushed out so her cunt lay open and pulsing, her hands working furiously at her huge tits. With a cry of climbing lust, Joan caught Bonnie between her legs, now bare of her wrinkled skirt and fucked her nyloned pussy to the thin hard hip of the writhing girl. Her fingers seemed inspired, she sent them deep, wriggling, plunging and stretching the vital in-shape, and through the fury, Bonnie whimpered and thrashed.
Abruptly then, Joan let go of Bonnie and fell back on the bed, laughing softly. "Gee whiz! I almost went out of my silly mind!" she gasped. "It seemed like I'd been waiting forever-and had to do it all at once!"
"It was beautiful, dear," Martha said. "I can hardly wait to see how my lovely spinning wheel makes her happy!"
"Spinning wheel?" Bonnie queried.
Martha bent and kissed the flat little black belly. "Yes, dear. You'll just love it, I know you will!"
For a while then thev teased themselves, getting Bonnie settled in her room, talking and laughing about the future without a word for the past, and having dinner. They sat with eyes sparkling, as if each understood the inner passions of the others but chose to suspend action to enhance its later fury. When dinner was over and the dishes done, Bonnie was the one to trigger their beginning.
"I smell like jail," she said, turning her head to sniff at her shoulder.
"It's kind of an exciting smell, dear," Martha observed. "But if you want a bath now, it will-be just fine, won't it, Joan?"
"Oh, yes, yes!" Joan agreed and they all laughed at her eagerness. Then they all sobered, stricken by deep inner desires and again it was Bonnie who broke the mood.
"Well, let's get the little old show on the road, huh?"
Bonnie chose the tub because for thirty days in Juvenile, she had been forced to shower with a dozen other girls. While Joan regulated the water, Martha found a big fluffy towel and some lavender soap. Then Bonnie stripped and the intimate impact of the moment hit them all. "Oh my God," Joan husked and began to wriggle out of her clothes.
Martha had only to remove her robe again. The three of them stood, devouring each other with wild eyes; the toilet bowl, the washbasin and the gush of water in the tub lent an aura of illicit delight to the sensual adventure.
Martha sank to the fluffy bathmat, her flesh lying heavily as she stretched out, spreading her legs and drawing up her knees. One arm raised, fingers beckoning. Her half-closed eyes looked straight up and her broadly open crotch began a slow rolling undulation, splaying her plump nates one way and then the other so the fringe of hair in the tight crevice moved like a live feather. Joan felt her own belly roll, but before she could sink down to kiss her mother's neatly huge cunt, Bonnie had turned and dropped to her hands and knees. Her round wool cap went down and Martha's knees jerked as the thick seeking lips went full into the valley of her sex. Bonnie's fingers moved to open the plump lips even farther and her head burrowed, turning from side to side so her tongue could explore each fold and secret crease in the quaking pussy. Joan's head whirled with rising excitement as she watched the slim black body working between the soft white legs; her eyes burned hotly at the sharp bend of Bonnie's ass, with its shallowed divide and the coal black pucker riding just above the tight, hairless cunt. As Bonnie began slow hard fucking hunches, Joan thought she knew exactly what the moment needed. Hurriedly, she ran to her mother's bedroom and from the sewing table drawer, took her long rubber -police club. Shivering and tensing, Joan stood above and behind Bonnie, her lips wetting the round black form, her mind whirling with exquisite obscenities. Then she went to her knees between Bonnie's separated calves, and a strange, exciting feeling gripped her. She pressed her thighs together and thrust the plaited handle of the club into the firm vee formed by her vagina mouth and the juncture of her thighs. The long black cylinder thrust out and slightly up, exactly like a man's prick.
It was the first time she had ever assumed such a position, and the outthrust dildo completed the illusion that she was man-like. She put her hands to Bonnie's hips, moving closer, trembling with the certainty that she felt exactly as Sam had felt, coming hard in for rape as he had done that long distant afternoon at Bonnie's house. The rubber prick looked very large compared to the small black ass; the brutality of its length and girth sent fresh tremors of excitement through Joan's taut body. Then she slid a hand down and firmed the handle in its nest, and with a moan of joy, Joan sent the black rubber club into Bonnie's cunt, in and in and up, until her swiftly writhing body would take no more. Holding the club, Joan began to fuck the squirming ass, and her in and out strokes moved the plaited handle in the gash of her own quim, setting her clitoris up in blood-gorged straining.
The three of them then were a mass of intensely lewd flesh, Martha fluttering her bulbous forms from head to ass, meeting Bonnie's mouth and tongue and wincing under the pinch of the frenzied black fingers, with Joan trying to plunge the huge dildo ever in and in, her own cunt feeling both club and lips. Then Bonnie squealed wetly into Martha and her little pussy clamped hard on the dildo, causing the hunch of Joan's hips to slide forward, rasping the handle shape through her cunt lips until her hairy pubic mound was hard to Bonnie's ass. As she fell forward over Bonnie's back, the feeling of being man was doubled, and Joan did movements with her hips that hurt her vagina into monstrous orgasm. She felt Bonnie collapse under her and then the three were one, panting, squirming and murmuring tender words as the cum fires spread and melted their flesh together.
"Wow!" Bonnie finally grunted. "That has to be the mostest!"
Martha laughed. "Oh yes, but oh no! You'll see!"
Joan sat up, dazed by abandonment, shocked by her own intensity and throbbing with remaining want. She reached over and turned off the bathwater, and for a minute or two, the only sound was the gurgle of the overflow, like a weird symphony to their endless passions.
Presently they bathed Bonnie and did some lovely things together, but weariness came to them all before they managed to get back to the weaving room.
Martha awakened suddenly, fully, and there was fear. She seemed terribly afraid but she could not remember the dream. Her breath was short and fast, the blood drummed in her ears like the beat of a tom-tom. She lay very still, letting the fear fade while she regained her breath and a steady pulse. When she was all right, she began to think.
To think properly, she turned over in bed, her eyes going to the long rectangle of bright moonlight that seemed to be a pedestal upon which sat her spinning wheel and the old rocker. Sight of it gave her courage to say to herself what she had not dared to think before.
It had been a lovely evening, with a dozen new excitements and illicit thrills. Her mind tumbled and caressed the memory of lean black flesh, squirming and straining and enmeshing itself with equally eager white forms, of lips and obscene delights involving fingers and the very adequate rubber dildo. A lovely evening, with horrible overtones.
Martha knew beyond a doubt that her daughter was a Lesbian.
If she herself had entered into the orgy of perverted extremes, it had been in the spirit of adventure and excitement. Not so with Joan. From the moment she had entered the door with Bonnie, Joan had been gripped by nearly a fanatical fever; at times she had been almost incoherent with frenzy for Bonnie's willing body. She had pummeled it and penetrated it, sucked it and kissed it and after each exhausting episode, lay panting while she built new plans for a next assault. About Bonnie, Martha did not know. She was a strange, primitive girl, showing childish glee at sensation and sometimes savage fury at satisfaction.
Eventually, they had left her out, and Martha felt a twinge of loneliness now. She looked lovingly at the spinning wheel. The loneliness had begun the day-a Friday-she had been found out by Joan. Up to then, her private content with her own sexual gymnastics had been magnificent. Her life had been complete; spinning, weaving, the Ladies Auxiliary, Joan, the comfort of their little apartment, and when she felt the need, the pistoning dildo.
She suddenly felt the need.
Martha slipped out of bed, her nakedness quivering in the cooler air. For a moment, she stood feeling of herself, moving her hands as she remembered Frank had done. He had loved her big tits-and she loved them now, lifting and solidifying them as her tensions mounted. Her hips swayed. They had always played a little before making love. She played now, feeling of her ample buttocks, sliding her fingers to secret delights, tickling and teasing her vagina, surprising her flesh with small pinches and pats. He had been a little clumsy at first, but she had taught him what was exciting and what was merely nice. She pursed her lips, remembering the first time she had taken his penis in her mouth. She had sucked it too long and he had apologized for having huge orgasm in her mouth and she had loved him so much he had fucked her almost without regaining his breath.
Now she moved to the sewing table and reached past the rubber club to the wrapped shapes. She fitted the spindle to the dildo, trembling at the feel of the monstrous shaft. She fastened the assembled unit to the treadle, then she knelt, the moonlight showing her every detail of the knobbed device. Her fingers petted the tape rolls, her lips kissed the blunt tip. Her eyes half closed and her mind began the sweet imagining. Her skin flamed and her cunt started the delicious inside milking. Martha climbed up into the rocker, surprised at how heavy she seemed to be. But then she was not young, and it had been a very strenuous evening. And there had been the bad dream which she couldn't remember.
Shaking strongly, Martha slid forward in the rocking chair, her hand going to the big cock, pulling the spinning wheel closer. She moved her right leg a little more than the left so the moonlight turned her cunt to gleaming rolls of dark flesh and cast sparkling highlights in the thick hair of her crotch. Frank would love her if he could see-he'd be sixty-five had he lived, and Martha had no doubt that they would be as happy together as they had ever been.
Her toe touched the treadle and the prick slipped in, forcing her to gasp with familiar delight. She pushed her ass a bit farther to the spinning wheel, then with all her being wrapped around the coursing shaft, she began to fuck it and pet it and turn it into reality. And presently, it became very real, sweetly soothing as it was also fiercely exciting. She knew each moment, each building goodness, and when orgasm seemed imminent, she slowed the wheel, suspending herself in exquisite balance, waiting for the approaching edge to recede before working the treadle vigorously. She did this several times until the blossoming cum could not be denied. Gasping,' moaning, she prepared for it.
"Oh, Frank, Frank, I'm so s-sorry I failed with Joan! Forgive me, Frank! Forgive me and fuck me, fuck me, fuck me! Aiegh-ha, yes!"
Writhing and mewling, Martha felt the furious thudding, the screaming clutches, and when it was so good she could no longer stand it, she relaxed slowly, letting her foot slow and stop on the treadle. The night settled around her, and she was happy in its darkness.
Finally, Joan admitted that the chill of her mother's skin was the cold of death, so she slouched down and cried. Bonnie removed the dildo from the listless vagina and put it in a drawer, then she sank down beside her white lover and they cried together.