“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. The house was chilly and quiet. In the dull surrounding 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 so 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 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. There was no urgency in the thought.

Gwin’s friend propped herself against the arm of the big club chair and turned on the reading lamp beside it. She smiled. “It’s comfortable going nude in your own home, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Mrs M said earnestly. She was glad the girl understood. She smiled back. “I’m much more comfortable here in the nude. 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. More mature than her, more intellectual type. In the lamplight her dull, frazzled hair cast a red-blonde nimbus that whelmed her face into shadow. She looked like a woman out of myth, like an oracle, looming and obscure.

Mrs M heard movement at the top of the stairs. Up on the landing the light flicked on. Her first thought was that Hal’d woken up, but instead it was Gwinnie. Early for her. Today was the day she was going back though, her and her school friend, they had an early ride. Snow in the forecast. So soon, and their break was already over, and their ride almost here. And what had they done with the time? Aint that life, her mom used to say, long to look forward, short to pass. Mrs M felt a sharp pang of loss.

To look at Gwineth’s costume as she came downstairs you’d think she was on her way back to stripper college. She wore a pleated micro-tartan that left a generous gap of flesh over the little pink bows topping her dark thigh-highs. She took the stairs provocatively slow, one foot in front of the other, slinking down on clunky black patent-leather platforms, one hand just skimming the rail. The other kept her skirt lifted in front, so you could see the bright red of her panties. A thin white 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. She wore a dog collar around her neck with a short chain leash on it, and she held the leather flap at the end of the leash casually between her teeth.

Gwin kept the same gait and the same expression as she turned into the front room, as if in her mind she was still descending the risers. 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 sexy today, Gwinnie,” Mrs M said. What a suckup you sound like, she said to herself. Her daughter didn’t even notice. As soon as her friend spoke you could see Gwin orient on her, like she was finding her by radar. But she held her place till the girl told her “Come.” And then she flowed back into motion, not much differently but wholly differently: a lewd, slouching roll, hips forward, a parody of a seducer’s walk, choreographed to some burlesque tune only she could hear. It wasn’t parody though. Gwineth was just that desperate to please.

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 liked to call her Mrs M, and in turn she’d taken to calling her Miss Lily. Just a harmless flirty little thing they had with one another. And the name suited Lily, who was such a polite, proper girl. Classy. Gwineth could really learn a thing or two from a girl like that.

Miss Lily glanced over at her. “Did I tell you she didn’t like me when we met? Not a bit.” 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 smooshed in together in it, Gwineth naked in Lily’s lap. Hal and her, both naked themselves, at opposite ends of the couch. The dream felt as if she’d had it ages ago, though they’d only just met Miss Lily. There was a lull in the conversation, and someone piped up and said let’s play the masturbation game. Lily being the only one clothed they made her be judge. Hal, he was so pathetic, lost right away. Mrs M was focused on trying to get Gwinnie to cum. Kept up this cheesy filthy patter the whole time, like, oh yeah grind your pussy in her lap you little slut, you want her to fuck that hole so bad sort of thing, and the only problem was it was working too well: watching how her daughter got off on it brought Mrs M every bit as close.

She didn’t remember how the contest ended. Anyway, she was glad she’d opened up about it to Lily, it really eased her mind about some things. And sure in a sense it was a sex dream, but wasn’t it really about her and Gwinnie’s whole relationship? now Gwinnie was off in college, and her own woman? And Miss Lily was in the dream, that was no accident: as soon as they'd met Mrs M had just known somehow that she'd be the one to help her and her daughter reconnect.

Languishing in the morning chill, waiting dully to be left alone again, Mrs M felt a tug of nostalgia for the dream orgasm she'd never had.

Lily unclipped the leash from Gwineth’s collar and let it fall to the chair. 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, made for 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 were still touching. 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, and then all she cared about was not having to stop.

There was some sort of commotion above on the landing. Gwinnie shifted a bit, rotating herself forward, and her leg ended caught between her mother’s thighs. Mrs M caressed the soft bulge of flesh over the lip of Gwin’s stockings with her fingertips. The kissing turned heavy and insistent. Gwin’s tongue thrust over and over into her mouth, and Mrs M’s head was swimming so, she couldn’t do anything to refuse it.

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 the 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 was standing just a few feet away, filming them with her phone. A hard pinch on her nipple made Mrs M mewl.

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

“Cuddling,” Mrs M blurted. She felt disjointed. She felt like she’d been caught doing something. Gwinnie set to work torturing her mother’s ear with her tongue. A wild spasm of confusion passed over her, and Mrs M wondered if she was dreaming again. “We’re cuddling,” she said to the phone, pleadingly.

Miss Lily lowered the screen a little and winked at her. “Isn’t it 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. “Hey slut,” Miss Lily said, swatting Gwin’s ass cheek. “We gotta 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 shoved her panties aside. “Wait a second,” Lily said, shifting herself and changing the angle of her phone.

Mrs M could feel it on her thigh, Gwinnie pushing her fingers into herself, squirming her hips to receive them;— Gwinnie bit her lip and sighed and fixed her mother with a wicked, teasing smile. She watched Mrs M watch her fuck her hand, just a few strokes, just to show how wet and ready she was. Gwinnie cooed 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 around 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 came from while the world went dark with her daughter’s musk.

Hal came into the living room wearing one of his ridiculous chef’s aprons and carrying a tv tray. She’d come to, kind of, to him out there clattering around in the kitchen. A while now. Seeing her on the couch he paused, hugging the tray to his chest. “Oh hey!” he said, “you’re up.” He set the tray down at the other end of the couch 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 she 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 behind the tv tray. He flipped on the set, looking for the weather channel. “Hope they stay ahead of the snow.”

She didn’t want to hear about the snow. Besides her pussy needed attention. She wondered if it was worthwhile to try masturbating. She stroked along her thigh with one hand, looking away, hoping to imagine it into someone else’s touch. A sexy girl’s maybe. A sexy young girl who wanted to climb on top of her and ravish her.

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. This 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.

Unsatisfied with the weather channel, Hal picked up the remote. “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 of this yet.” He made a few cautious, frowning taps, then his face cleared. “There ya go!” Another minute and 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.” Hal reached behind him and undid the bottom strings of his apron. “Kinda content, I mean. Pay good money too, I bet. But you know what Lily says? She says anytime she sends us anything to watch like this, 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 were a gothed-out sex doll, was riding alone in the back seat of a limo, the sky behind her winter-slate. All she wore was a thick 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 by the millimeter, moaning at every thrust, her big pierced tits heaving. She looked lost. There was nothing in her face but discomfort and compulsion. A female hand reached out from behind the camera and tapped her on the knee, and the brunette propped up a heel on the seat next to her to expose herself more. The hand came back into frame with a thing of lube, and squirted it all around the girl’s swollen, cherry-red pussy lips.

“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 he hadn’t called a cum-off, she thought, because no way she was going to last. “Real nice girl.”