Using Ursula
by Pan
Chapter 3:
My alarm woke me up early the next morning.
I left the bed stealthily, making sure not to wake Ronald. He was sleeping as soundly as a rock—after I’d returned from his son’s room the previous night, I’d worn him out, riding him to orgasm after orgasm.
My dear, sweet Ronald.
A part of me definitely felt guilty for what I was doing to my loving, supportive husband…but I reminded myself that I wasn’t doing it for me. I was doing it for our family.
For Ursula.
To protect her.
But as I slowly opened the door to Dion’s room, I realized that I wasn’t the only one who’d thought to get up early that morning.
Dion was sitting on his bed, his legs spread, that arrogant look on his face as he watched me enter the room.
And kneeling in front of him on the floor was my daughter, Ursula.
She was wearing flannel pajamas, the type that she’d loved since she was a little girl. And while I couldn’t be sure from the angle I was standing, it looked like the top was unbuttoned.
My daughter had one hand between her legs, the other wrapped around Dion’s sizable cock. Though I was unable to see her face, I would have bet my life that she had a look of adoration on it as she stared up at him, her tiny hand slowly pumping up and down his huge member.
Dion continued to stare at me as Ursula’s head moved forward. Her long hair prevented me from seeing exactly what was happening, but the noises quickly made it obvious.
I wanted to cry out, to tell her to stop. This was my moment—I was fully dressed, and could pretend to have caught them organically.
But I said nothing.
I wanted to leave, to shield my eyes, to turn away.
But I didn’t.
I would have given anything to avoid seeing my darling daughter give head, but for the next few minutes I was helpless. I stood there, unable to move, unable to do anything but watch Ursula give Dion one of the most enthusiastic blowjobs I’d ever seen.
And as I did, his eyes never left my face.
My step-son watched me watch Ursula, until his hips began to buck and he grunted, shooting his seed down my daughter’s throat.
To my horror, Ursula’s orgasm soon followed—her other hand moved to her exposed breast as she fell backwards onto the floor, cumming around her fingers, grabbing at her tit like she was in heat, her step-brother’s seed making its way to her belly.
This was my nightmare. I’d thought that watching Ursula get fucked was the worst thing I could ever, ever see…but this was somehow worse.
Two teenagers having sex, that’s not exactly headline news. It was wrong, of course—everything about this situation was wrong. But I remembered the hormones, the desires of youth.
Dion was a monster, of course, but he was a very attractive monster. Giving into their urges the way they had…on a sick, primal level, that made sense.
But this?
Ursula had gotten off just from giving her step-brother head. He’d used her, and she’d all but thanked him for the privilege.
I’d tried so hard to raise my daughter with self-respect, with self-confidence. To see her blow her brother, and then get off just from making him cum…
It made me sick.
And god help me, it turned me on.
Dion’s eyes moved from my face to my daughter’s, and all of a sudden, I felt like I could breathe again. Like I could move.
I could have fled, as I did the previous morning. But I was standing right beside Dion’s closet, and so I slipped inside and closed it with a soft ‘click’.
The slats in the door allowed me to see what was going on. Almost as soon as Dion’s attention shifted to my daughter, her eyes opened, and she was smiling at him.
“Wow,” she said, a bashful tone in her voice. “God, that was amazing.”
Dion didn’t say anything in response, just smiled down at her. I shifted in discomfort—his attitude was truly disgusting—and was annoyed to discover that his arrogance had turned my nipples as hard as rocks.
“I have band practice tonight,” she said dreamily (Ursula is a percussionist in the school band), before standing up and beginning to rebutton her pajamas. “But I’ll sneak in after everyone goes to bed, okay?”
Dion just grinned, a small response that evoked a peal of laughter from my daughter. She did up her final button, and straddled her step-brother, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him passionately on the lips.
In response, he grabbed her butt with both his hands, and kissed her back. A wave of pleasure passed through my body as I remembered what that had felt like—the total dominance, the feeling of ownership. Ursula melted into the kiss exactly as I had; her eyes looked hazy as she pulled back, before staggering out of the room.
Before I could collect myself, Dion had locked his door and opened the closet.
“Dion—…” I began, but he didn’t let me get more than one word out before pulling me against him. Just as he had a few seconds ago with my daughter, his mouth took mine.
I was wearing pair of pajamas, not unlike my daughters—without saying a thing, he ripped my pajama top open, sending buttons flying everywhere.
I’ll have to pick those up while the kids are at school, I hazily told myself, before Dion’s mouth moved to my exposed breasts, and I lost the ability to form words at all.
Until I had Ursula, I’d always loved having my breasts sucked. After two and half years of breastfeeding, I’d found it too strange to revisit in a sexual context. Ronald had completely understood when I’d told him, and so it had been more than eighteen years since I’d felt any mouth other than my daughter’s on my nipples.
Despite his youth, Dion clearly knew what he was doing—as his mouth made love to my breasts, switching from one to another, I completely lost track of time. When he pulled back, that arrogant look on his face, it could have been ten hours later.
Sense slowly returned to my dazed mind, and I realized what I must look like. My mouth was hanging open, my skin was flushed, my nipples were a deep red, and I was breathing heavily.
“On the bed,” I instructed softly, remembering why I was here.
For Ursula.
To my great relief, Dion obeyed, sitting on the bed and spreading his legs. He was hard again—in fact, I couldn’t even remember seeing him soften after Ursula’s earlier administrations.
I dropped to my knees, blushing harder when I realized that I was in the exact position my daughter had just been in.
As if he could read my mind, Dion’s grin widened. He leaned back—gone was the dominant, possessive boy who had pulled me out of the closet.
Now, he wanted me to do the work.
Just as my daughter had.
I wish I could say that I wasn’t turned on as I leaned forward and took the head of his cock in my mouth. I wish that this had been entirely an act of duty, an effort to save my daughter.
But watching Ursula’s tiny mouth wrapped around this enormous rod had been more erotic than I ever would have imagined. Combined with the performance that Dane’s mouth had just shown my exposed breasts, I was embarrassingly keen to return the favor.
As I took Dane’s member into my mouth, I couldn’t help but marvel at how hard it was. Despite having just seen it, I was struggling to believe that he’d just cum. When my lips got halfway down his hardness that I tasted a hint of semen that my daughter had missed, and I was forced to accept that it was true.
I won’t miss a drop, I assured myself, wriggling uncomfortably when I realized I’d somehow entered into a sexual competition against my daughter.
When my lips met my step-sons pubic hair, he surprised me. Both my hands had been wrapped around the base of his cock—they’d shifted to make way for my mouth, and started gently playing with his balls.
Dion took one of my hands, and leaned forward to place it firmly between my legs. In response to my furrowed eyebrows, he just grinned, and I found myself gently stroking my pussy, playing with the thick bush between my legs.
As my head continued to bob up and down, my tongue massaged my step-son’s thick erection, and my hand brought me ever-closer to orgasm. I was so turned on, it took me a few minutes to realize—this was an exact repeat of the blowjob he’d just received.
The thought should have disgusted me, but ever since Dion’s cock had entered my mouth, I hadn’t been able to think straight, so the sick situation just served to fuel my lust. I couldn’t help but see myself the way he did—a slutty MILF, competing with her own daughter.
I was on my knees, sucking a cock that had just been in my daughter’s mouth, recreating the experience…and getting off as I did.
Just as I had the previous day, I lost what little self-control I had. I started slamming my head up and down, fucking Dion’s cock with my face. I had three fingers inside me, my other hand groping my full breast (probably the most obvious difference between my daughter’s body and mine), emitting grunting noises as I used every weapon in my arsenal to bring my stepson to orgasm.
I was nothing but a mouth for Dion to fuck. I was a set of tits, for him to suck on. I was a hot piece of ass. I was a wet, pliable step-mom for him to jerk off to.
I was there for him to use as he wanted.
As was Ursula.
It was this sick, perverse thought that tipped me over the edge—my orgasm seemed to trigger his own, and I’d just started cumming when I felt his cock tighten, and start pumping his seed into my mouth.
I fell back before he was done, and the last few strings landed on my exposed tits, as my own orgasm peaked.
I don’t know how long I lay there, my eyes closed. No wonder Ursula hadn’t heard me enter the closet—in that moment, Ronald could have come in and started shouting at me me and I probably wouldn’t have noticed.
A thousand thoughts and feelings were running through my head. Guilt, obviously—not about what I was doing (my actions were purely to save my daughter, after all) but about how much I’d enjoyed it. I was a happily married woman; I shouldn’t have been getting off while pleasuring another man.
And I certainly shouldn’t have been thinking about Ursula as I did.
No, I told myself. That was just a mental slip. When you’re cumming, your mind goes to weird places. My daughter’s sudden presence in my coital thoughts didn’t mean anything. I’d just watched her give head, and then recreated the experience—it made total sense that she would be on my mind.
I briefly considered trying to think about my dear Ronald the next time I came, but I knew it wouldn’t work. I loved my husband—I truly did—but he’d never made me feel the way Dion did.
No one ever would.
Finally, I remembered what Ursula had said. She was planning on returning that night—I had until then to wear Dion out.
I had until then to suck him dry. It wouldn’t be easy, but I knew I could do it.
Opening my eyes, I was unsurprised to see Dion smirking at me.
“Again,” I said, and he didn’t object.
Fifteen minutes later, I realized that there might be a problem with my plan. The boy was seemingly insatiable—it seemed like he could go through the Dallas Cheerleaders and still want more—and we only had half an hour before he was due at school.
“Again,” I said, and he just smiled at me.
That time took longer, at least. Aside from the low-level arousal I always get from giving head (I’m a people pleaser!), my heat had all but dissipated. This was no longer an erotic adventure; this was a job that needed to be finished.
“Again,” I said, swallowing down his cum. Dion glanced at the clock.
I wanted to tell him that I was calling in sick to work. I wanted to insist that he stay home from school, tell him that I was his mother, and that I was going to blow him until we were both completely wiped.
But I didn’t.
I sat there silently as he stood, tucking his (still-hard) cock into his pants. I just watched as he got dressed.
And as he left the room, I stayed where I was: kneeling on the floor, Dion’s cum drying on my chest.
“Come straight home from school this afternoon,” I called out weakly. I have no idea if he heard me.
I don’t know it would matter if he did.