Chapter 6

It’s been about a year since I committed this story to paper. I thought you might be interested in recent developments at the farm.

Jenna was diagnosed with an extremely aggressive form of breast cancer and passed away several months ago. Donny left the house to stay in one of the other homes housing only men. He and Mom didn’t gel in Jenna’s absence and, in truth, they had never fully renewed their ties. Donny couldn’t stay in the house because there were too many memories of Jenna. Despite his earlier involvement, many years ago, with multiple women, Jenna really was his true love and he seemed lost without her. He only lasted six weeks in the other home before he decided he needed to get away from the farm. Coincidentally, his solution was to hop in the farm’s sailboat, a 40 foot classic ketch (I hadn’t realized there was one) with everyone’s blessing. Jenny and I, and Mom, were left in sole possession of the big house. Jenny and I moved into the big bedroom that had formerly been occupied by Donny and Jenna.

Jenny became pregnant. There is no doubt whose child it is, she hasn’t been with anyone but me since I arrived. Daughters really need their mother, especially when having their first child. Although Mom hadn’t been around most of Jenny’s life, Jenny had heard about her since she was little and knew there was a special bond between Mom and Jenna. In Jenna’s absence, Mom became Jenny’s surrogate mother.

Bjorn (Borg had been an idol Mom and Jenna shared) was born a couple of months ago, just before Donny left. Perhaps it was the birth of his first grandson that prompted Donny to renew his search for adventure, his youth, or to realize his bucket list had not been realized. I don’t know. Anyway, one evening, I had just put on a huge fire and Mom and I were sitting around on the floor in front of the couch like we had those fateful evenings at home. Jenny came in from feeding the baby and putting him down for the night. Mom moved over and patted the rug between us and Jenny squeezed in, pulling her dress up to enjoy the heat of the fire.

“Whew,” she sighed. “What a great fire.”

As usual, little Bjorn hadn’t been up to the task of emptying Jenny’s modest breasts and they were still swollen with milk. Jenny’s dress, which she had forgotten to rebutton, was open to her navel. As my eyes traveled over her breasts, I noticed a residue of milk on the breast Bjorn had last suckled and a drop forming on the nipple of the other. I reached over and wiped the residue from the closest breast. Surprised, Jenny started to close her dress.

“Oh, sorry,” she cried. “I forgot.”

But before she could close the dress Mom’s hand cupped the bottom of the other breast and her finger swooped up, capturing the drop of milk, now fully formed and in danger of dripping off Jenny’s tit. Mom brought her finger to her mouth and sucked the milk from her fingers.

“Mmmmmm,” she crowed, “that kid is a wasteful little monkey.”

It was my turn to be surprised. Jenny looked positively shocked.

I pulled Jenny’s dress apart and cupped the breast I had just cleaned, catching the droplet that had now formed there. Bringing my finger to my lips, I repeated Mom’s appreciation.

“Mmmmmm, my son’s meal is my dessert.”

Mom laughed out loud and I chuckled at my own joke.

Jenny, however, didn’t laugh. Regarding her breast with a strange expression, she scooped up the new droplet forming where Mom had retrieved her treat. Slowly, Jenny turned to Mom and put her milky finger to Mom’s lips and, gazing intensely into her eyes, pushed her finger in. Mom’s face revolved in a tiny oval as she sucked hard on Jenny’s finger, her eyes locked on the younger woman’s. Mom’s mouth popped when Jenny pulled her finger out, she was sucking it so hard.

I replaced my hand on Jenny’s tit, cupping it from below, and waited for another droplet of milk to form. Mom copied my action, cupping the other breast. Jenny looked down at our hands cupping her breasts. She extended her finger onto the nipple of the breast I was holding and bent it over, rushing the formation of the next droplet. Appreciatively, I pulled my finger up and offered it to Jenny, pushing it into her mouth when she parted her lips.

We both turned our eyes to the breast Mom was cupping. She had taken Jenny’s nipple between the thumb and forefinger of her other hand and was squeezing it to force a droplet of milk onto the finger held below it. Upon success, Mom raised the finger to Jenny’s mouth and pushed it inside. I bent my head, took Jenny’s nipple into my mouth, and began to suck. A moment later, I opened my eyes when Mom’s hair brushed my head. She was sucking Jenny’s other nipple. I felt Jenny’s hand cradle my head and saw her other hand doing the same for Mom’s.

Ten minutes went by while Mom and I sucked Jenny’s breasts. When we finally pulled away, her nipples were standing up rock hard and Jenny, breathing heavily, was lying with her head back and eyes closed. Mom brushed her palm back and forth, bending Jenny’s prominent nipple this way and that. I copied her action. Jenny kept her eyes closed and remained otherwise unresponsive though we had long since passed the boundary for nonsexual behavior.

Mom dipped her head and started licking, then sucking and releasing, Jenny’s nipple. Her left hand dropped to Jenny’s lap and onto her thigh, pausing briefly before slipping between her legs.

“Have you started making love to her yet?” she whispered to me when I brought my head close to play with Jenny’s other nipple.

“No,” I whispered back. “I was waiting for her to tell me when she was ready.”

Mom’s hand moved higher, under Jenny’s skirt. Jenny parted her legs and moaned when Mom’s fingers contacted her panties.

“She’s ready,” Mom said.

For several minutes, I watched Mom’s hand moving under Jenny’s dress. Jenny’s breathing became more and more ragged, soon joined by Mom’s own quiet panting, and mine. I moved my hand down to join Mom but she elbowed me away.

“Pull her panties down,” she instructed.

I reached under Jenny’s dress to grab her panties by each hip and dragged them down, pulling Mom’s hand away with them. Jenny’s eyes fluttered open but quickly closed again when Mom’s fingers returned to trace a path up the soft inside of her thighs. I tossed the panties aside and pushed my hand above Jenny’s knee to follow Mom up her other thigh. Jenny gasped when Mom’s delicate fingers reached her pussy.

“Ohhhhhhhh, ohhhhhhhhhh, mmmmmmmmm,” she cooed.

I waited in the wings for my turn to play. Jenny was arching her back and writhing against the couch in response to Mom’s ministrations, reacting more intensely than when I caressed her the same way. There was no way, I realized, that I could compete with the soft, knowing touch of another woman’s hand.

“Come inside,” Mom whispered, urging me to push my hand forward. “I’ll do the delicate stuff. You go inside. We like it rough too, sometimes.”

I pushed up and inserted my fingers into Jenny’s pussy, the wettest it had ever felt to me. Jenny gasped.

“That’s right, fill her,” Mom whispered.

I could feel Mom’s hand moving above mine and guessed that her fingers were fluttering over Jenny’s clit. I clamped down on Jenny’s tit and sucked her nipple hard.

“Ohhhhhh, God,” she cried. Whether in response to my action or something Mom was doing, I didn’t know.

Mom and I settled in, sucking Jenny’s tits and working her pussy, inside and out. Jenny’s sighs and moans grew louder and more frequent, and her movements more frantic and erratic, until finally, with an intense heave that dislodged Mom and I from tit and cunt, she came.