She recoiled, choking back a cry of astonishment! A dreaded chill shot up her spine, blinding her brain momentarily from the shock of the carnal exhibition before her, and she slumped against the door-jamb, utterly speechless with incomprehension. Insensibly, she wasn't filled with loathing and hatred, even as her mind recovered sufficiently to put into mental words the lustful tableaux on the bed.
Her mother was lying on her back in an unnatural position of love-making, only there wasn't any partner! She was fingering herself and rubbing her breasts, the whole of her soft, hair-lined vaginal slit pinkly open to Wendy's wide-eyed stare, and she was moaning with passion-crazed, clenched-mouth delight, the chant slurred.
"Ohhhhh… Ohhhhh, ohhhhh…"
Marleen's hollowed buttocks were lifted several inches off the bed as she struggled upward desperately trying to absorb the entirety of her hand in her hungry cunt, a wet slavering sound drifting across the room to burn her daughter's ears, and she flexed her thighs, squeezing them rhythmically up and down the smooth poles of her fingers and then Wendy heard the muffled shouts from the next door apartment: "That's it, Gloria… I'm going to cummmm! I'm going to cum in your mouth. Suck, baby, suck my cock!"
That new tenant! Wendy reeled inwardly from the brazen, lewd implications, and she blinked the way an owl does as she tried to sort out and rationally absorb the total knowledge of what was going on. David Preston was in his room with some girl named Gloria… and she was sucking his cock… and here, before her uncomprehending view, her mother was reveling in the depravity of their acts, obscenely masturbating with all the abandonment of a slut off the streets, doing to herself what Wendy had been taught to consider as one of the more loathsome practices, a defilement and degradation on the parts of a female which should be kept clean in spirit and flesh. Hadn't her camp counselor warned her about self-abuse? Hadn't Old Lady Witherspoon in her Health Class told them all that such practices can turn you mad and cause pimples and only degenerates did such things to themselves? Hadn't her mother always told her to keep her vagina and breasts holy and to keep her respect in her soul?
My God, she'd never dreamed of such a pagan display of abandonment, for while the cries of craving filtering from next door were terrible, the idea of kissing a penis so unthinkable, it was to be expected of others, of weaker mortals…
But now, twisting obscenely in front of her was her own mother!
Her Rock of Gibraltar crumbled, her foundation cracked and dissolved like sand before her eyes… She had placed her mother on a pedestal, made her God-like the way a child does when dependent on the wisdom of the parent; but the time must come for disenchantment, or the child can never fully grow and reach mature independence. Most often the awareness that Mother – or Father – is not perfect and has feet of clay comes over a period of time and is apt to be called "teenage rebellion", and in healthy situations this eventually turns into a young adult seeking his own way but regarding his parents in a new and better light, in the respect due a human being by another, not in adoring worship.
The trouble was, Wendy had not let herself evolve to that point, for she was extremely close to her mother and had always thought of her in terms of someone superior. This, now, was cataclysmic to her, a sudden rupture of everything she'd deemed holy and untainted, and when added to the rest of the evening's horrors, made her teeter on the brink of insanity, like abruptly finding out that God doesn't exist after having devoted your whole life to priest-hood, or discovering that the absolute Rights of the world were Wrongs, or at least only Maybes.
So as she watched her mother play with her nipples, peak them and roll them between her forefinger and thumb, and jerk and lunge her lower body as if devil-possessed with her other hand swirling among the dark black hair of her widely stretched cunt, Wendy was shattered, gaping wide-mouthed at the bouncing bed. Her brain was angered to a furious pitch of illogical rejection: her mother had only been spouting trite phrases, hypocritical platitudes which were said but not believed! All the lecturing, all the warnings to watch out for hands and mouths and the saving grace of waiting for the uncarnal love was a basket of crap! In practice, her mother was as debauched and lewd as any whore imaginable! What a God-damned fool Wendy had been – she should have let Clyde fuck her silly tonight, and should have long ago spread her legs for every boy who came along. Actions speak louder than, and are worth a thousand of, words – and Wendy saw the truth. Or, she thought she saw the truth… for Marleen Franklin, having fallen off the pedestal she had been placed on in Wendy's mind, was no longer a white icon, but a black devil… the truth of being a little of both, of being grey and human, hadn't yet entered Wendy's small world…
Wendy told herself to go in and tear her mother from her wild spectacle of unadulterated passion, but she couldn't. She couldn't even turn away and leave her mother to her own ungodly revelries, for she found herself still not revolted and sickened by seeing the naked body spread-eagled in lewdness on the bed, but wildly fascinated – and why not? she asked herself… isn't that the way she should be now, not that she'd woken up to the facts? But as much as she wanted to reject her mother, there was still the unconscious tug of love and devotion running below the surface of her immediate reactions, making her keep her eyes on that black pubic mound of hair that was being so blatantly aroused, making her stay for the exact opposite reason she was telling herself was the force which kept her at the door. Love… hate; often the difference is hard to distinguish, frequently co-mingling in ambivalent attitudes.
"Ohhh… Umm… Ohhhh… Suck, Gloria, suck…"
Wendy heard the sounds and saw her mother's eyes grow glassy and sticky lubrications seep from between her smooth, fleshy buttocks as they ground and bumped in her wild ride to ecstasy. Then, Wendy groaned inwardly, her breath hot and heavy in her constricted chest, there was where I was born, between those long legs and downy soft black curls was the heart of my conception.
Marleen, unaware that her daughter was so enraptured, yet so destroyed, by watching her finger herself to orgasm, was squirming lewdly in the throes of her passion, seeing mentally their boarder's huge, glistening cock ramming in and out of the hotly sucking woman's clasping mouth, and her hands became that cock, and her gasps matched those of the surging bodies on the other side of the wall. Oh, how she wished Howie was here to pump his cum into her hot, searing passage, for the fingers weren't enough as her thoughts centered on the thick member ravishing the other woman's lips, and she had to have more but there was nothing except her fingers. In desperation she reached up over her buttocks with the hand which had been working her breasts and searched the wet anal crevice, and squirmed a finger in the tiny puckered rectum between her moon-shaped buttocks. She gasped from her haste, as the finger dug painfully into the soft, rubbery walls of her ass, sending a sharp jolt through her, then electric tingles of darting pleasure raced through her again and her face colored crimson as she felt her climax coming, coming with a great roar…
"Ahhhhhh!" Preston screamed through the partition. "I'm there!"
Wendy shuttered with emphatic identification as she sensed that the people in the other apartment were cumming and her mother was responding, and her own barely tried genitals ached like a seething volcano, ready to burst but not stimulated to that apex yet. She projected her own wishful fantasies as she looked at her mother's vaginal mound and tight, hairless anus being insanely ravished by her own fingers, sucked in her breath as she saw a mighty shudder break in waves across her lust-filled face, and clenched her thighs shut as her mother moaned out her self-induced orgasm…