...I Started To Enjoy It

Lois' heart beat faster at her mother's confession.

"What...what do you mean?" The reporter's voice was small, as though she were trying to sink into herself.

"I don't know when it happened, really. But laying there, I began to get...turned on. I stopped seeing you as just my daughter...and started seeing you as a woman. A ripe, beautiful young woman." Ella Lane reached across the table to take Lois' hand.

"You know a woman is never so beautiful as when she is being fucked, don't you? Oh, we put on our perfumes and makeup, our dresses and graces, but to see a woman's true self—stick a cock in her cunt, or her ass, or mouth. And I saw you taken...and taken...every which way, over and over again."

Lois licked dry lips, and her mother was by her side in an instant, bringing the cool grey-white cocktail to the reporter's lips.

"I was there," the old woman whispered "as your virginity was taken again, and again. The look on your face when you had two cocks drill into your ass at the same time—priceless. It got to the point where I would look forward to every variation of it, to see what new spectacle they had in store for me."

The reporter finished the cocktail, grey goo sliding heavily down her throat, a blush forming across her nose and cheeks.

"But it wasn't real." Ella's voice became sad. "Maybe that was the next level of my punishment. I wanted...something I could never get. Because it wasn't really you, doing all those things."

Cold fingers brushed Lois' cheek, a familiar smell—her mother's perfume—came back to her like a a childhood afternoon. Tears came to the reporter's eyes.

"Mom," her voice was choked. "Why are you here?"