Like Sisters

by Ozmanga























































Julia's mother had once been a Playboy Bunny - Miss June of 19-whatever and a runner up for Playboy Bunny of the
Year. She kept copies of all the magazines and photographs published during those golden days and a swag of
unpublished studies, not all by reputable photographers, and some videos made on the way up to the pinnacle of
Bunnyhood and beyond. After Julia was conceived she went back to school and qualified as an accountant.
Julia's mother was proud of her looks then, and now - eighteen years or so later - she still turned heads and stirred loins
as she went about her work of picking holes in the taxation legislation to help wealthy clients minimize their tax. She
worked out, stayed trim and only occasionally missed the life she had once enjoyed. 
Her collection of work and portfolio of studio portraits was often taken out and admired by Julia, who didn't get to see
all the photographs or videotapes until she was a student at Uni. By then Julia was sophisticated enough (or so she
thought) to appreciate the artistry in the studies of her mother - looking like a slightly rounder version of herself -
wearing nothing but a smile or various skimpy outfits of leather, vinyl, and occasionally latex. In some of the studies
she was the bound, gagged and helpless victim of one or more lecherous looking men and women. In others she took
the dominant role and was shown wielding a variety of implements in a fantastic display of mock sadism. Julia liked
those best of all. So, she discovered one warm summer night, did her mother.
While Julia was studying, her mother was a frequent visitor to her flat.  She would tidy up, cook a number of meals
which could be stored in the freezer, and sort out any money problems - such as those of Julia's philosophy tutor,
Timothy Jones. He was attempting to appeal to the Taxation Department against their latest assessment of his "debt".
Julia's mother was very popular with her daughter's contemporaries. She liked it when Julia's boyfriends said (as they
always did) words to the effect of, "Mother and daughter? No! You two must be sisters."
This conversational gambit had a way of developing into a spot of comparative anatomy, usually to Julia's
disadvantage."I think Julia has slightly smaller breasts," the ex-bunny would say, pushing her chest out ever so little,
"and a bit more bottom."
An invitation to "Feel! Which of us is the firmer!" would result in Julia's mother and Julia herself being groped by
some randy fellow student, to their mutual pleasure and his eternal amazement. Despite the likelihood of this sort of
behaviour leading to many a menage a trois, Julia's mother's antics never resulted in anything more untoward than
heavy breathing. That is, until the night that Timothy called in with yet another batch of receipts, pay-slips and notices
of tax paid and other certificates he had found under his thesis notes.
Tim was a nervous, conservative, young academic and the only visitor to Julia's flat who had met her mother and had
not uttered the ritual "You two must be sisters" speech. This upset Julia's mother more than she cared to admit. When
they first met to talk about his tax problem Timothy had just looked at the former oh-so-nearly Bunny of the Year,
blushed, looked away and mumbled a polite greeting.
Julia's mother thought he might be gay, and said so when the diminutive philosopher had departed. Her daughter
disagreed.  Timothy, she said, was known to be shy, and despite his small stature and stammer, he was regarded as
"quite a dish" by the faculty females. Julia hoped one day to coax him out of his shell. Her mother was skeptical.
"I've spent hours on his tax problem and he hasn't once made a token pass at me!" she exclaimed, "It's not natural. Just
wait until Friday, when I see him next. I'll show you how to 'coax' him!"
Julia should have heeded the warning.
                         *     *     *
"Be a Darling," Julia's mother said, looking up from the pile of dockets, letters and receipts she and Timothy had
spread over the kitchen table, "and pop down to that little Thai cafe in Badham Street. A green curry would be nice ...
and some honey prawns and whatever you fancy. I know they take an age but the food is really wonderful." 
Julia should have guessed what was in her mother's mind but she needed to go to the library which was only five
minutes walk from the Phuket (How the two of them had giggled when the sign first went up!) so she set off with a
will. The scene that met her startled gaze when she returned over an hour later, clutching a plastic bag of Thai
takeaway, took Julia by surprise.
Her tutor, Timothy, stripped to his underpants, was kneeling astride her mother. In one hand he held a brassiere with a
broken clasp while the other was kneading an exposed tit of classical proportions. The ex-bunny was wearing nothing
more than her slip and stockings - her other clothes were spread around the room, mixed up with photographic studies
from her much-loved portfolio. The video was playing "Madame Whiplash II" starring you-know-who while she had
one hand in Timothy's pants, grasping his penis by its roots.
"J... J ... J ..."   attempted Timothy, looking embarrassed.
"Rape!" said Julia's mother.
"N ..!" said Timothy, looking terrified.
"I said, 'Rape!'" asserted the fleshly echo of the video screen
Julia snorted. "You can't rape a philosophy tutor," she said. "Besides he's on top!"
Her mother looked pained. "He," she said, "tried to rape me!"
"N ... N ... N..." stammered Timothy.
"He took advantage of me. I was showing him how little I had changed since those studies were taken when he jumped
me."
"N ... Nyarch," squeaked Timothy as Julia's mother tightened her grip on his erection.
"Just as well you returned when you did, Julia, or who knows what this...this...lewd little scholar might done to your
mother! And such a big prick for such a little man!"
"OOH ...  Nyah ..." wailed Timothy as Julia's mother twisted the member in question
"How did he manage to get undressed without you noticing?" asked Julia. "I'll bet he spilled something on his shirt and
trousers."
"Coffee. How did you know?" 
"'Madam Whiplash III', Mother, before you tied you co-star to the bed-head. Remember?"
Julia's mother had the grace to look a little bit shamefaced before continuing with her blatantly false story.
"I say he tried to rape me. I'm sticking to my story, so what are we going to do about it?" 
"'We', Mother?"
She grinned wickedly. "Well I can't keep him in this grip until the police get here. There's some of my old equipment
on top of your wardrobe. Get it down. We'll use it to secure him until the law arrives."
Timothy managed to gargle, "N ... N ... Don't call the c ... c ... police! M... misunderstanding... not rape ... thought...
willing... I'm  s ... s ... s ..."
"Sore?" guessed Julia eyeing the purpling tip of Tim's erection now poking over the elastic band of his underpants.
"S... S... S..." he hissed desperately.
"Sex mad?" said Julia sweetly.
"S ... Sorry!" gasped Tim, "Sorry."
"And so you bloody-well should be. Trying to fuck my mother the moment my back is turned. How do you think that
makes me feel. You've been coming here for weeks and not once have you... Oh! I don't give a damn whether it was
rape or not. You deserve whatever happens to you! I'll get the gear. Hold onto him," said Julia. 

She put the take-away on the pile of papers and left her mother and the pocket sized philosopher still entwined on the
floor.
When Julia returned carrying a mixed bag of straps, cuffs, chains and other paraphernalia, Timothy was standing up
with his pants around his ankles and his hands behind his back. Julia's mother now had him in a one-handed grip by his
scrotum. With her other hand she lightly stroking the underside of his throbbing prick.
"I think he really is sorry," she said to her daughter, "but I can't condone his behaviour."
"Nor me," said Julia, fastening Tim's hands behind his back with an illegal pair of police issue handcuffs. "He should
be punished.."
"If we report him he'll probably lose his job ... perhaps I did give him the wrong idea," said Julia's mother. "Maybe we
should punish him ourselves?"
Tim nodded, swallowed and was about to speak when Julia used a cane, found in the grab-bag, to flick to the tip of his
blood engorged penis. He howled and would have hopped about the room but for the claw like grip around his testicles
which held him firmly in one spot.
"If we decide to punish you ourselves you'll get worse than that," said Julia's mother. "Are you sure you can take it?"
Tim nodded. "P ... P ... Please...," he began, tears of pain in his eyes. He wasn't allowed to finish the sentence. Julia's
mother knocked his feet from under him with a sweep of her leg and he fell onto his back on the carpeted floor. His
descent was slowed - and made more painful -  by her grip on his goolies which she now released.
She knelt astride his chest and stripped off her slip. She cupped her breasts in her hands and slowly leaned over him
offering first one nipple and then the other.
"Lick them, Timothy," she said. "Use your tongue to go round and round and your lips to pull gently ... not too quickly
or I shall beat you .... Ah! That's good!"
Julia saw her mother's nipples extend as Tim's tongue and lips massaged first one pink tipped breast then the other.
"For such a stumble-tongue you're doing very well," said the woman shifting her position so Tim's head was beneath
her crotch. "Let's see how you perform in this area." And she indicated her smoothly shaven mons veneris and gently
swollen labia, parted a little in anticipation of stimulation.
She looked up at Julia and smiled. "Pop the takeaway into the fridge, Dear. We're going to need all the sustenance we
can get to help us through the next few hours." Then she pushed her cunt hard up against the philosopher's mouth, took
him by the ears and proceeded to fuck his head.
"I don't see why you shouldn't join in the, er, punishment, Julia. Get undressed, Dear, see if he can taste the difference."
By the time Tim had brought Julia's mother to a cunnilingual climax Julia had stripped and was more than ready to be
licked to an orgasm. Tim obliged, and after twenty or so ecstatic minutes it was Julia's mother's turn once more to
punish the poor tutor. He lay on his back his prick standing stiffly to attention - as it had for the past hour. Timothy was
ready to explode.
"Why!" exclaimed the ex bunny, "you are still thinking of poking that thing into me or Julia, aren't you?"
Tim groaned and ran his tongue over his swollen and sticky lips.
"Well," said his tormentor, "I'm going to let you. But if you come before you have satisfied both of us I'm going to get
really nasty. Understand?"
"B ... B ... But ..." protested Tim as Julia's mother gently impaled herself on his enormous erection.
Tim tried to contain himself as she slid up and down his swollen tool made slick by both his and her natural juices. He
closed his eyes so that the sight of her magnificent body rising and falling would not excite him further. He desperately
tried to avoid a climax as he felt the muscles of her vaginal walls rhythmically squeeze his throbbing prick by thinking
deep philosophical thoughts of icebergs, penguins and cold showers but, alas, Tim's efforts were in vain. With a shriek
and a shudder he came in several mighty spasms before the lady had even begun to warm up.  
After he was made to clean up the site of the disaster orally,  Tim's disobedience was punished with a severe flogging.
Tim was bent over a chair and Julia's mother thrashed his buttocks with the cane. To Julia's surprise, this caused
Timothy to rise again. Perhaps his resurrection was due in part to Julia's donning red high heels, black stockings and a
matching lace Merry Widow corset (one of her mother's costumes) and parading in front of the securely fastened Tim
as he was beaten. Whatever the cause, she was soon sliding on to his empurpled prick her high heels scoring the back
of his thighs and her finger-nails raking his chest until they both climaxed, more-or-less together. 
Julia's mother, seeing her daughter achieve such success by dressing in fetish gear, responded by slipping into a
fantastic arrangement of leather straps, complete with belt-on dildo. When Julia saw her mother arrayed with this
appendage she thought for a moment that she was to be the recipient  - as in "Lesbian Lust"  - but the first employment
of this massive rubber phallus was on Timothy's exposed anus.
They had tied him firmly to a heavy cast-iron garden table dragged in from the balcony to serve as an anchor for their
temporary slave. They thought his howls would disturb the neighbors so Julia buried his face in her muff as her mother
sodomized him for an hour or more.
Tim served supper and washed it up before he was again required to perform. When they were ready for bed they tied
him to it before climbing aboard. That night and the following Saturday passed in an orgy of sexual excess. They
dressed Tim in a little apron for his role as waiter and when he brought them breakfast in the morning Julia's mother
beat him with a riding crop because it was stained with semen. 
His meals were taken off their pudenda. Messy eating resulted in another whacking. Julia's ecstatic moans triggered
her mother's desires and vice versa. Tim was kept on the job all day. When he flagged they flogged him upright once
more and if that didn't work (sometimes he was just too exhausted) they made him put his tongue, toes or fingers to
good use. 
On Sunday morning they tied Tim to the bed head and thrashed him until he achieved tumescence then fellated him
until he came. Poor Tim, he tried so hard to avoid the beatings that he knew would follow the spurt of semen. He
closed his eyes to avoid seeing their soft lips, bright with lipstick, closed around his swollen blue-veined cock and his
aching testes. Despite his best efforts he could not hold out for ever and his frequent moans of pleasure were
sandwiched between howls of pain.
They let him go on Sunday afternoon. Miraculously he had lost his stutter.  He begged Julia's mother to continue to
help him with his tax, he apologized again for the misunderstanding and hoped the manner in which he had endured
his punishment had in some way atoned for his actions. He kissed them both lustfully as he departed.
"I can't believe you're mother and daughter," he said, "You're more like sisters."