Cuckolded by Her Mother Ch. 08

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A spa treatment goes awry when the MILF takes advantage...
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Part 8 of the 45 part series

Updated 06/08/2023
Created 03/08/2018
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This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.

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Cuckolded by Her Mother

Chapter 8

"A mother and daughter...spa day?"

Fyr eyed the brochure speculatively, one eyebrow raised. The blue dragoness sitting opposite her at the kitchen table, her belly swelling with a dragonet, tipped her head to the side, almost as if she was trying to appease her own daughter. But the thought had to be dismissed from Fyr's head almost as soon as it appeared and it was only with great restraint that her crimson-scaled daughter held herself back from an unduly snappy comment. Although it may have been well-deserved, what with her mother taking a male who was certainly not her husband to bed with her, she sealed her lips closed and merely shook her head.

There was no chance, no way. She wasn't going to a spa just to play nice with her mom. Fyr's frown deepened. And her mother, knowing her as well as she did, clawed at the opportunity slipping away from her fingertips like water cupped between her paws.

"We haven't done anything with just the two of us in so long, Fyr," her mother murmured, her tone as wheedling and plaintive as she could possibly make it. "It'll be nice to have some time where it's just the two of us again."

If she'd been a younger dragoness, Fyr would have described the expression her mother made as 'pouting', faintly glossed aquamarine lips pursing in.

"Is that really what you think?" She questioned, a line across her forehead as her brow furrowed. "Or are you trying to get me out of the way so that you and Ropes can do something on your own?"

Sasha barely suppressed her smirk, but her wide and innocent eyes weren't fooling anyone.

"Why would you ever think I was trying to get you out of the way, so to speak, for a little while, honey?"

The dragoness' voice dripped with sugary sweetness as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth, so great was her purity and abject innocence. Raising an eyebrow, Fyr pressed her fingers to her temples and allowed her to go on.

"I mean, it's not as if it's something I've ever done before, sweetheart," she murmured, running her paw down her daughter's arm, even as Fyr shivered beneath her touch. "It's just that sometimes a lady and her gentlefur need a little more private time..."

Her eyes glittered wickedly.

"You can always take care of us afterwards, you know," she whispered, Fyr's breath catching as her mother put her lips intimately close to her ear, stirring a need in the pit of her belly that she had not known was still there. "I would never deny you that... Well, not unless I really wanted to. I think something about that excites you too."

Fyr sucked in a breath and studiously averted her eyes, pulse jumping at the side of her throat. Her eyes slid away to the kitchen, the dishes piled in the sink that she hadn't gotten the chance to wash since, well... Her cheeks reddened with a blush and she fought down the need to press her paws over them, hiding what she would only draw more attention to through the action. Sasha blinked pleasantly to her, folding her paws across her lap as if she actually wanted Fyr's eyes pulled down and down and down -- but not to the wickedness that she could have played with her daughter, but the swell of her belly, the dragonet that grew within, waiting on its entrance to the world.

Fyr gulped. Although her mother was not all that far gone, it was still noticeable when her clothes fell in the right way, framing the change in her body that was coming long after her supposed prime years for bearing young. She could probably still get away with it in public or with those not in the know. And, as the father was Fyr's own husband, there was no one else in the know.

Well, not that she knew of.

Swallowing and rubbing the back of her paw across her lips, Fyr struggled for words, pushing her chain back over the linoleum with an obnoxious scrape that made Sasha grimace and frown, mouth opening in a quick reprimand that Fyr had been all too used to in her younger years.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said quickly, cutting across Sasha just as the words began to leave the sanctity of her lips. "But I have things to do around here, so, if you want to go to the spa and flounce around, you'll simply have to go off and do it on your own."

"Fyr."

The crimson dragon froze, one paw on the tap. A soap sud bobbed in the half-full sink, water lapping gently at the curves of bowls like sunken ships rising from murky depths. She didn't need to turn to know there was a steely look in her mother's eye and, if the dragoness had had a shade less self-control, her fingers would have been rap-tap-tapping on the smooth wood of the kitchen table too.

Growling, Fyr ducked her head, shoulders rounding. Why couldn't she just get a break once in a while? Why was it so important that she go to the darned spa?

Or was it?

"Wouldn't you rather go with Ropes?" Fyr hid her sigh, facing away. "I still have the decorations to put up in the nursery. I really want to get that finished."

Her mother shook her head.

"Oh no, honey, we'll all do that together -- that's the best part!"

Fyr suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. It wasn't as if she'd been the one left to do most of the nursery herself, after all. Okay, well, they had been a little more proactive in helping -- if that also included distracting her by desecrating every available surface in the nursery itself with their rather sordid, raunchy activities.

"So, it's settled then," her mother giggled, standing up with a degree more finesse than Fyr had to begin with. "We'll both be going to the spa today -- oh, how exciting!"

Clapping her paws together, Sasha near enough bounced on the balls of her hind paws, acting more like a hyper teenager than a dragoness with years and wisdom to her name. Despite herself, Fyr could not help but smile. There was something about her mother's simple joy that lightened her heart too, the knowledge of what was to come in future months and... Fyr tried not to let the thought through, but the years of what was to come with the dragonet growing and learning weighed on her like a lead bar balanced across her shoulders. The slightest redistribution of weight would send her off-balance and crashing down -- and who knew what that would bring!

Glancing back at her mother, whose stream of burbling conversation had not while she mused internally, conflict rising to the surface, Fyr frowned minutely, a headache throbbing in her skull. Sasha fluttered her fingers as she left, moving lips telling her daughter to be ready in a half hour, but Fyr barely heard her, sounds reaching her ears as if she was deep underwater, sinking and not swimming up to the surface.

Maybe a day at the spa would be something needed after all.

But that remained to be seen.

*

Lying on a massage table beside her mother, Fyr wriggled in the uncomfortable robe that was supposed to be fluffy and light and wished she was wearing her own clothes. For reasons that were beyond her, the masseuse had asked that they both strip down to, well, nothing at all and don the health club attire, branded and freshly washed. At any other time, perhaps it would have felt nice brushing over her scales, but something about wearing clothing that was not her own set the dragoness' skin crawling and it was all she could do to not claw the thing off entirely and expose herself to her own mother. Not that Sasha hadn't seen it all before, of course.

"Are you sure this is supposed to be relaxing?" She grumbled, turning her head from side to side to avoid the hole in the massage table, which she supposed was where she was expected to place her muzzle. "It just seems...weird."

A muffled giggle emanated from the other massage table, Sasha more comfortably situated with her blue wings tucked in close to her back, the holes in the back of the robe allowing her to extend or fold them in as she pleased. Fyr winced at the memory of just how long it had taken her to work out how to wriggle her wings through those holes rather than buttoning up a shirt around them. She huffed a sigh. Why did things have to be so complicated?

"Relax, Fyr, you might even enjoy yourself," Sasha chided her softly. "It's not something that you're supposed to be stressed about."

The dragoness ground her teeth together and growled, albeit quietly.

"Then why am I here?"

Lifting her head, Sasha shot her a look.

"To relax, sugar. Truly, you do work too hard."

"Only because of you."

She muttered the words too quietly for Sasha to hear, although her unrest was certainly noticed. It passed quietly, under the radar, and Fyr focused on the quiet music that the masseuse had left playing, the ebb and flow of the rising and falling tune making her eyelids heavier than they really should have been for...what was it? Mid-morning? So late already!

Anxiousness for all she had let to do in her day fluttered in her chest, a trapped bird beating its wings against the prison of its cage. The nursery! There was not much left to do there, but the ranch, the barn... Everything had to be bought for the little one, they needed to get everything in advance, make sure all was good and ready and as it should be. The dragonet would be treated as if it was her own with only the very best, regardless of the situation, and she simply couldn't slack off when she should have been working! Heavens -- she already only had the evenings in the week, when Sasha and Ropes weren't making use of her in various, divine ways, to get most of the stuff done and life was going on while she lay still, waiting and waiting on a massage that did not even seem to be coming!

But, somehow, the soft lighting and music soothed her soul, heart beat slowly and patiently calling her back to a realm of peace and warmth and light. Even the robe didn't seem all that bad as she relaxed down into the table, trying to imagine how someone else's fingers and palms would feel manipulating her muscles. How long had it been since she'd had anything remotely resembling a massage? She cast back, remembering delicious days when Ropes had been courting her, sitting on a red and white picnic blanket as he dug his fingers lightly into her shoulders, tentacles fleeting, ecstatic caresses where his paws were not.

Yes, those had been good times. And the times she was in then were still good times, only different times. As all would come right in the end.

After a while, Fyr yawned, the soothing music lulling her half to sleep. It had been a while... Quite a while, in fact. Twisting, she scrunched up the soft gown around her legs and grumbled as her tail caught in the swathe of fabric, rendering her half trapped in self-bondage right then and there. But at least her muzzle wasn't gagged.

"Are they coming back?" She murmured, eyes too heavy to even consider opening them properly again. "It's been a while."

Sasha frowned and propped herself up on the table, scales indented lightly around her face where she'd pressed into the ring of the hole in the padded table. Against herself, Fyr giggled quietly.

"Hello? Yoo-hoo!"

Sasha flapped her fingers as if that would encourage the attending member of staff to hurry along. Fyr rolled her eyes and suppressed a huff. She could just put her face down in the hole in the table if Sasha got really embarrassing. Hey, maybe that's what that thing was actually for! She giggle-snorted and promptly stifled the sound with the back of her paw across her lips. Hiding from mother induced humiliation!

However, as Sasha called and shouted, it seemed that her display had attracted the due attention. A long-haired canine with a delicate snout stepped in, wide-eyed and a clipboard held to her chest.

"Ladies, I am so terribly sorry," she said in a low, serious tone. "We did not mean to leave you alone for, ah, quite so long."

Not even her tail wagged, but Sasha tucked her arms beneath her chest, propping herself up with as pleasant a smile as she'd ever had plastered across her lips.

"Oh, that's no worry at all!" She chirped, her voice shockingly breezy in contrast to how she'd been flailing for attention a mere moment ago. "But what's taking so long? I'm sure we were supposed to start a good few minutes ago, but I don't have my watch on me!"

Sasha frowned and shook her head, an elder's disapproval throbbing in her temple.

"Honestly, I've never had to wait this long before. Have you a busy day? We were booked in, were we not?"

At any other time, Fyr would have been frustrated at her mother's impatience, but anything that got her out of the polished setting with greater haste was a positive thing in her books. Sasha could cause as much of a ruckus as she liked as long as she could haul tail out.

Evidently the attending canine -- she didn't have a name tag, Fyr noted -- thought so too, as she paused for a moment as if collecting herself to respond in an appropriate manner.

I feel you, sister!

"I'm so sorry for the delay, ma'am," the prim canine said, tapping her crimson tails against the ones on the opposite paw. "But our masseuse has been taken quite ill and I'm afraid we shall have to send for a replacement. Our on call treatment specialist will be in to see you momentarily, I promise."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, I am afraid so, but we will have another in very, very soon for you."

The canine seemed to perk up with that and the very tip of her lip tongue poked out from her lips, tail picking up in the very faintest of wags.

"Now, could I interest you ladies in anything to make your wait that little bit more comfortable? We have hot towels ready if you'd like to soothe your scales."

Sasha sighed as if the weight of the world was on her shoulders, clicking her claws together.

"No... No, that's quite alright. We shall make do, as long as it is not so very long."

Fyr heaved a groan that was only mostly muffled by the padding of the table and zoned out as the attending staff member went back and forth with her mother a few times, if only to clarify that no, there was definitely nothing, nothing at all, she could do for them.

The canine made good her escape and Sasha cried out shrilly as she went, the pitch actually making Fyr want to press her paws over her ears.

"Toodles!"

Oh my god...

Turning away so sharply that her tail rattled into the table leg, Fyr didn't see her mother swivel to face her, a slow smile spreading across her muzzle. The door closed, leaving them alone with the soothing music, which suddenly seemed to be on repeat.

"Well, if he's not going to be coming for a while..."

Fyr didn't catch the meaning behind her mother's words, huffing as she planted herself face-down on the table, muzzle protruding through the hole as neatly as it should always have been. The table beside her creaked as her mother slipped off it and, out of sight, Fyr rolled her eyes, delighting in the taste of rebellion, even if it was a quiet one.

"This was supposed to be relaxing, wasn't it?" She pressed on, giving another loud sigh, just for good measure. "What is this then? There's nothing happening, just you and me in a small room waiting on a massage that I'm really not convinced is going to be all that good anyway!"

"Oh, I can give you a lovely massage while we wait, honey..."

Fyr didn't like the tone in her mother's voice one bit, but, before she could push herself up from the table, a dragoness' familiar weight settled across her back. Snarling at herself, Fyr struggled, but her mother held her arms down around her head, not allowing her to get the leverage behind her paws that she needed to throw her off. Wickedly, Sasha laughed and shook her head, claws digging lightly into her daughter's shoulder blades.

"Relax, sugar," she purred. "This is gonna feel real good."

And, perhaps at first, it did. As the dragoness' frustrated struggles ceased, subjecting herself to her fate with the hammering of her heart, her mother's fingertips began to dance. When she was sure her daughter was not going to hurl her off into the sideboard of flickering candles and the CD-player, which was still rolling out soothing music, she pulled the robe down from Fyr's shoulders. It pinned her arms down by her sides as she tugged, yanking them out of her comfortable resting place, but Fyr only whimpered, cheeks burning and heart in her mouth. What if the spa staff walked in? And just what was her mother planning after all?

Her scales warmed to her mother's touch and she shivered even though she was not actually cold. Trapped as she was, there was nothing she could do besides allow her mother to manipulate her scales and muscles, pulling the top layer over the muscles in such a delightful way that it was all she could do not to moan loudly, clinging to the table for some sense of solidity while she was massaged. Heavens -- why her mother had insisted on her going to see a masseuse when she was so talented with her fingers was a mystery indeed!

It perhaps was not a substitute for the massage that was to come, if she was to assume it would be better still from a professional, but Sasha's talented fingers had her daughter melting into the table. Letting out a soft, low groan, Fyr let her arms hang over the sides of the table, fingertips stretching down towards the floor. Sasha giggled and then, suddenly, the weight on her back relented.

"If you're enjoying this so much, darling, perhaps you should repay me in turn..."

Nodding dreamily into the table, Fyr groaned as her mother rose, swinging her leg over her backside to land back on the floor. With the warmth of her body gone, Fyr trembled, wanting more and yet wanting to be elsewhere -- anywhere else at all -- at exactly the same time. The feelings collided with one another in a delicious way that left her confused, heartbeat fluttering and, above all, yearning.

A finger and thumb pinched around her ear-fin, the frill sensitive to touch, and she squealed as her head was lifted. The robe covering her mother's scales abruptly fell back and then all her vision was blue, scales glistening with all manner of oils that perhaps, at one point, she'd gifted to her daughter with the highest recommendation. Fyr had barely a chance to admire their gleaming health before her mother's legs spread apart and her muzzle was shoved between them.

Gasping against the dragoness' crotch, Fyr found herself, if fleetingly, wishing for the massage. She groaned, though there was no longer any pleasure ringing through her tone. Just what had she gotten herself into yet again?

Her mother laughed softly, a loud sigh escaping her lips in a breathy exhale as she gyrated her hips, using Fyr's nose and lips as stimulation for her clit, which throbbed as it swelled with blood.

"Time to see if you can give me a little tongue massage of your own, sugar," her mother crooned. "You've had a taste of what I can give... But I've been working so hard, darling, I deserve this attention from you. You need to wait for your fun."

"Mom!"

Fyr grunted into her mother's pussy, any protests that she may have had dying on her lips as they were put to a better use. Her mother's bare pussy welcomed her tongue in and, submitting too easily, she moaned and dug her tongue in deep, hunting out the other dragon's arousal and that sweet spot tucked far up in her cunny that made her tremble so wonderfully. After all, she was still her mother's daughter and she wanted to make her happy, even if her muscles ached for that sweet, kneading touch once again.

But her mother had said she could have her fun too, hadn't she? Emboldened by the thought that some kind of pleasure -- in one way or another -- was still yet to come, she licked with renewed vigour, scooping her tongue through her mother's softly scaled pussy lips to the nub of her clit. The flexible appendage curled around it, tugging it out lightly from the very top of her folds, and squeezed in to a chorus of breathy moans.