The real Mother Goose

Mother lifted her layers, exposing herself in the sunlight, and Violet sighed in delight, leaning in toward her. The petals around the iris’ face seemed to undulate against Mother’s belly and hips, softer than anything she’d ever felt. When a sweet, wet tongue probed its way between her lips, she moaned, feeling the soft prickle of the flower’s stalks moving around her legs.

The iris was much stronger than Mother would have imagined, pulling her in tightly and nuzzling her flesh with fervor. It truly felt as if the flower were feeding off of her, sucking and lapping at her slit, looking for more of her juices. Mother was happy to comply as the little tongue focused right against her clit, moving expertly over that spot again and again, as if the iris knew exactly what to do to make her pussy flow.

Mother looked over at Mary, moaning and writhing now in the grip of the dark blue iris, bucking her hips. The green of the stalks had moved underneath Mary’s dress and she saw them working over her breasts and nipples. Mother wished she had worn something less confining, but she cupped and rubbed her breasts through her blouse, moving against the incredible softness of Violet’s petals.

Mother heard Mary coming and glanced over, seeing her body shaking, quivering against the little flower’s face. Mother wasn’t going to be far behind-she felt her own orgasm approaching, and the violet beauty between her legs seemed to know it, flicking her tongue faster against Mother’s clit.

“Oh god!” Mother cried, her climax overtaking her. As she came, she felt the flower’s tongue snake deep inside of her, drinking her juices with a hungry mewling sound. Even when Mother had collapsed onto her back on the ground, the flower’s head stayed bent and bound to her pussy, the tongue buried deep inside, the petals undulating against her flesh.

A flushed Mary came over to help Mother stand, nudging the flower gently back.

Violet’s face was glistening with Mother’s juices, her eyes glazed. She looked as sated as Mother felt.

“My goodness, Mary,” Mother murmured, reaching out to touch the face of the flower who had brought her such pleasure. The little tongue lapped at her, lazy now, but loving. “So many pretty maids, all in a row.”

“Next year, perhaps you’ll take some seedlings of your own.” Mary linked her arm with Mother’s as they walked back up the cobblestone path. Mother’s legs felt wobbly, and she was glad for the other woman’s support. She noticed Blue was gone from the lawn.

“Perhaps,” Mother murmured, looking back over her shoulder at the garden.

“Although I think I will have my hands full for a while with those kittens.”

“Yes,” Mary agreed. “Now, about payment. Perhaps we can work something out.

Peep is quite something.”

“Isn’t she just?” Mother smiled, squeezing Mary’s hand. “Yes, I think you can have my little pet for these adorable kittens. It’s a fair trade.” Mother saw Blue in the kitchen, talking to Polly. “Besides, we have a visitor coming just this week. A little Miss Muffet. Between her and the kittens, I don’t know that I’d have time for poor little Peep.”

“That works out then,” Mary said happily, climbing the stairs and opening the back door.

“I don’t know why they call you contrary, Mary,” Mother whispered, kissing the woman on the cheek as she stepped up.

Mary turned her face toward Mother and returned her kiss, fully and deeply, on the lips. “It’s just the men,” Mary whispered. “Most don’t understand the ways of flowers.”

“Is that so?” Mother’s mouth curled into a smile.

“You will come back and visit me soon, won’t you, dearest?” Mary whispered, tracing a finger along Mother’s full lips.

Mother leaned in to kiss her again, and she thought Mary tasted just like a garden of flowers. “Yes, darling. I surely will.”

The two women continued into the house, arm in arm.

Chapter Four

The Queen of Hearts

The Queen of Hearts

She made some tarts

All on a summer's day…

“Willie, where is my red corset?” Mother called loudly, sweeping aside the clothes in her wardrobe as she began going through them again, one at a time.

“Is this it, Mother?” Muffy picked up a corset from a pile on the bed.

“Ah, there is it!” The nude woman made her way over to the young girl, slipping her fingers under her chin and petting her there with a smile. “Thank you, dearest.”

“Willie!” Mother called again, impatient, slipping into the corset and looking into the mirror as she adjusted it over her curves. “Where is he?”

“I can lace you, Mother,” Muffy offered, sliding off the big bed, her pink babydoll nightgown slipping up her thighs and revealing the newly shaved mound underneath.

Mother’s eyes lingered there for a moment and she smiled, turning and offering her back to the girl. “Thank you, darling.”