Marta

Martha stood in the middle of the room, leaning forward and resting one hand on the wardrobe, smiling contentedly. Her large eyes were filled with maternal satisfaction, despite what she was doing at the moment—her skirt was pulled up to her waist, revealing her rather plump (despite her age) ass and soft thighs. Her white stockings barely reached the place between her legs where a cock was thrusting into her unshaven pussy. The feeling of gentle hands on her stomach and buttocks completed the picture of debauchery: an older woman was giving her body to be ravaged.

Her voice sounded cheerful and clear: "Yes, that's right, don't be shy!" The sensation of a young body behind her only fueled her sexuality, which had been suppressed over years of service, which had grown into maternal care, and now into the pleasure of being able to teach her protégé something. "Come on, baby, don't be afraid, show me what you can do!" Her encouraging words were accompanied by a gentle smile.

Martha sighed with relief mixed with a touch of coquetry, feeling as if her heart was about to leap out of her chest, but she quickly suppressed this thrill, remembering her dignity. She impatiently adjusted her apron, which could get wrinkled even during such simple work, and, walking slightly on tiptoe, headed along the shady alley to the place where the same ringing laughter that broke the silence of the old trees was coming from. The woman was sincerely convinced that no childish prank deserved real punishment, because every action of hers was just an attempt to learn about the world, and her, Martha's, task was to be there to back her up if suddenly the "sunshine" fell off the roof or got her dress dirty. The thought that the young lady might run away from her, even for a moment, made her feel slightly dizzy, but she pushed it away, focusing on her desire to hug the amazing, wayward creature she called her daughter as soon as possible.

As she got closer, Martha's gaze narrowed sharply, focusing on the group of maids surrounding Luna like butterflies around a flower. Instead of reproach, her face blossomed with genuine maternal pride in the girl's energy, who knew how to quickly win the attention of those around her, but the woman could not allow herself to relax completely — she had to keep order. "Oh, my little robber, you're so hot with desire... All right, calm down, don't push the poor thing so much, let her catch her breath." ![] (https://i.ibb.co/tMVDtSYV/futanari-sama-hair-bun-maid-short-hair-maid-and-grey-hair-maid-original-drawn-by-mdf-an-ce3514682.jpg)

Martha's hands, which had just been protecting the delicate flower buds, now gently and possessively enveloped the lush breasts that had been freed from their undergarments. She sighed with relief and satisfaction, allowing her huge, heavy seventh-size breasts to settle freely, but quickly pressed them against Luna's body, creating a warm, soft cleft around what so playfully and insistently demanded attention. "Oh, my little lady," she whispered, leaning down to kiss the girl's damp temple, "you're as impatient as a sunbeam in a snowstorm. Wait, my dear, let old Martha warm you up properly, look how you're already trembling with impatience." Her movements were slow, honed by years of care: at first she simply pressed the softness of her body against the trunk, allowing the warmth to transfer, and then began to make rhythmic, wave-like movements, lubricating the skin with fragrant drops of sweat that stood out from the tension and lustful desire to please.

"Don't push so hard, my little bird," Martha remarked gently, but with a hint of authority in her voice, feeling the pulse of life beneath her skin, "let me catch my breath, or I'll think you want to suffocate the poor old woman with your charms." She slightly changed the angle of inclination to better feel every millimeter, her huge breasts swaying in time, resembling two large overripe pears, but holding firmly, like two pillows embracing a phallus.

Her large, warm hands gently enveloped Luna's slender waist as the girl entered the kitchen with an expression of frenzied desire on her face. Her nightgown, wet with night sweat and something else, clung to her body like a second skin, and beneath the transparent fabric, the tense member of her futanari was clearly visible. "Oh, my little troublemaker," Martha's voice rang out like warm honey on the edge of a crystal cup, "you can't find peace again? All right, all right..." She lifted her easily off the floor — always amazed at her own strength — and laid her on the kitchen table as gently as if she were folding a parchment sheet of a medieval manuscript.

Bending over the table so that the buttons on her dress threatened to fly off from the tension of her large breasts, Martha began to give this little god of flesh the attention he craved. Her lips were like skilled musicians playing the most delicate instrument: they barely touched the throbbing tip of his penis, licking the fluid that had appeared at the tip. Her mother's fingers (because who else but a mother could do this?) gently stroked his thighs, moving rhythmically up and down, saying without words: "It's okay, baby, it's okay."

Martha didn't flinch, even when the cool air of the kitchen touched her bare thighs and hairy pussy; she perceived this familiar ritual as yet another manifestation of her beloved's inexhaustible energy, and her face instantly lit up with that same sincere, warm smile, full of boundless tenderness. Without looking back and without stopping holding the plate with her hands, she spoke gently, as if embracing the girl with her gaze, addressing the invisible whim behind her back: "Oh, my little sunshine, do you really want to explore Grandma's charms again? You're so impatient, my child, but shouldn't you help me with this pie first?" She slightly bent her hips, as if inviting her to continue playing, completely ignoring the fact that the satisfied, purring sniffles of the young rascal could already be heard from under her skirt.

Pausing for a moment, Martha sighed with a slight, barely noticeable happiness, realizing that Luna had found herself a new entertainment among the kitchen utensils and her own body, and this was the best confirmation for her that the girl was developing healthily and innocently. "You're my clever girl, you know where to find pleasure, don't you?" she continued, picking up the dough again, allowing the girl to do whatever she wanted, because for Martha, there was nothing better than seeing her ward boldly explore the world, even if that world was currently limited to the kitchen and her skirt.

"Honey, hurry up, you'll be late for school." She said gently, feeling the thrusts in her vagina. Her large eyes rested on the other maid, who was waiting calmly with the school uniform in her hands. Martha lay on her stomach, relaxed and trusting, feeling a warm wave of pleasure spread through her body with each rhythmic thrust of her daughter. She accepted this antics with maternal patience, watching through half-closed eyelids as the other maid nervously fiddled with the folds of her school uniform, waiting for a sign. "Oh, my darling, you're so impatient, like a real stallion," she moaned softly, slightly leaning into the deeper thrusts that echoed loudly in the silence of the shaded room. Her voice was soft as velvet, completely ignoring the lustful sounds of the girl who loved her from behind.

She threw her head back, feeling the tension reach a critical point, but her attention was already fixed on the poor maid, who was clutching her white blouse tightly. "Why are you standing there, child? Come here, untie our dress, or my young lady will break free from her chains, and we will all have no peace," said Martha with a light laugh that overflowed with pleasure. She waved her hand toward the maid, inviting her to participate in this morning ritual, completely ignoring how her own body trembled under the impatient hands of her ward.

The woman leaned over her pupil, her huge, warm body feeling like a reliable roof protecting her from the whole world. She perceived this disorder not as ordinary debauchery, but as an innocent game, a natural impulse of her inquisitive girl, and therefore there was not a shadow of condemnation on her face, only deep, maternal tenderness. When Martha felt the other maid's fingertips trembling nervously as she traced the contours of Luna's hips, she gently patted her on the shoulder, as if calming a frightened animal, and said quietly, "You're a good girl, keep doing it gently, don't be afraid, she's like glass, so delicate." Her voice echoed in unison with Luna's moans, creating a strange symphony of wet sounds and gentle approval.

Meanwhile, her own hands, the same ones that had just been working in the soil, now caressed the girl's hair on her thighs, guiding her movements with no less care than she had once guided her first steps. "Oh, look how excited you are, my little sunshine," Martha whispered, leaning slightly to better feel every movement of the other servant, "The main thing is, don't rush, let her enjoy every moment." She took this scene in with complete naturalness, considering it merely a continuation of her upbringing: after all, one has to learn sometime, and she, like a caring mother, was there to ensure that her daughter got the best out of life, even if that "best" was now between another girl's legs.

Martha knelt on the rug covering the cold tile floor, hugging Luna from behind as if she were hugging her own daughter. The woman's large breasts pressed against the slender body, and the hair on her pubic area barely touched her ward's buttocks. Her hands, strong and caring, slid a washcloth dipped in warm, fragrant water with a hint of lavender over the delicate skin of the futanari girl. She washed her belly with particular tenderness, her breasts rubbing against Luna's back, feeling her relax under her touch, sometimes pressing lightly against her. "Oh, how smooth you are, my sunshine," Martha said gently, lightly patting the girl on her firm buttocks, "you're so wet and hot. Don't be naughty, let Alice get in front, or we'll be late." She looked up at the girl standing opposite and nodded, indicating that the place was free for work.

The woman stroked the girl's member with her other hand and, without stopping her gentle caresses, slid her hand lower, cupping Luna's thighs with her palm to better secure her position. Moist skin slid under her fingers, and warm water from the washcloth dripped down her knees. "Good girl," she whispered in her ear, feeling her ward's back relax and, surrendered to the flow of pleasant sensations, involuntarily press back, seeking more contact. From behind, Martha watched as Alice, like a shadow, emotionlessly and thoroughly washed the front of Luna's body, concentrating on every curve. Martha felt the girl's body shudder at the touch of the washcloth on her penis, and immediately ran her hand gently over her thighs, as if to calm and encourage her. "You know, we have to wash everything thoroughly so that our princess is clean and fresh," she added, her gaze full of boundless love meeting that of the maid, who was waiting for the right moment to continue her work. The air was filled with the scent of lavender and steam, and the only sound was the gentle splashing of water and Luna's muffled, satisfied moans echoing off the bathroom walls.

The soft haze of midday enveloped the bedroom, seeping through the heavy curtains and settling in warm strands on the sheets. Martha lay on the bed, her arms spread out, completely naked; her body, accustomed to hard work, now exuded an amazing relaxation, and her skin seemed velvety under the rays of light. Her slightly rounded belly, which could no longer be hidden under her apron, was the only sign of the changes taking place inside — a silent reminder of how the hot impulse of her young mistress had left a part of herself there. Martha stared at the ceiling with the same gentle, almost meditative expression with which she had once planted flowers; her breasts, slightly heavy and swollen, rose and fell with her rhythmic breathing, and her wide hips settled comfortably into the hollows of the bed. The sensation of her own weight, warmth, and the pressure inside was a natural continuation of her service—she accepted the new shape of her body with the same obedience with which she had once accepted the whims of her mistress. The love that has settled in me has made me even more vulnerable, flashed through her mind, but instantly melted away, giving way to a physical feeling of fullness that enveloped her entire being.

Hearing quiet footsteps at the door, Martha did not rush to cover herself; on the contrary, she smiled gently, her gaze full of tenderness resting on the girl. She did not need words to understand the desire she saw in Luna's passionate gaze — the same desire that had led her to this state. The woman silently lifted one leg up, opening herself to Luna's pleasure and delight. "Sweetheart, just not in my pussy. Our baby is growing there, we don't want to disturb it," the woman said tenderly, and one of her hands caressed her round belly, while the other held her leg high. Finally, I will be a real mother. We will have the best baby in the world