Catfights | Historical Fiction
Under Bens’ Hand Part 3
The rumors of Benjamin Franklin’s libido were true.
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A new smell met the nostrils of Sarah and Mary. A musk they had never smelt before. Their heads turned to see their mothers resting away from each other. By mutual consent, Sarah and Mary pushed apart. They crawled towards their respective mothers.
“Mama,” Sarah said, “Why on earth were you fighting Betsy?”
“Because she is sleeping with you, father,” Deborah said through inhales of breath. Sarah turned her head sharply at the two black women as she knelt next to the bed.
Mary looked in shock at her own mother, “Why were you sleeping with Mr. Franklin?” She asked as she helped her mother to a sitting position.
“Because,” Betsy said as she breathed heavily, “He is hung like a horse.”
Mary’s eyes went wide. Her mind went into a tizzy thinking about Mr. Franklin in a new light. Sarah though was livid. She rushed and launched herself at Betsy, taking them both back to the hard ground. Mary reached out to grab Sarah by the hair again, but her hands were intercepted by Deborah coming off the bed and down on top of her.
Sarah’s large breasts met Betsy’s in a SPLAT! Hands went to hair as they rolled to their sides as free hands went to grab breasts. The two women screamed out as short nails dug into the flesh; stretching and pulling the mounds into unnatural shapes. Legs locked together from ankle to thigh, wedging the two in place.
Mary was able to roll Deborah over and the younger woman grabbed both of the mature white woman’s breasts. Deborah howled in pain but latched her fingers onto the oversized nipples of the young black woman. Mary’s cries of anguish echoed in the small room. Then the door flung open.
There, in the open doorway, stood Benjamin Franklin, naked as the day he was born, having discarded his clothing on his way to the basement.
“What is the meaning of this?” He asked in a loud voice.
All four women pushed away from the other quickly. Deborah got to her knees, moving towards her husband.
“I think you know what we are doing and why we are doing it,” Deborah said as she eyes the swinging cock between her husband’s legs. “Do you need to confess anything?”
Ben saw his wife in a new light, she was bathed in sweat, her hair tangled, marks of battle on her heaving breasts, “Tricks and treachery are the practice of fools, that don’t have brains enough to be honest. As I have always said that honesty is the best policy, I should be honest with you. I have been in the midst of hedonistic liaisons with the beautiful Betsy Child.” He looked now to Betsy but then his eye caught the two other naked women in the room, one the daughter of his new lover and the other his own daughter. The cock twitched.
Deborah moved to her husband as he closed the door behind him. Her mouth went to his swaying member, her tongue licking the tip of his growing head. Then her tongue met another as Betsy had moved forward. The two women fought with their tongues as his bulbous head was in the middle. As his dick grew harder, moving up, the cock was grabbed by a black hand. Then a white hand grabbed the base. Both of the mothers saw this and moved their battling tongues and faces away from each other to glare at their offspring, who were gripping the hard cock.
“You let go of that this instant!” Deborah yelled at her busty daughter, Sarah.
“But it is so big,” Sarah said with glassy eyes.
“Release that cock, girl!” Betsy said loudly, turning towards her daughter, Mary.
“But I want it!” Mary said as her large breasts bobbled on her chest.
Benjamin felt four hands and looked down to see his large manhood groped and pulled. His eyes went wide as his knees got weak. He let out a guttural groan.
It was as if a lit match had struck dry tinder, as mothers and daughters came together in a meaty slap. Ben looked from left to right as two pairs of women, one set white and one set black, fought viciously.
Deborah and Sarah tumbled back and forth, pulling hair as their huge breasts crushed together. Legs twisted around like vines, keeping the pair locked from the top of their heads to the bottom of their feet. The two growled and locked open mouths over lips and bit down.
Betsy and her daughter Mary were locked in a similar battle. Their seat backsides scooted closer as legs wrapped round wide hips and breasts crushed. Fingers pulled mightily on hair as feet slapped down over their fleshy ass cheeks, bringing more of their conjoined bodies into the fray.
As Ben watched the two pairs of women locked so tightly, “I think I will call this a catball,” he said to himself.
The overheated room and constant fighting that had been going on had the two pairs of women slow in the tumultuous tussle. All of the occupants were bathed in sweat.
“Now, now ladies, please, let us all enjoy the fruits of this union! Not too quickly as you all know, haste makes waste.” He said as the four women now crawled seductively towards him.
April 1788
Sarah closed the currently unpublished Poor Richard’s Almanac as she turned towards her very elderly father. His breathing had gotten worse in the last few days.
“Father, why not let us move you to another position, so you may breathe easier?” Sarah asked.
“A dying man can do nothing easy,” 84-year-old Benjamin Franklin weakly said. His eyes closed in his last sleep.
Sarah walked to the kitchen, “He is with our mothers,” she said with tears in her eyes.
Mary came to her immediately to hug her. The two 45-year-old women held each other for a long time.
Later that night as Sarah prepared for bed, a knock came to her door. Mary entered holding a small lantern. Sarah smiled as she stood. Mary set the lantern on the small table.
“Shall we?” Mary asked as she pulled the nightgown over her head.
“As we always do,” Sarah replied as she too shed her nightgown. The two women resembled their late mothers so much. The voluptuous women embraced, grabbed hair, and fell to the bed to engage in something that had been occurring since they were 19 years old.
