It truly was a moment of the ages. The foursome of femininity represented a quite incredible procession as it stepped out poolside at the Bellagio, Las Vegas. Two of the females were utterly striking women in their early 40s, both exquisitely beautiful and both blessed with that added attraction which is attached to the knowing gorgeousness of feminine maturity. Despite their years, they each had figures that any woman would kill for, and their desirability was only enhanced by their age.
The first, Patricia, was a stern beauty of spilling red hair and lustrous skin that was shaped into sweeping curves. She had the full effect of her body displayed magnificently in the expensive black scrap of a micro-bikini which was wrapped round her crotch and swollen chest. Up top, her orbs were barely hidden, and they moved with a bountifully heavy, symmetrical bob as she walked. Whilst none of the females could be called wallflowers from a long first glance at them all, the stately redhead was at the front of the pack and as obvious as her comeliness was the aura of authority she clearly had. Head held up and proud, her high heeled step with the roll of her flared hips was so pronouncedly sexy, and she was both completely conscious and exhibitionist in an effortless way. This woman challenged all things and people with her mere look, and seemingly mastered them too. Embellishing her never-to-be-trifled-with strut were patent leather pumps in gleaming glacial white, a pair of tower heels which made her shown-off thighs look utterly delicious. The way she stepped was as if she typically walked over everything in her path. If any woman's looks and demeanor ever demanded attention, this was She...
Following Patricia was another middle-aged siren, tousled chestnut tresses falling just beyond her shoulders of smooth white tanned-caramel skin. Glittering through her hair were the most ostentatious hooped earrings, a set of vast and delicately thin circles sprouting from her lobes. These hoops were not the only decorations she wore there, and the large rings were actually positioned at the bottom of a gleaming row of multiple diamond studs that further beautified her whole ears.
Somewhat shorter than the Trish-woman in front of her, the second vixen compensated for that with sizable, tottering platform soles on her own shining black closed-toe pumps. The platform blocks had the effect of elevating the shoes wonderfully, giving them the most divine arches and jagged spikes. From out of the midnight-sexy objects of Zanotti glamor gracing the woman's feet grew her pin-thin model legs, and as they stretched up, the crown at their top was her equally designer pelvis that jutted out sharply above her tiny gold bikini bottoms. Round the back, plastered over her all-tanned tailbone and stretching luxuriously way out to her sides as well as a little way up her lower back was a broad, wide tattoo. The design was a thick floral bouquet of exquisitely detailed pink, orange and yellow magnolia flowers, and their trailing creepers, and it spread out from her spine like the most gorgeous growth of inked foliage.
This was Andrea, and despite the fact she was a naturally slight woman, the skinniness of her figure was still eye-catching. Her appearance was a mix of utterly fat-banished build, gorgeous toning, taut skin and even the slightest hint of hard bone where her skinniness stretched over her ribs and pelvis. If anything, there was more than a hint of a supermodel body-obsession that had possibly gone a touch too far. Only a touch, mind.
With her ironing board tummy bared and her ribcage on show, there was something slightly unnatural about Andrea's body, but it seemed to absolutely suit her, and make her quite captivating. Once any onlooker had wrapped their head around the possibility, they would have realized that incredibly, Andrea must have had a couple of ribs surgically removed. Too angular to be called hourglass like Trish, the effect of the extreme reshaping gave her a gorgeously extreme waistline of just 22 inches.
Sweeping upwards from her pubic region, her ardently preserved stomach was flanked by razor-killer hips and then topped by what Andrea proudly called her "store-bought" boobs, ones that she had blessed with not by birth, but by the dollar. The gold clasp on her top truly showed their full swell off, pulling the mounds together, presenting all their arrogant C cup shape which was stuck on her tight body. As she had specified when having them done, they sat high, and were perfectly rounded in shape, as well as feeling exquisitely full-pumped if one was ever lucky enough to savor them by touch. In short, they looked like gorgeous, artificial decorations placed on her cruel body. Andrea, much to Trish's delight, with her tucked in tummy, extreme rib work and unashamedly faux breasts was an advert for a hopelessly unattainable body beautiful.
The relationship between this pair of women was incredible. A sublimely domme goddess, Trish had found Drea as the perfectly willing uber-slut for her whole range of wishes and needs. Trish was a demanding mistress, and she had discovered her ultimate bitch when she had claimed a woman who was not only empowered with the boldest, most decadently filthy libido imaginable, but one who was also eager to only take herself somehow further and deeper. Trish and Drea's love and adoration, built as it was on this foundation, was bottomless, scr****g way beyond the depths of the gutter. Furthermore, their mutual desire for some kind of forbidden framework to outline their relationship meant that over their years as lesbian lovers together, Trish and Drea had quite devotedly come to also regard each other as "s****rs", to magnify their feelings for one another and their closeness.
As siblings was the context in which they always fucked each other's brains out therefore, and how they indulged in the most wanton sexual fantasies together. They lived in, existed in, sin, loving and lying together, as warped s****rs so needy for each other. They had decided that the unique brand of their matching sensitivities could only be explained by the influence of matching genes.
Given their utter synergy in kink in fact, it had occurred to them many times that they might actually be genuine long lost siblings, or at least s****rs in a previous existence. Dreaming of it together, they even took the action one day of visiting an old psychic woman. It was more than they could have dreamed of, but was as much as they knew too, when the gypsy seer told them she was sure she could feel a bond between them. How erotic it had been when the old woman went on to claim that the "evidence" from the spirit world was that they had indeed been from the same mother, when the pair of them had both been priestesses in the court of one of the Pharaohs...
The depraved route for them growing linked in this way had begun when Drea had become what Trish called her "intimate tongue of choice". They had met and become lovers first, a natural state of grace which evolved into them deciding that somehow long lost s****rs was a more fitting union. The girls considered their active choice to be s****rs to one another was infinitely more bonding than the mere fate of actual bl**d relative status. They had chosen to become so joined because of their love and desire for one another. Trish had often cradled her sub-lover and whispered that there was not another woman in existence whose wicked inclinations meshed with her's the same, and hearing that always made her Drea glow. For Drea, the discovery that she had an adequately evil, and deliciously cruel, s****r of such beauty thrilled her to infinity.
And so it was the vivid and absolute connection of their depravities, their richly perverted imaginations, their perfect taste, and their vixen/whore relationship which glued them. Blaspheming their lust further, s****rs became wives too. When Trish and Drea had finally wed, it was with no blessing of any state or church, instead, their pledges to one another were vows they had devised themselves, to adequately characterize their love for one another. The ceremony had been very brief, and of course intimate with only a few friends and former or part-time lovers. The decadences of the reception afterwards, and then the incredible honeymoon, however, went on a good while longer.
The two of them, Patricia and Andrea, Trish and Drea, were a truly head-turning pairing. And yet the still bigger shock that their group caused was made by the other two in their group, a duo of teen girls...
These ones each defined "nubile", all forbidden flesh and figure. The most striking of the girls was another redhead, a tiny creature, barely over 5 feet. It was hard to tell if she was a natural shade of red hair, or whether it was dyed, and the color seemed to deliberately blend sexy and edgy. She had it styled straight in a highly modish bob cut, the sloping asymmetric line of the bangs as razor sharp as Andrea's underfed hips. It was a very adult style on such a young thing, and looked wonderful.
Aside from her hair, the color of her eyes was striking too. Whether it was the effect of contact lenses or not, her eyes were almost an aquamarine blue. The girl's ultra-vivid appearance was only added to by the to-die-for cute sapphire that twinkled away in her upper cheek bone, the sexy implant of an anti-eyebrow piercing, a gorgeous, fetish jewel beauty spot embedded into her porcelain pretty face. The red hair could not actually be any more fitting because Chanel, as this nymph was named, was the apple of her mother's eye. And the shocking fact was that her mother happened to be Trish.
As for the other girl, Destinee, it was impossible not to be reminded of Taylor Momsen. She showed off such a brazenly languid teen figure and her hair was long and tress-twirled, in a color that could only have to be regularly and expensively saloned to be such a richly dirty blonde. Even her expression was reminiscent of the famous pop princess, with a classically perma-bored teen glare. With a full half dozen very pretty diamond studs twinkling in her ear in the bright sun, Destinee out-did Drea with crystal-fabulous piercings. Those weren't her only obvious piercings, however, as she also had a sparkling diamond planted below the middle of her bottom lip, and a delicately tiny one twinkling in her nostril. The keen eye that sc****d over her body would also see the vertically arranged pair of silver dermal studs that were also anchored in the shapely, stretched skin of her elfin hips. This teen also wore some strikingly sexy decorative ink. Six baby-little stars were inked in a curved sweep that trailed round the outer side of her left eye socket. The largest hollow star was imprinted on her upper cheek and the tiniest one was at the top near her brow.
This "f****y" of women became so very complete when it was considered that the gorgeous Destinee was Drea's beautiful daughter.
While the nature of the older womens' sunbathing attire was utterly suggestive, it remained evidently designer, and was at least grounded in divine couture. By comparison, the matching pieces that the teens both wore was pure scandal, fashion that was only intended to flaunt their young bodies in an extremely adult way. Their pussy regions were "covered" by an almost post-it size piece of fabric, which only just hid their lips and mounds, but left everything else entirely exposed. There was no waistband, and their brief crotch modesty was kept in place by thin gold chains which were strategically fixed to their bikini tops. At the front, two chains were tight on their tummies and held up their quim patches, while a single one at the rear suspended the thong slices that sawed deep in their ass cracks, exposing both perfectly-formed buttocks, with the hard-working chain stretched taut and almost parallel with their spines. The tops were further nothings of crepe silk and more of the thin golden chain. Only the colors differed between the two, the little redhead was in a tropical ocean turquoise and rich cerise graced the trashy blonde.
They were a pair of young, highly explicit mannequins on which the most outrageous posing and exposing wear was gorgeously stretched, their bodies and delights shown off in a breath-taking exhibition of youthful flesh. Had any awed onlooker been asked to guess the girls' age, they would have been correct had they said 18. For so young, Chanel and Destinee evidently showed zero embarrassment as they sashayed in their catwalk chic skyscr****g gladiator heels - and besides, why would they have any shame? It was not how they had been brought up.
Their tummies were the tiniest, most demurely toned swells imaginable (both pretty navels pierced with de rigeur dangling silver pendants) but the stand-out features were both girls' breasts. It was stunning that each girl had her sweetly killer 18 year old body adorned by the kind of D cup globes that were made for nothing else but careers in Playboy, pole dancing, or porn starlethood. The proportions they both boasted were magnificent, as subtle as a stiletto kick to the face. The most perfect and gloriously suspended domes swelled from their chests, projecting outward, likes halves of a watermelon that were stuck on their snug bodies. The extravagantly delicious reality was that for such a tender age, these girls' tits were impossible. Instead, they were very apparently, and quite beautifully, unabashedly man-made. God, but they were SUCH evident examples of silicone perfection. Lewdly sized to be much bigger than the older 'Aunt' Andrea's own augmented beauties, both Chanel and Destinee were inflated to the same size as the very pronounced Ms. Trish.
The story behind the girl's drastically beautiful breast enhancement was a wonderful insight into their lives as well as Trisha and Drea's wicked ideals, hopes and plans for their daughters. Earlier that year, the scheming adults had carefully arranged appointments so that just one day after Destinee's 18th birthday, (she being younger than Chanel by only three days) Trisha and Drea had checked the girls whom they had such sky-high designs for into an uber-exclusive Beverly Hills clinic. In there, the two teen princesses had instantly gone under the knife of one of the West Coast's elite plastic surgeons, a craftsman and sculptor of some of the world's most glorious artificial tits, a doctor whose initial ethical concerns on sculpting the teens had been melted away by the vast fee Trish and Drea offered. They had come off the anesthetic and emerged from the clinic as a pair of young goddesses.
While Chanel and Destinee were already no stranger to cosmetic procedures, each having received miscellaneous touch-up work including on their noses (the results of which made the Barbie figurine herself look grotesque in comparison), their breast surgeries had been a landmark, their debutante coming out to society. The exquisite flawlessness of silicone had truly entered their lives, lives which their mothers ensured were to be a dazzling headlong pursuit of hyper sexuality for their young girls. The prospect of a whole lifetime ahead with an unlimited number of cosmetic improvements, some minor, some major, now truly stretched before the lucky teen angels.
As well as their noses already becoming scalpeled to flawlessness, Destinee and Chanel had even had a little more severe attention to reshape and sharpen their cheekbones, as well as a start of collagen procedures to make their lips just suitably VERY grown up. The sooner their daughters had had the work done Trish and Drea had reasoned, the longer they would have to flaunt their ever cosmetically-improving perfection, and the more enjoyment these deserving mothers could take.
The most wanton feature of the boob jobs for their precious daughters was grounded in the obscene intervention that those drastic procedures had represented. Trish and Drea fully intended to break in on nature's blossoming of their daughters' orbs. Throughout all the extensive planning and consultations, Trisha and Andrea adored the concept that they were cheating Mother Nature with a greedy acceleration, driven by their desire to surpass the fabulousness that nature already had in store for their two sweethearts. All the time through the process they were driven on by aesthetic ideals stemming purely from the theme of porn. This was their crooked motivation, and yet, as they asked, could better gifts for their beloved princesses really be imagined?
Other than the sheer physical augmentation, Trisha and Drea had specifically tasked the surgeon with a brief to make the two new sets as identical as possible on their girls, giving Chanel and Destinee's new fattened puppies exactly the same form, size, and weight.
The doctor had succeeded amazingly. In a ceremony one night after the healing time had finally passed, Trisha had been placed in a chair, and Drea had slowly wrapped a 6 foot length of black filigree lace round her lover's eyes, gently taking away her sight with a sexy barrier of the delicate material. In turn, Trish was then charged to tell apart the gratuitously improved girls when they were presented to her, using only her fingertips to do so. Trish gasped in delight when she touched their identical perfection, and when she truly couldn't separate them, she was then allowed to cup and gently squeeze her daughters' brand new titty mounds. Even with that contact, and the deep, softly yielding feel of their perfect weight, still Trisha couldn't distinguish the two sets of new goods. Not even when she fully extended her wickedly long and skillful tongue and explored their nubbins too. She only picked who she was handling when her frustration got her and she savagely pinched one arrogantly proud nipple in her razor manicure, the low moan of pleasure that caused gave away her own daughter...
As Trisha and Andrea were their own warped, loving pairing, 'fittingly' their daughters were only amazing extensions of their depraved relationship. But more than that, the daughters were inevitably a loving unit themselves. When T&A had wed, their daughters were their blessings at the ceremony and had inevitably acted as the most gorgeous bridesmaids. To Trish and Drea, every particle of faith in the whole universe held that their girls would take the same deliciously twisted route that they had taken together. And of course it was their duty to assist their daughters, every platformed whore-spike or Louboutin crafted step of the way.
In many ways, their daughters represented their most adorable projects. The aim was to give them every single decadence imaginable, to give their sweet babies every delight, turning them into unique, exaggerated and dazzling specimens of pleasure, desire and sin. Every man on the planet was to want them, even the fiercest most beautiful fags to be intrigued by them. Any pussies were to melt and nipples to ache for them too. Money was no object in this beautiful crusade, cruel plans, extreme schemes and total limit-pushing were everything in the quest. The depths of imagination or inspiration and irrefutable medical rules appeared the only boundaries.
Having completed their entrance, all four of them had very gracefully slid into a group of closely-placed poolside loungers. The furniture was intimately positioned so that when they were settled, Trish and Drea could turn and lean in to one another just a little before their mouths locked together wide open as they had done so a million times before. One pair of sublime glossed lips bonded succulently with another and tongues glided out to mate wetly and raunchily. One hand drifted lazily out too, quite lewdly squeezing bikini'd breast flesh, causing a moan to swirl into their deep kiss. Each pair of eyes became lost in the other, admiring the depth of allure in the mirroring gaze, before they dreamily false-lash fluttered closed. All the while their filthy lust washed back and forth between them in the kiss, like the tide of a sweetly polluted ocean.