When Lorelai Gilmore had mentioned to her Mom that she and Rory were planning to ‘fuck round Europe over the summer’ Emily had assumed that Lorelai had meant it metaphorically and had told her not to be so coarse. If she had known that her daughter and granddaughter had meant it literally her response would almost certainly been different– not that, as both Lorelai and Rory were over eighteen, she could have done much about it.

“Just put our names after the message,” said Rory as her Mom frowned at the postcard of a North Yorkshire moor. The teen sighed as her Mom nodded and then in complete disregard of what her daughter said, added eleven in brackets after Rory’s name and fifteen, again in brackets, after her own. Rory gave another sigh as her Mom slid the postcard and pen into her bag and got up off the café stool she was sitting on. Rory followed her as they headed outside, “How are you going to explain that to Grandma?”

“Explain what?” Lorelai Gilmore gave an expression of innocence, which given what the numbers meant, was as unfitting an expression as if Mick Jagger said ‘drugs and sex were bad’. She headed towards a red post-box as Rory followed behind her.

“You know what, missy,” Rory said, watching the card be popped into the letterbox, “the numbers.”

There was silence from Lorelai as she paused and looked thoughtful, before smiling, “I guess I’d have to just explain I was more attractive than you and got more fucks.”

“You are not telling Grandma about our competition,” said Rory, she looked genuinely appalled as she continued, “Anyway its not fair, when I went off with that Spanish builder I wasn’t to know that you were going to go off with both of his friends.”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t going to,” countered Lorelai.

“And those two hand-jobs I gave in the back of that coach in France… they should be counted as well,” added Rory.

Her Mom grinned, “Rory without rules it is anarchy. And the rules are that there must be fucking of the mouth, ass or pussy.”

“You could have told me before,” grumbled Rory as she turned and started to head back down the street, “I’d have blown them.”

“I did mention it,” Lorelai grinned, “You just weren’t listening. So what we going to do now? It’s getting late.”

The eighteen year-old shrugged and looked round the street of the small Northern English market town. It was even less busy than Stars Hollow in an evening and Rory hadn’t thought that was possible. The only sign of life was a geriatric street cleaner and he looked way too fragile to cope with two Gilmore’s on the prowl. Rory turned back to face her Mom, “We could head back to the Youth Hostel…”

“Boooorrrriiiinnngggg,” said Lorelai with as much emphasis as she could manage. She skipped over to a lamppost and holding it by one hand swung round, “Wheeeee!” she squeaked, before stopping and fixing Rory with a look, “We’re young, free and single we should be having fun, partying like there is no tomorrow. We head back to the Hostel, the only people there are the Hartlepool Christian Girls Association and I bet with a name like that we can’t even persuade them into some muff munching.”

“They did invite us to the lecture they were planning to give on the origins of the King James Bible — it may be more interesting than it sounds,” said Rory.

“Rory…. Booooorrrrriiiiinnnngggg,” said Lorelai, she hung her head to one side and opened her mouth either in an imitation of someone hanging themselves due to boredom or perhaps to show that she thought the HCCA were a bunch of imbeciles. Either way it was obvious that her interest in listening to them explain the political, religious and cultural significance of one of the great works of English Literature was low. After a few moments the Milf straightened up again, “Rory if we wanted a holiday with culture we could have packed Grandma and Grandpa and headed out to see the New York Metropolitan, followed by a hike to Washington to see the Jefferson Memorial. We didn’t, Rory, we didn’t want that. We wanted cock and lots of it.” She fell to her knees in front of her daughter, “Please, please, please, don’t make me listen to the turgid prose of a bunch of up-tight virgins who wouldn’t know fun if it came and stuffed its finger up their collective asses.”

Tutting Rory helped her Mom up, “Okay, I get the hint. No Bible readings… so what then?”

“Mhhmm,” Lorelai looked down the street, first left and then right. After a moments consideration she pointed right, “This way,” she said and set off at pace.

Rory had to do a quick jog to catch up with her, something the notoriously slothlike younger Gilmore was not used to. She got into pace beside her Mom, sliding her arm through Lorelai’s, partly as a show of daughterly affection, but mainly so she could slow her Mom’s walk to a less frantic speed. “So what’s down here then?”

“No idea,” said her Mom, “I just decided to follow the tingle in my pussy. It never leads me wrong.” The noise from Rory was swiftly converted from a disbelieving hum into a quick rendition of ‘Erase, Rewind’s’ opening chords as her Mom glared at her, “Don’t you believe me? My pussy has never led us astray yet — when it gets that feeling it’s like a compass pointing towards large dicks.”

“Sure Mom, I believe you,” with the weariness of someone who has to continually keep explaining to a grown woman that the tooth fairy was a myth. She gave a shrug, “I haven’t a better idea though, so this way’s as good as any other.”

Whether it was a result of Lorelai’s magical magnetic pussy or just luck after a few moments they came across a pub, ‘the Flying Fox’. Plastered on its wall was a poster, ‘Live Music’ and from inside came the unmistakable beat of ‘Teenage Dirtbag’ being played badly. The Gilmore Girls looked at each other and then down the street; it might not be Madison Square Garden, but there wasn’t a lot of choice. Lorelai turned to her daughter, “Give it a go?”

Without waiting for a reply she headed in; with a shrug of resignation Rory followed her.

To say the pub was in dire need of a refurnish was an understatement. The wallpaper was yellowing and stank of old nicotine smoke, peeling from the walls to reveal plaster cracked and even yellower. The seats were so ripped and torn, with the foam hanging out and sitting down was a game of dodge the sharp metal springs. The only thing that could be said was that at least they were less battered than the tables, where the torn and stained beer mats failed to hide the witty scratchings that Kilroy had once frequented the pub.

The few customers turned to look at the Gilmores as they entered, before deciding the Mom and daughter were less interesting than half-drunken beers and conversation about tomorrow’s 3.30 at Chepstow or whether Manchester United would beat Arsenal by one goal or three. Lorelai went to the bar and ordered two lagers; she had been in the UK long enough to realise that the idea that Brits liked all their beer luke-warm and flat was a myth — though unfortunately this fact hadn’t yet reached the Flying Fox’s landlord. She grimaced as she sipped one and past the other to her daughter. Rory pulled a similar face and headed over to the stage.

All the time the band had been continuing to play, oblivious to the lack of interest by the pub’s patrons. There were five of them, a vocalist, drummer, bassist and lead and rhythm guitars — and their lack of talent was obvious, but in the Gilmore’s eyes redeemed by the fact that there buff bodies were sweaty and sleek, muscles and tattoos visible beneath tight T-shirts. The band moved from murdering the Caesar’s ‘Jerk it Out’, only identifiable because the vocalist named it, to an equally brutal killing off Steppenwolf’s ‘Born to be Wild’. At least when they moved onto a piece of their own it was hard to tell whether they were playing it badly or whether it was meant to be a medley of Thrash Metal and Bubblegum Pop. Still the Gilmore’s gave a small cheer as in announcing it the vocalist dedicated it ‘to the pretty girls in the front row’ and as there was no-one else in any of the seats near the stage it was obvious he meant them.

After their attempt at their own composition the band quickly moved back to their comfort zone of slaying other, more talented, band’s works. The best of which it could be said was that least a couple were similar enough to the original that the Gilmore’s were able to guess what they were without the vocalist shouting it out.

Luckily neither of the Gilmore’s were listening to the music…

“If I have the vocalist, drummer and bass guitarist, you can have rhythm and lead…”

“Why can’t I take the bassist — that’d make more sense me getting all the guitar studs…”

“Because… look I love you dearly, but I don’t think you could handle all three…”

“You’re just being greedy… I so could.”

The two Gilmore’s continued their conversation through the gritted teeth of dazzling smiles aimed at the band. If the five band members realised they were being stalked by a cougar and her kitten they didn’t come out and say it, though their pelvic thrusts were suggestive. And the continual dedication of songs to good-time girls, sexy senoritas and beautiful babes, as well as mentions, in the vocalist’s patter, of fun with groupies also hinted that the band were not planning to set up a male equivalent of the Hartlepool Christian Girls Association.

With a last screaming riff the band’s set drew to a close. The vocalist bowed his head in a mock salute, “Good night, Flying Fox… keep on rocking.” There was polite applause from the barman, and he nudged some old boys propping up the bar to make them do the same. The Gilmores went further, both jumping up and screaming, waving their hands like banshees and twisting and bopping their heads like their necks were elastic. Lorelai murmured to Rory, “If I was wearing panties I’d have thrown them.”

Her daughter nodded, before quickly resuming her seat. Lorelai gave one more shriek and joined her. The vocalist gave them a look, frowning in bafflement at their sudden change in demeanour — from interest to ignoring. Secretly Lorelai and Rory were giggling inside, it was a ploy they found worked well when trying to trap a fucktoy; show interest before feigning boredom and then pounce once the target was confused and vulnerable. The vocalist gave a shrug and turned back to helping his bandmates pack up. They did so with the speed of a group practised at getting up and out before the venue owner demanded his money back or enraged music fans leapt up to revenge themselves for the horrors they had just sat through. So fast were they that Lorelai and Rory had to drain their beers or risk missing them.

Putting the glass down, Lorelai stood up, “Shall we see if the boys need any help in putting their gear into their van?”

“I’d rather help them get their gear into me,” grinned Rory, joining her Mom.

They nodded to the barman politely as they left by the door to the car park; he ignored them and continued to wipe listlessly at the bar. Outside it was a balmy August evening, the slight breeze acting like the perfect air-conditioner for the warm night creating the almost perfect temperature. The band’s van was in the corner of the car park next to the grass verge, it was almost out of the range of the lights fixed to the pub’s wall. In the gloom the five members could be seen loading their equipment into the back. Lorelai gave Rory a small nudge, “Let’s go and have some fun.” She gripped her top pulling it down so it clung even more tightly to her bosom, before striding towards the band. Rory grinned and did the same, following a pace behind her Mom.

“Hello boys, loved the set,” lied Lorelai as she approached.

“You’re American,” said the drummer.

Lorelai nodded, then twisted her head to indicate Rory who had caught up and was standing with her fingers in the pockets of her very tight hot-pants — they were so tight that she couldn’t do more than slide the tips of her fingers in. She smiled at the band members as her Mom continued “We’re on vacation; touring Europe”

“Cool,” said the bassist in what was probably supposed to be a ‘laid back surfer’ style and flicked a strand of his long blonde hair from his forehead.

“How you finding it?” said the rhythm guitarist. His eyes moved up and down the Gilmores, even in the gloom taking in that the two women were dressed provocatively in tight T-shirts and very, very tiny hotpants.

He smiled as Lorelai stepped further forward and slid her arm through his and the lead guitarist’s. She moved forward and behind the van, out of sight of the pub’s backdoor. Behind her Rory had taken the drummer and the bassist by the hand and had led round; the vocalist followed like a stray puppy. Lorelai slid her arms from the two band mates and in one fluid motion reached to the bottom of her T-shirt and pulled it over her head. She smiled, her white teeth glinting in the dark, but as she wasn’t wearing a bra it wasn’t her smile the boys from the band were looking at. The Milf smiled, “We’re finding it fun.”

“Very fun,” agreed Rory. She pulled off her top and dropped it to the asphalt next to her Mom’s, “We’re learning loads and having lots of new experiences.”

So saying the teen dropped to her knees and began to undo the vocalist’s zip. Her slut Mom followed her daughter’s example, her hands reaching for the bassist’s zip; she struggled with the undoing it even as Rory had pulled out her first cock and was getting out the drummer’s as the singer’s prick rapidly hardened. The rhythm and lead guitarist didn’t even wait for the Gilmore’s to undo them, seeing what was happening they undid themselves and pulled out their fully erect cocks.

“Wow…” “Christ…”, Lorelai and Rory exchanged impressed glances, licking their lips hungrily. The smallest of the cocks was just a touch under nine inches, the biggest at least a foot and none of the five rock-hard members on display were pencil thin, but thick and bulging. It was just what the Gilmore Girls were looking for; a mother-lode of dick. “Fuck, they’re huge,” the two Gilmore’s said in unison and began licking and sucking.

They took the cocks at random, firstly going for those nearest their mouths, sucking and licking at the huge rods. As they blew they slid their hands and fingers over the other waiting pricks and under their balls, keeping them firm — though it was unlikely with the Gilmore’s heads bobbing on their bandmates’ cocks that they would have gone limp. The first two cocks were only sucked for a few moments, before Lorelai and Rory pushed them out with their tongues and swivelled on their knees to take a new prick in their mouths. Again they sucked and licked at the two members, taking them deep into their mouths and pushing their tongues at the erect pricks, driving ad guiding them as they bobbed.

“Mmmmnnn,” said Rory as she pulled her mouth off the drummer’s cock. She shifted half a foot and lowered herself on the singer — the last untouched prick. Her mouth slid down the one-foot pole and she began to work her head back and forth, greedily slurping at the huge tool.

“Mmmmmnnn, too, you greedy tramp,” Lorelai pulled her mouth away from the lead guitarist, a trail of saliva holding between them for an instant. She stood up, but only for long enough to walk past her sucking daughter and onto the drummer’s recently licked prick. The Milf dropped down and took the ten inches between her lips, they slid down over a prick already wet with her daughter’s saliva. Deeper and deeper she went, sliding down further than Rory had managed, until the cock was pushing at her throat. She could hear the grunts of pleasure from the drummer as his cock was taken deep.

“Fucking hell,” gasped the vocalist as Rory’s head bounced up and down his member. He looked beside himself at his friend, the drummer, getting deep-throated by Lorelai. “Fucking hell,” he repeated as the two bandmates high-fived.

“Next,” gasped Rory, she pulled her head back and took a few deep breaths of much needed oxygen, before swivelling round enough to take the lead guitarist in her mouth.

At the same time Lorelai had brought back her head one last time, her eyes watering and with saliva dripping from between her lips. She grinned up at the drummer, before turning to take the bassist in her mouth. If she had gone deep before she went even deeper this time, sweeping down the full ten inches like it was a lollipop and only stopping her forward motion as the prick hit the back of her throat. The Milf’s eyes watered and she felt the bile rise in her throat as her gag reflex kicked in, but she steeled herself and with only a brief pause she continued to mouth-fuck the bassist. From his grunts and shivers she guessed he appreciated it. But it couldn’t last too long, Lorelai didn’t want the young man to cum — not when her and Rory’s front and back holes remained unviolated. She slurped down one last time, feeling her tonsils bounce as the cock rammed into them, before pulling up and switching to the vocalist, who gave another cry of “fucking hell” as Lorelai’s mouth took his member.

Meanwhile Rory was on her last prick. She wasn’t going as deep as her Mom, even if she was taking a large length, but she was more than making up for it with the speed and strength with which she sucked the rhythm guitarist. His hands rested on her shoulders and his eyes rolled in his head as the teen enthusiastically sucked at his nine-incher, her long brunette hair flying back and forth as her head bounced forward and back like she was still rocking at the gig. However, like her Mom she didn’t want him to cum; not yet anyway. The cock was so good, such a tasty piece of manmeat that Rory really had to force herself to stop sucking. Reluctantly she pulled her head back; from the look on the guitarists face she wasn’t the only one for whom stopping was a shame. She looked up at him and grinned, “Don’t worry — it’s not over yet.”

She looked over at Lorelai, her Mom had finished with the vocalist, stopping the deep-throat before he came — much to the singer’s frustration. Lorelai smiled teasingly and got to her feet, Rory following suit. The two Gilmores swung in a circle, looking at the five pricks, each one dripping with the saliva of a Milf and her girl and each one as hard as steel. Almost in unison Lorelai and Rory peeled down their hotpants, kicking them off as they slid. The coy smiles they gave the boys from the band were misleading, as with no underwear the two Gilmores were now clad only in their pumps and socks.

The two women skipped over to the van, leaning their hands against it and wiggling their behinds invitingly at the young men. There were growls of appreciation from the band members, like motorbikes revving up before a big race. Rory turned her head over her shoulder, smiling prettily at the five big dicked musicians, “You want to take me and my Mom? Fuck our tight… well tightish cunts from behind… well come on then.”

“Fuck… yeah,” grunted the five band members

“Hurry up,” said Lorelai impatiently, “We want big cocks… we want big cocks now.”

Strong muscular hands gripped her waist and the Milf gave a moan of pleasure as the first of the hard cocks was slid into her waiting cunt. The band member began to thrust, hammering his cock deep into Lorelai. Beside her Rory gave a groan as her slit was also filled by it’s first cock of the evening. Neither Gilmore knew which of the band members had moved in to take first shot, neither cared enough to turn round and see — they knew the pricks were hard and big and that was all they needed to know. “Fuck me, fuck me hard,” both Lorelai and Rory squealed.

The van began to rock as the first two band members began to hammer the two Americans against it, slamming their cock deeps into Milf and teen pussy. The two women gasped in pleasure, their hands hot against the cool steel of the van, feeling the excitement rise in them as the two large dicks stretched at their slits, racing over the slick, wet walls and pressing deep at their clits.

September 2018
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