The year was 1762 and Benjamin Franklin returned to Philadelphia from his travels across England. He returned to his common law wife, Deborah Read, age 54, and his daughter Sarah, age 19. His time in England had been both beneficial for Ben in his research and discovery but also for his sexual libido. Rumors of multiple partners and sex-filled orgies were whispered to Deborah.
However, she knew Benjamin was a special man and while away, his needs had to be met. While he was away, Deborah and Sarah had taken in Betsy Child, age 46, and her daughter, Mary, age 19, into their home. Betsy was a mixed race woman who was born to a slave and her master. Her daughter Mary was born in the same fashion. Deborah had purchased them from a family friend to assist in keeping up the household. To his credit, Ben loved women who resembled Deborah. She was of medium height for a woman with very large and still firm breasts with womanly hips and backside with thick strong thighs. Her daughter was a younger image of her mother. Both having chestnut brown hair that hung to the top of their backsides when down.
Ben was surprised to find that his wife had brought in two slaves. She had been opposed to it however; he could tell this was different. Both Betsy and her daughter earned a wage while working. What struck him though was her appearance. She could be a darker version of his wife. Betsy was also of medium height and her very large and firm dark colored breasts jutted from her clothing. Her daughter, Mary, had the same build as her mother.
One room that was always off limits to Deborah was a padlocked room in the basement. Even though she had been in there many times, she was not to go in without her husband. Ben not only loved large breasted women, but also heat and sweat. He and his wife would spend hours in the chamber under the house engaged in a naked soiree of hedonistic pleasures. Moreover, Ben was hung! Deborah was happy to have him home to once again enjoy that beautiful cock of his.
Unfortunately, for Deborah, her husband took an immediate liking to the busty black house cleaner. Moreover, Betsy found Ben strangely attractive for an older white man. As Deborah’s time in the dank underground fuck lair Ben created, grew less and less; the hints the elder statesman was throwing at Betsy made her more and more curious.
Big, Bad Ben arranged for Deborah and his daughter Sarah to take Betsy’s daughter, Mary, with them to a farm on the outskirts of Philadelphia to gather fresh corn. This allowed him to be alone with Betsy.
“Betsy,” Ben called from the parlor.
Betsy walked in quickly, her bosoms heaving even under the tight confines of her dress, “Yes, Mr. Franklin?”
Ben stood and walked towards her, “Betsy, my dear,” he said with a coolness to his tone, “Have you ever seen my art collection?”
“Why, no, Sir,” the busty black maid answered, “I do not believe I have ever seen an art collection before.”
“Well,” Ben said with a smile, “You are in luck then. Please follow me.” With that, Ben led Betsy through the house and down the stairs to the cool basement. In front of them stood an oak door with a large iron padlock. Ben removed a skeleton key from his pocket and removed the lock. He lit a lantern and opened the door and a wave of heat hit them both. We waved a hand to usher her in front of him, “Please, my dear, after you.”
For Betsy, this was the first time a white man had ever treated her with so much kindness. She was starting to have stronger emotions for this worldly gentleman. She walked in and felt more heat, noticing the Franklin Stove in the corner. On the walls and on the shelves lining the room were painting and sculptures from all over the world. Many of them were ones she would have never believed could be shown in public, as they were of naked men and women engaging in lewd acts.
“Oh my,” Betsy shuddered out of part revulsion but mostly titillation. Her eyes were fixed on a painting that caught her eye. “Mr. Franklin, what is that?” She asked pointing.
“Oh that is one of my favorite pieces,” Ben said and led her closer to it. “It is of the Greek god Pan who is watching two wood nymphs fight over who gets to have him for the evening.”
“I cannot take my eyes off of it,” Betsy said in almost a trance like state. Ben knew he had her. She turned to him, her eyes full of lust. “Have you ever been the Pan before?”
Ben smiled as he started to unbutton his shirt, “Why yes, Betsy, I have. Before I returned from England, the two lovers I had decided to meet in front of me to see who would spend the night in my bed.” The shirt came open to reveal his rotund chest and belly.
“Why did they fight and not share you?” Betsy asked as she untied the collar of her dress, opening it slowly and revealed her chocolate colored cleavage.
“Because they did not want to share this,” Ben said coyly as he unbuckled his belt and dropped his trousers to reveal his massive cock.
Betsy groaned, as she had never seen such a large member on a white man before. She looked back over the paintings and sculptures, noting the large breasts on all the women, “You are a man who knows what you want and how to get it.”
Benjamin smiled wickedly, “By failing to prepare, you are preparing to fail, my dear.”
She quickly moved to remove her dress, tugging down and finally releasing her huge breasts. Now it was Ben’s time to groan out in lust. She wiggled her hips to tug the dress and her cotton knickers down her thick thighs. She was voluptuous but not fat. The naked Ben started lighting candles in the room and motioned the naked house cleaner to the small bed in the corner. He closed the door to the room. Betsy sat on the bed, spreading the dark thighs, showing Ben a mass of dark curls. She undid the pin in her hair to let it flow down to her back. Ben marveled at the massive breasts and could not keep his eyes off them. As he neared, Betsy took his cock in her hand and began to massage and stroke it. The shaft grew stiff. Blood rushed to the now growing member. She brushed the thickening head against her sweat soaked breasts, rubbing it over the mass of flesh. Licking her lips, she brought it to her mouth and began to tongue the veiny cock. Taking the entire member into her mouth, she pushed it deep in as Ben’s knees started to shake. He had not experienced this good of fellatio since France. Her head bobbed over the dick repeatedly. With her right hand, she massaged her own sex, priming the pump. She tasted the pre-cum and loved it. The cock came out of her mouth and she lay back on the bed. Ben took the hint and positioned himself between her legs. They both moaned as his bulbous head pressed into her moistened womanhood. He thrust in gently at first but Betsy wanted more. She grasped Ben at his naked hips and pulled him into her.
“Yes! Mr. Franklin! You are so big!” She exclaimed, “A real man amongst men!”
His hands filled with her breasts, cupping and massaging the massive bosoms. Her big, dark areola’s sported thick nipples, which grew to hard points. Both Ben and Betsy were dripping sweat as they grunted and groaned in erotic bliss. She could tell by his facial expression that he was close.
“Please Mr. Franklin,” Betsy pleaded, “Let my breasts do it!”
Ben removed himself from her womanhood and straddled her belly. She pushed the outsides of her massive tits together and his cock slide in between the globes. The sweat lubricated the tit fucking as he slid his cock faster and faster.
“AHH GOD SAVE THE KING!” Ben cried out as his load shot between the big breasts and into Betsy’s waiting mouth. She lapped up his seed and even brought her breasts up to lick the remnants off them.
Ben collapsed on the busty beauty and then enjoyed the after sex embrace. Ben assisted in cleaning her up and dressing her. As she turned to leave the room, Ben put a hand on her shoulder. “Please take this,” Ben said handing her a skeleton key. “We will meet when we can or if I have left you word to do so.”
“It would be my pleasure, Mr. Franklin,” Betsy said as she slipped the key into her dress pocket. She then resumed her normal course of work as Deborah, Sarah and Mary returned.
Deborah could immediately tell something in the house was different. She watched a sated Ben sit in the parlor and try to read but the look of satisfaction on his face gave him away. She glanced from him to Betsy and terrible thoughts came to her mind. She knew Ben had an insatiable appetite for women and in the past, Deborah had to engage in wild fights to keep him. However, since his travels, she had not fought in many years. Over the next few nights, she tried in vain to tempt him in bed or even to his basement chamber. She awoke almost nightly to find him out of his bed. She found each time, the light from the workshop lit. She would feign sleep hours later when he returned. Nevertheless, Ben showed little interest in relations with his wife. This frightened Deborah.
After a few weeks of the same, Deborah took a small candle and walked down the stairs of the house and to the workshop in the backyard. She found it empty. As if guided by an unseen force, she walked back into the house and down the stairs. Tonight, the door to his chamber was ajar. She heard the moans, heard the grunts, and cries of pleasure. She peaked in. Her hands clutched her large breasts as she saw Ben thrusting his throbbing cock into the womanhood of Betsy. The house cleaner was on all fours on the bed and her massive breasts swung like meaty pendulums. Deborah backed away silently and walked back to her bed. She sobbed, as she could not believe it. This jezebel, this hussy she had taken into her home, her and her daughter and this is what she does! She seduces the man of the house for her own pleasure. The thoughts brought white-hot anger to Deborah. She took out a small piece of parchment. Her first note was to Allister Williams, an old friend of Benjamin’s who was visiting from Boston. She implored Allister to indulge Ben with lots of wine to take his mind off work. She took out a second piece of parchment and with her best hand, wrote a note as close to her husband’s hand as she could.
Please meet me in basement tonight. Though I will be out, I intend to return to take you again. Please arrive after the house is asleep so we can move to our bed.
She folded it and placed it under her pillow as she laid back down just in time for Ben to return to his bed.
The next day, after Ben left, Deborah secretly placed the note in the kitchen. She went about her normal morning activities, walking back in to see the place where she left it, empty. As the sun set, after dinner as the women of the house readied for bed. Deborah brushed her long grey streaked dark hair. She wore a simple linin nightgown that barely contained her ample bosom. She poked her head down the hall to see the darkness coming from under her daughter’s bedroom and the room Betsy shared with her daughter. She came back into her room and blew out her lantern. A few moments later, she heard footsteps moving down the hall and down the stairs. She counted slowly to 100 and stepped, quietly tiptoeing down the hall and down the stairs. She paused every so often to listen for sound. As she neared the door going to the basement, she heard the iron padlock click open. She stealthily made her way down the stairs and paused next to the door to the chamber. She steeled herself and opened the door.
Inside, Betsy stood in a more worn nightgown as her chest heaved in surprise.
“I see now why my husband has made my bed cold, you jezebel!” Deborah cursed as she closed the door behind her. The heat of the room making her start to sweat. “Do you have any words of defense, tramp?”
The wife of her previous owner had called Betsy tramp. She was called that every single day and she hated the word. It brought a fire to her blood. “It seems obvious to me that Mr. Franklin has made his decision. He prefers his manhood in a darker meat.”
“How dare you speak to me that way, you ungrateful plague-sored woman,” Deborah hissed. “You and your ilk will leave house immediately.”
“I do not think I will do that, Mrs. Franklin,” Betsy said as she looked over her shoulder at the painting of Pan and the wood nymphs. “Mr. Franklin has clearly made his choice. Unless you want to act out the painting.” Then she turned her head back to face her nemesis and smiled.
“You want to fight over him?” Deborah asked, fire burning her dark eyes.
“I would fight anyone for that glorious piece of meat between his legs,” Betsy now sneered at Deborah.
The space between them lessened as they strode forward, meeting chest to chest. The two women, one the white wife and the other the black mistress bumped their oversized breasts together, sweat dripping off their foreheads.
Hands swung out almost simultaneously as the two women slapped the other across the face. This moved them back two steps, with hands holding stinging cheeks. They charged forward with hands going for hair. Finger wove into long hair as heads were pulled left and right as all the while, their breasts slammed and jostled for position. Both let out wails of pain as they fought in the hot underground room.
Sarah was suddenly awake as she heard the sound of screaming. She quickly lit a lantern and went out of her room. As she entered the hallway, she almost bumped into Mary. Both were dressed simply in white nightgowns.
“Did you hear the screams as I did?” Sarah asked as the two paused and listened.
“I did, Miss Sarah,” Mary replied, “It sounds like two wailing cats.” Their heads turned sharply as they heard it again, from somewhere downstairs. The two young women quickly made their way down.
In the basement, Deborah pushed Betsy against the far wall, holding her there but the hair and pressure of her body. The black woman pulled a clump of brown hair out, making the white wife scream in pain. Betsy grabbed the shoulder of her new sexual rival and turned the two of them against the wall. The right shoulder of Deborah’s nightgown tore.
“YOU HARLOT!” Deborah yelled, pulling a clump of black hair from Betsy’s head and grabbed a hold of the black woman’s nightgown and pulled.
The two mature cats turned the tempo of their fight to violently removing the other’s nightgown. The two garments tore down the front, releasing two sets of massive breasts. Betsy backed away, letting her gown fall to the floor. Her fixed on the bouncing breasts of Deborah. The white woman took a step away from the wall and her own gown slide off her body.
For a split second Deborah went into the back of her own mind, it had been over 10 years since she was naked and fighting over Benjamin. A raven-haired widow of a family friend had attempted to take him and the two had fought for many hours in the confines of the widow’s bedroom. Their bodies bore scratches and even bite marks to the most intimate of body parts. In the end, Deborah had proved to be the better woman, outlasting the widow and forcing her to unconsciousness.
Betsy too thought back to almost 7 years back when the perverted owner and his buxom wife would have the slave women fight naked for their pleasure. Betsy had won and her owner wanted her in his bed but the wife protested. The owner told his wife to strip naked and fight then. Therefore, she did. The two women slammed together and fought in a grueling catfight that lasted for what Betsy thought was an eternity. In the end, she lost, as the wife had not spent most of the night fighting other women as Betsy had been doing.
Deborah charged at Betsy, slamming their bodies together again and taking them down to the stone floor. Thick thigh locked together as Betsy twisted her body to send them to a roll across the floor. As one would roll on top, the woman on the bottom would slap her hands over backs and backsides. The claps of hands meeting flesh echoed in the small chamber. Betsy rolled with her now in the top position but instead of Deborah slapping, she grabbed the dangling breasts in front of her.
“AAAAHHHH NNNNOOOO!” Betsy screamed as the white she-devil mauled her bosoms. She filled her own hands with Deborah’s tits and squeezed.
The two howled as unbeknownst to them, their daughters rushed down the stairs to the basement chamber. Sarah set down her lantern as she could see light coming from under the door. She pulled the door opened and gasped. There in the middle of a hot room was mother and the black house cleaner, squeezing breasts naked. Sarah rushed in, grabbing the back of Betsy’s hair.
“Get off my mother, you hussy!” She screamed as she yanked back. Then she felt pain in her own scalp!
“You let go of MY mother!” Mary screeched as she pulled the 19 year old off her mother.
Sarah turned and wrapped her arms around the young black woman, taking them down to the floor. As their mothers continued to grope and maul breasts, Sarah and Mary wrestled wildly about. Hair was yanked as nightgowns were pulled. The effort causing the gowns to stretch and then tear. The two busty daughters soon rendered the other naked as their mothers were. Their young busty bodies clashed.
Deborah bucked her hips, throwing Betsy off to the side. Both women rose to their knees and slammed together. Their massive breasts compressed with a large amount mushrooming out at their sides. The engorged nipples stabbed deep into the mass of breast flesh. Arms wrapped around back to constrict their upper bodies. They went cheek to cheek as they grunted with exertion. Betsy had her legs spread wide to keep her balance. As Deborah noticed this, she sent her right knee in between the thick thighs of her black rival. The knee impacted in the mass of dark curly hair that covered her mound.
“UUUUGGGHHH!” Betsy cried out and opened her mouth to bite down on Deborah’s shoulder.
“AAAIIIEEEEE!” Deborah screamed as the black woman sunk her teeth in. They tipped sideways and hit the edge of the small bed. With effort from both, they moved up and came down violently on top of the bed.
The rolling daughters tumbled wildly around the stone floor. Their bodies were slick with sweat and each had a difficult time holding a top position. Their large breasts crushed as legs wrapped around the others and squeezed. Hands desperately pulled at the others hair. Neither young woman had ever been in a fight, let alone one that already had them both nude. Their primal instincts kicked in as bodies fought.
The bed creaked as the battling mature women fought for control. Deborah twisted them over and they lay side by side. Hands unlocked around back to reach in front to once again grab the other woman’s massive breasts. The overabundance of flesh oozed as they squeezed. Bodies, slick with sweat, squirmed closer as they both felt the tufts of pubic hair roughly brush against skin.
Betsy brought her hips into a slap, “He wants me!” She cried out.
“NO!” Deborah yelled back as she thrust her hips to meet those of her rival, “He wants me! UGH!”
The mass of dark pubic hair tangled and for the first time in their mature lives, the two women met womanhood to womanhood with women. It sent strange feelings through both. At that moment, both could have been the key on the kite when the man they were fighting over discovered electricity. Groans were added to the sounds of slaps and sharp cries of pain. Neither could contain it as heads flew back when they erupted. The bed rocked as the writhing women traded their womanly juices. Disgusted, they pushed away from the other, with Betsy falling to the floor and Deborah laying on her back on the bed.
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 the 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 kneel 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 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 to 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 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 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 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.
Sarah closed the currently unpublished Poor Richards 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 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.