She ached. Her breasts ached with the heightening fires of need. She gripped the firm stalk of her son’s cock with a fist and squeezed wantonly. Up and down her fist ran, jacking at his virile pussy-pleaser. Immediately, his mouth increased the suction of his caress.
“I think we’d better get rid of our clothes,” she managed to say. “I don’t think I can wait for you any longer. I want you inside me, moving.”
He abandoned her breasts, mouth and hands, and looked up and smiled. Likewise, she released the hearty hold on his cock. Both of them began to peel down their jeans.
He had no more than tossed his pants aside when he moved to her naked body. She reclined on her back, opening her arms to him. But instead of mounting the bed of her body, he stretched out beside her.
His hand returned to her breasts, fondling them for a moment or two, then drifting down toward the core of her desire. Through the black patch of her pubic muff, his fingers combed. He taunted her with a tickling fingertip that ran along each side of her dampening sex slit, and he caressed the smooth interior of her womanly thighs.
Almost in an involuntary reaction, her thighs spread wider and wider, as if calling him back to the wanton gash of her snatch. Eventually, his hand returned. She groaned out in a husky voice of lust when an exploring finger pushed up into the hot channel of her cunt.
“Hot,” he said, as though to himself. “You’re so hot and wet.”
“And ready,” she added.
But he ignored her. Instead his probing finger continued its arousal, sluicing in and out of her excited pussy. He fingerfucked her. He drilled in and out of her snatch, fanning the fires of her need for him.
She writhed and bucked, her pelvis undulating in time with his quick, sharp strokes. Her own hands returned to his cock, squeezing and fondling its throbbing length. This was what she wanted, not his finger.
Her meaning was clear. He eased his entrenched digit from the humid tunnel of her lust and mounted her.
Expertly, her hands guided the turgid rail of his prick to the waiting mouth of her belly. She positioned him there, holding his shaft until his hips thrust forth, skewering his cock into her body.
Stiff and unyielding, he cut into the juicy slot of her pussy. Her back arched up sinuously, accepting the meaty fatness of his rod. She took her son into her body, welcomed every swollen inch of his incestuous sex into her cunt. She squeezed down with every ounce of strength held in her pussy muscles. She tightened herself for him, trying to make this moment as pleasurable for him as it was for her.
Apparently, it was. He groaned out, his body trembling. For a moment, she thought that he had come in the excitement of their union. But his cock remained hard and long, firmly rooted in the possessive hole of his mother’s sex. She sighed, grateful for the control of his loins.
“Fantastic,” he said with a quick inward thrust of his hips. “So tight and hot!”
Fantastic was exactly the way she felt. He was so hard and swollen within her. She felt packed to the brim, stuffed with her son’s presence. Every cell in her body thrilled with shivery delight. She was solidly impaled on his skewering prick and loved it — every inch of it.
“Move,” she whispered into his ear. “Move within me. I want to feel you moving!”
His hips lifted and his pulsing staff of sex slid upward from the deep recesses of her cunt. The pink folds of her pussy squeezed tighter, trying to capture and hold him, but it was impossible. The thick head of his rod eased outward to the very lips of her love channel. Then they began their inward tunneling.
Quivering with excitement, she relished the firm, virile sensation of her son’s cock burrowing deeply into the hot, spongy confines of her body. Deeper and deeper that slithery pole moved, once more filling the needs of her body. She held tightly to him, reveling in the magnificent strength of his young loins.
“My God, you’re a man,” she heard herself saying. It was then she realized that’s exactly what he was. Her son was no longer a child, or a boy, but a man. And she was his woman.
She was his woman. The thought sent rippling arousal up and down her spine. She was his woman, and as any loving woman should do, she was stretched out on her back, opening her thighs to her man. She was giving her body to him, letting her son pole the intimate groove of his mother’s cunt.
Quickly this time, his hips swung upward. With the same alacrity, they drove down. Hard and long, he shafted his spearing lance of flesh into the socket of her pussy. Wet and hot, she accepted it and enfolded him within her welcoming snatch. She tightened herself, squeezing with vise-like persistence.
Upward his pelvis rose. Out from the aching interior of her body his manly root of flesh came. Then once again, he drilled home his prick. Her body was jarred by the strong impact of his crotch. His pelvis ground into hers. Her clit ached and throbbed, feeling the pressure of his thrust.
He was so big. Thick and long, he reamed the channel of her lust. She was a mare and he was her stallion. Willingly, she accepted the pistoning action of his prick, her pussy flooding with the juices of arousal. Lovingly, she took the skewering plunges of his cock.
Her body was consumed with lust and want for her son. For the last two nights, she had felt her brother within her. But it was nothing like this. This was her son shafting in and out of her, her own son, child of her body and its lover.
She wanted to feel him deeper, she ached to have him driving to the very heart of her soul. Drawing her legs upward and resting her feet flat on the floor of the tent, she opened her body even more for him. His lunging strokes knifed into her, lancing even further up the greedy harbor of her cunt.
He was deep now. The fat crown of his prick was plunging deep and long. He felt as though he would drive all the way up into her mouth at any moment.
“Ahhaarrgggahhh,” she groaned her pleasure for him. Her body squirmed and writhed under him. “Ohhhhh, my sweet God, it feels so good — feels so marvelous to have you fuck me!”
“Fuck you,” he echoed her words. “Fuck my mother!”
His hips wrenched upward and slashed down. Inward his pulsing root came. He flayed open the folds of her cunt and rammed into the innermost recesses of her pussy. He fucked her, driving on like a man gone wild.
“That’s it,” she urged him on. “Fuck me hard. Fuck me hard and deep.”
Relentlessly, he poled into her. Willingly, she took his almost brutal thrusts. Her hands slid down over his back and raked into the tight balls of his buttocks. Her hips lurched upward pressing tightly to his youthful crotch while her fingers pulled at him with flaming urgency.
She came. As had happened the night before, she came, then came again.
Still her son ravaged savagely into the trembling hole of her cunt. Whether or not he understood exactly what was happening in his mother’s body, she didn’t know. But as long as that rigid shaft of manmeat slid in and out of her, she didn’t mind. She just sailed on the heightening shudders of her lust.
She came, then again, and again.
Harder and harder, his loins seemed to pump. Deeper and deeper the swollen stalk of his dick seemed to plummet into the mouth of her belly. She quaked as blast after blast of orgasmic bliss raced through her. She groaned, caught in the constant series of climaxes that exploded within the core of her loins. She shook violently as each shuddering wave whipped her higher and higher.
In and out, the ram-rodding column of her son’s cock sluiced.
She came and she came and she came!
The sensations were incredible. Each shattered her soul, yet still they came one after another. It was like being tortured with pleasure. Every nerve of her body was overloaded, yet still they accepted each sizzling blast of ecstasy.
She thrashed under him. Her body squirmed to escape his driving cock, yet at the same time, her hips thrust wildly, eating at that marvelous pussy-pleaser.
He fucked her and she came.
She was lost in the oblivion of the ultimate of pleasures. She no
longer existed. She lived only for his cock and its searing heat and the consuming passion of her body.
Out and in, his shaft drilled to the hot recesses of her cunt. Out and in, his prick lashed into her ever-greedy pussy. And she came.
She tried to find her voice and tell him of his total control of her body. But she no longer had a voice, nor could she find the words. All she could do was groan, freeing the bestial lust from her throat.
Harder and harder her body shook. Each climactic quake grew in intensity. Higher and higher she rose. Closer and closer she approached the moment when she would be thrown into another universe — a dimension where only pleasure existed.
Inward his ever-moving cock skewered. Outward, his hips leaped, dragging his prick from her contracting cunt. He alone controlled her. He alone ruled this moment in her life.
Quaking in hot swirls from her thighs it came. Like a bursting nebula it exploded within the depths of her loins. She felt her body go rigid beneath her son; then there was only pleasure.
It was a total experience. Each and every cell of her body glowed with white heat. Colors flashed, melting into one another, flaring to burning white. Then back to the spectrum again.
Her voice — she somehow knew she was crying out in sheer delight, yet she could hear nothing, but the whirlwind of passion rushing through her ears. It was magnificent. It was the complete consummation by pleasure. It ached, it hurt — so wonderfully.
She soared there for an eternity. Then she slowly returned to the reality of the world around her. She felt her son still moving within the quaking depths of her cunt. She felt the weight of his young body pinning her to the floor of the tent. She was aware of her hips bucking and thrusting to meet each pistoning plunge of his prick.
Her need sated for the moment, she turned attention to fulfilling his. Politely, she ran a hand down between the sweating, slick cores of their bodies. Thoughtfully, her fingers found his ball sac. The weighty rocks within that wrinkled bag jerked and twitched at her intimate caress. Upward they rose, trying to escape into the security of his testicle sac.
Still she persisted. Her fingertips taunted and toyed with the kidney-shaped stones. She fondled them, knowing that as she did, she stirred the flaming needs of her son’s groin.
At the same time, she extended a finger upward, lightly touching the spearing pole of his cock. The results were explosive. When her finger tapped at his prick, feeling its length, slickened with the juices of her own body, her son shuddered.
“Ahhhhhh,” he groaned, his hips lurching forward with urgency. “Damn, oh, sweet God!”
Deeply entrenched within the caressing channel of her pussy, the swollen head of his cock jerked and twitched. Outward, from the slitted mouth of his glans, the creamy jets of his lust spurted.
She held him. She clung to his young body while he spewed forth the seed of his loins. She clutched him, delighting in the trembling pleasure rushing through him.
His pelvis twitched as he seemed to try and work his cock even deeper into the hot luxury of her cunt. She arched her hips upward, attempting to open herself for him. She sighed as she felt the fountains of come blast into her. This man, this woman-pleasing man was her son and she gratefully received the seed of his body.
Then as the quaking trembles of his lustsated flesh subsided, she just held him, reveling in the complete fulfillment of their carnal union.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Mona’s leadened eyes opened. Above her was the top of the tent.
She smiled, remembering. She glanced beside her. Phil was still there. His eyes were closed and his young chest rose and fell gently. He was asleep.
The last thing she remembered was just lying there beneath her son, basking in the feel of their bodies so closely pressed together. Then?
She wasn’t sure. She must have drifted off in the total relaxation that had suffused through her body after their love making. It had been good, so wonderfully good.
Again, she looked at her son. An impish urge to reach out and fondle the sleeping hose of his penis rushed through her. She resisted the impulse, letting her son sleep.
Closing her eyes, she listened. From outside came the sound of birds singing in the woods. But she couldn’t hear anyone moving around in the camp. It was almost noon. Where was everybody? Even if Jason and Liz had slept late, Frank was always an early riser.
Frank!
Memories flooded back into her mind. The hollow ache returned. But somehow it seemed more dulled than before. She smiled to herself. Perhaps in a week or two, it would be completely gone. She knew she would always have memories of Frank, a few good, mostly bad. But that was as it should be. To forget the hurt and the pain, that was the way it was supposed to be too.
She glanced across the tent to her unfinished packing chore. Sooner or later, she would have to rise and complete the task and start back home.
Home? She shook her head. There was no home waiting for her now. If she knew Frank, she would find all her things waiting for her on the front porch, as would Phil and Karen. Suddenly, she felt sorry for her stepdaughter. The girl had probably been hurt more by Frank than she had. But Karen was a strong girl; she would get over her father’s rejection sooner or later. And she would find a man to love her — perhaps even Bret. Who knew what waited in the future.
Home?
Her thoughts returned to the house. And that’s exactly what it had been to her, a house not a home. She could get a motel room for herself and Phil, and of course, Karen, when she got back to the city. It shouldn’t take too long to find a suitable apartment for her family. Thank God, she hadn’t listened to Frank and quit her job. She shuddered at the thought of trying to locate a decent job during these rough times. They wouldn’t have the money they had with Frank’s salary, but she made enough for them to live comfortably. And there was the money she had tucked away for Phil’s college expenses. Perhaps if her son and stepdaughter got part-time jobs, she could stretch that savings account to cover both their expenses. It would be tight, but not hard.
She smiled to herself again. It didn’t look that bad now. All she needed was to think things out. She didn’t kid herself. It wouldn’t be easy at first, but she could and would make it. She would, of that she was sure. She had done it once before, after Tom’s death, and she would do it again.
Divorce, there was no way to get around that. Not that she wanted to. She and Frank had been heading in that direction ever since they had taken their marriage vows. If he hadn’t recognized it, she had. Even though she had tried to push it from her mind. Now that she faced that fact, it seemed for the best. There were other men in the world, and she was still an attractive woman. This time, however, she would be cautious and make damn sure she knew exactly what type of man she was getting involved with. And if that meant sleeping around a bit, again that seemed for the best — perhaps even fun!
But what about Phil?
She looked over at her sleeping son. She wasn’t sure about that. Something new stirred in her breast when she gazed on him now. Yes, she was still his mother, but there was more than just motherly love. They knew each other’s bodies now; there was no way to change that. They had taken each other as lovers. Perhaps it would be only for this day?
She knew it couldn’t be forever. Her son was a man now. He had to seek a life and a woman of his own. She couldn’t and wouldn’t use her body to hold him to her. After all, he was her son. And there were other men in the world; she was going to find them.
Perhaps they would share each other’s bodies again. The thought warmed her. She would enjoy that. If it happened, it happened. Nothing more than that.
Karen and Phil? Again, if it happened, it happened. Three days ago, she would have been shocked by the thought. But now, it seemed natural and right.
Her eyes drifted over her sleeping son’s body. She visualized him making love to his stepsister. She felt the sudden dampening of her loins as the sexy vision of their two young bodies flashed through
her mind.
The urge to reach out and toy with his penis returned. She shivered and listened. Still she could hear no one moving outside.
Why not? The thought thrilled her. Why not wake her son and feel him within her one more time. Her hand trembled as she reached out. A mere inch from that tempting hose, she stopped and smiled. No! There was a better way to rouse him.
She slid down along his side until her face rested next to his groin. Softly she kissed him. He stirred. She kissed him again. He moaned. Within a few minutes, he was awake — every inch of him.
THE END
LL-201 MAKING MOM SUCK
CHAPTER ONE
Judy glanced at her son as she wheeled the heavy car along the stretch of highway. It was after noon and they’d had lunch about fifteen miles back. There were still over a hundred miles to go. She had picked him up where he had been staying with her ex-husband three hours ago. As usual, there had been an argument between her and her ex. This time, thank God, it had been mild.
On each side of the highway, as far as the eye could see, there was nothing but desert — sand, sage brush, yucca and Joshua trees. It was desolate country, hot and dry.
But it suited Judy.
No one bothered her. She lived alone in a fifty-year-old house with her son, Johnny, when he wasn’t staying with his father. He stayed with his father two weeks each year, and usually there was an argument between Judy and her son when it was time for him to go. Johnny didn’t want to visit with his father, he wanted to stay home with her. Judy was not the one forcing him to go, it was the courts and her ex-husband.
Make me do it, please!
Force me! Tell me to do what you would like!
The words tumbled through her mind, almost incoherent in her need. There were other ways to do it, certainly, lots of easier ways. But Judy needed to be told, forced, made to do things like a small child.
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