How it started_(2)

Mom’s clit was as big as the end of a man’s thumb. I knew because dad told me about it before he walked out on us.

He said she couldn’t wear panties because they rubbed on it all the time and made her crazy. He said all you had to do was touch it and she went totally out of control, wanting to fuck. He thought there was something wrong with her and that’s why he left.

And me, I was thinking, “So what?”

I was sixteen years old, hornier than a two-peckered toad, and there was a really hot bitch standing right there washing dishes not six feet away.

Have you ever watched a woman washing dishes? I mean really watched her? The way she stands a little spraddle-legged when she’s working? The way her ass shakes when she’s scrubbing at some food dried on a plate?

Well, I did. And it had given me a raging hard-on.

So there was mom, just across the room, quietly washing the breakfast dishes. Her cotton-blonde hair hung down in long, careless curls, her trim ass wagged a sultry invitation to me, and I couldn’t handle it any longer. I needed a fuck, she needed a fuck, and dad was completely out of the picture. What did I have to lose?

I pushed myself up out of the kitchen chair and walked quietly up behind her. Not touching her, you know, just close. Then, without a word, I reached around and cupped her pussy in the palm of my hand through the loose folds of her skirt.

Dad had been right. The instant I touched her she dropped the dish she was washing – I heard it break when it hit the sink – and arched her back, pushing her pert ass back against me.

Well, I didn’t need any engraved invitation. I flipped her skirt up over her waist with my free hand, dug my swollen cock out of my jeans, and pushed it up into mom’s steaming cunt in one long, smooth, greasy shove. All the way to the balls.

She glanced back over her shoulder for a split second to see who it was and I saw her head droop forward toward the sink. I heard a soft moan deep in her throat and just started fucking into her with those long, slow, steady strokes.

There was no need to hurry. Her pussy was marvelous. Hot and wet and tight. Clenching at my cock. Milking it. She writhed against me, moving her pretty ass in little circles as I plowed into her, gasping every time I hit bottom. I wanted it to last for as long as it possibly could, and we had all the time in the world.

I reached around her then, clutching her pendulous breasts in both hands, rolling the hard little nipples between my thumb and forefinger, and kept driving my turgid prick deep into the soggy mystery of her quim. I must have fucked her like that for fifteen minutes or so, lost in a fantasy world of drooling cunt and warmth.

I felt her shudder through an intense orgasm, heard her fighting to catch her breath, and felt that odd, boiling sensation start building up behind my balls. I squeezed my eyes shut, wanting it to last, and knew I couldn’t hold out much longer.

“Shoot in me, Jimmy,” she gasped over her shoulder. “I want to feel you shoot in me.”

And I did. I pushed into her one last time, as deep as I could possibly get, clenched my teeth, and emptied myself in mom’s creamy cunt.

She groaned happily every time a spurt of my hot jizz burst against her cervix and just sort of wilted against the sink.

“Oh, that’s good!” she croaked. “That is sooo good! God, how I love you.”

She pushed hard back against me, as if she were trying to get even more of my rod buried in her, and ground her cunt down on my throbbing cock. When she felt the flood of my incestuous cum gradually die away, she stood up and let my tortured cock slip out of her.

She turned then, tilted her head, and sort of squinted at me, as if she were trying to reconcile in her mind that she had just fucked her own son.

And I knew – with that one, curious look – that my love affair with mom had only just started; that we would be fucking each other steady from then on. Day and night. Night and day. Whenever and wherever we felt like it.

I think mom knew it, too. A crooked little smile wobbled the corners of her lips and she eased herself down to her knees.

I felt her lips push slowly down over the head of my flagging prick and, amazingly, I started to stiffen again in her mouth.

She moaned again – a low, contented sound – and started bobbing her head back and forth, sluicing my reddened cock in and out of her mouth with tantalizing slowness. Her tongue was playing crazy games on me as she moved, swabbing smoothly across the underside of my shaft, stabbing at the little pee hole.

I felt her hand come up, caressing my balls, and my eyes slid shut as if I were dreaming. I tangled my fingers in that long blonde hair of hers and started very slowly fucking her face.

“Oh, man,” I groaned, “that’s incredible.”

She didn’t respond. Just kept working those talented lips up and down the length of my cock. I could feel her hair brushing against my thighs every time she came forward, feel her lips dragging over the sensitive glans every time she backed off, and my legs started trembling uncontrollably.