THE KINCAID FAMILY KINK – part 2

THE KINCAID FAMILY KINK – part 2
Their son’s lust first turns dad on, then mom,
and turns into a complex menage of obsession.

by Oediplex 8==3~

Part 2: The kinky fantasy begins to be entangling

The following evening though, as the family settled into their comfortable preliminaries of foreplay, Harry seemed a bit distracted, and a mite off his enthusiasm from the prior nights. Mandy was afraid the party wouldn’t last long, and that her worry was being fulfilled as she had feared. But now the lady had the key to unlock his inner sanctum, push the button to boost the octane of his hormone mix, and make his motor run full throttle. But perhaps he was also a bit shy, uncertain of how his spouse would handle those deepest of secrets; that only now, after some twenty-odd years of marriage, had just surfaced. Mandy decided that she would be sweet, and understanding, and solicitous.

After all, she considered, what did she care if he had a thing for his mom? ‘Mother Kincaid’ was several hundred miles away. As far as his turn-on about Jack wanting to screw his own mom; Mandy thought that was a more sticky sort of hankering, but nothing they couldn’t work out, if everybody was open and honest about it. ‘I mean,’ her mind reasoned, ‘it’s not as if I was about to bed my son, for the sake of my husband’s horny dreams. And surely, Harry would not want to share me with another man, even if it was his son. Somethings are beyond the pale, after all.’ Mandy’s musing went further, ‘But on the other hand, why not make magic with a trip to fantasyland, and take a ride on the kinky carpet – [a-lad-an’] his mom, if you will pardon the poor pun!’

“Darling?” She opened her coy ploy, to play on his complex with an Oedipus play, staring ‘Kid’ Kincaid, “Would you like to pretend to be the son, and I’ll be your momma?” Immediately, his face lit up, and his penis raise higher. “Shall I be Libby? (His mom, Elizabeth; a petite, and still handsome woman even in her sixties). And you can be the teenager, who seduces her to have incest, and make her like it, and want more?” Harry hesitated. “Or not, if you’d like another scenario, do you want to be the ‘milkman’? You found that a fun fantasy in the past.”

“Uh, I like the incest theme, but what if, uh . . I was – Jack, . . with you. See, I, I mean me, gave permission for the two of you to . . get together. Would you be uncomfortable with that? I mean in our fantasy tonight, not that I would ever ask you to do anything you didn’t want to do – I mean for real, but if you role play, that would be hot. Get my blood flowing, if you know what I mean.”

Mrs. could see the turgid erection of Mr., bobbing with anticipation. “I would be happy to be Mandy – to your Jack, for you darling. Knowing that it would please my faithful husband; in his head, in our bed, in the moment, and in fantasy only, dear.” She wanted to make it clear that she was not going to be allowing their son to fool around with his mother, in real life. That would be a whole other kettle of fish, or horse play of another color, or can of worms, (barrel of monkey business?), some sort of mess at any rate. Though she dimly was aware that she herself had dabbled in the dirty with Jack, the other night, muddying the waters.

“Jack,” His wife said to hubby Harry, “I think it’s very open of your father, to let us fool around. Are you a virgin? Have you ever made love to a woman.?”

“No, momma,” Harry, as Jack, came back, “This is my first time, and I’m glad it’s with you. I love you, momma. I think you’re so sexy, and I have wanted to do it with you for years.”

“Then, come to momma, and you can cum in momma, ‘Honey-Sonny’” (Libby’s pet name for Harry when he was a boy, and sometimes when she was wheedling a favor now days, as well.)

Sure enough, Harry was youthful in his vigor and rigor, but timid and tender in his manner, as he affected an awkward adolescent arrangement of angled limbs, and imitated inexperience in the ways of intimacy. He had Mandy almost believing she was in the sack with a teen, with Jack, with their lusty boy. It made a surreal sort of illusion, having her son suckle her breasts, and poke at her pussy with a nice fat boner. But it was her hubby too, and safe, not the insanity of incest; yet it had the tension and tingle, of the naughty. She felt the lubrication flood the nether chamber of her sex, but in welcome of whom? Was she in heat for hubby or her own ‘Honey-Sonny’? she questioned.

Then Harry hit the mark squarely, putting his round peg in the honey-hole. From there the sensuous sensations of sweet sex, were sweeping her away, and Mandy was more into cumming with the male in her, that concerned about which of the men it was. As long as his dong was coming into her cunt, to bring her off, he could shoot his cum in momma, meaning Mandy, and make both complete. As flesh slapped together, and they did the dance of the two-backed beast, she was crying out in ecstatic joy. But at the last, as she needed the muscle which had penetrated her pussy to pulse, and purge its creamy load in her woman’s womb, she cried out loud, “Yes! Jack! Give me your hot cum in mamma’s cunt, fuck me Sweetie, fuck your horny mother!!!”

Instantly she wondered if their son was outside our door, and listening in on the fantasy to which he could only dream of, but was being played out by his parents. Was it fair to make the sounds of temptation in his hearing, with no possibility of his being involved? But how could they allow that to become actual action? Surely, they could not, Mandy was certain. Parental prerogatives were denied children. But, he was a young adult now, would he expect that the privileges of maturity, be inclusive of our incestuous experiments in imagination. But still, her rationalizing went, it was just creative play, not genuine hard-core, outright, raunchy rutting of grown-up intercourse, between progeny and parents.

Then Mandy’s mind was made a thick fog, forgetting whatever concern and care she had, as the concussion of hairy balls, and hammering pile-driver blasted everything to kingdom cum. The invoking of his son’s name, had Harry-as-Sonny socking it to momma, in the manic-panic of pounding paroxysm, in need to empty his sacks of pent up passion, in the womb of the woman that had given him life. Which Mandy-as-Momma was the surrogate, of this evening’s therapy for her husband.

She was confident that in the hall, she was being the vicarious vessel of their offspring’s lust as well.