Mom Going Down

Psychologists invariably agree that man has certain needs which are an inherent part of his nature. The most commonly mentioned are the physical needs — the need for food, water and shelter. The need for sex — the “reproductive drive” as it is often referred to — is also considered basic to man.

We see this last need demonstrated time and time again. Witness the failure of the early Communist drive to abolish the family structure. Or the contemporary depletion of the priesthood and the decline in institutions such as convents and monasteries.

This is the story of a woman whose sexual drive has not been denied its proper outlet, and yet she still is not satisfied with her sex life with her husband. The reason: a husband who constantly tries to reinforce his “manhood” by bragging about his sexual prowess. Her husband also builds himself up by belittling the couple’s son, a shy and sensitive teen.

So the die has been cast. The mother sees in her beloved son a means to satisfy her craving for sex combined with love, the element which has been missing from her relationship with her husband.

MOM GOING DOWN — the story of a woman whose quest for fulfillment leads her down a shadowy path — to what? A shocking story, but one with a message for all who profess an interest in the institutions of marriage and the family.


Monica stood in front of the stove and watched the bacon sizzle and sputter in the pan — six slices, all for Gil. She forked them over and pushed them aside to make room for the half-carton of eggs he’d eat before he left.

She sighed and pushed a lock of teak-brown hair from the side of her young-featured face. She wrapped the thin housecoat more tightly around her slim, curving body.

She made a mental note to fix the belt while Gil was out on the rig this time. It kept gaping open at the wrong times, and she was sure she’d shown her son her tits and cunt and, ass by now, all in bits and flashes, like a rank exhibitionist.

She tugged and sighed again, slipping the bacon from the pan to drain on a paper towel. She began the task of breaking eggs and felt that strange confusion of emotions run through her mind.

She was never certain how she should feel about Gil’s being gone a month at a time, stuck all that way out into the Gulf on an oil rig.

It was a mixed blessing every time he left. She got lonely for him. But her sore cunt got a rest while he was gone, too.

Thinking about her pussy made her conscious of the itch and throb between her naked legs. That brought on a spasm of her tight, flaming asshole, and she let out a sound as if she’d just been burned by popping, hot grease.

She swore softly under her breath. It was when she felt this way that she was glad he was leaving. It was going to take her half a week to get her cunt and asshole back to normal after the hours of solid fucking he’d given her last night.

His big prick had drilled into her body again and again, as if probing for oil in her ass instead of in the Gulf. When he’d shot his first load up her cunt, it had been a gusher of white jism.

She put her hand to her lap and pressed inward against her sore twat with the heel of it. She let out another small sound. Yes, she was going to welcome the rest from his reaming cock this time, even if she did start getting horny before the first week was out.

“Hi, baby,” he said, coming into the kitchen in his shorts. “Hey, come on back in here a minute. I’ve got a swell going-away present for you.”

She turned and looked at him with a half-fearful expression in her eyes. He nodded his head toward the bedroom and grinned lecherously. She saw the thick, stocky build of him, the sandy hair, the blocky face. She also saw the rod-shaped length of his heavy cock thickening inside his shorts.

Her cunt spasmed again. “Oh, Gil!” she moaned. “Not again — no, honey! I-I’ve got your eggs on already. Gil…”

He came up to his and wrapped a thick, strong arm about her slender waist and pulled her body against his barrel chest as if she were a rag doll.

Her firm, pointed tits mashed against him. His mat of chest hair scratched the tender nipples he’d sucked two inches longer than normal last night. The thin garment offered no protection against their sensitivity.

He lifted a big hand and cupped the end of her tit and mauled it through the thin housecoat, rolling it over her chest, sweeping the other tit into the span of his gasp, then rolling both of them with the palm of his one hand.

“Pretty nice tits for an old broad like you,” he grinned. “Firm and big, and they fill the hand just light.”

“Gil, stop — the eggs…”

“Fuck the eggs,” he breathed heavily, pulling her against him again.

“Honey, this old broad’s done in from last night still,” she persisted, smiling in her pretty way to make a joke of it.

“Ah, thirty-five’s not that old. Come on, baby, I’m gettin’ a big one started here. Shit, I’m gonna be gone a Goddamn month again. Here, reach down and feel it.”

She didn’t have to reach down. She could already feel it. His cock swelled to full erection as he talked and squeezed her tits. He had his hands on the tight, round globes of her ass now, kneading them firmly.

He pulled her middle tightly against his own, completely covering her asscheeks with his palms. His prick throbbed and hammered insistently against her mound, and she could feel the pulses vibrate down to the full, tender lips of her sore cunt.

“Gil, stop it,” she pleaded softly. She kept her voice down. She avoided the bruising kiss he was trying to give her. She glanced toward the kitchen door. “Bruce might come in and see you like this, trying to rape me in the kitchen,” she smiled, still trying to keep it light.

Gil half snorted. “Do the kid good,” he said, squeezing her asscheeks again. “Maybe if monkey saw, monkey’d do it to that cute little twat he keeps mooning over.”

“Gil, don’t start picking at him again. And don’t call Nancy a little twat. She’s a nice, pretty girl,” Monica said reproachfully.

“The gals knew there was a big ready cock about to fuck ’em when they saw me coming down the street. The women, too,” he grinned. “He’d better hurry up and stick that little twat, or I might just do it for him one day, just to show that girl all us Evans’ aren’t too stupid to know what to do with a wet pussy.”

He started pushing her back into the bedroom. “Gil, the eggs are burning,” Monica said quickly, her voice suddenly chilly.

She reached out for the spatula, ready to knee him in the balls if he didn’t let go of her. She couldn’t stand it when he talked that way, about what a big fucker he was. Particularly when he talked about shoving his heavy, thick prick into Nancy’s cute little body.

It turned some women on to hear a man talk like that. Her twin sister, Vicky, for instance.

“Yeah, take ’em out,” Gil said.

He didn’t release her. He backed toward the stove and made her reach around his body. He grinned as she leaned against his thick chest and worked the eggs from the pan.

Her tits rolled and pressed against his body. Her cunt swiveled against his stiff cock, making the shaft even harder and thicker than it was already, and she knew she wasn’t going to escape.

“You’d better eat them, honey,” she said. She looked at the plate heaped with bacon and eggs and nearly gagged. She didn’t know how he could eat so much. He wasn’t really that big a man. Only stocky.

He laughed and dipped his head and started sucking at one tit he’d worked free of the housecoat.

“Gil!” Monica cried, glancing toward the doorway again, praying Bruce wouldn’t come in and see this.

“You said to eat ’em,” he ginned.

“Your eggs, you oaf!”

“Ahhhh, I’ll eat ’em cold,” he said, holding her tightly again. He lifted her up from the floor easily, carrying her as if she were a bouquet of flowers instead of a hundred-and-ten-pound woman.

“Gil…” she cried, looking over her shoulder, seeing the unmade bed loom larger and larger. Her cunt throbbed and reminded her of its soreness again.

“God, you’re a little doll,” he breathed huskily, his prick now jutting through the slit in his shorts, thick and full.

“Did-did I tell you that Vicky was coming to stay while you were gone this time, honey?” she said conversationally, even though it was clearly too late to divert him.

His prick pounded heatedly against her. “Vicky? Yeah? Staying here? Damn!”

He puffed a little harder. Monica could have kicked herself. After so many years, she’d forgotten how blatantly and unashamedly Gil’s tongue hung out when her twin sister was around. She’d never understood it. They looked exactly alike. Yet, Vicky had that effect on all men, and she didn’t. It was more than looks. It was something that oozed from Vicky, like the scent from a filly in constant heat. It screamed “Fuck me!” to the whole world.

Gil kicked the door shut. He carried her to the bed. He laid her out on it and gazed down on her with eyes brimming with lust and a cock that wouldn’t stop pounding and throbbing now.

“Vicky, huh?” he said again. “Now, why would you go and invite her to stay just when I’m leaving for a month? Old Stan’s been buried a good six weeks now, and that sister of yours has got to be screaming for a big fat prick to fuck by now. What good’s it gonna do her with me way out on the rig and her here? Baby, you gotta plan things better than that!”

“You horny Goddamn bastard,” she growled at him, pushing at his chest, thoroughly fed up with him now.

He laughed and wrestled gently against her full strength until she panted and gave up. It was no use to try to resist him physically — no use at all. Her robe had come apart, baring her tits and one lip of her cunt and the trim length of one thigh, but she didn’t even care right then.

He gazed down on her near nudity and stopped laughing. His face changed, acquiring an expression of odd tenderness. He looked at her body as if seeing it for the first time.

“Honey, you’re some old broad,” he said softly.

It was a statement of pure affection for her. His way of saying it. She watched him and felt her emotions tip the other way, and she knew that she would miss him.

He stripped off his shorts. He put his hands out and slipped her robe all the way open and looked her up and down. He came onto the bed, making the mattress tilt under his weight. She rolled against his naked hip.

His prick reached for the ceiling, as stiff and hard as she’d ever seen it. Oddly, by some magic kind of chemistry, she knew it was all for her.

She felt sorry for him suddenly. He was going to get terribly horny out on the rig. He claimed they stayed out there the whole month, but she didn’t know if she believed that or not.

Actually, it was all she wanted to believe. She didn’t want to know if they went into one of the little Gulf towns to get drunk and fuck horny pricks into whores on the weekends. She might care if she knew for sure.

Thinking about it would make her feel cheated somehow, and that was a dangerous feeling. So, as if it would somehow keep him from getting horny for the next month, she reached for his straining prick and parted her thighs and was determined to fuck his nuts dry before he left.

He put his hand out and touched her body with surprising tenderness. His palm smoothed up the length of her trim thigh. His fingertips teased at her cuntlips, slipped over her clit, smoothed up her flat tummy to her firm tits, more like a teenager’s like Nancy’s than like a mature woman’s tits.

Despite herself, she felt a slight stirring inside her body. Her cunt squirmed deep inside and went loose for a moment. She felt her thighs part even wider for the probing search of his finger.

He rolled her cuntlips, sweeping along the tender, pink, slick inner tissues, rimming her cuntal mouth. He slid it up her satiny gap to her clit and pressed inward gently.

He rolled the little organ until it was hard and sensitive. He grinned when she panted, and his prick throbbed rigidly when he saw the slick sheen of warm pussy juice come sliding from the mouth of her cunt.

“Like that, huh? They all like getting fingered. When you’ve got a fat finger like mine, they think it’s a prick, and they try to fuck their wet cunts down over it.”

A cool wind blew through her again. “Damn it, Gil, don’t talk. Don’t say things like…”

“Can’t wait, huh?” he grinned, his voice husky.

As usual, he’d wholly misinterpreted her feelings. It was the one thing she couldn’t stand about him. He was insensitive and just Goddamn crude. Not at all like their son, Bruce, thankfully. She didn’t know if she could stand having both of them being the way Gil was.

He climbed over her, panting with passion. He worked his stocky body between her tender, slim thighs. He dipped his hips and made his raging prick point toward the center of her cunt.

The pink, wet mouth sucked open with a sticky sound — the slurp of a well-fucked cunt after a night’s rest. The puffy pussylips spread apart as if they’d been trained to at the sight of his pulsing, swollen cockhead.

He dipped his hips again and made the velvety mushroom of his cockhead nose into the soft folds of her cuntal mouth. Then he couldn’t hold back and tease her with it any more.

He plowed into her pussy. His thick prick slid up her cunt and shoved all the way to the back of her tunnel, slipping through the warm juice and the silky tissues.

“Ahhhh, God!” he gasped heatedly.

He came against her fully, his chest settling over her swollen tits, his belly grazing the flat plane of her own stomach. Her pussylips clung to the sides of his dry shaft, and the tissues were pulled inward, making her wince from the soreness.

He began fucking. In and out, up and down, his hard prick impatient and unbelievably hard. Monica gasped and wrapped her arms around his broad back and twinged with each slide of his stiff cock along her sore, fucked-out cunt tunnel.

“Ohhhh, Gil — Gil…” she moaned.

“Baby! Monica! God, you’ve got the most fuckable cunt anywhere! I love you, honey!”

She bit her lower lip. She couldn’t ask him to stop now. She braced herself and rocked with his plunging thrusts and felt his prick stretch and pound inside her cunt and slide back and forth, reaching bottom, slipping back nearly to the mouth of her flaming pussy, then plowing in again.

His hips beat up and down upon hers, gently at first, and then more avidly as he got closer to coming.

His big hands mauled over her tits, rolling them, pinching the distended nipples. Then they scooped under her back and down to her round, tight asscheeks, and he fairly lifted her drenched cunt up around the shaft of his cock.

Her thighs split wide open and wrapped around his hips. She felt him heaving up and down. Her hand slid to his ass, and she felt the sturdy hairiness of it.

“Baby!” he gasped again. His wet lips became plastered against her cheek, and he puffed through the nostrils with hot breath. “Honey, you gonna come?” he gasped.

“You go ahead, Gil!”

“Come with me, baby! Blow your nuts! What’re you gonna do for a whole month if you don’t blow your nuts now!”

“I’ll be all right, Gil! Ohhh, darling — fuck it into me! Fill my cunt up again! Give me another gusher, Gil!”

“Ohhhh, man — the best! The fuckin’ best!”

Monica felt him build up steam. She knew he was going to come hard. She braced herself for the grinding, growling blast, clinging to him, nearly hanging from him.

It was all his fuck. There’d been a moment of heat for her, when he’d been rolling her clit, but that was gone now. It was all for him.

She made her cunt walls squeeze around his big prick. She sucked inward with her cunt and rocked her hips and shook her ass in his big hands.

She made her silky, wet cunt tunnel slide along his shaking shaft and milk it. The soreness was masked by a dull throb, and she knew the sooner he blasted his charge of hot cum into her pussy, the sooner the abrasion of her cunt walls would be over with.

“Ah! Ah, God! Monica! Jesus, what a cunt! God, honey, you’re the best fuck in the whole world, I swear it! And I love you besides! Christ! Ohhhh…”

He grunted and gasped. His hips and ass circled and pumped, making his rigid cock fuck deeper and deeper into her silk-lined pussy.

Somehow, though, over all the puffing and grunting in her ear, she heard Bruce outside the bedroom door, and she sucked in her breath and wanted to crawl under the bed with shame.

“Mom? Hey, Mom? What’s all this bacon and eggs out here? Can I eat some? I gotta get to school. Mom?”

Monica gasped and clamped her hands over Gil’s heaving ass, trying to get him to quit, wanting him to shut up.

He stopped. He lifted his head. He swore softly, still panting. “Go eat the Goddamn eggs!” he growled.

“Gil, don’t…” Monica whispered.

“Don’t, hell,” Gil growled at her. His prick throbbed wildly inside her cunt, spurting out little drops that mingled with her wet pussy juice.

“Oh, Gil — he knows you’re fucking me! Ohhhh, God! I want to stop, Gil! Ohhh, I’m so embarrassed!”

“Stop! Like hell! He doesn’t know we’re fucking. Christ, the little pansy could walk in and watch us and think we were wrestling. Stop, shit. Baby, nothing can stop the wad I’ve got in my balls right now. Ohhh, God — here it comes, baby! Catch! Drink it all up with your thirsty cunt!”

“Gil — Gil,” she gasped.

He pulled at her asscheeks again and made her wet, split-open cunt squish up around his cock.

He plowed all the way to the back of her cunt tunnel and began fucking her furiously again, building himself back to the point where he’d been.

Her pussy twitched and spasmed around his prick. She gasped and moaned. Her nipples thrust stiffly from the ends of her tits and punched against his heavy chest.

She couldn’t believe the immediate transformation in her body. Every nerve ending had come to screaming life. Every part of her attention was on the thrusting cock reaming into her split cunt and the sensations it was causing.

At the same time, she was totally aware of Bruce’s presence on the other side of the door and the fact that he must know that his mother was flat on her back being fucked.

Gil had started panting and growling again. She tried to keep him quiet. She couldn’t. She couldn’t keep quiet herself. She had never felt so open, so wanton.

“Gil! Gil!” she gasped. “Ohhhh, stop! We’ve got to stop! He can hear us! Ohhhh, stop!” she panted.

“Ahhhhh!” he growled, pounding into her cunt with his pile-driver prick.

Monica squeezed her eyes shut. She heard a thin sound from far off. She didn’t know what it was for a long moment. And then she knew it was herself.

Her hips swiveled and bucked. Her ass rolled in his hands. Her pussy tunnel flapped and sucked brazenly around his cock like the whoriest cunt there was.

Her body was aflame. He was bucking and throbbing inside her, and she was responding totally — all the while knowing that Bruce might be listening, wondering, imagining, visualizing, wanting.

“Eeeee!” she squealed, her voice high and thin.

“Oh, baby — baby!” Gil grabbed her tightly, overjoyed that she had decided to come with him after all.

“Gil! God! Eeeee-aaaaah!”

She clamped her arms tightly around his sturdy back and clung to him and let her body shudder and pulse with violent waves of throbbing orgasm.

Her pussy sucked and milked his cock, the tissues becoming a cavern of oiled silk, hot and frictionlessly slippery with the flood of juice pouring from her cunt walls.

It was more than he could bear. He lunged against her and planted his prick deep and let it explode with a mighty blast of hot white cum.

“YAAAAG!” he bellowed, squeezing the breath out of her lungs as he bucked and ground against her.

They both panted and gasped and squealed and growled, and she was aware of every sound, knowing they wept right through the door into Bruce’s young ears. Even the bed was rattling and squeaking and making their wild climaxes obvious to an idiot, which Bruce certainly wasn’t.

Gil rolled her and tossed her. She was under him one moment, on top of him the next, then under him again. His hips pounded into her spread thighs, and his cock hosed and spurted until her wet cunt wouldn’t hold any more.

Jism and cunt juice squirted between her cuntlips and bathed their thighs. Puddles were blotted on the bed as they rolled back and forth through them.

“God! God, baby!” Gil gasped finally.

He grinned from ear to ear. He was totally happy, completely fucked out. She was glad for that. She was happy to give him a good sendoff. But she’d never felt so embarrassed in her life.

“Honey — let me go now,” she said, trying to unravel herself from his bearish hug.

“What’s your rush, baby? Mmmm, that feels good, just soaking in all that hot juice in your slick pussy. Hey, come on — what’s your rush?”

“I’ve got to get Bruce off to school.”

“Ah, he can get himself off.” He grinned, making a crude pun of it, giving her tit a tweak at the same time.

“Please, Gil?” she said firmly.

He looked at her a moment, then released her. He slipped his prick from her wet cunt. Juice slid out with it. His cock was limp and tame now.

“Mothers,” he said with a shake of his head. His voice was gruff, but he gave her an affectionate smile all the same.

Monica stood up. Cum slipped from deep inside her cunt and clung to her pussylips. She squatted slightly and cupped her palm under her crotch and caught the string of jism just as it fell. She went into the bathroom and washed it off her hand and mopped at her sodden twat.

She came back out and slipped her housecoat back on. Gil was lying on his back with his eyes closed and his dick flopped over onto his thigh. He looked ready to go back to sleep and forget going to the rig.

She left him. He was a big boy. Besides, there was no real hurry. She wrapped the garment around her hips and went out the door, half-ashamed to see her son, afraid that she wouldn’t be able to look him straight in the eye after such noisy, obvious fucking.

“Hey, Mom — I was going to wear my checked jeans today. Are they in the washer or something?”

He came into the kitchen and looked at her. She looked back. He was wearing low-rise briefs and nothing else, and the pouch of them was very full.


Monica stared at her son. He had Gil’s light hair, although it was bleached nearly yellow from the sun. He had her slim build, her delicate features, her sensitivity.

But it was very clear at that moment that he had his father’s bull-sized cock.

She stared at the full pouch of his briefs. She tried to tear her eyes from it, but she couldn’t. The big prick attached to Gil’s stocky hips and full ass was a formidable-looking thing. The same cock on Bruce’s slim hips and tight, girlish ass would appear absolutely devastating.

She was his mother. But she stood there in her thin housecoat with her cunt throbbing from the wild orgasm she’d just had and her nipples still spiking through the flimsy material, and she felt herself shiver.

She couldn’t believe it! Thrilled sexually by the sight of her own son! And just after having her cunt split open by her husband’s blasting cock!

She shivered and tore her eyes away finally, clenching the housecoat tightly around her waist, unaware that it made the flare of her hips more prominent and the jut of her round ass more saucy.

She felt Bruce’s eyes on her body, and she looked back quickly. He was licking his lips. His eyes flicked upward to hers, then away.

He had been staring at her body! Was he imagining the way it had just been fucked by his father? Was his cock lifting and thickening inside his briefs right now, or was she just imagining it?

“…Bruce.” She turned away again, flushing all-over, tingling from head to toe. “Yes, honey, I washed them last night,” she said, her voice strange to her own ears. “I-I’ll get them for you out of the dryer.”

“I’ll get them, Mom,” he said.

She was hurrying to the laundry room. He followed her. She bent over to pull the jeans from the dryer. Her robe gaped open, and one of her tits fell firmly through the slit, spiked, red nipple and all.

She looked around quickly. He was staring at the firm cone. Her eyes were on a level with his crotch, and she couldn’t possibly help seeing the sudden twitch of his cock, the formed line of it, the ridge at the end, running around his cockhead. The cotton briefs outlined everything, even the weight of his balls.

She tucked her tit back into the housecoat. She gave him a sickly smile. “Oops,” she said.

He reached down for the pants. His prick swept along the side of her hip, and she could feel the ridge of the cockhead through the thin garments they wore.

He jumped back self-consciously, flushing all over, and there was no way he could hide the sudden throb of his prick, the filling of his briefs.

“Mom…” he gasped, turning his hips to the side to hide his filling cock.

“Here are your pants, Bruce,” Monica said firmly, nearly gruffly. Her voice was scratchy and thick, and she didn’t know which of them was more embarrassed at that moment.

He took the pants. He held them in front of him and seemed relieved that he wasn’t on such display. His eyes kept flicking to the hem of her housecoat.

“Do you need a shirt too, Bruce?” she asked, wondering what he was looking at now. Was her cunt showing? God, she should just throw the damn housecoat away!

He pointed hesitantly and then decided not to. “You’ve got something…”

She glanced down and nearly fainted with embarrassment. A glistening trail of cum and pussy juice was running down the inside of her thigh.

“You all right, Mom?”

“Go eat your breakfast, Bruce!” she half yelled at him.

“I already ate, Mom,” he said, cowering back from her sudden outburst. “While you and Dad were…” He swallowed down a big lump and couldn’t keep looking at her.

“Then go get dressed, damn it!”

He swallowed again, looked terribly sheepish and injured, then turned and hurried back into the other part of the house.

Monica stood there and watched him, seeing the big lumps his balls made in the shorts, even when he was headed the other direction. She moaned heatedly and felt tingly all over.

She couldn’t believe the way her heart was pounding. She couldn’t stand the way her cuntlips swelled and shifted and opened and closed over the draining mouth of her cunt hole.

She pressed her pussy against the smooth, hard corner of the washing machine and fucked up against it hard, letting out another moan.

She was terrible! Her own son! Her cunt was slobbering down her thighs at the sight of her own son!

She pressed her hand against her watering twat. Even that wasn’t enough. She turned her back to the doorway and bent over as if taking more clothes from the dryer and thrust her head into the gaping front of her robe.

She squeezed her whole crotch tightly, shaking it, feeling the fur and the wetness. She fucked her finger into her cunt and didn’t mind the soreness. Her thumb rolled over her shamelessly straining clit, and electric jolts shot through her body and made her gasp with terrible heat.

She stood up. She looked back at the doorway. She licked her lips. She moved quickly and shut the door. She leaned against the corner and braced her fret on the floor and tipped her pelvis up.

She closed her eyes and shoved her hips forward and fucked her finger all the way up her sodden cunt. She jiggled her clit with her other hand.

Her robe gaped all the way open. Her arms squeezed in against the sides of her tits and made them thrust in firm, tight cones. Her nipples swelled with passion and jutted from the ends of her tits.

Her asscheeks bumped softly against the wall as she pumped her hips against her hands and masturbated with savage intensity.

She tried to make her shame stop her from doing this, but her body was aflame. Still, or again, she wasn’t sure. Suddenly, it didn’t matter which. There was only her heat, her lust, her incredible need to come.

It didn’t matter whether she was still hot from Gil’s fucking big prick or the sight of her son’s surely virginal one. She had to come again, and she was going to.

It came fast. Her hips canted outward, thrusting her naked, flaming pussy through the halves of the robe. Her tits jiggled wantonly on her chest. Her knees flexed, and her thighs quivered. Juice squished out around her cunt-embedded finger, and her clit felt as if it would explode and burst into flame.

“Ahhhhh, God!” she screamed tightly, doing it as quietly as she could.

Dizzying waves of orgasm rushed through her body and made her shiver all over. It was lucky she was propped by the two walls making the corner of the room, or she would have fallen over. Her knees gave way, and her legs wouldn’t hold her any more.

She slid down the wall, gasping and shivering, her finger twirling and fucking in her spasming cunt, her other hand rolling and pinching at her clit and all over her mound.

Her knees came up and spread to the sides as she slid to the floor on her ass. Her cunt mouth gaped wide. The tissues were flaming pink and glistened with dripping cunt juice. Her fingers made shameful sounds of wetness at her pussy mouth.

She gasped and mewed until it was all over, and then she let out a deep sigh.

She huddled there on the floor in the corner and looked at the cold white porcelain machines and felt utterly depraved.

“Monica?” Gil called, the sound faint through the closed door. “Hey, baby — where the hell’d you go?”

She sat there. Her cunt squeezed around the knuckle of her finger, as if trying to push the finger out and make her stand and pull the robe around her body and look busy and innocent.

She didn’t give a damn. Let him find her like this. What would he do? Get hot and fuck her again? Raise hell?

She didn’t budge until the last moment, and then some shred of decency still left inside her made her scramble to her feet and toss the clothes from the dryer into the plastic basket just when he opened the door and saw her.

“Ya deaf?” he groused. “Come on, do that crap when I’m gone. Fix me some more breakfast. That damn pansy ate half of it.”

She turned and looked at him. He was fully dressed and ready to leave now. The kindness of a few moments before had been replaced by the crudeness she couldn’t stand again.

She straightened up and looked at him squarely. “Bruce is not a pansy,” she said firmly, challengingly.

She was ready to tell him how she knew. She knew it by the way his huge cock had begun to swell at the sight of his mother’s naked tit. She knew it by the throb of his virginal cock brushing against the side of her hip.

Gil looked belligerent for a moment and then backed off from the brewing fight. “All right, he’s not a pansy,” he said with a wave of his arm. “Fix the breakfast anyway, huh?”

They went into the kitchen. He sat at the table and waited for her to finish cooking more breakfast. Bruce came through, dressed in the checked jeans. He avoided Monica’s eyes. He started to give her the little kiss he always did before leaving for school and then didn’t.

“Go on,” Gil taunted. “Don’t mind me, honey. Kiss Mom bye-bye.” He shoved another forkful of eggs into his mouth and grinned.


“Listen, kid, lemme tell you something. You oughta be kissin’ that cute little twat — that Nancy, instead of your mother. You’re gonna give somebody the wrong ideas, see?”

He laughed and stuffed his mouth again, holding his fork like a stabbing instrument. Bruce made a sound of agony and turned aside, ready to run from the house.

“Gil, that’s enough!” Monica cried. “Bruce, you come back here!”

He stopped, but he didn’t come back. Monica went after him, into the other room, where Gil couldn’t see or hear them.

“Damn it, I wish he’d lay off me, Mom!” Bruce whispered with a strangled sound, close to tears.

Monica put her arms around her son and hugged him tightly, smoothing her hand over his forehead as if he were still a small boy.

“Oh, honey, I wish he would too. But he won’t. It’s his crude way, sweetie. You’ll just have to be a big boy and learn to take it, that’s all.”

Her tits were pressed tightly against him. It was natural and good at first, and then they both became aware of the heat passing between them, of the remembered sights of each other’s bodies just a few moments before, and the warm, soft contact took on a new and scary meaning.

“Mom…” he whispered, licking suddenly dry lips.

Monica backed away from him quickly. She didn’t know if that were better or not. Now he was starring at the ends of her tits, and he could see that the nipples were spiked and rubbery and stiff.

“Mom…” he said again.

“Bruce, stop looking at my tits that way. You have no right to, Bruce. I’m your mother, Bruce.” Her words were quick and breathy, and she tingled all over.

“Maybe your father’s right for once, Bruce. Maybe you shouldn’t be kissing me any more. Maybe you should pay more attention to Nancy than you do. You do like her, don’t you, Bruce?”

“You know I do, Mom! But I just… Mom, I don’t mean to stare at your tits, but I… oh, Mom!” he wailed.

He started to turn away again, obviously in torment. She couldn’t bear to let him leave in that state. She grabbed him and hugged him again and kissed him fully on the mouth, hard, with far too much passion, having to break it off with a heated gasp.

“Bruce, we’ll talk about it when you get home,” she said quickly. “We’ll work something out. We’ll talk about it, darling. Go to school. Don’t worry. Don’t be upset. Aunt Vicky’s coming this afternoon. Maybe she can… maybe she… we’ll talk about it, honey.”

She pushed at him. She wanted him out of the house now, before she hugged him again and pressed her tits against his manly chest and did crazy things that she would never be able to justify.

He turned and left. She stood there, her hands clasped together and pressing inward against her tingling cunt. She didn’t know why she’d mentioned Vicky. She wished she hadn’t. She didn’t need her sister to help her raise her son.

But it had always been that way between her and Vicky. Vicky was the leader. The one confused little Monica went to for help. The one Monica always had obeyed, no matter how crazy the order. It had been that way all the time they’d spent growing up together, and the whole syndrome was returning to her again.

Gil came in and interrupted her thoughts. He carried his suitcase and was smoking a cigarette, sucking on it as it dangled from his lips.

“No more ass. Damn near the last butt. I don’t know why the hell I stay with this Goddamn job,” he said. He grinned at her, totally oblivious to the way she felt right then. “Guess I’ll go out and wait for Duke to pick me up. If I stay in here, I’ll just end up draggin’ you back to the sack and fuckin’ another load up that sweet wet pussy of yours.”

She smiled quickly, having to force it. “I don’t think my sore pussy could take your big prick again, honey,” she said.

She reached up and took the cigarette from his mouth and kissed him lightly. It seemed cold and sterile to her, compared to the one she’d just given her son. It frightened her. What was happening to her! She kissed him again, lips parted and soft, tongue thrusting into his mouth.

“Hey, now,” he breathed huskily after it was over. He put his arm around her waist and let the suitcase drop to the floor.

“Gil — Gil, there’s not enough time. Gil, don’t get started,” she said, trying to back away from him.

“I’m started,” he said. “Oh, baby, it’s gettin’ bigger by the second. God, honey — gimme a quick one. One last fuck.”

“Oh, Gil…” she moaned, damning herself.

He pulled her toward the couch, unzipping his fly on the way. His big prick sprang out, stiff and throbbing again. She looked at it and moaned inside.

He sat on the couch, his legs spread. He pulled her to her knees on the floor. “Real quick,” he gasped, holding his prick toward her face. “Gimme a quick blow with those soft lips, Monica.”

“Come on — come on! Duke’s comin’ any minute. Baby, you gotta! You want me leaving here with a hard-on like this?”

She looked at his hard-on. She didn’t give a damn what he did.

“Baby, listen — I’m sorry about Bruce. I thought over what I been doin’ to him. It ain’t right. I see that. Tell him I’m sorry, will ya? I’ll quit riding him, I promise.”

She looked at him. “Do you mean that, Gil?”


“You’re not just buttering me up?”

“Hey, come on. I don’t crap around when I say something serious like that, and you know it.”

That was true. She looked into his eyes. His prick throbbed right over her chin. He was telling her the truth. How she knew she wasn’t sure, but she knew.

“I love you for that, Gil,” she said softly.

She reached out and took his prick in her hand. She jacked it a moment. It pulsed and beat under her fingers. She licked her lips and parted them.

A tiny sound came from her mouth when she opened it. She stretched her jaws wide. She pursed her soft lips and fucked the warm, wet cavern of her mouth down over the head of his cock.

“Ahhh, God!” he groaned, tipping his head back and fucking his hips upward. He put his big hands gently at the back of her head and tangled his fingers in her hair.

Monica knelt on the floor between his legs and sucked his prick. She did it lovingly. It surprised her. She’d been ready to bite it off a moment ago.

She wished there were more stability in her feelings toward Gil, but it had been this way from the beginning — hating him one moment and loving him the next.

Her head bobbed under his hands. Her tongue wrapped around the sensitive underside of his cock and milked the strong, stiff shaft. Her lips squeezed and sucked, and she pulled them off and looked up at him, watching him gasp with the sudden removal of her mouth.

“Promise, Gil?” she asked. “Promise you won’t ride him any more?”

“God, yes! Ohhhh, don’t stop, baby! Don’t stop! Christ, I’d promise you anything right now, and you know it!”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she said.

He grabbed for her. “Hey, I mean it! No shit, baby, no shit!”

That was his version of an absolute pledge. It was good enough for her. She opened her mouth and sucked it down over his straining, throbbing prick again.

Her head bobbed faster and faster. She gave him a good sucking, one that would last. She couldn’t believe that his balls were full again. All night, and then this morning.

He gasped and moaned and fucked his hips up at her mouth. His big prick was a throat-filler. Her cheeks bulged. Her tongue worked over his shaft and the velvety, swollen head again and again.

Suddenly, it wasn’t his prick any more. It was Bruce’s. In her mind, it was the virginal, smooth cock of her son.

Her cunt burst into flames. She let out a muffled moan and thrust her hand between her legs and squeezed her cunt tightly. The tingling got worse, grew stronger.

Then she couldn’t believe her own cunt, either. Her clit sprouted down from the top of her cleft and reached for her fingers. She swirled her hand over her cunt and moaned and sucked on his solid shaft until the big, swollen head was bumping at the back of her throat and threatening to gag her.

“Ah! Ah!” he gasped. “God, it’s terrific! Baby, you’re really doing it this time! God, honey! Do it!”

All the way! Just this once, baby, all the way.

Her emotions spun. She’d never sucked him all the way off before lust once, then never again. She didn’t like the taste and feel of his cum in her mouth.

When she sucked him, she blew him to the point of orgasm and then pulled her mouth off and jacked the pulsing white jets of jism from his prick.

They had both come to accept that kind of finish. It was understood when she’d started just now that that was the way it would finish again.

But something was different this time. The thought that she was sucking her son’s prick made it all different, and her head spun with dizzying sensations and thoughts and images.

She drew and sucked. Her fingers twirled over her clit. It was going to happen any moment. She could feel his prick throbbing threateningly. Already, he was pressing at her forehead to assist her in pulling away so that he could blast into her hand.

But she resisted his pressure. He gasped again and again, not knowing what to make of it. Then his hands slid around to the back of her head, just resting there as she bobbed up and down, not forcing her.

There was that curious mixture again. If he’d forced her, she would have fought with him. It was so strange how he could be crude one moment and gentle the next. A real stinker and yet lovable.

“Honey, honey, honey!” he gasped. “I’m gonna come! Baby, it’s right there! Honey, take your mouth… ohhhhhh, don’t take your mouth… God! Oh, God! Here it — YAAAGH!”

His bellow shook the house. His hips lunged up from the couch. His prick swelled to unbelievable proportions in her mouth and throbbed violently.

Monica squeezed her eyes tightly shut and felt her own orgasm surge through her body at the same time. She moaned and squealed around his pulsing prick as the first jet splashed against the back of her throat and slid down into her belly.

Bruce! Bruce’s cum!

The thought blazed through her mind and made her orgasm terribly intense, and she swallowed all the cum Gil poured through his prick into her mouth.

Maybe it was the repetition. This was the third time this morning she had come over — images of her son. It didn’t seem quite as shocking and depraved the third time. Besides, as long as she only imagined it, what harm was there — what harm?

“Oh, Christ, Monica!” Gil gasped when it was over, hugging her so tightly she thought her neck would pop. “Baby, you did it! I love you! I love you!”

She nestled between his thighs and gasped against his belly. “You made me a promise, Gil.”

“I did! I sure did! And I’ll make it again and again if you’ll [missing text].”

“Maybe, darling — maybe,” she said, smiling up at him, swallowing over and over.

A car horn blared at the front of the house. She pushed back and got up, standing between his legs still, wrapping the housecoat around her waist.

“Damn,” Gil said wistfully. He grinned at her. “Now I’m gonna be horny for a whole month, just thinking about right now, waiting for the next time. You shouldn’t have done that, baby.”

Monica watched him stuff his stiff prick into his pants. He had to bend it to get it through the slit. She licked her lips and swallowed again, trying to get rid of the taste of his cum. She was beginning to think she shouldn’t have done it herself.

She stood in the doorway and watched Gil climb into Duke’s car. There were two other men in it Gil waved at her. He’d never done it with such fervor before. The car backed out and goosed down the street, and she looked after it until it was out of sight.

A month. A whole month without him.

She moved through the house to the bedroom. She stripped off the housecoat and went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. She brushed her teeth while it ran and warmed.

She looked at herself in the mirror, seeing the jut of her firm tits, the side of her red nipples poking from the ends. She straightened and ran her eyes over her curving waist and the flare of her hips. She looked directly at her cunt and saw the teak-brown triangle of pubic hair, the puffy cuntlips, the pinkish separation between them, still glistening with cunt juice.

She shivered slightly. She still didn’t know what to feel at having him gone. She was going to get horny. She knew she was. She always did. A healthy woman couldn’t go a month without getting horny.

She’d always masturbated before, when it got too bad for her to stand, when she started looking at every man who came toward her.

But this time.

Something was different this time. She felt it clear at the back of her cunt.

The moment with Bruce had made it different.


“Monica darling.”


The sisters squealed and flung their arms around each other and turned a circle just inside the doorway. Then they straight-armed each other and beamed and looked each other up and down happily.

“Six years, Vicky!”

“I know. Too long, Monica, too long. Christ, I thought I’d never get back home. All the red tape. God, you wouldn’t believe it!”

Monica looked at her sister closely. It was like looking into a mirror still. Except for the hair. Vicky’s was long. She still had a deep tan, too, although Monica had been working on hers.

“Are you all right, Vicky?” she asked.

Vicky shrugged. “Me? Sure. I’m a hard nut. You know that. You were the softie between us.” She detached herself and nosed her way toward the kitchen. “I need a drink. It’s a long way from Venezuela to here.”

“Sure, Vicky,” Monica said, hurrying ahead. She was dimly aware of hopping for Vicky already. Just like old times.

Vicky lounged in a chair and sipped her drink and sighed. “It’s good to be back home,” she said finally, her voice soft. “I don’t know how I ever let Stan talk me into going to Venezuela.”

“It’s where the oil is, I guess. Gil was just wondering this morning why he spent a month at a time out on the rig.”

“Yeah. A couple of crazy bastards, Stan and Gil. And we suffer for it.”

“I wish we could have been there when Stan…”

Vicky looked at her sister. She smiled wanly. “You can say it, honey. He’s been dead six weeks now. It was hard at first. But he’s gone and I’m alive, and you keep on.”

“We just couldn’t afford to go.”

“I know. It doesn’t matter.” She took another sip and straightened up slightly. “Well, how are you and Gil doing? Really doing, I mean, Monica.”

“Oh — you know.”

Vicky laughed. “Still don’t know how to handle that big fucker, do you! When are you going to learn, twin sister?”

Monica laughed with her. “Maybe I need some help,” she said.

The smile slid from her face. She didn’t know what had made her say a thing like that. Vicky looked at her curiously, sipping at her drink, watching Monica over the rim of the glass.

“And how’s little Brucie these days? He must have grown some since the last time I saw him, huh?”

“And how,” Monica said. She couldn’t help a little shiver.

“Oh?” Vicky grinned. “Like that, is it? Got his papa’s prick? Monica, you little devil, I didn’t think you’d ever have it in you!”

Monica flushed all over. “Now, just what do you mean by that?”

“You know what I mean, honey,” Vicky said, thrusting up with her hips in a vulgar bump. “I mean, what the hell? With Gil gone a month at a time… no muss, no fuss, no sticky entanglements of the kind I had too many of… makes me wish I’d had Stan punch a boy kid into me a long time ago.”


Vicky tipped her head back and laughed with a rich, throaty sound. Her eyes sparkled, just the way they always had. She sat in the chair and began to ooze that sultry come-fuck-me manner she always had.

“Tell me, Monica,” she said intimately. “You can tell your twin sister. Has he got Gil’s big fat prick?”

“What do you know about Gil’s big prick?” Monica cried defensively, the old doubts coursing through her again.

“Why, honey — you’ve told me about it often enough, don’t you remember?”

“You tell me, Vicky,” Monica said cleverly. “Have you ever let Gil fuck that big prick into you?”

Vicky sat forward. They looked into each other’s eyes. It was like the game from years ago.

“You tell me, and I’ll tell you,” Vicky said.

“You have fucked Bruce!” Vicky cried with delight.

Monica flushed wildly. “I mean no, I hadn’t!”

“Well, I haven’t let your husband jab his big fat prick into my pussy, either.”

Monica looked at the smile toying at the corners of her sister’s mouth. This was always a game of honesty between them, no matter how much it had hurt to tell the truth.

But six years had gone by. They were both grown women now, not children playing a game. The rules could have changed. Monica wasn’t quite sure. Knowing how Gil and Vicky both were, she would never be quite sure.

“Tell me, then,” Vicky said, sitting back again. “How do you know Bruce has a big prick? Have you been peeking at him? Watch him jack off? See him fuck his girl there on the couch one night? How? Oooo, you’ve got to tell me!”

She shivered all over with a sexual tingle, and Gil’s words passed through Monica’s mind — how horny Vicky must be after six weeks without Stan to fuck her.

“I…” Monica shrugged, looking away, letting out a little shiver of her own. She looked directly back. “Vicky, damn you, you haven’t changed one little bit! All you ever talked or thought about was sex, and you’re still doing it!”

“What else is there, honey?” Vicky laughed. “You just wait until you have to go without it and see how wide-ranging your thoughts become.”

“You’ve never gone without a cock up your pussy for more than a week in your life, and you know it.”

Vicky finished her drink. She sighed. She put the glass carefully on the little table beside the chair, and she looked at a spot somewhere near the floor and spoke softly.

“You’re not going to believe this, Monica. But, since Stan… I don’t know. Something’s different. I can’t put my finger on it yet, but something’s different.”

Monica looked at her sister and didn’t know what to say. She was telling the truth. Yet, it was nearly too much to believe.

“You mean — you’ve gone for six weeks without…” Vicky grinned wryly and looked up. “No. Not for six weeks. Hell, I’m not that kind of masochist. But it’s different. I don’t feel right with just a prick fucking up into my cunt. Oh, I get hot and I come and squeal and carry on the way I always did. But afterwards, it just… I keep remembering Stan…”

She put her hand to her face. Monica really didn’t know what to do or say now. This was totally unlike Vicky. She tried to imagine what it would be like if Gil were killed out on the job the way Stan had been, and a shiver of loneliness swept over her.

She got up and went to her sister. She cradled Vicky’s head against her lap and smoothed her hand over the brown hair, seeing the sun-bleached highlights in it.

Vicky tossed her head up and smiled wryly. “Mother Monica,” she said. “You haven’t changed either, honey. I’m glad. I’d thought maybe things would be different between us after six years. I was frightened by the thought. I’m glad they aren’t.”

“Me too, Vicky,” Monica said.

She looked down at her sister’s face. God, it was like looking into a mirror! Only it was a hot mirror. An oozing, sultry, come-fuck-me mirror.

“Vicky…” Monica whispered.

Vicky licked her lips. She opened her mouth. She started to say it, and then Bruce came into the house from school, letting the screen door bang shut, startling the sisters. He appeared around the corner and stopped dead still, looking at them.

“Aunt Vicky!” he cried happily, his face lighting up.

Monica didn’t look at him. For some reason, she watched her sister’s face as Vicky turned her head to greet her nephew.

“Brucie! My God — look at you! A man! Monica, you devil, you didn’t tell me! You didn’t really prepare me!”

Vicky sprang from the chair and ran into Bruce’s arms. Monica watched them with a funny feeling. It was like watching herself hug her son, only with the difference that Vicky could put into the act.

Her firm tits mashed against Bruce’s chest. Her lips parted as she tipped her face up and drew Bruce’s head down. The kiss was long and hot and far too passionate. It made Monica squirm. It reminded her of the kiss she’d given Bruce just this morning.

“Mmmmm, what a man!” Vicky cried, tearing her mouth away from his finally. She continued hugging up against him, rolling her tits over his chest, cupping his thighs with hers, probably trying to get a feel of the size of his prick the way she was so skilled at doing.

“Gosh, I can’t believe it, Mom!” Bruce choked, trying to act normally in spite of the wealth of womanly flesh pressing and rolling sensually against his virginal body. “You look exactly alike!”

“How am I going to tell you apart?”

Vicky gave Monica a funny look, a teasing look. “Why would you need to tell us apart, darling?” site said.

“Vicky…” Monica began.

“Your mother and I used to fool people all the time, hasn’t she ever told you? We used to make a game of it, and it was a riot.”


“All I’d have to do is lose a little more of my tan and cut my hair shorter, and — and you wouldn’t know your mother from your Aunt Vicky! What would you think of that, Bruce?” she smiled broadly, turning back to him, making her tit press obviously into his arm.

“I-I…” Bruce stammered, licking his lips. He looked from his aunt to his mother. Monica couldn’t help looking at his crotch.

The checked jeans were pulled tightly over his prick and balls. She nearly stared. God — oh, God! Was he getting a hard-on?

Her mouth fell open. She looked from her son to her twin sister and felt tingles shoot all through her body and make her cunt twitch.

It was already happening. It was already getting out of control, just the way she’d been afraid it would. Only it wasn’t Gil she was going to have to worry about.

It was her son.

Vicky opened the bathroom door, and steam from the shower billowed into the bedroom behind her. She had a fluffy yellow towel wrapped around her succulent body. Her skin was scrubbed and healthy-looking, and Monica was pleased with how beautiful she looked. It meant that she looked just as beautiful herself.

“Mmmmm, that felt delicious,” Vicky said, rubbing her body with the towel.

She cupped her tits with it, drying the undersides of the firm cones. Her nipples were distended and full. She patted the towel around her waist and the sides of her hips and wiped the glistening droplets from her full, tight asscheeks.

Monica lay in the big bed and watched her sister. She squeezed her thighs together under the sheet and tried to still the tingling in her cunt.

Memory flooded through her. She felt oddly in the past right now, watching Vicky getting ready to come to bed with her. And then her time sense would jump to the present again, and she would realize they weren’t children any more, sleeping in the double bed upstairs in the old house.

This was Gil’s bed. Hers and Gil’s, not hers and Vicky’s. She wondered if Gil got as much pleasure from watching her dry herself after a shower.

“You still sleep in a nightie, huh?” Vicky smiled.

“And you still sleep naked?”

“It’s the only way, honey.”

She flipped the towel to the side and stood before Monica in all her scrubbed, preserved beauty. Monica stared at her sister’s pussy. She couldn’t help it. The brown triangle of pubic hair was missing, and there were only puffy, soft, sweet-looking cuntlips.

“Like it?” Vicky smiled, parting her thighs, canting her pelvis forward, putting her hands saucily on her hips.

“Vicky, I…” Monica stammered. She squeezed her thighs together tightly under the sheet, but the tingling in her cunt only became worse.

“You should shave your cunt too, honey. You’d be amazed what it does to men. They want to eat it and eat it and lick their tongues all over the hairless lips.”

“They-they do?” Monica gasped.

Vicky laughed throatily. “Honey, any time you get tired of getting Gil’s big cock fucked up your hole, just shave. You’ll see what I mean.”

Vicky moved one hand from her hip. She smoothed it over her flat tummy and stroked slowly down her abdomen, fingers extended, toward the top of her puffy cunt mound.

“Look, Monica,” she said huskily. “Watch. Tell me if it doesn’t make you want to lick and suck my pussy yourself.”

Monica stared. She couldn’t help it. The sight was terribly erotic. The tips of Vicky’s fingers traced over the swollen cuntlips, indenting the puffy flesh.

They separated the bloated flaps slightly, and there was a moist suck as pink tissues appeared inside the satiny cleft. Vicky squatted slightly, parting her thighs more, making her pussylips spread wider and her silken hole come into view between the bald petals.

The tip of her finger traced up the oiled, glistening gap and reached her clit. With no hair to hide it, Monica could see the tented fold and the straining little nub peeping from under it as her sister’s finger gave it a twirl. She gasped and let out a soft moan and half closed her eyes.

“Vicky…” Monica breathed.

The memories were stronger now. It was just as if they’d never been separated, never gotten married and gone apart to lead their own lives.

“Mmmm, Monica,” Vicky sighed, rolling her finger around the tip of her clit again and again.

The circle widened. Her pussy hole began to leak slippery, warm, glistening juice. Monica stared breathlessly and watched the puffy cuntlips bloat and separate even more.

“Vicky, don’t do that,” she whispered.

“I want to, honey. It feels good. Do it to yourself and see if it doesn’t feel good.”

“Vicky, stop. We’re not kids any more.”

“Oh, you remember,” Vicky sighed, tipping her head back slightly, her eyes hooding even more. There was a soft smile on her lips, an expression of growing bliss. “I was hoping you hadn’t forgotten, honey. That would be an insult to forget. They were good times we had, weren’t they?”

Monica gasped. She tore her eyes from the sight of her sister’s masturbating finger, her bald pussy, the red, swollen, wet, slippery tissues of her cunt mouth.

She remembered. She would never forget the way Vicky had been, starting at thirteen, when she had first discovered the tingles and joys of sex.

As in everything between them, Vicky had been the boss, the leader, the one who said what happened. And Monica had been the hesitant one, the frightened one, trying to stop her sister from wild acts.

It had been like a drug back then — the sights, the soft moans, the excited tingles that demanded even more. She’d watched Vicky masturbate to orgasm night after night, until her own body was screaming for the chance to experience the convulsions and the bloated flesh and the slippery, musky oils seeping from her virginal cunt hole.

“Remember the first time, Monica?” Vicky moaned softly, her finger swirling and circling over her stiff, throbbing clit.

She moaned and shivered and cupped her crotch firmly, shaking it. She tossed the covers back on her side of the bed and spun onto her back next to Monica.

Her legs parted widely, one of them lifting and coming over Monica’s. Even through the sheet, the touch of it was burning hot.

Monica gasped and stared again. She could see the sharp tilt of her sister’s firm tits, thrusting up from her chest. She could see the heave and pulse of her flat stomach, the soft rounding of her hairless cunt mound down into the cupping palm of her hand.

“Ohhhh, God, do you remember, Monica?” she moaned again.

Her hips lifted and circled. Her pelvis canted up, and she fitted her wet, silky cunt more tightly into her hand. Then she began shaking her hand up and down over her pussy in earnest, and there was no doubt in Monica’s mind that her sister was going to masturbate all the way, right there beside her.

“I remember, Vicky,” she whispered heatedly.

She wished her body wouldn’t tingle so. It shouldn’t tingle. She shouldn’t be getting hot. She’d come and come, last night with Gil and this morning with thoughts of Bruce. Now she was getting hot over the sight of her sister’s heaving, sucking cunt.

“You didn’t have the nerve to fuck it yourself, remember? You were afraid. You thought it was dirty. I had to do it for you. Remember, Monica? Remember how it felt when you came for me for the first time?”

“Y-Yes, Vicky,” she gulped.

It was happening. She was going right back to that psychological state. She was growing weaker and weaker. She knew she should assert herself and tell Vicky to stop or get out and sleep in the empty bedroom.

She opened her mouth to do it. Nothing came out. Her pulse raced, and her heart pounded violently. She crossed her thighs high up and squeezed them together until her cuntlips were flattened against each other and juice spurted from between them and smeared over her satiny flesh.

“Ohhhh, Vicky — stop! Stop!” she gasped.

The sound was weak and unconvincing. Vicky didn’t stop. She groaned heatedly and fucked two fingers up her cunt hole and rolled her clit with her thumb.

The sounds coming from her cunt mouth were unbelievable. It sounded as if she were sloshing her laundry around in her wet cunt.

Her arms squeezed in at the sides of her tits and made the mounds thrust upward and jiggle. The nipples stretched far from the tips of the white cones and throbbed like ruby beacons, begging to be sucked.

Monica stared at them and shivered all over with a flood of memory. She had sucked those nipples before. She had drawn on them avidly, flipping the rubbery nubs with the tip of her tongue, feeling the pulse of them between her soft, hot ups.

She, parted her lips now. She licked them with her tongue. Hot breath came from her mouth. She moaned as she stared at Vicky’s hot nipples, and she remembered clearly.

“Oh-h-h, don’t…” she moaned pleadingly, one more time.

“Oh, Monica — I’m so hot! Don’t make me stop! You don’t know what it’s like to lose your husband. I need… God, I need it so bad! Help me, Monica! Finger my pussy! Fuck me! Suck my pussy! Ohhhh, make me come! You used to! We used to do it together, don’t you remember?”

“Yes! Yes! God, I remember! But it’s over, Vicky! We’re not kids any more! And it isn’t right! It was never right! We’re two women!”

“You mean you’ve never done it with any girl but me?”

“No! God, no!”

Vicky turned her head. She thrust her fingers deeply into her pussy and left them there, making small circles with her hips to maintain the sliding friction in her cunt.

“What if I were your brother instead of your sister, Monica? Would it be right then?”

Monica gasped. “Oh, God…”

“Or your son!”


Monica gasped until she thought she wouldn’t ever get enough air in her lungs. Everything was going in circles in her mind. Even the room seemed to be spinning.

“Imagine I’m Bruce lying here next to you. Think of my big, fat, hard prick, smooth and white and virginal. Think of the way it would be throbbing and aching to fuck all the way up your wet little cunt right now! Think of it, Monica!”

“Vicky, stop! God — stop!” Monica wailed.

“You, have thought of it,” Vicky chuckled huskily. “Ohhhh, Monica, you should see your face right now, darling! Ohhhh, God — if I had that big cock jutting out of my pussy hole right now, you’d get it all, clear to the back of your sweet, shaking cunt!”

“Ohhhh, Jesus — stop talking like that!”

“Let me see it,” Vicky said breathily. She reached out and flipped the covers from Monica’s body. “Ohhhh, let me see how wet your cunt is right now!”

She lifted the hem of her sister’s nightie and gazed down between her thighs. She hissed softly with in drawn breath and shook her fingers inside her sopping cunt again and again.

“God, honey — I remember it. Ohhh, it’s still a pretty pussy after all these years, after all the fat prick Gil’s fucked up it again and again.”

“Vicky, don’t — please, please don’t…” Monica whimpered, feeling all resistance seep away from her with each drop of cunt juice seeping from her sweltering hole and coating her pussy lips and pubic curls.

Vicky reached out slowly. Monica watched the hand come. She knew what it was going to do. She remembered. Her breath sucked in, and her heart pounded. Her cunt throbbed and squirmed and sucked with involuntary spasms of anticipation.

Vicky’s fingers brushed through the damp curls. They circled. They slid up and down the hollows of thigh and torso, teasing. Monica’s hips lifted involuntarily.

“That’s the way, darling,” Vicky whispered softly. “That’s the way you used to do it. You didn’t want me to touch, but you just couldn’t resist. I’m glad it’s still that way, Monica. I’m glad.”

Monica groaned loudly. She tried to make words of protest out of the sound, but it was just a groan. She could feel her cuntlips bloating to impossible puffiness, separating, parting, two protective petals swelling aside to end their protection and bare the juicy, red, silky hole of her pussy mouth.

Vicky watched her sister. There was a smile of happiness and satisfaction on her soft lips. There was a hooded, lustful quality to her eyes. Her own long hair fell silkily over her shoulder and trailed erotically over Monica’s thighs.

Her fingertips still teased and taunted, moving and caressing all about Monica’s puffed cunt mouth.

“Are you ready, darling?” she asked softly. “I’m going to touch your pussy now. I’m going to slide the tip of my finger right up into that silken, wet groove. I’m going to twirl the tip of your hot, straining clit. The magic is still in the tips of my fingers, Monica. I’m going to make you come hard with them, just the way you used to do.”

“Ohhhh…” Monica groaned, unable to do anything but lie there and watch her sister watch her.

If she had felt vulnerable and shameless the first time, many years ago, when Vicky had done the same thing to her and had said the same things to make her unbearably hot, it was nothing to what she felt right now. There might have been some excuse for what they’d done as children. Virgins, experimenting, learning the sensations and discovering the exciting mysteries of sex.

But there wasn’t any excuse like that now. She didn’t even have the excuse of being horny. It was just Vicky — just the relationship between them that was still there and now seemed likely to always be there.

“Here they go, Monica,” Vicky whispered, her voice hot and filled with urgent undertones.

Monica gasped. A loud wailing moan escaped her lips. She hissed breath and snorted through her nose. Her whole body jumped and burst into flame.

The tip of Vicky’s finger circled around Monica’s clit and drew closer and closer. When it touched the throbbing, straining nub of sizzling flesh, Monica’s cuntlips flapped and spasmed wildly, and slippery, hot juice poured from her muscular hole.

“Oh, darling — you still like it! Oh wonderful, Monica!”

“Ahhhh!” Monica cried. “You’re going to make me come! Vicky, don’t! Stop! We’re girls! Don’t make me come!”

“I’m not a girl, darling,” Vicky whispered. “I’m Bruce. I’m your son. And here comes my big fat prick up your wet pussy!”

Vicky slid her fingers down the satiny, oiled slit between her sister’s pussylips. She fucked all four of them into the hot, flapping, sucking cunt hole, pushing them deep.

Monica’s hips shot upward. Her pussy tipped and opened wide. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, and the image of Bruce’s big cock filled her mind.

“YAAAAGH!” she bellowed.

Her pussy sucked and spasmed wildly around the fucking bunch of fingers. Her muscular cunt mouth squeezed and shuddered around them as if they were the fattest prick she’d ever had up her dainty little pussy.

Bruce’s prick!

“Fuck me, darling — fuck me!” she screamed. “Fuck Mom hard, Bruce!”


Vicky gasped as she watched her sister’s body shudder and pulse and thrash. She wriggled her fingers inside the squeezing, oiled silk of Monica’s cunt hole.

Her other hand shook and jiggled over her own pussy, and she gasped again and yanked her hand free just in time. She quivered on the brink of coming with Monica and used all her will to keep from having the waves of orgasm pulse through her hot body and ripple over her bald, shining twat.

“Vicky! Vicky!” Monica cried, her eyes shocking open. “Oh, God — did you hear what I said? God! I didn’t mean it! You made me say it! Oh, damn you, you always made me say crazy things like that!”

“It wasn’t crazy, Monica,” Vicky said quickly, wriggling her fingers in her cunt again. “It’s what you want. I know it. God, I saw it within an hour after I came here. You know you’ve never been able to hide anything from me, Monica.”

“No-no, it’s terrible! It’s wrong! I don’t want my son to fuck me! Vicky, I don’t!”

Vicky looked at her sister. She smiled, sweetly and heatedly at the same time, in the way only she could do it.

“Then there’s something wrong with you, Monica, because I’d sure want it if he were my son and my husband was to be gone for a whole month at a time.”

Monica looked at her sister. Her mind fought with the idea. There was something just not right about wanting your son to fuck you. But Vicky, somehow, as always, made the wildest things sound right.

“Y-You would?”

“Ohhh, you bet,” she moaned softly. “Look at my cunt right now. Look how wet and quivery it is, honey, and that’s just from thinking about Bruce’s big prick.”

She stopped leaning over Monica and went onto her back again, spreading her legs wide, lifting her knees, moving her hand from her bald twat so that Monica could get a good look at it.

“You know what’s the first thing I’d do, honey?”

“What?” Monica whispered, lifting up so she could gaze down on the shining, slippery-looking, hairless cunt.

“I’d shave my pussy, just like this. Doesn’t it look exciting without all that hair covering it up? Doesn’t it look all puffy and tender and so open?”

“Yes!” Monica gasped.

“Doesn’t it look like something you’d want to put your face against and wallow in? Honey, look at the puffy lips. Think how soft they’d feel against your ups, against your nose and cheeks.”

“Y-Yes,” Monica gasped. Her heart pounded. She was going to do something wild and shameless again. She just knew she was.

“Then do it, Monica,” Vicky said softly yet clearly.

Monica’s breath sucked in. Her eyes flicked to her sister’s. That was a mistake. That indefinable something was oozing from Vicky’s gaze, filling her with terrible, heart-pounding heat.


“Pretend you’re Bruce, honey. Make believe this is your sweet, bald cunt down here. It is, you know. It’s just exactly like yours, in every way. We’re identical, Monica. My cunt is your cunt. Come, darling — come closer and put your lips against the puffy, sweet petals.”

“Vicky, I-I’ve never…”

“Is that the truth, Monica?”

“Yes! Have you?”

They looked at each other. It was another strange moment of absolute truth.

“Some,” Vicky said. “Enough to know how. Do you want me to suck your pussy for you? Oh, that’s a wonderful idea, Monica. You be Bruce, and I’ll be you. You’ll see how much he’ll want to suck your shaved cunt when you suck mine, and I’ll show you what it will feel like when he does it!”

“Ohhhh, Vicky! Vicky!” Monica gasped.

She trembled all over. She felt as if she didn’t have any control over her emotions any more. The imagery Vicky made swell in her mind was unbearably shameful. Yet, she couldn’t deny the intense excitement of it.

“Come, darling,” Vicky said, reaching up gently, cupping the back of her sister’s head. She drew Monica down.

She lifted her hips and settled round asscheeks on the bed. She opened her thighs more. She shifted her hips again and made her red, wet cunt mouth suck open.

Monica stared down at the silky opening. She ran her eyes up and down the pink, wet gap. She saw the thrusting, pulsing stretch of her sister’s clit.

She imagined she was Bruce. She imagined what he would be feeling right now as he gazed into the oiled recesses of his mother’s bald, shining cunt.

His cock had become hard just looking at her exposed tit. What would happen to his big, virginal prick when he looked at her shaved pussy like this? Her heart pounded. His would pound. His big prick would pound. It would become huge. It would pulse and throb. It would get bigger than Gil’s. He’d want to fuck her and fuck her with it, and she.

“Oh-h-h, God!” she moaned quaveringly.

Her head seemed to swoop downward. Vicky didn’t have to pull any more. Her hand left the back of Monica’s head. She moved her hands to her crotch and used the tips of her fingers to pull the puffy, wet cuntlips aside.

Monica cried out and thrust her face into the watering maw of her sister’s cunt.

She was Bruce. It was Bruce’s face there. His lips on her wet cunt mouth. His tongue licking up and down the slippery gap, thrusting and fucking into the satiny, quivering hole.

He was doing it to her cunt, and he was loving it!

“Ahhhh, God…” Vicky groaned, shifting her hips again, opening her pussy wide to her sister’s kissing lips and slithering tongue.

She released her cuntlips. The bloated petals puffed back into place and wrapped around Monica’s pumping, slurping tongue. She lifted her hands to Monica’s head and moaned again.

“That’s the way, Brucie!” she gasped. “Ohhhh, Mom just loves that, darling! Ohhh, you have a wonderful tongue! God, fuck me with it, darling — fuck Mom with your strong, wet tongue!”

The words shot through Monica and made her mewl with squeaky sounds of passion. Flavor burst through her senses, a strange flavor, with hints of the way Gil’s lips tasted after he’d sucked her cunt to get it wet enough for his big fat prick.

Present and past and fantasy mixed into one swirling, glowing ball in her mind and made sensation shoot and throb through her body. Her cunt tunnel churned and pulsed, and her sweet, hot honey flowed from the walls and seeped past her silken cuntal ring to coat her fluttering twat lips.

“Ohhhh, my God!” she gasped, lifting her head for a draft of air.

She looked at the slick, shining, bald tenderness of her sister’s beautiful cunt and gasped again. The meat was soft and silky. It glistened with the fluids from her mouth and from inside the hot, squirming cunt tunnel.

The pinkness was as erotic as anything she’d experienced. The sweet slit between the bloated lips was like a teasing curtain, begging to be parted so that what was inside could be viewed and licked and sniffed and touched.

She moaned again and dropped her face into the soft, warm, wet vee of thighs and pussy and curving surfaces, and her tongue drilled deeply into the oiled haven and slithered around and around.

“Ahhhh! Ohhhh, darling! Eat my cunt! God!” Vicky cried, bucking and thrashing under Monica’s face.

Monica was spurred by the words. There was a moment of realization that she wasn’t Bruce, that Vicky wasn’t herself, that she was licking and slurping at another girl’s cunt.

But it didn’t matter any more. She was aflame again. Besides, Vicky wasn’t just any girl. Vicky was her twin sister. Vicky was nearly Monica, and sucking your own cunt was no worse than rubbing it with your fingers. It was just another form of masturbation, and Monica had masturbated thousands of times.

Vicky’s hands slid down her back. They reached for the upthrust, round mounds of her asscheeks. Vicky palmed them and massaged them and pulled gently.

Monica shifted around on her knees, unwilling to stop sucking and licking, but yielding to the pressure. She felt the hands make her thighs part. Fingers darted toward her split cunt and dabbled in the wet, hairy flesh.

“Ohhhh, yes! Yes!” she cried.

“Lift your leg over my face, honey!” Vicky gasped. “Ohhh, hurry! I’m going to suck your pussy for you!”

“Vicky! Ohhh, Vicky…”

“Not Vicky, darling — I’m Bruce now. I’ll be Bruce, and you be yourself, and I’ll show you what it will feel like when you shave your sweet cunt and let him lick it and suck it!”

“Yes… ohhh, anything! Anything!” Monica moaned.

God, it was like old times again. Vicky always thought up exciting things. She’d always had such a wild imagination.

Monica lifted her leg over her sister’s head. She felt her cuntlips split apart eagerly. Her tunnel squirmed and leaked, and she knew her pussy hair was drenched with slippery juice.

She pretended the hair wasn’t there any more, that she’d shaved just the way Vicky had. She lifted her head slightly and looked down at the exciting, slick, bald cunt before her again, and pretending her own was just as sweet, just as glistening and hairless wasn’t difficult at all.

Vicky’s fingers parted the wet bush over her face, exposing the red, quivering cunt meat between the lips. She slid her hands up around the sides of Monica’s hips and wrapped them around the tight globes of her ass.

She pulled down. She opened her mouth wide. She took the whole meat of her sister’s cunt into her mouth and thrust her tongue into the wet, silky cavern of squirming pussy flesh.

“Eeeee!” Monica screamed tightly. “Ahhh, Vicky!”

“Bruce!” Vicky corrected quickly, thrusting her tongue back into the swimming hole. She pulled on the taut asscheeks and nearly smothered herself with succulent flesh and dripping hair.

“Eeee, Bruce!” Monica cried, her ass shaking wildly.

She dropped her face into the wetness of Vicky’s cunt and ground her own down over the sucking, fucking mouth driving her into an absolute frenzy, not caring whose mouth it was.

Her tit ends rubbed against the soft satin of Vicky’s stomach, and her nipples seemed ready to plow into it. The way her asscheeks were pulled apart made her asshole pulse and throb, and she remembered the way Gil had fucked his big cock into it last night.

She wished she had a cock in it now. She imagined Gil’s there. Her asshole throbbed. She imagined Bruce’s cock fucking up her ass, and her asshole churned and vibrated shuddering orgasm through her whole body again.

“Yaaaagh!” she yelled, bearing down against the fucking mouth surrounding her whole flapping cunt.

“Yes! Ohhh, yes, honey!” Vicky cried.

Vicky lifted her hips high. Her cunt tipped up and open even more, and her bald little mouth squeezed and sucked around Monica’s tongue, drawing the wet organ deeper into her body.

Her clit thrust from the naked satin of her cleft and was sucked by soft lips and flipping tongue, and she exploded violently.

Slobbering, slurping sounds filled the room. Monica was dimly conscious of them. The sounds were terribly exciting. They were the sounds of bald, wet cunt and sucking mouth and spurting honey.

The orgasms went on and on. Vicky came twice, one right after the other. Monica could feel her doing it. There was a subtle change in the way her sweet cunt mouth squeezed and quavered silkily mound her embedded tongue.

That was the way she was going to come around Bruce’s tongue — with her own shaven, slick, bald cunt.

“Ohhhh, Vicky — Vicky!” she gasped finally, her emotions spinning away. “I’m glad you came to visit. I’m glad we’re together again. Sisters should be together — especially twin sisters. Shouldn’t they, Vicky? Shouldn’t they?”

“Yes, honey — yes. It’s good. I’m glad I came too,” Vicky sighed, her cunt still tipping up and down with the last tingles of her wild orgasm. “Ohhh, that was good, Monica. Very good. Did it remind you of the way it used to be, before we each went off and got married?”

“Yes,” Monica said softly. She smiled and nested against her sister — like old times. “It’s just as if nothing at all had changed between us. You still have that imagination of yours. You still like to play those sexy games.”

“And you still like to play them with me when I think them up, don’t you, honey?”

Monica looked at her sister. There was that mirror again, looking back. She gazed into her own eyes and saw the lust oozing from them. She shivered inside and knew that time had changed nothing.

“Yes,” she whispered finally. “I like to play them.”

Vicky smiled slowly and softly. She reached out and cupped her hand to the side of Monica’s face. She let the fingers explore the line of jaw, the high arch of cheekbone, the soft fullness of red lips.

“I’m glad, Monica,” she said, an edge of excitement to her soft whisper. “I’ve got lots of games to play. And it’s so good to have someone to play them with again.”

Monica looked at her. “What about the men — all the men you’ve always…”

Vicky looked away and sighed, a long, hollow sound. “Men… women… it doesn’t matter. It’s not enough, Monica. I tried to tell you. Since Stan… it’s just not enough to fuck. There has to be caring. Stan cared. You care. Oh, God — I don’t know how to explain it.”

Monica looked away too. She didn’t withdraw from her sister’s embrace. She shivered slightly, because a thought was running through her mind, and she didn’t know what to do with it.

Bruce cared. Even Gil would care…


Monica reached down between her legs and scratched again. She felt as if she were scratching her cunt raw. It itched terribly now. Just the way it had shortly after Bruce had been born, when the hair started growing back again.

She lifted the minidress she was wearing and pushed down the front of her yellow bikini panties and looked at her cunt. The mound was red and splotchy.

She ran her hand under her crotch, moving the fingertips gently over her sore cuntlips and could feel the cactus-like prickle of stubble there.

Hell! Only four days, and she needed to shave again! She must have been out of her mind to let Vicky talk her into shaving off her pretty teak-gold pussy patch!

One thing was sure. Nobody was going to want to put his tender tongue and lips up against that prickly pair of cunt flaps. Gil wouldn’t even want to run his big dick through that bramble patch.

She didn’t know what to do. Walking around the house, even, was a form of mild torture. She didn’t want to go through the bother of keeping herself shaved. Yet, Vicky would be displeased if she let it grow back again.

She let her panties gingerly back into place and glanced at herself in the mirror and sighed. Maybe after Gil got back and Vicky left, then God, it was just like old times. Vicky was running her again. Vicky had shaved her. This wasn’t even her own mini she was wearing, but Vicky’s.

Vicky had wanted to switch clothes with her Monica didn’t know who they were going to fool today with the old game of look-alike, so it had seemed a harmless thing to agree to.

Except that giving in to Vicky was never really harmless.

Monica heard the kitchen doorbell ring. She looked up and listened again, thinking she was imagining it. She hadn’t heard it ring in ages. Not even Bruce’s friends came to the kitchen door any more.

She made a move to answer it, remembered that Vicky had gone out and probably wasn’t back yet.

She went through the house. It didn’t ring again, arid that made her curious. She looked at the old swinging door between the kitchen and the dining room and saw that it was closed, and she became even more curious.

The old door never came to rest in a closed position. It angled into the kitchen an inch or two and got in the way. It had a catching point that made it an annoyance to use, and Monica had left it cocked open and out of the way for years.

But now somebody had swung it shut. And if Vicky wasn’t home yet, then — who?

Her pulse quickened suddenly, and she stopped and stared at the mysteriously closed door. She could see through the crack into the kitchen. A shadowy movement crossed the crack and frightened her even more. With Gil gone… anybody could watch the house and know that Gil was gone and that Bruce was still in school.

She turned her head and looked at the telephone, and thoughts of calling the police jumped through her mind. And then she heard a laugh.

A tinkling sound, oddly sensuous at the same time. Vicky’s laugh. She was home!

Monica started toward the door again and stopped once more when she heard a male voice, husky and urgent.

More puzzled than ever, she went silently to the crack and peered through it. She gasped with shock and lust at the same time.

Vicky was in the kitchen, all right. And so was a delivery boy from the grocery store. There was a box of groceries on the counter. They were right next to the delivery boy, who was sitting on the counter with his legs apart and Vicky between them and his stiff, throbbing prick jutting up into her sliding hand.

Monica gasped again and felt her cunt squirm and twitch. She watched Vicky masturbate the boy, who was about nineteen. He licked his lips and leaned his head back against the cupboard door and stared with eyes that were wide and full of wonder at this stroke of luck.

“God, Mrs. Evans,” he breathed huskily, letting out a moan.

“What, Jim? Do you want me to stop playing with your prick? Are you going to tell me that you’ve got to hurry along and make other deliveries?”

“God, no!” he gasped, staring at her braless tits. “It’s just that — well, it was a surprise and all to get your new account at the store and then… and now…”

“And now to find me being much more friendly than you thought I would be?”

“Yes!” he gasped.

“This isn’t all just for your pleasure, you know, Jim.”

He grinned crookedly. “What do you mean, Mrs. Evans?”

“Please, Jim — I think you can call me Monica, don’t you? Considering all the deliveries you’re going to be bringing me while my husband’s gone.”

“He’s gone?” he gasped, lifting his hips, sliding his prick up into her hand again. He made a tentative reach for her tit and cupped it when she didn’t seem to object.

“Gone,” Vicky whispered. “For a whole month at a time. I’m a young woman, Jim. I need to be fucked. I can’t go a month at a time without being fucked. You do know how to fuck a woman’s cunt with this big strong youthful prick of yours, don’t you?”

“You’d better believe it, Mrs. — Monica,” he gasped.

“What else can you do with it?”

“You just name it, baby.”

Vicky gave him a dark, quick look. She reached into his pants and cupped his balls and squeezed until he started gasping — not with pleasure this time.

“Hey! Hey!” he squeaked softly, trying to back away. There wasn’t anywhere for him to go.

“Don’t call me baby,” Vicky said. “Don’t call me anything but what I tell you to. And don’t try doing anything to me but what I tell you to, either, or we aren’t going to get along together very well at all, Jim.”

“Sure-sure, Monica,” he gasped tightly.

She released the pressure on his balls. His face was sweaty. He shook his head and let out a puff of breath and sagged back into a normal position again.

Vicky smiled sweetly at him and began stroking his cock to its former hardness. “That’s much better, Jim,” she said. She licked her soft lips and bent slowly over his lap, flicking her tongue from her mouth toward his prick.

Monica watched it all and listened to it all. Her ears burned. Her heart pounded. She couldn’t believe it. Vicky was passing herself off as Monica Evans to him! And she’d even — God, now it was clear where she’d gone today!

For a haircut!

Monica stared at her sister. The mirror image was complete now. Anybody looking into the kitchen right now would believe fully that the woman opened her mouth for the delivery boy’s prick was Monica. It looked like her. She was wearing her dress. She was using her name.

Emotions tumbled through Monica. Damn Vicky and her games! Now, every time the delivery boy came, he would try to fuck her!

Monica had the urge to burst into the kitchen and put it all right and stop Vicky at once. But then she thought of what a frustrated delivery boy might say to anyone who would listen, as opposed to a satisfied one who would keep silent and not mess up a good thing.

She heard him gasp again. His fingers curled around the edge of the counter, and his head tipped back with passion.

Monica watched her sister’s full, red lips slide down over his thrusting prick and suck back up again, and her cunt throbbed with lust, despite the itching of her stubble of pussy hairs.

When Vicky’s fingers reached into the gap of his pants and cupped his balls and drew them out and toyed with them, gently this time, Monica reached under the short hem of the mini and cupped her squirming cunt.

She glued her eye to the cracked-open door and watched breathlessly, because it was like watching herself do it — like watching a movie of herself sucking on that big, stiff, throbbing prick.

Vicky moaned with pleasure and sucked her mouth down over the hard shaft again. She twisted her head around the cock, made wet sounds, then screwed her compressed lips back up it.

“Ah! Ah!” Jim croaked. “God, what a cocksucker!”

“Mmm,” Vicky moaned.

Her tongue slurped out and licked around the crimson head, and then she sucked the velvety, slippery glans back into her mouth like a big grape.

Jim twisted his hips and moved his ass on the counter. His knees squeezed against Vicky’s sides more strongly. He put one hand on the back of her head until she brushed it away, and then he fondled both her full, firm tits, reaching inside the top of the blouse to get at them.

Vicky slipped her mouth from his cock a moment. “Unbutton my blouse!” she gasped. “Take my tits out, and I’ll let you fuck them!”

“Ohhhh, you’d better hurry, Monica! You’d better stop sucking my prick like that if you want me to fuck them and then your cunt too!”

“You mean you can’t hold it?” Vicky questioned. “Christ! What’s the matter with kids these days! When will they be men enough to hold their jism in their balls!”

“I-I can hold it, Monica,” Jim gasped, his face red and filled with lust. “Anyway, if I don’t… well, I’m good for more than one! My cock won’t go soft on you, I promise!”

Vicky pushed her chest toward him. He fumbled with her buttons. She finally had to undo them herself. Her tits spilled free, jutting forward, the nipples big and full and stiff.

She licked at his prick again, her tongue lapping up the bottom side of the shaft and twirling around the swollen tip. Jim bucked and groaned and pulled her tits, thumbing the nipples stiff and rubbery.

“Suck my tits!” Vicky moaned, standing erect.

Jim was eager. He seemed to be over the shock of the unexpected fuck. He cupped her tit and dipped his head and drew the end of it deeply between his lips, flicking the nipple with his darting tongue.

“Ohhhh, that’s good,” Vicky moaned. “That’s good for a kid. I hope you can suck my cunt as well as you’re sucking my tits!”

“Yes, yes!” Jim groaned.

His cock throbbed heatedly, standing stiffly between them. Vicky wrapped her arm around his hips. She held his flaming shaft with her other hand and jacked it off some more and pushed her tit deeper into his mouth, swinging her hips and ass with growing passion as she did.

Monica felt the dampness soaking through her panties into her pussy-cupping palm. She sucked in her breath and thrust her hand inside her panties and hardly felt the itchiness any more. She slid the tip of her finger up and down her sensitive gap and rolled her clit to straining stiffness and watched for all she was worth.

Vicky turned slightly when she pushed Jim’s head from her tits. The whole area between the thrusting cones was wet and shiny from his licking and mouthing.

She cupped her tits in her hands. She aimed them at him. She shivered slightly and lowered her chest.

“Fuck my tits with that big prick!” she gasped.

Jim angled his cock. Vicky wrapped her fleshy tits around the solid meat and pushed inward with her hands. Then she made her cones work up and down the hard cock while she dipped and rose slightly.

“Ahhhh!” Jim moaned. “God, that’s great!”

“Haven’t you ever fucked tits before?”

“No! Man, wait’ll Mavis hears about this! She’s got big soft bags, and she loves to have me suck on them and play with them. This’ll blow her mind!”

“Look,” Vicky said heatedly, glancing down.

“Watch your cock nose out between them!”

“Yeah! Man! Ohhh, Christ…” he gasped suddenly.

His face went slack. His hips bucked. His prick throbbed wildly between the firm cones wrapped so silkily around his shaft.

Vicky looked at him. “Hold it!” she cried. “Don’t come between my tits! Jim, you hold it!”

“I — ohhhh, I can’t!”

“Don’t waste it!”

“I’m coming! Christ, I’m coming! God, am I coming! Right between your tits! All over your chest! Yaaagh!”

His balls pumped. Jism hosed up out of the crack between her compressed tits. It flowed over her chest and neck and ran back down the slopes of her breasts. It clung to the rubbery, red nipples before sliding off them and falling into his lap in sticky wads.

“Ohhh, Christ!” he gasped again. He looked sheepish and a little frightened of what she would say. “I’m sorry, Monica. I couldn’t hold it!”

Vicky took her tits away. She looked down at the mess on her chest. Monica looked at it too, glistening there, shiny and white and lewd. Her hand swirled over her cunt and made quick heat shoot through her body in pulses of fire.

“What a mess,” Vicky said.

Her voice was strange. It was a remark of irritation, but she didn’t look or sound irritated at all. She put her hands over her tits and rubbed them around.

They slid over the slippery, cum-coated surfaces. She massaged her tits and chest as if rubbing rich cream into her skin. She tipped her head back slightly and moaned, and Jim stared with awe, his prick as good as his word. It throbbed stiffly, without the slightest sign of wilt.

“Get down from there, Jim,” she said heatedly.

He slid to the floor quickly, eager to do whatever she ordered him to. His prick jutted toward her. Vicky looked down at it. She went against him, shoving her wet tits against his shirt front. She lifted the hem of her skirt, and Monica saw her bald cunt open.

“Fuck that hard prick up my cunt, Jim!” Vicky gasped.

She stood on her tiptoes. She wrapped her arms around his neck. She lifted one foot from the floor and made her cunt suck wide open. Jim reached around her and held her ass in his palms. He probed forward with his prick, and the wet head slid all over her naked twat until it snaked between her tight, puffy cuntlips and sank into her gaping, sucking hole.

“Oh, Christ!” he cried weakly, quivering.

“Don’t you fade out on me now, damn it,” Vicky warned.

“I won’t! I won’t!”

“Then fuck me! Fuck that big prick right up my hot cunt and make me come!”

“Yes! Yes!”

He jabbed forward. He pulled with his hands. His prick shot up her wet, slippery cunt hole, and they both moaned with bliss.

Monica’s finger fucked up into her own drooling pussy. Her thumb rolled over her clit. Jim couldn’t see Vicky’s cunt because of the way the skirt was draped over their fucking organs, but Monica could see it clearly.

Better than that, she could nearly feel that hard prick up her own pussy. Watching Vicky being fucked was nearly like being fucked herself. She twirled her finger in her cunt to make the sensation even more real.

“Ahhhgh!” Jim cried breathily. “What a hot cunt! So wet! So — God, it’s alive! It’s sucking my prick all the way up it!”

“Mmmm, nice prick-stiff and throbbing,” Vicky moaned, rolling her hips and ass.

She pumped slowly back and forth against his middle. She closed her eyes and tipped her head back. She pushed the points of her wet, cum-slippery tits against his chest.

She shook her ass quickly and then made slow, grinding fucking motions with her hips, sucking her cunt up and down his stretching, thudding prick.

“Monica, I…” Jim gasped.

Her eyes popped open. “Not again, damn it!”

“It’ll stay stiff! I swear it will! God, you’re the best, hottest fuck I’ve ever had, Monica! I can’t help it!”

“Damn kid — be a man! Hold it!”

“Then stop sucking your pussy up and down my prick that way!” he whimpered. “Christ, I’ve never been fucked like that in my life! Mavis’ pussy — it’s just there, you know? Soft and wet and hot. You pump your prick in and out of it. It feels good, and you come up her. But yours…”

“Yes? What about my pussy? Tell me what my pussy’s like to fuck, Jim. Tell me!”

She panted shallowly. She moved her thigh up and down, the side of his, looking as if he were a pole she was trying to shinny up. Her cunt mouth sucked in and pushed out around his throbbing shaft, and it made sharp wet sounds in the glossy-walled kitchen.

“It-it’s like a sucking mouth!” he gasped. “It moves! It squeezes and sucks in, and the whole length of it milks my prick like a glove of oiled silk!”

The words and images burned through Monica’s mind as she listened. That was something she’d never wondered about before — the difference in women’s cunts.

She made her own cunt do what it normally did around Gil’s big prick. She felt it all along her finger. It sucked and pulled and squeezed, and it was like a milking hand.

Even to that detail, she and Vicky were identical!

“Here, hold still,” Vicky said. “Stop pumping.”

Jim gasped and stopped, puffing hard, trying his best to hold his boiling balls in check.

“What… ohhh, what…” he gasped.

His face went through a play of emotions. His knees went rubbery, and he had to lean back against the counter for support, before he fell over.

“There. Do you feel that? What does that feel like, Jim?” Vicky asked breathlessly.

She was smiling. The lust and sultriness oozed from her features in that way she had.

“It feels… ahhhgh, I can’t stand it! I’m gonna come! Shit! I can’t hold it when you do that to my prick!” he wailed.

“If you come in my cunt, you’re going to have to lick it, Jim!” she warned. “Because that’s what I want you to do next — suck my pussy out, just the way you did my tits!” He gagged. His eyeballs rolled in his head. “Crap, I don’t care!” he blurted. “I’m coming! God, you’re drawing it right up outa my balls! Ah! YAAAGH!”

His pelvis tipped forward. He shoved his boiling prick all the way up into her cunt. He carried half her weight on his hips. He opened his mouth and yelled with a thin sound and blasted his load of cum up her cunt.

He shuddered violently, making Vicky’s ass bounce in his pulling, kneading hands. He thrust up and forward so hard he skewered her body right up her middle on the thrusting lance of his prick.

“YAAAAGH!” he bellowed, full throated this time.

He weaved in the middle of it. He looked ready to collapse into a spastic heap, dragging her down with him. Only the propping counter saved him from crumpling to the floor.

Vicky wasn’t making it any easier for him to retain control and balance. She shook and sucked at his prick with her trembling cunt, giving him everything.

Monica’s cunt seethed as she watched. It pulsed and sucked around the finger embedded in it. She shoved a second finger in with the first. She wriggled the two of them and rolled her clit again and again with her thumb.

Pussy juice ran from her cunt walls and flooded down her fingers and out and puddled in her upturned palm. She whimpered and braced herself against the doorway and kept her eye glued to the crack even as she felt herself coming with Jim.

There was a difference between her and Vicky. If Jim’s prick had really been blasting into her cunt like that, she wouldn’t have been able to hold back her own orgasm.

There was no way.

She squealed thinly in the back of her throat and kept her lips tightly compressed so that the sound wouldn’t come out, and she shuddered violently, coming hard.

Jim gasped and sagged. His head rolled on his neck a moment. Then he lifted it and opened hooded eyes.

“It-it’s still stiff,” he gasped weakly. “I can still fuck, Monica.”

She looked at him. “Stiff, hell,” she said.

She pulled back. Her cunt slipped from his cock. They both looked down at it. It bowed from the fly of his pants. The wet head nosed against the front of her skirt.

“It… it’s gone limp,” he said with dismay. “It’s never done that before. I swear it hasn’t, Monica! I can fuck Mavis all night long, and it never goes limp like that. My prick! What’d you do to my prick?”

“Never mind your damn prick,” Vicky said. “What about my cunt? It’s hot. It’s wet. You’ve had yours, now — twice. It’s my turn now, sonny, or you can tell your boss to send a man over with the groceries the next time.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he gasped. “Just wait. I’ll have it hard again in a minute. Oh, boy, will I ever.”

He gripped his slippery, wilted prick and jacked it quickly, his face full of determination. It made squishy sounds in his fingers, and juice foamed all over his knuckles.

Vicky watched him. The harder he tried, the limper his prick got.

“Forget your damn cock,” she said. “I don’t want to fuck it any more anyway. I want you to suck my cunt — eat it out. Fuck it with your tongue slithering around up inside there and make me come!”

She slapped his hand away from his prick. He looked at her. He choked.

“Aw, Monica…”

“You heard me, didn’t you?”

“But it’s — your cunt’s full of cum now! You want me to stick my tongue in that?”

“Hard and fast, sonny,” Vicky said.

She hopped up onto the counter. She pulled the skirt back over her tight, round ass and bunched it at her waist. Her tits thrust from her chest, the nipples dark red and hard.

She spread her thighs, open, twining her legs around his body and pulling him in against her.

“Look at that pretty cunt and eat it out, Jim,” she said.

He didn’t have to be told to look. His eyes were bulging from his head. Despite himself, he licked his lips with mounting lust. He reached out with the tip of his finger and touched the side of her juice-coated cuntlip, feeling the silky texture of her skin.

“It-it’s bald!” he gasped.

Vicky smiled softly. He was trapped. She leaned back against the cupboard. She took her legs from around him. She hooked her heels onto the edge of the counter.

Her knees fell wide. Her cunt mouth sucked open with a loud, sticky smack. The pink tissues inside gleamed and shone. White droplets of jism coated them and oozed out from her cunt mouth as he stared.

Pussy juice came too, puddling at the little pocket at the bottom of her twat. Her clit stood out stiffly from the top of her cleft and throbbed.

“There,” she breathed. “Eat my cunt!”

“God,” he moaned shakily, licking his lips again. “Oh, God…”

He put his hands on her inner thighs. The thumbs reached for the split lips of her cunt. He moaned again and then bent over, nearing the wet mass of red, pulsing flesh.

“Ohhh, God…” he moaned again.


Monica watched with disbelief, her mouth hanging open and her palm still cupped around her quivering, drooling cunt. Thrill after thrill chased through her body and exploded in her mind in a blaze of colorful stars.

The kid was nuts!

Gil wouldn’t have given first thought to putting his face near that flowing, puddled gash of cummy cunt flesh, let alone to thrusting his tongue into the syrupy mixture and stirring it around.

But the kid was going to do it. He’d balked at the suggestion at first. But then he’d taken one long look at the slick baldness of Vicky’s cunt and had changed his mind.

Or did he have any mind left to change? Is that what a shaved cunt did to men? Would Gil… put his face… against that draining, cummy pussy and suck it?

The idea thrilled through her wildly. Why shouldn’t he? She’d swallowed down his load, the other morning, hadn’t she? Why couldn’t he lick a little off her cuntlips? It wouldn’t kill him. It might even make him see her side of it. It might even soften him a little and make him less a he-man and more a whole man.

Suddenly, she didn’t mind the itching of her cunt any more. She knew how to solve it. She would shave it smooth again.

“Oh-h-h, God…” Jim croaked once more.

He inhaled deeply, his nose barely touching the wet, shiny surface of her cunt flesh. His eyeballs rolled in his head. His tongue slithered between his lips and slipped up the satiny gap of Vicky’s pussy.

“Ahhhh!” Vicky gasped softly. “That’s it, Jim — that’s it. Just the way you sucked my tits, honey — do it right! Ohhh, slurp my pussy mouth again!”

Jim didn’t need lessons on sucking cunt. He must have gotten lots of practice on Mavis. His head turned gently back and forth as he went to work, lapping and licking.

He thrust his tongue from his lips and made it broad and flat. He covered the whole of her pulsating gap with it and shook her sensitive flesh up and down.

His lips nibbled at her puffy cunt petals. He sucked them into his mouth and chewed gently on them. Vicky sighed and moaned repeatedly and spilt her pussy open as wide as it would go.

She cupped the back of his head and let her knees come so far back against her body they mashed against her tits and flattened the firm cones.

She looked twice as open and hot because there was no hair over her twat. She looked vulnerable and helpless, and her cunt poured forth its slippery honey.

Jim licked and lapped and sucked. His tongue washed all over her wet, red flesh. He didn’t just lick her gap. He licked all over her sweet, slick pussylips, over her mound, along the lines of inner thigh and crotch, where it all came together in a hot, slippery, silky maw of quivering cunt flesh.

Vicky moaned repeatedly. She tossed her head and rocked on the tight balls of her firm ass, rolling and heaving.

Her asshole winked and pulsed. It was like a steamy vent for the boiling tunnel of her cunt. Jim licked all around it, gripping the sides of her hips, pressing his face into her crotch again and again.

“Ahhh, I can’t get enough!” he cried.

“Try-try!” Vicky gasped.

“I’ve never seen anything like it! It’s wild! No hair! I can lick anywhere — everywhere! Ahhh, right up your asshole even! God, oh God!”

He let out a quavering gasp and lunged forward. Vicky stiffened and sucked in her breath. She mewed with sensation and rolled and rocked back and forth, and then Monica saw it — saw it!

Jim’s tongue tip had vanished! It was up her asshole! He was doing it!

Monica shuddered all over as she watched. Her own asshole burned and pulsed. She remembered the feel of the thick, stuffing plug of Gil’s cock ripping up her shit chute the other night.

That had hurt. What Jim was doing looked thrilling. Would Gil fuck her asshole with his tongue instead of his big prick? Would he?

Maybe… if she kept her cunt shaved and slick and bald and tempting…

“Ahhh, Jim!” Vicky cried, clutching at the back of his head, pulling his face tightly into her split crotch.

She gasped several times. Her face flushed red. Her tits swelled, and the nipples stretched from the ends, red and pointed and stiff.

Jim pumped with his tongue, fucking her asshole. He ran his fingers all over her slippery, drooling cunt gap. He fondled her lips and her clit. He fucked up into her cunt hole and pressed the big muscle up and down.

“Ah! Ahhhh, you’re going to do it, kid!” Vicky gasped. “You’re going to make me come! God, you’re a good cunt-sucker!”

She took in a shuddering breath and scooted so that her crotch was tipped upward even more toward his face. She couldn’t have split her middle open any more than it already was, but she did.

And Jim lapped and slurped and fucked right to the center of her being.

“AHHHHGH!” she cried tightly.

Vicky mashed his face against her split crotch and blew cunt juice all over him as she came. Her cunt muscles quivered and shook and pulsed. Her asshole sucked around his tongue. She bathed him in slippery honey and bucked up and down wildly.

“Man, man!” Jim gasped when the explosion was over.

He lifted back and looked down at the quivering mass of red, pulsing flesh. A squirt of juice leaked from her cunt mouth, and he dipped down and licked it up, making Vicky shudder again.

“Ohhh, that was good, Jim — good! You can deliver my groceries any day,” Vicky grinned shakily.

He held his prick in his fist and pointed it at her. It was raging stiff again, pulsing at the swollen end.

“I gotta fuck you again, Monica,” he gasped. “Look what that pretty bald pussy did to my prick!”

She looked at it. She smiled. “That’s fine, Jim,” she said. “You keep it stiff like that until the next time, huh?”

His face fell. “Aw, Monica! I gotta fuck! I’m horny as hell now!”

She let her feet down from the edge of the counter. Her legs dangled. She slipped the hem of the skirt under her ass, one cheek at a time, then covered up her gleaming, bald cunt.

“Monica…” he wailed.

“Next time, Jim,” she repeated.

He reached for the box of groceries and fumbled around in it with a desperate expression. He pulled out a large green cucumber, covered with knobs. He waved it at her with a grin.

“Both of us?” he questioned, shaking his prick at her at the same time. “Mavis likes it that way — my prick up her ass and a big cucumber up her cunt!”

“Sounds exciting,” Vicky said, slipping from the counter to the floor. “Next time.” She grinned at him, clearly finished. “Maybe,” she added, nodding toward the cucumber. “Now, put that dick back in your pants and go make your deliveries. We wouldn’t want you to get fired. Besides, my son is due home any minute, and he might not like to see a strange guy fucking a cucumber up his mother’s cunt.”

Monica had been right on the verge of coming with Vicky. But she’d held back, thinking that Vicky would surely want a second orgasm, the way she usually did.

So, she’d held herself back. Her cunt was blazing, her emotions pitched and jittery. Her palm was soaked, and her honey ran down her inner thighs.

She watched Jim stuff his prick back into his pants, the rod shape of it very clear. She was ready to run around the back of the house and capture him and pull him into the garage and tell him she’d changed her mind.

He wouldn’t notice, maybe, that her slick, bald cunt had scratchy stubble on it now. Maybe he wouldn’t notice she’d changed her clothes. He wouldn’t be able to believe that she wasn’t the same woman he’d fucked and sucked in the kitchen just moments ago. They almost never had guessed a switch had been pulled on them.

But when Vicky mentioned that Bruce would be home from school at any moment, she gasped and whirled around at the sound from the front door that she would have missed if Jim had started fucking the big cucumber up her sister’s cunt.

“Bruce!” she gasped softly.

She yanked her hand from her panties and flipped the hem of the mini down quickly. She stood in front of the kitchen door and stammered watching him come into the house.

Bruce blinked and squinted at the abrupt change of light from the brightness outside. He peered at his mother. “Aunt Vicky?” he asked, not quite sure.

Monica stepped away from the door toward him, keeping her wet palm behind her.

“Bruce! It’s your mother!”

“Oh, yeah,” he grinned. “Hi, Mom. Gosh, you two look so much alike, I didn’t know for sure. Isn’t that one of Aunt Vicky’s dresses?”

He was looking her up and down. The gaze made tingles run through Monica. As she looked at him, she saw that he wasn’t much younger than the boy Vicky had just been fucking. He was taller, and he knew already that his prick was twice as big.

Her cunt tingled and squirmed from her frustration. The orgasm was still there, right at the surface. She felt dizzy for a quick moment as she visualized herself walking up to Bruce and lifting her mini and taking his big cock into her flaming cunt.

“Mom? What’s the matter, Mom?”


“You look — funny. Is something wrong?”

“No-no, nothing’s wrong. Wait! Where are you going?”

He’d dropped his books onto a small table. “Just into the kitchen for a drink,” he said, turning to look at her. His forehead wrinkled with puzzlement. “How come the door’s closed? Jeez, I haven’t seen that thing closed in years.”

“Don’t go in there, Bruce,” she said quickly, totally unable to think of a good reason why he shouldn’t.

Bruce was just going to ask why he shouldn’t when Vicky swung through the door and saved Monica the need to lie. The lying would have been better.

Vicky had the hem of her skirt lifted to her abdomen. She was wiping her naked cunt of all the wetness on a tissue as she pushed through the door.

When she saw Bruce, she was very nonchalant, simply letting her skirt fall back into place.

“Why, hello, Bruce. Back so soon?”

“H-Hello, Aunt Vicky,” Bruce choked, his eyes bugging.

Monica flushed all over with embarrassment for him. Not that he’d really seen Vicky’s cunt under the folds of material. It was the suggestiveness that counted.

Vicky laughed easily. “Don’t mind me, darling. I seem to be a little syrupy, is all. Or didn’t you know such things happened to women?”

“I… I…” Bruce stammered, swallowing hard.

She went up to him and touched the side of his face with her damp fingers. Monica watched his nose wrinkle as he smelled the aroma of fucking cunt.

“Don’t you have a girl, Brucie? A big handsome guy like you? I thought you did.”

“N-Nancy,” he stammered.

“Well, I’ll bet Nancy gets all syrupy over you, doesn’t she?” Vicky grinned, that special look coming from her eyes and flustering Bruce more than Monica had ever seen.

“I… gosh, Aunt Vicky!” he gasped with confusion. He looked at Monica as if for help. He didn’t know what to make of her attitude or her intimacy.

“Vicky!” Monica cried softly.

Vicky turned and looked at her. “Oh, don’t be so stuffy, honey,” she said. “Bruce is a big boy now, isn’t he? He ought to know about women by now. If he doesn’t, then he should be taught.”

Vicky looked back at Bruce, giving him a full blast of that look of hers, moving in close, making her pointed tits thrust toward him and brush their tips over his chest.

“Wouldn’t you like your Aunt Vicky to teach you about women, Brucie?” she asked intimately.

“Vicky, stop!” Monica gasped.

The minor effect was driving her mad. Watching Vicky fuck the delivery boy had been like watching a movie of herself doing it. It was just the same right now — with her own son this time. Her cunt throbbed and pulsed shamelessly.

“Why stop?” Vicky asked. “He has to learn, doesn’t he? You didn’t mind learning when you were his age. Besides, darling, I care about him. He’s my nephew, isn’t he?”

“That’s why you should stop!” Monica gasped. “Aunt and nephew — it just isn’t…”

Vicky laughed lightly, tipping her head back. She wadded the ball of damp tissue in her hand and tossed it toward the wastebasket.

“It just isn’t the same as mother and son, Monica? Is that what you were going to say? Well, we can pretend, Brucie and I can. He can pretend that I’m his mother without much trouble at all. Isn’t that right, Bruce?”

Bruce looked from one to the other of them several times, not at all certain what they were even talking about. But he knew the effect it was having on his erecting prick. He half turned away, trying to hide it.

“Don’t your mother and I look just alike now, Bruce?” Vicky asked gaily, moving over toward Monica. “I’ll bet if the lights were low you wouldn’t be able to tell us apart.”

Bruce grinned. “Yeah,” he said with a small laugh. “I already thought Mom was you, and the lights weren’t even on.”

Vicky smiled at him steadily. Monica felt her heart pound. The poor kid was just too innocent. He didn’t understand anything yet. She knew exactly what Vicky had in mind, and the knowledge sent chills and thrills through her at the same time, racing up her spine and making her lightheaded.

Bruce seemed to hurry into the kitchen, leaving the twin sisters alone. Monica turned her head and made her voice level and quiet as deadly as she could.

“You leave my son alone, Vicky,” she said.

“Mmmm, don’t we sound vicious, darling,” Vicky grinned lightly. “Or is that overtone one of jealousy?”

“Don’t you dare fuck him.”

Vicky pointed at herself and looked surprised. “Me? Do a thing like that? Monica, darling, I’m astonished! I’m not going to fuck him, sweetie. You are.”

“I…” Monica blurted with a loud gasp. “Oh! Oh, damn you, Vicky! I won’t have it! Don’t you dare!”

Vicky laughed lightly and leaned against her sister, making their tits rub. She took Monica’s hand and began leading her back to the bedroom.

“Come on, darling — let’s finish you off before you completely lose track of what you’re saying.”

“Finish me…” Monica started.

“Of course. You’ve got a big bubble in your cunt just aching to be popped. I saw you watching us. I heard you, too. Mmmm, you sounded like you were having a fine time playing with your pretty pussy. But I know you didn’t get to finish,” she said, pulling Monica into the bedroom and closing the door.

She moved in close. She reached around her sister for the zipper at the back of the dress. She ran it down and slid the garment from Monica’s shoulders, watching the fine, firm tits come free. “Vicky, stop it,” she said softly.

“I can’t leave you hanging like this, darling,” Vicky said, reaching forward to cup her sister’s tits in her soft, damp palms.

“I’m fine,” Monica said. She closed her eyes a moment and sucked in her breath with the sensation Vicky’s fingers caused at her nipples.

“You’re not fine at all. You’ll be a wreck by dinner time. I know you too well, honey. Much too well. Come on, off with the dress. Let Vicky make you feel good all over.”

“No!” Monica gasped, trying to pull away. She didn’t try too hard.

“Oh? You don’t want me to finish you off? Then how about Bruce? I can call in Bruce, and we can give him his first lesson on how to keep Nancy happy.”

“Oh-h-h, God…” Monica breathed quaveringly.

“Mmm, you like that idea. All right. I’ll call him.”

“No! No, don’t you dare!” Monica gasped.

Vicky laughed throatily. She reached lower and slid the mini over Monica’s hips, pushing it down her firm thighs to the floor. She passed her hand up between the firm thighs and cupped her hand around the leaking, quivering meat of her cunt.

“Honey, you need another shave,” Vicky said. “You’re getting all stubbly. Brucie won’t want to suck your pussy madly the way Jim sucked mine, if you don’t keep it slick and shaved.”

“Ohhh, Vicky…” Monica groaned.

“Did you see what happened to our cocky delivery boy when he got a look at my bald pussy? Of course, you saw it. Wasn’t it thrilling? Didn’t I tell you that’s what happened to them?”

“Ohhhh, God!” Monica gasped again, feeling her knees go rubbery and weak.

“There, darling — that’s it. Lie down on the bed before you fall down. Open your legs. Wider. Ohhhh, that’s it, Monica. My, what a pretty, hot wet cunt! If you didn’t have all those whiskers on it, I’d suck you off and let you know what it felt like for me just now — what it’s going to feel like when Bruce sucks you off with that youthful eagerness Jim displayed.”

“Vicky, don’t — please, don’t.”

Vicky was sliding the tip of her finger up and down her sister’s pink, quivering gap, circling her straining clit with it, sliding it back down to pluck at the running mouth of her cunt hole.

“Mmm, that’s so wet in there it’s going to flood the bed, darling. What we need is a big fat plug to stuff in there. A big prick. A hot, hard prick. And I know just where there happens to be one right now. Stay like that, darling, and I’ll go get it.”

“No — don’t, Vicky, don’t…” Monica gasped.

Vicky slid from the bed. She moved toward the door, smiling with excitement.

“I’ll call him,” she said.

“Don’t call him!”

“You can’t be left in this condition, darling.”

“I won’t — I won’t!” Monica gasped.

She reached quickly between her thighs with both hands. She spread her sodden cuntlips apart with the tips of her fingers and then fucked two stiff fingers deeply into her cunt hole. She jiggled the top of her cleft at the same time, masturbating her clit.

She lifted her knees high and apart. She switched her ass on the bed and strained upward, lifting her cunt high.

“Don’t do that, Monica — don’t waste it!” Vicky cried.

“Yes! Ohhh, I’m going to come! Then you won’t be able to make me fuck my son! Ohhhh, I’m going to come, Vicky!”

Vicky snatched the door open. “Bruce! Brucie!”

“Huh?” he answered, his voice muffled and distant.

“Come here a minute, Bruce!”

“Ohhh, I’m going to come! Vicky, damn you! Ahhhhh, I’m coming!”

“What’s the matter, Aunt Vicky? What do you want?”

Vicky stood in the doorway, leaving it open just a crack. She looked back at the bed and watched her sister toss and heave with orgasm, her legs shaking, her tits jiggling on her chest.

Monica gave a final shudder of release, her cunt mouth spasming and drooling hot honey, and then she collapsed back on the bed with her hand over her pussy and let out a long groan.

“Never mind, Brucie,” Vicky said quietly.

He tried to peer around her into the room. “What’s the matter with Mom? Is she all right? She sounds awful.”

Vicky smiled softly at him. “She is now, honey. Just a little cramping. You can help her next time, sweetie. I’m sure shell let you help her in a day or two.”

Bruce was going to ask help her with what, but Vicky only smiled and closed the door. She turned her back to it and looked at her spread-legged sister and put her hand to her chin in thought.


“He’s in trouble, Monica,” Vicky said earnestly.

“He is not!”

“Honey, he’s got a problem, and you know it. You saw him with Nancy last night after their date. They sat there listening to records, and the poor girl was dying for that big prick up her pussy, or a good finger job at least, and Bruce couldn’t manage any more than holding her hand on the sly. Holding her hand! For God’s sake, Monica!”

Monica flushed and looked away, remembering how the two of them had pretended to go out for a little while and then had peeked through the window at Bruce and Nancy.

Vicky was right, of course. Monica knew it. She’d known it before Vicky had even come. Gil knew it too, and that was why he rode Bruce all the time and called him a pansy.

She didn’t know how he’d gotten that way. Was it her fault? Had she kept him sweet and innocent and effeminate to compensate for Gil’s bull-like, he-man manner?

“Come on, honey — admit it. If not to me, then to yourself, at least. The kid’s scared shitless of girls.”

“Yes, yes, all right!” Monica cried. She looked up. “But I don’t know what to do about it.”

Vicky smiled, and that look oozed from her eyes in waves of heat. “I do,” she said.


“All right. You do it then.”

Monica gasped and clamped her hand over her newly shaved, slick cunt. “Fuck my own son! Vicky, you’re sick!”

Vicky considered that a moment, then shook her head. “You want to keep him a pansy. I want to make him a man. Who’s sick?”

Monica looked away again. “I can’t do it.”

Vicky laughed. “You want to, honey. Oh, don’t try to kid me. Hey, this is Vicky, your twin sister. You can’t kid me. You’re aching to feel that big fat prick all the way up your squeezing cunt, and you know it.”

Monica looked at her sister quickly, her expression a little wild, her mouth open to shout vehement denial. But she closed her mouth and looked away. She couldn’t lie.

Thought of Bruce’s big prick, of the glimpses she had of its full girth and youthful stretch, made her cunt squirm and let her know how terribly horny she was getting.

It had been a week since Vicky had fucked the delivery boy the first time. It had been that long since Vicky had tried to help her come.

Since then, there’d been no more games. Vicky hadn’t masturbated in bed beside her and drawn her into the sexual swirl. And Monica didn’t have the nerve to ask Vicky to suck her cunt off or finger-fuck her or anything else.

She never had. All of it had been at Vicky’s instigation, from the time they were children.

But now, Vicky was getting all the fucking she needed from the delivery boy. Monica had watched again. She’d fucked herself into a wild frenzy of orgasm again. But it wasn’t enough any more.

She’d found herself staring furtively at her son, watching his crotch, seeing the bulge there and imagining the stiff eagerness of his young, hard prick.

She felt like a dirty old woman doing it. She watched the way Vicky paraded around the house in front of Bruce in thin panties and half-naked tits, and she envied her sister’s freedom.

And she was jealous of the growing attention Bruce was paying his aunt. He found excuses to be with her. He helped her with little chores around the house, hoping to get another glimpse of her ass or tits.

Vicky was winning him away from her, and Monica felt herself becoming all twisted up inside.

Right now, she was ready to admit that Vicky was right, right, right. She was the sick one, not Vicky.

She felt sick inside, anyway.

“He’s got to learn, Monica,” Vicky persisted. “He’s got to have a girl make his prick hard and fondle it and lick it and slip it up her wet cunt. He’s got to get over his fright.”

“Yes,” Monica said, her voice distant and hollow. She shivered, the image of herself doing all that coming suddenly to her mind.

“You should do it, Monica, you’re his mother. You should teach him. A parent should teach her children everything.”

“I can’t!” Monica wailed.

“Then I will.”

“Yes, Monica,” Vicky said firmly. “You can watch. You can pretend that I’m you, and then you won’t feel so strange about it the next time.”

“Oh, God…” Monica shivered.

Her cunt was squirming and oozing inside. Her honey flowed from the slippery, silky walls and drained to her bald cuntlips and soaked into the crotchband of her panties.

She moaned heatedly and thrust her hand between her thighs, jiggling her cunt furiously, overcome with heat and the need to blast herself into a tremendous orgasm.

Vicky pulled her arm away. “No,” she said, her voice firm again. “You’re not going to get away with that a second time.”

“Ohhhh, I want to come! It’s been a whole week!”

“That’s good,” Vicky smiled. “Just keep your cunt simmering that way. You’ll come. Oh, will you come tonight!”

Monica looked at her sister with wide eyes. “What are you going to do? Oh, Vicky — what nasty, dirty game have you thought up to play now?”

Vicky laughed. “Dirty to you, honey. Fun to me. Now, here’s what we’ll do.”

Monica still couldn’t believe it was happening or that she’d agreed to do it. She sat on the hamper in the dark bathroom and looked through the cracked-open door into the bedroom.

She heard them talking on the way down the hall. And then they came into the bedroom, Vicky and Bruce. Bruce watched her go to the closet. He seemed a little uneasy.

“Where’d you say Mom was, Aunt Vicky?”

“Seeing a friend, honey. What’s her name? Helen something?”

“Oh, yeah, I know her.”

“It seems her husband is out of town, and she had somebody try to break into the house this afternoon. Your mother’s going to stay there all night to keep her company.”

“Boy, it’s getting to be a problem any more, Aunt Vicky,” he said seriously.

“Well, I’m glad I have a big strong man like you here to look after me.”

“Yeah, I’ll sure do that,” he smiled.

“Speaking of looking after me, honey, I wanted you to tell me if this dress I altered today looks all right. Will you?”

He swallowed. “Sure, Aunt Vicky.”

Monica watched her sister reach into the closet and select a dress at random. It hadn’t been altered. Vicky had never threaded a needle in her life.

She took it out. It was a low-cut mini, a siren-red, slinky garment. She put it on the bed. She unzipped the dress she was wearing. Bruce watched her and swallowed again.

She pulled the top off her shoulders and uncovered her braless tits for just a flash before holding her hands to them again.

“Oh, my,” she said. “I shouldn’t be undressing like this in front of you. Honey, turn your head and don’t look.”

Bruce choked out a response and turned his head. Monica drew back from the crack in the bathroom door, because he seemed to be looking right at her. And then she remembered the mirror over the dresser right next to the door.

Vicky had planned that, too. She planned everything. Bruce wasn’t looking at her, but he was sure looking at her reflection in the mirror.

Monica saw his eyes go wide and moist. She saw his quick intake of breath. She saw the way his prick started to fill and lift almost immediately, stretching out the front of his pants.

He made a quick motion with his hand to hide it. That didn’t work. He scooted the thick shaft around in his pants until it was pointed up toward his belly.

Monica felt her cunt squirm and writhe. She sucked in her breath silently and held it. She stared at the line of his solid cock as hard as he stared at the naked image of Vicky in the mirror.

Vicky’s tits jigged and swung freely as she slipped out of the dress she was wearing. She wore transparent panties. They were flesh colored. They cupped the round, tight balls of her asscheeks like a second skin and didn’t hide the shadow of her deep cleft.

Per naked, bald cunt showed clearly through them, lips and slit and all, puffy and soft.

Bruce’s cock pounded in his pants. It swelled to that huge dimension and throbbed, the rigid line of it clear, right before Monica’s hungry eyes.

She didn’t have to worry about being spotted behind the door. Bruce wasn’t looking at the door. She could have stuck her hand through the crack and waved at him, and he wouldn’t have seen her. He stared fixedly at Vicky, watching her move and posture with calculated casualness as she made ready to slip into the red, slinky mini.

“Okay, honey,” she said after a moment. “You can turn around now.”

Bruce turned, just as if he hadn’t already seen that Vicky’s tits were still uncovered. He stared at them and licked his lips and didn’t even try to hide his monstrous hard-on any more.

“Oh, dear — I spoke too soon,” Vicky laughed lightly, pretending she had to struggle with the dress. She looked at him. Her tits hung out. She fumbled with the material and finally brought it up over her pointed tits, snugging it around them, making the nipples poke through the red satin.

“I… I’m sorry, Aunt Vicky,” Bruce stammered.

She zipped it up the back, making her tits thrust as she bent her arms behind her.

“Sorry for what, honey?”

“For-for turning around too soon like that.”

“Well, it’s not your fault, Brucie. I didn’t know this tight thing was going to give me trouble like that. Besides, I’ll bet a big boy like you doesn’t really mind getting a good look at his Aunt Vicky’s tits. Do you? Huh?” she teased, smiling at him. “Do you, Bruce? Come on, tell me the truth.”

He broke into a wide, nervous grin. “Heck no,” he said.

“Anyway, my tits look exactly like your mother’s, and I’ll bet you’ve seen her tits lots of times, haven’t you?”

“N-No,” he said.

“Hey, honey, you don’t have to kid me. This is Aunt Vicky. I know better than that. Come on, tell me — you’ve snuck a look now and then, haven’t you?”

“Well… yeah,” he choked, grinning again, his face flushed.

“And not just her tits, either, I’ll bet. Have you seen her cute little ass?”

“N-Not really, Aunt Vicky,” he stammered.

“Well, we’ll take care of that right now, honey. You look at mine all you want. It’s just like your mother’s.”

She lifted the hem of the dress in back and turned her ass toward him, flipping the satin material up. She gave him a good moon, thrusting her asscheeks out, making everything plainly visible through the transparent panties.

“Aunt Vicky!” he gasped.

She laughed lightly and dropped her skirt. “Oh, don’t Aunt Vicky me, honey. I know about guys your age. You aren’t shocked. If you’re so shocked, how come you’ve got such a big hard-on in there?” she said, pointing at his crotch.

Bruce looked down. He went red all over. He stood there and didn’t know what to do.

“I-I’d better go do my homework now, Aunt Vicky,” he stammered finally. He made a move toward the door, and Vicky stepped in front of him, stopping him.

That sultry, sexual fever sizzled from her eyes and reduced him to a rooted, flustered, awkward boy. Monica watched him. She had the sudden urge to fling open the bathroom door and charge into the room and put an end to this.

It was her son — her Bruce and her twin sister was ready to move in for the kill. She didn’t want to watch. And yet she felt as helpless as he did.

She clamped her hand over her cunt and squeezed hard, trying to still the tingling in it. She only made it worse. And she knew she was going to sit right there and watch it happen.

“No you don’t, honey,” Vicky said, lifting her arms to him. “You can’t walk out on me like that, Brucie. You’ll give me a complex.”

“What — I don’t know what you mean, Aunt Vicky,” he stammered, swallowing hard again.

“Why, you’re going to make me think you’re afraid of me. Are you afraid of me, honey?”

“No — of course not,” he choked.

She looked at him teasingly. “Oh, I see. Just of girls in general, is that it?”

“No,” he said more firmly. “Heck, I’m not afraid of girls.”

“How about Nancy?”

“Gosh, no, Aunt Vicky!” he laughed shakily.

“Have you kissed her yet?”

“Sure. Lots of times,” he added, not too convincingly.

“What else have you done with her? Have you seen her tits?”

“She’s not that kind of girl!”

“Have you felt them? Did you ever put your hand on her big soft tit and give it a good squeeze? Huh?”

“S-Sure,” he said. She looked at him with twinkling eyes, holding his gaze for a long moment. He glanced away finally. “Well, no. I brushed against it once, though.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere. Now we’re getting the truth. You don’t have to be afraid of the truth with me, sweetie. I’m not like your father. There’s nothing to be ashamed of if you aren’t a big fucker like he is yet. He had to start sometime too, you know.”

Bruce choked over the word, but he came up grinning. “You really mean that, Aunt Vicky? I mean, that it doesn’t make me a pansy because — because I haven’t ever… you know.”

“Fucked?” Vicky said, mouthing the word with her full, sensuous lips.

“Yeah!” Bruce gasped, growing bolder. “Fucked!”

“Of course not, darling,” Vicky said, putting her soft, warm palm to the side of his face.

“Gosh, Aunt Vicky — I sure like talking to you. You don’t know how good that makes me feel. Dad rides me about it until I can’t stand it. And then I end up looking at Nancy in a way I know I shouldn’t be looking at her, wanting to do things and all, and then I feel dirty and guilty.”

He went on. Monica listened. She felt sorry for him. He was almost pitiful. He had more hang-ups than she would ever have believed. They were all there for her to see before, but Vicky was bringing them all out in the open, where Monica could see them.

She suddenly didn’t mind any more that Vicky was going to cherry him tonight. He needed it. He needed it badly.

Vicky stood right in front of him after he’d talked himself out. She looked up at him and slowly twined her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him.

“Bruce, you’ve been honest with me just now. I’m glad. But now I have to be honest with you. I didn’t ask you to come in here to look at my dress.”

He pulled back slightly and swallowed again. “Oh?”

“Can’t you guess why, honey?”

“N-No,” he stammered.

She pushed her pointed tits against his chest. He looked down at them. She moved her chest and rubbed her tits back and forth, making him feel the stiff, rubbery nipples.

“Can you guess now?”

“I… Aunt Vicky, I…”

“There’s just the two of us in the house, Bruce. All night long. Doesn’t that give you any ideas?”

He looked up at the ceiling, in imitation of thinking hard. Vicky moved in closer, until her cunt was cupping the stiff, throbbing line of his prick. She swayed her ass back and forth, making her cunt mound rub against his hard cock.

“How about that?” she breathed. “Are you getting ideas yet?”

“Aunt Vicky…” he gasped.

“Don’t be afraid, Bruce. Put your arms around me. I won’t bite. Come on. Around my waist,” she urged, moving his arms for him.

His teeth nearly chattered. He gasped and puffed. His face was red and quivery. His arms went around her waist slowly.

“Mmm, that’s nice,” Vicky sighed, leaning against him, rubbing her tits and cunt all over his front. “You can hold my ass in your hands, honey. Go ahead. I gave you a look at it. Now hold it and feel how tight and firm and round my ass is. I know you want to.”

“Ohhhh…” he moaned.

Monica watched. Vicky didn’t help him this time. His hands slid along her back slowly and hesitantly. They moved toward her round asscheeks. Then he was palming them. He slid his hands up and down her ass, and then he squeezed gently.

“Ohhh, that’s nice, Bruce. You have nice hands. You have a gentle, thrilling touch. You don’t know what you’re making poor Nancy miss out on, honey. Believe me, I know what a woman likes. I know what she’d like. She’d like this. She’d like more than this. It’s not so hard to do, is it? Feeling a girl’s ass?”

“N-No,” he gasped.

“Lift the back of my skirt, Bruce. Go ahead. I want you to. Don’t be afraid.”

“Aunt Vicky…!” he gasped quaveringly.

He puffed and wheezed. Then his fingers caught in the satin material and began bunching it. The skirt rose up over her round asscheeks. The transparent panties came into view. He looked over her shoulder at the pert globes and sucked in his breath.

“Slide them into my panties, Bruce. Feel my ass when it’s naked! Touch my bare ass and knead the cheeks the way you’re dying to! Ohhh, I can feel your big prick throbbing hard against my cunt, darling!”

“Oh, God — God!” he gasped.

He didn’t hesitate any more. He thrust his hands under the flimsy panties and cupped her tight cheeks strongly, kneading them, feeling them, running his hands all over her ass.

Vicky moaned and pressed against him and moved her hips back and forth, rubbing against his throbbing, pounding prick all the while.

Monica’s cunt began tingling terribly again. Deep throbs thudded through her abdomen, and she cupped her cunt and squeezed hard, letting her thumb slide over the top of her cleft where her clit was, pretending the sensation came from Bruce’s hard cock rubbing against it.

“Ohhhh, baby, that feels good!” Vicky moaned. “God, your hands sliding and kneading all over my ass, and your big hard prick up against my cunt! My hot, watering cunt! Ohhh, Brucie, you shouldn’t deny Nancy this wonderful sensation any longer!”

“Ohhhh, Aunt Vicky…” Bruce gasped.

“That’s it! Ohhh, it’s all right, darling, go ahead and do it! Slip your fingers into my crack again! Ahhh, all the way in it, Bruce! Yes! Oh, yes!”

“God! Oh, God! It’s so deep! So soft and warm and deep between your asscheeks!”

“Ohhhh, God… no, don’t take your finger away, honey! It’s all right! Touch my asshole again! Mmm, I love having my asshole fingered, don’t you? Don’t you, darling?”

“I — yes!” he gasped. “It feels good when I do it to myself!”

“Is that what you do when you jack off, Bruce? Do you touch your asshole? Do you fuck your finger up your sweet, warm asshole?”

“Oh-h-h…” he moaned quaveringly. “Yes! Yes!”

“No, wait, honey — not yet! It isn’t slippery yet. Your finger needs to be slippery, darling. Do you know how to get it slippery and warm and all wet?”

“I-I use… Mom’s cold cream…” he gasped.

“You don’t need that with me, darling. I’m a woman. There’s another place to get your finger all slippery on a woman.”


“Do it, Bruce!”

“Ohhh, Aunt Vicky!”

“Do it! Reach! Ahhh, that’s it — now up! Here, let me spread my legs a little more for you. Ah! Yes, darling! Up! Slide it up my hot cunt and get it all wet!”

“Ohhh, Aunt Vicky!” he cried, gasping loudly. “Your pussy! It feels so slippery and soft and hot! God! God, I love it! My first pussy! Ohhh, Aunt Vicky!”

She ground her hips against him, making his cock ride in the groove of her thighs and cunt, dry-fucking him. He began to shiver. His finger traced from her asshole under her crotch to the mouth of her steaming cunt.

He shoved it deep, the tip writhing and wriggling, exploring the warmth and silkiness of this new, delightful cavern of female cunt. His knees went rubbery, and he gasped again and again.

“Aunt Vicky! Aunt — Vicky…” he choked suddenly.

“It’s all right, darling! Ohhhh, yes! Fuck my cunt with your finger and let it all go, Brucie! Come! It’s all right darling — come hard!”

“Ahhhh! Aunt Vicky!” he gurgled. “Yaaaagh!”

He pulled her ass toward him. His finger shot all the way up her cunt. His prick throbbed and bucked inside his pants. It pounded in the cupping hollow her hips and watering twat made. He shuddered mightily, and his prick exploded, flooding his pants with hot, young cum.

“Ahhhhh!” he cried again, nearly weeping with the joy and shame combined.

Monica watched and listened. Her hand swirled over her wet, drooling cunt. She closed her eyes for just a moment and imagined she was Vicky and that Bruce was coming against her, making his pants wet over the feel of her pussy.

She shivered and twirled her clit and reached a small orgasm with her son, and it was a thrilling, dizzying sensation for her that left her gasping.

“Aunt Vicky!” Bruce wailed, looking ashamed. “I came! Oh, damn! I did it in my pants! Oh, damn! Now you’re going to think I’m just a dumb kid who can’t hold it and do things right!”

“Ohhh, baby — it’s all right! Honest, it is! I’m glad! Ohh, I’m glad you came for me!”

“You are?”

She backed away from him just enough to get her hand between them. She rubbed his erect cock through his pants with the palm of her hand, feeling the dampness already soaking through.

“Mmmm, that was a big load, honey. Mmmm, I love it!”

“Ohhh, it’s a mess, Aunt Vicky,” he groaned.

“Let’s see if it’s a mess,” she said.

She slid his zipper down. He groaned again, trying to stop her from doing that and showing both of them what, a mess he’d made, what a shameful failure he was as a fucker — just the way his father always said he was.

But Vicky wouldn’t be dissuaded. When his zipper was down, she undid his belt buckle and the snap and dropped his pants. She pulled down his shorts. They wadded over his thighs, soaked with jism. His prick stood out rigidly, throbbing with youthful eagerness still.

“Ohhhh, Bruce!” she gasped.

She hadn’t meant to put so much feeling in her voice. He took it wrong. He thought she was berating him for the mess. She was actually gasping over the size of his big fat cock.

He started to pull his pants back up, and she stopped him. “Bruce! What a cock!” she cried. “God, I love it!”

Monica didn’t know if it was by accident or calculated design that Vicky turned him slightly so that his prick faced the bathroom door for her to see it, but she was suddenly staring through the crack at the full, rigid, throbbing girth of her son’s enormous prick!

Cum ran down the side of it. More bubbled out the tip as Vicky jacked her hand up and down the heavy length of his cock. It flowed down the shaft and ran over her knuckles.

“Ohhhh, Aunt Vicky!” Bruce moaned. “You… you mean you don’t mind all that mess?”

“Mind? I’ll show you how much I mind it,” Vicky said huskily.

There was a new quality to Vicky’s voice. Some of the coolness was gone, replaced by heat and lust. Her tongue came out and swept over her soft lips, wetting them.

“Aunt Vicky! What are you doing! Ohhhhhh, God — God!” Bruce cried, nearly beside himself with passion.

Vicky was moving her fingers up and down his prick, through the drooling cum. Then she was wiping the hot jism on her face and lips, bathing herself with it. Then she opened her mouth and sucked it down over the head of the big cock and moaned.


Monica watched. She shuddered with lust. Flavor burst through her senses when there wasn’t any reason for it to. She watched the image of herself suck down over the big prick and lick the bubbling cum from the eye with the tip of her tongue.

She shook her hand over her cunt and remembered how it had been when she’d sucked Gil’s cock all the way the other morning. She swallowed and swallowed as she watched her sister lick and lap all over the wet prick.

“Ahhhhh!” Bruce grunted tightly, tipping his head back with bliss and shock combined.

“Mmmm, I love it!” Vicky cried. She licked her lips and swallowed again and again, running her fingers all over his cock at the same time, petting it and fondling it.

“Oh, Aunt Vicky!” Bruce choked.

“You can see how much I love it, darling — can’t you? Oh, Bruce — don’t you dare deny Nancy a drink of your sweet young cum! She’d love it too! I know, Bruce — I’m a woman, and I know!”

“Nancy, Nancy!” he cried with an odd sound.

Vicky wrapped her arms around his hips and ass and guided him toward the bed, making him back into it. He sat. His prick jutted and strained from his lap.

“Aunt Vicky — what are you — going to do?” he gasped.

He looked down at her, watching her get to her knees in front of him. He looked down the front of her dress and ogled the pointed, firm tits there, and his prick throbbed again.

“I’m going to take off these messy pants, Bruce,” Vicky said. She pulled at them and got them to his knees. She laid her cheek along his thigh and sighed, her fingers cupping his balls and fondling his prick.

“Aunt Vicky!” he gasped, wanting to touch the back of her head and hold her against his crotch, and yet afraid to.

She lifted her head and smiled sweetly and hotly. She pushed at his chest gently. “Lie back, darling. Let Aunt Vicky slip your pants off.”

“Ohhh,” he moaned, leaning backward. He kept looking, though. His prick strained with unbelievable rigidity. It pulsed with every beat of his heart. Vicky slipped his pants off his legs.

She stood up then. She looked down at him, lying back on his elbows, his legs partly spread, his hot balls bunched into a tight knot under the base of his big cock soaring upward like a waving flagpole.

“What…?” he gasped, the sound more a grunt than a question. He watched her. His cock throbbed and beat. His eyes stared at her hungrily as she reached behind her back to run the zipper down.

“I’m going to take my dress off, sweetie,” she said. “It’s no fair for you to be lying there with your prick thrusting so beautifully into the air while I’m fully dressed, is it?”

“Ahhhh…” he whimpered. His cock jerked and bucked.

Vicky slipped the red, clinging satin from her shoulders and let it slip silkily from the points of her tits. Bruce stared at her tits and licked his lips. She smiled again.

“There, darling. Now you can look at them all you want to. Look closely, Bruce, and you’ll see exactly what your mother’s tits look like.”

“Ohhhh, God — they’re beautiful, Aunt Vicky!” She hooked her thumbs into the material at her waist and pushed. The red satin slid over her hips and fell with a whisper down her thighs to the floor. She stepped out of the puddle it made, and she braced her thighs slightly apart and put her hands on her hips and let him stare at the outline of her puffy-lipped cunt through the transparent panties.

“There’s my cunt, darling,” she whispered.

“Look at it. Feast your eyes on it. Drink the sight in and remember it. It’s just like your mother’s cunt.”

His eyes bulged from his head. His mouth opened, and he panted through it.

“Aunt Vicky — your cunt… it’s… it doesn’t have any… any hair on it!”

“Just like your mother’s sweet cunt, honey. We shaved it off. Don’t you think that’s exciting?”

“I can — see it!” he croaked. “I can see everything! Your cuntlips — the crack between them… ohhh, Aunt Vicky, it’s not at all like the pusses in the girlie magazines. They’ve got so much hair that even when they face the camera with their legs open you can’t see their cunts, because of all the hair.”

Vicky tipped her head back and laughed softly. “Well, you can see all of mine, honey. And your mother’s. Here, I’ll slip off my panties, and you can see it even better.”

She hooked her thumbs in the waist of the panties and pushed. The garment wadded and rolled into a frothy web at her hips. Then it swept over them and slipped down her thighs, and Vicky stood before him in all her shaved, silky beauty, letting him gorge himself on the sight of her curving, youthful body.

Monica could see it all. She couldn’t help looking at her sister’s gorgeous body herself, knowing that hers was identical to it in every respect.

She looked at her son’s face and his reaction to the sight, and the expression was thrilling to behold. It made her wish she hadn’t been so prudish. It made her wish she were standing there in front of him now instead of Vicky.

There was lust in his expression — youthful and innocent and eager. There was awe. There was a sense of wonder and amazement and a dizzying something she couldn’t quite define.

His prick was like a bar of iron, reaching, stretching, throbbing, pulsing. Monica looked at her son’s cock and moaned quietly behind the bathroom door and swirled her hand over her cunt again and again until the sounds of wetness were so loud they would surely give her away.

“Ohhhh, Aunt Vicky…” Bruce whimpered finally.

He couldn’t restrain himself any longer. Even if she were watching him, he simply had to grab his prick and start jacking it, before it burst apart and covered them both with the boiling contents of his balls.

“Ohhh, I can’t help it!” he moaned. “Aunt Vicky…”

His hand swept up and down his cock. Vicky moved quickly, going between his legs and holding his arm, making him stop.

“Is-is that bad to do, Aunt Vicky? Is that why you want me to stop? Oh, shit — did I do something wrong again?”

“Of course not, Bruce,” Vicky said sweetly. “It’s exciting to watch you jack your cock like that. But I don’t want you to waste all that luscious cum again.”

“Waste it, Aunt Vicky?”

“Honey, don’t call me Aunt Vicky. Pretend I’m your mother. You can’t really tell us apart, you know.”

“Sure, I can! She’d never do anything like this with me!” he gasped.

“I think she would. I think maybe she’s been a little afraid to, that’s all. Just the way you were afraid a few minutes ago. But you don’t look afraid any more,” she laughed, holding his prick and waggling it, making him laugh nervously.

“You mean you think Mom…?” he started.

Vicky nodded solemnly. “I don’t just think, Bruce — I know. She’s been peeking at your prick just as hard as you’ve been peeking at her tits and ass and trying to see her cunt.”

Bruce stared at her with disbelief. “But she’s got Dad,” he said. “That morning he left — I heard them in here fucking! I know that’s what they were doing, Aunt Vicky. And then she came out and — and…”

“Honey, that was a long time ago. Weeks. She hasn’t had any fucking since then. When Gil goes off for a month at a time like this, she gets very hot, very horny. She looks at you, believe me. And she’d just love to have this big cock far up inside her hot cunt — just as much as you want to put it there.”

“Ohhh, Aunt Vicky…” he gasped.

She squeezed her hand around his heavy shaft. She felt the rumbling and stretching going on inside it. She looked down at the top of it and saw the big eye pulse open and closed.


“I can’t help it!” he cried.

“It’s all right, darling — come again!”

She jacked her hand up and down his prick and then opened her mouth wide and sucked down over the head of it. She twisted her head as she sucked. Her lips kept expanding and going down.

Down and down — clear to the root of his big cock.

Monica watched. Then she stared. Then she gaped with bulging eyes. Her throat spasmed as she watched the mirror image of herself take that big prick halfway to her belly.

“YAAAGH!” Bruce shouted.

There was nothing restrained about it this time. He opened his mouth and throat and let the sound rumble out full blast. His hips lifted high from the bed as his prick disappeared into the warm, wet cavity of Vicky’s sucking throat.

His jism boiled and spewed from the end of his youthful cock. It hosed into her throat and shot in strings into her belly. His cum backed up and filled her mouth and drooled from her compressed, sucking, sliding lips.

It was too much for Monica. Her son twisted and thrashed on the bed, his prick completely inside Vicky’s mouth. She shoved three fingers up her sucking, swimming cunt and came violently with him, permitting herself to groan and mewl, knowing that the sounds would be covered by his own bellowing.

She rocked back and forth on the top of the hamper and nearly spun off it. Her legs shot out in front of her, stiff and apart. Her fingers wriggled and shook in her spasming cunt and milked the slippery honey from it.

“Ah! Ah! Aunt Vicky! My God! You ate my cock! God! Oh-h-h, it was wonderful!”

Vicky sucked her mouth back off his prick, doing it slowly, using her tongue along the bottom to milk the last drops of jism out of it.

She lifted back and licked her lips and smiled. She fondled his prick with her fingers, hefting his balls, planting kisses on the insides of his thighs. She looked at him and laughed lightly when he was finished tossing and rolling and groaning.

“There, now — that wasn’t so bad, was it? Were you frightened that time, darling?”

“Ohhh, no!” he groaned.

“Your prick is still hard,” she said. “Look at the way it stands up and throbs and demands even more.”

“It-it’s that way, Aunt Vicky.”

“Shall we give it some more, Brucie?”

He sucked in his breath and shivered and looked at her. He licked his lips. He couldn’t believe all this was really happening to him.


“Y-Yes!” he gasped.

Vicky straightened up and thrust out her chest. Her tits jiggled and pointed at him.

“All right,” she said.

“You mean it?” he gasped. “You really mean it?”

“Of course, darling. But that’s the last I’m going to give away. If you want more from me, you’re going to have to come after it yourself.”

He grinned shakily. He licked his lips. His hot gaze wavered.

“Are you still afraid of me, honey? Don’t be. You can have whatever you want, I promise. I just want you to get out of the habit of waiting for it to come to you. I want you to be bold, Bruce. Take the initiative. Come after me the way you’re going to go after Nancy. And… and after your mother!”

“Ohhh, Aunt Vicky!” he gasped.

“That’s the other condition, honey,” she said. “You’ll stop calling me Aunt Vicky. Pretend I’m your mother. Call me Mom, darling, and come fuck that big wonderful prick into Mom’s hot, sweet cunt!”

“God! God!” Bruce cried, shaking his head back and forth, as if to clear the wonderful dream from it and bring himself back to the real world.

But she was still there. She was thrusting her tits at him. She was standing with her legs parted and her bald, slick, sweet cunt half-open.

He could see the pink meat of her cunt inside the parted, puffy lips. He could see the sweet honey glistening there. He remembered the feel of that slippery pussy around his embedded finger, and he transferred the feeling mentally to his prick, and his cock shuddered and jerked wildly.

“Ohhhh, Aunt — Mom!” he gasped.

“That’s it, honey. Reach for them. Feel my tits. Squeeze them and suck on them. Play with them all you want to. Make them feel good.”

He reached up. He didn’t have to urge her down much. She came willingly, easing him a step at a time toward the goal she was after — that of making him reach more aggressively.

Not like Gil. Not like a half-raping stallion. But somewhere in the middle, somewhere normal, between where he was and where Gil was.

Monica saw the plan clearly then. Thrills chased through her. There was gladness and relief and still some waves of shame, but she was happy.

She watched her son reach out timidly and then with growing boldness for her sister’s tits. He squeezed the cones. He ran the tips of his fingers over them. He tested the rubbery substance of her nipples. He put his face to her tits and rubbed his cheek along the soft, firm, silky skin.

“Ohhhh, I love them, Aunt — Mom,” he groaned. “They’re beautiful tits!”

“Have you really peeked at my tits before, Bruce? Answer me, you naughty boy. Have you tried to look at your mother’s tits?”

“Yes, Mom,” he grinned into her flesh, shivering with excitement at the game they were playing.

“Did you want to feel them then? Did you want to suck them?”


“Then suck them now!”

“Ohhh, M-Mom!” he stammered.

Vicky pushed her chest toward him. She smiled. She felt his lips and tongue suck around the end of her tit. She cupped the back of his head and held him to her tit as if she were nursing him.

She turned her head slowly and looked toward the crack in the bathroom door. She winked very slowly and broadly, knowing that Monica could see her, that she had witnessed all of it so far.

“Mmm, that’s good, Bruce,” Vicky moaned. “Suck Mom’s tit. Oooo, don’t bite so hard, honey. Don’t cause pain. Mom doesn’t like pain, and neither will Nancy when you suck her tits.”

“Ahhh, God!” he groaned, beside himself with heat.

He sucked and sucked. The wet sounds were lewd. After quite some time of it, Vicky looked down at him.

“Is that all you’re going to do, honey? Just suck Mom’s tits?”

“I — no, Mom…” he gasped. “I want…”

“Yes? You want to do something else?” Vicky prompted. She shifted her torso slightly. She made her thighs part suggestively. She didn’t put his hand on her cunt. He was going to have to do that all by himself.

“Can I… Mom, can I — touch it?”

“Touch what, darling?”

“Your cunt! Your shaved, bald cunt!”

“Just touch it, Brucie?”

“Finger it! Fuck my finger up it again! Feel all that hot, wet cunt flesh!”

“Just your finger?”

“No — my prick! Mom, my prick!” he cried.

He gasped and shuddered. He cupped his hand over the whole of her naked crotch. There was nothing hesitant about him this time. In fact, he was too aggressive.

“Bruce, take it easy!” Vicky commanded. “Not so hard! A girl doesn’t like to be grabbed and raped, for God’s sake!”

Bruce looked at her as if she’d whipped him. He whimpered and collapsed against her in confusion. Vicky sighed and stroked the back of his head.

“I’m sorry, honey,” she said gently. “I didn’t mean to snap at you that way, but there’s a limit. Nancy wouldn’t like having you grab at her cunt like that. And Mom doesn’t like it either. Now let’s start over, nice and easy.”

She coaxed him. She urged him. She played with his stiff prick and kept him boiling hot. Then she lay back at his gentle insistence and let him part her thighs.

“Ohhh, God,” Vicky moaned, suddenly catching fire. “That’s it, darling, that’s the way. Ohhhh, yes — like that!”

“Oh, Mom — I can’t get enough of your sweet pussy!” he gasped, stroking her cuntlips over and over with gentle fingers. He slipped one up and down her gap, fondling the hairless twat, gazing into it as he opened her cuntlips wide and exposed the shimmering, slippery pinkness inside.

He put his face very near. Vicky moaned and bucked her hips up and couldn’t resist cupping the back of his head and pulling his mouth against her steaming cunt.

“God, Bruce — lick my pussy! Eat it! Make me come, honey!”

“Oh-h-h,” he groaned shudderingly.

He resisted. A cunt was a strange thing, wet and steamy and funny-smelling. But the pressure of her hand was strong, and he didn’t want to screw up any more than he had already.

His mouth opened. His lips came against hers. He tasted the musky sweetness of her slippery juices flowing from inside her sweet hole, and he whimpered shudderingly.

“Ahhh, it’s good!” he cried. “Mom — I’m going to eat your cunt!”

He plastered his mouth over her whole pussy and shook from head to toe. Vicky cried out with passion and arched up, her tits jiggling on her chest, her cunt flaps being sucked into the depths of his warm mouth.

“Yaaah!” she cried. “Eat my cunt! Suck it! Lick it! Fuck your tongue into it! Ahhhhgh! That’s the way! Ohhh, what a cunt-licking lover!”

Monica watched. It was happening again. Just the same as with the delivery boy. Only this was her son. He was going absolutely wild over the shaved cunt.

She could see his lips flare out over her sister’s juicy hole. She could see the way his tongue worked back and forth and fucked into the slippery meat of her cunt.

She shivered and raped her own drooling, spasming pussy with her fingers again and again, feeling the thrust of his tongue into her own cunt every time it shot into Vicky’s.

She was hot. She was more than hot. She was ready to explode from the bathroom and fling herself onto the bed and join them. She should be getting all that loving from her son, not Vicky.

But she stayed where she was. She couldn’t risk undoing all that Vicky had done so far. Bruce was a changed boy. Things would be different from now on.

“Ahhh, honey!” Vicky cried. “You’re going to make Mom come! Ohhh, just like Daddy, Bruce! You’re going to suck Mom into a big, wet orgasm!”

“Yes! Ohhh, yes!” he cried.

He shook all over. He thrust his head back into her steaming crotch. He fucked her with his tongue and his lips, and there was no hesitancy or fear about the way he did it at all.

Vicky heaved and tossed under him. She wasn’t in control any more. Not right at that instant, anyway. Her cunt ran a stream, and his lapping tongue was there to lick it up and swallow down the new, exciting juice.

“Yes! Oh, yes!” she cried, splitting her thighs open, wrapping them about his head. “I’m coming! Darling — you’re making Mom come! Here… ohhhh, here it comes Bruce! YAHHHH!”

She gave a sharp twist. Her asscheeks bumped up and down on the bed. Her hand mashed against the back of his head and glued his mouth to her blasting cunt.

He stayed with her all the way, as if he were the most experienced cunt-sucker around. He lapped and lapped. He sucked the nub of her clit. He rimmed her cunt mouth and dipped into the brown pucker of her asshole and then shoved his tongue all the way up her sweltering, spasming pussy hole.

“Ahhh, that was wonderful, Bruce!” Vicky cried finally.

She lifted up slightly and clung to him and smiled warmly. She let her cunt stay hanging open, right under his face. It sucked and pulsed and dribbled with the last little shivers of orgasm.

“Did I do it right, Aunt Vicky?” he asked, smiling happily, knowing damn well he had.

“Not Aunt Vicky, darling,” she said. “We’re not finished yet. Are we?”

“I hope not, Mom,” he ginned shakily. “Oh? Is there something else you want to do?”

“You know there is!”

“Now, I wonder what that would be,” Vicky grinned, reaching forward, wrapping her fingers around his reaching, straining, pulsing, iron-hard cock.

“I want to fuck you,” he said boldly. “Tell me more, darling.”

“I want to slip my big hard prick into your hot cunt and slide it back and forth and fuck you until we both blast off!”

“Ohhh, that’s sweet music to my ears!”

“Then get ready, Mom! I’m going to fuck you!” He covered her. She went down under him, flinging her legs wide, cupping his body with her steaming, jumping crotch.


Monica sucked in her breath. She watched the lift of her son’s round ass. She saw the crack between his cheeks, the balls dangling between his thighs, the thrust of his giant prick.

She watched the way her sister spread out under him, and she was churning with envy. She swirled her hand over her cunt again and again, but fingers just weren’t enough any more.

She searched quickly for the item she knew was in the bathroom, making a clatter and banging they should have heard. She didn’t care if they heard her any more. She was ready to go out and snatch her son from her sister and take his cherry prick into her own cunt.

Her fingers squeezed around the new, slick tube of toothpaste. She hurried back to the hamper. She lifted one leg and looked through the crack in the door and spread her cuntlips with the fingers of one hand and held the tube with the other.

It was a huge tube — the family size. She timed it just right. She watched her son’s ass lower. She watched his prick throb and shake as it neared Vicky’s bald little cunt mouth.

“Ah! Ah!” he gasped suddenly. “Aunt Vicky! Mom! God! Ohhh, I can’t hold… YAAAAGH!”

“Oh, God! You’re coming! It’s all right, darling! Ohhh, don’t waste it all! Fuck it into me! Fuck — ah! Ahhhh!”

His prick trembled wildly as the tip hovered over her spread-open cunt mouth. Then it exploded, blasting the hole and the puffy lips and her whole crotch with scalding cum.

His prick spurted and spewed, showered her crotch, bathing every inch of her pink flesh. Vicky reached between their bodies quickly and gripped his cock and pulled.

Her pussy mouth sucked up and down, wet from her own juices, wetter still from his flood of cum.

She drew the head of his spewing prick into her hole. Cum spewed and splashed everywhere as jets blasted off her tissues from point-blank range.

And then he was shooting into her as his cock slid and tumbled and thrust into her sodden, slippery cunt hole.

She pulled tightly at his ass, yanking him into her, drinking up the blasting fountain with her sucking cunt.

He plowed against her, their bodies sliding and slipping together through the lubricating juices. He plunged all the way up her cunt and made her hips tip up and toss and her mouth fall open widely.

“OH, GOD!” she cried throatily.

His prick was huge. It filled her tiny cunt completely. The blasting stream from it hosed as hard in her pussy as it had over her crotch.

It stretched into her body with each pump of jism, with each spasm of his climax, and it was one of the biggest, hardest, most exciting pricks she’d ever fucked her cunt around.

Monica watched her sister lunge and thrash. She saw the way Vicky’s arms flew around Bruce’s neck and hugged him to her. She heard the moaning and whimpering of their incredibly wet union, and she fucked the big slick tube of toothpaste up her cunt as far as it would go.

She pumped it back and forth. The tube made sloshing sounds in her wet cunt. It was hard, but it yielded just enough to the squeezing of her cunt muscles to feel good.

“Mom! God! Ohhh, your pussy! I’ve never felt anything so wonderful! God! Ohhh, I’m going to come again!”

“Yes! Yes, darling! Me too! Ohhh, fuck it into me, Bruce! God, give it to me again!”

Vicky was shocked. He’d just sucked her off to a big orgasm, and she was ready again. Just like a teenager with steamy panties. God, it was great to fuck kids!

“Ahhhhh!” she groaned loudly. “I’m coming, Bruce! Fuck me! Fuck Mom and Aunt Vicky and Nancy and everybody! Fuck them all with your big, blasting prick!”

“I am!” he cried. “Here it comes! Ohhh, God!”

He whimpered and moaned. He ground his hips against her split-open crotch. He rammed his big prick all the way up her body and let the spasms sweep through him again.

His cum blasted and hosed. He filled her cunt full. It ran and spurted from between her naked pussylips and his plunging shaft and coated their thighs and crotches with still another load.

Monica whistled through her nose as she watched them. The tube flew in and out of her dripping cunt. She pumped her hips against it and rolled her clit with her thumb and she exploded with them, her yearning pussy squeezing spasmodically around the big tube until she weaved dizzily and had to sit down.

She panted and watched them through the crack. Vicky had done it. It was over. He was cherried now. He was a stud.

And she was ready and eager to fuck her son.

“Go ahead, Monica,” Vicky said with a taunting smile. “What are you waiting for?”

“I’m still afraid.”

“I thought you were ready now. That’s what you told me last night after he went to bed.”

“Did you have to fuck him so much, Vicky?” she asked snappishly.

Vicky laughed softly. “No, I didn’t have to. I wanted to. He learned very fast. I liked it, darling. And you liked watching, too. I heard you in there, coming and coming. Your cunt must be rubbed raw by now.”

“It is,” Monica said. “But did you have to do everything? You could have left me something to give him so that it would be new for him.”

“Darling, I did,” Vicky smiled. She leaned closer to her sister and put her hand out. She cupped Monica’s pointed tit through the filmy nightie and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“What?” Monica said. “I didn’t see anything you left out. You jacked him off, you sucked him clear down your throat, you fucked him, you made him eat your pussy and tits. What else is left, Vicky, for God’s sake!”

Vicky smiled again. “The best of all, sweetie.” She moved her hand and kneaded gently. “Your ass.”

Monica whipped her head around and gasped. “Oh, God!”

“That big prick right up your ass, darling — hosing and squirting, giving you a hot, white enema!”

“Ohhhh…” Monica groaned, shivering wildly.

Her asscheeks clamped together. The squeezing of Vicky’s hand was like an electric current through her body. She remembered the huge, stuffing feel of Gil’s prick fucking up her ass the night before he left, and she didn’t know if she could take that again.

But it wouldn’t be Gil’s pick this time. It would be Bruce’s young cock. Her son’s.

“Go on, now,” Vicky urged. “Quit stalling. Keep the lights out so there’s no chance he’ll know. Then go in there and pretend you’re me and let him fuck you silly.”

Monica shivered again, a small sound escaping her lips. It was so deceitful, so shameless, so perverted. But her cunt was so hot she couldn’t stand it any more. And she knew that Bruce would freeze up if he suspected he was really fucking his mother.

Vicky pushed. Monica got off the bed wordlessly. She felt lightheaded. With each step toward the door, there was growing realization that she was on her way into her son’s room to fuck his prick into her body.

There was something ancient about it, something with the flavor of a ritual. She felt the film nightie whisper against her bare legs and flow around her naked, round asscheeks and slip against her bald cunt and pouting nipples, and she sucked in her breath with terrible heat flashing through her.

“Go on,” Vicky urged. “Don’t stop, Monica. Don’t stop, or you’ll never go.”

“I shouldn’t.”

“You want it. It’ll be good for him. It’ll be good for both of you. It might even be good for Gil. Maybe he won’t feel so superior any more. Like such a stud.”

“Gil?” Monica asked, her voice hollow and strange. “Good for Gil?”

“Sure. If he finds out, you’ll have a reason. Bruce is tender and gentle. That’s why. Maybe it’ll make him more tender, less of a raping bull.”

“Gil would kill him if he found out.” Her voice shook.

“I don’t think so. I think he’ll have mixed emotions. He’ll want to kill, and he’ll be proud at the same time. It’ll make him think. You’re not just a box for Bruce to bang. You’re his mother. How much more skill is there in seducing your mother than a hot young cunt? It’ll make Gil think.”

“But Bruce hasn’t seduced me. I’m doing it to him. You did it.”

“Gil doesn’t need to know that. Besides, maybe he’ll quit that damn oil job now — get himself off that rig before he ends up dead the way Stan did. He won’t want to leave you home along with Bruce any more. Or maybe he will, I don’t know. Better Bruce than catting around behind his back. Maybe he’ll look at it that way and be relieved.”

“Yes. He might.”

Monica stood in front of the door. Her voice sounded very funny to her. While she was talking about Gil, there was a cool remoteness to her thoughts, as if something were about to be resolved between them, as though she were asserting herself for the first time. Enough to make him listen finally.

It would be good. All around, it would be good.

She opened the door and stepped into the dark hall. She walked quickly down it. She didn’t knock on Bruce’s door. She opened it and went into his room.

There was a gasp. She heard the quick rustle of sheets. In stray light from outside, she saw that he was naked on the bed and that his cock was standing stiffly in the air. He pulled the sheet over it quickly and sat up and looked embarrassed.

“Aunt Vicky?” he whispered.

“Yes,” Monica said. Her heart pounded. She shut the door. “But don’t forget our little game, honey,” she said, trying to use Vicky’s words, Vicky’s inflections.

“How could I forget?” he whispered.

“Then what are you supposed to call me?”


She went to the bed and stood beside it. The light came through her nightie. He saw the outline of her body through it, and she shivered with the knowledge that she was nearly nude for him and would soon be fucking him.

“What were you doing when I came in, darling?” She saw the hump in the sheet. She reached forward brazenly, trying to still the trembling in her fingers. Vicky’s fingers wouldn’t be trembling right now.

“Aw, Aunt — Mom!” he gasped.

She caught hold of his stiff cock. Thrills chased through her body and made her moan.

“Ohhhh, Brucie — you were jacking off, weren’t you?”

“Yes! I couldn’t help it! I laid here and thought about what we did last night, and I was hoping you’d come in just the way you did! Ohhhh, Mom!” he gasped.

She sat on the bed with him. “You know what to do by now, don’t you, honey?” she said.

She shivered again. She was glad he knew. She didn’t have the nerve to initiate it beyond what she’d already done.

“You bet I do,” he said. “Come here, Mom. I’ve got a big hard prick. It’s right here, and you’ve got your hand around it, and it wants to fuck into your hot, wet cunt again.”

“Do you think you can have a little more control over yourself tonight, Brucie?” she asked.

“I-I can try, Mom.”

“Then I’ll — ohhh, God, I’ll let you fuck me, Bruce!” she gasped.

There! It was out! She’d said it!

“Ohhh, Mom!” he whimpered, reaching for her.

He reached for the tie on her nightie and undid it. Monica helped him. It slipped from her shoulders and bared her pointed, thrusting tits.

He cupped them in his hands and felt them. She gasped and drew in a shaking breath and leaned against him, swimming with heat, her bald cunt running already.

“Ohhh, they’re extra hard and big tonight, Mom,” Bruce whispered. “The nipples.”

“Oh, suck them, darling! Suck them! Suck Mom’s tits!”

Monica was nearly beside herself. Vicky’s words came easily to her lips. They should. She’d wanted to say them many times in the past.

Bruce gasped and held her tit in his hand and sucked his mouth down over the end of it. Monica moaned and lay back, feeling the wet warmth start at her tit end and spread through her whole body until she was aflame.

“God, darling! It’s good! Ohhh, Bruce!”

“Mom! Ohhh, I love you Mom! I love sucking your tits!”

“Is that all you love doing to your mom, honey?”

“Not by far, Mom!”

“Then do it! God, hurry up and do it!”

“Jesus, Mom!” he gasped. “You’re so different tonight!”

Monica stiffened. “Different?”

“Hot! Ready! Is this the way Nancy’s going to be, Mom?”

“Yes, darling — yes,” Monica sighed.

She was glad he’d said that. It made it more right somehow. Not as perverted. He wasn’t going to fall in love with his mother. He was still thinking of Nancy. Fucking his mother was merely training, the way learning to eat with good manners was training.

“Ohhhh, Bruce — take this nightie off me! Hurry, darling! Oh, gently, Bruce — gently.”

“Okay, Mom!” he gasped, keeping a check on himself.

His prick throbbed and bucked under her fingers. She lifted the sheet from it at the same time he was slipping the filmy garment off her body. They stared through the dimness at each other’s bodies at the same time.

“Ohhh, I love your bald curt, Mom! I love it! I want to suck it again!”

“Bruce! Oh, Bruce…” Monica gasped.

He didn’t pause. His fingers stroked up her thighs. Gently, tenderly. The way she’d always dreamed Gil would learn how to do it.

She felt his breath against her skin. Her legs parted of their own volition, spreading wide, making her slick, shameless cunt open with them and run slippery honey from its depths.

His breath puffed against her slit. His cheek touched her thigh. She arched up and put her hand to the back of his head and closed her eyes and nearly swooned when his mouth opened and his soft lips covered the whole of her cunt at once.

“Ahhhh, darling!” she cried tightly, arching up again.

His lips were all over her cunt. His tongue washed up and down her slit. It rolled the straining, flaming knob of her clitoral button and swept down again, massaging her flesh, steaming it up to unbelievable wetness and heat.

When his tongue thrust into her slippery, pulsing, sucking cunt hole, she let out a thin scream and came.

“Ahhh, darling!” she cried.

He attacked her then. His tongue thrust and stabbed. His lips compressed around her cunt and sucked the puffy flesh of her pussylips into his mouth. His fingers trailed all over her thighs and ass crack and teased her asshole and made it pulse wildly.

“God! God!” she gasped finally.

Bruce lifted his head and grinned at her through the dimness. “Gosh, Mom — that was quick!”

“That’s because — because you’re so good, Bruce,” she said, cupping the back of his head. She was pleased with herself for thinking so fast. It was better telling him that than telling him how hot she was.

“Am I really that good, Aunt Vicky?”

“Bruce,” she said. “I’m not Aunt Vicky. I’m your mother.”

Her heart pounded. She didn’t know why she felt she had to tell him. Maybe it was a last effort to back out before his prick entered the hole from which he had been born.

“Yeah, okay. I forgot.”

“You didn’t forget, darling. I’m your mother.”

“All right, Mom. I don’t know why you want me to say that. She wouldn’t ever come in here like this. She’d be too afraid.”

Monica looked at him. He didn’t really know. He thought she was Vicky.

“You were too afraid too, Bruce,” she said.

“I know. Not that I didn’t want to. But.”

“Do you think you could fuck her now, darling?”


“Then do it, Bruce! God, slip that big prick into my cunt and fuck me!”

He hesitated. He snorted through his nose with heat. He looked at her and shook his head.

“Boy, you’re sure different tonight.”

“And you talk too much. Nancy won’t like that.”

Bruce shut up then. He clamped his lips around her tit and sucked it deeply into his mouth. He kicked all the sheets and garments from the bed and held his thrusting prick in his hand. He came over her, gazing down.

“Look — I’m not coming yet!”

“Wait until that big cock is in my cunt. I’ll make it come!”

“I can hold it, Mom.”

“We’ll see.”

He touched the head to her cunt mouth. It was warm and velvety and open. Monica moaned and felt her pussy flesh spasm and drool lewdly.

Her thighs spread as widely as they could, and she lifted up with her hips, sucking his cock into her cunt with flexing, pulsing muscles and silky, oiled flesh.

“Ahhhhh, God!” she moaned.

“I’m not coming, Mom!” he grunted.

“You will! Ohhh, I’m going to fuck that big cock until it blows my cunt full of jism! Ohhh, I’m fucking it and fucking it! Can you feel me fuck it, darling! Ohhhh!”

Monica went wild. She couldn’t believe the sensations chasing through her. The prick was giant. It had the hardness of youthful vigor.

Her cunt sucked and pulsed all around it. Her tissues sucked and squeezed and drooled. She shook her ass up and down and made big circles with her hips.

She fucked his cock as if it were the most wonderful prick on earth, and she held nothing back.

“Ohhhh, I’m not coming!” Bruce gasped, gritting his teeth, holding on for all he was worth.

“Well, I am!” Monica cried.

What a joy! What a blessed, blissful fuck! She could do anything to his prick, and he didn’t end it with a big blast into her cunt and a heavy thud against her chest.

That was the way Gil did it. That was the way she was so tired of doing. And then she knew what Gil’s problem was. For all the women he’d fucked and bragged over, he’d learned only to fuck at them, not with them, the way Bruce was doing.

She reached high. It came to her. The huge waves of orgasm spilled and washed over her. She swirled her flooded cunt around his skewering cock and loved the most wonderful fucking she’d ever had.

Her cunt sucked and spasmed. Her heart pounded. Her arms flew about her son’s neck and hugged him tightly, and she felt a quivering scream come up from the depths of her body and pass between her lips and fill the room with sound.

“YAAAAGH! Darling! Bruce! Ohhh, fuck me, fuck me! Fuck your mother again and again!”

Bruce grunted and gasped. He held his prick fully into her cunt and let her twist and shudder around the stiff shaft.

“I’m — not… coming…” he gasped tightly.

Monica fell back. She was dizzy. She felt ready to black out. She gasped and panted. Her whole body tingled as it never had before. Her tits were swollen to twice their normal size, it seemed, and they were rock hard.

The nipples stood out from the ends of them, red and rubbery and long. Her whole ass quivered and shook. She felt his monstrously hard cock throb and jerk in the depths of her cunt, and she saw the way he gritted his teeth and kept himself from coming.

“Ohhhh, Bruce! You did it! You made me come, and you didn’t come yourself! Oh, you darling! You deserve a reward!”

“Ohhhh, Mom!” he gasped, his prick shuddering threateningly with her promise.

Monica slipped her cunt back from his cock quickly. She held the slippery pole. She gasped. She felt her asscheeks tighten and quake.

“Bruce — don’t come yet.”

“I-I won’t, Mom!” he gasped.

“I want you to do something. There’s one thing we haven’t done yet. But you’re going to have to be gentle.”

“I will, Mom!” he gasped again.

“Ohhhh, Nancy’s going to love this, Bruce. And it’s safe. You won’t get her pregnant when you fuck her this way.”

“Fuck her what… way?” he gasped again. He looked at her. What was she talking about? There was only one way to fuck. And he’d just fucked her into a hot wild orgasm that way.

Monica saw his puzzlement. She said nothing. She made room for herself. She rolled over under him onto her belly. She looked at him over her shoulder. She thrust her ass up and back and spread her legs wide.

“Bruce! Fuck Mom’s ass!” she cried.

“Ass!” he choked.

He gripped his cock. It trembled wildly.

“Don’t come!” she cried.

He yanked his hand away. He stared down at the tight, round balls of her asscheeks and ran his hands over them. He palmed them apart.

“Ohhhh, Mom! You don’t mean it!” he gasped.

“Put your big cock in my asshole and see if I don’t mean it, darling,” she moaned.

She weaved her ass back and forth, like a flag, urging him on. He got to his knees between her legs and approached her. He held his cock again.

“Is it wet?” she asked.

“Sort of,” he said.

“Stick it in my cunt again, then, and get it wet and slippery, honey. Don’t come! If you come in my cunt, you can’t fuck my ass!”

“Ohhh, God…” he groaned.

He pressed up behind her. He fed his stiff, iron-hard cock into her cunt hole again. It was twice as slippery and juicy in there as it had been before, and he wondered where it had all come from.

He pumped her cunt twice. He didn’t dare fuck her there any more. He let his prick soak. Then he pulled it out and saw the light gleam from the juicy shaft of his cock.

“Gently, darling — tenderly…” Monica moaned.

“I will, Mom!” he gasped.

He came up behind her again. He pushed at her asscheeks. Monica moaned and couldn’t keep her ass still. The head of his cock slipped over her asshole and sent it into spasms.

“Ohhh, God — try again, darling! I want your prick up my ass! All the way up your mother’s ass!”

“God — oh, God!” he moaned, shaking his head with sexual delirium. His prick was so loaded it was ready to rupture.

He aimed again. He tipped the wet, slippery head of his cock against her puckered asshole. He pushed, gently but firmly.

“Yes! Ohhh, that’s it! Press! Wait! Ohhh, let me loosen up! Here, let me play with my cunt a minute! Ohhh, that feels so gooood!”

The bed jiggled. Bruce gasped. He looked down and saw her fingers wriggle out from between her thighs. They slid back and forth, and he knew she was finger-fucking her cunt. The top of his head felt as if it were about to come off.

He pressed the head of his dick against her tight asshole. Amazingly, her anal ring began to loosen and soften. His cockhead was surrounded more and more by warm, clinging, tight ass flesh.

He pressed again. Monica moaned and felt fire blaze all through her body. Not pain. Good fire.

Her asshole opened wide. The big mushroom head of his cock slipped past her anal ring. The shaft slid and slid. It plowed into her shit chute. It reamed up her ass. It fucked into her very depths and thrilled her beyond belief.

“Ahhhhh!” she cried tightly. “Bruce!”

“Am I hurting you, Mom?” he cried.

“No! Fuck me! Fuck me all the way! Come in my ass, darling! Blast my ass full of cum! Ohhh, give me a big white enema! FUCK MOM’S ASS, DARLING!”

“YAAAAH!” he cried.

He pressed all the way up her ass. Her anal ring spasmed around the root of his prick. His balls drew up and quavered. He could feel the big bolts of jism rumbling threateningly.

He heard the door open and saw the light come on and stared at his Aunt Vicky.

“MOM!” he cried.

His cock exploded, sending torrents of scalding cum up his mother’s ass. There was no question of it this time. It was his mother’s ass. And he had fucked her silky, shaking, horny cunt. He had made her come wildly, harder than his father, her husband, ever had.

Pride swelled through him. His prick stretched another inch into his mother’s ass. He watched his aunt toss off the filmy robe she was wearing and stand there with her bald cunt gleaming in the light.

He watched her reach between her legs and masturbate her cunt to flaming heat before she got into the bed with them and offered her silky pussy to his mother’s open, gasping mouth.

“Ahhhhh, Vicky!” Monica cried. “Ohhh, he blasted my asshole full! He made my cunt shake and come the way it never has! Ahhhhh, give me your cunt — your wonderful cunt to suck! Ohhhh, I want to kiss your sweet pussy until you come and come, you wonderful sister!”

Vicky lifted her hips. She spread her legs wide. She pulled her naked cuntlips wide with the tips of her fingers and offered her swimming hole to her sister’s mouth.

She looked up at Bruce. She winked before she moaned with the thrust of Monica’s tongue into her steaming cunt.

“You learned, honey,” she said to him.

“Ahhhh, I’m going to come again!” he cried, sliding his prick back and forth in the clinging hole between his mother’s asscheeks.

Monica bubbled into the wet flesh of her sister’s cunt. “Ohhhh, teach Gil next, Vicky!” she cried. “Teach Gil too!”

Vicky cupped the back of her head. She lifted her cunt high from the bed.

“I will, darling — I will!”

“He’ll love learning from you. He always had the hots for you.”

“I know.”

“Vicky, don’t leave us! Stay with us! Fuck us!”

Vicky laughed softly and then moaned as Monica’s tongue slithered far up her wet cunt.

“Ohhhh, honey — you’re learning too! That was a good one, Monica — do it again! Ahhh, again!”

“Aunt Vicky? Teach Nancy? Make her want my prick?”

“You first, Bruce. That’s your job, not mine. I’ll tell you what she’ll like — your mom and I will. But you’re on your own now. It’s time for you to be a man.”

He groaned and shoved his cock all the way into his mother’s ass and came again, his mind already thinking of how it was going to be with Nancy next Friday night.

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