David Ingram - Hot bed family

"Okay," she said again, and threw back the cover. Tom lay on his back, his limp prick flopped across a thigh. Helen let her hand stray onto his belly, down into his pubic hair, and then she gave his cock a quick squeeze. She got out of bed.

Dan frowned and left the room.

When Helen came down to the kitchen, her hair was still damp from the shower. Her robe was loosely tied, half her big tits in view. She sat down.

"That was some orgy we had last night," he said.

"I don't want to talk about it now," she snapped. "My fucking head is pounding. Worst fucking hangover I've had in years."

Dan wasn't used to her talking dirty, and it annoyed him now. "Maybe you need a shot. You know, hair of the dog," he said.

"I won't want a fucking drink for a long time."

She had drunk three cups of coffee and finished her eggs when Tom came into the kitchen. He was dressed.

"Good morning. How does everyone feel?" he said.

"I feel like hell," Helen said. One of her boobs was almost out of her robe.

Dan noticed she made no attempt to cover herself. "I feel fine," he said.

"Relax and have something to eat. I'll fix you a couple of eggs," Helen said.

Dan watched her at the stove, cooking the eggs, dropping a couple of slices of bread in the toaster. When she brought the food to Tom, her robe hung open, her hairy pussy dark and inviting in the open gap. He wasn't sure he liked the new Helen, maybe he'd been hasty last night. "I've got to get down to the office. Want me to drive you to your motel, Tom?"

"Let the man eat his breakfast, for Christ's sake. You can wait, or he can take a cab, or I can drive him in my car."

"I really should be going," Dan said hesitantly.

"So go," Helen said.

The men shook hands and Dan started to leave. He stopped at the door. "Bet you don't make Chicago tonight."

"I'm sure gonna try," Tom said.

Helen sat in the chair beside Tom while he finished his food. Peter came bursting into the kitchen through the back door dribbling a basketball.

"Don't bounce the ball in the house," Helen cried, pulling her robe closed, then clamping her hands over her ears.

"Okay Mom."

"Where have you been, anyway?"

"I spent the night at Bob's. We shot baskets all morning." He gave the ball a couple of bounces, grimaced, remembering. "Sorry, Mom, forgot. Hi, Tom. Where's Dad?"

"He just left. Had to go to the office," Helen said.

Peter was gone before Tom could answer.

"God, you're lovely in the morning, Helen," Tom said. "That black hair still damp from the shower, no make-up – Jesus."

Helen leaned forward, her eyes soft and dreamy, and they kissed long and hard.

"Oooh, Tom, you're such a good kisser. Do it again," Helen said softly.

They kissed again, Tom's tongue wet, probing, licking.

"I'd better call a cab and get out of here before we get carried away. Peter might not approve."

"I'll drive you."

"You don't have to."

"I said I'll drive you." She got to her feet and grabbed his hand. "Come on, Peter will never miss us."

On the drive to the motel, Tom sat close to her and felt her belly, her tits, and her pussy. When they stopped in front of his unit, they embraced.

"Come in for a minute," Tom said.

"God, Tom, I really shouldn't."

In the motel room, Tom took a bottle from his open suitcase. "Let's have a toast to the beautiful music we make together."

"Jesus, I couldn't. The thought makes me sick."

"Just one. It'll perk you up."

Helen took a swallow from the tumbler. She made a gesture towards the picture in a gold frame on the motel bureau. It was of a blonde woman, chubby faced, but quite beautiful.

"It's my mother," Tom said. He took a large manila envelope out of his suitcase. "Here's a better one," he said, handing her a photo.

It was the same woman standing with her hands on her hips. She was naked, her tits large, her cunt muff thick and darker than the hair on her head.

"Tom, not of your own mother!"

"Sure, why not? She's built a lot like you."

"Better," Helen said quickly. She remembered her escapade with her son and reddened.

"Would you like to see some more?" Tom asked.

"Yes," she said, and took a mouthful of whiskey.

He brought out several, each getting more lewd than the one before: spread shots, sitting, lying down, and finally one with her finger-fucking herself. Then he produced one with a big, heavyset man on top of her. They were kissing, her legs around his back, his cock buried deep. "I took the pictures myself."

"Is the man your father?"

"No. He's my uncle. Dad's older brother."

"Jesus Christ!" Helen gasped. "Show me some more." She was terribly excited now, her cunt twitching and full of fire.

The next one was a close-up of his mother sucking a cock, a big cock.

"Uncle Harry's really got a big prick," he said.

The next was with a much younger man, someone about Tom's age. She was on all fours and he was fucking her from the rear.

"That's my roomy my freshman year at college. He spent the Christmas vacation with us."

"Where was your father all this time?"

"He spends a lot of time on the road. Mother is a very hot woman and needs lots of fucking."

"Did you ever take Bill home with you?"

"No, I don't think Bill would approve."

"The dumb bastard," Helen said. "Maybe Linda's mother can change that." She smiled and let her robe slip off her shoulders. "Show me the rest of them."

The next dozen pictures were each with a different man, some young, some older. The next was of Tom himself, standing straight and tall, his mother on her knees before her naked son, his long cock sunk deep in her mouth.

"I didn't take that one," he said, grinning.

"I can see that. God, Tom, did it feel good?"

"Wow! My mother is one fine cocksucker, Helen."

Helen tore Tom's pants open. His cock was hard as a bat. She masturbated him slowly while he showed her the rest of the pictures. They were all of Tom and his mother, fucking, sucking each other.

Tom stood up and started to undress. "Let's fuck, Helen. I'm hotter than a ten-peckered billy goat."

Helen drained her glass, her head reeling. She was drunk again and good and hot, even if her pussy was sore.

"I'm a tittle sore from last night, honey, so take it easy at first," she said.

Tom came down on top of her and pressed in. She was wet and he had no trouble, his cock going to the hilt with one hard push.

Helen gasped; she was tender down there, and God, it hurt, not much, but some. When he hit bottom, it felt better. She felt the long prick probing, pushing, in and out, in and out.

"Now it's feeling better, good, yeah – oh, lots better!" she grunted. "Good, good! Jesus yes! Oh, Tom, fuck me! Yes, yes! Oh, God, honey, I love this; do it, do it!"

Helen closed her eyes, rolling her body under the hard young man, hunching up to meet his thrusts, her knees up high to get all of him inside. "Oh, Tom, Tom, that feels so good, so fucking good. Am I as good as your mother?"

"That's an unfair question," he said, grunting each time he shoved in. "But yes, you are. And you're the only other woman that I can say that about."

"I'm glad. Am I better than Linda?"

"Fuck yes. She's good, but she needs more experience. Well, not more experience; she had plenty of that, but more maturity. I prefer a mature woman. You're so soft, so womanly, so perfect."

"Oooh, Tommy, darling, I think I love you."

"Honey, I think from now on you're going to love any man or boy who will fuck you."

"Yes, yes, maybe you're right," she said, lifting her ass to meet the smash of his groin. She let her mind wander to the thought of other men – and boys – fucking her, and she started to come. Her come was hard, a crashing come, as fine as she had ever had. "Oh, oh, I'm making it, darling! God, I love this feeling!" she cried.