David Ingram - Hot bed family

"That's why you're so good: you love it. You don't just like it, you love it. I'm pretty close; will you finish me in your mouth if I pull out?"

"Of course – anything!"

He pulled out and rolled off onto his back. Helen hovered over his standing prick for a moment and then closed her mouth down over the slimy pole. It tasted of sex, wet and slick and swimming in the white gooey slime from her pussy. She cleaned it quickly, taking it deep throat and then sliding up until she held only the thick head. She sucked at the head, squeezing the shaft until the piss-slit opened and spurted the thick stuff out in huge gobs. She savored the thick glue, sucking until she had a mouthful and then let the hot stuff slide down her throat. It left a burning sensation all the way down. It was wonderful sucking a man's cock, not degrading, but wonderful.

"You should do that to Peter, Helen. It will make a real man out of him," Tom said.

Helen nodded her head, her mouth still filled with the oozing head of Tom's prick. She had every intention of doing it to Peter… again.

"And have someone take some pictures. I'd like to see them," Tom added.

Again Helen nodded her head. Maybe she could get Dan to take them. She released his cock and rolled over, exhausted.

"Let's rest a while," she said.

"I really don't think I can get it up again, honey. Besides, I've got to get down the road to Chicago. My mother is waiting."

"You could go down on me. I want to come off one more time with you before you go."

"Okay," he said.

Tom started kissing her belly, his lips dancing at the edge of her pubic bush. Helen felt the excitement knot in her belly and her hands went to the back of his head.

"Yes, go down on me! Eat me! Make me come again!"

Dan hadn't gone to the office; he sat in his car across the street from the motel. He had watched them go into the motel. He was angry, yet his cock was hard as a board. Helen was doing what he had wanted her to do; she was fucking with other men. He wasn't sure he liked it. He took out his cock and started to jack off, wishing that Linda was back from her honeymoon.

Tom will never make Chicago tonight, he thought, as the come spurted from his cock onto the steering wheel. It was a good come, very satisfying. He decided he enjoyed jacking off while his wife fucked with another man. From now on, though, she would have to let him watch.

It took Helen several days to get well from her drinking orgy. She had spent the rest of the day at the motel and got so drunk that Peter had had to come and drive her home. The boy hadn't minded, though, because his mother had sprawled out in the car, her robe wide open, and passed out. He had sat looking at her and jacked off before lugging her into the house. Fortunately, his father had gone on to his office.

She hadn't slept with Dan, either. Partly because she felt so shitty, but mostly because he acted so shitty. He was back to his old funky self. She decided she needed a good fuck, not the kind her husband gave her, but a good fuck.

It was a week after the wedding when she noticed Joan Wagner's coat hanging in their front closet. "Oh, dear, she must have left that here the day of the wedding." She took the coat from the hanger and went into the front room where Peter was sprawled on the floor in front of the television. "Would you mind running this over to Joan's, honey?"

"Aw, hell, Mom, I'm watching TV," Peter whined.

"Don't talk ugly, Peter. I'd have your father do it, but he's bowling tonight. Be a good boy. You can take the car."

Peter got to his feet and jerked the coat out of her hands. He stamped angrily from the house.

Ten minutes later Peter slammed on the brakes in front of Joan's house. He grabbed the coat roughly in his fist, trying to wrinkle it, and stamped up the walk. Joan answered the door, her baby in her arms.

"Why, Peter, what a pleasant surprise. I haven't seen you since the big wedding," she said.

"You left your coat at our house. Mom made me bring it over."

"I'm sorry, honey. You should have called; Rick could have stopped and got it. Now, that you're here, come on in."

"Nah, I gotta get back home."

"No, don't go. Rick is working nights again and I'm lonesome. I'll make you a drink after I finish feeding the baby and we can talk."

Peter liked the idea of having a drink with sexy Joan, but the thought of waiting around while she fed her brat bored him. He gave in grudgingly, however, and walked into the house with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. She had him sit in a big overstuffed chair and she sat facing him on the couch.

"I do have to finish feeding the baby. You don't mind, do you, Peter?" she asked.

"Naw, go ahead," he answered sullenly.

Joan's housecoat was a deep red and had a big collar. It was made of a satiny, quilted material and revealed nothing of the voluptuous body inside. Peter sat up with surprise when she pulled the collar down and produced a fat, milk-filled tit. He had expected her to go to the kitchen and get a baby bottle. The baby eagerly took her protruding red nipple in his mouth.

She leaned back, cradling the baby to her tit and tugged her robe open, exposing most of her other swollen boob. She always had big knockers, but now they were especially fat, and round, and smooth. Peter's eyes bulged.

Next, she hunkered down in the chair and crossed her legs. They were bare, and the robe fell open on either side, closing at the spot where her legs met, or maybe just a fraction below. She swung a long, smooth leg in the air.

"Do you like my legs, Peter?" she asked coyly.

"Hell yes," he stammered, his face reddening slightly.

"Your father likes them, too."

"My-my dad? When does he look at your legs?"

"Whenever I let him," Joan said.

Peter, forgetting himself, rubbed at the growing thing inside his jeans.

Joan licked at her heavily lipsticked lips, making them shine, and watched him rub at the lump in his pants. The way he was looking at her while her baby sucked at her tit, excited her terribly. She felt unusually bold exposing herself to this young boy and moved her legs in such a way that she was sure a hint of her thick pubic bush was in view.

"What's the matter, Peter?" she said.

Peter jerked his hand from his crotch, aware of what he was doing. "Oh, nothin', Joan; just had an itch. Sorry," he muttered.

"That's okay, honey, go ahead and scratch." She kept her eyes on the spot where Peter had removed his hand. His pants were tight, and the bulge was quite apparent.

She glanced down at the baby in her arms. "Little Ricky is asleep," she said. "Let me put him in his crib and I'll make us a drink and be right back."

After she had gone, Peter leaned back in his chair and put his hand between his legs, rubbing the knob of his cock through the denim. He wanted to take it out and give it a good stroking, but he didn't dare.

Joan returned with a glass in each hand, the ice clinking as she walked. Her hips rolled under the thick robe and her breasts bounced with each step. Peter could see most of her tits because she hadn't pulled the robe closed at the top. She handed him a glass and went back to her place on the couch.

She crossed her legs again, letting the robe fall away as it had done before. It opened almost to the skimpy bikinis, the only thing she had on under the robe.

"Is your drink good, Peter?" she said, swinging her leg again.

"Yeah, it's great," he said, taking a quick drink. He was sure he caught a glimpse of pussy hair.

"You've been sitting over there trying to look under my robe ever since you sat down, Peter. Is the view that good?"

"I-I, well, geez," he sputtered, and took another drink.

"Shit, have a good look," she said, pulling the front of her robe all the way open.