David Ingram - Hot bed family

"Oh, Peter, darling – you sweet boy, fuck hard. I'd like to get my face between your mother's legs, she's so sexy. God, would I ever suck her cunt."

"Oh, shit! Joan!" He felt his nuts tighten and the stuff start squirting.

"Pump it into me, baby! All of it!" she squealed when she felt the hot wetness in her cunt. "I'm coming, too!"

Afterwards, they lay quietly for some time.

"I'd better blast out of here, it's getting late," Peter said.

"Not yet, honey," she pleaded. "Crawl back up here and snuggle up to me. If we can get it up again, I'll let you fuck me between my tits, and then you can blow off in my mouth again."

Peter got back into bed. He sucked on her tits, drawing milk from both. Joan got very excited. It took a good sixty-nine session to get him up again, though.

It was fifteen minutes before Rick was due home when he was good and hard and pushing vigorously between her bunched up tits. When he came, he made no effort to get to her mouth, and he splashed his sticky load all over her face. She licked wildly at the slimy goo, then got Peter's knob in her mouth and nursed hungrily until he was dry.

Peter got dressed and out of the house as Rick pulled into the garage. He ducked behind his mother's car until Rick had gone into the house.

Joan was sitting on the couch in her robe, thumbing through a magazine when Rick walked in.

"How come you're still up?" Rick asked.

"Couldn't sleep. Why don't you fix a couple of drinks before turning in?"

"Okay. I can use one. Who's car is that parked in front of the house?"

"I don't know. Probably one of the neighbors."

Rick headed for the kitchen, grumbling. "Goddamn neighbors, ought to park in front of their own fucking house."

He returned with the drinks and sat down on the couch beside her. He ran his hand under her housecoat. "Jesus, you're naked under that robe, honey."

"I just took a bath," she said, throwing the magazine on the floor and putting the glass to her lips.

"How about a little tonight, honey? It's been a long dry spell."

"Some other time, Rick. I don't feel like it tonight."

Rick exploded. "Jesus Christ, Joan! It's been over two fucking months. How long do you think a guy can wait? I want to fuck you, and I want to fuck you now!"

"Rick! You're a brute. Having a baby isn't any picnic, you know. I'm not ready." She reached down and grabbed his cock through his pants. "I'll jack you off, honey, then you'll feel better."

"Bullshit! Sometimes I think you're perverted, Joan. Keep your hands off my prick, girls ain't supposed to do things like that." He got up and started pushing his pants down. "I'm your husband and I got my rights. I'm gonna put it where it belongs. I wanta fuck you, and I'm gonna."

Joan resigned herself and opened her robe. She lay back and opened her legs.

"All right, let's do it right here and get it over with," she said.

"Damn right I'm gonna do it right here."

He straddled her and put his cock to her pussy. She reached down and guided it to the spot; it went right in. It felt small and insufficient after Peter's big cock.

"Jesus, you're all wet and sticky. You ain't been playing with yourself, have you?"

"Of course not, you prick!" she snapped. "Just fuck me and get it over with."

It wasn't as bad as she had imagined; in fact, she rather enjoyed it. It had been so long that it was almost like fucking with a stranger, and she liked fucking with strangers. It was a thrill to fuck a man she didn't know. Still, she lay perfectly still and let him do it all. He shot his load very quickly.

"Now get off, I want to go to bed," she said.

"Damn, that was good, honey. I really needed that," he said, getting to his feet.

"Shit! You men are all alike. We're just a receptacle for your hard cock – you use us." She got up and walked away. "I'm going to bed."

Lousy broad, lousy fucking broad, Rick thought.

Helen dropped a fresh ice cube into the glass and took a hefty swallow. It was her third drink since supper and she was feeling no pain. Two weeks had passed since her afternoon at the motel with Tom Henderson and she was in need. She hadn't fucked with Dan, either, and the itch was growing. She took another swallow of the whiskey.

Peter came into the kitchen, a sweater over his arm. He looked so male, so manly, especially at this moment.

"Are you going out?" she asked.

"Yeah, got a date," he answered. He didn't mention that it was at Joan Wagner's house. He had banged her every day for the past two weeks.

He looked lustfully at his mother. Her skirt was shorter than she usually wore, and her blouse was long-sleeved and loose, hanging out of her skirt. It couldn't quite hide her bountiful tits, though. He knew she was a little drunk. He walked over and put one arm around her and kissed her on the mouth, his tongue teasing for an instant on her lips.

"You mustn't kiss your mother like that," she said softly.

"Why? I like to kiss my mother like that," he said.

He kissed her again, harder, this time letting his tongue glide into her mouth. She sucked it, pressing herself against her son. He could feel her big tits against his chest, all soft and loose. She wasn't wearing a bra. She never used to go without a bra.

Peter sensed that she was receptive from the first kiss: actually before that, from the moment he had entered the room. It was the first time since they had fucked. Until this moment she had rebuffed him, nagged him, made sure that he kept his distance. She was responding now, hungrily devouring him, and he felt the heat in his guts, the fire in his growing prick.

He held the kiss, sliding his hands down until he was cupping both generous cheeks, pulling her mound tight against his hard-on.

"Oh, Peter, Peter," she moaned, not wanting to respond, but unable to stop.

"What time is Dad getting home?" he asked.

"He said it would be around ten." She pressed her mouth to his again.

Peter had her skirt hiked up. He clutched at her bare ass, then let one hand slide down the deep cleft to the hairy nest between her thighs. Her slit was already wet.

"You're not wearing pants, either," he said.

Her answer was her tongue going deep in his mouth. She wore no underwear. She liked the feeling of freedom it gave her. She knew she couldn't resist her son now; she wanted his cock.

She groped at his fly and somehow got the zipper open. Her fingers slid into the opening and rolled around his hard cock, squeezed it, then pulled it out of his pants.

"Oh, Peter darling, I've wanted this so much. Ever since…"

"I've wanted you, too, Mother."

He was sliding his fingers back and forth the length of her crack. It was soppy now, slick and eager for his prick.

"Here," she gasped, spreading her legs and pushing his hand away. "I want it between my legs for a minute, feel it against my cunt, maybe put it in a little, just the head – for a minute or two." She pressed his cock between her thighs, pushing it up hard against her cunt, then worked it back and forth along the wet slit until the fat head was nudged between the lips. "Let me feel it there for a minute. God, I've wanted it so much; it feels so good. Move it just a little inside my pussy, honey, and then we'll go upstairs to bed and we'll fuck… Oh, Jesus, will we fuck."

Peter pushed with his hips while Helen held his cock in place. He was hot and breathing hard; she was livid with lust, almost to the point of spending. It felt so good there just inside the mouth of her cunt, rubbing at the thick lips, sliding against the horny clit. She bowed her legs at the knees in an effort to get just a little more.

And then they heard the front door open, heard a man's voice.

"Oh, my God, your father is home!" Helen cried. She pushed him away, brushed her skirt quickly down. "Go, go… get the hell out of here!"