Mark Carver: Family flesh feast

On her knees before the teenager, Donna Moore had one heart stopping moment of panic as she took his stiff cock out of his pants. If her husband or son or daughter walked in the house at this moment and saw her…

They wouldn't believe what they saw anyway.

For one thing, her appearance was stunningly different. Kneeling before the groaning boy, Donna's eyes blazed with fierce passion as her ripe tits panted in a low cut, see through black bra, with openings for her swollen red nipples. Her hot silken ass was almost naked, the sheer bikini panties hugging their juicy curves. The panties were crotchless, so that her dripping pink cunt peeped through obscenely.

Her ass weaved lewdly now as she thrust the boy's long rod into her eager lips. Donna began to suck him off with low urgent whimpers, one hand stroking his prick while the other gently squeezed his big balls. The cuckoo, clock on the wall suddenly hooted, and she almost fainted with nervous fright. Then she remembered she was in her kitchen blowing a handsome young stranger, young enough to be her own son.

And in a tremendously excited way, the sexy, moaning brunette wished he were her, son.

"Geez, Missus – unnnnnf! – Missus Moore – wow, wow! – you're too – Mmmmmf! – too hungry!" he gasped.

So hungry she was battering her throat with his boiling knob. But up until two hours ago, Donna Moore was a quiet, pretty housewife no different than millions of others, except perhaps for her lushly curved tits and ass and long, silken legs. She'd kept up her figure through twenty years of marriage, and the occasional furtive desire she felt to screw around on her husband was quickly pushed to the back of her mind. After all, she had a solid, ruggedly handsome husband, a lovely daughter and a son. Her sex life was hardly exciting, but adequate.

Then the package came.

Sheer, overpowering curiosity drove Donna to open the package. It wasn't hers and she had an eerie feeling of guilt when she tore at the gummed tape, but she couldn't resist the urge.

No more than she could resist the wild urge – and the deadly risk in this small town – of going down with feverish lust on an innocent boy. He was lunging his hips eagerly now, his pants almost down to his knees as he fucked Donna's frantic mouth.

And when the shy, soft spoken housewife of thirty-nine opened the large box she had no idea she was opening a Pandora's Box of lust. And not the slightest hint her life would be changed forever, plunged into such raw, violent sex her entire family would be sucked up into the wild vortex. Especially her luscious, innocent daughter.

The empty box still lay on the kitchen floor beside her. She could feel the boy's hot prick beginning to harden and swell in her furiously sucking lips and she whimpered for his come. Anxious as she was to gulp down his boiling jism, it was only an exciting preliminary for the madly aroused brunette. She didn't want him shooting off his sweet young come inside her pussy in three minutes flat. In her tingling mouth yes, in her soaked, throbbing cunt, no.

She was blowing him first to take the sharp edge off his feverish excitement. Then if he could stay with her even for only ten minutes, she would have a deliriously exciting memory, a hot delicious fuck she could re-live in her mind through the dull routine of her day.

Her fist jerked him off faster as his grunts became louder and she whipped her sultry mouth back and forth on his surging rod to a frenzied tempo, craving that first boiling gush in her mouth. God, he was hung! Not nearly as hung as her own son, but Dan was older and built like a husky bull. She reminded herself with alarm that mothers weren't supposed to think like that.

But mothers weren't supposed to suck and fuck strangers on their kitchen floors at eleven in the morning, either.

"Holy – Holy shit, missus Moore -gonna come! Whooo! Wheeeewww! Your mouth – ummmmmmmmm – gonna shoot now, aaaaaaaaah! Oooooof! Jeez i-it's – oooooo, Christ!"

He lunged his naked hips rapidly as Donna sucked and stroked his bursting prick with frantic moans, a blissful depraved joy exploding in her blood as his thick come began to gush. She swallowed it in greedy gulps, loving the sweet creamy stickiness burning her throat, so different from her husband's salty juice. Her son's would be like this, she thought lustfully, and she suddenly wanted Dan's come everywhere on her milk white flesh, on her huge sweating tits and deep inside her pulsing cunt, flooding her mouth and spurting deep into her tender asshole.

She'd never harbored lewd urges like this before. It began when the box came…

Drained of every molten drop, the boy slipped his limp cock out of her mouth and stepped back, dazed. Kee-rist, wait'll he told the guys about this!

All Freddie knew was he'd rung her doorbell a few minutes ago selling magazine subscriptions. When she opened the door, his throat felt suddenly dry and his prick throbbed wildly in his pants. Housewives didn't look like this, especially in the morning. They wore hair curlers and dirty robes and looked sullen and tired.

He'd been greeted by a tall, fantastically sexy brunette. Her dark eyes glowed beneath heavy eyeshadow and her careless robe revealed lush creamy tits spilling out over her sheer bra. Freddie stammered his pitch, she'd invited him in and ten minutes later – wow! wow! Not only that, she'd bought a subscription first. She was so hot, she practically raped him. It didn't make sense to Freddie's naive mind, not in this quiet neighborhood anyway. The guys wouldn't believe him.

He stared down at her as she continued to stroke and lick his deflated rod, her gorgeous tits panting furiously. Maybe she was a nympho like Bessie Garst at school. Bessie fucked anyone and everyone for a quarter, lifting her dress to wriggle her pussy in the bushes. She liked it so much she did it on credit too. But Bessie was a dog, with acne, and this ravishing knockout was a pin-up straight from a magazine. She must be a nympho. She was moaning softly and licking his cock like an ice cream cone, until it was getting hot and stiff again.

"Your first?" she whispered, eyes blazing up at him. "Did you ever have sex before, Freddie?"

"Yes, ma'm," he stammered, flushing. "But only once." With Bessie. Whose hot little cunt was no match for her tight, boiling mouth.

Donna was disappointed. She'd hoped he was a cherry, that she'd be the first so he'd never forget her. She stood up, wrapping her arms around him and obscenely grinding her moist pussy to his stiffening prick. God, if John came home right now and saw her in this stunning outfit, dry fucking a boy whose pants were down to his ankles! His hot meat was rubbing against her wet cunt lips, sparking delicious thrills.

"Come on with me," she whispered. He slipped out of his pants and started to unbutton his shirt, but she stopped him. "Leave it on," she told him. It was far more guilty and exciting this way, with him half dressed and herself still wearing a bra and panties. She felt like a cheap whore giving a quickie and she loved the feeling.

She led him into the living room. Dog style, she thought feverishly. No tender foreplay, no hugging and kissing, just raw obscene sex, hot furious fucking. Donna hunched over the arm of the sofa, placing her palms on the seat. She spread her legs behind her wide and began undulating her ass in lewd circles of invitation. Her pink slit sucked eagerly through the crotchless panties.

"Go ahead," she urged hoarsely. "Stick it in, Freddie! Fuck me, honey, just drive it in all the way. Hurry!"

Freddie was so aroused at the sight of her creamy ass weaving and her juicy cunt pulsating hungrily he was afraid he'd shoot off before he ever got it in. He stood between her legs and gripped her burning ass cheeks in his hands, spreading them. Holding his breath, the boy nudged his knob against her pussy lips and then slid it in.