Heather Brown - Kidnapped housewife

"Your prick is beautiful," I congratulated my slumbering man-child. Then, I couldn't resist stroking it.

It was like touching silk. The skin of his cock was as soft as his bottom had been when he was a baby.

Overpowered by maternal instincts, I leaned forward and kissed it. Once I'd tasted it, I couldn't stop sucking.

Suddenly my sleeping son's prick was beginning to swell inside my mouth. Every inch he stiffened made my pussy wetter.

There was no longer any doubt that one of the reasons I'd come back was to get it on with my son. The minute I had his dick in my mouth I knew it. After all I had been through, I now desperately needed the love of my children.

And I would go to any lengths to get it.

Sucking Bobby's cock more and more seemed the most natural thing for a loving mother to do to her son. I guess the fact that it kept getting harder accounted for a lot of that.

Even at eleven the kid was made to fuck. He'd been built with a prick that penetrated like a knife through butter. By the time his hard-on was complete the throbbing head was engorging my windpipe.

Playing with his hairless balls, I began suctioning my oral cavity around his cock to make him come. My anticipation was that that would wake him up, and then we could get down to the business of fucking. God, how I wanted my son's smooth cock in my hairy pussy.

Using my trump, I slid my hand under his nuts and plugged his asshole with my forefinger. Inside his tight shit-pit, I found the lump of his prostate and gave it a shove. When his prick grew another inch down my throat, I knew he was ready to come.

"Oooooooooh, Jimmy Crickets!" he boyishly moaned one of his favorite sayings in his sleep.

His sweet jizz swept down my throat in a torrent. It was intoxicating, making me drunk with passion. If I'd had any doubts about having sex with my son up until now, the divine reality of Bobby's cum had dashed them.

Finally he started to groggily awaken. Nobody could have stayed asleep with the center of their body exploding as his was. After several seconds, the spunk was still shooting from his cock.

"Wha-what's happening?" he mumbled, rubbing his eyes even as his prick still oozed in my mouth.

I looked up from his lap at him. His first sight of the mom he had probably assumed was dead was her ghost sucking his cock.

"I'm seein' things!" he blurted. Now he was wide awake.

"No, I'm real," I assured him, pulling away from his prick so the cum ran down my face, "if you don't believe me, ask your cock. It wasn't a phantom that fucked you with its mouth and then swallowed every drop of your sperm. It was your mother."

"I don't b-believe this is happening," he muttered uncertainly.

"Then don't," I said. "Just pretend you're still dreaming if it'll make it easier for you to do it."

"Do what?"

"Fuck me," I laid my desires on the line to my flesh and blood. "I want you to fuck your mother with your beautiful young cock. And I won't take no for an answer."

I was, of course, still nude from my frantic escape. Before Bobby could be overcome by bewilderment, I got on the bed and spread my legs in his face. "That's my cunt," I pointed to the drooling cleft at the gaping crux of my thighs. "That's where I want you to shove your prick."

I knew my lewd pose and gutter language were getting to him, despite the boyish astonishment that still distorted his freckled face. For one thing, his dick had never gone down since I'd mouth-fucked it. For another, he was sweating like a pig. A million dirty thoughts were going through his head.

"Now!" I put on the pressure. "Fuck Mama with your man-sized cock. Get between my legs and fuck my hairy cunt."

He couldn't stand it any more. Even though he was crying, Bobby was led inexorably by his burgeoning male instincts to my succulent honey-pot.

"Stick it in, son," I firmly directed him. In a second he had automatically penetrated and we were fucking. With his youthful hard-on slipping up my fuck-hole, I decided there was something worth coming home to, after all.

"Mommy, your cunt is so tight," he gasped as he slid inside all the way to his balls. "I always thought it was loose."

"Then you've thought about fucking me?" I maternally inferred.

"Only in my dreams," he confessed. "For the past year or so – since the hair started to grow around my thing – I've had these nasty dreams."

"And I'm in them?" I queried excitedly.

"Yes," he declared. "I'm fucking you in most of them. But your cunt is loose. No matter how hard I try, my prick isn't big enough to feel anything."

"What happens?" I asked with fascination about this side of my little boy.

The side that lusted after his mother wanted to fuck her. But felt so guilty about his desires that he was psychologically blocked from creaming in her pussy.

"You get me off in your mouth," he told me. "You take my hard dick in your mouth and fuck it like you were doing with your cunt. Only you're really sucking, so it's tighter."

"Does it work?"

"Yes," he admitted. "But when I wake up I'm always jerking off. I never thought I'd wake up and actually find you sucking my cock."

"It's a pleasure to make your dreams come true," I gently teased. "That's what mothers are for."

"I wish your cunt had been this tight when I was having those dreams," he swelled my heart with pride.

Between our legs, he was showing his appreciation by pumping faster and faster in my spasming twat. His balls were slapping against my labia in the accelerating fucking action.

"Is Mommy's pussy as tight as your sister's?" I led him into a new area of eroticism. I was breathless waiting for his answer.

"I don't know," he replied, while squirming on top of me. "I spied on her undressing one day, but all I saw was some curly brown hair between her skinny legs."

For some reason my heart sang, knowing my little girl had pussy hair.

"Then you've never fucked her," I concluded.

He quickly shook his head on my chest, letting go of the nipple he had been sucking like a hungry baby. The heat of his cheeks against my sensitive tit-flesh told me that he was blushing with embarrassment.

"Would you like to, Bobby?" I helped him through the crisis. "Would you like to fuck your sister – with Mommy helping?"

"Could I?" he gasped in wonder.

"After you finish creaming in my pussy, young man, and not before," I affectionately mocked sternness. "I don't want to turn you loose on your sister's delicate little snatch without being sure first you know how to work the standard model."

With the incentive of following up with his sister's twelve-year-old pussy for dessert, Bobby tore into me with his cock like a two-hundred pound truck driver rather than a mere boy. His hard-on constantly surprised me with how deeply it could bury its knotty head in the pit of my fuck-hole.

"Is this your first time?" I gasped, just as the end of his cock seemed to enter my womb – the womb in which I'd carried him for nine months.

"Yes," he admitted after a pause, then blurted: "Do I fuck good!"

"Like a stallion," I reassured him, smoothing his brow while, below, he machine-gunned me with his young cock. "I'm so glad I came back home to get your cherry."

"So am I, Mom," he broke down and blubbered. "I missed you something awful while you were gone. I guess I realized I love you lots."

"Then come in my cunt, you little darling," I kissed his cheek. "Show Mommy you love her by filling her pussy with your hot boy-cream."

"I love you, Mommy!" he reiterated in a wheezing verbal surge. Then his prick jerked in the tunnel of my twat and its head seemed to fly into a million pieces.

It was wonderful. I couldn't believe it. My own son was discharging millions of sperm cells into the same canal that had brought him into the world. It was an event that could not help but cause me to question all of my previous assumptions about life.