Marvin Cox - Balling mother

Gina Miller's cunt was throbbing. "Oh… Ron," she whispered softly as she spread her long, shapely legs. "Why couldn't you come home?"

As a trucker's wife, she knew there would be nights like this – nights of longing, hunger. Lately, however, Ron seemed to be on the road all the time.

It had been four days since that big, hard cock had stabbed inside her pussy and filled her with his warm cum.

Gina gave another moan and slipped her fingers across the creamy texture of her thigh to the peach-colored mass of hair that haloed her oozing, burning cunt. Slowly she played at the tight opening, exploding the sensitive membranes. When her middle finger came in contact with her pulsating clit, she flinched. Carefully she pulled back the loose folds of skin to fully reveal the tiny nub and ran her fingertip over the satiny surface. Immediately spasms of raw anguish swept around her cunt and melted toward the base of her spine.

"Oh… God," she grunted, half-sitting.

She increased the pressure of her finger, then slipped it deeply inside. As her throbbing muscles sucked around her finger, she squeezed her knees together. The pleasure was intensified, yet more agonizing. Her finger could never compare to that big slab of cock Ron had. Ten inches of rock-hard meat, almost as big around as her wrist.

She closed her eyes and could see that glorious prick, the purplish veins, the rubbery foreskin that half-covered the gigantic cock head, and the blue-black hairs that swept around his nuts like a dark flame.

"Fuck me," she gasped, withdrawing her finger. She scraped her nail over her clit, then jabbed back inside. "Oh yes," she panted, licking her lower lip with the tip of her pink tongue, "stick it all the way in and… and screw me full of hot, milky cum."

Her body convulsed suddenly, causing her head to jerk to one side. As her orgasm peaked, she rolled to her side, then lay on her hand. She began humping wildly up and down, flexing and unflexing her cunt muscles, drawing her finger in and out of her bubbly hole. And even when the ecstasy swelled her insides, she knew she would be left empty, probably worse off than before. This was the horrible part. She would lie in bed, drained, craving cock until she finally collapsed in a fitful sleep.

A few moments later, she rolled back over and looked up at the ceiling, a pained expression on her face. She tried to empty her mind of all thoughts, but it was useless. Every shape in the room seemed to remind her of her husband's fantastic prick. She shot a glance at the dresser, her eyes searching out something – anything that would relieve the desperate itch she was feeling. Quickly she lunged off the bed and grabbed her hairbrush.

"Ohhhhhh," she groaned, stabbing the end of the handle between her thighs. She fell back on the bed and spread her legs, then lifted them until her knees touched her full, up turned breasts. "Yes, God, yes," she whispered, thrusting the entire length of the handle inside her pussy.

When the wiry texture of the brush meshed with her cunt hairs, she twisted the handle around, sliding the hard plastic over her pulsating pussy walls. And although it was better than her finger, it still wasn't enough. Her body was in flames now, ready to explode.

"Poke it to me, you big bull," she grunted, a picture of Ron forming in her mind. She could see his handsome face, the dark-brown eyes, the wide, meaty shoulders. She could almost feel the rough hairs that adorned his muscular, sculptured chest. "Fuck me hard," she murmured, her passion building wildly. "Cum all inside me. Make it good, Ron."

She began thrusting the handle of the hairbrush in and out so quickly, her hand became a fleshy blur. At last her pleasures burst around her opening, then shot inside. She gave a throaty scream and relaxed. Seconds later she shook her head and fought back the tears. It isn't fair, she thought. It simply isn't fair to want something so much. She couldn't concentrate on her housework, the needs of the children – anything. Not when her pussy was aching like this.

She was about to remove the hairbrush and try to get some sleep when the door sprang open. For a long moment she couldn't even react. Her oldest son, Mike, stood there, his mouth hanging opens his eyes glued to the area between her thighs.

"Mother!" the boy finally, said, flushing beet-red. "I… I thought you… that is, I heard you scream and… and…"

His melodic baritone spluttered to a halt, and he took a step backward, hitting the doorjamb. He swallowed hard, and tore his eyes away from his mother's cunt, and looked at her shocked expression. Again he tried to speak, but only a rattle escaped his lips.

"Mike," Gina finally gasped, "I thought you were out with Betty."

"She… she stood me up," her son replied, feeling ridiculous. Here he was carrying on a conversation with his mother while she lay there naked, and a hairbrush up her cunt! "I… I'm sorry," he added. "I guess I should have knocked."

The thoughts that raced through Gina's mind were more shocking than what had happened. She suddenly saw her son in a new light. He wasn't the baby she had diapered eighteen years ago, not the little boy who came to her with scraped knees. He was a man, a powerfully built, handsome man. No small wonder the girls were all over him. That Betty must be some kind of idiot, she thought. She stood that up?

He was over six feet tall, taller even than his father, and the shock of raven-black hair that curled around his angular face set off the flashing, chocolate-brown eyes to full advantage. Years of football had made his body taut and muscular. Her eyes dropped to the thick bulge in his jeans, and she wondered if he had taken after his father in that department.

"I was missing your father," she finally stammered. "I guess you think I'm pretty terrible," she added, squeezing her legs together and hiding the hairbrush behind her hands.

"No, I don't," Mike said simply. He knew exactly what it was like to want sex and not get it.

In fact he had such a case of blue balls that just looking at his mother was almost enough to make him blow his wad. "I… I know exactly how you feel," he added, licking his lips.

Gina knew that she shouldn't entertain the thoughts that burned in her mind, but she couldn't help it. She could see her son's naked body over some young girl, almost feel the deliciously hard cock stab in and out of slick pussy. She wondered what it would be like, to have that prick inside her, to feel the gush of molten cum sear into her cunt.

"No," she whispered, trying to drive the thoughts from her tortured mind. "Oh God, no!"

"I guess I'd better leave," Mike said, although from the tone of his voice, it was obvious he didn't want to. His mother was still one of the best looking women he'd ever seen, even after four kids. She had long, golden-red hair, eyes green as emeralds, and the body of a twenty-year-old. And those tits! Full and ripe! They were tipped with coral-pink nipples that made his mouth water. "I… I'm sorry," he said again, slipping backward through the door.

"Don't go," Gina said, wondering, herself, why she'd said it.

"Huh?" Mike said, freezing in his tracks.

"I'm lonely," Gina said. "Stay with me a while."

"Then you'd better get some clothes on," Mike said. "I wouldn't trust myself around you like that."

Gina's heart skipped a beat. What was she about to suggest? She clamped her lips tightly to cut off further words, but they came out flyway. When she head them, she was as shocked as her son, almost as if someone else had said them.

"I want a cock so bad I can taste it," she said, her eyes widening with horror.

"Taste it?" Mike repeated, his eyes drilling into hers.