J Bradley - Mom going down

"Don't do that, Monica – don't waste it!" Vicky cried.

"Yes! Ohhh, I'm going to come! Then you won't be able to make me fuck my son! Ohhhh, I'm going to come, Vicky!"

Vicky snatched the door open. "Bruce! Brucie!"

"Huh?" he answered, his voice muffled and distant.

"Come here a minute, Bruce!"

"Ohhh, I'm going to come! Vicky, damn you! Ahhhhh, I'm coming!"

"What's the matter, Aunt Vicky? What do you want?"

Vicky stood in the doorway, leaving it open just a crack. She looked back at the bed and watched her sister toss and heave with orgasm, her legs shaking, her tits jiggling on her chest.

Monica gave a final shudder of release, her cunt mouth spasming and drooling hot honey, and then she collapsed back on the bed with her hand over her pussy and let out a long groan.

"Never mind, Brucie," Vicky said quietly.

He tried to peer around her into the room. "What's the matter with Mom? Is she all right? She sounds awful."

Vicky smiled softly at him. "She is now, honey. Just a little cramping. You can help her next time, sweetie. I'm sure shell let you help her in a day or two."

Bruce was going to ask help her with what, but Vicky only smiled and closed the door. She turned her back to it and looked at her spread-legged sister and put her hand to her chin in thought.

"He's in trouble, Monica," Vicky said earnestly.

"He is not!"

"Honey, he's got a problem, and you know it. You saw him with Nancy last night after their date. They sat there listening to records, and the poor girl was dying for that big prick up her pussy, or a good finger job at least, and Bruce couldn't manage any more than holding her hand on the sly. Holding her hand! For God's sake, Monica!"

Monica flushed and looked away, remembering how the two of them had pretended to go out for a little while and then had peeked through the window at Bruce and Nancy.

Vicky was right, of course. Monica knew it. She'd known it before Vicky had even come. Gil knew it too, and that was why he rode Bruce all the time and called him a pansy.

She didn't know how he'd gotten that way. Was it her fault? Had she kept him sweet and innocent and effeminate to compensate for Gil's bull-like, he-man manner?

"Come on, honey – admit it. If not to me, then to yourself, at least. The kid's scared shitless of girls."

"Yes, yes, all right!" Monica cried. She looked up. "But I don't know what to do about it."

Vicky smiled, and that look oozed from her eyes in waves of heat. "I do," she said.

"Vicky."

"All right. You do it then."

Monica gasped and clamped her hand over her newly shaved, slick cunt. "Fuck my own son! Vicky, you're sick!"

Vicky considered that a moment, then shook her head. "You want to keep him a pansy. I want to make him a man. Who's sick?"

Monica looked away again. "I can't do it."

Vicky laughed. "You want to, honey. Oh, don't try to kid me. Hey, this is Vicky, your twin sister. You can't kid me. You're aching to feel that big fat prick all the way up your squeezing cunt, and you know it."

Monica looked at her sister quickly, her expression a little wild, her mouth open to shout vehement denial. But she closed her mouth and looked away. She couldn't lie.

Thought of Bruce's big prick, of the glimpses she had of its full girth and youthful stretch, made her cunt squirm and let her know how terribly horny she was getting.

It had been a week since Vicky had fucked the delivery boy the first time. It had been that long since Vicky had tried to help her come.

Since then, there'd been no more games. Vicky hadn't masturbated in bed beside her and drawn her into the sexual swirl. And Monica didn't have the nerve to ask Vicky to suck her cunt off or finger-fuck her or anything else.

She never had. All of it had been at Vicky's instigation, from the time they were children.

But now, Vicky was getting all the fucking she needed from the delivery boy. Monica had watched again. She'd fucked herself into a wild frenzy of orgasm again. But it wasn't enough any more.

She'd found herself staring furtively at her son, watching his crotch, seeing the bulge there and imagining the stiff eagerness of his young, hard prick.

She felt like a dirty old woman doing it. She watched the way Vicky paraded around the house in front of Bruce in thin panties and half-naked tits, and she envied her sister's freedom.

And she was jealous of the growing attention Bruce was paying his aunt. He found excuses to be with her. He helped her with little chores around the house, hoping to get another glimpse of her ass or tits.

Vicky was winning him away from her, and Monica felt herself becoming all twisted up inside.

Right now, she was ready to admit that Vicky was right, right, right. She was the sick one, not Vicky.

She felt sick inside, anyway.

"He's got to learn, Monica," Vicky persisted. "He's got to have a girl make his prick hard and fondle it and lick it and slip it up her wet cunt. He's got to get over his fright."

"Yes," Monica said, her voice distant and hollow. She shivered, the image of herself doing all that coming suddenly to her mind.

"You should do it, Monica, you're his mother. You should teach him. A parent should teach her children everything."

"I can't!" Monica wailed.

"Then I will."

"Yes, Monica," Vicky said firmly. "You can watch. You can pretend that I'm you, and then you won't feel so strange about it the next time."

"Oh, God…" Monica shivered.

Her cunt was squirming and oozing inside. Her honey flowed from the slippery, silky walls and drained to her bald cuntlips and soaked into the crotchband of her panties.

She moaned heatedly and thrust her hand between her thighs, jiggling her cunt furiously, overcome with heat and the need to blast herself into a tremendous orgasm.

Vicky pulled her arm away. "No," she said, her voice firm again. "You're not going to get away with that a second time."

"Ohhhh, I want to come! It's been a whole week!"

"That's good," Vicky smiled. "Just keep your cunt simmering that way. You'll come. Oh, will you come tonight!"

Monica looked at her sister with wide eyes. "What are you going to do? Oh, Vicky – what nasty, dirty game have you thought up to play now?"

Vicky laughed. "Dirty to you, honey. Fun to me. Now, here's what we'll do."

Monica still couldn't believe it was happening or that she'd agreed to do it. She sat on the hamper in the dark bathroom and looked through the cracked-open door into the bedroom.

She heard them talking on the way down the hall. And then they came into the bedroom, Vicky and Bruce. Bruce watched her go to the closet. He seemed a little uneasy.

"Where'd you say Mom was, Aunt Vicky?"

"Seeing a friend, honey. What's her name? Helen something?"

"Oh, yeah, I know her."

"It seems her husband is out of town, and she had somebody try to break into the house this afternoon. Your mother's going to stay there all night to keep her company."

"Boy, it's getting to be a problem any more, Aunt Vicky," he said seriously.

"Well, I'm glad I have a big strong man like you here to look after me."

"Yeah, I'll sure do that," he smiled.

"Speaking of looking after me, honey, I wanted you to tell me if this dress I altered today looks all right. Will you?"

He swallowed. "Sure, Aunt Vicky."

Monica watched her sister reach into the closet and select a dress at random. It hadn't been altered. Vicky had never threaded a needle in her life.

She took it out. It was a low-cut mini, a siren-red, slinky garment. She put it on the bed. She unzipped the dress she was wearing. Bruce watched her and swallowed again.

She pulled the top off her shoulders and uncovered her braless tits for just a flash before holding her hands to them again.