J Bradley: Mom going down

"Gil – Gil," she gasped.

He pulled at her asscheeks again and made her wet, split-open cunt squish up around his cock.

He plowed all the way to the back of her cunt tunnel and began fucking her furiously again, building himself back to the point where he'd been.

Her pussy twitched and spasmed around his prick. She gasped and moaned. Her nipples thrust stiffly from the ends of her tits and punched against his heavy chest.

She couldn't believe the immediate transformation in her body. Every nerve ending had come to screaming life. Every part of her attention was on the thrusting cock reaming into her split cunt and the sensations it was causing.

At the same time, she was totally aware of Bruce's presence on the other side of the door and the fact that he must know that his mother was flat on her back being fucked.

Gil had started panting and growling again. She tried to keep him quiet. She couldn't. She couldn't keep quiet herself. She had never felt so open, so wanton.

"Gil! Gil!" she gasped. "Ohhhh, stop! We've got to stop! He can hear us! Ohhhh, stop!" she panted.

"Ahhhhh!" he growled, pounding into her cunt with his pile-driver prick.

Monica squeezed her eyes shut. She heard a thin sound from far off. She didn't know what it was for a long moment. And then she knew it was herself.

Her hips swiveled and bucked. Her ass rolled in his hands. Her pussy tunnel flapped and sucked brazenly around his cock like the whoriest cunt there was.

Her body was aflame. He was bucking and throbbing inside her, and she was responding totally – all the while knowing that Bruce might be listening, wondering, imagining, visualizing, wanting.

"Eeeee!" she squealed, her voice high and thin.

"Oh, baby – baby!" Gil grabbed her tightly, overjoyed that she had decided to come with him after all.

"Gil! God! Eeeee-aaaaah!"

She clamped her arms tightly around his sturdy back and clung to him and let her body shudder and pulse with violent waves of throbbing orgasm.

Her pussy sucked and milked his cock, the tissues becoming a cavern of oiled silk, hot and frictionlessly slippery with the flood of juice pouring from her cunt walls.

It was more than he could bear. He lunged against her and planted his prick deep and let it explode with a mighty blast of hot white cum.

"Yaaaag!" he bellowed, squeezing the breath out of her lungs as he bucked and ground against her.

They both panted and gasped and squealed and growled, and she was aware of every sound, knowing they wept right through the door into Bruce's young ears. Even the bed was rattling and squeaking and making their wild climaxes obvious to an idiot, which Bruce certainly wasn't.

Gil rolled her and tossed her. She was under him one moment, on top of him the next, then under him again. His hips pounded into her spread thighs, and his cock hosed and spurted until her wet cunt wouldn't hold any more.

Jism and cunt juice squirted between her cuntlips and bathed their thighs. Puddles were blotted on the bed as they rolled back and forth through them.

"God! God, baby!" Gil gasped finally.

He grinned from ear to ear. He was totally happy, completely fucked out. She was glad for that. She was happy to give him a good sendoff. But she'd never felt so embarrassed in her life.

"Honey – let me go now," she said, trying to unravel herself from his bearish hug.

"What's your rush, baby? Mmmm, that feels good, just soaking in all that hot juice in your slick pussy. Hey, come on – what's your rush?"

"I've got to get Bruce off to school."

"Ah, he can get himself off." He grinned, making a crude pun of it, giving her tit a tweak at the same time.

"Please, Gil?" she said firmly.

He looked at her a moment, then released her. He slipped his prick from her wet cunt. Juice slid out with it. His cock was limp and tame now.

"Mothers," he said with a shake of his head. His voice was gruff, but he gave her an affectionate smile all the same.

Monica stood up. Cum slipped from deep inside her cunt and clung to her pussylips. She squatted slightly and cupped her palm under her crotch and caught the string of jism just as it fell. She went into the bathroom and washed it off her hand and mopped at her sodden twat.

She came back out and slipped her housecoat back on. Gil was lying on his back with his eyes closed and his dick flopped over onto his thigh. He looked ready to go back to sleep and forget going to the rig.

She left him. He was a big boy. Besides, there was no real hurry. She wrapped the garment around her hips and went out the door, half-ashamed to see her son, afraid that she wouldn't be able to look him straight in the eye after such noisy, obvious fucking.

"Hey, Mom – I was going to wear my checked jeans today. Are they in the washer or something?"

He came into the kitchen and looked at her. She looked back. He was wearing low-rise briefs and nothing else, and the pouch of them was very full.

Monica stared at her son. He had Gil's light hair, although it was bleached nearly yellow from the sun. He had her slim build, her delicate features, her sensitivity.

But it was very clear at that moment that he had his father's bull-sized cock.

She stared at the full pouch of his briefs. She tried to tear her eyes from it, but she couldn't. The big prick attached to Gil's stocky hips and full ass was a formidable-looking thing. The same cock on Bruce's slim hips and tight, girlish ass would appear absolutely devastating.

She was his mother. But she stood there in her thin housecoat with her cunt throbbing from the wild orgasm she'd just had and her nipples still spiking through the flimsy material, and she felt herself shiver.

She couldn't believe it! Thrilled sexually by the sight of her own son! And just after having her cunt split open by her husband's blasting cock!

She shivered and tore her eyes away finally, clenching the housecoat tightly around her waist, unaware that it made the flare of her hips more prominent and the jut of her round ass more saucy.

She felt Bruce's eyes on her body, and she looked back quickly. He was licking his lips. His eyes flicked upward to hers, then away.

He had been staring at her body! Was he imagining the way it had just been fucked by his father? Was his cock lifting and thickening inside his briefs right now, or was she just imagining it?

"…Bruce." She turned away again, flushing all-over, tingling from head to toe. "Yes, honey, I washed them last night," she said, her voice strange to her own ears. "I-I'll get them for you out of the dryer."

"I'll get them, Mom," he said.

She was hurrying to the laundry room. He followed her. She bent over to pull the jeans from the dryer. Her robe gaped open, and one of her tits fell firmly through the slit, spiked, red nipple and all.

She looked around quickly. He was staring at the firm cone. Her eyes were on a level with his crotch, and she couldn't possibly help seeing the sudden twitch of his cock, the formed line of it, the ridge at the end, running around his cockhead. The cotton briefs outlined everything, even the weight of his balls.

She tucked her tit back into the housecoat. She gave him a sickly smile. "Oops," she said.

He reached down for the pants. His prick swept along the side of her hip, and she could feel the ridge of the cockhead through the thin garments they wore.

He jumped back self-consciously, flushing all over, and there was no way he could hide the sudden throb of his prick, the filling of his briefs.

"Mom…" he gasped, turning his hips to the side to hide his filling cock.

"Here are your pants, Bruce," Monica said firmly, nearly gruffly. Her voice was scratchy and thick, and she didn't know which of them was more embarrassed at that moment.