J Bradley: Mom going down

"You know I do, Mom! But I just… Mom, I don't mean to stare at your tits, but I… oh, Mom!" he wailed.

He started to turn away again, obviously in torment. She couldn't bear to let him leave in that state. She grabbed him and hugged him again and kissed him fully on the mouth, hard, with far too much passion, having to break it off with a heated gasp.

"Bruce, we'll talk about it when you get home," she said quickly. "We'll work something out. We'll talk about it, darling. Go to school. Don't worry. Don't be upset. Aunt Vicky's coming this afternoon. Maybe she can… maybe she… we'll talk about it, honey."

She pushed at him. She wanted him out of the house now, before she hugged him again and pressed her tits against his manly chest and did crazy things that she would never be able to justify.

He turned and left. She stood there, her hands clasped together and pressing inward against her tingling cunt. She didn't know why she'd mentioned Vicky. She wished she hadn't. She didn't need her sister to help her raise her son.

But it had always been that way between her and Vicky. Vicky was the leader. The one confused little Monica went to for help. The one Monica always had obeyed, no matter how crazy the order. It had been that way all the time they'd spent growing up together, and the whole syndrome was returning to her again.

Gil came in and interrupted her thoughts. He carried his suitcase and was smoking a cigarette, sucking on it as it dangled from his lips.

"No more ass. Damn near the last butt. I don't know why the hell I stay with this Goddamn job," he said. He grinned at her, totally oblivious to the way she felt right then. "Guess I'll go out and wait for Duke to pick me up. If I stay in here, I'll just end up draggin' you back to the sack and fuckin' another load up that sweet wet pussy of yours."

She smiled quickly, having to force it. "I don't think my sore pussy could take your big prick again, honey," she said.

She reached up and took the cigarette from his mouth and kissed him lightly. It seemed cold and sterile to her, compared to the one she'd just given her son. It frightened her. What was happening to her! She kissed him again, lips parted and soft, tongue thrusting into his mouth.

"Hey, now," he breathed huskily after it was over. He put his arm around her waist and let the suitcase drop to the floor.

"Gil – Gil, there's not enough time. Gil, don't get started," she said, trying to back away from him.

"I'm started," he said. "Oh, baby, it's gettin' bigger by the second. God, honey – gimme a quick one. One last fuck."

"Oh, Gil…" she moaned, damning herself.

He pulled her toward the couch, unzipping his fly on the way. His big prick sprang out, stiff and throbbing again. She looked at it and moaned inside.

He sat on the couch, his legs spread. He pulled her to her knees on the floor. "Real quick," he gasped, holding his prick toward her face. "Gimme a quick blow with those soft lips, Monica."

"Come on – come on! Duke's comin' any minute. Baby, you gotta! You want me leaving here with a hard-on like this?"

She looked at his hard-on. She didn't give a damn what he did.

"Baby, listen – I'm sorry about Bruce. I thought over what I been doin' to him. It ain't right. I see that. Tell him I'm sorry, will ya? I'll quit riding him, I promise."

She looked at him. "Do you mean that, Gil?"

"Yeah."

"You're not just buttering me up?"

"Hey, come on. I don't crap around when I say something serious like that, and you know it."

That was true. She looked into his eyes. His prick throbbed right over her chin. He was telling her the truth. How she knew she wasn't sure, but she knew.

"I love you for that, Gil," she said softly.

She reached out and took his prick in her hand. She jacked it a moment. It pulsed and beat under her fingers. She licked her lips and parted them.

A tiny sound came from her mouth when she opened it. She stretched her jaws wide. She pursed her soft lips and fucked the warm, wet cavern of her mouth down over the head of his cock.

"Ahhh, God!" he groaned, tipping his head back and fucking his hips upward. He put his big hands gently at the back of her head and tangled his fingers in her hair.

Monica knelt on the floor between his legs and sucked his prick. She did it lovingly. It surprised her. She'd been ready to bite it off a moment ago.

She wished there were more stability in her feelings toward Gil, but it had been this way from the beginning – hating him one moment and loving him the next.

Her head bobbed under his hands. Her tongue wrapped around the sensitive underside of his cock and milked the strong, stiff shaft. Her lips squeezed and sucked, and she pulled them off and looked up at him, watching him gasp with the sudden removal of her mouth.

"Promise, Gil?" she asked. "Promise you won't ride him any more?"

"God, yes! Ohhhh, don't stop, baby! Don't stop! Christ, I'd promise you anything right now, and you know it!"

"That's what I'm afraid of," she said.

He grabbed for her. "Hey, I mean it! No shit, baby, no shit!"

That was his version of an absolute pledge. It was good enough for her. She opened her mouth and sucked it down over his straining, throbbing prick again.

Her head bobbed faster and faster. She gave him a good sucking, one that would last. She couldn't believe that his balls were full again. All night, and then this morning.

He gasped and moaned and fucked his hips up at her mouth. His big prick was a throat-filler. Her cheeks bulged. Her tongue worked over his shaft and the velvety, swollen head again and again.

Suddenly, it wasn't his prick any more. It was Bruce's. In her mind, it was the virginal, smooth cock of her son.

Her cunt burst into flames. She let out a muffled moan and thrust her hand between her legs and squeezed her cunt tightly. The tingling got worse, grew stronger.

Then she couldn't believe her own cunt, either. Her clit sprouted down from the top of her cleft and reached for her fingers. She swirled her hand over her cunt and moaned and sucked on his solid shaft until the big, swollen head was bumping at the back of her throat and threatening to gag her.

"Ah! Ah!" he gasped. "God, it's terrific! Baby, you're really doing it this time! God, honey! Do it!"

All the way! Just this once, baby, all the way.

Her emotions spun. She'd never sucked him all the way off before lust once, then never again. She didn't like the taste and feel of his cum in her mouth.

When she sucked him, she blew him to the point of orgasm and then pulled her mouth off and jacked the pulsing white jets of jism from his prick.

They had both come to accept that kind of finish. It was understood when she'd started just now that that was the way it would finish again.

But something was different this time. The thought that she was sucking her son's prick made it all different, and her head spun with dizzying sensations and thoughts and images.

She drew and sucked. Her fingers twirled over her clit. It was going to happen any moment. She could feel his prick throbbing threateningly. Already, he was pressing at her forehead to assist her in pulling away so that he could blast into her hand.

But she resisted his pressure. He gasped again and again, not knowing what to make of it. Then his hands slid around to the back of her head, just resting there as she bobbed up and down, not forcing her.

There was that curious mixture again. If he'd forced her, she would have fought with him. It was so strange how he could be crude one moment and gentle the next. A real stinker and yet lovable.

"Honey, honey, honey!" he gasped. "I'm gonna come! Baby, it's right there! Honey, take your mouth… ohhhhhh, don't take your mouth… God! Oh, God! Here it – yaaagh!"