J Bradley - Mom going down

"What else is there, honey?" Vicky laughed. "You just wait until you have to go without it and see how wide-ranging your thoughts become."

"You've never gone without a cock up your pussy for more than a week in your life, and you know it."

Vicky finished her drink. She sighed. She put the glass carefully on the little table beside the chair, and she looked at a spot somewhere near the floor and spoke softly.

"You're not going to believe this, Monica. But, since Stan… I don't know. Something's different. I can't put my finger on it yet, but something's different."

Monica looked at her sister and didn't know what to say. She was telling the truth. Yet, it was nearly too much to believe.

"You mean – you've gone for six weeks without…" Vicky grinned wryly and looked up. "No. Not for six weeks. Hell, I'm not that kind of masochist. But it's different. I don't feel right with just a prick fucking up into my cunt. Oh, I get hot and I come and squeal and carry on the way I always did. But afterwards, it just… I keep remembering Stan…"

She put her hand to her face. Monica really didn't know what to do or say now. This was totally unlike Vicky. She tried to imagine what it would be like if Gil were killed out on the job the way Stan had been, and a shiver of loneliness swept over her.

She got up and went to her sister. She cradled Vicky's head against her lap and smoothed her hand over the brown hair, seeing the sun-bleached highlights in it.

Vicky tossed her head up and smiled wryly. "Mother Monica," she said. "You haven't changed either, honey. I'm glad. I'd thought maybe things would be different between us after six years. I was frightened by the thought. I'm glad they aren't."

"Me too, Vicky," Monica said.

She looked down at her sister's face. God, it was like looking into a mirror! Only it was a hot mirror. An oozing, sultry, come-fuck-me mirror.

"Vicky…" Monica whispered.

Vicky licked her lips. She opened her mouth. She started to say it, and then Bruce came into the house from school, letting the screen door bang shut, startling the sisters. He appeared around the corner and stopped dead still, looking at them.

"Aunt Vicky!" he cried happily, his face lighting up.

Monica didn't look at him. For some reason, she watched her sister's face as Vicky turned her head to greet her nephew.

"Brucie! My God – look at you! A man! Monica, you devil, you didn't tell me! You didn't really prepare me!"

Vicky sprang from the chair and ran into Bruce's arms. Monica watched them with a funny feeling. It was like watching herself hug her son, only with the difference that Vicky could put into the act.

Her firm tits mashed against Bruce's chest. Her lips parted as she tipped her face up and drew Bruce's head down. The kiss was long and hot and far too passionate. It made Monica squirm. It reminded her of the kiss she'd given Bruce just this morning.

"Mmmmm, what a man!" Vicky cried, tearing her mouth away from his finally. She continued hugging up against him, rolling her tits over his chest, cupping his thighs with hers, probably trying to get a feel of the size of his prick the way she was so skilled at doing.

"Gosh, I can't believe it, Mom!" Bruce choked, trying to act normally in spite of the wealth of womanly flesh pressing and rolling sensually against his virginal body. "You look exactly alike!"

"How am I going to tell you apart?"

Vicky gave Monica a funny look, a teasing look. "Why would you need to tell us apart, darling?" site said.

"Vicky…" Monica began.

"Your mother and I used to fool people all the time, hasn't she ever told you? We used to make a game of it, and it was a riot."

"Vicky…"

"All I'd have to do is lose a little more of my tan and cut my hair shorter, and – and you wouldn't know your mother from your Aunt Vicky! What would you think of that, Bruce?" she smiled broadly, turning back to him, making her tit press obviously into his arm.

"I-I…" Bruce stammered, licking his lips. He looked from his aunt to his mother. Monica couldn't help looking at his crotch.

The checked jeans were pulled tightly over his prick and balls. She nearly stared. God – oh, God! Was he getting a hard-on?

Her mouth fell open. She looked from her son to her twin sister and felt tingles shoot all through her body and make her cunt twitch.

It was already happening. It was already getting out of control, just the way she'd been afraid it would. Only it wasn't Gil she was going to have to worry about.

It was her son.

Vicky opened the bathroom door, and steam from the shower billowed into the bedroom behind her. She had a fluffy yellow towel wrapped around her succulent body. Her skin was scrubbed and healthy-looking, and Monica was pleased with how beautiful she looked. It meant that she looked just as beautiful herself.

"Mmmmm, that felt delicious," Vicky said, rubbing her body with the towel.

She cupped her tits with it, drying the undersides of the firm cones. Her nipples were distended and full. She patted the towel around her waist and the sides of her hips and wiped the glistening droplets from her full, tight asscheeks.

Monica lay in the big bed and watched her sister. She squeezed her thighs together under the sheet and tried to still the tingling in her cunt.

Memory flooded through her. She felt oddly in the past right now, watching Vicky getting ready to come to bed with her. And then her time sense would jump to the present again, and she would realize they weren't children any more, sleeping in the double bed upstairs in the old house.

This was Gil's bed. Hers and Gil's, not hers and Vicky's. She wondered if Gil got as much pleasure from watching her dry herself after a shower.

"You still sleep in a nightie, huh?" Vicky smiled.

"And you still sleep naked?"

"It's the only way, honey."

She flipped the towel to the side and stood before Monica in all her scrubbed, preserved beauty. Monica stared at her sister's pussy. She couldn't help it. The brown triangle of pubic hair was missing, and there were only puffy, soft, sweet-looking cuntlips.

"Like it?" Vicky smiled, parting her thighs, canting her pelvis forward, putting her hands saucily on her hips.

"Vicky, I…" Monica stammered. She squeezed her thighs together tightly under the sheet, but the tingling in her cunt only became worse.

"You should shave your cunt too, honey. You'd be amazed what it does to men. They want to eat it and eat it and lick their tongues all over the hairless lips."

"They-they do?" Monica gasped.

Vicky laughed throatily. "Honey, any time you get tired of getting Gil's big cock fucked up your hole, just shave. You'll see what I mean."

Vicky moved one hand from her hip. She smoothed it over her flat tummy and stroked slowly down her abdomen, fingers extended, toward the top of her puffy cunt mound.

"Look, Monica," she said huskily. "Watch. Tell me if it doesn't make you want to lick and suck my pussy yourself."

Monica stared. She couldn't help it. The sight was terribly erotic. The tips of Vicky's fingers traced over the swollen cuntlips, indenting the puffy flesh.

They separated the bloated flaps slightly, and there was a moist suck as pink tissues appeared inside the satiny cleft. Vicky squatted slightly, parting her thighs more, making her pussylips spread wider and her silken hole come into view between the bald petals.

The tip of her finger traced up the oiled, glistening gap and reached her clit. With no hair to hide it, Monica could see the tented fold and the straining little nub peeping from under it as her sister's finger gave it a twirl. She gasped and let out a soft moan and half closed her eyes.

"Vicky…" Monica breathed.

The memories were stronger now. It was just as if they'd never been separated, never gotten married and gone apart to lead their own lives.