J Bradley - Mom going down

"Mmmm, Monica," Vicky sighed, rolling her finger around the tip of her clit again and again.

The circle widened. Her pussy hole began to leak slippery, warm, glistening juice. Monica stared breathlessly and watched the puffy cuntlips bloat and separate even more.

"Vicky, don't do that," she whispered.

"I want to, honey. It feels good. Do it to yourself and see if it doesn't feel good."

"Vicky, stop. We're not kids any more."

"Oh, you remember," Vicky sighed, tipping her head back slightly, her eyes hooding even more. There was a soft smile on her lips, an expression of growing bliss. "I was hoping you hadn't forgotten, honey. That would be an insult to forget. They were good times we had, weren't they?"

Monica gasped. She tore her eyes from the sight of her sister's masturbating finger, her bald pussy, the red, swollen, wet, slippery tissues of her cunt mouth.

She remembered. She would never forget the way Vicky had been, starting at thirteen, when she had first discovered the tingles and joys of sex.

As in everything between them, Vicky had been the boss, the leader, the one who said what happened. And Monica had been the hesitant one, the frightened one, trying to stop her sister from wild acts.

It had been like a drug back then – the sights, the soft moans, the excited tingles that demanded even more. She'd watched Vicky masturbate to orgasm night after night, until her own body was screaming for the chance to experience the convulsions and the bloated flesh and the slippery, musky oils seeping from her virginal cunt hole.

"Remember the first time, Monica?" Vicky moaned softly, her finger swirling and circling over her stiff, throbbing clit.

She moaned and shivered and cupped her crotch firmly, shaking it. She tossed the covers back on her side of the bed and spun onto her back next to Monica.

Her legs parted widely, one of them lifting and coming over Monica's. Even through the sheet, the touch of it was burning hot.

Monica gasped and stared again. She could see the sharp tilt of her sister's firm tits, thrusting up from her chest. She could see the heave and pulse of her flat stomach, the soft rounding of her hairless cunt mound down into the cupping palm of her hand.

"Ohhhh, God, do you remember, Monica?" she moaned again.

Her hips lifted and circled. Her pelvis canted up, and she fitted her wet, silky cunt more tightly into her hand. Then she began shaking her hand up and down over her pussy in earnest, and there was no doubt in Monica's mind that her sister was going to masturbate all the way, right there beside her.

"I remember, Vicky," she whispered heatedly.

She wished her body wouldn't tingle so. It shouldn't tingle. She shouldn't be getting hot. She'd come and come, last night with Gil and this morning with thoughts of Bruce. Now she was getting hot over the sight of her sister's heaving, sucking cunt.

"You didn't have the nerve to fuck it yourself, remember? You were afraid. You thought it was dirty. I had to do it for you. Remember, Monica? Remember how it felt when you came for me for the first time?"

"Y-Yes, Vicky," she gulped.

It was happening. She was going right back to that psychological state. She was growing weaker and weaker. She knew she should assert herself and tell Vicky to stop or get out and sleep in the empty bedroom.

She opened her mouth to do it. Nothing came out. Her pulse raced, and her heart pounded violently. She crossed her thighs high up and squeezed them together until her cuntlips were flattened against each other and juice spurted from between them and smeared over her satiny flesh.

"Ohhhh, Vicky – stop! Stop!" she gasped.

The sound was weak and unconvincing. Vicky didn't stop. She groaned heatedly and fucked two fingers up her cunt hole and rolled her clit with her thumb.

The sounds coming from her cunt mouth were unbelievable. It sounded as if she were sloshing her laundry around in her wet cunt.

Her arms squeezed in at the sides of her tits and made the mounds thrust upward and jiggle. The nipples stretched far from the tips of the white cones and throbbed like ruby beacons, begging to be sucked.

Monica stared at them and shivered all over with a flood of memory. She had sucked those nipples before. She had drawn on them avidly, flipping the rubbery nubs with the tip of her tongue, feeling the pulse of them between her soft, hot ups.

She, parted her lips now. She licked them with her tongue. Hot breath came from her mouth. She moaned as she stared at Vicky's hot nipples, and she remembered clearly.

"Oh-h-h, don't…" she moaned pleadingly, one more time.

"Oh, Monica – I'm so hot! Don't make me stop! You don't know what it's like to lose your husband. I need… God, I need it so bad! Help me, Monica! Finger my pussy! Fuck me! Suck my pussy! Ohhhh, make me come! You used to! We used to do it together, don't you remember?"

"Yes! Yes! God, I remember! But it's over, Vicky! We're not kids any more! And it isn't right! It was never right! We're two women!"

"You mean you've never done it with any girl but me?"

"No! God, no!"

Vicky turned her head. She thrust her fingers deeply into her pussy and left them there, making small circles with her hips to maintain the sliding friction in her cunt.

"What if I were your brother instead of your sister, Monica? Would it be right then?"

Monica gasped. "Oh, God…"

"Or your son!"

"Vicky!"

Monica gasped until she thought she wouldn't ever get enough air in her lungs. Everything was going in circles in her mind. Even the room seemed to be spinning.

"Imagine I'm Bruce lying here next to you. Think of my big, fat, hard prick, smooth and white and virginal. Think of the way it would be throbbing and aching to fuck all the way up your wet little cunt right now! Think of it, Monica!"

"Vicky, stop! God – stop!" Monica wailed.

"You, have thought of it," Vicky chuckled huskily. "Ohhhh, Monica, you should see your face right now, darling! Ohhhh, God – if I had that big cock jutting out of my pussy hole right now, you'd get it all, clear to the back of your sweet, shaking cunt!"

"Ohhhh, Jesus – stop talking like that!"

"Let me see it," Vicky said breathily. She reached out and flipped the covers from Monica's body. "Ohhhh, let me see how wet your cunt is right now!"

She lifted the hem of her sister's nightie and gazed down between her thighs. She hissed softly with in drawn breath and shook her fingers inside her sopping cunt again and again.

"God, honey – I remember it. Ohhh, it's still a pretty pussy after all these years, after all the fat prick Gil's fucked up it again and again."

"Vicky, don't – please, please don't…" Monica whimpered, feeling all resistance seep away from her with each drop of cunt juice seeping from her sweltering hole and coating her pussy lips and pubic curls.

Vicky reached out slowly. Monica watched the hand come. She knew what it was going to do. She remembered. Her breath sucked in, and her heart pounded. Her cunt throbbed and squirmed and sucked with involuntary spasms of anticipation.

Vicky's fingers brushed through the damp curls. They circled. They slid up and down the hollows of thigh and torso, teasing. Monica's hips lifted involuntarily.

"That's the way, darling," Vicky whispered softly. "That's the way you used to do it. You didn't want me to touch, but you just couldn't resist. I'm glad it's still that way, Monica. I'm glad."

Monica groaned loudly. She tried to make words of protest out of the sound, but it was just a groan. She could feel her cuntlips bloating to impossible puffiness, separating, parting, two protective petals swelling aside to end their protection and bare the juicy, red, silky hole of her pussy mouth.

Vicky watched her sister. There was a smile of happiness and satisfaction on her soft lips. There was a hooded, lustful quality to her eyes. Her own long hair fell silkily over her shoulder and trailed erotically over Monica's thighs.