J Bradley - Mom going down

Monica stood in front of the stove and watched the bacon sizzle and sputter in the pan – six slices, all for Gil. She forked them over and pushed them aside to make room for the half-carton of eggs he'd eat before he left.

She sighed and pushed a lock of teak-brown hair from the side of her young-featured face. She wrapped the thin housecoat more tightly around her slim, curving body.

She made a mental note to fix the belt while Gil was out on the rig this time. It kept gaping open at the wrong times, and she was sure she'd shown her son her tits and cunt and, ass by now, all in bits and flashes, like a rank exhibitionist.

She tugged and sighed again, slipping the bacon from the pan to drain on a paper towel. She began the task of breaking eggs and felt that strange confusion of emotions run through her mind.

She was never certain how she should feel about Gil's being gone a month at a time, stuck all that way out into the Gulf on an oil rig.

It was a mixed blessing every time he left. She got lonely for him. But her sore cunt got a rest while he was gone, too.

Thinking about her pussy made her conscious of the itch and throb between her naked legs. That brought on a spasm of her tight, flaming asshole, and she let out a sound as if she'd just been burned by popping, hot grease.

She swore softly under her breath. It was when she felt this way that she was glad he was leaving. It was going to take her half a week to get her cunt and asshole back to normal after the hours of solid fucking he'd given her last night.

His big prick had drilled into her body again and again, as if probing for oil in her ass instead of in the Gulf. When he'd shot his first load up her cunt, it had been a gusher of white jism.

She put her hand to her lap and pressed inward against her sore twat with the heel of it. She let out another small sound. Yes, she was going to welcome the rest from his reaming cock this time, even if she did start getting horny before the first week was out.

"Hi, baby," he said, coming into the kitchen in his shorts. "Hey, come on back in here a minute. I've got a swell going-away present for you."

She turned and looked at him with a half-fearful expression in her eyes. He nodded his head toward the bedroom and grinned lecherously. She saw the thick, stocky build of him, the sandy hair, the blocky face. She also saw the rod-shaped length of his heavy cock thickening inside his shorts.

Her cunt spasmed again. "Oh, Gil!" she moaned. "Not again – no, honey! I-I've got your eggs on already. Gil…"

He came up to his and wrapped a thick, strong arm about her slender waist and pulled her body against his barrel chest as if she were a rag doll.

Her firm, pointed tits mashed against him. His mat of chest hair scratched the tender nipples he'd sucked two inches longer than normal last night. The thin garment offered no protection against their sensitivity.

He lifted a big hand and cupped the end of her tit and mauled it through the thin housecoat, rolling it over her chest, sweeping the other tit into the span of his gasp, then rolling both of them with the palm of his one hand.

"Pretty nice tits for an old broad like you," he grinned. "Firm and big, and they fill the hand just light."

"Gil, stop – the eggs…"

"Fuck the eggs," he breathed heavily, pulling her against him again.

"Honey, this old broad's done in from last night still," she persisted, smiling in her pretty way to make a joke of it.

"Ah, thirty-five's not that old. Come on, baby, I'm gettin' a big one started here. Shit, I'm gonna be gone a Goddamn month again. Here, reach down and feel it."

She didn't have to reach down. She could already feel it. His cock swelled to full erection as he talked and squeezed her tits. He had his hands on the tight, round globes of her ass now, kneading them firmly.

He pulled her middle tightly against his own, completely covering her asscheeks with his palms. His prick throbbed and hammered insistently against her mound, and she could feel the pulses vibrate down to the full, tender lips of her sore cunt.

"Gil, stop it," she pleaded softly. She kept her voice down. She avoided the bruising kiss he was trying to give her. She glanced toward the kitchen door. "Bruce might come in and see you like this, trying to rape me in the kitchen," she smiled, still trying to keep it light.

Gil half snorted. "Do the kid good," he said, squeezing her asscheeks again. "Maybe if monkey saw, monkey'd do it to that cute little twat he keeps mooning over."

"Gil, don't start picking at him again. And don't call Nancy a little twat. She's a nice, pretty girl," Monica said reproachfully.

"The gals knew there was a big ready cock about to fuck 'em when they saw me coming down the street. The women, too," he grinned. "He'd better hurry up and stick that little twat, or I might just do it for him one day, just to show that girl all us Evans' aren't too stupid to know what to do with a wet pussy."

He started pushing her back into the bedroom. "Gil, the eggs are burning," Monica said quickly, her voice suddenly chilly.

She reached out for the spatula, ready to knee him in the balls if he didn't let go of her. She couldn't stand it when he talked that way, about what a big fucker he was. Particularly when he talked about shoving his heavy, thick prick into Nancy's cute little body.

It turned some women on to hear a man talk like that. Her twin sister, Vicky, for instance.

"Yeah, take 'em out," Gil said.

He didn't release her. He backed toward the stove and made her reach around his body. He grinned as she leaned against his thick chest and worked the eggs from the pan.

Her tits rolled and pressed against his body. Her cunt swiveled against his stiff cock, making the shaft even harder and thicker than it was already, and she knew she wasn't going to escape.

"You'd better eat them, honey," she said. She looked at the plate heaped with bacon and eggs and nearly gagged. She didn't know how he could eat so much. He wasn't really that big a man. Only stocky.

He laughed and dipped his head and started sucking at one tit he'd worked free of the housecoat.

"Gil!" Monica cried, glancing toward the doorway again, praying Bruce wouldn't come in and see this.

"You said to eat 'em," he ginned.

"Your eggs, you oaf!"

"Ahhhh, I'll eat 'em cold," he said, holding her tightly again. He lifted her up from the floor easily, carrying her as if she were a bouquet of flowers instead of a hundred-and-ten-pound woman.

"Gil…" she cried, looking over her shoulder, seeing the unmade bed loom larger and larger. Her cunt throbbed and reminded her of its soreness again.

"God, you're a little doll," he breathed huskily, his prick now jutting through the slit in his shorts, thick and full.

"Did-did I tell you that Vicky was coming to stay while you were gone this time, honey?" she said conversationally, even though it was clearly too late to divert him.

His prick pounded heatedly against her. "Vicky? Yeah? Staying here? Damn!"

He puffed a little harder. Monica could have kicked herself. After so many years, she'd forgotten how blatantly and unashamedly Gil's tongue hung out when her twin sister was around. She'd never understood it. They looked exactly alike. Yet, Vicky had that effect on all men, and she didn't. It was more than looks. It was something that oozed from Vicky, like the scent from a filly in constant heat. It screamed "Fuck me!" to the whole world.

Gil kicked the door shut. He carried her to the bed. He laid her out on it and gazed down on her with eyes brimming with lust and a cock that wouldn't stop pounding and throbbing now.

"Vicky, huh?" he said again. "Now, why would you go and invite her to stay just when I'm leaving for a month? Old Stan's been buried a good six weeks now, and that sister of yours has got to be screaming for a big fat prick to fuck by now. What good's it gonna do her with me way out on the rig and her here? Baby, you gotta plan things better than that!"