Bobby Redding: Mommy_s sick friends

"Okays you little fucker…" Elaine had pushed Claude's body against the floor, moving him away from Ella and his mother.

"Stick it inside of me." She bent the head of the prick toward her. "Hurt me, you queer."

Claude's face burned. He inhaled deeply, hating her as she forced the head of his cock against her pubic hair. She pulled at the side of her hole with her fingers, opening it wider. She leaned forward as the member entered her. For a moment he felt nothing. Then the walls closed in on him.

He shoved it inside of her. She threw her head back as she swiveled down on him. But now she moved closer and she was on top of him, supporting her weight on her palms as she rammed her cunt down on the angle of his penis. His fingers grabbed at her breasts. The tits went hard, and he forced the soft muscle back against the bones of her chest. They were heavy, like balloons filled with water. He let them sink back against his body as she forced herself down on him.

He looked at his mother. He could not see her face – only her ass as she sat and rose, sat and rose, thrusting her cunt against Ella's mouth. Irene was breathing heavily. Her arms were folded over her breasts, keeping them from moving as her body swung up and down, forward and back against Ella's lips and tongue.

Ella's hands were in her own cunt. She had one finger of one hand inside the hole, while the fingers of the other hand wiggled against the lips. She was jamming her butt against the floor, and her spine arched like a cat's as she pressed.

Claude felt himself cuming. He grabbed the flesh at Elaine's waist with his fingers, trying to hurt her with his nails. He tried to keep himself from cuming. The effort of contraction would have made him double up with pain had not Elaine been above him, pumping her own body against his with a force that made his ribs ache.

He squirmed out from under her and left her with her stomach forcing itself against the floor. Her fingers scratched at the rug as the walls of her vagina waited for the prick that never surged back into it, robbing her of her own orgasm.

When the spasms were over, she rolled over on her back and watched Claude walk over to his mother. Irene was pushing herself down on Ella's mouth with violent force; Elaine could not tell whether she was about to cum or whether she was climaxing already. Ella had lifted her hands away from her own cunt – shiny with lubrication smeared all over the folds – and was grasping Irene's ass, trying to keep her stationary, so that she would not collapse over her face as she came.

Claude put his arms to his mother's breasts, looking down on her. His body bent forward as he caressed them gently. The nipples were already hard. His hands moved under her arms. Irene was so distracted by the feel of his hands that her cunt almost went numb. She felt a dull pleasure in her pussy as Ella sucked her, but her body was slowed down so much that Ella could release her buttocks and begin to finger herself once more, this time with a finger from each hand moving into the slot and rubbing the walls.

With all his strength. Claude pushed his thumbs up against his mother's armpit. As though hypnotized, Irene rose up off of Ella's mouth. Ella stared as Irene stood up. She shut her eyes and licked the vaginal cum all over her lips as her hand opened and the palm pushed at her clit. Her legs spread even further apart, and the other hand moved up her body to knead her breast.

Claude embraced his mother as he shoved his cock between her legs. The head moved into the tangle of hair that grew from the crotch. He took the penis in his finally finding the opening hands and pushed it forward against the puckered folds.

Her sex slithered toward his own. He was inside her. Irene's eyes opened in horror as she felt her own son's small dick move against the walls of her cunt. His mouth was opening around the end of her breast. Every grain inside the aureole went erect as his tongue circled the nipple. He sucked in on the tip, and she moved against him until he was inside of her all the way, and the pressure of his small stomach against her excited her clit to complete erection.

She was supporting him, her hands on his ass. His legs bent at the knees as he tried to push himself up. She moved forward in quick, steady strokes, straight and uncomplicated. He could hardly detect the quivering of her walls as he thrust inside. It was a race to force himself toward her womb. She was less like a vacuum than a rushing river, and he felt himself being drawn pleasurably.

She scratched at the inside of his ass cheeks with her long fingernails as he fucked her. She teased the underside of the scrotum as the cock grew in spurts, feeling every expansion against her own walls.

She bent her knees as her body undulated. She could barely stand for her drunkenness and her excitement. She opened her mouth, and her tongue traveled over the surface of his cheeks. She felt his clenched teeth rip against her lips as he stroked forward and came inside of her. She dug her fingernails into his thighs, reaching toward his groin from behind. His last thrusts were long circular moves that finished as straight lunges as deep inside her cunt as his small cock could penetrate.

His cum had already streamed out of his prick head when she began to cum a second time pressing her fingers upon the small of his back. She riveted him to her and kept him all the way inside of her, writhing up and down with the full penetration as her second climax subsided.

Mother and son were alone in the car. Claude stared at the front of the stern gray building.

"There are lots of trees around, though," his mother said softly, as if she could read his mind. He laughed without mirth. His nostrils twitched with the ache of holding back his tears. Irene stared at him from under her sunglasses, worn to cover up the redness from days of crying.

"It really is the best thing. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes."

"I'll come to visit you. All the time. We'll have good times, I promise. Better than now. These past few years…" She looked back at the building, avoiding his glance.

"Yes. I know." He took Irene's hand in his own and squeezed it with affection. "Promise me something, Mom."

"Of course."

"Leave Elaine."

"I was going to. I told you that."

"No. I mean it. Not just 'going to', you know? Do it." He listened to her sigh, almost a wheeze of weariness.

"I promise."

"Good." He forced a smile. He was satisfied.

"It's all right if you don't want to go in with me. You've signed the papers, so you don't have to, I guess. They're…" He hesitated and then laughed before finishing the sentence. "They're expecting me."

"All right. Maybe that would be better. I'd cry, I know." Her voice broke.

"Oh, Mom, I'm sorry…" His face was wet as he buried it in her hair. Irene pressed her lips to his shoulder. "I'm so sorry," he said again, squeezing her tight before drawing away. His hand went immediately to the handle of the door. There was a clicking sound, and the door opened. A rush of cold air filled the front seat in a gust. He squeezed her hand again as she looked at him, her lips drawn tightly together.

"I love you, Mom."

"I love you, Claude."

"Still."

"Still."