Grace Wilkinson - A family perversion

"Yeeeessss! I'm cuummmiiinnnnnngggg!" she yelled through clenched teeth and thrust her face forward into Natalie's steaming throbbing cunt lips.

Natalie lurched forward uncontrollably at the forceful contact, automatically reaching down to lock her hands behind Liz's head and press her face hard into her loins, swirling her belly over the tongue rotating maddeningly inside her and moaning and crooning out her own orgasm. Tom rocked back and forth mechanically into his wife, his lust-driven cock sluicing through her still convulsing cunt and his mouth buried in Natalie's warmly trembling thighs that were wet and musky smelling with her cum juice. In spite of the excitement of the moment, unpleasant thoughts raced through his mind. Revulsion and fear chilled his blood at the thought of their multiple incestuous coupling. He felt dazed. It just couldn't be true although all the while, the lascivious tingling in his loins grew and pushed him closer to his orgasm. He closed his eyes to lock out the sight of their three exhausted bodies that still quivered in the last sensuous throes of subsiding orgasm and felt his hotly pumping balls erupt wildly. His mouth opened wide with a loud unrestrained yell.

"Aaaaaaauuuuuuurrrrgggggghhhhh!" He felt his lewdly pumping sperm fill her clasping and unclasping cunt with a great rush. Then he closed his mind to everything but the insane race of pleasure that jerked the sperm from his churning balls down his cock like rain water rushing through a conduit in hot spasmodic spurts that seemed to be without end.

He slid to the mattress. The room was quiet except for an occasional low gasp or the rustling of bedcovers. Moments later he blinked open his eyes to find the scene still as strange and unreal as it had seemed in the emotion-torn seconds before his orgasm. His son's body bent heaving over the boy's mother's back, his hands cupping at each tit, and Liz was smiling at him thinly, a strange mask that wasn't a smile at all but a smirking expression of unveiled victory and conquest.

"What do you have to feel so damn proud of?" he asked her. "I wouldn't call what you just did an act of moderation exactly," he said, a touch of amused sarcasm in his voice. Liz first glanced away at the mirror, thinking how she would love to have one for their bedroom, and before she could look away, she met Tom's eyes again, this time in their mutual reflection. "Moderation," she said lightly but quite seriously, "is a matter of definition."