Curt Aldrich - Deep Crotch Mother

“Yes, Lord!” Marcella exclaimed, shutting her eyes as she wriggled.

So excited that he could scarcely keep his truck on a straight course, the farmer felt his way up her stockings until he reached her smooth, warm thighs above the gartered tops of her hose. She gradually spread her legs wider apart, to grant him greater access.

Floyd’s pecker stuck straight up in his overalls as he petted the pretty woman’s cunt through her sleek silken pants.

“My children and I badly need a place to stay until our leader gets here and makes arrangements for us,” she said. “Do you suppose that you and your wife… that is, if you’re married, could see your way clear… to take us in?” She was panting heatedly by that time as she wriggled against the farmer’s intimate caress.

“Hellfire!” Floyd said again, and stretched the left elastic of her panties once more, this time away from her cunt.

“Oooh, nooo-not hellfire!” she passionately corrected. “It is the power of the Lord!”

Amazed by what he was hearing, but even more impressed by what he felt, Floyd tickled her hairy cuntlips with his middle finger.

“Yessss!” she hissed hotly, and threw her hips forward with a corkscrew twist.

The farmer’s finger was entrapped-not as tightly as the finger of his other hand had been, but tightly enough, as it sank deeply into her moist, warm snatch.

Marcella bounced her bottom on the truck seat while he stroked his upward-curling finger in and out of her slippery channel, across the throbbing tip of her clit. From the corner of his eyes, he looked down and watched the bobbing of the large, creamy swells inside the neckline of her cotton blouse.

“Will you… take me in… Mr. Wilcox?” she asked gaspingly.

“I don’t know… “ he said, breathing hard. “Ain’t got much room.”

Marcella’s hand moved to his lap and unzipped his overalls. Floyd fought to keep the truck on the road as she pulled his erect, heavily veined penis out of his pants and began to stroke the throbbing column in the curve of her thumb and fingers.

Her hand felt delightful as it glided slowly up and down on his cock. She gripped his shaft just hard enough, and his leathery foreskin unrolled and rolled back again across the ridge and bulbous swell of his corona. Each pumping, clasping stroke of her loving hand gave him added pleasure, jacking him toward heights of passion which he hadn’t reached with his frumpy wife in years.

The plunging of his curled finger up into her crevice increased in tempo, and she got slicker with every stroke until it felt to him as if he were sticking his finger into a slushy, overripe fruit which had been warmed by the sun. Her passionate writhing had worked her skirt high on her lap, and he stole glances at her lush thighs which were half-clad in sheer stockings. Her pale skin was marvelously enticing above the brown, expanded stockingtops. White garter straps pressed against her flesh. The leg elastic of her pink panties bit into the back of his wrist as his hand rapidly churned, hidden from view, obscenely stretching her silk briefs as his finger plunged up and down inside her.

Just as stimulating to the middle-aged farmer was the sight of his own prick standing proudly in the circle of the woman’s pumping hand. His veins throbbed with vitality which recalled his youth, and his cockhead swelled like a ripe tomato.

“Uuuuh!” he rasped. “Yeah! Keep doing it!” he begged, fearing she would stop just before he reached the payoff.

But Marcella didn’t stop. Her pumping of his prick grew even faster and more fervent, in time with his diddling of her flooded twat.

She squirmed frantically, finally crying out, “Ooooh, Jesus!” and her cunt seemed to gulp at the farmer’s finger.

Floyd’s cock, straining mightily, twitched in her tenacious grasp. His bulbous knob pulsated, sending a geyser of thick, whitish sperm spurting up past the steering column and all over the dashboard of the truck. Floyd’s garishly swollen cockhead ballooned visibly again and again, spitting out the product of his over-stimulated balls.

He groaned, his hands jerking as they gripped the wheel, and the truck snaked back and forth across the white line of the highway. Fortunately there was no other traffic.

“Goddamn!” Floyd said, still obviously finding it difficult to believe what had happened to him out of a clear sky on that lazy summer afternoon.

“You must not take the Lord’s name in vain,” Marcella cautioned in full sincerity as she stuffed the farmer’s softening sex organ back into his clothes. “God is good. He reveals to us what we should do and guides us in the completion of our work.”

Floyd quickly zipped his fly and stared at her. “Did you mean it about wantin’ to move in with my wife and me?”

“Oh, I certainly did!”

“Okay. Sarah might have a fit, but I reckon I can handle her. But I gotta warn you, we ain’t got a very big house. It’s gonna be crowded.”

“My children and I can sleep in the same bed,” Marcella replied.

“Huh? Why, they’s nearly teenaged, ain’t they?”

“They’re twin twelve-year-olds,” Marcella said proudly.

“Well, ain’t that a little old for a boy and girl to be bunkin’ together? Or for a boy to be bunkin’ with his mama?”

“Mr. Wilcox, my children and I are pure in the sight of the Lord.”

“Yeah. Well, what do you figger the Lord would think about what you and me just did?”

“Why, He wanted us to do that!”

Floyd blinked. “How do you know?”

“Because He told me so. I am in constant communication with Him.”

“Hellfire… “ the farmer muttered to himself in consternation.

“So you see how the Lord constantly takes care of us?” Marcella said to her children as she walked nearly naked across the guest room that they occupied in the Wilcox farmhouse. “We had no money, and no place to go, but the Lord directed this nice man to take us in.”

Timmy and Beth were already snuggled into bed, and they gazed at their mother who strutted before them in her stockings, garters, and pink pants. The lad’s small cock was stiff as he stared at his mother’s bare titties. Perfect plump orbs they were, bulging with bouncy firmness, their rosy nipples cocked.

Timmy wriggled beneath the covers, and his sister gave him an inquisitive look. That funny thing, which she had noticed a few times, was happening to him again, she suspected. It seemed to happen when he looked at his mother, or at her, without their clothes on.

Beth wondered what it was all about when her twin brother’s pee-pee stuck straight up against his belly, exposing the small sac that hung at its base. She wondered what was in that sac and why boys needed such a thing. Of course, Timmy’s pee-pee was to pee with, but she couldn’t figure out why it sometimes stood up, stiff as a stick. Their mother always noticed when it did that, too, and she made little remarks about the Lord’s power and patted Timmy on the head.

Mama certainly has a big behind! young Beth thought as she watched her mother standing before the dresser mirror, wiping off the small amount of lipstick that she wore.

Marcella’s ass, while undeniably large, was nonetheless firm and shapely. Her panties were stretched to near bursting, the pink nylon drawn taut and thin around her lush buttocks. The lower portions of the pale hemispheres had escaped from her panty elastics.

Her thighs, above her stockings, were wide, promising a warm saddle for a man to sink into. But her children didn’t think anything about that, because they didn’t know about such things. Never having gone to public school or had any friends of their own age, because they were constantly with their mother and had spent their entire lives moving from place to place, they knew only what she had taught them.