Curt Aldrich - Deep Crotch Mother

“Mama, what’s the matter?” young Beth asked as she entered the room. “What are you yelling about?”

“It’s nothing, dear,” Marcella said, seeking to reassure the child. “Now just go back to your game with Timmy.”

Thad suddenly got an idea, one of the most wicked that his devilish mind had ever conceived, and he smiled broadly.

“How would you like to go for a ride with me, Beth?” he invited.

“Oh, yes!” the twelve-year-old cried. “Mama, may I?”

Marcella turned questioning eyes to the pastor.

“I want to take a little tour of the area,” he told her. “I realize that you’re busy, getting settled in this apartment. Your children and I should get better acquainted, anyway.”

“Yes, of course. Perhaps Timmy would like to go, also.”

“Some other time,” Thad said quickly. “Come on, Beth. I’ll have her home in a couple of hours,” he added over his shoulder as he ushered the child out.

If Marcella won’t help me with old Barnaby, I’ll get her daughter to do so, he was thinking. A man of Barnaby’s age would probably appreciate some real young stuff.

Too many years of playing God had pushed Thad over the line into madness. He was able to justify in his own mind anything he wanted to do, however capricious or outlandish, regardless of whom it hurt.

His penis twitched in his trousers as he guided young Beth to his car. He was threatening to get a hard-on even before he began with her.

He was so intent upon his perverse plan that he didn’t notice the car parked mid-way up the block, a man and woman seated inside it. The woman’s red hair would have attracted his attention if he had glanced that way, and he would have recognized her immediately.

The other car pulled away from the curb and followed him as he drove toward the outskirts of town…

Marcella felt desolate. She couldn’t shake the notion that she had fallen from grace with the Lord. If the devil now owned her, she had no guidelines to follow any more.

She strolled listlessly into the next room, where her twelve-year-old son was seated at a gameboard, waiting for his twin sister to return.

“Mama, where’s Beth?” he asked, turning his bright, boyish face in his mother’s direction.

“She went out for a ride with Pastor Polk,” Marcella replied. “They’ll be back in awhile.”

“But we didn’t finish our game!” the lad protested. “And just when I was winning!”

Marcella moved up beside his chair. “Well, maybe I can finish the game for her. How do you play it, anyway?”

She leaned forward to look at the game-board as her son started to explain the moves. Inadvertently she allowed a braless breast to rub against the lad’s shoulder.

He turned his head and gazed into the valley between his mother’s tits. The dangling globes, which were very white and soft, were visible nearly to the rims of her nipples.

“Mama, I don’t feel like playing the game any more,” Timmy said.

“Well, what would you like to do, dear?” Marcella innocently inquired.

“I’d like to suck your titties.”

She had let Timmy do that when they were in bed, never at any other time. And she had permitted it only because the Lord had told her it was all right. Wasn’t it natural for a child to suckle at his mother’s breasts?

A surge of forbidden excitement coursed through Marcella, because the fact was that she enjoyed very much the feeling and sight of her son’s mouth tugging at her nipples. Perhaps it wouldn’t be bad to let him do it right now, she thought.

Why am I even thinking about good and bad any more, she mused, now that the Lord has abandoned me?

She unbuttoned the top of her dress and let a full, luscious titty pop out. Her son’s eyes widened with fascination, and he clutched her exposed, quivery breast. Pulling the pliant mound to his innocent young face, he clamped his lips around her rosy nipple.

Marcella shut her eyes in rapture as her son began to suck her tit. She had to remain leaning forward, her titty dangling somewhat. As she squirmed, the soft flesh shook liquidly against Timmy’s mouth. He tugged on her nipple harder and made a muffled moaning sound.

Marcella released her other breast from confinement, so that both her soft white beauties hung before the child’s face. She slowly shook them to and fro, dragging one stiff nipple from his mouth and shoving the other in. The lurid sound of the lad suckling at her nipples, and the warm, loving feel of it, thrilled Marcella.

She became very hot.

As was her custom when she and Timmy were in bed together, she reached into the lad’s lap and freed his young penis from his clothes. Of course, it was very stiff. Marcella began to stroke her son’s adorable upthrust rod, gliding his foreskin up and down across the ridge of his glans.

She got hotter and hotter.

The old restraint, which had kept her from going beyond a certain point with Timmy because the Lord wouldn’t have approved, no longer applied; the Lord didn’t approve of her anyway. She no longer felt she was one of His chosen people.

Giving free rein to the incestuous passion that she felt, Marcella clutched her son’s free hand-the one that wasn’t holding the plump breast he was sucking-and she directed that hand up underneath her skirt.

Obviously delighted, his little pecker quivering in his mother’s grasp, Timmy wedged his hand between her warm, satiny thighs and he felt the enticing softness of her cunt through the sleek nylon that cuddled it.

Marcella’s cunt throbbed. Her knees turned weak. She could no longer remain standing, bent forward as she was. She would have to lie down…

It was but a small additional step to take Timmy to bed, and she did that, wrapping the youth’s slender body in her arms and hugging him against her soft, bare tits. She wiggled her abundant warm flesh against his face, and his eager mouth chased her nipples.

Of his own accord, the lad re-placed his hand between his mother’s legs, and she squirmed heatedly as he found her cunt once again. She hated the sleek, thinly stretched nylon that separated his groping fingers from the throbby, fast-moistening crevice of her cunt, and she wriggled more actively, hoping her son would get the idea and extend his youthful fingers underneath her panties.

He was hesitant, however. Or else he simply didn’t know what to do. But he was busy enough, getting his pecker stroked by his mother’s warm, loving hand while he sucked a titty and pawed the other bobbly globe with one hand, continuing to tease and tickle her sleek panty-crotch with the other.

Sticky, warm juice began to seep through the nylon, and it dampened the boy’s fingers. Timmy seemed surprised by that, and he drew his hand back.

Giving a groan, Marcella rolled atop him. Straddling his childish form, supporting her weight on her elbows and knees so as not to crush him, she worked her hips hotly, grinding her pleasure zone against the youth’s prick, which was sandwiched upward between their bodies. This activity caused her dangling tits to drag to and fro across his face, her stiff nipples jumping in and out of his mouth.

“Oooh, my sweet, darling Timmy!” Marcella moaned. “Mama loves you so much!”

“And I love you, Mama!” he groaned in reply. “Gosh, this is great!”

His hands found their way to her wriggling, writhing bottom which was scarcely covered by her skirt, and the lad boldly flipped her skirt up to the small of her back. This exposed his mother’s panty-clad curves, and he wrapped his boyish hands around her vibrating mounds, squeezing them through the filmy nylon.

“Pull Mama’s panties down!” she begged, continuing to grind against him. Her heart was thumping madly, and her throat was dry.