Curt Aldrich - Deep Crotch Mother

The juices in her cunt gushed. Her body throbbed. She sucked her son’s prick heatedly, rubbing her fingers across her clit and between her slippery cuntlips until she was at the very verge of climax.

Then she jerked her mouth away from the child’s penis, letting it slap against his pajama-clad tummy, and she turned quickly onto her back to take the hot orgasm which exploded in her body. She moaned and writhed as the tentacles of fire reached along her churning legs and up to her brain, giving her intense satisfaction. And it was all right, she believed, because she was not climaxing with her son, but alone. The Lord had told her this was permissible, and she always accepted His word.

She immediately lapsed into a deep sleep…

Marcella arose when the first light of morning flooded into the room. Her children were still sound asleep, and she shut the drape on the window so that the light wouldn’t disturb them. Wrapping a robe around her nakedness, she went to the bathroom across the hall and relieved herself. Then she brushed her teeth and combed her auburn hair, which tumbled in glistening waves around her shoulders.

Floyd and his wife were having breakfast when she walked to the kitchen.

“Hmph!” was all the plump, dowdy, gray-haired woman said in response to Marcella’s cheery greeting, and she got up from the table to march out of the room.

“I guess your wife resents my being here,” Marcella observed sadly to the farmer, who was stuffing eggs and fried potatoes into his mouth.

“Don’t pay no mind to her,” he replied, and wiped his lips on a napkin as he stared at the enticing swells in the front of Marcella’s robe.

“Well, I would feel better about everything if she liked me.”

“You just concentrate on makin’ me like you, honey,” Floyd said, and reached for her.

His arm looped around her middle and he drew her close to his chair. His bony fingers parted the edges of her robe, spilling out her lush, rosy-nip-pled breasts.

She had to hold onto the temporary home which the Lord had provided for herself and her children. That was part of His plan. And so she let the farmer clutch and lift one of her large, squidgy tits, directing its nipple to his lips.

He groaned and fastened his hungry mouth around her inviting spigot. He sucked much more strongly than Timmy had done.

“Unnnnnnh… “ Marcella breathed, annoyed because the farmer was so demanding but she couldn’t help enjoying the feel of his tugging lips and lapping tongue.

His hand rolled her other breast and roughly bounced it up and down.

“Mr. Wilcox, it’s… uh… early in the morning!” she said plaintively.

“I woke up with a hard-on!” he panted after pulling his mouth from her breast. “I couldn’t think about nothin’ else but you!”

He pulled Marcella’s robe open all the way down, and he stared at her auburn muff. Groaning again, he bowed his shaggy gray head, driving his face into the abundant hairy triangle at the base of her belly.

Marcella thought about his wife, who had gone back to the bedroom but might return at any moment. However, if the Lord required that Marcella submit to the woman’s husband, in order to have a place for herself and her children to stay, she was prepared to do so. Sometimes adultery was permitted, the leader of her church had taught her, and this seemed to be one of the times when the Lord was telling her it was all right.

She spread her legs and squatted slightly, making her warm, soft-lipped cunt accessible to Floyd’s demanding mouth. He plunged his tongue into the meaty feast she offered, obviously preferring it to the eggs and bacon on his plate.

“Ooooooh!” Marcella breathed heavily, and worked her hips in a circle while still squatting. Floyd’s tongue reamed her elastic orifice and drew into his mouth the highly flavorful produce of several days’ sexual stimulation.

The middle-aged farmer got carried away, and he clutched the plump cheeks of Marcella’s ass, his hands underneath her robe. He yanked hard on her spongy pillows and squeezed them, crushing her plushy, moist snatch against his mouth. He shamelessly sucked and tongued her tangy-tasting cunt.

Marcella began bumping uncontrollably, her bare knockers bobbling up and down. She panted. Her spread-legged, bent-kneed pose was getting uncomfortable, and she wished that Floyd would sit her on the table.

But either he didn’t think of that or he didn’t want to interrupt his eating for even a moment. Marcella settled more and more into his hands as he held the cheeks of her ass. His fingertips were between the spread, satiny mounds, tickling very close to her anus. Marcella thought of how he had stuck a finger right up her asshole while they were out on the road, and she kind of wished he would do that again. But in the meantime, his tongue in her cunny felt very good.

(The Lord had never told her she should dislike what she did at His direction.)

Floyd rotated his hoary head, his hair tickling the inner surfaces of her smooth thighs. But she hardly noticed that, because of the wild things his tongue was doing in her cunt. No man had ever eaten her quite so well or so thoroughly or had seemed to enjoy the feast quite so much.

Just when she thought Floyd was through plunging his tongue deeply into her snatch and slurping the rich juices out, because he had withdrawn his tongue and was wiggling it through the lippy folds that surrounded her fuckhole, he drove it back up her channel, causing her to yelp with joy. Then out he went once more to lick through the curly hairs that covered her large lovelips. He found her stiff, tingling clitty and poked his tongue flutteringly at that. Again Marcella squealed. Now he sank his oral probe up her steamy twat once more.

“Ooooooh… God in HEAV-eeennnn!” she panted, clutching Floyd by the head. “What are you doooooo-ing to meeee?!”

She bumped her cunt fuckingly against the man’s face until she felt that if he didn’t let her set her ass on something solid she would collapse. Floyd didn’t, and she did. Her big bottom slipped from his hands and landed on the linoleum floor with a smack!

“Hellfire!” he cried, and leaped to his feet, overturning his chair.

Marcella stared at the high-standing peak in his overalls, which was right in front of her eyes. Hex brain went into a dizzy swirl. She wanted to free the farmer’s long, stiff love maker, which she had masturbated to a spurting climax yesterday-but she didn’t like the idea of having the thing rammed into her mouth, which was what she was afraid he might do, considering the position she was in.

Sucking her son’s little cockie was pleasurable, because it had a nice, delicate taste and wasn’t big enough to hurt her throat. But the large, thrusting bones of grown men tasted much stronger, she had learned, and she got scared sometimes when they stuck them into her mouth. Also, she did have some pride, and the Lord had never come right out and told her that she had to suck cock!

Her hesitation obviously frustrated Floyd, and he clawed at his fly, ripping down the zipper.

“No!” she cried, and tried to struggle to her feet, her titties shaking.

But Floyd pushed on the top of her head with one hand while he liberated his love tool with the other, and his eight-inch rod leaped out to stand quiveringly in front of her face. He clutched the blue-veined shaft and rolled back his foreskin, causing his lurid cock-knob to bulge while giving off a raunchy aroma.

Marcella’s eyes rolled. Her mouth went slack. She knew she was going to get fucked in the mouth whether she wanted it or not.

But Floyd didn’t push his prick right between her sensuous lips and start humping as she had feared he would do. First he played another little game: