Jeremy Baker - The Harlot Seed

Sticking the tip of her tongue into the slot of his prick head, she pushed it deep as it would go, then drew it out to run hotly and wetly around the circumcised rim. As she slid her mouth back, Carey kept trembling, but gave a little wiggle of his crotch that told her he was picking up the rhythm, getting the idea.

He loved it, adored the way she used her lips and tongue on his slippery cock; she could tell by the panting, the uncoordinated movements of his pelvis and the way his delicious young prick bobbed inside her mouth. Regina began to suck it then, dipping her cheeks in, then puffing them back out, pulling his cock deep, then shoving it back with her tongue.

Her hands were busy, too-one of them cupping his balls, squeezing and tickling, the other toying with the base, the shaft, playing with it as she continued to suck. Carey jerked uncontrollably, held to her head and started to actually fuck her face, pumping his cock into her throat, pulling it to him in preparation for another long and lunging stroke.

She rode with him, biting sometimes, lapping sometimes, always drawing his beautiful prick as deep as she could possibly take it. Regina caressed his ass, trailed her fingers into the cleft, brought them around to his balls again. The speed of his thrusts increased, and she closed her eyes, waiting, helping, hurrying along the sky-rocketing burst of semen that was swiftly building to release.

It came with tender violence, in a fountain of come that gushed hotly into her throat, passing over the roof of her mouth and sliding greasy along her trembling tongue. It came with a hissing ejaculation that bathed her inner cheeks with the treasured juices of his balls, and Regina lost herself totally in the gulping of the precious stream.

Faintly musky, slightly sour and slightly sweet, the semen was thrilling in the exotic blending of its flavors, delicious as it oozed down her straining avid throat. She drank it lasciviously, siphoning for more and more, until at last the quivering spurts diminished into nothingness.

Still, she clung to the boy's ass, chewed lightly upon his prick and licked at a drying head. Regina had forgotten that she'd led him out here under the lilac bush to get rid of him quickly, before he could compromise her in her own home. She forgot everything except the fantastic intimacy that eating a cock brought her, the feeling of both dominance and passivity.

Only when Carey Baker wavered and held to her head for support, did she let up on him, allowing his prized shaft to slide from her reluctant lips. It made a plopping sound, and she couldn't resist moving her lips along the pole to nuzzle briefly into the shaggy blackness of his pubic hair.

Carey's crotch hair would be the same color as his mother's, she thought, and probably of the same general texture. Breathing deeply, Regina sat back from the boy and knew a moment of envy for her husband.

Bill Abbott had already tasted the honey of Stella's mound, through both his tongue and his prick. Tonight, she thought-tonight.

"Mrs. Abbott," Carey sighed, "that was-it was so great, so far-out-I wanted to cry and yell and faint, kind of."

She stood up. "I'm glad you enjoyed it, dear. Your daddy gets a big kick out of it, too. He taught both your mom and me how to do it, you know-how to eat prick."

For some reason, she wanted to hurt him just a little, and by the stricken look on his face, she had succeeded. Maybe it was because he was going to get her own son into a situation where Dale could also fuck Stella Baker. Was she jealous of her own son, too?

"Hey," she said contritely, "I didn't mean that badly. Before very long, we'll all be swinging together. Maybe you can make it with Bill and me, or your father and me."

"I-I'd like that," he said. "I think."

She watched him closely as he pulled up his shorts and jeans, as his still-rigid prick was tucked safely from sight. "But you'd rather fuck your mother?"

Carey flinched visibly, and dropped his eyes. "I-I didn't say that. I mean, after all, she's my mom, and just because I helped you and my dad, and Mr. Abbott-"

She said it softly, wonderingly, because now it was very plain to her:

"You want to fuck your mother more than anything in the world."

He swallowed and his face went red. "She-one time I got to see her do it with my dad. It was-it was crazy, and I hid in their bedroom closet and jacked off three times while I watched his prick slide in and out of her beautiful, beautiful pussy. Three times I came, and it was like I hadn't come at all, because when she moaned and shook that gorgeous little ass, when she told him how good his cock felt, it was like I could go over and pull him out from between her legs and fuck her myself, all night long, fuck her over and over and over, rolling around in that wonderful cunt until I just died."

Regina touched his face tenderly. "Poor darling, to need so much, to suffer so much. I'll help you. Honest I will. One way or another, you'll get to screw your mom, and soon."

Breathlessly, Regina waited, being a peeper again, but with a vast difference this time. Now she wasn't screwing anyone; she was crouching in the hallway of the Baker home, waiting for Stella to come out of the bathroom into her bedroom.

Her son Dale was already in the bedroom, jittery and pale, but with a set to his jaw that meant he was determined to carry this event through to the finish. Regina's heart beat very fast, with him and for him, and her fingernails dug into the wood of the door through which she peeped.

Carey Baker had been very fast, finding Dale down at the drugstore and setting the whole thing up within an hour. She couldn't believe it had taken only that long, when Carey called her on the phone to tell her he had Dale in the house. She'd better come right over, he said, because his mother was in the shower and nobody else was home yet.

He'd stand guard below, and keep anyone from coming upstairs, he said-if she wanted to be in on it. And of course, Regina had wanted to be in on it, wanted to see and hear it all from the very beginning. She had run across the yards and through the kitchen and practically leaped up the stairs past a shaky boy at the foot of them.

And now she saw her son standing slim-hipped and a little scared, standing almost as tall as his father, but slimmer and with her own coloring.

He looked golden in his teeshirt and jeans, his hair long and wavy, the profile of his face like something from an ancient coin. Regina knew a dart of pain in her belly, an uncertainty, an envy that made her mouth bitter. Stella would have this beautiful young man; Stella would take him on the bed there, feeding upon his bronzed beauty.

She came from the bathroom with a fluffy towel around her hips, her firm, high tits bouncing, their nipples not yet erect, but ripe as olives. When she saw the waiting boy, Stella stopped in mid-stride and tried to make the towel cover the rest of her freshly scrubbed, lithe body; it didn't make it. One breast was still exposed, and one thigh gleamed darkly.

"Dale! What-what the hell-"

He said it rapidly: "I-I know you've been making it with my dad, and I can prove it. Do you-I mean-I can show Polaroid pictures to your kids. And you-you wouldn't want that."

Staring through the crack in the door, Regina watched Stella's shocked face and realized that the woman was still about half-smashed from the brandy they had downed earlier. When the first surprise faded from Stella's eyes, it was replaced by a hot, calculating glow.

"No," Stella said, "I guess I wouldn't want that. So why did you sneak into my bedroom and tell me? Do you want money?"

He shook his head, his hands clenched at his thighs. "No; n-no money. I want-I want-"

Stella smiled, a feral and wet smile. "Me? I'm your payoff, Dale? If you want me, go on and say it."