Tom Allison: Naughty,naughty family

Horny. Horny and drunk. Horny to fuck her own son.

Cynthia Perrine, freshly divorced at age thirty-six, brushed the blonde hair out of her eyes and admired her voluptuous, big-titted body in the bedroom mirror. She wore clothing she would never have dared to venture out of the house in before, a pair of hot pants that clung to her rounded ass cheeks and a halter top that was stretched to bursting across her D-cup tits.

What if Randy came in and saw her like this? He'd probably never seen his mother in such clothes. Would he get a big hard-on in those tight jeans he always wore? Teenagers were like that; they were horny all the time. Then Cynthia could pull down his pants and fish out his prick, and then her son could fuck her.

A hot blush of deep shame spread across Cynthia's cheeks. Turning from the mirror, she picked up the highball glass on the bureau and took a deep swallow. She never would have fantasized such horrible, incestuous things before the divorce. She'd never been so fucking horny in her life.

The divorce had finally been consummated a few weeks ago, as the result of a long brewing personality conflict between herself and her ex. Cynthia had gotten their spacious suburban home, one of their cars, and custody of Randy, their son. Ted moved into an apartment, taking their daughter Felicia along with him.

It had been a fairly amicable divorce, and Cynthia had looked forward to living alone with her son. But she'd never anticipated how horny she would get, how desperately her pussy would throb for some stiff, fucking cock.

One problem she'd never had with Ted was their sex life, he'd always been a horny man, and, with such a gorgeous big-titted wife, his prick was ready twenty-four hours a day. Cynthia still remembered how good it had felt to awaken with her husband's cock already fucking into her pussy, or to relax herself before sleeping by sucking on his big delicious prick.

Now she was alone and horny, so horny that she'd begun to drink to blur her lust, and fingerfuck six or more times every day. It wouldn't have been that bad if she were horny for no one in particular, Cynthia thought ruefully. She was still a first-class piece of ass at age thirty-nine; men still got huge hard-ons from just watching her walk down the street.

There were lots of males available to date and fuck her.

What bothered her was being so horny for her teenage son.

Deep down inside she'd always been sexually curious about her darling Randy, but the wanton craving to fuck him had only blossomed, when her husband and Felicia had moved out. It was the most shameful desire she'd ever felt, but Cynthia felt powerless to control it.

She fantasized about Randy constantly, imagining him climbing naked out of bed or out of the shower, with a huge, stiff, throbbing prick. Cynthia jacked off to thoughts of sucking and fucking his cock, gurgling as she smacked on the bloated prick shaft, or whimpering as its steely stiffness fucked deeply into her cunt.

Taking the highball along with her, Cynthia sat on the edge of the bed and started to rub her hairy pussy through her shorts. Her son's body was so lean and hard. The way he'd looked this morning on his way to school, with his muscles bulging through his t-shirt, and the outline of his cock visible through his pants. Oooh, God, Cynthia thought, rubbing her cunt faster. Ooohhh.

The doorbell rang, startling her from her horny reverie. Forgetting her provocative outfit, Cynthia walked down the hall and opened the front door.

Standing on the stoop was a tall slender teenager who looked remarkably like her son. He was dressed like Randy, too, in a denim jacket and a pair of faded jeans that clung to the bulge of his prick. In his hand he held a sample case of some kind, and Cynthia quickly guessed that he was selling as an after school job.

"Uh, hi," the boy said a little awkwardly. "My name's Dave Crawford, and I'm the local representative for Elysium Cosmetics. We have a full line of, uh, toilet items and sundries to meet your needs. Would you like me to show you our line?"

Cynthia felt her nipples stiffening as she opened the door and motioned Dave inside.

He walked into the living room and sat gingerly on the edge of the couch, and Cynthia found herself staring with increasing desire at the protrusion of his prick.

Cynthia sat next to him, never taking her eyes off the bulge in his crotch. Dave launched into a well-rehearsed explanation of Elysium's cosmetics and their features. Cynthia listened and wiggled her ass hornily on the couch beside him. What harm could come in fucking this handsome teenage stud, she thought wantonly. At least it would provide her with a sexual release other than her own boy.

"Now, uh, the best thing about our facial wash is that it cleanses without damaging the skin," Dave continued, withdrawing a sample jar from the case. "Skin is very sensitive, and if you, uh, damage the outer layers it can cause spotting and blemishes."

He prattled on with his sales spiel, but he seemed to be having trouble concentrating, and he looked unduly nervous. After awhile Cynthia realized that he was staring at her body, particularly her big tits.

Again she glanced at the crotch of his pants, and this time her pussy throbbed with lust as she saw that his prick had grown enormously. The meaty cockshaft was now as hard as stone, sticking obscenely through the denim, obviously ready for a good fuck.

"Now, uh, the special feature of our mascara…"

"Dave, why are you stating at me like that?" Cynthia asked suddenly, surprising herself in her boldness. "What are you looking for?"

Dave blushed fiercely and averted his eyes. Cynthia knew that seducing a teenager was wrong, but she couldn't help herself. Her pussy was burning and juicing, and her nipples were so stiff that they hurt. She needed a good fucking immediately.

"Uh, nothing," Dave said nervously. "I had something in my eye."

"I don't think so, Dave." Cynthia wiggled her ass closer to him on the couch until her soft, shapely, creamy thigh touched his hip. She dropped her fingers lightly to his leg. "I think you were looking at my tits."

Dave gulped hard and looked away. Cynthia told herself to stop again, but the farther she went the farther she wanted to go. Reaching behind her back, she undid the bow, of her halter top. Then she stripped it off her voluptuous body, baring her huge, milk-white tits.

Dave looked at her speechlessly. Her nipples were very large and rosy, and the tips were crinkled into stiff rubbery buds. His cock began to pound in his jeans.

"Dave, I don't know if I have enough money for all those cosmetics you're showing me. But I'll make a deal with you." Moving her hand all the way up his leg, Cynthia cupped his cock bulge and massed his prick lewdly. "If I give your dick a nice sucking, will you give me the mascara for free?"

"Oh God," Dave whispered hoarsely. "I can't believe this! Oh my God…"

Sliding off the couch, the horny divorcee knelt on the floor between his legs. Hurriedly she unzipped the boy's pants and tugged them down to his ankles with his shorts, revealing his stone-hard cock.

His prick was a big one all right, long and fat and very stiff. Cynthia's pussy tingled and burned as she wrapped her hand tightly around the root of his cock, squeezing his prick, holding up his hard-on for inspection. The shaft of his cock was pink and laced with blue veins, and the prick-knob was a bit larger than a plum. Sticky pre-cum leaked from his piss hole, moistening her hand as she started to jack him off.