John Friday - Mom suck big ones

He drained himself and sprawled limp after about a minute.

"That's all I've got right now," he gasped delightedly.

Melinda's pussy quaked with joyous after shocks. "But you'll want to do it again soon, won't you? I won't be such a baby the next time."

"You were just fine," he assured her. "I really liked fucking a virgin."

"Even your own cousin?"

"Especially my own cousin. You're such a beautiful girl, and I'm so glad you aren't the prude I always thought."

"My mother won't be able to control me like that anymore," Melinda said firmly. "I know what I want now."

"So do I," Angela interrupted. "I want to suck my son's cock while it's still wet with cum and cherry stain."

"Sounds good to me," Danny agreed quickly.

He pulled his cock out of Melinda and sat at the end of the couch near her feet. His cock remained firm, but not fully hard. Cum sheened its whole length, mixed with smears of virgin blood that looked pink in dilution.

The sight and her excitement made Angela's mouth water, more hungry to taste cock than ever before.

For a fleeting moment she wondered when, how, or even if it would all end. Everything done so far in her crazed search for satisfaction had only increased her desire.

Angela was on her knees on the floor between Danny's spread legs and bowed her head toward his cherry-stained cock. Sighing anxiously, she lifted his prick to her lips.

The taste of his cum was familiar enough, but now she caught the copper-sweet tang of blood. It made her heart race and her taste buds yearn. Sex was a multi-sensual experience, she'd learned. It wasn't simple muscle response. The sights, sounds and smells of unleashed lust all added to her pleasure. And perhaps taste most of all.

Angela lapped her tongue around his bulging cockhead and savored the tart-sweet elixir that gleamed all over it.

Angela's lips snugged into an O and slid down, her tongue rippling along the tender underside of her son's wet cock. She loved the taste and adored him. It hardly mattered that reckless and wanton desire had split her marriage asunder.

Melinda raised up on her elbows and watched, entranced. None of the girls she knew had ever sucked cock, even those who fucked like whores. It just seemed too gross to even consider, but Angela obviously enjoyed it.

Her head bobbed furiously and Danny's cock quickly swelled fully hard in the grasp of her warm lips.

"Ooooh, Mom! Nobody sucks prick better than you."

"That's because no one loves you or your big cock as much as I do. It's my whole life now, Danny. It's all that I have to live for!"

"Just suck it and shut up," he said impatiently. He was getting tired of that "you're all I have" routine. His plans for adventure and experimentation went well beyond her.

"Yes, dear," Angela said, obediently bowing her head down. His arrogance distressed her, but not enough to overcome the thrill she got from sucking his cock, especially now that it was slick with pink cherry stain. That made it all the more tantalizing.

"Just lick it clean and suck it hard again," he told her. "I don't want to waste cum shooting it down your throat this time."

"You'd rather fuck me?" she asked anxiously.

"No, I want to fuck Melinda again while her broken cherry is still raw. I love the way that makes her tight little pussy seethe."

"But, Danny, I arranged that for you. I deserve a turn."

"You deserve what I decide to give you, and if you don't get my cock hot again in a hurry, that's going to be a kick in the ass!"

"Yes, dear," Angela replied glumly, bowing to suck again. She did it more possessively than for simple pleasure, and Danny didn't find the anxious pull of her lips to be as exciting as he had before. It dawned on him then that he was getting tired of sex with his mother. He wanted to explore greener fields.

Danny fucked Melinda three times and taught her to suck cock between rounds, loving the timid suction of her young lips and the way she had to strain at first to swallow his stout cockshaft.

Angela served them dinner after that, a succulent pot roast done to perfection. She cooked up some brown-and-serve rolls and kept their glasses filled with a delicious red wine.

She was starting to feel more like a serving maid because Danny lavished all of his attention on his tawny-haired young cousin who despite earlier protests, obviously adored him now.

Angela felt a wave of relief when her sister came to reclaim the girl before breakfast the next morning.

Danny was still sleeping, bone weary, and Angela was nearly distraught. He'd only fucked her once during the long night.

When he awoke around ten, Angela said. "We have to talk."

"Sure, Mom. Just pour me some coffee and say what you want."

"There is no coffee: I drank the last of it early this morning."

"Then get dressed and go buy some more."

"Danny, we don't have any money. Your father took all that was in our bank accounts. I've got less than three dollars left in the cookie jar and nothing to cook for dinner tonight."

"Oooh, well… I guess you're going to have to go to work."

"Yes, and you will too. Any job I can get after being just a housewife for so many years will only pay minimum wage. That will barely pay the rent."

"We do have to eat," she reminded him sharply. "And I don't think we can count on help from your father."

"Yeah, well you work that out." Danny pushed back from the table and started toward the front door.

"Where are you going?"

"Down to Yvonne's. I'll bet she's got coffee, and I know she's got something that I want to eat!"

"You bastard!" she growled as he walked out the door. Angela had never felt so desperately alone before.

Her prospects for employment looked bleak. Angela hadn't worked outside the home since before Danny was born, and only then serving up burgers part-time in a fast-food place. Hardly an impressive resume.

She applied in a dozen places and got the same "Don't call us, we'll call you," response. One weary small businessman went on to explain the "trickle down" economic theory to her. "It means that little people at the bottom of the heap all get pissed on!" he said sharply.

Angela's last glimmer of hope was a diner on the edge of the warehouse district – a classic greasy spoon. In fact, that's what the owner had named it, The Greasy Spoon. It had a flyspecked sign in the window that said Waitress Wanted. That kind of place always needed a waitress. Only the desperate would think to apply, and then they'd start looking for something better.

The owner was a huge man, a bear in a soiled white apron and sweat-stained T-shirt with a cigarette pack rolled up in one sleeve. Paunchy and completely bald, he flashed a cool grin of appraisal as he looked her up and down.

"So you're a waitress, huh?"

"Yes, sir. A good one."

"Yeah? Where'd you work last?" Angela told him the name of the burger place, a big franchise operation now. "They only hire teeny-boppers," he said. "Oh, well… er, you see, I was a teenybopper at the time."

"No work experience since then?"

"I've been waiting hand and foot on an ungrateful husband and son," Angela shot back.

"Lady, I want your qualifications, not your life story."

"I need the job and I know I can do it," she moaned.

"Let's go out and back and see if the uniforms I got will fit over those big knockers of yours."

"It might improve business if they're a little tight," she said anxiously.

"Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. Come on." He nodded toward a rear door. "My name's Max, by the way."

"Angela," she replied with a smile strained with apprehension.

In the grubby little room that must have been his living quarters, Max turned and locked the door behind them.

"Strip," he said simply.