Bob Kelly: Orgy with mom

Joyce Lankin sat in the living room of her home sipping a tall Scotch and soda and staring at the clock on the wall. It was her fifth stiff drink of the afternoon and she was well on her way to being totally smashed. And the itch in her hot cunt wasn't helping matters. Her eyes blurred out of focus as they tried to follow the sweep hand on the expensive clock.

Even though the sun burned brightly outside, the plushly furnished room was semi-dark. Joyce had drawn heavy drapes across the windows. A single lamp burned in the large room, casting shadows over her half-naked body.

Joyce was waiting… waiting for her son!

That morning, she had decided to put an end to the torment that raged within her. Joyce had decided to face the facts. Billy, her eighteen-year-old son, turned her on. And there was nothing she could do about it.

For months she had tried to put him out of her mind. She tried not to think of the firmness of his thighs, or the way his prick bulged against the front of his skin-tight jeans. But he was always there, always near her.

Joyce had watched her son grow from a child to a man. She had seen the muscles in his arms and back harden into strong hands. She longed to let her fingers outline them against his bare skin, feel the heat of his body against her own.

And Joyce had watched her son grow emotionally too. When her husband of eighteen years ran off with the twenty-year-old secretary he was fucking at the office, Billy seemed to understand. He was only fourteen at the time, but Joyce knew that her son understood.

And from that moment on, he was no longer a little boy. He was given more responsibility around the house, Joyce had gotten a nice alimony settlement from her ex-husband, and she allowed Billy a free hand with the money.

He never failed her. Bills were paid on time and he was handling everything perfectly. Billy was in charge of the household and had quite comfortably taken her ex-husband's place.

And for the two years since he had left, Joyce had never once brought any guys home to fuck. Of course she played around with a few one-night stands, but she had fucked on the side even before the divorce.

Joyce had plenty of chances to grab off a handsome stud. At the age of thirty-eight she had a spectacular body. Her thrusting tits were huge and firm, her nipples like warm cherries. Her tight waist flowed into wide, rounded hips. Her ass wiggled invitingly when she walked and her legs were long and graceful. Joyce Lankin always turned heads when she walked into a room.

But bringing a man into her home would only be an insult to her son. It would challenge his authority as head of the house and she didn't want to do that. She was proud of her son who had suddenly grown into a man.

Joyce gave Billy the freedoms that went with his added responsibilities. He was coming home later and later each night, and she could tell that some nights he had been with a girl. And on those nights, she was jealous. She wanted to be the woman climbing between Billy's legs. She wanted to be the one sucking his sweet-tasting cock!

That morning, Joyce decided that it was time for Billy to take his rightful place up her cunt. She had worked out an entire plan of action and was determined to stick to it. It was Friday, and she and Billy would have the whole weekend together, undisturbed.

More than once, Joyce had caught Billy peeking at her while she was getting dressed. When she sensed that he was watching, she would put on a little show for him, hoping that he was pulling on his prick while she showed herself off. Joyce never let him know that he had been caught. She didn't want to embarrass her handsome son.

Joyce chose her sexiest underthings to wear for Billy when he got home from school. He was usually home by four. They would have dinner together, talk for a while and then he would go out. The one time she had asked him where he was going, he had been evasive and Joyce decided against pressing it.

Joyce was wearing black fishnet stockings, held taut against her long legs by a black lace garterbelt. She wore a pair of black nylon panties over the garterbelt. She knew how much her husband liked fucking her with her stockings on and she thought that Billy might take after the old son-of-a-bitch.

A tiny black bra hardly contained the thrusting fullness of Joyce's fat tits. Black high heels and a liberal amount of sexy perfume finished off her outfit. She was sure that the sight of her sexy body would turn his cock rock-hard.

By one o'clock that afternoon, Joyce had managed to pull herself out of bed and polish off a double Scotch. She relaxed in the tub for another hour with a fresh drink. Still wet from her tub, she straightened out the curtains and set the lighting for the living room. The air-conditioning chilled her skin, making her heart beat faster.

By three o'clock, Joyce was ready for her son. Sitting on the sofa, she waited. Her legs crossed, she toyed with one of her shoes. Letting it hang from the tips of her toes, she rocked it back and forth. When she heard Billy's key in the door, the shoe fell to the floor.

When Joyce bent forward to find her shoe, she knew she was smashed. She lost her balance and almost fell over before slipping her foot back into the slipper. It was quite a struggle, but she was finally able to straighten herself upright in the low-slung sofa.

As Billy opened the door, Joyce watched the sunlight illuminating the room. But the boy didn't see his mother in the light. His eyes were adjusting to the indoors.

Billy let the door slam behind him as he dropped his books onto a table beside the door. It took a few moments for Billy to realize that the room was almost dark. Then he inhaled the strong scent of her perfume. When he looked over to the sofa, his gaze met the wide, inviting grin of his drunk mother.

"Hi, honey!" Joyce called out, taking a last gulp from her glass. "Hot outside, baby?" she asked.

Billy couldn't believe the sight before him. His mother was sprawled out across the couch, half-naked. She was the image of his nightly dreams about her. As he stood trying to answer her dumb question, he felt his cock getting as hard as a rock.

"Yeah, Mom. Yeah," Billy said, inching slowly toward her. "It must be close to a hundred out there."

"It's nice and cool in here," Joyce said, holding her glass out to him and rattling the ice cubes in it. "Come sit down," she said, patting the sofa beside her.

"Maybe I could get you another drink, Mom?" Billy innocently asked as he stepped forward to take his mother's drained glass. "What are you drinking?"

It was Joyce's turn to be shocked, and it gave her a good laugh. She had been right thinking that he was fucking around. Her son knew just how to get a horny cunt into the sack. She could see that he inherited more than just good looks from his hard-fucking old man.

"Make it Scotch, sweetheart," she answered, handing over her glass. "And you might as well fix yourself a drink. I've noticed the vodka's been tasting a little watery lately."

Billy was caught off base for a moment. He thought that he had been getting away with the occasional shots that he sneaked when his mother wasn't looking. He was afraid that she was angry, until he was calmed down by her warm, enticing smile. It was more than obvious that she didn't give a shit about his secret drinking. As a matter of fact, she seemed a little proud of his adult behavior.

Swaggering boldly, Billy took the glass from Joyce's hand and headed for the well-stocked bar at one end of the huge room. The sight of her half-naked body and the sweet smell of her erotic perfume sent chills racing up the boy's spine. He could feel his prick stiffening between his legs.