Duncan Fox - Spankin mommy

Charlie opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it abruptly. The front of his robe hung peculiarly as he walked across the room. There were beads of sweat on his forehead when he came back with the hairbrush.

Carla took the brush hesitantly. She considered backing out at the last minute, then shook her head. If she didn't carry through on this, she'd lose control of Charlie completely, and he was all she had. She wished she was wearing something other than a knee-length nightie with nothing underneath it. The thin nylon had ridden halfway up her graceful thighs.

"Face down across my lap," she ordered.

Charlie's robe was standing out more noticeably. He was getting a hard-on! Carla suddenly knew she shouldn't do this, but knew also it was too late to stop.

Charlie knelt beside her on the bed, and lowered himself face down across her lap. His prick poked her in the thigh, then slid down between her legs. It felt like a hard, hot pole. It also felt fantastic.

Carla tried to ignore her son's hard-on, and tightened her grip on the brush. Reaching over with her left hand, she drew the back of his robe up and exposed his muscular buttcheeks. For a moment, she just stared at them, surprised at how pale arid smooth they were. She wondered why she had expected anything else. She remembered that when Charlie was a baby, she had enjoyed smoothing powder over his bottom. Her pussy oozed, and she reminded herself sternly of the purpose of getting her son in this position.

Angry with herself, Carla raised the brush and brought it down much harder than she intended. It cracked sharply against Charlie's ass and she felt him lurch in response.

"Yeow!" Charlie straightened up sharply, and clutched his blistered ass, his cock thrusting out through the front of his robe. Carla was paralyzed by the sight of his monstrous tool, was astonished that her son had become so mature, so huge, so desirable. God! His cock was gorgeous! The shaft was sleek and rigid and pale, the knob a deep rose, and gracefully sculpted like a blunt spear. Her cunt drooled as she stared at his incredible hard-on. Then she felt him looking at her, and yanked her attention back to the matter at hand.

"Bend over!" she ordered sharply. "Or this will just go that much harder for you. The longer this takes me, the more smacks you're going to get!"

Charlie was pouting, but bent forward across her lap. He wasn't lying on her this time.

There was something in his eyes Carla didn't want to see. It made her insides quake.

She dragged his bathrobe up to bare his ass again. It opened completely. Fortunately, she wasn't able to see his cock. She stared at his muscular back. He was on his knees and elbows, and his butt was thrust up boldly.

The side she had struck was a glaring pink. He brought the back of the brush sharply down on the other cheek. The sound rang through the room like a pistol shot.

Charlie sucked in his breath with a hiss as his body tensed with pain. Carla brought the brush down again. The third blow fell where the first one had, and brought a soft moan from Charlie.

The sight of his ass pinking up from the blows, and the months of bottled-up agony and tension and misery since Chuck's death all combined to reduce Carla's inhibitions to rubble. Swinging the brush still harder, she began to lay into Charlie with a vengeance. All her fury and frustration at the unfairness of the world boiled out of her. She whaled away at Charlie's ass. She was pounding him down. Every blow against his flaming butt loosened his resisting muscles. He slid slowly lower on the bed. His elbows and knees slipped farther and farther apart. His dick touched her, slid slowly down between her thighs. She felt a hot, slippery trail on her thigh as his cock burrowed down between her legs.

Carla's lust boiled higher. Her fury with herself and her son overwhelmed her. She rained blows on his ass with blind brutality. Tears blurred her eyes, making it harder and harder to aim. She was aware he was lurching with every stroke of the brush someone was bawling like a wounded calf.

Suddenly the brush slipped and flew out of her hand. It bounced crazily across the room towards the door. Caught unawares, she brought her empty hand down on Charlie's muscular butt with knuckle-bruising force. Suddenly she realized the bawling was coming from Charlie. His ass was scarlet, patterned with the rounded oval of the hairbrush.

"Stop, stop, stop! Please stop!" Charlie begged. His shoulders were shuddering and heaving with pain.

His pain and pleading cut into Carla like a knife, slashed through to her mother love, laid her open. Reaching down, she grasped him by his shoulders and pulled at him, trying to draw him up to comfort him. He came up off her lap and fell into her arms, then bore her down on her back on the bed. As she hugged him to her, he shifted and squirmed to bring his body in line with hers.

His legs wedged between hers. Her nightie rode up to her waist. Suddenly he was between her thighs. His cock found the hot nest of her cunt, and drilled deep into her steaming wet hole. Her hips heaved upward in blind, instinctive response as her cunt was filled with steel-hard cock for the first time in six months.

Still whimpering and crying, Charlie began to hump his cock in his mother's cunt, began pumping his prick in the channel that had given him birth. Carla's body responded with pure animal lust. She didn't care who the cock belonged to, she only cared about the friction against her cunt walls, the cracking of her clitoris between two bony arches. Clutching at the strong, slender body on hers, Carla abandoned herself to the orgasmic pleasure of a real fuck.

She spread her thighs wide, braced her heels on the edge of the bed, and welcomed his deep thrusts into her aching twat. She felt the head of his prick slain into her hole, prod and thrust against the end of her cunt. She bounced her hips on the mattress so hex crotch slammed hard against his and pulverized her clit to a patch of flame. Dragging his robe up to his shoulders, she clawed madly at his back, raked his skin with her nails.

"Awwwyeah! Awwyeah! Awyeah!" she grunted in frantic syncopation to his fucking drives.

Charlie was silent now, just panting heavily as he rammed his prick into her hot sheath. Grabbing his mother's shoulders, he heaved his cock into her seething hole, unaware even of the searing pain in his battered ass. All that existed was the pure animal pleasure of fucking.

"Aw God! Aw God!" Carla wailed. "AAaawww! Uuuuunnnhhh!"

She was coming. She was orgasming. It was like slow-motion films of a hydrogen bomb explosion an expanding fireball that swelled like a balloon until it filled her, overwhelmed her, scattered the blazing embers of her consciousness. And still her son fucked her and fucked her with eager, youthful stamina. The fireball of her orgasm coalesced out of the glittering fragments, proceeded to pulsate in time with the cock pumping in her hole. Her body no longer in the control of her mind, she just lay there, pinned to the bed by Charlie's bulk, and took it and took it and took it.

Having fucked only the night before with Ellen at the beach, Charlie's prick felt half-numb. He could feel the jizz gathering slowly in his groin as he pistoned his cock in the slick sheath of his mother's cunt. Her clinging, rippled walls clutched his thrusting rod. He kept fucking, and felt his coming growing closer and closer. It was like the long, slow ascent to the top of a wild fun-house slide. Finally he was poised precariously at the peak. He teetered there, likely to fall either way, back down the slope he had just climbed, or forward, into a wild, tossing ride of pure pleasure.

Another stroke and his direction was determined. He felt himself stumble forward and plunge over the edge. His balls convulsed and he hosed his mother's cunt with his thick sperm. His body thrashing, milking and spurting, he poured his load into Carla's spasming pussy.