Duncan Fox: Spankin mommy

Charlie did as he was asked. He was fascinated by the sight of the cigar tube sticking out of his mother's butt.

She worked her way around on the bed very carefully, acutely conscious of the shaft filling her butt like a rock-hard lump. Awkwardly, she lifted one leg over Charlie and straddled him. Facing his feet, she reached down under herself and found his stiff prick. She tilted his rod down from his belly until it was aimed up into her crotch. She lowered herself on it, nestled its head in her pussy, and slowly drove it up into her belly. It was a tighter fit than she expected, which puzzled her. Then she realized the cigar tube must be cutting down on the available space.

"Tight," Charlie said curtly.

"Wonderful," Carla moaned. "Oh, Charlie, we're so wicked!"

"Ain't it great?"

Carla had to lean far forward over Charlie's legs. She lifted and his prick slid out of her cunt, almost slipped free of her tight hole. She lowered herself, and drove his cock back up into her twat. It hit the back of her cunt, pinched the thin layer of flesh between her snatch and asshole.

"The tube, Charlie, do the tube."

Charlie reached for the end of the cigar tube, which was still protruding from her shitter, and drew it out, then slid it back in. Through the tissue barrier separating her holes, he felt it with his prick, felt the tube stroke his cock.

"JESUS!" he exploded.

"Oooh, Charlie, it's so good, so good," Carla moaned. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me."

Charlie fucked her. He screwed the cylinder in and out of her asshole as she rose and fell on his throbbing rod. Her cunt walls stroked his rigid pole, built his lust moment by moment. There was direct friction from her twat, and incredible indirect pressure from the cigar tube. Charlie's cum began to flow, began to gather, to ready itself for the final spouting eruption.

For Carla the pleasure was exquisite. She had two wonderful, brutal hard shafts crammed into her, and they were both sliding in and out. Her cunt was ablaze. Her ass was on fire. And the thin wall between them was being stroked and tugged. Carla thought she was going to rip apart right up the middle, and wondered what it would feel like.

Then she began to come. It was a colossal orgasm. It raged through her like a hurricane. She kept bouncing up and down, and the cigar tube kept moving in and out. She kept coming and coming and coming. It was incredible.

Charlie pistoned the tube in her asshole faster and faster. She got the message, and humped on his cock as fast as she could.

He was about to come. He was right on the verge of coming. He began to come. He drove the cigar tube deep into her bowels and almost lost his grip on it. He fountained his jizz into her pulsing cunt. Carla dropped down hard on his jetting prick so the head of it nuzzled the end of her snatch. The shaft of his prick was pinched by the cylinder up her ass. Charlie poured fuck juice into his mother's cunt for a second time that day.

Exhausted, Carla lay forward on her son's bare legs. She felt his prick move inside her flooded snatch. Her ass went into waves and drove the cigar tube out. It was a delicious crapping feeling. Charlie's cock shriveled in her cunt until just the tip was nestled in her pussy. Finally, forgetting the state of her ass, she rolled off him.

"YEOW!" she yelped, arching up off the bed. Her butt felt as it had been dipped in acid. She rolled onto her side quickly.

"You okay, Mom?" Charlie asked, picking up the cigar tube.

"When you give a spanking, you really give a spanking," Carla observed. "I'll have to eat standing up for a week, and sleep on my tummy!"

"I'm…"

"Ah! Don't apologize!"

"I'm sure I won't have to give you a spanking like that again," he finished, changing what he had been about to say.

"Not like that," she agreed fervently. "Maybe a little gentler, right?"

"And I'm sure I'll need one once in a while, too. Uh, Mom?"

"What?"

"What about Eric Jameson? Will you at least give the guy a chance?"

"You think I should?"

"Yeah. He's nice, Mom."

"Think he'd make a good father?" she asked cautiously.

"I think so, Mom," Charlie replied seriously.

"And Ellen would make a good sister, right?" Carla said smiling.

"Some sister!"

"Some son," Carla retorted.

"Some daughter!" Charlie shot back. "Some family," Carla finished.

"Well, Mom?"

Carla thought for a minute. "Why don't we invite them both over for dinner?"

"Just dinner?"

"Mind your manners! There are other things in life besides sex."

"Well, you never can tell what we might serve for dessert!" Charlie joked.

"No, you never can tell," Carla agreed. "But just remember, it might be nothing more than cherry pie."

"No cherries in the group," Charlie punned.

"Get out of here and go take a shower," she ordered, smiling. "But don't get dressed. I can't because of my bottom, so you can't either."

"Seems fair." Humming happily, he left her room.

Carla got to her feet and studied the flaming expanse of her ass in the mirror. Shaking her head, she applied some more ointment, then washed the cigar tube carefully. She looked at it thoughtfully, then set it aside. Maybe an artificial cock won't be needed, if things develop with Eric, she thought to herself. What would two cocks feel like…

Carla wouldn't have believed it was possible to get so uptight about a casual dinner party. She took a deep breath in a vain attempt to ease her nervousness. Then she opened the door for Eric Jameson and his daughter. She eyed him approvingly, and wondered why she had been avoiding him so determinedly. He was handsome. His wavy strawberry blond hair and blue eyes were really quite striking. He was soft spoken, polite, and intensely masculine. Carla's heart fluttered.

"Hi," Charlie greeted Ellen warmly. He noted that she was wearing her white blouse, white short shorts combination again. He wondered if she were wearing any underwear. Anticipation was a hot lump in his guts. It grew steadily as the evening progressed. He kept waiting, and waiting, and waiting for something to happen.

It finally did, as they were eating dessert. Carla was pouring coffee for Eric. Her hand shook, and coffee spilled across the table and into his lap. He leaped up out of his chair with a curse of pain.

"Oh, nooo," Carla moaned as he dabbed ineffectively at the brown splotch on his thigh.

"Me you okay, Daddy?" Ellen asked. "Here, take this." When she reached across the table to hand her father her napkin, her arm upset Charlie's glass of milk. A wave of white liquid poured over his leg. He lurched away from the table. "Damn clumsy women!" he swore.

Eric Jameson shot Charlie a sharp glance. Charlie had said nothing about his relationship with his mother. Eric had the feeling Charlie was trying, subtly, to get him to do something. But what?

"They are clumsy," Eric agreed mildly.

"They ought to be taught to be more careful," Charlie muttered, wiping the milk off his trousers.

Carla and Ellen were watching the men cautiously. They were both holding their breaths.

"They were careless," Eric agreed.

"Very careless. Look at this mess. Look at your pants!"

"I'll pay for the cleaning," Carla said hesitantly.

Ellen remained silent. Her eyes were glittering. She knew where it was all heading, and she wasn't about to stop it.

"What about my pants?" Charlie asked. "Who's going to pay for getting them cleaned?"

Ellen shrugged. "I don't have any money," she said casually. "You can't get blood from a turnip."

Charlie glared at her. "Well, then, maybe it should be taken out of your hide instead."

"That's not a bad idea," Eric Jameson said. "Maybe Carla would prefer that to paying for the cleaning."