Duncan Fox - Spankin mommy

Carla turned the page and blinked in surprise. The girl was on her knees, leaning over a bed. Between her thighs the dusky lips of her cunt were visible. The girl was reaching back, spreading the cheeks of her ass to reveal the dark pucker of her bung. And the man was aiming the bulbous knob of his prick straight at the bud like tart.

The next picture showed the head of the man's cock nuzzling the tight brownie. In the next, he was penetrating the little asshole, prying the opening wide, so that it was pale and stretched. Then, the shaft of his cock was half swallowed up by the girl's asshole. The final picture, taken from near the floor, looked up between the man's legs, and showed just the base of his cock, all that was outside the girl's ass.

Carla glanced at the expression on the girl's face. She was obviously enjoying the buggering.

Carla's whole body knotted with sexual hunger she studied the gross photograph. Her ass itched, her pussy itched, her insides crawled with lust. Her hands shaking violently, she shoved the magazine back in the envelope and thrust it back into its hiding place. Blindly, slamming the closet door behind her, bouncing off the door frame, she staggered out of Charlie's room.

Once back in her own bedroom, she grabbed the cigar tube, and stared at it. It was insane, but she had to try it, she just had to. Something was driving her on. Her aching, crazy horniness had been increased by the pornographic magazine. Holding the blunt-ended instrument, she studied it as if she were contemplating suicide.

It looked too cold and hard. Biting her lower lip, carrying the deadly tool before her like a religious totem, Carla went into the bathroom. She uncapped the shaft, filled it with blood-warm water, and recapped it. Now the instrument had weight and warmth, and seemed almost alive. Then she found the cold cream, and with two fingers smeared the white paste down from the blunt rounded end of the cigar tube. The warmth of the water softened the cold cream. It formed a sleek, oily, fragrant film on the shining aluminum.

Her entire body tensed like the strings of a harp, Carla went back to the bedroom. Crawling up on the bed, she stretched out on her back. Her feet were toward the mirror again. She spread her legs like a frog's, strained to expose her crotch, and her ass. Then she eased a pillow under her hips. With one pillow under her head, the other under her hips, she was bent in a shallow "U", and could see the crack of her ass with little difficulty.

She spread her asscheeks with her fingers of her left hand. There it was – the dark pucker of her bung! Her hand shook, making the blunt head of the tube waggle wildly as she brought it near the target. She steadied the warm metal with the fingers of her left hand, guided it to the crater of her brownie.

The first delicate touch sent a jolt through Carla, made her whole body jerk. Just that faint, barely perceptible touch felt fantastic. Then she began to press, began to slowly drive the cigar tube into her bung. It wedged the muscle open a little at a time. Every millimeter of dilation increased her pleasure.

Her mouth wide with excitement, Carla slowly buggered herself with the metal cylinder. When her asshole was embracing the shaft of the tool, she drove it up into her bowels. The greasy metal slid smoothly and excitingly up into her butt. Watching in the mirror, she thrust the cigar tube up into her gut.

A soft moan startled her. She froze, then relaxed, realizing it was herself she had heard. She giggled with relief, and felt it clear down in her guts, where the hard shaft was spearing her asshole.

The sensation made her whimper with lust. Her bung spasmed around the brutal invader. She was almost crazy with excitement.

"Oh, God, Chuck, why didn't we ever try this?" she asked her gross reflection. It looked as if the cigar tube was cut off, the way her asshole clenched around it. Her pussy, black-furred, pink-hearted, glared at her in the mirror. She drove one thumb deep into her streaming twat, and felt her already exquisite pleasure increase. She tortured her clit, and writhed madly in the grip of her pleasure.

She slid the tube in and out of her butt, loving the feel of the changing, shifting pressure deep inside her. The smoothness of the tube meant there was almost no friction with the ring of her asshole which she knew somehow was a loss. She pistoned her thumb in her snatch in pallid simulation of a cock.

But it was good. The dual penetration was driving her upwards in an endless series of waves, lifting her to a glittering peak. Closing her eyes, she tried to imagine Chuck was driving his cock into her butt. Her son's features kept intruding, until she was unable to resist his image any longer, and accepted it.

It didn't matter. All that mattered was the pleasure, the growing, swelling tidal wave of pleasure. It would sweep everything else away, the regrets, the loneliness, the fears, the sorrows. She pistoned the tube faster and faster in her asshole. Her thumb stirred the juices in her cunt to a foam. She was approaching the glittering apex. Then she was tumbling down the other side in a welter of pleasure and uncoordinated motions. She was left quivering helplessly in the muscle-wrenching convulsions of her orgasm. Her naked body jerked spastically. She held the cigar tube deep in her ass, her thumb deep in her cunt, and milked her orgasm of every mind-blowing drop of pleasure.

Then, with a soft whimper of relief, she let herself relax, eased her grasp on the cigar tube. Nature took over and she crapped out the hard piston easily.

For a long time Carla lay there, her legs still spread wide. Her body was limp. She felt her juices drying on her pussy. Her asshole was a gentle ache. Finally she dragged herself off the bed, staggered to the bathroom. She washed her hands, emptied and scrubbed the cigar tube. She didn't want to think about what she had just done. She felt too ashamed.

So, instead, she worried about Charlie. Obviously, he knew more than she, did. Which was a shock. She wondered how he had gotten the magazine. Then she remembered that about a month earlier, he had become intensely interested in getting the mail in from the mailbox each day. She had assumed he was waiting for a letter from a girl.

What mattered more than how he had gotten it, though, was what she should do about it. If she said anything, he'd know she had snooped in his room. But, how could she not say something?

She wrestled desperately with the problem. At the same time she was resisting the urge to get the magazine out and look at it some more. Strangely, Chuck's death had not really brought Carla and Charlie closer together. It had given her the urge to protect Charlie, to cling to her remaining family. He, on the other hand, was in the process of fighting for his independence.

Recently, an accommodation of sorts had been reached. Charlie kept her informed of his whereabouts, adhered to the liberal curfew. Carla refrained from prying into his private life, gave him freedom to come and go as he pleased. Outwardly, at least, she trusted him completely.

Reluctantly, she concluded she could say nothing to him. But, unavoidably, she was going to be acutely aware of him as a sexual being. She would have to somehow find out just how far he had actually gone. If he got Ann or some other girl pregnant, it would be a disaster. Obviously, he had to have an outlet for his sexual desires. She would have to help her make sure it was a safe outlet. She wondered how she could manage that. She wondered if Eric Jameson would have any ideas, or if she could mention it in the first place. He had been attentive since Chuck's death. Eric was a widower. Maybe he was having similar problems with his daughter Ellen.

Unfortunately, Carla thought, it would introduce a note of intimacy to her relationship with Eric. And his intentions, politely as he had expressed them, hadn't been exactly honorable in the first place. Her rejection of his proposition hadn't offended him, but she didn't want to rekindle his hopes. That wouldn't be fair to Chuck, after all.