Rex Taylor: Mother lover

something you might be sorry for later."

"What's to be sorry?" she wondered, kicking away the sheet that covered them. "Besides-you'll like it. I'm good. Ask Chris. I bet Gwen didn't tell you that she caught us today. Did she tell you? We were on my bed and I was on hands and knees while Chris put his prick into me from behind. I really liked that-I'd never screwed that way before. We could do that, if you want to. I'll do anything.

"No, no, no," he said, over and over, trying to shut his ears against the silkily erotic insistence of her voice. She was tantalizing and provocative, and he could smell the young-girl fragrance of her, mixed as it was with the warm lush aroma of her cunt, and he knew now why it was that Chris had fallen so hard for this wanton teenager.

Her lips traveled down his neck, across his chest. She sucked at his nipples until they were stiff and hard, and then she dragged her wet mouth across his stomach, making a beeline for the lance-like thrust of his cock.

"We can't," he said weakly. "We can't. You don't understand. You're-" and, he was on the verge of telling her the truth right then, that she was his daughter and Chris' sister, bound by the tie of blood and kinship even if she didn't know it, but somehow he couldn't. Much as he wanted to tell her, much as he wanted to take her in his arms and call her daughter, much as she needed to know the truth-still, it was Gwen's duty, not his. He was torn between his obligations to his child and his reaction to the erotic stimulation his child was providing him at that moment.

"I know what you're trying to say," Cathy said quickly, "that I'm Chris' girl and that I shouldn't be doing this wit you. Well, so what? Chris owes me one for what he did to me at the party last

night-screwing that damned Penny while I had to stand watching-and besides, I've been turned on by you ever since I saw your picture. You're such a peat-looking man, you know?

"And we're here together in a motel room, aren't we? And didn't you fib to the desk clerk when you registered? Huh? And nobody will ever know. If Gwen didn't trust you, she'd never have sent you to hunt me down, so she's not gonna accuse you of trying to make me. And I'm not going to tell anybody, for Christ's sake. I'm horny and so are you, if that cute thing-" She dipped her head and planted a kiss right on his cocktip- "is any indication. So let's get with it, Mr. Chris Robinson's daddy. What do you say?"

The touch of her lips so briefly upon his dick had been a totally unnerving experience as far as Don was concerned. It was like standing with wet feet while sticking his finger into a hot socket and, though premature ejaculation had absolutely never been a problem with him, for a hesitating instant Don wondered if he were not about to geyser his cream into the air to splash searingly upon the mom's ceiling. The almost irresistible urge passed him by, leaving behind only a tightness of feeling in his balls, and it was then that Cathy bent her head and began to suck at his dong.

Oh, God, he thought, she is good! A girl had to be born with the gift of sucking cocks that well; it was nothing that could be learned from any teacher. The action of her hands, her lips, her teeth, her tongue, her cheeks-it was all perfect in its application, its coordination. He closed his eyes and let his body get into tune with her blow job.

He felt like a pervert, lying there in a darkened room while his own daughter licked and sucked his pecker, and he felt like a bastard for letting her do it. But he couldn't stop her. He'd tried, and

nothing short of physical violence, which he could not allow himself to use, would have diverted her from her intention of seducing her boyfriend's father. Tomorrow, when she knew the truth, what would happen? Would she scream, cry, denounce him to Gwen? He hoped she would do nothing more extreme than the last, hoped she would understand that it was at least partially her own fault.

His ass moved heavily as her sucking became intense, inspired. Of their own accord Don's hands went down to tease and touch her hair as Cathy slurped away at this bedtime snack. His eyes were still closed, and there was a shocking sensation that seemed to burn like wildfire along his spine as he realized that he was using his voice to encourage her at her work, that he was saying, "Yes, Cathy, suck it for me, oh, nice, nice. I like the way you do that. More with the tongue, you hot little bitch!"

And it was then that Don came to understand fully what was afoot. She was his daughter, yes. He had, some seventeen years ago, planted the seed of Cathy in Gwen Corby's hot, sucking cunt. But it was only biological. He had never been a father to the girl in any ethical or moral sense. She was, to him, a stranger, a sexy teenaged stranger with whom he was at the moment sharing a bed. That was all. He was no more her real father than she was or could ever be his real and true daughter.

With the awareness came a new sense of freedom to his body. It was all fight. He was doing nothing wrong, nothing at all. There was no shame, no stigma in responding to the fantastically gifted oral caresses this young girl was doling out, and he began to respond thrillingly. His hands grew tight upon Cathy's head and he moved his body, and now she was on her side and he was seizing control of the situation, fucking her eager mouth with his

hot, throbbing prick. She made her lips a tight, sucking ring and allowed him to have his way with her, taking with delight the ever-harder stabs of his big, thick prick.

Only the constant salivation of Cathy's mouth prevented her lips from igniting spontaneously with the friction of his rapid in-out, in-out thrusts. She swallowed his rod happily on each thrust, feeling his cock grow bigger, stiffer, wetter each time he fed it to her anew, and she wondered idly if he intended to let her suck him to completion.

She soon found out. Don's cock slipped free of her mouth on one backstroke and, though she lunged for it with snapping lips and flipping tongue, his reddened tool eluded her.

"You like it dog-style," he grunted, "so get on your knees."

"Out of sight!" Cathy giggled, and she hurried to obey him, her body swaying as she got into position and awaited his penetration.

Don knelt behind her, steadying his body for a moment with his palms resting on her hot young ass, and then he took his pecker in hand and slammed it into her hole as hard as he could.

Cathy bucked forward, screaming, "OH, JESUS!!" as her wet cunt made room for the full entry of Don's prick. His cock was perhaps a bit larger than his son's, or so it seemed, but his meat presented no problems to Cathy's resilient snatch. The elastic lips yielded and then formed tight around the invading organ, and she began to work her ass in counterpoint to the dynamic flicking Don was giving her.

Her hips rolled and twisted, putting almost unendurable strains and stresses upon his dick, the subtle working of her snatch muscles tempting him to relinquish his self-control and let his cum fly, but Don fought the temptation. She was young

and tight-he hadn't banged a girl this young since his own teenage days-and he'd forgotten how sweet and snug a eighteen-year-old cunt could really be. Old memories returned to him, of young girls with apple cheeks and rosy lips, with tight high boobs and tight juicy twats, and it seemed that twenty years of his own life had rolled away in a twinkling. This, he knew, this was what drove his son wild about Cathy, and it was driving him wild as well.

He wanted to fuck her all night, to shoot his jism into her cunt, to force his cock stiff once more for a fresh bout, and on and on in that manner until the sun rose over the blue Atlantic to eastward. He could do it, he was sure, but he would be a wreck tomorrow and tomorrow was the day in which all the chickens came home to roost.