Rex Taylor: Mother lover

Well, he thought, tomorrow was tomorrow, and he couldn't do anything about that. Right now he was fucking the buns off a girl young enough to be his daughter-a girl who was indeed his daughter, or would be tomorrow, when she knew the truth. Tonight was another story and he intended to make the most of it.

Cathy's head and shoulders sank onto the bed, but she kept her ass high and her pussy full of Don's prick. She sighed and she sobbed, she moaned and she murmured, and she continued to give him a response worthy of a five-hundred-dollar call girl. Oh, yes, he told himself, this bitch-and he meant the imprecation affectionately-was born to be fucked. Born to be fucked.

He threw his head back and sighed a groaning sigh through his clenched teeth. The pressure upon his balls was absolutely incredible at this moment! He remembered his teenage days, the evenings spent in hours-long petting sessions with some

eighteen-year-old virginal flower, the type who allowed anything as long as it was above the waist, and he remembered how, after those hours of fruitless fondling, his cock would thrust out in a steel-rail hard-on and his balls turn blue with frustration. And he felt almost the same way right now, as his body screamed to him to let go, to flood Cathy's box with his fuck juice.

Sanity exercised some hold upon him, even m the frenzy of that longing. Cathy was shaking and twisting with her own orgasm now, mouthing obscenities of the tenderest sort, and he could not bear to hold out another minute. Quickly he extracted his cock from the rippling maw of her snatch and he fought the young girl onto her back.

She lay writhing, her eyes fuzzy, out of alignment, as he knelt astride her boobs. Don took his cock in hand and pressed it once more against her lips. Everything that had happened in the last few days could be traced back to that evening in 1958 when he had accidentally impregnated Gwen Corby, and he didn't mean to tempt fate twice in a row, particularly when the girl involved this time was his own child. He didn't know whether she'd taken any precautions, so Don resolved to do his duty regardless.

Cathy's quivering lips parted, and Don's mighty dong slid into her mouth, carpeted by her pink tongue. She made a tight 0 of her lips and began to suck his rod voraciously, in the process coating her inner mouth with the accumulated wetness of her pussy that had clung to his cock from their fuck.

Her tongue flipped his knobby glans and her lips and teeth wobbled upon his prick shaft. Don groaned loud and tried to hold himself upright, to keep from doing as he wished and plunging his dick fully into her throat. She was at a terrible angle for sucking, and when his load jolted into her mouth, she found that she could not swallow much of it. Her throat muscles ached from the strain as she drank his sperm down, and her hands came up to scoop at the cream which spilled abundantly from the corners of her gulping mouth.

His cock slipped out, still squirting, and Cathy took his sperm willingly on her face. When she had momentarily ingested all that was in her mouth, she began to lick at her lips and fingers, showing him dramatically how much she had enjoyed sucking his cock.

Don took his sopping prick in hand, shucking on it to clear himself of any, leftover cum, and in the process he managed to drain his sperm sac completely. When the last pearly drops had bubbled forth from his slitted tip, Cathy grabbed his dick and licked it clean, smacking her juicy lips as she savored the final remnants of the cream cocktail he had mixed especially for her.

And then she lay back on the bed, pursing her lips, pinning him with her eyes, and he rolled into her arms, his mouth seeking hers as avidly as his hand sought and cupped her firm tits, as avidly as his leg thrust itself between her thighs to press lovingly at the wet and furry mound of her cunt.

"Now we're even," she whispered, and Don looked at her strangely. "Me and Chris, I mean," she explained. He wasn't sure what she meant, but he didn't care either-all he wished to do at that moment was place another kiss upon the wet and sensual softness of her pink-lipped mouth.

The morning sunbeams knifed through Gwen's kitchen window to make a blinding glare upon the polished surface of her tea kettle. She stirred her coffee and looked at Don where he sat facing her across the table. It was safe to speak-she'd lent her Volks to Chris and Cathy, and they had gone for a drive.

"I've been thinking," she began, at precisely the same moment Don's lips gave vent to the very same words. They laughed benignly, and she surrendered the floor to him.

"I wonder if things haven't gone too far already," he said. "With the kids, that is. What's going to happen to them when they find out they're really brother and sister? That worries me very much."

Gwen nodded, recalling last night with Chris, her mind conjuring up the image of that frenetic first fuck, of the exploratory second, of the totally incredible third. "Yes," she agreed. "It could be unbearably traumatic."

Don was taken aback by Gwen's easy acquiescence and so relieved that he failed to notice the odd smile on her face. "You know," he said, "I was up most of last night thinking about this," and he winced at the unforgivably Freudian word-play he had made. But it was true. Cathy had

been literally insatiable, and he felt tired as hell this morning, but a hundred thou wouldn't have bought that sense of exhaustion from him.

"We have only one option," Gwen pointed out. "We have to let this ride. The alternative is unthinkable. Cathy and I will be here another week before we go on to Georgetown. She's on the Pill, so there's no danger of pregnancy, and, if it's all right with you, I'm willing to look the other way while she and Chris do whatever they want."

"I don't see any other way," he concurred. "Besides, this is only a summer romance, and you know what those are like. A week alter they say good-bye they won't remember each other's names. So," he added, "at last we find something that we can agree on."

"That's a new one, isn't it?" She got up to freshen her coffee and Don followed. When Gwen turned, the coffee cup in her hands, Don reached to cup her unholstered tits where they rested inside her scarf halter. She frowned. "Don't," she told him.

"You're as beautiful as ever," he said. "And I used to play with them all the time."

"You signed away your right to do that when you made your X on the divorce papers," she pointed out.

He let go of her tits, and she went back to the table. Don leaned against the stove watching her. "I had thought that maybe-"

"That maybe we might take advantage of this and do some reuniting of our own? Not a chance! I told you a long time ago-the day you took me to catch the Reno plane-that I never wanted anything to do with you again, Don. I meant it then and I mean it now. You haven't changed a bit, you know. You're still as cocky as ever, so convinced of your own sexiness that you think I'd

flop into bed with you at the drop of a hat."

He smiled. "You haven't changed much either, Gwen. Sometimes I hate you and sometimes I love you. Right now I don't know which." Don shook his head. "Did it ever occur to you that we wouldn't be in this situation at all today if you'd sucked me off on our first date instead of spreading your legs in my backseat and letting me pop your cherry?"

He thought for a moment that she was going to throw her coffee cup at him but she didn't. "You bastard," she said, and then Gwen got to her feet. She went to him slowly and their hands touched. "Maybe," she said, "as long as we're more or less forced into each other's company.

"For old times' sake?" he suggested.

"For old times' sake," she said. "Maybe."

And so the sticky situation of Robinson and Corby was resolved. Neither Don nor Gwen felt any real guilt about what they had done with their children the night before, but they agreed that it was better for Chris and Cathy never to know the truth.