Thank you all for your fabulous comments about my stories on site as well as to me personally, you know who you are. I do hope you realise that these remarks give me just as much heat as I hope I give you all....ty Alex
Oh crap! Not again, thought Carl Bridger pulling the pillow over his head and pulling it tight around his ears.
Only days into this living hell, after his step-father had kicked his mother out of the house after finding her screwing her personal trainer in the marital bed, he knew he had to get out of this mad-house. I mean; what had she been thinking, for fuck's sake! And now here they all were, living the nightmare in Squalor Street.
How embarrassed had he felt as his mother, Pamela Bridger had screamed in the street her pitiful defence from behind a sliding mask of mascara and lies, but it had sounded like bullshit to Carl even as she eventually got off her knees and gave up, eventually piling him and his twin sister Cara into a taxi she sped them to the only place she had to go, her lovers place on what Carl could only describe as waaay across the wrong side of the tracks, an area that only came alive when the sun set, and not a night passed by without a screaming-match from somewhere in the complex of flats across the field, a relief for the ignored car alarms or police sirens that eventually painted a blue and red light-show across the bedroom ceiling and always the smell of burning or weed seeped through the open windows.
And now this, just to put the tin-lid on it, the seemingly endless racket from the insatiable pair in the next room as the bed-head banged against the wall accompanied by desperate, gasping, squeals and screamed orgasms as his mother was sexed for hours by her powerful lover.
So instead of living in a four bedroom detached home in the leafy suburbs, they were in a two-up-two-down terraced house in town that he couldn't get away from soon enough, and would were it not for his sister.
How he remembered.
Giggling feverishly, she had begged him to join her last night, pleading for him to accompany her, support her; she'd said, as she dared sneak a peek after a trip to the bathroom, through what she'd noticed was a thick sliver of light from the bedroom of the lovers.
Carl just thought it was gross, but his sister had ways of making him and most of the other guys he knew do just as she desired.
They both took after their mother, both fair haired, slender, and attractive, Carl had lots of female attention, but as he was horrified to hear from Cara's best friend Madeline, that it was because they saw him more as a gay friend than a horny, testosterone fuelled guy and he cursed all those times he'd agreed to paint their toe-nails as they gossiped about guys, just so he could have a crafty look up their short skirts.
Cara had giggled as he told her what Maddi had said, telling him not to be so silly and put her hair up for her while she blew on the nails that he'd just painted, desperate to get out on her date.
His face burned beneath the pillow as he remembered the other night, as led by the hand by Cara, they had stood outside the door, her hands on his shoulders, her fingers digging painfully into his flesh as they watched their mother cum like a demented demon over and over again, her lover's huge black hands pinning her wrists to the bed as he buried himself into her beneath the single sheet with purposeful, relentless, heavy strokes.
Throughout her session, Pam Bridger looked almost on the point of fainting, Cara had thought, and her heart thumped hard inside her breast as she took in all the details before her, his sweat-shiny back and bad head, massively muscled arms and her mother, similarly glowing, slack-mouthed and helpless as she whimpered under his grunted assault on her pussy, her big tits rolling out of control, until all too soon Cara thought, the hunk growled manically and arched his spine as he bucked and jerked over and over again into the apparently catatonic creamy blonde beneath him.
"Fuck!" gasped Cara as they crept back to their room. "What the fuck was all that!"
"It just looked brutal to me." Said Carl, still shocked as he slipped beneath the covers in the lower bunk bed. Cara had demanded the top.
"Oh come off it, we missed most of the action," she whispered, giggling. "You loved it really."
"No I didn't....." Carl began to argue, until Cara teased:
"Don't say you don't like hetero sex when Maddi and the girls are around.
"I didn't mean that.........." Carl said meekly.
"And he certainly enjoyed it," she giggled again, and reached to waggle his embarrassingly hard dick over the sheets before she kicked off her slippers and slipped off her satin robe.
Try as he might, Carl just couldn't keep his eyes off Cara's body. Her long blonde hair fell half way down her tanned back, past a tiny, lemon camisole top and matching thong panties. Carl was sure she held the pose on purpose, allowing him to feast his eyes on her pert bottom and size 10 curves. She was an inch and a bit shorter than he was at five-five, but when she wore her four and five inch heels she loved to tower over him, saying she was the boss now.
Spinning around quickly, she smiled to herself as she saw his eyes devouring her slinky body. She loved to wind him up, see him colour up after pointing out he was staring at her 34C breasts or bum and now walked to the ladder, pausing for a second to allow his eyes to take in her body before she clambered up onto her bunk.
Carl was burning up, she'd caught him out again, staring at her ass in those little knickers. He'd told his mother that it wasn't right for two eighteen-year-olds to be sharing a single room, but her mother had been whisked off by Bart, for some more 'personal training' before she could answer properly. The last thing he'd heard as she was carried off to bed was, 'blame your father'.
Now he was confronted by Cara standing before the bunk ladder. If he looked up, he saw the soft curves of the underside of her breasts beneath the cami-top, if he looked down, a skimpy thong of see-thru netting revealed the beginnings of her slit before disappearing into the thicker, if slender gusset stained by........oh God no, she was soaked in pussy juices, and worse, her scent was invading his nostrils, and even more so as he fought against the urge to breathe her deeply.
Up she went, eventually, and he watched her legs part as she swung her legs aboard, her panties clinging wetly as she disappeared onto her top bunk. She wasn't the only one wet that night though he admitted to himself, as his hand slid down to the spreading sticky pool of seed in his shorts.
Twenty minutes or thereabouts later the headboard began rattling against the wall again.
