Editor's note: this submission contains scenes of incest or incest content.
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Who doesn't like Thanksgiving? Only Americans could have come up with a holiday devoted basically to gluttony. Turkey, stuffing, gravy, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, pumpkin pie, and so much more—it was a day when all diets were off, and you just ate and ate and ate until you could eat no more.
Of course, there's also the pleasure—if it can be called that—of having family members, from parents to grandparents to aunts and uncles and cousins and everything in between, gather together for the feast. It didn't matter whether, in the ordinary course of events, you actually got along with all these relatives; on Thanksgiving Day you would at least make the pretense that you did.
Myra Jenkins enjoyed both of these aspects of Thanksgiving: food and family. For years she had summoned relatives from both sides of the family—hers and her husband Dennis's—to come over to their spacious house for the feast. In all honesty, she liked preparing the feast more than eating it—but she always glowed with pride when everyone else ate their fill and showered her with compliments.
She was forty-five years old, but looked ten years younger. And, if she did say so herself, she was quite a knockout. Truth be told, she thought her breasts in particular—large, round, and still firm even after two children had been suckled on them—were spectacular. That's why she wore a expensive white cashmere sweater while cooking: it showed off her bust splendidly, and the eager looks she—or, rather, her chest—received from the various males in the house convinced her that she had made the right decision in putting it on.
But it ended up causing her some unexpected problems.
As the dozen or more guests chatted away in the living room, Myra was puttering in the kitchen. There wasn't all that much more to do, since she had prepared many of the dishes earlier that day. But the turkey would take another hour or so to cook, so she decided to spend the time profitably by doing a little bit of advance cleaning up at the kitchen sink. And that's how she got into trouble.
Her hands soapy with dishwashing liquid, she suddenly noticed that her wedding ring had slipped off her finger—and as she heard it clattering down the drain, she was horrified at the thought that it had fallen into the garbage disposal. The thing wasn't turned on, of course, so there was no chance of the ring being ground up; but she definitely faced a delicate task in rescuing it. Reaching down the narrow drain, she thought she'd found the ring in the midst of the sharp, jagged teeth of the garbage disposal—but as she was about to pull the ring out, she found that she was stuck.
In fact, the cuff of her cashmere sweater had caught on one of those teeth.
Rolling her eyes, she thought:
Can anything be more absurd?
She didn't want to yank her arm out of the drain, for fear of tearing the fabric and essentially ruining the sweater. And she wondered whether she could even slip her other hand down the drain to release the cuff. It was going to be a tricky operation.
It was at this point that her twenty-two-year-old son, Jerad, sauntered into the kitchen.
Jerad, perennially hungry as he was, was looking for a little snack to tide himself over until the actual meal was served. When he saw his mom with her hand apparently stuck in the kitchen sink, he chortled.
"What's up, Mom? What are you doing?"
"Never mind that," Myra said sharply. "Just help me get my sleeve out of this thing."
Jerad approached her and peered at the drain. The matter was instantly clarified. But he made no effort to help his mom extricate herself.
You see, Jerad had an insatiable fascination with women's backsides. From the sloping shoulders to the arching back to the curvy bottom (especially the bottom!) to the back of the thighs and calves, this part of a woman's anatomy was to Jerad the pinnacle of female beauty. And he had long been aware that his mother had one of the loveliest backsides he'd ever seen.
And now he was gazing at that backside as she was stuck fast in the drain.
"Come on, Jerad!" Myra snapped. "Help me!"
But Jerad only smiled to himself. Continuing to gaze fixedly at his mother's posterior, he reached out and took hold of her hips. Then he pulled down her skirt to the floor.
Myra had been wearing only a thin wraparound skirt, since she knew the kitchen would be warm. When she realized what her son had done, she squawked: "What on earth are you doing, you little brat?"
That kind of language might have intimidated Jerad years ago, when he was a kid; but now that he was an adult, and a lot bigger and stronger than his mom, it had little effect. But even Jerad now paused as he saw his mother now bottomless except for some thin cotton panties covering her.
Do I really have the balls to pull those down and expose my mom's derrière to my sight?
Yes, he did. In a trice he had peeled off her panties to her ankles, where they joined her skirt.
"Oh, you son of a bitch!" Myra spat. "You're going to get the spanking of your life for this!"
Jerad only chuckled. The idea of his mother—all of five foot six—trying to place a guy nearly six feet tall over her knee was laughable. The only question now remaining was whether Jerad would go the extra mile and do what he intended to do.
Even he—who'd graduated from college last summer and had taken pride in bedding down dozens of coeds in his four years there—was a tad intimidated at probing the innermost recesses of his own mother. And with all these people here too! But the funny thing was that the presence of those people actually helped him in his obscene endeavor: they were all yakking in the living room, quite a distance away; but Myra would have to remain quiet, lest she bring shame on the family by having all her relatives witness her son—
With a smirk, Jerad squeezed out some dishwashing liquid—the very substance that had, in a way, caused Myra's predicament—onto his fingers. Then he applied to Myra's anus.
When she realized what her own son was about to do with her, she was almost struck dumb with appalled horror. But she managed to hiss at him: "Don't you dare go back there, buster, if you know what's good for you!"
He'd done this a fair number times with other girls—but this was his mom we're talking about! He unzipped his fly and brought out his cock, which was already hard from the sight of that lovely bare ass. He had to scrunch down a bit to reach the chosen orifice, but it was only a matter of moments before he stuck it in there almost to the hilt.
Myra let out a huge gasp: she'd never let anyone do this to her before, even though any number of candidates—including her husband of many years—had begged her to. She never thought that the product of her own womb would be the first to enter that dark cavity. As she sensed his long, thick cock tunneling into her, she fell into a kind of brain freeze, hardly noticing Jerad reaching around her to grab her breasts and giving them a good squeeze. Of course, those luscious globes were covered with her bra and the sweater, but Jerad still got a good feel of them.
This had been going on for some minutes when Dennis—Myra's husband and Jerad's father—walked into the kitchen through the swinging doors that separated it from the dining room.
He stopped short as he saw his son goring his own mother through the back way. He pondered the situation like a professor examining a complex mathematical formula on a chalkboard. But in fact, it didn't take him long to figure out what was going on.
He walked calmly over to the thrashing pair, reached down into the drain and carefully detached the sweater from the tooth it was stuck on, and released the poor woman.
But, as Jerad was heedlessly continuing to pound away at his mom's bottom, Dennis blandly removed the sweater from over his wife's head. Jerad, catching on, unfastened the clasps of her bra, and Dennis pulled it off.
Now Myra was completely naked, except for the skirt and panties covering her feet. As she watched open-mouthed, Dennis unzipped his pants, took out his cock, and shoved it into her pussy.
