Cummin' Home for Christmas

Cummin' Home for Christmas

by rmdexter

The following is a work of fiction. The resemblance to any persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

No matter how hard he tried, Hunter couldn't get the image of her out of his head. He knew he was only fooling himself, having tried to purge himself of those thoughts for years now, but to no avail. He knew in his gut, and in his heart, that it wasn't going to happen—not now, not ever.

Flicking the turn signal to the right, he accelerated around the curving on-ramp until he merged into the traffic streaming south onto interstate 405, the multi-lane highway taking him on a straight shot south from LA to home, to San Diego. He was surprised there was this much traffic but, then again, it was Christmas Eve.

Where are all you fuckers going?

Hunter thought to himself as he checked his mirror and moved into the next lane, his foot pressing down on the accelerator. He was ahead of schedule, but he still liked to press it a bit on the interstate, loving the feel of the powerful engine of his re-tooled '73 Mustang beneath him. Everybody else was running over the speed limit, so he didn't feel too guilty being one of the pack, for now anyway. If the traffic ever thinned out and he had a chance at some clear sailing, he'd let the Mustang stretch her legs for a bit, make up a little time.

Yes, if he did that, he was going to be home that much earlier than he'd told his mother. When he'd last spoken with her a few days ago, he told her he'd be leaving Stanford first thing in the morning on Christmas Eve. He'd been stuck at school working to get ahead on next semester's major project, while awaiting an important interview. While most of his classmates in the architecture program had cleared out, Hunter had reluctantly stayed behind. He'd been trying to set up an interview for a possible interning job for the next term, and the main partner in the leading architectural firm in the area could only meet with him late in the afternoon of the 23

rd

. That kind of fucked up his plans to get home early for Christmas, but what the hell could he do. He wanted that interning job bad. People would give their eye teeth to get a position with that firm.

He was thrilled when just the day before, the partner's assistant called and asked if he was able to come first thing in the morning on the 23

rd

instead of late in the day. It ended up the partner wanted to get away for the Christmas break just as badly. So Hunter had hopped on it.

He showed up in his best suit, portfolio under his arm and flash drive in his pocket. The interview had gone better than he'd expected, especially after he and the interviewing partner found out they were both Steelers fans. Living on the west coast, it certainly wasn't every day that you ran into a fellow waver of the 'Terrible Towels'. The guy was impressed by Hunter's sketches and design drawings. Hunter left the interview feeling optimistic. He knew the partner wouldn't be able to promise him anything on the spot, but that the wink the man gave him when they shook hands told Hunter what he needed to know. He felt like he was walking on air when he left the building.

The timing had worked out great. Rather than face the gruelling eight hour drive the next day, he decided to break it in two. He had a good friend in LA who could put him up for the night, and then make the final dash home the next morning.

He'd called Rob, who was only too anxious to see his buddy. Hunter packed his things for the break, including what he now called his 'lucky suit', the trim-fitting navy one he'd worn for the interview. He knew he'd need it. It had become a family tradition to get dressed up and go out for a fancy dinner on Christmas Eve, something his mother loved to do. So, off he went to Rob's in Los Angeles, the Mustang purring like a kitten the whole way. They spent the night watching some sports on TV, scarfing down some pizza, and quaffing a couple of ales. Hunter stopped at two, not being a big drinker by nature, and wanting to make sure he wasn't hung over the next day. He was anxious to get home early and surprise his mother, and make the whole day perfect for her.

And that's who he'd been thinking about as he'd pulled onto the interstate—his mother—his drop dead gorgeous, smoking hot mother, Tara. Yes, he tried to get those lurid thoughts of her out of his head, as he always did, but it was useless to even try. He knew there was no way he could ever look at her without thinking of putting her on her back, her legs in the air and spread wide to each side, the succulent peach of her pussy dripping with her running juices as he fed inch after inch of his rock-hard cock deep into her.

See,

he thought to himself,

there you go again.

His cock was stiffening beneath his jeans, and as if by osmosis, the blood seemed to flow right down his leg to his foot, causing him to speed up even more. He mentally forced himself to slow down, knowing the cops would be only too happy to slap a speeding ticket on a young guy in a nice car. And he didn't want to show up at home with that under his belt.

Speaking of under his belt, as he forced himself to slow down a bit, he reached down to the inside of his pant leg and adjusted his semi-rigid prick, trying to make things a bit more comfortable down there. When you were blessed with a cock the size of Hunter's, comfort didn't come easy when you were packing something that would extend to close to eleven inches when fully erect, not to mention the pair of lemon-sized balls full of spunk dangling between his legs.

He was anxious to get home and hopefully relieve some of the tension he was feeling down in those boys. He'd been working feverishly on his schoolwork, with not a lot of playtime, or successful playtime anyway. Hunter was a handsome young man, a couple of inches over six feet tall with a body that was well-toned from swimming and working out regularly. His shock of wavy dark hair, pronounced cheekbones, full sensuous lips, and steel-gray eyes made many girls' hearts flutter. And not just girls, women too found him compellingly attractive.

Hunter was by no means a virgin, having bedded a number of girls, well, women mostly. The trouble was that slumbering monster lying between his legs. Most girls his own age--although word about his prodigious endowment got around school years ago and piqued the curiosity of many—absolutely shrunk in fear once they actually saw it. Yes, they were always interested at first, but once they had his pants undone and that rearing cobra sprang up ready for action, well, most of the time all he ended up getting was a handjob, or maybe a bit of head. Most girls had a hard time just spreading their jaws open far enough to fit his blunt-ended weapon into their mouths, let alone know what to do with it once they got it there.

No, that's why Hunter had been much more successful with older women—women his mother's age. Most women that age knew how to handle a big cock, or at least they were willing to give it all they had trying. Like his Urban Planning professor he had this year. She'd told him she'd just turned 50, thirty years older than him. But he didn't mind; those big tits, juicy pussy, and hot sucking lips of hers made for a pleasant weekend while her husband was out of town. They'd hooked up a few more times over the last term, whenever her husband had to travel, or just when she was so horny that she had to rent a hotel room for the day. Hunter was thrilled that she was always eager to take as many loads as he could give her, in all three of her hot slippery holes. Each one of their illicit rendezvous ended up with her walking like a cowboy for a week, with each needy orifice dripping with cum.

Hunter thought she was much like Mrs. Sutton that way. Jean Sutton, one of his mother's best friends who lived just a few doors down the street. She went by 'Jean', but Hunter always thought of her as 'Mrs. Sutton', ever since she took his virginity a few years back. He was often over there after that, supposedly doing chores, while in reality Mrs. Sutton would usually be face down on her marital bed while her husband was at work or out golfing, Hunter's massive cock thrusting deep into her steaming bowels—her orifice of choice for a good hard fucking.

Those were just two of the many older women who Hunter had bedded, burying his long thick pipe deep inside their willing trenches. And with the way his itchy balls felt right now, full and needing to be drained, he was looking forward to seeing Mrs. Sutton at least a few times over the holidays, if not some of the other MILFs he'd regularly fucked when he'd lived at home.

But none of them, not a single one, no matter how pretty, how sexy, how willing—not one of them could hold a candle to his mother. Hunter couldn't get over how incredibly beautiful she was, and how sexier she seemed to get as she got older. At 42 years of age, his mother Tara was definitely in her prime. She was of medium height, with a curvy hourglass figure that drew any man's eyes like a magnet. Those wide motherly hips and big round ass were something that dreams were made of, a backside you could picture bouncing on a bed all night long, but it was that spectacular set of voluminous breasts that made most men do a double-take. Hunter had been raiding his mother's laundry basket for years now, using her soiled panties and bras to fuel his jerkoff fantasies. It set his libido on fire every time he laid out one of her sexy bras on his bed and whipped out his cock, his eyes always searching out the tiny little label, the blood flowing right to his midsection as he focused on the size: 34F. Yes, they were that fucking big, and even though his mother needed substantial underwire support in those garments, she always seemed to find sexy satin and lace ones in a myriad of colors. Those bras and matching panties were quick to set Hunter's teeth on edge as he pumped out load after load while running his fingers over the sexy garments, or holding them pressed to his face, breathing in his mother's intoxicating scent.

Combine that killer body with the glamorous face of a movie star, with fiery sapphire-blue eyes and long, honey-blonde hair that framed her face like an angel, well, Hunter couldn't think of any woman more attractive, more glamorous, or cock-hardeningly sexy. Yes, his mother Tara was the woman who was front and centre in every fantasy he had. He couldn't even count the number of times he'd jerked off thinking about driving his huge cock deep into all three of her hot mature holes, filling her with load after load of cum until the stuff was just running out of her, her pretty face and massive breasts absolutely swimming with a shimmering coating of jizz. No others could ever take her place.

As the Mustang ate up the miles on the interstate, Hunter found his stiffening prick needed adjusting again, those thoughts of his mother making that slumbering cock try to stand up and salute. He couldn't wait to see her again, if only just to bask in her beauty, which he figured was as good as it was ever going to get. Sadly, that was all he could do, as much as he wished for more.

He reached down and cranked up the radio, trying to take his mind of those lurid fantasies, which he knew were always lurking in his perverted brain, as much as he tried to subdue them. With the window open and the warm California air flowing over him like a comforting cloak, he pressed on the accelerator, anxious to get home.

*

A few minutes before noon, Hunter swung his car into the driveway and shut it down. The midday sun lit up the house, a large two-storey Mission-style home in an upscale neighbourhood. His father had done well as an executive in the aerospace industry, and the family lived quite a comfortable existence, as did all the residents in this somewhat elite neighbourhood.

Hunter quietly closed the door to the car and used his key to open the front door as softly as he could, wanting to surprise his mother with his early arrival. He was surprised to hear nothing after entering the house. He had expected the sound of the usual Christmas carols that his mother liked to play at this time of year resonating throughout the house. But there was no sound at all; everything was quiet as a tomb. He made his way through the kitchen and opened the door to the garage.

Hmm, I wonder what's going on?

he asked himself after spotting both of his parents' cars in their usual spots. He'd expected that his father's car might not be there, but with both cars sitting there, he wondered where his mother was. Returning to the house, he was just about to check the back yard to see if she was out by the pool. As he moved towards the large set of patio doors, he heard a low moaning sound from above. He stopped in his tracks, his eyes racing up the curving staircase to the second floor.

"Ohhnnn..." Another soft groan followed, the muffled sound drifting down the staircase. He could tell instinctively that it wasn't a moan of pain, that much he could tell right away. He'd been with enough women in his life to know what that sound was all about. Were his parents upstairs making love? No, they couldn't be. He knew from his phone call earlier in the week that his father had gone to Boston for a few days for a business meeting. He wasn't due home until later this afternoon as well. As another moan filtered down from above, Hunter's mind started racing...did his mother have a lover? He shook that off, knowing his mind was playing tricks on him. He couldn't see it. The logical answer was that either his father had come home early, or...or his mother was up there on her own. And he knew what that meant.

With his curiosity piqued, he slowly made his way up the stairs and crept closer to her room. He saw that the large pair of French doors was partially open, just a few inches, but he could clearly hear another moan and erotic whimper come from inside the room. He stood against the closed door and edged over towards the opening. He was just about to peer around when he stopped dead in his tracks, his mother's words clear as a bell from inside the room, "Oh Hunter, you're so big...so fucking big."

Shocked at hearing his own name, he was initially frightened at the thought of looking at what he might see inside that room. Did his mother have a lover with the same name as him? Steeling himself at the thought, he had to know. He slid his feet sideways, his eye making its way past the edge of the door.

FUCK ME!

The thought rocketed through his head as the sight before him left him breathless, his heart starting to race in his chest. His mother was lying back on her king-sized bed, the covers pushed down to the bottom. Much to his relief, she was alone. But what she was wearing and doing had his mind racing with excitement. She was lying on her back, her head perched up on a stack of pillows, swirls of lustrous blonde hair splayed out beneath her head. Her legs were spread out wide, one hand between her legs and her other hand cupping one enormous breast. She had on a shiny satin chemise in brilliant white with black lace trim, the white satin so bright as to look almost silver in the sunlight streaming in from the uncovered windows. Triangular pieces of fabric barely covered her sizable breasts, the protruding buds of her erect nipples standing up distinctly, which he could see even from this distance.

Fuck, those nipples are huge,

Hunter thought to himself as his eyes raked down over body. The chemise would have gone down past her pussy, but right now, the lacy edge of the bottom was pushed up near her midsection, leaving her totally exposed to his hungry gaze.

Hunter's eyes zeroed in on the juncture between his mother's splayed thighs. He could see that she was totally clean-shaven, her flushed mound an alluringly vivid pink and glistening with her juices. Even from his vantage point at the door, he could make out the fiery bud of her clit at the apex of her slit, the protruding button almost calling out to him like a beacon. Her pussy looked...in a word...perfect.

But it was what she was doing that really caught Hunter's eye. While she squeezed and fondled one big breast, the other hand between her legs was just as busy, moving a large flesh-colored dildo back and forth.

"That's it baby, that's it," Hunter heard her moan as his eyes flicked instantly back to hers, which were closed tightly, her face a mask of pure wanton lust. "Put it nice and deep in Mommy, nice and deep, give me every last inch."

Hunter's eyes flew wide open for a second time as he drew back to steady himself. He'd just caught his mother masturbating, and now, his ears hadn't deceived him a second time—she was clearly pleasuring herself while thinking about him! He took a deep breath to try and calm his racing heart, but it was hopeless. He had to...he had to see more.

He peered around the corner once again, just in time to see his mother shift up slightly on the bed. As she did, she withdrew the dildo from between her legs, making Hunter almost gasp out loud. His eyes focused in on the lifelike dildo she held in her hand, his breath coming in rapid starts. He'd never seen a dildo like that in his entire life. He'd seen that it was flesh toned, but now he was able to see it in all its glory. It was actually a double-ended dildo made out of a soft rubbery material, but while he'd expected to see a cock-like knob at each end, this one was completely different. One end was formed into the shape of an extremely lifelike hand, with the palm cupped and the thumb and fingers pointing forwards, just like a real hand. The other end was similar, but with the hand closed into a tight fist. Between the two ends was a thick column of beige veiny rubber, the whole thing glistening lewdly with a shiny coating of his mother's warm cunt-honey.

Fuck me,

Hunter said to himself as he looked at the wicked toy. As he watched, his mother shifted her backside about restlessly, tilting her pelvis up and spreading her legs even wider, her knees pulled well up. Hunter looked down at the sweet pink pucker of her rosehole, the tight little aperture seeming to wink at him knowingly. His mother reached down with her other hand and fit the cupped hand with the fingers pointed forward between the slick lips of her dripping cunt. She slid it in slowly, until her fleshy pussy lips closed around the wrist of the buried hand. She then moved her hand down to the other end of the dildo, fitting the shiny closed fist against her bumhole, the whole area glistening with her juices, or lube, or probably both, Hunter thought. She started to press it into herself, wriggling her hips as the rubber fist stretched her tight sphincter almost to the tearing point before it slipped inside. With both ends of the dildo securely inside her, she kept hold of the bent rubber shaft in one hand while her other hand came back to her chest. Hunter watched, mesmerized, as his mother drew one massive breast out of the top of her chemise and brought it to her mouth, her lips clamping down on the stiff nipple.

"Mmmm..." She let out a loud purr as she suckled at the stiff bud, her other hand now moving the dildo in and out of her clutching holes.

Hunter stood there riveted, unable to move even if he wanted to, his cock hard as an iron bar beneath his jeans.

His mother sucked hard at her nipple before releasing it, the pulled pink bud coming out of her mouth with a wet sucking sound. "Oh yeah, that's it, Hunter. Put that big cock of yours deep into Mommy. Any hole you want. Just let me have it all. Fuck me, baby, fuck Mommy good and hard."

Is was all Hunter could do not to come in his pants as he watched the erotic act taking place such a short distance away. His mother was sucking on her other breast now, the first one she'd already worked on now covering the whole of one side of her chest, the reddened nipple she'd teased with her lips glistening with her saliva and pointing right at Hunter. Her arm was moving vigorously between her legs, her feet pressed hard into the mattress as her hips flexed up and down, the two ends of the dildo plundering her seeping holes.