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As Edgar Pomeroy, and his eighteen-year-old daughter, Suzanne, started out their Saturday morning by driving in opposite directions from their house while his wife, Bernice, bustled about in the kitchen preparing a warm welcome for Suzanne's former boyfriend, Butch Carlson, eighteen-year-old Charles Womack snoozed naked with his forty-year-old mother, Colleen, in her widow's water-bed. Spooned against her warm bare backside, with his crooked left elbow loosely laid over her ribs, he blissfully breathed softly through the short ash-blonde hairs at her nape. Not so softly, his natural morning wood worked its way between her slightly parted thighs. Like snake-grass poking through an asphalted parking lot, it insistently nudged resolutely until its nose successfully rutted past her outer labia and nuzzled the little bald man trying to sleep in his sheath at her cunny's hairy apex.

In their slumber, neither mother nor son was cognizant of their dream-lovers' identities, but each automatically moved to enhance their pleasure. Colleen rolled in place, as if on an invisible spit, and briefly broke contact before firmly pushing Charles' cock solidly into her needy socket as she soughed, "There, Wally. Yes. Right there."

In his unconscious mind, Charles didn't register his dead dad's name, but he more than registered the appreciation he heard in his sex-angel's tone as his thick stiff tuber slid smoothly into her tight trap. Turning into her embrace and thrusting home, he spun Colleen back onto her back then pushed his pelvis forward another impossible inch. Still asleep, she locked her forearms behind his back and her ankles high above his butt. Moaning as she squeezed her pussy, she awakened just as her boy opened his eyes and spent his wet-dream seeds while the clock-radio buzzed its nine o'clock wake-up call.

"Oh... Charlie! Oh! More?" Colleen voiced her subconscious anguish as she reached up to the waterbed's walnut headboard and snapped off the alarm while she came to terms with having a third dose of sperm-laden semen dumped on her probably fertile womb's doorstep. Despite the expressed concern, however, her Kegels refused to release their imprisoned penis without putting up a fight.

Misunderstanding her words, but taking to heart her tugging twat's massaging message, Charles panted as he answered, "Yeah, Mom... More! And, uhn... more and more and morrrrr!" He couldn't believe that even though he had ejaculated, he was still as hard as a rock and as horny as hell. Lifting his torso from hers, he bowed his back, crushed her full tits in his fists and flexed his jabbing dick against her cunt tunnel's roof.

Colleen arched her back, driving her boobs more harshly into her son's clawing grip. At the same time, she surrendered herself to her ecstasy. Charles' concrete-and-velvet cock graded her G-spot while his clutching fingers twisted her breasts like faucets. She screeched, "YES! Oh God! YES, Charlie! Yes, give me MORE!"

Red-faced, Charles huffed as he energetically rocked his hips and mauled his mother's mountains. She closed her eyes and rolled her head on her pillow while she raked her nails along his spine. Gasping, sensing another surge preparing in his groin, he fell forward, slid his hands beneath her back and bear-hugged her to his heaving chest while he copiously creamed her cervix with burst upon burst of his virile vitality. She cried out, then bit into his shoulder point, as her pent-up passion exceeded her control and continued unabated while she shuddered in his tight embrace.

Exhausted and exhilarated, Charles flopped limply to the mattress onto his left side beside Colleen with his right arm draped across her midriff. She pulled his hand to her left breast and held it to her heart as her breathing settled down and her post-coital glow filled her with well-being. He wheezed into her ear, "When I asked 'Can we do this again? Soon?', I had no idea... Now that I know, I don't want to ever not do it again... does that make sense, Mom? Can I still call you 'Mom'? Even when we're... you know..."

"...fucking," Colleen filled in quietly. "Oh, Charlie... you can always call me 'Mom' because that's what I am." She sighed, then continued, "And when I said 'We'll see', I think I was hoping that you would hear, 'No.' But I don't see how I can say 'no' to you, now."

Turning onto her right side, Colleen kissed the teen sweetly and ran her left fingers through his scrubby towhead brush-cut. As her wedding ring glinted in the morning light, she rationalized in her mind, "Death did us part, Wally, but I can keep you through your grown-up son. And if I'm pregnant, whether by Ford, or by Charlie, it's a Womack in my womb and no Plan B is going to prevent it."

Solidly resolved to her new commitment, Colleen added aloud, "But we mustn't ever let anyone know about this part of our love, Charlie." She looked carefully into his eyes as he nodded his understanding and concurrence, then she went on, "And it's possible that we may have begun a new life in me, which will mean some other level of deception and discretion will have to be devised if that is so. Tell me that you're man enough for that."

Charles solemnly nodded again and assured, "Yeah, Mom. I'm man enough for that, now. Yesterday I was a dweeb, but no more, I guarantee it." Then, he grinned at her and teasingly chastised, "You shouldn't have held my hand there so long, Mom. You've made my boner come back." Pulling her hand, with his, to his crotch, he closed her fingers around his recharged rod and asked, "Do you want to find out if I can cum again?"

Colleen tightened her hand on Charles' chub and smiled as it firmed up noticeably. Stroking it, first to its base and then back to its rosy-purple bulb, she tenderly capped its slit with her thumb and irritated the inner membrane until it oozed a tiny oily bead for her. As she spread the pre-cum globule over the surrounding spongy surface, she watched her son sniff small jerky inhalations and grin from ear to ear. Returning her fist to his fully engorged erection, she twisted her way back to his balls while she asked, coyly, "What about you, Charlie? Do you want Mom to help you find out something about yourself? Would you like to cum again for your mommy? Hmmm?"

"uhnn...huhhnn," Charles gutturally affirmed. Colleen's soft skinned strong fingers were magically amazing. He had jacked off countless times, but it had never once felt like it felt now. She moved her right hand slowly. Deliberate loving squeezes tantalized him beyond thought.

Colleen pushed her son's chest with her left hand as she quietly ordered, "Lay back, Charlie, I'll take it from here." She carefully continued to stroke his iron cock while she cruised his pectorals and toyed her index fingertip in the curly amber hairs hiding his nipples. Her sharp nail on his rubbery pips shot thrills to his balls. He quivered and snorted with each desire-provoking zing.

As Charles submissively flopped, he gazed unseeing up at the bedroom's stippled ceiling. Colleen swiveled, clambered across his supine body and knelt by his right hip, near to her work. "Mmm hmm," she hummed encouragingly. "I think this'll do quite nicely." He groaned as heat raced from his gonads through his gut. She lifted her finger from his chest to his lips, traced them, then gently probed past his teeth and laid it two-knuckles-deep on his tongue as she shushed him, saying, "No, Baby... you don't have to say anything... Mommy can tell what you like. Suck my finger. I'll make you squirmy."

Charles couldn't hear his angel's words for the cotton fuzz in his ears and mind, but the music in her voice filled his soul with wonder. Happily, he drew on her joint and smiled through lidded eyes. Colleen didn't know what had possessed her to stick her finger in her son's mouth, but the sensation reminded her of the pleasure that she had derived and given when Wally used to cradle her head while she slurped his hot shooting semen. She longed to replace the hard lump that she felt in her itching throat with another, harder, lump.

Careful not to disturb Charlie's avid feeding, Collen swung her right leg across his thighs and crouched low to the throbbing obelisk in her pulsing fist. Craning her neck, she divided his fat testicles with her tongue, then swirled them in a figure-eight pattern. He reflexively dropped his hands to her neck, then buried his fingers in her locks. "Oh, my God," she thought, as she felt her juices burst and lubricate her pussy. "Like father, like son. Thank you, Wally, for teaching me, so that now I can teach and enjoy Charlie!"

Raising her head, Colleen replaced her tongue on Charles' eggs with her cupped closed right hand while she enveloped his dickhead with her mouth. Its blood pounded wonderfully against her cheeks as she pulled against its flanged rim then took his full length in until it slid past her glottis. Proudly, she thought, "Over four years, but I still can relax and not choke..." She slithered back to the helmet's edge and rejoiced as Charles' holding hands kneaded her scalp appreciatively.

In his wildest sex fantasies, Charles hadn't imagined the fabulous joy his mother's mouth brought him. He hiked his hips from the waterbed and simultaneously pulled her head to his crotch. Keeping her captured, he flexed his prick and closed his thighs about her ears. He wanted to fuck her throat raw and then soothe it with his ejaculating balm.

Colleen's eyes widened and teared up as her boy's meat lanced deep into her gullet. His firm grip restrained her, then relaxed and allowed her to retreat just before her gag reflex forced her to cough. Her respite was merely momentary. He jammed her face to his pubis and again held her sealed to his pubes.

When Charles eased up once more, Colleen inhaled a great gulp through her nose and prepared herself for a third plunge, but fate was merciful. The inexperienced teen couldn't contain his balls' inspired response. As her head move back and his soft glans raked her hard palate, the friction was too much. While his bulb blasted her cavern's roof and walls, he giddily shouted, "MOMMM! You DID it! I'm cumming again!"

Colleen was glad for the serendipity. She sucked, swallowed and swabbed the spurting semen as fast as it came. As she did so, her heart sang and her pussy percolated. Her excitement didn't reach orgasmic heights, but she was imbued with complete satisfaction.

Moments after the fountain subsided, Charles released Colleen's head, moved his hands to her armpits and hauled her upward onto his body like a human blanket. Kissing her deeply, he tasted his own seed as she shimmied her bare tits, belly and cunt against him in their embrace. Huskily, he said, "Thanks, Mom. Do you really have to go somewhere right now? I'm tired again and want to snuggle and nap with you a little more."

Colleen peered lovingly into her now not-so-innocent son's eyes and brushed her hand lightly through his brush-cut as she thought about how her world, their world, had permanently changed. Sighing, she burbled, "I don't need to go anywhere, Charlie. Hold me here as long as you like." He smiled, affectionately tightened his coiled arms around her warmth, then closed his eyes and dropped off to sleep.

It was just past noon when Charles awoke next. His stomach rumbled and he heard a shower running. Rubbing the sleep matter from his eyes, he rolled left off the bouncy waterbed then started for the master bathroom, but thought better of it and stopped abruptly. As he stood in front of his mother's mirrored dresser, he decided he should learn more about her sizes and her fashion taste in intimate apparel.

The first drawer Charles opened was all panties and honeysuckle sachets. He smiled immediately as he picked up an ivory rayon tricot pair and saw his hands' details through the thin material. Neither opaque, nor quite sheer, the high-cut full-seat briefs' texture was uniquely smooth and rough all at the same time. As he rubbed the fabric between his fingertips sensual messages raced through his body and his naked dick twitched.

The other panties appeared to be similarly styled, but some were plain cotton while others were slick pearlescent satin. Charles noted the tags were all marked 'Medium', except for a beige tricot one which read 'Size 6 (27-29)', which he assumed was his mother's waist size in inches. There wasn't much range in the colors. Most were white or cream or ivory and none were pastel or dark colors.

The next drawer Charles investigated yielded Colleen's bras. All were underwired with wide bands supporting deep plunging cups. Their tags read '34D' which didn't mean as much to him as how wonderful her tits felt when he held them himself, but it was useful information that he was glad to have. As he stared at the neatly arrayed lingerie, he nodded his head thoughtfully, then closed the drawers and left the bedroom.

In his own room, Charles quickly dressed then retrieved the pink-and-black gift card he had hidden away in his sock drawer Friday afternoon. Hurrying quietly from the house, he drove to the Quadrangle Mall, parked his Mazda and walked straight to the Victoria's Secret. Filled with new-found confidence, he strode purposefully through the store's entrance without caring who else might be there shopping. The only person who noticed him at all was the same pleasant mature saleswoman who had helped him before.

"Hi there," said the smiling clerk. "You're back!" She saw right away that Charles was different than when they first met. She didn't know why he seemed less shy and more determined. Behind her professional poker-face, she fretted, "I hope he hasn't chickened out and isn't trying to return the gift card."

Charles didn't stop moving until he was chest-to-chest with the saleswoman. As her fragrance hit his nose, he stepped back a foot and apologized, as he pulled out his wallet and flashed the card, "Sorry, didn't mean to crowd you! But, man, I am glad you are here..." Realizing he was practically panting, he consciously paused, took in a long breath, then continued, "I changed my mind and don't want my mom to have to come in and buy something for herself. She's almost forty. I want to get her something that will make her feel, like, you know, she's young and, and..."

"...Still sexy?" Chimed in the clerk. She chuckled silently at the teen's naivety. She was, herself, thirty-seven years old, and related to the many women, who, like her, kept their youth by wearing daring beautiful undergarments. "I know just what you mean," she added, as she calculated correctly her persuasive strength. Using just the right amount of motherly control, she reached out, grasped his right upper arm and guided him deeper into the store.

As she led her lamb, the saleswoman casually intoned, "You are an exceptionally thoughtful son, but to get something that is just right, you might need to spend a little more than you already put on that card. Is that okay? Or do you want to stick with 'the bargain table'?" She well knew the power of a careful chosen word spoken with a hint of derisive consequence.

"Oh, no," Charles swiftly answered. "I have more money. That's no problem, as long as, like you say, it's 'just right.' Have you got anything lacy in red, or black, or some color that's not, you know, uh, blah?" He coughed as he tried to say 'skimpy' and 'revealing' without using that exact language.

"Oh, you poor boy," thought the clerk. "You really have it bad. I wish I could be there when your mother opens her present. She'll either kiss your or slap you, or maybe both!" Out loud, she replied, "I have a couple of ideas which I'm sure you'll just love." Twenty minutes and sixty dollars in addition to the gift card later, Charles left Victoria's Secret with a large box.

While Charles explored her most personal wardrobe, Colleen stood under her spraying shower head mulling, "What's the likelihood that I'm pregnant if I ovulated today?" As she remembered learning that a woman's egg could only be fertilized up to twenty-four hours after it left its ovary, she speculated hopefully, "And sometimes an egg is only viable for twelve hours." Frowning, she recalled, "Ford fucked me three times between ten and midnight, so maybe I'm safe there, if I didn't have an egg waiting for him."

Colleen's mind reminded her, "Yes, but don't forget, a man's sperm can hide out in your womb for up to five days, so you may not be out of the woods before Tuesday, and maybe not even then. Don't forget that Charlie loaded you up twice more just since six o'clock this morning!"

Colleen idly rubbed her wet belly then clasped her hand over her dripping dusky pubic curls as she considered, "Okay, worst case basis, there's still only about an eight percent chance of a pregnancy under the most optimal circumstances. So, let's see... five times point oh-eight is forty percent..." Her head started to hurt and she burst out, "Oh, that can't be right! But it can't be too far wrong, either!" She sighed, turned off the taps and stepped from the stall into the steamy room.

Standing at her sink, Colleen stabbed out her right index finger and drew on the fogged mirror glass a wavy line silhouette of a profiled woman with a baby bump. Then, wiping it away, she exclaimed, "Que sera, sera!" As she toweled herself dry, she resolved again, "No Plan B. I've only ever made love to three men and all of them are Womacks. One of them gave me a son and now maybe one of them will give me another, or perhaps a daughter. Any way the dice roll is okay with me."

Lighter in heart, with her headache gone, Colleen exited to the bedroom. Noticing that her son was no longer in her bed, she pulled on her velour robe, scuffed into her pink slippers then patrolled the small house calling out, "Do you want me to make you a sandwich, Charlie?" As she realized that she was alone, she muttered, "Boys!"

An hour or so later at the Pomeroy house, Edgar, momentarily disoriented, roused in his daughter's queen-size bed. Mixed triumphant guilt swirled through his brain as he remembered where he was and what he had done. Looking into her sweet placid face, he recalled her enthusiastic ecstasy as he took her virginity. His libido outwrestled his fatherly feelings; his prick maximally stiffened and his swelling chest ached.

When Edgar's hard shaft pushed its soft nose over her thigh's smooth bare skin, Suzanne opened her eyes and sleepily smiled as she greeted, "Hi there, Daddy... does that mean you want us to 'do each other' some more?"

Edgar hesitated less than a second then answered throatily, "Only if you want to, too." Stroking his right hand over her naked right titty to her firm abdomen, he dipped his long fingertip into her shallow navel as he followed-up, "Do you want to be your daddy's best girl, Buttercup? Hmmmm?"

Suzanne covered her father's hand with her own and pushed it lower, past her downy motte to her lubricating netherlips. Coaxing him to insert a finger, or two, in her itching vagina, she murmured, "Uhn-huhn... but I'm going to want a lot of attention. Won't Mom have something to say about that?"

Edgar hooked his ring finger through Suzanne's slick iris and grunted, "Not if we don't tell her. What she doesn't know can't hurt her, can it?" He grinned as he watched the facial reaction while he tickled his little girl's G-spot and simultaneously pressed his thumb firmly on her exposed clitoris.

Suzanne sucked in a sharp breath and squeaked, "N-no... won't tell... UHN! More!"

Suddenly remembering how sexy and desirable Suzanne looked earlier in the kitchen with her cereal milk dribbling from her mouth's as her admonished not to talk with her mouth full, Edgar pulled his hand from her cunt and thrust his sticky finger past her teeth. "Here's a little more, Buttercup," he declared. "Taste yourself on my knuckle." He let her coo for a moment then took away her little lollipop and replaced it with his bigger all-day sucker as he gutturally ordered her, "Now taste this and you'll get all the 'more' that you can handle."