Disoriented and dizzy, thirty-nine-year-old Bernice Pomeroy woke up in her easy chair. Despite the plaid wool Pendleton throw which covered her from shins to chin, her skin felt clammy. To her left in the unlit living room, the vacant couch and blank Samsung television screen mounted above her brick fireplace silently testified that family movie-night had long since concluded. Standing up slowly, she smoothed her pale green cotton shirt-dress over her shapely mature hourglass figure, then folded the blanket and returned it to its rightful place on the nearby hearth-seat.
"I guess Eddie and Suzie have gone off to bed," Bernice mused. "At least they covered me up, even if they didn't wake me to say 'good night'." Sighing softly, she picked up her finished Manhattan from the pecan-and-glass end table by her chair. As she looked at the forlorn Maraschino cherry stem in the empty cocktail glass, she thought, "A nightcap for me will be perfect before I trot off and join them."
Of course, Bernice had no inkling that, were she in her bed right now, she would, in fact, be joining her husband and eighteen-year-old daughter who had, themselves, joined so randily that they now lay together in post-orgasmic oblivion. At the wet bar, the large decorative brass-and-elm wall clock's shiny hands showed that Sunday morning was barely five minutes old. Forgoing the vermouth, bitters and garnish, she tossed back a double Johnny Walker Black Label scotch neat, then said quietly to the still room, "Happy Mothers' Day!"
As she set the drained shot glass on the bar, Bernice rubbed her free right hand sensuously over her belly, just below her dress's sewn-in belt buckle, and thought about her daughter's former boyfriend, Howard 'Butch' Carlson. More specifically, she thought about his yummy thick cock shooting into her mouth and the two condoms full of his eighteen-year-old sperm-laden semen which hadn't fulfilled their biological purpose in her fertile womb. Closing her eyes and remembering how plentifully he had fucked her in the middle of her current monthly menstrual cycle while Edgar was fixing someone's sink and Suzanne was at cheer practice, she thought lustily, "In forty more hours the progestin will be on the job and it won't matter. I can ride his stallion bareback whenever I want to... worry-free!"
Bernice wobbled unsteadily toward the foyer. At the foot of the staircase, she held on to the banister, then bent over and pulled off her white three-inch spike-heeled pumps. As blood rushed to her lowered head, the fresh whiskey worked against her and joined forces with the barbiturate still active in her system from the Mickey Finn Edgar had slipped her after dinner. Buzzed and barefoot, she mounted the steps, then ascended slowly while she instinctively gripped the rail as a precaution.
Invisible under the covers in her parents' king-size bed, Suzanne snuggled with her dad, nose to nose as close as two bodies could be. She drowsed happily in her dreamy half-sleep taking loving comfort from his soft regular exhalations. He subconsciously reveled in her tented hair's strawberry scent while her nipples, compressed to his, conducted her glow to his very core. Neither knew the peril advancing upon them from the hall.
Grateful that the last person in the upper hall hadn't turned out the light before retiring, Bernice left it on as she entered the master bedroom. Even so, the ambient backlighting did not allow her to discern that the vague lump beneath the quilted satin spread was her incestuously entwined husband and daughter. Catching a toe in the folds of Edgar's trousers where he dropped them in front of the closets, she lurched forward, smacked her palm into the mirror glass and yelped, "Shit!" Fortunately for the bed's occupants, her back was to them as they bolted upright, instantly alarmed and awake.
Edgar immediately held his right forefinger to his lips as he shooed Suzanne off the bed and pointed frantically with his left hand signaling her to escape. At the same time, he got up on the bed's right side and hurried toward his wife, exclaiming as he went, "BUNNY! What the heck? Are you okay?"
In her half-drunk, half-drugged, distracted state, Bernice failed to see Suzanne, naked from nape to heels, clutching her bunched up sweatsuit and belly-crawling toward the hall faster than a sidewinder chasing a kangaroo rat. However, she didn't fail to notice Edgar's nudity. "What the heck, indeed, Eddie," she jousted. "How come you're not wearing pajamas? And why are you leaving your clothes on the floor for me to trip over?" As her momentary adrenalin rush subsided, her temples throbbed and she involuntarily frowned cross-eyed at him.
"Yeah, Bunny," Edgar began contritely. "I'm really sorry about that. It's been a super-long day. I was hot and eager to get in the sack... I guess I just wasn't thinking about anything else. Really. I'm so sorry. Did you hurt yourself?" Stepping forward, he pressed her into a hug and conveniently turned her so that she couldn't see, either directly, or in the mirrors, Suzanne rising from the carpet and scampering away.
Mollified, and appreciating Edgar's sympathetic tone, Bernice relaxed in his embrace as she replied, "I know what you mean... I thought it was just me... go back to bed, Dear, I'll be with you as soon as I get undressed."
Edgar couldn't recall the last time he had paid any real attention to his wife's body, but as he sat on his side of the bed and watched her shuck out of her dress, his prick was quick remind him where his daughter got her sexy looks from. Laying back and centering himself on the mattress, he called out, "Don't bother hanging that up, Bunny... or putting on a nightgown, either, for that matter. I'm starting to catch a chill, come here and hold me."
Bernice's sexual energy had been sparking off-and-on all day since her glorious romp with Butch. Her dress was already on its hanger, but woozy though she was, Edgar's plea caught her with her defenses low and her libido high. Turning around in her pastel green see-through lace lingerie, she didn't know if she was protesting or agreeing as she heard herself say, "Oh, Eddie, it's been such a long time... do we even know how anymore?"
Edgar thought about how exciting it had been to mouth-fuck his little girl during 'The Last Jedi' when Bernice was dozing only a few feet away. With his hand between his legs, he touched the cum blot that was now drying on the bottom sheet and wondered, "Will it be just as thrilling to drill Bunny right here on Suzie's wet spot? Will she notice? What'll I say if she does?" His aching nuts and swelling cock rooted for him to find out as he answered, "C'mon, Kiddo, I hear it's just like riding a bicycle..."
Bernice chuckled and once again flashed back to Butch Carlson pumping her from behind as she knelt on the bed practically on top of where Edgar was now. Glad that she had changed the sheets, she felt her cunny dampen. Giving in, she walked toward the hall as she said disingenuously, "Alright, we can try, but don't be upset with me if I forget what to do." After snapping off the hall light switch and drawing the door closed, she pushed her panties to the floor, shed her bra, then climbed up on the mattress to reacquaint herself with her conjugal stranger.
As Bernice settled herself astride Edgar with her shins bracketing his thighs, she pushed her bare bottom back to his knees. He licked his lips and gazed with renewed appreciation at her perfect mature C-cup tits. Leaning forward, she lifted his turgid tool from his flattened paunch and teased, "I'd forgotten how cute your cock and balls are." She lowered her face to meet his knob, kissed away a glistening dab from its slit, then cooed coyly, "But it's not a bike... it's a spike!"
Sliding forward while she straightened up, Bernice rubbed Edgar's upright meat along her pussy's slice to her clit and then back down to her flowering garden's gate. As she repeated the sliding massage twice more, his progressively slicked prick wallowed increasingly deeper within her lubricating labia. Electric jolts raced to her dopamine center. Simultaneously dropping her ass while she thrust it forward at the bottom of the third stroke, she took him wholly inside her and ejaculated, "Pound me, Eddie! Nail me with that spike!"
Edgar grunted as Bernice's forceful weight landed and her squishing cunt surrounded his rock pillar. He didn't need her encouragement, but her cries excited him all the same. Reaching out, he seized her breasts and pinched their pips while he used the bedsprings to launch his loins higher and harder against her skewered cooze. As he bucked, she ground against his pubic bone; as she rode high to his prick's peak, he reloaded for the next round.
Pushing her up and pulling her back down roughly by her boobs, Edgar bounced Bernice like a ball as he followed her orders and pounded her relentlessly. She gripped his waist and held on while her hair flew madly. In her manic joy, she was oddly detached and saw herself from outside herself even as her orgasmic pressures built to bursting. He, on the other hand, was singularly focused on giving her his all, but not before she was ready to finish her rambunctious ride.
Bernice panted and perseverated, "Oh, God!... uhn!... Oh, God!... unh!" Edgar chuffed quick little puffs while he chunked shorter and more rapid throws into her steaming cunt. Then, with animal ferocity, she dug all ten sharp lacquered fingernails into the slight flab roll above his hip points, threw her head back and hissed to the ceiling, "YESSSS! Eddie! YESSSS!" He jammed his joint to its maximum depth, brutally yanked her flush to his groin and responded in kind to her supercharged climax.
Bernice passed out and fell forward as Edgar dropped his hands to her ass and immobilized her pelvis while he pumped out his load. Her bodyweight, flattening her bulging breasts to his heaving chest, made his already ragged breathing that much more difficult. His exploding dick spat spunk thickly into her tumultuous sea as her smooth milking pussy muscles autonomically sucked for more. When he felt his final surge depart, he wrapped his arms around her, rolled both their bodies ninety degrees to the right then closed his eyes to join her unconscious soul, leaving his fat used-up plug to retreat as it would from her filled bottle's neck while their freshly-made wet spot dried on top of his and Suzanne's old cracking starch-splotch.
In her post-coital coma, Bernice was blithely blind to her own body's treachery. The fact that she had been impaired by diazepam and Scotch did not alter truth that the birth control pills she had begun taking that afternoon were not instantly effective protection, nor that the undeployed Durex condoms in her purse were useless guardians. As she slept, her ovaries played 'Beat-The-Clock' and a rupturing fecund follicle expelled its egg before its biological orders could be countermanded. Meanwhile, millions of good reasons to have been more clever pressed through the cervical portal to her preparing womb to learn which, if any, might successfully penetrate the ultimate barrier and begin a new life.
Four hours later, Bernice lay undisturbed and snoring, but Edgar, faced away from her, lay wide awake. Insistent on its usual morning exercise, his everyday woody thumped his navel. He grabbed hold of his conscienceless cock and frowned in the dark as he silently cursed, "Christ! You're a maniac! You've fucked everyone in the house literally six ways to Sunday! Go the fuck back to sleep!" His boner not only ignored him, it pulsed hotly in his fist as if it hadn't seen any action for months.
Groaning softly, Edgar slipped out of bed and thought, "Maybe a walk to the kitchen will help. Something to eat and then back to bed..."
