"Never fear, I am a pure maiden of the Ewroorung tribe. We are proud of our pelts, gift of the First Mother; we do not clip our coat. We keep fit as the Sky Father taught us to be tough. We maybe shaggy but never baggy! You are half Ewroorung so you naturally have an affinity for the unshorn." With this she shrugged off the top of her robe and declared, "BEHOLD! the 'Venus de Downy' or so your dad calls me." She lifted her arms to form a showgirl V above her head.
Jeffery sat there bedazed. Two thoughts were all his brain could hold just now with the top half of his mum starkers in front of his eyes. The sash kept the lower portion of her gown closed, though the lengthy limbs of her legs were exposed. Clearly she wore just the single garment or maybe panties too? But that wasn't on his mind. Jeff focused on the generous breasts which pendulous hung on her chest. Meanwhile in a sub-basement of the youth's skull her he realized that, yes, his mum's hair was very soft and downy indeed.
His mum spoke breaking the hypnotic hold her tits and arm pits had on him. "Darling, come feel these best of boobies." She lifted the mellons to him Who was he to object to such an invitation to touch the tender tah-tahs, a boon not to be turned down He scooched the chair closer and reached out grasping the jugs, feeling the gravity of their weight, noticing the softness of her skin, observing the small fibers even around her nipples.
"Taste them" his mum urged. Jeff eagerly took the long ruddy-colored points that poked out at least a full centimeter. "Mmm oh yesss." The naughty matron moaned. Then she gently eased him back in his chair.
Jeff asked, "Mum do you mind being so hirsu . . . uh hairy?"
"No," She gave a soft laugh, "I've always been like this, my folks were so, my people all were likewise. I feel natural and I am comfortable in my Ewroorung pelt.
"Sooo," inquired her son, what does this all have to do with dad in the bush?"
"Well bush can mean several things: the outback, a shrub, or a rude vernacular for this!" The swarthy woman took only a second to undo her gown's belt and present the in-her-prime limbs. She spread her thighs to a thirty degree angle. At the apex was a broad delta of what might have been mistaken for black lamb's wool save its place of pride at the juncture of legs and torso. Now the phrase 'lost in the bush' would forever be associated with his mum's pussy and his dad's carpet munching.
"Your gramps and uncle are just jealous of your pop Charlie having bagged an aboriginal woman from my tribe. We usually in-breed, and yes that means sometimes a bit of incest. It's what keeps us hirsute and happy.
"Jeffery . . .," His mum's voice took on the sing-song tone she reserved for when hhe was little and she was offering a candy or new toy. "would
you
like to get lost in your old mum's bush?"
She didn't have to ask twice. Jeff moved so his knees were on carpet. He nosed into her split and saw her clit was as extended as her nipples. He suckled on that immediately. Then with the curly fur softly caressing his cheek, like having two plush toys rubbed on each side of his face, he commenced lick the juicy cunt that his cock craved. As he manipulated her genitals: swirling, dipping deep, drubbing and thrumming the succulent pink flesh; his mum moaned loudly, cried out 'yeses' and 'there!' and finally came a great screech as she went over the top to a shuddering orgasm.
