Once again another tale of incestuous fantasy for your reading pleasure brought to you by the demented mind of Blaster666. All persons involved are of legal age and any similarities of persons living or dead is purely coincidental. It is your comments and feedback that fuels the fires of my imagination so please be generous and tell me what you think. But most importantly, enjoy the story.
Moonlight filtered in through the open curtains making it just light enough for me to watch as Becky's lips moved agonizingly slow up and down on my tingling shaft, her tongue occasionally running circles around the bulbous head. I lay there with my hands behind my head and surrendered to her oral manipulations. She was good, so damn good. She knelt on the bed at my side without using her hands and slurped my tool in slow up and down strokes, the fingers of her left hand working her clit and cunt into a state of saturated readiness. That was something I really liked about her; she would get sloppy wet before I even had a chance to touch her smooth shaved box. Being rather endowed, don't get me wrong; I'm no John Holmes, her wetness helped when it came time for her to sink onto my cock. Another thing I liked about her was the fact that no matter how many times we've fucked, she always insisted on being on top. I didn't mind, Becky was as skinny as a beanpole with tits not much bigger than mine, and weighed maybe a hundred pounds soaking wet. Being realistic I knew that it appealed to my lazy side, and also to her need to dominate in everything she did.
Her mouth pulled off my pole with a pop and she threw her leg over my hips. Just as my cock bottomed out in her deep cavern of sloppy wetness I got the unmistakable feeling of being watched. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I tilted my head to look around Becky toward the foot of the bed, then out the open door into the blackness of the hallway. I couldn't see anything; the old house I rented didn't even have a place for a light in the hallway. Still, the sensation of being watched persisted.
"Hey stud, you with me?"
Her question snapped my attention back to what was important; the feel of wet cunt wrapped around my rigid rod. What Becky lacked in tits she more than made up for in nipples. They stuck out from her chest about a half-inch and were extremely sensitive. Reaching up I pinched the light brown protuberances and felt them get hard enough to cut glass. That got Becky's motor revved up. In no time flat she was pounding herself down on all eight inches of my cock and smacking my balls with her skinny ass. Her fingers clawed into the skin of my chest muscles painfully as her humping increased in tempo. The squishy sounds of wet genitalia slapping together filled my bedroom and all thoughts of being watched fled as I felt the oncoming bliss of release. Grunts of pure pleasure poured out of her lips as she feverously hammered down on me. Faster and faster she fucked me until suddenly, she sat straight up and squealed out her rapture as her gripping cunt milked my spurting penis.
"OHHHHHH FUUUCCCCCCKKKKKKK!!!" she hollered and then collapsed onto my chest. Becky is a screamer.
I thought I heard the sound of shuffling feet but couldn't be sure; Becky's loud panting masking out the sounds of the house. After our breathing returned to normal Becky did what she always did after we fucked; she pecked me on the lips, got dressed and left. Not once had she ever stayed the night. She didn't want her husband to come looking for her. Neither did I. At close to six-feet tall, a hundred and seventy pounds of lean muscle I could hold my own. But her husband was a bull of a man with one of the worst tempers I'd ever seen. He was also my boss at the construction company I worked for. Was I crazy? Maybe. Anyone whose ever had as hot and wet of a pussy as Becky's would be crazy enough to chance his wrath too. At least they'd die with a smile on their face. The sound of the front door latching behind her was the last thing I heard before sweet dreams beckoned me into their loving embrace.
Early the next morning, after fighting my morning wood to empty my bladder, I followed my nose down the hall towards the front of the house. I noticed the bedroom across from the bathroom was empty, before entering the living room and continuing on into the adjoining kitchen, dining room combination. I stood in the doorway in my boxers and t-shirt letting the aroma of frying bacon and fresh coffee drift up my nostrils. My heart filled with love as I watched the woman, her back to me, pull slices of toast out of the toaster and lather them with butter. She was dressed in a whitish, threadbare terry-cloth robe that had long ago forgot that it used to be yellow. The robe drooped at her shoulders but hugged the full firm roundness of her ass before descending down to the backs of her knees. Two shapely toned calves stuck out from below the hem of the robe, her feet covered in fluffy pink house shoes. The woman's wavy shoulder length, grey streaked brown hair bounced slightly as she buttered the last piece of toast.
"Morning Mom," I said from the doorway as my greenish-grey eyes took her in.
Startled she spun around, one hand holding the butterknife while the other one darted up and clutched the top half of her robe closed. The same color eyes as mine fell on my face and her generous lips spread into a warm smile.
"Robby! Damn, you almost made me pee my pants. Don't sneak up on your old mother like that," she croaked, the hand holding her robe loosening.
"Sorry Mom. That sure smells good," I chuckled as I walked over next to her and fixed myself a cup of coffee, the top of her head barely reaching my shoulders.
She protested a little when I told her to sit and I'd bring us both some, but she did it anyway. I put the plate of bacon between us on the table to share. Neither of us wanted eggs, so we dined on toast and crispy bacon and washed it down with coffee. She wouldn't have it when I tried to take her cup to refill it; instead she took mine and filled both of them up. On her way back to the table the top half of her robe parted some giving me a view of the top swell of her full breast. Creamy white skin sprinkled with freckles jiggled as she walked. At fifty-three years of age Mom was still a striking woman. I chastised myself for the lewd thoughts that were bouncing around my head. I sipped the hot coffee and thought back to how Mom had come to be staying with me.
Almost a year ago to the day, Dad had suffered a massive heart attack and passed away. It shook Mom to her very core. We were all surprised since Dad seemed to be in great shape for a man nearing his sixties. The doctors had said it was a blocked artery that had caused it. Mom tried to make a go at keeping the house, but the pitiful amount of life insurance Dad had didn't stretch very far. Mom had always been a housewife with no discernable jobs skills, which made it almost impossible for her to get a job that would cover the bills. I offered to move the seven hundred miles back home and take care of her, my being in construction, I was sure that I would find work. She wouldn't hear of me quitting the job I already had. A month ago I made her an offer she couldn't refuse, especially now that the house was being foreclosed on; a fact that I hadn't been aware of until it was too late. If she came and stayed with me I'd get rid of my housekeeper, and she could work for me in exchange for room and board and some spending cash. She agreed to my terms, expressing regret for causing my non-existent housekeeper to lose her job. She cheered up when I told her that I'd found work for the woman elsewhere. She'd used the plane ticket I'd wired her the very next day, and now she was sitting in my kitchen enjoying a cup of joe and bacon. I was pleased with myself even though her presence did put a damper on my love life, somewhat.
Mom held her cup in both hands with her elbows on the table as she sipped her coffee. The top of her robe drooped open a ways and I could see parts of the round globes of her tits pressed together provocatively. The smattering of freckles made me want to ask if I could play connect the dots. I kept my mouth shut but felt a definite swelling in my boxers as I stared at the white creaminess. I looked away just as her head lifted.
"I've been meaning to ask you something," she began hesitantly.
"What's that Mom?"
"Do you always sleep with your door open?"
"Usually. Why, is my TV too loud at night? Because if it is, I'll turn it down or off," I said. The memory of feeling like I had been watched last night returned.
"Oh no, nothing like that. I was just wondering is all," she replied dipping her eyes to take another sip.
"Well, if it'll make you feel better I'll close it from now on," I told her, stealing another glance at her milky cleavage.
"Please don't...I feel safer knowing you're able to hear if I need you for something in the middle of the night." Her eyes caught mine and held them.
"You having trouble sleeping Mom," I asked returning her steady gaze.
"Sometimes I wake up and can't remember where I am. Just a foolish old woman scared of the dark," she chuckled.
"Don't worry, you'll get used to being here. By the way, you're neither foolish nor old," I told her, giving her my best smile.
Beaming, she rose and came around to my side of the dinning table. She bent down and hugged me before tousling my curly brown hair and taking our cups for a refill. My eyes followed her, greedily taking in the gentle swaying of her buttocks as she walked away. I also brazenly watched her walk back, the subtle bouncing of her chest making me wonder if she was wearing a bra. I got the answer when she leaned over and placed my cup on the table. The robe parted enough for me to see the valley between her breasts; there was no sign of a bra. Out of the corner of my eye I could tell she knew what I was looking at but she didn't say anything. She gave me a kiss on my forehead and went back to her seat. The hint of jasmine lingered in the air around my head as the hint of an oncoming erection swelled in my shorts.
"So tell me Robby," she began, holding the cup with both hands and giving me another view of her boobs being squeezed together. "That girl that was here last night, are the two of you serious?"
"Becky? No Mom, we're just friends," I said.
"Well, judging by the sounds I heard, you two must be real good friends." Her eyes twinkled and I could see she was having trouble suppressing a smile.
"Oh God Mom, I'm sorry. Becky, umm, gets a little vocal sometimes," I stammered, the heat rising to my cheeks.
"Don't be sorry, there's nothing wrong with a person expressing themselves. Why, if your father hadn't clamped his hand over my mouth on occasion..." her voice trailed off and sadness filled her eyes.
Getting up and going over to her I wrapped my arms around her shoulders and asked, "You miss him don't you Mom?"
Turning in her chair she wrapped her arms around my waist, lowered her head against my stomach and sobbed out, "Very much so. I get so lonely sometimes without him."
"You're not alone anymore Mom. You have me now," I told her softly.
