Author's Note: This story is not realistic. People do not behave like this in real life. Take it about as seriously as a random hornypost.
Also, there's no incest. It flirts with the line a little at certain moments. All characters portrayed are consenting adults of at least 18 years of age.
This is a standalone story.
-----------------------------------------
"We have to be quiet," hissed my girlfriend Shana. "My mom might hear us!"
"Good," I said.
I had her face down in her childhood bed, naked as the day she was born, a handful of her dishwater-blonde hair in my grasp while my free hand smacked her freckled ass. I had her practically eating the sheets.
"You can't mean that," she said. Her voice was muffled now, almost taunting me to go harder. Her cute, round butt stuck out at me provocatively, pressing up against my crotch, as I loomed over her. I smacked it again and a hard, loud noise rang out in the quiet room. She shrieked and her reddened ass cheeks shook like jello.
"Ow!" she squealed. "Oh Daddy, that hurt."
"Then why are you getting wetter?"
"Shh!"
I chuckled and spanked her again. She let out a shrill exclamation of mock indignance and I felt her legs shudder beneath me.
"I'm serious," she said into the blankets. "Mom's in the next room over!"
"This can't be the first time you've brought a guy over," I said. "You're a grown woman."
"Dnmtrrr," she said.
"What?"
I released my death grip on her scalp and she came up for air, panting, glancing around nervously with a flushed, tear-streaked face.
"Doesn't matter!" she hissed. "She wouldn't appreciate hearing me curse. When I really get going I can't control what comes out of my mouth."
"Why did she invite us to stay the night if she isn't prepared to hear something interesting?"
"Obviously she knows we're fucking," she said, rolling her eyes and unconsciously pressing her butt even harder against me. "But I don't think she needs to hear ALL the details, does she?"
"Like what?"
I unzipped my jeans and pulled out my hardening dick. It stuck out at her and swayed obscenely in the open air of her room. Her eyes widened at it.
"Like... Um..." she said. "I forgot what I was going to say."
I laughed loudly and rubbed the tip of my manhood against her damp and inviting slit. "I fucking love you, Shana."
"I love you t--"
I slammed her face back down into her bed sheets and slid into her like a hot knife through butter. She yelped and moaned out in abject pleasure as I pounded away, filling the room with the unmistakable sounds of our carnal indiscretion.
"She already knows her daughter is a slut," I insisted. She moaned in response, whatever words she intended to rebuke me with melting into desperate incoherence. The sweat from our naked bodies gleamed under the dim lamplight of her bedroom. Her mother couldn't have been that shocked that her daughter was getting it on. Shana had that vibe about her. But the thrill of reducing her to a whimpering, horny mess in the room she grew up in filled me with a wicked sort of fascination. I wasn't too dirty-minded for Shana, mind you. We were just the right amount of dirty for each other.
I flipped her over on her back and the slender, petite girl's perky tits flopped against her chest. She gazed up at me, panting, embarrassed, aroused. Her eyes were wide and glossed over with molten lust. I gripped her by the ankles and rested her long, skinny legs over each of my shoulders as I prepared to enter her again.
"Please," she pleaded, her voice broken.
"You're going to have to be more specific."
She reached up towards my face with her small, searching hands, as if trying to coax me back in. "Please fill me up, Daddy. Make me your whore."
"That's more like it."
I plunged back into her waiting cunt and she cried out sharply. She slapped one of her hands over her mouth to stifle the moans. I pushed her hand away and she tried to cover her face with her pillow. I grabbed that too and threw it off the bed.
"Are you really trying to get us in trouble?" she whimpered. I gripped one of her pink, hard nipples between my fingers and pinched it. She squealed and giggled. "You're gonna regret this at breakfast tomorrow morning when she's giving us sideways looks."
"I'm not embarrassed," I said. "It's you who should be embarrassed. She's your mom, not mine."
"I hope she's sleeping. I haven't heard her for a while."
"She's going to have some pretty interesting dreams."
"You evil man!"
I slammed into her again, fucking Shana like a flimsy rag doll. She was so tight, so supple, so eager. My pounding intensified. Her tits were practically breaking the sound barrier now.
"Oh god!" she wailed, her head thrown back, squinting in ecstasy. "Oh baby, I'm right there."
"Fuck!" I grunted. "Yeah, you little slut. You want daddy's milk?"
"Oh yes daddy! Please, I want it so bad."
"Where do you want it, Shana?"
Her eyes flicked open and she panted out a hoarse response. "On my tits. I wanna feel it on my skin."
"Such a slut," I said. "Moan for me. Let me know you want it."
"Oh god..."
She was utterly losing her composure now. Her eyes rolled back in her head as another orgasm crashed into her like a big horny freight train. Any pretense of 'keeping it down' was pretty well out the window now. The sight of her flopping tits and the look of pure bliss on her pretty little face sent me over the edge and I frantically pulled out.
"Fuck! Oh god, Shana..."
I jerked myself off onto her pale, heaving tits. Thick, white ropes of semen painted her in the glistening evidence of my desire. Soon her chest was wet and gleaming with a mixture of sweat and cum. My legs went weak then and I collapsed into the bed beside her with a final grunt of release.
"Oh my god," she sighed, coming down from her rapturous high. "Daddy..."
I caught my breath, still clutching my dick even as it softened in my hand. Shana looked down at herself and rubbed the cum into her skin with a detached fascination. She turned on her side to face me, pulling me in close, planting small, tender, satisfied kisses all over my face.
"I'm so embarrassed!" she whispered, although her voice betrayed a naughty playfulness. "She definitely heard us."
"Probably," I said. "You don't really think she'll mind, do you?"
"Nah," she said. "My mom's pretty chill with sex stuff. I just hope we didn't wake her."
I picked up her discarded panties and began to wipe the cum off her chest in soft, gentle strokes.
"What's for breakfast?" I asked.
She slapped my arm and giggled despite herself. "You pig!"
***
The next morning my girlfriend and I showered and dressed slowly, lingering in her bedroom until nearly 10 AM, almost as if to put off the inevitable. Making a sexual display of Mrs. Watson's daughter in the heat of the moment and from behind a closed door was one thing. Facing her at breakfast was going to be something else.
"I told you to be quiet!" Shana reproached me, fastening on her bra and pulling a loose white T-shirt over her head. "You could've settled for slow, romantic lovemaking but noooo. You just have to be the human jackhammer every time, don't you?"
"This isn't the fucking Notebook."
She planted a small kiss on my cheek and her full lips stretched into a secret, lecherous smile. Her blonde hair hung around her shoulders in disheveled streaks. "Go on then, stud. Go explain to my mother what those noises were last night. Must've been a ghost, right?"
"I'm good. Not even slightly embarrassed."
"We'll see how your eye contact is at breakfast. I'll be watching you."
"Now you're making me self-conscious."
"Gross." She leaned in for another kiss and grasped onto my bulge with searching fingers. "Don't give me the ick."
We emerged from her bedroom and filed down the staircase to the kitchen. Shana had been trying for months to get me over to her mom's house and last night she had finally gotten me to agree to it. To 'show me off' as she put it. We were both in college and lived in separate apartments in the city, but Mrs. Watson still made every excuse possible to see her daughter, even now. Occasionally Shana would still come over and spend the night to keep her mom company. I was sure I wasn't the first boyfriend she brought with her on such occasions, but it was a first for me. I was nervous.
"Do you really think she approves of me?" I asked quietly as we slowly descended the steps. The smell of bacon and pancakes wafted up to us from the kitchen and I remembered my hunger.
"You made a good impression at dinner last night," Shana answered. "Don't worry yourself. It's unattractive."
We entered the kitchen and saw that Shana's mom was already hard at work. The frying pan sizzled and the coffee pot grumbled in the corner. Mrs. Watson was at the sink with her back to us, rinsing dishes, humming to herself cheerfully.
"Morning, Mom!" Shana called.
The older woman shut off the faucet and turned to face us, her elegant features lighting up into a sweet and motherly smile. She was a beautiful woman in her own right. Fuller and more bosomy than her daughter, probably in her early forties by now, but possessing much the same aggressive beauty. A pink, cutesy apron hugged her frame and her slender legs danced under a classy red sundress.
"Good morning, lovebirds," she said. "Go ahead and sit down! Food's almost ready."
"Thanks, Mrs. Watson," I said.
Shana's mom nodded at me, her dark green eyes narrowing into knowing slits. Oh yeah, she definitely heard.
Shana and I sat down at the table and helped ourselves to the coffee Mrs. Watson had prepared for us. My girlfriend teased me under the table with her stocking foot, rubbing up against my leg. Her cheeks were pink with nervous excitement. I stared back at her with a smirk.
"I must say, that was one long shower," said Mrs. Watson, setting our generous plates of food in front of us. She sat down and quietly said grace before taking the first bite. Very respectable, that Mrs. Watson.
"We needed to get extra clean," Shana explained. I gulped and fidgeted in my chair. My girlfriend giggled.
"It's summertime," said her mom, taking a ladylike sip from her tea. "It gets awfully sweaty in the summertime, doesn't it?"
Shana's foot continued to rub up against my leg. I felt a growing stiffness in my pants, grateful that there was a table shielding the view from her mother. Did it even matter at this point? Shana was right, I was finding eye contact with her mother a little difficult. I was really hoping she wouldn't bring it up.
"I hate to bring it up," said Mrs. Watson, wiping the edges of her mouth with a napkin and eyeing us slyly, "but I have to get my beauty sleep at night. You guys are making that hard for me."
Shana looked up from her plate, swallowing a mouthful of bacon. "What do you mean, Mom?"
Mrs. Watson feigned an awkward cough before proceeding. "Listen, I know how it is when you're young and you have the bedroom all to yourselves, but please consider your poor mother before you go rearranging the walls!"
I nearly spat out my food. This was rather more awkward than I anticipated.
"S-sorry, Mrs. Watson," I offered bashfully.
She rolled her eyes. Her daughter burst into hysterical laughter.
"I'm sorry," Shana said, waving a hand in front of her face as if to push away the laughs. "That was funny."
