“Henry, I have to get these fucking presents wrapped, honey,” Hilda told her offspring and husband of over sixteen years as she sat on the floor, adorned in a red Christmas sweater that hugged her globular boobs like a glove, making them like the two bottom thirds of a snowman’s body stuffed beneath her garment. The sweater was decorated with a Santa Claus who grinned as he stood atop a chimney, but couldn’t crawl into it because of the crude naked erection that jutted out of his red elf pants. “It’s two fucking days till Christmas and there’s so much shit to do. It’s hard to wrap when you keep smacking me in the mouth with your wee wee! Tee hee! Stop it, baby! Henry, I’m not opening up for you right now!”
Henry’s thoroughly hardened twelve-inch organ met the thick ruby red lips of
Hilda, only this time they were closed and for once were not engulfing his shaft with holiday gusto.
“Oh, all right!” Henry laughed, in spite of not getting what he wanted and instead placed his open palms at the front of her sweater and pressed down on her L-cup plumpers, those fuckers having grown since having quadruplets sixteen years before as they flattened like soft rubbery flesh balloons. “Well, that’s some holiday spirit, Wifey-Mommy! Ha ha! Just for that I’m going to go see if
Honey needs any help with her homework.”
“Henry motherfucking Humper, you know damn fuckin’ well that school is out for
Christmas,” Hilda managed with a giggle, feeling tingles through her big ol’ boobies as she watched him fish his wiener back into his pants and zip up.
“Yeah, but an algebra review couldn’t hurt her any,” Henry knowingly smirked as he cupped his groin and smiled at his wife and her bazoombas, festive as they were.
“Oh, Henry, you be easy with my baby, you hear me, Mr. Big Wean?” Hilda told him seriously, leaning to place a ribbon around a package that contained Hardy’s gift of a DVD of his favorite busty big-boobied superstar. “I mean, she’s only been taking wee wees in that thing for about a week and a half. Remember that, okay?”
“I’ll make sure she’s nice and moist, I promise,” Henry reassured the Humper matriarch, his overly chestly loaded mother with a wink. “I’ll make sure she’s relaxed too, okay?”
“And Henry, let her suck it a lot if she wants to. It’s good practice at her age,” Hilda said semi-sternly, tweaking a nipple for his benefit. “Cause you know her brothers’ wee wees will be needing that sucking and shit a lot.”
“Yeah, I know, baby,” Henry said in agreement with his wife while still ogling her bountiful breasts. “I think maybe I’ll have a shower though. I do feel kind of sweaty after that workout you gave me, ha ha. Maybe Honey will join me.”
“That’s a sweet idea, Henry,” Hilda replied, cutting off another swipe of
Christmas wrapping paper and reaching for the Scotch tape. “She just got home from cheerleader practice, so I’m sure she’s probably wanting one. Her giant chubby titties were probably sweating like a motherfucker. By the way, while you’re up there, could you tell Hayley and Hardy to keep it down a bit? They’ve been having some pretty lively sex up there by the sounds of it and I can hardly hear myself think. Just ask them to tone it down a little, sweets?”
“No problem, lover,” Henry said sweetly, leaning down to kiss Hilda on the top of her pretty blonde head while sneaking a peek at her massive hilly boobs in the process. “I’ll come down later and help you get some of those chores done.”
Heading up the stairs, Henry walked down the upstairs hallway and heard soft moaning and the subtle squeak of a box spring as he reached his daughter Honey’s room. Always mindful of his children’s privacy, he gently rapped on the door.
“Honey? Are you in there?” he inquired.
“Mmmmmmmm ... uh, just a minute, Daddy!” a bubbly girlish voice replied from the other side of the door. “I’m ... ohhhhhh ... just, um, taking off my makeup!
When it came to Humper sexuality and privacy, shame-free was really the only way to go. Even before Henry was splashing his random spittings into his buxomly-boobered L-cupped “Wifey-Mommy’s” sweet cock-squeezing tunnel of hump,
Hilda would still kneel before him as he masturbated as a youngster and let him aim the pleasurable shots emanating from the opening of his pee wee at her mouth specifically and secondarily at her practically unmissably large boob targets, her face, her hair, etc. Henry would bathe his spouse mommy, her mouth, throat, tit bombers and any other naked part of his lithe blonde goddess which he now resided with in a uniquely tweaked marital relationship. Fuck, but he loved it.
Fuck, but his wife was hilly at the boobs. And fuck, he now had four more bouncy gazongas to play with, and the best thing of all was, they were all Humpers.
“Makeup?” Henry laughed dismissively, debating whether to undo the front of his pants presumptuously before entering Honey’s girly abode, and to surprise his hilly-titted sixteen-year-old cheerleader daughter with an immediate look at his plump and proud fatherly penis leading the way into her room. “You never wear makeup to cheerleader practice, Pumpkin Tits. You said that that makeup shit runs when you get all sweaty and gets in your eyes, then you can’t watch your big Humper juggies bounce. Did your chubby titties get really sweaty today at practice after all that jumping up and down inside your top?” Henry could feel his wee wee surge, lengthen and fatten inside his pants at the very thought of her eternally deep cleavage. He squeezed his tingly and growing member and rubbed it a couple times as he reached for the door knob. “It’s okay if you are playin’ the ‘finger-walkin’ game under your dress, Chubby Baby. Can Daddy come in anyway, Sugar Boobs?”
“Ohhh ... ummm, I guess you can come in, Daddy,” Honey replied, her voice still a bit sheepish despite her father’s reassurances. Smiling and opening the door, Henry walked into his daughter’s bedroom and chuckled to himself at the sight before him. Honey lay on her bed, her thick legs hastily crossed underneath her red and white cheerleader skirt, the matching top (along with her red thong panties) casually discarded on the floor. Henry moved his eyes up past her padded tummy and up to her J-sized breasts, her pale pink nipples and areolas reminding him of her mother’s, who also happened to be Henry’s own mother as well. Henry noticed a few drops of melted chocolate on the upper slopes of her chest, and smirked to himself as he looked up at her face and saw his daughter enjoying a fudgesicle, her long tongue snaking around the frozen treat, her expression a twisted mixture of youthful innocence, wanton whorishness, and genuine hunger.
Shhhlurp-shhhlurp “Hey, Daddy!” Honey greeted her father, still feeling a little flustered at the interruption of her alone time. “I was just up here, umm, having a little snack and chilling out after practice!” shhlurp shhlurp she said, her face showing the same enraptured look towards the frozen treat that her mother and aunt Harriet typically reserved for whatever wee wee they would happen to be licking in the same way. “How is the present-wrapping coming along? Did you get Mommy something fun?” she continued, batting her eyelashes towards her father in an attempt to change the subject away from the elephant in the room.
“Your momma is so fucking difficult to buy for, Hon. I got her the Jenna Jameson autobiography like she wanted. Jenna is inspirational to your mom. Plus, I got her a new Buxsom brand green bra that has the zippable nursing cups that are convenient for when she plays with the boys in public. She can still let the boys suck her boob milk, but without having to take her top completely off,”
Henry told her, grinning a bit as he spotted another drop of chocolate ice cream dribbling off the somewhat penis-shaped fudge pop and directly onto her pert, firm and oh-so-deliciously young left breast. “You’re dripping again, baby.”
“Tee hee hee hee, Daddy! Dripping! I normally say that to you when your pee wee has been big and hard for a while! Tee hee!” the sweet stacked sixteen girl giggled and took another generous lick of her popsicle as her uproarious laugh made her sound as immature (emotionally, not boobaliciously, cause she was fucking mountainous) as her youthfully short lifespan would suggest. “And
Daddy’s got a big vanilla popsicle! Tee hee hee hee! And it’s way creamier on the inside! Tee hee hee! Wheeeeeee! The outside of Daddy’s popsicle is sorta ... like ... hmmmmmm ... like ... the ice cream flavor could be the
40th flavor for Baskin-Robbin’s or a Ben and Jerry’s treat! Tee hee hee! Like, it would be a favorite flavor for girls. I’ll call it, Boney Baloney! Tee hee heeeeeeeeee!” Honey Humper’s youthful giggle echoed through the room and her bare and bouncy bosoms, round and full and heavy chortled on her chest. Her stomach, her “chubby baby belly” as Henry called it, had a little padding around it and her face was round and absolutely angelically gorgeous. Honey’s lips were thick, full and ruby red. Her bottom was a little fuller than her sister’s.
.... There is more of this story ...