Chapter 19: A Wild Family Night

Once home, I said, “Mom, take off everything but your skirt and tennis shoes.”

“I have to work,” Mom pouted, but a burning light ignited in her eyes, and a drawn-out, sensual mask took over her features—defiant yet daring. “And our lunch is cold.”

“Take them off.”

“Make me, you little bastard,” Mom whispered with a tremor in her voice.

A chill ran through me the moment I heard the word bastard, and my poor, overworked cock started to rise like the champion that it was.

I dropped our to-go bag on the floor and walked toward my mother. Her lower lip trembled, then she turned and ran, dropping her black-bagged dildo on the floor. I caught her at the stairs, pushing her front side against the banister as I reached under her skirt. She fought me, but with little resistance, a slight push, a movement of her hips, but never trying to overpower me. She let me break down her struggle with bully-like persistence.

I held my mother around her waist with my left arm, my hand sliding under her shirt, then rising upward. I exposed her smooth stomach as I took her smallish, right tit in my palm and squeezed her flesh hard.

“Uh,” Mom grunted, sounding angry, though she pushed her ass against my dick, grinding her butt in a circle against me.

That’s one hot bitch, I heard that scumbag’s voice from the strip club running through my skull.

That hot bitch is mine, is how I had answered him, and just like when I had first said it, my heartbeat sped up as my blood warmed and heat rippled to the surface of my skin. I slid my right hand under Mom’s short, slutty tennis skirt, up the back of her right thigh to her naked ass cheek. I squeezed her firm crescent while lowering my mouth to her ear and breathing hard. Mom panted, breathing just as hard as I was. I moved my fingers to the side, digging her G-string out of her ass crack and tickling her asshole at the same time.

“Ooh,” Mom whimpered, shuddering.

I closed my fingers around her floss-like G-string and the waistband at the top of her butt. Mom’s body moved snake-like against me as I said, “Some pervert who watched you fuck yourself called you a hot bitch.” Mom shivered as my words caressed her ear. “I said that you were my hot bitch.”

“Mark,” Mom whined.

“Are you my hot bitch, Mom, or do I have to make you my hot bitch?”

“Make me your bitch,” Mom gasped, her voice shaking with excitement. “Show your mother that you own this pussy!”

I growled in Mom’s ear, taking her lobe between my teeth as I yanked hard on the triangular of string holding her panties together above her butt.

“Uh!” Mom grunted as the front of her panties tightened against her.

Resistance met my savage pull, lifting Mom’s hips upward until she stood on her toes, and then it was gone as her panties snapped in several places. “Yes!” Mom gasped as her G-string fell between her legs, and her waistband ripped in two, retreating to the front of her crotch. I tossed what was left of her panties behind me. I went for my pants and wrestled my cock from its cage as Mom’s slutty micro-string fell onto the steps below us.

My cock sprang free, still a little wet from Mom’s cummy juices that had melted from the heat beneath my jeans. I had never fucked my mother from behind before, and my heart swelled, thinking that the first time I was going to bend my mother over was when she had asked me to make her my bitch.

Mom’s pussy lips kissed my knob, and her hot wetness filled my spongy tip with heat. Her soft folds pushed inward, the snug line of her slit spreading over my glans, and then her inner tightness fought me, engulfed me, and finally took my prick into her cream-filled tunnel.

“Oh, yeah,” I groaned as her pussy walls clenched my shaft, sucking on my pole and creating a slippery, velvet-like friction that tingled my glans. “That’s my pussy, Mom. Mine.”

“Uh-huh,” Mom moaned in a shaky voice. She raised her right leg to a higher step, opening her cunny to me, her lips spreading and leaving trails of honey around my swollen sausage. “Fuck me, Mark. Fuck me!”

I buried my bone as deep as I could in Mom’s sopping wet furrow, spreading pussy meat and opening her body to her very soul. My knob hit the back of her, ground against something soft and wet and all too comfy. I pulled out, her lips chasing my shaft until I rammed my cock back into her cunt, driving the breath from her lungs.

Groans and grunts followed. “Uh, ah, uh, oh, uh, mmm, umm, ah, ah-fuck-shit-oh—oh, god!” We gasped in harmony with the naughty, wet squishy sounds my cock made as it churned her incestuous pussy cream into butter. Mom struggled again, her hands pulling at the rail, and after pulling out too far because I wanted to hammer her cunny hard, Mom escaped my cock and fell to the stairs. She crawled upward as I slipped back and down a step, catching myself as my eyes fell on the black bag hiding her dildo. I ran down the stairs with my cock bobbing, grabbed the bag, and turned back to Mom, who was still crawling up the stairs.

“Fuck,” I growled as I chased her, shucking my clothes and getting naked, taking her dildo out and holding its floppy silicone body in my hand.

Mom looked over her right shoulder, her eyes widening as she saw me, her naked son, marching toward her with a raging cock between his legs and another one in his hand. Mom doubled her efforts, her tennis skirts flopping up and down, giving me a peep show of her ass cheeks and asshole, the pink line of her clam dripping with juice. I reached her as her upper body hit the second-floor landing, but her knees were still two steps below the second floor.

Catching my mother, I wrapped my right arm around her waist and held her still, the dildo against her skin. Lining my cock up to her muff with my left hand, I pushed into her hole, her twat tunnel gripping me hard as I forced her pussy muscles to stretch and her channel to expand.

“God damn,” Mom grunted. Her voice sounded low and stressed as I filled her core with cock. “So fucking deep, baby.”

I pumped her pretty pussy several times, feeding her my sausage as her little oven-baked my flesh. Mom fucked me back, tried to run, then fucked me back again as I grabbed her long hair with my left hand, turning it into a flaxen ponytail. I used it to hold her in place by pulling her head up and back. I swung my right hand from around her waist and ran the head of the dildo between her cheeks. The knob touched my cock as I drenched the silicone in her cummy honey.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Mom uttered, turning her head and fighting my hold on her hair. I brought the dildo around, going for my mother’s mouth, the crown touching her ear, then her cheek, sliding toward the corner of her lips, and she smacked it from my hand.

“Fuck,” I growled, going after the dildo as it fell onto the landing.

Mom crawled away, stood, and fell against the wall. She walked on shaky legs and bent knees, passing her office on her way to her bedroom. I picked up the dildo and followed her, my feet thumping on the carpet. Once in her room, she stumbled to her bed and crawled across her mattress, stopping at the headboard. She turned around, her eyes looking at the door, but I had walked to the side of her bed. When she turned her head to look at me, I grabbed her hair and pulled her toward my cock.

“Umm,” Mom gulped, the sound wet and full around my prick.

Even as my mother sucked me off, her right hand dug at her nightstand drawer. I pulled it open for her, and she grabbed a box of wet wipes that lay inside. She grabbed a wipe and thrust it at her new toy. I looked down, seeing carpet fibers on the cock. Putting her plan together, I grabbed the wipe and rubbed it over her dildo, cleaning it before slipping my cock from her mouth and replacing it with her new, cock-shaped lollipop.

I moved onto the bed and between Mom’s legs, forcing them open while she sucked on the dildo I held in her mouth. She grabbed it and kept sucking while I pushed her tennis skirt up and flopped my hard cock onto her pubic hair, then down between her legs. After a couple of back and forth slides, I found Mom’s pussyhole and pushed inward. Her insides parted with a tight, squeezing friction that released several ropes of precum from my balls.

“I like it when you don’t wear panties, Mom,” I whispered, dropping down on her body and pressing my mouth to her left ear. She kept sucking the cock over my left shoulder, holding her right elbow out while she slid her left hand around my side and settled it on my back. “I don’t think I’m going to let you wear panties anymore.”

“Umm, umm, mmm, umm,” Mom moaned, her words garbled around the dick in her mouth.

I slid my hands down to Mom’s naked ass, grabbed ahold of her soft cheeks, squeezed them hard, and started fucking her incest-loving pussy without mercy. I moved my hands down her cheeks as she lifted her knees, her feet touching the sides of my thighs. My fingers brushed her outer pussy lips from the sides and then touched her inner fold. Her hole was wide open around my cock and stretched to its limits around my thickness.

Voices from those fuckers who had watched my mother play with herself came back to me. I grunted, “Tell me, Mom,” after a hard series of pussy pummels that had forced the dildo out of her mouth. “Tell me you’re my bitch.”

“Oh, fuck,” Mom gasped, the dildo falling from her hands, its silicone body thumping on the floor. “Oh, fuck, baby, I’m your bitch.” Mom wrapped her other right arm around me. “Baby, you fuck me so good.”

I pressed my cock deep into her, making her gasp, and I said, “This is my pussy.” I ground my dick inside of her, turning my hips in circles, the base of my cock straining against her mound as I corkscrewed my dick into my mother. “You’re my pussy, and no one else’s.”

“No one else’s, baby,” Mom whimpered, her voice breaking. “My pussy belongs to you.”

“Only me.”

“Only you, oh—fuck!”

I started fucking her hard. Mom came, her twat turning into a creamy mess of white froth. I kept it up, and as her orgasm ended, another one hit her, making her squeal and lock her ankles around my back. I kept pumping her twat, pounding her pussy into poi as my cock slid in and out of her tunnel. Her pussy’s grip had turned wetter but no less tight, and the tingles in my cock caused my shoulders to tremble as chills ran through my muscles.

“Oh, oh, god, fuck, oh fuck!” Mom whimpered and whined, her voice turning high-pitched as another orgasm shocked her system. Her eyes shut tight, her cheeks turned pink, and Mom let out a long sob as she started to cry.

“Oh, fuck yeah, Mom,” I panted. “Keep coming, Mom. Keep coming on my fucking dick.”

“No more, no more, no more,” Mom sobbed, real tears falling from the corners of her eyes.

I should have made her wear mascara.

“I’m almost there,” I said, my knob tingling as the sides of Mom’s pussy walls jerked me off.

I let go of my mother’s ass and pushed my hands beneath her legs. I grabbed the backs of her knees and pushed them upward, my body following her as I rose above her. I pushed my mother’s legs back to her tits. Her calves and feet pointed upward as I moved into a squat above her pussy. I bent my upper body above hers while keeping her knees to her chest and her legs on my shoulders. Her ass and lower back tilted upward off the bed, the new angle feeding more of her creamy cooze to my cock and giving me deeper penetration than before.

“Ohhhh, gawwwd,” Mom groaned as I filled her snatch to the brim, touching her guts in places where no cock had ever been before.

As I squatted above my mother’s pussy, I adjusted my stance, and she reached behind my neck, locking her fingers together. By the look in her tear-glazed eyes, she knew that she was in for a porn-style fucking that was about to break her pussy in two. She looked scared yet excited. Mom bit her lower lip as I pulled my cock back until only my glans remained within the vulnerable softness between her maternal thighs, and then I just started ramming...

Sometime later, lying next to me on the bed, Mom whispered, “Oh my god, my pussy is sore.” She sighed as she stretched her entire body. “I haven’t been fucked like that since ... since ... since ever.”

My right hand found Mom’s left hand, and I pulled it to my mouth and kissed the back of it. She purred, rubbing her thighs together as I sat up and swung my left knee over her waist, straddling her. Mom pulled my hand to her mouth, first kissing my fingers and then sucking my thumb between her lips when I pressed it to her flesh.

“Mom,” I whispered, “since your pussy is mine, and you’re my bitch”—my heart hammered against my chest, though my cock only inflated to a half-hard, floppy salami— “from now on, I want you to ask me for permission before you have sex with Dad.”

Mom’s eyes widened, then narrowed, and she sucked my thumb into her mouth before saying, “Okay, baby,” in a wet, muffled tone. Her eyes flickered to my cock. “But, let’s give that big boy a rest. I’ve earned a break from your dick.” She glanced at my half-stiff cock, her expression turning into a soft, hopeful plea. “Haven’t I?”

“Yeah,” I said as my cock strained to get fully hard—I had come too much already. “But I’ll see you later tonight.”

“Okay,” Mom said, releasing my thumb. “I’ll be ready.”

I left her room, grabbed our lunch, warmed it up, and brought it to my mother in her office. I found her as naked as I was, but I went back to my room for some rest.

Lots of rest.

I don’t know how my mother stayed awake to work, but she did. My eyes shut before I hit my bed, sending me off to a dreamland where my father and I smoked cigars and drank brandy while my mother danced for us atop a white-clothed table while wearing a fedora and satin lingerie. When I woke, it was past time for my father to be home, and I had missed a text from Jenna that read, I’m going to do it. OMG! Wish me luck!

That was hours ago. I knew she was going to put her dad to the decision today, and so, with a rising heartbeat, I texted her, Good luck. Love you. I whispered those words while I typed them. A smile spread across my lips when I felt the same warmth for Jenna that I always did. A man could love two women, for whatever reasons, but now I had to find a way to let Jenna in on my secret—with Mom’s permission.

One day, I told myself. Let’s wait until we’re married.

Fear hit me, followed by laughter. I rose from my bed to shower and change into a fresh pair of jeans and a body-hugging T-shirt. Jenna hadn’t returned my text, so I went downstairs with my phone in my pocket.

Dad was walking down the shortcut hallway with a glass of whiskey in his hand and a smile on his face. “It’s about time you got up,” he said, giving me the old wink and a gun hello. “I know this is your summer of fun—or laziness—and you’ve earned it, but try not to sleep all day long.”

I laughed and said, “I’m trying to get enough sleep for the both of us,” as I hit the landing.

“I have that covered,” Dad said, raising his glass of whiskey. “Two of these and a pill, and I’m out until morning.” He stopped. “When do summer workouts begin?”

“They’re optional,” I said, on my way to the kitchen, “but encouraged.” I didn’t want to think about sports. I was good at what I did, but Division I colleges weren’t looking at me. My athletic talent could earn me a walk-on somewhere, but that was about it.

“Then I’m encouraging you to get your butt to those workouts,” Dad said as he sat down on his favorite couch. “You can lounge about when you’re old.”

I laughed as I disappeared down the hallway.

I entered the kitchen, not seeing my mother from the hallway, but I could hear her moving things around in the refrigerator. I turned to the right, seeing Mom with her head in the fridge. A pale yellow summer dress adorned her body, the cotton thin with the illusion of transparency. Mom’s slender legs seemed to glow as they flowed from beneath the hem to her small feet. The dress’ neckline wrapped around Mom’s neck and hid her breasts, but it left her back, shoulders, and arms bare. She had worn her hair down tonight, and my cock twitched when I remembered how I had gathered her hair in a single rein to hold up her head.

“You know what’s strange,” I said. It wasn’t a question. “You no longer have to ask me how my day was. You already know.”

Mom smiled, turning her head toward me, and said, “Maybe it’s all that small talk that keeps most mothers and their sons from trying new things.”

I moved forward, coming up behind her and sliding my hands around her waist.

“Where’s your father?” Mom asked, bending forward, her ass pushing back at me as she reached for a single serving container of yogurt.

“Living room,” I said.

“Listen for him if you’re going to touch me.” Mom straightened her body and stepped back, walking me toward the kitchen island. “We don’t want to get into trouble.”

I hit the edge of the island and pulled Mom to me. She sighed as I slipped out from behind her and let her lean against the marble top. “I need a spoon,” she said. I opened the utensil drawer, grabbed one, and handed it to her as she peeled the foil covering from her container. “You hungry?”

Mom dipped her spoon into the yogurt and pulled out a small scoop. I stepped toward her, opening my mouth as she slid the spoon between my lips. I closed them, and she pulled the spoon away, leaving the cool yogurt in my mouth.

“Are you still hungry?” Mom asked.

I nodded my head, whispering, “Yeah.”

“Show me,” Mom whispered, leaning back against the island and stepping her right leg to the side. The angle of her body pushed her mound outward, and I lowered myself to my knees as my mother dipped her spoon back into the yogurt...

My mouth made wet sounds against my mother’s pussy lips. She continued leaning back, pushing her twat toward my mouth, her bright blonde pubes wet with spit and the cunny juice coating my tongue. She ate her yogurt, her eyes looking toward the shortcut hallway as she strained her head to my left, then turned her eyes toward the dining room, then back to the hallway, then the dining room, ever-moving as I pushed my tongue into her yummy pussyhole and licked her creamy, pink walls.

I tried to capture my mother’s eyes when I pressed the topside of my tongue against her smooth pearl, my mouth closing over her clitoral hood and the upper portion of her pussy lips above her pussyhole. I sucked. Mom trembled, her mouth twitching and her eyes narrowing, her lips pulling inward and outward into a sexy, pouty pucker. I ran my hands over the front of her thighs, then their sides, and around to her hamstrings, where I moved up to her ass and cupped her cheeks in my palms.

“Mmm,” Mom sighed as my fingers moved to her crack. “Ah.” My right hand went between her legs, feathering the curve of her muffin from behind. I loved how a woman’s pussy was made to be reached from all angles. “Ooh.” The middle finger of my left hand pressed against my mother’s rosebud, her pucker damp with sweat from the heat between her cheeks. “I think—I hear—your father!”

I could only hear the slurping of my mouth and tongue as I snacked on my mother’s snatch.

“Mark,” Mom whispered, putting her right hand in my hair and pushing hard against me.

My heartbeat rose. Mom’s breathing grew deeper—harder—stronger. Was Dad coming? Was my father about to catch us? What would he say if he found me on my knees, swallowing his wife’s twat? My cock hurt beneath my jeans, bending against the threaded fabric and straining my shaft as it tried to rip through the metal teeth of my zipper. Mom pushed harder against me, even humping her pussy into my mouth—trying to push me from the candy-like taste of her sweet muff.

“Am I cooking dinner?” Dad asked from around the dining room corner.

I stood, spun around, and opened the freezer-side door to the fridge. The stainless steel hid my body and the tent that had formed in my pants. Cool air hit me, chilling the sweat on my skin, and I widened my eyes, trying to find my focus as my heartbeat raced twice as hard as it had a second ago. I didn’t really want my father to catch us, did I? I’d love to share Mom with him—I loved my parents. Instead of searching my brain for an answer, I grabbed a piece of ice, stuck half of it in my mouth, and then wiped it across my lips and chin to wash my mother’s juices from my face.

Behind me, Dad was saying, “ ... I don’t know, but I could order a pizza. I’m one drink away from my pill, and I don’t feel like cooking.”

“Pizza is fine,” Mom said, speaking with a slightly higher pitch than normal.

“Pizza, Mark?” Dad asked.

“You know it,” I said as my bloated salami deflated in record time. “We should get one with everything on it.”

“Aw, to be young again,” Dad said. “I was such a stud! I could eat anything and stay as lean as a hound.”

I laughed and turned away from the fridge, nodding my head. “Sure you could,” I said. “I’ll be in the living room.” My eyes met Mom’s eyes for an instant. “We should turn the lights low and watch some movies.”

“That is a good idea,” Mom said, her voice catching and her nipples poking through her cotton dress.

I headed toward the living room as Dad said, “Sounds like a plan.”

Once on the couch, in the center seat next to where Mom would sit, I pulled out my phone, but Jenna hadn’t texted me again. I texted her, So, are you in therapy, or is your dad going to let me have that ass? I laughed, and I waited, but no response came by the time Mom and Dad joined me in the living room.

“Lights off, Dad?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said, drawing out the word, “that sounds about right.”

“Are we going to cuddle?” Mom asked Dad as he settled down on his couch.

Dad cringed and said, “I’d love to. But I have to take my pill soon.” He offered her a weak smile. “And if we cuddle, I’m going to want to stay up, if you know what I mean, and I need the sleep.”

“That’s great, Dad,” I said.

“Hey,” he said, winking at Mom, “if I have to hear about your fifteen-year-old girlfriend, then you can hear what I have to say. At least my dame is legal.”

“All right.” I laughed and tried not to look at Mom. “I’ll shut up.”

“Good lad,” Dad said.

“Fine,” Mom said. “I’ll cuddle with my son.” Mom turned toward me, hiding her face from dad as she slid her tongue across her lips.

“Cuddle?” I asked, groaning.

“Yeah,” Dad said. “You do that. You’re lucky, boy”—he looked at me— “when I was growing up, grown men didn’t cuddle with their mothers. We had to sneak in our hugs, and the more hugs you can get today, the more memories you’ll have when it’s too late to make new ones.”

“Words of wisdom,” Mom said, sitting down next to me. “So, don’t pout.”

“I don’t pout,” I said. “I’m a man.”

“Then don’t sulk,” Mom whispered. “Now, get over here and cuddle with your mother.”

Dad laughed, and I smiled, as did Mom. I drew my legs up onto the couch and slid behind my mother as she lay on her side in front of me. Dad used his magic remote to kill the lights throughout the house and close the blackout curtains. He flipped through channels and logged onto a streaming service, selecting a small but well-made, action-packed drama.

“This good?” Dad asked.

“Yeah,” I said.

Mom echoed me before the word had finished leaving my lips.

Dad hit PLAY, and we lay back in the near-darkness to watch.

“Grab the couch blanket,” Mom half-whispered to me, her voice low enough to raise my heartbeat but high enough to stay hidden from Dad’s ears.

Just another night, I thought, realizing that horniness had kept me from feeling the cool of the house. I pulled the thin blanket from atop the back of the couch and arranged it over Mom and me, my feet sticking out of the end, hers not. Once comfortable, I placed my hand on Mom’s side.

Mom pushed her butt against me, wiggling her ass into the tenting crotch of my jeans. I should have worn shorts, I thought, but it was too late now. I looked toward my father, unable to see his face, and knowing that he couldn’t see us, but there was something different about tonight. The excitement of getting caught had replaced my fear of getting caught. Releasing a long breath into Mom’s ear, I leaned down and pressed my lips to her lobe while squeezing her side.

Mom placed her hand on mine, squeezing my fingers, then she patted the back of my hand as if she knew how I felt. She’s as much mine as Dad’s, I thought. More so. I owned my mother’s pussy—not her heart—but her pussy. I thought, at that moment, that no matter what happened in our lives, Mom would always love me as much as Dad, never more and never less. Sharing my mother’s love with my father brought a smile to my face. Mom tugged upward on my hand, and I followed her command.

I let my hand run up my mother’s side, dragging her dress upward as I dipped down to caress her stomach. Its in-and-out movements gave away how excited she felt. I moved upward across her sternum, her heartbeat beating a quick rhythm against my palm as I pushed my fingers between her smallish breasts, her upper tit pressing into the thumb of my left hand. I moved back down then up, outlining the bottom of her left tit between the webbing of flesh running from my thumb to my forefinger. Mom released a shaky breath. I moved downward to do the same to her other tit. I wanted to do more, but we had a pizza coming, and my cock was already demanding that I lift my mother’s dress and push myself into the warm folds between her legs that I had recently claimed as my own.

I spent the next fifteen minutes caressing my mother, touching her side, her ribs, her thighs, and tracing the curve of her butt and the triangle between her legs, where heaven lay. Mom’s breathing rose, and she grabbed my hand, doing her best to move my fingers over her cunny and tits whenever I came close to them. She pouted once as I ran my fingertips over her mound but stopped short of molesting the lips below. I gave Mom a few humping motions, digging my cock into her ass but never going for the most sensitive spots on her body.

When the pizza arrived, two mediums, one full of meats, peppers, mushrooms, and onions, and the other covered in cheese, we paused our game to plate our food. Mom only ate a slice, and I didn’t want the pizza weighing me down, so I only ate three pieces. Dad ate four, two slices from each pizza, saying to me, “Watching your weight?”

“I’ll eat the rest later,” I said, smiling. “After I work up an appetite. I think I need to do some cardio before bed.”

“Don’t mess up your sleeping routine,” Dad said. “Eighteen or not, you’re not going to be up all night and asleep all day this summer.”

“If I could, I’d be up all night and all day.”

Mom uttered a surprised-sounding laugh.

I smiled.

We ate, and Dad finished his second glass of whiskey, then he said, “I can do one more and be safe.”

“Ritch,” Mom said, using that drawn-out, disapproving tone.

“I’m not even drunk, baby, don’t worry.” Dad smiled. “And, since tomorrow is Friday, I’m going to forgo my pills and show you the benefits of marrying an insomniac.”

I chuckled.

Mom smiled, and I thought, Will she ask me if she can fuck Dad? The thought made me look at my phone, but Jenna still hadn’t texted me. Interesting.

We finished, and Mom cleaned up, though my hard-on had gone down. I had said, “I’ll take care of the mess,” but Mom countered with, “No, I like doing things for my men.” I was one of Mom’s men, and the thought made my cheeks warm. We settled back into the couch and watched more TV—as a family. Dad sipped his whiskey and took his pill while I readied myself to molest my mother as my father lay in the room with us.

As soon as Dad had popped his pill and relaxed his head, I put my hand on my mother’s thigh below her dress. Her warm skin dampened my palm, and goosebumps rose against my fingers as I swept my touch upward beneath her dress. Mom pressed her ass against me, wiggling it left to right and back again, keeping her buns tight against my crotch. I slid my hand up to her hip and then to her waist, taking her dress with me and leaving her legs exposed beneath the blanket. My hand went backward after this, cupping her left butt cheek before pulling her dress up to her lower back, leaving her butt naked and at the mercy of my touch.

Dad yawned. Mom looked in his direction. Her next breath came deep and heavy as my fingers turned toward the cushions and dipped into her crack. I pulled upward, opening her cheeks and stretching her little asshole, my fingers slipping from her soft crescent when I couldn’t pull her ass open any further. Her cheek jiggled and rippled, and I moved my hand over her thigh toward her front.

Pubic hairs, damp with sweat, tickled my palm. I loved Mom’s hair. I wanted more of it, a nice triangular bush that felt like a teenager’s downy fuzz. I wanted to keep the edges of her mound hairless as well as the cunny meat from her clitoral hood on down. I remembered pictures on the internet of beautiful, blonde Scandinavian goddesses with wisps of blonde hair along their tan skin. Some had tiny hairs near their assholes, shining in the sun like golden threads reflecting the light. That’s what I wanted from Mom, just a little bit of hair, so small and spaced far enough apart that I had to search for them under the sunlight if I wanted to see them.