salutary Golly, Mrs. Mommy !

by DiscipleN


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You know how it is, when it 's your birthday, and you 've unwrapped your present, and you blow out the cd on your birthday cake, and everyone want you 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY ! !', and they sing songs and swat your derriere, except everyone is only your mother, and you want to fuck her to a greater extent than anything ? Well, I do n't worry if you think that 's messed up, or that I should cut off my scrotum and sew it into a bloody hand bag. When you consider what happened following, you would n't deal either !

'' dear, would you please fetch my mitt bag ? '' Mother smiled. She wiped a big clump of blister cream from the corner of her mouth and licked her digit. `` Just think, in a couple age, we 'll be able to celebrate with something more strong than chocolate cake and ice cream. ``

'' Sure mom. '' I reached for the midget imitation of a carpetbag sitting on the kitchen counter. I handed it over and watched her pry into its packed contents.

'' I 'm so glad you took that menage political economy class, your patty is delicious ! '' She was kind not to mention that whipped cream was an unusual icing for chocolate patty. She continued to mine her handbag. `` Here we go. '' Mother pulled her hand out of her feminine backpack and held up a condom.

'' Do you cognize what this is ? '' She gave me a stern look.

'' Yeah mom, it 's a rubber. '' What 'd she remember, that I was out of the closed circuit of ninety nine per centum of my high school, like fundamentalist christians who are n't allowed to use the letter'x'in case they might write a frightful, three letter Logos with it ?

'' Oh, pooh. '' Mom instantly sulked. `` I know we should take had this talk of the town Oklahoman, but now that you know, I guess you 'll be wanting to tug the car.

'' Mom, I got my license a class ago. '' Something Weird was going on with her. I peered closer at mom. She did n't look drunk, and I had n't seen her swallow anything except bottled water.

'' Really, and what would your Father of the Church say about that ? ``

To this astound input, I said nothing. My dad, her one and only hubby, was pushing down valkyries and tossing back beers in Valhalla. I believe I gaped.

'' Do n't sacrifice me that facial expression unseasoned man. What if you got into an stroke ? The family Desoto would be ruined, and your Father would n't be able to commute to process. Why, he 'd have to take the bus like one of those short, unfortunate Negroes. ``

'Negroes ?'I pushed my chair back and seriously considered laxation in my pants. Hell, black guys in the schooltime 's computer baseball club would serve my ass for tri-tip if I ever called them Negroid. And as for a Desoto, was n't he a Latin American middleweight ?

I burst out laughing. `` Right mom. That 's a dear one. ``

'' Hmmph ! You listen to me, young man. I 'll not throw you disesteem me like that. It may be your natal day, but you 're not too old to be sent to your way. ``

My wholehearted laugh caught in my pharynx and gagged me. I coughed and continued to cough. I could hardly breath with all that freaky in the room. Any secondly I expected Rod Serling to crawl out of the oven and apply me the Heimleck maneuver.

'' Off you go. You can reckon up there, about what I said, while I clean up this lot. Do n't forget to take your present tense. ``

Out of sheer mental rejection, I stood up, take hold of my gift certificate for Wal-Mart and my three new Gamera videodisc, walked out, up the stair, and into my room.

This had to be part of some secret patch to storm me on my natal day. I went over the day in my head, trying to detect a pattern.

I woke up, heard mom showering, and waited in my bed until she 'd get out our bathroom. My mind drifted, trying to opine my mother 's firm hips and quart sized breasts, their nipples swollen, water sweeping soap suds down her improbable, slim frame. I grabbed my botch and gave it a audacious wanking, wondering if mother ever wanked her, as I imagined it, puffed out clit. It 's a expectant way to get the day and offer clock time while the bathroom was occupied.

After my own shower, I met mom in the kitchen. She kissed me on the cheek and wished me happy natal day. I helped her make breakfast. My mom is n't the greatest cook. She 's more probable to wake a mailboat of second creamed cereal than whip up testicle florentine. We compromised and had scrambled testicle with my particular hash browns.

Yeah, I got plenty of kidding taking a plate Ec. class, but a couple girlfriend went out of their way to help oneself me, although I admit I was n't so weather as to ask any of them out. I did get an A in baking. So naturally, it went unsaid that I would be baking the birthday cake. I could think of null abnormal about my mom this morning.

I gave my mom a list of constituent to blame up at the store. She would meet me at noon, and I 'd use the school 's kitchen after my family. I already had permission. I did n't particularly like our own kitchen oven, it had a nasty habit of dropping 30 degree in the centre of a two hour chateaubriant.

When she met me at noon, she handed over an ice chest with all those toothsome coffee cake ingredients. She had n't spared any expense, gourmet cocoa sauce, dutch cocoa powder, bittersweet nightshade chocolate chips, organic flour, milk, egg, butter, whipping cream, cane saccharide, and real vanilla extract. Mom helped me lug the chest to the school kitchen wardrobe. It did n't fit my locker.

'' Good hazard, Hank. I 'm glad I wo n't be around to screw it up by accident. '' Mom grinned. She was totally competent as an jet engine machinist, but she employed kitchen tools with the same 'big twist'attitude as her work pecker.

There was nix odd about mom at luncheon time. The first heartbreak in my day came from an unexpected guidance. When the school bell finally rang, I dashed to the kitchen eager to craft some deep deep brown cake. I could sample the tender goodness, smell the warm, intoxicating perfume in my nous. It would be a long postponement while it baked.

It turned out to be a very longsighted hold. There, standing around the open air press and opened ice chest were six guys from the hockey game team. Their mouths were covered with dark sauce, and they pulled on the milk carton like they were partying at a kegger.

'' What the fuck ! That was suppose to be my birthday patty. '' I screamed at them. I did n't acknowledge I had it in me.

The biggest one of them looked my way and chuckled. `` well-chosen birthday twerp. You 're welcome to whatever 's left. ``

'' Sorry. '' Another turned to me and grinned. The other four grinned and said 'likewise'down the line. They all burst out laughing. Daring me to present them more. I stood there simultaneously furious and lapidify with fear.

Having finished raiding the 'good bits'in the ice dresser, they filed past me, laughing all the way out the room access. The last one cracked an egg over my head. He had the nerve to explain the obvious.

'' Loser, we 're jocks. When we see an opportunity, we take it. Malcolm spied you lugging the chest in here and overheard you say chocolate to that old broad. Your mum, eh ? Not a bad ravisher for individual who had a boy as ugly as you. ``

The door slammed behind me, my body quivering from their baleful subtext. Egg Caucasian dripped down my wind. I think I had a fit then. The prompt afterward is a fuzz in my remembering. I jumped up and hollered, cursing them. I cursed myself more. After washing my head in a sink I took stocktaking of what was left : three ball, whipping cream, butter, and a sack of flour evidently used in a secret plan of haul. Even the vanilla bottleful was missing. One of them must have been able to take the discussion inebriant on the recording label. I was upset, but I was n't devastated. I prowled around the kitchen looking for something, anything that might help me get a grip. In the far corner of the same loo I found a composition board box of old food stuffs.

about schoolhouse do n't offer cooking classes anymore, but Mammoth H.S. was as slow to change as it 's mascot. The stuff I discovered must have been collected over the age, things that normally would n't go bad. Baking soda, navy beans, assorted spice ( probably flavorless ), dried mushrooms, powdered boodle, and a few box mixes for stuffing, baking chicken, and flavoring sloppy joes. At the very bottom, I noticed an ancient looking logo for `` Aunty Rocker 's Old Nick 's intellectual nourishment cake ''. It was an old box mix for chocolate cake.

The appointment stamp on it ... sin, there was n't a day of the month tender on it. The trademark date for the logo said 1947. I did n't care. Two hours later, I returned home, ready to celebrate my birthday. The simply thing that bugged me was, mother did n't look to notice the difference between one of my modern oven wonders and this trite simulacrum to a cleaning lady 's shoes in the home. She had two helpings. I carved a narrow slice but could n't swallow to a greater extent than a few chomp of it 's sawdust like consistency. I begged baker 's snacking as an alibi for being full. I did notice mom 's supernumerary helping of whipped ointment and ice emollient with each piece. Perhaps she was just being polite.

That 's when she pulled out the condom. Shit, I exclaimed to myself as I entered my way. I poisoned my own mother with fossilize cake mix ! All those chemical stabiliser and texturizers and artificial flavors and gloss must have combined into a hella-psychoactive drug ! I 'd amend address the MD !

Right, and separate her what ? mummy 's acting like a sourpuss ? She 's delirious, under the influence of bad cake ? I 'd hate the see the doctor 's bill for that pinch headphone call. All I could do was sit on my bed and cross my fingers, hoping her immune scheme would fight off the chemicals.

A couple hours later, ennui and a genuine concern about my female parent forced me out of my room. I had n't heard a peek from mom since she 'd place me to leave. I found her in the animation room, sitting straight up on the lounge, staring at the curtains like a prairie dog.

When she heard me sit down beside her, she blinked. `` I 'm afraid your father must be delayed at oeuvre. '' She patted my knee and tried to look consoling.

'' Mom, dad died three eld ago. '' I chose to remind her. I thought maybe I could break down her out of it, but my own memory of his red welled up in my heart.

She simply stared blankly, neither at me nor the window curtain. It was like I 'd turned off a automaton. I sat with her for what seemed like an hour, but she did n't be active.

Eventually, I started to get horny. This is not as absurd as it sounds. If I did n't get horny at to the lowest degree three times a day, I 'd sense like my hormonal balance had begun it 's deadening decline into middle-age.

I found myself staring at my female parent 's tits. She still had n't moved. I fingered the growing tent in my pants, trying to agitate it flat behind the zip fastener. When she did n't look at notice, I took a effective look. I leaned in closer, trying to see through her top. Was that a tip of a non-white circle behind her bra ? My fingering became a light tapping. The cock in my pants had begun it 's Death march. I knew I 'd have to bluster a wad soon, or I 'd be in blue ballock hell. Mother did n't move a muscle.

I touched her arm, but she did n't respond. Her skin felt terribly lovesome, as if she were running a feverishness. I placed the dorsum of my bridge player to her forehead. It was hot. I felt a light sweat on her brow. I noticed her face glistening like a perfect, porcelain chick. I could n't hold out. I reached my arm around behind her and brushed the far face of her plow breast. My stopcock did a dance in my pants, but it did n't tear. I was n't that close. I felt her move then. She looked up first and then at my obtrude upon hand. Then her straits swiveled back and her eyes met mine.

'' Oh honey, I have a terrible headache. Maybe we can do this another time. '' That said, she smiled, stood up, and walked away, up the stair to her sleeping room. I was the one who did n't move then. My mind was flooded with incredible ideas, and my peter thrilled at every one. When I heard her door close, I opened my pants and released the throbbing beast that commanded me. After several brave jerks on my prick, I shot fourteen tablespoons of sperm cell into the carpet.

The next aurora, I was capable to get into the exhibitor first. When I went down to the kitchen, mother was n't anywhere below. inferno, she 's going to be recent for workplace. I had almost forgotten the night before. I raced upstairs to her bedroom and pounded on the doorway !

'' Hhuhnn ? '' I heard a weakly reply. I turned the knob and opened the door just a crack. mother was lying in bed, arms and legs askew, her partially opened skirt and shirt clung half on to her body. My hawkshaw instantly responded. I stepped inside. `` Mom ? Are you okay ? ``

'' Oooohhhhh, I have the worst vexation ! '' She tried to rise, but failed. Her half cover up underwear caught my tending for more than a few seconds.

'' I 'll get you some ibuprofen. '' I rushed back to the bathroom and pulled the feeding bottle from a shelf. I filled a rinse chicken feed and brought them both to her. I had to bung the tablets into her sass and hold the methamphetamine hydrochloride up to her rim. I sneaked another peek at her chest. There really were saturnine rophy seeable through her bra.

'' My arms feel like dead free weight, and my tummy is fluttering. How much did I drink last dark ? ``

`` Are you kidding ! '' I gulped and nearly told her she had n't drank a drop.

'' What happened ? I must have been blitzed. Oh Hank, I hope I did n't ruin your birthday. ''

'' You do n't remember ? ``

'' The stopping point thing I remember was you blowing out your candles. ``

'' I-I had a g-great time, mom. You just got a short carried away. '' I improvised. Some of those ideas from endure night were filtering back into my head. All of them had to do with what she 'd said. 'Maybe we can do this another time .'

Already, I was telling myself that my mother was n't all that worse for the patty she 'd eaten. She looked better and comfortably the more I looked at her.

'' Oh, I 'm going to be late for work. You 'd amend scram to school. I 'll be fine. Just snatch something quick for luncheon, and I 'll see you tonight. Have a great day, my adult boy. '' She smiled then, quite unaware that I was growing dandy lengths in the presence of her disarrayed clothing. I could even see a corner of her livid cotton fiber panties. Only with majuscule rue did I leave mom and rush off to school. Before I left, I checked the refrigerator to make sure the eternal sleep of the chocolate bar had been saved. It had.

I returned family, I swear, before the school campana finished ringing. At showtime I thought I 'd entered the amiss sign. A pelage rack I 'd never seen before greeted me at the door. There were pink throw pillows on the couch, and various orderly run-in of collector dinner party scale had been attached to the far wall. The situation was spotless. We never lived in squalor, but the considerably you could call mom 's and my lifestyle would be 'casual'. The furniture was rearranged, and there were plastic ocean liner on the recliner and couch. Whoa, what kind of maid service had mom hired this month ?

I entered in a flummox fog, not paying aid to subtle sound and smells emanating from the kitchen. My home had shifted into the interchange dimension of some Black person and Edward White sitcom ! I hung my packsack on the pelage rack and took off my wind-breaker. I let it fall down to the trading floor. The front line doorway remained open behind me.

'' dear, are you home plate ? '' female parent sang tunefully from the kitchen. Then the smelling hit me.

'' Mom, are you cooking ? What is that foul ... ''

'' It 's fish. Fri is fried fish, remember ? ``

She must bear been trying to make deep fried sushi from rusted cans of tunny cat nutrient. Mother appeared, smiling, at the threshold. A frilly apparel with pleats and level covered her from shoulders to ankle. It 's pastel green clashed with the living room 's deep purpleness, oriental rug. She stepped over to me quickly and planted a solid hatful on my cheek.

'' It 's been a farseeing day without the man around the mansion. But I managed to fulfill the clock time. How was your day, hon ? ``

'' Mom, did you eat any of my birthday cake today ? ``

Mom gave me a surprised looking. `` Oh, I guess you caught me, ha ha. I doubt Hank likes the cake he made. What could equate to a mother 's family cooking ? I wondered why he did n't cut a slice before he ran out this morning. I figured it was fair game after that. ``

Hank ? one-third person ? What was I, tuna fish ? The smell was oppressing my ability to cogitate clearly.

'' Uh, that 's okay, mom. What 's for dinner ? ``

'' You must be famished after a hard day at the position, poor thing. I 'll get your skidder while you sit and relax. How about an supererogatory dry martini ? '' My mother kept smiling cheerfully as she darted around the room, patting the recliner, checking the closet for slippers that were n't there.

'' Here they are. '' She pulled out a brand new pair and fetched them over like a dog felicitous to greet its superior. `` I made you your favorite, dearest, Opuntia tuna casserole with American cheese. ``

Oh diddly-squat, she thought I was her husband ! ( Not my father, but some fictitious icon of a husband. ) Oh roll in the hay. Crap ! What am I going to ... Oh ... PING ! ! ! Oh ?

Now my brain had something to facilitate fight down the cruddy smell in the house. That something was my erect rooster ! The Epiphany which hit me then convinced me that my private luxuria 's time had come. As the husband of a properly obedient wife, I could write my own scenarios and female parent would be my barrack actress.

'' Um, do n't bother with the booze, er, honey. I 'll just sit and call up, while you finish in the kitchen. '' I took my piazza in our plush recliner. The plastic immediately molded to my vertebral column and clung to every column inch of scupper peel. Right away, it made me itch.

Mother knelt down before me and began untying the lace on my tennis shoe. I could see her segmentation, her full backtalk, her cheerful heart. I lost it then. My prick could take only so much. I unzipped my pants and fished out it 's full distance through my jockey shorts.

Mother looked up and freeze out. What was this ?

If I had guessed right, sex was n't even a thought in her school principal. It never existed before the sixties, at least in her mind. How could she object to something that was morally neutral ? If holding up a condom was her entire lecture about homo sexuality, then she was begging for some serious subject. Words of Brobdingnagian wisdom returned to me from the premature day, 'When you see an chance, take it .'

I took.

I took my mom 's surprised head with its spread out mouth and planted it over my stiff bang tool !

'' Do n't mind me, honey. This will be far more unbend than a martini ! '' I cried.

I began using her chief to masturbate my pulsing cock. It was depict time ! I was so aroused and joyful at my audacity, I did n't think the thousand unpleasant and even life-threatening ways my female parent could react.

For the initiative ten or so poundings of her face to my prick, she remained flash-frozen. She began to melt as I continued to do it my cock into her jaws. Her mouth softened and her glossa began to lick the under-shaft. The tip of it tickled my Ball at full insertion.

'' That 's right mommy, get a good gustatory sensation of your boy 's cock. He 's had a tough day at school. '' I stopped acting like her notional husband on aim. I wanted to roll in the hay my mom as her son, no thing how psychedelically her brain had been fried. My hips pushed more cock into mother 's mouth.

I felt her head move on it 's own volition. Her plump rim seared across my shaft quickening its pulsing, my pulse. My hand relaxed and there we were fully engaged in concentrated pumping and suction, time ticking down swifter and swifter. My ball lurched and churned. brawniness contracted and sperm leapt.

'' Oh, mom, do n't let go. Swallow it, every shot, thaaaa, uuunnnggghhhh ! Aaaaahhhhhggg ! ! '' Vulcanized cum blasted from my peter and seared her throat. Jet after jet scored into her mouth. mother 's mouth sucked and gulped, my fully putz poured its cumload down to her belly, jerking over and over until muscles failed and balls ran dry. I held her head teacher and gasped for breath. I could hear air roar out of her nostrils. She could barely breathe.

Pulling my softening cock from her mouth, I told her, `` You 're a peach, honey. '' It was the first corny line I could remember from 'My Three top hat'or whatever that show was called.

Her smiling was n't the Lapp, but I 'd give it an A for campaign. She blinked and looked a bit bewildered, but whatever that cake did to my mom, it sure was in effect. sunlight peered around her shadow of doubt and lit my lower consistency. She actually kissed the position of my cockhead as if it had a cheek.

'' Dinner will be ready in five bit. '' She reassured me.

In five minutes, my cock would be cook. I eventually wandered into the kitchen and took my shoes at the head of the table. The food was horrific ! Imagine Opuntia tuna fish mixed with mayonnaise stirred into one-half cooked pasta and dried peas. Now add a layer of unreal jaundiced pavement across the top and you end up with give way utensils and no appetite. The green beans on the face were brown and mushy. The potato could bear been used as a wheel stop, and the Milk, even the frigging Milk tasted it like it had been pissed in.

'' What did you do with the milk, mom ? '' I asked as I ran to the sink to flush the quietus down the sink, rinse the glass, and fill it. cesspool piddle tasted improve than that milk.

'' Oh dearest, is it bad ? I guess I must have left it in the sun while I was preparing supper.

'' When did you cook supper. ``

'' Right after luncheon. Are you ready for dessert ? ``

My cake ! I rushed to the refrigerator, but the bar was n't there. Suddenly through the thin gage in the kitchen, I noticed a peculiar, dessert, burning odour mixed with the rest of my female parent 's effort at making phosgene gas. The oven !

A urarthritis of fastball poured out as I foolishly grabbed the hot sail supporting what was left of my cake. `` AAAHHH ! '' I screamed when the sheet seared my fingers.

'' Oh honey, let me get some butter for that. '' Mother rose delicately and searched the refrigerator. `` I thought the patty would be more Delicious warm. ``

Unfaltering, I snagged a towel and finally rescued the patty. It was covered in charred whipped cream. I despaired to the compass point of tears as I set the smoking half rotary of cake on the counter.

mother reached me and began to cool off my blister fingers with the butter.

Paying her no mind, I took a knife and scraped off the charcoal coating. To my huge embossment, the cake beneath was okay. `` Um, mom ? ``

'' Yes dear ? '' Her grin beamed once again.

'' Let 's save the cake for tomorrow. '' I hugged her then. My lips found hers and kissed them fully. I even tried to stick my clapper into her mouth. My cock was set up for one shot two.

mother pulled away from me, and she slapped me playfully on the shoulder joint. `` Really, honey you ought to behave. I have such a headache. Maybe we can do this another time. ''

I wish I had raped her then. We were down to half a cake.


-- -- -- split -- -- --


The adjacent morning time, I could n't separate if mom was spoiled off for the drug. She had looked so devastated the day before.

'' Mom are you all right ? ``

'' Oh, Hank, did you get the number of that truck ? '' She was holding her heading and teetering in the bed. Her only clothing were step-in and a bra. The lodge dress lay on the story next to the bed.

'' Let me aid you in the cascade. '' I suggested.

She swatted my hands away. `` I 'm not decent sport, better clear out. How could I have gotten so wasted a second day in a row. Did I even go into work yesterday ? ``

I answered her from the doorway. `` I think you slept all day. Maybe you 've caught some eldritch bug, mom. Are n't you glad it 's Sat ? ``

'' Sick on a weekend ? Crud. punter stay clear, Hank. I would n't want you to catch this thing. There 's a rolls-royce turbofan on afterburner incinerating the inside of my skull.

Closing the door to a discreet, hairline crack, I called to her. `` How 's your appetite ? ``

'' My mouth feeling like it sucked co ..., er pickles, all night long. I do n't want anything. gain yourself something. '' Then sonant, `` Maybe a shower is the right thing. ``

I heard her drag herself off the bed. I hightailed it into the kitchen.

When the shower turned off, I gave mom ten minutes to dry herself and dress. I returned to her door and knocked.

'' flavor better ? ``

'' A little bit. ``

I opened the room access and peered in.

'' Hey ! Do n't come in ! ``

There was my mom. She 'd just put on her panty and was fumbling with her bra. Her soft tits hung off her chest like two small cantaloupe. No wonder I was in lust with my female parent. I associated underweight breast with anorectic and fat tit with either obesity or silicone. Mom 's were double-dyed for me, her nipples were also sized in dark moderation. That was all I could glean before pulling back behind the door.

My cock raged to disturb them. `` Hey mom, maybe a quick chomp before you begin your day. '' Without looking inside again, I set down on the carpet, the saucer I had been carrying and slid it through the opening. I placed a refreshing shabu of milk, from a new cartonful, just inside the door.

'' patty ? '' Mom wondered aloud. `` For breakfast ? ``

'' Yeah, mom, I even made refreshed slash emollient. The master copy pick did n't keep very well. '' I had more clobber waiting for her, inside my pants.

'' You did n't receive to fuss yourself. My tum is still kinda queazy. ``

Drat ! She was n't going to fall for it.

'' Oh, maybe just a snack. A little sugar might energise my appetite. I tell you every clip you 're sick that a niggling food for thought hold back your metabolism stiff. It 's clip to take my own advice. ``

'' YES ! '' I yelled silently. I heard the fork rattle on the dish. She was still shaky from her 'hangover'.

For the low gear time, I would be able to measure how retentive the cake took to invoke it 's consequence. I doubted I could wait very long without grabbing my tool and shooting a few forget me drug of cum through my mother 's room access, but I steeled myself for the effort.

It took exactly fifteen minutes.

'' Hank, you 'd better not be late for school again, or I 'll deliver to have a talk with your teacher ! Do n't bury to bring your report straight to me. I 'll have a asterisk waiting for every'A'. ''

It was all I needed to hear. She was back to living a five day workweek. I rushed inside the bedroom. She stood radiant in her blue, pink flower bespeckled, house dress. Even her tomentum had magically transformed itself into a piled bouffant. I tackled her in the middle of her elbow room and drove her back down upon the bed.

'' What in clemency 's epithet ? '' She cried out.

I fumbled for my dick, pushing my pants down my legs. I straightened up and gave her a good look at my rearing organ.

Just like the previous night, she froze, this time spread eagle across her bed, legs dangling over the position. I lifted her clothes above her thighs and revealed her blanched scanty. I pulled them down off of her ramification and leaped on top of her.

'' My good, what is all this ? '' She sputtered, staring wildly at the ceiling.

My cockhead found her pussy, but it did n't slip in. She was dry. Reaching between us, I aimed my cock where I thought cunt was, and I thrust myself inside her.

'' Ooowww ! Hank, are you surely you 're not going to be late for school ! ``

'' Mom, you sure may be late for your time period ! '' I answered with a roar and fucked hard shaft into unwilling pussy. It was hard on me too. Her dry cunt scoured my penis, but I did n't care. I was finally fucking my mother.

'' Oohh, it 's so good, female parent ! I can hardly wait to satiate your insides with my backed-up load of sperm ! ''

'' That 's O.K., beloved. I 'll houseclean up the mess in the kitchen. You just run along. ``

I was running, running my engorged prick inside and out of the cakehole where I was born. My luxuria repel me like a sprinter. I could feel her cunt handing over Menachem Begin to lubricate. Her ardent folds massaged my cock like no oral fissure ever could. Our frictioning tissue were soon bathed in mamma twat juices and son prick pre-cum.

'' This is great mom ! I 'm fucking you so with child ! '' I could n't trust it. I was raping my own mother, and she did n't have a hint about what I was doing to her. Whatever that cake had, it was better than any date rapine drug I 'd ever listen of. My tool plunged with hilarity. My body was already sweating and twitching. My nerves ramped up their delight force faster than ever.

'' Yes, you go right ahead and collect your things. Do you involve mommy to beat back you to school day ? '' I felt her pushing back with her coxa. cunt sucked hammer deeper with every thrust. `` Oh dear, what 's that ? '' My mother suddenly cried out. Her son knew before she did.

My totally body detected the initiative spasms of her own natural reaction. She was getting ready to blow too. If only I could make it finish, but my long repressed lusts could be delayed no further.

'' I really need to vacuum around here ! '' female parent yelled ecstatically.

My peter was bursting to plant seed into its place of stemma. I could finger the undulation of my orgasm rush up from my shaft and down from my brain, filling my arms and legs and exploding out from my center.

'' I 'm cumming, mom, I 'm UUUNNNNGGGGHHHH ! ! ! COMMMING ! ! ! ! '' My cum rushed out from my chunk and blasted the walls of her cunt, forcing jism through the iris diaphragm of her uterine cervix.

'' Huh-HUH, UUUHHHGGG, 'urry up, son ! ! ! '' She screamed then. I could feel her cunt contracting and sucking each jerking of incestuous ointment into her womb. `` We do n't require to be LAAAAHHHH-ate ! '' Her sleeve wrapped around me and hugged me hard against her tits.

Even as I continued to cum, I was tearing at the top of her dress, revealing her bra and working to unblock her tits. I sucked on them like a mad motherfucker.

'' Ohhh, ooohh, '' Mother began to cool off down. `` Honestly, Hank, this is not the meter to be fooling around ! My whisker, it must look a-fright. What ever am I going to do with you ? ``

'' I think you should suck on my dick. '' I stopped engorging my side on her mamilla and crawled up over her ruined house dress. When my human knee reached her shoulder joint, I fed wet essence into her lost afirmament. She sucked.

We spent entire day worshiping my cock. I fucked, sucked, blew, screwed, and spewed into my gorgeous mother until she was black and blue. I shot load after load of salty, hot pick into her baby maker until my testicle went numb from the feat and my cock could n't guard Sir Thomas More than an inch upright.

The adjacent morning was the Sami, except she woke up with an even worse headache and had bruise all over her body. I told her she needed to see a doctor. I lied to her about an appointment, but before we left I offered her another slice of patty. We never made it out the room access. In fact I even convinced her I was the sick one, and she wrote an self-justification to be absent from shoal for a whole week.

The day after the first rape of my mother, I eased back my fervor and was more careful about leaving telltale marks. I did leave my day 's output of incestuous sperm in her belly.

We repeated our picayune play every day for the rest of the week. I did n't try to cheat myself. I cut the same size of cake cut each time. It was going to run out eventually, and I did n't want her to be only half drugged. She had every right to haul my ass off to jug and defy my cellmates to plant their seed inside me. Oh no !

When the utmost slice was consumed and consummated, I went back to a strict diet of whacking off but with better memories to cum over. It took a couple weeks before I could endure to contain the cake platter out of the fridge. ( I told you our house was n't the tidiest. )

female parent was writing something in her proletarian 's maintenance journal at the kitchen table. I could n't stop myself. I set the platter on the counter and walked up behind her. I reached around her waist to cup her tits, wanting to massage them one last fourth dimension.

Mother spun around, and she slapped my human face, hard ! `` Hank ! We may live in a fairly costless thinking, modern world, but everything has it 's demarcation line. '' She scolded me sternly. That 's when I knew it was over. I took the empty cake plateful to the swallow hole. Mother shook her head. She probably felt bad about having to react so harshly.

'' I 'm drear to say it, Hank, but I 'm glad that cake is finally gone. I do n't think it was very just for me. '' She patting the slight but steadily growing gibbousness in her midsection. `` I thought I 'd recovered from that terrible unwellness, but recently I 've been waking up mad to my breadbasket. It 's almost as if ... ''

'' No, I 'm sorry, mom. '' I interrupted her as I scraped crumbs into a sealable sandwich bag. `` I can name a in force patty than this one. '' I sneaked the bag into my sack. Tonight I 'd hide them far in the book binding of the deep freezer. `` Who knows mom ? When I begin college succeeding yr, maybe I 'll larn all form of arcanum in organic chemistry. ''