Candy Finds Her Son Handy & Dandy

I knew that by a slow build up, a lingering lengthened climb to her climaxes, would garner the greater overwhelming release. The more wending the ascent, the better her tumble over the peak would produce multiples of orgasms, the waves of paroxysms that would parade from her womanhood. To this ultimate consummation only was I dedicated, with no ulterior desires, save her ecstasy.

But as I have afore mentioned and imparted to my listeners, she had to have cock after her cunt was eaten. By my chivalry, was she saved from the destiny of that incestuous concupiscence earlier, when I restrained myself and restrained my raw lust from ravaging her? But now there was nothing to salvage my own honor when she reached crisis and cried out in desperate delirium, "Put it in! Give it to me! Yes! Please! Put it all the way in. Fuck me, Honey; put it in me and . . . ffuucckk mmeee!" The echo of earlier was not lost on me, the meaning of her plaintive plea.

Like with her father, it was a command of lust sure, but love as well certainly, as the instant of ecstasy turned almost to agony. I was the angel of mercy to sooth the demonic demand her tortured body craved, no matter how depraved. The look in her eyes and the nod of her head was indicating she knew what our consummation meant. Still I hesitated. She was telling me, through those silent signs of assent that it was okay to fuck her, that she had allowed the escalation and was acquiescent with, even welcomed the consequences of the ensuing aftermath of our consanguine copulation. Finally I could not resist the deepest urges of my libido.

Green light was lit, the go given, the flag waved, the rev-ing of engines had roared, and now the brakes were off and the gas was stomped and the gears were shifted; the wheels of incest rolled, the clutch – the clinch – was engaged. We were now in the race for real. Faces like dials, instruments of sexual throbbing machines. The speed and movement of our chassis's was read on the looks that passed between us, as our beings merged into one, with perfect erotic mobilization. The thrust and penetration was smooth and swift and cycled rapidly; the back and forth, in and out, up and down, forward – reverse, motion of synchronized parts. All that mechanization couldn't begin to provide an adequate depiction of the zillion nerve endings that thrilled to the flesh in flesh flashing in instant but endless ecstasy together.

Now all the while, as I pounded my prick in the sanctuary of my sweet mother; the very demure lady of the family dinner table, the most modest of hostesses, the church going matron of our neighborhood; was letting loose a cacophony of bawdy language that seemed more likely from a trollop in a whorehouse than a Midwestern housewife of more moderate manners. "Yeah! Boy! Give me that damn cock in my fuckin' cunt! Bang me, Hard, more, I need it – that's so goddamnfuckin' goood! Shit you're big! Oh yeah, I got to have it, I'm so hot, hotter that hell, Jeez! Give me all your fuckin' dick in my poor little pussy! Harder deeper, uuh . . ahh! Yeah! Just like that in me – in me - - MAKE ME CUM BABE – FUCK MEE!" The more we screwed the more of the same!

I had never heard such a stream of wild and raunchy talk from the orifice of the woman who once washed out my mouth with soap, for having let 'shit' escape from my lips in polite company, when we had been guests at somebody's house. The taste of soap is never forgotten when so administered. But the bitch in bed with me, chewed up the unexpurgated dictionary and spat out the words like she was a preacher on a rant about the devil and sin – only she was in the midst of demonstrating the very desecration of morality, of course. Honestly, it was a turn-on to hear her spew such nasty and profane utterances, earthy, dirty and even filthy words; I loved her all the more for them.

Like a tornado, the whirlwind of lust and unleashed sensual delights lifted us into the dizzying dazzling of both emotional and sensory spinning, then sucked us back as a vortex of physical need for sexual gratification, the painful ache to achieve orgasm. The heightened intensity of the moment, of being with the most yearned for and most forbidden, but more deserved and yes greatest loved - while granted, lusted after too – person in our lives, was too wild and wondrous to absorb at the time. Only after in reflection can my words even begin to convey the rapture and transcendent nature of that uniting. Candy – the actress/role/icon – sought the meaning of the physical and spiritual bonding of sex and discovered that the ultimate mate was her own flesh and blood. "Daddy!"

But I was crying "Mommy!" as the gush-rush of jism jolted out the end of my nozzle injecting the cream in the Candy center. The hot surgery sauce of icing, my frothy topping of sweet sex with my mother, my lover, finally and fully and filled with the offering of her son's semen. How generous was her gift of our coupling, the granting of her erotic dance and seductive allurement nude upon the stage of her mattress, played out to the end of the completion of our communion in both mind and bodies. She knew what she was doing and what it was doing to me, and what the natural consequences of those actions would lead to. And yet, she did, and we did.

Candy – the mother/ who was real/ but idolized by her son – provided the meaning of our physical and emotional bonding of incestuous sex, when, as we mated, flesh and fluids mixing as we fucked, grabbed my buns in her hands and as I let go inside her pulled me even tighter and deeper and cried, "Baby!" Her legs up, knees bent, pelvis tilted to insure the penis had maximum penetration in her vagina and was socked right to the very mouth of her uterus, for best chance at procreative projection at the moment of truth. The dearest and most darling, generous and supportive woman, ideal and perfect, lovely lady had made love with me. My fantasy cum true. Now I could move on with my life, find a wife, make Candy a grandmother; - though not necessarily right away!

I rolled off her and collected our goblets, passing a wine glass to mom. We both took long pulls on the chilled alcohol. For some moments we just looked at one another, with smirks and smiles and loving gazes, as we sipped. Then I had to ask, "Okay, mom why did you let me . . allow us to do it after all? Before you were so determined that we shouldn't, and yet when the moment came and you begged me - yet I still hesitated – but you not only were giving me permission, but seemed to be insisting that I make love to you. So what changed?"

"Well, I first of all realized that it wasn't fair to you, knowing I had the chance to share terrific sex with my dad, but denying that same delightful and special experience to you. Then again, while both my pop and mom were still quite active sexually at that point, your dad and I are not so much. I needed more than what his attentions have been lately and you are handy, as well as lusting after me in any case. That was the second reason.

The third is that all the near . . misses (Mrs.?) that we have been having, well, they whetted my appetite. I got not only wet but my desires were sharpened to the point that I needed, had to have a good fuck, and did you ever deliver that for your sweet momma!! Those were enough to turn things around, but there is one more."

"The last is sort of more a hopeful possibility. That if it ever comes out, if your father ever discovers our indiscretion; then perhaps it will be as much a turn on as when he learned about me and daddy. After all, your hankering after mommy, your Oedipus complex, is not all that much of a secret. If I know about it, so does your dad too, neither of us is blind to the signs of your lusting for me. In fact, we have discussed your feelings on occasion, but I never suggested that I might give into your wanting me. But it did sort to peak your father's interest, perhaps even perked up his peter for the evening when we talked about it."

"So maybe the 'eggs-tasy'-hitting-the-fan, if your pop ever caught on to our occasional liaison, wouldn't be so messy; might be more inspirational, 'in-spire the sire' if you will!"

Which meant to me, that this time in the sack would not be a onetime only affair – it certainly was an 'affair to remember'! But also one that would be carried on with Candy for quite some time to come, and some cums to have at times when Candy would be willing to carry on, with me - her son! Which reminded me of the promise I'd made, to try to think of some way to renew the romance in my parents relationship? After all, I did love dad and didn't want to have him not enjoy the wonderful woman he had married. Since after all, now I got to share her sometimes too!

"Mom, I did come up with a new fresh ad campaign for you. To get dad reinvigorated about getting it on with you. The new lingerie and that dance you did would melt any man's heart and stiffen his hard-on. But I think that I have thought up the perfect slogan for you."

"Okay, I'm ready, what has your creative brain brewed up?"

"Lickitysplit!"

"Lickitysplit?"

"Yeah! As well as the romantic evening with your sexy dance, and the candles and wine; we make a sign for the bedroom, a poster which says . . ." I described my idea. This is the way it appeared.

What's the thing I love best of sex?
Lickitysplit!
How can you best make me cum?
Lickitysplit!
How fast will I have an orgasm?
Lickitysplit!
How can you best get me to fuck?
Lickitysplit!
Lickitysplit!
Lickitysplit!
Until I beg for it!

It worked, when he returned home to mom's sugar-seduction, dad was certainly rejuvenated. He was like . . . well, like a kid in a Candy store!