Truckin' mom

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Mom gets back at a roving dad through her son.
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It promised to be one of those hot, muggy days such as you can only get in the valley, and I was sweating before I even reached the kitchen. I popped a soft drink from the refrigerator, stepped through the door to the patio, and stopped dead in my tracks.

There, not ten feet in front of me, my young mother was down on her hands and knees, scooping leaves out of the swimming pool, with her pert ass thrust provocatively up in the air. She was wearing the bottom of a persimmon-colored bikini and a loose-fitting, white tee shirt that swooped way down. The outline of her cunt was painfully obvious where the material of the bikini had snugged up against it and, gazing at her from the rear as I was, I could see her breasts hanging down, like ripe fruit, in the subdued light of the tee shirt.

My jeans started becoming intensely uncomfortable as my cock swelled in appreciation of that tantalizing view, and I knew there was nothing for it ... I had to cum.

As quietly as I could, I stepped back through the door, set the soft drink on the counter, and took the stairs two-at-a-time. The image of that persimmon-colored pussy seemed to be burned into my retinae and, very suddenly, the idea of plowing my prick into it - long and hard and often - was the only thing I could think of.

I stepped into the bathroom quietly and had my prick in my hand even before I closed the door. I leaned against the sink and closed my eyes, trying to recall every curve and hollow of that beautiful ass, trying to remember every nuance of light and shadow on those mar-velous tits, trying to imagine what the warmth and texture of that slit would feel like as my rock hard shaft slid into it. Slowly, teasingly, I began stroking my cock.

Oh, man, to be pushing through those pussy lips right then! To feel that tight sleeve giving way to my swollen cockhead! To hear her moan with pleasure as I impaled her on my throbbing root!

I started stroking faster, almost feeling the wetness of her, almost feeling the warmth, then a slight noise behind me broke the thought and jerked me out of my fantasy. My eyes snapped open in alarm, and there in the mirror - arms folded and leaning against the bathroom door - was my mother.

"M ... Mom!" I stammered. "How long have you been there?"

"Long enough," she answered.

I braced myself for the tirade that I knew would follow, and was flabbergasted when, rather than scolding me, she stepped up close and hooked her left arm around my waist. "Here," she said evenly, "let me do that for you."

She took my turgid prick in her hand, and started stroking me expertly, as though she had performed this task a thousand and one times. I started to protest, but the words wouldn't come. The warmth of her hand, the slow, loving rhythm she was using to pump my hard shaft stifled them in my throat. Our eyes met and locked in the mirror - Was that a hint of a smile on her lips? Were those her breasts boring into my side? Was that her cunt grinding against my hip? - and I just sort of relaxed and let her do it.

It didn't take long for the loving strokes to overwhelm me, for the pressure to build. It didn't take long for my eyes to clamp shut, for my body to stiffen. And it didn't take long for the powerful spurts of my thick, grey-white jism to erupt across the sink.

Mom kept stroking me as I shot, even though my glans was super-sensitive right then, and my body twitched and jerked each time her hand passed over it. She milked me dry with her fingers, squeezing the last, sluggish drops of cum out of my withering prick, and I was almost ashamed to look at her. My legs were shaking from the intensity of the orgasm and I wilted against the edge of the sink.

When she was satisfied that my ejaculation was over, she looked down at a thick smear of my cum in the palm of her hand, raised it to her mouth, and licked it off the way you might lick the blood from a small cut. "Mmmm," she moaned huskily, "that's too good to waste."

She turned then, sat down on the toilet, tugged me in front of her, and took my flagging cock in her mouth.

"Mom?" I asked stupidly. "What are you doing?"

She didn't answer. Her lips glissed forward and back on the shaft of my prick a few times, then I felt her tongue wiping the residue of jizz off my swollen glans. Amazingly, my cock started to stiffen again in the insistent warmth and wetness of her mouth.

I looked down at her, but all I could see was the top of her head, and, even as I watched, that head pushed forward again until the entire length of my thick rod was crammed into her mouth, touching the back of her throat. And the power her mouth had over me was unimaginable.

The tingly sensation seemed to start right at the head of my dick and radiated out to the rest of my body; a sultry wave of darkness inundated my brain, and the only thing I was aware of were those marvelous lips sliding smoothly back and forth along the shaft of my rigid manhood; the only thing I could hear were the slurpy noises coming from her mouth..

I tangled my fingers in her hair, my hands riding back and forth on her head, and felt the pressure building in my groin again. I felt my cock swell even further in her mouth, and, with a low groan that I couldn't control, blew my nuts down my mother's throat.

Mom groaned, also - happily - and I could feel her tongue squishing my sperm against the roof of her mouth, savoring the taste of it before she swallowed. And she swallowed ra-pidly. Surge after surge of the thick, white fuck spewed into her hungry mouth, and she chewed lightly on my rock hard crank as the flood gradually diminished.

She used her lips to milk the last dregs of cum from my softening cock, then came off the end of it and licked the heavy globules off my shaft. Her eyes were shining brightly when she finally stood up.

She leaned forward then, smiling, and kissed me fully on the lips. I felt a little repulsed at tasting my own cum on them. "God, that was good!" she purred, looking squarely into my eyes. "I haven't had a load like that for a long, long time."

"Mom, I ... "

"Get that mess in the sink cleaned up," she interrupted me, "then come downstairs. I'll cook you some breakfast." She gave my cock one last squeeze and slipped through the bathroom door as quietly as she had come in.

I sagged against the sink on trembling legs and regarded myself in the mirror. "Jesus," I muttered to my reflection, "imagine being sucked off by your own mother."

And, outside the door, my mother heard the words and smiled. It was going to be good.

I came down the stairs slowly, not quite sure what to expect. The whole episode of mom pulling my meat, then giving me the best blow job I'd ever had, was unnerving. There just isn't a whole lot that can be said after your mother drinks your jizz.

"Mom ..." I started, as I walked into the kitchen, but she held up a hand to silence me.

"Let me talk first," she said evenly. She set a dish of bacon and eggs down on the table, and lowered herself into a chair across the corner from me.

"Bobby, you know how your father's always on the road, right? You know how he stops by every two or three weeks to drop off his laundry and grab a quick piece of ass. ..."

"Mom!" I groused.

"Oh, come on," she replied. "Let's not be coy with each other. Not now. You know it's true as well as I do. Maybe that's what I get for being a trucker's wife. Anyway, the last time he was home, I found this in one of his pockets." And she tossed a pack of Trojans out on the table in front of me.

"What do you make of that?" she asked.

I frowned, looking at the torn, foil-wrapped package. "There's supposed to be ..." and suddenly I caught myself, about to say something that would hurt her feelings.

"Go ahead and say it," she prompted me. "There's supposed to be three of them in there, right? And there's only two."

Sheepishly, I nodded.

"And what does that mean? I'll tell you what it means. It means that sonofabitch is getting laid on the road, while I'm sitting here at home doing without. And I've got needs, too, Bobby. Every bit as strong as his."

"It's not right, mom." I said, nodding my head toward the pack of Trojans. I was at a loss for words. "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know," she said pensively. "I've been doing a lot of thinking about that. What's good for the goose is good for the gander, except I can't really see myself bringing home somebody from the office, or picking up some stranger at a singles bar."

She leveled her eyes at me across the corner of the table, then said what had been on her mind for a long time. "I've been thinking about you and me, Bobby. If we could manage to get together, I wouldn't have to go prowling around like some bitch in heat, you know? It would be right here at home, where it's comfortable and familiar. And I already love you, for Christ's sake. What could be so wrong about it?" I didn't respond. There was just too much to think about.

"Don't try to tell me you don't need it as bad as I do," she continued. "I've seen the wet spots on your sheets when I change them. I've seen the girlie magazines under your mat-tress. Why can't you get it from me instead of some inexperienced, little teeny-bopper under the bleachers?"

"It's against the law, mom," I said finally.

"Fuck the Goddamned law!" she blurted. "How are they going to know, if we don't tell them?"

And I had no answer for her. How, indeed?

"Look, Bobby," she said, laying her hand on my thigh, "I'm not a prude when it comes to sex, okay? I'll do anything you want anytime you want it. I've already shown you that I'll suck your cock. If you want to fuck, we'll fuck. If you want to eat a little pussy, that's fine with me. If you want to fuck me in the ass, we can do that, too. Anything, anytime, any-where. And I mean that."

I don't think she had any idea what her words were doing to me, and I didn't know how to tell her. "Jesus, mom!" I moaned.

She stopped talking then and squinted at me, trying to figure out what was wrong, and her eyes went wide with surprise when the understanding of it finally hit her.

"Well, I'll be damned," she murmured. "You're getting fired up just talking about it!"

She slid her hand up my thigh, bringing it to rest on the growing bulge inside my jeans. Deftly, she unzipped my pants and pulled my burgeoning cock out into the open.

"This is for me?" she asked, gazing at it dreamily. "Just from talking?"

Dumbly, I nodded my head.

"You do have a nice one, Bobby," she purred. "What do you want? More head?"

"No," I croaked. "I want ... I want to fuck you, mom! I want to have it in your pussy."

She stood up then, hooked her thumbs in the waistband of the skimpy bikini bottom, pushed it down over the flare of her hips, and stepped out of it; one long leg, and then the other.

It was the first time I'd ever seen her pussy; the delicate, pink cunt lips protruding slightly from the soft down at the juncture of her thighs, the tiny pearls of moisture clinging to them, glistening in the morning sunlight. My cock swelled even further in anticipation.

"That's funny," mom said softly. "That's what I want, too."

Without another word, she stepped across me on the chair, held the engorged head of my member up to the dewy opening of her cunt, and lowered herself onto me with a gasp of pleasure.

I could feel her cunt lips opening up to accept my girth, and the slippery tightness of her as she slid slowly down on my cock. A fraction of an inch at a time, I entered her, and her quim molded around my prick like a tight, oily glove. The sensation of having her hot flesh gripping my rod so tightly sent shivers of delight coursing through my body.

"Oh, my God, mom!" I breathed. "This is wonderful!"

"Better than my mouth?" she whispered close to my ear.

"I ... I don't know. It's a different feeling. I don't think anything could be better than your mouth. Does that sound strange?"

"Not at all," she purred. "Men always like being sucked off better than fucking. And women like sucking them, too - having the power to make a man spurt in their mouths whenever they want - but this is what makes a woman cum, Bobby; having a stiff dick or a long tongue rammed up their cunt."

"Are you going to cum, mom?" I asked.

"Jesus, I hope so!"

She started riding me then, rocking her hips and grinding her clit against the base of my shaft. Her beautiful tits were swaying up and down, a scant inch in front of my face, and, without asking permission, I shoved her tee shirt up and took one, erect nipple between my lips.

"Oh, yes!" she groaned. "Suck it, baby! Suck it!"

Her cunt muscles contracted down around my prick when I laved her nipple with my tongue, clasping me tightly, and she started plunging up and down on me furiously, sluicing my rock hard crank in and out of her steaming hole.

It occurred to me that there were other areas on her body that were just as sensitive as her breasts. I slid my hands up her thighs, touching her where we joined, and felt her shudder against me. Then, my fingers wet with her juices, I reached behind her to touch the tight rosebud of her ass. That puckered, little orifice seemed to dilate of its own volition at my touch and, very tentatively, I slipped my middle finger into it up to the first knuckle.

"You want to fuck that, don't you?" she asked quietly.

I took her hard nipple out of my mouth and smiled up at her. "You said I could."

"No one's ever had me there, Bobby," she breathed. "You'd be the first, and it's been a fantasy of mine for years to be fucked up the ass."

"Well," I smiled up at her, "do you want to make your fantasy come true?"

Mom gave me a knowing smile, lifted herself off, letting the head of my cock come out of her dripping cunt, shifted forward slightly, and lowered herself again until the head of my turgid prick was pressing warmly up against her asshole.

"Take it slow," she crooned. "Give me time to relax."

The heat emanating from the tight ring of her ass was incredible, almost searing the head of my rod, and I could feel her pushing slowly down against it. Little by little her tight sphincter muscle relaxed and my swollen cockhead eased in past its grip.

"You're in!" mom giggled. "You're in!"

Very slowly she lowered herself onto me, her breath catching in her throat as my stiff shank penetrated her incredibly tight anal passage. It was an entirely different feeling than either her mouth or her cunt had given me, and I reveled in the new sensation.

"I can feel it in front!" she hissed. "It's delicious!"

Her asshole was intensely tight and hot, and it took several minutes before I had pushed into her all the way. When we could both feel that the entire length of my cock was im- bedded in her ass, we simply sat there, savoring the sensation, letting the waves of feeling sweep over us.

After a long moment, mom lifted herself again - a fraction of an inch - then pushed back down and immediately had a shuddering orgasm. She arched her back, rotating her hips against the immense cock that was shoved up her ass, and clutched me tightly to her. "That is so good!" she purred. "And I've wanted it for so long!"

She lifted again, experimenting with the feeling, testing the fit, and started rocking slowly, against me working my cock up and down in the tight sleeve of her ass. She pressed her lips to mine then, her tongue warring with mine, and went into a series of shuddering orgasms, one after another, that made her frantic in my arms. Her breathing was shallow, ragged, and she bucked up and down on top of me, driving the full length of my thick shaft into the mystery of her anal passage with a ferociousness that I would never have expected from her.

"I ... I'm going to cum. mom!" I rasped close to her ear. And then it was there: heavy bursts of jism, jetting painfully up the length of my cock, erupting deeply into the heat of her ass, the low animal groan escaping my throat. My head lolled backwards onto the chair as the shock waves of release gripped me, shook me, and mom's head sagged against my shoulder as yet another orgasm seized her body. When it was finished we just sat there, overwhelmed by the experience, dazed by the intensity of it, trying to regain control of our bodies, our breathing. And we didn't talk; there were no words to describe it.

We were kissing passionately, my cock slowly shrinking in her freshly fucked ass, a puddle of cum drooling out of her and into my pubic hair, when we heard the harsh blast of a truck's air horn as it passed on the highway.

Mom's eyes snapped open with alarm. "Jesus Christ!" she gasped. "Was that your dad?"

"Sounded like it to me," I replied.

We were both aware of his habit of blaring his horn every time he drove by the house, and we both knew he had to drive another two miles to the county road, turn off, then drive the two miles back on the graveled access road.

We had, at the very most, four minutes.

"Damn!," she muttered. "We can't let him catch us like this! You take the upstairs bath-room, I'll use the one down here. And, Bobby?"

"Yeah, mom?"

"Not a word of this."

She lifted herself off my slippery prick, held the bottom of her bikini against her ass, and sprinted toward the downstairs bathroom. For the second time that morning, I took the stair two-at-a-time.

I washed quickly, stuffed my flaccid manhood back in my pants, and was back down at the front door just as the big eighteen-wheeler pulled up in front. Dad climbed down from the cab, fished his laundry from one of the side compartments, and walked stiffly toward the house.

"Can't stay long," he said, setting his laundry bag on the floor. "An hour or so. I've got a dock time in San Francisco that I can't miss."

"You want some breakfast?" mom asked. Somehow, she had managed to get completely cleaned up and dressed in that short four minutes.

"Sure thing," he said, giving her a duty kiss. "Bobby, can you wash my windshield off for me?"

I recognized his request for just what it was - an excuse to get me out of the house for a while - and headed for the garage thinking about that partially used pack of Trojans.

By the time I got back to the house, dad was gulping down a plate of bacon and eggs with mom sitting across from him sipping a cup of coffee.

He was a real piece of work, dad was: always wearing a plaid, flannel shirt and a Forty Niner's baseball cap so he'd fit in with the other drivers. He had it figured out that, if he brought home a paycheck every now and again, he was fulfilling his responsibility of taking care of the family. And he couldn't have been more wrong.

"What are you hauling?" I asked him.

"Load of furniture from South Carolina," he said around a mouthful of eggs. "Then I've contracted to make a couple of runs up the Alcan Highway to Fairbanks."

We feigned interested in his words, mom and I, nodding our heads at the correct times, but neither one of us really gave a damn. We would have two, maybe three, weeks of being alone together once he left again - two, maybe three, weeks of uninterrupted fucking and sucking - and we could hardly wait for it to begin.

He stood up finally, handed mom a check, and stretched his back. "Gotta roll," he said. "If I miss my dock time, I'll be deadheading it till tomorrow."

"I understand," mom said weakly. "Bobby, would you get the bag of your dad's clothes from the hall closet?"

I handed him the bag, trying to figure out what kind of man it took to drive off down the highway, leaving his wife alone at home, needing him. Needing someone. And then it hit me that I was wrong. Mom didn't need him at all. She had me!

He shook my hand lightly, gave mom another duty kiss, and was out the door.

Mom stood in the doorway like a good, little trucker's wife should, with me close behind her, watching as he walked across to the tractor-trailer rig, climbed in, and fired it up.

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