It plunged into her.
It went in like a spear, in one thrust sliding right up her gushing hole, swimming in her belly. She was a cavern, a yawning sac, an agonized emptiness into which it slid seemingly without touching her cunt walls.
He came down on her body, filling her split with rampant young cock, a twitching, throbbing prick like a giant, stony banana.
She bowed her back as she threw her arms around him. She reached all the way to his buttocks, dug her fingers in deep, and pulled, drawing him into her, all the way, crushing her spread cunt lips. She jacked up her legs and crossed them over her wrists.
She was jerking, hips wrenching, her cunt sucking at his burning tool.
She was coming already, coming like a tornado on her son s big cock.
The moment Sonny shoved into his mother's cunt he knew that his previous experience had been elementary, childish, strictly teenage experimentation.
His cock lanced into a gaping cavern, to its very depths, his pubes mashing her open, jelly-like twat lips. In the space of a heartbeat the cavern collapsed. Rather, the walls leaped inward from every direction, imprisoning the massive rigidity of his cock in a searing, rolling, fluid tube.
It was a fist composed of a thousand fingers, a multi-tongued mouth, a sump pump gulping at his ball-bat prick.
He felt her fingers dig into his ass, drawing him in, her thighs locked on his waist, her mouth suckering his tongue to her throat. He was balanced on her hot belly and the ballooning swells of her breasts.
He was a man-shape, an angular, bony, jarring length from the middle of which projected a long, iron curve of throbbing meat, being used as simply that, a male of the species.
Kit was not his mother. He was not her son. He was merely a youth coupled with a voracious female in desperate, dying need of a cock in her cunt. She did not know him. He might as well have been a machine or a male whore hired for a single fuck.
That is, he did not know her. His mother's doting tenderness was not present. This wanton, this whore, lived only for his cock.
She tore her mouth from his and shrieked, "I'm coming, coming,coming! Fuck me! I'm coming! Agghh! Agghh! Coming! Coming!"
Her whole body wrenched, tearingly, and her cunt ran in knotty ripples up and down his cock, ringing tight each time her rotating hips rose and paused, lifting him, jerking for a moment before she again fell, her cunt falling loose, while she gathered strength for the next terrible upheaval.
She was suffering, he knew, trying to break something inside her that hurt very badly.
She raised one last time, trembled all over, and then collapsed.
"Coming," she whispered faintly. "Coming, down the hill, down, thank God I'm going down, down. A river."
Her arms and legs fell from him. She lay motionless, looking away from him and breathing very hard.
He choked, "Mother, are you all right?"
Panting, swallowing, she nodded.
Strong moonlight came from the window behind her, brightening her hair but leaving her eyes shadowed, unseeable pits.
He stared into them, seeking an explanation. What had happened? Why was he mounted on his mother's body, his cock buried in her slobbering hole? How had this come about?
Her hand rose to his face and fingertips brushed caressingly over his cheek. This was the first sign that Kit, his mother, existed in the body of the voluptuous stranger he was fucking.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"Sorry about what?"
She paused. "I don't know. I'm sorry because I feel guilty. I shouldn't have done it. I was half-crazy because-no, I can't blame anyone. That's the worst of it, there's nobody to blame. And I don't feel sorry enough. I must be an animal. I should be dying of shame."
As she spoke she kept wetting her lips.
"Sonny, I cheat myself so. I find excuses for everything I do, so I can live with the evil inside me. And once I have found an excuse for doing it, I dismiss it, and enjoy it. I'm enjoying it now, already. Already! I should want to kill myself! Instead I want…"
Her voice trailed off. Her arms slid caressingly about his shoulders. And once more her legs lifted, crossing on his back, her heels resting on his spine.
"Do you hate me?" she whispered.
Hate her? He could see into her shadowed eyes now, saw tears, and her habitual doting expression, as always when she gazed at him. The love that had always bound them together was there in her eyes. He could not quite believe that they were naked, he lying on her, his cock up her cunt, not when he looked into her eyes.
He kissed her lips best, Mother." and said, "I'll always love you "Sonny, did you-and Lily-do anything- together?"
He nodded.
"Did you do this?"
She turned away again, frowning, biting her lip. "What a fool I ant."
He guessed she meant she should not have pushed him at Lily the way she did. But that was unimportant. What counted was the slow realization that he was actually here between his mother's legs and that he loved it.
He nuzzled her cheek and whispered in her ear, "Mother, this is terrific."
She turned, glancing sharply at him. "Do you really like it? Being naked with me? Your-penis- inside me?"
He nodded, kissing her cheek.
"You don't feel-strange-about it?"
"I don't know. It's just terrific. I can't explain. I guess all I care is if it makes you happy."
She was silent. Her hands began slowly caressing his shoulders and the back of his neck. Her touch was affectionate, aimless, as though she were thinking of something else.
She whispered, "You don't feel badly about it? Ashamed?"
"No. Just surprised." This was true, though maybe because it had been her doing. Still, he recalled the moment after stripping off his clothes and climbing on the bed between her legs, looking at her open, hairy cunt lips, the glistening flesh of her split. Nobody had made him stick his cock into it.
But that was past. His twitching cock was buried in his mother's belly and his chest was flattening her plump breasts. That's where he was.
She asked, "Did you like Lily better?"
He tried to recall fucking Lily. He could not even imagine it. He could only picture the Lily he had always known, in a denim skirt and a t-shirt, her tits marked on it by dirt from carrying flats and boxes.
Before he could answer his cock gave a surge and he found that his hips were moving, slowly, rigidly. He felt a jogging of his prick deep in his mother's cunt, a hard clicking of his hipbones, an abrasion of his knees against the sheet.
He said, "I'm here. That's all. I'm here."
His voice came out thin, as though drawn through a keyhole. A pulse pounded in his forehead. His cock was swelling up, filling her. He arched his back, drawing his cock slowly out. Air cooled it, telling him how hot her cunt was. His tip rested in the portals, in a pool of oily juice.
He shoved in hard, gasped at the scalding heat engulfing his cockstem.
"Ahh-hh!" he breathed.
She squeezed him and whispered in his ear,
"Sonny, is it good?"
"You're so hot inside!"
"Oh, darling. Oh, you sweet boy. If only you were-not-but darling, you are. And it is such a hard, long thing, the best prick I've ever had in me, really it is. So terribly hard! I just love it."
He moved in long, stiff sweeps, sliding in and out, his scrotum flopping into the cleft of her ass at the end of each stroke. His skin was so sensitive that her ass hairs seemed to etch their curled shapes on his scrotum, and her pubic muff, larger than the hair nest from which his cock sprouted, mashed silkenly at his naked groin. Her broad, plump mound formed a cushion that dwarfed Lily's and the hot orbs of her tits made the girl's seem like oranges. But the greatest thrill was more than the maturity of her physique, the soft, round arms about his shoulders, the lusty thighs cradling him, the ham-like buttocks he pressed against. The best was the liquid violence of her lust, the way her indrawing, squishy cunt expressed the hungers of her entire body.