When Theresa arrived to visit Mark the next morning , he recounted Nancy's lewd display and vulgar taunting with a pained expression. "Your mother is a real piece of work," he said bitterly. "The way she reveled in describing how Michael would defile you, it was sickening. She's practically salivating at the idea of our son cuckolding me with my own wife!"
Theresa sighed and took Mark's hand, trying to soothe him. "Oh honey, I know my mom can be a bit...crude and insensitive sometimes. But please try not to take it personally. In her own misguided way, she really does want what's best for me. For us."
Mark scoffed in disbelief. "How can you defend her, Theresa? She outright told me you would get off on humiliating me with Michael! That him impregnating you would be the ultimate thrill! She's a monster."
"Mark, stop. You're overreacting," Theresa chided gently. "Mom is just excited for me to have my needs met, like any mother would be. And yes, she's extremely proud of Michael's...prowess and virility. What grandmother wouldn't be thrilled to know her grandson is so well-endowed and skilled at pleasing a woman?"
"She whipped out her tits and showed me all the marks Michael left on them! Said yours will soon look the same, covered in his bites and hickeys. That he'll suck your nipples until they're swollen and raw."
It was then that Mark noticed what looked like a couple purple hickey's and a bite marks on his wife's bulging cleavage that matched the ones her mother had on her tits. "Are those…um…?"
"I know it sounds bad when she says things like that," Theresa admitted, attempting to avert the attention away from her son's love-marks. "But that's just how she is - no filter. She doesn't mean any harm. In her own
crass way, she's trying to reassure you that Michael will take good care of me and my needs. That I'll be fully satisfied."
"Theresa, did Michael suck on your—"
"Focus on my mother's intent, not her delivery," his wife blurted, cutting him off. "She loves me and wants me happy, just like you do. This is her way of being supportive, even if it's hard to stomach."
"She was right…Michael did do the same thing to you. To your breasts," he uttered, still staring at the marks on her tits. "Did you and Michael…last night?"
"No, he did spend time…sucking on me, but we didn't have sex," Theresa answered, giving Mark a sympathetic look. "Honey, I know this whole situation is difficult and awkward. But if Michael and I are gonna be intimate on a regular basis, we need to figure out some ground rules and boundaries to make it easier for you."
"Ground rules and boundaries?"
"Yes," she answered, took a deep breath. "For starters, I think it's important that we're always open and honest with each other. No sneaking around or trying to hide things. If Michael and I are gonna have sex, we'll let you know in advance so you can prepare yourself mentally."
Mark took a deep breath. "I agree, honesty is crucial here. That being said, tell me truthfully - how often do you think you and Michael will need to... to be together? I know it won't be easy to hear, but I'd rather know what to expect."
Theresa bit her lip, averting her eyes. She knew her answer would be difficult for her husband to swallow. "Well, given my high sex drive, and factoring in my pent-up frustration this past week..." She hesitated, hating to twist the knife but knowing he deserved the unvarnished truth.
"I anticipate needing it at least 3-4 times a day, maybe more," she confessed quietly. "Once in the morning, again in the afternoon, and then 1-2 times at night before bed. With a possible quickie or two in between as needed."
Mark looked like he'd been punched in the gut, all the air leaving his lungs in a whoosh. "3-4 times a DAY?" he croaked in disbelief. "Dear God, Theresa..."
She reached out to stroke his face in apology. "I know it sounds like a lot, honey. And I'm sure over time, as the novelty wears off and my needs stabilize, it may taper down to a more manageable 1-2 daily sessions. But at least in the beginning, when I'm making up for lost time and adjusting to Michael's, um, capabilities...I think I'll require that much frequent stimulation, yes."
Mark closed his eyes, trying to process the devastating information. His wife needed to be pounded by their son's cock multiple times a day just to function. The sheer volume of fucking she required was staggering. He had always struggled to fully quench her sexual thirst and now she'd be getting dicked down by a strapping young buck with the stamina of a stallion morning, noon and night. How could he ever compare?
"There's more," Theresa said gently, hating to pile on but wanting to give Mark the full picture. "On top of the raw frequency, I'll also need a fair amount of...duration and intensity per session."
Mark's face was confused. "Duration and intesity?"
Theresa chose her words carefully. "Michael won't just be providing a few minutes of perfunctory missionary sex a couple times a day. To truly satisfy me, I'll require lengthy bouts of vigorous, athletic sex each time. At least 60 to 90 minutes per interlude, often longer."
Mark balked at Theresa's revelation, eyes wide with shock. "60 to 90 minutes? Each time?" he sputtered incredulously. "That's...that's hours of sex every single day!"
Theresa gave him a pained smile, her expression soft with sympathy but also a hint of wistful longing. "I know it sounds excessive, honey. But you have to understand - Michael is an 18 year old boy in his sexual prime, just like I am. His youthful stamina and short recovery time means he can go for much longer stretches than most men without losing steam."
She paused, not wanting to bruise Mark's ego but needing him to understand. "Even before your accident, when we made love, it was usually over within 10-15 minutes at most. And then you'd go soft and need a long refractory period before you could perform again. It's not a criticism, just a biological reality."
"So you see, honey," Theresa continued delicately, "this arrangement with Michael really is the best solution for managing my powerful cravings. He'll have the youthful vigor and quick reload time to match my demanding sex drive, without petering out or leaving me hanging."
"That's is a lot of sex, Theresa," Mark sputtered.
"Well, yes, when you factor in multiple lengthy bouts per day," Theresa continued gently, "We're realistically looking at a bare minimum of 3-4 hours spent in active, strenuous intercourse daily. Possibly upwards of 5-6 hours on his peak days or if I'm feeling particularly needy."
The room seemed to spin around Mark at the thought of his wife getting pounded relentlessly by their son for a third of the day, every day. The sheer amount of time they would spend locked in carnal congress was unfathomable to him. And yet, he couldn't deny the logic of her assessment, as painful as it was to hear.
"We'll do our best to be discreet, ok?" Theresa promised. "But Mark, I think it's important you work on becoming more comfortable with the sounds of sex in our home. It's gonna be a regular occurrence now."
She looked at him tenderly. "I know it's not easy, but try to reframe it in your mind. Those sounds are a positive thing, evidence that your son is giving your wife the pleasure and attention she desperately needs. That her body is being worshipped and satisfied as it should be. Take comfort in that."
Mark closed his eyes, struggling to process her words. It went against every instinct to find solace in another man, his own flesh and blood no less, screwing his wife. But Theresa's warm, soothing tone made it almost sound reasonable, even vaguely reassuring.
Theresa gave Mark's hand a comforting squeeze before broaching the next delicate subject. "Honey, since you'll be coming home with a special hospital bed, I've been thinking about our sleeping arrangements. It might make the most sense for you to set up in Michael's room, while Michael and I take the master suite."
Mark's head snapped up in surprise, a wounded look flashing across his face. "What? You want me to sleep in our son's room while he shares our marital bed with you? Theresa, no. Absolutely not!"
Theresa sighed patiently, as if reasoning with a stubborn child. "Mark, I know it's not ideal. But logistically, it really is the best solution. The master bedroom is more spacious and private, better suited for the frequent, vigorous lovemaking Michael and I will be engaging in."
Mark looked stricken at the mention of his wife's sexual plans, but Theresa pressed on. "Plus, the master has the en suite bathroom, which will be handy for post-coital clean up. We won't have to traipse through the house in the middle of the night, risking waking the other kids."
She gave him a soothing look, her voice turning tender. "And honey, realistically, my need for intercourse won't be limited to daylight hours. There will likely be times when the urge strikes me in the middle of the night. Having Michael right there beside me means I can just roll over and nudge him awake for sex without disturbing your rest."
Mark looked like he might be sick at the casual way Theresa described rousing their son for impromptu night sex. But she stroked his arm gently, trying to soften the blow.
"I know the idea of sleeping alone is upsetting, but Mark, I'll only be just down the hall. It's not like I'm abandoning you. This is about giving Michael and I the privacy and convenience we need to keep my libido in check around the clock."
Mark sighed heavily, struggling to accept this new reality. The thought of being exiled from his marital bed, from his wife's side, so she could more
conveniently fuck their son was a bitter pill to swallow. But as always, Theresa's logic was sound.
"I suppose you're right," he conceded grudgingly. "It would be impractical for you two to get up and down all night to go to another room. And we certainly don't want the younger kids seeing something they shouldn't."
The next day, Mark was discharged from the hospital and brought home to begin adjusting to his new life. Theresa and Michael had spent the morning clearing out Michael's old bedroom to make space for Mark's specialized hospital bed and equipment. The room felt sterile and impersonal, lacking any warmth or familiarity.
As Theresa got Mark settled in, he looked up at her with pleading eyes. "Theresa, um… before you go, could I see the master bedroom? The one you and Michael will be sharing? I just wanna check it out, get a sense of where you'll be."
Theresa hesitated, biting her lip. She knew there had been some significant changes made to the room in the past couple of days in preparation for her and Michael's new sleeping arrangements. Changes that might be upsetting for Mark to see.
"I don't know, honey," she said gently. "I'm not sure that's a good idea right now. You're still adjusting to being home and I don't wanna overwhelm you."
But Mark persisted, his voice taking on a slight edge. "Please, babe. I need to see it. I promise I can handle it, whatever it is. Not knowing will only make my imagination run wild."
Theresa sighed, realizing he was right. It was better to rip the bandaid off now rather than let him stew in speculation. "Alright, I'll take you to see it. But remember, we're doing what's necessary for my well-being, okay?"
She gripped the handles of his wheelchair and slowly pushed him down the hall to the master suite. Mark's heart thudded in his chest as they approached, a sense of dread knotting his stomach.
Theresa paused outside the closed door, giving Mark a searching look. "Are you sure you want to do this?"
Mark set his jaw and nodded stiffly. With a resigned sigh, Theresa turned the knob and wheeled Mark inside.
He inhaled sharply as he took in the transformed space. The first thing that hit him was the size of the bed - it was massive, an oversized California king that dominated the room. The frame was sturdy iron, with a headboard and footboard that featured heavy-duty construction.
Mark swallowed hard as he stared at the imposing bed, an uneasy feeling settling in his gut. He turned to Theresa with a forced neutral expression. "That's...quite an upgrade in bed size," he remarked, trying to keep his tone light. "Any particular reason for such a big mattress? And the reinforced frame?"
Theresa's cheeks flushed and she avoided his gaze at first. "Mark, honey, do I really need to spell it out?" Her tone was gentle but laced with embarrassment.
"Well, I just wanna understand," Mark pressed, even as part of him screamed not to ask questions he didn't truly want the answers to.
Theresa sighed and met his eyes. "The heavy-duty construction of the frame and headboard is necessary to withstand the...enthusiasm we'll be generating. Our old bed simply wouldn't hold up to the pounding it will endure on a daily basis."
She looked at him almost apologetically. "Michael is a young man in his prime with incredible power and stamina. When he takes me, it will be an enthusiastic, animalistic mating. I wanted a bed that would be able to handle the aggressive, prolonged thrusting without breaking."
Mark closed his eyes, fighting back the wave of nausea at the vivid picture Theresa painted of the relentless jackhammering she would soon be subjected to in this new bed. The knowledge that his wife required such an industrial strength fuck‐station to survive the vicious pummeling their son would inflict on her night after night was a jagged pill to swallow.
"I see," he managed weakly. "Yes, that does make sense from structural standpoint."
Theresa gave him a sympathetic look. "I know it's not easy to hear, but you wanted complete honesty. And the reality is, anything less than this setup would quickly prove insufficient for Michael and I."
Mark's gaze drifted up and he sucked in a sharp breath as he noticed the ceiling above the bed. Mounted there was an expansive mirror, taking up nearly the entire space over the mattress. His wide eyes met Theresa's in the reflection.
"Is that...new?" he asked hoarsely, though the answer was obvious. Their bedroom ceiling had certainly never featured a mirror before.
Theresa nodded, her expression a mix of shy and excited. "Yes, I had it installed yesterday. It was Michael's idea, actually."
Mark's stomach clenched at the thought of his son already making interior decor suggestions for Mark's own marital bedroom. The presumption stung.
"His idea?" Mark repeated numbly. "Why?"
Theresa's cheeks pinked and she looked away. "Well, as you know, my tastes tend to run a bit...girly. Lots of lace and florals and pastels. Which is fine, but I wanted to do something special for Michael too, to make him feel more at home since he'll be spending so much time in here now."
Mark felt dizzy, his stomach turning at the lascivious implications. "But why mirrors? What purpose could they possibly serve other than..." He trailed off, not wanting to finish the thought out loud.
Theresa shifted uncomfortably, clearly not wanting to voice the mirror's indecent purpose. "Oh, um, hey did you notice the new curtains? I thought the navy blue would complement the rug nicely and—"
But Mark wasn't listening, his attention riveted on the framed photo perched on the bedside table. It was an intimate close-up shot of Theresa and Michael, their faces mere inches apart as they gazed deeply into each other's eyes. The adoration and fierce longing passing between them was palpable, almost a physical force. They looked for all the world like two people consumed by passionate, forbidden love.
Mark's blood ran cold as he stared at the damning image, a portrait of the inevitable carnal bond his wife would soon share with their son. The devotion and hunger in their locked eyes spoke of a connection that transcended the familial - raw, primal, all-consuming. It was the way a woman looked at her soulmate, her virile alpha mate. Not her own child.
"When was this taken?"
"This was taken last week, at Michael's 18th birthday party," she explained, tracing the edge of the photo with a fingertip. "We had a moment alone in the kitchen, and I gave him a hug to congratulate him on reaching such a milestone. My mom captured the moment."
"Where's our wedding photo?" Mark asked, gazing around.
"Oh…that. I think we put it up in the attic," his wife confessed. "Which was stupid of me. I should have hung it up in your new bedroom."
Mark shook his head in disbelief, not wanting to accept the tender intimacy on display in the photo that had replaced the one of him and his wife. "You two look pretty serious," he noted.
Theresa placed her hand gently on Mark's shoulder, giving him a sympathetic look. "Honey, you need to understand that the dynamic between Michael and I will be different now. We won't just be mother and son anymore. There will be an undeniable sexual tension and attraction simmering between us at all times."
Her hand moved to stroke the back of Mark's neck in soothing circles, even as her words twisted the knife in his heart.
"You'll need to get used to seeing the desire in our eyes when we're together, the magnetic pull between us. The casual touches that will linger just a little too long to be familial. The secret smiles and knowing glances," Theresa murmured. "It's all part of the profound bond we'll be forging through such regular, intimate contact."
Mark closed his eyes against the onslaught of images - his beautiful wife and strapping young son eyeing each other hungrily across the dinner table, hands brushing as they pass in the hall, exchanging loaded looks heavy with promise and anticipation of their next sexual encounter. He felt like he might be sick.
"I think I've seen enough," Mark said hoarsly.
Theresa nodded in understanding, her expression soft with sympathy. "Of course, honey. This is a lot to take in all at once. Let's get you settled back in bed and I'll make you some tea."
As Theresa wheeled Mark out of the transformed master bedroom, he couldn't help but notice a few more unsettling details. On the dresser sat an enormous economy-sized bottle of lubricant called "Anal-Ease", along with an assortment of flavored massage oils with names like "Passion Fruit Pucker" and "Licorice Lick".
Mark's stomach churned at the implications. Was his wife really planning to engage in such lewd, taboo acts with their own son? The thought of Michael violating her most intimate orifices, slathering her body with slippery oil for carnal massages, was almost too much to bear.
In the bathroom, Mark spotted two plush matching robes hanging on the back of the door - one in a masculine navy blue, the other a feminine lilac, both embroidered with intertwined initials, like a wedding gift for the happy new couple. The symbolism of their union, of Michael usurping Mark's place as the man of the house, was like a punch to the gut.
"Theresa..." Mark croaked weakly, gesturing to the robes with a trembling hand. "What are those?"
Theresa glanced over, biting her lip as she saw what had caught Mark's attention. "Oh. Those are just a little gift from my mother. Something nice for Michael and I to wear during our...private time together."
She tactfully steered the wheelchair out of the room before Mark could inquire about the anal lube and massage oils. There were some things he was better off not knowing all the details of, for his own sanity. But the reminder of those items she'd recently purchased couldn't keep her nipples from tingling and her asshole from puckering anxiously.
"Let's get you back to your bed," Theresa said soothingly.
After getting her husband settled, Theresa went over to her mother Nancy's house for a special yoga session. Both women were dressed in skimpy, revealing workout clothes - skintight booty shorts that barely covered their plump rear ends and low-cut sports bras that displayed their montrous tit-cleavage.
They set up their yoga mats in the living room, right in front of where Frank sat immobile in his wheelchair. The two women exchanged a conspiratorial wink, knowing the lewd show they were about to put on for him.
"Don't mind him," Nancy said breezily. "I wanted your father to observe our session today. He should understand the importance of keeping our bodies primed and ready for a young stud like Michael.
As an experience yoga instructor, Nancy began guiding Theresa through a series of poses that were blatantly sexual in nature, each one designed to mimic a different coital position. She angled her body to give Frank an unobstructed view of their lewd display.
"Alright Theresa, move into Downward Facing Dog," Nancy instructed.
Theresa obediently got on all fours, sticking her round ass high in the air. Her tiny shorts crept between her cheeks, giving the appearance of a thong.
"Michael loves taking me from behind like this, grabbing my hips and just slamming into me doggy-style."
She reached back and smacked her daughter's quivering buttocks. "Really arch that back and present yourself, let your father see how you'll offer up your holes to to his Grandson just like his wife does."
Theresa let out a wanton moan as she tilted her pelvis more, putting her crotch on vulgar display.
Nancy grinned at her husband's stricken expression before moving on to the next pose. "Okay, now let's practice Reclined Bound Angle. Lay back and spread your legs, get those hips nice and loose."
Theresa rolled onto her back and let her knees fall open wide in a lewd approximation of the missionary position. The seam of her shorts pressed tightly against her mound, molding to her puffy slit. Theresa rocked her hips up rhythmically, as if meeting an invisible lover's thrusts.
"Perfect form," Nancy praised, her voice dripping with innuendo. "Michael will have such deep access to your sweet spot like this. He'll stir up your insides real good, really grind that fat knob of his against that cervical head."
She placed her hands on Theresa's splayed thighs and pushed them back further, until her daughter's crotch was pointed straight at Frank. "Those cute little shorts leave nothing to the imagination, do they Frank? No question what your daughter's ripe body is built for."
Theresa bit her lip and whimpered as she undulated her pelvis in long, sensuous rolls, the flesh of her inner thighs jiggling. Frank watched in transfixed horror, unable to look away from his daughter's blatant fuck motions.
Nancy smirked and moved the session along. "Now let's try a variation on Reclining Bound Angle - grab behind your knees and pull them to your chest. This one's great for hitting the G-spot."
Theresa wrapped her arms around her legs, hugging them tightly to her torso and turning her crotch into an explicit bulls-eye. The position left her
completely open and exposed. "Like this, Mom?" she asked with faux innocence.
"Just like that, baby girl," Nancy purred. "See how vulnerable this pose leaves you, totally surrendered? No way to stop your horny little snatch from getting speared by teenage cock."
Frank tried to avert his gaze from the depraved yoga display, unable to stomach the sight of his daughter and wife so lewdly presenting themselves. But Nancy was having none of it.
With surprising agility for her age, she stretched out a leg and caught Frank's chin with her foot, painted toenails digging into his skin. With a firm press, she redirected his face back to the obscene spectacle.
"Eyes up here, Frank," Nancy commanded harshly. "You don't get to look away. I want you to see every detail of how your baby girl is getting her body ready to be despoiled by our virile young grandson."
Frank let out a strangled sound of distress but was powerless to resist his wife's dominant directive. His eyes reluctantly refocused on Theresa splayed out with her legs pulled back, crotch pointed at him.
"That's better," Nancy said with cruel satisfaction. "You just sit there and observe every second of this. Watch your sexy daughter perform mating poses, see how she presents her holes like a bitch in heat."
She smirked at him, flexing her foot against his face in warning. "The next time you look away, I'll make you watch up close in humiliating detail while Michael fucks the shit out of me and ruins me with that huge slab of cockmeat you can't hope to match. Understand?"
Frank shuddered but nodded weakly, knowing he was utterly at the mercy of his vicious wife. She could force him to endure any degradation she wished and he'd be helpless to stop her.
Nancy chuckled darkly at Frank's defeated compliance before turning back to Theresa with a wicked grin. "Alright sweetie, let's move on to some cowgirl poses. Up on your knees now."
Theresa obediently rose to her knees on the yoga mat, straddling an imaginary lover. Her massive breasts jiggled and swayed heavily with the motion, barely contained by the straining sports bra.
Nancy circled around behind Theresa and placed her hands on her daughter's broad hips, angling them forward. "Remember, you wanna create a nice deep arch in your lower back. Really present that hungry snatch."
Nancy reached around and smacked Theresa's puffy mound, making her gasp. "Tilt that pelvis, offer up your cunt like a good little mommy-slut."
Theresa whimpered and did as instructed, rolling her hips to thrust her crotch out obscenely. The seam of her skintight shorts disappeared between the plump lips of her pussy, highlighting every fold and crease.
"Perfect," Nancy purred. "Now show your Daddy what a grade-A dick jockey you are. Bounce on that imaginary teenage cock like you mean it."
Moaning wantonly, Theresa began undulating her wide hips with practiced skill, rocking them in filthy circles and figure-eights. She moved her body in a lewd pantomime of riding cock, her giant tits swinging and slapping together lewdly, clearly unfettered benath her yoga top.
"That's it, grind that cunt," Nancy encouraged. "Squeeze your kegels like you're milking a fat dick dry with your hungry fuck-tunnel."
She pressed against Theresa from behind, thrusting her own pelvis in time with her daughter's gyrations.
"When Michael's splitting you open on that monster cock, you clench down and ripple on him, really massage his meat with your cunt muscles," Nancy advised breathlessly. "Teenage boys absolutely love that shit. Makes them dump the biggest loads."
Theresa threw her head back against her mother's shoulder, loose strands of hair clinging to her sweaty face as she rocked and writhed. "Ohhh fuck yesss," she keened. "Gonna drain those swollen bull-balls dry!"
Nancy grinned savagely at Frank over Theresa's shoulder as they dry humped in tandem. "Watch closely Frank. This is how your sweet baby girl
is gonna to ride your strapping young grandson. Impale herself on his enormous fuck-stick over and over until he floods her unprotected womb with virile seed."
Frank made a choked sound of anguish, his face a mask of impotent humiliation and despair as he was forced to witness the grotesque display of his wife and daughter practicing their cock-riding skills.
Nancy and Theresa continued their vulgar yoga routine under Frank's horrified gaze, each new position more obscene than the last. They transitioned seamlessly from bouncing to grinding, their bodies undulating in perfect sync as if they were being taken by the same relentless cock.
The vigorous motions proved too much for their flimsy yoga tops to contain. With each thrust and shimmy, more of their sweat-slicked tit-flesh spilled out over the plunging necklines until finally their massive, jiggling breasts bounced completely free.
"Oops!" Nancy giggled as her huge, sagging udders flopped out to slap against her belly. "These big ol' girls just don't wanna stay put!"
She cupped the heavy globes and lewdly hefted them, her rubbery nipples already hard and poking out from their massive areolar caps.
Theresa's colossal knockers had also escaped their spandex prison, her puffy pink nubs engorged with arousal. She licked her lips and fondled the weighty tits shamelessly, pinching and tugging on her fat teats until they throbbed visibly.
Their giant tits flopped and slapped together lewdly as they undulated, nipples like hard bullets aimed right at Frank's horrified face. Wet smacking sounds filled the room as mother and daughter bucked and pistoned their skilled hips, the fabric of their skimpy shorts pasted to their perspiration-slicked mounds.
"Fuck yes, ride that teenage dick!" Nancy crowed, her saggy udders swinging pendulously as she humped the air. "Drain those cum-swollen balls dry with that hungry MILF snatch!"
"Yesss!" Theresa cried out, nearly orgasm she was so turned on. "I'm gonna ride the shit out of him!"
Finally, after nearly an hour of the revolting tit-flopping fuck-aerobics, and lots of mini-orgasms the two women collapsed on their yoga mats, chests heaving and bodies glistening with sweat. The front panels of their bottoms were visibly wet with arousal, the damp patches highlighting the puffy outlines of their mounds.
"Whew!" Nancy declared, fanning her flushed face. "I don't know about you Theresa, but I'm drenched! I think it's time for a nice, refreshing shower."
Theresa nodded in agreement, peeling her sweat-soaked top over her head. "God yes, I'm overheated. Feels like my cunt is steaming!"
With that, the two women stripped off their soaked yoga bottoms, baring their dripping, puffy cunts to Frank's horrified gaze. The crotches of the skimpy shorts were drenched with their musky arousal, since the damp material had been clinging to the plump outline of their vulvas.
Theresa sauntered over to her father, her exposed tits bouncing heavily with each step. She draped her moist yoga shorts over his face, positioning the sodden gusset directly over his nose and mouth. "There you go daddy," she winked.
The pungent aroma of her sweat-drenched crotch invaded his nostrils. Nancy cackled and added her own sopping bottoms to the pile, smothering Frank completely in hot, pungent pussy stank.
"Breathe it in, Frank," Nancy's mocking voice came from above. "Get a good whiff of what Michael's gonna be smelling when he's tongue- deep in our cunts."
The two women's laughter rang in Frank's ears as they sauntered off to the bathroom to shower, naked asses jiggling with every step, leaving him marinating in their fuck-oils.
At school that day, Michael was approached by three different girls, all with huge, bountiful breasts straining against their tight tops. They each cornered him separately, batting their eyelashes flirtatiously and pressing their giant tits against his arm as they propositioned him.
Stacy, the head cheerleader, pulled Michael into an empty classroom. Her Double-D cups practically spilled out of her low-cut tank top as she ran a manicured nail down his chest. "Hey Mikey," she purred, "Wanna come over after school? My parents won't be home. We could have some fun..." She licked her glossy lips suggestively, leaving no doubt as to what kind of "fun" she had in mind.
Michael swallowed hard, his cock twitching at the enticing sight of Stacy's massive rack. It was so tempting, especially when she leaned in close, her pillowy breasts squishing against him. But he summoned his willpower and gently pushed her away. "Sorry Stace, I can't today. Got important plans already."
Next was Tiffany, the busty goth chick. She ambushed Michael behind the bleachers, her ponderous pale jugs jiggling as she pinned him to the wall. "Where do you think you're going?" she breathed, her ample bosom heaving in a tight black corset.
"Heading to my next class," Michael answered, trying to ignore his throbbing hardon.
"Why don't you fuck me instead. I'll make it worth your while..." She grabbed his hand and boldly placed it on her huge, creamy tit, encouraging him to squeeze.
Michael groaned at the plush softness filling his palm. God, her rack was spectacular. But again, he resisted, stepping back regretfully. "I appreciate the offer, Tiff. But I really can't bail on my prior commitments. Maybe another time?"
Finally, curvy Latina Selena cornered Michael in the locker room after gym class. Her white t-shirt was soaked with sweat, rendering it completely transparent. Her colossal, caramel-colored tetas bounced freely underneath,
dark nipples poking through the wet fabric. "Ay papi," she cooed, pressing her damp chest to his. "I'm so horny, I'm practically dripping. Come fuck me in the showers, yeah? I'll let you titty-fuck these big maracas..."
Michael nearly caved, his resolve crumbling under the smothering weight of Selena's giant, sweaty rack rubbing all over him. The tempting mounds felt like warm, pliant dough against his skin, the stiff points of her nipples searing into him. But he dug deep and refused one final time. "Fuck, you have no idea how badly I want to, Selena. But I can't. I made a promise to someone."
As Michael was walking home from school, still reeling from all the tempting busty offers, a car pulled up alongside him. He did a double take when he saw it was Mrs. Johnson, his voluptuous 35-year-old English teacher.
She leaned across the passenger seat, giving Michael an ample view down her gaping blouse. Her massive, freckled breasts strained against the thin fabric, the outlines of her lacy bra clearly visible. "Hey Michael, need a ride?" she asked with a coy smile.
"Nah, I'm good thanks," he replied.
"Are you sure? I was thinking we could go park somewhere private and...discuss your latest essay."
Michael's eyes widened at the blatant invitation. Mrs. Johnson was notorious for seducing her male students. Rumor had it she'd fucked half the football team in her back seat. The hungry look in her eyes left no doubt what kind of "discussion" she had in mind.
"Gee, thanks Mrs. J, but I really gotta get home," Michael declined, tearing his gaze away from the tantalizing view of her huge, creamy jugs. "I, uh, promised my mom I'd help with dinner."
Mrs. Johnson pouted, her plump bottom lip glistening with gloss. "Aw, can't she spare you for an hour or two? I really think we need to have a...deep, penetrating exploration of your work."
She shifted in her seat, subtly arching her back to make her giant rack jut out even more.
Michael licked his lips, sorely tempted. God, what he wouldn't give to bury his face in Mrs. Johnson's bountiful cleavage and chew, suck and motorboat those big, soft titties. But he stood firm. "Sorry, I can't. Family comes first."
Mrs. Johnson sighed in disappointment but nodded. "Such a good boy. Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me..." With a wink and a jiggle of her huge boobs, she drove off, leaving Michael sweaty and flustered.
Shaking his head, Michael continued walking, only to be stopped again a block later. This time, it was Misty, the pregnant MILF from down the street. At 8 months along, her belly was hugely swollen, but it was nothing compared to her gigantic milk-filled tits. They'd ballooned up to a whopping J-cup, stretching her tank top to the limit.
"Michael, honey, can you help me carry these groceries inside?" Misty called sweetly from her front porch. She was struggling with several heavy-looking bags, her massive rack bobbing and swaying with each movement.
Eager to assist, Michael jogged over and took the bags from her. "Of course, Misty. Let me get those for you." He followed her into the house, trying not to stare too obviously at her colossal, jiggling ass and udders.
Once inside, Misty turned to Michael with a sultry smile. "Thanks so much for the help, sweetie. You know, my hubby's still at work, and my daughter's at her friend's house..."
She sauntered closer, her enormous belly and breasts preceding her. "Which means we have the whole house to myself for a couple of hours."
Misty placed her hands on Michael's chest, gazing up at him through lowered lashes. "I've seen the way you look at me, Michael. At my huge, swollen tits and belly."
She grabbed his hand and placed it on her massive bump. "Have you ever fucked a pregnant mom?"
Michael shook his head and groaned as he felt her belly, firm and taut with new life. His hand crept higher, brushing the heavy underside of her giant milk jugs. "Jesus Misty..." he breathed. The idea of sliding his dick between those massive, veiny tits, squeezing and suckling the swollen nipples, was so tempting. He couldn't help but wonder how plump and engorged her cunt was, how far her swollen clit poked out from beneath its fleshy hood. He'd heard that pregnant women came so fucking hard...
Misty smirked knowingly, pushing her huge udders into his palm. "Mmm, I'm so fucking full of milk. Why don't you have a taste?" She peeled her tank top off, unleashing her gigantic, blue-veined breasts. They hung to her navel, areolas the size of drink coasters. A creamy drop of colostrum beaded at the tip of each nub.
"Fuck..." Michael whispered, transfixed by the sheer size of her baby-feeding jugs. Misty grabbed the back of his head and pulled his face into her cleavage, smothering him in warm, dense tit-flesh.
"Suck mommy's big milkers," she cooed, guiding a fat nipple to his mouth. "Drain these udders while you rearrange my pregnant cunt with that huge cock."
Michael lapped at the leaking bud, savoring the sweet, rich fluid flowing over his tongue. He seal his lips around the fringe of her areola and suckled, feeling her nipple burst inside his mouth, nectar spouting from several ducts and running down his throat.
His cock was rock hard, screaming at him to throw this horny MILF on the table and rut all her holes. Suck and fuck those giant, lactating tits while he pounded her swollen, throbbing gash...
With a Herculean effort, Michael pulled away, panting harshly. "Shit Misty, you have no idea how badly I want to wreck you. Fuck your brains out until your legs shake and my balls are drained dry in your cunt. But...I can't."
Misty pouted, cupping her massive tits and pointing the dripping nipples at him like a lewd offering. "Why not, baby? I need it so bad. I'm desperate for that teenage dick. I'll let you do anything you want to me, any hole..."
Michael clenched his eyes shut and took a deep, shuddering breath. "I can't. Believe me, I want to more than anything. But I made plans for tonight that I absolutely can't miss. I need to save all my sexual energy."
Misty pouted but nodded in understanding. "Must be pretty important plans."
"The most important," Michael said seriously. "I'm sorry."
Misty sighed wistfully. "I understand, darling. You're such a good boy to keep your word, even with a horny slut like me throwing herself at you." She pecked his cheek. "Whoever you made plans with is a very lucky lady. I hope she realizes that."
"Oh she will," Michael promised.
"Mmm, I hope you bust such a good nut inside her," Misty cooed.
"I will," Michael said. "By the time I'm done with her tonight, she'll never forget it. No one will ever fuck her as good as I'm about to."
When Michael finally arrived home, he was immediately greeted by his mom rushing to embrace him. She threw her arms around his neck and pulled him into a hug, crushing her massive breasts against his chest. The hug lingered much longer than a normal maternal embrace, her hands rubbing his back sensually.
As she finally pulled away, Theresa placed a kiss on Michael's cheek, dangerously close to the corner of his mouth. Her plump lips seemed to caress his skin. "Welcome home, sweetie," she purred, her voice husky. "I missed you today."
Michael swallowed hard, trying to ignore the tingling on his cheek where her lips had brushed and the fading warmth of her soft, abundant curves pressed against him. "Missed you too, Mom," he replied, his voice slightly strained.
Theresa linked her arm through his, leaning into his side as she walked him into the living room. Her heavy breasts swayed and jiggled with each step, seeming to rub against him deliberately.
"How was school, honey? Learn anything interesting?" she asked, running her hand up and down his bicep.
"Oh, uh, the usual," Michael stammered, finding it hard to concentrate with his mother's fingertips tracing patterns on his arm. "You know, just... reading and stuff."
Theresa made an interested noise, but her gaze was focused hungrily on his body, trailing over his chest and arms as if sizing up a prime cut of meat. She licked her lips unconsciously.
When they entered his old bedroom, Mark was laying in his hospital-style bed watching TV. He turned at their approach, his eyes widening slightly as he took in the sight of his wife draped over their son, her voluptuous body molded to his side.
"Hi Dad," Michael greeted, shifting uncomfortably under his father's stare. Theresa seemed not to notice the tension, still clinging to Michael.
"Son," Mark replied stiffly. "Good day at school?" His eyes flicked between Michael's face and Theresa's hand possessively squeezing the boy's muscular arm.
"Yeah, it was fine," Michael said quickly.
An awkward silence stretched between the three of them, the air heavy with unspoken knowledge of what was to come. Theresa seemed to press herself even closer to Michael, while Mark watched them with a tight expression.
"Dinner smells great, Mom," Michael said, desperately trying to break the tension. "I'm gonna go wash up." He untangled himself from Theresa's grip and hurried out of the room.
Mark cleared his throat pointedly, drawing Theresa's glazed eyes away from the doorway Michael had just exited. "You certainly seem...affectionate with
him," he remarked, trying to keep his tone neutral even as jealousy ate at him. "Very touchy-feely."
Theresa turned to Mark with an indulgent smile, as if he were a simple child. She sat on the edge of his bed and patted his hand. "Oh honey, I know it must seem like a big change to you. But remember, the dynamic between Michael and I is shifting now."
She gazed at him tenderly, her voice gentle. "I've gone without sexual contact for over a week now. For a woman with needs as powerful as mine, that's an eternity. My body is practically vibrating with pent-up arousal."
Mark swallowed hard, trying not to picture his wife writhing in carnal desperation, her neglected body aflame with anticipation for their son's touch. The vivid image made his stomach turn.
"I...I suppose that's understandable," he allowed hoarsely. "Given the circumstances."
"Exactly," Theresa said, giving his hand a patronizing squeeze. "So you'll have to forgive me if I'm a bit handsy with Michael, a little more physically demonstrative than a typical mother. It's not something I can easily control right now."
Mark flinched at the erotic descriptors. "Still, you were practically undressing him with your eyes just now," he said hoarsely. "I've never seen you look at anyone like that, not even me."
Theresa's eyes softened with sympathy. "I know this isn't easy for you, baby. But you need to accept that Michael and I will be making love to each other tonight. Getting tangled up together as close as two people can be. There's a lot of nervous sexual energy going on right now."
Theresa gave Mark's hand a final pat before rising from the bed. "I better go finish getting dinner ready. You just rest, honey."
She disappeared out of the bedroom, leaving Mark alone with his turbulent thoughts. He sighed heavily, trying to come to terms with the impending
intimate encounter between his wife and son happening under his own roof. It still felt surreal, like a bizarre nightmare he couldn't wake up from.
Lost in his brooding, at first Mark didn't notice the shadowy figures embracing in the hallway. But a flash of movement caught his eye and he turned to see the unmistakable silhouette of Theresa and Michael locked in a passionate clinch, projected on the wall by the hall light.
Mark's blood ran cold as he watched the obscene shadow play. Theresa's voluptuous figure was molded against Michael's taller, muscular one as they kissed deeply. There was no mistaking the erotic nature of their embrace - this was not a chaste peck between mother and son.
Their mouths fused together lewdly, Theresa's hands roaming possessively over Michael's chest and shoulders as he gripped her plush hips. The kiss grew more heated, their lips sliding wetly and tongues visibly tangling. Michael's large hands drifted down to cup Theresa's ample ass, squeezing the fleshy globes and pulling her pelvis flush against his.
Theresa's back arched, pressing her huge breasts into Michael's chest as she stood on her tiptoes, straining to get closer. They devoured each other's mouths, kissing ravenously like long-lost lovers reuniting. Soft smacking sounds and breathy moans drifted from the hallway, making Mark's stomach churn.
As the incestuous couple finally broke their torrid kiss, Theresa gazed up at Michael with heavy-lidded eyes, her lips wet and slightly swollen. She pressed her lush body against his, subtly rolling her hips so that her heated pubis rubbed against the rigid shaft of his erection.
"I can't believe this is finally happening," she murmured huskily, her voice thick with arousal. "Are you as nervous and excited as I am, sweetie? Knowing that in just a few hours, we'll be naked in bed together, your big fat cock pushing and pulsing inside me?"
Michael groaned brokenly, his hands kneading her plush ass cheeks as he dry humped against her. "I'm fucking dying, Mom. The anticipation is killing me."
Theresa whimpered, her eyes fluttering shut in bliss at the delicious friction. "Mmmm, I can feel how ready you are for me, baby. That big teenage cock is throbbing for Mommy's pussy, isn't it?"
"So fucking bad," Michael panted.
Theresa pressed her lips to Michael's ear, her hot breath tickling his skin as she whispered the filthiest, most explicit promises. "Oh baby, the things I'm gonna let you do to me tonight... I'm gonna surrender my body completely to you, let you indulge every depraved fantasy."
She licked the shell of his ear before continuing in a dirty purr. "I want you to pound my wet pussy into oblivion with that massive cock. Just jackhammer my tight cunt until it's red and puffy and gushing all over your shaft."
Michael groaned harshly, his hips jerking as he ground his steely erection against her mound. Theresa ran her tongue along his neck, tasting his sweat.
"Suck on my huge titties while you fuck me. Bury your face in my soft, pillowy cleavage and motorboat me until you nearly suffocate. Bite and tug on my fat nipples until I scream," she demanded breathlessly.
"Unnngh fuck Mom..." Michael panted, squeezing her plump asscheeks harder.
"I need that wicked tongue of yours lapping at my greedy cunt too," Theresa went on, her voice dripping with dirty lust. "Eat my sloppy pussy like it's your last meal. Shove your tongue deep in my honey pot and slurp up all my juices."
She reached down to palm his rigid cock through his jeans, feeling the giant slab throb against her hand.
"And this ass..." Theresa purred, wiggling her thick booty against his groping hands. "I want you to worship it. Kiss and lick every inch of my juicy ass. Spread my cheeks wide and tongue-fuck my tight little asshole until it's slick and loose and ready for your dick."
Michael made a strangled sound, his cock jerking in her grip. Theresa grinned wickedly.
"That's right baby, Mommy wants it in the ass tonight," she revealed in a filthy rasp. "I'm gonna let you sodomize me, shove that huge teenage cock balls deep in my shithole and ream me out. Pump my bowels full of your jizz."
"Holy shit," Michael whimpered, leaking pre-cum. The depravity of his mother's desires almost made him bust right there.
"Mmmm, don't worry baby. Mommy's gonna take real good care of you too," Theresa promised wickedly. "I'm gonna suck your cock so fucking good, like a Hoover vacuum. Swallow every fucking drop of jizz from those swollen balls. You'll forget all about those silly little girls and their amateur blowjobs once you've experienced Mommy's expert mouth."
She licked a slow stripe up his neck before purring in his ear. "I can't wait to drink down all your yummy teenage spunk. You're gonna feed Mommy's hungry cum tank over and over tonight until my belly is sloshing with your seed. Paint my face and huge tits with it too. Mark me as yours."
Michael closed his eyes, fighting for control. His balls felt painfully heavy and full, desperate to empty inside his mother's welcoming holes. "Jesus Christ, Mom..." he rasped. "Keep talking like that and I'm gonna bust a nut in my pants before we even make it to bed."
Theresa giggled naughtily, running her hand along the throbbing column of flesh straining against Michael's zipper. "Mmm, we can't have that, baby. I need this big load saved for our ravenous maiden voyage tonight."
Michael groaned at the mental image, his cock twitching urgently in his pants. He took a few deep breaths, trying to will his raging hard-on into submission. It was a struggle - his teenage hormones were raging out of control, every cell in his body screaming to throw his mother down and mount her right there in the hallway.
Theresa seemed to be in a similar state of barely restrained desire. Her massive breasts heaved with each labored breath, fat nipples visibly poking through her bra and thin t-shirt like tasty gumdrops.
The flimsy cotton was damp with her perspiration, molding to the bountiful, heavy globes. They jiggled heavily with even the slightest movement, ripe and ready for manhandling.
Further south, her crotch was a swamp of arousal. The crotch of her yoga pants clung wetly to the plump outline of her labia, the drenched fabric turning translucent and highlighting her puffy slit. It gaped slightly, revealing the deep pink folds of her vaginal opening. Viscous strands of her liquid lust seeped through, coating her inner thighs.
The pungent aroma of her dripping pussy saturated the air, filling Michael's nostrils with the tangy musk of ripe, fertile cunt. It made his mouth water and his balls ache, primal instinct urging him to shove his face between those quivering thighs and lap up her essense straight from the source before mounting her and rutting savagely.
For her part, Theresa was transfixed by the throbbing pipe cleaving the front of Michael's jeans. The denim was tented obscenely, barely containing the steel girder of his erection.
The bulbous head strained against his fly, the damp spot of pre-cum expanding by the second. His cock was so engorged, it visibly pulsed with each beat of his heart, looking painfully swollen and in need of release.
Further down, his sack was bloated and churning with a volume well beyond his young years. She could practically hear the cum sloshing around in those virile balls, billions of potent teenage sperm just waiting to flood her womb. The thought made her cunt clench and gush, empty and aching to be stuffed full.
The graphic silhouettes writhed and undulated on the wall, a debauched live-action erotic shadow-puppet show playing out for Mark's horrified eyes.
He watched the unmistakable shape of his wife's hands roam down to cup the obscene bulge tenting his son's pants, watched her stroke the massive tube of cock-meat shamelessly through Michael's pants.
He watched her hook a leg around their son's mid-section, dry humping her hot pussy on the unyielding pipe inside his son's pants. Their hips moved fluidly in counterpoint, synced like well-choreographed dancers dry-fucking their sex-organs together in anticipation for the big gala ball in their new bedroom.
After several endless minutes, they finally broke apart, both panting heavily. Even in silhouette, the sexual tension between them was palpable, their bodies still leaning into each other. Theresa gazed up at Michael with naked adoration, her fingers playing with the short hairs at the nape of his neck.
With a visible shudder, Michael bent to place a lingering kiss on his mom's lips before finally stepping back. She squeezed his hand meaningfully before they parted ways, Theresa heading to the kitchen while Michael went to his new bedroom.
Mark felt nauseous, his head swimming with the passionate exchange he'd just witnessed between his wife and son. That was not an innocent moment of familial affection, but the heated prelude to a sexual tryst. They had kissed and dry-fucked like lovers impatient to consummate their forbidden union, heedless that Mark was in the next room.
He closed his eyes, trying to block out the heart-wrenching images, but they played on a loop in his mind. His beautiful wife, melting into his son's embrace, kissing him with more desire than she had ever shown Mark, even on their wedding day.
TO BE CONTINUED…