Once he understood Joan was not in any pain, that she wanted to be fucked, he fucked her gloriously. Joan loved the sweet-sensation of his hard cock fucking in and out of her cunt, going deep and spreading those hot cunt lips until she was clutched in the heat of multiple orgasms – orgasms that shattered her young body with ecstasy. As he fucked her, Joan lost count of the times she came, but when the fuck was over, her cunt was drenched with come juice, inside and out. Her naked little body shuddered for ten minutes after he removed his cock, her flesh glowing and her eyes shining with pleasure.
Although her father was partial to having his cock sucked off and liked to lick her tasty, sugary cunt, they fucked often, too. He enjoyed the hot tightness of his daughter's sugary pussy clinging to his hard prick, telling Joan her cunt was almost like her mouth. He told her that she had a hot little pussy that nibbled and sucked on his cock almost in the same way her mouth and tongue did. He had called her cunt, much to her amusement, a snapping pussy.
Joan did not know what caused this unusual ability, but she didn't question it. All she knew was that she seemed to have been blessed with a cunt that men liked, a cunt that would gnaw and suck on a cock by its own volition, without any effort from her. It was automatic, and every time a cock entered her cunt, her pussy began to perform that feat without conscious thought from her. Joan was aware that her cunt was doing it, but it was totally involuntary on her part.
She remembered all that as she lay on her bed, her feet now drawn underneath so she could arch her hairy cunt high, her knees spread wide. The wall opposite her bed was almost a solid mirror, and she watched her hair-lined pussy as she moved a finger about her inflamed clit.
It was a hungry cunt, a greedy cunt, a cunt that demanded fucking by a tongue or cock. It was a cunt that loved hard cock more than anything in the world, and her pussy never seemed to get enough.
Watching her reflected cunt in the mirrored wall, her knees very wide, seeing the cheeks of her creamy, rounded, tight ass clench, she fucked her finger in and out, making herself come in a series of explosive orgasms.
As she produced these exquisite ripples of delight, she let her mind return to the present, and to the cocks of Eric and Marty, her two sons…
CHAPTER TWO
It was a beautiful, warm summer day, and Joan was going to get some cock.
She had not had a nice hard cock inside her cunt for over three months, and she wanted one desperately. She had gone the usual route of the divorcee – found a decent cocktail lounge, allowed herself to be picked up by some man, got fucked in some dingy motel room that made her feel like some five-dollar whore, then forgot the guy.
Those quick fucks were okay as far as they went. Most of them were satisfying enough, from a physical standpoint, but Joan wanted a great deal more than one-night stands. She required a closeness she had not found in any of those men, an emotional closeness. Without that, fucking was not nearly as good. But Joan did not want to become so emotionally involved with a man that it would lead to marriage.
She was quite content and happy enough to be alone with her two boys, Eric and Marty.
Both her boys were caring of her, showing their affection in many ways. They, unlike most boys of those ages, would find and bring her wild flowers as they came home from school. They were not wild boys, causing her no trouble at all. She was very proud of them, and rightly so.
The boys were one year apart in age, and Eric, the oldest, was doing his best to cultivate a few hairs on his upper lip. Marty was almost beside himself with envy because he had not a single hair he could point to.
The boys seldom squabbled among themselves as most brothers do. They even helped her about the house. Most boys thought wash big dishes was a girl's job, but not her Eric and Marty. They often surprised her by cleaning the whole house as she slept late.
Somehow, a sixth sense told her she would have no difficulty in seducing either of her sons. It was nothing she could place a finger on, but was just a feeling, a hunch. There had been a few times when she was certain they had tried to peek under her dress. She knew, however, that they had been looking at her body in the way boys did when they wanted some pussy from a woman. She had, too, seen the sweet lumps inside their jeans when they had hard-ons. She suspected they were jacking off, either alone or together. With her knowledge, she knew boys did those things when erotic desires began to bubble hotly in those young balls.
She had gone through it.
She knew…
Boys, like girls, were very curious. She, even though older and a mother, was still as curious as she had been at their age.
It did not require much courage for Joan to select and seduce. It did not require a great deal of intelligence to know she could easily seduce Eric and Marty. Although she was not really an aggressive woman, she could take matters into hand when necessary. She could, when called upon, be the aggressor, the instigator, the teacher.
And it was called for now, she felt.
The boys would never make a pass unless she let them know she was willing.
Eric was not home, but Marty was.
So her youngest son was selected first.
"Marty," she called from the kitchen, "please come and give me a hand, honey."
He came in, and she told him to brace the high stool as she wiped the top of the cupboard down. When her son was holding the stool, Joan climbed up, making sure her dress came up to reveal her creamy thighs. Standing on the very top of the stool she went up on tiptoe, pretending to wipe at the shelves. Her skirt moved past her knees, and she glanced down to see if her son was peeking.
He was.
Oh, how he was, she thought with a rush of pleasure.
Marty's head came to the bottom of his mother's skirt, and he was looking up underneath it. Joan saw the hot gleam in his dark eyes and recognized the desire there.
Marty was looking hotly under his mother's dress, seeing her long, tantalizing thighs, her lacy panties. The panties were bikini, sheer with frilly lace all about them. The dark shadow of her cunt hair could be seen easily past the sheer material. The sight was giving Marty a powerful hard-on.
"Oh, hold my legs, honey!" Joan said, pretending to shake. "Don't let me fall."
His hands gripped his mother's knees, and he kept his gaze turned up under her dress. Joan lifted a foot, bending at the knee and pretending to reach higher. She swung her uplifted foot wide, and Marty stared directly into the lovely crotch of his mother.
That was enough to excite him, she thought. Placing her foot back on the stool, she said, softly, "Help me down, baby, don't let me fall."
Marty's hands slid along his mother's thighs as she squatted on the stool, preparing to slide her feet off. His hands touched the lacy panties, and Joan gave a husky laugh but said nothing. She slipped her feet from the stool, and his hands failed to move. She felt the back of her skirt catch on the stool so that when she was on her feet the dress was caught at her hips, her long, beautiful thighs exposed. She placed her hands on Marty's shoulders as he pulled his hands from her hips.
Looking down into his face, she said very softly, "You got yourself an eyeful that time, didn't you, darling?"
"Yeah!" Marty said, grinning, not at all embarrassed. "I sure did, Mom."
She kissed his cheek quickly. "You little shit," she whispered affectionately. "Peeking up mother's skirt that way."
"You didn't mind," he said.
"That's right, I didn't care," Joan laughed, the sound throaty. "I'll even let you see more."
With that, she pulled her dress to her waist and leaned against the stool.
"Look all you want, honey," she whispered in a thick voice, her eyes hot as she looked to the straining front of his pants. "Take a very good look at me."