I Want You In Me

Ella Lane climbed onto her daughter. Lois felt her chest tighten as the pale thighs settled on either side of her head, causing the mattress to creak. The smell of her mother's pussy wafted into her face, and in the shadow of her, the reporter could see it—the older woman's slit, a wet pink line between white cheeks and white thighs, flesh marbled with blue veins, just a trim of fine grey hairs...and then it descended on her.

Warm, soft flesh pressed against Lois Lane's mouth. A taste filled her pussy, salty and slightly savory, like the kiss of steak on her tongue. The odor that filled her nostrils was like sniffing panties that had ever so gently been warn...clean but distinctly feminine, a musk impossible to replicate or describe, uniquely her own. It reminded the reporter of the days when she had tried on her mother's bras in the mirror, hoping one day to grow into them.

That was when Lois realized, heart thumping, that she was liking her mother's pussy.

It's real, she thought as her mother's pussy bore down on her, the weight pinning the reporter's head to the bed. I can taste it. Where I came from. This is...unbelievable.

Her mother's pussy seemed huge. Lois knew it must be a trick of the darkness, of perspective, but the thighs on either side of her head looked gigantic. The pussy seemed like it was ready to swallow her, and Lois couldn't see her mother's face at all, hidden by the slight sag of the belly, the hills of her breasts. A hand...big, too big, covering the reporter's entire head with her palm...began to press Lois into the mammoth opening, until she could hardly breathe.

"Come on now Lois," Ella Lane's voice boomed, far away. Lois felt, impossibly, a slick wetness against her forehead, the edges of her ears brushing her mother's labia. But that was impossible, all impossible...

"I need you inside of me," the old woman gasped, and it was the last thing that Lois Lane heard as her entire head slipped within the cavernous cunt, back to the place from where she had been born.