Penetrate the Nest -- With Papa Bird in Tow

"...I want my cock," clacked both sets of teeth, and what you could only ascertain was a deep, primal beast that had just now awakened, pivoted, and smelled the roses of divine intervention, "inside the hole that made me." Looking your own mother square in the eye as you said it, you grabbed her by the armpits and lifted her up on her two feet. Gently. "Your hole, mom."

Suddenly, she looked at you with a hitched breath. Through her shirt you could see two prominent points, pushing upon the fabric. And then you looked up, and saw her smile once more. But this time, tinged with a quietly hungry gleam.

"Oh, baby," teetered your mother as, below, she breezily unzipped her pants and tossed them into the hall. "That's just what I was hoping to hear."

Like clockwork, your erect dick throbbed, insatiably, and you stepped forward, sliding one hand around her waist and caressing the top of her bottom right cheek to fold up a neat finger-ful of slim, firm ass without a single objection from her end. (Or rear end.)

You swiveled your head around, then eventually snapped your fingers pointing to the living room sofa. With little, lust-driven time wasted, you pulled her over and pushed the older woman against the couch, her legs making no attempt at friction as she let you guide her across the room. She swiftly bounced against the slightly creaky couch (hence its nickname, Old Creak -- you don't really remember if it was you or your dad that named it anymore) with the same expression she had playing with you and Dana in those old family pictures of yours at the playground, and then the carousel. And so on.

Both hands reached for the bottom hem of her V-neck and pulled upward, exposing her mid-riff. She laughed as you attempted to take off her shirt, pulling it sloppily over her face. "Wait, honey, it's stuck on my elbow."

"Sorry," was your simple reply as you finally let her pull it off herself. When her body was free of its cotton prison, you grabbed the shirt and smothered it across your face before finally throwing it in the general direction of "forward". Hot...damn, raced your steadily choo-ing train engine. Quickly you relieved yourself of your own shirt, then pants, effectively hanging them over the top of the couch seat.

Before you now was your mother's very own, hefty, gloriously naked bosom. It was a soft, bountiful pair that she usually let loose during the eve of summers such as this, and you were glad she did -- made things that much more convenient as you plunged forward and suckled and tongued and sniffed down the valley of her tits. The act caused her to coil a bit. More chuckling escaped her as you grabbed one of her fleshy boobs and squeezed, digging into her smooth skin. Your face was engulfed in the happiest place in the world at that moment; everything else was just white noise as you focused your attention on her picture frame-worthy zongas and slobbered and inhaled.

"Ooh yeah," she hissed as you rolled your tongue along her spare nipple. "Where'd you learn that?"

Plopping out for some air, you asserted, "Anyone can suck a nipple, Mom." Ignoring the playful slap on your head, you then sat up a bit, and grabbed both tits. Indulging yourself, you fondled them generously, staring down at the half naked woman before you as your hands circled and massaged her jugs. "Damn you're so hot."

"Ah-ah-ah," Mom wagged a single finger. "Not exactly the classiest pick-up line in the book, now, is it dear?"

Smirking, you paused your dough-making and leaned over to her ear. "Sorry, Mom. How about 'you're such a hot fuck-hole'. That better?"

Her stomach tensed. But when you found her looking at you, there was only unbridled love in her eyes. "Sweetie," she said with an inscrutable, part-motherly, part-sizzling tone, and one that was remarkably unfazed, "you know you could call me whatever you want."

"Fuck me," you chanted under your breath as you elected to set that into motion that very instant.

Without further warning you slapped your mother's pussy, feeling her heavenly core through her panties. Your eyes widened. They were sopping. Unscrupulously, and with less than amazing technique (but something nevertheless), you rubbed her wet cunt to kingdom come. Two fingers dragged, three, a bucket-ful of them.

She moaned with each motion. By incidental whim you managed to tear a hole through it with one extra plunder, and tsk'd. "Well, you won't be needing these anymore." Gingerly, you pulled them away. Your mom bent her legs towards her to help you pull them out. When they finally made it past her toes, you drew them towards your mother's own face, struck by an idea. "Hey Mom... sniff these."

At first, she just blinked up at you, then back. Your pupils flitted a smidgeon.

It was a brief tangent, and maybe a random one -- but you wanted to see how far this natural slant of compliance could go. What better way to test it than panties to the face?

Collecting herself for a second, your mom glanced at the silky panties in front of her. Then she sunk her nose forward.

"Mmm." She quipped coming back up, "Cherries."

Her willing eyes could've bored into you right then and there.

Oh fuck me.

There was miraculously no need for lube as you moved your hips downward and nestled your fanatical dick into your mother's hairy chute. A mental note to remind her to trim later was succinctly taken. You looked down and she helped position her wet slit. Then, finally, you pushed in with a clean yet powerful thrust.

Just in time, in fact, for the doorknob to twist, the lock mechanism to click loose, and for the wooden slab to swing open.

"Oh!" your mom first grabbed the bottom of the couch for support, then quickly moved her hands over your back. "Agh! Ugh! Yes!" Thrust two, then three, and four. On it went, with each successive moan and vocalization of her pleasure, as the two of you failed to hear the hum of a familiar male voice but a few feet away, and the smatter of shoes against tile.

"Hey hun!" The door slammed back closed, and this time, it didn't go ignored. With a jerk, your head flew up, (and your mother's upside-down). One blink. Then two. No doubts in the pail. There he was: Mr. Doe, the man himself, shucking the tie out from around his collar, in the same room as mother and son with his right side currently to the two of you -- both of you still naked, still actively banging it on the couch; and in his apparent, clearly visible-by-anyone-less-blind-than-a-blind-man midst. His chin tucked and his hands winding over his looped tie, he continued, "How's my lovely lady in red doing, huh?"

Then, with a plaintive, humdrum turn, he looked over to his naked, hot, moaning wife, who was currently being vaginally probed by his much less impressive visual spectacle of a son. He adjusted his sleeves. And walked over, donned that charming I'm-home grin, and kissed his presently moaning wife on her healthily perspiring forehead before traveling over to her tender lips.

It was all you can do to not just yell, or implode, or something, at the scene -- a near mirror to what went down at school earlier, in fact. But this... this was different. All different. You were in the middle of fucking your own mother up her baby maker -- Your own mom! -- while Dad rolled in harboring not a single indication of anything being or even looking amiss, with his usual corny suedes, and went up to her in the middle of said fucking to give her a... nonchalant, romantic... kiss..!!

"Ho-fuck... holy..." Your cock was in a tunnel of bliss; mister mouth, meanwhile...

"Kiddo!" Beating you to it, you felt your dad's large hand upon your head, giving way to a quick ruffling of your hair. In spite of the situation you couldn't resist an internal grimace. Your parents really enjoyed doing that, for some reason. "Looks like you're on edge today." You grew rigid in more ways than one as he followed the comment with a chuckle and remarked, "Taking the charge, too -- and on who else but," he grinned, pushing a strand of hair away from your mother's eye with a gently placed knuckle as you proceeded to unequivocally pound into her pussy, "this precious, beautiful mother of yours."

"Oh, Warren," aforementioned mother gasped for a sliver of air, "he -- arghump! --" Another sharp moan resounded on cue as your mother heaved, then shuddered, and looked up at your dad through her sex-hazed eyes. "He was just so passionate, you should've seen -- OHGH! OH! Gawd -- you, you should've been there to see it! It was so adorable to see our boy so enthusiastic about having sex... eeuughmmfgawd... with his own mother!"

This conversation was getting crazier by the minute. Still, it refused to end. The bigger man shook his head, eyes appreciatively sliding across the amount of flesh on display before him as he began speaking.

"That's just what I'd expect from a man of my blood. My little soldier on Old Creak, a day in on his new adult life." He shook his head faster, standing up. "You are doing an angel's work, son. And from the noises your mother is making, a few imps', too. Please," he followed up earnestly, "let me know if there's anything else you need."

Thrust! "Uh," awkwardly, you looked up to your dad. The both of you stared at each other for an interim, the sound of your mother's moans curling the electricity in the room. The AC was on, you thought. Maybe not. Your eyes shuttered in the aftermath of one particularly tight slide. "No, I'm good."

"Are you sure?"

Thrust! "Er. Urm! Yeah." Panting, you gripped your mom's hips and began plowing into her harder; faster; and oh, the moans. They added magic to your sense of rhythm. "Yeah I'm surre-huurr... but th-urgh--thanks..!"

Nodding, the man in his cleanly tapered, regular haircut patted your shoulder and was about to leave when Mom caught his attention.

"Before you, umf, go, dear, I was, oh, oh, wondering if you could t-turrnnn...essss, yes, off, mmm, t-the water in, ahf, the back..!" Through heavier and heavier breaths, your mother continued trying to speak. "I...ohh! I think... I left it on."

As Warren Doe went to shut off the hose, you felt yourself on the verge. Grabbing her tits, you squeezed them and leaned close.

"Craap, crap, Mom, I think, I think I'm about to cuuum..!" Planting your lips onto hers, you then thrust faster and faster until finally you felt the floodgates really opening this time. I can't believe it, I can't--

Pulling out with an audible pop, you clumsily clawed your way forward. Then you situated mother's face under your bubbling dick, and like whipped cream on a cake, your body shook as your sperm, your creamy seed, spewed out of our dick. It trickled across your mother's nose and cheeks and mouth, and you coarsely traced it down to her lovely, heaving breasts, emptying all of your warm sex fuel onto your own mother's smooth, arresting body. Almost criminally so.

In a plop of resignation, you fell against your mom's breathless figure, eyes fluttering.

Amazing.

breath, breath

Sex.... breath... was amazing.

But not just any sex. This kind of sex... was amazing.

Unreal, you could cite.

"Ha," said your lungs as you basked in the warmth of another woman's body.

You nearly didn't process the kiss on your scalp as your mother caressed your butt-cheek, lost as you were in an afterglow of equal parts disbelief, acceptance, and what seemed like ecstasy. The first real, complete sexual experience you ever took the whole mile; your official graduation from out-dated virginity. Here.

With your very own, precious, beautiful mother, whose dark-brown shoulder length hair sat slightly rustled but still attractively along her face and shoulders. Nothing sat between you two now; nothing but your semen, anyway.

Suddenly, Dad's voice slunk out from the kitchen. "Honey? You had anything planned for dinner?"

Promptly, Mom turned her head against the armrest. "Sorry babe, I was planning to squeeze some fish fillet in with Margaret after I finished hosing the flower bed, but, well... after this tryst with John, I gotta say I'm pretty drained at the moment. Do you think you could get some take-out?"

Dad emerged from the kitchen, an understanding expression across his face. "Sure thing, hon." As he went towards the door, his previous buttoned shirt mitigated, he took out his phone. "Anything you want in particular?"

A thoughtful look crossed your mom's brow. "...Hana's?"

Dad's eyes glimmered. "Spicy chicken?"

"Spicy chicken," the naked woman liberally echoed.

With a laugh, the two blew quick, simple air kisses and your dad took one step out the door before pausing. "Oh, sorry sport. You want the usual, right?"

"Er," you dozily dragged your chin up your mother's chest. When you looked, you saw both your father and mother casually looking back at you, all smiles, and homely. What made you gulp, however, was the face of the latter; she still had your baby-batter all over her pretty face, even while talking to Dad! They just looked at you, as if the burden of reason was on you. On you.

Your dick resuscitated itself and you cleared your throat.

"Yeah, the usual's fine. Thanks."

Conclusively, the three of you waved goodbye. Then he escaped into the dusk and closed the door. After he left, it was just you, the furniture, and dear mother once again, and you were starting to feel a little sleepy. Your mom looked at you, and upturned a lip. "Tired, sweetie?"

"Just a bit," vaguely put, your reply was given another small smile.

"Well, get some rest then." She shook her head, entailed by another sparse laugh. "I just helped take your virginity, my very own rascal's, so. I'm pretty sure we're both a little exhausted, to say the least."

"Hah... something like that."

"In any case..." Your mom pushed herself up, swinging her legs over the couch. You moved to the other side, your naked dick swinging through plain, room-temperature air. She looked back to you. "I'm probably going to go take a quick shower. If you need anything else, just let me know, okay, young man?" Then, she patted your knee and stood up, collecting her clothes from the floor and hanging them over her arm before heading to the bath. Watching her ass sway away, you noted how they seemed to leave a kind of bread crumb trail, and laughed silently to yourself at the joke. Even if it wasn't really funny. Or a joke.