John stirred in his sleep and groaned. He moved and his mouth brushed against her stomach. Absently, Sally stroked his face with her hand. The boy moved again and she realized too late that he was turning, that he was pushing across her legs.
When he was still, his face was buried in her lap. Oh, dear! she thought. He'll smell my cunt! She was so embarrassed by the sudden consideration that she almost ran off the road.
And then Sally had something else to think about. The twelve-year-old's heavy breathing went right through the thin fabric of her skirt. Not only could he smell her twat, but her cunt could feel the steady, hot strokes of his breath.
It was like a feather being brushed up and down her slippery slot. Each movement was a sudden thrill and she felt her twat responding. In seconds it was brimming wet with sex juice.
She shifted her ass back and forth on the seat. But that didn't help. The furry seat just teased the backs of her legs and buttocks even more. Her twat lips were twisting frantically and despite herself, Sally felt her cunt being invaded again by sexual feeling.
What am I going to do? Sally felt like breaking down and crying. Her son hated her, she knew. He'd tell his father and that would be the end of everything. The night rushing past wasn't as dark as Sally's thoughts. The beam of the headlights turned everything gray in the cold shaft of light. Dismal. Discouraging.
John moved his head and nestled his face harder in her lap. His mouth and nose were closer to her cunt. His hot breath was like a blow-torch scorching the moist, red labia that guarded her hole.
Sally squirmed again. She knew she had to keep from being turned on. If she couldn't keep her son's innocent touch from heating her up how could she ever trust herself again.
But the truth was, Sally couldn't trust herself. John moaned in his sleep and arched his body. His face pressed against her sex slot through the thin material of her skirt. It paralyzed Sally.
Then he moved again and her skirt gathered up toward her waist. His cheek was on her bare thigh, his nose was practically buried in her fevered crotch.
There was nothing Sally could do. She couldn't let go of the steering wheel to move his head. And if she did, she risked waking him to stare straight down her skirt at the moist red cavern of her sex.
She held herself rigid, staring down the road. And when it came, it was no surprise. At least, not the surprise it might have been.
Sally instantly recognized the warm, fevered touch of a hot tongue brushing her swollen sex lips. Her son's hot, fevered tongue.
'Don't, John,' she said. 'Please don't.'
The twelve-year-old son wasn't listening, though. His tongue continued, to stroke her hapless hole. The movements were swift and sure and suggested practice at cunt lapping. Each touch was a little different. Sally even moaned as the boy twirled his tongue in the entrance of her snatch. Without taking her foot off the gas, she spread her legs.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The ride down the highway was unmatched by anything in Sally's experience. Sally was in a haze of sexual excitement most of the time. Holding on to the wheel and steering from habit rather than experience, Sally whimpered and cried almost constantly because John's attention was constant.
The boy was an accomplished cunt-lapper. Sally twisted and raised herself. Anything was possible for her as she felt her son's tongue stroking mercilessly in and out of her gaping twat.
'Yes, John,' she moaned. 'Tongue fuck Mommy.' Her butt bounced on the car seat and the automobile lurched uncertainly under her moving foot. She screamed when he put his hand under her blouse and began playing with her tits. His fingers were a thousand times more practiced than his brother's as he played with her soft breasts. Her nipples stood out like rosettes begging to be manipulated.
Finally John raised his head under her blouse and his hot mouth clamped on her suckable breast and he laved it with his tongue. His sharp little teeth nipped at the tips until Sally thought he was going to draw blood.
'Please don't do that any more,' Sally whimpered.
But his hand crept between her thighs, then. His fingers were small but clever. They slid along the seat and played with Sally's erect clitoris until she raised her ass and let him slid his hand deeper under her and when she settled down it, was to impale her own hole on a waggling, playful finger.
That finger filled her. It was like a small cock. Even her breathing caused it to react with her hyped-up nervous system. Her crotch convulsed and convulsed and convulsed, sucking and pulling at John's finger like it was the last one in the world.
'Oh God, oh God, oh God!!!!' Sally's moans were frantic. She rose to a peak and fell and rose again. She never escaped from the fantastic sexual excitement that had her in its clasp. Her orgasm eluded her by millimeters. And it was fortunate it did. Otherwise she would have been swallowed by her own ecstasy and have let the car careen down the highway guided only by its own whims.
'Fuck me,' she cried desperately. 'Oh, John, please fuck me!'
But being fucked while she drove the car was impossible. John responded to her frantic cries with frantic movements, but Sally had to be content with his tongue and his hands playing with her boobs and twat, rotating and doing it again.
She didn't even notice when Tommy came to the front of the car and hung his head over the back of the front seat and watched his brother eat out his mother's cunt and finger fuck her like crazy.
When she pulled up in front of the cabin it must have been close to ten o'clock. Sally scrambled out of the car and was embarrassed to discover her skirt was crumpled around her waist and she was standing, even in the dark, naked from the waist down.
Frantically she smoothed her skirt over her hips and then tried to take a step. Her legs wouldn't hold her and she almost fell when her knees half buckled. She was dizzy from the constant sexual excitement she had experienced and her cunt was swollen and aching. Her tits were equally sensitive, swollen from being chewed and sucked mercilessly for half the night.
'Oh, my poor pussy,' she whimpered and put her hand under her skirt to hold it. Her fingers were cool and non-sexual and they gave her the energy she needed to open the cabin door and go inside. The boys followed along behind her.
Hal had bought the cabin a few years earlier and had it fixed up for the four of them. The fireplace was free standing in the middle of the cabin and the cabin was divided into three parts. The main room which also had Hal and Sally's bed took up half of the cabin and the front of the massive stone fireplace. The back half of the cabin was half bedroom and half kitchen with a tiny enclosed bathroom dividing the front and the back. The fireplace was backed with a huge piece of steel plate and although the fire couldn't be seen from that side, the heat could be felt.
Sally helped the kids haul the stuff in from the station wagon. She was in a stupor even when she locked the vehicle and when she was inside again it was an effort to ignite the logs in the fireplace with a butane fireplace lighter before she fell into bed.
Tommy and John seemed disappointed by her resolution to go to sleep so soon. 'Can we stay in here with you, Mommy?' Tommy asked.
Staring into the flickering flames and feeling the comforting heat of the fireplace, Sally said, 'All right,' without thinking about her decision at all.
She pulled the sheets up to her chin and struggled out of her skirt and blouse and threw them on the floor beside the bed. And then she slipped into a troubled sleep in which she saw a multitude of naked imps cavorting in front of the fires of hell playing with each other's erect penises.
Sally woke minutes or hours later. She didn't know which. The fire had burned down to embers and the cabin was still toasty with warm air. She was surprised when she opened her eyes. She was still sleepy. And then she discovered the reason she was awake.
A small hand was creeping across her naked stomach to stroke her poor, battered pussy. Suddenly she knew why little boys were likened to satyrs. They never quit playing their little sex games!
