The mother confronts her daughter about watching her have sex with her son. The sister blackmails her into a kinky lesbian game while her brother cuckolds
This story takes place right after Part 2 -> Halloween Taboo-saster 2 – Halloween Taboo-saster 2 – Mom’s seizure orgasm with son was caught by sister <- For the best experience, read part 1 & 2 first!
Diane and her son stared at each other, frozen with wide eyes. Then it detonated. They exploded into motion, scrambling, frantic. Diane grabbed an old blouse from the dirty laundry pile and wiped the cum from her chest, her face, her neck—hastily, smearing. She buttoned the cardigan with shaking fingers, then reached for her jeans. James had already shoved himself back into his pants and now he was tugging at her pants, yanking the tight denim up over her hips. “Come,” he snorted, breathless, desperate. “Quick, Mom. Before she runs to Dad.”
The jeans fought her, tight over her hips, but they closed. They sprinted into the hallway, hearts hammering. Suddenly Diane froze, her hand shooting out, clamping over James’s mouth, stopping him cold. Her finger pressed to her lips. “Shhh.” From the living room, Robert’s snoring rumbled loud and steady, oblivious, safe. Diane lowered her hand, her voice barely a breath. “She’s not with him,” she whispered, her eyes wide, wild. “Her room. We go to her room.”
They hurried, panic still vibrating through them, but silent now. James pushed open Sarah’s door, slipped in, closed it soft but fast behind them, the click of the lock barely audible. Sarah sat at her desk, laptop open, her back to them, fingers hovering over the keys like she was typing, studying. But her shoulders were rigid, her spine straight as a rod, her neck flushed. She didn’t turn around. She didn’t need to, the air in the room was aready charged.
Diane didn’t pause. She crossed the room in three strides, grabbed the office chair by its backrest, yanked it hard, spinning Sarah around. She slammed both hands onto the armrests, leaning over, caging her daughter in, a threatening tent. Their faces were inches apart, forehead almost touching forehead, Diane’s eyes twitching with rage, her breath hot and fast. “What did you see?” she snarled, her voice low, shaking, dangerous.
Sarah’s face twisted into a snarl, disgusted, unimpressed. She didn’t flinch, didn’t shrink back. Her eyes held her mother’s, cold and sharp. She spat the words dry. “Everything,” she said, her voice flat. “From when you rode him against the wall.”
James swallowed hard, the color draining from his face. Diane’s nostrils flared, trembling, her composure cracking at the edges. She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a hiss, trying to be threatening, massive, terrifying. “You tell your father,” she breathed, her jaw tight, her eyes black, “and I will make your life hell. Do you understand me? I will destroy you.”
The words hit Sarah like a slap. For a second, her mask cracked, something vulnerable flickering in her eyes, her mouth trembling. Then it hardened, froze over, ice cold. She sat up straighter, her voice rising, loud now, uncontrolled. “You already make my life hell!” she spat, her face inches from her mother’s, flecks of spit flying. “You don’t know me. You don’t care about me. It’s always James, James, James!” Her voice broke, then steadied deadly. “And now… you’re even fucking him.”
Diane’s rage spiked, feeding off her daughter’s chaos. They were the same, both of them, escalating, spiraling, until the explosion. Her hands gripped the armrests tighter, knuckles white, her face darkening. “Watch your mouth,” she warned, her voice lower now, deadlier, shaking with restraint. “Watch what you say to me, Sarah. I’m serious. I’m warning you.”
Sarah snapped. The stress and the tension all of it broke at once. Her voice raw, hysterical, accusations pouring out like poison. “You treat me like a foster child!” she shrieked, tears welling up now, her fists clenched. “Like I’ll never amount to anything! Every mistake, you punish me with silence for weeks! You hate my friends, my clothes, my hair—even my fucking nose ring, you almost killed me for it!” She was shaking, convulsing with sobs and rage, her face red, spit flying, completely unraveling.
James stood frozen, pity flickering in his chest, but Sarah didn’t stop. “Only Dad loves me,” she sobbed, her voice breaking, raw, desperate. “And I… I worship you, Mom. I always have. I don’t know what to do anymore. And now you’re destroying everything. You’re fucking James. You’re destroying our family. You’ll both go to prison. You’ll both go to hell.”
Diane took it, blow after blow, her facade crumbling, her mouth opening but no words coming out. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t defend herself. And then Sarah escalated completely. Her hands shot up, claws digging into Diane’s cardigan, gripping the fabric, yanking her mother closer, her face twisted, desperate, insane. “If you’re doing this,” she panted, her voice raw, breaking, “then do it completely! Fuck me too! FUCK ME!” She was shaking, convulsing. “Show me you love me, just once, Mom, please, fucking show me!”
Diane couldn’t react in time. She toppled forward, falling onto her daughter, the chair groaning under their combined weight, their knees hitting the floor hard, ungently. “Stop,” Diane gasped, but Sarah didn’t stop. She grabbed her mother’s head with both hands and pressed Diane’s face into her cleavage, hard, smothering her, her fingers tangled in Diane’s hair. James rushed forward, grabbed both their shoulders, his voice sharp. “Enough! Stop this!” He tried to pull them apart, but Sarah’s head snapped around and she bit him, her teeth sinking into his forearm, hard, vicious. James stumbled back, clutching his arm, pain shooting through him, shock on his face.
Sarah snarled at him, her teeth bared. “Leave it,” she hissed. Then her hands shot to Diane’s face, gripping her cheeks, pulling her head up, forcing them eye to eye, forehead to forehead, their noses touching. Sarah’s breath was hot, ragged, desperate. “You have no choice,” she panted, her voice trembling with power and need. “You do this, or I tell Dad. I tell everyone. I ruin you both.”
Diane swallowed hard, her throat clicking. She realized it then, the truth settling like lead in her stomach—she was trapped, completely, by her own daughter. If she wanted any semblance of a normal life, she had no choice. Her jaw tightened, teeth grinding, her eyes closing for one defeated second. Then she opened them and waited, silent, broken. Sarah leaned in, her lips brushing Diane’s ear, her voice a whisper, blackmail and love twisted together. “I love you, Mom,” she breathed. “I’ll show you. Than you show me you love me too.” She pulled back, her eyes hard, commanding. “Crawl onto the bed. Lie on your back. Now.”
Diane obeyed. She crawled onto the bed, broken, slow, her movements mechanical, defeated. She dragged herself up the mattress and settled back against the big pillows, her head resting, her eyes empty. Sarah straightened up, turned, and looked at James. She pointed to the chair she sat on, her finger steady, her voice cold and sharp. “Sit,” she commanded. “Watch. You’re not the only one she loves.”
Sarah looked down at her mother, her gaze shifting, uncertain at first, then hardening, turning cold but lustful. She raised her arms, her hands gathering her long brown hair, twisting it, braiding it back from her face. As she lifted her arms, her brown blouse pulled tight across her chest, the dark buttons straining, the fabric stretching over her small, firm breasts. The sleeves rode up, showing her smooth, pale forearms. Her black pants hugged her hips, the belt cinched tight, the gold ring in her left nostril catching the light as she tilted her head. She was nineteen and her body tight and young, but her eyes were hungry. She finished the braid, her hands dropping, and she stood there, looking down at Diane, ready to take what was hers.
James sat on the desk chair, his face now marked by uncertainty and discomfort, where just moments before it had been twisted with lust. Sarah climbed onto the bed like a cat, slow, deliberate, crawling on all fours up toward Diane. “You don’t find me attractive, do you, Mom?” she asked, her voice soft, rhetorical, dangerous. She came closer, her hand reaching out, stroking enticingly up Diane’s thigh, over the mom jeans, feeling the heat. “I don’t understand why,” she whispered, crawling higher, up her torso, her hand sliding over the cream cardigan, feeling the buttons, the fabric. She traced one finger down the button placket, slow, deliberate, her nail catching slightly on the amber buttons. “I dress just like you,” she breathed, her voice breaking, vulnerable. “And you still don’t like it.”
Diane’s upper lip twitched, uncertain, her eyes dropping down, looking at her daughter, then at herself. She had to admit it, internally, silently—Sarah looked like her, like she had been at nineteen. Lovely, beautiful, her own image reflected back. But she’d never thought about women, never considered it. She stammered, her voice soft, broken. “That’s not true,” she said, uncertain. “I find you very sweet. Very beautiful.” She paused, swallowed hard, the truth coming out. “But I’m not… I don’t like women. Not like that.”
Sarah crawled higher, hesitating for one heartbeat, gathering her courage, even in dominance needing to push through one last barrier. She sighed, playful, broken. “Then I didn’t get that from you, Mom,” she whispered. She reached Diane’s head, leaned in, cheek pressing against cheek, her lips at her mother’s ear, her voice hot, filthy, desperate. “I love women,” she breathed. “I want women. I’m a lesbian, Mom. A fucking lesbian.” Her voice cracked, anger mixing with need. “You never saw it. Never cared. Or didn’t want to know. I never dared say it BECAUSE OF YOU.”
Diane gasped, a frightened, sharp intake of breath. Her eyes went wide, frozen, sharing a shocked look with James across the room. Her breathing quickened. She’d never wanted this, never imagined her children anything but straight, married, giving her grandchildren. The thought of anything else had disgusted her, repelled her. But now… Sarah’s tender body pressing down on her, the wet, lustful voice in her ear, the heat, the weight. It wasn’t just shock anymore. It was desire, unexpected, terrifying, rising in her chest, in her stomach, between her legs. Desire she’d never known she could feel.
Sarah snorted, condescending, hot against her ear. “I knew you weren’t ready,” she whispered. Then she nibbled, tender, teeth catching the lobe, her tongue tracing the shell. “Lisa,” she breathed. “Maya. Jessica. You know them.” Her voice dropped, filthy, explicit. “How sweet their wet pussies are on my tongue. I tasted all my friends…” She pulled back slightly, her lips still at Diane’s ear, her hand sliding down, cupping her mother through the jeans. “But you’ll love women soon,” she whispered. “At least one. Me.”
Images spun in Diane’s head—birthday parties, Sarah and her friends dressed as princesses, fairies, pink and glitter, innocent. Now she saw them, transformed, young women, legs spread, mouths on each other, wet and hungry. Her brain screamed at her to feel disgust, revulsion, to push Sarah away. But her stomach fluttered, tingled, warmth spreading. She defended herself, desperate, her voice breaking. “I love you,” she gasped. “Without all this. I do. I really do.”
“I’d like to believe you,” Sarah whispered, her lips brushing Diane’s throat. “But you haven’t shown me. Not in so long.” She kissed her way down, tender, loving, from neck to collarbone, into the décolletage. Diane squirmed, resisting at first, then melting, giving in to the softness, the gentleness she’d never expected from her fierce daughter. Sarah reached the top closed button of the cardigan, paused, pressed an exaggerated, playful kiss to the amber button, then looked up, grinning. “You look so cute in this,” she breathed. “All day. I noticed.”
Diane didn’t know how to react. Blackmail, then tenderness, the shift dizzying, disarming. Her mind refused the warmth, tried to hold the anger, but her body betrayed her, her lips twitching upward, her eyes softening despite herself. She felt the enjoyment, unwanted, undeniable. Uncertain, quiet, she breathed the word. “Thanks.”
Sarah smirked, her fingers finding the top button, undoing it with a soft pop. “I want to see what’s behind your little buttons, Mom,” she breathed, her voice reverent, hungry. Slowly, one by one, she opened all four big plastic buttons, relishing each one, then pushed the cardigan aside, revealing her mother’s soft, maternal body. She placed both hands on Diane’s belly, stroking upward, feeling the warmth, the slight softness, the weight of her. She reached the heavy, hanging breasts, her tender hands pressing into the white flesh, kneading, and her own body trembled, a shiver running through her. She moaned, quiet, broken. “I love bodies like this,” she whispered. “So much.”
Diane couldn’t suppress it, no matter how hard she tried. A deep, rumbling moan escaped her, guttural, involuntary. Sarah’s hands felt too good, too right, kneading her flesh, worshipping her. Across the room, James watched, his discomfort fading, replaced by something hotter, heavier. His pants grew tight, his cock stirring, hardening. His sister and mother, touching, bodies pressed together, right in front of him. He found it arousing, undeniably, painfully arousing.
Sarah kneaded the soft, hanging udders, relishing the weight, the warmth. She loved natural bodies like this, hot, soft, not flat boards but something to grab, to hold. She leaned forward, her own small breasts pressing into Diane’s soft belly, her face lowering, burying itself between her mother’s tits. She pressed the heavy flesh against her cheeks with both hands, snuggling in, nuzzling, dropping tender kisses all over, her voice muffled, filthy, praising. “Perfect,” she moaned. “These perfect tits, Mom. Made for young needy girls like me.”
Diane looked down, watching her daughter’s face buried in her exposed breasts, nuzzling, worshipping, working them. Her breathing turned irregular, ragged, and she bit her lip, hard, involuntary, trying to hold back. She wanted to fight this, resist, but Sarah’s cute face, the way she totally got off on her tits, the hunger in her eyes—it made her wet, made her ache. She said nothing, just nodded, barely perceptible, her chest heaving with deep, shuddering breaths.
Sarah felt it, the shift, the surrender, her mother’s resistance crumbling. She gave the soft hanging tits a few more kisses, tender, worshipping, then moved lower, her lips trailing down Diane’s belly. She licked, slow, relishing the taste, the softness, pressed her face into the flesh, nuzzling. Her hands wandered down, finding the waistband of the mom jeans, fingers working the button, the zipper. “Look at this body,” she breathed, filthy. “Soft, warm, made for fucking. My mother’s body. I’m going to eat you up, Mom.”
Diane’s lust built, watching her girl worship her, hearing words she’d never expected, not from a woman, not from her own daughter. In one last desperate uprising, she whispered, lying to herself, trying to stop this. “You don’t have to,” she breathed, her voice breaking. “I love you anyway. Believe me. You don’t have to do this.”
Sarah’s hand grabbed into Diane’s waistband, gripping panties and jeans together, her front teeth biting down on her lower lip, hard, necessary. She nodded, trance-like, her eyes glazed with lust, fixed on her mother. “I have to fuck you now,” she breathed, her voice trembling, desperate. “I can’t resist anymore.” She pulled, slow, deliberate, the jeans sliding down, the panties with them, over her hips, her thighs, her calves, off her feet, discarded. Between Diane’s legs, her bush came into view—dense, dark, completely unmanaged, a wild thick tangle of hair that had grown untouched for weeks, matted now, wet from James’s fuck and her own squirting, musky, smelling of sex. Sarah stared, her breath catching, her mouth watering.
Sarah stuck a finger between her teeth, biting down, embarrassed, her eyes locked on her mother’s bush. Slowly, she let her hand wander, from her lips, down her chin, over the button placket of her tight brown blouse, down to her own lap. She stroked herself through her black pants, her hips bucking slightly. “So hairy mom,” she breathed, her voice reverent. “Thick, hairy, natural. I’ve never came to try one.” Her free hand reached out, trembling, approaching Diane’s mound. She let her fingertips disappear into the hair, sinking in,. A moan escaped her. “Oh god,” she whispered. “Mom.”
Diane watched her daughter writhe, saw her fingers sink into her bush, felt the reverence, the hunger. She’d always shaved before, kept herself smooth, but this year—so little sex, so little point. The bush had grown, untamed, and she’d never minded it, never found it disturbing. Now it was being worshipped. Diane’s breath came fast through her nose, her mouth twitching, spasming, her lips parting. The last resistance crumbled, shattered. She moaned, quiet. “Oh Sarah…”
Sarah’s eyes flashed, victorious, when the moan escaped her mother’s lips. She began to pamper the bush more, both hands reaching deep, fingers wandering tenderly through the hair, stroking, caressing, but never touching the labia, never the clitoris. Always beside it, teasing, tangling her fingers in the thick hair, pulling slightly, worshipping. She leaned forward, kissing Diane’s belly again, slowly wandering lower, her mouth approaching the bush, her voice filthy, depraved, murmuring. “This hair,” she breathed. “Mom’s big sexy bush. Made for young girls to get lost in. I’m going to eat you through this hair, Mom. Make you scream.”
Diane’s mouth hung open, wide, her breathing heavy, enjoying, her daughter’s fingers teasing her used slit, pampering her bush. She looked at James, and he saw her breaking, surrendering. But he was no different. He used his mother’s lust-lost gaze as justification, his hand moving to his pants, pulling out his rock-hard cock, thick and throbbing. He began to stroke, slow, watching his mother and sister, his family. Diane saw it, her eyes locking on his hand, his cock, and another fervent moan escaped her deep.
Sarah’s kisses reached the bush, her lips pressing into the dense hair. She took some hairs into her mouth, pulled them taut, long, and sucked them down, moaning fervently. Her tongue played with the thick pubic hair, twirling, forming small loose knots around her tongue, tugging. Then she pressed her face deeper, her cheek lying flat against Diane’s slit, her nose buried in the hair, and breathed in deep, as deep as she could, filling her lungs with the musk. She lost her mind, babbling, filthy, depraved. “Mom’s hairy cunt,” she moaned. “Mom’s big bush. I want to drown in it. Fuck me, Mom, please, fuck my face with this hairy pussy of your’s.”
Diane was getting there, really getting there, her daughter’s filthy words pushing her higher. Her thighs twitched, spasming, her hips bucking slightly. She murmured, lost, her voice thick with lust. “You’ve lost your mind,” she breathed. But then she did it, rubbing her slit against Sarah’s cheek, her face, giving in, complying, grinding slowly.
Sarah let herself be caressed, enjoying the grinding, the hair rubbing against her cheeks. She licked through the bush, slow, deeper, her tongue parting the hair, searching. She found it, the clit, hard, swollen, and Diane twitched, her body convulsing, a shuddering moan ripping from her throat. Sarah pulled back, grinned, then licked again, intentional, direct, her tongue flicking the sensitive nub. “Found it,” she breathed, filthy. “Mommy’s clit. Big and hard for me.”
Sarah nibbled, tender, her teeth catching the clit, then circled it with her tongue, slow, satisfying. One hand stroked the inside of Diane’s thigh, soft, teasing, the other clawed into her bush, gripping, pulling. She murmured, challenging, her voice muffled against her mother’s flesh. “Thought you weren’t into women, Mom,” she breathed. “But look at you now. Look how you twitch.” Diane did twitch, writhed, her hips bucking with every lick, every flick of Sarah’s tongue.
Diane tried to still her, the confrontation uncomfortable, her values shattering. “Just… just lick me,” she gasped, her voice desperate. Sarah grinned, triumphant, and then she really began. She licked greedily, unrestrained, her tongue flat and wide, dragging through the wet slit, from bottom to top, again, again, her face buried deep, chin dripping, cheeks slick with spit and juice, messy, wet, sloppy. She moaned into the pussy, the sound vibrating, her tongue flicking inside, fucking her mother with her mouth, completely lost, completely depraved.
Sarah knew what she was doing, not her first time, not her tenth, skilled, practiced, and Diane felt it immediately. She’d never been licked like this, never so thoroughly, so expertly. Her body slid down the pillows, toward Sarah, twitching, bucking, her eyes wide, mouth gaping, staring at nothing, trying to process, to cope, failing. James rumbled on the chair, his hand working his cock furiously, jerking, watching the forbidden family play, his mother and sister, lost in each other.
Sarah sucked, greedy, swallowing every drop of juice, her mouth sealed tight, her tongue working deep. Then she pulled back to drag her tongue through the bush, spreading the wetness with her face flushing red, hot from the warmth, the smell and the arousal. She found her breath, again, her voice filthy, praising. “Mommy’s pussy,” she moaned. “So good. So wet. My lesbian mommy. Taking my tongue like a good girl.”
Diane found it uncomfortable, the word, the label, but she couldn’t fight it, couldn’t fight anything anymore. Sarah licked her so well she didn’t even know how close she was, her first orgasm with a woman building, her body tingling, electric, wild. She did it then, her legs rising, wrapping around Sarah’s head, her heels pressing, digging into the girl’s head, pulling her closer and pressing her face harder into her hairy slit to grind her desperate.
Sarah really started now, her free hand moving, two fingers tickling at Diane’s entrance, teasing, then plunging deep, fast, fucking her. Her thumb moved lower, stroking, circling the rim of Diane’s little unused asshole, pressing lightly, regularly. Diane squeaked, high, desperate, her wetness pooling, collecting between her legs.
Diane pressed harder, swallowing half of Sarah’s face in her wet cave. Sarah was bright red, straining, airless, but she didn’t stop, fucking her mother harder with her mouth, her fingers, relentless. Diane thrashed, her upper body throwing back and forth, sitting up, crashing back down onto the bed, her orgasm building, close, so close. She moaned, miserably, desperately horny, Sarah’s name ripping from her throat again, again. “Sarah… Ohh… my Sarah…”
James sat hypnotized like a hungry dog shown treats, his hand flying, fast, vehement, jerking his cock raw. In Diane’s pussy, air had collected, pressure building, and she queefed, again, again, the sound wet and obscene, right into Sarah’s face. Her juice sprayed then, mixing with Sarah’s spit, splattering the girl’s cheeks, her chin. Sarah dug like a madwoman, her tongue wild, fucking, licking, lost completely in her mother’s cunt.
Then it hit. Diane’s orgasm crashed through her, her upper body shooting up, convulsing, her back arching. She moaned like a wild animal, words tumbling out, filthy, broken. “Give it to me, you lesbian slut! Give it to your mother!” She curved, her hands reaching down, beside her feet, grabbing Sarah’s head, pressing her deeper, violent fuck movements, grinding her face into her hairy pussy. Her toes curled, her legs shaking, and her face—her face distorted into something absurdly obscene, mouth gaping, eyes rolled back, tongue out, spit dripping, completely lost, completely depraved.
Then the final squeak, the strong twitch, Diane’s limbs spreading taut, rigid, before she let go, falling back onto the bed, her body open, experiencing the next waves of her orgasm spread out, shuddering. Sarah gasped, greedy for air, she couldn’t have lasted much longer, buried in that hairy hole. But it wasn’t enough. She wasn’t done. Like a madwoman, she plunged three fingers into her mother, fucking her hard, fast. It squelched, smacked, wet, so wet, Diane’s pussy gushing around her daughter’s hand.
Diane couldn’t breathe, her body jumping, out of control, the orgasm too extreme, too much. Panic mixed with pleasure, overwhelming. She begged, pathetic, desperate. “Stop,” she gasped. “Sarah, please, stop!” But Sarah didn’t hear, didn’t listen. She fucked her harder, faster, harder, faster, her eyes almost black, focused completely on Diane’s hairy pussy.
Then, completely unexpected, Sarah pulled her fingers out with a loud, wet squelch. In that same moment, Diane felt something release, another extreme wave hitting her, her body convulsing. She moaned, completely destroyed, babbling, filthy, almost incomprehensible. “Fuck… oh fuck… Sarah… my dirty girl…” A massive gush erupted from her pussy, spraying, soaking the bed in a huge wet spot, arcing far enough to completely cover Sarah’s brown blouse, the wet patches spreading wild and dark across the fabric.
Sarah held her body directly in the stream, showering in her mother’s juices, her face turned up, mouth open, moaning fervently, greedy. As the gush subsided, she pressed her upper body down, rubbing her soaked blouse against Diane’s wet hole, the small plastic buttons sliding over the hypersensitive clit, making Diane twitch, still trapped in orgasm, unable to come down. Sarah moaned, filthy, lost. “Soak me, Mom,” she breathed. “Completely. I want to be covered in you. Your dirty girl. Your lesbian slut Mommy.”
James couldn’t believe his eyes. The show his mother and sister put on—nothing existed hotter, not in any porn, not anywhere. He had to let go of his cock, gripping the armrests instead, knuckles white, holding himself back from shooting in a high arc. He moaned, his voice breaking, his sister’s name ripping from his throat. “OH… God… Sarah…”
Sarah still wasn’t done. She grabbed one of Diane’s heavy, trembling legs, lifting it and draping it over her small, bony shoulder. Then she mounted her mother, her pants still on, the black fabric tight against her, scissoring and spreading Diane wide. She pressed her clothed slit against Diane’s wet, hairy pussy. While rubbing and grinding, her voice raised. “Your turn,” she moaned, desperate, demanding. “Satisfy me, Mom. Make your lesbian daughter cum.”
Diane had never been with a woman, didn’t know what to do. Her body was still dazed, twitching, clear thoughts impossible. But it was obvious she wouldn’t need to do much to make her daughter cum. The girl was absolutely worked up, drooling with horniness, completely spaced out—she hadn’t even had time to take off her pants! So Diane went with it, grinding her old pussy against the girl’s crotch, rubbing, moving with her.
That movement, her mother joining, made Sarah damn happy—and hornier. She couldn’t stop to undress, couldn’t resist, immediately riding, grinding, and now they scissored together, moving as one. Even this light rubbing through fabric made Sarah babble, filthy praise spilling out. “Yes, Mom, yes, fuck, your hairy pussy, so good,” she moaned, her hips moving faster, rubbing her clothed slit harder against Diane.
Sarah moved her little pussy like a dancer, fluid, hips rolling. She gave herself over completely, wild, grinding, lost in the friction. “Tell me,” she panted. “Tell me how hot I look, Mom.” Diane wasn’t a lesbian, never had been, but the words tumbled out now, lust-driven, unfiltered. “So hot,” she gasped, her voice filthy. “Your tight little body, so sweet. And that blouse, soaked with Mommy’s juice, so fucking hot, baby. My dirty girl.”
Sarah’s body vibrated, shaking with excitement. She looked down, her gaze traveling from her mother’s dense bush rubbing against her pants, up the sensual maternal body open in the unbuttoned cardigan, to Diane’s face, consumed by lust. Sarah opened her mouth, a deep, long moan escaping, then bit down gently into the thigh, so her mother’s leg on her shoulder, muffling the louder noises. Barely understandable, mouth full, panting, she asked the question. “Do you… god damn… ohhh… love me, Mom?”
Diane’s body trembled at the question. For her, it had never been a question—she loved her daughter, always wanted the best, thought she was giving it, even if she was harder on her than James. Hearing her so pathetic, so desperate for confirmation, left a bitter taste, mixing with her arousal into a confused, heady blend. Diane moaned to her horny, grinding daughter, the words spilling out. “I love you,” she gasped. “My hot lesbian lover. My little girl…” She spread her arms, begging, pleading. “Kiss me. Please. Kiss your Mother… Ouhh… Kiss… yesss…. kiss me.”
Sarah’s lust-fogged eyes lit up. On her face, honest joy, relief, but still that pure, wild horniness. She whimpered, relishing her mother’s words and nodded fast, hectic, feeling her body boiling over, orgasm close. Diane strained her trembling torso up, awkward, one leg on Sarah’s shoulder. Sarah leaned in and Diane’s leg falling wide, spread open. Then they grabbed each other desperate, mouths crashing together, an unbridled feast, no ordinary kiss but a heated exchange of spit and tongue, messy, filthy, perfect.
Both women ground their pussies together, wild, frantic. Sarah moved so fast now her hips looked like they were vibrating, blurring. Lost in the kiss with her mother, but her breaths shorter, sharper. She gasped, pulled back, realized it was unstoppable. Her eyes snapped open, spasming, and she breathed the words, filthy, desperate, right in her mother’s face. “Make me cum, Mom,” she panted. “Make your dirty girl cum… Ouhh… fuck… fuck…”
Then their mouths crashed together again and Diane held her, gripping tight, all her strength. Sarah’s lower body exploded, orgasm ripping through her. She nearly jumped off, bucking, but crashed back down on her mother’s hairy pussy. She moaned loud, high, into the kiss, her eyes rolled back completely, her back arching inward, convulsing, jerking, spasming so hard it almost hurt Diane to hold her. Diane moaned into the kiss, filthy, barely understandable. “Ouhh… Sa-… Sarah… ,” she gasped. “I soaked your blouse. Now soak your pants, baby. Soak them for Mommy.”
Sarah didn’t need to be asked. Her pussy gushed, squirting hard into her pants, the black fabric darkening instantly, wetness spreading, soaking through, distorting the material up to her thighs. The juice pooled, hot, running down her legs, staining the fabric dark, visible, obscene. She moaned, twitching, filthy words spilling out. “Soaking for you, Mom,” she gasped. “Like a little pig. Like a dirty slut. GOD! All for Mommy… Ouhh… fuck…”
The women kissed on, but the twitching lessened, the kisses softer, slower. Both breathing hard as the orgasm faded. Sarah lay back gently onto her mother’s naked torso, cuddling in, everything wet, soaked, but feeling so familiar, so warm, so intimate. She looked up, and she and Diane shared small kisses, tender, in the cuddling embrace. Then Diane looked over at James and smiled at him.
Diane’s arms enclosed Sarah gently, her hands moving slowly over the girl’s upper body, teasing down the button placket of her soaked blouse, circling around Sarah’s small clothed tits, all while holding James’s gaze. Her voice came filthy but inviting. “Don’t you want to show your sister too,” she breathed, “how much you love her?” James sat there, completely dazed, drunk on lust, his cock throbbing, his whole body cramping, fighting not to shoot from just her words, a wrong breath, the sight of them together.
Sarah’s voice softened, honey-sweet, loving, a tone James had never heard from her before. She smiled, genuine, warm, her eyes finding his. “You can cum on me,” she cooed. “Exceptionally. You can shoot your load on me if you want, brother.” She tilted her head back up, giving Diane a tender kiss, soft, intimate. James couldn’t speak, his mouth hanging open, and he crawled onto the bed, dazed, desperate, drawn to them like a magnet.
Diane cooed, satisfied, her voice warm. “Come here, baby. Finish it.” He was already there, knees planting on either side of their hips, looking down at them, his mother and sister, both smiling up at him. Sarah’s blouse was ruined, soaked completely, the brown fabric turned nearly black with wetness, patches of white and translucent where Diane’s juices had dried and mixed with fresh salvia from their wild kissing. The material was clinging to her small tits, nipples hard and visible through the wet cotton, smelling of sex and pussy. Diane reached up, her hands finding Sarah’s tits, pressing them together provocatively, presenting them to her son.
“Cum on me,” Sarah breathed, her finger tracing the button placket, teasing. “So every time I wear this blouse, I’ll think how much you and Mom love me.” James looked down into her face, really looked. Her eyes were bright, clear blue, her cheeks flushed pink, her lips swollen from kissing, the gold nose ring catching light, hair matted to her forehead with sweat. She was beautiful, the kind of girl he’d date, pursue, fantasize about. Then he looked at his mother, and watched as they shared another soft kiss, tender, their tongues barely touching. He grabbed his cock and jerked furiously, hard, desperate, his eyes darting between them.
“So fucking hot,” he moaned, “both of you, so fucking hot.” He didn’t last ten seconds. His body locked up, cramped, and he groaned, “Cumming!” The women barely had time to prepare before it shot out. James aimed at Sarah’s upper body, his second load in under an hour landing with a wet slap between her tits. The white cum hit the soaked brown fabric, instantly mixing with the wetness already there, creating pale streaks on the dark material, thick ropes pooling in the valley of her breasts, sliding down toward her belly along the tiny buttons. Sarah gasped, surprised, a soft “Oh!” escaping her lips. Diane licked her lips, lustful, her eyes dark. “Good boy,” she purred. “My good boy.”
James had never felt so empty, so drained. He collapsed to the side, curling into his mother, his body spent. All three lay there, completely soaked, covered in cum and juice and sweat, panting hard. Diane looked down at her children, satisfied, content, her arms around both. “I love you both,” she whispered, her voice soft, serious. “But Dad never finds out. Never.” Both nodded, murmuring agreement. Diane smiled, leaned down, gave James a soft kiss on the lips, tender, loving. Then she turned to Sarah and kissed her too.
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Hey there! I hope you enjoyed it! Feel free to leave a comment below about what want to happen to the family at christmas! You can have a impact on the next part. Every Friday a new Story on taboochapters.online ^^
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