Shepherd's Pie Ch. 06: Daddy's Girl

"Too much hand," I said, refusing to cut her any slack. "That's cheating."

She sprang up and tossed her hair with a huff, voicing her visible frustration.

"I'm sorry. I was just working my way up. It's not as easy as you think."

Ever the teacher, Mom spoke up, offering sage advice. "You're not getting it wet enough," she said, clearing her throat. "Here, watch this..."

Cynthia frowned, watching as Mom took charge, diving head first in my lap.

Swooping in, Mom went on the attack, with Cynthia wide eyed, holding her breath, as Mom selflessly instructed her how to please me, poising her gaping mouth inches above my cock, lips hovering dangerously close to the bulbous head, as she glanced up and briefly instructed me with a simple statement.

"Hold my hair."

In the waiting moments, before enjoying the sublime pleasure of penetrating her bottomless throat, after heeding Mom's instructions, she widely opened her mouth, warm breath heating my loins. The air from her mouth led me to think of her hot pussy steaming as well, seething with taboo excitement, burning to suck my cock, wantonly, in front of our landlord.

Sitting there, somewhat distracted by the video, I couldn't help marveling at the broad expanse of Cynthia's asscheeks filling up the screen, bouncing and jiggling in ripped pantyhose, slamming on Byron's cock.

Suddenly, Mom stole my attention, noisily spitting, hawking up phlegm, stunning me with her freakish talent for salivating in heavy volume. Reminding me who was the biggest slut, I watched how she dribbled, spewing over her bottom lip, threads wiggling, foaming with tiny bubbles, drooling all over my meaty cock.

With all the hunger of true carnivore, apparently wanting sausage for breakfast, Mom gulped my dick down without a flinch. By then, she'd been plunging my dick down her throat for weeks, not that I was jaded. Still, it was different, with Cynthia beside me, watching it all first hand.

Despite what happened with her uncle, or anything she'd seen at the party, I imagined Cynthia must have been shocked, as Mom willingly bent over to suck my cock, openly committing an act of incest, right in her own living room.

As Mom began bobbing and slurping away, I frowned as Cynthia leapt off the couch, head down, rushing toward the kitchen.

Reluctantly opting to make her stop, I tapped Mom lightly on the shoulder.

With a wrinkled brow, she sat up, noticing Cynthia's was gone.

"Where'd she go?"

"Think she went to the kitchen," I said, pointing to my left. "She looked pretty freaked out."

For a moment, as Mom promptly chased after Cynthia, the boy in me needed to get up and join them as well. Yet, Cynthia's video offered a second compelling option, as I sat there debating whether to stay put or follow, torn between needing to be at Mom's side, or being mature enough to sit there and let them talk, along with the bonus of watching Cynthia get tag teamed by Dante and Byron, stuffing her pussy and her ass, taking huge black cocks and brutally stretching her holes wide open.

Opting for the real thing, I hopped up, dropped my shorts, and paced toward the kitchen, semi-erect, penis flopping, slapping between my legs.

"Talk to me," I overheard. "What's going through your mind?" Mom whispered.

As I entered the kitchen, the two of them stood face to face near the sink. Cynthia stared at the floor. Mom stood at an angle, showing only the side of her face.

"It might sound weird," Cynthia muttered, shaking her head. "As soon as you started, I couldn't stop thinking about Miles. Not like right now," she explained. "But it scares me to think what could happen when he's older, you know? I mean, I'm such an exhibitionist. I can't help it. I don't know what would happen if Miles ever looked at me the way Chris looks at you."

Watching from a distance, I listened as Mom responded with empathy.

"It's not weird." She reached up, rubbing Cynthia's arm. "When Chris was young, there were so many times when I caught him staring at my legs. From the moment I got home, he was always watching me, always making excuses to come in my room while I was changing, dropping things on purpose, anything to peek up my skirt. Still, the whole time, even when I knew what he's doing, even when I started having all kinds of twisted fantasies about him every night, I still couldn't bring myself to act on it."

"I buried my feelings for years," she continued, "writing them all in my journal, wearing more pantyhose, teasing him on purpose, waiting till he turned 18." Turning her head, Mom gazed at me over her right shoulder, smiling with her eyes. "But look at him now," she whispered fondly. "My little boy's all grown up now, isn't he?"

Cynthia's head slowly rose up, eyelids opened half wide. Speechless, I stood there, unable to blink, lost in a sea of blue eyes. Staring back, probing to read her thoughts, my ego quickly took over, deeply emboldened by her unsubtle downward glances and her inability to look away from the growth of my lengthening hard-on, craning upward, filling with blood, surging as hot as my temperature, till finally Cynthia's answer came, voice sultry, eyes level with mine.

"Does he still like to watch?"

Turning back, Mom fully expressed the urgency of her lustful thoughts, with only a slight nod and devilish grin. "Yes. Yes, he does," she said, wetting her lips. Turning forward, she stepped in, leaning for a kiss, mouth pressing firmly over Cynthia's lips.

Time faded watching the two of them mash their lips together, tongues darting in and out. Quickly, when kissing wasn't enough, they reached up and feverishly groped each other over their tops.

Stripping first, shucking her tank top, Cynthia's tits flopped out. Honey in hand, Mom helped Cynthia peel down her shorts, before leading her back to the table.

Tracking her walk, I studied the muscles rippling in Mom's slender calves, with Cynthia face forward, hard nipples out, sitting up straight on the table. Silently poised between Cynthia's legs, Mom slowly raised her right arm. The back of her shirt slowly rose up, baring her smooth naked thighs.

Pouring the honey, Mom leisurely dribbled it over the bumps circling Cynthia's throbbing left nipple, where Mom eagerly bent down, lips clamping over Cynthia's pink areola, taking it all in her mouth.

Physically, Cynthia showed her enjoyment, instantly arching her back. The sight of it tempted me to leap over and shove Mom out of the way, logically staying put, not easy seeing the upward thrust of her chest, tits shooting straight up, nipples peaking from the mounds of her soft, pillow-shaped, 38FFs, slathered in honey, shining like liquid gold.

The image was so enticing it wasn't surprising to see Mom's similar reaction, seeming to come unglued. With Cynthia's left breast firmly in hand, her hazel eyes narrowed half slit. I already knew from first-hand experience how Mom savored having large objects stuffed in her mouth, as I stood back, smiling, noting her commitment, lips stretching like pink rubber bands, clearly ignoring her slight disadvantage, Cynthia's tits dwarfing her head.

Sucking like a newborn, Mom switched from one nipple to another, honey hardening as it cooled. Forced to work twice as hard, Mom simply sped up the swirling and flicking motion of her tongue, grazing both nipples with her teeth, slobbering spit all over, with Cynthia begging for more.

"Oh, good God! Yeah, suck those tits. Suck 'em nice and hard!"

Thinking two mouths were better than one, I made my way over, ready and eager to help, as Mom grabbed the honey, pouring half a cup in her mouth.

Cynthia sat up, wagging her tongue, knowing what Mom had in mind. Pausing mid-step, I watched in amazement, as she and Mom wildly sucked face, moaning in union, sharing the honey, passing it back and forth, with excess syrup dribbling down, forming a shiny glaze, then each of them took turns cleaning their chins, one tongue mopping the other.

Having seen enough, I stepped forward, both hands clutching Mom's waist. While she and Cynthia lingered over their long, steamy, honey-glazed kiss, I slowly entered Mom from behind, easing my dick inside.

Hot, mushy, yet tight as a glove, the fear of Mom getting more pleasure from her heated lip lock faded as I filled her warm pussy, walls spreading like melted butter, filling me with reassurance.

Unable to see Mom's face, my eyes rose toward Cynthia's, which anxiously shifted from me to Mom, while gnawing her bottom lip.

Instead of rushing like a conjugal visit, desperate to make it count, by taking our time, we'd purposely chosen to let Cynthia in, letting her absorb our passion, hoping to fill her with the faith of sharing the same passion with her son one day.

"Is this what you thought about?" I asked gazing at her.

Turning her head, eyes blinking, she took in a long, deep breath. Apparently, she wasn't expecting such a bold question, at least, not from me.

"Oh, um...you heard all that?"

With Mom between us, leaning forward, nuzzling Cynthia's neck, I nodded back, over Mom's heavy panting, slicing my dick in and out.

"Like Megan says, you shouldn't deny your true nature," I replied, winding my hips. "Mom and I did that for years. All it did was fuel our addictions. But thanks to her, we now have an outlet. And we've never been closer." Mom quivered as I hit bottom, balls flush to her snatch. "Don't you want that for you and your son one day?"

Dimming her eyes, I gave Cynthia a moment to think before she answered, turning my focus back to Mom.

By sharing our secret with someone else, we forged a much stronger bond, deepening our trust, at last finding the elusive will to release any lingering shame.

Gripping Mom's waist, spurred by the jolting suction of her spongy twat, I leveled her with a series of short, driving thrusts, hips churning, sweat beading, pelvis smacking against her butt.

Doubling the speed of my thrusts, I listened as Mom encouraged me with raw, filthy, incestuous language, gasping between each phrase.

"Hmmphh huhh oh oh yeah...oh yeah, right there. Yeah, that's it...God, you're so fucking hard this morning...yes, Chris fuck me...fuck me baby...you know how I like it...come on, give it to me...yeah, that's it...fuck Mommy how she likes it...nice and hard...shove it all in there...mmm, God yes, fuck me sweetie...you know Mommy loves your big cock so much...Mommy loves to get bent over just like this...come on, baby... that's it...fuck my pussy...fuck Mommy's pussy good...make Mommy cum on your big fat monster cock!"

Triggered by her voice, a switch went off, shifting me into beast mode.

Groaning in submission, losing all power of speech, Mom threw her arms around Cynthia, holding on for dear life. Breaking her spirit, I threw my hips wildly, making her take it like a slut. Shaking all over, her body surrendered, shock waves hitting full force, cock buried, rock hard inside her, rabidly pulsing with life.

Hugging Mom's shoulders, Cynthia shuddered, listening behind closed eyes, lost somewhere else, drinking it in, seeming to cum by osmosis.

Catching her breath, Mom pulled away. Cynthia eyed me again.

"Wow," she said, shaking her head. "You two are something else. I've never been so jealous."

"So your answer is yes?" I asked bluntly, staring at her big blue eyes.

Nodding with conviction, she answered with no hesitation.

"Oh, absolutely," said Cynthia. "I mean, let's face it. I'm just as big a slut as your mom. We both share the same taste for forbidden fruit. So it's probably inevitable. But 18 years is a long time, assuming I can wait that long...what do I do in the meantime?"

Feeling warm, I pulled off my shirt, dropping it down to the floor.

"Honestly, if you're serious about it, quit working for Dante. That's number one. I know you like him. I know he's got tons of swag. But there's a dark side to him. I can see it. I'm sure you can too."

Cynthia smirked, arms folding across her chest. "And walk away from all that money...you think it's that easy?"

I glanced at Mom, moving toward the sink, filling a glass of water.

"There's other ways to make money," I said, turning back.

"Oh, like what?" Cynthia said, tilting her head.

Sipping her water, Mom eyed me skeptically, leaning against the sink.

Unfazed, I then proceeded to explain my new vision.

"Last night, during the party," I began. "I got this idea for a magazine called 'Eye Candy.' Then, when I was shooting the video, I realized how cool it would be to make my own movies. All I need is the models."

"Models," Cynthia frowned. "Meaning who, us?"

"Exactly," I said, nodding and smiling. "There's a huge market for fetish porn. Trust me, I know. I'd even be willing to split the profits evenly. Plus, it's a lot safer than prostitution," I added.

Mom and Cynthia turned to each other, quietly thinking it over.

Finally, Cynthia stepped off the table, pulling a chair up beside me.

"That actually sounds pretty interesting," she said, offering me a seat. "But I'll only consider it if Lauren agrees," she said, standing in front of me. "And there's one more condition," she added, curling her fingers around my cock. "As of this moment, I forbid you think of me as your landlord," she whispered, squeezing the shaft. "From now on, it's Aunt Cindy." Her other hand came up and rested on my shoulder. "Now, sit down," she boldly insisted. "Aunt Cindy wants to ride your cock."

Doing as told, I quickly sat down, as Cynthia turned facing Mom, who promptly stepped over, dropped to the floor and knelt down between our legs.

Cynthia squatted, sheathing my hard-on deep in her squishy twat. Carefully observing, Mom leaned forward, adding a playful remark.

"Don't mind me," she said, heating my scrotum with her mouth, "just thought I should make myself useful."

From Mom's position, crouched down, leaning so close, the juices I felt seeping down my shaft must have been easy to see... with every inch deeply sinking through Cynthia's dripping wet cunt.

With a whooping sound, Cynthia gasped, head swinging back on insertion. The weight of her body pressed down against me, leaning all the way back, tickled by soft hair brushing my neck, breathing her strong citrus scent.

Settling down, in no rush at all, Cynthia winded on top of me, patiently swiveling, bathing me in juices, like her pussy was some sort of hybrid sexual kitchen appliance, a dishwasher for my cock.

Like a hand in glove, my dick felt incredibly snug in its cozy new lodgings, with Cynthia doing all the work, letting me savor the warmth, friction, and slickness of her tight, oily walls.

Opening her mouth, Cynthia leaned in, twisting her head for a kiss. Coated with honey, she wormed her sweet tongue inside my mouth, urgently seized between my lips.

Meanwhile, Mom kept herself busy, slurping and sucking my balls.

With her face inches from Cynthia's cunt, I briefly considered warning Mom to keep her distance, only to realize this would only put me in as much hot water as Cynthia's epic squirts.

Even with Cynthia writhing against my crotch, the distraction of Mom's agile tongue dragging and fluttering over my balls brought up a question leading me to break off our kiss, while keeping a firm grip over Cynthia's huge, putty soft tits.

"Tell me something, Aunt Cindy," I hotly whispered. "Do you really think you're as a big a slut as my mom?"

Returning a soft moan, Cynthia whispered, "I know I am."

"What makes you so sure?" I asked, hips undulating, matching her rhythm.

"It started when you moved in," she explained. "Lately, I've had this recurring dream where Miles goes off to college. Every weekend he comes home with all of his dirty clothes. I'm down in the basement getting ready to work out. I see him coming downstairs. He tosses his laundry down on the floor, as if he expects me to wash them. I tell him he's old enough to do it himself. Then I go back to stretching out. He picks up the bag and dumps his clothes in the washer all at once. I get up and help him sort the colors as he stands there staring at my tits. I lean over, smelling the body odor on his shirt. I wiggle my fingers and tell him to hand it over. Slowly, he takes it off. I tell him we might as well wash his jeans too. He takes them off. I can't help seeing his gigantic hard-on, way bigger than his dad. He catches me staring, pulls down his briefs, then stands there and points it at me between his hand."

Quietly listening, similar to Mom, the perversion of Cynthia's own words heightened her excitement, panting and quivering as she bucked harder, vigorously rocking back and forth.

"He starts jerking off right in front of me," she continued. "Before I can stop him, he grabs my tits, groping them all over. He spins me around, rips down my shorts, and bends me over the washer. Next thing I know, he's pounding the shit out of me from behind. I don't want to like it but it feels so good I can't help squirting on his cock. Finally, he pulls out and pushes me down. Then he shoots this enormous load down my throat."

"Hmm," I said, probing further, fucking her mind as well. "Is that what you want? You want Miles to grow up and treat you like a whore? Do you really believe you're such a slut that you'd even fuck your own son?"

"Hmphh huhhh yesss uhh uhh ohh gawwd you're gonna make me cum!"

"No!" I barked vehemently. "Not until you say it. Not until you scream it out loud."

Her inner walls seized around my cock, clamping, as Mom pitched in.

"Ohh fffuuccckk!" Cynthia shouted, throwing back her head. "Ohh yeah that's it! Suck it! Suck my clit! Yeah right there! Hunphh huhh ohh oh gawd Lauren just like that! Fuck yeah SUCK it! God you suck it SO good! Ohhh gawwwd! Ohh gawd, Chris, please let me CUM! Please I can't take it! Not with your MOTHER sucking my CLIT! Hmmmggaawwwd I'm gonna EXPLODE! Let me explode on your COCK! I'll do anything as long as you share your HUGE cock!"

"Will you work for me?"

"YES! Yes! Whatever you want!"

"Will you let Miles fuck Mommy too?"

"Hmmyessss all the time!"

"You've always thought about incest, haven't you? That's why you want me to call you Aunt Cindy. That's why you started having those dreams when we moved in. You pictured me upstairs fucking my mother and you liked it, didn't you?"

Hitting a nerve, I cringed at the piercing decibel of her response, screaming out frighteningly loud.

"OHH! FUCCKK! YESSSSSS!!" Cynthia combusted with an ear-splitting scream, so alarming I worried the neighbors would dial 911.

Forcing me out, her hips lurched, jolting like my dick slipped and jabbed her up the ass. Head back, legs spread, fingers buzzing over her clit, she wailed through a series of frantic convulsions, each of which culminated in a sudden burst of hot, gushing, transparent fluid.

Rearing back, Mom gasped, snapping her head back on reflex.

Hazel eyes gaped with terror, Mom hotly slid out her tongue, as a fountain of girl-cum rained down splashing her face, lips parting with subtle excitement as well.

With each subsequent blast, Mom went from shrieking to giggling to mewing, fully aroused, face riddled by multiple spurts.

Trickling down my shaft, droplets zigzagged and dripped off my balls, cock drenched on all sides.

Standing up on shaky legs, Cynthia wearily stumbled toward the table.

"Holy shit," she said, breathing hard, shaking off a head rush. "That was really intense."

From the next room, woken by the noise, I overheard Miles crying.

"Great," Cynthia sighed. "I woke the baby."

"It's fine," Mom said, hopping up, face shining with filmy residue. "He probably needs to be changed. I'll get it," she said, waving her hand. "Stay here and finish getting the food ready. Be right back."

As Mom hustled off, her unsettling eagerness to run off and change a diaper made me wonder if all of a sudden she'd developed a mild case of baby fever.