Blitzed

"Not just yet. I want to look at you too, then we can taste each other together."

I hurried to move into a sixty nine, feeling her hot breath as she studied my fanny. Hesitantly she parted the lips and eased me down onto her mouth as I put out my tongue and moved my face closer, until we were joined as one, mouth to fanny, fanny to mouth. When my tongue found her clit she copied my actions precisely, licking where I licked, probing where I probed, nibbling where I nibbled, then suddenly she was no longer aping me. Instead she was using her tongue and lips to guide me, letting me know where and how she wanted me to pleasure her. I felt her fingers enter me, tentatively at first, then more forcefully as I thrust my hips in encouragement, and pushed my fingers into her.

We were both too excited to hold back, and it seemed only moments before I was lapping Mum's cum as my own secretions poured into her open mouth.

"Oh god, Thelma," she panted, clawing wildly at my tits. "That was the most exciting thing I ever did, but I can't help thinking a dick would have made it even better."

I looked at her, perplexed. In view of her reticence over other terms, 'cock' was the last word I would have expected to hear from her. 'Thing', maybe, or 'it' or perhaps even 'dick', but certainly not 'cock'. Still, there was no point fretting over something I would probably never know the answer to, so I went into the bathroom to clean up.

Putting on a dress to protect me from spitting fat, I fried some bacon for sandwiches whilst Mum cleaned herself up. We sat side by side on the couch as we ate, each engrossed in our own thoughts, then putting her plate aside Mum brushed the crumbs from her naked thighs and parted her legs.

"Again?" she whispered hopefully.

I looked at her still slightly puffy fanny and nodded eagerly as my own juices started to seep. "Again." I responded, unfastening my dress as I headed towards the stairs.

Perhaps it was relief at realising that what we had done earlier in no way diminished her taste for men, but she was a changed woman when we reached the bedroom. Oozing confidence she pushed me on to the bed and crouched over me, rubbing her slit almost violently against my mouth as her tongue assaulted my clit. She was so intense that it seemed no time at all before her secretions were pouring into my mouth, as she licked more cum from my pussy than Doris had ever made me produce. When we were both finally spent, she rolled on to her back and giggled.

"I wonder what Hamish would say if he knew what we just did?"

There was something about her tone that suggested it was more than idle curiosity, then it was my turn to giggle as I recalled how Hamish and Wilbur had egged Doris and I on.

I replied as honestly as I dared. "I doubt if it would bother him too much. In fact, he might even surprise you." Mum looked a question at me but I refused to take the bait, and after we had cleaned ourselves up for the second time, we dressed and went downstairs, where I changed the subject to what to cook for Angus and Hamish when they finished work.

Hamish decided to rearrange the showroom display, working after hours to avoid disrupting business, which necessitated I him arriving home so late and tired that for several days he touched neither Mum nor myself, except for one morning when Mum sucked his dick before work. After what seemed much longer than it really was, he was finally finished, and he came home at his usual time. Mum and I were sitting watching television, and leaning over the back of the couch he pushed his hands down the tops of our dresses and inside our bras.

"I've missed my girls," he muttered, fondling our breasts. I can't speak for Mum, but my nipples rose instantly, and my face dropped with disappointment when he withdrew his hands. "Don't go away" he whispered. "I'll just wash up, then I'll show you how much I missed you."

Mum must have decided to take the bull by the horns, because she immediately unbuttoned my dress and took off my bra, before undressing herself to the waist and leaning toward me. When Hamish returned she raised her mouth from my nipple and grinned at him. "I thought we may as well start without you."

He returned her grin and took her breasts in his hands. "Don't let me stop you. I'll just enjoy the view."

I slouched back, enjoying her enthusiastic attention to my tits, and I inched the hem of her dress up to uncover her panties.

"Aye, that's the way my bonnies," Hamish approved, removing her dress and briefs, and turning his attention to mine. "Dinna stop there." He coaxed me down onto the floor, parting my legs and eased Mum over me. "Use yer tongues." Murmuring encouragement as he watched us lick each other, he quickly undressed and knelt behind Mum, grasping her hips and raising her from my mouth to push his hard cock into her wet fanny. After several energetic thrusts, he withdrew completely and thrust again. She gave a startled gasp when his now well lubricated dick slid smoothly into her back passage, then she began to push back to meet him.

No longer able to reach her with my tongue, I stroked her clit and pushed two fingers inside her pussy, finger fucking her wetness as I watched my husband shag her arse.

Her gasps of "Oh, Oh, Oh," in time with his thrusts warned of her approaching climax, and I opened my mouth to catch her oozing fluids as she lapped my own cum from my dripping twat. Half a dozen strokes later Hamish grunted as his pulsating cock filled Mum's arse with thick goo.

When he pulled out she turned and smiled at him. "That was a nice surprise. Unexpected but nice. We must do it again some time."

He took her at her word, and the following evening he had me crouched over her with her fingers in my fanny and his dick in my bum as I feasted on her clit.

As we recovered from our exertions I had a whispered conversation with Hamish, then spoke to Mum. "Look, we've been thinking. You spend more time here than at your place, so it seems senseless to maintain two homes. Why don't you put your house up for rent and move in here with us?"

She nodded thoughtfully. "It might be for the best. It can be a bit lonely at night without your Dad. I miss him just being there. Although he didn't do it often, and sometimes it annoyed me when he did, I miss him shagging me awake in the mornings."

I looked at her in surprise. I couldn't recall her ever talking about what she did with Dad, so this was somewhat of a revelation. It was also an indication of how much she had progressed since I told her I has known from the start that she and Hamish were shagging.

She looked at him and laughed. "Don't get any ideas. Even if I do move in with you, your wake up shags belong strictly to your wife."

That weekend was spent moving Mum, with her lifetime of "treasures" and her essentials into our spare room, and on the Monday she listed her house with a rental agency.

Although this solved the problem of her loneliness, it presented another that none of us had forseen. With a teenage boy under the same roof, there were fewer opportunities for Hamish to shag her, although they certainly took full advantage of those that were presented, sometimes, but fortunately rarely, to the point where he had no energy left to satisfy me.

About a year after Dad passed, Mum, perhaps out of a need to associate or mix with people of her own generation, became a volunteer worker in a charity shop. Almost immediately, some of the spring in her step which she had lost when Dad died returned, and with the passage of time some of the years seemed to fall away. Her rediscovered zest for life transferred to her relationship at home, and for the next year or so things couldn't have been better.

Angus had not long celebrated his seventeenth birthday, when Mum came home looking rather despondant.

"I'm worried about George," she told me, referring to one of her volunteer co workers, a small dapper ex soldier some ten years her junior, who took care of the heavy lifting and sorting of donations. "His wife is somewhat younger than he is, but she is constantly unwell with what he calls 'women's problems' and is unable to 'accommodate' him physically." She touched her breasts. "Today he hinted that it would be nice to find out if these would fit into his hands."

"I see, did you let him?"

"Of course not. What concerns me most is that I actually considered it before I changed the subject."

"I can understand that," I told her. "It all comes down to what you want. And what you are prepared to put up with. If you like someone enough I see no harm in letting him take certain liberties. After all, that's the way it was with Chuck. You liked him enough to let him shag you."

She looked uncertain. "Yes I know, but I'm not sure I like George enough to go that far, although I'm pretty sure he wants to."

"It's not just about what he wants though is it?" I answered. "You have to make up your own mind. If you like him enough to let him feel your tits then why not? So long as he understands that's as far as you're prepared to go. You set the limits and make sure he doesn't cross the line. Unless you decide otherwise."

She shrugged. "I suppose I'll just have to wait and see."

It wasn't mentioned again for a few weeks, then she came home from her shift and seemed even more unsettled. I asked her what was wrong, although I thought I already knew.

"It's George again. His wife is worse. The doctor says she has a growth that started in her womb and spread. There's nothing they can do. He put on a brave face, and was flirting and flattering me all afternoon, then when we were closing the shop he hinted again about my breasts fitting his hands. I suppose I felt sorry for him, and I thought if I let him hold them for a moment outside my clothes he would shut up about it. After all, as you said, what harm could it do? He held them briefly and I thought that was the end of it. But then he touched me down there -- on the outside my clothes of course -- and I came this close to slapping him. I don't know why, but it was like Chuck all over again, and instead I told him if he really wanted to I would let him shag me."

I smiled. "How was it?"

She pulled a face. "It didn't. He said he wanted to feel my tits and vagina, but wouldn't go all the way because he didn't want to betray his wife. After all, it wasn't her fault he couldn't do her. He doesn't love her as much as he used to, but he has to stand by her. I knew if he felt my fanny I wouldn't want to stop, so I told him it was all or nothing."

She seemed ready to burst into tears, so I put my arms around her. "We all have our weaknesses," I soothed. "The body doesn't always listen to the brain. I think every woman knows what it's like to be out somewhere and see a total stranger, and all of a sudden her fanny is dripping. Most times he doesn't even notice her and nothing happens, but it still leaves you with the feeling that in other circumstances something would happen."

"I suppose you're right. Is that how it was with you and Wilbur?"

I shook my head. "No, that was totally different. That was sort of planned. The four of us were already best friends. Wilbur wanted to shag me, and Doris wanted Hamish to shag her, so without me knowing the three of them put their heads together and arranged for it to happen. Not that I was entirely reluctant."

"I see, so when did you see your stranger?"

"That was the first time we went to France. He wasn't exactly a stranger though. Do you remember Armand, the hotel assistant manager?"

Mum nodded and I went on. "Well the first time we went he was a waiter. A couple of days before we came home, Hamish was in bed with a hangover, so I walked down to the village to get some souvenirs. I bumped into Armand and he helped me with my shopping. He walked with me back to the hotel, and we took a short cut through the staff quarters. When he stopped outside his room, without thinking I went in with him and he started feeling my tits. I was still a bit mad at Hamish, so I didn't try to stop him, and when my nipples got hard my fanny got wet. I didn't even know I wanted him to shag me until he was inside me. When I returned to our room I was feeling a bit regretful, not because I let him shag me, but because I didn't think I should have enjoyed it as much as I did. Hamish was still passed out and the room smelled of sick, and I got angry again. I washed my fanny and decided to go to the beach to calm down before I lost my temper with him. I took a short cut through the staff quarters again, and as I was passing Armand's room I couldn't help myself. I just barged in and leaned forward over the bed, and it was even better than the first time."

For some minutes we remained silent, each lost in our own thoughts, then I took her hand.

"Remember when we all went to France together?" Before she could reply I laughed. "Of course you remember. That's when Hamish first shagged you. Anyway that one morning when I woke up feeling a bit off, Armand came to our room to see if I needed anything when you were all at breakfast. As soon as he came in my legs just sort of opened by themselves and it was just like I had never been away." I let her think about it for a couple of minutes before adding. "Like I said, sometimes we have to listen to our bodies."

"You're right, we do," she whispered, glancing at the clock and slipping a hand under my skirt. "The men won't be back for an hour, so is your body saying the same as mine?"

I looked at her in surprise, because she had never before taken the initiative with me, then I quickly undressed as she did likewise, and greedy mouths were on eager dripping fannies as we licked and stroked each other to a totally uninhibited mutual climax.

She was fairly quiet for the next few days, but on Thursday of the following week she was more than an hour late getting home. I had just put a cottage pie into the oven to brown the top when she finally turned up and went straight to the bathroom. When she came back downstairs she seemed pensive, so I asked if everything was alright.

"Fine" she nodded. "I was held up in the shop that's all"

"No trouble I hope? You weren't hurt were you?" I asked, immediately concerned that they may have been robbed.

She laughed briefly. "No, nothing like that. It was just a strange day. George had told me his wife had taken a turn for the worse, and was under heavy sedation as they waited for the end. After we put the takings in the safe, and were getting ready to close the shop he touched my breasts again. I suppose it must have been at the back of my mind all day, because I didn't try to stop him undoing my blouse and bra. His mouth and hands were very gentle on my breasts and nipples so I let him play with them for a while. When he put his hand up my skirt and stroked my vagina there was no turning back. I let him take my pants down and do me."

"That's wonderful!" I exclaimed. "I'm so pleased for you. How was it?"

"It was nice," she admitted. "For such a small man he was unexpectedly large. Not as big as Hamish, but still quite big, and it felt really good in my vagina. We both came pretty quickly."

"That's wonderful." I repeated. "Are you going to let him shag you again?"

Mum nodded. "I hope so, but I'm not sure."

"Oh? Why not?"

"He seemed a bit guilty about shagging me whilst his wife was still alive, so I suppose we'll have to leave it there, although I don't want to. It's no reflection on Hamish, but it's nice being shagged by someone closer to my own age for a change. But only for a change," she added quickly.

I sensed that our conversation was having an effect on her, just as it was on me, and I slipped my hand under her skirt, surprised to find that she had either neglected to put her panties back on after George fucked her, or she had taken them off in the bathroom when she came home. Whatever the case she was as wet as I had ever known her to be. She let me stroke her fanny for a minute or so, then pushed my hand away.

"No don't. Angus will be home soon and we don't want him catching us. Besides, I'd rather wait until Hamish is here."

Minutes later she gave me an 'I told you so' look when my son barged in, impatient to be fed before going to meet his friends.

The scene was repeated a couple of hours later when Hamish came home. Pulling a chair out he sat at the dining table and sniffed. "Something smells good, I'm starving."

I divided what was left of the cottage pie between us, and sat facing him as we ate. Mum seemed preoccupied, hardly touching her food until Hamish pushed his plate away with a satisfied burp, then she slid her chair back and half turned towards him. The tips of her ears turned pink as she slowly and deliberately inched her dress up to reveal the moist pink inner folds of her pussy. I could hear the need in her voice as she asked nervously "Is there anything else you want?"

Despite his surprise he didn't hesitate, leaning forward to undo her blouse and bra as his finger slipped into her fanny. I watched him feel her for a short time, then collected the dirty dishes and took them into the kitchen. When I returned she was sprawled across the table, her legs clamped around his hips and she was frenziedly pushing her fanny up to meet his plunging cock. My own earlier frustration boiled to the surface, and I quickly took off my pants and sat on the hard chair, fingering myself as I watched them shag until his cum flooded her pussy.

Hamish was perplexed by her uncharacteristic impatience, and he mentioned it to me later that night in bed. He was lying on his side, kissing my tits and stroking my slit, when he raised his head. "I wonder why she was in such a hurry to be shagged?" he mused. "It's not like her at all."

I thought of mentioning George, but decided against it. If mum wanted him to know, it was her place to tell him, not mine. Instead I laughed quietly. "You know how we are," I teased. "We never do the expected when we're in the mood." To illustrate my point I turned my back to him, and reaching back between my legs I grasped his cock, and after rubbing it on my fanny for lubrication I steered it into my bum.

Some six or seven weeks later Mum came home from the shop beaming, and saying that George had started shagging her again. He seemed to have a new lease of life since his wife passed on and had done her twice that day. It came as no surprise to me that she continued to 'work late' every Thursday, although it did surprise me that her appetite for Hamish was in no way diminished.

For the next fifteen months or so life was idyllic and Mum was the happiest she had been since we lost Dad. Then I had the shock of my life.

It was laundry day, and I had gone into my son's room to gather his discarded clothing and change his bedlinen. I picked up his pillow to change the pillowslip and found a well thumbed and dog eared glossy magazine with the German title "Ficke Meine Mutter." The cover depicted a middle aged woman sucking the huge cock of a man half her age. I turned the pages with growing horror at a succession of explicit photographs of the pair having sex in every conceivable position. The magazine dropped from my nerveless fingers, and fell open at the middle pages and my heart stopped. Carefully trimmed photos of Angus and my faces had been pasted over those of the actors, and my mind went numb as the title of the magazine became clear. "Fuck My Mother!"

There was an icy cold lump in the pit of my stomach as I replaced everything as I had found it and left the room on rubbery legs. I stumbled to my room, eyes squeezed shut against what I had seen. An image already burned into my brain, of a woman wearing my smiling face having her pussy crammed to bursting by the outsized cock of a youth with my son's grin.