My Mum and the Vicar's Wife Ch. 02

The following week Dad reverted to day shift, which means that I set the table and cut the roast or prepare what is needed with Mum, so everything is ready when he comes in the door.

Dad walks in the back door and sets his lunch pail down. He looks a bit tired, but greets us both; Mum gets her usual peck on the lips.

Nothing is different this Tuesday, than on any other day. The three of us chat about the news of the day, work, school or otherwise. Following supper, Mum prepares Dad's lunch and sets everything in the fridge for him, while he and I wash and dry the dishes.

Out of the blue, Mum says, "Timmy, George and Tara are visiting tonight. How about you find your darts and see if any of the boys are up for a match, down at the Thistle. Dad looks to me and then toward Mum.

"Sure, Mum," he says, looking a bit more weary. "I'm sure that Smitty will want a challenge." We finish tidying up, and Dad says to me, "Are you up for a pint and a game, son?"

Before his words are finished, Mum interjects, "Derek is staying back to greet the Johnsons." Dad looks inquisitive but says nothing. We share a glance, but soon he is away to get out his darts.

I am sat with Mum at the table chatting, when Dad walks in to the kitchen, takes his cap from the peg next to the door and dons it. He steps toward Mum and gives her a kiss on the cheek. He nods to me and says, "Enjoy your visit," straight faced, and turns to the door.

As Dad steps through the doorway, Mum says, "No need to be back before midnight."

Dad looks back, stopped in his tracks and says, "But, I have work... erm, yes, Mum."

Before he has the door closed behind him, Mum calls out to him, "I might have a present for you when you get in." He looks back to see her broad grin, and he tips his cap with a faint smile, as he shuts the door behind him.

A few minutes later, Mum says, "How about you help me make up my bed," and gets up without waiting for a reply.

I follow her to their bedroom and without notice, Mum drops her sweatpants and folds them over one of two dining chairs set near the bed. Her white thong strap is well hidden between her full, dimpled ass cheeks, and Mum raises her jumper over her head, revealing her bare back.

I wait by the door while she changes in front of me, turning around as she slips a long, cotton nightdress over her head. It gets hung up on Mum's humungous boobs. Her thong has the smallest triangle on the front panel, barely seen beneath the folds below her navel, and disappearing again between her flabby thighs.

Mum hauls the cotton past her tits and tucks the huge pair in place, letting the cloth fall past her rotund belly and down to the tops of her knees.

"Take a side, and lets get these sheets changed," she says, while removing one of the pillowcases. I take the blankets off and set them on one of the chairs, and we soon have new sheets and cases in place. Once the blankets were neatly set, Mum and I roll them, and the top sheet, all the way to the foot of the bed.

Mum tugs up the mattress corner, and pulls out a long strap with Velcro on it, from beneath the mattress. She nods to me, then reaches for another strap at the lower corner on her side.

I follow suit, until all four straps lie on top of the fitted sheets. Mum says, "The Johnsons will be here in five minutes. How about you get rid of those clothes and get in to bed for me." I think it a bit odd that we wouldn't greet them at the door, but know that Mum has her own way of getting things done.

I peel off my jeans and tee, and then step out of my Jockeys, naked as a jaybird. Mum sizes me up and says, "That is a nice dick, Derek," and rounds the bed to fondle it. Mum uses one hand to cradle my balls, weighing each tender pill. Her fingers tease the auburn curls of my sack, while her other hand wraps fingers and thumb around my veiny shaft. Its shape straightens and hardens with every heartbeat; Mum's smooth digits wander from base to tip.

Her eyes never leave her prize, and I decide that the gigantic breasts with their swollen nipples pressed into the cotton, are in need of attention. I mash them together, amazed at what must be forty pounds of milky flesh. My thumbs strum the knobby nipples, flicking up and down over the erect nubs through the cotton.

Mum points to the middle of the bed and I lay down where she indicates. She dutifully walks from corner to corner, placing each strap around a wrist or an ankle, until I am securely bound in place. I move my limbs to test their limits; no more than two or so inches of play for any arm or leg. My cock softens, our eyes meet; we smile together.

The doorbell rings at that moment, and Mum bends over the bed to look at me sincerely. "Let's understand something," she says, in a matter-of-fact tone, "The Johnsons know what they are here for tonight, and so just enjoy being the center of attention. Okay, Derek?"

"Yes, Mum," I reply, looking down at my flaccid cock lain prone along my belly, a tendril of precum extends from piss slit to the firm muscle of my stomach. She leaves the room to answer the door, and I feel ready for quite a night.

Voices speak softly from the front hall, and within a few minutes, the three of them walk into the bedroom, led by Mrs. Johnson.

Her eyes light up at the sight of my naked body on display, my cock having lost most of its blood supply. "Oh, VERY nice," she says, stepping to one side, "Look Georgie, the boy is already bigger than you and he hasn't started to grow yet."

Her husband enters next, and sees me straight away. I do not forget my manners, even in this odd setting. "Good evening vicar, and Mrs. Johnson," I offer, noticing the vicar unable to take his eyes from my flaccid dick. It was as though he were sizing up how big it might become. Mum appears behind them, as the vicar begins to speak.

"Nice to see you, my young boy. But for tonight, let's dispense with the formalities, shall we? You may call us George and Tara for the time being."

The mid-fortyish man surveys my naked, hairy, and manly body, while his hands remain in the pockets of his black, button-down cassock. The vicar's furrowed brow only serves to accentuate his widow's peak. His face is thin and gaunt, but for a well-trimmed goatee of black; only a few bristles of gray to be found. No doubt, from rumors, he is fondling himself at the sight of my youthful maleness.

Mrs. Johnson is wearing a simple, purple skirt, and lavender blouse without stockings, and a pair of pumps. Her lipstick is much more red and glossy than one might expect from a respected wife of clergy - likely only worn for occasions such as this.

Mom stands at the foot of the bed, a look of pride in her eyes. "Tara, would you like to take the lead here?" Tara shudders slightly at the debauchery that was to ensue, and begins unbuttoning her blouse.

"George, be a good boy and have a seat," Mum says firmly. George steps to the two chairs, one with Mum's sweats hung over it, and is sat in full view of the bed.

Beneath the lavender blouse, Tara has a similar shaded lace bra, which she quickly sheds, unclasping the catch between the small cups. Around Tara's neck is a simple gold chain, with a bauble on it. "Apparently, this isn't the first time you've seen these," she says, dropping the bra free of her barely mounded breasts. I blush at having been tattled on for my voyeuristic actions, yet my cock begins to respond to her nakedness.

Mom steps behind Tara and pulls at the zipper on the woman's left hip, and slides Tara's skirt to the floor. I look to the vicar, hands still in his pockets, but moving all around his junk, clearly his excitement is building.

Tara wears a cute, lacy pair of knickers, red to match her lipstick. Mom slides her hands into the elastic at each of Tara's hips, and shucks the filmy garment to the floor. When Tara steps from them, Mum reaches down, lifts the skimpy panties up, and lays them across my nose and mouth. Tara's heady scent is enough to trigger even more motion in my yet untouched cock.

I gaze at Tara's jet black, untrimmed curls that shroud the lips of her vulva. Mum says, into her ear, "You are welcome to explore a bit," and Tara smiles at me, approaching the bedside.

Her hands travel along my left leg, her diminutive fingers tickling my leg hair. Tara eyes my cock as it reacts to her touch, ascending a few degrees with every heartbeat. Tara's child-like hand makes my girth look even greater than its hefty size. Her black nipples hang from the white inverted pyramids of Tara's barely budding breasts, while the demure woman plays with my burgeoning young cock.

While Tara teases my groin, each hand skims along the inside of a thigh, meeting at my ball sack. Mum stands next to the bed, enjoying her friend's delight in cuddling up to Mum's grown son. George watches intently while his wife takes hold of my erection. My cock is at full staff as her hands begin to jack me off. Tara uses a thumb to wipe off a pool of precum from my piss hole and smears it across the tip of her tongue, tasting its salty flavor.

Mum beckons the vicar, "George, stand up and move to the bed," and George obeys without question.

Mum looks at me and says, "Derek, do you notice anything unusual about little Georgie here?" I look him up and down but I don't see anything of note.

"No, Mum. What is it?" Meanwhile Tara has added her mouth to her handwork, and my cock is fully engorged. I contain myself to the slightest moan as this man's wife openly fellates me in his presence.

"Wouldn't you expect to see a tent in the vicar's cassock? He has been playing with himself since he got in the room, and his wife has just put your cock in her mouth."

I guess that I had expected that George was holding onto his cock so as not to allow it to bulge against the cloth. Mum stands behind the now crimson priest, and whispers in the man's ear, "Show the boy."

George undoes the many buttons that fasten the cloak from chest to mid-thigh. First, his scrawny chest and sparse, greying chest hair comes into view, and then his belly. When the last button us undone, the small man opens the cassock wide, as though he were a flasher in a dimly lit alley, almost proud to show me his wiry body.

While George slips the cloth from his shoulders, my eyes take in an unusual contraption between his legs. At the man's groin, a bright pink, plastic bulge dangles, toy like, from where one might expect his genitals would be. George takes the piece in hand, trying to engage with the shriveled appendage that is nearly hidden beneath it.

Then I notice a tiny lock holding it in place. No wonder George couldn't show off his arousal, but having never seen anything like this before, my face gave away my naiveté. All the while, I am trying to ignore an older lady's mouth and tongue swirling about my manhood.

Mum decides to fill me in on George's situation. "It seems that Tara has to keep her little boy in line. Don't you, my sweet?" Mum gives Tara's ass a sharp slap.

"Mmmmm," Tara begins, but then removes my dick from her mouth. "Yes. Poor Georgie can't keep from playing with himself. He definitely thinks more about that thing than I do. I just have to lock him up sometimes." Her left hand toys with the bauble on her necklace, which I now recognize as the key to the lock on her husband's junk. She laughs out loud, looking at her embarrassed spouse, and adds, "And, we will not letting that useless thing out tonight. Not when I can play with a real man's dick! I'll save my loving husband the ridicule of comparison with the young boy."

As George tries to give himself some sort of pleasure through, and around, his cock cage, I get a better look at the apparatus. The pink plastic dome is full of the shriveled wad of skin that is his manhood, which has been compressed between the pink lid and George's small nuggets, held in place by a ring that his nuts have been passed through. There is a small slit in the plastic dome, which I suppose would let him at least pee while caged.

I can't help but to ask, "Doesn't that make it hard to pee through?"

Though George opens his mouth to speak, Tara answers for him, "It works well enough. Georgie just sits on the toilet like a girl, so he doesn't make a mess all over the floor."

Tara has had enough sucking my dick to its fullest and moves her body higher over mine, until her mound of curly pubes nears my face. She takes her lacey panties from my face, and tosses them to George, who cups his hands around them and inhales her scent.

I do love going down on the girls I've dated, and this older woman's muff is definitely going to be a treat for me. I lose sight of the others as Tara grinds her pussy lips into my mouth. I service her with tiny flicks of her clit, before she begins to gyrate her hips into me. Between moans, Tara says, "What a tongue he has, Mum."

Tara has a wonderful aroma, and seems recently showered. I reward her with an intense tongue bath. While I lap up Tara's fanny, her moans fill the bedroom, and her husband watches intently from his perch next to the bed.

"I need his dick in me, Mum. Can I?"

"Sure, Tara, climb up on the boy. Derek, show Tara what a good fucking feels like. You will surely reach where her itch is needed most." Mum turns to the vicar, who is twiddling his plastic cage in his hand. Mum speahs loudly, in frustration. "For God's sake, Georgie, leave that thing alone. Or I'll banish you from the room!"

Seeing the dynamic ongoing in the room, I fiercely want to tear my arms and legs from their restraints, and bend the vicar's wife over. I want to ride her from behind like a stallion breeding a mare. I would have to settle for her being on top, and taking all of me inside her tiny body.

The waif edges herself down my rib cage, and atop my stomach, until my unwavering shaft nestles into the cleft of her backside. Tara wriggles her hips against my pole, savoring the sensation of my shaft against the sensitive pucker of her anus.

The vicar hesitantly asks, "Mum? May I?" He points toward us, his face pleading for an answer.

"All right, then. Go ahead and help the boy." Her head nods toward the bed, and the man quickly leaves his seat and kneels at the bedside, near enough to reach out and take hold of my erection. His hand fists around my shank, his thumb swiping up the long drool of precum, and moistens my cock head with it.

Mum has become the voyeur, and George the assistant. He can't help but to gently pump my rock hard cock a few times, relishing its size, a soft moan telling us of his excitement. Tara rises a bit off of me, enough for George to push my cock between his wife's thighs and into the matted curls enshrouding her labia.

Once the spear finds the slippery slit, Tara wastes no time in lowering herself onto me, pinning George's fist between us. She rises up a few inches and settles once again onto George's helping hand.

"That's enough Georgie," Mum declares, and the cuck retreats his arm, but dares not move away from the bed, where each sight and sound will drive him mad. Mum allows him to stay, while his wife impales herself to my root.

"Ahhh. Fuck," Tara calls out. "He's deep!' She wriggles on my fully embedded organ, the spongy tip burrowing into the woman's tender cervix. My hands want to make deep impressions on her hips and fuck her hard, but I am helpless, save for flexing my hips upward and eliciting a soft purr from Tara.

George strokes my hairy thigh, sensing the flex of those muscles as they strain to give Tara what she needs. His eyes never leave our union, Tara's juices making my shaft glisten, her noises escalating.

"I'm going to cum," I warn, I feel the inability to hold back any longer. At the same moment, Mum sits next to Tara, one hand soothing along the woman's back, the other reaching beneath Tara and flicking quickly over the engorged tip of her clit. Mum nods her approval, while Tara begins to writhe, the aching need to orgasm taking her over.

"Oh, God!" I announce. Immediately following, the first surge of cum pisses out and begins filling Tara's love channel. She grunts as well, humping her groin into Mum's slick fingers. I pump five or six more shots into the vicar's wife, looking at my thrusting cock as it appears between us with her movements. My thick cream churns Tara's labia into a frothy ring around my dick, gravity drawing my seed from her womb. Tara, at the end of her climax, falls forward onto the bed, my softening dick flops from her sodden cunt.

Mum is up from the bed, and asks, "What shall we do with Georgie now?" I look to the distraught fellow, staring into his wife's well-creamed pussy, his face filled with lust.

Tara rolls over and says to her, in between haggard breaths, "Maybe I should take Georgie home now, and give you some time quiet with your man, Mum. You know, before his Dad gets back."

Mum looks at me with a smile, and suggests to Tara, "That might be best. Your little man has experienced enough for one night. You can take Georgie home and free his wiener up. His little sausage might like a turn in your dirty puss. Would you like that, Georgie?"

"Oh, yes Mum. Thank you Mum," the small man pleads. He scurries around, gathering his wife's scant clothes, and offers them to her. While Tara and George tend to their clothes, Mum takes Tara's place on top of me, just above my knees.

I can only stare up at Mum's naked body. Her heavy breasts easily within reach, but for my restraints. Her weight is twice that of her friend, and I am eager for Mum to ride me like it will be her last.

Her fingers trace a line up my thigh, touching my spent cock for the first time, and are greeted with a twitch. One finger draws up the thick tube of the underside of my dick, swiping a dollop of my spent semen with it.

She brings her finger up, examining it, and then slips her digit into her mouth. "Mmmm," she says softly, sucking her finger clean of the creamy sample. "Would you like Mummy to suck your dick, Derek?"

I nod, and notice that the Johnsons stopped what they were doing to watch our interactions. "Say it, Sweetie."

My eyes went from Mum, to Tara, and then back, and then asked, "Will you suck my dick, Mummy?"

Her head lowers, kissing her way along the downy hairs of my chest, stopping to suck one nipple into her mouth. My cock twitches and I moan ever so softly. When she releases the nub from her lips, Mum turns to the couple and offers, "Get along then," before extending her tongue and tasting her way down my abs and belly button. One hand remained on my right nipple, gently twisting and pulling on it.

The Johnsons snap from their trance and finish dressing, then slip quietly from the room. I want to caress Mum's shoulders as her lips engulf my now semi-erect cock.

My Mum sucks my cock head as though she were using a straw. I wriggle a hand, fight my bond, wishing I could take the back of Mum's head and guide it as far down my cock as it could go.

Mum's tongue glides in and out of her mouth, washing my cock thoroughly, while she easily takes in my fully erect length. A hand cups my balls, and I am fully inside her now, the velvety texture of the back of Mum's throat tickles my cock head.

Instead, I am relegated to my hips thrusting slightly each time Mum's lips find the root of my organ. She mewls like a kitten, enjoying my ever more forceful thrusts.

I end the movements, my cock buried to the hilt, and hold that position. Mum twists her head side to side, a move no other girl has dared to do before while being deep-throated.

"Fuck, Mum!" I exclaim. She draws back and releases me, a hand taking place of her soft mouth. She slowly jacks me off, while returning to me, face to face.

When she leans in to kiss me, her tongue slides into my mouth, offering a faint flavor of my salty cum. Our tongues flick, snaking around the other. Mum's weighty breasts press into my chest, her nipples imprinted into me.