The Grimey Changeroom

Donny felt the tickle of the back of his mother's mouth retracting, followed by the sound of deep, guttural tones as her throat gulped away at his hot young cum. He gazed down to see her pull her head back up wildly, gasp for air, cheeks rosy and lips inflamed, then dunk her head back down again to suck his pipes dry. Vicky raised a finger to scoop a remnant of cum from her lip and edged it inside her mouth, licking the residue from her fingertip with relish.

Vicky's breasts flopped over and came to rest on Danny's utterly vanquished cock — the sight, an utter mess of intermingling sex flesh — and her head found a comfortable pillow on his relaxed abdomen. She crossed her legs over to recline against the towel on the floor as comfortably as she could manage.

Mother and son sat this way for some time, neither stricken by the pangs of shame and regret for having debauched one another; neither plagued by dread for the future. They simply felt good this way.

As a new set of voices began to emerge from the changeroom entry, Vicky stirred from her position, realizing that she didn't really feel like going for a swim anymore. "Let's head home Donny."