Their Silent Whispers

Chapter 1: The Players

Pastor Gabe (actually Gabriel, but he did not want to appear sanctimonious) felt his mission in life was to save souls. Especially female souls, because men didn't worry about saving their asses, only their assets. He had a family -- a puritanical wife, and a high-spirited 19 year-old daughter, Carole.

His congregation was smaller than it used to be. There were now about thirty mixed couples, all over 30, and two seniors who were widows. It wasn't his usual Sunday sermon that drew his parishioners because screaming about eternal damnation and hellfire and brimstone scared people away. He spoke about God's love and how God loves you even if you're worthless and good-for-nothing. He spoke about Mary Magdalene and how she was a whore and how much Jesus loved her. This provided some insight about his own hedonistic life style. Preachers, as you know, are not exactly Christ figures.

His congregation wasn't always small. It was one Sunday that Pastor Gabe took the plunge, when he actually had hundreds of people who attended church services. He preached from the writings of Paul, especially about love. Paul didn't have much to say about free love, per se, but Pastor Gabe felt you can't have too much of a good thing. At this point in time he was named as co-respondent in three divorce cases, as well as two husband out gunning for him. This resulted in his congregation shrinking. The two widows have decided to become Buddhists.

Marge and Ingrid each had one son, and were active church members. People thought the two women were lesbians because they never seemed to date men. They were in their sexual prime, and both were Vassar graduates. Marge, a Libra, majored in history which qualified her for becoming a waitress. That is, until she decided to become a writer and got a job with a local paper writing obituaries.

Ingrid was a Virgo and possessed a sharp mind. She was very clean, and was a lot of fun at parties -- emptying ash trays. She taught herself how to program, and found work as a tech writer. They met at church because both of them sang in the choir. Singing gospel music doesn't require much voice training, having a good pair of lungs being most important. Ingrid sang soprano, but Marge had a husky lower voice; she was a contralto.

Marge was a busty, size 12. For you men, this means she was on the voluptuous side, with a curvy figure, and certainly not fat. To say her breasts attracted attention is an understatement. She was still married but never saw much of her husband. He was good with languages so he got himself a promotion -- to Tokyo. She hadn't seen him in two years.

She had a son, Henry, a 27 year-old musician who didn't work much since he never joined the musicians' union. He played the violin, and spent hours every day practicing caprices by Paganini. These were compositions written for a virtuoso violinist. For some reason, Paganini's music made him horny so he'd end up masturbating in his bedroom. He had fantasies about his mother, Marge, because Marge never closed her bedroom door when she dressed. Her son was just her son.

Chapter 2: Ingrid

Ingrid's being a tech writer required some knowledge of programming languages, along with translating tech speak into everyday English. Ingrid cursed herself for not majoring in computer science, where she could have earned a 6-figure salary. She married right out of college, marrying a mathematician with the smallest penis she'd ever seen. His name was Peter, a cruel play on words.

Saving herself for marriage was a horrible mistake. She spent most of her time giving mini-handjobs to her husband until one day the UPS driver fucked her senseless, taking her virginity, and leaving her pregnant. Peter divorced her, deciding that solving differential equations for NASA was more cost effective than hiring a private detective to keep track of Ingrid. Her son, Jonathan, grew up fast, and decided to become an electrician. He loved schematics but didn't have Peter's math aptitude required to be an engineer. Because he became an electrician, he made much more money than an engineer.

Jonathan, almost 30, was a well built man, tall and muscular like his UPS driver father. He had a winning smile and a horse cock. His work as an electrician provided him the opportunity to service housewives in more ways than one.

Ingrid was now 52 years old, and she hadn't been fucked since the UPS driver knocked her up. All that had passed her pussylips in all these years had been her own finger, and, once, a stalk of celery when she'd been half drunk and out of her mind with horniness.

She was still beautiful, she told herself, standing before her mirror. Lush lips, a slightly pug nose, and thick, red hair with golden highlights. But it was her figure that men noticed first. She didn't bother to work out at the gym or engage in yoga because she had good genes.

Everyone knew she was divorced. She sighed, cupping her jugs through the transparent nighty. They'd really developed after giving birth. Now they were so big she had to order a special bra. Her nipples were as thick as thumbs and always itchy, which was why Ingrid paid special attention to them prior to finger-fucking herself.

She usually diddled her pussy twice a day -- right after breakfast, when Jonathan left for work, and at night when he was at home. She had a long standing bath tradition: she'd been letting her son wash her back for years, and it was a habit she just didn't have the heart to break. How would she be able to explain it to her son?

She was becoming concerned, for lately it had become less of a habit in her mind and more of a thrilling prelude to her night time masturbation. She'd been careful to keep her back to him, but her tits were so big that she knew he probably saw a lot of her breasts, over her shoulder or past her arms. She was ashamed to admit that this bit of exhibitionism helped turn her on and made her nightly masturbation that much more fun. Her frigging herself was her greatest pleasure in life, of course.

Ingrid made sure that Jonathan knew better than to mention their bath activities to anyone. Right now, bedtime, was the hardest part of her day. She was super horny, and her bath routine made her horny to the point of screaming. Ingrid thought of her big empty bed and how long it took her to fall asleep after fingering her big mature cunt. She sighed and was about to climb into the tub when she noticed a faint, rhythmic squeaking somewhere in the house. It bothered her so she put on her red robe and stepped into the hall.

"Aha ..." Ingrid whispered to herself when she saw a light shining under Jon's door. Realization shot through her. Of course! he was jerking off! Well, why not? All guys jerk off, right? She knew Jon jacked off a lot, because his sheets were caked with cum. The thought of her son's fist wrapped around his stiff prick, tugging it to orgasm, sent lewd thoughts and salacious urgings coursing through her sex-starved body. It had been a long time since she'd seen him naked.

Tiptoeing down the dark hallway, the horny woman's solid, jutting jugs bounced and swayed beneath her robe. The scraping of her big nipples against the satin material increased her excitement. She knelt at his keyhole and gasped in shock. Jon was gripping his stiff, dripping cock with both hands, one above the other, and there was more knob still exposed.

"Ohmygod!" Ingrid gasped. Where had he inherited such a monster cock? Her ex-husband's penis had been almost invisible. This monster with its flared, crimson head resembled a thick, pale water moccasin, squirming as he whacked away.

Without even thinking, the aroused mother dropped her hand to her thickly haired crotch and cupped her pussy flaps. She held her breath as her soft fingers peeled the spongy pink labia apart, giving her access to her stiffening clit. "Ahhhh-h-h-h-h," Ingrid sighed softly, keeping her eyes on Jon's double-gripped prick. Beneath it, his fat, hairy ball sac hung lewdly as he pumped his weapon. She could see that his eyes were glued to his erection, obviously fascinated by the size and fleshiness of his joint. She wondered how long he'd been pulling at himself, and how long he'd last.

Her cunt was throbbing now, dribbling hot juice into her palm. The slippery stuff dripped between her fingers and splattered on the floor like rain, but she didn't care. She was fighting back an almost irresistible urge to rush in and help her handsome son pump out his fresh, manly sap.

Whimpering with erotic frustration, her other hand lifted one of her huge, dangling jugs and shoved it against her lips. The nipple was poking out stiffly, and Ingrid sucked it into her hot mouth and chewed on it. She'd always loved the taste of her big pegs and the feel of her mouth on them. Sometimes she sucked on them three or four times a day. She used them as tranquilizers that kept her from becoming a sex-crazed alcoholic.

She was squirming her plump, round ass as her stiff fingers pumped her juicy fuck-hole. Her clit was swollen and throbbing like a tell-tale heart, her thumb flicking at it as her fingers wiggled deep inside. She was about to cum and from the look on Jon's face, so was he. His hands were wanking faster, sliding his foreskin over his fat cock; he raised his upper body a bit to watch as the knob got redder and dribbled more precum.

"Ughh!" she heard him gasp. "Uhhh! Uhhh! Uhhh!"

Her son's eyes were shut and he grunted loudly with each squirt. First, a thick spurt of milky cum blasted from the tip of his jerking prick, like a big silver bullet, and landed on his chest. It was followed by more hard spurts of white cream, each larger than the last. Ingrid had never seen so much cum at one time in her entire life.

Then her own climax hit, and she opened her mouth wide and stuffed as much of her soft tit-flesh in as she could. She had to muzzle her squeals of pleasure and her fat tit was the best gag she had. Her hips did a figure-eight twice, climaxing so hard that she grew dizzy and had to brace herself against the wall.

"Huhh-h-h-h," Ingrid sighed softly, allowing her sore tit to fall from her mouth. The huge pink areola around her big nipple was marred by teeth marks. With a reluctant temporary farewell to Jon's massive truncheon, she zig zagged back to her bedroom.

She flopped onto her bed, exhausted by her mind bending orgasm, but she laid there for a long time thinking about the enormous cock only a few doors away. She couldn't help wondering if, when he was jerking it, he daydreamed of her sitting naked in the bathtub.

***

Lying on his bed, Jon eyed his limp cock and sighed. He reached for the tissues he kept by the dresser and wiped the remnants off his chest. He liked the pungent smell of his cum for some reason. He wondered if the smell would affect girls that way. It sure didn't smell like lavender, but some women liked to swallow it. Did they really like it, or swallow it like taking castor oil? This was a mystery to him.

He waited, as usual, just before bedtime for his mother to call him into the bathroom to scrub her back. He'd been doing it for almost as long as he could remember, but about a year ago it had really started getting to him. Feeling her smooth, silky skin under his soapy palms made his balls ache, and he was sporting an economy-sized erection whenever he was lucky enough to get a peek at her nipples. Which was quite often.

Usually, she always made him leave before she got out of the tub so he never had a chance to see her plump buttocks naked. But Ingrid was getting itchy and having her back washed only intensified the cravings between her legs.

***

We need to re-wind our story temporarily so you can better appreciate the level of erotic anxiety Jon was about to experience.

This evening he was back early for dinner. There was a special treat in store for him because his mother was wearing her new polyester slacks. And as she moved around the kitchen, Jon kept his eyes on her wide ass. Her plump cheeks jiggled with her quick movements, and he could see her deep ass crack. He felt his cock growing hard under the table.

What an ass! He felt his cock ooze pre-cum into his jockey shorts. "Your... your new slacks are really nice," he heard himself telling her, and felt his face turn red.

"Oh?" Ingrid turned, flattered. Jon didn't usually comment on what she was wearing. Last week she had bought an expensive dress at Nordstrom's and he didn't say a word. But she wasn't stupid. When she saw her son's flushed face she thought a bit, then surmised he'd been admiring her ass.

She turned her back to him and looked at it over her shoulder. "Do you think maybe it's a little too tight over my butt?" she asked.

"Uh, no ..." Jon said, his eyes sweeping over the curves of her semiglobes. "It's nice, your butt is perfect. "

"Maybe it's me," Ingrid said thoughtfully, teasing him. "Maybe I'm just too fat back there, huh?"

"Uh..." Jon's mind went blank as his mother wiggled her hips with the question, causing her two plump mounds to quiver sensuously.

"What do you think, Jon?" she continued, smiling at his awkward attempt to be nonchalant as he looked at her ass.

"Uh, no, it's great ... uh, I mean, it's not fat..." He decided to be completely honest: "I think you have a beautiful ass ..."

Ingrid smiled. Poor guy, he must really be horny, she thought. If he gets this hot and flustered just looking at my bottom, what must washing my bare back do to him?

"Thank you," she said and watched him gobble down the rest of his meal.

He went into the living room and watched TV with his mother after dinner. When it was nearly bedtime Ingrid got up, stretched lazily, and walked to her bedroom. Jon's restlessness had been obvious to her, and she couldn't help smiling as she thought of him sitting impatiently in the living room, with a throbbing erection, waiting for her to call him.

Ingrid usually undressed in the bathroom but tonight she decided to give Jon a real thrill. She stripped and briefly examined herself in the mirror. Nice boobs, she thought. They droop a bit, but still stick out firmly enough to make me the envy of all the women in the neighborhood!

And while she watched, the heavy patch of her thick pubic hair grew wet. Her plump, red cunt lips were already oozing, preparing her for a good fucking. If only! she thought, rubbing her growing clit.

She opened her door and scooted down the hall to the bathroom. Neither her room nor the bathroom could be seen from where she'd left Jon, but she was certain he'd be peeking around the corner, hoping for a glimpse of his voluptuous mother.

Ingrid heard the slight squeak of a floorboard and knew she'd been right. Her face burned with excitement as she felt her son's eyes resting on the dimpled cheeks of her plump ass. Luckily, the bathroom was only a few steps away so she was able to close the door and cut off his view in a matter of seconds. But Ingrid was sure that those few seconds had given Jon a roaring hard-on.

"Oooooh," she sighed, rubbing her clit and wishing Jon wasn't her son so she could rush out there and sit on top of that thick shaft. I'd ride him till I got saddle sores! she thought excitedly, visualizing her firm white cheeks slapping against him, as she bounced on his convulsing cock.

This lurid mental image made her decide to soak in the tub a bit longer before calling Jon. The delay would increase his excitement by giving him more of an opportunity let his imagination run wild. Moreover, it give her time to diddle her pussy, lying on her back in the tub, her knees bent and her groin easily accessible.

She slowly stroked her fat cunt lips while the tub filled, building up her own excitement. Her swollen clit was already standing out, hanging with its own weight like a knuckle-less, boneless little finger. It twitched slightly as she watched it, and she wished she had someone's lips wrapped around it right now!

"Jon, time to wash my back!" she cried loudly as she stepped into the tub and sat down. To hell with soaking! She turned her body so her heavy breasts faced the tile wall and away from the door.

The door opened almost immediately, proving that Jon had been outside waiting. Ingrid didn't dare look at her boy, but she was sure that his face was as hot as her own.

"You ready, Mom?" he asked, his wide eyes sweeping across his mother's dry back.

"Uh-huh." Ingrid nodded.

Jon gulped, grabbed her wash cloth and the bar of soap and began washing her shoulders and upper back very slowly, while kneeling beside the tub. Ingrid felt her vagina throbbing, almost causing air bubbles in the soapy water, and she started to moan. She was trembling with need, but knew she should control herself. Still, she wanted to excite both herself and her unsuspecting son even more than usual tonight.

"Oh, I feel so lazy," Ingrid sighed, her face flushed, "and you're doing such a good job ... would you mind washing a little longer, just this once?"

When his beautiful mother stood up in the tub Billy's eyes bulged and his cock morphed into an iron bar. He stared at her wetly quivering asscheeks, then moved to the side a bit and found himself looking at the bottom of her heavy jugs.

"Jon, remember you said my behind wasn't fat? Well, I had slacks on, then. What do you think, now?"

"Jeez, Mom," he breathed, his hands trembling as he stared at his mother's bare, gleaming ass. "It... it's beautiful!" He felt his cock straining against the leg of his pants. She expects me to wash her bare ass! he thought excitedly.

Feeling extremely self-conscious, poor Jon tentatively used the cloth and made large circles across her luscious, firm ass cheeks. He felt like grabbing his cock with his free hand but didn't have the nerve to play with himself behind his mother. She could turn around at any time.

He scrubbed his mother's ass vigorously, moving her delicious globes around. He parted them briefly, and got an eye-boggling glimpse of her anal pucker. It was vulnerable, wet and winking!

Ingrid pulled away and asked him to rinse her. He was finished rinsing all too soon and drew a deep breath as he sat there admiring the view. Slowly she turned around, her entire vaginal area was eye level to him, and her clit rigidly aimed at him like a miniature rocket.

It was too much. He pulled his mother's wet buttocks close and buried his face into her wet hairy patch, slipping his lips over her pulsing clit. She meowed like a hungry cat as he sucked at her clit, causing her to lose her balance and fall backwards into the water. Her thighs were spread apart, giving Jon a view that would launch a thousand ships.

He'd never eaten a woman's pussy before, but it seemed to be self evident. He didn't need an instruction manual or a schematic. It was very hairy, the labia were parted open and her clit looked huge to him. Her arms were on the sides of the tub so she couldn't hold her pussy open for him. But Jon was no dummy and he'd been waiting too long for this opportunity. He nibbled and sucked while he held her steady; she howled with pleasure. And to show her how much he loved her, he stuck two fingers up her ass as he enjoyed his snack.

Chapter 3: Pastor Gabe

As she did every Wednesday afternoon, Carole went over to the rectory where she helped organize her father's paperwork. He typically worked on his Sunday sermon on Wednesday morning, having to re-write it over and over. His congregation was very touchy these days about women in the media giving blowjobs to creepy, old newsmen. His desk was covered with re-writes, and coffee stains. Quite unusual, there was a full length wall mirror, visible only when the door was closed. He loved to stand in front of the mirror, watching himself masturbate with his pants around his ankles. He'd pretend he was preaching, spouting off scripture to women who usually sat in the front row. They would be smiling approvingly at him as he wanked.