Helping His Mother Get Ready

Note : This story is completely fictional!

Sharon Cliteau, a heavily-busted, medium-height brunette with an expansive, hour-glass figure, had entered a taxi dressed in a red, gauzy, gown and slurring her words, directed the driver to a riotous sports bar.

After kneeling into Sharon's thatch to slide a stocking up her smooth widening thigh while her breasts bobbed with swallowing from a cocktail, her horny son had encircled her plush waist, hooking her teddy with dangling garter straps. "You look beautiful. Are ya gonna fuck lotsa different guys tonight, mom?"

"Yes, baby, I sure hope so. It's part of being a woman, an you know I'm all woman."

"Ooohh mom!" he almost moaned with his rut, "You ARE all woman, an your body's so sexy! Are ya gonna do it a whooole lot tonight?"

"Yes, darlin, a whole lot. (gulp). I'm gonna be a very bad with lotsa bad men."

"Are ya gonna cum home dirty."

"I’m not sure dear; I try to clean up, but what with all the goings on, I don’t usually get around to it."

"Ooohh mommee, can I lick it when you’re all messy on account of your womanhood."

"Then, I'll make sure my bodie'sh wet so you can enjoy my womanhood. Ooohh God! You shouldn’t have said that. Thass sooo sick!"

"The hairy thing between your legs is swollen again. Is it swollen because you're thinkin about what a bad woman you're gonna be?"

"Yes, baby. Thanks to what you just said, my pussy's getting ready for some heavy?duty love?making."

"Can I feel if it's wet?"

"It's wet honey. Go ahead, you bad boy, you can put your fingersh in me. Ohh, that's nice." As Henry did, Sharon drained another glass and gasped, "Pull your fingers out of mom'sh pussy now, darlin an see how wet they are."

"Ooohh mom," Henry groaned as he held up dripping fingers. “You're wet!"

"Putcher fingers up so I can lick them off." She bent over with enormous breasts hanging in her son's face to savor the boy's exhibit from her body.

"Then putcher fingers back inside me. OK, pull 'em out an lick. Does it tase good, baby? Canya taste how horny mom is, darlin? Iss it good? Do ya like it?"

“Ooohhh mom. I love it!”

"Wouldja like a drink right from my pussy?"

"Ooohh YAAA, mom!"

"Now cup your palm while I rub myself. Aaahh! Uuuhhh! Aaaahhh!“

AAAHH! YES! YES!” 

As Sharon bathed in the afterglow of her first orgasm of the night, she asked, “Do you wanna be the first mutherfucker to suck my cunt tonight, dear?”

“OH YES, MOM!”

With that, she spread her knees and presented her son with the fleshy expanse of her flawless inner thighs, widening as they converged on her hairy mound, her organ of lust--her contribution to various gatherings which always became the main focus for all the other debauchees. 

“Here we go, baby; here we go,” she gasped as, with her jugs swinging over his neck, she drew his face into her thatch. “Here we go. Here we go. Here we go. Open your mouth, dear! Thass right! Thass right! Thaass right! Yes! Ooohh God! Ooohh God! Suck it! Suck it! Oohh my God! Ooohh my God! YES! YES! YES! YES!”

One of the beautiful things about Sharon's voluptuous body is that her flow increases with her drunkenness. So, this cunt eating went on through three more orgasms and several more drinks.

When Sharon finally did leave the house shamelessly holding a small handbag with some feminine items, a vibrator inside and a double dildo poking out the top, she was drunk and very, very horny. Nevertheless, she maintained the type of feminine bearing that attracts men like dogs.

While Sharon was making her grand entrance into the sports bar by lifting the hem of her dress above her wide thighs exhibiting a pantyless crotch and drunkenly announcing, “I’ve got something for everybody!” her waiting son had opened a bottle of his mother’s Martini mix and popped a porn tape into the VCR. 

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"MAAAHMEEE!" the inebriated boy slobbered as he clung to the nakedness of his lovely but very drunk mother's gooey, bosomy chest. She had done it! 

Her foxiness had become dissolved in alcohol and drugs by the time she had arrived back home. “RAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHH!” Sharon roared as she staggered in the door—her dress so ripped it trailed along behind her nakedness, her cum splotched hair awry, glutinous globs of love-making residue dripped from her chin to add to the gloss covering her smooth, full breasts which slewed above the firm dome of her tummy, beneath which nested the main attraction of the party she had inspired with her nymphomaniacal insatiability.