"This apartment's much too large now that my husband's gone," Martha Blumfeldt told the young widow. "I suppose that's why you sold your house?"
Ann nodded. "Yes. I tried to keep it up but every year it got a little harder. And with everything so expensive now…"
"I know," the old woman agreed. "I need the extra money the rent will bring in just to live as comfortably as I did a few years ago."
Bob, Ann's young son, felt himself grow horny as he looked from his mother to Mrs. Blumfeldt, then back to his mother again. Both women had incredibly huge tits, and he felt his face grow hot as he gazed at their tits. Jeez, what a tit-lover's dream this apartment was going to be!
In the three years since his father's death, Bob Foster had grown two inches and had discovered what a lot of fun rubbing his prick was. He rubbed it a lot, and most of the time his adolescent mind would go wild imagining his mother naked in the shower, her enormous, jiggling tits dripping sudsy water – and that's where his imagination ended. He'd never seen a cunt, not really. A couple of times some friends would sneak a page torn from some dirty magazine into school, and pass it around, but none of the pictures had shown a pussy close up. All Bob had ever seen was a bit of fuzz which was supposed to be pubic hair. What was under that hair remained a mystery.
"I think we're going to like it here," he heard his mother say, and he knew he had found a new home.
It was no wonder the boy dreamed about his mom while jerking off. Ann Foster was, without a doubt, a stunning woman. Her face was framed by a mass of long, chestnut-brown hair. Her eyes were very large and widely set, and nearly as dark as her hair, giving her a wide-eyed, surprised look of innocence that contrasted sharply with her extremely voluptuous body. Not many boys were lucky enough to have a mother who not only looked like a sex Goddess, but was also built like one.
Ann was five feet, four inches tall and weighed just a fraction over one hundred and five pounds. The way those pounds were distributed would have turned Dolly Parton green with envy, as her husband used to say before they went to bed. His insurance had left Ann comfortable, if not wealthy, and even provided for Bob's future. But life still seemed, except for her son, almost purposeless. Ann knew she was lonely, but she didn't know exactly what to do about it. And that was when her drinking began to increase.
She also began confiding in Martha more and more as the months passed. Living with another woman in such a large place had, surprisingly, presented no problems at all. There were two bathrooms, and more than, enough closets, and enough rooms for privacy. The kitchen was the only room the two women shred, and they often alternated the daily cooking and shopping. There were even neighborhood children for Bob to play with.
Martha Blumfeldt was forty-one, a widow for the past six years. There hadn't been one night in all those years that she hadn't missed the passionate nights she had once enjoyed. And now, knowing that Ann was sleep and not far away, made every night more of a torment. She had told herself not to fantasize about the voluptuous young widow, but she couldn't help herself. Did Ann play with her big tits and pussy, or did she control her lust? The older woman's mind was filled with thoughts of introducing Ann to the joys of lesbian sex, of sixty-nining and titty-sucking while rubbing cunts.
One night Martha heard Ann shut the bathroom door, and the thought of seeing the young widow naked made the older woman's erect nipples stretch out and scratch hotly against her big bra. She quietly stole to the door through the darkened hallway and bent her face to the keyhole.
Instead of seeing Ann stripping to take a bath or shower, she saw her friend sitting on the toilet, her legs spread wide. Her dress was pulled up past her plump white thighs, exposing an unusually plump and quite hairy cuntal mound.
Martha was entranced by Ann's large lipped, glistening pink pussy. The young widow's eyes were closed and her hands were massaging the soft flesh of her lower belly, her fingertips just touching the hair. The movement of her hands made her pouting pussylips open and close slightly. From time to time her clit popped into view. Martha's breath caught in her throat at first sight of it. Ann's clit was oversized, about as big as an unshelled peanut, and Ann caught it between her thumb and first two fingers and began stroking it as though it were a tiny cock.
"Ahhhhh-h-h-h-h," Ann groaned, spreading her shapely legs even wider. The lush, flattened cheeks of her ass pooched out under her cunthole. The watching older woman saw Ann's belly and thighs trembling with the pleasure coursing through her body.
Martha's cunt was burning furiously as she watched the young mother play with her pussy. Ann's other hand was slowly running two finger into her open, dripping pussy as her fat, loose pussylips hung and shook around them. Then Ann shoved the fingers deep inside, wiggling them. Her eyes squinted and her hips parted slackly as her face contorted with ecstasy.
"Agh! Ahhh-h-h-h! Ahhh-h-h-h!" Ann gasped, her hips and ass lifting and dropping on the toilet seat as she jerked her cunt up at her fingers. Finally, her fingers slipped free and she slumped, whimpering out her final bit of solitary pleasure. Her swollen pussylips were a bright, dark red, and her clit hung out as if begging for more stimulation. Martha was dying to suck Ann's clit and give it a good tongue-whipping.
The older woman returned to her room ten minutes later and finger-fucked herself until, exhausted, she fell into a very deep sleep.
The next few days were difficult for Martha, she knew what a lovely, suckable pussy Ann had. She found herself remembering her bisexual college days to the near exclusion of thoughts of her late husband's fucking.
Until, one day, her eyes wandered to a photograph of Bob and she realized Bob's slender body resembled her husband's in his youth.
Meanwhile, Ann was also experiencing the pangs of conscience that many lonely women felt guilt about masturbating and guilt over the unmotherly thoughts she experienced from time to time when she noticed her young son's body. More than once her cheeks had burned when she was wondering if he knew what his cock was for yet, and whether he had a lot of hair around the base of his cock. Once, she caught herself imagining him standing naked before her, an enormous hard-on in his fist.
And then one morning she woke up earlier than usual. She was about to fall asleep again when she heard a faint, but somehow familiar sound which aroused her curiosity. Slipping into her robe, she poked her head out the doorway and listened. There it was again! It was almost like a fucking sound. And it was coming from her bathroom, not Martha's.
Ann slipped down the hall and saw a light shining through the keyhole. The sounds were louder now. The young widow bent to look, knowing in advance what it was she would see.
Even with prior knowledge, she gasped. Bob was sitting on the toilet, and he had both fists wrapped around what had to be an eight-inch cock!
Ann went into shock as she watched her son use two hands to pump the cum from his balls.
Ohmigod! she thought, looking at the husky girth of his cockshaft. What a pussy-splitter! And the head of his cock flared out like a mushroom, an extremely fat mushroom! It was dusky with trapped blood, almost purplish in color, and it was dripping a thin stream of pre-cum.
Ann felt her cunt begin to drip as she watched her young son playing with his oversized prick. Her large nipples grew long and hot and hard. And very itchy. Before she realized it, she was plucking at them through her gown.
She knew she should turn away, give him the privacy that she wished for herself, but she just couldn't do it. His cock was bigger than his father's! She wanted to reach between her legs and play with her big, burning clit, but she knew she'd never be able to control the volume of her cries of pleasure. All she could do was pluck at her distended nipples and lick her full lips, and feel ashamed that her own son could arouse her like this.
Then Ann saw Bob straighten his legs out as far as he could, straining them until the muscles bulged. His fists were a white blur over the pink and red of his cock, and his hips were jerking as they hunched in a quick rhythm that matched his pumping arms.
"Ugh! Ugh! Ugh! Ugh-h-h-h…" Bob groaned.
His white jism erupted in a long stream from the swollen red head of his cock.
It flew at least three feet in the air, arcing to land on his knees, then his thighs and, finally, dribbling over his knuckles and down his big balls.
Ann discovered that she was biting her lip. She stared at the enormous load of cum Bob had just dumped on his legs. God, what would it feel like, having that much hot cum pumped into her throbbing cunt?
The horny mother clamped a hand over her aching pussy and squeezed hard. Hot cunt juice soaked through the material of her gown to dampen her fingers, and she sucked in her breath as Bob stood up. She thought at first that he was about to open the door. She panicked, but he merely reached for some toilet paper and began wiping the cum that was now running down his legs.
"Ohhh, Bob, baby," Ann whispered as her son's long, thick cock swayed and slapped wetly against his thigh as he moved. His prick was still fat, swollen with blood, and it was still dripping, and it looked lovely. It was the loveliest prick she'd ever seen.
That was the way her day started – with an itch in her cunt that she couldn't scratch until nighttime, and the memory of her son's huge cock burned indelibly in her tormented mind.
Breakfast was torture, for Bob wore only his pajama bottoms, and Ann found herself looking for the heavy movement of his dangling cock as he walked. When he turned away, she watched the flexing of his lean ass.
She was thankful when, a little later, he went outside to play with some friends.
Bob made friends easily, and it hadn't taken him long to fit in with the gang of kids that hung around the corner theater. Most of the boys were his own age or a year younger, so they were just as horny as he was. Usually, the main topic of conversation was what girl in the neighborhood had the biggest tits, which had the bounciest ass, and which one would give a hand job.
Thinking about some girl playing with his prick really turned Bob on, but he didn't think he'd be lucky enough to get jerked off any time soon. But it was nice to dream about, and he bragged about the girls he'd known in his home town who had pumped the cum from his balls and let him play with their tits and pussies. He was lying, of course, but the other kids couldn't be sure of that, and it made interesting listening.
"A girl ever suck it?" one boy asked.
"Naw, but one of these days." Bob knew when to quit lying. No one could ever believe a story about that, no matter how good he told it.
"C'mon, let's watch a movie," one of the acknowledged leaders said, and they all trooped to the theater, keeping their eyes peeled for some sexy looking chick.
Bob bought some popcorn and separated himself from the others. When he saw a cute girl, he followed her and sat down beside her.
It was dark enough to make him feel safe, and no one was sitting on the other side of him, so he slowly unzipped his pants and, using the big popcorn container to mask what he was doing, slowly pulled out his fat, half-hard cock.
His heart was racing, and his face felt hot, but he was horny as hell and willing to risk a scream. The girl was really nice-looking, and her this stuck out just enough to fill his hands. If he was lucky, maybe she'd play with him a bit, even though she didn't look as slutty as most the girls in the neighborhood. But he could, if she did scream, zip up before the lights came on and run to somewhere else in the theater.
"Hi," he said, turning to look at her.
The girl ignored him, except for leaning slightly away.
Bob blushed and he was glad it was too dark for anyone to see. He grabbed his cock and started pumping with his left hand. His right held the popcorn container on his upper thigh, keeping his fat cock hidden. Studying her budding tits, he worked the cum out of his balls. When he knew he couldn't hold back any longer, he tilted the popcorn container and, at the same time, he forced the head of his cock down. His jism jumped into the box, coating the piled-up popcorn and trickling down through it to the bottom. He squirted five more times, moving the box a little each time to make sure his cum was all over the popcorn. Then he shoved his prick in his pants, zipped up one-handed; then stood up to leave.
"I'm sorry I bothered you," he said. "Here, let me give you my popcorn to make it up to you." And he set the container on his seat and walked away.
Bob looked back when he reached the end of the aisle, and bit his lip to keep from laughing when he saw the girl look at the popcorn, hesitate, and then reach for it. He knew she'd mistake his warm cum for melted butter – until she bit into it.
"Come on," he whispered, "dig in."
Now she had the container on her lap, and she was bringing a fistful of popcorn to her mouth. Bob watched gleefully as she stuffed her face, and then he laughed out loud as she choked and sprayed cum-coated popcorn all over the people in the seats in front of her.
Bob wasn't dumb. He knew when it was time to leave. But before he was out of the theater, he heard the girl's high-pitched shrieks. So – she'd finally realized what it was she'd stuck in her mouth. He grinned. Jeez, he couldn't wait to tell the gang about this!
It wasn't until suppertime that Bob returned to the apartment. Sitting at the dining room table, he tried to keep his eyes from wandering too often to Mrs. Blumfeldt's heavy, round tits. Jeez, he was going crazy the way Mrs. Blumfeldt's creamy tits swelled the top of her half unbuttoned blouse!
Every time she reached for something, those twin white tit-mounds shook like jello!
And his mother! She was dressed different than usual, in a scoop-necked knit top that looked like it was painted on, and a short, tight skirt. That's when he got the idea. Maybe if he dropped something, like his spoon…
"Oops! Oh, darn!" he said, then bent down and crawled under the table. "It's gotta be here somewhere," he mumbled loudly while his eyes bored into the shadowy area under Mrs. Blumfeldt's hiked-up skirt.
He moved as close as he dared, then stared at the fat crotch of her panties. There was a slight bulge, a long one, in the center of the thin material, and Bob just knew it was her pussylips!
Afraid to stay under too long, he was about to return to his chair when he saw his mother's legs move apart. Almost shaking with nervousness and guilt, he scrambled so close that he had to hold his breath for fear she'd feel it against one knee. His mouth went dry as he saw the clumps of dark curls bursting from the elastic sides of his mother's taut panty crotch. Jeez, she had a lot of hair! Her panties looked even bulgier than Mrs. Blumfeldt's, but he couldn't see anything through them that might be pussylips. Shit!
"Bob? Can't you find it?"
When the boy heard his mother, he quickly got to his feet and sat back down. He knew he'd been out of sight much too long, but neither woman said anything. Both women were lost in their own thoughts.
Ann was still thinking about the size of her son's cock, and the amount of thick, sticky cum his balls held. Martha was toying with the idea of having both mother and son in bed with her. It wasn't a serious thought, just a pleasurable one. But she knew a boy Bob's age could cum and get hard almost immediately, especially with some help. And she did miss having a big stiff prick, stretching her snapping cunt.
Bob chewed his food, but he wasn't tasting it. He was staring at his plate, but all he could see before him was a pair of thin panties with lots of curly hair bristling around the edges. Jon, he just had to get a girlfriend soon! He just had to!
After washing and drying the dishes, the two women sat together on the couch and watched TV. Bob sat an the arm of the couch beside his landlady and, from time to time, he looked down at their exposed cleavages.
Once, Mrs. Blumfeldt looked up and caught his eyes, but he wasn't sure if she realized what he'd been doing. After that, he was more careful. But the memory of their gigantic tits lingered a long time.
Unfortunately, his bedtime was earlier than his mother's or Mrs. Blumfeldt's, so he had no more chances to peck that night.