Everything has an end. Even the continental United States. We drove all the way the edge of it, until one day we were staring at the Atlantic Ocean.
"I wonder where we go now," I wistfully sighed.
Susan's answer was a wrenching cough. Her 16-year-old body was really too immature to adequately house the baby growing within it, and nausea had become a regular part of her existence.
It was clear that we had to settle down somewhere. Susan had received no medical attention since the discovery of her pregnancy, and it was obvious that her health was deteriorating.
We had been on the road for over six weeks, twisting and turning on a patchwork route across the country. This meant that my daughter was at least two and a half, possibly three months pregnant. With her slender teenage body, it was already starting to show. She had to leave her jeans unbuttoned to accommodate the increasing swell of her normally flat belly.
"Mom," Susan said, "staring into the ocean isn't going to solve anything. Why don't we just get back in the car and drive to the nearest big city and do what I've been suggesting all along."
"No, no," I firmly protested. "We can't risk an abortion. You're underage and you'd have to tell them so much the whole business about Slaughter would be opened up again. I'd rather have a rapist's baby as my grandchild than have to relive what happened on the farm. Don't you see, honey, you can't trust anybody. We've got to take care of our own."
"And that includes an unborn baby that won't see the light of day for at least six months," she sighed. "I know… I know, Mother. I've heard all this before at least a hundred times."
"Then you realize I'll never give my consent for an abortion," I closed the matter. "What we need is a place to settle so you can have your baby in peace.
While Susan was still staring dully at the ocean, I reached into my purse and extracted a quarter. "Heads, we go south," I muttered to myself under my breath. "Tails, north."
The sun came out from behind a cloud and made the coin glisten at the top of its flight. When it landed on the ground, George Washington's profile was shining at me.
"Get in the car, honey," I called to Susan. "We've got to be on our way."
"Where are we going?" she wanted to know.
"I'll tell you when we get there," I cryptically answered.
"Now what's that supposed to mean?"
"Just trust your old Mom," I winked, and opened the door and slid behind the wheel.
I'd been weary of driving for days, but now I drove like a demon, headed due south. I didn't slow down, except to stop for gas and take-out hamburgers, until a sign with a Confederate flag on it welcomed us at a state line several hundred miles from where we had started.
Now I slowed down, getting off the main highway and searching for a likely place to come to rest. I was determined that when we got out of the car it would be for good-our traveling days would be over.
"Serendipity, North Carolina," Susan read the sign in front of a ramshackle city hall as twilight turned into evening. "What kind of name is that for a town?"
"It means a fortunate and unexpected discovery made by chance," I informed her. "Need I say more?"
I pulled the car over to a curb and cut off the engine. There seemed no need to travel any farther. Serendipity it was.
The town, upon further inspection, seemed to be a place forgotten by the twentieth century. When the new highway had been built, bypassing it by twenty- five miles, Serendipity had been effectively excluded from the outside world.
The isolation was perfect for the kind of life I had mind. I was certain that in Serendipity, nobody would bother us if we didn't bother them. Contacting a real-estate agent, I purchased a house with a traditional white picket fence around it on the outskirts of town. I was certain we had found peace at last.
Susan's health improved almost at once. The bloom returned to her cheeks and she was beautiful again. Beautifully pregnant.
Every morning when I awakened, I pulled away the covers and gazed lovingly at her sleeping beside me. There was no doubt of her condition by now. Anybody who saw her would know she was with child, but of course it was rare anyone did because she hardly left the house. Her pregnancy was private, to be shared only by us. In a way it seemed the ultimate expression of our love for one another.
"You know, Mom," Susan said one day as I soaped her swollen belly in the bathtub. "Sometimes my mind wanders and I almost feel like I'm pregnant with a baby you made inside me."
I was overjoyed with her admission. This was the same experience I had been keeping to myself for so long.
"Do you really feel like I put your baby in your womb?"
"Yes, I have," she admitted. "At night, sometimes, I have incredible dreams about the conception."
"You mean, I'm fucking you?"
She nodded, then added: "And that's just the half of it."
"No wonder you've been waking me up so often in the middle of the night to make love," I said.
"What?" she blurted.
"Are you telling me you don't remember?" I responded with affectionate amusement.
"I honestly don't." She shook her tawny curls. "All I can remember are the dreams-what we did in the dreams."
"Tell me about them, Susan," I eagerly urged as she stepped out of the tub and began toweling her gorgeously nude body.
"Well, okay," she agreed. "But we'll have to go into the bedroom. I need to sit down if I'm going to put all that stuff out of my system."
"We'll lie down beside-each other on the bed," I suggested. "Don't put any clothes on, and I'll strip, too. I'll rub your tummy to relax you."
It was an offer she couldn't resist. My daughter may have been on the verge of being a woman, but as her mother I still knew what was best for my little girl.
My clothes came off during our trip to the bed. There, we pulled back the covers and climbed naked onto the cool sheets. Susan's swollen stomach loomed beside me like a gracefully rolling hill.
"Okay, darling, I'm all ears," I said when we got settled. "Tell me every detail."
"Start rubbing like you promised then, Mom."
My hand spread across her distended navel. When my fingers began circulating in a gentle arc, I could immediately sense the relaxation that softened my daughter's body.
"When it starts," she began, "we meet someplace. We don't know each other it seems. You're dressed like a man and you pick me up while I'm waiting for a bus or something."
"Go on, dear."
"We go to a far-out apartment somewhere," she continued. "I guess it's supposed to be yours. There are mirrors on the ceiling. A water bed. Sexy music coming out of hidden speakers. The works!"
"Yes?"
"Right away you start to seduce me, and start stripping me."
"What about you?" I cooed. "Don't you want it as bad as I do?"
"Oh, I do, I do!" she assured me. "Before long I've got my hand in your fly and it's a question of who's seducing who."
"What happens next?"
"Our clothes come off at the same time."
"And?"
"Here's where the really weird part starts," she warned me. "You're going to have trouble believing this."
"Try me."
"We're both wearing a second set of clothes underneath. You're wearing a bra and bikini panties."
"You're kidding?" I gasped in genuine surprise. "And what do you have on, jockey shorts?"
"No," she shook her head. "A jock strap."
I was momentarily speechless. I just stared at my daughter in wonderment. I'd had no idea her unconscious was so complex.
"Once our roles are reversed, we go after each other," Susan resumed. "Only now you're the one moaning that you can't wait to get your hands on my cock, and I'm telling you all the things I'm going to do to your pussy-just the opposite of the way it was before."
What Susan had revealed so far had undeniably shaken me. She could tell because I stopped rubbing her pregnant belly, completely distracted by her weird tale.
"Keep rubbing, Mom, or I can't go on," Susan told me. "This story is as strange to me as it is to you, and I'm the one who dreamed it."
When my hand resumed its circular pattern, its radius was much wider than before. Now I was gently stroking the abdominal base of my daughter's pregnant belly, brushing against her pussy at the bottom, and her breasts at the top. Apparently it made her feel much better because she was able to continue with her kinky tale.
"We finally strip away the second layer of clothes," Susan picked up the dream.
"We're naked?" I asked.
"Yes."
"Who's what?"
"Now it really gets eerie," she sighed. "We're both each-or, I guess you could say, we're each both."
"Oh my God!" I figured it out. "You're kidding!"
"No, I'm not," she assured me. "We've both got a cock and a pussy between our legs. In other words, we can fuck and be fucked."
"And we do it," I concluded.
"Yes. Violently. The harder we grind away with our hard-ons, the more deeply we feel it inside. It's an incredible sensation. And we can't stop fucking until each of us has come several times-as women, and as men. Pussy juice and cum all over the place."
"I can dig it." My stroking hand stopped at the top of her crotch and fingered her clit. "I can just see myself squirting a hard dick inside your tight pussy. Fucking my little girl."
"While she fucks her mother," Susan reminded me.
"Tell me, which one of us do you think has the biggest prick?"
"I do, I guess. After all, I'm older."
"Well," Susan chuckled warmly, making her clit stiff against my fingertips, "my pussy's the tightest."
"I know, dear, I know," I sighed. "Right now you've got me thinking about that damn dream so much, I wish I really did have a dick between my legs so I could fuck you good and proper with it."
"Go get yourself one of them, Mom," Susan said with hesitation.
"I don't know what you're talking about," I coyly lied, closing my fingers and squeezing my daughter's snatch. The thrill went all the way to her uterus.
"Mother," Susan said with mock impatience, "you know very well there's some Polish sausage in the fridge. Go get it before I come all by myself just from thinking about it."
There was no point in beating around the bush any further. We both knew that we both wanted it-so we might as well get down to the exciting business of really fucking each other with something big, and long, and juicy. Polish sausage would do just fine.
Getting the phallic substitute from the refrigerator, I was immediately seized by the desire to cram my end of it up my twat without delay. By the time I returned to the bedroom, the free end of the sausage was hanging from my crotch like a semi-erect cock. Catching a reflection of myself in the mirror, I was pleased that I actually looked like someone who could fuck.
"Oh, Mom," Susan squealed with delight, "I love your big, thick cock! Come over here and fuck my pregnant pussy with it!"
Advancing on her just like a man stripped for action, I centered the meat between my legs on a direct line to my daughter's spread-eagled snatch. Then, by violently constricting my pussy muscles around the enclosed end of the sausage, I found I was able to make the free end stiffen in the air.
Yes, I had an erection!
"Oh Mom, you've got a hard-on! An honest-to-God hard-on!" Susan babbled deliriously.
"You better believe it," I responded just like a macho stud who knocked off a different piece of ass every night. "And I'm going to fuck your tight, little cunt with it until I make your baby pop out of your belly."
Believe me, there's nothing like a pregnant, spread-legged teenager to get you hot when you've got several inches of firm meat to do something with growing from your groin. I wanted to have sex with my daughter as a man even more than I ever had as a woman.
When I arrived at the bed, I had to maneuver myself over Susan's body so her swollen belly wouldn't bump me off. Then, grasping the big wiener at my crotch, I shoved it into my daughter's hungrily gaping cunt.
"Oh, Mother, that's it," she groaned with abject pleasure. "It really feels like a cock inside me. A big… thick… hard… cock!"
As I pushed in harder and harder, I could feel the tremors from Susan's tight, spasming pussy coursing up the sausage to my loins. It was just like fucking her with a natural hard-on. No real man ever derived as much sensual pleasure from a young girl's cunt as I was now getting from my daughter's.
"Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!" she was chanting. "Fuck me so hard the baby feels it. God, I love your big cock so fucking much!"
The compliment was appreciated because I was doing my best. However, I couldn't help but notice that the sensation of penetrating Susan's pussy was gradually giving way to something else. The force of my aggression was slowing down.
"Keep pushing back, Susan," I told her when I'd figured it out. "I'm inside you as far as I can go. Now it's your turn to fuck back. Just like in your dream. Fuck me, darling, fuck Mother as hard as she's fucking you!"
Yes, yes, the momentum had completely changed. Now Susan was screwing me, moving her stiff portion of the meat within my convulsing cunt.
It was as close to fantasy as reality could come. My daughter's incredible dream brought vibrantly to life.
"Fuck me harder! Harder!" we both moaned simultaneously.
Inside our hot pussies, the sausage was getting cooked from the erotic inflammation. Its Polish juices were starting to bubble and sweat from its pulsing skin. If the casing ever broke, the greasy outpouring would produce the same sensation as a rush of sizzling male cum.
Sensing the ejaculatory possibilities of a ruptured sausage, I began to work my cunt muscles like the blades of a meat grinder. I wanted some hot, thick juice in my snatch as badly as I'd ever wanted anything. And just as intensely, I wanted to deposit an equal load in my daughter's thirsty teenage gash.
Susan immediately started to employ the same strategy. I could hear the squishing as her narrow fuck-hole closed down on her half of the sausage.
We grunted, sweated, and writhed, doing everything we could to bust the thick piece of meat that joined us. It was fucking at its best-and there wasn't a man in sight.
"Mmmmm, I think I'm coming!" Susan gasped.
"Oooooh, so am I," I gasped.
All of a sudden my cunt was flooded with a scalding ooze. The sausage had burst at my end, flooding me as though it were a spurting cock.
"God, it's happening, Susan, it's happening!" I cried, completely carried away by my orgasmic euphoria. "You're making my pussy wet with your hot juice!"
"Same here!" she gushed excitedly. "My twat is dripping!"
The thing between us was no longer a sausage in either of our minds. No, I was fucking Susan, and my daughter was fucking me. We were temporarily blessed with the cum-laden male tool.
As the gruel flowed like greasy wine in our thirsty cunts, Susan and I shook from constantly building climaxes. We had to hold on to each other to keep from falling off the bed, and we did, I came into direct contact with my daughter's pregnant belly.
Quickly we discovered that our meat connection was long enough so that we could still fuck.
Then, at the peak of our coming, the baby started to kick. Poor thing, it was probably rattled by its teenager mother's incessant orgasming.
"Can you feel it?" Susan whispered in awe.
"Yes, a healthy baby. The product of love."
Overcome by maternal intuition, I dropped my face to Susan's tits, sensing I would find something exceptional there. When I suctioned my mouth over one of the erect nipples, sweet mother's milk filled my mouth just as I had anticipated. At sixteen my daughter's breasts weren't nearly as large as mine, but they were certainly adequate for nursing.
Feeling me suck the milk from her left tit, Susan lost no time in trying to return the favor. Incredibly, I could sense my right jug being drained as though a vampire with a breast-fetish had attacked me.
Fucking and nursing without restraint, Susan and I probably would have gone on making love for an hour or so before we unlocked had it not been for the crash. And, believe me, it had to be an enormous disturbance to draw our attention.
Reluctantly pulling away from one another, Susan and I ran into the living room and looked out the window. A huge truck had run off the road and tipped over. It resembled a toppled dinosaur in the distance.
"The driver must have been lost. That's the first big rig I've ever seen in Serendipity," I noted.
"Gee," Susan said in a kind of hush, "I wonder if he's dead."