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This is a story that came to me late one night after an evening of partying. I dashed it off and it sat in my In Progress folder for months. I was cleaning out that folder and reread it. I self edited, cleaned up some prose and offer it as is for your stroking enjoyment
Our female protagonist is consumed with finding a very special gift for her son’s 18th birthday. Then, after accidentally consuming a popular street drug, she knows what it is.
Andre Favreau held the door to the old Ford open as his wife Clarice slid into her seat. Unusual for him, he patted her full mature ass as she entered the car.
“My! We’re feeling frisky tonight.”
“Maybe it’s that red wine the Thompson’s served with dinner,” Andre laughed.
“Wasn’t it awful? I think I saw it on sale when I was shopping for Carl’s birthday present the other day.”
As Andre walked around to the driver’s side, he felt a little light headed. In addition, the streetlights seemed unusually bright. He slid into the driver’s seat, buckled up, started the car and guided the old sedan onto the deserted residential streets for the short drive to their home in the same subdivision.
The dinner at Eddie and Gail Thompson went like so many of their biweekly dinners. Gail fixed pot roast and boiled potatoes. As usual, both were underdone and the pot roast was greasy. The drug store bought red wine was unremarkable.
The only unusual occurrence in an otherwise ordinary evening was the behavior of the Thompson’s 20 year old son, Trevor. He seemed to be unusually ebullient, very jovial and touchy feely. His behavior raised suspicions that he might be using that street drug, Extacy, again.
A few weeks prior, Gail confided to Clarice that they found some pills hidden in his bedroom. They turned out to be that street drug. Gail said they confronted him about it. He cried and agreed to stop taking them. They decided against counseling, or god forbid, involving the police.
Unfortunately, Trevor lied to his parents. He continued to use the street drug. The night of the dinner, he managed to slip several tabs into the wine bottle. His drug-addled mind was sure that once they experienced the high they would understand.
“You still haven’t found a gift?” Despite the cool night, Andre felt unusually warm and turned on the A/C.
“No, but I have a few days. Even though he turned 18 Tuesday, we agreed to give him his gift at the family dinner this weekend.”
Clarice and Andre Favreau were 47 and 49 years old, respectively. They met late in life at a Christian retreat hosted by their church. They had a short courtship dominated by attendance at church socials, dances, and picnics. As part of their commitment to each other, they confessed their previous sexual partners. Andre had two that were the result of failed long term courtships. He was taken aback when Clarice confessed to several lovers beginning in her teens and continuing until she joined the church shortly before meeting him.
As the old blues song says, they were built for comfort not for speed. The grey haired dark skinned Andre was a big teddy bear of a man at 5’11” and 250 pounds. His rotund shape was the result of lack of exercise and Clarice’s love of cooking. Large round eyes, a wide long nose and full lips dominated his moon shaped face.
At 5′ 3″ and 170 pounds, Clarice had a soft body. She carried most of her weight in her 40″ hips and 42E breasts. Incongruously, even though she had a soft belly pooch, her waist was small enough that she approximated an hourglass figure. In her youth she was considered voluptuous. That and her open face with its oval shape, wide set eyes, thick cupid’s bow lips, large nose and sharp chin made her a plus size sex symbol back in the day.
“Turn the A/C up. It’s unusually warm tonight.”
Andre kicked the A/C up a notch. He too was uncomfortable warm. Perspiration ran down his jowly cheeks over his double chins and soaked the tightly fitting collar of his blue dress shirt.
“I really need to get service on this air conditioner. It doesn’t seems to properly cool the car.”
A warmth suffused Clarice’s body. Centered between her full thighs, it radiated throughout her body. Perspiration ran through her cavernous cleavage soaking the bodice of her button up the front print dress. Even her panties and bra were wet. Although, the wetness in her panties seemed to be more pronounced.
Andre watched as his wife flapped the hem of her dress trying to cool off. When she slid it above her knees, he could see her full chocolate thighs. They seemed to glow warmly, invitingly. He shook his head to clear it, retrieved his handkerchief from his inside jacket pocket and mopped his face.
Clarice Favreau was in an alcohol and drug induced fog. Sweat discharged from her pores saturating her underwear and her cotton dress. She felt at once confined by her body and outside of it watching herself squirm. The chilled air from the canlı bahis şirketleri Ford’s A/C caused her skin to tingle. With one hand, she grasped the front of her dress and pulled it away from her perspiring body. With the other, she slowly stroked her husband’s thigh.
Clarice’s hand slid up her husband’s thigh and over his semi hard cock. She squeezed it tightly. The car swerved as Andre reacted to her painful grasp by taking one hand off the wheel to grab her hand.
“Ouch! Take it easy, Clarice!”
“I’m sorry, honey! I feel so odd!” Clarice shook her head, trying to clear it. “You know we haven’t decided what to give Carl for his birthday.”
“I know, dear! Do we have to talk about that now? I need to concentrate on my driving. I’m feeling a little strange. Perhaps we had too much of that wine.”
Andre’s eyes flicked from the dark street to his wife’s full chocolate thighs. Each street light they passed seemed to imbue them with warm welcoming glow. The car swerved as he reached out and attempted to stroke them. He quickly returned his hand to the wheel. I’ve had too much wine, he thought. I need to concentrate on my driving.
Next to him, his wife used her free hand to slide her dress further up her thighs. She stroked the inside of her thigh with her hand, relishing the feel of skin on skin. With each stroke, she felt her pussy quiver. Dear god, she thought, why am I so horny?
The Favreaus 20 year marriage was solid. Early on there was a period of adjustment as Clarice’s sexual appetite exceeded her husband’s. Over time, using a series of vibrators she secreted in their home she controlled her ardor. She supplemented their weekly sexual trysts with vigorous clandestine sessions with her assorted toys.
Andre’s hand slipped off the steering wheel and grasped his wife’s thigh. Uncharacteristically for him, he pushed up her thigh and cupped her pussy. He panted as he felt the heat and wetness of his wife’s pussy. Slowly he pushed aside the damp gusset of her panties and let his index finger slip into sauna like wet heat of her pulsating pussy.
“Oh my god! Don’t stop! That feels so good!”
“Mmm you like that, lover?”
Andre felt an overwhelming sense of wellbeing. He loved his wife. He glanced down at the warm russet color of her thighs. They only rarely engaged in oral sex. Usually it was Clarice sucking Andre off. However now, if he could have, he would have buried his face between her thighs and licked her fragrant juices. Unbeknownst to either of them, the drug was intensifying their feelings.
“Oh fuck yes!”
Clarice’s plump thighs pumped up against her husband’s finger. Her hands covered his, trapping it in her needy hole. A part of her marveled at their unusual display of lust. Memories of sweaty trysts with lovers from years ago flooded her mind, adding to her arousal.
Clarice undid several buttons on her summer dress exposing her serviceable white bra. Her swollen distended nipples ached from rubbing against the cotton cups. As she perspired profusely, a small orgasm shook her body.
In short order they arrived at their home. Andre fingers poked several times at the garage door opener attached to the sun visor before he found it. They watched in awe as the garage door opened like the mountain in an Arabian Nights tale. The incandescent garage light shot rays of rainbows as Andre pulled carefully into the surreal beauty of their garage.
Carl angrily hung up the phone on Trevor Thompson. The druggie was not one of his favorite people. Even though their parents were friends, he avoided Trevor’s clique of drug users.
He called, giggling like an idiot, to say he had given their parents Extacy. In the background, Carl heard moans. Trevor said his parents were high and he was watching them fuck.
Carl was deeply concerned about how his parents would react to the drug. A couple of glasses of wine were their limit. He tried the drug once at a rave. He recalled being dehydrated from sweating and suffering severe muscle cramps. He never did it again.
Carl heard a thump as his father drove into the back wall of the garage. Carl frowned as, rather than roars of anger, he heard muffled giggles. That was unlike his staid church going mom and dad. Carl sat up from the coach in the Media Room just off the garage.
The Vaseline jar fell to the floor as he did. He was using it as a lubricant as he stroked his cock. Two women moaned with practiced regularity in the pornographic movie he was watching. He turned off the television and stuffed his rigid cock back into his boxers.
He shook his head in disbelief at the giggling and overly loud whispers emanating from the garage. It sounded like they were shitfaced. The effect of the drug varied from person to person. Carl was concerned that his parents were having a bad experience.
He turned on the couch and sat up, his bare feet slapping the carpeted floor. Several quick steps took him to the door connecting canlı kaçak iddaa to the garage. He reached out, turned the knob and pulled it open. What he saw startled him.
His mother was leaning over the hood of their old Ford with her fully unbuttoned dress thrown up over her back. Her white fullback granny panties hung from one ankle. His father stood behind her, his dress pants around his ankles. His sweat soaked dress shirt stretched tightly across his protruding belly. Perspiration ran in rivulets down his face and neck. The sweat soaked collar was a darker blue than the rest of the shirt. His father firmly gripped his mother’s broad ass as he slowly pumped his cock in and out of her pussy. Their heavy breathing and the sloshing sounds of his mother’s pussy filled the tight confines of the garage. Carl was embarrassed but aroused by the pornographic scene. It took an effort but he resisted the urge to touch his cock.
The wet sounds of his mother’s pussy accentuated their guttural animalistic snarls. Perspiration gleamed wetly on her butt. For the first time, Carl got a good look at his mom’s full mature ass. It was heart shaped, tapering from her delectable ass to her succulent thighs. He lost the struggle and touched his cock.
He had never seen his parents behave like this. Even though his room was next to theirs, he rarely heard them having sex. When they did, it did not last long. Now they were behaving like animals in rut.
Clarice’s pussy was hyper sensitive. It was not painful. Quite the contrary, every nerve in her pussy was alive and sensitive. And the lights and sounds! The squelching of her sodden pussy seemed to pulse in concert with the multicolored glow of the incandescent lights. She felt as though she were a pornographic actress on a stage bathed in spotlights. Waves of orgasms washed over her and broke only to surge again. She experienced tidal waves of orgasmic delight. Her copious pussy juices flowed, coating the inside of her thighs.
Andre glanced over his shoulder and saw Carl standing in the doorway. He experienced a moment of confusion. His natural modesty conflicted with this wanton display. However, under the influence of the drug, he smiled at his son and waved.
“We’ll be just a moment more, Carl.”
Coming down from her umpty ump orgasm and building toward the next, Clarice looked back at her son standing open mouthed in the doorway. He was such a good boy. The aura radiating from his body made him appear godlike. The huge bulge in his boxers seemed to pulse. She licked her lips as she saw him touch himself. Long suppressed memories surfaced, reminding her of the feel of a thick long cock. She wondered how that monster would feel in her. She waved and blew him a kiss.
Based on Carl’s one negative experience with Extacy, he recognized the symptoms. The profuse perspiring was symptomatic of the drug. It raised the danger of dehydration. He knew that they were well into the “Rolling balls” phase. An intense sense of wellbeing and a loss of inhibitions characterized it.
“Mom! Dad! You need to stop.”
He moved quickly to them. He grabbed his father’s arm and pulled him away from his mother. He heard a soft plop as his father’s cock flopped out of his mother’s pussy. With an obscene fascination, he watched a bubble of pussy juice form at her opening. It burst and contributed to the sodden mess that was his mother’s pubic thatch. The gaped inner lips of his mother’s pussy gleaming wetly. He read about a pussy gaping open in excitement in the many x-rated books that were his addiction. This was the first time he actually saw it.
At 18, he was still a virgin. His strict religious upbringing forbade premarital sex. Not that he had the opportunity to break the axiom. He was home schooled with limited social contact. What social life he had revolved around his church. The one rave he went to with Trevor Thompson was an aberration he always regretted.
Despite himself, Carl cock was incredibly hard. The aroma of his mother’s arousal permeated the tight confines of the two car garage. More bubbles of pussy juice formed at her opening. They popped and ran wetly down her thighs.
“Oh poo! Andre, you stopped too soon. Come on, honey! Finish what your father started.” As she spoke, she beckoned for him to come closer.
Concerned for their health, Carl turned and ran into the bathroom in the Media Room. He took two cups from the paper cup dispenser and quickly filled them from washbowl. Rushing back into the garage, he saw his mother was still bent over the hood of the car. His father stood next to her, his hands on the passenger side door. His head lolled below his shoulders, moving slowly from left to right.
His father took the proffered cup, tipped his head back and drained it. Andre giggled and slid to the floor between the car and the railing on the stairs leading down into the media room.
Instead of taking the cup, Clarice reached out and canlı kaçak bahis stroked Carl’s cock through his boxers. Then she pushed her hand through the slit of his boxers and grasped it firmly in her chubby hands.
“Ouch! Mom let go! Dammit that hurts. “
His cock pulsed as his mother showed surprising skill in stroking his tool. He grabbed his mother’s wrist with both of his hands and tried to free his cock from her painful grip.
“You watch your language young man!” His father said from his seat on the concrete floor, wagging a fat index finger back and forth like the arm on a metronome.
Clarice looked down at her husband as she slowly stroked her son’s cock. When she did the vibrant colors that permeated the garage ran like watercolors. For a moment, their beauty distracted her. She blinked. Then looked from the massive glowing tool in her hand to her husband’s sweating face. “His cock is much bigger than yours, Andre.”
“Well, you know what they say, Dear, anything more than a handful is wasted!”
“That’s breasts, Andre, not dick!” Clarice chuckled at her husband’s non-sequitur.
Clarice’s mouth was open, her lips moist as she watched the multicolored rays of light ooze from Carl’s cock and cover her hand with their brilliance. The more she stroked, the brighter the rainbow was. She raised her hand. She stared in utter fascination at the radiant colorful light covering her hand. She brought the hand to her mouth. The colors reminded her of the rainbow ice cream cones her mother used to buy her. Her tongue licked out and ran the length of her hand cutting a brown path in the delicious cream.
The taste was incredible. She slowly licked her palm then each finger, smacking her lips. The rainbow lights did not taste like ice cream.
“Mom! Dad! You guys are high out of your minds. I know what’s wrong. Let me help you!”
Still holding his mother’s wrist, Carl watched in lustful fascination as his mother licked his precum from her hand. He almost came when she smacked her lips.
Myopically, Andre leaned forward. He was having trouble focusing. The brightness of the multicolored lights blurred his vision. He reached out and grabbed his son’s balls. He rolled them gently in the palm of his hand. Like brown eggs, he thought, like two huge brown eggs.
Clarice’s legs felt rubbery. Without releasing her grip on Carl’s cock, she slid down the front of the car. She continued pumping hard on her son’s cock. A bright white glow emanated from the tip of her son’s cock. It grew, then elongated and splashed wetly against her mouth. Intrigued, her addled mind likened it to the lava lamps of her youth. It moved just as languidly. It seemed to go on forever, hitting her chin then her breasts. She touched her husband’s shoulder and pointed at the glowing white liquid flowing over her face and chest.
Already aroused by the porno he watched, Carl came hard. His cum sprayed his mother’s face. He pumped decreasing amounts of sperm over her neck and breasts. Sated, he slumped against the railing behind him. He watched with horror as his mother used her fingers to scoop his seed from her face. His semi rigid cock jumped when she took those fingers in her mouth.
He basked for a moment in the amazing afterglow. All the while, he watched his mother scoop his cum from her face and tits then lick it from her hands.
“What did you say dear?”
She offered a cum covered finger to her husband. He leaned over, took it in his mouth and sucked it clean.
“I said,” Andre mumbled, “his balls are like big brown eggs.”
“Mom! Dad! You’re high on Extacy. Let me get you inside!”
Carl watched as his mother massaged his cum into her tits. He was on sensory overload. The drug altered them psychologically. Their inhibitions lowered, they were living out repressed fantasies.
Carl had the metallic taste of adrenalin in his mouth. He knew he had to get his parents in the house. As he pondered his next step, he felt his cock sink into the warm wetness of his mother’s mouth. He had read about blowjobs and even seen them on his laptop and TV. Those experiences did not prepare him for the incredible suction his mother applied to his dick and almost prehensile feel of her tongue as it caressed his tool.
His hands shot out and grabbed her head. As he did he inadvertently pulled her head further up his cock, pushing it down her throat. His mother gagged and pulled back, spraying his shorts with saliva.
Watery eyed, she looked up at him. “Yummy,” she gurgled, “let’s do that again.”
“Mom! Stop!” Her grip on his rigid tool was tight, painful. He released his grip on her head and grabbed her wrist again, trying to free his cock.
“It so hard yet it feels so soft, alive.” Indistinct images of sex acts with lovers from her past flooded her mind. She recalled the many times she did this before she got married.
Clarice’s hands roamed freely over the living thing in her grasp. She spread the glowing substance over the long fat pulsating tube. It felt warm as it pulsed in her grasp. The head gleamed with an ethereal glow. The glow seemed to emanate from that single long wet point she saw before. Her tongue snaked out, sampling that nectar.
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