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Max has it all. With his gorgeous mother taking the Bimbo Pill, she is an insatiable nympho, and the sex couldn't be better. But when his college-age sister Linda learns the truth, she is infuriated. She comes home, demanding that Max and Veronica end their wicked ways. But Veronica has a plan. Linda isn't going to beat them. She's going to join them! ~~~~~ PG Excerpt ~~~~~ "Well," she giggled. "I told him about this fantasy I had. And he didn't like it. He said it was too weird." "What was it?" Her mother's voice was carefully bland. "I wanted to have someone watch us. When we made love." She scowled. "Why not? I did everything he wanted in bed. Even if I didn't really like it. "But if I got off on a fantasy of having someone watch us, I was the weird one." To her shock, she found out that tears were rolling down her cheeks. "It's not weird, Linda Lou Who." Her mother's voice was incredibly gentle as she used her old nickname, and she raised her head, blinking. "It's a very common fantasy. I've had it, more than once. Though your father," she said, grimacing in disgust, "would have put out his own eyeballs before he let anyone watch us having sex. God, he was such a prude. Any position that wasn't with him on top and me on my back was totally off-limits." Through her tears, she gave a watery giggle. "Yeah. Eric was the same way. That if he wasn't in complete control, then he was somehow less of a man. And if someone watched us, especially a guy, it might turn him gay." "You know, Linda," her mother continued, still in that same calm, gentle voice. "If you want to...play with yourself, and have someone watch. Well, there's two of us here."
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By Alana Church
Artwork by Moira Nelligar
Copyright 2018 Alana Church
~~ All characters in this book are over 18. ~~
It was a spectacular orgasm.
Ronnie muffled a scream into her forearm as her well-endowed son plowed her from behind. Her entire body quaked with the force of her release, the fingers of one hand dancing across her clit as she ground her pubis down into her palm.
Above her, Max paused, his wonderful cock half-in, half-out of her throbbing cleft. “Mom? Are you all right?”
In answer, she turned her head and smiled up at him. A surge of smug pride struck her as she saw his eyes widen. She could just imagine what she looked like; heavy-lidded, horny, and replete with sexual satisfaction. Tugging at his hand, she pulled him down so she could kiss him, while at the same time she used the muscles of her inner core to caress his steely-hard shaft.
“I’m fine. More than fine,” she murmured throatily as their lips parted. “You’re getting better and better at making me cum.”
He grinned down at her. “It’s not too hard. These days, you’re always ready to go. I’ve never been with a woman who liked sex as much as you.”
“Not too hard?” she giggled, raising and lowering her hips, which had the delicious result of making Max’s rock-hard dick slide in and out of her cum-slickened pussy. “Doesn’t feel like that to me!”
“God, you’re incredible,” he said, kissing the back of her neck. The feeling made her body break out in goosebumps as he licked her skin. Bracing himself on his elbows, he began to pump into her again. “My slutty bimbo mom,” he whispered in her ear, driving her body down into the mattress with the force of his thrusts. “Do you like that? Do you like fucking your own son, Mommy?”
“Yes,” she groaned. “I’m your bimbo mother and I love fucking my gorgeous son. Jesus, I love your cock, Max. you make me feel so fucking good!” What had started out as a customary doggie-style position had devolved into her lying flat on the bed, her legs spread lewdly wide for her son. As Max’s groin hit her rear with heavy, hard slaps, she canted her hips up, the only part of her body which wasn’t flat on the bed. In her minds eye, she pictured the tableau they made – the young high-school student furiously fucking his mother, the ice-cold corporate executive, his cock splitting her cleft like a ripe peach.
Two weeks ago, she could have never imagined such a thing happening. But that was before the Bimbo Pill had come into their lives.
It had been an accident. But a happy one. Ronnie closed her eyes, moaning, as Max’s hand slid between her chest and the bedsheets, palming her breast. He caught her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pinching gently, sending a spike of pleasure deep into her horny cunt.
Mentothal had been meant to aid police departments and law-enforcement agencies during the interrogation of suspected criminals. It made the recipient almost completely unable to lie or to foresee the long-term consequences of their actions. It had been her idea, and she had poured year of her life into it.
When the Mentothal project had been put on hold by the Department of Justice because of concerns regarding potential civil rights issues, Veronica Melton, head of Research and Development for Biodyne Industries, one of the leading pharmaceutical companies in the country, had been absolutely livid. It was only when her son, Max, had suggested that it might be useful for therapeutic purposes for people who were undergoing counseling for trauma that she had calmed down.
Then, one February morning a few weeks ago, wanting to see first-hand the effects of Mentothal before she committed herself yet again to the interminable review and approval process by the Food and Drug Administration, she had violated every professional precept and taken a dose of Mentothal herself.
The result had been beyond anything she or her son could have possibly imagined. With her inner safeguards down, unable to see the long-term consequences of her actions, she had admitted to her own son the depths of her desperate sexual need, stunted by years of an unloving marriage to Max’s father, who had divorced her years ago. Living in the present, with no thought for the future, her alter ego, who she had named Ronnie, had seduced Max with the sort of merry disregard for the future which she had known when she was a carefree teenager. And her own son, it must be said, didn’t seem terribly distraught about screwing his sexy-as-fuck mother into a series of well-earned orgasms.
And then the pill wore off.
Veronica had been horrified by her actions. What sort of woman seduced and had sex with her own offspring? But, as the prospect of being forced to re-enter her life of unwilling celibacy made itself appallingly real, she had surrendered to temptation, and had taken the pill again.
It had been like stepping out of Dorothy’s sepia-toned Kansas and into the Wonderful World of Oz. Over a dingy gray period of nearly twenty years, Veronica had forgotten just how much fucking fun sex could be. Ronnie, however, had never forgotten it. Sex was awesome. Especially when her partner was as enthusiastic as Max. Her son was careful, kind, and considerate. But he was also handsome, strong, virile, willing to fuck two or three times in a single night, and, when the mood struck him, had an interestingly kinky edge. A penchant for dirty talk was uppermost, but he had confessed, with the cutest little blush, that he fantasized about having his way with some helpless girl. About tying her up and taking her, despite how much she thrashed and moaned in protest.
As the fog of lust had drifted away from her one night, a chance remark by Max had made her see the true potential in Mentothal. Veronica had clawed her way back to the surface, and a long, caffeine-fueled night of work had led to a presentation to the board of Biodyne, convincing them that they had their hands on ‘female Viagra,’ if they were smart enough to take advantage of it.
With her funding secured, Veronica and Max had fallen into an exceptionally rewarding pattern. She took a dose of Mentothal every evening on her way home from work. By the time she arrived home, Ronnie had taken control, and the slutty bimbo was met at the door by her son. They spent the next few hours fucking in every position imaginable. By the time they were worn out, it was time for supper and Veronica had taken control again. After they ate, Max did his homework, and then they made love once more before going to bed.
She suspected that she didn’t really need either Mentothal or Ronnie anymore. Her barriers had not just been broken down, but thoroughly trampled, like breastworks which had been blown apart by the artillery of an invading army. But she could not abandon the wonderful feeling as her waking mind slid away, subsumed by the panting, horny need for sex with her son. With Ronnie, there was no future. There was only the now.
And now, in this case, consisted of Max plunging his rod into her pussy over and over again while his tender lips dropped kisses on every piece of her skin he could reach. For her part, she encouraged him to cum, squeezing his shaft on every downstroke, milking his cock, waiting for that exquisite moment when she felt him fill her with his liquid warmth.
There! Max stiffened above her, every muscle tensing, and she felt it, his cock spurting his essence deep inside her. She had laid down that rule on that very first weekend. No condoms. Not where they were concerned. She had been on birth control for years, until the habit of taking her pill every morning was as ingrained in her as brushing her teeth had been when she was nine. She wanted to feel skin on skin, not the dull sensation of latex, robbing the moment when her son came of its wonderfully sexy intimacy.
Slowly, he sank down on her, his groin pushing her deeper into the mattress in her bedroom. But, at this point, it would have been fairer to say that it was their bedroom. It had been days since she had slept in one bedroom and her son in another.
“Thanks, Mom,” he said softly. “That was great.”
“You’re welcome, sweetie,” she said with a happy smile. “Nothing like a good fuck after work to relax.”
She wiggled her bottom hintingly, and Max obliged by rolling off her, coming to a rest on his side. She pulled in close to her son, hooking one leg over his, and reaching down between their bodies to fondle his slowly softening cock.
“I love you,” he said softly. His dark eyes gleamed in the dim light of her bedroom. Outside, the sun had set, and a chilly murk had fallen across the Minnesota landscape.
“I love you, too.” She pulled him closer, loving the feel of his strong young body against hers. His chest was firm and strong against her breasts. God, he made her so horny! And he made her feel young, too. In his arms, she wasn’t on the wrong side of forty. She could forget the lies that her driver’s license told her, or the occasional aches in her body on cold winter mornings. She had missed this so much, missed it until she had walled off that part of her that hungered for the touch of a man. Alone for years following her divorce, she felt as if she were rediscovering a long-lost country.
She traced patterns on his chest with one finger. “One more day of school. Then spring break, right?”
Max nodded. “Any plans?” she asked.
He smiled at her, and despite her recent climax, she could feel a renewed flood of arousal, brought on by his boyish good cheer, reminding her of the high school boys she had seduced in her youth. “I was hoping you might feel like taking a couple of days off,” he said with a cheerful leer. His hand wandered down to her bottom, giving it a loving squeeze, while his eyes dropped to her breasts in open appreciation. “The weekends aren’t ever long enough, you know?”
“Hmmm.” The prospect appealed to her. And why not? Days and days of sex with her young lover sounded great. The fact that Max was her son, and that people might not approve of their relationship, had ceased to have any meaning.
If, indeed, it ever had.
Her words were cut off as her cell phone, lying discarded on her bedside table, rang abruptly.
“It’s Linda!” she exclaimed happily as she looked at the screen. “Hello, sweetheart,” she said. “How are you?”
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