Her Mothers Pussy Part 1

Her Mothers Pussy Part 1



James was floating happily off to town to purchase supplies. I hope I didn't fuck him so well he can't drive, Rose thought to herself with a smirk, the young man's white thick cream still leaking from her. James didn't get off to a early a start as Rose had intended, but it was her own fault. When she came back to the bedroom with breakfast for them, she had made love to him until far into the night and decided he deserved the extra rest – he had just looked too good there in her bed, his hard young body exhausted after a night of pleasuring her. She couldn't pass him up. Breakfast grew cold while she awakened him, first tasting herself on his cock, and then making love to him again, riding him, doing all the work, letting the release of his seed into her warm depths and her soft words send him back to a dreamy sleep for another hour as she cuddled with him, holding his soft cock in her drenched and temporarily sated pussy.

Showering with him later on had been another mistake of getting James on his way quickly was her object. But anyone hearing Rose's cries as James cupped her large soapy breasts and took his older lover vigorously from behind would be persuaded that his speedy departure was not Rose's primary intent. And letting James help her put on her stockings had been nice, although it did contribute to more delay. His firm hands on her thighs made her so wet, she could hardly deny her pussy to his hungry lips and lapping tongue. And when, after several orgasms, she wanted him in her again, well, she could hardly call that an error.

After James at last left, Rose strolled down to the mailbox almost a quarter mile from the house, confident that no one would see her buxom form, wearing only a thin housecoat and the satisfied grin of a well-fucked woman. She was feeding regularly now and the sex had never been better. Feeling on top of the world, she was back at the house now, mellow from sex and sipping her Irish coffee at the dining table as she opened her morning mail. Bills and such she put aside for James.

The envelope with a gothic script caught her eye. Mother! Rose chuckled to herself. For all of making herself out to be a modern woman, a middle-aged playgirl, Mother had never caught on to email and didn't really like the telephone, either. Although she lived only 60 miles away in downtown Washington Rose and her mother, communicated almost exclusively by old fashioned letter. Rose opened it eagerly, since it was the first she had received since hesitantly telling her mother about James.

Dearest Rose,

Please forgive me for not having written sooner. To tell the truth, I have delayed writing because I know you will not be happy with what I have to say. I have received all your letters about this new man in your life, "James." He certainly sounds like a fine physical specimen and I congratulate you on having obtained him, even if your story of his capture, as you put it, did sound like a B movie script. I suspect you may be romanticizing even then. Neither can I fault you for having decided on keeping him, given your decision, which I do not understand, to live in that remote backwater. [Come on, Mother, Rose thought, 15 miles in the hills above Winchester in the Washington exurbia is hardly the end of the earth!] It certainly cannot be a good place to meet men. True, but now, happily, the least of my concerns, Rose sighed.

What I do not understand, and cannot approve of, is this romantic attachment that you claim to feel for this young man. "In love" you say? Darling, you have been reading too many Harlequin Romances. Our kind does not love men. We NEED men to Feed on and of course we enjoy them for the sex. Naturally, you will want to take a certain amount of care of this male since you intend to continue using him for some time, but falling in love with a mortal man is just ridiculous!

I blushed in shame for you when I read:

I spiraled upward as his tongue brought me closer and closer to orgasm. The fire in my loins consumed me and when I exploded. I fell, not downward to Earth, but was upward, buoyed through a crystalline dome as ecstasy overcame me

Honey you had an apparently very well-trained this young man between your legs. That's what men do; they get us off. You came! What's love got to do with it?

I am sorry to say you are still acting like an adolescent, and a foolish one. This Charles that you kept before was another such mistake. I know you claimed he could satisfy you even in his 50's, but that's just silly. The ideal lover/prey is an experienced nineteen-year old, although I admit that's a bit of a contradiction. I've found the best combination of carnal skill and physical stamina is the mid twenties, like your James. By all means enjoy this male for a while, if he's as good as you say, but please stop talking nonsense about making him yours for life.

I do, however, have some more pleasant reasons for not having written; I've been busy, too; you may guess how. Rose rolled her eyes. You know I bought this new condo down around 8th and F. It's close to the Metro, shops, and restaurants; it has a great view of the Capitol and is just steps away from the National Gallery. What I didn't realize is how close it is to the Capitol Center where the Wizards play. I have never been one to watch competitive athletic events rather resenting the time men nowadays would spend watching television instead of attending to my carnal needs, if I would allow it.

Still, I was in a neighborhood bar a few weeks ago feeling both horny and in need of a Feeding. I attracted a hunky young man, intending to take him straight back to my apartment for a midnight snack of both kinds, but he had tickets to a basketball game at the Capitol Center and asked me to go with him. I could have made him forget everything, but on a lark I agreed. I thought it would be fun to let this twenty-year old stud walk in with a forty-something -- for all he knew -- woman on his arm.

I had on a short, tight red skirt, stockings and heels, a little trashy for a woman of my age and build, but you know what I was in the bar for. Of course our breasts have always been our biggest assets and I was showing off mine in a flimsy blouse. Believe me; I made sure the men in our immediate vicinity paid a lot more attention to your mother than to the game. I could sense their thoughts about this hot old bitch with no panties. Their lust was so exciting I was tempted to take my stud back to the apartment immediately, but Rose, those basketball players! I had never seen such males! So tall, so graceful, so BLACK! I was dripping.

You know, growing up back in Rome, I never saw many black men, just an Ethiopian slave now and then. All my girlfriends were into fucking gladiators, and it was nice to sample studs from all over the empire, even if they never performed very well, in the ring after a night with me. But all my girlish fantasies were focused on Gaul’s. Ah, honey, if you've never been carried off by a band of marauding Gaul’s, taken back to their dirty little Breton village, and ravished for weeks and weeks by a whole tribe of smelly, virile barbarians, you don't know what sex IS! I can still remember the big one; Obis, I think his name was. And they had some kind of "magic potion" that let them keep fucking me nonstop, over and over. The little one with the big mustache was the best. He was the only one who knew how to eat pussy. I was almost sorry to be rescued by the Roman army, except – well, you know how many men make up a Legion ... but I digress.

I had to meet these men. I dumped the guy from the bar and made my way to the dressing room after the game. You wouldn't believe the number of women, tall and short, busty and flat, blondes, redheads, Latinas and Asians all trying to get close to these dark gods of masculinity. The aroma of several hundred aroused pussies was overpowering. When Jesse, the team captain emerged, I looked him straight in the eye. He started, flared his nostrils, and pushed his way straight toward me. I let him give me a sizzling kiss as he took me in his arms. I was the envy of scores of disappointed women as I walked away with the prize -- Jesse's arm tight around my waist, his hand already squeezing my ass. His teammates, on the other hand, looked worried by the slightly vacant look on Jesse's face.

Let me tell you, honey, this Jesse is big in EVERY way. I make no racial generalizations. Probably white basketball players who are 6'11" and weight 230 pounds have enormous cocks, too. Maybe someday I'll do a careful comparison. Right now I'm too busy enjoying having this black giant and his teammates fuck me silly every night they're in town. Teammates well, of course. When I found he alone could not satisfy me, I brought in reinforcements.

I quickly learned not to feed, even a little, during these sessions, having caused the team a couple of disastrous – interesting word blowouts. They just come over and take turns going at me; pulling a train I think they call it. Too-Toowoon! Even so there was still a fly in this ointment. The Wizards coach does not believe it's good for players to have sex for 48 hours before a game even with their ordinary wives and girlfriends. Having sent five large men staggering out of my apartment with silly grins on their faces after a night of fun with me, I can see his point.



By nutbuster

To be continued