Satyrday Nights

Instead, his hands flattened and he ran them up her back as he turned his face to hers and caught her mouth in a blazing, white-hot kiss. His lips, soft and firm at the same time, opened under hers, and for the first time she felt the tentative touch of his tongue as it shyly invaded her mouth.

She buried her hands in his hair, whimpering, her voice muffled as together they explored this virgin territory. Her hips rocked, slowly, steadily, yearning towards his thick hard heat, her breasts flattening against his chest as she tried to mold her body to his, Blessed Mother, to crawl inside him if that was possible. She pulled her hands into the space between their bodies and unbuttoned his shirt, tearing her mouth away from his, leaning down to plant kisses as she exposed the skin of his chest, several shades lighter than hers.

Growling impatiently, she yanked the tails of his shirt out of his pants, spreading the wings of the garment wide so she could rub her loving hands on his pecs, leaning in so her cheek stroked his. She looked down and was delighted to see a dark spot staining the front of his slacks.

"Mmmmm," she said. "Did I make you do that, Owen? Did Mama make your cock nice and hard? So hard that juice is leaking out?" she leaned in and rubbed her tits on his chest.

"God yes," he groaned in reply. "My cock is so hard for you, Mama. I need you so bad."

She raised her hands above her head, making her tits rise invitingly. Needing no other persuasion, he leaned down and caught a turgid bud between his lips, suckling hard.

"Madre de Dios!" she gasped. His lips felt like fire! The muscles of her womb clenched and spasmed, and she let her head fall back, her hair falling like black rain to her son's knees. His other hand came up and kneaded her breast, squeezing hard, as his lips pulled at her taut nipple. Her hips bucked, stuttering forward, and the chair rocked in place, threatening to tip over.

Panting, Owen pulled his head away from her chest, eyes foggy with desire.

"No, dammit. I'm not doing this again."

Before Isabel could speak a word, his hands slid around her, cupping her buttocks. Effortlessly he rose to his feet, cradling her in his strong hands. Laughing happily, she wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her first into the living room, then down the hall into her bedroom.

He relaxed his arms, and she slid slowly down his body until she was standing in front of him, so close that a sheet of paper could not have been slipped between their heaving chests. His eyes on hers, Owen knelt, and eased her rumpled dress down her legs until it puddled at her feet on the floor.

"Mama, are you sure you want this?" His voice was low but firm, the earlier panic burnt away. He kissed the brown skin of her belly, and she sighed contentedly.

"I have never been more sure of anything in my life, mi vida. Take me. Make me your woman." She crawled onto the bed and braced herself on her forearms, her back to him, looking over her shoulder, her glorious hair spreading in a fan over her back. Her legs spread wide, showing him the treasure of her pussy, her pouting lips slick with moisture.

He shook his head. "No. Not like that. Not the first time we make love." He gently pushed her to her side, then to her back. "I want to see your face, Mama. To see what you look like when I make you mine." He kicked off his loafers and peeled his socks off. As he pulled down his pants her breath caught in her throat in a mixture of pride and desire.

I made that! He was created inside my own body. And now he is mine. My son, my true desire, my lover. Thank you. Thank you. A thousand times, thank you. A tear trickled down her cheek.

"Sad, Mama?" Owen asked, his voice concerned.

"Just the opposite, my son. Happy. So happy I think my heart will burst with it." She reached out her hand and drew him down to the bed with her.

They kissed again, softer now, softly exploring the ways to give the other pleasure. Isabel discovered to her happy surprise that she could make Owen sigh rapturously by breathing into his ear, and a curl of her tongue around his earlobe sent him tumbling to the bed, eyes glazed happily, while Owen found that his mother rejoiced in the feel of his hands on her ass, shivering as he stroked her taut curves.

She turned onto her stomach, stretching languorously, as he kissed his way up her back, his rock-hard cock nestled in the crack of her ass. His agile fingers teased her sides, lightly tickling, then crept around her front. As they cupped her breasts, she raised up, then sank down, trapping them between her hot flesh and the bed. He squeezed gently, then bent down and kissed her neck as she raised the hard curves of her rear off the bed, her buttocks clenching, grabbing his rod in a strong grip. He laughed softly, sensing her need, then slid forward, the lubrication of his secretions making her cleft a slippery tunnel.

This is what I was made for, she thought, thoroughly content. All her worries and fears had disappeared, burned away in the fire of love. She closed her eyes, reveling in the feel of his body on hers, the molten churn of desire in her belly, the soon-to-be-filled need in her core.

Needing more, she shifted to her back, drawing him down with her, her hands on his shoulders pulling him closer. Her hand closed around his rigid phallus and she smiled, stroking it, laughing softly as he groaned. Her thumb rubbed the head, smearing his secretions, making it ready to enter her. His mouth sought hers again, his hands busy on her breasts, fingers working her nipples.

She gasped out loud as she felt his hand wander lower. Past her breasts, past the shaking muscles of her stomach, past the rise of her pubis, down to her soaking sheath. His eyes asked permission, and she nodded eagerly as a long finger reached the gates of her sex. Stroking softly, it slipped inside her channel, eagerly exploring as the heel of his hand pressed down on her mons, making her rise up to grind her pelvis into his strong grip. Inside her, his first finger was joined by another, and they stroked the slippery flesh of her love-tunnel, then curled up within her, making her keen as they pleasured her sensitive g-spot.

Tears leaking from the corners of her eyes, hot, sweating and urgent with need, she raised her knees and spread her legs, grabbing his wrist and pulling him up to her.

"Owen, darling. It is time. Take me. I am yours."

He looked deep into her eyes. For a moment she thought he would protest, say some word, but instead he nodded. He slid down the bed, and she puffed out a breath of irritation. She wanted him inside her! Why was he moving away? But instead he planted a series of kisses, feather-light, on the insides of her thighs, making her ache with longing. She canted her mound forward, inviting his mouth, hoping he would choose to pleasure her with his tongue, but instead he moved back up the bed and braced himself on his elbows above her, letting his hips drop down until his mighty cock nestled itself in her damp folds, pressing into her all along its fiery length. Her thighs rose to cradle him, and her hand grasped him firmly, aiming him at her opening.

"Yes, my love," she breathed. "Do it."

He bent his head to hers and kissed her deep, his sweet tongue tracing the curves of her lips. At the same time his hips pushed forward, and his wonderful, blessed cock entered her, filling her, until her back arched in rapture, her breasts filling his eager hands, her ankles coming around to hook themselves behind his thighs, pulling him in.

At last he was done, the damp hair of his groin scraping against the sensitive flesh of her mound. Together, they looked down between their bodies, to where they joined, becoming one. Owen gazed at his mother in awe, unable to believe his good fortune.

"Mama, I..." he was halted by her hand on his lips. She smiled at him lovingly.

"I know darling. I know. It is the same for me.

"But now," she said, her voice low and fierce with want. "I need you to fuck me. It has been too long for me, Owen. Fuck me now!"

Owen swallowed and nodded. Slowly at first, then with growing confidence, he withdrew, then plunged back into his mother's body.

Santa Maria! Isabel shuddered with pleasure as his rod filled her, again and again. Her hips undulated under him, the skin of her buttocks and shoulders luxuriating in the feel of clean warm cotton. Above her, the silk-smooth feel of her son's flesh, pressing her down, oh so gently, his hands stroking her flanks, her arms, her breasts. She hooked her hands behind his shoulders and pulled his face down to hers, mouth open wide, her tongue trying to return the joy to him that he was giving her.

Oh, this was better. Better than it had ever been with her Gary. Owen's body was stronger, leaner. His beautiful cock longer and thicker. His hands, more gentle and clever. Even now his fingers were playing with her nipples and he bent his head suddenly to capture one in his hot mouth, his tongue lashing the tip until she was shaking with pleasure. He drew his tongue up in a long sure stroke to her throat, then suckled gently, licking salty sweat from her skin, braced on an arm to keep from crushing her.

She felt her climax coming to her. The muscles in her belly and her womb tightened, tautened, tensed. She pulled her son's head away from her throat, meeting his confused eyes.

"Mama?" he asked.

"I'm close now, darling," she panted, feeling the muscles start to ripple, "So close. I want you to see me. To see me when I...watch me when I...when I when I come oh God I'm coming for you Owen, Mama's coming for you!" She threw her head back, spine arching, hips thrashing wildly under her son and then oh God then he squeezed her hot breasts in her hands and pulled on her nipples, extending her orgasm beyond anything she thought possible and he was still thrusting into her with his sweet hard cock, until his face grew soft and distant, his eyes losing focus.

Swift as thought, she brought her hands up and cradled his face, bringing his attention back to her.

"It's all right, mi tesoro, mi corazon, my sweet lover. Come for me. Come for Mama."

She cupped her breasts in her hands and cast her legs out wide, watching with joy in her heart as her son's shaft thrust itself again and again into her waiting cleft. He slowed his strokes, seeking to draw out their length. Inside her, she felt a shift, a sudden growth in his phallus, then a beautiful warmth deep within her as he came, his cock throbbing, sending a last heavenly burst of pleasure through her body.

****

Arms shaking, he lowered himself until they were lying side by side. She stroked sweaty hair back from his forehead and she curled into his arms, head pillowed on his chest, one leg draped over one of his. She cradled his cock as it slipped out of her body, smeared and sticky from their mingling, then wiped her hand on her belly, evidence of their joining. She met his eyes as they widened.

"Jesus, Mama, I didn't know..."

"Didn't know what?" she asked, teasing. "That your poor old mama was a wildcat in the bedroom? Didn't know that she ached for a strong man? Didn't know that she likes to get nasty every once in a while?"

"All of the above, I guess," he said with a weak smile. "You know I didn't mean for this to happen, don't you?"

"Yes," she said agreeably. "I meant for this to happen, mi vida. Ever since last night on the car. It was as if a switch was turned on in my head. I wondered why I was letting my life slip away. Letting you slip away. I knew, suddenly knew, that this might be my last chance to be happy, and I had to grab it. And I did," she said, with a playful slap at his cock. "And you have made me very happy indeed," she purred as he flinched. "And will make me happy again before the night is over.

"So how long," Owen paused, then forged ahead. "How long have you wanted me?"

"Long enough," Isabel said. "You are a good man, Owen. A very good man. You care for me, and Samara. And you sacrificed your life so that we could stay together." She kissed him lovingly. "But I will make it up to you, I swear it.

"Now. When did you know you wanted me?"

"Last night. In bed. I was thinking about you."

"Owen!" she cried laughing. "You wicked boy! Lusting after your own Mama?"

"You asked," Owen shrugged, a gleam in his eye. "When we were talking, you had pulled out your shirt and I could see your panties..."

"You looked!" Isabel said happily. "I knew you did! It made me wet just to think about it."

"I could feel your breast against my shoulder. And I wondered what you would taste like, if I kissed you. Down there."

"You'll get your chance before long," Isabel said, her voice low and warm with passion. She stood suddenly. "Close your eyes, mi vida. I am going to give you a surprise."

"You already have," Owen objected.

"Ha. You think you are funny. Close them, I said."

"Yes, Mama," he said meekly. Isabel checked, frowning suspiciously, then bounced happily over to her bureau.

"When can I open them?" he asked, when a few minutes had passed, and the only sound had been the faint whisper of cloth on skin.

"When I say so, mi corazon," he heard. The bed dipped under her weight, and a hot wet warmth enveloped the head of his cock. There was a faint pop, a rush of cool air on his wet dick, then he heard her voice. "You can open your eyes now, darling."

Holy shit.

She was dressed in white lace from head to toe. Sheer white stockings, startlingly bright against her dark skin, ran from her feet to her trim thighs. There, they were fastened to a garter belt, thick with elegant designs, boldly framing the petals of her sex. From there, her warm brown skin rose up to her breasts, which were cupped and held by a shelf bra, which lifted her beautiful tits but left her thick nipples pleasantly exposed.

He swallowed, mouth dry. "Mama, you are so beautiful you make my eyes blur. But why did you get dressed up?"

She smiled at him. "Your papa bought this for me, several years ago when we had a little money. I only got to wear it for him a few times. But a woman needs to feel beautiful. And also," she said happily, "think how much fun it will be to take it off!"

He laughed out loud. "Absolutely," he grinned. "Come back up here and we can start!"

At that moment they heard the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. Panicking, Owen sat up, eyes wide. "Christ, I've got to get out of here! Sam's home."

Isabel pushed him back down. "Stop being silly. Samara is perfectly sensible. I will go out and explain things to her."

She paused at the door and pointed a commanding finger at him. "Stay there," she said sternly.

"Yes, ma'am," he said, and sank back into bed, defeated.

Hips swaying in a sexy strut, she sauntered from the room.

****

Samara closed the door and let her shoulder bag fall to the floor, sighing with relief.

Finally.

The familiar scents rose around her as she breathed in deeply. Vacas fritas steamed gently on the kitchen table and she wandered over to pick a piece of meat out of the skillet, her eyes closing in rapture as she tasted home cooking for the first time in weeks.

"Hello! I'm home!" she called, frowning slightly. Where were her mama and Owen? She had seen their cars in the driveway; Mama's old Datsun and Owen's slightly newer Pontiac. She wandered into the living room, but no one was there and the TV was turned off. She went back into the kitchen and pulled a can of diet soda out of the fridge.

Hearing soft footsteps behind her, she turned around, ready to greet her mother.

Then she saw her, and the words died on her lips.

Her mother, her own sweet mama, came to her dressed like a lingerie model, looking like she had just taken part in an orgy. White lace stockings, garter belt, and a...God, is that a shelf bra? It held up Isabel's large breasts while leaving her dark brown nipples open to view, wantonly visible.

Her hair was tousled, falling carelessly down her back. Her lips were full and swollen, as if she had been kissing someone. Kissing someone hard from the cheerful look in her eyes. Unwilling, her gaze dropped down her mother's sweat-streaked body, past the garter belt, to her groin. Her nether lips were full and pouty, and she could see the nub of her clitoris peeping from under its hood. Even as she watched, a slow trickle of liquid escaped her mother's pussy and leaked lewdly down her thigh.

Good God, is that come? Is Mama fucking someone? Does Owen know? Where the hell is he?

Face flaming, she lifted her eyes. "Hello, Mama. I called a little bit ago, but you didn't answer."

"Did you?" Isabel replied, smiling. "I'm sorry, mi vida. I didn't hear it. I was busy."

"Christ, it looks like you were," Samara swore. "What the hell, Mama? If you and some guy were getting busy in the bedroom, you could have stayed there. And where the heck is Owen? I thought we were all going to have a meal together, or at least spend some time together tonight. Did he go off with some friends while you had a nice dinner with your new boyfriend? You should have told me." She shook her head in confusion.

"I'm sorry, darling. It all happened so suddenly, I didn't have time to warn you." Isabel said. She came forward and folded Samara into her arms. She returned the embrace warmly, feeling her mother's hands slip under her shirt and stroke her back. With a start of surprise, she felt the clasp of her bra come undone.

With a wicked grin, Isabel spun Samara's bra in her hand, then flipped it onto the table, luckily avoiding the food. Sam's mouth opened wide, trying to frame an appropriate reaction, but was cut off as Isabel sat in a chair and leaned back comfortably.

"Stupid to wear a bra in this heat, mi tesora. So much more comfortable to let your titties hang free. And when they are big and beautiful like yours, why not show them off? So did you finally escape the policia?"

Sam nodded. It was stupid to wear a bra right now. Who was going to see her? And whose business was it anyway? She took a deep breath, inhaling the smell of good food and her mother's musk.

And something underneath, dark and heady, like strong red wine.

"Finally," she grumbled. "I sat in that damn line for over an hour, waiting to be let through. And just when I got to the front the police all took off like a flock of chickens. Turns out the scumbag they had been looking for got himself stabbed to death when he tried to set a house on fire over on the north side. I heard it on the radio just before I pulled in." She pulled out a chair and sat down beside her mother.

"Looks like you were bored," Isabel said wickedly. "I can smell girl-come on your panties. How many times did you finger your hot little pussy, Samara?"

Before she could stop herself, Sam found herself giggling and answered. "Only once. I wanted to do it again, but I was getting close to the head of the line, and I didn't want the cops to see me."

Isabel nodded. "You have the fire in your blood, just like me. It had been so long since I was with a man, Samara, but I am so happy now.

"But you, my heart. I bet you are horny right now, aren't you? So horny. You want a man who can give you a nice hard fucking."

She watched, entranced, as her words began to weave a spell around her daughter. Samara's hips rocked forward, the denim of her cut-offs slowly being ground into the eager cleft of her pussy.

"Yes, Mama," she breathed. "I am. My stupid boyfriend wouldn't fuck me this morning, and I need a good fucking. Need a cock in my pussy. Need to come." She blinked and tried to focus her eyes.