Deep Crotch Mother – Chapter 2

“So you see how the Lord constantly takes care of us?” Marcella said to her children
as she walked nearly naked across the guest room that they occupied in the Wilcox
farmhouse. “We had no money, and no place to go, but the Lord directed this nice
man to take us in.”

Timmy and Beth were already snuggled into bed, and they gazed at their mother
who strutted before them in her stockings, garters, and pink pants. The lad’s small
cock was stiff as he stared at his mother’s bare titties. Perfect plump orbs they were,
bulging with bouncy firmness, their rosy nipples cocked.

Timmy wriggled beneath the covers, and his sister gave him an inquisitive look. That
funny thing, which she had noticed a few times, was happening to him again, she
suspected. It seemed to happen when he looked at his mother, or at her, without
their clothes on.

Beth wondered what it was all about when her twin brother’s pee-pee stuck straight
up against his belly, exposing the small sac that hung at its base. She wondered
what was in that sac and why boys needed such a thing. Of course, Timmy’s peepee
was to pee with, but she couldn’t figure out why it sometimes stood up, stiff as a
stick. Their mother always noticed when it did that, too, and she made little remarks
about the Lord’s power and patted Timmy on the head.

Mama certainly has a big behind! young Beth thought as she watched her mother
standing before the dresser mirror, wiping off the small amount of lipstick that she
wore.

Marcella’s ass, while undeniably large, was nonetheless firm and shapely. Her
panties were stretched to near bursting, the pink nylon drawn taut and thin around
her lush buttocks. The lower portions of the pale hemispheres had escaped from her
panty elastics.

Her thighs, above her stockings, were wide, promising a warm saddle for a man to
sink into. But her children didn’t think anything about that, because they didn’t know
about such things. Never having gone to public school or had any friends of their
own age, because they were constantly with their mother and had spent their entire
lives moving from place to place, they knew only what she had taught them.
She turned to face them, stretched the waist elastic of her panties, and stripped the
pink silken undergarment down, exposing her dark-brown, glossy muff.

Beth studied it with interest. Her mother had explained, in response to her question
some time ago, that Beth herself would have hair down there when she got older.
But she didn’t know if she really wanted to have any or not. It seemed kind of
strange. Her mother had said that Timmy would have hair around his pee-pee, too.
Marcella bent forward, letting her breasts swoop and hang down while she
ungartered her stockings. Beth knew, from the commercials on television and ads in
the paper, that most women wore something called “pantyhose”, which came all the
way up their legs and around their hips, in one piece. She had asked her mother why
she didn’t wear pantyhose, and the answer had been the same as her mother’s
answer to many other things: Because the Lord wouldn’t like it.

Beth couldn’t quite figure out why the Lord cared what a woman wore underneath
her skirt. But it seemed that He cared about lots of things-and what He wanted was
what Beth’s mother did.

Young Timmy had his own thoughts as he watched his pretty mama, bent forward,
unfastening the garters from her stockings. As she turned slightly to reach the
different snaps, and as she moved her arms, her dangling, full breasts quivered.
That made Timmy think about what a thrill it was when she lay in bed beside him and
pressed those soft, smooth things against his face.

Sucking his mama’s titties gave him more pleasure than anything else in the world.
Marcella peeled her stockings down and off, hopping from one foot to the other, her
breasts bouncing. Then she took her garter belt away.

She turned off the lamp, opened the window drapes to let some fresh air and
moonlight into the room, and walked to the bed. She climbed in next to Timmy, as
always, so that the lad was sandwiched between her and his twin sister.
The three of them had to lie very close to one another, since the bed had been
designed for only two persons. Timmy faced his mother, who faced him, and Beth
cuddled up to her brother’s back.

“Isn’t it wonderful,” Marcella said, “to have a nice soft bed to lie down in? We must
thank the Lord for providing it.”

They never went through the ritual of kneeling to pray before they went to bed,
because their religion taught that they should constantly express their gratitude for
God’s blessing, no matter where they were or what they were doing. And they should
never ask for things. The Lord would guide and provide in His own way, and they
had only to read the signs He gave them.

Timmy was grateful at that moment for the warm, soft breasts which were pressed
against him. His childish hand took hold of one of the satiny masses and pulled its
jutting rosy tip to his lips.

“Yes, darling … “ Marcella purred, petting her son’s head. “Suck Mama’s titty like a
nice boy.”

His moist mouth surrounded his mother’s plump nipple and drew at it. He got no
tangible sustenance, of course, but he enjoyed sucking on it just the same. Marcella
squirmed, vibrating her breastflesh against his lips, obviously enjoying it, also.
Looking over her brother’s shoulder, Beth watched what he was doing, and she
asked, as she had asked before, “Why can’t I suck your titties, Mama?”
She got the same answer as always: “Because the Lord doesn’t like big girls to do
that.”

This was something else that Beth didn’t understand. If it was good for a boy to suck
his mama’s titties, why wasn’t it all right for a girl?

Marcella drew her moist nipple from Timmy’s eager mouth and stuffed her dry one
in. She shut her eyes and squirmed voluptuously.

Her hand stole down underneath the bedclothes and found her young son’s cock,
which was sticking out the front of his jammies. How stiff his little pecker was! It stuck
up much higher than a man’s .

Timmy sucked all the harder at his mother’s big, rubbery nipple as she rolled his
foreskin up and down across the ridge of his cock. He loved it when she did that.
Marcella worked her other hand between her own wide thighs, and she glided her
middle finger between the already-lathered lips of her cunt. She sawed her finger in
and out, across the throbbing tip of her clitty, while her son sucked and pawed at her
breasts with unashamed ardor.

Beth rolled over and faced the other way, tired of watching her mother and brother
having fun with each other while she was left out in the cold. She couldn’t help
feeling resentful. She felt kind of funny down between her legs, but also being tired it
wasn’t long before she dropped off to sleep.

Her mother and brother didn’t notice. They were too engrossed with each other, she
slowly rolling and unrolling his snugly elastic foreskin along his stubby, slender stalk
while he sucked at her breasts as if he were an infant once again. He champed
noisily, tugging at and stretching first one of her plump, lengthy nipples and then the
other. His eyes were shut in rapture.

Marcella lazily pumped two fingers in and out of her lathered cunt, not wanting to
rush to a climax but striving to keep the good sensations going.
She murmured to her son, “What a beautiful, loving boy you are! You like to suck
Mama’s titties, don’t you? And Mama likes it, too. It’s what you are supposed to do,
darling. It’s part of the Lord’s plan.

“Mmmmmm! Your little cock seems to be getting bigger every day. Soon it’ll start
getting hair around it, and then Mama won’t be able to pet you like this any more. It
wouldn’t be right.”

“Oooooh, Mama, never stop playing with my pecker!” Timmy begged as he pulled his
mouth from the big rosy nipple he’d been sucking. He stared at the wetly gleaming
stem of champable, suckable flesh, with the hairline slit at the end of it. The stem
was surrounded by a firm and pebbly disk as rosy as the jutting part of the nipple.
“When you get a little older,” Marcella purred, ‘You’ll find a loving girl who will play
with your pecker for you. She’ll let you put it into her body, too, and pump it in and
out until something really wonderful happens. But you’re too young for that now, and
you could never do it with your Mama, anyway, because it would be a sin.”
Timmy didn’t argue. He accepted his mother’s word about everything. And he was
happy just to cap his eager mouth around her nipple once again and resume sucking
her firm, pleasure-giving titty while she stroked his cock.

Since he was incapable of climax, his rapture spread throughout his body, gradually
drugging his nervous system until he was lulled into sleep.
Marcella’s throbbing nipple slipped from his mouth, and his head sank between the
warm, soft pillows of her breasts. His cock remained rigid, however, as she
continued to hold and stroke it.

When she was certain that he was soundly asleep, and that his sister was asleep,
also, Marcella lay back the covers and glided downward along his slim, young form.
She gazed close-up at his redheaded little rod, illuminated by the moonlight coming
through the window, and her mouth watered.

I hope this will give you sweet dreams, darling! she thought, and stuck out her rosy,
glistening tongue.

She licked the rounded head of her son’s up-thrust penis, delighting in the taste of it.
Her fingers speed up their stroking in her cunt.

Her lips softly brushed the tip of his twelve-year-old pecker, then widened and took
the exquisite little knob between them. Her warm saliva bathed her son’s cockhead,
which pressed her velvety tongue. She tightened the circle of her loving lips around
the rigid shank of her organ … and she began to suck.

Her mind went into a giddy swoon, helped by the now-rapid frigging of her fingers in
and out of her twat. She began to bob her head, taking the lad’s entire erection into
her mouth with every lunge. She sucked his delicious cock and swallowed
frequently.

The juices in her cunt gushed. Her body throbbed. She sucked her son’s prick
heatedly, rubbing her fingers across her clit and between her slippery cuntlips until
she was at the very verge of climax.

Then she jerked her mouth away from the child’s penis, letting it slap against his
pajama-clad tummy, and she turned quickly onto her back to take the hot orgasm
which exploded in her body. She moaned and writhed as the tentacles of fire
reached along her churning legs and up to her brain, giving her intense satisfaction.
And it was all right, she believed, because she was not climaxing with her son, but
alone. The Lord had told her this was permissible, and she always accepted His
word.

She immediately lapsed into a deep sleep …

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