Mother my slave - Sex Stories

Mother my slave

... vagina and his thumb out of her rectum. She let out a squeal as her son jerked her into a kneeling position by her hair. She cringed in fear as her son cut the air in front of her face with the metal clothes hanger. Fearfully she watched her son stand before her his cock jetting out from dark forest of his groin. It was longer then his father's by at less three inches and thicker. The tip was oozing precum from its slit. Though he hadn't yet Joan knew that her son would soon be r****g her. Roger was suffering from the worst case of blue balls that he had ever suffered in his life as he looked down at his mother's boobs. The rug burned orbs were a mouth watering delight to behold. The track across the rug had caused her brutally whipped nipples and newly formed minitits to swell even more then they had before the booby drag race. The rest of her mammary glands were a bright red from the rug burns they had been subject to. He couldn't resist the urge to squeeze, pinch and tweak the inflamed goodies before him. So he did. Joan shuttered and squirmed in agonizing pain as her son's powerful hands assaulted her abused breasts flesh. With the palm of both hands her son started slapping her rug burned boobs about. He slapped them from side to side, up and down, on the tops, the bottoms, the out sides and the insides with powerful blows. He titty slapped every square inch of his mother's rug burned boobies. He loved the darker red handprints that were laid on top of her already ...

... redden tit flesh. When Roger got tired of slapping his mother's boobies around he wrapped his hands around the bloated ends of her breasts her minitits and squeezed the swollen flesh tightly. He twisted the squished minitits to the left as if he was trying to open a couple of tightly sealed jar tops. Then to the right to reseal them. Then in opposite directions. After releasing the very well twisted minitits he move down to her whipped bloated nipples. He tightly pinched the inflamed, swollen nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. Via the trap nippers Roger jerked his mother's abused boobies around her chest. Throughout the breasts torture Joan screamed in muffled anguish through her soiled panties in her mouth. After a good thirty minutes of torturing her mammary glands her son pulled her chest down towards the floor via her pinched nipples. When he released her teats Joan immediately pressed her abused mammary glands into the rug. And assumed her painfully taught servitude position. That did it. Roger had to get relief for his blue balls before they exploded. He moved behind his mother and surveyed her up thrusted ass. Licking his lips with fervor enthusiasm the s*******n-year-old came to a decision. WHOOSH! CRACK! WHOOSH! CRACK! WHOOSH! CRACK! WHOOSH! CRACK! Mrs. Joan Peterson lurched forwarded as the clothes hanger etched its way across her well presented rump. Without her son holding her knees off the floor by her vagina allowed Joan to lift her face and most importantly ...