The barbell motion was halted, and he readjusted his head. The son pushed his raunchy, determined, eager tongue deep into her groove. The deepness was intentional, his nose pushing against her engorged clit. Mag’s eyes flew open wide, as if the alarm clock next to her bed woke her from a deep slumber.
“Ugghhh!” she wailed, then directed. “The floor. The floor!”
For the studly sophomore, this meant his mother’s orgasm was coming on strong, now that he grazed her sensitive nub. It was nothing new for either one of them when he was feasting on her in this manner. He guided both of them to the kitchen floor, he lying on his back while Mag was getting situated over his face. The insatiable divorcee, once sitting comfortably on her son’s face, tossed her head about in sensual delight.
“Mmmm! Oh yeah!” she whorishly cheered, lifting the jersey above her head and throwing it across the kitchen. She was now completely naked like Richie.
Mag became a sexual steamroller, grinding her dripping, blazing-hot cunt into her son’s face with authority driven by lust. The pelvic movements were initially slow yet deliberate, rapidly becoming feverish. She felt immense power and monumental sexual gratification as she careened her torrid gash over and over Richie’s forehead, eyes, mouth, tongue and nose. Her swollen pussy lips were spread on his face, smearing her releasing nectar from his chin to the top of his skull.
She growled licentiously, “Yeahhhhh!” It was a deep-seeded combination of eroticism, control, pleasure, and a directive for more.
Richie absolutely loved it when his busty mother used his face for her pleasure. Having her squatting over him, her bent knees on the outer sides of his arms, her smooth thighs spread over his face, the sexy hip gyrations, the tidal wave of her oils, her pungent musk, the slippery feel of her labia and inner thighs, the guttural moans—it had a stranglehold on the lad. He became adept at moving his head so he could get oxygen while Mag face-fucked him.
“Almost there!” she bellowed as the flat of Richie’s tongue and her clit were a match in igniting her climax.
The Adonis quickly raised up his arms and took a hold of her swaying breasts. He squeezed them frantically…at the same time his tongue delivered a barrage of urgent laps to her sexual kernel.
“Oh you, sonofabitch! That’s it! That’s, that’s it! Lick mommy’s clit! Squeeze my tits! Oh yes! Lick it! Make mommy cum all over you! Oh yesss!”
Mom always said I should listen to her he mused to himself. Then in the back of Richie’s hedonistically-charged mind, he heard the chorus of Kiss’ Lick It Up! And that’s what he did! His tongue was incessantly applying an oral staccato of lashes to the excited pearl.
The eyes of the writhing parent were hooded over, lost in the fiery, intense and wicked satisfaction she was receiving. She took a glance at her son’s erect phallus. It was just a few feet away in front of her, rocking about like a buoy in a storm, as he squirmed under her. Richie’s dick wanted her mouth to apply its own oral expertise to it as well as to the twin orbs below it. As much as she loved sucking the taboo sausage and peppers, there was no way she was going to do it now. Occasionally she got selfish when it came to sex. This was one of those moments. The stunning divorcee tossed her head, began massaging her quivering tits, pulled on her turgid nipples, and curled her toes in unbridled, primal joy.