Mobile version"This is my first little story! I still have a lot to learn, so please give me as much feedback and criticism as you can! If you like it, I would love to continue the story!"
Motherly Secret At Hardwood Farm | Mother & Son & Grandmother
On a seemingly ordinary afternoon at Hardwood Farm, the sun casts long shadows across the well-managed acreage as Billy Thistlewood, a young man in his early twenties, diligently mucks out the horses' stables. His mother, Evelyn Margaret Thistlewood, is presumably in her usual spot, the ranch office, buried beneath a mountain of tax documents and the quiet clack of her calculator. Meanwhile, his grandmother, Margaret, is likely indulging in her customary afternoon nap, the house a bastion of routine and familial comfort. But as Billy wipes the sweat from his brow and heads into the house, the tantalizing aroma of his favorite stew wafting through the air fails to satiate the hunger that suddenly gnaws at him. Instead, he's drawn by an unsettling sound that pierces the silence of the typically tranquil abode—a muffled, rhythmic moaning emanating from the very room where his mother is supposed to be crunching numbers.
Billy's curiosity gets the better of him as the unusual noises beckon him closer to the source. He tiptoes down the hallway, his boots barely making a sound on the well-worn wooden floorboards. The closer he gets to the office, the more pronounced the moans become, sending a shiver of unease down his spine. Pressing his eye to the keyhole, Billy's heart skips a beat as he witnesses a scene that defies all expectations. There, amidst the chaos of scattered papers and and on top of the desk, is his grandmother, Margaret, on all fours, her blouse unbuttoned to reveal her time-worn breasts swaying gently with every guttural moan. But it's the sight of his mother, Evelyn, that truly confounds him. She's standing behind her mother, her face buried between Margaret's legs, her tongue eagerly exploring the most intimate and forbidden of terrains.
Evelyn's tongue darts out like a serpent, gliding over Margaret's asshole with a practiced finesse that speaks of a shared history of pleasure and power. She savors the taste, a blend of musk and saltiness that she's come to crave. The way her mouth forms around the tight ring, the gentle suckling that elicits deeper moans from Margaret, it's clear that Evelyn has mastered the art of anilingus. Her hands are firm yet gentle, caressing her mother's thighs and hips, guiding her closer, as if to say, "I'm in control."
Billy's gaze lingers on his mother, admiring the way her buttoned-up blouse clings to her slender shoulders and the way her long buttoned-up skirt pools around her, creating a stark contrast with the spicy scene unfolding before him. The sight of Evelyn's bare midriff, the fabric of her blouse straining against the buttons as she leans in closer to her mother, is strangely mesmerizing. The rustle of fabric and the soft sounds of moisture are the only interruptions in the otherwise silent office, the very air seeming to thicken with the intensity of their passion. Despite the tumult of emotions coursing through him, Billy can't help but acknowledge the allure of his mother's confidence and the raw sexuality that radiates from her every movement.
The room seems to hold its breath as Grandma Margaret, her eyes half-lidded with pleasure, surprises both Billy and Evelyn by taking the initiative to suck her daughter's tongue into her ass with a fervor that belies her age. The sight of his mother's tongue disappearing into his grandmother's body, only to emerge moments later glistening with a mixture of saliva and sweat, sends a bolt of lightning through Billy's core. Evelyn's face contorts in a silent scream, her cheeks hollowing as Margaret's muscles clamp down around her tongue, pulling it deeper into her abyss. The sound is muffled yet undeniable, a symphony of pleasure that resonates through the room. Billy's eyes widen in disbelief, his hand involuntarily moving to the bulge in his pants, his mind racing to process the scene before him.
Evelyn's intensity grows as she licks and sucks her mother's ass with an insatiable hunger that seems to have no end. Her tongue swirls and flutters, exploring every inch of the puckered opening, her movements becoming more fervent as Margaret's moans reach a fever pitch. The sight of his mother's face, flushed and contorted with pleasure, is something Billy never imagined he'd witness, and it stirs in him a confusing cocktail of emotions—disgust, arousal, and fascination. Despite the shock and horror that should be consuming him, Billy can't tear his gaze away from the erotic display. The way Evelyn's nose nuzzles against Margaret's plump cheeks, the way her tongue delves in and out, mingling with the older woman's juices, it's a spectacle that simultaneously repulses and captivates him. He watches as his mother's glasses slip down the bridge of her nose, the steamy lenses fogging up with the heat of their passion. Billy is torn between the urge to join them, to understand this darker side of the woman he loves and admires, and the desire to flee from the scene that threatens to shatter his perception of their family dynamics forever.
As Billy watches, his grandmother's body begins to convulse. Evelyn's tongue moves faster, more urgently, as if eager to capture every last shiver of pleasure that courses through her mother's body. The moment is climactic, a crescendo of passion that seems to shake the very foundation of the farmhouse. With a final, squeeze of her asshole, Margaret's orgasm crashes over her like a tidal wave, leaving her trembling and panting, her legs quivering uncontrollably beneath her. Evelyn withdraws her tongue with a slow, lingering caress, her eyes meeting Margaret's. The love and in their gaze is palpable, a silent declaration that in this moment, nothing else in the world matters but their shared pleasure.
After the intense climax, Evelyn gently wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, the gesture oddly tender and loving in the aftermath of their taboo act. Billy, still frozen at the door, watches as the two women begin to tidy up the disheveled room. Evelyn stands, her knees popping slightly from the exertion, and straightens her skirt with a smooth motion, the fabric whispering against her skin. She runs her fingers through her hair, rearranging it, and then steps over to help Margaret to her feet. The older woman's legs are wobbly, her breaths coming in ragged gasps, but she manages a knowing smile as she adjusts her blouse and tucks her breasts back behind its buttons. Together, they collect the scattered papers, their movements a silent ballet of synchronized efficiency that speaks of countless similar encounters in the past. The room, once a battlefield of passion and desire, is swiftly restore to its former state of order and professionalism, as if the erotic interlude had never occurred. As they finish tidying up, Margaret leans heavily against Evelyn, her hand coming to rest on her daughter's hip. The intimacy between them is undeniable, a bond that goes beyond the bounds of the typical mother-daughter relationship. They share a soft, lingering kiss, the kind that speaks of love and familiarity.
Billy's mind swirls with confusion and arousal as he watches his mother and grandmother compose themselves. He realizes that his hand is still at his crotch, his erection painfully obvious through his dusty jeans. Panic seizes him as the reality of what he's just witnessed crashes down upon him. With a shaky breath, he releases his grip on the doorknob and retreats down the hallway. The house seems to shrink around him as he stumbles back to his room, the once-familiar space now suffocating in its newfound tapestry of secrets and perversion. He collapses onto his bed, the mattress groaning under his weight, and buries his face in his pillow. The farm, the very foundation of his existence, has shifted beneath his feet.
Minutes later, Evelyn's sharp voice pierces the silence of the farm, echoing through the hallways as she calls out to Billy, "What's taking you so long with those stalls? Get back to work before it's too late!" The authority in her tone is unmistakable. Billy, his mind still racing with the images of his mother and grandmother, jumps to his feet and takes a deep breath. As he descends the stairs, he hears his grandmother's gentle laughter mingling with the clatter of dishes from the kitchen, as if the scene he'd just witnessed was nothing more than a feverish dream.
Evelyn is waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs with a scowl on her face, her eyes narrowed in a way that makes the bridge of her nose crinkle just so. Billy's heart skips a beat as he tries to read the expression on her face, wondering if she's somehow aware of his discovery. She taps her foot impatiently, her buttoned-up skirt swaying with the movement. He swallows hard, his mouth suddenly dry, and tries to formulate a response that won't betray his secret. "Sorry, Mom," he mumbles, his voice thick with a mix of fear and arousal he can't quite hide. "I just... needed a break." Evelyn sighs, her shoulders slumping slightly, and the sharpness in her gaze softening into something that resembles concern. "Alright, Billy," she says, her voice a gentle reprimand. "But you've got to finish up those stalls before dinner. Your grandma's already set the table." With that, she turns and walks away, the rustle of her skirt trailing behind her. Billy watches her retreating back, his mind racing. How does he go back to his life as if nothing's changed? How can he look his mother in the eye without seeing her in that office, her tongue buried in his grandmother's ass? The questions swirl in his head like a tornado, but he knows he must bury them deep, along with the burgeoning desires that now threaten to surface. For now, he takes a deep breath and heads back outside.
Dinner is a tense affair, the air thick with the scent of Grandma Margaret's stew and the unspoken tension that now hangs over the table. Billy tries to focus on his plate, pushing the chunks of beef around with his fork, his appetite los. Evelyn and Margaret sit across from him, their conversation a forced cascade of farm updates and small talk. He steals glances at them, unable to reconcile the women who had just engaged in such an intimate act with the ones who now sit before him. The way his mother's glasses reflect the flickering candlelight, the softness of her smile as she reaches for a slice of bread—it all feels like a facade now, a mask that hides the true nature of her desires. Billy's own body feels like a traitor, responding to the sight of his mother's buttoned-up attire with an unwanted arousal that makes his cheeks burn with shame. A strange, almost perverse fascination takes root.
He glances up from his half-eaten plate to find his mother's eyes on him. For a moment, he considers speaking up, confronting her about the scene he'd stumbled upon, but the words catch in his throat, a tangle of fear and a strange, inexplicable yearning. Instead, he shifts in his seat and watches as Evelyn reaches for her glass of water, her slender fingers curling around the stem now gently lifting the water to her lips, the same lips that buried in the folds of his grandmother's body. As the minutes tick by, Billy finds himself drawn to his mother in a way that's both disturbing and exhilarating. Her stern demeanor, the way she commands the room without raising her voice—it's a power that now resonates with him. The urge to confront her, to demand answers, wars with the part of him that's desperate to be a part of the hidden world he's just glimpsed. The stew grows cold on his plate as the dinner stretches on.
Evelyn clears her throat delicately, the sound cutting through the heavy silence like a knife. "Billy, you really need to eat," she says, her voice a blend of concern and irritation. "You've barely touched your food." The maternal command in her tone is unmistakablem. He glances down at his plate, with a heavy sigh, he picks up his fork and forces himself to take a bite. As he chews, he feels the weight of their combined gazes, both mothers watching him expectantly. Evelyn shifts in her chair, the fabric of her skirt whispering against the seat, and he can't help but wonder if she's thinking of the last time her mouth was full, not with food, but with the taste of her mother's asshole. The thought sends a bolt of lightning through him, and he chokes on his food, his cheeks flushing.
With trembling hands, Billy sets his fork down on the plate with a clink that seems to shatter the tension into a million shards. "I can't eat any more," he croaks out, his voice barely audible over the thundering of his heart. His mother's eyes narrow slightly, and grandma Margaret's eyes soften with concern as she leans in. "Is everything alright, dear?" she asks, her voice a gentle caress that sends a shiver down Billy's spine.
“What kind of sick shit are you two into?" Margaret's gaze hardened, but she remained silent, her grip tightening around her fork as if it were a weapon. Evelyn pushed her chair back, the legs screeching against the hardwood as she stood up, her skirt fluttering around her ankles. She leaned across the table, her face inches from Billy's, her breath hot against his skin. "What?" she hissed, her voice low and dangerous. Evelyn's hand shot out, grabbing him by the wrist, her grip surprisingly strong. "You will not speak like this again," she warned, her eyes boring into his.
Evelyn's grip tightened around Billy's wrist, her eyes searching his for any hint of the truth. "What are you talking about, Billy?" she demanded, her voice a careful blend of concern and authority. Billy swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to the floor before he could find the courage to meet hers again. "I...I saw you," he stammered, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "In the office... with Grandma." Evelyn's eyes narrowed, the color draining from her face. "What did you see?" she asked, her tone eerily calm. Billy took a deep, shaky breath. "I saw you...licking Grandma's asshole," he finally managed, the words tearing from him like a confession. The room seemed to hold its breath, for a moment, neither woman said anything. Then, slowly, Evelyn released Billy's wrist, her hand falling to her side as she took a step back. "You watched us," she murmured, more to herself than to him. The accusation in her voice stung. "It's not what it looked like," Margaret spoke up, her voice trembling slightly. But Billy knew better. He'd seen the raw passion in their eyes, the unmistakable hunger that could only be born from a deep, intimate connection. "What is it then?" Billy shot back, his voice stronger now, fueled by the anger and confusion that swirled within him. Evelyn's gaze was cold, the warmth that usually filled her eyes replaced with a steely resolve. "It's none of your business," she said simply, turning away from him to straighten her already neatly fitting buttoned-up skirt. But Billy knew that wasn't good enough, not anymore. "It is my business when it happens under out roof," he retorted, his voice shaking with emotion. As the weight of his words settled over them, the three of them remained locked in a tense standoff, the only sound the erratic beating of their hearts.
Margaret, sensing the tension in the room, set her silverware down with a deliberate clink and placed her hands on the table, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Billy, dear," she began, her voice a soothing balm to the harshness of the silence, "what you saw earlier was a private moment between your mother and I, one that is a very special part of our relationship. It's nothing to be ashamed of or scared by. Love comes in many forms, and ours is just a bit...different." She reached out a hand to him, her eyes filled with a warmth that seemed to envelop him, despite the starkness of her words. "You've always been a curious boy," she said with a knowing nod.
Evelyn's hand slammed down on the table, the sound echoing through the room and interrupting Margaret's gentle words. Her eyes flashed with an intensity that Billy had never seen before, and her voice was low and menacing as she turned to face her son. "Billy, you will never speak of this to anyone," she growled, her teeth clenched. "What you saw was a private moment, a sacred part of our relationship that you have no right to question or judge." She took a step closer to him, "If you breathe a word of this to anyone," she continued, her voice a hiss that sent a cold shiver down Billy's spine, "I will make sure that you regret it for the rest of your life." Her hand shot out, gripping the collar of his shirt and pulling him closer until their noses were almost touching. "Do you understand me?" she demanded, her eyes boring into his soul. Billy's heart hammered in his chest, all he could do was nod frantically, his voice lost to the fear that now choked him.
Margaret's expression hardened, her grip on Evelyn's arm firm as she pulled her away from Billy, her movements surprisingly swift for a woman of her age. "That's enough, Evelyn," she murmured, her voice a gentle yet unyielding command. She turned to face Billy, "Your mother is right, Billy," she said, her voice soothing despite the edge of anger that lingered beneath the surface. "What you saw is between us, but I want you to consider something." She took a step closer to him, her hand reaching out to cup his cheek, her thumb tracing the line of his jaw with a tenderness that sent a jolt of something unfamiliar through his body. "In fact, I think it's time you learned the true meaning of family, of the love and trust that flows through our veins." She paused, her gaze searching his, and for a moment, "You could be a part of this," Margaret continued, her voice dropping to a seductive purr. "You could share in our secret, in our passion." The idea was as shocking as it was tantalizing, his mind reeling. Evelyn's eyes wide with a mix of horror and something that looked suspiciously like desire. "Mother," she began, but Margaret silenced her with a look that was both loving and imperious. "We can show you, Billy," she said. Billy's breath hitched in his throat, his eyes darting between the two women, his mind racing with a million thoughts, none of them appropriate—the allure of the forbidden, the call of the taboo.
Billy felt his knees wobble as the words sank in, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Swallowing hard, he nodded, his voice barely more than a murmur. "Okay," he agreed, the word sticking in his throat like a burr. The two women shared a knowing look, a silent conversation that seemed to speak volumes. "Thank you, Billy," Margaret said, her smile gentle and warm. "We're a family, and we'll get through this together."
With a gentle sigh, Margaret leaned in and pressed her lips to Evelyn's, the tender touch of their mouths sending a jolt of electricity through the room. The kiss was slow and deliberate, a promise that the secrets of their hearts would remain sealed from the outside world. Evelyn's eyes fluttered closed, her body visibly relaxing as she gave in to the warmth of her mother's embrace. Yet, even as her arms encircled Margaret's waist, pulling her closer, a part of her remained tense, her gaze flicking over her mother's shoulder to where Billy still stood, frozen in shock. The worried crease between her brows deepened as she felt the weight of his stare upon her. The kiss grew deeper, more urgent, as if the two women were trying to reaffirm their connection in the face of Billy's newfound knowledge. Yet, even as their tongues danced together, Evelyn's heart felt the ache of doubt. Would her son ever see her the same way again? As they pulled apart, breathless and panting, Margaret's eyes searched hers, seeking reassurance, but all she found was the reflection fear and uncertainty.
Margaret leaned closer to Evelyn, her breath hot against her daughter's neck as she whispered, "Kiss him, there's no need for fear." Evelyn's heart skipped a beat, the blood rushing to her face as she turned to look at Billy. His gaze was still transfixed on them, a mix of shock and confusion in his eyes that made her stomach twist. For a moment, she hesitated. Then, with a tremble in her voice that belied the steel in her spine, she took a step towards him. Her hand reached out, her thumb brushing against his cheek as she tilted his chin up to meet her gaze. "It's alright," she murmured, her voice a soothing balm to the ragged edges of his emotions. "We're still a family, and we'll get through this together." Her eyes searched his, looking for any hint of understanding. And then she leaned in, her full, thin-lipped mouth pressing against Billy's. The kiss was soft and tentative at first, but as Billy's arms wrapped around her, his body responding to the warmth of her embrace, it grew more fervent. Margaret watched with a knowing smile. As they pulled away, the room was suffused with the heady scent of their mingled breath.
Evelyn and Billy stared into each other's eyes for what felt like an eternity. His eyes traveled down to her blouse, now slightly askew from their passionate embrace. He found himself admiring the way her buttoned-up shirt clung to her frame, the fabric straining against her shoulders and chest. Her glasses were slightly askew, giving her an air of vulnerability that only served to make her more alluring. The sight of his mother, so powerful and commanding in her professional life, now standing before him in such a state of desire was exhilarating. He swallowed hard.
Evelyn, sensing the shift in the room, straightened her posture. She smoothly adjusted her glasses, the gesture a silent declaration of her dominance. With a slight smile, she began to trace her fingers along the button placket of her blouse, her movements deliberate and teasing. "Billy," she said, her voice a seductive purr, "what you've witnessed here today is something that we've shared for a very long time. It's a part of who we are, and it's a part of the love that makes us a family." Her eyes gleamed with a mischief that seemed to dare him to challenge her. "But," she added, her tone growing firm, "it's also something that requires absolute discretion." Her fingers paused at the top button, her finger circling it with a gentle pressure that seemed to echo the pulse of her own desire. The room grew still as Billy nodded slowly, his gaze transfixed on his mother's fingers playing with the fabric of her shirt. Evelyn's smile grew, a predatory glint in her eye as she leaned in closer, her breath warm and sweet with the scent of the stew they'd shared just moments ago. "Good," she murmured.
With a mischievous glint in her eye, Margaret leaned in, her voice a seductive whisper that seemed to coil around Billy's spine. "Why don't you help your mother out, dear?" she suggested, her gaze flicking down to Evelyn's blouse. "Just unbutton it, but don't take it off. It makes her feel safe, you know." The air grew thick with anticipation as Billy's hand hovered over the first button. His fingertips brushed against the fabric, his trembling hand taking its time to unbutton each one, revealing a little more of his mother's creamy skin with every release. Evelyn's breath hitched slightly, her eyes glances hungrily at Magaret. The room was filled with the soft rustle of fabric, the sound of buttons opened, and the heavy silence that seemed to amplify every heartbeat. When Billy's hand reached the last button, he paused, his eyes searching Evelyns, he saw a fierce love, a love that had been twisted and shaped by their shared secret, a love that now included him in their taboo. With trembling fingers, he parted the fabric, revealing her breasts.
Billy's gaze drifted down to his mother's exposed chest, his eyes widening at the sight of her little saggy tits. They were a testament to the years of nurturing and care she had provided, and yet, two astonishingly long, hard nipples that pointed down of desire. He couldn't help but feel a strange sense of awe at the beauty of his mother's body. Despite the confusion swirling in his mind, his cock swelling in his pants as he took in the intimate sight before him. Evelyn's chest rose and fell with each shallow breath, her eyes never leaving Billy' as he examined her with a mix of curiosity and fascination. The silence grew heavier, the air thick with unspoken questions and unbridled passion, until Margaret's gentle voice broke through the tension. "Evelyn," she said, her own desire clear in her tone, "why don't you let Billy get to know you better?" With a nod of encouragement, the invitation was unmistakable, and as Evelyn bit her bottom lip, Billy found himself moving closer, his hands reaching out to cup the soft mature tits, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath his hands. His thumbs brushed over the erect nipples, eliciting a gasp from his mother that was music to his ears.
Margaret's knees creaked as she lowered herself to the floor in front of Billy, the sound a reminder of the years that had passed since the first time she had knelt before her daughter in a similar fashion. Her eyes gleamed with a hunger as she reached out to caress the burgeoning bulge in his trousers. Her grip was firm yet gentle. She looked up at him with a warm smile, the wrinkles around her eyes crinkling with a love that was as fierce as it was forbidden. "Let me help you with that," she whispered. Her hand deftly unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his pants, the fabric parting to reveal the rock-hard length of his cock, standing proudly against the backdrop of his boxers. Margaret's eyes widened with admiration, and she leaned in, her warm breath ghosting over the sensitive skin. Her hand wrapped around him and she began to stroke him. Evelyn watched with a mix of pride and hunger, her own desire flaring as she saw her son's body respond to her mother's touch. As Margaret leaned in closer, her tongue darting out to lick the precum from the tip of Billy's cock, Evelyn stepped behind him, her own hands slipping beneath his shirt to trace the contours back, her nails digging in slightly as she whispered encouragements in his ear. The three of them were bound together lust and familial love that knew no boundaries.
Margaret slowly unbuttoned her own blouse, the fabric parting to reveal the fullness of her breasts that hung low and flabby. Her skin, a canvas of wrinkles and experience, her large, pendulous breasts much different to Evelyn's smaller, firmer mounds. With a grace that belied her age, she shrugged the unbuttoned-shirt off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. Billy's eyes were glued to Margaret's breasts, the elongated nipples beckoning, stirred in him an unexpected and powerful lust. He watched, his breath hitching in his throat, as Margaret leaned in closer, her mouth opening to engulf his cock. The sensation was exquisite, the warmth and wetness of her mouth surrounding him, her tongue swirling around the sensitive tip as she took him in deeper. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked with a vigor that seemed to challenge the very essence of their shared taboo with a skill that spoke of countless nights spent exploring the depths of her own desires. Meanwhile, Evelyn's hands roamed over Billy's back, her nails digging into his flesh just enough to leave a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Her breath was hot in his ear.
Evelyn's hands moved swiftly to Billy's shirt, her movements a blur of efficiency as she deftly pulled it up and over his head, leaving him bare-chested before her. Her eyes raked over his body, drinking in the sight of his physique, a mirror of the man he was becoming. Leaning in close, her breath hot against his ear, she whispered, "Don't hold back, Billy." Her words were a command, a gentle yet firm push into the abyss of their shared desires.The scent of their mingled arousal filling the air as she guided his hands back to her own breasts. "Explore," she urged, "Know your mother's body." And with that, Billy let go of his last shred of hesitation, his hands moving to cover her breasts fully, his thumbs tracing the hardened peaks of her nipples, feeling them respond to his touch with a fervor that matched his own. The slick wetness of Margaret's mouth on his cock, the soft gasps of pleasure from Evelyn as he touched her, and the rhythmic thud of three hearts beating in unison.
Evelyn raised her arms to adjust her glasses, which had slid down her nose in the heat of the moment, and Billy's gaze was drawn to the unruly thicket of hair that nestled in her armpits. Something that didn't fit in with her usual extreme neatness. that seemed to defy the very essence of the orderly woman he had always known. He couldn't help but feel a strange fascination with the sight, his mind racing to reconcile the image of his mother, with the woman whose body was now a canvas of raw desire. The hair in her armpits was against the societal norms that dictated what was considered acceptable for a woman of her age and status. As she watched him, a knowing smile playing at the corners of her lips.
Margaret's pace grew more frenzied as she sucked Billy's cock with a wild abandon that belied her age, her cheeks hollowing as she drew him in deeper and deeper still. Meanwhile, Evelyn stepped closer, her hand guiding Billy's face until his cheek was pressed firmly against her armpit, the coarse hairs tickling his skin as she whispered, "Do you like it?" Her voice was a mix of challenge and seduction, the power dynamics in the room shifting and swirling like a tempest. Her eyes, filled with a fiery desire, her own arousal spiking with every whimper of pleasure that escaped her son's lips. The scent of her, a heady mix of sweat, sex, and the earthy aroma of her natural hair, was intoxicating, a scent that seemed to reach into the very core of his being. Billy's eyes fluttered shut as he nodded, the sensation of his mother's furred pit against his face an unexpected thrill. Evelyn's grip on his hair tightened, a silent demand for him to show her just how much he enjoyed the intimate embrace of her body.
With a firm yet gentle hand, Evelyn guided Billy's face to her other armpit, the scent of her sex now mingling with the musk of her underarm. "Lick it," she ordered, her voice a low purr that seemed to resonate in every fiber of his being. And so, with his mother's hand still tangled in his hair and his cock buried in Margaret's eager mouth, Billy found himself obeying without hesitation. His tongue danced through the coarse forest of hair, tasting the salt of her skin and the sweetness of her desire. The sensation was like nothing he had ever felt before, a strange and alluring blend of comfort and excitement that seemed to unravel him from the inside out. As he lapped at his mother's armpit, his own cock throbbed with need, the pressure building with every stroke of Margaret's tongue. The sounds of their love grew louder, the wet smacking of Margaret's mouth, the soft moans of Evelyn's encouragement, and Billy's own gasps of pleasure filling the room. He felt the first wave of his climax building, he knew he couldn't hold back much longer.
Evelyn's eyes rolled back in ecstasy as Billy's tongue danced through her armpit hair, her body trembling with every stroke. She watched him with a mix of lust and maternal pride, her own desire mirroring the passion etched on Margaret's face as she continued her relentless sucking. The room was a cacophony of moans and wet sounds, the air thick with the musk of arousal. Suddenly, Billy's body stiffened, and with a guttural groan, he released a torrent of hot, sticky cum into Margaret's eager mouth. She swallowed greedily, she savored every drop of his essence. Evelyn's grip on his hair tightened, her own climax approaching as she felt her son's release. The three of them were lost in a haze of passion, a maelstrom of love and lust that had been a secret for too long, now unleashed in the confines of the Hardwood Farm. As Billy's tremors subsided, Margaret pulled back, her cheeks smeared with cum, a proud smile gracing her lips as she looked up at him, her eyes alight with a love that was as fierce as it was forbidden. Evelyn leaned in, her own breathing ragged, and kissed her mother deeply, sharing the taste of their union in a moment that was as beautiful as it was taboo. The room grew quiet.
Evelyn gently pulled away from Margaret's mouth, her eyes flickering. She gracefully untangled herself from her son's embrace. Carefully, she reached for a box of tissues, her movements deliberate and precise as she began to clean the sticky mess from her mother's face. Margaret's eyes remained closed, a blissful smile playing on her lips as she basked in the afterglow of their shared passion. Evelyn's gaze was softer now, the fierce hunger replaced by a gentle tenderness as she helped her mother to her feet, her hands deftly buttoning up the unbuttoned-shirt of herself. Billy stood there, his cock now limp and glistening with Margaret's saliva, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight of his mother and grandmother.
Evelyn looked at Billy. Gently, she reached up and plucked a wayward armpit hair from the corner of his mouth. She leaned in and kissed him deeply, her tongue exploring his mouth with the same passion she had shown moments before. When she pulled back, she whispered in his ear, "Now, my love, help us clean up." Her voice was a blend of softness and authority. Billy nodded, his eyes still wide with a mix of shock and arousal. Evelyn turned her attention to the table. The young man moved automatically to obey, his mind racing with questions and emotions he had never felt before.
As Billy mechanically cleared the dinner plates, his grandmother, Margaret, approached him from behind, her arms wrapping around his waist. Her soft, wrinkled breasts pressed against his back, the scent of her skin a comforting reminder of the bond they had just shared in the office. Leaning in, she whispered a heartfelt "Thank you." The gesture was so unexpectedly tender that it brought a lump to Billy's throat, and he couldn't help but lean back into her, feeling the comfort of her touch as she nuzzled her cheek against his shoulder. The three of them, now dressed and composed, walked together to the kitchen sink, where Evelyn had already begun running warm water. As they washed the dishes together, the warm water running over their hands, the weight of their shared secret. Billy felt a profound sense of acceptance, his mother and grandmother's love for him as unconditional as the earth that sustained their farm.
