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DDM (01/13)
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
WARNING!
The following story contains detailed descriptions of sex acts between
family members (incest), and between humans and animals (bestiality).
If you are offended by such material, please stop reading now!
<< Danny Does Mom / Part 1 >>
Chapter 1
Helen Fredericson's auburn hair, piled high in a French twist,
accentuated her creamy complexion and the shimmer of her emerald-green
eyes. The stark white of a high-necked hostess gown revealed a size
thirty-
seven bust line that even a severe bra failed to confine and the firm
curvature of size thirty-six hips; the effect was to give her
five-foot-six-
inch figure a regal appearance that was reinforced by her grace and
composure. She busied herself straightening up evidence of company,
emptying ashtrays, wiping away rings left by glasses, and smoothing
wrinkled cushions.
Art Fredericson hovered over his wife, hands deep-thrust into his
pockets, lips compressed, and weight shifting from one foot to the other.
His gaze wandered over her body, drawn by each movement of a muscle, and
he continually wetted his lips with his tongue tip. His sun-bleached hair
was tousled, and it seemed natural above a face roughened by years of
exposure to the weather and eyes whose blue had faded in the wind. His
lean
six-one frame saved him from looking short in contrast to his wife's
height,
and he had an aura of suppressed explosiveness about him.
Helen brushed past her husband and bent to wipe a spot from a corner
of the coffee table. Art's hand came out of his pocket to caress her ass.
She
jerked whirled to face him, angry red spots flaming over her cheekbones.
"Art! For God's sake!"
"Sorry." Art mumbled and returned his hand to his pocket.
Helen doubted that. "After all, there's a time and a place for
everything! Honestly! I think you're getting as bad as Barry."
"Sure, sure. Dirty old man."
"Don't be sarcastic. He is. I don't know why Van lets him get away
with it." Vanessa Rush was the closest friend Helen had - they'd been like
sister's since high school days - but Helen disapproved of Van's
permissive
attitude. 'Letting him look at other women the way he does!' she thought.
'And giggling and simpering when he feels her up - right out in public!
Ugh!
Grandma would have a word for it; she'd have called Van a "strumpet"!'
"Shit! He's only thirty-one. How can he be a dirty old man? And she
lets him because it's natural and she likes it!"
"That's right. When you can't think how to get out of it, use bad
language." She moved out of Art's reach and continued her work.
"At least I live in the real world. Christ, Helen, sex isn't a disease!"
Art sounded quietly desperate. "Nothing dirty about it, except what you
make it in your mind."
"Art Fredericson! Blame it all on me! Grandma would have said . . . "
"GRANDMA, HORSESHIT! Goddamned prude! I never will know how come
your old man couldn't walk on water after that immaculate conception!"
"Art! How dare you!"
He grumbled and subsided. Helen finished the coffee table and turned
to the last end table. Suddenly she felt Art's hand slide up the inner
slope of
her thigh. She clamped her knees together and struck at his arm.
"Damn it! You want Danny to see something like that?" She blazed at
her husband.
"Do him good. His age, he ought to start learning."
"Oh! So I've neglected his education!"
"No! He gets the theory in those school courses! But you've sure
warped it! Hell, a kid ought to know a pat on the fanny is a sign of
affection!"
"Sign of affection! Just lewd, that's what! He saw enough of that
between Barry and Van tonight!"
Art chuckled. "And wondered how it would be to try it on that hot-
eyed kid sister of Van's! See the way he kept sizing her up?"
"Terrible! That's what I mean! And Olga actually flirted!"
"Like with a ten-year-old. That chick isn't going to break in a fifteen-
year-old.'
"She's a tramp!" Helen glanced about the room to see if she'd missed
any spot of disorder. "He's more mature than any of the boy's she's dated
here."
"Carries himself like a man, all right. She may be overlooking an
experience!"
"Oh, Art, don't always be dirty-minded!"
"Okay, okay. Come on, baby, let's go to bed. The house can wait."
"A lot you care! You don't have to face it in the morning. You just go
off to work and let me worry about it."
"And you do. Twenty-four hours a day."
She stiffened. "I have to do something to take my mind off how
grouchy you've gotten!"
"Who the hell wouldn't be grouchy? Takes a national holiday around
here for a guy to get a piece of ass! And then its like reading the
Declaration
of Independence through bulletproof glass!"
"Art fredericson! You're mean and crude! Go on in, I'll be there in a
minute.
She clenched her fists as she watched her husband go into the hallway.
She hated these scenes and had a knot in her belly that kept getting
larger
as the scenes became more frequent. Her grandmother had warned her, long
before she was old enough to understand.
"Selfish, flesh-loving beasts, all of them," the old lady had said often.
"Even your father, dear thing.'
And while Helen's parents had fun and went places, her paternal
grandmother had stuck top the dreadful task of reshaping a lustful,
filthy-
minded child into a civilized girl. Helen knew that's what old Mrs.
Farrell
had done. Hadn't she been told often enough? She'd rebelled, she
remembered. She'd played with herself and spied on her father, filled with
wonder at that enormous cock of his, and made up fantastic stories in her
mind about relations with all the boys she knew. 'Yes', she thought
'Grandma
had a real challenge. She'd been losing it, too, until that wilderness
trip
with the Indian guide.
"Not that he made the difference." she muttered bitterly to herself.
"But what it did to Grandma."
Even Helen's mother had agreed Grandma Farrell's death - her massive
stroke - had come as a direct result of Helen's pregnancy. And Helen had
never lost the black worm of guilt over the fact she'd regretted those
hours
with Tony, the guide, only for her grandmother's death - not for the
mortal
sin she, herself had committed with him. That personal lust - that
terrible,
conscience-deadening pleasure - had burned into her the truth of what her
grandmother had steadfastly maintained.
"You're your mother all over again," her grandmother had said darkly,
over and over. "No shame. No moral fiber. You'll never be a Farrell."
And on the old lady's abrupt death, Helen had realized that she really
loved her grandmother. She'd resolved in that moment - fully aware of the
insatiable sex-hunger in her - that she would atone to her grandmother by
becoming what the Victorian woman had wanted. She buried the hot-pussied
self and built instead a poised, frigid shell. She'd done it well, she
reminded
herself now. Well enough that she'd kept Danny on the right track; well
enough that she'd never let herself progress to an orgasm since that
summer
in the woods. Her grandmother must be proud, looking down from heaven on
the granddaughter she'd given up for hopeless.
Helen hurried to the bedroom. She had time to get into her nightgown
and into bed before Art finished in the bathroom. And there were moments
to recall that summer. There had been a lake and a camp and Tony - he'd
had
a name even her father couldn't pronounce, so they'd nicknamed him tony -
had gone to scout trail for the next day's move. Helen had gone for a lone
hike, then turned back because of a bear. And she's heard her mother's
squeal and her father's carefree, eager laugh.
"Abe! That tickles! Behave yourself!"
"Behave myself! When I can have my nooky in this setting?"
"Your language!"
"Fraud! Get my hand on that snatch and your language will make me
blush!"
"Nooky! . .. Pussy!" Helen whispered from where she now hid in the
brush. They were delightful, tingle-producing words. If she crept only a
few
feet further, she might - just might - get to watch them fuck.
"Wait'll I catch you!" she heard her father say happily.
There was a sound of snapping twigs and rustling underbrush. Helen's
mother burst into view and stumbled. Convenient to be in the middle of a
clearing, thought Helen with a shiver. And her father overtook his wife
there. He pulled her to her feet and crushed her to him, his knee pressed
to
her pussy and his hand kneading her ass. Helen felt her own young pussy
glow as she watched the willing redhead who was her mother writhe in the
hot embrace was a low moan of pleasure.
"Honey! Honey! Oh, I want it so!"
They fell to the dark earth, rolling over each other and grabbing at
each other. Without Helen seeing how, her mother's halter came off and lay
crumpled under them. Abe pinned Ruth beneath him, his mouth gulping at her
breast and his hand diving into her shorts. His wife groped at his trouser
fly, fumbling at the zipper and finally pulling out his cock.
Helen writhed. She twisted her legs until her weight bore on one heel,
through her pussy, and she clutched her breasts in her hands, squeezing
and
massaging. Watching was better than all her dreams put together, she
decided. Only having the experience, herself, could be better. She gasped
and
held her breath. Her father was pulling her mother's shorts - and her
panties, if she had any on - over her hips. Ruth had her ass off the
ground
and squirmed to help him, but she refused to let go of the reddening cock.
Abe lifted his wife's feet as he drew off her shorts, raising her legs
vertically and dropping one hand to prod at her twat. Ruth squealed and
twisted, pulling herself up until she could mouth the moist cockhead that
peeked out of her hand.
"Oh!" whispered Helen. "Oh, how delicious! I wonder how it really
tastes?" The joints of her jaw tensed as if she's just eaten a sour pickle
and her hands fumbled at the waist of her sweater, then slipped inside, up
to her bra and under it to cup the hot flesh of her girlish breasts.
Abe straightened, tugging at his clothes while his wife gnawed at his
prick. her hair flamed in a ray of sunlight, a gleaming halo against the
background of her husband's white belly and thick, black body hair. She
sat
with her knees up and her feet widely parted, her pussy a shimmering, wet
cleft of pink between parallel thickets of carrot-colored pubic hair.
Helen
groaned inwardly with envy as she compared the swollen, parted slopes
with her vivid recollection of her own thin cuntlips. 'Someday!' she
thought.
'Someday I'll have a pussy like that! And a cock like that to kiss!'
But she imagined she heard her grandmother's acid tone in the
distance. "Dirty-minded little girl! Shameless as your mother! The Devil's
own child!" Helen shook her head impatiently - the old woman was two
thousand miles away, and a man named Abe Farrell was getting ready to
fuck a woman named Ruth right in front of his daughter. And Ruth was
sensitizing his cock with her mouth, savoring its maleness before
engulfing
it in her pussy.
Somehow, Helen's mother scrambled to her knees when Abe stood up to
kick off his pants. And she kept his cockhead in her mouth and cradled his
balls in her hand. he laughed and laid his fingers on her temples.
"God, woman! You're something else today! Have a heart!"
Ruth spit out her meaty mouthful and tilted her head back, eyes
dancing as she gazed up at him. "It's you," she said. "I go wild, wanting
you
so much!"
He sank to his knees, his cock trapped between their bellies and her
breasts spreading and flattening against his chest. He seized her
asscheeks,
rolling them in his fingers, pressing them together to close her crack,
parting them to expose the pink pucker of her asshole. Ruth slipped her
arms
over his shoulders and pulled at his flesh with her fingers.
"Darling," she said softly. "Oh, Abe darling! I do love you!" She
squirmed, her hips thrust forward so her belly pressed hard against his.
"Especially with your prick in my belly button!"
Abe fingered the crack of her ass. His eyes closed momentarily and he
blew into his wife's hair. "If it were big enough, you'd train that belly
button to suck me off, wouldn't you?"
"Oh, honey!" Ruth protested laughingly.
Her husband forced his knee between her thighs and raised it, lifting
her from her knees and planting his foot on the ground. Ruth twisted,
raising
herself until she positioned her twat above his dick. She began to lower
herself, her hips undulating as her cunt settled around his cockhead. She
clenched her teeth in concentration, her gaze fixed steadily on Abe's
face.
"Unh . . . unh . . . " Her exclamations were low-voiced and tentative,
spaced as if each were a false expectation of reaching the root of the
cock
she was sliding onto. And then explosively - "UNH! Ahhh!" - she flung her
arms around him and began nuzzling his neck, biting and releasing and
biting
again. Abe squirmed, laughing, and retaliated.
Helen's eyes widened. She withdrew one hand from her breast and
touched her neck and shoulders, pretending someone was giving her "love
bites". She shivered deliciously.
Her mother's boob formed a bride between her straining body and her
husband's, the darkened nipples prodding his chest and burying themselves
in the curls of his body hair. She sat on the back of one thigh and an
asscheek, her other knee hanging toward the ground, and jacked her hips
violently. Abe held one palm at the small of his wife's back and massaged
her ass with the other. His fingers slid along her crack and her buttocks
winked. Both bodies writhed, tense and eager, and Ruth's skin began to
gleam with perspiration.
Helen trembled. "Ooh! Ooh, she likes that!" she whispered, gazing
wide-eyed at her father's fingers as they caressed her mother's ass. She
inched forward on her heel, bearing down with her anus on the rounded,
bony
little foot. She winked her ass the way her mother was doing, biting her
lips
at the sensation and groping at her pussy with her hand. She paused,
clutching herself tightly and bending forward to see better; her parents
were starting to do something else.
Ruth fell back, clinging to Abe's shoulders. She stared into his face,
her eyes looking strangely sleepy. Her mouth was wet and red, and her
nostrils flared. She tossed her head and her hair broke free of its pins.
The
French twist disintegrated to a cloud of tumbling red about her shoulders.
"Darling!" Her voice was husky. "Roll me! Roll me in the dirt! Oh, God, I
feel great! I feel like we're a couple of animals rutting! Please, baby!'
Abe panted. His mouth was open and working, and his fingers kneaded
her flesh spasmodically. He twisted and fell backward, keeping his wife
impaled on his cock and rolling with her as her hit the soft, moist earth.
Ruth's legs parted widely and she gouged into the leafmold with her heels,
kicking vigorously. Together they rolled across the clearing,
sweet-smelling
earth flying and bits of black debris clinging to their bodies. Their
legs and
arms tangled and they bit at each other. Their breaths whistled, its
cadence
punctuated by low grunts of pleasure.
Helen writhed with desire. She twisted her fist among the inflamed
tissues of her pussy and bit the back of her other hand to smother the
continuous whimper that welled in her throat. Oh, yes! she thought. Oh,
yes!
This is the way it ought to be! Naked and rolling free! It might be
sinful, like
Grandma says, but nothing could be more wonderful! I'm going to be like
Mama . . . and I want to!
Abe's fingers dug into the pink and white flesh of his wife's ass,
parting her cheeks and stabbing at her anus, his teeth tugging at her
nipples
while she thrashed beneath him. She ground the back of her head against
the
earth, her eyes bulging and her teeth clenched. Then she opened her mouth
widely.
"Abe! Ride me, darling! Ride me for real!"
"For real?" There was a note of sudden eagerness in Abe's question.
"Ruth hesitated momentarily. "All right," she said then. "But quick,
darling! Now!" She rolled abruptly onto her belly and pushed herself to
her
hands and knees.
As if impatient, Abe caught her at the waist and lifted until his wife
stood stiff-legged, her feet widespread, her body bent at the hips and her
palms flat on the ground. He edged his knees between her taut thighs and
crouched, pushing the head of his cock down so that it nestled in the
depression of her cunt. He pushed forward with his hips, lodging the
cockhead securely in place, and grasped his wife's hips.
"Mm! Mm!" Ruth grunted. "Put it in, darling! Quick!"
Helen felt a curious churning in her belly. She writhed silently while
her father pressed forward and the brutal cockhead buried itself in the
dark
pink flesh. "Oooh!" se moaned silently.
"Oh! . . . Oh! . . . " Ruth gasped. "Hard, Abe! HARD!"
Abe jammed his hips forward and the thick shaft plunged into her. His
hairy belly bumped her ass and his fingers dug into the roundness of her
hips. He hitched himself over her, his cock bending at the root, and
raised
his feet from the ground, hooking his insteps behind his wife's knees. She
sagged for a moment, then stiffened her knees.
"Oh, God, darling!" she exclaimed hoarsely. "God, he's deep!"
Abe levered his knees, stroking his great prick in the mouth of his
wife's pussy. She bounced, her knees flexing under his surges. Her breasts
flopped and her hair tumbled over her arms.
Animals! thought Helen with a happy thrill. They're like animals that
belong here! Wonderful-awful animals that look like people! Her blood
pounded too hard for her to get her breath. Her own young pussy pulsed at
every blow of her father's cock in her mother's upturned cunt and her
boobs
ached. She ground her thighs together, glorying in the sticky wetness that
spread over them.
Abe bent forward, his belly molding itself to his wife's ass and his
hands gripping her waist. His buttocks jerked powerfully while his balls
thumped against Ruth's pubic hair. Helen shivered and gulped at the
contrast
between her mother's finely tapered legs and the humping bulk they
supported. She tried desperately to imagine herself in the same position
sagging under the same burden.
"Abe! Abe!" Ruth cried out. "Only one thing wrong with this way . . . my
boobies ache and you can't hang onto them! Oh, darling, hard!"
"UNNNH!" Abe's lips drew back to reveal his clenched teeth. His
buttocks snapped together and his back straightened, throwing all his
weight on his buried cock. He stopped thrusting and bore down with silent
convulsions of his belly.
The couple trembled fiercely, Ruth's hips swaying in slow, grinding
circles as she appeared to rotate on the base of the deep-thrust cock.
"Mmmm!" she groaned. "MMM, FUCK-FUCK-FUCK! BABY, BABY!"
With a final, violent shudder, her straining body seemed to melt. She
collapsed, Abe riding her to the ground, and the two huddled together,
still
joined and twitching.
Helen fought an impulse to groan. She grovelled in the loose earth,
flattened herself on her belly, her fist in her pussy, and ground her
hips on
the hard knuckles. She fought desperately with herself, her body trembling
on the verge of orgasm while her will demanded self-restraint until she
could get away by herself and act out the scene she'd witnessed. Fiber by
fiber, her body yielded to her determination, her tension easing and the
iron
knot in her belly loosening. She squirmed backward through the low-hanging
brush, terror rising when Ruth and Abe stirred, and relief making her weak
when she was at last safe beyond their sight. She sprang to her feet and
bounded between the trees, hot desire tearing at her.
With a sob of gratitude, she stumbled into a pocket in the woods Tony
had shown her, where one could lie quietly and watch a family of squirrels
argue over pine cones or a heedless rabbit forage. The spruce stood apart
and a thicket of low firs trailed their boughs to the ground, shutting
out the
world. Going to the center of the tiny clearing, she set her feet apart
and
drew herself erect. After a moment she arched her back and stared at the
narrow patch of sky, her hands clutching at her breasts, then passing over
her belly with hard pressure and stopping at the tops of her thighs.
"Now!" she said softly. "Now, Helen Farrell!"
She unbuttoned her blouse, laying it open with her back still arched
and her breasts pointed defiantly toward the treetops. Extending her hands
behind her, she let the blouse slide off her fingertips to the ground. She
trembled in her effort to maintain her pose while unfastening her bra,
then
drew it off and dropped it, fingering her conical boobs and plucking at
the
quivering, hard little nipples. A great tingle surged over her, doubling
her
with its intensity, and she fumbled at her slacks, her hands clumsy on the
button and too eager with the zipper. She thrust them off her hips and
dropped panting to the earth while she struggled to draw them over her
boots. The boots had to stay on; they would add a measure of sensuous
contrast to what she meant to do. In a frenzy of haste he tore away her
panties, leaving until another time the problem of explaining their loss.
Again, she assumed her "sky-worshipping" stance, her small red
triangle of pubic hair darker than her mother's and not yet covering as
much
of her flesh, but thick and springy, nonetheless. Arched as she was, she
drew her belly into a taut, convex surface. Her navel stretched into a
groove
and her pussy shook with the strain of her posture.
"Oooo! . . . Oooh!" She flung her arms up and back and let her head hang
back, with her hair falling free. "Mmmm!" Without changing her body's
alignment, she placed her hands on her pussy and pulled the wet lips
apart.
Her fingertips explored her slit, lingering at her labia before slipping
forward to the raw little lump that generated such incredible sensations
of
delight. Writhing and gasping, she played with her clitoris, whipping her
excitement back to the peak she'd felt during her parent's orgasm.
"Yes!" she exclaimed. "Yes, it's now! Now!"
She dropped to all fours, knees stiff and palms resting on the cool
earth, spreading her feet as widely as she could and imagining her father
was mounting her. She sagged, pretending his weight pressed her down, then
thrust one hand into her crotch to massage the gaping folds. For a time,
she
teased herself, sliding her fingertips in the wetness on her pussy and
tracing rings around the rim of her cunt, but at last she yielded to her
feverish hunger and started to rub her clitoris.
"NNNG! . . . AGHHH!" Her hips jerked and her boobs bounced under her as
her excitement rocketed. "Oh, yes! Oh, God, yes!"
Something touched her hips. She stiffened and fought against the
scream that welled in her throat. Her glance darted past her legs to the
moccasined feet of the guide and waves of horror engulfed her.
"No! OH, NO!" she sobbed, too terrified to move. "Don't tell! Please
don't tell!"
She tried to push herself to her feet, but Tony's hand rested on the
small of her back, holding her where she was.
"Please!" she whimpered. "Please, Tony!"
He circled her waist with his fingers, then slid his hands to her hips,
fingering her ass and stroking her thighs. The roughness of his palms was
like needles of pure delight on her skin, and she surged under his
caress. He
brushed one finger over her rectum. Her buttocks clamped together, then
spread at Tony's insistent massage. His thumbs settled on her labia,
forcing
them apart and making her cunt yawn. He poked one square-tipped finger at
the eager little mouth and grunted with amusement when the rim puckered.
"Maybe you good fuck," he observed.
"Omigod, Tony! No! . . . Yes! . . . Oh, Tony!"
He uttered the grunt she'd come to know as his substitute for a
sympathetic chuckle. Gently he raised her, then took her in his arms and
laid
her on the earth.
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