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"Okay, Sis, now what?" Eddie asked.
"Bring her over to the bed," Mindy leered. "We're gonna try to persuade her to see things our way."
"That isn't possible. Mindy," Joan snarled. "I'll never have a mind that filthy. You'd better let me go right this instant, or you'll be sorry."
She went on sputtering as the boys led her over to the bed and pulled her onto it. Mindy paid no attention to her mother's angry remarks. She just slipped off Joan's shoes, then her pantyhose, and then started unbuttoning the front of her dress. Joan turned beet red, and the boys began to grin as they caught on to their sister's wicked plan.
"Mindy," Joan cried, "I'm warning you... this is ridiculous!. You're only going to make things worse for yourselves. Let me go right now."
"Relax, Mom," Mindy replied with a maddening grin. "I've got a feeling you're going to love this."
That was exactly what Joan feared. She'd gotten so turned on as she watched her kids making out, and for the first time she'd realized how boring her own sex life was. She found she was eager for novelty and excitement, and of course her naughty children could give her plenty of that. But she couldn't allow herself to take part in their incestuous orgy. That was against everything she'd always believed.
Now Mindy was opening the front of her dress and exposing her nicely-packed bra to the boys. Roy and Eddie were kneeling beside her, holding their squirming mother down by her shoulders. Joan couldn't see their faces, but she could hear their harsh excited breathing as Mindy eased the dress off her arms and shoulders, stripping her to the waist except for her bra.
"Mindy! Nooooo... stop," Joan moaned.
Mindy ignored her. She and the boys gaped at Joan's large firm tits, which looked ready to burst from her delicate lace bra. Mom always tried to hide her gorgeous tits by wearing loose plain clothing, but now they were revealed for everyone to see. Joan blushed hotly and tried to free her arms, but it was no use. The kids had her right where they wanted her.
Mindy unhooked her bra, and Joan whimpered in protest, blushing even harder, but of course she got no response. Mindy tossed the the bra aside, and Joan heard her sons' sudden intake of breath as her firm, naked tits sprang free. She'd never been so embarrassed in her life.
"Jeeeeesus," Eddie breathed.
"Wanna play with them?" Mindy grinned.
"Hey, yeah," he said, "take my place, Sis."
Joan gasped in shock as Mindy took Eddie's place, holding down her left shoulder, and the boy came around to face his mother. He was grinning eagerly, and his cock was hard. It jiggled obscenely in front of his belly. Joan tried not to look at it, but her eyes were glued to the big thick, prick. Her eldest son's cock was even bigger than her husbands!
Eddie grabbed his mother's gorgeous tits, cupping and squeezing them, and Joan gasped even louder. To her embarrassment, her nipples went stiff against his palms.
"Oh, wowwww," grinned Eddie. "You like that, don't you, Mom?"
"Eddie, please," Joan whimpered, "You know this is wrong."
"Bullshit, Mom!" he said hoarsely. "If it feels good, do it... that's our new motto!"
"Yeah, Mom," Mindy put in, "why don't you just relax and enjoy it?"
That was just what Joan was trying to avoid. She was afraid that if she let herself go, she'd reveal just how turned on and excited she was. She mustn't ever let her children know that their wicked games had aroused her. She struggled to keep her face grim and her body stiff as Eddie blissfully fondled her big creamy tits. It wasn't easy, though. She'd always wanted to have her tits squeezed and pinched like this, ever since she and Ben were courting.
Eddie had a big happy grin on his face, not a trace of guilt, as he fondled his mother's hot silky-skinned tits. Joan could tell by the hot pressure of the hands on her shoulders that Mindy and Roy were getting very excited as they watched him. Joan herself was too excited for her own good. She had to admit it felt wonderful to have her sensitive tits squeezed and caressed.
Then it got even better. Eddie dipped his head down, stuck out his tongue, and began licking her nipples. It was all Joan could do to stifle a groan of pleasure. Ben had never done that to her, and it felt marvelous. Her son's hot wet tongue lashed her nipples into full erection, leaving them long and taut and supersensitive. She felt her pussy begin to moisten, and she couldn't do a damn thing about it.
Eddie firmed his lips around the tip of his mother's right nipple and sucked the stiff bud into his mouth. Joan stifled another moan as she felt little stabs of pleasure that seemed to radiate right down to her helplessly creaming pussy. She closed her eyes and whimpered softly, struggling to hide her hot arousal. Eddie sucked both her nipples in turn, bringing his mother to a fever pitch of excitement.
"Let me do it now, Eddie," Roy begged.
"Okay, kid," Eddie sighed, "I guess that's only fair."
They changed placed, and Joan felt her younger son's hot hands closer over her tits. He was a little more awkward than Eddie, but just as eager. She bit her lip and smothered her little cries of pleasure as he fondled, licked and sucked her swollen tits. Soon, Joan didn't think she could take much more stimulation without losing control of herself, but the kids showed no sign of stopping. In fact they were just getting started.

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%trump1%lsquo;Wow,%trump1%lsquo; I thought, %trump1%lsquo;that is almost ten miles away this poor little guy must have been walking all night and day%trump1%lsquo;. I kissed his head and told him to go ahead and eat and he turned to eat his food. It%trump1%lsquo;s a good thing I heated up all the chili, he ate two bowels and most of the crackers, then sat back satisfied. His clothes were done and I had put them in the dryer. It was 10:00 and I%trump1%lsquo;m sure was past what must be his normal bedtime. As I cleaned up the kitchen he sat there and told me about his school and his teacher and friends. He seemed smart and talked much older than his 9 years, he also told me about other beatings he had gotten from his drunk father. He didn%trump1%lsquo;t have any other family that he knew about and his mother had died 3 years ago from a fall, I suspected it might have been something more than just a %trump1%quot;fall%trump1%quot;, especially if his old man was as mean as he seemed to be. I still could not believe anyone could be that mean to a little boy, but it happens every day, unfortunately. real young girls sex videos
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%trump1%quot;Mommy just lost her job, Billy. Plus, she has to move out of her apartment. So, she is really upset and confused right now.%trump1%quot; I told him.

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Three of my close buddies were around to celebrate my 18th birthday, four days after the actual event. We were hanging in the back yard where a couple of old, heavy trunked trees shaded much of the yard and partly obstructed the back windows of the house from the grassy patch where we were relaxing a few outdoor chairs. A portable ice box was crammed with a case of beer heaped in slowly melting ice. A lemon tree was in the center of the grass, just a little off from where we were seated.
Like the beer we were chilled, slowly swigging the beer and talking a whole lot of crap about our future, sex-filled, adventures we were anticipating in college. Liberated and lubricated by long neck cold beers, the conversation concentrated on two topics normal for boys on the cusp of manhood. Sex along with sports. The latter took up most of our spare time and it was what we talked about.
At the back of the house, away from prying eyes we could, at least, enjoy a beer or two along with exaggerations of sex we hadn't had and sports successes that often alluded us. The trees meant none of us needed to go inside if we needed to piss. The wide branches of the lemon tree were more convenient and the other trees gave us privacy.
Sometimes, as more bottles were drained, the stories and our imaginations expanded, far beyond reality. As the afternoon sun got hotter, we drained more bottles and the stories got wilder. It was all good fun, each knew the others were telling stories further down the road from reality - for both sex and sports.
Flip flops, shorts and tees were what we four were wearing. It was that sort of day. My mom, when she brought out a couple of plates of snacks, was wearing a free flowing white summer dress and sandals. None of us paid particular attention to her when she came out laden with the snacks that went with our beer. She was my mom and the three guys were around my home enough to know her and give her the respect of being my mom.
My mom didn't mind our drinking, if it was in the back yard and no one was going to drive. As we all lived a short distance from each other, that was never an option. Her and I lived alone, dad was a distant memory for both of us and there was never any longing from me to see his shadow move across our doorway.
She was Philippa and I was Ian. She worked in middle level downtown corporate, was in her early 40's, just a little shorter than my 5'11", light auburn hair cropped to mid neck, with bright green eyes that dominated her soft and attractive face. About a size 12, she dressed well and smart during the week, relaxed on weekends. She never showed great interest in dating, although there were a few work-oriented outings and receptions where she enjoyed male company. Nothing serious ever developed to my knowledge and most weekend she was around the house or at her gym, which kept her toned. She always happy to see my buddies.
After a few hours, the guys headed for their respective homes and I chilled out on a comfortable outdoor chair with a beer in my hand. As they left they yelled goodbyes to mom in the direction of the kitchen window and disappeared around the side of the house. It was quiet and getting hotter and I had no real inclination to move.
"I'm just getting changed," I head mom call out from the kitchen, "and while I'm doing that you can bring in your empty bottles and plates."
It was the last thing I felt like doing but mom being mom I knew I'd better. I waited a bit but then I pushed up from the chair, gather some empties and plates and wandered towards the kitchen.
Plates went into the dishwasher and empties to the recycling. I was bent over dumping the empties when she came back in.
It took a couple of seconds to realize that the flowing white dress with the big yellow flowers had been replaced by pink shorts and a tee. On her feet were two inch heeled plastic sandals.
Relaxed by the beer I saw the shorts were a little tight and showed off her ass in a way I'd never noticed before. Perfectly shaped and peach-like, outlined by the tiny panties that were obvious, with the zipper at the back highlighting and accentuating the hint of a valley between her two cheeks. The white tee was stretched tight across her smallish breasts, again highlighting femininity. She was obviously bra less and I'd never looked at my Mom or noticed her in this way in the past. Sure, on some mornings I'd seen her in a petticoat over her bra, panties and stockings before she slipped on a skirt, blouse and jacket as she got ready for work. That had never made a real impact but today she did.
What I'd seen on those previous mornings left me oblivious because the self-centered arrogance of youth precluded acknowledgment of any physical or sexual attributes of a parent. She was my Mom and that was that.
But in the kitchen on that hot summer Saturday there was a difference. In front of me was an attractive woman, dressed to show herself to perfection with more than just a little erotic hint.
"Ian," she said looking up from the sink directly at me, "would you do me a favor?"
"Sure. What?"
"When your friends are over, ask them to use the bathroom."
"What do you mean?"
"You know exactly what I mean. If they want to go to the bathroom then that's where they can go and not on the edge of the lemon tree."
"Oh," I said. "You saw?"
"I glanced out the kitchen window a couple of time and," she stopped and paused a few seconds. "What else could I see but them."
"You glanced?" I said feigning surprise, "you were watching"
"No," she replied quickly, "I was not watching. I just glanced out a couple of times."
Seeing attack was the best defense, I quickly same back: "You were watching." The emphasis on the 'were'.
"Did you have a good look?" I added with a bit of sarcasm, which she ignored.
Closing off the conversation from her point of view she quipped: "Just get them to use the bathroom."
I laughed and repeated: "You were watching."
She gave up a turned back to the sink giving me a perfect view of the tight shorts covering her ass. The distinct panty line showed that beneath the shorts was something skimpy. I took in the view, enjoying the tight pink shorts and imagining what was underneath them. I'd never looked at her like that before and it was a strange feeling.
"Anyhow," I said not wanting to dismiss the idea that she'd been watching all of us as we went around the lemon tree, "Jimmy says it's good for the tree, adds acid to the soil."
"Jimmy," she said turning around, her hands on her hips and the tee shirt hugging her tits, showing that while they might be small they were firm and looked good. "Well, you'd expect Jimmy to say that. He's always got an angle."
By now we were both laughing and I relaxed knowing that she was not about to throw drama about where we had pissed. She seemed more playful than usual, perhaps even a little coquettish, something I'd not seen before.
"But I think," she added, unable to give away making her point, "you'd better get the hose out." There was a smile more like a smirk when she finished her point with: "You can dilute some of that acid. Too much and you might kill the tree."
With nothing left to banter, I nodded. But before I did go outside, I slipped into my bedroom and, on some inexplicable impulse, I took off both my shorts and boxers and only put my shorts back on. That my cock was almost free of restraint was both sensual and erotic. I didn't know why I did it but I just did. It may have been the effects of the beer or the sun or maybe I just wanted to feel the unrestrained freedom. After that I went outside to grab the hose and do what she'd asked.
I was liberally hosing around the edge of the lemon tree when she came out of the house and, in another surprise, she grabbed one of the remaining bottles of beer out of the ice box. Twisting off the top she settled into one of the chairs and sipped the beer as she watched me.
"You know," she said, resting the cold bottle on her thigh, "when I was a kid we used to play under the hose on hot days. It was the only way to keep cool."
"You used to hose me when I was younger," I replied. "I remember that. Also, running under the sprinkler."
"Better than a swimming pool," she said, "although we were never able to afford a pool."
Holding the hose where the water was coming out in a soft spray I looked at her and smiled.
"What?" she asked.
"Stand up," I suggested.
"Why?"
"Because I want to relive a bit of my younger days and yours."