♪ Riding with Mom ♪

My father promised me a trip when I finished college. He said it was a good idea to stay away from everything to get a chance to reset your mind. I knew my father had traveled in his youth, so I was well prepared to know where he would send me at his expense. I had visions of reaching all sunspots, VISA and drink in hand, and girls waiting to take their places. Ahhh, but not so fast, Roger. The Promised Land does not always meet your expectations. Turns out my trip around the world was an eight-day horse trip with Mom and Dad Hamilton. That's right. After four years of college, right after I left school, my rite of passage was to go for a walk with Mom and Dad on the back of some sweaty, boring old man scaring off his butt. Swelling! My father, seeing my disappointment, confided that this was my mother's idea, that she really wanted us to be together for the last family vacation. I should, under no circumstances, demonstrate anything but the greatest enthusiasm for my mother's sake. After all, he said: “I think you will find this much more rewarding than you think.” He followed these prophetic words with an additional promise to finance a trip to Europe if I behaved and made Mother happy during the journey. So I resigned myself to another week's hard work. After all, I managed to finish college by telling myself I could handle anything for four years. What's another week and a half? As the time of the journey drew near, I discovered, not surprisingly, that the adventure on horseback was actually my father’s idea, something he always wanted to do. Mom wanted us all to go to Europe. But my father usually got what he wanted, usually granting himself brownie points by satisfying others' wishes while doing so. That's how we ended up at the foot of the Rocky Mountains on three horses stocked for ten days of solitude in the jungle. Neither Mother nor I were happy to know that we were alone in nature, without guides. Along the way there were rustic huts equipped with sleeping bags, feed, feed for horses and other supplies. We carried only our clothes and emergency supplies in our saddlebags. And then we leave. My father leading the way, full of vigor in his shining steed, followed by his less ecstatic troop aboard his gentle horses, as it suits his inferior equestrian experience. In the afternoon, I had to admit that the landscape was stunning. Waveling alpine meadows splattered with flowers against a scenario of snowy peaks that I had only seen in photos and films. Completely strange and wonderful compared to the corn fields at home. Along the way, we stopped to eat, lying in the wild fields, once beside a small stream, enjoying the spectacular beauty that surrounded us at all points of the horizon. I started to feel like maybe this trip wasn't so bad after all. Although we left late that morning, we easily arrived at the cabin where we would spend our first night, situated on a hillside inside a forest. We sat outside, in the primitive wooden chairs, drinking wine as night fell, contemplating the valley below and the steep peaks beyond. It was a very romantic setting, and I offered to set up a tent if Mom and Dad wanted the cabin to themselves. Mom laughed, saying there would be no need for that. Dad seemed uncomfortable and discontented, murmuring something and getting up to walk away a little to enjoy the view on his own. Mom said calmly: "Things have changed a bit since you went to college, honey. Your father needs to do this. He's not the man he used to be." She entered without further explanation. Feeling a little strange, I checked to see if the horses were safe in the little corral and then I went to the cabin myself. When I came in, Mom was sticking herself in the sleeping bag in one of the handmade rustic bunks. All the dormitories were in the same room. In the penumbra of the lantern, the shadows played over her bare arms and legs, and the sheath of her shirt was pulled up when she stuck her feet in the bag. She partially zipped the side of the sleeping bag, leaving an open flap in her belly, the pink cotton material resting gently on her breasts as she leaned on the right elbow, facing me. "Try to make your father happy on this trip, Roger. It's very important to him." "I know, Mom. I'll go." She lay her arm over her forehead, stretching her shirt over her breasts. “Oh, God, I am rigid,” she said. "I'll be sore tomorrow." So did I, but not just because of the horse. With the excuse to visit abroad, I left, passing by Dad on the way out. "Good night, son. Take a look at the horses, will you?" "Of course, Dad," I replied, quickly going through the back door to him to hide the horny that exploded in my pants so suddenly when I saw my mother. My face was red. This has never happened before. Why would I be hard to see my mother in a sweater, something I've probably seen a hundred times before? It was ridiculous! Outside, my dick refused to diminish, and my mother's image lying, with her arm covering her eyes while her breasts pressed her pink flannel sweater light, was recorded in my HDTV vision in real colors. Walking to the other side of the little choir, I pulled my dick out of my jeans and quickly masturbated to the grass. It didn't take long. I was glad it was dark when I got back to the cabin. I went to my bunk without lighting the flashlight. I opened my eyes to the sun coming through the window and through the open door. Mom was making breakfast on the little stove propane from the cabin. Dad wasn't in sight, going for a morning walk, I assumed. Mom was still dressed just in her pink sweater. I had not made so much noise when I woke up and kept lying still, looking at her as she moved. The shirt fell to the middle of the back, lower than the front, and the sheath was at the height of the middle of the thigh, showing its legs tanned and well exercised. Mom was a very nice woman for her 40s, very nice. There was something basic, almost primordial, being alone in a cabin in the mountains with an attractive woman. My dick started to swell. I turned on my stomach, forcing my rigidity against the wooden bunk, closing my eyes as my mother turned to look at me. When I opened them cautiously, a moment later, she was next to her bunk, fishing in her backpack. She took off new panties. Lifting her shirt up a little bit, she took a sip of her hands underneath and slipped her old panties down her legs, coming out of them and pulling the new one up and putting it in place. I had a brief glimpse of your bare ass as the change took place. Then she took her riding pants and pulled them under her shirt, squeezing them tight. Looking over her shoulder towards me, she pulled her shirt over her head, stretching her arms right up, giving me a wonderful view of her smooth back, her narrow waist opening up to her hips and a hint of the side of her body. the right breast, leaning and then jumping as she lowered her arms and threw her shirt in the bunk. Taking the bra from the backpack, she slipped her arms through it and pulled it forward, tightening her breasts. I could clearly hear the pressure buttons in place, the room was so quiet. Finally, she took the pullover and put it on, pulling it right down. When she turned around to check out breakfast, I pretended to wake up, maybe a little too obvious. "Oh, there's my boy. Finally. Come on, get up and hit them." When I hesitated, looking around, she said: "Don't be shy, I won't spy. Anyway, I don't think there'll be much room for privacy on this trip." Fortunately, she turned her back on me while I was getting dressed because my dick didn't listen to my silent reprimands. As soon as I got my jeans, I went rigidly out, shirt in hand. "A little sore, as I see it," Mother laughed as I went limping through the door, attributing my strange gate to the wounds of the saddle. After breakfast we rode out. We expected a five - hour trip to reach the next cabin, following a gentle ascent trail through grasslands and small pine groves, as well as the day before. The landscape was even more fantastic than the day before, getting better and better as we climbed the mountainside. We haven't found anyone. This occurred intentionally, since suppliers only allowed one group to leave every two days. We were practically guaranteed a trip with nature just for us. When we stopped for lunch, we searched again for our wine stock. I mean, Mom and I did. Dad couldn't stop walking around. Mom and I lie on our blankets, leaning on our elbows, drinking wine, talking and looking around. It was a soul cleanse, that's for sure. My mind did not feed thoughts beyond what I could see, and when Mother lay down, covering her eyes with her arm, allowing me to pass mine freely over her figure, my thoughts remained very close indeed. I couldn't understand why I was looking at my mother so much. Why I kept getting excited looking at her, as I did during much of the morning walk while watching her ass swing in the saddle in front of me. Is it because she was the only woman around? She had done nothing to encourage me, although she definitely had a figure worth observing. The elastic riding pants clung to the upper legs and hips, delineating their buttocks in detail and clearly shaping the hill in front. The tight T-shirt she wore also exhibited her other feminine charms which, although not large, were firm and flexible, and clearly did not stray far from the best days of her youth despite the civil years of her host. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" Scared, I swerved my eyes from Mom's breast to her eyes, who were watching me, protected from the sun by the shelled hand leaning on her forehead. "What?" "There's a real beauty here, isn't there?" "Yes," I stuttered while recovering enough to say, "Yes, there is." Did she notice what I was looking at? Had I been saved by the sun in her eyes? At that moment, Dad came out of the trees 50 feet away. "Come on, get ready," he screamed. Mom and I fought hard to get up. “First I have to visit nature,” Mother said and walked towards the trees. "You'll have to catch up with him then," Dad replied, then to me, "Sell Mom's horse and stay with her. I'm gonna explore the front and stretch this filly. These plugs of yours can crawl along the back." “Okay, Dad. Let's go together." Mom emerged from the trees and waved to Dad while he trotted. She approached and put something in her saddlebag and then fought to ride her horse. “Roger, give me a hand. These old bones cannot do this alone.” I walked up to her and tried to lift her by her elbow. "No, give me a push. Come on, don't be shy and give my ass a little push." She got up on the stirrup and started getting up. I lowered my open hand and pressed her against the bottom of her ass as she began to stand up, pushing up until she could step her leg over the saddle. "Thank you, sir. I think I need a little push every time I ride this damn horse," she laughed while inciting her horse to walk. I quickly climbed on my horse a little more agile and put it into action, reaching it and pulling it side by side so that we could ride side by side. There was something different about Mom, but I couldn't identify what it was. We ride in silence, Mother watching the scenery on my right, but without turning around, sitting in the saddle. Then I realized. Her breasts went up and down freely, swinging along with the swing of the horse. A flash of your entry into the saddlebag came to mind. She took off her bra while she was in the trees doing her business! My dick swelled, throbbing against my jeans. She kept riding, at a perfect angle for me to observe her breasts in her erotic dance, and her face turned. Was she giving me a show? It's not impossible. "Oh, God, it's so beautiful, it's so stimulating," she suddenly screamed with a hoarse voice as she pulled her elbows back to rest on the back of the saddle behind her, throwing her head back, arching her back and pushing her breasts up, the nipples expressing themselves strongly against the thin material of her shirt. I looked, riding with my head moving up and down at the rhythm of the jump of your breasts. "That makes me feel so good." I couldn't agree more. Despite the chance that she would suddenly look at me and catch me looking, I kept my eyes fixed on her. She kept riding, leaning further back, almost lying on the horse's back. His shirt came out of his riding pants, exposing his belly with just a touch of blonde and messy hair reflecting sunlight. What a sight. She seemed to be part of the wild landscape as she swayed beside me, until we could hear my father returning towards us. Mom got up at the first sound of his hooves approaching, pulling her shirt down. "Come on, guys. You wouldn't believe the set ahead." He turned around us and went off in a fire again, leaving us quickly behind. As Mother watched him disappear, she turned to me, smiling: "I think you and I will have a lot of fun on this trip." She laughed, a deep, hoarse laugh, and sparked her horse to trot. I tried to reach her to continue my remarks, but my candidate for the glue factory was not up to the task. Every once in a while, Mom teased me, turning to laugh: Can't you keep up, boy? We stopped for a snack when we reached Dad almost an hour later. He was waiting on a corner that gave for an incredible view of steep peaks. Dad waited for us to absorb everything. When we got ready to leave, I reached out to help Mom ride again, but she refused, saying quickly: "I can get up myself, thank you. I'm not that old. " Disappointed, I rode and stood behind Mom, walking hard. The journey went smoothly and was not particularly exciting. Beautiful country, of course, but I was more interested in living landscapes with forms of captivating movement than in landscapes. So, Mom seemed tired. She leaned over the horse's neck, with her hands falling on her shoulders and grabbing the mane. She seemed to be resting. But the interesting side effect was that, when leaning forward, his ass was on display, the tan openings tightening his cheeks and clearly delineating his panties. It was as if she were kneeling on all fours, blatantly displaying her ass in tempting and repetitive small swing movements. My eyes stuck to your ass all the way to the next cabin. That night was a repeat of the night before. We sat outside, under the pleasant, dwindling sun, as darkness fell upon us. Dad got up and went to bed, leaving the flashlight on, but turning the light down. Mom stayed behind until we heard Dad snoring quietly. She didn't talk, and neither did I. I was tense, but I didn't know if she was talking. I was confused about the events of the day and I didn't know what to think of them. So I didn't do anything. Finally, Mom got up and said: "Let's go to bed, honey. Let's go." I was hoping she'd come in and get in the sleeping bag first, but I did what she asked, following her. Dad was sleeping facing the wall with his equipment scattered around him in bed. There was no room for Mom to put the sleeping bag in, unless she woke him up to get his stuff out of the way. Mom went to the other double bunk against the opposite wall, "I think we're there, tiger," she whispered. She opened the sleeping bag on the edge, whispering to me over her shoulder: "I like it out there." So she sat in her bunk and signaled me to take off my riding boots. I took off both boots, but she kept both feet up, so I took off my socks and threw them on the floor, too. Still, she kept her legs up, keeping them together. With a soft smile on her face, she whispered so quietly that I could barely hear her: "I need help taking that off too, and Dad's out of service." I grabbed the bottom of each leg and pulled, pulling several times, almost pulling it out of the bed. She laughed as I pulled her pants, stronger and stronger, trying to take them off. The resistance ended when his pants passed through his hips and suddenly slipped quickly down his legs toward me, exposing his legs to the bar of his shirt. His pants piled around his ankles, his bare feet leaning on my thighs. She slowly took her left foot out of her pants, lifting her knee, which spread her legs long enough for me to see under her shirt until her panties were between her legs. She put her left foot on the floor, leaving her right foot on my leg. She looked at me, tilting her head slightly to the side, and said: "Give me my pants, honey." I lifted her foot off my thigh and took off my pants, and then I stood there, looking at her with my pants on one hand and my foot on the other. Although I knew she was looking at me, I couldn't help but look at her panties. I even moved her foot to my side, without thinking, to spread her legs and reveal more. I was having trouble breathing. I pushed her leg out and her knee back towards her, spreading her legs and stretching her panties harder against her. She let me do it. I was frozen, my eyes caught in the rift that appeared slightly in front of his panties, my dick swelling hard against my jeans. Her voice scared me, partly because it brought me back to reality, and partly because I wasn't angry. "I need my foot if you want to go to bed, honey." I looked at her face, she was smiling. Strictly, I let go of her foot and she shook her legs to stick her feet in the sleeping bag, bending them at knee level to do that. Although she didn't need to, she spread her legs wide, pushing her shirt up to her hips and completely exposing her pink panties. As she slowly pushed her legs into the bag, they gradually closed, but the shirt did not cover her panties again and she did not pull the sleeping bag to cover herself. "You'll have to undress yourself," she laughed at that hoarse laugh again, one I hadn't heard until today. "Don't forget to turn out the light." I turned off the flashlight, but the cabin was still lit by moonlight. I quickly took off my shirt, boots, socks and jeans, turning to hide my swollen dick, since she was lying on my side, watching me. I found my sleeping bag and stretched it behind Mom, having no choice but to lean on her to do that. I desperately hoped that the faint light would hide the protruding erection against my shorts. Mom didn't say anything. I climbed over her and clumsyly entered my purse, nestling and lying on my side, facing her back. In a few minutes, she sat, facing her feet. “I am very hot,” she said. Crossing her arms to opposite sides on her waist, she grabbed the bar of the shirt and pulled it up and over her head, her hair falling on her shoulders as she threw it on the floor. She hadn't turned around. I looked at their breasts as they slowly jumped into a stoppage, the nipples protruding in the moonlight. Mom sat there for several moments. Then she stretched her arms back, leaning her hands on the bed and bowing her back, as she had done on the horse's back that afternoon. "I feel so alive here," she whispered. I didn't know if she was talking to me or if she thought I was facing the wall. I stood as still as I could, hoping nothing would change, that the world would remain as it was. I couldn't believe how the inclination of her breasts, the curve of her lower parts, the protrusion of her nipples, were much more beautiful than all the incredible nature she had observed that day. I could have kept looking at them forever and I can still repeat every minute of movement in my mind, even now. Suddenly, she turned to me, reaching out her right hand to gently dissipate my hair. "It's beautiful, isn't it, darling? Are you glad you came?" I shook my head, too numb to talk. " Me too, honey." She leaned over to kiss my forehead, her breasts pushing on either side of my cheeks, her nipples rubbing my nose and lips as she walked away a little bit. "Give me some bumps if you need to wake me up," she said, "you know, if you need to get up." She nestled in her purse. Turning away from me, she pushed back until her ass was pressed against me. "Keep me warm tonight, honey." I snuck closer to her, but I kept my wandering hardon pulled back. I've been out of sleep for a long time, thinking of her body, dressed only in pink panties, pressed against me between our sleeping bags. I kept my arm around her until I fell asleep, holding her against me. I woke up at night, reaffirming my dominance and pulling it to me. My dick had somehow freed itself from the limits of my shorts. If she wasn't asleep, she'd have to feel it, but she didn't move. Cautiously, I pushed a little harder against your ass. When she still hasn't responded, I pushed again, with a little more firmness. No reaction. I repeated the action several times, slowly not to wake her up, but more and more firmly, and I was pushed against her for longer too. I could always claim I was trying to wake her up, I thought, as you suggest. Why did she give me such a convenient excuse? I lost this line of thought while gently pushing and slowly burying my dick in my mother's ass through the sleeping bag material. I kept grinding and holding my dick against her until I got there, gushing all over the inside lining of my purse. It wasn't until after the final outbreak that I came to my senses. She didn't move or answer at all, thank God, but she wasn't breathing like she was sleeping either. She was very, very quiet. I fell back and finally fell asleep in my own mess. When I woke up, my father had left again and my mother was preparing breakfast. She was wearing a new, long T-shirt that went down her ass. I guess that's all she was wearing, since the material was fine white cotton and I couldn't see the line of any panties underneath, and she clearly wasn't wearing a bra. Her breasts leaned slightly down, standing from the belly against the shirt, the protruding nipples as small steep peaks. Mom's legs were muscular. I could see the tense muscles along the outside of her thigh and the stiffening of her calf muscles as she moved barefoot. Finally, she turned around and saw I was awake. She approached me, leaned over and gave me a big kiss on the forehead and then, to my surprise, right in my mouth. But she acted like nothing was out of order. "Hey, sleepyhead, it's about time. Dad's been up for hours. He couldn't wait, so I told him to go ahead. Get up and eat while I seal the horses." Mom took the boots and put them on, then walked out the front door. I got up, put on my jeans and ate. As soon as I was finished, she came back, took a riding skirt out of her backpack and put it over her boots, sticking her shirt inside her. She wrapped her sleeping bag, took her backpack and told me to hurry. Then she laughed and said: "There are clean sleeping bags in the closet." Shocked and ashamed, yet I did what she said and ran after her. She must have known what I was doing last night. She couldn't be asleep. But she let that happen. Holy shit! Mom was already on the trail. I rode my horse and ran after her. We rode for several hours before Dad showed up behind us. He had gone on a little adventure on a sidetrack. About half an hour later we stopped for a brief lunch. Dad was looking forward to going because he wanted us to do another sidetrack because the one he had just done was really cool. And we did. It was a longer circuit, overnight in a more remote cabin in the middle of the circuit. An hour after lunch, Mom's horse got lame. Dad looked at the horse, lifting his foot, examining the hull and so on. “Well, we can’t do anything here,” he said. "You two will have to bend. You have to take things slow here," he said, "You can't complain about things, you just have to deal with them." He seemed almost happy with the opportunity to “face the challenge.” So Mom stood up in front of me and we tied a guide for her horse to follow. Dad led the way. Folding soon became uncomfortable for me. Mom's ass was right against my dick, moving against him at every oscillating step of the horse. I couldn't help but feel a huge erection. After a while, she leaned over the horse’s neck, grabbing her mane to balance, as she had the day before. This lifted your ass, allowing me to adjust even further under it, closer to your pussy. Soon, unable to contain myself, I began to swing my groin forward into it, thinking I could blame the horse's movement. Mom didn't call me to the task, so I got bolder until I shook her hard enough to push her forward a little bit along the horse's neck. She turned her head to look at me. Oh, oh, I thought, I'll take it now. But she just said, "'Grab me so I don't fall." I put my hands loosely around her waist to firm her, but she put her hands on my wrists and pulled them forward, above her waist, until my hands grabbed the sides of her chest, right next to the curve of her breasts. Mother turned her head to the horse's neck and grabbed her mane again. I slipped my hands further and slipped my fingers around the front of your breasts, spreading my fingers on each side of the nipple of each breast. I pushed my dick into it. She squeezed her legs on the shoulders of the horse and raised her ass higher, providing even greater access to my bulky jeans. The lump there matched the back of his pussy, and I pushed hard to make contact. I stood in the stirrups and started pushing against her, swinging her forward. There was no doubt about the horse's movements now, I was fucking my mother and she was letting me do it. I leaned forward, leaning my head behind your back, increasing the rhythm of my impulses, holding your breasts in my hands. Panting out of control, I finally came, pulling her back hard on my jeans-covered dick. I walked away. Dad was way ahead. For all I know, he never looked back. Mother lay as she was, still clinging to the horse's mane, breathing heavily. She hadn't come. I kept her waiting. Dad stayed with us for a while, but soon he accelerated the pace, advancing more and more. I looked at Mom, leaning forward, still breathing heavily. I grabbed the back of her riding skirt and pulled it out until she got loose under it. I lifted her up and looked at her ass, at the line of her panties as she disappeared into the crack of her ass. The saddle down was slippery because of the juice. I slipped my right hand down, putting it in a shell and pushing it against your ass, sliding forward with my fingers along the bottom of your pussy. "No, ah, no!" She tried to get up, but I kept her down with her left hand pressing her back. "No, Roger, no!" I ignored her, sliding my fingers back and forth from her ass to her pussy, pushing her further and further forward until soon I was in heat through the crack between her lips to her clitoris. I rubbed back and forth, back and forth, finishing when my thumb pressed between your cheeks on your little pink button. I grabbed her hair and pulled her back. She closed her knees and pushed her ass up, giving me more space to attack her pussy with my hand, stopped moving, holding my finger on her clitoris and crushing the palm bridge against the lips of her pussy, moving in a very small way. circle, but firmly pushing against it. She was grunting. She started fucking with my hand. "oh, oh, oh, unngghhhh, unngghhhh, unnnggghhhh, unngghhhh" until she groaned constantly. She got so wild, I thought she was gonna throw herself off the horse. Christ, Dad probably hasn't fucked her in a long time. I knew he was older than her, but did he stop fucking her completely? How long before she gets so horny? Finally, she came. She grabbed my hand hard, squeezing it on random and involuntary wrists, while continuing with small fuck movements, slowing down until still. She tried to get up, but I stopped her. Leaning, I whispered in his ear: "You're beautiful, you're so beautiful." I walked away and pulled it with me. I leaned back on the saddle, pulling it with me, my arm around your waist. Your head fell back against my shoulder, turning to the side. "Isn't it beautiful, Mom? Don't you love it here?" She stood still for a moment and then answered me: "Yes, I love it, I love it." Further ahead, I could see that Dad had disassembled for the afternoon break. Assembly. Dismounting. The words echoed in my head. I had some ideas for tonight. Mother showed no discomfort or embarrassment during our afternoon snack. Her face was red, making her look more beautiful than ever. Dad mentioned that the outside air seemed to really please her. She laughed at an explosion of genuine, hoarse humor. "Maybe," she said, "I think I'm just enjoying being alone with my men," she laughed again, standing up and dancing towards the trees. "You're doing a great job, son. You're really making your mother happy. Keep it up." "Oh, I will, Dad. I like to see Mom so happy." I got up and went to my saddlebag. "I have to put on shorts, Dad, it's so hot." "Well, let's get going," he said while Mom was coming back. I was just pulling my shorts up. She smiled at me as she approached, with a little shine in her eyes. "Is Pant getting tensed by all this fun? Getting a little stiff, aren't you?" She laughed when she climbed on the stirrup and put her leg over the saddle. When Dad started, she said: "Come on, stay in front of me." I stopped and looked. She laughed: "I'm just kidding. Stay behind me, where you belong. But behave yourself, you rascal." She laughed again. While I was settling behind her, Mother casually reached out to pull the back of the skirt under her and let her fall on the sides of the saddle, on her legs and mine. Taking the reins, she started us. She leaned on me, turned her head and kissed me on the chin, then bit him with her lips and teeth. "We have at least another two hours riding, tiger. What are we gonna do?" Then she laughed again. "Tonto," she screamed, "Tonto." I reached your waist, sliding my hands up to bear the weight of your breasts. I grabbed a chest in each hand, gently squeezing them, pinching their nipples, pulling them out. "Stop it," she kindly scolded me, "your father can change at any time." I walked away from my hands, got down and slipped both under his skirt, out of sight, over his hips and in front of his thighs. I pulled them back to me, letting my fingers push between their legs, which were wide open on the saddle. She wasn't wearing panties anymore. I pushed deep and covered every lip of the pussy with my fingers, then I gently separated them, spreading their pussy well. "We have at least two hours. Don't be in such a hurry." I didn't answer. My breath was dragged into the cavity of your neck. "You really need this, don't you?" she asked. I didn't say anything again. "Well, I know how it is. Okay, honey, okay." I pushed my fingers back, diving into his wide, wet hole. So I pulled them slowly, dragging their slippery lips. Then go back inside, and out, and in, and out, again and again. My breath was hoarse and hers started to match mine. I pushed two fingers out of each hand and held them there, pulling their wider pussy. She was very excited. I whispered with a hoarse voice to his ear: "I need to fuck you!" I started pushing her forward. "No, Daddy's right there. He could turn around." She stood up, pushing the horse's neck. “Stay on the stirrups,” I said. She did. Getting down, unbuttoned my shorts, pulling my dick too hard out with great difficulty. I put my hand under your skirt again, sliding my hands to grab you by your hips. I shrunk under it, my dick exploding like a little flagpole. I pulled her on me. "No, Roger, ah, no," she screamed, in an unconvincing way, since I had just said I needed to have sex with her. I kept her pulled down while poking her dick. Finally, the head found its groove and shoved its ugly face into its beautiful, smoking wet pussy. I completely slipped into her, into her fist. It looked like a long slide, she was so hot and wet, and beautiful! "Ohhhhh, Roger, ohhhhh, Rog, ohhhhhhh." That's the best sound I've heard in these mountains, as far as I'm concerned. She kept making her little sounds. I kept myself totally connected to her, happy to let the horse move our fuck. I looked at my father, riding ahead and upstairs. If he looked back, there was nothing to see, except me sitting behind Mom. I slipped my hand and grabbed the front of your pussy under my skirt. We rode together, swinging together, pussy and dick, pussy and dick. Time slowed down to align with our soft but intense fuck. It was all friction, balance and friction. I was totally in it and I never walked away. She never got up. We were connected to the end all the time. I don't know how long it took, but it was a long time. It was probably the longest fuck of my life. We just rode my dick into your pussy, my finger slowly circling around your clitoris. She got more and more wet, soaking me and the saddle. I started pulsing my dick, tensioning my muscles and swelling in your pussy. She loved it, and so did I. Finally, I felt her trying to squeeze my dick, but her legs were too wide. I could feel his buttocks twitching into cheeky little muscle spasms. She really started drenching me. I started pouring into her again and again and again and again. I've never come this far. We both relax, still riding, my dick writhing periodically inside her. Eventually I softened and fell on her, but we kept our crotchs soaked and sticky firmly together. After a while, Mom showed up and kissed me again. She laughed, "Well, I think you fucked me. Is that what you call Rogering?", and she laughed loudly. Dad turned and looked at us, smiled and kept walking. "I'll show you a real rogering tomorrow, Mom, or tonight. Whenever we have a chance." "Is that a threat? I can't wait," she laughed again. "Neither do I," I replied, but with a more serious intention. I don't think Mom knew what a rogering really was, but now that she mentioned it, I intended to show her. That night, Dad threw his sleeping bag in the same bed as Mom, his inside. He was the first to sleep, as always, facing the wall and snoring quietly. After Mom washed and prepared to sleep, she gave me a good night hug, standing there in the middle of the room under the moonlight, wearing only a long shirt that barely covered her ass, with my father lying behind. Hers. I took her in my arms, sliding my arms over her body, wrapping her in a long, slow French kiss. My dick went up and lodged in his crotch, between his legs. She stood at the tip of her feet, accommodating my rod and tightening the lobe of my ear between her teeth, she whispered provocatively: "Roger wants to fuck me, doesn't he?" I shook her head. "Oh, you bad boy. That's so wicked." She took a step back, grabbed my dick through her shorts and pulled it as she walked away. She turned to bed and went down to get her purse. Taking a break, she turned to look at me, pulling her shirt over her hips, exposing her cheeks, swinging from side to side, her thighs together. "I'm not sure I can ride tomorrow," she said, "I'm so sore from rubbing that saddle, I think." She threw a big smile at me and stuck it in her purse. I sat in my bunk, facing her, slipped my boxer and sat with my dick standing like a pole, grabbed him and waved at her, smiling Not to be left behind, Mom sat down and pulled her shirt over her head. , throwing him in the bunk, arched his back and pushed his breasts out and up, his stiff nipples appearing in the night, OK, you win, she murmured to her, made a face and lay down to sleep. Faced with her, I was sure I could see her eyes shining in the faint light and fell asleep. I woke up with the smell of eggs and bacon. Mom was making breakfast again and Dad, as usual, was not in sight. Perfect. Even more perfect, Mom wasn't wearing a shirt, but she wasn't naked. She was wearing one of Dad's white shirts, not the T-shirt type, but the sleeveless kind. Her breasts literally projected into this thing, her nipples threatening to rip through the fine cotton material that clinged to her sides, sweeping the swelling of her belly and buttocks until it ended just below her ass. I couldn't believe she was wearing this in front of me with my dad around. "Come on, sit down, you're ready now. Come on, get up." I pulled myself out of the bag and staggered to the table where a plate and a cup of coffee were waiting. I just wore boxers, and when I sat down, I realized I was horny. I thanked God Dad didn't show up and I crawled under the table, hiding my wandering dick. My eyes turned to Mom, glued to the crack of her butt that drew a line between the dimples below her back to the bottom of her cheeks, visible through the cotton t-shirt. His legs were tanned and slightly muscular, reflecting the morning sun coming through the window and the open door, and his feet were barefoot. Mom brought a big black frying pan to the table and filled my plate with eggs and bacon. She came back with a pot of coffee after putting the empty frying pan back on the stove and filled my cup and hers. "You're not eating?" I asked. "I ate with Dad, sleepyhead," she replied. "Eat while it's hot." I guess she didn't want to talk, so I did what I was told. Mom took a sip of coffee and looked out the door. I let my eyes land on his chest, his breasts descending towards his belly, perfectly delineated by the tight shirt. My eyes followed to the bottom of the shirt that barely covered his pussy. "Do you find me attractive?" Scared, I looked up and found her looking right into my eyes. "Yes," I replied calmly. "Do you like looking at me?" "Yes," calmly again. "You can't let Dad see you. You know that, don't you?" "Yes, Mother." "You took a big risk yesterday. You could have ruined everything for all of us. Don't do that again. Do you understand?" "Yes, Mom, I understand." "Good," she smiled, a big generous smile, and her eyes softened. "Look," she said, her eyes falling into her lap. I followed your gaze to your beautiful thighs. "Look what you did to me." She spread her legs a little. She looked at me, questioning me. Franzi the forehead. She looked down, spreading her legs more. The t-shirt slipped when her legs split, more and more until she was wide open, her pussy showing off to my eyes. "See?" I just looked. My mother was sitting there, her legs wide open, showing me her pussy. I didn't know what she wanted me to see, but I said: "I'm sorry, Mom, did I hurt?" remembering her comment the night before. "Sore? Nope. Look closer." I looked. Yes, I could see your pussy, lightly covered by a shiny strip of brown hair, the lips of your pussy also glowing. Exhausted, she said: "I'm wet, silly. See what you do to me. It's so wrong, but I can't help it. I've never felt so alive. All my ant body when you look at me.I've been wet for three days." I reached out to touch her, but she rose quickly and retreated. "No, no. You finish eating and then come help me with the dishes." I took my dishes to the sink when I finished. Reaching her, I threw them in the sink. Getting a towel, I got a cup to dry. "No, no. Just leave them. Stay behind me and watch your father through the window." I did what she asked. She turned the water, but she wasn't actually washing. She'd only made a cup and a plate the whole time she was there. Clearly, washing dishes wasn't in your mind. I threw the towel on the counter next to the dish-washer. She turned her head slightly to look at him and then went back to the sink. I didn't do anything. Your hands have stopped spinning. She just stayed there. I reached out to grab the sides of the shirt and slipped it over his hips, exposing his ass and leaving his shirt piled up on his waist. I waited again, just watching your beautiful ass. Finally, I said: "Do you like it when I look at you?" "Yes." "Incline a little forward." She did, stretching her hands to the other side of the sink, still in the water. "Open your legs. Just a little bit." She dragged her bare feet a little to the side. "Why did you do it on the table? Did you want me to look?" "Yes." "Look at what?" "My pussy." "No," I said, grabbing your hair and gently pulling your head back. "When you spread your legs like that, it's not a pussy anymore, is it?" "No." "What is it?" "A pussy." "That's right. You wanted to show me, didn't you? You wanted to show your son, didn't you?" "Yes. I wanted to show you, show my pussy to my son. I can't help it." "You're a very naughty woman, Mom. You let me fuck you yesterday. You shook your ass in front of me. You knew what you were doing. And you let me fuck you. Right?" "Yes," she whistled. "You're gonna do more wicked things to me, aren't you?" "Yes." I didn't touch her, but her breathing became quick and deep as we talked. Mine too. I put the back of my hand on the counter next to her, putting her palm up. "Put some of that in my hand," I said with a firm, authoritarian voice, shaking her head towards the plastic Mazola oil bottle she used in the frying pan. She didn't question me. She raised her right hand and put some in my palm. “More,” I said. She pushed harder. I pulled my hand back, careful not to pour it, and turned it on the top of his right cheek, spreading it over his ass, holding the bottom and squeezing it, pushing Mazola into the flesh as I pressed it back up. . I put my hand back on the counter. Still holding the bottle, she filled my hand again without waiting for me to tell you. I brought him back and covered his left cheek with the slippery oil. After spreading it, I went to the other cheek and stroked it for a minute before coming back for another handful. I let it slip slowly into the crevice at the top of your ass, so, using the tip of my hand on the side of your thumb, I pressed between your cheeks, sliding up and down, making sure that the joint of my thumb swidled and even dug into your anus. " Give me a big handful, then push back and spread your legs." Once again, she did what she was told. I shoved the whole handful into the crack of your ass, then quickly shoved my hand between your cheeks, pressing the slippery goo against your pink button, and then moved my hand under your ass, putting it in a shell and taking the extra fluid. I pushed him back against his ass and rubbed him forward along the bottom of his pussy. The oil flowed through the inside of his thighs. I started massaging his pussy, back and forth, rubbing not quickly, but sliding firmly through his slippery slit. I started pushing my fingers further in and, when my hand was totally forward, I stretched my thumb up to its little back and pressed it. I did it again and again. I still held your hair with my left hand, keeping your head back, your face looking at the ceiling. She was breathing with great difficulty. She looked so amazing! I was now putting three fingers on her and pushing my thumb to the joint in each passage. She was incredibly slippery. She grunted a little bit every time my thumb pushed her little hole. "That's right, Mom. Grunt. I like the sound of that." I pushed it forward again, but this time I didn't stop my thumb in the first joint, I completely slipped it and held it there. She rewarded me with a longer grunt. Keeping my thumb completely inside it, I started moving it into a little circle. I pushed all my four fingers inside her and started pushing her in, pulling her back, but never out, because her ass followed my hand when she was pulled out. She really wanted it, at least her body wanted it. I pulled her up, sliding my left hand to the front of her throat. I whispered in your ear: "If Dad wasn't here, I'd fuck it right now," shaking my thumb on your ass to emphasize what I meant. "He's gone," she choked, "He went to get help because his horse was limp this morning too." "What? Isn't he here?" I almost screamed. So that's why I was presented with the T-shirt display. Well, I guess things were going a little beyond what Mom expected. I turned her over and took her to her bunk, Dad's bunk. I saw that he really wrapped the mattress and placed it carefully in the middle of the bunk. Standing in front of the bunk, the mother in front of me, I said to her: "Hold on to the tracks." She leaned forward to bow to me. "No, in the top bunk." She got up and did what I said. I pushed her legs further away, kneeled slightly and brought my cock into her pussy from behind. I stood up, pushing her with me. I grabbed her hips, pulled her away from her bunk, and started having sex with her in slow, strong stabs. Within a minute, the stockpiles turned into stockpiles, and a minute later I was hammering it. And then I stopped, and I told her to hang on to her bunk, and I pulled her back until her feet came off the floor. Holding her thighs, I held her and started investing her again. I didn't speed up, but I really hit her. On every dive I stood at the tip of my feet, tensioning the muscles of my legs as I bloated my dick into his pussy. We both grunted like animals. I didn't stop until your muscles spat on my dick and I felt her soaking my balls with her juice. I took her forward, put her feet on the floor and pushed her to bed and over the wrapped mattress. I grabbed your ankles and spread your legs wide open, and then I pulled your cheeks away with the thumbs of both hands. I pressed my dick's head against your little hole, which was still open the size of a coin for the action of my thumb, and I twisted her head to the side. "What's my name, Mom?" "Rogerius." "That's right, Roger," I said as I pressed harder, sliding my dick into your hole. I kept a steady, smooth pressure until my dick slipped completely inside and my pelvis pressed firmly against your ass. She let go of a long grunt. I was pressed against her, boasting at the moment. So I started moving back and forth, just a little, slowly. Every once in a while, I suddenly pushed her hard and then rolled around in circles while she was totally connected to her. I kept saying that. As his grunts grew louder, I bowed down and grabbed his hair with both hands, pulling his head back. I really started grinding my dick up her ass. That was absolutely incredible. Mom may not know, but I've never fucked anyone in the ass before. I love it. It was a trip to be able to hear her grunting and moaning, out of control. Suddenly I stopped moving, standing still. I pulled out of it very slowly, then pushed back in, then out, completely. His ass was pulsing, opening and closing, his thighs shaking. "Please don't stop. Please." I pushed my dick into it slowly until your cheeks were back against my pelvis. I held her tight against me and I started pushing her back and forth into a big circle, then I pushed her down on the wrapped mattress and I really started hitting her. Every time I hit her, she'd throw a loud, long grunt. Our fuck got frantic. Finally, she let out a loud moan as soon as I sprung, not gushing, but almost like a constant sperm hose. I fell on your back, panting. "Oh, God, oh God, oh God." I don't know if I fell asleep or fainted. But I was conscious of opening my eyes and realizing that I was still on top of my mother. I got up, took off my boxer and put on a kettle with water. Mom seemed to be asleep, still lying obscenely on the mattress. When the water boiled, I brought a cloth and some soap and started cleaning it. She opened her eyes and smiled at me. "So I guess it was a real Rogering. You seem to really like doing this." " It was fantastic, Mom. I'm sorry I got carried away. I didn't mean to hurt you." "You didn't hurt me. But it's not the nicest thing for a woman." "I'm sorry, Mom." "It's okay. I can let you do it again, if you're a good boy." "If I'm okay?" "That's right." She got up, pulled her shirt over her arms and threw it on the floor, then walked to the table and sat in the same chair where she showed me her pussy that morning. “Come here,” she said. I went and stood before her. She spread her legs wide again. "See." I knelt in front of her. She reached out and held my head, her fingers playing with my hair. She bowed my head forward, forcing my eyes to look directly at her pussy. "Kiss," she ordered. I leaned forward, leaning both hands on the ground between her legs, and covered her pussy with my mouth. I started licking her, pushing my tongue in and dragging her up and down in her rift. After a few minutes, she pulled my head hard and started fucking my face. She got very agitated, pushing more and more forward, pushing harder into my mouth glued to her pussy, fucking my tongue stuck hard on her kim. Suddenly, she swung too far forward, pushing me back, my shoulders rolling against the hard ground. Your legs tightened my head tight, like a lathe, your pussy never breaking contact. With her head on the floor, she kept hitting me in the face, her clitoris rubbing on my nose as she repeatedly bowed against my lips. Finally, she stood still, her thighs shuddering in my face, and then she relaxed. A moment later, she got up, went to the counter and took a dishcloth. Passing by me quietly on the way back, she casually threw the towel in my face: "Clean up," she said. She stooped down to pick up her shoes and walked out the door, completely naked, turning left on the trail up the mountain. Fighting to put on my running shoes, I took my shorts off the floor and ran out the door. I could see Mom, beautifully naked, walking down the meadow a hundred meters away. I went up the hill chasing after her, naked. Reaching the top of the hill, I searched frantically for it. I couldn't see her, though the plain was rather flat. She couldn't have moved fast enough to get out of my sight. Lose something? She was lying on the grass on my left, leaning on an elbow, displaying only an arrogant smile. I came up and lay next to her on the grass, on my back. I didn't say anything and neither did she for a long time. Finally, she said: "Well, we certainly had sex with each other. What's next?" “I don’t know, Mom, I don’t know,” I answered, thinking about all the complications we faced in our lives. "Well, I want to," she said calmly. When she didn't expand, I said, "What?" She leaned on her elbow and looked at me. "Now you can make love to me," and then she relaxed. I leaned on my elbow and looked at it. His eyes were closed, a slight smile on his face. I leaned over and rubbed my lips on hers. I kissed her. Then again, and again, until she opened her lips and started kissing me back. She put her arm around me and we started kissing for real. When I stopped, she said: “It’s more like” and pulled me back down. We kissed for a few more minutes before she drove my head away. "You know, son, you haven't sucked my tits in 20 years." She bowed her back, pushing her breasts up. Your nipples, I can see now, they were standing strong. I leaned over and put one in my mouth, sucking it and then pushing my closed lips around it, then spinning it in my mouth before gently dragging my teeth back along it. "Ohhh, that's cool. That's it. Suck them. Yeah. Slowly. Yeah, like that. Do it for a long time." I did what she asked. I sucked and pulled your hard nipples until I thought they were going out. She didn't seem to get tired of it. She groaned continuously, murmured and bowed her back, rising from the ground to push her breast into my mouth as I pulled her nipple. Eventually, I split his legs and shoved my dick in him again. We had a long, slow fuck in the meadow next to that mountain, fortunately unconscious of anything else in the whole world, mother and son. I've come close to coming many times. Your pussy was magic. He massaged me, pinched me, squeezed, milked, twisted and shaved. Just as I was about to blow her up, she was doing something to stop me, squeezing my balls really hard, biting my ear, and so on. Then her pussy would start working on me again. When we finally broke up, I lay on her, my dick still inside her, kissing her, squeezing her nipples. We didn't talk, we just wanted to be close. Finally, I rolled over and sat down. Mom sat next to me and I put my arm around her. Something made us turn and look back at the same time. There, about 30 meters away, looking at us, was a bear with two cubs playing around. As we watched, paralyzed and inactive, she turned and walked away, with her playful entourage following behind. It was late when we got back to the cabin. "I think help will arrive tomorrow afternoon," she conjectured. "I'm starving." I smiled as I followed my mother down the hill, looking at her pear-shaped cheeks, my dick already hardening. "Me too," I replied. “Let’s drink the rest of the wine and have a real party.” Mom put on a flannel sweater (she expected the nights to be cold on the trail) and started preparing some food as soon as we got to the cabin. I put on my boxer, got some wood and lit the fire. So I took all the extra pillows and blankets and duvets and spread them in front of the fire. I went to see if I could help Mom. "No," she said, laughing, "I don't think I can use the kind of help you have to offer." She took a big sip, finishing her first glass of wine. "Hey, it's not fair. You have an advantage," I complained. "And I'll keep it too. I'll sleep well tonight, so don't get any ideas. Then fill my glass before I take yours, young man," and she extended the glass. for me. "Yes, ma'am," I saluted and served two large glasses of wine. Standing behind her, I held the glass in front of her. When she reached out to get him, I leaned forward, pushing him away. "Oh, you tease," she mumbled, yet not realizing that my crotch was pressed against your ass, nesting my dick lightly in the valley between your cheeks. She tried to pick up the wine and I spilled a little, but I was compensated for its action, which also opened her cheeks, allowing my now hardened member to lodge safely, still pointing down, but pressing up with vigorous anticipation. "Oh, you! Your bad boy," she scolded me, trying to push me away, but discovering that it simply made her situation worse (or improved, depending on her point of view). She stopped, submitting to my pressure, forcing her against the counter, but said: "No way, Roger. I have to eat and I don't think I'm gonna make it tonight. Maybe in the morning, okay, honey? To not be discouraged, I replied, keeping myself happy: "Okay, dear lady, but I demand a kiss in repair." I put the wine on the table and pulled her face back and to the right so I could kiss her from behind. I put all my effort into the longest, sexiest kiss I could give, while swinging my hard cock gently from side to side on their cheeks. When the kiss was over, Mother whispered: "That's very good, but I just don't have your youthful energy." I kissed your mouth quickly several times, sliding my tongue just a little bit inside. "You can find out if you just let something start," I whispered back. I dipped my tongue in her mouth before she could answer. After a minute, I slipped my hands slowly around their sides, covering their breasts and squeezing them a little, then lifting my fingers to squeeze, roll and pull their nipples. Finishing the kiss prematurely, I said: "But let's eat first, anyway." And he turned around. "I'll get extra firewood." We ate our meal and drank our wine in front of the fire, talking about many things. Mom and Dad's life before I arrived, me when I was little and various worldly issues that revolved around relationships between people, nothing about politics, war or sports. I offered to get another bottle of wine, our third, while I was taking the dishes to the sink. When I came back, Mom was lying on her face, holding the empty glass of wine in front of her. She looked beautiful with the light of fire playing on the back of her legs, her hair falling on her shoulders. Kneeling to fill your glass, casually pulled your sweater over your ass and caressed your cheeks. "Hey, asshole." "You have to pay to be satisfied, ma'am," I laughed back at her. When her glass was full, I said, “Oh, I forgot my glass” and returned to the counter. While I was there, I asked her if she'd like me to put some lotion on her skin, which she replied: "Yes, but you better behave." I assured her I did and I came back carrying her lotion and something else I picked up from the counter. I began to apply the lotion on his feet, climbing up his calves and then through his thighs. I took my time. When I was ready to do my back, she had emptied the glass again. I didn't remember to fill mine. "You're gonna have to take your shirt off, Mom, so I can watch your back." "Just push up, honey." "No, if you want the back massage and the special wine, you have to follow the instructions. Come on, get up." I helped my mother get on her knees, leaning on me as she pulled her flannel sweater over her head. She was a little sleepy about the wine and the heat of the fire. I ran my hands through your breasts, pressing them and pulling your nipples. "Rogerius." "I'm just helping your circulation before you lie down again," and gently pushed it forward, naked, over the duvet. I filled his glass again, squirted a generous portion of lotion between his shoulder blades and started rubbing on his back, working in large circles, pushing down more firmly whenever he was directly behind where his nipples would be pressing the ground below. I kept applying more lotion, squirting into small puddles. Every once in a while, Mom would lift her head and drink a sip of wine, then fall back, harder and harder. I never touched her ass. "That's lovely," she babbled, when she took her last sip. That's when I pulled my hands back on her back and started scratching the little dimples she had right above her cheeks. " I have to do your ass now, Mom. It's the only part left. It has to be done," I whispered gently, but firmly, trying not to meddle in the crackling of the extinguished fire. I squirted some liquid on his left cheek and then a little on his right, slowly massaged his prominent pear-like globes, gently squeezing them while pushing them, and separated them to apply a scattered pressure. I squirted more and slowly worked on it too. So I squirted a little bit straight into her butt crack, let it get in, and then I squirted more. "Oops," I cried as I pressed my fingers in a shell movement between their cheeks, at the bottom of their buttocks, picking up the extra fluid and pushing it back into their little hole. Keeping my fingers there, I squirted more liquid, letting it accumulate on its pink button and penetrate. "Roger," she exploded, with a hoarse voice, her voice betraying a hidden excitement. "Just relax, Mom. I'm almost done. Just rest now." I pressed my middle finger, putting it along his pink button, and gently slided it forward and backward, then pulled it up and turned the tip around his little hole. She still didn't realize I was drenching her ass and her little hole in the mazola oil I took from the counter. It wasn't the best thing to use, but it was all I had. When I pushed her fingertips, she protested again. "It's just part of the massage, Mom, let me finish." When I slipped my finger completely inside and started working slowly inside and out of your ass, part of the massage routine lost its value. "No, Roger, no, no." "Mom, remember what I said about giving things a chance? Wait a minute." I squeezed even more Mazola around his hole and pushed two fingers in. She dug her pelvis into the ground, away from my ruthless intruders, grunting. I kept pushing, loving the sound of her grunts, "I can't," she screamed, "I can't!" "You can," I whispered back harshly, "and you will!" "No, no, no, Roger, no." I pulled my fingers back and put them back, pressing deeply on their cheeks. "Yes," I whistled. Suddenly, I took my fingers off her, paused, then slipped them along her peritoneum and moved them into her pussy. "Oh, my God, oh my God," she gasped. I turned my fingers, releasing it for a minute, and then I started shoving them back and forth into it, increasing the pace, pushing harder and faster. His breath was gasping. I stopped, spinning again, and then I started to squeeze slower, but more firmly. She started grunting again, moving her pussy back against my hand. I was very excited and breathing with difficulty. Pushing my hand, I held it there as I rotated my body with my feet to the left, out of your open legs. I leaned my torso down, pressing his back against the ground while pointing my dick and pushing him against his little hole. "No, Roger, no. Wait, wait till tomorrow." "I can't," I answered, and pushed my head in. "OHHHHHH, OHHHHHH, UNNGGHHHHHH," she lamented when I slipped inside. She was tight, but slippery, being very well lubricated. I pushed it all the way down and fell on top of it. I stood still, feeling his tight frown gripping me, seizing around the root of my dick. Slowly, I started moving. Come out for a while and I'll be back. Again. Coming and going, again and again. I started pressing, grinding a little bit, just a little bit. Soon, I could hear little grunts squealing from their cheeks. I started working my fingers on her pussy again, while I was fucking your ass. I pulled my fingers out and slipped my long finger to his clitoris and pressed it there, spinning it in small circles. She started moving her ass back to my dick, moaning, moaning and grunting, all at the same time. I quickly took my hand from between his legs around his hips and returned to his clitoris. Standing up, I straightened behind her, between her legs. I moved my dick back between your cheeks, pressing it into your open hole. I let it hover there. "Push your ass back on my dick, Mom." "Come on. Push back. Fuck me with your ass." I could feel the muscles of her thighs before she moved. And then I felt the exquisite feeling of his wrinkled round hole pushing back and surrounding my dick's head. Suddenly, she quickly pushed up, exhaling a loud grunt, "UNNGGGGHHHH!" followed by many rapid pushes in succession. She was freaking out! I felt my hand on her clitoris be abruptly removed when she replaced him with yours. I reached out and grabbed both her breasts, tightening them tight and pinching her nipples hard. Every time she buried her ass around my dick, I tensed her thigh muscles as hard as I could, pushing my dick into it. We were in frenzy. It wasn't an act of tender love like we had that afternoon on the mountain. Each of us was stealing something from each other. Abruptly, I unleashed my goo on her with explosive force. She started violently twisting her ass on my dick, frantically masturbating until I could feel her legs squeezing and shaking uncontrollably. We fell on the floor, gasping. After a long time, Mother let go: "You bastard. What you make me do. You bastard." "Be honest, Mom," I said. "You've had boring sex all your life. I'm your son and I know you. I know what you need and I know what you really want." A long break followed. "You're still a little bastard." "I know. I'll leave you alone tonight, but I'll see you in the morning. Do you understand?" No answer. "Do you understand?" I repeat. Quietly, "Yes, I understand." “All morning,” I insisted, “they can only get here in the afternoon.” "All morning," she recognized. The next morning, Mom and I learned how she could put her mouth all over my dick, using large amounts of saliva generated while I held her head firmly over me. I found out I could even keep fucking her while holding her head tight, for a few impulses, more and more. Eventually, I blew up in her face. I didn't mean to either, but at the last minute I couldn't help it, because I'd never done it before. I immediately felt ashamed of myself, but she didn't care. She laughed at the huge amount of sperm dripping on her, like it was a ridiculous joke that anything could be left after last night. I also laughed and then pushed my dick's head back into her mouth. She slowly sucked and licked, milking the tip as she looked into my eyes until I was soft. Unbelievable! We cleaned up and had breakfast. By the time I was wondering if I still had anything and how I was going to meet my virile demands the night before, we saw riders arriving at the curve of the trail, with Dad in the lead. My trip with Mom is over. As we returned with rested horses, I wondered what things would be like when we returned home. I didn't want to leave anymore. Always. I wanted to stay and have mom again and again, in every way I was beginning to imagine. And then the image of her shaking my head on the floor appeared in my mind, and the way she walked through the room throwing the dish cloth at my face as she went by indifferently, "Clean up," she ' barked. Maybe that wasn't so one-sided, I thought, the moment Mom turned around in the saddle to look at me, the two of us back again. Keeping her eyes on me, she smiled and leaned forward to grab the horse's mane. She was still looking back, smiling, as she raised her ass to the edge of the saddle....