"Trent, honey? Are you okay?" she mumbled in her sleepy state. I heard nothing as I struggled against the demons of my torrential hormones in complete unconsciousness. I pressed my palm hard against my erection, and moaned again, this time more loudly. "Mmmm, Trent, what's wrong?" she managed, still awash in sleepiness. "Is something wrong?"Somehow, her vocalization wormed its way into my erotic dreams, and I found myself staring at my naked mother. Her breasts were very large and slightly swollen. Her voluptuous (but certainly not pin-up) body in clear view. Her unkempt, untrimmed pubic hair, which I remembered so vividly from my younger childhood, sprung out like some jet-black clown wig. I suddenly felt very warm all over. Apparently, I started kicking off the covers. Mom became concerned that I was consumed in either nightmare or fever, and she pulled the remaining covers aside. It was at that moment that she saw her 17-year-old son groping at his own genitals whilst moaning with. The man above took charge and thrust back and forth more urgently now, gaining momentum with each stroke, and as with each of those strokes rose a moan of pleasure from the mouth of the other. Entangled in the air with this clapped the sound of a double slap, as with each thrust the tanned man’s upper thighs hit those white smooth buttocks, followed by his low slung balls slapping against the others perineum. For a solid hour these two soldiers of lust banged away in their twofold ecstasy. Sweat pouring from the tanned man’s brow in rivulets down his face onto his chest, at times dribbling over his nipples and falling into a pool on the pale man’s lower back where his muscles had formed a hollow. Fast and furiously the man above had quickened his pace even more, almost vehement-like, fighting his way into his partner’s body with this tunnelling full blooded bone, all the while that man below taking that whole fabulously throbbing phallus alike the most perfect whore. A groan rose.
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