Help! My Sister's a Bimbo!
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~~ All characters in this book are over 18. ~~
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It was a
spectacular
orgasm.
Ronnie muffled a scream into her forearm as her well-endowed son plowed her from behind. Her entire body quaked with the force of her release, the fingers of one hand dancing across her clit as she ground her pubis down into her palm.
Above her, Max paused, his wonderful cock half-in, half-out of her throbbing cleft. "Mom? Are you all right?"
In answer, she turned her head and smiled up at him. A surge of smug pride struck her as she saw his eyes widen. She could just imagine what she looked like; heavy-lidded, horny, and replete with sexual satisfaction. Tugging at his hand, she pulled him down so she could kiss him, while at the same time she used the muscles of her inner core to caress his steely-hard shaft.
"I'm fine. More than fine," she murmured throatily as their lips parted. "You're getting better and better at making me cum."
He grinned down at her. "It's not too hard. These days, you're always ready to go. I've never been with a woman who liked sex as much as you."
"Not too hard?" she giggled, raising and lowering her hips, which had the delicious result of making Max's rock-hard dick slide in and out of her cum-slickened pussy. "Doesn't feel like that to me!"
"God, you're incredible," he said, kissing the back of her neck. The feeling made her body break out in goosebumps as he licked her skin. Bracing himself on his elbows, he began to pump into her again. "My slutty bimbo mom," he whispered in her ear, driving her body down into the mattress with the force of his thrusts. "Do you like that? Do you like fucking your own son, Mommy?"
"Yes," she groaned. "I'm your bimbo mother and I love fucking my gorgeous son. Jesus, I love your cock, Max. you make me feel so fucking good!" What had started out as a customary doggie-style position had devolved into her lying flat on the bed, her legs spread lewdly wide for her son. As Max's groin hit her rear with heavy, hard slaps, she canted her hips up, the only part of her body which wasn't flat on the bed. In her mind's eye, she pictured the tableau they made - the young high-school student furiously fucking his mother, the ice-cold corporate executive, his cock splitting her cleft like a ripe peach.
Two weeks ago, she could never have imagined such a thing happening. But that was before the Bimbo Pill had come into their lives.
It had been an accident. But a happy one. Ronnie closed her eyes, moaning, as Max's hand slid between her chest and the bedsheets, palming her breast. He caught her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pinching gently, sending a spike of pleasure deep into her horny cunt. Mentothal had been meant to aid police departments and law-enforcement agencies during the interrogation of suspected criminals. It made the recipient almost completely unable to lie or to foresee the long-term consequences of their actions. It had been her idea, and she had poured years of her life into it.
When the Mentothal project had been put on hold by the Department of Justice because of concerns regarding potential civil rights issues, Veronica Melton, head of Research and Development for Biodyne Industries, one of the leading pharmaceutical companies in the country, had been absolutely livid. It was only when her son, Max, had suggested that it might be useful for therapeutic purposes for people who were undergoing counseling for trauma that she calmed down.
Then, one February morning a few weeks ago, wanting to see first-hand the effects of Mentothal before she committed herself yet again to the interminable review and approval process by the Food and Drug Administration, she had violated every professional precept and taken a dose of Mentothal herself.
The result had been beyond anything she or her son could have possibly imagined. With her inner safeguards down, unable to see the long-term consequences of her actions, she had admitted to her own son the depths of her desperate sexual need, stunted by years of an unloving marriage to Max's father, who had divorced her years ago. Living in the present, with no thought for the future, her alter ego, who she named Ronnie, had seduced Max with the sort of merry disregard for the future which she had known when she was a carefree teenager. And her own son, it must be said, didn't seem terribly distraught about screwing his sexy-as-fuck mother into a series of well-earned orgasms.
And then the pill wore off.
Veronica had been horrified by her actions. What sort of woman seduced and had sex with her own offspring? But, as the prospect of being forced to re-enter her life of unwilling celibacy made itself appallingly real, she had surrendered to temptation, and had taken the pill again.
It had been like stepping out of Dorothy's sepia-toned Kansas and into the Wonderful World of Oz. Over a dingy gray period of nearly twenty years, Veronica had forgotten just how much fucking
fun
sex could be. Ronnie, however, had never forgotten it. Sex was
awesome.
Especially when her partner was as enthusiastic as Max. Her son was careful, kind, and considerate. But he was also handsome, strong, virile, willing to fuck two or three times in a single night, and, when the mood struck him, had an interestingly kinky edge. A penchant for dirty talk was uppermost, but he had confessed, with the
cutest
little blush, that he fantasized about having his way with some helpless girl. About tying her up and taking her, despite how much she thrashed and moaned in protest.
As the fog of lust drifted away one night, a chance remark by Max made her see the true potential in Mentothal. Veronica had clawed her way back to the surface, and a long, caffeine-fueled night of work had led to a presentation to the board of Biodyne, convincing them that they had their hands on 'female Viagra,' if they were smart enough to take advantage of it.
With her funding secured, Veronica and Max had fallen into an exceptionally rewarding pattern. She took a dose of Mentothal every evening on her way home from work. By the time she arrived home, Ronnie had taken control, and the slutty bimbo was met at the door by her son. They spent the next few hours fucking in every position imaginable. By the time they were worn out, it was time for supper and Veronica had taken control again. After they ate, Max did his homework, and then they made love one more time before going to bed.
She suspected that she didn't really
need
either Mentothal or Ronnie anymore. Her barriers had not just been broken down, but thoroughly trampled, like breastworks which had been blown apart by the artillery of an invading army. But she could not abandon the wonderful feeling as her waking mind slid away, subsumed by the panting, horny need for sex with her son. With Ronnie, there was no future. There was only
now.
And
now,
in this case, consisted of Max plunging his rod into her pussy over and over again while his tender lips dropped kisses on every piece of her skin he could reach. For her part, she encouraged him to cum, squeezing his shaft on every downstroke, milking his cock, waiting for that exquisite moment when she felt him fill her with his liquid warmth.
There! Max stiffened above her, every muscle tensing, and she felt it, his cock spurting his essence deep inside her. She had laid down that rule on that very first weekend. No condoms. Not where they were concerned. She had been on birth control for years, until the habit of taking her pill every morning was as ingrained in her as brushing her teeth had been when she was nine. She wanted to feel skin on skin, not the dull sensation of latex robbing the moment when her son came of its wonderfully sexy intimacy.