J S Bradley

Mom_s rape cure


Suzy Flancher lay on her back and soaked up the warm Florida sun, her eyes closed to the sky. Laughter came from somewhere up the sugar-sand beach, maybe from her brother, Matt, and the girls he'd located at the resort motel already.

From the other side, she could hear the low tones of her father's gentle voice as he talked soothingly to her mother and flipped shells into the tiny ripples of surf.

She started to sweat suddenly. She could feel the panties and halter of her yellow-and-green striped bikini becoming damp with it. Her young, ripe breasts seemed to swell firmly in the halter cups and stretch toward the sky, as if wanting to break free of the hot cloth confining them.

She parted her thighs slightly, and she could feel her virginal cuntlips bloat inside the panties, slick and moist with heat, and surprisingly sensitive.

She opened her eyes and sat up quickly, looking out over the ocean. She worked her mouth. She could taste it again. She could feel the sensation of it filling her mouth and throbbing and then spurting the thick, syrupy wads that had coated her tongue and burned at the back of her throat.

She shivered in the heat of the sun and its glare from the white sand, as if ice had been plunged against her spine. She swallowed and swallowed, even though there was nothing in her mouth left to swallow.

"Honey? Suzy? Are you all right, Suzy?"

Suzy stopped swallowing. She sighed heavily, her full tits heaving firmly on her chest. Her eyes closed again. She could feel the prickling sensation along her thighs of the bum the sun was giving her already.

"Yes, Mom," she said quietly, not looking around, not wanting to see the look of panic in her mother's eyes.

"Are you sure, Suzy?"