The Reunion, A difficult time for the Bunker family

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“F-feel good… baby?”

“Ya it’s good, Doug,” she lied.

Thinking about her wedding night ruined what little arousal she had achieved, so Kristen switched her thoughts to greener pastures; although she had been a virgin up to her wedding night, Doug was certainly not the only man she had ever been with. After the inaugural year of their marriage, Kristen had become thoroughly convinced that her effete and increasingly workaholic spouse would never satisfy her boundless sexual appetite.

Certainly, she did not actively quest to be unfaithful. Unfortunately, after assenting to her husband’s request to teach piano to help pay for the child they had planned on having since their wedding night, circumstances began testing her forbearance. Within a year, the frustrated, young housewife had between her legs a blond lothario home for the summer from his college and his wrestling scholarship. By the end of the summer, she knew well what her mother was screaming about for all those hours at night.

After the revelation of her first affair, Kristen became a serial philanderer. She spooled through the various liasons in her mind, her cleft again moistening with each memory. The PTA dad who would not let her husband coach baseball. The contractors that took weeks remodeling the basement bathroom. The boy in loose shorts selling magazines. Doug’s young and gifted summer intern.

And then, accidentally, she unearthed the one she had been trying to avoid.

Garrett.

Her handsome son.

She remembered flashes of their first time. Doug’s month-long business trip to Thailand. Pleasant High’s summer vacation. A bottle of wine after a long, exhausting, but incredibly fun Independence Day. Garrett’s warm head in her lap, his soft hair in her hands, his shorts bulging obscenely before her eyes, his sobriety weakening with hers. Knees pressing a skirt into the carpet. Fingers pulling down boxers by the elastic band. Kristen’s eyes widening with incredulous discovery, her head nudged forward by the ambitious teenage hand on the back of her head, her gag reflex sorely tested, her large teats lubricated with an oily river of teenage precum. A skirt hiked up past creamy thighs. Motherly calves stroking her boy’s strong shoulders. A teacher flooding the mouth of her best student with her amply flowing honey. A son’s eyes shut by his loving mother scratching his glans to sublime ecstasy with her long, painted nails. A mother’s eyes wide at her horny son gorging her experienced pussy to virgin levels of stretch with his thick, pale truncheon. Incestuous screams announcing midnight. Warm maternal jus spraying onto a squat teenage pestle. Potent teenage cream spilling out of a distended maternal basin. Garrett’s disappointment at his quick release. Kristen’s delight at his quick recovery. Leading her son up the stairs, his cock in her hand. Folding his mother on her marital bed, her legs on his shoulders. A trembling colt growing into a glistening stallion. A cooing mare remembering how to be a shrieking filly. 1 AM. Stuffed full, ass up, face down. 4 AM. Elbows locked, hips undulating, riding cowgirl. 8 AM. Legs up in the air, toes curled, breath a scream. Noon-

“Kristen?”

Her eyes flashed open. Doug had stopped moving and was looking at her, concerned.

“Huh? What is it?”

“Your face… I’ve never seen it like that.”

“Oh uh, you’re just making me feel so good.”

“Well, it’s sexy, so I’m glad. Ugh I’m glad you’re close honey, cause… baby I’m almost there,” he groaned, resuming his thrusts.

“O- oh yeah… yeah I’m close,” she covered, aware that his efforts did nothing to scratch the now-aching tingling deep inside her.

Doug seemed to buy it, “Yeah, I can tell – you’re dripping wet now.”

“All for you, Doug.”

“Aww yeahhh… *huff* c-come with me b-baby.”

“Oh yeah Doug – that feels so good. I’m so close, baby.”

“I’MMM OGGHHHHH!” Doug bellowed.

Kristen followed with her best performance.

“Me too! Oh Doug!”

Doug gasped and wheezed, falling atop his wife’s body. Their soft flesh pressed together in warm embrace. He kissed her after regaining his breath, and rolled beside her, his limp pecker wrinkled and wet under his potbelly. In all their years of marriage, he had never worn a condom; the pair was never blessed with fertility. Once this was a source of concern – it took nearly a year of semi-regular procreation before their son miraculously took root one day – but was now a perquisite.

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