Christmas Party
- 4 years ago
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A Christmas To Remember Part 1 free porn video
My name is John Henry Jackson, but you can call me Papa Jack— everyone else does. I learned quite a few things growing up on our little farm in the 60's. My favorite time of day was early in the mornings before the rooster crowed. That’s when I heard the knocking against my bedroom wall. I was eleven, going on twenty-one, when I grew brave enough to find out just what that knockin was about.
Don’t get me wrong. I’d seen plenty of a****ls going at it by then to know what the noise was. I’d just never seen humans do it before. They didn’t teach things like that at the school thirty miles away, least not on the days I was there.
My parents had the bedroom at the other end of the three bedroom house, but it shared a wall with mine. The house was so old that some of the doors didn’t fit just right anymore, theirs was one of them. It had a gap about an inch wide and gave a good view of the queen size bed.
I knew Momma was younger than Papa by quite a few years but wasn’t sure just how many at the time. Papa wasn’t a very tall man; course I didn’t know that back then. He stood around 5-ft 7-inches and was just a bit shorter than Momma. Both had red hair, but Momma’s was so dark it was black while Papa’s looked more like the rust on that old pickup sitting outside.
Seeing Papa’s hairy backside made me feel icky and I hoped to never look like that when I got older. He wasn’t fat, but his belly did jiggle as he thrust into Mom’s rump— And what a rump that one was!
My momma looked like a goddess straddling that headboard with her small titties hanging out and long hair falling around her shoulders. She bucked and grunted like a mare in heat. Papa slapped her milky white rear a few times when she got too rowdy; though that seemed to spur her on more.
All in all that part of the show lasted about ten minutes before Papa walked away. He disappeared into their bathroom for a few minutes and I got an even better show as Momma finished herself off. She just reached between her legs to diddle herself, much the same way she’d humped Papa’s cock. It was a much better view than before.
After that morning, I returned several times to watch the show and learned quite a few things about sex from my parents. It seemed like I learned a new position or watched a new technique every morning.
As you might guess, the morning came when I was choking the chicken while watching and too distracted to realize Momma was walking towards the door. I started shooting my baby juice about the time the door swung open. “Enjoy the show?” “I...ummm...heard a.noise.”
Momma grunted. “We’ll discuss this later.” My shoulders slumped and I turned towards the hall. “About that noise you heard…” I sighed. “Just a woodpecker.” “Next time you hear it…”
I heard Papa come out of the bathroom and ran for the hills— or in this case the safety of my bedroom. Momma and I never did have that discussion, nor did she tell Papa about my spying. Every time I heard them going at it… Well you can guess what I did.
I grew a bit over the years since; broke six foot at f******n and gained a good bit of muscle thanks to all the work Papa made me do. My hair was growing darker and I was sprouting a good collection of freckles.
“I want another baby before I’m too old to have it, Charles.” “It wasn’t this hard the first time.” “I was fifteen, and you were twenty-two, of course it was easier then.”
“We’ve been trying for four years, Macey, I don’t know what else to do.”
They seemed to get more and more frustrated with every month that passed. Mom cried a lot and Papa started leaving the house in a foul mood. At night they argued, well Momma argued and Papa drank. He drank a lot and sometimes slept on the living room floor.
December rolled around again; it was my fifteenth birthday, one of the few days out of the year when I normally got to stay inside. Papa was already in a mood, Momma didn’t even speak at breakfast. They hadn’t had sex in months— I knew because I listened.
When I felt Papa’s hand clasp my shoulder, I knew he’d forgotten what day it was.
I put my fork down . “Breakfast was delicious, Momma, thank you.”
That put a half smile on Momma’s face. Papa practically dragged me out of the house by my shirt collar. “You think you can just flirt with another man’s wife with him standing there?”
I grunted. “I was thanking her, something you should do once in a while.” “Boy, if you weren’t my son I’d-” “Thank me for treating your wife like a woman?”
“Exactly!” He shouted, then seemed to realize what he was agreeing too. “Get in the truck.”
Something was seriously bothering Papa, and for awhile I thought he really was upset about breakfast. We went through the motions, fed the a****ls then headed out to the back field to pick up sticks. I usually hated picking up sticks, but I was grateful to put half an acre between us.
The sun was moving towards the west when Papa made his way towards me. I’d worked hard, picking up sticks. The pickup bed was almost full, though I could probably stack half as much on top.
He stopped a few feet from me and slipped both hands into his pockets. His head was down, shielded by a big straw hat. His thick red hair puffed out the back, he had a twig in his mouth, and his beard made him look like Willie Nelson.
“What I did this morning ain’t right. You were only being the man I taught you to be, the man I should be. Your momma, she’s a good woman, and a good wife; but I’m thinking maybe I ain’t such a good husband to her...”
I reached out and clasped his shoulder. “I hear these things happen when you get older.”
He gave me a cold look. “You calling me old boy?”
I shrugged. “I’m just saying, maybe you're working too hard. Take a break, go fishin…”
Papa grunted. “Fishin, haven’t done that since...”
I remembered the last time Papa went fishing. I was seven and he was gone a week, came back drunker than a skunk. Momma was so pissed that she made him split enough wood for three winters.
“Well, we’ve plenty of firewood; I’ll tell Momma I sent you to the cabin for the weekend.”
“You’re brave enough to tell her that?” I shrugged. “She isn’t mad at me.”
Papa laughed. “Not yet she ain’t.”
Papa dropped me off at the house and I could feel a cold front moving in, so I decided to make a fire. I managed to grab an arm load of kindling before he headed back down the dirt road.
Momma was scrubbing the floor in one of them flimsy dresses she liked to make. It used to be a window curtain a few years back. I paused on my way to the fireplace. That ass deserved a moment, but I must have given it a moment too long.
“You’re mucking up my floor, Take off them boots!”
I sat the pale down and did as she said. “Sorry, Momma.” “Where’s Papa?”
I sighed. “He was in a mood, so I sent him to the cabin.”
Momma grumbled under her breath and scrubbed twice as hard. “Watch where you’re…
Too late. My two step turned into a tango and I landed flat on my back.
That bucket of mop water I tripped over had sloshed all over Momma; causing that thin fabric to cling to her breasts. Momma never wore a bra, I didn't even know what the things were till I was in my thirties.
Momma stood and shook her head at me before sloshing suds off her chest. I’ve forgotten what she said exactly, but I’m sure there was a curse word or two. She held out her hand and I reached up. She tugged and next thing I knew, she was on top of me.
Momma must have found that funny, because she started laughing. I hadn’t heard her laugh in a long time, not like that. Her hazel eyes sparkled and her cheeks were rosy. I don’t know what possessed me to kiss her, but I’m glad I did.
She hesitated at first but then I felt her lips soften. I took a chance and slipped my tongue through the opening. A million different things rushed through my head in that moment, but all I remember thinking was, “I’m kissing a real woman.” She tasted like strawberries and something I learned later to be Papa’s bourbon. Her tongue danced and mingled with mine as we rolled on the soapy floor.
One second we were kissing and touching. Then my jeans were around my ankles and her dress was in the floor with those firm thighs wrapped around my waist. We looked into each other’s eyes and I gave a hard shove, driving all seven inches into her. She was wet and slick, but her pussy felt like a vise ‘cause it was so tight.
“Fuck that feels good.” It didn't matter who said it, we were both thinking it.
I leaned down for another kiss and Momma’s lips met mine. Instinct took over. and we moved in a rhythm that had her lifting and me driving her down again.
I love looking at a woman's breasts and ass, doesn't matter if they're big or small. Momma's nipples were just too delicious to resist; They stood out like flagpoles, just begging to be sucked and nibbled on. I drove deep and tugged on one with my teeth. “Ooohhh,” Momma moaned out and arched her back.
My arms slid around her and lifted her off the floor. She was straddling me now, and I sucked on one of those bite sized breasts after the other. Momma held my head to her chest with both hands and bounced on my dick. My hands found their way to that perfect rump and gave each cheek a slap and squeeze. “Yessss,” she squealed with each slap.
I’d love to tell you that my first time with a woman lasted hours, but it was probably only ten minutes from beginning to end. Momma must have felt my dick squirting inside of her and settled down for a nice long kiss as she rocked back and forth.
I put six shots into her before she wiggled her hips, “Happy Birthday.”
My sloppy dick spilled out of her, still half hard. “Can we do that again?”
She gave me a naughty shake of her head. “You gotta mop up all this water, and I gotta cook supper, but maybe later.”
It never occurred to me that what I’d done was wrong or socially unacceptable. Sure, I'd fucked another man’s wife, but she was my momma— the one woman who I’d always love more than anyone else. It certainly felt right to me, and sure was fun. I couldn’t wait to do it again, and from the look in her eyes, Momma couldn’t either. We had the weekend after all.
Don’t get me wrong. I’d seen plenty of a****ls going at it by then to know what the noise was. I’d just never seen humans do it before. They didn’t teach things like that at the school thirty miles away, least not on the days I was there.
My parents had the bedroom at the other end of the three bedroom house, but it shared a wall with mine. The house was so old that some of the doors didn’t fit just right anymore, theirs was one of them. It had a gap about an inch wide and gave a good view of the queen size bed.
I knew Momma was younger than Papa by quite a few years but wasn’t sure just how many at the time. Papa wasn’t a very tall man; course I didn’t know that back then. He stood around 5-ft 7-inches and was just a bit shorter than Momma. Both had red hair, but Momma’s was so dark it was black while Papa’s looked more like the rust on that old pickup sitting outside.
Seeing Papa’s hairy backside made me feel icky and I hoped to never look like that when I got older. He wasn’t fat, but his belly did jiggle as he thrust into Mom’s rump— And what a rump that one was!
My momma looked like a goddess straddling that headboard with her small titties hanging out and long hair falling around her shoulders. She bucked and grunted like a mare in heat. Papa slapped her milky white rear a few times when she got too rowdy; though that seemed to spur her on more.
All in all that part of the show lasted about ten minutes before Papa walked away. He disappeared into their bathroom for a few minutes and I got an even better show as Momma finished herself off. She just reached between her legs to diddle herself, much the same way she’d humped Papa’s cock. It was a much better view than before.
After that morning, I returned several times to watch the show and learned quite a few things about sex from my parents. It seemed like I learned a new position or watched a new technique every morning.
As you might guess, the morning came when I was choking the chicken while watching and too distracted to realize Momma was walking towards the door. I started shooting my baby juice about the time the door swung open. “Enjoy the show?” “I...ummm...heard a.noise.”
Momma grunted. “We’ll discuss this later.” My shoulders slumped and I turned towards the hall. “About that noise you heard…” I sighed. “Just a woodpecker.” “Next time you hear it…”
I heard Papa come out of the bathroom and ran for the hills— or in this case the safety of my bedroom. Momma and I never did have that discussion, nor did she tell Papa about my spying. Every time I heard them going at it… Well you can guess what I did.
I grew a bit over the years since; broke six foot at f******n and gained a good bit of muscle thanks to all the work Papa made me do. My hair was growing darker and I was sprouting a good collection of freckles.
“I want another baby before I’m too old to have it, Charles.” “It wasn’t this hard the first time.” “I was fifteen, and you were twenty-two, of course it was easier then.”
“We’ve been trying for four years, Macey, I don’t know what else to do.”
They seemed to get more and more frustrated with every month that passed. Mom cried a lot and Papa started leaving the house in a foul mood. At night they argued, well Momma argued and Papa drank. He drank a lot and sometimes slept on the living room floor.
December rolled around again; it was my fifteenth birthday, one of the few days out of the year when I normally got to stay inside. Papa was already in a mood, Momma didn’t even speak at breakfast. They hadn’t had sex in months— I knew because I listened.
When I felt Papa’s hand clasp my shoulder, I knew he’d forgotten what day it was.
I put my fork down . “Breakfast was delicious, Momma, thank you.”
That put a half smile on Momma’s face. Papa practically dragged me out of the house by my shirt collar. “You think you can just flirt with another man’s wife with him standing there?”
I grunted. “I was thanking her, something you should do once in a while.” “Boy, if you weren’t my son I’d-” “Thank me for treating your wife like a woman?”
“Exactly!” He shouted, then seemed to realize what he was agreeing too. “Get in the truck.”
Something was seriously bothering Papa, and for awhile I thought he really was upset about breakfast. We went through the motions, fed the a****ls then headed out to the back field to pick up sticks. I usually hated picking up sticks, but I was grateful to put half an acre between us.
The sun was moving towards the west when Papa made his way towards me. I’d worked hard, picking up sticks. The pickup bed was almost full, though I could probably stack half as much on top.
He stopped a few feet from me and slipped both hands into his pockets. His head was down, shielded by a big straw hat. His thick red hair puffed out the back, he had a twig in his mouth, and his beard made him look like Willie Nelson.
“What I did this morning ain’t right. You were only being the man I taught you to be, the man I should be. Your momma, she’s a good woman, and a good wife; but I’m thinking maybe I ain’t such a good husband to her...”
I reached out and clasped his shoulder. “I hear these things happen when you get older.”
He gave me a cold look. “You calling me old boy?”
I shrugged. “I’m just saying, maybe you're working too hard. Take a break, go fishin…”
Papa grunted. “Fishin, haven’t done that since...”
I remembered the last time Papa went fishing. I was seven and he was gone a week, came back drunker than a skunk. Momma was so pissed that she made him split enough wood for three winters.
“Well, we’ve plenty of firewood; I’ll tell Momma I sent you to the cabin for the weekend.”
“You’re brave enough to tell her that?” I shrugged. “She isn’t mad at me.”
Papa laughed. “Not yet she ain’t.”
Papa dropped me off at the house and I could feel a cold front moving in, so I decided to make a fire. I managed to grab an arm load of kindling before he headed back down the dirt road.
Momma was scrubbing the floor in one of them flimsy dresses she liked to make. It used to be a window curtain a few years back. I paused on my way to the fireplace. That ass deserved a moment, but I must have given it a moment too long.
“You’re mucking up my floor, Take off them boots!”
I sat the pale down and did as she said. “Sorry, Momma.” “Where’s Papa?”
I sighed. “He was in a mood, so I sent him to the cabin.”
Momma grumbled under her breath and scrubbed twice as hard. “Watch where you’re…
Too late. My two step turned into a tango and I landed flat on my back.
That bucket of mop water I tripped over had sloshed all over Momma; causing that thin fabric to cling to her breasts. Momma never wore a bra, I didn't even know what the things were till I was in my thirties.
Momma stood and shook her head at me before sloshing suds off her chest. I’ve forgotten what she said exactly, but I’m sure there was a curse word or two. She held out her hand and I reached up. She tugged and next thing I knew, she was on top of me.
Momma must have found that funny, because she started laughing. I hadn’t heard her laugh in a long time, not like that. Her hazel eyes sparkled and her cheeks were rosy. I don’t know what possessed me to kiss her, but I’m glad I did.
She hesitated at first but then I felt her lips soften. I took a chance and slipped my tongue through the opening. A million different things rushed through my head in that moment, but all I remember thinking was, “I’m kissing a real woman.” She tasted like strawberries and something I learned later to be Papa’s bourbon. Her tongue danced and mingled with mine as we rolled on the soapy floor.
One second we were kissing and touching. Then my jeans were around my ankles and her dress was in the floor with those firm thighs wrapped around my waist. We looked into each other’s eyes and I gave a hard shove, driving all seven inches into her. She was wet and slick, but her pussy felt like a vise ‘cause it was so tight.
“Fuck that feels good.” It didn't matter who said it, we were both thinking it.
I leaned down for another kiss and Momma’s lips met mine. Instinct took over. and we moved in a rhythm that had her lifting and me driving her down again.
I love looking at a woman's breasts and ass, doesn't matter if they're big or small. Momma's nipples were just too delicious to resist; They stood out like flagpoles, just begging to be sucked and nibbled on. I drove deep and tugged on one with my teeth. “Ooohhh,” Momma moaned out and arched her back.
My arms slid around her and lifted her off the floor. She was straddling me now, and I sucked on one of those bite sized breasts after the other. Momma held my head to her chest with both hands and bounced on my dick. My hands found their way to that perfect rump and gave each cheek a slap and squeeze. “Yessss,” she squealed with each slap.
I’d love to tell you that my first time with a woman lasted hours, but it was probably only ten minutes from beginning to end. Momma must have felt my dick squirting inside of her and settled down for a nice long kiss as she rocked back and forth.
I put six shots into her before she wiggled her hips, “Happy Birthday.”
My sloppy dick spilled out of her, still half hard. “Can we do that again?”
She gave me a naughty shake of her head. “You gotta mop up all this water, and I gotta cook supper, but maybe later.”
It never occurred to me that what I’d done was wrong or socially unacceptable. Sure, I'd fucked another man’s wife, but she was my momma— the one woman who I’d always love more than anyone else. It certainly felt right to me, and sure was fun. I couldn’t wait to do it again, and from the look in her eyes, Momma couldn’t either. We had the weekend after all.
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