The morning light pierces through the crack in Billy’s curtains, casting a golden glow on his bed. The events of the previous evening play in Billy’s mind like a feverish dream—his mother’s tongue buried in his grandmother’s ass, the feel of Evelyn’s furry armpit against his face, and the feel of Margaret’s mouth on his cock. He lies, trying to piece together the reality of what happened.
Suddenly, the door to his room flies open with a bang, and the silence is shattered by Evelyn’s sharp voice. “Billy, get your lazy ass up! There’s work to be done,” she barks. Billy jolts awake, his heart racing. He blinks rapidly, trying to shake the images from his mind as he registers the urgency in her tone.
Evelyn stands in the doorway, dressed in a long linen skirt that reaches just above her feet, adorned with large brown buttons. Her white blouse is neatly buttoned up to her neck. She taps her foot impatiently, her expression a blend of exasperation and concern.
“The stallion in the third stall kicked out one of the boards again. If he gets his leg stuck, we’ll have a real mess on our hands,” she says, her voice filled with urgency. “You know how stubborn he is. And if he starts to panic, he could seriously hurt himself.”
Billy nods, still trying to shake off the haze of last night’s revelation. He throws off the blankets, his cock still half-erect from the vivid dreams that had plagued his sleep, and pulls on his jeans and shirt. “I’ll go do it immediately,” he mumbles, his voice thick with the grogginess of an unplanned awakening.
Evelyn nods curtly and turns away; her skirt swishes as she leaves the room. Billy watched her go, his eyes linger on her swaying hips. The sight of her now brings a new, unsettling wave of arousal, a hunger that seems to have been awakened by the forbidden knowledge of her desires. He can’t help but wonder if she too was feeling the weight of their shared secret.
Billy’s mind is a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions as he makes his way to the stables. The scent of hay and manure grounds him in reality as he approaches the broken stall. The stallion inside snorts and paws at the ground, its powerful body tense with anxiety. The broken board juts out at an awkward angle. Billy’s hands are steady as he assesses the damage, but his thoughts drift back to the tender moments with his mother and grandmother.
The stallion senses his presence and kicks again; the force of its blow resonates through the wooden structure. Billy winces as he imagines the pain that could come from such a blow. The creature’s eyes, wild with fear and agitation, meet his own, and for a moment, Billy feels a strange kinship with the animal. It’s as if the stallion knows the turmoil he feels.
He reaches for the broken board. With a grunt, Billy pulls, his muscles straining against the weight of the board. The wood groans in protest before finally giving way, sending a jolt of pain up his arms as it comes free. The stallion snorts again, but this time there’s a hint of relief in the sound. Billy sets the board aside, his eyes drawn to the ragged edge that had once been part of the stall’s protective barrier.
Before he can even begin to assess the damage, Evelyn storms into the stables, her skirt billowing behind her. “Billy, what’s taking you so long?” She snaps, her eyes scan the scene with a critical gaze. The stallion startles at her voice, its eyes wide and wild.
Her sudden appearance sends a jolt of adrenaline through Billy’s system, and he jumps to his feet. “M-Mom,” he stammers, “I’m on it.”
Evelyn’s eyes narrow behind her glasses, the concern for the horse clear in her expression. She steps closer to the stall. “He’s a beast, that one,” she murmurs, her voice tight with worry. “Make sure you’re careful and quick, Billy!”
The stallion, a majestic creature with a coat the color of midnight and eyes that seem to pierce through the shadows, snorts in agitation as Billy approaches with the new board. Evelyn watches from the sidelines, her arms folded over her chest, her buttoned-up blouse straining against the swell of her breasts. Her skirt sways slightly in the breeze that filters through the stable.
Billy’s heart thunders as he works to replace the board. His mind is a tempest of conflicting emotions—the need to fix the stall, the fear of his mother’s disapproval, and the memory of her most intimate encounter. Each hammer strike resonates through him. His muscles flex, and sweat beads down his back as he forces the wood into place, his movements swift and precise, driven by his mother’s judging.
The stallion, seemingly aware of the tension, snorts and stomps and sends clouds of dust into the air. Billy’s eyes never leave his task; he focuses on it with a grim determination. He can feel the animal’s gaze on him.
Evelyn’s voice cuts through the air. “You’re doing well, son,” she says, her tone a bit softer than it had been moments before. Billy glances at her, and the corners of his mouth twitch into a brief smile. He nods, his cheeks redden slightly at her praise. The moment of connection between them feels warming.
The stallion’s eyes flicker between Billy and Evelyn; the creature’s instincts sense the shift in the atmosphere. Gradually, it calms, allowing Billy to replace the board without further incident.
As he secures the last nail, Billy feels the weight of his mother’s gaze upon him. He turns to face her. Her expression is unreadable, the sternness of her lips giving way to something softer, something that makes his heart race in a way that has nothing to do with the physical labor he’s just performed.
“Good job, Billy,” Evelyn says, her voice a purr that seems to caress his name. “But you really could have been faster.”
Billy’s eyes dart to hers. “Sorry, Mom,” he murmurs, the word ‘Mom’ felt heavier on his tongue than ever before.
Evelyn’s gaze lingers on her son, her eyes dark with a hunger that Billy can’t quite place. She steps closer to the stall; the large brown buttons of her skirt make a small clacking sound as she leans against the stall wall. The stallion’s eyes follow her, its nostrils flare as it takes in her scent. “You know, Billy,” she says, her voice dropping to a sultry murmur, “horses can be quite… demanding creatures. They need a firm hand, but also gentleness.”
Her words hang between them, charged with a meaning that Billy can’t ignore. He swallows hard, his eyes flicking from the stallion to his mother, and then back again. “What are you saying, Mom?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
Evelyn straightens up, her skirt rustling against her legs. She turns to Billy, “I’m saying,” her voice low and velvety, “that we all have needs, Billy. And sometimes, those needs can’t be met by the people we’re supposed to love in the ways we think are right to love them.” Her hand reaches out to cup his cheek, her thumb tracing a line from his jaw to his ear, sending a shiver down his spine. “But sometimes, the most unexpected connections can lead to the most profound forms of love and care.”
Billy’s eyes are locked on hers, searching for the truth behind her words. He feels a strange mix of fear, arousal, and hope. The warmth of her hand on his cheek sends a rush of heat through his body, and he’s acutely aware of the way his mother’s eyes are devouring him. He tries to push away the thoughts of the night before, but they cling to him like the sweat on his skin.
Evelyn smiles, a knowing smile that seems to hold a world of secrets. “I’m just like that stallion, Billy,” she says, her voice low and husky. “Wild, untamed, and full of passion. You wouldn’t want to cage me, would you?”
Billy’s breath catches in his throat as he tries to process her words. The stallion, now calm, watches them with an almost human curiosity; its dark eyes gleam in the dim light of the stable. Evelyn steps closer, her hand sliding from his cheek to his chest.
“Mom,” he whispers, his voice a tremble of emotion. “What do you want from me?”
Evelyn’s hand slides down Billy’s chest, her thumb lingering over his racing heart, her eyes dark with an intensity that makes him feel both exposed and desired. “I want you to understand, Billy,” she whispers back, her breath warm and sweet against his cheek. “To understand that love, and the ways we express it, are as varied and unpredictable as the seasons that shape this farm.”
Her words hang in the air, thick with the scent of hay and the musky odor of the stallion. Billy’s thoughts swirl with confusion and a newfound curiosity. “But, Mom, it’s…” he starts to protest, his voice trailing off as he searches for the right words. “It’s not what I expected.”
Evelyn’s smile widens, a knowing glint in her eyes. “Life rarely is, Billy. But that doesn’t mean it’s not beautiful.” She steps closer, her skirt brushing against the toes of his boots. “You’ve always been curious, my love. And now, you’ve seen a side of us that few ever experience.”
Billy’s heart hammers in his chest, the blood rush to his face. He can’t deny the attraction he feels for his mother, not after what he’s witnessed. The way her fingers dance over his heart, the way her eyes bore into his soul—it’s as if she can see the tumult of thoughts and feelings that threaten to overwhelm him. “Mom,” he says, his voice barely audible, “you’re… so beautiful.”
Evelyn’s smile softens, and she leans in, her breath warm against his skin. “You think so?” she whispers, her voice a seductive purr that sends a shiver down his spine. “I’m just a plain old farm woman.”
Billy’s gaze drifts down to her blouse, the buttons straining against her firm breasts, the fabric hints at the curves hidden beneath. “No, Mom,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. “You’re… not a plain old farm woman.”
Evelyn’s eyes sparkle with amusement as she steps closer, her skirt brushing against his legs. “Is that so?” she asks, her voice a silky whisper and her eyes tracing the way Billy’s sight follows the line of buttons of her blouse. “Tell me, Billy, what is it about buttons that gets you so… excited?”
Billy feels his face burn with embarrassment. But as he looks into his mother’s eyes, the secrets of his heart spill forth. “It’s the way they… hold things together, but also keep them hidden,” he stammers. “The anticipation of what lies beneath, the power to reveal or conceal…”
Evelyn’s gaze darkens, and she nods slowly. Her hand moves to the top button of her blouse, her thumb tracing a seductive line around the fabric. “The power of reveal,” she murmurs, her voice a soft caress. “It can be quite… intoxicating, can’t it?”
With trembling fingers, she begins to unbutton her blouse, one button at a time, each revealing more of her smooth skin. Billy watches, his breath hitch in his throat, as his mother’s breasts are freed from their confinement. She cups one in her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, and the sight makes his cock throb painfully.
Evelyn’s eyes never leave his as she steps closer, closing the gap between them until her breasts brush against his chest. “You want to touch me, don’t you, Billy?” she asks, her voice a sultry whisper that sends a shiver down his spine. He nods, unable to form coherent words as his mouth goes dry. “Then do it,” she commands, her voice firm yet inviting.
Billy’s hands hover over her breasts, the warmth of her flesh beckons him. He tentatively touches her, his thumbs grazing the elongated peaks of her nipples, feeling them harden and elongate even more under his touch. The sensation is unlike anything he’s ever felt before—sacrilegious, yet utterly exhilarating. He cups her gently, his hands fit perfectly around her small, saggy breasts, the flesh giving way slightly under his touch. The softness of her skin, the weight of her flesh—it’s all so different from the firm, perky breasts of the women he’s seen in magazines and videos, yet it’s her, his mother, and that makes it all the more arousing.
Her breath hitches as his hands explore, her eyes never leaving his. “Yes, Billy,” she whispers, drawing him in deeper. “Feel me. Know me.” Evelyn leans her back against the stallion’s stall wall. With both arms, she reaches over her head to the bars above the wooden planks of the newly repaired wall. The stallion sniffs her fingers briefly but then seems to look down at Billy himself.
As Billy’s fingers trace the swell of her breasts, his eyes are drawn to the soft, unruly thicket of armpit hair now peeks out from the unbuttoned shirt. The sight sends a thrill through him that makes his cock pulse even more insistently. He can’t help but wonder what other secrets her body holds, what other hidden treasures lie beneath the layers of fabric.
“Mom,” he whispers, his voice thick with desire, “you’re so… natural.”
Evelyn’s eyes twinkle with satisfaction as she watches her son’s hands explore her body. “Natural?” she echoes, her voice a soft purr that seems to resonate through the stable. “Is that what you find beautiful about me, Billy?”
He nods, his thumbs circling her nipples, his index fingers grazing her armpit hair. “It’s just… you’re not like the girls I’ve seen,” he stammers, trying to find the right words to express his feelings. “You’re… real.”
Evelyn’s smile widens, a knowing glint in her eyes. “Real,” she echoes, her voice a soft purr. She takes a deep breath, her chest rising and falling beneath Billy’s touch, the fabric of her blouse whispering against her skin. “And what do you think of real, Billy?”
He swallows hard; his eyes drink in the sight of her exposed flesh, the way her armpit hair frames her breasts like an untouched wilderness. He nods, his voice a hoarse whisper, “I… I prefer it.”
“You like that I’m not like the girls you see in your magazines, hmm?” Evelyn’s voice is a warm caress, her breath shallow as she arches her back, pressing her breasts more firmly into his hands. Billy nods again, unable to tear his gaze away from her body.
“Tell me, Billy,” she commands, her voice stern yet seductive, “tell me exactly how much you like my natural beauty. I need to hear it.”
Billy’s eyes dart to her face, his cheeks aflame as he stammers, “I-I… I love it, Mom. It’s… it’s so raw and untamed.”
Evelyn’s smile broadens, a predatory gleam in her gaze as she orders, “Say it, Billy. Tell me what you love so much!”
Billy’s eyes widen, his voice strained. “I-I love the way your armpit hair feels, Mom,” he confesses, his hands moving up to stroke the soft, damp curls. “It’s so moist when you sweat; it’s so soft but so tangled and curly. It excites me so much…”
Evelyn’s chest rises and falls heavily as she takes in his words, her breath coming in shallow gasps. “Go on, Billy,” she whispers, her voice thick with desire. “Tell me what else you love about your mother’s body.”
Billy’s eyes drop to her breasts again, the way they hang slightly with gravity, the dark pink tips of her nipples stand proud and erect. “Your tits,” he says, his voice hoarse with emotion. “They’re… not like the ones I’ve seen before. They’re small and saggy, but that… that makes them perfect.” He can feel his cock straining against his jeans; the pressure builds with every word he speaks. “And your nipples… they’re so long and… and sensitive. I have never seen this long nipples, Mom.” He says it with a reverence that makes Evelyn’s knees go weak.
Evelyn’s eyes drift shut, and a soft moan escapes her lips as Billy’s thumbs flick over her sensitive peaks. “And what about this?” she asks, her voice trembling as she unbuttons the top buttons of her skirt, letting it drop to the floor, leaving her in her sensible, white cotton panties.
The panties are indeed small, but the sight of the thick, dark hair peeking out from the sides and top, a stark contrast against the pristine fabric, sends a jolt of electricity through Billy’s body. He can’t help but stare, his eyes drawn to the obscene beauty of it.
“So hairy,” he murmurs, almost to himself, and Evelyn’s eyes flash open, a smolder heat in their depths. She smiles, a slow, knowing smile that makes his heart race.
“You like it hairy, don’t you?” she asks, her voice a soft caress that seems to resonate through the very air of the stable. “You like that I’m not shaved and bare, like the girls you see in your magazines.”
Billy nods, his eyes transfixed by the dark jungle that is his mother’s mound. “It’s… it’s natural,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s… it’s so hot.”
Evelyn’s smile widens, and she hooks her thumbs into the waistband of her panties. “You think so, Billy?” she asks. “You think your mother’s hairy pussy is hot?”
Billy nods, his mouth dry as dust. “Y-yes,” he stammers, unable to believe the words left his lips.
Evelyn’s panties slip down her legs, revealing the most intimate part of her body to her son’s hungry gaze. Her pubic hair is thick and lush, a wild thicket that seems to pulse with life and desire. It’s not the neat, trimmed look he’s seen in his secret stash of magazines, but rather a testament to the raw, untouched beauty of the natural world. He can see the dampness glisten at the apex of her thighs, a tantalizing promise of the pleasure that lies within.
With trembling fingers, Billy reaches out to touch the soft and curly hairs. They lay…