Following this address, Joanne rose again from her chair with a hippo's klutziness, then hooked her thumbs into opposite edges of the strained waistband, and let it all fall into place, so Tommy was now lovingly crucified on the interior of the soggy panties, his three-inch body aligned perfectly with where his mother's slit regularly dumped its raunchy contents. He and the panties descended toward the floor, allowing the woman to jam her feet through the openings, and once Joanne pulled the band into formation so it could stretch around her rotund frame, Tommy found himself rising up in a vertical canyon of lardy thigh flanks. At the top, where those pudgy quads united, was the ginormous mushroom-cap-like shape of Joanne's ass, while in the center of it all was her hair-rampant pussy maw already unspooling nectar and parting its lips to receive a gift. Only now did it occur to the boy that when his mother suggested they see how well he "fit," she wasn't talking about clothing. Now with no part of that unkempt bush corralled by the panties, but supremely matted with juices, it became clear just how expansive the hair's reach was. Not only did it crawl nearly past the beltline, but from below, it almost extended to the yawning fault line of Joanne's disgusting butt crack.
"M-Mom, please... j-just listen to me... I'm y-your son... and you're r-really going to... g-going to? T-To..."
His blubbering didn't halt the inevitable. Inch by inch, Tommy was drawn in higher and closer to his mother's hindquarters, feeling the panty threads tugging under his back as they were made to cover more surface area, where the giantess's thighs widened and the spare-tire inflations of her fanny cheeks required an especially focused tug to overcome. Joanne did this with confidence, though, only taking her sweet time to give her son the chance to acclimate, though not even slowing the journey to a century could've prepared Tommy for the fact that his view was gradually relegated to a terrifying sky of his own mother's muggy, hair-speckled, flab-riddled undercarriage.
"MOM!" he squealed as loud as he could, with tears and croaking volume his only remaining weapons. "PLEASE! I CAN'T DO THIS!"
"Oh, darlin', you really are trying to get me going more, even right up to the minute we begin, aren't you? Now, that's good manners, if I ever saw them. I always did like a man playing hard to get. The harder he plays, the harder I intend to get him off later on," she cooed. "All jokes aside, though, there comes a time where we can just be honest with each other. And to be honest with you, baby, Mommy's just GOT to get some satisfaction here soon, or she's going to bust. Do you know how many mothers a year that undue stress kills? Well, I don't know the exact number, but it's quite a few. It's the silent killer, you know. And if anyone's going to be a lady-killer, Tommy sweetheart, I much prefer it be you. In a manner of speaking, of course."
The waistband of Joanne's panties arrived at the usual stretch marks and imprinted lines they'd made from squeezing her muffin-top girth, meaning also that Tommy had reached the summit of the roller coaster hill, only there would be no ride back down. It was time. Though the one-sided battle was over, and his mother had soundly won, the boy continued screaming with decreasing clarity until the final moments Joanne could hear him, half-crying and half-shrieking. By now, that animalistic pussy was hovering just an inch from Tommy's suspended body, slobbering cunt goop a dollop at a time, which rained around and especially on top of the shivering trauma victim. He hadn't even physically touched her drooping labial flaps, but already the boy was dripping with her erotic runoff.
All Joanne had left to do was liberate her thumbs from the waistband, which she did without any extra foreplay. Her panties snapped into place, and instantly silenced Tommy's wails when he was lurched into the furry hold of her pinkish arousal-swollen genital lips. Darkness, heat, miasmic liquid, scratchy hairs, and skull-spinning womanhood fumes all enveloped Tommy's helpless frame at once.
Joanne slumped into her seat so hard the furniture's legs nearly gave out, but she had no choice, given that the long-awaited requiting of her ravenous pussy with her shrunken son had nearly made her lose control already. To ensure he was centered exactly where she desired, Tommy's lovely head aligned with her clit, the woman gave a throaty moan that lengthened to a sexual roar as she fingered his little shape through the underwear. Fresh cum dredged around him like a cookie-cutter, and the jungle of slick hairs chafed the lad's poor face, as he was nestled yet deeper into the fatty petals of his mother's crotch.
Getting comfy, Joanne nuzzled her plump thighs in closer, so her nether-toy was clamped even more harshly to his new hangout by encroaching walls of flab, then grabbed a half-finished dime store romance novel from the table. As several previous pages were mysteriously stuck together with drops of dried goo, she was careful not to tear them while thumbing back to her spot.
"Might as well get cozy, baby. Things are seriously heatin' up in here. In the book, I mean. Well, at least for now," Joanne announced, and let herself vanish into the steamy narrative, while her child was similarly immersed in sexuality, only more literally. Still, it didn't take long for both mother and son to be short of breath.
"Oh, God... yes, that's right, Gladys... push him onto that table. He already knows what's going to happen," Joanne murmured into the book. "Yes, tell him exactly who's in charge here. You're the boss, he's just the part-timer getting volunteer credit for his silly football scholarship. He's nothing without you."
Tommy could only pick out pieces of his mother's increasingly husky speech as she sped through the chapter to reach the frequent juicy bits, though the only sign he really needed to understand Joanne's feelings on Gladys and her hunky employee was the buildup of sensual humidity that soon turned gloopy. Hatefully scratchy as the pubic topiary was all around him, especially as Joanne twitched in response to every romantic development, the gradual rise in dewiness of her hair by a combination of sweat and pre-cum quickly made Tommy wish his mom's pubes were instead as dry as possible. At this point he'd have happily allowed the glen of her muff to turn desert-dusty, scraping over his face like barbed wire, if only it would spare him this moisture deluge slowly but surely sopping its way through the hairy dam. Unfortunately though, Joanne's hair remained every bit as uncomfortable to the sensitive three-incher, yet with the added bonus of sticky gunk trickling through with its accompanying haze of bittersweet aroma, so there was nothing to bargain for anyway. The wetter the woman became, the tighter the cameltoed panties and her sloppy pussy lips bound Tommy in place, gluing curly hairs like hellish chains to his spread-eagle shape.
"Mmmm. Oh, yes... that's exactly what he needs, Gladys. Give it to him," Joanne chanted as though in a trance. "He may be captain of the team, and he may play with all those stupid sluts on the weekends, but when he's in your shop, you're in charge, and he's just a little boy. A little boy who's got to be shown how a real woman handles things. Yes, push his head down where it belongs... pet him for being so cooperative... show him there's nothing to fear. Let him squeeze the fruits and taste their juices. Bury that mouth of his where it belongs. Yes, keep your fingers in his hair... don't let him pull back. Not until you finish with him."
Joanne's running commentary was only encouraging her mood, getting her hotter under the collar and even hotter between her obese thighs. Her hips moved to mimic the descriptions of Gladys advancing on her young football captain, which in turn meant more hairy grinding for Tommy against the ever-drooling trap of her swollen labia. When she next copied the protagonist's seduction tactics of reaching for the boy and guiding his head to her crotch, Joanne too reached out with her free hand and instinctively cinched her legs closer together while hunching slightly in the seat, which resulted in Tommy being clasped so tightly to the furry maw of her giant cunt that he nearly had a twig-arm sucked between the slippery flaps up to his shoulder. When Joanne relaxed her stance again, the accumulated pressure of that last pulsating gesture meant an especially dense spurt of built-up cream was released between her fibrous hairs, blasting her son from head to toe with fragrant saturation.
The moaning and cooing from above ramped up in time with the greater volume of fluid tortuously showering itself over Tommy. His mother was fidgeting multiple times a minute now, sashaying her enormous ass cheeks in the over-filled chair and making every square inch of cellulite quiver from her bulbous caboose to the soggy lips of her privates quivering desirously against her son. In time, though, the boy had to realize that it wasn't just the content of her trashy book fueling this fire, but the aid of his own body.
With his faced pushed so near to her rubbery clit, stimulating it each time his mother's erotic squirming forced him to flinch in response, he had inadvertently allowed himself to serve as an undersized vibrator. Making matters worse, Joanne's restlessness while she read was the very thing making her boy-shaped panty passenger even more apparent to her senses, thus creating a disgustingly vicious cycle wherein the full-bodied reader was symbiotically aroused by her literature and a tiny naked pussy-hugger, while her offspring was made to suffer more deeply every minute in the muggy, sex-scented confines thanks to that wretched book and his own unfortunate winces every time he remembered how close he currently was to suckling his own mother's softball-sized g-spot nub. With every page Joanne feverishly turned, Tommy wept closer to a panic attack.