Converted: Bring the Family, part 6

Her parents bedroom was as severe and depressing as the rest of the house.
"Would you prefer to do me on my bed?" she asked as they stood in front of the double bed of her parents.
Ben just pushed her forward. "Here's there's more room for rolling," he said.
Sharon sat on her parents' big bed. She stretched on her back and lifted a foot.
"Pull my boots," she said.
While he complied, she lit a cigarette. A portrait of the Virgin Mary was staring disapprovingly from the wall. Sharon laughed at her. Mary should have tried first, and then decide if it was such a bad thing. She slipped out of her leather jacket while Ben fiddled with her trousers, then she unbuttoned his jeans.
"Fuck," she breathed, as his cock popped out in all its glory.
Ben pulled her crop top away, exposing her breasts.
"They are growing," he said, licking her stiff nipples.
"Yeah," she said, leaning back on her elbows. "It started after we saw madame Zerelda the second time around. Soon I'll be borrowing Heidy's bras."
He grinned, nibbling at her nipples.
"Maybe Zerelda decided it was time for you to conform a little to my fantasies, for a change," he said.
She grabbed his hair and pulled his head up.
"You like big-boobed bitches?" she asked.
He grinned and shrugged.
"Now I see why you are so chummy with Heidy, you bastard!" She grinned back. He just arched his eyebrows.
"And I guess you even fancy Cass!" she said, pushing him back.
"Fat chicks come harder," he said.
"Oh, really, motherfucker?"
She spread her legs, exposing her shaved cunt, and the small tattoo of a black widow spider gracing her mons.
"Fuck me sensless," she said. "Let me show you who comes harder."
His eyes alight with lust, he leaned forward and slipped inside her.
She let out a loud moan, and circled his waist with her legs, pulling him deeper.



They screwed, hard, and then again.
Then they smoked a joint, and then fucked some more. Ben went down on her shaved pussy, tickling her clit with his rough tongue while she puffed on the spliff, mind floating.
She kissed him long and deep.
"My turn," she said.
She moved and had him sit on the bed. She knelt in front of him, naked and grinning. She ran her black lips on his shaft, feeling it shudder beneath her tongue.
He caressed the back of her head. "Oh, fuck it bitch, you are a miracle."
She looked up.
"Wait and see, titty-boy," she cooed. "Your bitch is going to give you a little surprise."
And straightening up, she caught his massive cock between her new improved boobs, squeezing it gently.
Ben's eyes went wild.
"Oooh, fuck..." he groaned.
Sharon gave him a crooked grin. "That's the idea, big boy."
And she started moving up and down, her tits enclosing the throbbing rod, feeling its temperature rise as Ben arched his back and closed his eyes.
"You know," he said as she increased the sped of her titty-fucking. "I don't love you."
She kept her rhythm, pumping up and down.
"I thought I did," he went on. "But I guess I just wanted to screw you."
She laughed. "Me too," she replied. "Love is for losers." She accelerated further, his cock engorged and pulsating, warm between her breasts. "We're in lust, you and I. All I want is fuck you long and hard."
"Yes," he breathed, cum erupting from his throbbing head, and splashing on Sharon's collarbone.
She stood back and collected a strand of sperm on her fingertip, and licked it clean.
She rolled by her side, and gently cupped his balls in her red-taloned hand.
Ben shifted and placed his hand on her cunt.
"Aren't we a perfect match," she whispered.


It was three in the afternoon when Sharon woke up. Her head felt filled with cotton for the weed, her limbs aching for the acrobatics.
The curtains pulled close, the bedroom was in darkness.
Ben was snoring gently, one hand still holding her cunt.
She grinned in the dark.
"Christ, I need some vodka," she mumbled.
She fumbled about until she found her cigarettes, and she lit one.
She took in a grateful lungful of smoke, then she groaned and collected her clothes. She slipped into her tight leather pants and then slipped the crop top on, giggling at the touch of the cotton on her oversensitive nipples. She pulled her boots on and stood.
She arched her back, stretched voluptuously.
It was time to see how Mary Margaret Valardi was taking her cure.