This is the story of my horny mom. My mom was a very horny lady. She was bringing up us three slutty girls. This is also the story of a man named Daddee. Who was too busy masturbating to care for his three boys. They were all four horndogs. They knew this was much more than a one-night stand. Somehow, we must keep our hands to ourselves. This is the way we became the horny bunch.

Hi, my name is Marcia. I finally decided to tell my story, so sit back, grab some popcorn, or your crotch, whatever you are comfortable with.  

As you may know, or maybe you don't, I came from a blended family. I am in my first year of college now. I have two sisters from my mother. They are both seniors in high school, and my sister Saran flunked out. Yep, that's right. She was named after plastic wrap because she is so clingy. My little sister Windy was called that because you could hear the ocean blowing through her ears if you stood close to her.  

I have three stepbrothers. Amazingly, they are the same age as my sisters and me. Nutmeg was the oldest. I don't know how he got that name. We called him three legs. I will explain that later. The middle brother's name was Pecker. It was supposed to be Peter, but my stepdad had cum on his fingers when he signed on the birth certificate, and it dripped onto it. The youngest was Booby. That's not a mistake. His name was supposed to be Bobby, but the same thing happened to him. My stepdad had cum on his fingers again. My stepdad is not allowed in that hospital anymore.  

That brings us to Malice, our housekeeper. She did everything in our house: cooked, cleaned, did the laundry, I mean everything. If you think getting cum stains out of sheets from teenage boys and their underwear is easy? Malice will tell you differently, not to mention my parents and, umm, me and my sister's panties.

I know you may think this sounds like the perfect blended family. I need to explain our house now.   

From the outside, it looked huge. From the inside, it was not. Malice had her room, which sounded like a seven-forty-seven taking off at night. She needed a new vibe or a blender, but I was unsure. It could be heard three blocks down in our neighborhood. Malice often could be heard yelling, "Sam, give me those hotdogs. No, make it the Summer sausage." 

We had a big living room, which was a waste of space. Its only use was to pass through to the front door.   

My stepdad had an office, or at least we believed that. To this day, I never understood why he needed whips and chains all over the walls. I wondered what my stepdad was selling. He also had several life-like blow-up dolls. He always let the boys play with those, but never me or my sisters.  

My parents had their room, and we were not allowed in there. We saw very little of my parents, and they had a PTA meeting most nights. That is what they told us when we were young, but we got smarter. We overheard Malice ask them to have fun swinging tonight. We all went out to the swings at the playground and never saw them swinging. So, that is still a mystery to us. Sometimes, they would get calls from different people right before they went swinging. I remember two of them. One was a lady named Partridge. My stepdad told her, "Can't wait to eat you tonight." They were going to dinner before going to the swings.

The other was some guy named Bundy. My stepdad asked him, "Are you bringing Kelly and Peg tonight?" He must have said yes. My stepdad danced around the floor and said, "Yes, yes, Kelly." Kelly must be excellent on the swings. I had never seen him dance like that before. Sometimes, they left their door ajar, and the smell from their room grossed me out. It had a musky scent mixed with the smell of used tampons.  

The kitchen was so small that you could walk in, but there was no place to turn around, so you had to back out of it to get out. Malice cooked all our meals here. They are so delicious and healthy. She would make meatloaf with real fatty cheap hamburger drenched in lard. Mmm, so yummy. Her breakfast was the best. She made bacon grease omelets soaked in, of course, lard. What a way to start your day. 

That gets me to my stepbrother's room. Three grown boys have beds side by side, with barely enough room for them to get out of them. I know one thing for sure. We never touched their doorknobs while going into the room. Now, as far as touching, their doorknobs. Well, I am getting to that.  

The room where my sisters and I slept was the same size as my stepbrothers'. Lots of nights, I was masturbating, and I felt nothing, only to realize I was fingering Saran's pussy. Occasionally, I found my fist in Windy's pussy.  

I know, I know, this sounds like the perfect middle-class family in suburban America.

Do you know how many bathrooms we had? One. That's right, one for nine people. It was located right between my and my stepbrother's room.  This is where the real problems (if you want to call them that) started.

No one had any privacy at all. I would take my shower, and when I came out of it, I was almost always greeted by my stepbrothers with their knobs pointing north. Most of the time, I would tell them to get out, but sometimes, looking at Nutmeg's knob, I just needed it. I almost forgot to share Nutmeg's nickname, Three Legs. I swear, if he broke one of his legs, he could use his cock as a crutch.

Nutmeg and I would go to whichever bedroom was less crowded, and early on, it was just jacking him off. Malice used to complain about the cum being on the sheets, or sometimes he was so horny his cum would land on the ceiling fan. If the fan was on, oh boy, what a mess. 

As I wanted more than just jerking him off, I graduated to blowing him. I loved doing it. It got fun when all three stepbrothers wanted a blowjob. When I got done, those were the nights I did not eat whatever dinner Malice had cooked up (usually half a cow) because I was so full of cum.  

None of this seemed to satisfy me. I wanted some cock in me. I told Nutmeg to go out and buy some rubbers so he could fill me up. He tried to buy them out of vending machines, but when he got home and put one on, his cock would blow out the tip of the rubber. He finally went to the drugstore and bought some, which is the story in itself. He told the pharmacist they were for my stepdad. The pharmacist looked at him, laughed, and told Nutmeg, "Since when does your dad wear rubbers? He has made half the women in this town pregnant, including my wife." 

Being an absolute genius, Nutmeg told him, "Well, sir, we will use them for potato sack races. That's why I need the extra  jumbo super colossal size."

The pharmacist told him, "Okay, that makes sense. Maybe I will drop by and watch."

Turning red, Nutmeg told him, "Sorry, but this is a family-only race."   

Nutmeg got home, showed me the condoms, and asked me, "You ready?"

I could tell he was ready, as the tip of his cock was sticking out of the bottom of his cargo shorts by a good inch or two.

I pulled up my skirt, showed him my soaked panties, and told him, "Of course I am." 

We went upstairs to my room as the only one in my room was Saran, and I knew she wanted to watch. All three of us stripped naked, and then Saran went and sat on her bed for the best view.

Nutmeg wrapped his cock up in the condom and said to me, "Look out, Marcia, here I come."

When he put that monster in me, I almost passed out. His cock felt so good in me. I was soaking the bed sheets. I was so wet (sorry, Malice). I had never felt this joy like this. My whole body was one big goose pimple. The friction of his cock sliding in and out of me was pure ecstasy. The only other time I felt this way was when the football team gang-banged me, and that took the entire offensive team.

I was lying back and moaning when I felt a tongue on my pussy. I looked down, and sure enough, Saran was alternating between licking my pussy and sucking on Nutmeg's balls. What a slut. Nutmeg kept pumping and pumping me. He was so big I knew he would go through me and come out my nose. 

I kept telling him, "Greg, er, I mean Nutmeg, I am going to cum. Don't stop.?"

I know you all thought it was Saran who famously said, "Marcia, Marcia, Marcia.".

Well, guess what? Nutmeg exploded in his condom. So much cum it oozed out the side of his condom. As he did, I heard him say, "Marcia, Marcia, Marcia, oh God, you're so good."

I was a little worried about the cum spilling out, but Saran to the recuse as she licked up every drop. She made me cum twice more. I was spent.

You might have guessed by now, but having a blended family has many advantages.

Nutmeg had a big mouth, and he told my brothers and sisters who weren't there about it. So, the next thing I knew, they were having a raffle to see who got to fuck me next. The gall of my family to do this? What did they think? Was I some slut?

So, like a good family, we made up a game. Now, stay with me on this. It's tricky. We would put our names on paper and throw it into Nutmegs football helmet. Each of us would draw out a name, and that's who you got to fuck. Here's the tricky part. If you drew out your name, then you had to sit in the corner and masturbate and watch the rest have fun. That usually meant two of us had to watch. There was one time that each of us drew out our name, which was not much fun. But rules are rules.  

Nutmeg football helmet reminded me of the one time I went out on a date with the big man on campus, Dick Simpson. I don't know who named him a big man on campus, but it was a lie.

He took me out to Lover's Leap or, as we knew it Fuck Point. I could not believe him. He thought I would fuck him. He pulled out his cock and said to me, "Marcia, suck my cock."

I looked at his member and started laughing, almost to tears. I asked him, "Where is it? I can't see it. Should I get a magnifying glass?"

He seemed upset as he tossed me out of his car. I thought I was being honest. Some people jeez. 

The best part of being thrown out of the car was that I was hitchhiking home. Who do you think picked me up? Come on now, take a guess and think about it. Okay, I will tell you none other than Gravy Jones. You know, from the Monkees. I was the president of his lust club, I mean, fan club. Gravy took me back to his hotel to reward me for becoming president of his fans club. He asked me to slow strip for him. I was so excited to do this that my creme was oozing out of my panties.   Davy took off his clothes, too (He was not equipped like Nutmeg, but not bad). He fucked me in all sorts of positions. He called them Monkee see. Monkee must do. The whole time, he was singing.

 Marcia, look what you have done to me.

 Me and my cock.

 Marcia, you brought me to cum.

 With your soaking pussy.

The whole time, he sang. He finally filled me up with cum and sang out at the end. Marcia, Marcia, Marcia. 

You probably thought I was a one-night stand, but you would be wrong. Gravy introduced me to Peter, and he torked me. Mickey doled me. Mike needed me. Gravy watched all three of them and filled me up once more. Gravy was so happy he agreed to sing at my senior prom. 

During my senior year in high school, I was elected as homecoming queen and most likely to ... I always wondered what they meant by "to." That same year, Nutmeg was elected homecoming king. It was a glorious night; we danced to the first song together. Gravy was singing. The end of the dance was embarrassing. Nutmeg was so hard his pants looked like a tent. 

I took care of that later in the back of my parent's family Truckster. Oh, wait, that was the wrong movie. I meant a station wagon. We did not know, but we had an audience. As I slurped down the last drop of his cum, we got a round of applause.

When I woke up the following morning, I saw Malice cleaning the car. It seems the damn football team was masturbating as they watched me blow Nutmeg. One side of the car was splattered with cum. Someone even wrote with their finger through the cum Marcia, Marcia, Marcia.

Poor Malice is constantly cleaning.

I am sure by now you know what an all-American girl I am. I was the pride of my high school, Beaver High.

I know I have gone on and on about my family, and I feel you did not get to know Windy, Pecker, and Booby very well. Let's say we will all be in college next year and rent a one-bedroom apartment off campus. All six of us will remain.

The horny bunch. 

We will always be the horny bunch.