The next few days were torture. I knew what was coming, but I had no idea when. And because I wasn't supposed to know, I couldn't ask.
Dom probably would, were he in my shoes. He'd be confident that Mom would forgive him for eavesdropping on her and Dad, and he'd almost certainly be right to do so.
But then, I wasn't Dom.
Part of me wanted to talk to him about it. Ask what Mom was like. But he might have denied it. It would be just like him. You could catch him doing something on tape, and he'd still deny it, challenging you with unwavering eyes and balled fists to call bullshit. Even when he had no reason to care if you knew. Just because he could.
I'd thought Mom had been teasing me before.
But that had been nothing.
Now, I wondered if maybe she actually hadn't been trying to get my attention before, after all, despite what Dad had thought. If she had been, she hadn't been trying very hard. Because the lengths she went to after that conversation were unbelievable.
For starters, though I wasn't entirely sure she was in control of this, it didn't seem like a coincidence that I no longer even seemed to catch a fleeting glimpse of the ordinary housewife I'd grown up with. The sex goddess seemed to be here to stay. And fuck did she look good
. I couldn't get over her insane curves, the way her waist and hips seemed to belong to two very different women. She'd also taken to wearing absurdly revealing outfits, perfume and a good deal of makeup around the house.
But the way she looked and smelled was the least of it.
As it was, being a horny nineteen year old guy, I found a way to interpret almost every sentence anyone spoke as being steeped in sexual innuendo. But over the next few days, almost every other sentence out of Mom's mouth was fraught with double entendres, and it wasn't just me trying to find them. It also seemed to take her a lot longer to eat a banana for breakfast or an icicle for dessert than it used to. Not that she went completely overboard. If called on it, she could have plausibly denied it.
But having heard her conversation with Dad, and having noticed the way she snuck furtive glances at me when doing so, it wasn't hard to guess that she fully intended for me to see these acts as metaphors for fellatio.
The next three mornings, while I worked out in the basement, Mom came down to do laundry. Because, you know, it would have been so hard to do all of it the first time rather than one load a day. Each time, she'd slipped her panties off and tossed them in with the wash. Whether it was a babydoll or a silk robe or one of Dad's dress shirts, she'd worn something up top that was just long enough to cover her up afterwards. So it wasn't so much that this let me see any more of her when she left than on her way in to the laundry room. But she took her time about it, and I was sure that she knew I saw her take them off.
She must not have been getting much sleep lately either, because she seemed to need to yawn a helluva lot. The kind of yawn that made her arch her back and stretch her arms, pulling her top up high enough to give me a nice view of whatever skimpy little underwear had been given the unfortunate task of trying to contain her fat ass, while lifting and separating her huge breasts at the same time. Every single one of those yawns gave me an erection. After the first few, you'd think the novelty would be gone. And, in a sense, you'd be right. They still had the same effect on me though, even as it became more and more transparent that they were entirely for my benefit.
Pretty much every little excuse she could think up to put her body on display, no matter how flimsy, she took full advantage of. I saw her walking around with nothing but a towel on. Caught her doing yoga in the afternoon, which she'd never been known to do before. I'd even once noticed her wearing see-through panties under an outfit too skimpy to hide them.
When I had, I'd noted that she trimmed her pubic hair, but there was a good sized triangle sitting above her little lady. One of my exes was always shaved bald. And there was something to be said for that. But it did sort of make her look like a little girl. The way Mom had it, I could only imagine that it would be easy to go down on her without getting hair in my mouth, but she'd still look like a woman.
Though I saw more than a few hot chicks at the pool on the days I had to lifeguard, all I could think about was my mother. No matter how many teens in tiny bikinis or MILFs in more modest one pieces I saw, the woman I pictured while jerking off each morning and night was the one who slept down the hall.
Finally, I'd had more than I could take. Thinking about the way Mom had explained to Dad why she was fucking Dom but not me, I cornered her in the kitchen one morning. Dad and Dom had already gone to work, and Todd and Nat were at school. My shift at the pool didn't start for more than an hour. We had the house to ourselves, and there'd be no one to know how we passed the time.
Mom was standing at the sink, washing out the coffee pot. I came up behind her, put my hands on the counter, one on either side of her narrow waist, and stood so close that my cock would be stabbing her in the back if I hadn't tucked it up under the waistband of my swimsuit. With my mouth a bare inch from her ear, I whispered, "When are you going to stop teasing me and let me fuck the hell out of you?"
"Frank!" she said. But it was the voice my mother used whenever I swore, whether it was at the TV or telling a joke or what. You'd think that this particular bit of profanity might have warranted a slightly stronger reaction.
"Don't pretend you haven't been trying to get my attention," I said. "Well, you have it. I can't stop thinking about you. Morning, noon, and night, I picture your full lips wrapped around my hard cock, imagine the way it must feel to slide back inside. To see the look on your face as I return to where I belong."
Mom purred as she pushed her hips back, driving her big ass against me. Once those nice pillows were in place, she wiggled her hips, making her ass dance against me. "Soon, baby. Soon. Your father is going to call in sick tomorrow. And you have off from work, right? So the three of us can enjoy ourselves all day while everyone else is gone."
"Dad is going to join us?" I asked.
She laughed. "You mean, your mother and father are going to let you join them?"
I blushed. For all she knew, I had no idea that she'd been fucking Dom behind Dad's back for some time now. Why ever would I think that she'd let me have her all to myself? I shouldn't even have known that she was doing anything other than having herself a little fun by teasing me.
"Was hoping for a different answer," I said, nibbling her ear.
Mom cooed softly. But then she said, "Patience is a virtue."
"Are we talking about being virtuous then?" I asked.
"Suppose not," she said.
I took a hand off the counter, sliding it up and down her fat ass. "Maybe just a little appetizer now, before I go to work?"
She hesitated. "I can't. Sorry, baby. Mommy would love nothing more than to feel her son's hard cock sliding in and out of her. But I promised your father." She turned around and cupped my face in her hands. "It'll be worth the wait though. Count on it." With that, she went up on tiptoes, while pulling me down to meet her halfway, and kissed me.
It was unlike any kiss I'd ever experienced. I'm not sure how. On one level, it was just like most first kisses. We both held back a bit, uncertain about how emphatic we could be without looking overeager. Yet as the kiss went on, we both grew more adventurous, introducing more and more tongue play, and our hands roamed a bit more freely. At the same time, I felt something more, something I hadn't felt when kissing the girls I usually dated, not on the first kiss or any of the ones that followed.
I'd almost have said it was metaphysical.
Whatever it was, that simple kiss very nearly brought me to climax.
I sighed contentedly when Mom finally let me go and settled back to her feet. "Well, that was something," I said.
She smiled. "There's plenty more where that came from." Her fingers trailed down my chest and abs then gave the lump in my swimsuit a quick tap. "But not until tomorrow."
I felt like it was my birthday as I bounded down the stairs.
From the kitchen, I saw Mom and Dad sitting out on the back porch, drinking coffee. I poured myself a mug and went out to join them, trying to act casual. Just another lazy summer morning. Wasn't like my father and I were about to take turns fucking my mother silly or anything. That would be absurd.
"There he is," Mom said with a mischievous grin.
"Morning, stud," Dad said, raising his coffee mug to me in mock salute. "I hear you're going to teach your old man how it's done today."
I ignored his comment as I leaned down and kissed my mother on the cheek. Then I took a seat across from Dad, next to Mom. As usual, at least of late, she looked amazing. Her silk robe left most of her huge breasts exposed. She might have had something else on underneath. Or, then again, she might not have. I wasn't sure. Didn't care either.
The morning sun brought out her natural red highlights. I marveled at the fact that simply looking at her hair could make me forget to breathe for a moment or two. To say nothing of the killer body she was flaunting as best she could lately.
"So, you nervous?" Dad asked, trying to hide a bemused grin behind his coffee mug.
"Nah," I said. Mom and Dad both raised their eyebrows at me. I sighed. "Okay, yeah, of course I am. It's my first time, after all."
Dad choked on his coffee, spit it up onto his lap and the table in front of him. Mom's eyes went wide, but she contained her surprise far better than her husband.
I held my hands up in protest. "Whoa, who, I didn't mean like that!"
Dad laughed as he wiped up the coffee with one of the many bandanas he always carried. His shirt and pants were hopelessly stained though. "I was about to say."
"No, no son of yours," Mom said, patting him on the forearm.
"I meant it's my first time with Mom. First time with incest. First time with an older woman. First time sharing a woman with another man. I'm used to girls my own age, girls I've been dating for a while. Not...it's just different."
"You don't have to if you don't want to," Mom said. Sounding less like the naughty little seductress that had been trying her best to make me give myself friction burns over the past few days than like, well, my mother. The same woman who, without me so much as giving voice to the slight bit of anxiety I'd been feeling, had told me it wasn't too late to wait another year before starting college. Even though we were already three hours into the long drive upstate at the time.
I chuckled. "Oh, I'm definitely not saying that." I paused, took a sip of coffee. "I've never wanted anything so badly. Just nervous is all. Don't want to make a bad impression."
Dad puffed out his chest. "Well, she's obviously going to be comparing you to me, so you're going to be something of a disappointment one way or another."
Mom snorted and slapped Dad's upper arm. "Honey! Don't say that."
He rolled his eyes. "Oh, I'm just kidding. He knows that." But he stared directly into my eyes, unblinking, for a few moments, letting me know he wasn't. Not entirely, anyway. "Right, Frank?" he asked, tone lighthearted despite his gaze.
"I guess I'm just a little
worried that I'm going to have flashbacks to when I was learning to drive. You guys aren't going to be telling me what I'm doing wrong the whole time, are you?" I asked, looking from one to the other.
"I certainly won't," Dad said. "But I can't make any promises about your mother."
She slapped him again, a bit harder this time. Then she turned to look me in the eyes. God, her eyes were so big, her irises such a beautiful deep brown. "Of course not, sweetie. But you know how I am. Sometimes I can't help myself. If I offer a few little pointers here and there, try not to take it as an attack on everything you stand for the way you sometimes do, okay? Please?"
I gritted my teeth so hard my jaw probably should have cracked. After a few moments to compose myself, I said, "I won't."
But I realized, if Mom's response was a bit defensive, I'd sort of asked for it. I'd all but accused them of being overbearing and excessively critical, and we hadn't even begun. Talk about a mood killer.
Well, it wasn't like I knew the etiquette for this sort of thing. Was I supposed to just know that of course she wouldn't be correcting me the whole time, the way she did with just about everything else, ever?
Mom's voice softened. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. And I'm sure you...just, if I ask you to change things up a bit, it doesn't mean I'm trying to say you don't know what you're doing. And if it seems like I'm responding to your father's efforts more than yours, well, he's not only had many more years of practice in general, but also in terms of getting to know me and my unique preferences."
She looked like she was waiting for a sign of assent, but something apparently came to her all of a sudden, because before I could say that I understood, she rushed to add, "And that doesn't mean I want you to try to imitate him either. Sometimes, what a woman wants from one man isn't the same as what she wants from another. So just keep an open mind and realize that any feedback I provide simply as my way of trying to help us figure out what works best for the two of us, so we can share something special. Something different from what your father and I have."
"Got it," I said.
Mom nodded. "And I'd encourage you to do the same for me. Maybe you don't want the same things from me that you do from your girlfriends. Or maybe you do. But I'll only know what you want if you tell me. So don't be afraid to speak up."
I sipped my coffee while I let that sink in. Knowing Mom, she might well be saying all this so that when she did try to tell me that I had no idea what I was doing later, it wouldn't sound like it. But I thought maybe she really meant what she was saying. "That makes perfect sense." With an awkward laugh, I added, "I should have known you'd find a way to be all motherly about this, without actually taking anything away from it either."
Mom looked like she might ask what I meant by "motherly", and whether that was a good thing, but she bit her lip, smiled, and kept the thought to herself.
Dad pushed his chair back. "If you'll excuse me. I'm going to get some more coffee. Maybe I can manage to get more of it in my mouth than on my clothes this time. Assuming Frank doesn't drop any more bombs on us. You do have all the parts, right?"
I rolled my eyes. "Yes, Dad, I have the parts."
"Good. Because your mother enjoys oral well enough, but she's definitely expecting to get a good dicking from you."
"Charming, dear," Mom said to him. As he passed by her, she batted at him, but he dodged her careless swat with ease.
Mom turned her chair to angle towards me a bit, reached over, and took my hands in hers. We smiled at each other awkwardly. Like high school freshmen who hadn't yet figured out how to flirt properly. Not that I was sure I'd mastered the art since moving on up to college freshman either, for that matter. But I had learned that sometimes it involved talking to the girl. Perhaps I should try something along those lines right now.
The words just wouldn't come. One thought ran through my mind, over and over and over. I couldn't believe this was really going to happen. My poor brain didn't have the ability to process any other thoughts just then.
"I'll try not to say too much anyway," Mom said after the awkward silence grew unbearable. "We can worry about figuring each other out more later. For now, maybe we should just try our best to enjoy it for what it is. If that's what you want."
I forced a smile. There wouldn't be a later, at least not for three years. But Mom didn't know that I knew that. Didn't know I'd overheard her talking to Dad that day.
Didn't know that I already knew that the two of them were somehow going to bury my memory of this day. However the hell that worked. Somehow, though, it didn't really surprise me that they could. Obviously something about all of this was supernatural. If Mom could transform herself from an aging overweight woman whose face was kind but hardly beautiful into this
, then who was to say that she wasn't just as capable of altering my memories. We weren't playing by any rules I knew, after all.
"No, you're right. It'll be more enjoyable for us both if we give feedback," I said.
She smiled and nodded. "Glad you agree." She fretted at her lower lip. "If you don't mind my asking, how many women have
you been with?"
I forced myself not to cringe. If it sounded like she was
in fact concerned that I had no idea what I was doing, surely that was just my sensitive teenage ego.
"Two," I replied at last.
But if my answer surprised or disappointed her, she didn't let it show.
Sometimes, moms just get it. Or, mine did. Not always, and certainly not if pop culture was involved, but when it mattered most, she did.
Pop culture, that was, or Dom. He was another big exception.
"So, are there things I should know about up front? Things you like or don't? And how does the threesome thing work? Do we take turns or what? You're not expecting Dad and I to, um, you know. Right?"
"Fuck no," Dad said as he came back out onto the porch with a fresh cup of coffee and a few slices of toast. "Here, eat up. We're bound to forget about eating once we start, so we might as well have something now."
"Good thinking, dear," my mother said, turning her chair back to be perpendicular to both mine and Dad's before reaching for a slice.
"We can take turns if that's what you're comfortable with," Dad said. "But if I know your mother, she's going to want a good ol' fashioned DP before we're done. That's as close as you and I are coming to one another though. And, when it comes to that, as long as you just pretend we're not as close together as we will be, it won't be a big deal."
Mom grinned wickedly, lush eyebrows flicking up and down while her glistening white teeth sank into her overfull lower lip.
Dad laughed. "There you go." Turning to me, he said, "Are you okay with that?"
I drew a deep breath. I'd only tried anal a few times, with my first girlfriend. Lauren. The whore. There hadn't been much she wouldn't try. Including, as it turned out, my older brother. Perhaps because of the association with her, I'd never even suggested it with my most recent girlfriend. But if I was being honest with myself, it wasn't the worst thing Lauren had ever suggested. I'd rather liked it, actually. It took a lot of lube and a lot of patience to make it work, and besides being a bit tighter, didn't really feel any better. But there was something about knowing she'd let me do that, knowing that she enjoyed it too, as long as I was careful enough, that was really hot.
"Yeah, sure, why not. Would be pretty hot to see Mom take both of us at the same time. But maybe we work our way up to it slowly? I think I'd prefer that we take turns at first."
Mom patted the back of my hand. "Sure, baby. Whatever you're comfortable with. I won't pretend I wouldn't appreciate it if we did work our way up to that, but if you change your mind, that's okay too. It's certainly not necessary. Very
nice, but not necessary."
Well, she might as well have said it was
necessary. There'd been no mistaking the lust in her voice just then.
How could I say no after that?
Why would I want to?
I almost made a mess of my pants then and there at the mere thought that my mother, the same woman who nagged me for playing video games when my homework wasn't done or accidentally throwing something in the trash that belonged in recycle or so much as commenting on the attractiveness of an actress when watching TV, preferred to have both of her holes filled at the same time. Until recently, if you'd told me she only had sex a few times a year, and didn't particularly enjoy it when she did, I'd have believed you.
Or maybe I wouldn't have, but I'd have felt like it was only my overactive hormones and deranged fantasies that had led me to believe otherwise. She'd certainly never given much real indication to the contrary. Mom had played the part of straight-laced housewife perfectly until, well, a little after when she'd apparently started sleeping with Dom.
"No, it's no problem. Not like you've asked me to do anything too weird, like BDSM or anything. I mean, sex is supposed to be about pleasure, not pain, right?"
Mom flashed Dad a look before turning back to me. "That's...right," she said, voice as expressionless as her face. But the pause said it all.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have...I...." Without finishing the sentence, I stuffed a piece of toast in my mouth. It helped wash away the taste of my foot. Some.
Dad rested a hand on one of Mom's smooth thighs. "No one's going to make you do anything you don't want to do, son. But don't be so narrow-minded."
Mom offered me a guilty half-smile. "What your father means, sweetie, is that sometimes it's not just about what feels good physically. Sometimes, for some people, there's something to be said for the rush that comes from having your lover submit to you completely, letting you do things to them that they'd never let anyone else do."
"And," Dad continued, staring at her with adoration and devotion clearer in his eyes than I often saw, "there's also something to be said for the feeling you get when you know that you can trust your lover not to abuse that trust. That you can
submit to them, fully, and know that it might bring some unpleasantness, but nothing you can't handle."
By the look on Dad's face, he was actually the dom and she the sub. It had sounded like the other way around. But I wasn't so clueless as to miss what they were doing.
The conversation was no longer for my benefit, but was now a way for them to reassure one another that they understood and appreciated where the other was coming from.
Mom stared back at Dad with the intense desire I'd been starting to think she only felt when incest was in the mix.
While I couldn't fight off the reflexive shudder at the thought that Dad enjoyed hurting Mom, and she enjoyed being hurt by him, there was something deeply reassuring about seeing that my parents were still madly in love with one another. I wasn't sure how sweet I would think it was if I had to watch Dad hurting Mom, but at least for now, while it remained an abstract idea, I could make my peace with it.
We finished up our coffee and toast quickly after that.
"So, we're really doing this," I said with a nervous laugh as Mom led me by the hand to their bedroom. My eyes were glued to her ass. The way each generous cheek swelled and tightened as she walked was almost unbearable.
"If you weren't already a man, you're about to become one," Dad said, clapping me on the shoulder. "I still remember the first time I slept with my
mother." He stared off into the distance for a moment, smiling. "Tell you one thing. You'll never be the same again."
I'd almost forgotten that just a few days ago, I'd learned that Dad was having an affair with both his sister and his mother. And being reminded of it surprised me all over again, even though it probably shouldn't have, not even the first time. While I'd never seen her as anything but an ordinary old woman, I'd also never seen an insanely voluptuous goddess when I looked at Mom either. Until recently. If the supernatural abilities that altered our appearances ran in the family, then why would we be the first to experiment with incest? For that matter, surely Grandma hadn't been either. Maybe she'd been initiated by her parents, the same as I was about to be. And them by theirs.
I shuddered at the thought. But whether it was with some residual revulsion or arousal, I wasn't quite sure. Both, probably.
After we got to their bedroom, Dad immediately began to slip out of his clothes. Despite myself, I found myself watching. But then, why should I be ashamed if I did? I was about to share his wife with him. And when it came time for the main event, I'd find myself a lot closer to him than I'd ever expected to be. They'd both made it clear that there was no reason to be uncomfortable with that. Behaving as if the very sight of him threatened my sexuality just might make things uncomfortable for all of us though.
Dad was a damn good looking man. He was taller than me, if only by a few inches. And a lot narrower in the waist, though neither of us had any fat to speak of. He might not have had my muscle mass, but he was no less blessed with tone and definition. His face was ruggedly handsome, whereas mine had a boyish charm. His salt-n-pepper Van Dyke gave him a look of maturity but not in a stodgy, professorial way, as a full beard might have.
I wasn't aroused by my father. But I was in awe of him. Even now that my body had been transformed almost as profoundly as Mom's had been, I found myself jealous of him.
Then Mom undressed too, and all thoughts of my father evaporated.
Unlike Dad, she was just undressing on the way to changing into an even more alluring outfit. She slipped on a pair of sheer white thigh-highs attached to a lacy black garter, a black bra with white floral embroidery on the cups, and a pair of black patent-leather pumps. Then she applied some more makeup. Deep red lipstick made her full lips stand out even more, and a combination of mascara, kohl, and eye-shadow further accentuated the beauty of her big brown eyes and her porcelain skin. Finally, she added very light sprays of a gentle perfume to her neck, under her arms, and between her legs.
I stared at that last site. Her labia were prominent and puffy. They were also slick with her juices already. Those beautiful folds were glistening with her arousal. As I'd noticed the other day, she'd trimmed her hair so that her pussy lips were completely exposed, but the tuft of curls carved into a triangle sitting above made sure that I would not forget that I was about to experience a real woman.
"You don't normally leave your clothes on, do you?" Mom asked me,. "Don't you want to show Mommy what she's working with?"
I cleared my throat and hurriedly stripped out of my clothes.
Mom planted one hand on her hip and, with the other, tapped a finger against her lips.
I studied myself in the mirror beside her as she looked me up and down. Women found me reasonably attractive even when I wore my ordinary visage. I'd have liked to be taller and fitter, but the truth was, the main reason I wasn't more experienced with women was because I was too timid, not because they had no interest in me.
Though still not the tallest guy around, I wasn't as short as I ordinarily was. My waist was a few pants sizes smaller, if still not as slender as my father's. I'd gained a ton of hard muscle too. I'd never seen a more well defined eight-pack, nor arms that thick. Not on a real person. Only in magazines.
My body hair wasn't as thick as it normally was either. Less like the pelt of fur that made some of my friends jokingly call me the missing link and more like a modest reminder of my masculinity that nonetheless did little to obscure the thick, ripped muscle beneath.
And the changes that had taken place between my legs were no less dramatic.
Rather than the modest endowment that you'd be complimenting if you described as average in size, a long, thick, smooth and hairless cock jutted out in front of me like a miniature spear. It was almost half again as long as it should have been, and the same was true of its girth. The swollen head looked like a mushroom cap, and was wider than the thickest part of the shaft.
"Oh my," Mom said. "Don't tell me it's that big naturally."
I laughed. "I wish."
Mom whistled. "You've figured out how to do that already?"
"What do you mean?" I asked.
Dad laughed. "He doesn't even get it." Turning to look at me, stroking a cock that was even bigger than mine, he said, "Most of us look good when we drop our mortal disguises. Over time, the difference tends to get bigger, both because our everyday forms naturally become less attractive as we age but also because the baseline for our other selves tends to improve a little as we get stronger and more experienced. And when in these forms, we can control our bodies. But it takes a lot of effort. I couldn't make myself that big, even for a short while, until years after I discovered my abilities. If I didn't make a point of it, I'd barely be any bigger than in my mortal form."
"But I didn't even do anything," I said.
"Hush," Mom said, walking towards me slowly. "He doesn't need to hear about any of that now. Plenty of time for teaching him how it all works later."
I swallowed the lump in my throat and slid a hand around Mom's impossibly narrow waist as she closed the last few inches between us. She ran her hands over my barrel chest, purring like a damned kitten. Pre-cum leaked out the tip of my diamond-cutter.
Just as I was about to lean in for a kiss, Mom popped down to her haunches, bounced about a bit, and started stroking me furiously. "It's absolutely gorgeous, honey."
Having no idea what to say, I just stared down in disbelief as the woman who'd probably last seen me naked when giving me a bath in the kitchen sink stared hungrily at my hard cock, licked her lips, and slowly took me into her mouth.
Little more than the bulging mushroom cap had passed her lips before I lost control. My balls jumped up and down as they worked their hardest to pump my seed into my mother's mouth. She giggled but didn't take my helmet out. I felt her tongue sliding back and forth over the tip of my cock, lapping up her son's cum. I held her silky hair in one hand and tried to resist the impulse to buck my hips back and forth, to fuck her face. A few painfully short moments later, she stood up, smiling, and kissed me on the cheek before turning on a heel and heading for the bed.
And so ended the first blowjob my mother ever gave me.
I almost cried.
My father was having himself a good old laugh. "Walk softly, carry a big stick, and bust a load in less than a minute? To think, here I was feeling intimidated by my own son."
"Sweetie," Mom said as she crawled towards him from the other side of the bed, positioning herself to do the same for him as she had for me. "That's not nice. He was just really nervous. You watch. He'll show me what's what soon enough." She turned to look at me as she lowered her face towards my father's stiff dick. "Isn't that right, baby?"
I sure hoped so.
Dad held out a long time. Yet I was pretty sure that wasn't because Mom didn't know what she was doing. I'd hardly had the chance to figure that out for myself, but judging by the way Dad's eyes rolled back in his head, his muscles contracted and loosened erratically, and the way he moaned, hissed and sighed like he was experiencing the most intense pleasure of his life, it seemed safe to say Mom was quite skilled. Nonetheless, it took ten whole minutes before Mom started swallowing one mouthful after another.
Dad slipped out of bed, and I noticed that he was sweating. Not profusely, but still. From a fucking blowjob. I could only imagine what that must have been like. What I wouldn't give to be able to enjoy Mom's ministrations that long.
"Get over there and tend to your mother's needs," he said. "Here's a little fatherly advice. Don't offer to go first. And while you should never go down on any girl you don't plan on seeing again, whether she goes down on you or not, if you care about her, always
return the favor. And take the time to learn how to do it right."
For a moment, I simply stood there, scratching my head, too confused to respond. I'd have expected Dad, the inventor of the man-points system, to insist that a guy should never have to go down on a woman at all, ever, no matter the circumstances. I'd heard Dom say as much. It seemed to be the way assholes proved how manly they were.
Myself, I never slept with women I never planned to see again, and I took great pleasure in servicing the women I was with. Regardless of whether they went down on me too.
I really wasn't sure what to make of my father's advice. It sounded somewhat obnoxious, but at the same time, was a whole lot more nuanced than anything I'd ever heard from Dom.
At any rate, if it was worthy of further consideration, that was for another day.
Mom lay on her back, legs spread wide, teasing herself with her long, red nails. "Do as your father says, Frank." Then she broke role and giggled like a little girl.
The incongruity of it all was almost overwhelming. She looked like a woman in her twenties. Maybe late twenties or early thirties, if you looked closely enough. At times, she sounded even younger. But, at least some of the time, she talked like my mother. As she had just there. Of course, most of the time, when she told me to do as my father said, she wasn't talking about eating pussy. But by the tone of her voice, right up until that little giggle, you almost wouldn't have known that she was now either.
I didn't need to be turned on any more. Wasn't sure I could handle being much more aroused. But the inability to get a handle on exactly who I was about to pleasure orally had my heart pounding so hard I could feel my ears
As I lay on my stomach before her and went to work, the unsettling juxtaposition only grew more intense. Mom moaned softly, writhing her hips, guiding me gently with a hand on the back of my head. As she did, she whispered the kind of comments I'd feared she'd nag me with. But even though I was listening to my mother telling me this, that and the other thing that I was doing wrong, she was doing so in the sexiest, breathiest voice, a voice dripping with desire. Being told "No, not like that, honey," or, "I know I just said right there, but you can't just focus on one spot the whole time," every few seconds wasn't exactly fun, but it was a lot more tolerable knowing how excited my mother was.
So I did my best to take the comments for what they were, and adjusted my approach every time she suggested some course correction. Part of me was tempted to ask her to back off a bit, but, truth be told, she smelled and tasted so good, I didn't want to pull myself away from her beautiful little lady for more than a moment anyway. For the most part, she tasted like other women. But there was just the faintest hint of blackberries and raspberries mixed in with her salty juices. Not overpowering. Not like candy. Just a nice little reminder that she wasn't just any woman, but a being of supernatural beauty.
That made me wonder if I tasted like other guys did, or if maybe there was a little hint of sweetness to my secretions as well. Probably so. Maybe I'd ask Mom.
Later. When I wasn't busy with a mouth full of her delicious pussy.
"Yes, that's it. Don't be shy about it," she said, as I flicked the stiff tip of my tongue back and forth over her clitoris. "Other girls might not be able to take...oh, oh...too much direct stimulation, but...fuck yes...we're different. Just keep going. Oh, but, sweetie, watch your teeth. Nobody
I started to apologize, but the moment my head pulled back, she pressed me back down.
"Don't apologize. Mommy wants you to keep going. Just don't do it again."
Before long, at her instruction, I introduced my fingers. She guided me through the proper use of them. I'd never considered twirling my hand around while still inside a woman like that before. I'd start with my palm facing down, reaching deep towards the back of her womb, then spin around, fingers curled, letting my knuckles press gently against her labia as I did. Then, curling my fingers back towards me, I'd focus on stimulating her G-spot. It was a move that was easy to overdo, as I learned the hard way. But learn I did. After she corrected me, I just threw in a few twirls here and there.
Thankfully, Mom was just as forthcoming with praise for what I was doing right as she was constructive criticism when that was called for. And after a few minutes, what I was doing right seemed to be, well, everything.
Mom's breathing accelerated, her hips started pumping up and down gently, and her thighs squeezed more tightly against my head. Or they fell flat on the bed when all the tension went out of her body. One way or the other, I was soon receiving plenty of feedback, but not one bit of it was verbal. Mom couldn't seem to form an actual word. She just grunted, moaned and sighed. Then her juices went from watery to thick and phlegmy, the berry taste growing more and more pronounced. Blood rushed to her labia, darkening her pink folds. I guided her through a powerful orgasm that seemed to go on forever.
Finally, she collapsed flat on her back, arms splayed out beside her.
I didn't need her to tap me on the back of the head to know that she needed some time to recover. She did all the same. But I didn't mind that she seemed to assume I couldn't figure it out on my own. I was too busy feeling relieved that I'd managed to make Mom happy. The lazy smile on her face, a smile I'd ordinarily associate with narcotics, made my heart swell. I thought maybe I finally understood why Mom had always said that she looked forward to Christmas every bit as much as we did. Seeing that you could bring such happiness to someone for whom you cared deeply was the best gift anyone could receive.
Dad grunted, told me "Good job," through gritted teeth, and climbed up into bed.
I walked up to the top of the bed, leaned down and kissed Mom on the forehead.
Or, that was my intent. She pulled me down and kissed me deeply, as if the fact that I was coming at her sideways wasn't at all awkward. After a minute or two of that, she let me up and gasped for air.
"That as amazing, baby. You're a fast learner. And thank you for being so open to feedback. That's the mark of a great lover."
"Yeah, yeah, the kid's doing great. We should put a big ol' gold star up on the fridge," Dad said, positioning himself to enter Mom missionary style.
Mom laughed, ran a hand over her husband's face. "Oh, honey, don't be jealous. The love a mother shares with her son is different than with her husband. You don't think I'm under the impression that it's any different with you and your mother, do you?"
"Who's jealous? I'm just impatient. My cock needs to be inside you."
Mom gasped as Dad slid inside her. Then wrapped her fingers around his biceps and hooked her thighs around his back, trying her best to pull him in deeper, even after he was already in as deep as he could get. It was almost a wonder that he managed to pull out before thrusting back in with how hard her thighs seemed to be pressing against his back. But he did. In fact, he jackhammered into her faster than was humanly possible. From his shoulder blades down, he was a blur.
As Mom had done to me earlier, he had her cumming within less than a minute. He didn't let up when her orgasm came though, just slowed a little at the very peak of her climax and then renewed the attack. I lost track of how many orgasms Mom had, but they came one right after the other for a good five minutes before Dad pulled out and blasted her stomach and chest with his cum.
"Frank's turn," Dad said, sliding out of bed. "Let's see you top that," he said with a wink. Then, with a glance towards his wife, he added, "I'm just kidding. It's not a competition. Be sure you show you mother a good time because she's your mother and she, uh, deserves nothing less. Yeah, that's what I meant."
Mom laughed. "Careful not to drip too much sarcasm on the floor, honey," she said.
He flashed her a toothy grin.
Mom drew a deep breath, snapped her fingers, and it was like she'd showered, fixed her hair, and refreshed her makeup.
"Neat trick," I said.
She smiled. "Got plenty more impressive tricks than that. But we'll save 'em for later." Propping herself up with her elbows, she asked, "So how do you want me?"
"Doggy," I said.
"Good answer," she replied, slipping down to her feet.
I came around the side of the bed and went to put a hand on her hip but she slapped it away. With one hand on my chest, keeping me at arm's length, she said, "Just enjoy the show for a bit. You'll know when I'm ready for you."
Dad laughed. "You're gonna like this one."
From opposite sides of the bed, he and I watched as Mom got down on all fours and crawled out towards the closet, movements slow and halting. Every so often, she'd stop, lean her face down while raising her hips up, and shake that big, beautiful ass at me.
Watching it jiggle sent waves of desire through me so strong I wasn't sure how I managed to stay on my feet. Or stay in place, when I wanted to bad to rush over to her.
Mom turned and started crawling towards Dad. She looked back at me, giving a few soft barks. They sounded very little like any sound I'd ever heard a dog make, and a lot like the sexiest fucking sound any woman had ever made in the bedroom.
I don't know if that was my signal or not, but I couldn't wait any longer.
By the time I got to Mom, she'd closed the remaining distance between her and Dad. He tried to feed her his cock, but she shook her head and told him to watch.
I wasn't sure what was sweeter. The tight grip of my mother's warm snatch as I slid back into the first pussy I'd ever been inside, or the way Dad struggled not to let any expression show on his face as I did.
Well, okay, there really was no contest. When Mom bucked her hips back and forth in light jerks, running the tight grip of her walls up and down my sensitive head over and over without reaching farther down my shaft, I was afraid I might again prove a minute man. Thankfully, I didn't, but I really couldn't compare Dad's face to that.
But it was a rather nice cherry on top.
How I did it, I couldn't have said, but this time, I managed to hold out for a while. It felt better than good to be inside her. I was on the brink of an orgasm pretty much from word one. But on the brink I remained as I fucked Mom for all I was worth.
The sheer disbelief at what we were doing was itself a powerful source of arousal. As was the disbelief I felt when comparing her narrow waist to her wide hips and huge ass.
Mom again coached me through it. But I didn't seem to need as much help getting it right this time. By turns, I fondled and lightly slapped her ass then leaned forward and groped her hanging breasts. She let me know when it was time to switch from one to the other. There was no way I'd ever get enough of either, so I didn't really mind either way.
Then my mother pulled her legs tightly together, and I felt the vice grip of her pussy constrict still further around my hard cock. My eyes rolled back in my head and all the oxygen left my lungs. Mind-numbing ecstasy overwhelmed me. In how sudden and completely it shrank my universe, leaving me incapable of processing anything else, it was like a kick to the balls. Yet it was for exactly the opposite reason that her little maneuver left me stunned.
It felt like several minutes before I regained my senses. In truth, it was less than a second, I knew. But it was a long
When I did at last regain control, I decided that I'd had enough of following along with Mom's carefully choreographed dance. No longer could I monitor my pace, keeping track of whether my hands were dwelling too long in one spot, and so forth.
I let into her. Like an animal.
What my mother's reaction to this was, I couldn't have said. All I could hear was the loud slaps of skin on skin as I rammed into her over and over and over. It echoed through the otherwise silent bedroom. To my ears, the sounds we made as we reveled in the most universally reviled of acts were so loud, I was sure that the neighbors must have heard. Of course, they probably weren't even home, and if they were, they'd assume it was my father servicing my mother, not her teenage son.
But the mere thought that maybe, just maybe, someone might know what was happening inside these walls somehow pushed me to work faster still.
At least at first, all I could hear was the sound of skin meeting skin. But eventually, in the brief lulls between my rapid strokes, I heard other sounds. Like my father's accelerated breathing. Or my mother's whimpers and grunts. Or, best of all, the occasional words of encouragement she whispered to me, when she managed to gather enough breath to do so.
"Oh, yes, baby, that's it," or, "Mommy is yours for the taking," or, "Give me that fat cock," or "That's right, honey, don't hold back," she would say.
As I felt her monster orgasm sweep over her, making her insides spasm and her hips jerk, I knew my own was a mere moments away. "Inside?" I asked, breathlessly.
Of course not. I didn't have a condom on. As wrong as this was, casual sex was one thing. Risking my mother conceiving a child that would somehow both be my sibling and my own offspring was not a line we needed to cross.
But just at the moment, the idea of leaving her womb, of sacrificing even a few extra moments of the pleasures she was visiting upon me, sounded too horrible to contemplate.
"Yes, yes, yes," she gasped. That soon became, "YES!" Her scream pierced my ears, threatened the integrity of my ear drums. It was the sweetest sound I'd ever heard.
Whether that was an answer to my question or simply an exclamation of ecstasy, I wasn't sure. But I could always claim afterwards that I'd thought the former.
So with one last powerful thrust, I shoved my fat cock all the way inside my mother. My hands dug into her hips a bit harder than I intended as I sought to stabilize myself, lest I fall over as an intense orgasm descended upon me. She didn't seem to mind though. I howled at the tops of my lungs. My balls twitched rapidly, then after a few moments, rose and fell more slowly, driving more and more of my seed up through my shaft and into my mother. I looked down in wonder at those glorious white orbs pressed against me, and smiled. She still wasn't done milking me. I could feel her walls contracting and relaxing again and again, a little slower each time, as they sought to ensure that every last drop had been harvested.
"Mmm, Frank, honey, I've never seen you like that," Mom said.
Her little hands were wrapped tightly around Dad's ankles. I could see little pink indentations where her nails had dug into his skin, not quite drawing blood. I guess she'd been squeezing his legs the way she might ordinarily have done to the bedposts all along. Yet Dad had said not a word.
"I haven't either," I said with a laugh.
Mom purred. "You hear that, honey?" she asked Dad. "Your old woman brings the animal out of our young stud here the way those pretty little things he dates can't." Head twisted around to look back towards me, Mom added, "You have no idea how good it made me feel to know that I can make my sweet, thoughtful son turn so primal
I gave her fat ass a slap and watched her smooth skin ripple. "Only you, Mom."
She took a moment to gather her breath before doing the little instant clean-up trick. The cum dribbling down her thighs evaporated. As did the sweat in her hair, and elsewhere. She stood up, looking and smelling as clean and fresh as when we'd begun.
"So. About time for that DP?" Dad asked, rubbing his palms together.
"Not right now, honey," Mom said. "Why don't you go and see if you can't fix us up a nice lunch or something. Frank and I are going to be starved when we're done, since I'm not sure either of us is leaving this room for a few more hours."
Dad cleared his throat noisily. "Yes, dear."
True to her word, Mom kept me occupied for a few hours after that.
She introduced me to titty-fucking, which wasn't as fun as being inside her, but was nice enough all the same. If ever there was a pair that was made for it, it was hers. I also finally found out just how good her blowjobs could be when she went down on me again. And that was just the tip of the iceberg.
However, later that afternoon, she got her DP, and I saw just how rough she liked Dad to get. And that last part in particular was no fun at all.
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with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.
<a href="http://www.lushstories.com/stories/incest/homelands-pt-2-ch-02.aspx">Homelands Pt 2 Ch 02</a>