Homelands Pt 2 Ch 11
A turning point for Frank and Ellen.
Dripping with sweat from a longworkout, I headed towards my quarters. As I rounded the corner from the bedroom to the bathroom, I stopped dead in my tracks.
Deirdre sat on the lip of my private hot tub. Her many visages all wore very formal garments, though of a great many different types. One wore a business suit. One a silk toga. Several wore traditional dresses.
"Uh, hey," I said.
"Hello, Frank," she said, uncrossing her legs and standing up.
"You here on business?"
"No, I'm sneaking around behind my brother's back."
"Right. So shall we get down to it then?"
"It is nice to see you again, though," she said.
I cleared my throat. "Same here."
She hesitated then went up on her tiptoes, or maybe leaned down, depending on which version of her you looked at, and kissed my cheek. Then she stepped back, tucked her hands behind her, and stared at her feet.
Fuck. Of course, I was hard. That was helpful.
"Sorry," she said. "Shouldn't have done that."
"It's okay," I said. "Give me a minute to get dressed, then we can talk in my office." I gestured to the door leading from my bedroom down the hall.
"Okay," she said. She hesitated, perhaps contemplating kissing me again, then left.
In classic passive-aggressive form, I took my time. I lingered in the shower, letting the hot water loosen my muscles.
When I finally decided I'd kept Deirdre waiting long enough, I found her sitting across from my desk. She had her hands folded in her lap, waiting as patiently as you please.
"Sorry about that," I said.
"Not at all," she replied. I could sense a bit of longing, but truth be told, it was faint. What I felt more powerfully was guilt and pity.
That last bit helped get rid of my erection but quick.
There was some genuine desire there, yes. But I'd be a fool to read much into it. And her brother had surely sent her in his place precisely because he'd hoped that seeing her again would arouse the sorts of emotions in me that would enfeeble me.
So I did my best to ignore it, and not to resent her for something that wasn't her fault.
"My brother says your terms are quite intriguing," she said after I took my seat.
She sighed, but quickly recovered her cool. "He sends me with a counter-offer. Lily is free to join you in the Third Autumnal Court if she so desires. And Silas is prepared to grant his approval for the Elevation of the mortal Holly. Our two courts will also formally declare peace, and offer free passage for any nobles from one court to the other.
"In return, you will deliver Tara of House Orwin to us personally, as originally proposed." So far, so good. "You will also surrender to him the first born son or daughter of one out of every three nobles of your court."
I didn't hesitate a moment before saying, "One in five, like I said, or no deal."
"You can take a day or two to consult with-"
"No. Don't need to consult with anyone. Tell him that I mean no offense, but one in three is simply not going to happen. I'm flirting with rebellion as it is."
She sighed. "Okay. He didn't think you'd go for it, but he made me swear that I'd ask. If you hesitated enough, I was instructed to at least push for one in four. But I'll have to tell him that you wouldn't budge." With a grin, she added, "And that I tried really, really hard to get you to cave before I backed off."
I laughed. "So we have a deal then?"
"We do." She rose and shook my hand. Then leaned in for a hug. For a moment I thought it might go farther, or that she perhaps had more that she wanted to say. But Deirdre simply nodded, waved goodbye, and vanished.
The prison world to which Tara and her family had been exiled was pleasant enough. It was like someone had plucked a random piece of modern American surburbia up and placed it in a self-contained world. It was even populated by a few thousand mortals. I wish my own exile had been more like theirs.
Of course, I'd found myself sitting atop the throne not long after mine had ended, whereas my aunt's ended with her being Devoured by Silas.
My cousins, though, were spared that fate. After they'd sworn fealty to me, I'd set them free to come and go as they pleased. I didn't even ask them to become vassals, as Iva had insisted that I should. So, no, the Homelands had not been entirely kind to them. But they certainly could have suffered worse.
Like the fate to which Brianna had been condemned.
The entire world she inhabited was a great big void. She simply floated there in that dark abyss with utter emptiness stretching out infinitely in every direction. It was a world without color, without sounds or smells, without light or warmth.
I willed a minimal setting into being. We now stood along the curb on a strip of roadside, with a lamppost overhead and a park bench beside us. The road went nowhere, and was no more than a dozen yards from end to end. But it eased the sense of infinite nothingness.
My cousin, the former queen, jerked her head up, looking from me to the surroundings I'd created. Her brow furrowed, her lips tightened. "What are you doing here?"
"I thought you'd be glad to see a familiar face."
She scoffed, taking a seat at the park bench and tucking her hands under her slender thighs. "I guess. Is this real? I'm not hallucinating?"
"No, you're not," I said, settling down beside her.
"Of course not. During my bouts of madness, when I start thinking I'm not the only one here after all, it's not you who's here with me."
By the wounded tone, you'd think it was I who'd exiled her, rather than the other way around. Not that Deirdre's quarters compared to this place, but still.
"Lovely to see you too," I said.
She tossed a lock of hair behind her shoulder. "So let me guess. Jack negotiated your release, and as soon as you returned, you immediately set to work plotting his overthrow. And now you sit where you'd always wanted. Poor fucking kid."
I jerked my head back. Jack, who had sentenced her to this fate, who'd allowed everyone to believe that he'd Devoured her and thus might well have ensured that even once the throne passed back into Orwin hands, she might be left here, alone and forgotten, that Jack, he was worthy of her sympathy, whilst I deserved nothing but scorn?
"I am king now, yes, but it wasn't me who did for Jack," I said, voice flat.
"How long have I been here?" she asked, looking away.
I sighed, told myself to look at it from her point of view.
It was no wonder she was a bit testy. I wouldn't last long in this place.
"Two years or so, in the Homelands," I said. "How long has it been in here?"
"Can't tell," she said. "In case you haven't noticed, there aren't a lot of clocks around. Or a sun. Or anything. But it wouldn't shock me to know that it had been more like ten."
"Sorry. I didn't know." I started to say more, then swallowed the words.
She peered at me from the corner of her eyes. "So, what, you came here to gloat? To insist that you're actually the most benign dictator the court has ever seen? Because, let me tell you, Frank, I just don't fucking care."
"No," I said. "I've come to-"
Brianna shook her head. "No, really, I don't care. At all. I'm sure I was wrong about you, in all kinds of ways. Great. Swell. I was wrong about a lot of things. Probably even deserve this fate. But whatever you have to say, I'd rather you just leave me alone."
I reached across the bench and took her hand in mine. Despite her words, she didn't resist. In fact, I felt her Libido soar at that simple little gesture, and not because I'd put any effort into trying to elicit such a response. I wondered what must it be like for one of our kind to go a decade without knowing the touch of another person.
"I don't think anyone deserves this fate," I said. "Jack might have thought he was doing you a favor by exiling you instead of Devouring you, but even so, this is extreme."
"Right," she said, "like being Deirdre's personal sex slave. That must have been so hard on you. It's a wonder you made it out alive."
"That's all right," I said, giving her hand a squeeze. "You're entitled to a few of those. I'd be a bit cagey too, if I were you."
She closed her eyes and sighed. "Okay, obviously I'm projecting a little. Thank you, Captain Sensitive. What do you want me to say? This has been a total fucking nightmare. Part of me would love to tell you that I could do another ten years without any trouble, because I can't stand the thought of you seeing me like this, but, yeah, this is positively unbearable, and it's kinda got me in just a little bit of a pissy mood. If you don't like that, you can go shove a spiked mace up your ass."
"How would you like to leave?"
Brianna opened her eyes. "Please, don't fuck with me, Frank. I know I'd deserve it if you did. But don't. I don't think I could take it."
I lifted her hand up and kissed it. "I'm serious, Brie. I want you to return to court."
"What? Are you crazy? No way." She tucked a curl of red-brown hair behind an elfin ear. "I mean, yeah, I'd love to leave this wretched place. But I thought you were talking about transferring me to one of the softer prison worlds. Now, that, I'd really appreciate. But you'd be a fool to let me return to court, and I don't want to besides. Couldn't bear facing everyone again. Not after what I did."
I slid closer to her, wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and kissed her head. She moaned softly and laid her head on my shoulder. "Brie, you didn't do anything that bad."
"I Devoured my parents. Because I could."
"Okay, you've got a point there," I said. And she really did. Maybe this was a bad idea. Nonetheless, I said, "But that doesn't mean you can't come back. You've obviously had time to reflect on what you did, and suffered for it."
My cousin leaned up and kissed me on the cheek. "That's, well, that's really sweet of you, Frank. And I don't want to sound unappreciative. Knowing that you can forgive me, after the way I delighted in torturing, terrifying, and manipulating you, meas a lot to me. But I don't even know if I trust myself. What if I'm duly repentant now, sitting here in my abyss, but go right back to my old ways once I return? How do you know I won't try to depose you? What credibility could anything I say now possibly have?"
"Did you enjoy sitting on the throne?" I asked.
"How do you know I didn't?" she asked. "With all due respect, you don't know anything about me. Never did. You saw what you wanted to see."
"Okay, so I shouldn't have presumed. Now I'm asking, did you enjoy it?"
She sighed. "I guess I didn't really understand you either, because I have to admit that it genuinely surprises me that you apparently consider it to be an unbearable burden. But I've got to say, as much as I regret some of what I did, I'd be lying if I told you that I hated having all that power. Doesn't that prove what a terrible person I am?"
She pulled her feet up onto the bench and tucked them behind her. "How do you figure?"
"I don't think you'd be scared of returning if you were."
"Bullshit," she said. "You don't think some of the most wretched people in history have been aware that they were monsters? Haven't you ever heard that most serial killers confessed that they'd wanted to be caught? Please tell me you're not still this naive."
"I don't think that's you though."
"I guess I'm one or two shy of serial."
I frowned at her. She just kept staring at me with those emerald green eyes, unrelenting. But when I kissed the top of her head again, she leaned into it.
"Fine. If you don't want to come back, you don't have to. I'll let you stay in self-imposed exile as long as you like. And I'll move you to one of the more bearable prison worlds. But I'm going to keep visiting you, and one of these days, I'm going to talk you into returning."
"Why?" she asked. "What did I ever do to make you think that's a good idea?"
It was a good question.
"Maybe it's what I did," I said. "I've had time to think about things too. Time to step back and try and put myself in your shoes. Time to think about what I was willing to do to get to where I am, and what I'm willing to do to stay there. I think you were wrong about me in some ways, yes, but not by nearly as much as I wanted to think. I'm not sure I like what I've become. I guess that showing you mercy helps ease my conscience."
She sat back upright, pulled away from me. "In that case, you can go fuck yourself."
Brianna crossed her arms under her breasts. "I don't want your pity, Frank, and I sure don't want to be responsible for your redemption. It's hard enough carrying the weight of the chains I forged for myself, let alone someone else's."
"I'm not asking you to be responsible for anything. I'm going to do this because I think I should, and that's all there is to it. If you say 'no' a thousand times, I'll keep coming to see you, and keep asking you to come home. And you can just keep right on refusing, if that's what you feel is best. What's important to me is that you have the choice."
The stiffness went out of my cousin's back. I thought I felt a faint stirring in her Libido. Not lust. But maybe...affection?
"I just might say 'no' a thousand times, you know," she said, though the edge had left her voice. It was almost hard to remember she'd once had the cutest voice.
I put my arm around her once more, and with a sigh, she leaned back against me.
"So, how does Aunt Ellen like being your Shadow?"
"She's not. Iva is," I said.
Brie shook her head. "Oh, I know, it makes perfect sense. I just didn't think you'd be willing to explain to your mother why you chose another woman."
I laughed. "Well, she certainly didn't love it. I'm not sure I'm done paying for it either."
Brie smiled softly. "I missed you, you know."
For a moment, I was too stunned to respond. Then I said, "Probably missed everyone."
"I don't just mean while I've been stuck here. Even while I was still queen, and you were Silas' captive. Or his sister's. Whatever. You drove me crazy, and when you were taken captive, I didn't feel as bad for you as maybe I should have. But despite that, I still missed you. Missed your touch. Your voice. Your lame sense of humor. The way you can be the most arrogant, self-impressed bastard alive and yet still somehow be capable of the kind of selfless behavior for which our kind is somewhat less than renowned."
Finally, we kissed. Tenderly, at first. But with growing intensity. And hunger. Before long, she was straddling my hips and dry humping me. My hands ran over her body, hiked up her little skirt, sought out her small but round ass.
Brianna was out of practice. And I'd grown a lot stronger since we'd last seen each other. But she hadn't forgotten how to make me cum from a mere kiss.
When I hooked a few fingers in her panties and pulled them aside, though, she sat back sharply, forcing me to withdraw my hands.
"Something wrong?" I asked.
"It's just that...I was thinking about Devouring you. Just now. I mean, I seriously considered it. Really, really wanted to do it."
"Your emotions must be going crazy," I said.
"No, Frank. Fuck. Stop trying to make everything okay, will you?" she asked, throwing her hands up. "You know what stopped me? It sure as shit wasn't my conscience. I sensed how powerful you've become, and it frightened me. That's it."
"I see," I said. Though I didn't believe it was as simple as that.
Brianna slipped out of my lap. "I think you should take me to my new prison and then go. And don't come back too soon."
Though Wendy hadn't said a word in protest when I told her I had to cancel my afternoon meeting with her, I knew she wasn't likely to forgive me for it any time soon. And that was only partly because she would miss my tongue. We had a great many matters to discuss. The First Wintry Court had waited to make sure that this king was going to last more than a week before sending an ambassador, and Iva assured me that if there was one ruler worth taking more seriously than Silas, it was Daphne.
But I'd put off having this conversation with Mom for entirely too long.
As it happened, one of the minor nobles whose face I recognized but couldn't put a name to was just leaving Mom's chambers when I arrived.
"Hard at work, your majesty," Mom giggled, fanning her sweaty pussy with a bare hand.
"So I see."
"Hmm. That's a tone." She slipped out of bed, flipped her hair back, and cleaned herself up. A beige silk robe appeared from nowhere, wrapping itself around her without any help from her hands. "I've Devoured one little lordling for you, now. Still one more to go, but, technically, that's infinitely many more than when last we spoke," she said, with a smile.
"That's not what I came here to talk about," I said. Then, forcing a little warmth back into my voice, I added, "But that's good. I didn't doubt you'd eventually do as I'd asked, but it is best if that's done sooner rather than later."
"I know, I know," my mother said. She sat in front of a vanity mirror and ran a brush through her hair, though it was hardly needed. Her black mane could not have been more beautiful. "Why so serious? You're making me nervous."
I guess I hadn't adjusted my tone as much as I'd thought. "It's nothing."
"Honey, if this is just the way you're going to be all the time now that you're king-"
"There's something I've been meaning to talk to you about," I said. "It doesn't have anything to do with me being king," I added. "This is personal."
"Oh," Mom said, putting her brush down. She turned around, holding the right armrest of her chair with her left hand. "Okay, so let's talk. Should I fix us a drink?"
"This isn't a 'yay, good news, happy time' kind of talk," she said. It wasn't a question. "Right. No frozen margaritas then." She flashed a grin at me, which I forced myself to return. But it must have been obvious that it was feigned, because Mom's sincere grin turned into a frown, and quick. "Here," she said curtly, handing me a rocks glass filled with three fingers' worth of caramel colored liquor.
I took a sip. Fine, single malt Scotch. Extra peaty. Very smoky. I took a deep, satisfied breath and exhaled slowly.
"Please tell me this isn't about rough sex. I've said all I intend to say about that."
"It's not," I said.
Mom tried the Scotch. She coughed, stuck out her tongue, and made various and egregious sounds of disgust.
Which was nothing compared to her reaction when I told her about Iva.
Everything there was to tell.
I'm not sure exactly what I said. It was almost like I wasn't really in my body at that point. Like when I divided my consciousness. If I'd forgotten to create any other bodies, that is. And had also forgotten to leave any behind in the first one. I guess it wasn't alike at all, but it was the only comparison that came to mind. Somehow or other, though, it all came out. How I'd known what she had planned for Patrick. Had given her the green light in exchange for her agreeing to stay on as Shadow. The way I wasn't sure what I felt for her, that it didn't compare to what Mom and I had, but I couldn't deny that it was something much more powerful than what I felt for anyone other than Mom.
For a long while after I finished, we sat in silence. I finished my Scotch, and Mom refreshed my glass without a word. Her own sat untouched but for that first taste.
"Well, aren't you going to say something?"
"You should have told me. A lot sooner," she replied.
"Yes, I should have," I said.
"And don't tell me it was because you've been too busy with work," she said.
"No, I know," I said. "I wasn't. I was just too cowardly to-"
"Damn right it was cowardly," she said. "And don't think that by agreeing with me you can calm me down, mister."
I tipped my glass back silently.
She picked up her glass, tossed the Scotch onto the carpet, and poured a shot of tequila into the glass in its stead. When she slammed the newly summoned bottle down, I thought for sure it would crack. The shot disappeared momentarily. Then was followed nearly as quickly by another. After she took a patient sip of her third shot, she said, "I'm not going to tell you that I wouldn't have been mad if you'd told me earlier. I would be. Because, honestly, this fucking sucks, Frank. And I shouldn't have to pretend that the only reason I'm upset is because you didn't tell me in order to also be upset about that."
"You're right," I said.
"Would you fucking say something in your defense!" Mom tossed her glass at me. I ducked my head in time to avoid it. "You're trying to make it hard for me to be angry at you, and that's no fair either."
"It's not like we're in a rela-"
"Oh, are we back to that old line, then?" she asked. "Would you perhaps like to remind me again how I once told you that it was just sex? It's been so long since I heard that."
I stared at my feet.
"Do you want to know why I Devoured your Grandpa Dick, Frank?" she asked.
Before I could get the "Yes," out of my mouth, she started to answer.
"He wanted to overthrow Kaitlin. It had been more than sixteen years since I'd talked him down from the brink the first time, when an issue I'd thought resolved flared back up. He'd grown incensed about...nevermind what he was upset about. I'd made my family swallow their objections when I married House Farrier's only remaining son. Which I did so no more lives would be lost. And I still wondered if it was worth the price."
I gestured for her to continue. Then immediately regretted it.
But, thankfully, she was too wrapped up in her story to realize that I'd given her another good reason to throw something at me.
"I'd managed it once, though," she said. "Held the whole damn court together. With my cunt. How do you like that? Mommy spread her legs, and lives were saved."
The vein in her forehead was throbbing. I forced myself not to cringe.
"So how else was I to do it again? Why, with my magical cunt, of course. So I took my father inside me, and he's never left." Mom summoned a new glass and took another shot of tequila. "I did it for you, you ungrateful little shit," she said. "My father assured me that Gus wouldn't dare lift a finger against his own children. But your father has never loved anyone the way he loves those Farrier women. Cindy most of all, maybe, but his mother only slightly less. There was no way in hell I was going to let my father gamble with your lives. So I saved Kaitlin's life, though not out of any love her. And I told her to exile Tara again. Did you know she'd come back? It was our mother that exiled her in the first place, but Kaitlin had allowed her to return. The reason you never met your aunt until recently, the aunt you've traded away like a pile of poker chips, is because I didn't want her to carry out our father's last wish."
I took a few steps towards my mother, arms outstretched to hug her. She batted them away and turned her back to me. "Aren't you glad we're opening up to each other?"
Though I thought there was a better than even chance that she'd elbow me in the ribs or kick me in the balls, I decided to try hugging my mother again anyway. To my great relief, she let me. She offered a little token resistance, but after a few moments, pulled my arms tighter around her and leaned her head back against my chest.
"I love you," I said. "I don't mean that like I did when I said it as a child."
"Frank," she said. "You could not have possibly chosen a worse time to tell me."
"I mean it. I-"
"Stop," she said. "I don't know if it would upset me more if you did mean it or if you were just saying it because I'm mad at you. But either way, keep that to yourself. You know that's not...that's just not something you should say."
I kissed the top of her head.
"I Devoured the most important man in my life in order to protect you. And now her daughter is taking you away from me. I wish I hadn't stopped him."
"She's not," I said. "No one's taking me away from you."
"What about your blushing bride to be?"
I didn't respond.
"Between those two, and let's not forget Wendy, I'm never going to see you."
Mom sighed. "It's not that. I don't care you if you never stick another finger or tongue inside Wendy. She's still going to get more of your time and attention than I will."
She snapped her fingers and handed me the envelope that appeared.
With my mouth and one hand, I pulled the letter out. It hardly said anything. Some Bobby character wanted her to travel to the First Wintry Court to speak with him. Wouldn't say why, but he swore it was something she'd want to hear.
"Pretty cryptic," I said. "You can't-"
"I'm going," she said.
I started to argue, but thought better of it. "When?"
"Tomorrow," she said. "As of now."
Those three words cut deep. She hadn't decided how to respond.
But I knew I couldn't talk her out of it. "When will you return?"
"I don't know," she said.
Without a word, I led her over to the bed and stripped her robe off.
For a while, I simply studied her magnificent form. I'd never quite gotten my mind to accept that she was built the way she was, and half the time I looked at her, I felt as if I was seeing her for the first time. Except, for all I knew, this was going to be the last time.
The only visible hair on her body was a well-trimmed triangle over her little kitten. The black curls were cut close against her body, and didn't obstruct my view of her swollen, pink lips in the least. Her clitoris had not yet decided that it was ready to join the party. Her labia were thick and puffy, begging to be sucked.
As fascinated as I was by what was between her legs, and I was fascinated, I couldn't deny my eyes the pleasure of thoroughly drinking in the rest of her divine beauty one last time before letting her go. She did not have the kind of body women's magazines glorified. Rather, she personified an older conception of beauty, the kind that one found in fertility statues. Her hips were broad and rounded and her waist impossibly narrow in relation to them. A glass tube filled with sand that had her proportions would be better suited to marking the passage of an afternoon than an hour.
Her thighs were full and soft, thick near the top, thin near the knees. The heads of her quadriceps were faintly visible. Her calves were sharply curved, her ankles far more delicate and her feet more slender than one would expect after looking at her thighs. Thick as they were, those thighs should have invited comparison to cottage cheese rather than marble, but her skin was impossibly smooth and fair, entirely free of dimpling, cellulite, shaving nicks, birth marks, or any imperfection.
Then there were her breasts. They hung past the bottom of her ribcage, but they were still reasonably firm. They were round, the sides of them pressing against the insides of her elbows and the lower part of her biceps, rather than droopy, as breasts that large often were. Her nipples pointed out at me, not down at the floor. They were thick and puffy, even when fully engorged. As they were now. They had turned from their usual medium pink to a darker pink that was nearly brown. Her areola were as nearly wide across as my palms. On a smaller pair of breasts, that would have looked freakish. But as large as my mother's breasts were, the dark circles were still small islands in a pale sea.
Even if I hadn't noticed the swelling of her labia, the way her clitoris was just starting to peak out from under its hood, or the darkening of her nipples, I'd have known she was every bit as aroused as I was. Her Libido pulsed steadily, like a beating heart. It wasn't exactly heat that emanated from her. I was sure that I would in fact soon discover that her skin was largely cool to the touch, save in a few choice places. But there was no better way to explain how it felt than to liken it to standing before a fire.
At last, I raised my eyes up to meet her own, noticing along the way that her lower lip trembled with anticipation. My mother's eyes were big and round, rather than almond shaped. The deep brown of her irises contrasted nearly as sharply with her pale skin as with the whites of her eyes. The same went for the forest of long lashes, the generous amount of dark eyeliner and eye-shadow that she wore, and her dark eyebrows. Though her brows were nearly as wide across as the tip of a finger at their widest point, they were not bushy.
I'd often thought her face a bit too soft, her nose a bit too broad, the set of her mouth almost sad. And I had to admit I still did think so, to some extent. I couldn't in all honesty say she was as pretty as even Natalie or Iva, let alone Brianna. But it was only in comparison to those supernatural beauties that she came up short. If I'd never had the misfortune of laying eyes on those other women, women who could never hold the same power over me that my mother did, I'd have thought her the prettiest women I'd ever seen.
"Frank," she moaned. One hand twitched, looking as though it wanted to guide me to her. But it fell back to her side.
It made no difference. Simply hearing the longing in her voice, seeing in her eyes and feeling in her Libido the truth of that desire, was enough to beckon me forward.
My movements were slow, precise, and confident. I knew how it excited her to see the animal in me come out. But I wanted to savor this. There'd be time enough to submit to my primal urges later. Until then, control was the name of the game.
Mom hardly spoke. I wasn't sure what there was left to say anyway. But her body told me nearly everything I needed to know, with her powerful Libido filling in the gaps.
I'd not yet had the pleasure of taking either her breasts or her womanhood in my mouth when her first orgasm overtook her.
My lips formed a seal around a gently protruding hip bone. Perhaps I used a little energy to heighten her sensitivity, allowed the lightest sparks of the blue bolts of ecstasy to accompany the strokes of my tongue. But I thought it likely that she would have climaxed anyway, even though it might have taken a little longer to get her there.
At any rate, that first orgasm was a modest affair. The very fact that she'd cum before I'd gotten past her hips aroused us both further, but that's about all it did.
When I went to work on her breasts, however, that changed. With one of her nipples rolling back and forth between my fingers and the other helpless before my lips and tongue, Mom experienced a second, more powerful climax. This one did not last much longer than the first, but it wracked her body intensely, and rather than sighing softly as she had a moment before, she screamed wildly.
I left two disembodied hands and a spectral mouth to continue playing with her beautiful breasts while I kissed a trail down her stomach, through her carefully gardened patch, to her life-giver. Before launching my assault, I took a moment to enjoy her smell. This was how all women should smell. There was a hint of sweat, a slight pungency, but also a trace of the sweetness that I knew awaited me. I breathed in deeply through my nostrils, exhaled slowly, then settled in to enjoy my feast.
Oftentimes, when I serviced my mother orally, I liked to tease her. Start with light, fleeting touches, dragging the very tip of my tongue over her outer labia again and again before slowly working my way deeper inside. Not this time. Though I didn't cut straight to maximum intensity, neither did I start at the bottom of the scale. Nor did I waste time growing an extra tongue. As one slid in and out of her vagina, curling in a way no human tongue could to envelope her G-spot, another alternately stimulated her labia, the hood surrounding her clitoris, and her stiff little pleasure button itself.
Her secretions were thick and phlegmy from the start, due to her two previous orgasms. The berry taste was more prominent than usual. At first, I found that disorienting. But I quickly decided that it only added to the pleasure.
My tongues slowly coached her hole into opening up wider, and plunged deeper and deeper into her. As I fucked her with my tongue, I stepped up the assault on her clitoris, spending less and less time on her labia.
The movement of Mom's hips went from slow and rhythmic to wild and spasmodic. Her arms flailed about wildly, slamming into the soft mattress. Faintly, I heard her moan, and realized the sound had to have been muffled because she was biting down on a pillow.
I guided her through orgasm after orgasm, each more intense than the last. When her warm ejaculate gushed over me, I finally let up.
"Ungh...fuck, baby...that was perfect," she said.
Though I wanted to feel her mouth wrapped around my cock, all my careful restraint suddenly fled. I just couldn't wait any longer to dominate her. I knelt in front of her and, somewhat less than gently, forced my monster inside her. As I fucked her, her lips were stretched so tight that they didn't so much part before me as hold onto me.
Just as I was getting close to my first orgasm, I pulled out and told her to get on all fours. Even to my own ears, my voice sounded hard, commanding. Mom's eyes went wide and she licked her full lips before rushing to obey. I took her harshly. Not violently, but far less delicately than I normally did. My hands gripped her broad hips tight while I fucked her as fast and hard as I could. Meanwhile, the floating hands and spectral mouth worked her breasts over more and more vigorously, and another set of hands appeared to squeeze and slap her huge ass. Still more hands stroked and pulled her hair, caressed her back and thighs, gripped her ankles tightly, ran hard knuckles along the bottoms of her feet.
When Mom pulled her thighs together, squeezing me even tighter than she already was, I tried to slow down and enjoy it. For a few strokes, that worked. But I felt the inevitable rushing forth, and I slammed into her as hard as I could, nearly knocking her over. Buried all the way to the hilt, my balls pressed against her warm, moist lips, I groaned and shot my load into the very womb that had nurtured me at the dawn of my existence.
"Oh, fuck, that's it, baby," Mom said.
For a moment, I felt like we were more deeply connected than ever before. Whether the images and sensations flashing through my mind were my own or hers, I couldn't have said. At least a few almost had to have been Mom's. It wouldn't have occurred to me to imagine that she would take pleasure knowing that no man, mortal or otherwise, had ever filled her with so much cum. Though I can't pretend I'd never fantasized about it, I think the thought of her son giving her a son of his own was one that had briefly flashed through her mind.
Iva had said we couldn't read minds. Maybe that was only because she'd never been as close to anyone as Mom and I were to one another just then.
No, that wasn't it. I wasn't really reading her mind. I tried to pick out more of her thoughts, and nothing came to me.
But for a moment there, it had certainly felt like I had.
She wiggled her hips, and I felt life stirring in my loins again. I'd thought I might need a moment to recover, but perhaps I didn't. My cock was still hungry, and there was only one dish that would serve.
"How's that feel, sweetie? Are you going to miss this? No other woman makes you feel this way, does she?" my mother asked.
"None," I said.
"That's right, baby. Only your dear old mother."
Mom's knees buckled and she leaned forward, going down from all fours to lie flat on her stomach. I stayed inside her, following her down, preparing to fuck her Jockey style. She squeezed her soft thighs together tightly, and her warm embrace drew me deeper in, surrounded me completely. With her great white orbs lying between us, pressing against me, resisting me, I had to work harder to give her the proper fucking she deserved. But it was worth it. And the feel of her soft cheeks against my shaft as I slid in and out of her was almost as glorious as the warmth of her pussy. I kneaded her ass like dough, pressing my fingers deep into her soft skin, delighting in the way she moaned and purred as I did.
"You like Mommy's ass?" she asked.
"You have no idea," I said.
Her cheeks suddenly snapped tight, and I gasped for air. It was so tight. There was no way I could have stood that amount of pressure for long, but she relented quickly, and the brief, unanticipated sensation felt amazing.
I slapped her ass hard with an open palm and started ramming her harder and faster.
"Yes, yes, give it to me. Give Mommy her young hard cock!"
Hearing her describe it as hers made me pummel her with even greater force. I heard the bed groaning nearly as loud as my mother. Perhaps I should have cared about that, but I didn't. When, just a minute later, the frame collapsed beneath us and the mattress dropped a few feet to settle on the floor, we simply laughed and kept right on going.
"Oh, baby, I'm getting there. I just love the way that big fat dick of yours feels. Love having back inside me, where you've always belonged," Mom said.
She exploded so violently, it was a wonder she didn't snap my dick right off. Her Libido was like a mushroom cloud. Its sudden and rapid swelling nearly knocked me out. But I managed to retain consciousness, and between the things her body did to me as it sought to milk still more of my fertile seed and the feel of her Libido going wild, I reached another orgasm of my own. Both of our climaxes lasted far longer than our bodies should have been able to withstand. Long after I'd pumped so much cum inside her that it spilled back out of her, I kept cumming. I pulled out, watched my jizz dribble and ooze out of her, watched her lips twitch as the spasms of her orgasm continued, albeit more gently than before. As I watched, I held my cock just above her ass, too tired and too transfixed by her beauty to bother to give myself more than a few languid strokes. Still more jets of cum shot out, landing in sticky ropes on my mother's gorgeous humps.
Over the next few hours, we each had a rather immodest number of intense orgasms. But we hardly kissed at all, and I felt little affection. It was angry sex. Not rough or violent sex. But not sweet or affectionate, as our love-making had often been.