Rebecca Bishop leaned against the porch railing of the beach cottage, a plastic cup of rosé in one hand and her iPhone in the other. She'd hoped the familiar isolation of the old house and the warm evening breeze off the Gulf would soothe her raw nerves, as it had on so many visits over the years. Her sons had insisted on this trip together, suggesting that she needed a week's respite from her troubles. But Becca could not let go as easily as she had in her youth. Not this time, anyway.
So, she resorted to her go-to combination for quick stress relief: a little booze and too much porn.
She took another long sip of wine and swiped through the images on her phone. It was her favorite set, featuring a woman getting a massage. The female model was a redhead like Becca, but a few years older, probably in her mid-forties. The "masseuse" was a decent-looking guy in his early twenties. He had a great body and a nice large cock. Becca paused on a shot of the woman looking back at the camera from beneath one bent leg as she straddled the guy on his table. In the foreground, her shaved cunt stretched to accommodate his big dick. Her face was a study in dreamy satisfaction.
Becca glanced over her shoulder at the window of the cottage, assuring herself that neither of her sons could see her from inside. She set her cup on the weathered wooden railing and ran her fingers lightly across her halter top, teasing her stiff nipples through the thin nylon fabric. She wondered, as she often did, if her masturbatory fantasies were healthy, or even normal--whatever that meant. Sure, the last six months, since she and Cal had separated, had been the longest dry spell of her life where sex was concerned. But she thought there was something weird, even mildly dangerous in her fixation on porn involving women fucking guys half their age.
The screen door of the house squeaked on its rusted springs. She covered her phone hurriedly as her older son, Michael, stepped out onto the porch.
"Paul fixed the hot tub," he said.
"Oh! Good." Becca snatched up her cup and took a nervous swallow. "I was, uh, about to call Lindsey and ask her to have Matt come look at it. I really didn't want to; she's already been way too thoughtful. She took most of a day out of her own vacation to open this place up for us. And on such short notice."
"There's a box with a breaker switch on the fence post around back. Paul says that's always the problem, just flip it and the pump starts right up." Michael joined his mother in gazing out at the ebb tide a few hundred feet away. "Kid never forgets anything. How long since the last time we were here all together? Three, four years?"
"Three. Three years ago, the last summer before Paul...before he took off." Becca leaned into Michael's side. "I'm so glad that he's come home for this. With you going off to med school next month, this might be our last chance to spend time here before your father's lawyers do...I don't know, whatever the fuck they're gonna try to do to me."
"I shouldn't be leaving you right now at all. You shouldn't have to deal with this divorce shit alone." Michael put his arm protectively around her. "Anyway, isn't this place in your name?"
"I'm not certain. I've got to gather all those papers up for my attorneys. I was so damned weak when your dad and I first married, I pretty much did anything he wanted me to about finances...and everything else. It was such a long time ago." She lifted her cup to her lips again. It was starting to hit her; she felt tipsy. "My great-granddad sank the pilings for this place a couple of years after the war, did I ever tell you that?"
"You might have, a few times." Michael smiled. "Him and his brothers."
"There was a storm out of the Gulf a few years before that. It dug out the inlet that turned this little stretch from a spit into an island. There were maybe four houses left standing on the whole sandbar. A hundred years later there are all of, what, two dozen? Anyway, every summer when I was little Mom and Dad would bring us out for at least a month. Grandma and Granddad would be here, and the cousins and my aunts and uncles would come and go. Me and..." Becca's voice trailed off.
"You okay, Mom? Thinking about Uncle Chris always makes you sad, doesn't it?"
"Yeah." Her older brother had lost his life while fighting in Iraq. Decades later, the wound remained raw. "I wish you could have met him."
Becca sniffed back tears and hugged her son closer, looking up into his sympathetic eyes. At twenty-two years old, Michael was tall, slim and muscular. He took after her side of the family, sharing her coppery hair and sky-blue eyes. Her younger son, Paul, was just as handsome but favored his father. He was only a few inches taller than Becca, dark, and built like a middleweight fighter.
When Michael pulled her closer his mother got the surprise of her life. She was wearing cut-off shorts, and the unmistakable stiffness of his erection pressed against her bare inner thigh. The heat of his cock seared right through his thin, worn jeans.
More shocking still was her body's response. Her pussy was still wet from her looking at porn, and it was as if a floodgate opened between her legs. Instead of stepping away she instinctively pressed herself against him, riding his thigh.
"Oh, Jesus!" Realizing what he'd done, Michael blushed and let Becca go. Her cheeks burned as well, but she couldn't help glancing at his crotch. The visible outline of his cock ran down his pant leg nearly halfway to his knee. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay. Really." Becca reassured him, unable to suppress a nervous giggle at his abashed expression. "Wow, is that really all you?"
"Mom--"
"There I go, now I've embarrassed you." She reached up and ruffled his hair. "To tell the truth, it's a relief that I can still turn a guy on. Not feeling real attractive, lately." Sighing heavily, she added, "But then, I guess it doesn't take much to give a guy your age a hard-on, huh?"
"Don't you believe it." Michael stared at the deck, smiling weakly. "You're prettier than any woman I know, Mom. Dad should be grateful that a babe like you ever gave him a second look. And this is an epically weird conversation to be having with my mother."
"Entirely my fault. I went fishing for a compliment, and you delivered. Blame the wine. I shouldn't be slurping this stuff on an empty stomach." Becca drained the last of her drink. "It was a long drive out from the city."
She took a wobbly step toward the front door, fully aware that the wine wasn't the whole reason for her unsteadiness. She was so goddamn horny that her knees were about to buckle.
Paul sat jackknifed on the rustic pine sofa in the front room, tapping away on the keyboard of a laptop. He barely looked up from what he was doing as she headed for the narrow stair leading to the master bedroom.
"I'm going to lie down for a while," she said. "You guys okay on your own for an hour or two?"
"Always," Paul said absently. "I'm not ten." Seeming to think better of his dismissive tone, he shut the computer's lid and smiled at her. "I'll cook burgers on the stove tonight, maybe six or six-thirty. I'll get it together and grill out back tomorrow, okay?"
"Heavenly. Hope you killed a cow."
"We're stocked up for two weeks. If we want to hang after that we need to catch the ferry to the grocer's."
Paul and Michael watched their mother until she disappeared at the turn of the stairwell landing. "She's so worn down," Michael worried. "And drinking too much lately."
"It'd make this whole thing easier if she got a little smashed, wouldn't it?" Paul said with a smirk.
"Fuck off!"
"Joke. Lighten up."
"You're not funny."
They glared at one another for a few seconds, then Paul shrugged. "Okay, not cool." He opened the laptop again and studied the screen, pointedly avoiding eye contact with his brother. "So, um, are we doing this or not?"
"Doing what?"
"Making it with Mom, idiot. Are we gonna fuck her?"
"You're determined about this, aren't you? It's nuts."
"Like we didn't just talk about it again, yesterday?" Paul retorted. "Hell, we been talking about it forever. This isn't even the first time we've made plans. Like in Aspen a few years back--"
--"That was just you running your mouth stupid mouth."
"You were into it. It was both of us and you know it."
"No, Aspen was your 'I'm finally legal, let's bone Mom' fantasy. And fantasy's all it's ever been. Kind of a sick joke we used to laugh at together."
"That's right. Together."
However much Michael wanted to deny having such perverse fantasies about Becca, Paul was right. Their shared lust for their mother was real, a secret they'd kept between them for years. Michael doubted that most brothers would have confided such notions to each other, even if they harbored them. But despite their age gap and extremely different temperaments, he and Paul had been conspiratorially close as far back as he could remember. They were almost like twins in some respects. He supposed it had its roots in their having made common cause as kids against an emotionally distant and abusive father.
That was until Paul had abruptly dropped out of high school right before graduation and taken off, vagabonding from state to state and rarely reaching out to his family. He did keep in occasional touch with a few of his buddies back home. Michael heard through them that his brother had wound up on the wrong side of the law more than once.
As heartbroken as Becca had been as a result of all this, Michael had taken it even harder. It was as if he'd lost a part of himself--up until a few weeks ago when Michael had sent a message about their parents' separation to the only email address he had for his brother. For the first time since leaving home, Paul responded. He turned up unannounced at home, full of concern for his mother's plight. He seemed a lot more than a couple of years older than the teenager who'd run away from home. Rougher around the edges.
It became clear soon enough that one thing about Paul that hadn't changed was the filial lust for Mom that he and Michael still shared.
So, maybe most guys didn't want to fuck their mothers. But their mothers weren't Rebecca Bishop, a movie-star gorgeous woman of forty who looked for all the world like she was no more than twenty-five. That's how she looked to Michael, anyway. To him, she was perfect, from the lustrous mane of copper-red hair on her head to the toes of her high-arched feet. She was only a few inches over five feet tall, but so high-waisted and long-legged that she might have passed for a tall, elegant runway model.
The only attributes of Becca's figure that some might call disproportionate were her enormous tits--but there again, to Michael, they were just one more aspect of her physical perfection. The best part. He didn't see how he could be expected to live in close quarters with this goddess day after day, year after year, without dreaming about having those long girlish legs wrapped around his back while he sucked those big tits and stroked his cock deep into her pussy.
To top it all off, Michael had frequent opportunities to see his mother naked.
As Becca and Calvin Bishop's marriage had disintegrated, Cal had spent far less time at home. There'd been no one to observe Michael skulking about in the hall outside Mom's bedroom furtively catching long glimpses of her coming in and out from the shower. Her luscious youthful appeal was not an illusion of careful makeup and stylish fashion choices. There was no sag to her ass or legs or belly, a testament to the vigorous daily workout and yoga routines that she'd faithfully followed as long as he could remember. Bereft of a bra or any other artifice, her huge tits were perfect fleshly spheres with the same peaches-and-cream complexion as her face, her thighs, her butt, her...everything. They swayed gently when she moved, perfect pendulums of irresistible allure.
Suffering insomnia brought on by worry, Becca often roamed the house restlessly at night. Sometimes she slouched in front of the big family room TV wearing nothing but a short robe. Unaware that her son was watching her, she'd open that robe and play with herself, masturbating furiously until she dozed off, exhausted.
Mom was a horny, lonely, sexually frustrated woman. Again, the word that came to Michael's mind was "perfect."
And Dad was a fucking moron to give the woman up.
"Dad was with us, in Aspen," Paul said, as if reading his brother's mind. "It wasn't gonna happen then, was it? But the old man's not here and he's probably never coming back. And we couldn't ask for a better place." He spread his arms in a gesture to take in their surroundings: the cottage, the deserted ocean beach beyond, the miles separating the few houses on this remote island.
Michael slumped on the couch beside Paul. "Bro, Mom is not gonna fuck us."
"Well, not with that attitude, she ain't. You getting cold feet? Fine, you just go on about your business, keep on moping around and grabbin' her ass whenever you get a chance."
"What?"
"I saw you two out the front window a couple of minutes ago. I'll tell you something, though...that sure looked like mutual lust, to me."
"Yeah?" Michael was intrigued.
"Fuck, she was dry-humping your leg. Tell you what, maybe this'll help make up your mind." Paul handed him the laptop he'd been fiddling with. Michael recognized it.
"This is Dad's."
"I grabbed it outta the den when we swung by to pick Mom up this morning. Dad's such a dumbass, he keeps his passwords on a post-it in his top desk drawer. And he never signs out of his online accounts, neither."
"So, what, you're planning to drain his bank balance?"
Paul looked genuinely hurt at the accusation. "No, shithead, I was looking for stuff that might help Mom out. Evidence of, what do lawyers call it, alienated affection."
"Adultery. Alienation is different, I think."
"Whatever. So...surprise! I find about a million email messages proving that he fucks around on her. And then there's his AdultFriendFinder and Tinder and God knows what all else. He likes 'em young. Real nice, Dad. But what you want to see is the pictures in his cloud account."
"Why would I want to look at chicks that Dad's--" Michael stopped dead. Center-screen was a POV shot of Becca sucking cock. She had what must have been their father's prick halfway down her throat, and she was wearing nothing but the most blissful expression that Michael had ever seen on her face. The lighting was good enough that he could tell her nipples were hard.
"Most of his homemade porn is other chicks," Paul announced, too pleased with himself. "Some pictures from his office, lots of hotel rooms, even from home. Most are pretty new. This one and a couple others of Mom were taken around ten years old."
"I..." Michael's brain and mouth stuck in neutral, but his cock went into overdrive at the sight of his delectable mother so happily mouthing a man's joint. Even though the dick in question might belong to his detested father. Michael was aroused enough to open a couple of other images. In one, only Dad's cock-knob was in Mom's mouth. Semen leaked and dripped from her mouth.
"So what do you say?"
"God damn," Michael muttered. "God damn, fuck but she's hot." Closing his eyes, he pictured his mother on her knees in front of him, her mouth filled with cum just like in the picture. His cum. He cast a cautious glance toward the staircase leading up to the master bedroom of the cottage.
"All right. I'm in," he said. "Let's fuck Mom."
†††
I ought to be ashamed of myself.
Behind her locked bedroom door, Becca quickly shed her clothes and pawed through her suitcase until she found her dildo.
The toy was a flesh-like tan color, nine inches long, and made of a flexible, yielding silicone sleeve around a firmer core. She rarely used the vibrating function, but the self-warming feature mattered greatly to her. The closer she could get to simulating the experience of a real, living cock penetrating her needy pussy, the better. Other than her fingers, the dildo had been her only source of sexual release in the months since Cal had moved out of the house.
Life without sex was unbearable. She hadn't appreciated how she'd come to take it for granted until she was forced to do without even the occasional, uninspired attentions of her distracted spouse. She'd loved fucking ever since she was young--so much so that after losing her virginity here in this very cottage she'd gone wild the next semester at school. Her arts college was a candy store for a beautiful young woman on the prowl. She'd screwed guys and girls, instructors, full professors, and visiting artists. Eventually, she'd moved in with the dean of women, who'd taken her studies of feminine anatomy to the graduate level.
Meeting Calvin Bishop changed all that. Cal was an accountant, of all things, buttoned-down and a bit too solemn for his age--but he had a big dick that wouldn't quit no matter how many times they got it on in a night. For the second time in her life, Becca was head over heels. She'd lost her first love almost as soon as they'd begun. She swore that this time would be different.
Pregnant on her wedding day, she gave birth to Michael and then Paul in less than two years. But as their early days of lustfully wedded bliss faded into the routines of maintaining a home life for the boys while pouring themselves into their careers, Becca and Cal had grown distant from one another. She'd not fully understood how alienated he'd become until he'd served her with divorce papers.
Alone again, Becca discovered that her libido had not diminished with the passing decades. If anything, as she neared forty she was hornier than she had been even in her early days of taking on as many lovers as she could physically handle as often as she could. She'd confided as much to her best friend, Lindsey.
"I know the feeling well," Lindsey had said cheerfully. "I call it 'the middle-aged hots.'"
"I'm not middle-aged!" Becca had protested. "And neither are you. But I swear to God I'll turn right into an old woman if I don't get a guy between my legs soon. So you've got a name for it, that's swell. But what the hell are you doing about it, since you and Bob split?"
" Let's say I'm as busy as I want to be."
"Linn, you live with your mom and your son. I haven't seen you with another guy in ages."
"Never you mind my sex life." Lindsey's eyes twinkled as if at some private joke. "I can tell you this: it's a known fact that a woman's sex drive peaks decades later than your average man's. If you ask me, gals like me and you are also more honest with ourselves about what we want in a lover. More experimental. And, yeah, just flat-out a lot hornier. Why don't you take one of those twenty-something interns at your studio out for a spin?"
"My HR staff would quit on me in a week," Becca frowned.
"Way to ruin my erotic illusions about the lives of artistes. Well then, expand your horizons outside of your career. Or, here's an idea, start by taking some time off to reconnect and find out who Becca is these days before you go hunting for a new man to get lost in. Or gal."
"I've got too much going on. There's the commissioned installation for the new city plaza..."
"Bullshit. Your assistants can't manage for a couple of weeks?"
"A week, maybe two. You know, my sons have been after me to go out to the island."
"What a great idea! Remember the fun we all had out there when we were kids? Matt and I are going out with my mom next month. I'd be glad to lend him out to you."
"Pardon?"
"Have him drop by your place and set everything up for you. What did you think I meant, you pervert?" Lindsay laughed.! R-right." Lindsey's son Matt was a handsome young man. Becca was afraid that her misunderstanding revealed too much about her own lurid imaginings. "Thanks, but I'm afraid that I've had enough of solitude, lately."
"Then go with Paul and Michael." There it was, that mischievous spark in Lindsey's eyes again. "Family can be such a comfort, don't you agree?"
"Comfort" wasn't the word Becca would have used for the way she felt about Michael lately. Being abandoned by Cal had removed an unsuspected buffer between mother and son. Living alone in close quarters every day with a handsome, virile guy like Michael unexpectedly aroused her mating instinct. That was understandable, wasn't it? It didn't mean that anything would ever happen. He was her son. Who she'd never, ever touch. That would be dangerous. And wrong. Absolutely wrong.
Nothing wrong with a little fantasy, though, was there?
Becca's dildo had warmed to her touch. Opening her mouth wide, she pushed the intricately-sculpted head of the fake cock into the top of her throat, lubricating it with her saliva. Withdrawing it to inspect it brought a twinge of disappointment.
The bulge she'd seen in Michael's jeans out on the porch had been much larger.
She lay down on her back in the big carved walnut bed that held so many bittersweet memories and spread her legs. She couldn't even blame her longings on the wine. The adrenal rush of sexual arousal had burned through the mental fog brought on by drinking on an empty stomach. Sober as a judge, Becca closed her eyes and moved the slippery tip of the dildo up and down the length of her cunt lips. She closed her eyes, and, with guilty excitement, conjured up the image of her son poised between her open legs prepared to take her for the first time.
"Mmmmm," she purred, gently easing the warm rubbery knob into her slit. Her snatch was sopping, and the first few inches of the dildo entered easily. "Fill me up, baby. Give it to me. G-give it to me, M-M--"
She couldn't say the name, As powerful as the allure of giving voice to her darkest longings might be, she couldn't bring herself to say the name. Was it superstitious, to fear that speaking such things aloud might conjure the unpardonable acts themselves into reality?
At this point, she'd usually distract herself with her pictures of other women fucking their young studs. Or tell herself stories about other lonely, horny women and what they might do, given the opportunity. But she'd left her phone on the dresser, and the urgency of her craving pinned her on her back as helplessly as if Goliath himself were pounding away in her cunt.
Try as she might, Becca couldn't cum.
The toy had never failed her before. It had always provided enough temporary relief so that she could keep herself together through the lonely nights and days. But it wasn't working this afternoon. Licking the fingers of her free hand, she reached between her legs to massage her stiff clit while sliding the dildo further into her spasming sex channel. Heat suffused her belly and swelled her tits, but she couldn't reach climax.
She was desperate to get herself off, if only so that she could face her sons with a semblance of composure this evening. God, if she couldn't get hold of herself and control her desires for one afternoon, what was she going to do about living in the little cottage with both of them for weeks on end?
Taking hold of the dildo with both hands, she worked it into her pussy harder and faster. She pictured her son's handsome, brooding face, his teeth bared in passion, his lean muscles rippling as he moved atop her, his cock thrusting relentlessly inside her.
"Fuck me, M-Michael..." the horny mother moaned in a rasping whisper. Reason told her that no one could hear her through the timber walls and heavy wooden door. But in her heart, she was screaming her incestuous desires out loud, and her guilty conscience amplified every breath and whimper until they rang like bells in her ears. "Make me come, give me all of your cock..."
She was almost there...so close, right on the edge...
"That's it, that's it...fuck Mama, Michael. Fuck me, Paul...Michael...Paul! Paul..."
Dear God, she wanted both her sons! The shock of the realization tumbled her over the precipice into a bone-jarring orgasm.
†††
"I can't remember when I've had a tastier hamburger," Becca said, licking a stray dab of mayonnaise from her lip and reaching for another paper napkin. "You're such a surprise, Paul. I don't remember you ever even frying an egg when you lived at home."
Her sons watched her with keen interest, as if their mother eating a sandwich was the most intriguing thing on Earth. She sensed that something was pressing on their minds, but their behavior since she'd come back downstairs gave no clue as to what it might be.
"Had to make a living," Paul said. "You can always find someplace to camp out in the country, once you get the hang of avoiding attention. Cities, though...sleeping in shelters got old real quick. But it turns out that there's always a demand for cooks who'll show up for their shifts more than a week without goin' off on a drunk."
Becca flinched inwardly at the matter-of-act way Paul described his precarious existence on the road. Her fear for him had become a habit, born of his infrequent and sometimes troubled messages over the last few years. Yet since his unexpected return, she'd marveled at his newly-minted self-reliance. He carried himself with confidence and a maturity that belied that recklessness which by his own account dogged and sometimes got him into trouble. She tried to avoid too many questions, instead focusing on her gratitude for having him safe and sound with her again. She hoped that the lurking dangers of living by his wits were behind him.
Michael shook his head slowly. "Me, I couldn't do it." He sounded oddly envious. "I'd sink in a day. I've gotta have a plan for everything."
"But that's good. That's why you're gonna be a doctor." If there was a patronizing undertone to Paul's chipper reassurance, his brother didn't pick up on it. "I do okay, but no one should wanna change places with me." He lifted the wine bottle from the table and shook it. "You want me to open another, Mom?"
"Not on my account." Becca waved him away. "I have to ease up on that stuff. Any more and I won't be getting out of bed in the morning."
Her sons exchanged a cryptic look. "I, um, I brought some edibles," Michael said. That startled her. It was the sort of thing she'd expect from Paul but not his cautious older brother.
"Is that what you two are conspiring about?"
"Conspiring?" Paul blinked innocently. "Us?"
Becca laughed out loud. "What kind of mother would I be, getting stoned with you two? I really should express my consternation at the very suggestion. Shouldn't I?"
"Aw, loosen up a little. That's the whole point of being here, ain't it?"
"I don't...Oh, why the Hell not? Becca sighed and stood to clear the table. "I'm not exactly in the running for Mother of the Year anyway, am I?"
Paul walked up behind her, sliding his arms around her waist and leaning forward to kiss her cheek. "You're the best mom a guy could ask for, is all. The complete package."
"I'm not sure how to take that." His body was feverishly warm against her back.
Michael disappeared into the back bedroom and returned with a foil pouch. He emptied half a dozen red gummies onto a paper plate. They were red and shaped to resemble strawberries. Becca picked one up and turned it between her fingers.
"How do I light it?"
"You don't--Mom! " Michael sputtered.
"Had you going." She winked and popped the candy into her mouth
"Hold on, don't you want to know what you're taking?" Michael asked. "It's a strain of Sativa..."
"Yes, Mister Science." Paul grabbed two gummies for himself. Becca laid a hand on Michael's chest.
"Relax, hon. I trust you. There's no way one is too much. Let's go sit out on the porch."
They sat together on the wicker patio sofa with Becca in the middle. "I don't feel any different," she said a few minutes later.
"Give it time." Paul pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Mike says you're worried that Dad's gonna soak you in the divorce."
"He's being very antagonistic. I don't understand him." Becca kicked off her sandals and stretched her long legs out in the air, raising and lowering them slowly as if exercising. She'd changed into white shorts and a yellow halter after masturbating, and the setting sun gleamed golden on her smooth calves and freshly pedicured toes. "It's not like I'm being stingy with my settlement offer. I appreciate that I earn a lot more than he does."
"You're more successful because you're talented," Michael insisted.
"That's not the way it works," Becca argued. "He's an accountant. I'm a designer. Different career paths. And I've had my share of lucky breaks, too. But I want to be fair. Nobody's to blame, here. We just grew apart."
"Is that all it was?" Michael asked. "You sure Dad doesn't have, uh, something else going on?"
"That's a strange question to ask about--about your own father." Becca bit her lip. "I know you don't want to hear this from your mother, but I'm no saint, myself. "So if Cal strayed, once in a while..."
"Once in a while?" Paul was vehement. "Mom, you got no idea! Dad's a total scumbag."
"Don't say that," Becca pleaded. "Paul, you two have had a rough time with each other, but he's still your father."
"Damn right, we had a rough time. I split cause I couldn't stand to spend another goddamn day in the same house with him. I hate the sonuvabitch!" Paul sprang up from the sofa. "So should you." He turned and stalked away into the house.
"Paul!" Becca called after him. She stood up too quickly and felt light-headed. The dope was starting to hit. Michael caught her arm and helped her to sit back down. "What did I say wrong? Where is he going?" Her voice echoed in her ears as if from across a valley.
"There's something that he wants you to see," Michael replied. "This won't be easy, Mom. But Dad's playing you."
"Playing me?"
"Whatever it is that you feel so guilty about, he's using that guilt against you."
Paul returned with a laptop computer. Michael blocked his path. "Let's not do this," he objected. "It's just gonna hurt her."
"She's got a right to know!"
"What should I know?" No one answered. Frustrated, she demanded, "Let me see. Give it here. Now."
Michael walked to the far end of the porch and looked away toward the red wisps of cloud that wreathed the setting sun. He wanted no part of this. Paul sat down next to his mother, opened the computer, and set it on her lap.
He'd sorted countless documents into separate folders: Credit card receipts, hotel reservations, and long email exchanges, many of them too explicit to be called flirtatious. Most of the women were strangers to Becca, but there were a few she'd considered her friends.
"Where's the damn dope?" she snapped, clicking from item to item in deepening disgust. She'd have tipped the whole plate into her mouth if Paul had let her. Instead, he handed her a single gummy that she swallowed whole.
There was a directory of hundreds of images of young women, mostly candid phone snapshots. There were some screen captures from online chat rooms. Becca swiped through them rapidly, barely able to see through her tears. She paused at one taken from a low angle, an action shot looking up at a lithe young thing astride Cal. Half of his cock was embedded in her shaven cunt. She had big tits that seemed to defy gravity as they bounced upward; her red hair was a swirling cloud around her vacantly grinning face. There was something strangely familiar about it...
It took Becca a heartbeat to recognize the woman in the picture as herself.
Her throat tightened. Violently conflicting emotions warred in her--heartbreak and fury at her husband's betrayal on the one hand, but on the other, a strange tingle of lust. The sight of herself riding her young husband triggered a flood of memories of the days when they'd truly been lovers. The image captured her long-lost bliss at fucking him.
"You okay, Mom?" There was a strange eagerness in Paul's eyes.
"D-did you look at all of these?"
"All of them." She turned at the sound of Michael's voice. Towering over her, he put a hand on her shoulder. She blushed. She felt Paul's hot breath on the nape of her neck as he leaned in close behind her.
"Don't be embarrassed, Mom," Paul whispered. "It's okay."
"It's not okay!" she sputtered. Her head throbbed with the rush of her pulse, the sensation amplified by the booze and drugs. "It's humiliating to have my own sons--you shouldn't see me like that!"
"Like what?" Paul prompted. "Fucking? It's totally normal for you and Dad to fuck, isn't it? It oughta be." His face was a parody of naiveté as he looked at the screen. "You sure were enjoying yourself. I bet you guys fucked all the time back then, huh? Not that he was ever good enough for you."
"Stop. Stop talking. You're making it worse." She slammed the laptop shut, trembling uncontrollably. Paul took it from her and set it aside. He slipped an arm around her waist.
"Why is it bad? You're beautiful, Mom. Even more beautiful naked." Paul kissed her, trailing his lips across her cheek to flick his tongue lightly against her earlobe. Goosebumps rose on her bare arms.
"Oh..." she sighed as he plucked at the bow holding her halter closed, sliding the ribbon of fabric free until the back came undone. The garment floated loosely against her breasts. The cool evening breeze lifted the fabric, tickling her flesh and hardening her nipples. Michael sat down, put a hand on her knee, and kissed her full on the mouth.
God, what were they doing to her? Her mind was in a whirl. She ought to put a stop to this outrageous behavior...but it felt so good. Being high intensified every physical sensation, and her body vibrated at each touch of their hands and lips.
Her neglected pussy ran wet as a river when her sons lifted her to her feet. They surrounded her, Paul's hard, muscular body pressing up against her from behind and Michael in front. He slipped his tongue inside her mouth and ran his hand up her inner thigh. His fingers crept inside one leg of her shorts.
"Stop it," Becca forced herself to protest. But her instinctive need betrayed her. Without thinking, she opened her legs to Michael's explorations.
"Man, she's hot up there," he exclaimed as his fingertips brushed across her mound. "Her panties are soaked."
"Didn't I tell you? After all this time alone, she's gotta be ready to pop her cork." Paul unsnapped his mother's shorts, unzipping and rolling them down her hips. "Aren't you, Mom?
"I-I'm your mother!" Becca pushed feebly against Michael's chest. One of his legs was between hers, and her wriggling attempts to escape from between the two of them only caused her crotch to grind against his thigh. Just as when she'd unthinkingly humped his thigh on the porch earlier, sparks of excitement shot through her cunt.
"We're gonna take good care of you, Mom." Paul worked his mouth down the side of his mother's graceful neck. "We're gonna make you feel so good you won't believe it." He started to untie her halter's neck strap. Without it, the dangling scrap of yellow knit that barely shielded her oversized breasts from her sons' view would fall away.
"Please..." she sighed.
"Do you seriously not want to do this?" Michael's voice was earnest. "Say no and we'll stop."
Time slowed for Becca. She opened her mouth without any idea what she was going to say. Too many impressions overwhelmed her: the heat of her sons' hands and mouths, the distant shallow rasp of her breath, and even the soft rustle of the surf lapping at the sand in the distance formed a sensual symphony that swelled in her.
Everything she'd believed about her life was a lie. Had her husband ever been faithful? Her sons lusted for her. Beneath her turmoil, Becca knew the way that things were supposed to be. She knew what she ought to say and what she should do. She also knew what she wanted. And all of those things were in collision.
Two hours ago she'd lain on the sheets of her lonely bed, penetrating herself with her big dildo while pretending that Paul and Michael were with her. She'd yearned for this very thing. But that was make-believe, a fantasy that could never come true. This was reality, a waking...nightmare?
It didn't feel like a nightmare. It felt like the answer to her secret prayers.
Paul's cock rubbed against the small of her back. Michael's poked into her belly. Big cocks. She pictured them the size of telephone poles--no, tree trunks, towering redwoods of hard hot meat.
Shit, was she stoned.
"Stop!" she shouted. Breaking free from their embrace, she staggered away and spun around to face her sons. "You think I'm just a plaything for you to maul?"
"Mom," Michael objected, shamefaced, "We didn't mean to--"
"Shut up!" Becca took a deep breath. "I can undress myself." She untied her top in an instant and flung the flimsy cloth away. She peeled her shorts down past her knees, letting them fall in a damp heap around her ankles. Stepping out of them, she planted her bare feet wide apart on the painted planks of the porch deck.
"This what you want, guys?" She put her hands on her hips and thrust her pelvis forward. Paul and Michael stared dumbfounded at their suddenly naked mother.
There was a simmering anger in her, the urge to revenge herself on her greedy, lying husband. And she was high as a kite, all her inhibitions flown. But none of that explained her decision to brazenly expose herself to her own sons this way. She only knew that, for this one moment, she had a chance to do what she wanted. A free choice. She was in control.
The hell with it, I'll feel guilty tomorrow. Let's see how far they'll go.
"What, don't tell me you're disappointed?" She turned slowly on her tip-toes, displaying herself naked to Paul and Michael from every angle. "Come on, guys, get those cocks out. Show Mama what you got!" She meant to sound provocative but broke down in giggles before she was halfway done. She couldn't help herself; their frozen, stupefied faces were the funniest damn thing she'd ever seen. "Come on, you asked for this. Impress me."
"Y-yes, Ma'am!" Michael stammered. The brothers were on their feet in the blink of an eye, racing one another to undress. "How much did you give her?" he asked Paul under his breath.
"I didn't give her nothing," Paul snapped. "You saw, she only took a couple. On her own. Stop accusing me of stuff."
"Don't dawdle. I swear you two are hopeless." Becca dropped to her knees before Michael and yanked his underpants down, then did the same for Paul. Her breath caught in her throat. Michael's cock was thick, club-like, and nearly a foot long. And Paul!--her younger son's stiff prick was as long and big around as her forearm. Her cunt channel rippled at the sight of that monster.
"You, uh, stopped laughing, Mom," Paul snickered, reading her expression. "Something wrong?"
"Not a thing," Becca said huskily. Overcoming her last ounce of hesitation, she took a cock in each hand and squeezed them both affectionately. "Not one damn thing." She got to her feet and beckoned her sons to her with open arms. "Come give Mama a kiss, fellas."
Her mouth met theirs hungrily as they each kissed her in turn. Their hands roamed everywhere, fondling her tits and ass and thighs, fingers slipping up between her legs to touch her clit and pussy lips. She shivered and moaned and returned their caresses, her fingers exploring their taut, muscular young bodies and closing around the thick girth of their cocks again.
"Man, look at these babies!" Paul hefted and gently squeezed Becca's big tits in his hands before ducking his head to suck one of her large pink nipples into his mouth. "Didn't I say that Mom would have great tits?"
"I told you that, idiot." Michael's feather-light touches on her belly and hips stoked her inner fires higher "I see her naked all the time."
"You what?" Becca exclaimed.
"You're awful casual around the house, Mom." Michael grinned.
"You two talk about me? Sexually?" A light dawned on Becca. "You planned this together, didn't you?"
"For a long time." Paul silenced his mother with another long, deep kiss. His lips were as demanding as Michael's were gentle and tentative. As new as this all was, she was already finding that she tell the difference between her sons as lovers with her eyes closed. And those differences held thrilling and fearful possibilities.
Paul slid his arms under hers while Michael grabbed hold of her thighs. Together they lifted her until she was parallel to the deck, and Michael draped her legs over his broad shoulders. He brought his face close to her pussy and blew warm air across her wet slit. His tongue flicked out and dabbed at her clit.
"Aaaawwwh!" Becca shrieked.
"Keep it down, Mom. Lindsey's place is only a couple of miles down the coast," Paul joked. "She hears you she'll be up here to check on us in, oh, maybe a half hour." He kissed her forehead. "'Course by then it'll be way too late." Walking backward, he led the way through the front door into the cottage and up the staircase to the master bedroom.
Michael kept kissing and licking his mother's pussy even as they navigated the stairs. She hadn't gotten laid in months, but it had been years since a man had gone down on her. She fought not to squirm too much as her son's mouth worked her cunt over with surprising skill, afraid that one of the guys might lose his balance and they'd drop her. But they were both strong and she was small, and they handled her as easily as a sack of groceries.
Michael managed to crouch down to set her on the edge of the big old bed without letting go. His face was still between her legs, his tongue-tip running around the open inner rim of her pussy, teasing her drooling sex lips and licking at her clit. She couldn't help squealing and writhing, and when his whole tongue suddenly slithered way up into her pussy hole she screamed and climaxed so hard that the world went dark around her.
She must have passed out from the wicked pleasure of cumming while her son ate her pussy, because the next thing she knew she was curled up alone in the middle of the mattress. Her sons stood at the foot of the bed, arguing in hushed, urgent tones.
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Paul was saying. "We do this the way we agreed."
"You mean, the way you want to," Michael hissed. "I didn't agree to anything. She's all worked up and hot for it, right this minute. But she could change her mind when she calms down. Tomorrow could be too late."
"Hey, you're the one who says you always have to have a plan. I'm tellin' you, if we do things my way, we got it made from here on out."
"Sure, like you've got some great worldly knowledge of seduction."
"As a matter of fact--"
"Guys," Becca drawled, lifting her head to peer at them through half-closed eyes, "Whatever you have in mind, shouldn't your ol' Mom get a vote?"
Michael blinked at her, startled. Paul shot her a wolfish smile. "Not really," he said, then, to Michael, "Do it!"
They were on her before she could react, rolling her flat onto her back. Michael caught both of her small wrists in one huge hand and pinned both her arms to the mattress above her head. Paul crawled between her legs, pushing her knees apart and kissing her just below her navel.
"Don't worry about a thing," he said as he slid his hands under her ass cheeks, tilting her pelvis upward. "We're gonna make you feel better than you ever have in your life. For as long as we can." Becca quivered as he went after her clit, sucking the hard little bud between his lips and nipping at it with his teeth. The sensation was so sudden and intense that she winced--but instead of pain, indescribable pleasure flowed through her from head to toe. With only a few deft nibbles and thrusts of his tongue inside her, Paul pushed her over the brink into another orgasm. And then another, and another.
Michael kissed her face and mouth while she gasped and mewed in carnal bliss. He rolled her huge soft tits in one hand. When the tension went out of her arms he released her wrists and lowered his head to suck one of her turgid nipples deep into his hot mouth, whipping it with his tongue. Becca ran her fingers through his curls.
Paul drilled his stiffened tongue as far into Becca's cunt as he could reach, searching and finding her sensitive spots. She came yet again, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Oh, God...I can't take this," she choked. "How long are you going to...to keep doing that?"
"Long as we feel like it," Paul said, looking up from between her legs. "Long as it takes. You're up, bro."
Her sons changed places then. Michael ran his hands up and down her hips and thighs while his tongue darted in and out of her cunt, occasionally tickling her G-spot but always backing off as soon as he sensed that she was about to cum. Again and again, he brought her close to her peak--and stopped, waiting for her arousal to subside before beginning again. The game had changed, and she didn't know the rules.
Paul was as talented with tits as he was at eating pussy. Becca didn't know if she could cum from having her tits played with, but his massaging and licking at her sensitive nipples drove her crazy. She wished she could get off that way because her older son was in no hurry to grant her relief.
Michael's oral technique was completely unlike Paul's. Where Paul was quick, aggressive, and confident, Michael moved his tongue over and into his mother's sex with maddening patience. He knew exactly what he was doing, keeping her teetering on the verge of hysteria.
"Your jaw getting tired, yet?" Paul asked.
"Little bit," Michael admitted. "Switch?"
The brothers traded places once more. Becca moaned in relief as Paul lay down between her legs. She was sure that he'd drive her straight to another explosive orgasm, just as he had before. Instead, he explored her pussy with his fingertips, stroking her wet cunt lips and probing her open, wanting slit. He worked two fingers up along her pussy wall and gently rubbed her G-spot. She reflexively bucked her hips off the bed as a thunderbolt of pure joy ricocheted through her frame. She had no more control of her body than if she were a puppet.
But she didn't climax. Paul kept her suspended right on the edge. Unable to stand it any longer she reached between her legs, cupping her mound and rubbing desperately at her clit. Paul closed one big paw around her wrist like an iron clamp, pulling her hand away.
"Uh-uh. Not yet," he mocked her.
"P-Please, I need to-to cum," she pleaded. "Why won't you let me cum?"
"You gotta learn," Paul said.
"Learn what?"
His only response was to close his lips around her clit and start sucking again.
Becca had no idea how long the exquisite torture of denial continued. Minute by minute, she faded into a fog of total sexual craving. Constant arousal without relief was hypnotic. Her limbs grew heavy and her awareness narrowed to the fantastic sensations her sons stirred inside her with their knowing kisses and caresses. There was nothing in the world except their hands, their mouths, her tits, her pussy...
After a time she couldn't muster the will to lift her head from its pillow. She just stared blankly at the darkening ceiling, her mouth too dry even to moan as raw sexual need rampaged through her helpless form. Her sons changed places repeatedly, taking long leisurely turns at her tits and yearning cunt.
Michael was between his mother's thighs when Paul stopped kissing her passionately long enough to utter one word: "Now." From her nearly somnambulant state, Becca's senses flared to crystal clarity as Michael's tongue abruptly started whipping her swollen clit with the ferocious rapidity of a hummingbird's wings.
"AIIEEEEEEEEE!" she shrieked. Her back arched into the air as she convulsed in orgasm--a bone-rattling, toe-clenching climax like nothing she'd ever experienced. Her every nerve caught fire, her brain a cyclone of ecstasy. And just when she believed her pleasure had peaked it surged higher, faded a little, then soared once more. She came again and again.
Afterward, she lay limp on the sweat-soaked sheets with her sons at her sides, fondling her tits and discussing their next moves.
"Paul, I swear if I don't fuck her my nuts will fall off. I've had a goddamn boner since I saw her this morning with those shorts riding up her ass."
Both her sons' cocks were rock-hard and wet with what must have been continual drools of pre-cum. The clear, viscous fluid dangled in long strings from their cum-slits, seeping into the bed sheets. Her mouth, which had been like cotton seconds ago, filled with saliva at the sight.
"Let's not rush into this," Paul said. "I'm serious. You said it yourself, what if she changes her mind tomorrow?"
"To Hell with tomorrow! She wants it now! Right now! Look at her, man!" Michael snarled in frustration. He turned to Becca. "Mom? Mom, you wanna fuck?"
Incredible as her orgasm had been, exhausted as she was, Becca wanted more. She couldn't focus on anything but the length and girth of her sons' beautiful, cum-dripping cocks.
"F-fuck," she murmured, managing the weakest of nods. Incredibly, Paul shook his head.
"If we give her everything she wants tonight, I guarantee you tomorrow she's gonna be all filled with guilt and remorse and she'll go into a whole 'Oh, I was so stoned last night, it was so wrong' kinda thing. Is that what you want?"
"I...want...to...fuck...Mom!" Michael shouted.
"Once or twice? Or anytime you like? Like, from now on?"
Michael stopped shouting and stared at his brother. "Go on..."
"We're in no hurry. We've got this place to ourselves for weeks. So we take our time, have fun with her, and keep her on the boil for as long as we want. Before you know it, Mom'll be begging for dick day and night."
Becca couldn't believe what she was hearing. Paul and Michael talked as if she weren't right there on the bed beside them, Paul speaking as if she were a pet to be trained. As if whatever they decided was between the two of them and only between them.
She supposed it was true, what people said, that you never really knew your kids as well as you assumed, but this was like listening to two strangers. Two young, handsome, virile strangers determined to give her pleasure--but on their terms, when and how they chose.
And the worst of it was that hearing them talk this way turned her on. Despite herself, Becca trembled with delight at the possibilities their words conjured.
Her sons were not strangers, she reminded herself as forcefully as she could. Michael was absolutely devoted to her. So was Paul, in his brooding, difficult way. She was in no danger from either of them, and she was confident that she could put a stop to all this with a word. That was what she should do, of course. Right this minute, before things got entirely out of hand.
Okay, maybe not right this minute, she amended, hungrily eying her sons' heavy balls.
"Say we do it your way," Michael said, "What do I do in the meantime, jack off?"
"Why not?" Paul pointed with his chin toward Becca lying naked and exhausted. "Mom looks like she could use a shower."
The brothers climbed onto the bed and knelt over their mother, Paul on her right and Michael on her left. They started jerking on their cocks, their near-to-bursting ball sacks swinging above her face.
"Race you," Paul smirked.
"Don't be an asshole."
"Let me!" Becca begged, her voice so hoarse and thick with lust that she barely recognized it. "Let me, let me, let me!"
Paul and Michael propped her head and shoulders up on pillows, raising her to a more comfortable angle. She reached up and took a cock in each hand, eagerly closing her slender fingers around the long, throbbing columns of flesh. She could barely close her hand around Michael's shaft, and not at all around Paul's. Both their pricks were slippery with pre-cum. She hadn't jacked a man off in a long time, and she'd never tried to service two at the same time. She stroked them experimentally, sliding her fists from just behind their cock-knobs down to their balls and then up again, picking up speed with each repetition as she found her rhythm.
Her face was inches from their cocks, close enough to feel the heat of their pulsing blood on her cheeks as she pumped furiously back and forth. She felt empowered, jacking her sons off this way, in a sense taking back the control she'd surrendered in letting them use her as they pleased. Their grunts and groans were music to her ears as she squeezed their steely pricks, squirting out pre-cum to drip and splatter on her quivering flesh.
"FUUUCK!" Michael came first, ribbons of hot white semen rocketing from his cock in almost a steady stream across her tits and belly. Becca kept pumping.
"Give it to me, baby," she whispered. "Show Mama how much you love her. That's it, honey, keep it coming..." When she'd wrung the last drops from him, Michael flopped down on the mattress beside her, gasping for breath.
Paul straddled her waist, staring her down while she pulled on his cock with both hands. "Go on, work for it," he taunted. "I got great cock control, babe, and I ain't come for days. I'm gonna drown you."
His mockery only strengthened Becca's resolve. She'd show the brat a thing or two. She released his prick long enough to collect more of his pre-cum on her palms, even wiping Michael's jism from her stomach to lubricate her hands. She grabbed his cock again, stroking more and more vigorously, her fingers a blur along his wet. glistening shaft. She cupped his balls in her other hand. Her pussy spasmed with fresh arousal at the promise of those round, weighty orbs. She rolled and stirred them with her fingertips and then, without warning, lifted her face to kiss his ball sack.
Paul's head jerked up in surprise. His cock spasmed along its length. "God damn, I--oh fucking fuck!"
His cum-slit opened and thick ropes of cum rifled forth. Becca shut her eyes as hot jism sprayed into her hair. She pointed his prick downward to take the second blast on her face. Wads of cum pasted her eyelids and dripped from her lashes. Still more coated her cheeks and chin. She opened her mouth wide, but before she could taste her own son's semen Paul pulled away, aiming his volleys at her engorged pink nipples and into the valley between her huge tits.
Satisfied for the time being, the brothers surveyed the sticky mess they'd made of their mother's naked body.
"Not a bad start to the evening," Paul said.
Becca awoke with a start. She was lying on her side, completely nude, sandwiched between her sons. Michael's arm lay stretched across her waist, his sleeping face resting against her tits. Paul was snuggled up behind her with one leg nudged in between hers.
Outside the bedroom window, the sun was just above the horizon. This time of year, that meant it was well past seven. She'd fallen asleep for the last time somewhere after two o'clock. Stretches of the night were a blur, but some memories stood out as deliciously vivid. This morning her mind was clear. Not for a moment did she entertain the excuse that any of what they'd done together was a dream.
She'd told herself that she'd put off her doubts until tomorrow. "Tomorrow" was today.
Taking care not to wake the guys, she raised herself on one elbow. She was stuck to them in a dozen places by dried semen. The damn stuff was everywhere, plastered across her chest, arms, and face as well as some dribbles between her thighs.
She wasn't sure how many cum showers Paul and Michael had given her. After the first time they'd emptied their balls over her body she'd drifted off to sleep, dozing for less than an hour before Paul woke her by spreading her legs apart and planting his mouth against her cunt. Michael sat up beside her sporting a hard-on as big and stiff as the one he'd been so anxious to drain earlier. Once more, they took turns on her pussy and tits and all the most sensitive parts of her body, rousing her into a sexual frenzy that they relieved only when they saw that she'd reached the end of her tether.
She'd jacked them off again until they'd painted her in more jism from head to toe. Getting them off took longer the second time. Paul seemed especially determined to win some unspoken contest with his mother by holding out as long as humanly possible before unloading onto her back and ass.
The third round took longer still.
They finished off the edibles. Somewhere in the middle of it all, Becca became convinced that her sons were not human at all, that somehow she'd borne two heavy-hung mutants who needed no rest, equipped with cum tanks holding inexhaustible oceans of hot seed.
That had seemed entirely plausible, the fourth time they hosed her down with semen. But then, at last, they were done.
Done for the night, at least. What would they be like when they woke up?
Becca continued trying to extricate herself from the tangle of naked bodies without disturbing her sons. She couldn't move her legs without rubbing against Paul's cock, which stiffened automatically at the friction. Christ, for all of his boasting about control, his dick had a mind of its own. All it needed was a mother's touch to rise like a young tree. And when she put her hand on Michael's hip, hoping to roll him from his side onto his back so that she could get a leg over him and leverage herself onto the floor, the effect was the same--his cock stiffened and grew, poking up against her forearm.
She noticed that the backs of her hands were covered in a cloudy film of dried cum. Without a second thought, she lifted one to her mouth and licked the flaky residue from it. The all-but-forgotten flavor of jism made her insides flutter. If the remnants of Michael's ejaculation had such an effect on her, what would the taste of fresh, warm semen be like?
.Not gonna find out. Not today.
What the three of them had done last night was wrong, very wrong. But she told herself that it wasn't incest. They hadn't penetrated her, so no sex. Okay, that was bullshit, but if she put a stop to this now they could all agree later to blame it on booze and drugs. Whatever was in the bag had been too strong, or it was the wrong kind of whatever it was. Their total loss of inhibitions had been unforeseeable. No one's fault. Certainly not hers.
Such a flimsy rationalization might be a way to back off before they committed a truly unforgivable act. Becca could almost convince herself, but the thorny question remained: did Paul and Michael want to stop?
Did she?
Coffee. Shower first, then coffee.
The coiled muscles of Michael's arm tightened around his mother's waist. He pulled her snugly against his chest and his eyes flickered open.
"Morning, Mom." He smiled drowsily.
"Morning." Becca kissed him chastely on the nose. "You go on back to sleep, honey. I've got to go."
"Where?" The bass rumble of Paul's voice resonated through her rib cage as he pressed himself against her back. "Where you goin'?" His hard, huge cock grazed her pussy. To her alarm, her slit grew moist as the top of his shaft slid along it. He pulled his hips back a few inches, until his glans nestled between her cunt lips. He kissed the nape of her neck. "Lift your leg a little, awright?"
Becca sucked in her breath and held it. If she did as Paul asked, he'd slide his cock right in and start fucking her before she could object.
Panicking, she slapped him on the flank hard enough to hurt her hand.
"Ouch!" When Paul jerked away from her, Becca vaulted over Michael onto the floor.
"I'm gonna shower." She skipped into the bathroom as if nothing about the situation was odd in any way. "Then breakfast. Get cracking, guys."
Alone in the glass stall, she turned the shower up as far as it would go. The hot needles of water on her upturned helped to clear her mind but couldn't rinse away her emotional turmoil. She kept remembering holding her sons' rigid cocks in her hands for the first time. Kissing and being kissed by them...their mouths on her cunt and tits. The torment of being denied orgasm, and her grateful ecstasy when they'd finally relented and let her cum.
Her sons had enjoyed her in any way they'd pleased for hours, always gentle but always firmly leading her as if she had no will of her own.
The most appalling part was how much she'd loved every second of it. The very memory was making her horny again. She had to regret what she'd allowed them to do to her. And she feared what they all might do together if she didn't put a stop to it.
Even so, the sensual possibilities of just letting it all unfold held her spellbound.
No. The consequences of incest were terrible and certain. Becca was sure of it.
That was ages ago. Stay in the present.
She uncapped the body wash and inhaled its fragrance. The bathroom door's hinges squeaked as it opened behind her; the damn lock had needed repair for decades. Tall shadows moved beyond the steamy, reeded glass of the stall. The shower door slid open and her sons squeezed into the tiny space with her.
"Hey! Get out of here! What do you think you're doing?"
"Saving time." Michael took the bottle from his mother and squirted lotion into his hand before giving it to Paul. Rather than scrubbing himself, he smeared the cool, creamy lotion over Becca's shoulders and down her back, working it into a white lather. Paul did the same, except that he went straight for her tits. She clenched her jaw at how good his thick fingers felt, massaging her nipples.
"G-Guys, stop it this instant! Last night was--was a mistake. We're sober now. Nothing like that is ever going to happen again. Understand?"
"Whatever you say, Mom." Michael slid his arms under Becca's and cupped her tit-globes in his big hands while Paul soaped up her stomach. Reaching further down, he drew a slippery finger slowly up the furrow of her cunt until he touched the hooded pearl of her clit.
"Ahhh..." she gasped. Her knees were like water. She sagged back against Michael.
"Got her, bro?"
"Yep." Michael swiped his index fingers across his mother's nipples, which tightened into stiff little pebbles. The marble column of his cock pressed into her back. Paul wedged himself between her soap-slick thighs and wriggled his hips, causing his throbbing prick to glide against her pussy mound. She trembled at the contact of her most sensitive flesh and the hot, steel-in-velvet underside of his massive cock-stalk.
"Yeah, that feels just right," he muttered. "How about you, Mom? You like that?"
"Ungh...No..." she lied through gritted teeth, unthinkingly rocking her pelvis to hump against him. He bent his knees slightly, rolling his cock-knob across her clit. As he straightened up, the length of his cock rubbed over the pleasure-giving little bud until his balls bumped gently against her pussy lips. She whimpered helplessly.
"Think how much better it'll feel going up inside you." Paul kissed his mother on her mouth. "All of it."
"Never gonna..." Becca mumbled weakly. Tingles of arousal raced through her. Michael leaned into her from behind, trapping her against his brother to increase the friction of Paul's cock against her pussy.
"Will, too," Paul continued. "Me and Mike both. Pretty soon you'll be fucking both your sons. You'll--YEOW!"
She'd sunk her teeth into Paul's lower lip. She meant to give him a little nip, to startle him into backing off. But she tasted blood and saw flecks of bright red in his mouth.
"Why'd you do that?"
"Why'd I--why the fuck do you think?" She yanked the shower door open, grabbed her younger son by the arm, and shoved him out. Water puddled on the bathroom floor.
"You hurt me!"
"Good!" She didn't mean it. She felt awful about drawing blood, not that the kid didn't deserve it. "Go on, get out." She shoved Michael after his brother. "The two of you, vamoose."
Heads between their shoulders, Paul and Michael slunk away.
"Shut the bathroom door behind you," she called after them. "Towels are in the linen chest. And get to work on breakfast, I'm starving!"
She shut off the water and slumped against the cold tile wall, shaking uncontrollably at the knowledge that she'd been on the verge of inviting Paul to take her, right then and there.
How did he exert such astonishing power over her? It was true that he'd always possessed a real animal magnetism. All of his life she'd noticed how he attracted the attention of women, be they schoolmates, teachers, or even his doting aunts. She was embarrassed to admit that she'd experienced jealousy and feelings of competition with other women where Paul was concerned.
What about Michael? He was an aggressive young man, strongly motivated albeit cautious by nature. But even he seemed willing to follow Paul's lead in this attempted incestuous seduction. Paul was the instigator here, Becca did not doubt that.
She toweled off and walked back into the bedroom to find Paul lounging buck naked on the bed. He was paging nonchalantly through an old paperback from the bedside shelf, dripping wet, with no towel in sight.
"It's Mike's turn to cook," he said without looking up.
"Jesus Christ, these sheets are soaked through. What's wrong with you?" She sank onto the corner of the bed, staring at her disheveled son.
"Beats me. I blame my parents." He looked directly at her and smiled disarmingly. She couldn't help grinning in return. And there it was again, the stirring, tingling heat between her legs. Damn it.
"Whatever you're waiting for up here, you can forget it," she said, securing her oversized towel around her breasts. It barely reached the tops of her thighs.
"That so?" Paul sucked at his lips. "Still hurts."
"Let me see." Becca scooted up onto the bed, touching the puffy red swelling on his lower lip. Before she knew it, his arm was around her waist. He undid the knot in her towel and tugged it off, tossing it on the floor. His eyes roamed her naked body, his expression an odd mixture of awe and pride-- pride of possession, not so different than the way he'd looked at his first car.
Her son wanted to own her. The prospect was as exciting as it was frightening.
"Paul--"
"Shhh!" His fingers moved down her side and up between her damp legs. His immense, hard cock loomed larger in the light of morning than it had the previous evening. He closed his fist around the stalk and pulled at it. Glistening beads of pre-cum bubbled up from the tip and rolled lazily down the underside of the beefy column.
"You said you were hungry..."
"Uh-uh. You are a sick fuck," Becca pretended revulsion, but her mouth watered. Sucking cock had been a major part of her sexuality from the beginning, and she hadn't had one between her lips in years. Cal had become too alienated. She sucked on her dildo sometimes, trying to fulfill her desire to have something long and thick and hard filling her throat. That practice was less satisfying than a Coke Zero to a sugar junkie. Maybe about as fulfilling as she guessed near-beer would be for a problem drinker. Even a self-warming silicone dick didn't feel like a man's prick and it didn't taste like anything. She'd bought flavored lube for her toy, but a cock didn't taste like peaches or blueberries, and they didn't taste like a cock.
The real problem was that a sex toy couldn't respond to her. It couldn't want her. Paul wanted her to blow him as much as a young man could ever want anything in life.
"You know you want to do it," he said with absolute authority. He took her hand and guided it to his cock. She tenderly folded her slim fingers on it, marveling again at her inability to reach completely around it. A pulsing undulation ran along it, and more clear liquid spurted out as if it were a little fountain. That her merest touch so excited him made her heart swell. She was perspiring despite the cool morning breeze wafting in through the open window.
"I can't. This isn't right," she said as firmly as she could manage. Paul spread his corded thighs wider apart and put his hand on the back of her head, urging her downward. At the same time, he angled his hips up to bring the flared helmet of his prick to within inches of her mouth. Her nostrils filled with his masculine scent, the irresistible aroma of cock.
Paul's hand was heavy on her scalp, but he stopped pushing, sending the clear message that he wouldn't force this. It was her choice and hers alone.
Becca timidly extended her tongue, experimentally licking up a few drops of pre-cum. The shock of sense-memory hit her in her core, and suddenly Paul was not the only one squirting.
"Aww...oh, yeah," she sighed. The taste of her son was like a drug more powerful than anything she'd swallowed the previous night. She pursed her lips and sealed them around his cock-head, not taking the entire knob into her mouth yet, drawing every bit of fluid into her mouth. She rolled it around on her tongue, savoring it, rekindling her long-neglected appetite for jism, and swallowed it all in a small gulp. Then she gingerly licked him in the sensitive spot just beneath the underside of his glans, producing another spurt of nectar from his cum-hole.
"Oh, Mom..." Paul groaned. He balled the sodden bed sheets in his fists, the muscles of his legs coiled like steel springs. Teasing him for a while would be fun. Both of Becca's unruly sons deserved a taste of their own medicine. The very idea of them treating her like some fuck toy, playing with her body like a game console, and making her cum only when they wanted her to! Over and over. Hour after hour.
Well, she'd show them! She'd let Paul think that she was going to suck him until he came, and when she was good and ready she'd just jack him off onto her tits. She'd already done it last night, so she wouldn't be crossing any new lines. Yes, she'd show him who was in charge. Michael, too.
Still, she couldn't help but wonder--if her son's pre-cum was so good, how delicious would his semen be? It was only an idle musing since sucking Paul to completion was out of the question. But rolling his heavy balls in the palm of her hand while his cock stirred and throbbed against her lips, Becca's pussy grew wetter. She moved her other hand along his shaft, pleased by the way she could make it leap and dance. Tightening her fingers around the base gave her a reassuring sense of control. She slid her hand up to the top of his prick and bent it toward her lips again, slowly circling the rim of his glans with her tongue.
"Don't fucking tease me," Paul spat, twining his fingers through her damp red curls and trying to pull her mouth onto his cockhead. "Get on with it. Blow me!"
His frustration revealed the tiniest crack in the façade of his bravado. Becca grinned and stuck out her tongue at him. She bet that he was used to having girls closer to his age do as he demanded, but doubted that he'd been with a woman of her experience. With renewed confidence, she decided that it wouldn't hurt to suck on his cock-knob for a while. She'd show him just how overmatched he was by giving him exactly as much as she chose, which would be a lot less than he hoped.
Becca engulfed her son's prick-head in her mouth, closing her soft lips around the stalk just behind the engorged bulb. "Mmm..." she moaned. She'd gone too long without a living, throbbing cock in her mouth. Pure, animal need shook her--the urge to suck him until he came into her mouth was almost overwhelming. She'd resist that urge. She knew she could. She had to.
Oh, but Paul's cock tasted so good! Her mouth watered freely, saliva bathing his cock and seeping out past the corners of her lips. She rolled her tongue around his hot, spongy flesh, massaging his prick while more pre-cum drooled into the back of her mouth and rolled down her throat as if to prepare the way for a big hard column of cock.
"You're so good," Paul groaned. "Way better than Maggie."
Becca nearly choked. She pulled her mouth off his cock. "W-Who's Maggie?"
"Marguerite. My probation officer."
Her heart sank. "This is news. Probation for what?"
"Don't matter." Paul shrugged. "I'll tell you about it, later. Just you keep on sucking that dick."
Becca sat up, fists on her hips. "Don't take that tone with me, Paul. I've got a right to know what kind of trouble you're in. You may think you're a grown man, but I'm still your mother."
"Okay, okay--"
"And besides that, if you think I'm going to compete against some--some bureaucrat who's got you on a leash you can forget this whole damn thing!"
"I'm not on a leash!" Defiance flashed in Paul's eyes but quickly faded, replaced by an imploring look. "Ah, Mom. I didn't mean it like that at all. Nobody in the world can compete with you. I swear, I was just--look, it was a dumb thing to say and I'm sorry. Please don't stop."
Paul gave his mother the sad puppy look that always got to her. He was a keen manipulator, this one was. But it worked one more time, if only because she wanted his cock back in her mouth. She'd loved sucking Cal's prick, in the days when he'd been into it, and Paul's cock was very much like his father's only bigger. Much bigger. Longer, and thicker, the helmet so round and flared at its rim and the shaft more deeply veined than the dildo she'd considered so exaggerated when she'd used it the previous afternoon.
Just looking at her son's cock made her pussy run like a faucet.
Damning herself for a weakling, she leaned forward again as her lips parted of their own accord to mold themselves around his prick. She vowed that before she was done she'd make him forget even the name 'Marguerite.'"
"Oh, oh Mom, thank you!" Paul moaned in grateful tones, all the while inwardly congratulating himself. Everything was going just the way he'd planned and was proceeding more quickly than he'd dared hope. He'd learned years before how to soften his mother's anger and avoid her discipline. He was, he'd admit, just a little bit spoiled by her, and he was bright enough to know that it was because she'd sought to protect him from his father's eternal disapproval.
Now, though, there was an added dynamic: Mom wanted his cock. He didn't think she realized, yet, what a slut she was deep down inside. He would teach her.
He'd learned to read people real good, out on the road. Life was a hustle, a long con, and you used what you could find to get what you could get. Seeing the resistance in his mother's eyes, he'd deliberately dropped Maggie's name as a challenge to throw her off her balance. It had worked. Most things usually did work out for him.