The sight stopped me right in my tracks and I watched them, openmouthed. His voice was hoarse, excited, when he spoke. "Let me take off your bra, Barbara. Let me feel it."
"Dynamite," she said, her own voice hoarse with obvious excitement.
I watched, horrified, as the girl moved forward on the couch and my son lifted her sweater so he could undo her bra. That effected, he pulled the girl back on the seat and lifted her sweater right over her trim little breasts. His hand cupped the girl's right breast and he bent forward, tongue out of mouth, toward her hard little nipple. Barbara no longer looked like the sweet young thing she had implied she was when we first met two weeks prior.
Then, she had smiled sweetly and was more than polite. Now she looked like a veritable vixen as she leaned back to watch my young son go at her breasts with his tongue. Her lips spread into a disgusting sensual curl and she grasped my son's long hair with her fingers and pulled his head hard against her breast. Mark opened his mouth, taking nearly half the lovely orb into his teeth while his hand continued to knead the flesh surrounding it. Barbara was enjoying it immensely.
"Oh, baby, that feels so good, darling. Oh, your tongue is so warm and hot on my nipple. Oh, I love the way you rub your tongue across it. Oh, Mark."
Her words excited my son. He went at her more eagerly. His left hand slipped around her back, cupped her free breast while he continued to give tongue care to her nipple.
That was bad enough, but not quite as upsetting to watch as seeing my son's right hand slip between Barbara's spreading thighs. He rubbed his palm up and down the crotch of her panties. It was so wet, it slid easily across her crack. Still clutching his hair with her fingers, still forcing him to take even more of her breast in her mouth, still sporting a look of extreme sexuality, Barbara slid forward on the seat. Her short skirt rose nearly to her waist, her wide-spread legs stretching her wet panty crotch. Around the elastic band, there was evidence of her dark pubic hairs.
Mark's finger dug under the elastic, and probed the wet heat of her crack. For a moment, I thought he was going to get on top of her. His hand disappeared underneath the cloth of her crotch, lifting it with the back of his hand while his fingers gave pleasure to Barbara's slit.
"Oh, Mark, Mark, Mark," she squealed. "Oh, you darling! Oh, it feels so warm. Oh, it drives me wild. Oh, you are so good!"
I was just about to storm right into the room, to catch them in the middle of their act, but I could not make a move after seeing what Barbara did next. She placed her delicate hand right between the legs of my son. Her palm rubbed across his left thigh, finding his manhood. Her fingers dug into the material of his pants, clutching at the large protuberance that had become evident. She pumped the material, and I was certain she had her fingers clasped around my son's staff.
She released her grip and her tiny fingers rose up his abdomen, searching through his pants material, right underneath his belt. Finding the lever to his zipper, she pulled it down, and her hand disappeared into the opening. His pants material was forced upward by her frantically moving hand, and in a second, the treasure she had sought was out of his trousers.
I could not help staring when I saw his hard rod stick straight out from his middle. I had on occasion noticed, when he wore his tight levis, that the flesh at his crotch was large, and created a bulge that had caught my interest more than once. But I had had no idea the extent to which he had grown up. I had no inkling that my young son, who had asked me question after question about women and had queried me endlessly about what made females happy, was asking those questions with his own sexual pleasure in mind. I had only thought-they were normal wonderings of a teenager. When I had seen him display his athletic prowess on the football field during the high school games, I was aware of the flooding of admiration I felt when the ball he tossed so perfectly was caught by his team-mate and another touchdown lighted the scoreboard and the rooters' yells joined with the wild sounds of the band. But I had not been aware that he was interested in anything other than football. I thought football took care of all his needs. I had never once considered that somewhere along the line, he had grown into a man.
But watching the girl's hand unable to fully close around the staff of his cock made me realize he was no longer just a boy. Erect, his prick was larger than I could ever have imagined it to be. It jutted proudly upward a full ten inches. Its staff was large, and thick, enough to please any woman, even women whose vaginas had been stretched by childbirth. The mere circumference of it looked as great as an eight ounce glass. It would nicely split any woman he inserted it into, and I knew that it would provide a female, any female, with a grating joy of the utmost sort.
It was not the first time Barbara had seen it, that was apparent from the way she did not enthuse over its large size. Had they already had sexual intercourse somewhere along the line? Had my son been fucking her with his huge prick? Was he no longer the virgin I had expected him to be?
"It's so nice, baby," Barbara said, her voice guttural as she used both her hands to close over his staff and to pump it vigorously. The heat of her palms on his cock, the clutch of her hands as she rubbed his outer flesh against the hard, inside cylinder was making my young son as hot as any man could be. He ran his hand up her abdomen, gripped the elastic of her panties at the waist and yanked at them as if he did not even care if he ripped them if they would only come off immediately. Barbara helped. That bitch that I had thought was so nice put her weight on her feet and lifted her firm butt up from the seat so her panties would slide over her rump. Her flesh spread against the smooth fur of the couch while she extended her legs in the air so Mark could slip her panties off her feet. And not once had she broken the rhythm with which she was so energetically pumping his cock.
My eyes were rooted to the sight unfolding in front of me fully as much as my feet were rooted to the floor, just twenty feet away from them. I kept thinking they would observe my presence, as least sense I was there, but their interest was totally focused pn their own sexual pleasures. That, of course, was the predominant factor. Any additional explanation was the singular light on the table next to the couch which spread its circular beam of illumination to a radius of only some four feet. The light bathed only them, and a little bit of the floor surrounding the couch. I was standing in near-total darkness. It was lucky for me, and unlucky for them.
Mark's mouth left Barbara's breast covered with his saliva when he placed his lips on hers and I could tell, from her cheeks, which soon became sunken, that she had glombed onto his tongue with a similar intensity as her hands still clutched tightly around his cock, pumping it. My son's hand was back between her legs and she had spread them wide, her membranes glistening in the light.
There was something totally disgusting in the way she scooted her butt forward on the couch and spread her legs so wantonly for my son's hand. He rubbed it the full length and breath of her gaping cunt, and I shuddered when the heel of his palm provided her clit with pleasure and his middle finger began to probe through her glistening pink membranes for the entrance to her vagina.
The girl was incredibly excited, and the pumping she was giving his prick increased in speed while she was as eagerly kissing Mark as he was her.
Again I sensed the time was appropriate for me to speak, to stop what was going on once and for all, but the words, although already formulated in my mind, did not tumble forth as I had expected they would. Despite my disgust, despite my shock and horror, what I was seeing was filling my being with something akin to morbid fascination. It was not just the fact it was the first time I had seen my son's penis erect, nor the passionate depths he could be driven to. There was something else going on within me as well. Between my own legs, I was aware that I was beginning to ooze wetness and my own panties became damp as the throbs in my clit began to match those occurring in my vagina. It had been a full year since I had had sex myself. With the separation from my husband had come separation from sex. Sometimes I had thought I should just go out and pick up a man in a bar in order to stop the sexual desires that coursed through me with aching regularity, especially before my period, but I did not feel that was appropriate behavior for the mother of a twenty-year-old girl and a seventeen-year-old son. Yet my own son did not have a similar respect for me. He was not even considering me, so lost was he in his own sensual pleasure.
That rankled at me, added to the set of mixed emotions flooding through me. How could he select such a wanton girl? She was responding just like a whore. They had been only dating for three weeks, and already her legs were spread as if they were married. How could he be so forgetful that I was still in the house? Didn't he realize I never went to sleep until he was in his own bedroom? How dare he not be more discreet! How ugly that he not be more attentive to the loins that had spread to give him birth!
But his mother was the furthest thing from his mind, now, with his tongue sunk so deep into the mouth of the writhing girl who was pleasing his rod, with him returning sensual pleasure to her clit and cunt with fingers that were more deft than I would hope they would be.
His face was flushed nearly to a beet-red when he drew his mouth back from hers.
"You're driving me wild, Barbara. You're so wet, so warm, everywhere. Just a minute, baby. There's something I'd like to do that I've been thinking about ever since I met you!" Each word he uttered was tinged with lust, with excitement. And it was not my imagination that his entire body was shaking as he fell to the floor on his knees and scrambled between the girl's legs. He put his hands under her rump, lifting it ever so slightly as he feasted his eyes on the undulating membranes spreading for him. His tongue extending a short distance, he gingerly placed it onto the upper portion of her crack.
"Dynamite," Barbara moaned. "That's so nice and warm, your tongue feels so good there, Mark, so good, do it some more, baby. Put your entire mouth over it. Suck it."
My son followed her directives to the letter. Pulling her rear toward him while he opened his mouth and pushed it into her mound, he began to heatedly suck on her clit while the finger of his right hand pushed into her crack underneath his lips and disappeared. His cock was spread out in front of him, rubbing against the couch front as his tongue kept busy and his right hand kept plunging into her vagina. He was moving his arm so fast, it had become a mere blur in my eyes.
The girl maneuvered closer to Mark, her rear-end sliding off the edge of the couch as her thighs locked around the neck of my son. She forced his face to squash right against her widened cunt.
"Lick, Mark. Lick!" she beseeched, her voice becoming a whimper.
Mark responded immediately to her wail. He took his finger from her vagina so he could swipe at her crack. Starting right near her anus, he slipped his tongue into her butt cheeks, rolled it around until the girl's pupils disappeared under her eyelids. The feeling she was experiencing must have been too much for her. She released her legs from their ankle-lock and slid her thighs forward on Mark's strong shoulders. The movement forced her rear downward and her cunt grated against his face while it sunk deep into her slit. But Mark did not seem to mind that his face was nearly totally covered with her juices. Her excitement made it better for him and I was certain, from the position of his head and the energy with which he was eating her, that he had dug his tongue right into her vagina.
His was nose in the middle of her crack, his forehead rubbed against her clit. Then heatedly, as if he was covering her face with kisses, he ran nose and tongue all the way up her slit, pausing at her clitoris to rock his tongue from side to side against her mound.
"Oh, baby," she said, putting her hands to the top of his head and grasping long locks of hair in her clenched fists. "That's it, sweetie. That's the way to do it. That's the way to eat, baby. You're driving me wild, sweetie. Oh, that's fine, so good. Eat, eat, eat. Don't stop. Go, go, go!"
She tugged at his hair as if she was holding two reins which would direct my son's tongue, his mouth, to the area that would provide her with the greatest pleasure possible.
"You do me, baby, then I'll do you. Oh, it feels so nice. Oh, how good you eat. Oh, I can hardly wait till I can suck on you!" My son turned his face to the left and right, sinking it deeper into her crack as if he wanted to hear more of her words. Barbara gratified him immediately.
"Such a nice grind. Oh, baby, baby, baby. You can't imagine how good you make me feel. Oh, Mark, give me you to suck on. Let me take that beautiful cock in my mouth and suck, suck, suck. Then you can put it in me and we can fuck, fuck. fuck. Please."
With a final grind of his face and his hands still shaking, my son got to his feet and placed his knees between those of the girl, whose back rested on the seat with only her head butting against the rear of the couch.
It was with maximum horror that my eyes widened at the sight of my own sweet son's face taking on all the aspects of a satyr as he clutched his hand around the huge staff of his cock and slowly raised it, then lowered it, as he approached closer to the girl's mouth.
It was open, her tiny tongue outstretched and rolling from one side of her lips to the other as if she was showing my son what he would get when he positioned his huge cock against her mouth.
"You want this, Barbara? You want this in your mouth? You want to suck on this big hunk of meat? You're not afraid of it?"
I could not believe the tone in my son's voice. It was not the voice I had heard when he spoke to me all those many years. It was as sexual, as sensual, as guttural as that of a sex fiend. He did not even look like the son I knew. His face held the expression only of passion so great he could only think of sexual gratification.
"Yes, yes, yes, I want it, Mark. Let me suck on it!" The young girl sounded like his female counterpart, a woman driven only by her sexual urges.
Mark moved that large cock toward her until her darting tongue pressed right against the tip of his cock. She pushed her tongue against it as if by mere pressure, she could slip inside her glans opening. Then her mouth opened wider than I thought possible. My son's huge cock head edged between her teeth and she clamped her mouth down on it, covering his entire head. As soon as she had her firm grasp on it, Mark released his right hand from the staff and stretched his long arms outward, resting his hands on the back of the couch as his rod pressed into her mouth, as it rocked against the inside of her cheeks, pressing them outward.
So engrossed was I in what I was watching, I almost forgot I was Mark's mother, still in charge of his morals. The throbbing between my legs had increased when I saw his magnificent gourd narrow the distance between his tip and her mouth. And for some very odd, strange reason, I was licking my lips as my stare continued.
There was something about the way his cock was sliding further into the young girl's mouth that was causing a decided change in me. There was something about seeing that very large cock, larger than his father's by at least three inches, that filled me with similar admiration as I had experienced when I watched his prowess on the football field. I began to become embarrassed at my own fascination, but I still could do nothing other than continue watching as my son so easily slid his cock in and out of the dainty mouth spread for him.
She had done this before, probably to him. Hers was the touch of an expert as her hands again grasped the staff of his cock and began pumping the foreskin while her mouth and tongue were providing Mark with additional delights. And he went right with it, oh, yes he did. It was certainly not the first time he had fucked a girl's mouth. That was clearly evident from the look on his face as he so intently watched her pump his rod, as he gained so much obvious pleasure from watching his penis plunge into such an eagerly sucking orifice.
"That's even nicer than before, Barbara," he said, rotating his groin so his rod tip gained more enjoyment. "You do that better than any girl I've been with, Barbara. Oh, Barbara. I could explode right now, right inside your sweet little mouth. But I won't Barbara. Wait, Barbara. Stop. I'm too close. Just a minute."
He pulled his rod back from her mouth, letting it throb and dangle two inches away from her lips, while the grimace on his face indicated the difficulty he was having in controlling himself.
"Don't come, not yet, Mark. Hold it. We still haven't fucked yet."
"I know, baby. I know. Why do you think I told you to stop? Just another minute. Wait a second." He was concentrating intently, as if by doing so, he could control himself. The way his rod, slickened at the top where it had been embedded in her mouth, throbbed so vigorously, was lifting up in the air with regularity, I, too, wondered if I would soon see his white fluid spurt against the girl's nearby face, and my own breath was held with anticipation of what would happen next. A thousand thoughts fluttered through my mind in the few seconds, waiting. He had not only done it before with Barbara, he had done it before with other girls. Good God, what was I, born yesterday? Thinking my son was still a boy, still a virgin? At seventeen years old?
Mark finally let out his breath and I did too. He had won the battle with his passion. He had controlled himself.
"God. I thought you were going to shoot off, Mark, before we had our chance."
"So did I," he confessed. "But I won't take any chances now. I've been waiting all week long to fuck you!"
"Then do it, Mark! I'm burning up everywhere!"
He lowered himself between her legs, taking his cock between his two hands and positioning it right into her cunt. His finger slipped between her vulva lips and in a second, his cock tip was placed where his fingers had found her hole.
"That's it, Mark!" the girl exclaimed as he pressed his cock forward, beginning to edge the tip into her. "That feels good, Mark! Oh, Mark. Fuuuuck me!"
Hearing that tramp beg my son to have sexual intercourse with her brought me right back to reality. The feelings that had been ripping through me like pin balls, never finding a place to rest all found their slot simultaneously. No vixen was going to debase my son in such a depraved manner. I would have a talk with him, set him straight later. But I wanted everything stopped right now!
"Don't you children realize it's after midnight?" I asked, my voice enunciating the words crisply and clearly.
Both heads turned in my direction and I must confess the look of shock on their faces made me feel it was a just dessert to the ordeal they had both put me through.
"Mother!" Mark whispered, drawing back from the girl, and turning in my direction.
"Mrs. Dunlap!" the girl screamed, pulling her sweater down over her breasts and frantically searching the floor for her panties. She found them, and rapidly put them on.
"I didn't know you were there, Mother!" My son exclaimed, looking fearful and attempting to push his large rod into his trousers.
"Obviously," I said, most disdainfully.
"We were just..." the girl started to explain before I broke in on her sentence.
"You don't have to explain. I saw everything."
"Everything?" Mark asked, full of dismay, before he expressed shock. "Why didn't you knock?"
"Why didn't you make sure you ended your session before midnight? Our agreement was that Barbara could come over only until twelve."
"It was my fault," the girl offered. "Don't blame him."
"I blame both of you," I said, full of indignation, feeling stronger from the fear they expressed. "You get right out of here, Barbara, and I don't ever want to see you stepping across the doorway to this house again!"
"But Mother, she's my girl."
"Not anymore, she isn't. When I tell her parents what I saw going on in here tonight, they won't ever let her date again."
"Oh, please, Mrs. Dunlap, don't tell Mom and Dad. My father'd kill me if he knew."
"Then you better get your little rear out of here, Barbara, right now. I don't ever want you talking to my son again and I don't ever want you two getting together."
Barbara was most upset when she ran past me, out the door of the playroom and down the hallway to the front door. The door opened and slammed shut. My son was still in a state of shock.
"It's Friday, Mother. We should be able to stay up later than midnight!"
"You go up to bed right now, Mark. I want to talk to you the first thing in the morning."
"But Mother!" His handsome features were clouded with embarrassment.
"Now, Mark. We're going to have a long talk first thing tomorrow."
Quietly, I followed him out of the playroom and up the carpeted stairs. He was depressed, but not half as depressed as I was when I watched him go into his room and shut the door with more of a slam than was necessary.
CHAPTER TWO
Once the door was shut to my own bedroom, and I leaned against the wall for support, I could give in to the multitude of emotions flooding through me, upsetting and unnerving me. I was still having difficulty updating the impression I had of my own son. How could I have ever missed the fact that he had grown into a man somewhere along the way? How long had he been using his prick like a man used it?
I wondered what Justin would do when I told him about what I had seen, then wondered if I should tell him at all. He would probably blame me for what had happened in the playroom. That was his way. When he had caught me in bed with William, do you think he had any kind words for me? Do you think he would assume some of the blame for the fact I would spread my legs for his business associate? He had looked as if he could have killed the two of us. even though we were still connected, William's prick into my cunt. It had not been my intent for him to find us together. I thought he would still be in Tahoe screwing his latest mistress, the one with the youthful looks and the long blonde hair. How was I to know they would return from their trip early, because her insides were threatening to explode with a burst appendix? He had come right home after dropping her off at the hospital, slipping noiselessly inside the front door and tiptoeing up the stairs so he would not awaken me.
In a way, I identified with Mark's young girlfriend. They had both been so engrossed in what they were doing that their sense perceptions were not open to the receipt of any data other than what their sex organs were providing them. Just as they had not known someone else was in the room, neither had William and I, when my husband had returned, unannounced, so early in the morning to hear the sweet nothings the Vice President of his bank had whispered to me while he so delicately split my vagina with his penis, rocking and rolling it to our mutual pleasure.
The expletives my husband unleashed at the two of us that night were enough to wake up all the households on the street.
"But it just seems to me, Justin, that what's good for the goose is good for the gander," I had told him later after William left under threat of being shot if he didn't. Justin could not see the justice inherent in my statement. He left me that night, and filed for a divorce the next Monday. He fired his right-hand man, William, whom he had just appointed to a Vice Presidency the month before and who had been our guest for dinner for a number of Friday nights so he and Justin could discuss their plans for the expansion of the bank. Why he got so upset that William continued coming to dinner after he had left town with his sweet Miss was more than I could fathom. Why shouldn't his wife have some pleasure, too?
"Men are different," he had told me that night. "They have a right to whatever pleasures they can take because they're the ones who make the money. All you do is take care of the house and spend the money I give you."
It was the first time I realized how little my own husband had thought of me. To be able to say that after I had stuck with him, been true to him for over twenty years, even though I knew he was getting sexual pleasures elsewhere, was a definite insult.
In many ways, I blamed him for the lack of communication in the family. He was such a perfectionist, no one could do anything that would please him totally. If Mark got three touchdowns to his credit in one night, Justin wondered why he didn't get four? If Billie got one of her articles printed in the Herald Express, he wondered aloud why she couldn't get it in the Los Angeles Times. It was necessary for both children to get straight A's in school. Anything less he took as a personal affront.
And when it came to sex? I shuddered to recall him telling Mark he would kill him if he ever caught him in bed with a girl. That was
Mark's sex education. And the paranoia he had implanted into Billie about men every chance he got apparently took hold. In all the time Billie had gone to high school and the three years she had spent at U.C.L.A., she had never once brought her boyfriends to the house; only her girlfriends.
"What's the matter with her? Is she gay?" Justin had asked me one morning at breakfast. I had watched him for the longest time before I had answered, wondering how such a handsome man whose short-cropped gray hair made him look so distinguished, could be so cold and unfeeling.
"No," I answered after a long pause. "She just respects you and took what you told her to heart. She'll probably never want to marry any man."
After all those years of being with Justin, I had come to the conclusion that perhaps it would have been better if we hadn't gotten married. Rarely had he given me any attention or affection. In bed, he was on and off me in minutes, leaving his white load in me while he either turned over and went to sleep or got up immediately to watch television. For some reason, he could not stand to see his own wife enjoy sex. Was that also a pleasure reserved only for a man, in his eyes?
Nevertheless, he expected me to be perfect, too. I had to be the perfect wife, the perfect housewife, the perfect mother, the perfect socialite, a perfect conversationalist (not too much talk but not too little, either), the perfect everything. What had attracted him to me was my perfect looks and my perfect body. He liked my figure, my long, lean lines, the way I looked like a model no matter what clothes I wore. He liked the fact my hair always looked as if I had just gotten out of the beauty parlor, although I always did it myself, and he liked my perfect features. I was a cross between the Ail-American girl and a China doll. Without a tan my skin was milky-white, my large dark eyes effectively penetrating, my nose delicate enough to be feminine, but strong enough to be aristocratic. My cheekbones were high, and he had once called them majestic And both my mouth and chin were small and petite.
He had been so impressed with my appearance, he thought he had gotten a real buy when he married me. My wealthy ranch-owner parents had given him a dowry of twenty acres of prime Kentucky blue-grass land, along with three prize steers and twenty head of Kentucky walkers. Thus, he was totally adoring during the first years of our marriage. Then, I knew he had not strayed from me in any way.
But everything had changed when the children had reached their teens. Perhaps he began to compare my skin to Billie's. Perhaps the aging my body had undergone no longer made it perfect. He then sought other "perfect" specimens of womanhood and he found plenty of them willing to please him sexually and in every other way in exchange for the money he would give them.
Strangely, not much had changed since he had been taking mistresses. The only difference was, instead of going to business meetings, he would be meeting with call girls. At home, he was still a stiff, rigid, man, handsome as hell, but cold as a fish.
If Billie was a lesbian, I couldn't blame her.
I had really enjoyed being in the house without Justin's beady black eyes scanning each and every cranny for some evidence of a mistake I had made, tfhe only thing that made our separation unbearable was the total lack of company I had. The women in our social set who were still happily-married, did not want me around, at least when their husbands were there. And William?
He had acted like a boy caught with his finger in the jam when Justin had confronted him that night. Justin had tried to ruin him by making it impossible for William to find work elsewhere in the banking industry. It had become necessary for William to go to Alaska to restart his banking career. But at least, he could have called me to see how I was, or could have sent me a letter from time to time. Perhaps he was fearful that my husband's influence had spread to the 50th state, and he just didn't want Justin to know where he was until he was firmly established. As far as I knew, I was the only one who knew his whereabouts. But even if I went to Anchorage, it would take me some time to find out what bank he had finally landed a job with. The one bright light in the entire situation was the fact he had left his family behind. Perhaps one day, he would send for me.
But what would I do in-between? And what was I going to tomorrow morning, when I talked with Mark?
Thinking about Mark made me think about that young girl he had tried to screw and I could not remove from my mind the memory of the tight little muscles on her curvaceous body. I walked into the dressing room and began taking off my clothes. Each time I removed an item, I could not help but compare my body to hers through my mirror reflection.
I had had a busy life, even though it wasn't hard. Justin had always provided me with money. But the many years of tension and frustration showed. The many nights I lay in bed waiting for Justin to return, wringing my hands, had taken their toll. That, and the natural aging factor. I had to admit, I no longer looked fresh and young, but then, at age 45, who does? Nevertheless, the fact that my skin was no longer resilient disturbed me. The wrinkles about my eyes were heavy and the lines from my nose dipping down toward my lips made my nose look much longer. The skin on my cheeks had begun to shrivel slightly, but that was only apparent in the sunlight. In the soft lights of my home, no one could notice.
But there were evidences of flab. My breasts, once my proudest features, were no longer like two jutting twin mountain peaks. Yet, watching them, I never put myself down for that. They had been stretched out of shape by the pulls and tugs of my two children's tiny hands and mouth when I suckled them after they were born. Even my friends were shocked that I didn't put them on the bottle immediately. I did not dare tell them why. I did not dare confess to the great amount of sexual pleasure I had gained when their tiny bodies lay in the bed beside me and their tiny mouths sucked my nipples into a high erectile state. The feeling of the milk flowing through my nipples into their mouth had evoked in me a sexual feeling of greater magnitude than I had ever felt with Justin even fucking me. I recalled the many days and nights I had held my babies close to me and had given them my breast which they took so greedily in their desire for nourishment. Each suck they gave me made me feel sexual, desirous and wanting. Many times, as my milk flowed so sweetly into their mouths and they gulped it so readily, I had gotten sexually stimulated and the gentle touches to their tiny bodies were not just those of a loving mother, but of a woman about to experience orgasm, if only she were primed in that way.
With my daughter, I noticed it immediately and, of course never revealed any of my feelings to my husband, yet I think he somehow sensed, especially when I prolonged the time I breast fed her, that I was gaining sexual satisfaction during the process. Often, he was so irritated at the enthusiasm with which I bedded down with Billie, that he would snap at me, insist I start treating her like a young girl instead of a baby. He tried to bring pressure to bear in the company of our friends, who became shocked at hearing I was still nursing Billie after one year, then two years, then three years. Only when she went to nursery school did I stop.
But I never forgot the feeling of sexuality she had generated in me.
That's one reason why I was still upset with Justin. When he came home from the bank during the initial years of our marriage, after I had nursed Billie, I was in such a high state of incredible sexual tension that I wanted to have sex right before dinner. But Justin always insisted the home be run efficiently, like he ran the bank. Late at night, when he was finally ready, I wasn't. But even if I had been, I doubted if his fast-on, fast-come and fast-off technique would have satisfied the quiver in my vagina and cunt.
I was so happy my second child was a son. For some reason, having a male, however tiny, suckle my breasts made it seem all right that I was driven to such sexual heights. Many nights, while he went at my breast, I would touch his tiny prick with extreme pleasure, and wish it were large enough to take care of me. And I had loved to tantalize him, when he was older and could crawl on the bed toward me. I would take my breast out of my nightgown and show him what he would get when he got close to me. His scramble was a fast one and the pleasure of his warm mouth on my nipple occurred almost immediately.
Sometimes, when he sucked on me that way, he would get an erection in his tiny penis when I patted it ever so gently, and it was not just once that I wanted to put my mouth over it and to suck on him, too. Even more than Billie, I was upset when I had to stop breast feeding him. Even Justin was aware I was upset, and I think he somehow sensed that my own son had turned me on. It was during this time that my husband began to become more distant.
So even though my breasts were not what they could be, I never chastised myself for how they looked.
My hips were another matter. I had not really done much exercise, as Justin felt athletics were unfeminine. To please him, I tried to keep myself as soft possible. My many years of inactivity showed. The skin sagged and neither hips nor buttocks looked firm. Stretch marks still remained on my abdomen and the top of my thighs spread wide. Still, however, my legs were shapely, and if one did not look too closely, they might give the appearance they belonged to a woman in her twenties.
All in all, I was not so bad off. I still looked like a model and the trim sports outfits I wore made many men look at me twice, at least until they saw I was an older woman.
Once or twice, I had even caught Mark looking at me with more on his face than just casual interest of a son in a mother. Had he wondered what it would be like to screw his own mother? And did my great concern about him have anything to do with my own sexual feelings for my own son? Was that a part of the reason why I got so upset when I saw him with Barbara?
The thought sent a chill right up my spine and as if I was afraid to confront it head-on, I quickly took off the rest of my clothes and put on the nightgown. The resolute steps I took to my bed should have given me an inkling that there was more going on than would meet the surface. Perhaps my own feelings were significant in my decision not to call Barbara's parents. Perhaps I feared they would perceive there was more to my concern than that of a mother.
The smooth feel of the tan satin sheets of the king size bed that had not been warmed by anyone other than me for ten months was a welcome feeling. I noted from the digital clock on the bedside table that it was nearly two p.m.... Good god, had I been lost in my thoughts all that time?
I rolled over in bed, thinking I could fall into a restful slumber, but it was not possible. Still, the thoughts came fast and furiously. If I did have sexual feelings for my own son, would he sense this? What was I really going to say when we talked in the morning? Wasn't this really a job for a man? Shouldn't I call Justin?
I watched the clock flick over second after second until ten minutes had passed. After all, Mark was Justin's son, too. He could drop me like a hot potato, but he couldn't drop the responsibilities he had to his son. And even if I did wake him up, so what? Why should I be the only one being kept awake at night?
More than anything, that settled it, and I pulled the phone onto the bed and dialed Justin.
It rang ten times before I heard his sleepy voice.
"Yes?"
"Justin?"
"Yes."
"It's me. Jill."
"Oh," he said, disappointed. "Do you realize it's nearly two-thirty?"
"I had to call you, Justin. It's about Mark."
"Mark? What's the matter?"
"Just this." I paused, trying to organize my thoughts. "I caught him tonight, with a girl. He was all over her and she was all over him. They did everything, Justin, everything! He undid her bra and then sucked on her breasts, then he took off her panties and got between her legs, then she sucked his cock and then...."
"Where was this, Jill?" He sounded like he was wide-awake now.
"In the playroom."
"What did you do."
"I stopped it, of course, as soon as.. . . "
"Let me get this straight," he broke in. "You went into the playroom, right."
"Right."
"And where were they."
"On the couch."
"And they were doing what."
"He undid her bra and began sucking on her breasts. It was horrible, Justin."
"And then?"
"like I told you. He did that for a while and then he took off her panties and he went at her, right between the legs while she was urging him to do more, then he got to his feet, right between her legs.. . . No, she took his penis out first and pumped it, that was before he went down on her, then he just waved it right in front of her face like it was a piece of sausage, Justin, and she took it right in her mouth, sucking and pumping on it at the same time and the next thing I know, he's starting to put it in her vagina and...."
He sighed and spoke in a supercilious, disgusted manner.
"Did it ever occur to you to stop them when he was starting to undo her bra?"
There was a very long silence while I tried to think of an answer.
"Yes, but.. . . "
"Well, why didn't you?"
"Because, Justin, I just couldn't believe what was happening. Mark's only a boy, Justin, I never thought he'd do that. I was shocked, horrified, it was horrible--"
"You watched the whole thing didn't you, Jill. Didn't you wonder why you didn't stop them immediately?"
Justin, like he always did when he was so self-righteous, made me feel ashamed. My mind provided a number of possible explanations, but none of them seemed to be plausible. I also did not like being placed on the defensive.
"Look," I said, finally. "You left me ten months ago and I've had the full responsibility of the children and it's not easy, Justin, to do it all and...."
"Billie's not there, is she? She's still living at U.C.L.A."
"Yes, of course, but.. . . "
"Then what was the problem?"
I took a deep breath and let it out. "The problem, Justin, is that what I saw was so shocking, I just couldn't do anything at all."
"I think there's another explanation," he said, sure of himself. "I think you were fascinated and that's why you kept watching them. I think you were getting turned on by what you were seeing. I don't even think Mark would have done such a thing if you had been a better mother. What mother would have a man over to sleep in her own bedroom, and not expect the morals of her children to deteriorate?"
"Mark never knew about that, Justin," I said, feeling very shaky. "How do you know."
"I just know."
"So what do you want me to do about the mess you've created, at two-thirty in the morning?"
"I need your advice, Justin. This is a serious matter. I'm supposed to have a talk with him tomorrow morning, first thing. But I think you ought to have that talk with him instead."
"To let him know what a whore his mother is?"
"Justin, that's not right for you to say that."
"Then let me rephrase it, Jill. I'm talking to a woman, the mother of my son and daughter, who is immoral herself, and who really can't advise her son because she's lacking in integrity. She realizes, finally, that she needs some help because she knows her son will laugh right in her face if she tells him he did the wrong thing, so she calls the husband who left her when he caught her in bed with another man, expecting him to clean up the mess. It's out of my hands, Jill. Unless the courts give me the children, they're your responsibility to handle situations as they come up. Besides, I have an early golf game I can't cancel. So I'd say you're on your own."
"But what should I tell him, Justin? You could at least help me out there!"
"I'll tell you how I'm going to help you out and how I'm going to help out the children," he said, his voice level and threatening. "I'm going to ask for custody of them, so I can be in charge of their moral development. I'm going to tell the judge what you told me, at the settlement hearing, and I'm going to emphasize that you are a woman with no morals...."
"Justin!" I exclaimed, shocked. "You wouldn't!"
"I certainly would. Next time, think twice before waking me up in the middle of the night. And when you talk to Mark tomorrow, why don't you just thank him for satisfying your voyeuristic tendencies?"
"You are a real bastard, Justin. I didn't do anything you haven't done or wouldn't do."
"You seem to forget something, Jill. I would have stopped them immediately. Then hardly anything would have happened. You've got a problem that is of your own making. I suggest you remember that when you talk to Mark tomorrow. He can spot phony statements even before they're uttered. And now, if you don't mind, I'm going to hang up. I want to get some sleep."
I heard the click of the phone, then silence.
Upset as I was before, I now felt totally apart, as if someone had ripped my stomach right out of my belly. For a long time, I sat on the bed, rocking, as I clutched my arms around my knees for support. Along with all my other upsetting feelings, guilt had entered in. What Justin had said contained an element of truth.
His ugly words had done the trick. I felt unworthy and embarrassed. And I knew my meeting with Mark would not be easy for either of us....
CHAPTER THREE
It must have been five o'clock before I finally fell to sleep, so it was not surprising I was groggy when I awoke at nine, still apprehensive. I staggered into the bathroom, trying to make sense of everything while I used the toilet and brushed my teeth. The ever-revealing mirror over the sink was not kind. The morning light flooding into the bathroom from the skylight in the ceiling was harsh. My wrinkles seemed more pronounced and the circles under my eyes were dark, and deep, as if worry had been forever etched into my skin. My attempts to comb my hair into perfect shape were halfhearted, and I took dejected steps back to the bed and pulled the covers over my head as if this action would somehow, miraculously, remove me from all my problems.
The sleep that followed was more resting and I awoke with a start at ten, becoming angry that Mark had not followed my orders. No matter what the outcome of our meeting, it was one I could not let slip by.
"Mark?" I shouted, and hearing no immediate answer, became impatient. "Mark!"
"I'm not dressed yet, Mother," I heard him yell from his bedroom.
"I don't care, Mark. We have to talk now!! "
His answer was one of resignation. "All right. I'll come right in."
A moment later, the door swung open and he stood in the doorway, looking uncertain as to what to do next. He was wearing the blue silk pajamas I had gotten him for his birthday. He had not shaved and his long hair look disheveled as it fell across his large sideburns. Instead of the proud squaring of his shoulders, they were hunched over as if he was weighted down with worry and concern over what would happen. Although I depicted an expression of anger there, too, there was more shame than anything else, and my heart went out to him immediately.
After all, he was my son, no matter what he had done. And after all, I was not perfect myself. In a way, because of what happened with William and me, I felt, for the first time in many years, a definite feeling of kinship. When I finally did speak, it was not with anger, but with compassion.
"Mark, come over here," I said, patting the bed beside me. "I just want to talk with you."
Stubbornly, he did not make a move.
"Look, I'm sorry I embarrassed you with your girlfriend last night, but I was just too shocked to do anything else. I just hadn't realized how much you had grown up."
"Well, now you know."
"Yes. Come over here, Mark."
"Well, all right, but.. . . "
"Just come here, Mark."
He scuffed his feet across the carpet and sat down on the side of the bed as I had indicated he should. Instead of looking directly at me, he looked out the window to my left. I could almost feel the many mixed emotions surging through him and I no longer wanted to chastise him. I just wanted to put my arms around him, and comfort him as I had done so many times when he was equally upset.
"There are many things I could say, but I think I ought to start out with an apology. I really didn't handle last night as well as I could have."
"No, you didn't," he said, still staring out the window.
"Sometimes it's hard for parents to realize their children have grown up."
"Guess so," he said, shifting his body weight and still avoiding looking at me. I did not like seeing him so upset and I wanted, desperately, to give him back some of the strength I knew he had. I reached up to his chin, ran my fingers across the stubble of his beard which made his cheeks look so dark.
"You're usually so clean-shaven, I even forget you have to use a razor."
"Been using it for three years."
"I know, dear. I guess I'm just one of those mothers who keep remembering all the years they spent babying their young ones. Do you remember?"
"I'm trying to forget it, Mother. I'm trying to be a man, now."
"I know that now, Mark. But I want you to understand where I'm coming from, too. I know you've grown up, but I see you other ways. I still see the little boy, too, that still needs to be taken care of."
"Mom...." Mark started, upset.
"Understand that, dear. Let me hold you like I did when you were younger."
Mark shook his head, gritting his teeth.
"Please, dear." I moved toward him, putting loving hands on his stiff shoulders, and pulling him toward me. At first, he resisted, but the gentle tug of my hands broke through his defenses, and he bent across me, letting me hold him with all the warmth and care I could. "I know how fast you're growing into manhood, and that you'll be with women you become attracted to. I don't mind that, Mark, but it is important to me that you realize that the love and concern I feel for you will sometimes make me over-react But I don't mean to embarrass you."
He relaxed, letting his breath out, and permitting me to comfort him like I had done so many times in the past, when he had been a child. The warm feel of his body felt as good as it ever had, and I sensed, from his relaxation, that it would all be all right, now. He had forgiven me and his own fingers dug into my shoulders as he returned my embrace. He started crying, just a little, just enough to let me know he, too, was relieved. Feeling the strength of his strong chest and stomach muscles also made me aware of something else. His body was lithe, and young, and even while holding him in such a motherly manner, I began to also realize I was responding to his maleness, too. The awareness made me uneasy, but I rationalized that, too. Damn Justin for being such a prig, for calling me a whore. I would never be having these feelings if he didn't put the thought into my mind. I suddenly wanted my son lying on the bed next to me and although the realization was a shock, it was not possible to snuff it out, to forget about it.
"Mark, lie down beside me, right next to the covers, dear. Give me some comfort, too."
"Well, okay, Mom, I'll do that, but I don't know...."
"Do it, Mark."
He lifted up and stretched his body out on the bed, next to mine and let me cradle his head in my arms. I had not held him like this since he had been eight or nine, and it was a wonderful feeling for me to know I could still give such comfort to my son.
"Do you remember when you were a young boy, Mark? When you were little?"
"Don't remember much of anything, Mom. Guess I'm too busy trying to figure out what life is all about."
"You don't remember all those times I used to give you my breast?"
"Mom!" he laughed, shocked.
I smiled at him, again, but it was not the smile of a mother. If he didn't remember, I did. I remembered all the times he had been on my bed and had so eagerly watched and waited for me to show him the breast I had in wait for him. Why it was that I wanted him to do that again, to pretend he was my little boy, needing milk, could only be explained perhaps by Masters and Johnson. But the feelings then and the feelings now were similar. Perhaps I had gotten so used to the feelings, and liked them so much, that I had never forgotten them. It started with the awareness that I was becoming damp between my legs and that, in my clitoris, there was the beginnings of the first gentle twitching of sexual desire. The ten months I had spent without sex, plus the explosive charge to my own sexuality I had gotten the night before, watching my son make love with his girlfriend, were beginning to overtake me. Justin's treatment of me had been no help to enable me to ignore the strong, mixed feelings I had. It was only for a minute that I argued with myself, that I chastised myself for being human, in addition to being a mother. Then, as if I had a Jeckle and Hyde personality, Hyde left and Jeckle took over. What did it really matter? All I wanted him to do was to suck on it, a little bit, just like he used to. Then, soon, I would stop him. At least, he would know what I was referring to. It would make him understand me more. And it might help him in the process he was undergoing to become a man.
"Honey, I'm going to do something, to refresh your memory. If you've forgotten, maybe you're repressing it. That's not good."
"What're you going to do?" Mark asked.
"Just what I did when you were younger. See if you remember."
I pushed him up from my chest and moved the covers down to my waist. Mark lay to my right, his head propped on his hand, watching me intently, a look of confusion spread across his features. Between my legs, the throbbing, the twitching gained in magnitude, causing everything I saw to become blurred, even my son. It was as if I was transported through a time machine to a point in time 14 years earlier.
"Here, honey, want this?" I slipped my hand underneath the cloth covering my left breast and began to massage it, moving it so there was no question as to what I was referring to. The cloth separated easily, making my naked breast available to his view. He watched it, stared at it and I could feel his body tense.
"Mom!" he exclaimed. "What're you doing?"
"It's all right, honey. Don't worry. We've done this before, when you were little. I just want you to remember. I don't want you to cover up anything, don't want you to forget about it. It's important, dear. Look at it, honey. And remember. Remember how you used to put your mouth on it, dear, how you used to suck on it?"
"But Mom, that's when I was a little boy. Fm nearly eighteen, now."
"Doesn't matter, sweetie. Don't you want to put your mouth on it, now?" I took my breast right out of the material barely covering it. He had not seen it for years, and his eyes widened along with the quickening of his breathing as his mouth closed and he continued to stare. When he spoke, his voice was low, tense.
"You want me to put my mouth on it?"
"Put your mouth on it, sweetie. Make your mother happy."
"But, Mom r
"Do it, dear. Now."
I thought I could not stand the wait as he so slowly bent across me, took my breast in his hand, opened his mouth and took hold of my nipple. The warmth of his tongue, of his hot breath warmed my entire body. I was only going to let him do it a little bit, until he could remember, but once it was in his mouth, he went wild and his mouth, lips, tongue started sucking, sucking, sucking on it, making the nipple taut and tight with desire. I once again experienced that magnificent feeling deep in the center of the nipple he was sucking on. For the first time in so many years, I again felt that wonderful excitement of my own son sucking his nourishment from me.
It was just like it had been before, once he got used to the idea of it, once he got into the rhythm of it, once he forgot everything else that had happened.
He was going at my breast fully as much as he ever had gone at it. His left hand cupped my other breast as he leaned across my chest, clutching my right breast in his hand while he licked my nipple into greater hotness, as his strong teeth closed gently onto it, as his mouth widened so he could take more of it in, as he swiped his tongue not only around my nipple, but around as much of my breast as he could reach.
"Remember now?"
He nodded, and my breast moved with his head. He sucked on it with at least as much intensity as he ever had, even when I had made him wait so long between feedings so he would be more eager.
"That's it, baby. That's it, Mark. Oh, that does feel good, you always made it feel so good when you did that."
He took my right breast out of its cloth confines, gripped the flesh until my boob was pointing in his direction and he could see how long my nipple had become in anticipation of receiving the feeling of his warm mouth on it. Still holding my left breast, kneading it, he switched his mouth from my left nipple to my right. It definitely felt like he was sucking a substance out of my breast into his mouth. It felt exactly as if I had milk in my breast that was oozing through my nipple hole and was being sacked into his mouth and he was swallowing it.
I pushed against the covers across my stomach, trying to force them down so I could feel more of my son's body pressing against me. He rolled back so he wasn't pinning the covers to me and I soon had them down low enough that, by raising my leg, I could push the covers nearly down to the end of the bed.
It was much better that way. Now, while he sucked first the nipple of one breast and then switched to the nipple of the other, I could feel the heat of his body from my shoulder to my feet. Just like when he had been three years old and he let his body roll against mine, only this time, I did not just feel a tiny little penis pressing against me for warmth and excitement, I felt that long, hard cock that had so intrigued me the night before.
He was excited. I had known that from the way he had started to go at my breasts, but now I knew that from the hardness that was pressing right into my thigh.
"I just want you to know how good you made me feel when you were a baby doing this, Mark. And I know now how good it must have felt to you!"
In answer, he quickened the movement of his tongue across my nipple and pressed his penis harder against my thigh. I reached down with my right hand, just like I had done when he was a little boy, and began to rub against his penis. How good it felt now, with it so big and hard. How huge a stick he had now!
I undid the tie of his pajamas, separated the material, and now my fingers could feel the roughness of his pubic hairs as they slipped through his forest until they could directly touch the large base of his staff. I ran my hand up and down it, just like I had done when he was a little boy and he had spread his legs to make my access easier. With his big, jutting prick, it was not necessary for him to spread his legs. Even as I held it, patted it, it seemed to get larger and it suddenly became as much an obsession as it had ever been to have him go at my breasts.
Generating between my legs was a hotness that was enveloping me from head to toes. The feeling happening in my breasts where he was sucking with such intensity, was extreme, and wonderful, but nothing quite seemed to match the equally charged feeling in my cunt, where my clitoris was throbbing so wildly and my vagina was already contracting with strong movements that drew the outer rim inward.
I had forgotten I was going to let him experience the feeling of sucking my breasts for just a few minutes.
My eyes felt as if they were going to fall right out at any moment from the pleasure I was feeling. It was not possible for me to stop what we were doing anymore. He was going so eagerly at my breasts, would suck on one nipple for a little bit and then eagerly take the other nipple in his mouth that he triggered me into maximum excitement and total oblivion to all else in the world.
I put my hand to the back of his head and pulled him onto my breast with all my might. For a brief moment, I thought he would take the entire breast in his mouth, and I am certain he would have if there had been room. I turned my body, feeling the top of his prick press against my groin, rub the material of my nightie against my pubic hairs. When I turned more, and spread my legs, his cockhead jutted between my vulva, pressing the material right into my cunt. The material dampened immediately and I frantically gripped my fingernails into my nightgown, trying to lift it so there would be no barrier between myself and my son at all.
It seemed like an eternity before I had the material up to my waist and my cunt was free to touch him directly. He was now as excited as I was and the little jabs of his buttocks forced his cockhead against me, again spreading my vulva. My quim lips closed onto his staff. His jabbing movements grated the top of his staff across my cunt membranes, until my own wetness coated it, and made his slide so much easier.
What was happening was the obvious answer to my dreams, the dreams I had previously not allowed myself to remember. And perhaps what we were doing was also the answer to at least some of my son's dreams.
Because he was in no way being passive any more. Still holding my breasts in his hands, he drew his head back. His face was red with excitement, his dark eyes meeting mine with the look of a man, not a boy.
"You're driving me insane, Mother," he said, and his voice was low, level, controlled.
"It feels good to me, too, Mark."
"But you don't understand, Mom. See, I can't do this without wanting to do more. I want to get between your legs. I want to put my prick in you, Mom. I want to fuck you. I'm sorry, Mom. I just can't help it."
I pulled his head to me and kissed him on the lips, driving my tongue inside his teeth, and circling his tongue ,with mine until I drew it inside my mouth and sucked on it like I was going to swallow it whole. He pushed his tongue deep into my mouth as he could. I turned my head, presenting him with my ear. He took the hint and began sliding his tongue around my earlobe, then driving the tip of it as deep in as possible. That feeling was so warm, so exciting, it was incredible.
"I can't help what I'm doing, either, Mark," I said, finally. "Why don't you get between my legs."
After the permission I gave him, he moved fast, sliding his body over my thighs and letting his cock rest right next to my cunt. As soon as I felt that hotness spread through me, I arched upward, for more heat.
"Oh, that's it, my little one, my fine one. Oh, that feels good, Mark. Press the tip against me, honey. Find my hole, honey."
Lifting up on his left elbow, Mark's right hand slipped between his abdomen and mine and I kept my legs spread wide as I could while his hand found the staff of his cock and he began to slide his cockhead up and down my cunt. Oh, God, what a feeling it was to have that hot warmth pressing into me, between my legs, from where he sprang. Oh, Christ, could I stand it before his great hunk of meat was up me, inside me?
Mark's breaths were coming so hot and heavy while he ground his cock head against me, I wasn't certain he could wait until he got it inside me. But I wanted him to be there.
"Wait, Mark. Your blood runs hot. Take your time. Relax. Take it easy. That way, we'll both have pleasure, honey."
He leaned across me while he caught his breath and the cockhead still pressed into my cunt was throbbing with vitality and life. More than anything I would have liked him to push it right up me, so impatient I was for it, but I held back, too.
"Oh. god. Mom. this isn't right. T know it."
"No one will know but you and I. darling. It's all right. Just consider it an experience. Lotta boys want to. but not many of them can be with their mothers."
"Oh. Jesus, all right, but...."
"Just do it. Mark."
His breathing had subsided only a little bit, but his passion had remained at a zenith. So had mine. He found my hole and then began pressing his huge cockhead right into it. The membranes gave easily under the pressure, and he slowly oozed, slipped inside.
"That all right, Mom?" he asked, concern slicing through his passion.
"Wonderful darling," I answered. "Press onward and upward, dear. Fuck me, good, baby."
He liked me to use the word fuck. It seemed to tell him it was all right. He pushed in, very hard, and the sides of my vagina spread for my son's prick. He relaxed for a moment, looked me in the face again to make sure it was all right and my smile, the passionate look on my face must have been a sufficient go-ahead because he didn't check any more after that at all, he just kept grunting and groaning as he continued to press his cock into me. It was so nice and thick and large it felt like it was spreading me almost to the breaking point. So nice to have such a large cock in me. So nice to have his heat plunging into my own. So nice that the place no one had dared go for so long was being attended to.
The size of his cock spread the rest of my cunt apart and I could hardly wait until it was way up inside me, his glans pressing into my cervix opening and the base of that huge prick grinding right into my clitoris. It already felt like it was going to explode.
"More, honey, don't stop, baby," I begged, my own breathless quality apparent "It doesn't hurt you, Mom."
"No, Mark. It feels good, wonderful."
"Better than Dad?"
"Oh, you know it, honey. Listen to me. Nothing has ever felt as good as this."
"Okay, Mom, if you say so."
"I say so, honey. Just keep going up me. I can't stand the wait!"
He went wild after that, not again stopping. With hard, steady, rhythmic clams he drove it deep into me. Each inch he penetrated made me cry out, but now he was enjoying my cries. He put his hands on my shoulders, gripped them for leverage as his eyes closed tight, as he grimaced, as he forced his way up another five inches. When he reached the peak, when my entire vagina could feel his heavy throbs, when my very cervix began opening and closing as if it wanted him in my uterus, when his prick base so nicely grated against my slick clit, he relaxed, but only for a moment. Then he started again, this time fully fucking me. He would draw back, first an inch or so before he slammed into me again. Then he would draw back more inches and ram his cock back in. Each ram provided another grind to my clitoris. Each one made me feel I was going to be split right to the core. Each one filled me with warmth of such intensity, my entire vagina, my entire cunt, my entire clit felt like it was going to ignite and burn right up.
I would not have cared if that had happened. All I was interested in was having that fullness he had provided me with, find some release.
Mark was ramming me as if he had done this a million times before. No longer did he just draw back a few tentative inches. He would slowly move his rear back nearly a foot, until his 10-inch length nearly popped out from my vagina. He would pause, catch his breath for only a minute before his fast plunge jabbed his prick deep up me in one incredible fast movement, until his groin, his pubic bone, and his prick base would provide me with sexual pleasure further up.
His big prick made it impossible for me to do anything other than experience. Despite the fact the years of childbearing and intercourse had stretched my muscles in my vagina, his thickness and length filled me as much as an average-sized penis would fill a virgin.
He did it so well, it was not necessary either for me to clasp my legs around his back, around his butt I just lay there while my son fucked me so good, my legs spread to either side of us, my arched cunt enjoying the slam of his body as we met on his upward ram.
The rapidity of his slams made me realize he was very close to coming and the prospect of having his rich semen splash into my vagina was exciting me even more. I could hardly wait to hear his gasp and the look on his face as he ejaculated. It would not be much longer for him. It would not be much longer for me, either.
I arched my cunt, downward this time because that made the grind against my clitoris all the greater. Now when he had thrust up me all the way, he would take care in grinding his rod so not only my clit and my mound received attention, but my cunt lips were spread to give my entire cunt satisfaction.
Gripping the muscles of my vagina, I closed it onto his thick prick, causing him to shut his eyes again. The additional pressure made his own throbs in his penis more apparent to me, and I was certain only a few more strokes would be possible for him before he gave me himself like I had so many times given him milk.
In a very strange way, the clutching of my vaginal muscles was similar to a mouth sucking at a breast, and it was only appropriate that his juices should flow freely.
He moved back, shaking the dizziness out of his head and rammed into me, once, twice, three times while I arched upward, my head lifting my torso into the air and my cunt feeling even greater pressure and therefore pleasure.
More rams followed as he embedded his prick even deeper into me, splitting me apart even more. I felt as if I was about to lose consciousness from the sensuality that made me feel I was turning inside out. Mark was caught up fully as much as I. He looked like he was riding the wave of orgasm already, his eyes closed, his mouth open as if some weird wail would come forth at any moment but he looked like he was caught in time, in the moment, long with his unuttered cry.
"Oh, ggoooooooooooooooooood!"
He finally screamed and started creaming my insides with long, hot, heavy spurts that came rapidly at first, then, as my own orgasm happened, seemed to subside, as if they were giving me my turn.
"Ahhhhh. Ahhh. Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!" That was all I could utter as I felt like I was tossing and turning in weightless space, never to return to land. The orgasm went on so long all the blood seemed drained from my system, and all the way I fought myself from blacking out. I wanted to be fully aware of the entire experience.
Mark fell across the top of my body, his head resting near my ear and I heard his breathing subside along with his heartbeat. I kissed him, several times, while he pushed his rod into me, seeming to enjoy the easier slide, now that his own juices were added.
"You will make any woman most happy, Mark. And I don't just say that because I'm your mother."
"I hope so, but I feel sorta funny about what we did."
"We got lost in our passions, Mark, both of us. But there's no reason for us to feel badly about doing something so natural."
"Yeah, I know," he said, sighing, "But mother and son!"
"It's all right if only mother and son know about it. Didn't you enjoy it."
"You know I did."
"Well, then don't think about it anymore. Just remember how good it was."
"It was certainly that."
Very carefully, very gently, he pulled his rod out from my vagina. Limp now, and covered with my juices, as well as his, it still looked as large as many men when they were in a state of erection. Mark slid off the bed and stood while he tied his pajama bottoms.
"Anything else you wanted to talk about Mom? I mean, like about last night?"
"No, Mark. I just wanted to tell you I was sorry I got so upset."
"Then I can see Barbara again?"
"I'd rather you didn't. She is very young, Mark, and if her parents ever found out anything about what went on between you two, you could get into a lot of difficulty."
"I'm not eighteen, yet."
"I just think it would be better if you would find an older woman for a while, if you have to find anyone."
"You're older."
"I could take care of you until you're eighteen, Mark. That way, there'd be no problems."
He drew in his breath and let it out. He looked stronger now that he was so relaxed and more certain of himself.
"Well, I better go get dressed. Football practice is in twenty minutes."
"You'll probably have to hurry, or you'll be late."
"Right. See you at dinner."
"See you then, darling." And I watched him leave the room like a man.
CHAPTER FOUR
"Mark," I whispered, placing my hand on his muscular shoulder and rocking it. "Wake up, honey."
"Wha..." he started, rolling over on his back, then sitting up. "What's up, Mom?"
"Billie's coming home today, dear."
"Well, I know that. She always does on Christmas vacation."
"I know, dear. But it'll be the last time you and I can get together for a while. I just thought...."
Mark laughed and ran his fingers through his brown, tousled hair. He looked incredibly handsome, with a similar animal-like quality to his idol, Elvis Presley.
"You just thought we ought to do it one more time, for good measure, didn't you, Mom?"
"Good enough to last us a couple of weeks, dear."
He pushed the covers aside and slid off the other side of his bed. The muscles on his back rippled as he took long steps to his bathroom. Since we had started having regular sex, he no longer wore his pajama tops, only the bottoms.
His entire manner had also changed. He had become the man in the family, in more ways than one. No longer was he apprehensive or tentative with me. He had become assertive and powerful, and the way he treated me made me feel more like his woman than his mother.
"Lie down on my bed, Mom, and I'll take care of you as soon as I use the John and brush my teeth."
I got between the covers of his double bed, letting my nightgown hike up around my waist, and rubbing my breasts with my palms. I heard the toilet flush and the water run in the sink. I had thought a lot about being with my son a final time before Billie arrived. I had awakened, hot and bothered, only stopping to use the bathroom and to put on my makeup and brush my hair to make my face look softer. The short wait enhanced my excitement. My nipples already felt hot for his mouth, and my cunt became more juicy by the second. We had done it so many times, Mark and I, that neither of us were awkward any more. He had been totally attentive to my needs for an entire month. He had not dated and he had even seemed to be in conflict when he had to leave home to go to school or to football practice.
The door to his bathroom opened and Mark returned to his bedroom without his pajama bottoms. I guess he liked the excitement that showed in my face when I saw his slightly-erect rod that swayed slowly in front of him as he approached the bed. His strong, young body did turn me on. His flat stomach was nicely covered with hairs that grouped around his belly button, slanting upward to branch across his huge chest and leading the eye downward to the healthy thatch of a curly nest of hairs circling at the base of his very fine cock.
"Don't say anything, Mom," he said, jumping on the bed and rolling his body next to mine. "I know what turns you on."
He did. For the longest time, he did not make a move, merely stared at the breasts that showed clearly through the diaphanous material of the nightgown I was rubbing them with. Against my thigh, I could feel his rod hardening even more. Just thinking about how nice it had made me feel on so many occasions was enough to make me want everything to happen quickly. Yet I knew it had to happen a certain way, and so did he. He broke into a smile while he waited, watching me become more excited by the minute.
I caressed the underside of my breasts, sliding the silky material of my nightgown upward, as my thumb and fingers forced them into nice little cones.
"Take them out of the material, Mom," Mark said. "Let me have some of your milk."
It was the way we always started, Mark pretending he was again a little boy wanting nourishment and myself getting more and more excited with the awareness until I could stand it no more and ripped the material away, exposing my hard nipple to his view and enabling him to grasp it with his mouth.
"Here, honey. Put your mouth on my breast, like a good little boy. Suck on it, sweetie."
I slipped my hand underneath the material and slowly took it out for him. I watched, arching it upward toward him, my mouth remaining open while he bent forward to it, his breath felt first on my nipple, then his tongue, and finally his warm mouth opening to take the nipple inside his lips and teeth. I clutched at his full growth of hair, forced his face against my breast, and felt his wet warm mouth take more of it inside. The sucking he was giving that nipple, that breast was excruciating. He did it tenderly, yet greedily as he ever had. My legs spread involuntarily, urging him to give that hot portion between my legs attention. He complied, and I soon felt, not only the sensuality in my breast being attended to but the sexuality in the throbbing portion between my legs.
He ran his hand up and down my cunt, separated my pussy lips with his two fingers while a third slid into the wet membranes, tweaking across my clitoris and then digging through the membranes to my vagina. I spread my legs wider, as the gentle sucking and tugging to my nipple made me feel equally dizzy.
"Oh, you dear boy," I said, grinding his head harder into my breast. "Oh, that feels so good. Oh, it's so nice the way you touch my cunt, sweetie. Oh, you're such a good boy, a good son."
His mouth closed onto nearly half my breast while his tongue continued its warm slide across my erect nipple, circling my aureola. His right hand clutched the flesh of my breast, kneading it as if that would make the imagined milk flow more readily. Simultaneous with his kneading, he drew his mouth back until only the inside of his lips continued to suck on my nipple. The way he did this was like an expert, and every sensory cell in that organ was ignited with sensation, each cell seeming to have its own throb as he continued to suck so delicately that I again experienced the definite feeling that a substance was oozing through its hole and into his mouth. Along with this feeling came a dizziness that overtook my entire being. The way his fingers were so delicately playing onto the sensory nerve networks in my crack made everything all the more enjoyable.
How good it all felt! How wonderful to have a grown son take care of his mother with such expertise! And he was excited, too. The rod pressing into my thigh was damp at its hole, and I suddenly wanted it to press into my cunt, to begin to separate those lips with its large head, and to split my insides with its length and breath.
I turned my body and started to get on top of him. Not once did he break the rhythm with which he was sucking on my nipple. When I was on top of him, my one breast hanging down, clutched by the nipple with his mouth and the other also desirous of his ministrations, he moved his cock upward, across his abdomen where, by moving my body backward just a bit, I could feel his cockhead press against the wide-spread lips of my quim.
Somehow, it was better, my being on top of him, my clitoris squashed across his stomach where by grinding against him, getting him wet, the rub of my clit against his stomach hairs and skin created in my unparalleled passion.
I pushed my hands into the mattress and drew my breast away from his mouth. Still squirming my cunt against his stomach, letting it slide forward and backward, until it hit against his cockhead, we played our happy game. I rotated my shoulders until the nipple of my other breast was planted directly above his open mouth, and then lowered my body, my breast filling his mouth and he began another sucking series to the nipple.
By pushing my butt backward, I felt the tip of his rod separate my pussy lips, begin to edge into my crack. I lifted my abdomen, reached back until my fingers could grasp the staff of his cock, right underneath its mushroom-like tip. I held it tight as I slid back on his body and felt the throbbing of his head against the wide-spread hole of my vagina. Then I slipped my body backward, a little bit more, until the tip edged a short way into my vagina. As always, he gave my vagina great pleasure as his own little jabbings with his butt forced it into me. His jabs, plus my moving backward on his stomach, spread my vaginal walls as his prick-head edged further up me. Once it was lodged firmly enough that I knew it would not slip out, I released my hand and our breast game continued.
Each time I took one breast from him and teased him with the other, he eagerly, sought it, tonguing the nipple first and then grasping it with his lips when I lowered the breast into his mouth. All the while, I kept slowly moving back, feeling his huge cock ooze deeper into my vagina. I slid my legs backward, clutching my thighs together when he had slipped his rod into me several inches. That was much better. I had to pause while my fast-beating heart and my rapidly-heaving lungs slowed. Otherwise, I might have come. I did not want to have everything over with too soon. I wanted to make sure our sex lasted as long as possible.
I waited, still enjoying his suck to my nipple, while my breathing calmed and I could start to move backward so his rod filled my vagina more without being in danger of ripping right into an orgasm. The more I moved backward, the more he filled me, and "he soon had his own rhythm going with his cock. I could feel the strong muscles of his stomach tense as he jabbed upward with his butt, and his cock slid deeper into me. The wetness I was exuding in my crack, in my vagina made his slide into me easier. I felt him in me by five inches, then six. I pushed my rear back, felt my clit wet more of his abdomen as the inside of my vagina separated further up. He had dug into me another inch, and his constant upward movement made him slide into me deeper, inch by inch, until his full hot thickness filled me to the very hilt
I rocked my body on his, loving the feeling of his cock pressing against the insides of my vagina, loving the warm, gentle suck to my nipple that he was giving me, wanting to rock on him until I was lulled right into orgasm, but another desire overtook me. Much as that nice hard cock felt so good, the picture of his mouth, of his lips, of his tongue nibbling at my clit created even more promise of pleasure. Although I had sucked him off once, most of our sex involved him fucking me, after he had titillated my nipples so. He had not thought to go down on me yet, probably was waiting for me to indicate it would be all right. But I wanted that feeling, I wanted that experience, and I thought if he would just suck on it a little bit, then I could roll over onto my back and he could do with my body what he wished.
Straightening my back to a point where my body was perpendicular to his, watching his eyes go from one breast to the other and seeing him lick his lips with anticipation of another suck, made me want to do it more. Sitting straight up on my son, feeling his rod sink into my insides nearly to my stomach, made it difficult for me to hold to my fantasy, to keep it in mind with him so nicely splitting me. But I had imagined him eating me many times and wanted him to do that.
"Don't you like what I'm doing, Mother? Isn't it all right? Is there something wrong?" It was a rhetorical question. He knew very well how much he was pleasing me, even as he watched the slit of my crack near my clit while I continued rocking on his middle, each rock making me feel his cock deeper in me.
"You're doing it fine, like you always do, Mark. There's just something else I've thought of, that I'd like you to do."
"What is that, Mom?" he asked, jabbing at me again with his cock.
"How would you like your lips on my cunt, Mark? How would you like to suck on my clit?"
"I've wanted to do that for a long time, Mom. Even before we got together."
"Then why didn't you?"
"I didn't want to shock you, Mom. I figured when you were ready to do that, you would let me know."
"I'm letting you know right now. I'd like you to do that."
"Then come up here, Mom. Hard for me to do that when you're planted right smack on my cock."
I lifted up on my knees, enjoying the fact he was intently watching my cunt leave his prick. I scooted up his stomach, letting my pussy juices make contact with his skin all the way up. I lifted my legs over his shoulders and dug my knees into either side of the mattress, next to his head. I held my nightgown up with my hands so I could see that I lowered my cunt at the precise, right place.
His tongue reaching into the center of my crack was the first thing I felt and I shut my eyes tight at I rotated my rear, feeling his tongue slide up and down my widened quim. It felt good to scrunch my cunt hard against his face, feeling his forehead and nose sink into my spread pussy and enjoying the way he turned his face to right and left, the way he ground it into me. But nothing felt quite as good as when I lifted up slightly and felt his tongue squashing against my clitorial mound.
He opened his mouth wide enough to take the entire mound between his lips and if the feeling in my nipple and deep in my vagina had been wild and exciting, it was nothing like having his nice clean tongue slide across that hot little nub that was threatening to explode at any moment. He dug his tongue into each and every fold of membrane in my mound, soon sucked that wonderful clit into his lips and the gentle scrape of his teeth across it, nibbling at it, nuzzling it into greater ecstasy was almost more than I could take. How many times he had done this to women, I did not know. But I was certain none of them had been taken to such heights of feeling as I now was being taken.
The delicacy with which he slid his tongue across it was so titillating it was hard for me to remain aware of what was happening. Yet it bothered me that his own hand was pumping his rod and I felt that the least I could do, was to take care of his needs while he was so attentive in taking care of my own. Call it mother love, or whatever, I felt it was the least I could do for my son.
"Just a minute, honey. I want to take care of you, too," I said, maneuvering my legs so they straddled his head, but so I was also able to take care of his prick. I grasped the staff of his cock, pulling it toward me so I could slip my tongue across its head, tonguing his glans opening that was oozing with semen. Lowering my cunt to his face again, I lapped the semen into my mouth, before sliding my lips over his cockhead.
His lips glommed onto my clit again and he sucked, pulled and tugged against it until I could do nothing else but rest my body weight on his head. He seemed to enjoy that, fully as much as the gentle return of sensuality I was giving to his prick. The more he sucked on my clit, the more I sucked on his cock. The more we both sucked, the more excited we got. Feeling his head squash into my cunt crack, yet still so delicately attend to my clit was driving me into sensual depths I had not yet been.
How could such an inexperienced youth do me better than any other man had yet done me? Or was their something else going on, the fact that I was having sex with my own son that added the extra sexual elixir that was making it all so wild and wonderful? Whichever, it did not matter now, not the way we were both responding and feeling. The enthusiasm with which he was sucking on my clit was only matched by the equal intensity with which I was sucking on his cock. And just as I would regularly grind my rear so he could take care of more of my cunt, so would he insure his own pleasure, by quickly rocking his rear up into the air so his cockhead would slide deeper into my mouth.
It became very important to me that we both have our orgasms at the same time. That would cement our relationship. It would make him feel he was more of a man and it would make him remember his mother forever, even if he finally fell in love with another woman.
I clasped his nice, tight balls in my hand and rolled them between my fingers while I gripped his staff with the other hand and began to pump it as furiously as possible. My tight-clutched fist could feel the heavy thumping of the vein which would soon release his semen into my mouth where I could ingest it and suck on the tip until there was no more fluid to be had. The pumping had the desired effect. He was soon jutting his cock upward with strong, steady thrusts while he continued to suck at my clit until I spread my legs as wide as they could go. The added pressure of my body weight made the sucking he was giving me better and it soon felt like I was floating through space, in a state of maximum excitation, which, I knew was a match for him.
The spurts of semen striking my mouth came easily and steadily, and the warmth of them, the taste of them triggered my excitement even more. I could feel the overwhelming waves of orgasm begin to spread through me, starting at the clit he was still sucking on. For a moment, the two of us stopped, as we both experienced the peak of our orgasm. Yet after that brief pause, we both continued to give one another pleasure. The greatest pleasure I experienced was the swallowing of his semen, after the wonderful throbbing in my clit subsided.
He continued to lick me even while I rolled over on the bed, still holding his cock in my mouth. He sat up and smiled, my juices spread across his face from cheek to cheek and from forehead to chin.
"That's okay, Mom," Mark grinned. "Ain't much more stuff in me that's left."
I still hated to draw my mouth back from his cock, but I finally released it, marveling so at the feeling I had, that I was glowing from head to foot.
Along with the return of my energy came my return to reality. It was nearly noon, I surmised, from the way the sun illuminated the room so brightly. Billie would be arriving home in the afternoon, if what she had told me the night before was correct. There was much to be done.
"That was wonderful, Mark," I said, sitting up on the side of the bed and getting to my feet.
"You're telling me?" he said. "Maybe when Billie comes home you and I can still sneak away for an evening. We could go to a drive-in. Maybe I could borrow Bob's van."
"We'll see, Mark. But now I have to get things ready for Billie."
"Okay, Mom. I'll wash your car so Billie won't think anything's different when she arrives."
"That'll be nice, dear," Still heady and dizzy I went to my room to shower.
Perhaps it was just my imagination, but when Billie arrived, upset and angry, her long, black hair disheveled from the trip she had made from college in the Triumph Justin had bought her as a high-school graduation present, I somehow perceived that she had an inkling as to what had happened between Mark and myself. While fixing dinner, my own guilt played havoc with me. There would be no possible way she could know, yet I still perceived that somehow she had sensed something different, had perhaps picked up on my own thoughts. Often I had felt this way about Billie, that she could read my mind. That was one reason why I had had so much difficulty talking with her during the years she was growing up. Yet I knew it simply was not possible. She had her own life now. Perhaps something at school had happened which disturbed her. That, or some event that had occurred during her extra-curricular activities.
Nevertheless, I was uneasy all through dinner, aware of the tension which held her body muscles so rigid. She was an attractive young woman, but the strong set of her jaw and the way her teeth ground with her every bite made it apparent something was wrong. Mark, sitting across from her, studied her with furrowed brows.
"What's the matter, Billie?" he finally asked.
"I'll tell you later, maybe," she said, spearing another string bean with her fork, striking it against the plate so hard I was afraid it would break.
"You don't want to mention it now?" I asked, watching her shake her head while she stared at her plate. As always, I was surprised her tiny body could emanate such strong feelings of hostility. That was one of the things I could not understand about my own daughter, that, and her small size. She was very delicate, just barely five feet tall, and although her body had perfect, appropriate curves and breasts that would make many women envious, it was like she was a miniature form of the Dunlap line. For this reason, I always expected her to arrive home bringing a boyfriend who would be intrigued with the prospect of protecting her. But despite her small size, Billie was an independent young woman, insisting on doing everything herself, even down to fixing her own car. Her journalistic course she was taking at UCLA was a difficult one for a woman. No doubt, her determination, energy and drive kept the men away from her. That, and her potential for anger, which seemed ever-ready to erupt.
Why I surmised it would erupt in my direction, I couldn't quite fathom, but she was creating tension and anxiety in me, and I wanted to leave. Gathering the dishes in front of me, I got to my feet and started toward the kitchen.
"You two haven't seen one another for a while," I explained. "I'll let you talk and get caught up on what has been happening."
They stayed at the dinner table while I cleared it and began cleaning up the kitchen after I shut the door to the dining room. They were still talking by the time all the dishes were in the dishwasher, and I began washing the pans. I dried them, put them away and started back into the dining room to ask them if they wanted some ice cream. But overhearing their conversation stopped me from opening the door all the way.
"Well, if you like gals instead of guys, I guess you just like them better," Mark was saying.
"It's not gals I like, Mark, it's Betty that I like, don't you understand?"
"Yeah, I heard you, but it doesn't sound like she-likes you?"
"That's why I'm telling you this, Mark. I'm trying to figure out what happened, and I thought you could set me straight."
"Run it through again, Billie."
As I leaned against the door jamb, the door open barely a crack, my fears about Billie were confirmed. She was interested in women, not men. She had had several affairs with women, she told Mark, but not until she had met Betty had she realized what love really was. She went into graphic detail, describing the relationship from the first meeting with Betty in her creative writing course and how they became inseparable, Billie finally spending most her time in Betty's apartment. She told how close they had become and about the many nights they had spent in the same bed, making love with one another. She mentioned how they had both pledged themselves to each other, had declared their undying love, and had agreed they would live together the rest of their lives as lesbians.
"Why did ya do with one another, when you were in bed?" Mark asked, full of interest.
Billie impatiently answered him. "You know, we'd kiss, and then we'd push up against one another, you know, with our cunts, and then she'd go down on me or I'd go down on her...."
"Did ya like that?"
"Well, sure I did, so did she. Sometimes we'd 69 and other times I'd just take care of her or she'd take care of me. Then, finally, cause she wanted it, I went down to an adult book store and I bought a dildo and started using that on her."
"Was that better?"
"It was all good, Mark. Jesus, I'm trying to get some help from you about how to get her back and all you're interested in is what we did in bed. Do I have to go talk to another girl or will you help me out?"
Mark scraped the legs of his chair across the Italian tile as he moved closer to the table. "Okay, look," he said. "You went with this broad for eight months, right? You had great sex, incredible stuff from what you describe. You two became inseparable, right? Then suddenly, she doesn't want to see you anymore. You keep going by her place and see another broad that's visiting her. Next thing you know, she's spending all her time with the other gal. And you don't think they're having sex with one another? Sounds like you got aced out, Sis."
"But we were pledged to one another, Mark. She had no right...."
"You must not be telling me everything, Billie. Must have been something that happened that turned her off you. Either that, or the other gal gave her more."
"That's what I've been afraid of. I'm afraid we'll never get back. God, Mark, is that all you can do, just sit there shrugging your shoulders?"
"It's your scene, not mine, Sis. If I could help you out, I would, but the gay life is something I don't know anything about and I don't ever intend to find out about it."
"That's just great. I'm talking to my bro, trying to get your understanding and all you do is judge me."
"No way am I judging you, Billie. I got no right to do that. I've done things that aren't kosher, too."
"Yeah? I'll bet. like what?"
"Like sexing Mom."
In the ensuring silence that seemed to spread clear to eternity, I broke out in a cold sweat, yet my hands dampened and felt hot.
"What?" Billie asked, shocked. "I don't believe it."
"She told me not to tell you, and I wouldn't, except I want you to know you're not the only one who does things you shouldn't."
"What did you do with her?"
If I had ever felt inadequate, if I had ever felt sold right down the river, it was nothing in comparison to what I was now experiencing with my son telling my daughter all of the things we had done together. I would have gone into the dining room to stop the course of the conversation, but shock riveted my feet to the floor and I held my breath, hoping only that Mark would stop. But he was talking in a different tone of voice, seeming almost proud of what we had done, as if that finally made him a man who knew what he was speaking about. I also got the impression that he was not merely telling Billie about the sex he had with me so she would hold her younger brother in greater respect. It was becoming obvious that he was bragging about it, was wanting to let Billie know that being a man had its advantages. They had been competitive children, Now Mark was settling that battle that had begun and was not yet finished. The way he was talking, sounding like a young boy one minute, a teenager the next, and a near-man, the next made me realize he was also trying to make his sister jealous.
He had succeeded.
"I want to hear everything you two did together, Mark."
"It's not right for a man to discuss intimate details about the sex he has, Billie. All I'm going to say is that we did everything. I fucked her, I went down on her, and she went down on me."
"I think that's horrible."
"Naw, it was great. I don't even see Barbara anymore. That was my girlfriend before Mom caught us together. Guess mom liked the way I looked, cause she had me in her bed the very next morning."
"You came in her?"
"Course. Not right off. We did a lot of things first."
"like what, Mark?"
"like, I'd suck on her breasts till I got hard and then she'd beg me to put it in her."
"I find that hard to believe."
"You think I'd lie to you about something like that?"
Another long silence occurred and I felt like my heart was right in my throat while I waited to hear what would happen next.
"That's not right, what you, two, did, Mark. It's not right for a mom and a son to screw."
"Look who's getting judgmental now," Mark said, irritated. "You told me your greatest secret and I've told you mine. I didn't say it wasn't right for you to do what you did with another woman, even though everyone else would. Now you're telling me I did the wrong thing. That's what isn't right."
"It's different, Mark. Mom never should have permitted that. I don't like it one bit. And I'm going to tell you something else. I'm going to tell Dad. I'm going to tell him what you told me you and Mom did. And don't think that once I do, the shit isn't going to hit the fan."
"After you and I agreed we wouldn't tell anyone what we said?"
"Precisely."
"You better not, Sis. I told you that in confidence."
"That's one confidence I'm not going to keep. I feel like calling him right now."
"I'll deny it to him, I'll tell him you're lying."
"He'll know which of us is lying. You just wait, Mark."
I let the door to the dining room slide back to its closed position and quietly tiptoed out of the kitchen. I was furious with Mark for telling her, and I knew I was in a very difficult position. If Billie told Justin that, there would be no way I could keep the children when our divorce became final. Quietly going up the stairs to my bedroom, I shut and locked the door. Somehow, I had to figure a way out of this predicament. And I realized the only possible way was to take care of Billie, too.
CHAPTER FIVE
The most difficult meeting I had ever had with my daughter occurred just two days later. The tension in the household ran high, and it was only my fear that made me postpone the inevitable. I had gambled on my instinctive awareness that Billie would not call her father until she had had words with me. And my gamble paid off.
Billie had spent most of her first two days' vacation in her room, her sullen countenance emerging from behind her bedroom door only at mealtimes. All of us, including Mark, ate in silence. None of us tried to break through the heavy atmosphere that hung like a shroud over the household.
The wait gave me time to build up my confidence and to again regain the feeling of being in control of the situation. More than ever, I realized that in spite of the fact Mark had shown evidences of being a man, he was, underneath it all, still a little boy who enjoyed playing games. The hurt Billie was experiencing was on more levels than just losing her lover. I was certain she also felt betrayed, as well as abandoned, by the fact she was convinced something had occurred between Mark and myself.
I had half-expected her to show up in my bedroom late at night to confront me with her knowledge, but she apparently had' not felt up to it. Yet I knew it was important that we talk together. It took all the courage I had that Monday morning to send Mark to the grocery store and on other errands that would take up most of the day so I could talk with Billie.
As soon as Mark left, I went immediately up to her bedroom, not even bothering to do the breakfast dishes.
"Billie?" I called through her door.
"Yeah?"
"It's your mother, dear. I'd like to talk to you. Can I come in."
"Door's open."
I went into her bedroom, closing the door after me. She was lying across her bed, staring out the window, her chin propped on two tightly-clenched fists.
"What you want, Mom?" She rolled across the bed, sitting up on the bedside, tucking her print blouse into her white shorts, before' squaring her shoulders and putting her hands on the knees of her parted legs. The look of boredom she feigned could hardly cover her anger as her dark brown eyes glared at me.
She was looking me up and down, as if I were scum.
"You've hardly said two words to me since you've been home, and I'd like to know why."
"Oh, great," she exclaimed, getting to her feet and dramatically stretching her arms outward as she strode over to the dresser and leaned against it, folding her arms in front of her chest. "My brother tells me he's been screwing my mom and you ask me what's the matter."
She looked at me with full accusation in her eyes but I detected enjoyment in her scowl.
"Is that what you think, dear?"
"That's what he told me. What should I think?"
I moved over to her bed and sat down, watching her. "Just suppose that were true, what he told you, Billie. What difference would that make to you?"
"What difference! Good god, Mom. The difference is, I couldn't respect you as my mother!"
"No?" I asked. "Why not?"
She looked exasperated and hit her fist against her thigh. "Well, do you think it's proper for a mother to have sex with her own son?"
"I think it's time you realized your mother is a human being, a woman, as well as the person who gave birth to you."
"I realize that, of course, but.. . . "
"But what, dear. You mean to tell me you've never done anything that wasn't proper?"
"Well, sure, I have. All the time, I don't do the right thing. But some things are sacred!" As emphasis, she clutched her hands into tight little fists, striking at the air in front of her chest with them.
"You know what I think, Billie? I think you and I ought to have a long talk, right now, woman-to-woman and just forget that we're mother and daughter."
"How can I possibly do that, Mother? That's impossible!"
"No, Billie. No it isn't. And we can start by your calling me Jill for a change. That's my name, you know."
"You're also my mother."
"But my given name is Jill. Maybe if you call me that, then you can talk to me with some compassion. Now come over here, on the bed, and sit down beside me."
I smiled, watching her in conflict as one side of her wanted to do as I wished her to, and the other side wanted nothing to do with me at all. But I knew I had won, even before she put her hands against the drawers of her dresser arid pushed her body in my direction.
"All right," she said, sitting down next to me. "All right, Jill. I'll try it."
"Now I want to tell you where I'm coming from, Billie."
At first, while listening to me talk, she sat on the side of the bed, staring straight ahead. I leveled with her totally, knowing that was the only way it would happen right. I told her I had overheard her talk with Mark, and had learned she was a lesbian. She tensed, hearing me say the word that she had dared not utter in my presence, but I assured her I understood, that in the realm of love, there was never a right or wrong, just the feeling of it, of love, and that that love was the most important treasure in life. She relaxed, moving back on the bed, turning toward me and crossing her legs in front of her. I continued talking, explaining how lonely I had been and how upset I was when her father had left me. "After more than 21 years of marriage, that was a definite blow, Billie!"
"Why did he leave, Mother? No one ever told me."
"He left me because he found me in bed with another man. He thought it was all right for him to be with other women, but not for me to be with another man."
"He's such a male chauvinist pig!" Billie exclaimed.
I shrugged my shoulders and continued. I told her I hadn't had a man for ten months, and that I hadn't had a woman, either. She laughed at that, then listened intently when I told her I had found Mark with his girlfriend in the playroom, and that I had gotten turned on, and how I had gone to bed that night, excited, and began to recall my sexual feelings that I had had for my own children, including her.
"I turned you on?" she asked, her eyes lighting up.
"That's right," I answered her. "A lot of times. Even when you were a young baby. Believe me, it was hard for me to admit that my own daughter could turn me on. Easier for me to admit Mark had done that. 'Course I never told anyone. Can you imagine what your father would say if I told him that?"
"Oh, God," she said, covering her face with her hands. "That would have been a dumb thing to do."
"I wasn't that stupid, but I couldn't forget about it, either. And I guess, with Mark, I just got lost into the feeling of it."
"Then you did have sex with him."
"Yes."
The admission helped. She did not say much for a while, as she considered the import of my words, and was busy assimilating all the data I had fed her.
"I don't think it's fair, that you go to bed with Mark and won't go to bed with me," she said finally, pouting.
"But, Billie," I reminded her. "I didn't say I wouldn't go to bed with you, too."
That stopped her, and she stared straight into my eyes for the first time since I had come to her bedroom. "Well, I want my turn, too. Mark's been walking around like a cock on the walk ever since he told me. It's only fair that I have that experience, too."
"Then why don't we take off our clothes, Billie. Perhaps you can show me something a man can't."
"You first, Jill."
"Very well," I said, starting to unbutton my blue blouse. I removed that, then my navy pants, then my panties. She watched the exposed portions of my body with interest, then, full of life, slipped off the bed, and took off her blouse and shorts. The last to go for both of us was our bras.
"Get into bed, Ma. Under the covers. I've got a lot to show you."
"I'd like to be shown, Billie," I confessed, as I pulled the covers up and got between them.
Her body pressed against mine felt a good deal different than Mark's body, but it was a pleasurable experience. It was not necessary for me to direct her attentions to my breasts. Instinctively, she knew that was an area of sensuality for me and the first thing she did when she got under the covers was to begin to caress them ever so lovingly with her hands.
She was very gentle when she bent down to them, with her head, and began to tease the nipple of my right breast into erection. I watched her tiny mouth open, marveling at the realization it was not that much larger than it had been when she was a tiny baby, doing exactly the same thing. The smallness of her body was an additional excitation factor, and I put my arm around her head, letting it rest on the inside of my upper arm while she sucked my nipple directly into her mouth. She had no self-consciousness once she had the nipple of my breast between her lips. And I must say, she did do it expertly. The gentle tugs and nips to my nipple rapidly made it stiff and the movement of her tongue across the hole of my rosy bud flooded me with sensual feelings. Her small hands holding the flesh of my breast, her spread fingers digging lightly into it, enhanced the feeling she was generating in me. I doubt I had ever felt as protective toward her as I did then and I kept sliding into the strange awareness that she was not a grown woman, but still a little baby, needing the breast as much as I needed to give it to her.
"Oh, you sweet little thing. Oh, you wonderful girl. Oh, you fine daughter," I said, as she quickened the flicks of her tongue across the nipple and ever so gently surrounded my aureolae with her lips and began sucking very earnestly. Her flat tongue slid across the tip of my nipple every other suck she gave to it, and in a very short time, it became apparent that she had reached a high state of excitation herself.
She was no longer tentative in the sucking she was giving me. She had released herself into the moment, and it was passion she was transmitting to me as her sucks became more rapid and heated. She had glommed onto the nipple, was drawing it deep into her mouth, and I watched a goodly portion of my breast taken also between her lips and her teeth.
She looked as virginal as a tiny baby, happy and contented with my breast in her mouth. The color had returned to her sunken cheeks, and a healthy glow was beginning to emanate from her face. Several times, she rolled her eyes upward, to watch the effect her ministrations to my breast were having on me.
I was certain the expression on my face showed her how pleasurable it was for me. Again, I got that very strange feeling that she was sucking a substance out of my body and into her mouth, although I knew I had no breast milk for her. The feeling, however strange, was excruciating, was making me feel more tender toward her than I had felt in years. With the arm I held around her head, I brought her closer to me, and the intensity of her sucking was increased with my response.
"Just a minute, honey. Just a minute, dear. Let me give you the other one, the other breast, sweetie."
Dutifully, she opened her mouth while I took my right breast from her and turned on my side so she had access to my left breast. She clasped it in her hands, rolled it between her fingers, forcing it into a nice little cone from which my nipple pointed outward. She ran her finger across the tip of the nipple as if she were studying it. Then she opened her mouth, and with her hands, directed the tip into it. My aureolae, as well as the nipple, was soon bathed with her warm saliva, and just a second later, her wet tongue circled my nipple, pressed it toward her left cheek, then her right, and the wonderful sucking began again. She was locking onto it greedily, sucking on it as if she would never stop, never let it go.
I moved my arm down her back, forced her body against my own. The feeling of her thigh against my pubic bone created another surge of sexual, sensual feeling. It was an added excitation factor, to say the very least. I rolled over on my own thigh and she was soon pressing her cunt against my own while she continued to suck with intensity on my breast, still kneading the flesh surrounding my nipple with her hands. One hand left its breast position to move down my stomach, then my abdomen.
I felt her dainty hand slip through my pubic hairs and her small finger slide into the top of my slit. Finding such wetness between my legs make her suck on me more rapidly and the finger that had found my slot was weaving across my clitoris with similar, rapid movements as her tongue across my nipple. I moved my left leg back, letting it rest on the mattress and her finger pressed lower, deeper into my crack which was so wet and wanting.
She was enjoying the fact that she had turned me on so much and I got the feeling she was most interested in giving me an experience I would not forget, ever. I doubted if I ever could. She added two fingers to the one that was already wet with my juices and all three fingers slipped easily down my crack and back up.
She switched breasts, releasing my left nipple and taking the right back into her mouth while she dug her fingers deep into my crack. The pressure of her fingers soon led her to my vagina and her three fingers slid around the rim of it, pleasing it, before she inserted her fingers into it. Once they were in a couple of inches, she made them into a cone and rotated them, providing those warm membranes with such a delicate pleasure, it was indeed, unparalleled in my previous experience.
"Oh, Billie. Those fingers, your mouth, they are making me feel incredibly good. Oh, you sweet, wonderful girl, to do such a thing to your mother, to make her feel so good and sensual."
She pressed her fingers into my vagina deep as they would go and seemed upset that she could get no further in. Drawing her fingers out another time, she rapidly slid them up and down my spread pussy, pressing the heel of her palm hard against my mound, rocking it upward and backward. I spread my legs wider. That feeling that she had evoked was too great to do otherwise. My clitoris was throbbing with a rapidity that made me feel I never wanted her to stop and the little thrusts I made against her hand to increase and enhance my pleasure must have told her it was time to do more.
With a final upward roll of her eyes and an expression that said she was sorry, she left my breast and her head disappeared under the covers. Her tongue trailed down my stomach and my abdomen as she maneuvered down on the bed and got between my legs, first rolling me over on my back.
I felt the fingers of both her hands first, each providing my quim with great pleasure as they forced my vulva open. She breathed heavily across my clit, warming it for contact with her still warmer mouth. She dug her tongue into my crack, midway between my clit and my vagina, pausing as if she wasn't certain which portion to attend to first. The upward glide of her tongue did not disappoint me and I watched the covers of the bed rise as her head forced them up in the air.
When her tongue made direct contact with my clitoris, it was all I could do to keep from crying out. She slid that tongue across my entire clitoral mound, pressing membrane fold after membrane fold away from my clit. Her fingers aided the process, separating my lips and forcing my mound to elongate, to reveal the source of my pleasure.
Although I knew she could not directly see what was in front of her, her imagination was good, and I was happy that she had been with other women. The practice she had had was giving me pleasure of the highest sort. And when her mouth opened and covered my entire mound, when her tongue was sliding across my clit with the same expertise as it had across my nipple, there was no feeling in the world I had ever had that quite matched what I was feeling right at that moment. She sucked on my hot membranes and I could feel them rub against her teeth as she forced much of my mound deep into her mouth.
As soon as she had a firm hold on my mound, her tongue got busy, sliding across that portion that was most sensitive, warming it, making it throb all the more, and the way my legs spread wider, the way I arched my cunt upward, making more of my mound sink into her teeth, signaled to her the excitement I was experiencing. It was certainly so extreme, it was not possible for me to tell her about it. Words could not do that feeling justice. What she was doing was making all the skin on the back of my head tighten and all I could do was to open my mouth so my heavy breathing was facilitated.
Her expert mouth soon found the throbbing clitoris what was in such a state of excitation. When she began sucking on that small nub that filled my being with such passion, it was all I could do to keep from coming. Her fingers were not lax, they continued their slide up and down my wide-spread crack, eventually landing again in my vagina which was pressured inward with the steady strikes that permitted her to gain deep entry.
Good as that felt, it was merely the icing on the cake. The seat of my passion was occurring in the clit she was so nicely, so delicately sucking on. I got the impression she was sucking so hard it would leave my body and become a part of her.
But even that concern did not stop the upward swelling of my passion that made my clit feel it was so engorged that just another suck, another swipe of her warm tongue, would be sufficient to make it explode.
She seemed to sense how close I was to coming because all of her movements, her ministrations, became more rapid. With the strength in my legs and back, I lifted my entire torso up and not once did she stop her fast-sucking movements that were slowly driving me into a wonderful orgasmic state.
When it began to happen, I could not pinpoint. I was aware only of the passionate throb, of the wonderful feelings she was giving to my cunt. I was aware only that I could not last much longer. I was aware only of the way my mouth opened as wide as it could go and no sound came forth although it seemed my entire body wanted to express the depth of feeling she had culled in me, just by her sucks to my clit and the driving of her fingers into my vagina.
All time, all awareness seemed to stop then, as all my body processes were suspended in time and space. That feeling went on for what seemed like an eternity, before the floods of throbs occurring both in clit and vagina and all through my cunt rolled forth much like a huge wave that had crested for the longest time before it crashed with a thunderous roar. The orgasmic waves continued to rock and roll me and my buttocks rocked against the mattress as the orgasm sped to culmination, as her sucks became more intense, as she slammed her fingers deep as they could go into my vagina and held them there with all her strength.
"That's it, Billllie," I groaned. "That was it, darling. Oh, honey, it felt so good. Oh, baby, come up here and let me hold you close."
She made me wait, gently kissing my mound before sliding her body up and her head emerged from under the covers. Again she lay with her head on my arm and I kissed her on the lips, enjoying the fresh, musky taste of the juices I had left on her face. I kissed her eyes, her mouth, her nose, and when I drew back from her, she was glowing.
"like that?" she asked.
"Loved it," I answered, and I wasn't lying at all.
"Better than the guys?" she asked.
"I can see why women turn gay," I answered. "There is nothing quite like it."
"If you need something deeper in your vagina, I can go buy another dildo," Billie said, eagerly watching for my response.
"I can't imagine anything more exciting than what you just did."
"The only other thing that might be as good is your doing me."
"That I want to do," I admitted.
"Well, that's a big turn-on, too."
We lay holding one another for many minutes before I concerned myself with the possibility that Mark might be returning at any moment. It would not be good for him to find us together.
"I think we ought to get up, Billie. Mark's coming back soon."
"So?"
"So I think we ought to get up."
"I'd like to lie like this longer."
"Next time, maybe we can, but not now."
Resignedly, Billie pulled back the covers of the bed and got off it, putting on her clothes. I picked mine up, telling her I wanted to shower, and walking, nude, went down the hallway to my room.
"Okay if I come, too, Mom, Jill, I mean?"
"Of course, but if you hear Mark come home, let me know."
Billie came into the bathroom with me while I showered, all the while talking excitedly.
"Just want you to know, Mom, you've made me very happy. I'm not even sorry my girlfriend went off with someone else."
I laughed, giving my body a good soaping before stepping under the hot streams of water thundering forth from the three showerheads.
"Just remember that I can't be your girlfriend, I'm your Mother remember?"
"Oh, I know," she said, squinting through the steamed shower door. "And I won't tell anybody, either, Mom. I know it'd upset Mark if he knew we had been together and it had even been better than it was with him!"
"It's better that we keep quiet about it."
"And I won't tell Daddy, either, Mom."
"I would hope not."
"Don't worry, I'll be cool about it all. Although I'm sure I won't be able to think straight until we get together again. Would you go down on me sometime, Mom?"
I turned off the shower and stepped onto the bathroom rug, taking the towel she handed me.
I dried the front of my body and Billie dried the back.
"Honey, there's something I'd like to tell you about life."
"Yeah, what?" she asked.
"Life is to be experienced in the moments, as they occur. Planning something like that is asking for disappointment and trouble."
She grinned, and handed me my clothes. I put them on, noticing that Billie looked relaxed and peaceful, surprisingly lovely. Without her driving tension, she was strikingly beautiful, very similar to how I had looked when I was a young woman, before I married Justin. Billie had the same high cheekbones, the same upward slant of her large dark eyes. Relaxed, they looked dreamy, and the features of her face looked soft instead of intense, more congruent with her tiny, upturned nose, which had been the bane of her existence. Many times she had deplored the fact she had a "cute" nose, instead of a strong one. But I doubted if she deplored anything, now that she felt on equal terms with her brother.
"What do you say we do the dishes, then go Christmas shopping?" I asked her.
"Great idea, Mom. Dad sent me an extra hundred so I could get some good gifts, but now I feel I'd like to spend it all on you."
"I've got some money for you, too, Billie. Took it out of savings."
"Then I'll be able to get some really good gifts, for everyone. Let's hurry, Mom. Together we can get the dishes done in no time flat. I even want to get Mark a good gift!"
"Why don't you get dressed to go, Billie? Wear something warm. Then come down and help."
"Okay, Mom. With the boots I got, I'll be nearly as tall as you!"
I watched her run out of the bedroom, and I must admit I was flooded with good feelings. It was the first time in as long as I could remember that Billie had looked so young and carefree.
CHAPTER SIX
The added strain of Christmas shopping was not what was making all of us so unnerved. For five days, I had felt bounced from one conflict to another. If I went shopping with Billie, Mark got upset. If I was with Mark, Billie began pouting.
At the meals I fixed, both children wanted my company. Each of them fought over what they could do to help me. I had never gotten such assistance in the kitchen, with the cleaning, or in the yard. With son and daughter each trying to outdo one another, it was easy to keep our three-story, Spanish-style home neat and picked up. But Billie kept telling Mark that he was becoming effeminate, by doing the house chores, and regularly, she sent him outside to wash the cars and mow the lawn. "That's what a man's supposed to do," she insisted. Only with a grumble did he leave the heated rooms of the house, returning several hours later rubbing his hands for warmth with an uneasiness in his eyes.
One evening, finally cornering me in the breakfast room, he eagerly asked if I would go to the drive-in with him.
"But we can't leave Billie alone, Mark!" I answered him. "We'll have her company for only another week."
"Ma, for God's sakes," he argued, stamping his foot. "Ever since she came, you and I haven't even been alone. And you know what else? She even implied that you and she had something to do with one another!"
He watched my response intently, almost accusingly, but I was no longer uneasy about what I had done with either of them and I could be calm.
"That's probably because you implied the same thing to her. Maybe she wanted to get back at you."
"That's what I told her, too. I told her there's no way you could want to have anything to do with a female. But she said I was wrong again. She said you and she went to bed, too. Did ya, ma?"
I wanted to take the ear of my young son and force him up the stairs with me, into his room, where I could paddle his little behind. In the time I had not given him exclusive attention, he had returned to being a little, bratty boy. He had been the one who had been most argumentative, who had started most the fights with Billie that ended up with accusations and bitterness, with ugly words being tossed at one another. But I had to realize how young he actually was, in spite of the fact his body was that of a man. He was just beginning to get a feeling for his own maleness, a sense of his own identity. My having sex with him had given him a greater sense of self. My abandonment of him had occurred at a crucial time. I realized I could not really blame him for being so upset. Nevertheless, I had had my fill of fights and arguments, and I resolved, they would stop that very night.
"How? How else than by having their bodies get together? It had worked with Mark and with Billie and myself. Why wouldn't it work with the two of them? The more I thought about it, the more convinced I was that, in terms of the very strange situation that had developed in our family constellation during the past weeks, it was the only way full closeness could be effected.
"Didya, Ma?" Mark was insistent, wanting, begging for my answer.
"I'll answer that after you do one thing for me, Mark."
"I want to know now, Ma."
"All right, Mark. Sit down at the breakfast table. I'll make us some coffee."
The scraping of wooden chair legs across the linoleum floor grated at my ears as I turned on the stove burner under the kettle of water. I waited in the kitchen until it was boiling, poured the steaming water into two cups into which I had put a level teaspoon of freeze-dried coffee, and took them to the breakfast room table. Mark was tense, eagerly waiting for the answer I had promised I would give him, and ignored the coffee I had placed in front of him.
"I want to tell you something first, Mark. You made it very difficult for me by telling Billie you and I had sex with one another do, you realize that?"
He looked down at the table, embarrassed.
"I know, Ma."
"It made me feel I was being unfair to Billie."
"So you went to bed with her so she wouldn't feel bad, right, Ma?"
Anger flooded into him, teasing his facial features, but I met his look and he became embarrassed again.
"That's right. And now I feel badly about how you children are fighting so close to Christmas. I want that stopped right now, and I have determined there is only one way to do it."
"You want me to screw Billie."
"That's right. You catch on quick. But I want to be there with you, to make sure you are gentle with her. I don't think she's ever been to bed with a man, and I think it will help her and you, too. Mainly I think it will help you two get along better."
"Christ, Mom. You're asking for a lot. Most of the time, all we do is fight."
"You're the one starting most of the fights, Mark. This is your chance to stop them."
He leaned back in his chair and sighed. "When is this supposed to happen?"
"Tonight. As soon as Billie gets back, we'll discuss it with her. Then we'll repair to my bedroom. You two will get on the bed and start acting like loving brother and sister, while I make sure everything is very loving."
"Oy vey," he said, but he agreed he would.. . .
Mark stretched his nude body onto the brown satin bedspread and watched Billie reluctantly remove her clothes. She was uneasy, and I sensed it was only out of loyalty and love for me that she had agreed to the meeting with her brother.
I surveyed her nice, full breasts when she removed her bra, noticing that they remained pert and firm even without support. They were very nice breasts and I was certain, with the practice Mark had had with me, that he could excite Billie with his sucking technique. She slipped her panties over her tight little hips and buttocks, and stepped out of them, kicking them with her foot under the bed. She turned to me, her hands covering her pubic area.
"Okay," she said. "Now what?"
I eased back in the cushions of my yellow settee placed against the wall opposite the bed and spread my legs out in front of me.
"Get on the bed. Next to your brother."
She did as I told her to, rolling over on her back next to Mark and folding her arms across her breasts, looking at the ceiling. She was stiff as a board.
"I don't think it's going to work, Mom."
"Why not?"
"He isn't even excited. His prick is like a limp sausage."
"Then make it hard for him," I answered simply. "How?"
"By sucking on it, of course."
"And what about me? I'm not excited, either."
"Take care of him, first. Then I'm sure he'll take care of you."
"Do I have to."
"You have to."
She was still reluctant as she moved down on the bed, turned onto her stomach and studied my son's limp prick. She ran her finger from his dark pubic hairs right along his staff and up to the tip. She lifted it into the air, then let it fall to his body. In spite of her reluctance, she seemed to be intrigued with it, and not a little bit impressed by its large size. She also became intrigued with his testicles and pressed her finger into them.
"This what all guys look like?" she wondered aloud.
"No. Mark is what one calls really hung. His penis is very large. Most men are much smaller."
"I'm almost afraid to get it big! Won't it hurt me?"
"Not if you're excited, dear."
Mark seemed to enjoy our conversation and his body relaxed for the first time since we had all been together. He had been better primed for the meeting, and I gathered the prospect of having sex with his sister was something he would not mind at all. He spread his legs slightly and put his hands behind his head. The movement made his chest expand and his stomach disappear between the bones of his hips.
Billie also studied the many hairs spreading across his abdomen and stomach and reaching upward to his chest. But she was more interested in his penis.
"Why don't you kiss it, Sis."
"God, I don't know if I can do that."
"Certainly you can, Billie," I broke in. "How do you think you'll ever be able to write fiction if you haven't been with a man. This is a good opportunity for you, so I suggest you go with the experience."
She lifted his prick in her two hands, made it stand straight up as if she were determining its inch length. She moved her shoulders closer to his thighs and began to drive her tongue from its base, on up his staff to the very tip. Mark turned his body slightly toward her, as if urging her to work faster.
"Come on, Sis. Make it hard. You know you can. Put your mouth over the tip. Suck on it a little."
Now she seemed to become more interested, since it had hardened slightly. She brought it toward her face, lifted her head so she could tongue the tip. Her long, bushy hair covered her shoulders as her small tongue made delicate, tentative stabs across the top of his tip. Mark rolled over on his side to watch. She grasped her hands around his staff and gripped the flesh tight, then pumped it slightly, seeming to become enthralled with the way the penis was hardening right in her clasp, the way the outer flesh rolled so easily up and down the harder, inside portion. She pulled the tip toward her, studied the small hole in his opening, pressed her finger into it, then put her tongue on it.
Mark smiled, placing his large hand on the back of her head, urging her on. With its hardening came her own excitement, as if she was pleased that the penis could become hard under her care. She watched the look on his face as her tiny tongue slid across the tip of it, liking the way Mark closed his eyes and the look of pleasure that relaxed his features. He now looked like the man I had seen when he and I were having sex. He was no longer a little boy, the younger brother of Billie. With the hardening of his penis came his confidence.
"That feels good, Sis. Nice the way your tongue slides across my cock. Keep pumping it. That makes it feel good, too."
Billie quickened the pump of her hand and now she quickly slid her tongue around the soft smooth portion of the tip, driving her brother into more excitation. His cock was fully-erect now, standing proud through the healthy pumps she was giving it. They were both so engrossed in what was happening, it was as if they forgot my presence, forgot I was watching, and I relaxed for the first time myself, fully enjoying seeing my two Siblings get into the rhythm of sexing one another so nicely. It was the first time I had seen them get along well together for many years.
The look on Mark's face was a combination of tenderness and excitation. When Billie opened her mouth and let the inside of her lips begin to suck the tip of his cock directly into her mouth, he rolled back on the bed and began to push his cock into her deeper. She could sense his excitement and her own was triggered. She did not even bat a pretty eyelash while she was so busy sucking and his hand slipped underneath her body and began to give her cunt attention. She spread her legs, permitting him entry into her crack and the pumping of her hand increased in its intensity. She was drawing her lips over as much of his cock as possible, and I was certain the head of it must be touching the back of her throat. She became intrigued with the idea of providing his tight balls with sensation and along with the pumping of her right hand came the underneath gripping of his balls in her fingers, which lifted and lowered them while she continued her long, steady sucks.
She must have been wet between her legs, because Mark began slamming his long middle finger into her vagina, and she rotated her body so her clit was open and available to him. His finger kept sliding in and out of her vagina. I could almost imagine the feeling he was causing in Billie, and several times, I even thought I heard the slurp his wet finger caused in her wet membranes.
"Come on, Sis, not fair you do all the work," Mark said, clearly excited. "Sides, there's a lot for you to learn. Lots to learn how men and women can make one another feel good. Common, roll over, Billie."
Billie did not want to give up sucking his cock, that was obvious from the upset expression she had when he pushed her over on her back.
"You can have it back, Sis, but I want to give you some of that feeling, too," Mark said, getting on his knees. His long cock pointed toward the bedspread while he maneuvered between her legs, lifted her small buttocks in the palm of his hands, and let his face rub against her pubic hairs as he separated her quim lips with his nose, and ran it up and down her crack, much to her pleasure.
"Lick me, Mark. Lick me there. I love it when I'm licked there, when it feels so warm and sensuous. Please, Mark, do it for me."
But Mark waited, still running his nose up and down her crack, finally opening her slit with the two fingers of his right hand, which he drew back from her rear for their more important work. For a long time, holding her lips apart, he studied the pink glistening membranes of her crack.
"God, Billie," he said. "You've got a beautiful quim, your clit, everything, it's lovely."
He bent forward and began tonguing her, rapidly slipping his tongue from the very top of her cunt, circling her clitoral mound, then sliding his tongue backward until it rested against her vagina. He probed it inward a couple of times, until the fingers of her hand gripped the back of his head, and forced his face upward. He got the hint, and began running his fiat tongue into her wide-spread crack, starting at her bottom and digging all the way up to her clitoris, where he remained to push his tongue hard against it.
Billie was responding wildly, was thrashing her body back and forth on the bed, had lifted her legs into the air, had clasped the back of her legs with her hands and was rocking on the bed to the left, then to the right, a fantastic look of pleasurable sensuality spreading throughout her face. Her lip curled as she arched her pussy upward, watching her brother hold her stationary with his hands so he could lap at her cunt like a dog might. His long tongue went from her butt cheeks all the way up, then returned to her butt cheeks to start the pleasing process another time.
It gave me such a good feeling to see the sex juices of my daughter make the cheeks, the mouth, the chin of my son glisten so. How nice it was to see them getting along so yell together, to be tender and loving to one another. My only concern was that Billie, because she was so excited, might let herself have an orgasm. And that would have been too bad, because there was a lot more she could learn if she could only hold off.
But it didn't look like she was. She let her legs fall back to the bed, lifted her rear from the mattress at least four inches and with her hands again placed around the back of Mark's head, pressed his face right into her spread quim. Then, once his face was buried into her crack, she rotated her groin and I am sure, not one of her sex portions was not being grated against during the process.
Mark did not seem to mind. He got into the feeling of it, too, and began rotating his face, grinding it further into her. I doubt if he would have stopped were it not difficult for him to breath.
His hands on her abdomen made her fall back to the mattress and his shoulders butted against the back of her thighs as he moved further up on her body, as he slanted his tongue across her clitoris so rapidly it was hard to perceive his movements.
"Suck on it, Mark. Suck on my clit!" Billie squealed and, breathing deeply, closed her eyes as his mouth widened and was planted directly on her raised mound. His mouth closed onto it and I could only imagine the feelings that were coursing through her as his lips moved like a cow chewing its cud and I was certain his lips, tongue and teeth, too, were giving her clit pleasure.
He put his strong arm under her butt and lifted her entire body upward as he got to his knees. Still holding her rear in the air, not once missing a chew to her mound, his rod swaying from one thigh to the other, he slowly moved his body up the bed, straddling her head with his legs and offering her his huge cock.
While he sucked so nicely, so energetically on her clit, her mound, she opened her mouth like she was ready to receive the horn of plenty. He lowered his prick into her mouth and she glommed onto it like a baby at a bottle, holding its staff while she sucked at the tip, pumping it even while it was in her mouth. Loving and laving it with the same consideration and care he was giving to her mound.
He drew his hand around her rear and began running his fingers up and down her crack underneath the mound he was sucking on, then, finding the hole leading to her vagina, pressed two fingers into it, and began digging through her vaginal membranes until only his knuckles were apparent to me. Again, she drew her legs upward in the air, rotated her body. I could see the wide spread of her crack, etched at the outer sides with dark pubic hairs.
His other hand was busy at her breast, pinching her nipples into greater excitation, occasionally rapidly rubbing his palm across the nipple. Of the two, he was in control of the situation. Although she clung to the large staff of his cock, pumping it with her two tightly-clenched fists, he was the one who kept driving it deeper into her mouth as he bent forward over her body and then moved his rear backward.
It was difficult to remain in objective bystander seeing the heat of my son's and daughter's passion. It was catching, making me excited as well. I fully wished I was participating in the sex, was on the bed with them, was also feeling their hot breaths, their hot hands, their hot mouths, and their hot bodies with my own. The skin of my face was hot, burning, and even the rocking on the cushion did not give solace to my own aching cunt. With son and daughter taken care of by their own passion, it only seemed appropriate that I should satisfy some of my own urgings and when I finally spread my legs and drew my own hand up my pants leg until it pressed against my clit, the fast rubbing to it made me feel like I was a part of the passion.
I moved forward on the cushion of the settee, rubbing myself harder, feeling my own passion rise.
That of both my children remained at a zenith, and it became necessary for Mark to stop. He moved backward from Billie's mound, removed his finger from her vagina and raised up on his knees, watching her frantic pumps to his cock.
"Just a minute, Billie. Wait a minute. You got me too excited."
His rod throbbing, he sat back on his haunches, his fingers digging into his thighs, watching her while he took his deep breaths and shook his head several times.
"You're really too much, Sis. Hard to keep control with you sucking on it like that. It'd be a shame for me to come off. Then where would we be?"
"We're not going to stop now?" she asked, her own breaths coming as heavily as his.
"No, we're not stopping, just taking a break. Do me a favor, Billie. Turn your body around, so your feet are in my direction. Do that, Billie, will you?"
"Sexual intercourse time?" she wondered as she did as he requested.
"Sorta like that. Just want to get up you, just want to feel me inside you. But I gotta wait, first."
He watched her sit up and turn her body around as he had requested. She stretched her legs out to either side of him. He stared at the crack her pubic hairs did not hide, then moved forward on his knees, supporting his body weight on his hands while he began lowering his body to meet Billie's. She was excited enough not to get upset when his cock rubbed against her pussy.
"Rub it across your cunt, Sis. Take it by the staff, and dig the tip into you."
He watched her do it, and so did I.
"Okay, I'm going to slide my legs backward on the bed. Push the tip next to your vagina."
Billie smiled while she did as he suggested.
"Feels good there, Mark."
"Should," he answered. "Now I'm going to move it forward, so it'll go in a little bit."
"Just a little, Mark, at first."
"Yeah, at first."
"You'll stop if it hurts me, won't you, Mark?"
"Yeah, for sure. I'll take it real easy, Sis. I'll make it so it won't hurt, if I can."
"Well, okay," she said, dubiously, looking at his large prick and probably wondering how it could not hurt.
He lowered his body covering hers, but kept his weight off her with his elbows. Then he began pushing it into her, very slowly.
"It's my first time with a man, you know," Billie said uneasily.
"Yeah, but doesn't it feel good?"
"I gotta admit it does, Mark."
"Now aren't you sorry you haven't tried it before?
"Well, sorta," she admitted, raising her body up slightly so he could get into her easier. "But it still scares me, sorta."
"Well, let me know if I hurt you."
He took great care, gently pushing his prick into her, stopping each time he noticed her grimace, and waiting until the slight upward rotation of her groin indicated she could take more. Knowing Mark, knowing how excited he got when he was going up a vagina, I knew he was exerting maximum control in order that Billie's first time with a man would not frighten her.
"You gotta relax, Billie. You're tense, that's why it's hurting, that's why it's so hard for me to get up you."
"I'm trying to relax, Mark. But it hurts when you put it into me."
"Just pretend it's a dildo, Billie. Then maybe it won't seem to hurt you as much."
"I'll try, Mark."
Billie did try, that I can attest to. She leaned back on the bed, her eyes tightly shut, her teeth gritted against possible hurt as Mark pushed his prick into her. He was having difficulty getting it into her, and only the very tip of his maleness had gained headway. The rest of his large cock, looking purple and wanting, remained outside her. As if he had a better idea, he moved back again, supporting his body weight on his haunches, pulling Billie onto his thighs. With his hands clutched behind her buttocks he tried to sink his cock into her by pulling her forward on his thighs while he attempted to force his cock deeper into her. His idea failed, and his rod slipped out of her, eventually resting on her pubic hairs.
He became embarrassed and upset and pushed the hair back on his head with his hands.
"Maybe if you get on your knees, Billie. Maybe if you get on your knees and hands and let me enter you through the rear, maybe that'll do it?"
"Sounds like that'll hurt even more."
"I don't think so, Sis. Let's try it anyway."
"Maybe it just won't work, Mark. Maybe I'm just not made to have sex with guys, just with gals."
"Look," he said, becoming more exasperated by the minute. "Do as I say, just this once, Billie."
I watched Billie roll over on the bed and support herself with her hands while her tiny rump was positioned right in front of Mark. He moved forward on his knees, holding the staff of his rod, probing the tip against her quim.
"You'll have to move it so I can get in your hole, Billie. I can't do it this way. Let your head go down on the mattress, you know, cross your arms and rest your head on them, Sis. That'll make you open to me. Then I can get it in you, I think."
The difficulty they were experiencing had taken the edge off their passion, and I was becoming more upset by the moment. What had promised to be a meeting that would bring brother and sister together, once and for all, had developed a snag. My own excitement lessened as my mind raced rapidly, searching for a solution to their problem. Billie was resting her head on her arms, and that position made her cunt more available to Mark, but my handsome son seemed confused, and was not moving into her forcefully, as he should have done. All that was necessary was for him to give her vagina one of his strong rams with his cock, which would drive his spear past Billie's crucial zone, but he was barely jabbing at her, and with each minor thrust, he waited, as if he was afraid even that little movement was going to be too much for her.
He was no longer acting with confidence and his timidity was affecting Billie adversely.
"It's just not going to work, Mark. I know it won't. I just can't do it with a man." She turned her head in my direction, upset. "I'm sorry, Mom, I tried to do it, you saw me try. I just can't."
"Well, if you're not interested, neither am I," Mark said, sliding off the bed and staring at his rod which was rapidly losing its erection. "No way it'll stay hard if the woman isn't willing."
I wasn't going to let the evening I had planned go to waste. It was highly important to me that my children have intercourse with one another. It was not merely that I would enjoy watching them have their sexual pleasure. The reasons were far more complex. I was in a highly tenable position, owing to the fact I had had something to do sexually with each of them. If either of them got angry at me, they could use that fact as a hammer to hold over my head to get me to do what they wanted me to. I did not like being in a position of being open to blackmail by my own children. I did not like the worry about what would happen when Justin joined us to celebrate the Christmas holiday, It was crucial, to my own sense of well-being, that my two children no longer be at odds with one another. If Justin perceived even the slightest bit of discord in the family, he could use that against me, and I could end up a very great loser, not only in the divorce settlement of financial matters, but also in the possible loss of custody of my own children. Without them, I would be totally lost. Many times, while I lay in my bed at night asking myself why I had permitted such things to happen with my children, why I had let my own sexual desires lead me to their beds, I had wondered if I would be punished in some way for my indiscretions. The only solution to the problem that I could conceive of was winning both of them over so totally, that they felt more beholden to me than to Justin.
And I was not going to let the fears of my lesbian daughter ruin my plans.
CHAPTER SEVEN
"I can see you both need some help," I said, getting to my feet and walking over to Mark. "Get back on the bed, Mark, Mother's going to join you."
Mark obeyed me, "sitting on the edge of the bed, while I pulled my tan sweater over my head and let it fall to the floor. Both of them watched me remove my brown slacks and un-snap my bra. Their eyes seemed riveted to my large breasts as they rolled down on my rib cage, my nipples hard, then lowered their gaze to watch my pubic hairs emerge from the panties I drew down my legs and stepped out of.
"That'll help a lot, Mom." Billie commented. "I couldn't get away from the feeling you were being left out of everything."
"It's not so hard to have sex with a man, if you only relax, Billie," I said, watching son and daughter separate to make room for me. "Maybe I can show you how."
I pushed my body across the spread, sliding between them and then rolling over on my back. I ran one hand across the strong back muscles of my son, while the other tended to Billie's thigh.
"Why don't you concentrate on getting me excited. That'll take care of the self-consciousness you're both feeling."
I put my hands on my own thighs, then dug my fingers into my crack and rubbed it slightly before I ran my hands up my abdomen and stomach to take hole of my pendulous breasts, lifting them so their large size would become more obvious.
"You both know what I like a lot. You can start on them any time you wish."
The light from the lamp on the bedside table to my right cast its shadow across my body as Mark leaned over to do my bidding. He took my right breast from my hand, gripping it as he lowered his mouth to it, lightly trailing his tongue across the nipple before he sucked it into his mouth. Billie bent down to my other breast, rapidly flicking her tongue across the nipple, before her own two hands began to knead the flesh. Watching the heads of my two children bob as they both seemed to want to give me greater pleasure than the other, was a highly-enjoyable sight. Feeling their slick tongues make my nipples warm, make my passion return, was providing me with a highly sensual sensation that warmed my entire body. The outside wind that was making the windows behind us rattle slightly was soon not noticed. Once the sexuality began to pervade my being, I could leave the uneasiness my own guilt caused in me and forget everything I had been worrying about. Their gentle sucks to my nipples were relaxing me, as well as turning me on. I realized it would be all right. It could not be otherwise with the care and gentleness son and daughter exhibited as they so diligently worked to insure their mother's pleasure.
Mark's penis was returning to its stiff state as his tongue rolled so languorously across my breast, titillating my nipple into greater hardness. He was the first to roll his body to mine, to let me see how giving him my breast had driven his penis into full erection. Billie soon followed his lead, and was even more energetic with clasping her legs around my thigh and letting me see how wet she was in-between. While she sucked, she rocked her groin, the lips of her wet pussy separating with her movement. She spread her pussy juices across my skin with her rapid upward movements. My own quim was becoming wetter, and warmer minute by minute, and the throbs of my clitoris were a continual reminder of the depths of feeling they were driving me to.
I turned my head to watch Mark's expert sucks to my breast and became more turned on as he pressed his thighs to mine, forcing his rod to slide up my hip. I let my arms slide underneath the heads of son and daughter, holding them as gently as I ever had. But how different it was with both my breasts being taken care of at the same time, one by Mark and one by Billie. How better it was that both nipples were being driven into excruciating sensation with gentle sucks and warmth and wetness, by the busy mouths of son and daughter, each tugging and pulling at the nipples they were locked onto like their only interest in life was to give them the greatest sensation possible.
The sexuality I was experiencing was incomparable. At no time, ever, had my breasts given me so much pleasure. One spread to my right, being held by my son, the look on his strong features one of pleasure and intensity; the other being pulled to my left, by the gripping hands of my daughter, who never once stopped the gentle kneading that continued to force more of my breast into her mouth.
It was so much better, their being older and doing that. The stiff rod of my son slowly sliding up my hip, the clasp of his knees around my thigh forcing me harder against his penis, was spreading my quim lips to the gentle warm air currents in my bedroom. Billie had maneuvered her right leg under mine, and had pulled my thigh more toward her as her ankles locked, and the grind of her pussy against my thigh had quickened. My legs were soon spreading under no tension of their own. Each child's own movements made them part as much as the breasts that were being pulled to right and left.
"Oh, you two children, you each do me so nicely. Oh, you cannot imagine how good it feels to have your mouths on my breasts, to have you suckle my nipples so nicely. Oh, you are both so nice, you are both making me feel so good. You have never made me feel so good, not once, ever. You both suck so good. You're both so wonderful. You please your mother so nicely."
My encouragement enhanced their sucks and they became more intense, in both right and left breast. If I had to decide which breast was providing me with more pleasure, I could not have done so. Mark's more intense sucks took precedence in my mind one minute, Billie's more gentle tongue ministrations became more predominant the next. The press of my son's rod against my thigh was highly exciting, but so was Billie's wet press of her rubbing quim lips and the feel of her warm cunt.
"But you're not going to just do that, are you? Aren't you going to give me pleasure elsewhere?"
Mark was the first to move his hand to the inside of my thigh, and to move it upward to rub the knuckles of his hand against the slickness forming in my cunt. He rocked the back of his hand against my clitoris, then dug his fingers into my crack. Billie's more delicate tough was soon felt there, their fingers both fighting for position.
"Mark, put your finger up me, up my vagina, sweetie. Make it feel as good as my breast. Make your finger go up me and then draw it out again, honey. See how wet you've made me."
His finger was up me in bare seconds, slicing the inner walls of my vagina apart, and driving it up me as far as he could get it. Then he began slamming that finger into me and pulling it out nearly totally before he forced me apart again.
"And you, Billie. Rub my clit like you do so well. Do that for your mother, honey."
She knew how to do it well, her three fingers pressed to a point, finding my clit and surrounding it with pleasurable sensation as she rotated her hand. She slipped all three fingers across the nub, then added the heel of her palm which pressed all that throbbing portion upward, toward my stomach, stretching the membranes of my cunt, making the pressure of my vagina against my son's fingers greater.
And not once did they stop that wonderful sucking they were giving to each breast. How wonderful to have children who were so intent on giving their mother pleasure! How wonderful I felt with their mouths so busy at my nipples and their hands so busy between my legs. How wonderful to feel a rod against one lea; and a hot quim against the other. How wonderful like had suddenly become. I felt as if I was being pulled right apart by the sexuality that was coursing through me. It was hard to be able to focus on any one portion that was being so pleasantly stimulated. All of it was just too good, felt so fine, was making me feel so full that it was not possible to delineate any more, which pleasure was greater than another pleasure. In my entire life, I had never felt my needs were so nicely being taken care of. I had never had such a feeling of being stretched out on a rack and my entire body being pulled apart by pleasure.
But I had to remember the purpose of our getting together. It was not just for my enjoyment alone: the reasons were multifaceted. Much as I hated to leave such a plateau of pleasure, I knew it was not only necessary, but that there were other plateaus equally pleasurable, and even more important.
"You're giving me too much excitement, you two, are," I said, my breathless quality indicating the degree of sexuality my children had taken me to. "How do you think I can stand it, with you both doing me so good? You're going to have to stop, now. You're going to have to stop sucking on my breasts. You're going to have to stop making me so excited between my legs. We have other things we have to do."
Mark didn't seem to mind as much as Billie, and he was the first to release my breast, to stop sucking on it.
"Can I get on top you, Mom?" he asked, his own fast breathing clear evidence of his excitation. "Can I fuck you now, Mom?"
Billie drew her head back from my other breast, looking highly displeased, although her face was flushed to a high level. "You mean you two are going to have sexual intercourse and I just have to watch?"
"Just for a little bit, dear. I want you to see how easily it is for even a big prick to go up a vagina. Then you can be sure it'll be your turn."
"Mom," she said, tense. "Please do something to me, too. Otherwise, I'll lose what I got going. How can he get up me if I'm not excited?"
"I told you, dear. If Mark can't take care of you, I will."
I motioned for Billie to move back and for Mark to get on top of me, feeling abandoned myself when they were no longer providing my cunt with their touches. But the lack I felt only lasted a minute. Mark quickly moved his body over my thigh and his body pressed against mine, his hand on his stalk already pressing it against my quim.
"She can't see if you do it that way, Mark. Move off the bed. Let me slide my rump to the edge. You stand up and put it into me. Let Billie see how you can do that."
Billie moved down near the edge of the bed when I did, and Mark quickly scrambled to his feet, his hard rod, throbbing as it stretched out in front of him. I spread my legs, letting them rest against the side of the bed while Mark clasped his rod in his hand and bent his knees so he could get it into me. Billie watched, wide-eyed as he pressed his rod to my quim. With a push that could hardly be called gentle, he rammed it into me, his thick width splitting me. There was nothing quite like having a handsome son ram his rod into his mother. He pressed it into me all the way to the hilt with three steady thrusts, then waited, mustering energy for additional slams.
"You see, Billie? You see how easy it is."
"It doesn't hurt?"
"It hurts good, Billie. When he rams it in, all you have to do is to relax and go with it. You'll feel it hurt, but if you relax, you'll only begin to feel how good it is. Think you could do that now?"
"Jesus, Mom, I don't know. I want to do what you want me to do, but I'd feel much better if I could see the whole thing happen from start to finish. It'd be much better if I could see Mark and you having an orgasm."
Billie looked tense, and I stretched my hand so I could touch her long, fine hair. "Honey, he can't come in me and come in you, too."
"I know that, Mom. But I'm not sure it would be a good idea for him to come in me at all. Won't that make me pregnant?"
It was the first time I realized that Billie was not on the pill. I should have known that my daughter, being a lesbian, would not find that necessary. I found it strange that I would think that just because I did took pills every day, that all women did. I kept taking them even after Justin left home and William went to Alaska. The little ritual of taking birth-control pills was interwoven into the hope that by doing so, I would get the reward of having my sexual needs satisfied. If I was offered the opportunity, I didn't want a little thing like fear of pregnancy to prevent me from having sex. No doubt, that was a significant factor in my so readily going to bed with Mark, bringing myself to my present situation.
My own desire to see my children get together, to rid myself of my own guilt, and to protect myself had made me blind to certain realizations and responsibilities. And now, along with my excitation, another emergence of guilt entered in.
How could I have been so foolish as to not take care of the matter of Billie's protection? What if, under my guidance and instruction, Billie and Mark had had sexual intercourse and as a result, my own daughter had gotten pregnant by my own son? How could that be explained to Justin?
"Well, won't it, Mom?" Billie asked again.
"You just watch Mark and me, Billie. I'll get you some birth control pills and you can start taking them so we won't run into this problem again. Let's make it easier, Mark. Lie across me, honey."
"Thank God for small favors," he said as he began pushing me up on the bed again with the strong thrusts of his body. I could not say I was disappointed in the turn of events. Mark's penis in me was pleasing me and I would have hated to have him take it out. After we had finished, we could both take care of Billie, if we had the energy. The main thing was for her to see it was possible for a man and a woman to have sexual intercourse and for both of them to enjoy it. Although I knew Billie was watching with great interest, it was not difficult to forget she was even there, with Mark becoming more insistent in his thrusts and plunges.
With his attention focused only on me and with his strong sexual drive, with his strong competitive drive, he was going all out to show Billie how much he could excite his mother. But it was his intensity, more than anything else, that helped me to forget all else.
He had pushed me back on the bed with the mere force of his rod that was slamming into me with a heavy thump with each ram. He was moving as if he wanted to split me right apart and I was enjoying every minute of it. When he had me pushed back on the spread by some three feet, he pushed my legs right apart and rotated his gourd, grinding it into my clitoris.
"You'll like it too, Billie, when you feel a rod against your clit, when you feel it grinding against you like I'm doing to Mom. Oh, will you like that."
"I hope so," Billie commented, "she sure looks like she's enjoying it."
"Oh, Mark," I moaned, rocking my buttocks, arching so I could feel more of his heat in my crack. "Oh, it feels so good when you fuck me. Oh, it is so fine."
"Get up on her, Billie. Let her eat you while I'm doing this." Mark implored. "Then you'll be getting yours, too."
It didn't matter to me, not the way Mark was so nicely splitting me, not the way he forced my crack open each time he rammed me, not the way my clit felt when he rocked his prick base and abdomen against it. Nothing could matter now, with the way I felt, pinioned my own passion.
When my own daughter straddled my head and began to lower her sexual portions to my mouth, I was more than happy to give her that pleasure. Feeling her membranes juice my face as she slid across it was a welcome bath and it seemed only appropriate that the sexuality Mark was causing in me be immediately transferred to my daughter. It gave me a special pleasure to know that the tongue pushing into her crack would cause her to move so more of her was available to me. I did not mind the taste; it was clean and pleasant, and I found myself enjoying sliding my tongue into the crevice of her crack, and to find her little hard clit button and to begin sucking on that.
Once it was drawn into my mouth, between my teeth, I could suck on it more easily and I found myself enjoying that fully as much as Mark's prick driving so deep into me. Once he was in all the way, he made certain that he rotated it well, that he nicely rocked against my own clit, before his wide cock was drawn out of my vagina several inches for another deep ram.
"Oh, Mother," Billie moaned. "That feels so good, your mouth on me. Oh, Mother, you just don't know...."
But I did know.
I knew, from when she did me, how nice it felt to have a soft, wet tongue sliding across crack wetness, sucking on slit and clit. I knew exactly what she was feeling.. . .
The more Mark rammed me, the more I sucked, licked and lapped at Billie. His thick rod made me feel full each time he was deep inside me and empty and wanting when he pulled it back out of me. He was enjoying tantalizing me, taking it all the way out, pressing it against my clit, sliding it again down my crack and pushing it back into me as if he was filling me for the first time. My legs were spread as wide as it was possible for them to go. My hands were on the inside of Billie's thighs, helping to rotate her body so her cunt was squashed against my face one moment and lifted the other so I could breathe more easily.
"Looks like she's about ready, Mark," she said in a low, husky voice.
"In just a little bit," Mark grunted as his penis slipped up me again and I felt that wonderful fullness deep inside me. This time, I did not want him to leave me and I clasped my legs around his rear, forcing him to stay. Now when he moved back, I move with him and the movement gave my daughter more satisfaction.
"Oh, Mother," she squealed. "That feels even better. That makes me feel like I could come at any moment. Mother, Mother, Mother!"
The excited tone in her voice encouraged me to lap at her with more intensity and it felt to me as if the three of us were permanently connected-my legs around Mark's rear, his prick deep inside me, my mouth on Billie's cunt, sucking her right into ecstasy.
We were all moving on the bed, now, my entire body being pulled across the smooth satin bedspread when Mark moved his body back, Billie arching each time my head ground into her cunt so I could again start sucking on her clit. How wonderful it felt that mother, daughter, son could have such a nice time together. How wonderful all of it was. How much longer I could hold off with such a spiraling intensity of feeling coursing throughout me, I did not know. But it didn't matter now, with all that was happening simultaneously. I hardly was aware when Billie lightly rubbed the palms of both hands across the nipples of my breasts. I lost track of the number of times Mark pulled back and rammed back into me. I lost awareness of the fear that Billie's slick hot cunt would prevent me from breathing. And I soon forget that I was their mother.
All that I was aware of was the incredible degree of sexuality I had reached, now that everybody was so busy pleasing one another.
And it did not surprise me at all when it all happened, when Mark's rams increased in intensity, when his grunts and groans came so fast and furiously I knew it was nearly time for him. It did not surprise me when Billie squashed her cunt down on me so hard it seemed like there was nothing else in life but my face sunk into her crack, and I knew she was ready, too. Her fingers had dug into the flesh of my breasts, as if to signal she had lost control of herself. And as for myself?
My own throbbing clitoris was a near-match for the deeper, stronger vaginal clutch to Mark's penis, which was grinding in and out of me. If I could have, I would have split my body right in two, if only he could then give me more of that feeling. I quickened my sucks to Billie's clit, and her legs spread wider as she felt me lock into that throbbing portion as if I was never going to let go. Her legs spread wider and wider again before I heard the evidence that indicated her orgasm had started.
"Oh, Christ, Mark, Mother, oh, God, you can't imagine..."
"Oh, Sis, watch me come, too," Mark shouted as his semen exploded in short bursts inside me, warming me, and making his slides into me ever so much easier.
Their orgasms triggered my own. I opened my mouth as wide as I could, felt more of Billie's membranes filling it. Between my legs, deep inside my vagina, my own orgasm started, my vaginal muscles contracting and dilating onto Mark's penis, my own clitoris feeling as if it had exploded and was rapidly, with each additional throb, subsiding into a feeling of total relaxation and peace.
Billie rolled over on the bed, lying on her left side, looking at me. Mark slipped his penis out from my vagina and sat on the side of the bed, catching his breath. I reached out and touched both of them, their warm bodies feeling good to my hands.
"That was wonderful," I told them.
"Sure was," Mark agreed.
"Mom, you made me very happy, doing that to me," Billie said.
"I'm glad," I answered. "I liked it, too."
Lying on the bed, fully relaxed, my two children equally comfortable and pleased, gave me a very good feeling. It was the first time we had all had an experience that would forever unite us. There was none of the tension I had been experiencing throughout the previous week. There was something to the touches of body to body that had accomplished what words never could. It was something I would never forget and I knew neither Billie nor Mark could easily erase it from their minds. As I lay so totally relaxed, one nice thought after another overtaking my mind, there was only one regret I had.... Justin was not there to enjoy seeing his wife and children get so close. And in a very strange way, I felt I had betrayed him by not offering him the warmth and closeness we had achieved.
It would be wonderful if Justin could leave his moral turpitude and self-righteousness behind and to just enjoy his body responses openly. I did not know if it would ever be possible for my separated husband to feel as close to wife and children as I now felt toward Billie and Mark, but if I had one wish that would be granted me, that would be it.
Only because I felt so close to my children did I verbalize my concern.
"Do you think your father could ever feel this relaxed?" I asked no one in particular.
"Sure, if he could relax enough to do what we did." Mark offered.
"I can't even imagine him relaxing," Billie added, stretching her body out on the bed.
"Well, maybe, when he visits us at Christmas, we can get him to relax enough," I said. "Will you help me try to relax him?"
I was relieved when they both agreed they would. How we would go about achieving this rapidly became the topic of conversation. Both Billie and Mark wanted their father back, and I soon realized that was of paramount importance to me as well. I listened to their many suggestions as to how this could be accomplished. The more they talked in such an enthusiastic manner, the more it made me feel that, with their help, it might just be possible. I was certain that once Justin could break through his defenses and let himself go totally, let his own children and wife lead him into enhanced sexual realms, that he could finally give up his facade and begin to respond openly as a human being, perhaps for the first time in his life. I recognized that most of our marital difficulties had been the result of his inability to trust me or anyone else. Always, he was on the lookout for someone to cause him harm. Even when we had been in bed together, it was as if he was only performing for someone who was watching, and that he would be punished if he didn't do it properly.
Now that my children and I had become so close, it was all the more important that their father also become close to us. Alone, I doubted if I could make him feel that good. But with the children helping, I became convinced the project did not have insurmountable odds.
"Both of you think about how we can make your father feel as good. Maybe one of you will know how to do it. That would be the nicest Christmas gift I could get."
"Okay, Mom," Mark said. "I'll try to figure something out."
"So will I, Mom," Billie added. "If Dad could feel this good, we'd be the happiest family in the world."
"And to make sure our Christmas will be the happiest, what do you say we finish up our Christmas shopping as soon as possible? Let's go shopping the first thing in the morning. Then we can figure out just how to get your father to relax."
"Fine by me," Mark said, sliding off the bed and standing to his full six,-foot height. "I know one thing for sure. I'm going to be able to sleep well tonight."
"Me, too," Billie said, following him out of the room. "Wake me up firstrthing, will you, Mom?"
They both stopped at the doorway to say goodnight. After they left, I pulled the covers back and got between the sheets.
I was asleep in minutes, with visions of sugar plums dancing through my dreams.
CHAPTER EIGHT
"There're several things I can't understand, Jill."
"Let's hear them, Justin," I said, watching him remove his tie and start to unbutton his shirt. I let the covers remain at my waist while I leaned against the headboard, wondering what it would feel like to have sex with my husband again, after ten months. To say I was not apprehensive would be telling a lie. Although our Christmas Eve had been totally pleasant, helped by Billie's and Mark's insistence that their father remain overnight, I still found it hard to believe that the plan we had formulated had worked so well. But Justin's presence in my room was proof positive. The fact he was so casually taking off his clothes, just as he had before he had decided to file for divorce, was further evidence of success. The rest of it was up to me, I knew. My children could not help me tonight with Justin.
He put his tie and shirt on the settee and turned towards me as he undid his trousers. He looked as handsome as he ever had. His deep tan made his short hair look whiter. He had kept himself in good shape by the golf he played. Our separation had done much. It made me feel as if I was going to bed with him for the first time.
"I'm just amazed that the family gets along so well. I don't know why, but I expected a lot of tension when I showed up tonight. But everyone was relaxed, and pleasant, How did the family ever get together like this?"
"A lot of things had happened since you went away, dear. I think perhaps the most important is the fact we all have missed you very much. It's not the same with you not here."
"You should have thought about that before you went to bed with William, Jill. I never would have left if it weren't for that."
"You left me for other women, Justin."
I was sorry the minute I said the words. I had intended to keep the evening light and not to let the bitterness I had felt erupt, to harm the possible evening's pleasure. But the words rolled out of me before I had a chance to stop them. For a minute, I was afraid Justin would zip his trousers back up and start to leave. He didn't. Perhaps he had done as much thinking about our marriage as I had during the time we hadn't been together.
"I didn't realize how much that could affect someone until you did it to me," Justin said, stepping out of his trousers, and neatly folding them before he lay them on the settee. "Did you do that to punish me?"
"No, Justin. I did that because I needed to have a man make love to me."
"And what did you do the last ten months, find other men?"
"Did you find other women?"
"No," he admitted, standing to his full height and making the stretch of his silk shorts across his hard-on more obvious. "It just wasn't the same. It took me a long time, but I had to finally admit that I missed you like all hell."
"I'm glad, Justin. I missed you, too."
"So when the kids started in on me tonight, and insisted I stay here, I knew that's what I wanted, too." He walked over to the bed and sat down next to me, reaching his hand up to my forehead and rubbing it. "Been hard on you?"
"More than you'll ever know. I've done a lot of growing while you're had your own place. A lot of changes have happened."
"Tell me about them?"
"Later, Justin," I said, stretching my legs underneath the covers. "Right now, I just want to be with you."
It was obvious he felt as awkward as I. Neither of us seemed to know how to proceed. There was no question, from the noticeable bulge in his shorts, that he wanted it as much as I. I wanted the strength of my husband on me, where I could feel it from head to toes. I wanted his strong, hard body on top of mine, making me feel loved and protected. I wanted his penis in me, wanted him to make my quim feel his hard length pressing against it. I wanted to get close to him again, to feel some of the things I hadn't felt for some time. I only hoped that this time, it would be different. I didn't want him to use my body like a mere receptacle for his semen. I wanted him to make love to me like a woman instead a wife, the mother of his children. It was important that he treat me as if he loved me. Did he?
It was difficult to tell, but the way he was so gently rubbing his hand across my forehead gave me reason to think he was interested in how I felt. When he got up and pulled back the covers, and slipped under them, gently rolling his body until we touched, his movements made me feel that this time, finally, it would be different. His lips soon found mine and even as we kissed, I emitted a sigh of relief. With his tongue, he parted my lips, my teeth and my open mouth signaled my receptiveness. His tongue slipped deep into my mouth and I took it between my teeth and rolled my tongue onto his. He was gentle as he put his arms around my waist, as he snuggled closer to me, his hardness pressing into my thigh. His hands ran the smooth material of my nightgown up and down my leg while his other hand cupped the back of my head. He circled his tongue in my mouth, teasing me into sucking on it. Once I had his tongue firmly lodged between my teeth and lips, I sucked on it, soon swallowing his saliva with my own.
He was not in a hurry, and that made me very happy. He, took his time, first enjoying the suck of my mouth, and then enjoying the feeling of my hand searching the material of his shorts for his staff. I closed the material onto it and rubbed it slightly, noticing it became harder. I drew my fingernails up to the tip, and pressed his shorts material with the pad of my index finger, noting the immediate spread of moisture onto the silk of his shorts.
Although he forced nothing to happen too quickly, he was not passive in the least. Just slow and sure. His own hand was busy between my thighs, lightly separating them and tickling my cunt with his fingernails. The titillation made me more damp, and the slide of my nightgown across my slit made me want more. I arched upward, only a slight bit, and the tickling continued to excite me.
I sucked harder on his tongue but he made me wait, with-drawing it when I became too intense. Yet he rolled slightly over on his back so my hand could provide his penis with greater pleasure. I pumped it rapidly several times, through the material, then slipped my hand through the opening in his shorts where I could feel the skin of his staff directly.
Not once did he stop lightly running his fingernails across the material of my nightgown where he was lightly pressing it into my crack.
I closed my hand onto his naked staff and gripped it into more of an erection, but he stopped me when I started to pump it.
"We have the entire night ahead of us, Jill. It's been nearly a year. We can wait a few minutes longer. I want to find out what you've been doing. You can tell me. It won't stop us from enjoying ourselves."
His fingers pressed against the inside of my labia lips, spreading them so his thumb could slip in-between. He ran his thumb from labia to the other, digging it into my slit, making the sensation there more enhanced. I started to lift my nightgown up, to remove it from being an obstruction, but his hand stopped me.
"Let me do that in my own time, Jill. I just want to drive you absolutely crazy. I want to see my own wife respond with the sensuality I know is in her."
"That sounds wonderful, Justin."
"Well, it took me long enough to figure out that was one of our problems."
I relaxed totally, letting him set the pace. His fingers continued to lightly trickle across my cunt. He pressed the material with the back of his hand into my slit and slowly sunk it deep into me, making both material and the back of his hand wet with my juices.
"To think, all those years, I was stupid enough not to realize that it was all right for a wife and a husband to have passion. Why I thought good sex was only reserved for whores I'll never know."
He was exciting me more than he ever had in his life. Each time he pressed the back of his hand into my quim, I would grip his staff harder. But he seemed to like it even more when I attended to the tip, letting my fingers rub against his glans head until more moisture formed, then letting my fingernails lightly trail down his smooth cockhead until the palm of my hand butted against his prick tip.
He withdrew his hand from between my legs and lifted his hip so he could draw his shorts over his cock and move them down on his legs far enough to kick them off his feet. The heat of his prick was felt against my upper thigh as his hand maneuvered again between my legs and his fingers lightly trailed across my clitoris. He rubbed it lightly, with his thumb while his fingers grasped the material of my nightgown and moved it upward on my legs. It was soon up to my waist, leaving my cunt available to the touch of his skin.
It felt much better when there was no material between my slit and his fingers. It was easier for him to tickle me there and three of his fingers glided across my wet quim, two of them separating my cunt lips more while his middle finger pressed right into the middle of my crack.
His mouth returned to my lips and his tongue was again inside my teeth while his hand pushed my nightgown up to my waist, forcing it to slide over my rump. But as soon as I again started sucking so intensely on his tongue, he drew his handsome head back again.
For many moments, he looked at the expression on my face and it was the first time in as long as I can remember that he had looked directly into my eyes at such close quarters.
"Let's get this off, Jill."
It was un-like any other time I had been with Justin, even during the early years of our marriage. Then, he had been tender as he was now, but he had never been this quietly forceful. He had generally waited until I got excited and my own sexuality had directed the sex we had had. Now he was directing it. He sat up, pulling me up by the shoulders and taking my nightgown off. He ran his hands over my breasts, cupping first the left one and then the right. Then he gently pushed me back on the pillow.
"Tell me about the sex you had when we were apart. Did you masturbate?" he asked, letting his hand slide between my legs again. His fingernails separated my pussy hairs and his middle finger slipped between my vulva, rocking against my clit.
"No, Justin," I answered, opening my legs as his finger slid down my crack to my vagina. "I never once masturbated."
He rubbed three fingers across the opening of my hole and slipped one inside. "Then what did you do, Jill?" he asked. "Certainly such a passionate woman would have to do something for sex."
It was the way he was talking, in such a low, comforting, sensual voice that made me feel I could tell him everything. The soothing touches of his hand, his fingers on my cunt were an additional calming factor. He was seducing me into a sensuality I had not experienced. He was enticing me out of my wariness. He was making me trust him totally. The slow slide of his finger up my vagina, separating my walls, not only made me feel more sexual, more sensual, but also made me feel I could admit anything to him and he would understand totally.
"What did you do without me, Jill? Who did you go to bed with, honey? You can tell me."
"Justin, I'm a little afraid...."
"Don't be, darling. You know I will understand it could not have been otherwise."
He slipped another finger into my vagina and spread the two of them wide. His thumb lightly trailing across my clit and up and down my slit lulled me into a feeling of relaxed sexuality. The gentle press of his penis into my thigh excited me all the more.
"Well, Mark.. . . "
The smooth, relaxed sound of his voice continued. "You went to bed with Mark, Jill? Was 'it good?"
"Oh, yes, Justin. He was very good to me."
"Did he enjoy it, too?"
"Oh, yes, Justin. You know he did."
The touches to my vagina, to my clit, to my crack continued without let-up. So delicate, so light were his touches, they each filled me with maximum titillation, made me want more.
"Did he put his finger up you, Jill?"
"Yes, darling. But not the way you're doing now. No one has made me feel so quietly excited, except maybe Billie, once."
"You went to bed with Billie, too?"
"She wanted me to, Justin."
"It was nice of you to do that. I'm sure she enjoyed it."
"She did. I think it will help her."
"I'm certain it will."
The tonal quality of his voice had not changed once, nor did the stroking he was giving my cunt and my vagina. He was still gently pressing his fingers into my vagina and was rolling his thumb lightly across my clitoris. Regularly, he pressed his cock into my thigh, as if he were searching for an opening that would permit him entry into me.
"Did Mark get on top of you, Jill? Did he press his prick against your vagina?"
His soothing touches lulled me further into a feeling of combined relaxation and maximum sexuality.
"Yes, darling. He did."
"like this?" Justin rolled over on me, supporting his body weight on one elbow while his right hand grasped his hard penis and pushed it up and down my crack. He pressed the tip hard against my clit, then drew it down to my vaginal opening and pressed in there. Under his pressure, the opening separated and his smooth head dug into the membranes.
"like that, Justin."
"Did it hurt you?"
"No, Justin. It felt good, like you're making me feel in my vagina."
"Did he press it into you real hard?" Justin asked, jabbing his prick deeper into me.
"Just like you're doing now, Justin, Mark did, too."
"Oh." He sounded pleased. "Then you and Mark fucked one another. You let him go into you."
"Of course, Justin. You understand, don't you?"
"Of course I understand, Jill. You can rest assured that I understand totally. It feels good, doesn't it, Jill, to have a prick up you? So good it doesn't even matter if it's your son's prick."
"Then it didn't, Justin. But yours was the one I wanted. But you weren't here, Justin."
"So you fucked my son, instead, correct?" He pushed again with his groin and his cock spread my vagina wider, made it feel as if it was going to burn up. I let his thighs force mine apart wider, so he could get further in. He was moving up me, with slow, deliberate thrusts, all of which seemed to be delivered with a great deal of control.
"That's right."
"And he pushed his cock into you and rammed you until you both came?"
"Yes," I whispered, recalling with vivid clarity the sex I had had with my son.
"And you enjoyed it?"
"Oh, yes."
"But not as much as you're enjoying my prick going up you, Jill?"
"Oh, no, Justin. Nothing could feel as good as you do, now."
"That's good to hear, Jill," Justin said, jabbing deeper into my vagina and again moving his elbow up on the bed. Now that he was firmly lodged in me, he supported his weight on both elbows while he rocked his groin, driving his rod deeper in. He held my breasts with his hands, kneading them, rolling his palms against the nipples.
"How many times did you do it with Mark?" he asked, making certain when he rocked, that his groin spread my clitoris. "A lot?"
"Quite a bit," I admitted. "Every time we felt like it."
"Is that why you're all getting along so well now?"
"That took a while."
"I would imagine. When did you have sex with Billie?" His slow, deliberate movements were a match for the tone of his voice. He was slowly rocking up my vagina, making it spread wide, making it feel so good. It was comforting to feel his rod in me, forcing up me so slowly and surely, and it was a true relief that I could tell him what I had done.
"Only when she got home."
"On vacation from school? For her holidays, you mean?"
"Yes, Justin."
He was up me several inches, not once stopping his slow, thrusting movement. Contracting my vaginal muscles made the pressure against his prick greater. Each time I contracted, he closed his eyes while his facial muscles grouped to express the pleasure I was giving" him. I had noticed that each time he asked me a question and I answered him honestly, he had rewarded me with another press of his prick that made me feel so sexual and sensual.
"Did she go down on you?"
"Yes, Justin." He jabbed me again with a nice little thrust with his prick.
"And you went down on her?"
"True," Another, harder jab, slowly spreading my insides.
"Did you and Mark go down on one another?"
"Several times." The reward was greater. Several long, steady upward slams and the grind of his groin into my clit, rocking it into further sensation. The kneading of my breasts were more intensified with the stronger grip of his fingers into the soft flesh.
"And did alt of you get together?"
"It was necessary, Justin. They were fighting."
"I imagine they would be, dear," Justin said, giving me another strong thrust with his prick. "Did Mark fuck Billie then? Did you have them do that?"
"He was too big for her, Justin," I said, preparing for another heavy ram. "She's gay, you know. I got her birth control pills only last week."
"That was nice of you, Jill, to want your daughter to have the experience of being with a man so much you made arrangements so it would be safe for her to fuck her brother. Did they fuck then?"
"They tried, but he was too big for her, still." Several heavy upward thrusts from Justin drove him all the way up me, and he rocked into me, squashing the base of his prick against my clit.
"Is he bigger than me, Jill?"
"Several inches, darling. But nothing feels as good as what you're doing to me."
"I would hope not, Jill. I would at least hope to please you more than my own son." He gripped his hands onto my shoulders, letting his entire body weight rest on me while he delivered several fast, steady rams that made me feel he was as big as Mark. It was difficult not to compare the love-making I had had with my son to what was occurring. Mark's passion had been quicker, faster to erupt. But with Justin, with him taking his time, with the way he was talking so calmly, as if we were both just having a casual conversation, both of us not acknowledging the fact we were fucking one another, created a tension that was incomparable. Feeling his rod slowly slide up me, spreading the insides of my vagina so wide, making them feel as if they were dissolving from the heat of intense, igniting passion, made me shudder.
When he rocked his body back from me, pulling his cock away from my vagina, the emptiness I felt was supreme. The attempt I made to keep him from leaving me by clutching the walls of my vagina tight around his penis was not effective. He still slid it out, only to probe the tip of his rod against my wildly throbbing cunt once again as the process was begun another time, and he rocked his way up me another time until my clit had the pleasurable sensation of being squashed by his warm rod.
He knew how much I liked my clit taken care of and each time he had driven deep into me, he took special care to remain deeply embedded, and to grind his rod against that hard nub that was giving me such delightful throbs. Once I felt his upward slide begin, I made certain I arched my cunt so our contact point would gain me greater pleasure.
"Did you ever think you were doing the wrong thing, by having sex with Mark, Jill?" He pulled my hips toward him, and the grind of his abdomen onto my clit, the pressure in my vagina as he rod pressed downward made me grit my teeth.
"It was very hard on me, Justin. I felt guilty even thinking about it. and I felt guilty after we had done it, too. But I just needed it so badly."
"It wouldn't have happened if I hadn't left you, Jill, I know that. Don't blame yourself. The main thing is that the family has gotten close. That's worth everything. How it happened isn't important." As if to emphasize his statement, he thrust into me three times.
"All I feel badly about is Billie, darling."
I lifted my legs onto his back and clasped them together, forcing his sex deeper into me. He immediately pushed harder, parting my crack with his pubic bone, rocking it against my clit.
"Because she's gay?"
"Yes, Justin. It seems such a waste. She's such a pretty girl." If only some tender man would make love to her...."
"Someone like me?" Justin asked, pushing into me again.
He had said the words I had hoped he would and I clasped my legs harder against his back. The pressure of my legs made the grind far more pleasurable, and I moved my ear, rotating it, feeling him drive deeper into my insides, feeling his rod twitch against my clit. My entire crack was warm, wet, throbbing, the sensual coursing of sexuality apparent.
"Yes, darling. If you would do that to her like you're doing to me right now, I know she wouldn't be frightened. I know she would like it. She loves you, Justin."
"Enough to want me to fuck her?"
"She's told me as much."
"Oh, you've already discussed it?" The rams he was giving me increased in both speed and intensity and he was slamming hard against my cunt. I let my legs part, and lay one more time against the bed, spread wide enough that the feeling; of his tight stomach and abdomen muscles was experienced at the top of my crack. I felt like he was getting further up my vagina, almost as far as Mark had reached.
"Yes, darling. It'll be much better if you do it instead of Mark. She needs an older man."
"I'm certain of that," he said, his own teeth gritting as he slammed into me with all his might.
"And you won't hurt her as much as Mark."
"Because he's so much bigger than I, correct?" The ram he gave me was brutal, hard, and I enjoyed it.
"That doesn't bother you, does it, Justin? That I tell you he's bigger than you?"
"Good heavens, why should that bother me, Jill? That doesn't, but I'll tell you what does." I watched his expression change form one of passion to one of anger. It seemed to me that his face was contorting, even as he continued his strong prick strokes into my vagina. His brown eyes narrowed, and I could hear the grind of his teeth. For a brief moment, he paused, resting his penis in me while he shook his head as if to clear it.
"Tell me, Justin," I said, becoming uneasy.
"I'll tell you, Jill. Right now. I want you to listen closely. What bothers me is that I had some respect for you, as a wife, as a mother. And now I find out my own wife is worse than a whore. Even the whores I know wouldn't fuck their own son, their own daughter. What sort of depravity have you sunk to? Good
Christ, Jill, don't you realize you might have ruined their lives, by what you've done."
"Justin!"
"Don't say anything, Jill. I'm going to fuck you like you deserve to be fucked, as if you're just a common whore with no values at all. Feel this, Jill. Feel what you have done to me!"
Justin went wild, sinking his hands underneath my back, gripping his fingernails into my flesh, scraping the outer layer away as he made me feel he could rip the skin right off my back. He dug into my shoulders, again digging into my flesh, making me fear he would tear the skin. He smashed his mouth into mine, striking his teeth against mine. He pressed his body hard into my breasts, hurting them.
My cunt felt as if it was being split in two as he pulled back as far as he could without leaving my vagina, and using my shoulders as leverage, slammed all the way up me, not just once but many times. It was as if he was trying to kill me with his rod, not make love to me. The slams, the grinds, the hurt was exceptional. The look on his face frightened me when he drew back to watch the effect his heavy driving slams were having on me.
"Feel better, Jill? like that hate you're getting? That represents all the years I had respect for you when I shouldn't have. That shows you what I think of you. Take it all, Jill. Get fucked!"
He was ramming me like he didn't care if I lived through it, as if he would prefer me to die. There was nothing I could do but just lay there, my legs spread wide to either side of my body, my cunt and clit being brutally struck at by both groin and penis. Never had I seen such passion in my own husband, but the passion was at least as much hate as it was sexual. Strangely, I liked the greater intensity of his hard, steady rams that were driving him into an orgasmic frenzy. Strangely, I enjoyed the heavy slams and rams that rocked my entire body upward on the bed.
He lifted me into the air and with a final, heavy thrust with his penis drove my head right into the headboard, not once, not even twice, but many times. I was afraid I might lose consciousness.
"Justin, stop!" I screamed.
But he didn't stop, he just kept slamming at me, knocking my head against the wood, making me feel I might pass out at any moment. I felt his fingernails dig into my breasts, and another slam to both head and cunt. Then, looking as if he could kill me, his head snapped back, his eyes closed, his teeth gritted another time, and I could feel the strong, heavy spurts of his semen striking against the walls of my vagina.
"Oh, oh, oh," he gasped. I saw the roll of his eyes, I saw the grotesque expression on his face relax, and felt his full body weight as he collapsed across my chest, still digging his fingernails into me.
In spite of the fact, I did not have my orgasm, I felt lucky it was over.
It was difficult to breathe and I was glad when he took his penis out of me and got to his feet. His orgasm had not quelled his anger, but his energy was dissipated.
"I'm going to sleep downstairs, Jill. I'm going to have to figure out what to do with the children you've ruined. I may be awake all night long, but it'll be worth it."
He rapidly put on his clothes and stormed out of the room, leaving me quaking in the stillness of the bedroom. The hot feeling between my legs remained, and I did not even think twice about turning over and letting my own hand finish what Justin hadn't. My orgasm calmed me, permitting me to fall into the oblivion sleep offered.
CHAPTER NINE
"Aren't you going to open your presents?"
Mark was impatient as he sat on the. living room carpet, leaning against the chair his father was sitting in so stiffly. So far, Justin had only watched everyone else open their presents. He hardly smiled at the enthusiasm Billie and Mark had expressed when they had opened their gifts. He seemed more intent on feeding the fire with more Christmas wrappings than he was on watching his family enjoy their Christmas. He crossed his legs, pulling his brown wool robe tight across his body.
"I'm going to wait, Mark. There're some things I have to discuss with you, first."
"Oh, no, Dad," Billie moaned. "You're not going to ruin our Christmas, are you?"
"There's something more important to discuss. It needs immediate attention." The deliberate tone in his voice was a commanding one and the two children quickly sensed the tension. Sitting across from him, on the comfortable blue couch next to Billie, I myself was highly apprehensive. Although I had spent the majority of my adult years living with Justin, he was still as unpredictable as he had been the first year I had known him. Aware as to how angry he had been the night before, I could not even imagine what he was going to tell the children, or what he might do to me. I had opened my presents automatically, like a robot might, I had enthused over them, but all the time my mind had been fast-racing, trying to anticipate what Justin would do with the knowledge I had given him the night before. I was relieved that I would soon know what he planned to do.
"Your mother told me something last night that upset me a great deal," he started, pausing while he glanced first at Mark and then at Billie. "She told me you've all had sex together. That's not right."
I watched the reactions of my two children. Mark shifted uneasily on his rear, locking his arms around his knees. He was not pleased at the prospect of getting a lecture from his father on Christmas day. Billie, sitting beside me, put her hand on my robe, gripping my knee tightly, as if she was giving me support. It was appreciated. I leaned back on the couch, taking a deep breath and letting the air out slowly.
Now that he had everyone's full attention, Justin rose to the occasion, looking as if he was about to give a speech.
"It's not right for mother and daughter and son to have sex with one another. I don't blame you children, because I know your mother led you to it, but I want you to know I don't approve of any of it. I feel strongly I should turn your mother in to the authorities."
Billie moved forward on the couch, speaking in an excited tone. "She just wanted the family to be close, Father. That's why she did it."
"Billie," Justin's heavy voice held a threatening tone.
"Father, I mean that. Our family hasn't been close for as long as I can remember. That's what isn't right."
"Billie!" Justin's voice was harsh, rasping. This time, however, it did not stop my daughter. She got to her feet, shaking as the words exploded forth.
"No, Father, you listen to me, just this once. You've always been so prim and proper, always doing the right thing, haven't you? That's been your main goal in life, to do the right thing. Well, listen to me. While you've been so busy doing the 'right' thing, you haven't even paid attention to the family. I used to hate to even come home, just 'cause I couldn't stand the tension."
Billie's words brought her father to his feet. Mark tightened the tie to his bathrobe, and moved closer to the fire, watching his sister have her confrontation. Justin had become more angry with each of her words and he looked as if he wouldn't have minded at all turning her across his knees and whamming the daylights out of her.
"It's not right, Billie," he screamed, raising his fist in the air.
"So because you think it's not right. you're going to destroy the whole family, right, Dad?
Think about that a minute. I want you to know something. Don't blame Mom. We knew what we were doing. We were willing to do anything to feel close to one another, even have sex together. What's so bad about wanting to be close to one another?"
"There's a right way and a wrong way, Billie," Justin said, squaring his shoulders. "That way was wrong. The ends don't justify the means."
"Bullshit, Dad. It's the first time I ever felt that close to Mom and Mark in as long as I can remember. That's what's important to me. I don't care how it came about. And what about you, Father? You're so prim and proper you can't get close to anyone, even the whores you go to bed with!"
"Billie!" Justin exclaimed. "You're talking to your father!"
"You're right," Billie screamed. "I'm talking to a father who's so rigid he doesn't even know how to talk to his own family, a family he doesn't even care about enough to find out what's going through their minds!"
Justin looked confused and glanced at me as if I would give him support. I was both pleased and amazed at Billie's outburst, and was also surprised when Mark got to his feet and walked over to his father, speaking like a man.
"Billie's right, Dad. Most important thing is to have a family that loves one another. Don't have that, you don't have a family, just shells of human beings with no guts at all. Mom gave us the feeling for one another, and for ourselves, too. We'd like to have you as a member of the family, too, Dad."
Justin was clearly upset and shocked as he sat down heavily in the chair, looking up at his son with respect.
"But that's not right, Mark."
"That's your opinion. Father. It's not mine. I agree with Billie. What isn't right is our family. We've come together at the dinner table for years, and no one's ever leveled with one another. It's made all of us less than we could have been. Far as I'm concerned, Mom did the right thing. At least she tried."
"That's right, Dad," Billie added, walking over to her father's chair and sitting on the arm. She put her hand on his head, and kissed his forehead. "Worse things than having a family get together sexually. It's worse not to get together at all. Want to join the family?"
"I can't, Billie. It's not right. I'm going to get custody of you children and I'm going to teach you proper morals."
"Dad, come on," Mark said, putting his hands on his hips and standing in front of his father. "We don't want the family to split up. We want it to be close, like it could be."
"Yeah," Billie concurred, kicking her red robe in front of her as she returned to the couch. "Besides, you can't get custody of me! I'm over eighteen. I can choose which parent I want to be with. I'm not a little girl anymore, Dad."
"And what do you think I'm going to do when I'm eighteen, Dad? Come home to you and let you fill me with nonsense? No way. You'd never even see me."
Justin watched his son walk back over to the fireplace and rest his arm on the mantle. He was, for the first time, at a total loss for words. I Was certain he had spend much of the night planning his little speech, but he had not anticipated the strong reactions of his children. No doubt he thought he would have them cowering with his gruff voice and his right and wrong approach. No doubt he thought he could turn the children against me. He glanced at Billie, who had sat down beside me on the couch, then he looked at me.
"I'm telling all of you, what you did is not right."
The support my children had given me gave me additional strength. I felt up to confronting Justin's strong moralistic viewpoints.
"Does it really matter, Justin, whether if it's right or wrong?"
"God, Jill," Justin said rubbing his eyes with his palms. "I just can't believe you could say that. Don't you realize the children are your responsibility? Is that the way to discharge your responsibility?"
"You heard what they said, Justin."
"Yeah, and any judge in the country would put you right in prison for what you did with them."
Mark turned, again striding over to the side of his father's chair.
"Let me tell you something else, Dad. No judge in this country's going to know anything about it if you keep your mouth shut. And I'll tell you something else, too. You never were very warm to Mom, and you never had time for your children, either. All I ever heard from you was how I coulda done better than I was doing. Didn't you ever wonder why I never told you much of anything?"
I watched my husband evade his son's open glance as he clasped his hands and rested his elbows on the chair arms while he looked like he was pondering Mark's words. He stretched his long legs in front of him as he leaned back in the chair, "Have you got something to add, Billie?"
Her voice was softer, quieter when she spoke. "I agree with Mark, Dad. Maybe it's hard for you to understand, what we did. But you just don't know how horrible it is to have a family and not be able to communicate with them. Well, we've communicated. We did it by having sex. Now we feel closer. And I'm not sorry at all, for anything. The only thing I'm sorry about is that you won't join the family you fathered."
Mark joined Billie and me on the couch. "So what's it going to be, Dad? You going to make things horrible for us because you won't give up your antiquated moral code or are you going to become a part of the family?"
"I'm going to have to think this over. What do you say we have breakfast?"
"Good idea," Billie said, jumping to her feet. "Let's all help Mom fix it. Okay, Mark?"
"Fine with me," Mark said, first getting to his feet and then helping me rise from the couch. "And how about you, Dad? You going to join us?"
I followed Mark and Billie into the kitchen and started preparing breakfast, helped by my children. A few minutes later, Justin entered, looking not the least bit sheepish. But he won the admiration of Billie and Mark when he started to set the breakfast table.
"Glad to have you aboard, Dad," Mark said, putting his arm around Justin's shoulders. "I think you'll find we're not half as bad as you think."
Billie planted a kiss right on his lips after throwing her arms around his neck, and pulling herself up the front of his body. "Thanks, Dad," she said simply, then slid back to the floor and took the pot of coffee into the breakfast room.
I listened to son, daughter and father talk while they sat at the breakfast room table and I fixed bacon and eggs. They were talking openly, honestly. Mark filled his father in on what had happened in the family the past months. "You see, it was like there was a wall up between all of us. We all felt uncomfortable around one another. But somehow, having sex broke down that wall, Dad. It's not that we're sex maniacs and tripping off on incest. It's just that we needed something to break down the barriers between us. Sex did."
"Sure did," Billie added. "That's why I know it wasn't a bad thing, Dad, to do that."
By the time I had the food on the table, even Justin was joining the conversation. He was no longer acting, playing the part of a father. Somehow, during the talk with his son and daughter, he had become a real father, sounding concerned and interested in what his children were expressing. I joined them, sitting in the chair opposite Justin's watching him turn his attention to Billie.
"What I don't understand, is this business I hear about your being a lesbian. What's the matter with men?"
Billie's face reddened as she looked down at her plate. Then she shrugged her shoulders.
"That's simple to explain, Dad," Mark offered. "You remember what you told her about guys? About how they're only interested in getting their rocks off? About how they can never be trusted? Dad, I hate to say this, but you led Billie right down the primrose path into homosexuality. And maybe you're the one who has to lead her back toward losing her fear of men."
Mark spoke his words clearly and with forth-rightness. He was talking to his father as if they were no longer son and father, but were equals.
"You're asking quite a bit of me, Mark," Justin said, sipping his coffee.
"Up to you, Dad. But if you don't do something about it don't blame her for paying attention to what you told her."
"Get your father some more coffee, Billie," I said, watching her immediately get to her feet and take his cup to the kitchen, returning with it a minute later. Justin thanked her, then added two heaping teaspoonfuls of sugar, which he stirred longer than usual. All of us, Billie, Mark and I, watched Justin, each of us wondering if he was, indeed, going to return to the family fold, under the stipulations we had presented to him. He looked as if he was giving strong consideration to the two courses of action open to him. With his children so strongly stating their wishes, I could imagine the conflict he was undergoing. He could give up his wife, I knew, without great difficulty. But the prospect of losing the affection of his children was weighing heavily on him. He had always taken great pride in the respect of his children had shown him, and the tack they had taken was obviously presenting him with a conflict that was being felt deep in his being. I, myself, did not know what he would decide to do, but I had my hopes.
The expression on his face was resolute when he met our stares.
"All right," he said, nodding. "I'll be the father you want me to be. But I have my own request that must be met. None of you are ever to tell anybody, at any time, what I've done with you, or to you. Secondly, I want you to realize
I'm going against everything I believe in. So I may need a little bit of help from all of you."
The grins spreading across the faces of Billie and Mark were immediate.
"Dad, that's great!" Mark exclaimed. "You're wonderful!" Billie enthused. I smiled, totally relieved. It would be all right after all. I would have my husband back and we could start a new life. The past would fall away, and with it, our resentments and bitterness would dissolve. Billie would have the experience of having sex with a man, and she could then make her decision about her sexuality with more alternatives open to her. And Mark would finally be on equal terms with his own father, able to talk to him man to man as well as son to dad.
We left the dishes on the table when we all went up to the master bedroom. Since no one knew precisely how to proceed, I was the one who gave the directives.
"Billie, you get on the bed. Your father will take care of you, first. No, don't sit down on the settee, Mark. We're all going to help."
Billie was pleased at getting the total focus of family attention, but she also had her apprehensions. Justin was equally uneasy, as he watched his daughter slide across the bedspread, and lie on her back, her hands cupping her head.
"Okay, Dad. I'm ready any time you are, I think."
Justin turned first to Mark and then to me, as if looking for support and encouragement.
"Well, sit on the bed beside your daughter, Justin," I said. "Not much you can do with her lying down and you standing by the side of the bed."
Justin sat down on the side of the bed, still looking uneasy.
"Help him out, Mark. Break the ice for him."
Mark moved over to the bed, sitting to Billie's right and began rubbing her red velvet robe across her stomach. "Unzip her gown, Dad. Make her feel good."
I watched Mark's hand push the velvet cloth between Billie's legs, gently rubbing her groin area while Justin slipped the zipper down Billie's front. Billie watched the zipper separate, lifting her shoulders when her father's hands pulled the gown toward her waist. Justin was engrossed in what he was doing. He stared at the wool pajama material covering his daughter's breasts, then started to unbutton the front as if he was seeking some forbidden treasure. He spread the material across her chest, swallowing hard when he saw her full beauties barely spreading across her chest. I knew he liked nice, young: breasts and I was certain that the sight he beheld was beginning to generate his own excitement.
"Like them, Dad?" Billie asked, sure of his response.
"They're beautiful, darling," her father answered, lightly trailing his fingers across the white skin, cupping them with his hand and studying their rosy points.
Billie spread her legs while Mark continued rubbing. She liked the feeling and was not the least bit self-conscious when her brother pulled her gown off her. He sunk his hand into her crack, and she spread her legs more. Then he slipped her pajama bottoms off her.
Justin seemed enthralled with Billie's breasts, and continued to roll the flesh in his hands, pressing his thumbs into her nipples.
"That all you're interested in, is breasts, Dad?" Billie asked. "Isn't there anything else I have that you like?"
Billie's voice contained a sensuous quality and she was not the least bit ashamed of being nude. She watched her father's eyes trail down her stomach, noticed the way he licked his lips when he saw his son's hand slipping up and down his daughter's snatch. He could see that she was damp, wet, excited and he let his robe fall from his shoulders.
"You're lovely, Billie. No man alive that wouldn't feel interested in you, that wouldn't want you."
"You're the man I want to want me, now."
Justin was getting excited. The material of his pajamas, tight across his groin, showed the stiffness that had erupted underneath the material. He unbuttoned his pajama tops, let them slide off his shoulders as he continued to watch his son generate more excitement in his daughter, by the quickening of the movements of his hand that was pressed tightly against her cunt, rocking it Mark had followed his father's lead and his own pajamas soon slipped off his shoulders, while his left hand undid the tie at his middle. The pajamas separated, showing his lush forest of dark hairs.
Seeing that made me remember, made me recall how his thickness had filled me so many times. I took off my own robe, stepping out of the material when it clustered around my feet. Justin did not even look at my nudity, so intent was he on feeling Billie's smooth, white skin. Between my legs, I felt my own aching that needed attention and I joined them on the bed. Still, Justin did not even look at me, yet I know it upset him when I bent over and took my daughter's left breast in my mouth. Mark did not want me to feel left out, and I soon felt his other hand giving my cunt pleasure similar to Billie's. Billie was running her hand through my hair, pressing me harder into her breast.
It did not surprise me when Justin slipped his pajamas off, exhibiting his hardened prick. I knew once that had happened, the ice was fully broken. He was no longer wondering if we would compare the size of his rod to Mark's larger endowment.
"Take care of your mother, Mark," Justin said, pushing his son's hand away from Billie's snatch. "I want to make sure Billie is taken care of right."
"Okay, Dad," Mark said, watching his father move between his sister's legs. I drew my head back from Billie's breast so I could watch Justin. My son's two thumbs spread my vulva and his fingers slid up the inside of my cunt lips, pressing them open wide, while my husband got to his knees in front of Billie, sucking his breath in as his hands separated the flesh protecting her sex. Billie's fingers gripped my scalp as Justin's tongue rolled over her clit.
"Oh, Father," she moaned. "Oh, that's nice."
Justin was pleased at hearing her response and he seemed to enjoy running his tongue up and down her slit, pressing it flat against her crack, forcing her lips to open wider. Billie lifted her legs into the air, rolling her groin upward, making all of her quim available to the swipes of Justin's tongue. My husband, pleased at her excitement, continued his lapping; and licking, holding her hips stationary while his fingers found his daughter's hole and he pressed into it.
"Oh, Father, that's wonderful!"
Mark had slipped his pajamas down and his large rod sprung into view. As soon as I saw it, I wanted it in me, but Justin was setting the pace for our family get-together, and Mark followed his lead, by falling on his knees to the floor and putting his tongue to my crack. I rubbed my daughter's breast and kissed her, becoming more intrigued when her tongue pressed into my mouth. I sucked it between my teeth, touching my tongue to hers in similar rhythm to the warm wetness that was slipping so nicely across my slit. From the intensity with which my daughter was pressing her tongue into my mouth, I knew she was experiencing excitement equal to mine from her father's tongue. I kept my buttocks against the bed, opening my legs for my son's slick tongue, as I rotated my waist and put my arms around my daughter. Her breasts pressed into mine as her own hands tickled my back and she clutched me to her. The warmth of her breasts rubbing against mine, penetrated me. The feel of her tongue on me, excited me. Mark's long, wonderful swipes to my cunt were a supreme enhancement. I could almost determine what her father was doing to Billy, by the way her tongue responded in my mouth. One minute she would slide her tongue across mine, and I knew her father was gliding across her slit. Soon, she was pressing the tip of her tongue against mine, and I was certain she was experiencing her father's tongue pressing into her mound, against her clit. And when she closed her lips and teeth tight across my tongue, sucking it into her mouth, I sensed that Justin was sucking on her mound with equal intensity.
And not once did my son ever let up. He was rolling his wet warmth around the edges of my mound while his fingers pressed my labia apart wide enough to make me know my clit was exposed, in all its throbbing glory. His tongue made several circular passes, each time more closely approaching the center of my excitement. His fingers probed the membranes of my crack, tickling them, rubbing them, finally finding the opening of my vagina and pressing his fingers into it.
And always, was the warmth of my daughter's mouth on mine, our tongues playing against one another's, as our breasts continued to provide one another with pleasure.
But it felt even better, when Billie drew her mouth away from mine and began to hold my breast in her hands. "Oh, Mom," she said, her face flushed. "It feels so good. It's so nice."
I watched her mouth close onto the nipple of my breast and enjoyed the wonderful sucking she gave me, tugging at the nipple with her teeth, then sliding her tongue across the tip, finally closing Tier lips onto the entire nipple and rocking her tongue against the tip. I put my left hand around her and rolled onto my back, relaxing to the sensuality that was simultaneously being given to my slit and my breast. Mark's mouth had closed entirely over the mound that was giving me so much additional pleasure, and it would not have surprised me if he tongued me right into orgasm.
Justin's long arms stretched up Billie's body. Finding her breasts, he began to roll the flesh between his fingers, thumbs on her hard nipples, rubbing them into great erection. He was moving up on the bed, rapidly kissing Billie's stomach as he made his way up.
He was breathing hard, as excited as I had ever seen him, his face covered with her juices from forehead to chin.
"Billie, baby, honey. I want to get in you. That all right, honey?"
She slowly removed her mouth from my breast, and looked at her father.
"Sure, Dad. Go ahead. But just remember, it's a first for me."
Justin's hands were shaking as he held the staff of his rod in his right hand and moved closer in between Billie's thighs. All his attention was focused right between her legs as he so delicately placed his cock tip against his daughter's crack and closed his eyes, gasping, as he slid his cock the full length of Billie's crack. My daughter was watching as intently as I as Justin pushed his rod against her hole. It did not bother me at all when my husband's smooth rod slipped into my daughter's vagina. Mark's expert mouthing made me feel no lack and I was willing that my daughter experience the penis that had plummeted me so many times to start her very existence. Watching Justin grunt and groan as he pushed it into her with gentle, deliberation jabs made me very happy. Billie was not fighting it. She was watching it slowly sink into her. She sucked in her breath as my husband's thickness spread her vagina, making it feel full.
"Oh," she moaned. "Oh, Dad. It is good, what you're doing, you're making me feel so nice by doing that. It doesn't hurt, Dad. It doesn't, at all. Mom, it feels wonderful. That all right, it feels so good to me?"
"That's fine with me darling. I want you to like it, to love it, like I did so many times."
"Billie, let me know if it gets too much for you, baby. I don't want to hurt you. Let me know and I'll stop if I'm too much for you." Justin's entire focus of attention was on Billie's face, watching her expression as he jabbed deeper into her. He pushed her further up on the bed and I could see his rod splitting her crack as he edged further up her. Billie grabbed my wrist, digging her fingernails into it as her father got deeper into her. I knew she was enjoying it, I knew she was loving it, I also knew she was the slightest bit frightened.
"That's all right, Billie," I said. "Just relax and let your dad take care of you. Let him show you how good a man can make a woman feel."
Billie rocked her groin upward, placing her feet on the side of the bed, letting her bent knees lower to touch the mattress. Mark kept his fingers driving into my vagina as he got to his feet so he, too, could watch Billie's reactions. Justin was totally intent on what he was doing. All of the eyes watching him so closely did not make him hesitate. He was going up Billie as gently as he could, pressing up her as slowly as he could. Beads of perspiration broke out on his forehead, as his heavy breathing continued.
He was in her only by two inches. Each time he gained more headway, he stopped, carefully watching the expression on Billie's face, before he continued. His large, heavily-lined rod was throbbing as it slowly disappeared into Billie's depths. Billie was taking it in without a grimace and seemed to enjoy it immensely. Occasionally, she would arch, then watch her father's cock slip deeper into her. She soon realized that her own movements could facilitate his entry, and she was helping her father get deeper into her by rotating her groin slowly from left to right, arching it, and circling it. Justin kept his forward progress slow, although it was apparent he would have liked to just ram it right into her. He sensed the importance of what was occurring, fully as much as Mark and I.
Mark's larger rod was throbbing, lifting slightly into the air and lowering as if he was contracting his muscles. I am sure he would have liked it in me, but he didn't seem to want to make a move that would upset what was happening with Billie and her father. He was hardly breathing, as he squinted, watching Justin's rod go in another inch. Although Mark's finger was still in me, I was not upset that he was not making any movements. I, too, knew the importance of father and daughter's intercourse, and the intense focus of my attention on them, made it unnecessary for me to have the same pleasure at that time.
It seemed like years before Justin slid his rod all the way into Billie. All of us relaxed, expelling our breaths finally. Justin's progress had been hard. It had been difficult for him to utilize such masterful control. Once he was all the way in, he waited, taking many deep breaths, resting his weight on hands placed to either side of Billie's waist, and watching the way he had spread his daughter so wide.
"That doesn't hurt, Billie?"
"No, Dad," Billie sighed. "No, it doesn't. It feels good, though."
"To me, too."
Mark eased down on the side of the bed, next to me and we kept watching as Justin pulled his rod slightly out of Billie, hardly an inch, and then slowly eased it back into her. He pressed his abdomen hard against her groin, rocking her upward before he relaxed and moved back. The base of his cock appeared again before he gently rocked it back into her. Once certain, he was pleasing her, he withdrew it an additional inch. Her juices made its base glisten as two inches of it left her body. Justin waited before he eased it back into her, then withdrew it to the same length, waited a moment, then rocked it back into her.
Billie was finally relaxing. No longer were the muscles of her thigh rigid. She spread lazily and the sensuous smile she exhibited was full evidence that she was enjoying it far more than I thought she would; watching her father's rod leave her body and listening to the squishing sound as he drove it back into her. We were all listening. It was like music to my ears. My own husband was giving my own daughter pleasure. He was taking care of the paranoia he had tapped in his daughter's mind. He was making her realize how fine sex could be with a man.
I had never seen Justin be so gentle, not during sex. He continued his slow, deliberate movements, letting his rod slide out from her vagina, waiting, before he made his plunge, always checking Billie for her reactions. Only when he knew it would be all right, did he become more energetic Only when Billie started arching her cunt up into the air, indicating she was ready, did Justin slam back in. unafraid that he would hurt her, knowing full well that she was launched into heterosexual enjoyment, he sensed it was no longer necessary to be so careful. He pulled his rod out of her totally, let the tip of it slide across her snatch, drinking its juices before he pressed it hard against her and slipped again into her vaginal opening. Then he rammed it, striking hard against her spread pussy, grinding the base of his rod against her clit. His thumb took over the task of providing her clitoris with pleasure, lightly rubbing it as he pulled his rod out several inches and with the full weight of his body behind him, jammed it into her again, his groin forcing his thumb to press hard against her clit.
I did not want to say a thing, nor, apparently, did Mark. I was afraid the slightest word would upset the sexual rhythm between my daughter and her father. I did not want to slant her attention elsewhere.
I merely watched and enjoyed. liked seeing my husband's slickened gourd pull back several inches and slam back in, rocking my daughter's body upward on the bed. Justin was performing better than even I thought he could, timing his withdrawals and thrusts perfectly, not once breaking his rhythm, not once causing Billie to tense. My daughter was so relaxed, her excitement could reach its fullest intensity. The next time Justin's rod ground against her groin, she clasped her legs around his rear. Now when Justin tried to pull back, he pulled his daughter back with him. He fell across her body, ramming heavily into her, forcing her to thrash her head from one side of the bed to the other. The way she arched up against his prick, still clutching at his rear with her ankle-locked legs, she did not look like it was her first time. The way she gritted her teeth, the look on her face, the writhing of her body indicated she was feeling passion envelop her to the prime degree.
Justin was no longer controlling his thrusts, nor was it necessary. The way Billie locked onto his mouth when Justin lay full across her, their lips meeting and meshing, the way Billie threw her arms around her father clutching him against her breasts, was full indication care was no longer necessary. The mattress underneath me rocked with the grinding of their bodies, with the emphatic rams Justin was giving our daughter.
They were both very close to exploding with full enjoyment. Justin put his cheek to Billie's and the gasps escaping through his open mouth as he humped his daughter with incredible fast jabs and slams indicated it would not be much longer. Underneath him, Billie ground her body, gripping her heels into his buttocks, as if she wanted him deeper into her, even more than he was going.
"Father" Billie shouted. "Father, oh, God, Dad." Her voice broke into a whimper as her orgasm began, as her tiny body lifted Justin's larger bulk right into the air. She held him there for a minute, then fell back to the mattress.
Justin's eyes bulged as his jabbing stopped and I knew the feeling of his semen exploding from his body in large, steady spurts was making it impossible for him to make any additional assertive moves, that feelings greater than his conscious mind had taken over. The muscles of his rump contracted with each additional spurt, then they relaxed, as he continued to lay across Billie, his face showing not an ounce of tension.
"You did it, Dad. You made Billie come!" Mark was pleased. So was I.
"Did you like that, Billie?" I asked, gently stroking the short hairs on my husband's head.
"I see why you wanted me to feel that," she answered. "It was something I'll never forget."
She kissed her father an additional time before he rolled off her, looking at the ceiling, touching his now flaccid rod. He cleared his head and sat up, his thigh resting on his ankle.
"That was really something," he said. "Billie, you're so fine to be in."
"Better than your wife?" I asked.
"You're good, too, honey. But it looks like you didn't get taken care of. What's with you, Mark?"
"Billie was more important, this time, Dad. Next time, we'll all enjoy it."
Justin got to his feet, stretching his arms above his head, before he bent over to pick up his robe, and put it on.
"Now that I'm a member of the family, what do you say, we all go downstairs so I can open my presents?" His grin was wide and I even detected a slight twinkle in his eyes. Santa had been good to us this Christmas.
