Coming Home Early (mg, F-solo, mFg, inc, ped, voy, oral, panties, cum-play, un-safe, preg?) by this guy (thisguy.1066@gmail.com) Summary: A single mother gets home early from work to make a shocking discovery: her kids are having a sexual relationship with each other… Mondays usually suck, but this one was particularly crappy. First my alarm clock didn’t go off, then I dropped the car key and it bounced under the car… The manager at work was in a particularly foul mood because the refrigerator in the little kitchen at the office had died over the weekend; turning the bag of smoked Chubb he had brought in last Friday into the worst smell in the history of the entire world… When the police came in and told us we had to evacuate because of a gas leak around the corner I was starting to think the day might be finally be improving. That hope was quickly shattered by the absolute nightmare of everyone in a four block area all trying to leave at the exact same time, with a street was closed… Although, I was ahead of rush hour traffic coming home: maybe things were looking up after all. The clock in the car said 3:50 when I turned into the driveway at home. I managed to get out of, and lock, the car without incident; then headed to the front door. Turning the knob I found it was locked. The kids had actually remembered to lock the door when they had gotten home from school: I almost didn’t believe it. I could only smile at the thought that the day really was getting better. After unlocking the door and stepping inside I was truly amazed: it was quiet. For once Ben and Lisa weren’t fighting! Sadly they spend most of their free time at home fighting over the television remote control… Walking into the kitchen I started wondering where my kids were. Since their backpacks were on the kitchen table they had clearly come home; but the kids themselves were nowhere to be found. I probably would have put a little more energy into locating my children, but I was thirsty and still aggravated from having had such a crappy day. Having been thirsty when the police evacuated the office (and not being able to get anything to drink for all that time), I simply poured myself a glass of juice and sat down at the kitchen table: enjoying the cold beverage and some much needed peace and quiet. Once I had sat down I noticed that it felt like the house was shaking. “Well it is windy today, and the wind is coming from a different direction than usual…” I silently reasoned, “…that must be it.” Perhaps two minutes after later I thought I heard a voice say, “Where do you want me to sh…” The voice was very quiet and muffled; but, nonetheless, I was almost certain it was my eleven-year-old son’s voice… After a few seconds of silence I heard more, “…in my…” Again the voice was quiet and muffled, this time it sounded like my seven-year-old daughter. “You sure?” Ben’s voice again: this time somewhat clearer and a bit louder. “Unh huh,” Lisa’s voice again: still muffled but a little louder. A part of me couldn’t help but wonder what the kids were talking about; I was tempted to go see what they were up to. But they weren’t fighting, and they were being vastly more quiet than usual… So I just sat there; reveling in the notion that this crappy day really was improving: what a delicious thought. A few seconds later I heard what sounded like a slap. Knowing that if Ben had hit Lisa, she would have screamed; and if Lisa had hit Ben…well, he’d hit her back and then she’d scream. I sat there listening: a somewhat deep muffled groan, but no scream. I must have sat there listening for a full minute without hearing anything. Lisa’s muffled words, “…so creamy and warm in…” broke the silence; and made me so curious what my two children were doing that I decided I would go see what they were up to. I got up and headed upstairs. The door to Ben’s bedroom was open. I glanced in: the room was empty; the kids weren’t in there… As I took the first step down the hallway towards my daughter’s bedroom, Ben stepped out of her room with a smile on his face… The instant he saw me his face went from slightly flushed to white as a sheet. I was too puzzled to say anything… As the color returned to my eleven-year-old son’s face I noticed that his lips were moving. It looked like he was saying “Hi Mom,” but no sound came from his mouth. That was certainly odd, but I continued down the hallway towards Lisa’s bedroom. Standing barely a foot from Ben, I happened to glance into my daughter’s bedroom through the open door: out of the corner of my eye I thought I saw her pulling a pair of panties up her legs and over her butt… But that couldn’t have been right: I mean why would she be pulling up a pair of panties mere seconds after her older brother stepped out of her bedroom?... I blinked my eyes. Looking directly into Lisa’s bedroom, I saw nothing out of the ordinary. The seven year old girl was walking away from her bed, towards the door; as usual she was barefoot, and wearing one of the long dress-like t-shorts she so loves. “Hi Mommy,” she said through an ear-to-ear smile; her voice, though, sounded slightly nervous… “What have you been up to since you got home?” I asked: my question not really directed at either one of my children. “I ah…well, Lisa…” Ben began stammering. “Uhm, so…ah…” Lisa was tripping over her words. Ben took a breath before definitively saying, “There was a spider on Lisa’s pillow and…” he trailed off. “Uh, yeah. It scared me so Ben killed it,” Lisa finished her brother’s statement. Mostly accepting the explanation I’d just heard; I offered, “I guess I better wash your pillow case then.” “No you don’t need to,” Lisa quickly said as I took a step into her bedroom. “Have to: we can’t have you sleeping on a squashed spider,” I commented, a bit un-nerved by the idea myself. “Ah…no, no Mom. I knocked the spider off the pillow before I squashed it,” Ben explained, speaking much faster than normal; while at the same time making a brushing motion with his right hand. I would have simply accepted that explanation, except for the fact that the direction Ben had moved his hand in, would have resulted in the spider ending up on the sheets… “No, I better wash all the bed clothes,” I said, “If there was a spider on the pillow there might be other bugs in the sheets,” before stepping next to the bed. I hadn’t even laid my hand on the pillow when I saw a grimace appear on my daughter’s seven-year-old face and a shudder ripple through her young body. She was clearly much more un-nerved by the idea of sleeping in a bed that had bugs in its sheets than I was. Unceremoniously, I pulled the pink pillow case off the pillow and tossed it on the floor; yanked off the pink top sheet and tossed it on the floor with the pillow case. Then, I began pulling the pink fitted sheet off the mattress. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed something lime-green sticking out from between the box-spring and the mattress. “What’s this?” I pondered aloud, before grabbing the lime-green piece of fabric and pulling. With surprising ease, a small piece of lime-green fabric slipped out from between the box-spring and the mattress. Moving it around in my hands, it took me a few seconds to realize that it was a pair of my daughter’s panties. Well, that explained why the lime-green pair of her panties seemed to have vanished; but why were they under her mattress? Looking at them a bit more closely; I noticed that the inside of the crotch area had a pale yellowish stain which was a bit stiff and sort of crusty…almost like the glazing on a two week old donut… I was about to say something, what I’m not sure; when I noticed a little yellow stripe between the box-spring and the mattress, a few inches further down the length of the bed. Slipping my fingers under the mattress, I ended up pulling out the pastel yellow pair of Lisa’s panties, which had also seemed to have vanished… “Hmm,” I pondered aloud, before lifting up the mattress. There were two more pairs of Lisa’s panties under there; both of them had similar stiff, crusty, yellowish stains on the inside of the crotch area. I was about to ask my daughter why there were four pairs of her obviously dirty panties under her mattress. Suddenly it dawned on me that SEVEN pairs of her panties had seemed to have gone missing…where were the other three pairs? The first pair had disappeared two months ago: her Babette Princesses panties, which weren’t under the mattress. “Lisa, why are there four pairs of your dirty panties under your mattress?” I asked, turning towards her. Lisa looked really uncomfortable and Ben appeared to be trying to suppress some sort of emotional response to my question. “Ben, go to your room and close the door behind you.” I ordered. The eleven year-old-boy did as I had told him: stepping out of the room and closing the door. I waited a second before asking, “Lisa, why are there four pairs of your dirty panties under your mattress?” again. “Ah…” my seven year old daughter tried to speak: sounding extremely embarrassed. “It’s okay; you can tell me. No need to be embarrassed,” I did my best to reassure her. “You won’t get mad?” she asked. “Only if you don’t tell me the truth,” I gave her my usual half-threat. “Really?” Lisa asked. I gave her a stern look. “Oh, okay,” she spoke softly, “I hid them there ‘cause, I thought you’d be mad that I made a mess in them.” “Oh…Lisa, we all have accidents now and then,” I tried to comfort her, “We’ll just wash them: no big deal.” “Really, Mommy?” she asked in a decidedly upbeat tone. “Yeah,” I replied. I took a breath before commenting, “Haven’t seen your Babette Princesses panties in the laundry in a while.” “Unh-huh,” Lisa seemed a bit confused. “If you had an accident in them, we can wash them now, too,” I offered. “No,” she said. “’No?’ No, what?” now I was confused. “No: I didn’t make a mess in them, Ben did,” Lisa explained. I was getting more confused by the second. “Well… Ah, why did Ben?... Where are…” I attempted to ask a question. “They’re in Ben’s room. So are my aquarium panties:” (light blue with cartoon fishes on them), “he made a mess in them too,” Lisa explained further. “Oh,” I responded, “Wha…well how…why would Ben…” I was so confused I couldn’t form a coherent question. “He says they’re softer…” Lisa offered an explanation which made absolutely no sense to me AND didn’t seem to make sense to her. “Right,” I mindlessly said, while wondering how, or perhaps more appropriately why, an eleven year old boy would be wearing a seven year old girl’s panties. Thinking for a second a logical thought hit me: he wasn’t wearing them; he was using them to soak up the urine when he accidently wet his pants…yeah, that made sense. I have to admit that I was a bit surprised, not to mention somewhat disappointed, that both of my kids were wetting themselves; but at least we’d just solved a household mystery. “Well, let’s go get those pairs and put them in the laundry too,” I said opening the door and stepping out into the hallway. “So you’re not mad Mommy?” Lisa asked as she followed me into the hallway. “No honey,” I replied as we headed to Ben’s bedroom, “In the grand scheme of things, peeing your pants isn’t that big a deal.” I thought I heard Lisa say, “Huh?” behind me. Opening the door of my eleven year old son’s bedroom, I was surprised to see that the room was empty. “Lisa, where’d Ben put the panties he’d used to soak up the urine when he wet his pants?” I asked, turning towards my seven year old daughter. She got this strange, confused look on her face. Then after a second of silence she said, “Neither of us peed our pants.” Now I was really confused. “Well, then… How did…” I paused in thought for a second, before a truly revolting thought passed through my mind, “Lisa, you guys didn’t poop your pants? Did you?” “No way,” Lisa said defensively in a tone so adamant that I knew she was telling the truth, “I’m not a baby.” “Okay, okay; I believe you,” I replied before asking, “So then, how did you make a mess in them?” “Ahh…” Lisa stammered, “Uhm, some creamy warm stuff…” she paused for a half a second before continuing to explain, “…dripped out of my… Uhm, hole.” There was an unexpected twinge of fear in her voice. “Some creamy warm stuff dripped out of your hole?” I pondered aloud, “You’re hole? Warm creamy stuff? What are you talking about Lisa?” I asked; growing more confused as I was speaking. “Like this Mommy,” she said, giving me a look that made it clear she couldn’t understand why I was confused. She promptly pulled the bottom of the long t-shirt she was wearing up to just below her neck, fully revealing the seventh pair of panties that had gone missing and most of her flat belly. She then tilted her head down (effectively holding the front of the shirt up with her chin) and pulled her panties down several inches. Looking into my seven year old daughter’s panties, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. There was a strand of pearlescent creamy looking whitish goo stretching down from Lisa’s decidedly puffy and slightly red little-girl pussy-lips to the crotch area of her panties, which was coated with a thin layer of similar creamy looking white goo… Suddenly it all made sense: “BEN, GET YOUR ASS IN HERE!” I bellowed. While waiting for Ben to return to his bedroom, a series of powerful emotions coursed through my body. By the time he stepped through the door into his bedroom I wasn’t sure what I was feeling… Before yelling at my eleven-year-old son I took a deep breath. I exhaled some of my anger and asked, in a mostly calm voice asked, “Ben, explain to me why your little sister thinks two pairs of her dirty panties are in your bedroom? And while you’re at it explain to me why she says you made a mess in them…” “Ah, uhm…” he began to stammer. “Why don’t you start by getting them so we can wash them,” I all but ordered. Ben slowly walked over to his closet, opened the door, bent down and reached into his winter boots from last year. He pulled an object out of each one and returned to me. “Here they are Mom,” he said with quite a bit of shame in his voice. Taking the two pairs of my daughter’s panties from my son, I was shocked by the fact that the fabric was decidedly stiff; nearly the entirety of both pairs were covered in crusty, yellowish stains on both the inside and the outside. “Wow, how many times did you make a mess in them?” Lisa asked in an inquisitive tone when she saw them. “So why were they in your bedroom?” I asked, “And how were you using them?” “Ah…well…uhm…” Ben was stammering again, “I was…uhm…using them to…ah…catch the stuff that…uh…shoots out…of my wiener…uhm…when I rub it…” “So you were shooting in them to not make a bigger mess,” I clarified his statement. “Yes, Mom,” Ben tentatively replied. “Okay, fine,” I replied; more than slightly surprised that I wasn’t all that mad. I took a breath and calmly asked, “Now explain to me why the stuff that shoots out of your wiener when you rub it is leaking out of the hole between your little sister’s legs?” “Lisa kinda caught me rubbing my wiener a couple months ago…and, well…” he trailed off. “Lisa,” I said turning to my daughter, “Is that true?” “Yes Mommy,” my seven-year-old daughter answered. After a few seconds of silence I said, “Okay…show me.” “Show you what, Mommy?” Lisa asked. I took a breath and further explained, “Show me what you did to cause Ben’s stuff to be leaking out of your hole.” Now why the hell had I said that? Lisa surprised me a bit when she simply yanked the panties she was wearing down and stepped out of them. She then proceeded to hop up onto her brother’s bed and lay down of her back as she spread her legs. “What are you doing?” Ben quietly asked his little sister. “Showing Mommy how your creamy warm stuff got in my hole,” Lisa replied to her eleven-year-old brother, looking at him like he was an idiot. Ben just stood there until, a full minute after Lisa had laid on his bed before I said, “Ben, you ARE going to show me how it got into your sister’s hole.” “Yes Mom,” Ben replied quietly in a down-trodden sounding voice; before removing his shorts and underpants. He climbed onto his bed and laid down on top of his seven-year-old little sister. Lisa reached her left hand under her eleven-year-old brother’s body, shifted around a bit, and then said, “Okay, it’s in.” Suddenly Ben began hunching his hips. His butt began moving up-and-down in a quick rhythmic motion… Seeing my eleven-year-old son fucking my seven-year-old daughter, his little sister, should have sent me flying into a rage. But it didn’t, it turned me on: I could actually feel the insides of my panties beginning to get damp! Wanting a better view of the action, I squatted down next to my son’s bed. And my god did I get a better view, leaning my body forward slightly put my eyes little more than two inches above the top of the mattress: I was looking under my son’s left thigh and able to see his glistening wet four inch long eleven-year-old dick sliding in-and-out of my daughter’s visibly reddened seven-year-old slit. It very well may have been the most erotic thing I had ever seen! I was so turned on by the pre-pubescent incestuous coupling I was staring at; that, without thinking about my own actions, I reached down and undid my own skirt. An instant later I was shoving my right hand down the front of my, now sopping wet, panties and began vigorously rubbing my own engorged clit. I was beginning to feel the signs that my own impending orgasm was about to start. “I’m gonna shoot soon; where do you want me to do it?” Ben’s voice snapped me back to reality. “In my hole, like Mommy said,” Lisa replied. “Alright…” Ben said with a grunt, “Here it comes…” he said as he shoved his hips forward and held them almost completely still while his entire body appeared to tense-up. “It’s even warmer and creamier than usual,” Lisa commented. Ben’s body remained tensed-up while hips remained almost still in the shoved-forward position for a good fifteen seconds. As his body seemed to relax, his breathing got noticeably heavier and he said, “Wow,” before rolling off Lisa. “See Mommy? That’s how Ben’s creamy warm stuff got in my hole,” Lisa matter-of-factly declared. A fraction of a millisecond later I felt an electric shock emanating from my clit shoot out in all directions through my body. Losing my balance, I slumped against the side of my son’s bed as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through my body. “Mom? Mom, are you okay?” I could hear my son saying through my orgasm. “Unh…huh…” I managed to gasp a reply through my orgasm. About a minute passed before I heard my daughter ask, “What’s happening to Mommy?” I could just barely make out Ben shrugging his shoulders in response to his little sister’s question. Orgasmic pleasure coursed through my body for another full minute before I gasped, “Oh…yea…” I could feel that my clothing was slightly dampened by the thin sheen of sweat which had developed over the entirety of my body. “Mommy, are you okay?” Lisa asked in a decidedly concerned voice. I blissfully exhaled the word “Yeah,” before taking a breath and added, “Better than anytime so far today…” “What just happened to you?” my son asked. “I just had…” I began to reply before catching myself: I suddenly realized that the way I answered my eleven year old son’s question could affect everything that would happen in our house for years to come. I used the second taking a breath took to pick, what I thought at the time, were the best words. “Seeing the two of you not fighting, getting along, and working together towards a common goal made me happy…” “But you were shaking, not smiling Mommy,” my seven year old daughter observantly commented. “Yes… Yes, I was. See when a mommy is real happy…” I began to lie to my children. Realizing that I was about to break a promise I had made to myself when I first found out I was pregnant with Ben, I took a deep breath and decided I had to change course. I maneuvered myself up until I was sitting on the edge of my son’s bed. “Right… So, Ben; I was happy because you were trying to not make a mess when you shot the stuff out of your wiener. And Lisa, I was happy you were helping your brother by letting him shoot in your hole.” I took a breath, and continued, “And when a woman is really happy the enjoyment makes her whole body shake…” “That sounds kinda like how I feel when I shoot the creamy warm stuff…” Ben commented. “It’s the same kind of being really happy,” I heard myself say, despite knowing I shouldn’t have. “Really?!” Lisa beamed. CRAP: I had to choose between telling my children the truth, or lying to them. I thought for half a second before saying, “Yes, really.” The instant I finished saying those words I was all but certain I had made the wrong choice… But what’s done is done, and you can’t change the past: so I tried to put it out of my mind. It was Ben who broke the silence about a minute later when he commented, “Lisa, if you don’t put your panties back on the stuff is gonna leak out of your hole…” “Ouu…” a concerned grumble emanated from Lisa. She began looking around, then asked, “Where are my panties?” All three of us just sat there on my eleven year old son’s bed for a few seconds looking around and trying to remember what Lisa had done with her panties. Then I spied my seven year old daughter’s panties laying on the floor where she had stepped out of them. “They’re on the floor,” I said, pointing at them. Lisa began to move before thinking aloud, “If I get up, the creamy warm stuff will make a mess…” as she stopped dead in her tracks. “I’ll get them,” I said and stood. I took the couple steps it took me to reach where my seven year old daughter had dropped her panties and bent over to pick them up. “Mom,” Ben spoke up. “What?” I asked as I returned to a standing position; Lisa’s cum glazed panties in my right hand. “There’s a wet spot on the back of your skirt…” Ben completed his comment. I moved my left hand behind my legs and felt a damp spot on the back of skirt just below my butt. “You didn’t pee yourself, did you Mommy?” Lisa asked inquisitively. “No,” I said. I couldn’t help but smile a little bit at my seven year old daughter’s question: since it probably did look like I’d wet myself. Figuring it would be best to explain, I said, “When a woman is really happy like that some liquid comes out of her hole…” “Like how the creamy warm stuff comes out of my wiener?” Ben interrupted me by asking. “Yes, a lot like that,” I replied, as I handed my daughter her panties. “So…you made a mess in your panties too?” Lisa asked as she slid her bare feet through the leg holes in her panties. “Something like that,” I answered. “That’s never happened to Lisa,” Ben commented. Glancing over at my son, I realized that he was still naked from the waist down, and his eleven year old dick was half hard. Seeing that; I could feel a bit more moisture building up inside my pussy. “We can talk more about it after you finish your homework,” I told both my children, then added, “Ben, put some pants on.” Before either child could reply or ask a question, I turned around, grabbed the six of the pairs of panties they had made a mess in, and promptly walked out of my son’s bedroom. I took the cum soaked panties to the laundry room and tossed them into the washing machine, put extra detergent in and ran the machine on the longest available cycle; then headed to my own bedroom to get changed. By the time I had stepped into my bedroom, I could feel the liquid that had oozed its way out of me during the pussy melting orgasm I’d had while watching my children fucking begin to slowly run down the insides of my thighs. I quickly kicked off my dress shoes, pulled off my blouse and skirt, and all but ripped my decidedly wet panties off. I flopped onto the bed on my back, spread my legs, and began feverishly rubbing my still engorged clit with my right hand. As I pleasure myself I thought about the stiff crusty pale yellowish stains that were all over Lisa’s panties: I wondered how many loads of cum my eleven year old son must have had to shoot into them to have made them that way; I wondered how many times Ben had shot his cum into my seven year old daughter’s pussy, only to have it drool out of her pre-pubescent sex-hole into her panties… Between those thoughts and the vigorous rubbing I was giving my clit, wave after wave of pleasure began coursing through my body. When I wondered if my children had enjoyed losing their virginities to their siblings, an electric shock emanating from my clit coursed out in all directions through my body. An instant later I began to feel my pussy juices drooling out of my own sex-hole and begin to run down my butt crack… Suddenly a thought hit me: considering how many cum stains were spread over how many pairs of Lisa’s panties, my daughter must have been having quite a bit of sex for quite some time…and she was only seven years old… At that very instant full-fledged orgasmic pleasure began to course through my body for a second time in less than half an hour. By the time my orgasm stopped, some ten minutes after it began, I was physically exhausted…and yet I felt better than I had in years… Once I caught my breath and sat up in my bed it dawned on me that it had been over three years since there had been a cock inside my pussy. For a few seconds I was jealous of my daughter…more precisely, I was jealous of all the sex she’d been having, while I hadn’t been getting any. Swinging my lower legs over the side of the bed, I did my best to think rationally about what I had learned: my children were having sex with each other. I stood, and began to walk to my closet; all the while thinking “my pre-pubescent pre-teenage children where in an incestuous relationship with each other”. It was something I should have been, at the very least deeply troubled by, if not down-right horrified by. Grabbing a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt; I found myself coming to the conclusion that “maybe it was a good thing Ben and Lisa were having sex with each other”: if they were doing it with each other, I wouldn’t have to worry about Ben getting in trouble by trying to ‘get with’ some girl…and I wouldn’t have to worry about Lisa getting into ‘an abusive relationship’ with some boy… Frequently going without underwear at home, I simply put the sweatpants and t-shirt on before leaving my bedroom like I usually do in eh evening. While heading back downstairs, I continued trying to think rationally about my children’s incestuous relationship. “Lisa was only seven years old: so despite them having unprotected sex, there was no need to worry about her getting pregnant for a few years,” and “since I knew Lisa was sexually active, I would just put her on birth control when she turns ten”… Yes, they were having unprotected sex, but “they’re young enough that it’s almost certain they’d never done anything with anyone other than each other, so there was no need to worry about diseases”, and “they are brother and sister, so despite their squabbling, as siblings they’d love each other enough to not cheat on one another”… By the time I reached the kitchen table, where both of my children were doing their homework, I had managed to fully and completely rationalize and accept that there was nothing wrong with their incestuous relationship…what they were wearing, on the other hand… “Ben, why aren’t you wearing a shirt?” I asked. “You said to put pants on, you didn’t say anything about a shirt,” he responded in a slightly defiant tone. I silently glared at my eleven year old son for a minute before he stood and said, “I’m gonna go put a shirt on…” with that he headed for the stairs. “Should I put on different clothes too, Mommy?” Lisa asked. Since I never took issue with my seven year old daughter wearing a long t-shirt (like a dress) over her panties, I decided to maintain that previously established position; saying, “So long as you don’t go outside, you’re dressed okay.” “Okay Mommy,” she replied before returning to her homework. *** A while later; after both children had finished their homework and we’d eaten dinner, my seven year old daughter commented, “Mommy, when we were in Ben’s room, you said we’d talk about ow you made a mess in your panties…” There was an awkward moment of silence while I was trying to figure out what my daughter was talking about. Then it hit me: “You mean the wet spot on the back of Mommy’s panties after she watched Ben shoot in your hole?” I half asked. “Unh-huh,” Lisa replied. Turning to Ben, I said, “Turn off the TV.” Once he did, I began speaking, “Okay, so when…” finding myself at a loss for words I ended up trailing off. “Right… So, watching how you were…” I trailed off again. After a second of silence, Ben began to speak, “So, watching you let me use your hole to shoot in made Mom…” he too trailed off. Hearing Ben say those words helped me straighten out my train of thought. Pointing at my eleven year old son, I said, “Yes.” Lowering my finger, I turned towards Lisa and continued, “Watching you let your brother use your hole to shoot into showed me how much you…” I glanced back towards Ben, “…two love each other.” I took a breath then continued, “And seeing how much my children love each other made me really happy…” I looked directly at Lisa, “…kinda like how Ben feels when you let him shoot in your hole.” “Oh…” my seven year old daughter said as she tried to understand what I had just told her. “But the wet spot was on your butt; shouldn’t it have been on your front?” she thought aloud. “The stuff that comes out of girls comes out of their holes, which point down,” I said. Even after hearing me say that, there was a confused look on Lisa’s face. Before I could continue speaking, for good or for bad, Ben picked up my explanation, “Kinda like how the stuff I shoot in your hole drains out into your panties afterwards.” “Oh…” Lisa said as she tried to understand what her brother and I had just told her. “But the wet spot on your butt: it looked like the wet stuff that made it was kinda watery, not creamy?” she asked looking directly at me. “The stuff that comes out of girls when they get really happy like that is different than the stuff that comes out of boys,” I began trying to explain. “The stuff that comes out of girls is thinner and almost clear.” “Oh,” Lisa said in a voice that sounded so definitive, that I was certain she finally understood what I was trying to explain. Half a second later she asked, “How come I never shot the stuff out of my hole?” “The stuff that comes out of girls holes doesn’t usually shoot out: usually it kinda drips or drools out,” I said. “And maybe you weren’t happy enough for it to happen,” Ben added. “Well, why wasn’t I happy enough?” Lisa asked sounding somewhere between mad and disappointed. I wasn’t quite sure how to answer my daughter’s question, but I found myself saying, “Girls need to be a lot happier than boys do for the stuff to come out of them…” After saying those words I thought for half a second before adding, “But when girls are happy enough, they can make the stuff come out over and over and over again…and boy can’t do that…” “Really!?” Lisa beamed. “Yes, really,” I declared, as my mind wandered back to the rolling orgasms I’d had with Lisa’s father…as I began to feel a familiar dampness building inside my pussy. “So has the stuff come out of you over and over again before Mommy?” Lisa asked in an excited yet way too innocent sounding voice. “A few times…” I thought out loud. “Wow… So after I shoot, I usually feel a little tired; you must’ve felt real tired after shooting the stuff over and over again,” Ben commented. “Yea; I did feel tired afterwards, but it’s a good tired, and usually I’d be asleep not long after,” I half explained / half reminisced. As I was speaking I felt the dampness inside my pussy turning into a full-fledged moistness: the conversation I was having with my children was turning me on! “I never fall asleep after I shoot,” Ben commented; his voice sounding as if he was more thinking than speaking. “You’re probably hungry afterwards, right?” I half asked my son; thinking of how his father always wanted to raid the frig after we had sex. “Yea…I always want a sandwich…” he replied in a voice that was halfway between confused and nervous. “How’d you know that Mommy?” Lisa asked. “Lots of boys feel hungry afterwards,” I answered. “Oh…” both children said at the same time. After a very brief silence Lisa asked, “How can I get happy enough for the stuff to come out of me over and over again?” I forced myself to take a breath in order to buy myself a little time to come up with an answer. Unfortunately Ben took the opportunity that time provided to suggest, “Maybe Mom could show us a way to make you happier.” “Could you Mommy? Please, please.” My seven year old daughter began to beg. “Yeah, okay,” I answered before wondering why I had said that. “So how…” Lisa trailed off; clearly not fully sure what she was trying to ask. After about forty-five seconds of eerie silence, Ben suggested, “Maybe we should go upstairs…” “Yea, it’ll be easier on a bed,” I heard my own voice say despite not even realizing I had opened my mouth to speak. Before Ben or I could even stand up, Lisa had hopped off the sofa and ran to the bottom of the stairs. “Come on,” she practically begged. “Go to my room,” I declared as my seven year old daughter ran up the steps; her eleven year old brother hot on her heels. In the minute or so it took me to get upstairs and to my bedroom door, both of my children had shed all of their clothing and sat down on the edge of my bed. “Okay,” I began speaking before pausing while I pulled my shirt up and over my head. Once the thin cotton fabric was clear of my face I continued speaking, “Lisa: get up on the bed and sit near the pillows.” While pulling my sweatpants down I added, “Ben, you move to the bottom of the bed.” Both children did as instructed while I stepped out of my sweatpants. Once fully nude, I sat on the bed. Twisting and shimmying my body over, I positioned myself in the middle of the bed and layed on my back. I spread my legs and instructed, “Ben, get on top of me like you did with Lisa.” Before I could say another word my eleven year old son had moved between my legs and was laying down on top of me. Little more than a second later I felt the familiar sensation of a hard dick-head pressing against the opening of my vagina. Clearly Ben felt this as well, because he rocked his hips forward: the entire length of his dick sliding into my pussy in a single smooth movement. As he began withdrawing his eleven-year-old member from my decidedly moist pussy I reveled in the notion that my son’s penis, the most obvious physical symbol of his maleness, was inside the vagina which had given him birth. He was, in a sense, returning to my womb…disturbing as that though should have been, I found it to be an absolutely delectable idea and incredibly erotic… I took a breath to clear those sexy thought from my head for a moment so I could tell my daughter how to join-in on our inter-generational incestuous fun. “Lisa, squat over my face,” I instructed. “You want me over your face, Mommy/” the seven year old girl questioned. “Yes,” I replied before adding, “Feet on either side of my head, put your hole above my mouth.” Lisa slowly followed my instructions. The moment her seven-year-old pre-pubescent little-girl pussy was within an inch of my lips I stuck my tongue out and began licking up-and-down the length of her immature slit. “That feels funny, Mommy,” Lisa giggled. While continuing to slide his eleven-year-old dick in-and-out of my adult pussy, Ben asked, “Good funny; not bad funny, right?” “Yea, good funny,” Lisa giggled. Upon hearing her saying that she like the tonguing I was giving her, I stiffened my tongue and forced its tip in through the entrance of her little-girl pussy. “Oh…wow…” she half gasped: yeah, she liked having her mommy go down on her… After little more than a minute of heavy breathing, Lisa gasped, “Iaaa…” The temperature of her immature tight little-girl pussy increased so quickly that I could actually feel the change on my tongue. As I began to wonder how hot her pre-pubescent little pussy could get she shrieked and her small seven-year-old body began shaking. I quickly grabbed hold of her narrow hips and held her pelvis as still as I possible so I could continue giving her a proper tonguing. After several minutes of my daughter thrashing about on top of my face, I felt Ben’s body tense up. He quickly shoved the entire length of his preteenaged dick into my adult pussy not more than a millisecond before I felt the familiar warm wetness of cum shooting into my fuck-hole. I was aware of the fact that I was getting close to an orgasm for about a minute; and yet, somehow the electric shock emanating from my clit coursing out in all directions through my body still took me by surprise. Clearly that warm wet blast of cum was all I had needed to push me over the edge. Despite the shaking of my own body, I did my best to continue giving my seven year old daughter’s pre-pubescent little-girl pussy the tonguing it so rightly deserved. Little more than three seconds after my orgasm began Lisa’s orgasm seemed to double-down: her small seven-year-old body was shaking even harder, and for a very brief moment a series of tiny shots of her little-girl love-juices found their way out of her spasming immature pussy and onto my tongue. Despite the electric shocks of my own orgasm shooting through my body, I managed to gulp down each and every precious drop of my daughter’s pre-pubescent love-juices. Suddenly, through my orgasm, I had a most unwelcome thought / feeling: Ben was beginning to withdraw his softening eleven-year-old dick from my pussy. Wanting to keep enjoying the semi-fullness his four-inch pre-teenage member provided in my still orgasmicly spasming pussy, I quickly raised my lower legs up and locked my ankles behind his butt: forcing him to remain inside me. “Mom?...” I could just barely hear Ben say: clearly he was surprised that I was holding him inside me. He may have been surprised by it, but there was no way I was going to let him pull out before my orgasm subsided. Little more than ten seconds later, Lisa’s orgasm began to die down. And, a few seconds later my own did as well… Once Lisa’s small seven-year-old body stopped shaking, I withdrew my tongue from her immature pre-pubescent little-girl pussy. As my tongue moved back into my mouth I savored the last hints of the flavor of her little-girl sex-juices…GOD they were delicious… “Wow Mommy…” Lisa panted as she rolled off of my face to my right side. Half a second later, as the very last twinges of my orgasm faded from my body, I unhooked my ankles from behind Ben’s butt. He quickly rocked his body back: withdrawing his completely soft eleven-year-old dick from my sopping wet pussy, that very movement creating the most obscenely erotic slurping sound I’ve ever heard. “Yeah…you said it: wow,” Ben added as he rolled off to my left side. “Yeah…yeah…that…was GOOD…” I panted my agreement. For a few minutes the three of us layed there while we caught our breath. Then I broke the silence by informing my children, “You two are sleeping in bed with me tonight.” Lifting my feet and legs up I turned to my daughter and instructed, “Lisa, push the covers down.” She followed my directions: pushing the covers down far enough that when I lowered my legs my feet were on the fitted sheet only. Turning to my son, I instructed, “Ben, help your sister pull the covers back up and once we’re all under them, turn off the light.” Both children pulled the covers up and over our naked bodies. Lisa rolled onto her left side, so that she was facing me and layed her head on my chest, just below my right shoulder. Ben reached around and turned the light on the nightstand off before rolling onto his right side, so that he was facing me and layed his head on my left shoulder. With the positions both of them were in it was easy for me to move my hands to their bare butts and pull them in close to me. In a matter of seconds both children were asleep. For several minutes I layed there awake thinking about how GREAT making love to my children had been… In short order I decided that we would do this every night. Then, perhaps a moment later, I remembered that I wasn’t on birth control! And my son had just cum inside me: OH SHIT!!! For about a minute I was wracked with fear at the very prospect that my eleven-year-old son might have just knocked me up; but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that Ben would be a great father for his future siblings…