The sluty mom’s story Part 1

Note : This story is completely fictional!

Hai readers here is another super hit story I assure the story series is satisfied your all Incest dreams so don’t forget any part of this story. I think this will be four part because I am writing this in my every time mood between my classic creation of “ The rainforest” so when it ends I don’t know the exact time of this story ends. Therefore you have a wonderful Incest story here starts the non-stop Incest of a long story read and write.

I'll admit I was frustrated. And frustration is a very powerful emotion. Or rather, it's a very powerful manifestation of other emotions. In my case, the frustration was a buildup of undirected lust and boredom, and a feeling of being neglected and under appreciated. And it all came to a head on a Friday afternoon, when I was sitting alone in my big, empty kitchen.

I should mention that I love my kitchen. It's the one nice thing my husband Hogan has done for me in the last few years. Probably he had it build for me out of feelings of guilt about his sexual neglect. Whatever. It's a glorious kitchen with lots of morning light, and a wood-burning fireplace I can turn on in the evening. On this particular day, I was actually using the fireplace, slowly roasting a chicken I had planned on serving for supper, along with some oven roasted vegetables and some flatbread, with a phyllo-pistachio layer-cake for dessert. And then Hogan called, to say that he had to work late and wouldn't be home for dinner. And I pretended I was fine with it, but inside, I was fuming. As if it wasn't enough that my sexual prowess was being underutilized, it was a further, perhaps even a greater insult that my culinary expertise was being ignored. But no matter. There would still be, Beckin and Beatrice when they got home from summer school, and Bethovan, who was home from university for the summer. But one by one, each one called. First Bethovan, saying that he was going to be out with some high school friends, and then Beckin, who had a date--his first girlfriend, Ursula a south asian, who he had not yet introduced to us. Beatrice called to say she was going to be over at her friend Rebecka's for dinner. Rebecka Menko, who's mother Gabi always made the most bland casseroles from the recipes on the back of noodle packages. I was damned if I was going to let this meal go to waste, though. I called my close friend Jesica, who lived just across the street. Maybe she and Rion would want to come over for dinner. Jesica picked up after the seventh ring.

"Oh my god, Sayonora. Look out your window right now." The excitement in her voice was obvious. I took the cordless phone and went to the front window, peaking through the drapes. Someone was just leaving Jesica's house. A young man.

"Okay," I said, not sure what I should be looking at. "Wait a minute, is that Jiang?" It was Jiang, a friend of Beethoven’s. Jiang grew up down the street, the son of a south Korean couple. He had taken Kung Fu lessons, and was chiseled like no other guy I knew. I had seen this--his finely muscled torso--when he and Bethovan would play basketball out on the front driveway. But what was he doing at Jesica's. Then it sunk in.

"You didn't," I said.

"We did. We did continuously, for about two hours, and I don't think I touched the ground once."

I watched Jiang look back over his shoulder, then walk down the winding suburban street toward his own home.

"It was so good. I did things I've never done before. Things I never thought I'd do. Like... anal." She whispered the last word.

"That's great," I said, not even attempting to sound enthused. Jiang had been my sexual fantasy, my little taboo, and now that was gone. If Jesica had him, for me to have him would be cheap, a copy-cat gesture. Even the possibility of masturbating while thinking about Jiang lost all of its taboo.

"Have you ever had sex with a guy with a shaved head? In the shower?" It was a rhetorical question. Jesica knew that my sexual history was extremely limited. "It's so hot. He was down on his knees, rubbing his head between my thighs against my pussy, it was like I was going to take his whole body inside me it is really fantastic move from that young stud."

"Sounds great."

"Wow. Anyway, enough about me. Why were you calling?"

The thought of having Jesica and her husband over for dinner had lost its appeal. Of course, it wasn't Jesica's fault. I had never told her that I had lusted after Jiang for all these years. No doubt it had been a long festering lust inside Jesica, too. Someday, when I was feeling less depressed, I would ask her about it, how it happened, who initiated it.

"Nothing," I said. "Just calling to see how you were doing. Oh, sorry!" I added a level of surprise to my voice. "I've got something in the oven I need to go check on."

"Okay, bye."

"Bye."

I dropped the phone on the couch and wandered back to the kitchen, regarding the chicken rotating slowly over the fire. Stabbed through with a skewer, it seemed it was getting a better sex life than I was. Part of me wanted to take the bird out of the fire and just toss it into the garbage. But I couldn't bring myself to waste what was going to be such a fantastic meal. So I set about preparing the vegetables, coating them slickly with olive oil and cracked black pepper, then sliding them onto the stove.

I checked the cake in the oven, which was coming along nicely, so I poured myself a cocktail--vodka, lime and gingerale, and set the table for one, a setting for myself at the head of the large oak dining table. What the hell... I decided I'd dress up a little nice, too. If nobody else was going to appreciate me, I'd at least appreciate myself. I put on stockings, lacy black underwear, and a really form-fitting crimson dress that I generally used only for Christmas parties--it went really well with my pale complexion and dark hair. I looked fantastic.

I went back downstairs, took the chicken off the fire, cut myself off a big piece of breast meat and leg bone, served up a few vegetables, and went and sat down at the table.

I picked up my knife and forked, but then stopped. I'm not sure why, exactly, but I made the decision I was going to eat with my hands and fingers. I think I liked the contrast--juxtaposition, I think that's the right word--of being dressed up in my best dress and eating this greasy, juicy chicken with my fingers. and it was delicious. the skin was nice and crispy, and the flesh beneath was tender and moist, with the strong flavour of pepper. Some juice ran down my arm, and rather than wipe it off, I raised my arm up and licked it, a gesture that gave me shivers. I was feeling carnal. I was feeling like an animal. I was so ready to masturbate.

"Fuck." I remembered that Jesica had just fucked Jiang the young hard. Who was I going to think about now? I tried to bring the image of Jiang into my mind, try to forget that Jesica had already been with him. I remembered him when he was younger, playing basketball out front, his body lean and firm and glistening with sweat, his movements so elegant and catlike, his gaze pure and unfocused, like he was seeing everything without looking. But I couldn't do it, couldn't think about him that way anymore. I cursed Jesica under my breath. And then, across the basketball court in my mind, beyond Jiang, I saw Bethovan, standing there bare-chested, his skill pale like mine, but hair red like his father's. He was built, too. A nice, lean body, not as muscular as Jiang, but lean and nimble. I had a decision to make. Was I going to let myself think about him while I masturbated? If not, I needed to move on and find a different fantasy before my mood passed. I continued to eat the chicken with my left hand, my right hand now hiking up my dress and resting it against my inner thighs where my stockings came to an end.

Just this once, I told myself. I'd let myself think about my son while I masturbated this time, but it would be a one-time thing. I know it would seem like to great a taboo for most women just to entertain those thoughts. But when I was a girl, I had fantasies about my father, so I guess to taboo of incestuous thought had already been breached for me.

So I imagined Bethovan there with me, at the table. Him in his basketball shorts, barechested, still sweating from exertion, leaning back in his chair, and in thinking such, slipped a finger slick with olive oil and chicken grease beneath my panties, and gently touched my clit. It was a nice, tingly lubrication, as I let my fingers wander delicately over my pussy, imagining Bethovan now rising from his chair, pulling his shorts down, and taking his cock--which, of course, I imagined to be enormous and glistening--in his hand, as it slowly gained firmness and direction, pointed toward me.

I continued to eat as I masturbated. I'm not sure why, except that it seemed really hot, really taboo. I helped myself to some grilled red peppers, juicy and almost tongue-like in my mouth, and found it easy to imagine that as Bethovan's tongue with all the excitement and fear of a boy kissing his own mother. Delicious. I stuffed my mouth too full and the juice ran down my chin, down my neck, and again it was easy to imagine this as his eager tongue. And then I came. Just like that. It was so shocking, so hard, the best orgasm I had experienced in at least ten years, and everything went black and signals hit me in the back of my spine. A few seconds later, I was standing, leaning forward on the table, legs spread. I don't remember standing, but there I was. I legs quivered under the tension of my body. I sunk back into the chair, noticing that the floor below me was wet. Had I ejaculated? If so, that was another thing I hadn't done in at least a decade.

But as much as my body was on a high from that fantastic orgasm, my mind was reeling a bit. Those seconds after an orgasm are clear moments, I find. And there's no moment as sobering as the waking seconds after masturbating about your first-born. Hell. I was going to hell for that. Not that I believed in hell. I went upstairs and changed out of my dress, putting on jeans and a t-shirt, and went back downstairs, cleaning up the mess on the chair and the floor. And I put away the food. Anything to keep my mind off what I had just done.

But eventually I had no choice but to think about what I had just done, and the bittersweet reality that I would do the same again, that, unlike Jiang, nothing could take this taboo away from me. That Bethovan could fuck any girl, and number of girls, could even fuck Jesica across the street, and the fantasy would never grow old for me, because my pleasure was at the thought of the incestuous taboo.

Was Bethovan a virgin? I doubted it. He had been at college for a couple years, after all. But I had never seen him hanging out with a girl. And the more I thought about it, the more it crept into my mind that maybe Bethovan was gay. One of his friends was definitely a homosexual. Maybe Bethovan was, too. I began to convince myself of this. If Bethovan was gay, I decided, there was no way I could think about him sexually. In the back of my mind, I knew I was just trying to trick myself into losing interest in him. The least I could do was investigate, though. Maybe he had emails on his laptop to a gay lover. He had left it here, hadn't he? I went upstairs to Bethovan's room, sparsely decorated because he had taken so much stuff with him to college. His laptop was on the desk, and I flipped it open, waiting for the display to come to life. I entered the password 'ginger'. It was his first pet, and he used it as a password for everything.

I opened his emails and scanned through, but they were all fairly mild. Emails to friends, classmates, usually just discussing their lives (which seemed pretty dull) or their classes (also dull). Some jokes about girls, but nothing to really establish him as being either gay or straight. I checked the bookmarks on his web-browser. Hidden about three folders deep, were a collection of bookmarks to adult sites. The first two were tame, collections of pictures of women masturbating. They didn't do much for me, but I could understand how a young man might be really into those pictures. That should have been enough proof to convince me that Bethovan was straight, but I kept looking. The third site seemed to be a collection of videos of big black men screwing tiny white women. Some of them started kinda hot, but they always got too vicious, looked a little too painful. The next site didn't have any pictures at all, just links to stories. I picked one from the list and began reading. It was talking about a boy watching his mother in the shower entirely different bona fide story. My heart began racing as I read it, a stronger reaction than to any porn I had seen before--whether video or film or pictures. It was poorly written and I skipped ahead to the finish, which was of the mother licking her son's cum off the bathroom floor which is really erotic fantastic orgasm maker like the stories of Incester. I clicked back and read a different story, this one about a mother and her two young sons. Then a third story about a father and a daughter. And then I heard something downstairs, someone coming home, possibly, so I quickly closed the website and turned off the computer.

I wasn't sure who was downstairs, but I wasn't ready to look at anyone. I went into my bedroom, shutting the door, and fell upon the bed. I hadn't intended for that to happen. I had intended to look at his computer, proving to myself that he was gay, and thus removing him from my fantasies. Instead, I had only proved--or at least found reasonable evidence to suggest--that he had similar feelings for me. What if I was to do something? Initiate something? If I took a first step, would he take a second, and would I then take a third? I no longer trusted myself--the slightest hint dropped, the slightest lingering glance could start something that neither of us would be able to stop.

I woke up beneath the covers. I could tell that Hogan had been home, had slept beside me, had perhaps undressed me and put me to bed. But his side of the bed was now empty but for his smell.

"Hey dear," he looked up from his paper when I got downstairs. "Sorry I didn't get home until late."

"It's alright, I understand."

"Did you and the kids have a good dinner?"

"I wouldn't know," I said, somewhat resigned. "None of them came home for dinner, either."

"Oh." He looked at me earnestly, searching and likely finding the lines of hurt on my face. "How about tonight, we'll make sure that we're all here for dinner."

"That's great," I said. "Except that I spent so much time in the kitchen yesterday that I don't really feel like doing the same today."

"Well, I'll take us out for dinner then."

I nodded, giving him a pat on the sleeve. I could hear the shower upstairs. Was it Beckin, or Beatrice, or Bethovan? It was the first time I had thought of Bethovan this morning, the first time I let myself remember the dark fantasies and surprising revelation that had followed dinner. I made myself breakfast, just toast and jam, and took the Books section of the paper. The sound of the shower stopped, and a couple minutes later, Bethovan came downstairs, his hair still wet from the shower. He wore boxer shorts and a t-shirt, the shirt clinging to the wet parts of his chest. He sat down at the table across from me and started fixing a bowl of cheerios. I watched him carefully. This was easily a man I could be sexually attracted to, even as much as I had been attracted to his father. It would be too easy, even. I couldn't help it, imagining being pressed against his moist, firm body, his arms around me, sliding my housecoat up to touch my soft bare ass... I had to shook my head and looked away, turned, and knocked my glass of orange juice onto the floor.

"Shit!" I stood up suddenly, and then hurried to the sink to grab a towel.

"Need help mom?"

"No, just sit and eat your breakfast."

I knelt and began mopping up the juice. And then I looked up and through the forest of table legs and chair legs, I could see where his boxer shorts had ridden up his thigh and the head of his cock, shriveled and red, stuck out from beneath the plaid. I imagined crawling over there on my hands and knees, beneath the table, and just gently sucking it in, between my lips and against my tongue. Bringing him to full, agonizing hardness, even as my husband, his father, sat and read the editorials in the next chair over. So deliciously nasty.

And then the outrageousness of it hit me again. I picked up the towel and carried it to the laundry.

"I'm going out for a bit. I've got some errands to do," I called out. I got dressed and left.

I drove around aimlessly, just listening to the radio and thinking to myself. I tried to convince myself that things I was contemplating were evil, debauched and potentially dangerous, both to my marriage and to my psyche. But the more I thought about all those reasons why I shouldn't, the more it appealed to me. Trying to talk myself out of it was proving difficult. Maybe, reverse psychology would work.

After all, there was nothing really that taboo or exciting about fucking one's son. It was actually just a mediocre, bland act. It's not like I would be the first parent to screw their child. Why, I probably wouldn't even be the first on my street. Maybe Maude who lives two doors down fucks that goth-punk boy of hers all the time, chaining him up and riding him. Maybe Sing Chau has Jiang fuck her every morning over the kitchen table after breakfast every morning. Maybe Hogan was fucking Beatrice right now, while Bethovan and Beckin both watched, and maybe took turns sticking their dicks in her mouth. God! I took a hand off the steering wheel and gave my breast a hard squeeze.

The reverse psychology wasn't working. My mind, it seemed had already been made up without me really getting any say in the matter.

There was also the matter of how to actually get him. I tried to imagine myself simply sitting him down, telling him that I wanted him, and figured he wanted me, too. But I couldn't realistically see myself saying that. I imagined just slipping into his bed late one night. Hot, but again, not something I could imagine myself doing. I've always been somewhat timid in terms of action even if not when it comes to desires. No, I needed him to initiate it. I would simply tease him, flirt with him, make him so overcome with desire that he would have no choice but to come to me.

I decided to begin that night at dinner, selecting the shortest skirt I owned.

"Isn't that skirt a little short for a family dinner?" Hogan asked me as I was getting changed.

"You always used to like it," I said, calculating that any allusion to his sexual decline would end the conversation. He had no idea, of course, that I wasn't wearing panties.

We went to a nice restaurant called Fitzgerald's, and I ended up sitting across from Bethovan, through my own designs. I asked each of the children about their days, and let Hogan talk about his work. I played with my hair, gently touching behind my ear, and licked my lips, not making eye contact with Bethovan but hoping that he was watching me I assure that.

Then, just after our food arrived, I dropped my fork, letting it slide down my leg so that it actually landed over by Bethovan. "Oh, damn. Bethovan, would you grab mommy's fork?" I hadn't planned the words out, and it was completely by accident that I called myself mommy. I hadn't called myself mommy in the third person like that in years. But if Bethovan was turned on by the thought of incest, that's what I wanted to do, right? Draw attention to the fact that I was his own mother? Beethoven knelt to reach for the fork, and as his head disappeared beneath the table, I let my knees drift apart somewhat. Not too obvious. His head was down there for about five seconds, which isn't a long time, but longer than it takes to pick up a fork. That's it, I thought. Look between mommy's thighs. I bet you didn't know mommy works out.

I few minutes later, Bethovan dropped his fork, and again I let my thighs drift apart. When he did it the third time, I was asking Beckin about his plans for college next year. My hand was already in my lap, so I stroked my thigh in a gentle, distracted circle. I was sure Beethoven was looking now, and my pussy was growing wet at the thought. It was starting to look strange now with Bethovan dropping his for and his napkin all the time, I just smile in mind my plan is working so the next time Bethovan went down, I had my legs crossed. He didn't do it again through the meal. Because the others will notice his juvenile reactions under the table. The next morning, I slept in and by the time I got up, everyone had left. Or at least I thought so at first. Bethovan's door was closed and I opened it up a crack to see that Bethovan was still in bed asleep. This was the perfect opportunity to carry out the next phase of the seduction. I could go take a shower with the door open, or I could masturbate and make just enough noise that he could here me. That might be too much. I decided on the shower. Then the phone rang. I considered not answering, but when I saw it was Jesica calling, curiosity got the better of me.

"Oh my god, Sayonora. Jiang was over here again this morning. As soon as Rion left for church, he was here. I had pretended to be sick to get out of church. And we did it right on the stairs in the front entrance."

"That's great," I said, more interested in my own potential young stud than in Jesica's.

"I'm going to tell you all about it. Have you got time now?"

I thought for a moment, and then a devilish plan formed in my mind. "Come over and tell me. Nobody else is going to be home for a few hours and I want to hear every juicy detail."

I made us tea, and I put a batch of cookies into the oven, just as the doorbell rang. Loud enough to wake up Bethovan if he wasn't already awake. Perfect.

"So what's it like, fucking a young stud like Jiang?" I let myself talk loud enough that my voice would carry upstairs.

"Oh, it's so incredible. He's so strong, so athletic. And he's got the most gorgeous cock I ever seen."

I don't think I had ever heard Jesica say the word 'cock' or something before, but it was evident that our friendship was growing more intimate.

"And his balls are completely hairless it is very cute to see the balls. That's pretty hot. I asked him if he shaved them that way, like his head, and he said that no, they had always been hairless ."

"Mmmm, more fun to suck on, I bet." I had one ear turned toward the stairs, listening for any sound of Bethovan.

"Yeah!" Jesica's eyes gleamed, obviously excited that I was so interested and eager to listen to her.

"I mean, I had young guys when I was young," she continued. "And they weren't that good. But now that I'm older, more confident, I know what I like, I know how to control the situation."

I heard the tiniest creak from the direction of the stairs. The second one from the bottom always creaked. So now Bethovan was definitely within earshot.

"So tell me how it started. Did you initiate it?"

"No, you know me, I'm completely timid."

"Yeah, me too," I nodded.

"No, he had come over to return our weed-whacker; his father had borrowed it. And I asked him in for a lemonade. And I must admit, the first thing I thought when I saw Jiang there on the doorstep was sex. He's so well built. I've always wanted him."

"Yeah, me too."

"And he was sweating through his t-shirt."

"Mmmmmm," I let myself give a bit of a moan.

"And I was kinda flirting with him. I was mixing the lemonade with my back to him, and I was wiggling my ass a bit, just slightly, not sure if he'd notice. And then suddenly, he's behind me, pressing against me. So I push back, to reassure him that it's what I want. And then suddenly he's on his knees, licking the insides of my thighs, working his way up.

"Wow." I hoped Bethovan was hearing all of this. I hoped he was taking notes. "That's really daring of him. Most guys his age are so timid. Too bad there aren't more like him."

"Yeah, I wish you could have experienced it, Sayonora."

"You said on the phone you did anal?"

"Oh god yes. I'd never done it before. Have you?"

"No, but I really want to," I said. That wasn't entirely true. I didn't really want to, but I was willing to, if Bethovan was involved. I wanted Bethovan to think that his mother had no inhibitions.

"Yeah, he did me from behind in the shower, and then afterwards I spread my legs for him really wide, so that he could do sort of a anal missionary position thing."

"Did you taste his cum?"

"Mmmmmm, yes."

"Oh, I'm so envious of that. It's been so long since I've gotten to taste of cum. It used to be my favorite flavor in the world."

"Awwww, you poor thing."

"You have to do something for me sometime," I said.

"Sure."

"Sometime you've got to take his cum in your mouth, and then spit it into a little Tupperware container, and bring it over for me." It was such a lewd suggestion; I couldn't believe I asked it. Jesica seemed shocked, too. But she nodded.

"Okay, share the wealth."

"Wow, now I'm going to have to masturbate as soon as you leave."

"Okay, I should go then," Jesica asked. "Unless..."

"Unless what?"

Jesica looked embarrassed. "Unless you want to masturbate together. I mean don't get me wrong, I'm not a lesbian," she hurriedly added.

"No, me neither."

"I'm not even bi. I just thought you might want some company."

It was an unexpected proposition. I was really turned on, and this was something that would further intrigue Bethovan. On the other hand, I wasn't bisexual, and being with Jesica wouldn't really add anything for me.

"Yeah, I'd like that."

"Great, should we go up to your bedroom?"

I thought through the logistics, trying to determine where the best place for Bethovan to watch would be. "Let's use the sunroom, it's nice in there."

"Okay, go get your dildos," Jesica said, rising up from the couch.

"I don't have any."

"Oh dear. Well I know what to get you for Christmas!"

"Hang on," I said, heading into the kitchen. I heard Bethovan move quickly to keep out of my sight. Perfect. He must have been jacking off, listening to his mommy and another woman talk about sex so openly I assure he should jackoff. I grabbed a few things from the kitchen and met Jesica in the sunroom.

"What have you got there?" she asked me as she laid out a blanket on the floor.

"Olive oil. And a zucchini, a cucumber, and a Chinese eggplant."

"My god, Sayonora. I had no idea you were so... nasty!"

I shrugged, handing her the cucumber.

We each undressed ourselves, keeping it truly an experience of mutual masturbation, as opposed to any sort of lesbian experience. But I was able to appreciate Jesica's slender body and small breasts, so much the contrast to my large, voluptuous curves. And I saw her watching me similarly.

"Are you thinking about Jiang?" I asked her as she poured a bit of olive oil onto her fingers and began massaging her pubic bone. Her hair was blonde and thin, like a girl's quim.

"Yeah, just thinking about him going down on me, his talented tongue."

"Oh, I love a good tongue I said, leaning back and beginning to touch myself. The sun was coming in through the windows, warming the oil on the surface of my body. I snuck another peak at Jesica. She was massaging her breast with her other hand now.

"Your breasts must be really sensitive," I said. "I mean, I've heard that smaller breasts are generally more sensitive because they have a greater density of nerve endings."

"Yeah, I think that's true," she moaned as she said it. "Sometimes I can come just from breast play." She lay further down on the floor. "Okay, I think it's time to give this guy a try," she said, pouring the olive oil over the zucchini, and slowly sliding it against her pussy. I positioned myself where I could watch it slide between her girlish but experienced pussy lips. She stopped with it just a little way in, and laughed. "That's really big." But she continued, pushing it in deeper, until almost the whole vegetable had disappeared. And then slowly out again. I had never really watched anything slide in and out of a quim before, and I was amazed at what a beautiful sight it was.

"Okay, you're turn," she said, turning her head toward me. She continued to slide the zucchini in and out in long, slow strokes. I rubbed the long, slender purple eggplant up against my pussy, then slipped it inside. Jesica moaned as I did so.

"What did you say that was?"

"Chinese eggplant."

"Never seen one before. Much more phallic than a regular one. Where did you get it?"

"Chinese supermarket on twelfth."

"Oh, I might have to go and get you one."

"It feels fantastic," I nodded. "We can trade if you like."

"No, I'm good with mine." She had adjusted her pace, so that she was sliding her zucchini in and out at the same speed I was using.

"So what is it about a young man that's driving me so wild?" she asked me, her voice stretched thin with lust."

"I don't know, I guess it's a bit of taboo, plus you're both at the sexual peak."

"I think that's it, the taboo."

"Taboo is powerful," I nodded.

"Like this," she said. "Masturbating with vegetables in my best friend's sunroom."

"Yeah."

"Nasty."

"Yeah."

"Want to try something else?" she asked.

I nodded. "Anything."

"I saw this on a porno once. Not with a cucumber, but with a dildo." She took the zucchini out and slipped the cucumber inside her, then came over close to me, slipping her legs beneath mine, her hips moving close to mine. "Now, you put the other end in." I saw what she meant, and took the cucumber in one hand, guiding my cunt on top of it, but leaving it still inside her. I wondered if Bethovan was watching us. I hoped so I want he must watch this and try it with us..

We began to move, our pussies like two hungry beasts each trying to devour as much of the vegetable as possible. Well, slower at first, but it didn't take long until we were pulling all the way out, and slamming back together over the middle of the cucumber. Jesica moved a hand down to touch her clit, and then reached across to press it against my own, looking into my eyes for permission. By way of an answer, I reached out for her breast, giving it a gentle caress as I had seen her do to herself.

"Oh god, Jesica." I was still trying to think about Bethovan, thinking about him slamming his thick cock deep inside me, but I was becoming increasingly wrapped up in the moment.

"I take back what I said about not being bi," she moaned. "Kiss me."

We both leaned toward one another, the cucumber pressing deep inside me, and as her tongue entered my mouth, I felt myself exploding. I threw my arms around her, felt the telltale warmth at the base of my spine.

"You're coming," she moaned to me, pointing out the obvious, and then a moment later I felt her go taut as well. We collapsed to the blanket as she removed the cucumber. "Wow, I think you ejaculated."

I nodded, and motioned for her to lie down next to me. As hot as my incest fantasy was, this was pretty good, too. Maybe I could just be bi, and forget about trying to seduce Bethovan. I could have endless fun with Jesica.

But no, I had gone too far with teasing Bethovan to turn back. This had all been for him, the conversation, the masturbation.

"What are you going to do with the vegetables?" Jesica asked me, gathering them up.

"Make salad, of course."

"You're a pervert!" Jesica laughed. Then she leaned in close and kissed me. "I like that we should make it when we need ."

After Jesica left, I cleaned up the sunroom and got dressed, putting on a knee-length skirt, and made salad with the vegetables, chopping them up, adding a bit of onion and tomato, and cracked black pepper. And then I made a simple crab quiche to go along with it.

The front door slammed, and Bethovan yelled, "Hi Mom, I'm home." Yeah right, like you weren't right here watching every minute of it.

"Smells good," he said, coming into the kitchen. "What's for dinner?"

"Crab quiche and salad."

He took a fork, and went right for the salad, picking up a piece of cucumber, chewing on it thoughtfully. "Mmmm, I like the dressing. Tangy!"

I was a little surprised he'd be so blunt, but then he had no idea that I knew he had seen my entire encounter with Jesica. Very well, if he wanted to up the ante, I could play along. I took the fork from him, and took another piece of cucumber. "It's good, I said, but it needs a bit more salt." I looked him directly in the eyes, and tried to turn up the sultriness of my gaze. "It needs a little more salt, though." I saw his face turning flushed red. He knew exactly what I meant. "Can you add some salt to the salad for mommy?"

He was so embarrassed, but it looked like he was beginning to get his confidence up. This was going to be it. We were about to take an irretraceable step toward becoming lovers.

The front door slammed again.

"Fuck!" I looked away from Bethovan, my cuss giving away any pretense that this was a harmless exchange. A second later, Beatrice came into the kitchen. "What's for supper?"

"Crab quiche and salad."

"And for dessert?"

"Canned peaches. Do you want to go down and get some?"

"Okay." Beatrice trotted down the stairs, and I turned back to Bethovan. He was looking at me now, looking intensely, and looking back at him I felt my spine tingling. His blue eyes, almost identical to my blue eyes.

"I can't find them, mom!" Beatrice yelled from the basement.

"They're on the top shelf!" I yelled back. I wanted to kiss him right now, the hottest, most sexual kiss I could muster I want him very mad. I knew he wanted it too, even if we only had five seconds, it would be enough.

"They're not on the top shelf!"

"Yes they are, dammit!" I turned away from Bethovan and stormed downstairs. I took a chair into the cold-room where Beatrice was waiting, stepped up on top of it, and pulled a jar of peaches down from the top shelf. I had no right to be angry at Beatrice, so I took a deep breath before speaking. "They're right here, honey." I said softly.

"Sorry, I didn't see them."

"It's alright. Now, take them back upstairs."

I returned the chair and climbed slowly back up to the kitchen. Bethovan was gone. I knew I shouldn't be impatient. One can't expect to seduce one's own son in less than 48 hours. It might take as long as a week! But I had made a lot of headway in this short amount of time. And at some point, I had passed the point of no return. I don't know where exactly that point was, but it was down the rear-view mirror now. Everyone gathered around the kitchen table for dinner, and I avoided eye contact with Bethovan. I was still aroused at the thought of everyone eating the vegetables that had marinated in my pussy and Jesica's. I took some of the salad, and took a bite. To my surprise, it was quite salty, as well as tangy. And not just any quality of salt--it was that delicious masculine salt that I hadn't tasted in years.

"Thanks for helping with the salad, Bethovan."

"No problem."

"It tastes really good," Beatrice said. I grinned, wondering if she recognized the flavour, or whether it was a new taste for her. The thought of her eating her brother's juice was so hot to me, and I could feel myself getting wet again. I'd have to go masturbate again after dinner. When was the last time I was so sexed up? Such a long time.

Beckin had rented a movie to watch that evening, some coming of age comedy that I had never heard of. But everyone else seemed keen to watch it, so I agreed to watch, too. I sat in the armchair, while Beckin, Beatrice and Hogan sat on the couch. Bethovan sat in the beanbag chair on the far side of the couch, which was turned slightly toward me. I ended up just watching Bethovan, imagining wandering over there to the beanbag chair, straddling him, and pressing my breasts down to his lips, his face, smothering his whole face. Reaching down and feeling his cock within his jeans. Pulling it out, and beneath my skirt, gentle settling down on top of him, letting him enter me... Bethovan caught me looking at him, and I didn't look away. We just stared at each other, as we had in the kitchen earlier. I could see the slow change in his jeans, see the bulge grow and transform. Bethovan noticed where my gaze had traveled, and gave me a half-grin. In response I licked my lips, very slowly. I was getting so wet just from our illicit eye contract as our family sat between us, watching the film.

I dropped my hand into my lap, sliding it up my skirt and along the edge of my panties. Nobody could see where my fingers were over the edge of the armchair, but I knew Bethovan, watching me, could tell what I was doing. He slipped his hand into his pocket.

"Mom, can you get me some ice cream?" Beatrice asked.

"Can't you get some yourself," I asked, annoyed that every time Bethovan and I began to get aroused, she had interrupted us.

"I'll get it," Bethovan offered, standing. He still had his hand in his pocket, to mask what I was sure was a tremendous hard-on. "Who else would like some ice-cream?" He looked toward me, and now standing, he could see how I had my hand up my skirt. I fingered myself slowly staring straight at him. "Mom, would you like some?"

"Yes, honey, I would."

He went to the kitchen, and I heard the sound of the freezer opening. It took a few minutes for him to return, and I imagined what he might be doing. I fingered myself more vigorously, and a moment later, he returned. There was no longer a bulge in his pants, and when he handed me my bowl, I recognized immediately a glossy glaze over the ice cream.

It was a delicious combination of flavours, like old-fashioned ice cream that was naturally a little bit salty.

"Mmmm," I gave a moan of pleasure that could have been mistaken by most of my family as a simple enjoyment of food, but which would not be mistaken by Bethovan. "Yummy," I said, watching him as I ate, letting the ice cream melt in my mouth and linger with the cum, savouring the sensation of it running down my throat. I was so looking forward to drinking his sweet salty juice directly from the tap. Fresh ingredients always taste best. Bethovan was still watching me, so I put my finger into the bowl of ice cream, slipping a bit of his cum onto my fingertip, holding it up so that he could see, and then slipping my hand down between my legs. Of course, he couldn't see how I rubbed that bit of cum over my clit and into my pussy, fingering myself deep, but I'm sure he could imagine it. I couldn't stand it any more, I needed a shower to cool off, so I stood and left the living room, taking time to let Bethovan admire my ass as I strutted away from him and up the stairs.

Monday morning, I woke up at seven and went down to start breakfast, preparing some muffins. Hogan was already down at the table, reading the paper.

Bethovan came down soon after, looking cheerful and relaxed.

"You know Bethovan, now that you're on your own, maybe you need to learn a bit more about cooking," I suggested to him as I leaned over the table to clear Hogan's plate. I watched his eyes flicker between my face and my cleavage. "You know, women love men who can cook."

"Yeah, I've heard that."

"So do you want some lessons?"

"Huh?"

"You want mommy to teach you how to cook?"

He smiled. "Sure."

I had not intention of screwing him. Not consciously, anyway. There were so many other things that I wanted him to do for me, like jerking himself off for me, feeding me his cum on a spoon.

Hogan was still sitting at the table, but across the high counter, he could only see us from the chest up. Not that he was looking; he was too engrossed in the paper. He'd be leaving for work soon, anyway. Hogan couldn't see how, as Bethovan came into the kitchen, I handed him a wooden spoon, but not simply handing it to him; I took his hand in mine, turned it over, ran my hand from his wrist down into the palm. It was a large hand, but still soft and young, slightly boyish. I put the wooden spoon into his hand, guiding his fingers as they curled around the shaft.

"I'm going to get you to mix some batter for me. Don't hold it too tight. Sort of loose in your hand." He relaxed his grip, and I slid the wooden spoon in and out of his hand, fucking his boyish grip.

"We're going to be making a cake."

"For Beatrice's birthday?"

"Yes. We've got two days, so we'll bake the cake today, and then decorate it tomorrow. Now, start adding the ingredients."

I loved the juxtaposition. Baking a cake for my daughter while seducing my son. Multitasking a mother's duties to her family with a mother's darkest fantasies.

"Now, you're going to need some sugar, some flour, some butter..." I found a recipe for a nice light cake, and set it out before him. "Down to here. Mix these ingredients. I'm going to be making some bread. Be forewarned," I continued, "the kitchen tends to get really hot when you're doing a lot of baking." I took the bottom of my t-shirt, and looped it back through the neck and tied it, that fashion that the girls in music videos always wore, and it pulled the fabric tight over my breasts. I glanced down to see if my nipples were visible through the red shirt. Not yet, but they could be before long. I looked up, to see Bethovan watching me.

"Well, I'm off," Hogan said from the table beyond, and my heart began to race. With Hogan out of the house, Bethovan and I would have the place to ourselves until Beckin and Beatrice got home at three. How far would I go? I wasn't sure. Would I feel him through his pants? Would I get to see his cock? Hold it in my hands? Would I put his hands up my skirt, all the way up to where I had neglected to wear panties?

I began to mix up the flour and water beneath my own hands, forming it into a dough. Now was the moment to act, but my mouth was dry. We both dutifully worked on our tasks, our courage gone.

"So, how are things going at college?" I asked him at last.

"Pretty good. You saw my marks."

"Yeah, I was meaning your social life, though."

"Oh, that. Yeah, it's good. I go out to the bar on weekends, usually hang around the dorm on weeknights. We have movie nights, and we play street hockey."

"Sounds fun. How about girls?"

"Yeah, there's some girls who play hockey with us."

"Are you dating anyone?"

Bethovan paused for a moment before answering. "There was a girl I was dating for the first half of the semester. But she dropped out and moved home to Vancouver when her mother died."

"Oh, I'm sorry. That must have been hard on you," I offered sincerely. I knew how much it hurt when a lover moved away. "Are you seeing anyone now?"

He shrugged. "I go on a few dates, nothing serious."

"That's good. Casual sex is one of the best things about college."

Bethovan looked up surprised, but smiling slightly. I felt relief that at last I had gotten the conversation back to sex.

"That's what it is, isn't it?" I asked him. "I've been to college, I know how it is."

"Yeah, it's fun," Bethovan admitted. There's some girls the dorm across the street. Three in particular, they come over and David and Chris and I, they come into our room after hours."

"Mmmmm, group sex," I smiled, looking across the counter at him.

"Not exactly. We each have our own, it's more like parallel sex."

"So you can watch each other while you're doing it?"

"Yeah."

"And you like that?"

He smiled, shy and embarrassed.

"You're quite the voyeur," I said, hoping to bring the conversation around to him watching Jesica and I the other day. Again, he didn't respond, he simply blushed more furiously.

"It's alright, I really like watching, too. I was pretty wild when I was in college. I even went to some orgies."

"Really?"

I couldn't believe I was telling my son about these experiences. "Yeah. Guys would line up for my blowjobs. I was famous."

"Does Dad know... that you've done that?"

"He does. We met at an orgy. I had seen him around campus and thought he was pretty cute, but we had never spoken. And then I'm at this professor's house and it's kinda late and we were all screwing one another, you know how it is. And I still remember it so clearly; I was on my hands and knees, going down on this black girl who was on the couch. And then suddenly a big dick slips into my ass, and I turn around and it was your father."

"Wow."

"That was such a long time ago," I say, still lost in the memory. I had once been such a wild girl, and Hogan had been a wild guy, but all of that had changed. I was just trying to capture some of that back.

"You and dad, you don't do it anymore, do you?" Bethovan asked, and I turned my attention back to him, my chance to re-embrace that girl I was 20 years ago. Maybe do something that girl would never have imagined.

I shook my head in answer to his question, and we were both silent.

"I think this is mixed up," he said.

"Bring it over here."

He brought the batter over to me, and I gave it a quick stir, checking the consistency. "Pretty good. You'll have to let it sit for a bit now."

"Okay."

He went to the fridge and poured himself a glass of milk.

"You were asking about my sexual experiences earlier," he said hesitantly, so much more timid than the boy who had ejaculated on my ice cream the previous night. I wondered why he was so tentative, why I was so tentative. Maybe because being alone, there was nothing to hold us back, so we held ourselves back.

I nodded, encouraging him to continue.

"Valerie and I, she's the girl who moved home, sometimes we have phone sex."

"Really?" I was genuinely surprised. It was something I had never done, but the thought of it really struck a chord with me. "You mean, you masturbate, she masturbates, and you talk about it."

"Yeah."

"What sort of things do you say?" I wanted him to say something dirty to me. Say something nasty to his mother.

"You know, I tell her what I would do to her, what I would want her to do to me."

I was eager for details. "Like what?"

"Well, I might tell her that I want to perform oral sex on her while she kisses my penis."

"But that's not how you would say it."

"Well, no."

"So what would you say?"

"Well, I might tell her that I want her to put her pussy on my face and let me slip my tongue inside her while she wraps her soft lips around my cock," he said it softly, watching my reaction, as though afraid I might be offended. Instead, I bit down on my lip, and let it slowly slide between my teeth, a gesture I knew would demonstrate how turned on I was.

"And then would she say something like how she just wanted to grind her pussy into your face?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"And would she tell you what she was wearing? Would she say that I she was wearing a red t-shirt, a long blue skirt, and no panties underneath?" I asked, describing my outfit.

"Really?" he asked, catching my meaning.

"Well, I don't know, that's something I might say if I was having phone sex. And then I'd tell him to unbutton his jeans."

Bethovan looked like he wasn't sure whether that was a flirt or an order. "I would ask her what she intended to do once I took my jeans off."

"I would move around behind you," I said, dropping just a bit more of the pretense. "Drop down to my knees, focus on your gorgeous young ass, run my hands over it, stroke the crack..." as I spoke, I was shaping the dough beneath my hands into two life-sized as cheeks, lovingly smoothing them, take a finger and pressing it gently down into the crack.

"So, will you take them off?"

"Really?"

"Really," I said, dead serious.

Bethovan gulped, and turned his back to me, and began to undo his belt. He looked back over his shoulder, as though checking for my approval. So suddenly modest. I raised my hand and gave my breast a little squeeze, showing him there was no mistaking my intention. While my face was calm and confident as I could make it, inside I was freaking out, to use my daughter's phrase. Again, I asked myself how far I was prepared to go. Bethovan's jeans slid down his legs, and his boxer shorts, too. His ass was right in front of me, only a few feet away. He didn't look back over his shoulder again. He just waited for me.

I wanted to run, or at least get a drink of alcohol, but this moment was too fleeting. I might not get up the nerve again. So I dropped down to my knees, and crawled quietly across the kitchen floor, coming up behind him.

"You're a good boy for doing what your mommy tells you." He didn't say anything, but he shivered as I brought my mouth close, and I knew he could feel my breath. "And you've got a sexy ass."

I reached up as high as I could, and put my hands on his shoulders, slowly sliding them down his back, feeling his young muscles. Gorgeous. I was imagining our rolls reversed, him behind me, his broad back arched as he pressed against me. I couldn't resist any more, and I pressed my tongue against the very top of his ass cleavage. He moaned and shook a bit.

"I love a nice, sexy ass. Do you?"

He moaned again, whispered that he did. "I mean, a girl's ass," he quickly added. Not a guy's ass, not my own."

"A girl's ass. Yes, girls have lovely asses, too. Have you ever fucked a girl up the ass?"

He was quiet, but looked up and could tell he was shaking his head. I kissed my way further down. "You keep your ass nice and clean, don't you? Do you want to fuck an ass?" I asked as I ran my hands up the insides of his thighs. "Wouldn't that be nasty, seeing your cock slipping between two soft ass cheeks?" He was silent, but again I could tell he was nodding. "Hang on a second, don't move."

I went back to the counter and took the dough ass I had been shaping with my hands. "I've got an ass you can fuck," I said moving back behind him, standing now. Obviously he would have thought I meant my own, and while I liked the thought of him pounding me from behind, I still wanted to draw this out more.

"Here's an ass for you." I reached in front of him, the dough ass in my hands. Bethovan looked down and laughed. He was taller than me, so I couldn't see over his shoulder, but I grazed the dough against his cock. And felt him stir.

"There's some olive oil on the counter," I said. "Never fuck an ass without lubing up first."

Bethovan reached for the oil, and I heard the gentle sound of him stroking his cock.

"That's better," I said, running the crack of the ass along the bottom of his cock. "Mmmmm, yeah, that's real good."

Then I stopped stroking, and pushed the dough down against him, his cock forging it's own hole into the mound of dough. He moaned out loud, and I pressed myself against his back. Through the dough, I could feel his cock. I pulled the dough off of him, and then on again, slowly and gently. "You like that? You like fucking an ass while mommy presses against you from behind? You want to fuck Valerie's ass while mommy presses against you? Of would you rather fuck mommy's ass?" I asked him, kneading the dough in my hands, swirling it around his cock. "Huh?" I asked him when he didn't answer. "Do you want to fuck mommy's ass?"

"Yes."

"Say it."

"I want to fuck mommy's ass."

I moaned, trying to hold back just a bit. "But that would be incest, wouldn't it?" His cock felt so large through the dough. "That would be a filthy, dirty, horrible sin. And we'd both end up going to hell, wouldn't we? You don't want mommy to go to hell?" I doubted Bethovan believed in hell any more than I did, but I couldn't help emphasizing the taboo. Maybe I'd be able to hold back, just stay at this level, itself a rich and dark taboo.

"I want to fuck you, mom."

"I know you do, Bethovan."

"Please?"

"Not yet, baby. Not yet. Just cum for me. You know mommy loves your cum. That was such a nasty thing you did for mommy last night, putting your cum on her ice cream. That got me so hot."

"Oh mom."

"That's it, baby. Cum for me."

"OH MOM!"

I pushed my hand through the dough, found the cavity his cock and carved out, and felt his tender, thin skin for the first time. I wrapped my hand around him, felt the pulsations as he shot the dough full of his ejaculate. It was hot on my wrist.

He turned around, and I saw his naked front for the first time, his cock still wrapped in dough, and my hand still pressed through the dough, too. It looked like some work of modern art and I laughed.

Bethovan laughed too, short, gasping laughs strung together with words. "That was the hottest thing ever."

"Yeah," I said, as I took the dough in both hands and squeezed it around his cock, making sure I got every last drop, and then slipping it off. And I looked on his cock for the first time. It was still fairly rigid--the orgasm seemed to have done little to abate it. It was maybe seven inches, maybe a bit more. When you're right down there with a cock, imagining it inside you, it always looks so impossibly huge.

"So, what now?" Bethovan asked me, suddenly sober and straight-faced. The reality of what we had just done hit me, too.

"I don't know, Bethovan." I took his hand. "I guess we should think about what we've done and decide where we go from here."

He nodded. "I'm sorry, mom."

I gave his hand a squeeze, and then leaned in close, planting a kiss on his cheek. "Don't be, honey. This was my fault, for better or for worse. I was feeling desperate, I decided I wanted to seduce you." I looked away, annoyed at myself. It would have been better to leave it as a fantasy. The more real it became, the more painful and difficult.

"Do you..." Bethovan appeared to have difficulty asking this next question. "Do you have a food fetish? I mean, with the vegetables, and the ice cream, and now the dough?"

I smiled, and considered the question. Bethovan didn't even know about how I had masturbated at my private dinner last week.

"Yes, I guess I do."

Bethovan nodded.

"Does that shock you?"

"It surprises me a little. I never would have thought that about you. Like you going to orgies when you were in college. I wish I had a girlfriend who was that uninhibited."

I gave him a big grin. "Well you do now. At least, a secret girlfriend. If you want her."

"Oh mom," Bethovan took me in his arms and gave me a big kiss, passionate and wet, full of soft young lips and a daring tongue that sought out my own.

His hands moved down my back, to where my spine was bare with my t-shirt knotted up. He pulled me against him, and I could feel the warmth of his lovely dick through my skirt, pressed against my navel. The doorbell rang.

"Shit," I said. I contemplated not answering, but whoever it was rang again, and finally I broke down and went to answer, looking back over my shoulder as Bethovan put his pants back on.

I opened the door and there was Jesica, a tight-lipped smile on her face. I asked her how she was doing, but she just continued to smile, slipping past me into the foyer. When the door closed, she flung her arms around me and gave me a big kiss. I was so surprised that I didn't open my lips at first, but as I did so, I tasted a delicious slick go from her mouth. Cum. It was sticky and warm, and probably somewhat diluted by her saliva. She pursed her lips to push more of the cum into my lips, and I sucked it down.

"Wow, what was that?" I said, when she at last let me catch my breath.

"You said you wanted to taste Jiang's cum. So there it is. And that's fresh, not five minutes old."

"It's yummy," I said softly. "But you might want to keep your voice down. Bethovan's here."

"Oh!" she looked embarrassed. "Speaking of hot young men," she whispered, and I pretended to look offended, smiling secretly to myself.

A moment later, Bethovan trotted down the stairs. "Hi Mrs. Rise. How're you?"

"Bethovan! I haven't seen you in years. And call me Jesica, now that you're a grown man and all."

I nudged Jesica. "Cum on your lip," I whispered. She turned, giggling to herself, and then turned back. "So how's college?"

"It's good. I'm doing well in all my studies."

"Yeah? That doesn't surprise me. You were always good in school."

"Thanks," he said, not looking at her. He was looking at me, and I could tell exactly what he was thinking... He was thinking about fucking my ass. I wasn't ready yet.

"Jesica," I said, turning to my friend. "Do you want to stay for lunch?"

I fixed up some leftovers and we sat down for lunch, Bethovan and I across from each other and Jesica at the head of the table. Jesica talked about her pet dogs, basset hounds.

Under the table, I reached across with my foot, slipping it into Bethovan's lap. I felt right away the hardness between his thighs, and he looked at me with wide eyes, and then grinned. I rubbed him in long strokes with my foot. I felt a hand touch my foot, and while that in itself didn't surprise me, it did surprise me to both of Bethovan's hands above the table. But Jesica's right hand was below the table, and I could see now from the angle of her arm that it could very well be in Bethovan's lap. There was nothing I could do. Bethovan and I looked across at each other helplessly as Jesica touched my foot again, this time feeling along the bones, finding the ankle, connecting it to my knee, my thigh. Of course, she could not say anything about it--she was the one who put her hand in my son's lap.

She moved her hand further up, grazed the hairs on the lips of my pussy, and felt my wetness. For a moment I thought she might slip her finger in right there, but she suddenly pulled away, awkward and rushed. "I just remembered I have something in the oven. I need to get going." Bethovan and I looked at each other as she headed for the door. I had taken a risk and we had gotten caught, but I wasn't sure how much damage had been done.

I watched through the window by the door as Jesica walked down the driveway and across the street, giving a glance back toward my house. She looked a little shocked and confused. I heard Bethovan's footsteps behind me, felt his hands rest on my hips with a gentle urgency.

"Will she tell anyone?"

I shook my head. "No."

"Mom?"

"Yes sweety?"

"I can't handle the teasing any more. I really, really need you."

I sighed. Part of me sighed with resignation, part of me sighed with relief at the inevitability. One last try. I would make one last try to talk myself and Bethovan out of it. He was pressing against me now; I could feel the warmth and firmness of his cock against the small of my back.

"Have you thought about how far it's going to go?" I asked him.

"You mean having sex?"

"I mean beyond that. Casual sex is easy enough. It would be hot; it would be taboo. But what happens if, you know, we develop feelings for each other."

"I already love you though, mom."

"You might love me, but you're not yet in love with me. Have you thought about how that will fuck you up for life? For me, it's okay. I'm in a hopeless marriage. I can acquire baggage without fearing that it's going to hurt me later. Except that at some point you're going to meet the right girl, fall in love with her, and you'll have to move beyond loving your mother. And that's going to hurt like hell for me."

His hands moved up my shirt, gently grazing against my breasts. I arched my back, forcing my tits into the warmth of his hands.

"I dunno, mom. I guess you should have thought of that before you started seducing me."

I nodded. He was right. There was no way this wasn't going to lead to a whole lot of hurt for me at some point. Be in now or in a few days or in a few years. I'd regret making love to him, and I'd regret not making love to him. He had found my nipples through the fabric, and was squeezing them gently between thumb and forefinger.

"It's time for you to put your sister's cake in the oven. Go do that and then come back to me. After that, no more teasing, darling. I promise."

He slowly detached himself from me. I was going to make love to my son. I needed to decide where. Right here against the door? The kitchen floor, the living room sofa? I could have him in the shower, on the stairs, in my bed, in his bed...

Yes, that was the fantasy: fucking him in the bed he had slept in since childhood, where I had read him bedtime stories, tucked him in, helped him get dressed. I turned and slowly walked up the stairs, and as Bethovan came back into the hallway, I looked back at him over my shoulder, my gaze indicating I wanted him to follow.

I began unbuttoning my shirt as I climbed, letting it slide down off my shoulders. "Do you want to suck mommy's tits like you did when you were a baby?"

"Yes," Bethovan said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

I turned into his bedroom, and he followed behind me. I sat down on the bed, and watched him, again cautious and hesitant. I stroked the bed beside me. "Come lie down, put your head in mommy's lap."

He laid down on the bed, his head on my lap, looking up at me with those big blue eyes. "I want you to know, Bethovan, that I really want this."

"I want it too, mom."

I leaned forward slightly, so that my breasts, clad in a simple white bra, brushed against his face. He closed his eyes and moaned softly. My nerves tingled with the delicate sensation, and my nipples rose to firm heights, even through the bra. I took my left breast in my hand, guided it down so that the nipple rubbed against his parted lips. He responded instinctively, and I felt his saliva soaking into the fabric of my bra. His hand moved up my back, found the clasp of my bra and unhooked it. I shrugged my shoulders forward, letting the bra slide down. I tossed it to the floor, and brought my breasts down to him again, this time naked to the touch of his lips, the surprisingly coarse grain of his teenaged cheeks.

"You're making your mother so horny," I said. "I love to have my nipples sucked. I ran my hand down his chest and then back up, unbuttoning each button with a slight awkwardness. His chest felt good, solid and muscled. I licked my fingertips, and touched them to his own nipples. They responded in their own modest way. Then I slipped my hand lower, daring to slide it flat against his navel and beneath the thick leather belt of his jeans, beneath even the elastic of his underwear, over the soft curls of air, and gripping his firm, solid shaft. It felt so good in my hand, suprising me with it's thickness.

Bethovan gasped, and raised his head to look down, as though needing visual confirmation that his mother's hand was, indeed, down the front of his pants. He looked back up at me, his eyes wide in awe. I smiled down.

"You've got a magnificent cock, Bethovan."

"Bigger than dad's?"

I thought of telling him how massive his father's cock was, larger than anyone I've ever had. A pornstar cock. But that wasn't what Bethovan needed to hear.

"The biggest I've ever had," I lied. It was impressively large, though. Probably the second biggest I've had. Big enough to fill me. Big enough to stretch my long-ignored pussy wide until the edges of pain, to probe me deeper than my fingers ever went.

I unfastened his jeans and turned, climbing onto my knees, using both hands to slide his pants down around his ankles. My hips were above his head, affording him a good view up my skirt.

"You aren't wearing any panties, mom!"

"I did that just for you."

His hands moved up and down my thighs, going higher each time, until he began to delicately graze the hairs of my cunt. I imagined that the girls he screwed at college were still fairly thinly haired, or maybe shaved like in those magazines. I had never bothered with grooming my pussy, though. The hairs above my quim were a thick, black thatch. I hoped he wouldn't mind. He pulled my hips down, and I leaned back, sitting directly upright, just above his face.

I felt his tongue gently exploring my pubic bone, the hollows on either side of the pussy. I loved that he didn't dive right in, that he took the time to build me up a bit more, first. And then he was at my clit, pressing his tongue firmly against it.

I laughed, remembering how, when he was a kid, he had been able to touch his nose with his tongue. Never did I imagine I'd be the beneficiary of that tongue.

He asked me what was so funny. So I told him, and he laughed too. And then he slid his tongue inside me. Deep inside me. It was so warm, so quick. I ground my hips down against his face, feeling his chin against my clit.

"You're so good," I moaned out.

He moaned something in response, but I couldn't hear, his words were muffled by my pussy. I lifted up a bit so he could speak.

"Tell me what you want. Any position at all, Bethovan. On top of you, on my hands and knees, standing, anything," I gasped. "I need you inside me."

"Doggy style," he said.

I ground my hips down against him again, imagining it. "Yeah, fuck me like a dog. You want to make mommy your bitch?" The dirty words coming out of my own mouth were driving me wild. "I wanna get fucked by my own pup. I wanna feel his sperm, his seed inside me."

I slipped off of Bethovan's face, and slid down to the floor, crawling on my hands and my knees across the carpet. I had a brief thought that I would get horrible carpet burns from this.

Bethovan was behind me quickly, his hands under my skirt again, rubbing my quim with his whole hand.

"You're so wet, mom."

"I'm so ready for you, dear. Now get it the fuck in me."

He did as I asked. I was amazed how easy he slipped in. He was so big, but he fit me like a hand in a glove. A long, smooth stroke, until he was lodged all the way inside me. I could feel his hip-bones against my ass.

"My god," Bethovan said in amazement. He didn't move. He just held himself inside me. I didn't want him to move. Not yet. I was just enjoying the pleasure of being so filled.

"I feel like if I move at all, I'm going to cum," Bethovan said.

"Already?" I was disappointed. I wanted to make this last.

"Don't worry," he said, apparently catching my disappointment. "I'll be able to keep going even after I cum."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

I began to squeeze him gently with my hips. Just gently squeezing around his girth, and then releasing. I could feel him pulsing in reaction. And then a sharp intake of breath.

"That's it Bethovan. Shoot your cum deep inside your mommy's pussy. You know how she wants it." He didn't say anything as he came, but I felt the power of his orgasm as it washed over him. I felt it as his throbbing muscle shuddered inside me, and I felt it has his warm seed spread out inside me. "God, Bethovan," I moaned, looking over my shoulder. "I can feel your cum in me." He looked back at me with those gorgeous eyes, and slowly began to slide in and out, his cock still hard and eager. That's the best part about young lovers... the endless stamina. I purred and pushed my hips back against him, feeling his cum now flowing down my pussy, lubing his passage into me. I reached down between my legs, let some of it drip onto my fingers, and then raised it to my lips and tasted our mingled juices.

Bethovan's hands roamed over my back, his fingertips running over my ribs, and then to my shoulders, massaging my back with his hands. It felt good, but I wanted the intensity heightened. "Harder," I whispered roughly. "Fuck mommy hard." His hand immediately went to my hair, grabbed a handful of my black locks, and pulled hard at it, forcing my neck back, as he pulled out sharply and then slammed his cock back inside me.

"Oh yes!" I cried out, my spine tingling as he slammed in harder with each thrust. With each thrust, he pulled at my hair, forcing my willing hips back against him. His other hand dropped around me to grab roughly at my breasts, and then slide down and touching my clit with suprising gentleness. My knees stung from the carpet. "Make your mommy cum, honey."

"Yes, mommy. I want you to. I want to make you cum so hard."

I slumped forward, my face against the carpet, thrusting my ass up against him.

"You're so beautiful, mom. I've wanted you for so long. As long as I can remember." Suddenly his hand let go of my hair, slid down my back, and then a finger slipped into my ass. That drove me over the edge. I screamed out to him, screamed out his name, silently praying that the house was still empty. He pushed forward and down, pushed me down flat on my stomach, into the carpet. I felt his whole weight bearing down through his cock, deep inside me. My son inside me. My son's finger in my ass. My son's toes digging into the backs of my knees. His mouth biting down on my shoulder.

"You're making mommy come so hard," I cooed gently, still riding out the spasms of my orgasm.

"I'm going to cum again, mom."

I shook my head. "Take it out of me."

"But I want to cum."

I shook my head again. "Take it out and cum on my face like the porn stud you are."

That got him out of me, and I rolled over, sliding down between his legs. He stood for a moment, looking down at me as I licked my lips, silently begging for his juices. Then he knelt, raised my head with one hand, and with the other, squeezed the shaft of his cock. I could see the bottom of it pulsating, and closed my eyes a second before I felt his hot cream spurting onto my face.

"Oh mom!"

I opened my mouth wide, felt more cum landing on my tongue. "That's it, cum for mommy," I said, unable to stop grinning. He collapsed on top of me, his breath heavy and slow. I licked the cum off my lips and slowly opened my eyes.

"Kiss me," I said.

He did so, slipping his tongue between my lips. I hadn't swallowed yet, and I let him slip his tongue through his own cum. He lapped it up, and then raised his head above me, parted his lips, and let his cum slide again into my mouth. This time I let it go right down my throat.

"That's so hot, Bethovan."

"I know, mom. You should see yourself in the mirror."

I rolled over. There was a floor-to-ceiling mirror only a few feet away, and I could see my face covered in long beads of cum. "I hear this makes great face cream," I said, gently rubbing my cheeks with my hands, massaging the sperm into my skin. "What do you think?" I asked, turning to Bethovan.

"Very shiny. Very beautiful," he said.

I sat up, and he gave me a big, warm hug. "I hope," he said, a touch of nervousness returning to his voice, "that we can do that again."

I smiled at him. "Well, you still have more cooking lessons tomorrow." I looked up at his bedside clock. "Speaking of which, you better go check on the cake. Stick a fork in it. If it sticks to the fork when you pull the fork out, it needs more time. If the fork comes out clean, it's done."

Bethovan began getting dressed, and I did the same. I couldn't find my shirt, but then I remembered I had taken it off on the stairs. I went out into the hallway to the stairs to look for it, but it wasn't there, which was odd. It must have been somewhere in Bethovan's room. I went and found a different shirt from my closet, taking a moment to look at myself again in the mirror. The skin on my face was indeed shiny and smooth from my son's lotion.

We had leftovers for dinner, and every time I looked across the table at Bethovan I would get distracted and horny. It was so bad that I could feel myself getting wet, and whenever I moved my thighs, they slid wetly against one another. Every time I closed my eyes I saw Bethovan looking deep into my eyes, and when I opened my eyes he was there, staring at me too. My knees stung from the rug-burns.

In the evening, I went upstairs early, claiming I needed a bath. Truth was I was too horny to think. Part of me was shocked that I didn't feel guilt or regret. But the sex had been so good, so hot and intense that I couldn't think negatively about it. I undressed in my room, and opened the drawer to get my nightgown. Inside was a letter. The envelope just said, "Mom."

How sweet, a love letter from my Bethovan. I slipped on my nightgown and took the letter with me to the bathroom. What dirty things did he have to say? I could sit in the tub, read his letter, and masturbate. That would be a good end to the evening.

I sunk into the tub, keeping my fingers dry for the time-being so as not to smudge the letter. But as I unfolded it, I recognized immediately that the writing was not Bethovan's. It was Beckin's.

Dear Mom;

I'm sorry for putting this in a letter, but I couldn't imagine any other way to talk to you about it. We were let out of school early today, and I came home around 2:30. When I came home, I found your blouse on the stairs, and I heard sounds coming from Bethovan's room. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I couldn't help hearing what you and Bethovan were saying and doing. You don't need to worry, I have no intention of telling anyone. I just felt that it was important for you to know that I know. I guess you're probably lucky that it was me that came home early and not Dad. By the way, I put your shirt in the laundry hamper.

xxoo

Beckin

I put the letter on the floor and sunk down into the tub. Shit. Beckin was right, we had been careless. Beckin knew, and Jesica probably suspected. That was two people more than should know about us. Could I trust Beckin to keep a secret? I wasn't sure. He was an awkward guy, 19 years old and just about to go away to college, but still having little of the maturity that Bethovan had. But no, I trusted him. I tried to put it out of my mind, focusing on Bethovan's gorgeous cock at my lips, in the seconds before he came on my face. My pussy responded, opening up to my fingers. But then I found myself imagining Beckin, sitting on the floor outside Bethovan's room, his pants open, stroking himself with my silk blouse. Listening to his mother and his brother fucking. What had he heard? What had I said? I had told Bethovan to fuck me like a dog, told him to make mommy his bitch. How embarrassing! Still, it would have turned Beckin on so much. He would have been imagining himself fucking me from behind.

A new scenario began to visualize in my mind: I stand in the kitchen, alone. Beckin comes in, and I can see right away that he has an erection beneath his corduroy pants. He tells me he heard. He knows how Bethovan and I were fucking, he heard it all, he even tape-recorded some of it. And he tells me he'll tell dad... send the tapes to him at work. Unless I get down on my knees right now and suck his cock. So I do.

I masturbated as I imagined all of this, my pussy opening up so wide that my fingers were becoming ineffectual. I took a slender shampoo bottle and slipped the head inside myself. Much better. I imagined my geeky younger son blackmailing me, fucking me up the ass, making me fuck him in the back of the minivan when I picked him up from school. Making me fuck all his friends too, all of them equally geeky, but so horny and so eager to cum all over me. My muscles went taut, and I gritted my teeth as my orgasm swept over me. The water seemed to have gone cold, and I sat in the tub, shaking. The reality was that now that I had Bethovan, I wanted Beckin, too. Fuck, I was becoming a whore to my children. Would I end up wanting Beatrice, too? Her strong, athletic volleyball body, her pussy, which I suspected was probably virgin... I swore at myself, and hurriedly climbed out of the tub.