Homelands Pt 1 Ch 11 free porn video

I looked up from my computer screen asTara, the Executive Manager, walked by. Suddenly, filing tax returns was the farthest thing from my mind. She wore a khaki skirt that, despite reaching almost to her knees and in that sense being nominally professional, also tightly hugged her hips and round ass. Her black blouse had only one button open, but was also absurdly tight. It did nothing to hide the way her full breasts bounced as she walked.

Jack, the one attorney on the payroll, looked over at me from the opposite cubicle. "Only good thing about working here," he said. "Even the management is smoking hot. If only they wore the same outfits the models did."

I lowered my voice. "You said it, man."

The three models, Brianna, Natalie and Skye, were all amazing. And, as Jack said, the management types were no harder on the eyes. Besides Tara, there was Iva, the VP of Design; the Senior Vice President, Ellen, who was a VP only in the sense that she was married to the President and liked to feel involved; and Cindy, the administrative assistant, who really ran the place.

The women came in a decent variety of shapes and sizes, though all were attractive enough. There were younger women and more mature ones. There were brunettes, blondes, and redheads. Most of the women were breathtakingly pale. Some guys weren't into that, but it really did it for me. But some were not fair-skinned. Natalie often tanned, and Skye was half-black. Some were short, most average height, and Skye was pretty tall. Some were very thin. Some were top-heavy. Some had great lower bodies. A few even had the full package.

All in all, going to work provided plenty to fantasize about. But I couldn't fully agree with Jack that this was the best thing about working there. It was almost impossible to get work done with that bevy of beauties parading around the office.

"Too bad she's also a raging bitch though," Jack said, still referring to Tara. "Sometimes, I wish I could take out the stick that's been shoved up her ass. Replace it with something else, long as I'm at it."

"A-fucking-men to that. On both counts."

Just then, my phone rang. Jack looked like he'd been about to elaborate on what he'd like to do to Tara, but covered his mouth and mouthed an apology.

It was Ellen. Unsurprisingly, she wanted to see me in her office. I assured her I'd be right up, dropped the phone back in its cradle, and swore under my breath. They'd been riding me hard about annual financial report for weeks. It wasn't even September yet. A whole month left in the fiscal year. I prepared myself to do my best "yes, ma'am"ing.

But as soon as I got to her office on the executive level, I realized I'd been mistaken somehow. Her blinds were closed. They were never closed. Perhaps she didn't want to talk about the annual report after all.

Heart racing, I opened the door to her office, which was also never closed.

Ellen sat atop her desk, one leg folded over the other. Her thighs could not be that thick. Not on a woman with that frame. It just didn't make sense. Her waist-to-hip ratio was, I felt sure, literally impossible. Like Tara, her black skirt and brick red blouse covered everything they should cover, but were stretched almost to the limit by her mind-boggling curves.

"Thanks for coming. Mind closing the door?" A shoe dangled from one of her pretty little feet, propped up by her toes. Her calf muscles rippled underneath her stockings.

I did as she asked.

Ellen tossed her inky black hair over her shoulder. I was pretty sure she was at least twenty years my senior, but you'd never know it unless you stared real closely. As, of course, I often did. There were slight hints of age at the corners of her eyes and her mouth, but her hair was as glossy and vibrant as a younger woman's, and her skin was firm. She either wore miraculously effective bras or gravity had not yet caught up to her enormous melons.

"...so I guess what I'm asking is how comfortable you are with keeping a secret."

"Perfectly comfortable," I said.

"Well, that was incredibly reassuring." Ellen slipped off the desk. "Let's come at this from a different angle."

"Okay...."

She unbuttoned the second button of her blouse. "Do you find me attractive?"

"I assume that's a rhetorical question."

She smiled. "Indulge me."

"Your husband is a very lucky man," I said.

"Maybe. But he doesn't seem to think so. Hasn't paid any attention to me in forever."

"That's a shame," I said, keeping my voice flat.

She smiled wanly. "In fact, he's having an affair. I'm not even sure he cares if I know that he's been balling his secretary for months now. And probably not just her. I've seen how he looks at Iva. So I've started looking elsewhere myself. I've cheated on him more than a few times. But, so far, not with anyone he knew."

"Good for you," I said.

"And for you. If you want it to be," she said.

I didn't reply. But I very deliberately made sure that my body language did not provide even the slightest hint of nerves. I wanted her to think that I could take it or leave it.

"Okay, so here's the plan. Tonight, after work, there are going to be some stiff dicks inside me. Yours can be one of them. Or you can just watch on your computer, since I'll be using a webcam. Or maybe you want to watch for a while first, then join. Whatever.

"Either way, you should stay in the office late and wait for my email. If you decide that jerking off in your office while watching me be a filthy slut is enough for you, that's fine. But I do hope that you decide to join."

"I'll keep that in mind," I said.

"Hopefully I'll see you later on then," she said, buttoning up her blouse once more.

"Maybe. We'll see what kind of mood I'm in," I said.

My back already turned, I couldn't see what I was sure was a priceless look on her face. But the exasperated huff and mumbled curses told me all I needed to know.

#

As I sat at my desk waiting for the email to arrive, something nagged at me. It wasn't just that it was the boss's wife. That was fine with me, even though it shouldn't have been. Something else that had my palms slick with sweat, my foot tapping incessantly.

I couldn't say what it was though.

That is, until the email finally arrived and I clicked on the link. As I watched the blurry image of a woman being spit-roasted by two gigantic black cocks, it came to me.

Ellen was my mother.

I wasn't sure how I knew at first. And then I couldn't figure out how I hadn't known.

Weirdly, I was still hard as a rock.

I wasn't proud of that. But the truth was, it turned me on even more.

On some level, I felt like I would be just as disgusting and fucked-up a person if I sat there and jerked off while watching my mother get tag-teamed by the twins as I would be if I went upstairs and joined in. But of course that was crazy. However weird it was to be turned on by watching it, and it was weird, there was no way that compared to participating.

It wasn't guilt then that made me decide to stay at my desk, even though I'd been planning all evening on joining in.

Perhaps part of it was that I didn't feel like trying to compete with the twins, Vince and Ismail. They made the guys that populated most women's fantasies look bland. Much as I'd like to pretend I didn't find them intimidating, I absolutely did.

Even so, my other motivation, the one I told myself was the most prominent one, was to play hard to get. It had seemed to work well earlier. So I figured that the odds were that if I played my cards right, I'd have her all to myself later that night.

And horny as fuck to boot.

I had no interest in pretending that did not appeal to me either. I felt like I should be surprised, or disgusted, or at least mildly ashamed. But I felt none of those things. I wanted to fuck my mother, and I didn't care in the least whether that made me a horrible person.

#

I decided to wait around for no more than ten minutes after the show ended. But it turned out that was more than enough time. About three minutes after her camera went black, a message appeared in my inbox.

From Mom, of course.

My stomach clenched as I opened it.

The message was brief. "Hope you don't leave before checking this. If you're even still here. Meet me in the hotel lobby, 15 mins? Ellen."

Bingo.

So I drove across the street to the hotel and went and found an open table in the bar in the lobby. I was a little early so I decided to have a drink. Take the edge off my nerves a little. Not that I expected it to help much.

I couldn't believe what I was about to do. It was insane. Revolting.

And so incredibly exciting, I almost couldn't bear it.

A few minutes after we were supposed to meet, Mom arrived. She wore an overcoat that left nothing but her stockinged calves and heels visible.

"Hi," she said as she walked up to the table. "This seat taken?"

I chuckled, gestured for her to sit.

She took the coat off, revealing a sensible business ensemble. A black skirt, less form-fitting than usual, and a blue blouse worn over a black undershirt. The blouse was also looser than she often wore. Not that I hadn't seen exactly what she had to hide just a little while earlier. Was I wrong about what she had in mind for this little get together?

Maybe she'd remembered as well?

The waiter darted over to our table without appearing to be in a hurry. Mom ordered a frozen margarita, thanked him with a smile, then turned her large brown eyes to me.

"So," she said.

"So. You had something you wanted to tell me?"

"We'll get to that. But I'm going to follow your lead and have a bit to drink first."

"Fair enough," I said. "By the way, that's a nice blouse."

She raised her eyebrows. Those thick beauties made her skin appear all the fairer.

I cleared my throat.

"Sorry," she said, adjusting her blouse nervously. "Thanks." She slipped down from the stool, picked her handbag up. "Excuse me. Be back in a minute," she said before heading for the bathroom.

She returned a few minutes later, wearing more makeup than before.

Interesting.

She knew, I was sure. And her conservative outfit seemed like a sign that she wanted to cover up what had happened, or to keep me from having illicit thoughts about her. But she still felt the need to go pretty herself up.

Her drink arrived shortly after she returned, and she polished off most of it in one gulp. "Okay," she said, drawing a deep breath.

But despite that ice-breaking comment, she remained silent for a time. Just sat there, emptying her drink rapidly. At last, when little more than one good sip remained, she said, "About earlier."

"Yes."

"There's something you should know." She slurped up the rest of her drink, then stared into the bottom of her glass as she stirred the foamy remains with the straw. "I assume you were watching the whole time, yes?"

"Safe assumption," I said, voice flat.

Her voice dropped. "I...don't ask me how I didn't realize this earlier...did you know," she stopped, ran her hands through her glossy hair. "I don't know how to say this." She looked up from her drink, her eyes wide, lip quivering. "You see, Frank-"

"I know. Okay? I knew the whole time. Well, not when you first asked me if I was interested, but I knew what I was beating off to, sitting there alone at my cubicle."

Her eyes went wide.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I shouldn't have watched. Or shouldn't have kept watching, once I'd realized. But, honestly, it was really, really fucking hot. That's pretty much all I can say. I know how that must sound. That's just about the last thing I should have been thinking. But that's really all there is to it, and I'm afraid that if I forced myself to apologize for it, it would be a shameless lie, so I'm not going to bother."

She licked her lips. But I didn't need that, the sudden rush of blood to her cheeks or the dilation of her pupils, let alone a verbal reply, to know that she was aroused.

Without realizing this was even possible, I sensed it on some metaphysical level.

My head spun, and not from the one light beer. Might as well push the chips in at this point. Lowering my voice even further, I said, "Look, we can put on a show of being shocked and disgusted. Maybe we'll even manage to half-way convince ourselves. But we've both tipped our hands already. What do you say we skip the theatrics and get a room. We can worry about being ashamed of ourselves later. But you and I both know that's exactly what we want to happen right now. So why resist it?"

She stared directly into my eyes, drew a deep breath, but still did not speak a word.

Continuing, I said, "I'm not the least bit ashamed, to be perfectly honest. And I don't think you are either. All I can think about is how badly I want to have you to myself. I know that I should be ashamed. But, fuck it. That's all I have to say."

Mom slid forward in her chair. "Okay," she said at last. "I can't believe I'm saying this. But yeah, let's do it. Who cares how wrong it is."

I smiled, dropped a few bills on the table, gathered up her coat for her, and headed towards the check-in sign over the reception desk. After that was taken care of, I walked over to the bar and ordered a bottle of wine. Mom smiled at me approvingly.

We barely spoke a word on the way to the room. Didn't need to. It was obvious that we were both thinking the same things.

I fumbled with the key card, hands shaking, and let us inside. Then I dropped off the bottle and Mom's coat, grabbed the ice bucket, and told her I'd be right back.

When I returned with some ice to keep the wine chilled, I found Mom in a sexy little outfit. If there was a word for the garment she wore, I didn't know it. It was all black, part lace and part silk. It consisted of a bow-tie, a skimpy bra, and panties with frilly scraps of fabric over her hips in imitation of the tiniest skirt ever made. All three pieces were connected by narrow straps. In addition, she wore sheer black gloves with tiny bows on the backs of them and sheer black stockings that went most of the way up her full thighs. The black patent-leather heels were the same as before, but nothing else was.

I cat-called as I walked into the room. "Nice getup."

Mom blushed. "Thanks. I thought you might like it."

"You could say that. If you wanted to seriously, seriously understate things."

She stood up from the edge of the bed, approaching me slowly. I placed the ice on the counter and hurriedly thrust the bottle of wine in. When Mom reached me, she stretched her arms out and slid her fingers over my chest. She was a good deal shorter than me, though I wasn't the tallest guy around. I leaned down, tilted her head back with one curled finger under her chin, and kissed her full lips. After a few moments, she pulled away, panting. "I can't believe we're doing this."

"I've never wanted anything more," I said.

"Me either. But this is so wrong."

"That's part of what makes it so hot."

"I know. You're right. But still. Should we just go back to pretending we're not related?"

"No," I said. "Absolutely not."

Mom nodded. "No, of course not."

"I want to fuck you as your son, a grown man. Those roles are not mutually exclusive."

One of her hands slid down my chest, over my hard abs, continuing its descent until her palm rubbed my hard shaft through my slacks. "Obviously not." Then she stood on her tiptoes and we kissed again. Her tongue was more adventurous this time. After our lips parted, she asked, "What's going on?"

"Um, I think we're about to fuck each other silly."

"That's not what I'm talking about. I mean, why didn't we know? Why does it seem like the world isn't real? How is it that we can sense things we shouldn't be able to sense, can change how we look, what we're wearing?"

I understood her words. But it didn't really resonate.

"You haven't noticed?"

I scratched my head. "Guess I have."

"It's not just us. I can't help but think that Ismail and Vince are family too."

"That doesn't even make sense. You know, since they're-"

Mom rolled her eyes. "Please, Frank. They're obviously bi-racial."

"So you think you had twins from a-"

She shook her head. "They're not mine. I think they're my...nephews?"

"So Liz had children that weren't Jim's?" I asked.

She shrugged. "No, not Liz. I'm not sure if she's involved in this. I guess she probably is." She furrowed her brow. "For that matter, I wonder why she isn't here. Seems like the rest of the family is. Including her daughter."

"Who's her daughter?" I asked.

"That would be Brianna. And you know that Dom, Todd and Natalie are your siblings, right? And I think Cindy and Iva are your father's sisters."

"Are you sure?" I asked. "That doesn't sound right."

She nodded, more emphatically than before. "No, I'm sure it is. I don't know how I could have forgotten. That's really weird."

I shrugged. "I guess I'll take your word for it."

She stared into my eyes. God, those brown beauties were to die for. Her face hardly matched her age. There were some hints of maturity, but she was still incredibly beautiful. She had such long lashes, thick brows and plump, red lips that accentuated her astonishingly white skin every bit as much as her raven black tresses did.

To say nothing of her unreal figure. In comparison to her broad hips and enormous breasts, her waist seemed positively tiny. Her stomach was flat, if not tight or toned. And that skimpy outfit drew attention to all the right places.

In between nibbles of my earlobe, Mom whispered, "Something has taken over our whole family. Something unnatural. We should be trying to figure out what."

I kissed the top of her head. "We should, should we?"

She moaned. The vibration of her throat pressed against my shoulder sent a tingling sensation down my spine. "Maybe not now. But yes, we should."

"Okay, later."

"Later," she agreed.

"After I ravage you, then slowly and tenderly make love to every inch of your body with my mouth before fucking you like a wild animal all over again."

"Yes, after that," she said.

I gathered my mother up in my arms, lifting her from the ground. She wrapped those wickedly curved legs around my waist. I fondled her ass as I carried her over to the bed. Then I dropped her on it and fumbled with my belt while Mom ran her palms over my abs. The task was made more difficult by her legs, wrapped tight around the backs of my thighs, pulling me towards her. Finally, I got my pants and boxers down around my ankles, and pulled my throbbing cock out. I lined it up, pushed it past her sopping wet folds. Her walls retreated slowly, allowing me back into her womb. Fuck, she was tight.

"Ungh. Yes, baby. Give it to me. To hell with foreplay."

I held her legs up with my hands tucked behind her knees and fucked her furiously. Her breasts shook violently. So violently, in fact, that it was a wonder that they didn't spill out of her bra. She clutched onto me, nails digging in my shoulders and back, heels scratching my thighs. My thrusts grew more vigorous still and she had to throw one hand about behind her to keep her balance. As she did, I leaned back. Our torsos formed a V. My every thrust provided direct stimulation to the spongy flesh of her G-spot.

The pleasure was so intense, by rights, I should have burst inside her within a minute or two. Clearly, the same went for Mom, because she did. But we kept going, and she rolled right from one orgasm into another. Often squirting as she did. Still I kept up the insane pace, knowing that if we were normal humans, we'd both have collapsed long since.

But we obviously were not. We were something more, supernatural entities that lived off sexual energy. I'd known that before, but it had somehow been hidden from me.

But now, the memories were returning, tumbling free as the walls around them crumbled before the tide of energy my mother fed me with each climax. Of which, there were many.

I realized Mom was right when she said we could control our appearance. Of course she was. Damned Brianna and her damn veils.

The cock I was slamming so furiously into my mother's tight cunt grew with each thrust. I couldn't see the change, but suddenly her pussy felt much, much tighter.

"Oh, god, yes! I was waiting for that! Fuck, baby, you're so huge!"

I remembered something else I could do. Realizing that what I had taken for a furious pace before was only so by human standards, I sped up. Narrow fractions of a second passed between each slap of my balls against Mom's wide, soft ass cheeks. And, to top it all off, I reached out, metaphysically, and amplified her senses. The stimulation she was receiving would feel at least half again as intense, maybe even twice as much.

"Oh...oh...yeah, that's it. Just like that," she moaned.

Mom's walls spasmed around my cock and I felt her ejaculate again. Throwing her head back, she screamed at the top of her lungs. Her hips thrust up to meet mine. But she wasn't moving as fast, so I got three or four full pumps in for each thrust of hers.

After another monster orgasm, Mom collapsed onto her back. I fell on top of her, gave her a few more quick pumps, and then blew my seed deep into her. After my balls settled down, I climbed off and flopped onto my back beside her. My breathing was ragged. A lot more than a load of sticky cum had flowed from me into Mom just then. But that didn't seem important. I just stared at my mother, smiling uncontrollably.

Her inky black hair was a mess. Her makeup was starting to run. Beads of sweat stood out on her forehead, cheeks, the nape of her neck, and between her legs, which were spread wide so she could air out. "Oh, god, baby. That was so amazing." She moaned contentedly. "I think I'll be riding that high for days."

I walked over to the dresser, uncorked the bottle of wine, and poured it into the plastic cups that came with the room. "Not likely," I said.

Mom waved her hand over her pussy. "Well, obviously, I was exaggerating."

Handing her a cup of wine, I said, "Right. But what I meant is that you're assuming there won't be anything else tonight to eclipse it."

Mom propped herself up on her elbows, took the wine from me. "And I shouldn't?"

"Nope."

"Hmm. Well, either way, if there was any guilt before, it's gone now. I don't want to live in a world that says I can't experience sex that good because it's with my son."

"Same here," I said. I turned my back to her, looked at myself in the mirror. My chest grew thicker, more defined, my shoulders broader and still more chiseled.

"Mmm, that's nice," Mom said. "But you know...." She chewed at her lip, apparently contemplating whether to say what was on her mind. "Don't take this the wrong way dear. You were awfully irresistible to begin with. Quite literally, it would appear," she said, blushing. "But, if you're going to bother burning up some of the energy that would be put to better use fucking my brains out, why not some extra height? A little 5 o' clock shadow? A broader jaw? You know women notice things other than the size of your cock and your muscles, right?" She climbed out of bed, walked over to me slowly, and leaned against my back. Her hands wrapped around my broad shoulders, gently signaling that the changes I had made were certainly appreciated. "And would it kill you to grow your hair out a bit? There's nothing for me to grab onto when you're between my legs."

My head spun. She sounded exactly like my mother, in all the wrong ways. And yet, this was not a conversation one had with one's mother.

It was both frustrating and intensely arousing at the same time.

"I don't know," was all I said. Then I grew a few inches taller, filled out my jaw. "Wouldn't stubble make it unpleasant to kiss me? And what about when I go down on you? I always thought the rule was clean-shaven or at least a full beard."

"Well," she said, trailing a fingernail lightly across my cheek, around the outside of my ear. "Your grandfather used to do this thing. It was so hot. He would grow this nice stubble that made him look nice and rugged. Maybe just a bit longer than stubble. A short beard, I guess you could say. But not a proper beard. Then he'd make his mouth and chin smooth whenever he was going down on me, or while we kissed. It would grow right back after. So whenever I looked at him, or ran my hands over his cheeks, it was there, but it wasn't when I didn't want it to be. That's what our powers let us do, you know? And it was just one of the many thoughtful little touches that made your Grandpa Dick the best lover I ever had."

Wow. I didn't know how to react to that.

Probably should have been more jealous than I was. If she'd said Dom was the best lover she'd ever had, I would have freaked out. So how weird was it that I thought it sweet that she said that about her late father?

But, then, I didn't have to compete with him for my mother's attention anymore. Unlike Grandma Kaitlin, who we pretended was dead while in the mortal world, a world to which she had no intentions of ever returning, but who was in fact still very much alive, Grandpa Dick had indeed died. In a car accident. Perhaps it took a violent death to actually kill our kind, since aging didn't really mean much to us.

At any rate, I did, of course, grow some stubble, and let my hair grow out a few inches.

Mom kissed my shoulder, gave my ass a light tap, and walked back to the nightstand to retrieve her plastic cup. She tilted her head back and took a few gulps of the wine. Then she closed her eyes, wiggled her fingers, and touched up her appearance.

Her makeup looked perfect again. And if you'd told me a professional stylist had just finished fixing her hair, I'd have believed you.

She went over and sat at the small table by the window, sipping her wine slowly. "More importantly though, do you have any idea what's happening?"

"Not really," I said.

"Do you know how many times this has happened before?" she asked.

"Are you sure it has?"

She stretched her legs out, rubbing her calves. "Yeah. You don't remember? I'm not sure of all the details. There was a ski lodge. Another hotel room. I'm also pretty sure you've fucked me in our own house before. I think we've had some somewhat-less-than-wholesome fun for the whole family, in fact. Actually, I'm sure of it. This past summer, after you discovered a video of me and my father, all three of my boys fucked me at once right in the living room. And Nat eventually joined us."

I frowned.

"Oh, don't sulk. Whatever this is, it obviously involves all of us. I've every right to share it with each of my sons, if I so choose."

"No, I know. Of course. But you can't blame me for not loving the idea of sharing."

Mom smiled. "Frank." She said my name like it had four syllables. The way she did when she was disappointed in me, but touched at the same time. Like she thought I was being naive. "That's sweet. But you haven't been exclusive to me any more than I've been to you. Don't you remember?"

I couldn't picture any of it in my mind, but I was sure she was right.

"Sorry," I said. "I realize this isn't some kind of relationship."

"It's just sex. Really fucking good sex...but still, just sex."

"Yeah," I said. "But I assume you were less than enthused about sharing Grandpa with Liz, right? And you did have to sometimes, didn't you?"

She looked at me softly. "Okay, you've got me there. But the point is, I did share him. True enough, I didn't love having to do that. But I did, and I didn't try to give my father guilt trips about it. We were meant to share, Frank."

"Duly noted," I said.

"Besides," she continued, her voice returning to normal, "I didn't say they were as good as you. I can't remember everything we've all done, but I remember that. Nobody knows how to please me the way you do."

By which, of course, she meant no one that was still alive. But that was a qualification I could live with. As long as that was the only exception. We all threw around superlatives a bit too loosely, myself included. I hoped in this case, it was at least mostly true.

I came over to the table. She lowered her leg back to the floor, and I sat across from her. Leaning forward, I caressed the insides of her smooth thighs. "Is that so."

She purred. "Mmm-hmm. You know just what mommy needs." Her voice got a bit randier. "I do so like getting railed by more than one guy at a time though."

I tossed one of her shoes to the floor, peeled her stocking off. "You mean like earlier."

Her breathing was rapid. "Yes," she said after a pause. "Is that okay?"

I nodded as I started massaging her foot. "Yeah. I can't pretend I didn't get a little jealous. But it is pretty fucking hot that you're so insatiable."

"Yeah?" she said in a cutesy voice.

"I'm about ready to cum just thinking about it. My mother's a total slut. Can't get enough cock, no matter how hard she tries. And god, does she try. But in the end, it's mine that she craves the most. What's not to like?"

"Mmm, baby, you're the best." But this time her tone was mechanical.

Okay, message received. Cool it with the jealousy.

Mom pulled her foot from my hand, pressed it delicately against my cock, running the smooth underside back and forth over my sensitive head a few times before trailing her toes over my balls. Then she let her foot drop to the floor and raised the other one into my lap, kicking away her shoe as she did. I peeled that stocking off as well, went to work on that foot. She moaned throatily. "And you're hands are almost as magical as your stiff dick. Tell me, are you as good with your tongue? I seem to remember that you are."

"You'll find out in a minute," I said.

"That would be nice."

I pressed my fingers between her toes, my palm against the arch of her foot. After a fashion, I raised her foot to my mouth and sucked on her toes, trailed my tongue down the sole of her foot. She cooed softly.

"So tell me. Who else do you want to fuck? Besides your mother."

"Putting out feelers for a threesome, are we? An MFF?"

"Maybe. Maybe just making conversation. I'm not under the impression that you're going to be at my side every minute of this thing. Nor should you be."

I tried to take that in the way it was intended. "Tara," I said. "If she's part of this. Is she even family? Is this only family, or do you suppose it's centered on the office?"

"Are you sure those aren't one and the same?"

"I don't remember ever seeing Skye, the twins, Tara, or Iva growing up."

"I think Tara's my sister. Estranged or something. Maybe because she had children out of wedlock, and a black man's children at that. Yeah. I think that's what happened. For some reason, I only remember her from the days back before I was initiated, when I still though we were an ordinary family. We used to fight about clothes and boys and stupid stuff. She must have taken part in the family tradition at some point, but she's a good deal younger than me. Maybe I'd already moved out by the time she came of age."

"And Iva?"

"She looks sort of like a younger Cindy. I'm guessing she's also your aunt." She paused. "That would put a considerable gap between her, her brother and her sister. Cindy's only two years younger than Gus, but Iva must be at least a decade younger than Cindy. But then, stranger things have happened."

I nodded. It did actually make sense. There was definitely some similarity.

"So, Tara then?" Mom asked.

I cleared my throat, taking a break from seducing her feet. "Yeah. That weird?"

"No, not at all. Makes sense. And it's reassuring, in an odd way. Though I realize that, having just said we shouldn't be thinking of this as exclusive, I shouldn't care. But the nice part about being the mother, I get to contradict myself and you just have to deal with it."

I focused on eliciting some deep moans as I licked and sucked her foot before replying. "Naturally. So what's reassuring about Tara?"

"Oh, I don't know. I'm being silly, I guess."

"No, it's fine. I'm just curious."

"Mmm, yes, keep doing that. Oh, you are gifted with your tongue." She rubbed her palm over her naked sex. "Well, she's almost the same age as me. And she has real curves. Isn't a tiny little skin and bones type, like Brianna. I'm glad you didn't say her name."

"No, not my type."

"Tara's a redhead too," Mom observed wryly.

"Oh, is she?" I said. "I hadn't noticed. In that case, I change my mind."

Mom dropped the foot I was working to my crotch and raised the other there too. I was surprised, though I realized I probably shouldn't have been given what I was remembering we all could do, as she gave me a reasonably good handjob with her feet. "Who else?"

"I don't care what other guys you fuck, you know. I know you like black guys. I mean, what white woman doesn't, apparently. But it doesn't really matter to me who the next guy lucky enough to be with you is."

"Just a little bit of unsolicited advice. Women don't especially enjoy it when men let it show that they feel threatened by other men. At all. I'd keep those comments to yourself."

Right. We'd already covered that. I silently cursed at myself.

"Anyway, I don't, really. Some women do. Your sister certainly does. Since you've gone away to school, I think four of the five guys she's brought home were black. But that means she's already slept with more black guys than I have in my entire life. Not that it's any of your business one way or another."

"Fair enough," I said.

"Anyway, moving on. I appreciate you saying that you don't care who I sleep with next, but I'm not buying it," she said. "Can you honestly say it wouldn't even feel like a pinprick if I said I was really hoping to have Dom force himself on me soon?"

My heart skipped a beat.

"Mmm, thought so," she said. "Don't worry, he's not on the agenda at the moment anyway. I seem to remember I had a huge crush on him for the longest time, but I think I'm pretty much over it at this point."

I tried to hide my sigh of relief, though I didn't believe I was very successful.

"The only one I remember being half as attentive to a woman's needs as you is Jack."

For some reason, that made me, well, not happy. I didn't like hearing Mom say anything especially positive about any of the other men she'd taken as lovers. Especially those that were still alive. But reassuring was a good way of putting it. Dom's physique was more similar to mine than Jack's. But Jack and I had similar personalities. Even if that didn't tend to carry over into the bedroom as I'd always believed it did, it still felt like she was basically saying she was drawn to men who had those qualities of which I happened to be particularly proud of having myself.

"I take that as a stamp of approval," she said, still caressing my cock with her feet.

"Yeah," I said. "I get what you meant about Tara."

"So...who else?"

I thought for a moment. "I don't know. Too bad Liz isn't here. I guess Cindy."

Mom raised an eyebrow. "Would've thought you'd say Natalie."

"There's something really sexy about a woman with experience. Not that I think Natalie hasn't been getting any. But, you know."

"Good answer," Mom said.

"So. You weren't necessarily getting at this, but would you be open to a threesome?"

Mom closed her eyes, ran her finger in circles around a stiff, pink nipple through the flimsy fabric of her bra. "Tara would work for me. Most definitely."

If possible, I got a bit harder still.

"But if I do that for you, you can't complain when I decide I want a bunch of guys to ravage me. And I'm not even promising I'll invite you. Can you deal with that?" she asked.

My breath caught. "Yeah. I can deal with it."

She smiled. "Good."

"Anyway, enough talk," I said, climbing out of the chair. I scooped her up out of hers and carried her over to the bed. I laid her down and stared into her eyes. "Ready?"

"Baby, if you so much as breathe on my clit, I might cum."

True to her word, it took her almost no time to reach climax. My hands were kneading her ass like dough and the occasional brush of my thumb teased either her asshole or her moist pussy lips, but it was mostly my mouth on the small of her back that finished her. I kissed up her spine, worked her neck and ears for a while, then turned her over. I had just ripped her bra off and was starting to work on her breasts when she came for a second time.

She had a third orgasm as I worked her hips. Having teased her mercilessly, I finally threw myself fully into pleasuring her vulva. I slowly upped the ante from one or two brief flicks to her outer folds to mostly focusing on her labia, but never quite touching her clit. I'd forgotten how she tasted of blackberries and raspberries. Delicious. Eating her out was almost as much a treat for me as for her, she tasted so good. I licked around her lips frequently, with the briefest interruption of the pattern to include her inner folds. She was rocking her hips, trying to fuck my face, begging me to focus more on her clit. But my neck, comprised of muscles like thick steel cables, would not bow to her pressure. She was still going to have to wait a bit before I turned my attention to her stiff little love bud.

At last, I gave in. After that buildup, I felt sure that when the first flick of my tongue finally caressed her clitoris, she would assume it was a feint. But I launched a full assault on her womanhood. I licked around and underneath it. I softened my tongue and pulsed it back and forth against her button. I stiffened the tip and flicked it up and down her clit like I was plucking guitar strings.

Most women would have screamed at that much intense stimulation, but we were different. Our tolerance for pleasure was inhuman. At the same time, when we allowed ourselves to succumb to the efforts of our partners, it was often easier for us to climax, and climax repeatedly. A beautiful combination.

Not long after I began working her clitoris furiously, I slid a few fingers inside her. At first, I was modestTo continue reading this story you must be a member. Join for FREE here.