Incest/Taboo High School Yearbook

I am starting a new mother-son story which I expect will see the light of day several months from now.

I hope all are doing well during the current crisis. May this story provide a momentary distraction.

Bree's clit was throbbing.

It was the same dream she'd had the night before, and the night before that, but more graphic, more intense, more arousing. The young man holding her clitoris between his teeth sucked on it, drawing more and more blood into her most sensitive place. He dragged the flat of his warm thick tongue over it, flicked it with the tip of that tongue like an unrelenting Gatling gun. His tongue kept shifting, trying something new, returning to something wonderful, moving from spot-to-spot. It knew what she needed.

He touched his finger to her vagina, played with its swollen lips. Although he could have jammed his finger into her -- she'd never been so wet -- he moved it inside incrementally, slowly, half a inch at a time, caressing exploring the inner walls of her sex. Pleasure pulsed through her.

When he found her g-spot he dragged the fingertip over it in a come hither motion, massaged it, pampered it. She gibbered her delight and her g-spot -- it'd never been this big -- merged with her clitoris. All the time his tongue continued its assault on her clit, slapping and plundering her sex.

Her cunt was on fire. She was going to come like she'd never come before.

And then she'd woken up. It took a second -- she heard her husband's snores -- to orient herself before she was ready to accept it wasn't real. However, real or not, the hand she pressed to her wet sex confirmed the dream's power. She glanced at the clock beside her bed -- crap, it was three in the morning.

She looked at her husband, considered waking him up, but she recalled the last time she'd done that. Two weeks ago she'd used her mouth on him, but the resulting erection lasted five thrusts (she knew, she counted) before he came inside her, his dick far too sensitive to continue. She'd felt his shame, had felt it over the past months as his sex drive deteriorated and he had ever more trouble achieving, then maintaining an erection. No, she'd not embarrass him tonight.

She got out of bed, closed the bathroom door, turned on the shower, climbed inside. She imagined the young man's mouth, squeezed her breast, twisted her nipple, worked her clit. When it came the orgasm was hard and strong and delicious and she swallowed her groans so as not to disturb her husband.

Feeling rejuvenated, electric and alive, she toweled herself off, took extra care with her short fiery red hair and make-up, then, as she studied her naked self in the mirror, her mind returned to the first difficult months of her marriage.

Bryan, her soon to be stepson, had not been happy when, after a six day courtship, his father announced he was going to marry this total stranger. Things got worse when Bryan met Andrea his future stepsister, the Belle of the Ball, the girl who dated the quarterback but was too cool to be a cheerleader, the girl who, when she deigned to notice her studious stepbrother, treated him mixed contempt and disdain. And while Bryan was never overtly hostile to her or Andrea -- he was too smart to risk setting off his volatile father -- he was aloof, refusing to fully participate in his new family, holding himself as an outsider, an observer.

Then, three months ago, she'd started having trouble falling and staying asleep. She mentioned it to the family over breakfast and a few days later Bryan said he'd done some research and suggested a white-noise machine. She said no -- she didn't trust the kid -- but as the problem intensified she revisited the idea, checked it out on the internet, decided it could do no harm. When the package arrived Bryan, the family geek, volunteered to program and set it up for her.

It worked. She slept eight hours that night, every night since, felt better, looked better -- her eyes and skin seemed to glow. Brimming with energy she got herself to the gym and lost ten pounds, regaining her college 112 pounds spread over her slender 34-24-35 five foot seven inches and "B" breasts. Even better, it was the beginning of a new relationship with her stepson. Treating him like an adult, always taking the extra step for him, making every effort to show him courtesy, kindness, and respect, she came to appreciate his determination, sense of responsibility, wisdom, air of intelligence and command.

Bree's reverie was interrupted by the sound of her stepson coming down the stairs. The editor/manager of his high school yearbook, he'd been getting to school early each morning to work with the yearbook's faculty adviser. But before he'd leave, knowing how Bree loved her coffee in the morning, he'd set up the coffee maker for her. Now, deciding to thank him, she wrapped a towel around her naked body, turned off the light in the bathroom, and slipped by Edward, her comatose husband.

"Bryan, is that you."

He came around the corner of the kitchen, saw her, said, "You're up early."

"Yeah, woke up about forty-five minutes ago, couldn't get back to sleep. I want to thank you for making coffee. That's very sweet."

"You're welcome. Should I take a look at the white-noise machine, see if it needs adjustment."

Pinning the towel to her chest -- it had started to slip -- she approached him, said, "I'd appreciate that," kissed his cheek, wished him a good day, and then did something she'd never done before, kept her eyes on his butt as he headed for the garage. She knew she shouldn't. He was her stepson, he wasn't her type, too skinny, too nerdy, but still, it was a nice ass.
​

* * * * *​

Bianca Richards heard the clop-clop of her blue 2 ½ pumps echo down the empty school hallway. She wished they were the 4 ½ inch spiked heels her lover preferred, wished her pantyhose had the seam running down the back her lover adored, but he was right. At school one erred on the side of the appropriate.

There was no false modesty to her: she checked herself in her office mirror, liked what she saw. Of Middle Eastern descent, her look was exotic: triangular face with a strong chin, full lips, dark smoldering eyes, thick wavy raven hair. And although she'd worked her body to curvy perfection, 110 toned pounds on a five feet six inch 25-32-35 figure and "C" breasts, wearing glasses, a white blouse, blue jacket, and calf length blue skirt, no one could accuse her of flaunting it. Of course, if they knew about the stockings, garters and straps, lacy bra and lack of panties she wore underneath things might be different. But, only he knew.

Deciding to emphasize her full lips she reached into her purse, choosing a red lip stick too dark for this early hour. But he'd like it and it would be gone before the rest of the student body arrived.

As she put the lipstick back in her purse she heard his footsteps in the hall. If the school board knew she'd provided him a key to the school, there'd be hell to pay. Then again, if the school board knew he had a key to her car and home, that she was fucking him, that her husband happily acquiesced to it all, there'd be hell to pay. What was one additional indiscretion?

She glanced in the mirror one last time. She'd never looked better. Part of it, she knew, was presentation. While she had always been careful about her appearance, over the last few months she'd become fanatical, and at the moment, make-up flawless, hair worn up, long nails painted a deep red, she could have been taken for a model. She'd also never worked harder at the gym, her skin and eyes, bright and alive, were healthier than ever, and she thought about sex all the time, of her lover, the way he fucked her, taking her to places she'd only dreamed of.

She'd never been so alive.

She slipped her leather belt off, draped it over the back of her chair, neatly folded and lay her skirt atop it, then saying, "Good morning darling," turned to the door, greeting her lover in stockings, garter, and heels.

He stopped. She loved the way he looked at her; the ways his eyes possessed her.

Slipping the glasses from her face, she nibbled on the end of a stem and said, "You like?"

"I do."

Placing her glasses on her desk, she strode across the room, steps slow, rotating her body for him, and said, "I know we have a lot to do for the yearbook, but I'm thinking we still have time for a quickie."

He smiled, placed a finger under her chin, moved her face to his, and his strong masterful tongue entered her mouth. She reached down, covered his penis with her hand, and with practiced skill undid the buttons on his jeans, slipped two fingers inside, ran their manicured surface on his erection.

When the kiss ended dropping to her knees she said, "I take it that's a yes. Y'know, you're not wearing any underwear."

"No, but neither are you. I guess great minds..."

"...think alike."

Bryan yanked his belt free and Bianca pulled his pants over his hips, smiled up at him, said, "God you're big," held his dick flat to his belly, licked up its underside, did so again, sucked one testicle, then the other, into her mouth, thoroughly bathing each with tongue and spit.

Letting the testicle escape his mouth with an audible pop she tilted him forward, flicked her tongue across his pisshole several times, stretched her jaw, moved him just inside her mouth, licked along the underside of his cock then clamped her lips on him just beyond the crown. Swinging her tongue around the cockhead, she moved forward, taking half of him in her mouth, moved back, repeated, pushing forward a little farther each time until his pubic hair tickled her nose. His dick embedded in her face, she placed his hand on the back of her head and coddled his hot heavy balls. He was ready; they were pulsating. And her? She was always ready.

She let him slip from her mouth, stood, pulled the pins from her hair, and shaking her head, straightening her long black tresses, leaned over her desk and looking at him over her shoulder said, "Bryan, you know how I love your dick. Fuck me, fuck your horny teacher."

Inserting a finger in her, confirming she was wet and ready, Bryan took hold of her hips and drove himself into her in a single solid thrust. Ninnying her delight with a high lascivious squeal, her body rocked forward and clasping the sides of her desk Bianca and pushed back, meeting his next thrust. They fucked, bodies slamming into each other with loud slaps. Bianca wondered why couldn't her husband fuck her like this, why wasn't his cock perfect like Bryan's, but she knew the answer. Her husband was sweet, but you can't expect one man to be everything.

Her mind turned inward, focusing on the cock plunging into her, filling her, stretching the walls of her cunt. His massive balls swung back and forth, slapping her clit at the end of each thrust. She reached between her legs, trapped her clitoris against her body with the pad of a perfectly manicured finger, rubbed it back and forth.

She came, came again, then a third time, each reverberating through her like the crack of a bull whip, but she knew another lurked deep inside, waiting for him to, needing him to....

As if reading her mind he grunted, tightened his grip on her hips, fingers digging into her flesh, and drove into her, rocking her onto her tip toes. His dick quivered and spasmed, and he was coming, spewing his thick essence into her. As he did she came, her body shuddering like a tin roof in the face of a hurricane's winds, until half-conscious she slumped forward. His cock slid out of her, juice and cum dribbled from her cunt onto the desk's polished surface.

Breathing heavily, mind scrambled, eyes closed, she lay there wallowing in her satiated body, every muscle perfectly at rest. Only he could make her feel this way.

A few minutes later her eyes drifted open. Her lover was sitting in her office chair, his massive dick dangling between his legs. She smiled, pushed the hair from her face, said, "You're a fricking god," and stood. Bryan did the same and they moved into each other's arms, kissed. She loved the feel of his body on hers, the way her breasts flattened on his chest, and nestling her head on his shoulder she said, "I guess it's time to get to work. I'll meet you in the yearbook office."

He said, "I'll see you there my darling," kissed her, left. Closing the office door -- because school policy prohibited closed door meetings between faculty and students she'd left it open -- she wiped herself clean, fixed her hair and make-up, put her skirt back on, dabbed a little perfume behind her ears, and went to join her lover in the yearbook office where, sitting at adjoining desks, they got to work. As they did Bianca detected the lingering smell of their lovemaking on her body and wondered, on most days, on some barely detectable level, did she smell of him? Perhaps that was why she was subject to more covetous looks from her students and fellow faculty members than ever.
​

* * * * *​

As her stepson headed for school Bree poured herself a cup of coffee, returned to her bedroom, slipped by her still sleeping husband. She didn't need to be in court that day, didn't need to overtly trade on her good looks, and so selected a mid-calf green dress, attractive and comfortable. Bree, finishing dressing just about the time Bryan arrived at school, kissed her husband on the side of the head, whispered, "Time to get up dear," and turned off the white noise machine. The voices hidden in that noise, the voices that sang to her and her husband's subconscious minds night after night, ceased their song.
​

* * * * *​

In the kitchen Bree poured herself a second cup of coffee, heard her husband get in the shower, started responding to e-mails, and as Bryan was poised to drive his cock into his voluptuous teacher from behind heard her daughter come down the stairs.

"Hey Mom."

Bree turned to the staircase. Her daughter's face, bags under blood shot eyes, told her everything she needed to know.

"Bad night's sleep again?"

"Yeah, got coffee? Black."

"Black? It must have been bad."

Andrea said, "If this goes on much longer I'll need sleeping pills."

Thinking of her own battle with sleeplessness, a sleeplessness that defeated every sleeping pill prescribed by her doctor, that defied everything until the white-nose machine, Bree said, "Have you considered the white box, it worked wonders for me."

They'd been through this. When Andrea first complained about sleeplessness Bryan had suggested it, but Andrea dismissed him with her usual contempt. Unfazed, Bryan had responded with a nonchalant, "If you change your mind let me know." He never brought it up again, but Bree had as Andrea's problem worsened.

Andrea, her voice lacking the conviction it'd shown up to this time, said, "I don't know Mom, I'd hate to let King Nerd think I need him for something, but yeah, I need something. Much more of this and I'll have competition for best looking girl in school."

Bree, her tone sharp, said, "Andrea don't talk about your brother like that, he is sweet and smart and always willing to help. You should try to be nice to him."

A bit annoyed -- until recently her mother had invariably taken her side when she criticized her stepbrother -- Andrea swallowed her, "Whatever," and said, "Yes Mama."
​

* * * * *​

Hearing the hallways start to fill with students Bianca marked the progress of her work, closed her computer, and turned to Bryan. "We got a lot accomplished today."

"Yes we did. Same time tomorrow?"

"I'll be here. How about tonight, my place?"

He opened his phone, checked his schedule, frowned. "Chess Club meeting after school, calculus test tomorrow, it will have to be a quickie around 8:00."

"Perfect, I'll let my husband know you're coming over. I'll be waiting upstairs. There's some new lingerie I'm dying to model for you."

As Bryan said, "I'm looking forward to itl," his phone pinged. He glanced down and Bianca, seeing the concentration on his face, said, "What is it my darling?"

"It's from my stepmom. It seems my wicked stepsister finally decided a white-noise machine may help her sleep. She wants me to order one."

Recalling how she'd seen Andrea disrespect her stepbrother around school, how she'd heard her belittle him behind his back, Bianca said, "Are you sure your stepsister deserves your help?"

"Maybe not, but one should err on the side of kindness. How is your white-noise machine working?"

Smiling, "Wonderfully. My husband and I have never slept better."
​

* * * * *​

The family ensconced before the television downstairs, Bryan carefully measured his stepsister's bedroom. It had been his once, but when Bree and Andrea moved in he'd been kicked out, his father siding with Bree when she said her daughter needed the room's oversized closet for her clothes. Finishing the measurements he turned to his stepsister's expensive sound system, deleting the program which, for the past month, emitted a low rumble several times each night which, although indecipherable to the human ear, woke his stepsister up. He then tied the white noise-machine into the sound system, knowing the latter's superior sonic properties would intensify the machine's efficacy.

Buried in the white noise were layer after layer of intricate interwoven voices. It had taken Bryan months to create. Sampled from the greatest choral music ever recorded, modeled on the music of Johann Sebastian Bach, the voices sang in endlessly evolving juxtaposition: sang in monophony, sang in heterophony, sang in polyphony, sang in harmony, sang in counterpoint and rounder, sang in intersecting tempos, in different temporal modes, in fugues and variations. The effect was relaxing, seductive, hypnotic, and overwhelming.

The voices were not dictators. They did not command or instruct. Instead the voices sang of a night of deep uninterrupted sleep and the result: renewed vigor and energy.

For women the voices sang of an ever flourishing sex drive, one that was intensifying, becoming more daring, more inclusive.

For men, sadly, the voices sang of an aging sex drive, inadequate for the beautiful women in their lives.

The voices praised Bryan, his wisdom, intelligence, judgment. The voices sang of his attractiveness, his desirability, his quiet strength, his magnetism. The voices sang of his skill as a lover, of the inadequacy of any other man.

The voices sang of a wonderful world, a world without restrictions, where one's libido reigned free.

As they had with Bree and her husband, as they had with Bianca and hers, these voices poured their song into Andrea's mind each night.

That first night, for the first time in weeks, Andrea slept well.
​

* * * * *​

For Bree the dreams sharpened. And while she still couldn't see her lover's face, she knew who it was. Bryan was doing those wonderful things to her. At first when she woke up she refused to masturbate. She knew it was only a dream, knew no harm could come from it, but still Bryan, no matter how wonderful and attractive, was her stepson.

But it was hard, for the burn between her legs burned all day long and then one morning she didn't want to resist anymore and brought herself off in the shower. It was wonderful.

And that night, for the first time she saw the face of the lover in her dream. It was Bryan.

The songs were patient. At first it wasn't that Andrea was nice to her stepbrother, it was more that she wasn't mean. Bryan noticed; no one else did. But as the weeks went by Andrea became more pleasant, attentive, considerate, positive. And then one day she said, "Bryan, I have Mr. Ferrick's algebra mid-term tomorrow. I know you aced his course last year. Kelly's coming over to study together. Could you give us a hand?"

"I'd love to sis."

"Thanks, you're the best."

After an hour Bree, happy to see her daughter and stepson getting along made hot chocolate, the good stuff, Bryan's favorite, and brought it upstairs to the kids.
​

* * * * *​

While sex was the common theme, this particular Saturday night Bryan, Andrea, and Bree were differently occupied.

We'll start with Bryan. He was struggling to focus. Driving Bianca's Jaguar home from a picnic -- they loved fucking in the great outdoors -- his sexy teacher's head was in his lap, her mouth sliding up and down his dick. Managing to maneuver the sports car into Bianca's garage, he parked and said, "We're back at your place darling."

Lifting her head, glancing around as if confirming his statement, she ran her tongue in an oval on her lips, capturing some of the spit that covered her jaw, and said, "So we are. God you turn me on."

"Where's Roy?"

Glancing at the clock on the dashboard she said, "By now my husband is at Ricky's; he's having the guys over for the game. Roy's bringing some of his amazing guacamole. He said he'd leave a helping for us in the refrigerator."

"Your husband is a sweet man."

"He is, I'm a lucky girl. Let's get inside."

As Bianca got out of the car, as she opened the gate leading into her backyard, Bryan, for the ten-thousandth time marveled at the beauty of this woman. Wearing sandals, a white sports bra skimpy even by her standards, and tiny tan shorts that emphasized her olive skin, she was a walking wet dream. And although every guy in his high school, every guy who saw her, wanted her, she was all his.

Stepping through the gate, she stopped by the pool, undid her shorts, let them slide down her legs. Her tight high perfect ass was naked -- she'd left her panties in the forest, a souvenir for some lucky camper -- and visible at its center was the flared purple base of a butt plug.

They'd started small. The first toy was not much bigger than a straw, letting her get used to having something in her ass. But the toys had grown steadily larger longer thicker and she quickly found she liked having something up there. In her office, just before his class, she'd lube herself up and slip a toy in her anus, loving that in a room filled with thirty-plus students only he and she knew a dildo or butt plug was planted in her ass.

He'd suggested a dildo equal to his cock in size, but she'd said no. When that moment came, when she was to be that stretched, crammed that full, she wanted it to be him, only him.

Her back still to him she pulled the bra over her head, dropped it next to her shorts, turned, smiled, said, "How 'bout a shower."
​

* * * * *​

The two of them worked bath gel into each other's skin, washing away the day's accumulated grime and the detritus of their impassioned fuck in the forest. When done Bianca reached for the medical bulb, handed it to him, said, "Please clean me up," and turned, her hands on the wall, her ass high in the air. Filling the bulb with the shower's warm water Bryan said, "You ever have an enema?'

"No, but it sounds like fun. Would you give me one someday?"

"Yeah, but for now this will do," and inserting the bulb's nozzle in her rectum filled her ass with warm soapy water.

Saying,"Oh god, that feels good," she clamped her anus shut, holding the water inside her for several beats before relaxing and letting it flow down her legs.

She turned to him, entwined her arms on his neck, kissed him, and loving the feel of her breasts crushed on his chest whispered, "You ready to fuck your teacher up the ass?"
​

* * * * *​

Bianca turned on the sound system and, soft music filling the bedroom, sat at her vanity as Bryan, standing behind her, dried her hair with a blow-dryer. It took a while, her hair was thick and long, but Bryan didn't mind, didn't mind sitting on the bed watching her brush that hair. He loved watching this impossibly sexy woman, but never so much as at times like now, when she was preparing herself for him.

Finishing with her hair she placed her brush atop the vanity, picked up a bottle of his favorite perfume, held it to her nose, closed her eyes and inhaled, dabbed it on her wrists and behind her ears, stood, said, "It's a big night my love."

"It is, are you nervous?"

"A little. I'm a virgin back there and we've spent a lot of energy getting me ready. But I know I'll be fine. I always am with you."

She sat on the bed next to him and the lovers melted into each other's arm, their kisses growing deeper longer more passionate until he moved his mouth to her ear and said, "Why don't you lay down."

She did, on her stomach. Picking up the massage oil they kept by the bed he worked her back and shoulders, her legs from toes to hips, before dribbling it onto her butt and massaging the oil into her ass cheeks. Her sphincter, accustomed to his touch -- he loved fingering her ass during sex -- relaxed and oil leaked inside her.

Moving between her legs, spreading her butt cheeks, Bryan let the thick dollop of the spit he'd been building in his mouth ooze onto her anal bud, then, tongue loose and open, licked it up, down, all around. And while focused on her anus he'd visit the surrounding area which, like the rest of her backside, were growing increasingly sensitive.

With Bianca cooing her delight Bryan curled his tongue and tickled the opening of her anus with its tip. At first her sphincter, acting on instinct, tightened, but as he stabbed and swabbed, it relaxed; he speared half an inch of tongue inside her. When his tongue grew exhausted, he kissed her anus, gently dragged his front teeth on it, did it again. Bianca moaned with guttural gusto.

"Okay babe, up on your knees."

She did and after coasting his finger with lubricant he stroked her anus with its tip several times before pushing it inside her. At the first knuckle he stopped, waited for her to relax, gently twirled it inside her.

"Unnnhhhh."

He pushed a bit deeper, stopped, gave her a minute to adjust, twirled.

"Unnnnnhhhhhhh."

Moving deliberately he pushed all the way in, stopped, waited, twirled.

"Uunnnnnnnhhhhhhhhhhh."

Flexing the walls of her rectum on him she rotated her ass, moving it in counterpoint with his twisting finger, and muttered encouragement. "Oh Bryan, yes, oh yes, that's it, oh fuck yes, that's it."

When he placed a second fingertip on her asshole she said, "Please darling, let me," and pushed back onto it. Moving past her sphincter, slithering ever deeper inside, this finger joined the first, it's full length buried inside her ass. He held his fingers motionless, waiting for Bianca to be ready, and she clamped her rectum on him, giving him a foretaste of the delight that was to come. "Oh Bryan, I'm gonna make you dick feel so good. Finger-fuck my ass."

Slowly, very slowly, he slid his fingers back until their tips were pressed to her sphincter, slipped them back in. At first, eyes closed, her focus on the thousands of nerve endings crowding her anus, she was passive, letting him dictate pace and power, but soon, a fire burning inside her, she was rocking her backside onto his fingers until the sensations became so intense they verged on painful and she said, "I'm ready babe. I want to be on top."

Sliding his fingers from her asshole Bryan tumbled onto his back, his erection laying flat on his stomach.

Bianca sat up, chin resting on her knee, and, looking at her lover, paused. She remembered when they met. He was the newly elected editor of the yearbook and she it's faculty liaison, a job foisted each year on the newby teacher. She hadn't been happy: he wanted to work hard and produce a first rate product; she saw the job as more chore than pleasure.

Her disinterest must have shown, for at their third meeting he brought a white-noise machine, saying it would help them concentrate. She'd had doubts, but told him to plug it in. It turned out he was right, it was their most productive meeting yet. When he brought it to the next meeting, when it had the same result, she apologized for her earlier doubts. Pleased by her enthusiasm he suggested she take it home, use it at night to deepen her sleep.

Over the next months working with this handsome young man became the highlight of her days and as her husband's once powerful sex drive disappeared they'd become lovers.

Now, dribbling lubricant on his dick, she wrapped her fingers around it, slid them up and down -- god she loved his dick -- straddled him, looked to his perfect face, and saying, "I'm so glad I saved this for you," reached behind herself and slid the head of his cock up and down her well-lubed anal crevice. Bryan, his hands covered with the lubricant, reached up to drag his thumbs across her fat breasts, increasing the pressure when he reached her dark distended nipples. Moaning in pleasure she closed her eyes, held him to the rosebud of her anus, took a deep breath, blew the air out between pursed lips, leaned back.

Despite all the preparation there was pain; he was bigger than any of the toys she used. But accepting the challenge she increased the pressure, felt her sphincter stretch, give way, mold itself to the invading cockhead, and taking a deep breath, she pushed. His cockhead popped inside her. It hurt. She stopped, rested her hands on her thighs, looked at the large wall mirror she'd had installed and loving the sight pushed down -- sometimes stopping, sometimes rocking back and forth to stretch herself -- as inch after hard inch of him filled her ass.

Soon she found she was sitting on his hips. She felt triumphant; all of him was interred in her backside.

She closed her eyes, focused on his cock, of the sensation of being stuffed. She'd never been this full.

"Oh god Bryan, it's wonderful. Thank you for seducing me, for being my lover, for taking the time to prepare me for this."

"Pretty lady, the pleasure is mine."

Pushing her thick hair behind her ears, knowing she was surrendering to him in a way she'd done for no other, she rocked her hips, back and forth, in small ovals, tiny figure eights. It still hurt, but the pain also served to highlight an intense, previously unknown, pleasure buried deep in her butt.

Accepting the challenge she clenched the muscles of her ass, increasing the pressure, felt her rectum stretch, mold itself to his cock.

Intoxicated by the sight of his beautiful teacher impaled on his cock, Bryan said, "Play with your tits." She did, rolling her nipples between her fingers. When he said, "Lick your tits," she cupped each breast, tipped it upwards, dragged her tongue across the nipple.

Bryan rolled his thumb over her clit.

Lost in a hurricane of sensations Bianca raised herself on her knees, just an inch, slid back down. Taking her time she repeated, lengthened the process, until only his cock-head remaining inside her, she stopped and said, "Well Bryan, how is it? Am I as tight as you imagined? Was it worth the wait?" then dropped down, absorbing all of him into her body.

"Bianca, it's fricking amazing."

She kept going, never hurrying, but steadily increasing the pace. Soon Bryan, seeing she was ready, began gently thrusting into her with an upward roll of his hips.

Bianca again looked to the mirror, liked the wanton woman and beautiful young man she saw there, but imagined something else, something more raw, more animal. Her proud surrender.

She leaned forward, her hands on the bed beside his head, her hair hanging down over her face, her large breasts swaying. "Bryan, I want you to take me from behind."

Raising his head to lick her nipples Bryan said, "Are you sure?"

Leaning back so she was again sitting on her knees she looked to the mirror, at the lewd image staring back. "Absolutely, I want you to be in control."

She moved off him, got on all fours. Sitting up Bryan took his place between her legs, held the head of his cock to her anus as she leaned back until his dick surged past her sphincter.

Rotating his hips, stretching her out, Bryan pushed, venturing deep into her nether-world. When he was all the way in Bianca flexed her ass muscles, heard him groan in pleasure, arched her back, pressed her hips to him. Bryan began thrusting in and out of her, steadily increasing the pace and power as Bianca's moans, whimpers, and groans signaled her increasing arousal.

Reaching under herself to stroke her clit, she dropped her head to the bed, and leaning on her shoulder looked in the mirror, watching her student cornhole her, a wicked pleasure written on his handsome face.

Changing angles Brian started varying his strokes: short sweet and shallow, long deep and penetrating.

"Oh yes Bryan. Oh yes, oh yes."

Growing ever more familiar with each other, apprehension a thing of the past, her finger on her clit, Bianca focused on her lover's dick churning in her bum. They fucked on and on. And she experienced a series of short crackling orgasms -- it felt like a thousand minty fairies were throwing snowballs in there -- that left her craving more.

And then Bryan leaned forward and through the thin wall separating her cunt and asshole she felt Bryan's fat cock-head roll over her g-spot.

"Yes Bryan, just like that, oh fuck me, just like that."

He angled his thrusts down, increasing the pressure on her g-spot; she worked her clit with single-minded ferocity. The pressure in her clit, g-spot, and anus built, fed off each other; it was unlike anything she'd ever known. She tried to analyze it, but it washed away her rational mind, and she let it carry her away.

"Oh Bryan, oh Bryan, so so so so so so so...."

Feeling every inch, every contour, of Bryan's cock Bianca rocked back into him, pushing her hips onto him with a force that should hurt, but didn't. Inspired by her naked passion Bryan drove himself into her, going deep, so deep they both wondered if he'd come out the other side.

Bianca blubbered as orgasms came in waves. Intense and full-bodied, born in her clit, anus, and g-spot, they were deeper, more personal, more profound than anything she'd ever experienced. She was on sensory overload, coming again and again.

And then she heard it, the growl she'd become so familiar with these past months. He'd soon fill her rectum with his seed.

Rubbing her clit harder she looked over her shoulder, said, "That's it baby, come inside me, come inside your teacher, come inside me," and tightened the walls of her ass. His dick spasmed and jumped and she reached back, squeezed his balls, and with an animal roar he jammed himself into her and sent blast after blast of hot white hot jizz into her ass.

She let go of his balls, touched her clit. This orgasm came in slow vibrating waves, starting at her ankles, arching into her back, flowing out of the top of her head, never peaking, but lingering, filling her with a perfect peace and contentment. There were no fears or anxiety, no past, no future, no car payments or mortgages. There was only him and her, two people covered in sweat, melting into each other. She was aware of every cell in her body; it was the closet thing to god she'd ever felt.

She lay with her lover until, strength returning, she kissed him and walked down the stairs -- her ass was going to be sore in the morning. Retrieving the guacamole from the refrigerator she thought of the past few months, thought of the future. Changes were coming and while she'd miss it being just the two of them, her lover had said it would be wonderful and her lover was always right. Returning to the bedroom she said, "What's the progress on your stepmom?"

"Bree will be ready any day now, then I'm counting on you to help carry her over the finish line."

Feeding him guacamole she said, "Y'now I've never been with a woman. I'm sure your stepmom will be the perfect introduction. I'm looking forward to it, a world without restrictions, where one's libido reigns free. Speaking of which, it's still early. Wanna join me in the hot tub?"
​

* * * * *​

As I said earlier, on this particular Saturday night Bryan, Andrea, and Bree were differently occupied. We just learned about Bryan's big night. Now let's move on to Andrea and Bree.

Andrea was gathered with the gang at her boyfriend's house -- his parents were out of town. They raided the liquor supply, passed around a couple of joints, and he started stroking her neck, giving her his puppy-dog I-want-sex look. Not in the mood, thinking why didn't he just ask, but knowing she might as well get it over with, Andrea grabbed his hand, led him to his parents' bedroom -- his was, as usual, a odorous mess. After perfunctory foreplay he entered her -- why did such a big guy have such a small dick -- and she put on the act that had become part of their love-making (if that was the right word anymore), moaning and groaning and squirming until he emptied himself in her. She told him it was wonderful, he was wonderful, the most perfectest lover in the world. God, men believed anything.

They headed back downstairs to hang some more.
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* * * * *​

The kids out, Bree put on a nightgown skimpy enough to show off the goods but not so skimpy as to be intimidating, played with her clit until she was more than ready, and smelling of sex found her husband in the living room. She cooed, rubbed his shoulders. In the bedroom she took him in her mouth, got him hard. He entered her from behind and she, rubbing her clit, already primed, came quickly. Then, surprised to have accomplished something he hadn't in months, he lost both his concentration and erection.

He returned to the living room and his television, but his mind was elsewhere. Yeah, he'd lost his sex-drive, but he was sick of feeling guilty about it. If he wasn't interested in sex that was his right. In a world where one's libido could reign free, one had as much right to go sexless, to focus on work, sports, or anything else, as to have sex.

Still that, didn't solve Bree's problem, who was hornier than ever. He loved his wife and wanted this marriage to work. And except for the sex, things were good. Bryan and Andrea's relationship was getting better every day and Bryan and Bree, after a difficult beginning, had really bonded. In fact sometimes, the way she looked at him when he entered a room; it seemed she had a little crush on him. Not that he blamed her, there was something magnetic about that kid.

While her husband mused in front of the television, Bree was in the shower. She'd told herself she wouldn't, but she did. When her husband entered her in her mind's eye it had been Bryan. Now she turned towards the spigot, let the water run down her body, twirled a finger on her clit, rolled a nipple between thumb and forefinger, imagined her stepson hammering her body with his oversized dick.
​

* * * * *​

Her husband asleep in bed, Bree was wearing a sheer short nightie, holding a glass of wine, sitting in the dark, listening to music, running, then re-running, the evening's events through her mind. She could no longer dismiss it as a passing infatuation; she had a thing for her stepson. He'd always been intelligent, stable and confident, but in the last months, as she'd come to appreciate him, to treat him like an adult, she'd found him attentive, supportive, open-minded, perceptive, respectful, assertive and decisive. In the past few weeks she'd felt a chemistry between them. He might not be the heavily muscled man that has always been her (and her daughter's) weakness, but his slender body was lean and fit and oh so desirable.
​