Incest/Taboo High School Yearbook

"Too bad. What product did Hodgson assign you to market?"

"A walker."

"A walker? One of those things elderly people use to help them walk?"

"Yeah."

"He's a dickhead. What would two such beautiful young women know about walkers."

Serena's displeasure - had this nerd just commented on her looks? - was not offset by his criticism of Hodgson, as Bryan continued, "Maybe we should try brainstorming."

Before Serena could reject the idea Andrea said, "What's that?"

"A technique for generating ideas on group projects like this. We used it with the Yearbook staff. You suggest any thought, any idea, you have and make a list of them. No criticism is allowed. You don't reject, grade, or evaluate; just collect. It stimulates creativity. When done you put the list aside, wait a day or two, then return to it and pick out the best."

Seeing the look on Serena's face - she made no effort to disguise that she thought the idea stupid - Bryan said, "Serena I know, you think it's the Nerdbook, but why not try. I'll go first. How about something straight-forward. A television commercial opens with an elderly lady, slim attractive dignified, walking on a rough but inviting surface, like a brick sidewalk in Savannah. She's smiling. Then you cut to a product testimonial from a distinguished older physician and return to clips of old people praising the walker in both general and particular terms - how it helped one with her Parkinson's, how it gave another his life back - so the commercial covers everything."

Serena didn't respond, her silence thick with disapproval. Andrea, making eye contract with her stepbrother, filled the void. "Okay. How about this? An infomercial on one of those cable channels that runs 1950's and 1960's television programs. It would look like an impartial medical inquiry about choosing the right walker, but the right one would always be ours."

Breaking the rules Serena said, "Who watches those channels?"

Enjoying the chance to goad Serena, Andrea said, "Old people. Our target audience ain't big on social media."

Bryan said, "Guys, remember the rules," then threw out an idea.

They worked for another thirty minutes, with Serena, if not wholly dropping her hostility, relaxing a bit, adding a couple of suggestions to the pot. After forwarding the notes he'd made to Serena and Andrea, Bryan said, "Let's review the list tonight, then get together tomorrow or the day after to discuss."

Andrea said, "Good idea. Serena, how about my place, this time tomorrow?"

At the moment Serena was of two minds. On the one hand: she was cool; she was beautiful; it was her right, her duty, to exploit nerds. They'd made more progress in the last thirty minutes than they had to date. If this nerd wanted to do her work, who was she to say no? On the other hand, who did this nerd and his flat-assed sister think they were, trying to arrange her schedule. Did they think this project made them friends? Would they expect her to acknowledge them in public?

"No, I like doing it right here, its more convenient for my tennis practice."

Eye's boring in, Andrea leaned forward, ready for a fight, but Bryan placed a hand on her forearm and said, "I'll ask Ms. Richards about using the room again."

Wondering, not for the first time, why the very hot very classy and very well-off Bianca Richards had fixated on Bryan, Serena said, "Good, now I've got tennis practice," packed her things, and with a desultory, "See ya," breezed out the door.

Andrea exploded. "What a fucking stuck-up bitch. She's too important to come to our home or us to go to hers! Stupid cunt. And did you hear how she kept putting you down, shit after you tried to help save her ass?"

"Yeah, but consider the source. Thanks, by the way, for standing up for me. It's appreciated."

"You're welcome, but don't tell anybody. Not that it was for you. I just couldn't let that bitch get away with it."

With that there was a knock and Bianca Richards, smiling, leaning against the door frame, arms folded across her ample chest, said, "You guys finish? Where's Serena?"

"We're done. Serena split, said she had to get to tennis practice."

"Bryan, would you mind staying a few minutes. I'd like you to take a look at some ideas I had for the editor's guide."

Andrea said, "Bryan, I can stick around and give you a ride home."

Bianca said, "That's sweet of you Andrea, but we may be awhile. I'll give your brother a ride."
​

* * * * *​

Feet propped up on Bianca's desk, Bryan said, "So you listened to the whole thing. What did you think?"

Leaning against the corner of that desk, enjoying the pressure on her backside, wishing it was Bryan's dick, Bianca said, "What do I think? Well, first of all, what's going on with your sister? She was nice to you, spoke up for you, defended you. She's also buying into the team-working-together-thing. "

Bryan deflected the question with, "I guess I'm growing on her," but he'd been asking himself the same thing, and didn't have an answer. In any clash between cool kid and nerd, Andrea sided with cool, family or not. Now his stepsister was defending him from Serena. She'd deferred to his leadership when he'd joined she and Serena. And why had she returned Bree's shoes to the master bedroom without a fuss, forfeiting the opportunity to humiliate or blackmail him. The behavior was consistent with the white noise machine, but the machine worked in tiny imperceptible steps, not in leaps. He'd have to check the equipment when he got home.

Bianca watched Bryan: she loved his face. He was thinking about something, but his jocular response said he'd talk about it later, when he was ready. Giving him space Bianca said, "I understand that, you've been growing on me since we met. So, now that Andrea's coming around on Hodgson's project, how do we get Serena to play nice?"

"Y'know, there's no good reason for Serena and Andrea to be enemies. They should be friends. They're both beautiful narcissists, drama queens, fashionistas. They care about the same things, are contemptuous of the same people - which, admittedly, is most everyone. They're shallow, but not stupid: always ready with a nasty zinger and have a genius for manipulating people. I've seen it: five minutes after they've put on a friendly facade some poor smuck they've mistreated for years decides Serena or Andrea is really her friend. They just misunderstood. Then the smuck does what Serena or Andrea wants and starts getting shat on again.

"The problem is they both want to be Queen Bee and there's only one hive. But that they see other as the competition reveals an underlying respect. The best athlete in school doesn't worry about me stealing his crown. I was hoping they're mutual antipathy for Hodgson would let them bury the hatchet, but every time they sit down together they're ready for a fight."

"You've got it pegged, but what to do my darling?"

"Andrea's trying, we need Serena to do the same. Get her to dial it down, come to the meetings in a constructive mood, not ready to play bumper cars. We need her to use a white noise box. It won't fix the problem, but it's a start."

It would be, Bianca thought, a small beginning, but a beginning. The white noise machine did calm things down.

"How are you going to get her to take one from you?"

"You mean," and adopting Serena's tone of voice Bryan said, "Yeah right, nerdboy, keep nerdtoy to yourself."

Laughing, Bianca said, "Exactly."

"You're right, she'll never take it from me, and even if she did she wouldn't use it. From you however, the best dressed, Jaguar drivingest, hottest teacher in the district, with a wealthy husband, from you she'd take it."

Bianca, thoughtful for a second, added, "You're right. Especially if she was told she couldn't have it, if she thought she was putting one over on you, and me."

"This evening, while I'm working on the white noise box, you think about how to ensure Serena uses it. We'll get together with Bree over breakfast tomorrow, discuss everything."

Unbuttoning her blouse, revealing the white lacy bra she wore underneath, Bianca said, "That sounds like a lot to do, but still, do ya' reckon' we can find the time to squeeze in some fun."
​

* * * * *​

That evening Bryan finished Serena's white noise box. Its programming, encouraging a friendship with Andrea, had been straightforward and gone quicker than he expected. He was getting good at this. Now, earphones on, he listened to what had played on his stepsister's machine the night before, then the two nights before that.

Why the transformation in his stepsister? The changes in the material over the three days had been tiny. If you didn't know they were there you wouldn't notice them. He checked the equipment, found no glitch, no problem. Was Andrea especially susceptible to the process? No, up to now Andrea had progressed like Bianca and Bree, the difference between any day undetectable from the day before or after.

He took off his headphones, leaned back, and calling up a Mozart piano sonata on his phone cleared his mind of details. He'd been looking at the trees, now it was time to visit the forest. Why the leap forward? What was different about last night? There was no change in the white noise machine's programming. No aliens had visited, no witches, wizards, or ghosts had dropped in, what was different about last night, what was different about last night? What was ... Oh shit...

He'd missed it because he'd been focusing on the machine and it wasn't the machine, except it was. He'd fucked Bree last night, the first time he'd done so with complete abandon when Edward and Andrea were also in the house. After months of flawless performance he'd been so confident in the deep sleep induced by the white noise machines that he hadn't cautioned Bree to modulate her moans or modulated his own.

Andrea had slept a few feet away. Her subconscious mind wide open she'd heard everything. Her subconscious would have sponged it up. The noise was raw, sexual, and ecstatic, affirming everything the songs extolled. Was that what happened? He couldn't be sure, but he had no other explanation. He'd have to replicate the experiment.

And whatever the cause, Andrea had leaped weeks ahead in her training. Bryan reset her white noise machine, increasing the power and intensity of its training.
​

* * * * *​

The next morning, wondering whether her mother and Bryan would continue yesterday's flirtatious behavior, Andrea hit the snooze button only once. Still, when she got downstairs she found only Edward. "Where are Mom and Bryan?"

"They left a few minutes ago. They're meeting Bianca for breakfast. They said they had some things to discuss."

"What things?"

"I don't know, it's none of my business."

Taken aback, they were talking about Edward's wife and son after all, Andrea started to ask, "If it's none of your business, then who's in charge here?" but she swallowed the words, for an answer was assembling in her mind: Bryan was in charge.
​

* * * * *​

Serena would normally dodge a lunch invitation from a faculty member; she had better things to do, but Bianca, Bryan, and Bree had correctly measured their prey. When Bianca mentioned a feature article in the city's eponymous magazine and a video on its web-site about the state tennis champion who eschewed scholarships from traditional collegiate powers, Vanderbilt, Stanford, Florida, the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, to attend historically black Spellman, Serena and her vanity were hooked, for she knew this was no idle promise. The magazine was part of The Roberts Companies print division.

Opening the door to her office, gesturing to a chair facing her desk, Bianca said, "Serena, it's so good of you to come. I appreciate your taking the time. I need to apologize, it's a mess in here. It's been a hectic day; I didn't get the chance to clean up. Can I get you a bottled water?"

Although not in its usually immaculate condition, Bianca's office - a book lay open and a few papers were scattered about - was far from a mess, but Bianca knew opening the conversation with an apology and an offer to serve would feed this young woman's ego and she wanted the little bitch at her entitled worst.

"That would be wonderful Ms. Richards, thank you."

Removing a bottle of water - good stuff, imported from Poland - from a small refrigerator in the corner of her office, Bianca placed it and a napkin on the desk before Serena, then gestured to a white plastic box on a side table.

"Serena, do you mind if I turn this on?"

"What is it?"

"A noise box. It eliminates distracting background noises, helps me concentrate. There's one in the Yearbook room, where you met with Bryan and Andrea yesterday."

Serena said, "Yeah, I saw it," then curious. "Go ahead."

For the next thirty minutes the two women discussed the article and video, making swift and, because the story would portray her positively, Serena thought excellent progress. When they finished, as she shut down her computer, Bianca, a hint of a plea in her voice, said, "Serena, I shouldn't have mentioned the noise box. I'd appreciate if you'd keep it to yourself."

"Why?"

"Bryan Danielson gave it to me. It's something he put together, an over-the-counter product and a bit of programming. Bryan had one in the Yearbook room and when I saw how everyone was focused, how much they got done, I asked him to make one for me. He was reluctant, said it was just an experiment, but I talked him into it. I didn't think of it at the time, but I broke the rule prohibiting teachers from accepting gifts from students. As for Bryan, the last thing I suspect he wants is for word to get around. People would be lining up for these machines and I'm sure he has better things to do."

Throughout the rest of the day Serena replayed the conversation with Ms. Richards in her mind. The time Serena had spent with Andrea and her nerdy stepbrother yesterday and with Ms. Richards today had been productive. Serena was a busy girl, she could use help getting things done. That it might embarrass Ms. Richards or be a burden on Bryan? Who the fuck were they to say she couldn't have what she wanted?

Serena imagined Ms. Richards asking Bryan for a machine. When that bitch turned on the charm Nerd-boy must have melted. And if Ms. Richards could do it, so could she. Ms. Richards was hot and all, but she was pushing thirty.
​

* * * * *​

That afternoon Andrea was surprised to find her mother home; she rarely left work early. When Bree mentioned Bianca Richards had just texted, she was giving Bryan a ride home, Andrea headed for her room. Curious after recent events, she wanted to watch the three of them without being seen. Her second floor bedroom window was perfect.

When she heard an unfamiliar purr in the driveway, Andrea went to the window. It was Ms. Richards' Jaguar: top down, Bryan driving, Bianca sitting in the passenger seat, sunglasses on, thick brown hair loose. Stopping the car, Bryan walked around and opened the passenger door, offering Bianca his hand. She took it and stood. Bryan closed the door behind her.

Bree came out of the garage. The women exchanged kisses and then, Bryan leaning on the car, the women standing close to him, they began talking. Bree lay a hand on Bryan's shoulder and absent-mindedly, as if doing it for the millionth time, kneaded his neck muscles. Holding Bryan's hand, Bianca ran a perfectly manicured nail on his fingers and palm. Imagining how good that felt, an involuntary shudder ran down Andrea's body.

What were they talking about? Whatever it was, it was serious - the three of them were focused, paying close attention to each other — but not so serious that an occasional comment wouldn't leave everyone laughing. And while they talked freely, Andrea noticed that in the end the women deferred to Bryan, nodding their heads in agreement as he summed up.

Most of her classmates, if surrounded by two such stunning attentive women, would turn into fumbling bumbling fools. Those who didn't would puff up into arrogant buffoons. But Bryan was calm, in control. How had she so badly underestimated her stepbrother? Was Bryan bad at being a high school boy because he was already a man?

When the conversation ended Bryan and Bree walked Bianca to the driver side of the car. The women kissed, then Bianca, laying her palm flat on his chest, kissed Bryan's cheek, whispered something in his ear, and slipped into the driver's seat. Damn, the woman made sitting sexy. As Bryan and Bree, holding hands, stepped away, Bianca waved good-bye and backed out the driveway.

Andrea hurried downstairs, joined moments later by Bree and Bryan.

"Your stepbrother has an excellent idea: Family Move Night. I'll have Edward pick-up dinner on the way home. Then we'll pop some popcorn, watch a movie. Bryan, you pick the cuisine; Andrea and I will choose the movie."

Surprised that she didn't she hate the idea, Andrea said, "Yeah a movie without aliens, where nothing blows up; something romantic and gooey."

Bree said, "I have just the thing. Bianca recommended it, Malcolm & Marie. She said it's stormy, steamy, sexy and stars some very pretty people, Zendaya and John David Washington."

Looking to Bryan, a teasing friendly taunt to her voice, Andrea said, "So what do you think stepbrother?"

"Gooey away ladies."
​

* * * * *​

After eating - Bryan chose Thai - bags and plastic utensils in the garbage, dirty dishes in the dishwasher, leftovers in the refrigerator, Bree excused herself. She wanted to put on something less confining. While she did Andrea remained in the kitchen catching up on text messages and Edward hung up his coat and tie, exchanged his work shoes for favorite slippers, straightened and cleaned the kitchen, then started on the popcorn.

Minutes later Bryan said, "Movie's ready to go."

Returning to the living room, carrying bowls of popcorn, Edward and Andrea found Bree cuddled into a corner of the couch, covered in a silk sheet, legs tucked under her body. She'd combed out her hair and touched-up her make-up. Bryan sat on the floor in front of the couch.

"You comfortable son?"

"Yeah. Bree says her feet hurt after a day in heels in the courthouse and its marble floor. I'm going to give her a foot rub during the movie. Everybody ready?"

Edward and Andrea, sitting in their favorite chairs, said, "Yeah."

Bryan called up the movie and flipped the remote to his father. "Okay Bree, the baby oil."

"Oh I'm sorry Bryan, I left it in the bathroom. Edward honey, do you mind, I'm so comfy."

Pausing the movie, Edward said, "Of course not dear," returning moments later to hand his son a small bottle of oil. "Here champ, take good care of her."

"Will do Dad. Ready Bree."

Bryan ducked between Bree's legs and scooted forward on the couch. Her legs draped over his shoulders, her feet resting on his chest, Bryan squirted baby oil onto his hands, rubbed them together, saturating them, then lathered Bree's right foot. When he reached her toes, working the oil on and between them, Bree squealed. Bryan then gave her left foot the same preparatory treatment, but as he worked her toes Bree's squeal morphed into a low moan.

Her feet now ready, Bryan started with her right. Beginning with her Achilles tendon he worked down her foot. Ankle bones, top of the foot, sides, ball, heel, arch, staying at each spot until her muscles flowed with his fingers. When he turned to her toes Bree responded with her most intense moan to date.

Laying Bree's right foot on his chest Bryan turned to her left, giving it the same ardent treatment. Bree was paying no attention to the movies as her blatantly sexual moans, groans, and sighs grew softer, more personal, more intimate.

Andrea glanced at her stepfather. Somehow he remained fixated on the movie. Zendaya and John David were hot, but so was what was going on in the real world right in front of him. How could he just sit there? This wasn't a foot massage, it was foreplay.

As Bryan continued to work on Bree's foot Andrea started to fell like an intruder, a third wheel on someone else's date. She considered leaving, but knew she wouldn't. Heart and pulse racing, she couldn't tear herself away.

Bryan lowered Bree's left foot to his chest and returned to the right,

"Oh baby, you don't need to do that."

"Does it feel good Mommy?"

"Oh yes baby, you make Mommy feel so good."

"That's what I want, to make you feel good. I'll keep working your feet," and directing his voice to the room said, "unless we're distracting you guys. We're not too noisy, are we?"

Andrea, distracted as hell, said, "No, I'm fine."

Edward, eyes glued to the television, said nothing and Bree, her voice sharp and reprimanding, said, "Edward, Bryan asked you a question, answer him."

"Sorry, watching the movie, what is it son?'

"I want to make sure Bree and I aren't disturbing you with the foot massage."

"No son, not at all. I'm looking to you to take care of Bree."

"Will do Dad."

On his second visit to Bree's right foot Bryan's fingers dug deeper, probing previously unaccesible layers of muscle. Eyes closed, breathing flattening out, Bree's body melted, molding to the contours of the couch.

Andrea wondered, was she overreacting? Who doesn't want a foot massage. Bryan had been at this over an hour. Hell, the couple of times that Todd rubbed her feet he'd whipped his dick out after two minutes, claiming his Herculean effort entitled him to an immediate blow job.

What would feel like to have Bryan work her feet?

Shit, what was she thinking, this was her stepbrother the dork.

Andrea turned to the screen, determined to focus on the movie. While she'd missed much of it, she's started to catch up when Bree let out a long contented sigh. Andrea's eyes flitted in her direction and saw that Bree, to give Bryan a better angle as he now worked her left foot, had rolled onto her side, partially dislodging the blanket.

Whatever her mother was wearing under the blanket, it wasn't much.

Unable to resist, Andrea kept glancing at her mother, trying to figure it out what she was wearing, but she couldn't be sure. The areas of exposed skin were small and the flickering light from the television minimal.

When Bryan finished Bree's left foot, lowering it to his chest, Bree said, "Thank you Bryan, that was wonderful. Now come here and keep Mommy warm," and pulled aside her blanket, patting the spot directly beside her.

And while it took but a second, Andrea saw it. Her mother was wearing a light pink camisole, the outline of her hard nipples plainly visible, and black silk panties. Nothing else.

Bryan settled in behind Bree, who leaning against his side and squiggled. The two bodies merged and Bree turned, kissed his cheek, and whispered something in his ear. A sly smile formed on his face and Bryan wrapped his arms around Bree's chest. Bree lay her hand on Bryan's leg above his knee and fingers bent, ran her nails up and down, gliding on the sensitive skin of his thigh. With a soft murmur of pleasure Bryan placed his hand on his stepmother's flat stomach.

Andrea wondered. Was that hand on or under the camisole.

Hopelessly aroused Andrea turned her lower body away from the couple and pressed her middle and ring fingers to her sex through her jeans, swallowing her moans.

The film came to a close.

Edward said, "I guess we'll never know if Malcolm and Marie make it. Thank you son, Family Movie Night was a great idea. We'll have to do it again soon."

Bree said, "I'm glad you liked it dear. Your son is wonderful, isn't he? Now why don't you go grab your shower, there are some things Bryan and I need to discuss."

Watching her stepfather leave, part of Andrea wanted to stay, to see if she could out wait Bryan and Bree, she if see could get them to reveal how little her mother was wearing. But she was also turned-on, as turned-on as she could remember. She headed upstairs to masturbate.
​

* * * * *​

Having showered, looking in the bathroom mirror, Bree applied a light touch of lipstick, a shade that complemented her short red hair and nails. The white tee-shirt she wore was simple, sexy, and among Bryan's favorites, covering her bright red bush, but barely. Every step she took provided a glimpse of it and when she leaned forward her ass would be on full display. Scanning her body her eyes came to rest on her round "B" breasts. Her hard nipples and the rosy red areolas were evident in the fabric and if you were vulgar, if you stared, you could make out the outline of those areolas.

She loved it when he stared.

Bree was an addict, had been since their first frenzied fuck. She couldn't explain it. At first she hadn't liked Bryan, but that had been her fault. What, after all, was wrong with him? That he was smart, that he wasn't interested in the latest fashion, that he was bored by the Celebrity-of-the-Day? That he wasn't happy when Bree and Andrea moved in and disrupted his life?

He wasn't her type, except he was, she just hadn't known it. During her twenties her type had been the cutest (if not the smartest) guy or gal she could find who loved to play on the wild side. In her thirties she'd thought Edward, Bryan's father, was her type. Nice-looking, good job, faithful, he catered to her, let her do most anything she wanted. Her friends said she had him tied around her finger and if that wasn't exactly right, it wasn't exactly wrong either.

Then they'd fucked and what had been a good life with the father had become a perfect, well almost perfect, life with the son. She knew she wasn't supposed to like this new life. She was a successful career woman, a feminist, and there was no pretense of equality here. Bryan was in charge, she'd do anything he asked, but he didn't ask much. He treated her as his equal, was supportive of her career and never, like other men she'd known, try to dictate the details of her life under the pretense of helping her out. He didn't tell her how to run her business, what to eat or drink, who should be her friends.

And the sex. The sex was not only out of this world, but Bree discovered in herself a maturity and wisdom she'd never imagined. Neither jealous nor possessive, she was always ready for something new. Bryan had never asked anything of her she hadn't come to love. And then there was Bianca, Bryan's first conquest and Bree's best friend and sweet sweet lover.

As to the almost perfect? Bryan had assured her that Andrea would soon join Bree and Bianca as his lovers and that her Edward, like Bianca's Roy, would accept Bryan as head of the household. It hadn't seemed possible. Andrea loathed her brilliant stepbrother and Edward, a successful capable man, showed no inclination of stepping aside in favor of his son, but Bryan, as always, had been right. That evening she and Bryan had flaunted their affair and it had gone just as she, Bianca, and Bryan had planned: Andrea hadn't been able to keep her eyes off them and Edward treated it as the norm, as if she already belonged to Bryan.

Bree's phone flashed. It was a text from Bryan; Andrea was asleep. Bree flipped off the bathroom light, opened the door. Edward, breathing deep and steady, was comatose. Bree backed out of the room, leaving, as Bryan had instructed, the door open, and headed for the stairs. Bryan was standing at the top, framed by Andrea's open bedroom door.

She was so fucking hot. Neither required foreplay; the entire evening - the flirting, the physical intimacy - had been foreplay. Now they'd fuck while Andrea and Edward slept a few feet away and Bryan had told her she could be as loud and vocal as she wanted. She loved his naughty games.

Her time in the gym evident, Bree moved effortlessly up the stairs, and wrapped her arms around Bryan, pressing him to the wall. Her tongue charged inside his mouth and dueled with his. She slid her hands up his body, dug her fingernails into his arms, held him tight. After frantic minutes of kissing she pulled her tee-shirt's neckline down, exposing a pale-white freckled breast. Bryan ducked his head, licked it with the flat of her tongue, once, twice, a third time, then, closing his mouth on her nipple, sucked as much tit into his mouth as he could manage, held her nipple between his teeth, lashed it with his tongue. Shocks of pleasure coursing through her, Bree arched her back, shoved her tit deeper into her stepson's mouth. His hands on her ass, Bryan picked up Bree and turned 180 degrees.

Her back on the wall, Bryan pressed his body to hers, pinned her in place. They locked mouths: his tongue slid across and behind her lips; their tongues tangled and caressed. Bryan pressed his knee to her thighs, forcing her legs open. With kisses and soft bites he moved down her neck to her collarbone.

Loving the sensation of being dominated, Bree pulled Bryan's shirt off his body, tearing buttons off in the process, reached for his belt, felt his bulge. He was big, not the biggest she'd known, but plenty big and by god he was the best.

Bree worked the latch of his belt free, searched for, found the tab of his zipper, and after two failed attempts - her hands were shaking in need and excitement - yanked it down, curled his fingers on the hem of his shorts, yanked again. With his shorts and boxers around his thighs, Bryan slid his arms up Bree's back and pulled her into him; her breasts flattened on his chest. She ran her hands through his hair and kissed him, a firm hard kiss, then pulling her mouth away spat out the words, "I want you," and fell to her knees, pulling his pants down his legs and over his foot.

His hard pink dick bobbed in the air, bouncing off the side of her face.

Taking hold of his shaft, squeezing, Bree looked up.

"Sloppy and wet or neat and tidy?"

"Improvise."

Loving his smell, taking a deep whiff, Bree said, "Yes sir," and rubbed his cock-head on her face, leaving behind an invisible trail of pre-cum, then wrapped her hand on the shaft and pumped. Smearing a heavy drop of pre-cum on the head with her thumb, she kissed his shaft, below the cockhead, then licked it with the tip of her tongue before swallowing him, sliding her lips up his tool while continuing to lick the head.

"Mmmmmm, yeah..., that's it."

Bree rolled her head, moving him inside her mouth.

"Mmmmmmmmmmnnhhhh..."

Eager to display her skills, Bree sucked until her cheeks were concave, twisted her hand on his shaft, then took him deeper into her mouth until, desperate for breath, she pulled her head off him to fill her lungs with air.

Letting go of the shaft, Bree palmed his balls, sucked one, then the other, into her mouth, forcing them back out through her tightly compressed lips with her tongue. She licked the shaft, root to tip, and again took each of his testicles into her mouth, where she reverently worshiped it with her soft supple tongue.

Releasing his balls, she tilted his dick forward, looked up, and took him into her mouth. Pausing half-way down his shaft, she tilted her head and kept going, made another slight adjustment, and swallowed again until all but an inch of him was stuffed in her mouth.

Making slight choking sound, she looking at him with pleadings eyes, reached for Bryan's hand, placed it on the back of her head. Taking over, Bryan pushed her face down the remaining length of his dick, moved her head back, then did it again. Bree gagged with each thrust: "Gwock. Gwock. Gwock. Gwock. Gwack. GWOCK. GWOCK. GWACK."

Reaching between his legs, Bree probed the opening of his asshole, slipped the tip of her finger inside. Bryan held her head in place and thrust hard into her mouth and throat.

"GWOCK. GWOCK. GWACK GWOCK. GWECK. GWACK GWOCK. GWECK. GWACK."

Knowing she'd reached her limit, Bryan pulled his dick from her mouth. Spittle dripping from swollen numb lips, Bree scrambled to her feet, leaned against the wall, and pushed her body into Bryan. His hard dick nestled in her ass cheeks, Bree squeezed the tight muscles of her derriere.

"You like that stud?"

Pushing his twitching cock against her backside Bryan groaned, "Fuckin' yes."

Reaching between her legs Bree found his dick, tilted it, slid it between her legs. The fat cockhead pressed to her vagina, the shaft on her vulva, she rotated her hips, sliding her warm wet sex on him.

"That's so good, Mommy wants your cock."

Changing her motion, she moved her hips up and down. The inner walls of her vulva splayed open, wrapping themselves on the shaft. Bryan's dick slid up and down her soft wet vulva, his hard thick cockhead crushing her distended clit.

"Oh Bryan, oh fuck, so good, so good, so good."

Bryan felt a passing moment of pity for his classmates. They fucked each other. They knew nothing of the joy of fucking experienced women wholly enthralled to you.

Bree took hold of Bryan's prick and slid it up the crack of her ass. When the head reached her anus, she pushed, lodging his cockhead in her sphincter.

"Remember baby, when you took Mommy Bree's asshole. You made Mommy so happy she saved it for you. You want to fuck her there again?"

Bryan felt her sphincter flex, felt his cock moving past it, but knew that while Bree would gladly take him up the ass, after her recent anal reaming she'd be more than sore. Tempting, but best to give her time to recover.

"Don't worry, I'll plow your hot little ass soon, but tonight I want your cunt."

Lubricating her fingers in the copious flow of her sex, Bree dragged his cock back down the valley of her ass and between her legs. She ground her throbbing clit on his cockhead then, tilting her hips forward, slid her clit on his shaft.

"Uuuuuuuu, nnnuuuummmmmmmm, oh god Bryan, uuunnnnhhhhhhhhhhhh uuuuuuu,nnnuuuummmmmmmm, oh god, oh god, oh god."

Her burning clit was getting bigger and bigger. She needed him to fuck her. Moving his cockhead to the mouth of her vagina Bree jerked down, impaling herself on him.

At first neither moved. Bree was lost in the thick hard pulsating pole crammed inside her most sensitive place, Bryan in the warm wet tight cunt wrapped on his dick.

Then Bree squeezed down on him.

"Ennnnyyyyyyyyyyyyah.

"Is this what you want, my cunt on your perfect cock?"

Bryan moved his hands under Bree's tee-shirt, squeezed her breasts, swiped her nipples with the side of his thumbs, pressed his thumbs into her breasts, moved them in circles.

He was not gentle, but she did not want gentle.

"That's so good baby, Mommy loves the way you fuck her. Mommy loves your big dick."

Rotating her hips, Bree moved his cock around inside herself. Bryan matched her movement, increasing the friction and pressure of their bodies on each other and pushed, driving his prick deeper inside her and forcing her onto her toes. With the full weight of her body pressed to his hips, his cock slipped even deeper inside.

Her arms flat on the wall, Bree clamped down, squeezing her stepson's dick, jacking him with her strong pussy. Bree was grateful for the hours she and Bianca spent in the gym and for the floor exercises that strengthened her kegels, allowing her to squeeze her cunt on her stepson's dick with this kind of force. In the future she'd work harder, turn herself into a perfect fuck-toy.

Bryan began thrusting, his hips banging against Bree's ass. His breathing deepened, a sheen of sweat formed on his neck.

"Oh my darling, oh my sweet baby boy. I love the way you fuck me."

Riding the crest of an evening of sexual tension Bryan and Bree fucked, animal fucked, hard fast deep. Bree, bracing her hands on the wall, bucked her hips, thrashing her pussy on Bryan's cock. Behind her Bryan, one hand curled around her body, twisting and pulling a nipple, the other on her hip, directed her movements. Wanting to plant the noise deep in Andreas's subconscious, Bryan delivered one, then another, loud sharp smack to Bree's ass.

"Oh yes baby, spank Mommy's naughty butt."

They fucked and fucked until, feeling the pressure build, fearing if she didn't come soon she'd explode, Bree jerked her hips hard on Bryan's cock.

'FUCK ME, FUCK ME, FUCK ME, FUCK ME, FUCK ME, FUCK ME."

Bryan jammed into her; his cock pulsated. Bree clenched her cunt, muttered an incoherent, "Give it to me!," and with a hard, "Uuunnnnhhhh," exploding from his solar plexus, Bryan came, spraying his thick hot cum into her pussy.

With that Bree came. Her pussy spasmed, her body shook, she jibbered nonsense syllable after nonsense syllable and then, before her first orgasm ended she was coming again as another orgasm ripped through her convulsing body.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck."

She wasn't sure how long it had been, but her mind was peeking out from the sweet gentle fog that enveloped her whenever they made love. She was leaning against the wall, breathing heavy. Her skin was damp; Bryan's strong gentle hand rested on her hip.

"You okay?"

"More than okay, fucking amazing my darling."

Running his hands up her body, his fingers coming together between her breasts, Bryan pulled her towards him. Unable to offer resistance, she found herself standing, her back pressed to his chest. Bryan kissed her ear and she turned her head. Their mouths came together in a long languid kiss. Bryan's cock, so recently iron, slid from her body. She registered her protest with a soft moan into his mouth.

As the kiss ended she turned to face him, draped her arms around his neck. "I'm so happy you and Bianca invited me to play, but I'm pooped. I could use a big glass of ice water. Care to join me?"

He slipped his hands into hers and closing Andrea's door they headed downstairs.
​

* * * *​

Emptying the last two bottles of water left in the refrigerator into plastic ice tea glasses half filled with ice, Bree made a mental note - add water to the shopping list. She handed Bryan one, kissed his lips, and the lovers pulled chairs from under the breakfast table, turned them to face each other.

Opening her sex for inspection, Bree, rested her foot on the front edge of Bryan's chair between his legs.

"Would you like me to shave it?"

"No, I love that bright red bush, it matches your hair."

"Trim it then? You have Bianca trim hers."

"I do. I like her pussy one way, meticulously manicured, and yours a different way, wild untamed. Maybe some day I'll change my mind."

"I guess that's an advantages of multiple lovers."

"One of many."

She tilted her foot, still slick with oil from the foot rub, and touched Bryan's cockhead with her big toe, moved it up and down the underside of his shaft, working his Corpus Spongiosum and frenulum.

Bryan closed his eyes. His dick, filling with blood, stiffened.

Was he ready for another round?

Bree's right foot joined her left. Pushing on the inside of Bryan's legs, spreading them, she curved the soles of her feet , holding his dick between them. With an up and down motion she began working his staff.

Bree and Bryan had one more fuck in them.
​

* * * * *​

Andrea woke, checked her phone. The alarm would go off in two minutes. She hit the snooze button and closed her eyes, but for the first time in memory found she wasn't sleepy. In fact, she felt hyper-alert.

Her thoughts were on last night.

How had she missed it? Her ridiculous conviction that her stepbrother was a nerd had blinded her to what was happening around her: the way her mother talked about Bryan, looked at him, touched him; the way she solicited his opinion and sought his approval. And most of all the way they came back from their multi-hour "errands" or from visits to Bianca Richards. Shopping never left one with that kind of glow or that kind of smile.

Oh shit, Bianca Richards? Over the past months her mother and Ms. Richards had developed a friendship closer and more intimate than any she'd remembered. And Bianca Richards adored her stepbrother. Like every other kid at school Andrea had been unable to make sense of it, but now it was clear. Bryan, Bianca, and Bree were a throuple. Her stepbrother was not the school's biggest nerd, he was the school's biggest stud.

And her stepfather? As Bree's relationship with Bryan became ever more open and intimate Edward had done nothing. As Bryan had become the home's Alpha, the one everyone looked to lead, Edward had done nothing. Andrea had wondered how Edward missed what was going on around him, but the answer was that he hadn't. He had accepted it.

Hearing voices in the kitchen, Andrea rushed downstairs. Edward was unloading the dishwasher and Bryan sitting on a countertop, Bree standing directly in front of him, between his legs. Smiling, she broke off a piece of a bagel and slipped it into his mouth.

"Hey Edward, hey guys. You look comfy."

Turning to face her daughter, Bree placed her hands on Bryan's thighs and leaned her body back on his.

"I was feeding your stepbrother breakfast. You sleep well?"

"Great actually."

Bree said, "Good," then checking the clock, "I've got a status conference with Judge Pendergraft this morning. Gotta grab my briefcase and go."

"Dad, would you get Bree's briefcase."

"Yes son."

Bree stepped away from the counter and extended Bryan a hand. Sliding to the floor, Bryan took hold of it and, as if they'd done it a thousand times before, Bree moved into her stepson's arms. They kissed. As their tongues played Bree slid her hands up his body.

When the kiss ended Bree took half a step back, wet her lips, and with hooded eyes said, "Enjoy school darling, and give Bianca a kiss from me."

"Will do."

The women watched Bryan leave the room and head up the stairs.

"Y'now Mom, my stepbrother has a nice ass."

"That he does daughter, that he does."
​

* * * *​

It had, of course, been a test. When Andrea didn't react to the way they held each other, Bryan and Bryan moved on to a good-bye kiss that left no doubt. Last night's experiment had been a rousing success.​