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Resigned to her fate, Mrs. Hancock stopped trying to get away. In fact, she actually arched her ass upwards to facilitate deeper entry and I obliged by digging in as far as I could. It was hard to hold on to her sweaty waist so I grabbed her wrists and tried to keep her in place that way. When that proved unsatisfactory, I kept hold of her left hand and grabbed her hair with my right.
I wished I could see because in the dark I couldn't tell if she was still facing the floor or if her head was pulled up and looking at the wall. I imagined the latter and somehow that brought me closer to coming. I finished her that way and as soon as I started spurting I grabbed her shoulders and pulled, grinding my cock inside her so my cum would reach into the farthest corners of her cunt.
I did it, Mom!
I stayed on my knees after that, panting, while Mrs. Hancock wiggled forward until I slid out of her and then crawled away. I heard her straighten her dress so surmised that she had stood up. A few seconds later, the door slid back and then I heard her climbing the stairs. I waited for what may have been ten minutes but it could have been more or less; long enough for her to leave, anyway, before I turned on the basement light, found my clothes and got dressed. I went upstairs.
Mrs. Hancock was still there!
I suddenly felt the opposite of the man who taken her in such commanding fashion only moments before. It was a very awkward moment.
"Ryan, Mrs. Hancock found The Room very intriguing, didn't you Glenda?"
Mrs. Hancock didn't look at me, or Mom, for that matter. She gazed in Mom's direction and agreed that she had found the room to be…helpful. She moved to the front door.
"But I really must get home, Mary."
"Well, thanks so much for dropping by."
"Not at all."
"You will come back soon?"
"Of course. Thank you."
Mrs. Hancock didn't sound convinced. Although I hadn't wanted to go downstairs at first, I now found her lack of enthusiasm disappointing.
"You can use The Room to meditate anytime you want."
"Perhaps."
Mom ignored the doubt in Mrs. Hancock's voice as she hurried down the walk toward her car.
"Why don't you wear those black stretchy pants with the cute little top next time," Mom called.
Mrs. Hancock stopped and turned half around.
"The light blue one?" she asked, completing the spin.
"Yes, it goes so nicely with your eyes."
"I guess I could."
She sounded more relaxed, as if being outside even a short distance made her feel safe.
"So, next Tuesday then? Norm is bowling that night." Mom's question sounded more like a confirmation.
"Tuesday? Okay."
Mrs. Hancock left and Mom shut the door, turned, and leaned back against it.
"So, you look pretty worn out. Why don't you go up and get a shower and then tell me all about it?"
I did as Mom asked but was unable to fill her in because Dad came home early. Late that night, she snuck into my room and woke me up.
"So what happened?"
Part way through my revelations, Mom slipped under the covers and fondled my cock as I described the juicy parts. I didn't think my cock could be revived but as soon as Mom touched it I was raring to go. However, she insisted on hearing everything in detail before she would let me inside her. That didn't stop her from stroking my cock and tickling my balls so I was in a frantic state when the story had finally been told to her satisfaction. I rolled on top of her and she pulled me inside. I moaned loudly as her slick, velvet sheath sucked me in deep.
"Shhhh," she whispered. "I forgot to close the door."
I looked over my shoulder and confirmed that the door was open about a foot. I didn't know if hers had been left open too but there was no way I was sliding out of her to close a fucking door. I tried to contain the expression of my joy and that only heightened the excitement of our coupling. Throughout, Mom demanded that I recite details of Mrs. Hancock's reactions—what she did and the sounds she made—and asked if I had done certain things, all lewd. Regardless of how much I explained, or confirmed, she wanted more.
"Like this?" she would ask. Or, "this way?"
I don't know if Mom was trying to work me up or if she was truly interested in how another woman fucked. I found it annoying at first but then it grew on me and I found myself prompting her with descriptions of things I hadn't actually done. Mom then got me to do them, and asked if that was how Mrs. Hancock reacted. She even mimicked the sound effects I described. It was weird and, strangely, very exciting.
*****
I was wasted the next day, and the one after that. Mom and I didn't have sex until the third day after Mrs. Hancock's visit. She was true to her word and thereafter let me have sex with her in the living room, kitchen and upstairs in both her bedroom and mine, and the bathroom. It was as if the primal urges emanating from The Room had spread throughout the house. Once, we even did it in the car after pulling in to the garage and started before the door was fully closed.
We still engaged in the longer, more intimate love-making but Mom didn't seem to have a preference for it. It was as if she was no longer self-conscious about letting her wilder side come out and she confessed to me, while we lay stroking each other after a particularly long session, that I was the first man she had ever been with she could just be herself. That made me feel pretty damn special!
Mrs. Hancock didn't come back the following Tuesday or the one after that. In fact, it was a full five weeks before she showed up at our door again. She was wearing the blue top and the black stretchy pants. I hadn't realized how nice her ass was. Smaller breasts, nice ass, is a common combination I later came to observe.
We sat in the living room for a long time but every time Mom tried to get Mrs. Hancock up to go downstairs, she balked and we kept talking and drinking tea. Eventually, we switched to drinks but after her fourth glass of Bailey's she was still too nervous to go down to The Room. That's when Mom's comforting turned into strokes that carried a different message. I got into the act too and it became obvious that we were seducing Mrs. Hancock as she sat on the couch.
Mrs. Hancock was endearingly shy and embarrassed, protesting meekly but never actually stopping us from stroking her face, arms and legs, and eventually her breasts. She closed her eyes and let us both fondle her breasts and probably never knew that it was Mom's hand that first slipped between her legs to massage her pussy through the black stretchy pants. I unbuttoned the blue top and freed her breasts and applied the first kisses, then sucked her nipple into my mouth while Mom reached in to pull my cock out of my shorts. She jacked me off while she leisurely kissed Mrs. Hancock and when I took her place, she pulled the black stretchy pants down to her knees and off.
Mom kissed Mrs. Hancock again and pulled her over as she laid back on the couch. Eyes still closed, Mrs. Hancock willingly followed and Mom's skirt was soon pulled up and her panties shoved down. I yanked Mrs. Hancock's panties down to her knees and pushed my cock into her cunt from behind. I rode her like that, mashing her pussy onto Mom's, sometimes gently and others not. I grabbed her hair from force of habit but Mom pulled her head back down to keep her lips on hers so I only held it loosely after that, for effect.
That was the last time that Mrs. Hancock was shy at our house. At visited at least once every two weeks and sometimes more often. We always had sex several times whether at night or in the afternoon. Sometimes, Mrs. Hancock and I would start while Mom made us lunch or I would make some soup and sandwiches or something else within my limited skill set while the two of them had a female-only round of play.
Of course, Mrs. Hancock became pregnant. The surprising thing was that Mom was thrilled whereas Mrs. Hancock was only happy. Mom's over-the-top joy reminded me of her stopping my use of a condom that first time with Mrs. Hancock. It was a casual comment she made after Tonya was born, however, that confirmed my suspicion that Mom had planned the pregnancy all along.
"She's like a grandaughter," Mom confessed after Mrs. Hancock and her baby had been over for a visit. "In a way, she is, since she's so obviously yours."
There was no doubt about that. Tonya looked a lot like me and very little like her father, or rather, Mrs. Hancock's husband. As she grew older, I was worried that would become more apparent and said so but Mom was blinded by the need to have little Tonya around as much as possible. In fact, she seldom took part in threesomes anymore, preferring to look after Tonya while Mrs. Hancock and I fucked our brains out upstairs.
I didn't mind so much, especially for the first eight months or so while Glenda was breast feeding. I liked handling her larger breasts and sampling her milk. She was at first reluctant, thinking I was robbing the baby, but it seemed slaking my thirst only made her produce more. Her breasts became very sensitive and my prolonged attention made her very horny, and that led shy Mrs. Hancock into even wilder sex.
Tonya was a toddler when the rumors started. Mom found out about it and quickly unearthed the source. It was Mrs. Adams. We talked about what to do but didn't have any ideas on how to keep Mrs. Adams quiet. Then Mom came up with an idea.
"Sandra," she announced.
"Of course," Glenda exclaimed, reaching out to rest her hand on Mom's arm.
"Sandra? Who's Sandra?," I asked.
"Mrs. Carter," they both answered, as if repeating the name confirmed that the problem was solved.
"Mrs. Carter? Why Mrs. Carter?" I asked.
"Because her husband is the manager of the mill and Harriet's husband works there. He'd having trouble finding another job," Glenda explained, as if it was all so obvious.
"Okay, I'll bite. Mrs. Adams is spreading rumors and her husband's boss is Mrs. Carter's husband. So why should Mrs. Carter help us?" I spread both arms with up-turned hands.
"Because, silly," Glenda said, smiling sagely and putting her other hand over mine on the kitchen table, "Sandra Carter was our yoga instructor."
Mom nodded, matching Glenda's wise countenance.
"Uh huh. So you took a class together and now you belong to the same bridge club," I said, still skeptical and looking for a better explanation from Mom but she avoided my eyes.
Glenda interjected, "Sandra likes Mary. She always has. So much so that we suspected she has…well, a certain tendency."
"Not that there's anything wrong with that," Mom said. Glenda giggled.
"Oh, I see." Both women nodded, in part acknowledging their patience in allowing me to catch up. "She's a dyke."
"Ryan!" they both yelled.
"I mean, she likes women," I corrected.
"She's bi, anyway," Glenda acknowledged.
"I'll second that," Mom said. "She was quite taken by your ridiculous sock bit."
Glenda laughed uproariously. "Wasn't that a hoot? And thank God he did or we wouldn't be here today."
"Or in this mess," Mom added.
"Yes," I agreed.
"But you're right, Mary. Sandra really gave Ryan the once over. She was staring at his crotch. I know, because I caught myself doing the same thing and looked around to see if I'd been caught and was quite shocked to see the way she was looking at Ryan's…cock."
Glenda tittered again and reached down to pat my member affectionately.
"Sooo," Mom said, "we have some compelling bait to lure Sandra into our circle. We just have to set the trap."
"Mom," I protested. "She must be sixty years old."
"She just turned fifty," Mom corrected me, sounding a bit miffed by my horror at her age. "And she has an awesome body for a woman her age. She's been doing yoga all her life."
I remembered Mrs. Carter and couldn't dispute the fact that she had a nice figure, but under the clothes, wouldn't she be all wrinkly and stuff? My face must have worn my thoughts.
"She can probably bend herself into all sorts of weird positions," Glenda observed with a devious expression.
She had hit me right in my weak spot. Glenda could be submissive and acrobatic in the sack but even she stuggled to get into and maintain the positions I liked to fuck her in. I pictured Mrs. Carter's tanned, wiry body rolled up almost into a ball, toes curled onto the floor beside her auburn hair with her ass pointing upward, waiting for me to squat thrust my cock into her cunt.
"Should we give it a try?" Mom asked, picking the right moment for a vote.
Glenda looked at me and before I could nod, said, "All for one, and one for all."
Laughter enveloped the table.
*****
So it came to pass that Mom and Glenda had Mrs. Carter over for an afternoon tea to discuss starting up a class for the new hot yoga fashion that had been sweeping across the country. There weren't any classes available in town and would she teach one?
I had answered the door, according to plan, but had left soon after to go on a run. Meanwhile, Mom and Glenda had spicy tea with Mrs. Carter, tea that was spiced up with a strong liqueur, just enough to take the edge off and make her more amenable to a mellow conversation. They were deep into it when I came back from my run, tanned and sweating with my muscle shirt plastered to my chest and white shorts, making them look more like skin than clothes. Snacks and cups were spread across the coffee table and a bottle of liqueur openly displayed that hadn't been there when I left. It was two thirds gone. I sat down on the lazy boy chair in the corner.
The women were in a good mood and the fashion show featuring male models that was on the TV was all but ignored except, that is, by Mrs. Carter who glanced at it now and then. It was flattering that she glanced at me more than the TV.
Mom and Glenda sat very close to Mrs. Carter, each having about a foot between them and the arms of the couch. Mrs. Carter seemed a little uncomfortable at their proximity when I first came in which I think was acknowlegement on her part that it was inappropriate and not that she didn't like it. When everyone, including me, ignored it, she became more comfortable with the situation which I'm sure she had been before I came in.
Mom and Glenda started paying more attention to the TV, making frank comment about the models. At first, I thought it was a strange thing to have on but then realized it was a good way for three women to laugh it up and get cosy.
Mom looked at me and said, "Ryan, take that shirt off and throw it in the laundry. It stinks!"
I rolled my eyes and got up, leisurely strolled across the living room in front of them, stopped near the kitchen door to peel the t-shirt over my head, and threw it up the stairs. It landed half way up and I sauntered into the kitchen, got a water bottle and filled it up with cold water, then doused my head and splashed a little over the front and back of my shorts. Hair dripping, I casually wandered back into the living room but stopped in front of the TV to take a long swig from the water bottle.
Mom complained, "Get out of the way, you big oaf."
Glenda also urged me to get clear of the TV but Mrs. Carter was silent and I could see from the corner of my eye that she was eyeing up my physique. I remembered the the scenario Glenda had drawn for me the week before of Mrs. Carter sustaining contorted positions and felt my cock swell and press against the front of my shorts. I tensed my leg muscles and tightened my butt, then turned and looked directly at Mrs. Carter, trying to affect a heated look in my eyes.
She was caught but, like a deer in headlight, couldn't look away.
"Get out of the way," Glenda cried.
Mom waved me aside and I moved, slowly, keeping my eyes on Mrs. Carter. She didn't turn her head but her eyes followed me all the way to the chair where I was slow to twist around to sit down. When I did, I kept my knees wide apart to let the damp material of my shorts stretch tighly over my bulge which had become more defined when I had wet the front.
Mom and Glenda put an arm around Mrs. Carter at the same time and leaned forward to look at the TV, pulling her with them. Mrs. Carter looked too but glanced my way twice before they pulled back to lean against the couch. Their hands dangled over the shoulders of the more petite Mrs. Carter, fingertips coming perilously close to brushing the nipples I could see faintly poking through her tank top. Their apparent hardness confirmed the constrained excitement evident in her eyes.
I kept silent in the background as the women continued to comment about the models. The lack of commercial breaks suggested the program was recorded. Mrs. Carter occasionally glanced my way and no longer seemed embarassed when I looked back. Some time went by before I noticed Mom's fingertips grazing the upper part of Mrs. Carter's right breast and Glenda's doing the same with the left. They leaned forward as a threesome for a closer look at a model and when they settled back on the couch Mom's hand was on Mrs. Carter's thigh. Glenda's landed on the other soon after.
It was strange. I thought Mrs. Carter would have avoided looking my way, perhaps in shame, but she now regarded me steadily, ignoring the TV. Mom and Glenda openly stroked her upper legs and their fingers pressed on the upper swells of her breasts, not quite reaching far enough to brush the nipples. I imagined that they were and pictured the little buds flicking back and forth, bending and then snapping back into place, as the fingers passed by on their innocent journey, devoid of any excuse for such an intimate touch.
It was a surreal scene. Mrs. Carter sitting on the couch, flanked by my brunette mother on one side and the blonde Mrs. Hancock on the other, both caressing her thighs and dangling their hands on the upper part of her breasts.
Mom and Glenda had stopped watching the TV and were now talking to one another in excited, hushed tones across Mrs. Carter. They were still talking about the attibutes of the models but weren't involving Mrs. Carter in the conversation. Mom withdrew her arm from around Mrs. Carter's neck and started stroking her hair. Glenda did the same and both started stroking the sides of her face. Mrs. Carter leaned her head back against the couch and closed her eyes. Within two minutes of doing that, the other woman moved the hands that had been stroking her legs up over her stomach and cupped her breasts.
They didn't move for a minute or so but then began to gently knead and rub Mrs. Carter's small breasts with the palms of their hands. Taking the lead, as usual, Mom kissed Mrs. Carter lightly on the cheek. When Glenda did the same, Mrs. Carter placed a hand on the other women's legs and they responded by turning slightly toward her. Mom kissed her on the lips then drew back to let Glenda have a turn. Soon, they were swapping with Mrs. Carter turning her head from one to the other but never opening her eyes. I wondered if she thought it would end if she did.
Mom jerked her head at me while Glenda was busy with Mrs. Carter. When I got up she jerked her head again, indicating that I should pull the coffee table out of the way, which I did. By the time that was done, Mom was busy with Mrs. Carter. Glenda smiled at me. She was very excited.
When it was Glenda's turn, Mom indicated that I should approach Mrs. Carter so I did, standing in front of her and pushing my pelvis forward to emphasize the bulge in my shorts in case she opened her eyes. Mom shook her head to indicate that I should kneel down in front of her. Once on the floor, Mom nodded at Mrs. Carter's legs and then turned to take Glenda's place. I didn't know what to do and Glenda was no help, smiling at me and awaiting her turn as she fondled Mrs. Carter's left breast.
