Incest/Taboo It Started in an Elevator

"That's better," she cooed, dropping her hands around my shaft and curling her fingers around it.

Ahhhh, heaven. She stroked it, the soft skin of her slick hands sliding easily up and down my shaft. In spite of my anger, I closed my eyes and arched my back, pushing my hardening cock up through her tanalizing fingers.

"Much better," she cooed, stroking more firmly.

Mrs. Carter applied long, hard squeezing strokes with one hand while the other slipped down to massage my balls.

"Sandra?" Mr. Carter shouted. "We're ready to play."

"Start without me," she yelled back.

Her mouth dropped down to hover over the tip of my cock, then teasingly huffed hot breath over it. I groaned. She licked. I moaned, and she sucked. She didn't drop her mouth but teased the head instead with her swirling, licking tongue.

"Sandra!"

My eyes opened and her head popped off.

"Just a minute!"

She looked at me and smiled.

"I have to go. Sorry, sweetie but they want to play Bridge. Oh, don't be sad. Let me leave you something to tide you over until I get back."

She leaned down to take my cock into her mouth again but instead poked her finger into my ass.

"Oh my God!"

"Shhhhh, baby. You don't want my husband to hear, do you?"

I shook my head and gritted my teeth.

"Feels good doesn't it?"

I nodded. Surprisingly, it did.

"Just for a minute," she whispered.

"Sandra!"

Mrs. Carter ignored the call and dropped her mouth over the head of my cock instead of answering. Her finger slid in and out of my ass as she sucked and the other hand stroked my shaft. Fucking awesome! She pulled her mouth off and her finger slipped out me. She wiggled my cock and then tossed it to the side.

"Later," she whispered.

"Don't go," I pleaded.

"Later."

"Sandra!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming."

She disappeared through the door. It was several minutes before I realized that she had left me tied on the bed. How the hell was I going to get out of here before her husband came upstairs?

I woke with a start. It was dim in the room. Night had fallen, robbing the bedroom of light except for the small lamp on the dresser and the light from the hallway. They were saying goodbye, that's what must have woken me up. What time was it? I couldn't see my watch. Craning my neck, I just managed to see the big red number on the clock radio. Eleven twenty. Are you kidding? Soft voices and dishes clattering in the distance indicated that Mr. and Mrs. Carter were cleaning up. They would be coming upstairs soon. Finally, she would let me go, getting here before her husband did. Boy, I really owed her a licking, and not the soft, velvety kind.

"You go ahead, dear. I'll clean this up."

Was she kidding? She was sending him up first?

I struggled frantically with the ropes but had no more success than the dozen times I had already tried. Footsteps on the stairs. Heavy, male footsteps. She was insane! How did she think she could get away with having me tied up on her bed? Nuts, just plain wacko!

Footsteps coming closer, almost here. A door closing again, footsteps muffled. Whew! He must have gone into the bathroom. I almost called out.

Come on Mrs. Carter. Enough is enough. Get up here and let me go!

Footsteps, lighter ones, coming up the stairs.

About time!

She entered the room, pushed the door most of the way closed, but not all the way. She walked to the dresser and removed her earrings, then a necklace. I wiggled frantically on the bed but she ignored me. Kicking her shoes off, she turned her head toward me.

"Did you fall asleep?"

"Yes, now let me go before we really get in trouble."

"I'm glad to see he didn't go to sleep," she said, ignoring my warning.

I looked down. My cock was still hard.

"Mrs. Carter, Sandra, this had gone far enough."

"You're wrong. We're just getting started."

She unzipped the back of her dress, pushed it off her shoulders, and stepped out of it. She draped it neatly over the dresser's bench seat, then reached behind herself to unsnap her bra. After removing it, she tossed it toward a basket in the corner, causing her breasts to swing away from her chest. Her nipples were long and hard. Was she as excited as I was? Had she been thinking about me lying here with my cock stabbing toward the ceiling, waiting for her to fuck herself with it?

Mrs. Carter approached the bed, peeling her panties off as she walked.

"Mrs. Carter, this is crazy. Your husband…"

"Don't worry about him," she replied. "Think about where you're going to put that nice, lovely cock instead."

The panties were pushed off her feet and she knelt on the bed, exposing a neatly trimmed bush perfectly situated between her lean, well-muscled thighs.

"Mrs. Carter, we really…"

"Shhhhh. Don't you want me to suck it some more? I won't stop this time, I promise."

She crawled forward on her knees and grasped my cock before I could answer. The words stuck in my throat but I managed to cough them up again, only to choke on them when she used her pussy to flatten my cock against my belly. She rubbed her slick slit over the underside of my shaft and whispered.

"Did you think about doing dirty things to me, you filthy boy? Did you think about fucking me while my husband and I were downstairs with our friends? Did you make me use my mouth? Did you think about my cunt?"

She guided my cock into her pussy and squeezed all the way down my shaft.

"Oh God, I've been thinking about this all night."

Mrs. Carter started fucking, gripping my shoulders for extra leverage while her thighs clutched my sides to help squeeze my cock harder, but as soon as she attained a rhythm she threw herself upright and churned her pelvis chaotically.

"Oh yeah, been thinking about this," she repeated. "Beats listening to those boring old assholes."

I tried to stay with her, having resigned myself to getting caught. Mr. Carter had to come in and catch us any moment now. It was inevitable. I only hoped I could come before he chased me off, or even killed me. My cock had been aching all night and it needed to unload which it should do any second now.

But it didn't. I was amazed that I didn't come immediately, especially when Mrs. Carter's cunt was just as active as her mouth. It actively massaged my cock as her sheath slithered up and down my shaft and there was an extra tight pulpy squeeze on the tip every time she slammed herself down. Fuck, this old girl had an award-winning cunt!

Come in and kill us, Mr. Carter. I don't care anymore.

But he didn't come, and he didn't kill us. He had to be taking the world's longest dump. Mrs. Carter fucked me forever, punishing my body with hers, twisting so violently I thought she would tear my cock right off. Her mouth found mine and I was again amazed by her sensuous kissing. A guy could come on those alone. Then I was coming, spurting a treasure trove of gunk inside her, hearing it squish as the overflow squeezed out of her pussy. She fell over my chest and hugged me tight, clinging to my body as she wrung every last ounce of spunk from my cock.

Then I remembered Mr. Carter.

"Your husband," I whispered.

Her head nodded against mine.

"Don't worry," she said. "He drops off right away and sleeps like a rock."

"Sleeping? In the bathroom?"

"Bathroom? Oh my," she laughed. "No wonder you were in such a panic. He has his own room."

Mrs. Carter covered her mouth and laughed hard. When she was able to control herself, with some obvious difficulty, she said, "I thought you were just putting on an act but you really were scared, weren't you?"

I nodded. "Yeah, and it's not funny."

"Depends on your point of view," she said, having to cover her mouth again.

"Let me go now," I said, not in the least bit amused.

"Don't be mad, munchkins."

Munchkins?

"Untie me," I demanded more forcefully.

"Alright, don't have a cow about it."

Mrs. Carter loosed the ropes and laid on her back while I freed myself. As soon as I was done, I leapt to my feet and ran to the door, closing it firmly. Feeling more secure, I returned to get my clothes. Mrs. Carter watched me, a big smile on her face.

"You not leaving?"

With that, she spun around and sat on the bed with her back to me, then tumbled forward in a half somersault until her back pressed against the headboard but her her feet remained on the bed behind her. She grasped her ankles to keep her legs down and apart. Her shoulders, resting on a pillow, allowed her head to arch back enough to make eye contact when she spoke.

"You should never leave before dessert," she laughed.

I stared, awestruck, holding my shorts which I had just picked up from the floor. This was one of the contortionist positions I had imagined when Mom and Mrs. Hancock tried to enlist my help in seducing Mrs. Carter to handle the Mrs. Adams problem.

I stared at the back of the thighs framing her swollen, glistening pussy and shook my head as I tried to pull up my shorts. But they dropped to the floor instead and my feet carried me up and onto the bed. I straddled her and was surprised that my cock wasn't dangling over her. It had grown rock hard again and I had to push it down to get it to point at her pussy. I squatted until the tip grazed her slit and then slipped the head inside.

"So you are going to stay," she smugly observed.

"Shut up," I said.

I pushed my cock all the way in, pulled out and shoved back in again, all the way, using my weight to make sure it went as deep as it possibly could.

"Shut the fuck up," I said, though Mrs. Carter hadn't said a word; she had only laughed.

I fixed that, slamming in hard the next time. I leaned forward to grab the headboard and used it to steady myself as I hopped up and down, jamming my cock into her lewdly exposed backside as hard as I could, bouncing Mrs. Carter up and down on the bed. It was fucking awesome. I banged her like that until my cock started spewing again and then I pulled it out and shoved it between her thighs, grasping her knees to hold her legs up, knowing the residue would splash on her stomach and tits and maybe even reach her neck and face. I didn't care. This was payback.

I didn't get off her right away. I was loathe to do so, wanting to retain the sense of power I had experienced sitting astride her. I hadn't meant to but, looking down and remembering what she'd done with her finger before leaving me to play cards with her friends, I pushed a finger into her asshole.

Groan.

Yeah? I poked it in again, pulled it out, gobbed on her butthole, and pushed it in again. It went in easier that time, so I gobbed some more and soon had my finger moving easily in and out of her monkey butt. I wasn't quite sure how to proceed. Sure, I had seen this lots of time on porn flicks but I had never done it myself, hadn't even come close. I tried my thumb and when it worked just as easily, I tried two fingers. She wasn't quite ready for that but didn't ask me to stop.

A little more fingering and maybe a lick or to on her pussy should do it.

I knelt on the bed, my knees straddling her face, and licked her. Oh, she liked that alright. I licked her again, lapping with long tongue strokes and then stabbing it inside, pulling out to flick it across her clit and then returned to licking her whole pussy. When I applied both fingers again, this time using just the tips of my index fingers, she didn't complain. Several times, I gobbed saliva and pussy juice on her bung hole and soon had her moaning and, even better, had both fingers going in and out to the second knuckle.

Her mouth suddenly enveloped my cock. Well, what a welcome shock that was. How she could suck and milk a hard cock in that position was beyond me but Mrs. Carter was an extraordinary woman. Before you could say 'Jiminy Cricket' I was flexing my hips and fucking her mouth. Then I did something I couldn't imagine myself ever doing. I leaned forward and pushed my tongue into Mrs. Carter's asshole.

I wouldn't have thought she could buck her hips in that position but her haunches sprung up from the bed and pasted her cheeks onto mine, not exactly what I had in mind for dancing cheek-to-cheek. I wiggled my face, trying to escape, and that sent Mrs. Carter over the edge. She went wild, moaning and groaning so loud I was sure she would wake up the dead, or at least Mr. Carter, who would rush into the room and shoot me in the back. But I didn't dwell on that. No sir. What popped into my lecherous mind was…She's ready for cock.

I pulled my cock out of Mrs. Carter mouth and was on my feet in an instant, squatting over her rear door and trying to shovel it into her ass. She was a trooper. By her reaction, I was pretty sure she hadn't done this before, her own fingerwork in my butt notwithstanding, at least not with a neophyte like me. Nevertheless, she didn't complain about my fumbling attempts to get my rigid member into her butt.

After an unexpected struggle—the difficulty was surprising given the quarter-sized hole her asshole had become thanks to the double fingerwork. Nevertheless, I was soon sliding my cock—shoving would be a better word—in and out of her asshole. I wasn't sure if I liked her butt better than her cunt; on second thought, I knew I didn't, but it imparted such an overwhelming sense of control that I knew I'd want to have it again.

So I came a third time, a much more muted affair, pulling out and spewing what I had left on Mrs. Carter's ass, watched it fill up and then bubble away as if draining into a clogged sink. After that I got dressed and sneaked down the hallway past Mr. Carter's bedroom while she was still gasping and quivering on her bed. I had to stop to rest myself on the way home. Mrs. Carter had worn us both out.
​

*****​

You could be forgiven for thinking that I would seek to have sex with more of Mom's acquaintances, or just as easily that I might avoid them like the plague. In fact, I was content to have sex with Mom, Mrs. Hancock and Mrs. Carter for several years. They were all the older women I could handle and then only because sex with two of them became less frequent.

Mrs. Hancock was the first to withdraw from extracurricular activities. As Tonya grew older she became increasingly involved in her activities and those of her son. However, she still came around often because she knew Mom was Tonya's real grandmother. That wasn't just kindness; she and Mom had a real connection that lived on long after they stopped being lovers. About twice a year, Mrs. Hancock did need a release and though I often missed the subtle hints, Mom always clued me in. I enjoyed those times but none lived up to Mrs. Hancock's first visit to The Room.

Other than that, Mrs. Hancock and I did not have sex but there wasn't a strong emotional connection between us anyway. We liked each other, but it wasn't love. I liked playing with Tonya and looked after him lots of times so she and Mom could go shopping or out to lunch together. The only woman in my life that I truly loved was Mom, except for one other. As with Mrs. Hancock, sex became less frequent and more tender. It wasn't dull but it was more like making love, no matter how intense it became.

With both Mom and Mrs. Hancock, the knowledge of who we were with suppressed our wildest inclinations. Glenda could partly shed that once or twice a year. In fact, I don't think she could help herself, but Mom was a different story. I think the first year or so was a phase that would have ended within a few months if Mrs. Hancock's sadness hadn't become apparent at the same time and meshed with Mom's sudden urge for a grandchild. What a solution she concocted!

And then there was Mrs. Carter. Her seduction would never have happened if it wasn't for Mrs. Adam's loose tongue but who could foresee the voracious sexual appetite buried within such a proper container? According to her, it was something that blossomed, or rather exploded, after that first seduction in our living room. She also claimed it was the first time she had been with a woman, although she had always experienced yearnings. Mrs. Carter's sexual appetite didn't wane over the years. She was irrepressible. I had sex with her more often than anyone else, even my wife.

Wife, you say? Yes, I'm married.

It turns out that I actually loved Elaine, a fact I slowly came to realize after the frustration of being limited to vanilla sex was removed. The more tender sex that Mom and I eventually settled upon taught me how to be a better lover and more considerate companion for my girlfriend.

Elaine and I eventually married. The week before the wedding was the last time that Mom and I had sex. She was waiting for me the day after my stag in The Room. Dad had been sent off on a long series of errands and I awoke amid a sprinkle of red rose petals on my pillow and an old brown dress draped across the foot of my bed. I went directly downstairs, knowing what I was getting into, but not realizing it would be the last time.

There was, however, no way to stave off Mrs. Carter. I struggled with my conscience but must confess I didn't try too hard. I rationalized my sins by claiming that, just like a woman, a man also needs an unconstrained release every now and then. It's something that can actually be good for a marriage.

It's harder to acknowledge that what's good for the gander is also good for the goose. I'm just lucky that, with Mom's guidance, Elaine found what she was looking for in The Room. We never discussed The Room let alone admitted we knew who was in there with us. It was just better that way.

Oh, and I told a little white lie. Three months after Elaine starting visiting The Room, Mom became a return visitor.​