Incest/Taboo Mom and I Watch a Family-and Bond

I was in the parking lot behind the office, unhooking the trailer, when my phone went off. I tapped the Bluetooth earpiece. "Harris Trucking, how may I help you?"

"My driver just walked out on me, and I have to get this truck back to my studio."

I hadn't heard from my mother in over two months. She's a sculptor, and a successful one, whose creations adorn the public squares of over ten cities and twelve entertainment venues. She lives in seclusion two states away, in the northern plains, to inspire her art. Proud and self-reliant, she never calls asking for help. Never say never, I suppose, but I knew right away she was in a tight corner.

"What do you need me to do, Mom?"

There was a pause in the connection. "' Mother,' not 'Mom,' remember? I need you to drive this truck back to the studio. It's been loaded by the team, and it's in a fenced lot, but I have no driver, and I'm not taking a chance on a new one. When can you be here?"

I shook my head. That was my mother. She sort of raised my twin sister and me alone; she never shared the identity of my father. To put it diplomatically, she would never be featured as a character in a Hallmark movie. A driven artist on her way up in an impossible industry, she'd never been warm and loving. That's not to say she'd been cruel. There'd been love there; it had just been very reserved.

"Text me a pin."

I didn't bother trying to reason with her because I already knew how it would end. She was Marcy McBride, renowned sculptor; she was also my mother. I couldn't tell you which of those two details made her feel more entitled to my unquestioning acquiescence, but it was surely both, and she surely did.

My phone pinged with her text on her location. I checked my maps. Wow, not a drivable distance.

"Okay, I'll book a flight and text you my arrival time."

My wife, Barb, laughed and said, "Of course you can go; nobody says no to Marcy McBride."

She was standing in our large bathroom, naked, just out of the shower. She's petite, with long, red hair and brown, nearly black eyes. Her breasts, though not large, are perfectly shaped, and her nipples, right then, were long and hard. She caught me looking.

"You may be away a few days. When's your flight?"

"Not till four."

Barb pressed her body against mine. "Take a shower; I'll get the room ready."

I washed in record time, dried off quickly, and stepped into our bedroom. The sun poured through the large windows, bathing the room in midday light. Barb was on the bed, on her back, naked, with her perfect round ass up on two pillows and a towel under her. She was sliding a large dildo in and out of her trimmed pussy. When you marry a redhead, pussy shaving is forbidden.

The video of our last get-together with Jack and Alyssa played on the sixty-inch flat screen. My penis, already half-hard from thinking about fucking my wife, sprang up as I watched Barb masturbate on our bed, and, on the screen, I watched myself fucking Alyssa while Barb lay under us, licking Alyssa's pussy and my cock while Jack fucked her. Barb nudged me with her foot as she tossed the dildo on the floor. "Let's go, Bob."

I crawled up between her legs and filled my nose with her lusty scent. "I love you so fucking much, Barb."

She held my head in her hands. "I know, baby, but show me. Eat me; fuck me."

I pushed my tongue deep inside Barb's vagina. Her fingers clenched my scalp. Barb isn't vocal -- more visceral. She growled and yelped when I sucked on her extended clit. The video of the four of us ran in the background. Just hearing it allowed me to visualize the action.

Barb exhaled deeply as she climaxed in my mouth. She lifted my head. "Fuck me, baby. I need you in me."

I moved up and over her. Barb pointed to the TV. "Oh, this is where Jack fucked me in the ass." Her eyes came back to me as I pushed my cock into her wetness. "Oh, fucking yes. So good."

I had to make a flight, so I couldn't enjoy marathon sex with my wife. Barb slipped her hand between us and rubbed her clit. "Go for it. I'll meet you there."

Barb and I are gym enthusiasts, and she has mastered control of her Kegels, a skill she called upon to help me get off quickly. It worked. In five minutes, I felt the tide of my climax cresting, and with a satisfied grunt, I orgasmed as Barb shook under me, her finger and my cock bringing her climax.

I leaned back and gazed at my wife. She lay watching me watch her. Her vagina was still open, a trail of our mixed love running out and down to the towel under her. She ran her finger up through her lips and then to her mouth, sucking it loudly. My penis twitched.

She pointed at my cock. "You've always had a quick reload."

I looked down. "Yeah, I guess I'm just lucky."

"Not as lucky as I am. Go wash before I put that in my mouth; you need to get to the airport."

Barb glanced at the TV where the four of us were in our huge shower. "Now that's the way to bathe."

The Uber dropped me off at the open gate of a large truck storage yard in Sioux City, Iowa. Mom was standing in front of an eighteen-foot yellow box truck, arms crossed, looking at her watch. She was in her usual outfit: worn-out baggy Carhartt pants and an oversized, tired, chambray shirt, topped off with a faded Caterpillar baseball cap -- a gift from me. I picked up my small duffle and walked over.

"Was the plane delayed?" she asked.

I replied as I walked around the truck. "Mother, I know you refuse to fly, and your impatience always thinks it goes faster than it does. It was not."

"Can we get going?"

I unlatched the doors to the cargo box. "I also know your show schedule, Mother; I looked it up. You do not have a show for another three months. I've been driving and owning trucks since I was eighteen. I always check the load."

"I've been watching this truck for a day. I'm exhausted and want to return to my studio."

I closed, latched, and locked the cargo box. Mom stood at the back corner of the truck. It was July in Iowa, and Mom's shirt was dark in the areas where her perspiration had soaked through. Her rich chestnut hair, which fell halfway down her back, had acquired a streak of grey. I thought it looked good, but kept it to myself. I walked past her and opened the cab.

"Let's go. It'll take about nine hours to get you back to Montana. We'll go as far as we can tonight and finish up tomorrow -- unless you want me to pull out my transmogrifier and get us there now, but you know what that does to our continuum."

Mom climbed into the other side. "Funny, son. I always wonder at your sense of humor."

I started the truck, and cool air filled the cab. The reason my mother 'wondered' was because she had no sense of humor herself, and had not known my father long enough to know if he did. At least, that had always been my impression, since she'd never shared that information with me.

It shouldn't come as a surprise when I say that my mother and I do not call and regale each other with the events of our lives. In theory, being stuck in a rental truck on the interstate was an opportunity to catch up. It was not. As I left the yard, my mother balled up a towel, leaned her head against the door, and fell asleep.

As I drove, I'd glance at her. Memories of my childhood came back to me. My sister and I were raised as part of our Uncle Charley and Aunt Sara's family. Parenting was not on my mother's list of life skills. We spent the weekends with Mom; she was more like that crazy Aunt than our mother, and we were okay with that.

Her life had revolved around her work, and still did. She'd never made mention of, nor had I ever seen any evidence of, any men or women sharing her space -- not that I'd ever cared with whom she might share a romantic relationship. I don't think she was celibate, just discreet.

Around four o'clock, near Kimball, South Dakota, the engine started losing power. I tried to nurse it to an exit, but it sputtered and died.

"Well, fuck," my mother said.

I looked at her. "Wow."

My mother glowered at me. "Just because I don't employ the coarse language you prefer does not mean I don't know the words. For this situation, there is simply no substitute. What is your plan?"

"My plan? You rented this truck and dragooned me into driving. I'm just the help." I got out and opened the hood.

"Do you know what's wrong?" she asked.

"Hell, no. You need a fucking degree to fix these things. I opened the hood as a universal sign of distress."

My mother was going through her phone. "Why else would somebody stop?"

"Well, mother, in my experience, it's usually because somebody has to pee."

Mom looked up. "On the side of an interstate highway?

I shrugged. "See it all the time. Are you calling the rental company?"

"How crude," she mumbled. "Yes, I'm calling them now."

As my mother was engaged in a heated conversation with the rental truck people — liberally salted with words she 'never' used, but with which she was apparently fluent — a white Cadillac Escalade pulled off the highway in front of the truck.

The doors opened, and four people got out. The driver was a man around forty, tanned, about six feet tall, and in excellent shape; his front-seat passenger was a woman about his age, tall and lean, with an above-average set of tits, and long, sun-bleached blonde hair. The back seat yielded a boy and a girl, somewhere in their late teens or early twenties, carbon copies of their parents. They all wore faded jeans, T-shirts, cowboy hats, and sunglasses.

I walked to them and extended my hand. "Thanks for stopping. I'm Bob."

"No problem, we do this all the time." The man took my hand; well, 'enveloped' would be a better word. "I'm Hank Conners. This is my wife, Melody, Hank Junior, and Anna. We have a little place up the road. Getting stuck out here can be dangerous. Um, your wife having a problem with the rental company?"

My mother had been young when I'd been born. "She's my mother, Marcy, and based on her language, I assume so."

Hank laughed and said, "Uh, referring to the rental truck guy as 'the soulless spawn of Satan's rectum' may not get you the help you need."

I sighed. "I agree, but you would have to know my mother."

My mother ended her call and, noticing our guests, walked over. "Hello, I'm Marcy, and this is my son, Bob. Thank you for stopping," She paused and looked at me. "The rental company will only get us a new truck."

Hank's brow furrowed. "That's what you need, right?"

My mother sighed. I knew the sign. She was not interested in explaining. I jumped in. "My mother is a sculptor, and the truck has her work in it. Experts loaded it."

Hank nodded. "Oh, I get it. May I call the rental folks?"

Mom shrugged and showed Hank her phone. "I have nothing to lose. Thank you."

Two hours later, we were in the lush leather seats of the Escalade, following our rental truck, which was being towed into Kimball City, South Dakota. Hank was my new best friend. He had negotiated with the rental company to have the truck repaired without having to unload it.

An hour later, things went from better to worse. The engine needed parts that were not available anywhere near the middle of nowhere we were currently in.

"Stay with us," Melody said.

My mother shook her head. "No. You have been amazing, and we have taken up enough of your time."

Hank Jr. spoke up. "You gotta stay with us. Nobody will speak to us if we let you stay in that ratbag motel. Out here on the prairie, we take care of each other. It's expected."

My mother and I shared a look. I shrugged, and she did, too. She looked at Melody. "Well, if you have room, that would be nice."

We left town. Hank drove at eighty miles per hour past an endless field of something green. He waved his arm. "This is our farm."

We kept driving; I saw no break in the field. "Did we miss the driveway?" I asked.

Anna snorted, and Hank Jr. jabbed her in the ribs as he replied, "No, our place is after the farm."

It was another two minutes until, off to our left, I saw a wide entrance. Hank turned in, taking the right when the driveway -- as wide as a two-lane highway -- forked. "The farm is ten thousand acres," he explained. "Been in the family for over a hundred years. We have a guy who manages it. We run a small horse-breeding ranch. We're here."

I smiled at Hank's description: "a little place down the road." The house was huge— two stories, white, wings, dormers, front porch, landscaped. My mother's polite "if you have room" comment amused me. Behind the house, I saw a large stable and the usual white board-fenced corral with two horses standing in it.

A half hour later, Melody was pouring lemonade on their enclosed porch. Mom and I were set up in the guest wing overlooking the large swimming pool. Melody apologized that there was only one double bed, as the mate to it had broken the previous week. I pondered the circumstances that would cause a bed to break and chastised myself for thinking that way.

Dinner consisted of fried chicken, a salad, and plenty of family joking. We were not allowed to help with the cleanup. Hank and Melody gave us a tour of the ranch, and my mother talked about her work, brushing off or ignoring all questions of a more personal nature.

Between the Conners stopping to help us, all the work getting the truck into the garage, dinner, and the tour, it was past ten. Mom and I thanked the Conners again and went to our suite.

My mother closed the door. "If you don't mind, I'll shower first." She looked at the bed. "This will be interesting."

"We'll be fine. I'll take the left side. It's only for one, maybe two nights."

My mother went to her bag, pulled out a kit and some clothes, and walked to the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

That innocuous act ended the normal part of our trip -- and our relationship.

Mom came back out wearing a long T-shirt. I'd never seen her at bedtime without some kind of robe. She's not skinny, but trim, I guess? I'd only seen her in baggy clothing; I had no idea she had a figure, and a nice one at that. Her breasts weren't big, so they didn't need a bra, and her nipples, stiff from the shower, made two points in the shirt.

Mom quickly braided her hair as I got out my shorts, a tee shirt, and my kit. She stood in front of a full-length mirror. I slowed my actions to watch. Something about watching the act intrigued me; Barb keeps her shorter, so I'd never had the opportunity at home. Mom, well-practiced in the art, wove two hanks of hair behind her back, the single band of gray highlighting one of them. She reached the bottom and held the braid as she bent over her bag to retrieve an elastic.

She had nothing on under that T-shirt. The hem moved up and over her curvy ass -- which I'd also never known she had -- and revealed her unshaven pussy. My mother was hot. She stood, and I saw her face in the mirror, looking at me. Feeling the heat of embarrassment on mine, I mumbled, "Excuse me" as I moved behind her and entered the bathroom.

A black lace thong and matching bra hung off a towel rack in the bathroom. I stared. They were the antithesis of my vision of my mother. On the outside, no care for her looks; inside, high-quality panties and bras.

I touched the garments, picturing her wearing just them. I'd never thought about that; it just wasn't her. I wondered what else I didn't know about her.

As I stepped in front of the sink, I saw my mother's cosmetic bag. A medium-sized, pink, suction-cup dildo lay in there, half-hidden by another expensive thong. I touched it; it was still wet from being washed. My mother does have sexual thoughts, and now I had them about her.

I showered with an erection. I didn't masturbate, aware that my mother was in the next room and remembering being teased by her once about taking a "'long shower.'" I turned the water cold at the end to calm my confused dick.

I stepped back into the room. The light was off, but the room glowed with the bluish hue of moonlight. The AC temperature was set a little high, and Mom lay under just the sheet. I got on my side, rolled to my right, facing the wall, and settled on the edge of the mattress.

On the cusp of unconsciousness, I heard splashing outside and felt Mom get up. I slowly rolled to my back and slit an eye.

Mom stood at the window. Somebody was in the pool. As she watched, I saw her right hand move in front of her, and the hem of that T-shirt shifted.

I rustled the sheets. Mom's hand snapped back to her side. Curious, I got up and approached her, standing to her left.

Melody and Hank Jr. were in the pool, bathed in the copious moonlight. I was guessing it was around eleven -- an odd time to be in the pool, naked, with your son sitting on the pool edge while you suck his nice-sized cock. To say I was surprised would be an understatement. Intrigued would be the correct word.

Mom did not acknowledge my presence. I glanced and saw that her nipples were two rigid points in her shirt, and I thought I caught the scent of female excitement. She didn't look away; she didn't voice any disgust or displeasure; she just watched.

In the pool, Melody's skill at fellatio yielded its reward as Hank Jr. pulled his mother's head against his hips and, ass flexing, climaxed into her willing mouth. She released him and pulled her head back. They talked and switched places. Melody, feet flat at the edge of the pool, leaned back on a folded towel and pinched and pulled her nipples as her son pressed his face against her pussy.

My rigid cock made an obscene tent in my loose cotton shorts -- the only clothing I had on. Mom's fingers toyed with the edge of her T-shirt over her pussy, and her nipples looked painfully hard.

The whole situation was nothing short of bizarre. I was standing next to my mother, whom I knew so little about, watching sex- not just sex, but incest- and neither of us was leaving or talking.

Melody had a beautiful set of tits. From the way they moved as her son ate her, they were original equipment. Her pussy was completely natural, just shaved at the edges. She had dark eyebrows, and, true to that trait, her pubic hair was also dark brown. Junior loved it. His hand slipped between his mother's legs and she grabbed his head. I knew what he'd done. He had his mouth on her clit while his finger went in deep and rubbed her G spot. Her hips undulated as she climaxed on her son's face.

My mother whispered, "That's wrong," in a non-committal tone.

"They would disagree," I whispered.

Mom looked over at me, her eyes focusing on my barely covered erection. "As would you, apparently."

I blushed and marveled that I had done so. I guess I had a splinter of shame, though I don't know why.

Melody stood as Hank Jr launched himself out of the pool. They grabbed towels. Assuming the show was over, I returned to my side of the bed. Mom kept her eyes on me and my cloth-covered erection until I got into bed, then went to the bathroom. If she masturbated, I didn't hear it. I was out in seconds.

At five-forty-five, I woke up. Knowing my mother preferred to sleep late, I slipped out of bed and the room.

As with everything in that house, the kitchen was expansive. As I entered, I caught the scent of coffee, saw the machine with mugs clustered next to it, and poured myself a cup. I assumed the machine was on a timer.

I heard motion and looked up as Melody walked in. She wore a long cotton robe and was barefoot. Her nipples made two tempting points in the light fabric, and my mind flashed back to the night before.

"Good morning, Bob," she said as she poured herself a cup of coffee.

"You're an early riser, like me," I replied.

Melody stood and leaned against the counter. "City boy. I'm the last one up. Hank, Deuce, and Anna have been working since five."

"Wow," I replied. "Deuce?"

Melody smiled and cocked an eyebrow. "Hank the second?"

"Ohhhhh."

She sipped her coffee and put the mug down. "It's much easier than saying Hank Junior, and cooler and less demeaning than just 'Junior.'

Melody toyed with the tie on her robe. I tried not to stare as the knot unraveled and the robe opened, revealing her naked body underneath. She gave a slight shrug, and the robe slid off her shoulders and piled at her feet. I'm sure my mouth hung open.

"Better close up?"

I've only been with two women in my life, and they paled in comparison to Melody. She had a long, lean body; tight waist; those perfect breasts with a slight sag; and her pubic area, just shaved at the edges, forming a perfect triangle of curly brown hair. I looked up into her eyes.

"Ahhh, ummmm." Words would not form for me.

"I saw you watching us," she said as her finger traced around her rigid nipple. "Do you and your mother...?"

Melody moved closer, and I caught her scent. It was crisp and clean, with a hint of excitement. I looked her over from head to toe. She wasn't glamorous. She had natural beauty. I shifted in my chair, aware of my erection.

"No, we do not."

Melody cocked an eyebrow. "Interesting."

I watched her hand move and touch my knee. It was the hand of a woman who worked, like my mother's hands: calloused; they were not soft and smooth. She caressed my skin.

"How late does your mother sleep?" Melody asked, her eyes focused on my barely concealed erection.

"I'm married, as are you."

Melody's finger slipped just under the hem of my shorts, paused, and moved back. "Yes, I am, but Hank and I have an arrangement. We have no secrets."

I wanted to fuck that woman. I wanted to lick her, just like her son had. I wanted to cum in her mouth, fuck her tits, and cum on her face. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever met, but.

"My wife and I have an arrangement also, but it does not cover touching you."

Melody took her hand back and smirked. The corner of her mouth turned up. "'Touching.' Interesting. So, watching is permitted, obviously." It was a statement, not a question.

I nodded. "Yes."

Melody pulled out two stools and arranged them next to each other. She sat on one and lay back on the other, her legs wide, displaying her very excited and wet pussy.

"You don't mind if I masturbate, do you?"

"No. Not at all."

Her fingers trailed over her flat abdomen and through her fur, spreading her lips and sliding inside. "Ohhhh, yesss," she moaned.

I looked up from her pussy. She slid her tongue out over her lips. "Are you allowed to masturbate while away from home?"

I stood up. My erection poked out of the fly of my shorts. "Yes."

Melody tugged on a nipple. "Are you allowed to be watched while you masturbate?"

"It is not specifically forbidden," I replied. I was rubbing my cock.

Melody looked right into my eyes. "Take off your shorts."

I shoved them off and stepped out of them. I held my cock.

Melody stared at my erection. "Cut, just like I prefer. Jerk off with me, Bob. Cum for me. Cum on me."

I stood between Melody's long, lithe legs, stroking my cock while she rubbed her clit with one hand and fingered her drenched sex with the other. We were both panting.

"Tell me what you're thinking," she said.

I fought my rising climax as I spoke. "I want to move your hands and eat your pussy. I want you to fill my mouth with your climax."

"More," Melody growled. "Dirtier."

"I want to hold your legs back and shove my tongue into your asshole."

Melody grunted, and a wave of milky fluid poured out of her vagina. Her wild eyes urged me on.

"I want to kneel over you, lube your big tits with your cum and fuck them, shoving the head of my cock into your mouth on each stroke until I burst inside your nasty mouth and pull out, cumming on your face and tits."

Another groan and flowing climax. "More, you dirty fucker."

"I'll put you on your hands and knees, your face in the ground. I'll grab your hips and jam my cock in your cunt like I hate you."

While Melody climaxed again, I moved until I was next to her face.

"I have to cum. Your slutty fucking body is making me crazy."

Melody turned her head. "Do it. Cum in my slutty mouth and then all over me." She opened her mouth wide.

I huffed my breath as my orgasm rose. I forced myself to stroke slowly. Then it was there. "Cumming, Melody."

I held the tip of my cock inches from her mouth as I came. A long, hard shot right into her gaping mouth. I pulled back, and the second arc struck her face as I turned. I let the last one loose over her perfect breasts.

Melody swirled my load and swallowed. Her hand came to my belly and pushed me away; she was grinning. "Go -- now, or I swear I will Ra*e you."

I picked up my shorts and left.

As I turned into the hall to our suite, I saw my mother, still in that T-shirt, entering our suite.

As I walked in, she had just pulled off the T-shirt. She looked at me and bent over to slip on a red thong while talking.

"I'm going to be cranky all day. I hardly slept. I've never shared a bed, and it was disquieting."

As she talked, she clipped her bra, unconcerned with the show she was putting on. "Would you like to ask Melody to put me in another room?"

Mom had her work pants and shirt on by then. She brushed by me and left, saying, "I'll be fine. I'll get used to it. Melody has done more than I ever expected."

I stood in the room, staring at the door. She'd seen us. I knew it. Is she mad because she thinks I'm cheating on Barb or something else? It was the something else that I couldn't get off my mind.

I returned to the kitchen, fully dressed. Melody was at the stove, wearing jeans and a T-shirt, cooking eggs and bacon. "Hope you're hungry," she said. "We eat big and work big here." It was as if the last hour had never happened.

Mom sat at the island. "I asked Melody if she would let us help with the chores. I don't know much about farm life other than the work never ends."

Melody had three plates on the island. She turned from the stove and divided the food among them.

"You're our guests, but we'd never say no if you want to help."

As we ate, Melody explained the routines of farm life. Many of the tasks -- in fact, almost all of them -- were low-skill and well-suited to my mother and me.

As we ate, Melody caught my eye and smiled. My mother watched me and Melody, reading us.

After we cleaned up breakfast, Melody gave each of us a pair of worn work gloves, a baseball cap, and a clean bandana, and showed us the list.

Mom and I divided the tasks between us. My first task was stall cleaning. Mom headed for the feed shed; I headed for the stable.

The stable had a center aisle, ten feet wide, with five stalls on one side and four on the other. A tack room at the far end replaced the fifth stall. Melody had said the cart and pitchfork should be by the tack room.

The only shoes I had with me were my sneakers, so my steps were soundless as I walked the length of the stable. The tools were leaning against the wall at the other end.

I heard voices from the room, and more. I slipped into the last stall to listen. The boards on the wall were rough-sawn and not well-fitted. I looked through a large gap.

Deuce and Anna were in the room. Anna's jeans were unbuttoned and shoved down to allow her brother's hand between her legs. Deuce's pants were around his feet, along with his briefs. Anna's hand stroked his erection. They were kissing, deep and hard, and moaning.

I stared and thought, Is the whole family having sex?

Anna broke their kiss and whispered, "This is too dangerous, Deuce. We have guests. Oh fuck!"

Deuce's hand twitched. "You like that, sis?" He nibbled Anna's neck. "City folk. They won't be up for a while."

Anna pulled away and turned, facing a saddle on a wooden horse. "You better be right. You hit my spot, and now I need you in me. Make it fast, brother."

She shoved her pants and pink thong down to her ankles and lay over the saddle. I caught movement at the window. My mother was watching them. Deuce and Anna were facing away from the window. I didn't think they could see her.

Deuce got on his knees behind his sister. "Gotta make sure you're wet enough."

Anna moaned as her brother's mouth contacted her pussy, "Ohhh, you liar. You like licking me."

With her legs still in her jeans, Deuce had trouble really giving the tongue to her. His fingers dug into her cleft and pulled her ass cheeks open.

"Do not lick your sister's asshole," she moaned. He did, poking his tongue into her star. "Ohh, that's good. Stop that, and fuck me,"

Deuce stood up and aligned his cock with her entrance. He held her trim hips and slid in. "Oh, so fucking good."

Anna huffed, "Better than Mom?"

Deuce stroked his cock in and out. I could hear the wetness. "Different."

"Good answer, brother. Faster, I need to get off."

I looked past the sexing siblings. Mom was still at the window. I left the stall and went out the far end of the stable, walking around the outside.

I peeked around the corner at the far end. Mom was at the window. Her work pants were unbuttoned, unzipped, and half down her thighs, her green thong with them. My mother was masturbating while watching incest.

I know so little about my own mother. She is a voyeur, but does she just like watching others have sex, and is ignoring the incest, or is it the incest that makes it worth watching?

My cock was a bar in my pants. I was conflicted. Do I go back and watch the siblings fuck, or watch my mother masturbate? Mom had the cutest ass, round and firm; I was captivated.

Another thing I'd never noticed about my mother was that she had a 'thigh gap.' Most women's legs are a V at the top. Some women, however, like my mother, have a 'U,' making a gap between their legs. That allowed Mom to get her hand between her legs with ease, and, since she was bending over, I got a perfect view of her hand massaging her pussy.

I unbuttoned and unzipped my pants, shoving my briefs under my cock. I could hear Deuce and Anna through the gaps in the outside wall while I watched my mother pleasure herself. I wasn't going to last very long.

Mom's body shook, and a milky fluid flowed over her hand. From the other side of the wall, I heard Deuce. "Cummin', sis."

Anna moaned, "Hold it. I want it in my mouth."

My cock twitched and then spurted as I heard the rustling and Deuce moan, "Take it, Anna. Take it all."

Mom came again, covering her hand with her cum. I backed up and around the corner, holding my pants up. Once out of sight, I got myself back in order and headed back to the far end of the stable to make a noisy entry and get some work done.

Anna and Deuce walked out of the tack room as I walked up the stable. Deuce gave me a nervous glance, and Anna just smiled.

I spent the rest of the morning cleaning stalls and re-running what I'd seen through my mind.

We were sitting at the picnic table by the pool, eating lunch. Melody, the perfect host, had made us sandwiches and lemonade. As we ate, she'd look at me and then at Mom. I couldn't help but blush, and neither could Mom. Hank and Deuce appeared oblivious, but Anna just smiled. I felt like I should be keeping a scorecard: who was fucking whom and who knew. -- Even more than that, I wanted to know what was up with my mother, whom I'd never known to have an interest in sex, and certainly not incest.

After lunch, I helped Melody clean up. We were standing in the kitchen. Melody closed the dishwasher and turned to me.

"Bob, I need you to walk the back trail. We've had a problem with trappers poaching foxes on our land."

She explained how to spot the traps, which, being disguised, would be tough to see from the seat of a quad. It all made sense to me.

Deuce had the pickup and was headed into town to get feed. Hank and Anna went to exercise the horses. Melody had office work, and Mom was checking the fences on a quad. It appeared as though my afternoon would be limited to work.

I'd been walking for about half an hour when I saw Hank and Anna's horses tied to a tree. I stopped and listened; I heard voices and a stream flowing. I maneuvered around so I would be downwind of them; wind carries sound. I stepped carefully to avoid making noise.

A line of bushes blocked my view. I could hear that Hank and Anna were on the other side. There was a small gap in the branches; I stepped up to it, and could see them through it.

They were sitting on the rocks at the edge of a pool, undressing, in no hurry, chatting about farm business as they disrobed. I thought Melody said there were no secrets, so I guess this is okay?

They pulled off their boots and socks. Hank peeled his T-shirt off and tossed it aside. He had a working man's body -- not cut up like a weightlifter, but definitely in shape. Anna threw her tank top on the growing pile. She wore a tan sports bra, which she peeled off. Anna had better tits than her mom -- big, but very firm. Hank stood up and unbuckled his belt, leaving it in the loops as he unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. Anna stood and watched, her pants undone, open, and unzipped, with her hand down the front.

"I love watching you strip, Dad," she said.

Hank shoved his jeans down his legs and stepped out of them as he answered, "I like that we got away. It's nice to help folks, but it's cutting into the family fun."

Hank stood in just his white briefs, his erection filling the front and the head peeking out of the waistband. Anna slid her jeans down and kicked them off, leaving only her pink thong. She was a younger version of Melody.

She moved into her father's open arms. "Deuce and I got a quickie in the tack room this morning."

Hank hugged her, his mouth at her ear and his hands filled with her trim little ass. "That was risky. Mom asked Bob to clean the stalls. Hope he didn't see you."

Anna kissed Hank long and deep, her hand massaging his covered erection. She pulled back. "Marcy watched us. She was at the window. She watched till Deuce came on my face. I'd say she's a fan."

They had their hands in each other's underwear, shoving them down and kicking them off as they moved to a patch of soft grass. Hank lay down. His cock stood up. It was a little bigger than mine, and cut. Anna followed him, and I noticed that her pubic hair was lighter and shorter than Melody's.

"I'd agree. She wouldn't have stayed to watch if she didn't like it. You have your brother cum on your face so your dad could lick your pussy?"

Anna saw my mother? What is it with this family? Captivated by the incestuous display, I unbuckled my pants, unzipped them, and shoved them down along with my briefs. My cock was rock hard; I wanted to enjoy the show. Anna stood over her prone father's face.

"Oh, Dad, I know you don't mind, but yeah, I wanted to be nice and clean for you."

Hank ran his hand up his daughter's leg, lightly touching her pussy.

Anna gently bit her lip. "You're killin' me, Dad." Anna turned around, facing his feet. "I have a better idea."

She knelt, putting her hands on Hank's legs to steady herself, and nestled her pussy onto her father's mouth as she leaned forward, taking his cock into hers. They both moaned.

I pinched the base of my cock to hold back my climax. I had become a voyeur, like my mother— so much change in such a short time.

Hank's hands spread Anna's ass, and his finger massaged her hole. She gulped his cock like a pro. He paused and gently pushed her off.

"Baby, we've only got time for Dad to cum once. Where do you want it?"

Anna swung around until they were face to face. "In my pussy, Dad."

I stopped touching myself. I was so close to cumming. Watching real sex between family members you knew was intense. Anna reached between her trim legs and held her dad's cock, swiping the head along her pussy to lube it. She leaned down and kissed Hank as her hips dropped, and she took him in.

I cursed silently as I climaxed, hands-free. My cock spurted on the branch in front of me. Something that had never happened to me. I stroked my cock, coaxing out two more shots.

I tried to get off once more, but it had been a busy morning for masturbation. I settled for watching Anna ride her father on a swath of grass beside a burbling stream.

"Dad, I'm close, Anna moaned. "Give me the finger,"

Hank reached around her and wet his finger in his daughter's pussy, moved it back, and shoved it up her ass. She howled.

"Yesss! she yelled as her body shook, and I watched her climax flow over her father's hips. "Oh, Daddy!"

"Right here with you, baby," Hank said, shoving her hips down as he rammed up, cumming inside her.

Anna fell forward and rested on top of Hank. I heard leaves rustle and looked to my left in surprise. Ten feet away, Mom had snuck up and been watching Hank, Anna, and apparently her son. She was bending over, facing away, pulling up her thong and pants. I could clearly see her open pussy, the hair shiny and matted.

Mom never turned back. She walked away carefully, avoiding any sticks that might crack under her feet. I looked back through the bush. Anna and Hank were getting dressed. I slipped away, making sure to stay quiet.

I did find two traps, so Melody wasn't setting me up to watch; I guess I'd gotten lucky. As I walked back to the house, I had plenty of time to think about my mother.

We'd been the guests of the Conners for twenty-four hours, and in that time, I'd learned more about my mother than I had in the preceding twenty-six years. She was an attractive woman. She had sexual thoughts. She was not offended by incest -- maybe. I'd already considered the possibility that she was just a voyeur. But what if? I decided to watch and see.

As I walked, my cock grew, and I had to admit that I wanted to have sex with my mother; even at that I wasn't going to make a move unless and until she gave me a clear signal.

I went up to the guest suite to shower. I opened the door and walked in. Mom stood on the far side of the bed. She turned as I entered. She was naked and looked lovely. I hadn't seen her breasts clearly before. They were beautiful -- not large, but two perfect firm cones. Her nipples were fat and long, and centered on dark brown areolas.

"You don't mind if I go first?" she asked, making no move to cover herself.

"No," I replied. "Uh, you're a bit casual."

Mom shrugged. "We're adults and family."

With that cryptic remark, Mom entered the bathroom and closed the door.

I thought about stripping, but didn't think it was a good idea. I lay on the bed and looked at a magazine I'd found on the shelf. Then I heard sounds from the bathroom. I put the magazine down and listened. They were muffled, but if you had the right imagination, they certainly sounded like fucking. I remembered seeing Mom's toy, and my brain formed the image of my mother fucking her dildo in the shower. I stripped down to my briefs and rubbed my erection through the cotton.

The shower shut off, and I jumped up and put on loose athletic shorts to conceal my erection. The door opened, and Mom walked out in just a teal thong. Her body curved in all the right places, and that round ass of hers was captivating. I fought to avoid staring.

"All yours" was her only remark.

Her eyes went to the prominent bulge in my shorts as I passed. She gave my boner a good look and then went back to putting on her matching bra.

I closed the bathroom door and got another surprise. Mom's suction cup dildo was still on the wall of the shower. I stared at the pink phallus and pictured my mother riding it. I assumed it was a mistake. I left it there, but it felt odd when I brushed against it during my shower.​