Incest/Taboo Omelettes for Breakfast

The mother is based on a woman I knew in college. She was pretty, but complained about her small breasts – she didn't think they went with her curvy body – and what she called (I did not agree) her mousy brown hair. We were occasional lovers, helping each other out between boyfriends or after a party, and while fun, she was conventional in bed. She graduated, moved several states away, and months later came back for a visit. I met her at the airport: she was blonde, "C" breasted, and on fire. Back at my place she was all over me; we barely got out of bed the rest of the weekend. The boob job and highlighting had freed her inner slut.

As always, all story characters engaged in sexual activities are eighteen years of age or older.
​

* * * * *​

I did not recognize the car parked in front of the house. The door mat had reversed the door mat; it now faced the house. I checked the time. Mom would be home in half-an-hour, my sister knew that; whatever she had going on inside was wrapping up.

I could have gone to the coffee shop and waited, but I'm as curious (or nosy) as the next guy. I rolled my bicycle around the back, stuck my head inside, heard the upstairs shower running, ducked into the den, left the door cracked open. I was goofing on my tablet when my sister, wearing a robe, and Moa Berg, one of mother's hot friends – five foot, nine inches, 31-22-34, short brown hair, small round breasts, large wonderfully expressive blue eyes – came down the stairs. They kissed, one of those long indolent wow-was-the-sex-great-we-need-to-do-it-again kisses, and said good-bye.

Then Clara turned, stared straight at me, and said, "You're busted baby brother."

Emerging from the den I said, "How did you know?"

"That door was closed when Ms. Berg and I went upstairs."

I said, "You're observant," kissed her lips, "Moa Berg, huh. She tastes hot, is she hot?"

She said, "Very. You should take a shot at her; she's bored with her husband, wants to try new things," then kissed me, teased my tongue with hers. I slipped my hand inside her robe, ran my thumb over her nipple; she pressed her leg to my erection; the garage door opened. Fuck, Mom was home.

She walked in to my sister and I, the picture of innocence.

"Hey kids. Your Dad called, he's running late. Dinner will be delayed."

"Good, my baby brother wanted to show me something on his computer, now we'll have time. We'll be upstairs."

We moved when my sister took off for college nine months ago. In the new house the master bedroom was downstairs, mine and the guest (my sister's when she was home) upstairs. My parents rarely came upstairs, especially since I kept it neat and clean. Clara and I would not be disturbed.
​

* * * * *​

It would have been a nice day to have a smaller car for we, even Clara, struggled to haul ourselves up into Mom's SUV. Clara had an audition tomorrow and partly to get ready and partly to work off nervous energy, she'd pushed herself through a work-out brutal even by her standards. It wouldn't be true to say Mom and I kept up, that would have been impossible, but, inspired by Clara we'd worked hard. We were pooped.

At home we showered, changed, and I, being the first one done, fixed three protein-laced smoothies.

What happened next might not have happened any other day of my life. It was a serendipitous confluence of events: the hard work-out spiked our endorphins, I was feeling my oats (I scored Moa Berg that morning (my sister was right, she was some hot)), and the fact that someone asked. Mom and Clara came out of my parents' bedroom wearing leggings and sleeveless tanks that left little to the imagination, Mom saying, "Why can't I get my ass as tight as yours, I've been trying for years."

Clara, with her dancer's butt, round and hard, said, "It's genetic, you're curvier than me. I take after Dad's family. And your rump's fine, ask your son."

They looked at me.

My mother had never asked for my opinion of her ass before.

I loved my mother's ass; it had the most delightful jiggle when she walked by.

Handing each lady a smoothie, I stood behind Mom, studied her butt (as if I hadn't been for years), asked her to tighten it up (she did), and said, "Clara's right, you have a great ass."

Mom opened the utility closet, which had a full length mirror on the back of the door, studied her backside, studied her body, then gestured to her chest. "Maybe you guys are right, but my curves don't look right with me being so flat up here."

Mom's dissatisfaction with her breasts was no secret. She'd mentioned them, and augmentation, on and off for years. Dad didn't seem to take her seriously, assuring his wife he liked her just the way she was, but in a passing way, more "Dear, I'm tired of talking about this," then, "Dear, by the time I get done with you tonight you'll know what a fine a piece of ass I think you are."
​

* * * * *​

At dinner several days later Mom and Dad both were distracted. That was the norm for Dad, his mind invariably drifting back to the office or his golf game or who knows what. What was going on in Mom's head only became clear when, while serving dessert, she said, "Honey, I've been thinking about having work done on my chest."

Before Dad could respond Clara said, "You should Mom, as hard as you work to keep in shape, eat right, hit the gym, take care of yourself, you should have the body you want. Plus, not that I don't already have the world's hottest Mom, but you'd look fricking amazing. What do you think baby brother?"

I, a bit taken aback to be asked in front of Dad, went with the flow.

"Clara's right Mom, as dedicated as you are to keeping fit, as pretty as you are, you deserve it. Plus it would also look great with your figure. Whatta ya think Dad?"

My father, bewildered by the turn in the conversation, said. "The kids are right dear."
​

* * * * *​

The procedure was scheduled for the afternoon but Clara and Mom left early, saying they had a surprise planned. I'd meet them at the out-patient facility. Since Mom was in good hands, Dad went to work.

In the prep room I discovered why they'd left early, Mom had her hair highlighted and straightened. Where there was once, like my sister, thick curly auburn locks, there was now a blonde. She'd also talked about doing this for years, believing blonde hair went better with her pale complexion, and seeing was believing, she looked great.

"Wow Mom, you were right about the color, it's perfect with your skin."

Mom turned, showed me the back, and said, "You really like it?"

"Yeah, may I touch?"

"Go ahead."

I ran my fingers through her hair, did the same with Clara's, and said, "The same wonderful thick texture. You look great."

Mom said, "What do you think your father will say?"

That set my sister off. "What will Dad say? Who cares? I don't notice him at the gym, eating right, taking care of himself. You look great, you know it, Steven and I know it, that's all that matters."
​

* * * * *​

The procedure finished, Mom, blanket covering her, was home in bed. Dad was with her.

"How do you feel?"

"Groggy. What do you think of the hair?"

"It's nice dear."

"My breasts are all ugly, sore and bruised. I'm not sure I should have done this."

Absent-mindedly patting her arm, Dad said, "It'll be fine dear."
​

* * * * *​

Clara was with Mom.

"Let me see 'em!"

"I don't know, they're bruised. Maybe I shouldn't have done this. Are you sure?"

Clara said, "Fuck yes," Mom opened her gown, and Clara said, "Ohmigod, look at the shape, my god they're fricking perfect. You look so fricking good. Maybe I should get mine done."
​

* * * * *​

Prior to my visit Mom pulled the blanket back over herself.

"Y'know Mom, the more I see your hair, the more I like it. It already seems like your natural color. You were right, you should have done it years ago."

"Thank you son."

"And how are your breasts? My sister tells me the augmentation was a raving success, that they look, you look amazing. Do I get a peek?"

"Thank you, but no. I was disappointed when I first saw them, they're bruised and sore."

I lay a hand on her shoulder, kissed her, and said, "Well, it may suck now, but the bruising and soreness will go away and I, for one, am dying to show off an even hotter Mom."
​

* * * * *​

Mom was in the bathroom, looking in the mirror. The swelling was gone, the bruising was gone. She'd read breasts might be desensitized by the surgery. She squeezed them, stroked the nipples, felt it through her body, squeezed them again, felt it in her toes.

She tipped her left breast upwards and licked the nipple – that was something she couldn't have done a fortnight ago – felt the sensation flood her body. She did it again, with the flat of her tongue, goose bumps erupted on her skin. She looked around, as if there might be a stranger in the bathroom, then sucked on the nipple, tickled it with the tip of her tongue, pushed a hand inside her jeans. Her clit was hard and quivering. The kids were going to a party tonight, it would be just she and her husband. She hoped her new breasts revved up his engines. She needed a good fuck.

Then she heard Clara's voice: "Mom let me in, I want to see them."

Embracing the opportunity to show off the goods Mom jerked her hand from her pants, mock complained, "Can I get no privacy in this house?" and unlocked the door.

"Ohmigod, they're gorgeous, perfect, perfect size, perfect shape. How firm are they?"

Giddy with her daughter's reaction Mom said, "How firm? I feel like a teenager again."

"Can I, can I touch them?"

A pause, then, "Sure."

Hands open, Clara covered Mom's breasts and squeezed, starting with a gentle touch, but growing more assertive, enjoying the firm ample flesh, noting how they swelled in her hand.

Sliding her hands to the side Clara then ran her fingers over the turgid nipples and said, "Wow, you do feel like a teenager. Are they as sensitive as ever?"

Clara knew the answer to her question: Mom's shudders, gasps, hard nipples, and the smell of her arousal had answered it, but still Clara smiled when Mom said, "Yeah, maybe it's just because I like them so much, but they seem more responsive than ever."

Continuing to fondle Mom's breasts, feel them flush with blood, the nipples and areolas harden and heat up, Clara said, "Yeah, I can feel them trembling in my hand."
​

* * * * *​

That night Dad was not in the mood. After he went to bed Mom, frustrated and resentful, turned the lights down low, sat on the living room couch, switched on a favorite vibrator.
​

* * * * *​

When Mom said she was ready to return to the gym Clara and I decided to surprise her with new work-out clothes. We'd looked at several things when Clara said, "Bingo."

It was a sleeveless tank top. One side was a uniform white, the other a mesh top. Seeing the confusion on my face Clara said, "It's reversible, you can wear the mesh in the back and show off your shoulders and upper back or in the front over your favorite sports bra and show off the boobies. It goes perfect with the gray leggings and pink bra we looked at earlier. We'll get two."

"Two?"

"Yeah two. In case you haven't noticed, Mom's a little skittish about showing the girls, concerned about how people might react. This way she and I can dress alike, it will dilute the attention, make her more comfortable.
​

* * * * *​

Spin class over, Mom was mopping the sweat from her face when she felt the instructor's hand on her back.

"Girl, they're something else, lookin' good."

The comment reflected the general consensus.
​

* * * * *​

Two anonymous guys, embarrassed when I caught then staring at my mother's chest, filed out; Mom, Clara, and I had the sauna to ourselves.

I said, "See Mom, there was no reason to worry, they were, you are a hit."

Clara said, "Yeah Mom, they're beautiful. Everybody was checking you out. And now that we're alone, why don't you show 'em to Steven,"

Mom said, "I can't do that. Can I do that?"

Clara said, "Sure you can, no one will know and I'm sure my baby brother is curious. After all, I talk about them all the time. Am I right Steven?'

"Yep."

Mom looked around, as if someone might be obscured in the clouds of steam, then pulled her towel away.

Clara said, "So baby brother, what do you think?

"Spectacular, amazing, beautiful shape."

I wasn't puffing.

Clara reached over, held one. "Firm too. Mom, you should have done this years ago. Why don't you let Steven touch them?"

Mom said, "That's going a bit too far."

I leaned back on my bench and said, "You always liked Clara best." Mom heard some noise outside and wrapped the towel back around herself. No one came in, however, and I pretended not to notice Clara, her arm laying across Mom's shoulder, occasionally running a finger on the top of Mom's breast.
​

* * * * *​

From that day forward I felt free to comment on Mom's looks, her clothes, her breasts, with words like "hot" and "sexy" and "bodacious," phrases formerly verboten. I touched her more, let my hands linger longer.

Clara was far ahead of me. The two of them consulted on clothes, dressed together, grew comfortable with each other's barely clothed or naked bodies. Clara would urge Mom to show off, wear clothes tight and revealing. When my opinion was sought I never advised caution.

There were two Moms. When she went out with Dad, she was the old Mom. Lounging around the house, or going out with Clara, or me, or both, she was a major hottie.

And the three of us did more and more together.
​

* * * * *​

It was a Wednesday night, Mom's birthday. The three of us were going to dinner, then heading for Minerva's. Minerva's was Clara's idea. It was the town's hot lesbian bar, but, my sister said, the cool straights had recently discovered it. They were okay, sort of pets, but it presaged the day when the uncool straights showed up and ruined the place. It was now or never.

When Clara suggested it I had my doubts.

"Does Mom know you dig women and men."

"Sure, I don't hide that from anybody."

One of my eyebrows went up.

"Okay, except Dad."

Clara was right, Mom jumped all over it. It was, I realized, a place where she could cut loose without worrying about running into neighbors and friends.
​

* * * * *​

I dressed in my room, headed downstairs. Yesterday Mom and Clara had returned to the house toting several shopping bags, a cat that ate the canary grin on their faces, and the tease that I'd see tomorrow, that it'd be worth the wait.

They were in the kitchen. While Mom talked to Dad on the phone, "Thank you for the flowers dear. I understand work calls, you had to be out of town. We'll get together as a family this weekend. Tonight the kids are taking me to dinner, I expect we'll be late, don't wait up for a call," I checked out my sister. She was wearing skin-hugging fashionably-ripped jeans, a tight black long-sleeved off-the-shoulder pull-over shirt, and boots. Mom was even more out there: leather mini-dress whose spaghetti straps and low neck line riveted your attention on her chest, four inch stiletto heels held to her feet by ankle and toe straps, and a gold necklace, I think; the jewelry I don't recall all that well.

They'd also been right; it was worth the wait.

Mom had dressed like a woman who wanted to be ogled and, in return, I made no effort to hide my covetous gaze. When Mom put down the phone she smiled at my obvious interest and said, "How do I look?" I said, "Let me look," walked around her body – damn her butt looked fine – and said, "Hot as shit."

"And your sister?"

I moved behind Clara, wrapped my arms around her shoulders, pressed my erection to her butt, and said, "My sister, as always, is a big-time babe."
​

* * * * *​

We ate at a trendy, and very good sandwich place, I enjoying the people checking out my dates, wondering how I got so lucky. Clara and Mom, digging the attention as much as I, put on a show: flirting and teasing, touching me, wiping bits of food from the corners of my mouth, straightening my hair and shirt, leaving every guy there wishing he was me.
​

* * * * *​

As we approached Minerva's Clara said, "It's a Wednesday, it should be relatively slow, we'll get noticed. We're on a first name basis. We start dancing with you in that dress, calling you Mom, people will freak, that's a little too kinky even for this place. Mom, keep your wedding ring on, let everyone think your husband is out of town and you're dipping your toe on the wild side with me and this young man. We'll keep the exact nature of our relationship ambiguous, are you with Steven, me, or both, but make it clear you're leaving with us. These women can get pretty aggressive, you don't want them calling the house.

"And Mom, in that dress, there'll be some inappropriate touching."

Laughing, Mom said, "Maybe that's why I wore it."

My sister was right, while Minerva's was busy, it was still not the weekend crowd and everyone noticed when my two hotties and I entered the room. By the time our drinks arrived Clara was dancing with a heavily tattooed brunette, her writhing body and bubble ass catching everyone's eye.

I danced with Mom; we were relatively tame. Then a blonde cut in and the two of them quickly got untame, the woman running her hands on Mom's body, Mom returning the favor. Asked to dance by a spike-haired redhead, I saw Mom dancing with someone new, a lot of flirting, a lot of touching. Clara had been right; Mom, safely anonymous, was enjoying stretching her wings.

With the next song I danced with a new partner, saw Mom and Clara dancing together. Clara was putting on a show, bumping and grinding on Mom, and Mom, although not Clara's equal, did a pretty good imitation.

Song followed song; we danced, at times with each other, at times with strangers. Mom got more brazen, and got ever more brazen attention until, after a couple of hours, Clara pulled us aside.

"It's time to get out of here. I asked the owner to play something slow. I'll dance with her. I want you two to dance together, tight and sexy, put on a show."

"Why, what's going on?"

"Mom, half the women here are in love with you, the other half, it's lust. Who can blame them, as good as you look, as sexy as you move, if I wasn't your daughter, well shit. Everyone needs to understand you're not in play, that you came with me and this young stud, you're leaving with me and this stud, and you're gonna rock our worlds. It's clear this big-titted, leather-wearing, smoldering-hot blonde is having a good time; it better be equally clear that will be the ones putting out the fire between your legs. Dance, make them believe it. The last thing we need is these women tracking you down. You want to explain them to Dad?"

Scanning the crowd, imagining Dad finding them at the front door, Mom said, "I see your point. Ready to put on a show Steven?"

I wrapped an arm around her waist and said, "Yep."

The music started. Clara danced with a pretty petite blonde and I pressed my body to Mom, placed a hand on her hip, intertwined the fingers of my other hand with Mom's, held them on her shoulder. We moved across the floor, my erection grazed her stomach.

Sliding her hips on me she said, "It's impressive son, I can see why you're so popular with the ladies. Tell me, why do lesbians turn guys on?'

I said, "Good question, don't know the answer. I hope you're enjoying your birthday half as much as I am. I've loved watching you dance in that dress. It's hot as hell."

"If you keep talking like that I might take you seriously."

"You should. You've always been sexy, now you're sexier than ever. I love the hair, the breasts. Y'know, by now I should have my hand on your ass."

Dragging her tits across my chest she said, "You do have a thing for my butt, although I still think it's too plump. Go ahead, Clara said we're supposed to make a statement."

I moved my hand down her side to her ass, squeezed, said, "Sorry Mom, can't agree with you, your backside is perfect," squeezed again. She pushed her hips into me, increased the pressure on my erection, and said, "Are you sure you should talk to your mother like that?"

I said, "Absolutely, after all I'm the stud who's going to put out the fire between your legs, and why shouldn't I, my mother's a piece of ass. Should I pretend not to notice?"

Mom said, "I guess I should take that as a compliment," moved our clasped hands from her shoulder across our bodies, stopped on her breast, said. "It's about time you copped a feel. We want everyone to know you're getting lucky tonight," then slid her hand down my body to my hip, leaving my hand on her breast. Accepting the invitation I squeezed, not too hard. Mom rolled her shoulder, pressed her breast into my hand, buried her head in my shoulder, and whispered, "You say you like my tits, let everyone know."

I squeezed, trailed my thumb over the exposed upper third of her breast. Drawing attention to what I was doing, Mom rotated her shoulder, pushed her breast into my hand. I slipped the tip of my thumb under the seam of her leather top and Mom, her body swaying with mine, said, "Go ahead, convince them I'm going home with you tonight."

I moved my thumb under the hem of her dress and said, "Do you think this is enough?"

Licking my ear, mother whispered, "You are a very bad boy, but it would be best to be safe."

She moved her hand to my ass, ground her hips on my erection; I grazed her nipple with my thumb.

The music stopped, mother tilted her head, and I pressed my mouth to hers, swiped my tongue on her lips, felt hers slip from her mouth and touch mine.

My sister interrupted us. "Let me introduce you to Gwen, she owns the place."

Gwen, the blonde Clara had been dancing with, was about Mom's age. I kissed her cheek, moved behind Mom, wrapped my arms around her chest, and held her to me while Gwen said, "Clara says it's your birthday. I hope you had a good time."

"It's been a blast, this is my first time in a gay nightclub."

Gwen said, "We appear to be transitioning to a more catholic crowd, although if we keep getting couples as steamy as you two, no one will object."
​

* * * * *​

Clara, who'd stopped at two drinks, said she'd chauffeur; Mom and I would ride in the back; I'd rub Mom's shoulders.

Mom, happy at the prospect, climbed in and seat belt loose around her waist, leaned her body into mine. Taking my time, I worked her shoulders, felt her relax – my neck rubs had gotten me into the bed of more than one lady – and Mom, feeling no pain, said, "Clara, how many of the women there tonight have you slept with?"

I knew Mom was aware of Clara's sexuality, but had never heard her mention it.

Without batting an eye Clara said, "Just Gwen."

"So what's the difference between being with a guy and a girl."

"In bed, or as companions?"

"Both."

"Well, if you tell a gay girl you're bisexual she thinks it's a phase, or you're experimenting, or playing. When you tell a guy he thinks it's sexy as hell and wants a threesome. In fact, guys think being bisexual means you automatically consent to threesomes."

"Have you?"

Mom was feeling no pain.

"A few times, if you have the right mix it's fun, but the right mix is rare."

I kept working Mom's shoulders. Mom said, "Tell me more."

"The actual relationship? With women I get more deeply involved, it's a more profound emotional connection. I get over guys more easily; women are harder.

"Nuts and bolts? Women are more thoughtful, there's a lot more emotion, a lot more talking about things, it's a much softer experience. Women hold doors open, help with coats. No guy would think of baking cookies when you've had a bad day or of doing your laundry when you're in a hurry. With guys you can be direct, with women you have to be more polite. Flirting with girls is more fun, more sly, poking gentle fun at each other. Guys think, 'We'll see when we fuck,' is flirting.

"On the other hand women can get real clingy, real fast."

I was working my hands forward, focusing on Mom's upper chest.

"Woman are emotionally more fulfilling, men take less energy, they're simpler. Dating a woman, there's a thousand jigsaw pieces. A man, he's a two-piece puzzle. Men tell you what they want and are happy when you tell them what you want. That decreases the drama, makes it easier to have a rational discussion. With guys you can also always calm all the shit down by having sex with them. Girls are harder, more complicated. It's so easy to blunder you're way through a serious discussion or say the wrong thing. And women never forget a slight or mistake.

"Sex? Women are softer, taste better, smell better. And I don't mean because of their perfume and shampoo, it's just their scent. Men have their own scent, it's lovely, but not the same. I think women better understand what they want in bed, but either gender can be afraid to express it.

"Kissing? Men are harder, more intense, give you stubble burn, too much tongue, slobbery lips, face-eating, but they can be wonderfully aggressive and dominant. Women wait for you to take the initiative, men like to trade it back and forth. On the whole I prefer kissing girls; it's softer, warmer, more genuine. Girls kiss to kiss, guys kiss to fuck.

"Cuddling? Women are generally better and have boob pillows, those attachments that make sleeping on their chests so fricking great. Men are hotter; I don't mean sexier; I mean they're fricking radiators. Nothing like sharing a bed with a guy on a cold evening.

"Men keep up better with my sex drive. And while men can be selfish in bed, it's so hot when a guy just takes what he wants. When you want sex that's over-the-top physical, men are great.

"I reckon I'll end up with a guy. I mean, besides social convention, with women you can find that emotional resonance through friendship. With a guy, at least any guy you find attractive, or who finds you attractive, every friendship is tinged with sex."

Neither of us had heard my sister discourse on men versus women. I was fascinated, Mom even more so. And, our dance fresh in my mind, the atmosphere charged with sex, I moved my hands down. When my pinkies dipped below the hem of Mom's dress she said, "Clara, your brother's trying to feel me up."

Clara said, "Do you blame him? You've been showing the girls off all night, I've told him how great they are, and you let him touch them on the dance floor."

Saying, "Those are valid points," Mom wrapped her fingers around my wrists, moved my hands over her warm firm breasts, and said, "Happy son?"

Before I could respond Clara said, "So what do you think Steven? Did I exaggerate?

I squeezed. "No, they're spectacular."

I stroked my mother's breasts, wondered how far this would go, and Clara said, "How about you Mom, have you been with a woman? Are you interested, or is this intellectual curiosity?"

Settling her body into mine, the arousal in her voice unmistakable, Mom said, "Can I trust you kids to keep a secret, and especially from your father?"

"You can trust me, how 'bout you baby brother?"

It seemed a silly question, I was fondling her breasts, she must trust me to keep quiet, but said, "Promise."

"I got close a few times, when I was younger, a little flirting, some kissing. Yeah, more than curious, interested. Some of those women tonight looked pretty good."

We'd pulled into the garage, but I took my time, sliding my hands from my mother's breasts, enjoying the feeling of her hard nipples trapped between my fingers and the warm tit-flesh.

The car came to a stop. I wasn't sure where all this was going, but it promised to be interesting.

I didn't need wait long to find out.

I crawled out one door, Clara opened the other, helped Mom out, brought her mouth to Mom's – it was not a mother-daughter kiss — and said, "Well Mom, if you're curious, what could be safer than here, in this house, me? Dad's out of town, there'll never be a better time to let your inner slut out to play."

Mom ran her tongue along her lips and in a smoky voice said, "Aren't I a little old for you, and your mother?"

It was not an objection, but a softball tossed into Clara's wheelhouse. Clara knocked it out of the park. Curling her fingers around Mom's upper arm, she ran a thumb on her skin and said, "Too old? Gwen's your age and she's some fun in the sack, and in case I haven't been clear, I think you're sexy as hell. We could fool around a bit, see if you like. If you don't, we stop, never mention it again."

Clara leaned in, their lips met, moved against each other; Clara slipped her tongue inside Mom's mouth.

When the kiss ended Mom looked at me, then back to Clara, and said, "You two need to promise, no one will ever know, and that you won't hold it over me."

I said, "Promise." Clara said, "Promise, and maybe we'll let you in on a secret you can always hold over us," pressed her body to Mom, flattening her breasts on her chest, kissed her. I moved behind Mom, slipped the spaghetti straps off her shoulders, watched them slide down her arms. When Clara stepped back the leather fell away from Mom's heaving breasts.

Clara reached up, rolled Mom's nipples between her fingers, and said, "They're beautiful." I pulled the zipper down Mom's back, dragged a finger behind it, caressing her soft skin. The dress slipped off her body, fell to the floor.

Mom wasn't wearing panties.

Tugging on an ear lobe with my teeth, I ran my fingers on Mom's naked butt cheeks, said, "I love you ass." Clara bent at the waist, dragged the flat of her tongue over Mom's nipples, then, heading for our parents' bedroom, reached for Mom's hand.

I followed, my eyes on Mom's ass, thought I saw an extra wiggle there.

In the bedroom Clara said, "Why don't you two sit and enjoy," and then gyrated – her undulating body was spectacular – through a private strip show. When she was done I, not possessing Clara's grace, stood, ripped my clothes off, and said, "So Mom, what do you think? Did the kiddies grow up well?"

Mom looked us over (maybe I was seeing what I wanted to see, but I swear her eyes lingered on my erection), and said, "They did, two handsome adorable children." .

Clara said, "We got good genes. Hey baby brother, Mom's been good, it's time we revealed our secret. Why don't you lie down."

I did, Clara sat next to me, swallowed my dick.

Eyes locked on us, Mom said, "You two are naughty," licked three fingers, ran them in a circle on an areola, moved them to her clit, stroked the red bud, buried them in her sex, rocked her hips, moaned a wanton, "Ohhhhhhhhhhhh."

Clara let me slide from her mouth, said, "We are. Mom now show us your inner slut," cupped the back of Mom's neck and moved her down. Mom, tentatively, licked the crown of my dick, then, with a giggle, wrapped her lips on it. Applying gentle pressure Clara moved her half-way where Mom stopped, and cheeks concave, moved back to focus on sucking and licking the head.

I reached for Mom's clit, found it in the thick bush of her auburn pussy hair, worked it with my thumb, pushed a crooked pinkie inside her and ran it along the top of her vagina. Mom undulated, shuddered, and shook; her body was steaming hot, dripping wet, and preternaturally responsive.

Clara slid to the floor, moved my hand from Mom's snatch, replaced it with her mouth.

I know how distracting Clara's mouth can be and Mom soon lifted her head from my dick, covered Clara's head with her hands, humped her face, chortling her pleasure until Clara pulled away and said, "Mom, you're going to love my brother's cock in your pussy."

Mom glanced at my face, stared at my hard dick, and, a wide smile growing on her face, said, "Well son, I guess we're going to break all the rules," then got on her knees and straddled me. Clara ran my cock along Mom's sex, positioned it at the entrance to her pussy. I grabbed Mom by the waist and jerked my hips up, spearing deep inside her, then pulled her back down until our conjoined bodies bounced on the mattress, driving my dick deeper inside her. Mom moaned, "Oh fuck yeah," and ground her hips on me, trapping her clit on my pubic bone.

Clara said, "God you two are hot. Mom tell me, how does Steven's dick compare to Dad's?"

Mom turned to look at Clara, smiled serenely, moved her legs forward and, supporting herself on her hands, leaned back over my legs and, taking her time, lifted her ass up and back until only my cock-head remained inside her, paused, and said, "He's longer, thicker, harder, hotter. Oh honey, y'know, from now on you're going to have to share him with Mommy," then moved down my dick until my balls were nestled to her pussy lips.

Clara said, "Don't worry, a good daughter always shares," lay her head on my stomach, raked Mom's clit with her tongue, then said, "Fuck him Mom, fuck him."

Mom rose on her knees, collapsed, impaling herself on me in a single sharp motion, paused. Clara captured her clit between her lips and sucked. Mom reached down, pressed Clara's head to her sex, groaned, "Ohhhhhhh myyyyyyy fuckinggggggg goddddddddd, ohhh... ohhh... ohhh... suck my clit, oh fuck," moved back up, squeezed her cunt on my dick-head, plunged back down, paused to let Clara lash her clit.

We did this again and again until, body flush and shiny with sweat, Mom leaned forward and ground her clit into my pubic bone. I pushed back into her, twisted and tugged her nipples, and, cunt juice pouring from her, Mom said, "I can't believe I'm fucking my children," sighed, "Ahhhhhhhhhh... fffuuucccckkkkkk... I'mmmmm... commmmming," quivered and quaked, bucked and squealed, then collapsed atop me, wiggling her way through her orgasm, my hard cock pulsating in her wet pussy. When she came to rest she slumped off me, lay her head on my shoulder, and we watched Clara scramble to the foot of the bed, take my dick in her mouth, feast on the incestual cocktail. I looked at Mom. The sparkle in her eyes left no doubt: this was our new normal.

Mom licked her lips and I said, "You want some, go get some."

Saying, "Good idea," her orgasm-ravaged body a bit sluggish, Mom shimmied to the foot of the bed, took hold of my shaft, swallowed me, continuing forward until I reached the back of her mouth, then moved back up, bathed the shaft with her tongue, kissed the head, and rubbed my cock on Clara's breasts, smearing pre-cum on her nipples. Clara got on her knees, said, "My turn," straddled me, but Mom yanked my dick away and said, "I need to know, how long have you two been balling each other?"

Her voice calm Clara said, "Remember Steven's eighteenth birthday? I had a dance recital that night and Steven was kind enough to come instead of going out with friends. I figured I owed him one so I invited him to the after-party. It got pretty wild; he, I, and a few others ended up in the sack together."

Mom said, "It appears I have some serious catching up to do," and set my dick on Clara's sex. Clara wrapped her vaginal lips on the crown, squeezed, moved half-way down, rotated her hips, my dick sliding around her warm wet sex, and moved back up. My dick slipped from her sex and flipped forward, smacking against my stomach with a wet sticky sound, and Clara, with a dancer's precision, lowered her hips and slid her pussy slit the length of my dick, coating it with her wetness, then raised herself and said, "Go ahead Mom, feed your inner slut."

Mom licked my dick, savoring the pre-cum cunt-juice cocktail, and Clara rotated her hips forward and said, "Now me." Mom slithered her tongue on Clara's swollen pussy lips, twirled it on Clara's clit, then placed my dick on Clara's cunt and said, "Fuck your brother, I want to watch you fuck your brother."

Her dark red hair cascading down her back, Clara took me inside her, worked it with her cunt muscles, her juice dripped down my body, coated my scrotum. Mom, by now fully integrated into our game, scooted behind Clara and through my sister's legs I watched her lick my balls with the flat of her tongue, take each testicle into her mouth, nurse on it, then run her tongue up the cleft of Clara's butt to lick her asshole.

Clara pulled Mom's head to her chest; Mom sucked with a hungry intensity, moved from breast to breast, moaned into the firm tit flesh.

Our fuck grew more intense; I jerked my hips into Clara, she drove herself into me; Mom spit out Clara's breast and said, "Do you want your brother to fuck you harder."

Reaching behind herself, Clara took my balls in her hand, fondled and rolled them, said, "Fuck yes, more, fuck me, more, uhhhhmmmm... fuck yes, harder."

I rammed my hips into Clara, she rammed her hips into me, and Mom said, "Do you enjoy your in-home fuck toy."

"Yyyeeesssssss..., fuck, more Steven, fuck me more."

Personally, I thought Clara was my fuck-toy, but this did not seem the time to argue the point.

Wrapping, then twisting and turning her fingers on the base of my dick Mom said, "Your baby-brother's cock is swelling Clara, he's gonna come, fill your pussy full of cum. Is that what you want?"

Bucking wildly, clenching her cunt on me with the power of a heavy machine gun, Clara said, "Fuck yes, fill me fuckin' up, Steven fuck me, fuck me, fuck me."

My sister's tight twat, my Mom's determined fingers, the sight of these two beauties, my balls tightened, retracted, and with a final grunt I jammed my hips into my sister, lifted her in the air, pumped sticky white seed into her sex. Giving as good as she got, Clara drove me back down into the mattress; we bounced, my cock twisted around inside her, she ground her clit on my body, said, "Fuck yeah," and her scream split the air. In the midst of orgasmic her body jiggered and joggered, shook and shaked, until, at is boneless, she melted into me, writhing in pleasure on my chest as her orgasm ran its mind-bending course.

When my sister flopped onto the bed next to me Mom spread her pussy lips with two fingers, opened the cunt-hole, drank the thick gooey liquid that flowed out.
​

* * * * *​

Mom, her body nestled between us, said, "I just fucked my children; it was fricking amazing."

Clara said, "As I said, with the right mix a threesome is a blast."

Mom said, "I feel sorry for my friends."

I was confused.

"Why?"

"Because Steven, as much as you two will be fucking me, there'll be a lot less for them."​