Incest/Taboo Tied Mom

After hour of lovemaking, we started winding up the parade during "Dennis the Menace" and culminated our lust while listening to "Leave It To Beaver". We were incapable of having a quickie. Mom sometimes visited my room in the wee hours of the morning but even those occasions rarely consumed less than two hours. The only thing we managed in a short period of time was our regular weekend blowjob. Mom knew I couldn't last through a weekend so she looked after me. But even that took half an hour. We simply couldn't be together without squeezing every ounce of enjoyment from one another. I think that's why we were initially attracted to each other. It wasn't a mother-son thing, it was a recognition of what each other desired. Somehow, we both knew what the other craved.
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On second thought, there is one occasion worth sharing. One afternoon, while Dennis was being a particularly bad brat, Mom started nibbling the condom off my cock. Usually, she let me fuck her mouth with my bare cock before moving on to the grande finale but she had insisted I wear one right from the start that day. So I was surprised when she started chewing it off.

"You want it on your face today?" I huffed.

"Mmm baby. Let me get it off."

"You want it on your face?" I repeated.

"I want your bare cock," Mom panted.

"You got it baby. Peel that sucker off."

Mom nibbled.

"Come on," I urged. "Chew it off."

I was getting hot at the thought of her wanting me to spew all over her face instead of it just happening. I had to admit, I loved the look of my spunk on her face, but when more got on there rather than in her mouth, I pretended it was an accident because I thought she didn't really like it. Yet, now she was begging for it, desperate for me to unload on her pretty face. What a fantastic woman!

Mom finally got the condom off and I tried to plunge it into her mouth to bring myself to the brink so I could unload. Pushing into her throat always got me there, but Mom clamped her lips shut and I skidded over her face. Undeterred, I grabbed my cock and started wanking off, already huffing and puffing at the thought of unloading on her willing face.

"Fill me," Mom gasped.

"So open your mouth," I cried, wanking faster.

"No, fill me," Mom cried, stressing the last word.

"Then open your fucking mouth," I wailed desperately, already feeling the twinge that signaled an impending eruption.

"Fill me, fill ME" Mom shouted.

I looked into her pleading eyes, saw the desperate need there, queried with my own look and found the answer that shocked me but which I knew to the depth of my being was what Mom wanted. I stood up, stumbled toward the couch, turned, and kneeled in front of Mom's upturned pussy, I sank deep within her, burying my whole, bare cock.

One, two, three strokes. I was coming, like never before, truly exploding. I threw back my head and wailed. I was coming, for the first time the way God meant me to come, free and full, oh so full, emptying my seed into my mother, not just cum, but my seed.

What mischief will be born of this day?" I wondered as the last, wrenching gob squeezed past my brutalized tip.

I collapsed between Mom's wide open, tied thighs, and reached back to release her wrists from the side of her ankles. Immediately, Mom threw her arms around me and clasped me tight. We kissed, pulled back to look at each other, and cried.
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On third thought, I guess I should tell you about Mrs. Draper. I've already mentioned that we became more sophisticated in our methods and the equipment we used. I didn't tell you that Mrs. Draper never charged me a cent for any of it. She was, however, curious. At first she hinted, and later outright asked, to meet my sexy girlfriend. Mrs. Draper always asked how she liked the things she provided me and I sensed she had more than a passing interest. I had a growing sense that Mrs. Draper was bi, even if she didn't know or admit it. That would figure. The ones that were so attractive to men preferred women.

Anyway, the day came when I cockily answered the door even though Mom was wrapped up in rope in the middle of the living room floor, kneeling on a sheet and watching "Dennis the Menace". I had done this once before to receive a package from UPS. Mom had almost had a fit but afterward she was so excited by the thought we could have been discovered. So this time, Mom protested, but not too vigorously. She was more playing the expected role in our game.

"Mrs. Draper," I almost shouted, both surprised and wanting Mom to know this was an order of magnitude beyond the UPS guy on the excitement scale.

"How many times have I told you to call me Lisa?"

"I don't know. I guess I just like calling you Mrs. Draper."

"Do you have a thing for older women, Heck?" she teased.

I blushed. I was bare-chested and bare-footed, having answered the door wearing only my pants since I was expecting a UPS guy. But that wasn't why I was blushing. Mrs. Draper had no idea how close to the truth she was. I shook my head.

"Well, if you don't let me meet Samantha, I'll find her and tell her about your secret fantasy."

First of all, Samantha was the name I had divulged under pressure as the name of my supposed girlfriend. Secondly, Samantha was my Mom's middle name. There was a muffled gasp from the living room. Mrs. Draper tried to look beyond the door but couldn't see past me.

"I thought it was just your Dad that was out of town. Did your mother go to?"

Caught off guard, I stumbled for an answer. "Well, um, uh, actually she..."

Mrs. Draper caught me completely by surprise when she bolted past me.

"Samantha, it's so nice to finally meet you. Heck has told me so much...What the fuck?"

I turned around. Mrs. Draper was standing behind me in the entranceway, looking into the living room, in utter shock. I turned and quickly caught up to her. Mom was craning her neck to the side, mirroring the look on Mrs. Draper's face but her hips were churning on the vibrator tied up against her yearning pussy. We'd been at it for hours and Mom was incapable of stopping.

"Uh, Lisa, meet Samantha. Samantha, Lisa," I mumbled, inanely.

Mrs. Draper took a step toward Mom. I put my hand on her arm to restrain her and she paused but then leaned forward and I let her go. She took three more steps and stopped in front of Mom.

"I don't believe this."

"Lisa, you can't say anything, to anyone."

"No, of course not. This is so fantastic, so much better than I ever imagined. You look so wonderful, so sexy, so fucking hot," Mrs. Draper spoke directly to Mom.

Mom looked up at Mrs. Draper, despair at being discovered plainly evident on her face, mixed in with the lust to which she would soon succumb.

"Don't worry, honey. My lips are sealed, unless you want them open, for you."

A new kind of shock washed over Mom's face, then gave way to understanding, but not acceptance.

"Wait. I'll be right back."

Mrs. Draper ran into the kitchen. I followed her. She was bent over the sink, the tap already on, leaning in, scrubbing her face.

"Get me a towel," she cried.

I grabbed a dish towel and handed it to her when she pulled her head out of the sink. Mrs. Draper immediately buried her face in it and rubbed it vigorously all over. She scrubbed so hard I worried that she might hurt herself. Did she not believe what her eyes had seen? Was she trying to scrub her eyes out?

Mrs. Draper stood up and flung the towel at me.

"How do I look?"

I had never seen her without makeup.

"Fine," I answered.

"Fresh-faced?"

"You look very clean. Rosy and fresh," I added.

"Good."

Mrs. Draper rushed out of the kitchen and I followed. She was standing in front of Mom.

"Better?" she asked.

Mom looked up, looking as perplexed as I felt.

"Maybe this will make it better," Mrs. Draper said.

With that, she grabbed the top of her head, fingers sinking into her perfectly coiffed bleached-blonde hair, and tore it off.

My mouth dropped open, and so did Mom's.

Under the wig, Mrs. Draper's real dark brown hair was cut in a boyish cut but it looked cute and sexy on her. Without the bleach-blonded wig and overly thick make-up, Lisa looked like one hell of a sexy thirty-something MILF, except she wasn't a mother.

"Better?"

Mom nodded.

Mrs. Draper lifted her right foot and loosened the strap holding her shoe on, peeled it off, and let it drop on the rug, then did the same with the left. In no hurry, she reached under her skirt and dragged her panties down over her nice legs. She flung them at me without looking to see where they landed. I caught them and watched as Mrs. Draper bent her knees and slowly lowered herself, feet planted on the outside of Mom's thighs, until her tummy was pressed to Mom's and she captured the part of the vibrator that was protruding beyond Mom's own pussy. They both moaned loudly together and I realized that I hadn't shut the front door. I turned away to close it.

When I returned, Mrs. Draper's hips were moving with Mom. She had unzipped the back of her dress and was pulling it over her head. When she threw it away, her breasts bounced on her chest before she moved closer to let them caress Mom's tits. They weren't bad, not bad at all.

I shucked my pants. Having not bothered to put underwear on to answer the door, my cock sprang out, long and hard. I walked close to them, slowly stroking my cock. Mrs. Draper looked at me, smiled, and opened her mouth.

"It's about time, Heck."

I wanted to fill her face but I declined, simply shaking my head. Mrs. Draper understood. She turned back to Mom and kissed her. This was their moment, and mine to, but to share. They were the central actors in this scene; my time would come later and I knew it would be better if I waited. That was, after all, the underlying them of all the sex between Mom and me. I stroked my cock slowly and got off on the expressions on Mom and Mrs. Draper's faces.

It took longer than I thought but eventually Mrs. Draper turned looked at me again, this time with an enormously satisfied grin on her face. Mom looked at me too with much the same look. They both opened their mouths at the same time. What a choice, I mean, what a fucking choice.

I sank it into Mom's mouth first. Loyalty, you might ask? Perhaps, but at the time I thought I wanted Mrs. Draper to see how it was properly done. I wanted her to see how Mom took it deep, really deep, on the first thrust.

Mrs. Draper was only the second woman to give me a blowjob. She learned fast and it was hard not to come even with all the training I had received holding off from fucking Mom while she was tied up, spread and available, for hours. Dipping my cock first through one warm and wet set of tonsils only to plunged it deep into another waiting mouth, then back, and switching again, over and over. I mean, who would ever want that to stop? Not me. I was proud of how long I lasted.

Man, to come all over two eager faces. What a fucking rush. Dad was gone for three days. Three glorious days during which Mrs. Draper was at our house almost the whole time. She looked so good I could never understand why she wore all that make-up and that stupid bleached-blond wig. To see her naked, standing naturally, without a push-up bra or a stretchy tank-top artificially lifting her wonderful breasts. She had a really nice set of slopey hangers, I mean, the way the slung down and then jutted out with those longish nipples. Fucking fantastic.

Almost as good as Mom's.

I was a spoiled boy, a very spoiled boy, for years.
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Yes, years. But it all had to come to an end. For a time, we thought Mom was pregnant but she miscarried. One day, she came home with the news. She was sick, very sick. The first night Dad was out of town, she and I and Mrs. Draper watched old movies in the living room in the flickering light of dozens of candles. We didn't have sex but we cuddled a lot and cried too.

After Mom was gone, Mrs. Draper stopped coming. Not right away, but it wasn't the same with just the two of us. We needed Mom and she wasn't there no matter how much we told each other she was. We drifted apart.

Dad started a relationship with one of the women he knew from work shortly after Mom was gone. I knew in my heart that it had started long before Mom became sick and I hated him for it. I wasn't that sad when he got sick too. Well, at first I wasn't but he was my Dad after all and he had been a great one when I was young. I imagine he hadn't been a bad husband to Mom either, back in the day, but they grew out of love. They were just comfortable together.

So I ended up alone in the house I was raised in, a house full of memories, too many memories. I put the house up for sale and started looking for another place to live but soon came to the realization that I needed to move away, far away.

I was more than surprised when I received the call.

"Samantha?"

"Yes, didn't your mother tell you about me?"

"Um, Dad mentioned that Mom had a half-sister that Mom didn't talk about."

"That's rich. Actually, it was your father didn't like to talk about me."

"I don't get it."

"Your father wasn't comfortable with me around."

"I see."

"No, you don't. Look, my husband and I just moved into the area and I'd like to get to know you. I think Sam would like it."

"You mean Lilly."

"No, I mean Sam. She hated her first name but your father insisted on using it."

"Whatever. Look Samantha, I'm moving so I don't think...," I paused unintentionally as the fact that Mom's half-sister's name was the same as Mom's middle name.

"Your mother sent me some things I think you should have," Samantha took advantage of the pause.

"What things?"

"I can't tell you over the phone. They're...personal. I can't keep them and I don't think your mother would want them destroyed. I think they're for you. I don't know why she sent them to me."

"Okay. Tomorrow at ten, but I've got to be somewhere for 10:30."

"That's fine. I don't want to impose. I know you don't know me. I mean, I'd love to get to know you, for Sam's sake, but I understand, really I do. I'll just drop these things off and be gone."

She hung up.

I felt bad. I didn't have to be such a prick but she caught me by surprise. I remember Mom mentioning her a couple of times, accidentally, and then trying to cover up. Once, she had become really flustered after I had picked up an old picture of Gramps and Mom and this little girl, way younger than Mom. I asked her who it was but Mom just turned and walked away from me. That's when Dad had said it was Mom's half-sister and I shouldn't ask Mom about her. So what Samantha said didn't square up with my memory. I decided not to get rid of her so quickly. I wanted to find out more about her because she was a part of Mom that I didn't know anything about.
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"Samantha?"

Oh my God, this was going to be way harder than I thought. My eyes teared up. Samantha, this strange woman standing in the doorway that looked the spitting image of Mom, at least, in pictures of her when I was about nine or ten years old. She was in her thirties, maybe thirty-five or six, and a dead ringer for Mom. She stretched out her hand and laid it on my arm.

"I'm sorry, Heck. I should have warned you."

I turned away and shuffled into the house. I meant to go into the kitchen, to keep things sterile and formal, but I sat on the couch instead. Samantha followed me after closing the door and sat beside me, leaving almost enough room for another person to sit between us. She angled toward me and smoothed her skirt over her knees. Nice knees, held tight together. Very proper. I looked up, noticing that she was very nicely dressed, quite conservative, with make-up tastefully applied on her very pretty face.

"It's just that you..."

"I know."

"You could be twins. How could half-sister's look so much alike?"

"Well, we had the same father?"

"The same father? Oh, I thought, I don't know why, but I always thought it was the same mother and different fathers."

An odd expression came over Samantha's face. "No," was all she said.

I probed, "Are you sure?"

She smiled. "Yes, Heck, I'm sure. We definitely had different mothers."

I nodded, dumbly, staring at her. I just couldn't take my eyes off her. It was as if I was sitting with Mom before I really knew her.

"Well anyway, Heck, I've brought these things." Samantha pulled the straps of a cloth bag off her shoulder and pulled them over her arm. She put the bag on the couch between us. "I know you really want me to be on my way, so..."

I put my hand out and caught her by the wrist. It was like getting an electric shock and I quickly released her arm.

"No, uh, stay. I was rude to you on the phone. I'm sorry. Let me make you some tea, or no, let's have a drink."

"I don't drink."

"Tea then. I'll make us some tea."

"I don't know. I really should be going. I don't think it's a good idea for me to stay."

"Please. You said Mom wanted us to get together. Stay, for her sake at least."

"Okay, but not for long."

I forgot about the offer to make tea and grabbed the bag. I dug into it. It was full of DVD's and USB memory sticks.

"What's all this?"

"Oh, I don't think we should, I mean, I think you should wait until I'm gone to..."

I took a DVD to the player and slid it in. Samantha got up and started for the door.

"Samantha!"

She turned and looked at me.

"You've watched these?"

Samantha nodded, hesitantly.

"Stay and watch it with me. I don't think I can do it alone."

"I don't think I can. I shouldn't."

"Please."

I went to her and grabbed her arm. Backing up, I tugged Mom's half-sister back to the couch and sat down, pulling her with me. I put the bag on the floor and shifted closer to her, found the remote, and turned the TV on.

Mom was looking up at the camera. She stepped back, smiling. She looked lovely in one of her best June Cleaver outfits. She turned her back to the camera, which must have been mounted in the corner above Dad's chair. I looked but didn't seen anything there. I looked back at the TV. Mom was spreading a sheet on the floor. The veins in my neck bulged and I became intensely aware of Samantha sitting next to me. What the hell had Mom done?

Mom disappeared but soon returned. She stood on a stool and put a rope through the ring on the ceiling, the one I was always amazed that Dad never noticed. When the loop was through, Mom stepped off the stool and put it aside. She turned on the TV. I couldn't see what was on but soon realized by the sound it was "The Walton's". Mom connected the rope to the hand bracelets, raised her arms, and kicked the rope down until she could step on it, pinching it to the rug, then used her other foot to wind the rope around her leg.

Mom hung from the rope for about five minutes. Samantha and I watched, sitting stone still, neither of us looking at the other. Mom began squirming and I realized that she had something under her skirt. A memory flashed into my mind, a memory of coming home to find Mom, dressed in this very June Cleaver outfit, the big orange dildo sucked all the way inside her. She had been wild with lust after hours of waiting and preparing herself for me.

In another five minutes the sound on the TV abruptly changed and I realized that the movie had been edited. The single DVD must contain a whole day of fun enjoyed by me and Mom. I lifted an edge of the cloth bag on the couch looked inside. There must be fifty DVDs and a dozen memory sticks in there, years of incestual sex that Mom had sent to her half-sister. Why? Why had she given us away when nobody knew except for Mrs. Draper. Why?

I looked at Mom's sister. Although she must have watched these DVDs, perhaps many times, she was mesmerized by the action on the screen. I didn't know why Mom had send the DVDs to her sister but I was beginning to understand why Samantha had brought them here. I stretched to the far end of the couch and leaned over to open the cupboard door of the small end table where Mom and I had brazenly stashed some of our equipment, right under Dad's nose. I retrieved a set of bracelets and sat back.

For a moment, I watched the video but then slid my left hand sideways until my fingers brushed Samantha's. She didn't draw hers away so I pushed my hand on top of hers. A few seconds later, I pulled her hand toward me and casually encircled her wrist with the bracelet. Samantha didn't even look at me. I snapped the bracelet closed and let her hand drop onto the couch. A moment later, I got up and moved to sit on the other side of Mom's half-sister.

After snapping the bracelet on Samantha's other hand, I pulled her hands together and laid them on her lap, then returned to the end table cabinet and got a rope. Sitting on the couch again, I threaded the rope through the ring of each bracelet, then calmly stood and did the same for the swivel ring on the ceiling. Samantha ignored me completely.

Gently, I pulled on the rope. Samantha's hands slowly lifted from her lap and rose in front of her but she kept her gaze studiously fixed on the TV. I tugged and Samantha rose from the couch until she was standing before me. I pulled on the rope and Samantha's hands lifted, up to her shoulders, then to her head and well over.

Holding the rope in one hand, I retrieved the ankle bracelets from the cabinet and snapped them onto Samantha's legs, then threaded the rope through the ring on each and tied her legs off to the legs on opposite ends of the couch.

I stepped in behind Samantha and put my hands on her hips, then slid them up the sides of her blouse, following the contours of her waist. I whispered in her ear.

"Would you like a few slices of orange?"

Samantha sucked in her breath in a sharp hiss and, for the first time since the DVD had started playing, acknowledged my presence.

"Yes," she husked.

I quietly withdrew to the kitchen and busied myself making a bowl of sliced oranges. When I returned, I saw that Samantha's couldn't bring her feet together but was able to rub her thighs together. I smiled and enjoyed the tingling feeling in my groin. It had been a long time since I had been blessed by that feeling.

I stood behind Samantha and fed her several slices of orange, smoothing her throat after pushing one into her mouth because I knew she would have seen me do it with Mom. When the oranges were gone, I put the bowl down and returned to stand behind Samantha. Pressing lightly against the back of her skirt, I whispered in her ear.

"What color are your panties?"

Before she could answer, I spoke again.

"No? You're not going to tell me?"

Samantha shook her head. I visited the cabinet again and returned to put a collar around her neck.

"Tell me," I hissed.

Samantha shook her head again.

I smiled. She looked like Mom, but she wasn't, and she played the game differently. This was going to be a lot of fun. I pulled down on the rope at the back of the collar and tied it off around her waist. Samantha's head was drawn back but not so much she couldn't watch the TV. I grasped her throat with one hand and brushed the fingertips of the other across her lips.

"Tell me."

She shook her head.

"Don't make me find out for myself," I warned.

Samantha didn't react so I dropped my hands to her hips, then slid them lower, along the outside of her thighs. Stooping, I found the hem of her skirt and pulled it up to mid-thigh level and then straightened up. As I did, I slipped my hands underneath her skirt and followed the inside of Samantha's thighs up to her panties.

Fingertips lightly poised on the front of Samantha's panties, I whispered in her ear, "Yellow. You're wearing yellow panties, my favorite."

Samantha sighed and, whether she meant to or not, let her mound pout onto my welcoming fingers. I was right of course. Her skirt was brown and I knew that Mom always wore yellow panties when she wore a brown skirt.

"If you say please, I'll take them off and save them as a souvenir."

"Please," Samantha croaked.

I tickled the gusset, discovered the groove and teased it vertically with one finger while rubbing across it with another. Pinching the dampish material between my fingers, I pushed Samantha's panties down her legs and left them stretched across the top of her thighs. My plans for teasing her for hours were disintegrating. There was something about her that made me so horny I wanted to fuck her right away.

I yanked my hands from under her skirt and quickly undid my belt and shoved my pants and shorts down to my knees. Lifting the back of Samantha's skirt, I pushed my hard cock between her legs, under her ass and above the stretched panties until my rod was pressing along the bottom of her pussy.

"Did you come here thinking I would fuck you, Auntie?"

Samantha moaned. She was already ready.

"You didn't really think I'd fuck my mother's sister, did you?"

I grabbed the front of Samantha's blouse and ripped it apart, then tore off her bra. I grabbed her tits, not bothering to be the gentle, patient lover she would have seen in the DVDs. I squeezed her tits and pinched her nipples roughly.

"I might film you and show it to your husband. Do you still want to fuck your sister's son?" I growled.

In answer, Samantha's legs weakened and she slumped onto my cock and her hips began moving back and forth on it. I peered over her shoulder. "Leave It To Beaver" was just starting on the DVD and Mom and I were getting it on.

I was lost. I tipped my cock upward and slid into Mom's half-sister from behind. I don't know why you sent those DVDs to her, Mom, but I'm glad you did.

I came to my senses then and managed to do Samantha slowly, gradually building up until the end of the show was near. That's when Samantha lost all the strength in her legs and so did I. I let the rope go slack and fell to my knees behind Samantha, keeping my cock fully ensconced in her pussy. We finished with a rousing, pounding grande finale. I didn't give a second thought to protection. I filled her with a stockpile of sperm built up from almost a year's abstinence. If she got pregnant, she would just have to pass it off as her husband's.

For the next twenty minutes, I leaned back, taking Samantha's weight upon me. My cock softened a bit but didn't slip out because her love muscle never stopped moving. Whenever I thought she was done, I would be jolted by a sudden squeeze, or a slow-building pressure grinder along the full length of my cock. I began hardening and moved my hands up so I could strum her nipples. Soon, I took them between thumb and forefinger and teased her by tugging them off her chest. Upon her first whimper, I bulged my cock inside her but didn't offer a full-length thrust until she uttered her first real moan. It was a much longer, restrained fuck but no less intense.

After that, I took Samantha upstairs and scrubbed her gently in the shower. While she dressed, having picked one of Mom's blouses to replace the one I destroyed, I got the urge again and took her on Mom's bed. It was a long and tender affair, one that Samantha didn't want to end, probably because she knew we were making love in Mom's bed.

"Next time, Auntie," I murmured during the afterglow, "I'll make you wait for hours before we do it. I promise."

"I have a confession to make," Samantha said. "You've made a mistake. I'm not your mother's half-sister."

I pulled my head back and fixed her with a steady stare.

"You said you were."

"No, you said I was. You said your father told you your mother had a half-sister. I simply didn't correct you."

"Is this some kind of sick joke?" I demanded angrily, feeling the wonderful glow from our beautiful afternoon slipping away. "You just thought you'd pretend to be my mother's sister after you got hold of those DVDs, to see what incest might be like?"

"No. Well, yes, in a way I wanted to see what incest was like."

"Well, you still don't know, you stupid bitch. You have to do it with a relative to know what it's like."

"I know. Don't be angry, Heck."

"Why the hell shouldn't I be angry. You can't just...you..., wait a minute, how did you get those DVDs?"

"My mother gave them to me."

"Your mother? Your mother? Who..., is your mother my mom's half-sister?"

"No, Heck."

"Then how did she get them? Why would Mom send them to her? Was she a close friend?"

"No Heck. Slow the fuck down. Listen, they were my mother's, and she sent them to me before she died."

I shook my head. What the hell was she saying?

Samantha's eyes softened and she reached out to touch her hand to the side of my face. Confusion reigned within my head and I felt my anger toward her dissipating.

"I'm not your mother's half-sister, Heck. I'm yours."

"What?"

"Your mother was my mother, when she was much younger."

"But Mom was never married before. She and Dad met in high school. Mom couldn't have had a baby with another boy. Dad would never..."

"She didn't, Heck, but she did have a baby, and the father wasn't another boy, he was your grandfather."

"Are you trying to say that Mom had her father's baby?"

"Yes, Heck, that's exactly what I'm saying. My father was your grandfather, and my Mom was your Mom."

I collapsed back on the bed and threw my arm across my eyes.

"I don't believe it."

"You know it's true," Samantha spoke gently, climbing over me until she was lying on top. "Make love to me again, bro," she laughed. "If you've got anything left."

Holy shit. My mind was reeling so much Samantha had a hell of a time getting me to rise to the challenge.
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So that's how I started another family relationship. Samantha and I took up where Mom and I had left off. One day, upon Samantha's arrival, I noticed Mrs. Draper washing her car and looking longingly our way. I waved her over.

"That's Mrs. Draper. She's...."

"I know who she is, Heck."

"Oh, of course."

Lisa followed us into the house. As soon as we were inside, she turned to face Lisa with cocked hip and a sultry smile on her face. The wig came off and was thrown aside. We all laughed.

Hours later, Lisa and Samantha were lying on the carpet, face to face, their bodies wrapped in saran wrap to keep them stuck together. They could barely move but did so continually, both of them working the double-ended dildo between them. I rolled them over until Mrs. Draper was on top and straddled her ass, about the only part that wasn't covered in saran wrap. I pulled the butt plug out and showed it to Samantha. Her eyes widened when she saw it but not as much as when she heard what I said as I sank my cock into Lisa's ass.

"It's your turn next."​