Chez Fiona Ch. 05

I fell asleep right away, and awoke in the morning, alone. When I got up and began to get dressed, I felt something on my backside—a bit of an itch. When I scratched, it felt a little crusty, and tasting my fingers, it felt like cum. So apparently Harold had come home horny, and masturbated against my backside. I could deal with that sort of affection from my husband.

When I went downstairs, the house was quiet, but the kitchen, I was happy to see, was spotless; my sons had obviously felt very grateful. It was a relief, because I had so much to do today—all the preparations for Nancy's birthday party that night. I also had a lot to think about. I was enjoying everything that I was doing: screwing my sons, my neighbour across the street, encouraging my husband's lust for our daughter. Yes, I loved all of it. But it was so much the opposite of what a mother should be doing. I tried to push the thoughts out of my mind as I went about preparing the cake for Nancy. Eggs, flour, sugar—

Shit. No sugar. I went and got my keys, preparing to drive down to the supermarket. But Olivia would have sugar—I could just run across the street. And then I could tell her all about last night.

I went across and knocked on her door. She opened it, wearing some sweaty, tight workout clothes. I smiled at the remembrance of her naked body. "Sugar," I said, holding up a measuring cup.

She smiled and let me in.

"Stay for some tea?"

"I'd love some."

We sat down at the table, and chatted for a bit about our busy schedules.

"Wow, I can't believe Nancy is turning 19."

"Yeah, I know."

"Would I ever love to be that age again," Olivia said, wistfully. "You remember what it was like?"

I nodded.

"I think that's why I love fucking Kim. He makes me feel so young."

"Mmmm."

"Is that what it's like for you and Peter?"

"I don't know if it's the age, exactly. Well, I mean the thought of incest is really hot for me."

"Yeah," she gave me a smile that showed me exactly what she was thinking. "So have you had any further adventures with Peter?"

"Yeah," I sighed, remembering the intensity of the previous evening.

"Mmmm," she gave a little moan.

"And," I continued, "with Ethan."

She gave a little gasp. "Together? Or separately?"

"Together," I said. "In the kitchen. One in my pussy and one up my ass."

"Which one? Which cock did you take up your ass?"

I tried to remember. It was a little fuzzy, but I remembered kissing Ethan straight on, and kissing Peter over my shoulder... "Peter. I took Peter up my ass."

"God, Fiona! I am soooo envious." She said it with just a bit of a mocking voice, but there was a bit of sadness behind the words, too. Honest envy, not necessarily of the sex, but just of my sons.

"Thanks, Olivia. But I still can't shake the part of me that says this is really, really wrong."

"Of course not. That's why you love it. You've been a good mother all your life, and now you need to do something completely sinful."

"Is that it? I like to sin?"

"Well, a sin that feels good."

I sighed. "Isn't that the worst kind of sin, though? A sin that you're committing simply because it's a sin?"

"I don't know, I guess that might be a really bad sin in some sort of Miltonesque version of religion. But incest plays a very important role in nature. Incestuous procreation isolates recessive genes and encourages mutation, which sometimes becomes evolution."

"Is that so?"

"I read it somewhere."

"Well, I'm not about to procreate with my sons. Last thing I want is another kid. I've just got them out of the age where I have to take care of them."

"Yeah, and now you're at the age where you can fuck them. Speaking of which..." she said, standing up. "Your fuck stud number two is home."

I looked up the window and saw Ethan across the street, walking up the driveway.

"Go fuck him," Olivia said.

I could feel myself tingling at the thought. But I needed time off from screwing—my pussy ached just a little. My asshole, too. "Why don't you go fuck him?" I retorted.

"Really?" she asked.

I thought about it for a moment. I didn't have a problem with the idea of Olivia screwing Ethan. I wanted my boys to have a full, rich and lush sex life, and I certainly didn't want to be possessive of them as a lover.

I looked at my watch. "Okay, you've got twenty minutes," I said. "After that, I've got to get baking."

"You're sure you don't mind?"

"Why would I mind? You and him having sex is a lot less perverse that him and me. Right now I don't have any right to be jealous of anyone."

"Mmmm..." Olivia came to me and gave me a long, passionate kiss, "I'm gonna go suck your son's brains out," she whispered into my lips.

"Yum, you go do that. I'll stay here and hope that Kim comes by looking for you," I said, thinking about Olivia's hot asian boytoy. She grinned back at me, and then almost ran to get her shoes and cross the street. I watched through parted curtains as she rang the door. Ethan answered, and they talked for a moment, before she went inside.

I knew I had told her she had twenty minutes, but I couldn't wait. I wanted to know what they were doing, hear their moaning voices. I at least had the awareness to grab a cup of sugar before leaving Olivia's, locking the door behind me as I left. I crossed the street, and slipped around to the backyard, entering through the kitchen door. I could hear them upstairs, so I left the sugar on the counter and tip-toed up the steps, going down the hall to Ethan's room. The door was still mostly open, and I stood at the doorway and looked in: Ethan was lying on his bed, still fully dressed, but by best friend was straddling his face, her own pants removed. Her hands were pressed against the wall, and I could see her face: eyes closed, lips parted in pleasure. Ethan gave a muffled moan from beneath her.

It was a sight that got me juices flowing instantly, but it also made me smile: afterall, it was my sexual experiences with Olivia that kick-started my incest. It also made me a little sad. Olivia's own son, Johnny, had died when he was just six, in an allergenic episode. I didn't know her at the time, our friendship was more recent. But I understood the pain that she had endured, never knowing the man that her son would have grown up to be. She had made it clear how jealous she had been of my incestuous experiences... maybe part of her wished that Johnny had grown up so that she could do the same with him.

I slipped quietly into the room, sat on the bed, and quickly slipped my hand down into Ethan's pants groping his wonderful member. He groaned loudly, moving his head as though struggling to see who was touching him, but unable to move because of the closeness of Olivia's thighs around his face.

"What is it, dear?" Olivia whispered to him.

"It's okay," I whispered to them both. Olivia spun her head around to look at me, a little shocked but with a wicked grin. "Oh Fiona, I'm glad you came over. Did you teach him how to do this?"

"Do what?" I asked.

"East pussy. He's really good!"

"Mmmm, no, he seems to have a natural instinct for it."

"Must be hereditary," Olivia said. "Probably from his mother's side." She gave me a knowing look.

I unfastened Ethan's pants, and took his cock out. It was rigid and throbbing, a bit of precum glistening on the tip. I bent my head down and wrapped my lips around it, tasting his juice, a little tangy and not so salty as his brother's. I wanted to do something special, not for Ethan, but for Olivia. I remembered the incestuous role-playing I had done with my husband just yesterday. Or had it been two days ago? I was having so much sex with so many different people that I was beginning to lose track of little details, like the passage of time.

"You know, Ethan," I began. "Olivia is my very best friend." I climbed onto the bed, straddling Ethan. I spread out my skirt, rubbing my panty-clad pussy against him. I leaned forward, and kissed the small of her back, slipping my tongue down into the cleavage of her ass. "You might even say that she's almost like a sister to me—that's how dear of a friend she is."

I slipped a finger down against her asshole, and then further down, touching where Ethan's open mouth and Olivia's open quim met.

"That would make her your aunt," I continued, feeling Ethan's tongue with my fingertip. "Now that you've fucked you mommy, it's only natural that you fuck your auntie Olivia."

I felt Olivia shudder, and I knew it was from absolute arousal. I slipped up against her backside, pulling off my shirt and my sportsbra in one motion. "And what about you," I whispered in her ear as I pressed my breasts against her back, wrapping my arms around her. And touching her breasts under her sweater, scissoring my fingers around her hard little nipples.

"You like the thought of that?" I whispered. "You want to fuck you dirty little nephew?"

"Oh god yes," she moaned. "I want to take my own flesh and blood inside me," she whispered. "I need him!"

I could tell this was something more for her, more than just fucking the boy across the street. When she turned to look at me, she had tears on her eyes. "It's okay," I cooed to her. "It's okay." I was right, this was about Johnny for her. I wanted this for her so much, I wanted it to make her happy, make her fulfilled.

I stood up, pulling my skirt and panties off, then knelt to suck on Ethan, getting his cock all lubed up with my saliva.

"Do you want your auntie?" I asked Ethan.

"Oh yes..." he moaned.

"Tell her," I instructed him.

"Oh Auntie Olivia, I want you so bad."

"Oh yes, Ethan."

"You have such a delicious pussy, I want to fuck it so bad."

"I think he's ready for you," I said to Olivia, putting my hands on her hips and pulling her down so that she was straddling Ethan's hips. I could see on her face that she was still holding back her tears a bit. I looked down at Ethan, and I could see that he was a little bit confused by the tears, so I put my hand on his, giving him a little squeeze of assurance.

Then I took both hands, and placed them on Ethan's cock, holding it straight up. Olivia put a hand over mine, and slid her hips down. She cried out loudly, almost painfully as she impaled herself on him, and Ethan surged his hips up, powerfully, into her. He moaned loudly, too.

I watched Olivia's face, her mouth wordlessly open, eyes squeezed shut. She was leaning, almost like she was about to feint. I climbed on the bed behind her, wrapping my arms around her. And holding her upright, using my strength to help keep her upright. I kissed her neck, running my tongue up behind her ear.

"Oh, my love," she whispered. I wasn't sure whether it said to me, to Ethan, or to the dead Johnny. I wondered, as I held her there, about the existence of angels, and whether they age. He would be eighteen now... what would he think of his mother's lust for him? Would he understand? Would he be there, with us, somehow slipped into Ethan's body so that he could feel his mother?

Of course, I didn't believe in any of that. But I wanted to, right then. Then Olivia snapped out of it. I felt strength return to her body, consciousness return to her movements. She put her hands on Ethan's shoulders, and ground down against his cock. I slid back a bit, rubbing my pussy against Ethan's thigh.

"That's it, Ethan. Fuck your auntie Olivia, fuck me hard," she moaned, slamming down against him, and pulling up. I cupped his balls gently, then bent to suck on them a bit. I could feel how full and ready to burst they were.

"Oh Ethan, you're such a dirty boy. I'm so glad your mommy let me play with you!"

I slipped a finger into her asshole, and she cocked her head over her shoulder and gave me that wicked grin again. "Whatcha doing back there, sister?" she asked me. I just smiled back and slipped my finger a little deeper. She gasped, tilting her head back.

"Come sit on his face," she said. I loved the idea. I had actually been thinking of doing that for a few minutes, but I didn't want to come between them. Now that I was invited, I scrambled around, straddling Ethan's mouth. He strained up to touch his tongue to my clit, sending shockwaves through my body. I settled down onto him, enjoying the sight of my best friend riding up and down on my son's cock. We looked at each other, and stretched out our arms, intertwining our fingers. Then she leaned forward, her mouth parted for a kiss. So I did the same, and we shared the most delicious, wet, sensuous kiss. I pressed back down against Ethan's face, smothering him in my juicy pussy. Then I broke my hold on Olivia's hands, took her by the wrists, and led her hands to my own. We were all on the verge of cumming—I could tell by the strain of their bodies that Ethan and Olivia were both feeling the exact heights of pleasure that I felt. I reached down to Olivia's hips, slipping my finger over her clit. I came first, still kissing Olivia, feeling the unrestrained desire in her mouth. It was that, more even than my son's lips on my quim that made me cum. I screamed out, breaking the kiss, and the scream seemed to set off Olivia, who rose up, right off of Ethan's cock, falling forward against me, crying out first my name, then Ethan's. Dazed, crushed by Olivia's embrace, I saw that Ethan's cock was suddenly unembedded, so I reached down and grabbed him, hard. Almost as soon as I did, his cum shot out, up his over his own chest, onto the arm I gripped him with. Olivia collapsed down upon Ethan's chest, and I collapsed across her back. Achieving simultaneous orgasm is difficult enough with two people; we had almost achieved it with three. It had been such a strange, wonderful fuck.

After a minute, Ethan's voice came from the bottom of the pile, somewhere near my pussy. "This is, umm... really great. But I can hardly breathe."

Olivia and I rolled off of him, and I ran my tongue over his belly where the cum had transferred. Then I licked up the cum that had landed on my arm, and the reside still on Ethan's stomach. I didn't swallow, but instead kissed Olivia deeply, transferring it into her mouth. She took it, stretched out over Ethan, and kissed him. I saw his eyes goes wide, shocked at having his own ejaculate transferred into his mouth. Then he sat up on the bed. I sat up beside him, kissing him, and he swished that ejaculate back into my mouth. It was almost sexier for my son to give me his cum with a wet kiss, than to give it to me as a load from the cock. It was hot, either way. I left the room abruptly, running downstairs, to grab the bowl of cum I had been accumulating through these last few days. I spit out the cum into the bowl, then ran back upstairs to my two lovers, who were already beginning to get dressed.

"Ummm, auntie Olivia?" Ethan said.

"Yes dear?"

"Can we do this again sometime?"

"If it's alright with your mother," she said, looking at me.

I smiled at the two of them. "Of course it's okay with me."

I took my clothes and went back to my room, tossing them in the hamper, and put on my housecoat.

A while later, after Olivia had left, Ethan came down stairs.

"How are you doing?"

"Oh, great!" he said. "Although that was kinda weird. It looked like she was crying a bit at times."

I nodded. "Sometimes sex isn't about the sex. She had a son who died many years ago. About the same age as you. And I guess my relationship with you and Peter has been a little difficult for her."

Ethan nodded in understanding; I wasn't really sure he understood. I wasn't even sure I understood everything that was going on with my friend. But we were doing what we could to help her, and that was important.

"And now," I said, as Ethan came behind me and put his hands on my hips, "I have to make a birthday cake for your sister, and dinner for about a dozen people. So no distracting me." He dropped his hands. "Take your hot body and go do something useful, like mowing the lawn."

I put together a spicy marinade and a bunch of pieces of chicken, because it was an easy thing to throw together, and then I started the cake. Flour, water, sugar, vanilla extract in one bowl, and then the icing in another: water and egg-whites, mixed together and beat until they were emulsified, and then powdered sugar, and about five tablespoons of cum: Peter's, Ethan's, Harold's. I mixed it all together, and tasted it: just a bit of saltiness, a bit of sweetness, and so smooth and creamy. It wasn't an obvious flavour. It someone told you that there was cum in it, you'd taste it. Otherwise, you might not even notice it. I loved the idea that I was going to feed all this cum to my family, to my children and to their friends. It made me feel so dirty, so appallingly perverse.

I shook my head at the pervert I had become, and went about making some stewed mussels with cilantro, lime and black pepper (a favorite of mine, and a bit of an aphrodisiac, not that anyone in my house needed one—except maybe Nancy).

As I stood infront of the window looking out into the back yard, Ethan came around pushing the lawnmower, his shirt gone, his thin, athletic body glistening with sunscreen. He saw me watching through the window, and stopped, looking at me.

I couldn't believe that this gorgeous young man was one of my lovers. One of my many lovers. It made me so happy to remember the things we had done together. I unbelted my housecoat, and took out one of my breasts, playing with the nipple for him, and then pressing my breast against the glass. His eyes went wide, and he started coming towards the house, but I waved him back; I just wanted to tease him—I had no time for another romp.

I put the cake together and put it into the oven, then heated up the grill and put the chicken on. It would take about an hour to cook everything, which would give me just enough time before the guests started to arrive. I toasted some cornbread that I had in the freezer, and then made a simple greek salad: black olives, tomatoes, red onion, cucumber, and olive oil. I resisted the urge to drench my body in the oil and beckon Ethan to come in.

I still had presents to wrap! I had completely forgotten! I ran upstairs, and pulled things down from the closet: a couple books, some cds, a cellphone, and the school-girl outfit. I was having second thoughts about giving that last one to her. I wasn't sure she was ready. I wasn't sure she was comfortable being an object of sexual desire. I had corrupted my sons. But Nancy was different—Nancy was more innocent than either of them. I had to draw the line somewhere. I feed her the cum-icing, but no schoolgirl outfit. I put it back in the closet, and took the gifts downstairs to wrap.

I went over the guest list in my head. Harold and I, Ethan and Peter and Nancy, of course. Nancy's friends Tanya and Lauren, and Ethan's girlfriend Giselle. I was really curious to meet Giselle: he was the first girlfriend Ethan has had, and my son's skill with cunnilingus suggested to me that his girlfriend must have known a thing or two about it, too. That would be eight of us, though. I ran through the menu in my mind, hoping that I had made enough food.

The cake came out of the oven, and I set it on the rack to cool, and set the icing beside it. I couldn't resist having another taste of it.