A Taste of Incest - Lemonade 02

Author's note: This story is most likely fictional fluff. You should read the prior chapter to grok the fullness. All sex involves humans aged 18+. This A TASTE OF INCEST tale includes incestuous bisexual group fucking, some little harmless watersports, and a token fetish Mustang; if you object to such, stop reading. Views expressed are not necessarily the author's, who has stayed in the Sellwood during a heatwave. Your constructive comments are welcome. If you like this, join the 1%ers and VOTE!

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An Taste of Incest: Limonada con Soda

(Mom & Sis are so fizzy!)

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"Oh fuck, Mom, oh fuck..." I gasped.

My big-titted sister Ronni stood behind me and supported me (after pinching my nipples) while I just blew the biggest orgasmic load of sperm in my sweet short life down the thirsty throat of our hot young mother. Holy fuck! I never expected this!

And we were outside, stark bare-ass naked under the sprinkler in our back yard. Good thing we had a high fence.

"Yes, we'll have to clean up outside more often," Mom said huskily. "But I think we should take this indoors now. And I don't know about you kids, but I could use more lemonade."

This Saturday afternoon was one of the hottest ever known in normally cool and clammy Portland, Oregon. If I had not been close to a meltdown before, I sure was now! Burning sunshine and naked flesh just had me steaming. After our hard, sweaty, grubby work on my Mustang, we NEEDED that cleanup under the backyard spray. But the mutual masturbation? And Mom's great BJ? Holy fuck!

We staggered to the covered back porch. Ronni passed around fresh fluffy towels from the cabinet beside the back door and we dried each other off.

"Lemonade? We're out of Sunkists and kiwis so it'll have to be different," Ronni said. "How about limonada con soda like in Guatemala?"

"That sounds fine," Mom said. "But first..."

She pulled her daughter to her and slipped her fingers into Ronni's wet wildness, and then sensuously licked her dripping fingertips.

"Mmmm, you taste good too, baby. I think we'll be having some more taste-testing, yes? And we won't need to slave and sweat on a hot car to justify it."

Ronni had already tasted Mom's sexual juices. I had not tasted either of them. Not yet. But, soon?

Even soaking under the sprinkler, and quaffing quantities of Ronni's fruity, icy lemonade while we worked, we were still dehydrating in the freakish desert-like heat. What is the best remedy? More lemonade! And with our remaining ingredients, it's limonada con soda, Mayan style.

I watched Mom and Ronni work together to make the next batch: juice the Meyer lemons and Key limes; crush the ice and cane-sugar crystals; gently add fizzy soda.

They stood side-by-side at the kitchen counter, naked, looking almost like cousins if not quite sisters. Almost the same good height, big tits, and bubbly butts; similar shades of stringy dirty-blonde hair; almost the same smooth skin and taut muscles; very similar motions, gestures, and voices.

And their faces? Different eyes and noses; same chins and cheeks; similar lips; variant ears. Ronni had dimples; Mom had freckles. But the resemblance trumped their differences. And lots of exercise kept them equally trim.

How close otherwise? I grew bold. I quietly stepped behind them. I laid my hands around their wide hips, rubbed their firm exercise-flat bellies, moved downwards to their fluffy vulvas, and slowly inserted my fingers into their wet vaginas. Their legs spread and their giggles echoed as I gathered small samples of their nectars.

I tasted Mom. Mmmmm. I tasted Ronni. Again, mmmmm. Very close, yes.

Mom gently slapped my hand and pushed me back. "Enough for now. More later. It's time to rehydrate. Drink up!"

Ronni stood the icy pitcher and clean tall glasses on a bamboo cabaret tray. "C'mon, guys." Hips swaying, she led the way out to the wide swing on the covered back porch.

I somehow ended up sitting between their naked bodies. Our hands tended to wander, to palpate, to feel. My hands tended to explore their beautiful breasts. Their hands tended to stroke my crotch cobra, which tended to grow and stiffen. Limonada tended to get spilled in the most inopportune places, and needed to be licked off, of course. Which is how I found myself sucking Mom's puffy nipples and fluffy areolas while Ronni cleaned my balls and cock with her twirly tongue.

And limonada was splashed a little further, a little more energetically and deliberately and laughingly. Which is how we ended up together in the master bedroom's big ensuite shower, washing off remaining stickiness.

Washing carefully, yes. And peeing out all that lemonade. Ronni pressed against me in the shower, squishing our bladders together.

"Uh, just a minute, I need to..."

"Oh, you don't have to leave, to go. Just cut loose right here."

Mom pushed beside us. "Oh yes, good idea. Just like this..."

She threw her arms around my neck, bent her knees slightly, and relaxed. Her pale yellow current streamed onto my foot and washed away in the brisk shower spray. She moaned and held me tighter. Ronni followed her lead and similarly drained, sighing loudly as her golden flow washed my other foot.

I thought, I might as well get with the program, or go with the flow, or whatever. I aimed my cock at the drain and started to syphon my python, but demanding hands reached from each side and changed my aim. My sturdy stream was flicked across their legs and our feet.

"Hey, that's pretty pervy," I complained.

"It's a traditional treatment for athlete's foot," Mom said. "Think of this as preventative medicine. We don't need any fungus among us."

We all drained well and thoroughly, and rinsed and washed each other again, being particular with the sensitive bits. Is that clean yet? Lick it and find out!

-

I have never thought of myself as a perv. Sure, I always admired my mom and sis. They look so hot! But no obsessions, no. I have really had only five loves in my life for as long as I can remember: Suzi-Q; Mom; Ronni; my Mustang; and plate tectonics. Not necessarily in that order on any given day.

Geology is about the greatest thing in the world - fuck, it IS the world, the very planet we live on. And this world is not solid, no. The Pacific coast is not a unified chunk of firm continental land. The whole Northwest USA is build from terrenes, little mini-continents that floated into place over millions of years. Everything on this edge of the North American Plate used to be in the South Pacific. Fiji to Astoria is a long fucking way.

My Mustang... well, what can I say? It is magic - magic in a hard-working, high-maintenance, mechanical way. It helps define me.

Women are magic, too, but a weird black-magic. I lost Suzi-Q to a guy with a 'Vette so maybe she wasn't worth loving anyway - but still, I loved her. Not like I loved my mom and sis, of course. Not yet, anyway. Or not before now.

I had never thought before about fucking my mom and sis. Well, not much, really. But today changed everything.

Just so you know: Mom is pretty young. Dad married her when she was only a girl. She was fifteen when Ronni was born, and sixteen when I popped out. Mom is just thirty-five now, and a real MILF. Envisage her like that, okay?

-

We dried each other quite well, especially our meaty protuberances and seams. Protrusions that could stiffen during such treatment, did so, and were kissed, and dried again, and wetted again, and so on, ad infinitum.

Sounds of the outside world leaked through the open bathroom windows. Traffic rattled over the wide Willamette River on the nearby ancient Sellwood Bridge. A faint siren squalled on the far shore. Music rolled from the carousel down on the riverbank, and from illegally-booming speakers in passing cars. Dogs barked in the distance.

We ignored the Sellwood neighborhood's ambient noise and the hum of our house fans. Mom took our hands and led us out into the master bedroom.

Mom shoved me down on the king bed. "I've been waiting for this for a long, long time," she rasped. "My sex life is so dead since your dad left, my vagina was declared a historical monument. But I can't wait any longer. The time has come! And so will I!"

Mom climbed on top of me and straddled my hips. We were all HOT, and not just from the ambient thermal overload. Warning thoughts raced through my bewitched big brain. Mom! No! Sis! No! It's wrong! WRONG! But the little brain in my little head, even more bewitched, won out. Naked women! Fuck them! FUCK YES! So, when Mom lowered her wet, willing vertical smile onto my reluctant rod... well, I was not so reluctant as to resist.

"Ah!" said Mom as she impaled herself deeply on me.

"Oh!" said I as I fully penetrated my parental portal.

"Uh!" said Ronni as she climbed atop my flushed face.

Then, sounds were muffled by knees against my ears.

"Oh yes, baby!" Mom moaned. Oh yes, I heard that!

I felt Ronni bend forward; my tongue eagerly attacked her clit. And Mom leaned into Ronni to kiss her daughter like a lover. Her mouth; her neck, her breasts... oh yes; I felt them move together while Mom rolled on my groin and Ronni wriggled on my face.

By now, I was no longer putting words together. I remember... impressions. Mom's hot cunt sliding up and down and around my engorged cock. Ronni's savory clitoris and vagina cresting my sensitive tongue. Hands on my body, resting, pushing, rubbing, tweaking my nipples, brushing my pubes. Ahh...

The frantic bodies atop me stiffened, then shook. Ronni's happy cunt gushed on my face as she screamed into our mother's mouth. Mom pushed hard, her groin tight to mine, and yelled back down her daughter's throat.

And I fell over the edge.

I came. I came like gushers. I came like a firehose, like a Plinian eruption, into my very mother's womb, as I had cum into her mouth not long before. But longer, harder, stronger, hotter. Better.

Ronni fell off my head and lay beside us, gasping. Mom crumpled onto me, and held me, and kissed me.

"Oh baby, oh Terry, ohh..."

I softened and slipped out of Mom's pussy. She rolled off my body, between me and Ronni. We both held her.

"Oh wow, that was great," Ronni whispered. "I've never cum like that before! Oh Terry, your tongue is fantastic! And Mom, you kiss like an angel! Uh, Mom, there's something I'd like..."

"Anything, baby, anything at all."

"Well, umm, I want to see what Terry tastes like... and what you taste like. Is that pervy? But I REALLY want to taste your flavors..."

Mom held her, kissed her, caressed her, then pushed her away.

"I understand, baby. Here. Right here." Mom lay back and spread her legs. Ronni blushed.

"Oh god Mom, I love you so much, I love you BOTH so much. Oh Mom..."

Ronni embraced Mom, and kissed her mouth, and slid down her taut body, kissing nipples and navel and thighs. I watched with amazement as my sister went down on our sexy mother. I saw her lap-up our combined juices from Mom's soggy vulva, sucking deep from within - and then go further, and tongue-tease her clit. Mom groaned and writhed.

Picture this: Two dirty-blonde women, hot and sweaty with latent lust, merged. Mom lay back, her thighs spread and knees up, with Ronni nestled dog-down in-between, slurping Mom's pale pussy. Ronni's hands reached up to Mom's breasts, stroking, teasing, caressing; Ronni was on her knees, her butt up in the air, wiggling.

The scene stiffened me almost immediately. Ronni's butt enticed me almost irresistibly. Almost? No, I could NOT resist! I knelt behind my sister on the bed and smoothly slid my beef bayonet into her oh-so-wet blind entrance. When my dickhead passed her labia, her pussy seemed to suck me in.

As I entered Ronni, she took a deep breath, and groaned, and ramped-up her oral ministrations on Mom. I encouraged her mother-worship by fucking her fully, deeply; slow-stroking for a bit, then pounding into her; then slow and serious again.

Serious? Aw, fuck this slow shit! I sped-up my fucking. All the way!

My upper thighs slammed into Ronni's bountiful Dutch dumplings with a wet slapping sound, faster and sharper, a drumbeat of debauched desire. My sister's flushed face remained sealed to our mother's altar of love; she stabilized by keeping a steady hold on Mom's breasts. Mom pressed her pubes forward to tighten the seal.

And I kept pounding. I had cum twice in the last hour. Sure, I was nineteen, and immortal, and quick at recovery; but I still needed time to fully recharge.

Which meant I had to keep pounding. Which made Ronni very happy. Very.

Mom was happy too; she screamed first. Her vocalizations started as a low growl, then a growing groan, and then a high-pitched ululation threatening to break mirrors, glass vases, and thermometers.

Ronni yelled next, her face still buried in Mom's front garden. Her muffled moans sounded like a holy-roller snake handler's ecstatic glossolalia.

I kept pounding into Ronni's squishy slot. I finally exploded again. I felt the burn in my balls, the rising sap, the impending throb... and the eruption! Pulse after pulse, oh fuck, oh fuck... I burned now, almost searing - the agony of ecstasy, my much-used urethra's painfully pleasurable protest.

My roar was quieter that the women's shouts. I collapsed onto Ronni, who collapsed onto Mom, who did not complain.

Ronni and I slid off to either side of Mom, and held her and kissed her, and each other. We all suffered fish-out-of-water gasping syndrome. Wheeze...

"I think we need to shower again," Mom panted. She made no move to rise.

"I know we need to get clean! And fed," Ronni said. Yes, we had fucked away the afternoon. The burning sun had dropped behind the Coast Ranges into the Pacific Ocean without raising steaming clouds. I know I burnt a few zillion calories since our long-ago lunch of piroshkis and Olivye salad.

"Do you guys feel like cooking? It's been a long day," I asked.

"No no no," Mom said, in more control of her voice and breathing now. "We'll call for Thai food. Bai Mint tastes great and delivers fast - so fast, we'd better clean up before we call, or they'll get here while we're showering."

"And then you or Ronni could pay the guy with just a towel loosly wrapped around you, right, Mom?" I teased. "Maybe get a discount that way, yeah?"

"The last time I ordered from them, Kanya made the delivery," Mom said. "She'd probably rather see you in a towel, or less, than she would us. Well, maybe us too - who knows?" She grinned. "I've always had my suspicions about Kanya."

"Might be fun to find out," Ronni smirked. "Maybe another time. Or maybe we should ALL answer the door in just lava-lavas, right? Then we'd be ready for anyone. Or it could be that grotty old guy, Narong. Ewww..."

"Okay, clean and dress first, then we call for food," Mom commanded. Yes, she was still Mom; and she still gave orders; and we still obeyed.

We made the bed with fresh sheets. We climbed back in the shower together for more lathering, washing, rinsing, and taste-testing each other again. We group-hugged under the flow and shared water.

"Oh kids, this feels so good, so right!" Mom moaned. "Why didn't we do this before?" It was a rhetorical question. We kissed our answers.

We dried. We dressed. We ordered. We were presentable in shorts and tees when Kanya rang the doorbell. Ronni and I answered the door together while Mom perfected the dining-nook table setting.

Slight dark Kanya handed us the delivery bags and took our money. Then she crooked her head and looked closely at us.

"You guys having a party here? No, it's too quiet. But something smells like... and someone looks like... fun... yeah, animal fun. You guys been having fun? You got Suzi-Q in there, or Dov?" She squinted at us. She sniffed. Twice.

I guess we both tried to look innocent. I guess we both failed. Kanya snorted and nodded knowingly; her upper lip curled slightly, briefly. Ronni giggled. I shrugged, and tried to cover.

"Oh, we were just chasing around, playing silly games."

"Silly games!" Ronni chimed in. "You stole my diary! I had to get it back!"

"You need to exercise more. You run like a girl. Gotta do better if you want to catch me."

"Yeah, little brother, you always were a pest." She slapped my arm.

Kanya sighed. "Uh-huh. Okay, enjoy your meal. Say 'hi' to your mom for me." She walked away, shaking her head and muttering.

We munched on our jumbo prawn Panang curry, soft-shell clam curry, Pad Peth catfish, coconut rice, and fresh-brewed lemon-ginger tea. And we talked. Guess what we talked about? Yes, about recent events. We talked more than we ate. Plenty of leftovers. No bloated guts.

"Y'know, this dinner sure wasn't Italian, but I'm in the mood for a finisher," Mom said. She headed for the little liquor cabinet. "Anyone care for limoncello?"

Ronni and I nodded in unison. Yeah, one of our favorites!

Limoncello is tasty and easy, and every maker has their own flavor. Everyone in southern Italy with a lemon tree makes limoncello, and none of it tastes the same - none except cheap batches of WalMart-quality stuff.

The basic recipe is simple: macerate lemon zest and soak in vodka or spirits for a few days or weeks, with sugar mixed in. Filter it, bottle it, consume it, enjoy it. Oh, you can get fancy and make a cream limoncello, maybe adding vanilla bean or allspice or other impertinences. It comes out smoother than the straight stuff. But Mom's pure limoncello is bright, crisp, and flowery, a great digestif.

"We don't need to stay here and wear clothes in order to digest, do we?" Ronni asked innocently.

Mom transported the tray holding the bottle and glasses. "No, we don't. Anyone have a preference?"

We were all naked and back in the king bed within forty-five seconds, by my reckoning. We sipped our liqueur carefully and digested easily. But we were sloppy. Quantities of limoncello somehow spilled onto intimate portions of anatomy, which needed to be licked clean.

That is how I found myself sanitizing Mom's muff with my tongue, while she vacuumed Ronni's velvet vulva with her luscious lips, as my cock flossed my big sister's tangy teeth. Then we flipped around to double-check our cleanup work. Many close inspections were required. Yum.

Do you know how many ways two women and a guy can connect? We tried all the permutations. We did not keep count, but I suspect the total is more than three (factorial), where 3!=6. I am sure we tried more than six positions. Wait, I'm doing the math wrong. Don't calculate permutations based on the number of people (3), but on the number of organs (6, not counting buttholes). And six (factorial), where 6!=720... yeah, we might have tried that many. If not, we'll try again.

After all the grunting, squirting, and yelling, we slept. I know we slept because I woke up later and so did my mom and sis. Mom can tell that story.

-

NEXT: What Mom has to say about all this whilst serving WPLJ (White Port and Lemon Juice) heated like sake.

Author's note: This story by Hypoxia Smurf is copyright (c) 2014. Keep your eyes peeled for more A TASTE OF INCEST tales - some adapted, some new, some in series, many standalone. This is a sequel to a SUMMER LOVIN' STORY CONTEST 2014 entry and lacks any redeeming literary or social value. Expect a third and final short chapter, from Mom's POV. And don't miss THE BOOK OF RUTH and the BLACK & WHITE stories. If you like this, VOTE!

PS: If anyone at Bai Mint is actually named Kanya or Narong, I apologize.