Family Development Ch. 05: The Beard

All Characters In This Story Are 18+ Years Old.

*****

Claude James sat bolt upright in bed. His naked chest and shoulders were bathed in a clammy layer of cold sweat. Simultaneously, a burning sensation streaked up the back of his neck, pulling his scalp hairs to attention. His temples pounded and disorienting lights flashed behind his eyes as he looked around, unable to make sense of where he was. The light-headed spell passed quickly enough, but Claude's angst remained until he fully gathered his bearings. He shook his head and rubbed the nape of his neck as he took in the Draper Motel Room #1.

The bedside clock displayed 4:14 a.m. On either side of him, Sally Martin, his 38-year old daughter and sister, and her 18-year old daughter, Nel, lay nude, partially draped by the bedcovers and undisturbed by his sudden rising. Claude was glad of that. He grinned broadly, stroking his cleft chin, recalling the great news from yesterday: Both women were happily pregnant by him and all three were looking forward to his relocation from Portland to Denver to become a full-fledged family unit after six years of separation.

During the night, his cuddling harem had moved into their preferred sleeping postures. Sally, to his right, lay facing the motel window, on her right side, pedaling an invisible bicycle. Her top leg was drawn up over her extended lower leg. Nel, turned toward the bathroom door, was curled into a compact fetal position. Her head lay, on her pillow, on her bent left arm. Her pert right breast was supported by her crooked right elbow while her right hand cupped her left tit. Their chests and ribs moved in gentle peaceful rhythms as they dreamt their sweet dreams.

Claude pulled himself from under the blanket and sheet, as if climbing out of a sleeping bag, careful not to waken his lovers, and eased his way to the foot of the king-size bed. Standing, he looked down, mildly surprised his daily dawn erection was absent. "Thanks, Dad," he muttered, under his breath, "You bastard!" He had not thought, more than fleetingly, about Ben James, for more than a decade, and now, his 12-years-dead father's face had inexplicably stirred him from a pleasant sleep. Claude walked to the window and sat in an armchair beside the small round table, still strewn with the paper leavings of last night's Subway picnic. His mind flew back to 1977, to the end of what he still thought of as 'Fuck Week.'

*

Saturday, June 18, Claude woke, with his typical hard-on, in his 40-year old mother's four-poster bed. His dick poked between Carla's matronly thighs as he spooned against her nude back and buttocks. His right arm curled over her waist and around her firm flat tummy. He had awakened this way every morning, since Tuesday, after their whirlwind, anything goes anywhere, explorations of each other began precipitously on Monday. He was still frankly amazed that he had fucked his mother at all, let alone seven times in 16 hours. Her aerobics and yoga classes, which helped her maintain her glorious 35D-28-37 figure, and her pent up randiness, from Ben's neglect, were a wild combination. Claude was grateful that competitive swimming and water polo had given him the fitness and stamina to keep up. At the very least, it compensated for his lack of experience. Before Carla's surprise molestation, he had only ever actually screwed three girls a total of five times across a two year period. Now he was fucking, literally morning, noon and night, the most beautiful, most personal, trainer, ever.

Claude pushed his nose against the base of his mother's neck, inhaling the light floral fragrance of her lustrous shampooed amber hair. He softly kissed her nape while his right hand rose from her midriff to the bottom of her left breast, closing upon its full roundness. Carla moaned quietly as her body responded. Her mind fled her fuzzy fantasies and focused on the real pleasure her son's attention brought. She spun, slowly, in his half-embrace, until she faced his stubbled jaw and chin. His cock re-entered the crevice between her thighs, still inches below where it so desperately wanted to be lodged.

Claude stretched his left arm out and curved it around Carla's smooth back, coursing his hand lazily along her spine while his right fingers centered on her tit, scissoring her stiffening inverted nipple. Carla brushed her left hand along Claude's right cheek from his earlobe to the corner of his mouth. She tentatively poked her index finger between his lips and ran its tip over his bottom teeth as his mouth opened.

"Mmmmm," Carla hummed, "Good morning, Sweetie. How's my fella today?" She asked throatily, giving Claude a lingering kiss and interrupting his attempted answer.

Claude responded nonverbally by pressing his left hand flat against Carla's bottom and pushing her hips forward while scrunching his pelvis. His effectively elevated erection snubbed its velvet knob against her dampening cunt and twitched. Carla broke the kiss. She grinned when she heard Claude huskily reply, with a low chortle, "Up and at 'em."

"Mmm HHMM!" Carla hummed emphatically between their recompressed lips as she lowered her left hand to her son's buttock and pulled him closer still to her nest. She raised her left leg, keeping her foot flat against the mattress and opening the flared entrance to her grotto. Claude's fat cock burrowed deep through her os into her slippery trench. She flexed her cunt, holding him tightly trapped in her twat, while they wrapped each other in their arms and kissed with tender ardor, enjoying their momentary motionless union.

Carla adored the fullness she felt in her vagina when it swallowed Claude's thick hard penis. She rocked her hips against each slow deep thrust and squeezed him at each apex, encouraging him to linger. Their tensions increased in deliciously agonizing small increments until, finally, Carla gasped and mewled. "Uuuuhhhhnnnn!" She sighed as a great rolling wave crested in her gut and broke over her son's captured cock.

"Hhhnnnnhh!" Claude snorted through his nose, exhaling his sweet warm breath onto Carla's soft face, while she sucked his tongue and he replenished her pussy's sperm supply with a fresh hot seed-filled storm.

They lay cradling each other, locked at their loins, until Claude's dick shrunk and retracted. Carla ran her fingers through his hair and over his face, unable to stop smiling, as she gazed into his steel-gray eyes. "You are so BEAUTIFUL, Sweetie," she purred.

Claude's musical memory was triggered by her inflected compliment and he instantly sang back to her, softly and off-key, covering Joe Cocker's 1975 hit:

"You're everything I hope for,

You're every... everything I need...

You are... so beautiful... to me"

Carla laughed, patted his face and said "Thank you, 'JOE'! Now, let's get up and have breakfast... We also need to plan how we're going to behave in... what, four hours? When your Dad gets back from San Francisco."

*

Meanwhile, at that very moment, in a suite at the St. Francis Hotel, in San Francisco, Ben James was bent over the pallid freckled ass of his 22-year old Executive Marketing Assistant, Kristy Stauffer. She knelt her 5' frame on a mushroom and taupe colored hassock. Her undressed 90 pounds barely dented the brocade upholstery, as she braced her slender arms on the sill of the 31st floor bay window overlooking the Golden Gate Bridge. She glanced from the spectacular view, past her pendant speed bumps, to the glistening curls of her trimmed thatch, which were the exact color of the bridge's paint.

Ben's cock lay on top of her flat bottom. His freshly ejaculated spunk was sprayed in greasy gobs from her coccyx to her scapulae. A couple of threads had even managed to land on the back of her copper red pixie haircut. She was still wiggling and moaning as his strong hands coursed up and down her heaving ribs. "Hhhuuunnnn, Benneee! Benneee!" she whimpered, "Stick it... back... IN...I'm not... DONE!"

Ben looked down at the gaping hole above Kristy's bright pink conch. "Anything you say, Little One," he growled, picking his prick off her backside with his left hand and directing its swollen purple head into her stretched asshole. "HERE... you... GO!" He exclaimed, shoving his iron cock deep into her butt.

"UHNN!" Kristy grunted with the impact of his quads against her glutes and hams. "UHNN! YES! Oh! BENeeeeeee!" She screamed, jamming her right hand between her legs, into her twat, frisking her clit ferociously.

Ben pounded away. "Here!... Here!... Here!" He huffed with every hip thrust. His balls slapped with each stroke, while his hands, on her narrow shoulders, pulled her forcefully back.

"UHNN! Harder! More! HARDER!" Kristy begged. Her flooding cunt drained onto her thighs.

Ben slowed down. His leg muscles quivered with the strain, but he still kept swinging his stick, grimacing and groaning, until, with redoubled effort, he cajoled another shot of cum from his nuts. This time, he rammed home and held, tamping his load as far into Kristy's barrel as his length allowed.

"AYYYEEEE! JEE-SUSS CHRIST!" Kristy yelled, through the sealed window, across the North Bay, feeling the intense pressure in her ass. Her stressed left elbow and wrist ached from absorbing his mighty lunges. "Oh My God! Bennee! That was GREAT!" She wheezed and panted as he withdrew his dick.

Ben gave Kristy's bottom an affectionate spank, gasping, "Yeah... it WAS, wasn't it? You are a TOTAL piece of ASS." He stepped back from the stool and plucked some tissues from a nearby box. Wiping himself off he said, "You know, that bitch Carla won't let me even touch her rosebud. Says 'that's dirty'..." He laughed. "Once, maybe five, six years ago... I said to her, 'So, why don't you go wash it?' and she fucking SLAPPED me!"

Kristy got down from the hassock and hobbled over to her boss. She hugged him close, rubbing her 32B titties against his hairy, slightly paunchy, gut and chest. "Well, maybe it IS 'dirty' but, I sure LIKE it!" She stretched, on tiptoe, to her full height plus, and kissed Ben. "Come in the shower with me?" She asked snickering, doubtful he possibly could, but hoping they could at least play some more before they checked out.

Ben looked at his watch. "You go ahead, I'll call Northwest, confirm our flight and then join you."

*

In Pasadena, Claude and Carla were taking their morning coffee on the patio, enjoying the sun, already warm, as they spread orange marmalade on toast and listened to the birds in the arroyo. Claude wore an old pair of loose grey jersey sweatpants and a white ribbed cotton tank top. His left flip-flop had fallen from his foot when he crossed his legs in the wrought iron arm chair. Carla had pulled a light blue sheer nylon and lace negligee from her closet and covered up with a blue chiffon caftan. Her feet were tucked into two inch wedge-soled baby-blue scuffs with white marabou feathers on their toe straps. She idly bumped and tickled her right foot against the bare instep of her son's right foot, threatening to dislodge his other rubber thong as she nudged him.

"So... seriously, Sweetheart," Carla said, continuing her stratagem, "We MUST behave ourselves... not just pretend, but ACTUALLY NOT act like anything other than mother and son anytime Ben is around." She put her cup in her saucer and placed her right hand on top of Claude's left wrist, stopping him from picking up the butter knife to apply more marmalade to his next slice of toast. "LISTEN, to me, OK? I MEAN it. When Ben is not out of town, we simply CANNOT do anything even near to like what... we've been doing..." her voice trailed off as she struggled with her conscience and her heart.

Claude dropped his toast on his plate and uncrossed his legs. Turning left 90 degrees to his mother, scraping his chair on the tile as he swiveled his butt, he reversed his left wrist in her palm and slid his hand up her forearm to her elbow. He brought his right hand, flat and gentle, up to her soft left cheek and stroked her face with his thumb as he gripped her arm. Claude stared straight into Carla's hazel eyes, wet with unshed welled tears.

"I know that, Mom." He said simply. "I've heard everything you've said and I agree 100%." He spread his knees and drew Carla off her chair, onto his lap. He made a show of looking left, right and over his shoulder, back to the house, as his right hand dropped from his mother's face to her left shoulder point. His left hand slid from her elbow, behind her back and around her ribcage, softly squeezing the outside of her left breast hiding within her slinky sleepwear. "Dad said 'noon,' right? I mean, he's not here, now, is he?" Claude kissed her lightly and she pushed hard against his mouth, forcing her tongue between his lips.

"NNNhhhh," Carla groaned.

Claude broke their kiss and pulled his face back. "Well? Right?" He persisted.

"You are a beast. A cruel, incorrigible BEAST!" Carla exclaimed, hitting his solid chest lightly with a balled up fist. "He said 'by noon' and I don't know when his plane is getting in, or what traffic will be like from LAX..." She opened her palm and rubbed circles on Claude's tank top, concentrating on his small hard nipples standing, in bas relief, against the thin ribbed material. "This.. is SO... RISKY!" She hissed, then moaned "Uhnnn, ohhh," as Claude seized her tit more firmly and tweaked her own hard nipple, pulling it away from its areola. He let it snap back but, quickly re-tugged and re-released it. "Jeeesus, Claaaauudde," she panted, her bosom heaving, "You do... get me, uhnnn... GOING!"

Claude laughed lightly, feeling his cock fatten in his pants. "You aren't without super powers, you know," he informed his mother. "Maybe we should go inside..."

"NNNhhhh," Carla groaned again, pressing her mouth against Claude's neck at the base of his right shoulder. "Yesss! Oh, go... COME... let's... INSIDE! PLEASE!"

Claude interpreted the gist of his mother's gibberish and stood from the chair, cradling her in his arms. En route to the house he spied the padded canvas lawn glider and detoured. Laying Carla down, on its long cushion, on her back, he pushed her floor length nightgown and caftan up her legs, past her tummy, and over her breasts, bunching them loosely around her neck. He climbed between her legs, bent her left knee up against the lawn swing's back and pushed her right leg over the edge. Carla braced her right foot on the far arm rest. Her left foot, still in its slipper, was flat on the ground.

Claude leaned forward and kissed Carla. "Let's ROCK right here," he suggested, pulling down his sweatpants and showing off his eager erection.

"Yes! Let's!" Carla agreed, grabbing his cock with both hands, pushing him, guiding him, down into her inviting cunt.

Claude's build was overlarge for the glider. He bent his left leg, bracing his shin flush on the arm rest, and extended his right leg out over Carla's left thigh. As his thick prick slid deep into her cunny, he pushed his right foot on the grass. The glider swung back. Claude retreated his cock until its helmet emerged. Her nether lips kissed it as the swing moved forward. Carla picked up the rhythm with her outside leg and joined her son's easy half-dance. In and back. Out and forward. Claude's weight, laying on her chest, forced her lungs to empty. She spread her hands under his armpits, pushing him up as she inhaled and relaxing as she breathed out. In and up. Out and down.

Claude grinned over his blonde lover's shoulder at the faded green canvas sides of the swinging glider. In and back. Out and forward. In and up. Out and down. They moved like machine parts. His mind recalled the child's verse:

"The owl and pussycat went to sea

In a beautiful pea-green boat.

They took some honey and plenty of money

Wrapped up in five-pound note."

"Was that a secret coded incestuous message?" he wondered, absurdly, as he felt his nuts tighten, preparing to deliver 'plenty of money' albeit unwrapped, into Carla's golden pot of 'honey.'

The creaking swing was rocking. Its legs lifted, front and back, with the increasing tempo of the lovers. Carla's moans morphed into higher volume yips and squeals with her impending crisis.

Claude came first. "AARGGH!" He roared, pulling his right leg up onto the glider beside his left and thrusting his pelvis hard onto his mother's cunt, exploding his jism into her, his glans flush against her back wall.

"AYYYYYEEEEEE!" Carla screamed. She raised her left leg and clamped her ankle across Claude's flexed buttocks. His bumping bulb cracked her womb's door. Her rushing climax swamped the visitor, welcoming its fertile presents.

In the fury of their orgasms, the lawn swing tipped past its recovery point and toppled. The conjoined couple tumbled over its back, across its awning, upside down on the grassy verge, and out onto the bedding plants behind it. Unhurt, mother and son laughed hysterically while they rolled on the primroses away from the overturned hazard.

"I told you this was 'risky'!" Carla announced, gleefully poking Claude in the ribs and standing up. "Just LOOK at me!" She said, dismayed, regarding her grubby grass stained knees and elbows. "Luckily my nighty didn't get caught in anything or I might have been strangled!" She shook her head, still laughing at herself.

Claude turned around as he stood up. "You wanna brush the plant food off my ass, please, Mom?" He asked, smiling at her over his shoulder and displaying his dusty derriere.

"No," She winked and added, "but after we get this thing upright again, I'll be more than happy to rub you head to toe with a washrag in the shower." She looked at the flower bed. "I don't think Ben'll even notice, but if he says something, let's tell him the Magruder's dog followed Nomar through the gate when he came in Wednesday to do the yard."

Claude agreed to the alibi, righted the glider, picked up his sweatpants and followed Carla up to the French doors to the master bedroom.

*

At 2 p.m. the James' telephone rang. Carla picked up the dayroom extension near the sewing machine where she sat finishing the curtains she had summarily abandoned nearly a week ago. "Hello?" She spoke into the receiver.

"Hey, Carla," Ben's voice crackled on the other end.

"Oh! Hey, yourself... weren't you going to be home already?" Carla quizzed.

"Yeah, that's why I'm calling," Ben answered. He hugged Kristy to his waist as he stood at the phone kiosk. His right fingers depressed her soft acrylic knit mini-dress against her supple young stomach. Exploring upward, they marched to her left titty and casually tapped her stiff nipple. She squirmed and shifted on her toes from one high-heel pump to the other as his nails scratched the cloth across her sensitive braless skin. "We were delayed out of SFO... some unexpected issues on the tarmac... you know the airlines, they never say why." Ben slid his hand down the front of Kristy's left leg and covered her cunt, forcing the dress material between her legs against the thin shield of her cotton bikini panties. Unobservant travelers, intent on their own destinations and thoughts, passed busily on the causeway, completely ignorant of the developing drama.

"Uhhhnnnn," She moaned when his middle finger rubbed the fabric between her lips and pushed her doorbell.

"What was that?" Carla asked. "There was background noise and I missed what you said."

"I'm in the terminal at LAX" Ben spoke into the phone, grinning as Kristy rotated her bottom, driving his finger harder onto her clit. He stretched his index and ring fingers down and vised them against the edges of her camel-toe, juicing her, like a grapefruit half, through her dress and panties. "That was probably an incoming announcement you heard." He suggested, while Kristy raised her right hand to her mouth and bit into the webbing between her thumb and index finger, stifling herself as she danced and came.