Family Flavors Ch. 02

Claire felt Peter's hands move down his mother's back and grasp her buttocks. She pushed her pelvis against them instinctively. Peter felt his girlfriend's mound rubbing against his hands he as was kneading his own mother's ass. For some reason it heightened his desire.

"Why don't you take his cock out, Claire? I expect he would like that," whispered Peter's mom.

Ignoring a voice in her shouting not to obey this monster of a woman, Claire did just that. Her mounting desire was impossible to ignore. She was glad of the instruction. She twisted her hand up into Peter's boxers, grasping him directly. She pulled gently and his stiff cock came out of his boxers and lay flat against his mom's belly while Claire's hand held it there. Almost without thought, Claire began to gently rub it. As she did so, the first drops of juice started to trickle down from her own pussy onto Peter's hands and his mom's ass. The funny thing was, she was still cold. But her brain was heating up like an oil furnace mistakenly switched on in a Maryland summer.

Peter's mom clasped her hands around her son's back. Still weak from the hypothermia, but warming up slowly, she let them slide down to his ass cheeks.

"Poor Peter. You are so cold. Let me rub you."

Peter felt his mom rubbing his ass, as his girlfriend rubbed his cock against his mom's belly. Peter, just like Claire, deep down wondered what was going on. But his mounting desire took over and his decision-making center moved from his brain to his cock.

Claire had one hand on Peter's mom's breast while the other was stroking Peter's cock. Claire needed more. She let go his mom's breast, pulled her hand back and stuffed it into her own pussy cleft, seeking the relief that her inflamed desire demanded. Her pussy rewarded her with a flood of wetness which soaked Peter's hands, running down them and onto the bed.

Peter felt the warm wetness, knowing where it came from. His mom felt her ass grow wet and slippery from her son's girlfriend's pussy and it inflamed her as the chemicals she had taken the night before started to wake up her own frigid nervous system. Those chemicals had already trapped her son and his girlfriend.

"That feels nice and warm, Claire," said his mom. "You can't do Peter any good where you are so maybe you could do me just one more favor. Take his cock and push it inside me. Do that and we will be friends."

Like Peter, Claire was on fire. To actually put her boyfriend's cock into his own mother was an act of debauchery which would normally have disgusted her. But today, right now, it seemed perfect. She felt his mom, lying on her side, arch her back and lift her leg to allow access to her sopping crotch, as the tip of her son's cock, still grasped in Claire's hand, came close to his moms pussy.

Mom was right. Claire wasn't getting anything where she was, stuck behind his mom's back.

As she fingered herself with one hand, her other guided her boyfriend's cock into his mom's pussy, and as soon as Peter felt his cock positioned at his moms opening he gasped and shoved himself all the way up inside his mother. Claire felt his cock disappear up into her, like magic. Claire gently grasped his balls.

"Fuck me, Peter."

Peter started to thrust into his mom.

Lying on their side facing one another, Peter and his mom lacked a solid foundation for their fucking. In the heat of action, as he thrust she was pushed away, sometimes almost dislodging him. His mom's hands had moved up to his back, clasping him to her in her heat.

Claire, glued to his moms back, still on fire with desire and sensing this, let go his balls and with both hands grabbed Peter's ass, pulling him towards her and deep into his mom.

The trio, bound by sexual desire out of control, formed one pumping sex machine. Claire held onto Peter's tight butt, holding him and pulling him against his mother as he thrust into her again and again.

Claire felt her boyfriend pump faster and faster. He was about to come, and when he let out a desperate moan his back arched and she knew he was spurting his cum into his mother even as her arms were wrapped around both of them, keeping them together. He kept still, arched against her, and then slowly sank back, his cock still partly in her, still dribbling his sperm into his mom's pussy.

"That feels so warm," said his mom, digging her nails into his back as she came.

The thrusting over, Claire was still on fire even more so for being next to her boyfriend while he let loose a load of cum into his mother. She fingered herself silently, but as she did so a hand felt back and sought out her pussy. It was his mom's hand. Two fingers inserted themselves into her cleft and Claire pulled her own hand away. Someone else's hands are always so much better. As the fingers twisted, Claire, already almost coming by her own efforts, abandoned herself to the expert fingers of her boyfriend's mother. She came like an epileptic, shaking and rattling, her whole body consumed with her fiery orgasm.

After she was done, mom's hand was withdrawn. The bed was soaked.

"I think I'm well enough to manage a bath. Perhaps you could both help me to the bedroom."

Afterwards

By midday, with Peter's mom bathed and put to bed on the mend, Peter and Claire lay on their bed looking at the ceiling in silence. They had not spoken since the event with his mom. Eventually Claire spoke.

"What just happened?"

"My mom's science. You didn't really believe me, did you?"

Claire shook her head.

"I believed you about your Mom. The abuse. But this, this is incredible. I have never been so horny. And I don't like your mother. Or three-ways for that matter."

Peter turned on his side to look at her.

"She has something new. This is not flavor. This is different. Much more powerful."

"I don't know what's going on. Peter, what are we to do? I'm lost. My gallery should be open. I've already canceled one show."

Claire owned an art gallery in New York City.

Hours later, wrapped in a blanket, Peter's mother looked tired and depressed as Claire sat down next to her on the huge sofa in the living area. Twilight approached and she could see the luminous ribbons of the floodlit ski runs on the opposite side of the valley. Peter remained in the bedroom.

"I'm very sorry about what happened earlier, Claire. I was not myself. Hypothermic. Not thinking straight."

Claire was not sure how to respond. She shrugged.

"We all did what we did willingly. I don't understand why. Now I am ashamed."

"No. Not really willingly. You see I have been testing some new drugs. On myself. As I warmed up they took effect. A new serotonin pathway my labs have discovered. Volatile, they exude from my pores, my breath, my...secretions. They've worn off now. Short half-life."

Claire stood up, apprehensive of being too close to her.

"What do you want from me?"

"Why, nothing. I want to apologize."

"I need to get back to my Art Gallery, Mrs. Kneely. I have already had to cancel my first show of the new year."

She shook her head and patted the sofa for Claire to sit back down next to her. Claire remained standing.

"Please listen to me Claire. You won't return if I let you go. I know you will dump Peter. But it wasn't his fault. Peter needs you. What happened was unfortunate. Think of it as a laboratory accident. But, Claire, I need you too."

"Mrs Kneely, you are not normal. You do bad things."

"Claire, my ambition has cost me my husband and Peter's brother. Experiments gone wrong. I am not going to endanger Peter, nor do I want him to head for the hills again. He tried to kill me and I don't blame him. He's all I've got left. Will you help me? There are so few people I can trust."

Peter's mom broke down and sobbed.

Claire watched Peter's mother weep. After a while she considered the tears genuine.

"Tell me about the business."

"Meet me in the Lab tomorrow morning. Bring Peter if you want."

But Peter was falling into a deep depression, and the following morning Claire could not get him out of bed.

Mom demonstrates her new Research

Claire sat on a stool next to the lab bench. Claire looked around at all of the lab equipment. The computers. The mass-spec. Centrifuges.

"Claire, do you know how difficult it is to run a business built around the chemistry of sex?"

"Not really, no. I own an art gallery."

Claire was trying to rationalize what happened between the three of them the day before. Maybe it really was just due to them all warming up together in bed...

Peter's mother could see that Claire did not believe her. She opened a drawer under the lab bench and pulled out a small plastic box.

"Here's an example. I have to make these myself. I can't trust my people with them."

Peter's mom rattled the box of lozenges. She opened it and offered one to Claire, who bent down and sniffed. Aromatic Cherry. They looked like the ones you take for a sore throat. Red boiled sweets. Chloraseptic.

"Take one."

"No thank you."

"Alright, then I will."

She took one and sucked it around in her mouth for a minute or so, careful to breathe through her nose. Claire watched this dangerous nutcase, wondering what was coming next. She leaned forwards, parted her lips, and breathed out directly into Claire's face, gently. All Claire noticed was the cherry breath from a sore-throat lozenge.She sniffed it.

Within fifteen seconds a powerful erotic hunger surged in her brain, travelled down her spine to her loins. She could feel her pussy awakening, her panties becoming damp. She started to tremble with desire.

Peter's mom carefully disgorged the lozenge into a tiny plastic container and put it on the bench. The she took a swig of water from a plastic bottle, rinsed her mouth out, and spat it out into the large lab sink.

"How do you feel, Claire?"

Claire hung her head, embarrassed and unbelievably horny.

"Come over here." She led Claire to an examination couch.

"Sit up on it."

Drowsy with languid thoughts of penetration and visions of fucking, Claire did as she was told.

"Although I try not to breathe in, some always gets into me. So, I know how you feel. I'm aroused myself. Here. Let me."

Claire was wearing a wool skirt and fleece over a thick shirt. She gently pushed Claire down flat onto the table and lifted up her skirt, exposing her panties. They were already wet through. She pulled the sopping panties off her. Claire knew what was happening, but made no protest. It was like her desire made her crazy. She craved relief.

Peter's mom dipped down and pushed her mouth onto Claire's pussy. Her expert tongue darted about and within seconds Claire came, writhing about and screaming, drenching her face and lab coat.

When Claire was done she stood up straight again, and wiped her face with a paper towel. She gave one to Claire.

"Now do you believe?"

Claire wiped herself dry and pulled down her skirt. She left the sopping panties on the floor.

"No more experimenting on Peter?"

"No. I promise. Or you."

"You just experimented on me."

"To prove it was real. A tiny dose. The effects vary. You seem very susceptible. Look, Claire. I know you think I'm a monster. But I'm not. I just want to take human sexuality to the next level. I can enrich people's lives. Immensely. I just have to get the bugs worked out and the dose right. I'm not going to take risks any more with safety. Except for myself. And perhaps a few others. But not you or Peter."

Claire returned from the laboratory deep in thought to find Peter stretched out on their bed just as she had left him.

"Wake up. I believe everything. You. Your mom's science. Everything."

"So now you're going back to NYC, right? Never to return. Guys who have sex with their mom are not such a great catch."

"Is that what you want?"

"No."

"Good. Then I'm staying. Man up, for heaven's sake. Want some coffee? "

The Golden Globes

After a subdued dinner that evening Claire and Peter sat down to watch the Golden Globes with Peter's mom. It was early this year. Neither was particularly interested, but his mom had persuaded them to keep her company while she watched. It seemed a crazy way to spend the night after all they had been through, but they did it.

They all sat on the sofa together just like a regular family. The Red Carpet coverage was finished and the opening show was OK, but not as good as in some years. The camera panned around the front tables where the nominees and many famous faces were sitting.

"Is that Sir Cumsalot?" asked Peter. "I didn't think he was up for anything this year."

"He isn't," said Peter's mom. "Crispin's there as a favor to me. Along with a few of my other friends in the film business."

"Mom. What have you done? What's going to happen?"

"I don't know. Let's watch."

After a while the first of the awards was up. Best Supporting Actor. The camera zoomed in on the nervous nominees, some of whom were sucking sweets to prevent dry-mouth. They all looked anxious. The winner was announced by Ellen Murren, a distinguished English actress, and the recipient, a young American rising star, looked very unhappy. His face was beet red and the female companion sitting next to him seemed to be finding something very funny indeed. The audience clapped as the winner arose, with his hands clasped low in front of him, and made his way unsteadily to the stage. There were gasps among the closer audience members as he passed them. He made his way up the steps awkwardly to Ellen, who kissed him on the cheek, and whispered to him.

"Relax. Congratulations, Love. Go on take it, turn around and face the audience."

There was no way out. He took the statue with both hands – it was heavy – and turned to face the audience.

Under his form-fitting dinner trousers he was sporting the biggest hard-on that most of the global audience had ever seen. He stood holding his statuette while the audience cheered and laughed for three long seconds before the TV producers got their act together and zoomed in on his face.

The English presenter, her twinkling eyes fixed on the water bottle-size bulge in his crotch, leaned forward into the microphone and said.

"Very impressive, but I'm afraid you still only get one award, dear."

Mumbling thanks, his prepared remarks forgotten, he hurried off stage to loud applause and the producers switched to adverts.

The TV now had Peter and Claire's full attention.

"Mom, what's going on?"

Deborah muted the TV.

"Listen both of you. I want my drugs to be successful. Now, I can do clinical trials which takes years and billions of dollars then MAYBE get FDA approval, OR I can hand around a few samples at the Golden Globes and the world watches what happens. What do you think?"

"I'm thinking plan B," said Claire.

"She's a sharp one, Peter. You could learn from her."

"I can think of some downsides," said Peter, worried.

The awards came back on. It got much worse. Activities were going on at the tables. Inappropriate ones. When the network finally pulled the farcical ceremony from live coverage Peter and his mother, Claire, and the rest of the world watched the unedited proceedings uploaded by audience members in real time on YouTube and Live Leak.

It was quite entertaining.

"I didn't know Benedict was so well endowed," said Peter's mom. "That certainly is a big batch of cum," she added with professional interest.

"I don't understand the business plan. Or how you stay out of jail," said Peter, still worried.

Peter's mom shook her head.

"I am never going to sell these drugs. We are going to trade them for power. That was our first global advert." She looked at her watch. "All the evidence will have disappeared by now. I'm off to bed. Goodnight both of you. There are cookies on the coffee table if you want some."

Mom and Peter in the night

Much later in bed Peter awoke suddenly from an erotic dream, more intense than he had ever experienced. In it assorted Golden Globe-nominated stage actresses stroked him, and sucked him only to be replaced by a smiling Claire who did the same and then, his mother, who made him come. He awoke, sure he had messed up the bed. But no. Claire was asleep beside him. He had a rock-hard cock. He looked at Claire, not wanting to wake her up.

He remembered the cookies his mom had offered before he and Claire retired to bed. He was the only one to eat any.

Peter was furious. He was going to have it out with her. She had broken her promise.

His dick was large and stiff, snagging the sheet as he got out of bed. Silently he put his dead brother's dressing gown on and set out for his mother's bedroom. It was on the other side of the house. When he got there her room was dark. It was the middle of the night. He barged straight in, banging the door shut behind him.

His mother awoke, groaned, and put on the bedside light. She saw him standing at the end of her bed.

"What do you want, Peter?"

His dressing gown flapped open, exposing his hard cock. It waggling about menacingly. He wasn't ashamed. This was her fault.

"Mom, you promised. Look at me."

His sleepy mother looked at his cock. She remained silent, but she pulled the sheets aside revealing her translucent nighty which had ridden up, as they always do. Hers was half-way up her thigh.

She watched him approach.

Peter advanced and sat down on the bed in an agitated state. She could not take her eyes off his cock, half asleep as she was.

"What am I supposed to do?" he said.

"Do whatever you want."

He shook his head, as if he was trying to rid himself of a demon. He looked down at his mother and his hand stole up her leg to the hem of her nighty. Slowly he pushed it up, further and further, until the beauty of her waxed cunt was exposed. His mom's pussy was as sleepy as she was. But like her, it was waking up. He looked at it; as he watched he could see the changes of awakening sexual desire. Slight puffing of her clitty, a little blush appearing, swelling of the lips, and a glistening of moisture appearing at the cleft.

He put out his hand and touched it. His mother flinched; she was still half asleep, still awakening.

"You planned this," he whispered.

No response.

He was so hard at the sight; his cock seemed about to explode.

"Let's get this over with," he whispered.

He pushed his moms nighty up to her chest, and knelt on the bed. Grasping her ankles, he pulled her legs vertical and opened them a tad. He felt his mom hold them there.

His mom's pussy beckoned to him.

Kneeling down between her legs he tried to put his cock at the entrance to his mom's pussy, but he was still too high. Reaching forward he picked up the pillows from under her head and shoved them under her ass, and pulled her towards him roughly.

"Peter..."

She protested softly at his violence but he paid no heed.

Now he could get his cock in position, he gripped it and pushed it into her pussy, surprised at the resistance. No matter. He withdrew it, spat on his fingers and rubbed them on his cock, then he leaned forward with his hands below her ass, supporting her, and roughly shoved himself all the way in.

"Oomph," exclaimed his mom as her son's large unexpected cock rammed right up into her. She could feel his cock distending her, all the way up, touching her cervix. He did feel rough. She wasn't wet enough. But he started to thrust anyway.

"Peter. Stop for a moment. Let my body catch up."

Breathing like a bull, he did as his mother requested, remaining still inside her, holding her legs up in the air, against his belly and chest. He could feel his cock waiting like a fat torpedo inside her, ready to explode when the time came.

It had been perhaps two minutes since he had appeared at her door.

"Let go my legs."