Family Flavors

"Come over to the sink."

Peter got up and walked over to the sink. His mother followed with a plastic cup, a bigger one this time.

"Off you go. I'll catch it."

Peter closed his eyes, relaxed, and waited. A minute later Peter's cock jetted a golden stream into the sink. His Mom caught a half an inch in her cup, and then just as if she was bending over to drink from a faucet leaned right down into the sink, turned her head to the side and with her hand directed Peter's piss stream directly onto the tip of her tongue which she had stuck out. The moment the stream hit her tongue she pulled it back to savor the taste. Then with a groan she turned Peter's cock and directed the stream directly into her mouth swallowing as fast as she could, although she could not keep up with it.

After a few gulps she let go his cock and arose, spluttering a bit, but her eyes were wide and her lips smiling. Peter finished pissing. She turned his face to hers and kissed him, forcing her tongue into his mouth and along with it quite a volume of his own piss which she had been holding in her mouth. Peter recoiled, but as his Mom's tongue found his and the delicious apple cinnamon spice of his flavored piss went down his own throat, he found himself surrendering to his mother's embraces.

His cock was getting bigger again and his mother sensed it. Her hand went down to his shorts and pulled out his growing dick. Gripping it she pulled him back to the examination couch and pulled open her lab coat. She had a silk blouse and slacks on underneath. Keeping hold of his cock, she used her other hand to pull down her slacks and panties, stood on tiptoe to rest her ass on the side of the examination table and guided her son's fat cock quickly into her wet inviting pussy. It all happened so quickly and smoothly that Peter did not protest, he was still running the marvelous taste of his own piss around his mouth when he felt his cock head slide up into his Mom's pussy. Then instinct took over, all the old urges returning, all the old hunger. The guilt would come later.

He stepped up into his mother on his toes, the force of his movement pushing her up onto the couch and ensuring that his cock travelled all the way into her. She could feel it pushing against her insides, feel its size gently moving her internal organs. Then he started to thrust, his mother gasping with desire as he rocketed into her. Peter's mind was in a fever, a dark place, a place where he did not want to linger. In part he sought revenge by thrusting into his Mom with brutal force, unconsciously trying to punish her for what she had made him do, what she had made him become. His mother loved him all the more for the violent explosion of this thrusting, knowing where it came from, gasping and gasping as she hung onto him with her hands now around his neck so that he did not force her right off the exam couch over the other side.

"I'm cumming," he said in anger and despair as what was left in his balls surged up and spat into his mother, mixing with her own juices as they flowed out and down her legs.

"Peter, I love you," groaned his mother as she came with all the force of a woman having forbidden sex once more with a son she thought she had lost so many years before. Peter and his mother remained in position, quivering, he supporting her as the last spasms of his cock dribbled into her. Then his cock rapidly softened and slipped out of her, leaving a trail of cum on her leg and her unbuttoned lab coat.

His mother fingered her pussy, catching the mix of semen and her own juices in a cupping motion and bringing it to her lips. She licked it off the palm of her hand.

"My best work yet. You taste like raspberries and cream, even mixed with my own secretions. Claire will be delighted."

Ignoring his mother, Peter fished around and pulled his pants back on.

"I should never have come back. Funeral or no funeral."

"Go back to Claire. Make my apologies. I have more work to do here tonight. I'll see you both in the morning."

Peter walked back to main house, shivering through the gauntlet of driving snow, deep in a depression bordering on despair.

Claire goes walkabout

Peter returned to the dining table in the main lodge and muttered to Claire about his mother being too busy to return for coffee. Then he clammed up.

Claire could see enough on the face of her boyfriend to know that something was very wrong. She did not quiz him, but made them both coffee and sat watching him while they retired to the large sofa. She sat back and thought.

Claire came from a wealthy family herself. But Claire's life had not always been wine and roses and she knew that sins can be more easily concealed in wealthy families.

When she was growing up some of her older male relatives came on to her. One in particular. But Claire was patient. When she was taken on a family canoe trip in Utah, the uncle made the mistake of taking her smile at face value. Together, alone in a canoe, he waited until they were out of site of the others to make another attempt.

When he came towards her she caught him by surprise and pushed him overboard. Then she forced him underwater with a paddle over and over until he drowned in the cold water. It was passed off by her family as an accident, despite a suspicious coroner. But her family knew. No-one touched her again after that.

Perhaps as a result of this episode, she went off the rails in her late teens; shoplifting, using drugs, and running around with local teen gangs. A spell in a young offenders institution had made her realize that she did not want that life. But she had learned much from her cellmates. She had told Peter none of this. While he sat staring out at the driving snow, she thought about what she should do. Peter's mother never reappeared, so they went to bed.

After a night in which Peter had hardly slept Claire awoke. Christmas Day dawned with more drifting snow. The road down the mountain was closed, as was the airport two miles away. By mid-morning Claire found herself alone.

Peter had gone off with his mother yet again to help in some mysterious task in another part of the building, so Claire had the opportunity to look around. She had already found the micro lens in the bathroom, a discovery which shocked and deeply angered her.

As Peter and his mother did whatever they were doing in the laboratory Claire had ample opportunity to explore the ranch. She had no qualms about looking in bedrooms, the kitchens, everywhere. If she was discovered, she was prepared to show Peter the camera in their bathroom. She was sure he did not know about it. She trusted him. Using a paper clip she picked a simple lock to a room connected to Peter's mothers bedroom. There she found the monitors for the all the home surveillance cameras. She sat down to familiarize herself with them.

Back to the Lab with Mom

"Come with me," Peter's mother had said when she found him making coffee in the kitchen for Claire and himself.

He finished making the coffee and took a mug up to Claire. Then he returned downstairs and followed his mother. They again braved the elements across to the lab. They scuttled across the slippery walkway, the snow blown off it by the howling wind, his mother urgently unlocking the door into the secure annex. Peter followed as he sank into an obedient, resentful depression, as if his mind was resetting itself to an earlier part of his life. Inside she led him to the lab. The first thing she did was turn up the thermostat in the lab.

"Sit down my darling boy."

He sat on the edge of the exam table.

"Look at me."

He looked at his mother's face. He knew that she loved him.

"I loved your father. I loved your brother. I love you. I don't want to hurt you."

Tears welled up in his mother's eyes. She wiped the tear from her left eye with her finger and held it out to him.

"Taste it."

He leaned forward and kissed the tear from her finger. It was sweet, like pure sugar water. His mother wiped away a tear from her other eye with a different finger. He leaned forward once more and kissed it. He shrank away. It was bitter, more bitter than anything he had ever tasted.

"Your choice, Peter. You can come and work for me, be my partner, learn the business. I will save you from bankruptcy. You can even keep the girl if you want."

"And if I don't?"

"You will be penniless. I will cut you out of my will. And your girlfriend's genitals will smell like rotten meat for weeks, even if she leaves tomorrow. Which seems unlikely with this storm. She will blame you. Indeed, it will be your fault."

"Can I think about it?"

Peter could tell from his mother's face that this was not the reply she wanted.

"Very well. Right now I have some more work I need your help with. I need to test the effects of yesterday's food and drink. Up on the exam table, please. I need you for a blind taste test."

"Must I?"

"If you want the antidote to your girlfriend's meal, yes."

Peter climbed up on it and lay down in the center. His mother bent over and loosely fastened some straps.

"Just to keep you in position. Stop wriggling," she said, smiling at him.

He could see the desire building in his mother's face. He knew her motives for this exam were not primarily scientific. His mother put a blindfold on him, really just an airline sleep mask. Peter sat there, trying to think and blanking out what was about to happen. He just wanted it to be over.

"Are you comfortable?"

He nodded.

"First off, a semen sample."

"You just took one yesterday."

Peter's mother ignored him. She pulled herself onto the table and knelt beside him on the soft plastic cover. She bent over and untied his shoe laces, pulling his shoes off. She let him keep his socks on. Then she reached up, undid his belt, and pulled down his zipper.

"Lift up your bottom, Peetie."

He did so and she pulled down his pants, leaving them tangled around his ankles. She looked at his white boxers, an appealing lump in his crotch. She knew her son well enough to know that arousing him would be a problem. She would have been disappointed indeed to know how differently he responded to Claire.

"I just remembered. I have to do a baseline on me," said his mother.

His mother opened her lab coat, undid her pants and slipped them off. Then she pulled down her panties and crawled up to her son's head. She raised one knee, steadying herself with her hands on the table and swung a leg over the other side of Peter, straddling him above his face, careful not to put any weight on him. She gently lowered herself until her pussy was touching Peter's face.

"Taste me and tell me what you find."

Peter stuck out his tongue and his Mom smothered him with her crotch. He could not avoid it. His tongue found her opening and went a little way in. A rich tangy flavor of orange suffused his lips. She raised herself up away from him.

"Well?"

"Strong orange flavor."

"No chocolate?"

"No, just orange."

"Thank you." She unstraddled him and made a note on a pad which she took from her lab-coat pocket. He lay still with his blindfold on.

"OK. Semen sample."

She reached over to the side table and picked up a small vibrator. She switched it on and gently touched it against the bulge in Peter's shorts. The bulge started to get bigger, and she stroked it with her other hand as she worked on him. After a minute, she switched off the vibrator and pulled down his shorts. His cock sprang into view, quite hard but not as hard as she wanted it. She dipped down and took it in her mouth. She could taste a hint of what she was expecting already, but of course much more was lurking in Peter's balls, waiting to explode into her mouth. But not yet.

Now he was hard she climbed upon him again, straddling him lower down and with her hand guided his stiff cock into her waiting pussy, already dripping with fruity anticipation. Slowly she sat down on him, delighting once more as her son's cock pierced her and she half came just as he entered her. Then she lay forward on top of him, wriggling, with one hand on his cock's base to make sure he remained deeply inside her.

Peter lay there silently, unable to see, determined not to move, determined not to surrender his dignity. But he could not help it. He started to thrust, ever so slowly at first, his hands slipping down to his Mom's waist and grabbing it to make sure the resistance was there as he thrust inside her from his prone position. His mother knew how much Peter did not want to be her slave, and exulted as she felt him abandon his self-discipline to become an active participant in their fuck.

Peter got faster and his mother was thrown around on top of him as he pistoned into her, all restraint now gone. She was almost lost in delight, but she had to keep her head.

"Don't come in me, Peetie. Tell me when you are about to. It's very important," she said, breathlessly as the air was shoved out of her by her son's powerful thrusts.

A moment later he knew he was close.

"Now," he said through gritted teeth, his emotions running riot inside his fevered brain.

His mother pulled herself upwards, off him, and his sloppy hard cock emerged from her pussy. She backed up quickly on her hands and knees, still facing him. She took hold of his cock and shoved it in her mouth straight away, afraid that he would come outside her, all over the examination table. If that happened the experiment would be lost, but she was in time. As her mouth closed over his glans she could taste her own pussy juice which coated it, a rich orange fruit with perhaps a hint of mango. She ran her tongue around him and pumped his slippery shaft with her hand.

"I'm coming," he groaned.

She could feel the semen rise up his shaft, feel his glans swell, and then it was right there, jetting into her mouth. She let in a load, resisting the urge to swallow it down, using her tongue to mix it with what was already there. He was still cumming. Too much. She pulled his cock out of her mouth and the rest of his load squirted onto her face and neck, then ran down onto her bra. She ran her tongue around inside her mouth and knew she had made another leap forward. She moved up to where Peter was still lying, blindfolded, gasping as he recovered from his violent thrusting and orgasm.

His mother couldn't talk with her mouth full, so she gently inserted a slippery finger between his lips and he opened his mouth a little in reflex. Holding her head directly above his, Peter's mother opened her mouth and a long string of his own cum mixed with her own juices that had coated his cock dropped in slow motion into Peter's half open mouth.

The first he knew of it was when a thick fluid with a powerful taste of chocolate and orange entered his mouth. It was like a fine chocolate crème dessert in a top restaurant. He could not help but swallow it down as his mouth watered for more. His mother, seeing his reaction, bent down to his face and kissed him on the lips, her mouth opened in a French kiss as her tongue tangled with his and their mouths became a single orange and white chocolate flavor sensation. She swallowed some herself, but of course as his mother she let him have most of it.

Five minutes later Peter had recovered. His mother looked at him, sitting on the edge of the exam table, still in her lab-coat with no panties, swinging her legs.

"Well? What's your answer?"

"Very well. I'll join you," said Peter, full of self-loathing. "Now give me the antidote and let me get back to Claire."

His mother laughed. She slipped off the table, went over to a large refrigerator, and pulled open the door. She picked out a small plastic tub.

"Make sure she eats it today. Otherwise..."

He snatched it from her, grabbed his clothes and fled out into the freezing cold.

Endgame

Claire spent two hours in Peter's mother's security room, learning the systems, watching the screens. The one thing she wasn't worried about was being interrupted. The cameras did not seem to extend into the lab annex, but they had good coverage of the interior of the main house and the grounds. Drifting snow had transformed the property and Claire realized that her chances of making it back to NYC were slim, helicopter or no helicopter. That did not improve her mood. She watched Peter emerge from the annex and started to pack up, concealing her activities. Then she went down to greet him. They sat in the main room staring out at the snow and wind.

"I'm not going to make it back for my showing, am I?"

"I have a snack for you," said Peter, waving the tub at her.

Now, Claire had no real idea of what was going on, and certainly did not know that her boyfriend's family had developed technologies to alter the flavor of almost any bodily fluid. But she did know that Peter was being abused by his mother. That much was obvious.

"Peter, what's going on? I'm not hungry."

Peter was on the verge of breaking down.

"Please, please eat this. I can't explain," he said, his voice breaking.

"I'll only eat it if you tell me exactly what is going on."

He nodded. Claire looked at him hard, then took the tub and opened it. Vanilla pudding. She tasted it. Very nice. She ate it.

Peter collapsed on the sofa in relief.

"Now tell me everything."

So he did. She was silent, thinking, for a long time. Then she spoke.

"What happened to your brother? And your father?"

"I think they died accidentally, as a result of testing the flavor compounds. I'm sure it was the last thing my mother intended. Of course, the FDA knows nothing about any of this."

"I need to think, Peter."

She sat on the sofa quietly, considering things. Peter could see his relationship with Claire dying in front of his eyes. But he didn't really know his girlfriend very well.

When Peter's mother reappeared in the early evening, Claire made some excuses and left. It took her half an hour to accomplish her tasks, then she rejoined Peter and his mother in the main living room, set twenty feet above the sloping mountainside. Peter's mother was affable and jolly. Peter was nervously watching Claire. He marveled at her ability to absorb what he had told her without outrage. Perhaps she didn't believe him.

After an early evening snack Peter's mother announced that she had some work to do. When she left for her lab, Claire followed her, careful not to be observed. She followed Peter's mother through the house to the back room connected to the outside. Claire watched from the corridor as Peter's mother shed her jacket and put on her lab-coat, jangling the keys in her pocket to make sure they were there. Then she opened the door to the outside and scurried out into the snow and wind, pulling the door shut behind her. Claire rushed into the room and watched through the thick security glass in the door.

Thirty feet away Peter's mother fumbled with her key, trying to get it into the lock of the lab annex door. She tried and tried, but after two minutes in the bitterly cold wind she gave up. The reason the key would not work was because Claire had found it in the lab coat pocket and had bent it by five degrees, not enough to notice, but enough to render it useless. Claire drew back from the window to avoid being seen. She used a cloth in her pocket to drop the latch and lock the exterior door. When Peter's mother turned the knob and found it locked she let out a stream of curses and started banging on it. Claire left her to it.

Claire ran back through the house and up into Peter's mother's bedroom. She picked the lock to the side room and sat down in front of the security camera monitor screen. The garage doors were all locked, as were all the entrances to the house. Set into a steep slope most of the house was inaccessible from the ground, being set atop thick wooden pilings.