For The Gander

But he just couldn't bring himself to defy her. Not now. Not like this.

With a heavy heart, Jake went back to his tequila.

His mother did finish shedding the garment herself, though. Her hands worked quickly and deftly while she continued to bob back and forth on Lem's meat pole.

When the shirt finally fell to the floor, Jake's heart skipped a beat. Her lacy black bra was gorgeous, and contrasted wonderfully with her creamy white skin. The light freckles decorating her back and shoulders couldn't have been cuter. They took him by surprise, too, since she didn't have any on her face.

Somehow, it seemed scandalous for his mother to let him see that much flesh. That was ridiculous of course. The scandal was what she was doing with Lem, not that she'd taken her shirt off. Yet, while the rational part of his brain understood these things, some other part only knew that mothers didn't undress in front of their sons.

By the time Jake had poured himself a third glass of tequila, and his mother's glorious breasts had freed themselves from her bra. He couldn't stop staring at his mother's pink nipples, which were the size of the uppermost part of his pinky finger, or her perfectly sized dark areola, which were a few shades darker than the nipples themselves, or the heavy milk bags to which both were attached.

When his friend finally busted his nut, Jake only knew it by the sounds Lem made. His eyes remained glued to the breasts that had nourished him in his infancy.

Lem stumbled away from the redheaded goddess, looking more inebriated than Jake felt.

Without a word, Jake's mother reached back, grabbed the glass out of Jake's fingers, and washed Lem's cum down with its contents. She smacked her lips, sighed heavily afterwards, then handed the glass back to him with a grateful smile.

"You like them, do you?" she asked, noticing him staring at her chest. She cupped one heavy breast in a hand that was woefully ill-equipped for the task of supporting such weight.

"Could say that," Jake said, forcing himself to look away at last.

"Would you like to see your friend play with them?" she asked. Her green eyes turned to Lem. "What do you say, tiger?"

Jake clenched his jaw tight. For a moment there, he'd thought she was going to ask if he wanted to play with them. That was stupid of him, though. She was having a little fun, pushing the bounds of propriety, but that didn't mean she was going to violate the strongest taboo known to man. He just had to accept that.

Lem progressed from sucking on her beautiful tits to kissing his way down her stomach and then across each hip. When he finished, he slipped her shorts and panties off, then went to work on her thighs, working his way slowly up to her treasure.

Jake watched in fascination as Lem brought his mother to climax in a fraction of the time it had taken her to do the same for him. Whether that was testament to his friend's skills with cunnilingus or his mother's ability to let herself go completely, he wasn't sure. But either way, he was definitely impressed.

At first, it had been impossible for him to satisfy Katie through oral sex. Then she'd encouraged him to read up on it. A few hours on the internet gave way to a small collection of books and couple's videos on female orgasm, cunnilingus, the G-spot, and female ejaculation. Apparently, the main reason most women had trouble reaching climax wasn't because of anything their partners did wrong, but because they weren't comfortable enough. Technique definitely made a difference, though. In time, Katie started to enjoy having Jake go down on her. Perhaps because he'd gotten better at giving head, or perhaps because she'd found it easier to relax. One way or another, oral sex had become an integral part of their lovemaking. But even so, he didn't think he could get Katie off nearly as fast as Lem had his mother.

Before long, Jake was stroking himself openly.

First, his mother had laid flat on the floor while Lem knelt above her and fucked her missionary style. Then he'd climbed up on the couch, not twelve inches from Jake, and had her ride him cowgirl. Jake could have sworn he hadn't drawn a breath for four or five minutes straight as he watched them, utterly enchanted.

Once Jake's mother reached a monster orgasm, the kind Jake wished he could coax out of Katie, he thought for sure that the fun was over.

She was going to leave him high and dry after all. Of course she was. He'd always known that it had to be that way. Why did he keep letting himself believe that maybe things would get even more depraved? That she would fool around with her own son? Putting on a naughty little show for him was one thing, but some lines just couldn't be crossed.

"Just give me a minute to catch my breath, kay?" she asked Lem. "I'll be right back."

Before walking past Jake, she bent down and kissed him on the forehead.

Knowing full well that it could spell the end of a very special evening, but so overcome with lust that he just couldn't help himself, he grabbed his mother by the backs of her thighs and pulled her down into his lap.

She laughed giddily as he did. Anchoring herself with hands atop his shoulders, she straddled his hips and settled herself in. His hard cock pressed against her belly.

He stared up into her impossibly green eyes for a moment, unable to believe he had her on top of him. Then Jake tried to kiss his mother full on the mouth.

His mother's hands slid quickly from his shoulders to the back of his head and she guided his face down to her chest. Pressed him right between her lovely breasts. As she her hands through her hair, she said, "Nice try, kiddo." Then she leaned down, kissed the top of his head, and climbed back to her feet.

He gave her fat ass a playful slap as she left, but that was all he got.

However, he did notice that his rebellious little gesture earned him a devilish grin rather than a reproachful glare. The same look Katie gave him when she was playing hard to get.

"Dude," Lem said. "Are you serious?"

"I know," Jake said. "I can't believe her either."

"Well, sure, her too," he said. "But I meant you. You really want to fuck your mom?"

Jake didn't reply.

"Fuck," Lem said. "I thought you just wanted to see how far she'd take things. Like a deer caught in headlights or some shit. But you...this is seriously fucked up."

He couldn't really say anything to that. Lem was right. But he wasn't about to stop.

"I mean, if you make a move, I won't do anything to stop you. I don't think I could get off this train if I tried. But, damn, I hope that ain't where this is going."

"Probably isn't," Jake said. "She keeps slapping me down."

His friend gave him an incredulous look. "And you think that means she don't want it?"

Jake snatched up the bottle of tequila and tossed it to Lem. "Drown your inhibitions."

Lem snickered, but without a word of protest, he unscrewed the cap and took a swig straight from the bottle. And then another. And another.

Before Jake got a chance to reflect on his friend's words, his mother returned. Wearing more clothes. Well, a pair of fuck-me red pumps, sheer black thigh highs, and a lacy black garter trimmed with red ribbon. Not exactly a sign that she wanted to call it quits. The rest of her ultra-feminine form was still on full display.

Jake took a moment to drink her in.

She looked damn good naked, and better still in stockings and heels. Her legs were well-muscled, but not to the point that they looked masculine. They were shapely and soft where they should be, but firm in all the right places. Her hips were nice and broad. Birthing hips, as his grandmother sometimes said. Yet she had a flat belly and a surprisingly narrow waist. Her breasts...fuck, he could stare at those natural wonders for hours. And though both the alcohol and the general prurient atmosphere may have played a role, Jake found his mother's face prettier and prettier every time he looked at it. He loved every feature, every last line and contour. That included her crow's feet, thank you very much.

"Okay, big boy, here's the moment of truth," his mother said to Lem.

Oh, fuck. This was it. To hell with social taboos.

"If you promise to be gentle, I'd like to have that spear of yours buried deep in my bowels." She said it so casually. "Whaddaya say?"

Lem looked stunned for a moment.

Jake felt the same way himself. Her "moment of truth" was that?

"Anal?" Jake said, more to himself than his mother.

"Yes, sweetie," she nonetheless replied. "Grownups sometimes get tired of playing the same game over and over again."

"I-" he started, standing up.

Lem grabbed the bottle of lube. "Promise."

"Great," she said. Then, turning to him, she added, "Jake, sweetie, if you don't think you can watch this part, that's okay. I'll drive Lem home when we're finished."

So that was really it. He'd been right all along. Why did he let Lem convince him that his mother wanted to fuck him too? Why did he let himself tell that story?

"No, that's okay," Jake said, feeling numb. "I'm good."

"You sure?" she asked, stepping over to him and pressing a hand down to his cheek.

He rested a hand on her hip, daring not venture further. Thankfully, she allowed that.

"Yes," he said. "I can't stop watching you."

A wicked smile spread across her gorgeous face. "I've noticed."

It took all his willpower to resist the urge to try kissing her again. Still, his lips burned for her, so he pressed them gently against her cheek. As he did, she lightly raked her nails through his scalp and cooed. Then, just before she stepped away, she reached down and slid the palm of her hand across the length of his shaft.

For a moment, Jake was too stunned to react.

She'd touched him. His mother's hand had tenderly, affectionately, swept over his cock.

It was too much. The orgasm he'd been holding back for so long overwhelmed him.

His mother laughed even as she was climbing down onto all fours. "Glad you've enjoyed yourself," she said in a self-satisfied tone.

Past tense. And without "so far" tacked on to the end.

Blooding coursing hot through his veins, Jake went to the bathroom the clean himself up. He came back with a paper towel for the mess he'd left on the floor.

When he returned, he found his mother down on all fours, Lem kneeling behind her, thrusting his fat cock in and out of her puckered anus. He stared dumbfounded as his friend thrust back and forth rapidly, all the while squeezing and slapping his mother's ass mercilessly. Despite the punishment she was receiving, his mother seemed to be in heaven. If Lem was going too hard on her, you'd never know it by the look of pure bliss on her face.

"Fuck," Jake whispered to himself.

Her high-pitched whimpers, the way she thrust her hips back at Lem, impaling herself on his thick cock, and the knots of tension at the corners of her jaw all seemed to say that while it was an incredibly intense experience, she was having the time of her life.

It was more than he could take. Jake had to be a part of this. Just had to.

He went to his knees and presented his cock to her. At first, she didn't notice. But when she finally opened her eyes again, they went wide as saucers and she jerked her head back.

Jake ran a hand through his mother's beautiful red-brown hair. "Go on," he said.

"We can't," she. "This is wrong."

He pushed his dick closer to her lips.

Her eyes left his, focusing on his fat cock. When she licked her lips, he knew he had her.

A moment later, she engulfed him. And while his friend violated her ass hole, his mother gave him the best blow job of his life. It was every bit as good as he'd expected it be after watching her with Lem, and then some, despite the fact that she was distracted by the intense stimulation she was receiving from behind.

From there, they took turns fucking her, usually while she sucked the other one off. Eventually, though, his mother took things to the next level and asked Jake to fill her ass while she rode Lem. Both boys had balked at that, but after a little coaxing, a little tequila, and a few kisses, she talked them into it.

In the past, Jake had thought that double-penetration was something porn directors invented to satisfy the ever more extreme demands of their disturbingly sadistic male audience. But perhaps that was only if it was done wrong. Or only because the women who performed that depraved act on screen rarely wanted to do so. But his mother set the pace, and after a slow start, really, really got into it. She rode the two of them to a most intense climax. One that swept them along with her. The three of them jerked and spasmed and swore in unison as the two boys filled Jake's mother to overflowing with their jizz.

Then it was over.

The whole affair had lasted for hours, but it felt like a matter of minutes.

Of course, if he had all of eternity to relive that moment, it might not have been enough for Jake. It, or any of the others that had preceded it. Never before had he realized how enjoyable sex could be. And he'd always been a fan. It was the most incredible experience of his young life.

He had fucked his mother. Every which way from Sunday.

Nothing could ever top that.

#

"That's not really what you were out to dinner, is it?" Bill asked his daughter.

"Why not?" Evie asked, staring down at her obnoxiously tight, scandalously short skirt. At least her top was almost modest. A mere one or two sizes too small.

"Honey," he said.

"Dad, I'm not a child anymore."

"Can we pretend you are? Just for one night?" he asked. "Put on some pants and I promise I won't even ask if you're seeing any boys."

Evie rolled her eyes, let out an exasperated sigh, then skipped off down the hall.

If that gave him a tantalizing view of her incredible ass, well that was just an unintended consequence. It had to be.

Bill took his glassed off and mopped his brow. A few short hours of helping his sister box things up and he felt like he'd slaved the day away in the fields. How could the girl have so much stuff? And why wasn't any of it ready to go yet?

Throughout their labors, his daughter had been flirting with him shamefully. Well, not by the standards of what she'd consider shameful, no doubt. But it had been enough to make him want to cry. Or take a bathroom break to relieve himself.

It didn't mean anything. She was at that age where sex was on her mind all the time, and she was only just now discovering the true extent of how much power her sexuality gave her over men. Girls started to learn that lesson the moment they hit puberty, no doubt. But Bill had to imagine that up through high school, they mostly only thought it worked on their peers and the odd pervie young teacher. Only in college did they realize that their bodies could get them out of far more than homework they didn't want to do.

At least, that was what he imagined. No doubt his wife would tell him he was naive. That girls understood how closely their lot in life was tied to their ability to arouse men's desires from a very early age. That it was drilled into them from cradle to grave.

No doubt, she was right. To some degree. But he still had to believe that his daughter had retained some innocence until now. Maybe even a few drops still.

Fathers just didn't have the ability to see their daughters any other way. Even those fathers who looked at their daughters in the most depraved ways.

Fuck, but the girl had a nice body.

Mel had never had a body like that. Even before she'd put on weight and later started working out to take said weight off. Not in her prime, and not since, when she'd reached something of a second peak. She was still an attractive woman, to be sure. Hadn't put on nearly as much weight as most of his friends' wives, and to look at her face, you'd think she was much younger than she was. Long hours in the gym in recent years had flattened her stomach and brought her waist back to within a few inches of what it had been on their wedding day. Her ass and thighs were still a good deal larger than they'd been before she had kids, though. As were her breasts. And unlike her thighs and ass, which had at least grown reasonably firm of late, her breasts only got saggier and saggier as time went by.

Some of his friends envied him. Told him that Mel looked like Christina Hendricks, only better. That might be so, but Christina Hendricks didn't do too much for him, so the idea that he had a celebrity lookalike for a wife was small consolation.

His little cocktease, though. She was incredibly thin. Not disgustingly so, like supermodels. Just pleasantly so. Her legs were sleek, lightly curved with trim muscles, and her waist was small enough that he could encircle it with his hands, with room to spare. Her breasts were perfect. They were nice and firm, sitting high on her chest, even though she clearly wasn't wearing a bra. Couldn't have been more than a handful. No less either, mind. Supple, feminine, but not too soft. Despite how trim the rest of her frame was, she had the nicest little bubble butt. If it had been smaller, he wouldn't have minded, but he couldn't pretend it held no appeal for him. It wasn't nearly as big as her mother's, yet it was no less round and heart-shaped. The way it jutted out behind her, without sagging towards the ground in the least, made him long for her so bad that it hurt. Damn, but she must be driving all the poor college boys crazy with that little treasure.

And her face?

There had ever been a more beautiful face. Not on any woman in any land in any time. His little Evie had perfect cheekbones and full lips, with the upper forming a delicious cupid's bow. Her eyes were oversized and deep brown, nearly black. Her skin was as fair as her mother's, but without the slightest imperfection. She had just the tiniest bit of baby fat, making her look younger than she was. Her long lashes and exquisite brows, slender nose and cute little ears, were beyond perfect.

Then there was her hair. It fell halfway down her back, a perfect sheet of individual strands, each straight as an arrow. It was black as pitch, glossy as enamel, and tantalizingly thick. And it smelled delightful. He'd gotten a little too close once, for just a second, and her scent had coaxed a few drops of precum out of his stiff cock.

The poor little guy had been summoned for duty and asked to stand at attention for hours on end, without any relief. It was absolutely cruel.

Bill slammed the heel of one hand against his head before donning his glasses once more.

He absolutely should not be noticing these things. And if he did, it should have only been in passing. How could he be standing there, dwelling on them? Cataloguing his daughter's virtues in comparison to his wife?

Running the latest round of emails from work though his head in hopes of killing his erection, Bill quickly changed out of his sweat-soaked shirt and into a fresh button-down.

"Better?" Evie asked, strutting down the hall of her apartment in the tightest pair of jeans you ever did see. If he looked closely enough, he suspected he'd see a camel toe. But, somehow, he managed to resist the temptation.

"I suppose so," he said, with a bemused laugh.

Her jeans could not possibly have been any tighter. Not even if they were leggings. She might as well just have dipped herself in a vat of paint.

"Okay, then," she said, looping an arm in his. "Off we go." Then, with a wicked grin, she added, "I should warn you, though. I'm not a cheap date."

#

The soft silk felt smooth in her hands. But the dress wasn't Evie's color. Or her size. She sighed and moved on down the rack.

"We can keep looking as long as you like," her mother said. "It's nice to have some mother-daughter time again. But don't you think we have enough?"