Homelands Pt. 01 Ch. 11

Part One

Chapter Eleven

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You might want to read Chapters One through Ten first.

This is primarily an incest story, but it is also sci-fi/fantasy. Supernatural forces play a prominent role throughout the novel.

All characters are over eighteen. All acts are consensual.

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I looked up from my computer screen as Tara, the Executive Manager, walked by. Suddenly, filing tax returns was the farthest thing from my mind. She wore a khaki skirt that, despite reaching almost to her knees and in that sense being nominally professional, also tightly hugged her hips and round ass. Her black blouse had only one button open, but was also absurdly tight. It did nothing to hide the way her full breasts bounced as she walked.

Jack, the one attorney on the payroll, looked over at me from the opposite cubicle. "Only good thing about working here," he said. "Even the management is smoking hot. If only they wore the same outfits the models did."

I lowered my voice. "You said it, man."

The three models, Brianna, Natalie and Skye, were all amazing. And, as Jack said, the management types were no harder on the eyes. Besides Tara, there was Iva, the VP of Design; the Senior Vice President, Ellen, who was a VP only in the sense that she was married to the President and liked to feel involved; and Cindy, the administrative assistant, who really ran the place.

The women came in a decent variety of shapes and sizes, though all were attractive enough. There were younger women and more mature ones. There were brunettes, blondes, and redheads. Most of the women were breathtakingly pale. Some guys weren't into that, but it really did it for me. But some were not fair-skinned. Natalie often tanned, and Skye was half-black. Some were short, most average height, and Skye was pretty tall. Some were very thin. Some were top-heavy. Some had great lower bodies. A few even had the full package.

All in all, going to work provided plenty to fantasize about. But I couldn't fully agree with Jack that this was the best thing about working there. It was almost impossible to get work done with that bevy of beauties parading around the office.

"Too bad she's also a raging bitch though," Jack said, still referring to Tara. "Sometimes, I wish I could take out the stick that's been shoved up her ass. Replace it with something else, long as I'm at it."

"A-fucking-men to that. On both counts."

Just then, my phone rang. Jack looked like he'd been about to elaborate on what he'd like to do to Tara, but covered his mouth and mouthed an apology.

It was Ellen. Unsurprisingly, she wanted to see me in her office. I assured her I'd be right up, dropped the phone back in its cradle, and swore under my breath. They'd been riding me hard about annual financial report for weeks. It wasn't even September yet. A whole month left in the fiscal year. I prepared myself to do my best "yes, ma'am"ing.

But as soon as I got to her office on the executive level, I realized I'd been mistaken somehow. Her blinds were closed. They were never closed. Perhaps she didn't want to talk about the annual report after all.

Heart racing, I opened the door to her office, which was also never closed.

Ellen sat atop her desk, one leg folded over the other. Her thighs could not be that thick. Not on a woman with that frame. It just didn't make sense. Her waist-to-hip ratio was, I felt sure, literally impossible. Like Tara, her black skirt and brick red blouse covered everything they should cover, but were stretched almost to the limit by her mind-boggling curves.

"Thanks for coming. Mind closing the door?" A shoe dangled from one of her pretty little feet, propped up by her toes. Her calf muscles rippled underneath her stockings.

I did as she asked.

Ellen tossed her inky black hair over her shoulder. I was pretty sure she was at least twenty years my senior, but you'd never know it unless you stared real closely. As, of course, I often did. There were slight hints of age at the corners of her eyes and her mouth, but her hair was as glossy and vibrant as a younger woman's, and her skin was firm. She either wore miraculously effective bras or gravity had not yet caught up to her enormous melons.

"...so I guess what I'm asking is how comfortable you are with keeping a secret."

"Perfectly comfortable," I said.

"Well, that was incredibly reassuring." Ellen slipped off the desk. "Let's come at this from a different angle."

"Okay...."

She unbuttoned the second button of her blouse. "Do you find me attractive?"

"I assume that's a rhetorical question."

She smiled. "Indulge me."

"Your husband is a very lucky man," I said.

"Maybe. But he doesn't seem to think so. Hasn't paid any attention to me in forever."

"That's a shame," I said, keeping my voice flat.

She smiled wanly. "In fact, he's having an affair. I'm not even sure he cares if I know that he's been balling his secretary for months now. And probably not just her. I've seen how he looks at Iva. So I've started looking elsewhere myself. I've cheated on him more than a few times. But, so far, not with anyone he knew."

"Good for you," I said.

"And for you. If you want it to be," she said.

I didn't reply. But I very deliberately made sure that my body language did not provide even the slightest hint of nerves. I wanted her to think that I could take it or leave it.

"Okay, so here's the plan. Tonight, after work, there are going to be some stiff dicks inside me. Yours can be one of them. Or you can just watch on your computer, since I'll be using a webcam. Or maybe you want to watch for a while first, then join. Whatever.

"Either way, you should stay in the office late and wait for my email. If you decide that jerking off in your office while watching me be a filthy slut is enough for you, that's fine. But I do hope that you decide to join."

"I'll keep that in mind," I said.

"Hopefully I'll see you later on then," she said, buttoning up her blouse once more.

"Maybe. We'll see what kind of mood I'm in," I said.

My back already turned, I couldn't see what I was sure was a priceless look on her face. But the exasperated huff and mumbled curses told me all I needed to know.

#

As I sat at my desk waiting for the email to arrive, something nagged at me. It wasn't just that it was the boss's wife. That was fine with me, even though it shouldn't have been. Something else that had my palms slick with sweat, my foot tapping incessantly.

I couldn't say what it was though.

That is, until the email finally arrived and I clicked on the link. As I watched the blurry image of a woman being spit-roasted by two gigantic black cocks, it came to me.

Ellen was my mother.

I wasn't sure how I knew at first. And then I couldn't figure out how I hadn't known.

Weirdly, I was still hard as a rock.

I wasn't proud of that. But the truth was, it turned me on even more.

On some level, I felt like I would be just as disgusting and fucked-up a person if I sat there and jerked off while watching my mother get tag-teamed by the twins as I would be if I went upstairs and joined in. But of course that was crazy. However weird it was to be turned on by watching it, and it was weird, there was no way that compared to participating.

It wasn't guilt then that made me decide to stay at my desk, even though I'd been planning all evening on joining in.

Perhaps part of it was that I didn't feel like trying to compete with the twins, Vince and Ismail. They made the guys that populated most women's fantasies look bland. Much as I'd like to pretend I didn't find them intimidating, I absolutely did.

Even so, my other motivation, the one I told myself was the most prominent one, was to play hard to get. It had seemed to work well earlier. So I figured that the odds were that if I played my cards right, I'd have her all to myself later that night.

And horny as fuck to boot.

I had no interest in pretending that did not appeal to me either. I felt like I should be surprised, or disgusted, or at least mildly ashamed. But I felt none of those things. I wanted to fuck my mother, and I didn't care in the least whether that made me a horrible person.

#

I decided to wait around for no more than ten minutes after the show ended. But it turned out that was more than enough time. About three minutes after her camera went black, a message appeared in my inbox.

From Mom, of course.

My stomach clenched as I opened it.

The message was brief. "Hope you don't leave before checking this. If you're even still here. Meet me in the hotel lobby, 15 mins? Ellen."

Bingo.

So I drove across the street to the hotel and went and found an open table in the bar in the lobby. I was a little early so I decided to have a drink. Take the edge off my nerves a little. Not that I expected it to help much.

I couldn't believe what I was about to do. It was insane. Revolting.

And so incredibly exciting, I almost couldn't bear it.

A few minutes after we were supposed to meet, Mom arrived. She wore an overcoat that left nothing but her stockinged calves and heels visible.

"Hi," she said as she walked up to the table. "This seat taken?"

I chuckled, gestured for her to sit.

She took the coat off, revealing a sensible business ensemble. A black skirt, less form-fitting than usual, and a blue blouse worn over a black undershirt. The blouse was also looser than she often wore. Not that I hadn't seen exactly what she had to hide just a little while earlier. Was I wrong about what she had in mind for this little get together?

Maybe she'd remembered as well?

The waiter darted over to our table without appearing to be in a hurry. Mom ordered a frozen margarita, thanked him with a smile, then turned her large brown eyes to me.

"So," she said.

"So. You had something you wanted to tell me?"

"We'll get to that. But I'm going to follow your lead and have a bit to drink first."

"Fair enough," I said. "By the way, that's a nice blouse."

She raised her eyebrows. Those thick beauties made her skin appear all the fairer.

I cleared my throat.

"Sorry," she said, adjusting her blouse nervously. "Thanks." She slipped down from the stool, picked her handbag up. "Excuse me. Be back in a minute," she said before heading for the bathroom.

She returned a few minutes later, wearing more makeup than before.

Interesting.

She knew, I was sure. And her conservative outfit seemed like a sign that she wanted to cover up what had happened, or to keep me from having illicit thoughts about her. But she still felt the need to go pretty herself up.

Her drink arrived shortly after she returned, and she polished off most of it in one gulp. "Okay," she said, drawing a deep breath.

But despite that ice-breaking comment, she remained silent for a time. Just sat there, emptying her drink rapidly. At last, when little more than one good sip remained, she said, "About earlier."

"Yes."

"There's something you should know." She slurped up the rest of her drink, then stared into the bottom of her glass as she stirred the foamy remains with the straw. "I assume you were watching the whole time, yes?"

"Safe assumption," I said, voice flat.

Her voice dropped. "I...don't ask me how I didn't realize this earlier...did you know," she stopped, ran her hands through her glossy hair. "I don't know how to say this." She looked up from her drink, her eyes wide, lip quivering. "You see, Frank-"

"I know. Okay? I knew the whole time. Well, not when you first asked me if I was interested, but I knew what I was beating off to, sitting there alone at my cubicle."

Her eyes went wide.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I shouldn't have watched. Or shouldn't have kept watching, once I'd realized. But, honestly, it was really, really fucking hot. That's pretty much all I can say. I know how that must sound. That's just about the last thing I should have been thinking. But that's really all there is to it, and I'm afraid that if I forced myself to apologize for it, it would be a shameless lie, so I'm not going to bother."

She licked her lips. But I didn't need that, the sudden rush of blood to her cheeks or the dilation of her pupils, let alone a verbal reply, to know that she was aroused.

Without realizing this was even possible, I sensed it on some metaphysical level.

My head spun, and not from the one light beer. Might as well push the chips in at this point. Lowering my voice even further, I said, "Look, we can put on a show of being shocked and disgusted. Maybe we'll even manage to half-way convince ourselves. But we've both tipped our hands already. What do you say we skip the theatrics and get a room. We can worry about being ashamed of ourselves later. But you and I both know that's exactly what we want to happen right now. So why resist it?"

She stared directly into my eyes, drew a deep breath, but still did not speak a word.

Continuing, I said, "I'm not the least bit ashamed, to be perfectly honest. And I don't think you are either. All I can think about is how badly I want to have you to myself. I know that I should be ashamed. But, fuck it. That's all I have to say."

Mom slid forward in her chair. "Okay," she said at last. "I can't believe I'm saying this. But yeah, let's do it. Who cares how wrong it is."

I smiled, dropped a few bills on the table, gathered up her coat for her, and headed towards the check-in sign over the reception desk. After that was taken care of, I walked over to the bar and ordered a bottle of wine. Mom smiled at me approvingly.

We barely spoke a word on the way to the room. Didn't need to. It was obvious that we were both thinking the same things.

I fumbled with the key card, hands shaking, and let us inside. Then I dropped off the bottle and Mom's coat, grabbed the ice bucket, and told her I'd be right back.

When I returned with some ice to keep the wine chilled, I found Mom in a sexy little outfit. If there was a word for the garment she wore, I didn't know it. It was all black, part lace and part silk. It consisted of a bow-tie, a skimpy bra, and panties with frilly scraps of fabric over her hips in imitation of the tiniest skirt ever made. All three pieces were connected by narrow straps. In addition, she wore sheer black gloves with tiny bows on the backs of them and sheer black stockings that went most of the way up her full thighs. The black patent-leather heels were the same as before, but nothing else was.

I cat-called as I walked into the room. "Nice getup."

Mom blushed. "Thanks. I thought you might like it."

"You could say that. If you wanted to seriously, seriously understate things."

She stood up from the edge of the bed, approaching me slowly. I placed the ice on the counter and hurriedly thrust the bottle of wine in. When Mom reached me, she stretched her arms out and slid her fingers over my chest. She was a good deal shorter than me, though I wasn't the tallest guy around. I leaned down, tilted her head back with one curled finger under her chin, and kissed her full lips. After a few moments, she pulled away, panting. "I can't believe we're doing this."

"I've never wanted anything more," I said.

"Me either. But this is so wrong."

"That's part of what makes it so hot."

"I know. You're right. But still. Should we just go back to pretending we're not related?"

"No," I said. "Absolutely not."

Mom nodded. "No, of course not."

"I want to fuck you as your son, a grown man. Those roles are not mutually exclusive."

One of her hands slid down my chest, over my hard abs, continuing its descent until her palm rubbed my hard shaft through my slacks. "Obviously not." Then she stood on her tiptoes and we kissed again. Her tongue was more adventurous this time. After our lips parted, she asked, "What's going on?"

"Um, I think we're about to fuck each other silly."

"That's not what I'm talking about. I mean, why didn't we know? Why does it seem like the world isn't real? How is it that we can sense things we shouldn't be able to sense, can change how we look, what we're wearing?"

I understood her words. But it didn't really resonate.

"You haven't noticed?"

I scratched my head. "Guess I have."

"It's not just us. I can't help but think that Ismail and Vince are family too."

"That doesn't even make sense. You know, since they're-"

Mom rolled her eyes. "Please, Frank. They're obviously bi-racial."

"So you think you had twins from a-"

She shook her head. "They're not mine. I think they're my...nephews?"

"So Liz had children that weren't Jim's?" I asked.

She shrugged. "No, not Liz. I'm not sure if she's involved in this. I guess she probably is." She furrowed her brow. "For that matter, I wonder why she isn't here. Seems like the rest of the family is. Including her daughter."

"Who's her daughter?" I asked.

"That would be Brianna. And you know that Dom, Todd and Natalie are your siblings, right? And I think Cindy and Iva are your father's sisters."

"Are you sure?" I asked. "That doesn't sound right."

She nodded, more emphatically than before. "No, I'm sure it is. I don't know how I could have forgotten. That's really weird."

I shrugged. "I guess I'll take your word for it."

She stared into my eyes. God, those brown beauties were to die for. Her face hardly matched her age. There were some hints of maturity, but she was still incredibly beautiful. She had such long lashes, thick brows and plump, red lips that accentuated her astonishingly white skin every bit as much as her raven black tresses did.

To say nothing of her unreal figure. In comparison to her broad hips and enormous breasts, her waist seemed positively tiny. Her stomach was flat, if not tight or toned. And that skimpy outfit drew attention to all the right places.

In between nibbles of my earlobe, Mom whispered, "Something has taken over our whole family. Something unnatural. We should be trying to figure out what."

I kissed the top of her head. "We should, should we?"

She moaned. The vibration of her throat pressed against my shoulder sent a tingling sensation down my spine. "Maybe not now. But yes, we should."

"Okay, later."

"Later," she agreed.

"After I ravage you, then slowly and tenderly make love to every inch of your body with my mouth before fucking you like a wild animal all over again."

"Yes, after that," she said.

I gathered my mother up in my arms, lifting her from the ground. She wrapped those wickedly curved legs around my waist. I fondled her ass as I carried her over to the bed. Then I dropped her on it and fumbled with my belt while Mom ran her palms over my abs. The task was made more difficult by her legs, wrapped tight around the backs of my thighs, pulling me towards her. Finally, I got my pants and boxers down around my ankles, and pulled my throbbing cock out. I lined it up, pushed it past her sopping wet folds. Her walls retreated slowly, allowing me back into her womb. Fuck, she was tight.

"Ungh. Yes, baby. Give it to me. To hell with foreplay."

I held her legs up with my hands tucked behind her knees and fucked her furiously. Her breasts shook violently. So violently, in fact, that it was a wonder that they didn't spill out of her bra. She clutched onto me, nails digging in my shoulders and back, heels scratching my thighs. My thrusts grew more vigorous still and she had to throw one hand about behind her to keep her balance. As she did, I leaned back. Our torsos formed a V. My every thrust provided direct stimulation to the spongy flesh of her G-spot.

The pleasure was so intense, by rights, I should have burst inside her within a minute or two. Clearly, the same went for Mom, because she did. But we kept going, and she rolled right from one orgasm into another. Often squirting as she did. Still I kept up the insane pace, knowing that if we were normal humans, we'd both have collapsed long since.