Homelands Pt. 03 Ch. 06

"I don't know. I don't mean to," I said. "I can't lie to you though. Something about him just bugs me. Not sure what or why. But, at any rate, it's not deliberate."

"You sure it's not that he's got my mother while you're stuck with me?" she asked.

"Don't be ridiculous," I said.

Except the minute she said it, I felt a deep sense of relief. Like I'd scratched an itch I'd been trying to reach for hours. Or finally sneezed after several false alarms.

For all that I was sure it was right, it still made no sense. I couldn't really be jealous of Bobby because of Ellen. She wasn't a bad looking woman, for her age, but damn.

"Well, I wasn't lying about being tired," Brianna said, rolling back over so we could spoon again. "Sorry. Makeup sex will have to wait until morning."

I laughed. "I'm just glad we cleared that up."

She moaned softly as I planted a trail of kisses down the side of her head, across her neck, and over her shoulder. But they were fleeting, superficial kisses. Kisses of affection, not seduction. And her moan was a moan of lazy contentment rather than excitement.

Sure enough, she was asleep not five minutes later.

I tried to fall asleep myself, but I couldn't. Which wasn't necessarily unusual, since I was even more of a night owl than Brianna was, and she herself was no morning person.

But part of why I couldn't sleep was that I couldn't stop thinking about Ellen.

Could my mother-in-law still be awake? What if I went down to the kitchen? Just to get a drink, of course. If I happened to run into her, well, it was her house. Who was I to question her comings and goings? Maybe Brianna had mentioned that her mother didn't often sleep through the night, but maybe I'd forgotten that.

Still, I waited nearly a half hour, lying there alone in bed with my thoughts, before deciding to go through with it.

Just getting a drink, of course. A little Scotch to help me sleep.

When I found the kitchen empty, it was both a relief and a disappointment. I tried not to make much noise as I rummaged through the liquor cabinet.

But if I really wanted to behave myself, I'd have taken my Scotch back to the bedroom and drank it there, in the dark, rather than sitting at the kitchen table with it. And if I was going to drink it in the kitchen, I wouldn't have nursed it. Or topped myself off after finishing half of it. There was no denying, even to myself, that I was trying to draw things out, so as to maximize the chance of "accidentally" running into Ellen.

Which, sure enough, eventually worked. After about an hour.

"Hey, you," she whispered, as she swept into the kitchen. "What are you doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep," I said.

I hoped it wasn't obvious how much I appreciated her skimpy negligee. Probably was though. God, what a sick fuck I was. She was old, and out of shape. Yet, there I was, checking her out. Shamelessly.

She wasn't old, though. Nor in particularly bad shape.

Not even to begin with. And definitely not now.

Not now?

She'd changed quite a bit in the few hours since I'd last seen her. Even though that made absolutely no sense at all.

She still wasn't exactly thin. Especially in the hips and thighs. To say nothing of her generous T and A. But overall, she definitely had slimmed down. It was clear in her face, neck, waist, arms, and, well, everything that shouldn't be round and soft. On top of that, her hair was almost entirely black again. Except for those delightful red highlights. The silver and gray that had been plentiful before was almost completely gone.

That was all strange enough. People didn't shed years and pounds when they slept. But if you only noticed those things, and hadn't seen her earlier or didn't know her age, you'd think she looked real enough. My mother-in-law shouldn't have looked the way the woman standing before me did, but there were women who did.

Or so it seemed at first glance.

When I looked closer, though, I realized the truth was more complicated.

For one thing, her thighs were as smooth as marble. Even a woman who was in her thirties, as Ellen somehow now appeared to be, would have had more than a little cellulite. Especially with thighs that thick. But she had none. At all.

Moreover, though she wasn't wearing a bra now, her massive breasts still sat much higher on her chest, and were shaped more like bowling balls and less like torpedoes, than made any sense. If she actually was in her thirties, that wouldn't have been as absurd as it was given that she was supposed to be in her fifties. But at just about any age, it was at least a little odd, taking their size into account. They obviously weren't implants though. There was definitely some sag going on, and the way they bounced when she walked suggested a fluidity not commonly found in silicone. Fuck, they were glorious. Divine, even.

"Me either," she said.

I almost asked what she meant, but then I remembered.

"Brianna said you were a Scotch drinker. Is that a good one? I told Bobby not to go crazy, but I told him not to get the cheapest bottle either."

I laughed. That was my mother's way of doing things too. When in doubt, pick something in the middle of the price range. She refused to buy the cheapest version of anything, even when it was clear that all she was paying for was a brand label. Yet neither would she go top of the line, even if we could have afforded it.

"It's fine. Besides, they can get really expensive. Hundred, hundred fifty a bottle."

"Really? I hope you get a trip to Scotland and a tour of the distillery with that too."

I laughed.

"Can I try some?" she asked.

I shrugged. "If you want. It's an acquired taste. And this one is pretty peaty."

"Peaty?" she snickered. "You know, it took me a few months to get used to Bobby saying that he liked his beers hoppy. I kept thinking he'd hop around the kitchen if he had a few." She shook her head. "You boys and your drinks. I bet you like to make fun of wine snobs, too. Do you really think you're any better?"

"Well, manlier, at any rate."

"Hmm. Well, I won't argue with that," she said.

My heart started beating faster.

She'd definitely just given me the once over. Same as I'd done when she walked in.

I looked down and noticed for the first time that I too was wearing a supernaturally young and sexy body. Though my twenties weren't far behind me, I hadn't looked this good then. Not by a long, long shot. I'd always been stocky, if not quite overweight. And I was still bulky, but now it was all solid muscle. I wasn't so ridiculously cut as to look like a greased up anatomy chart, the way professional bodybuilders did, but I was still pretty shredded. And though I wasn't tensing them up, my abs looked beyond awesome.

Another change was that the thick carpet of body hair that should have been there had thinned out. There was enough left for me to look manly, but nothing like the pelt I normally sported. Making it that much easier to see the aforementioned abs.

"Wow, you weren't kidding," Ellen said, making a face like she'd just sucked a lemon. "Here," she said, pouring the rest of what little she'd put in her glass to begin with into mine. "I'll stick with my friend Jose." She went to the liquor cabinet and took out a bottle. "I have to warn you though. Tequila makes my clothes fall off."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Haven't you heard that song?" she asked, blushing.

"Oh, riiight," I said. Of course she'd been referring to the song. Silly me.

Her cheeks went from pink to red. She flicked her wrist, as if swatting away a fly. Or any snide comments her son-in-law might think to offer.

I kept all such comments to myself as she poured herself a shot and came to sit at the table across from me. Didn't even say anything about the lack of salt and lime.

"So. That daughter of mine didn't wear you out?"

"That's not an awkward question."

She shrugged. "What? We're all adults here."

"Yes. Yes, we are. But still."

"Am I supposed to pretend I don't know that she really gets off doing things she shouldn't?" my mother-in-law asked before knocking back her first shot. "Not that I even care, but I just know that doing it in her parents' house has got to excite her. Bet she told you that too, didn't she? Makes her feel like a rebellious teenager again?"

"If you must know, she was too tired," I said, before raising my glass to my lips.

"Aww," she said, as if I'd said that my favorite team lost a big game. "I'm sorry. That must be why you couldn't sleep. Feeling all frustrated. And it's not like you can relieve yourself, what with her in the bed beside you."

"Okay, this is definitely not what I thought we'd talk about when you walked in."

"No?" she asked. "What did you think we'd talk about? That question you swore you actually got right? Should we write a letter to Parker Brothers?"

"I don't think Parker Brothers makes-"

"I don't care, Frank." She poured herself another shot. "I don't want to talk about Trivial Pursuit. And I don't think you do either." She leaned back and stretched, forcing her breasts to rise and separate.

The thin layer of silk didn't do much to hide her nipples. Which were obviously hard.

The second shot disappeared a quickly as the first. As she went to place it back down on the table, she dropped it to the floor. I think it was meant to look like an accident, but it wasn't. There was no doubt in my mind about that.

As it rolled away across the tiled floor, my mother-in-law dropped down on all fours and crawled after it. Giving me a nice view of her bare ass, and a glimpse of her glistening, pink folds. Because, of course, she wasn't wearing any panties.

Ellen looked back over her shoulder at me as she crawled away and gave a playful little bark. It didn't sound anything like a dog, but it was cute as hell.

And reminded me of someone else who'd once done that. The first woman I'd ever slept with, maybe. No, not Lauren. Someone else.

Why did that remind me of my mother, of all people?

I didn't bother to think about it. A few moments later, I was kneeling behind Ellen, pajama pants still on, a surprisingly huge cock in hand.

When had it gotten that big?

Probably around the time that Ellen grew younger still. She now appeared to be an absolutely inhumanely proportioned sex goddess in her early twenties rather than a pleasantly voluptuous thirty-something.

But that too was something entirely unworthy of my attention at the moment.

If ever I'd been more excited to enter a woman, I couldn't remember it. Her tight lips parted reluctantly, but still willingly enough to tell me I was most welcome. Fuck, she was wet. It took a few thrusts to get all the way inside her, but it went quick. With the last, firm thrust, Ellen let out a whimper.

"Oh, fuck, yes, Frank. God, I've been waiting for you to do that all day."

That went for both of us.

Before long, I was pummeling her so hard, it was a wonder that I wasn't hurting her.

Or maybe I was.

But if so, she didn't seem to object. Rather, she pressed her legs together tightly, turning her warm hole turned into a vice grip. The sudden change in pressure made me gasp. As soon as my mental faculties returned to me, I slapped her fat, white ass, hard, then started slamming into her even faster than before. Faster, and harder, than I'd have thought possible.

I couldn't have said how I did it. I just thought to myself that I needed to step things up, and someone I managed to do so.

"Ungh, yes, yes, fuck, baby, just like that," Ellen panted.

I watched, enraptured, as the smooth flesh of her ass rippled. There was no way any woman could have an ass that size with a waist that small. No way an ass could be that perfect, on any body. It was soft enough for my fingers to sink into it like a pillow, but a thick layer of muscle underneath the padding gave it the perfect heart-shape.

"Oh, yeah, mmmph, don't stop, baby," Ellen said. Then her voice got louder and her words became indecipherable as an orgasm overtook her.

Her walls spasmed around me, milking me, begging me to pump my seed into her. Who was I to deny the request? Between the hypnotic sight of her exquisite ass, the almost unbearably pleasurable feel of being inside her, and the rush of knowing I was fucking my mother, I couldn't hold out any more.

Wait, my mother? Not Brianna's?

Yes, that was right. As my balls jumped up and down, working overtime to pour cum inside the very womb that had sheltered me since before birth, my mother's own cum, and the supernatural energy that bled out of her along with it, helped to sweep away my veil.

A veil I'd placed over myself. And my mother, my cousin, and my uncle.

So that my mother and I could have the reunion we deserved, if only for a little while, before we got back to resenting each other for moving on. Got back to keeping secrets from each other about what had happened since we'd last seen each other. To wanting to throw that all aside but being too damn stubborn to do so.

I wasn't sure if her memories were returning too, now that she'd drained me as well. It was hard to take in much energy when you yourself were in the throes of ecstasy. But this had been a particularly light veil. It shouldn't take much for it to fade away.

At any rate, I wasn't about to ask if she remembered who she was, and how mad she was at me. I was inside her, where I belonged, and I meant to take advantage of that.

After a few moments to catch my breath, I went back to assaulting my mother's pussy.

"Oh, fuck. Mommy's missed your big ol' cock, Frank. Keep going."

That answered that question.

Now that I remembered who and what we were, I started to use more of my powers. Floating hands massaged my mothers feet, held her ankles in place, caressed her smooth ass, fondled her huge, swaying breasts, gripped her shoulders, and gently tugged at her hair. Meanwhile, spectral mouths sucked on her stiff clitoris and her thick, hard nipples.

God, I loved those nipples. There was nothing wrong with puffy nipples, like Iva had. But Mom's were nice and hard, and I liked that better.

I liked almost everything about her better, in fact. Better than Iva, and better than any other woman. She didn't have the prettiest face, but she was pretty. And though she wasn't as imaginative, or active, as Brianna, that was just fine. Sex with Brianna could sometimes be too much of an adventure. I never knew what she was going to try to get me to do. And as much as I liked that she'd broadened my horizons, sometimes I just wanted to do what I was comfortable with and nothing more. My mother also wasn't as powerful as some women. But while I couldn't deny that I very much enjoyed the supernatural flourishes, after a certain point, it didn't make much difference. Maybe even felt excessive. I couldn't imagine being satisfied with a really weak immortal, or one who didn't really know how to use her powers, like my daughter. But my mother was more than good enough.

Maybe Brianna was right that we weren't right for each other in other ways. And I really had fallen in love with my cousin. But just at that moment, as I was fucking my mother like the world depended on it, I realized that I'd never had, and never would have, more satisfying sex. Maybe other women could, through supernatural means, induce a higher level of pleasure. But this was as rewarding as it got, in the fuller sense of the term. Nothing, not nothing, compared to having sex with Mom.

I was lying flat on my back, watching her ride me cowgirl, when Uncle Bobby walked in.

He came to a dead stop, jaw agape. It took me a moment to remember that he was probably still under the veil. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything," he said.

"You won't be, if you join in," Mom said.

He made a disgusted sound.

I slapped my mother's ass, hard, and told her to get off.

She slammed her hips into me a couple more times, then, with a groan of protest, dismounted. Pulling the hem of her negligee down, as if it was possible to salvage some sense of modesty, she stumbled towards the man who thought he was her husband.

The effects clearly hadn't worn off entirely, given his behavior, but they were definitely fading. He no longer looked like a man in his fifties, even one who was relatively fit for his age. Rather, my uncle was wearing his true form. That of a sex god.

Looking him over quickly, I was struck by several things. First, he was shorter than I was. It would only have been by an inch or two if I hadn't enhanced my height a few minutes ago. Granted, he still had several inches on Mom, as short as she was, but given that she liked her men tall, I was still having trouble wrapping my head around that.

The other was that he looked like Grandpa Dick's twin more so than his son. I hadn't really noticed before, back when I laid eyes on him for the first time. And I hadn't seen my grandfather in his true form but once, and that was on video. But even so, it was immediately clear that the two men were almost identical, aside from Bobby's height. They had the same gray eyes. Eyes that Todd had inherited, whereas mine and Nat's were as brown as our mother's. His jaw was broad and square, like Grandpa's had been. He had a short beard, cropped close to his face everywhere save the mustache and chin. His beard, like Grandpa's, was closer to brown than anything, but had heavy red highlights. There were bits of silver and white in it too, particularly around the mouth and at the corners. His hair was more red than his beard. Almost the same color as Brianna's, in fact. His face was leathery and rough. I might have said that gave him a hard look, except that his smile was so easy and warm that it seemed odd to think of his face as hard.

No, "hard" wasn't the word. "Ruggedly handsome" fit him far better. In fact, he just about perfectly embodied the concept. He certainly wasn't classically beautiful like Sean. But not every woman went for that. For those who preferred their men a bit, well, manlier, Bobby was a real sight to behold. Even in his prime, Clint Eastwood would have looked oridinary compared to my uncle.

That wasn't easy to admit, but it was also hard to deny. If that makes any sense.

If he still thought himself an happily married mortal man, he probably wouldn't still be standing there, arms folded beneath his barrel chest.

When Mom went to lay her hand on his huge arm, he sighed, and you could be mistaken for thinking he'd just watched his dog make a mess of his food bowl.

"Don't be mad, baby," Mom said.

He started to reply, but swallowed his words as she went up on tiptoes to kiss him.

I came up behind my mother, gave her gorgeous ass a good smack, and let out a serious burst of crackling blue ecstasy as I did. The bolts jumped and arced in all sorts of directions, but they mostly targeted my mother. As intended, she immediately went into orgasm.

As she gasped and spasmed, my uncle drained energy from my mother. Without even realizing it, to judge by the shocked look on his face. But her well was so large that she was still teeming with energy afterwards, even though an undeniably generous amount of energy passed from her to him.

"Let's take this party back to the bedroom," she said. "Those tiles are cold."

"Hope you're not mad," I said. "We seemed to be getting off on the wrong foot. Thought this was the easiest way to hit the reset button."

"Do I look mad?" my mother asked. "It was a good idea." She glanced over her shoulder at me as she started down the hall towards the master bedroom. "Just don't think this means we're going to skip the awkward conversations we both know we need to have. They can wait, but they're still going to happen."

"I can live with that," I said, starting after her.