Homelands Pt. 03 Ch. 06

"Fine with me," Bobby said, trailing behind. His voice sounded like that of someone who'd just woken up. I wasn't sure if he had any idea what my mother and I were referring to, or was just agreeing to agree. That would be just like him, if so.

And Brianna thought I was too non-confrontational.

"Good. Then we'll do that tomorrow. But the night's still young. Sort of, anyway. So for now, I want the two of you to focus on fucking the hell out of me."

That was exactly what I intended to do.

Bobby laughed awkwardly. Was he not used to hearing her talk that way?

When we got back to their bedroom, Mom slowed things back down. She sat both of us on the edge of the bed, did a little dance for us, and gave us the slowest, teasingest blowjobs ever. Just as I was getting to the point that I thought I might cum, she'd switch over to her brother. She kept working me with her hand while she did, but that doesn't compare. It was her warm mouth and expert tongue that I wanted. That I needed.

Eventually, though, she got me so close to the brink that even a hand would do. And she did the same for Bobby. Then, sitting on her haunches with her eyes closed and her mouth open, she asked us to cum for her.

My uncle and I exchanged awkward glances, shrugged, then stroked ourselves off, shooting rope after sticky rope of jizz into her mouth, onto her face, and into her hair. More than a little made its way to her huge breasts. Particularly since I was cumming buckets. For his part, Bobby served up more than a modest amount. Enough to shame any mortal. But he either hadn't thought to, or didn't know how to, extend his orgasm supernaturally. Myself, I came and came and came some more. Most of it landed on her face or tits, but my mother still swallowed enough that, if she was mortal, she'd need to have her stomach pumped.

"I love when you do that," Mom said, after she cleaned herself up. "Even with my eyes plastered shut by your spunk, I can still picture the look on your face. Does it turn you on, knowing how much it turns me on?"

"You have no idea," I said, running a hand through her hair.

And she really didn't. She looked damn fucking good, covered in her son's cum.

She smiled and reached out to give her brother's chubby a few playful pumps. Bobby was shorter than me there too. Quite a bit. But just as thick. "You think you can figure out how to do that for me, baby?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I think so."

"Good. I just love being covered in jizz."

He gasped. But whether it shocked him, disgusted him, or excited him, I couldn't have said. Maybe all three. Heck, it did all three for me. Mostly the last one, but the others too.

"Now, what do you say you boys return the favor?" Mom asked, rising to her feet.

Without a word, we laid her down on the bed and set to work.

I took pleasure in noticing that my ministrations aroused more of a reaction from her than Bobby's did. But my insanely jealous mind wanted to believe that he couldn't satisfy her at all, and that clearly wasn't the case. If he was not quite the master of oral seduction that I was, he was hardly a novice. And he knew what his sister liked.

A different part of me, perhaps a more mature part, was actually glad to know that. If Mom was in love with this man, he damn sure better be able to satisfy her.

After we guided her through a few orgasms, groping and sucking and nibbling and kissing and tongue-fucking her from head to toe, we all pulled apart and took a breather.

I almost couldn't believe how much I'd missed that taste. In a way, all the women of our kind had it. A hint of sweetness mixed in with their salty juices. But each woman was unique as well. And my mother's was probably my favorite, if only because it was hers.

"So," my mother said, after a few minutes. "Are you boys ready?"

Could there be any doubt?

Bobby nodded emphatically. "Sure are."

I basically pounced on her by way of response.

She laughed and the two of us rolled around a bit, fondling each other and exchanging kisses. But she worked her way back up to her knees and told us how she wanted us.

And it wasn't quite the answer I'd hoped for.

Bobby was to take her doggy-style. The lucky bastard.

It was her favorite position. And, once upon a time, I'd been her favorite lover. But that didn't mean it was "our" position. However much I wanted to believe that it was.

While he did, I sat in front of my mother and tried my best to enjoy the blowjob she gave me. But, unfortunately for me, Bobby seemed to have an even better idea of how to pleasure her than I'd realized, and that left her pretty distracted.

I reminded myself that was a good thing. But I wasn't listening.

I was still better, of course.

That wasn't just my ego talking. When we switched positions, and I slowly slid my mini baseball bat inside her, it took only a few moments for my mother's body, and her Libido, to tell me the same thing. She didn't need to say it aloud for me to know.

After a while, though, I forgot to worry about whether I was getting better treatment than my uncle, or whether I was doing a better job of satisfying my mother. I was simply hypnotized by my mother's beauty. Her figure was so unreal. In all the right ways. I could almost fully encircle her waist in my hands, at least now that I'd added several inches of height and accordingly had bigger hands. Yet, despite that relatively small waist, she had broad hips, full thighs, and breasts the size of her head. Bigger, actually.

None of this was news. But I didn't think I'd ever really believe it. Every time I made love to my mother, every single time, I marveled at her surreal proportions, at her extreme curves. If Bobby was the embodiment of the very notion of ruggedly handsome, my mother could similarly be said to be femininity made flesh.

For me, anyway.

In the back of my head, a voice buzzed, reminding me of all the crap about socially constructed gender norms that I wasn't sure if I'd ever actually studied or perhaps had only somehow acquired through repeatedly transforming myself into an academic.

Of course it wasn't fair to say she was femininity made flesh, given how problematic the very notion of femininity was. But she was certainly the paragon of a particular imagine of feminine beauty. One that resonated with me quite strongly.

And when Bobby sat above her face, his thick but relatively short cock hanging down beneath him for her to take into her mouth, I couldn't take my eyes off that either. Not that I liked staring at my uncle's cock. Just that watching my mother suck dick, even another man's dick, was intoxicating.

Since Bobby had joined us, we'd made relatively little use of our supernatural powers. Extra cum here, easy cleanup there, but not much else.

It was getting to be time to change that.

I lifted my mother's legs up onto my shoulders and leaned back, lifting her hips gently up off the bed. I also reshaped my cock, putting a kink in it that would allow me to directly stimulate her G-spot with each thrust. Moreover, I summoned a spectral mouth with which to suck on her stiff little lady. On top of that, the slightest little bolts of ecstasy crackled all around us. They mostly targeted my mother, but Bobby and I enjoyed a few of them as well. They were too small to bring anyone to climax by themselves, but they created a powerful rush of euphoria that added to the whole experience.

It wasn't long before my mother experienced a monster of an orgasm. Her body went wild, and it was a good thing for Bobby that his dick didn't get bitten off. To liken the reaction inside her Libido to a nuclear bomb exploding would have been hyperbolic, but only a little. The sudden rush of energy pouring out of her and into me almost knocked me out.

The intensity of her climax had a lot to do with the pent up desire from not having seen each other for so long. This wasn't really her favorite position, and the one spectral mouth only added a modest amount of additional stimulation. But that was okay with me. Just knowing I could have that effect on my mother was a huge ego trip. So what if it was only because of the circumstances, the way she felt about me and the frustration from fighting with me recently, rather than my skills as a lover?

After that, Mom said she needed a break.

"Why don't you go get us some drinks, baby?" she said to her brother.

He gave her a look that threatened to cross over into sad protest, but quickly turned into a tepid smile. "Love to." He kissed her cheek before leaving.

"I've missed you," she said to me after he left. "You and that glorious dick of yours. Good sweet Lord, you know what Mommy needs." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "But don't make more of this than it is. Because Bobby is incredible, and I've been happier than I ever imagined since I met him. This time, when I say it's just sex, I actually mean it."

"Understood," I said.

"That's not nothing, of course. If there's one area where he'll never compare to you, it's this. He's good. Don't get me wrong. But you, you're much, much better than good. You're...," she didn't finish the sentence. Just smiled a smile that made my knees buckle.

The rest of what she'd said, about that being the only area where he didn't compare to me, or how she really meant it when she said that it was just sex, could sink in later.

"He'll be back soon. Tell me one thing first. Is Brianna good to you?"

I hesitated, then nodded.

The hesitation wasn't because there was any uncertainty in my mind about what the honest answer to that question was. Only over whether she really wanted to hear it.

There were things about my relationship with Brianna that I wasn't proud of. Things I wouldn't speak of aloud, and rarely even allowed myself to think about. But in a lot of ways, she was exactly what I needed. And I'd never have guessed how sweet she could be.

"Good," she said. "I don't know that I get that. But as long as you're happy."

Which I was, in a way, but the she said that as if she was giving up already on the idea of us getting back together.

Which, maybe she was.

And maybe I should too.

Fuck.

I was actually happy with Brianna. And when things weren't great, it was mostly because we were fighting about my mother. What if I just let go, and committed myself full to Brianna? It wasn't like I'd never get to have sex with my mother again. Brianna didn't care about that. So long as it was, to use my mother's words, "just sex."

"Tequila for the lady," Bobby said as he came down the hall. "Scotch for the men." He held up the bottle as he looked at me. "I'm a bit of a novice, and so probably don't have what it takes to really appreciate this, but I trust you'll forgive me for taking some?" He paused for a moment before adding, "After all, we did pay for it."

I snickered. That was awfully close to a joke.

"Not with real money, though," I said.

"I suppose not, no. But I didn't know that at time."

We poured out a round of drinks.

"To letting go of the past," Mom said.

Those words were still buzzing in my head a few minutes later, when my mother's face was buried in her brother's neck. It wasn't even like she was being subtle about it. Why wasn't the message getting through?

For a while, I sat and watched. It wasn't easy, but they deserved some time together. And I wanted to get a better sense of what kind of chemistry they had.

I remembered how Mom and I had always struggled with the fact that I wanted to seduce her slowly, romantically, and tenderly, while she'd never been more excited than when I threw caution to the wind and let my inner animal out of its cage. Maybe instead of watching, I should grab her, bend her over the bed, and take her, while my uncle watched.

If we'd still been together, then, yes, that might well have been what I should have done just then. But we weren't. I needed to accept that.

Just as I was thinking that, Bobby unleashed his own beast.

With a growl, he told my mother to get down on all fours. She did as instructed. He didn't waste any time before entering her, nor in building up the pace gradually once inside her. I never would have guessed my mild-mannered and ultra-polite uncle had it in him.

"Oh, that's it, baby," Mom moaned. "Fuck your big sister. Fuck her good."

Not for the first time in my life, I was struck by the fact that there was nothing more painful yet more beautiful than watching another man fuck my mother. I wanted so badly to be him in that moment. But seeing Mom from angles I couldn't manage while I was inside her myself was a pleasure all its own.

Did she get that same look on her face when I fucked her doggy-style? Or was Bobby the only one who could get her to the point that her face was contorted with ecstasy so intense she almost seemed to be in pain?

It wasn't as though I didn't know that when I fucked her like that, her huge breasts swayed back and forth crazily. But watching it happen while Bobby assaulted her was an experience so intensely arousing I almost forgot to be jealous. For a moment, anyway.

In fact, I might even have been a little impressed.

My uncle wasn't quite as thickly muscled as I was, but he was closer to my physique than any of the other guys in the family at this point. And he was every bit as chiseled. Perhaps a touch more so. So I tried to tell myself that my abs looked that good when I fucked my mother. That my chest bounced the way his did when he tensed up then relaxed then tensed up again. That my arms were equally wondrous to behold.

Where he wasn't nearly as strong as me was in the supernatural department. Or if he was, he'd yet to show it. I hadn't seen him wear two bodies, grow a second cock, summon extra hands or spectral mouths, or any of that. No need to be too in awe of the insanely handsome god wrecking my mother's pussy then. It might sound like she was getting fucked better than she'd ever been fucked before, but that simply couldn't have been true.

It just couldn't be.

Still, it only took a few minutes before they filled the room with their howls of ecstasy. As Bobby slammed into Mom one last time, hard, he gave her ass a good slap. Then he sighed and slipped away. Mom slowly stood up, her feet unsteady, and stumbled into bed. Once there, she rolled onto her back and collapsed, a huge smile on her face.

After a few quick breaths, she beckoned me forth with a curled finger.

"Take your time," Bobby said, clapping me on the back as I walked past him.

"Thanks," I said, flatly.

I'd wanted to add "Asshole" to the end of that sentence, but I behaved myself.

I didn't say a word to my mother as I climbed atop her. She stared up at me with a hunger deeper than I'd feared her capable of at this point. Yet her hunger paled in comparison to my own, I was sure. It gnawed at me, screamed at me, demanding to be satisfied. It left me feeling as though I was burning alive.

I stared down at Mom's smooth, creamy white skin, and refused to think of her wrinkles as imperfections so much as reminders of her maturity and experience. Those eyes of her were not merely beautiful, but mesmerizing. Perhaps I really did prefer brown eyes. Brianna's emerald orbs were definitely pretty, in their own way. But staring into her eyes didn't make me swoon like this. Never had, and never would.

Or maybe it was just that my mother's eyes would have had the power to take my breath away and make my heart beat just a little faster no matter what color they'd been.

I wasn't sure. And I didn't care. Either way, I could have stared into those eyes for hours, dumbstruck by their beauty.

And I didn't care if Brianna thought it was weird that I had a thing for eyebrows, or if it was only in my head that my mother's were so thick and dark. For me, they were every bit as beautiful as her full lips, long lashes, porcelain skin, and dark eyes.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I entered her. It felt so good, so right, to be back inside that womb. Back where I belonged.

She was so warm. Her labia were swollen from all the fucking she'd already received that night. Her walls were relaxed and she hardly needed any time at all to accommodate my monster. The juices dribbling down my shaft to collect on my sac were thick and phlegmy.

As I slammed into her, I held her shoulders. A few extra hands appeared so that I could finish getting reacquainted with the pleasures of her body. At first, it was just two hands, to fondle her breasts. Then another pair of hands appeared and held her thighs up by my ribs. Then another pair lifted her hips up and cupped her soft buttocks. Still another pair massaged her feet and ankles. Finally, a single spectral mouth appeared and went to work sucking on her stiff clitoris.

Just as I was building up a steady rhythm, though, I pulled out. I didn't want to be on top of her. I wanted to fuck her doggy-style. I might not be our position, but I would pretend it was, for just a little while. I gestured for her to get down on all fours.

Mom stared up at me, eyes wide, smiled, and did as instructed.

The moan she let out when I slid back inside was alone nearly enough to finish me off.

It took a good deal more effort than superficially reading a Libido, but I looked closer, studying the shape and taste and color of her energy.

Once, I'd thought my mother had a taste for pain and humiliation. She'd insisted that what got her off was exciting powerful emotions in her man, whatever emotions those might be. Whether she'd been telling the truth all along or her tastes had changed since meeting Bobby, I'd probably never know. But just then, at least, I saw none of the darker energy I found in Grandma Kaitlin or, to a lesser extent, in Brianna. My mother's tastes were hardly vanilla, but she didn't want me to hurt her. She wanted me to want her, to need her.

Which I did. Didn't she get that?

I loved Brianna, yes. But I didn't need her. Not like I did my mother. And though Brianna knew a thousand and one ways to make a man cum, and no one would every say that sex with her was boring, I'd never, never, cried when entering her.

"I love you, Mom," I whispered as I slammed into her, all the way to the hilt.

The sharp change in her Libido told me that was a mistake. But before she could say anything, her climax overtook her.

It was not a violent, monster orgasm, like some of the ones she'd had already that evening. Rather, it was a long, slow, steady one. A moaner, not a screamer. She convulsed beneath me, slumping forward and resting her face on her arms. Before her breathing even settled back down to something approximately normal, she said, "You shouldn't say that, honey."

"I'm sorry. But I can't help it."

"That's sweet," she whispered. "But things are different now. Don't you see that?"

"They don't have to be," I said.

She rolled onto her back and stared at me. With pity.

"Can I cut back in?" Bobby asked.

Politely, of course.

He did everything politely.

Was that what had been missing? All that time I'd worried that I wasn't aggressive enough for her, and this was what she replaced me with?

"Just a minute," Mom replied. "My son did a number on me."

So we had another quick round of drinks.

When we started back up, I found it hard to concentrate. Sex was the best part of what Mom and I had. And, judging by what she'd said earlier, she felt the same. So I should have just focused on enjoying the hell out of it. But even with her full lips wrapped around my mushroom cap and her silky hair running through my fingers, all I could think about was the fact that she'd told me not to tell her I love her.

There was no hope of us rekindling our romance.

And it made sense. I didn't want it to, but it did.