Homelands Pt. 07 Ch. 03

It wasn't just nice to look at a woman and see a woman. That was part of it, yes. But not all. Cahill had been with women whose slits were almost invisible, whose labia were tight and modest. Teagan, for example, had the slightest little vulva, and she was as bald as the child she almost seemed to be. Going down on girls like her was a challenge. There was just so little to work with. His mother's prominent sex, on the other hand, rewarded his attentions amply. And nothing could satisfy Cahill more than satisfying his mother.

As blatantly as he'd been staring between her legs, he noticed his mother doing the same.

Cahill looked down the length of his body. His muscles had grown larger, his hair thicker. He looked wilder. Less like a man and a little more like a beast. The swollen member standing straight up like a ship's mast seemed equally foreign. It dwarfed his usual endowment, which had never been modest. It was a few inches longer than usual, and much thicker. A thicker tangle of black hair curled around the base, though the shaft was smooth, with only a few prominent veins. The helmet was thick and shiny. His penis looked like a cross between a feminist's nightmare and a horny woman's filthiest dream come true.

"There some rite of initiation the druidess must perform?" Cahill asked nervously.

His mother shook her head.

"A privilege owed to the matriarch? Like jus primae noctis?"

Again, Caronwyn indicated otherwise.

So. She did not have to have him first. She was acting as a woman, with a woman's needs, not as the eldest woman of the clan or the one charged with carrying out rituals.

His mother stopped at the end of the stone altar. Dark eyes studied him. He noticed that unlike her sister's chestnut orbs, Caronwyn's irises were nearly black. That almost made him uncomfortable, but it was so striking that he couldn't look away. Those chips of onyx held him in place as surely as the vines Fiona had conjured up did.

Most every woman he met made a lasting impression on him. For the few fleeting moments that they were together, he would convince himself that his partner was unlike any other woman, if only in some small way. Among the fey, that rarely took much convincing. Most every woman had at least one feature that set her apart from other women.

But it wasn't like that with his mother. Everything about Caronwyn was perfect in Cahill's eyes. She could not have been more beautiful, nor could her body have been any more desirable. From her exquisite complexion and divine facial features to her glorious breasts, slender waist, and dangerously curvaceous lower body, she was utterly without flaw. The purest expression of feminine sexuality.

Ever so slowly, she lowered herself, until her mouth hovered an inch or so above the swollen head of his cock. She licked those luscious lips of hers, leaving them even shinier than before. A shudder ran down Cahill's spine.

For moment, he wondered why her lipstick never smeared. But then he realized how absurd that was. She didn't wear lipstick, nor makeup of any kind. None of they fey did. Sure, no mortal woman boasted lips that color, nor skin that fair and flawless. And it certainly looked like his mother wore thick eyeliner and heavy eyeshadow. As did all the women of the fey. But no mere cosmetics ever disgraced their skin. If their beauty was enhanced, it was not by pigments and powders, oils and waxes.

"You've said your goodbyes?" his mother asked.

The warmth of her breath against his poor, neglected cock made him twitch. Pre-cum oozed out his slit. He needed her so badly. Needed those plump lips wrapped around his manhood. That warm, nimble tongue dancing along his shaft, teasing his glans and foreskin.

He nodded.

"She knows she'll never see you again?" his mother asked, referring of course to the woman he'd long thought to be his mother.

"Yes," Cahill said.

They'd made love one last time. He hadn't even pictured Caronwyn while they did, thought he'd been tempted to. Mary Donovan was not a beautiful woman, but she'd given him so much, and he'd brought her little but suffering in return. He'd pushed her away, punished her for committing no greater crime than telling him the truth. After all of that, she deserved to be with him one last time, and for him to be with her.

Deserved more than that, in fact. And so he'd done his best to give still more.

Besides his body, and his house and all his worldly possessions, Cahill left the woman who'd raised him with a little glamour. If she so chose, Mary would remember him and their last time together every night in her sleep. Remember in such vivid detail that her body would respond as though it were happening all over again, too.

She wouldn't dream of him if she didn't want to, though. If ever Mary thought it best to move on with her life, she'd be free to do so. Only for as long as she wished to keep him in her heart would the glamour last.

Even that was less than he wished he could give her. Were it up to Cahill, he'd promise to go back and visit her, in person, once a twice a year. For her birthday or Christmas or something. Maybe even bring her to Faerie with him, if that was what she wanted. But he could not promise her those things. So he'd given her what he could. And the tears of joy that had streamed down her cheeks told him that it had been enough. That he'd left behind a woman who was happier than she'd ever again hoped to be after that fateful car crash.

Apparently, his mother, his true mother, could sense what he'd done. Perhaps some trace of the glamour was left on him. Or maybe Caronwyn just knew him that well, though she'd been absent most of his life. A faint smile spread across her lips and she gave him an almost imperceptible nod of approval.

Then she rewarded him for being such a good son.

His own tears of joy soon streamed down his face.

There were a lot of women out there who knew how to give good head. The fey boasted more than their fair share of them. But none of them could compare to his mother. Not Oona, who could tease a man within an inch of his life. Not Fiona, who thought that anyone who didn't take the time to seduce their lover properly had no right to expect any satisfaction of their own. Not Liadan, who knew both how to tease and to please, to overwhelm a man and to make him savor every little moment. No one.

Cahill lost track of the number of times he came in his mother's mouth. One thing he would remember, when she finished, was that she hadn't even reached the end of his foreskin before he'd unleashed his first load. She'd kept the very tip of him inside her mouth and swallowed every last drop before licking him clean and picking right up where she'd left off.

Big as he'd become, she couldn't take him all the way inside. But that was just fine by Cahill. The magic she worked on his sensitive head was more than enough to satisfy him.

He tried to give her feedback. To tell her how amazing she was, and how much he was enjoying her affections. But he couldn't. It was hard enough just trying to breathe. His ass cheeks were clenched tight almost the entire time. His abs would pull tight, raising his upper body up off the stone slab enough for him to peer down his chest at the wonders unfolding below, then they'd give out and he'd fall back flat on the stone with a sight. Most of the time, he just lay there, hips twitching and head flopping about like a dying fish.

The only thing that could have made the experience more enjoyable would have been if his hands were free to run through his mother's hair. Fuck, but Cahill loved that hair. It was so luxurious, so thick and soft, silky and strong, dark yet colorful. Otherwise, Caronwyn shattered his understanding of pleasure, forever redefined ecstasy in his mind.

It hit him afterwards, when his mother finally allowed him to recover, that he'd never truly had sex with the women of his family before. They'd merely pantomimed the act of pleasing each other. That alone had been enough to ruin every relationship he'd ever had, but it was nothing like what awaited him now that he'd come home.

The realization that he'd spent fifteen years denying himself the pleasures that now awaited him, all because he refused to wake up, almost made him cry. The only consolation was that the fey were immortal. That there was no limit on how much time he could spend with the unnaturally beautiful women of his family now.

"Okay there buddy?" Fiona asked, taking his big toe between her fingers and wiggling it. "Haven't gone and passed out on us, have you?"

"No," he gasped. "No," he repeated, a bit more steadily. "Just...wow. That was incredible, Mom. Absolutely unbelievable."

"Hmm. Good thing I held back," Caronwyn said. "Or maybe we would have lost him."

Cahill laughed, as did his sister. But he wasn't at all sure their mother was joking.

"Well, I don't know if i can follow that act," Fiona said, grabbing his tree trunk in her little hands. "But I'm going to enjoy trying."

Indeed, she couldn't match the red goddess.

But if Cahill's mind hadn't just been blown away by Clan Walker's matriarch, it would have been by it's eldest daughter. It didn't take thirty seconds for Fiona to find out that their mother hadn't left him completely dry after all. And it didn't take Cahill thirty seconds to realize just how true it was that he'd never known anything in his dreams but a shadow of the pleasure his family had to offer him.

Fiona moved more slowly than his mother. The smiles she gave him from time to time conveyed true affection. She was genuinely enjoying herself, even if it looked like she was wearing herself out trying to accommodate his oversized cock. But the last thing Cahill would have said of his sister's approach was that it was casual. She seduced him carefully and methodically, her tongue dancing to a rhythm he couldn't quite decipher. Her lips weren't as soft and pillowy as their mother's, but they were more than a little wonderful. And she knew what he wanted. Every time he'd start to think that she was drawing things out too much, she'd step things up and make him squeak with delight. Caronwyn was as good as it got when it came to sucking dick. But his sister was no beginner.

Finally, after the tree nymph swallowed the last bit of cum his poor little testicles could possibly produce, the women let him up. The vines slipped away and withdrew into the darkness above and the ground below.

His gorgeous mother and his pretty sister stood hip to hip, the younger woman's arm wrapped around the older one's waist, while the mother's arm was encircled the daughter's shoulder. The sight of them standing there naked as the day they were born, smiling at him with a mix of affection and amusement, warmed Cahill's heart.

The voluptuous nature goddess seemed a smaller, in spite of her generous curves, when standing beside the shapely druidess. Their mother stood a few inches taller than Fiona, and had breasts that made the younger woman's round beauties seem almost modest. Her hips almost convinced him that Fiona's were average-sized, though they certainly weren't. Despite all that, though, Caronwyn was thinner in all the right places too, especially the waist. By a fair margin, for that matter.

Still, though Fiona inferior to the red goddess in every way, Cahill remained awed by her. She had all their mother's best features, even if they manifested themselves less gloriously in the younger woman. His sister had proportions that biology forbade any mortal women from possessing, beautiful skin, and a smile that made his stomach flutter. Her dark brown pubes were trimmed neatly, but left no doubt that she was a grown woman. Her pussy lips were not quite as puffy and prominent as their mother's, but neither did she have a modest little slit like their cousin. The two women had similar facial features. Round, high cheekbones, cute little noses, pointy ears, and delicate chins. Their eyebrows were thick and dark, making their skin seem even fairer. Their lashes were long, their lips full, their eyes big and wide, and their hair dark. All of that similarly reinforced their breathtaking complexions. True, one woman had red-brown hair and brows, the other brown-but-maybe-green. And Caronwyn's eyes were much darker than Fiona's, though the latter had irises no man could call light, even if they were green. They reminded him less of emeralds than of olives. Or, more appropriately, the deep forest she called her home. But there was a strong resemblance between the two, all the more noticeable now that they stood side by side.

"I don't know what I was thinking," Cahill said.

The two women burst out laughing.

"At least you came to your senses in the end," Fiona said, climbing up onto the altar beside him. "And before Brittany too."

"Yeah," he said.

His sister nuzzled his neck and worked his earlobe into her warm mouth. Meanwhile, her hands roamed over his body. It took only an moment for him to know that he wasn't done after all. However much was demanded of him, he would give. And then give some more.

Fortunately, though, Caronwyn seemed to sense that he could use a little more time to recover. She stared into her daughter's eyes, ignoring her son completely. And Cahill was only too happy to shimmy out of the way so that the druidess could lay Fiona flat on her back and bury her head between the tree nymph's thighs.

He sat on the edge of the altar and watched in fascination as his mother demonstrated that she was no less talented at pleasuring women than she was men. His sister looked almost exactly as he imagined he must have when the red goddess had graced him with her favor. She rolled her head from side to side, sighing and moaning, while her hips jerked sharply upwards, settled back down, then jerked back up again. The only difference was that Fiona's hands were free to run through that glorious red hair, and she took full advantage. When she wasn't playing with her stiff brown nipples, that was.

Cahill solved his sister's dilemma for her. He knelt by her side and bent down, taking one full breast in his mouth while cupping the other in his hand. He played with her sensitive nipples, working as slowly and sensually as she herself would. Fiona started moaning louder, and with one hand on the back of each head, she silently implored her brother and her mother not to stop. And they didn't. Not until Fiona burst.

Even then, they only paused long enough to switch positions.

Cahill didn't take his time quite the way he would have if the two of them were alone. Had they been, he'd have worked his way from her ears to her toes and back again, pausing along the way to make love to her breasts and her hips, her navel and her ribcage, and many other places besides. But even the abbreviated version escalated slowly. He worked around his sister's vulva, munching on her labia with his lips before letting her feel his tongue. He concentrated on her less sensitive parts for a long while before moving inward. Every part of her womanhood, from perineum to clitoral hood, got plenty of attention.

In time, though, his sister lost patience. She pushed her spongy G-spot out of her vagina, the way only very practiced women can. And so Cahill began to incorporate her G-spot into his rotation. Increasingly, his attentions focused exclusively there and on her clitoris. Fiona began to moan and writhe more and more rapidly.

When the dryad started cumming again, the trees sighed along with her. Their foliage grew thicker and more verdant as the world around them soaked up some of the energy bleeding out of his sister's Libido.

She was ordinarily so composed, so reserved, that it took Cahill by surprise to see her thrash her way through an orgasm. Even at her most violent, she didn't go as crazy as Oona always did, but it was still a sight to see.

He was about to offer to go down on her again. She'd brought him to climax multiple times. It would only be fair to repay the favor fully. But he could see the impatience in his mother's eyes, and disappointing his red goddess was not something he knew how to do.

Fiona slipped off the altar and onto unsteady feet.

"That was nice, Kay," she told him. "I'm so happy you've finally come home."

"I'm happy to finally be here," he said, bending down to kiss the top of her head.

His sister wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight. "Come see me sometime soon, hmm?" she said. "I'll make it worth your while."

Cahill ran his fingers lightly through her green hair. "Don't doubt you will," he said.

She gave him a blank look, as if unsure whether he was mocking her. Cahill sensed something dark and green inside her, directed simultaneously towards him and their mother. He felt a stab of pain at that. Yes, Caronwyn was the center of his universe. But that didn't mean he didn't care for his sister.

"Seamus is a lucky guy," Cahill said, as if to remind her that she was the center of someone's universe too. Just not his.

His sister pulled back, stared at him in disbelief for a moment, then said, "And what, exactly, is that supposed to mean?"

From the altar came a snicker of amusement.

"Just that our brother couldn't ask for a better-"

"Do you think he owns me?" Fiona snapped. "That he's landed a great catch?"

"Nooo," Cahill said tentatively.

"He's lucky I choose to lie with him as often as I do," she said. "But I can take any lover I want, any time I want. Who knows, maybe I'll get tired of him. Or him of me." A little heat went out of her voice. "It's different with our kind, Kay. You know that."

He knew that everyone kept saying so. And that mortals didn't look so favorably on incest. But he wasn't at all sure that he believed what his sister would have him believe.

She and Seamus were all but inseparable, and Duncan rarely graced any other woman's bed save Macha's. If Reilly or Finnegan ever had their way, they'd have the same arrangement with Oona. Gallech might too, save that he'd undoubtedly chase after Caronwyn every now and then just to frustrate Cahill. The fey were very open sexually, but every last one of them seemed to have a favorite lover. Fiona and Seamus were not just lovers. They were in love. Anyone with eyes could see that. It didn't matter that no one ever said as much aloud. They never explicitly denied it either. Because they couldn't.

"Go easy on the boy, Fiona," their mother said as she slipped up behind her indignant daughter. "He's still learning."

Fiona heaved a sigh. "Someone better take over teaching him, then," she said. "He doesn't listen to me."

Caronwyn kissed the smaller woman's shoulder, then the back of her head. Slender hands played with silky brown hair. "I'll do my best."

A soft, indistinct sound escaped Fiona's throat. "You're in good hands, at least," she said to Cahill breathlessly.

Their mother nibbled lightly at Fiona's ear and Cahill thought she might have slid a hand between the girl's round butt cheeks. Might have reminded her daughter just how good those hands were. "I'll learn him up good," Caronwyn said. "He'll be the pride of Clan Walker before you know it."

"So I'm not now?" Cahill said with a smirk.

Both women smiled at him.

"Say goodbye to your sister," his red goddess said with a bemused grin. "You and I have some catching up to do."

So Cahill did. And the kiss he and Fiona shared brought them both to climax.

#

"Were you ever in love?" Cahill asked his mother between sessions.

He'd lost all track of time. That was easy enough to do in Faerie, he'd always thought, even before he'd set foot in the Emerald Court proper. Which he hadn't before. Not truly. His mother had explained that much to him during a previous break in the action. But he still got the sense that his mother might have had something to do with it. Especially since they'd been going at it for hours and not once had anyone else come looking for them. Not even Gallech, who seemed to have a foolproof sensor that told him when it was time to go interrupt Cahill's attempts to seduce their mother.