My Mothers are MILFs!

"There," Janice whispered. "Touch my tits, baby. God, I'm on fire right now." She took Maureen's hand and placed it on her breast. The brown nipple, several shades darker than the surrounding flesh, was high and erect, and Brandon thought he detected a sheen of sweat on her skin.

"How do you want it today?" Maureen asked. And her voice was completely unlike any Brandon had ever heard her use before, low and a little smoky. Slowly, she pushed her wife down on the couch, until Janice was prone. Her tan thighs came up, her dress falling away to pool at her waist, and Brandon swallowed as he realized she wasn't wearing underwear. At all. "Do you want me to eat that sweet little Latina pussy? Or we could go upstairs and I could put on the strap-on and fuck you real good."

"Mmmmmmm." A low purr emerged from Janice's hidden mouth. "A strap-on would be good. But what I wouldn't give for a real, live cock. Big and hard and hot. A young man's cock that could fill me up, over and over again, all night long."

"Sorry, sweetie." Maureen's hand moved down between her wife's thighs. Brandon swallowed his disappointment as her fingers covered the dark, pouting lips of her pussy, which he had guiltily glimpsed. "I'm not equipped for that." A long pause. "But maybe we can arrange something?" The sound of kisses and soft moans was her only reply. "Who was that guy on Brandon's soccer team you had your eye on? Mitch something, wasn't it?"

Brandon's hands clenched. Mitch? Mitch? He wanted to find his classmate, beat him to a pulp, then set the pulp on fire. And then bury what was left thirty feet deep. And then jump on top of the ground where it was buried, just for good measure.

"Oh, God, no," Janice scoffed. "Not Mitch. He's too skinny. I want a man with a good set of shoulders. I would break Mitch in half. He's all arms and legs. And his chest?" She snorted disdainfully. "If you gave me a set of drumsticks I could play a tune on his ribcage. I want someone with some muscle. And a really nice, thick cock. I bet Mitch has one of those skinny little peckers that can't do a damn thing for you."

"Well, you'll have to settle for this right now." A shift of her arm, a low, moaning keen, and Brandon knew that Maureen had slipped her fingers into her lover.

Let me out! his cock demanded. It was painfully erect, prisoned in a pair of jeans which were suddenly at least two sizes too small. I want to fuck them!

Which one?

Either one, you idiot! Jesus fucking Christ, just look at them! Janice's hands had slipped to the waistband of the baggy pair of shorts Maureen was wearing, and was slowly wiggling them down over her thighs. Her sculpted rear came into view, tanned and toned and exquisitely desirable. Just walk right up and stick me in!

Shut up. Just...shut up. He wanted to escape, to leave this scene before he saw more than could ever be forgiven when he was inevitably discovered. But what could he do, and where could he go? If he tried to leave now, Janice and Maureen would hear him and know he had been watching them like some sort of pervert. But slipping past them would be impossible. The stairs were on the other side of the room, and he would have to walk right past them to get there.

Biting his lip, he slid his hand under the waistband of his jeans, trying to relieve some of the terrible pressure. Maybe if he got his blood flowing again he would be able to think. But just as he eased his erection into a more comfortable position, his bookbag slid off his shoulder. He made a futile grab for it, but it hit the ground with a thunk that sounded like the crack of doom.

"Sorry! Sorry!" Maureen and Janice jerked up in surprise, their faces turning to him. He bent down, picked up the bag, and apologized again. "I'm sorry! I didn't...I wasn't..." He trailed off, face burning, unable to string three words into a coherent sentence.

But instead of blistering his ears raw, Janice simply giggled. "Whoops." To his shock, she made no move to cover herself, though Maureen tugged her shorts back up and over her lovely rear. "Is it that late already? What time is it?"

"After four," he muttered.

"I'm sorry, honey." She smiled, a wicked dimple forming at the corner of her mouth. "I'm done with those bozos at BrawnCo and got home a little bit early. I'm unemployed and sucking at the government tit again. At least until I find another consulting gig. And your mom and I haven't had a lot of time to be...intimate lately. We put on a movie and things just kind of got out of control."

"It's all right." And why in the world was she the one who was apologizing to him?

"I hope you didn't see too much."

"Oh, I think he's still getting an eyeful, Jan." Maureen's voice was slightly acid. "Since you're showing him everything north of the Mason-Dixon Line."

"Oh, piffle. He's a grown man now, isn't he? I'm sure he can handle seeing a pair of boobs. Oh, no, don't turn it off!" she exclaimed as Maureen aimed the remote at the television. She pouted as the screen went dark. "Spoilsport. They were just getting to the good part. You would not believe the things that woman can do with her toes."

Her toes?

"Dammit. I can't figure out why you wouldn't want to see that." Reluctance in every line of her body, Janice pulled her dress back up, covering her wonderful chest.

It's not that they're huge, he thought. But that they're so perfect for her. Just enough and not a bit more. Or less.

"And I can't figure out why a woman living in the twenty-first century is using words like piffle."

"Just naturally talented, I suppose." Janice got up and walked over to Brandon, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. "I'm going to go upstairs and finish things off with your mom," she whispered. "But we'll be back down for supper in a little bit, okay?"

"Sure," he croaked.

"Coming, Mo? Oh, wait. You're not. Not yet, at least." Janice grinned as her wife blushed to the roots of her hair. "Come on. The quicker I get you off, the quicker I can get something to eat. Wait." She winked at Brandon. "Reverse that." She pushed her gently in the small of her back, guiding her towards the stairs. But before they disappeared from view, she looked at Brandon over her shoulder, flipping the back of her dress back up over her waist with her hands and giving him a heart-stopping glimpse of her perky brown buttocks.

He sank to the couch, shaking his head. In the still air of the room, he could still dimly scent the aroma of their arousal.

What the fuck just happened?

*****

Janice giggled madly as she closed the door to their bedroom behind them, though she was careful to leave it open a crack. "That was fantastic! Did you see the size of that boner?"

"No," Maureen said, sitting on the bed. "Unlike some women I know, I was able to keep my eyes off my son's crotch."

Jan waved her hand. "Come on, Mo. He didn't notice me looking. Men never do, unless you just stand there and eye-fuck the shit out of them. I bet you could stare at his package all night long and he'd have no idea, because he'd be too busy drooling over us. God, that was hot. If he wasn't harder than Chinese algebra, I'll do the dishes for a month."

She sat down beside her wife, running her fingers through her hair. "Are you sure you didn't check him out? Just a little bit?"

Maureen looked down at her lap. "Maybe."

"Maybe?" she teased. Very carefully, she undid the snap of her wife's shorts. "Up," she whispered, and pulled them down. "Jesus, Mo. You're soaking," she said, running her fingers over her damp folds. "You haven't got this wet from just making out in years. Unless," she continued carefully, "it wasn't just from the making out.

"You can tell me, babe." Up and down, her fingers ran over her petals. "Did having Brandon see us turn you on? Just a little? Or just a lot?" she snickered.

"I...I...oh fuck yes, it did." Helplessly, Maureen sagged back onto the bed, her legs spreading. Jan followed her down, peeling off the rest of her clothes. Soon she was naked, and Jan kissed her chest, her fingers easing into her lover. Years of experience had taught her what Maureen liked best, and she began to strum her clit with her thumb, even as she kept her ear cocked.

Yes. There it was. A telltale creak in the floorboards, just a few feet outside their room. She turned, lifting her hair away from her face, and grinned as a shadow flinched back out of view.

"Come on, Mo," she said into her ear, soft enough that there was no way Brandon could overhear. "Work with me here. He's outside. Listening to the two of us. Don't you want him to hear you come?

"I bet you'd like a big fat dick in your pussy, wouldn't you Maureen?" she said, just loud enough to be heard by anyone who might be listening. "A strong man, a hard man, filling you up. Pumping you full of his dick, over and over again." She thrust into her lover as her eyes closed, her fingers stroking her silky-wet sheath. God, she loved doing this. Maureen was usually so calm, so controlled, that when she was able to break that composed façade it was all worth it.

She moved her head over her chest, dropping kisses on her lovely breasts, her lips and tongue doing homage to her twin glories, teasing her gum-drop nipples into erect fullness. Over and over she went, switching back and forth. She never grew tired of her wife's tits, even if they weren't quite as firm as they had been when she met her, over fifteen years ago. She smiled, remembering that night at Shadows, and the timid woman who had crept in there, not realizing how every eye followed her slim body.

"Ohhh." It was a low, needy groan, a sign that Maureen was getting close. Halfway between a moan of delight and a symptom of a woman with a really bad belly-ache, Janice had learned to listen for that sound. "Faster. Fuck me with your fingers. Yeah. That's it. Oohhh, Jan, you fuck me so good."

"I love fucking you, sweetheart. Wait." She sharpened her voice. "Did you hear something?"

"What?" Mo sounded confused, and she clamped her hand over her wrist. "Don't stop!"

But Jan's keen ears had heard the sound of someone beating a hasty retreat back down the hallway, and she grinned, even as she bent to give Mo a long, tongue-deep kiss. "Don't worry," she said. "I scared him off."

"Why?" the taller woman demanded. She arched up, her body beginning to slide into the throes of her climax. "I thought..." she panted, "you were...trying to...seduce him."

"Ah." She kissed her again. "Always leave them wanting more, sweetie."

*****

Over the next few weeks, Brandon began to wonder if the whole world was going a little bit crazy, and he was the only one who was noticing.

His mothers had never been shy about their bodies, or evasive when it came to what people did together in the bedroom. Far from it. Mother Janice, for example, had always been refreshingly open and honest about sex. Almost too much so, he had thought on those occasions when she had asked his mortified girlfriends whether they had gone to bed together yet. And he couldn't help but remember the approving nod she had given Diane when the younger girl had lifted her chin and told her that it was none of her damn business. Janice liked her girls with a little bit of spunk.

Mother Maureen, on the other hand, had always been much more...restrained. Not disapproving, of course. She had been the one who had sat down with him one evening, shortly after he had brought home a note from school informing her that he would be starting sex-ed class, and watched a movie with him about sex and how babies were made. By the time it was over, his face had been flaming red and he hadn't been able to look her in the eye. But she had simply asked if he had any questions, and when he had shaken his head, had quietly pointed out that she was sure that wasn't true, and that he shouldn't be embarrassed about coming to her or Janice if he ever did. To be honest, he had been quietly grateful that Janice hadn't been around that night, and when he thought about it years later, suspected Maureen's moderating hand at work. Janice was a wonderful person, but she had an evil sense of humor that would have been ill-suited to keeping quiet when a twelve-year-old boy was watching a PBS documentary on sexual reproduction. God only knew what sort of comments she might make.

But now...if he didn't know better, he would have suspected that his mothers had been kidnapped and replaced by a pair of oversexed alien duplicates. Every time he walked into a room, it seemed like they were kissing or doing even more, usually with their clothes (skimpy clothes too, a fact which his young male mind didn't mind in the least) in a state of disarray. Not that they had ever been shy about being affectionate around him. But at least they usually kept most of their clothes on. When he tried to casually bring the matter up to Janice, she simply shrugged and pointed out with characteristic bluntness that she and her wife were taking advantage of her time off work, and anyway, a woman's sex drive usually kicked up a notch or two around their age, and neither one of them was going to apologize for that.

And they were being more affectionate with him, as well. Especially Janice, who seemed willing to use anything as a pretext to give him a hug or a kiss on the cheek. Even when she wasn't touching him, she always seemed to be lurking in the corner of his eye, her body posed for maximum impact.

And one hell of an impact it made. Janice was, in one of his classmate's words, a classic MILF. Her dark brown eyes were usually alight with her wicked sense of humor, and her body was trim and toned from long walks or bike rides she took on summer evenings, usually with either him or Maureen in tow. When she was working on one of her corporate auditing gigs, she was careful to keep her clothes tastefully professional. But the moment she got home, she slipped into something comfortable -- usually shorts and light blouses in the summer, or jeans and sweatshirts during the colder months. Any man who couldn't see the way her high, proud breasts pressed against her tops needed to have an immediate eye examination, and her legs were frankly lovely, long and slim and dark, rising to a rear which was appealingly firm and perky.

For the last two weeks Brandon had been walking around with a constant semi-hard at home, cursing his inability to control his own body. He had taken to leaving the house whenever he could and spending more time over at Diane's place. His girlfriend had been pleasantly gratified by his sudden increased interest in her, unaware that he was using her to work off his sexual tension. Each night, driving home, he had been hit by a pervasive, if vague, sense of guilt. But how could he tell Diane that his mothers were driving him into a state of sexual frenzy and he was using her to siphon off his excess lust?

And here we go again, he thought, pulling into the driveway and parking his car. For a moment, he was tempted by the cowardly notion of simply pulling back out and driving somewhere, anywhere, that wasn't home.

Which was, of course, ridiculous. He knew how much Maureen had sacrificed when she had taken him in. His grandmother Hanks had been more than ready to take him away from her, insisting that a woman barely a year out of college was in no position to raise a child. And if the hints he had occasionally heard at home were correct, Maureen could have made a lot more money by joining one of the big accounting firms downtown than she earned working from home, doing the books for small businesses and working sixty and seventy hour weeks during February and March, doing taxes for people who didn't trust either the accounting software they could buy on the internet or their ability to fill out the forms themselves.

This is stupid. He firmed his jaw and opened the door. Why in the world should he be nervous about going into his own home? It wasn't as if it were a lion's den. There wasn't a scary monster in there, waiting to bite his head off.

It's only Janice. What's the worst that could happen?

*****

Janice's heart quickened in excitement as she heard the door open.

She smiled secretly to herself. She loved Maureen more than breath, but part of her would always take joy in the thrill of the chase, the lure of the forbidden. Her lust for sex was bone-deep, and the darker the berry of desire, the sweeter the juice of conquest.

Part of her had laughed, that night at Shadows, when Maureen had crept through the door, timid and nervous despite her height and her eye-popping body. She had seen dozens of women like her, and had seduced more than a few. The big city was a hunter's paradise for a woman like Janice. She could take a woman, insecure in her own sexuality, back to her apartment in Oak Park, spend a happy night with her in bed, teach her what she knew, and say goodbye to her the next morning.

What she had never, ever expected was to lose her heart to a shy, insecure young woman, with skin like Irish cream and hair like black silk. But she had. One date with Maureen had turned to two. Then to three. Maureen had been surprisingly reluctant to go to bed with her, and somehow, she had not pressed the issue. Even then, she had been smitten by the taller, younger woman. There was something about Maureen, something innocent, even when she had been trying to come to grips with the reality of her own sexuality. And when she finally put aside her fears and came to her bed, nearly a month after their first meeting, the sheets damn near caught on fire. Nothing had prepared her for the raw sensuality Maureen was capable of when she put her mind and body to the task.

But she wanted more. Deep in her secret heart, she always wanted more. It was a good thing for her that her jobs were always short-term, temporary, and transient, because there was no way she could deal with the temptation of working for a large company. At some point she would say (or do) something completely inappropriate, and that would be all she wrote. Instead, she could fantasize about women and men to her heart's content, and then come back to the one person in the world who truly understood her, who wouldn't give her grief for her roaming eyes and hands, as long as she always returned to her.

But Brandon! Her pussy-lips grew hot and slick as she thought about him. She had watched him grow up, from cute little boy to tall, gawky teenager to handsome young man. Never, ever, would she have suggested what she had a few weeks ago if she hadn't suspected that Maureen harbored a few thoughts which were decidedly...unmotherly. Over the past two years, she and her wife had watched a steady stream of young women pass through their house and their son's bedroom. And not many of them had left looking unsatisfied. He was just the sort of man who could scratch the itch the two older women shared. Young, handsome, virile and malleable, who could be taught and molded. The fact that he was her adopted son (and Maureen's blood-nephew) only made the prospect even more delightfully kinky.

Brandon, however, had been irritatingly resistant to the ever-more-blatant hints she had been throwing his way. Lately, he had taken to hiding in his bedroom, as if he were avoiding her and Maureen. It was really aggravating, to be honest. She frowned into the mirror in her bedroom, artfully fanning her hair over her shoulders to give it that tousled, just-out-of-bed look, then turned, smiling.

"Hello?" The voice, clear and resonant, echoed through the house.

"Hey, honey!" She walked out of her bedroom and leaned over the bannister, making sure to give Brandon a good look at her breasts, which were barely restrained by the tight, scoop-neck top she was wearing. "How was school?"