Now That Daddy's Gone Ch. 04

One Big Happy Family

Paul Ryan climbed down from the International Harvester and stretched the crick out of his back. His father Peter Belfour came over and joined him.

"You did a good job today son. I appreciate you working on your birthday," Peter slapped his son on the back.

"Come on I have a treat for you," Peter led his son to the pickup truck parked in the shade of what used to be the farmhands barracks and was now the garage and workshop where Peter kept his farm machinery.

He had converted part of the building into a games room for the children, updating the gaming equipment as the kids got older. Peter no longer hired farmhands to help with the corn harvest. Advances in technology and his son growing to an age where he could work on the farm meant that outside assistance was no longer necessary, which suited Paul, his mother Margaret and his aunt Millicent, perfectly. They didn't want outsiders ruining their perfect lives.

They drove to the creek which ran through the property, discussing the corn harvest and other farming issues. Peter stopped at a grassy clearing and tossed a throw rug on the soft green grass under the shade of a big tree right beside the creek bank. He had Peter bring along the cooler from the back of the truck.

"Here. Today you are a man so you get to have a man's drink," Peter handed his son an icy-cold beer.

"Happy eighteenth birthday son," Peter clinked the neck of his bottle against Paul's.

"It's getting on for six o'clock dad; don't you have to be home?" Paul asked.

Paul and his cousin Jessica knew that they had to stay clear of the house between six and seven o'clock. They didn't know exactly know why but they strongly suspected it had to do with Peter wanting some alone time Paul's mother Margaret before dinner.

Although Paul and Jessica were still virgins they knew all about sex. Living on a farm they had witnessed animals doing it and their respective mothers had spoken to them both about the birds and the bees and procreation had been part of their education. They had no reason to question Peter's demand that they stay out of the house for an hour after he finished work. They had been home schooled and born and raised on the farm and they did whatever they were told to do by their elders without question. In the summer the cousins would swim in the creek and in the winter they would watch TV or play board games or pool in the games room until it was seven o'clock and time for supper.

"Now that you're a man there are certain things you need to know son," Peter said gravely.

"You never questioned me as to why you and Jessica are home schooled and why we don't associate much with the townsfolk," Peter said.

"I never thought to. Mom and Aunt Millie told us that we have an idyllic life here on the farm. We have everything we need. We still go into town now and then and we go to the stores, to the movies, to the soda fountain. I'm happy with the way we live," Paul replied.

"And Jess... she's happy too? You and her get along really well I've noticed," Peter smiled knowingly at his son.

Paul blushed. When Jessica had turned eighteen she had been allowed to wear makeup and nylons, skilled in the art by her mother and her aunt, the pretty girl had turned into an attractive young woman. When they swam together in the creek Paul was mesmerised by her body clad in her body-hugging lycra swimsuit.

Jessica had turned eighteen just ahead of Paul and was told by her mother that she should dress like an adult in the farmhouse: sheer nylons with tight pencil skirts and tight satin blouses. She looked a lot like her mother Millicent: blonde-haired, big-breasted and long-legged with a buxom figure.

Paul had been stealing Jessica's panties from the washing basket in the bathroom as well as his mother's and his aunt's. He'd masturbate with them and then placed them carefully back where he found them. He'd also take their discarded nylons from the trash and use them to jack off, placing his mother's gauzy nylon stocking or his aunt's or cousin's sheer pantyhose over his cock and stroke himself whilst sniffing their panties.

"Yes Pop; Jessica seems just as happy as I am," Paul took a long sip on his beer.

"Come on boy let's take a swim," Peter mussed his son's hair and the men stripped to their shorts and dived into the cool clear water of the creek.

They lay on the blanket in the waning sunlight, drying off.

"Get yourself another beer and climb back in the truck. I want to show you something," Peter got up from the blanket a little gingerly from the day's work.

Peter was now in his mid-thirties and Meg and Millie were the wrong side of forty but they were still very attractive women who looked after themselves. Meg still favoured the fifties fashion from her youth while Millie followed the current fashion trends; she'd always been more city than her sister.

Peter and Paul drove through fields of corn and down a dusty track until they came to a copse of unworkable land located roughly in the middle of the farm. Peter knew that the small parcel of arid, scrubby land that was strewn with boulders and knotted Honey Locust and was unusable. His father had told him and Jessica to stay out of it as it was a breeding ground for copperheads and rattlers and filled with dangerous sinkholes.

Peter parked the truck and Paul followed him deep into the centre of the copse. When his father arrived at a pile of weather-beaten branches and began to pull at them, Paul helped his father until they exposed an almost unrecognisable rusting piece of junk. Only the rotting tires gave evidence to the fact that it had once been an automobile of some kind.

"Is that an old truck or piece of farm machinery?" Paul asked, scratching his head.

"It used to be my father's pickup," Peter said matter-of-factly.

"That's grandpa's car? Mom told me that he disappeared without a trace," Paul looked astonished.

"Your grandpa was a lush who was letting the farm go to ruin and he was a violent man who beat his wife and denied her the loving she deserved," Peter sighed.

"He beat grandma? I'm sorry I never met her. Mom showed me some old pictures of her but she doesn't speak about her much," Paul sighed.

"No William Balfour didn't beat grandma. He beat you mother. He beat me. He beat his wife and son," Peter sighed.

Paul was speechless. He let the bottle of beer fall from his hand.

"I buried him there," Peter pointed to a depression in the sandy soil.

Something told Paul not to ask his father whether it was poor health, an accident or something else that had killed his grandfather. His mother never spoke of him.

"Dad I don't get it. You said he beat his wife but that he didn't beat grandma... that makes no sense," Paul's head was spinning.

"He was married to your mother... to Margaret," Peter said softly.

"And I was the son he beat," Peter breathed.

"Now that makes no sense at all," Paul was bewildered.

"Margaret is my mother too. I'm your father but I suppose that I'm also your half-brother, if that makes any sense," Peter swallowed the last of his beer and tossed it in the bush.

"You killed your father and married your mother?" Paul was astonished.

"Meg and I aren't married... at least not legally. But we are husband and wife in every other sense," Peter walked over and put his hands on Paul's shoulders.

"All you need to know is that we love each other. We love you too and we love Millie and Jess," Peter hugged his son.

"Wait! Aunt Millie and Jessica?" Paul couldn't believe what he was thinking.

"Jessica is your half-sister, Paul. Meg and Millie share my bed and I love them both equally," Peter sighed.

"Jessica is your daughter? My sister? This is all too much!" Paul began to shake.

"You're just like me Paul. I've seen you looking at your mother. I've seen you looking at Millie and Jessica: looking up their skirts, ogling their legs, their buttocks, their breasts. Your mother, Millie and I know about you taking their intimates into your bedroom to masturbate with them. Don't you think I used to do the same thing?" Peter said soothingly, not wanting to sound condescending.

"How do you think it started with me and our mother?" Peter asked rhetorically.

"Now you know our family secret. You can go or you can stay. But before you make up your mind let's go home so your mother can give you your birthday present," Peter smiled at his son.

"Oh, one other thing you should know. Those two graves there," Peter pointed to two depressions in the rocky ground.

"They belong to two men who took from me what was mine. I found them and I took it back. No one takes from me what is mine. But what I have I'm willing to share with my kin," Peter said gravely and then mussed Paul's hair.

The drive back to the farmhouse was conducted in stony silence while Paul tried to make sense of what his father had told him. It made no sense but the more he thought about it the more it did make sense: their isolated existence, his father's affection for Millie which seemed to go beyond just friendship for his wife's sister. Paul had seen Millie leaving his father's bedroom in the morning; he'd seen Millie and his father kissing and playing grab-ass when they thought the kids weren't looking.

His father was an affectionate man with both Paul's mother and his aunt and he and Jessica had speculated that there may be something more than just fondness between them. But this was the Midwest where families were very close and kissing cousins were common. He and Jessica had kissed and played with each other over their clothing but had never done anything overtly sexual, even though one of Paul's favourite masturbatory aids was the image of the crotch of his cousin's swimsuit clinging to her vulva, the fabric sucked into her cleft.

All this time he had fantasised about the girl that he now knew was his sister. His Aunt and his mother were also part of his sexual fantasies. Was he really any different to his father?

When they arrived home Paul half-expected there to be a surprise party waiting for him but the kitchen was empty except for his mother who was waiting for them when they came inside.

Meg looked magnificent. She was wearing a red, knee-length, A-line, pleated, round-neck, dress. It had white polka dots and was sleeveless to show off her tanned arms. She wore red four-inch high heels and seamed flesh-toned stockings. Paul couldn't help but admire the seams running up the back of her long legs.

His mother spun around and smiled at him through red-lipsticked lips and his heart melted. She was wearing full makeup, earrings and a necklace and her black hair was worn in a bob with bangs just above her big blue eyes.

"Happy birthday son I hope you like the way I'm dressed. This is the dress that I used to wear to meet your father when he came home from work when he was your age. I'm amazed I can still fit into it," she smiled and Paul felt his heart skip a beat.

"Did you tell him?" Meg furrowed her brow at Peter.

"I told him. I still don't think he fully understands. I'll leave him to you while I go upstairs and explain everything to Jess," Peter said levelly.

"She's up there with Millie waiting for you. Millie has told her some but not all of it. Make sure you treat her right," Meg instructed.

Peter moved into his mother and kissed her deeply, his hands seeking her thighs under her dress. He reluctantly let her go, the bulge in his jeans evidence of the effect his mother had on him. Paul just stood there amazed. He'd seen his father and his mother kiss and fondle each other often but that was before he knew that his mother was also Peter's mother.

"I'll leave you to it," Peter said gruffly and clambered up the stairs.

"So Petey has told you the family secrets," Meg smiled conspiratorially at her son.

Paul just nodded.

"I know it's overwhelming. Your father, Millie and I have had long hard discussions about what we should tell you and Jessica. In the end we decided that that the truth would be best. Take some time to think about it Paul. We are offering you the same life that we enjoy together," Meg lifted her son's chin.

"You and Jess have a week to decide if you want to stay or if you want to leave. But if you leave you can tell no one our family secrets. You understand that right?" she looked deeply into his eyes.

Paul returned his mother's gaze, almost lost in her deep blue eyes.

"And now it's time for your birthday present," Meg licked her lips seductively.

"Come give your mother a birthday kiss," she opened her arms wide.

Paul strode across the kitchen and leaned into his mother and kissed her cheek. She smelled wonderful and her full breasts pressed against his chest. He had never told her how many times that he'd kissed his mother and she had caused him to become erect but Meg knew the effect she had on both her sons.

She closed her arms around his neck and her lips found his, she opened her mouth. Paul had never kissed a woman open-mouthed before and this woman was his mother but it felt so right. It was the woman he loved and adored more than any woman in the world.

Paul tentatively probed his mother's mouth with his tongue. She reciprocated and pressed her body against him, she used her tongue to softly tease him. There was plenty of time to seduce her youngest son and she didn't want to scare him.

"My god you're so hard Paully. You're as big as your father," she gasped in his ear and squeezed him through his jeans.

"My father or my brother?" Paul whispered, feeling his cock press into his mother's belly.

"You know he's both, but I think you should treat him as your father," Meg kissed his nose playfully.

"But you are my son and my sons have special liberties with their mother. Let's say it's a family tradition, she stroked his cock through his jeans and Paul was scared that he was going to cum too soon.

"Want to see your birthday present Paully?" she licked her lips and smiled coyly at him.

"Of course I do mother," Paul said enthusiastically.

Meg disengaged from Paul and took a step back.

Meg took the hem of her dress in her hands and ever so slowly lifted it up her legs. Paul gasped when the coffee-coloured bands at the top of her stockings came into view; the silver clasps of her garters pulled the welts tight against his mother's legs. Then her creamy thighs came into view and finally the V of her white nylon panties. The panties were translucent and not particularly tight, he could see his mother's trimmed bush through them. Dewy pearls of vaginal secretions glistened on her pubis.

There was no doubt that she was aroused, she wasn't play-acting for him.

Paul stepped forward and reached out towards her panties.

"Can I touch them?" he whispered.

"I know you masturbate with my panties Paully; of course you can touch them," Meg smiled at him.

"But you're wearing them," he stated the obvious.

"For your birthday son. I know you like these ones especially because they are always wet with your cum when I pull them from the laundry hamper to wash them," his mother teased.

The scent of mother's cunt drifted up to his nostrils.

"And I love those stockings," he murmured.

"Which you also like to whack off into. Isn't that what teenage boys call it? Whacking off?" she grinned at him mischievously.

"Now that you've seen mine I think you should show me yours," his mother leaned in and nipped his ear.

Paul began to shake when his mother began to unzip his fly. He could hear vague murmuring coming from upstairs but Paul was oblivious to everything except his mother.

"You've seen it before. You used to wash it when I was younger. I can still remember it," Paul sighed.

"But I stopped when you were no longer a boy. Look how long and thick it is now," Meg freed his erection from his jeans, her red fingernails stark against the pale flesh of his phallus.

"Oh god mom; I don't think I can hold back... I'm going to come," Paul moaned.

Meg softly stroked her son's penis, paying no heed to his warning. She felt the meaty appendage throb and quiver in her fingers and suddenly it exploded. Meg placed her mouth on her son's and kissed him passionately as his scalding issue splashed on her wrist and sprayed onto her dress. She didn't mind, she just kissed Paully deeper and held him upright as his knees began to buckle.

The tremendous orgasm that washed over him was the most intense feeling Paul had ever felt. Only that very morning Paul had rubbed his cock on Jessica's swimsuit-covered ass when she was asleep in the sun near the creek and the resulting orgasm had been powerful but nothing as extreme as the pleasure he was feeling at the moment as his mother kissed him and gently stroked his cock as it spattered sperm all over her clothes. The feel of his mother's body, the smell of her perfume, her breasts pressed into his chest, his fingers stroking her stocking-clad thighs amplified the profound feelings of delight.

"I'm sorry mom," Paul whispered when his mother eventually broke the kiss.

"Nonsense son. I did it on purpose so that when you put it inside me for the first time you won't ejaculate too soon," Meg smiled at her son.

Paul looked at his mother. Her lipstick was smeared and she had sperm soaking into her skirt and semen running down one of her stockings. His semen.

Paul's cock was still sticking out of his jeans, upright and rigid.

"Let me help you," Meg unbuckled Paul's jeans and helped him shuck out of them and then pulled off his shirt and helped him get naked.

She ran her fingers over his tanned muscled body.

"Just like your father; even this," she whispered as ran her fingers down his chest, across his firm belly and then gripped his appendage.

She cupped his sac with her other hand and gently squeezed it as she leaned in and kissed him.

Paul rucked up his mother's dress and stroked her thighs, his fingers gently caressing her lustrous stockings. Meg rubbed her son's cock on her silky thigh, knowing that he would be delighted with the sensation of his sensitive cock on her nylon stocking.

"That's lovely mom," Paul breathed into her mouth.

"Well don't make mommy do all the work. Are you going to touch me?" Meg took his hand and placed it between her legs.

It was Paul's first time but he'd been instructed in the anatomy of the female sex organ. This very woman had instructed him and Jessica during their sex education and reproduction lessons. Paul had grown an erection under the kitchen table during the lesson sitting with his mother on one side of him and his sister on the other. Jessica had accidently rubbed her pantyhosed leg against his under the table. At least he presumed it had been an accident. In any even after the lesson he raced away to his room and masturbated into a pair of Jessica's discarded pantyhose.

"There you go," Meg placed her son's fingers into her cleft, only the gauzy nylon of her panties separated her son's fingers from her sex.

Paul could feel that his mother's panties were warm and moist. He could feel the outline of her cleft through the diaphanous fabric. He pushed his fingers into the crevice and opened her pink coral labia and found her clitoris. He gently circled it with his finger.

This time it was his mother's turn to become weak-kneed and Paul kept her upright while his hand was under her dress caressing her juicy cunt through her silky panties, his arm around her waist kept her upright and pressed against him, his tongue invaded her mouth.

His mother squeezed his cock in appreciation. He had only just climaxed but Meg sensed that her son was about to come again soon. She eased herself backward until she felt the edge of the kitchen table in the small of back.

Paul took the hint and lifted his mother so that she was sitting on the table. He stepped back and gazed at her sitting there with her legs wide open, her cum-spattered dress hiked up exposing her translucent white nylon panties loose around her labia, soaked with her juices, her blue eyes glittering with lust, her lipstick smeared like a slattern, her stockings soaked in her son's ejaculate that was still dribbling down towards her high heel.