Ralph Wrecked It Pt. 03

My biggest fear was that it was Ethan, my ex, with some or all of his brats in tow. He had shown up a few times before at night at the end of long road trips, the wife dropped at home for her Valium and kids having slept for hours in the car and possessed of surplus demonic energy. The children were fascinated with their eccentric stepbrother Caleb and his multiple video game setups. Ethan's pre-teen stepdaughters also had a crush on my tall blonde son and his charming accent. Ethan and I were still friends more or less, and he was probably looking for me to have coffee in the kitchen and be his sounding board for complaints about his job, things he couldn't discuss with his wife, since she was part of the problem. My illicit plans for the night were fucked.

Regardless of who the new arrivals were, there was no reason for a normal mother to be in black lace, nipples lurking, tits freely jiggling in her son's bedroom. I bolted off the sofa. Think! Think! Think!

I raced into the bathroom, chest bouncing. My son's Union Jack flag bathrobe, a gift I sent him from the UK, was on a hook; but no, it would be a dead giveaway. I found a dark green Polo button down of my son's in the hamper. Even though he never left the house, he wore nice shirts and ties for online team and client meetings for his job. I formulated my story, that my laptop froze while I was in bed using it, and I came up here to ask him for help with it. Lots of women slept in old oversized dress shirts; that would explain my presence bare-legged and without mammary support. I hoped the ruse would buy me enough time to duck out of the chaos and go change. I hoped Caleb had at least closed all the laptop's porn folders.

After I yanked the black nightgown up off my torso and stuffed it in the bottom of the hamper, I caught myself in the mirror, and had a sudden wave of remorse. I was nearly naked in my son's bathroom, makeup and hair done, caught trying to seduce him like a predator. What the hell was I doing? My own son! My stomach knotted harshly as I buttoned up the shirt. I was a horrifically ill person. Throwing myself at a willing old man was one thing, but what I was now attempting was totally depraved. This was no trailer park; I live in a million dollar house. I need to be better than this. The solution to my guilt? I would stop this all immediately, apologize to Caleb tomorrow, and seek help for both of us before I ruined his life. I was glad my ex showed up. It jolted me into reality. I wiped off my lipstick, pulled off the false eyelashes, and mussed my hair. I flushed the lashes down the toilet and washed my hands as if I had simply been peeing. Armed with my new resolve, I walked out of the bathroom.

When I stepped out, I was shocked to see who the visitor was, and it didn't help the situation. These two could almost telepathically sense what was going on with each other. Caleb was hugging his older brother, Trevor, whose carry-on bag with its airline tags was sitting at his feet. I felt even worse at my perversion.

"Surprise Mum!" my eldest son said, looking out from their embrace. "I hope you don't mind me giving the Uber chap the gate code."

"Of course not." I kept an arm across my chest, now like cradling a pair of cantaloupes. Caleb smirked at my use of his shirt as a disguise, and had luckily shut down the laptop, its screen a solid purple.

Impatient and hyperactive from the start, Trevor was born a month early on a hot, late July '97 morning. Nick was back in my pussy as soon as it recovered and Caleb arrived just over eleven months after Trevor. The two brothers, sometimes mistaken for fraternal twins, had quite the bond, growing up with Trevor having been his brother's protector. My oldest was in India when the bathroom video debacle occurred, and likely would have prevented Caleb from being kicked out of the house, telling his auntie to stick it. Trevor had spent a year or so during upper school as a Bible-quoting church member, but was eventually lured away by alcohol and hoards of slutty girls, God bless them. Still, I was sure he would not approve of his mother luring his brother into such heretical sins.

Physically, my sons were nearly opposites. Dark-haired, Trevor was shorter and stockier, quite muscular, not unlike Ralph had been in his youth. He walked on to his University soccer, ahem, I mean football, team and now played semi-pro rugby. His hair was nearly shaved on the sides, the rest pulled back into a hipster ponytail high on the back of his head. His eyes glowed clear blue like his brother's, one of their genetic bequests from me.

Unlike his brother, Trevor had the gift of gab, a consummate bullshit artist like his dad. My oldest sold Land Rovers and Jaguars at his father's dealership when not playing sports.

Trevor showed up here unexpectedly in the States from time to time, as he had kept in touch with some of his early childhood American friends all these years. He had run across a few expatriated Aussies as well, and they patrolled the D.C, area bars using their down-under charm to get laid. He had visited just over a month before.

I assumed this was one of those trips, confirmed by his comments about a music festival as I leaned forward and hugged him gingerly, still unable to avoid my breasts accosting him.

Riddled with guilt, I re-hid my wayward chest cross-armed with the closed laptop as I made my excuses and tried to go down to my bedroom to change and hopefully procure some Cabernet from our loft wine fridge. I had some serious things to think about.

But, I could never say no to my boys. Trevor insisted on celebrating his arrival with some whiskey shots down in our saloon-themed basement rec room, home to a stocked bar, pinball machines, billiards table, and a window wall overlooking the swimming pool. I tried to detour to my bedroom and a waiting sports bra and sweats, but Trevor wouldn't let go of my forearm, pulling me behind him down the stairs.

"If we let you go, Mum, you'll hide in your room and we'll never see you again 'till morning." he quipped, "This is just a quick trip," then taking the laptop from me and setting on a side table. He seemed to recognize my tense mood. Apparently amped up on airline coffee, chatted about this girl he was supposed to take to the festival as we descended the remaining two flights of stairs. A couple shots and it was off to bed for me, I insisted.

Once in the basement, my sons actually blocked my escape paths, standing on either side of me, all of us behind the eight foot-long bar, prompting me to bartend and pour six shots of Jack Daniels. The two gulps of Tennessee mash burned my throat and I used my coughs as an excuse to attempt to leave. Covering my swaying chest was becoming a real nuisance.

"Mum, I just got here," Trevor said, sounding hurt.

"Okay, but let me go change, I ran up to Caleb's room because that dammed laptop froze again and ..."

"Mum," Caleb interrupted, looking guilty. "I've got a surprise. Hope you won't be cross."

I looked at him, confused, my head already reeling from the liquor. I suddenly realized the neighborhood security code had changed since my oldest's last visit. Caleb must have

known his brother was visiting after all, and texted him the code. Normally he would have told me his brother was coming. Shit. They were up to something.

7

"Trev knows. I told him everything."

"Everything what?" I replied, ready to deny all my devious actions, and claim Caleb misunderstood my intent, although the intent of a handjob is pretty obvious. Worst case I would admit to some serious psychological issues. I sensed some kind of legal intervention was forthcoming. I suddenly pictured myself in a courtroom, very embarrassed, in front of a judge. .

"Great Grandmum Darleen's diary, the letter, you and Ralph..."

I froze once more. The imagined mental picture changed to a psych ward. They were having me declared mentally incompetent and institutionalized so they could have the family fortune immediately. There was no point, however; based on their trust funds, my sons were both well off already. Still, tears filled my eyes. I had fucked up badly. I felt horridly ashamed, standing, nearly exposed, no bra. no pants. Caught with no board meeting power-bitch-suit, armor, as it was, to defend myself.

"See, we had this pact, Mumsy," Caleb explained, his eyes flashing.

A pact to commit me; I was right. I fell into their trap. I shouldn't have spoiled them as the absentee 'nice mum' from America that showed up in Canberra a few times a year with expensive gifts. I shouldn't have been so lenient with them, trying to be the 'cool mum', when they spent their annual two weeks here in Virginia. But then...

"We were on the phone, and Cale told me about those Facebook pics," Trevor, grinning, moved close and put his arm around my back at the waist. Despite my distress, it felt really nice.

Ah, 'the' Facebook pics. Several months ago, a sorority sister saw fit to post an album of decade-old reunion photos, most of them revealing the poolside antics of a bunch of early-thirties moms, wasted and over-celebrating time away from the husbands and kids. Of course I was front and center in many pics, having had my pups early on and had since regained my bikini body. The tops were thin and the water cold. The photos were nearly site policy violations, images a normal mother would prefer her male offspring not be exposed to. I had no idea my boys had seen them.

Trevor continued. "And checking out the pics, long story short, the subject, um...well...came up," he said, uncharacteristically at a loss for words and beginning to sound serious.

"The subject?" I asked.

"Kind of a truth or dare y' know." Caleb said, shrugging. "At first, neither thought the other serious...Trev asked if I had seen you braless since I moved in, and.."

"He said yeah, quite a bit," Trevor took over, "and I said I was jealous. We both admitted we would fancy seeing you...naked."

"Way better than the cousins," my blonde son said.

"We confessed to getting major wood just thinking about it. In the end we agreed. yes...we...hypothetically, you know, would..." Trevor said.

"Just come out and say it," I demanded, eager to hear it, my heart pounding.

Trevor took a deep breath. "We want to shag you, Mum. Good and proper. But we knew it would never happen, so nothing else was said, at least until..."

Again I was in tears. Both because of the flattery of their merely considering it, but also because of my fears that my forty-four year old body would disappoint Trevor. I was no longer the skinny, fit bitch in those pics. I had starved myself for that damned reunion. Caleb was on board with his MILF mum, but Trevor had bedded nothing but a cadre of lithe young women these last several years, even a days-barely legal, distant member of the Royal family, Lady Something-shire. After decades of obnoxious confidence, I disliked having to doubt my attractiveness.

"You...you know I'm not the girl in those pictures anymore," I stuttered nervously.

"Mum, I don't care if you're a hundred kilos with pink curlers in your hair! It's because it's you! I got on a plane as soon as I could! I'm not about to miss this!" Trevor said as his other arm slid across my stomach, barely missing the underside of my breasts, which were quivering along with my whole body, I realized. His arms tightened, seemingly sensing I was weak in the knees, my head spinning. My son's arms around me felt comforting, calming, and yes, for the first time, I allowed myself to be aroused by his touch.

"Hell, I thought he was scamming when he let me in on the family's dirty laundry. Our pact was to shag you together, if we ever got the chance," Trevor said. I could feel his warm breath on my cheek. "That's why Cale was holding back , except for the hand jobs, waiting for when I could fly out."

"So, what d'you say, Mumsy?" Caleb asked, his blue eyes opened wide and focused on mine, a rarity.

"So there's no skank and no music festival?" I asked with alcohol induced naivety as they laughed and looked at each other knowingly. "You're here for me?"

Was I dreaming? Were my sons telling me what I thought they were? Was something I deviously, pathologically craved even more than being bedded by Uncle Ralph really going to happen?

"Oh my boys! My darlin' boys!" Caleb had also moved closer by then and I reached up and brought their faces adjacent to mine I began frantically flipping my head from side to side, kissing their cheeks and mouths. I was humming, sobbing from joy, and professing my love for them.

Yes, I was still the woman I had seen in Caleb's bathroom mirror upstairs: sick, perverted, deviant, wholly immoral, selfish, egomaniacal. But I suddenly was relived of guilt, as my sons, my virile, terrific offspring, possessed the family curse as well, and were ready to copulate with their own mother. The armor I had tried to envision, the defense against revealing my true self, was suddenly unneeded. I wanted that armor pierced, penetrated, destroyed. The quasi-reserved, sedate mother they knew would cease to exist. The real, perverse, vile Myra June was about to appear to her sons, finally, but with a big dose of teary-eyed sentimentality.

"So, Mumsy, is that a yes?" Trevor asked, quite unnecessarily, laughing as the brothers fist-bumped each other. .

I nodded my head, unable to speak. Tears were streaming down my cheeks. Sweetly, Caleb handed me a fresh bar towel to wipe my face with.

"How d'you want this to go?" Trevor asked. "Upstairs? Flip a coin?" His grin was insidious.

"Loser only gets to watch...?" Caleb offered in a half question.

"Ha! I don't think sho!" I said a bit loudly, realizing I was slurring. The Jack Black had compounded the wine I had earlier. I had ceased hiding my swaying chest, holding the side of each son's face. "Both of you brats, right here, right now!"

Moments later I was euphoric as my tongue was in gorgeous Trevor's mouth for the first time. I moaned loudly and melodically with forbidden satisfaction as he held me lovingly. The hungered whiskey kisses with my first born quickly escalated into sloppy, noisy smacks and I giggled like a schoolgirl, as if I was clandestinely kissing her crush from study hall, risking discovery by a teacher. The secrecy this utter perversion demanded only served to magnify the excitement. Soon they traded me back and forth. .

When lip locked or tongue sparring with one son, the other's heated mouth traveled my ear, neck, or collar bone. My hands wandered around their broad shoulders and hard pectorals and deltoids. As my slit began to feel like an air fryer between my legs, their hands began to grasp me, arms, tummy, back. I was surprised at their discipline in not grabbing my breasts, but I was within reach of their bulging cocks and was savoring the anticipation of touching them as well. I felt air on my cleavage as Caleb tugged at the buttons of the shirt I stole from him. Moments later the shirt fell off my torso, held only across my lower back by my bent elbows.

"Whoa ho ho!" Trevor said through a satisfied laugh about the new arrivals. His eyes widened.

Topless in front of my sons! I had fantasized about a way to make it happen before now, but a beach or pool opportunity for an 'accidental' flash or loss of a bikini top never presented itself; there was always someone around. Of course since Caleb's moving in, I had wondered around the house topless at the most logical places, returning overheated from our home gym, or coated with suntan oil after the pool, a staged trip from my bedroom to the loft mini-fridge, or the lengthiest, having stripped in the laundry room downstairs. None were successful at a chance meeting with my reclusive son. Regardless, this moment was worth the wait. Suddenly all eyes were on my breasts, corpulent, sides stretch marked a bit, sagging more than I'd like, and pale except where the angular tan lines crossed very near the edge of the rosy, tightened areolas. It's been a constant struggle to keep the pigmented flesh from peeking out of most of the swimsuits I've worn.

"Remember these?" I joked and held them up and out to the side a bit, giving my offspring room to orally dive in without their heads colliding while they stepped out of their shorts. My view of their flailing erections was all too brief, blocked by them leaning toward my chest. Trevor licked at my right side like it was a snow cone, and Caleb's open mouth descended downward to ingest a whole nipple. It took widely parted lips to completely engulf even the most condensed, solidly peaked flesh I had to offer. I hadn't simultaneously had mouths on both tits, sans milk at least, since my final year in college, hazing nude, handcuffed, manure-slathered female freshman pledges forced to suckle a 'chick'.

In my mundane basement, which had suddenly become a den of perverse iniquity, I leaned my head back eyes closed, reveling in the glandular, sexual burn of my sons' attention. Soon I looked down once more and watched their wet, warm mouths draw my flesh inward, or grip and stretch it into sharp peaks as their hands caressed and squeezed, warping the spherical mass. Finally I pushed the boys away, and slapped the bar top a few times with both palms, then slid my panties down past my knees.

"Up heeeere," I directed in a drunken slur as I bicycle kicked out of the neon green thong. My vacated nipples, rock hard and glossy with my boys' saliva, quaked and pointed at the floor briefly as I reached down and hooked the wet panties on a finger. Raised to shoulder level. I slapped both young men with them playfully across their grinning faces as they hopped onto the bar, stiff cocks wagging and pointing above my head.

My sons sat adjacent to each other, bare-assed on the bar, and checked out my number 2 guard-trimmed bush in the midst of the wide pale triangle of my home-only poolside bikinis; the public now only saw one-piece suits more appropriate for my age. I gathered my shoulder length, bleached blonde 'mop' into a pony tail and tied it off with the panties for lack of a scrunchy. It would make my hair smell like pussy, but this entire room was going to smell like pussy before the night was over. While my arms were raised, I twisted quickly at the waist a few times, flipping my quivering melons from side to side for my sons' amusement and applause.

"More Tats, Mum?" Trevor asked in surprise. "Yeah well," I shrugged and grinned about the Quarter-sized butterfly on my right pelvis. On the left opposite there were three postage stamp-sized face cards, two adjacent kings, and a queen off to the side by herself. They leaned in closer to look, probably just as much to look at my crotch and the waves of heat drifting out of it.

"Um, that's the three of us," I said in response to their questions of the Vegas and vodka-born ink. They of course knew about the three back-of-neck Cantonese characters I got in Hong Kong years before. Peace, love, and hope, I think.

I had of course seen Caleb's nude adult physique either from the waist up, or, more so lately, the waist down, but not all at once. He was the spitting image of his lanky father. Trevor, having extracted himself from the Southern Hemisphere winter, and flown twenty-two hours to come and fuck his mommy, displayed only faint remainders of tan lines from his board shorts. Despite his stocky frame, much like that of his ancestor Ralph's, and bulging, tattoo-covered muscles, the star of the show was his beautifully thick cock, reddish, vein-adorned, and almost angry looking. Along with his brother's long pole, they were just what I had fantasized about.

I moved in front of them, my tits each mashed against one of their knees, and grabbed both warm, silky-skinned erections. Another moment for my cherished memories. It had also been my college days since I held two boners at once. Those beer-fueled, sloppy topless frat house suck offs were fun but paled in comparison with this moment where my own offspring were rock hard, just for me. I began yanking on their shafts harshly.