Satyrday Nights

"But Mama," she said. "Shouldn't you be telling me about your boyfriend? Is it someone I know?"

"Oh, yes," Isabel replied calmly. "It certainly is. Why don't you take your shirt off, darling? Let Mama see if your titties are as nice as hers."

"Sure." She pulled off her shirt and dropped it heedlessly to the floor.

"Mmmm," Samara leaned forward and palmed one of her breasts. She pulled down one of the cups of her bra, and they looked back and forth, comparing.

"A little bit smaller but a little bit higher, don't you think, my love?" Isabel asked. Sam nodded in reply. "Don't worry. Once you have a baby or two you'll fill out a bit more. And if you're like me your sweet titties will stay nice and high and all the men will whistle at you, even when you're an old woman like me."

She stood up. "Well, let's go. Time for you to meet my lover. I hope you'll understand."

Samara made to pick up the shirt and put it back on, but was pulled along as Isabel took her hand and guided her out of the kitchen. As they walked down the hall to the closed door of her mother's bedroom, Samara tried to stop.

"Mama, I can't go in there like this! I'm not going to meet your lover with my boobs hanging out!"

"Don't be silly, dear one. You've known him your entire life." Isabel opened the door and guided Sam inside.

From the bed, her brother waved a hand, his cock gloriously erect.

"Hello, Sam. I like your outfit."

****

Samara nearly fell to her knees as the primal force of Owen's presence struck her. Lying there on the bed, fully aroused, he was the living embodiment of masculinity. His dark hair was rumpled, dropping to sweat-soaked points on his forehead and the back of his neck. His solid chest narrowed to a flat belly and slim, solidly muscled hips.

And his face. His dear, beloved face, that I have known since I was a baby. How gorgeous he is.

She glanced wildly between her brother and her mother. "You're lovers? How long has this been going on?"

Behind her, she felt Isabel's hands on her shoulders, softly stroking her, gentling her tense muscles. Her voice was amused.

"How long, Owen? An hour?"

"Oh, not even," her son replied. "Forty-five minutes at most." He flushed under Sam's glare.

"I think you should take her to bed, too, darling," Isabel said. "Look at her body. Isn't it beautiful?" Her hands were on Sam's ass now, fingers cradling the taut globes of her cheeks through the denim. Owen saw her hot eyes over Samara's shoulder as she dropped a swift kiss on the back of her neck.

Sam felt her resistance crumbling. Under her mother's gentle touch, her loins were warming, heat pooling at her center. She swallowed thickly through a throat gone suddenly dry, and took a staggering step forward.

"No," said her brother, and she stopped in her tracks. His voice was strong and firm. He looked at Isabel until she dropped her gaze. "Don't pressure her, Mama. Just because you and I are happy together doesn't mean this is something that Sam wants. If we are going to get through this, we are all going to have to agree on boundaries. The first one is this. No one comes to our beds unwilling. I have wanted you for years, even though I wouldn't admit it to myself. You wanted the same thing.

"If Samara wants me, that's fine. Because I want, I truly want her. Just as much...no. Exactly as much as I want you," he concluded, raising an eyebrow at his mother as she laughed softly.

"But if Sam doesn't want me, that is her decision. Hers alone. The only thing I ask," he said pleadingly, looking at his younger sister, "is that you keep our secrets for us, and not tell everyone how your big brother is boning your mother."

Samara nodded and blinked, shaking herself free from the fog of desire which had descended upon her. She looked around the small, comfortable bedroom, one window propped open to the warm evening breeze. On the bed was her big brother, his sweet goofy face open and honest as always. A step behind her was her gorgeous mother, slowly stripping off her lingerie, unwrapping her stupendous body.

And between them, herself, with only one choice to be made.

With firm, confident movements, she pulled off her cut-offs and her soaked panties, and hopped into bed with her brother, naked and ready for love.

"Are you kidding me, you doofus? I've wanted to fuck you since I found out what sex was! Now come here," she said, her voice a seductive purr, "and kiss me."

She knelt over him and lowered her face to his, opening her lips as he came up to meet her. A quick peck was followed by a swift brush of his lips against hers, making her tingle, then a long, passionate kiss, her hands behind his head, guiding him, keeping his mouth on hers.

She released her tongue, allowing it inside his mouth, moaning in pleasure as the sweet taste of his saliva overcame her senses. Shuddering, she felt his strong hands work their way up from her hips to her sides, and she twisted, moaning, as he tickled the vulnerable skin of her armpit.

Behind her the bed sagged as her mother climbed on to join them, Isabel's strong fingers gliding up her thighs, her head bending to place a series of kisses up the knobs of her spine.

Samara shuddered in sensuous pleasure. "God, Mama, if I had known you were so kinky, I would have suggested this years ago. When did you get horny for women?"

"I didn't," Isabel said placidly, her voice at odds with her hands, which now dove into the cleft of her buttocks, reaching towards the treasure of her sex. "I'm horny for my children. And to see my beautiful babies making love to each other...God, it makes me hot."

Owen moaned his agreement as the tip of his cock caught in Samara's folds. She looked down, grinning, and rocked her hips, teasing his phallus with her lips, her slickness preparing the way for his entrance.

"Oh, no," he breathed. "Not yet." He raised his head and cupped her breasts in his hands, his seeking mouth capturing a dark brown nipple. Flicking it with his tongue, he brought it achingly erect, then repeated the process with the other, until both were firm and hard. Then he made love to her breasts, kissing, licking, and fondling them until Samara could barely breathe. At times, her mother's hands came around to join her son's, and the sight of them on her tits drove Sam wild, white skin and dark skin meeting on her body.

She allowed her hips to sink lower, just a fraction of an inch, and sighed contentedly as the tip of Owen's cock slid past her lips and into her waiting vessel. Below her Owen gasped, and his hands tightened convulsively on her breasts, his strong grip stoking the fires of her passion.

She sank forward, hips rocking, just enough for the delightful friction of his cock to send waves of pleasure through her body, making her nipples tighten even more, her clit throbbing. She was vaguely aware of her mother bending lower, then gave a startled yelp as she felt her hair brush the tender skin of her thighs, and felt Owen jerk in startlement below her.

"Mama? Oh, God, Mama, what are you doing?" he groaned.

Samara didn't need an answer. She felt her mother's tongue dip deep into her folds, then stroke back down. As the feel of Isabel's tongue left her, Owen gave another spasm as she licked the length of his shaft.

She shook her head at her brother. "The only way to make her stop is to start screwing, big brother," she said softly. "Are you ready?"

At his nod, she sank low, impaling herself on him, groaning as his thick shaft spread her lips wide. She came to a halt, savoring the feel of his rod, filling her from lips to womb.

"Ha," she said trembling only a little. "To think that I was satisfied with Charlie's magic-marker dick," she added spitefully. She cupped Owen's cheek and looked lovingly into his eyes. "Are you ready?" she asked.

He nodded, and she lowered her chest to his mouth. Without a word being said, he knew what she wanted, and his hot mouth latched over her nipple, lips suckling, tongue flicking the turgid bud as she rocked her hips on his phallus, driving her pleasure higher.

Sweat pooled between her breasts and in the small of her back. Before she could even think of it her mother's tongue was there, licking it off like a mama cat bathing a kitten. Oh, sweet God, she thought. Their hands, their mouths, they're everywhere. She bottomed out at the end of another stroke and shuddered in pleasure. It's too much. Thank you. Thank you, God. Isabel's mouth nibbled the curve of her ass, hands caressing her thighs. Somehow, she knew when one hand left her it was to plunge her fingers into her soaking cleft, to bring herself to rapture, to join her children.

Owen's whisper brought her back to herself. His eyes were wide, the pupils dilated. "Sam, I'm going to...going to..."

"No!" she whispered fiercely, "Not yet." Instinctively she slowed her strokes, minimizing the contact between them. His shaft pulsed inside her, spasming weakly, but a quick look told her that they had avoided his climax. She slowed even more, watching as he bit his lip, focusing on the pain.

"Better?" she asked. He nodded. "I want the first time to be together, too, my lover." Lifting herself slightly, she ran her hand down to her dripping sex, her fingers unerringly finding her clitoris. With a nimble touch, she stroked the bud of flesh, hissing as her pleasure spun up into a crescendo.

She laid her other hand on her brother's cheek. He opened his eyes and gazed back at her. "Any second now," she said, her voice hitching, as the muscles of her belly began to tense. "Are you ready?"

He nodded solemnly. "Let's go, then," she exclaimed joyfully, and she picked up the rhythm again. One stroke, two, a dozen, twenty, and her muscles tensed, contracting, spasming, releasing in a flood of pleasure as her orgasm crashed down on her like a wave. Behind her Isabel gave a hoarse shout, then collapsed beside them, her face slack with fulfilled desire. And lastly, Owen, her sweet, beautiful brother, her friend, her lover, shot his hips up into her groin and scalded her womb with a fiery torrent of his seed.

****

A few minutes later, they lay happily tangled together, Owen in the middle, his arms around Isabel and Samara lying to either side. He bent and kissed Sam's breast idly as she laughed and finger-combed her dark hair, stretching her body out in a sensuous play of shadowed flesh. On the opposite side, Isabel cuddled in close, one hand curled possessively over his groin. Her eyes were warm with love and desire.

"So what next?" she asked, one hand reaching out to spin the bracelet around Owen's wrist. He sighed theatrically.

"Well, I've got tomorrow off. Hopefully we can hang out here for a while. But I still owe Anaya a phone call. We were thinking about getting together sometime." Samara made a questioning noise.

"Owen finally scored with Anaya," Isabel explained. Sam grunted approvingly and kissed him in congratulations.

"About time, bro."

"I didn't tell you that!" Owen said to his mother.

"You didn't need to, mi vida. All I had to do was look at your face when you said her name. You had that proud look that all men get when they make love to their dream-woman. Yes, that one," she giggled as Owen looked at her, confusion on his face.

"Ho ho. Very funny," he said, his cheerful voice belying his sour words. He ran his hands down their backs in unison, smiling as they moved in closer to him, their warm bodies arousing him again. Isabel murmured appreciatively as her hand was forced up and away from his groin by his rising phallus.

"But I've been doing some thinking lately. I'll explain it all tomorrow," he continued, as the tide of passion grew, and he rolled over onto his mother's body, his arms bracing him above her, his cock probing at her opening. Beside him, Samara caught her breath, her hands dipping to her pussy as the heat rose in her again. "But I am beginning to think I might have a religious calling.

"What would you say if I decided to open a church?"

The End