Seward Valentine Trifecta

Dear Reader, this is an entry in the Literotica Valentine's Day Contest 2024, where Literotica writers explore all the ways love can manifest itself and affect our lives, from kinky romance to anguished loss. This particular story is definitely on the kinky romance end of things, with a very kinky but still highly romantic family.

While the Seward menfolk are horny studs, always ready to romance, seduce, or dominate a woman, it is definitely Mother Seward who sets the pace for the family, especially in this story. For that reason, I'm also offering this for the Pink Orchid 2024: Story Event for Women-Centric Erotica.

Enjoy as many stories as you can, and please take the time to reward your favorites by scoring them.

Kudos and thanks to Duleigh and Omenainen for hosting the Valentine's Day and Pink Orchid events this year.

Thank you to Jasmine Walker for early feedback that helped shape the rest of the story.

"Teenager" always means 18 or 19 if the person is involved in adult sexual activity.

Remember to check the Tags before reading to ensure the activity portrayed is what you want to spend your time reading.

SEWARD VALENTINE TRIFECTA

Everybody wants to be Mommy's Valentine.

Chapter 1

Aiden Seward didn't call out a greeting as he entered the kitchen of the family home via the interior door from the garage. He knew his father, James, and older brother, Jalen, wouldn't be home yet. And as for his mother, Aisha, all three menfolk knew to be quiet when entering, in case the online-college professor was in the middle of a live Zoom session with one of her math classes.

Crossing the kitchen into the open-plan living area, the high school senior looked across the living room and saw the door to the den that served as his mother's home office was closed, hinting that she was in session with students or doing other work.

He dropped his book bag at the foot of the stairs that led up to the family bedrooms and continued on to the front door. Grabbing the mailbox key from its hook, he went out and gathered the day's collection. As an 18-year-old born into an already electronic era, Aiden generally saw the mail as a junk pile of advertising circulars, but the first man home had the task of emptying the mailbox. Today, however, the task provided some excitement. Among the junk was a thick envelope addressed to his father. It was from the FBI.

The lifelong baseball star moved quickly and gracefully as he hurried back into the house, dropped the junk mail in its usual place on the entry hall table, and began crossing the living room to his mother's office. He knew he wasn't supposed to interrupt her at work but was sure she'd be just as interested as he was in what the Bureau wanted with his dad now. He knew the Seward patriarch, who was lead security engineer at a data storage company, had been involved in a big cybercrime case starting some three months back, just before Halloween, but thought his father's role in that was finished. Apparently not.

When his mother came suddenly bursting out of her office, Aiden jumped and nearly dropped the envelope. Aisha Seward was a sight.

As was typical in these days of remote work, she wore a simple but classy cotton blouse of a light pastel color up top and skin-tight black yoga pants below. One was for the camera, the other for comfort. As a hot-for-teacher archetype, teaching mostly 18- through 20-year-olds who weren't math majors, Mrs. Seward was careful not to let her charms distract too much from the dry topics of algebra and trig. For example, while her blouse couldn't completely hide her magnificent rack, it certainly downplayed things. Not a bit of her deep, honey-colored cleavage was ever visible to her computer camera.

However, that cleavage was becoming increasingly exposed to young Aiden as he watched his mother work near frantically to undo the buttons of the blouse. More arresting, however, was her face. Mom looked pissed! Then Aiden registered that she was talking to herself. Well, more like growling and bitching to herself. He distinctly heard "asshole" and "little prick" in there somewhere.

When Aisha finally realized that she was about to charge right into her youngest child, she jumped higher than Aiden had and yelped.

"What the fuck?!" she barked. "What are you doing?"

Aiden threw up his hands, framing his wide-eyed face in the universal gesture of surrender.

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry, baby," Mother Seward said immediately. "One of my asshole students just pissed me off royally; you're okay."

"Good thing he wasn't in a classroom with you," said Aiden. "I can just see you going over a desk at him."

Aisha gave a wry smile. "What I'd really like to do is kick the entitled misogynist prick right in his over-valued balls."

"Ouch," said Aiden with a cringe, and lowered his hands in front of his crotch. "So why were you ripping your clothes off?"

"What? Oh, yeah. I was just going to change my top and go out for a run to burn off my anger." As a former high school and collegiate track star, Aisha Seward had kept up her daily training, and tacking on an extra three miles or so was a common method for ridding herself of negative energy.

Then the 40-year-old beauty narrowed her eyes and really looked at her handsome 18-year-old stud of a son. "On the other hand," she growled. "Maybe there's a better way to get my mind right."

She stepped to him, grabbed the hand that wasn't holding the envelope, turned, and headed back to her office, pulling him behind. Once she crossed the threshold, she spun him forward and released his hand. Aiden half-stumbled and half-fell onto the leather loveseat that formed part of Aisha's version of a traditional professor's office. Without a thought, the entranced teen tossed the no-longer-very-exciting envelope onto the side table.

His mother still had the look of a big cat on the prowl as she shut the door behind her. She finished undoing the buttons of her blouse while closing the distance between them. When she shrugged the conservative garment to the floor, she exposed its counterbalance. To make up for having to dress down for her horndog college freshmen and sophomores, Professor Seward often wore decidedly nonconservative undergarments. Today's bra was a unique design, like super pasties. The front bits were traditional heavy material to prevent her nipples from showing or poking through the blouse, but they weren't much bigger than her palms. The nipple covers were edged in a narrow margin of lace and then there was nothing, except for thin straps attaching the small cups to the shoulder and chest straps, like the wire cage that held a champagne cork in place. That left acres of soft breast to bulge out all around the sides.

The tall, athletic woman didn't stop when she got to the sofette but kept going until she was on her knees on the cushions, straddling her son's thighs and pressing her bountiful bosom directly into his face. Aiden, being the star shortstop that he was, hesitated not an instant in making the play as it came at him. His hands immediately reached around to the brassiere's catch, released it, and pulled the lingerie that was now only a hindrance out of the way. This enabled his lips and tongue to explore, relish, and nigh on worship the warm, soft, puff pastries topped with large almonds.

From there, everything accelerated.

Aisha pulled her tits away so she could get to his mouth with hers. The kiss skipped tender and loving and went straight into raunchy hunger. His hands replaced his lips on her 38D's, and hers went up under his t-shirt to explore his own strong, naked chest.

At 5'11 and a fit 165, Aiden was the shortest and slightest of the three Seward men, but not by much, and he was definitely no wimp. He soon manhandled his mother onto her back on the loveseat and stripped the yoga pants off her big, beautiful ass and down the powerfully muscled, yet sensually curved legs.

Then he dropped to his knees on the floor, draped those legs over his shoulders and pressed his face into her crotch. He didn't attack her flower the way he had her breasts because he was there to warm her up. To warm her up while he adroitly worked off his shoes and socks and then undid his pants.

Aisha, meanwhile, took care of his shirt, reaching down and pulling it up. She broke his lip contact with her vulva for just a second before she had the garment over his head and flying somewhere behind him.

As soon as Aiden felt and tasted his mother's delicious nectar beginning to run, he popped to his feet and shoved his pants and briefs to the floor. He paused for a moment, scoping out the best way to take her, but just as he began to move again, she put up her hand.

"Wait," said Aisha. "I have an idea. Come with me." Then she was getting to her feet and crossing over to her desk. She rolled her ergonomic chair to the side, then bent over and began working on her keyboard. Aiden paused, mesmerized by the gorgeously full but muscular ass pointing back at him, yet not quite sure what to make of her typing. He was even more confused when one of her screens filled with an avatar image of a hipster dude with a man-bun and sculpted beard.

Aiden froze a second; did she really mean to livestream herself taking her own son's cock? A closer look at the screen calmed those fears. The image was clearly just his mother's marker for this particular student. Underneath the blank-faced avatar he saw, Troy Reynolds followed by the word asshole in parentheses, with three exclamation marks. This must be the fuckwad student who'd pissed his mother off so bad.

Aisha's hands went from the keyboard to the edge of the desk, and she looked back at him over her shoulder. "Show this jackass how a real man treats a woman. Fuck me like a cheap whore." Aiden mentally shrugged; apparently his mother wanted to vocalize what she couldn't say directly to Troy Reynolds (asshole!!!).

Aiden put his right hand to his mouth and sucked on the middle and ring fingers. He got all around and between them with his tongue as he worked up his saliva. When they were well lubricated, they moved between his mother's spread legs and began working to open her labia. Hey, even a cheap whore deserves proper attention.

While his right hand swiftly and surely drilled the MILF's sex to bring her own lubrication to the surface, his left hand waited, palm open in front of his mouth. As soon as he'd worked up another mouthful of spit, Aiden let it fly. Then his left hand was on his already growing shaft, quickly stroking it to full hardness. When he'd achieved both of his preparatory goals, the high schooler guided his throbbing prick to the hole from which he'd entered the world more than eighteen-and-a-half years earlier.

Aiden bent sharply backwards at the waist so he could see his engorged cockhead slide up and down the swelling labia, teasing them open. Then he froze in place. "Oh, shit," he said softly. "Um, Mom? I don't have... Do you have any--"

"No," she cut him off. "But I can really feel you this way and it's what I want. Take me bareback."

The boy's urgency was almost as high as his mother's, yet still he hesitated, "Are you sure—"

"Take me!" she repeated more forcefully. So he did, just as forcefully as she'd requested it.

"Oh, fuck, that's it," his mother growled, as her forehead dropped to the desktop between her bracing hands. She continued to growl, gasp, and grunt as her youngest child developed his rhythm and took ownership of his cheap whore's cunt.

Aisha's head suddenly raised, and she glared at the vapid avatar on the monitor. "Are you watching, you self-entitled dumbshit? Not only can this high school student run laps around your pathetic efforts at math; he fucks like a dream. Think about that the next time you jack your tiny dick."

Aiden had heard the term hate fuck in passing, and while he was pretty sure this wasn't that, strictly speaking, he still began fucking his mother's hot cunt with the same angry aggression she was expressing toward her student. And it was apparently exactly what Professor Seward wanted because she began pushing back even harder against the desk to maximize the impact of her son's pelvis banging into her ass and his seven-plus inches punching into her pussy.

Although he'd only started fucking about seven months before, young Aiden Seward had proved himself both a natural and a fast study. Now he was able to hold back his climax, even during the most amazing sessions, to be sure he didn't finish too fast to allow the woman to also come. Today, however, he wasn't going to have to hold back, thankfully. They'd only been at it ten minutes or so and already he could see the signs that his mother was getting ready to blow. Damn, she was a hot one. When one hand left the desk and slid beneath her belly to her clit, the teenager entered the homestretch with her. Soon he was emptying his balls with what felt like enough energy to squirt right through her cervix into her womb. The fire hose blast was apparently the final trigger for his incredibly hot, wonderfully perverse mother, because she immediately began bucking beneath him and her tight box squeezed him even tighter as she noisily hitched her climax to his.

The last spasmodic thrusts, the masculine grunts, and the warm squirt of semen deep inside her fired off Aisha's Pavlovian response and her orgasm roiled through her. "Yes, yes, yes," she chanted as she felt her son charging for Home. Then one long, "Ooohhhhhh..." wavered and built and finally crescendoed in a full-throated wail of needful pleasure.

Chapter 2

Mother and son followed up their frantic, angry mating with a much gentler, but even more sensuous cleanup session. On the floor in front of the loveseat was a large, well-padded flokati rug. Aiden lay on it supine. His mother lay on top of him in a classic sixty-nine. She held his flaccid penis softly in her mouth, washing it as lovingly as a mother cat grooming its kitten. She savored their mixed flavors and had to hold herself back from really going to work on him, knowing from delightful experience how quickly the teenager could recover for a round two. But they didn't have time for that just now. His older brother Jalen would probably be home soon and then the boys' father James not long after that.

Now, Aisha having hot, random sex with any of the three Seward men was nothing that had to be hidden. Not since James had recruited Jalen into a summer internship as his highly-sexed mother's spare cock the previous June and then Aiden had joined the newly formed Seward Family Services (SFS) in August. However, while Mrs. Seward was now a well- and happily-used MILF in her home, she still avoided becoming a total free-use slut by compartmentalizing her encounters with her main and two spare cocks.

But the enthusiastic way young Aiden was eating his creampie out of her well-fucked twat was starting to make Aisha wonder if maybe they did have enough time for a round two after all. Damn, but the boy loved to eat some sloppy pussy, and he was so good at it. But no, not today. She released the cock that was starting to come back to life and did a push up to get up off of her son's beautiful body. She had to thrust her powerful hamstrings to break loose of the grip that was trying to keep her swampy sex glued to his handsome face.

"No, baby, gotta get moving," she declared as she popped up off the boy, who moaned in disappointment. She spider-walked backwards until her face was above his, then lowered herself to kiss him. She shivered when she caught the renewed taste of their mixed juices from his lips. All three SFS lovers would gladly eat his creampie from her when it fit the mood and circumstances, but Aiden was definitely the most enthusiastic and it gave her a special thrill.

Aisha broke the kiss, got to her feet, and walked over to a sideboard where a roll of paper towels sat on a vertical wooden spindle. She ripped off a sheet and gave her trim bush a good wipe before wiggling back into her yoga pants. She held the towel out toward Aiden, but he shook his head no with a small leer.

"I could feel you already got every drop," he said, as he recovered and redonned his own briefs and pants. He followed with his t-shirt as his mother put her blouse back on, sans brassiere. When she opened her office door and began stepping through, the boy picked up his socks and shoes and followed her barefoot.

"Oh, hey, wait," he said as he crossed the threshold. He went back into the room and recovered the manila envelope.

"What's that?"

"It's for Dad. From the FBI."

"Really?" She took the envelope from him. The markings, including a postmark from Langley, Virginia, certainly looked authentic. A sound from behind her drew her attention that way. It was Jalen, walking through the front door.

After eight months of screwing his mother all over the house, the 19-year-old college freshman quickly spotted the signs of recent SFS activity. His mother's normally perfect hair disheveled and her staid blouse open at the top, with clearly no bra underneath. His barefoot brother, carrying sock and shoes, with t-shirt hanging out when Aiden was a tuck-it-in kind of guy.

"So," he drawled, "am I interrupting anything?"

"Dad got a package from the FBI," Aiden said in reply. "Have you heard of anything going on?"

The boys' father was the Data Security Officer at DB Data, with the D and B officially standing for the owners' names, Drummond and Boudreaux, while everyone there called it Damned Big Data. Jalen had done a summer work-study internship at DBD, and now worked there part time as an employee while taking a full load of classes. So, it was possible he'd be more up to speed on what was happening in the aftermath of the attempted data breach the previous autumn that had first connected their father to the Bureau.

The older teen suspected they were deflecting from being caught almost in flagrante delicto, until his mother handed over the manila envelope, which clearly held at least ten pages. He'd seen similar paperwork between the Bureau and DBD since the October attack, although most of the communication had been via electronic means. Then he noticed something different.

"This is from the FBI Academy," he said. "Everything else I've seen has been from FBI Headquarters in Washington." However, he was as clueless as the others as to what might be inside the package.

Chapter 3

"C'mon, Dad! The FBI? What's up?" Aiden finally asked when his father had volunteered nothing all through dinner. The youngest Seward looked around the table and got a supporting nod from his 11-month-older brother Jalen, while his mother merely glanced at her husband, apparently trying to remain neutral.

Earlier, his mother had told the "Irish Twins" that she knew their father had had continuing contact with the Feds ever since the October attack but since it had elements of both a commercial criminal act and a possible threat to national security, there were limits to what he was able to share. While clearly a little peeved at being left in the dark, she'd taken the high road of reminding the boys that even if she did know, it wouldn't be her place to spread their father's news. Yes, the boys were both adults now, but their parents still expected and hoped for their respect, including respecting their privacy.