Size Queen House Slaves Ch. 03

"Get out of my room." She couldn't stand me putting a spotlight on her failure.

I felt a little victorious, zipping up, closing my math book, and returning to my room. It was nearly time for Dad to come home.

Mom knocked on my door. She opened it without permission, just wide enough for her face. "I heard you yelp in pain, Craig. What happened?"

"It was nothing."

"It sounded like something." A mother learns every noise her kids make.

Mom's intrusion was both timely and inconvenient. I had wanted to jerk off, but I didn't want to expose Nell's privacy. "Mom, I told you that Nell is monitoring my rash. She got a little carried away. It was nothing. We spent most of our time studying."

Mom's face went through multiple expressions before settling on determination. She pushed into the room and closed the door. "Let me see it."

I hesitated. I had lied about the ointment helping, but there wasn't a hint of rash on my groin. What was she expecting to see? I considered denying her request.

I wanted to fuck my mother - let's be clear about my motives. However, if I showed my cock now, in the hope of snagging her pussy later, I would end up being a slave to my cock as much as I wanted the Williams women to be.

"I'd rather not." I put that out there.

She reacted vexed. I sensed she wanted to see my dick for more than checking the status of my supposed rash. This was what I had been working on, to keep Mom and Sis thinking about my prick without flashing it blatantly in their faces.

"Tell me the truth, Craig." Her lower lip trembled. "Are you having sex with your sister?"

Having sex. Now that's a tricky phrase. Prez Bill Clinton said, much to his discredit, "I did not have sex with that woman." Aside from his horrible implications towards a relatively powerless Monica, she was totally giving him blow-jobs! They didn't fuck, but in my mind a cum is a cum. Her only discredit was not swallowing to keep her dress clean!

Why his bit of power abuse was a national crisis I'll never understand when a few years later the successor President and Co. murdered a million Iraqis and got away scot-free. I guess it's just politics in America.

The politics I had to deal with were about not getting my ass kicked out on the street. "Mom, sit down." I indicated my chair.

She shrugged, threw a leg across it, squatted, and sent a warning glare over the wooden back.

"Nell and I are fooling around a little. You already know that. I'm asking you not to pry-"

I interrupted myself to prevent her from interrupting. "Yes, you have every right to intervene when your children are on a trajectory to lock their bodies together in the most shameful ways. What you don't have a right to do is be a hypocrite."

Mother's eyes fumed with angst, but she let me finish.

"Now do you want to see my dick?"

She seethed. "Yes, damn you." She took a deep breath. She grumbled a continuous stream of frustration while I refrained from exposing myself. Mom stood up after a minute of being denied. She hadn't wanted to see my dick so much as she wanted to find out what she was missing out on. Her lungs chugged like a brick house steam engine on her way out of my room.

"FUCK, YES!" I howled shortly thereafter, cumming 'OHHHH' so hard into a pair of Mom's panties. I always keep one available for extra special occasions, stealing them from the laundry nook to sustain my emergency supply.