The Family Affair Pt. 02

Chapter 01

After my parents left, my life settled back into a semblance of normality. The cleanup crew finished removing the trappings of the wedding.

I wrote a thank you note to Clyde, the gay wedding planner, promising to recommend him for his excellent services. I paused, then signed it with a series of Xs and Os, signaling my desire to pursue a relationship.

Losing Agnes and fucking my mother left me adrift emotionally. As good as mom and I were together, I knew we could not make fucking each other an ongoing thing. Ultimately we would be found out, possibly by my father. I needed someone to fill that void.

A few of my male acquaintances were pansexual like me and were not opposed to male/male sex play. Others were married, bisexual, and in the closet. They snuck by my place for a quick suck and fuck, then hurried home to their wives, denying their true nature.

Bill Avery was a grey-haired venture capitalist who financed my business and was not averse to a bisexual suck and fuck. As much as he loved me fucking his ass, he particularly loved for me his wife.

When I fucked Amy, Bill lay under us, watching my cock slide in and out of his wife's pussy. When I cum, he pulled my cock from her pussy and drank the last drops.

Amy also loved to watch me fuck her husband. She was vocal, like my mother. While I'm fucking Bill, Amy calls him her dick-loving bitch while smacking his ass. She usually kneels next to me with her arm around my waist, kissing me.

A week later, the real estate agent listed the Georgian and scheduled prescreened buyers to see it. I spent more time at my condo in the city and less time at my suburban estate.

Things were getting back to normal. That is if normal means I missed fucking my sister and now my mother. My mother and I talked on the phone frequently. We sometimes had circumspect conversations about our night together.

She was ambivalent about me cumming in her multiple times that night since she was in her fertile cycle. She admitted that while she wanted another baby, she wasn't sure she wanted it to be her son's child.

Agnes called after returning from her month-long honeymoon, sounding bubbly, still living in the newlywed afterglow. She confided that she was pregnant and hoped it was my baby.

When Agnes called to make arrangements for me to take our daughter Cassandra shopping for school, summer was turning to Fall. She sounded happy to my chagrin, settling into her marriage.

Clyde and I settled into an ongoing relationship. We became party animals, attending orgies, bisexual swap meets, and other illicit sexual venues. I shared him with Bill and Amy, my venture capitalist lover and his wife.

Amy, 50, was tall at 5'9" and about 130 pounds and exercised regularly to maintain her slim model's body. She was Bill's,65, trophy wife of 25 years. He was less fastidious about his body, indulging his tastes for rich foods, expensive wines, and strange cock.

I met Bill when I sought financing to expand my business. After several meetings at his office, he invited to his home for dinner and drinks to close the deal. I was pleasantly surprised to discover they were swingers, and Bill was bisexual.

Amy was a fantastic fuck, with the talent to flex her vaginal muscles, making it feel like her pussy was giving you a handjob. She confided that her exercise regimen included strengthening her Kegel muscles and thus her vagina.

Bill liked to watch his wife take Black cock then lick her clean and suck off the man. I introduced him to male/male 69ing and, ultimately, to anal sex.

Our lovemaking engendered a turning point in his life. He believed he was getting erectile dysfunction and was on Viagra. I taught him that all he needed was a prostate massage with my fingers and, ultimately, my cock. He started cumming like a teenager! Amy developed a penchant for watching me fuck her husband.

The four of us spent many evenings with Amy and me fucking while Bill and Clyde 69ed. We usually swapped after Bill and Clyde came in each other's mouths. Then I would fuck Bill while Amy pegged Clyde. We shared many nights of total debauchery, rotating those combinations fueled by molly and alcohol.

The most erotic combination was Clyde fucking Amy while she sucked me with Bill kneeling next to Clyde, embracing and kissing him. We were always anxious to discover new levels of sensuality.

Some nights we formed a daisy chain with me sucking Bill while he sucked Clyde and Clyde ate Amy while she sucked me. We would wake the following day in their California king-sized bed sticky with our juices.

My debauchery dulled the pain of losing Agnes while the memories of sex with my mother remained vivid. No other partner had the same physical and emotional connection we shared the night of the wedding. The intensity scared both of us, causing us to long for a repeat while we feared where it would take us.

Chapter 02

Then tragedy struck. My father was severely injured in a construction accident when high winds toppled the crane he was operating.

I got to the ER in record time. My mother was in the waiting room, looking drawn and tired; her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen. She wore an ill-fitting faded housedress. At that moment, she looked more than her 46 years. There were no signs of the vixen who sneaked into her son's room and fucked all night.

"Andre! Andre! He's dying!"

She held me so tight with her bosom pressed against my abdomen that it was painful.

"Where's the doctor?"

My father was injured, maybe dying, and my cock plumped as my mother embraced me.

On cue, a tall, grey-haired White guy in scrubs entered the room, looking tired and drawn.

"Your husband is going to make it. But there will be months, maybe years of rehabilitation. The hospital can recommend a few care centers. The Benefits Coordinator will work with you to find one."

"What am I going to do," momma wailed? "Insurance will cover most of his care. But we can't afford the extra physical therapy the doctor recommended."

"Momma, don't worry! I'll take care of everything."

In a moment of clarity, the way forward was clear to me.

I called Clyde, the wedding planner, seeking his help. We would use my contacts and his organizational ability to transform the back two bedrooms into a rehabilitation care center and a bedroom for my mother. Duty nurses and physical therapists would be contacted and scheduled. It would be God awful expensive, but the love of my father and guilt at putting the horns of a cuckold on him drove me.

By the time Agnes and her husband arrived at the hospital, I had managed the situation. I hugged her and shook his hand. I held no animosity toward him. It was even money; the baby she was carrying was mine. After all, he was making my sister happy. Or so I thought.

I immediately took the Georgian house off the market. The wedding planner proved as efficient in overseeing the bedrooms' transformation into a rehabilitation center as he was at planning the wedding.

Within a month, an ambulance brought my father to his new home. Momma hovered like a mother hen as he was settled in and was hooked up to the various pumps, IVs, etc., he would need.

It cost a fortune. I was thankful I could provide my father with the care he needed at home instead of being warehoused in a rehabilitation center.

Admittedly, in part, my drive to see that he received the best care possible was driven by guilt. I fucked his wife, my mother.

We never discussed it, but momma seemed to share my guilt. We were affectionate but, at the same time, standoffish. We sometimes got into intense make-out sessions that could have led to sex. One of us always pulled back.

Momma was grateful for my help and settled in, treating my home as though it were hers, cooking, cleaning, and doing the laundry. In the weeks after they moved in, I gained weight from her excellent home cooking.

To an outsider, we were a concerned mother and son, caring for an infirmed spouse and father. The sexual tension between us was suppressed but colored our lives. As much as we would like, we could not put the toothpaste back in the tube.

In early September, she told me she thought she was pregnant. She experienced morning sickness and tested herself using an in-home pregnancy kit. A visit to a gynecologist confirmed it.

For the next few weeks, mom was an emotional wreck. Her emotions swung from remorse to elation to guilt and back to remorse. Physically she went from desperately clinging to me to being revolted by my touch.

I was in my home office reading a financial statement from my accountants and a proposal by a conglomerate that wanted to buy my small company. The deal would give me stocks and a salary roughly twice what I was earning now. I also got a ten-year non-compete with a large separation bonus after ten years. If I accepted, I would be set for life.

The deal was timely. My father was improving. He was able to move about the house for short periods with my and my mother's help. However, it would be many months before he was able to take care of himself. The expense of his care was a drain on my finances. Additionally, I was going to be a father twice over and needed to secure my babies future.

"Are you busy?"

My mother stood in the door, backlit by the Fall sun streaming in the window. She wore one of my old t-shirts, panties, and cloth slippers. She was about six weeks along, and she wasn't showing except for a noticeable fullness in her face and tits.

We had not had sex since the night of the wedding. Still, we dressed casually like an old married couple. I was in boxers and a t-shirt.

"I'm never too busy for you!"

"Bullshitter!" Her old sassy self was back.

"There are only two kinds of bullshit, the kind you want to hear and the kind you don't want to hear! But it's all bullshit!"

"There's a half-ass logic in there somewhere," she chuckled, walking over to my desk and sitting on the edge.

I stole a quick look at her thighs. They were firming up as pregnancy hormones made changes to her body. She glowed with health and sexuality, reminding me of Agnes when she was pregnant with Cassandra. I couldn't get enough of Agne's body, wanting to kiss, lick and fuck her more as the weeks passed and her body grew.

"We need to talk!"

Those four words usually precede bad news. I plastered a fake smile on my face as my ass grabbed my shorts.

"What's up, hot stuff?"

"Your father is doing much better. I'm going to move back to our home."

He WAS doing much better. He tired quickly but was able to creep about the house on a walker.

"If you want to, sure! But you're seven weeks pregnant. At some point, you're going to need help yourself."

"I didn't have any help with you and your sister. I cooked, cleaned, and fucked your father right up to when my water broke."

"I know! You're the toughest bitch in the world! You don't need anybody. If you want to leave, leave!"

I overreacted, but I was hurt. Even without the sex, it felt good to have my mother close, to know she was there.

"Who're you calling a bitch?" She punched my arm. It hurt.

"OUCH! Stop it!"

I grabbed her arm. We grappled, and I pulled her across my lap, pulled her panties down, and smacked her ass. Hard and repeatedly!

"Stop," she wailed, grinding her pussy into my thigh. The wetness of Momma's pussy ran down my thigh, and she moaned softly.

I leaned down and kissed her ass.

"Please, baby, we need to stop! Your father is just down the hall."

"You started it," I said, alternately stroking and kissing my mother's ass. The aroma of her arousal wafted up from her wet pussy.

"I love how pregnancy enhances your sex hormones! You smell delicious!"

"You freak! I ain't never heard such bull shit! Let me up!"

I smacked her ass again, hard!

"You're a submissive, momma! A sub! You want me to spank you, to take charge of you!"

"I ain't no such thing!"

I pinned her to my lap with one arm, rammed two fingers in her dripping wet pussy, and finger fucked her while she lay across my lap. She ground her pussy against my thigh, breathing heavily. I abruptly stopped and pushed her to the floor.

"You can't be manhandling me! I'm pregnant!"

"Shut up! Stand up and strip!"

Her eyes widened, and there was a moment of confusion.

"When we were fucking you said you wanted to be my whore, my mommy whore! Mommy whores either obey or get punished! Do you understand that?"

She stood in front of me with her panties around her hips. Her pussy was wet and swollen; her thick bush matted to her thighs. I made a mental note to shave her.

Momma rubbed her behind with both hands. Then she pushed her panties down and pulled the t-shirt over her head.

I still remember that moment, the moment when the most important woman in my world submitted to me.

"You're not going anywhere! You're carrying my baby!" I paused for emphasis. "your son's baby! You'll stay here!"

Momma moved close enough to me that I could again smell her arousal. She turned around and bent slightly at the waist.

"My booty is sore! Kiss it again and make it better!"

I kissed my mother's ass, my tongue tracing the fragrant path from her anus to her clit and back again! Several times! When I stopped, her pussy juices coated her thighs.

She stood turned and embraced me, pressing my head to her bosom.

"Does it make me a sick bitch because I love my husband, I'm addicted to sex with my son, and am carrying his baby?"

"No! We've admitted that most of our lives that there was sexual tension between us. It took Agnes' wedding and an Indian cordial to surface that suppressed lust."

"So you're saying I always wanted to fuck you and finally got drunk enough to do it," she chuckled, a lopsided grin on her face?

"Something like that! Maybe I should get you drunk again?"

My mother sat on my desk, spread her legs, and beckoned for me to come to her.

"No need for that!"

I stepped between her legs and dropped my boxers. We embraced, sharing a tongue-filled kiss as our hands roamed over each other's bodies. Momma took my cock in her hand and lined it up with her entrance.

"Fuck me! Fuck your momma whore!"

Her pussy was as tight, wet, and as good as the first time. The difference this time is we were both sober. There were no excuses!

"You still fuck like a porn star!"

We settled into a rhythm with mom pumping her big chocolate hips forward while I thrust into her mommy hole.

"I love you saying things like that! Your father is good in bed, but he doesn't talk dirty to me like you do!"

"You mean like calling you a whore and telling you to move your fat ass?"

"Yesss! I am, you know, I am a whore! My son's whore! And he can have my fat black ass any time he wants!"

I pulled back until her thick cunt lips just covered the head of my dick. Her pussy farted when I thrust in. We giggled like kids with a new toy.

"We need to stop! Dad is just down the hall. If he wakes up and catches us, it would destroy him."

Mom's pussy made squishy wet sounds as we fucked. Her arms were around my neck, her hips pistoning hard.

"I know! I know! We need to be careful! But we're not going to stop fucking. If I go to Hell for fucking my son, I'll walk in with my pussy, belly, and ass full of your cum!"

The contractions in my mother's pussy, signaling her orgasm. I redoubled my efforts, wanting to cum with her. My balls slapped her ass and her grip on my neck tightened.

"Cum for your son, you bitch!"

"That's right! Talk dirty to me! I love it!"

Her speech was halting, the words spilling out between her gasps of passion.

"You incestuous tramp! Say you love your son's cock in your cheating hole! Say it!"

"I am," she gasped, drool running from the corners of her mouth, "I'm a tramp and a cheat, but I'll be all that for you!"

The tingling started deep in my balls at the same time momma's pussy clamped down, trying to push me out.

"I'm cumming, momma, I'm cumming!"

"I can feel you, baby! Your momma can feel you cumming!" A look of dismay played across her face. "I feel like I have to..! Oh my God!"

For the first time in her life, my mother squirted. It was a thick hard stream that sprayed my crotch and tee shirt. Her voice rose to a high keening squeal.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

Her squirting stream seemed to drain her. She collapsed back on the desk with my cum filling her and her squirting soaking us. I fell on top of her, spreading her essence over both of us.

"What happened, " she gasped."Did I piss myself?"

"No, momma! You squirted!"

"I what? What the hell...!"

"Chantal! Are you okay?"

My father's voice came from his room at the end of the hall. Momma looked up at me wild-eyed.

"Answer him! Otherwise, he might come to check on you!"

"Yes! I'm fine," she yelled! "I spilled...uh...ice water on me. The shock startled me." She pushed at my chest. "Let me up," she said, sotto voce!"

I stood. The t-shirt and my crotch were soaked. Momma stood, and I'll never forget the moment I watched my cum dribble from her pussy and run down her thigh.

"I'm coming, Hank!" She tittered at the unintentional double entendre.

I smacked her meaty ass as she bent to pick up her panties. She popped up, rubbing her ass cheeks with both hands.

"You can spank me as often and as hard as you want! I'm your bitch!"

It was a surreal moment hearing my mother acknowledge me as her Dom. It was the beginning of a relationship that would only deepen with time. Years later, after my father passed and our son was away in college, we would lie in bed and recall that night.

Momma stepped into her panties and kissed me on the lips. She hurried out of my office and down the hall to my father.

From then on, we had our stolen moments. We fucked in my office, my bedroom, and even on the lawn where the dais from the wedding had stood. As mom's pregnancy progressed, she became insatiable and even more adventurous. It was a halcyon time for us!

My mother's new sexual adventurousness extended to my relationship with Clyde, the wedding planner. One night, he was riding my cock cowgirl style while I stroked his cock. I looked behind him to see my mother standing in the door with her panties were around her hips. She was mauling her tits with one hand while fingering her pussy with the other.

Our eyes locked, and I cocked an eyebrow, inviting her to join us. She hesitated, obviously considering my invitation. Clyde came explosively, squirting cum over my chest and face, breaking the moment.

Chapter 03

In late October, momma was about nine weeks into our pregnancy; Agnes burst into my house with Cassandra in tow. She was frantic, with tears streaming down her face. I ushered our daughter into her room to entertain herself with video games while I questioned her mother.

Her story tumbled out, its passage eased by soft words from me, our momma, and a few glasses of wine. Her Prince Charming was a cheater and an abuser. She discovered and confronted him with the knowledge she acquired through his careless use of emails and text messages. He had another woman and a child by her. He slapped her face and screamed at her to stay out of his business. He said she was less desirable pregnant.

I made arrangements for a good lawyer. She and Cassandra would stay in Cassandra's room until Agnes got her life together.

Weirdly my rationale for purchasing this monstrosity of a home worked out. My daughter and her mother were living with me. The complicating factor was just down the hall was the other woman I had sex with, our mother!

Life, like water, seeks an equilibrium. We settled into a routine, approximating our life when we lived with our parents. Despite the housecleaning crew that came in twice a week, momma insisted on cleaning and cooking. Her gynecologist said it was the nesting instinct. She was preparing a place for the baby.