tagIncest/TabooTwo Players, 18 Years of Age and Up

Two Players, 18 Years of Age and Up

byg00db0i©

Less a story, more of an extended scene. Kind of a quickie. If you've read any of my other stories, you know what to expect: this one's got incest, moms and sons fuckin', some magicky mind controlly stuff, older women who take what they want. If that's not your cup of tea, please don't email me to let me know you've drank from someone else's cup of tea: just give me back my gosh darn tea.

--for my muse--

*****

TWO PLAYERS, EIGHTEEN YEARS OF AGE AND UP


After a moment's struggle, the door burst inward, admitting a shower of heavy sleet and a pair of figures dripping with icy water. One, in a varsity track jacket, threw a pair of bags into the room and left again, while the other held a phone to her ear and shouted into it.

"Well dammit Nick I thought you might want to hear that your wife and only son made it up here safe and-" Maddie whipped her hair out of her face, trying to keep the water from dropping into her eyes.

"Yes I suppose you could have been driving but you're not, I can hear-" She angrily unzipped her light spring jacket, looking down to survey the damage.

"Well, if we'd all left at the same time like I wanted to, I wouldn't have-" She was soaked right through to the skin, the chambray shirt was stained dark blue with the water, moulded tight to the lacy bra she wore underneath, the prodigious mounds of her breasts even more obvious than usual. There was a step on the porch outside, and she hurriedly zipped herself back up before Andrew walked in.

"Yes obviously that's important, to her, but-" Her son shrugged at her questioning look when he walked back through the door carrying a big red Coleman cooler. "I am well-aware I am talking about our daughter, Nick. I gave birth to her. When do you think you'll get here?"

Andy fiddled with his pack, trying not to look at his mother as she fought on the phone.

"What do you mean the road is closed?" She raked her fingers through her hair, the red almost black. "A snowstorm? In May? No, just sleet here, I think." Maddie pulled back one of the sun faded curtains and peered outside; big, wet heavy flakes of snow splattered against the window. "Yeah, yeah it's here too. No I agree, don't risk it. Sure, fine. I'll call you tomorrow. Give Ash my love."

"Looks like it's just you and me, kid." Hanging up the phone, she smiled ruefully. "Let's get some light going." Mother and son scanned the room.

The cabin was dark but snug, and at least a century old, its origins lost in the mists of family history. Nobody could quite recall whose uncle's uncle had built it under the shadow of Widow's Peak; the title had passed through enough branches of the family tree (often under circumstances only mostly technically legal) that a forensic accountant would have thrown up his hands at the mess and walked away.

Consequently it was full of the castoff furniture and linens from all over the damn country, not a stick of it matching with the rest, not a thing original to the cabin except maybe the potbellied stove with a cast iron grin fixed in its grille. Everything was clean, washed, and working, ready for visitors, the work of everybody's Uncle Dave and Great Aunt Ana: they lived in the hamlet of Widow's Outlook, and had the responsibility through sheer proximity.

A battered lamp sat on the scarred table in what passed for the kitchen. Maddie fished in her purse for matches, found an aging book of them that didn't seem too damp, and then the place was aglow with warm light, chasing away the shadows and the horror-movie feel they cast.

"God, I'm saturated." Maddie looked down at herself, feet squishing in waterlogged white Keds.

"You're not the only one," Andrew clapped his arms around himself, trying to get his blood circulating in the cold of the room.

"Okay, well, see if you can get a the stove started. Uncle Dave said he filled up the wood box outside last week so we should be fine for heat." Maddie reached down and grabbed the other bag without looking at it. "I'm going to get changed."

When he came back in, arms laden with enough split birch logs and kindling to get things started, his mother was cursing loudly from the cabin's one bedroom.

"What's wrong?" Andy shouted as he stacked the wood neatly by the door. "Mom?" Opening the stove, he began to erect a little tower of kindling, stuffing the interior with shredded birch bark. He lit one of the matches she'd left and tossed it in; a cheery little fire quickly set up shop in the nest he'd crafted. "Hello? Are you okay?"

"Oh I'm okay," she spat. "But your father won't be."

"What happened?" Bright flames fed on the bark and soon they were lapping at the wood stack in the belly of the stove.

"I told him to put our bags in the goddamn car but I guess that was too complicated for him. This is your sister's stuff." From within the room there was a loud 'flump' of an overnight bag being thrown on the floor. "I don't have any dry clothes."

"That sucks." The fire took hold, merrily burning away. He rubbed his hands together in the hot air coming from the opened door. "Do you want to borrow one of my shirts or something."

"No, I can- I'll make do, I guess. You need dry stuff too." As soon as she mentioned it, a clamminess stole over his body, and Andy was suddenly very aware of how wet he was.

"Yeah, okey doke," he slid a couple of smaller split logs into the stove, taking care not to knock over the fire he'd built, and closed the door again. Straightening himself, Andy took his dripping varsity jacket off and draped it over a line that had been strung over the stove for just such a purpose. He began peeling off his sopping wet shirt when he heard the bedroom door open.

"You have to promise you won't laugh," Maddie said as she rounded the corner, drying her hair in one of Ashley's t-shirts.

"I promise." He said, tossing his own tee over the clothesline, firelight glimmering across his sculpted hairless pecs and the flat plane of his stomach, all lean runner's muscle.

Madeline Stone had never been a small woman. Already taller than most of her peers, she was all 32-oz coke-bottle curves kept mostly in check by a healthy diet and regular exercise, but there was no ignoring the dramatic outward sweep of her hips or the enormous swell of her bosom or the soft roundness of her tummy. They were especially hard to ignore now that they'd been stuffed into a light blue hoodie of Ashley's, the zipper under considerable strain to stay up -- it was already halfway failing, exposing a deep, creamy cleavage -- and the skintight light grey leggings that did nothing to hide her plush thighs or the luscious curves of her behind.

"Oh good, you got it going." She laid the kerosene lamp on the table and strode over to the fire, rubbing her hands together. Andy skinned out of his jeans and hung them over the line. Maddie made sure to look the other way; she knew he had her red curls and soft, kissable lips, but whence this young Adonis body had come she had no idea. Certainly not from his father. A pair of black boxer briefs joined his other clothes, and there was a rustling as he rummaged around in the bag.

"How about I rustle up something to eat and you can dry off?" She walked over to the cooler; a case of beer, milk, eggs, bacon, butter, a gallon of water. Most of the dry goods were in the other car, on the other side of the mountain. Silently cursing her husband, Maddie started rummaging through the cupboard, and came up with couple of pans. "How does breakfast for supper sound?"

"Sure thing," Andy stretched a dry shirt over his head, then slid into a pair of flannel pyjamas pants. He flicked the switch on an old tube TV in the corner. Nothing. "I guess we're roughing it."

"Dave said there's a generator out back somewhere, but I don't know how it works," outside, the wind howled and snow beat hard against the windows. "Do you really want to go back out there?"

"Ah no." He started poking around the crazy collection of mismatched furniture, inspecting shelves of abandoned knicknacks and yellowed summer novels nobody had read in a decade. "Hey, board games."

"Oh? Anything good?" Maddie whipped a fork through a bowlful of eggs, beating them up together into some milk.

"Let's see...we got...Junior Monopoly," there was a hiss as strips of bacon met hot cast iron. "A backgammon board- you know how to play backgammon?"

"Not a clue." She turned the bacon, browning it.

"No pieces in it anyway. What's 'Family Foibles'?" Andy held up a faded cardboard box; on the cover a woman and man were bent low over a game board, laughing.

"Never heard of it," she transferred the bacon to a towel to drain, poured the hot fat into an empty mug, and dumped the eggs into the hot pan.

"'Family Foibles' from Boiart Bros," he read from the back of the box. "Is a game of truth and togetherness. Get to know your family like never before. 2 players, ages 18 and up. 18 and up?"

"It's not one of those awful 'adult' games, is it?" Maddie scooped a heap of scrambled eggs, gelid and glistening onto a tin plate.

"I don't think so." Andy opened the box. Among the pieces inside he found a stack of cards, and plucked one out. "'Ask your mother about her first kiss.'"

"Matthew Griswold," the answer popped out of her mouth before almost before he was done talking. "Seventh grade. Our braces got stuck together. We broke up because we couldn't be Maddie and Matty."

"Gross," Andy said, putting the card back. "Yeah I don't think it's a party game or anything." He rummaged through the box. "I don't see any instructions in here."

"I'm sure we can muddle through. Anything else there?" She laid both plates on the table.

"Not unless you want to try scrimmage with no pegs."

"No thanks. Your dad has the laptop doesn't he? Dinner's ready, by the way."

"He sure does!" Andy sauntered over, box tucked under his arm. "We've got no way to charge it anyway."

"Or the phones I guess," Maddie opened the cooler and extracted a beer, feeling the fabric of her daughter's leggings stretching dangerously tight. "Do you want one?"

"Really?" Andy grinned stupidly.

"Well, you're only nineteen but I won't tell the cops if you won't."

"What about dad?" Twin psshts, one after another as his mother opened both bottles.

"I don't see him anywhere, do you? Besides I'm not about to drink alone." She laid the beers on the table and sat down. "C'mon, tuck in before it gets cold."

Like any teenage boy, Andy didn't need to be told twice when it came to eating, and he made quick work of his plate. His mother was still about halfway through when she said, "so are you going to set that board up or are we just going to stare at each other all night?"

"Alright, alright." He opened the box and started taking stuff out. "There's only two pieces in here. Do you want to be blue or...pink?"

"Wow what a selection," Maddie said around a mouthful of egg. "Pink, please. Why's it bigger?"

"How should I know?" He separated out two stacks of cards, FAMILY and FOIBLES, and placed them on the game board, along with a yellowy die. Andy put the pieces on a big corner square that read THE PARTY STARTS HERE. "I think that's it. Nothing else in the box. Who goes first?"

"I do," she said. "You're too busy putting these plates in the sink." Maddie waved her empty plate in front of him.

"I'm not- oh ha ha I get it. Very subtle, Mom." He gathered up the dishes and flatware while she rolled the die. It clattered onto the board.

"Two." She leaned close over the board. She'd landed on PARTY FOR TWO. "'Relax and let your hair down! Forget everyone else, you've got a PARTY FOR TWO.'" Maddie shook her hair out; it was already starting to dry in the heat from the stove. It seemed to be melting the day's tension from her shoulders, too. Who needed Nick around anyway?

Andy watched his mother take a long pull from her beer as he sat down again. "My turn?" She wiped the foam from her lips, nodding. He landed on FAMILY, and picked up a card.

"'KISS AND TELL: give your mother a kiss and tell her if you're seeing anybody.' Mom, do I-" He gave her a pained look.

"I don't write the cards, honey. Pucker up." Andy sighed and leaned in. His mother's lips were soft and slightly cool from the beer. When was the last time he'd kissed her on the mouth? Or at all? She broke away first. "Okay, now spill."

He tucked the card back under the deck. "Nobody, I guess, now."

"What happened to that cheerleader- uh- whatshername?" Maddie's brow furrowed. Why couldn't she remember the name? The girl had been to dinner half a dozen times, but right now she wouldn't have been able to pick her out of a lineup. Whatever. No need to worry about it, it was time to relax.

"Kelli got into Oberlin and doesn't want to 'make it weird' by 'doing long distance'" Andy put as much venom into his scare quotes as he could manage.

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry. That sucks. I know you really liked uh-"

"Kelli."

"Right, yeah. Her." Maddie snatched up the die and rolled it, landing on the same FOIBLES space.

'THINGS ARE HEATING UP NOW,' shouted the card; below the legend, a stylized woman in a June Cleaver dress was fanning her forehead. Underneath, it read 'move ahead three spaces.' She obliged, tapping out her move on the board, and felt the prickle of sweat starting to bead up on her skin. The air felt thick and warm around her head.

"Did you put more wood on the fire?" She glanced over her shoulder at the stove.

"No." Andy said. "It's burning really low actually, I should throw more on." The light from the grille was a deepening red. His chair scraped on the floor as he got up to feed the beast. Maddie fanned herself, and unzipped her hoodie an extra inch or three. Cool air rushed in between her heavy breasts. She sighed with relief. This had better not be the start of menopause.

When he was finished with the stove, her son sat back down and said, "that's a FAMILY space, Mom. You have to pull a card." His gaze flickered over the extra slice of creamy skin she had on display.

"'PLAY TOGETHER, STAY TOGETHER,'" she read. "'Why are you sitting so far apart? Move your chairs next to each other.' That's a weird one." They looked at each other for a long moment, then Andy stood, picked up his chair, and put it next to his mother's; there wasn't quite enough room on any side of the table for two, so their hips pressed tightly together.

"Your turn." Maddie gave him a playful nudge with her elbow. Her eyes were bright, blue and shining like he'd never seen them.

He rolled.

"'GROWING BOY,' what does that mean?"

"Mmm...I don't know. What else does it say?" Maddie leaned into his side, he was solid and comforting.

"Nothing, the space just says 'GROWING BOY.'" She laid a hand on his leg, just to keep steady, and felt him shift a little. "Is the chair okay, honey? Maybe we should move to the couch?"

"Um, yeah, sure." Andy snatched up the empty box and stood, holding it as inconspicuously over his crotch as it was possible to do. Maddie followed him to the couch, too busy balancing the cards as best she could on slightly giddy legs to notice what he was doing. "You want a blanket?" He grabbed a threadbare quilt hung over the back of it and spread it over his lap and legs.

"No, I'm good. I'm really...warm. Do you find it warm?" A bead of sweat ran down from the nape of her neck and slid into the darkness between her breasts. Setting the board on the rickety coffee table, she seated herself next to him, curling her legs up. "Whose turn is it? Mine?"

"Yeah," one of Andy's hands slipped under the blanket.

Another FOIBLES card.

"'SEVENTH INNING STRETCH: you've been sitting too long! Get up and stretch it out, and while you're at it you can stretch your roll to twice the number.' Ugh, I just sat down," Maddie complained as she unfolded herself again.

Andy watched as his mother reached up to the ceiling, standing on her tiptoes, letting the hem of the hoodie rise high enough to show off a lot of creamy smooth skin and velvety soft tummy. She bounced on her toes, and the enormous globes of her buttocks began to quake and shimmy, the cotton leggings stretched so tight they were practically transparent; there was no evidence of any underwear, just miles of luscious flesh. When she bent over to move her piece the other three spaces, he had to make a conscious effort not to let his eyes sink into the deep crevasse of her cheeks, or slide down into the space between her thighs.

"'WE'RE HERE FOR A GOOD TIME,'" she laughed, plopping back down into the embrace of the couch, breasts smooshing into his arm. "Are you having a good time, honey?"

"Yeah," Andy said in a slightly distant voice, "yeah it's fun." He laughed, then reluctantly drew his hand out from under the blanket and rolled.

FAMILY.

"'MOTHER KNOWS BEST: you know it's true! For AT LEAST the next three turns, what mom says, goes.' Uh. Your wish is my command, I guess."

"Well," Maddie unzipped her hoodie another couple of inches, feeling it come free at last, and fanned the lapels. "You may begin, slave, by getting me another beer." Andy had to force his eyes away from the inside curves of her breasts, now almost fully exposed, moon-white and shot dimly through with delicate blue veins.

"Of course, yeah," he kicked off the blanket and sprang to his feet. His mother's eyes shot open in shock as they landed on the tent he'd sprouted underneath his flannel pants. It bobbed and wobbled away as he crossed the room to open the Coleman. Ordinarily she would have said something, looked away, but...it was time to relax.

Maddie rolled.

"'I'M FEELIN FINE: there's nothing that feels as good as quality time with your best boy. Cosy your piece up to his on the board and then cuddle up with him on the couch.' Sounds good to me! Thanks," she took the opened beer from him and drank as he sat back down, and curled into him, nuzzling her head in under his shoulder so that his arm draped around her. "Be a dear and move me, won't you?"

"Sure," Andy put her piece next to his and rolled, landing on a FAMILY space.

Before he could take a card, she cooed, "oh, I don't think they should be separated, do you? Keep her next to him." He looked back at the board. She was right, of course -- his piece seemed even smaller now, lonely, weird by itself -- maybe Mom was always right. Andy complied with her request, and a little warm thrill rippled through his fingers, up his arm, and across the rest of his body as he did. "There we go, that's better, don't you think?"

"Yeah, you're right." He reached for his card.

"Of course I am."

'WHO NEEDS WILLENDORF?' There was a little stylized picture of some kind of figurine, clearly female if the breasts and hips were any indication. 'You're lucky to have such a gorgeous mother; she should be the object of worship. Don't believe us? Look for yourself!" Andy looked down at his mom, curled under his arm, all rubenesque curves and soft valleys, plush lips wrapped around the neck of her beer bottle as she drank; her hoodie had fallen further open than before, and he could easily spot the aureola of one huge breast, held back from sliding out altogether only by the nipple caught somewhere just inside the zipper. Her features were fine, delicate, dusted with an adorable smattering of freckles across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. His mother slid one thick leg against the other, grinding those big wide hips back and forth, setting deeper into the couch. They were pin-up perfect, he realized; she looked like a model, like some kind of burlesque star doing a photoshoot in a hunting cabin, waiting only for a thickly-furred bear rug to complete the image.

"See something you like, honey?" A sardonic grin curled those pink lips as she polished off the bottle.

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