Dana Comes Home Ch. 02bywhatnow221©
Ann stirred very early in the morning. She felt a tension at the base of her spine, the same that she felt as a teenager and during college. It was a feeling of danger and excitement, and of breaking boundaries. She fluttered in and out of consciousness in the early dawn, only liminally aware that her domestic life had turned more complicated and perverse than she ever could have predicted.
Her body also felt unusual. Her nipples were electric. Even slight movements were unexpectedly pleasurable, due to the friction of her pajamas against her breasts. She shifted to her side, and brought a hand inside her pajama top to lightly toy with one of her crinkled nipples. The sides of her mouth turned upward into a smile. She pressed her thighs together, as if she was trying to trap the smoldering heat and not let it escape. She luxuriated in the pleasure, still half-asleep.
Ann was a sexual woman, but at this point in her life she was accustomed to her available sources of pleasure. She loved sex with her husband, and they had certainly explored a kink or two together. But they had gone as far as they wanted, and were no longer pushing any boundaries. They settled into a routine of enjoying a healthy fuck once a week or so, and that was that. As a result, sex was no longer a pressing concern of Ann's. It happened, routinely, and she enjoyed it. But as far as she was concerned, there was nothing more to see.
But on this day Ann felt something different, something unknown and tempting. A door had opened that she never knew existed, and her body was reacting the same way it had many years earlier, when the doors to sexuality first opened to her.
Soon enough Ann's sleepiness sharpened into wakeful consciousness. She blinked, looked towards the window and the grey light of early dawn, and gathered her thoughts. Oh shit! Her heart skipped a beat as she remembered what she had seen the night before. She had seen her daughter Dana walking away from the room of her son, Brendan. But more importantly, she saw some disturbing details: her daughter's breasts, nipples stiffened and pointing upwards at a trajectory suggestive of sexual excitement; her daughter's face, the flush of energetic movement poorly disguised by an purposefully blank expression; her daughter's hair, mussed in a recognizable way; and her daughter's scent, unmistakably that of youthful coupling.
Both mother and daughter were wise enough to just walk past each other to their rooms. But both mother and daughter were also intelligent enough to know the cat was out of the bag.
As Ann lay there, images developed in her mind. Her daughter spread eagle on her son's bed, cunt glistening as Brendan's turgid cock prepared to penetrate her. Her son's back muscles tensing as he plunged into Dana's tight young vagina. An enigmatic expression on her daughter's difficult-to-read face, a mixture of lust and regret as she yielded herself to her brother.
Ann quickly attempted to repress these images, to bring herself back to the present, and think about anything else. But when she retrieved her thoughts from fantasy and brought them to the present, she realized her body was aflame. She could feel her vagina lips sliding against each other, and she knew her nether regions were damp with arousal. Curious, she ventured downward with her hand, through the thicket of pubic hair, to her clit. Touching it nearly brought forth an involuntary moan, as streaks of sensation shot upwards from her pussy through her whole body. She idled for a bit on her clit, pushing it to and fro and lightly pinching it between her digits. In response her pussy clenched and flooded yet further. She was amazed at her physical response, and could not recall ever being so turned on. She usually wasn't even interested in sex in the morning!
She moved down and slipped a finger into the cauldron between her inner labia. Her fingers seemed to slip inexorably inward, almost as if her pussy sucked them past its slippery opening. Soon she had buried two fingers as deep as possible. The feeling was incredible. Deep inside, she could feel her striated inner walls quiver against her fingers.
Ann bent forward, making it easier to reach, then positioned her palm on her clit. She began to plunge her fingers into her cunt and simultaneously press her clit with her palm. After just a few insertions and extractions, the quiver of her cuntal walls concentrated into a full-fledged spasm, clasping her fingers as she began to orgasm. As her cunt squeezed, Ann plunged her fingers deep and pressed hard on her clit. Her orgasm deepened, rolling into an violent, uncoordinated outburst of energy. Her vaginal spasms were matched by a series of staccato yips from the back of her throat, as Ann unintentionally vocalized the torrent of pleasure crashing through her entire body.
Seconds later, the alarm clock sounded, marking 7:30. Her husband, a deep sleeper, rolled over and groaned. Meanwhile, Ann tried to catch her breath. Her heart was pounding and small waves of pleasure continued to pulse through her body. But her husband didn't notice. The alarm clock continued to insist, and he pushed himself up with muscular arms to turn it off. He tumbled out of bed and towards a shower, unaware that his wife still felt the aftershocks of her best orgasm in years, brought about by her own fingers.
Ann dozed while her husband prepared for work, enjoying the afterglow of her orgasm, but also turning over and over in her mind her thoughts about her daughter and her son, and whether they had fucked. She knew she should be disgusted. But she really wasn't. She was aroused.
Brendan woke up early too, and the thoughts of what took place the night before rushed over him. He felt a little panicky. Had he really fucked his own sister? It wasn't his fault, he assured himself. She was basically calling the shots. She always called the shots. Still, he felt guilty and his breath was coming in somewhat shallow gasps.
He rolled out of bed and stood up. He opened a window and felt a rush of crisp fall morning air rush into his room. The bracing air felt good on his skin. He put on his glasses and looked at the disheveled image that he presented. His hair was wild from sleep, he was wearing only boxer shorts and socks, and his cock was hanging outside of his boxers, at half-mast. A crust of dried jism was evident on the tip of his cock.
Brendan stepped backwards and fell into his big orange easy chair. He reached down and grabbed his bong, sparked it, and drew deeply from it. The sharp edges of the morning softened even before he exhaled, and he leaned his head back, glad for the pleasant buzz.
He thought back to the last night. He stared at his bed, marveling that 10 hours ago, his sister had transformed from the super-student who never showed much interest in her younger brother to an absolute vixen. He thought about how she pressed her lips against his forhead. How the words "fuck me" sounded, whispered into his ear. How it felt to close his eyes and follow the whims of his tongue and lips, as he traced out each and every fold of her vagina. And how it felt to open his eyes, look up, between the pointed peaks of her breasts and see her head tossed back in pleasure.
Dana was always so complete. She was always a step ahead, never caught off guard, never vulnerable. She was also a striking girl, beautiful behind her sometimes icy disposition. All of this accounted for the scintillating effect of seeing her open her legs and abandon herself to passion. Looking at the rumpled sheets, and thinking about what had happened, Brendan almost couldn't believe it.
Brendan stood up and stretched, with his cock was now hard, standing proudly at attention. It was about 8:15 and he expected that his parents to have departed for work. Boldly he stepped out into the hallway and stepped down the hallway. He stood for a moment looking at the closed door to his sister's room. Just the thought of what he knew was inside was exciting. Was she awake yet? What was she wearing? Maybe she slept in the nude, he thought, as he turned and headed to the bathroom for a shower. He wondered when she would get up. When she did, would she find her pussy still coated with the copious amounts of cum he had deposited in her?
As Brendan pushed open the door to the bathroom, he was still following this train of thought, in the single-minded way of someone who had started the day with a hearty pull of the sweet smoke.
Brendan passed the sink and reached to grab the edge of the shower curtain, but it slid open before he could grab it. Instead, his grasping hand touched the softness of flesh, and he heard his mother cry out, "Brendan!"
Even as she did so, she lost her balance on the slick surface of the wet bathtub and fell forward. The only available object with which to break her fall was her semi-nude son, who had appeared out of nowhere and grasped her breast the exact moment she opened the shower curtain. In response to his mom's free fall Brendan kept a hold of her right breasts with his right hand. His left hand caught her left armpit.
But he was unable to entirely break her fall. Before Brendan could stop her downward momentum, she had fallen until her face came level with his crotch, which meant that his rockhard cock pressed awkwardly against his mother's cheek.
The flurry of activity ended with Brendan keeping hold of his naked mother's upperbody, including one hand squarely on her breast, and his cock in very intimate contact with his mother's face. In shock, it took them a moment before Brendan helped pull his mother to her feet. Once she had her balance, he awkwardly withdrew his hand from her breast and stepped away.
"I'm so sorry mom. I thought you'd be at work, and I was still sleepy..." he muttered, still standing, erect dick exposed, in front of his naked mother.
Ann, usually so composed and efficient, was flustered.
"It's ok, honey," she said. But as she said it, her eyes slipped downward, briefly looking at her son's surprisingly large, and surprisingly rigid tool. At the same time, Brendan surveyed Ann's body. Her breasts were similar to Dana's, but he could already see the red outline of his handprint on her right breast, where he had inadvertantly grasped her sensitive titflesh when she fell out of the shower. His eyes also ranged over her flat tummy, down to a tangle of pubic hair framing the engorged sex organs of his mother.
"Honey, why don't you give me a moment to dry off? And then you can use the shower."
"Oh, sure. Sorry," Brendan muttered and he quickly withdrew from the bathroom, tearing his eyes away from his mother's naked snatch.
Brendan showered, dressed and went downstairs. His encountered Ann in the kitchen, wearing a white tanktop and black tights. She wore no bra, and her nipples were blatantly exposed, pushing against the cotton fabric. Brendan could even see the dark circles of her areolae through the stetchy white fabric. He noticed his mom was making breakfast, so he sat at the kitchen table, glad to be able to hide his erection.
"Hi honey. Are you hungry?" Ann asked her son, over her shoulder, as she stood at the stovetop, stirring oatmeal.
"Yeah," Brendan responded, blushing slightly at embarrassment over their incident in the bathroom that morning.
Ann brought over two bowls of oatmeal, flavored with dried cranberries, and sat down across from her son. As she put Brendan's bowl in front of her, he could see her cleavage at eye level. Even though the flimsy tanktop didn't hide much, it was exciting to see so much of her bare breasts. Brendan thought she smelled like lavendar.
"Honey, we should talk about what happened this morning," Ann paused, and saw her son's blush deepen. "I don't think you did anything wrong. I know you didn't intend to walk in on me like that."
Brendan didn't really respond, just staring into his bowl. Ann realized she hadn't addressed the real embarrassment, and she decided to just confront the issue head on.
"Listen, Brendan. Its not like I haven't seen a hard cock before," she spurted out, surprising even herself with her language. "I know its normal for men in the morning. Plus, I'm sure my breast isn't the first one you've ever gotten your hands on either," she said, smiling and winking at her son. With his mom's mention of her breast, his eyes found an excuse to look at her chest again. Her nipples were maybe even more pronounced than ever, and he could see them clearly.
Brendan couldn't help but laugh. The embarrassment had dissipated, and the two of them ate breakfast together, chatting comfortably.
As they finished, Brendan stood up to help with the dishes. As he stood, his mom's eyes were clearly drawn to his crotch.
"Not like you haven't seen one before, eh mom?" They both laughed, but they had crossed a line of sorts. Mother and son were both essentially on display for each other, and they had rationalized it by saying it wasn't anything they hadn't seen before.
Ann washed the dishes, and Brendan dried, as they stood next to each other at the sink. They stood close, and allowed each other all sorts of little contacts: thigh touched thigh, elbow touched side, hand touched hand. Each physical contact was laden with sexual energy, even as they chatted as normal between mother and son.
When they were finished with the dishes, they stood next to each other, their thighs and hips barely touching, and looked out the window over the sink. It was a windy, grey fall day. But it was still decently warm, in the high 50s. The trees in their large backyard were adorned with leaves of fantastic colors. Against the uniform grey sky, the colors were even more spectacular, reminiscent of the unreal brightness of colors in old tv technicolor.
Ann placed her hand casually around her son back, resting it on his opposite hip. The side of her breast pressed firmly against his arm.
"Why don't you help me rake up some of those leaves?" she asked.
He liked the idea. He was very much enjoying all of the intimate contact with his mother. He also loved the fall, and the outdoors.
He turned around to face Ann, who kept her hand on his side. They stood very close, and his erection pressed through his shorts against her, almost directly against her pussy mound. He instinctively reached up to her face and swept her hair behind her ear, staring into her eyes. It was a lover's gesture, not a son's gesture.
"Of course. I'd be glad to help." He said it without changing his expression, and without diverting his gaze from hers. And as he said it, his cock flexed a bit, in a way that his mother surely noticed against her inner thigh.
"Ok... Great!" Ann said, pulling away from her son. She was nearly breathless with arousal. She couldn't believe what was happening between her and her son.
She went to pull a loose flannel shirt over her tanktop. She left it open, allowing her erect tits to remain exposed. Meanwhile, Brendan escaped back to his room and pulled on a pair of jeans. He also took a few puffs. He knew he smoked too much, but he loved it. Plus, when better to smoke weed than the day after you fuck your sister, and before flirting with his mom? He had a serious urge to jerk off, but resisted. If he was right about where things were headed, he wouldn't need to be relieving himself today.
In no time, they each had a decent pile of leaves. Brendan was particularly enjoying himself. The cool air, the mechanical movement of rake against leaves and grass, and the crinkly rasping sound of each raking motion were all sensations, in his particular state, to which he was particularly attuned. Taking a break, he stared at the leaf pile, marveling at the aesthetics of the blend of reds, oranges, yellows and browns.
Slam! All of the sudden he was completely upended. His fall was cushioned by the leaves. His athletic mother had sort of half-tackled, half-tripped her much larger son, perfectly executing the takedown into the pile of dessicated foliage. Her weight then careened down on top of him. He fell on his side, trapping one arm under his body against the ground, and she levered his other arm behind his back quickly, before he regained his bearings from the surprise attack.
Then the tickling began. She mercilessly probed his ribs and his armpits, impervious to his stuggling, squirming and laughing. As they rolled in the leaves, Ann was perfectly aware of her son's seemingly constant erection as it pressed against her belly. If she were perfectly candid, she would have to admit that part of her efforts were directed at feeling his hardness against her. At the same time, Brendan was aware of his mother's breasts, and her crotch as she straddled him, trying to maintain her advantage in the impromptu wrestling match. Brendan noticed that she seemed to press her pubis against his thigh, almost as if she were intentionally rubbing her vagina against him.
After a bit, Brendan's superior size and strength prevailed. He unpinned himself and pushed against her, raising her tickling fingers off of him. Then he heard a shriek! It wasn't a friendly, play wrestling sort of shriek. It was a shriek of genuine shock and surprise. Simultaneously, in a flurry of leaves, his mom seemed to disappear.
Brendan rolled over and tripped trying to stand up. While he struggled to gain his footing he heard his mom's cries of distress. Finally, he jumped up and assessed the situation. His mom was on the ground on all fours. Her shirt and undershirt were pushed up, exposing one of her breasts. Behind her was Bart, the neighbor's golden retriever!
The dog must have seen them wrestling and gotten excited. Its front paws had pushed her shirts up, and it was busily humping her. Under the weight of the large dog, Ann was helpless. Brendan moved quickly and landed a sharp kick on the dog's ribs, sending it sprawling away from his bewildered mother. The dog whimpered and slinked away.
In the seconds following that flurry of activity Ann quickly pulled her shirt down and stood up. The adrenaline was definitely flowing. But as she came to realize what happened, she paused, looked at her valiant son, and then completely doubled over in laughter, as did her son. They both recollapsed into the pile of leaves, rolling towards each other.
Ann grasped for her son and they embraced as they continued to laugh and roll in the leaves. They hugged each other tight, their laughing faces just inches from one another. They could feel each other's breath on their lips. After a few minutes, they stopped laughing and Ann lay on her son's chest, both of them breathing hard from the activities. Ann's breasts were pressed against her son's chest. Her arms wrapped under his arms around her shoulders. Both were most aware, though, of his cock pressed hard against his mother. She could feel his whole impressive length pressing from her mound all the way up to her belly button. As their bellies rose of and fell with their respiration, Brendan's cock rhythmically sandwiched against his mother's body.
Ann kissed her son. They had kissed before, but this was a new kind of kiss. It was lips and tongue, urgency and lust. Their eyes closed, and their minds shifted to the feel of their wet oral parts moving together, responding to each other's movements. Her tongue explored the sweet taste of her son, darting in and out, to and fro. Their bodies writhed against one another, and they rolled in the leaves. Eventually, Ann moved up and forward, following the path of his immense boner to its tip. She needed him inside of her.
The pace of her movements verged on violence as she reached downward and stripped her legging down to her ankles, freeing her cunt. She then reached for his buttons and his zipper, needing to give herself access to his tool. She licked her hand, grabbed him at the base of his cock and stroked upward, bringing him to her hole. Then she sat down, plunging onto his entire length with her cunt in one downward swoop. Leaving him in her depths, she lay down on his body, and kissed her son. This time was less intense. After all, they were both where we wanted to be, with his penis firmly planted in his mother's canal. They sensually moved against each other, licking and nibbling, until he began to thrust with his hips gently.