I posted the first chapter of this story as my entry into the 2017 Literotica Halloween contest. I imagined this would only be a one off story and not a continuing series. But, due to popular demand, I wrote a sequel. And, now, a sequel to the sequel of the sequel. We moved past the Halloween theme in the first sequel and continuing in a new, to me, direction in this one. I believe this will be the final chapter in the series.
As always, all participants in the sexual activities are over the age of eighteen. Since this is my fantasy, in the world of my creation there are no STD's or unwanted pregnancies. Also, we can assume all my characters enjoy good hygiene and shower regularly even if not mentioned.
Please enjoy.
"Hector, tell me truthfully, have you enjoyed what we have been doing? Truly?"
"Mom, I could not have ever imagined anything better than doing what we have been doing."
"You wouldn't want to stop, would you, Hec?" she asked me.
"Not in a million years, Mom, I love being here with you like this."
"You're a good looking young man, my son, you could be with anyone you want..."
"I want to be with my Wonder Woman, Mom," I declared.
"Is there anything more you would wish for, Hector?"
"Yeah," I said, pausing for a moment. "I wish my Wonder Woman would stop wasting time and suck my cock."
Things around the house had settled into a routine. Mom would wake me in the morning with a cup of coffee and a blowjob. My breakfast would consist of whatever Mom made me to eat with some pussy for dessert. After school, my mother was my snack. Sometimes I ate my snack, other times I would fuck it. Generally, we would find time during the evening to do something more.
I have to tell you: although I was living the teenager's dream life, having sex with his own MILF of a mother repeated times throughout the day, I was exhausted. My cock was sore much of the time, rubbed raw as it was. But, Mom was insatiable. She refused to cut back our activities at all. If left to her, she would increase the frequency of our sexual escapades.
At this point in time, I don't know if the old man, my mother's alcoholic husband and my father, knew that Mom and I were playing games or not. Sometimes, we would get playful when he was around and could easily have seen us if he were sober enough to open his eyes.
Mom just didn't give a shit if he knew or not, it seemed. Her play and her teasing of me was getting quite brazen. I don't know how much I cared about his discovering us either. Not really.
It was a Saturday that events took an odd turn. The old man had gone out golfing that morning, with an early tee time. He spent some time, a lot of it I guess, at the nineteenth hole after completing the round. It was mid afternoon before he made it back to the house in his normal condition, he was soused.
As was his custom, he went upstairs to his bed before passing out. When I came home from shooting hoops with some of the guys at a neighbourhood park, I found Mom in the family room with a glass of wine in her hand and an open bottle at her elbow.
This was extremely out of character for her. My mother was not a drinker. I don't think she had ever been one but certainly wasn't now seeing the effects of alcohol on our family. Yet the wine bottle was probably two thirds empty.
Mom was somewhat giggly and playful as I sat beside her on the couch. She had some chick flick from the Lifetime channel on the TV. We watched for a while, comfortably snuggling together.
I was in the corner of the couch lying back with Mom lying against me on her back. My mother's big tits were so very close to me that I couldn't deny the urge to fondle them, to play with them.
I pulled her top up so that I would have free access to her beautiful C cups. My mother didn't wear a bra around the house much these days unless it was part of a set of lingerie. T-shirt raised and braless, I played with those tits somewhat absentmindedly while watching the movie.
Reaching down, I cupped her boobs and bounced them a bit. I squeezed and released her tits, squeezed and released them over and over. I particularly liked pinching her nipples and using them to pull Mom's tits up and away from her body. My mother had confessed to me one time or another that although this particular nipple play caused her some pain, it turned her on far more than it hurt her.
Between the TV movie and the titty play, neither of us noticed that the old man had come downstairs. It was only the closing of the refrigerator door that announced his presence. He came around the breakfast bar to sit in his customary lazeeboy chair. He turned his bleary eyes towards us, asking what we were watching.
By this time, of course, Mom had pulled her top back in place while my hands were on my mother's shoulders. My father grimaced and took a healthy swig of his beer when Mom told him what we were watching. He seemed to settle in to watch along with us but I assumed it was more a matter of him getting close to passing out again.
To my surprise, the movie was getting better, and I continued to lie on the couch watching. Mom bent her arms, putting her hands on mine. At some point, my mother tugged my hands down from her shoulders and back to her tits.
My father adjusted his position between snores. His face was no longer aimed towards the TV. His closed eyes were facing my mother and me.
When he first moved, I froze, poised to jerk my hands off my mother's tits. Mom's grip on my hands intensified, holding them in place, moulded to her breasts. With no reaction from my father, I returned to playing with my mother's boobs.
At one point, I leaned down to give Mom a hickey making, sucking kiss on her neck. Mom approved of me putting my mark, my brand on her. She moaned that approval.
Mom decided we needed to get back to where we were before my father interrupted us. Once again, she tugged her T-shirt up, freeing her massive tits for my hands. And, once again, I took full advantage of the free access.
We finished watching the movie, mother and son, cuddled up on the couch, indulging in breast play. While the final credits were rolling across the screen, Mom announced she needed to use the washroom. As she was extricating herself from my paws on her chest, I glanced towards my father.
His eyes were open. He was looking at us. But, I don't know if he was awake enough or sober enough to know what his wife and son had been doing. I don't know how long he had been looking at us if that was indeed what he had been doing. I couldn't remember when I had last heard him snoring.
I looked towards Mom and then back again. His eyes were closed once more. I let out a huge sigh of relief before relaxing against the couch once more.
It wasn't long before Mom returned from the bathroom. She lay her body down on the couch with her head in my lap. The next movie had already started but it wasn't catching my attention the way Mom was. She was nuzzling my dick through my sweat pants and even rubbing my nuts.
Within moments of her return, I was sporting a growing hard on. I had my hands on her head encouraging her to play with my dick. My mother really didn't need much encouragement at the worst of times.
I glanced over at my father again. I had to turn my head in order to see him. I wasn't sure but it was possible he was just closing his eyes when he entered my field of vision. He was still facing us from his chair but he wasn't snoring at all. That was odd. By all other indications though, he was asleep.
