Becca awoke with a start. She was lying on her side, completely nude, sandwiched between her sons. Michael's arm lay stretched across her waist, his sleeping face resting against her tits. Paul was snuggled up behind her with one leg nudged in between hers.
Outside the bedroom window, the sun was just above the horizon. This time of year, that meant it was well past seven. She'd fallen asleep for the last time somewhere after two o'clock. Stretches of the night were a blur, but some memories stood out as deliciously vivid. This morning her mind was clear. Not for a moment did she entertain the excuse that any of what they'd done together was a dream.
She'd told herself that she'd put off her doubts until tomorrow. "Tomorrow" was today.
Taking care not to wake the guys, she raised herself on one elbow. She was stuck to them in a dozen places by dried semen. The damn stuff was everywhere, plastered across her chest, arms, and face as well as some dribbles between her thighs.
She wasn't sure how many cum showers Paul and Michael had given her. After the first time they'd emptied their balls over her body she'd drifted off to sleep, dozing for less than an hour before Paul woke her by spreading her legs apart and planting his mouth against her cunt. Michael sat up beside her sporting a hard-on as big and stiff as the one he'd been so anxious to drain earlier. Once more, they took turns on her pussy and tits and all the most sensitive parts of her body, rousing her into a sexual frenzy that they relieved only when they saw that she'd reached the end of her tether.
She'd jacked them off again until they'd painted her in more jism from head to toe. Getting them off took longer the second time. Paul seemed especially determined to win some unspoken contest with his mother by holding out as long as humanly possible before unloading onto her back and ass.
The third round took longer still.
They finished off the edibles. Somewhere in the middle of it all, Becca became convinced that her sons were not human at all, that somehow she'd borne two heavy-hung mutants who needed no rest, equipped with cum tanks holding inexhaustible oceans of hot seed.
That had seemed entirely plausible, the fourth time they hosed her down with semen. But then, at last, they were done.
Done for the night, at least. What would they be like when they woke up?
Becca continued trying to extricate herself from the tangle of naked bodies without disturbing her sons. She couldn't move her legs without rubbing against Paul's cock, which stiffened automatically at the friction. Christ, for all of his boasting about control, his dick had a mind of its own. All it needed was a mother's touch to rise like a young tree. And when she put her hand on Michael's hip, hoping to roll him from his side onto his back so that she could get a leg over him and leverage herself onto the floor, the effect was the same--his cock stiffened and grew, poking up against her forearm.
She noticed that the backs of her hands were covered in a cloudy film of dried cum. Without a second thought, she lifted one to her mouth and licked the flaky residue from it. The all-but-forgotten flavor of jism made her insides flutter. If the remnants of Michael's ejaculation had such an effect on her, what would the taste of fresh, warm semen be like?
.
Not gonna find out. Not today.
What the three of them had done last night was wrong, very wrong. But she told herself that it wasn't incest. They hadn't penetrated her, so no sex. Okay, that was bullshit, but if she put a stop to this now they could all agree later to blame it on booze and drugs. Whatever was in the bag had been too strong, or it was the wrong kind of whatever it was. Their total loss of inhibitions had been unforeseeable. No one's fault. Certainly not hers.
Such a flimsy rationalization might be a way to back off before they committed a truly unforgivable act. Becca could almost convince herself, but the thorny question remained: did Paul and Michael want to stop?
Did she?
Coffee. Shower first, then coffee.
The coiled muscles of Michael's arm tightened around his mother's waist. He pulled her snugly against his chest and his eyes flickered open.
"Morning, Mom." He smiled drowsily.
"Morning." Becca kissed him chastely on the nose. "You go on back to sleep, honey. I've got to go."
"Where?" The bass rumble of Paul's voice resonated through her rib cage as he pressed himself against her back. "Where you goin'?" His hard, huge cock grazed her pussy. To her alarm, her slit grew moist as the top of his shaft slid along it. He pulled his hips back a few inches, until his glans nestled between her cunt lips. He kissed the nape of her neck. "Lift your leg a little, awright?"
Becca sucked in her breath and held it. If she did as Paul asked, he'd slide his cock right in and start fucking her before she could object.
Panicking, she slapped him on the flank hard enough to hurt her hand.
"Ouch!" When Paul jerked away from her, Becca vaulted over Michael onto the floor.
"I'm gonna shower." She skipped into the bathroom as if nothing about the situation was odd in any way. "Then breakfast. Get cracking, guys."
Alone in the glass stall, she turned the shower up as far as it would go. The hot needles of water on her upturned helped to clear her mind but couldn't rinse away her emotional turmoil. She kept remembering holding her sons' rigid cocks in her hands for the first time. Kissing and being kissed by them...their mouths on her cunt and tits. The torment of being denied orgasm, and her grateful ecstasy when they'd finally relented and let her cum.
Her sons had enjoyed her in any way they'd pleased for hours, always gentle but always firmly leading her as if she had no will of her own.
The most appalling part was how much she'd loved every second of it. The very memory was making her horny again. She had to regret what she'd allowed them to do to her. And she feared what they all might do together if she didn't put a stop to it.
Even so, the sensual possibilities of just letting it all unfold held her spellbound.
No. The consequences of incest were terrible and certain. Becca was sure of it.
That was ages ago. Stay in the present.
She uncapped the body wash and inhaled its fragrance. The bathroom door's hinges squeaked as it opened behind her; the damn lock had needed repair for decades. Tall shadows moved beyond the steamy, reeded glass of the stall. The shower door slid open and her sons squeezed into the tiny space with her.
