Weird Wild Weekend Pt 03

Find the second part here:

https://www.literotica.com/s/weird-wild-weekend-pt-02-sexy-saturday

(Author's note: This is a work of fiction and, as such, does not reflect any actual events. Character resemblance to any persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. The author does not condone any of his demented fantasies being played out in reality unless all parties involved are of legal age, sound mind and fully agreeable to the scenario beforehand. Please, remember it's just a story and try to not take it too seriously. Thanks for reading and happy fapping!)

Sinful Sunday

*****

"Dammit, Sharon! Why didn't you tell me you were going to take him to bed with you?"

"I thought you knew! Jim said you told him to talk to me."

"I knew you wanted to, but I didn't think you'd actually go through with it."

"I wouldn't have if he hadn't mentioned it this morning after you left."

"You couldn't text me an update after telling me about dinner?"

"I didn't think I needed to!"

"Didn't think you needed to let me know you were going to fuck our son?"

"We talked about that last night."

"I didn't know you'd decided to do it this morning!"

"Well, I thought you had already okay'd it."

"What? Why would you think that?"

"Jim said you talked to him about it before I got up. Ask him."

They both turned to look at me and I smiled tightly, desperately trying to not squirm nervously under their sphinx-like gazes. "You did tell me I should talk to her, dad."

"Yeah, about how you're doing. Work and life and thoughts on college, not 'mom wants to fuck, you should jump on that'. I mean, kudos to you for taking the chance I gave you to talk with her about having sex and all, but...damn, Jim! I think you could have just told her for real."

I glanced contritely over at her. "But you did want to, didn't you, mom?"

She harshly knotted her hastily-donned, blue robe shut then wagged a warning finger at me, "oh, no! Don't you try to put this on me. I never would have said a word to you if you hadn't made me think your father had told you...," she faltered, her displeasure tripping over her exposed desires, "about what I wanted." She turned away, hugging her arms around her bosom and looking at the floor.

"She wanted to. You knew she wanted to. I wanted to," I pleaded with dad and tried to shrug it off while frantically wracking my brain for a way out of this mess. "We did. And we had a real good time, didn't we, mom? What's the problem?"

"The problem, son," dad growled at me, "is how did you know she wanted to in the first place? And why wasn't I told? More than a little bit of a shock to walk in on that, let me tell you."

"I knew because mom said so last night," I offered a small piece of the truth carefully, hoping I could fray its edges.

She stiffened and asked over her shoulder, "when did you hear me say that?"

"I overheard you two in your room after you got back from your date. You weren't exactly quiet."

"But you said this morning that we didn't wake you up when we came home," dad countered.

"Its a bit embarassing telling your dad you could hear him having wild sex with your mother. Drunk as you both were, you probably forgot I was even here."

Dad fought to keep an embarrassed grin from wiping away his angry face and lost. "Well, there is that. I barely remember getting to the front door, let alone the bedroom." He jovially nudged mom's stony back, "I wasn't even sure we'd done it last night until I noticed how wet you still were this morning."

I rushed to steer away from that subject, "uh...y-you fell and hit your head in the bathroom after you and mom finished. I couldn't wake you up or move you."

"Why didn't you wake me up to help?" Mom's voice was so cold I shivered involuntarily.

I reached out to touch mom's arm, but she twisted away. "I tried. You were unconscious, too. Thankfully dad was only out for a couple of minutes. When I couldn't wake you, I headed back to check on him and he was already up." I turned back to dad, "you said good night to me when we passed in the hallway. Remember?"

He rubbed at his injury. "I still have a lump, you know. And a headache. And I didn't get dinner, yet."

Mom whirled on him furiously, "Fuck your dinner, Greg! He lied to us. To me! He tricked me into sleeping with him!"

"Yeah, he took advantage of the situation. And, yeah, that was a big line to cross." Dad put his hands on her shoulders, resisting her attempts to brush them away. "But you did want to go to bed with him. You can't take that back now."

"He wasn't supposed to ever know I wanted to," mom sniffed and wiped harshly at one eye before a tear could spill out of it. "Moms aren't supposed to want to do that with their sons."

"We've talked about this, honey. There's nothing strange about loving your son, about wanting to teach him how to be a man. There's nothing wierd about wanting to help him get past the awkwardness of his first time or wanting him to enjoy it. There's nothing abnormal about finding a handsome young man physically attractive. You know I'm not mad at you." He hooked a finger under her chin and kissed her quivering lips softly. She cuddled into his chest as he embraced her, then he glared sternly down at me over her head. "Jim went about things in a very stupid way and I'm not happy about being left out of the decision, but what's done is done. You can't put the smoke back in the transistor as my Uncle Bill used to say."

"I'm sorry, mom. I've wanted you for so long, that when I heard what you said last night, I kind of lost my mind." I got up as my dad gestured with his head towards the door. Mom flinched but didn't pull away when I touched her back. "I should have just told you what I heard. Told you I wanted you, too, instead of using dad to trick you. I wish I had done it differently, but I am glad I did it. I've had an amazing time with you today and I really want to do it again! I hope you can forgive me."

One glittering, dark eye peered at me from behind the mask of her disheavaled hair, then she turned to bury her face against dad's chest. He gave me a frown and kissed the top of her head as he shooed me away. I recognized that "let me talk to her" frown so I gathered up the wad of my clothing and slunk away like a beaten dog, my shame-heavy head slung low between my slumped shoulders. Not knowing what else to do, I crossed to my room and crawled into bed, pulling the covers tight all around me like a cocoon.

The warm darkness under my blankets swallowed me whole and I lay in a sludgy, black puddle of miserable guilt. I had ruined everything. I had taken too much advantage of several situations and now my mother hated me because of my awful lies. I began to prepare a mental inventory of my room for when they kicked me out in the morning and with each thing I considered, the memories attached to my stuff became more and more maudlin and heart-wrenching.

My new clothes and the fun day mom and I had shopping together. I'd have to shop by myself now. The ancient copy of HeroQuest in it's faded and taped-repaired box that my dad found at a yard sale a couple of years ago and all the late nights the three of us had spent around a dinner-table-turned-dungeon-adventure. I wondered if I'd ever get to play it again. Leon, my one-eyed, hug-worn, stuffed lion they got me when a playground accident landed me in the hospital with a broken arm so many years ago. They probably didn't even know I still had him. I shook silently as the tears began to creep blindly down my cheeks. What a damned fool I was! I'd thrown all that happiness away for some sex. I had gotten away with enough last night! Why did I have to push my luck today? Why did I push my luck at all? Why did I have to lust after my own mother so much? Why couldn't I want another girl like a normal guy? What the hell was wrong with me?

My thoughts spiraled off into anger, depression, and self-loathing as I quietly cried myself to sleep.

---

"Jim?"

I pushed the blankets off of me at the sound of my mom's voice from the hallway and stood, swaying sleepily. The walls of my bedroom wobbled groggily in the dimness around me as I swung my door open and rounded the corner. The grey quiet of the house hung in the air like cathedral dust, disconcerting and eerie as I looked around for my mom.

"Jim? Come here. I need you."

When I finally found her, I stood behind her in the hall looking at a familiar scene. My dad was sprawled out on the floor in the bathroom, half-naked and face down in a mess of make-up containers with mom kneeling demurely by his side.

She looked worriedly up at me and asked, "what are we going to do, Jim? I can't wake him!"

I bolted towards them...or I would have if my legs had obeyed my brain's orders. I wanted to run over, but my lower half was heavy and slow as I moved. I tried to rush to them, but it felt as though my feet were becoming a part of the floor, tiny hands grasping at me as I worked to pry up first one foot, then the other. I struggled to force my legs to move through the slogging quicksand it seemed was engulfing them, to make my way to my parents, across the impossible expanse of clutching carpet.

"Help me, Jim," she said as she stood up and reached towards me with one hand, "don't you love me?" She touched her stomach with the fingers of her other hand and I noticed there was something moving there, like a skeletal maggot writhing under the taut skin of a fresh sausage. Her distended belly seem to be swelling roundly, inflating like a balloon as she walked to me. "How are we going to take care of the baby without dad?"

My tongue felt like a lump of useless meat in my mouth, I couldn't make it form the words to answer her; to ask her what the hell was going on. I was wrapped in mummy-cloths of paralysis, the betrayal of my body holding me imprisoned in place, powerless and mute.

Her lovely face distorted with righteous fury at my silence. "Nothing to say, liar? No clever words in your defense? No half-truths and sneaking to get you out of this mess?"

I tried to protest, to plead momentary insanity, to beg forgiveness, anything, but I could make no sounds with my plastic mouth and wooden tongue. The hallway twisted into hellish infinity behind her as she shambled at me, her claw-like fingers reaching for my heart.

"You tricked me! You tricked me!" Her shrieking accusations rose in a fever pitch, digging at my ears like a thousand frightened kittens, echoing through my skull. "Tricked me! Tricked me! Icked me! Icked me! Me! Me! Me!"

---

"Ree-ree-ree-ree-ree!" The alarm on my phone buzzed like a trapped hornet and I fell to the floor in a tangle of limbs, blankets and confusion, blinking blearily at the room around me. I took a deep breath and swallowed hard. It had just been an awful nightmare, the terrible images already fading from memory as the cheery morning sun peeked into my room from behind the curtains. I knuckled at my eyes then crawled out of my covers to look around for my phone and turn off the irritating sound.

I pulled my jeans on slowly, trying to predict what would happen this morning, to figure out what our conversations would be like and what I might say. Nausea and hunger wrestled a jagged boulder back and forth across my protesting stomach as I kept going over and over the events of the last two days, mentally kicking myself for what I'd done. I tugged my shirt over my head and trundled down the stairs, hoping that maybe neither of them had gotten out of bed yet.

No such luck. Dad was waiting for me, seated at the end of the island with a cup of coffee in front of him, and he gestured at a second cup set out in front of a stool near his. "Morning, Jim. Did you manage to get any sleep last night?"

I sat down and poured out a steaming mugful, then stirred in the creamer, intently watching the swirling, dark brown liquid turn light tan so I wouldn't have to meet his gaze. "Some, I guess."

"Mom's out getting us breakfast. Said she wanted some muffins this morning. She's calmed down a bit about the whole sex-with-you thing, but she's still pretty mad at you for lying to her." He leaned over trying to catch my eye. "So am I, son. Why didn't you just tell her the truth? Why didn't you say something to me? I could have helped you talk to her."

"Think about what you're asking, dad," I frowned, flicking glances at him but having a hard time looking at him straight on. "Why didn't I just tell my mom that I overheard her saying to my dad in the heat of passion that she wanted to have sex with me and that, oh, by the way, I wanted to have sex with her, too, so why don't we go do that? How was I supposed to just come out and say something like that? Or come ask you for help getting mom into bed with me? I kind of panicked in the moment and it just sort of came out this way. Once it got going, it was hard to take things back."

"Yeah, and now you got caught." He smirked, "this seems like a familiar lesson. Didn't I teach you this stuff, like, twelve, thirteen years ago?"

"Ha ha ha," I said humorlessly and shook my head. "Sorry, dad. I didn't mean for this to get so weird." An involuntary snort of laughter honked out of my nose. "Didn't mean for sex with my mother to get weird."

Dad chuckled along with me, "it is all kind of strange, isn't it?" He sipped at his coffee and considered for a long moment, then set down his mug and asked, "did I ever tell you about my little sister?"

"Aunt Karen?" I shrugged, lifting my cup, "yeah, what about her?"

"When I was about your age, I had the biggest crush on her."

I nearly showered him with a mouthful of coffee. With great, wide-eyed effort, I swallowed hard and coughed out an incredulous, "what?"

He nodded. "Developed real early, if you know what I mean," he said, gesturing roundly in front of his chest. "She used to wear these tight, white tank tops with no bra and tiny little denim shorts. You know the sort with the frayed white strands at the legs cut so short they barely cover a girl's panties? God, she was sexy as hell." He took a swig of his drink, then said, "and she's also three years younger than me. I never got the chance to do anything with her, but we sure flirted like crazy."

"Really?" My voice cracked from disbelief. "My aunt Karen? The accountant with three kids and a minivan aunt Karen? The one who always wears pantsuits, even to the beach? That aunt Karen? I can not picture her in cut-off short shorts and a tank top!"

"Hey, life can change a person like that," he smiled at his memories, "but, trust me, she used to be scorching hot and not at all afraid to show it. She wouldn't always close doors behind her when she was dressing or showering and she'd go about the house in just her panties until mom and dad would yell at her for it. She was more than a little bit of a tease. Really seemed to get off on dangling herself in front of me and knowing she was untouchable."

"It must have been tough growing up with that and not being able to get any of it."

"It was. I mean, there was this one time that I 'caught' her masturbating in her bedroom when she left the door open for me, and she noticed that I'd seen her and she was laying there with her legs open and her fingers...," he closed his eyes and drifted into momentary silence as he recalled the moment, then shook his head quickly. "Anyway, that's why when I noticed that you were taking a bit of sexual interest in your mom, I told her about my crush on my sister. I didn't want her unknowingly doing to you what my sister did to me. I guess I wanted you to maybe get the chance I didn't. But she had some hang-ups about it, so she tried to not encourage you."

"Lot of good that did," I groused.

"Well, to be fair, she always secretly liked the idea, so she didn't really do too much to cover herself up all the time, did she? It was only recently she was able to admit it turned her on to think of you looking at her like that. I never pushed her about it, but I always made it clear that if she wanted to do something with you, I didn't mind. We got to talking about it again the other night when we got onto the subject of you and the fact that you haven't had much luck with the ladies."

I grunted in rueful agreement.

"And I know that you don't know about it," he continued, looking at me seriously, "but your mom has her own history that she's always tried to protect you from. There's a reason why you've only met your Uncle Blake, like, twice...but, that's not my story to tell. She has some old issues there, so just watch it."

As if on cue, the door rattled open and mom walked in with a small box in her hands and a broad smile on her face. "Hello, boys! Hungry?"

"Hi, honey," dad leaned up for a welcome home kiss, then pulled another mug off the hanging rack and began to fill it with a steaming stream from the pot nearby. "What kind of muffins did you get?

"I couldn't decide, so there's an orange cranberry delight, a blueberry supreme, a double chocolate chunk and a new one they called 'lemon-lime soda'. I figured we could each have a try of that one and a whole one of our own. I'm going to use the bathroom, so just put whichever you two don't pick onto a plate for me." She tousled my hair on the way by, "hey, kiddo. Sleep alright?"

I felt like I wanted to fold myself up, to compact my body down into a tight singularity of worthlessness and vanish in a pop of light and nothing, taking even the memory of my existance with me. How could she be so happy if she was mad at me? And she got me a muffin! I did not deserve a muffin, much less a hello or even a smile.

Dad slid a plate and the box in front of me, "which one you want?"

I randomly plucked the orange cranberry one out of the box with almost numb fingers, plopped it onto my plate and stared at it dejectedly. How could they just casually enjoy muffins and coffee after last night?

Mom strolled back in, tugging her shirt down and patting at her stomach, "whew! Much better! Now that I've made room, I'm ready for some breakfast. Oh, good! I got the chocolate chunk." She sat down between me and dad and began to peel the paper back. "How you doing, Jim? Enjoying your muffin?"

I felt like I was going to burst, sitting here being asked such mundane questions. Where was the yelling? The interrogation? The demands for answers? Where did my parents go? These two were not acting like the people who I remembered raising me. "I'm sorry I lied to you, mom," I blurted out, eager to get this over with.

She shrugged and popped a piece of muffin into her mouth, "I know."

I looked to dad for guidance, but he just gave me a look that said 'you're on your own, now, kid' and sipped his coffee, his eyes twinkling from the smile he refused to allow onto his lips. "I'm sorry I tricked you, and I promise, I won't ever do anything like that again. I should have just told you I wanted you."

"Mmmm-hmmm," she nodded slightly and sipped her coffee.

"Err, so, um," I stumbled onward, uncertain how to respond to her nonchalance. "I hope you can forgive me for letting my little head do the thinking for me?"

"Sure," she agreed and ripped another hunk off of her food.

My brow furrowed deeply with confusion. "Why aren't you yelling at me? Aren't you mad at me? Aren't you going to punish me?"

"You've probably been punishing yourself over this much better than I could and it'll likely take you a couple of weeks to forgive yourself anyway." She looked at me coolly, "besides, I don't think this warrants something like a grounding or anything. You're kind of an adult now."

"So, no grounding? You're not going to make me move out? No punishment? Nothing?"

She smiled wickedly, "I wouldn't say 'nothing'. I'm not going to treat you like a kid anymore, though. I have an idea in mind that I think might be fitting."