Not Yet But Now 15

Not Yet But Now, Ch. 15 of 15
by Dirty Pierre

As anyone who’s brought home a newborn can tell you, life ain’t worth shit for a while. I’d not anticipated the degree to which the little devil would dictate hours of waking, snatched patches of sleeping, and constant piles of no they’re the clean, no they’re the drying, no they’re the dirty clothes and nappies. Mum was feeling it: she didn’t have quite the reserves that she’d had twenty-odd years earlier. And I was feeling it, like I’d gone forty days and forty nights with Orwell’s Ministry of Love.

So it was surprising that tiny Arabella so wormed her way into my heart, despite her cruel treatment of me. And Mum’s heart too, though that is of course supposed to happen.

“My boobs are so sore, sweetie,” Mum complained as she lay bare breasted in bed, some weeks after her return home. “She’s feeding well, but I’m producing so much milk, and they’re so swollen…”

This was true. Mum’s ever-generous breasts had ballooned in leaky milkiness. “…It’s worse than when I had you or Alice. And then I had your father to relieve the pressure…”

“What? You fed him?”

“Uh-huh. Would you like some of Mummy’s milk, sweetie?”

“Oh, Mum…” I could feel my cock stiffening at the thought.

“Here, darling, come and let me feed you.”

She propped herself up on her pillows and waited, bright eyed, as I disrobed and crawled in beside her. We kissed, then I wriggled down and she cradled my head in her arm, bringing her fat nipple to my mouth.

“Take it in deep, darling,” she encouraged, “Ah yes, that’s it, milk me sweetheart, just gently, do you feel it?”

I murmured “yes” as the warm thin fluid began to flow from her. Each time I drew upon her nipple I was rewarded with a little milky taste. She sighed contentedly and stroked my hair.

“It’s so lovely being able to feed you again, darling. To feel you pulling at my teat and suckling from me. Mmm…”

I was very hard. I began to stroke my cock as I fed from her. She, too, was excited, reaching across me to touch her clit.

“I suppose I was naughty when you were little, sweetheart,” she continued, “I’d often masturbate while you were feeding. You don’t mind, do you? Now we can do it together, especially while my poor pussy’s recovering…”

I could feel the muscles of Mum’s forearm rippling rhythmically against my chest as she fingered herself. She groaned a little, and I felt her spreading her thighs and settling to the business of pleasuring herself. For my own part, having had limited release in the weeks since the birth, I took care not to stimulate my heated prick too quickly, but stroked its veined hardness gently. I was conscious, too, of pleasing Mum with a display of my excitement, knowing the pleasure it gave her to watch me masturbate. I gripped the base with one hand, holding it out stiffly from my body, moaning my pleasure into her full, warm breast as I caressed myself with the other.

“Lovely, darling,” she murmured, “Such a lovely hard penis; so hot and fat; does it feel good?”

“Ooh yes, Mum”, I responded, letting her nipple slip from my mouth, “You know I love teasing myself for you. I like you to watch, see how excited I get for you…”

“You know, sweetheart, when you were tiny, I sometimes used to kiss your little penis after your bath. And feel it growing all hot and stiff when I took it in my mouth…”

I latched back on, drawing from her breast more strongly. It was not something of which I had any memory, but the revelation that Mum had always taken erotic pleasure in me sent a hot thrill through my body. I paused.

“Were you fingering yourself while you did that, Mummy?”

“Yes, darling, I was masturbating, just as I am now, playing with my clit, only I never really believed I’d have my son’s beautiful grown-up cock to love…”

“You know I get so hard for you, Mummy…”

“Oh yes I know, darling, I love watching you stroke yourself and making yourself cum for me, splattering me with your delicious hot sperm, so excited by Mummy, I can’t wait ‘til you can fill me up again, feel your warm semen oozing down my thighs after you’ve fucked me, when I’m out with friends, knowing my cunt’s full of my son’s sperm, leaking into my panties and down my legs, I love it so much…”

Her eyes closed as she replayed her fantastical memories, her arm taut across my body as she worked on herself. Her hot talk had me near the brink of wet explosion.

“Fuck yourself, Mummy, fuck your lovely Mummy-cunt, your hot juicy hole…”

“Oh yes, darling, I used to fuck myself while I sucked my baby’s sweet little erection, just like a little teat, only of course you couldn’t feed me the way I was feeding you…”

“Would you like me to feed you now, Mummy?”

“Oh! Would you, sweetheart? Yes! I want to feed from your cock.”

I could tell that she was becoming increasingly excited, her hips twitching involuntarily, the muscles of her arm more tensely purposeful. I rose to my knees and offered my pulsing rod to her.

“Oh God, I love the smell of you”, she murmured, turning up her chin and rubbing my weeping member over her face, traces of pre-cum shining on her skin, “Your cock, your balls…”

“Go on, Mummy, fuck your beautiful cunt, your beautiful wet, hairy cunt, make it feel good, feel so good with your Mummy fingers…”

“Oh fuck yes, darling, I’ve got my fingers right up my hole, God it’s so hot, so wet for you…”

“Playing with your clit, you dirty Mummy, playing with your clit in front of your son…”

“Give me your cock, quick, give it to me! Feed me your semen, darling, feed me your hot goo as I make myself cum…mmm…”

Her lips closed around the head of my cock, and I stroked myself over the edge to a wrenching orgasm, spurting hotly into her warm, wet mouth, her cheeks drawn in and her tongue rapidly working against the underside of the head as she drew out my spermy load.

“Eat my cum, Mummy, you know how I love to cum for you, oh, eat all my hot love…”

“Oh, darling”, she exclaimed, my pearly juice dribbling from her lips, “Watch Mummy cum too, sweetheart, watch me cum, watch me cum as I drink your sperm…”

Closing her mouth over me again, she moaned and thrashed to her own climax, long and powerful, her eyes squeezed tight, her mouth hotly draining me. Slowly she relaxed as the wave subsided and her eyes fluttered open. Raising her arm, she passed the hand with which she’d masturbated beneath her nose and held it out to me. I bent forward and took her fingers in my mouth, savouring the reassuringly familiar taste of her cunt on them as she smiled at me.

“I think I’m just about ready to fuck again, darling”, she declared. “At least my pussy is recovering, but I can’t say the same about my tummy.” She pulled a face. “It’s all soft and horrible. And these breasts – god I’ve just turned into a fat heifer…”

“No, Mum”, I insisted, “You’re gorgeous.” I stroked her belly and bent to kiss a fat, milky nipple.

“Well, sweetheart”, she added, her voice dropping, “Thank you for taking away the swelling. That one’s much more comfortable now. Would you like some more?”

She propped herself back on her pillows and squeezed behind the nipple of her other breast between thumb and forefinger. A pearly drop magically appeared at the tip. She let it run onto her finger and held it out, pressing it to my lips. “Perhaps you’d like to masturbate again, darling. I know the past few weeks have been frustrating for you.”

I lay down and placed my head in her lap once more, turning to her breast and latching on as she stroked my cheek. My hand went once more to my cock, working it quickly back to hardness, stroking gently as I fed from her, she running fingers softly through my hair.

So passed several quiet minutes, before she worked her finger into the corner of my mouth to break suction, saying, “We have to remember Bella, darling. It’s not all for you.”

I’d been pleasantly aroused, not rushing toward orgasm, but still felt a desire to have my mouth on her body.

“Mummy?”

“Yes darling?”

“Could I lick you, please?”

“I’d like that, sweetie. On all fours?”

It was a rhetorical question. She knew that I liked to tongue her from behind, with her buttocks well spread and anus displayed, open, inviting. As she turned over and stuck out her arse I moved behind her. She flexed her crinkled brown pucker hornily, and reached beneath her belly to run a finger down her furry cunt lips, separating them in lewd show.

“Show me your cunt, Mummy, show me your pink hole…Oh thank you…”

She parted her lips, opening her cunt-mouth to my gaze, the portal to that channel of pleasure through which I’d come into the world, to which I’d returned over and over in embracing love and in hot forbidden lust, in which I’d planted my seed, from which our child had been born. Was there anything more lovely in this world than to worship this soft wet chalice with mouth and cock and sperm? To fill her to overflowing with loving heat and spurting semen?

I bent to clamp my mouth upon her opening, pressing my tongue deep, inhaling the sweaty ripeness of her arsehole, drinking the precious fluid of cunt, of perfect Mummy cunt.

“Oh darling,” she moaned. “Oh that’s so good… My love, my love…”

She reached below her belly to play with her clit as I feasted on her juicy hole. I gently probed inside her with my tongue, pushing past the threshold and as deep into her channel as I could.

“Oh fuck yes, darling, suck my cunt…”

I feasted long and luxuriously on her wet gash, greedily sucking at her pink hole as she toyed with her sensitive button and moaned once more, her pleasure mounting. My love, my whore, who lets me drink from her cunt; my lewd enchantress, who entices me so to join in her forbidden lusts, my cheeks pressed to her spread thighs, my tongue snaking out to taste her hot, moist nest, taste of woman, taste of Mummy, taste of cunt, taste of Mummy cunt, Mummy cunt for me, such a perverted Mummy, so excited as she plays with herself, her son dutifully worshipping her fertile hole with lips and tongue, such a kinky Mummy, who wriggles her hips to invite my oral attention to her winking anus, to increase her dirty pleasure, and so, with my tongue now rhythmically probing her relaxing arsehole, my face smeared with cunt and spit, Mummy drives herself towards orgasm once more, elemental and grunting, my incestuous slut mother, so devoted to the delights of her fiery cunt.

“Darling, darling,” she panted, leaning forward to break from my mouth, “Stop. Stop a moment.”

“What’s up, Mum?”

“I want something else, sweetheart. I think I’m up to it. Would you mind terribly – fucking me up the arse while I cum?”

“Oh Mum, of course,” I smiled, slipping myself back off the bed and standing behind her, stroking her flanks. She scooted forward and rummaged in the open drawer of her bedside table.

“Here, I think I need you to use a bit of this,” she said, handing me the tube. I squeezed the cold gel onto my palm and greased my cock liberally.

“So slick and shiny,” Mum purred, unable to resist stroking me, adding wistfully,

“I want to see it going up my arsehole: that would be so hot.”

“Well, here,” I suggested, “Come over in front of the mirror.”

Mum bent before the large mirror on her dressing table, sticking out her bottom, her tousled hair and full, swinging dugs reflected in the glass. I picked up her hand mirror and held it behind her as she stuck her bottom out. “Can you see?”

“Mmm, a bit…here, give it to me – that’s better, I can see my hole, now rub your cock on it…oh that looks so sexy, your big cockhead rubbing against my tiny little pucker, so nasty to think what you’re going to do to me, you’re going to fuck your mother up the arse, you’re going to…oh shit oh fuck look how you’re stretching my little hole, oh yow, you dirty bugger, sticking your cock up my shitter, you’re pushing it right up my arse, right up Mummy’s horny arse…”

“Mmmm, you dirty bitch,” I moaned in delight, her brown ring stretched obscenely by my glistening member, her eyes looking back at me from the mirror glazed in a mixture of pain and pleasure as she bit her lower lip. I sank gently into the heat of her rectum, right to the root of my cock, pressing my thighs against hers, and reached round to cup her hanging tits. She put down the hand mirror and braced her arms on the dressing table.

Nuzzling her earlobe, I weighed her milky breasts in my hands and whispered to her, “You are so corrupt and filthy, Mummy, such a dirty incest-loving slut, aren’t you?”

“Yes, oh yes,” she panted, “I am a slut. I love cock. And I love it in my arse.”

“Your son’s cock…” I slowly began to hump her, now pinching her fat nipples between thumb and forefinger, pulling on them.

“Especially my son’s cock, stretching my arsehole as he fucks me with it…”

“So dirty, Mummy, watching my cock going up your arse…”

“Oh it feels so fucking good! I can’t believe it! So hot inside me, God how I need this, so good, so fucking good, oh…use me, use my hole, that’s it, baby, oh fuck! I can feel you on my g-spot, you’re gonna make me cum, I’m gonna cum, gonna cum on my son’s big dick, in my arse, in my arse…”

“Oh fuck, Mum, oh Jesus…”

“Yeah, give it to me, give it to me, cum in me, cum up my arse…”

“Oh you fucking bitch…”

“…Yes! Yes!…”

“…You filthy fucking whore…”

“Yes, baby, yes, cum with me…”

“Oh Mum! Oh yeah! Oh!…Fuck!” I could feel her anus spasming around my cock, clenching greedily as I roared over the edge, slamming my thighs against hers, throbbing and pulsing, my hot load spurting deep into her bowels in filthy ecstasy, both of us cumming, cumming hard, rutting bestially in hot lust, triumphing over all decency, mother and son joined in unholy animal delight.

And, God, it felt so fucking good, too. This woman, so willing to be violated by her own offspring, to pursue her shameful carnal pleasures with her own flesh and blood, gloriously unrepentant and defiant. Me, so eager to join with her, to pursue our degenerate perversity ever further, to taste together any and all kinds of debased sexual pleasure.

Then, as we recovered, we giggled together.

“That was nice,” Mum said brightly, “We should do it again some time.”

“Any time you like, Mama.”

“…And who’d have thought I could orgasm just from having you in my arse? This child-bearing seems to have wrought strange changes within me…I’ll certainly be ordering more butt-fucking in future. Mmmm,” she went on, as she expelled my cock from her greasy hole.

“You truly are a filthy bitch, Mum.”

“And you love it, don’t you dear? Dirty sex with Mummy – how positively awful!”

Our banter was interrupted by the sound of hec, hec-hec from the cot. We’d made it just in time; Mum leaned over to pluck our little one from her bed.

~ ~ ~

Alice had been sent abroad for some work project and wasn’t able to see the baby for a good couple of months after the birth. She was appropriately complimentary about the beautiful Arabella, but there was something distant in her manner, too.

We were alone in the kitchen while Mum napped following a feed.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“Nothing,” she lied, “I’m fine. I mean, she’s very cute, I have to give you that, but jeez, you have given yourself a big degree of difficulty here.”

“It’s not so bad. I’m back at uni, Mum’s looking after her, it’s not so different from before.”

“The sleepless nights, the dirty nappies…”

“Oh yeah, but she’s sleeping longer and longer now, and I can always move into my room when I really need to.”

“Hmmm, I s’pose.”

She was holding something back.

“What’s with you? That ain’t it.”

“Oh – oh fuck, Rabbit. I’m just so over all this. You and Mum, it’s just…”

“And you, too…”

“Yeah, but now it’s you and Mum and the baby. I don’t think…I don’t feel the same about it anymore. I don’t think I could, you know…”

We didn’t. Not during that visit. Neither she and Mum, nor she and me.

And contact with her was even less frequent afterwards. Though the next year she dutifully introduced us to the man she proposed to marry: Geoffrey. Geoffrey was pleasant enough, a bit plump, older by at least 10 years. But obviously solicitous of Alice’s feelings.

And, as it turned out, a very devout Baptist. The reception was full of teetotallers, and no concession was made to our more liberal tastes.

“God, I need a drink”, Mum confided in me as we sat through yet another tiresome speech by one of Geoffrey’s dull, worthy relatives.

“This is why incest is taboo,” she continued, “To stop the world from being overrun by people like this.”

I laughed and sipped my lemonade.

“We should have another baby, to bring some balance into the equation.” Explaining mother’s late-blooming offspring to Geoffrey’s family had been awkward. The casual accident lie had been told easily enough, but their disapproval of Arabella’s bastard status was not very well-disguised. God knows how they’d have reacted if they knew the truth.

Still, so far as we could tell at our increasing distance, they were good to Alice. So, into Bella’s second, third and fourth years. Grandma departed the land of the living, I graduated, found work and began serving time. We moved back to our old house and were soon enough looking for a school for the little one. As might be imagined, Arabella’s growing consciousness forced a degree of circumspection upon us, we having decided that I was to be her brother, not her father. Still, Mum and I managed to find sufficient occasion to release each other’s sexual tensions, though it tended to be late at night while our wee girl slept. Just like most married couples, I suppose. Sometimes loving and tender: she was still my mother. Sometimes deliciously dirty: she remained a panting, filthy whore.

All of which might suggest that I didn’t have an independent social life. Which was true. The number of eligible women of approximately my own age who appeared on the horizon was large; the number appearing at closer quarters was nil. Nor did I have many male friends, or see anything of the few female friends that Mum still had following her frightful French affair. So, outside work things tended towards isolation.

Bella was seven when Mum got sick. And sicker. We knew the end was coming, despite our hopes. Alice reappeared more often, though not as often as she might have wished. Geoffrey, too, made a decent show of things, gentle with Alice and Mum alike, and less preachy than I feared. Who knows – perhaps his prayers brought Mum some comfort.

For Arabella and me it was hard. Was it Eliot who said, “In my end is my beginning”? Coming to know the place for the first time? I’m not too sure about that. More a case of history repeating itself, and, as far as I could tell, there was no lesson in it, no shaft of enlightenment piercing the fog of our looming grief. How do you break the notion of death to a child? Mummy is sick, Mummy is very sick. Mummy is not going to be with us? Mummy is going to be in heaven, looking down on you? Something like that, something like all of those. It’s when she was no longer there that Bella began to grasp the loss, when she was not there yesterday and still not there today, and the realisation started to dawn that she would not be there tomorrow, either.

And I lost my mother, too. And the mother of my child. And the smart, naughty, playful, sexy, dirty woman who knew me better than any person has a right to know; who knew all this of me and yet still loved me. My emptiness was great.

So we mucked along as best we could. The pain goes away slowly. A kid makes friends, gets caught up in her world. It’s still there, but no longer so raw. As the elder brother in loco parentis I seemed to be flat out acting dutiful. Parent-teacher interviews – no she is my baby sister, not my daughter – birthday parties – our mother died a couple of years ago, yes it’s very sad – visits to the park, to kids’ matinees, doing the shopping perforce together on Saturdays and no you may not have another packet of chocolate biscuits: remember what happened last time? Well, you didn’t have to clean it up, Bella, but we are not doing it again.

We were making our usual journey up and down the aisles one Saturday and Bella had ducked ahead to find jelly crystals when I heard a vaguely familiar voice.

“Peter? Peter Campbell?”

I looked around. It was a young woman pushing a stroller with some sticky infant in it. I’m sure I knew…

“You don’t remember me, do you? Lucy, Lucy Thomas.”

Oh fuck yes, I surely do remember you. The shame of it.

“Hi, Lucy! How are you? This little one yours?”

“Yes. He’s two.”

“Hello, Two,” I said. “It’s been so long since I saw you, jeez, it feels like a lifetime. What are you up to?”

“Well just looking after him at the moment, his Dad’s off getting some stuff at the hardware.”

This conversation was not proceeding at all smoothly, I noticed. Bella appeared, with a red packet in her hand.

“Lucy, this is my little sister, Bella. Say hello, Bella”

She did.

“Little sister?”

“It’s a long story. Mum had a bit of a fling, ah, she was abroad, and, ah, the rest is history as they say.”

Lucy almost flinched at the mention of Mum’s name.

“She looks so like you.”

“Really?” I could feel my colour rising.

“Yes, she’s got your eyes, and your nose and…”

I shook my head and stared hard at her.

“…Oh Jesus,” she breathed, raising her hand to her mouth, “Oh shit no. No…”

She turned quickly, thrusting the stroller away in front of her.

“Who was that?” Bella asked.

“Oh, ah, someone I knew once. Now show me, what dreadful poison have you got there?”

“Red jelly.”

“Red? Why, that’s my favourite flavour! And it will make us hyperactive, too. That’s something to look forward to, isn’t it? Come on…”

~ ~ ~

I had a call last week. It was Alice.

“Pete, can I come and stay for a few days?”

“Sure. Hey, you sound a bit down. What’s up?”

“Nothing. I’ll tell you when I see you. Maybe.”

She arrived on Saturday. Snappy little Euro-car as befits the successful rising executive. Snappy clothes, too. Bella was of course delighted to see her Aunty Alice: the two blondes, one a budding teenager, the other now in her early thirties. Both pretty cute, though I say so who shouldn’t.

There was no Geoffrey. What was with that?

“We’ve separated. Let’s talk about it later, not now.”

It wasn’t until after 10:00, when Bella had gone to bed – and after well more than one bottle of red – that we got to talk.

“Pete, you know she made us both so fucked up.”

“Oh I dunno, d’you really think so?”

“Yeah, I do. I mean, shit, look at you: thirty two, living with a thirteen year old sister who’s really your daughter, and like a fucking hermit. You never go anywhere, you never see anyone apart from me.”

“It’s not so bad. I’m used to it. More to the point, what’s happened with you?” She sighed.

“Oh look, he is a good person, he really is; I tried, truly, I tried hard, I thought…” She fell silent.

“You thought…?”

“I…thought he could sort of…cure me, I suppose, stop me feeling that way, y’know?”

She drew in a long breath.

“Have you told Bella?”

“No, God no.”

“Are you going to tell her?”

“Maybe. Not yet, but…”

“Now.”

She turned to face me on the couch.

“For so long, y’know…I, I tried to stop wanting…It’s always been you, Pete. Only you. Take me to bed. And fuck me. For the love of God, fuck me.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

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