Not Yet But Now 6

Not Yet But Now, Ch. 6 of 15
by Dirty Pierre

Despite her evident enthusiasm for sticky sex play en famille, Mum’s public face was generally quite demure. This is not to say that she was unaware of the power of her considerable physical charms. So, when the following Saturday turned out unusually warm in our shopping excursion for the promised new bed, she dressed to maximise her bargaining power. She poured her sexy bottom into a pair of tight denim shorts that barely covered her arse and snugly traced her pussy lips. On top she wore a blouse tied above her navel that only served to draw attention to her bountiful cleavage. The occasional glimpse of sheer red bra added a little something, too. The overall effect, from the wavy dark hair spilling round her shoulders to the pedicured toes peeking from her high-heeled sandals could best be described as trailer park whore.

Alice wore a thin pale yellow cotton dress through which the hint of teen nipples could be seen in certain light. I suppose that more thorough planning might have had me in leather shorts in case the salesman turned out to be gay, but that was not to be: dull jeans and t-shirt were my lot.

At the first shop we saw nothing of interest. Though we bounced on the beds, they all struck us as insufficiently robust for our needs. Did the staff think it odd that all three of us lay together on a series of mattresses, discussing their features and failings?

The second emporium was far more promising. A king bed and base almost at hip height. And a good firm mattress that supported all of us, even when Alice and I began elbowing, jousting and rolling on top of each other. That diverted the dopey salesman’s attention from Mum’s luxurious tits, and when she rose to negotiate, gently placing her hand on his forearm, he stood no chance. Yes, and three sets of linen. And also the headboard and footboard – the ones with the rails, not the faux Queen Anne. Really? That much off? The deal was swiftly sealed. Delivery during the week, Wednesday would be fine.

“Which do you think he was staring at more?” Alice asked on the way home.

“Mum’s tits or my arse?”

“Hard to say,” I replied, “He practically had his tongue hanging out.”

“Do you think he saw that I wasn’t wearing any panties?”

“Oh, Alice!” Mum scolded, “That’s naughty! But really, you shouldn’t: we need to be a little more discreet.”

“Oh it’s alright for you,” Alice bridled. “Dressing up like some slutty divorcee. Jeez, you pretty much shoved your tits down his throat.”

“But I like Dolly Parton!” Mum responded, “Seriously, though, I’m just saying that we should be careful not to draw attention to our, uh, unusual family arrangement.”

I was already conscious that our mutual sexual enjoyment had a name, and that it was generally frowned on. Early days though it was, being conscious that I was engaging in incestuous play with both female members of my family brought an added frisson to my status as a young teenager, few of whom were playing with anyone but themselves, let alone with mother or sister. But I got a strong sense from what Mum said that our sexual explorations were something truly taboo, that their discovery would involve uncertain but dire consequences.

For the time being, however, my concerns ended at the front door. Once inside, Alice announced that she was going to sunbathe, and began slipping her dress off over her head as she walked to her room, her little bottom jiggling from side to side as she went.

Mum put down her bag and keys in the kitchen and wrestled with the waistband of her shorts.

“God, these things are tight!” she exclaimed, finally getting the button undone, “I must be going through a growth spurt. Still,” she continued, opening the front to reveal sheer red panties beneath, “The seam does rub rather nicely. I might need a little light relief before going much further.”

Turning her bum to me for effect, she wriggled her way out of them, before adjusting her half-shed g-string, seating it snugly between her arse cheeks and letting the elastic snap into place on her hips.

Alice pranced past us, naked save for a pair of sunglasses, her arms full of towel, lotion and book, and went out the back door. Through the kitchen window, we watched her spread the towel on the sunlounge and begin anointing herself with the sun-lotion, rubbing it sensuously over her tits, feeling her nipples and making them fatten, smoothing her hands languorously over her calves and thighs, her tummy, gently exploring between her legs.

“Isn’t she pretty?” Mum sighed wistfully, “So slim. She didn’t get it from me.”

“Oh, Mum.” I nuzzled her neck from behind, slipping my arms round her, plucking at the knot of her blouse.

“Here, sweetie.” Mum looked down and unfastened it herself, allowing me to remove it. She drew her shoulders back slightly, allowing a gap between her bra strap and her spine. I undid her bra and peeled it from her shoulders, then reached round and cupped her tits in my hands, kissing her neck.

“Mmmm,” she purred, arching her back and rubbing her bottom against my growing bulge. Breaking away from me, she moved forward to the sink beneath the window. We watched as Alice lazily toyed with herself on the sunlounge, one leg stretched out, the other drawn up, her book open in one hand.

“So sexy,” whispered Mum.

Behind her, I pulled my t-shirt over my head and climbed out of my pants, before embracing her again, rubbing my stiff cock against her bottom. I reached down and brushed my fingers over her pussy, feeling, through the gauze, the little cleft at the top where her plump cunt lips met.

“Uhn,” murmured Mum appreciatively, instinctively opening her legs a little and wiggling her bottom against my cock. Her hand followed mine, but reached beneath it, inside her panties, to stimulate her clit.

Squatting down, I peeled the g-string from her sticky crotch and pulled the tiny scrap of garment down to her knees before letting it fall. Mum bent forward a little, continuing to tease her moistening slit, bracing herself against the sink with her free hand.

I held her hips and kissed the dimples in the small of her back. Spreading her legs further, Mum displayed more of her arse crack to me, and I ran my tongue wetly along it, inhaling the scent of her skin.

“Oh darling, I’m not clean!” she protested, arching her back and presenting her hairless arsehole to me even more lewdly. Yes! Her crotch wafted and tasted a little sweaty and used. How base and filthy! How good! I licked the brown puckered treasure gently, reverentially, slowly luxuriating in the dirty delight of running my tongue over every tiny wrinkle, in exploring my mother’s most intimate, secret place, in the hint of darkness in its flavour, in feeling it relax and respond as I probed it, Mum writhing in pleasure as she fingered herself to orgasm, her thighs shaking as she came.

“Thank you, sweetheart, thank you,” she purred as I stood to receive her kiss, “I know it’s wicked, but I do love having my bottom licked.”

“And I love to do it for you,” I replied.

My taste for anal play in its many forms, though gained in the wake of shock, was firmly fixed in those few days. Thanks for that, mother; I suppose.

And she was not forgetting me.

“I know we can’t make love, sweetie, but would you like to rub yourself against my pussy?”

She turned back to face the window, and reached between her legs to take hold of my cock. Working her hips back and forth, she spread cunt-wetness over it before closing her legs, trapping it against her warm moist crotch. Needing no further invitation, I gripped her hips and began thrusting hotly back and forth, working my engorged dick along her cunt lips. “Is that good, darling?”

“Oh, yes…”

“Do you like rubbing your cock on me? Does it make you want to cum?”

I could sense her heavy tits swaying as I worked my hips against her arse, its warm soft flesh moulding to my hips with each thrust, her hot crotch a silky gloved hand around my horny teen member.

“Oh fuck, Mum, yes! I do want to cum. I want to cum all over you…”

“Do it, darling, do it!”

As I came, my hot spurts of boy-cream gushed between her smooth thighs and into the hand she cupped in front of her pussy. And as my climax died away she brought it to her lips, lapping up the warm sticky pool from her palm.

“You do have delicious semen, sweetheart,” she reassured me. “I don’t like to see it go to waste. You know,” she added conspiratorially, “sometimes I’ve put your dirty ‘jama bottoms in my mouth and sucked on them when I’ve been touching myself, to have a little taste.” My eyes widened.

“Oh yes, Mums do masturbate, too, you know,” she went on, perhaps misunderstanding my surprise. “Just like their boys. And their girls.” Glancing past her through the window I saw that Alice had now turned onto her tummy. Both hands were plunged between her legs beneath her and her cute little bottom was working rapidly up and down.

“Look, Mum,” I nudged her.

As we watched, Alice paused a few moments, stretched her legs and shifted position before resuming her self-pleasure. We could now see that she was humping the spine of her book as she held it between her legs.

“It must be a good read,” Mum mused, as Alice frotted randily, dipping a finger into her little cunt and bringing it to her mouth before her movements slowed, first her legs tensing, then a long agonised trembling of her arse as she came, her face screwed up in impossible pleasure. She flopped forward onto her chest, flicking the book aside onto the concrete. Her hips twitched with little aftershocks.

Coming to, she lifted her head and rose, sauntering back to the door.

“What are you reading, sweetie?” Mum enquired, as she entered.

“Shakespeare.” Alice opened the fridge and bent to take out the jug of cold water we always kept there. “Midsummer Night’s Dream…”

“Hmm,” Mum mused, “Love looks not with the mind but with the eyes. Or perhaps it’s the other way round.”

“It IS the other way round,” Alice corrected her.

I inherited that volume of the comedies when I studied them a couple of years later.

At some point, I noticed, Alice had marked those lines in Act 5, Scene 1:

“Lovers and madmen have such seething brains

Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend

More than cool reason ever comprehends.”

I’m now not sure whether we three were lovers or madmen. Or both. But of shaping fantasies I have no doubt.

When I first got the book, I believed I could detect the scent of her pussy on it. No longer. But there remains a stain beneath the title along the spine and spreading to the boards which, though devaluing it in the eyes of the unknowing, affords me a memento beyond price. The memory of watching my sister that day, making it wet it with the juice of her horny teen cunt, remains vivid and fond.

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Chapter 7 >>

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