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A work of fiction. All characters over the age of 18.

***

Part 1

It was a glorious summer’s day. The type of blue-skied vista that made you want to head to the beach or lay on the grass and feel the warmth on your bare skin. I was inside, naturally. In a dark and humid room. The windows were closed. The curtains were drawn. Two fans were strategically placed to circulate cool air.

No, I was not a vampire. Merely an incest-crazed mother clenched in the euphoria of yet another orgasm. The sheets were drenched. I slipped across them as James drilled into me. It was an uncomfortable bed. But we were not there to sleep.

I raised my head to see the look of concentration on James’s face. The closed eyes and gritted teeth. As our lovemaking had progressed I teased him about it. I asked him if he was trying not to come or thinking about other women or wondering what we would be having for dinner after we rolled in from our latest session of fucking each other’s brains out. He always smiled and said nothing.

The bed creaked and shook. It banged into the dresser at the side. There was a glass of water on the dresser. I did not recall pouring it or drinking from it. It was like I had a form of retrograde amnesia when we were together. Only able to recall the taste of his tongue in my mouth. The slapping of his balls against my buttocks. The crash of our pelvises as he buried himself in me.

I watched the glass of water creep across the dresser. It jumped up with every thrust. There was something compelling about its tectonic progress to the edge. Each jump coincided with a burst of pleasure in my pussy. As if it had telekinetic powers and was manipulating it closer to the edge.

I knew the glass would fall over. It was inevitable. As inevitable as my building orgasm. As inevitable as the next one and the one after that. As inevitable as James splurging another swathe of cum into my cunt.

The heat in my pussy grew. It acted like a lit fuse on James. He growled and clawed at me harder. The vibrations reverberated across the room. It seemed everything was under the influence of his lust-fuelled pounding. We were all caught in his orbit. Unable to escape his irresistible pressure.

The more I studied him the more I felt like I was a voyeur. That I was not really present and watching this scene unfold in a dingy back street somewhere. But then something would bring me back. A touch, a taste, a smell and a sound. It would bring me back to our wonderful quorum.

My hips ached as he compressed them. My breasts jiggled and flopped. I had tied my hair up but it too was being shaken free. We poured with sweat. The heat generated by our flailing bodies overwhelmed the atmosphere of the room. The fans were fighting a losing battle.

James pushed my legs down further and squatted over me. He stabbed himself in deeper and I gasped. There was that wonderful moment of tangibility when the tip of his head met the edge of my cervix. When he reached the limit of my capacity to take him.

I turned and looked at my ankle bouncing on the mattress next to my ear. I never realised how much I missed this. Being held and contorted into positions. Being folded and tossed and pinned down. Being used. All to please my lover.

James slapped into me harder. My pussy sluiced and the juices splashed across my breasts and onto my stomach. I cooed up at him. I spoke calmly and softly though inside a tempest raged. He liked it better when I was still exuding a demeanour of motherly control.

So, I coaxed him formally. As though it was the second or third time I was asking him to fulfil a particular chore and the next request would not be so pleasant. I told him to fuck me harder. To fill me with his molten cum. To own me. I wanted to be his property. Concubine, mistress, demimonde, harlot. All conjoined within the quivering form of his mother.

It was remarkable how swiftly we had reached a sexual simpatico. How attuned our bodies were to each other. We instinctively knew when to be rough and when to be tender. For the first time I contemplated the possibility of reincarnation. That somewhere in a former life we had been great lovers.

He knew how to tease me with his tongue. How to work my nipples and clit with his hot mouth. He knew when to pull my hair and slap my buttocks. He knew how tightly to grip my throat as he fed me his length. I knew when to gag and when to widen my jaw to accommodate him further. I knew when to swallow and when to carry his load up to him so we could share his wonderful cum in our mouths. I knew when to surrender and let him reign over my body. I knew when to be his whore.

My body spasmed as another orgasm approached. I did not want to disentangle the knot of our loins. I wanted us to bask in this reflected heat. Let our sweat lubricate our bodies as we slid over one another. I heard a dull thud. The glass had finally fallen off the dresser. It was a wonder it had lasted this long.

James emitted a plaintive poker oyna cry and I knew he was close. I loved learning his sexual argot. The noises he made when he was on the cusp of cumming. The moans he let out as I slobbered along his shaft. The stunned gasp when he entered me for the first time. The echoing roar when he came and his penis jerked and sprayed inside me.

I let my visage slip and reverted to slut mode. I pulled him into me and screamed invective. Urging him to fuck his mother harder. To fuck her until she was nothing but a limp and twitching wreck. I wanted his cum. I needed his cum. The load he had deposited in me earlier was still there and I did not want it to get lonely.

James’s eyes widened as he heard me hurl filth at him. He let out a primal scream and shot a barrage of cum into me. It was like a chain reaction in my pussy. My orgasm exploded and I arched my back up to meet him at the apex of our ecstasy.

We fell to earth in a heap. For a long time the only noise was the drone of the fans.

I swept my eyes across the bedroom. It was a tableau of our barely-controlled desires and incessant incestuous humping. It was an orgiastic crime scene.

Clothes scattered in every direction. Sheets soaked in sweat and cum. Glassware toppled on the floor. A lamp wedged in between the wall and the dresser where we had knocked it off.

I did not want to clean it. I was employing the most basic defence of the teenage boy when confronted with a mess. I did not want to clean it because it would only get messy again.

James rolled over and asked for the water.

‘It’s on the floor,’ I answered. ‘You knocked it over.’

‘I knocked it over?’ he said incredulously. ‘I think you may have helped.’

‘Hey, I was just a spectator.’

‘Oh, really?’

‘Yes, really. Quite a show you put on. Just the right amount of showmanship. I would watch again.’

‘Well, it’s like Jurassic Park when the T-Rex enters the film. They can only tell it’s him because his thudding disturbs that glass of water. You don’t need to see him to know he’s there. It’s all about creating an illusion.’

‘Did you just compare your penis to a Tyrannosaurus Rex?’

‘Hey…they’re both predators you know. Both carnivores.’

‘Actually…I think I’m the carnivore in this relationship.’

I leaned over and kissed his sweat coated navel. I licked my way down to his cock. The head looked as raw as my pussy felt. I took it in my mouth delicately. It was tender and needed some TLC. James moaned and lifted his hips up. I straddled his legs and began working my way down his shaft.

He took my head in his hands. Not roughly but lovingly, sensuously. I applied the same care to his cock. I let my saliva run down the shaft as I focused on the head. James undid my hair and it cascaded down over his cock. He pulled it away to watch as I moved down his shaft.

I worshipped his cock. I gave praise to its length and heft. It’s scarcely believable girth. It’s inexhaustible stamina. The short refractory periods. The consistently heavy batches of cum it delivered. Yes, there was much to be thankful for. I bobbed my head as I prepared James for the next instalment of incest club.

Part 2

We had been using the bungalow for just over two weeks. I had not visited any of the other rooms yet. There may have been a secret tenant hidden somewhere that I did not know about. Eyes wide and jaw hanging open as they listened to our furious copulation.

I had booked the bungalow the night we got home from the flat. There didn’t seem to be any point in waiting really. We were firmly in agreement as to our plans for each other. The only uncertainty was in arranging the logistics. I let James pay the deposit using his incest expenses card. He joked that the only material thing he had provided so far in our relationship was his cum. I pointed out that I still paid for the cards so he silenced me with a kiss.

He was becoming bold. I liked it but was scared by the implications. I chided him and issued another reminder of the rules. No petting, foreplay, touching, kissing and definitely no penetration while Mark was still in the house with us.

He wandered off with a faraway look in his eyes. I heard his bedroom door slam and knew that he was stripping off to masturbate. That almost set me off so I stepped outside into the garden to chat with Mark.

James picked the keys up on the Thursday. I visited it with Mark the same night. Obviously not the property itself. We cycled past on our latest bike ride. It was the first time he let me choose the route so naturally I decided to plot the journey to the bungalow. I wanted him to unwittingly glide past the landmark of my betrayal.

It took 15 minutes at my leisurely pace. I imagined a lust-injected James could have managed the trip in under 10 minutes. Perhaps he could tow me. Like a can trailing the car of newlyweds, he would drag me to our haven of incest. He could carry me over the canlı poker oyna threshold, my tongue in his mouth. We would christen each room with our heaving bodies and our vows would be the lewd screams we exchanged as we reached climax.

I felt the excitement build as Mark and I got closer. Every bump and blister in the road seemed to send a shock up the bike and into my pussy. We turned into the quiet avenue of the bungalow. I sped up and overtook him. He tried to catch me.

We skated past the site of my planned fornication with our son and I cruelly turned to smile to him. He must have thought I was expressing my contentment at the time we were spending together rather than the truth. It was a smile of desire. Burning desire at the prospect of being fucked regularly by James.

It was a giddy thought and I took off, hurtling down narrow country paths and overgrown hiking trails. I knew I was running away from Mark and towards James, but I wanted the pursuit to be over. Both the pursuits. He caught up with me and I slowed to a halt and we laughed in between breaths.

I felt so unbelievably horny. In my sexual opportunism I forced Mark off his bike and into an isolated glade. I knelt and pulled his shorts down. My knees scraped against the rough earth. I sucked him off while I fingered myself and thought of James.

Imagining him there in the glade with me. His overwrought cock pushing my cheeks out as I thrashed furiously at my leaking cunt. I forgot myself as my head arced back and forth on Mark’s cock. This wasn’t the type of blowjob he was used to and he soon came with a leg-flopping bellow.

It was spontaneous but it served a purpose. It maintained the air of my desire for him. I had also relieved him without having to resort to sex. I did not want to have sex with him at home while James was close by. I wanted to spare my son’s jealousy.

I swallowed Mark’s dribble with a cough. It was as though my body recognised it was not James’s and was trying to reject it.

He staggered back to his bike and on the way back struggled to keep up with me.

My lycra was soaking when we arrived home. I messaged James to let him know.

He responded later to say he had gone to the garage to sniff and lick the seat. I imagined it was my pussy as I ground it over his willing tongue and face.

Our next opportunity arrived a couple of days later on the Saturday. Mark would be away for several hours at a golf social. It would be the longest time James and I had spent together. We watched rapt as he set off in the morning as though he was an astronaut being driven out to the rocket.

I set a fifteen minute timer before we could leave. I did not want to chance Mark turning around to collect something he had forgotten and returning to a suspiciously empty house.

We sat and kissed in the living room while we waited. I had let him pick my outfit. It was a professional, secretary type outfit. Silk blouse, pencil skirt, ostentatious belt and heels. He requested the pearls again. I knew there was something about this style that appealed to both of us. The insatiable sex fiend hidden under the frigid and cool ice queen.

We sprawled on the divan as we petted. There were too many layers. There was too much clothing and fabric barring us from the flesh we so desperately craved.

I imagined Mark sat across from us in his lounger tutting in disapproval as we tumbled across the furniture.

James was not subtle with his groping. These were my normal work clothes. I knew he was only a stray finger or nail from ripping or tearing the fabric in his excitement. I was going to have to buy separate clothes just to indulge his fantasies.

The alarm sounded quickly but just in time. I was not sure we could have waited any longer. He had sucked my neck and left a patch of flesh dangerously close to being a love bite.

A button on my blouse had been popped as he moved his hot breath over my breasts. I felt his fingers slip under my skirt trying to reach the warmness within.

We had to wait another ten minutes before James’s erection had subsided to a discreet enough level. Every time he thought it was under control I would bend over and push my straining cleavage out to him. He howled and went to the bathroom to escape my taunting.

We felt each other up in the car. I was one of those carefree and negligent motorists I had railed against during my bike ride. One eye on the road and the other assiduously charting the tented bulge in James’s trousers.

Our hands clashed over the gear stick as I reached out to stroke his cock and he reached out to rub my legs. It was only a short drive to the bungalow but it required all my powers of mental resilience to ensure we reached there in one piece.

To an impartial observer I’m sure it looked like I was a drunk driver. Swerving across the road, alternating between going too fast and too slow and braking clumsily. We were intoxicated on each other and had barely taken a sip internet casino so far.

The bungalow was circled with conifers at the back and a tall hedge at the front. We pulled into the driveway in anonymity but still stumbled flustered to the door. Putting on a forced show of sobriety on the off chance that anyone could see us.

James led me to the bedroom and removed my clothes. I showed off the negligee he had selected this time as he pawed at it. I couldn’t believe we had reached this point. Our own love-shack. The lease was for two months with the option to extend for longer. An entire summer together. We would likely rarely see the sun and probably acquire a vitamin D deficiency but none of that mattered. We were inseparable.

After we had swapped the first of many orgasms we held each other and listened to the birds outside.

‘Do you remember?’ he asked me.

‘Remember what?’ I asked from my pleasure-addled haze.

‘The plan. The rules. Saying we would stop if one of us decided that we wanted to?’

‘Oh.’

It rang a vague and distant bell. Had I really included a get out clause? How foolish. How myopic. There was no escape from this. For either of us.

‘Not really. Why?’

‘No…I just…you said that if one of us decided to stop then we just had to say and that would be it. We could go back to normal without any issues.’

I laid myself out on his chest.

‘What are you getting at James?’

‘Nothing. Just…I never want to stop.’

I smiled and took his face in my hands. We kissed and I reached for his cock. It was still early. I was not even close to the quota of orgasms I had set myself.

The two weeks passed in a happy and lust-filled blur. We surprised ourselves with our appetite for each other. Rather than waning it only seemed to increase. As though each new act of fornication was merely the precursor to an even more intense orgasm from the next one.

The first week we used the bungalow three times. By the second week we had relaxed our caution and were using it daily. It was necessary. Any longer than that and I started to experience withdrawal symptoms.

I found myself staring at James across the kitchen table, my body quizzical as to why we were not naked and indulging each other right at that very moment. He amassed a collection of my damp thongs and panties that I passed to him on the days when we could not fulfil our desperate needs.

We stopped off every evening after work. It was so close to home by car that most of the time we still had time to fuck madly, clean up and beat Mark back. It seemed a shame not to extract the maximum value from our outlay.

There was an old teak wardrobe in the bedroom. I filled it with racks and racks of lingerie. I would fuck James in one outfit and then afterwards we would browse online catalogues and stores together before placing the hurried orders for new outfits. As though they would be delivered just a few minutes later as we prepared for our latest copulation.

I changed the address for the incest card expenses to the bungalow. It was too early for the bill but in the second week we both received some correspondence from the company inviting us to increase our existing card limit. It was the horniest junk mail I had ever received.

Just the thought of this life with James. With our own place and identities and now our own mail. It was almost like official confirmation.

I grew sloppy. One time I was driving with Mark to buy groceries and absentmindedly headed in the direction of the bungalow. Another time I pulled out my incest expenses card to pay for lunch together before hurriedly slamming it back into my wallet and getting the right one.

It was James’s fault. I was in such a state of bliss that I had relaxed my normally stringent guard. I wondered if subconsciously I wanted Mark to find out. If the pretence could be dropped and we could come to an amicable arrangement.

‘Amicable’. I laughed at the very word. As though he would just accept his wife and son setting up in his house and fucking like rabbits while he jerked off in the room next to ours.

No, if he discovered the truth there was no possible way he would not be driven into at least some form of outrage and incandescence.

But still I formulated ideas. Scenarios and schemes for how I could ensure that I belonged to one master only. That my body would be used by one lord only. I had been engaging in my mad affair with James for three weeks now and my mind had been made up. My marriage was over.

Part 3

I purred as James delivered his cum into my mouth. I smoothed my hand over his shivering torso as he twitched the last strings of sperm down my throat. He gave an elongated gurn of pleasure.

I swallowed and savoured the taste on my lips and tongue. I kissed my way up to his face and lay over him. My breasts squashed up against his pecs. My dripping pussy splayed tantalising close to his deflating cock.

‘God, Mum.’

‘What?’ I brushed my hair away coquettishly.

‘Your blowjobs are amazing. I mean…you could go to the Olympics.’

I snorted and shifted over him. My pussy trailing juices over rippling stomach.

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