The Adams Family Melissa And Her Mom

Editor's note: this story contains scenes of incest or incest content.

*****

The Adams Family: Melissa and her Slut Mom.

Learning Not To Judge

Warning:

There are allusions to incest in this story, as well as massive promiscuity, and an out of control sexy MILF.

Caveat:

I've been told, by readers, that occasionally my stories should have been posted in the Humor Rubric. I don't write them with the intention of being funny, but it's part of who I am, that they turn out that way. This is one of those stories: It was not written to be funny, but you may well find some funny parts in it. In any event, I hope that it's an enjoyable read!

**

The drive to Melissa's parents' home, from my parents' home, is a long drive. My family lives in the East Bay region, through the hills and beyond the reach of the famous San Francisco fog, and Melissa's family lives down the peninsula, near the San Francisco airport, but up in the hills. Hillsborough is the town they live in, and it's the closest town to the city that does not get the morning and evening fog. It's a fancy region, and always has been.

I was home from college for the summer, and I had a rather intense summer job. Since I got free room and board, plus the use of a car, from my parents, I was able to pocket all the money I earned working at the UC, Berkeley, Computer Center. I spent most of the money on my girlfriend Melissa, and trust me, she was worth every penny!

In theory the drive is one and a half hours, at 65 to 70mph, and without traffic, but there's always traffic. In practice, it takes two to three hours, depending on the time of day. I allowed for it to take two and a half hours, so I got there early. When that happens, Melissa is usually still getting dressed for a night out with her boyfriend, i.e., me, and I find it's worth the wait, because recently she's been dressing like a hot firecracker. Sometimes Melissa can be a sexual tease par excellence.

I like being teased all evening, if I know Melissa is going to make good on the teasing with some rambunctious sex when I take her home, and being Melissa, she always does. An added bonus is the looks on the faces of the other men who see my hot-to-trot sexpot, envy me deeply, and do not try to hide it. I love it. As for Melissa herself, the girl loves sex. There's nobody like her, anywhere, except of course for my East Coast main squeeze, namely Joanie H.

I was not surprised, therefore, when Melissa's Mom, Mrs. Adams, and not Melissa herself, opened the door and invited me in. However, right away I could tell from her face that something was wrong; just what, exactly, I didn't know. Melissa's Dad traveled a lot for his job; could he have been in an accident, or acquired the dreaded Delta Variant of Covid-19? I hoped he was okay.

"Hello, Philip. You're here for Melissa, of course," she said.

"Yes, and I'm early. Probably she's not ready; I don't mind waiting." I figured if there was bad news, Melissa's Mom would share it, in good time, if she wanted to share it.

"Please come in. I guess it was a long drive. Would you like a drink?" Mrs. Adams asked.

Once Melissa and I had become sexual, Mrs. Adams had suggested I spend the nights when I dated Melissa, due to the long drive home, late at night, after I had enjoyed Melissa the way young men tend to enjoy young women. She was worried I'd not be sharp, being tired and drained of my precious bodily fluids, as Commander Jack D. Ripper called them in the iconic movie

Dr. Strangelove

.

Mrs. Adams must have known, and not cared, I suppose, that Melissa and I fucked our brains out when I spent the night. Their house was built on a hill, with the garage and Melissa's, and her brother's bedrooms, and a shower, sink, and toilet on the bottom floor, and with the rest of the house and the back patio being upstairs. In theory I slept in her brother's old bedroom (he had moved out of the house already), but in practice I shared Melissa's bed.

I idly wondered if her brother, before me, and had also shared Melissa's bed. The set-up was perfect for that kind of thing. All he'd need to do was to get out of bed, walk around ten steps, and get into bed with the sexpot that was his sister. What a nasty thought to have! I was ashamed of myself, but sometimes, I guess, my mind wanders around in the gutter. I shivered at my nasty mind, and put those thoughts out of my head. Her brother now had his own place, thank goodness, and he worked in Silicon Valley, raking in the dough.

I learned much later Melissa's brother had come out: He was not just gay, but he was rather flamingly gay. So much for my incest theory. I still clung to it, however, since a lot of gay men start out as bisexual, due to the pressure of society to conform, or so I'm told.

Nevertheless, maybe at one point, early on in their lives, Melissa and her brother got it on together? They really had the perfect set up for some illicit, downstairs, hanky-panky. Melissa's fellatio technique is fantastic, and maybe it was her brother who showed her the pleasures of anal sex? Somebody did, after all! I enjoyed anal sex with Melissa from time to time, especially when she was on the rag, but I sure as hell was not the first to introduce her to that particular perversion.

Melissa's Mom had been worried for my safety, since I lived over an hour's drive away, and after a long evening with Melissa, she was worried I'd get in an accident on the way back home. If that happened she would not be able to forgive herself; this led to her offer to let me use her son's bedroom, since he had already moved out of the family home. As I said, the situation was perfect for hanky-panky, and Melissa was seriously lacking in the morals department, a quality I enjoyed to the max.

Mrs. Adams gave me a beer, and after I had taken a few sips, she said, "I think Melissa must have gotten confused about the day of your rendezvous. I'm afraid she's not here."

"Running late, as usual?" I asked, smiling.

"Uh... no. She's out on a date," Mrs. Adams said.

"Playing tennis?" I asked. I could help her in the shower before our date, I thought, still smiling. Melissa is a bit of a tennis fanatic. I beat her, every time, nonetheless.

"No. I'm afraid she's out with her local boyfriend, Ryan. I'm not sure if she will come home tonight or not," Mrs. Adams said. That threw me for a loop. It threw me for quite a big loop. We're talking loops-de-loops.

When I started college across the country, at Yale, and Melissa began at UC, Santa Cruz, we had agreed that we could date other people, since our love was strong enough to survive that, and we wouldn't be around to entertain each other. There're movies to see, parties to go, tennis to be played, and the like, and with Melissa's looks and bubbly personality, she'd never have trouble finding a man to entertain her.

I guess Melissa had taken that agreement to heart, since she had a local boyfriend with whom she apparently often spent the night. I didn't think our agreement covered sex with other men, especially sex in the Biblical sense, but apparently, in Melissa's mind, it did. To say the wind was knocked out of my sails was a gross understatement.

Mrs. Adams saw my face, as I said to her, stammering it out, that I'd better be going then. My face is often transparent, and she would have had to be blind not to see I was, shall we say, upset. My whole world had just collapsed under my feet,

"Why don't you stay for dinner, at least? My husband is at a conference in France, and I'd be charmed to have your company at dinner. Melissa says wonderful things about you, all the time. She really is taken with you, you know."

"So I had thought," I said. I couldn't hide the bitterness in my voice.

"Look, you know about Melissa's sex drive. I'm the same way, I'm afraid. Ryan just helps out when you're not around, which is, after all, most of the time," Mrs. Adams said. Her remark did not help my mood.

Yes, I knew Melissa was highly sexed, but somehow, I thought all that her oversized sex drive meant is that we had rip-roaring times when we were together. I had no idea that she "needed" local supplements to feed her cravings. When we agreed to date around a bit, I did not realize what Melissa would do with that agreement!

"You are the man she loves," Mrs. Adams said.

"Is that a fact," I said, with a sardonic edge to my voice.

"Yes. Yes, it is. We're quite close, Melissa and I, and we talk all the time. I know more than you might think I do. Melissa will be devastated to have missed you. Look, she will be back by early tomorrow afternoon, so maybe you could spend the night, in any event, and then give her a wonderful surprise, just by your handsome presence, when she comes home?" Mrs. Adams, trying to be cheerful, offered up.

"Why don't we call her, and tell her I'm here?" I suggested, extracting my cell phone. I rang her, and heard her distinctive cell phone ring coming from the other room.

"She forgot her cell phone, I'm afraid," Mrs. Adams said. That was so Melissa. Smart, sexy as hell, pretty, a bubbly personality, and scatterbrained. "I think you should stay. Melissa will be inconsolable if you leave, and she will now know that you know what she's been up to with Ryan and his friends."

Right. Sure, she'll be upset not to find me when she comes home chock full of Ryan's cum. I'd never had sloppy seconds, at least that I knew about, and I wasn't about to start now! As if she read my mind, Mrs. Adams helpingly added,

"Melissa always returns freshly showered, and once she realizes you're here, I'm sure she'll excuse herself and douche right away for you, as well. At least stay for dinner. I don't enjoy eating alone."

"Did you earlier say, 'Ryan and his friends,'? Is Melissa into group sex, threesomes, or gangbangs?" I asked, thinking I'd get reassurance of the kind where Mrs. Adams would say of course not, how could I even think such a thing? It's an inappropriate question to ask the mother of your girlfriend, but at this point I was freaked out, and losing it.

Instead, Mrs. Adams said, "I didn't mean to imply that. Ryan and Melissa like to hang out with a group. They all do things together. It's been that way since junior high school. Anyway, I'm sure you will want to discuss such things as group sex or gangbangs directly with Melissa, and not with me. I don't do such things, and I doubt Melissa does."

Now I was truly stunned. How stupid was Mrs. Adams? Did she not realize she was telling me, in easily discernible code, that my sweet Melissa is a slut into gangbangs, or threesomes, or whatever? Wasn't it bad enough she's spending the night with Ryan? Was this my sweet, little, adoring, loving, Melissa we were discussing? Had she been fucking Ryan and maybe his friends since junior high school? She had always told me that I was her one and only.

Now I was thinking: Fat chance.

I think I was in shock. Mrs. Adams offered me a Scotch whisky on the rocks, and I gratefully took it, even if I had only just turned twenty, and was a full year away from reaching the golden age of 21. Nevertheless, there's a lot of drinking that goes on in college, regardless of one's age. She knew I needed a drink, a good strong drink. I was reeling from all this news about my true love.

Mrs. Adams left me alone with a second glass of Scotch whisky, and the

San Francisco Chronicle

, while she went to the kitchen to prepare dinner. I desultorily stared at the newspaper, unable to read even a single paragraph. I snuck off to Melissa's bedroom and found her phone. She used it often enough when we were together that I had seen her punch in her secret code. I unlocked her phone and went directly to her pictures.

Melissa had taken quite a few pictures of me, including one of me naked from the waist up, and she had added the comment "Ripped!" underneath it. I smiled at that. That picture had a heart on it, meaning it was a favorite. I went to her favorites to speed things up. About half the favorites were pictures with me in them, and my favorite of those was a selfie of the two of us almost naked. Pasties over her nipples, and a thong, stood between Melissa and complete nudity. Melissa has such gorgeous boobs.

Then it all turned to shit. There was a slew of pictures involving another guy, whom I assumed was Ryan. Some of the pictures with Melissa and Ryan in them were not selfies. The most disturbing ones were of the two of them, Melissa and Ryan, both half-dressed and smiling at the photographer. There was one in particular, with a topless Melissa in between two fully clothed guys, one of them being Ryan and the other being, well, I had no idea. I'll call him Stud. (I later found out his name is Sam.) Melissa had her dazzling smile on, above her naked boobs. No, she had not included pasties for that picture.

There were erotic pictures of Melissa with a girl I didn't know, too. I'll call her Trampie. Trampie was wearing panties only. Another had Melissa and Trampie kissing, but both of them were clothed. It seemed clear to me that Ryan did not completely solve Melissa's erotic "cravings." Trampie seemed to have a possibly quite active role to play, too. I had never even suspected Melissa was bisexual!

I got an erection from the girl-on-girl pictures, which also were not selfies, and at that moment Mrs. Adams called me to dinner. I quickly restored Melissa's phone to the way it had been. I had not even perused her texts, yet!

Dinner was delicious. I don't know what Mrs. Adams did to the steak, but it was among the best steaks I had ever had the pleasure to eat! Maybe she had sprinkled it with cocaine? We had roast potatoes and steamed broccoli with the steak. Mrs. Adams, who asked me to call her by her given name, June, (no, her names is not Morticia) served a delicious California pinot noir with dinner, and I drank more than half the bottle. June drank the rest. Put that together with the two whiskies, and I was in no condition to drive anywhere, let alone the long drive to home.

I was surprised that not only had June prepared a wonderful meal, she had also sneaked off, apparently, and changed her clothes. All this, making dinner and changing clothes, while I had been freaking out over the pictures on Melissa's iPhone. I had never realized before, nor had I even bothered to look, but June was a MILF of the first order. Her clothes accentuated her hourglass figure, and her lowcut dress showed off her delectable boobs, revealing almost half of each boob, although of course not the areolas nor nipples. She had also applied some kind of perfume, a different scent than Melissa uses, and it was deadly. If she weren't Melissa's own mother, I would have thought she was dressing to seduce me.

"That was a wonderful meal. Thank you. Moreover, it was made all the more enjoyable by looking at you. You're even prettier than Melissa!" I blurted out, in a burst of drunken stupidity.

"Thank you, Philip. It's very kind of you to say that. However, please do not compare me with my daughter. That's not healthy," June said.

"Sorry," I said.

"Do you like this dress on me?" June asked.

"You look ravishing in it, June," I replied.

"Oh, good. I 'borrowed' it from Melissa. We're the same size, you know," she said.

"Melissa wears dresses like that one?" I asked. "She's never worn such a dress for me."

"Oh yes, she has a closet full of them. I suppose she never felt she needed to seduce you. She tells me you get hard for her when she says hello," June said, a mischievous smile crossing her face. Melissa says such things to her mother? Whoa.

"So, she only wears these gorgeous dresses when she wants to seduce other men?" I said, then added, "Or women?" I was also thinking, why is June wearing it? Who does she want to seduce? There's nobody here but me. Oh. Holy shit, really? Also, just who is Melissa going about seducing?

"Oh no, I didn't mean it to sound that way. Oh my, my language is much too sloppy this evening. I'm afraid I might be drunk. I'm so sorry, Philip," June said.

"I guess Melissa and I need to talk," I said.

"That might be wise. It's always a good idea to clear the air. Now let me show you where you can sleep tonight," June said.

"I can just take Melissa's brother's room, as usual," I said.

"I know you never sleep there," June said, her eyes twinkling. "His bed is always untouched, and Melissa's bed is a total wreck after one of your visits. I'm not a rocket scientist, but I'm a mother, and I'm not an idiot."

"There's a first time for everything," I said. I think I might have been blushing. Apparently, Melissa made no effort to hide our sexual activities from her mom.

"You should sleep upstairs. There's a chance Melissa will bring Ryan or his friends home tonight, and I'm sure you do not want get in the middle of that. Also, as you know, sometimes Melissa can be noisy when she's, when she's,...uh...."

"Having sex?" I offered.

"Enjoying herself, I wanted to say," June said. "It'd be much better if you slept up here, on the same level as me. Sometimes when Melissa brings a few boys home, and my husband is away, one of them wanders upstairs and finds me. Usually the guy is in, shall we say, an amorous state, and he is looking for an outlet for his affections. Of course, I refuse, and things can get ugly. If that were to happen tonight, well, I'd feel safer if you were to be up here with me," she said, further rocking my world.

"You partake in group sex with Melissa and her friends?" I asked, unable to hide the incredulity in my voice. I wonder if the boys take her against her will? Or is it all play acting?

"I didn't mean to imply that, Philip. Just sleep up here, with me, and forget about all the rest, okay?" June replied. I noticed she did not outright deny, or express indignation, at the suggestion that she had group sex with Melissa's 'friends.'

"Sleep with you?" I asked. I was sure a house that nice had to have a guest bedroom. I no longer knew what the fuck Mrs. Adams meant. It was only after seeing the pictures on Melissa's iPhone that grounded me enough in the horrific reality of it all, that, at this point, gave me any idea of how to decode the confusing implications of June's language.

"Well, it's a king-sized bed. You'd have your side, and I'd have mine. We could even put a sham and pillow wall in between us. No worries, Philip," she said. Then she added, "I do get so lonely when Hank is on one of his trips. He has a floozy in Paris to take care of his needs there, you know. He has one in Japan as well. I'm unsure about Singapore."

"No, I didn't know," I said. Who

was

this family?

"Oh yes, I'm surprised Melissa never told you more about her father's peccadillos. I'm lucky to have him, but I wish he were more faithful. His French floozy, with the perfect name Marie-France, is so very pretty, too. It's all just most unfortunate," June said.

Upon a few moments' reflection, she added, "Melissa never told you about the extraordinary sexual drive of both of her parents?" June asked. Things were getting more and more obvious. Frightening, actually.

"There seems to be quite a lot Melissa never saw fit to discuss with me," I said, as I followed June to her bedroom. Her bedroom had a mirror on the ceiling, of all places. I had been surprised a bit too many times at this point.

"Melissa is a loving daughter. I have needs, Philip, but I'm a respectable married woman. I'm not about to go to bars to get picked up when Hank is on one of his many trips, coupling with one of his international floozies. Melissa sometimes helps me out. You do know she is bisexual, right?"

"No, not before tonight," I said. I immediately had an image of Melissa wearing a strap-on and fucking her mother with it. That explained, as if it needed to be explained at this point, all the pictures of Trampie, whose actual name, I later learned, is Annie.