The House

John was up early the next morning. He carefully hid the torn bra that had covered his girlfriend’s small but sexually sensitive tits. Strange that he accepted the forty seven year old Phoebe as his girl, but by god she was an unbelievable firecracker in bed. He still didn’t know she had come to his bed a virgin. He gave the house the once over finding the towels the girls had used. They smelled strongly of young pussy. The thought hardened him but he was confident Phoebe would look after his needs. He suddenly realized he didn’t know whether he had a washer and dryer or not. He searched for a doorway to the basement stairs, shocked at how little he still knew about the house. He finally found it beside the door to the pantry in the kitchen, close to the back door. Again, he was to be pleasantly surprised for he found several washing machines in good order and two large industrial sized dryers. Not only were there machines, but also a large roller iron that would make it easy to iron his linens. Once again he thanked his good fortune that he had bought the old place, especially when he found it so well equipped. The house purred in its contentment rattling a pipe, the only way it could purr. John wondered if the plumbing problems were going to be the problem, but although he was to hear the pipes many more times particularly at night, he never did have to call a plumber for that particular problem. After he threw the towels in a washing machine he raced upstairs to continue his once around. He was extremely pleased at how clean the old place was, the ladies had done a wonderful job.

It was a shame that it would soon be dirty again, because as soon as his mother saw how good a housekeeper he was, he planned to start tearing down the multiple bedroom walls on the third floor. It always struck him strange how as a grown man he still felt he had to measure up to her standards of excellence. He shrugged his shoulders, realizing it didn’t really matter, he simply catered to her wishes because he loved her so. Although he often grumbled to himself that she was an interfering, nosy, female, in truth he was looking forward to seeing her again as always. Finally, she arrived, and as he let her in the door, he noticed the new black Mercedes parked out front. Grandpa had been looking after her again. His father had been an only child and after his death in one of the inevitable wars the country seemed to embroil itself in, his parents had doted on their grandchildren. Extremely wealthy they saw to it that their son’s family lacked nothing sending him and his siblings to the finest schools in the country. Grandpa had a way of demanding excellence and did not tolerate less than the best endeavors scholastically.

He noticed his mother was as beautiful as ever, the musky scent of expensive perfume in his nostrils as he bent to kiss her check. He suddenly had the urge to grab her by her succulent ass and grind her pelvis against his own. He resisted the almost overpowering urge but the kiss slide along her check to the corner of her mouth, lasting far longer than propriety allowed. She let out a little embarrassed laugh and said, “You must have really missed me, John.” He saw a look in her eye that belied the laugh, a look he had never seen before. He stepped back from her hoping she would not notice the bulge in his trousers. God it was embarrassing. He wanted to mate with his own mother, now, on the floor if necessary. Tear the expensive pantsuit she wore off her body and mate. He controlled himself and led her deeper into the house assuming that it was the state of arousal that Phoebe seemed to be able to keep him in that had transferred itself to the first good looking female who walked in the door. God he needed Phoebe!

His mother on the other hand had no such excuse. The moment she had stepped through the door into his arms her pussy creamed, signaling its preparedness to mate. She had almost thrust her loins against his, seeking his response. Surely, it wasn’t because he was single again. Maybe the divorce, which she had felt so badly about, had matured him in such away that it had made him sexually attractive. She knew that both he and his brother Brian looked a lot like their dad, but it had never elicited such a primal reaction from her body before. This was her son for god sakes and here she wanted to spread her legs like some common strumpet. Her nipples erected at her thoughts, she shook her head, unnerved by the almost overwhelming compulsion to screw, to fuck. Normally she wouldn’t even think in those terms, but now her body was in totally sexual rebellion. “Son, will you get my bags out of the car please?” She needed a moment away from him to compose herself, regain control of her emotions. She really wanted to see the old house that her son was talking so excitedly about, so when he returned with bags in hand, she told him to set them in the foyer maintaining self-control over her libidinous body.

They began to go through the house together; both needed to constantly exercise self-control. A woman of taste she saw in the main floor the potential of the home that her architect son had seen. When it was built, it had been trimmed as a showpiece with beautiful wood oak trim throughout. The row of oak balusters topped by the curving hand-carved rail as it wound its way to the second floor incredible. The cost to replace the oak alone would be hundred’s of thousands and when she heard the price he had paid for it her sense of pride in him almost overcame her self-control. She really needed to get a grip she felt. She thought the kitchen was beautiful, although a bit opulent for everyday needs. The dinning room was magnificent, just waiting for the dinning room suite that she would help him pick out. He grabbed her bags and led her to the second floor. Here it was more austere, almost business like, with the many doors leading off the hall to bedrooms and bathrooms. He showed her the little washrooms and a few of the bedrooms with his newly purchased beds and asked which one she would like. She chose one that was beside a bathroom, where he set her bags. She couldn’t help but wonder how many women had plied their profession in it, causing her great sexual stress as her mind unbidden thought of multiple pussies, open wide, filled with thrusting male shafts. She sat on the bed, testing its softness, when she noticed a strange, not unpleasant smell, which seemed to pervade the room. She felt her sex demand attention, ache with need, as it oozed more exudate into her panties. She looked up at her son and asked, “What is that smell?”

“I don’t know. I’ve opened all the windows, cleaned like crazy, used strong smelling cleaners, all for naught,” he replied. “It’s unique to the house and to be honest I’ve grown to like it.”

She noticed the bulge in his pants as he spoke and wanted to reach out, grab it, pull it from the restraining trousers, and force it to service her in the urgency of her need. Suddenly he whirled and left the room, separating himself from her, before the stimulus of seeing her on the bed, compelled him to an act that he was sure she would condemn him for, for the rest of his life. The separation helped them both and with renewed determination of self-control, they continued to examine the house together. She was surprised by the size of the bathroom hidden behind the door marked private, but was happy to see the showers having wondered where she would bathe. “There’s an old cast iron clawed tub on the third floor if you’d prefer. Come on I’ll show it to you.” He grabbed her hand; her pussy tingled, sending erotic sensation through her belly and thighs. He dropped her hand as though it had burned him and in a sexual sense it had. Sexually frustrated, he led her up to the third floor and showed her the beautiful old tub with the lions feet, so large she was sure two lovers could easily find room to bathe within it confines. Uncontrollable thoughts of her son’s naked body holding her own nakedness spun wickedly through her mind; as she felt in her mind, the warmth of bath water, his soapy hands, and the heat of her arousal. John left her abruptly once again, his own imagination working overtime, causing his balls to ache as they produced sperm in massive amounts, sure that they would soon be called on to fertilize. He called from the hallway as he adjusted his pole like cock to a more comfortable position, “Come and see the new bed I bought the other day.”

She followed him down the hall to the back bedroom noticing once again the pleasantly strange scent that filled the air around her. It truly was a magnificent four-poster and she wanted to drag her son into it and taste his flesh. He looked at his mother with lust-filled eyes. He wanted her to monkey fuck him like Phoebe had, climb his body and monkey fuck. He could almost feel his mother’s cunt sliding up and down his cock as his mind mentally transposed the memory of Phoebe’s hairy wetness to the current situation. In a moment of lucidness, he managed to glance at his watch remembering he had invited Phoebe and Cynthia to meet his mom. Using them as and excuse to separate himself, the only thing that seemed to work, he almost shouted at his mother as he left the room, “Look around mom, I’m going downstairs to make some sandwiches and put the coffee on. I’m expecting some company in about an hour, two ladies I would like you to meet.” With that he was gone leaving behind a woman so aroused she looked for something to rub herself against.

Taking a bedpost in her hands she began to slide her pant clad pussy up and down it like a stripper did to a pole she had seen in a movie once. Her hands grasping the post above her head, her twat humped hard against it sliding up and down. Her knees spread wide to accommodate the corner of the bed. Her clitoris straining to be stimulated now pressed hard against the unyielding post. Her mouth also pressed hard against it, as though she were kissing her son. Her straining ass, heaving and humping, as she partially squatted, tore the seat out of her pants exposing her bare buttocks and the thin string of her thong. Nothing stopped her and her moans filled the air. Perspiration formed on her forehead and between her pretty tits. She felt her orgasm build in her womb as she tried to satiate the overwhelming need she felt for her son. Oh god if only there wasn’t a strong taboo not to touch her son, she’d fuck his brains out. Although she didn’t realize it, with that admission she took one step closer to overcoming her inhibitions. Finally, the inanimate post brought on her pleasure and she fell to the floor withering in ecstasy moaning out her exaltation.

The house creaked in frustration. It couldn’t understand. It could feel the vibes of deep love these two held for each other. Why didn’t they conjoin in procreation, the finest symbol of life giving love? Why did its owner not pay homage to the sheath that had given him life. Why did he not bring pleasure to his place of birth with his mouth and tongue? Why didn’t he reward her with his tool of love? Why didn’t she accept his body returned to hers, after all he was conceived in a similar act? The house felt he would just be returning the favor. Well, with a little more effort it felt it would bring about a wondrous conjoining.

She gathered herself and ran down to the second floor bedroom where her son had place her suitcases to find a new outfit to wear. Only partially satiated she steeled herself, while she straightened her hair and reapplied her lipstick, to behave properly in front of him. She had never experienced such deep desire before, for anyone, much less her son. Her intense behavior, in his bedroom, was well beyond anything in her sexual experience. She did have sexual experience.

She remembered a time when her children were young and she had grown restless. Her father-in-law had noticed and asked if she wanted another husband. With tears in her eyes she had vehemently denied that any such thing had crossed her mind. He had believed her, and being a man of the world, recognized her problem. She was simply sexually frustrated, so with his tact approval he sent her on a sea voyage, literally a love boat, for a month while he and her mother-in-law looked after her five children. To be blunt she had fucked her way around the boat enjoying the physical contact without all the emotions that came with commitment. She had finally ended up in the bed of a newly married couple enjoying their ministrations for the balance of the voyage. She had developed a taste for his cock after he had fucked his bride and the bride had returned the favor by draining her pussy of the groom’s cum with her tongue. She had worried at the time that she might be responsible for future problems in their marriage but it was not the case. They had kept in touch after the voyage, often inviting her across the country to their home. It was just a year ago, she remembered with fondness chuckling to herself, that she had heard Martha’s words.

“Fuck her good you wimp,” Martha had cajoled, “she didn’t come all this way for you to do a poor job.”

It had fired her husband to even greater efforts and he had pounded her pussy sore. She didn’t mind however, because Martha’s tender mouth had been so soothing she had wanted it pounded again, just to feel that mouth and tongue once more. But enough of reminiscing she had to face her son.

Checking her face in the mirror and smoothing the dress over her hips and thighs with soft hands she went downstairs to help him. He was busy cutting off the crusts of a pile of sandwiches sitting on the butcher block. He asked her to set the small table, which she did, happy to be kept busy. Setting out cups and saucers, bread and butter plates and a large bowl of pickles that she had found waiting in the large double door stainless steel frig. He watched his mother’s beautiful ass move beneath her dress, wondering why she had changed. He wanted to lift the hem of the dress and fondle what he knew to be beneath it. Had he known how hot and wet it was he probably would have. He hoped Phoebe would get there soon. Just then the doorbell rang bringing a momentary sense of relief to his horny soul. While his mother scurried about the kitchen putting out serviettes, he went to the door to find Cynthia and Phoebe dressed to the nines. Cynthia, for an almost sixty year old was just plain looking sexy, dressed with taste revealing little, but oh the way it concealed. Phoebe wore a lovely dress, but looked as virginal as ever. Her uplift demi-bra made her breasts poke against the front of her dress. But other than that nothing revealed that she stood there without panties on, a trick that she noticed Cynthia had pulled yesterday.

He invited them in and as they crossed the threshold, their pussies ached with need. They were already wet having anticipated the possible need as they saw their lover of yesterday once again. He led them into the kitchen as further licentious thoughts of his body filled their minds. John introduced them to his mother. “Mother these are my good friends Phoebe and Cynthia, girls my mother Jane.” At least now, he was distracted and able to get his mind of his mother focusing instead on the two women he had enjoyed yesterday. His mother on the other hand had no such distraction and she watched her son as they all made light conversation. She had been surprised that the women where in her age group. Phoebe somewhat younger, Cynthia slightly older. She didn’t know it but she fell exactly in the middle, six years junior of the one, six years senior of the other. She soon noticed how they behaved around one another and worried as to whether these two women were her son’s lovers. Then she admitted to herself it wasn’t worry that consumed her, but jealousy. Two women her own age loved him. Maybe she had instinctively realized her son needed a mature woman, after the fiasco with the young hussy that had divorced him. He remained her son, untouchable in the eyes of many.

She decided she would make sure these two women were never alone with her son, realizing how mean spirited she was being. Her plans fell apart, when Cynthia engaged her in conversation. Phoebe and John disappeared and Cynthia talked and talked literally holding her to the table with her words. Once she got up to follow, but Cynthia put her hand on her arm and brought her attention back to her, so that politeness required her to sit back down.

John took Phoebe upstairs and into one of the small bathrooms so that he could lock the door. As soon as the door was locked Phoebe was kissing him passionately, her arms around his neck her legs lifting to grip his hips between them.

“Oh god one minute.” he said, fumbling at his belt. “Wait till I get my pants off.”

He allowed his pants to drop then shoved his underwear to his knees. She could wait no longer and brought her legs up around him slathering his abdomen with her excretions searching with her cunt for his cock. He grabbed her ass lifting her higher and she reached between them and centered him glad she had left her panties at home. Her hairy pussy surrounded his dick and she pumped up and down all she could. It wasn’t enough and he pushed her back against the door steadying her for his onslaught. As soon as she was supported, he began pistoning into her striving for deeper and deeper penetration with each heave of his body. The lust his mother had inspired in him pounding into Phoebe’s cunt. Her ass banged against the door. She began to cry out her joy, then realizing her noise may be heard, bite into his shoulder bringing the taste of blood. She thought she should tell him she was sorry, but she wasn’t, she just didn’t want him to stop. He wouldn’t have known what she was talking about anyways, having not felt a thing, his cock the centre of his existence. Suddenly he spewed the load that he had been building all day bringing her orgasm on with the rush of creamy warmth that seemed to fill her more than ever before. She screamed, her voice resonating amongst the walls of the small bathroom. Pipes rattled in the basement.

Cynthia blushed hearing the commotion, knowing what they had gone to do. His mother unsure, hearing a faint scream, but at the same time a rattle of pipes in the basement distracted her and she was unsure of what she had heard. A few minutes later, her son and Phoebe reappeared. Phoebe announced it was time to go, now satiated a little disconcerted that she was standing in front of his mom with his cum running down her legs. John and his mom walked them to the door and with polite goodbyes ushered them out. As soon as the door closed Phoebe turned to her friend and said, “Thank you for helping me Cynthia, I won’t forget it.”

“You certainly won’t,” Cynthia replied. “As soon as I get you home I’m going to taste that well fucked pussy of yours.”

The house was pleased with the joy it had brought its owner collecting their pheromones once again. Now it turned it attention to mother and son, it felt sure it could develop one of the finest acts of procreation it had ever enjoyed. The strength of the love between the two precluded nothing else. The house was determined!