Standing here afterwards is a rather unique experience. They say that hindsight is 20/20. Well, based on what just happened, I don’t know that I could easily agree with that statement. Nonetheless, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it. I had no idea that their pussies could feel so much alike. Not to mention the technique. You’d swear she taught her specifically how to please a man. No way though, not possible.
As I stare down the long driveway, I wait in anticipation, unmatched by any I have felt before. Not in a good way either. Like many a western films, the good guy will stand in the middle of main street waiting for a cloud of dust symbolizing the bad guy coming. I awaited that cloud of dust, signaling a showdown with Sara. I had to tell her. She will be so pissed at me over this and I pray that she can forgive me. I don’t see how though. How is it possible that she could forgive me for having sex with her mother? With my soon to be mother-in-law for that matter. My Goddess, I called her MOM while shooting my hot cum all over her face. Is this ecstasy or insanity?
It’s not long before I hear the rumbling of a truck engine coming up the driveway. The minute she was in sight, my eyes didn’t leave hers. She had to have been able to seen the look of utter despair on my face. Sara and I have had such a connection since moment one of meeting each other. She can look beyond my eyes, into my soul and tell that I feel as if something has died. Ronny parked the truck, and grabbed the groceries from the store, and began to walk in the house.
I was sweating profusely and felt like a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. My eyes haven’t left hers for one second. As she came up the steps, she could see it. I know she knew. I just know it. As I opened my mouth to speak the words, and all I felt like was being sick, and a lump in my throat that felt like El Capitan.
“Sara, we need to talk.” I said in a humbled and quiet voice.
“Not now Matthew, we need to start dinner.”
“This is important though. You NEED to know this.”
“Honey, trust me, it can wait.”
It can wait??? What was she saying? I was about to tell her something that would most likely have me walking home. And I’m from Nebraska! The outrage of this is unreal. The continued suffering I am being forced to go through. My having sex with her mom has taken a backseat to store bought catfish. How in the hell could she see fit to put me through this?
I sat on the deck, smoking one cigarette after another, until she came out and told me dinner was ready. I couldn’t move. There was nothing left in body but remorse and anguish. The other side of that coin is a cock that is coated with her mom’s saliva from a blowjob that is only matched by her daughter. Something I would most likely never experience again. Sara walked up behind me and wrapped her arms around me started kissing my neck slow and soft. OH GODS that’s my kryptonite. Well, that and catfish.
“Honey, dinner is ready, let’s go eat.”
“Baby, please, I need to talk to you.”
“Trust me Matthew, it can wait.”
She pulled me up out of the chair and dragged me to the table. I sat down to the plate prepared for me. I just sat and stared at it, catfish, fresh corn on the cob, and fresh peaches. Gina looked me in the eye for what felt like forever. This was unimaginable.
“Aren’t you hungry?” she said in her coy southern tone.
There was no way I could make the volume of sarcastic comments running through my head. I sat there and forced down dinner. It took all I had not to be sick from the feelings running through me. I hated myself for being there, and I hated Sara for making me wait to tell her that I’ve destroyed the bond we made together. I finished my dinner, excused myself and went into our room and lay on the bed with my head facing the wall. I just wanted to curl up and die.
I couldn’t begin to judge the passage of time. Every moment felt like an eternity of betrayal. I couldn’t stand this anymore. I’m going to march out to the table and tell her right there in front of everyone. This can’t wait any long. Besides, if I go down, at least I will go down in a blaze of glory. Not to mention, it’s not as long of a walk home from her mom’s as it is from our house. Maybe I’ll have a bit of a head start.
Just as I rolled over, I heard footsteps in the hall. Now I didn’t want to move. A wave of fear crashed over me that had me frozen where I lay. I wanted to do this, and now I don’t. A million things running through my mind and now I don’t know where any of them are taking me. I hear the handle of the door being turned, and I’m just lying there. Sara walks in the room and sits on the edge of the bed next to me, placing one arm around me, and starts rubbing my back.
“Now, what was it you wanted to talk about?”
I’m frozen in a gaze of emptiness. Empty, but full of everything that marks the end of the world. An orchestra of trumpets blaring the 7 plagues of Revelations exploded in harmony being led by the pounding of my heart.
“First off, I want to say that I am sorry. I Love you with all my heart and soul and can’t begin to think how this could affect you. I want you to know that I will do ANYTHING to try and make this better for you.”
“Matthew, calm down. What’s the matter?”
“While you and Ronny were at the store, your mom was massaging my neck and shoulders and it kind of got out of hand.”
“What do you mean out of hand?”
She asked this not as if she was worried something happened, but as if she was curious about some idle story I was telling and she didn’t quite understand the plot.
“Well, you see, she and I were sitting on the couch and she began to rub my shoulders and then she was rubbing my neck and her hands went to my chest and then she was rubbing my neck some more and then…”
“Matthew, you’re babbling, slow down.”
“Sara, I had sex with your mom. I ate her pussy and she sucked my cock.”
A voice rang loud in my head. I feel as if I have just sounded the bugle call and the armies would be massing at my throat any moment. Cry ‘Havoc,’ and let slip the dogs of war. When my English teacher in high school told me that this would all make sense later in life, I certainly had no idea he would mean this, the bastard. Well, Mark Antony wasn’t half right when he said, “Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood, over thy wounds now do I prophesy.”
