Everyone gathered around the kitchen table for dinner, and I avoided eye contact with Peter. I was still aroused at the thought of everyone eating the vegetables that had marinated in my pussy and Olivia's. I took some of the salad, and took a bite. To my surprise, it was quite salty, as well as tangy. And not just any quality of salt--it was that delicious masculine salt that I hadn't tasted in years.
"Thanks for helping with the salad, Peter."
"No problem."
"It tastes really good," Nancy said. I grinned, wondering if she recognized the flavour, or whether it was a new taste for her. The thought of her eating her brother's juice was so hot to me, and I could feel myself getting wet again. I'd have to go masturbate again after dinner. When was the last time I was so sexed up? Such a long time.
Ethan had rented a movie to watch that evening, some coming of age comedy that I had never heard of. But everyone else seemed keen to watch it, so I agreed to watch, too. I sat in the armchair, while Ethan, Nancy and Harold sat on the couch. Peter sat in the beanbag chair on the far side of the couch, which was turned slightly toward me. I ended up just watching Peter, imagining wandering over there to the beanbag chair, straddling him, and pressing my breasts down to his lips, his face, smothering his whole face. Reaching down and feeling his cock within his jeans. Pulling it out, and beneath my skirt, gentle settling down on top of him, letting him enter me... Peter caught me looking at him, and I didn't look away. We just stared at each other, as we had in the kitchen earlier. I could see the slow change in his jeans, see the bulge grow and transform. Peter noticed where my gaze had traveled, and gave me a half-grin. In response I licked my lips, very slowly. I was getting so wet just from our illicit eye contract as our family sat between us, watching the film.
I dropped my hand into my lap, sliding it up my skirt and along the edge of my panties. Nobody could see where my fingers were over the edge of the armchair, but I knew Peter, watching me, could tell what I was doing. He slipped his hand into his pocket.
"Mom, can you get me some ice cream?" Nancy asked.
"Can't you get some yourself," I asked, annoyed that every time Peter and I began to get aroused, she had interrupted us.
"I'll get it," Peter offered, standing. He still had his hand in his pocket, to mask what I was sure was a tremendous hard-on. "Who else would like some ice-cream?" He looked toward me, and now standing, he could see how I had my hand up my skirt. I fingered myself slowly staring straight at him. "Mom, would you like some?"
"Yes, honey, I would."
He went to the kitchen, and I heard the sound of the freezer opening. It took a few minutes for him to return, and I imagined what he might be doing. I fingered myself more vigorously, and a moment later, he returned. There was no longer a bulge in his pants, and when he handed me my bowl, I recognized immediately a glossy glaze over the ice cream.
It was a delicious combination of flavours, like old-fashioned ice cream that was naturally a little bit salty.
"Mmmm," I gave a moan of pleasure that could have been mistaken by most of my family as a simple enjoyment of food, but which would not be mistaken by Peter. "Yummy," I said, watching him as I ate, letting the ice cream melt in my mouth and linger with the cum, savouring the sensation of it running down my throat. I was so looking forward to drinking his salty juice directly from the tap. Fresh ingredients always taste best. Peter was still watching me, so I put my finger into the bowl of ice cream, slipping a bit of his cum onto my fingertip, holding it up so that he could see, and then slipping my hand down between my legs. Of course, he couldn't see how I rubbed that bit of cum over my clit and into my pussy, fingering myself deep, but I'm sure he could imagine it. I couldn't stand it any more, I needed a shower to cool off, so I stood and left the living room, taking time to let Peter admire my ass as I strutted away from him and up the stairs.
Monday morning, I woke up at seven and went down to start breakfast, preparing some muffins. Harold was already down at the table, reading the paper.
Peter came down soon after, looking cheerful and relaxed.
"You know Peter, now that you're on your own, maybe you need to learn a bit more about cooking," I suggested to him as I leaned over the table to clear Harold's plate. I watched his eyes flicker between my face and my cleavage. "You know, women love men who can cook."
"Yeah, I've heard that."
"So do you want some lessons?"
"Huh?"
"You want mommy to teach you how to cook?"
He smiled. "Sure."
I had not intention of screwing him. Not consciously, anyway. There were so many other things that I wanted him to do for me, like jerking himself off for me, feeding me his cum on a spoon.
Harold was still sitting at the table, but across the high counter, he could only see us from the chest up. Not that he was looking; he was too engrossed in the paper. He'd be leaving for work soon, anyway. Harold couldn't see how, as Peter came into the kitchen, I handed him a wooden spoon, but not simply handing it to him; I took his hand in mine, turned it over, ran my hand from his wrist down into the palm. It was a large hand, but still soft and young, slightly boyish. I put the wooden spoon into his hand, guiding his fingers as they curled around the shaft.
"I'm going to get you to mix some batter for me. Don't hold it too tight. Sort of loose in your hand." He relaxed his grip, and I slid the wooden spoon in and out of his hand, fucking his boyish grip.
"We're going to be making a cake."
"For Nancy's birthday?"
"Yes. We've got two days, so we'll bake the cake today, and then decorate it tomorrow. Now, start adding the ingredients."
I loved the juxtaposition. Baking a cake for my daughter while seducing my son. Multitasking a mother's duties to her family with a mother's darkest fantasies.
"Now, you're going to need some sugar, some flour, some butter..." I found a recipe for a nice light cake, and set it out before him. "Down to here. Mix these ingredients. I'm going to be making some bread. Be forewarned," I continued, "the kitchen tends to get really hot when you're doing a lot of baking." I took the bottom of my t-shirt, and looped it back through the neck and tied it, that fashion that the girls in music videos always wore, and it pulled the fabric tight over my breasts. I glanced down to see if my nipples were visible through the red shirt. Not yet, but they could be before long. I looked up, to see Peter watching me.
"Well, I'm off," Harold said from the table beyond, and my heart began to race. With Harold out of the house, Peter and I would have the place to ourselves until Ethan and Nancy got home at three. How far would I go? I wasn't sure. Would I feel him through his pants? Would I get to see his cock? Hold it in my hands? Would I put his hands up my skirt, all the way up to where I had neglected to wear panties?
I began to mix up the flour and water beneath my own hands, forming it into a dough. Now was the moment to act, but my mouth was dry. We both dutifully worked on our tasks, our courage gone.
"So, how are things going at college?" I asked him at last.
"Pretty good. You saw my marks."
"Yeah, I was meaning your social life, though."
"Oh, that. Yeah, it's good. I go out to the bar on weekends, usually hang around the dorm on weeknights. We have movie nights, and we play street hockey."
"Sounds fun. How about girls?"
"Yeah, there's some girls who play hockey with us."
"Are you dating anyone?"
Peter paused for a moment before answering. "There was a girl I was dating for the first half of the semester. But she dropped out and moved home to Vancouver when her mother died."
"Oh, I'm sorry. That must have been hard on you," I offered sincerely. I knew how much it hurt when a lover moved away. "Are you seeing anyone now?"
He shrugged. "I go on a few dates, nothing serious."
"That's good. Casual sex is one of the best things about college."
Peter looked up surprised, but smiling slightly. I felt relief that at last I had gotten the conversation back to sex.
