I couldn't sleep, so I got up in the middle of the night to get a glass of milk. I passed Peter's room in the hallway and paused, wondering if he was awake, wondering if he was thinking of me. Wondering what would happen if I went in. But I moved past. And stopped at Ethan's room, wondering again what would happen if I went in. I wondered if he wanted me--if I could have him if I wanted to. I tried to convince myself that it wasn't the case, but in the end, I knew that just like Peter, he was mine for the taking. I kept walking.
On a hunch, I looked out the front window. The kitchen light was on across the way at Olivia's place. I needed someone to talk to. I slipped on my sandals, pulled a jacket on over my nightgown, and went out into the suburban night. There was a warm breeze, and the neighbourhood was so quiet. I went around to the back of the house, and peeked in through the window. Olivia was sitting at the kitchen table, her laptop in front of her. She was drinking some sort of juice and wearing flannel pajamas. I tapped quietly on the window.
She looked up, startled, but smiled when she saw me.
"Hey," she whispered as she opened the door. "Everything alright?"
"Yeah. I just needed to talk."
She nodded. "Tony sleeps lightly. Let's go for a walk."
She met me around at the front door, sandals and a jacket over her pajamas. She had Norberg, one of her dogs with her. "We'll go to the park," she said.
We walked quietly for a little while. "Is it what it looks like?" she said at last.
I nodded. "Yeah."
"You told me you weren't getting any. Not that I'd necessarily expect you to tell the truth about something like that. I mean, I can understand why you lied."
"No, I was telling the truth yesterday. All of this, it just happened today."
"Really?"
I nodded.
"And how was it?"
I waited a while before answering. "It was really, really good."
"I thought so. Hottest sex I've had in my life was with my cousin. I was twenty one. We screwed on the rec-room pool table after thanksgiving dinner. I came like ten times."
"Something about the really awful, sinful stuff."
"Yeah. Of course, I don't have the option of going any further. I'm fucking the boy from down the street now, which is probably about as close as I could get to incest. With no son, I mean. Of course there's my daughters, but I'm not really bi..." she thought about what she was saying, how she had said that to me right before we made out. We laughed together. "So maybe I will do my daughters. Peter's a stud though. You're so lucky. You have to tell me the details."
So I did. Everything from the beginning, even about how Peter had been listening when she and I made out with the vegetables. I told her everything I said to Peter, everything he did to me.
"Wow. That's really hardcore. Send that in to some magazine."
I shrugged, feeling better about the whole thing. "What if I had the opportunity to do Ethan, too?"
"Really?"
"I don't know, I'm just thinking about it."
"One at a time, or both at once?"
The image formed in my mind of straddling Peter's cock while Ethan fucked me up the ass. I looked at Olivia, who had her eyes closed. She was apparently imagining the same thing.
"Two brothers. That would be hot," she said. "Especially if they were twins. Or a father and a son, that's even more taboo, I think. Like Peter and Harold."
I laughed. "Good luck with that. Harold hasn't gotten hard in years."
Olivia shrugged. We stopped walking and turned toward each other, again seeming to think the same thing, and then leaned toward each other for a gentle, passionate kiss. It was so tender and sensual, but I felt the bite of arousal behind her tongue.
"You're my best friend," she told me. "And I'll never second-guess you're decisions. I'm just glad you're honest with me."
I nodded. "Of course."
"And you have to keep giving me details."
When I got home, I went upstairs and immediately slipped into Ethan's room. It made perfect sense: were I to have sex with Ethan, it would make him an accomplise in incest, and would guarantee his silence. Deep down, I knew that wasn't the real reason. I wanted to fuck my younger son, I wanted to see how far I could take this.
I stood above his bed, wondering how to proceed as my eyes became accustomed to the low light. There would be no need for seduction, no need to discuss it. I knelt down, drew back the covers from his pale, moon-blue chest, and slipped my hand down inside his boxer shorts. He was warm and flaccid, and I touched him gently, wondering how aroused I could get him before he would wake up. My heart was beating so heavily that my chest was a little sore. The only thing more exciting than a young lover was a new young lover. How would he react? What would he say? Or would he just lie there and pretend to be asleep? He was growing beneath my hand, the tension of his root strong enough to draw from its resting position and push at the thin cotton of the boxers. I untucked him, poking his cock up through the opening in his shorts, and then leaned forward, and wrapped it in my mouth. It was long and slender, not a thick cock like Peter's. It was a good cock for sucking. It would be a good cock for ass-fucking, too. I worked my mouth around it, letting it rub against the roof of my mouth. Ethan stirred in his sleep, then went still, then moved again and suddenly sat up.
"Mom?"
"Lie back, Ethan," I mumbled, barely taking him out of my mouth.
Ethan slowly slid back down. "What are you doing, mom?"
I took him out of my mouth, and moved down to his balls, licking them softly. "It's called a blowjob sweetie."
"I know what it is," he whispered fiercely.
"Oh, you've had them before?" I asked, keeping my voice low.
"Maybe. But why..."
"After your little letter today, I was worried that you'd get jealous of your big brother. You know I love you every bit as much as I love him," I said, and then sucked one of his balls into my mouth.
"Oh mom."
I shushed him. "Quiet now. Just lay back and cum for me." I took his cock in my mouth again, and began to suck. I could feel myself getting so wet beneath my housecoat, and I reached one hand down to touch myself, slipping a finger over my clit in long strokes.
"I just want your cum right now, baby. But you can fuck me sometime," I said, then plunged my mouth down on his cock. "If you want to," I added next time I came up. I pushed down again as far as I could, and then swallowed, pushing down at the same time. I gagged a bit, but he was in my throat now. I had never done this before. I had read it in magazines, how to deep throat, but with Harold being so eternally flaccid, I had never gotten the chance to use that knowledge. Until now. It was a little uncomfortable, having him in my throat as I gently worked in and out. But what I was doing was so hot that it counteracted the discomfort. I pushed down further, at the same time slipping a finger deep inside myself, finger-fucking myself in time with Ethan's cock in my throat. Then I discovered that if I pushed down all the way and stuck out my tongue, I could lick Ethan's tight little sack while deep-throating him. Ethan wrapped a hand through my hair, pushing and pulling a little roughly. I could tell how much he liked that, the deep-throat/tongue combination. And when he started to cum, I could feel it first against my tongue, the throbbing at the base of his shaft. So I pulled myself up, drawing my tongue along the bottom of his cock, until just his head was still inside me, and his cum squirted out onto my tongue, my teeth, trickling down the back of my throat.
I swished it around in my mouth. It was a little more mild than Peter's, not nearly as salty. A bit more sweetness. I swallowed it back, and then slid up Ethan's body, giving him a little kiss on the lips.
"You're cum is delicious, baby."
"Mom?"
"Yes, honey?"
"Am I dreaming?"
I gave him another kiss. "You'll have to wait and see," I said. I slipped out of his room, down the hall, and into my own room. Harold was snoring. I climbed into bed, and tried to decide whether I wanted to continue masturbating. I hadn't cum yet, but so much had happened today already, and I felt certain I would have the opportunity to do more than simply masturbate tomorrow.
The life of a housewife can't be all sex, though, and I spent most of the morning getting things set up for Nancy's nineteenth birthday, which was only a day away. I was midway through wrapping when I realized that I hadn't bought Nancy any clothes yet this year. I got my purse and wallet and went out to the minivan, and drove down the mall about fifteen blocks from our house. There were lots of teenagers hanging about, since it was the middle of summer, and the only kids not at the mall were the ones taking summer-school, such as Ethan and Nancy.
I was going in and out of clothing stores, trying things on, when I came across a cute little pleated plaid skirt. It was very sexy, sort of a school-girl outfit. Not the sort that Nancy wore, though. She didn't have many guys in her life who would appreciate her dressing sexy like that. But maybe that was the problem--she always dressed in very common clothes so she never stood out to the guys. I decided she needed something more provocative. I bought the skirt in her size, then found a matching tie, a white cotton shirt, and a pair of white knee-highs. She didn't have shoes to match the outfit--mostly she wore running shoes--but I'd let her buy her own. This was definitely what she needed--it was the sort of outfit I had seen in music videos or on the covers of mens magazines.
When I got home, there was a message on the machine from Harold. He was leaving work early and was wondering if we needed any groceries. He said that since I wasn't home he'd pick up some milk and bread, since we always needed them. He was a thoughtful man, caring and honest. I felt bad that things had turned out the way they did between us. Not a loveless marriage by any stretch, but certainly a sexless marriage. Of course, it had been my fault, too. I had withdrawn from him after the children. Not consciously, of course. Maybe, though, it was something in my subconscious where I had associated the sex between us with pregnancy, childbirth, and the stress of raising the kids.
I was thinking about all of this as I started wrapping the outfit for Nancy. I had worn sexy outfits like this once. Not in the past few years, though. And Nancy's size was pretty close to mine... I stripped down right there at the table and quickly pulled on the outfit. It fit pretty well--I could tell as I was putting it on. I had to see how I looked in the mirror. I ran upstairs to the main bedroom, and stood in front of the full-length mirror. It was really, really stunning. I looked like a playboy model, except maybe for my large nose. I pulled my hair back into a ponytail, which made me look even younger. Of course, I could never wear this outfit out in public. Was it a little too much for my daughter to wear? I began to question the logic of giving it to her.
Just then, the door slammed downstairs, and Harold called out a "Honey, I'm home."
