(Note to readers: Better read "The Twins' Tangled Web" first to fully understand what's going on here. --Uncle Bert)
An icy silence filled the car as Ellen Sanders drove through the waning daylight.
Ellen's son Roger sat in the passenger seat; they hadn't spoken for miles. Roger wouldn't even look at his mother; he'd only stare blankly at the passing trees, roadside stands, and gas stations. Ellen, for her part, just drove, waiting for him to thaw.
But there were years of silence between them, one of the consequences of Ellen sending Roger's father to jail.
Most people would say that Ellen had done the right thing several years before. She had caught Jake, her husband of more than twenty years, in bed with both of their twin blonde daughters, Cathy and Kelly. Appalled, Ellen hid tiny cameras in the bedroom where most of the action took place, videotaped Jake and the girls in the act, and called the authorities. Jake got ten years.
But the price of justice was the loss of her relationship with her children, most of her family, and nearly all of her friends. Ellen hadn't spoken to either Cathy or Kelly since they moved out to attend different colleges. Roger, himself a college freshman at the time, was completely surprised by Jake's arrest, and, humiliated, stopped talking to Ellen as well. It didn't help that, once the videotape was made public at Jake's trial, it went immediately to the Internet. Because anyone could download it at any time, the story simply wouldn't die.
The case made Ellen a social pariah. If there were a better man than Jake out there, she'd never meet him, because they were all scared of being videotaped.
It's not fair, Ellen thought. At forty-four, her hair was rich, thick and a golden dark blonde. Unlike her daughters' full, round globes, Ellen's breasts sloped to sharp points before curving gently underneath. Lithe and sinuous, most men first noticed Ellen's wide grey eyes and naturally long, thick lashes; their appreciation of her thin red lips and graceful birdlike features usually registered later.
She certainly turned heads today, at the grocery store; the sleeveless yellow blouse she wore accentuated her golden mane, and her tight jeans silhouetted every pretty curve.
Ellen stole a glance at Roger; twenty now, well muscled, with the curly black hair that had attracted Ellen to Jake in the first place, and Jake's eyes, and Jake's square chin. Despite herself and the waves of hostility emanating from her boy, she smiled. Roger resembled his father in so many ways, but Jake's hard features were softened by Roger's eyes, a gentle cobalt blue that made it impossible for Roger to conceal anything he might be feeling.
Thinking of Jake and the endless hot sex they'd shared in college led to less pleasant thoughts; namely, except for masturbation, Ellen hadn't had so much as a kiss on the cheek since Jake went to jail. In fact, the most stimulating material she had was her own copy of the evidence tape.
Never had she seen sex so hot! Or imaginative. Ellen had seen the entire tableaux when it happened, of course, on the TV monitor in the next room. She saw her daughters giving their father a dual blowjob, their lips meeting around Jake's massive shaft. Her cunt nearly boiled over when Jake rammed into one of the girls from behind while the other crawled underneath to apply oral sex, and, just when Ellen thought Jake was spent, he plunged his dick into his other daughter while it was still hard, and give her what looked like an unforgettable ...
Ellen began to feel dampness growing between her legs. At the time, she was horrified by their behavior and driven by humiliation, embarrassment, and revenge. Now, she wondered if the three of them might have been onto something. Had it been worth it? What was so bad, really? Night after night now, alone on the sofa in the rec room where it had all taken place, Ellen churned her clit and watched her husband make love to Cathy and Kelly over and over again.
With Roger coming home she couldn't even do that. The only reason Roger was even in the car with her was that school had ended for the year and he had nowhere else to go but home.
Finally, Ellen could stand it no longer.
"Honey ..." she said.
"Christ, how could you!" he snapped, finally facing her. "Do you have any idea what it's been like for me? Not one day goes by that somebody doesn't razz me about Dad! Not one!"
"Did you ever think about how what he did hurt me?" Ellen asked softly. "Do you have any idea what it feels like to lose your husband to your daughters? I had to put a stop to it, you know that."
"Did you have to tape it? Couldn't you have just blackmailed him into stopping?"
Ellen shook her head.
"I was so angry," she replied, "and I had every right to be. And don't forget, the girls were betraying me, too."
But Roger turned away again and sulked. When Ellen glanced at him again, she noticed that he had twisted his body away, concealing his lap. Why is that? she wondered. He can't be very comfortable. Roger shifted, and she spotted the truth; Roger's cock, bent and cramped, stood out like a long, round stone in his jeans.
My God, Ellen thought with a shock, he watches that tape a lot too! That's what gets him off!
The sun dipped below the horizon as Ellen's mind swirled with possibilities. Tormented by years of sexual frustration, loss and loneliness, envy of Jake and the twins, and now this sudden, surprising common bond with Roger …
The new-found knowledge relaxed Ellen considerably and a plan formed in her mind. She left the interstate at the next exit.
"What are you doing?" asked Roger.
"I'm tired and hungry," she said. "We're spending the night at the first motel we find near a decent place to eat."
Roger stared at her and gulped. "But--''
"I won't accept any arguments, Roger. We have to talk this out before we go home, and we can hardly do that in a restaurant."
When Roger reflexively grabbed his crotch, Ellen knew she had him. She soon found a small, quiet, eight-room motel and pulled in, leaving Roger in the car while she registered. Twenty minutes later, key in hand, she opened the door to their room. A simple anonymous room with white walls, a few cheap prints, a lamp, and one double bed.
"Mom," said Roger, his voice raspy and dry, "where am I going to sleep?''
"With me," she whispered, closing the door. "You've been hiding that hard-on for miles. Doesn't it hurt?''
Shocked, he inched backward. Ellen advanced, pushing Roger toward the bed.
"But Mom, this is incest! We can't! Remember all the trouble it got Dad into?" Roger took another step backward and tumbled onto the bed.
Ellen joined him and boldly placed her hand over his bent, pinched prick. Raw heat filled her palm and she found his pulse, which hammered forcefully against the heel of her hand. Gently, soothingly, Ellen straightened Roger's cock.
