Family Flavors

Story so far: genius scientist mom has seduced her son Peter through her ability to alter the flavor of bodily fluids. Her son's new girlfriend, Claire, who has a secret history of violence, discovers this. So Claire locks mom out of her Colorado mountain retreat at night in the teeth of a winter storm. Peter has no idea that his girlfriend has tried to kill his mom.

But is Peter's mom really dead?

This story opens six hundred miles to the west in California, the morning after the winter storm.

All of the characters really are fictional.

Addicted to Mom: Family Flavors 2

West Hollywood, Los Angeles.

Posey Hunter-Knightly pivoted on her world-class ass and stretched out her impossibly long legs onto the Hollywood sidewalk. The rising sun caught them, turning them into slender golden beacons, striking enough to turn a passing cop's head as he cycled by. He squinted at her, trying to make out who she was. And he was a gay Hollywood cop.

Posey's driver stood to attention as he held the door, offering his hand to help her out of the Bentley. But she did not accept. Craig was a good chauffeur, but Posey didn't like being touched by anyone worth less than $100 million unless they were Makeup or Hair.

She emerged from the limo with her back ramrod straight, like the top model she was, patting down her grey silk thigh-skimming miniskirt (her own line – Posey!) and cast her long-lashed eyes around for photographers. Getting out of the car was the high risk moment. One crotch shot in the Daily Mail would ruin her day. There was no-one there. Good. That was how she had planned it. She did not want to be seen entering the offices of this particular writer/director. He had a well-deserved reputation as a goat. But he made great movies and was worth at least $100 million. So he could touch her. That was why she was there.

Five minutes later she was up in his tennis-court sized office with panoramic views of the Hollywood Hills.

Crispin Tangerino, director of a half a dozen blockbusters, leapt up and came around his desk to greet her. He clasped her hands and gave her a kissy-kissy continental style peck on both cheeks. He had just returned from Biarritz and was in a French Mood.

"Posey, great to see you! How's Up-and-At'em?"

"His name's Jason. He's fine. I wish the press wouldn't use that nickname."

Posey put her annoyance away. She was there to sell herself. Whatever it took. And she had an idea what that was going to be.

"What brings you to my humble workshop?" said Tangerino waving a hand at his palatial office decked out with original art works by Rothko, Warhol, and Klimpt.

"I want the lead in Tomatohead," she said.

Tangerino faked amazement and surprise. Of course he knew exactly why she was there. Exactly what she wanted.

"I've already talked to Charlize."

Posey wilted. A moment of silence dragged out that Tangerino enjoyed.

"But I'm not committed yet."

Posey moved up close to him, her hand taking his. She looked into his eyes, willing him to make an offer or a request. His eyes slid down her gorgeous frame, her slender pelvic bones outlined in her silk miniskirt, her breasts small and firm as a top model's should be. He exhaled and tried to get a grip on himself.

"Very well. I'll need a screen test," he breathed. "An informal one. We can do it right here."

Posey nodded.

He clicked on his intercom. "No interruptions, Mary. I'll let you know when I'm done. Ms. Hunter-Knightly is testing for Tomatohead."

"Of course Mr. Tangerino."

Tangerino released her hand and moved away from Posey, towards the window. He couldn't possibly offer Posey the lead because she couldn't act. But, perhaps, MAYBE, a supporting role. He was thinking hard. He wanted to add her to his scorecard.

Plus he wanted to see if the new pills worked. He turned to face her.

"About the test. This story explores the limits of what is acceptable for a general release movie. You've seen Shia of course in Nympho. Hardcore is becoming mainstream and directors who are ahead of the curve will get the credit. By that I mean moi."

"Of course, Mr. Tangerino. What do you want me to do?"

"Improvise. Show me your range."

Posey walked up to Tangerino and led him back to his desk by the hand. She gently pushed him back against it, and he sat on the edge, waiting to see what Posey was going to do. Posey put her clutch bag down on the desk. Then she lifted up her minidress, pulling it up over her head, and laid it next to her bag. Tangerino, who had seen more than his fair share of the most beautiful women in the world up close, watched. He took in her body, her breasts now revealed in her bra, her pink panties under her white pantyhose, and her five inch super-narrow stiletto heels already digging holes in the Brazilian Cherrywood floor. He was impressed.

"Would you like me to take my bra off?"

"No. You can keep it on, Posey. I have a nine o'clock meeting by the way."

"Very well, I'll make it snappy. Mr. Tangerino, today I am going to play the role of a lady who finds you sexually attractive and desperately wants to suck your cock. Bear in mind that you are middle-aged, overweight and otherwise physically unattractive. But I am an actress. I have only one request."

Tangerino nodded, impressed with Posey's preparation despite himself.

"You can cum on my face. You can cum on my breasts, my legs, belly, panties, even my hair if you must. But you can't come in my mouth. Only Jason can do that. And of course, no pussy. Are we good?"

Posey stood before him, towered above him in fact, with her hands on her hips. Her gaze bored right into him.

"Chipper. Nice to know there are boundaries. Up-and-At'em's a lucky guy."

"His name's Jason. Now, where's your cock?"

Tangerino lifted his ass off the desk, unhooked his belt, and dropped his pants. He kept his boxers on just to see what Posey would do. He valued sexual improv as a way to assess actors. So far Posey was doing well.

"Boxers. Hmm."

Posey stepped up to the director and put one hand on his shoulder while the other slipped under the waistband and found his cock. It was small and floppy. Posey, one of the most beautiful women in the world, and displayed in all her glory before him, was disappointed.

"Well. What do we have here?" she said, reminding herself that she was in a critical audition.

She knelt down in front of Tangerino, nuzzling the bulge of his manhood through his shorts with her nose. Nothing.

Tangerino suddenly remembered that while he had taken the two pills supplied to him by Peter's mother – who he knew as Deborah Kneely - he had forgotten to take his Cialis.

What an idiot.

Time was a-wasting. Posey had a meeting later too. But she had to do well. Otherwise she would have humiliated herself for nothing. If Tangerino could not get hard they'd both be embarrassed. She pulled down his shorts and Tangerino's small flaccid cock stared back at her. She leaned forward and easily took the whole thing in her mouth while looking up at Tangerino adoringly.

"That's good. I'm almost convinced," he said as she sucked on his cock.

She teased it around inside her mouth with her tongue, willing it to get bigger. It started to show some signs of life, growing as she sucked it backwards and forwards, gently biting it with her teeth. She disgorged it.

"You can't come in my mouth, remember."

"Got it," said Tangerino, who actually had every intention of coming inside this beauty's pretty little mouth. That was the whole point. That was why he had taken Deborah Kneely's pills. He wondered if they were going to work. In any case he was going to come inside her. He couldn't wait. He just had to get hard.

He cursed himself for forgetting the Cialis.

Posey started wiggling her tongue against Tangerino's glans really quickly. Gradually Posey detected a fatter dick filling up her mouth. If she could have breathed a sigh of relief with his dick in her mouth she would have.

Tangerino felt it too, with about the same amount of relief as Posey, and even though his cock was only half-hard he knew he was going to come pretty soon. He realized that this was what scientists would call a premature ejaculation. It was also, if the pills didn't work, what Posey Hunter-Knightly would call a rotten trick.

Well, what can you do... Tangerino relaxed and prepared to enjoy it anyway. He had made his mind up. He watched her bobbing up and down as her perfect hair obscured her perfect face. He decided he was going to cum on her hair as well.

Still only half-hard, he felt his sperm rising up from his loin. Posey, wary and alert for any hint of ejaculation as she sucked away, had no idea anything was about to happen. Tangerino did not groan, did not moan, did not O God. Nuthin.

What Tangerino didn't know was that the pills Peter's mother had given him were a new and much improved product.

Tangerino knew they were supposed to make his cum taste better. But he also noticed his balls had become a little bit sore and quite swollen since he had swallowed the pills the previous day.

Posey was going to get a big surprise.

Posey had been a top model for more than ten years and that meant she was always half starving. She lived on carrots, lettuce, and boiled chicken, with a glass of dry white wine twice a week.

Without warning a flood of cum squirted into Posey's unsuspecting mouth from Tangerino's half-hard cock. She didn't know what it was. She didn't recognize it as cum. All she knew was that strawberry shortcake and fresh cream was now circling on her tongue, her palate, and yes she was already swallowing it. Automatically. It tasted fantastic.

Gathering her wits, she pulled back in surprise and saw a jet of white cum shooting out all over her chest from Tangerino's cock.

"It's not cum, Posey. It's magic food," said Tangerino desperately hoping she would engulf his cock with her Miss World mouth again.

She had not tasted anything like this since she was fifteen years old. Shaking off her doubts she seized Tangerino's cock once more, put it back in her mouth and sucked like she had never sucked before. She was not very ladylike. She slurped.

Tangerino saw the beauty half-heartedly toying with his dick change in seconds to a cock-sucking fanatic who was obviously enjoying the taste of his cum. And there was plenty of it, too. Far more than was normal. He pulled it out all sloppy, still spraying, and gobs of cum fell onto her hair, practically drenching her, but she soon grabbed it back and put it in her mouth. He had no idea how much cum he hosed into her mouth but it felt like a lot. And it all went down her throat.

Eventually, after five minutes it was over. He dried up and his cock was sore from Posey's violent sucking. His balls were shriveled. Of course, he had spilt quite a lot down her front, on her breasts and dripping down onto her panties and crotch. She looked up at him, wide-eyed, as she unconsciously scooped up the dribbles and licked her fingers.

"Your cum tastes terrific. You are naughty. How did you do that?"

She reached out to grab his cock again, but he danced away from her.

"Time to clean up and go, Posey. I'll bear you in mind for Tomatohead."

Posey flushed and started to pick up her things. She pulled her dress back on. Underneath it she was a sticky mess. Soaked. She would have to go home and wash her hair. Wash everything.

"I'll be in touch. Give my regards to Up'n At'em."

After she had gone Tangerino stared out of the window at the Hollywood Hills. He could see the Hollywood sign in the distance through the clear sunny morning air. He knew this could be bigger than Viagra, Cialis and all the others put together. This could change the nature of sex. He wanted to be a part of it. He also wanted more of those pills.

He called up the script of Tomatohead on his screen and started to make some edits. These pills meant cheaper acting talent. Maybe a bigger role for Posey. It was a whole new world.

After he was done he picked up his phone and called Deborah Kneely.

The Kneely Residence, Telluride, CO.

It was mid-morning in Deborah Kneely's Telluride mountain retreat, an oaken palace set into the steep sparsely wooded mountainside on thick pilings a mile or so from the airport. A heavy storm had just moved out, and deep drifts covered the landscape, piling up against the buildings, filling the hollows. The road down the mountain was blocked.

Looking out through the living room windows at the snowy valley laid out beneath him, Peter heard a phone ring and walked into the kitchen area. It was his mother's mobile. It was on the marble countertop and he was surprised to find it there. She always carried it with her.

He picked it up and pressed the button. Before he could say anything the caller spoke.

"Hey Debs, it's Sir Cumsalot. What a trip! I just nearly got my dick sucked clean off by Posey Hunter-Knightly. We need to talk business."

"This is Peter, Deborah's son. Who am I speaking to?"

Silence at the end of the line.

"Boy, I'm sorry Peter. It's Crispin Tangerino here. I'm an asshole. Look, I need to talk to your Mom. Do you think you could fetch her for me?"

"Of course, Mr. Tangerino. I haven't seen her yet this morning. She's probably still in her lab. She often works there overnight. I'll go fetch her. She'll call you back, OK?"

"Good boy, Peter. Sorry again. Thanks."

The line went dead.

"You're welcome, Sir Cumsalot," said Peter to the empty kitchen and went off in search of his mother.

Ten minutes later he was back. His mother was not in her lab, a separate outbuilding close by. He searched the main house room by room. His girlfriend Claire was in the bathroom washing off the results of their morning fuck. There was a bang on the bathroom door.

"I can't find Mom anywhere! Can you come out and help me search?"

"Be right there!"

The previous night, in a fit of anger at Peter's mother, she had locked her out of the house in the teeth of the winter storm. Although she had covered her tracks like an expert, and Peter's mom had not seen her, she was reconsidering the wisdom of her actions.

Claire scurried out of the bathroom naked, a slender elfish beauty who reminded Peter of Noomi Rapace. In five minutes they were bundled up and headed out the front door into a freezing cold wind.

"I checked the lab, I checked the house. Christ Almighty. Where is she?"

Claire followed him over to the three car garage set into the slope. He unlocked it and they went in looking around. All the cars were there and the snowmobile. No mom. Peter screamed in frustration as they emerged and looked around. There were deep drifts around the house and garage, but in other areas the wind had scoured the slope almost clean.

"I just lost my brother. I can't lose my Mom as well."

Peter and Claire were visiting for his brother's funeral, held earlier in the week.

As they looked around they were both thinking the same thing. Anyone under those drifts was long gone. Peter headed down to look under the house.

Claire was shocked at Peter's reaction. Just the previous evening he had angrily described the sexual coercion and abuse he had been subjected to by his mother. She thought he hated her. Now he was distraught that she might be dead? She swallowed nervously.

Instead of following him she inspected the garage from the outside. There was a big drift on one side that looked peculiar. She approached it. It was a vehicle, almost completely buried in snow. She rubbed away at the windows. They were frosted inside with frozen condensation. She heard a sound from inside the pick-up trick. She turned and yelled.

"Peter! Come here!"

Peter came running.

Half an hour later Peter's mom was tucked up in her bed while Peter tried to get a hot drink into her. She was white-faced. It wasn't going to be enough.

She had spent the night under blankets and a tarpaulin in the back seat of the Silverado. The vehicle's battery had been removed for the winter. Fortunately she had neglected to lock it back in October. When dawn came she found the doors frozen shut. Peter did not know it was even there. They carried her back into the house.

She looked up at him with wide eyes, too cold to shiver. She was hypothermic.

"Why can't I call 911, Mom? They can Medevac you out," said Peter, half-shouting. He knew warming up a hypothermia victim was a job for the ER. His mother shook her head.

"No. They'll do blood tests. I can't have that. My body is full of secrets," she whispered.

Peter looked at Claire in despair. Claire watched, thinking hard.

"We can't put her in a hot bath. That can cause shock," she said.

"OK," said Peter. "We should take hot showers, the both of us, and get in bed with her. I know they do that sometimes. I can't think of anything else if she won't go to hospital."

Peter's mom nodded.

To save time Peter and Claire showered together in his mother's ensuite, Claire turning up the water temperature to an almost unbearable level as they both moaned and their bodies turned red with the heat. Toweling off, they returned to her bed, Peter wearing boxers and Claire bra and panties.

Peter's mom didn't look any better.

"I'll get in front and hold her, you get in behind her," said Peter.

Peter climbed in and took his mother in his arms. Her skin was cold and clammy, her core temperature was way too low. He clasped her to him, trying to get as much skin as possible in contact. She was naked. They had taken her freezing wet clothes off. Claire noticed she had a Brazilian. She was also in the best shape for a fifty year old Claire had ever seen, apart from on TV. She reminded Claire of Sela Ward.

"Thank you, Peter," whispered his mother.

Claire climbed into bed and snuggled up to her back, wrapping her arms around her front and feeling Peter's body as she did so. After a moment she leaned back and discarded her bra. It was uncomfortable and reduced heat flow. Then she resumed her grasp.

They lay there like a human chimera for a long time.

"Why did you lock me out of the house, Peter?"

Peter, who had his face buried in his mother's neck, pulled back.

"I didn't lock you out, mom. You're confused because of the cold."

"It's OK. I forgive you. It was a long night in the truck. I had time to think."

Claire, full of unease, wriggled around, pushing her pelvis a little closer to his mom's Pilates-sculpted ass and squished her own breasts against her back. She also moved one of her hands up around to mom's breast and clasped it gently. It was very cold.

"I know why you did it," continued Peter's mom. "I used you. I've been forcing you to do things. That's going to stop. No more experiments on you. Can you forgive me?"

"Sure mom. We'll talk later. How do you feel?"

"Still cold. Peter, I've been doing some research. A completely new approach. By the way, are you getting hard, Peter?"

"No."

"Really?"

Claire herself, despite being stuck to a cold clammy back, was also feeling horny. It was the strangest thing. She couldn't help but feel around in front of his mom's belly and touch Peter. My God, he was. She put her hand on his stiff cock and squeezed him through his boxers. They both heard Peter's intake of breath.

"Is he my dear? It feels like it to me."

"Um. Yes," said Claire, embarrassed but not about to be pushed around. She kept hold of her boyfriend's cock.

Peter's mom stretched and wriggled. Both Peter and Claire felt her body move against theirs and felt the same sensation. Mounting sexual desire. Inexplicable. The last thing either of them wanted. It made no sense.

With one hand grasping Peter's cock, Claire gently squeezed his mother's breast with her other hand. Why, she did not know. She felt the nipple grow and she rubbed it gently between her fingers. Peter's mother groaned softly.