Summer days with my four boys were some of my fondest memories. We all preferred the warm months more than the winter - one of the few things that our entire family agreed on. The desire to spend a hot August afternoon basking in the sun was a proclivity we all shared, causing us to wring every pleasurable moment out of the season that we could.
On a particular day in late July, we were driving merrily to the beach with a metric tonne of equipment - from noodles to a fully enclosed tent - locked inside our trunk. We never went anywhere unprepared; there was a lengthy checklist that David, my eldest, had created for just such an occasion to ensure as much. When everything was packed up, we looked like we were going on vacation for a whole month!
The clouds had seemingly agreed to space themselves out so far that the sun became a looming threat. Anyone exposed to its rays without being touched by the Holy SPF - patron saint of pasty skin, blessed be thy name - was sure to catch a nasty burn. Thankfully, for that reason, along with a handful more, the windows in our SUV were darkly tinted.
David was our captain for the day. Alex, my second child, was his co-pilot. A few errant turns a while back had soured the air between the two of them, leading to the type of bickering that was usually reserved for the younger twins.
Felix and Lane, the aforementioned duo, were with me in the back seat, flanking me on either side. The three of us were in another world. Thanks to my method of distraction, the twins were ignorant to the ramblings of their older brothers in the cockpit. Like a devoted mother, I did my best to keep the young boys happy the best way I knew how - wrapping my tiny hands around their cocks and stroking them until they made a mess of my throat.
As I often did on long drives, I took advantage of the tinted windows in the van to jerk off my boys in private. Even when David pulled up to a gas station, I would be free to pump my fist up and down their cocks, no matter how many blissfully ignorant strangers passed by the window.
I had one hand reserved for each of their dicks. Being seated between them gave me plenty of access to play with them while their older siblings navigated us to the beach.
The boys moaned in unison, confirming the existence of their psychic, twin-based telepathy. Their groans sounded nearly identical, but the method of extracting those noises required a special touch for each of my four boys.
Since I knew the twins so well, as much as I did my other boys, I knew exactly what methods to employ to make sure their orgasms were as fulfilling as possible. I took my job as their 'Free-Use Mommy'
very
seriously, so I had studied up until I memorized their unique preferences.
Felix wanted short, rapid flutters around the head of his cock, while Lane preferred long, even tugs that enveloped his whole shaft with each stroke. It was tough, at first - much like trying to pat your head and rub your tummy simultaneously - but years of practice had turned me into a regular handjob robot. The complex dance had required years of practice to memorize, but I knew every step.
Alex was annoyed with - or perhaps jealous of - his groaning brothers, so he could not stop himself from complaining, "Will you two keep it down? We're trying to listen to a podcast."
Felix chortled. "At least you aren't arguing anymore."
"You said it, bro," Lane agreed, signifying unity in the backseat.
"Look who's talking; the king and queen of pointlessly spirited debate." David sneered at them in the rearview mirror.
The twins raced each other to the punch. "Dibs on king!" they shouted, in unison. As it turned out, boys
would
be boys, even when they were receiving a handjob from their own mother.
"Volume, please." I chided my boys for their loud outburst.
In unison, once again, they replied, "Sorry, Mom."
To reward them for their well-intended apology, I ramped up the speed of my stroking. The increased pace made my metal bracelets jingle noisily on my wrist. It sounded like I was shaking a tin full of coins, as I rapidly pumped my little fists up and down my son's erect cocks.
I briefly paused my stroking, so that I could plop a large dollop of saliva into the middle of my left hand. Then, I rubbed my palms together so I ended up with two slippery mitts that were ready to grease up my two virile, young men.
I wrapped one gooey fist around their bulbous cock heads. I twisted my wrists in a corkscrew motion, which allowed my fingers to graze against the tether of sensitive skin located directly below the engorged helmets.
My hands and fingers instantly adopted the proper shape to accurately manipulate the twins' most tender spots. It was second nature; the muscle memory was set so deeplu in my brain that accessing it was as natural as drawing breath.
It was akin to a guitar player masterfully dabbling on their instrument, producing from it melodies that a commoner could never understand. Years of dedicated practice having transformed their hand from a simple palm and five fingers, into a tool perfectly designed to do one thing as effectively as it can. I was much the same, though the instruments whose intricacies I had spent so many hours committing to memory did not produce sound - only cum, and plenty of it. The crescendo of their orgasms, signified by the rich harmonies of their enchanting groans, was close at hand.
All that was in my stomach at the moment was a smoothie I had that morning, so I was wary of the protein shots that I knew my boys were about to add to my liquid breakfast. The comparably thick, viscous texture shared by the smoothie and their semen was sure to upset my tummy. After swallowing both of their loads, along with the knowledge that Lane would likely produce twice the volume of Felix, I feared the sloshing of the mixture around my belly would make me feel a bit sick.
That was my burden to carry, and mine alone. I wanted my boys to feel good, so I swallowed my fears, much the same way I was about to swallow their rich, buttery cum without a peep of complaint.
Felix announced that he was about to cum, likely beating Lane out by a few short seconds. I turned to the latter and kissed his cheek, whispering in his ear, "Mommy will be right back."
As I relinquished Lane's cock, I felt him throb with excitement - though, perhaps, it was the green beast, known as jealousy, once again rearing its ugly head. If it was, he said nothing to confirm it. Any jealous feelings that arose in our family were quickly quashed— my pussy and I made sure of it. None of my sons received special treatment, so their envy only ever lasted until they had their turn with me.
I clamped my mouth around the head of Felix's cock, locking the head between my lips just as a rush of blood flared the fat, puffy mushroom. My tongue basted the sides of his helmet with saliva, fluttering its tender touch against the inflated knob, moments before his orgasm was announced to the entire car.
Felix groaned like a stuck pig, rooting his hands in my hair. I blocked out the sounds of bickering, and podcast rambling, to focus on the cock throbbing vigorously in my mouth.
His dick flexed like a bulging bicep and hurled forth a stream of thick, gooey cum. It was pungent, just as I knew it would be. Each of my boys tasted different than his brother; their flavours were as varied as the consistency of their semen.
I lurched reflexively, gagged by the viscous glue clinging to the walls of my throat. I remained as still as I could after that, trying to focus on anything other than the hot slime trickling down my esophagus.
More of his sticky glue erupted onto my tongue, joining the mixture of saliva and cum that saturated my taste buds like wallpaper paste. I ushered it to the back of my throat to join the first helping he had fed me, and had not swallowed yet. The pool of frothy cum in my gullet was a pool of salty bubbles, each one tickling the walls of my throat when they popped.
The final dribbles of thin, watery cum spilled from his dick, informing me that the bulk of his deposit was over. All that was left to do was throw my head back and...
GULP!
Felix's cum sank into my belly like a heavy stone. I stuck my tongue out at him, the customary practice, to prove that all of it had gone where I intended it to.
I had gotten more than I bargained for with my first son, doubling the anxiety I had towards swallowing his brother's load next.
One thing at a time, Claire,
