Part One
Chapter Eleven
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You might want to read Chapters One through Ten first.
This is primarily an incest story, but it is also sci-fi/fantasy. Supernatural forces play a prominent role throughout the novel.
All characters are over eighteen. All acts are consensual.
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I looked up from my computer screen as Tara, the Executive Manager, walked by. Suddenly, filing tax returns was the farthest thing from my mind. She wore a khaki skirt that, despite reaching almost to her knees and in that sense being nominally professional, also tightly hugged her hips and round ass. Her black blouse had only one button open, but was also absurdly tight. It did nothing to hide the way her full breasts bounced as she walked.
Jack, the one attorney on the payroll, looked over at me from the opposite cubicle. "Only good thing about working here," he said. "Even the management is smoking hot. If only they wore the same outfits the models did."
I lowered my voice. "You said it, man."
The three models, Brianna, Natalie and Skye, were all amazing. And, as Jack said, the management types were no harder on the eyes. Besides Tara, there was Iva, the VP of Design; the Senior Vice President, Ellen, who was a VP only in the sense that she was married to the President and liked to feel involved; and Cindy, the administrative assistant, who really ran the place.
The women came in a decent variety of shapes and sizes, though all were attractive enough. There were younger women and more mature ones. There were brunettes, blondes, and redheads. Most of the women were breathtakingly pale. Some guys weren't into that, but it really did it for me. But some were not fair-skinned. Natalie often tanned, and Skye was half-black. Some were short, most average height, and Skye was pretty tall. Some were very thin. Some were top-heavy. Some had great lower bodies. A few even had the full package.
All in all, going to work provided plenty to fantasize about. But I couldn't fully agree with Jack that this was the best thing about working there. It was almost impossible to get work done with that bevy of beauties parading around the office.
"Too bad she's also a raging bitch though," Jack said, still referring to Tara. "Sometimes, I wish I could take out the stick that's been shoved up her ass. Replace it with something else, long as I'm at it."
"A-fucking-men to that. On both counts."
Just then, my phone rang. Jack looked like he'd been about to elaborate on what he'd like to do to Tara, but covered his mouth and mouthed an apology.
It was Ellen. Unsurprisingly, she wanted to see me in her office. I assured her I'd be right up, dropped the phone back in its cradle, and swore under my breath. They'd been riding me hard about annual financial report for weeks. It wasn't even September yet. A whole month left in the fiscal year. I prepared myself to do my best "yes, ma'am"ing.
But as soon as I got to her office on the executive level, I realized I'd been mistaken somehow. Her blinds were closed. They were never closed. Perhaps she didn't want to talk about the annual report after all.
Heart racing, I opened the door to her office, which was also never closed.
Ellen sat atop her desk, one leg folded over the other. Her thighs could not be that thick. Not on a woman with that frame. It just didn't make sense. Her waist-to-hip ratio was, I felt sure, literally impossible. Like Tara, her black skirt and brick red blouse covered everything they should cover, but were stretched almost to the limit by her mind-boggling curves.
"Thanks for coming. Mind closing the door?" A shoe dangled from one of her pretty little feet, propped up by her toes. Her calf muscles rippled underneath her stockings.
I did as she asked.
Ellen tossed her inky black hair over her shoulder. I was pretty sure she was at least twenty years my senior, but you'd never know it unless you stared real closely. As, of course, I often did. There were slight hints of age at the corners of her eyes and her mouth, but her hair was as glossy and vibrant as a younger woman's, and her skin was firm. She either wore miraculously effective bras or gravity had not yet caught up to her enormous melons.
"...so I guess what I'm asking is how comfortable you are with keeping a secret."
"Perfectly comfortable," I said.
"Well, that was incredibly reassuring." Ellen slipped off the desk. "Let's come at this from a different angle."
"Okay...."
She unbuttoned the second button of her blouse. "Do you find me attractive?"
"I assume that's a rhetorical question."
She smiled. "Indulge me."
"Your husband is a very lucky man," I said.
"Maybe. But he doesn't seem to think so. Hasn't paid any attention to me in forever."
"That's a shame," I said, keeping my voice flat.
She smiled wanly. "In fact, he's having an affair. I'm not even sure he cares if I know that he's been balling his secretary for months now. And probably not just her. I've seen how he looks at Iva. So I've started looking elsewhere myself. I've cheated on him more than a few times. But, so far, not with anyone he knew."
"Good for you," I said.
"And for you. If you want it to be," she said.
I didn't reply. But I very deliberately made sure that my body language did not provide even the slightest hint of nerves. I wanted her to think that I could take it or leave it.
"Okay, so here's the plan. Tonight, after work, there are going to be some stiff dicks inside me. Yours can be one of them. Or you can just watch on your computer, since I'll be using a webcam. Or maybe you want to watch for a while first, then join. Whatever.
"Either way, you should stay in the office late and wait for my email. If you decide that jerking off in your office while watching me be a filthy slut is enough for you, that's fine. But I do hope that you decide to join."
"I'll keep that in mind," I said.
"Hopefully I'll see you later on then," she said, buttoning up her blouse once more.
"Maybe. We'll see what kind of mood I'm in," I said.
My back already turned, I couldn't see what I was sure was a priceless look on her face. But the exasperated huff and mumbled curses told me all I needed to know.
#
As I sat at my desk waiting for the email to arrive, something nagged at me. It wasn't just that it was the boss's wife. That was fine with me, even though it shouldn't have been. Something else that had my palms slick with sweat, my foot tapping incessantly.
I couldn't say what it was though.
That is, until the email finally arrived and I clicked on the link. As I watched the blurry image of a woman being spit-roasted by two gigantic black cocks, it came to me.
Ellen was my mother.
I wasn't sure how I knew at first. And then I couldn't figure out how I hadn't known.
Weirdly, I was still hard as a rock.
I wasn't proud of that. But the truth was, it turned me on even more.
On some level, I felt like I would be just as disgusting and fucked-up a person if I sat there and jerked off while watching my mother get tag-teamed by the twins as I would be if I went upstairs and joined in. But of course that was crazy. However weird it was to be turned on by watching it, and it was weird, there was no way that compared to participating.
It wasn't guilt then that made me decide to stay at my desk, even though I'd been planning all evening on joining in.
Perhaps part of it was that I didn't feel like trying to compete with the twins, Vince and Ismail. They made the guys that populated most women's fantasies look bland. Much as I'd like to pretend I didn't find them intimidating, I absolutely did.
Even so, my other motivation, the one I told myself was the most prominent one, was to play hard to get. It had seemed to work well earlier. So I figured that the odds were that if I played my cards right, I'd have her all to myself later that night.
And horny as fuck to boot.
I had no interest in pretending that did not appeal to me either. I felt like I should be surprised, or disgusted, or at least mildly ashamed. But I felt none of those things. I wanted to fuck my mother, and I didn't care in the least whether that made me a horrible person.
#
I decided to wait around for no more than ten minutes after the show ended. But it turned out that was more than enough time. About three minutes after her camera went black, a message appeared in my inbox.
From Mom, of course.
My stomach clenched as I opened it.
The message was brief. "Hope you don't leave before checking this. If you're even still here. Meet me in the hotel lobby, 15 mins? Ellen."
Bingo.
So I drove across the street to the hotel and went and found an open table in the bar in the lobby. I was a little early so I decided to have a drink. Take the edge off my nerves a little. Not that I expected it to help much.
I couldn't believe what I was about to do. It was insane. Revolting.
And so incredibly exciting, I almost couldn't bear it.
A few minutes after we were supposed to meet, Mom arrived. She wore an overcoat that left nothing but her stockinged calves and heels visible.
"Hi," she said as she walked up to the table. "This seat taken?"
I chuckled, gestured for her to sit.
She took the coat off, revealing a sensible business ensemble. A black skirt, less form-fitting than usual, and a blue blouse worn over a black undershirt. The blouse was also looser than she often wore. Not that I hadn't seen exactly what she had to hide just a little while earlier. Was I wrong about what she had in mind for this little get together?
Maybe she'd remembered as well?
The waiter darted over to our table without appearing to be in a hurry. Mom ordered a frozen margarita, thanked him with a smile, then turned her large brown eyes to me.
