Heather growled and stomped her foot under the kitchen table. There, on her laptop, she'd just been ditched from an AOL instant message chat. She'd seen it coming a mile away. The "girl" she'd been talking to (it was those rare times when you could be sure that you really had something) contributed almost nothing to the conversation other than "ooh... that's hot" and "what happened next?" She'd stuck with "her" so long because the spelling had been perfect, another rarity.
Heather had told "her" about that time she and her sister had gotten into a wrestling fight in the finished basement of the house she grew up in and had ended up making out and feeling each other up. It was just as well that her online partner had fled, no doubt to jack off, because she'd made the whole thing up, and was running out of creative juice. There was no finished basement beneath her, in her mom's house where she was living again (temporarily), and she and her sister Valerie had never made out and felt each other up anywhere but in one of their bedrooms, or in a tent that time on the camping trip.
It was always easier to start one of her stories with a cybersex partner with a "wrestling fight." In reality, Valerie, two years younger, had simply invited herself one night to explore various parts of Heather's body, while Heather, wide-eyed, hadn't figured out how to object before she decided she liked it. Not very sexy for AOL's Short Attention Span Theater, otherwise known as private chats between patrons of one of their chat rooms. Besides, as much as Heather secretly loved being seduced, she was wary about exposing that part of her to strangers online, and wanted to have a more aggressive role in her stories. She was sure her partners, especially the dirty middle aged men, didn't mind.
She minded, just now, because she'd been ditched and was too tired and crabby to try and fish for another partner. "Good bye!" Mr. AOL said as she disconnected. A wine refill, she thought, and maybe some pay per view porn. Her mom and sister were out at an engagement party at some bar and weren't due back till after midnight. She could have gone herself but claimed a headache.
She drew her now half empty wine bottle down from the counter and filled her glass again. Done with her Masters in library science and looking for a job in a college or university hopefully as far away from where she grew up as possible, she snorted at the idea of spending her Saturday night drinking wine alone and on AOL looking for a woman to masturbate with. In the kitchen of the house where she'd grown up.
It was just a few weeks since she'd completed her degree in her last summer semester, and she wouldn't be living here long, but she felt like she'd backtracked. She shouldn't, though, she told herself. Val had never left, commuting to the school 15 minutes away. She would never have thought it, Val sticking around at home and not getting out as soon as she could. But maybe she was just projecting her own attitude on to her sister.
She and Val hadn't talked much in the weeks since she'd been back home. For her part, Heather was passive-aggressively avoiding her sister until she saw fit to invite herself into her room some night to have sex. She'd be damned if after all these years she'd make the first move. So, they didn't talk much.
Nor did Heather and her mom talk much. That had always been the case, though. Like moms tend to be, hers was concerned that Heather hadn't met a nice man and made plans to start a family. Her trying to get a job at an academic library far, far away didn't help matters. If she thought it would ease her mind rather than prompt a bunch of nosy questions, Heather would have told her mom that she had had thoughts about settling down with a... partner this last year, but it hadn't worked out. (Rachel had found religion and decided to marry some guy that had been after her all during school.)
Heather undid her ponytail now that she wasn't trying to read a computer screen and shook her shoulder length amber hair loose. It had almost always been shorter than Val's, almost a butch cut, but now they could have been mistaken for one another. (Rachel had liked longer hair.) She'd decided against pay per view porn, not looking forward to explaining the charge to her mom when she got the bill. In the living room, she set her wine aside and crouched down to look over the books in the bookshelf to see what she might read to fall asleep, when quite suddenly, the front door opened.
Something banged into the door and someone yelped, and someone else laughed... it was her mom and Val, back early. Heather looked over her shoulder and frowned at the noise and spectacle of their entrance. One of them, Heather couldn't tell which one yet, was backing in to the house, hunched over a little, almost like she was dragging something... what in the world? She heard a muffled cry as her mom nearly tripped over the doorstep... it didn't register immediately, then it did. Val's and her mom's faces were... together. Val backing in, mom facing forward... they were kiss--
No.
Val yelped again. "Cold!" she squeaked. Her mom had her hands... under Val's shirt. Val was trying to shake her coat off, still backing up. The door shut behind her mom and Val stumbled forward, wrapping her arms around her for support. It was obvious that at least Val was drunk. Heather hoped her mom was, too. Or was this normal? She shrunk further into her crouch at the foot of the bookcase. She'd be seen if either of them looked her way, but she hoped to avoid that just now, her mind swimming.
Val helped her mom get her coat off and they continued to make out sloppily, lots of "mmphs" and groans. Val yelped yet again as her mom jumped up and wrapped her legs around her daughter's waist as they continued to embrace. Laughing, Val carried her mother up the stairs toward the bedrooms, stumbling a couple times.
Heather sat there dumbstruck for what seemed like many minutes. She couldn't decide what she felt. At first, she was reflexively repulsed by the idea of such an incestuous pairing, but she quickly realized it wasn't as though that kind of thing was unheard of, at least for Val. Then she stewed with jealousy. So Val wouldn't fuck her while she was home because she was getting some in the next room? She wondered whether incestuous relationships were supposed to be monogamous, and she rolled her eyes at her academic question.
Finally, she decided she'd better find a final destination for the night. She was mortified by the thought her mother or sister would suddenly realize they'd seen her in the living room and come down to talk to her. Whatever she did with this knowledge later, right this very second she didn't want anyone to confront her about it. She started toward the stairs, doubled back to drain the last of her wine, then tiptoed up to her bedroom.
As she very quietly shut her door and kept still, she heard several things from the next room. She heard the creaking of bedsprings. She heard probably her mother call out "oh!", and probably her sister say "shhh!" and giggle. So, even drunk, they did realize she was in the house. How thoughtful.
Heather lay down on her bed and wriggled out of her jeans, trying to ignore the activity next door and her own thoughts. She chuckled when she imagined going on AOL tomorrow: "Last night my mom and my sister came home from a party, drunk..." Something hit the other side of the wall, probably her mom's headboard, followed by more laughter and shushing. Heather seethed. She buried her head under her pillow and eventually, aided by half a bottle of Merlot, went to sleep.
Later, she had no idea how much later, she awoke in the dark to the sound of her door creaking. She remembered the circumstances under which she'd retired for the night and kept very still, opening her eyes just enough to get a look at the door. Someone was tiptoeing through it, but while they were trying to be stealthy, they had that bull-in-a-china-shop way of trying to be quiet that drunk people have. As the figure eased closer, Heather saw it was her mom.
Her mom felt in front of her with her hands, and ran into the foot of Heather's bed. She felt the bed now, and seemed puzzled. Oriented, her mom felt her way up toward Heather's head. Then she kneeled down.
"Sweetie?" she whispered. Heather was almost sure the 's' had sounded like a slurred 'sh'. Her mom eased her face toward hers, and Heather smelled the alcohol on her breath. It wasn't unpleasant, just confirmation that she was very, very drunk. As if further confirmation were needed.
"Sweetie?" she whispered again, more urgently. "Valerie?"
Heather stopped breathing. Her mom thought she was in Val's room, and that she was Val. If she corrected her right now, she'd probably spare them both a lot of embarrassment. Instead, unaccountably, she kept still, pretending to be asleep. Her back was flat against the bed but her lower body was on its side, one leg atop the other.
Heather noticed for the first time -- it was pitch black in her room with the door closed again -- that her mother was completely naked. She started breathing again, harder. Her mother was built like she and Val both were, on the taller side, a bit -- just a bit -- on the wider side, bigger hips and a fuller ass than average, and all around great curves. All the women in the family had nice tits, too, but she was surprised to see that her mom's hardly sagged with age. They could have been Val's, 23 years younger. And now she could smell the sex on her. She felt a pang of jealousy again. If Val had fucked her, she had been very, very well fucked.
In her determination to wake her daughter, her mom slinked her arm underneath the covers. Then another. She brushed Heather's naked leg, gave it a very slight nudge. Heather kept still. The idea her mom would realize her mistake and have to explain herself didn't give Heather any pleasure, but she kept very still to see what her mom would do.
She glanced at Heather's face, partially obscured by her pillow and in the total darkness of the room, and smirked. Then she carefully pulled the covers up enough to slide under them herself, face first.
She wriggled down the length of her daughter's body, under the covers, now with one of her own legs on the bed. She eased Heather's leg, crossed over on top of the other, off to the side. Heather's heart was pounding. She'd fucked her sister how many times, and clearly her mother had no compunctions about sleeping with a female family member. And it would serve Val and her mother right if something happened here, she told herself. But nothing would if she didn't keep quiet.
Her mother gently gripped the waistband of her panties and pulled, exposing her pussy under the covers. Now her mother's second leg came up on the bed to steady her. A knee hit Heather in the side of the head, but she wasn't about to say "ow."
Heather's eyes rolled back in her head as her mother's face met her pussy lips. Her nose poked at it, then her tongue licked from top to bottom, forcing the breath from Heather. She still tried to keep quiet, but a sober lover would know she was awake by how wet she was getting.
Her mother licked and slurped at her slickening cunt, sometimes a broad lick with the whole surface of her tongue, which made Heather dizzy, sometimes poking with the tip, which jolted electricity through her. Despite herself she began to writhe, and she had to grip the bottom sheet of the bed to keep from ravaging her mother's 43-year-old sexy body in response.
Her mother found her clit and nubbed it with her lips, almost, but not quite, eliciting a guttural moan from her daughter. Tears leaked out of her tightly closed eyes, though. Her mother continued to lick and slurp her way up and down her daughter's pussy as Heather fought to keep as still and quiet as possible. Her predicament enhanced the feeling that her body was melting, completely submissive, beneath her mother. For the minutes her mother kept at her, she made it a game and a challenge to stay still.
