Mother of Love

Author's Note:

Hey folks! I know this is a bit late; I wanted to ensure I could release it alongside Ch. 4 to force myself to stop procrastinating.

Thank you for your support, I love this community <3

*DING-DONG*

The familiar chime of our doorbell bounced down the hallway and into the kitchen, snapping me out of my haze and renewing the anxiety I had been avoiding all morning.

Shit, already? It can't be ten yet!

I checked the oven clock and cursed myself for letting time get ahead of me. I'd barely slept a wink after my night with Sean, so time was bending itself as it always did after a lack of sleep.

Donald had left for his retreat only a couple of hours ago, and wouldn't be back for at least a few days. Lucy was gone as well, having left before I was out of bed, without so much as a note, much like I would have at her age. I knew she wouldn't be home until tomorrow morning at the absolute earliest, and when she

did

come home, she would be belligerently hungover.

With the house empty except for a still-sleeping Sean, I had invited my sister over in the hopes of flaunting my son in front of her. Granted, I planned on letting her have her fun, but slow, methodical teasing was still in the cards.

Lo and behold, though not to my surprise, Caitlin turned up early. She rapped on the door, hard, not letting common courtesy deter her. "I know you're home, Sophie! Let me in, you slut!"

"It's open!" I hollered from the kitchen, tossing the dishtowel on the counter before smoothing down my skirt.

Caitlin burst through the door with a mischievous smile on her face, scanning the front hall for her nephew. "Where is he?" She was a starved lioness being teased with supper, and patience was not on the menu.

"First of all, it's nice to see you, too." I opened my arms for a hug, and Caitlin embraced me as tightly as she could. She resumed her search and asked, again, where my son was. "Somebody's eager, I see."

"Is that a bad thing?" Her eyebrow peaked, but she gave up her search and turned her attention to me.

"It is when you're screaming my name and calling me a slut for all my neighbors to hear!" I folded my arms across my chest. "Was I unclear about the importance of discretion?"

"Okay, okay, sorry!" She held up her hands as if to defend herself from my verbal punches. "To be fair, I haven't seen him in a while, and I talk to you every other week. I was a little afraid you might start without me."

"I promised you I'd wait, and I've been good." I winked. "Silly me, how can I

possibly

ask you to prioritize your own sister over some dick?"

"

Some

dick?" She was taken aback. "The way you talked about it; I'm expecting this to be

the

dick. Like, the dick of all dicks."

"I'll let you judge for yourself," I said, to which Caitlin clapped her hands excitedly. I shushed her, gesturing towards the stairs. She toned her enthusiasm down and bit her lower lip to stay quiet, though she remained unabashed in her excitement to witness my son's size for herself.

I pinched the shoulder of her knee-length jacket and arched an eyebrow. "Why exactly are you wearing this thing? You're aware it's summer, right?"

Her eyes rolled so far back the whites of her eyes threatened to eclipse her vision. "Oh please, I have more on my mind than the weather. But I didn't want to walk around wearing

this

." Before I could ask what "this" was, Caitlin peeled off her top layer and my eyes jumped from my skull.

Underneath her jacket was a shockingly revealing dark black full-piece bathing suit that did next to nothing to hide her body from prying eyes. Ample cleavage threatened to spill out from the skintight garment, though her bulging ass cheeks were in competition to escape first.

I had always teased Cait that she looked like Katy Perry would have if she'd opted to have kids fresh out of university, with just enough of (what I affectionately referred to as) the "Mommy-pudge" that came with having children.

Admiring how she fit herself into something so small caused me to miss the diamond cut out in the fabric over her tummy, exposing her belly button and pushing the tiniest bit of mommy pudge through the hole. This wasn't from her usual wardrobe; she never wore anything this revealing unless she was trying to impress somebody, which she hadn't for many years.

Caitlin had always been a fair bit taller than me, and her proclivity towards high heels didn't help. Even now, in open-toed flats, she managed to look down on me, which is expected of an older sibling, but I had my own advantages over her.

My breasts were too large to be considered "modest." It ran in our family, a famous complaint of our mother, but we learned to work with what we had. What Caitlin had, against all sensibility, were a pair of breasts even larger than mine. Perhaps her taller frame permitted them to grow so impressively. She'd sacrificed some of their pertness after having children, whereas I managed to retain a subtle bit of perk that most mothers have to say goodbye to when they start breastfeeding.

Caitlin was one of those mothers, but she was far from upset about it. She would argue, often, that hers were the better pair. They swung low, not quite to her belly button, but low enough that when she bent over, she could get them impressively close to the floor without falling over. It was next to impossible to contain them in a commercially available bra, so seeing her with nothing but a weak bathing suit to hold them back meant they would likely escape if she wasn't careful.

Though her outfit didn't show it, her two jiggling mounds were capped with dark, puffy nipples, compared to my bright pink ones, with slightly larger areolas. The suit mainly served to accentuate her curvy figure and make her booty, hidden underneath laughably small denim shorts, look much bigger than mine, even though I remained the reigning booty-queen of our duo. I cursed myself for not wearing something sexier, but a quick self-assured pat of my rounded, pear-shaped bum alleviated those woes.

"Like what you see?" she said, brushing a strand of dark brown hair over her ear and feigning ignorance, posing like a traditional pin-up girl against the doorframe.

I hadn't even realized I was staring, but quickly averted my eyes under scrutiny, blushing profusely. "You

know

I do." My gaze unconsciously wandered back to her. "Those aren't your shorts."

"Right you are!" She stuck a thumb under the waistband and showed what little room she had to squirm around in. "They're Allie's."

"I don't think I'd be able to fit into Lucy's clothes." To be fair, Caitlin was hardly fitting into hers, either. Her bum was peeking out from under the garment, looking for attention now that they were given a chance to breathe. "They don't look all that comfortable."

"They really aren't, but I didn't wear them for my own enjoyment." She reached around her sizable backside and jiggled the exposed flesh, ripples moving beneath her shorts.

I momentarily forgot why I invited my sister over, but it all came rushing back in a bout of mild panic. My entire night had been spent anticipating her arrival, but now that she was standing in my foyer, I was aware of how peculiar our situation was. "I didn't tell him you were coming over."

"Should you have?" She strode further into the house with me hot on her heels. "He would have said yes, so we might as well surprise him."

"I guess so." I tried not to let the anxiety seep into my words, but Caitlin knew me well enough to catch it. She shot me a knowing look as I searched for comfort. "I'm not overreacting, am I?"

"Soff, baby, you have nothing to worry about." Her tone was soft and reassuring. "I know we haven't been...intimate in a while, but I really miss you, and I miss Sean, too."

"I hate that--"

"Word," she said, finishing my sentence. "I know you do, but it's true. I don't even remember what your pussy looks like, let alone your tits." She reached out and cupped the latter, rubbing her thumbs across my clothed nipples until tingles woke me up from the inside out. "Let's just...hang out for the day, and see where it takes us?"

My nerves subsided a little bit. Caitlin always knew how to talk me down, and truth be told, she was right. I was paranoid for all the right reasons--inviting my sister over to tag team my son was certainly unfamiliar territory--and I hadn't given myself more than a day to consider the repercussions. I didn't really imagine anything would go wrong, but my worries persisted despite the assurance of my instincts.

I changed the subject to keep myself distracted. "So, you dressed like...

that

, just to come 'hang out', is that right?" Now it was my turn to arch my brow with suspicion.

"I dressed like

this

because I don't want to look like his aunt if I'm going to let your son fuck me."

"If?"

She paused. "You're right: when. Speaking of

when

..."

I waited for her to finish, but she must've thought I caught her implication. "When what?"

Cue a second eye roll. "Your bum, remember? You promised! Is that still a

when?

Or has it been downgraded to an

if?

"

Fuck. I forgot.

"I'm...well, uh, I'm not really sure." This was true. I knew that I had promised her, and vicariously my son, entry to my backdoor. Caitlin's state did not waver, prompting further honesty. "I'm nervous. Nobody has been back there since...well, you."

"Nobody?"

"I don't count Donald," I spat dryly. "We've only done it twice, and I haven't enjoyed it with anyone since you." Even with Caitlin at the helm, I wasn't the biggest fan of having my bum explored. Truthfully, knowing how intensely most men loved anal gave me incentive to let my son try at least once, but it was a lie to say I was worry-free.

"Sean isn't Donald, and you know that. Donald barely helped raise the kid. Lucy has more of him in her than Sean does. Your boy is all you--be proud of that."

I blushed almost as much as I had seeing Sean naked, and I was grateful for it. "Thank you, Caitlin. Can we just sit for a minute? I don't wanna wake Sean up yet. I imagine he's pretty tired."

"I could go for a tea." She plopped down on the sofa. "You have quite the adventure to tell me about. Care to spill?"

With the kettle on and two mugs prepped with bags of Earl Grey, I sat on the sofa next to Caitlin. "Where do I even start?"

"At the beginning." Easier said than done. The 'beginning' didn't exactly start the night before.

So I told her how it began. Complete accuracy would be impossible. I was unaware, or unwilling to admit, for a long time that my feelings for Sean did more than confuse me. He was my first child, so I never questioned the way he made me feel, but when Lucy was born, I realized it had always been a different kind of love that I harbored for Sean.

I loved Lucy very, very much, that won't be questioned, but it was not in quite the

same way

I fell in love with her brother. Experiencing strictly parental love for her made me question if I could ignore the way Sean excited me. He made me feel like I was young again, chasing a boy in daydreams as often as in real life, superficially aware that it could never be.

All that changed when Donald, Lucy, and I went on vacation without Sean a number of years ago, I explained. Unable to remove him from my mind, I started sending photos of our trip that had a very 'wish you were here' vibe to them. Before I understood what I was doing, or why, the photos began to take on a life of their own, aching for Sean's attention for reasons I could not explain.

I took to adding flirty captions, posing in ways a sother shouldn't, and sending them directly to him instead of tagging them on Facebook. I told myself I was just having fun; we had always been a tad flirty but without analyzing why that was. I ignorantly assumed it was how any sother would behave in my shoes. If I had taken a moment to consider my actions, I may have seen what my brain was subconsciously vying for, but instead I was complacent in pretending we had a normal relationship.

The change of dynamic was not lost on Sean. His responses became more verbose, his replies quicker and more frequent until I was essentially spending the whole trip in a PG-13 sexting haze with my son. Nothing we did ever crossed the line, so I thought nothing of it, until one night a fiendish idea crossed my mind.

Before we began to drift, my wearing a bikini all day was a constant turn-on for my Husband. He took more revealing photos of me in that short week than he ever had, before or since. One particularly engrossing photo was known to rev his engine, so I saved it to my phone in case I ever needed a secret weapon.

The need for such a weapon came when I was feeling under the weather one night. Not wanting to halt the festivities, I opted to stay in while Donald went to a bar with a couple of the other husbands we had met on our trip. Lucy was off with some guy, leaving me all alone with my thoughts. I wouldn't say I'm immune to jealousy, so halfway through the night I wanted to send Donald that particular photo just to get a rise.

At the sound of the kettle I filled our mugs, setting the tea to steep. I went on.

Staring at my phone, I told her, message loaded and ready to fire, I succumbed to my routine of the week. Before I had even typed Donald's name in the "To:" line, my fingers took charge and put in Sean's name instead. While I initially laughed off the mix-up, a moment of reflection elicited strange, unmotherly emotions that I wasn't strong enough to shake.

A teeny, insignificant voice pleaded with me to reconsider, but my mind was made up. I internally promised myself to play it off like an accident, though it was anything but. I sent my son a photo clearly displaying a healthy portion of my vagina and most of my bottom, stained with recently acquired tan lines, and both my breasts hanging heavy from my chest as I bent over. It was one of the sexiest photos I'd ever seen of myself--and Sean should have never seen it.

But if he hadn't, we wouldn't be

here,

would we?

"Wow." Caitlin was (almost) speechless, both hands wrapped around the mug she had yet to drink a single drop from. "One photo is all it took, huh?"

I shrugged. Knowing my sister so often craved attention, no insult meant, now that I had hers undivided, I made good use of it. I sipped my tea. "Hard to say. I don't know when he started feeling like I was more than just his mother, but that photo seems like the thing that made the biggest difference."

Caitlin bit her lip again, this time likely unaware she was doing so. "Speaking of, uh,

big

differences, does he take after his Father?"

I tried, I really did, but I couldn't hold back a hearty chuckle. "Absolutely not, and thank God, right? Do you remember, and I mean this was years ago so it's fine if you don't, but do you remember that night--"

"When we saw Dad's dong?" Caitlin was fully aware of my point and cut me off, all but foaming at the mouth as she did. "It was a sleepover, right? I kinda feel bad for the other girls there, but when he gets that drunk, he doesn't notice

anybody

. Not even his daughters."

"Or our many, many friends."

"Friends that love to tease, evidently. They didn't let that go for

years

." She took her first sip of tea and scrunched her nose. "Not sure what there was to tease about; if Sean has half the package he did, I'll be a very happy auntie."

A brief silence unfolded and I wanted to give Caitlin a chance to process, so I nodded my head towards her mug. "Cold?" I asked, grabbing her cup.

I placed my empty cup on the side table and took hers to the microwave. Our house is open-concept, so as the buttons beeped on the machine, I only had to raise my voice a touch to call to my sister. "And how would you feel if he was, perhaps, a bit bigger than Dad was?"

"Shut

up!"

Rapid footsteps approached the kitchen. Caitlin popped her head around the corner, eyes like frisbees. "Don't play games with me, Soff. That's a tall order to fill."

"

Fill

being the understatement of the year." I sheepishly nodded down towards my lower half.

"Oh my God, okay,

please

shut up? If you aren't going to wake him, you're going to have to distract me, like, fucking ASAP." Caitlin was joking, but not entirely.

"I mean, look, it was dark when we saw Dad, but Sean is...I've seen it up close." That wasn't enough for her; she was eagerly waiting for the conclusion to that thought. "And he's large, to say the least."

Caitlin clasped her hands together and held them to her chest with a glow that suggested she'd just been asked to prom. "Oh, thank

God

he is, I didn't wanna drive all the way out here for anything less than average--I've got that at home in spades."

"So, you just have no qualms about cheating on your husband? That's not...weird to you?"

"Extremely weird," she said, nodding, "but that didn't stop you, did it? Sometimes you have to do things for the greater good."

"The greater good, meaning..."

Through her shorts Caitlin patted her clam. "The greatest good there is!" She set her mug down; it brandished the red lipstick mark of a single sip. "It's way too hot for this stuff, can we go outside? I didn't wear this

just

because it makes me look good."

With a half-hearted glance to the stairs to confirm Sean was still asleep, I stood up and shuffled Caitlin out of her seat. "Fine, fine, go wait outside while I rinse these out."

"I'm not waiting! It's crazy hot out there, your pool is calling to me." She closed her eyes in wistful thought. "Come find me when you're changed."

I looked down at my outfit, tugging on the loose-fitting shirt I'd hastily thrown on that morning. "What's wrong with this? I think I look okay."

"Is

okay

the height of your standards?" We both knew it wasn't, but I lacked the forethought to wake up dressed to impress. "I get that he's already seen what's underneath, but men love unwrapping their presents. Put a bow on it."

"I think I jumped the gun already." I twisted a rope of hair around my middle finger. "Showing up to his room undressed seemed presumptive, so I made sure his, uh, 'gift' was wrapped."

"Stop teasing me with details like that if you aren't gonna wake him up--you're torturing me." Cait pranced out the door, entrancing me with her butt jiggle, humming the chorus to "California Gurls" to herself as she went.

I dumped the mugs in the sink, which took all of eight seconds, but even a fraction of that spent thinking to myself risked seclusion in my own thoughts. Shaking my head didn't correct my bearings, but I refused to overthink the situation I'd put myself in any longer.

Dammit, Sophie, you'd better be ready for this.

I stroked my brow and forced my body to calm down. With my center found, I unstuck my clammy feet from the tile and headed upstairs. I hadn't spoken to my son since our encounter, and I realized I was nervous to see him again. They were giddy, happy nerves that filled my gut with butterflies.

Each step towards the second floor was methodical, slowly closing the distance between me and my (presumably) sleeping son. Short of breath, yet determined, I paid no mind to the sickening creaks of the hardwood stairs beneath my toes.

My quick breathing did little to subside my anxiety, and, standing directly outside his bedroom, my stomach churned in anticipation of our impending reunion.

The slow groan of Sean's door was even louder than the steps, or so it felt. It was loud enough to mask the sound of his lumbering snores, giving me just enough confidence to close the door behind me and tiptoe towards the foot of his bed.