Pairs of Pumpins #10: the Embrace of Disgrace (2/3)

Part Two-A Flood of Fornication

Month of Adonnamoon, Day 18. Fadak.

They woke to the sound of trumpets in the streets, some ways away. A dissonant melody that relented occasionally to leave room for a herald to shout at the top of their lungs, unintelligibly at first but each repetition grew closer and more clear.

Portia sat up, remembering where she was and what she'd done, and that the trickle of cool semen oozing out of her, was from her son. Her stomach sank with shame while her blood surged with foul excitement. Not now. Her ears perked as she tried to make out the words. Soon the heralds were on their waterfront street.

"They started the city lockdown. So much for rescuing Bowen or Sienna anytime soon. Or getting anywhere at all."

"All the gates are locked down," Jasper replied, half-awake, rolling from his side to his back. "If it's as contagious as they say, it's for the best. You rescued me just in time."

"Lucky you," she turned to him. He was positioned awkwardly, with his hand resting on an arm, with the other casually resting on his morning erection, looking even bigger than last night. It trapped her gaze and imagination while her loins surged back to readiness.

After a long sigh, her eyes darted up to his. "Did you come with me because you knew this was going to happen?"

Jasper shook his head. "I had no idea, honestly! I only read your mind enough to know that you were telling the truth. I can't see the future."

She nodded, then shook her head. "I can't believe I'm doing this. Are we just going to have depraved, incest sex this whole time?"

"Would that be so bad?" his grin swelled into a chuckle. "No! I want to know all about you and your adventures. Our family. My brothers and sisters. But you're just so beautiful. I can't concentrate. And you? I think you need to do this a few more times so you can stop feeling guilty about it."

She shook her head with a coy grin and reached over, guiding his length upright. He was so long that she didn't have to adjust her posture much to bring her mouth to it. "Well, blowjobs don't count as sex so it's not really incest either. That's how that works, right?"

"Whatever you say, Mom."

​That word from his mouth did more to her body than it should to any sane woman. She was too horny to think straight.

Nostrils flared, drinking in the pungent, lingering cocktail of last night's sex, then her muzzle came to his tip, her tongue poking free in careful, exploratory laps. Her eyes found his, slack-jawed and transfixed on the scene. It encouraged her more, the wonder in his eyes so much more appreciative than men her age. Her mouth parted, opening wider and descending on her son's erection until her jaw was challenged by his girth long before its length.

The heralds and trumpets grew closer outside. The criers could be made out now. "THE CITY IS ON LOCKDOWN ON ACCOUNT OF PLAGUE. STAY IN YOUR HOMES UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE."

"I don't think that's going to be a problem," he chuckled and guided her up by her shoulders, bringing them muzzle to muzzle, then kissing again, the scent of yesterday's sex fresh on her face. "I want to cum on your big tits, Mom," he groaned and reached down, finding her every bit as ready as him.

She slowly withdrew with a wet smack of her mouth. "Ok, but I need you to fuck me again first."

He eased her to lay on her back and then moved over her, peppering her flesh and fur with kisses. A delicate hand held her cheek before he came face to face with her, staring into her eyes with a boyish smile. Below, his body and free hand shifted clumsily and blindly, adjusting himself until he found her waiting folds then jammed himself in.

She gasped, suddenly so incredibly full. She huffed a laugh at the corners of her hanging open mouth. "Now this part is definitely incest."

He was bolder this time, rough, driven and selfish like a man beyond his years. Young eyes transfixed on the direct effect of the violence of his hips on the quaking of her breasts and fucked like he was trying to bruise her pelvis.

It didn't matter to Portia. Nothing she'd experienced was better than fucking her children and she was going to have to live the rest of her life knowing that. Any pain or discomfort from such a disgraceful act was both deserved and worth it.

She was squirming in her second orgasm just before he pulled out and slung rope after hot, thick rope of semen onto her chest, face, hair and the mattress behind them. His heavy testicles did not disappoint in volume, making a potent mess of the scene. He came for longer than most men, after which he collapsed beside her on the bed, cuddling into her arms, his heavy cock softening as it lay across her stomach.

"We should be saving water. Who knows how long this might last," Portia said with a sigh, looking down at herself and licking her lips clean.

Silence followed for some time before her son lifted his head from her shoulder, still panting, with an alarming concern in his eyes. It was enough to capture her attention. "Was I better than Joseph?"

The vixen laughed. "My sons competing to see who fucks their mother better? You really are my kids. It doesn't work like that, though. You're both amazing. Two virgins that beat anything I've ever experienced. And I've experienced a lot."

"Did I last as long as he did?"

"I don't know Jasper. That was a very specific circumstance. We were stuck."

"I just don't know how long it's supposed to go. I feel like I should be wearing you out more."

Portia chuckled. "I've spent twenty years adventuring, exercising, fighting and fucking. You're a teenager and live in a castle. Don't think that because you're a man and I'm a woman you're going to outlast me! Once you satisfy your partner, it doesn't matter and I assure you, I am satisfied."

Jasper looked down at himself and rested his hand on his belly. "I'm out of shape, aren't I? I'd never make it as a hero, like you."

He was soft and undefined, even for his age, with gangly limbs and bulk in his midsection. It made sense for someone with a life as cushy as his had been, though her own Royal family had been quite disciplined in the way they ate, in their constant need to punish and inhibit themselves.

"I can help you with that if you want but being an adventurer is a lot more than physical fitness."

"I always just figured, with my leg..."

"Right. What would I know about overcoming a physical impediment?" she jabbed, twisting just enough to bump his muzzle with an enormous breast. "You think these aren't a detriment to my adventuring career? You see a bow anywhere in my things?"

He perked up. "Sex is good exercise, isn't it?"

She smiled and nodded. "It is. But if you want to get in shape, we're going to need to train. And this is the perfect time to do that because what else are we going to do?"

"Well..." he gave a guilty smile and his gaze dropped to his cock, hidden behind the wall of her bosom. He flexed it, tapping the bottoms of her breasts. It wasn't soft anymore.

"Jasper..."

Month of Adonnamoon, Day 21. Predak.

"You can't keep us inside! This is tyranny!"

Portia sat up quickly in bed at the commotion, naked and a mess from three days of nonstop, explosive, incestuous sex with her teenage son. They'd heard a few other clashes with the city watch from an indistinguishable distance but this one was close. The small windows of the safehouse lit the room in the grayish-yellow of dawn by the ocean.

"You need to be quarantined, Miss. You're not well."

Another voice bellowed with authority and muffled by a mask. It sounded like they were in front of the house.

"I'll do as I wish!" the woman protested. It was feminine but something was off about it, even through the glass.

Portia grabbed the shortsword she kept perched against the nightstand and went to the window. At least ten soldiers surrounded a woman at a distance and all of them were armed with long pikes, like spears more than twice their height. They were weapons better suited for defending a fortress wall than street skirmishes. That was a change for the Stusport City Watch but not as much as their uniforms.

They had adopted new, full-body fatigues of glossy black, oiled skins from head to toe, with their armor plates worn over top. Their faces were concealed completely in hoods that made it difficult to tell one species from another, with brass housings around glass lenses over the eyes. The suits appeared to be airtight.

The closest of them, she could only see their feet, with their boots sealed to their pant legs but over the ones further away, she could see they had a flexible, snorkel tube rising twice as high as their upright pikes, their ends hung from individual balloons that kept them high in the air.

One of the closer guards took a step to the side and it gave her a better view of the woman, a golden-furred cougar of middle-aged. Her hunched and shaky posture alone made clear she was unwell but it was clearer still when Portia noticed the green ooze dripping from her nostrils and mouth, down her chin and jaw.

Was that what the plague did to people?

Portia winced as the woman coughed violently and more vileness escaped her.

"Last chance, ma'am. You're endangering everyone being out here."

"I'd rather die than go back inside!"

"Do it!" Another voice commanded. It was hard to tell who was speaking with all of their faces covered but only one of them attacked, running her through the chest with his pike.

"AGAIN!"

The soldier obliged, stabbing her repeatedly, freeing more ooze than blood from within her skin until she collapsed, pathetic and lifeless. Only then did the others raise their weapons that had not yet touched her.

"DISPOSE OF YOUR WEAPON!"

The pikeman lowered the tip to the ground and then stomped on it, snapping it in half. They gathered up both pieces at their base and threw them on the corpse. The circle parted then and two more, suited-up but unarmored figures jogged in with casks. They were smaller than the soldiers, perhaps squires or other young trainees. They liberally poured oil all over the body and broken pike, then withdrew from the gathered soldiers.

A third, even smaller figure came through the gap they made, carrying a burning torch. He was afraid to get too close and almost missed when he tossed it. The pool has spread on the cobblestone and lit easily, engulfing the remains of the woman.

"What happened to her? The kid with the torch is terrified. All of them are." Jasper had come up beside her and stood on his toes to see outside.

"I guess that's what the infection does to people. They're dressed like it's highly contagious and airborne, but heavier than air. We can't open these doors or windows at all. Make sure nothing is blocking the chimney."

He nodded and did so while Portia ran from small window to small window, ensuring they were closed.

"Chimney is clear, Mom!" Jasper was standing in the middle of the room when she turned back around. He cleared his throat and his facade softened. "I'm scared."

She stepped over to him, pulling him into her arms.

"Me too, Jasper. I'd been wondering how bad it was and if we should make a break for it. I'm not doing anyone any good locked up in here."

He slipped back to hold her elbows and looked up at her with intense, sincere eyes under his ridiculous haircut. "I don't think we should go anywhere."

She nodded. "We'll stay here until it's safe."

"If it's airborne, do you think it already got it in?"

"I think we'd be sick already if it did."

"What about from her?"

She looked back to the window.

"If we're going to die, I'm glad it's with you, Mom."

She turned to him, feeling him swelling up against her. She cupped his muzzle in her hands.

"Well, we're not dead yet." She pulled their bodies together in a passionate kiss.

​

Month of Adonnamoon, Day 27. Vindak.

Portia slipped out of bed without stirring Jasper for the first time, nearly a week into their isolation. It reeked of sweat and sex in the small, basement room, largely from a lack of circulation but also their conservation-minded hygiene and just how often they were after each other. Mouths, pits and privates were being washed regularly but her face, chest and hair bore the crusty, matted scars of all the times her son had cum on them.

He seemed to appreciate his handiwork but the mess was enough that her downy breast fur wasn't soft anymore but sharp and crispy and more than once, they'd gotten momentarily stuck together. It was at once disgusting, but also a monument to the depths of her depravity: an accumulation of what must've been several pints of incestuous semen by now and at least twice as much had been pumped inside her.

There was a hobble to her walk as she made her way from window to window, opening them all. There had not been a moment of restraint. Why should there be? The line had been thoroughly and irrevocably crossed and they could die any day. Why did it matter how often she had sex with her son, with a dying ember of desire and decency to ever stop?

His appetite was ravenous and unrelenting, the force of nature of a teenage libido crashing into unlimited access to an eager and experienced, older woman. Throughout the days and nights, it was hopeless to count but he was getting months or years of sexual experience in a single week. He'd gone from a boy to a man, to an experienced man and skilled lover, from both repetition and expert guidance. Or maybe she just thought so, since it was so easy to begin with.

She hadn't once told him "no" or even "I need a break." At first, it had been the urge to punish herself and wallow in the depravity of it all. She was a bad person doing bad things who deserved any discomfort. The most she'd done to help ease her challenges was introduce him to lubricant after their first, difficult experience with anal sex.

Beneath the excuses, she knew she wanted it every bit as much as he did and she welcomed the challenge. She couldn't help the self-satisfied elation when she finally wore him down for any amount of time.

As it became more normal for her, a familiar spark of her old self had grown and the idea of denying him sounded like weakness to the competitive vixen. She was more than twice his age but she could keep up. She needed him to adore and admire her unconditionally. She had to be the superior. She couldn't let him get the best of her and now, a week later, there wasn't much left they hadn't done that could happen between consenting lovers. Most every act in an amorous lifetime of promiscuity, she'd now repeated in nine days with her own child.

To make it all worse, the guilt-ridden tossing and turning of the last few months was waning. She'd never slept better. Even when Jasper would wake her in the middle of the night for more rough and selfish relief from some overnight erection, she'd easily fall back to sleep in his arms afterward. It scared her, how easily it had become natural.

There was dried cum on most of her body but only the small of her back was as especially thick as it was on her breasts. Her hips, pelvis, jaw and asshole were all sore from his size and eagerness but one nagging thread that was in decline was any guilt over what she was doing. Jasper knew everything and it hadn't done anything to quench his fire for her.

Between the marathon of sex, he had taken up her offer for an exercise routine and they'd been at that several times a day, the vixen making sure to ease her son into it and not injure him. He wasn't in great shape but was committed to it, even agreeing to portion his meals to see results faster.

Portia peered out the sealed window, onto the desolate street and the calm water of the river delta beyond. She desperately wanted to feel the cool, salty air blow through her fur, like she had so many times before. The scent of it all came back to her and it was strange to see the sea so empty. She wondered if or how the fishing fleets were operating.

There had been no news other than the criers coming around every few days to declare the city was still on lockdown from the lethal plague. The day after the incident they'd witnessed with the cougar, they declared that arrest could not be risked and violations would be punishable by death, followed by burning of the dead in the streets. Townsfolk learned quickly to oblige.

One of the days, fliers had been left on windows with simple symbols and pictograms that assumed some level of illiteracy but also, text. It presented a system of signals that explained how households could ask for help and have food or water dropped off. Medical attention would not be administered. They were on their own.

There was no word if the virus had spread beyond Stusport and she wondered if her children were still safe in Zentia, with Booker. She thought of Bowen and Sienna, and how in the aftermath of this, what state she would find them. Her thoughts wandered then to Zhang, Darcy, Sebastian and the rest of the cast of this once-bustling city and how they would fare.

"They're going to be okay, Mom." She turned to see Jasper had woken up and sat on the edge of the bed, his arousal standing up into his chest fur.

"What did I tell you about reading my mind?"

"Right. Sorry. You seemed troubled, is all."

"Do people in the Castle react well to you reading their minds all the time?"

"I try to be more discreet about it with them. Only Father and Mother know... my adopted Father and Mother, I mean. They and a few of their closest advisors. I have to hide it around everyone else."

"How do they react, Jasper?"

He sighed. "Not good, I guess. I wouldn't say I have a lot of friends. Or, any really."

"You can read people's minds but you don't use that to find out what people want? I thought that would make you great at making people like you."

Jasper frowned and shrugged. "They think I'm a know-it-all. Some of them treat me badly because I'm not of royal blood. Some think I'm fat and ugly and the girls sometimes think I'm creepy. I'm glad you found me," he said, standing up and hurrying into her arms, his hands falling to her rump, squeezing.

"Are you a know-it-all? Are you just using your power to be right?"

He gave a small shrug. "Why shouldn't I?"

"Because it makes people not like you. If you have to use it at all, why not try to use it to find out what people need and help them get it?"

She took his wrists and eased his hands back to his sides. "Are you creepy? With the girls?"

He shrugged and shook his head. "They just don't like me."

She was not convinced. "And there's nothing about your behavior you can change to improve that?"

He reached out again, pulling her closer. "Mom, I'm horny!"

She pushed away and stepped back. "Gods, what am I teaching you?"

He swallowed visibly and turned away to hide the glistening of his eyes. She started toward him but stopped herself. He had to learn.

"Look Jasper: the way people think of you isn't entirely under your control but it's not out of your control either. If you're not listening, trying to help them or caring about what they want, fewer people are going to like you. And that's especially true for girls that you like."

She stood up from the bed and moved to sit at the small dining table. He lifted his head to watch her walk away, slack-jawed.

She sighed. "I'm so stupid. I thought I was corrupting you by having sex with you. All grossness around that aside, we're at least consenting adults. I didn't realize I've been corrupting you by needing it so badly. By giving you everything you want. You may be a drug and I may be an addict but you're probably never going to find another woman like that. You shouldn't want a woman like that. None of what is happening here between us is how any of this actually works."