Three Sons

Three Sons (Part 2)

Kathryn M. Burke

As Jenny prepared dinner for her three sons, she made a futile attempt to pretend that her encounter with James hadn't really happened.

As her two other sons, Peter and Daniel came home, things returned to the chaotic state that was all too customary for a household with three rambunctious young men. Usually, Jenny enjoyed watching and listening to her boys yakking away over dinner—on sports, on the funny or annoying things that had happened at their workplaces, or whatever—while contributing little to the conversation herself. Today she was unusually quiet, although she did exchange significant glances with James from time to time.

Peter didn't notice his mother's change of temperament, but Daniel did. He stared at her repeatedly over dinner. At one point he even asked, "Are you okay, Mom?"

"I'm fine, dear," she said shortly.

Daniel continued to give her a keen glance. "You seem a little flush, Mom. Do you have a fever?" He was sitting close enough to her that he was able to reach out and place a hand on her forehead.

Jenny brushed the hand away peremptorily. "I'm

fine,

okay? I'm just a little overheated. That's what slaving over a hot stove during summertime will do to a woman."

This was just one of numerous veiled criticisms that Jenny was in the habit of making as a pointed suggestion that her boys should help more around the house. Daniel somehow sensed that there was more to it than that, but he didn't pursue the matter.

After dinner, James was keen on having a serious talk with Peter, so he barged into Peter's bedroom and told him to sit on the bed while he settled down in an easy chair. Peter was the runt of the family—only five foot six—but quite powerful and stocky. He could at times seem a little slow mentally, and he was pretty shy and nervous around strangers. James peered closely at him as Peter gazed back with an air of apprehension. He'd always been intimidated by his older brother, even though he was only a year younger than James.

"What's up, bro?" Peter said.

James remained silent for a time, not sure how to broach the delicate subject. Then he just decided to come out with it.

"I slept with Mom," he said.

Peter gave his brother a baffled look.

You took a nap with our mother?

James rolled his eyes. Could his brother really be so dense? Slowly and precisely he said: "I had sex with Mom, guy."

Peter's reaction was far more extreme than even James expected. He almost did a somersault on the bed, writhing around as if someone had stabbed him in the stomach.

"Man, you can't do that!" he cried. "She's our

mom,

for God's sake!"

"I know that, you dummy," James replied unkindly.

"But—but why? You're not supposed to do that! It's against the law, I think."

"Yeah, that may be. But I'm sure you've noticed that Mom hasn't been feeling so well after Dad left. She's been moping around as if the world's coming to an end."

"Yeah, I know." And Peter himself put on a glum face.

"So I was just trying to make her feel better." Suddenly James got real intense, coming over to his brother and glaring down at him. "Listen, guy, you don't really know much about girls, but I know that women of Mom's age need regular sex to feel right. If they don't get it, they start feeling crabby or irritable or depressed. I'm pretty sure that's what Mom's going through. Also, she turned forty a few weeks ago."

"I know that. So what's the big deal?"

"Maybe she's starting to feel old."

"She's not old! She looks—well, she looks fabulous!"

"Sure, she does. But that milestone—turning forty—is a big deal for some people. Especially since Mom isn't going out on dates and doesn't have anyone to tell her how fabulous she is."

"We can do more of that."

"Yes, we can—and we can show it too. That's what I just did. And that's what you're going to do."

"Me?"

Peter squawked. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," James said almost menacingly, "that you're going to get into bed with her next."

"I don't know if I can. She's our

mom!"

"You don't have to keep saying that. Just think of her as a beautiful and desirable woman who wants your attention."

James paused abruptly and frowned at his brother. "You know how to make a girl happy?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Do you know"—again he spoke slowly and precisely—"how to make a girl come?"

Peter blushed crimson. "Kind of."

"Kind of? Have you actually done it with a girl? Have you ever had sex with a girl at all?"

"Yeah."

"You have?" James said, surprised. "I've never seen you go out with anyone."

Peter was now looking at his hands. "It was—it was at the hardware store."

"You had sex with a girl in the hardware store?"

"No, no! Not

in

the hardware store. You see, there's this woman, Mrs. Stevenson—she's a regular customer at our store. So she comes in one day and wants a lot of mulch—and she wants it delivered. This was a few months ago, back in June. She asked my boss if I could deliver it: she seemed pretty insistent on having me do the job. So he said yes, and I went over there on a Saturday morning to drop off the mulch."

"You don't work on Saturdays."

"I know that—but I didn't mind. What else do I have to do? Anyway, when I got there she said she'd like me to spread the stuff around various places in her front and back yard where she had flowers and things. So I said sure. It was a pretty hot day, and I was just wearing a T-shirt and denim shorts. I could see that she was watching me pretty carefully while I was working—I guess to make sure I was doing it right.

"Well, after it was over she said, 'Wanna drink to cool off?' That sounded pretty good to me, so we went into the kitchen and she poured out some fruit punch. It was really nice and cool and sweet—but again, she just watched me drink it. The way she was looking at me was a little strange."

"Kind of—predatory, would you say?" James said, knowing where this story was heading.

"I guess you could say that. Then she said something that really floored me.

"'Your clothes are all dirty. Take them off and let me wash them.'

"I just sat theree at her kitchen table, gawking up at her. My clothes really weren't all that dirty, although I guess I'd sweated a bit handling all those big bags of mulch. I said, 'Ma'am, that's okay'—but she just started tugging at my T-shirt to get it off.

"'I'm going to do some laundry anyway, so I might as well do your things along with mine. Let me do your shorts too—and your underwear.'

"'My underwear!' I cried out. 'You don't really need to do that.'

"She just glared at me, so I figured there was no way around it. But I wasn't going to strip right in front of her! I guess she knew that, so with a kind of annoyed sigh she said, 'I'll get you a robe to wear while your things are in the wash.'

"She went to her bedroom—she lives in this ranch-style house, so everything's on one floor—and came back with a thin robe. She almost threw it at me. I put it on, and then turned my back to her while I peeled off my shorts and underwear. Then I handed them to her.

"She put the things in the wash, along with the clothes she was wearing. So now she was also wearing just a robe—almost see-through, if you ask me. And when she sat down at the kitchen table, the robe seemed to come apart, because she hadn't tied the sash very well. I could see—well, you can guess what I could see."

"Was she good-looking?" James asked.

"Yeah, sure. Not a beauty, like Mom, but not bad at all."

"How old is she?"

"Oh, I figure she's a little older than Mom."

"All right, then what happened?"

"I think she noticed me staring at her chest, where the robe was coming apart. So with this little glint in her eye she said, 'You want a better look?'

"And she stood up and took the robe off and let it fall to the floor. She was naked, man!"

"Would you say she's nicely built?"

"You bet! She has these big boobs that were still pretty high on her chest—no sagging, you know? She wasn't exactly thin, but she had real nice curves around her hips and butt. In fact, she did a little twirl so I could get a look at her front and back.

"I was just sitting there with my mouth hanging open. I mean, what was I supposed to do with this naked woman standing there? Well, she had some ideas of her own. She grabbed my own robe by the lapels and pulled me up to my feet. Then she pretty much dragged me to her bedroom, pulling on the sash like it was a leash.

"When we got to the bedroom, she undid the sash, took the robe off me, and looked me up and down. She seemed to like what she saw, because she nodded to herself and then, looking at my groin, said, 'Not bad.'

"She flopped down onto her knees and put my cock in her mouth.

"Now I was already getting pretty hard just from seeing her naked, but looking down at her and seeing those lips of hers—she wore bright red lipstick—wrapped around my dick was really exciting! In fact, I was afraid I'd shoot my wad right into her mouth. I know some girls don't like that."

"Some do, some don't," James said sagely.

"Well, I didn't want to make her angry. But after a few minutes she got up and flopped onto the bed, on her back, with her legs wide open. She looked up at me and said, 'You wanna do me?'

"Did I ever! I almost jumped on her, getting my body right between her legs. I first wanted to give those breasts a good squeeze, so I did that. But as I was doing it, my cock somehow seemed to find its way into her pussy all by itself, almost as if it had a homing device and knew exactly where to go.

"Oh, James, that first time entering a girl—well, I know she's not a 'girl,' but you know what I mean—was the most incredible feeling!"

"Yes, I know, bro. Nothing like it."

"I went in deeper and deeper, and it felt like

my whole body was in her!

I was almost dizzy with ecstasy. I was hoping she was having a nice time too—I mean, I don't want to be the only one enjoying myself! But I couldn't tell what she was feeling. She was just looking up at me with this blank expression, a little smile on her face. I kissed her all over, and my hands scoured her body too—I just loved the feel of her breasts and her back and her bottom and anywhere else I could reach. I was pounding her pretty hard now, even though I knew that would make me come faster. I really wanted to be in her forever, but after just a couple of minutes I felt that tingling sensation in my balls that tells you you're ready to explode.

"I shouted in her ear, 'I'm coming!' And I did.

"Man, I must have poured a ton of my stuff into her. She just took it in without saying or doing much of anything. It was almost like she was a sex doll that I was using. So when I finished and pulled out, I rolled off of her and settled down on my back. I looked over to her, and she was just giving this knowing little smile.

"'Did you like that?' I said.

"'Very much,' she said back.

"'But—did you come?' I really wanted to know!

"She gave me a strange sort of look—kind of sorrowful or embarrassed or something. 'No, my dear. But I can come now.'

"So with one hand she started squeezing her breasts, and the other hand went down between her legs. My stuff was already leaking out of her, and one time she scooped up a bunch of it and licked her fingers clean—so I guess she likes eating come! But usually she just rubbed herself all over, sometimes sticking her fingers deep in herself, other times using her fingers to stroke various parts of herself down there. After a while she began breathing hard, and then arching her back. Her tongue stuck out of her mouth, and she looked as if she was all dizzy or something—her eyes were rolling around in her head!

"And then she gave this high-pitched squeal, and the one hand that had been on her breasts began pounding the bed hard over and over—and her legs began shaking like they were being electrocuted. Man, I'd never seen anything like it!"

"Of course you haven't, bro—she was coming."

"Yeah, I guess. It was incredible watching her: I think women get more pleasure out of an orgasm than we do!"

"That may well be."

"Then she just collapsed, like a balloon with all the air let out of it. She looked over at me, her tongue still sticking out of her mouth, but I don't even know if she was even seeing me.

"But she did see something. Just watching her, I'd gotten hard again.

"She raised her eyebrows and said, 'Well, well! Ready for another round?'

"'Yeah,' I said.

"She nodded to herself, as if saying,

Good boy!

But this time she wanted to be on top. She ordered me to lie flat on my back, and then she squatted over my legs. First she just played with my cock a little, rubbing it against her bush—she has a really thick bush."

"So does Mom."

"Really? That's cool! Then she raised herself up a little—and really, really slowly put my cock into herself. It was unbelievable watching that thing disappear into her. It was like a magic trick! Then she began bouncing up and down on my cock, and I loved to see how her breasts jiggled when she was doing that. I reached over and grabbed them, and later I grabbed her butt too. She has a real nice and firm butt.

"I lasted a lot longer this time—maybe ten or fifteen minutes. She began tickling herself when she got the idea that I might be coming—and so we came together. It was great! Again she let out this crazy shriek, tossing her head back and forth while I pumped her full of my stuff. Then she flopped down on top of me, kissing me all over my face and neck.

"I had a feeling I might have been able to do one more, but she was all business now. 'Our clothes need to be put in the dryer,' she announced, and marched down to the laundry room to do what needed to be done. I followed her—and there we were, standing naked while waiting for our clothes to be dry! That was pretty strange. I saw my come leaking out of her pussy, but she made no effort to mop it up. It trickled all the way down her thighs, but she couldn't care less.

"Anyway, our clothes got dry, so I put mine on and left. I gave her a little kiss before I got out of there, kind of like she was my wife and I was going to work. That was pretty cool.

"She made it pretty clear that I should keep on coming over every Saturday morning. So I did. We had lots of fun! I kept—"

"Peter," James interrupted, "this is really important: did she show you how to make a woman come?"

"Actually, she did. I was too embarrassed to tell her I'd been a virgin that first time, and I guess I performed well enough to convince her I wasn't. But I did say I didn't really know much about women's 'parts.' She didn't think that was so odd: lots of guys don't really know how things work down there. So she gave me some up-close-and-personal lessons. She actually had me put my face down there, and she pointed out her labia and clitoris and all that."

"So you started doing her? Making her come, I mean?"

"Sure! It was fun. I tell you, man, she was a wild woman when she came! She—"

"Yeah, yeah, you've told me that before. How about with your mouth?"

"I did that once or twice."

Something in the tone of Peter's voice made James ponder. "You didn't like the taste?"

"I guess not."

"Well, don't worry about it, man. Every woman tastes different. I haven't licked Mom yet, but I bet she tastes real nice."

"I hope so."

"So what happened with this woman? You're not still bopping her, are you?"

"Um, well, no. You see, there was this one Saturday when we were getting it on—and then she heard a car pull into her driveway. Man, did she get scared! She actually pushed me off of her (I was on top) and rushed to the window. When she turned her head, it looked like all the blood had drained from her face—and everywhere else too.

"'Omigod,' she said in this hollow voice. 'My husband's back.'"

"Husband!" James cried. "She's married?"

"Of course! I told you she's Mrs. Stevenson."

"Yeah, but I figured she was divorced or something—maybe even a widow."

"Well, anyway, she started running around like a chicken with its head cut off, trying to tidy up the bed and stuff. She threw my clothes at me and said, 'You need to get dressed and get out of here!' Luckily, I'd been wearing my usual T-shirt and shorts, so it was easy to put them on. In the confusion we couldn't find my underpants, so we just forgot about them. I hope she hid them somewhere good! I rushed out the back door just as her husband was coming in the front door. Man, that was a close shave! But I haven't seen her anymore."

"Good move. It's really bad to get involved with married ladies."

"But I didn't

know

she was married!"

"Okay, fine. But now it's your turn to be with Mom."

"But—but why?"

"You have to help me make her feel better, okay? Not tonight—she's probably pretty sore. Women get sore down there when they've not had it in a while. So it'll be tomorrow. Got that?"

"I guess."

And Peter slinked out of his own room, if only to get away from the imperious James.

*

The night of Peter's rendezvous with his mother came faster than he could believe, and the next thing he knew he was outside the door to her room, wearing only his underwear. James, who was next to him making sure he'd fulfill his side of the bargain, wondered why he didn't just walk in naked, but Peter had some residual modesty and shyness that would have made such an act unthinkable.

"Just get in there," James said, giving him a push in the back. "And remember the stuff I told you." James had given Peter some valuable lessons about how to make love to Jenny in various ways and various positions. To Peter it all sounded like some really difficult final exam that he wasn't sure he would be able to pass.

With a shaking hand Peter opened the door and walked in.

Jenny was sitting on the bed idly leafing through a magazine. Seeing her middle son, she gave him a warm smile and patted the space on the bed next to her, saying, "Lie down here, dear."

The day and a half separating her unexpected copulation with James had left her deep in thought. She couldn't deny that she'd derived a lot of satisfaction commingling with her eldest son: his skill at pleasing women was impressive. But as she mulled over the conventional prejudice against mother-son intimacy, she decided that it was all a matter of perspective: if everyone involved is an adult, what's the fuss? And she also sensed that, once her sons became full-fledged adults who were bigger and stronger than her, her ability to control them would wane. James was definitely the "man of the house" now. Peter and Daniel, in their own ways, still remained under her thumb, but that was changing fast.

She could tell that Peter, shy as he was, was unnerved by his mere presence in a bedroom that he had long believed was off limits to him; but she noticed with some amusement that his distorted underwear told of his anticipatory excitement. He climbed into the bed, eyeing his mom warily, then lay down on his back staring at the ceiling as if preparing himself for an operation where he wouldn't receive any anaesthetic.

Jenny took pity on him. The poor dear was so scared! She stroked his face gently with her hand, and then lowered her face to his and gave him a soft, feathery kiss on the mouth. He just accepted the kiss without responding much, although Jenny did hear a soft little whimper coming from his throat.

She peered at him, then said, "Let's see what you got down here."

And she peeled the underwear off his body.

He was just slightly less well endowed than his older brother—Jenny estimated seven inches. His cock was quivering from the mere fact that it was now exposed to his mother's gaze, to say nothing of where it would end up in a few minutes. Lowering her head again, she took about half of it into her mouth, eliciting a huge gasp from Peter as he gawked at the sight. She worked it in her mouth, using both lips and tongue, placing one hand at the base of the shaft while she tickled his balls with the other.