Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Mother, Son,
Desc: Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Holly Hilton didn't consider her love of sex a problem. True, she had to plan much of her bedtime life around her husband's flight missions. Fortunately, Rick was deployed a lot. Her problem, though, was her twin sons. Identical twins. Rory and Roger. Precocious, nervy. And very observant. Nosy. Curious about her, very curious. Then they hacked her email, found the nude photos that Holly's best friend, Magpie, had taken for her. Hilton told Magpie, "Those little cunts own me."
Holly Hilton told her best friend, Magpie, "Rick will be back next week. I can't wait."
Magpie grinned, "And you can't wait until he's halfway around the world again."
Magpie, Maggie Reynolds, was 40. Petite, dark haired, quick. Quick physically and mentally. Her husband was Brigadier General Pete Marlowe. A big deal in the insulated world of Marine families.
Pete was big in another department -- between his legs. As Magpie and Holly both knew. And appreciated. The General was not only fucking another woman, but a Major's wife. A Major who was technically under his command.
Thanks to his family's political and financial connections, Pete didn't worry much about inconvenient details. Based in D C, he found ample reasons to visit Camp Pendleton. Coincidently, Major Hilton would be in the Middle East. Or Europe. Or Asia.
For the most part, Holly Hilton was pleased with her life. She loved Rick and they had a robust sex life when he was home. Home was La Jolla, about an hour south of Pendleton. No living on base for Holly, thank you very much.
Holly's mother came from, for America anyway, old money. Candy money. Pennsylvania candy money. She'd fallen for Rick when she was 14, married him at 16. Why not? He was handsome. Rugged good looks. A fighter pilot.
Holly was also terminally, cheerfully, unfaithful to him. While they were dating, while they were engaged, while they were married. She had a simple explanation for Magpie, "I like sex."
Holly and Magpie lived three houses apart in La Jolla. They shared more than a neighborhood, they shared a love of sex. Pete knew, vaguely knew, that Magpie didn't strictly adhere to her marriage vows. He just didn't realize how often she strayed. Nor with how many men.
Rick had no clue about Holly. She was always delighted when he returned from overseas. So sad to see him leave.
The ones who most decidedly were not clueless were Holly's twin boys, Rory and Roger. They were identical twins, 14, crafty, and consumed with all thing sexual.
Magpie had a twinkle in her eye. "How was he?"
'He' was Magpie's 20-year old son, Peter IV. Down from UCLA for a long weekend, he'd been fucking Holly for hours. While Holly's twin boys were in school.
Holly loved her sons, loved them deeply. But she often complained to Magpie about The Twins, "The little cocksuckers are putting a real crimp in my sex life."
Magpie was sympathetic. She loved the little guys, but they were nosy. Especially about their sexy mother.
Holly Hilton was tall, 5'10" with lush auburn hair. Slender, wide shoulders, perky boobs. Long, long legs. At 32, she was eight years younger than Magpie. But looked more like 22. Crinkles, not wrinkles around her lively green eyes.
Holly answered Magpie's question about Peter IV, "Magnificent as always. You should try him yourself."
Although Magpie had fantasized about fucking her son, both women knew she never would. Still, Holly liked to fan the flames, "He's almost as big as his father. He must be making some college girls very happy."
"Does he talk about them? Brag?"
"Nope. Wait, he did mention one thing."
"He was fucking me in the ass and said he missed that at school."
Magpie said, "What's wrong with college girls these days?"
There were several problems with The Twins. They were nosy about Holly's sex life. They were, as Holly described them, 'fearless little cunts.' And they were technologically at the genius level.
Holly wasn't sure when they had first hacked her accounts. She'd guessed when they were 10 or 11. They kept quiet about it until they turned 12. They were content to their mother's sex life vicariously.
Then one day The Twins sent their mother a nude photograph. Of herself. Taken by Magpie. Holly was standing in a shaft of sunlight in her La Jolla back yard by the shimmering swimming pool.
Holly freaked and pounded on Magpie's door. She shrieked, "Those cocksuckers hacked my sex life! Fuck me!"
Magpie hugged her friend in sympathy, "What do they want?"
"Who the fuck knows? No message, just the picture."
That night at dinner, neither boy mentioned the nude photo. They talked casually about their day at school. Holly's stomach churned, but she was determined not to let the little cunts see her sweat.
That Saturday morning, out by the same pool, Rory put a hand gently on his mother's right boob. Roger, the left one. Although, truth to tell, it could have been the other way around. By age 6, Holly could no longer tell them apart. It's said that the mother always knows, but Holly didn't.
Rory, or Roger, said, "Holly has great boobs."
Roger, or Rory, said, "You got that right."
Holly slapped Rory, then Roger. Slapped them hard. They just stood there. Exchanged a glance with red handprints on their cheeks.
That afternoon, Holly told Magpie, "I was frozen in shock. Couldn't move. Then I slapped the cocksuckers. Hard..."
"Any more pictures?"
"No, just the one."
"Not yet. But they have them. Have to have them."
Both Holly and Magpie understood there was trouble ahead for Holly. They agreed The Twins wouldn't tell their friends. And certainly wouldn't tell their father.
But they were 12 freaking years old. What did they want?
Holly had always admired herself. Liked spending time in front of mirrors. It was egotistical in a way. But more than satisfaction, Holly assessed herself. Looked for new wrinkles, an extra ounce. A hint that her pinched waist was expanding a fraction of an inch.
Did her tiny bald pussy need a touchup? She and Magpie waxed each other religiously. The General, when he was going back back and forth fucking them, liked to say they had twin pussies.
But beyond the ruthless self evaluation, Holly did enjoy seeing herself in photos and videos. In the buff. And in action.
Her latest favorite was a 40-minute video of Pete IV fucking her in every conceivable position. Holly immediately took a copy over to Magpie. The two friends masturbated as they watched Magpie's son fuck her best friend.
Magpie told Holly, "God, he's a good looking stud."
"It's twisted watching your own son fucking me."
"Yes, isn't it?"
The problem was, of course, if the sex tape was on Holly's laptop, it was on The Twin's laptops.
The Twins waited a week, then emailed their mother a tightly edited 15-second clip. It was primarily one long Holly-orgasm as she fucked Pete IV.
When the boys got home from school, Holly took off her top, put her sons' hands on her boobs. She had surrendered to the inevitable.
Rory, or Roger, said, "I love Holly's tits."
Roger, or Rory, said, "Me too."
A month later Rory and Roger, or Roger and Rory, moved from feeling Holly's boobs to her pussy.
She told Magpie, "I was surprised and not surprised."
"What'd they do?"
""Felt around for my clit. At least they knew that much."
Holly looked straight at her friend, "You know how I am."
Magpie nodded, "They got you off."
"What are you going to do?"
"No idea. No fucking idea."