INTRO: This is Book 2 of the story of the life of Jimmy Taylor and his family. In Book 1 our now 19 year old hero seduced his mother while his father was away on one of his frequent trips to Australia – a trip he made at least three times per year. Over 340 of you voted for the first book – THANKS!
Book 1 ended with the return home of Jimmy's father. And the almost immediate realization by both Jimmy and his mother that they wouldn't be able to honor the pledge they'd made to stop their liaison. They lasted only two days before Jimmy bent her over the kitchen counter and fucked her while Jimmy's dad worked just yards away in his home office.
The final member of the family, eighteen year old Elizabeth Emily Taylor had also returned home from her summer camp the same weekend that her father had arrived home. Although he'd always loved her at first Jimmy simply regarded her as a further obstacle to his ability to make love with his mother. She certainly wasn't on his sexual radar.
Then he looked at her a little more carefully ... Could she possibly be like her mother?
Baltimore: Monday, August 22nd 2011
"Don't honey! We don't have time," mom pled as I pushed her back down onto the couch. "Your father could be back anytime."
In answer I slipped my hands up under her skirt and pushed her legs apart. My head immediately followed my hands. My tongue licked up her inner thigh. By the time it reached mom's sex my fingers had already pushed her panties aside. I could smell her need. Then I tasted it.
"Lizzie might come home," mom groaned as my tongue flicked repeatedly out and onto her clit. "Please honey ... Jiiiimmy ... oh myyyy gaaaawd!" she screamed as her body arched upward off the couch.
She was quivering, her sex open and wet when I finally sat up. Then she simply watched silently as I undid my belt and zipper and slipped my pants down my legs. She was no longer interested in who might burst in on us; her eyes were only interested in the pole that was standing erect between my legs.
"Hurry ... don't tease," she begged as she stretched her legs apart as far as possible, and as I, cock now in hand, slowly ran my cockhead up and down her slit. Then I pushed inside my mother. Into her moist, welcoming sleeve. I was fucking the woman who'd borne me. Ramming my cock mercilessly into the vagina that I'd slid out of some nineteen years earlier. Cuckolding my dad.
And my mother's legs were soon locked around my back as she urged me on. Crying out her need as her fingers and nails raked across my back. She'd needed it as badly as I. It was the second time we'd made love since dad had arrived home three days earlier.
And I've got to tell you that it had nearly killed me having had to listen to my parent's noisy lovemaking over the previous two nights. Sounds that I'd heard night after night growing up, mom's cries of sexual gratification that had been a background noise for me as I'd masturbated alone in my bed during my teenage years.
But now, these sounds of dad fucking my mom were no longer simply erotic titillation for a boy, instead they were now personal. Mom had made those sounds for me for the last six weeks. I hated the fact that it was now my father who was causing them. It was a direct challenge to my manhood.
And so I took it out on mom as I fucked her on the den couch that day. "Who's bigger?" I demanded angrily as I pounded away inside her. Mom, almost gone, just strokes away from her orgasm, said nothing through her groans. I suddenly pulled out!
"Baby ... babeeeeeee," she pled as she tried to pull me back inside her.
"Who's better?" Insistent.
"You are ... Jimmy is ... my handsome son is ... hurry baby ... pleeeeeease," she moaned. In answer I rammed every inch of my throbbing penis back into her cunt. Seconds later my teenage cum was splashing inside mom's spasming pussy.
I was in the shower when my father arrived home thirty minutes later. I didn't see him. And I was lolling on the couch in my sweat pants (and nothing else) in the TV room when my sister showed up an hour later.
Lizzie! I looked up at her in irritation when she plopped down next to me on the couch. In the couple of days she'd been home since returning from her camp counsellors job I'd just come to regard her as another pair of eyes and ears to worry about. Dad being home was bad enough. But now mom and I had to worry about her. And sis could be nosy.
"Hi," she said tentatively. She clearly had been sensing my quasi hostility over the past couple of days. I'd never, ever been mean to her before. I grunted back at her and moved my legs so she'd have some room.
"Are you mad at me?" It was a timid, almost shy question and the voice that delivered it was the voice of the little girl of seven or eight who'd at one time years ago been my best friend. The little girl whose big brother had always looked out for. The little girl who'd always greeted her brother with a smile and total devotion.
"Uh uh," I said as I kept my eyes on the screen.
"Doesn't sound like it," she muttered. There was an unmistakeable teenage girl's sigh in her voice as she said it.
My sister had grown up! And on top of that I had no idea who she was. Which was strange because we'd been the best of friends growing up. Siblings as close together in age as we were - just eleven months separated us – invariably either hate each other or love each other. We'd ended up loving each other. Friends ... companions ... sounding boards for the other ... playmates...
But four years earlier Lizzie had gone away to a private school, one of America's best, but one that was two hundred miles away from our Baltimore home. The months of separation, broken only by vacation visits, Christmas, Thanksgiving and all, had been exacerbated by her having spent one month every summer away at camp the last few years. We'd lost the closeness of our youth. I didn't really know her anymore.
"You know something?" she asked. My eyes flicked from the screen back to her. "I miss you," she said softly.
"I'm right here," I grumbled back brusquely. And immediately regretted my tone. Why was I taking it out on her I asked myself.
"You used to be my favourite person in the world. I could tell you anything." I watched as a tear slid down from the corner of her eye. "I loved you."
There'd been no way I could have rejected that plea! I reached out and put a big brother's arm around her shoulder. "And now, just because you're Miss Private School snob you're too good for me? You prefer those pinheads in blazers and short pants to real men?" I asked as pulled her even closer. She couldn't miss the warmth in my teasing voice.
Lizzie's face exploded into a smiling radiance. "Real men? Yeah, like one of you dumb public school boys would ever have a chance against someone from Phillips Andover or Choate or Hopkins or Lawrenceville or Groton," sis answered with a sneer.
"Whaaaaat? Wimp central? They all sleep three to a bed," I cried. Just like that the teasing tones of our youth had been recaptured.
"They do not!"
"Everyone knows what goes on in the male dormitories at those private schools. It's sick." We were both grinning madly as we teased back and forth.
"Eighty per cent of the graduates of my school go on to an Ivy League University! They don't just drop out like some people I know."
Which was a cheap shot directed at yours truly. By my sister of all people. I'd decided last spring, even after I'd been accepted into two of my sister's wonderful 'Ivy League' schools that I was going to take a Gap year. I'd figured I needed a year off, a year of both some work and some travel, before I went off to university.
My parents hadn't been big supporters of my plan when I'd first sprung it on them. In fact they'd reacted quite hostilely to it and had tried to talk me out of it. But in the end I'd won them around. Sis, being away, had never been involved in the discussion. Now she was tossing in her ten cents worth.
"Keep that up Miss Preppy and your big brother just might put you across his knee and administer a little discipline."
"Yeah right! As if..."
"So you still like your big brother just a little bit do you?"
"I'll always love you," Liz answered as she leaned into me and then planted a big, wet, sloppy kiss on my cheek.
"What, are you crazy?" I asked as I wiped my cheek. Then added, "that is so gross." But I was smiling. And realized I was feeling almost as happy as she looked. And even as we smiled stupidly at each other some corner of my brain recognised that my sister had grown some tits. WTF?
We talked continuously for the next two hours, completely oblivious to the TV images flickering on the screen across the room. We found that there was like a million things we wanted to say to each other, four years of thoughts and ideas that we wanted to catch up on.
I went to bed happy that night. And even the noises that I soon heard emanating from my parents bedroom couldn't irritate me. I'd refound my friend!
"I know! Guess what happened yesterday?" I shrugged my shoulders. It was two nights later. Another conversation with my sister. We'd just spent the day on a family outing to Washington and the Capital.
.... There is more of this story ...