Chapter 23: After

What’s left to say?

Did Jenna and I break some rules along the way? Yeah, we did. Did our parents know? Yeah, I’m sure they did, but what could they do by then? We didn’t make a big deal about it, and we didn’t throw it in anyone’s face, and Jenna’s dad seemed to be able to live with that.

Mom’s sex drive only grew after I started sleeping with Jenna. Not just her appetite for sex, but for the things she had always wanted to do in the bedroom but never could. I had a closet full of ropes, restraints, leashes, paddles, gags, plugs, dildos, hooks, and kinky toys that a son would never expect his mother to buy for him, let alone buy them so he could explicitly use them on her. Insatiable. My mother’s appetite had become insatiable.

Jenna’s appetite was nearly as ferocious as my mother’s, but not as kinky—though that changed when she reached her twenties. Like many couples, Jenna and I ran into some problems during the years I went to college without her. We parted for a time, and I met a few young women who loved having threesomes with a young man and his leashed MILF. I never told them that the leashed MILF was my mother, but I don’t think they would have minded if I had. With all of the incest porn on the internet these days, I’m sure a few of these sluts got wet at the thought of riding family cock (or grinding against some juicy incest twat).

The relationship break was good for Jenna and me. It allowed us to grow as individuals and to realize that there was no one else for us in the world that we’d rather be with for the rest of our lives (outside of family). Sometimes people have to grow apart before they can grow together. I never got to double team Mom with Dad, though his insomnia never went away, so there were times where I did get to share Mom with him, even if he slept through every damn “threesome” we had together.

Jenna found out about us when I decided I was going to ask her to marry me. Mom and I had planned the big reveal before I popped the question, and she took it better than I had expected. She took it so well that she admitted that the only man she had slept with during our break was her own father. (And it turned out that he was very good ... but not as good as me.) He had never forgotten that kiss she had shared with him, and neither had Jenna.

This didn’t lead to any foursomes between our parents and us. The thought never crossed our minds—Mom, Jenna, or mine—and I had no problem with Jenna continuing her affair with her father. As far I know, up until he passed away, he always thought they were fooling around behind my back, which was probably pretty hot for him.

That didn’t mean we never had foursomes ... or fivesomes. Jenna and I had twin sons who grew up in my image and a daughter as tall and slender as my mother but as athletic as Jenna. When the boys turned fifteen, and our princess turned fourteen, neither Jenna nor I had any problems with our children and their sex lives. We didn’t plan on what happened, not consciously, but we didn’t discourage it either. Did that make us bad parents? In the end, it didn’t turn out that way, for which I’m thankful. (We were lucky: Sex brought our family closer together instead of tearing us apart.)

My mother didn’t mind either (and not because I told her that she wasn’t allowed to mind). Mom, as a fifty-eight-year-old silver-foxed grandmother to a pair of twin boys with the bodies of men, finally got her wish of having all three of her holes filled at the same time by real, porn-sized, flesh-and-blood, rock-hard cocks. (After watching Mom, Jenna just had to have a turn as well, and our daughter couldn’t wait for her turn; the fourteen-year-old minx. My little princess always gets a thrill when it comes to extreme challenges. Maybe I’ll write about her someday.)

And to think, all of this happened because my mother was worried about my future. If only all sons were so lucky and every mom so caring.