Chapter 15

As the morning sun sent diffused shafts of orange over my face, I pried my eyelids open. After a short yawn, I rolled my aching head on the pillow.

At the light coming through translucent fuchsia curtains, my heartbeat thumped. It raced once my brain processed the seductive mélange of my mother’s soap, flowery shampoo, and sweet arousal. While blinking the sleep from my eyes, I took in the crumpled, stained pink silk sheets surrounding me.

“So, that’d happened,” I murmured through cracked lips as my shaky fingers skimmed a warm depression alongside me.

Besides the drumbeat of my heart, the only sounds were a single long breath and me scratching at my scalp. Okay, so not a dream. Well, my dad would be returning that same day. Then what? My mother ... I gulped. She’d become my lover. Unlike before, when I’d perhaps only been a passing fancy. After that night, in every sense of the word, we were lovers. And she was also my...

“ ... bitch. Bitch?” I whispered, while staring at the languidly spinning ceiling fan.

Oh, and what would that mean for Ms. Richard—Jeri? And ... Again, my chest thumped. The indistinct look on the neighbor girl’s face as she’d tracked the bus departing school. Perhaps Beth? Even as I struggled with the pure fantasy of those thoughts, I gulped as the image of Cindy’s expression in the pool flashed into me. Nah, not Cindy. No way. She had “Smilin’” Jake.

When my mother pranced into the room, still naked with a smile on her face, I froze. Once more, I should’ve asked any of a million questions that dumped into my brain. Or said something.

Instead, after giving her gleaming, curvy frame a quick once over, I returned her grin. In her hands was a tray table topped with my favorite breakfast. As she glided closer, the aromas of scrambled eggs and sausage overwhelmed those from the night before.

“Good morning, baby.” After chewing on her lip, she glanced at my morning wood before chuckling. “Hmm, not a baby. And, yum, definitely not so little again, I see.”

“Mornin.’” While I once more scanned her nude frame as she set the tray at the foot of the bed, my pulse raced. “Mommy.”

Despite the pause in my voice, her smile widened. “I bet you’re hungry after last night, huh?”

As she leaned over to fluff up the pillows, my hand lifted to cradle a dangling warm breast. After freezing, she only looked at me. When I rolled its thick nipple between my fingertips, her shimmering lips parted. Yes, it was just as wrong as it’d been the night before. And, no, I no longer cared. Once dad had returned home, she’d belong with him.

When her gleaming blue eyes drifted to the pulsing tower in the sheets between my legs, the Universe slowed. She’d had the same thought. But after another glance at the tray, my mother sighed and let my hands wander her as she worked to sit me upright. Under my gliding palms, other than clenching her teeth or hissing low whimpers, she was quiet while placing the little lap table. At every opportunity, she met my gaze.

That morning, in the slanting fuchsia tinted sunshine, my mother knew what she was to me. After the last night, I didn’t even have to speak the word. As the rising scent of her need mixed with breakfast, I caught the shine along her inner thighs. In her bright blue eyes, the first waves of golden flecks sparkled in the soft sunlight.

Still insatiable. After a swift gulp, she stared at the throbbing tent thrusting upward beyond the table.

“I’m hungry, too, baby,” she murmured.

At first, I didn’t understand, since she sat on the side of the bed and started feeding me. Although I kept one hand roaming her back, my mother, trembling under my fingers, kept silent.

However, no sooner had she finished and wiped my chin than her hand slid under the covers to find my hardness. There was a brief flash of gold in her eyes as that devilish grin made another appearance. Before I could comment, she dipped beneath the sheets. Rapid puffs of hot breath searing my torso were followed by frenzied kisses and finally the forceful swirl of her wet tongue. With a groan, she latched onto my tip. And sucked. Hard. God, she was hungry. A loud groan ripped from my shaking lips. In no time, her tight fingers stroked beyond her velvet suckling lips. As her slurping, warm mouth rose and fell over my swollen knob, the covers bobbed.

“Oh. Oh. That’s so nice,” I whispered, while leaning back to watch my mother’s languid motions between my outstretched legs. “You’re such a nice bit—mommy.”

With muscles across my frame pulsing, relief rushed closer. Despite my toes curling and legs trembling, she continued to suck only my knob and upper shaft. It took everything within me to resist forcing her head lower.

I gulped.

Where was insane voice?

Once she rolled my full balls in her palm, the firm fingers of the other hand stroked faster in time with the quicker sucking of her silken lips.

It wouldn’t be long now. After all, my mother was a very talented fellatrix.

“You’re so good, mommy. So very, very good,” hissed from me in the split second before I unleashed a mumbling roar and thrust upwards. “Oh, yes. Oh. Oh. Here it comes, mommy. Mommy!”

Even as my fingertips dug into the covers, cinching them tight in my fists, the first pulsation flowed upward from my core. Just when I was about to speak again, I stared wide-eyed as my mother’s clawed hand flailed over the tray to snatch an empty glass before yanking it beneath the sheets.

What?

When the chilly smooth rim slipped over my engorging bulbous head just in time, my heart staggered. Splash. Squelch. With my pulsating rod flinging strand after thick white strand into the glass, my mother lifted away the covers.

While staring at the glass, filling with each lengthy jet from my tensing body, the impish grin on her face widened. At last, when nothing but drooling ooze left my slit, I began to shrink. With a glint in her eyes, my mother leaned down to capture the final thick rope dangling from my slit with a delicate swipe of her tongue. An artist. A true professional. A very talented fellatrix, indeed. Yet no matter how gentle, after the night before, every touch sent jolts along my spine. Too much sensitivity. Way too much. I’d never thought that’d be a problem for me.

At my gasp, she narrowed her eyes before releasing my drained flesh. At first I expected she’d speak, but my mother kept her face tilted upwards while bringing the glass to her mouth. While looking me in the eye, she let the last of my cum tumble from her lips into it. God, my mother was hot. So fucking hot.

“Sorry, baby. Mommy’s so naughty,” she said before smacking her sticky, goo-coated lips. “I’m gonna have special coffee today, baby.” While peering at the glass, she swirled the thick white ooze. “Hmm, you make so much. Enough for all day. And it’s so tasty.” After a protracted sniff, she emitted another playful, almost childlike, giggle. “God, I haven’t done this in such a long time.”

While I struggled to decipher her words and the sudden twinkle in her eyes, she placed the glass on the tray, replaced the sheet and snuggled tight to me. After a lengthy exhale, she shifted to gaze at the pearlescent fluid.

With the potent aroma of my seed mixed with the bouquet of her fruity shampoo tickling my nostrils, I gave up thinking about anything and sighed. Everything I knew about my God-fearing, strait-laced mother had disintegrated. We’d gone so far beyond normal. Would we ever make it back to that old world? Did either of us want to bother? When her soft breaths across my skin became steady, I shook my head. Not yet. And no time soon. After a soft yawn, blackness oozed back into my spinning brain.

By the time dad’s car squealed to a halt in the driveway, it was mid-afternoon. Once more in the chariot before the glass doors in the main room, I was working on a school paper. Well, more like watching the reflection of my mother, “dressed” in pink lace panties and a longer teddy-type pink robe, splayed across the couch sipping her “special” coffee. Curled in a tight ball, Shayna was sleeping next to me, her ears only twitching at his arrival.

Quiet music played on the stereo. Yep, just another slow, boring Sunday afternoon here in the Clarke house.

Our new normal. At least the one with which dad was familiar.

After pushing open the front door, dad staggered inside. With only a brief wrinkle of his nose, he glanced at me. I was “typing” lots of letters. No words. When his red-rimmed drooping eyes shifted to my mother, she unfurled from the couch, sashayed to him, and wrapped her frame tight to his side.

“Hi, honey.” As one hand wandered his flanks, she took a short sip from the mug. “Welcome home.”

When he bent to kiss her, although she twisted to meet his lips, her gaze had found mine. Because, of course, she’d known I was watching in the glass. As they kissed, her brilliant blue eyes, caught in the sunlight, glinted with golden flecks.

Once she’d slipped free of his mouth, she took a longer sip of her “special” coffee and smiled up at him. When my dad coughed and spotted my reflection in the rear door, I gave him a quick wave before lowering my head to my “paper.” Unimpressed with my acting, Shayna yawned and stretched across the floor before the chariot.

“Did, uh, you guys...?” My dad’s words disappeared into a slow hitching whimper at the press of my mother’s fingers into his swelling crotch. Insatiable. While blinking, he swayed with each of her slow strokes. At last, he swallowed and called towards me. “Uh. Oh. Um, you were okay, uh, kiddo?”

While she nodded over the rim of her mug, I gulped. Under her ever more forceful rubbing, he was rocking as I lifted my head to face them.

“Yep. Uh, welcome home, dad.” Though I spoke, I wasn’t sure he heard me. With his head rolled back, a groan slipped free of him. As he tried to push my mother, my lover, my bitch, towards their bedroom, a twinge of jealousy slithered into my core. I muttered, “We were just fine.”

With a soft chuckle, she pulled from him and flounced into the kitchen, leaving dad standing there, his trousers tented, staring after her barely covered frame. When she returned, she handed him a mug and sat. Both his eyes and mine gaped as she crossed her long, shapely legs.

“So, how was the trip?” she asked before taking another sip.

After looking at me, her, and then back at me, he emitted a protracted sigh and slid into a chair. When he lifted his mug, my entire body tightened. Oh! She hadn’t?

“Thanks, babe.” As he raised the rim closer to his lips, my mother’s eyes flicked to me. Behind her mug, a hint of that impish grin. God, how those eyes sparkled.

She is different now.

Yeh, no shit, insane voice. That was beyond, so far beyond, normal. I swallowed a chuckle. As if the night before and that very morning were anywhere near normal. After a sip, dad smacked his lips and took another. As he nodded, a grin widened on his face. With her own smile broadening, my mother reached across to caress his forearm.

“So?” she said, while running her nails along his skin as he drank, sighed, and leaned back in his chair.

“Well, uh, Ginder was an asshole.”

At the exasperated tone in dad’s voice, my mother unleashed a tittering laugh. After his own chuckle, dad took another long swig of “special” coffee. When he turned to his tablet, she winked at me while her shiny white teeth sank into the corner of her lower lip. Tricksy little thing. Yeh, church-going Wendy Clarke. She was most definitely different. Like I’d figured, as if last night hadn’t already proven that.

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