Chapter 8

Glynn was up early, unable to sleep. He spent a long time in the shower, enjoying the hot water, soaping himself thoroughly. When he was dry, he inspected his face in the mirror, thinking that perhaps he had grown more beard overnight. He sure felt a lot older.

Standing before the sink he thought about what he had done the night before, and felt tingly all over. It hadn't been another wet dream; he had really, actually, fucked his mother. True, he hadn't been able to spend the whole night with her, and hadn't gotten nearly enough of that glorious pussy, but she had fucked him back. She had loved his prick and played with it and fed him her tit. She had talked dirty with him and told him that even though his father's cock was much bigger than his, she dug his prick just as much.

He looked down and saw his shaft rising, the head spreading as if it could feel the magic caress of his mom's velvet cunt. Those sleek, long legs and the way she moved her crotch, the way she rolled her terrific ass--Glynn got hard all over and his balls began to ache.

It was Saturday, he remembered, and his dad wouldn't be going to the construction outfit he owned today. Damn, Glynn thought; he wanted to fuck some more, and he wanted his mom, not Lorena. Not right away with his sister, anyhow. Mom had promised to teach him a lot of things about sex, like how to eat her cunt, and he was more eager for that experience than for anything else. Maybe he could get Lorena to take dad out of the house for a couple of hours; he sure as hell couldn't wait until night.

Trying to whistle, he went downstairs and headed for the kitchen, his stomach growling. He had already downed a glass of juice and had bread in the toaster when she came in. Glynn looked up at her, thinking that his mother was fantastically beautiful in a red robe that clung to her hips and outlined the high mounds of her fine tits. The robe swung away from her molded legs when she walked, too, and the glimpse of them made his mouth dry up.

Her coal-black hair swung loosely down her back, and she wore red lipstick that made him somehow think of the lips of her cunt, those soft, soft lips he had never actually seen up close. He blushed when her eyes caught his, and felt like some kind of nut because his face turned red. But she smiled at him, her lashes half lowered over sultry dark eyes, and he perked up immediately.

"Good morning, dear," she murmured. "Did you sleep well?"

"Kind of," he said. "But I wanted to be in your bed."

She came to stand close and lift a scented hand to his cheek. "I know, lover; I wanted you there, too. Maybe there'll be a chance today. Would you like that?"

Damn! He wanted to grab her and rub his stiffening cock into her belly, to hold her by the cheeks of that alluring ass and to bury his face between her tits. "I have to screw you today, mom; I have to."

Her smile widened, and she dropped her hand to squeeze his prick. "So eager and ready. Just as soon as it's possible, darling; I promise."

She left him standing there with his shaft paining, and made a pot of coffee while he watched every movement of her superb body with avid eyes. It was still hard for him to believe he had gotten into her cunt, that he had pumped her hot, juicy snatch full of his come, and that she wanted more.

When he heard somebody else coming, he hurried to the table and sat down, to hide his erection. It was Lorena, looking fresh and supremely happy, dressed in tight cutoffs and a floppy but thin bandanna shirt that showed the bouncy movement of her tits. She looked a question at him, and he winked. She winked back, and grinned broadly.

His sister was really a cute girl, he thought, one that any guy would be lucky to screw. And now she had fucked their father; the experience had made her glow, he saw, and wondered if he looked as joyful this morning.

"Hi, everybody," Lorena said, skipping over to the stove and putting her arms around her mother's waist to kiss the back of her neck. "Morning, mom."

"My, isn't everyone chipper this morning," Arlene said. "I hope your father is in a halfway good mood."

"Oh, he will be," Lorena said, and blew a silent kiss at Glynn.

Glynn wondered how she had managed it; his sister couldn't have held down his old man and practically raped him when he woke up. And how had she taken that prick, the one mom said was so much bigger than his own? He guessed a girl's pussy could stretch as much as was needed. Lorena brought the toast and ducked her hand beneath the table to nip his shaft, laughing when he flinched.

Then Eric Johansen came down to breakfast. It was the only meal he shared with the family, Glynn thought, staying away at lunch on business and not coming home for dimmer because he didn't want to.

"Morning," his father said gruffly, and Glynn sneaked a glance at him to see if he could read anything on the craggy face, but the man wasn't showing anything.

"Better hurry, dad," Lorena said. "Remember you promised to take me out and show me the construction site today?"

Arlene Johansen turned from the stove, one eyebrow going up. "Oh? At this late date, you're showing an interest in your children?"

"Don't start," Eric said and took a cup of coffee from his daughter. "I thought it was time they both got to know a little about the business, but one at a time."

Glynn met his mother's eyes in mute, intent appeal, and she nodded slightly. "All right, then; Glynn and I will manage to take care of ourselves. That is, if you have nothing on, son?"

He half choked on a piece of buttered toast. "N-no, mom; guess I'll stay home and help in the yard or something."

His father only grunted, and Glynn knew a vast feeling of relief, then a sensation of exultation. He was going to be alone with her, with his lovely mother; they would have most of the day to themselves! The knowledge shook him to the core, and he clamped his legs together to keep his cock from jumping, crazily. Right in the living room, he thought--with the drapes drawn and doors locked; right there on the floor, with both of them stripped naked.

Somehow, Glynn held himself together until they left. Gathering up purse and her weird hat, his sister leaned close to him and said softly, "Have a lot of fun, little brother. Dad and I are going to a motel, so you'll have plenty of time."

All he could do was nod his head and smile weakly. Lorena really had it rolling, and the day ought to be a ball for both of them. For all four, he corrected himself; their parents would dig the action as much as they would, he was sure. He listened for the station wagon to pull out of the driveway, and sat for a few seconds after he was certain they were gone.

"Mom," he said, "can I help with the dishes?"

"I'm putting them in the washer," she answered quietly. "They can wait, but I'm not so sure I can."

She held his hand as they walked into the living room and they separated only to close the drapes. But he wanted some light, so he snapped on the bar lamp as she turned to him with her hands by her sides and her chin up.

"Here, darling--not upstairs in bed?"

He shook his head. "Here on the floor, mom. I've watched you here, peeping under your skirt when you got careless with those fantastic legs, making pictures in my head how you would look all naked, trying to make believe that you would drink too much and pass out and nobody else would be home. Now it's all coming true, and I want to screw my hot, beautiful mother in the living room."

"Of course you can," she murmured, and reached to undo the belt of her robe.

He sat on a barstool, knowing a trembling in his legs, and watched her open the robe. The red of it made a bright frame for the long, willowy body exposed to his view, and he gazed enraptured at the creamy expanse of woman flesh she showed him. His mom's tits quivered at the least movement of her shoulders, and he stared at them fixedly as she dropped the robe.

They were rich and heavy, round and firm, with those long, brown nipples sticking out invitingly. She cupped them in both hands, offering them to him, and her voice was low in her throat when she said, "Hadn't you better get out of your jeans, dear?"

Fumbling at his zipper, he dropped his eyes over the smooth planes of her belly, down to that prized treasure between her full thighs. His mother's pubic hair was black as midnight, curled tightly, thickly grown in an entrancing vee whose tips narrowed and spread themselves up into the delicate creases formed by her groin and the upper reaches of her incomparable thighs.