Chapter 7: Home ... Dad ... August 2011

The day we'd got home from the beach we didn't just stop. We didn't automatically revert to the relationship we'd had before. How could we have? The world had changed.

Instead we simply settled in as lovers. I moved into my father and mother's bedroom. We didn't even discuss it. It just happened. Nor as the days passed did we talk about what we were doing. Or why we were doing it. Or that it was wrong. We didn't talk about my father. Or my sister. We didn't talk about the future. We just lived day to day.

We made love. Yes love. We were no longer the animals of the first few nights as we settled into our lovemaking. Oh we still fucked. But we interspersed soft touches, gentle caresses with the urgent mauling. It got better. If that was possible. We were Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden.

But we also resumed our lives. We both got up and went to work every morning – me to the job dad had got for me with one of his manufacturing clients and mom at the real estate office she'd worked at for over five years. Of course we'd make love before we left for those jobs, either before our morning shower or during it.

I saw my buddies. Played sports. Went to summer parties. Mom saw her friends. Continued to do her volunteer work at the library. Life went on.

But we also ended every day twisted together on the soft sheets of my parents king size bed, our bodies sweating and our chests heaving as we slowly came down from our orgasms. A mother shuddering, panting, trembling, sweating, oozing out her juices as she lay in the arms of her son.

I took my mother's bum our third day back in Baltimore. Two fingers stretched her vagina as my erection forced itself inside her. "Are you sure?" I'd asked before I'd penetrated her.

"Yes," she answered as she turned onto her hands and knees and spread her legs. "My bodies yours, anytime, anyplace," she said back over her shoulder as I brought my cockhead to her puckered opening.

We did everything sexually imaginable to each other over the following weeks. The noises I'd heard for years coming from my parent's bedroom had truly reflected my mother's sexual need. It was all encompassing, all demanding. It was hard to believe she'd allowed herself to become a sexual yo-yo for over twenty years. How had this hungry and needy woman been able to turn herself on and off at her husband's merest whim. How did she survive his long absences? I knew she never would again.

Three weekends after our Onancock weekend, the weekend of the twenty-third, we went to another nude beach, this one on the Outer Banks. It was a huge relief to escape the confines of our house, again, even if only for a few days. We didn't have to hide what we felt for each other. We could walk down the street arm in arm. We could kiss publicly.

And of course the exhibitionism. The displaying of our bodies to others. To feel that exhilarating rush again! The first night, as she lay in my arms, mom readily admitted how much she liked it. Liked the feeling of hungry eyes upon her. All shyness was gone.