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"Do it harder," Dom replied. "Pull her hair. Choke her."
Frank tried to picture himself doing that. The blood drained from his face.
"Not hard enough to cut off the flow of air to her brain, you idiot. I'm not telling you to turn her face blue; just help her to imagine that you'd be willing to, if she doesn't please you. Let her know who's in control. Better yet, make her feel like your desire for her is so strong that you're not in control of yourself; let her think that she's awakened the sort of primal passion that eggheads like you don't even believe in."
Beside him, Brie was getting flushed. "If it seems like I'm get turned on," she said, after realizing that Frank was looking at her, "that's only because I am." Her hand made its way inside his overalls. "That doesn't mean anything that happened last night was a lie, though." She fretted at her lower lip, coaxing pre-cum out of his cock. "I like your brother's attitude, and I also like the things you do with your mouth. And fingers. And this." She pulled back on his member like it was a gearshift in a car with a manual transmission. "There's no contradiction there, and I'd appreciate it if you stopped implying that there is."
"I didn't even say anything."
"You didn't have to."
She was right, of course. Frank wasn't sure why he had such a hard time accepting that, but he did. In his mind, there were two types of women: those who wanted to be treated right, and those who didn't. He wasn't even the sure the former were more than a myth, though Liz gave him hope. That was a fucked up way of looking at things, though; a false dichotomy. Who was to say what the "right" way to treat a woman was, anyway, aside from treating her however she wanted to be treated, whatever that entailed?
On the other hand, who was to say there was a "right" way to show passion? Maybe it was obnoxious of him to think less of his mother because she not only let Dom treat her the way he did but actually wanted him to. It was no less obnoxious of her to think she knew his mind, and his heart, better than he did. If he said he was crazy about her, that no one could ever compare to her, that he couldn't get enough of her, where did she get off thinking that was must be bullshit because he hadn't wrapped his hands around her throat?
"No one's saying all women want that," Dom told him, making a reasonable guess about what he was thinking that was nonetheless incorrect. "Mom does, though."
Frank looked at Brianna, felt the urge to kiss her, and managed to suppress it. It didn't help that she was staring back rather intently. Her hand was working him faster and faster, but there was nothing lustful about her expression. It was full of curiosity and affection, vulnerability and the desire for acceptance. "I bet your mom doesn't," he told her.
That wasn't what he'd meant to say. Frank wanted to tell his cousin that he didn't care if she liked getting tied up, or beat with chains for that matter. If she was okay with there being lines he didn't want to cross, then he was okay with her wanting someone else to cross them every now and then, however extreme they might be.
"I bet you're right," she replied. Her hand continued stroking, but her pace slowed down as she turned to Dom. "Did I tell you I'm trying to convince him to focus on her?"
If his mother's interest in alpha males and rough sex was a little more like Brianna's, perhaps Frank could make his peace with it. He got the sense that, for Brianna, all of that was akin to an itch that occasionally needed to be scratched. It was different with his mother. She had really strong—and factually incorrect—views about how men behaved when they were strongly attracted to a woman; about what made a man a man in the first place. If Frank didn't conform to her expectations, that wouldn't just lead her to find someone who was willing to pull her hair when the urge struck then return to him after and appreciate his style for what it was. She would never believe that Frank felt about her the way that he actually did. Nor would she ever feel as flattered by his attentions as by Dom's.
On some level, it made sense to Frank. His brother could have any woman he wanted, and had proven as much time and time again. That their mother was the only one he remained interested in years after his initial conquest absolutely said something about her. That had to be intoxicating. Frank wouldn't let any other woman come before her even if he was free to choose from all of them, but he couldn't communicate that credibly. For all his mother knew, his commitment to her had as much to do with a lack of options as anything else.
Knowing that it made a sick sort of sense for her to want a predator to prey upon her didn't make it any easier for Frank to stop resenting that dynamic, however. Especially when his cousin was trying her best to set him up with her mother, who was overshadowed by her older sister in many respects but at least would never make him feel like a disappointment because he didn't get rough with her, talk down to her, or otherwise behave like a monster.
"No," Dom said, "but that's a good idea.
"Right?" Brie said, hand leaving Frank's cock as she gesticulated emphatically.
"They're perfect for each other," his brother added.
"Bobby's perfect for her," Frank interjected as he tucked himself back in his pants.
Their cousin swatted at a fly that wasn't there. "Pffft. Don't let him stop you."
Dom tilted his head and looked at the other couch. "She's hotter, too."
"You think so?" Brie asked. "I mean, I certainly do, but I thought you were way into your mom." She looked at her mother, who seemed torn between pain and anger now that Bobby was enjoying himself. "On a scale from one to ten, what would you rate them?"
"I'd say my mom's an eight and yours a nine," Dom said without pause.
"You're crazy," Frank said. "Mom's a ten and the rest are nines."
He was pretty sure he meant it, too. If asked to be more precise, he might have put Liz a few decimal points higher, and Brie a few lower, but that sounded about right if he was rounding to the nearest whole number. The four he'd given nines didn't appeal to him for the same reasons—his cousin was undeniably prettier than all the others, yet also had the least impressive body—but they pretty much did appeal to him equally.
Leaving his mother in a class all by herself. Where she belonged.
Whatever frustration Frank might feel with her traditionalist views about gender, his mother was unquestionably the most physically attractive. Not just out of those five, either, but in all of existence. She couldn't possibly have looked any better.
"You really don't think I'm not a ten!" Brianna said, slapping him.
Frank shrugged. "The truth hurts."
Only it clearly didn't; his cousin was more amused than anything. She turned back to Dom and said, "What about you? What would you rate the rest of us?"
This time, Dom stopped to think about it. "I'd say Grandma's an eight, or maybe a seven point five. Nat's a nine point five, and you're a nine point nine nine."
"Still not a ten," she said with a smirk. Then she leaned across the armrests of the couch she and Frank sat on and the love seat Dom occupied to kiss his brother on the lips.
At first, it looked like it was going to be a brief affair, more an expression of gratitude than of desire. It wasn't until Frank slapped their cousin on the ass, though, that she broke away from Dom and planted her round beauty back on the cushion.
"What were you talking about?" Nat asked as she approached. Without the slightest hesitation, she straddled their cousin's hips as if she was about to perform another lap dance. "Did I hear something about seven-and-a-half? No one here's that small."
Partly for thinking a seven-and-a-half-inch cock was small, and partly because it was there, all nice and round, Frank gave his sister's ass a slap as well. She laughed and wiggled her hips, making it dance beneath her tight skirt. That left him with no choice but to put his hand on it again, if only to get a good squeeze.
"We were rating you all on a scale from one to ten, not talking about the size of anyone's dick," Dom said. "The seven point five, by the way, was Grandma, not you."
"Of course not me," Nat said. "I'm an eleven."
"You sure are," Brie said, giving that bubble butt a squeeze of her own.
Their brother brought up the rear, looking utterly exhausted yet equally satisfied. Dom tossed a wad of wrapping paper at him. "Your turn, fuckstick."
"Huh?" Todd said, running a hand through his sweaty blond hair. After Frank explained what they were doing, he looked down at Nat and Brie and said, "These two are both tens." Apparently, he'd forgotten that he thought their sister could stand to lose a few pounds; that she'd created another version of herself precisely because Todd didn't consider her a ten. Or perhaps the girl had finally taught him to appreciate a little junk in the trunk.
"And the others?" Dom asked.
"I'd give Aunt Liz an eight and Grandma a seven," Todd said with a shrug. He looked over at their mother, who has about to finish their uncle off with her tits. That was going to cost him with Aunt Liz, but Frank still considered him lucky. "If we're using fractions," Todd continued, "Mom's a six-and-a-half,; otherwise, I'll round down to a six."
"I don't even know what to say to that," Frank said.
"Do you want to hear ours?" Nat asked before Todd could reply. Meanwhile, Brianna removed the girl's straw necklace and leaned down to kiss the tops of her breasts, which were contained only by a tan vest that was tight enough to produce a nice line of cleavage.
Actual cleavage, as in a line separating two things that were pressed tightly together. At some point, most of the world had decided that the upper middle part of a woman's chest was called her cleavage regardless of whether her breasts came remotely close to touching or not. Words had meanings, though, and Frank refused to abuse that one the way everyone else did. Some women simply couldn't show any cleavage no matter what sort of neckline they wore. His sister was not one of them. She didn't have their mother's epic endowment, but her girls were sizable enough for a tight top to create a deep furrow.
"Sure," Todd said with a grin that left no doubt as to where he thought he'd fall.
She looked each of her brothers up and down, trying not to get too distracted as Brie fiddled with the leather ties. "Umm," Nat said, chewing her lower lip, "I'm gonna go with eight point five, nine point five, and ten," she said, pointing first at Frank, then Dom, then Todd. Then she twisted in the other direction, watched Bobby get to his feet and fix his outfit, and said, "Nine." Finally, her eyes settled on Grandpa Dick, who was fondling his wife's backside as he watched their daughter scoop the last bit of their son's cum from her chest with a finger she'd soon lick. "Another ni—no, nine point five."
"You sure about that last one?" Dom asked, chuckling.
"No," Nat admitted. "His abs aren't that impressive, but I like everything else. And he's stupid handsome." She looked at Todd. "Though I do like the pretty boys."
"Pretty boy?" Todd scoffed. Apparently, it wasn't enough that she considered him a ten, and had an amber gleam in her eyes now that they were focused on him.
"Relax, killer," Frank said. "She just means clean-shaven."
Their sister shrugged. "Something like that."
"Takes an eight-pack to impress you, huh?" Frank said.
"That's not the only reason I rated you lower," came the reply. "Though I will say that when you change into that other you, you're a nine-point-five."
That probably should have flattered him more than it did. On some level, though, he didn't care what his sister thought. And to the extent that he did, it kinda sucked that she wasn't more impressed with the real him. It wasn't a big deal, but the ability to score higher by using a type of magic the others had no talent for didn't exactly fill him with pride.
"He is anyway," Brianna said. "The other version is a ten." She turned to Dom, saw his expression, and frowned. "Oh, buck up. You're a nine-point-five too." Not a ten, though. "In fact," she said, looking at their grandfather and their uncle, "I'd call it a five-way tie."
"Until Frank cheats," Todd said.
Dom laughed. "You mean tries too hard?"
Neither of the girls took issue with that characterization. Frank might have chafed at that if he didn't know they'd fawn over him again the next time he altered his physique.
"Brie, get your cousin out of your lap and come give your grandfather his present."
"Sorry, Grandma," Brianna said, giving his sister yet another slap on the ass.
"Can I help her?" Nat asked as she got to her feet and retied her vest.
With a rumbling laugh, their grandfather assured them that he wouldn't mind.
So it was that Frank found himself sipping the finest whisky while he and his brothers watched their sister and their cousin have a threesome with their grandfather.
It had started off as a mere lap dance, the two of them taking turns straddling Grandpa Dick while the other ran her hands over his back and shoulders or put on a show for the rest of the family. It had even remained that way for the duration of the first song.
Once Brie pulled Nat to her feet and started dancing with her one-on-one, reducing their grandfather to a mere observer like the rest of them, it had seemed like an open question whether they planned to involve him again at all. Someone like Frank might have made the mistake of letting them get away with that, but his grandfather had stood, forced them both to their knees with a hand on either shoulder, and gotten himself a double-blowjob without having to speak a word. Only after shooting a huge load down both their throats, and painting their faces white with what they couldn't swallow in time, did their grandfather open his mouth. At that point, he instructed them to sixty-nine, which they did without hesitation. He then fucked Frank's sister from behind.
"—nd if I join you, do you?" the boys' mother asked. "They're no fun," she'd added, jerking a thumb back at Bobby, Liz, and Noreen. Frank had a feeling that it was more her brother and sister that she had in mind than her mother, though.
The first half of her greeting had been rendered inaudible by the invisible barrier someone had divided the two couches with. That had probably been there earlier, when they'd been discussing how physically attractive everyone was, but Frank hadn't noticed. He was glad that whoever'd thought to erect it had done so. If he was to find out that Liz had heard even a fraction of that conversation, he'd die of embarrassment.
"Want to try some of Grandpa's Scotch?" Dom offered, reaching for the bottle.
"I'll stick with this, thanks," their mother said, holding up her pumpkin old fashioned. She stepped past Todd and settled her bottom against one of the armrests.
The strength of her natural perfume told Frank that she was extremely aroused, as did her pulsating Libido. Between the berry scent, the soft thrum, and the way his arm hair stood on end as tiny amount of energy leaked out from between her legs, he almost went into a lust-fueled frenzy. Was it a blessing or a curse to have her right next to him while they watched the final performance? Both, Frank decided.
"Actually, let me steal a taste," she said. With a hand on Frank's shoulder, she leaned forward and accepted the glass he'd raised towards as soon as she'd said that.
The momentary brush of breasts against his chest gave him a thrill, even though she'd restored her costume. Every little thing sent his heart racing when his mother was involved. A brief email from her could put a smile on his face that lasted for days, even if there was nothing in it that wouldn't be found in your average mother-son correspondence. Skyping with Brie had never done that to him, in spite of her strip shows.
"Ugh," his mother said after taking a sip. "That's horrible! It tastes like wood-smoked...gym socks." She stuck out her tongue. "I thought I liked whiskey."
"You like bourbon," Frank told her. "When it's mixed with pumpkin puree, maple syrup, Grand Marnier, and orange bitters." He should know; he mixed her drinks all the time.
"Is bourbon not whiskey?" Todd asked.
"It is, but it's quite different from Scotch," Dom answered. He might not be an enthusiast, but you didn't work on Wall Street without picking up a few things.
"It's got more corn in it, for one thing," Frank said. He was no connoisseur either, but economists were nearly as fond of status symbols as investment bankers were—particularly those that came in a bottle. "That makes it sweeter, even before you add maple syrup."
Their mother gave a demure shrug. "So I'm a sweet tooth. Is that the worst any of you can say about me?" A flash of amber light indicated that she was well aware of the golden opportunity she'd just served up and couldn't wait to see what they'd do with it.
"Nah," Dom said. "That would be how you're not sucking my dick right now."
Well, that was certainly one approach they could take.
"Is that any way to speak to your mother?" she replied with feigned indignation.
Even if he'd somehow found the courage to say what his brother had just said, Frank would have rushed to assure their mother that it was a joke. Her rebuke was obviously playful—no one could think the woman was truly offended—but it was still a rebuke. Besides, that comment was thoroughly obnoxious. Talk about a sense of entitlement.
So how did his older brother react? By whipping his dick out, of course. "Sorry, let me try again," he said as he aimed it at her. "Get on your knees, slut. Now."
Frank couldn't tell whether he actually gasped or only thought that he did. Either way, it had been easier to recover from the last kick to the nuts he'd suffered, some five or six years ago, than from hearing his brother talk to their mom like that.
They had a rather different effect on their mother, though. She wouldn't have been any quicker to comply if his brother had used mind magic on her.
Which, come to think of it, he might have. Dom had no great talent for that, but he could manage cantrips—weak spells with very minor effects. Such as issuing commands that the subject wasn't likely to resist too strongly anyway. It took the real deal to compel anyone to do something they had a strong predisposition against, but that didn't apply to their mother servicing any of her sons, least of all her favorite. So it was possible that manipulation from his brother was the reason that she hadn't even offered a token remonstration.
Of course, it was also possible that she didn't mind being spoken to like that.
Frank shuddered.
Memories bubbled up and he realized that he'd heard his brother call her that, and worse, many times. Yes, he'd also heard Dom shower her with compliments, and express something very close to real emotion, but that always came after they were finished. During sex, and leading up to it, he talked down to her—which she had absolutely no problem with.
He also remembered that they both knew that he liked to spy on them, and were wholly unbothered by it. In fact, Frank was pretty sure that it added to the excitement for them—all the more so because they never knew for sure whether he was tuning in or not.
"Theeerrrre we go," Dom said, rolling his head back on his shoulders. He trailed his fingers through the black silk of her hair. "Such a good whore."
The slurping sounds grew louder and more insistent, prompting Todd to huff and shift his weight. He very pointedly did not look at Dom or their mother, though. All his attention was on Nat and Brie; even Grandpa Dick was sort of incidental, though he was balls deep inside their sister's rectum. The only thing keeping him on the couch, Frank suspected, was the fear that their grandfather would object to him diverting the girls' attention.
