Cautionary Family Tail

He had dreamed of this moment, especially of what she murmured next.

"Now, now. Fuck me now," she moaned. His bulb throbbing at her entrance, poised to strike—both them fully aware it was there.

"You sure? I could just give you another big O with my mouth on your clit again. You could just give me another blow job."

"No, now. Get it over with. Get me past it."

She shuddered and gave distressed little panting yip yip sounds as he pulled her pelvis into his, drawing her passage onto his hard, thick, long cock. His bulb just pressing at her entrance, he held briefly to savor the moment. Then the controlled thrust. He fancied he heard the cherry pop as she jerked and gave a little cry. He'd certainly felt it give, opening the way for him. He kept moving deeper, deeper, deeper into her—slowly, giving her walls time to open to him, sliding through her juices. Slowly stretching her walls with a thick, throbbing probe going where no man had gone before and moving up inside her. Pulling back, and hearing her give a little "that can't be all" moan, only to pull her into him again, deeper. Again and again. She trembled and groaned, the groan of surrender rising from the core of her.

"Please, please," she murmured.

When he began to pump in earnest, she threw her arms around his head and, though still giving little sobs, began to move her hips in countermotion to his, both of them straining for the feel of him filling out the bulb of the condom. At the moment of climax, the first for him, one of several small explosions for her, he held her close in to him, palm pressing at the small of her back, inside her as far as he could reach, her fingernails digging into his shoulder blades, as he pulled back and then thrust forward, jerked, and spurted, and she matched his jerks with little explosions of her own.

"I'm sorry if I was too rough with you," he whispered when he'd come. Her torso and head were thrown back, her arms dangling at her side, her auburn curls cascading to the tartan blanket before, panting lightly. She'd totally surrendered and gone limp ten minutes earlier, letting him pull her hard and fast off his cock, breathing ever harder himself until he'd let out a victory yodel.

Letting one arm around her waist hold her, he moved his other hand down, through her pubic hair, redder than that on her head, and glided his fingers inside her folds to find her clit. He was still inside her and their mutual moaning and sighing was already making him hard again.

"Again," she whimpered. "Fuck me again before I lose wanting you inside me so badly."

Three days later, now unsure of whether he really wanted to go to England for a week and a half or if he wanted to stay here and explore the mysteries of Suzie further, he met up with Lena Whitlam by the ticket counter at the airport. Another woman, looking slightly older than Lena and as good looking as Lena in a less-made-up way than his professor was standing and talking with Lena.

"There he is," Lena said, as he walked up to them. The other woman was giving him a speculative, knowing look.

"This is my literary agent, Helena Whitlam, Evan. She's also my sister—my older sister, I might add."

The other woman threw in a "Just by fourteen months, Lena, sweetie."

Lena continued without losing a beat, the little game having been played between the sisters hundreds of times before. "This is Evan Light, the student I was telling you about who is going with us on a grant to experience what going on a book-signing tour is like."

Evan couldn't miss the "don't ask and so what?" look that went between the two sisters. He didn't have time to speculate further on that, though, because he'd gone dumb in shock as a third woman joined them.

"And this is my daughter, Suzie," Lena was saying. "Suzie Stockton. She's a freshman here at the university. Suzie, one of my students, Evan Light. I think the two of you should get along famously. I think you're both lacrosse mad."

"Suzie Stockton," Evan's recent conquest repeated coolly, sticking her hand out for a polite handshake. And then, as if she could read his thoughts. "Dad is a philosophy professor at NYU. My parents are no longer married, and Mother has gone back to her maiden name." The look in her eyes told Evan that she was amused at his embarrassment but that everything would be just fine between them.

* * * *

"You know she's your mother, don't you?"

Evan stopped pumping and opened his eyes. He'd had them shut. She looked too much like Lena.

"Excuse me?"

"Lena. Evangeline Whitlam. Starts with 'Evan.' Get it?"

"Lena's my mother?"

She couldn't be, Evan was thinking. His mother had split before he was one. Said she didn't want any part of either motherhood or wifehood and yet she was balloon-big pregnant when she left—pregnant by another man, she'd thrown in Evan's father's face as she stormed out. His father wouldn't talk about her, wouldn't say a word about other than that she'd been a mistake. He was two more mistakes later now, marrying the same "just walk away" kind each time. The latest stepmother, Claudia, had fucked him dry on a chaise lounge beside the family swimming pool. But Lena his mother? Couldn't be. His mother was a myth.

"Yes, she most certainly is," Helena hissed. "Now, don't stop. Keep fucking me."

They were in Helena Whitlam's room. Evan was sitting, shirtless, his fly open, on a straight chair, and Helena, her skirt bunched up around her waist, her blouse open, was knocking her breasts around on Evan's face as he tried to catch the nipples with his mouth. Evan's cock was inside her and she was riding it in slow high-low sweeps like she was riding a camel.

She'd caught him fucking an upstairs maid against the wall in what should have been a deserted blind corridor at the old Ravenscroft Hall boutique hotel high on the cliffs over a horseshoe cove south of Scarborough, England. This, the main setting of Lena's new novel, was where her book signing tour was starting. Helena had caught Evan at it in the hall and had demanded that he come back to her room to discuss it.

The maid had been shy, but coquettish, while still quite virginal in response. Evan couldn't resist a virgin, and it appeared no woman could resist him. She had demurred, claiming to be a virgin, which made the challenge all the more worthwhile for Evan. But she continued to flirt and to give in to his kisses, to shudder and move on his hand when he cupped her maidenhood and toyed with her clit with one finger and pushed another one inside her. She was being deceptive, though, as Evan did that first controlled thrust but got no sense of a cherry popping. Although disappointed he continued thrusting, and was saved the worry of realizing he wasn't sheathed, by the appearance of Helena.

"You interrupted me," he said petulantly, when they entered Helena's room.

"Whatever is interrupted can satisfactorily resume again," she said, followed by, "Sit in that chair."

That wasn't the only command, and, bewildered, he'd docilely followed her lead. She'd taken charge of unzipping him again, fishing out his still-hard cock, and giving him an expert blow job before demanding a fuck.

"Why should I believe she's my mother?" Evan asked when Helena had told him that. He had to repeat it—"Helena?"—because she had gone into a trance rocking back and forth on his cock.

"Ask her."

"She knows she's my mother?"

"Of course she does. You didn't think you got into the university on your own, did you? Your grades weren't good enough."

He'd just met this woman, apparently his aunt, and she already knew all about him. "I'm on a lacrosse scholarship."

"Not full enough to cover your stay here—and it wasn't known how good you could play until you got here. Your mother supported the scholarship and is paying half your expenses. And you're fucking her. Do you think you should be fucking your mother? When you could be fucking . . ."

He lost her then. He'd taken over the controls and had been ramming her on the cock since she'd started talking about Lena. Lifting her and ramming her down on it, lifting and ramming her down on it. She took it like a fifty-dollar whore in heat. She was off into ecstasy, voicing a series of explosions, whipping his face in her gyrations with her big tits. Giving him the big sell, whether or genuine of not—making him hot as hell for it too. Making him come big, thankfully sheathed now.

When she had calmed down and was collapsed into his chest and purring, he said, "If Lena's my mother, and you're Lena's sister, then you are my aunt, aren't you? Don't you think—?"

"There's a world of difference, sweet boy," Helena whispered into the cleavage between his bulging pecs. "For now, take me over to the bed and fuck me again."

He didn't really see a great deal of difference, but, for Evan, in most cases, one cunt was very much like the next. He frog marched Helena over the to bed and gave her a missionary fuck, this time taking full control, this time Helena letting him know he was her conquering hero.

He went back to his room for a while, figuring he'd fume and curse at Lena for her deception, but he was conflicted on how he thought about it. He went off into a snooze while he was mulling it over. He could be mad at her for deserting him when he wasn't even one—but that was all long in the past and he'd been raised not to think about it much at all, rather than dwelling on abandonment issues. Still, there must be something he could and should do to punish her for just walking away—something she'd see as punishment.

He'd always been told that the main reason she'd left was rejection of motherhood.

She hadn't completely deserted him, of course. She was helping to pay his college expenses. She'd gotten him into the university, for God's sake, if Helena was to be believed. Yes, he'd wondered how he'd managed to get in. It's what convinced him that Helena was telling the truth about Lena being his mother.

Perhaps it's significant that he never gave a thought to it being a blood relative he was screwing—and now two. It obviously hadn't bothered him to fuck his aunt that second time, after knowing she was his aunt.

He woke and marched over to Lena's room an hour before lunch. There would be a book-signing event in the afternoon, where Lean would speak and answer questions. She was a late riser when she could be, and, when Evan walked in on her, she was still in her negligee and resting on the bed on her belly with a pillow under her chin while going over notes for her book-signing.

She barely had time to get out a greeting, which wasn't reciprocated, when Evan was on the bed behind her, stuffing the pillow under her belly, pulling her up onto her knees, slipping off the bikini bottoms of her negligee, mounting her, and fucking her for all he was worth.

She lay under him, laughing and demanding more, deeper, faster, bouncing up and down on her knees and elbows as she got the roughest, deepest, longest fuck he'd ever given her. When he shot off—once, twice, thrice, four times—she groaned and gave an exclamation. She only realized then that he hadn't worn a condom. She was swimming in young, virile cum.

"Evan," she whispered, as he rolled off her onto the bed. He didn't let her speak, though. He pulled her body into his, holding her tight, tight enough to leave her breathless in his embrace. He recovered quickly and entered her again from the rear, while holding her in a tight embrace, and began to pump her again. She struggled as best she could for a few minutes, pulling her mouth free enough to murmur, "Evan, no Evan, not this . . ." but he hit her again with another load of cum and she just quieted down and let him have his way through another fuck and a third ejaculation.

After he was finished and they were cooling down, in the same position, Even still inside her, she whispered. "One of them told you, didn't they?"

"One of them?"

"Helena or Suzie?"

"Suzie knows you're my mother—that she's my sister?"

"Yes." There was no particular bitterness behind that. Maybe Lena didn't know that he was screwing Suzie too.

"Helena told me."

"Ah. But why this? Why punish me this way?" Both of them knew it wasn't too late for Lena. She'd been barely twenty when he'd birthed Evan. She couldn't even be forty now. There was still time—unless she was taking precautions of her own. And unless those worked. "Is it because I didn't tell you I am your mother? Would you have fucked me if I'd told you?"

Evan sat up and looked down into her eyes. "Yes, I think I would have. I don't give a crap about that—that relative and incest stuff. But you asked why. It's because you just walked away, yes, and because you said that you weren't cut out for motherhood—not that that seems to have interfered with your raising of Suzie."

"Ah, well, Suzie's a girl. That was easier. Well, a boy . . ." She let that trail off.

"Has a dick. And even at one, I was arousing you, wasn't I? You had fantasies of fucking your own son someday."

"Someday, yes."

"And now you have."

"Yes. Does it end here? You won't fuck me again?"

"I'll fuck you as often as you want it, Mother. But each time, the possibility of punishment is there. Each time you will have to worry if the cycle starts again. I'll fuck you, but I won't wear a rubber. You'll have to worry about that yourself. If you aren't clever or careful enough, your punishment might catch up with you."

"You'd fuck me again now?"

As an answer, he rolled over on top of her, thrust inside her, and began to pump again.

* * * *

Suzie and Evan were in an embrace on a settee in a remote, tree-shrouded gazebo on the cliffs above the sea at the edge of the Ravenscroft Hall property. Everyone else who was around was inside, attending the book signing and talk by Lena, overseen by her agent, Helena.

Evan's shirt was open, as was Suzie's blouse. His fly was open and Suzie was stroking his cock. He was squeezing a breast with one hand and cupping her chin with the other, holding her face there for his search kiss on her lips. When they came up for air from the kiss, she moved in his arms, indicating she wanted to sink on her knees between his.

"You don't have to," he murmured.

"I want to," she whispered, and he released her as she went down to her knees. He laid back in the settee, throwing his head back and moaning as she worked his cock with her mouth. He didn't intend to come this way, but it was OK. He could rebuild quickly.

When she came up there was ejaculate on her lips and chin. He licked it off and they went back into a kiss, sharing his spunk.

He twisted her and laid her full length on the settee, coming down on top of her. Her left leg and his right were bent and went to the ground in front of the settee.

"Fuck me, fuck me," she murmured, feeling the hardness of him at her crotch.

"Yes, soon," he murmured. He wasn't ready. He was hard, but he didn't feel the buildup of seed in his balls yet. He started pulling her panties down her legs and traveling down with them, until they were gone and his mouth was buried in her cunt. He ate her out as she'd never been eaten out before as she writhed under him, pulled at his hair, arched her back, cried out for his attention, and exploded. Again and again.

He rose up on her body, trapping her underneath him, his arms encasing her sides, his hands cupping the back of her head, holding her close and steady, as he slowly slid his thick, long, hard cock into her passage. Not stopping until he was in deep.

She arched her back and panted hard, as slowly he withdrew and then slid in again. Withdrew and slid in. Again and again. And then faster and faster, ever harder thrusts. Deep. She writhed under him, explosion after explosion, begging for more of it, faster, deeper. He obliged.

When he ejaculated, she knew it was something special, something that had never happened before. She didn't quite catch that it was because he was barebacking her. He was breeding her—or at least creating that strong possibility. Creaming her with his seed, deep inside her.

"That was . . . special," she murmured when she could keep her breath. The position hadn't changed. He was going at least partially flaccid inside her, but he remained inside her.

"Yes it was," he whispered. And then, "Why didn't you tell me that Lena was my mother too?"

A short pause. He could feel her tense up. "She told you?"

"No, Helena told me."

"Ah. Good old Aunt Helena."

"Does Lena know about us, you and me?"

"No, I don't think so. Or Helena, thank god. Whatever you do, don't get hooked up with Helena. She's a schemer, that one."

"I can imagine she is," he answered, with a straight face. "But you knew. Before the picnic. You knew. You knew we had the same mother."

"Yes."

"Then why?"

"I was mad at Lena. I spend most of my time being mad at Lena. I wanted to punish her. I wanted to have something she had. Maybe I wanted to take what she had from her."

Evan was waiting for the apology. One wasn't forthcoming. Not even a declaration of wanting him because of him.

"Between Mother and me. Could you . . . just me?"

"No," he answered honestly. "And not just you and Lena either. My goal is to fuck every woman in the university—and beyond." Before she had withheld their relationship from him, he would have given her a different answer. She had almost had him.

"Damn you," she struggled a bit in his embrace.

"Do you want me to release you—so that you can huff your way back to the hotel? Or do you want me to fuck you again?"

She didn't respond. She just turned her face from him, and relaxed in his embrace.

"I thought so," he whispered. He ran the fingers of a hand down, between her breasts from her throat and down to and between her labia, running three of them at intervals down the line of his embedded cock. Once in, he spread them out, coaxing her channel walls to open even more, coaxing his cock to harden again. She moaned, moved a hand on top of his to hold his fingers inside her, and shuddered, as he rubbed the fingers up and down on her walls inside her.

"And it doesn't matter to you that we are sister and brother?" he regained his train of query.

Another pause. "It means nothing to me, no. Does it mean something to you?"

"Not that, no," Evan answered. But there was something that meant something to him. That Suzie had used him to get back at Lena. And now had complicated so much. Suzie had been special. Evan had thought of her in ways he'd thought of no other woman. And Suzie had used him.

"Oh, Evan, yes, yes," Suzie was moaning. "Again, yes. Yesssss!"

Evan had extracted his fingers and his cock was alive again inside her. Lengthening, thickening, throbbing, stretching her walls on its own. Beginning to move again. Faster, deeper, harder. He took her mouth brutally in his for a kiss and then released her lips so that she could throw her head back, cry out to the crossbeams in the ceiling of the gazebo, and set her hips in motion. Fuck, fuck, fuck, and then the strong, prodigious release of cum deep inside her again. Giving her another shot of a bazillion squirmy sperm.

Sighs and kisses. Gliding of hands into crevices and over mounds. Squeezing the tits; rolling the balls, aching from the release of cum, working on building up another load. Humping, humping, humping . . . to a third seeding of his lover . . . his sister . . . a woman who had deceived him to punish their mother. A woman heavily risking punishment herself—and not even being fully aware of it.

Withholding vital information from the withholder of vital information.

That night, Evan stole into Aunt Helena's room and fucked her twice without a condom too.

The next day, declaring that he had word that his father was ill—a blatant lie, but much less harmful than the lies Evan had been told of late, or, at least, gross evasions of the truth—and Evan was on a plane back to Maryland and College Park.