Folie a Deux, Episode 04

Mike's eyes are bright and excited as he recalls, "She took her sweet time. It was...it was like she was making love to my cock. Not me, not then, just my cock, like my cock was the only thing in the world and she was using her mouth to make it dance for her. And I remember...I remember the way the light was coming in through the window and how it lit up her hair like a halo around her head, and I was staring down at an angel adoring my cock and doing things with her mouth that nobody else ever did. She took me right up to coming, then edged me back down, then back up, then back down. I wanted to come so bad! And normally when we were together, I was in charge. But at that moment, I gave it over to her. It was her tune. She'd make me come when she wanted to."

"This was the blowjob my son deserved," Emily says firmly. "He deserved me worshipping his cock, and that was what I did. I adore oral and I wanted this to be something that he would always remember with excitement and joy. More than that, though, I wanted to learn him in the way that only extended contact can. I kept my mouth on him for perhaps 20 or 25 minutes, and when I sensed he was close I backed down, then raised him up again. And then, finally, when he was throbbing against my tongue and his moans simply didn't stop, I took him to the root and held my mouth there while he came."

"That orgasm," Mike recalls, licking his lips and smiling. "That fucking orgasm. The way I blew off I thought cum was going to shoot out of her ears, but she didn't even flinch. She held her lips tight around the base as I flooded her mouth, and I could feel her swallowing and swallowing..."

"I'd wanted to taste Mike's cum since the first time we were together," Emily tells us with a proud smile. "As I was kneeling in front of those savages with his cock in my mouth, I wanted to make him cum so badly! The sensation of a cock erupting in my mouth, the individual flavor of the man, the fact that I've put aside all pleasure for myself and focused solely on giving him the pleasure he deserves - it's all so perfect! And I have never in my life enjoyed giving oral as much as I did then."

"It was like...fuck, the room got spinny!" Mike laughs. "I couldn't catch my breath. I couldn't move. I was helpless for the longest time. I mean, if dad had walked in with a shotgun I still couldn't have moved, I was fucking paralyzed."

Emily is looking rather pleased with herself as she says, "I knew it was good from his reaction. I just watched him for the longest time, rubbing his thighs at first and then sliding up so my body could press against his. His eyes were closed and his face was beatific. He looked like a medieval painting of a saint, nothing but peace and joy on his face. He was so beautiful!"

"As I was laying there, I just kept thinking that mom had earned some serious pleasure with that," Mike says, "so as soon as I could, like, form coherent words, I told her to get right up on top of me so I could get at her pussy."

"He didn't tell me to take off my panties," Emily says, a kittenish gleam in her eyes, "so I didn't. I straddled his shoulders and lay down with my belly on his, my cheek against his abdomen, and simply gave myself over to him, to do with as he pleased."

"Her panties were completely soaked, so I gave them a long lick right up her slit, all the way back to where the cloth narrowed down to a string, then back the way I came." Mike chuckles, "I did it over and over until her hips were moving and she started muttering, 'Fuck yeah, baby' and "suck my fucking cunt.' Once I get her swearing, I know she's locked in!"

"The moment he peeled aside my panties and put his lips on me, I came hard," Emily laughs, her eyes bright and her cheeks flushed. "It was magnificent, because this time I could simply relax and feel it wash over me without knowing that we had to rush or feeling like we oughtn't be doing this at all. My sweet lover was giving me pleasure, and I could simply lie atop him and accept it, for as long as he wished to give it to me."

"The great thing about being in that position," Mike says, "is that all of her juices ran right into my mouth, and she tastes way too good to waste a drop. I could just lie there and move my mouth, and it was so easy to take her from orgasm to orgasm to orgasm, right from peak to peak.

"Plus, just having her there, feeling her weight on top of me, feeling her heat, was such a turn-on. She comes with her whole body, and I could feel her muscles twitching all in her body and her limbs. Whenever I did anything, the response was right there in the way she responded. I could instantly tell when something felt good, and how good it felt, by the way her stomach muscles danced on my chest. How fucking hot is that?"

"I loved every second of simply closing my eyes and letting my son lick me," Emily assures us with complete sincerity, "but I couldn't simply let him do all the work and get nothing in return, and his cock was right in front of me...his, sweet, thick, magnificent cock. He was already hard again, of course, because he gets hard nearly instantly after coming, so I had merely to open my mouth and take him in."

"My first 69 with mom," Mike sighs in happy reminiscence. "Not our last, that's for sure, but definitely memorable. It's so different from fucking, because I'm completely focused on giving her pleasure and she's completely focused on giving me pleasure, and neither of us are thinking about ourselves at all. She just kept coming, and now I could feel every rise and fall of her orgasms in her tongue on my cock. Man...wow!"

"I didn't want him to come in my mouth again," Emily says, then instantly corrects that to, "Well, I did want him to come in my mouth again because it's delicious and feels fantastic, but more than that I wanted that come inside me, as deep in my pussy as he could put it, because that's where his come belongs. Every single drop of it."

"And you still weren't trying to get pregnant?" the interviewer asks, his incredulousness obvious.

"No, not per se," Emily replies. "It's a simple fact that, when a woman loves a man the way I love Mike, nothing in the world can possibly feel as good as having him hammer his hard cock deep inside you and put his come into your womb. There's nothing more natural on Earth than wanting that."

"But you had to know what would eventually happen if you kept doing that," the interviewer insists.

"I wasn't thinking about it," Emily shrugs with a smile, "and if I had thought about it I wouldn't have given a fuck. That need overcame everything else."

Mike again. "We couldn't keep doing that, not when there was actual fucking in the offing. I don't think either of us even said anything or hinted. When the moment was perfect, we both knew and we didn't need anything else. She just lifted herself up, swung around, and then I was inside her."

"We moved together so perfectly," Emily says with a delighted smile. "No hesitation, no falseness, no stumbles. We were one person, one movement, one pleasure. I could hardly tell where I left off and Mike began. I don't know how long it went on because it was timeless and perfect. It was us together the way we should always have been and always be."

"There was this one moment where she was moving her hips in circles on me," Mike says. "It felt so amazing! And the light was coming in at a slant and lighting up her body and mine. It felt so warm, like we were being held in these invisible arms. She smiled down at me, and the expression on her face at that moment was just...angelic. She was an angel. I was making love to an angel. There's no way to get closer to heaven than that."

"We came together," Emily says happily. "Of course we did. And then we lay together, me atop him, face nestled into his neck, with the sun shining off the sweat we had made together."

"I never wanted to move again!" Mike laughs. "It felt too good just to be there with her. But dad was due back we didn't know when, so all we did was make out for a while, just kissing and touching and stroking. When she finally got up and reached for her panties, I kept thinking that it should always be this way between us. We should always be together like this, no rush, no pressure, just us sharing ourselves. It was what we both needed."

"Of course I put my panties on!" Emily laughs. "Mike had just put about twenty gallons of cum in me! I didn't want to stain the carpets!"

"We took a shower together, and that was just fun," Mike tells us. "Playful. We laughed, we washed each other, we fooled around a little, we sucked face in the spray. I felt her up through the towel as we dried each other off. It was a great fucking day."

"What did you do then?" the interviewer asks Emily.

"I believe," she says, "that I went to purchase some shirts."

"Shirts?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I liked to wear tee shirts around the house," she explains, "but all of mine were very baggy. I decided I wanted to emphasize my figure more, so I bought some form-fitting tees. Perhaps I was feeling less...unattractive than before. Or perhaps I simply wanted Mike to be able to appreciate me more readily. I bought shirts, came home, washed them, and was wearing one by the time Bob and Olivia got home."

We see Bob again. "I noticed the shirt immediately. The day before, when we went to the party, was the first time I'd ever seen her wear a tight tee, and here she was in a brand new one. It caught my eye."

"What did you think?" the interviewer asks.

"I was glad. Emily is a beautiful woman and has a lovely figure that she busted her ass to keep. I'd always urged her to show it off a little more, so I was glad to see her drawing attention to it. I didn't think anything else of it."

Olivia now. "They always say that someone changing the way they dress or look or losing weight or whatever is a tipoff that they're having an affair, and bam, there mom was in a tighter shirt than she ever used to wear. I asked her about it, and she was like, 'I went to the store to replace the one I borrowed yesterday and just picked some up for myself,' but I was like, yeah, OK. Sure."

"Did she replace the shirt of yours she ruined?" the interviewer asks.

"Oh yeah, with three new ones, all washed and put on my bed when I got home," Olivia chuckles, "so I made out OK!"

Black screen with white letters:

July 6 - July 23

Mike tells us, "The next couple weeks were a blur. A happy blur! Mom and I took every chance to be together, like whenever we were alone for half an hour we'd be at it like rabbits."

"What about you and Miss Williamson?" the interviewer asks as picture of a pretty redheaded teenager is shown on the screen.

The picture is labeled Hannah Williamson.

Mike reappears and says, "I forgot about her for a few days, but she was a nice girl and I didn't want to hurt her or anything, so after that I started hanging out with her again. It was weird because I felt like I was 'with' mom, so it felt like I was cheating. But at the same time...I couldn't be 'with' mom, could I? I mean, she was married to my father, not to mention the fact that she's my mom. So no matter how much heat there was there, it's not like we could, like, date, or, like, be anything more than what we were. Right?

"But there was something else too. Being in the house with mom was hard when we couldn't do anything, because...god, I wanted to do things all the time, no matter who else was in the house, no matter what else was going on. I'd see her talking with dad or on the phone with grandma or whatever, and all I'd want to do is rip off her clothes and fuck her on the floor. Being there was driving me crazy. I had to get out and take my mind off of it, and I couldn't always do stuff with friends, so sometimes Hannah was the only one there to keep my mind off things. So I talked about the whole thing with mom, and she agreed I should keep dating Hannah."

"Did you have sex with Hannah?" the interviewer asks.

"Not right away. Hannah wanted to because we had been, so it was weird and awkward that we weren't fooling around."

"What did you do?"

"We went to a movie. We went out to dinner a couple times. We went to the mall -"

"No, I meant physically."

"Oh. There was no way I could avoid kissing her. I mean she kissed me, and she wasn't taking no for an answer. And we felt each other up, you know? There was no way around that. But nothing more than that until...well, something else happened later. I made a lot of excuses in the meantime."

We see Emily again as the interviewer asks, "What did you think of Mike seeing Hannah?"

Her face sours. "I...understood his need to spend time outside the house. Acting as though nothing was happening between us was exceptionally difficult when we were forced to do it. And suddenly dropping Miss Williamson would have been cruel, given the tempo of their relationship prior to that. I also realized something he did not - that completely withdrawing from his social set would raise questions we did not want raised. He needed to maintain as much of his old life as he could. Still, I have never cared for Miss Williamson."

"What did you think of Mike seeing Hannah?" the interviewer repeats.

Emily's sour look becomes one of distinct irritation. "He had to do it. He was acting precisely how a young man acts when he is infatuated, and his friends would have noticed that. Being with Miss Williamson provided him a cover. An excuse, if you will That doesn't mean I enjoyed it, and in light of what came later I came to regret agreeing that he should see her at all."

Olivia appears again. "So I was definitely keeping an eye out for evidence, but man, mom was good at covering their tracks. Other than changing Mike's bedsheets like every single day, there was nothing I could really point to. Yeah there were these constant looks between them and they were totes giving off the vibe, but that's not evidence."

"You were collecting evidence," the interviewer says. "What were you planning to do with it?"

"I don't know!" Olivia laughs. "I wasn't thinking that far ahead, because even though I knew they were fucking, I didn't believe they were fucking. Understand the difference? I knew with my head that that was what was going on, but that didn't mean I really accepted it. I was going to need direct evidence before I'd really be convinced. Beyond convincing myself, I didn't have a plan."

Emily again. The interviewer asks, "You were with Mike many times during the next two or two-and-a-half weeks?"

Emily's smile is lascivious and delighted. "We seized every chance we had. Two, three...six times a day."

"Six times?"

"On good days," she laughs, "and those were very good days! But no day went by without us finding a way to be together at least once, even if it was only a very quick chance seized when we were in the house by ourselves for a short time."

"Did you do anything when there were others in the house?"

"Not yet," Emily replies. "We certainly began to eventually, but not right away. We were still able to exercise enough restraint to take elementary precautions - but it was definitely not easy! I had never been so hungry for sex before, and certainly not so hungry for one person!"

"What does that mean?"

Emily blushes demurely. "When I discovered sex in high school, I also discovered that I very much enjoyed it. I developed a...reputation."

"What sort of reputation?"

Her blush deepens. "As being sexually promiscuous."

"Were you?"

Her face a shining, bright red, she shifts uncomfortably and says, "I enjoyed sex and saw no reason to deprive myself. I was hardly the slut was purported to be, but I was more active than most girls and I never felt shame about it. Sex is wonderful, one of the very best things in life, and I thought it was nonsense to deprive myself of it simply to suit ridiculous and antiquated notions of morality that were, in any case, applied unequally. Why should a young man who has several partners be considered a 'cocksman' or 'player' but a girl with the same number be considered a 'slut?' If anything, I was striking a blow for women everywhere."

"...really?"

She sets her chin defiantly. "Yes."

"All right. So even then, you didn't want sex as much as you did with your son?"

"No, not even then, when my teenage hormones were raging and everything was new. And aside from that, my desires tended to be less...fixed then. I became deeply infatuated with my partners, but my infatuations were mostly short-lived and ready to move on to another partner as soon as things began to feel mundane or ordinary with the man I was with."

"How long did this continue?"

"Until Bob and I met. I believe there's already been a discussion of my reputation when when I met him. I had earned it in college, but again, it was nothing to be ashamed of. A young man certainly wouldn't have been ashamed of having multiple partners, so why ought I have been?"

"And Bob was just another infatuation."

"He was. Pregnancy altered everything, of course, and the hectic life of a financially-struggling young family effectively killed it."

"Until Mike."

"Until Mike," she agreed. "And once Mike and I simply let go and accepted our desires, I thought of almost nothing but him. Everything else began to suffer as we went, from my dancing to my housekeeping and cooking. I could focus on nothing - I'd be rehearsing for the show I was in and suddenly the other dancers would chastise me for daydreaming. Of course I was daydreaming constantly, about my son, about what we'd done, about what we'd continue to do, about what I wanted to do to him and what I wanted him to do to me. I dreamed ten thousand erotic scenarios, most of which were foolishly impossible, though no less erotic for that."

"What sort of scenarios?"

She giggles self-consciously. "Oh, the sorts of things a schoolgirl dreams about. Sex on white-sand beaches with waves crashing over us, making love in the grass under a blazing sunset, sex on a vast canopy bed with silken sheets, that sort of thing. It was all nonsense, especially for a woman rapidly approaching 40!"

"Was there one encounter between you and your son during that time that stands out in your memory?"

"There is one," she admits, her smile becoming mischievous. "Well, there are many, but one in particular encapsulates the entire thing for me just perfectly. It was about a week after the party, so Mike and I had become accustomed to enjoying each other. It was a weekend and I was alone in the house - or so I thought. I'd gathered the laundry and taken all of it into the basement. Laundry has always been a meditative experience for me. Certainly no other family member wants to help, so it has always been a time when I am left alone with my thoughts."

"What were you thinking about this time?" the interviewer asks.

"Mike!" Emily says with a laugh, as though the question was absurd. "We'd had no chance to do anything that day, and I thought we wouldn't be given the chance later because Bob was going to be coming back home in about an hour. It would have been the first day for a week that Mike and I wouldn't have made love, and that was an unpleasant prospect. I was using the quiet time to center myself. I has music on and was lost in it."

"What sort of music do you listen to when you're alone?"

"Oh, I like a lot of things my children hate," she replies with a laugh. "If memory serves, that day it was Bruce Springsteen's Greetings from Asbury Park, or possibly The Wild, the Innocent, and the E Street Shuffle. Something early, with long songs, emotional songs that a listener can get lost in. I was carefully folding clothes, very much taking my time with the task, swaying my hips and humming...and then, without warning, I felt big, strong hands on my hips."