Insatiable

So, here it was again. This was reality crashing in on their little earthly paradise. Sometimes it just sneaked up on them. The real world. The future. What would happen next. They had, for eighteen months or so, embarked on this insane adventure. A mother and son had willingly, enthusiastically, entered into a tempestuous, taboo-busting, and, let's not forget, illegal affair. They had chosen to live in the moment, the here and now. The sex was insane. The love was deep and profound.

But what would happen eventually? What if Terry did meet someone else? He was fucking plenty of girls on campus, although none of them compared to his Mom. One of them might move beyond the casual stage at some point. Would he keep on banging his mother then? Would she become a little thing on the side, while he developed a 'normal' relationship with someone else? Or would the sex with Maggie just stop? Could it stop? She was, as we've already established, hopelessly devoted to her son. As far as she was concerned, he was the love of her life. Could she just go back to being his mother, and nothing else? Could she welcome another woman into her home? A daughter in law? Just act like everything was normal? Could she make that sacrifice?

Or, what if they did the opposite? What if they tried to make a proper go of things? What if they tried to commit to each other? How would that even work? Would they run away together? Abandon the rest of their family? In her quiet moments, Maggie had fantasised about doing just that. She and Terry, living together as a couple. Living in a house by the sea. A cottage, with two dogs and a cat. And children. Their children. A boy and a girl. Maybe twins. Maybe more. As many children as she could squeeze out before the menopause arrived. And that wouldn't be too long.

And what about Elliott? What about Katy? What would she tell her husband and daughter? Would they sit them down for a serious talk, both she and Terry looking terribly stern? Would they explain how the two of them had fallen in love and they wanted to be together? Would they seek their understanding? Their blessing?

No, it was too crazy. Too insane. All of it. If they carried on as they were -- illicit, incestuous lovers -- things were tolerable. They could cope. But trying to reconcile this madness with the real world? That was impossible. So, that's why they couldn't talk about it. If they ignored it, reality would just go away. But both of them knew that option wasn't going to be available to them forever. At some point, reality would have to be confronted. They would have to succumb to it, or overcome it. And that point in time was getting ever closer. They both knew it.

But not today.

So, instead of discussing their future, they took a shower together. After the morning's debauchery, Maggie had demanded they get cleaned up and get dressed. Maybe they would go out somewhere for a bite to eat? Terry would have been perfectly happy to spend the rest of the day in bed. So would Maggie, to be honest, but she sometimes felt the need to be the voice of reason. The voice of sanity. She was his mother after all.

But they could have some fun 'cleaning up'. Terry fucking loved it when they showered together. His mother had this ridiculously hot body, all juicy curves and enticing flesh. So, imagine that body, naked and wet, covered in soapy bubbles, as hot water cascaded down onto it. Imagine those fat boobs sliding up and down the glass shower stall, pressed flat, all squishy and bouncy. It was a truly mesmeric sight.

Mother and son spent a good half hour just making out, kissing like newlyweds. They fondled and caressed each other, as their tongues rolled around each other's mouths. Then they lazily masturbated each other, as Terry chewed on his mother's nipples. He was, without a shadow of a doubt, a tit man. He could spend hours playing with her breasts, licking and sucking and biting. And she was happy to let him. It brought back memories of feeding him as a child. She hadn't experienced any sexual pleasure when she breastfed him as a baby, but there had been something sensuous about it. A closeness. The connection between mother and son. A connection she never thought would be equalled or repeated, let alone exceeded. Now she knew differently.

She slowly sank to her knees and started jerking him off with greater intensity. As a rule, he liked to cum inside her. In her mouth, her cunt, her asshole. That was usually her preference too. But sometimes she liked him to squirt his jizz over her face or her tits. This was one of those times. She knelt there in front of him, her mouth open and her tongue out. Then he came, dumping a fairly modest load over her chest. This was his third deposit of the day, after all. Then they got up, made out for a couple more minutes, then turned the shower off and went to get dressed.

It was while Maggie was climbing back into her maxi-dress, that the downstairs phone started ringing. She was almost tempted to let it go to answerphone, but her conscience prevailed and she quickly disappeared out of the bedroom. Terry reclined on the bed, only wearing a pair of jeans. He still had high hopes of persuading his mother to fool around a little more, when she suddenly shouted out to him from downstairs.

"Terry! Quickly, come here!"

He shot up and ran to the landing. He could see his mother at the foot of the stairs, a shocked look on her face.

"What's wrong, Mom?"

"It's your father. He's in hospital. They think he's had a heart attack."

4

To their credit, neither Maggie or Terry ever contemplated the thought you might have expected them to at that precise moment. A thought that some of a more unscrupulous nature would say was kind of obvious in their unusual situation. Namely, wouldn't Elliott's absence be sort of good news for the pair of them? It would certainly resolve some long-term problems. If you are a married woman and you are having an affair, the sudden and complete departure of your husband from the scene, would make that affair a little less complicated. That was doubly true when you remembered that the married woman in question was having an affair with her own biological son.

But neither of them even considered the possibility, as they clambered into Maggie's car and set off to pick up Katy, before heading to the hospital. In truth, why would they? They were both guilty of a terrible act of betrayal, an ongoing and repeated act of betrayal, but they weren't monsters. Fucking each other didn't mean they lost all compassion and empathy for everyone else.

Maggie had known Elliott for nearly 25 years, they'd been married for more than two decades. It was a stale marriage, sure, but it wasn't completely loveless. She still had a lot of affection for her husband, even if she had now found greater emotional and sexual satisfaction in the arms of her son. And Elliott had helped create that son. He wouldn't be here without him.

As for Terry, well Elliott was his Dad. He loved him. End of story. Yes, there was this crazy, fucked up situation they found themselves in. Yes, Terry had been secretly resentful of his father, since he wanted sole access to his mother's body. But a son can still love his father, even if he happens to be fucking his mother on a regular basis.

In a strange way, this sudden, unwanted development had temporarily thrown them both back into an older, more conventional version of their relationship. Ever since the first time Terry had rammed his cock inside his mother's pussy, everything had changed between them. The dynamic was new and it could be more than a little disorienting. They were mother and son. But they were lovers too. She had to treat him as an adult, not as a child. He had to try and relate to her as an equal, not necessarily as a figure of authority.

But now, things were the way they used to be. Terry wanted his mother's reassurance. He wanted her to be in charge and tell him everything was going to be okay. In short, he wanted her, on this occasion and this occasion alone, to be his mother and just his mother; not his lover at the same time.

It took them about twenty minutes to reach the house where Katy had been staying. Her friend Liberty lived in a slightly less well-heeled part of town. Although that distinction was only fairly marginal; it was still a nice enough place to live. In fact, Liberty's mother and father were about as well paid as Elliott was; the advantage the Molloys had was that they had bought their house much earlier, when property prices had been a little more realistic.

Katy was stood at the front door and she waved at Maggie and Terry as she saw their car come round the corner. She kissed her friend goodbye and quickly made her way to the sidewalk. Maggie could see tears in her eyes, and her heart went out to her daughter, in a way it didn't always do these days.

How do you treat your child, when you happen to be fucking their older sibling? That was a question Maggie rarely felt the need, or had the courage, to consider. But here and now, it did occur to her. She knew, with a terrible sense of guilt, that in many ways she was cheating on Katy just as much as she was cheating on Elliott. There was no sexual element in this betrayal, but it was a kind of betrayal nonetheless. She and Terry had introduced a potentially malignant cancer into their family. She knew that. It wouldn't stop her, the thrill and joy of her relationship with him was too strong, but she knew it was there. How would Katy react if she found out? How horrified would she be? Maggie didn't want to know the answer to that.

And then there was the fact that Maggie had clearly expressed a preference, in the most basic, physical way. Every parent of multiple children dreads being asked the question, 'which one is your favourite?' It's a query no parent wants to answer. Maybe some can say honestly that they don't have a preference, they love all their children equally and the same. But Maggie did have a favourite. It was Terry. It had always been Terry, long before anything sexual happened between them.

It's not that she didn't love her daughter. She did, deeply and profoundly. It's just she'd always loved Terry that little bit more. Katy was more independent, more headstrong. She and Maggie butted heads more often. Terry had been easier, more affectionate, more biddable. And then she started sleeping with him. You couldn't declare a preference more emphatically than that.

Even though she had been crying, it didn't distract from what a beautiful girl Katy was. Perhaps those red eyes made her look even more striking. She was, in physical appearance, every inch her mother's daughter. It's a terrible old cliché, but it happened to be true; the two women could pass for sisters, rather than mother and child. She was a little shorter than Maggie and she wasn't as richly upholstered, but she had the same type of build. She was blessed with an almost perfect hourglass figure. When she was a little bit younger, Katy had silently cursed her mother for passing on her body shape; she felt she was fat, especially when those big boobs appeared. But more recently she had begun to realise how lucky she was. She had begun to enjoy the attention she was getting.

Not that she was thinking about that, at this moment in time. She had a glum look on her face, as she embraced her mother.

"Is Dad going to be okay, Mom?"

"I don't know honey, but we're going to see him right now. Get in."

Katy did as she was told and clambered into the back seat. She was wearing a pair of white sneakers, a very short, plaid mini-skirt, a tight white blouse and an equally tight black cardigan. It was difficult to miss the vast expanse of creamy, white flesh on display as Katy crossed her legs, those shapely thighs evident in all their youthful glory. Nor could you miss the fleeting glimpse of pink cotton panties. Terry certainly noticed. Yes, this was a stressful time, but he was twenty years old and his sister was a babe. Young men are almost always thinking with their dicks, even when a family crisis is taking place.

The fact she was his sister? Well, if Terry had done nothing else, he had certainly proven that sexual taboos, when it came to your family, were not a major issue for him.

"Hey, sis. You okay?"

"Yeah. Let's go."

With that, Terry slipped the car into drive and sped off to the hospital.

5

It turned out, it wasn't a heart attack. Elliott had been playing golf with a couple of his work buddies, when he suddenly complained of chests pains and collapsed on the eighth tee. Only, once he'd been shipped into the ER, did he admit to having similar symptoms for the previous few days. Like most men, he kept the news to himself, and instead of going to see a doctor, he had hoped the problem would just disappear.

It was, in fact, quite a nasty chest infection. A strong course of antibiotics should take care of it in a few days, but there had been one complication. When he took that tumble at the golf course, he ended up landing badly and breaking his wrist. Which was why his forearm was up in plaster, as he lay in bed in a room on the third floor of the hospital.

Elliott was half dozing, as his family quietly shuffled in to see him. All of them were concerned but now a little annoyed with their collective patriarch. None had said it out loud, but each of them had privately voiced doubts to themselves about Elliott's long-term survival. When you hear the words 'heart' and 'attack' in that particular order, it tends to freak you out quite a bit. Yes, modern medicine could work wonders, but a heart attack was still a big fucking deal.

Now, that it wasn't a heart attack, they were all just a tiny bit angry with Elliott for giving them such a scare. Although that anger evaporated once they caught sight of him in his hospital bed.

"Honey? You awake?" Maggie said softly, as she gently stroked his un-plastered forearm.

"Hey, Daddy? It's me, it's Katy."

"Hey, Dad, you okay?" Terry inquired.

Slowly, in a somewhat haphazard way, Elliott woke up. He looked kind of pathetic in a hospital gown, with an IV drip in his arm. He certainly looked old. As frightened and upset as they had been, it was nothing compared to what Elliott had experienced. For an hour or two he had genuinely believed he was on the verge of breathing his last. That's going to frighten the shit out of you, even once it's clear you would live to fight another day.

"Maggie? Terry? Katy-pie?"

Katy-pie had been Elliott's nickname for his daughter since she was a baby. She had always loved the name as a child, although it had gotten a little irritating as she got older. But right now, right at this very moment in time, she was delighted to hear him call it out. The sense of relief was profound. For half an hour or so, Katy had convinced herself she was going to lose her father. The fact she wasn't, filled her with joy.

She rushed forward and bent over, kissing Elliott on the forehead. That movement, combined with the positively indecent length of her skirt, meant anyone stood behind her could get a great view of her pink panties, as they rode up between the cheeks of her ass. Terry certainly noticed.

And Maggie certainly noticed that Terry had noticed.

She didn't like to admit it, but Maggie was not the only one in their relationship who suffered from a possessive streak. Yes, she let him fuck around at college, a freedom he exploited with tremendous tenacity and commitment, but she was never all that happy about it. In fact, that was the understatement of the century. She seethed with anger at the thought of him sleeping with anyone else but her.

She certainly didn't like him checking out his younger sister.

But what could she do? She knew what Terry was like, she knew what kind of appetite he had when it came to gash. Terry loved to fuck. He loved to fuck and screw all the time. Could Maggie possibly keep him satisfied? She was a crazy, horny nympho herself, but she was only one woman. She'd let him have access to her body whenever he felt the urge, but people get bored, people want variety and novelty and change. From the very beginning, Maggie had given Terry everything a young man might desire. She'd gone the extra miles to keep him happy. She'd let him have her mouth, her cunt, her ass. She'd done everything she could possibly do.

But what about a threesome?

They'd discussed sexual fantasies pretty early on in their relationship. After a particularly vigorous bout of lovemaking, they had found themselves wrapped round each other, this time on a bed in a cheap motel not far from their home. The two of them looked like that poster for the film 'Last Tango in Paris'. Both of them naked, Maggie's arms draped over Terry's shoulders, as she clung to him seemingly for dear life.

These were early days in their new existence and they still felt a little awkward in a post-coital situation. Fucking was easy. Straightforward. Right from the start. But talking to each other? That could be problematic. If anything, Maggie had chosen to 'lean in', approach the bull by the horns. Ask the outrageous. Say the unsayable.

"What's your number one sexual fantasy?" She had asked him, completely out of the blue.

"What?" He'd responded.

"What's your number one sexual fantasy? What's the one thing you'd like to do, above all else?"

"Well, sticking my dick inside my mother, has to be right up there." That aforementioned dick, still buried inside her snatch, twitched as he said those words.

She moaned for half a second, just wallowing in the intense pleasure his cock could bring her.

"Of course, I had rather taken that for granted." She replied, squeezing his cock with her experienced vaginal muscles. "But what else?"

"I don't know. Anal's kind of nice."

That was putting it rather mildly, as far as Terry was concerned. Maggie had made it perfectly clear to her son that sodomy would be a regular and intrinsic part of their love life, and she'd been as good as her word, ever since. He'd had her in the ass plenty of times by now.

"I agree. Anal is very nice. But isn't it a bit mundane? A bit humdrum?"

"It didn't feel all that mundane when we did it last night."

"No, of course not. But you know what I mean. Anal is just a regular part of the Terry and Maggie fuck-kit..."

"Fuck-kit?"

"Yeah. Our fuck-kit. The normal tools we need to make love. Your dick, my twat. My tits. My asshole. Those are the regular, every-day things we use to make whoopee."

"Whoopee?" He giggled.

"Yes, whoopee." She giggled in turn. "Are you deaf, all of a sudden? Whoopee. Lovely, sweet, sex between me and my darling little prince. But what if we want more? Something a bit more off the beaten track? Something a bit more unusual?"

"Like what?"

"Well, that's what I'm asking you. What would you want, if you could have it? What if I told you I would let you do anything?"

"Anything?"

"Yes, anything. What's top of the list? What's the number one prize? Tell me. Who knows, maybe I'll make it happen."

That seemed quite a tantalising prospect for Terry. Maggie had already let him do the one thing he had wanted to do, more than anything else. Namely, fuck her on a regular basis. But now, she was holding out the prospect of something else. Something potentially even more mind-blowing.

"A threesome. You, me and another woman."

Maggie laughed. Of course it would be a threesome. Why would she ever have thought it might be anything else? Terry was a straight man. And all straight men wanted to fuck two women at the same time. They were so, so predictable. Terry was so, so predictable.