Like Father...Like Sons

Inspired by Paul.

The chauffeur touched his hat respectfully as he opened the rear door of the big black limousine. My elder brother, Frankie, climbed into the back seat first, followed by Mom and then me. Fifty yards away and six feet below us, our father, Mom’s husband, was in his final resting place. Dead at the age of 41 through a lifetime of heavy drinking, smoking and eating. As we drove slowly to my Dad’s brother’s place for a wake, Mom, Frankie and I sat silently. The black veil that entirely covered Mom’s face obscured what everyone thought were tears of sadness and grief for the loss of a man she had been married to for nineteen years, since she had given birth to Frankie, at the age of twenty. Only the three of us knew that what Mom was hiding were tears of joy and an upturned mouth fixed in a permanent smile.

There may have been men more cruel than my Dad; I just never met any of them, that’s all. He beat us boys for the slightest little excuse, and used Mom as a slave. I remember an instance some years ago that will probably cost me thousands of dollars in shrink’s fees for the rest of my life. Dad had just watched some old sitcom where the wife implored her husband to have a talk with their son about the facts of life. He turned around to Frankie and me at the dinner table, as Mom took away our empty plates:

‘Boys, I want to tell you something that will stand you in good stead for the rest of your lives. Women are only good for three things; cookin’, cleanin’ and fuckin’. Now you’ve seen your ma do the first two, I think its about time she showed you the third.’

Mom’s face betrayed her horror. But to say anything would have brought her a severe beating, so as Dad pushed her upstairs to their bedroom, Frankie and I followed as ordered.

Dad boomed at us to hurry into the room and sit on the floor by the wall. We rushed in quickly, not wishing to feel his wrath. Then he told Mom to move around to the side of the bed where we sat and take off her dress. Mom tried to hide her tears of shame as she undid the zipper of her short, white summer dress and let it fall to the floor. At first Frankie and me were crying too. But as we looked at Dad unfastening Mom’s bra, and as her boobies fell out to our gaze, our tears dried up. Still standing behind Mom, Dad cupped her melons and then began to squeeze them hard until we noticed that her nipples were standing out proud. Then his fat fingers were inside the thin material of her white panties, and he began sliding them down over Mom’s shapely legs. He ordered her to kick them away, bend over and spread her legs. Dad positioned Mom so that she was sideways on to Frankie’s and my view. Then we stared, mesmerised, as he undid his belt and withdrew his long, stiff prick. Without any gentleness, he wet his palm with spit to lubricate his knob, and lunged it into Mom’s ass. Dad forced Mom’s head around to the left so that she was looking straight into our eyes. I couldn’t speak for Frankie, but to my eternal discredit, I had a raging hard-on. Dad continued to pound Mom’s ass as we sat and gaped at the spectacle before us. I could see his nails gouging Mom’s hips as his passion rose.

After about five minutes of slapping into her, he began to shout that he was coming. Suddenly, he yanked back a handful of Mom’s long, dark hair, which caused her head to snap back abruptly. Then he pulled his cock out of her ass and a jet of spunk shot up Mom’s back and into her hair. Dad casually flicked the last dregs of his semen over Mom’s ass cheeks and rubbed it into her with his big hands until her skin glistened. Then, as his cock became limp, he put it back into his pants and suggested we go downstairs to watch the football game, as if nothing extraordinary had just happened. I looked at Mom as we stood up. What I mean is, I looked at her body. She always wore heels. I had never, ever seen her in flat shoes; Dad wouldn’t allow it. From sideways on, and still bent over, she looked very sexy, her legs slim and shapely, encased in sheer nylons. I almost forgot who she was until Frankie, in a whisper that I knew she would hear, told me to cover my bulge and get the hell downstairs.

In my uncle’s house, Mom really let rip with the drinks, telling everyone that this was the only way she could handle the grief of the moment. In reality, Mom’s celebratory drinking was causing her to wobble slightly on her tall, black patent pumps. After about an hour, the taxi I had ordered to take us home pulled up outside the door. With insincere thanks, Mom said goodbye to our relations and walked unsteadily down the garden path, supported on each side by Frankie and me.

None of us said a word in the cab. It was only when we were all inside our house, with the front door securely bolted, that Mom slowly took off her veil, unfastened her long, black coat, and told me to get the champagne from the refrigerator.

‘It’s party time, boys.’ Mom said, enthusiastically.

By the time I returned with the bubbly and three glasses, Mom was sitting on the couch, laughing her head off. She, more than anyone, knew Dad’s cruelty, and we both understood that she deserved this triumphal moment.

I gave a full glass each to Frankie, who stood at the fireplace, and to Mom, who remained seated on the couch. I took mine and sat on the far side of the room in an easy chair. Mom quickly gulped down her first glass, which was then replenished by Frankie with great haste. The second went down just as fast, and before I knew it, I was getting the next bottle of champagne from the icebox. I had never seen Mom drink so much, and although she was tipsy, she was handling it very well. Having said that, it came to my attention that she was becoming a little careless with her demeanour. Try as I might not to look, my eyes just could not avert themselves from the expanse of nylon covered thigh that Mom was inadvertently showing. Dad had always insisted that Mom dress sexy at all times, and I suppose she hadn’t had the time or the money yet to renew her wardrobe. But her already short dress was now way up her thigh, revealing the darker material at the top of her hose, which signified that they were either stockings or hold-ups. As if that wasn’t enough, one of the slender straps that held up the loose fitting top part of her dress had fallen from her shoulders, threatening to release one of her beautiful tits. Now I don’t know about you, but a woman who lets her straps fall from her shoulders is one sexy looking piece. And when I turned away and glanced up at Frankie, I could see that he, too, had been impressed by Mom’s display

I first became alerted to my brother’s intentions when we were halfway through that second bottle. Although at that point in time, I would never have believed what was to come. As soon as Mom’s glass became empty, Frankie would race across and fill it up. Before too long, he was actually tipping the glass up to her mouth to make her drink even more quickly. I noticed also that he hadn’t even finished his first glass, yet was laughing and giggling with Mom as though he were as drunk as she. It wasn’t long before he took a seat next to Mom on the couch. From there, it was easy for him to touch her playfully in the course of their childish antics. He began rubbing her bare arm gently with the back of his hand, and once or twice he managed to brush her thigh, all the time keeping her glass topped up.

When the second bottle ran dry, Frankie got up with a speed unusual to him, announcing that he would get a third bottle. As he did so, I clearly saw the bulge in his pants that gave credence to my suspicions. But I stayed in my chair and said nothing. Just as he returned with the fresh bottle, Mom said she had to go to the bathroom. As she tried to get up from the couch, the effect of the alcohol hit her. Suddenly, in a fit of laughter, she collapsed in a heap on the floor, and in so doing, her dress fell right up to her hips, confirming that it was a pair of stockings that she was wearing. I got up and walked over to stand beside Frankie. We were both looking down on the sexy bits of white flesh between the tops of her stockings and her high riding dress. We must have stood there silently for over a minute whilst Mom laughed herself silly. Eventually, with no concern for her revealing attire, she looked up at us like we were stupid, and asked for a hand up. As we pulled her to her feet, Mom cursed the high heels she was wearing and stated that she was going to take them off before she broke her neck. At the exact second that she finished that statement, Frankie nervously butted in and advised her to keep them on, as he intended dancing with her when she came back downstairs and she knew how clumsy his feet were. Mom thought for a second and then nodded her agreement, saying as how she didn’t want broken toes from Frankie’s great big size tens. As Mom turned her back on us and teetered towards the stairs, I looked into Frankie’s eyes. They stared back at me, daring me to say something. But, for the first time in my life, at that precise moment, I suddenly became very afraid of him, and walked back to my seat in silence.

By the time Mom returned, Frankie had put on some Barry White. As Mom swayed to the music, my brother grabbed the, as yet, unopened bottle of bubbly and gave it a shake. To answer Mom’s unspoken question, Frankie volunteered that no celebration is complete without the customary champagne shower, like the winners do at major sporting events. Mom giggled as the cork flew across the room, and Frankie directed the spray of booze directly at her. He had a good aim. He completely soaked Mom’s face, neck, shoulders and the tops of her arms. As she laughed innocently, I could tell what she couldn’t; that Frankie was getting himself really worked up.

Frankie took the three-quarters empty bottle and held it up to Mom’s lips, forcing her to drink it up. Still giggling like a schoolgirl, she nearly choked as she downed the last remnants of France’s finest export. Frankie took hold of Mom around her waist, and began to lick the wine from her upper arms, saying as how this tasted much better than from a glass. As he moved up to her bare shoulders, she still didn’t object. I could see that his hands had dropped down to her thighs and he was gradually lifting her skirt higher. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Frankie was now nuzzling into Mom’s neck, and he had raised her skirt to the point where the tops of her stockings were visible, yet she still continued laughing and dancing.

I could see that Frankie was manoeuvring Mom towards the dining table at the far end of the room. He pretended to sway with the music when, in fact, he was thrusting his now obviously enlarged cock into Mom’s waist. Amazingly, she was still so happy that she was completely unaware of her eldest son’s actions. After a minute or two, Frankie had Mom pinned against the edge of the table, and was now licking his way down towards the cleavage of her breasts. At last Mom noticed that he had gone too far, and she playfully told him to stop being so fresh. But, for Frankie, there was now no turning back. Mom suddenly realised that her skirt was up around her hips and Frankie’s hands were fondling her butt. Now when she told him to stop, the levity had completely left her voice; Mom had sobered up quickly.

But Frankie wasn’t going to stop. Gripping Mom’s ass tightly, he raised her petite body onto the table. With his right hand he swept a vase and some china trinkets onto the floor, smashing them into tiny pieces as they hit. Mom was frantically pounding on his head and chest to make him stop. Frankie just pushed her down flat onto the table, her exposed thighs hanging over the edge. He held her firmly and turned around to me. There was a fire in his eyes as he spoke; the fire of lust.

‘Paul, get over here and hold Mom down while I fuck her.’ He ordered.

‘Come on bro’, he went on, ‘I can’t do both by myself. Then I’ll hold her down while you bang her.’

His voice carried with it a sense of menace that frightened me. Within seconds I found myself standing up and walking towards the table. When I got near I saw that his left hand covered Mom’s mouth while his other held her hands still.

‘Here, hold her hands over her head and stop her from screaming.’ Frankie instructed.

I looked down into Mom’s eyes. They gave away how scared she was. I took hold of her two small hands and brought them over her head, pining them firmly to the table. She let out a short scream in the second or two that it took for me to replace Frankie’s hand over her mouth with mine.

With both hands free, Frankie set to work on devouring our mother. He couldn’t pull down the thin shoulder straps because I had Mom’s arms at the back of her head. So he just snapped them. Like a man possessed, Frankie pulled down the top of Mom’s dress, and for the first time since Dad had forced us to watch him fucking her, I was staring at her beautifully firm melons. My brother’s head bent down as he gorged on their ripeness, his tongue and teeth raising her brown nipples to a firmness over which Mom had no control. Her eyes bore into mine, pleading for help, but I, too, was scared of Frankie. Soon, Mom’s breasts were covered in Frankie’s love bites, and when I saw him push the hem of her dress up so that it was around her waist, I knew he was about to enter her.

Mom sensed this as well, and she found the strength to struggle against my grip. But I held her immobile for my brother to satiate his desire, and she gave up her protest. As Frankie pulled her skimpy, black panties down her legs and threw them on the floor, my own excitement was beginning to grow. Mom’s neatly shaved pussy was now at his mercy, and Frankie looked at it like it was the holy grail, just staring at its pink, moistness. Then he sprung into life again, undoing the zipper of his pants and releasing his cock. He was in no mood for any kind of foreplay, and I barely caught sight of it before he plunged it deep into Mom’s unguarded crack. Mom let out a stifled cry as he penetrated her, and the tears began to flood out. When I looked up at my brother, he was more animal than human. His eyes were bloodshot and his lips were drawn back over his teeth like an angry dog. He lunged in and out of Mom’s pussy with a speed that I would have thought impossible to sustain for more than a couple of minutes. But it was more than a quarter-of-an-hour before the signs that he was about to shoot his load first appeared. His rhythm became slower, and his head began to roll back and forth; he was clearly trying to hold onto his spunk until the very last second. Suddenly he spoke:

‘Paul. Let go of Mom’s mouth and pinch her nostrils real tight. She’s had a champagne shower, now let’s see if she likes a Frankie shower.’

I did as I was told. Mom tried to scream, but she couldn’t do that and breathe at the same time. Within seconds, I saw Frankie pull his enlarged prick out of Mom’s vagina, and he jumped up onto the table. He lay awkwardly over Mom, holding his dick just above her cavernous mouth. When he shut his eyes momentarily, I knew he was about to explode. A thick stream of steaming, white gloopy spunk shot out of his eye and straight down Mom's throat. He had a brilliant aim, for not one single drop went outside the boundary of Mom’s lips. It all formed a pool in Mom’s mouth as she refused to consume it. Fully expended, Frankie now sat up next to her on the table. He told me not to let go of her nose, as he forced her mouth closed.

‘Swallow it Mom. Swallow it like you swallowed Dad’s for so many years.’

Eventually, she had to breathe in. And the only way she could do that was by taking down her son’s cum. As we watched the last gulp go down Mom’s throat, I decided to let her go.

I expect that kind of experience can sober you up pretty quickly. Mom had cried herself out by that time, and she silently stood up on the floor, picked up her panties, and ran upstairs to her bedroom.

‘What the fuck did you let her go for?’ Frankie said to me. ‘Don’t you want to shag her as well? I could’ve held her down for ya.’

I didn’t really know how to answer him. Sure I wanted to fuck her. Who wouldn’t after seeing what I’d just witnessed? I just didn’t want to do it in front of him, I guess.

Anyway, after about an hour, Frankie went asleep on the couch, and I sneaked upstairs. I slowly opened the door to Mom’s room. I knew it wouldn’t be locked; Dad never permitted that guarantee of privacy to any of us. As I entered the room, Mom was wide awake, lying under a sheet on her bed, staring right into my eyes. Those eyes followed me as I walked around to the far side of the bed. Her mascara had run in her tears and left their black trails behind. I spoke first:

‘Mom, I’m so sorry that Frankie was so rough with you. He just lost it for a while, that’s all.’

Mom said nothing. She just stared into my eyes. I stood there awkwardly for a minute or two, not knowing what to do. But then I saw her dress lying on the floor by the bed, and my mind was made up. I began to undo my shirt buttons. It was then that Mom spoke.

‘What are you doing?’ she asked.

‘I’m getting undressed,’ I began matter-of-factly, ‘it’s my turn.’

‘Your turn? You make me sound like a fairground ride.’

Mom pulled the sheet right up to her chin.

‘Mom, don’t make me hurt you.’ I threatened. ‘Let go of the sheet.’

Mom was a bit slow so, after I had discarded my shirt and pants, I raised my hand to her face. I saw the fear in her eyes again, and her grip on the material relaxed.

When I slightly lifted the sheet, I saw that Mom was still wearing her stockings and garter belt. They were scuffed and torn from where Frankie’s nails had dug into her thighs. That sight was enough to change my semi-hard dick into a real boner, and I eased it out of my shorts and climbed in beside Mom. She tensed up real stiff as I brought my lips down to her breasts. The love bites that Frankie had given her were beginning to turn blue already. I sucked on her teats for a while, and then licked my way down to her pussy. As I flicked at her lips and clit for a couple of minutes, I suddenly saw the tenseness go out of her hands. Five minutes’ later and Mom was gripping and tugging at the under-sheet of the bed; wow, she was starting to get turned on. I carried on moving my tongue around for a few minutes more to see if I could get her to have an orgasm. Low and behold, after fifteen minutes of me licking her cunny Mom suddenly took hold of the sides of my head and began to groan. It occurred to me that this could be the first time that anyone had ever given oral sex to Mom. I mean, I could never have seen Dad involved in any kind of foreplay, and so far as I knew, he had been her only sexual partner; apart from Frankie, of course. Unbelievably, a minute later and Mom was thrashing around in ecstasy, moaning loudly for me not to stop just yet.

After I felt the judder of a climax go right the way through her body, I eased myself up so that I could pork her. It was a different woman now. She pulled my lips to hers and forced her tongue deep into my mouth. At that very same instant, my throbbing prick slid easily into her hot, wet pussy. As I started to bang her, Mom joined in my rhythm, allowing me to force my cock deep into her womb. Our heads twisted and turned this way and that as we locked mouths and swapped saliva. I was completely lost in my pleasure. We were both so engrossed in fact, that neither of us realised that Frankie was standing by the open door.

‘You two look like a nice couple of love birds, don’t ya?’ were the words that suddenly tore Mom’s lips from mine.

‘Hiya, Frankie.’ I began, casually. ‘Just thought I’d come up and bone her.’

‘Hey, go for it little bro’, don’t let me stop ya. I just wanna look, that’s all.’