Secret No Longer Ch. 03

I wanted to leave, to avoid the inevitable, but could not. I pressed my eye against the wall even harder and Jannie slowly wound down from her peak.

And now, the time I equally craved and dreaded had come.

The scene is seared in my memory, recorded in slow-motion, every millisecond a unique and distinct frame. With aching slowness, Mom sought her balance with her hands, turned toward me, sat up, and in an instant, displayed her full frontal magnificence to my eyes. At 38 years she had breasts plenty of women my own age would pay surgeons very well to even approximate. And that narrow waist flowing into those perfect hips again! Now the periphery of that entire region became a gilded frame designed to flatter and enhance the splendor of the tiny region enclosed by the meeting of her legs and the framing effect of her jet-black, perfect pubic patch.

My God, Jason, you are looking at the very spot where you spent the first months of your existence, the very womb that gave you birth, the very one into whose celestially magnificent realm your dear father once spilled his own seed in ecstasy, causing the formation of a single cell which then multiplied over and over again, and now the stuff, the very substance of that multiplication was crouched behind a wall, straining to steal but a trace of that ecstasy for itself. My entire body was trembling, weak, my viscera like jelly. A mere slave to the vision, I continued to watch.

Right by the script of my expectations, Jannie and Mom moved until she straddled Jannie's face. With that same expert technique, Jannie's tongue commenced the same initially slow and gentle, but steadily accelerating, dance of Sapphic sex. Mom began to respond and in moments the ultimate in overwhelming force struck my soul, dwarfing even the thermonuclear impact Jannie had had on me.

Now it was Mom's bucking and thrusting that animated her body into the same pageant which, it seemed, was scripted solely for me. Those breasts were alive in themselves, swaying a symphony of lust directly into the ears of my libido, taunting me with the foolish message that I should have taken the opportunity to savor their sexual irresistibility twenty years ago, when I then only cared about a meal from them. My eyes helplessly drifted downward until they locked onto the point of union of her vagina and Jannie's tongue, once again rising from her half-reclined position to shout to me, not just to offer, but to demand, my full attention to the Dance of Fire being performed there.

At about this time my hand had drifted downward to dangle against the outside of my leg. By sheer accident, it swung like a pendulum until it grazed by exposed and aching cock. That mere instant of contact destroyed all traces of self-control, demanding the return of my fingers, which massaged it for, I swear, no more than a few seconds before the pent-up force of all I had witnessed burst forth in a furious torrent against the wall. On and on the explosion continued, it seemed, for minutes. As the depths and dregs of the man-milk drained, I felt my body fold and collapse to the floor, spent, exhausted, dazed, devoid of awareness of anything but the fading short-term memory of what I had just seen.

I can't say how long I stayed there before I managed to pull myself together, zip up my jeans and tensely open the door, hoping I would not be seen and therefore trigger even the tiniest suspicion of where I had been and what I had done for the past hour.

Four months were to elapse from that day before I summoned the strength to risk the cessation of this blessed pageant by disclosing it to my father, the details of which disclosure he has already enshrined in these pages.

(to be continued)