Spy Games Ch. 02

As the afternoon turned to night we banded together in the kitchen to make dinner. It was probably the alcohol but Mom seemed even more touchy feely. At one point trying to make Scotty dance with her. My brother didn't dance! So of course it caused great amusement to Mom and myself as she pressed her body to him. The pasta threatened to boil over as Maria Callas, singing Habanera from Carmen rang through the house. We were on our third bottle of red and I couldn't remember being so full of joy. And then came the phone call from my ex-husband.

I should have ignored it. Turned the Aria up and danced with my brother. I thought of my children and took the call. It was as expected. Brett needing to rant, (probably after many bourbons and the goading of his new wife) voicing his displeasure at having to actually carry out fatherly duties. I allowed him to vent as I walked along the passage, escaping the music. The moonlight in my brother's room beckoned me and I sat on the bed as I was informed how bad a mother I was. I walked to the window only half listening and saw the treetops of the river bank, black against the starry sky as Brett feigned threats of full custody. I was transfixed by the eyes of the portrait adorning the wall, an evil looking bearded man who seemed delighted in watching me berated by the father of my children. I touched the intricate frame and the painting moved on it's hook. The faintest of light seemed to come from behind and I moved it further. Then the world changed forever.

* * * * *

Mom and Scott had served up the pasta and my bowl sat beside a freshly poured glass of Merlot. Mom offered me parmesan and I nodded as I looked her up and down. Two press studs undone at the base of her dress, the split reaching almost to her crotch, certainly revealing a lot of thigh. Unclasped at her chest, her natural cleavage displayed for just who exactly, to admire? And Scott; his shirt attempting to cover the front of his shorts. Did he think he was doing a good job of obscuring his erection?

"All good with Brett?" He asked as we headed to the living room. I thought of my mother and I changing together. Undressing; posing before the mirror. She had kissed me. Ran her hands over my ass. He'd been hard when we left the room.

"Tash?" Scott followed up as I sat beside my mother. "Did you work it out with Brett?"

"Um. Yes." I replied. "Actually I think I just worked it all out!"

I watched them interact closer. My mother, ever willing to part her legs with every movement. My brother, eager to observe. His eyes on her, devouring her. Her, not me. And why not me? I was the girl who skinny dipped with him as a child. I was the girl who gave him his first kiss. Mine were the panties she found alongside hers under his pillow, the day after his drunken 18th birthday party.

I thought of the night she told me. Herself drunkenly confessing to it and the dream she'd had not long after, making love to Scott, her own son. Did she even remember her admission? I looked at her, facing Scott, her legs spread. My tiny pink thong clearly visible between them. Scott was talking to me and I hadn't heard a word, catching only the last of it. "Remember behind most single mother's, there's usually a deadbeat dad!"

His eyes were now on me. I smiled at his words and raised my glass. As I brought it towards me I tilted it and allowed the red wine to spill down onto my jeans.

"Oh clumsy me," I chided myself.

Scott was quick to act, placing down his own glass. "Who's the butterfingers now? Come on, get them off before the stain sets in."

I was eager to comply. I was wearing a swimsuit, it wasn't as if I'd be in my underwear. Unbuttoning I stood and pulled down my jeans in front of my mother and brother.

"Use bi-carb Scott." Mom advised as I handed him my pants. He was playing coy, not openly staring at me, probably figuring he'd take sly glances later on. I followed him towards the laundry and watched as he took care of my jeans, following Mom's instructions.

"You'd be a great father Scott. You've really matured." I complimented him, standing in the bright light of the laundry. The air was cool this end of the house, my nipples poking erect through the stark white swimsuit. "Why couldn't I have met a guy like you?"

Scott turned from the machine and leaned back against it, finally looking at me.

"You're just after me for my money," he laughed.

"No," I smiled. "No I don't think so."

The humming chorus from Madame Butterfly filtered down the hallway and I closed my eyes as I leaned against the door frame. Scott went quiet as I felt his eyes on me "Mmm I love this," I sighed as I moved my hand in time with the music before casually caressing the material of my swimsuit across my stomach. Slowly raising my eyelids, Scott's eyes lifted from my breasts to my face and realising he'd been caught, pushed himself off the washing machine.

"Come on, let's get back," he proposed and as he switched off the laundry light, placed his arm around my waist and walked me out. The living room down the end of the darkened hallway seemed further off than before. The music gradually increased in volume. As we reached my brother's room I changed our course and led him inside. The beautiful, haunting, almost ethereal music coaxed my progress as I headed towards the portrait, stopping before it.

With only the moon to light his face I could see his unease at my actions. His mouth opening as I lifted the painting from the wall. As if I'd planned it, our faces were lit up by the lamp through the spy hole. My mother entered the bedroom and momentarily looked at her reflection, her gaze as if aware of her audience. She slowly undid the remaining studs on her dress and allowed it to fall to her feet as my left hand touched the front of my brother's shorts.

There was a sharp intake of breath as he felt my fingers against his growing erection. He in turn placed a hand on my bottom, cupping each of my cheeks in his palm. Our mother took the waist band of the pink thong and lowered it down her legs, stepping out of it and climbing upon the bed. I fumbled with the zipper on Scott's shorts and he was quick to help out, allowing my hand to slide inside and clasp his now fully erect cock. My brother's cock.

His hand squeezed my ass and slid onto the bare skin of my thigh. His fingers then edging under the leg band and back onto my bottom, finally delving between my cheeks and finding the wetness of my pussy. His sister's pussy.

Our eyes fixed on our mother as she pressed her back to the bedhead and stretched her legs out before her. Her hands went to her breasts. One remained, as the other sought greater glory, combing through her luscious pubic hair and onto her vulva. Her legs spread and her back arched as she encountered her wet labia, glistening even from our vantage point.

Scott's cock was rigid in my grip, the swollen head preventing my beating hand from slipping off, the dripping of pre-cum coating his underside. His fingers found my entrance and with a thumb dabbing my asshole he slid inside. One, no two fingers deep into my leaking cunt.

Our mother looked like a goddess as she masturbated in the lamplight. A hand clutching a breast, squeezing the nipple. The other furiously circling on her clit, her mouth agape. She relinquished her breast and lowered her hand to join the other. As we looked on she cupped her pussy before two fingers disappeared inside her, her stimulation of her clitoris continuing.

Scott turned to face me, pulling me around with him. The song had changed. The soaring Aria, Un Bel Di from the same opera pervading the atmosphere. His hand momentarily taken from my body only to be replaced on my pussy from the front. His fingers inside my swimsuit and inside my body. I took hold of his cock with my right, my dominant hand and renewed jerking his beautiful dick with vigour. Our bodies closed in on each other, our faces met and our mouths connected. My brother's tongue between my lips, entwined with my own. My saliva in his mouth.

Masturbating each other our faces turned in time to see our mother cum in the adjoining room. Her head thrown back, her thighs clasped tightly around her hands. Scott curled his fingers inside me, grinding against my most sensitive spot and I flooded his hand with my orgasm, my legs wobbling like jelly. He released a grunt with his expulsion of breath and lowered his mouth to my neck, kissing my skin as I felt him ejaculate against my stomach. Spurts of cum reaching my breasts, running down my swimsuit to drip onto his hand at my pussy.

Moving his head back from me I looked up into his eyes. If I'd written the scene it couldn't have been more romantic, the Aria reaching its pinnacle. Before he kissed me, he whispered "I love you" into my mouth and I think I had never felt such honesty and reciprocation. I looked again at our mother who waited in the next room. Scott took my hand and led me out into the hall and together we walked into our Mom's room.

She looked at the semen coating the front of my white one piece, her son's cock poking from his fly, my own wetness at my crotch. Holding out her hands to us, a tear forming in her eye, she smiled. "This is how it should always have been. How it should always remain."

I looked at my little brother and smiled. "Yes Mom, I definitely agree. What do you think Scotty?"

He didn't reply. His cock swelling, was answer enough.

***

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