Twenty Cups Ch. 03

That summer, she'd sent me a text. I don't know how she got my number. She told me a time and a place. I met her in the school gym. She was leading a youth dance camp and managed to sneak away. She took me to a little closet by the locker area. In the absolute darkness of that storage room, she'd done it again.

I thought about calling her, but I never found the courage. I decided to wait for another text, thinking that, when it happened, I would call her back and ask her out. The second text never came.

And that was the extent of my sexual experience until this, this insane winter break.

"Baby?"

I jumped.

Mom was halfway down the steps in her bathrobe, watching me walk across the landing towards the living room.

"I'm sorry. Didn't mean to startle you," she whispered.

I waved it off.

She came down the steps.

"Can't sleep either?" I asked.

"I heard you in the shower, and then I heard you walking around down here. I know something's wrong."

She looked tired, but gorgeous. Her breasts pushed the bathrobe forward on her chest, and the bottom barely covered the tops of her thighs.

"Tell me what's wrong, baby."

I shook my head. "Nothing, Mom."

"Your hurting," she whispered, "I know my baby." She hugged my side, and her breasts straddled my arm. One of her hands began rubbing my back. Her touch, in that moment, was warm perfection. My body buzzed, and I groaned at the feeling of her fingers on me.

She stopped, and I turned toward her.

"Did my sister...did something happen during the examination?"

I shook my head.

She stared at me for a moment, and her eyes were full of sad empathy. "Come up to bed, baby," she whispered.

I nodded, and she turned around.

She began walking up the steps, and I watched her. Her hips swayed, and her short legs, strong for her age, came into view. So feminine, I thought, the contours of those legs.

I began to follow her. Then I glanced a little higher and audibly gasped. She was a few steps ahead of me up the stairs. I was looking up the lower hem of her bathrobe at her fat little bottom and the thong panties that rode inside her bubble cheeks.

Immediately, I seized her hips and stopped her, cold. I held her with both hands and took the next two steps very slowly, never breaking my gaze from her bottom.

"Baby, what..."

I shushed her gently. When I was standing on the step directly behind her, our vastly different heights made it so that my groin was against her buttocks. I held myself there.

Mom took in a breath, and I nuzzled into her hair and kissed her neck.

She sighed sweetly.

I urged her torso forward, and she bent over, placing her hands down on one of the stairs above her. I lifted the bottom of her bathrobe up and over the tie at her waist, and then I pulled her hips into me. Her bottom was temptingly supple against me, so I did it again. I grew erect in my boxers, squeezing us together this way over and over.

She didn't speak, but cooed softly with each thrust once I grew hard. I heard myself breathing deeply and rapidly as if I'd been running. I caught the scent of her vagina, and found myself kneeling on the step behind her, yanking her tiny panties down, and pulling her bottom toward my mouth.

My tongue found her wetness, and I lapped it up. Listening to the sticky smacking of my tongue and Mom's low, gentle cries, I freed my erection and felt it.

Without a word, I kissed her vagina, drew back, and rose to my feet. I watched her back rise and fall silently. The shaft of my penis rode up her bottom, resting there like a baseball bat on a pillow. I reached down and grabbed it.

Panties around her ankles and bent over on the stairs, I mounted her from behind. Without a word, she let it happen. At first, when the fat tip sank into her, she held me, reaching back with one hand on my leg. I heard a muffled grunting and some gasping. I thought she was stopping me, but a few seconds later, the hand slipped away. I drove further inside her.

Every inch further in was a new, higher peak in pleasure. Her vagina was much tighter than Aunt Blair's, wetter and fleshier, as well, like my penis was driving into a warm-blooded, full-bodied woman and not some thin, crepe-like veil of lukewarm flesh.

Mom's hand snapped back and held me again. I stopped. She was humming her cries as silently as possible. I had buried almost three-quarters of my erection inside of her, and I felt her vagina contract slightly. She panted for a few moments, and then her hand fell from me. I held her hips and pushed the rest of myself inside her, feeling her wetness lubricate my penis as it sank home.

At the root, I gasped. That feeling. That feeling of raw, sexual power swept through me, and I felt myself throbbing inside her.

I pulled back and pushed myself into her again, grunting when the sensation hit me anew. I made love to her, savoring every second that I was fully inside.

Had either Lia or Emma half-wakened or even stirred in their sleep, the sounds would have been instantly recognizable as sex. Despite both of our attempts to remain quiet, it was unmistakable—her moaning, my grunting, the slapping of my thighs against her bottom, and the sound of tight, wet flesh sliding back and forth.

I watched the place where our bodies connected, seeing the shaft of my penis, shiny with her fluids, rhythmically drive into her just underneath her tiny anus.

My head felt dizzy, and an electric surge of pleasure rushed through me, ushering me to an even higher peak. I plunged deeper and harder, grinding myself into her. Another newer, higher peak, and I uttered a stifled cry.

Mom moaned, high and long. Suddenly, I was ejaculating.

With out bodies mashed together, my penis lurched and contracted inside her. I couldn't move, the feeling was so perfect. I felt the pumping rush of each surge of semen. I felt her vagina squeezing me spasmodically.

She collapsed forward with a sensual moan. Not ever wanting to disconnect from her, I followed. We laid on the steps, me on top of her, recovering. I kissed the back of her neck and massaged one of her breasts.

When, later, I felt my erection begin to soften inside her, I drew it out and slid my boxers over my hips. I waited for her to say something, tell me how horribly I had behaved or tell me how good it was. Something.

Nothing. It was like she was sleeping.

I touched her shoulder. She didn't move. Her eyes were closed.

I rose and pulled her panties on. She didn't react.

I couldn't just leave her there on the stairs; I picked her up and carried her to bed. She snuggled into her pillow as I pulled the sheets over her, and she sighed.

I was exhausted. I went to bed, knowing that I was actually going to fall asleep.

I did.

***

I woke with a start from a dream of Aunt Blair. She was on top of me in the midst of lowering her vagina over my erection. A condescending smirk spread across her face.

I said, "No!" as I sat up.

The light in my room was funny. It was too bright. I glanced at the clock.

1:38pm.

The next sample!

I shot out of bed, left my room, and began going downstairs.

Then, I stopped.

Mom. Last night. Right here.

Was she upset? Was she glad?

I had loved it, every bit. It somehow washed away the sickness I felt from having sex with Aunt Blair. But, not the guilt. No, that was still with me.

I went downstairs into the kitchen.

Where was everybody? I stood still and listened. Nothing.

I figured, then, that I might text Lia, find out where everyone was, and maybe see if she would come home to help me with the next sample.

I looked in the cupboard for the remaining sample jars.

They were gone.

I thought, there should be—what—eight, maybe? Nine? No, it was eight.

I checked the freezer and counted. Each jar was labeled with a date. I counted them, checking dates as I went and...what?

Today's date. There was a jar in there.

I grabbed it and looked. Sure enough, there was semen in there—not as much as usual, but there it was.

I put it back and closed the freezer door.

Mom stood there, glaring at me.

Startled, I said, "Gosh! Mom! Where..."

"I've been here the whole time. The girls are out exchanging a few gifts," she said, and her voice was sharp. "Find today's sample?"

"Uh, yeah. I was going to ask..."

"I managed to salvage some from last night's...event."

I felt my eyes widen. Mom didn't react to this.

She gestured toward the kitchen table and ordered, "Sit down."

I nodded and went to my regular spot. This didn't look good.

Mom sat across from me, more tenderly than usual. I didn't think about this. I was wondering how she fished my semen from the depths of her body.

She said, "I'm very, very sore from last night."

"Sorry, Mom..."

"You," she said, her voice cutting across mine, "mounted me. You mounted me after I told you, several times, never to do that. You ejaculated inside me. Inside me! And a mother with a vagina full of her own baby's semen better do some thinking, and I did."

I swallowed.

"It isn't entirely your fault, what happened. If I'm truthful with myself, I have to admit that—in the moment—I wanted it, too. I could have said something. I could have stopped you—should have, but we both got carried away. It's over now. Actually, everything is over, and I mean everything."

I crinkled my eyebrows.

"Oh, baby, yes. Everything. You have seven cups left, and all seven will be filled by you, alone, with no support from myself or Lia, understood?"

"But..."

"All seven. You. Alone," she flatly declared. "You are expressly forbidden from asking me or Lia for help. Emma, too, if that's what you're thinking. This has to end. It must. The women of this household cannot be your sex partners. The learning is done. You know what to do—last night proved it. This has been so, so wrong. I'm mortified by my behavior. I'm disgusted that you would exploit it the way you have been."

I began to protest.

She didn't let me. "Don't you dare tell me you weren't taking advantage. You were. The more I thought about it, the more I saw how foolish I'd been. You used me. You used your sister. You should be ashamed. You've acted the part of the shy innocent, and all the while you were the sly fox. Well, the hen house is closed. It's over."

She slapped her palm on the table, and then she rose and stalked away with the hint of a waddle in her short strides.

***

Later that afternoon, I found the seven remaining cups in my room on my desk with a note from Mom. "You, alone."

At dinner, the girls knew something was wrong between Mom and I. Every conversation they tried to start fizzled out quickly by our cold silence. Afterwards, I saw Mom whisper something to Lia. A few minutes later, they were both gone—in Mom's room probably. Mom, no doubt, was explaining how things were now.

Emma knelt beside me on the couch. "I saw it."

I looked at her. "Saw what?"

"I saw you fuck Mom on the stairs."

I couldn't speak.

Emma reached under the blanket, and her fingers grasped my penis through my sweatpants. She smiled at me. "It was...."

"Don't," I curtly spat, and I threw the blanket off and went upstairs.

I wasn't sure how to feel about what Emma had said. I knew exactly how I felt about Mom's accusation: furious.

I laid in bed, thinking I'd never be able to sleep, but the next thing I knew, it was nearing three a.m.

I sat up and went to the bathroom. Afterwards, I walked over to Mom's bedroom, and I saw her form, serene and sleeping. I wanted to walk in there and scream at her, rattle the whole house with my voice. I turned away.

I peeked in Lia's room, and there she was, on her side, her curvaceous figure draped in a blanket. I wondered if she hated me now, if she bought into what Mom was selling. I walked back to my room, but leaned in to see Emma first.

There she was, dead asleep, snoring. She was on her back with her head tilted to the side. The blanket was pushed down to her waist. Her shirt rode high, and I saw one of her hands resting on her tummy, beside her bellybutton. The other was up above her head. Under the blanket, her legs were spread wide, knees bent.

I stared at the place where the blanket dipped down between her legs.

I turned around and left, closing the door to my room silently, and then I crept back into Emma's room, closing her door behind me. She didn't quit snoring.

I walked to her bedside, watching her face. Such a cute little face surrounded by a mass of poofy, tight curls. Her red hair seemed black in the darkness of night. Emma wore a tank top, and it did not contain the girth and mass of her young, fulsome chest. I clenched my fists to stop myself from reaching out to cup them.

Looking back toward her groin, I nearly gasped at how completely vulnerable she was. She looked like a woman waiting for her lover.

I leaned over her, bending down close to her body. I looked for an outline of panties or shorts under the blanket. I couldn't tell.

Next, I wanted to see if her nipples were visible under that tight tank top, so I pivoted a little, but something stopped me. A smell.

I was over her belly button, and I leaned closer to it, a few inches away. I whiffed. There it was.

But, the smell wasn't at her navel. I glanced up, a few inches away, to her hand. I leaned closer and sniffed.

Her fingers smelled like sex, like her vagina. I rose, smiling and feeling myself begin to grow hard.

I slid my fingers under the blanket on either side of Emma, and I lifted, peering underneath.

No panties, just a clean, shorn, beautiful little knoll of creamy skin. I folded the blanket over her knees and bent close to smell her sex.

My jaw fell open as I rose up, eyes closed, burning with desire. I felt my heart pound, and my lungs pumped air. My erection stabbed into my boxers, flexing. I reached down and drew it through the hole in the front.

I cautiously slipped the blanket the rest of the way off of her legs, and then I gently climbed into the bed between them. My eyes fixed on her vagina as I inched closer. I stopped where the air around my face was warm and filled with the aroma of her most intimate place.

I kissed the lips, softening my own to feel the texture there. I kissed them again, nuzzling between them, putting her flavor on my mouth. I drew back and tasted my lips. I resisted the urge, just then, to dive in and go absolutely wild on Emma. So, I dragged my tongue over her sex, the whole thing, very delicately.

Then, I listened.

She wasn't snoring anymore. Did she know?

Did I care?

No, actually. I loved Emma's vagina, and I wanted to explore it with my tongue and savor every taste and texture I found.

I opened my mouth and placed it over her labia, and I sucked and licked, sucked and licked. When I released, I flattened my tongue against her and wiggled it until she opened for me, and then I kissed the inside of her. I kissed her clitoris and pinched it against my upper lip with my tongue. And again. And again, because Emma liked it. She moaned, and her fingers buried themselves in my hair, kneading my scalp, and urging me on.

She whispered, "Yes."

I looked up, and she was watching me. Her other hand was under her tank top, and I saw how her fingertips rhythmically caressed what I presumed was her nipple.

Looking into each other's eyes, she asked me, "Do you still like it?"

I kissed it, and rising up, whispered, "Never want to stop, Emma."

"Does my pussy make you hard?"

I rolled to my side, and, taking her foot, brought it to my erection. Emma let out a kind of giggling gasp. I rolled back to my stomach, slid my hands under her bottom, and lifted her to my mouth like a chalice of nectar.

"Oh, shit," she whispered.

I stuck my tongue inside her as far as it would go, and I wiggled it there, searching her with the tip.

"Do that again," she huffed. I did, and she stifled a cry, turning it into a squeak. She used both hands to draw me in still further, and I listened to her airy moan.

She let go of me.

I sensed her legs moving and looked up. She grabbed her ankles and pulled them back toward her ears. Below, her vagina rose and underneath it, her little butthole.

"Lick it. Please. Like you did for Lia. I want to know what it feels like," she whispered shyly.

I placed my hand on the back of her thigh and rubbed her clitoris with my index and middle fingers. Then, I leaned down and kissed Emma's anus, and then I licked it, and then I made out with it—kissing, licking, sucking—coating it with saliva and washing it clean with my tongue while my fingers rubbed circles on her little nub.

"Oh! Oh, no, that's so good. Don't stop."

I didn't, and soon Emma's head was on the mattress, and she'd let go of her ankles and pulled the pillow over her face to muffle her sweet sounds.

I wasn't sure if it was a full orgasm, but I know she liked it.

She lowered herself, letting her legs down, and I drew back. I watched her breasts rise and fall with each panting breath.

I kissed her vagina and dabbed it with my tongue a little, listening to her recover, enjoying the feeling of being between her legs.

Finally, she spoke. "Did you bring one of those jars for your sperm?"

"Emma, we can't. I can't. Mom's really mad at me, and she banned me from getting any help with that."

Emma sat up. "Do you mean...do you mean that what I saw...that's why she was so mad earlier? She's mad at you for fucking her?"

"Emma, come on."

"Oh, don't be a prude. That's what I saw. I saw you fucking her on the stairs."

"Okay, okay. Yes—to answer your question. That's why she's mad."

"No way."

I nodded.

"But, she was into it! Hell, I was into it. It was the most erotic thing I'd ever seen in my life. I fingered myself tonight thinking about it."

"You did?"

"Yes!" Emma stared at me, and then shook her head. "What did she say to you?"

"Said I took advantage. Said she'd thought about it and decided how wrong it was. Then she banned me."

Emma considered this, and then looked at me suspiciously. "Then why did you come here tonight?"

I smiled sheepishly. "Peeked in and you looked beautiful and sexy, and I promised you I would do it for you." I hesitated, and then added, "And I smelled your fingers."

Now, she smiled coyly. "You did?"

I nodded. "How much do you do it?"

"Touch it? Almost every night." She saw my surprise, and clarified. "I...I don't have an orgasm every night, but...I don't know...I do it right before I go to bed, like, nearly every night. It helps me sleep."

I nodded.

She went on. "But, I'll tell you this: I've been getting off a lot more lately...ever since I saw you and Lia, and then after you tasted me, and then after I gave you that blowjob, and now, after I saw you and Mom on the stairs. I've probably had an orgasm almost every night, masturbating, and thinking about those things."

"How much did you see? Of me and Mom, I mean. "

"I woke up and heard something downstairs. Then, I heard Mom come out of her room and go down. I heard your voices, and I was starting to go back to sleep, and then...then I heard her breathing and making sounds. I got up and listened at my door. When she moaned, I looked, and you were behind her, grinding. I watched the rest, and I couldn't believe my eyes. I was so wet and horny."

"It doesn't gross you out?"

"No!" she whisper-screamed, and then, more calmly, explained, "I mean, you'd think it would, but it didn't. I don't know. It was like that watching you and Lia from your closet. If someone said, 'Now you're going to watch your brother eat your sister's pussy and see her give him a blowjob,' I would've said, 'Fuck off, that's sick.' But seeing it happen for myself in real life? It was amazing. It was just...so passionate. It made what I'd been doing with Kevin seem like...I don't know...like monkeys jacking off, by comparison."