Zinnia Blossoms Ch. 03

All our bedrooms are on the upper floor. The lower floor is dominated by a fair-sized kitchen and a really big lounge room. There's other stuff on both floors but the point is that if we want to sleep (or whatever) it's on the upper floor. Mum has the master bedroom, Sally and Sandy share a room (and wouldn't have it any other way) and I have mine. We each have an ensuite; one of the reasons Mum and Dickface Dad picked it was because of the ensuites. You don't try to force a brother and twin sisters to share a bathroom without there being repercussions and consanguineous sex was not on their list of concerns at the time.

My mother went a bit nuts when Dad left. I got angry, my sisters did pretty much the same and Mum fell apart. She was as strong as she could be in front of us but privately she was going to pieces. One morning she came down to breakfast in messed-up makeup and with her head completely bald. I don't mean shaved to stubble, I mean completely shiny bald. You really don't get how much pain someone is in until they do something like that - I'm not saying shaving your head is a sign of pain but Mum took such good care of her hair, it was the last thing she felt she had from her younger years that she felt made her pretty, I guess. It was part of her personality and she just... got rid of it. It was like watching her try to die.

Anyway, now she has a hot pixie cut.

My point, if I can actually get to it, is that she's a sensitive soul with a really big heart and Dad leaving crushed her. She still has bad days.

I 'd walked toward my room after getting out of the shower. I was warm, slightly pink and freshly clothed. There's something about putting on fresh clothes that I love. Sure, it was my courier uniform and not something I'd actually choose to wear, but it was still clean.

Then I heard that whimper I mentioned. Then something like a sob.

I know the sound of my mother's voice. Even if the fact that it was coming from my mother's room wasn't a giveaway the tone was one I'd heard too often at night (or thought I had). I hadn't seen my sisters so I assumed either they were in there with her, likely hugging it out on the bed while Mum tried not to cry, or Mum was in need of a hug and my sisters were out.

So I went in. I knocked but I have this nasty tendency to knock really softly and if someone is crying (or whatever) they probably aren't going to hear me. Mum didn't.

She was certainly in need of something but a hug wasn't it.

*****

EDIT: I've written this next description a few times. This is all months ago, like I said, so my acceptance of the situation has shifted a bit.

Sorry if this next bit makes you feel awkward. Getting into detail is cathartic, though, if I've even spelled that right.

*****

There is a desk in my mother's room and on that desk is my mother's computer. In front of the desk is my mother's chair and at that point, sitting in my mother's chair, was my mother.

She'd just had her shower, I guess. Her hair was wet and she was in her dressing gown. The dressing gown in question was pulled open - and I mean all the way.

Her breasts were heaving up and down with her breathing. Her whole chest was a kind of bright scarlet red and so was her face and her neck, too. She has really nice breasts and distinct nipples - what I mean is the areola bit doesn't blend into the skin around it, each breast has a really obvious line. And her nipples were really hard, really big.

Mum had one of her hands up, cupping and squeezing one of her breasts (I have trouble calling them anything more crude) and her other hand was wrapped around this goddamn big dildo. It was that dildo she was pumping in and out of herself as fast and furious as she could go.

It was weird, to say the least. One of her legs was propped up on her desk and she was leaning her chair back in exactly the same way she's trained me not to. Her pussy has these lovely shapely lips and it blushes rosy red when she's horny. She was so damn wet that I could very clearly hear, now that the door was open, each squishy squelch as she buried the silicone cock into her body over and over.

This is stuff I saw in a split second, of course. She saw the door open out of the corner of her eye, tried to pull herself up, lost her balance and came down with a crash on her back. There was a huge thump as her head hit the floorboards, too, and then this weird surreal moment: the shock had made her tense up and her dildo got pushed right out, bounced wetly across the floor and stopped at my left foot.

See, falling over backward like that is exactly why she taught us kids not to tilt out chairs backward. We took her more seriously after Sandy had to get rushed to the hospital one day with a concussion and a need for four stitches in the back of her scalp.

That was under very different circumstances, though.

Now, let's be clear - I'm not the smartest person in the world and I'm the dumbest in my family by a fair margin. Having said that I'm not stupid compared to the rest of the world. Nonetheless it's a really fucking weird thing to see your Mum fucking herself into a froth of a morning (or it is for me).

Also, kids don't normally comprehend their parents as sexual beings. They are, of course, otherwise they wouldn't have kids, but the connection of 'that is my mother' to 'that is my mother fucking herself with a 7" artificial dong' isn't one most people ever need to make.

So I stared at her stupidly for way longer than I should have. When I DID move it was toward her, not away; she'd hit her head really hard and I wanted to make sure she was all right.

I'll tell you what, her lungs sure as heck weren't damaged. She yelled at me to get out and that's exactly what I did. I fucking RAN out and downstairs.

*****

I sat there a good while completely failing to cope with what I'd seen. Not just seen, either; if you know what it smells like when a woman is masturbating desperately in the open air of a room - not under the covers but right there, totally exposed - then you know the smell that was still clinging to my senses.

The hot, steamy juices... of my mother.

If you don't imagine how much that can throw a guy then you're probably never going to be able to.

If it were anyone else I just knew I'd have a raging boner. It took me a few seconds to work out that I did, in fact, have a raging boner and then I didn't know what the fuck to think.

So I made coffee.

Hey, simple solutions are sometimes the best. Besides, it'd give me a different smell to think about. Either way it passed a bit of time and before long the shock had died down a bit, not to mention the stiffness in my rod.

When feet came down the stairs I was momentarily worried it was my sisters. There was only one pair, though, and it's rare they're out of each others' sight. It was my mother and that scared me a hell of a lot more.

Maybe.

She'd cleaned herself up, though she was still red around the neck. I'd never seen that kind of effect on a woman, that extended kind of flush. I didn't get hard again at the thought; I guess I was just too petrified. I couldn't look at her but she went past me without a word and got a bag of frozen beans or something out to put on her bump.

The conversation that followed was brief and about as awkward as you'd expect. She tried to apologise, I tried to tell her not to, that kind of thing. See, the way I figure, she's a fully-grown woman. While I hadn't really thought of her as sexual before that point I'd realised, in my coffee-cup philosophy moments before she came down to the kitchen, that she's been celibate since Dad left. Probably a bit before, I guess; I don't know how often they were Doing It.

And, I mean, internet. If you can't find something on the net to get you off then you're probably just not looking hard enough. Or you're asexual. No disrespect to the Aces.

So I took a deep breath and took my chance by telling her that. I mean, she wasn't strangling puppies or anything. I think I said that, actually.

Then my sisters came in.

They saw us, paid exactly as much attention as they typically do, and went out again. Then Sandy came right back in.

"If you've hit her..." I can't remember the exact words but the jist was that if I'd hit Mum - Sandy had seen the bag of miscellaneous frozen vegetables - then she's cut my dick off and feed it to me.

It actually took a moment for me to realise she meant if I'd hit MUM. No matter how much shit my sisters levelled at the girls I bring home, nothing had prepared me for that. Me? Hit Mum? I wouldn't. I just...

I guess some guys would have seen red, or whatever the term is. I just sort of sank in on myself. That she'd even think me capable of it hurt like I'd never have expected.

It was a shitty moment. When she realised she'd gotten the situation wrong - not at all uncommon for Sandy - she backed off and vanished into the lounge room.

Then Mum suggested she should maybe start dating. And that's when I found that while I might get pissy about my family getting protective over me when it comes to affairs of the heart, well, I'm just as bad.

*****

With that drama over and my head still swimming a bit with the memory of the sights, sounds and smells of my mother frigging herself, with my heart still heavy because of Sandy's accusation, I left for work.

I enjoy my job well enough on most days and I came in feeling like it'd be good to get my head down and avoid thinking for a while. I bustled in, waving hi to a few people, grinning at the cute tea lady and stealing a doughnut on the way past, giving her a wink that she tittered at. I don't know why, it's not like I said anything funny.

Things don't work out the way we'd like, though. Of course they don't. Why would they? So instead of hauling arse and boxes, keeping myself busy and earning my way, I was doing all of those things rather badly because the image of my mother's breasts and the memory of her smell kept coming back.

It wasn't like I was turned on all day. I really wasn't. It was more one of those 'can't unsee' moments and my brain wasn't going to put it on hold until it'd processed the information.

I was supposed to work late but my boss came up to me near my normal finish time. He's a nice guy, nothing like my previous boss, and he basically told me to go home and work late a different day because my work had been shit. Only he said it nicely.

So I went home, planning on an early night to make up for the previous late one.

*****

My evening got more embarrassing when I got home because the instant I was in the door I was confronted by the unexpected vision of my sister's breasts bouncing free of her t-shirt.

That... might require some explanation but that's basically how it went from my perspective. Put car in park, undo seat belt, get out, open door, boobs.

I couldn't tell whose they were at first. Sandy and Sally have this thing where they like to dress mostly identically. I remember, though, thinking they were probably Sally's because they were less tanned than I'd have expected from beach-bunny Sandy (one of the reasons she's named 'Sandy' in these stories).

Either way, these breasts were smaller but higher and more firm than Mum's - though the way my sister's arms were stretched upward did rather pull them into a different shape than Mum's were, laying almost horizontal, arms down by her sides. The areolas were less distinct, too, and the nipples definitely less hard.

But that exact moment when a t-shirt is peeled away and breasts do that awesome 'boing' bounce... Yeah, that's when I walked in.

Sally and I stared at one another when we realised what had happened. Okay, she stared at me, my eyes were glued to her breasts. I hadn't seen her topless since she was twelve and damn, how she'd grown. My brain was still parsing what I was looking (again, rather stupidly) at when Sandy's squeal of surprise at the scene basically brought us both down to earth.

They rushed upstairs. I was mortified. I hadn't even seen Sandy walk straight up at me, about to say something that I later worked out was going to be an apology, so startled by Sally's breasts had I been. Deer in the headlights, indeed. I heard a door slam, hurried conversation and then the door opened again.

When Sandy came back down at full speed I was rubbing my eyes. Here it came.

"Shitburgers, what are you doing home? I thought you were working late," she panted at me. She didn't seem to know if she wanted to laugh, yell or both.

"I..." Shit, how to explain this? "My boss told me to come home and work late a different night. Something about him, uh, being late for... Cross-Fit training..?"

That seemed just ridiculous enough to trigger laughter reflex and in a second Sandy was bent over, hands on knees, giggling breathlessly, a hand clamped over her mouth to stop the noise. I thought that was a bit weird, really, as if she didn't want Sally to know she wasn't angry. Then again I've seen her burst out laughing when she was furious before so it's hard to tell with Sandy.

Then without warning the energy just seemed to go out of her and she sat down heavily at the table. I sat opposite, taking it as my cue that things were about to get serious.

I'm not sure if I can adequately explain how strange it is to talk to only one of my sisters. Typically they're thick as thieves, so close to each other that Mum's accused them before of being Siamese twins rather than the regular sort. When you get one of them on their own you kind of keep expecting the other one to materialise out of thin air nearby.

What Sandy was thinking about it is hard to say. Do they miss each other when they're just in the next room? I don't know. Sometimes they seem more like lovers than sisters.

Then the thought of my mother sitting there all... exposed, you know, that thought ran through my head and I couldn't help but blush. I ducked my head but Sandy had seen it. Of course she'd seen it. The day was turning out to be too fucking weird for me to be lucky enough to have that blush go unnoticed.

"Yeah, that was weird," Sandy admitted, clearly thinking I was thinking about seeing Sally topless. And then she pulled her t-shirt up and flashed me.

Just like that. One moment, talking. Next moment, boobs.

And I did exactly the same thing - eyes wide, I stared in shock, my mouth falling open. It took me a few seconds to tear my eyes away and when I did I screwed them up tight and rubbed at them, sighing heavily.

"Did you really have to do that?" I asked.

"You don't like them?" Sandy sounded hurt but I wasn't biting.

"Trick question. Next." I could hear her t-shirt move and, risking a glance, saw she'd pulled it back down into place. "So what was that for?"

Sandy shrugged carelessly. "I wanted to see if you were some creeper leching over his sister or whether you were just stunned by headlights."

"Thanks," I smirked. "And it had nothing to do with you specifically wanting me to perve at you."

"Maybe," she offered, deadpan. She tilted her head to one side slightly as I blushed and then grinned widely. "I'm joking, Dane. I prefer my guys less related to me."

"That's a mercy," I muttered, trying without success to forget that my sister had just flashed me. And possibly stealth-hit on me. "Got a verdict, then? Am I a lech or just a boy?"

Sandy tilted her head this way and that as if undecided. "Jury's still out, I think, though Iguessyou could be both." There was a slight pause and what came out of her mouth next almost floored me. "Would you like to fuck me? Really quick, before Sally comes back down?"

I know my mouth opened and closed more than once. I know my face - which was already red from embarrassment - felt like it was on fire. But I also know my eyes dropped to her shirt-clad boobs for just long enough.

"What? No, eww." I meant it, too, even though my hormones were starting to kick in and my mind was awhirl with a potent mix of confusion, anger, humiliation and a deep, secret undercurrent of arousal.

"Shit, you could've just said 'No thanks,' Dane," Sandy huffed, crossing her arms over her body (which only pushed her breasts together and upward a little more, though I think she was genuinely hurt enough that she didn't realise). "'Eww' is a bit harsh, don't you think?"

I rubbed my hand over my forehead and sighed. "Sandy, if you were any other girl, if you weren't my sister, it'd be a totally different mater." And I meant that, too.

That's the Westermarck Effect. Even though you'd normally want it, you don't. Even if you actually do.Especiallyif you actually do. Weird, huh?

Sandy gave me a kind of side-eye smile at that. I'd soothed her hurt pride and that perked her up a bit. I mean, don't take that as meaning my sisters are facile, but don't most people like to feel desired, even if by people they don't have desire for back?

Then again maybe shediddesire me, even then. Shit, I hadn't thought of that before. That'd change the whole tone of that conversation.

No. No. Can't be.

I think.

*****

Anyway, back to the story, which has already turned out to be alotlonger than I suspected it would.

Sandy took me upstairs almost forcibly, by the hand as it happened, and pulled me down to kiss my cheek and whispering an apology about that morning in my ear. She smelled of young woman and sporty deodorant. Then she turned me toward her door and pointed.

I could hear Sally on the other side doing something, presumably with clothing. No way was I going to walk in on her - I'd already done that to Mum and her both once today - so I knocked especially loud for me, which is probably a normal knock for anyone else.

"Come in, Dane," she called back, sounding distracted. Of course she knew it was me. Sandy would've just gone straight in.

She was checking herself out in a mirror, eyeing how she looked in this little black dress that I recognised as one of her going-out-so-don't-even-try-to-dissuade-me dresses.

The conversation that followed, well, it didn't go the way I'd expected. I think Sally understands me a bit better than Sandy does so that makes her a bit more dangerous, in a way. I apologised, she hit me for apologising, then she got angry about double standards. I walk around the house topless a fair bit, you see, so she thinks there's no reason she shouldn't be able to.

No, that's not right. Thereisno reason she shouldn't be able to, but society is stupid and does lots of things for no reason. Mind you, in this exact case, if she started going topless around the house right then I think I'd blush myself into combustion.

Nowadays we pretty much all go around topless from time to time and the funny thing is that it's sort of normalised the human form for us. Back then I'd have died of embarrassment. Nowadays it's just one more thing my family does when we don't have visitors.

But there was one point in the conversation, brief as it was, where I almost completely lost it and told her everything.

"I just wanted to make sure you were all right," I'd said. Seemed simple and innocent enough to me but it confused her.

"Why wouldn't I be?" she'd wanted to know. "You saw me topless, it's not the end of the world." And then she'd looked at me and it was as if she'd been able to look inside my mind and had seen an image of our Mum fucking herself in her chair with me standing in the doorway watching her.

I panicked, said something lame - I don't remember what - and backed out, leaving Sally staring after me.

*****

I sat in my room for a while with a head full of fuzz and confusion. Whatever I was doing, thinking about these things so obsessively, it wasn't helping me. I tried playing on my Playstation. I looked up some pretty serious (non-incestuous) porn on the net. I got two pages into a book I'd been meaning to read but the events of the day just kept going around and around in my head.