Mom just nodded her head at me and broke out in a big smile, which I took as her way of non-verbally telling me, “Yes, son. I’d really like that a lot!”
“How about you Lacey?” I asked, as I was still watching her stick her sperm-covered fingertips up deep into her own vagina, and then rub her fingertips against her vaginal walls, before pulling them out and waiting for another little glob of sperm to be transferred to them by yours truly. “Are you okay with just sitting in the chair over there across the room, and watching me and Mom fornicate?”
“Oh fuck yes! You bet I am! I wouldn’t miss the chance to watch my big brother cum inside my own mother’s birth canal. It just doesn’t get much more kinky or erotic than that!” Lacey admitted, whole-heartedly endorsing my plan.
“I agree!” Mom chimed in. “I’m getting wet right now, just thinking about it–much less actually doing it.”
“Mom?” I asked, “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but would it be okay with you if we don’t French-kiss from now on whenever I have sex with you? I mean, it just felt really weird and awkward while we were Frenching last night.
“Now, don’t get me wrong. I don’t mind the ‘quick kisses on the lips, or the cheek’ stuff, because we’ve been doing that kind of stuff for as long back as I can remember. So it feels totally natural to me.
“But the ‘open-mouth kissing with tongues stuck in each other’s mouths’ stuff felt really weird and uncomfortable to me.”
“I know exactly what you mean. Last night, I asked you not to kiss me on the lips, remember? But you went ahead and did it anyway, didn’t you?” Mom reprimanded me. “And it felt weird to me too last night, while you were doing it.”
“So then, why didn’t you pull away from me and stop?”
“I tried. But you just ignored me and started French-kissing me anyway.”
“But you acted like you were really enjoying the French-kissing part?”
“That’s because there was a part of me that was enjoying it. And at first, I got caught up in the moment, because I hadn’t been passionately French-kissed like that since your dad died. But then, even though I wanted to, I was afraid to pull away from you once we had started French-kissing like that, because I didn’t want to disappoint you, and risk having our first-ever intercourse be a let-down for you.”
“So then, what you’re saying here is that you actually don’t want me to French-kiss you during sex anymore?”
“That’s exactly right. Like I already told you, I don’t want you to kiss me on the lips at all when we’re having sex, because that can easily lead to us French-kissing.
“Maybe this might help you understand how I feel about French-kissing. Back when Ben and I were having sex in front of your father, Ben kissed me on the neck, and on the cheek from time to time. But after that very first sexual encounter with Ben, we never opened up our mouths and French-kissed the entire time that Ben was in Sam’s and my life.
“That’s because I reserved that very special type of passionate kissing for Sam. And it just felt like the right thing to do, when Sam and I were doing it together. But it just felt wrong doing it with Ben.
“But during that very first time with Ben, he French-kissed me, right in front of Sam. And that was so embarrassing for me that I nearly got up out of bed and ran out of the bedroom. The only thing that stopped me from doing that, was that Ben was on top of me, humping away at my pussy at the same time that he was French-kissing me. Just like you were doing last night.
“Looking back on it all, I didn’t know why it was so embarrassing and uncomfortable for me to have Ben’s tongue in my mouth, when I had already had his dick in my mouth, while I was giving him a blowjob earlier, and of course, his dick inside my pussy too. But it just was. And I couldn’t deny how I felt about it.
“Afterwards, I asked Ben not to kiss me anymore like that. And I told him that I preferred to reserve that special act for my husband. And Ben was more than happy to honor my wishes from then on.
“So the truth of the matter is that the French-kissing part was the only thing that we were doing in bed last night that made me feel weird and awkward–and yes, even embarrassed to do it with you.”
“Wow! It’s such a relief to hear that, Mom. I thought that I was the only one who felt that way about the French-kissing stuff.”
“Well, you’re not. So don’t worry about it. I told you last night that I wanted you to do whatever it was that you wanted to do. In other words, I really don’t want you to try to please me during sex, son,” Mom said, and then added, “That is, unless that’s what you are wanting to do, in order to raise your own level of sexual excitement.
“But otherwise, don’t worry about me. I’ll just reach down into this old worn-out pussy of mine and make myself cum, if I ever need to. You shouldn’t feel obligated to do that for me, when I’ve been doing that for myself for years now. I’m damn good at it too!”
“I believe you, Mom,” I said, and I finally got up out of bed, went into the master bath, got a clean washcloth, wet it under the faucet with warm water, wrang the excess water out, and then brought it back into the bedroom.
Meanwhile, Lacey, my little sister and part-time contortionist, was still in the pretzeled-up body position, except that she had finally stopped inserting her sperm-coated fingers up into her own vagina.
But now, she was doing something even more amazing. And I kept looking over at her the whole time that I was gently wiping all the left-over stickiness off Mom’s clit and her pussy.
Lacey now had her hands wrapped around each of her butt-cheeks, and she was pulling them toward her, while she had her lower face all the way down in her own crotch, and she was actually licking away and sucking on her own clitoris–which by the way, was just a normal size clitoris, and not a huge clit, like Mom had.
“Does Tim know that you can do that?” I asked Lacey, verbalizing the very first thought that came to my mind, and then realizing that I had just overstepped my boundaries.
While Lacey kept licking away at her own clit, she said, in between licks, “No, he doesn’t. I’ve never done this in front of him before. In fact, I’ve never done this in front of anybody else before now. And I don’t really know why I’m doing this now, in front of you and Mom. This is something that I usually only do every so often when I’m masturbating.”
“Well, thanks for sharing, sis. That’s some super-intimate and very erotic shit!” I complimented Lacey. “I could just stay here for hours, watching you lick and suck on your own clit like that. It’s truly mesmerizing!”
“Here, here!” Mom announce, raising up an imaginary cup of some sort of liquor or wine in her right hand, as she continued staring at her folded-up, self-licking daughter. “Why don’t you come lick my pussy next?” Mom suggested, and we all cracked up laughing.
When the laughter in the bedroom finally died down, Lacey said to Mom, “Sure, Mom. Just give me a moment to get out of this fucking body-knot that I put myself into.”
Then Mom asked her, “If it’s that much trouble, why do you do it in the first place?”
“Because I can,” Lacey said. “And because for some fucked-up reason that I don’t know, ever since I reached puberty, I have always loved to taste and smell my own pussy. It’s just something that really turns me on to do.”
“You, and just about every other woman in the world,” Mom commented. “But most of us can’t eat our own pussies, like you do. So we just stick our fingers up into our own vaginas, and then pull them out to smell and taste the pussy juices left on our fingers. I’ve done it a million times in my life so far. So don’t feel like your a weirdo for liking to taste and smell your own pussy.”
I jumped in and asked Lacey, “So why don’t you eat your own pussy in front of your husband? I’m sure it would turn him on–especially during you guys’ foreplay.”
“You don’t know Tim. I think he’d blow a gasket, and call me a freak, for doing that to myself. Besides Tim doesn’t really believe in ‘foreplay’ anymore. Nowadays, Tim’s much more of a ‘wham bam thank you ma’am’ kind of guy–except for without the ‘thank you’ part.”
And my little sister quit talking for a few moments. She was obviously mired in her own thoughts.
“Damn! That sounds like one fucked-up sex life to me. Why don’t you just leave that son of a bitch?” Mom suggested to my little sister.
“Because in all other ways, Tim is very good to me, even though he doesn’t really love me.
“But at least I know exactly where I stand with Tim. I know that I’m his trophy wife, and I’ve learned to accept it.
“And in exchange for me taking on the role of trophy wife, I get to live a life of luxury that I never would be able to enjoy or afford otherwise.
“And the main price I have had to pay for it is a pathetic sex life with my husband. But please don’t feel sorry for me. I brought all this on myself, when I went ahead and married him.
“And I knew exactly what I was getting into at the time. But I didn’t care, because I was a young naive gold-digger, and Tim is a perfect example of the kind of husband that a gold-digging woman ends up with.
“I have also gotten used to looking the other way, when I find out that Tim is secretly having sex with one of his secretaries, or when I discover that he was paying for an expensive call girl to spend the night with him every night in his hotel room when he was out of town on business for over a week. And I’m pretty sure the two of them didn’t just spend the nights together talking. It’s all just part of the game, when you’re a trophy wife, like I am.
“So now that I’ve let the cat out of the bag, I can finally tell you the real reason why I’m here right now, letting my own brother fuck me.
“Tim came up to me after he got home from his last business trip, and he told me that he wanted me to stop using birth control and let myself get pregnant, so that he could start a family with me.
“And that’s when I began questioning why on earth I would want to have a baby with a man who doesn’t even love me. And the answer was, I wouldn’t–and didn’t–want to do that.
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