He had to agree to that, as wistfully as a teenage year old boy can. “She makes it hard to say no.”
“The deep-throat cumslut.”
“Mom! Jesus.”
Valentine was completely distracted by the smile that lit her entire face. His mom looked so happy, so aren’t-I-clever, so…close. She was plainly rocking against his hard shaft, almost but not quite grinding against him. The tear forming in the corner of her eye quivered, catching the fractured light of the hanging crystal fixture.
Her eyes drew him in. He did feel close to her, partly because of that radiating glow she beamed at him. He was her son, and his first instinct always was to make her smile or laugh or hug him close in joy. That made everything right.
That made him a good son. “I love you, Mom.”
Her smile tightened. Her brow came together. A tear rolled down her cheek, carrying the hint of a thin grey line of make-up with it.
She tucked her head down, to hide the tear, and turned in his arms. Valentine felt her lean back against him as she guided his arms around her ribs and tight stomach. His chin cleared her shoulder with little to spare, putting his nose back in the silky musk of her hair.
“I love you too, baby. More than anything.” She kept her small hands on his, two sets of arms crossed in front of her, holding them tight together. Her first sway with the music caused the narrow crevice between her muscular small cheeks to find his now-rigid thickness. They both felt her cheeks forced apart and held that way by the constant pressure being applied.
She leaned her head back, exposing her shapely neck and a view of bare smooth tan skin from shoulder plunging down to below her breasts. One of which was now almost half exposed, the sewn fabric edge of the halter appearing to be caught on the nipple itself.
It briefly seemed like a good idea to slip his fingers under the strap near her collar bone before sliding them down, lifting the awry material and smoothing it back into place, catching a glimpse of the tantalizing nipple in the process. Instead, he whispered. “This is nice.”
Her hands pulled him in a little tighter. She turned her head back toward him, bring her cheek to his jaw and her lips near his chin.
“Nice? This is way more than nice. These are nice, but this is wonderful.”
As she said it, she brought her hands up to her own breasts. His hands, their fingers still loosely entwined, came with them. He didn’t spend much of his limited rational thought on exactly how he ended up with his hands crossed at the wrist, each cupping a sweet firm little handful of mom’s breasts, her hands now squeezing his.
One nipple was a tiny hard presence under his palm, pushing through the halter top. The other one he could feel even more clearly, as his hand had pushed the displaced fabric further aside, and her hand now held his on that bare palmful.
He marveled in what they were doing, and how her flesh resisted his fingers’ slight pressures of tentative exploration. Her erect nipple found a space between the bases of two fingers. He squeezed them together, trying to pinch it.
He grasped the perfect small cup more definitely. “This is wonderful. Not just nice.”
Her fingers stroked his, encouraging his touch. Neither was sure who was leading as their other pair of hands, the ones holding the still covered breast, slid together down her belly to press her lower body back against his.
They swayed together. The only other motion was his fingers, palm, and thumb slowly and leisurely massaging her small breast, never outright focusing on that perfect brown nipple he could see slide along his fingers and bend over slightly as it disappeared under his palm. Nonetheless, teasing them both continually.
Valentine thought of Candy. Blond silky straight hair, tall and lean, if not defined and toned like Mom. In heels she would be this tall against him. His hand pulled his mom against him at the thought of Candy in high heels, those long perfect legs stretched out and flexed, Val now painfully aware of what ended the delicious gap between the very top of those thighs.
Melanie began to rock her hips more with the music when she felt him pull her in to him, back onto the huge cylinder she could feel spreading her cheeks apart. With each sideways sway now, she let it leave the valley and slide across one round globe before letting it drop back into the snug channel and then massaging into the opposite cheek.
She was aware that dancing like this caused her skirt to gradually slide up over her thighs. She was also aware that she wore absolutely nothing under the dress. On the way to the party, a benefit blind auction followed by a banquet, she had confronted Marguerite about the cum on her chin. Her friend had confessed to having ‘hooked up’ with her son four times in the past six months, beginning with seducing him in the spa.
For some reason Melanie had withheld revealing that she has seen them cock-in-throat. Still, that memory coupled with ‘Aunt’ Mar raving about what her young ‘nephew’s’ cock did to her had Mel wet and bothered by the time they arrived at the Country Club. Rather than wear the sopping things she’d slipped off her underwear, leaving her waxed bare slit to breath under the dress.
The hem of her dress was close to exposing that decision when her son spoke.
“Mom?”
“MmHmm?”
“What are we doing?” A beautiful woman was grinding on him, driving him to want more. Once past the surprise, the forbidden nature of the woman was strangely attractive. As Valentine began to sober from the initial onslaught of alcohol and drunken dancing, he started to doubt. To feel guilty.
“Mom. I think we should stop.”
She kept moving. Her voice was distant, underwater or in a dream. “Yeah, we should.”
“No, Mom, really. Is this right?”
She groaned as she pushed back on his bulge. “It feels right.”
He blurted out what was bothering him before he had time to consider the implications.
“I think there’s someone else.”
She turned to face him, looking chagrinned but puzzled. Her cheeks were bright red as she looked at him, the single wavy grey line still faintly streaking one cheek. “Aunt Mar?”
He shook his head. “No.”
He didn’t want to explain further and reveal what had happened with his stepsister today.
Her face adopted the stern mother look, incongruous with one bare nipple still exposed, newly freed from her son’s teasing fingers.
“Were you cheating on the poor girl with Mar today?”
“What? No! I didn’t know then.” He stopped himself there.
“You didn’t know then? Today? Who have you seen since…oh, no. Tell me it’s not Candace.”
——
From the small front window of her room, in the west wing of the house, Candy saw the taxi exited by the two well-dressed, laughing women. She watched the two – one in gold, the other in an aqua blue shimmer that she remembered Mom looking striking in before – walk to the front door, arms around each other’s waist. Candy studied the curvy woman in gold more closely than she ever had, trying to picture Aunt Mar doing those things with her Valentine, at the same time her stomach clenched with jealousy at the thought of another touching him.
Her deductive mind switched into gear. If they arrived in a taxi, they’d been drinking. If Aunt Mar was here and had been drinking, she’d stay the night. If she stayed the night, she’d want more of Val.
Valentine had not said no to Candy’s request to watch and her desire for knowledge was overriding the jealous pangs. The tension once again rising in the insatiable spring winding in her core made the pangs of green envy pale.
Wearing just a nightshirt, actually a large t-shirt her stepbrother had left when he packed for school, she padded barefoot to her study. Her ‘room’ was comprised of the bedroom proper, with only the small barred window to the front, and the adjoining study, which had been her playroom as a child. The larger window there looked over a small garden area complete with a sundial, separated from the pool and spa by a high hedge.
The view inspired her and she acted. Candy knew she couldn’t hover by Val’s door, waiting for a possible sighting. He had been waking up when she left, and she assumed he would spend some time with the ladies.
Aunt Marguerite’s home away from home was the spa. More so when she was drinking. Now that she thought of it, Candy could recall her flashing big dark eyes at Val his last visit asking if he’d like to join her and massage her shoulders. It could happen that way tonight. Mom was oblivious and would probably head to bed early.
Candy slipped out the small door to the garden, scampered across the grass. It had been years since she’d been in the pool house. Mom and Mar used it, and guests sometimes slept there. For Candy, it had always been an adult place, and it was so much easier to just change in her own suite.
The spa was built with lattice, now grown thickly with large-leaved greenery, around it for privacy from the house and the pool. The pool house wall provided privacy for the fourth side. The only way to see what went on in the spa from outside it was if someone happened to be in the pool-house and held open the curtain of the small window high above the small futon couch. To do so, they’d have to stand on the futon. The only other window in the small structure was set beside the door, looking toward the pool.
If anything happened in the spa tonight, or the pool, Candy wanted to see. She looked around inside the small structure. It wasn’t bright, but the illumination from the solar lights around the pool was enough to see by.
The futon, which she remembered folded up as a couch unless guests were here, was spread out as a bed. It had been arranged with plenty of pillows and a plush, almost furry blanket. It made an inviting nest. A small fridge and a basic bar set up had not been here when she was a kid, she was sure.
Candy climbed onto the thick blanket. It was soft in her fingers, and along her legs. She was sure she’d hear anything outside. The fur covering felt so sensuous, so primal, she let her legs and arms move as they pleased, rubbing through it, swimming in it, reveling in the sensations all a over her skin. Valentine’s t-shirt rode up on her legs as she felt the plush hairs tickling between her legs and cheeks.
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