Go West, Young Man! Pt. 04

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We started taking even crazier chances in our debauched sex life. At the dinner table with his mom in the next room carving meat, (seriously with a cleaver in her hand,) he would pull out his thick, swollen cock and stick it right in my face. And I would be daring and submissive enough, with shaky hands and eyes preposterously wide, to allow him to thrust it in and out of my desperate lips until we heard the serving dishes in the kitchen rattle.

He remarked once during this obscene maneuver, that he wanted me to suck him to orgasm so that he could cum on her salad and blend it in with the bleu cheese. He said that he had seen it in a porno flick, and that she would soon develop an unquenchable taste for his cum and want more of it. Then she would become addicted to the flavor. I wanted to laugh at his impudence, but something about his erotic methods captured my filthy imagination. I began to wonder if his Rasputin-like influence over me worked in the same way.

On most evenings, at bedtime Tracy soaked in a warm, relaxing bath. She pampered herself in this manner for a half-hour as her music played on the stereo. She was unwittingly signaling to us that she was otherwise occupied, and her son took advantage of this nightly distraction to bend her sister over the mattress or a convenient armchair, and fuck me hard and deep, usually culminating with me swallowing a load of his creamy sauce. My sister would be literally singing in he bath, providing the background melodies, while her lusty son was grabbing my tits and plunging his greasy cock deep into my ass.

The frenetic tide of emotions that had been roiling my mind for months was beginning to bubble to the surface. Along with the incessant nagging taboo of incestuous sex with my nephew, was the roles the we acted in our little tryst. In some way it might have been understandable, though certainly not palatable given the circumstance, for two people of similar age, living and working so close, to begin to feel romantic longings. Unfortunately, that was not us.

I always tried to put a sunny face on this “relationship” so that my guilt-ravished conscience would be mollified, or that atleast I would not get strung-out on Valium. We were not lovers. We never even kissed, despite the fact that our lips caressed every other part of one another’s anatomy. We occasionally went out for a drink, but not on a date. He held my hand… behind my back or tied to the bedpost, as he fucked my tits and mouth. We shopped together for clothes, but online at kinky porn sites that catered to the leather-clad, S&M trade.

My older sister lived with me, infact her room was just down the hall. And her grown son who also lived with us, fucked me whenever the urge struck him. It was getting to a point where it was literally right under her nose. I never quite understood if it was a desire-driven passion or an unconscious need to be discovered.

You can put lipstick on a pig but it doesn’t make it smell any better. We were selfish, crude and rude. And now, I was not only lying to myself but to my sister also. We acted as any family would when it was thrown together under one roof, but it was just an act. Jeff knew that he could fuck me at almost every waking moment. And when I wasn’t on my knees or bent over the couch, I was fantasizing about it. The temptations were only getting more extreme. His control over me and his demands of me, were clearly signaling his dominance. I was powerless to resist and practically a coconspirator to my own degradation.

A new and corrosive form of conditioning was being taught by my sexual Svengali. Jeff’s latest plot was to cultivate in me the overriding urge to form a bisexual triangle of debauchery. The sensual focal point of this mixed threesome would be my sister, (his mother) Tracy. In his many fanciful questions regarding my past love-life or current filthy fantasies, Jeff had extracted from me that I had experimented with women and that I still find the female form to be a creation of exquisite beauty.

Just by his constant inquiries, I began to look at Tracy in a lecherous, targeted way. These feelings of lust and sexual pleasure had never entered my rational thoughts. But I began to admire my sister’s bodacious figure and sneak lustful peeks at her every sensual movement. I was entranced by the slightest jiggle of her firm chest or the seductive bounce of her behind when she strutted down the hall in four-inch heels. He had me daydreaming about the feel of her breasts in my hands or the sweet taste of her pussy on my tongue.

In my defense, his erotic interrogations of my deepest desires usually occurred while his mammoth cock was expanding the tight recesses of my hungry vagina and when I was on the brink of a thunderous climax. Often when we were in the doggy position, with him pumping his rigid tool into my hot pleasure-cavern he would gradually press the back of my head, lowering my face into the gap between the pillows. He started to “suggest” that I use my tongue to explore the warm, Betturkey soft folds of the cushions and to imagine how a trimmed, juicy pussy might feel on my cheeks and taste on my lips.

It didn’t take much coercing or a leap of my fertile imagination at these times, to picture the scenario he was plying. I have tickled my nose enough on his wiry pubic hairs to know their coarse, dank feel on my skin. And my taste buds have sampled the slightly acidic flavor of my own essence, when I licked his stiff shaft of it’s salty cream, after he had fucked me to a delightful orgasm. As he plowed into me and my climax mounted to a boiling point, it was not a giant step to pretend that the soft, plump pillows were actually the warm, pliant thighs of an undulating, tingling woman.

His cock would continue to pump in and out of my sopping, squirming cunt and he would describe to me in vivid, erotic detail, how I would be exciting this other anonymous, submissive female at the same time. I was told to squeeze the pillows as if they were breasts and to share with him the fanciful, sensuous things that my body and mind would be experiencing. I was beginning to “see” the outline of these imaginary boobs and I twisted and suckled the pert nipples. My tongue wet a sloppy path around the linens, as it flicked at the ghostly edges of labia and mons that appeared in my lurid mind.

He was careful at first to not mention his mother’s name, but at many points during the day, he would ask me if I knew the name or fragrance of her perfume, or the color of her lipstick or even if I had ever seen her naked while dressing for the beach or undressing for a shower. Tracy’s image often lingered in my mind and her scent remained in my nostrils after she left the room. In bed I would feel her legs wrapped around me or in the shower I could imagine her wet, sudsy body sliding against me as my crotch twitched and heated to a molten warmth.

Soon, as Jeff plowed a furrow in my welcoming cunt, the imaginary third person in bed with us was becoming a familiar partner. The sexy, mysterious woman that he taught me to kiss, grope and rub my pussy against had the soft pink lips, the fresh rosemary scent and large, tantalizing bust of my sister. It didn’t take long before I was telling “Tracy” that I wanted to lick her sweet pussy. That was about the extent of Jeff’s attempts at subtlety or seduction. But his lewd efforts succeeded in placing her image into my fantasies.

He also managed somehow to convince me to forego wearing a bra in the house. This practice was not unusual when it was just the two of us, but I bowed to convention after Tracy moved in. I am not as big as Tracy, but my D-cups are plainly obvious when bouncing unencumbered in a casual tee and Jeff “persuaded” me again that he wanted my boobs available to his groping at all times. At first Tracy didn’t seem to notice or to care, and if she did she was too polite to say. Afterall it was my house and in California this was not a bold look. But strangely, I also detected on occasion her misty brown eyes following the bounce of my 34s when she thought I wasn’t looking.

Now Tracy is built like a goddess. And though she is one size, and one cup larger than me, the swaying and jiggling of my chest is an attention-grabber. Eventually she couldn’t help but take note. Especially when we relaxed on the deck and a cool ocean breeze raised goose-bumps on us. In LA, half of the women have Silicone breasts and wear push-ups specifically to show them off. And on the beach or on Rodeo Drive, women from 13-80 go braless. There are boobs-a-plenty for any post-pubescent guy or bi-hopeful girl to get a healthy gander at.

One day she pointedly asked me if I wear a bra at work. I was stunned and I assured her that in my job I was strictly professional. (I didn’t feel the need to mention to her that her son had fucked me a few times, right in my private office.) But at home, I said that I believed I should feel comfortable. This reasoning had the effect of causing Tracy to consider going “casual.” She explained that due to her double-Ds, wearing a bra all day cut into her sore shoulders, and it would be a relief to not need to wear one at home. Her concern was, what Jeff would think.

I took a long sip of my coffee and pretended that I was pondering this perplexing situation. Finally I mentioned that her son was always a perfect gentleman around me, and though he obviously was now a grown man, he would certainly have noticed just how sexy his mother is but like with me, he would routinely show the proper respect. She seemed very happy with this answer and I think, even secretly proud and delighted that we had both taken notice of her lovely body.

In the next few days, I noticed that she would sunbathe on the deck in her new slinky bikinis, or wore shorts and a halter-top around the house, leaving no doubt that she was braless. I found myself sneaking peeks at her curvy form and watching out of the corners of my eye as she moved, Betturkey Giriş her bountiful breasts and butt made for an enticing look. At times her barefooted shuffle across the wooden deck caused her every movable part to shimmy in a most erotic motion. More than once, she caught me gaping with my mouth wide open. Tracy was a stick of dynamite. And the sensuous appeal was not lost on Jeff. Though, I determined that he had not quite figured-out how to capture her sexuality for his enjoyment, and being that it was his mother, he had to move carefully. I was under his thumb I know, but one wrong move now could bring the hammer down on his entire well-being. Tracy, for her part, enjoyed this new freedom and like any woman, she was not oblivious to the two new sets of eyes ogling her every gesture. How she felt about it internally was anyone’s guess, but there was certainly more of her voluptuous body on display.

Plus, her body was like a fresh canvas to adorn and ornament in it’s best light. She was in her forties now, a divorcee with a grown son and living with her younger sister. I never knew her to jog or play sports, but she apparently did something that kept her well-endowed figure in a condition that any twenty year-old would be jealous of. And working at the studio, she saw scantily clad women nearly half her age getting propositions and promotions that were owed entirely to their willingness to bare their bodies. For the previous two years she was subsumed in her monetary problems. Makeup, new clothes, and a sex-life were luxuries that she could not afford to indulge. But living and working so close to Hollywood, made her take inventory of her assets. And having a new job and no rent, allowed her some financial freedom, and I suppose that after forty years she just considered herself entitled to have a little fun.

She confided in me that she would like to expand her horizons a bit. Maybe a fresh look and a new attitude to kick-start her new beginnings. Tracy has dark hair and dark eyes, with long legs and that prodigious bust. And flawless white skin. Even at her age, she could be a model, lingerie certainly. Just a few days of frolicking in the sun and on the beach had toned her body and brought a healthy, appealing glow to her curvy physique and sunny outlook.

She would wander into my room half-dressed and ask my opinion on a new blouse, and how it might look without a bra. Or to show me some panties or swimwear, and if I thought them too revealing or if anything made her seem slutty. Seeing women of any age at a Southern California beach, gave you a whole new appreciation of sun-bathing. No look or absence of decorum was off-limits. Even in casual dress on the streets and often, especially where we worked, “revealing attire” took on a whole new meaning.

She attempted to squeeze into a few of my sexy clothes, both dresses and bikinis, but she was a bit too curvy. Many women would have accepted that they “spilled out” of some suggestive outfits, but Tracy had more class than that. She did notice though that a lot of my erotic outfits that she found sexiest, bore the same label. When she asked where I shopped, I hesitantly directed her to an online shop that I knew catered to the sex industry. A lot of platform heels, skirts with slits up to the waist, sheer tops, fishnets and all of the accessories you might imagine. This was How Jeff liked me to look in private.

When she got past the initial shock of some of the more exotic items; and we laughed at our own embarrassment, we began to take a second look at the fashions designed to give men (like her son) a hard-on, she ordered an eclectic assortment of things. In the next few weeks, I spied quite a few packages coming in the mail.

Like all sisters, I eventually persuaded her to show me what she bought. Her reluctance was soon abated, and she warmed to exhibiting some of the racier styles. Her cheeks reddened and my eyes widened when she showed-off some leather and sheer ensembles. She was so excited to try on things, that for most of the time, she was reduced to thin cotton undies or satiny G-strings. I enjoyed the erotic audition but my mind was captivated by her naked torso. There was also a couple of playthings that she was too shy to demonstrate, but neither of us needed much of an explanation. She did say that she would still have trouble wearing this clothing around her son.

I assured her that he had seen the same women that she had; at work, on the beach, and around the city, and that he was not the young boy that had lived with her two years ago. It would probably be simpler I explained, if she just began talking to him like an adult, instead of her son, then she could wear the new fashions that she had spent so much money on. She said that she would consider it. Secretly, I wanted to see more of Tracy in these outfits and I was already enjoying her new attitude. When I told Jeff about our little sister-to-sister talk, we had great sex and the “imaginary Tracy” began to appear in our “threesomes” more often. It’s a funny thing, but I began to think more about the sexy imaginary cunt in my face, than the actual mammoth cock bulldozing into my pussy.

I was now initiating more of the dream sequences of eating pussy or sharing his cock with my sister, while Jeff took his liberties with my slutty body. I could sense her heavenly build underneath of me as he plunged that tremendous tool into both my steamy snatch and my tight little ass. With every thrust of his steely rod, my face was pushed deeper into the pillows. I flattened my tongue against the cool cotton and pictured the long, slow trail of saliva that would lead to her pert nub. With each velvety touch on her delicate clit, her body would quiver under me until I tasted the gush of fluid that would wash down my chin. He pounded my wanton cunt and I moaned in ecstasy, filling the sandwich between my imaginary female partner and my oh-so-real Dom. I told Jeff how I could feel her big, bouncing breasts in my hands as my tongue circled each wrinkled areola and bit at the small, perky nipples. I licked a slippery path down her soft belly to the triangle of black, matted curls guarding the entrance to her silky cunt. He loved the explicit language and the hot passion that I poured into my fantasies, and each detail rang in my uterus, causing a major eruption. His firm strokes continued the orgasms I experienced as I felt the massive cock bang away with fiery gusto. We grew to savor the fantasy and plotted a way to make it real. As if such a treacherous tryst could ever be realized.

When Tracy was actually in my presence, the temptation to admit to my guilty desires was overwhelming. With each glance or harmless touch, the perspiration started and my legs grew jittery. I had to fight the compulsion to grab her firm butt or pull down the flimsy material of her bikini top, and slobber wet kisses up and down her deep cleavage. One time she was showing me a black sheathe of a dress, that with her raven hair and moist, chocolatey eyes made her appear as a pornographic black-widow prepared to forget her unfortunate ex and seduce every man in the funeral home. She was topless and wearing only black mesh stockings and black satin pumps when she stepped into the tight velvety gown. She needed my assistance to tie the thin straps in back and complete the look of the skin-tight, plunging neckline body stocking. I was shivering with carnal lust as my trembling fingers swept across the backless outfit. My hands felt her warm flesh and her body seemed to ripple under my touch. I could no longer hold back. I grew distracted with my thoughts and my mind, and hands, wandered.

My hands ran down her ribcage and settled at her waist. She leaned back into me and I saw our reflection in the big mirror. Her slightly blushing face framed by a dark mane, sweat forming on her upper lip. My hands moved to harness her abundant chest in the clingy fabric and position them high and tight, showing the rounded tops of her fabulous melons and pushing them together in a tight package. My palms lingered under the weight of those glistening globes and I gently fondled them. Her head fell back on my chest and a throaty moan escaped her glossy pink lips. I marveled at the soft fullness of their heft, and the firmness of the double-D cups as I kneaded them like plump water balloons. For a minute, time stood still and I continued to grope her fleshy mounds. It felt so natural to cuddle her breasts like this. Her long shiny hair played under my neck and I felt her body shiver against me. My breath caught in my throat when we both glanced again into the mirror. I pulled my hands free like I had touched a hot stove. And she quickly took a stride away so that neither of us was still reflected in the glass. We recovered our senses at the same instant and our cheeks reddened.

Tracy turned to look at me with a sheepish expression. Her chest heaved and she was sweating heavily. She caught her halting gasps and averted her eyes when she spotted the obvious lusty look on my beat-red face. She mumbled guiltily, “Oh my gawd. This is like when we were teenagers. If you don’t stop now, I’m going to have to pull out that big dildo that I ordered. I think I’d better take this off and go back to my room.”

When I replied, “I may have to use my vibrator too,” she got a wild-eyed expression and left in a hurry. I was embarrassed and extremely confused. But also incredibly aroused. I did grab my toy and crawled into my lonely bed. I didn’t need the toy, my fingers worked just fine. My pussy was soaked and as soon as I lightly skimmed my palm over my exposed clit, I shook like we were having an earthquake. I wailed and quickly rubbed the swollen nub. My shaky digits plunged into the hot wetness of my molten cavern and I imagined that it was my sister’s tongue making me squirm in that way. In my head, I could picture Tracy’s shiny black locks spread on my thighs and belly. Her soft pink lips shone with the dew of my yearning cunt. I could feel her tight grip around my hips as her pointed tongue darted at my hidden treasure. I screamed for her to eat my pussy and to make me cum. My orgasm rocked my naked body and left me limp and exhausted. I fell into a deep, relaxing slumber.

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