Chez Fiona Ch. 04

Asian

I made an angelhair pasta dish for dinner, giving everyone very generous portions of fresh parmesan cheese, which I was usually somewhat frugal about, because it was so expensive. And I had made a roasted bell pepper and eggplant sauce, which is quite spicy and a favorite of Ethan’s.

The atmosphere at dinner was quite interesting: Harold was boisterous and happy, asking about everyone’s lives, suddenly a more involved and attentive father than he had been of late. He prodded the boys about their girlfriends, and asked Nancy if there were any special guys she was bringing to her birthday party tomorrow. I knew he was thinking about screwing her, and he looked at me a bit apologetically. I reached beneath the table and gave him a lingering pat on the thigh, letting my hand slide suggestively upwards. I decided to do some flirting of my own.

“Ethan, did you sleep alright last night?” I thought I heard some noises from your room.

He didn’t look up at me, he just shrugged. “I dunno, I had some weird dreams.”

“Oh really?” I asked with my sexy-innocent voice. I seemed to be using that voice a lot lately. “What sort of dreams?”

“I was… this mathematician, and everything was in black-and-white…”

I slipped my foot across and stroked his leg gently. His eyes bulged, still not looking at me, trying to continue describing this dream.

“And there was some equation I was trying to figure out, and I had this big old-fashioned computer, and when my computer figured out the equation, it became self-aware and crashed.”

“Fascinating,” I said, still stroking his leg. Of course, he had no such dream; it was from a movie called Pi, which he assumed nobody else at the table would have seen. Well, he couldn’t very well have said that the dream was about his mother sucking his cock and drinking his cum.

After dinner, Nancy declared that she was going over to Tanya’s place.

“I forgot some papers at the office tonight, so I’m going to head back in to work.” Harold gave me a knowing look, then turned to Peter and Ethan. “You boys be sure and help your mother clean up in the kitchen, eh?” I couldn’t believe it: Harold was really getting into this idea that I was fucking the boys. “You need a ride to Tanya’s?” he asked Nancy. The two of them left, and I began clearing the table. Peter and Ethan began helping, loading the dishwasher, but they were eyeing each other suspiciously–as though each wanted the other to leave, so that he was alone with me.

“Ethan, can you dry? Peter, you can put things away.” I rolled up my sleeves and began filling the sink with water, adding huge amounts of soap, working up a nice lather of bubbles, and began washing the grease from the dishes. As Ethan dried, he stayed close against me, letting his arm brush against my own. I could tell that for him, even something so subtle was a daring gesture. Peter was a little more forthright, letting his hand graze my ass–occasionally even giving it a little squeeze–every time he walked past me. I pushed back gently into his hand. Peter was ready to go–he’d have me right here and now if I let him. But Ethan needed a little more loosening up.

I reached a hand down into the water, then gently flicked it at him. He seemed not to notice, so I did it again, but with more water this time.

“Hey!” he objected in mock anger, and I flicked him a third time. He took a step away from me, then took his towel, wet from drying the dishes, and snapped it at me. The towel caught me sharply on the hip, and I yelped, then splashed more water.

“You two, you’re making a mess. I just washed that counter!” Peter said from across the kitchen. I turned to him and dipped my hand into the sink one more time, expertly sending water all the way across the kitchen, covering his shirt in soap and water.

“Oh, that’s it, I’m gonna get you.” He opened the fridge, found the pitcher of water, and poured out a glass, and made gestures as though he was going to throw it at me. I wasn’t sure he was, but I ducked down, anyway. But as I did so, Ethan grabbed my arm tightly, pulling me back up, and a blast of icy cold water hit me full in the chest and face. I screamed out, dumped a bowl full of sink water on Ethan, and twisted out of his grasp.

He ran to the far side of the counter, to where Peter was. Peter threatened to hit me with another dose of ice-water, so I ducked down below the counter. Looking down, I realized my t-shirt was soaked, and either from arousal or from the cold water–likely a combination of both–by nipples looked as though they were going to burst through both by bra and my white t-shirt. I ducked my head into the cupboard. There had to be something… and then I found a bottle of champagne. Perfect. I could hear Peter and Ethan whispering to each other, no doubt planning some way to assault me with more water. I began shaking the bottle of champagne. I debated sticking my head up to see where they were–they had fallen suddenly silent. But they might be waiting for me to Kars Escort stick my head up… I loosened the wire restraint, and gently twisted at the cork. I could feel the tension behind it, feel how it was about to burst out. I’d have to be careful not to shoot one of the boys in the face with it!

I decided to crawl around the side of the counter, trying to catch them off-guard. Then suddenly, a hand caught my foot from behind.

“Got her!” I heard Ethan yell, and a half second later, Peter came around the corner the other way, a jug of orange juice in his hand. I pressed the cork with my thumb and it shot out, followed by a thick spray of champagne foam. I stuck my thumb over the end, increasing the tension and shooting Peter’s face full of it.

“Fuck!” Peter yelled out. With one hand, he tried to block the stream of champagne. With the other hand, he splashed out the carton of orange juice, soaking me in wave after wave. I turned the champagne bottle to Ethan, who had now gripped both my ankles, and shot his face full of it. He swore, but didn’t let go; he held to my ankles tightly, one in each hand, about shoulder-width apart—a grip that would allow him an easy view up my wet legs. In a show of false modesty I pressed my thighs together. Had I worn panties today? In my aroused, frantic state, I couldn’t remember. I hoped I hadn’t.

Peter grabbed my arms, twisting the champagne bottle out of my hand, and holding my arms out above my head. I lay on my stomach in a pool of orange juice and champagne.

“You’ve made a mimosa out of me!” I declared.

“A what?” asked Ethan.

“A mimosa. It’s a cocktail,” Peter said.

I nodded. “Orange juice and champagne.” I could lick it up off the floor by sticking out my tongue. I didn’t though, I just breathed in deeply smelling the wincing citrus.

They held me there, and we fell into a silent stalemate, neither of them sure what to do next and me restrained from movement. Of course, we all wanted the same thing, more or less.

“Okay, let go.”

They did as I told them, and I pulled my legs in, rising up to my hands and my knees. Peter’s face was inches from my own.

“Kiss me. Kiss mommy.”

I saw him look past me to Ethan, unsure of how to act in front of his brother. Then he leaned into me with a soft, gentle kiss.

“Mmmm, nice,” I moaned.

He kissed me again, and I put an arm around his neck, pulling him in against me.

“Now stand up.”

His crotch was a little above my face, and I could see his nice shaft through his jeans. Of course he was hard. I would have been shocked if he wasn’t.

“You know what mommy wants. Take it out for her.”

Again, he looked at his brother. Likely they hadn’t seen each other naked in years. But he undid his jeans, and gently slipped them down to his knees.

“These too,” I said, looking at his shorts. He modestly pulled them down. So modest. What happened to the boys that we assaulting me with orange juice? I looked over my shoulder.

“What are you doing?” I asked Ethan.

“Nothing.”

“Oh no your not. Your not playing the voyeur this time. Have you eaten pussy before?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Good. Get to it,” I said, wiggling my ass at him. He touched my thigh, and slowly began sliding it upwards. “That’s it, baby,” I cooed. Ethan now involved, I turned my head back to Peter, and found my face pressed solidly against his cock. “Oh, Peter!” I nuzzled it, letting it slip along my cheek, pressing my nose as far as I could between his cock and his thigh and then breathing deeply. Meanwhile, Ethan had moved his fingers up and was touching my pussy. Not just an exploratory touch, but firm, like he knew what he was doing.

“Can you feel that, Ethan? Can you feel how wet Mommy is for you?”

“Uh huh.”

“Mommy’s so wet for both of you.”

I took one of Peters balls in my mouth slowly and gently, lifting it with my tongue and then letting it fall back into my mouth. All I could taste was the citrus of the orange juice—it was such an overwhelming flavour. I worked my way slowly up the underside of Peter’s shaft, flicking my tongue across with quick horizontal strokes. He moaned, and pressed himself against me. I rewarded him by cupping my mouth over the tip of his cock and sucking it gently, and then I slowly began pushing down.

“Oh mom!”

“Mommy. Call me mommy,” I said, coming up for air.

“Oh yes mommy, take me all the way down.”

I put my mouth on automatic, just sliding slowly up and down Peter’s shaft. It was so long since I had two guys at the same time—not since before these two guys were born—that I had forgotten the challenge of sexual multitasking.

I worked my hips back against Ethan’s hand. “That’s it, right inside.”

“It feels so good inside you. So hot!”

“Taste my heat, baby. Use your mouth,” I said, giving my mouth a break as I stroked Peter with one of my hands.

I had barely spoken when Ethan pressed the full Kars Escort Bayan of his face against me, his mouth like a vacuum over my pussy. “Oh god, honey.” I moaned again, as Peter took my head in my hand and guided my mouth back onto his cock. I let him dictate the speed, gently pulling against my hair. I loved the feeling of his hands in my hair, working into my scalp as he urged me to take him deeper.

Ethan’s tongue found it’s way to my clit. I bucked my hips a little, feeling Ethan pressing his mouth against my clit, his nose slipping between the lips of my quim.

I wanted to tell him how good it felt, but I was to far down Peter’s shaft to make more that a guttural grunt. So I grunted. Ethan recognized it as a sound of approval and pushed harder.

I needed more. I took Peter’s cock out of my mouth. “Oh god. Okay, Peter, you fuck mommy. Ethan, you come up here and give mommy your cock to suck on.” I rolled onto my back, my legs spread wide.

Peter got between my legs, while Ethan knelt above me. I could just reach his balls, and I gave them a little lick with my tongue.

“That’s so good, mommy, licking me right there.”

“I can feel how heavy you are with cum, son.”

“Oh yes, mommy!”

Peter was fucking me, but not with his cock. He was sliding the wet, foaming neck of the champagne bottle into my pussy. I moaned, and bucked my hips a lot.

“You like that?” Peter asked.

I moaned, and wrapped my lips around Ethan’s balls. “Wow, that’s so hot,” Ethan said, referring both my lips on his balls and the site of a champagne bottle in my quim.

“You should see her with a cucumber!” Peter said.

“Really?”

“She a total slut for food, aren’t you, mom.”

“Oh baby, you’re mother is a dirty slut for anything long and hard that you care to put in her,” I said, wrapping a hand around Ethan’s cock as I continued to suck at his balls. “Come on, Peter, use your cock.” I got onto my hands and knees, taking Ethan’s cock in my mouth. After a couple quick sucks, I took it out and looked back over my shoulder at Peter. “I want some incestuous cock in both ends of me.”

I was really getting off on talking dirty, trying to make this already dirty sex even dirtier; trying to make it the ultimate in filth. I relaxed my hips as Peter put his cock against me and leaned forward, slowly penetrating me all the way. My quim was already so wet and open, it offered no resistance; it took only a few seconds before Peter was sliding all the way in and out on every stroke, giving me a good, hard fuck. I relaxed my throat, struggling to take Ethan’s cock. He was nice and lean, easier to handle than his father or his big brother. I relaxed my body, just enjoying the feeling of being so completely fucked.

It had been so long since I had two guys at once. Not since my college years. It’s an amazing thing, being surrounded by all that masculinity, all that dick. Should I take Ethan up my ass while Peter was in my quim? Or take both them in my mouth or pussy at the same time? So many possibilities. What was too far? Was anything too far, after all I had done? It all felt so fucking good.

I suddenly became aware that Peter was about to cum. “No, not yet!” I pushed my hips down, popping his cock out. “You know how much I need to taste your cum.” I looked back at Peter, who was kneeling there, his cock throbbing visibly. He had his eyes closed, and I knew how hard he was trying not to cum, to think unsexy thoughts until the encroaching orgasm subsided. I continued gently sucking Ethan for a moment, and then stood, stretching out my sore muscles.

“Ethan, do you want a turn in mommy’s cunt?”

“Oh yeah, mommy.”

“How to you want to ravish your mommy?”

“Up on the counter,” he said.

I did like he asked, and sitting up on the counter so that my pussy was just off the edge of the counter.

“Your mommy wants you, baby.”

He came toward me, and I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him in so that his cock was nestled in against the folds of my pussy. I gave him a deep passionate kiss, as he reached down and fondled me.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he moaned.

“Oh believe it baby,” I said, taking his cock in my hand, and gently slipped the tip of it into me. I arched my back, squeezing his ass with my heels and driving him deep into me.

“Fuck her hard!” Peter called out, watching from behind and gently stroking himself.

Ethan was spurred on by his brother, and wrapped his arms around me, bucking his hips. I leaned back, and he rubbed against my g-spot. The feeling was too intense, and I surged forward into his arms, lifting up off the counter. Ethan stepped backward with me still in his arms, carrying me. For a second I wasn’t sure if Ethan could hold me, but he steadied his legs, and then began fucking me even harder.

I moaned, clutching at my young son’s body. I kissed him again, feeling his tongue deep in my mouth. Such a delicious boy! I was ready Escort Kars for the next extreme. I looked over at Peter. “Ready to put that in my ass?”

He nodded eagerly, and I reached back to the kitchen counter, grabbing a bog bottle of olive oil. As Peter came up behind me, I splashed him with the oil, making his bronze torso glisten. Then I held the bottle over my own head, soaking myself in oil.

“Hold me still,” I instructed Ethan, gripping his ass with my ankles. “Just for a moment.”

Peter’s fingertip penetrated my asshole, causing so many nerves to tingle. I relaxed my asshole, and then squeezed tight around his finger. It felt so good, squeezing his finger with my ass.

He began fucking me quickly with his finger. I held tightly onto Ethan and moaned. This was so nasty, so good. I couldn’t wait. Peter could tell I was ready, too.

His cock hurt a little as he slid it into me. But I moaned, and tried to take it like a smutty porn star. I wished that someone was filming this, so that I could document exactly how lewd and libidinous I had become. Maybe next time I’d set up a camera.

In the meantime, Peter’s cock was easing into my ass, and I could feel myself loosening up, allowing him deeper. I gripped Ethan’s shoulders, and lifted myself up, and then slowly slid down, sliding Peter into my ass and Ethan deep into my quim. It all felt so good. I lifted up and then slid down again, and both boys moaned loudly. They both gripped my hips, lifting me and then sliding me back down on their cocks. I was so slick with the olive oil, the boys had to squeeze me so tight to avoid losing their grip. I could taste the oil on my lips. I liked them, then kissed Ethan.

“Oh god, mom.”

“I’m such a lucky mommy to have such studs for my sons. I love this,” I moaned. “God, I love being a dirty, filthy, incestuous mommy!”

It wasn’t just the incest that I loved. It was the kitchen, too. Being fucked in my kitchen. Being covered in olive oil. I had this tremendous desire to eat something. I reached down with one hand and felt around on the countertop: fruit bowl. I took a plum, raised it to my lips, savoured the texture of the skin, so much like the purple, swollen head of a cock. Then I bit into it, tasting the sweet, juicy interior. I kissed Ethan, using my tongue to push the piece of plum into his mouth. I took another bite, then turned my head, kissing Peter and pushing plum into his mouth. As I kissed Peter, Ethan did something that shocked me a bit: he spit the little piece of plum out. I heard him spit, and felt it land on my cheek. I continued kissing Peter while the juice of the plum ran down my neck, into my cleavage. I broke off my kiss with Peter, long enough to say to Ethan, “You fucker. Bring your mouth over here to mommy’s.”

I urged him closer, and bit down a bit on Peter’s lip, not letting him pull back. Then Ethan’s mouth was on mine, too. Which meant that his lips were on Peter’s, too. I brought the rest of the plum up between us, into our mouths. I moaned loudly; my god, both my sons, fucking me at the same time, both of them kissing me at the same time. Both of their tongues in my mouth. They weren’t fucking me really hard—the duality of the position made it a little awkward. But they were both inside me, I was suspended between them, touching nothing in my bodies. I felt my consciousness fleeting, even as my orgasm hit. It was an orgasm like none I’ve had before, an orgasm that replaced all my senses—my sight turned red, my hearing to white noise, my nerves to numbness, my scent and taste both to sour emptiness. All I could be aware of was the nerves within my own body.

The sound of my own voice screaming brought me back. I could feel that I was on the floor. There was something brushing against my face. Cock.

“That’s it, cum on mommy’s face. Cum all over mommy’s face.”

It took only a second after I said it before I felt it hitting me. I licked my lips, and my sense of taste returning as I licked that salty cream. Delicious. It was Peter’s. Ethan’s ejaculate hit me on the other side of the face. I licked the other side of my mouth, and tasted him. I didn’t swallow. I wanted to. I wanted to simply devour it all. But I controlled myself. I opened my eyes, wiping the cum from them, and then I smiled up at my sons, extending my arms to them. They helped me to my feet.

“Oh god, mom…” Peter said.

“You liked that, didn’t you? Being way up my tight ass. And you, Ethan,” I touched my hand to his cheek, “you were rubbing against my g-spot in such a good way.”

“Do you want a washcloth?”

“No,” I said, going to the freezer and getting the dish of their father’s cum. I used my fingers to wipe my face off, and then got a spatula to make sure every bit of that delicious stuff was in the bowl.

“What’s that, mom?”

“Nothing…” just something I’m making.

“We should get dressed before dad gets home!” Ethan said, suddenly. I shrugged.

“Your father knows. He’s okay with it.”

“Really?”

“Maybe sometime I’ll take all three of you at once,” I stepped toward them, and realized there was a big pool of champagne, orange juice, and olive oil.

“So, I think it would be safe to say that you boys owe me a favour or two, right?”

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