Chapter 1: The Shocking Interruption 🔥
The summer heat clung to everything like a lover’s sweat, thick and unrelenting. Billy had just gotten back from college, his body buzzing with that restless energy of youth. He was sprawled on the living room floor, George’s thick cock sliding deep into his mouth, the salty tang of pre-cum coating his tongue. George’s hands gripped Billy’s hair, guiding the rhythm, low grunts escaping his lips. The room smelled of musk and faint cologne, the kind that mixed with arousal to create something primal.
“Fuck, Billy, you’re getting better at this,” George muttered, his voice husky, hips bucking slightly. Billy hummed in response, the vibration making George curse under his breath. He could feel the vein pulsing against his lips, taste the building heat. It was their secret ritual, hidden from the world, especially from Billy’s mom, who was supposed to be at work.
But the front door creaked open unexpectedly, and there she was—Eleanor, Billy’s mother, her face pale from whatever had sent her home early. She froze in the doorway, purse slipping from her fingers to thud on the hardwood. Her eyes widened, locking onto the scene: her son on his knees, face buried in another man’s crotch, George’s cock glistening as it pulled free just in time to erupt.
“Billy! How could you?” Eleanor’s scream shattered the air, sharp as glass. George’s load hit Billy’s cheek, warm and sticky, dripping down his chin. Billy swallowed what was in his mouth instinctively, the bitter-salt explosion filling his senses. George yanked up his pants, mumbling apologies, and bolted out the back door like a thief in the night.
Left alone, Billy wiped at his face, heart pounding. Eleanor’s gaze bored into him, her chest heaving under her blouse. She slumped onto the sofa, the fabric sighing under her weight. The silence stretched, broken only by the distant hum of the AC. Billy could smell the cum on his skin, feel its cooling trail. He slunk to the bathroom, splashing water, but the taste lingered, a guilty reminder.
“Come back here, young man!” Eleanor’s voice cracked like a whip. Billy returned, avoiding her eyes, sinking into the armchair. The room felt smaller, charged with unspoken accusations.
“How long have you been… doing that?” she asked, her voice trembling. Billy met her gaze then, a spark of defiance igniting.
“Not as long as you, Mom,” he shot back, the words tumbling out with a nervous laugh. Her gasp was audible, mouth agape like she’d been slapped. He knew her secret—nights when Dad was home, the wet slurps and moans filtering through thin walls. She’d always been enthusiastic, from what he’d overheard.
Eleanor’s face flushed crimson, hands twisting in her lap. “What makes you say that?” she whispered, but her eyes darted away, guilty.
“I’ve heard you with Dad. Sounds like you love it more than anything.” Billy’s cock twitched at the memory, the taboo thrill mixing with his own fresh shame.
She swallowed hard, the room thick with tension. “It’s not the same,” she murmured, but her voice lacked conviction. Billy stood, bold now, unzipping his jeans. His erection sprang free, hard from the interrupted blowjob and this twisted confrontation.
“Prove it,” he said, stepping closer. Eleanor’s eyes locked on his shaft, surprise flickering to something darker—curiosity? Lust? Her lips parted to protest, but Billy didn’t wait. He pushed forward, the head brushing her soft mouth. She gurgled as it slid in, warm and wet, her tongue instinctively curling around him.
Oh God, the sensation—velvet heat enveloping him, her breath hot against his skin. Billy groaned, hands in her hair, thrusting gently at first. She resisted for a heartbeat, then sucked, hard, drawing a moan from deep in his chest. The slurping sounds filled the room, echoing their shared vice. He could taste the faint mint on her breath, feel the slight scrape of her teeth.
“You should try George,” Billy panted, imagining it—her lips around his friend. The thought pushed him over, cum flooding her mouth in hot spurts. She swallowed, eyes watering, but didn’t pull away. As he softened, slipping out, a string of saliva connected them.
“Damn, Mom… you’re incredible.” Billy collapsed beside her, the air heavy with their mingled scents. She wiped her mouth, stunned, but a small smile tugged at her lips. The barrier was broken, and something wild had awakened.
That night, Billy lay in bed, hand stroking his cock to visions of her mouth, her eyes. No more just George—now it was family, tangled in forbidden heat. He came again, whispering her name into the dark.
Chapter 2: Whispers of Forbidden Hunger
The next morning dawned sticky, sunlight filtering through curtains like golden fingers. Billy woke with a raging hard-on, memories of yesterday’s sin replaying in vivid detail. Downstairs, Eleanor moved about the kitchen, the clink of dishes a normalcy that felt surreal. She wore a simple sundress, the fabric hugging her curves—curves Billy had never really noticed before. Now, they screamed invitation.
“Morning,” he said, voice rough. She turned, cheeks pinking, but her eyes held a spark.
“Pancakes?” she offered, flipping one in the pan. The sweet batter smell mixed with her floral perfume, stirring his appetite on multiple levels.
As they ate, silence hung, broken only by forks scraping plates. Finally, Billy couldn’t hold it. “About yesterday… you didn’t have to, but… fuck, it was hot.”
Eleanor set her fork down, meeting his gaze. “I don’t know what came over me. It’s wrong, Billy. But… your father… he loves it too. More than the rest, sometimes.” Her confession hung there, raw.
Billy leaned in. “I know. I’ve jerked off listening to you suck him. The sounds… wet, eager. Makes me hard just thinking.”
Her breath hitched, thighs pressing together under the table. “You’re my son. This can’t happen again.”
But her voice wavered, and Billy stood, rounding the table. He pulled her up, hands on her waist, feeling the heat through the dress. “Liar,” he whispered, kissing her neck. She shivered, a soft moan escaping.
His hands roamed, cupping her breasts, thumbs circling nipples that hardened instantly. The fabric was thin, her skin feverish. She pushed weakly at his chest, but her body arched into him.
“Billy… we shouldn’t.” Yet her hands fumbled with his belt, freeing his cock. It throbbed in her palm, pre-cum slicking her fingers. She dropped to her knees right there on the linoleum, cool against her skin, and took him in—deep, throat relaxing from practice.
Billy gripped the counter, watching her head bob, lips stretched around him. The kitchen filled with wet sucks and his gasps. He could see down her dress, cleavage bouncing. “God, Mom, your mouth… so fucking good.”
She hummed, vibrations shooting pleasure up his spine. Her free hand slipped under her dress, rubbing herself, the soft fabric rustling. The scent of her arousal bloomed, musky and sweet.
“Touch yourself,” he urged, and she did, moaning around his length. He thrust deeper, face-fucking her gently, tears pricking her eyes but lust glazing them. When he came, it was explosive, coating her tongue, spilling over. She savored it, licking her lips with a satisfied smack.
“Taste like your father,” she admitted, voice husky. Billy pulled her up, kissing her fiercely, tasting himself on her. His hand delved under her dress, fingers finding her soaked panties, pushing them aside to slide into her heat.
She was dripping, walls clenching around him. “Fuck me,” she begged, surprising them both. He bent her over the table, hiking up the dress, exposing her ass—round, inviting. He entered her in one thrust, the slick glide making them both groan.
Her pussy was tight, hot, gripping him like a vice. The table creaked under their rhythm, plates rattling. He slapped her ass lightly, the sting drawing a yelp that turned to a moan. “Harder,” she demanded, pushing back.
Billy obliged, pounding deep, feeling her juices coat his balls. The slap of skin on skin echoed, her cries filling the air—raw, animalistic. She came first, shuddering, flooding him, and he followed, pumping her full, the warmth spreading.
They slumped together, panting, the pancakes forgotten and cold. “This is just the beginning,” Billy murmured, nuzzling her neck. Eleanor nodded, lost in the afterglow, the taboo bond sealing tighter.
Later, as she cleaned up, Billy texted George: Come over tonight. Things got wild. You’ll see. The reply buzzed back: On my way. Can’t wait.
Chapter 3: George’s Initiation 💋
Evening fell like a heavy blanket, the house humming with anticipation. Dad was away on that business trip, leaving the air freer, charged. Eleanor fussed in the living room, smoothing her skirt, nerves evident in her fidgeting. Billy watched from the doorway, cock already stirring at the thought of what was coming.
The doorbell rang, sharp and insistent. George stood there, grinning, his broad frame filling the frame. “Heard you had a story for me,” he said, clapping Billy on the shoulder. But his eyes slid to Eleanor, lingering.
“Mom, you remember George.” Billy’s voice was casual, but his pulse raced. Eleanor’s cheeks flushed, but she extended a hand. “Nice to… see you again.”
George shook it, holding a beat too long. “Billy tells me you’re quite the… talent.”
The room tensed, words hanging. Billy broke it. “Show him, Mom. Like you did me.”
Eleanor’s eyes widened, but she didn’t protest. Instead, she sank to her knees on the carpet, soft and worn under her. George unzipped, his cock springing free—thick, veined, already hard. She stared, licking her lips unconsciously.
“Open up,” Billy encouraged, and she did, mouth enveloping George with a wet pop. George groaned, hands in her hair. “Holy shit, Billy wasn’t kidding. Fuck, that’s good.”
The sight was intoxicating: Eleanor’s cheeks hollowing, slurping greedily, her hands on his thighs. Billy stroked himself through his pants, the sounds—gurgles, moans—filling his ears. The air smelled of arousal, George’s musky scent mixing with her perfume.
“Suck him dry, Mom,” Billy said, voice thick. George thrust, fucking her face, tears streaming but her eyes locked on his, hungry. She reached back, pulling Billy closer, her other hand freeing his cock to stroke in time.
Billy moaned, the dual sensation overwhelming. “You love this, don’t you? Two cocks for my slutty mom.”
She pulled off George with a gasp. “Yes… God, yes. More.”
George laughed, low and dirty. “Let’s give her what she wants.” He pulled her up, bending her over the sofa arm. Billy watched as George hiked her skirt, exposing lace panties, yanking them down. Her pussy glistened, pink and swollen.
“Fuck her,” Billy urged. George positioned, thrusting in with a wet squelch. Eleanor cried out, the stretch evident in her arching back. Billy moved to her front, feeding her his cock, muffling her moans.
They spit-roasted her, synced thrusts making her body rock. Skin slapped, juices dripped, the room a symphony of filth. George’s grunts grew frantic. “Gonna cum… in your mom’s tight cunt.”
“Do it,” Billy panted, feeling her throat tighten around him as she came, vibrating screams. George roared, flooding her, pulling out to let some drip down her thighs—white against flushed skin.
Billy took his place, sliding into the creamy mess, the sensation slick and taboo. “My turn.” He fucked hard, her pussy milking him, George’s cum lubing the way. She sucked air now, begging, “Fill me, baby… both of you.”
He did, erupting deep, collapsing over her. George watched, smirking. “Best friends share everything, huh?” They laughed, the three tangled in sweat-soaked bliss, the night young.
Hours blurred—more rounds, Eleanor on her back, legs spread, taking them one after another. Her tastes mingled on their cocks, her body a canvas of bites and handprints. By midnight, exhausted, they lay in a heap, breaths syncing, the forbidden trio bonded in cum and secrets.
Chapter 4: The Unexpected Return
Days melted into a haze of lust, the house a den of debauchery. Billy and Eleanor fucked everywhere—the shower, steam cloaking their moans; the backyard under stars, grass tickling skin; even the garage, oil scent mixing with sweat. George joined often, his stamina endless, turning every encounter into a frenzy.
“Your mom’s insatiable,” George panted one afternoon, buried in her ass while Billy took her mouth. The double penetration stretched her limits, her cries muffled but ecstatic. The burn of entry, the fullness—it was raw, pushing boundaries.
But Dad—Robert—came home early, suitcase thumping in the hall. The scene froze: Eleanor on all fours, George pounding her from behind, Billy’s cock in her mouth, drool trailing. Robert’s face twisted from shock to rage.
“What the fuck is this?” His bellow shook the walls. George pulled out, scrambling for clothes, Billy yanking free, cum stringing. Eleanor covered herself, tears mixing with sweat.
“Dad, I—” Billy started, but Robert cut him off. “Out! Both of you! Don’t come back!” His voice cracked, betrayal raw.
George grabbed Billy, they fled to his apartment, hearts racing. The door slammed behind them, city noise muffling the chaos. “Shit, man,” George said, collapsing on the couch. Billy nodded, but his mind was on her—Eleanor’s warmth, her hunger.
Nights at George’s were intense—Billy sucking him off twice daily, the routine comforting but hollow. George’s cock filled his mouth, salty and familiar, but he craved more. “Miss her?” George asked one night, post-orgasm, cum still on Billy’s lips.
“Yeah. Her mouth… pussy. Everything.” They jerked each other then, fantasies shared—Eleanor between them, Robert watching? The ideas twisted, exciting.
Weeks passed, tension building. Billy couldn’t stay away. One evening, Dad’s car gone, he knocked. Eleanor answered in a sheer nightie, nipples visible, no bra. Her eyes lit up. “Billy…”
“Missed you.” He pushed in, kissing her hard, tongues battling, tasting coffee on her. She dropped to knees in the foyer, sucking eagerly, hands clawing his ass. The tile was cold, but her mouth fire.
“Better every time,” he groaned, fucking her face, gagging her sweetly. She deep-throated, nose to pubes, humming. He came fast, flooding her, some dribbling down her chin. She licked it up, eyes locked on his.
“Fuck me now,” she demanded, leading him to the living room. On the floor, legs splayed, her pussy bare and wet. He dove in, lapping first—tart, musky flavor exploding. She writhed, fingers in his hair.
“Eat me, son… yes!” Her orgasm soaked his face, thighs quaking. Then he mounted, sliding home, the familiarity electric. They rutted like animals, her nails raking his back, drawing faint blood—coppery scent faint.
Sudden voice: “If son can fuck mother…” Robert stood there, pants down, cock hard despite fury. Billy froze, buried deep. Robert approached, lubing with spit, pressing against Billy’s ass.
Pain flared—searing, then blooming to pleasure as he hit prostate. “Dad… fuck!” Billy gasped, the fullness pushing him deeper into Eleanor.
Robert thrust, grunting. “Take it, boy.” The three synced—Billy in Mom, Dad in him. Moans layered: Eleanor’s whimpers, Billy’s cries, Robert’s growls. Sweat slicked skin, sliding together.
Robert came first, hot jets in Billy’s ass, triggering his own release into Eleanor. She shattered, milking him. They collapsed, a sweaty pile, breaths ragged. No words at first, just the pounding hearts.
“Family,” Robert muttered finally, hand on Billy’s hip. Eleanor smiled weakly, pulling them close. The taboo had consumed them all.
Chapter 5: Entwined in Eternal Sin
The revelation shifted everything, like a dam breaking. No more hiding—Robert’s anger morphed to acceptance, then hunger. That night, they explored as a unit, boundaries dissolving in the dim living room light.
Eleanor straddled Robert on the sofa, her pussy engulfing him, slow and deep. Billy watched, stroking, then joined—his cock at her ass, pressing in carefully. She gasped, the double fill stretching her, pain-pleasure blurring.
“Oh God… both my boys,” she moaned, rocking between them. The friction was intense, cocks rubbing through thin walls. Robert’s hands gripped her hips, Billy’s her breasts, pinching nipples to peaks.
George arrived later, invited by text, eyes widening at the scene. “Room for one more?” He stripped, joining, feeding Eleanor his cock as she rode. The air reeked of sex—cum, sweat, pussy. Sounds overlapped: slurps, slaps, ecstatic cries.
“Suck him, Mom,” Billy urged from behind, thrusting. She did, gagging on George’s length, drool cascading. Robert bucked up, hitting her depths. The overload built—Eleanor came screaming around George, triggering a chain: George in her mouth, Billy in her ass, Robert in her pussy.
Cum overflowed, dripping everywhere, sticky warmth coating thighs. They switched, endless configurations—Billy fucking Robert’s ass for the first time, the tight heat surprising, Eleanor’s tongue on his balls; George with Robert, gruff moans; Eleanor eating Billy out, tasting the mix.
Days turned to ritual. Mornings: Eleanor waking them with blowjobs, mouths swapping cocks. Afternoons: Poolside orgies, water splashing with thrusts, chlorine mixing with cum. Evenings: Slow, sensual—fingers, tongues exploring every inch.
One night, under candlelight, they lay in the master bed, bodies intertwined. Billy inside Eleanor, Robert in Billy, George in Robert—a chain of penetration, moans harmonizing. Touches everywhere: lips on skin, hands stroking, breaths mingling.
“I love this… us,” Eleanor whispered, climaxing softly. They followed, waves crashing, binding them.
George moved in, the house a haven of hedonism. No regrets, just endless pleasure—taboo’s sweet fruit, ripening forever. In each other’s arms, they found completion, the family forever changed, lost in ecstatic sin.
The end came not with closure, but continuation—nights blending into days, bodies seeking, souls entwined in the fire of forbidden love.
