Chapter 8
It was odd, Caroline thought as she pulled into the driveway, that there were no lights on in the house. It was not yet sunset, but with the rain it was almost as dark as night. A little light showed through the curtains in the living room window. It looked like they'd lit a fire, but it was strange for them to sit there in the dark.

When she walked in and took off her raincoat the house seemed deserted. Maybe they'd gone over to friends, she thought, and left the fire going. Though that wasn't like Sam. He was always very careful with things like that. A faint sound came from the living room, like voices. So they were here after all.

Caroline walked into the living room. It was so dark she could barely see anything. The fire was going, as she'd thought, but she didn't see the kids. Then she caught the glint of firelight on skin and heard a soft sound, like Joan's voice, but without words. Why were they lying in front of the fire? And what were they...

"Jesus Christ!" Caroline screamed. "What are you doing?!"

Sam and Joan had been too intent on each other to notice her entrance, but at her cry they both looked up in startlement. Sam jumped to his feet and offered a hand to help Joan. They were both nude. It was more than obvious what they'd been doing.

"Mom!" Joan said. "We didn't..."

"Get out of here! Go to your rooms, right now! Both of you! God damn it, right now!"

The kids fled upstairs, though the bit of a giggle that floated back to her didn't indicate that they were very worried about her anger. The sound of two doors closing followed. Caroline found herself trembling. How had this happened? How long had it been going on? What had she done wrong, that her children were...were...she couldn't bring herself to think it. An image of them, bodies together, limbs entwined, came back to her. She had to go talk to them; confront them; find out what was going on. But at the moment she couldn't face it. Still numb with shock, she went into the kitchen. There was a bottle of brandy in the cupboard, and she really needed a drink.

Sam lay on his bed, waiting. He'd put on some clothing, not liking his mother's probable reaction if she found him still naked. He wasn't too worried. His inner certainty assured him that he would find his way out of this problem. Mom had just been surprised, that was all.

He heard the creak of the stairs, then a knock at Joan's door. Voices rose and fell, too muffled for him to make out words, though he could recognize the intonation: angry at first; questioning; pleading.

After a while Joan's door closed again, and a knock came at his own.

"Come in," Sam called.

The door swung open and his mother stood in the doorway. She looked a bit calmer, but still deeply upset. Her face was flushed. A faint scent of alcohol came to him; she'd had a drink, maybe more than one.

"Sam," his mother said.

Sam sat up on his bed. "I'm sorry we upset you, Mom."

Caroline drew in a breath, then let it out. "But not sorry for what you did?"

"No," Sam said. "Not really."

His mother closed her eyes, then opened them. "Joan said that today was the first time you...did this. Is that true?"

"Yes," Sam said.

"Why?!" Caroline demanded, then before he could answer, said "Never mind. I know we've all been under a lot of stress...and with your illness... anyway, I'm sure we can figure this out. I'm going to call a man I know tomorrow. He's a therapist. I want you to talk to him. Joan, too."

"I'll talk to him, if you want me to," Sam agreed quietly. "But there isn't anything wrong with us."

"Isn't...!" Caroline stopped herself. "I think you'd better stay in your room tonight. Are you hungry? I can bring you something."

"I'm all right," Sam said. "I'll stay in here."

"Well...good night, then," Caroline said, and left abruptly, closing the door behind her.

Sam picked up the book he'd been reading earlier and settled back to wait. He didn't want to see a therapist, but he didn't really think he would have to. After seeing his mother, he knew what he was going to do.

Caroline got ready for bed with a feeling of despair. She'd eaten her dinner alone, and sat listlessly staring at a book without reading it. Another glass of brandy had made her feel dizzy, but hadn't eased her inner turmoil. The shock of seeing her children fucking -- she made herself think the words with brutal honesty -- had affected her; but even worse was her own reaction to the sight. Though she could not admit it to her kids, she had to admit it to herself. Her first reaction had been lust. Even jealousy. When she thought of her two kids together (and the image came back to her again and again, as if seared onto her mind's eye), she wondered what it would be like if it had been her instead of Joan; if Sam's cock had been in her pussy. It gave her a tingle every time she thought about it, and she couldn't stop thinking about it.

God, she thought. Have I somehow infected my children with my own, unnatural desires? Are they acting out a fantasy of mine? It had somehow come out of her worry for Sam, which brought her love for him to the forefront, and her increasingly frustrated longing for a man of her own.

Numbly, she looked at her body in the mirror. The sight, which had given her some satisfaction the night before, now just enhanced her anxiety. Joan could almost have been a younger version of herself; and Sam, a younger version of her husband. She remembered, vividly, the first time she and James had made love, the dizzying pleasure of it, his strong muscles moving over her, his hardness penetrating to the core of her being. His features kept blurring, transforming into Sam's. With a shock she realized that her hand had moved between her legs, her fingers slicking over the moisture there. She snatched the hand away. What was she doing? She was masturbating to the image of her son! She wished now that she hadn't drunk the brandy; it seemed to sap her self-control.

Quickly Caroline shut out the lights, and climbed into bed without bothering with her nightgown. She tried to lay still, her arms rigidly at her sides, but it was no good. As soon as her mind wandered to the thought of her kids in the living room, her hand would slip between her legs again. Finally she gave in. With her eyes closed, she stroked herself, imagining Sam's strong arms around her, his hard cock inside her. She would have to talk to the counselor as well, she thought, as her pleasure mounted. There was something wrong with her...very, very wrong...

Orgasm washed over her, bringing an audible groan from her throat. Almost at once, she collapsed into sleep.

Sam waited for a while after hearing his mother's door close before leaving his room. He opened Joan's door a crack and slipped into her room, closing it after him. She woke as soon as he touched her, scooting over to let him get into bed with her. He took her in his arms and held her against his chest. It felt very natural.

"Sorry," he whispered. "I guess we should have kept a better eye on the time."

Joan giggled a little. "I'm not really sorry, except that we were interrupted. But I guess we really upset Mom."

"Yeah," Sam said, feeling a bit guilty.

"She wants me to talk to a therapist."

"Me too."

Joan sighed. "I don't really want to. What if word gets out? And...I don't want to stop."

"Maybe we won't have to," Sam suggested.

Joan looked up at him. "Really? How?"

Sam hesitated before speaking. "I think Mom was upset by more than just finding us there. I think...I think she kind of wishes it were her, and that feeling bothers her."

"Really?" Joan said in surprise.

"Yeah." Sam felt the same inner confidence. "Yeah, I do."

"Wow!" Joan rested her head back on his chest. "I never thought of that."

They lay together for a little while. Then Sam said, "What would you think about that? Would it bother you?"

"You and Mom?" Joan considered. "Well...no, not really. I mean, I'd still want to fuck you whenever possible. But...no, it would be okay if you were fucking her, too." She thought about it some more. "In a strange way, it would be kind of nice. You know, something all of us had in common."

Sam tilted his head down and kissed her. "You're the greatest, you know that?"

"Yeah," said Joan, kissing him back. "About time you realized it."

They snuggled together for a while longer. After a few minutes, Joan asked, "So, are you going to...you know, try with Mom?"

"Yeah," Sam said. "I'm going to try it tonight. But I wanted to tell you first."

"OK," Joan said. "So, how's your stamina?"

Sam chuckled. "I've got more stamina than you know what to do with. Why?"

Joan shifted away from him and sat up, peeling her nightgown off over her head, then stripping off her panties. Her upturned nipples were erect. She helped Sam remove his t-shirt and shorts, then slid back into bed, pulling him onto her.

"Mom interrupted us at a kind of critical point," Joan said. "I'd sort of like to recapture the moment."

Sam pushed into her, provoking a soft sigh of contentment. "All right," he said, starting to move inside her, "but keep it down! We don't want to wake Mom. At least, not prematurely."

Sam stepped quietly into Caroline's bedroom and closed the door behind him. He paused to let his eyes adjust. His mother kept a night-light in her bathroom, and a bit of watery moonlight had broken through the clouds as well. Caroline lay on her back on the bed, apparently heavily asleep.

When he was able to make out all the objects in the room, he moved to the side of her bed. Her eyes were closed; her red hair, color invisible in the dim light, was spread out about her head. Sam gently drew the covers off of her. She stirred, but didn't wake; under the covers she was nude, one hand resting lightly on her thigh. He could smell the scent of her arousal clinging to her, mingling with the faint scent of brandy, and felt his cock become erect again. He had left his night-clothes in Joan's room. He didn't think he'd need them.

God, she was beautiful. He had always known it at an objective level, but now he drank in the sensual delight of her: soft lips, high cheeks, full breasts rising and falling with her breathing. She stirred a little in her sleep, seemed to mumble something, then was still again.

With a feather light touch he moved his fingers over her skin, tracing her lips, her cheeks, her throat; moving down to her breasts, he teased the nipples ever so lightly, bringing them fully aroused. Down over her belly, her thighs. Without her waking, symptoms of arousal had begun to appear on her; her skin flushed, her breathing quickened. He stroked gently over her slit, and watched as her thighs instinctively parted. Continuing these motions with one hand, he moved the other back to her breasts, stimulating and arousing her.

"Oh, Sam..." she sighed, and woke. Seeing him there, she went rigid, then visibly relaxed. "Oh, Sam," she groaned again in a tone of resignation.

"Hi, Mom," he said quietly. "I thought...this was what you really wanted. Isn't it?" He continued to touch her, sliding a finger inside her to stroke within.

For a long moment, Caroline seemed to struggle with herself. Then all resistance left her.

"Yes, Sam," she said. "This is what I wanted. Please -- please, just do it to me. I need you inside me so badly I can't stand it."

Sam instantly climbed onto the bed. He slid into her as smoothly as a dream, Caroline groaning in acceptance. Her arms and legs came around him and pulled his body to her. They kissed, first lips, then tongues, with greater and greater urgency.

"You see, Mom?" Sam said after a while. "You see how right it is?"

"It feels right," Caroline said almost dreamily, through a haze of pleasure, "It feels perfect. I never want it to stop."

Sam smiled, then increased his pace, moving her towards her first orgasm. "It will go on as long as you want. You'll see..."

Down the hall, Joan heard the loud moans of her mother's climax even through two closed doors. Smiling to herself, she closed her eyes and went to sleep.
