Title: The Truth
Author: Sara
Keywords: Cheat Mf Fm incest

I'm watching her kiss you in the kitchen.  Your first kiss, after
all the flirting that started off innocent, childish.  I don't
know when it turned serious, but it was obvious to me that it
did, how your emotions began their violent swings between
exaltation and depression.  You were in love, and it was
hopeless.  I didn't know it was her until I saw you the night of
the Freeman's party, brilliant, alive, alert, and your eyes
tracking her whenever you thought I wasn't watching.

And oh, she was so worth watching as she and Seth moved around
the room.  I was proud of our son in his white tie and tails, his
beautiful girlfriend with her hair black as midnight and her dark
passionate eyes.  She didn't look back at you: but Katie is more
discrete than you are, has more to lose maybe.  She has a natural
elegance, but her people don't belong in places like that.

When they left, she stood on tiptoes to kiss you on the cheek,
and I saw her emboldened by the champagne we'd all had too much
of, brushing her long white fingers against your neck, and
thought that that was maybe the first of the real flirting, the
moment when you passed from the game to the real intoxication,
from a crush to falling in love.

To your credit, Alan, you kept your feet, and you were discrete,
and nobody could have found fault with the graceful way you
kissed your son's slender girlfriend on the cheek in return and
pressed her hand.

Watching her walk out the door sheathed in a black dress and
holding Seth's arm, into the warm Charleston night, I thought for
the twentieth time what it must be like to watch them together,
this beautiful couple, destined for great careers, brilliant and
charismatic.  I could see them.  Oh, it made me so wet.  His
hands cupping her ripe young breasts, his lips around her
nipples, her eyes with that faraway look that they sometimes wear
when he touches her.

Her eyes do not have that look now.  They are closed, and I can
see how intent she is on you as she sucks on your tongue.  She's
in love with you, Alan, not Seth.  I watch as her fingers deftly
find your belt, and she strokes your cock with those perfect
fingers as she kisses you.

I know how she feels, how you smell, how your sexuality fills a
room, the tall middle-aged doctor.  It crosses my mind that she
wants you to dominate her, but even now you have pressed her up
against our kitchen counter and your kisses are melting her as
she holds your cock as though for dear life and you have raised
her skirt and your skilled fingers are slow but sure on her clit.
 I can hear it: she is very wet, and I wish I could lick your
balls as you pull on my hair while you finger her and she strokes
you.  I want to kiss her long slender hand.

And of course I want to kill you both, want you to suffer,
because as you lift her, and she half sobs with pleasure and
guilt and your huge, gifted, vibrating cock penetrates her, I
have our son's smaller lovely cock in my hands and he is weeping
also and coming on his mother's legs as we sit and watch the
video screen on which you have seduced his girlfriend; and you
are now coming with her, coming in her, and leaving a milky white
river on her thighs as I comfort him and scoop his semen up on
one of my fingers and place it on my tongue, and kiss him, and
tell him, "She will never love anyone now but your father," and I
tell him the truth, which is that by this time tomorrow you will
have taken her perfect ass, and she will be your slave. 


  
The Truth