A Chain of Mothers
Erotic Tales of Incest
By
Esmeralda Greene
Smashwords Edition
Copyright © 2011 by Esmeralda Greene
All rights reserved
See www.EsmeraldaGreene.com for news and other fiction by Esmeralda Greene.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons is entirely coincidental.
This work is intended for adults only. It contains substantial sexually explicit language and scenes that may be considered offensive by some readers.
No characters in this work are under eighteen years of age.
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CONTENTS:
About Esmeralda Greene’s Erotica
My mother sat in a rocking chair, nursing her infant son, my half brother. She was topless, wearing nothing but a pair of cutoff shorts, so I had a good view of the tit that the baby wasn’t sucking on. It was a damn nice view, and it was giving me a hard-on.
I’m nineteen and Mom is in her thirties. She had me while she was still in high school, and raised me as a single mother. Then a few years ago she met Marcel, and eventually they got married and decided they wanted to have a kid together. So here I am with a baby brother that -- technically at least -- I’m old enough to be a father to. Not that I mind; the little squirt seems to be okay as babies go, and there are some fringe benefits to having him around, like getting a good look at my mom’s tits when she breastfeeds him.
Sometimes when Mom breastfeeds, she’ll just sneak up one corner of her shirt so you can’t see anything at all except the back of the baby’s head, but Mom wasn’t doing that this time. She had just stripped off her shirt and bra before sitting in her rocker to give little Raphael her boob. I suppose that’s more convenient than the sneaking-up-a-corner-of-your-shirt thing.
Mom being so young when she had me, she’s still young and hot-looking now. Not only that, but she acts young too. She’s into running and swimming, and she’s always full of energy, bouncing around the house doing three different things at once and never seeming to get tired or cranky. I love it when I have friends over at my house and they meet Mom. I wish I had a nickel for every time someone’s said to me “dude, your mom is awesome!” Not “your mom is cool” or “your mom is a MILF,” but awesome. That’s the word they use.
So Mom was sitting there, mostly naked and looking totally hot, with little Raph sucking away on her left tit. Her rocker was high-backed and cushioned, and Mom was relaxing her head back with her eyes closed. I came in and sat on the couch where I had a good view of her, and started fiddling with my phone like I was playing a game or texting someone. I was thinking about maybe taking a picture of her with my phone when, without opening her eyes, Mom said to me, “Getting a nice eyeful, Cliff?”
She smiled as she said this, her eyes still closed. I had to smile too, thinking how I can’t get away with anything with Mom; she just knows me too well. And I knew it was no big deal that she’d caught me perving on her body; it was far from the first time that had happened. Going back to when I first started noticing girls, I’ve always enjoyed ogling my mom -- whether it’s her ass under a pair of snug jeans, or her nipples showing through when she doesn’t have a bra on, or her legs when she’s in shorts or a skirt, I like looking at her, and she’s seen me doing it plenty of times. She’s cool about it, maybe making a joke or teasing me about the hard-on in my pants.
So I had no reason to feel bad that she’d busted me this time, and I decided to just be honest. “You look great, Mom,” I said. “You’re really beautiful.” Saying that went a little further than the sort of kidding around Mom and I usually did, but then, having my mom sit in front of me with her boobs showing (or at least the one that wasn’t covered up by my kid brother’s face) was fairly new too.
Mom opened her eyes and smiled at me when I said that. “Thank you, Cliff,” she said. Then she looked down at her chest. “My tits are sure a lot bigger since I got pregnant, eh?
“Um, yeah,” I agreed with a little laughing, throat-clearing cough. Mom was teasing me again, trying to make me embarrassed by saying aloud what she knew I was thinking. Her tits have always been a nice respectable size -- I knew that from seeing her in snug clothes and in her bra a couple of times -- but now they were definitely what you’d call big, especially on her small body and trim waist.
We sat there quietly for a while. Every now and then I’d pretend to be doing something on my phone, but mostly I just looked at Mom as she held the baby to her breast, rocking the chair slowly and quietly. Eventually she flipped Raphael over, switching him to her right side. For a magical second there, I got to see both of her tits at once, unobscured by a nursing baby.
“I can remember when it was you I was nursing,” Mom said. “Sometimes it seems like that was just a few days ago...” Her voice trailed off and she looked down at Raph with that typical loving-mother look.
“I wish I could remember that,” I blurted, not really thinking about how that would sound before I said it.
Mom laughed, but didn’t say anything. Meanwhile, my attention was zooming in on her left nipple -- the one that my brother had been sucking on until a minute ago. It was oozing milk; a droplet of white would appear at the end of her honey-brown nipple, then grow and grow, and finally drip off, landing on Raph’s foot or leg. Hypnotized, I watched this process repeat over and over: the white droplet appearing, growing, dripping down, only to be replaced by another droplet appearing, growing, dripping down... My cock felt painfully swollen in my pants.
Suddenly Mom moved, startling me. Apparently Raph was done feeding, and Mom lifted him up onto her chest and patted his back for a minute or so. Then she got up, presumably to put Raph down in his crib. As soon as she was out of the room, I put my hand on my crotch and gave myself a hard, comforting grope. I figured the show was over for today, and after sitting there in a daze for a few moments longer I was about to get up and go to my room for a much-needed jerk-off session. Just then Mom came back in the room and sat on the rocking chair again. She’d put a shirt on, but hadn’t buttoned it, and as she sat back in the chair it fell open, revealing both of her magnificent tits.
She simply sat there at first, one hand crossed over the other on her lap, looking at me with a soft smile. “You were quite different from Raphie,” she said finally.
“Different?”
“The way you nursed on me,” she said.
“How was I different?”
An uncertain smile quivered on her lips, like she was trying to get up the nerve to say something. Finally she said, “Oh, just different.”
Then she looked down at her chest again. Both of her nipples were dripping now, the droplets falling down to her lap, making wet spots on her shorts. Mom made a little murmuring “Hm” sound and held two fingers together under her right nipple, catching the next drop as it fell, and then the next.
“I’d love to know what that tastes like,” I said, again blurting the words out before I had a chance to censor myself.
Mom looked up at me quickly, and for a second I was afraid she was angry. But then she smiled and got up from the rocker, coming toward me. “That’s easy enough,” she said, and she sat down on the couch beside me, folding one leg to the side so she could sit at an angle and face me. Then she put her fingers under her dripping nipple again, collecting one, two, three drops of her milk. She held her wet fingers toward my face. “Have a little taste,” she said.
My heart started slamming in my chest. I leaned forward, forcing myself not to hurry, and closed my lips around her fingers, sucking the milk off. “It’s good,” I murmured, not pulling my head back.
“A little more?” Mom asked. Both of us were speaking in something close to a whisper now. She put her fingers under her nipple again. It was dripping faster now, almost a steady stream. This time when she moved her fingers toward my mouth they were soaked and dripping with milk, and I spent a little more time sucking them clean.
“More,” I whispered after she slipped her fingers out of my mouth, and then I did something I can still hardly believe I had the balls to do. Mom once more put her fingers under the dribble of milk flowing from her nipple, but I reached over and pushed her hand away. Because of the way I’d leaned forward to take the milk from her fingers, barely more than a foot separated my face from her right breast. Holding onto the back of the couch for balance, I leaned over some more, closing that distance. Very slowly at first, I touched my tongue, and then my lips, to her nipple. Then I closed my lips around it and started sucking.
I don’t really know how Mom reacted at first. My heart was pounding so loudly in my ears, and I was so utterly engulfed in the experience of what I was doing, that I’m not sure I would have noticed if she had said something, or gasped, or even yelled at me. All I knew is that sweet delicious milk from my beautiful mother’s tit was flowing into my mouth. I sucked and swallowed, my mind, like my tongue, floating in a sea of warm, milky bliss.
A minute or two passed, maybe more. I kept sucking, and the flow of Mom’s milk showed no sign of diminishing. I pulled more and more from her, and still it came when I sucked again. I felt my mother’s hand at the back of my head. With tender pressure, she was holding me to her; holding my face to her breast, asking me to stay there. Emboldened by this, I dropped one hand to her leg and stroked her thigh, moving my hand back and forth over her warm, satin-smooth skin.
Then a sound came from Mom’s lips. It was a soft, breathy moan; soon followed by another, louder than the first, and then another. She’s getting off on this, I realized, and my own excitement ratcheted up by a dozen notches. I kept up my sucking, and kept up my soft stroking of her thigh, now moving my hand up so that my fingers started brushing against the crotch of her shorts.
And suddenly Mom was shouting; sharp, loud cries that echoed in the room. Startled, I took my mouth from her breast and looked up at her face. Her head was thrown back, her eyes tightly shut and her mouth open wide. The hand that had been at the back of my head had slipped around to my chest, and was clutching at the front of my shirt, her fingers in a tight fist. Milk was squirting out of both nipples now, each nipple producing a bunch of little jets as thin as needles that shot across the two feet or so separating my body from hers and landing on my shirt.
I watched my mother having an orgasm, so full of love and horniness for her that I thought my heart and my cock would both explode. As her desperate shouts gave way to moans, and then to heavy, gasping breaths, I sat crouching over her, my face close to hers, stroking her cheek and her neck with my fingers. Finally her eyes fluttered open and she looked at me, smiling and laughing breathlessly. “That’s...” she said, “That’s... how nursing you was different from little Raph. You always made me come when you sucked on me.”
After a few more moments of catching her breath, Mom gave herself a little shake and refocused her eyes on me. “Well!” she said in a matter-of-fact tone. “I guess it’s time I returned the favor, eh?”
“Huh?” I said blankly. I was still half-crouched over her with one knee on the couch and the foot of my other leg on the floor. I had one hand loosely cupped over her left breast, my palm slick with the milk that was still dribbling out of her.
Mom grinned, chuckling at my confused look. She got up from the couch, and with a nudge got me to sit back. She knelt at my feet and ran her hands up along my thighs until both of them were at my crotch, caressing the bulge in my jeans. “You sucked on me and gave me a really good orgasm,” she said in a purring voice. “So I think I should return the favor.” She started unbuckling my belt. “Take your pants down so I can suck on you, Cliff,” she said.
I didn’t say anything; I don’t think my voice would have worked if I’d tried to. I just finished what Mom had started, opening my pants and then lifting my butt as I pushed my pants and underpants down to the middle of my thighs. My cock unfolded and sprang up, swaying in the air.
“Oh... nice!” Mom said in a low, drawn-out whisper. She tilted her head, resting her cheek on my knee as she gazed up at my cock, her eyes half closed. She reached out a hand and very lightly closed it around my shaft, giving it the slightest hint of a stroke before drawing her hand away again. I groaned and tilted my head back.
Then suddenly Mom backed away from me. I suffered through a half-second of bewilderment and despair, and then she said, “Take your clothes off, Cliff. Take everything off. It’s been too long since I’ve seen you naked.”
I yanked my shirt off over my head and then pushed my pants the rest of the way down my legs, wrenching off my sneakers, socks, pants and underpants all in one tangled wad.
Mom knelt at my feet again, then put a hand on each of my knees and spread my legs wide so she could move up in between them. She hunched low so that her eyes were at the level of my balls, looking up at my cock and then beyond that to my face. “When you were a baby,” she said softly, “when you would nurse on me and I would have orgasm after orgasm as I held you to my tit, I used to say to you, ‘Some day I’m going to make this up to you, Cliff. When you’re a big boy with a big, stiff penis, I’m going to take that penis in my mouth and suck on it until you come.’” She paused, grinning up at me. “It’s time for me to keep my promise, Sweetheart,” she said, and then with a lunge she came at me, engulfing my cock in her mouth.
It’s one of life’s little miracles that I didn’t blow my load in that first second after Mom took me in her mouth and started bobbing her head up and down. But somehow I held back the explosion. I gasped and moaned in ecstasy, looking down at the top of my mother’s head, her straight, dark brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. She worked on me for what felt like hours but was probably only minutes. From time to time she would take my cock out of her mouth and hold it in her hand, grinning up at me as she pumped it.
At one of these little breaks, I saw Mom get a mischievous gleam in her eye. She sat up straight and took her stroking hand away from my cock. Then she took both of her tits in her hands, holding them so her nipples stuck out between her thumbs and forefingers. She pinched down on her tits just behind the nipples, and once again the needle-fine streams of milk began to squirt out, covering the distance between us and landing on my belly and legs and cock. It was my cock she was aiming for, and she giggled as she tried to direct the wavering streams.
The sensation of the warm, fine jets hitting my cock was delicate and barely perceptible, and yet it was incredible. And the amazing, unbelievable sight of what my mother was doing only added to the experience. I writhed on the couch, making a strangled groan. “Jesus, Mom,” I rasped. “I’m gonna come. I’m gonna fucking come...” I clutched at the seat cushions on either side of me, forcing myself not to grab my cock and jerk myself over the edge to orgasm.
But a second later I was over the edge anyway. With nothing touching me except the milk my mother was spraying from her nipples, I began to come. I let out a roar as the first blast of cum shot out of me. My mom saw what was happening and reacted in an instant, grabbing my cock and bringing her head down to take it back into her mouth. As I groaned and squirmed, jerking my hips up again and again with each pulse of my orgasm, she mewed and gurgled around my cock, seeming to enjoy my ejaculation almost as much as I was.
When I was finally still, she held my cock in her mouth for about a minute longer, drawing residual twitches and shudders from me by sucking or flicking her tongue over my cock head. Finally she lifted her face, letting my softening organ slip from her mouth. She grinned at me with her lips closed tight, obviously still holding onto my load. Then she made a little chuckling sound through her nose and swallowed. “Wow... Yum,” she laughed when she could open her mouth again. I noticed then that my first jet of cum had landed along the top of Mom’s head, painting a gooey line of white across her dark hair.
With an extravagant sigh, Mom got up and then flopped down onto the couch beside me. “Thank you Cliff,” she said, patting her stomach. “We nursing mothers need our protein.” Then she took my hand in hers and held it as we rested there for a minute or so. Finally she straightened up, inhaling deeply and stretching her arms up above her head. “Well, I’ve got things to do in the kitchen,” she said, “and I’m sure you’ve got homework you should be doing.” She stood up and then bent down over me to kiss me on the lips, darting her tongue into my mouth for a fraction of a second. As she stood up again she looked pointedly down at my lap, where my cock was flopped over, still half-hard. “Don’t bother getting dressed, Cliff,” she said. “It will be time for Raphie’s next feeding in an hour.”
It was breakfast, and I was going around the table ladling out scrambled eggs onto everyone’s plate. When I got to Joshua’s place and slapped his portion down, he said “Thanks Mom,” and snaked his arm around my leg, pulling me close. This is something Josh had been doing a lot lately, at the breakfast table and elsewhere. He’d take any excuse to touch me, hug me, pat me on the hip or the bottom.
I was wearing shorts, and having Josh’s big, muscular arm tight against the skin of my thigh felt pretty fine, I don’t mind saying. Josh is a gorgeous boy, just like both his brothers, and like any woman, I like it when a good-looking boy pays me some attention. I guess I smiled some and leaned into Josh’s shoulder. That’s when Matthew suddenly exploded up out of his seat, yelling, “I told you to quit doing that, you sumbitch fagot!” He punched his brother in the shoulder, knocking Josh backward so his chair tipped over. Matthew is my oldest boy and Josh is the middle one, with Brandon being the youngest. There’s less than a year between each of them; my hubby Jacob just kept knocking me up with boys in the first three years of our marriage, like: boom, boom, boom. I had my tubes tied up after Brandon; otherwise we’d probably have 15 or so sons crowded into our four-room farmhouse by now.
So anyway, Josh scrambled to his feet quick as a cat, and the next thing you know he and Mat are having an old fashioned bare-knuckle boxing match in the middle of the room. Me, I just stood there stupid-like, still holding my frying pan with the rest of the eggs in it, not knowing what to do. I’d never seen any of my boys fighting with each other like this before.
Jacob wasn’t struck dumb like me. He stood up, leaning his hands on the table, and yelled out, “Stop!” Just that one word was all he said, and that was all he had to say. My Jacob doesn’t hardly ever raise his voice, but when he does... well, you’d just better hope your roof is nailed down good.
Mat and Josh stopped their fighting. They stood, glaring at each other, their fists at their sides, breathing hard. Josh was bleeding from his lip, and the side of Mat’s face had the beginnings of a nasty bruise.
“What the hell is wrong with you two?” Jacob said, his face twisted up in confusion. “We don’t fight in this family. Not with anyone else, and sure as hell not with each other!” Still standing there, Jacob took a long, slow look at his two oldest sons, and then he looked at me. He looked at me like he was thinking hard about something, and I confess that made me feel funny. I started worrying that maybe what had happened was my fault, though I couldn’t see how.
Then Jacob sat down again, moving slow. “I’m going to have to think about this,” he said. “Now you boys sit and finish your breakfast.” Jacob isn’t much of a talker, not until he’s taken the time to figure out exactly what he wants to say.
So that night after we finished our supper and we were still sitting at the table, Jacob says, “Okay everyone, listen up.” And we all got quiet because we knew he had something important to say.
“Up to now,” Jacob says, “we’ve had a nice peaceable household. And I think the reason why things are peaceable is that we share everything we have. We ain’t rich folk and we don’t have much, but what we have we divide out amongst ourselves equal-like. If we only have a little bit of meat for supper, I don’t go saying, ‘Well, I’m the man of the house so I get all the meat.’ We share equal, and that’s the right and fair way for a family to do things; you all agree?”
Me and the boys all nodded and said we agreed.
“All right then,” Jacob went on. “Well, you boys are growing up, and that means things are changing. You’re starting to need what a man needs. You’re starting to need a woman in your bed.”
Jacob looked at me when he said this, smiling with that warm look in his eye that lets me know that I’m his woman. I got all bashful and happy and wet between my legs the way I always do when he looks at me like that.
“Now,” Jacob said, “I know it doesn’t help you boys much that your ma here is about the most beautiful girl any of us in this county has ever seen or is likely to see. And it doesn’t help much that we live in this little house with your bedroom right next to ours, and when your ma and me are having our fun at night... well, your mother doesn’t exactly keep it a secret that she’s feeling good.”
The boys all looked down at the table and chuckled when Jacob said that, and I could feel my face getting red.
Jacob was quiet for a while, and then he reached over to me and took my hand. “Honey,” he said, “Do you see where I’m going with this?”
Well I guess sometimes I’m not the sharpest knife in the drawer, because until he asked me that, I hadn’t put together the pieces of what he was saying. But as soon as he asked the question, the little light clicked on in my head. My eyes got big and I sucked in a breath. “You... you’re saying I should... you want to share... me?” The last word came out as a squeak.
“That’s right, Honey,” Jacob said, really soft and quiet. “I think that’s the fair thing to do, and the best way to keep peace in our family.”
I didn’t say anything at first. I just looked around the table, looking at each one of my sons, and it was like I was seeing each of them for the first time. Instead of seeing one of my little boys -- a little tyke whose diapers I had changed and who had nursed the milk from my breasts -- now I was seeing someone who could come to my bed at night, who could get under the sheets with me, lay on top of me like Jacob did, fill me up with his hard cock, give me the good feeling that makes me yell and scream. All the things that Jacob does for me, each one of my boys could be doing too -- all of them, every night.
Thinking those thoughts, my voice went away for a while, and I just sat there with my eyes wide. When my voice finally came back, I squeezed Jacob’s hand and said, “I guess you’re right Honey. I guess that seems like the fair way to do things.” I was trying to sound all cool-headed and reasonable, but under the table I had my free hand pressing between my legs and I was so wet there that I could feel it soaking through my jeans.
The boys all agreed that this sounded good to them, and like me they were all trying to act like this was just another family decision, like whether to plant a field or leave it fallow. But I’m their mother, and I could tell that all three of them were so excited they were fit to bust.
That night while I was washing the dishes, Jacob and the boys rearranged the beds. Jacob and I used to sleep in our own room with two beds pushed together, but now one of those beds was going into the big bedroom that the boys all shared. I would have the smaller bedroom to myself, Jacob would sleep in the same room with our sons, and he and the boys would take turns coming to my room and getting into bed with me. “How am I supposed to get any sleep if I’m taking care of all four of you every night?” I said with a laugh. Not that I really cared about that. There’s better things in the world than sleep, as any woman who’s had a man between her legs will tell you.
“Me and the boys will start making breakfast, so you can sleep late in the mornings.” Jacob said. My Jacob always thinks things through and figures all the details.
So after I’d finished my evening chores I heated up some water and had myself a nice bath, using some of the fancy bath oil Jacob got me for my last birthday. I came out of the bathroom naked as a jaybird -- I figured my sons are going to be seeing me that way soon enough anyway -- and just as cool as you please I went out into the main room where my man and my boys were all sitting, and I stood there, letting them look at me. I put my fists on my hips. “So who’s going to be first?” I asked.
“We’ll go by age tonight,” Jacob said. “Brandon first.”
I went over to where Brandon was sitting. My baby, my youngest, the shyest and the sweetest of my boys. Unlike Mat and Josh, I was pretty sure Brandon hadn’t been with a girl yet. He was sitting with his hands in his lap, his eyes down, as bashful as a fawn in the woods. My heart filled up with so much love at that moment that I could feel it in my throat, making it hard to breathe. I reached down and took his hand, pulling him to his feet. I put my arms around him and held him tight, pressing my whole naked body against him. Even in my bare feet Brandon was still a little shorter than me, unlike the other boys, and somehow that fact made me love him even more right then, and also made me even wetter between my legs. I put a hand on his cheek and tilted his face up to mine, and kissed him on the lips the way a woman kisses her man.
A good long time later our lips separated. “You want to come to bed with your ma, Brandon?” I asked, though by that time I knew the answer to my question. I could feel a hard lump pressing into my thigh, and from the way Brandon was kissing me back, it was clear he was getting over his shyness in a hurry. With his hand in mine we went into the bedroom. I left the door open, thinking that my other boys and Jacob would enjoy watching.
I helped Brandon take his clothes off. When I pulled his pants down I was on my knees in front of him, and as his shorts came down a big hard cock bounced up right in front of my face. Maybe some girls can resist an invitation like that, but I sure can’t, so I took that big thing into my mouth and started sucking. Brandon’s tool was at least as big as Jacob’s, and -- I would learn later that night -- bigger than either of his brothers. And this with him not even fully grown.
Brandon shivered all over as I closed my mouth around him, and then started breathing fast and making the sorts of noises that only a woman’s attention can bring out of a man. He put his hands on my head, not to force himself deeper into my mouth the way some men do, but just to help balance himself, because his legs were getting shaky and wobbly already. I figured he wasn’t going to last too long this first time anyway, so I decided to show him a little trick I’d learned a long time ago. I put my hands on my sweet boy’s hard little bum, and I pulled myself forward, forcing that big tool of his all the way to the back of my mouth -- and kept going. I opened up my throat and let it go down in there, deeper and deeper until my face was pressed up flat to Brandon’s tummy and my chin was pushing his ball sack back between his legs. I heard Brandon gasp like someone had poured ice water down his back, and I heard my other two boys whispering out cuss words too. I figure this was the first time they’d seen a girl who can do that particular little trick with a man.
With just a few more bobs of my head, my Brandon had all he could take. He closed his fists in my hair as I slid him down my throat one last time, and then his whole body went as stiff as an oak tree and he held me there, buried as deep as he could go. I felt the shivers running along the length of his tool, heard the grunting noises he was making and I knew he was feeding me his cream, pumping it straight down to my tummy.
Like I figured, Brandon didn’t go soft after letting go of that first load down my throat. As soon as he relaxed and let me take him out of my mouth, he was pulling me up to kiss me on the lips some more, and then he was sucking on my boobs and putting his hand between my legs and humping his cock against me. Like a kid in a candy store, he wanted to do everything all at once. We tumbled onto the bed together, Brandon pushing and tugging at me in a frenzy to get me on my back and my legs spread. In about two seconds he was inside me, and a minute later he was shooting off for the second time that night. I just laughed and let him rut at me like a horny goat, figuring there would be plenty of time on other nights to teach him how to treat a girl properly. In the meanwhile, he was making up for his lack of a delicate touch with sheer eagerness and a big dick that didn’t seem to know how to go soft. He kept pounding me after his second come, hardly slowing down at all. It was a little bit after his third come that I finally hit the sweet spot myself, and I darn near squeezed the life out of the poor boy when I wrapped my arms and legs around him and screamed out my pleasure.
After that Josh had his turn, and then Matthew. By the time Jacob came and joined me on the bed, I don’t mind admitting that I was feeling a little worn out. But my Jacob was so sweet and loving to me, holding me so gently as he spooned up behind me, kissing me so soft and nice on the back of my neck as he pushed his cock into my gooey wetness, I had my biggest, loudest come of the night with him. It was so good, happening on top of all the other pleasure I’d already had that night, that I cried a few tears into my pillow, holding my Jacob’s big strong hand to my breast and feeling his heart beat against my back. And then I fell asleep, even though Jacob hadn’t had his come yet, and was still pumping away at me from behind.
From that day on, things have been peaceable in our family again. My boys being as young and frisky as they are, it’s turned out that our sex isn’t just something that happens at night, in the bedroom. I’ve put my jeans and coveralls into storage and taken to wearing short skirts with nothing underneath. That makes it a whole lot more convenient when one of my boys (or Jacob -- he seems to be getting pretty frisky these days too) comes along needing some attention. I can just lie down on the grass, or bend over and lean on a fence rail, and whichever one of my good boys it is can sidle up behind me and fill me up, taking care of his needs and mine too. Maybe we don’t get quite as much work done on the farm in a day as we used to, but we more than make up for it in how happy -- and peaceable -- we are.