Household Sluts

I envied Mom. No, I was achingly jealous her. Was this an entirely natural, if unreasonable, emotional response from a daughter toward her mother; a quasi-Sapphic Oedipus complex sort of thing? Perhaps. But, damnit, watching the two of them rutting like animals had my guts churning. And the crotch of the plain white cotton panties I was wearing underneath my tartan plaid skirt… it felt wet; like I had been too slow in racing for the potty and had peed a little in them.

I squeezed my thighs together to stop the trembling that, at some unrealized point, had crept into my legs. "Nooo," I moaned under my breath. Apparently, I had indeed suffered an accidental spurt of incontinence and it hadn't been a little accident, either. Not the way the crotch of my panties was squishing against my, surprisingly, hot pussy. It was a tormenting sensation, and I don't mean because I hadn't peed my panties since I had been a very little girl.

"Ughhh… ungh… unghhhhhhhhhhhh!" my mother grunted and groaned over and over as she worked her sloppy pussy on that magnificent black cock, cumming right along with her black lover. For nearly two minutes she ground her pussy on his cock before finally collapsing on his chest. "Thank you, Daddy," she cooed. "You always make me feel so good inside… so fucking good all over."

"All over." Yes, it was all over—except for the post-sex snuggling I figured they'd do. So, with at least my curiosity satiated for the time being, I made to sneak off back down the hall, go out to my car and call from my cell phone, then give them half an hour for Mom to get the severely disheveled bed made and for the two them to make themselves presentable for company before coming back in. A good plan, I thought; both prudent and courteous on my part and, providing I could keep my eyes from straying to the pronounced bulge I was almost certain would not be unnoticeable in the man's crotch, or commented in more than a passing way concerning the rosy glow of recent sex I was dead certain would be flushing my mother's cheeks, neither of them would catch on that I had stood in the doorway of my mother's bedroom watching them fuck each other like a horny pair of interracial rabbits.

However, as most carefully thought out plans of mice and men so often go… You guessed it; I got caught.

The man, Mom's Black Stud Daddy, raised his head above my mother's and, after a long, hard look, he—of all the outlandish things imaginable—winked at me. "Seems we had us an audience this session, Emma," he chortled. It wasn't a derisive, mean-spirited horselaugh; it was the easy laugh of someone who was sure of himself, confident he could handle any situation and wouldn't come unnerved simply because he had been caught with his pants down… in this case, completely off. There was good-natured warmth and even a discernable a note of deep affection in his familiar use of my mother's name.

It was only a matter of seconds before I figured all hell was going to erupt in the room, but in that miniscule reprieve, I could see that my mother had done very well for herself in choosing this particular man to be her lover, even if he wasn't of our race. Take way his 50's style hairdo—Elvis Presley sideburns and all—and he was really quite a handsome man. Of course, after the hot and sweaty sexual shenanigans he and my mother had just been through, his high-rise pompadour was no longer perfectly coiffured. Maybe it was a wig; worn for whatever his part was in their sex games.

Black Stud's shiny, mahogany facial features were thin, rather than being Negro blunt, and his deep-set eyes were twinkling onyx orbs beneath groomed brows. His razor-sharp nose was a little bent, but not grotesquely crooked, and a precisely sculptured mustache and goatee surrounded a pair of lush, inviting lips. His jaw line came to a point—accentuated even more by the goatee—yet still had an authoritative set to it. There was also a youthful cast to his face; making him appear five, maybe as much as ten years younger than my mother.

Sleepy-eyed and inattentive in her after-sex stupor, Black Stud's initial comment clearly hadn't registered, but when he tapped her on the shoulder and added with a sly smile, "You could at least say hello to our company," my mother's head turned. Her sleepy eyes instantly went wide and terrified. Her head came up off the man's chest like a rebounding soccer ball. "Jen!" she keened and attempted to throw herself off the man.

The man quickly entwined his long black fingers in her ginger colored hair. "Don't even think of going there, Emma," he snapped, holding her in place by her hair. "You've seen me fuck probably a hundred white bitches since we've been together and others have watched us fuck plenty of times, so don't go gettin' all embarrassed and prudish about being caught with my big ol' black cock in your nasty white pussy."

His tone had been relaxed, even conversational, but my mother stopped squirming like a switch had been thrown inside her. "But," she a meekly protested, "it's Jen! It's… it's my daughter, for God's sake!"

"I know who she is, Emma," the man replied, "Her pictures are all over the house." He released my mother and I understood perfectly why she didn't even attempt to roll off him. I had a good ten foot head start, enough of a lead that I probably would have made it to the front door before he untangled himself from Mother and came after me, yet the command presence in the man's voice had me frozen in place like a mannequin… and I didn't even know him.

"Hi, Jen," the man said in a cheery voice. "I'm Victor… your stepfather."

That, figuratively, and then literally, kicked the legs right out from under me. What he… this complete stranger… this BLACK man had just said, especially that last word, staggered me. It was like I had been hit in the solar plexus; I couldn't breathe. My out-of-control mind whirled right along with the spinning room, searching for an answer; something… It didn't have to be a reasonable answer, or even a logical one, just anything I could latch on to that might at least resemble reality.

"Run!" The word exploded inside my head. "Get the hell out of here. You're in the wrong people's house stupid!" I had been driving since before sunup and it was now almost sunset. Tired and highway hypnotized, I had taken a wrong turn off somewhere. The street had looked like the right one, the house had looked like the one I had grown up in, but I was obviously on the wrong block… in the wrong town… maybe even in the wrong state. It was a stretch, sure, a big stretch, but it was the only thing that made any sort of sense at all. I tried to back away, but my feet got tangled and I wound up spraddle-legged on the bedroom floor.

The jar of my butt hitting the floor made the room stop spinning and the world came back into clearer focus. I wasn't in the wrong house. This was my mother's bedroom, all right. It seemed larger than I remembered it being—more open and airy—and the walls were painted a different color—stark white instead of pale rose, but the antique mirrored-dresser was definitely mother's. Family heirlooms you don't forget, especially when they've been promised to you one day.

I recognized the pictures on the wall—a few of them, anyway—but the bed was not the same one that had been in this room when I had left for college, not the warm and cozy, quilt-covered safe harbor I had snuck into as a scared little girl, afraid of the boogey man hiding in my closet. This bed was twice that one's size and there was no crazy quilt neatly folded across the foot of it.

And then, of course there was the bed's erotic (or pornographic?) tableau itself. I was already a having little difficulty recalling my dad's face clearly, but a child never forgets their mother's and the flushed face looking down at me was unmistakably that of my mother… lying naked on top of a younger, wiry-muscled, good looking, naked black man… whose big black cock was still buried in "my mother's" Caucasian pussy.

How was this… how could any of this be possible? We weren't a racist family. (Well, dad could be when he had a snoot full.) I had gone all through school with black kids, black families attended my mother's church, half of the police force and several of the town's firemen were black guys, a number of the teachers in all the schools were black. The very popular deputy mayor—the former principle of my high school—was black. One of my brother's few friends in high school had been a skinny black kid. But, by and large, this was pretty much a white bread and mayonnaise community, where the races didn't mix… at least not sexually… not on this side of the tracks, anyway.

This might be the home I had left ten months earlier, but was very definitely not the same household I had unwittingly stumbled into less than half an hour ago. Life, as I had always known it, had been turned inside out.

I took me several attempts, but I finally managed to put the words banging around inside my head into the form of a question; the one I wanted answered first and foremost. "You're my what?"

"Your stepfather," the man, who now had his arm protectively around my mother's shoulders, answered calmly. The color contrast—his black skin against my mother's white flesh—was stark, unnerving, yet it was also erotic, which was even more unnerving. You are not supposed to find anything even remotely erotic about your own mother. "Your mother and I have been married… What's it been, Emmy, six months now?"

My mother tittered. She actually tittered like a schoolgirl. "Going on seven, my big bad ape man."

"Seven of the happiest months of my life," Victor acknowledged affectionately. He bounced his black asscheeks on the bed, driving the couple of glistening black inches of his cock that had slipped out of my mother's soupy hole back up into his adoring white wife's cocked-stuffed cunt. "Most fulfilling seven months of your mother's life, too. Or, so I've been told… repeatedly."

My mother took one of his dark nipples between her thumb and forefinger and twisted. "I've been fucking and sucking your big black cock for over nine months, asshole." She quickly leaned down and kissed the tortured nipple all better. "And they have all been the happiest, most fantastic…" She ground her pussy down into his dark crotch. "And definitely the most fulfilling months I've ever known."

"Horny blackcock slut," Victor jibed.

"White-pussy-whipped black stud," my mother bantered back. She kissed his full dark lips—clearly slipping Victor a lot of tongue in the process—then turned and glowered at me. "How long were you standing in the door, young lady?"

"Long enough for her to have heard you begging me to shoot my hot Nigger jizz into your horny pink cunt would be my guess." Victor laughed. "Probably longer than that. And, from the bright red flush in her cheeks, I'd have to say she liked what she saw." He winked at me again. "Did you like what you watched, Jen? Was watching your mother fuck herself on my black cock what made the crotch of your white panties all wet?"

It was then that I realized that I hadn't peed my panties; I had cum watching them fuck. This was a mild relief, only because a mature young woman does not pee her panties like an un-potty-trained little girl. Understanding the why behind me cumming in my panties was more disconcerting. Had I actually orgasmed—rather profusely—watching my mother fuck herself on a big black cock… without even touching my pussy? This was a first for me, but one I definitely intended to explore further… after I had bidden Mom and my new stepfather goodnight and had closed—and securely locked—the door of my old bedroom behind me for the night.

Little did I realize that this new-found ability to cum untouched would be only the first of several more firsts I would experience before the sun came up again. And, after discovering some things about myself—that I never would have suspected when I had rolled out of bed in my dorm room that morning—I wasn't at all certain that the sun would rise in the East, as I had invariably done ever since the world began.

My mother—her cheek resting on Victor's black chest, smiled at me… smiled in a way she had never smiled at me before. "Did you really like watching us, Jen? Was it, like Victor said, seeing your mother getting the fucking of her life by a big black cock that made you cum in your panties?"

Before I could even think about what I should say, I answered her… truthfully. "Yes."

"May I see for myself?"

The lay-back way they were both acting, the non-pulsed manner in which Mom and Victor seemed to accept me being there with them—them bare-ass naked and me fully dressed, instead of putting me off actually put me a little more at ease, and wanting to at least appear as cavalier about this sticky situation as my mother and new stepfather were being, I lifted up the front of my skirt, then impulsively brought my knees up and bowed them wide apart. If Mom wanted to see my wet panties, the least I could do was provide her an unobstructed view and (unintentionally?) her black husband, too.

"You really did, Jenny… a lot!" For a second or two, I was afraid my mother was actually going to get up off her husband, come over and cop a feel of my sopping wet crotch. Instead, she nonchalantly asked, "Did you wish it was you riding on Victor's big ol' black cock?"

They already knew I had watched them and I now here I was, sitting there brazenly showing off my wet panties to my mother and her black husband… panties made very wet from watching my white mother and black stepfather fucking. What more did I have to risk? Certainly not my pride and from the heated rush I was getting at having my mother and stepfather both admiring the copious wetness of my panties, it sure as hell wasn't any modesty that I might have left. That was now in tatters on my mother's bedroom floor and, to be perfectly honest, I didn't miss losing that archaic hindrance to it free thinking. A writer is supposed to expand her vision of life around her, not stifle all, or even any, experiences that will allow her creativity to bloom. Well, I was expanding the shit out of any horizon limitations I might have ever knowingly, or unknowingly, placed on myself.

Again I answered my mother in the only way I could. "Yes."

"How about when Victor was pumping me full of his Nigger…

"Yes!," I admitted a husky rasp. "Mother, I… I wanted so bad to be you when he… when Victor was pumping all that hot jizz up inside you." I couldn't bring myself to say it the way she had. The word Nigger was not an everyday word in my vocabulary… yet.

My mother's eyebrow arched. "Really?" She patted the edge of the bed. "Come sit with us, Jenny."

I got to my feet, but hesitated taking that initial step. Victor grinned. "I promise I won't bite, Jenny."

Nobody… and I mean no one, not even my dumb-ass brother, called me Jenny. Only my mother. But, mysteriously, I didn't mind Victor calling me Jenny. I stepped over to the bed, but sat on the very edge. Victor, stepfather or not, was an imposing physical presence and I wanted as much of a head start as I could get if I decided I had to flee.

The smell of hot sex coming from both of them was overpowering and I felt a little more cum seep into my panties. It was one more mystery, piled on top of so many inexplicable things I had already witnessed, why the humid odor of sex—coming from my own mother and an unknown BLACK stepfather—seemed to make me feel a little safer.

My mother reached back and raked her crimson-painted fingernails lightly over Victor's cum-glazed balls. The sharp contrasts in the distinctively different colors—Mom's white hand, her red nails, and Victor's black ball sac—made for a wantonly wicked picture; one I knew my brother, even with his unquestionable talent and dynamic flare for color, couldn't possibly capture accurately… definitely not the libidinous essence of what his once "normal" white mother was doing to a black man.

"You ever been this close to a black cock, Jen?" Mom asked in a throaty voice.

I couldn't pull my eyes away from the lewd sight of her scratching her husband's black testicles. "N… no."

"Ever seen one… in the flesh?"

"No. Pictures, mostly… and in some streaming porn on the Internet."

"But, you're no stranger to real, flesh and blood cocks, are you?"

I shook my head. "No, mother, I haven't been a virgin since high school. But, it's only been with white boys, and none of them had…" I couldn't help myself, I was compelled to stare at where my mother and Victor were still coupled; her white legs and buttocks straddling his lithe black torso, his big black cock still encased by the feminine folds of her wet pink cunt, their joined crotches shimmering with the juices of their combined orgasms. "I've… I've never seen a dick as big as the one you get to enjoy, mother."

"Would you like to touch it?" she asked.

"Ohhh.. yesssss."

Mother took my hand in hers and placed it where the two of them were joined. I could feel the wet, lust-swollen lips of my mother's pussy pulsating. I felt the base of Victor's cock throbbing. My fingers became all slippery with the combined juices of their hot animal fucking. An uncontrollable shiver raced up my spine and the crotch of my already drenched panties got even wetter.

"Like what you're feeling down there, Jen?"

"Umm… humm."

"No, I mean do you like everything you're feeling, both sexes… at the same time?"

Up until that moment, I had never given any serious consideration to lesbian sex, but, here and now, with my mother and her black lover, it seemed almost… almost natural to be feeling both of them up; Victor's black cock—which, amazingly, felt like it was still hard—and my mother's gooey pussy. "Does Victor's dick feel as good inside you as it feels to me out here, Mother?'

"Better, Jenny," my mother cooed. "So much better, you can't believe how good unless you've tried it."

"Uh, can we three get something straight, right here and right now," Victor scolded. "You know better, Emma, but, Jenny, what you're playing finger tag with isn't a dick; it's a cock. A big black cock that demands respect. You got that?"

"Yes, Victor," I automatically replied. I cupped his balls in my hand and massaged them. "A big, beautiful black cock that deserves to be respectfully worshiped."

Why the hell had I said that… at least in that way? I had always been a young woman with a mind and a will of her own, and yet, here I was, responding almost slavishly to my mother's black lover. Was I possibly not as strong a person as I had always believed myself to be? Or, had watching the two of them fuck like rutting animals gotten me that fucking horny? In either case, playing finger tag in their sloppy genitals was exacerbating the confusing situation all to hell.

"Think she'd do it, Emmy?" I heard Victor whisper.

"Hard to say, Baby," my mother answered back. "But, what have we got to lose in finding out? She's already caught us fucking, and she hasn't pulled her hand away. In fact, she is doing some rather stimulating exploring down there with her fingers." She turned her head and asked in all seriousness, "Have you ever given a blowjob, Jen?"

That kind of startled me, but not enough to make me withdraw my more daringly exploring hand from their soupy genitals. "Yes, I've given head to several guys."

"How about licking a pussy? I've heard all about what goes on in those college dorm rooms."

That did it; this had started off utterly insane, had moved to progressively more outlandish, and was now bordering on way out of control. But, I just couldn't seem to make myself get up off the bed and indignantly storm out of the room. "No, mother," I answered in a voice that (given the present circumstances) sounded strangely calm in my ears, "regardless of what you've heard, your daughter has yet to lick one single pussy."