I sat in my room, the walls, and world around me now different. Her suggestion still lingered in my mind, the words nasty, and forbidden.

“I want you to...”

The words played over, and over, and over again.

There was no way I could say yes...

I sat with my phone in hand. I watched it like a hawk, wondering if my silence would help the moment pass, wondering if saying nothing would somehow wipe our collective memory of the entire thing, would save me from this taboo that grew stronger in my mind.

“Mijo?” My stepmother Clara peered through my bedroom door, her voice soft and curious, aware of the task I’d been offered.

I turned back with a slight hesitation. “I’m fine.” Just the look of her sent a cold chill through me. She had soft brown eyes, and a warm smile.

I stood up, and opened the door. I watched as her eyes met mine, as she flashed me a nervous smile, as my mother’s suggestion lingered in my mind, forcing my thoughts on her ample breasts, and slim waist.

“I’m fine.” I lied.

Clara nodded, then walked pass me. “Sure you are.” She sat down on my bed, and patted a seat beside her. “Sit.”

Clara had always known how to cut through the bullshit. It was in her blood, a no-nonsense approach to everything she did.

“Do we really have to do this no-“

“Come on, Mijo. Sit.” She patted the spot again, her chest jiggling lightly against the blue sequence of her halter, her eyes a smokey haze that drew me to her command.

I sat beside her, and immediately took in the strawberry in her hair. It was common, but now it felt wrong. Now it felt more sexual and taboo, as though a deep part of me had already accepted my mother’s words.

“I don’t want you to think less of us, okay?” She reached out her hand, and placed it on my thigh. She shifted herself closer, pressing the smooth olive of her leg up against my shorts. “We both thought this would be a good idea.”

I shifted my gaze from hers. It was too much. “We?”

She nodded, then grabbed my chin. “Look at me, Mijo.”

Everything felt wrong. The touch of her against me was electric, the way her finger moved my face, gentle and firm, the command of a woman who knew her stepson all too well.

“Yes... We.”

There was a part of me that was disgusted by her. Disgusted by my mother. Ready to throw it all away and leave this place entirely.

There was another part. The part that knew how beautiful they both were, one that acknowledged how lucky a man could be to have two beautiful, mature women asking for his seed.

It was a dream.

It was a nightmare.

I didn’t know whether I wanted to kiss her, or shout at her.

“Clara, I-”

“Oh...” She let go of my chin. “So I’m Clara now?”

“Sorry.” I dropped my head once more.

“Look at me, Mijo.”

I sighed, and did as she asked. “Mom. I’m- Why me?”

“Hmmm...” She smirked to herself. “Why you?” She stood up, took my hand, and called me to my feet.

I stood up, noting the sheer difference in our size, the way she craned her neck up to look at me, the deep admiration in her eyes, as she stared up at her only son.

She placed her hand against the string of my shorts. She pulled at it gently, keeping her eyes trained on mine as she did.

“We chose you because we love you.”

The string came undone.

“We chose you because you’re kind, and honest, and...”

Her hands went to my sides, and reached for my waistline.

“We choose you because, you’re our son.”

The weight of her hands slid my shorts down my thighs. I sat their startled, watching as the woman that raised me lowered to her knees, moving the fabric lower and lower, until it sat crumbled around my ankles.

“Because you’ll know how to treat us right.”

She pushed me back, and I fell onto the bed. She watched over me like a predator, her eyes hawkish slits, scanning over her prey.

“Just think about it, Mijo.” She mounted me slowly.  “Think about all the things you can learn.” She crawled on top of me, her breasts lined with my face, the scent of her now an exotic lure, trapping my mind in every inhale of her form.

“It isn’t wrong if we all want it, Mijo.” She lowered herself onto me fully, enveloping her breasts across my view, suffocating me in her flavour.

I couldn’t help but give in. I moved my arms around her, and pressed her deeper on top of me. I wanted this, to feel her body against mine, to feel the weight of her curves guide my path, to embrace them in the way my biological mother had so many times before.

I shifted my hips up, and ground my cock against the fabric of her bottoms. I didn’t know what overcame me, this weird spell, this violent spell that swirled every instinct of a son with the needs of a lover.

“That’s it...” She ground with my movements, our bodies intertwined in a loving dance, as each move led a slow trail against my length. “There’s nothing wrong with helping your mothers.” Her lips met mine in a dominant appraisal. She knew exactly what she wanted and she took it, stretching her soft tongue against mine, the force of her dragging me further into depravity.

“Tell me, Mijo.” She whispered into my mouth. “Tell me you’ll do this for us.”

Her words fell on deaf ears. I could only hear the flavour of her kiss, the weight of it bold, and impassioned, and obscene, corrupting my memories with each flick of her tongue.

Clara understood me in a way my biological mother didn’t. She knew how to get under my skin.

“Tell me, Mijo.”

She was rough, and demanding and seductive. She was the stereotype of Hispanic woman, sexy and sensual, and loving, her body like a fine art, and her control of it hypnotising.

She knew that I would follow her every request.

“Tell me you’ll give us your baby.”

There was nothing I could do. No way I could deny that warm taboo stretching across my cock, the hot warmth of her lips, the way her ass filled my palms, as I dragged her form against me.

Her grinding alone sent me over the edge. I felt it build and build, shattering my mind with the tune of her moans.

“Cum, Mijo!” She pushed herself up, and ground against my shorts. “If you can’t tell me, then show me now. Show me you’re ready for the real thing.”

I lay there, and watched as the woman who raised me, rode against my length. The pressure of her was like a raging storm, creaking the bed underneath us, making it clear and pronounced how dirty we could be.

“Do it! Do it!”

She wouldn’t stop.

She couldn’t.

“Show me you want it!”

The dirty sway of her form shattered my mind, forcing warm jets of cum out against my shorts, each one a rolling heat that stretched through me, as her warm sex dragged against me, as she ground out her own orgasm, as the dry humping sent us both to a place we’d never been, our shorts soiled as the wetness mixed together in a broken test of what was to come.

Her hips slowed to a halt, as she mumbled to herself in Spanish. She bit her lip, watching over me with a satisfied glee in her eyes. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

The cool summer air spread across the manicured grass. Mom moved in with her usual blissfulness, barefoot, her toes sinking into the grass as she hummed, and hung laundry.

“Hand me that jumper please, sweetie.”

“Sure.”

It had been a day since I’d confirmed my choice. Neither Mom nor Clara had said anything, instead going about our day as usual, Mom doing chores as Clara was at work.

There was a part of me that expected this. My mother wasn’t a confrontational person. She was a soft, blonde angel, someone who was quiet and submissive, a woman who never cursed, and barely raised her voice.

On days off, I followed her around and helped her.

Today was no exception.

“I don’t think it’s in here.” I said, scouring through the clothes.

“Really?” Mom moved the shirts that blocked our view, and strolled over to me. “I could have sworn I washed it.” She knelt beside me, her long blonde mane sparkling beneath the sun, her sun-dress sinking beneath her cleavage as though trying to show me more of her milk white skin.

There was a strange temptation, as she knelt next to me. It wanted nothing more than to push her flat on the grass, and pump my seed right into her. “You sure you washed it, remember last time when you left it by the counter?”

“Shit.” She put her hand over her mouth. “Sorry.”

I chuckled. “Your allowed to curse mom.”

She shook her head, then stood to her feet. “It’s bad manners, sweetie.”

I followed her, carrying the hamper. “What? We’re going to fuck at some point rig-“

“Richie!” Her cheek’s turned a deep red. “Don’t say that. This is a very serious thing we’re doing, and it’ll be over if you make a game out of it.”

“Alright...” There was a sudden shift in the air. “I was just- I thought things would be more casual between us.”

She pressed her hand against my cheek, and smiled. “It will be...” She leaned in, giving me a quick taste of her lips. “That doesn’t mean we forget who we are, okay?” There was a deep love in her eyes, a firm gentleness only a mother could possess.

“Okay...”

Her smile grew into a wide grin. Our lips met again, this time with a sensual her, as she moaned deep into my mouth. “Please...” She pulled back. “Please don’t make me regret this. I wanted you involved, but there are other methods if you’re not going to take this seriously.”

“I will. I promise.”

“Okay.” She took the hamper from my grasp, and placed it on the grass. She stepped back. “Clara told me what happened last night...”

I stood there silent, confused on whether it was good or bad.

Mom trailed her hands up her form, and stopped at the straps of her dress. “You know, we’re both very proud of you.” She slipped the left strap down her shoulder. She did the same with the right, this time doing it slow enough to keep my focus. “She told me you were really excited about this whole thing.”

I nodded.

“Good.” The weight of the fabric slipped down her milky complexion. She looked like a goddess in the light, her pink nipples erect, atop the firm swell of her breasts. “Don’t tell Clara about this. She wanted us to share this moment together.”

There wasn’t a single thought that passed through my mind. I gulped like a fool, then nodded, then nodded again. I watched her amazed, my eyes scanning the slight curves of her waist, the way her complexion flowed in one single tone across her tight form, as small tufts of her grace her mound.

“You like?” Mom said, her sundress crumpled around her feet. She stepped out of it with a determined strut, her toned legs carrying her appeal.