Description

Family Sex, by Jezebel Rose

I came home late and was happy to see both my daughters’ cars parked in the driveway. Anna was twenty, a college senior, and Sarah was twenty-four, in her last year of medical school. My wife, Annabelle, and I were almost empty nesters, and I do not like it one bit. Our son, Josh, was nineteen and still in high school, but next year he will be off to college somewhere, leaving us alone in a big rambling house.

I noticed Sarah’s bedroom was dark with the door ajar and assumed she was spending the night in Anna’s room, cuddling as they often did as little kids. They slept late the next morning. First, Sarah trotted to the bathroom and returned behind the closed door. Then, Anna did the same, chirping, “Hi, Daddy. Love ya!” before peeing with the door open. My baby girls were uninhibited in the loving nest I built with Annabelle.

Sarah was fair skinned, dark haired and green eyed with thick arched brows with a low hairline and an elegant, aristocratic nose. Anna was the short, pretty, extroverted, and athletic daughter, lighter haired and darker in complexion.

Around eleven o’clock, I was in the kitchen with Josh, checking out pictures from Friday night’s football game, when the door opened again. I felt a sharp pang in my stomach as a tanned young man wearing nothing but boxers crossed the hall and used the toilet. I got a better look at him when he walked back across the hall. He was well muscled with sculpted pecs and abs, sinewy arms, thighs, and calves. He was tanned with long silky hair and hooded Asian eyes. I saw the lump of his junk in the front of his shorts as he nodded a silent hello to Josh and me.

“What the hell is going on?” I shouted at Annabelle, who was retrieving eggs, bacon, and butter from the refrigerator.

My wife laughed uproariously. “What does it look like, silly?” She stooped to get a frying pan from one of the cabinets and placed it carefully on the marble countertop.

“Some guy slept with my daughters … The two of them?” I bemoaned. “That’s what it looks like.”

“His name’s Max,” Annabelle said. “He works with us. Do not embarrass the girls when they get up. They’re adults, you know.”

When Annabelle said this guy, Max, “works with us,” I knew she meant he assisted Annabelle’s sexual coaching and counseling retreats, once a month events, where the girls helped out as well. These retreats sometimes were staged at a hotel and other times at a venue. A more suspicious mind might wonder if these sexual retreats were really high-priced orgies with my daughters as call girls and my wife as the madam. Since this venture has increased our joint income exponentially and will easily help us pay for graduate school and med school for the young women, I have no complaint.

Annabelle cracked two eggs and dropped them into the hot pan, sizzling with oil, “In fact, Max identifies as gay … though he’s really bisexual.” After a pregnant pause, while stirring the frying eggs, she added, wiggling her butt, “Obviously!”

After holding his tongue, Josh spoke up. “So, Mom, can I bring home girls to sleep with me?”

Annabelle playfully rapped him on the head with her plastic spatula. “No, you’re too immature.”

He looked at me and I winked. We visited a nice establishment owned by an old cougar named Charlotte about a year ago and Josh confessed he came so hard it made him cry.

Anna, Sarah, and their guest took turns showering, getting dressed, and joined us at Annabelle’s breakfast banquet. Max sat between Sarah and Anna, directly diagonal from where Josh and I sat. I couldn’t help looking at this guy, who must have a level of sexual prowess to have handled my two lusty nymphs, as evidenced by their affectionately touching his hands and even pecking little kisses on his cheek. Both girls seemed happy and vibrant—I dare say, fulfilled.

Annabelle was friendly toward Max as well, laying her hand on his shoulder while serving him his plate of bacon, eggs, and a buttered bagel. Indeed, he presented as gay, talking in a high pitched tenor and using hand gestures more effeminate than masculine.

At one point, Sarah, wearing a loose fitting top, reached under her blouse and touched her left side bra cup. She grimaced and glanced at Max, who was watching her. She whispered, “Where you scratched me” and adjusted her bra. He mouthed “Sorry” and she lifted his hand to kiss it.

Images flashed in my imagination of Anna riding Max’s cock reverse-cowgirl with her titties twirling like pinwheels and Sarah smothering him like a praying mantis while humping his stalk with her plump lotus blossom. It was not hard to imagine the loving sisters sensually touching each other in the midst of it all.

Both my son, Josh, and I kept staring at Max, for much the same reason: wondering how such a gentle femme got to be so much of a stud. At the same time, Annabelle kept watching us. When we cleared the table after breakfast, Max announced he needed a ride home. Annabelle suggested Josh drive him and my son agreed, no doubt anxious to pump Max for seduction advice.

It was a Sunday, so no one had to go to work or school. Therefore, Annabelle declared “quality family time” and we sat and talked with our two model daughters, our pride and joys. We discussed everything except what I was thinking about: did the guy fuck both of my daughters, how many times did he fuck my daughters, and what did each girl do while the other one was getting it on with him?

Leave it to Annabelle to push the envelope. She assumed her commanding voice to tell the girls “Make sure you wash the sheets after your fun and games with Max.”

Sarah, our older girl was the more dutiful daughter, as the firstborn, always the honorary adult. Anna, not so much—she giggled and said, “Josh squirts his sheets every night and never does his own laundry.”

Annabelle wagged a finger at Anna, warning, “You better not be fooling around with your little brother, young lady.”

“That is so unfair!” Anna burst out crying. “I practiced on him a few times when we were in high school. That’s all…”

“He was in middle school,” Sarah jabbed her younger sibling.

“Why do you have to keep bringing it up?”

In the car on their way downtown, Max asked Josh, “Did you ever hook up with a guy?”

Josh shook his head, turning the wheel and slowing down in front of Max’s condominium.

Max slid over on the bench seat from the passenger side, put his arms around Josh, and breathed right in Josh’s face. “You want to give it a try?”

“I’m not gay,” Josh mumbled.

Max laughed, “You don’t have to be gay to have sex.” Then he kissed Josh on the lips. “Close your eyes and pretend I’m a girl sucking your cock.”

Josh said okay and closed his eyes while Max gently flicked his tongue over Josh’s lips, planted fleeting kisses on his chin and cheeks then pressed his lips to the boy’s mouth. Josh parted his lips and Max plunged his tongue into his mouth, simulating a fucking motion and spitting saliva all over Josh’s face. Max reached down and unhooked, unbuttoned, and unzipped the teenager’s belt, pants, and fly. Josh was nervously excited, visible shivering when his long young dong sprouted from his crotch. Max took hold of it with his both hands, massaging and pulling simultaneously while wrapping his lips around its swollen red tip. Josh came forth in a few seconds with Max vigorously masturbating the boy’s penis while sucking on it. Max kept sucking after the boy was spent, interrupting himself briefly to ask, “Like it?” Without opening his eyes, Josh said yes and Max resumed fellatio until he stiffened, hardened, and shot a second time. Max raised his head to give Josh a kiss and spewed a mouthful of his still warm semen in the kid’s mouth.

Josh spit it out. “Ew! Yuk!” Max laughed and started taking off his shirt and pants. Max’s dick looked like a little hot dog surrounded by a garnish of lettuce and a couple of walnuts. Josh felt Max’s powerful hand on the back of his neck and could hardly have resisted when Max pulled Josh’s head down to his crotch.

“Take it slow, Josh,” said Max as his penis slid between the boy’s moist lips. “Just like I did it to you … and your sisters do it to me … roll your tongue against my cock, squeeze it with your lips, then suck it … That’s right, move your head up and down. Good job, buddy!”

While Max was receiving Josh’s maiden blowjob, he inserted his forefinger and thumb into Josh’s tight little anus. A few spurts of cream hit the roof of Josh’s mouth and he gagged. Max pulled him off and told him, “Turn around and sit in my lap.” Then Josh wrapped his muscular arms around Josh’s waist as my son lowered his ass on Max’s hard rocket of a cock. Josh grunted and sank his teeth into Josh’s shoulder, drawing blood, as he reamed out the youngster’s asshole for a full two minutes. Josh yelled, screamed, bawled, and begged Max to stop.

When Max was done fucking Josh, he kissed him on the forehead and promised, “Next time, you can fuck me. Okay?”

“You better clean up this mess before your mother and father see it,” Max suggested.

Annabelle is probably the most beautiful and sexy fifty-four-year-old MILF on the planet. She is also brilliant and an aggressive tiger professionally. After the girls and Josh were gone for the evening, Annabelle and I found ourselves on the couch, watching a new episode of Mad Men and a vintage Sopranos rerun. We laughed about how three pregnancies, childbirth, and menopause had led to Annabelle peeing every time she laughed, coughed, or sneezed. Then she shifted her weight and pointed at a wet spot on the couch’s cushion. “See!” We laughed some more and I hugged her.

“Did you ever fuck this guy, Max?” I asked her without warning.

Surprised at the timing more than the question, Annabelle saddled up to me, put her head on my chest, and firmly grabbed the thing between my legs. “You know he works for me as a sex therapy surrogate.” She deftly freed my penis from my pants and pulled it out. “I trained him myself.” She started jerking me off, slowly at first and then quickening the pace. “Haven’t we always had an open relationship?”

In fact, we have been married twenty-five years and lived together for six years before that. We enjoyed threesomes and foursomes with friends and roommates from the beginning. Our love was not based on sex—or exclusive sex anyway. It was based on a deep spiritual connection. Nonetheless, I was anxious to get my wick in her mouth and start licking her glory hole at the same time. No woman alive tasted like Annabelle, a mix of salty, nutty, and musky. We twisted into position as a lusty two-headed dragon, Hermes and Aphrodite, mutually worshipping my hard cock and her hot cunt. I begged Annabelle not to wax or laser her pubes because I loved the thick black needles that shrouded her Venus.

There we were Annabelle and Jackson, going at it on the couch like a couple of teenagers. Annabelle blew me before taking my rod in her pretty pink pussy and lastly up her tiny butt hole. We called that a triple play. We ended up, both of us buck naked, and wrapped in each other’s arms on the couch, watching the final scene of the Sopranos episode.

Please purchase this story and support me as an author! Thank you! ~ Jezebel Rose

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