I was roused from my sleep by a banging on the door. "Alfred, come on down! Breakfast is ready." I heard my mom call from the hallway.
I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and put my feet on the floor. "I'll be right down," I mumbled out. Through the door I heard heels clicking on the hardwood floor. That must have satisfied her. I looked at the clock on my nightstand. Almost quarter past seven. I normally get up at six o'clock sharp. I must have forgotten to set my alarm last night.
I got up out of bed and went to the bathroom, still dressed in my pyjamas. All I had time for was a quick shave and putting on deodorant. The full morning routine would have to wait if Mom and Emma had already made breakfast. At least with the teachers having meetings all day I didn't have school.
I went downstairs and headed to the kitchen. Mom was standing at the stove, back to me. Her raven black braid hung over her left shoulder. Through the slit of her tan knee-length pencil skirt I could see that she was wearing opaque black tights, thick ones that didn't become any less opaque on her thighs. Her feed were shod in shiny black pumps complete with stiletto heels around four inches high.
Mom put a pancake on a plate and walked over to the kitchen table, heels clicking on the tiling. She put the plate on the table and looked at me. She smiled, pretty round face beaming with delight. "Happy birthday, darling." She said.
I went over to her and gave her a hug, feeling the white silk of her blouse. It felt great. She returned the hug and kissed me on the cheek. "Thanks Mom," I told her.
Mom sat down, rolling down the sleeves of her blouse and covering as much of her pale ivory skin as she could. "Emma had to get something ready for school. She said it won't take long." I nodded and poured myself a cup of coffee.
After a minute, I heard a clopping sound outside the kitchen. I turned my head and saw Emma striding towards us. The clopping was caused by the block heels on the ankle boots she was wearing, around the same height as Mom's.
Like with Mom, I glanced at her legs, also sheathed in opaque black tights. Mom and Emma had entire dressers filled with tights, and there was almost always a pair or several hanging in the bathroom drying. It was understandable, they never wore pants or wore skirts with bare legs, even in summer.
Emma smiled. "Happy birthday, Alfy." She said, spreading her arms wide. I hugged her as well. I loved her, but I also loved the feeling of the sleek black turtleneck she was wearing. It was made from very fine material, cashmere I thought, marvellously soft to the touch.
We broke off the hug and went to the table. I took notice of how Emma's flared midi skirt swished and swayed as she moved. It was black, like the rest of her outfit, but covered with vine and rose patterns. She and Mom were classy dressers. Not like the girls at school, or even most of the teachers.
Emma looked like a younger version of Mom. The differences were that her hair was glossier and tied into a ponytail, and she wore thick aviator glasses that framed her face wonderfully and made her beauty stand out even more.
We both sat down. "Sorry about that. I almost forgot about a due date for an assignment." Emma said, bringing up her skirt as she sat.
"Don't worry about it," I told her. "Right now school needs to be first priority for both of us." With that, we began to eat. The breakfast was great. Pancakes with homemade whipped cream and maple syrup, scrambled eggs, and a freshly-made fruit salad. We don't normally go through this much effort for breakfast, but today was special. My eighteenth birthday.
"What do you two have planned for today?" Mom asked as she cut up a pancake.
"I've got an exam at nine thirty, and when that's done I have a gymnastics class." Emma said as she picked at her fruit salad.
"And what about you, Alfred?"
"I told you yesterday," I said with some annoyance. "The faculty are having meetings all day. No classes. They gave us some homework, but that'll take an afternoon at most. I'm staying here since I have nothing else going on."
Mom nodded. "I'm okay with you spending the day at home. As for me, I'm going to try and get the afternoon off. My department has been performing excellently and the policy is that we get either the morning or afternoon off if it's a special occasion." She smiled. "And I want to spend as much of your birthday with you as possible, Alfred. I don't want to waste this day writing emails and nonsense office reports."
"So Alfy," Emma said. "You're eighteen now, a man in legal terms. Do you have any plans on getting a girlfriend anytime soon?"
"Not particularly," I replied, making sure to give my voice an edge. "Why, worried I'm going to start spending less time with you?"
"No, Alfy, it's just-" Emma set her fork down. "I know this will sound weird coming from your sister, but you're really quite handsome. The fact that you're, well, still a virgin at eighteen just doesn't add up. I'm sure you could have your pick of any girl at school."
"You're two years older than me and I've never seen you with a boyfriend," I responded.
Emma shrugged. "Just haven't found the right guy yet," she said noncommittally. Uh-huh, sure. She was a unicorn-a young lady gorgeous enough to walk on runways in New York, Paris or Milan, who had never dated. As far as I knew, she was still a virgin as well.
Truth was, Emma was also deeply introverted. She only had a couple of friends, neither of whom were particularly close, and she spent all her spare time either on schoolwork, reading, watching anime, or doing something or other with Mom. Maybe she was asexual, although I doubted that.
"I think it's a fair question, Alfred." Mom said as she picked at her eggs. "Men these days have a hard time finding romantic partners. You'd have an easy time of it, at least in the short time. You should take advantage of it."
I shot Mom a glare. Instantly she looked down at her plate. Mom hadn't dated in over a year. Since Dad was killed. Sure, it had been horrific-getting gunned down outside your office isn't as nice as dying in your bed of old age-but she had to move on at some point. And as attractive as she was-she was forty-four but looked thirty-she must have had suitors approach her.
I didn't want to tell them what I really thought. The reality was that I had no interest in the sluts at school. All of them, even the ugly or fat ones, were promiscuous beyond belief and had a different dick in them every weekend. I had zero interest in dating someone like that.
The really fucked up thing, which I didn't want ANYONE to know, was that my mother and sister were my point of comparison. I've said this a lot, but they really are very beautiful. Heavenly, even. And they dressed well too. Always wearing skirts or dresses with tights and high heels, even when it was unnecessary or impractical.
They didn't flaunt their tits and asses either. The skirts were always at least knee-length, and their tops were always long-sleeved with high necklines, or buttoned up. They were elegant and feminine women. Not like the girls at school, or even some of the younger teachers, who always seemed to push the boundaries on what was acceptable to wear in public.
Hell, they had lovely personalities too. They had always treated me kindly, never cruelly or capriciously. Lots of my friends have been mistreated and bullied by their moms and sisters. They've outright told me that they're jealous of how kind Emma and Mom are.
If I was to have a girlfriend, I wanted someone like them. Nobody says that, though. You don't want to say you use your mother and sister as the baseline for a girlfriend. You just don't.
We finished eating not long after. I picked up my plate, only for Mom to slap my hand. "Please don't bother, sweetie. We can clean up without you."
I raised an eyebrow. "You sure, Mom?"
She nodded her head. "Of course. It's your birthday, and you have today off besides. I want you to enjoy yourself. Please, honey, do it for me."
I put my plate back down, got up and went back upstairs. As much as I wanted to kick back and relax, I needed to get my homework done. That way I'd have the rest of the day, not to mention the weekend, to do as I pleased.
Not long after I got to doing my homework I heard the front door open and close. It happened again twenty minutes later. Mom and Emma were gone. I had free reign of the house until they returned.
I spent the rest of the morning on the homework. Most of it was pretty easy, but I had a history essay due on Monday, and that one required a lot of research. Around eleven-thirty, I shut my computer off and headed downstairs to make lunch.
At seven past twelve I had eaten and cleaned up. I sniffed my armpit. It reaked. Normally I shower after waking up, but since I had forgot to set my alarm I didn't have the time for a proper morning routine. Besides, I was still wearing the same grey t-shirt and sweatpants I had worn to bed last night. I needed to put some proper clothes on.
I went back upstairs and entered the washroom. I took my pyjamas off and hung them up on the door hanger. Turning towards the shower I noticed a couple of towel racks. One was where we actually kept our towels, but the other had a bunch of tights which had been carefully folded. There must have been at least two dozen pairs, in several different colours.
Some were in dull professional colours-black, brown, beige, grey, navy blue-that must have been Mom's. Others were in more vibrant colours-purple, red, green, burgundy, magenta, white-or patterns. Emma's, no doubt. She liked wearing a different colour every day, saying that Mom's palette is boring. I didn't blame her. She looked good in bright as well as dark colours.
I gently clutched one pair and began rubbing it. The tights were so soft and pleasant to feel. Mom's silk blouse didn't feel as silky as these. Whenever I hear the topic of hosiery getting brought up at school the girls always complain that they're scratchy and uncomfortable. They were idiots.
Honestly, I kind of wanted to try them on. Emma is skinnier than me, but Mom has kind of similar proportions, at least in the legs, and more than once I had entertained the thought of trying on a pair myself. After all, boy's and men's clothing never gets this soft.
I never had. At least since I was around six or seven. I stole a pair of Emma's from her bedroom. They were ruined completely just from putting them on, and everyone was pissed. And since Mom only bought tights from the best brands I didn't get any allowance for nearly two months. That had stung.
Besides, I know that women have completely different anatomy. I didn't know how I'd fit my ballsack and dick in there. And it would have been completely unhygienic as well. Best to leave it alone, as much as I wanted to.
I entered the shower and turned the water on, making sure it was steaming hot. It was fall, and today was unusually cold, practically winter. I spent a few minutes both shampooing and conditioning my hair, then spent more time washing my body carefully. After nearly ten minutes I turned the water off and stepped out of the shower, drying myself off.
Before putting my clothes back on I noticed one particular pair of tights on the wall. This pair was black, like what Mom and Emma had both worn this morning. More unusually, they didn't have a crotch. I didn't know if they had come like that, or if they had been cut out.
It hit me, then and there. I could try them on with the room for my privates to breath. Sure, as a kid I had ruined Emma's tights by pulling them on like a pair of pants, but I knew better now. When you've lived your whole life with two women who wear tights daily, you pick up a few things.
I grabbed the tights and pulled them off the towel rack, then sat down on the toilet. I held the tights out in front of me by the waistband and rolled them up until I could see the inside of the toes. Then I slipped my feet in and rolled the tights up to my knees, stood up and continued rolling them until the tights came up to my waist.
After making a few adjustments the tights felt snug, in a comfy way. I turned to the mirror and looked myself over. The fabric was perfectly opaque, and my man bits were hanging loose with no discomfort.
If the tights were nice just to touch, they were divine to actually wear. The only comparable thing I wore regularly were compression shorts, and they weren't anywhere in the same league. Not even the same planet. No wonder why Mom and Emma wore them every day.
I placed my hands on my hips and ran them up and down, gasping as I did so. Now that they had some kind of structure behind them the tights were even nicer to touch. They were perfectly smooth, which enhanced the soft silkiness.
As my palms went along my nylon-sheathed legs, I felt blood rush and my cock stiffen. The feeling was sexy. Sexier than anything else I've ever experienced. Looking at myself in the mirror I also realized that the dark fabric provided definition to my legs, as well as making them look thinner. If I had been a woman wearing high heels, it would have made my legs look a thousand times better.
Shifting around, I felt my thighs rub together, and heard the material rasp. That felt even better! The silken nylon against silken nylon with my bare flesh underneath was so intensely pleasurable. My hard-on got even harder, curving upwards.
As I rubbed my nyloned legs together, I grasped the shaft of my erection and began stroking. I sped up and slowing down as needed, since I wanted this to last. Over the course of about ten minutes I felt the pressure build up. I sped up with no intention of slowing down. I would reach climax soon.
Or at least that's what I thought. I could feel the pressure to release my cum and let it shoot out all over the bathroom, but no matter how hard I stroked, I couldn't release.
After about fifteen more minutes of trying to get off, I stopped. I was just getting my dick sore. Besides, Mom or Emma would be returning home soon and I didn't want to explain this to them. I put my hands on the waistband, intending to put my thumbs inside and roll the tights off.
Only I couldn't. I looked down, grabbed the waistband with both hands, and yanked down. The tights stayed perfectly still. It was like someone had glued them to my skin. Did Mom or Emma do that in some kind of fucked up prank?
No, they've always been kind and gentle, and any discipline Mom delivered to me was straightforward. Besides, they took pride in wearing only the best clothing available. They wouldn't just ruin a pair of expensive tights like that.
I turned to the door. If I couldn't get them off the normal way, I'd cut them off with the scissors in my room. Then throw them in the trash. Stuff got mixed up or lost in the laundry all the time, a single pair of tights wouldn't cause much fuss.
But I couldn't move. I looked down at my legs again. My feet were perfectly still, even though I was willing them to walk. I closed my eyes and concentrated, bringing up all my reserves of strength. Still, I wasn't moving, like my legs had been turned to stone. What the fuck was going on?
Then I felt something envelop my right hand. Turning my head, I saw it was another pair of tights, navy blue. The waistband had gone over my wrist, and inched it's way up to my shoulder until my arm was fully covered, like a glove, and one leg dangled loose.
Another pair, charcoal grey, came off the rack and floated over to my left side, covering my other arm the same way. The rest of the tights on the rack flew off and wrapped themselves around my body, binding my arms to my sides.
Finally, a pair of red tights floated right in front of my face. The panty section balled up and put itself right into my mouth. The legs went around my neck, and I felt them tie into a knot at the nape of my neck.
My whole body, other then my head, neck and crotch, was now enveloped in opaque nylon. Honestly, if I had done it myself, it would have been sexy. But with my inability to move, much less the fact that the tights had done this on their own somehow, it was just terrifying.
And then, my legs started moving. Against my will, I walked up to the door, and the leg dangling from my right side reached out. The foot wrapped itself around the handle, turned it, and opened the door. I stepped out into the hallway, despite doing using all my strength to resist.
Then I turned right, towards the master bedroom. Mom's bedroom. The loose leg again opened the door, and I walked right into the bedroom against my will. I went over to Mom's bed, a massive thing big enough for three or even four people, and sat down on the edge.
My legs swung up onto the bed, and I laid down in the centre of the mattress, a pillow under my head. I felt the tights wrapped around me loosen, and my arms brought up. Looking to the right, I saw the loose leg stretch out to the headboard, wrapping itself around the frame and tying itself into a knot. Turning to the left I saw the same happen with my left arm.
I was tied to the bed, completely helpless and cock still erect. The only things I could do was move my head, close my eyes, and let out muffled sounds. The clock on Mom's nightstand read 12:57. Either her or Emma would be home any minute now. What was I going to tell them? That their tights put themselves on me and made me enter Mom's bedroom, hard as a rock? The only silver lining was that the curtains were shut.
I thought if there was any way out of this. Maybe if Emma caught me first I could get her to help me. I'd owe her a favour-multiple favours-but it would be better than getting kicked out. Or arrested.
And then things got even worse. Downstairs I heard the front door open and close shut, and high heels on hardwood flooring, clicking and clopping. Fuck! I should have realized that Mom would pick Emma up.
The clicking and clopping got louder. They were coming upstairs. I prayed to whatever god may have been listening that Mom was just going to the bathroom, and Emma would go to her room. It was my last hope, however thin.
That was promptly dashed when the doorknob turned and the door swung open. Mom, now wearing a blazer matching her skirt, walked right in front of the bed. She was smiling smugly, and put her hands on her hips. "Well well well, what have we here?" She said, with a tone that implied she knew exactly what was going on.
Emma entered the room and walked beside Mom. She looked down at my exposed and still erect cock. "It looks like you have a degenerate for a son, Mother." She said, grinning wickedly.
Mom looked down at my legs. "Ah, I washed those just last night. I decided to leave them hanging since I had no immediate use for them." She tut-tutted mockingly. "It seems like my perverted little boy took advantage of my negligence and decided to have some fun while at home by himself."
Emma gasped theatrically. "And look at that thing of his," she said in a faux-dramatic tone. "He's been beating it raw. Probably since we both left. And if he's in here, he's probably been doing it into your underwear. Maybe mine as well." She looked at me with a cool expression. "You haven't been using our lingerie as masturbation aids, have you Alfy?"
Mom put a hand to her forehead as though she was shocked. "And to think I believed you've always been such a well-behaved boy, too. Now we have to worry about cum stains on our clothes, runs and holes in our tights. You do know how expensive they are, don't you?" I did. The cheapest pair cost at least as much as one week's allowance.
Emma put a hand under her chin. "It's not like he needs to, either. You're a handsome man, Alfy. The girls at school must fall head over heels for you. You could be banging a dozen cheerleaders at once if you wanted. Why would you do this to your poor mother and sister?"
Mom walked over to Emma, and did something shocking. She kissed Emma right on the lips, briefly but lovingly. "Come now, dear. You went to the same school. You know none of the skanks there could compare to you. You're beautiful. Divinely so. And so well-dressed too. Most girls your age have such tacky attire. All jeans and leggings and sneakers. No class or femininity at all."
Emma put a hand on Mom's cheek and returned the kiss. "And you're so lovely too, Mother. You look like you're still thirty. And you dress like the woman you are. Most professional women wear nothing but pant suits and flat nowadays. Even when they do wear skirts and dresses they're always barelegged, even if it's freezing cold out. Perhaps we shouldn't be surprised. I doubt there's anyone in this world who compares."
Mom turned to me, eyes glowing softly. "Which brings up a question. Alfred, is that what you want? Do you want to make love with your mother and sister, your own flesh and blood? Is that why you're still a virgin at your age, why you stroke your cock while wearing our tights?" Suddenly the tights gagging my mouth moved down.
"Y-yeah, I do." I stammered out. I didn't want to, but I did anyway. "I want to rip your tights open and stick my cock inside both of you. I want you to wrap your silken legs around me. I want to hear you moan and scream while I plunge in and out. I want to shoot my load into you while you squirt and gush. I want to feel the pleasure no other woman could ever give me, while giving you that pleasure tenfold."
Now I was sweating profusely. Saying it, especially like that, was stupid and vile, but it was the truth. And now my mother and sister knew it. There was nothing to prevent them from using it against me.
Mom walked over to the right side of the bed, and knelt over me. Then she kissed me for several seconds. As she broke off the kiss she looked at me, smiling warmly and with desire burning in her eyes. "See, that wasn't so hard, was it?" She brought up a foot, placing the heel on the rear of my cock. "Don't be so frightened, my love. We just wanted to know the truth."
Emma crossed her feet at the ankles and grasped her skirt. "What do you think we should do, Mother? Chastise him? Discipline him? Make him work it off?"
Mom put her foot back on the floor. "Nothing of the sort. We don't want to hurt him, dear." She walked over to Emma. "Boys his age have needs to satisfy. If we help him, it will ensure that this won't ever happen again."
Emma smiled. The desire was in her eyes now too. "Yes, I see now. If we help my baby brother sate his appetite, then he won't be destroying our tights." She giggled. "Besides, women have their own urges to fulfill. This way is as good as any. Actually, it might even be better."
I wanted to say something, anything to protest, but before the words could come out my mouth was gagged again. Mom placed a finger on her lips. "No need to say anything, sweetheart. Mother and sister are going to do everything to satisfy you. Your words are not needed."
Emma clutched her skirt and pulled the hem up to her hips, making the gusset of her tights visible. "Unfortunately, I'm dry as a desert right now. Can you help me get in the mood, Mother?"
Mom put a hand on Emma's thigh and began rubbing with the tip of her finger. "Of course, dear. Anything for my beloved children." Emma closed her eyes and sighed contentedly, then rubbed her calves against Mom's.
Mom gasped. She then kissed Emma briefly again. Emma returned the kiss, longer this time. Mom started to rub Emma's thighs with her palms now, and the two made out. They kissed, played with each other's tongues, rubbed their calves together.
Then Mom unbuttoned her blazer and took it off, dropping it on the ground behind her. She unzipped her skirt and let it fall to the floor, kicking it to the side, and opened up her blouse, revealing a white satin bra.
Mom put a fingernail to Emma's gusset, hooking it into the fabric. Then she slowly brought the nail down and tore a hole, exposing Emma's vagina. Emma wasn't wearing any panties underneath her tights. Her opening was fully exposed, clitoris poking through the hood and glistening with wetness.
Mom took off her blouse and threw it away. Then she put the index and middle fingers of her right hand into Emma's pussy, rubbing the clit with the meaty part of her palm. Emma closed her eyes and gasped. She let go of her skirt, letting it fall down over Mom's arm. Then she reached up and undid Mom's bra, exposing Mom's breasts and hardened nipples.
For the next few minutes Mom fingered Emma. She pumped in and out with precision, rubbed the clit with circular motions. Emma stood there, eyes closed, moaning with contentment. "Oh yes," she said in a stage whisper. "You know me better than myself, Mother. No one has ever pleasured me as well as you."
Mom sped up her fingering of Emma, and replaced the slow circular movement with fast up and down motions. "OhhhAGGGHH!" Emma screamed out after about a minute of this. Her knees buckled and she almost fell down. The only reason she didn't was because she spread her feet apart for stability.
Mom pulled her hand away from Emma, fingers now damp. "That's enough of that for now," she said. "I can't have you get so excited that you hurt yourself." She walked over to the nightstand and pulled some tissues from a box, using them to wipe off her hand. "Besides, this is just to warm you up. You don't want to leave your poor brother blue-balled, do you?"
Emma grinned. "No, of course not. Alfy comes first right now." She grabbed her skirt and pulled it up, then put her knees on the foot of the bed. She clambered over and straddled me. "Although you'd better not cum first, baby brother. I want to be satisfied too." She said, giggling.
Emma removed the gag from my mouth and gave me a kiss, a long one. She swiftly put the gag back in, went up, and slowly inserted the tip of my cock into her now moist cunt. I was still hard, and wanted to please myself more than ever. I admit it, watching my mother masturbate my sister had been hot.
Then Emma let her skirt fall down, the front covering my stomach. Under the skirt I felt her legs press together against mine. The tights she was wearing felt almost like velvet, and beneath I could feel how well toned her legs were.
I looked up at her. As I drew my eyes up I took note of her body. Emma had a slender body, wonderfully defined by the turtleneck she wore. Her breasts were fairly small, barely noticeable. All the better. I never liked big tits, they either meant you were fat or just looked wrong.
We matched gazes for just a moment. Emma's eyes were alight with love and lust. And despite how fucked up this whole scenario was, I was looking forward to it. After all, how many young guys get to have sex with their sister, let alone one so gorgeous?
Emma ground down on me. I felt my glans press against something spongy.. Suddenly I felt pleasure ripple through my body. I gasped, although through the gag it just came out as a murmur. Emma came back up a few inches, then back down. She did this very slowly, almost rhythmically.
As she rose up and came down Emma placed her palms on my chest, and began to caress me tenderly. "Oh yes, Alfy, you have such a nice body." She muttered. "Lean and fit, not like most men now." She closed her eyes and sighed affectionately. She started to go faster.
As Emma sped up, I felt the inside of her cunt get even wetter, covering my shaft with her fluids. I let out a wheeze through my gag, and felt my balls get heavy. I closed my eyes and willed myself not to let a big hot load just yet. This felt so, so good and I wanted it to last.
Although my eyes were shut, I could feel Emma pounding me. She would get faster for several seconds, then slow back down. She also kept rubbing our legs together. That made the whole experience even better, the velveteen smoothness of her tights contrasting with the silken softness of mine.
After a few minutes of this, I felt her gush and spurt all over my crotch. That made me open my eyes and look up at her. Emma was breathing in and out rapidly, like someone out of breath after a long run. Her head kept jerking to her sides, making her ponytail swing around. "Oh-ho, yes, that's it. I'm cumming. I'm cumming!" She started shouting.
As she kept bouncing up and down, I started to arch my back, holding myself back from bursting. It wouldn't be forever, but I could at least delay it for a while longer. Now, she was just getting faster and faster until she was practically a blur, and covering me with her own cum under the skirt.
Then her eyes came open, wide as plates, and she bared her teeth in a giant grin. She knelt down, bring her face just a couple inches from mine. "Yes, Alfy, you've made your big sis soooo happy!" She screamed. "Let everything go! Fill me up! Do it! Doitdoitdoitdoitdoit FUCKING DO IT!"
I was more than happy to oblige. I couldn't suppress it any longer. I let it all out in one big eruption, sending a wad of my cum right inside of my own sister's womb. Stupid as it was, I didn't care one whit that she could get pregnant. We could deal with that later if need be.
With my orgasm over, my dick went flaccid, still inside of her. As I went soft, Emma pulled the gag from my mouth, and gave me a kiss. She made out with me for what felt like a minute, sticking her tongue inside my mouth and flitting it around. At that moment I never loved her more.
After the makeout, Emma tipped over to my left and laid down on the bed, turning to face me. Her beautiful face radiated delight and love. "Was that good for you, Alfy? I'd hate to disappoint my baby brother, especially on his birthday."
I smiled. "Yeah. Yeah, Emma, I did. That was amazing. None of the girls at school could have done what you did. The way you restrained yourself, how your tights felt, it was, well, heavenly."
Emma glared at me, face twisting with rage and eyes full of anger. "Please, don't say that word, ever. It's not appropriate. That stuffy old tree up his rear excuse of a deity in Heaven would never allow something like this to happen. It's a realm of dull denial, meek worship, and constantly singing songs that are as tedious as they are obnoxious."
I raised an eyebrow. What on Earth was she talking about? I never believed in any religion, they all just seemed like excuses to either control weak-willed people or give answers to pointless questions. Then again, given everything that had happened in the past half hour or so, maybe she knew something I didn't.
Before I could ask what Emma meant, I felt something dab my crotch. I looked over. Mom was sitting on the edge of the bed, wiping my penis with tissues. "I'm just making sure you're clean, sweetie. I don't want us to get any infections." She efficiently cleaned up all the liquid on me, then scrunched the tissues into a ball and tossed it into a wastebasket.
Mom lifted herself onto the bed and brought herself over me, putting her hands on the mattress on both sides of my head. Her eyes were burning with desire the same way Emma's had. "It's my turn now," she said, barely able to keep the excitement from her voice.
She wanted to fuck me, too. Only I didn't know if I could. I was feeling sleepy, and even if I was fully awake I didn't know if I could get it up again. The orgasm Emma gave me had been so intense, I doubted I could even weakly masturbate for at least a week.
Mom brought her right hand in front of my face, palm facing her. Then she swiftly turned her wrist. In her hand was a small vial, filled with some pale red liquid. "Just a love potion, darling. Lust potion, really. To help you get past your refractory period. I know that men can't achieve orgasm twice so fast, so a little pick-me-up is in order." She took the cap off the vial and poured the liquid into my mouth.
In the position I was in, I couldn't spit the potion or whatever out, even if I wanted to. So I swallowed it. Instantly I felt my tiredness vanish, replaced with new energy and craving for sex. I felt my cock getting erect again, faster than it ever had been.
Mom smiled and half-closed her eyes. "Just as expected. Now let your mother give you what you want." Suddenly I felt the knot on the back of my neck untie itself, the tights falling off my chin and onto the floor. Then my arms came down to my sides. I looked to the right, then left. The legs had also untied themselves from the bedframe and dangled loose.
"I don't think those will be needed anymore," Mom said. "You've been so good, and have enjoyed yourself so much. I've never been one for tying my lovers up anyway." Then she pulled herself away, sat on top of me, and brought her heeled feet on either side of my head.
Without another word Mom gently squeezed my cock between her meaty nylon-clad thighs. I drew in a sharp breath. The sensation burned, but it was a good burn. It made me anticipate what was about to come.
Mom delicately drew her thighs up and down, back and forth. Occasionally I felt her tights come into contact with my glans. It burned even more, but felt even better. Although it paled in comparison to actually loving her, no doubt.
After several minutes of Mom slowly and deliberately stroking me, I felt the precum ooze out, making the fabric of her tights damp. Evidently satisfied, Mom knelt on top of me, the same way Emma had. She leaned forwards and put her groin to the shaft. It was dry. She was trying to get herself wet, like she did with Emma.
I looked up and down her, comparing her to Emma. Mom was far from obese or even overweight, but she was curvier, just enough to be attractively mature and matronly. Her breasts had undoubtedly grown from two pregnancies, but they were thankfully still around average.
Mom moved her hips with the same leisurely, almost lethargic pace as before. As she did so I could feel her clit poking through the thick cotton of the gusset. Sometimes it brushed against my glans, making me inhale in delight.
While Mom was frotting me, I felt the gusset slowly get moist. First it was the spot where her clit poked, then it covered the whole of the gusset, and finally seeped outside onto the inside of her thighs. She had pointed her head upward and closed her eyes, inhaling and exhaling slowly.
Precum continued to dribble out of my dick, and intermingled with her own cunt juices. Without thinking I grabbed my shaft with my right hand and started to beat off. Mom opened her eyes and looked at me, pursing her lips and looking at me like I just did something stupid.
She grabbed my wrist and flicked it to the side. "Stop that, Alfred. That potion wasn't exactly easy to make and you'll waste it like that. I want you to cum in me, not on me."
"Sorry," I mumbled as I looked away from her. "Just thought it would help, is all"
Mom rolled her eyes and groaned, but didn't say another word. She drew away from me, and brought her hands to her gusset. She tore a hole, just big enough for my cock to fit into. Like Emma, she wasn't wearing any panties under her tights. Unlike Emma, she was completely unshaven. The only thing I could see under the tangled bush was her clit poking through it's hood.
Mom clasped my legs between hers, as tightly as she could. Then she slid her now soaking wet cunt onto my shaft, until I could feel her G-spot. She was a little deeper than Emma, but I felt the inside firmly tighten itself around me. I grunted. I had gotten to fuck my sister, and now I was doing the same with my mother. What a lucky boy I was.
While Emma had been happy to pump up and down, Mom instead shimmied side to side. At no point did I feel her G-spot break away. And unlike Emma, I could feel Mom start to cum immediately. It wasn't much, but she was definitely doing it.
Again, without thinking, I put my hands on Mom's ass, savouring the sensation of nylon against nylon. Instead of berating me, Mom smiled. "That's much better, love." She said. She continued to shimmy, going ever so slightly faster. Looking down I could see her cunt dripping, right onto me.
As she gyrated and bandied about, Mom pinched the nipple of her left tit with her thumb and forefinger, and started to play with it. That gave me an idea. I took my hands off her ass and grabbed her breasts, covering them with my nylon-encased palms.
Mom gasped in delight. "Oh yes, that's it, my love. Play with Mommy's titties, make her happy." Her movements got faster, and the dripping became a stream. Even the fabric of my tights was getting wet now. "The tights, they're so sexy. Nothing in any world can compare to the feeling of tights on your flesh."
I couldn't disagree. They were so soft, and smooth, and snug, and feminine. And they made legs look even better than they already did. I thought that women only wore them for warmth, or modesty. But Mom and Emma wore them to obtain sexual pleasure. And now they were sharing that with me.
Even better, they were my own flesh and blood. I was committing incest, perhaps the only universally held societal taboo. And while initially I had been horrified, now I was doing it with gusto. It made everything so much hotter. Even if I had been fucking an actual supermodel, it never could have compared to the thrill of lovemaking with kin.
We spent several minutes like this, Mom moving her hips back and forth while cumming on me, and me playing with her breasts. She groaned, moaned, wheezed, panted, heaved, every possible sound you could describe, all with the ecstasy of someone who knew she was doing something deeply forbidden yet undeniably pleasurable.
Before long I started bucking up and down. It wasn't entirely voluntary, but it prevented me from releasing my load. And while it wasn't too forceful at first, eventually I started to send Mom up a few inches with every buck.
After what felt like an eternity of this, eventually I bucked so hard that I sent Mom flying. Her eyes widened with shock, and she fell down to my right, onto her back. As big as the bed was, she stayed on it instead of crashing down on the floor. Before she could say or do anything, I went right on top of her, sticking my still diamond-hard cock back into her.
Mom didn't protest. She wrapped her legs around my back, letting me penetrate her further. I shifted around until I found her G-spot again. Before I started fucking her again, I kissed her full on the lips. "I love you, Mom. I want us to do this forever."
Mom smiled. If her eyes just burned with lust before, now they were an inferno. "I love you too, Alfred. And I want us to become lovers not just in this life, but the next, and in the new world that will exist one day." She put a hand on the back of my head and brought it beside hers. "Now do what every filthy degenerate boy dreams about. Become your mother's perfect lover."
I obliged her. I drew out, until only the tip of my cock stayed inside of her, then thrust back in as hard as I could. I heard Mom squeal, pain and pleasure mixing and becoming indistinguishable. I did it again, and again, and again. Every time Mom yelped, and I felt her squirt on the bed.
As I pummelled her with my cock, Mom started to rub her thighs along my torso. The sensation of the silky tights on her legs and my body chafing drove me mad with lust. My thrusts became shorter and sharper, my balls slapping against her.
More than that, I felt Mom jerking with every thrust. Luckily she didn't have enough strength to throw me off like I did to her, but it did hurt. I didn't care. I was completely overtaken with sexual frenzy. The only thing that mattered now was achieving climax.
After who knows how many minutes of relentlessly pumping in and out of her, Mom began speaking in a pained, almost panicked tone. "Finish it, Alfred! Give it all to me! Oh, yes, do what you've always wanted!" The stream had become a torrent, drenching both the bedsheets and the front of my thighs. "By the Lightbringer! My baby boy is making me CUUUUUUM!"
At long last, I was able to orgasm. I shot my load right inside of the divinely beautiful woman who had given me life. It wasn't a big fat wad, but instead a series of quick bursts. One, and two, and three, and four, and five. It must have been even more cum than what I had put into Emma, judging from what I felt pour out of her.
I felt my cock go flaccid, and I pulled out of Mom. Bringing my head back up I looked right at Mom. Her eyes were closed, and she was smiling with complete contentment. Slowly, she opened her eyes up and looked at me, eyes full of love. Before I could say anything she placed her palms on my cheeks and kissed me.
That led to another makeout session, longer than the one with Emma. We kissed, played with each other's tongues, licked lips. I never loved anyone more, not even Emma. At that moment, if I was going to marry anyone, it would be Mom.
"So how was it? Everything you could have ever hoped for?" Mom asked after several minutes.
"More than that." I answered. "That was amazing. Otherworldly. Thank you, Mom." I turned and laid down between her and Emma, turning my head back to face her. "Just one thing I want to ask. Was tying me to the bed really necessary? Honestly, I'd rather not do that again."
Mom looked at me, then up at the ceiling. "We just needed to establish who is in charge here. Sorry, my love, but it isn't you." She sat up on the edge of the bed and looked back at me. "No need to worry. We'll never do anything of the sort again. Provided you behave yourself, of course." She was quick to add the last part.
"So you did make the tights in the bathroom bind me and make me come in here," I said.
"Of course we did," Emma said. I turned to her. "We needed to get you in here somehow, and you weren't going to do it on your own."
"...How did you know I was going to put them on? When I was a kid and ruined those tights of yours, everyone was furious. That's why I never tried again until today, and only with a crotchless pair."
"We didn't know that, not until you did it." Mom said. "It was just a happy accident we took advantage of. If you hadn't, we would have come and gotten you when we returned."
"But, but how did you-?" I stammered out.
"Just some minor witchcraft," Emma interrupted. "First we hexed the pair you put on, to make you aroused by our tights, ensure you couldn't orgasm, and so that you couldn't remove them. Then we animated and controlled the others through our will. Nothing any novice with a year of training can't do."
I looked back and forth at both of them."You're witches," I said dumbly.
"Obviously," Mom said. "Nobody lacking knowledge of the True Arts could be capable of such things."
I breathed in. My fear was returning. "Does that mean that you-we-are going to Hell? That I need to sell my soul or whatever?"
"It means an eternity of forbidden pleasure, my love. Just so long as you follow the rules." She kicked up her right leg and pointed her foot forwards. "There's so much we can do for you. Things no mortal woman could ever even imagine. Making love is just the beginning."
I had so many more questions. I felt like I had only scratched the surface of this. But I was starting to nod off. I slapped myself in the face, trying to keep awake.
Mom grabbed my hand. "No need to do that to yourself, sweetheart. We understand that men get sleepy after sex." She stood up and turned to me. "Just have a nap. We still have your birthday party to prep for."
Emma put her feet on the floor and stood up. "That's right. As fun as this has all been, we've spent just a little too much time in here." She walked over to the door. "Cooking, baking, dressing for the occasion. It all takes time and we're running out." With that she opened the door and headed out of the room.
I laid my head on the pillow and closed my eyes. As I fell asleep I thought about the situation. I lived with two utterly ravishing women who had a fetish for tights, and they had shared that with me. No, not shared, blessed. And almost every moment of it had been wonderful. If going to Hell was the price to pay, so be it.