The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I know you want me to get straight to the sex, but that’s not what my story is really all about. Well, the sex part is really cool; at least it has been for me. It’s been years since it all started and I know none of my friends has as interesting a sex life as I do. But, that’s not my doing. My mom and my sister accidentally set that all in motion. And that’s really what this story’s all about.

I grew up in a great family. Mama and Dad loved each other a lot and had two kids, one of each. Dad was a big, strapping Irishman. He was stronger than a bull, but around Mama he was always as gentle as could be.

She wore the pants in the family. Not literally, mind you. Mama never raised her voice and was never mean with my sister Sara or me. But she had Dad wrapped around her little finger. Whatever Mama said went, but since they got along together so well, few outsiders could see it.

It was Mama’s magic that did it. Not the magic that every woman has when she wants to have a man do anything. Mama’s magic was real and went well beyond that.

In college Sara ran across girls that were into New Age stuff and paganism. On campus there was even one group that called themselves a coven. They played at being witches and dressed all in black or, even more rarely, all in white. Sara and I used to laugh at these girls when we were together and saw them. She and I had grown up with a real witch and knew the difference.

Dad always called Mama his pretty Sidhe witch. He used it as a term of affection and when I was a kid and didn’t know better I thought that’s all he meant. Mom came from old Irish blood, what she used to call Dark Irish. Older than the Celts, she said.

But these were newer days and her mother’s mother had come to America on the boat. Now Mom was a registered dietitian and she used her knowledge of herbs and remedies her mother taught her as easily as she used the science that she leaned in school.

It has its advantages, being the son of a Sidhe witch. No one was ever sick in our house. Mama watched over everyone’s diet and since the things she fixed for us to eat were always delicious, no one complained.

I grew up as big and strong as Dad. Maybe it was his genes or maybe it was Mom’s magic in the meats and sauces, but by the time I hit seventeen years old I was bigger and faster than almost anyone on the football team. I was a natural as a tight end, able to block with the big boys and still able to go out for passes too. I had what Coach called soft hands, which means I could catch the ball, and was big enough to run over defensive backs once I did.

And the girls thought I had soft hands, too. Mama raised me right and I never took advantage of the girls. But with size and gentleness and a certain amount of confidence instilled in me from home, I never lacked for girlfriends.

Mother ran that part of my live as closely as she did every other. She didn’t mind me having friends that were girls or even dating often. But, she always encouraged me never to get too serious with any one girl. She wanted me to finish school and have a real chance in life.

“Don’t let some cutie set her hooks in you too deeply, dear,” she would tell me. “You’re a real catch son, and there’ll be quite a few who try. You’re true love will come along one day but you’ve a few years to go until then. For now, enjoy yourself and don’t get too tied down.”

So as long as I kept my relationships with girls easy-going, I caught no grief at home. Mama knew when I became sexually active at fifteen. Mom knew everything. She even questioned and grilled me on what had happened and how it had made me feel. Mama was like that. She wanted to know it all. She was never critical or made me feel bad, except if she felt I had slighted the girl in some fashion.

“If you’re going to enjoy these girls,” she would say, “make sure they enjoy you too. The fun of sex son, is in the giving AND the receiving. Otherwise, you might as well be wanking off in your room.”

Mom could be quite blunt about such things, but it wasn’t as though it just came out of the blue. She was like that about everything. She had been all my life. So, it wasn’t as though we talked about sex all the time. But to Mom and to Dad, sex was as natural a part of my life as breathing or picking up my socks. She’d fuss at me if I left my clothes on the floor and she’d fuss if the girl I had petted with on a date didn’t have a wonderful time. To Mom, and through her to me, both were a natural part of growing up.

But even Sidhe magic can be overcome in certain situations. Dad was a construction foreman and always left home at the crack of dawn. At the end of my junior year, an eighteen-wheeler went out of control on the highway and my Dad’s truck was rolled over and crushed.

His great size and Mom’s diet, even the charms she had hanging from the rearview mirror, couldn’t save him. Mama told us that by the time the ambulance brought him to the hospital where she worked, even though his body lived on for one more day, his spirit was already gone. There was nothing that even her great love could do to save him.

“Death is as much a part of life as being born, kids,” she told us sadly. “Grieving is a part of life too. Your dad would want us to carry on, but I know you’ll miss him as much as I will.”

Which wasn’t really true. Sara and I loved Dad—for sure—and missed him. But, Mama missed him more.

At Dad’s funeral I noticed for the first time how small Mama was. She had always seemed to tower over me, even though I was well over six feet. As I hugged her at the gravesite and comforted her, I was shocked to see that she couldn’t even put her head on my shoulder.

It was the first time I’d ever seen Mama cry and not be in control. For a while after that, it was like the joy of life that Mama had always been filled with went away for a little while.

That’s really why and when things happened as they did.

By pulling together and rallying as a family we got through the spring and then the long summer. Mom was distracted and distant. It was obvious that she was hurting. So Sara, at fifteen, and I, at seventeen, pitched in even more and for the first time relied less on Mom and more on ourselves.

It was the worst summer of our lives, but things were starting to get back to normal by the end. Mama had started back to work after a month or so. When school started back up, I thought Sara and I would both be relieved to get on with life. I know I was.

But Sara was just starting high school and every freshman feels awkward and wants to fit in. Without Mama’s controlling presence in every phase of our lives, it was the first time Sara and I had really had to start something new on our own.

What turned our whole lives around was a case of freshman angst and a minor flare-up of teenage acne.

When I got home after football practice it was just Sara and I for almost two hours until Mom came home every evening. She was working late a lot those days, trying to help out her patients. My guess is that Mama felt bad about not being able to help Dad in the end and was doing everything she could to help people that were sick or injured at the hospital. Sara and I should have been old enough to take care of ourselves for a little while.

What neither Mama nor I considered at the time was that Sara was her mother’s daughter as much as I had been Dad’s son. While Mama had never actively set out to train Sara in her ways, the Sidhe magic had been passed down from mother to daughter since before recorded time.

With me, Mama had talked about school and girls. With Sara, she had talked about plants and medicines and charms and such. I don’t pretend to understand it. That’s woman’s business.

For me, that year in football was all about letting out the tension. When I got mad about what had happened, I was able to let it out on the football field. My senior year, I was the best blocker in the game. When I was able to talk to Mom about it, she said that it was OK as long as I stayed in control. Better to hit a big defensive lineman in pads than someone else, she would say.

So I’d come home exhausted and grab a sandwich and then crash. Obviously I wasn’t paying enough attention to Sara. I guess Mama wasn’t the only one who had withdrawn a little.

That was when I started having strange dreams when I napped on my bed after football practice.

Like any seventeen-year-old, most of my daydreams and night dreams were about girls. I’d lay on my bed and think about whatever girl held my interest at the moment. I’d think about what we’d do on our next date or what we did on our last one. If I felt especially horny, I’d masturbate before taking a nap. Mama had told me that it was healthy to get the tension out of my system that way. It had always worked before and made me rest easier.

But the dreams I started having were different. In the first place, I felt like I was floating and a little loopy. I knew I was tired after the hard practices, especially because I was really throwing myself into it this year, but I had always associated that feeling with one of Mama’s concoctions.

And in the second place, the dreams were vivid and whatever girl I was dreaming about acted in ways that I’d never dreamed about before.

The first one I remembered was about a girl named Leslie that was a good friend and an occasional date. Leslie was fun to be around and we had good sex together. When she was between boyfriends and I wasn’t busy we’d go out and she loved to be held close while I fingered her to orgasm. After that, if we were in the car she’d give me a great hand job. If her parents weren’t home we’d have a nice relaxing screw or two. I always wore condoms of course, just like Mom insisted. It was fun dating Leslie and I made sure she had fun, too.

The dream I remembered about Leslie started out simple enough. We were in the front seat of the car. Leslie was working on my erection just like in real life, pumping it slowly with her soft hand. Then all the sudden I was laying back on my bed and she was working my cock up and down with two inexperienced hands. It took longer than normal because for some reason Leslie did it differently in my dream than she had ever done in reality.

Then, as I got ready to shoot, Leslie held a cold cream jar to the end of my cock as I spurted. She milked my load into the jar with an odd smile of wonder and fascination, as though she had never seen a guy orgasm before. When I was done, she dipped her finger into the jar, stirred the cum around and giggled. Then she pulled her finger out and, after giving it an indecisive sniff, began to smear the stuff on her cheeks and forehead.

After that day, every afternoon when I came home I had a similar dream. No matter which girl I was dreaming about I would find myself lying on my bed and her soft hands would be jacking my hard shaft up and down until I came in a blue cold cream jar. Every day the girl would end up smearing the warm sticky cum on her face as though she were applying make-up.

But that was just the basic theme of the dream. As the days passed, the hands became more and more experienced and fluid. During the first week, the girl would mainly watch on in amusement and fascination, waiting for my orgasm brought on by the soft hands. By the start of the second week, she had proceeded to licking the crown and swirling my sensitive tip with her tongue. She began to play with my testicles, nuzzling them and making a show of inhaling deeply as she tentatively licked them.

At first the dreams were simply quirky and not particularly stimulating. After a few days, I began to enjoy them and they started to influence my regular daydreams about girls. During class, I’d think about one of the girls there and shooting my load as she rubbed my ejaculate all over her face and smiled while telling me how good it felt.

It was so strange that I even tried to speak with Mama about it on the second week, but she seemed too tired and distracted.

On the last Friday before the football season started, things came to a head. Coach had worked us hard that day. He wanted to prepare us for maximum effort on Friday afternoons, our traditional game day. He let us go a little late, telling us to be ready for our first game next week. After showering up, I went home happy and tired.

Mama had left us a stew in the refrigerator and Sara had heated it up for me when I got home. I wolfed it down and drank about a quart of milk. When I was full, I thanked Sara and went upstairs for a nap before my date about three hours later. I was going out with Margaret Lemons.

Maggie, as everyone called her, was one of the cheerleaders and looked like a typical blonde fantasy girl. She had nice firm tits and a great ass. More than anything else, though, Maggie loved to be eaten.

Most of the guys that Maggie went out with only wanted to paw on her great breasts or rub against that beautiful ass all night. Maggie enjoyed dating me because I took my time and did what she wanted to do. That was almost always eating her for longer and longer periods of time. I had a joke with her that I’d whisper into her ear at school. I called her the sweetest Lemon I ever ate.

After she got off, Maggie always took care of me, too. She didn’t much care for giving oral sex herself, but she loved missionary and licking her cream off my face as I slid in and out of her wet sex.

Almost as soon as my head hit the pillow I was dreaming about eating Maggie’s wonderful tasting pussy. She was moaning and pulling my head in deep just like she always does, cumming over and over with little squeals.

Then, the dream took a sharp turn into what now had become more familiar afternoon territory. Maggie rolled me over and started pumping my naked cock. She leaned forward and with a look of loving lust engulfed the head, taking in about three inches of the shaft with it.

Maggie’s hands continued to work on me as well. One was pumping the shaft below her lips, working briskly up and down. The other was gently fondling my balls and thighs. Since the sight of Maggie’s blonde head bobbing up and down on my cock so vigorously had never been one I had experienced in real life, the dream was exhilarating.

As I neared my climax, Maggie began laughing and rubbing the shaft of my cock up and down her face and neck. My hips started rising off the bed and Maggie licked gently on the underside of the crown. As my semen erupted in hot jets, Maggie joyously aimed the spray into her face, gladly accepting my creamy load and rubbing it all over using my cock as an applicator.

Even after I was through, Maggie continued to rub her face with my sensitive, tingling penis. She squeezed the shaft and drew the last dewy pearl of semen to the top and rubbed her full lips with it as though applying lipstick. Then, smacking her lips in pleasure, Maggie kissed the crown of my cock lovingly with her spermy lips.

“Just what do you two think you’re doing?” I heard Mama say forcefully from the doorway.

Coming out of my dream, my only thought was that Mama had caught Maggie and I making out in my bedroom. Maggie was looking back at Mama, still holding my shrinking cock in her hands. Except her hair wasn’t blond. It was black.

“Maggie?” I asked sleepily. Trying to rise, I fell back, too weak to get up.

Then the girl at the end of my bed turned around and looked at me with an expression of shock and fear. Her face was still painted with my sticky cum, but it wasn’t Maggie. As my head floated backward in a daze, I saw the face of my sister Sara.

The next couple of minutes passed in a sleepy haze. I couldn’t seem to raise my head back up, no matter how hard I tried. All I could hear was shuffling around upstairs and Mama telling Sara to wash her face and go directly to her room and not come out.

Then Mama was in my room. She looked down at me as I raised my hand weakly to greet her. I could tell she was mad, but couldn’t quite figure why.

Mama shook her head and covered me with a sheet. She leaned forward and smelled my breath. Spreading my eyelid out between her thumb and forefinger, she looked into my eyes. It was hard for me to focus on Mama, even with her so close to my face.

“You smell nice,” I heard myself telling her drunkenly.

Despite herself it seemed, she chuckled a little.

“Robert, you’ve got to wake up now boy,” she told me, pinching my cheeks and slapping my face gently. “Come on, we’ve important things to do and I need you to have your wits about. Put your pants on when you can and come down to the kitchen as soon as you’re able.”

Heading Mama’s plea, I urged myself up as soon as I could stand. Stumbling to the door, I realized that somehow my blue jeans had made it down to my ankles. Pulling them back up, I rambled to the bathroom and threw cold water on my face.

When I went downstairs, Mama and Sara were on opposite sides of the kitchen table. An oddly familiar blue jar was in between them, as though neither wanted it on their side of the table.

“Where did you get such a notion in your head, child?” Mother pleaded sternly with Sara.

“It was in one of your books,” Sara exclaimed woefully. “I was looking for something to clear up my face and I found the recipe. And it worked Mama, my skin cleared up after only a couple of days.”

“Yes, girl,” Mama said shaking her head. “But maybe not from your hand. I noticed you were breaking out and did something about that weeks ago. Oh, if only I had just explained it to you better.”

“It’s OK now, Mama,” Sara said, reaching out toward our mother’s hand. She blushed when she saw me moving toward the table. “Can’t we just not make a big thing about this?”

I still wasn’t clear about what they were talking about. Mama had come in and woke me up out of a dream. For some reason Sara had been in my room when I had woke. Maybe she had come in with Mama. Perhaps Mama was upset because Sara had seem me half-naked, but I don’t think that was the problem. Casual nudity, while not prominent in our home, was mostly just ignored as the natural part of life it was.

“Oh Sara, you’re still too young to be working in areas where you lack a firm grounding. Go fetch the book where you read this recipe and we’ll see if the harm that’s been done can be reversed. Hurry now, we may not have much time.”

Mama sat me at the table and poured me a strong cup of coffee. Since I didn’t often drink coffee, the potent brew seemed to clear my head quickly. Then again, knowing Mama, the chances were that there was more than just coffee in the coffee.

“Do you understand what went on here, Robert?” Mama asked while Sara was still upstairs.

“Not really,” I said, shaking my head to clear the cobwebs. “I was sleeping and you came and woke me. I still feel tired, but I’m coming around pretty quick. Why are you upset at Sara, Mama?”

“I hope I’m wrong, son, but if I’m not there’s real trouble that’s been brewed up. It involves you and I’m going to have to ask you both some hard questions, so I need you here and sharp. So buckle up now, Robert. Let’s see what Sara’s got.”

My sister had come downstairs with an old leather bound book in her arms. She handed the tome over to Mama, who carefully laid it on the table before her.

“Aye! That’s what I was afraid of, girl!” Mama cried on seeing the cover. “’Remedies for Young Wives.’ What were you thinking, Sara?”

“It was the only book where I found something,” Sara moaned. “Didn’t women marry earlier back then? I’m old enough now to be of the age for the women that was written for,” my sister said a little haughtily, daring Mama to disagree.

“Yes,” Mama replied exasperated. “Your body is maturing, but what about your judgment? Did it occur to you that these remedies might do more than just one thing? What have I always told you about marriage magic? What’s the more basic element?”

“That marriage is a balance,” Sara recited dutifully. “Husband and wives, male and female. You always told me that in any family the magic had to seek the balance. If it did, then the family would be happy and prosper. If a women uses the gifts without care for the balance, there was always a price to be paid.”

“How could you know it so clearly and still do what you’ve done then, child?” Mama asked sounding exasperated.

“But I sought the balance Mama, just like you taught me,” Sara said more optimistically. “Let me show you in the book.”

She crossed over to Mama’s side of the table and together they opened the book to a spot that Sara had marked.

“See look, Mama,” Sara showed her. “Right here. And here. See, just as it suggests here, it says unless you’re certain that sleep is recommended the entire time.”

Mama started grilling me with questions about my dreams. I wasn’t that comfortable talking about them in front of Sara, but I knew better than to cross Mama in one of these moods. As clearly as I could, I explained my recent dreams.

“And you never woke up in the middle of one of these dreams?” Mama asked. When I told her that I hadn’t until today, Mama frowned. “And how do you feel about your sister right now?”

“I’m worried about her,” I told Mama. “Apparently she’s in trouble for something, but for the life of me I don’t understand it.”

“Well, part of that are the charms, dear,” Mama tried to explain. “Men aren’t suppose to be curious about the ways of women. There’s magic all around this house to see to that.”

“Dad always told me not to be too nosy about your business, Mama,” I told her. Then I regretted it. All of our moods darkened a little at the thought of how we missed him.

Turning back to Sara, Mama asked, “OK girlie, you seem to have taken the proper precautions with him. Now what did you do for yourself?”

“I did just as you showed me,” Sara began. Then, looking over at me, she asked, “Do you want me to go into detail?”

Catching her drift, Mama answered, “Just tell me that you followed the preparations in this book. You did, didn’t you?”

“No, Mama,” Sara answered, beginning to be concerned. “I did what you told me to do whenever I mix ingredients for our food. The drop of blood, the string of hair...”

“Enough, child,” Mama interrupted. “Don’t give away the store.”

Thumbing through the index of the book, Mama found what she wanted and turned quickly to another section.

“See, child,” Mama pointed out to her. “Preparations for drawing close and preparations for holding afar. You did neither—before or after. There’s no telling which way the balance has been tipped.”

“But, Mama,” Sara cried mournfully. “I don’t feel any different.”

“And would you now?” Mama asked a little harshly. “How many times have I told you that the gifts are subtle? Subtle enough that even grown women have problems seeing effects they’re looking for. That’s why magic that effects ourselves and our own homes is not to be trifled with.”

“Robert,” Mama said turning back to me. “Have you noticed any changes in how your sister acts towards you lately?”

“Well, she’s been nicer,” I told her. “When I’ve come home from practice every day this week, Sara’s had a hot dinner waiting for me. No squabbles or fights lately. She’s definitely been nice, but that’s all.”

“And the meals were only to get him to his nap quicker,” Sara whispered to Mama and blushed. I don’t think she wanted me to hear that. It was nice she was thinking about me though, so I smiled at her anyway. Seeing it, she smiled back shyly in return.

“I see,” Mama said and looked sternly toward my sibling. “And these girls in your dreams, they always did the same things?”

“No Mama,” I smiled. “The girls always did the same basic things, but the dreams have been getting better and better.”

“What do you mean, son?” Mama asked with a quick glance at Sara. For some reason, she was blushing again.

“Well, at first it seemed all mechanical. They were nice, but impersonal.”

“Go on,” Mama encouraged. “What’s different lately?”

“Well, the girls seemed to enjoy it more,” I told her generally. Mama though, demanded specifics. “They got better at it, for one. Softer and gentler touching. And it’s been taking longer, like each girl seem to be taking more time to savor it. And then ... are you sure you want to know the rest?”

“I definitely do,” she declared.

Sara’s blush was deepening for some reason. If I didn’t know my sister any better, I’d say that she was getting turned on.

“Well, they’ve lately been using their mouths a lot. And rubbing my, uh, penis against their lips like they were in love with it.”

“Aye!” Mama gave a keening cry. “I knew it. Somehow I knew it when I saw your eyes, Sara. Now tell me child, exactly how many times has this gone on?”

Sara counted on her fingers on the verge of tears.

“Ten times, Mama,” she finally said.

“Oh, girl!” Mama exclaimed. “How many times have I told you to be cautious with fresh magic? Anything past seven is almost impossible to alter.”

“But Mama, it was working,” Sara wailed mournfully.

Little trails of tears were appearing down her cheeks. The discussion was beginning to scare me a little even though I didn’t quite understand what the problem was as yet.

“The boys at school were teasing me, Mama,” Sara explained. “Especially one I thought I liked. It hurt.”

“And when your face cleared up?” Mama went on. “Why didn’t you stop then if all you were interested in was those boys and their teasing?”

“It was working,” Sara said and then, looked at me and blushed again. “I was just trying to look my best.”

“Oh, child!” Mother exclaimed, shaking her head. “Don’t you see how subtle it is? Of course you want to look you best, but for whom? The magic takes a common tendency and focuses it more sharply than intended. Every woman wants to look her best...”

Mama’s voice trailed off, as though she was suddenly thinking about something deeply.

“Even I’ve been paying more attention to myself lately,” she went on eventually, but in such a way that said she was still distracted. “And wanting to come home earlier. That’s how I surprised you tonight, wasn’t it?”

Suddenly Mama sharpened and turned on Sara.

“What did you do with what you collected, child? Tell me everything, and quickly!”

“First, I applied it warm, just like the book said,” Sara said softly and blushed again.

“And? What else?” Mama goaded.

“A little in my food. Just like the book said.”

“And? Is that all?”

“No, Mama,” Sara said looking down at the table like a scolded child. “I also mixed a little in my cold cream that I use to take my make-up off at night. I wanted just a little on my face before I went to bed at night.”

“You mean the one in the little jar, or the bigger one we both use?”

“The bigger one,” Sara said. “I’m sorry, Mama. I wasn’t thinking!”

Mama slumped back in her chair. At first, she looked at nothing but the table. Then her eyes slowly rose to mine. She looked as though she was searching for some answer, but I didn’t even understand the questions.

“The balance,” Mama whispered, though I don’t think it was to me. “Our home has been out of balance since he left us.”

Turning toward Sara, Mama took her hand.

“This is mostly my fault, child,” she said sadly. “With your daddy gone, I should have set the house in balance quicker. I see that now. In my grief, I’ve left us all open to something that should never have happened. But you have to promise me to not do anything else that will make matters worse. How much of what you’ve collected do you still have?”

Sara nodded to the blue jar on the table, but when Mama opened it and looked inside it, she was disappointed.

“It’s empty,” she moaned.

“I’ve been using even more lately,” Sara admitted. “And tonight,” she added with a shiver, “I just wanted to have it all still warm and fresh.”

“Aye, child!” Mama exclaimed slapping her hands against the table. She shook her head as if to clear it and said, “There’s trouble and I’m not thinking clearly.”

She looked around almost desperate, then turned to me.

“Robert, don’t you have a date tonight?” Mama asked.

“Yea, Mama,” I answered excitedly. “I’m suppose to pick up Margaret Lemons in less than an hour.”

“Well, get going then. Leave early, in fact,” Mama added. “Stay out as long as you want tonight. Your sister and I have a lot of work to do!”

I came in late that night and since Mama and Sara were nowhere to be seen, I went immediately to bed. It had been a long day, what with football practice and Mama getting upset at home afterward. Maggie had helped me set everything right though, so I was feeling much better when I crawled under the covers.

I was woken up by a loud knock on my door in the morning and Mama’s voice telling me to dress and get down to breakfast. After throwing on some jeans and a T-shirt, I visited the bathroom and brushed my teeth. Then padding down the stairs barefooted, I went to the kitchen hungry for some of Mama’s hearty breakfast food.

But something about the way that Mama and Sara were sitting at the kitchen table when I entered let me know that we wouldn’t be eating soon. They both looked a little tired and were dressed very conservatively for a Saturday morning around the house.

Sara usually wore very little on weekend mornings, a long T-shirt nightgown at best. Today she had on a long sleeved sweater and jeans. Sara looked very young this morning, almost like a baby. And vulnerable somehow. I got the urge to protect her from something, though I didn’t know what from.

Mama on the other hand was more casual, but more tired as well. Her hair had obviously been brushed through hours ago and now the loose strands that fell on the side of her face seemed to caress her cheek inadvertently, yet sensually. She looked harried and I just wanted to pick her up in my arms and comfort her and let her know everything would be all right.

“Sit down, son,” she said, motioning me to the table.

Mama gave me some tea to drink and a couple of pieces of fruit just to get something in my belly. The tea tasted good and seemed to relax me even though I didn’t know I had been tense.

“Now close your eyes and tell us about your date last night,” Mama told me.

At first I was concerned because Sara wasn’t normally with us when Mama and I talked about my dates the night before. Sara seemed so young and vulnerable that I wanted to protect her. But Mama’s tea had relaxed me and nothing Maggie and I had done last night was wrong. Besides, I still trusted Mama in all things.

So I told them about Maggie and I hanging out at the pizza parlor with our friends. We had stayed there for an hour and then left early to the hoots and teasing of the gang.

I told them how Maggie had put her arms around my neck and told the girls that they were just jealous because I was all hers tonight. And how I had grabbed her by the firm cheeks of her bottom and spun her around in the air and told the same thing to the guys. Only that they were jealous of me because of Maggie, of course. Which was probably more the case, to be sure.

I heard a huff and a sniff from the other end of the table, where Sara had been sitting. She was probably just reacting to the antics of us older kids that I was explaining. Sara being a little girl and less mature than Maggie and me, that is.

I told them how Maggie and I had ended up by the lake and how she had been so horny. I told Mama how soft Maggie’s breasts seemed, not as firm as before and a little flatter. But her nipples had stood up nice and hard as I had sucked them and Maggie had squirmed around very pretty in the front seat until she couldn’t stand it any longer.

I could hear soft little moans coming from around the table as I told Mama the story. There was an interesting smell in the kitchen too, like warm bread that was baking.

Maggie had crawled into the backseat undoing her skirt as she went over. Even as I followed her, Maggie was pulling my head between her legs, telling me exactly what she wanted. For over an hour she kept me there, her thighs wrapped over my shoulders. I didn’t mind either because Maggie tasted especially good that night. There was something special about her flavor that kept reminding me of home, which was odd because she had never tasted quite that way before. Or any other girl for that matter.

As I talked with my eyes closed, I got a little restless in my seat. I was getting excited explaining about Maggie’s warm thighs around my head or thinking about the way the soft black hair that protected her vagina had tickled my nose. Which was odd because wasn’t Maggie a true blonde? I had always remembered her being one before.

I didn’t mention this to Mama because she didn’t ask. She seemed more distracted than usual and kept asking Sara if she was sure she could stand to listen. My sister’s voice came back husky and breathy in low whispers to her. I’m sure she was just too embarrassed about the ways of young adults, being so young and vulnerable and all.

After a short pause, Mama asked me to skip to what happened next and I had to honestly tell her that I lost count of how many times Maggie came. Mama rushed me on. I explained to her how finally, almost exhausted, Maggie made me stop what we were doing but how she lay back looking so soft and welcoming as I took off my pants. And how she helped me with the condom, even insisted I use one this time even though I had a strong urge to leave it off just this once.

“Are you sure you wore a condom, son?” Mama asked me anxiously. Her voice seemed strained and nervous.

“Yes, two different times, Mama,” I told her. “Maggie was insatiable last night. And so was I, I suppose.”

I started to tell her how Maggie had seemed different, her body softer and more rounded. Her muscles didn’t feel like the hard firm muscles of a cheerleader but more yielding and more comforting as we moved together.

A little squeal came from the other end of the table and Mama insisted that I keep my eyes closed. There was a harsh exchange of whispers with Mama telling Sara to go to her room and take care of herself and not to come down until she could control her urges.

I could have told Mama that Sara was too young for the image of me lying on top of Maggie, straining into her soft body in the backseat of our car. Or how she had smelled so warm and familiar, her hair almost black in the shadows of the car.

Both females of the house seemed upset and even after Sara ran upstairs I could hear Mama fretting. Finally she stood up from the table with nervous energy. I just had to help her and, opening my eyes, went around the table and took Mama into my arms to comfort her.

“We have to help Sara, Robert,” Mama told me in sorrowful whispers. “She didn’t mean to do it and now she’s so confused. We’re all confused.”

“I don’t feel confused, Mama” I told her. And it was true. Suddenly I knew just what Mama needed.

Tipping Mama’s head back, I kissed her soft, but insistent. Her body stiffened in surprise and she took one step back, but I followed her and then she was against the counter. When I pressed her into the counter with my hips and my fingers gently beginning to stroke her neck and shoulders, Mama relaxed and her body grew soft and inviting.

When my right hand found its way under Mama’s light sweater, I stroked the warm skin of her side and stomach. Mama sighed and whispered, “We shouldn’t.”

When my hand kept drifting upward and slid under her bra to cup one soft, tender breast, I told her, “We should.”

Mama seemed to melt, even as my hands grasped her buttocks and lifted her up on the counter. That put her higher, so I didn’t have to lean as far, and let me kiss and nip her neck and shoulders. Mama’s ears were tender and as I sucked her earlobe she moaned in my ear almost like she was climaxing. Her legs were wrapped hard around me by then, pulling us together as she ground her soft crotch into my stomach. I wanted to have her so bad, to strip her and possess her, and would have too had we not been interrupted by my sister.

“Mama!” Sara shouted over the roar of blood in our ears. “Mama, what are you doing?”

Sara physically pushed us apart, which wasn’t easy for such a little girl to do. Mama’s legs still clung about me and her eyes were glassy with desire. She wanted me—I could see it—as much as I wanted her. Only my desire to protect my little sister kept me from sweeping her bodily aside and taking mother right there on the counter, or better yet the floor.

Sara pushed back against me hard and then threw a half a glass of water in our mother’s face. She sputtered and seemed to snap out of something, her eyes focusing on her little girl.

“Oh, Sara,” she wailed. “What have we done? In protecting you so well, we’ve upset the balance once more. And my own reaction? The magic that you brewed up was potent indeed, girl. I thought I could withstand him, but if you hadn’t come along, I don’t know what I would have done.”

“You would have bred him,” Sara replied with no little venom. “You sent me away so you could have him for yourself! Admit it to me, mother dear. You shoved me aside to have him for your bed!”

And then it was my turn to separate the two girls. Sara, the smaller and more in need of my protection, I picked up bodily and set her on the table to put a wide gulf between them.

Which didn’t work quite the way I had planned it either. No sooner was Sara in the shelter of my protective arms than she began to attach herself to me as though playing some child’s game. When she began rubbing her body against me and moaning, it was all I could do to pry myself away from her.

“What’s going on here, Sara?” I demanded of her. “You’re too young to play such games, especially at a time like this.”

“Too young?” Sara demanded loudly. “What have you done, witch?” she yelled at mother. “Does he see me now as a little girl? Is that it?”

With a gleam in her eye, Sara spun me around until I faced our mother.

“Look at Mama, Robert,” she whispered in my ear far too seductively for such a little girl. “See how she wants you? And how you want her?”

And it was true. Even as I heard Mama saying something to Sara that I couldn’t understand, I looked beyond her concerned face to her lush body. Her nipples called to me. Her legs, still spread, showed dampness in the crotch of her jeans. Even from here I could smell her and the smell brought me back into her arms.

Mama’s small arms held me back and then swatted me around the ears. If I hadn’t known better, I would have sworn she was resisting. But the rest of her wasn’t resisting, that’s for sure.

Mama’s breasts called to my itchy palms and my nose informed me that her sex was flowing, readying itself for my manhood. As I pressed against her again on the counter, her arms flailed less violently. By the time my fingers found her naked nipples and plucked them tenderly, Mama’s own lips were on mine, pressing firmly and not to be denied.

Together we stripped her of her sweater. As I feasted on Mama’s soft, small breasts that had only just begun to sag a little, I heard her moans deep in my ear and through my bones, thrilling me.

And I heard Sara’s moans that sounded more the moans of frustration as she busily ran about the kitchen behind us. I couldn’t tell what she was doing, but then my hands and mouth were full of Mama—kissing, sucking and nibbling at her everywhere that I could reach.

Which wasn’t in enough places. Even though she was naked from the waist (somehow Mama’s bra had been discarded in the fray), I had to have all of her. Lifting her to her feet and off the counter, I stood her up and ripped apart the opening to her jeans boldly, sending the button flying carelessly across the room.

As Mama squirmed out of her jeans, I squirmed out of mine. The process would have been quicker except that our hands hardly refused to leave each other’s skin. Whatever was uncovered became a joyous discovery for the other. Finally though, even in our eagerness, we divested ourselves and each other of our last scrap of clothes.

Mama looked glorious lying beneath me on the kitchen floor when I finally raised up over her naked body. She had opened herself, wide and willing, arms and legs thrown out, waiting to enfold me like some primordial whore. But when my hard shaft began to sink into her depths, there was nothing whorish in our embrace. She was like my blushing bride being taken for the first time, both anxious and expectant, wanting more.

And I gave her more. Screwing my hips down deep into her, I ground Mama’s pelvis against the floor. We were intensely joined, moaning and caressing each other’s bodies. It was like a dream, a dark incestuous fantasy that somehow seemed pure and right.

Mama’s passions soon peaked. Still I rode on, bucking my hips up and down while being cautious not to pound her small frame into the floor. I used all my skill to heighten her pleasure. Every girl I’d ever loved was just a testing ground compared to her. On Mama I poured out the full measure of my affection and love and erotic desire. She crested and held, caught in that great loop of pleasure that only multi-orgasmic women can achieve. I was so overwhelmed by the height of Mama’s passion, so thrilled that I could please her so much and so soon, that I forgot to reach my own peak and contented myself with being the instrument that made her soar.

Higher and higher Mama climbed, soaring from one orgasmic height to the next. My steady rhythmic hips and soft hands drove her further, higher, then farther still. Each zenith Mama attained seemed more intense. I urged her on as best I could, wanting to make our first coupling as pure and perfect as I could.

But even pretty Sidhe birds can’t fly into the fiery passions of the sun. Like Icarus, Mama suddenly fell limply to the floor, exhausted and unconscious.

Which left me hard and near to hurting. But even magic couldn’t make me desire her sleeping form. Love her, yes, and feel most tender for her as well. Regretfully, I pulled out of Mama’s wet warmth.

But my hard tool was not cold long. Even as I sank back in frustration, another replaced my mother’s warmth. Long black hair began to bob up and down my swollen spike. In their need, my hips raised up to sink my shaft into the willing, eager mouth of my naked little sister.

Only she was not so little anymore. She looked her true age, her body ripening and well on its way to full development. Even though I felt no great, strong lust for Sara, when she looked up at me and began to crawl up my body, I could see strong lust for me in her eyes.

Sara didn’t want to be denied. She pushed me back hard and began to rub my hard shaft between her virgin lips. I could have risen. I was several times stronger than she and not locked in the magic of her passion, but my bout with mother had left me hard and eager. Here was a wet and willing sheath for my tool. And mine was a tool in desperate need of sheathing.

And so, in a moment of weakness, I let her mount me. She was my sister, and I loved her dearly. But, when her weight sunk down on my hard shaft, I fell in love with her a different way—even without Sidhe magic.

Sara was as hot and wet as Mom, but incredibly much tighter. She flinched as her maidenhead was torn away, but the lust in her eyes consumed the pain. Even though a part of my brain knew she was caught up in her own magic, another more primitive portion only saw an eager mature female who adored him. The love in her eyes, the fierce passion in the way she bit her lip and started to slide back and forth along my thick pole, all of this more traditional female magic melted my own heart into hers.

Up and down she slowly paced herself. She was still too tight inside for speed. The thin, stretched lips of Sara’s sex skinned back my cock with every oscillation. All that prevented the pleasure from rubbing over into pain was Sara’s copious moisture. Her thick creams, tinged in pink, coated and clung to my throbbing cock, soothing the tight way inside her.

Reaching down, I rubbed the hard pea of her clit. Sara gasped, and a small spasm of orgasm shook her. When the wave had crested, she had loosened inside and began to ride me with more vigor.

Soon, my hips began to rise to hers. The Sidhe magic brought her renewed passion alongside my own. When I painted her virgin womb white with sperm, my sister Sara came hard with me, and collapsed in my arms.

My head cleared first and, looking over, saw that Mama was still fast asleep. She must have been up all night weaving her magic. Magic that had now proved inadequate against her children’s lust.

And my compatriot in love and lust looked up at me as well. Her eyes, cleared for a moment from the magic, smiled sorrowfully and put her head on her brother’s stomach in repose.

“It won’t last, you know, as happy as it makes us feel,” she told me.

When I asked her why, all she would say was some cryptic mumbling about balance.

“There’s all kinds of balance in the world,” I explained to her in my ignorance. Doesn’t a tripod balance even though it has only three legs?”

“Yes,” she said exasperated, as though explaining to a child. “But only when the legs reinforce each other equally. Not like this!”

“Why not like this?” I asked her obstinately. Lying here naked with the two women I love the most, I guess I was a little hardheaded.

“Because Mama and me ...” Sara started to explain and then her voice trained off in concentration.

I’d seen that look before. With females in this house, the acorn didn’t fall far from the Sidhe tree. Finally my not-so-little sister’s eyes snapped back at mine and blazed.

“Robert, the only way to make it work is if you’re willing to share us—me with Mom and Mom with me. That’s the only way to set the balance right. At least, the only path that I can see.”

“You mean you and Mom feeling the same way about each other as I do with her and you do with me?” I asked her.

“Yes,” Sara answered carefully. “Does that turn you off?”

I thought about what she was saying. In my mind’s eye, I saw them staring at each other with that magic lust, their naked bodies writhing on a bed. When Mama’s warm mouth bent down to suckle Sara’s breasts, my limp cock started to stir. When I thought of Sara licking Mama’s juices hungrily from her fingers, I was full. Then I felt my sister’s soft hand wrap around my hard erection.

“I take it that I’ve got your answer,” she giggled and then rubbed the still sticky head around her lips. With a final lick, she added, “Hurry now, before she wakes. I need a needle from Mama’s sewing kit, a pair of scissors and some thread.”

I ran naked upstairs laughing and found what Sara needed. When I came back I found my sister with her hips raised up to hold in our juices. She was still dressed only in a smile and an upraised hand.

“Now turn around. You mustn’t look,” she told me. “This is woman’s work and you’ve certainly made me a woman today.”

At Sara’s gentle jibe about her lost virginity, my manhood reared its head again. When we were done, I wanted to have her again as soon as she was ready.

“Turn around here now,” she told me finally. “This is something you need to do, not me. Put two fingers deep inside me. Yes, just like that. Easy now,” she said giggling softly, “I’m a little sore, you lout. And rub my clit too, while you’re down there. Now when you pull your fingers out, spread the sticky mixture around on Mama’s face. You’ll have to do it gently while she’s asleep.”

I was intrigued by Sara’s audacity and more than a little hard at what she wanted. She assured me that the spell was similar to the one she’d made on me.

“But this remedy applied to Mama’s face will not just bind her more to you, but to me as well. Think of my pussy as your cold cream jar, Robert,” Sara said, smiling seductively.

So I did as she said, painting Mama’s face with the sticky mixture I gathered from between my sister’s thighs. By the third time I dipped, Sara squirmed on my fingers buried deep inside and added more cream to the jar, so to speak.

“Now paint her lips,” Sara signed when she could breath again.

As I spread the frothy mixture around on Mama’s lips, she murmured in her sleep. When she licked her lips and sighed, I almost came. Then I was done and truly hard and aching, so Sara pulled me down and into her once more, only asking me to sink easy into her tender flesh.

“We’ll have to keep loving her—the two of us!—all day,” Sara whispered into my ear as I rocked on top of her. “The next time you make love to her, you’ll have to do the same for me. I want to be awake when you paint my face, though. I want to suck you fingers after you’ve had them in Mama and lick both your creams while they’re nice and warm. We’ll be good to you, Robert. Both of us. And you’ll be good to us, I know you will!”

I added a fresh load to what had already been deep inside my sister. When we were done, she crafted a charm for each of us to keep us active and give us plenty of endurance for the day.

Then as I carried Mama to our new bed upstairs, Sara made a quick brunch to give our bodies fuel and energy to burn. By the time that she was done, I had made love to Mama one more time. As she lay, dazed and overload with magic and endorphins, I painted my sister’s face just as she had asked. And she did suck my fingers clean, and other things as well! Together, we kept Mama high on magic lust all day, until the spells had had plenty of time to take hold permanently.

That’s how I ended up with two Sidhe witches in my bed. Mother and sister and none of us could be happier. I still wish Dad was here, but the inheritance he left me would make any man happy for the rest of his days.

Mama still runs the household. As soon as I graduated, Dad’s company started me out and helped me learn his trade. Sara loved high school after that and we’re making plans for her to go on to college, maybe even becoming another registered dietician. I think she’ll meet her own man some day. She says she won’t, but I’ve promised not to hold her to it.

And Mama’s talked recently about having babies in the house. She may want one herself, but she’s also talked of getting me a legal wife to bear us children. She’s been dreaming of a good Irish girl for her son. I’ve been thinking about how much Maggie liked to lick her juices from my face as we made love. She might fit in just fine in our home, with me and my two loving Sidhe wives.