Diet
by Pan
Chapter 48
I’ve said before, I’m no actor. So it took effort to hide the look on my face as we walked into the diner.
Not that it would’ve mattered, really. I don’t think anyone was looking at me. As soon as anyone’s attention drifted anywhere near our direction, it was entirely consumed by the two women on my arms.
Mom was dressed like...well, like a MILF, in denim shorts, a tight white t-shirt, and a pair of sneakers. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she had thick makeup on, far more than one would typically wear to a diner: a little lipstick, mascara, foundation, eyeliner, and eye shadow. She looked more than a little uncomfortable, showing so much of her legs in public, which to my mind just made the outfit all the hotter.
Best of all, it was clear that she wasn’t wearing a bra. Or underwear, but that was less obvious. Her thick nipples pressed against her shirt, hard enough to be visible through the thin fabric.
But my sister was the real show-stealer. She wore a tight black skirt, just above the knee, paired with some thigh-high stockings and pumps. She had a pink shirt on, with a low enough cut that you could see the lacy black bra she was wearing underneath.
Cynthia had her hair down, which gave the whole outfit a sexy, messy feel. She was wearing no makeup except lip gloss, which gave her face an innocent vibe, contrasting with the slutty outfit in a way that I found incredibly hot.
And I knew I wasn’t the only one.
So yeah, I was pretty sure that no one was looking at me, except to maybe wonder how I’d landed such babes. And if they had bothered to glance my way, the only thing worth noticing was my erection, which I’d done all I could to tuck out of sight.
Both women had their arms in mine, and they were walking in step as we followed our server to the booth. Every man we passed did a double take at the sight of the girls. Some tried to hide their gawking glances, others turned bright red. But some stared openly, outright ogling the two women on my arms.
Mom was blushing furiously, but she kept her cool. Cynthia, meanwhile, wasn’t doing so well—I knew she wanted to sink into the floor, convinced that the men’s attention was due to her wearing an outfit that was completely unsuitable for her body type.
She was dressed like the slut she was—the slut I’d made her. It looked incredible; I swear, my sister’s body was built to show off. She was a walking porn star, and the outfit accentuated her natural assets, her firm, round breasts pushing outward against the thin fabric of her top, and her tight ass pressing against her skirt.
As we sat, I wondered what our server thought of the two women. Was she jealous? Indifferent?
Interested?
She, of course, had no way of knowing how adept my mother had become at pleasing other women...
I’ll say this about my sister: she really did try.
Consciously, I have no idea how she justified it to herself. But deep in her mind, she had a clear instruction: she couldn’t cum. She must not cum.
If she came, her brother would find her disgusting. He’d never be attracted to her. And nothing—nothing—was more important to my sister than that.
But this immovable wall had met the unstoppable force that was our mother. Mom had been given an order, and her subconscious knew that if she didn’t obey it, there’d be consequences.
The Toy.
Showing what I considered pretty remarkable self-control, I wasn’t in the room when Mom first started going down on my sister.
But I heard about it later, from both sides.
“Tell me what happened,” I ordered. Mom was kneeling in front of me, completely naked, her tits bound (and starting to turn purple), her ass glowing red from the spanking I’d given her before putting her under.
Her eyes were glazed over...partially because she was hypnotized, but just as much because of the powerful orgasm she’d just had at my hand. At her own son’s hand.
I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of spanking my mother to orgasm.
“When?” Mom asked. She wasn’t playing games, she was just too turned on to think straight.
“This morning. When you started going down on your daughter.”
“Oh.”
I was stroking my cock, ‘testing’ an earlier punishment. Testing how well she took my load on her face. I’d normally have had her blow me—Mom’s mouth is incredible—but then, of course, she wouldn’t be able to tell me the story.
“Cynthia was in her room,” Mom gulped, her eyes following the motion of my hand. “I told her...I told her it was time.”
“Time for what?”
Mom hated specifying it, which is why I insisted she did.
“Time for...for my punishment.”
I looked at her with one eyebrow raised. I didn’t even have to say anything—Mom knew what that look meant.
She knew that she needed to keep me happy.
“Time for me to go down on her,” she whispered.
“What did she say?”
“She didn’t say anything. She just...she spread her legs.”
“What was she wearing?”
“Nothing. S-she was...she was naked.”
“What did her pussy look like? Be specific.”
“She had no hair,” Mom said, swallowing hard. “She was...pink.”
“Was she wet?”
“Y-yes,” Mom answered, her voice shaking slightly.
“Did she seem aroused?”
Mom paused. “Um...yes.”
“How could you tell?”
“B-because of how wet she was.”
“What else?”
“Her clit,” Mom replied, squirming uncomfortably. “It was...it was hard.”
“Did you want to taste it?” I asked. Mom, predictably, didn’t answer.
“Did you taste it?“
“Yes,” Mom sighed, the sudden look of lust in her eyes telling me everything she refused to say aloud.
“What happened next?” I asked, slightly breathily, as I pumped into my sister’s sopping cunt. The same cunt Mom had had her mouth on just a few hours earlier.
Cynthia was bent double as I fucked her. She hadn’t even questioned why I wanted to hypnotize her, slumped over the bed like this.
She never questioned anything I told her to do.
“Mom—oh! Mom...licked me.”
“Where?”
“She licked up my lips,” Cynthia panted. “My p-pussy lips. Until her tongue rested on my clit.”
“How did it feel?”
“Incredible,” my sister admitted. “I was so wet. So turned on. I loved knowing that Mom was doing this because my brother ordered her to. I loved knowing that he could walk in at any point, and...and...”
She paused, swallowing, and I knew she was trying not to cum.
Just as she had earlier that day, with Mom’s tongue on her. In her.
“What happened next?”
“She moved one hand up,” Cynthia moaned. “Until it was resting on my thigh. Until she was touching my cunt. And then, she...she started licking me again.”
“Licking what?”
“My clit. Lapping at it. Trying to make me cum.”
“Did you want to cum?”
“No!” Cynthia answered immediately. “No. No, I wanted to be good. I wanted to be good for my brother. I wanted to make him want me. I wanted to...oh!”
I’d thrust into her particularly hard, my cock ramming against her cervix.
“What did Mom do next?”
“I moved a finger inside her,” my mother admitted shamefully, while staring at my cock. At my hand, stroking it, aiming directly at her face.
“God,“ I groaned, and Mom shivered at the sound of my lust. “What did it feel like?“
“Warm. Hot. Wet...so wet.“
I smiled. My sister was a juicy girl, I knew that first-hand. Or first—...cock, I guess.
“Did you like it?”
No answer.
“What did you do next?”
“I added another finger. Then a third.”
“And?”
“And I started to move them in and out of her.”
“You were basically fisting her,” I replied. “You were basically fisting your daughter.”
Nod.
“What did she do?”
“I felt her body tremble,” Mom said. I couldn’t tell how much of the lust in her voice was from what she was saying, and how much was from having my cock in her face, but I loved it. “I could see that she...she was enjoying it, so I kept moving my fingers in the same rhythm.”
She bit her lip, keeping quiet, waiting for me to say something.
“And?”
“And we kept going like that.”
“For how long?”
“Hours,” Mom confessed. “Hours and hours. Until my hand was cramping, and my tongue was sore.”
I smiled. Like I said, Cynthia really had tried.
Cynthia’s voice was muffled by the pillow I was fucking her into, but I could still hear her every word.
“Then my brother came in,” Cynthia groaned. “Fuck! Fuck...”
It’s true. I’d seen my mother enter about two hours before curiosity got the better of me, and I’d had to investigate and see what was happening.
I don’t know what I’d been expecting, but it hadn’t been my sister, laying on her bed, staring at the ceiling as Mom’s hand rammed in and out of her daughter’s cunt with all the enthusiasm she gave her monstrous daily workouts.
“How did you stop yourself from cumming?”
“It wasn’t easy. It was so...oh! So fucking hard...”
“So how did you do it?”
“I closed my eyes and did math in my head. I tried to ignore the pleasure, to concentrate only on the algebra running through my mind. I tried to think about anything other than what was happening.”
Both women had been naked, and both were glistening with sweat. The smell of my sister’s sex filled the room, and the sound of Mom’s fingers pounding into her cunt echoed off the walls.
Mom’s face was flushed, but her eyes were bright when I tapped her shoulder. Her entire face was coated with my sister’s juices.
“What happened next?”
“Daniel told us that he needed Mom. He told me that it was...fuck! It was time for her reward.“
“What do you think he meant by that?”
“He was going to fuck her mouth,” my sister groaned. “God. Just like he used to fuck mine. He was going to use Mom’s mouth for his pleasure. He was going to make her suck his cock until he came in her mouth. Until he filled her mouth with his perfect, delicious sperm.”
“What did you do?”
“I watched,” Cynthia admitted. “I watched as Mom started to lick him. Just like she’d been licking me, her tongue moved all over his shaft, then she closed her mouth over his cock and started sucking at the head.”
I’d been so turned on by the sight of Mom going down on Cynthia—and the knowledge that she’d been doing it for hours without a break—that I’d just had to take her. I’d had to take Mom’s mouth, while my sister watched.
“What next?”
“For a moment,” Cynthia moaned, “just for a moment, he looked at me. He looked at me, and he didn’t go soft. He didn’t look mad. He looked at me, and I thought about how good I was being for him. How obedient. He looked at me, and I imagined him letting me suck his cock again. God, I wanted to be in Mom’s position so bad...”
“Did he cum?”
“Yesss. He came in her mouth. All over her tongue.”
“Did you watch?”
“I watched. I watched as Mom swallowed every last drop of my cum.”
“And what did she do next?”
“She turned around and kept going down on me,” Cynthia sighed, her eyes shining with want. “The tongue that had just been coated in my brother’s cum entered me, and...”
“And she came,” Mom said, her voice flat. “I m-made my daughter cum. I made my daughter cum, while you watched. While my own son watched.”
“Fuck,” I groaned—the mix of lust and regret in Mom’s eyes was enough to set me off, and soon I was cumming onto her face. She shuddered with pleasure as I coated her face with my seed. She licked her lips, savoring my flavor on her tongue.
“How did you feel?” I asked, and Mom surprised me by answering.
“Awful,” she said, her voice hollow. “You and Cynthia are...you’re my children. I shouldn’t be doing things like this to you. I shouldn’t be m-making you...making you...”
She shuddered.
“And you definitely shouldn’t be watching,” Mom continued. “Cynthia shouldn’t see me s-suck your...and you shouldn’t see your sister cum. You shouldn’t see each other like that.”
“What else?” I pushed, not sure if I should be worried.
“And I shouldn’t be...”
I waited, but Mom never finished her thought. But I would’ve bet a month of sex that the next two words would’ve been “enjoying it”.
“How do you think your brother felt when you came?” I asked, grasping my sister’s hips as I plunged into her again and again.
“Disgusted,” Cynthia groaned. “He thought I was disgusting.”
“How does that make you feel?”
“Terrible.”
“What else?”
“T-turned on,” my sister admitted. “God. I know it’s fucked up. I know I shouldn’t.”
“But you do. Because you’re a pervert.”
“Yesss,” she hissed.
“You’re a disgusting pervert. You’re a filthy, twisted slut. That’s all you are, isn’t it? That’s all you’ll ever be.”
“Uh huh,” Cynthia gasped as I slammed into her, burying myself to the hilt. “Oh god. Oh god, yes.”
“Say it,” I ordered.
“I’m a pervert. I’m Daniel’s dirty, nasty little sister. His perverted sister.“
“You hate it, don’t you?”
“Yesss.”
“And just as much, you love it.”
“I love it,” Cynthia confessed. “I love it so much.”
“Tell me what you want.”
“I want my brother. I want him to fuck me, so badly. I want him to want me, like I want him. I want him to see me as something other than a deviant.”
“But you know he never will, don’t you?”
“Y-yes.”
The sound of utter despair in my sister’s voice sent me over the edge, and I groaned loudly as I came, filling her wet cunt with my seed. My sister didn’t cum, but her entire body was trembling and pulsating as I pulled out of her.
“Tomorrow,” I instructed. “Tomorrow, you have another chance. If you can stop yourself from cumming, maybe your brother will want you.”
“Maybe,” Cynthia replied, but I could tell from her voice that she had zero confidence in the idea.
Sure enough, my sister came again the next day. This time, I stayed away, curious to see if my mother could get her there without my assistance. Don’t get me wrong—I certainly wanted to watch. The sight of Mom going down on her own daughter, for hours on end...it was something I’d fantasized about for years, and never imagined I’d get to see.
It wasn’t easy, keeping myself out of the living-room (which was where Mom had decided to fulfill her punishment that day), but I was apparently built with more willpower than my sister.
Rather than jumping straight into sex, Mom had mixed it up and started by making out with Cynthia. After almost half an hour of foreplay, of the two women kissing, hands exploring each other’s bodies, Mom’s hands massaging my sister’s sensitive tits, pulling at her nipples...only then had Mom slithered to the floor, spread Cynthia’s legs, and begun tasting her pussy.
The teasing hadn’t stopped there. Mom had spent another ten minutes licking and sucking at Cynthia’s pussy-lips before her tongue even made contact with Cynthia’s clit, pressing firmly against the little bundle of nerves.
Cynthia had practically jumped off the couch. Her own edging sessions involved stimulating herself past the point of saturation: overwhelming her senses, not avoiding them. She had never been teased like this, and when Mom’s tongue finally met her clit, she’d almost cum on the spot.
But it wasn’t until Mom had taken one of Cynthia’s thighs in each hand, pinning her down to the floor as she sucked on her pussy that Cynthia had gone over the edge. Mom had been relentless, licking, sucking, stroking Cynthia’s clit until my sister’s entire body began to shake, and her hips were thrusting against Mom’s face, trying to force more of her into her mouth.
I don’t know if the women in my family were gay, but after hearing both of them describe what it had been like, I was confident they were at least a little bit bi. The way Mom’s already-glassed-over eyes had managed to go even more hazy as she talked about it. The way Cynthia had lost her breath in the re-telling, gasping and panting as though I was fucking her.
Yeah.
But the icing on the cake had been after Mom came (while retelling the story, not while getting my sister off). She’d been so worked up, I hadn’t been able to help myself, throwing her across my lap and spanking her round ass until her orgasm rolled over her body.
Once it was done, the hollow look was back. The guilt—not only of what she’d done to her daughter, but at how much she enjoyed it. At how much it turned her on.
“Tell me what it was like when Cynthia came,” I said, unable to resist an opportunity to twist the knife.
“Her juices were dripping down my face,” my mother said, her downbeat tone a delicious contrast to the vivid description. “I...I swallowed as much as I could, making sure m-my tongue never left her clit. Her thighs were twitching and clenching, and I...I...”
“How did you feel?”
Mom fell silent, her unfocused eyes staring at me in pain.
“How do you feel now?”
“Terrible,” Mom whispered. “I shouldn’t be...we shouldn’t be...”
“But you will, won’t you?” I asked, and Mom nodded. “You’ll do whatever I tell you.”
There was a pause, but I saw Mom glance towards her bedroom door.
To the room where the Toy sat, a silent reminder of what was in store for her if she didn’t obey.
“Y-yes,” she finally admitted.
The next day wasn’t quite as easy. For Mom, that is—after hearing the tale of how quickly Cynthia had cum, I’d made things very clear to her.
“Every time you cum, your score drops. Every time you prove what a pervert you are, how easily you orgasm at your own mother’s hands, your brother’s estimation of you drops. He’s not attracted to deviants like you. You need to try harder.”
“Yes, sir,” Cynthia had intoned, her glassy eyes staring obediently into mine.
And again, I know she tried. She almost succeeded, too—Mom spent half the day on her knees in front of her daughter, pulling out every trick she could to make her cum.
Once more, she opened with foreplay, making out with my sister for a long while before moving her mouth any lower. As the girls told me about it later, it was easy to imagine—after all, I’d spent much of the last few months watching my female relatives kiss, Mom’s hands roaming over Cynthia’s naked body, touching and tweaking and making her squirm.
When Mom had gotten Cynthia hot and bothered, she’d moved to the floor of her daughter’s bedroom. Mom had spent a good twenty minutes exploring Cynthia’s wet cunt with her tongue, teasing and stroking her pussy until her daughter was trembling with anticipation.
But when she’d finally gotten to her daughter’s clit, Mom hadn’t had the same results as the previous day.
She’d again been merciless, flicking her tongue at Cynthia’s nub, rubbing her clit while plunging her tongue deep into her daughter’s pussy. But my words had been running around my sister’s subconscious, telling her that she couldn’t cum. She couldn’t.
And she hadn’t.
Mom’s tongue had begun to cramp when she’d realized she needed to change things up. Her assault on Cynthia’s clit wasn’t having the desired response, and so she’d switched to her hand.
When Mom had slipped two fingers into Cynthia’s cunt, she’d nearly lost it. Cynthia had gasped and moaned, her hips gyrating against Mom’s hand, but she still hadn’t come. My mother—presumably doing what she liked—had maintained a steady rhythm, pumping her fingers in and out of Cynthia’s pussy, curling them as she did.
Despite being as turned on as she’d ever been, Cynthia had resisted. My sister had moaned and writhed under Mom’s hand, but she’d managed to hold on. She’d refused to give in to the pleasure, refused to let herself cum, no matter how much she wanted it.
Mom had continued for hours, pumping her fingers inside her daughter, licking her clit, reaching up to tweak the sensitive nipples of Cynthia’s huge teats. Twice, she’d stopped to make out with her daughter, stroking Cynthia’s hair, sucking and biting on her neck, doing all she could to get her off.
She’d done everything right—Cynthia had told me later that her technique was impeccable, her skills bringing her to the brink of orgasm again and again.
And when she’d finally succeeded, it had been a fluke more than anything. She’d been about to give up—her arm was aching, her fingers had wrinkled from being inside my sister for so long, and despite Cynthia being a seeming endless well of liquid arousal, she knew that she was reaching diminishing returns.
It was that moment, the moment where Mom had began removing her fingers, that it had finally happened. The angle at which she retracted her hand had stimulated my sister in a way neither woman had expected, and she’d cum. Hard.
“Oh, fuck!” Cynthia had gasped, Mom’s hand being followed by a dribble of girl-cum, then a small flood our mother’s hand with moisture.
Mom had looked up at her, surprised by her sudden release, and then Cynthia had stared back at her, eyes wide with shock and guilt.
She’d failed. Mom had won again.
But it would be the last time.