Dad went on his way back to town, no doubt sated after our sexcapade that evening at the adult theater to celebrate my return from college. He had given two loads while taking four or five through a glory hole. I had taken three and shot two. Now home I followed my mom into the kitchen and there behind a wine bottle and a glass sat the last female in the world that I wanted to see at the time. It was Donna Jean from next door my lifelong flame since I was in the second grade.

I became aware of girls and love at a young age. My mother was a huge soap opera fan and then would watch “Afternoon Delights,” the romance movies on local television. On bad weather afternoons I would sit on the couch with her and be spellbinded by the interactions between men and women.

I identified with the men and yearned for the women. I’d say I was normal then, except that most boys my age were interested in anything but girls. I could tell you who all the pretty girls were at school. That was before I learned about things you could do with girls. In those days you weren’t likely to learn much from television.

Donna Jean Sullivan had always been the cutest in my class. But as we got deeper into elementary school I fell victim to the gravitational pull of her girlfriends, notwithstanding the fact that by the time we got to grade five she was a full head taller than me. Now, almost a decade later I had pulled even in height but had long given up the ghost because she was sent off to private school while I wallowed in the local public high school.

Thanks to my parents I became a sexual Ping-Pong ball in the meantime.

My sex life got off on the wrong foot when I got drawn into activities with my father. It started with viewing porn together and doing each other. Mom knew that Dad was queer for men and she found out about us fooling around. I was their only child and mother feared never having grandchildren so she did all she could to foster an interest in females, including actually teaching me hetero sex.

It was a joint effort, really. Mother constantly shamed dad, he became a cuckold, and in typical fashion she would occasionally stray. She began getting most of her jollies elsewhere. Elsewhere included me, and I can tell you it was great.

My father had served in the Royal Air Force during World War II as a mechanic on Spitfire fighter planes. He used to say that mom spit fire just like the famous airplane, but in my opinion she also breathed fire. She could heat a room simply with her presence. She was not striking in the classic sense but she had something. Her hair was the color of creosote usually worn up in some kind of bun and she had a warm, toothy smile with which she could be stingy. But with mom it was the eyes. They were narrow and deep set, and as she grew older she began to look more and more like the actress Kathleen Quinlan. By this time she was in her forties, but other than some bagginess and very subtle crow’s feet, she was still a vision and very appealing.

Mom was a wonderful lay and I credit her for keeping me from going completely gay. She rationalized our sex play as “mother’s love” and since she had didn’t have a husband to please (by then they were divorced) I became the recipient of her physical gifts.

Despite mom’s best efforts I still got into cock.

I was surprised that I reacted when I saw Donna. From my bedroom I would watch Donna in the backyard sunbathing every summer. I would often run to the window when I heard her voice through the walls. She would politely wave if she saw me and we would chit-chat at neighborhood functions but I never knew how to spark her. I was blessed to not feel shame about my bisexuality, partly because I was dad’s bitch, but also because I still acted like a normal kid. I just had little experience with women and by then I was in college and had the freedom to explore. I was playing with guys mainly at that time and since it was the 1970s I was having fun with sex like everyone else those days.

As I listened to dad confessing our transgressions I suspected that my night was not over. That was mom’s pattern. Anytime dad or I crossed the street she would unleash her body on us. But after this night’s adventure I wasn’t interested in any more sex. However, within ten minutes I had changed my mind. I was flummoxed by Donna’s presence but astute enough to realize that here was the potential to change the course of history.

Donna was a stone beauty. You would suspect that she had her hair coiffed in a French weave, but it was just naturally curly. Her face was essentially flawless. Everything was just right. She had incredibly dewy skin, pretty hands, a well-proportioned body, and happened to be wearing Birkenstock-like sandals—the style they wore those days—with the thin strip running vertical into a T-strap at the ankle. Since I have always had a foot fetish I care about the feet and hers’ were incredible.

“Donna here shares my disappointment that you have gone gay, Michael.” Mom got right down to the point, as always. I felt my face warm from flushing. Next came a shot of adrenaline.

“Mom, I’m not gay I’m bisexual.” I was hardly in the mood for being badgered especially in front of Donna. It was humiliating and I felt threatened along with utter embarrassment.

Donna’s eyes feigned concern. But I knew mom was just being her usual dramatic self.

“We’re not so sure.” Donna and I exchanged glances as mother continued. There was a hint of concern on her face, but mostly I saw compassion and a measure of understanding. This was no longer the 1950s and we lived in Chicago.

“And that’s OK, Mikey” Donna leaned forward and touched my hand.

“How does she know?” I responded with an inquisitive look and a hard stare at mom.

“She has always wondered why you have never asked her out.”

Donna raised her eyebrows and smiled sweetly in agreement. I immediately felt my heart slow and my hand stop shaking. I caught my breath only after she gave my hand a gentle squeeze.

“She never showed any interest in me, mother.” I was barely able to get those words because I choked up and tears began to drop. I grabbed a Kleenex and dabbed my eyes.

She moved in closer, slid her hand up my arm, and softly murmured: “I got very interested in you when I learned you like to suck cock.” Time stopped momentarily as she continued to peer into my eyes, transfixing me, until I was finally able to pull off her eyes and bow my head and collect my thoughts. The words “suck cock” coming out of that sweet mouth was a shocker.

“When did you find out...How did you find out?”

“This afternoon, your mother was certain that if you were going out with your father there would be sex. She told me all about you two.” She appeared to be warming.

“What’s it to you, Donna?”

“Michael, I love you. I have always loved you” Hearing those words brought more tears to my eyes. She paused and then her words took on an empathetic tone.

“And…I also love your mother.”

“Since when have you loved my mother?”

“Since I was a little girl.” They moved into our neighborhood when I was around seven. After that declaration she leaned to the right and planted a kiss on mom’s lips. It was not just a peck or a social buss. It was a lover’s kiss. Its duration alone spoke of physical involvement. I started doing calculations in my mind. Not only was mom sleeping with me, but she had managed to seduce Donna—who knows when or how?

Their lips eventually parted and almost in sync they turned their eyes to me. By then nothing my mom did surprised me, but Donna? She managed to seduce Donna?

“There is no reason why you have to be just one way or another.” I really wasn’t proud of my twisted sexuality at nineteen so her expression of acceptance rang hollow.

I shook my head in disbelief and extended open palms: “Mom how could you?”

“And how could you not only fool around with your father in our house but take part in his wild adventures with other men in public places?”

“Sex is good, Michael.

And it’s great fun.” She then sidled over to me and slid onto my lap. “I now want to have sex with you…tonight.” Her eyes locked first onto my left eye, then my right. Powerless I gave in.

She then stuck her tongue down my throat and grabbed my crotch. I was hard again.

“Holy Shit!” She turned to mom and said, “Julia, I can tell he’s got a nice cock.”

“Oh, it’s very nice isn’t it? I told you so, sweetie” Then she came over and in a wink they both were working my junk. “Too bad he wastes it on men.”

By then Donna had extricated my pulsating meat and it was standing hard and engorged.

“Oh this is perfect,” she cooed with a smile as her hand fondled me and her eyes consumed my turgid member. Then she took the dive.

Oh My God. My head went back in the chair, but I forced my eyes to open just to confirm that the girl of my dreams was now actually sucking my cock. And she was really sucking it. Meanwhile mom had taken off her bra and was presenting her left breast.

“Here you go Michael, suck mom’s tit like I taught you.”

It occurred to me that we needed to call a halt to this scene out in the kitchen.

“Hey, you guys the window is open. Somebody could see us. Besides, this chair is hurting my back.”

“C’mon kids, let’s go to the bedroom, “said mother just like any mom would shoo their kids off to their rooms after dinner.

Donna tore ahead and by the time mom and I had traipsed in she was naked on the bed with lust in her eyes and her shapely legs splayed. At the Y was a soft tuft of light brown fur that couldn’t hide the magnificent contours of pussy. Like everything else about Donna it was a work of art. No, better. Not even Michelangelo could have created a pubis like hers. In an age when many beautiful women were sporting some pretty nasty bushes, Donna’s was sculpted and trimmed.

I had essentially hopped to the bedroom since my pants had remained stuck around my ankles. I quickly doffed the rest of my clothes and came to her in what even for me a very loving and sensitive way. Having had two orgasms within the last four hours I was freed from my usual breathless urgency. It was all quite heavenly, despite the fact that my mom was sitting the whole time in the side chair observing us with her right hand in her panties and her left hand caressing her erect left nipple. I heard her muttering things I couldn’t decipher until her breathing became audible and stifled the chatter. A few seconds later she gasped and moaned. Experience told me she was having an orgasm. By then my mouth had found its way to Donna’s vulva and my tongue was in so deep it was beginning to stretch the muscles under my tongue.

Once I retired to her clitoris Donna began a series of quick in-breaths and started pounding the bed while simultaneously raising her torso. She let loose with a copious amount of cream followed immediately by an audible squish of some kind. And from it another torrent of sweetness cascaded down on my tongue.

In the meantime mom had been, unfelt by me, gentling caressing my ass. I eventually felt her rooting around back there once she inserted her finger.

“What no dick in your ass tonight?”

Talk about a buzz killer.

“Mother, what the fuck?” I turned around, Donna peering over my shoulder, both of us irritated.

“Your hole is tight tonight, son. You must not have gotten fucked.”

“That’s right I didn’t, so what.”

“I’m surprised, that’s all. Now you two go back to your sweet lovemaking and mother will just watch.”

Donna was very sweet in the way she brought me back. I fell back into her upraised arms while she deftly positioned her pussy so that my cock could find its own way into her molten honey pot. And as I was entering the gates of Heaven I was reminded that vaginas are the preferred path to ecstasy because with anal intercourse once you get past the sphincter muscles you’re in the open rectum where the pipe is sometimes wider than your dick. In a vagina the entire length of your organ is caressed. The heat from complete immersion, the friction (or lack of it) provided by those velvet walls basted with lubricant, and the other accoutrements of love usually made it challenging to resist nature’s imperative: the ejaculation of sperm-dense semen in the quest to propagate.

I know I heard mom cum one more time and Donna popped a couple of times as my abdominals and glutes worked their rhythmic and powerful magic, all the while my nostrils inhaled the intoxicating aroma of Ciara, Donna’s fragrance of choice.

Though enraptured by this love dance I thought I heard the dresser drawer being opened. I wondered if mom was pulling out a pair of her underpants, which she knew I liked to wear. I half hoped she’d gone into the closet. It was there she kept her beautiful high-heels which I would have welcomed as a prop, either on my feet or Donna’s. Mom and my sex play often included my wearing her pumps or panties, which never failed to arouse me. In fact, the first time I sneaked into her closet mom caught me naked (except for her stiletto shoes) sporting a high hard erection.

Despite my attempts to manage my energy expenditure by dropping down to a slow, circular grind with long deep strokes I began to fatigue after about 20 minutes. Despite pushing and squeezing my rectus muscles I couldn’t get close to an orgasm. Honestly, I was surprised because Donna was parrying every move I made and every bit as blissed out as I.

I became desperate to avoid going soft inside my beloved Donna Jean and with it the risk of disappointing her somehow. And by then mom had started saying things like “Cum, Michael, cum baby,” and “don’t make Donna sore.”

Then mom swung into action.

She scrambled on to the bed, by now naked herself, and deftly spread my ass cheeks. I felt her slather the cleft with a cool liquid and immediately felt something poke my asshole. Even readers whose anal penetrations have been limited to a doctor’s finger(s) know that such an invasion sets off a series of involuntary reactions.

No sooner had the bulbous head of “Big Pete,” as she called her strap-on, transected my empty prostate I got the feeling again. The feeling is the tingle at the base of your spine that marks the prodrome of an orgasm. This time I went rigid as the peristalsis began. My body had to dig deep for something to discharge.

The great intensity of my third climax of the night left me totally spent and dead weight in the arms of Donna Jean. Undaunted mom kept wailing away on my ass, sort of whooping it up as her soft abdomen slapped against my ass, almost oblivious to my having cum and collapsed.

I turned to her and said: “Mom it’s over. I finally came.”

“I know, Michael. Now move off and let me lick her clean.” She wasted no time assuming the position. As Donna hitched back to the headboard and lifted her legs mother seemed to come in low enough to get to the vaginal opening and perineum right away.

“Mom, I don’t think I had much to give her.”

“You had some, Michael, I can taste it. I know the taste of cum…especially yours.”

Then it became my turn to watch while she slurped that cum cocktail. I slumped into the chair. Once she seemed to get it all she moved her attentions northward to Donna’s swollen clitoris and before our young beauty was grabbing the sheets, curling her toes, and working up to another orgasm.

I stretched out and played around with my cock while feasting on the scene. Despite my mom’s wanton behavior and Donna’s lascivious responses I failed to raise another hard-on. Eventually a solution dawned on me. I stood up and headed for the closet. There, in their usual place were those gold lame high-heels I had loved for years. I slipped them on and before I could sashay back to that side chair my penis was back in the ready position.