The Maenad

INTRODUCTION

Confession: My name is Jeremy. I'm nineteen years old. I'm a sexual hypocrite but I'm trying to get over it.

Dedication: I dedicate this writing to the three most depraved women I know: my mother, my aunt and my sister. I know they'll take that as a compliment. And I really mean it that way.

Note: My mother, Christine, my sister, Lisa, and my aunt, Linda, have all read this. They've added comments in a few places.

~

WHAT HAPPENED FIRST

This will be difficult.

Take a deep breath.

OK. Here goes. Dive in.

The first thing you need to know is that I grew up in an ordinary family. Until I was eighteen everything was absolutely normal. Nobody swore. Nobody talked about sex. Nobody walked round the house naked. Nobody rubbed semen in anybody's face.

My upbringing had all the sexual reservations and repressions that you'd naturally expect.

There are four of us: my Dad, my Mum, my sister Lisa, and me. Mum's forty-four and Dad's forty-six. Dad's an architect and Mum's a corporate lawyer at a big bank in the City.

Lisa's four years older than me. She's studying at a teaching hospital. She should be a qualified doctor in a couple of years' time. Oh, and Aunt Linda's a lecturer. She teaches classics. She's never been married. She lives in North London, but she often stays with us, south of the river. She and Mum have always been close.

And me? I'm a student. I'm doing Literature and Linguistics at Newcastle, which everybody tells me is a waste of time. But I like it. There's no problem there.

If you do the sums, you'll work out that my mother had Lisa when she was quite young. That meant she had to drop out of university for a couple of years, but she went back afterwards and got her law degree. Then she had me and slogged through her bar exams while she was bringing the two of us up. She's an impressive woman.

And Dad's impressive too. They both managed to juggle work and family so they could have kids early and still have successful careers. And it worked. They made it. They'd made it perfectly, in fact, until I'd just turned 18 — when Dad announced that he was leaving home for good.

The news came right out of the blue for me. Lisa seemed to know something about it already, but it knocked me sideways.

They told us together, sitting round the table one night after dinner. Dad said he was moving out and Mum said that was right. He said he'd found himself a flat and they were working on a divorce. They both looked grim but they were very self-controlled — coolly polite to each other and very businesslike. They told us they loved us equally and that we'd be able to spend as much time as we wanted with both of them. And they kept their word on that — though Lisa didn't have much to do with Dad after he left. She seemed to blame him for the split. She didn't explain why, though.

A couple of days after it happened, when Dad had gone, I asked Lisa if he'd been having an affair. She did a sort of double-take and then she said: 'No way!' and she looked at me as if I was retarded for thinking it. So then I asked her why they'd split up and she just went quiet. I asked her if it was Mum — was Mum having an affair? — and she thought about that for a while. Then she said: 'No. It's about sex but it's not what you think. It's nothing like what you think.' And that was all I could get out of her.

[LISA: I felt sorry for Jeremy. He was the only one who was in the dark about what was going on. But I'd promised Mum I wouldn't say anything, so I didn't.]

*****

The first few months after Dad left felt weird. It was as if everyone had gone their separate ways. I was still at home with Mum, because I was studying for my final school exams in the summer, but Lisa had gone to live with Aunt Linda. Dad's new flat was in North London too, quite a way from where we live in Dulwich. I stayed at Mum's during the week and then I'd go to Dad's place for Friday and Saturday night. I never felt completely settled anywhere.

But I was with my mother more than anybody else. We'd been used to a bustling, lively family life, and now there were just the two of us, rattling about in a big house. I felt a bit responsible for Mum — I mean, I realised she was going through a lot, getting divorced and so on, but I was only eighteen and I didn't actually know how to talk about it. I tried to talk to her about Dad a couple of times — I wanted them to get back together, after all — but she wouldn't have it. She just clammed up. And she wouldn't explain what had gone wrong between them, any more than Lisa would.

After a few weeks, I felt cooped up with her — and maybe she felt the same about me. So I did what a lot of blokes would do, I suppose. I stayed in my room a lot. I did study a little — which was what I told her I was doing — but I spent most of the time masturbating at my computer, looking at porn. She must have realised, but she didn't say anything. I got a bit sullen, too; uncommunicative, anyway. We met at meal times, mostly. She'd try to make conversation and I'd grunt back. I knew I was doing it, and I knew it was wrong, but I couldn't stop. After a while, a lot of meals went by in silence.

And now I'll tell you my guilty secret — well, one of them anyway. I started having sex fantasies about my mother. I'd fantasized about Aunt Linda ever since I started to masturbate, but now the fantasies began to include my mother as well.

I need to tell you about Aunt Linda first. She's the proverbial sexy aunt, you see. I know it's a cliché, but she is. I don't mean she's a glamour model or anything, but she is attractive. She's a few years younger than Mum; she keeps herself in shape; she's tall for a woman and quite athletic; she's warm-hearted and funny, and she wiggles her bum when she walks. Her hair's dark brown — like my mum's — and she has one of those funny-sexy faces. She smiles a lot. When I was younger, I always felt there was something deeply erotic in her smile — something just for me. It was as if there was an exciting, gleeful secret that she was going to tell me any minute. So I used to masturbate over her a lot, and I'd fantasize that she knew what I was doing — that she was watching me, in fact. You know the kind of thing. I never told her about it, of course. I imagined she just knew.

As I grew up, though, I got more and more uncomfortable with her. Whenever I met her, I got an erection — especially when she smiled at me. It became almost impossible to talk to her. It was hard enough just to stop myself staring.

I kept pictures of her on my computer as well. Even fully clothed she was my favourite when I was playing with myself.

[LINDA: Oh, the sweet, innocent boy! Of course I knew he masturbated over me. You could see that stiffy from a mile away. And he was so deliciously bashful!]

Anyway, after Dad left, Mum crept into those fantasies. I'd be masturbating and thinking about Aunt Linda, and Mum would suddenly be there too. I'd imagine them doing really filthy things to each other. Do you know what I mean? I don't just mean licking each others' pussies or frigging each other off. I mean really dirty stuff, like kissing each other up the bum, or peeing on each other and then making love in the mess. I'd seen those things in porno films, of course, but I didn't really plan to put my mum and Linda in that kind of scenario. It just happened. A filthy image would pop into my mind, and I'd try to stop it — but the more I tried to repress it, the kinkier the picture became. So eventually I'd cum, and then I'd lie there, sticky, telling myself what a dirty bastard I was to imagine my mother doing anything like that. I disgusted myself, in fact — but I got off on being disgusted, so the fantasies didn't stop.

You're probably curious about what Mum looks like. It's difficult to describe her, but I know it's important, so I'll try.

To start with, she's not a glamour model either. She looks like what she is: a woman in her mid-forties.

She's shorter than Aunt Linda — I suppose she's average height and build. She wears her hair in a sort of bob, swept back behind the ears. It's wavy and thick, though, and a lovely reddish-brown. I like it. I always have.

Mum exercises quite a lot, and you'd never call her fat, but there's a sort of solidness about her — a thickness at the waist. To be honest, I've often wanted to grab her by the hips and pull her to me. Her bum is really nice. You can see the globes of her buttocks outlined through her trousers sometimes when she bends down. She doesn't exude sex as obviously as Aunt Linda does, but it's there if you look for it.

[LISA: You can tell Jeremy likes bottoms, can't you?]

[LINDA: Yes, dear. But don't we all!]

I ought to say something about Mum's eyes as well, because they're special. They're brown and they're usually serious; she doesn't smile much. When she does smile, it's like a special treat. Her face lights up. When she's serious, though, she has a very direct gaze — almost too direct for me sometimes, and I'm her son. When she looks at me like that, it's as if she's challenging me. It's as if she's saying: 'I'll be completely honest with you, if you'll be just as honest with me.' Sometimes, she seems to bore right into me — right through me, in fact.

[CHRISTINE: He makes me sound terrifying!] [

LINDA: Well you are sometimes, Chris, you know.]

I wouldn't say Mum's outgoing, exactly — not as outgoing as Aunt Linda, anyway. But she certainly isn't shy. I suppose I'd call her reserved. Or private, maybe. She's the kind of person who keeps her secrets to herself. She only tells you what she wants you to know. That's probably why she's such a successful lawyer.

There's another word I should probably add. She's combative. She doesn't back down from a fight. That probably helps with being a lawyer as well.

Now I need to tell you some more about what it was like living at home with Mum, and about my constant masturbation.

I didn't know if Aunt Linda really knew I masturbated, but I knew Mum knew. She couldn't possibly have missed it, since our bedrooms were next to each other. She used to put my dirty laundry in the washing machine as well, so she must have smelled the evidence. She never mentioned masturbation to me, though. It was like an open secret. I knew she knew and I knew she knew I knew, but it was an 'invisible' topic for us, if you know what I mean. We never talked about it, so it didn't exist. Except that it did, of course.

This state of affairs went on for some time — all the way through the summer to early autumn, until about three weeks before I was due to travel up to Newcastle, to university. And then there was one tiny moment that upset our delicate equilibrium.

I'd been out of the house for a while one day. When I came home, I went straight upstairs, and I met Mum coming out of my room, carrying an overflowing laundry basket. She had a broad smile on her face and a twinkle in her eye. When she saw me, she winked. I hadn't seen her looking so happy for ages, and it puzzled me a bit. But when I stepped into my room I suddenly understood. My computer was still on — and, yes! I remembered I hadn't turned it off — and there was a full-size porno picture on the screen that, yes! — oh, God no — I'd forgotten to close before I went out. As I realised those things I blushed and froze. I really did. Knowing my mother had seen that picture was like a kick in the guts. Or right in the balls!

I might have felt better if it had just been a soft-core pic — a bikini girl, perhaps, or even a tasteful nude. I think I could have toughed that out with Mum. But this girl was anything but tasteful. She was honey-blonde and golden, and she was kneeling on a sofa with her knickers down round her thighs and her pink bits on open display. And the most embarrassing thing of all was that she had a shiny red plastic plug stuck right up her bum. That's what mortified me. I couldn't bear the thought of Mum knowing that I liked that kind of porn — you know, anal. (But I did, of course. I loved that picture with a passion.)

Now, I know what you're thinking. I told you my mother looked happy as she came out of my room. She winked at me. So you think, OK, she'd probably seen the picture, and she'd had a good laugh at it, maybe, but that was no reason for me to get terminally embarrassed. In fact, it might have been a good thing in the long run: a chance to clear the air between us and be more open about sex.

And that's very sane of you. I even thought it myself as I sat there in my room, going over the whole mess in my mind. Yes, I knew Mum had seen the picture, and, no, she hadn't screamed or shouted or gone crazy — and, no, she didn't seem to mind at all. But I still felt embarrassed. Because now everything was finally out in the open. Knowing she'd seen that picture was like having confessed to her directly — like looking her straight in the eye and saying: 'I masturbate a lot, Mum — I mean, a lot! And about some really filthy things.'

Let me put it another way. It wasn't the fact that she was being tolerant about the picture that was important. It was the fact that I felt reduced in some sense in my mother's eyes. I felt deeply humiliated, in fact, and I couldn't shake the feeling off. It had nothing to do with thinking or logic. My embarrassment was much more powerful than any thoughts I tried to use to control it.

I avoided Mum most of the rest of that day, but I had to go downstairs in the evening for dinner. We were eating in the kitchen now, because there were just the two of us. When I went in she still looked happy. She was at the stove, cooking. She grinned at me and told me to sit down. There was a plate of salad on the table. I ate it. Then I just stared into space. I avoided her eyes. Mum tried to make small-talk. I didn't answer. I mean, I didn't say anything. I couldn't even grunt, I felt so embarrassed.

There was something I was dreading, you see. I thought that, at any moment, she was going to say something about 'the picture of the girl you've got on your computer screen upstairs — you know, the one with the plug up her bottom.' I didn't know exactly what she'd say, but I knew if she mentioned the picture in any way at all it would make my status as a chronic masturbator irrevocably official. I was terrified.

In fact, Mum didn't talk about the picture. But her mood changed completely as soon as she saw what a state I was in. When I finally snatched a glance at her, she looked worried and hurt. Her deep brown eyes had gone very serious. It was like the sun going in behind a cloud.

It was obvious she was going to try to help me, and I dreaded it. When she brought the next course to the table, she put the plate down in front of me and then laid a hand on my shoulder. She gave it a squeeze. I flinched away. I couldn't help myself. And Mum said: 'Oh!' with a sudden numbed, flat tone in her voice that I'd never heard before — as if I'd broken some kind of link with her.

That flinch destroyed everything between us.

There was a silence. I could feel it pressing down on me like a — I don't know. Like a heavy weight. Like a pillow full of lead feathers.

Then Mum said: 'It doesn't matter, Jeremy. Really. It really doesn't matter.' And she sounded horribly disappointed ... and weary. As if she'd given up on something.

That's when I stood up and walked quickly and stiffly out of the kitchen, leaving the meal she'd just cooked steaming on the table. I didn't try to hide my embarrassment. I just had to get away.

Was I wrong to run like that? Of course I was. But I couldn't help myself. I was so gripped by the humiliation I couldn't even look at my own mother.

*****

The next morning, I got up early and announced that I was going to stay at Dad's place for a while. Mum hardly said anything. She just nodded. I threw a few things into a bag and I was gone within the hour.

I stayed at Dad's flat for almost three weeks. He didn't ask any questions. We got on fine. I don't think I would have gone back to Mum's house at all, but I had to pick up my stuff to take to Newcastle. So the day before I was due to leave London, I dragged myself back home.

I'd calmed down a bit in the meantime. I didn't feel quite so paralyzed by shame as I had when I'd left. So when I let myself into the house in Dulwich I was feeling only a little bit nervous about seeing Mum again, and only a little bit guilty about having stayed away so long. I was basically OK.

She wasn't around when I got there. I made myself a coffee in the kitchen, then I wandered into the living room and plonked myself down on the sofa. I noticed a magazine on the coffee table — just one magazine, placed neatly in the middle, carefully lined up to be square with the table's edges. I glanced at it idly, wondering when Mum would be back. And then I got a shock — a jolt of pure excitement that hit my balls and bowels hard at the exact same instant. The magazine was porn! Not soft porn — not the kind of thing you see on the top shelf in a newsagent's. This was the real thing — a thick, glossy, kinky, Swedish mag full of cock-sucking and buggery and lipstick and ejaculation. All in full and vibrant colour.

But after that first shock I was puzzled. For a second — for just one dizzy, guilt-ridden second — I'd thought the magazine was mine: something I'd left in my room that my mother had ferreted out and left on the table as a silent accusation, maybe. But it wasn't mine. I'd never seen this particular magazine before. I was completely innocent of the crime.

It was weird that it was there. It made my head spin. Of course, I riffled through it — and it lived up to all my expectations. I was tempted to take it straight up to my room and start using it for the purpose it had been designed for, but I smelled a rat. Was this a trap? If I took the mag and Mum came home and saw it was gone, I'd be caught red-handed. She'd know I'd taken it. She'd know I was using it.

I decided I couldn't risk it, so I left the mag where I'd found it, almost untouched.

Mum came home about an hour later, and I called to her to let her know I was there. When she came into the room she smiled at me vaguely, but she didn't seem all that pleased to see me. I said hello. I stammered a bit, I remember. I'd planned to be cool about the magazine, to chat about other things before I brought the subject up, but I couldn't. Seeing it lying there in plain sight was just too weird. I felt guilty and ashamed, even though I had nothing to be ashamed about. In the end, I just blurted it out, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.

'Mum,' I said. 'What's that thing doing here?' And I pointed at the magazine.

And suddenly her expression changed. It was almost as if she'd become someone I'd never seen before. She looked wild. She said: 'What — this?' and waved a hand at it. Then, disdainfully dismissive: 'Oh, someone must have left it there.'

Those were her exact words. She didn't say who might have left it, and I couldn't think of anyone, apart from me, who'd bring hard-core pornography into our house. It was as if Mum just couldn't be bothered to answer — couldn't even be bothered to think of a half convincing lie to tell me. I just stared at her blankly. She picked the magazine up and opened it, idly scanning a few of the sexy-glossy pictures — thumbing through the dirt. I couldn't read her expression at all. Then she closed the magazine and thrust it in my face.

'Here, you have it,' she said fiercely. She almost hissed it at me. 'You like this kind of thing, don't you? Take it upstairs. Use it! Masturbate with it! Enjoy yourself!'

I didn't want to take it but she pushed it into my hand. Her pupils were dilated. Her face was flushed.

'Take the bloody thing, Jeremy!" she said. And then she stormed out of the room.

I did take it upstairs. I took it to my room and looked at every page. I got an erection. But I didn't masturbate. I had a strange sensation in the pit of my stomach — a weird mixture of excitement and fear. I was probably trembling. And I was totally confused about what had happened. I was trying to figure it out.

In the end, I thought I understood, though the explanation was weird. I thought Mum had been trying to make up for embarrassing me about the dirty picture I'd left on my computer. Perhaps this magazine was a peace-offering. Maybe, I thought, she'd borrowed the mag from a friend, or bought it through the Internet or something, and she'd left it lying around when she knew I'd come home and she wouldn't be there herself. (That was plausible, at least. I'd phoned in advance to let her know when to expect me.) So, maybe, I thought, I'd been supposed to bring the mag upstairs without saying anything about it to her. Maybe that's what she'd expected — what I ought to have done.

But if that was true, I'd really screwed things up by leaving it lying there in full view when Mum got home and asking her about it. Now I'd embarrassed her! So things were worse than ever.

I felt dreadful.

[CHRISTINE: That's really rather touching. But it's completely wrong, of course.]

*****

What happened next? Well, not much, beyond the obvious misery. We didn't talk again for the rest of the day. Actually, I did try to speak to Mum a couple of times but she just waved me away irritably. She gave me a meal in the kitchen in the evening but we ate in silence. The next day I got up early, said goodbye and left.

I masturbated a lot in that first term at Newcastle. I felt lonely a lot of the time — I don't make friends easily. I was homesick too. And the person I thought about most when I masturbated was my mother.

I phoned her a couple of times, but the conversations were always strained. She was coldly polite to me in the way she'd been polite to my father on the night they'd announced they were splitting up. I only phoned her to stop myself feeling guilty about not ringing her, but I felt even worse after I'd hung up. I once thought about masturbating while I was talking to her, but I didn't actually do it.

[CHRISTINE: That's odd - because there was a time when I wondered if he was wanking while we were on the phone. There was something odd about his voice. I wish he had been doing it. I was.]

I went back to London for a couple of weeks for Christmas, but I stayed with my father again. I might not have seen Mum at all, but Dad insisted I at least went to her house for Christmas lunch — he's very fair like that. So I dragged myself over there for the afternoon. Lisa and Aunt Linda were there as well, so it wasn't too bad really — but I felt excluded somehow. Nobody actually said anything directly, but I thought all three of them blamed me for not seeing more of Mum. Anyway, I got through the afternoon, and then I went back to Dad's place. I stayed there until the new term started, then I went up north again.

I didn't go back to London for the Easter break. I stayed in Newcastle. Then, at the start of the summer, I went off with two friends — I'd finally made some — for a trip round Wales. It was an all male affair — three smelly blokes in a tent. We'd planned to go for three weeks; we managed to last for one.

The main problem was the car. It was fifth or sixth hand and it broke down every other day. The final straw came when the sump sprang a leak and we had to spend a fortune to get it fixed on a wet Saturday night. By the time we'd paid for the parts and labour, we'd used up most of our money. So we decided to call it a day and go home.

I wanted to stay with Dad, but I knew he was abroad on business. So I had to go to Mum, even though I didn't want to. I tried to call her to let her know, but the battery in my phone was dead, and there was nowhere to recharge it.

(But maybe that was just an excuse to avoid ringing her. I suppose I could have borrowed a phone if I'd really wanted to. The other blokes had theirs.)

Anyway, that's why I arrived at Mum's house at about eight o'clock on Sunday evening, unannounced and almost penniless, and uncertain of my reception.

And that was the night that changed my life forever.

THE NIGHT

Thinking about what happened still gets to me. My stomach turns somersaults. I get a buzzing in my ears. What happened that night was the most wonderful, terrible event of my life.

Can an experience be wonderful and terrible at the same time? I think so. Yes.

What happened was this:

I let myself in at the front door and dropped my bag in the hall. I could hear the television in the living room. It was on quite loud. I went in there.

The room was in semi-darkness. There was a table lamp on in the far corner, but the only other sources of light were the television and the open door at the other end of the room - the door that led into the dining room.

I glanced at the TV — and then it gripped me.

There were four naked girls doing things to each other on the screen: doing things with fingers, lips and dildos. Doing all the wonderful, dirty, slippery things I loved.

I can't describe the shock I felt when I saw that! I won't try.

I don't know how long I stood there, staring at the screen. Not long, probably, though it felt like forever because time had expanded now. Slowed down, I mean.

My mouth went dry. My face got hot. My heart was beating fast and there was that buzzing in my ears. It was as if I was somewhere else, on some alien planet. It was as if I was going to faint.

It wasn't just the porno film, of course. It was the fact that it was on there, in my mother's living room! Something very weird was going on!

My cock got hard. I was instantly erect. I was instantly guilty, too. It was like the time with the magazine, but more so. It wasn't my porn I was watching — I hadn't brought it here. But I felt so wrong for watching it. As if, somehow, it was my fault.

And then, because I was afraid of being caught looking at the dirty film, I turned round. And what I saw was this:

On the sofa there were two figures, embracing. They were hugging each other tight. One was Aunt Linda. She had her back to me. The other, I realised, was Lisa. Her arms were wrapped tightly round Linda's back. They were kissing — kissing deeply. It was the kind of kiss that goes on forever. They obviously had their tongues in each others' mouths.

Linda was wearing a pale green summer dress. The hem had ridden up to expose her long, smooth thighs. Lisa was all in black: a black dress and black panties. I knew her panties were black because Aunt Linda's hand was down the front of them, inside, her fingers moving rhythmically.

Lisa's hips were bucking as the fingers moved.

Neither of them had heard me come in. I suppose the whimpering and moaning from the TV drowned everything else out. They didn't look up. Aunt Linda went on frigging Lisa as I stood there. I felt invisible. I was excited and appalled.

And then this happened:

My mother came in through the dining room door. She was grinning broadly. She said:

'Well, girls, I see you've started without me. Some-one's going to be punished for that, isn't she?'

And she shook something at them, mock-menacingly — a longish, pinkish thing she held in her left hand.

Then Mum saw me. Her face fell instantly. She just said: 'Oh!' It had that leaden, dull, flat tone I'd heard before, when she'd given up on me that time in the kitchen.

It was as if her balloon had been burst. As if a cold wind had blown in.

And I was the wind.

*****

The room became suddenly still, despite the noise from the TV. I looked at my mother and I saw the way she was dressed. My heart lurched. The air turned glassy. It only took a split second to take everything in, but it'll take much longer to describe it.

My mother was wearing a shiny black leather brassiere, with little silver studs along the top. It was cut deliberately low. It barely covered her nipples. It pushed her breasts up. Her cleavage was a deep shadow between them.

She was wearing a leather suspender belt, too — also black. She was wearing black stockings. And she was wearing shiny, black, spike-heeled shoes.

But she wasn't wearing anything else. No panties. The suspender belt, the suspenders and her stocking tops framed her exposed sex: a little patch of dark hair above and the naked shadowed groove below it. I could see she shaved herself down there. My mother shaved down there!

As I said, I took all this in in an instant. I'd seen exactly that 'look' in fetish sites online — a bra, suspender belt and stockings exposing a naked quim. My mother had dressed up as a pornographic fantasy! My mother!

I looked at the thing in her hand — the thing she'd waved at the other two. It was long and thick and pink, with a blunted end — a heavy plastic object with complicated straps hanging from it. I knew what it was now. I recognised it with a lurch of excitement and terror. My mother was carrying a strap-on dildo.

Aunt Linda and Lisa on the sofa hadn't noticed me. Linda's hand was still moving inside Lisa's pants, like a restless animal moving in a pouch. Lisa was whimpering and gasping. But that last flat 'Oh' from my mother gradually penetrated the haze of sex that enveloped them. I saw Linda's hand become still, and Lisa gave a mew of disappointment. Then Linda broke their kiss and slowly — very slowly — turned her head. She saw me, and a moment later Lisa opened her eyes and looked at me too. For a second they were frozen — fixed like that, both staring at me. Then Linda carefully drew her hand out of Lisa's panties.

But neither of them spoke. They simply stared.

So now I was the centre of attention, pinned by three pairs of eyes, like a rabbit in three headlight beams.

I'd caught them, hadn't I? I'd caught them in some kind of perverted orgy — just like the one still playing loudly on the TV.

But they didn't seem ashamed. They just stared at me accusingly. And I realised, once and for all, that I really shouldn't be there in the house.

That I was at fault for coming. That I was an intruder.

I realised that, somehow, they'd caught me.

My face was very hot. I looked at Mum and ducked my head. I stammered: 'Sorry. I ought to go.' And I turned and shambled awkwardly towards the door.

But Mum shouted: 'Stop! Stay where you are, Jeremy! Come back here immediately!'

So I stopped in my tracks and turned round. I was trembling with embarrassment. I was vibrating with lust. My cock was hard. I knew it was obvious. I knew she could see. I could hardly look at her.

Mum snapped the overhead light on and suddenly everything was brightly, cruelly lit. She picked up the remote from the coffee table and muted the sound on the TV. The glowing, pink-blonde girls continued to moan and penetrate each other, but silently.

Then Mum snapped: 'Sit down. Sit over there.' And she pointed to an armchair.

I did as I was told. I sat down on it.

Mum took a couple of steps towards me. She was still holding the strap-on dildo. She was slapping it hard against the palm of her right hand. The straps swung and jiggled every time she did it.

When she was only a couple of feet away from me, she said:

'How dare you try to run away again!'

She slapped the dildo against her palm repeatedly, to emphasize the words.

Her face was wild. There was so much anger in it — but she was somehow also on the edge of tears.

'How dare you!' she repeated with a hint of a sob, still slapping her palm with the dildo.

I blushed and turned my head away. I couldn't look.

She came at me like a tiger, lunging towards me and grabbing my jaw hard with her free hand — pinching my mouth together.

She dragged my head round, to force me to meet her eyes.

'Look at me!' she shouted. 'Bloody well look at me!'

Then: 'I will not let you spoil this, Jeremy! I will not!' she said.

And Aunt Linda said softly, but very urgently, from across the room: 'You're going to have to face up to a lot of things quickly now, Jeremy. You really are.'

I nodded dumbly, still held in my mother's grip. I was completely baffled. And afraid. My bowels turned liquid.

Then Aunt Linda said: 'Chris. Don't be too hard on him. This is a big shock for the boy, and he doesn't know anything, does he?'

Mum let go of me and took a step back. She was breathing very hard.

'No, I suppose not,' she admitted. 'But — oh!'

And she threw the dildo down hard on the coffee table — so hard that it bounced and fell on the floor. There was pure rage there.

'I will not give up on tonight!' said Mum. 'I won't sacrifice this! I've been so desperate for it! I won't let Jeremy and his hyper-sensitivity get in the way!

'I won't let him fuck up my life!'

The words echoed in my head. I don't think I'd ever heard my mother swear before. The meaning sank in slowly. I was hyper-sensitive, was I? I was fucking up her life? I'd never known.

'No,' said Aunt Linda, soothingly. 'I want to go on with it too. We must, darling. And there's no reason why Jeremy shouldn't ...' Her voice trailed off. Then:

'But you'll have to explain it to him, Chris. You'll have to tell him what's been going on.'

Mum went to the other armchair and dragged it closer to me. She swung it round so it faced my own chair, then she sat down. She sat unselfconsciously on the edge of the seat, with her legs apart, leaning forward, her hands braced on her thighs. I found myself staring at her exposed vagina — at her centre. I couldn't help myself.

'Linda's right,' she said, roughly. 'It's not your fault. Not really. I just wish you weren't so bloody wet when it comes to sex.'

I stared at her, astonished. It was all I could do.

And Lisa said: 'Jeremy, Mum's going to tell you something important. It'll come as a shock, but you must listen. And if you listen properly, it'll help a lot. It's wonderful really.'

She smiled. She sounded very calm, like the doctor she was going to be, in her surgery with a patient.

Mum was staring at me. She followed my gaze downwards, between her legs. Then she put her hand down there and groped herself. Deliberately. Crudely. Obviously.

She took the hand away so I could see.

'What's this, Jeremy?' she asked, pointing to her slit.

I protested weakly. 'Mum,' I said, 'I don't want to ...'

'Tell me what it is,' she hissed.

'It's your ... It's your vagina ...' I told her.

She laughed — an explosion of scorn.

'Is that what they call it on the porn sites you visit? A vagina? Do the girls say: "Come on, you big stud, put your penis in my vagina?" Is that it?'

Mum grinned at me fiercely.

'It isn't a fucking vagina! It's a cunt! It's my cunt! Say it! What are you looking at?'

I swallowed hard. 'At your c-cunt, Mum,' I said, my voice shaking.

'That's right,' said Mum. 'Exactly. You're staring at my cunt. And you like it, don't you? But that's all right, Jeremy — it's perfectly all right. Because I like it too. Do you understand that? I like it very, very much that you're staring at my cunt.

'And I wish you'd been able to see it a long time ago.'

She put her hand down there again then, back between her legs, and inserted two fingers into it — into her cunt.

She gave a deep grunt of satisfaction. It was shockingly crude.

She moved her fingers in and out, plunging them in deep, beyond the knuckles, then drawing them out almost to the fingertips.

'So now you're watching me fuck myself, aren't you?' She smiled at me - but it wasn't a friendly smile.

'I've been doing this for months and months,' she said. 'Ever since your father left. Before that, in fact. When the girls weren't here, this was all I had.'

She pulled the fingers out of herself and held her hand up. 'This and my sex toys', she said. 'Do you know how much I masturbate, Jeremy?'

I shook my head.

'At least four times a day. I've counted. Sometimes it's ten times. It has been more.

'So what do you think? Do you think I like sex? Do you think I need it?'

'Yes,' I said, obediently, trying desperately to placate her. 'Yes. I think you need it, Mum.'

She held the fingers that had been inside her out to me, underneath my nose.

'Sniff them,' Jeremy,' she said. 'That's the smell of cunt. The smell of my cunt when it's hot and wet. Isn't it exciting? Isn't it sexy?'

It was like an assault in my open nostrils. I'd never smelt that scent before. It was wild, raw musk with a hint of rank fish in it. It was intoxicating. It went straight to my brain like a drug. It went straight to my cock. It was a scent to drive me mad.

'Tell him, Chris,' said Aunt Linda. 'Tell him quickly.'

But Mum leaned forward and pushed those two fingers between my lips, into my mouth.

'Taste my fucking cunt!' she said. 'Tell me it's beautiful!'

I nearly gagged on those fingers. When she pulled them out, I drew an enormous, shivering breath. Then I said:

'Yes. Your cunt is beautiful, Mum.'

She sat back in her chair, apparently satisfied.

'OK. Now that we've got that clear, I can tell you the story.

'Are you ready, Jeremy?' she asked. 'Are you ready for Listen with Mother?'

I nodded dumbly. It seemed to be enough.

'The first thing you need to know,' she said, 'is that Linda and I have been lovers for ... well, for a long time. We were having each other before I met your father. In fact, the night I met him, we were together and he had us both. Or we had him, I should say. I was at university, at a party. Linda was visiting. We took him home and ravished him. He loved it.

'So, your father wasn't averse to a little ... incest then.' She hissed the word, like a snake on the attack. 'It turned him on,' she said, 'having two kinky sisters.

'But after we got married, after Lisa arrived, he got a bit repressed. Or responsible. Whatever you want to call it.

'He couldn't stop me having sex with my sister, but he wanted the children kept out of it. It had to be a secret. We had lots of rows about it, but in the end, I gave in. I agreed.

'We said we wouldn't tell either of you about my sex life until you were eighteen. That's a long time to keep a secret. But I did it.'

'It was horrible,' said Aunt Linda. 'All that skulking about. Having to hide from the two of you every time we wanted to have some fun. Being furtive all the time.'

'And that's why your upbringing was so bloody repressed,' Mum said. 'That's why we never said the word 'sex' in front of you. That's why you never saw us naked. That's why we never even told a dirty joke while you were around.

'I'd promised your father and I kept my promise. It was like a contract. Do you understand?'

I nodded.

'I kept my promise,' Mum repeated. 'I didn't tell Lisa anything until she was eighteen.'

She turned to Lisa. 'Did I?'

Lisa smiled.

'Tell him what happened next,' said Mum — and Lisa took up the story.

'You told me on the phone,' she said, 'because I was staying at Aunt Linda's house at the time.'

'We thought that would be best,' Mum said. 'To give you a bit of distance from me, in case you took it badly.'

'But you didn't know I was already gay,' said Lisa, and she chuckled. She glanced at me: 'Well, pretty much, anyway,' she added. 'But you know, Jeremy, it'll be alright if you ... You know, if you want to ...

She looked at me with wide, direct, serious eyes and another jolt of shame and lust went through me. It was like an electric shock.

'Anyway,' she went on, 'after Mum told me she'd been doing it with Aunt Linda all the time I'd been growing up, I said I needed some time to think. And that night I had a really long chat with Linda. And that was the first time she had me.'

She glanced at Aunt Linda beside her and smiled. 'And it was wonderful,' she said fondly. She put her hand on Linda's and squeezed.

'So then we both phoned Mum,' Lisa went on. 'And the next weekend she came over to Linda's place. And they both had me together. A lot.'

Lisa grinned. It was the same ferocious grin I'd seen on Mum's face.

'And that,' Lisa said emphatically, 'was even more wonderful than the first time with Linda on her own. It was fabulous. You've no idea what it's like to have two lovely women working on you. Especially when they're your aunt and your mother.'

'But you could find out,' said Aunt Linda — and she grinned at me too. Ferociously. She actually bared her teeth. She looked as if she wanted to eat me.

[LISA: It was a shock when Mum told me on the phone. Because she didn't just tell me about her having sex with Aunt Linda. She said she wanted me as well. Wanted me sexually. I didn't know how I felt at first. To start with, I just didn't believe what she'd said. I thought I'd misunderstood her. But I felt this deep stab of excitement, all the same — a hard pang deep down in my pussy. I tried to push the idea away. I was upset. It took Linda a long time to calm me down. But she was so sweet. And within a few hours she had her mouth on my open cunt, and I was thinking about Mum, wondering how her mouth would feel down there. So it didn't take me long to come round to the idea, LOL.]

[CHRISTINE: Lisa, darling, I've told you before — that first night Linda and I made love to you in Linda's bed was the most erotic moment of my life! You were so adventurous! After the way I'd been forced to bring you up, I was afraid you'd be a passive flower in bed. But you aren't, are you darling? You know how happy I am when your face is between my thighs. I adore your tricky tongue! Your inventiveness!]

*****

Mum took up the story again. The room was very still.

'After I'd been to bed with Lisa, I told your father about it. And I told him we were going to keep on doing it. He wasn't happy — he was as angry as hell, in fact — so I reminded him about the contract. Lisa was eighteen now. She could make a free choice about her sex life, and she'd chosen Linda and me. It didn't make any difference, though. That's when things really went wrong between us.'

My mother looked down at the carpet for a moment. Lisa stood up and came over to stand beside her. She placed a hand on Mum's shoulder.

'Could you have done anything different, Mum?' she asked softly.

'No,' said Mum. 'Clive broke the agreement. It was his fault.'

'Tell Jeremy the rest of it,' Lisa said. So my mother went on with the story.

'Things were pretty strained between your father and me after that — after Lisa,' she said. 'We came close to separating a few times in the next few years. But your father wanted to stay because of you. He thought he was 'protecting' you from me.'

She tossed her head back angrily.

'I had every intention of keeping to the contract. I wasn't planning to tell you anything until you were eighteen. But he didn't trust me.

'Then, when you turned eighteen last year, all hell broke loose. We had massive rows. He tried to force me to keep the secret from you. And in the end, he started divorce proceedings.'

'And that was his weapon, wasn't it?' said Lisa.

'Yes,' said Mum, softly.

She looked at me directly. 'You may be wondering why I didn't tell you about my — about our — sex life when you were eighteen. Well, it was because of the divorce. We eventually agreed to do it by mutual consent and it should have been over and done with in a few months, but I was afraid your father would drag you and Lisa into it in court if I told you. So I put it off until the divorce was absolute — but by then I was hardly seeing you. And when I did see you, you wouldn't talk to me. You'd cut yourself off from me completely.'

She shrugged. 'So there you are. That's it. That's all there is to tell.'

She looked up at me then and glared. Challenging me. Her eyes were as hard and searching as they'd ever been, but now I understood that look. I knew what her challenge was. It made me shiver. It made my toes curl.

But it made my cock throb too. I couldn't help it.

*****

Nobody spoke. They seemed to be waiting for me. After a while, when the silence was pressing down on me too hard, I asked:

'Mum, why are you angry with me?'

'Because,' she said.

'Because of what?'

'Because you're such a little wanker.'

She said it calmly. It was like a slap in the face.

'But ...' I said.

She held up her hand.

'Listen to me,' she said. 'Let me make this perfectly clear. There's nothing wrong with wanking. I knew that was what you were doing all last year. I could bloody well hear you, for God's sake! And your sheets were covered in spunk. They reeked of it.

'But you were so furtive about it! So ashamed. And you couldn't look me in the eye. That's why I'm calling you a wanker. Because you don't have any guts. Not about sex, anyway.'

I must have said something, but I don't remember what it was.

'That dirty picture on your computer was the last straw, wasn't it?' Mum said. 'When I saw that pretty blonde girl with the butt plug up her bum, I was so pleased. I thought you'd left her on the screen on purpose. I thought you'd wanted me to see her. But it wasn't true.

'You went all silent and trembly, didn't you? I knew what that meant. Please don't talk about it, Mum! Please don't!'

She was screwing up her face and whining at me — mimicking me. I wondered if I really sounded like that to her.

She pushed the imitation further: 'I know I'm a dirty little wanker, Mum, but please don't tell me you know!'

I couldn't speak now. I was blushing and shivering. Mum sat there in front of me with her legs apart, twisting the knife. And the other two just listened. It was cruel.

'And then you were so fucking useless about that magazine!'

She parodied me again, sticking her nose up in the air: 'What's this doing here, Mother? Why is there a filthy porno mag lying on the coffee table?

'Do you want to know why it was there, Jeremy?' she asked — but she didn't wait for an answer. 'I'll tell you. It was there because I'd been masturbating to the pictures. I'd forgotten to put it away, that's all. Do you understand now? Do you understand me?'

I nodded. I was dumb.

'But that's enough,' Mum said. 'You know everything. We're completely up to date. So now you have to decide what you want to do. Do you still want to be part of this family? On my terms?'

'Yes,' I said, without any hesitation.

'You understand what "yes" means, don't you?' Mum asked.

'Yes,' I said again. 'I think I do.'

'Then take your penis out, Jeremy,' my mother said. 'Show us your cock.'

Her crudeness was like another slap in the face. But I did as I was told. I felt — I don't know ... awkward, ... dazed, ... stupid. But I did it. I stood up and unzipped myself. My cock was hard, and it was difficult to extract at first. When I finally managed to free it, it stood straight out. It was throbbing, urgent, eager.

I tried to stay deadpan, to hide my embarrassment, but whatever my face may have tried to hide, my cock was telling the truth — the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

I was quiveringly, enormously aroused.

Lisa and Aunt Linda applauded. At first I thought they were taking the piss and I blushed. But when I looked at them, I realised they meant it. They had a voracious look in their eyes.

'It's very nice,' said Mum. And she leant forward and took the end in her mouth. It felt warm and wet and soft. My entire body went rigid with shame and delight.

She stayed like that, sucking me, for about a minute. She looked up. I could see the whites of her eyes.

I couldn't tear mine away. I was in shock! My prick was in my mother's mouth! My prick was in her mouth!

'Careful, Chris,' said Linda, with an excited, dirty chuckle. 'You'll make him shoot. He must be on a hair trigger. We don't want to waste it.'

'Just like me when he walked in on us,' said Lisa, petulantly. 'I was nearly there too. I still am!'

Aunt Linda laughed again and came over to join us. She stood behind Lisa and pulled the hem of her dress up. Then she pushed both hands down the front of Lisa's pants. Lisa leant back against her breasts and turned her head. Linda kissed her on the mouth and Lisa moaned. I watched Linda's fingers working again in Lisa's panties.

Mum moved back and released my cock.

'I think I'm starting to feel better. But there's something you need to do for me first, Jeremy,' she said.

I just looked at her. I couldn't speak

'I want you to kiss my arse,' she said.

I couldn't think of anything cruder that she could possibly have said. But there was something.

'When I say my arse', she said, pedantically, 'I don't mean just a kiss on the bum.' She gave herself a smart slap on the behind to demonstrate. 'When I say arse', she went on, 'I mean arsehole. Got it?'

I must have looked completely shocked. The other two laughed.

'And when I say kiss my arsehole', Mum went on, smiling sweetly, 'I mean kiss and lick. I want to feel your tongue in there. OK, darling?'

Lisa was grinning.

'It isn't so difficult really, Jeremy,' she said. 'Mum's very clean, you know. Look, I'll show you.'

Mum stood up and turned her back to me, then bent over, legs straddled, supporting herself with her hands on the chair. She flexed her buttocks and I saw them part. Then Lisa put her hands on them — they were very firm, I saw — and pulled them apart some more so I could see Mum's anus — her dark little star.

Lisa went on grinning. 'Isn't it pretty?' she asked me. 'Tasty too!'

And she leant into Mum's bum and tongued her — on the arsehole. Thoroughly.

She went on doing it for a long time. I could see her tongue-tip lapping. Mum was giving little grunts of pleasure and encouragement.

Then Mum looked back over her shoulder — straight at me.

'Jeremy's turn now,' she said, and Lisa stood up.

'Do you think this is dirty, Jeremy?' my mother asked. 'Do you think it's obscene, this little game we're playing?'

I stared at her parted buttocks and the pucker revealed between them.

'Yes,' I said.

'Well, you're right,' said Mum. 'It is obscene. And I'm obscene, and Lisa is — and Linda is. And sex, Jeremy, is at its most exciting when it's obscene. When it's really, really dirty. Remember that. My favourite word is obscene. Now come down here and lick my sexy arsehole, darling.'

And so I did.

*****

As I knelt down behind Mum and leaned in towards her bottom, I realised that there was a kind of ritual going on here. It was like an initiation. She can't have planned it — she hadn't known I'd be there — but I wondered if she'd thought about this moment for a long time. I wondered if she'd imagined her son kneeling and kissing her arsehole, to make up for everything that had happened before.

That was what was going through my mind, anyway, but my body was trembling and my prick was throbbing.

I nuzzled my nose in between her buttocks and felt her warmth against my face. Trembling — disgusted and aroused at the same time — I poked my tongue in and found her pucker. I was expecting to find something — I don't know — foul maybe, but it didn't taste of anything really. It was just a little moist — from Lisa's spit I suppose. But I felt very, very dirty as I did it.

Mum said quietly: 'There's a good boy, Jeremy. Don't stop.'

So I went on licking; licking at her bum hole.

After a while, Mum said: 'Now kiss it, Jeremy.'

I did as I was told. I puckered my lips and kissed her there.

'Now try to get your tongue right inside,' she said.

Obediently, I flexed my tongue and pushed the tip into her hole as hard as I could. It didn't go in far, but I felt her anus twitch.

After a while, Mum reached behind her and stroked the side of my face. It was the first time she'd been gentle with me all evening.

'OK. That's enough. Stand up,' she said.

I did. Mum stood up too. She came to me and reached up to take my head in her hands, pressing my temples gently with her thumbs. She stared into my eyes — with that same challenging, searching look. Then she put her mouth on my mouth and kissed me with parted lips. Her tongue wormed in and touched mine. It was slippery wet and squirmy, like two eels copulating: a fully sexual kiss.

The first one I'd ever had.

My cock was pressing against her belly. It jerked and I almost came. There was wetness leaking out.

Mum broke the kiss and stepped back, laughing.

'We need to do something about his cock,' she said. 'He'll be cumming all over me soon.'

She turned to Aunt Linda. 'Do you think it's time for him to fuck one of us?'

But Linda laughed. 'In this condition, he won't last more than a few strokes,' she said. 'Why don't we play Russian Roulette instead?'

'Russian Roulette!' said Mum, excitedly. 'Yes! And then we can ...'

Linda chimed in and the sisters finished in unison: 'Play with his spunk!'

Linda turned to Lisa to explain. 'We used to play spunk games with the boys we shared when we were younger. We loved it. But we haven't had the chance to do it for — oh, for years!'

She glanced at me and saw my shock.

'You have to remember, Jeremy,' she said, 'Your mother and I are obscene women. She told you just now. She was telling the truth. We don't go in for 'nice' sex. We need it to be dirty.'

'Come on,' said Mum. 'My son's cock needs sucking! Who's first?'

'I am,' said Lisa, and she knelt down in front of me and took the head of my cock in her mouth, working my glans with her tongue. She took hold of my shaft, too, and began to run her fingers lightly up and down, but Mum tapped her on the shoulder.

'No cheating!' she said. 'No hands!'

So Lisa let go of me and went on sucking and licking.

They didn't let her stay there long. After much less than a minute, Mum took Lisa's place, then Aunt Linda followed her. I think if any one of them had stayed just a few moments longer, I'd have cum. As it was, I spurted just as Lisa started her second turn. I felt my cock jerk and then I was pumping sperm uncontrollably into my sister’s warm mouth.

Lisa looked up at me calmly until I'd finished.

The other two — Mum and Aunt Linda — cheered. Then Mum took hold of Lisa's shoulders and spoke into her ear.

'Just hold it in your mouth for a moment, darling,' she murmured.

She knelt and brought her lips close to Lisa's.

'Kiss me,' she said. 'Dribble the nasty mess into my mouth.'

I saw my sister's mouth open. When Mum pulled away a few seconds later, there were glistening strings of saliva and spunk between her mouth and Lisa's.

Mum stood up. She looked at me, with her mouth closed. I was excited and disgusted at the same time — the two feelings curdled together. Her lips were shiny with spittle and cum. I knew her mouth was full.

She didn't take her eyes off mine. She raised her hand — her right hand — to her chin and cupped her palm beneath it. Then, very carefully, very deliberately, she parted her lips and let the silvery spunk drool down into her hand. It came out as a heavy, viscous string.

When she'd finished, Mum glanced down at the slimy pool in her palm. There was still a string of sperm connecting it to her lips. She raised her left hand to her mouth and delicately broke the string. Then she licked her sticky fingers.

She glanced at me again and smiled.

'Do you like spunk games, Jeremy?' she asked. 'Have you seen them before, in porno films online?'

I nodded, dumb.

'I'll bet the girls in them weren't as dirty as I am, though, were they?' she asked sweetly.

Suddenly she feinted with her hand — her cum-filled hand — towards my face. I stepped back, horrified. Mum laughed. The other two laughed too.

'Mmm,' grinned my mother, 'you like to watch girls do it, don't you? But the thought of having your own spunk on your face revolts you. I'm right aren't I?'

'Yes,' I mumbled.

'Well, watch this, Jeremy,' said Mum, and she held out her hand to Aunt Linda. And Linda bent her head and lapped up the mess from Mum's palm. Then they kissed, and I saw my spunk go back into Mum's mouth. Then she drooled it out again, back into her hand.

'And now it's your turn, Jeremy,' she said. 'Come on now. Don't be a baby.'

She stepped towards me again, but slowly this time. Then, very slowly, very deliberately, she raised her cummy hand and smeared the spunk onto the side of my face. I felt the sticky wetness trickling down.

Mum turned to the others. 'Isn't he pretty?' she asked.

She turned back to me and kissed me and licked my sticky cheek. When she broke away, her lips were shiny.

Linda came next and did the same, licking the mixture of spit and spunk off my face. Then Lisa did it too, softly and lovingly. When she'd finished, she kissed me on the mouth. I tasted salt. Then she stood back and turned to the others.

'I really need an orgasm,' she said. 'Can I have one now please, Mum?'

And my mother stepped across to the coffee table and picked the dildo up from where it had fallen on the floor.

'Yes, of course you can, my love,' she said. 'Do you want this in your cunt or up your arse?'

'Both, please,' said Lisa, simply. 'Fill me up both ways.'

And my mother strapped the dildo on.

*****

Linda and Lisa stripped, then took my clothes off me too. I didn't resist. I couldn't. I just let it happen. Then Linda and I sat on the sofa and watched Mum fuck Lisa. They did it doggy style. First Mum fucked her in her cunt, then she pushed the dildo into Lisa's arsehole. I was amazed at how determined she was — and how practised she looked. After she'd lined the dildo up with Lisa's hole, she went straight in. It wasn't gentle. Once the dildo was inside, she buggered Lisa hard, slamming her hips against Lisa's bum as she buried the dildo all the way up her arse at every stroke. It looked painful. Lisa gasped and moaned. Her face contorted. I couldn't tell what she was feeling, but she didn't ask Mum to stop.

After a while, Linda knelt down beside them and slid her hand under Lisa's belly and in between her thighs, to masturbate her. She wasn't gentle either. Lisa moaned at the pressure — and eventually she shuddered and jerked and came. Her face and neck were blushing red. Her body twitched for a long time afterwards as she came down from the orgasm.

Mum looked up at me as she drew the dildo out of Lisa's arse.

'Would you like to clean it, Jeremy?' she asked me, with that sweetly challenging smile she'd used to taunt me before.

They all laughed at what must have been the look of sheer horror on my face. Then Linda winked at me and leant towards her to take the dildo in her mouth. Mum laughed again.

'You see?' she said. Just those two short words, as if another point had been proved. I wondered if she was like that in court when she won a case.

What happened next? Well, Mum fucked Linda — with the strap-on, in her cunt and arsehole, just as she'd fucked Lisa. It seemed to go on for hours. I remember Linda grinning all the time as Mum slammed into her — until her face screwed up at the end and she came hard, gasping. And then she went as limp as a rag. I saw the sweat gleaming on her skin.

Mum wrapped her arms round Linda's hips and leaned forward to kiss her back. They stayed like that for a while, with the dildo still in Linda's arse, like a tableau — or like a Rodin statue maybe.

Then it was Mum's turn. They took the dildo and the harness off her and laid her on her back with her legs spread wide apart. Linda fetched two more dildos and they went at her with them in both Mum's holes. They used their mouths as well, on her nipples and her clit. I remember the loud squelching sounds as they fucked her — and Mum's deep, harsh moans. I don't know how many times she came, but she wouldn't let them stop.

Eventually, Mum told them she needed some long, hard anal, so Lisa strapped the dildo on and began to fuck her in the arse. (It was as crude and simple as that. Mum said: 'Give me anal now. Fuck my arsehole.' - so Lisa did.)

While this was going on, Linda came and sat next to me. She leaned against me and I felt the wetness of her skin — the sweat that still hadn't dried. My cock was hard again now, and she reached over almost casually and took it in her hand. She didn't masturbate me; she just held it gently. She talked to me quietly as we watched them fucking.

'Have you heard about the maenads, Jeremy?' she asked. 'In Greek mythology?'

I had, sort of, but I didn't know what they were, so I shook my head.

'They were followers of Dionysus,' she said. 'Mostly women. Haven't you heard of Euripides' play -- "The Bacchae"?'

On the floor in front of us, Lisa was grunting with effort as she buggered Mum. Both of them were sweating, just like Linda. Mum grunted too — deep and low as each thrust went into her.

'Bacchus was another name for Dionysus,' Linda said. 'And the maenads were sometimes called bacchantes. They used to go about in wild troops and they were said to tear animals apart with their bare hands — in ecstasy. Then they ate the raw, bloody flesh.'

'Women?' I asked.

'Yes, women,' said Linda. 'They were under the influence of the god, you see. Under the spell of Dionysus. They were mad with him.

'In "The Bacchae", the King of Thebes, Pentheus, refuses to honour Dionysus. So Dionysus sends the women in his family mad and makes Pentheus watch his mother, his sister and his wife have an orgy. All three together — just like us.

'But they catch him,' she went on, 'and they rip him to pieces. All that's left is a bloody mess on the ground.'

I stared at my mother's face as Lisa buggered her. Her eyes were closed and her mouth was open in a little 'o' as she gasped for air. Lisa's hips twisted a little every time she rammed the dildo up Mum's arse.

'The story's really all about sex, of course,' said Linda. 'Pentheus didn't respect it, so it destroyed him. I think the Greeks — Greek men, anyway — were fascinated and appalled by the sheer strength of women's sexuality. By its uncontrollable power.

'They were frightened by the wildness that can come into women — when they're possessed by Dionysus.

'And that's what you're seeing here,' she added. 'Look at your mother's face. Look at her! That's the face of a maenad, overcome by sex. Deep inside it. Mad with it.

'Do you understand me?'

'Yes,' I said. 'I think so.'

'In that case,' said Linda, 'you should know what you have to do now.'

'What?' I asked her, though I thought I knew the answer.

'It should be obvious,' she told me. 'You have to honour Dionysus. It's time to fuck your mother.'

And so I did.