“That’s disgusting Mom,” Rheta reiterated. “He shouldn’t be turned on by his mom and sister, it’s just wrong.”
“Says the girl who went and jilled herself to a massive orgasm after she saw her brother’s supposedly huge cock.”
“I-I-I did no such thing,” Rheta tried to defend herself. Even without seeing her I could tell that she was blushing, which meant she was lying. Holy shit, my sister had gotten off to thoughts of me.
“Your screaming in pleasure as you cried ‘Yes BIG brother!’ woke me up. I had half a mind to make sure the two of you weren’t actually fucking, but after only hearing you for thirty seconds, I figured you were alone. So, I let you be; no need to make things awkward.”
“No, this isn’t awkward at all. What’s awkward about talking with my mom about masturbating to thoughts of my brother; while she goes on about how loud I am, while also bringing up schemes to have him show us his boner without asking for it directly, because that would be just slightly awkward.” As awed as I was by this conversation, the way Rheta just said this, every word dripping sarcasm, was making me double over with silent laughter.
“You’ve been wanting to have these types of conversations ever since your brother got into a fight with that Duque boy back in March. When your crush on him began.” Wait, Rheta had a crush on me? (Quick summary, that Duque boy was in the year ahead of Rheta and I and had been bothering her since the end of Christmas break, trying to get her to go out with him. When she’d rejected him for the who knows how many-eth time, he’d gotten physical with her, demanding she go out with him. Upon seeing this, I did what any brother would do and started beating on him like a madman. We both were suspended for a week for the fight.)
“And when did yours start, my dear perverted mother? We’ve only been 18 for a couple of weeks, and I’ve seen you eyeing Henry like a piece of meat for at least a year now. You’ve been way too excited, and understanding, with all this talk of his dick.” Rheta was right, I realized upon looking back over this conversation: Mom was more into it than she should have been. Which made me wonder, had Mom been eyeing me so luridly over the past while? I certainly hadn’t noticed, but clearly my sister had.
“I don’t have a crush on your brother,” Mom said in a suspiciously even tone. “What you think you’ve seen is simply me realizing that Henry is growing up and that I’m proud of the man he’s becoming. My so-called eagerness is just the mom in me happy that you’re confiding in me about such things and my trying not to screw it up by overreacting in a way that would have you close off yourself from me.”
“Oh, Mom, that’s so sweet,” Rheta said. Did she not pick up on the subtle tone Mom was using? “But that doesn’t answer my question: how long have you wanted to fuck your own son?”
“I don’t appreciate that tone, missy,” Mom said in her most mom voice. “Nor do I appreciate being called a pervert. The love I have for both you and your brother is strictly maternal. Am I blind to the fact that Henry is a handsome young man; no I am not. But I do not have lustful thoughts about him, thank you very much.”
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