Smells Like Teen Heat

Routines were safe; layman. Security blankets for the easily goosebumped.

That said, even Hal Boon had a routine.

Every morning started similarly; ignore his mother's first call to breakfast, chortle in his sleep, slam into the carpet once his blanket was yanked out from below. He would groggily climb to his feet, do some miscellaneous thing no one was excited about, then come down to the smell of bacon and eggs. Sidle up, mutter thanks, then clamp a fork.

So it was a slightly weird sensation this morning when Hal pried his bleary eyes open to the feeling of a warm, light, but oddly comforting weight resting against him, then with one look downward and past a head of dark brown hair, saw that weight belonged to his sister's smooth, nicely scented body pressed over his. And not just casually strewn, chicken noodle style; no, she wrapped around him as tight as a damned straitjacket, her two hands wedged between his back and the mattress. It was only after what seemed like a faint tremble did he realize just how deep her hands were digging into him.

Hal's head haze beginning to clear, he discovered that the trembling wasn't just her half-asleep breaths -- with a double take, he confirmed that this tightass, uppity, leggy girl who also was supposedly his sister was, at this very moment, softly, rapidly grinding her crotch over his boxer-covered penis! And she was shuddering and whimpering as intensively as trying to keep an earthquake hush-hush!

The next second, she had shifted from grinding to thrusts, moving her hips up and down then up again with a velocity so fierce it was probably breaking the sound barrier. Hal felt Martha's fingernails digging into his back now and he was about to protest, his thickening cock now able to make out the sloping lips of his sister's slinging, shorts-adorned mound and growing stiffer and ingratiatingly walloped in pleasure with each joust, when suddenly their mom's voice resounded from below.

"Hal! Martha! Breakfast!"

Martha came to a stop, her breaths heavy. Hal could smell the sweat emanating from her body, let alone feel it. Her pounding chest felt hot against his, and her breasts were rubbing up and down over his chest through her thin tanktop only slightly as she cursed. He felt her rock hard nipples like splinters tracing over him. "Damn it." Then, before Hal could say a word, Martha landed one hand right onto his face and climbed out of the bed in a rush, not before accidentally brushing the jutting tip of his cock with a toe or two, then slid out the door of his room. She stopped for a second, turning back to look at what she'd wittingly just left behind. Then, summoning what seemed to be an immense amount of will, she continued to the stairs while melodically informing her mom she'd be down, a hint of crossness in her usual self-assured voice.

After a couple seconds had passed, Hal sat up on his bed. Then, with one hand, grabbed his nether-regions, and his nose with the other, a mixture of pain and discomfort spread over his face. "Argh!"

"Where the fuck is she?" Renee looked up to see her son at the threshold of the kitchen, a look of agitation in his stare, then gestured with the back of her hand to nowhere.

"Who, your sister? She already left, baby. But if you keep up the language I could give you a kick in the rear to catch up to her." Hal's abject stare deepened as she worked through some spare pots and pans. "Apparently, she was late for a morning club meet-up," the occupied woman shrugged. "Couldn't afford to miss it."

"But her breakfast!" Hal directed a hand to a mostly empty plate.

"She wolfed it down," Renee placed a knuckle to her chin thoughtfully. "Looked hungry as one, too, for some reason. And also a bit of a mess, but she was already out the door before I could say anything."

Hal just grumbled and took a seat, stabbing at the egg smiling back at him.

An engorged, pulsating rod wailed between his legs, and he was barely able to concentrate as his eyes scanned the table before falling on an opened envelope, a piece of Scotch tape dangling from the released fold. Oh yeah, he stuffed a yolk into his mouth, that was the...

Like an anvil, it came back to him, and Hal remembered: the letter, the dinner, the game, the whatever that was last night. The Chippendale douche, the baseball douche, his sister and mother all raining on his parade. The nose. The dick. The jizz, all the jizz.

Hal grunted to himself. For him life had always been simple. He was a man of simple tastes, simple needs, and he didn't care if he never admitted it. Right now everything seemed mashed together. He was feeling a bit upset at how recent matters had went for him. And he pieced two and three together, even if not by purpose.

"Mom, about last night!" Hal interjected, suddenly.

"Yes, Hal?" She turned to look at him, hair cradling her face ever so prettily in the daylight. In spite of himself, Hal felt his cock grow even tighter against his shorts, eyes wandering over his mother's body, hiding half-successfully under the pair of sweatpants and casual halter top, which only showed what was begging to come out and dazzle under the smothering eyes of any lucky peek instead of divert from it. He gritted his teeth, head in overcast, and he decided he no longer had the temperament.

"Never mind! Can I ask you a favor?!"

His mother frowned. "Hal, I can't just let you off with a blank check, just so you know. If you want to ask something, just do it outright."

Hal spluttered back, "May I ask you a favor?!"

Renee sighed, then rolled her eyes. "Fine, just this one. What do you want?"

Hal couldn't believe it. That she 180'd so effortlessly. That they were still playing this game. That finally, he was going to just let them do it. After all, because of them, he was both mentally and sexually frustrated. He didn't know what they were up to, but wherever they were going, this time he was going to be taking the damn lead! He was going to take this damn baton and stick it up the marching lead's ass!

"You really know what I want? I want you to suck me off Mom! Suck me off 'til I cum buckets down your throat, that's what! Buckets! Like any good breakfast," Hal was now standing as he pointed strait to his groin, just a couple feet away, chair squeaking as it slid, "from any good fucking son! How does that sound, huh?!"

"Oh," the young, endearing woman suddenly looked away uncertainly, without any shock or revulsion, but with a thoughtful look on her face, "I'm sorry, I know I said to tell me what you want, but I just don't think that sounds acceptable to me at all. I actually think I'd rather break my legs than do that to my own son. It is just so completely immoral I wouldn't be able to forgive myself afterward. Sorry, honey." Even managing a smile, she returned to sorting the cupboard as her son just stared at her, then her backside.

Hal couldn't take it anymore. That was both the most alien and yet most typical mothery shit he had heard in his life.

"May I fuck you then," his mouth moved on in auto-pilot before he even knew what it was saying, "like the proper, moral mother you are, in any fucking hole, any fucking way I want?! Does that sound better? Is that 'acceptable'!?"

"Of course, Hal," Mrs. Boon nodded, setting down a pot she was holding onto the counter as she dropped her hands to the top of her pants waistline and stretched it down until they fell to the floor, two globes now staring back at the young man while the unperturbed woman returned her attention to the counter, "that sounds perfectly fine."

Hal's dick about popped, and soon, his pants joined his mother's against the tile.

"So? What happened next?"

Hal grunted, hands in his pockets as he walked with his retard 'friend' towards the front entrance of their retarded high school. "I did. I fucked her."

"No!"

"You think I'm a liar?"

"You think you'd fuck your mom then get away with it?"

"You think I give a shit?"

"Hal, that reply makes no sense."

Hal just scoffed, stepping over the curb. "Believe me, Curman. It happened."

"Hold on, hold on, hold on," the skinnier, black-haired boy went in front of Hal and stopped him. His eyes were quite piercing, but otherwise, he looked like one of those faceless blobs that could easily slip into a crowd by being utterly ignorable. "I want to go over some stuff again first."

"You think I'm a tape recorder, Curman?"

"Hal, think about it. What if, and yeah, it's a big if, but so was your uptight mother and sister being closeted sex-maniacs and now what, what if this isn't a game? What if they're not playing a trick on you? What if there's more to it than that? As my dad used to say, it smells like teen heat, but hides like an iceberg."

Hal rolled his eyes, already tired of Bumboy's lecture. He always thought he was so smart. Well, he wasn't. He only solved that rubix cube once. "You're a dickwad, Bumboy." He started forward again, his acquaintance perched at his side.

"Hey," Curman wagged a finger, "you want my help -- sorry, cooperation, with showing up the Vans, right? Well, then, the price of information, and likely for your own benefit even, is far from costly. Come on, Hal."

Sighing as the school sign passed their heads and some juniors passed by in their own little world, Hal grumbled, "Okay, Curman, you shit. What is it?"

Curman nodded, fingers slithering up his cheek. Hal could tell some things were going on inside that head, but he didn't really care what. Finally, the young man nodded, decision made, as a glimmer showed in his eye.

"Okay, why don't you tell me more about..."