It's a lot to take in, isn't it?

Mom walked over the couch. She sat down.

She motioned for us to sit down, one of us on each side of her.

There was a long pause. She looked at each of us, and took in our clothes. She made a face: was it disgust? Was it something else? I couldn't tell for sure.

"You're my husband," she said to my dad. He nodded yes.

She looked over at me. "And you're my son." I nodded yes as well.

"What were you doing together when I walked in?"

"We were--" Sad started to say, but he couldn't find the words. I could swear I heard the duchess laughing.

"We are married," I said.

Another very long pause.

"Married?" she asked.

"Yes," I said. I stood up and moved around the couch, next to dad. I took his hand in mine. He squeezed it back and looked up at me with affection and adoration.

"Married?" mom said again, her face squinting up. "You're father and son! What the fuck are you talking about?"

"W-we've been married since that snowstorm where we got stuck."

"Oh," said Mom. She looked down at the floor. "I guess it's true you haven't done much with me since then."

_I could possess her and make this real interesting, boys, _I heard the duchess say.

"But, fucking your own son? What--"

"Actually," dad said, "mostly he dominates me. Mostly he fucks me."

"Daddy," I said, "don't lie. We trade off who is or does what. We're switching all the time."

"How exactly did this happen?" Mom asked. We told her the story of the hotel. The whole story. Dad blushed, but the more we told the story, the harder his cock got. Mine too.

And, not that I was intentionally looking, but when mom stood up at the end of the story, the couch was soaked with her juices.

I could possess her, I heard the duchess say again.

A long pause. Dad and I looked at each other, cocks hard in our bridal underwear.

Finally, Mom spoke.