The Afternoon of Bicycles with Mom in the Woods

Seven months had passed since that first night in the living room at home, when my grandfather and I stopped pretending and Mom stopped resisting. Seven months in which her belly had rounded like a full moon, firm, high, marking every dress she put on.

She didn’t know whose baby she was carrying. Whether it was mine. Whether it was her own father’s. And that doubt, instead of tormenting her, had turned her into something else.

—I don’t know whether you got me pregnant or Dad did —she used to whisper to me some mornings, while I stroked her belly resting against my shoulder—. And I like not knowing. I like it more than I should. I like thinking it was your mixed semen that made me like this. The two of you, fucking me in turns, no pulling out, no condom, nothing.

More than I should. That phrase summed up everything that had been happening inside that house since winter.

That Saturday in July we decided to go out into the countryside. The official plan was innocent: an afternoon of bikes along the dirt paths that surrounded the village. There were five of us: Mom, my grandfather, my three lifelong friends, and me. I had told Adrián, Tomás, and Sergio everything months earlier. They knew and accepted it with the quiet fascination of people who discover a huge secret and decide not to betray it.

Mom had put on a light summer dress, white, that made her belly stand out as if it had been drawn in ink. Nothing underneath. I knew that the moment she bent down to adjust the saddle and I saw the fabric cling to the curve of her ass without anything interrupting the line. The neckline, low and loose, let almost everything show whenever she leaned over the handlebars: tits swollen from pregnancy, dark, wide nipples standing out against the cotton.

—You’re begging for it —I told her in her ear before we set off, my hand sliding down her back until I pinched one cheek of her ass.

—And what do you want? —she replied, looking at my friends with a smile that was no longer a mother’s—. For me to wear a sack? Let them get hard looking at me. That’s what you want, isn’t it?

We pedaled along a narrow path that led into the woods. Mom rode in the middle, setting the pace. I watched the dress ride up with each movement, watched her belly rub against the frame, watched her bite her lip when a bump made her bounce on the saddle and the saddle dug straight into her bare cunt. My friends pedaled behind. They didn’t talk. There was no need. I knew they had rock-hard cocks inside their shorts and that the ride was becoming unbearable for them.

***

We stopped in a clearing about twenty minutes from the village, far enough away that no one would run into us, open enough for the sun to reach the ground directly. Mom got off the bike with slightly trembling legs and leaned against a fallen trunk. She was breathing hard. The back of her dress was damp with sweat, and so was the inside of her thighs: there was a dark, telltale stain climbing the fabric from her crotch.

—You all right, daughter? —my grandfather asked, coming up behind her. His voice had that gravity that only appeared when something was about to happen.

—I’m fine, Dad —she said without turning around—. It’s just… the ride made me a little nervous.

Nervous. That was the word she used instead of horny. We’d been translating it for months.

I came up on her other side. I ran my hand over her belly, over the thin fabric, and felt the heat coming off it. Then I went lower, grabbed the dress at the height of her cunt, and pressed it against her flesh. She was soaked. I showed my grandfather the fingers stained with her, and he let out a short, deep laugh.

My friends had sat down on another trunk, about five meters away, and were watching without saying anything. Adrián had his hands resting on his thighs and a clear bulge showing in his pants. Tomás had shoved his hands in his pockets and was squeezing his cock inside them. Sergio was breathing through his mouth, his face red.

—Look at me —I told Mom.

She lifted her face. Her eyes were bright, almost wet, and a blush was rising from her neck.

—Take off your dress —I asked.

She stayed still for a second. Then she looked at my friends, who didn’t take their eyes off her, and she looked at my grandfather. And she took off her dress, pulling it over her head in one movement.

She stood in the middle of the clearing, her huge belly under the sun, her swollen tits hanging heavy over it, the dark, hard nipples like cherries, her cunt swollen and glistening between her thighs, with a thread of slick running down the inside of her right thigh. A whole woman, complete, offered up. My mother.

—Fuck… —murmured Sergio through his teeth—. She’s dripping.

—Shut up and look —said my grandfather, without turning toward him.

My grandfather came up behind her, ran his hands around her wide waist, brought his palms up to cover her tits and squeezed them from behind. Her nipples stuck out between his fingers. He bit her ear slowly and pressed his cock, still inside his pants, against her ass.

—Tell them what you are —he whispered to her—. Tell them what the two of us call you when no one’s listening.

Mom swallowed. It took her effort to get the words out.

—I’m… I’m the woman of my son and my father —she said, looking at my friends. Her voice trembled, but she didn’t give in—. I’m the whore of this house. The two of them fuck me, sometimes together, sometimes in turns. And I don’t know whose baby I’m carrying. It could be my son’s. It could be my father’s. The two of them came inside me so many times that week I’ve lost count.

Adrián closed his eyes for an instant and took his hand to his fly. Tomás pulled his cock out right away, with no preamble, and started stroking himself slowly. Sergio bit his lip the same way my mother did.

***

We helped her kneel on the dry grass, carefully, holding her belly between the two of us. My grandfather sat down in front of her, his back against the fallen trunk, and pulled his pants down to his knees. His cock was hard, thick, taut, the tip already wet. I got behind her. We already knew the routine. We had repeated it for months, in her kitchen, on the living room sofa, in the room where she no longer slept with anyone. But never outdoors. Never with an audience.

Mom bent over my grandfather’s lap with the clumsiness of haste and swallowed his cock to the base in one motion. When she had it in her mouth, she let out a long sigh, almost one of relief, as if she had been waiting hours for that moment. She started sucking it with that blind devotion she only had with him: her tongue sliding down the vein underneath, her lips closing tight around the glans, her cheeks hollowing from sucking so hard. My grandfather put a hand on the back of her neck and marked her, pushing her head down, making her take him all the way down until she coughed and a thread of saliva ran down her chin.

—That’s it, daughter —he told her—. No teeth. Like I taught you.

I, behind her, lifted her hip, brushed the hair away from her back, and ran my fingers through her crotch. Her cunt opened, swollen, wet, throbbing. I shoved two fingers into her at once and tore a moan from her that drowned in my grandfather’s cock. She was soaked. She’d been soaked the whole ride.

—This isn’t the first time she’s left the house like this —I said, not addressing anyone in particular, while I pulled my pants down and took out my already hard cock.

—I can see that —Tomás replied, never stopping jerking himself off.

I grabbed her by the hips and drove my cock into her in one thrust. Mom groaned around my grandfather’s cock, and I felt the sound vibrate through her whole body, through my grandfather’s cock, through mine. Her cunt was tight, hot, slippery, melting around me as if it were the first time. Her belly hung beneath her, almost brushing my grandfather’s thighs. I held her from underneath with one hand, protecting her, and with the other I dug my fingers into her hip to set the rhythm. I went in to the hilt, pulled almost all the way out, shoved back in. With every push I drove her farther down my grandfather’s mouth, and he held her head by the hair so she wouldn’t slip off.

—Look at her, boys —my grandfather told my friends—. Look at her well. Her name’s Lucía. She’s my daughter. And I’m fucking her mouth while my grandson tears her cunt apart from behind. And we’ve only just started.

My friends had moved closer. Not too close. Just enough to see everything without interfering. Adrián was the first to pull his out completely. It was long and thin, the glans shining. Tomás and Sergio were on his level a few seconds later, all three of them jerking off at the same time, watching us, watching her.

Mom lifted her face from my grandfather’s lap. Her chin was wet, her mouth swollen, a thread of saliva and anticipatory cum hanging from her lip.

—Let them come closer —she said, panting, her voice broken—. Let them come closer, son. I want to suck all three of them. I want to taste them.

Adrián was first. He knelt beside her and brought his cock up to her mouth. Mom grabbed the base with her hand, looked at it for a second with hunger, and took it all the way in until she gagged. She started sucking him without pause, with real eagerness, and Adrián let out a sharp little whimper that cracked his voice.

Tomás took position on the other side and placed the tip against her cheek. Mom switched from one cock to another without letting go of either, alternating: she sucked Adrián, pulled him out, turned, sucked Tomás, went back. She had both of them hard as stones, their balls tight. Sergio stayed standing in front, hesitating, cock in hand, until my grandfather nodded at him.

—Come on, kid —he told him—. Don’t just stand there like a gobsmacked idiot. Put it wherever you can.

Sergio crouched beside the other two and brought his cock to her face. Mom smiled with her mouth full and made room for it. All four glans brushed her lips at once. She licked them in turns, kissed the tips, sucked one man’s balls while jerking off another. I kept fucking her from behind without losing rhythm, the wet sound of my groin slapping her ass with every thrust.

And so, without saying it out loud, Mom had five cocks around her: her father’s underneath her (who had sat up again on the trunk), her son’s inside her cunt, and her son’s three friends spread among her hands and mouth. Hands went back and forth over her belly, over her hanging tits, over her hair. No one squeezed. No one pushed. It was a strange choreography, almost devotional, as if everyone knew that that pregnant woman was the absolute center of the clearing and of the afternoon.

My grandfather stood up, came around, and positioned himself beside me from behind. He pulled me away slowly, spit into his hand, ran it over his cock, and drove it into Mom’s ass. She gave a muffled cry and choked for a moment on whichever cock she had in her mouth at that instant.

—Both holes —my grandfather told her—. Just how you like it, daughter.

I shoved it back into her cunt, and we started fucking her both at once, my grandfather in her ass and me in front, keeping time together from so many times before. Mom was crying with pleasure between cock and cock, her belly swaying between the bodies, her nipples brushing Adrián’s thigh each time she leaned down to suck him.

***

Mom came first. She did it with a muffled cry, biting her arm, her whole body clenching around the two cocks at once. I felt her hips throbbing, her thighs tensing, her cunt contracting, strangling my cock in waves. A gush of hot slick ran down over my balls and stained my thighs. My grandfather held her face between his hands through the trembling and spoke softly to her:

—That’s it, daughter. That’s it. We’re here. The five of us are here.

He said it with a strange tenderness, out of place, that made the back of my neck prickle. Sometimes I forgot that to him I was the grandson and she was the daughter. Almost never, but sometimes.

Adrián came a little later, over Mom’s tits, without warning, with the clumsiness of someone who had never experienced anything like it. He shot a long rope that crossed from her nipple to her neck, and another shorter one that landed on her belly. He apologized through clenched teeth, his voice broken. Mom ran her fingers over his cheek, gathered the semen from her breast with two fingers, and took it into her mouth without taking her eyes off him.

—Easy, darling —she told him, sucking her fingers—. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s delicious.

Tomás held out a little longer. She put his cock in her mouth just as he was about to blow and he emptied straight down her throat. Mom swallowed it without spitting out a drop, coughing at the end. Sergio couldn’t wait: he came over her face before she had time to get him in her mouth, splattering her forehead, nose, and chin. He stayed there, hunched over, cock in hand, breathing as if he’d been running.

My grandfather finished inside her with a hoarse groan, gripping her hips with both hands, driving it deep into her ass and unloading with grunts. I felt him go rigid against my hip. I followed almost at the same time: I gave her all my cum deep inside her cunt, pushing hard, letting her fall against my belly so not a single drop would escape me. When I pulled back, I saw it running down between her thighs, mixed with hers, with my grandfather’s leaking out of the other hole.

I sat for a moment in the grass to catch my breath. Mom let herself fall onto her side, careful with her belly, covered in semen across her face, her tits, her thighs, and stayed there, staring at the sky between the treetops with an idiotic smile.

—Fuck —said Sergio, with no other adjective.

—Yeah —Tomás replied.

Adrián said nothing. He sat next to Mom and offered her his T-shirt so she could wipe her neck. She accepted with a tired smile and slowly sat up, her legs still trembling and a trail of cum running down the inside of her thigh.

***

Marina, my girlfriend, showed up in the car a while later, just as we’d agreed. She brought cold water, towels, and a thermos of tea. She wasn’t going to take part. We’d talked about it that morning: she knew what was going on, accepted it with the same calm she accepted everything else, and preferred to be part of the care and not the act. It was enough for her to know.

—You all right, mother-in-law? —she asked Mom, offering her a damp towel and looking at her pringy face.

—Better than ever, daughter —Mom replied, laughing for the first time all afternoon.

Marina sat beside her and helped her clean up slowly. She passed the towel over her forehead, over her cheeks, over her neck, unhurried. She spread her thighs delicately and cleaned between her legs too, removing the thick mixture that was still running down. She straightened the dress over her belly with that delicacy only women have with one another. She brushed away a lock of hair stuck to her forehead with semen. She handed her the water.

—Did it hurt? —she asked in a low voice.

—No —Mom said—. It did me good. Very good.

Marina looked at her for a moment, nodded, and stood up. She handed my grandfather another towel, another to me, another to each of my friends. As if cleaning up after a snack. As if all of that were part of something normal in our family. And in a way, by then, it was.

***

We went back to the village when the sun began to go down. Mom was in the car with Marina, and the rest of us behind on our bikes. My friends pedaled in silence, as if they were still processing it. Adrián was the last to speak.

—Hey —he said when we were already near home—. What happened today…

—You don’t have to say anything.

—I just wanted to say your mother… I don’t know. To look after her.

—We look after her —I said.

And it was true. Anyone who looked at my mother that afternoon, pregnant to the brim, open to everything, with five cocks on her and semen running down her thighs, might think we were using her. But the truth was the opposite. She was using us. My grandfather, me, now the others. She was using the situation, the doubt, the belly, the secret. She used it so she wouldn’t feel alone in that impossible pregnancy, in that long summer, in that house where everyone knew and no one spoke.

That night, when I went into her room to kiss her good night, Mom was already lying on her side, one hand on her belly, staring at a fixed point on the wall. She had showered, but she still smelled like us beneath the soap.

—Your grandfather’s coming for dinner tomorrow —she said, without turning around.

—I know.

—Sergio wrote me —she added—. He’s asking if he can come by on Saturday.

I stayed in the doorway, not knowing what to answer. After a while, she finally turned and looked me in the eyes.

—Tell him yes —she said—. Tell them yes to all of them.

And she turned off the light.