Quarantined with Kell, Part V by JackDRipper

I gulped. “Dad has Covid? How is he?”

“Just like your grandfather, sniffly and grouchy,” my mother said. “Your grandfather is just about over it, so I expect your father will make a full recovery too. He’ll just be a pain until he feels better.”

We wrapped up the conversation and hung up. I shook my head.

“This is getting scary,” I said. Kell nodded.

The rest of the ride was uneventful and, as expected, we pulled up in front of the house I grew up in just after 4:30. Bridget looked better than she had when we had chatted two days prior and looked more like the confident Bridget I had always known. But underneath the brave face I could still see hurt lurking. We hugged.

“It’s gonna be okay, little sister,” I said to her as we embraced. Kell came up beside and wrapped us both in her embrace.

We unpacked the car and moved into the guest room. Bridget had prepared dinner and we ate over a bottle of wine. Afterwards we retired to the family room, where we poured the rest of the bottle of wine into our glasses and Bridget boldly dug out a fresh bottle.

“Are you trying to get us drunk?” I asked.

“No, but I do want to talk,” she said. “Kell, I’ve heard you mention that there are things about our parents you haven’t shared with Jacob and I, things that we don’t know about. Why haven’t you ever told us?”

Kell took a sip of her wine and gazed off into the distance a moment.

“It’s complicated,” she said, finally. “It used to be you were too young. And now, if I told you, you might get the wrong impression about…well…things…” She looked at me.

“Things?” I asked.

“Yes…things.” Kell was sitting beside me on the couch, and she reached out and took my hand. “I don’t want something from the past ruining our today, or our future.”

I didn’t know what she meant. When I had decided to go through with the relationship with Kell, I had viewed it through the lens of two people who loved each other tossing convention aside and just being in love. That was it. I hadn’t considered that there might be a reason to think otherwise. A lump was forming in my stomach. Was there more going on that met the eye?

“Maybe you should just tell us and we can decide,” I said. Bridget nodded.

“As you wish,” Kell said, reaching for the wine and freshening her glass. “As you already know, your mother married your father at 19 and Jacob arrived just about a year later. Your grandfather has mellowed in recent years, but back then he was, well, challenging. He had a bit of a madonna-whore complex. He loved your grandmother, and was able to father two children with her, but he had a long string of mistresses. As soon as something became forbidden fruit, he wanted it more than anything else. The only reason your grandmother stayed with him is because he was a good provider and gave a stable home to Bella and I.

“When Bella, your mother, wanted to marry your father, your grandfather was opposed. He didn’t like your father one bit, he thought he was a philanderer who would cheat on his daughter – strong words for a guy who never met a skirt he couldn’t chase. So your mother, knowing your grandfather’s taste for the forbidden fruit, cooked up a plan.”

“Oh my god,” Bridget said. “I see where this is going.”

“Yep,” Kell replied. “She got her father a little tipsy, showed him a little skin, and he went in hook, line, and sinker. His own daughter – the most forbidden fruit there ever was. Bella had a hidden camera in the room when she fucked him. So she had the goods.”

“So our mother fucked her father, then blackmailed him” Bridget summed it up.

“Yep,” Kell confirmed.

I shook my head. “Okay, so that’s bad, but still, how does that affect you and I?”

“There’s more,” Kell said. “Your grandfather had set up a college fund for both Bella and I. Bella dropped out of college after a year deciding that academia wasn’t her thing. When she blackmailed her father for permission to marry, she also asked for money. She basically took the entire college fund, including my portion. When I went to college I had to earn a scholarship, and even with that I had to take on a job to pay the portions of the tuition the scholarship didn’t cover. Your mother has accused me of using you to get back at her for taking her college fund.”

“Wow, I had always thought of my mother as the good one, and you as the naughty one,” I said. “I had no idea. I can’t believe she would do that. I can’t judge her choice to sleep with her father, but I can judge her decision to leave you high and dry. That was wrong. You must be pretty resentful.”

Kell shook her head. “Nope, not any more. It took a lot of therapy, but I’m good.”

“Is there anything more?” Bridget asked.

“There were some…things…between your mother and I, but that I am not comfortable sharing without her assent.”

“You’ve already shared a lot,” Bridget said. “Why hold back now.”

“If you knew what those things were, you would understand.”

“And none of all this had anything to do with our relationship?” I asked.

“No, Jacob, I promise. Our relationship is natural and organic.”

Regardless of Kell’s reassurances, I had to admit, it bothered me. I wanted my relationship with Kell to be pure love, not a revenge ploy. I really didn’t think Kell had it in her body to be vengeful, but a tiny seed of doubt crept into my brain and began to sprout.

I excused myself and stepped out on the deck for a taste of the night air, trying to clear my head of the fog from too much wine. What if Kell really was just playing me for revenge? What if this was all a game? But would she have been so forthcoming? Would she have been in tears when she thought she had lost me?

The door closed behind me and I looked back to see Kell approach. She hugged me from behind.

“I love you Jacob, please don’t let anything lead you to believe otherwise. I swear to you our relationship is true.”

I turned around and hugged her back.

“I know, Kell. I know.” And in that moment, I did know.

We kissed, then Kell took my hand and we walked back inside. Bridget was still sitting in her chair, sipping wine, as Kell and I sat down on the couch.

“I have one other question,” Bridget said.

“Okay, shoot,” Kell answered.

“Are those photos still around?”

“What photos?”

“From when my mother fucked my grandfather.”

“I’ve never seen them myself. I assume they’re burned. Twenty-five years ago if you blackmailed someone with photos you usually gave them the negatives once you got your money. I doubt they are around.”

“I don’t know,” Bridget said. “Mom is pretty savvy. I bet she kept copies just in case.”

I disagreed. “How could she possibly have kept copies all these years with two nosy kids running around the house? I think it would have been impossible.”

“I don’t know. If you were our mom and were trying to hide something like that, where would you keep it?”

“Where ever it may be, it’s private and we shouldn’t go snooping around,” I said.

“We can put them back when we’re done,” Bridget responded. “Nobody will ever know.”

I looked at Kell, she agreed. “We should respect Bella’s wishes and let it be.”

Bridget pouted, then brightened. “That locked trunk, the one in the attic. I bet it’s in there. We’ve always been told to keep out of it.”

“It’s locked, Bridge,” I said. “And none of use knows how to pick locks.”

“Maybe the key is in her room or her desk somewhere. I bet it’s in her bureau.”

“We’re not going through our mother’s underwear drawer looking for the key,” I responded.

“Maybe you won’t but I will.” She tossed back the rest of her wine glass, refilled it, and headed up the stairs.

“Bridget!” Kell and I yelled, practically simultaneously, but it was too late. Bridget was already pounding up the stairs, drink in hand.

I swore, filled my own wine glass, and followed Bridget. Behind me, Kell also swore and said “I’ll bring the wine.” She trailed me up the stairs, glass in one hand, bottle in the other.

When I got to my parent’s room, Bridget already had the top left drawer in my mother’s bureau pulled open and was gently feeling around, trying not to disturb the clothes any more than she needed to. She went through all three drawers on the left side of the chest to no avail. They mostly contained sweaters, a couple of tops, and some sweats.

The top drawer of the right side was my mother’s underwear drawer. Bridget dug around for a moment, finally exclaiming “A-ha!” and pulling out a small key ring with three keys on it. One of them looked suspiciously like a padlock key.

“I bet this is it!” she said triumphantly. “Let’s go!”

“Hold on,” I said. “Let’s stop and consider what we are doing. We’re invading our mother’s privacy, bringing to light events she would probably prefer to leave buried, and probably are about to look at pictures of our mother and grandfather having sex. Do we really want that?”

“Back when they were young and hot?” Bridget said. “Sure, why not. And it will verify what Kell was saying.”

“Stop now,” Kell interrupted. “This has gone far enough. I didn’t tell you this so you could go digging up the past, I told you because you had the right to know. Your right to know stops at pawing through your mother’s locked trunk.”

“I just want to confirm what you are saying,” Bridget said, then added sarcastically “Trust but verify!”

And she was gone, around the corner, and up the stairs to the attic, Kell and I trailing, trying to talk her out of the course of action she was following.

The trunk in question sat in the far end next to a pile of boxes. We stood around it as Bridget tried the key in the lock. It fit, and the padlock popped open. Bridget slowly lifted the lid.

Inside, on top, was an old army jacket of my father’s and some military memorabilia.

“See,” I said. “Nothing to see here. Let’s just forget it, go back downstairs, get drunk, and have a sloppy threesome.”

“I’m down with that,” Kell said.

“Not so fast,” Bridget murmured, lifting the army jacket and other items out and laying them gently to the side.

Underneath the jacket was a blanket, which Bridget also set aside. And underneath that was a slinky black dress.

“Whoa,” I said as Bridget lifted it out and held out in front of her. Bridget and my mom were about the same size and shape and it looked like it would fit Bridge, so I was sure my mother had once worn it. I had trouble forcing the image of her wearing it out of my mind.

Underneath the black dress was a wax-paper packet bound with rubber bands containing a large stack photographs.

“Score!” cried Bridget and reached for the packet, pulling the pictures out.

I held my breathe as I looked over her shoulder.

The first two photos were innocuous pictures of the house in the late 90s. Then it got … interesting. The next photo was of my mom in the black dress. She looked incredible, a lot like Bridget. The fourth photo was also of my mom in the dress, but posing and bending slightly forward, showing as much cleavage as she could. And the next shot was of her completely bent over, a full downblouse shot showing pretty much everything, including her brown, wide nipples.

This was not what I wanted to see, but I couldn’t help but stare at the picture of my mother. She looked beautiful…and hot.

Kell nudged me. “Not getting hard over pictures of your mother, are you?” she asked, running a finger up an erection I didn’t even realize I had.

“Knock it off, Kell. Whose side are you on?” I said. But I had to admit, these photos were affecting me in ways I hadn’t intended or wanted.

The next photo was now from a hidden camera angle and showed my mother in front of a younger version of my grandfather. It looked like the camera was set to shoot every thirty seconds or so automatically. My grandfather reclined easily in a chair, my mother stood on front of him wearing the black dress. In the next photo she was closer, her hand was on his arm. In the next, she held his hand in hers. The next couple were innocuous, then suddenly my mother was full on naked, her hand reaching for my grandfather’s belt buckle.

Bridget froze, I froze, Kell froze.

“Whoa,” I whispered, not for the first time in the last few minutes.

The rest of the photos became a blur to me. My mom straddling my grandfather, then bending over the chair as he took her from behind, finally leaving a sticky puddle on her back. When they were done, my mother stood up and they kissed. The roll ended.

I couldn’t help myself. I was hard as a rock. Kell ran her fingers along my cock underneath my shorts. I didn’t want that erection, I was uncomfortable, awkward. I wanted to forget what I had just seen.

Bridget stood and held up the black dress in front of her sizing it up.

“Bridget, enough,” I said. “Put the dress back and let’s just go back downstairs. I’ll fuck you in whatever position you want. Let’s just go.”

Bridget wasn’t listening. The wine had gone to her head and she wobbled on her feet. She stripped down to her thong and pulled the dress on over her head. She adjusted it, then did a sexy shimmy. It fit her perfectly. The soft satin clung to her body, accenting her the curve of her breasts, the points of her nipples, the swell of her hips. The dress came far enough down to cover her thong, but not much further.

Bridget bent over like our mother had in her photo, pulling the dress down to reveal her cleavage and breasts. Her substantial nipples were hard and erect.

I realized just how much Bridget looked like my mom in those photos. A part of me wanted my cock inside of my mother.

Kell stood beside me, her hand on my tented shorts, slowly running it up and down the shaft through fabric.

“I’m ready for that sloppy threesome now,” Bridget said, and blew me a kiss.

“Take off that dress first,” I said.

“What are you going to do if I don’t?” she said. She slipped a hand down the front of the dress, across her breasts, down her stomach, and lifted the fabric to slide her hand between her legs, kicking off the thong. “Why don’t you come take it off me?”

“I don’t want to fight,” I said.

“Am I being a bad girl?” Bridget said, pouting.

“I don’t want to play this game, not with you in that dress that isn’t yours.”

“I’ll take it off after you fuck me in it. I look like her, don’t I? That gets you hard, doesn’t it? You know you want to fuck me in this dress.”

I turned to Kell for support.

“Bridget,” Kell said. “Maybe he wants to fuck you in that dress, but he also knows it’s wrong and an invasion of you mother’s privacy. Take if off, please.”

“Fuck me first, big brother.” Bridget wandered over to the wine bottle and poured herself some more, and threw it back with abandon. “I’m drunk, I’m horny, and I’m hot.”

Kell and I looked at each other. Finally Kell shrugged. “Fuck her, just try not to get anything on the dress.”

“That’s the spirit,” Bridget said.

I was feeling the affects of the wine. I turned back to Kell.

“I can barely tell whether I’m going to fuck my sister or my mother,” I said.

“What’s it matter? Just enjoy it.”

Bridget stood in front of me. The black satin was pulled down below her breasts. She pressed her chest against mine, I could feel her hard nipples through the thin fabric of my shirt. I looked down into her eyes. My sister, my mother, they blurred together. Who was this in front of me?

Bridget took my face in her hands, pressed her lips to mine. We kissed as she ran her hands hand down my chest to the front of my jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping them, pushing them to the floor, followed by my underwear. She ran her hand slowly up and down the length of my shaft. I was already hard as a rock and fully aroused, her strokes elicited a moan.

She disengaged her lips and ran her tongue down my chest, her breasts pressing against my cock, forcing it between them, smothering it. She massaged my cock with her tits for a moment, then slid her mouth down to tease the tip of my cock.

I glanced over to Kell. She had pulled off her top and was unhooking her bra, letting her breasts fall free. She massaged and pinched them as she watched. She slid a hand down her stomach, into her tights. Inside the fabric I watched her hand continue between her legs, making circular motions. She pulled an old easy chair that had been stored in the attic over, pulled the covering off, and took a seat, spreading her legs on either arm of the chair, and continuing to massage herself underneath her yoga pants. The dark stains of her juices soaked through the fabric. Her eyes were locked on Bridget and I.

I turned back to the dark-haired beauty on her knees in front of me in a black dress. Was she my sister? Was she my mother? The two flipped back and forth like an illusion where you see one thing when you focus on the solid spaces and something else when you focus on the empty spaces. Who was this? I wasn’t sure.

Who did I want it to be?

Whoever it was, she had her lips wrapped around the head of my cock and was doing things with her tongue that almost made my knees buckle. She sucked at the head like she was trying to suck out my come. She wrapped her tongue around the shaft just below the head, then slid her mouth down the shaft slowly. I felt as her lips passed every little rib in my meat, felt as my head slipped past the back of her mouth, past the base of the tongue and deep into her throat. I could feel the throat slime coating my cock. Finally her lips pressed against my body. I was completely inside her mouth, inside her throat.

But who was this again? I looked at her. Was it my mother? No, fuck it, it was my sister.

But why was I so hard at the thought of it being my mother?

Kell moaned and I looked over in her direction. Her yoga pants were in the dust on the floor of the attic and she had two fingers deep inside her slit. With her other hand, she massaged her clit. She locked eyes with me and smiled.

I turned back to Bridget – yes, it was Bridget, not my mother. Part of me was disappointed.

Bridget still had my cock in the back of her throat. She was sliding her head up and down the lower half of my cock frantically, almost like a head banger at a metal concert. It was possibly the most incredible blow job I had ever received. I closed my eyes for a moment, re-opened them.

Bridget was gone, my mother was there. She looked up at me with doe eyes as she sucked.

“Oh, mother,” I groaned. I wanted her to suck me until I came. I wanted nothing more than to fuck my own mother in that moment. Mentally, I knew it was Bridget in front of my, but emotionally, it was as if my mother was inhabiting her body. And all I wanted at that moment, was for that to really be my mother, and for me to be fucking her.

I pushed her head free of my cock, picked her up, and set her down on an old air hockey table we had stored in the attic. She lay back on the table, and I leaned forward, devouring her breasts. Her normally large brown aureoles were compressed and the nipples hard like arrowheads. I devoured each one in turn, licking the bumpy brown edges and sucking at the long tips. Bridget squeezed them, then reached around and pushed my face deeper in.

I looked up into her eyes and again had that disconnection where Bridget became my mother. Suddenly I was suckling at my own mother’s breasts. I ate greedily. But I needed more. I needed to be inside of her.

I wanted to fuck Bridget. I wanted to fuck my mother.

I leaned back from my attentions on her breasts, and gave my cock a few strokes, not that it needed it. I was already hard as diamonds, and I was ready to fuck whoever this was in front of me, Bridget or my mother.

Bridget slipped a hand down her stomach, down to her slit, and spread her lips apart, revealing the soft, wet, crumpled pink inside. Juice flowed freely down her ass cheeks and puddled on the table underneath her.

“Fuck me, now,” she gasped.

I slipped the tip of my cock in between her fingers, between her spread lobes, and into her sopping snatch. She squeezed her muscles tight as I slowly slid in. The ribs of my shaft bumping along the ribs of the muscles in her vaginal walls made me gasp and I had to stop for fear of coming before I was ready.

“Fuck, don’t stop,” she murmured.

I took a deep breath and pushed the rest of the way in until my balls were against her asshole. She moaned and I looked down into her eyes. Bridget – my mother – the two switched places in my vision as I began to slide in and out. The flesh of my cock and the flesh of her pussy pressed against each other, eliciting moans from both of us as Bridget gushed in her first orgasm.

The feel of her fluids pouring across my thighs, my balls, energized me, and I picked up the pace, sliding in and out. Bridget lifted her legs and rested her calves on my shoulders. I grabbed her thighs for leverage as I worked her slit over with my cock.

I looked over at Kell again. Her head was tossed back, her hard nipples pointing at the rafters above. The grool dribbling down the front of the chair showed that she was locked in her own little world.

“Harder,” Bridget murmured. I complied, turning it up another couple of notches. Bridget moaned as another orgasm washed over her. She arched her back, I reached out, gently squeezing her breasts, pinching the nipples, eliciting another groan.

I could feel my own orgasm building. I pumped even harder, frantically slamming my cock in and out. I looked up at Bridget’s face again, and again she was replaced with my mother. I held on to that image as I pushed towards climax. I wasn’t fucking my sister, I was fucking my mother. My mother who had fucked her own father and yet chastised me for being in love with my aunt. In my heart, I was fucking her.

My balls contracted. I pulled out, ready to blow.

“Not on the dress!”

Kell’s voice. Suddenly I was jerked to the side and my cock disappeared into a fury of curly red hair as Kell swallowed me deep and I came. I unloaded ropes of jizz into Kell’s throat as I stared at Bridget, who had passed out. Instead of my sister, I saw my mother laying there, her slit gaped and dripping juice, her tits pointing skyward.

When I had finally run dry, Kell pulled back. I looked back at my sister.

What the fuck. I wasn’t bothered that I had fucked Bridget – I pretty much knew that was going to happen the moment Kell and I decided to come out. What troubled me were my desires for my own mother.

What was happening to me? I was on a slippery slope. This wasn’t who I was.

Yes it was. This was where I came from. This was who my mother was, and I guess who I was, who Bridget was.

But where was this leading?

Did I care anymore?

Kell and I slipped the black dress off the unconscious Bridget and returned the locked chest to the state we had found it in, then we carried Bridget down to bed, then fucked one more time before we passed out.

The next morning we were all hung over. Bridget in particular suffered from the previous night and barely moved from the couch until mid-afternoon. Our appetites finally came back in time for dinner. I was preparing a chicken dish for the three of us when my phone rang, my mother’s picture on the display. For a moment, the previous night’s adventures came back to me, then I pushed them away and answered the phone.

“Hi mom!” I said as cheerfully as I could.

“Jacob, I have some bad news,” my mother replied, cutting to the chase.

“What? What’s going on?”

“Your father . . .”

“Dad? What about him?”

“He’s dead.”

[TO BE CONTINUED]

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