Getting Caught

by Beaverhunt

©Copyright 2020 by Beaverhunt

Introduction by ahorsewithnoname: Beaverhunt was a member of my writing website for a number of years. My understanding is that he encountered serious health problems. He hasn't been seen in over three years. As per the site rules, we're publishing some of his work here. We hope for the best for him.

Chapter 1

Yolanda

I’m just getting ready to start preparing dinner when I notice just how quiet it’s gotten. Drew and Bre have spent most of their lives fighting or plotting. I’d rather have them fighting than plotting, since plotting has never led to good results, like helping each other sneak out of the house to go to parties.

My husband and I never told them, but we knew every time. They didn’t come back drunk, at least not both of them, which meant one stayed sober enough to drive. They’re good kids for the most part. Never even had a problem with their grades. I just wish they would’ve put the grades to good use and gone to college, but neither have any interest in degrees; just like neither have any interest in getting jobs.

I don’t know why Billie tolerates them not doing anything. They graduated high school, Drew a year sooner than Bre, but he likes to coddle them. Billie makes more than enough to support them, but neither will take him up on his offer to get them an apartment and pay for everything so long as they get jobs. Drew and Bre continue to live here, rent and responsibility free.

They still go to a few parties, but not as often as they used to. Their friends are either in school or working. Those parties are the only times we can be ourselves in our own bed, which means spending time in the cabin. We’re still intimate when they’re home, but nothing like when they aren’t close by. There are certain things no children, of legal age or not, should ever hear their parents say in the throws of passions.

I don’t mind going to the cabin, but it’s not like we can be there every night. Billie has to work and the cabin’s too far away to commute. All I want is for us to be able to let ourselves go in our own house. No neighbors close to hear anything, not that it matters, since they refuse to leave and he won’t force his hand.

If we had normal fantasies, we wouldn’t be as cautious as we are around them. There’s nothing normal about fantasizing and roleplaying with our children in mind. My husband loves it when I play Bre every bit as much as I love him playing Drew. It’s exciting to be vocal about our roles, which is why he bought the cabin. Hotel rooms aren’t soundproofed.

Up until about four years ago, right after Drew turned 16, our bedroom routine was on the dull side. There was no excitement in our lives, and had resigned ourselves to living out a monotonous life. We both take our vows seriously and neither will ever do anything to break them.

It wasn’t Billie that started the fantasies about our children, which led to roleplaying, but me. He had never taken notice of our developing daughter until I put the thought in his head. There was a time when I never would’ve suggested any such thing, but those times are in the past.

The event that altered my course, and Billies, was hearing Drew moaning as he jacked off in his bed for the first time. He hadn’t realized just how loud he was when I passed his door. Most mother’s would walk away, but I couldn’t move. There was something intoxicating about hearing him pleasure himself, and still can’t believe just how wet it got me.

I went to my bedroom and had the biggest orgasm I’ve had in years. Thinking about Drew was incredible, as it’s been ever since. Not a day’s gone by when I haven’t been tempted go beyond fantasy.

I wanted Billie to desire our daughter the same way I desire our son. We’ve always been honest with each other, but didn’t come right out and say I wanted our son. There was no way I was going to just blurt out something like that. It’s all about the timing with such things.

I waited until we were in bed that night and started to work his shaft, and asked if he ever thought of Bre stroking him. My hand moved in the way he liked as I brought up other things to do with Bre of a very sexual nature. The more I worked him, the more vivid I got until he came hard on my hands.

The idea of being with her did excite him. How could it not? Here I was, the mother of our 16-year-old daughter, encouraging him to think of Bre in a sexual light. I made it clear that being with Bre would be just fine by me.

At one point, he asked if I wanted to be with Bre. The way I was talking, I can see how he got the wrong idea. When I told him it was Drew that I wanted, he knew I was serious. There was no anger as I licked his cum from my fingers and took his soft dick in my mouth to find the rest.

The idea of me and Bre being together was something that never did leave his mind. He’s done more than hint about what the four of us could do together. I’ve never been into girls, but Bre isn’t just any girl. There’s something I find exciting about being with her in the most intimate ways possible. It isn’t the same kind of excitement as thoughts of my son, but I can’t deny I have them.

That’s the moment we agreed to fantasize about our children. Both would try to get glimpses of the objects of our desire. Fantasy turned to roleplay, which was far more exciting than simple fantasy. We never did see much of our children, since we didn’t want to make it obvious. A bulge in his pants or hard nipples pressed against her shirt was the closes either of us ever got.

Billie and I agreed we wouldn’t rape our children. Neither of us could seduce them, and still can’t. Catching glimpses of our children is one thing, but to take action would guarantee results in my favor. It’s much easier to seduce a boy than a girl, which gives me an unfair advantage. It wouldn’t be fair for me to have what I want and deny Billie what he wants. We’re in this together.

Chapter 2

The real reason Billie won’t force his hand to get our children out of the house is he still hopes something’s going to happen. After 4 years in the same house with the same desires, it’s clear they aren’t going to jump into our bed to join us. It’s better to have them get jobs and live in their own apartments, since we wouldn’t have to wait for weekends to do what we enjoy most.

With my kids, there are two types of silence. The kind where music gets out from their rooms and leaving each other alone after fighting, and then there’s this kind of silence. No sounds at all, which means they’re plotting something from one of their bedrooms. They’re adults, which means they can plot anything they wish.

Most times it’s about sneaking out to parties. Again, they’re adults. They don’t need to sneak out to parties. They want to go to a party, they don’t need to plot anything.

There’s one reason for me to be concerned about their plotting. The last time it happened involved Billie’s single malt. He was furious when they had their own private party and finished off the bottle. Billie almost through them both out that night. At $500 a bottle, I’m surprised they’re still here.

I sneak down the hall as carpet cushions my steps and hear muffled noises coming from his room. Noises, not voices as I expected. Pressing my ear to the door to confirm the types of noises I’m hearing gets me a little excited. Sighs and moans come across, but they’re almost missed from just how muffled they are.

There’s only one explanation for those noises, at least there shouldn’t be anything else behind them. I reach into my pocket to grab my phone and start recording as my free hand carefully turns the knob. Muffled sounds remain muffled as the door opens without so much as a creaking hinge.

The scent of air freshener lingers as it always does. There’s something that’s never been quite right about a teenage boys room smelling this way. It should smell of all those scents that make it his room, but it hasn’t in a great many years.

They’re standing in the middle of his room kissing each other with a great deal of passion and muffled pleasure. Tongue’s fight with closed eyes, at least his are closed and I’m assuming hers are as well. Her long, brown hair, normally tied back tight, is flowing freely around her, and I’m getting it all on video.

Her narrow fingers press against his bulging pants as his squeeze her cheeks. Neither are naked, which is a shame. This would make for a much better video if they were. I’m wondering just how far they’re going to go and won’t do anything to reveal myself as I get a good closeup of his tongue in her mouth.

I wonder how long this has been going on, since the kiss isn’t anything other than knowing each other in an intimate way. They’re hands move almost in unison as both squeeze for the other’s pleasure. Moans become a little more intense as a little sweat drips down his forehead. I’m panning down to catch their hands in action, since Billie’s going to enjoy seeing it later.

I wish I could press my fingers down my pants as I watch, but can’t let on that I’m enjoying this. They’re kiss comes to an end and his green eyes open to see me without so much as a smile on my face. His hands pull back from her pants as she opens her brown eyes to see the expression on his face that shouldn’t be there.

Her lips part beneath her pale face as she looks at him with a lover’s concern. His are open a little bigger from the shock of being caught beneath his olive face, the same as me. Perhaps that’s why I wanted him for so long, more than just the same tone, but the same face and black hair as me.

She turns towards me with a wondering look and freezes with hand on his bulge as a panicked voice calls out. “Mommy. This isn’t what you think?”

He nods next to her as her hand finally pulls away, and speaks in the same panic. “Are you recording us, mom?”

I laugh, before speaking in a serious tone that isn’t real. “Recording my children breaking the law for evidence. Incest is illegal.”

Her eyes widen. “That’s not what we were doing, mommy.”

I challenge her as I continue to record. “You were just kissing your brother. Not the way brothers and sisters should kiss, but his tongue in your mouth kind of kiss. That’s incest.”

Drew calls out with even more panic in his voice. “We weren’t...”

I snap as I stare at both of them. “I know exactly what you were doing. Just like I know what was going to happen if I hadn’t been here.” They both shake their heads together as they try to come up with something to say to defend themselves. “I don’t want to hear it from either of you.”

I stop recording and put my phone away before continuing. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to get your asses to the living room and sit on the couch. At opposite ends. I want space between you two perverts.

“You’re going to stay there until your father gets home. I don’t want to hear a word out of either of you. When he gets home, continue to keep your mouths shut.

“Your father and I are going to discuss what’s going to happen. You better hope he’s in a good mood, or your asses are going to prison for a long time.

“Do I make myself clear. Don’t say a word. Nod.” Their heads bob and fear creeps onto their faces. “Good. Get your asses out of this room.”

They rush out in silence as I smile with an urge to call them back, but won’t get things started without Billie. My pussy aches from desires that must be denied for the moment, which has left a rather large wet spot that my children were too frightened to notice. I’m glad he’s going to be home soon. I don’t trust myself not to get things started with Drew.

Chapter 3

Andrew

It was a day from hell to add to the terrible week I’ve been having. I can’t believe that arrogant fuck tried to take credit for my work. He can try, but I’ve got the proof. He’ll get his in the end.

He walks around like he has a stick up his ass. I should give him a swift kick to get it a little deeper. Then again, if that stick were any deeper, he’d be tasting his shit. Between the stick and his head, I don’t know how the fucker gets any work done.

That’s alright. I’ve got the proof. That fucker went too far this time. He’s been taking credit for everyone else for years, but no one will ever say anything. They’re afraid because of his relation with the boss. I’m not afraid. I bring more value than anyone else around, and the boss knows it.

I need to breathe. Traffic’s behind me. Only one day left until I can take Yoli to the cabin. I just want to get home, pour myself a little scotch on the rocks. Not the great stuff there for celebrating, but the good stuff. There’s nothing like a good single malt to take my problems away.

Once I’m no longer thinking about that thieving fuck, I can think of more pleasant things. I’d like to think about the cabin, but such thoughts of our debauchery will have to wait until we’re there. Tonight, it’s just the two of us in bed.

I just need to get through tomorrow without losing my temper. Present my evidence to the boss at our meeting on Monday. Make it clear the thieving fuck steals from everyone on the team he’s supposed to run. If all goes well, he’ll be gone and I’ll get his job. I’m due for a promotion. I’ve busted my ass, and it hasn’t gone unnoticed.

I put the car in park and get out as single malt calls my name. I’ve no idea why anyone would drink scotch that is anything other than single malt. If you’re going to drink scotch, it has to be the good stuff.

With briefcase in hand, and a pleasant breeze at my back, I head towards my door. Scotch on the rocks and sex with my wife. I can get through tomorrow, and then it’s fun at the cabin with Bre.

I must push thoughts of my daughter back until the cabin. We’ve kept our secret from them all this time and won’t risk anything now. We’ll both get what we want in time. I don’t know how it’s going to happen, but it will.

If I hadn’t been so angry about them drinking my expensive scotch, right from the bottle, I could’ve made something happen then. You don’t drink single malt from the bottle. That’s just wrong in every way it could possible be wrong. It’s to be savored, not downed like the cheap stuff.

It’s just a matter of time until they fuck up again. I just hope it doesn’t cost me another bottle before it happens. Next time, I’ll have a cooler head, since Yoli will make certain I don’t just blow up at them. We’ll talk, like we should’ve talked that night, and she’ll remind me of the benefits of them fucking up.

I’m opening the door, and can almost taste the single malt on my tongue. My wife will have a glass of wine. No need for dinner tonight. Scotch and sex with my wife to give me the strength to get through tomorrow. Then it’s off to the cabin.

I close the door as the warmth of the house greets me, without the normal scent of dinner. Warm is so much better than cold. It makes it easier to strip away our clothes and remain over the covers. My wife has a sexy body that I love to look at.

Yoli’s tits make for great viewing. They’re that perfect in between of small and large with brown nipples that stand out so wonderfully from her olive skin. To feel them in my hands, to kiss and suck those hard nipples, to get them a little harder is something we both enjoy.

Enough of such thoughts. Single malt, then there’s time for such thoughts. Considering the day I’ve had, I’m almost tempted to drink it a little quicker. I might as well drink it out of the bottle. Savor the scotch, then savor my wife.

I’m loosening my tie as I see Yoli standing on the other side of the couch. Her hands are pressed against her hips. Drew and Bre are sitting at opposite ends without looking over at me. The look on her face tells me they did it again. I’ve told them just how difficult it is to get, but they just had to do it. We’ve got other shit to drink, but they just had to take the good stuff.

Her voice confirms my suspicions. “We need to talk.”

I shake my head a little, and move to stand before them. Neither will look at me. They’re both guilty of drinking my scotch. My expensive single malt that will take at least a month before they’re shipping out anything, if not longer.

My voice snaps out at them. “What did you do?”

If I could’ve included something about my scotch, I would’ve. My entire body trembles as they jump a little at my question, but won’t look at me. They just sit there looking guilty.

Yoli presses her hand beneath the crook of my arm. “It’s not your scotch.”

I couldn’t have heard her right, and tear my eyes away from the guilty to look at Yoli. “What?”

She doesn’t so much as crack a smile. “They didn’t drink your scotch. They did something, but not what your thinking.”