This story is part of a trilogy; you should read “Gary’s Mom” and “Voodoo Moms” first.
All characters are 18 years or older.
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Fucking idiots! I screamed.
Nobody turned to look of course because I had vented my frustrations to myself. The only apparent measure of my anger was the loud clicks of my heels on the once-polished floor of the school hallway, now populated by more than a few teenagers blatantly skipping classes, and the firm set of my jaw. I burst through the double doors which sprung back lively to crash together as I stomped down the cement steps to my car.
Where did they get their degrees? I should call them and tell them what an embarrassment their graduates had become.
No evidence of bullying? Then why the fuck did they think my son was afraid to go to school? A good student suddenly refuses to go to school for no reason at all? Give me a break!
I dropped my keys, bent to pick them up, still fuming, fumbled them again, picked them up, couldn’t get the key in the door, felt my arms and jaw to rigid, and yelled out loud, “FUCK!”
Several students and a couple of teachers turned to look. I tried the key again. It worked, so I got in the car, threw my purse on the passenger seat and put the key in the ignition but instead of starting the engine, I grabbed the steering wheel, leaned forward until my head hit the wheel, and cried. The teachers didn’t approach the car to offer help.
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“I’m home,” I called.
Nobody answered but the house wasn’t empty. I knew Gary was upstairs in his room where he would have been all day. He didn’t even come down to eat anymore. At first, John tried to get our son to come down for dinner and wouldn’t let me take his meals upstairs but eventually we gave up.
During the day, I found evidence of Gary’s excursions seeking food when I was away. I guess his hunger could overcome his fear of the great unknown outside his room. Or maybe he wasn’t afraid of being in the rest of the house when it was empty. Maybe he just wanted to avoid contact, to be alone, unless absolutely necessary. God knows, he didn’t want company when he ate his dinner. For a while, I waited in the hallway after hearing Gary in the bathroom but he always seemed to know I was there and wouldn’t come out until he heard me go downstairs.
Eventually, I lost hope and resigned myself to supporting the live-in recluse my son had become. I started going out on the flimsiest of excuses, any reason to get out of my dismal home. Finding evidence of Gary’s scrounging for food while I was gone no longer raised my hopes. To make things worse, John became more distant, often missed dinner, and sometimes didn’t come home until after I had gone to bed. Maybe he was having an affair—Who could blame him? Our home was as exciting as a tomb—but more likely, he just wanted to avoid being home as much as possible, just like me.
I went to the gym, not so much to become fit as to get away. I took photography lessons, cooking lessons, tried golf, shopped until I was bored to tears, joined a book club, and had coffee with friends until the day I noticed their conversation change when they saw me coming. My mind wandered when I was with them anyway. I might be avoiding home but my thoughts were always with my son.
What had happened to him? How could I help him if I didn’t know that? I had tried but couldn’t find the answer and that had paralyzed me. Well, no more! I had to find a way to engage my son. Gary wasn’t going to spend the rest of his life hiding in a room.
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A week later, I was at my wits end and ready to throw myself off a cliff. It didn’t matter what I did, what I said, what I offered to entice him, Gary just wouldn’t come out of his room. What was in there? Did he play games all day, look at porn, was that it? I didn’t know for sure but sensed there wasn’t anything keeping him in his room. He was truly afraid of going leaving.
We tried another round of doctors but they didn’t do any better and after two months of that, we gave up again. School was now out but Gary hadn’t missed finishing Grade 12. The school had come to its senses and let him finish his courses and write his tests online but he refused to go to the graduation ceremony let alone any parties.
Only one thing was going right in my life: I was exercising so much to relieve the stress that I lost a lot of weight. I hadn’t been so light since my early thirties and was in much better shape but it was too good to last. I started getting headaches and pains all over my body. I stopped going to the gym but found another excuse to get out of the house: massages. They felt great and helped with the headaches but couldn’t rid me of the constant aches that prevented me from exercising. However, one massage therapist, my third I think, recommended a solution.
“Jenny, I can’t get a massage every time I want to exercise.”
“Well no, I know that but you can get a body doll.”
“A body doll?”
“Yeah,” Jenny said. “I know it sounds stupid but several of my clients have tried it and they all swear by it.”
“So, how does that work?”
“Well, you do exercises at home but before and after you do them, you massage the doll.” She laughed as she ended, I guess realizing how silly it sounded.
“So how is massaging a doll supposed to make me feel better?”
“I know, sounds silly, doesn’t it?”
“Well, the doll is supposed to be an image of you, so when you’re massaging it, you’re actually massaging yourself. It’s based on the notion that you know best where you hurt and will subconsciously massage yourself in the right places and in the right way.”
I was skeptical but went along for the ride. “So, where am I supposed to get a doll that’s an image of me?”
Jenny laughed in a way that showed she was embarrassed about what she was going to say next. “Well, there’s this old black woman that sells voodoo stuff. She makes personalized dolls.”
“A voodoo doll? Am I supposed to stick pins in it?” I teased.
“Not unless you’re a masochist,” Jenny laughed. “Seriously, several of my clients have tried it and they say it really works.”
“How much are these dolls?”
“I think they’re about fifty bucks.”
“And are there’s a special exercises plan to go along with the doll?” I asked, smelling a sales pitch.
“No special exercises. Just do your regular routine. I’ll show you some good ones to do at home and instead of stretching before and after, you massage the doll.” Jenny tittered. “Then, if you feel better, you can start going back to the gym.”
“Well, it’s worth a shot,” I sighed. “I’m starting to gain weight again.”
So, on top of everything else, I started exercising at home and massaging a doll that looked like me. My life was a pit.
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I felt silly the first few times I massaged the doll but, strangely, I did feel better. Not only did the pain stop but the stress disappeared as well. I began feeling good about myself. I had lots of energy and I looked good, not only in the mirror but in the faces of men glancing my way a sure-fire measure of attractiveness.
My husband, however, hardly noticed which made me even more convinced that he was having an affair. Surprisingly, I didn’t really care that much. It actually allowed me think clearly about what to do about Gary.
I didn’t have any new ideas about how to solve my son’s problem but I was no longer depressed about it. I was confident that I would come up with something. We had relied on the doctors and they had failed us, twice, so we had given up. I now knew that wasn’t acceptable and, rather than convincing John, I decided to handle it on my own, as soon as I came up with a plan.
The solution came upon me by accident and, at first, I didn’t recognize it for what it was. I was about to begin my exercise routine when Gary surprised me. I was sitting at the kitchen table, finishing my fruit bowl with one hand and absent mindedly massaging the doll with the other when Gary shuffled into the kitchen.
“Oh,” he said, surprised. “I didn’t know you were home.”
Obviously, because he hadn’t called for me to bring his lunch. It was well after one so he must have been starving.
I surprised myself by not jumping up to get him something to eat, which would have been my normal response. Instead, I said, “I’m about to start my exercises so you’ll have to get yourself something.”
Gary shuffled over to the counter and put some bread in the toaster, then got some peanut butter from the cupboard. He was wearing a pair of flannel pajamas that looked like he’d been wearing them for at least a week. I bit my lip.
I only had one slice of orange and two slices of peach left in the bowl when I realized that Gary was watching me. Of course… it was the doll. He had seen me exercising before but hadn’t seen me massaging a doll, especially one that looked like me. It must have looked weird. I was about to explain, then thought better of it. Maybe a puzzle was just what his crippled mind needed.
I toyed with my food, cutting each slice in three. I studiously avoided looking at Gary so he could observe me without feeling self-conscious about it. He opened the fridge to get some jam, closed it, and walked slowly back to the toaster. I knew he was looking at me rather than where he was going. He was so fascinated by what I was doing, he bumped into the counter. Unconsciously, I rubbed the doll more slowly, just as I had slowed the pace of eating, as if they were part of the same process.
The toast popped up. Gary pushed it back down.
“What dear?” I responded without looking up from what I was doing.
“Nothing,” he mumbled.
I rubbed my thumb up the front of the doll, over its breasts, and back down. I couldn’t see him directly but I knew his eyes were glued on what I was doing to the doll.
“Your toast is burning,” I said a minute later.
Gary popped the toast up but rather than spreading his peanut butter and jam while he was at the counter, he put the toast on a plate and carried everything to the table. For months he had minimized contact with us and now here he was joining me at the table. Excitement surged through me.
Gary sat down and busied himself with his toast. I avoided eye contact, concentrating on massaging the doll, and I knew Gary was just as focused on it. I hadn’t seen him pay so much attention to anything for months. I kept massaging the doll after I finished eating, which I had stretched out ridiculously long. Finally, I felt I could hardly justify carrying on so I got up, leaving the doll on the table, and put my bowl in the sink.
I walked behind Gary and stopped by the end of the table, before leaving the kitchen. I stretched, holding my arms above my head, tipped my head back and shook my hair, then arched my back and tensed my legs and buttocks. I told myself I needed to expel the thrill coursing through me, but in reality I was parading my new, buff body shamelessly in front of my son. Clad in a tight-fitting black leotard covered by a blue, swim-style, leopard-decorated suit, I knew I looked good and, subconsciously, I wanted confirmation that it was me and not the doll that my son found so fascinating.
“I feel great,” I sighed.
What the hell was I doing? All I knew for sure was I didn’t want Gary to go back upstairs. In the living room, I started my routine with a series of stretches, pausing in poses that weren’t my regular stretch points. I kept my back to the kitchen but was aware when Gary got up to stand in the doorway to watch me. All I could think of was what to do next to keep him downstairs.
I bent over to touch my toes and managed to touch the floor many more times than I had before. I rose up with my legs still spread, tensing my thigh muscles and glutes, shook my hair and stretched sideways, sliding my hand down the outside of my leg, first the left, then the right, again and again. My ears were peaked, straining for signs that my son was still there, watching me.
When I turned around, he seemed startled but before he could escape, I said, “You can watch TV if you want. I won’t be in the way.”
Gary flushed red and ran up the stairs.
I wasn’t disappointed. I was ecstatic!
This was the ticket. Nothing we had done, or the doctors had done, had drawn Gary out of his shell but we had all overlooked the obvious. Gary was a typical teenager, probably a virgin, and likely thought of little else than the pussy he craved but hadn’t yet enjoyed. Even as a recluse, he was probably still interested in girls and I was the only one in the near vicinity. If I could activate his fantasies, despite being his mother, I could gradually use his teenage libido to lure him out into the real world where his lust could be transferred to a more appropriate target.
This was it. This was the plan that would save my son.
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The next day, I made my lunch and waited for Gary to call out, determined to ignore him until he ventured downstairs to make himself something to eat. Long after lunch would have been ready, his bedroom door opened and I heard him shuffling down the stairs. I picked up the doll in my left hand, looked at the magazine I had spread on the table beside my bowl of fruit, and stabbed a slice of peach. I knew I looked good. I had warmed myself up with a short routine to bring color to my face and checked myself in the mirror to make sure the leotard made my legs look good, that the exercise suit didn’t overly restrict my breasts, and that it molded nicely over my butt.
Gary poked his head around the corner. I rubbed my thumb up the front of the doll.
“Did I miss lunch?” he asked.
“You did,” I said.
Gary didn’t seem perturbed. Without complaint, he shuffled to the counter and put bread in the toaster, then turned and looked at me. I ignored him, delicately sliding a slice of peach between my lips and massaging the doll without a break. Gary watched in silence.
The scene was surreal. We were together yet apart. I dangled my crossed legs under the table, knowing my foot extended out the side toward Gary, drawing his attention to my carefully painted toes which had consumed almost an hour of my morning. Whiffs of perfume occasionally overpowered the fruity odor emanating from my bowl.
Gary’s toast popped up and he pushed it down again. I picked up the peeled banana that I had laid on a side plate and slowly slid the tip into my mouth and just as cautiously bit off the end. I chewed slowly, constantly rubbing the doll with my thumb. I was halfway through the banana when the toast popped up again. Only then did Gary get the margarine and jam from the fridge.
At the table, he buttered his toast as I used one finger to poke the rest of the banana deep into my mouth. My thumb slipped down over the doll’s torso and rubbed its thighs, brushing up and onto the suit it wore that matched my own, the proud result of an hour’s sewing the night before. I turned the page of the magazine, my thumb resting on the doll’s pelvis, not quite still. Gary spread jam on his toast, slowly, as if he needed to stay in time with me.
I finished my fruit at the same time that the first slice of toast had disappeared. While Gary began spreading margarine on the next slice, I got up, put my bowl and plate in the sink, then sauntered out of the kitchen. I stopped before the doorway and stretched as I had done the day before but for longer and in an even more exaggerated pose. The only sound I made was a long, satisfied sigh.
I went into the living room. My fingers had barely touched the floor when Gary’s body blocked the light from the kitchen. I looked between my legs to verify his presence in the doorway. He was leaning against the jamb with a slice of toast in one hand. He didn’t say a word.
I pulled myself up and touched the fingers of my right hand to the floor in front of my left foot, holding it in an extended stretch. Rising slowly, I arched my back before doing the same with my left hand and right foot, conscious of my right cheek thrusting toward the left under the leotard. Rising again, I touched the floor between my open legs, stretching down until my palms grazed the carpet, knowing that the swollen area between my legs was wantonly pouting, begging to escape the confines of the leotard. Joan, you hussy, I reprimanded myself. But it’s for a good cause,” I replied.
I repeated that routine many times. After a while, not hearing a sound from Gary except an occasional munch on toast, I rose up and started sliding my palm seductively down the outside of my left leg, then the right. I carried that on for another several minutes. I pretended I didn’t know Gary was there.
I straightened and paused, trying to think of what I could say when I turned around and pretended to see him. What could I say that would stop him from running upstairs? I can’t describe the thrill that flooded my chest when he walked past me and sat down on far end of the couch, then picked up the remote. He forgot for a moment to turn the TV on. I felt like running outside and screaming in delight. It’s going to work!
I was facing Gary now but turned around to face the TV so he could continue to watch me unobserved. Several times, I stretched a leg up, like I used to do in ballet class, grabbed an ankle and held my foot by my head. I felt terribly guilty holding this pose that couldn’t help but fill the male mind with awe at how wide a woman can open her legs. I hadn’t done it since my first boyfriend came to pick me up after class and watched me through the waiting area window, a trick I had learned from Hayley, who used to tease the other girls’ fathers waiting for their daughters, an act that made her quite unpopular with the girls if not the men. I knew exactly what I was doing.
My back wasn’t directly facing Gary. By looking at the TV, I was facing about thirty degrees off directly away from him, far enough that I couldn’t see him so he could safely watch, but enough to show the profile of my left breast from behind. I stretched my other leg up and hugged it to myself, then bent over to touch the floor again, bouncing my palms onto the rug, thrilled with my brilliance. On the first touch, I peeked through my legs and saw Gary gawking at my ass.
This was definitely going to work!
I was careful not to peek again. Gary had to be able to safely watch, comfortable in the knowledge that I was facing away. I concentrated on doing my regular routine so I didn’t blow it by being awkward or self-conscious. On the floor, I twisted so I could watch the TV to increase Gary’s confidence that I wouldn’t suddenly look his way. When I pulled my knees up to my chin, I held them there much longer than usual, keeping the leotard stretched tightly over my bum. I turned onto my left side to scissor my legs and when I did the right, I switched head and feet so I could keep facing the TV. I scissored my legs until I couldn’t lift them anymore.
Despite the show, I was surprised Gary didn’t bolt for his room until I remembered the pajamas he was wearing. He probably had an erection and was afraid to run past me in case I saw it. I smiled, amused and pleased by the thought of my son sitting on the couch behind me with a bit hardon. It’s for a good cause, I reminded myself.
I gave Gary lots of warning before I got up and joined him on the couch by walking into the kitchen first to retrieve the doll. His hands were resting on a pillow strategically placed on his lap when I returned. I almost burst out laughing but managed to turn it into a coughing fit.
I massaged the doll for ten minutes. Finally, it struck me that Gary couldn’t leave until I did because whatever he was hiding under the pillow was unlikely to subside while I was sitting beside him playing with the doll. I mumbled something about getting a shower and left. As I pulled the leotard down my leg, I heard Gary rushing up the stairs. Too late, I saw that I had left the door wide open. Gary hurried by, still clutching the pillow in front of himself, as I sat frozen in an artistic slice of ordinary domestic life, a woman undressing, nude except for a leotard dangling from her toe.
Gary’s door banged shut and, this time, I did burst out laughing though I leaned over and muffled the sound in the covers. A moment later, I recklessly crept down the hallway to my son’s room and listened at his door, a triumphant smile breaking out when I heard the distinctive sound of male masturbation. Unashamed, I swung my arm up, bent my elbow and closed my fist.
I wasn’t ashamed. I had found the key to my son’s salvation.
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Gary was upstairs when John came home from work and remained there through dinner which proceeded as usual, quiet except for the sound of chewing, knives and forks scraping on plates, and the occasional clink of a wine glass returning to the table. Quiet, that is, until I explained my idea to John.
“You’re joking, right?”
“Why do you say that?”
“Gary’s sick. There’s something wrong with him, and flirting with him isn’t going to fix it.”
“There’s nothing wrong with our son. He’s just been bullied. All he needs is a reason to go back outside and the confidence to do it,” I retorted.
“And you cavorting in front of him is going to do that?”
“No,” I drawled. “My ‘cavorting’, as you call it, will make him think of girls and that will make him want to rejoin the land of the living.”
“It’s a little unconventional, Joan.”
“Not really. Boys always have a thing for their mothers, don’t they?”
“Sometimes. If they’re not ugly, I guess,” John laughed.
“Your mother was attractive when she was younger. Did you have the hots for her?”
“I’m surprised you have anything nice to say about my mother,” John neatly side-stepped the question.
“I said when she was younger and quit avoiding the question. Did you think about her when you were a teenager?”
“I suppose?” I laughed.
“Yes, I guess I did, but I was much younger than Gary. I think it’s a little late for a maternal fixation.”
“Uh huh. So what first attracted you to your Mom?” I persisted.
John leaned back, crossed his legs, uncrossed them, then crossed them again.
“I don’t remember.”
He didn’t want to talk to me about it but, knowing me, knew it was unavoidable. I suspected he was trying to buy time to think of how little he could get away with telling me.
“Yes you do.”
John took a deep breath. Resigned, he said, “I guess it was… one day I was watching her hang clothes on the line, something I’d seen her do a million times before, but this time, as she was stretching up, she lost her footing and almost fell. Well, as she reached out to grab the post to keep from falling her hand knocked a button off her blouse. When she hung up the next shirt, I could see her brassiere and quite a bit of her breasts feeding into it. I watched her hang the rest of the clothes and later, when we were having lunch, she hadn’t fixed the blouse. I watched her all day.”
“Naughty Johnny. Think how we could have spiced up a few nights if you’d told me this years ago,” I teased. John ignored me.
“The thing was, Mom didn’t fix her blouse all day but just before Dad came home, she changed it. That night, I woke up and heard my parents having sex. Mom was particularly loud. I had heard my parents having sex before but it was just the sound of the bed springs and my father huffing and puffing. From then on, though, I heard Mom almost every time. I stayed awake on Saturday nights because I knew they were going to fuck. On Saturdays, if Mom forgot to do up one or two of her buttons, I couldn’t wait until bedtime because I knew she’d be enthusiastic. She always was on those days.”
“Jesus, John. No wonder your mother never liked me.”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“Did you ever…”
“No,” John interrupted. “That’s all Mom ever did.”
“For how long?”
“Years, I guess. After Dad died, she always had her blouse partly undone when I visited alone.”
“Even after we were married?”
“Yes,” John replied. He spoke so softly I could hardly hear him.
“John. I’m just trying to get Gary interested in girls so he’ll quit hiding in his room.”
“I know, Joan. It might work, but be careful.”
“Yeah. Don’t get to liking it like my mother did.”
“John, don’t be ridiculous. It’s not something I’ll enjoy, it’s something I’ll do for our son.”
“I know.” John’s voice was still low. His mind was somewhere else.
“You might have to be scarce for a while. Not that you haven’t been already.”
“It’ll take time for this to work and Gary needs to know that we’re alone and not in danger of being surprised.”
“I thought you were going to say we need to start fucking really loud.”
“We haven’t been fucking so I don’t know where that comes from.”
It was my turn to interrupt.
“Actually, I don’t think we should have sex for a while. I think it might help if Gary thought I wasn’t getting any.”
“Why would he think that?”
“Because we haven’t been doing it. You haven’t exactly been here.”
“I don’t want to hear it and I don’t care anyway. I don’t know whether you’re getting it somewhere else or if you’ve just lost interest, like me.”
I reached out to grasp John’s hand.
“I wouldn’t blame you if you were. I know I haven’t been here for you. Look, we’re both stressed out but if we can fix this thing with Gary, I think we can fix ourselves as a side benefit. Let’s leave it at that, shall we?”
“Okay. I’ll stay out of the way, for our marriage.”
“And for our son.”
“Of course, but just a little flashing, okay?”
“Of course. What do you think we’ve been talking about?”
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For the rest of the week, Gary and I settled into an after lunch routine. I waited for him to come down for lunch, finished mine while he made his, and we both repaired to the living room. I exercised while Gary ate his lunch and watched TV, and me. After every session, Gary waited, his eyes fixed on the TV and the pillow held firmly on his lap, while I massaged the doll. He always waited until I went upstairs. Within a minute, he would rush by the open door of my room and I would sneak down to his closed door to confirm what I already knew.
John kept his word and came home later and later, missing dinner three times that week. Near the end of the week, Gary appeared downstairs in the late afternoon. I happened to be making a Moroccan dish. Gary didn’t explain his appearance. He simply sat down at the kitchen table and watched me move about the kitchen . I was wearing a wrap around a body leotard, almost my uniform these days.
I talked constantly, partly because I was nervous and partly to make Gary comfortable. It was meaningless chit chat, nothing requiring a response and so relieving him of any pressure to do so. I was simply trying to make the situation seem normal while my body movements made it anything but.
When I was finished, I sauntered over to my son and got him to taste my creation, leaning over and delicately inserting several olives into his mouth, one at a time. It was an innocent act, though seductively executed. The leotard and wrap covered me completely but Gary looked at my breasts anyway. I asked him if he would help me make some new dishes the next afternoon and he agreed.
The next day, Gary didn’t rush by my room so fast. I was sitting on the other side of the bed with my back to him. I heard him pause and knew he was right outside my door. I stretched my leg out high and straight, leaned forward and pushed the leotard off my foot, then did the same for the other. Somehow, I managed to twist sideways a little so my breast swung out far enough for him to see its swollen fullness. I stood then, slowly so as not to startle him, and walked, stark naked, into the bathroom, pausing in the doorway to turn on the light, then turning and disappearing from his sight, allowing a brief glimpse of my breasts in full, thrusting side profile.
I could hear him before I even got to his door, breathing harshly, erratically, the sound of his fist furiously beating his cock. When I turned away, I was surprised to find my hand covering my own sex.
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The next day, I happened to be looking at the TV when the screen went blank and I saw Gary’s reflection. He was holding the pillow with his left hand and slowly stroking his cock with the right. I stifled a gasp and almost stopped moving but caught myself and acted like the exercise had just become particularly strenuous. I was shocked. I had initially assumed Gary was just getting hard while watching me and even entertained the notion that he might be touching himself under the pillow too but to actually see him stroking his bare cock, even in the dim reflection of the blank TV screen, was a tad unsettling.
I guess I shouldn’t have been that surprised. After all, it had been a week. I imagine when Gary first started touching himself, his cock grew big enough to poke through the hole in the front of his pajamas. Over the week, it was a natural progression to touch it, even take it out and stroke it, secure in the knowledge that I never, ever turned around to look at him. Perhaps I had done my job too well.
That same day, while Gary helped me make some gourmet snacks and actually chatted with me, I asked him if he would keep me company outside in the sun. He was hesitant at first but succumbed to my will after twenty minutes of wily, womanly cajoling. Gary did sit on the patio lounges with me but steadfastly refused to venture farther from the safety of the house. Nevertheless, it was an amazing accomplishment in our small world.
Later that afternoon, while in the mall on some errands, I ran into Sandra and then Vanessa, both mothers of boys Gary had played with when he was younger. We became good acquaintances if not friends attending games and stuff with the kids. I always like Sandra and admired her greatly and her kid was nice whereas Vanessa’s was a bit of a brat. Without thinking about it, I told Sandra about the doll and how I had accidentally stumbled upon a plan to lure Gary from his room. She seemed a little shocked but relaxed when I explained that I simply wanted to revive his teenage instincts sufficiently for him to want to rejoin the planet. Sandra laughed and remarked that she doubted she would be able to entice her own son in such a way so thankfully there was nothing wrong with him.
“Oh gosh, Joan. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean… oh, I feel just terrible.”
“Don’t worry. I know you didn’t mean anything. It has been hard, Sandra, and I’m ready to try anything. I have no idea if this will work. So far, I’ve only managed to get him to come downstairs for lunch and sit in the patio. In fact, I don’t think he’s really interested in my old body, he’s probably just hungry.”
We both laughed, and a few minutes later, Sandra left. I wasn’t worried that she’d say anything. Sandra was a private person and I was confident she wouldn’t tell anyone about our conversation.
Before I left, Vanessa passed by and sat down. I knew Vanessa was having tremendous difficulty with her own son and knowing that she knew about the problems we were having with Gary, I confided my success, perhaps primed by the sympathetic reaction from Sandra.
I was tentative at first but Vanessa’s obvious interest loosened my tongue. I didn’t spill everything but let enough out that she knew I was trying to use womanly charms to encourage Gary to get out of the house. Vanessa was captivated by the approach and I see in her eyes she was already planning how she could do the same thing to curb Billy’s juvenile behavior.
“I think Billy’s getting into drugs,” she confided.
“No. Gary isn’t?”
“No, definitely not. At least, I don’t think so.”
“I’m not a hundred percent sure about Billy either but he’s getting out of control and something is driving it. I’ve got to do something about it. You say this teasing thing really works?”
“Well, I’m not sure yet but I’ve managed to get him out of his room.”
“And you used a doll?”
“Yes, from this Voodoo woman.”
“Voodoo woman? Oh, you mean that black woman with the strange store across from the mall?”
“Yes, that’s the one.”
I wished I hadn’t said so much to Vanessa and wanted to limit the damage so I didn’t explain the connection with massage therapy. The last thing I wanted was Vanessa dropping in to interrogate Jenny and gossiping about my success with Gary. Thank God, that was enough for Vanessa and she left soon after. As I watched her confident, former-model body steer between the food court tables, I pitied her brat son. She reminded me of my mother-in-law, God rest her soul. Billy didn’t know what he was in for.
- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -
The next day, I managed to capture several glimpses of my son in the blank TV screen and confirmed what I thought I’d seen the previous day. Gary was definitely stroking himself while he watched me. And why wouldn’t he? I never, ever turned around to look at him while exercising so he should feel safe to touch himself until I finished my routine, which by now he probably knew by heart.
Far from feeling I had gone too far, I was tremendously pleased. His obvious desire raised my confidence in the plan. The motivation was there, all I had to do was continue leading him down the path to its eventual, inevitable conclusion.
I found a way to reward Gary for his trip out to the patio. I stopped mid-routine and, inanely complaining about being hot, removed the bathing suit, and left myself clad only in the body leotard. I wasn’t wearing a bra or panties. It was like I was naked, except for a second skin. I carried on with the rest of my routine and even extended it with exercises I made up on the spur of the moment, anything that allowed me to stretch and arch my body.
It was an outrageous exhibition, one which made me feel deliciously naughty. I squirmed and preened on the floor in front of my son without shame, knowing there wasn’t an inch of me he couldn’t imagine naked under the tight black leotard that covered me so revealingly. I denied the thrill I felt as anything but exaltation in the knowledge that when I asked, Gary would willingly follow me anywhere in the yard I asked him to go. Next week, I would talk him into accompanying me to the store, just the corner store, and I wouldn’t even ask him to get out of the car, but it would be a huge step and I was positive now that he would do it. My plan was working!
Finally, I stopped, exhausted. While I lay there, breathing heavily, knowing Gary was watching my gently heaving bosom, a thought entered my mind and I acted upon it before considering the consequences.
He gasped. I had never spoken to him before while exercising. There was a rustle as he frantically covered himself, probably learning too late how difficult it was to conceal a hard, springy cock.
“Yeah,” he croaked.
“Be a darling and get my doll from the kitchen for me.”
He was stalling, likely afraid to get up until the big lump in his lap subsided.
“Yes, my massage doll. I left it on the kitchen table.”
“Come on. I’m so exhausted I can’t keep my eyes open.”
I closed my eyes and opened them a slit just in time to see Gary go past. In the kitchen, he turned toward the table to retrieve the doll, exposing the reason for his hesitation. The front of his pajamas looked like a tent. I was impressed by its size. I shut my eyes as he returned.
“I put it on the couch,” he said.
“Can you do me another favor?”
“Can you massage the doll for me?”
“Awww, Mom. I’ll feel silly and, anyway, I don’t know how to do it.”
“It’s easy, you just rub it gently, all over, and it isn’t silly. It really helps me.”
There was a rustle as Gary picked up the doll.
“You just rub it?”
“Mhhhmmm,” I murmured, wiggling to ready my body for its ‘massage’. “Start with the feet and work your way up,” I suggested.
I waited half a minute then sighed, “That feels good.”
After that, I was silent except the occasional murmur or pleased sigh. Periodically, I wiggled. I suspected that after a few minutes, Gary rubbed near my breasts so I arched my back slightly and purred. I opened my eyes a slit but couldn’t see what he was doing except to note that he was enthralled. I think I could have sat up and looked right at him without being noticed.
“Oh, that feels good,” I murmured.
Despite his initial objection, Gary seemed to enjoy massaging the doll. I was sure he wouldn’t mind doing it more often, maybe even both before and after my routine. I rolled over onto my tummy, twisting so my bum was pointed toward my son, and parted my legs a little.
After thirty seconds or so, I sighed and arched my ass up a bit, tensed my legs and glutes, relaxed, and settled back into the carpet. I repeated this every minute or so and squirmed my ass around. I couldn’t have been more obvious unless I got up on my hands and knees and turned around to pout at him.
I gave Gary lots of warning when I was ready to quit, giving him time to put the pillow in place. I leaned over to kiss him on the forehead in thanks, adding a longer one on his cheek, my lips just catching the corner of his mouth.
“Thanks, son,” I husked.
I sauntered slowly up the stairs, exaggerating the sway of my hips and pushing my bottom out with each step. Once in my room, I quickly removed the leotard instead of just pushing it down so Gary could covertly watch me slip it off my feet before I stepped into the bathroom for my shower. I lay back on the bed, covered my eyes with a crooked arm, arched my back to push up my naked breasts, and waited for the sound of his footsteps. When they arrived, I held my pose for a couple of minutes, sure he was watching, then lazily turned away from him onto my side. There, I let my upper knee slide off the other onto the bed and pulled it up a bit, positioning my exposed ass in its most inviting pose.
I don’t know how long Gary watched me so I waited for a long time. At some point, I dozed off.
For the rest of the week, Gary massaged the doll for me while I squirmed around appreciatively on the floor in front of him. I had replaced the mat with a comforter to provide a wider range for movement on the floor. My stretches were always more languid during the ‘post’ massage than in the warm up and by the time we were done, I was very warm indeed. I may have been doing this to save my son, but it wasn’t a hardship. Being the focus of such intense appreciation was like doing a feel-good drug, mellow yet stimulating.
I toyed with the idea of getting Gary to actually touch me. I could just turn around, maybe while lying on my back, and stretch my feet up for him to massage directly rather than via the medium of the doll. I thought hard about the potential benefits of direct touch but eventually vetoed the idea as too dangerous, thinking about the effect on my son. Had I though about the effect on myself, I would have realized how dangerous it really was.
In the afternoons, Gary followed me around the yard, helping with the gardening and just generally keeping me company. I always wore a loose blouse and usually baggy or tight shorts but sometimes put on a short skirt. There was plenty of opportunity for Gary to look down my blouse or peek between my legs as he stood above me while I squatted or kneeled to work on the garden. Initially, I had worn my flimsiest bras, the ones designed to be worn with an evening dress or a low-cut blouse, but on Thursday I went braless because I was working up to getting Gary out of the house altogether, just a short trip to the store.
On Friday, Gary arrived downstairs to find me eating my lunch dressed only in a body stocking. It was much like the leotard but it was flesh-colored rather than black, and thus easier to see through. The legs were shorter, extending barely halfway down my thighs instead of to my ankles, and both the back and the front dipped low, the back rounded while the front dove into a deep V.
I had found the body stocking while searching the bottom of a drawer because, what with one thing and another, I was behind with the laundry and had run out of leotards. I held it up to the light but rejected it as too revealing. On second thought, I held it up again and whispered, “Wow.” A delightfully wicked feeling shimmered through me so strongly I ignored my nattering conscience which quickly faded as I sat down on the bed and pulled the stocking on.
When he first saw me, Gary stopped dead in his tracks, mouth open. I didn’t tease him, I just quietly handed him the doll.
“We’re late. Why don’t you warm me up… uh, massage the doll, while I make your lunch.”
Gary sat down, his eyes soaking in the body stocking, or more accurately, the parts it didn’t cover so well. I glanced at him and he started massaging the doll.
“I want you to have some fruit,” I said. “You’re going to get scurvy the way you eat.”
Gary nodded in the compliant manner he had adopted of late. I put his typical two pieces of toast in and then brought him a banana. Since he was holding the doll in two hands, I peeled it for him, slowing pulling down each strip, and nibbled a small bit off the top before handing it to him.
Before Gary could release a hand from the doll to take it, I said, “Oh, right, you’ve got the doll. Here, I’ll feed you while you work on the doll.”
I put the banana to Gary’s lips, “Go ahead.”
His thumbs rubbed up and down the front of the doll as I pushed the banana into his mouth, leaning over in an exaggerated fashion to give him an eyeful.
“They’re good, aren’t they?”
I put the banana into my own mouth, lifting Gary’s eyes from my breasts. They widened when I pushed the banana deep into my mouth and then slid it all the way out.
“Sorry, I forgot it was your banana.”
I snagged another small bite and then pushed it into Gary’s mouth. He took a large bite. The toast popped, so I finished the banana and swayed over to butter Gary’s toast, making sure my butt wiggled with each swipe of the knife. Gary devoured the toast and we moved into the living room. I lay down on the comforter and immediately began squirming around, trying to avoid eye contact with Gary’s bulging erection.
“Gary, I want you to keep me company while I go to the store.”
“To the store?”
“Yes. There were some rough-looking fellows hanging around the last couple of times and they make me nervous. You’ll come, won’t you?” I asked, closing my eyes as I arched my back sharply to thrust my breasts upward, forcing my nipples into the body stocking.
“I don’t know, Mom. It’s been a long time since…”
“Please, son. I’m a little frightened.”
I rolled onto my left shoulder, then my right, twisting toward him and stretching to emphasize my breasts.
“I’ll try,” he mumbled.
“Thanks. I knew I could rely on you.”
I treated Gary to a command performance. I had become jaded over the past few weeks and where I was formerly hesitant to adopt more lurid poses, I now had so such inhibitions. I no longer worried that my posture was ridiculously provocative, I was only concerned about whether it was sufficiently sexy to make Gary want me as a woman so I could lure him out of the house. I thrived on my success, knowing Gary jacked off quietly while he watched me on the floor and that he couldn’t wait until he reached his room to finish himself off. However, toward the end of my extended routine, Gary voiced doubt about his ability to leave the house.
“Mom, I’ll really try to go with you but I might not be able to make it,” he whined.
I stopped and sat up, my back to him, and legs tucked to one side.
“I really want you to come, Gary.”
“I know. I’ll try, Mom, but I don’t think I’ll be able to do it.”
It was only then that I noticed that we had forgotten to turn on the TV. The screen was blank and I could see Gary’s reflection, sitting behind and slightly to my left, pillow in one hand and his cock in the other.
“I want you to really try, son.”
I lifted my right hand up to my left shoulder as I spoke. Gary watched intently, and didn’t answer. I looked sideways and slipped my finger nails under the body stocking on top of my shoulder and urged it over the edge, then turned the other way and did the same on the other side. Gary sucked in his breath and stopped breathing.
“I really want you to come,” I repeated.
I pulled the body stocking down to my elbow on my left side, then did the same with my right.
“You will come, won’t you?”
Gary was silent except for his raspy breath.
I pulled my left arm out of the stocking’s sleeve, then turned and did the same with my right.
“Will you come?”
Gary remained mute. I pulled the body stocking down my waist until it rested on my hip, turned to look down at my right side and slowly did the same there.
“Yes,” Gary whispered his answer.
“Yes,” he hissed.
I turned halfway then, but not far enough to see him.
“Thank you, son.”
My tits slung out from my chest, nipples stiff with excitement, and I leaned slightly to one side to emphasize the curve of my spine and the slender length of my neck. I completed the rest of my floor routine half-naked. Gary couldn’t contain himself sufficiently to remain completely silent. The sound of his hand moving up and down on his cock disturbed the air but was ignored by us both, despite its electrifying effect on the air between us.
I didn’t warn Gary when I stood up. I simply turned and caught him, hand in lazy mid-stroke, suddenly shocked into immobility. Ignoring his plight, I stooped to kiss him, the upper part of the body stocking hanging down from my hips. I kissed his forehead and then placed my lips on his, leisurely kissing him as if I was pecking him on his cheek, only longer. Nonetheless, the casual brush of my lips on his made his manhood lurch, and when I say manhood, I mean manhood because it was long enough to nuzzle between my dangling breasts.
“I’ll be ready in half an hour,” I whispered.
I didn’t remember to put on my sexy walk as I climbed the stairs because my body was still tingling from my brazen act and the turmoil it had caused in my mind. I couldn’t believe what I’d just done. I hadn’t heeded John’s warning and now I had gone much further than I ever intended but that wasn’t what bothered me the most. I would do what it took to bring back my son and I sensed it would take more than watching me prance around in a leotard to get him back into the world. So what bothered me so much? That was easy: I hadn’t expected to enjoy it so much.
How did John know to warn me? That question added to the caldron in my mind and made me wonder how well I knew my husband. What had really happened between him and his mother?
Gary rushed by a few minutes later, trying to get to his room before he lost his load. I followed him down the hallway a couple of minutes later. Though his door wasn’t completely shut, I couldn’t see inside, but I heard him feverishly beating his meat and hoarsely muttering my name.
Whack, whack, whack.
Realizing I was naked outside his door, I became self-conscious and turned away. I had to pull my hand from between my legs.
I’m in control, I assured myself. I’m in control, I repeated.
- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -
“Where are you going?” Gary asked nervously as I drove past the corner store.
“Just to the mall. It’s only a little further.”
“Mom, you said the store,” Gary complained.
“No, I said I was worried about some tough guys hanging around the mall.”
“Mom, you said the store.”
“Did I? Well, you know I meant the mall. Why would tough guys be hanging around the corner store?”
“Mom, it’s too far.”
I put my hand on Gary’s thigh, patted it to reassure him, then slid up a couple of inches, squeezed, and left my hand in place.
“It will be fine. You can stay in the car but watch me until I get inside in case there’s any of those guys around.”
We were already approaching the mall parking lot. I turned in and Gary pushed back into the seat, resigned and slouching, an action that pushed his hips forward, forcing his bulging jeans, warm and throbbing, onto the edge of my hand. I steered to an area of empty parking spaces far from the doors, knowing Gary would be alone and wanting to limit any possible interaction that would make him bolt. Reluctant to remove my hand from between his legs, I put the car in Park with my left and reached awkwardly through the steering wheel to turn off the ignition. I didn’t want to leave the keys in the car.
“I’ll be back in a jiffy, son,” I said, looking around to see if anyone was nearby. We were alone. I leaned over and kissed Gary on the cheek which put pressure on my hand, the one pressing on his crotch. As I brushed my lips over his skin, I wiggled my little finger.
“Wait for me,” I whispered.
I rushed off and didn’t look back, afraid I might see Gary already getting out of the car.
In the mall, I rushed toward the pharmacy. I needed to buy something to make it look like there was a reason for going. I felt the urge to hurry, worried now that I hadn’t gone far enough to offset Gary’s fears. The lingerie store caught my eye. Why not? I hurried inside and made a bee-line directly to the young girl at the counter.
“Where are your negligee’s?” I demanded abruptly.
The girl was startled but to her credit responded quickly, “Right over here,” immediately leading the way.
Obviously competent, the young woman pointed me right at my size for their more expensive line. I grabbed a black, lacy set.
“I’ll take this one.”
Even given my whirlwind entry, the girl was taken aback by the speed of my decision but she handled it well. Sensing my urgency, she took the negligee to the counter. She didn’t bother asking me if that was all I wanted.
“Will that be cash or credit card?”
She was already ringing it up and by the time the register spit out the receipt she had wrapped the negligee and put it in a stylish bag. She took my money, quickly returned the correct change, and thanked me for coming in. It was at that point that I noticed she was very pretty and quite healthy looking.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m in a real hurry.”
She smiled pleasantly. “We’re here to help any way we can.”
“You’ve been awesome. Thanks.”
On the way out of the mall, I ran into Sandra and her son. They were talking as they walked, both obviously interested in their conversation and each other, and looked almost like a couple rather than a mother and son. I felt a twinge of envy.
I want that with Gary.
I couldn’t avoid them so I walked on, hoping they were too distracted to see me but Sandra did and smiled, clearly pleased by the encounter.
“Hello Joan. It’s so nice to see you.”
“Oh, hello Sandra, and Jeff,” I nodded to her son.
“I’m so sorry to hear about Gary’s problem with Billy.”
Jeff looked uncomfortable and Sandra’s face immediately took on the expression of one who realizes she’s said something she shouldn’t have.
“Anyway, I can see you’re in a hurry. Call me if you feel like talking.”
I nodded, not sure whether I was confirming that I was in a rush or that I would call. I walked away, speeding up as I neared the door. What was that all about? I pushed the incident out of my mind, worried that Gary might have fled. Had I pushed him too far? I burst through the doors and immediately locked my eyes on the car. Thank goodness! He was still there.
Relieved, Sandra’s mention of Billy returned. Vanessa’s son? Did he have something to do with Gary’s problem? Anger flooded through me. That little bastard. I would give him a piece of my mind. More than that, I’d…
I looked up. Gary had stepped out of the car.
“Are you alright? Did something happen?”
I smiled to relieve his concern. “No, I’m fine.”
“You looked upset.”
“No, no. I’m fine. I guess I was a bit more nervous than I thought.”
I opened the car and got in. Gary did too and closed the door.
“Maybe it’s genetic,” he mused.
“Yeah. Maybe I got this thing from you?”
I frowned, not comprehending. Gary waved at the parking lot. Ahhh, I must have looked panicked the way I had raced to the car.
“Maybe,” I said. “But we can handle it, can’t we, especially if we work through it together?”
“Let’s go home.”
- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -
John was home when we arrived. When I opened the door he was waiting, worried as hell, but when he saw Gary with me his face relaxed. He was absolutely tickled that Gary had gone out with me. After Gary went upstairs, he hugged me and gushed, “I can’t believe it, Joan. Whatever you’re doing, don’t stop.”
I laughed nervously, needing relief too. It had been a stressful day. “Ye of little faith.”
“Not anymore.” John hugged me again, squeezing hard.
“Hey, be careful with the goods,” I complained.
John released me. “I wouldn’t want to do that, not when they’re working so well.”
“John!” I gasped, flashing a look upstairs.
John looked properly chastised, and lowered his voice. “It’s amazing what a woman can do with a little attention and a few poses,” he laughed.
“We have our ways.” Thank God he thought that’s all it had taken.
“You’ve brought back our son, Joan, and I love you for it.”
“Is that all you love me for?”
“No, of course not.”
The thought made me think of how inattentive my husband had been for so long and, for some reason, it made me think of what Sandra had said.
“I saw Sandra today and she said something that implied Vanessa Hammond’s son might have had something to do with Gary’s problem.”
John looked suddenly uncomfortable.
“John, did you know about this?”
“No. Well, I heard something to that affect and thought I should have a talk with his father.”
“His father? He doesn’t wear the pants in that family. I’ll have a talk with Vanessa.”
“Joan, maybe you should just let it lie. You’re having amazing success with Gary. Let’s not do anything that will change that. We can deal with the Hammonds later.”
That made sense and some of my anger melted away but I wasn’t entirely convinced.
Gary joined us for dinner that night and John was completely blown away by his easy interaction with us. Afterwards, in bed, I had to press upon him the need for him to stay in the background so Gary didn’t feel pressured.
“I still need lots of space to work with him. He’s a work in progress.”
“Okay, babe. I’ll stay out of the way.”
“I’m still pissed at Vanessa.”
“It’s not her fault, Joan. It’s her bratty little kid.”
“I know, but it makes me so mad.”
“If it will make you feel better, I’ll talk to her.”
“I just don’t want her kid interfering now that I’ve got Gary on the right track.”
“I’ll talk to her,” John consoled me.
That night I didn’t sleep well. I dreamed about John and his mother engaging in forbidden acts, things way beyond what I’d done with Gary. Did I need to justify myself by imaging that John had committed worse with his mother? I was particularly unsettled when John’s face was replaced with Gary’s and then his mother’s with mine but the worst part of the dream was when Gary became John again and his mother ‘s face was replaced with Vanessa’s.
I looked a lot like John’s mother. Some people used to joke that he had married his mother which really pissed me off because I wasn’t like her at all but, now that I thought about it, Vanessa was, a lot. They had the same domineering personality whereas I was normally quite shy and even submissive. Perhaps that’s why Sandra and I got along so well. Anyway, when I awoke I was uncomfortable about sending John to talk to Vanessa but reminded myself of the importance of focusing on my own mission—saving my son—especially now that success was so near.
- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -
The next day I didn’t wait for Gary to start massaging the doll. I sat on the comforter in front of him and immediately peeled the body stocking from my shoulders, then launched into a long series of stretches designed to display my body rather than relax my muscles. I was grateful for all the exercising I had done and realized, ironically, that if it hadn’t been for Gary’s problem I wouldn’t be in such good shape and ready to offer the solution which seemed poised to deliver him from a lonely fate.
Every nerve tingled as I undulated before my son, flexing my unblemished skin and supple muscles. Was this tasty feeling the one John had warned me about? Had his mother confided to him her inner feelings or had he observed it and capitalized on its intoxicating effect?
I didn’t know. All I knew was I felt wonderful knowing how much my son desired me and that, by simply displaying my wares, I could make him feel so good. I could hear him now, playing with himself and openly enjoying my body, unafraid.
I swung down onto my back and started working my legs. Curling up my behind, I took us to another level, grasping the waistband of the body stocking and tugging it over my buttocks, stopping as a tease, then continuing slowly, sliding the meshed material along my thighs to my knees. I slipped the stocking over my knees and pushed it up to my feet where I hooked it on my toes and let it dangle above my face.
My bottom, now completely exposed, was thankfully pointed away from Gary. Why thankfully? Such lewd exposure seemed gross to me, as it would any woman, but I knew men loved it, except John, at least, as far as I knew. I had never done anything like this in front of my husband but in stripper bars they always pointed their ass at the customers, spreading their legs for the disgusting beaver shot. Ugghhhh.
However, I wasn’t quite ready to see if it would appeal to my son. But why not? He was a typical teenager and that’s why my solution was working. Should I not to the distance and let him see?
Well, if you didn’t want him to see, why did you uncover yourself?
Why indeed? I lifted my legs and let the stocking drop onto my face. I couldn’t bring myself to engage in such lewd behaviour without some protection, even if only this fragile anonymity. I swiveled on the floor, turning just enough for my son to get a glimpse of what I had exposed.
He gasped. I swiveled more toward him. Whack, whack, whack. I couldn’t see it but I could hear his hand moving faster and faster. I turned my ass right at him, keeping my legs high and bending my knees until they were above my face. I’m a wanton little hussy!
Gary was breathing harshly, gasping for air. I could tell he was about to come. I threw my legs out and snapped up onto my knees, ripping the stocking from my face and tossing it aside. Gary’s face was almost purple, so much blood and oxygen had rushed to his penis. His eyes were wide. I grabbed his cock, displacing his hand. My other hand circled his nuts and squeezed hard. Gary’s eyes almost bugged out of his head but his cock softened, just a tad, but enough to halt the imminent gusher in his balls.
“I want you to go to the mall with me this afternoon,” I cried.
“Okay, Mom. Okay.”
“Inside,” I hissed.
“Yes. I want you to come inside with me.”
“Mom, I can’t.”
“You can, if you want to enough.”
“No, Mom. I can’t.”
“You can,” I repeated. “Do you want to?”
I moved my hand up and down once. Gary’s eyes widened in shock.
“Do you want to?” I repeated, stroking him a second time.
“Tell me,” I demanded.
I stroked him twice and loosened my grip on his balls.
I tickled his balls and started a steady stroke, up and down, up and down, slowly, gripping his cock tightly, squeezing up to the head, rubbing its underside with my thumb and grazing over the helmet with the tip of my index finger.
“Promise on your love for your mother.”
I bent my head, blew hot breath onto his cock and fixed him with my gaze.
“I promise on my love for you.”
“Well, alright then.”
I pulled my hand back to fit Gary’s cock between my tits, and started jacking him with a nice, regular stroke. I wiggled my tits around his engorged cock and smiled. Gary was beyond doing anything but trying to breathe which was obviously a struggle for him. He lifted his hips, trying to fuck my breasts. He was close, very close. I laughed, throatily encouraging him.
“Come,” I cooed.
“I will. I promised.”
“No,” I said. “Come.”
Ahhh, the dawning realization in his eyes as he understood my invitation was so wickedly delicious.
“Come?” he asked.
“Yes, come; on my tits.”
I bent my head so I could see his purple, bloated helmet pushing through, appearing and then disappearing within my breasts. It surfaced again and I quickly blew hot breath on it.
“Oh, my God. Mom!” Gary gasped, his legs straining, going rigid.
I choked back a laugh of exhilaration. It was such a thrill to make him feel this way, this young man, my son, with his strong, young cock. I blew again, and again, and again. His legs repeatedly tensed with superhuman effort to thrust his pole through my tits.
“Come,” I urged.
He was beyond answering. He could barely breathe.
“Come,” I pleaded, wanting to feel his spunk splatter all over my breasts, a debasement I had never experienced before and would have rejected with disgust if asked, but not now.
The first spurt surprised me. I was expecting it on my tits, but Gary’s cock released its treasure when it poked through them, lobbing a thick string of white goo onto my chin and across my lips. The second sprayed my neck and the underside of my jaw. The third came when he poked through again, onto my face.
I couldn’t believe it. I pulled away as Gary’s hips lurched, spasmodically dispensing the rest of his spunk. I stood, and stumbled back, turned, and ran up the stairs, needing to get clean, suddenly not wanting my son to see me shamed like that.
In the bathroom, I turned on the water and bent over to immerse myself in its cleansing stream but, at the last second, raised my head and looked at myself in the mirror. Gary’s thick, sticky goo was strewn across my face and neck and was dripping onto my breasts. I laughed at my reflection.
“You wanton little bitch,” I scolded myself, a crooked smile twisting my face.
Gary knocked on the bedroom door while I was washing myself.
I didn’t answer, and he went away. I followed a few minutes later and heard him beating himself to climax again, crying out my name. This time, the door had been left wide open but Gary didn’t see me. His back was to me as he lay on his bed, hand dangling in front of himself out of my sight, moving rapidly in concert with his flexing buttocks. I loved their strength and didn’t leave until they went rigid, tightly clenched until he had dispensed his second load.
- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -
I didn’t take Gary to the mall until it was almost closing time. I led him straight to the lingerie store. The young woman recognized me; I guess I had made a bit of an impression. I was amused because I could read the assumption behind the look on her face, the calculation that explained my inexplicable rush to buy a negligee on my last visit. Gary looked much more like his father than me and I could see her comprehension mixed with surprise that I would bring my young lover into the store. However, she was a quick study and moved to meet us at the negligee section before I actually turned that way.
She was more attractive than I remembered and I patted myself on the back for the choice of coming here. If this young beauty couldn’t pull Gary away from me, nobody could. I set about getting her involved as directly and quickly as I could.
“I’m so glad you’re still open,” I gushed.
“We’re about to close,” she replied, indicating the partly closed sliding glass doors across the front of the store.
“Oh no,” I cried. “I have an emergency. I simply must get a few things,” I said, making a point of ignoring Gary but somehow managing to convey how central he was to my ‘emergency’.
The girl smiled sympathetically.
“Couldn’t you stay open for just a few more minutes?” I pleaded.
She was hesitant but succumbed to my desperation.
“Well,” she said, looking at the expensive underwear I had picked up, “why don’t you take those into the back so nobody can see you in the store while I close up. “
“Thank you. Thank you so much. You’re a lifesaver. Come with me, Gary,” I said, taking him into tow.
I found a fitting room in the back and started removing my dress, leaving the door open. Gary watched, obviously believing we were to be left alone and rightfully thinking I wouldn’t mind. I think he was truly surprised several minutes later when I turned around and addressed the girl. He clearly didn’t realize she had been there watching him watch me for a full minute before I spoke.
“What do you think?”
“I think it would look better in blue,” she replied honestly.
I agreed with her assessment. This girl wasn’t just interested in a sale, she was out to get a satisfied customer that would return time and again. She held up the same outfit I had taken but in midnight blue.
“Thank you,” I smiled appreciatively, leaning past Gary to take the garments. “No, don’t go. I need your opinion.”
I glanced at Gary in disdain, acknowledging our mutual understanding of male limits regarding clothes. I started removing the first negligee, then paused.
“I should know your name if I’m going to undress in front of you.”
“Maria, and you’re?”
“And?” Maria looked at Gary.
Gary was tongue-tied. “Gary,” I answered for him.
Maria smiled. “I’m here to help, Gary. There’s no pressure on you.”
I removed the negligee, leaving my own panties which I had kept on. I put on the blue ones, but removed my bra. I felt self-conscious about my breasts in front of this young woman but only for a moment. Gary’s eyes showed me how attractive my older, not-as-firm-as-they-once-were breasts, still were. They might be less firm but they still retained their shape and my nipples were, if anything, more prominent than they were when set upon their younger selves, and easily showed through the material of the negligee.
It was my turn to be surprised when I caught a glimmer of interest in Maria’s eyes. Perhaps there was more than a sales interest in this young woman. I seized upon the discovery, immediately realizing its potential to help me quickly attain my goal of getting Gary interested in a younger woman, and having her return his interest.
“That looks great on you,” Maria commented.
“Do you think so?” I asked, twisting back and forth, examining myself in the mirror. “It’s hard to tell with my own on underneath.”
“You can take them off,” Maria suggested.
“Really? Can you still sell them if I do?”
“Oh no, but we can use them as demos for the floor only.”
“That’s wonderful,” I said, immediately taking her up on the suggestion before she changed her mind, slipping both sets of panties down my legs. I turned my bottom toward both of them as I bent over, taking my time to daintily step out of the panties, separating them, and pulling the new ones back on as I let the others drop. A weird feeling came over me. I had never undressed completely in front of a woman before.
“What do you think?” I asked, preening in front of Gary and Maria.
“Wonderful,” Maria replied.
I cut Gary off before he could reveal our relationship. Not yet, anyway.
“Gary doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” I explained to Maria, “unless he can make a comparison.”
Maria smiled and nodded.
“Do you think you could help?”
“Please?” Maria sought further explanation.
“Can you help him compare?”
“I don’t… “
“What are you wearing?”
“Oh, I see. Um, nothing fancy, just my regular stuff.”
“I bet it’s not just regular, working in a store like this. Would you mind? Just for a comparison?”
Maria shrugged, then reached behind herself to undo her dress. She fumbled with it, which surprised me, working with clothes like she did. She turned her back to me, seeking help, but I turned her toward Gary.
“Help her with her dress, honey.”
Gary managed to undo the zipper and Maria actually blushed, her eyes fluttering closed. She was a real cutie. This was so much fun!
The dress hung loosely on Maria for a moment, then she shrugged and it fell to the floor. Gosh, she was built. Her breasts belied her slight frame and her slightly darker skin was beautifully textured, almost outshining the black bra and panties. They were a nice set, obviously from this store. Maria looked up, opening her eyes and standing demurely in front of me. We both acted as if Gary wasn’t there.
“Come closer,” I beckoned, “so he can see.”
Maria stepped closer to me.
“Closer,” I whispered.
Maria obeyed, until we were standing breast to breast, only an inch apart.
“What do you think, Gary?” I asked, looking over Maria’s shoulder, my eyes shushing him.
After a few seconds of silence, I made a suggestion, “Perhaps if he could just concentrate on the panties? They’re his favorite part.”
Without waiting for an answer, I pulled the negligee off my shoulders and let it drop to the floor. I was standing naked in front of this girl, this stranger, except for my panties. I felt suddenly exposed.
Maria hesitated, then slowly reached behind herself and released her bra. She shrugged it onto her forearms and bent to let it fall off and onto the floor on top of the negligee.
“What do you think, Gary?” she asked.
“Closer,” I urged.
Maria complied. Our breasts touched, electrically, nipples grazing one another. Gary’s breathing became noticeable and I smiled, my lips only millimeters from Maria’s.
“He looking down there,” I told Maria, barely loud enough for her to hear. Maria nodded. “Come closer,” I whispered, tightening my buttocks and pushing my mound forward.
Maria didn’t comply but she stood her ground. Our nipples grazed past each and our breasts mashed together, then our panties met, rustling, mound to mound. Gary groaned. The heat from Maria’s steamy mound almost made me swoon as our private parts sought each other, pressing, seeking alignment, then finding it as our grooves fit together, perfectly. My lips nibbled hers as I initiated our first kiss.
A key rattled in the door.
“Oh, my God. It’s the manager!” Maria cried, pulling back.
I grabbed my dress from the hook and Maria stooped to pick up hers.
“Quick,” she urged. “Go out the back.”
We stumbled to the back of the store, both struggling to get out dresses on, Maria’s face frantic except for when she looked at Gary, at his groin, and the large lump there.
“Let me help you,” I gasped, pulling up her zipper.
“No, no,” Maria cried, coming to her senses. “Go, you must go!”
Gary and rushed through the door. It closed quickly, but quietly. That girl was on the ball. Gary and I were outside, behind the mall. I turned my back to him. “Zip me up,” I spoke calmly.
We walked around the mall to the car and were almost there when I caught Vanessa from the corner of my eye about to get into her car. I didn’t slow my pace but turned my head to look at her. She held my gaze, responding with the look of a woman who had a secret. It was a triumphant look.
- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -
John was home when we got back to the house. He offered to take us all out for dinner but settled for order-in. Gary went directly to his room.
“A setback?” John asked.
“No. Well, maybe. I’ll have to see,” I said.
“Well, we shouldn’t be having any more problems from that Billy kid.”
“Oh? You talked to Vanessa?” The image of Vanessa’s superior smile flooded back into my consciousness.
“Yes,” John replied.
“Then everything is settled?”
“Not quite. It’s a work in progress, you might say.”
I wasn’t happy with his answer but it explained Vanessa’s haughty expression, a look I hadn’t experienced since John’s mother passed away. That crooked smile meant only one thing to me: Vanessa was having, or at least initiating, an affair with my husband. Was she doing it to protect her son, to stop John from going to the authorities, or was she just doing it because she could? Had it actually been consummated, or would Vanessa be satisfied in the knowledge that she could have my man anytime she wanted?
I was surprised that I cared at this point but I did. I wanted my husband but I didn’t have time to fight for him now. Not at this moment, anyway.
“Can we talk about it later? I’ve got to be with Gary. It was hard for him out there today.”
“There’s no need to talk,” John said. “I’ll order in.”
Now I definitely knew there was a problem. I turned to go upstairs and almost stopped but managed to keep walking, though more slowly, up the stairs. The comforter was folded neatly and piled on the couch. I hadn’t done that and certainly Gary wouldn’t have folded it. We must have left it spread on the floor in front of the couch. I pressed on.
Gary was surprised by my entry. He sat up in bed, where he had been lying in his underwear, his hands covering his obvious erection. Leaving the door open, I went and stood close to him to help hide his indiscretion in case John followed me upstairs. From the size of his erection, I’m sure Gary was reliving the scene in the store.
“You didn’t let me know if you liked the new negligee.”
Gary looked up at me with a dumb expression on his face.
“I guess we were in a pretty big hurry to leave,” I smiled.
“So maybe you can tell me now, before our dinner arrives.”
My hands, which had been hanging by my sides, began sliding my dress up. Gary’s eyes widened and he looked around me to his open door and the hallway beyond. His father was out there somewhere he knew, but upstairs or downstairs?
I didn’t tell him. My hands rose further, raising the hem slowly, each inch further impairing Gary’s breathing, until it was apparent that I was still wearing the blue negligee. Gary’s eyes were riveted on my legs, or more accurately, on the shiny blue negligee now being gathered with my dress as it continued its journey up my legs. I kept pulling and knew the instant the blue panties appeared by the loud gasp Gary released.
“From now on, I want you to take me anywhere I want to go, shopping, hiking, swimming, biking, anywhere.”
Gary mumbled something.
“I can’t hear you.”
I placed my right foot a half-step to the side, parting my legs. Gary stared but didn’t do anything. I swayed my hips, bringing the blue panties closer to him.
“Do they look nice?” I asked.
“Yes,” he croaked.
“Do they smell nice?’
Gary looked up but quickly looked back down. I put my hand on top of his head but didn’t direct him in any way. He leaned forward an inch, and breathed in, deep.
It was an outrageous request. Gary didn’t need any further motivation to go outside. I knew he would follow me to the mall just to see Maria again, that I could slowly disentangle myself, leaving them alone, with each other. Maybe that’s why I was doing this, because I was afraid of losing my son completely. I needed to give him a little more to make sure he never left me for good.
The phone rang. I heard John answer it but he didn’t call out. It was for him, which was strange because he hardly ever received calls at home. His voice lowered and then I could barely hear him but not enough to hear what was being said. Was it Vanessa?
Gary breathed in again, a long, very deep breath, then exhaled slowly. He had closed his eyes.
I looked over my shoulder, down the hall. I still couldn’t hear what John was saying. I looked at my hand, still resting on top of Gary’s head. I pulled, urging it forward.
“Do they taste good?” I whispered, my voice trembling.
Gary’s head tipped forward until his nose pressed into my blue puffiness, then straightened a little as he thrust his chin forward. I felt his hand sliding up between my thighs. My own breathing became as ragged as his. Something warm and wet graced my mound, his tongue.
My knees buckled and I lurched forward. Gary’s free arm circled around my waist and the hand between my legs rose up to take some of my weight but his mouth, his mouth remained latched on the blue, silk panties. Gary’s tongue dug into the furrow between my lips as his mouth surrounded me, chewing. I fell further forward, losing my balance, but Gary’s hand no longer held me up, it was exploring, seeking, squiggling inside the panties. He was leaning back, across the bed, slowing my fall, his encircling arm keeping me from sliding off, holding me in place, on his mouth.
We collapsed with a silent bang, the bedsprings the only announcement of the illegal coupling of his mouth and my pussy. I hadn’t even tried to break my fall. The panties were being dragged down by Gary’s hand, its fingers hooked through the bottom. His mouth made contact with my bareness and his tongue immediately snaked into my cunt.
I was holding his ears though I couldn’t remember grabbing them. I pulled, trying to get his tongue further inside me, directing it, churning my hips over his face.
“Eat it!” I raged.
“Unnghhh,” I cried as his thick fingers shoved into me.
I humped his face, unconcerned for his comfort and no longer worried about my husband. I tried to tell Gary what to do but it came out garbled. I had lost it, lost all control. I ravaged his face, coming already, unbelievably, coming already. I turned my face into the bed and bit the covers, filling my face, muffling my orgasm, legs spastically jerking off the other side of the bed. I was done, relaxing, flooding with relief. I got up on my knees, worked my way back and then stood up, fitted the panties around my sex and smoothed the dress down over my legs.
“Dinner will be here soon,” I said, as if that’s what I’d come upstairs to say.
The doorbell rang.
“It’s here. Don’t be long.” I looked down at Gary, still sitting in his swollen underwear. “I’ll take care of that later.”
I turned and left. The self-recriminations started before I even reached the stairs. I had lost control, but worse, there hadn’t even been a struggle. I had no excuse and could no longer cover my actions with illusions of helping my son.
I wanted him. That was the cold, harsh reality. If his cock hadn’t been trapped inside his underwear, I might have forced myself upon it. The very thought of his youthful pole squeezing inside me made my legs weaken with desire, sending me sideways into the wall.
Get hold of yourself!
I had to recover, to refocus on my goal. Get Gary out of the house. Check. Get him acquainted with a girl. Check. Get him involved with said girl. In progress. What had happened wasn’t a disaster. In fact it was a stroke of good fortune for it afforded me the excuse to show Gary just how exquisite a woman’s attention can be. I owed him for what he had done in the bedroom and I would show him, then explain how I couldn’t go further because I was his mother. He would have to understand that. However, Maria could and I would offer to invite her over to get things started. I straightened up and moved forward with a new sense of purpose. I had a plan and the will to put it into effect.
The doorbell rang again.
“I’ve got to go. Yes, tomorrow. Okay. Really, I have to go.”
John had been on the phone all this time? The hair rose on the back of my neck. I had intended to deal with Gary tonight and then turn my attention to my husband tomorrow but it sounded like I had better start with John sooner rather than later. Gary would have to wait until tomorrow.
- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -
I feigned weariness and escaped to my bedroom much earlier than usual. There, I made a few minor preparations: placing a picture of John’s mother on my bedside table, putting on a little makeup so I would look like she did at my age, and dressing in one of her full-length, thin flannel nightgowns that I retrieved from a box in the attic. I was pleased with its low cut neckline. I had never seen her wear anything like it, only the ones that came right up to her neck, yet there were piles more like this in her things. I waited. About an hour later, I heard John’s footsteps approaching and was exiting the bathroom with the light behind me just as he entered the room.
The additional attention he paid me was obvious though I doubt John was aware of it or that he would know why if he was. I managed to draw his attention to my body with an ease that was surprising given his lack of interest for the past year or more. I knew when I crawled under the covers that his meeting with Vanessa was far from his mind and I was glad that John turned out the light quickly so I could hide the triumphant smile that couldn’t be stricken from my face. John’s hands quickly sought me out, tentatively at first but when they weren’t rebuffed he nestled in behind me. He was excited, very excited.
“I’m tired, John,” I complained but rubbed my bottom against his stiffness despite my words.
He nibbled my neck, something I loved. I wondered if his mother liked it too? John’s hand rubbed over my hip, pulling me back more firmly against his hard cock. Did she like it like that, from behind? We hardly ever did it that way, just the few times we’d both been drinking heavily at parties. I pushed back and wiggled my bum.
“I’m so tired, John.” I paused, to let the disappointing feeling of rejection sink in, then continued, “Too tired to help you much.”
I lifted my bottom up and let it settle onto his throbbing hardness, then turned my face into the pillow. John’s hands immediately started dragging the long nightgown up my legs. His breathing was already harsh and became positively ragged as he pushed the hem up and over my buttocks. His cock quickly followed, stabbing aimlessly. I groaned and twisted my hips toward the bed, away from his probing organ but opened my legs. He leaned over me, nestling between my legs and pushing them farther apart as his cock probed my pussy. I was surprised how wet I was. I moaned and John shoved himself inside me, his hands encircling my waist and then slipping up inside the bodice of the nightgown to grasp my tits.
“Oh God, it’s been so long,” he whispered, starting to fuck me.
Yes, it has, I thought but then his words jarred me. What did he mean by so long? Since he’d been with me, or his mother?
John was up to full speed already, slamming his cock in and jerking it out, showing no finesse or sense of control. His hands squeezed my tits roughly as he banged about on my ass, huffing and puffing with the effort. I cocked my hips and shoved my ass up off the bed, following him on the out-stroke, moaning loudly to show him how much I loved it. And I did! I was so wet, the sound of his cock squelching in my pussy filled the bedroom, even though we were still covered. The words just popped out of my mouth.
“Fuck it, fuck it!”
“I am, I will,” John cried, increasing his effort.
I pushed my ass higher and felt him rise up to position himself above me. His feet were beside my knees and his hands slipped from my tits to grip my waist, holding me as he sunk his shaft in deep, kept me still as he pulled out and banged back inside, expelling his breath, then again and again and again. I hung my head and propped it against the pillow, bracing myself for the onslaught, meeting each thrust with a welcoming parry of my own.
It seemed like John fucked me like that for hours but the intensity was deceiving; it was over in just a few minutes. John pulled out and dragged the nightgown down to cover my ass. I reached back to tug it down to my knees and when I stretched my legs John pulled the nightgown down to my ankles. I kept my face hidden in the pillow as he arranged the covers over me. John went into the bathroom to clean himself but when he returned I remained hidden in the pillow as if we had done something illicit. We went to sleep without uttering a word to each other.
- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -
“Gary. Gary, are you out here?”
No answer. I closed the back door and searched the house again. He was gone. I called his phone but heard it ringing in his room. Panic visited me again. I ran downstairs just as the door opened and Gary came in.
“Gary!” I cried. “Where have you been?”
“At the mall,” he answered nonchalantly. “I had a coffee with Maria.”
“You had a coffee with Maria?” I repeated, dumbfounded.
“Oh. Are you hungry?” I asked, still disconcerted. “I’ll make you something.”
“No. I had a scone.”
“Oh.” I looked around the living room, spotted the comforter still folded up on the couch, then looked down at my skirt and blouse.
“Why don’t you spread the comforter then and I’ll get changed.”
“You don’t need to get changed.”
“You don’t want me to get changed?’
I was perplexed. What was happening? Why didn’t Gary want to see me in the revealing body stocking? Jealousy flooded inexplicably through me. Of course. He had just seen Maria. So it had happened that fast? He had given me over so quickly for that little bit of fluff?
I had reached my goal but felt little exultation that it had been achieved. I knew Gary would lose interest in me but hadn’t expected it to hit me like a train or to be thrown off a cliff. I moved quickly to the couch, pulled the comforter off and spread it out on the rug. The doll tumbled out. It was naked. I stared at it. John must have found it and placed it within the folded comforter. I was still fixated on it when Gary sat down. I swung my gaze toward him.
“You don’t want me to change?” I asked again.
Gary shook his head and held his hand out, toward the doll. I picked it up and handed it to him. Gary took the doll but held onto my hand, pulling me toward him and down. I knelt before him. Gary laid the doll on his lap, face down. I looked at it, confused, my mind a muddle, then slowly came to grips with the message he was sending. Of course, last night, I had said, “I’ll take care of that later.” But there was no need. Gary was up and about on his own initiative. I didn’t need to do this. I shouldn’t do it, and I should tell him it was out of the question. I picked up the doll, and tossed it onto the couch. Gary smiled, and waited for my next move.
My hand returned to his lap, found the waistband of his shorts, and gripped it. My other hand found his zipper and pulled it down. I stopped.
“Take it out, Mother.”
I was shocked by his confidence and the commanding tone of his voice but I followed his instructions without question, pulling his underwear down with one hand and lifting his wonderfully virile cock with the other. I waited for further instructions but none came. I pulled my hand up, then pushed it down, up and then down, the growing stiffness of the meat in its grasp sending a thrill up my arm and into my brain. It had become hard so quickly, and grown so large.
When I reached a steady rhythm, Gary leaned forward and grasped my blouse above the top button. I pushed his cock toward him to give him room to unbutton my blouse but he surprised me, yanking his hands down and out, ripping my blouse open. Buttons flew everywhere and I gasped, yanking back on his cock but holding onto it to keep myself upright. Gary laughed, and reached for my tits. He squeezed them for a minute or two, roughly like John had the night before, but soon released them.
His hands found a new home, on my head. Gently but firmly, he tipped it forward until my mouth was hovering over his cock. Gary kept applying pressure until his tip dipped into my mouth on each upward jack. I could have stopped it by simply stilling my hand, but I didn’t. I kept jacking him off and he kept pushing my mouth further and further onto his hard cock. Soon it was slick with my saliva which I produced more of the further he pulled my head onto his cock.
Each time Gary pulled my mouth far down his shaft, he held me there for a few seconds before allowing me to pull off. Eventually, it was all I could do to gulp in some air before he pulled me onto his pole again, holding me down until my head shook with the need for oxygen. My head popped off with a wet, sucking inhalation and air rushed into my lungs through my mouth which drooled all over my son’s eager cock. Then came the drop, as far down as I could manage. Eventually I reached his root and Gary held me down longer, groaning, a sound I loved so much I twisted my head about, rubbing my lips in his pubic hair. He was using me, and I loved it!
There was no warning when he came. When his cock erupted, I had him fully inside my mouth, and his seed spilled like a flow of lava that couldn’t be contained. I tried to swallow it all but some dripped out, squeezing past my lips and running down his shaft. Gary loosened his hold so he could sink back into the couch but I leaned forward, following his cock, licking it, sucking the tip, licking the shaft, kissing the tip. I wasn’t ready for it to end.
Gary got up after that and made himself something to eat despite telling me he wasn’t hungry. I went upstairs to change my blouse. The rest of the day, Gary ignored me. By early afternoon, I was strutting around, trying to draw his attention to me. In desperation, I unbuttoned my blouse and literally hung my tits in front of him as he watched TV.
Gary looked at my tits, then up into my eyes. He stood and turned me around, sitting me down on the comforter with my back to the couch. Grabbing a couple of pillows, he stuffed them behind me. He undid his shorts and pulled his cock out which was already unlimbering to its full length. I felt triumphant, soaking in the thrill of confirmation, the satisfaction of making him hard. Gary grabbed my feet and pulled me down until my head was propped against the edge of the couch.
“No, Gary. You can’t. We can’t actually do it.”
But he wasn’t spreading my legs, or trying to lift my skirt. Gary straddled me and waddled past my knees until his cock was in front of my face. I understood then and, despite my need to deny him, felt disappointment. I grabbed his cock and started jacking it but he batted my hands away. I tried again with the same result. Finally, I leaned forward and took his tip into my mouth. He smiled and nodded.
Slowly, Gary began fucking my mouth, casually flexing his hips, each time shoving more and more of his meat into my face. Whenever I tried to exert some control by taking him in hand, he batted my hand away. Finally, he grabbed both hands and firmly planted them on either side of me along the front edge of the couch. Even when I let them fall to the floor, Gary replaced my hands on the couch. So I lay there, arms stretched out wide beside me, as my son fucked my face.
He took much longer to come the second time but released less spunk and was careful to get it all inside my mouth, leaving no mess to clean up on my face. He grasped my hair and gently turned my face up to look at him. His other hand reached down and quickly snaked up my skirt. Grazing his fingers over the gusset of my panties, he told me how he understood that I couldn’t bring myself to be with him that way.
“I know you can’t, Mom. I guess I’ll just have to lose my virginity with Maria when I’m ready.”
- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -
I had more sex in the next week than at any other time in my life. During the day I sucked Gary or had my face fucked at least twice, and sometimes more. I was flabbergasted by how much I liked having his cock in my mouth. I had never enjoyed going down on a man, even John, but the feel of Gary’s shaft sliding through my lips made me wet. Go figure. On the down side, Gary never put his mouth on me again. He did finger me after coming every time, playing with my cunt longer each time, but always leaving me hanging.
At night, I was so horny I was ready to rape John. I dug every sexy nightgown out of the attic that his mother had owned. It was a ritual after supper for me to go upstairs, put on a nightgown but no panties, apply old style makeup and wait in bed for my husband to fuck me, or rather, the memory of his mother. John always did me from behind, clambering aboard, straddling my thighs and rocking his cock in and out until we both came, literally out of breath. Each time, I hid my face as he gently rearranged my nightgown, and not a word was spoken.
Gary started fingering me at various times during the day, usually catching me by surprise. Unable to predict when he would ‘attack’, I always wore a skirt or a dress and never wore panties. The downer was that he never took me all the way. He always left me hanging but that didn’t stop me from opening my legs the second I felt his hands slithering up my skirt, and I squirmed on his fingers all the more frantically.
He liked to fuck my face while I was sitting up in bed. He had made up a couple of small ropes with wide loops at each end, one end of which he would loop over the headboard posts and the other around my hands. It didn’t make sense because they were so loose I could slip my hands out at any time but I never did. I dutifully kept my hands in place until he was finished and often stayed like that long after he was gone.
I didn’t even try to free myself when Gary started undressing me completely, not even when he spread my legs and pressed his knee against my sex while he shoved his cock in and out of my mouth. One day, he didn’t put his cock in my mouth but instead kissed and licked my tits and sucked my nipples in so hard I almost came twice. He rubbed his cock all over me and once hovered over my pussy and blew his hot breath on it.
“Let go,” he whispered. “Free yourself.”
I thought about what Gary said and wondered why he liked to tie me up in ropes that couldn’t possibly hold me. I think I knew why. He had imprisoned himself in his room. Only he kept himself there, and only he could free himself. Oh, maybe he couldn’t have done it without my help but it wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t wanted it to and only he could keep himself free. He was trying to show me that I was living in my own prison and, in his own way, he was trying to show me the way out.
Gary left early every morning now but was home before lunch for the first facefuck of the day. One such morning, after he had finished, he leaned close to me and whispered, “Maria’s going to be ready for me soon.”
- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -
Maria’s going to be ready for him soon, or, more to the point, he was going to be ready for her. I had won! My plan had worked and all the sacrifice, no matter how taboo, no matter how forbidden, no matter how wrong, it had been worth it. And but for the suspicions of a few—Sandra, whom I could trust and Vanessa whom I could deal with—no one was the wiser.
Except maybe John. Perhaps he didn’t really know how far I had gone, despite finding the doll and the comforter spread out on the living room floor, or maybe he was wilfully blind. Once, I would have believed in his naivety but no more. Not after finding out about his visits to Vanessa who was so much like his mother, or experiencing his passion when I put on old fashioned makeup and dressed in his mother’s night clothes. No, I was sure John knew, and he had warned me.
Gary was going to lose his virginity soon, maybe as early as tomorrow. He was going to give it to the girl I had introduced him to, after all I had done for him. He was going to give it to her, and now I wanted it!
I looked at my watch. The mall was closing soon so I grabbed my purse and ran out the door. I would deal with Maria once and for all.
The route to the mall was a blur. Luckily I encountered no pedestrians or cyclists. I roared into the lot and parked in front of the doors, in a handicapped space. Slamming the car door, I rushed inside. The sliding storefront was already pulled almost closed. I walked toward them, past the few straggling shoppers remaining in the mall. A girl exited the lingerie store. It wasn’t Maria but she was wearing a name tag. I remembered seeing her before. She worked there too so maybe Maria wasn’t working today. I hurried to ask her if Maria was working tomorrow. I expected her to turn around to pull the door shut but she just walked away. I was in luck, someone was still inside. The manager, or Maria?
I slipped through the door. Maria entered from the backroom, saw me and smiled. I walked purposely toward her.
“Hello,” she greeted me cheerfully. “It’s so nice to see you. I was hoping to see you and your friend again. It’s been so long I thought you weren’t coming back.”
I was taken aback by her words. She hadn’t seen us? She meant me, she couldn’t mean Gary. He’d been coming here every morning for weeks now.
“I’ll just lock up. Why don’t you grab something and take it out back. I’ll be right with you.”
Maria walked past me toward the door. I half turned to watch her as she went by. She seemed genuinely pleased to see me, and surprised too.
“You didn’t bring your friend with you?”
“No,” I replied.
“That’s okay. Men don’t know anything about clothes, anyway.”
I walked into the back room and stood at the entrance to the fitting room. I dropped my purse on the seat and turned to wait for Maria. I hadn’t picked up anything to try on since I still thought we were about to have a confrontation. I was sure that Maria had made the suggestion to get me out of the front part of the store, but I was wrong. She appeared in the doorway holding a dainty, sexy red negligee.
“You forgot to get something so I picked one out that should look gorgeous on you.”
Maria walked toward me, the negligee dangling from her hand. I started to speak, to accuse her of seducing my son but for some reason held my tongue. Maria hung the negligee on the hook on the inside of the open fitting room door.
“Here, let me help you,” she said, starting to unbutton my blouse.
I can’t explain why I didn’t react. I stood there while this young woman whom I had only met twice removed my blouse, tugging the ends out of my skirt to do the bottom two buttons, and peeling it down my arms. She put the blouse on a hanger and hung it behind me on a separate hook on the fitting room wall. As she reached past me, I noted how pretty her perfume was and that she seemed to pause so I could take the time to smell it. Maria stepped back but remained close so she could reach around me to undo my bra. Our chests touched.
“Gary hasn’t been in… to buy me anything?” I asked.
“Gary? Oh, your friend? No, he hasn’t. I’m sure he meant to but they forget, don’t they?”
The bra was loose and Maria was pulling it around to the front, dragging it off my shoulders and down my arms. I straightened them and held them in front of myself to make it easier to take off but kept my arms together, hiding my breasts and especially my nipples which were stiffening despite my self-conscious pleas. Maria draped the bra over my purse on the seat.
“So he hasn’t been in?”
“I haven’t seen him,” Maria said. “Let’s get this skirt off, shall we?”
She loosened the skirt and knelt down as she pushed it over my hips and let it fall slowly down my legs, tracing a path down the outside of each one with her thumbs as she held the skirt. I stepped out of it and Maria stood, picked up a hanger with built-in pegs and hung the skirt neatly on the hook holding my blouse.
She turned back, looked me up and down, and asked, “Would you like to compare it to the one I’m wearing, like last time?”
Maria didn’t wait for an answer. She reached behind herself and unzipped her dress. I was falling from her shoulders by the time my brain registered what she was doing.
“I’m not… uh, I’m not…”
Maria wasn’t wearing a bra and her breasts, tanned and beautiful, sprang off her chest with youthful enthusiasm. Unlike my own which, though great for my age still sagged a little, they were firm and supple. Maria swayed toward me and grasped my hands in hers. If she thought I was going escape, she was wrong. My feet were as fixed to the floor as my eyes were fixated on her breasts.
“I like yours better,” she said.
“I’m not, I’m not, uh…” I stammered.
“Neither am I,” Maria whispered, her fingers loosening around my hands and sliding up my arms.
My eyes flickered to her face. Maria was staring at my breasts as her fingers tickled up my arms, her lips quivering in concert with my vibrating nipples. Her fingertips rounded my shoulders and traced a line along the ridge into the hollow of my neck, circled several times, then trailed down to the upper swelling of my breasts. She was so confident, so in control.
“Maria,” I whispered, my mouth dry and voice hoarse. “Really, I’m not a lesbian.”
“Neither am I,” she whispered, “but you’re so beautiful.”
The tip of Maria’s index fingers collided with my nipples and pushed, bending them over, and holding them like that.
“I love your nipples. They’re so…there!”
“Yours will be too, in time.”
“Yours weren’t always so…”
“No, but my breasts weren’t so soft, either. They used to be firm like yours. As you get older, they’ll soften up and lose some of their mass which will make your nipples stand out more.”
“Are they more sensitive?”
“I think so.” I sucked in my breath as Maria pushed her fingertips past, allowing my nipples to snap erect. “I can’t remember for sure.”
“I wish mine were like yours.”
I gasped as Maria pinched my nipples between thumbs and forefingers, holding them gently.
“And I yours,” I whispered, reaching up to cup her firmer breasts.
We stood there, caressing each other’s breasts, eyes alternating between tits and face, breaths shortening and coming more quickly.
“If we’re not, you know, then why are we doing this?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Maria asked. “Who cares? No one’s watching.”
A streak of fear suddenly ran through me.
“Your manager, he’s not…”
“No.” Maria corrected me, “She’s at her other store.”
I relaxed and my pelvis contacted Maria’s. She pushed back, melding our panties.
“Mmmmm, this is nice,” Maria said. “Why can’t men be like this?”
“I don’t know,” I replied, gently twisting to the left and back, pressing my panties more firmly into Maria’s.
We rocked together like that for a couple of minutes, neither letting go of the other’s nipples, in limbo except that our pussies pressed together more firmly and actually rubbed against each other.
“Can I kiss you?” Maria asked, leaning toward me, already knowing the answer.
Her mouth was on mine. Her tongue didn’t follow. It was longer than I expected and surprisingly nice. I liked it.
Maria pulled back but only half an inch. Her lips brushed over mine teasingly, then slipped around to my cheek and up to my ear lobe, nibbled it, then dropped onto my neck where the tip of her tongue appeared, trailing slickly out to the edge of my shoulder. She returned to nibble my face around the edge of my lips.
“Does your husband know about your young man?”
“He knows who he is,” I responded truthfully.
“That’s not what I asked.”
“That’s quite a coup, bagging someone so young, but looking at you, feeling you, I can understand why he’s attracted to you.”
“Am I more interesting because I have a young man?”
I nibbled on Maria’s face as she paused to consider my question.
“I don’t know. Yes, I think it does.”
Maria resumed her caresses. We were now trading kisses and nibbles, each still working the other’s nipples.
“You’re not much older than Gary,” I whispered, rubbing my panties across hers.
“I’m not attracted to younger men,” she laughed.
“But you are to older women?”
“Not until now.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” I said, immediately regretting my loose tongue.
“You avoided my question. Does your husband know about Gary?”
“I’m not sure. I think maybe he does,” I answered truthfully.
“Is that the half of it?”
Maria released my nipples and let her hands circle around my waist, down my back, and onto my ass. I followed suit.
I replied thickly. Maria had slipped her hand around and pushed it between us, cupping my pussy. I did the same and was pleased when she gasped in response. We each rubbed the front of the other’s panties, found each other’s grooves, and explored gently.
Maria sighed. “You’re so wicked. Did you let him find out on purpose?”
“No. I really don’t know if he knows for sure but I suspect he does.”
“Tell me more you wicked bitch.”
“Ungghhh,” I moaned. Maria had raised her hand up above my panties, slipped her fingers inside, and pushed them down, skidding in perfect alignment through my slick groove.
“Tell me,” she rasped, curling the tip of her finger inward, probing my entrance, and pushing inside.
It had to be her long finger because it reached deep. I was about to speak, to reveal my secret, when Maria’s tongue filled my mouth. It was an exquisite kiss, my very first with a woman. By the time it ended, my back was to the wall but Maria’s body had followed mine, and my finger was inside her. Hers had become thicker and I realized that sometime during the kiss, Maria had slipped another finger inside me.
“Show me how wicked you are,” she urged.
Her fingers pushed and twisted as Maria lowered her mouth to my breast and sucked my nipple deep into her mouth.
“Oh God,” I cried.
“Tell me,” Maria hissed. “I know there’s something more. Tell me.” Her mouth latched onto my tit again and sucked hard while her fingers pushed in so deep my pelvis lifted and my hips bucked toward her.
“He’s my son,” I cried. “Gary is my son!”
Maria lifted her head, and stared at me, mouth open.
“He’s my son,” I whimpered, shame overwhelming me despite the conviction that what I was doing was right. An obscure part of my brain noted how deep must run the courage of the righteous.
Maria’s head shook slowly from side to side, unbelieving.
“I had to,” I wailed. “He needed me.”
“You had sex with him?” Maria was incredulous.
Her mouth was on me, her fingers slipped out and her hand curled around my waist, pulling me tight. The kiss was urgent, yearning, until Maria abruptly pulled away.
“But you’re going to, right? You will let him, won’t you?”
Her eyes were feverish, demanding. I nodded hesitantly. “Maybe.”
“You must! And you’ll tell me when you do, right?”
“Yes.” I don’t know why I committed to do that. At the moment, it was important for Maria to know that I would.
Maria tugged my panties over my hips and pushed them onto my thighs. I thought she would kneel then to pull them further like she had with my skirt but instead she pushed her own panties down. Quickly, she pressed into me, our bare pussies mashing together.
“Please do let him fuck you. That would be so cool, so fucking awesome.”
Maria pulled on my waist, yanking me hard onto her pussy, as if she was fucking me.
“God, you’re so hot. If I had a son, I’d fuck him too.”
“Shut up,” I cried, encircling her waist and pulling her pussy onto mine.
Maria moved her hands around and grabbed my nipples again. Her mouth found mine and we kissed, tongues moving back and forth, slipping around each other, entwining, while our hips bucked together. Our bodies writhed, moving frantically, two women, neither a lesbian, making love, or at least fucking each other.
When it was over and we were sitting on the floor where we had collapsed, limbs entwined, hugging and nuzzling one another, Maria spoke first.
“You’re an amazing woman.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. You have the courage to love your son, because he needs you. How many women could do that?”
Laughing, I said, “I don’t think many would consider it courageous.”
“But it is,” Maria insisted.
“I came here today because I was jealous, because Gary wants you.”
The moment I said it I realized that it wasn’t true. Gary had only used the prospect of sex with Maria to make me jealous. He wanted me, just as I wanted him.
“I would love to be with him, if it was alright with you.”
I didn’t answer.
“But it doesn’t matter. I’d like to be with you again. I have a small apartment.”
I put my fingers on Maria’s lips.
“We’ll see,” I said.
“I’ll give you the address just in case. You don’t have to phone. Just come, anytime, day or night.”
I laughed. “Do my wicked ways turn you on?”
“You don’t know the half of it.” Maria laughed.
- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -
I avoided Gary until the next afternoon. I went for a long walk in the morning, making sure I wasn’t there when he returned from his supposed visit with Maria but I didn’t call him on it. I wasn’t sure if I should go through with it despite my desire and Maria’s urging. To take him inside me was a huge step, one neither of us could ever forget. Could I be sure that Gary really wanted to, that he wouldn’t regret it years later?
Gary was home, waiting for me when I got back from my walk. He was sitting in the kitchen, on a stool, the bulge in his shorts showing how much he missed me. I turned up the stairs instead of going into the kitchen. The stool scraped on the kitchen floor as Gary got up to follow me. I loosened my skirt and let it drop on the stairs, then started unbuttoning my blouse. Gary caught up in time to stand in the doorway as I tossed my blouse on the floor, quickly shrugged out of my bra, and slipped my panties over my ass. I crawled onto the bed and slipped my left hand through the loop of the left rope that Gary had already hung on the posts while awaiting my arrival. Turning my back to the headboard, I reached out and sipped my right hand through its loop, then settled in against the stacked pillows and waited for Gary’s cock.
“Hurry,” I said, spreading my legs, something I had never done before.
Gary pushed his shoulder off the door jamb and nonchalantly walked toward me as if he didn’t have a care in the world. What a change I had wrought in him. I wondered if it was all good.
Gary shucked his shirt and pushed his shorts to the ground. Naked, he stood, tall and straight, his cock hanging in front of him, already hard and ready. I flexed my toes.
“Hurry, I need you.”
“You need me?” he drawled, strutting around to the side of the bed.
I smiled. “Ah, payback time for all the teasing you endured?” I asked.
“I owe you,” Gary replied.
“Didn’t you enjoy it?”
“Absolutely. That doesn’t mean I don’t owe you.”
“That’s true,” I admitted. “So make me pay.”
“I will,” he husked, his voice inadvertently revealing how much he wanted me.
I pulled my knees up and pressed my legs together, tilting them away from his so the underside of my thighs and ass would show.
“Make me,” I husked.
Gary got up on the bed and stood with his feet on either side of my thighs
“Make you what?” he demanded.
“Do things,” I replied. “Before my husband gets home.”
“I heard you last night. You were doing filthy things, weren’t you?”
I didn’t answer.
“Weren’t you,” Gary demanded, slapping my knees aside. I let them drop, slightly open so he could see how swollen and ready my bare pussy was.
Gary grabbed my head and roughly turned my face up toward him. This was unlike him. He had never been rough with me before.
“I don’t want you doing things for him.”
“I have to. He’s my husband.”
“Just go through the motions like you’re always done.”
The truth hurt. The sex life in my marriage had always been about going through the motions.
“Make me,” I taunted my son.
I wanted him to fuck me, to take me, like Maria suggested, but he had to do it; I couldn’t bring myself to offer it. He had to take me. I opened my legs wide and flexed my legs, shamelessly presenting my throbbing pussy.
“Make me,” I repeated.
I wanted him to know things were different now, that I was available, that he could have me, but I couldn’t just tell him. Gary bent his knees and rubbed his cock over my face but instead of trying to capture it as usual, I turned my head away. I didn’t want the same old, same old from him. Couldn’t he see I had changed my mind, that I wanted him to fuck me?
“Make me,” I hissed, thrashing my open legs.
Misinterpreting me, Gary grabbed my head and forced my mouth open before shoving his cock into my mouth. I suffered half a dozen gurgling thrusts before he pulled out and released my head but I stayed on course.
“Make me,” I said.
I pulled my knees up, tucked my feet between his legs and under his chest to hold them against the headboard above my head. My pussy was lewdly displayed, wet and swollen, as ready for it as it ever had been.
“Make me,” I said.
Gary knelt above my pelvis, moved closer until his cock brushed over the back of my thighs. One part of my mind screamed for me to stop him while the other readied myself for his first, forbidden penetration. But he didn’t enter me. Instead, he grazed his cock over my pussy, from one thigh to the other, then slipped up and pushed it deep between my legs until its tip touched my tits. He dragged it upward then, onto my face, across my chin and lips, over my nose, slid down to press against each closed eyelid.
“You want it, you know you do.”
I shook my head. “Make me.”
At least he had the right idea. Gary lowered himself until his cock landed on my pussy. He tapped my swollen lips and rubbed his cock sideways across them, then slid it lengthways along the full span of his long shaft.
“Take it,” he whispered.
“I can’t,” I cried, lowering my legs.
Gary grabbed my feet and pressed them back against the headboard. Straddling my thighs, he dipped his cock and rubbed it along my groove.
“You can do it.”
“No. You have to take it.”
Gary dropped onto the bed, his hands sliding from my ankles to the back of my knees. He dipped his head and his mouth covered my pussy. I moaned, then wailed when his tongue slipped into my crevice and gouged through the sloppy trough. I was so wet, so fucking wet.
“Gary, I can’t, I just can’t.”
“Yes, you can.”
He stood and rubbed his cock through my slushy slit, then held the head above my opening, pressing down but not enough to dip inside.
“Take it,” he croaked.
“No! Make me,” I cried, jerking my pussy away.
Gary let my legs fall, hooked his arms under my knees, and stepped back, pulling me to the center of the bed. My arms stretched out and almost fell through the loops but my fingers closed over the rope to keep me captive. Gary tugged and I gripped the rope tighter. He pulled harder but couldn’t break my grip so he leaned over me and grabbed my left hand, then deliberately pried my fingers open and tossed the rope off to the side, out of my reach. He did the same with my right hand. I was free, physically.
Still holding me with his elbows crooked behind my knees, Gary lifted me up from the bed by my legs but my head and shoulders dangled onto the mattress. His cock slid between my thighs, rubbing over my pussy.
“Free yourself, Mom. Take it.”
“I can’t,” I cried. “You have to make me.”
“No. You know what you want, Admit it to yourself and take it.”
Gary didn’t speak again but he didn’t release me. He kept rubbing his cock back and forth over my pussy. It was a contest between my ability to abstain and his endurance. I knew he couldn’t hold me up forever, that he would tire, but his desire would build. I knew I wasn’t the only one tortured by the rubbing of his cock over my pussy. He would tire, succumb, and then take me. I met his teasing strokes with slick, nibbling rubs of my own.
Despite the struggle, neither of us allowed cock and pussy to part. We rubbed and teased each other mercilessly. Eventually, I realized that neither of us was capable of pulling apart but slowly, I sensed that Gary was gaining the upper hand. I was shocked. How could a young man in his prime outlast me, an older, mature, experienced woman?
Time. That was the answer. Once he got over the initial hump, all Gary had to do was stoke the embers, patiently awaiting the slow-growing desire built into every woman. The longer this continued, the weaker I became. I tried to pull away but he wouldn’t let me, rubbing his cock incessantly over my now super-sensitive pussy lips.
“Please Gary, don’t” I cried.
He didn’t reply but renewed his rubbing with greater vigor. I pulled away but he lifted me until my shoulders no longer touched the bed. My legs locked around his hips and Gary sawed his cock over my pussy, for all intent and purposes, fucking me, except he wasn’t inside. Gary’s elbows clutched my hips and waist and his hands reached under my shoulders, urging me closer. My legs tightened around his waist.
I was losing. The tip of his cock was nudging my entrance. I clutched his waist, trying to lift myself closer, to force his tip higher, onto my mound so I wouldn’t accidentally pull it in me , but he pulled away, keeping it on my slit which was so wide now, so wet, more a gully than a groove. I moaned.
He sawed through my slickness, then stopped, his head notched in my slit. Oh God, it felt so good, so fucking, fucking good. I let it sink in, just a little. So fucking good, so filling, even just this innocent dip.
He pulled back! No, don’t. I tightened my legs, lifting myself, following it, following his cock. There, yes, just that little dip, so slick and warm, pressing my lips open. I could do this, just this.
Gary pulled away again. I hooked my ankles firmly together and lunged upward, capturing him, felt his tip nudge into my slit, then start to slip away… no, no, I yanked myself upward, felt it shove in, thicken, so wide, stretching, then suddenly become narrower. He had popped inside me.
No, that wasn’t true. I had pulled him inside.
“Yeah, Mom. Take it all the way.”
“Oh God, Gary. I’m sorry, so sorry.”
“Take it,” he hissed.
I constricted my calf muscles again and felt his blunt cock force my walls open a few more inches as he filled me.
“Ohhhhh Gawwwddd,” I cried, straining my hips upward, pulling his thing into me, deep, really deep. I lunged and captured him fully, mashing my soaking lips onto his pubic hair.
“Fuck me,” I cried, cashing in, admitting defeat, glorious defeat.
Gary dropped my hands and I flopped back, slipping down his cock until his hands grasped my hips. Then he was pulling me up, back onto his cock, plugging me, filling me up to my tonsils.
“Yeah, oh yeah!” he cried.
“Yeah,” I yelled back.
Gary fell to his knees and pushed my legs way back, holding me by the ankles, lifting my ass completely off the bed to fully expose me. Then my son crouched over the back of my thighs and started hammering his cock inside me, noisily slapping the back of my thighs. My God, he was so hard.
“Fuck me!” I moaned, before losing all capability of speech. After that, all I could do was grunt my joy and appreciation.
Gary went wild. It looked like he was trying to say something but the sounds coming out of his mouth were unintelligible. I knew then that he had planned this for some time. It must have been a huge struggle to wait until I was ready rather than following his youthful urge to take me but the end justified the means. Gary was right, I was free. I had taken my son because I wanted him, not for a good cause, not because I was martyring myself, but because he made me so hot and I wanted to fuck his brains out. I was now free to fuck him anytime I wanted, or anytime he wanted me, without guilt or shame.
- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -
Gary and I fucked every afternoon after that. I discovered that I liked the security blanket that the ropes provided and Gary obliged me. He tightened them at my request so I couldn’t slip my hands out. I liked the feeling of being trapped, held against my will and forced to do things—though I really wasn’t. I don’t know why I liked it so much but didn’t waste much time wondering about it. It felt good and that was all I needed to know.
The day everything changed, I was facing the headboard, blindfolded and muzzled by the mask I had devised of stretchy material with a grip on the back so Gary could hold my face up from the bed without hurting my hair. My arms were stretched behind me and my wrists securely tied. The soft rope looping around my neck was yoked to my knees, tucking them up tightly to my chest and forcing my ass up high. Two more lengths of soft rope started at the rope around my wrists and branched off to hold my ankles up. I felt helpless yet strangely, and blissfully, in control because my feigned plight seduced Gary into forcing huge lunges upon me from behind. We had done this before, working up from gentler scenarios, and we both loved it. It was a prelude to something else I had discovered, or more accurately, Gary had shown me that I liked: anal sex.
About a week or so after we had first fucked, and Gary had started tying me up more securely, he began playing with my asshole. First, he worked me up until I was so horny I would die just to get his cock inside me for even a minute, then he put his lubed finger into my little pucker. Oh, I didn’t like it and let my feelings be known but Gary persisted. Soon, I grew used to his finger’s presence, and then his thumb, and after a lot more teasing of my quivering pussy lips, a second finger.
Gary rubbed his shaft along my pussy and nudged it in a bit several times but he wouldn’t shove it all the way in. When he finally forced it into my ass, I welcomed it. It took some getting used to, let me tell you, but by the time his cock was fully inside my ass, I was grooving on it.
The next day, Gary pounded me from behind for several minutes before suddenly pulling out. I wiggled my ass in the air until the first teasing probe both relieved my angst and stoked my fires to new heights. Fifteen minutes of teasing circles around my pucker and sudden plunges inside ensued. When I thought I couldn’t stand it any longer, Gary blessed my ass with his stiff cock. I was so hot it must have felt like a furnace.
So, getting back to that fateful day a week later, as I was saying, Gary had just pounded me from behind, me all tied up, and had barely started stroking my butt, when everything changed.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
I heard Gary cry out as he was yanked roughly off me and turned my head just in time to hear the sound of a fist crack followed by a body crashing into the wall behind me so hard the bedside lamp fell off the table. Several more fist cracks followed.
“You little bastard!”
“No, John, don’t,” I yelled but the mask muffled my cry.
Bang, bang, crash.
“John… John, oh my God, Gary,” I whimpered, rubbing my face in the pillow, first trying to rub the mask up over my chin so John could hear me and, after that failed, trying to dislodge it from the top so I could at least plead for Gary with my eyes. But I couldn’t get the mask off and despite rolling off the bed and crashing into John’s feet, the beating continued.
When John finally untied me and removed the mask, Gary was lying in a fetal position beside the bed.
Our world had ended.
- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -
Gary’s stay at the hospital was short—his injuries were slight and mostly surperficial—but his return home was equally brief. He hid in his room and wouldn’t come out, not even to eat. It was worse that when I’d started. Eventually, he returned to the institution.
Getting the charges initially laid against John was another ordeal—we obviously couldn’t explain what had happened—but eventually we got past that too. All that remained was for us to deal with the remorse and sense of failure. Depression awaited. John and I stopped having sex. He was too guilty and I couldn’t bring myself to be with him. Neither of us was capable of dealing with Gary’s situation though I did broach the topic with John one evening without success. He flat out didn’t want to talk about it so that’s what we did, lived our lives as if we didn’t have a son.
I didn’t go out much anymore but one day I was sitting in the food court of a mall—not the one I usually patronized because I couldn’t face meeting anyone I knew—when I encountered Sandra’s son, Jeff. He was such a sweet boy and the brief conversation I had with him turned my life around.
Hope is an amazing thing. Hope leads to plans, and plans lead to action, and actions can succeed as well as fail. Jeff didn’t stick around to see it but when I left that mall, I was a different woman from the one that walked in. There was a firmness to my step, borne of purpose and determination. I had done the impossible once, I could do it again.
The plan formed in my mind on the drive home. I went straight upstairs and then up into the attic. There, I opened all the boxes and trunks, made my selections, and spent the rest of the day doing laundry and taking things to the dry cleaners. Several days later, I had the wardrobe necessary to execute the first part of my new plan, convincing my reluctant husband to become a willing if not fully functional member of the team. Then, we could tackle Gary again.
- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -
I was in the kitchen in when John came in. As usual now, he didn’t come in to see me or call out to say hello, he simply sat down and turned the TV onto the evening news. I smiled. Things were going to be different now and, though I was nervous about this first encounter, I was also confident of success. After all, Vanessa did have my mother-in-law’s personality but I looked like her, especially now that I was at the age she likely had her greatest influence on John. I had examined John’s family pictures and confirmed this to be true. I also knew a lot about my mother-in-law and the strange relationship she had with her son, one I suspected was far more complicated than I previously thought.
I stirred the pot, relishing the delicious feeling of female power that welled up inside me and readied myself for the challenge ahead of me. I wasn’t afraid, I was looking forward to it. My earlier triumph with Gary had taught me to enjoy the battle while it lasted. I now understood why men repressed their wartime experiences yet thrived on their memory, the most intense moments of their lives. I felt alive!
I turned the pots on simmer and poured John a glass of wine, refilling my own as well. Holding both glasses, I walked seductively toward the living room, loving the snug feel of the long, grey tweed skirt around my hips and legs and how tight it felt across my buttocks. Its high waist and the wide black belt accented the narrowness of my waist and tugged the fluffy white blouse down tightly over my breasts, nicely pushed up with the special bra I had also found among John’s mother’s things. She had a surprising amount of special underwear for such an austere woman.
I rounded the corner and walked directly to John’s chair.
“Here you are, dear,” I said, handing him a glass of wine. “Did you have a hard day?”
Instead of waiting for an answer, I turned to look at the TV, standing in front of John’s chair but to one side so I wouldn’t block his view if he decided to keep watching the news. However, by the way his eyes flickered toward my bottom as I turned, I was confident I would win over the TV. I held my pose for a moment, then let my left knee bend forward, forcing my right buttock up to press tightly against the skirt, accenting my bottom. The rustle of my nylons scraping thigh on thigh sent a shiver up my spine and I hoped it had the same effect on my husband.
“That’s a nice outfit, Joan. Were you shopping today?”
“No.” I didn’t turn to look at John. “I’m so bored of shopping. I can never find exactly what I want. Your mother always dressed so nicely&mash;I almost choked on those words—so I went up to the attic to look at her stuff for ideas and found this outfit. I hope you don’t mind, it fits me well, don’t you think?”
I twisted my hips to emphasize the fit over my butt which I knew had a tendency to stick out a bit.
“No, I don’t mind. I don’t mind at all.”
“But, does it fit me nicely?”
“Yes, it fits you perfectly.”
Holding my wine glass out to the side, ostensibly so it wouldn’t spill but really to accentuate my figure,
I sauntered back to the kitchen.
Later, when we had finished dinner and just started eating the sumptuous apple pie I had bought at Andres but claimed to have made, I set the stage for the next few weeks.
“John, do you mind if I wear some of your mother’s other things? I just love this outfit.”
“Mind? Of course I don’t mind.”
That night, John waited for me in bed while I undid my fifties-style hairdo and appeared to remove my makeup but in reality simply adjusted it to fit a more intimate setting. I was wearing one of his mother’s more demure nightgowns, far less racy than some of the stuff I had found. John was perky when I finally slipped under the covers, as he should have been after the long meal I had made of removing his mother’s clothes in front of him, but I was cool. I wasn’t, however, as off-putting as I had been the past few months. I wanted to encourage him, but not much, yet.
- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -
For the next two weeks, I wore John’s mother’s clothes. During the day, I repaired some outfits and took others that were beyond my ability to a seamstress. From her, I got ideas for clothes of a similar design and commissioned several new outfits, for a play I was involved in, I explained. I really liked the feel of these old style clothes. They covered so much yet I felt sexier in them.
I gradually moved John closer and closer to more intimate interactions but did not renew any sexual activity in bed. I could tell John was getting frustrated which was perfect, just according to my plan. When I asked John to move into the spare room because I needed time to myself, he balked, but wasn’t overly upset. After all, his most intimate interactions with me occurred outside the bedroom.
Using pictures to guide me, I had re-decorated the spare room to be as close as could be managed to John’s bedroom at home when he was young. Those pictures had shown how fond John was of his mother. There were pictures of his mother on the wall and on the table beside his bed which was strange, I thought, for a teenage boy. I put similar pictures up but they were of me, dressed in his mother’s clothes, which I had a photographer come to the house to do. I also had other pictures taken of me wearing some of her racier underwear. It excited me to wear them and it showed in the pictures, something the photographer picked up on because he propositioned me. As I said before, hope is a funny thing. I’m sure it’s why he offered me such a good price on the pictures, even though I turned him down.
It was after a long dinner at which I wore an elegant gown that I moved John into the next stage. He followed me into the living room, no doubt staring at my ass moving freely under the fabulous dress as I purposely swayed slowly ahead of him, but I stopped him short.
“John, would you be a dear and let me enjoy my wine in peace? I’d like to watch a romantic movie and that’s one of those things a woman likes to do alone.”
Before he could answer, I moved into the living room and sat in his chair, leaning back and crossing my legs, forcing the split, black gown to expose my legs far up my thigh.
“You don’t mind, do you, sweetie?”
I could see that he did but he shook his head and turned to go upstairs, hanging his head and shuffling like a spoiled little kid who, having been caught being naughty, had just been sent to his room.
‘Sweetie’, that’s what John’s mother called him. That, and ‘Johnny’. I had painted a juvenile sign on the door of his new room, ‘Johnny’s Cave’, something else I had discovered in an old picture in one of the trunks.
I turned on the TV, put any old movie on, and sipped my wine, biding my time for the next movement. After forty minutes or so, I drained my second glass and started up the stairs.
Let the show begin.
I took a deep breath, knocked on Johnny’s door, then quickly opened it before he even had a chance to answer.
“Johnny, how many times have I told you not to do that!”
John was shocked not only by my abrupt entry but also by my use of a name he probably hadn’t heard for many years. The trauma was so complete it immobilized him and he was caught sitting up in bed with the covers pushed down almost to his knees and his shorts dragged down below his balls so he could hold his cock, which was fully erect in his hand, with one hand while the other held a picture of his mother in the other—actually me in her racy underclothes. I had placed those photos in the top drawer where his socks were knowing he would find them.
I walked quickly to the bed and snatched the picture from John’s hand.
“John Edward Robinson, I know you won’t go blind but you shouldn’t be doing that.”
I stared at the picture, then tossed it onto the bed, upright and facing John so he could still see it.
“Not by yourself, anyway. It’s a bad habit to get into,” I said, my voice softening. I sat down on the bed, hitching the elegant dress high enough that it opened sufficiently to display a healthy expanse of bare thigh. “I’ve told you before.”
I grasped John’s wrist and tugged his hand off his cock. It was amazing that it remained hard, sticking up proudly though I knew John must be cringing inside. Cringing, and wondering what the hell I was up to. I had surmised that such a surprise may well have happened to John when he was young. I hoped I was right because so much depended on how he reacted and the closer this was to an actual memory the better. I replaced John’s hand with my own.
“Johnny, Johnny, what am I to do with you?” I said, squeezing my hand up and down his shaft. I looked behind me at the open door. “It’s a good thing your father went to bed so long ago. He’s probably sleeping.”
I hoped that rang true because if it did the delicious sense of danger might seduce my husband into going along with this fantasy and maybe even convince him to immerse himself within it. After a few strokes, John relaxed. He was over the initial shock and was probably beginning to feel good, even better than before I crashed through the door. His eyes, however, were still wide open.
“There, there. That’s better, isn’t it,” I cooed. “That’s it, just relax.” I scooted back and pulled John lower in the bed by his cock, pressing on his chest with my free hand. “Close your eyes and just relax.”
John closed his eyes just as my free hand slid down his chest to close around his balls. They fluttered open but closed again as I tickled his nuts and stroked his cock with long, firm strokes.
“Shhhhhh. Just relax.”
It was only a minute later that John starting humping his hips off the bed, thrusting through my tight grip. He started moaning and I could only wonder what movie was playing in his mind. Was it me jacking his cock or his mother? Did he picture himself bending her over the edge of the bed, or me? I hoped it was her.
His body jerked on the bed and he gasped for breath to fuel the exertion. He came, erupting in a steady flow that oozed from his cock for half a minute.
“You disgusting little brat,” I chastized him in my best imitation of his mother’s commanding, superior voice. “How many times have I told you to warn me? I wiped my hand on his blanket and stood up, smoothing the dress down over my thighs. “Clean yourself up and wash your own blankets. I’m not cleaning up your filth, do you understand?”
John opened his eyes and nodded. He looked petrified.
I turned and stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind me.
So far, so good.
- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -
I didn’t knock the next night but John was waiting for me. He might not have been sure of himself as he looked because the covers were pulled up to his waist, hiding his private parts which the lump in his lap indicated he had been touching. I was wearing a robe, open to display the suggestive nightgown underneath. Though it wasn’t low cut, there was a peek hole beneath the ribbon tying it under my neck that provided a window onto my cleavage, and my breasts were loose underneath. The nightgown was long but not full length, falling to only a few inches below my knees but when I sat down the hem would rise above them. I had practised to be sure it did.
I partially closed the door and walked to the bed, ‘accidently’ brushing my robe away from my breasts as I hitched the nightgown up my legs before sitting down. I spoke in a hushed voice.
“Your father’s barely asleep but I couldn’t wait any longer.” I turned around and looked at the door to heighten the illusory suspense.
John was smiling with anticipation when I turned back to look at him, his eyes on the bodice of the demure nightgown. I held my elbows in close to my sides and arched my back slightly to buff up the target of his gaze. I chatted with him about things I knew he had done with his parents as if it had just happened rather than so many years ago. John seemed to more than accept it, he seemed very pleased and eager to hear more, leading me in directions I hadn’t thought of and supplying the necessary details to make it more real. Things were going so well I almost forgot what I was here to do.
As nonchalantly as I could, I leaned toward the bedside table and opened its narrow drawer. John watched me but didn’t stop talking. I retrieved what I had placed there earlier in the day. As John continued his remonition, I casually squirted the thick lubricant in my palm and began working it into my hands, my fingers writhing around one another. John was mesmerized but continued talking. Finally, I stopped and drew my hands apart and held my arms in front of him, palms turned upward.
“Well,” I said. “Shall we get started?”
John nodded but didn’t do anything, obviously not knowing what was expected of him.
I looked down at his lap and nodded. His gaze followed mine, then he looked up at me for a confirming nod, and pushed the covers down, revealing a bare erection unhindered by either pajamas or underwear.
“Johnny, I’ve told you, it’s disgusting to be naked in bed. You’ll have to change your sheets tomorrow and you can wash them yourself.”
His response thrilled me. The fact that he didn’t just say ‘sorry’ told me he was really buying into this fantasy and it rolled so easily off his lips that my confidence in my portrayal of his mother surged.
“It’s all right. Come on, push them down all the way. Let’s get this over with.”
John pushed the covers down to mid-thigh, allowing his stimulated rod to spring up in eager expectation.
“Johnny, you haven’t been touching it yourself, have you?” I said in an admonishing tone.
“No Mother, I haven’t, honest,” he lied.
“Well, then,” I muttered, and closed my slick fingers around his shaft.
“Ohhhh Goddd,” John cried.
“Quiet, or you’ll wake your father,” I snapped.
“Alright, just let me know if the light comes on in the hallway.”
John looked past me to the dark hallway beyond his door. I had been careful to turn all the lights off. For the first time, the sound of distant snoring wafted into the room. Perfect, I thought, proud of my timing. You can find anything on the web, including soundtracks of snoring.
John’s chest heaved in reaction to the exquisite sensations my lubricated fingers were imparting to his now slick cock. As my hand rose up to his tip I squeezed it over the head and slowly twisted. On the descent, I paused halfway down to allow my trailing thumb to brush sideways across the underside as my other hand massaged his balls. Despite my instructions to watch for the light, John closed his eyes. His whole body trembled under my ministrations. The only sound in the house was the faint recording of snoring emanating from my bedroom and the wet, gooey sound of my hand squeezing and stroking his cock.
John opened his eyes and raised his head.
“Mother, I’m going to… you said I should warn you.”
“Oh dear. I forgot to bring a towel. Do you have a towel?” My hand didn’t stop moving up and down his slick shaft.
John looked around, then reached across to the other side of the bed and retrieved his shirt.
“You’re not going to ruin your shirt, for goodness sakes. This will have to do.”
I leaned over John’s cock and opened my mouth.
Though I couldn’t see John’s face, I could sense his shock. I continued pulling on his slick cock, keeping it steadily aimed at my open, hovering mouth. To help him along, I breathed over his tip and jacked him faster, only going halfway down his shaft before returning to squeeze his head. John’s hips began humping up and down, bringing the tip of his cock dangerously close to my mouth.
The first squirt surprised me even though I was expecting it. John cried out and bucked his hips, thrusting his cock fully inside my wet, waiting mouth. He released a sound that was more of a wail than a grunt, dropping his ass to the bed for the briefest sojourn before ramming it back into my mouth. His body convulsed with each explosive squirt, again and again and again. Finally, he was spent and collapsed into the mattress, exhausted. I lifted my head, expecting him to have closed his eyes again but he was watching me with glazed eyes. I suspect he wanted to see if I had managed to take it all, hoping to see some of his seed marking my face. I was sorry to disappoint him. I made a note to think of that next time. Or maybe he was trying to see if his mother had returned to this earth.
- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -
The next day I wore John’s mother’s sexiest outfits and that night John was eagerly awaiting my arrival. As soon as I entered his room, he put his book down and pushed the covers down to his knees, exposing his erect cock.
“You weren’t touching it by yourself, were you Johnny?”
The snoring recording started up, right on time. I reached over to open the drawer but saw the lubricant already lying on top of the bedside dresser. I smiled.
“I see we have an eager beaver tonight.”
John nodded. His eyes lit up when I peeled my robe back and let it fall from my shoulders, revealing a very naughty nightgown that barely contained my breasts. I let him take his fill for a moment, then reached for the lubricant but before squirting it onto my palm, I paused.
“Would you like to do this tonight?”
John looked confused. Was I asking him to masturbate?
“Change places with me,” I said, getting up. “Come on, get out of bed.”
John did as he was told and I took his place, propping another pillow behind my back.
“Come on, get on,” I said, patting my hands to the outside of my thighs.
John clambered over me. When he was in place, I said, “Well?”
John didn’t know what to do but before he could speak, I leaned upward and said, “Push my nightgown back, Johnny. There’s a good boy.”
John tentatively put his hands on my shoulders but didn’t do anything until I nodded permission. He slipped the nightgown down my arms and, when I smiled further approval, he dragged it completely off my breasts and pulled it over my hands. I picked up the lubricant and squirted a dollar-sized puddle onto each breast, just above my nipples, then handed it to him.
“Put some on yourself.”
I closed my eyes but kept them open a slit so I could see him. John was unsure for a few seconds and then squirted some lubricant onto the tip of his cock, put some more into his right palm, then rubbed it up and down his shaft. After it was spread all over his cock, he stared at my breasts, then tentatively reached out to touch the puddle above my left nipple. I nodded silent approval and visibly relaxed into the pillows to demonstrate my assent. John began spreading the lubricant over my tits.
John played with my breasts for so long I had to grab his cock and pull it between them before he got the idea but half a dozen strokes later, he leaned over me and began rubbing his cock between my tits in long, slow thrusts. I squeezed my breasts together and John began fucking them in earnest. I waited until his breathing was quite ragged before tipping my head up to blow on his cock. He loved it and leaned harder into to me, trying to thrust his cock closer to my mouth. After teasing him for a while by pulling my mouth away, I tipped my head forward to reward him, taking the head into my mouth on every stroke.
I doubt he managed another ten thrusts before he started coming. The way he gasped for air, I don’t think he would have survived if he hadn’t come. Some of his spend was deposited in my mouth but most of it missed, some of it going past my head entirely. However, enough landed on my face to make him groan with pleasure and he leaned over my nose to squeeze the last drops from his cock. I kept my eyes ‘closed’ the entire time so he wouldn’t be scared to do what he really wanted. After a moment, I spoke.
“Go to the bathroom and get a warm washcloth.”
John started climbing off me.
“Warm, mind you.”
He was walking to the door.
“And don’t wake your father.”
“No Mother,” he whispered.
John crept back into room. I don’t think he was trying to not wake his ‘father’, I think he wanted to look at me for a few moments before I knew he was there. I pretended to be unaware of his presence so he could survey the damage he had done. Never in my married life had I ever let John do something like this and I was positive that if he thought it was ‘me’ he wouldn’t have done it.
“Johnny?” I called, getting tired of the sticky mess on my face.
I heard him step quietly backward. “Right here, Mother,” he answered, as if just coming in the door.
- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -
The next day, at breakfast, I launched my campaign in earnest.
“Johnny,” I began. I had been wearing John’s mother’s clothes and calling him Johnny for weeks now and almost thought of him as my son. Given the intensity of our role playing, I’m sure he thought of me as his mother and definitely acted like it as soon as he walked in the door after work. I wondered how he managed to be himself during the day and worried that I might be contributing to the development of a fractured personality but it was necessary.
“John,” I started again. “We’re going to have a guest for a while.”
“Who?” John asked.
I worried that would yank John out of his role as my son but I had decided the best approach was to deal with the issue head on. John wasn’t so far gone that he didn’t know we were only playing a game so he could realize his fantasies. I relied on the strength of his mind and the weakness of his soul to handle this new twist.
“But we’re going to call him Allen and pretend he’s not our son.”
“Okay,” John’s tone was tentative and he looked unsure.
“You’ll have to sleep with me for a while.”
John looked less worried but still somewhat unsure.
“We can continue with…, well, with what we’ve been doing, but only in my room. Is that clear?”
“You understand? This is very important.”
“That’s good.” I held out my arms. “Now come and give your Mother a hug.”
I turned in my seat to face my husband as he came around the table. He let his hands rest on my shoulders as mine curled around his waist to embrace him. Releasing him a moment later, I slipped my hands around to his front and unzipped his pants. He was already getting hard. I opened my mouth and he pushed it in. Johnny’s hands clasped my head and he began thrusting in and out.
I wondered if I was up to this. Could I balance the demands of my two men? Could I handle that much sex? John’s legs weakened and he sagged against me, moaning his pleasure. Yes, I thought, I can, I definitely can.
Later that day, after my fateful phone call to the institution, I wondered about my husband’s relationship with his mother. How far had they really gone? I was convinced that my mother-in-law had in fact paraded in front of John in sexy underclothes but had she actually masturbated him and sucked his cock? I couldn’t tell from John’s reaction if we were replaying old memories or simply acting out fantasies that didn’t actually happen but which he had always wanted to.
The more I thought about it, the more I became convinced John and I were replaying things that had really happened. I needed to offer him the prospect of something that hadn’t happened that he had wanted to in order to keep him motivated throughout the ordeal ahead, something I could hold out for ‘good’ behavior.
That night, when John came home, there was a bottle on the counter that he couldn’t take his eyes off all through dinner despite the competing draw of my hair, freshly dyed the color of his mother’s. The fact that I never acknowledged his distraction probably drew his attention to it all the more. While we were eating our dessert, I reminded John of the need to sleep in my bedroom, starting tonight, but kept the fantasy alive by explaining that while his father was away on his trip I was afraid to sleep alone. John’s response surprised me.
“Yes, I understand, Joan. I know what’s truly important. We both love and miss our son but you need him in a special way and you know now how well I understand that.”
“Yes John, I do.” John’s words also made me come face to face with the fact that my behavior wasn’t altogether altruistic.
“So, let’s get on with it and get our son back.”
I noticed that John had barely touched his dessert whereas I had finished mine. I stood up.
“I’m going to go to bed early.”
“I’ll join you,” John said, getting up. “I’d like to make love to the woman I love tonight, my wife.”
I motioned for John to sit down. Don’t get me wrong, I loved hearing that from my husband. What woman wouldn’t? But I had something else in mind for tonight, the first taste of that added incentive to keep my husband focused on our ultimate goal, a pull far beyond words of commitment.
“Finish your dessert first, Johnny,” I commanded in the most authoritative voice I could muster.
John plunked down, surprised by the sudden change in my voice and personality. Mimicking his mother’s voice, something I could do perfectly, I added, “There’s something special I want you to do for me tonight, Johnny. When you do come up, in a few minutes, can you bring that with you?”
I gave no indication of what I meant by that but John knew.
“Bring what?” he asked anyway.
“That,” I snapped, and turned to walk away without glancing at the bottle of Mazola. I swayed my hips in an exaggerated fashion so my ass would capture his attention.
“Yes Mother,” John croaked as I left the dining room and started up the stairs, ass swaying outrageously.
I didn’t know John could finish a large piece of apple pie so quickly. Maybe he could when he was a kid and when he was ‘Johnny’ it wasn’t a big deal to kill off a pie. Anyway, I had barely got changed into one of his mother’s long nightgowns and stretched out on the bed with it pulled up onto my back and over my head, ass bare and inviting, when Johnny arrived.
I doubt Johnny dwelled on the new furnishings in the room but I’m sure he noticed them, adding to the elation of the moment. While he was at work, I had scoured the second hand and antique stores and Craigslist for a bedroom set and a sofa and chair to put in my room. The weren’t perfect but, once re-ulphostered and reconditioned, they were a close match to the furniture in John’s childhood pictures. I bet that even to his mind, and most assuredly to his hard cock, the bare ass on the bed looked just like his mother’s, the one that had beckoned to him for years but he had been unable to attain. Until now.
I tugged the hem of the nightgown above my shoulders, covering my head but leaving enough dyed hair to show for effect. I wiggled my ass.
“Hurry,” I whispered.
The whisper of clothes gave way to a rip, and stumble, and several gasps for breath before the mattress gave way to the weight of John’s knees. I almost laughed out loud. I wasn’t so much amused as unable to contain the rush of power that surged through me, to so easily render this competent man helpless in service of my whims. Yet, I braced myself, for I couldn’t predict whether his approach would be tentative or savage.
Long seconds passed. I heard the twist of a cap being removed from a bottle. I waited for the rasp of hands rubbing together but winced instead as the cold liquid—I had kept it in the fridge until John came home—spashed in several drips on my right cheek, skipped over to my left, and then dribbled along my crack from top to bottom.
Johnny released a long sigh which in words would have said, “Awesome!”
Hands curved around my cheeks, spreading the oily mess all over my ass. They swirled and pressed, enfolded and crushed, and caressed, never harsh, always devoted. A coveted treasure was being honored and prepared for consumption, savored, because the first taste is always the best. I understood now how powerful was John’s need for his mother and, perhaps for the first time, how much Gary needed me. I was humbled.
The glow began spreading faintly through my pelvis even before the first rub of Johnny’s thumbs through my crack. It intensified with the first probe of his right hand thumb which so easily slipped inside. Mazola, the new wonder food.
I could have said I moaned to heighten Johhny’s desire but it would be a lie; I liked what he was doing; I needed it.
He had paused after the first probe to drip more Mazola on my ass. I knew Mazola was the wrong thing to use but it fit the time period and just once shouldn’t hurt; at least, so I reasoned. Now, the slippery, viscous feel of it excited me so much I couldn’t help but whimper my appreciation. John was so good at this. How could it be his first time?
Jesus. He was sliding first one, and then the other, thumb into my ass, twisting on exit. Squeezing my cheeks, probing, reaming, pushing my ass forward, forcing me to lift my hips off the bed, presenting myself, lewd, desparate and wanton. I want it!
Oh my God! Two thumbs at once, fully inserted, wiggling, spreading as they withdrew, fingers bunching my cheeks, squeezing gently, then more urgently. Johnny was gasping and moaning. I wasn’t sure it he couldn’t help it or if he was trying to wind me up even more. Whatever, it worked. I pushed my ass up higher, silently begging to take his cock. I moaned.
“Now,” I croaked.
I felt his knees drawing closer. He was coming. He was going to take me, going to take his mother.
How could it feel bigger than his two thumbs? I sucked in my breath. He was smaller than Gary but still filled me. Please, be careful. He was. Pressure, pressure. Oh God, such wonderful pressure. No, don’t stop, keep pushing. That’s it. He understood, he was just shifting his legs for a better angle. Ahhh, Gawd, yes.
He was in. It wasn’t a sound, just a feeling. The head was in. Rubbing, scraping his shaft through the ring, so long but I knew he was shorter than Gary.
“Oh Johnny, that’s so good, so nice,” I moaned.
His legs were pushing against my ass. He was all the way in. He paused, then began swirling around, gently, fully plugged in, his cock reaming my hole. The tide of pleasure spilled out of my pelvis, cascaded through my chest, filling my tits and running into my head. I drooled onto the pillow.
“Fuck it,” I gasped.
Johhny kept swirling his cock and reaming my hole, no slower and no faster. His cock didn’t withdraw. He kept his firmly plugged into my ass despite my plea.
“Fuck it,” I moaned.
Still no compliance. No withdrawal and forward thrust. This was his dream; it was going to go his way.
I don’t know how much later—I measured the passage of time in waves of pleasure emanating from my anal cavity—but finally Johnny began fucking my ass properly, withdrawing and pushing forward, puling out and shoving in, with long, steady thrusts, never hard, always teasing.
Just fuck it, fuck it hard. I can take it, I want it.
His hands were on my hips, as if I would pull away. How funny. I pushed my ass back to meet him every time.
Harder now, coming faster. Oh Lord, yes. Keep it coming. Slapping noises. Was he slapping my ass? No, it was just the sweaty sound of our bodies colliding.
I arched my back to turn my ass up for a perfect fit but upon full entry Johnny wrenched his cock in a different direction every time. I couldn’t predict it the direction of shear but no matter which way it effectively widened my hole, making his cock feel huge. Every twisting lunge carried the tip of his love stick to a different spot. Anticipation, and the inability to determine where the tingling touch would land, drove me wild. Every thrust was accompanied by a thrilling stretch as the root of his shaft plugged my forbidden entrance.
My climax exploded over me, washing through my body in waves as my clenching butt drained his cock is an erratic series of pulsing clutches. It was several minutes before Johnny was able to extract his softened penis. He got up not long after and much later, I made my own trip to the shower.
- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -
Afterward, I dried myself and collapsed in bed beside John without bothering to put on a fresh nightgown. I awoke to the most wonderful feeling, the warm feel of lip nibbling my pussy. I can’t say how long I had enjoyed my husband’s mouth before waking but shortly thereafter his tongue slipped inside me and the ecstasy it imparted lasted for a long time. When my head cleared after a truly earth-shattering orgasm, John was lying beside me, his arm across my breasts and his eyes looking into mine.
“I love you, Joan.”
“I know you do, John,” I answered, seeing the truth of it as his eyes read mine. “Today I’m bringing our son home.”
“I can hardly wait,” John said, just before he kissed me.
I smiled as I picked a pubic hair from the corner of John’s mouth. One kiss turned into another, casually delivered and leisurely appreciated. My hand strayed down to my husband’s hard cock. I enjoyed stroking it gently, encircled within the oval of my loosely held fingers. A sudden urge prompted me to slide my thigh over his and a moment later my body followed, straddling him briefly before finding and inserting his cock.
All characters are 18 years or older.
- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -
My parents own a small clothing store that does quite well so I don’t need a part-time job after school or in the summers. I used to work in the store but soon quit going because Dad often criticized me in front of the staff. He seemed pleased that I quit going even though he often worked late and could have used help doing the inventory. Mom often offered my services when Dad announced that he had to go back to the store in the evening but he always declined, which I appreciated.
Mom, however, wasn’t too pleased. Eventually, together with other indicators, I came to believe that Mom suspected Dad of having an affair with one of the staff. Dad had hired a number of new people over the years since Mom had left the store and they were all fairly attractive women. With one exception, they were either single or single moms.
As with most good-looking women, Dad’s suspected dalliances hurt Mom. I often had the TV to myself when we were home because Mom would retire to her room shortly after Dad went back to work. On the days when he stayed home, he often read and totally ignored her, despite her attempts to keep up her looks through exercise, diet, dressing nicely, and getting fancy hairdos, all to no avail. Mom became withdrawn and unhappy. My father was quite an asshole.
Despite Mom’s depression, she maintained her health, always exercising and maintaining a healthy diet. However, her make-up suffered along with her wardrobe and her hair was often a mess. One day, I came home to find her with a very short cut that would have looked avant-garde on a woman with a more dynamic, positive outlook. I’m sure Mom had adopted the look simply because it was easier to care for and, in her mind, made her less feminine and therefore less attractive, thus explaining why her husband ignored her.
That triggered something inside me and I decided to find out for myself if Dad really was having an affair with one of the women at the store. Wouldn’t it be great to confess to Mom that I had falsely suspected Dad so she would know that her private suspicions were also unfounded?
Half an hour after closing on a Friday night I entered the store through a back-alley window whose lock I knew to be faulty. I crept through the mezzanine where we kept lots of old displays and mannequins until I could look down upon the main storage area behind the retail area and into Dad’s office off on the left side. The door to the office was open but I could have easily seen inside even if it was shut because the rear wall of the office was comprised of a large window so Dad could make sure nobody was slacking off. There was also a peek-hole into the main store designed to keep the staff vigilant.
Leaning back in his reclining swivel chair, Dad appeared to be thinking. He certainly wasn’t working on the books because the desk in front of him was oddly clear except for a roll of blue shop towels standing up on one end.
A woman breezed through the swinging doors that separated the retail area from the rear of the store. I sighed in disappointment. Crap, it was Mrs. Omed. I had been expecting one of the younger girls or even one of the single moms, maybe especially one of them. Dad wouldn’t be having a tryst with Mrs. Omed there. The night was lost. I’d have to try another time.
Mrs. Omed swept straight into Dad’s office, cash box in hand, which surprised me. When I had worked at the store, everybody knocked and waited to be acknowledged before entering Dad’s office, even if the door was open.
“Okay Ted, everything’s locked up.”
And that surprised me for a second time. Mrs. Omed called Dad by his first name, a huge no-no. He always called his staff by their first names but everyone had to call him Mr. Horlock.
“Tanya, how many times have I told you not to use my first name. You’re going to slip up in front of one of the other girls one day and that won’t be good.”
It wasn’t Dad’s tolerance for Mrs. Omed’s indiscretion that gave me my final shock. It was the way he had spun around in his chair, pants open and hard cock standing up, ready for action.
“Well, aren’t we touchy today, Mr. Horlock,” Mrs. Omed replied in a sassy voice.
“Enough playing around,” Dad waved his hand impatiently. Mrs. Omed complied with his silent command, falling to her knees in front of him. Dad immediately grasped the sides of her head and pulled her face toward him but she resisted.
“I only have time for this tonight, Ted,” she said, emphasizing Dad’s first name. “Norm’s rented a movie and is waiting to watch it with me.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Dad grunted, pulling Mrs. Omed’s head onto his lap. “Ahhhh, that’s it,” he cried, straining his legs and shoving his hips up.
Mrs. Omed’s head snapped back as her mouth filled with Dad’s cock but he pulled her back down to the seat as he fell back and kept her there while he thrust his cock rapidly in and out of her face.
“Fuck, I’ve been waiting for this all day.”
Mrs. Omed mumbled something I couldn’t make out.
“God, you’ve got one fucking hot mouth, baby.”
Mrs. Omed mumbled again. It looked like she was trying to pull off but Dad was gripping her hair firmly with his right hand, pulling her to and fro, while his left cupped the back of her head to block any unauthorized retreat.
“Yeah baby, take it deep.”
Dad leaned forward and plunged his cock uncaringly in and out of Mrs. Omed’s mouth. This went on for quite a while, the air filled with my father’s heavy breathing and the occasional desperate gasp from Mrs. Omed when Dad released her long enough to gulp in some air.
Each time, Mrs. Omed’s head was quickly recaptured, remaining free just long enough for her to breathe and sometimes turn sideways to drool onto the plastic carpet protector. This always seemed to catch Dad by surprise and he drilled Mrs. Omed in the cheek but before thrusting his hips forward to shove his cock, squelching noisily, back into her mouth while pulling on her head for good measure. Mrs. Omed took this rough treatment without complaint. She even unbuttoned her blouse and peeled it off her arms, while her head was locked in front of Dad’s pistoning cock, and tossed it behind her. I guess she didn’t want it to get covered in drool and then have to wear it home.
“I swear, you’re the best little cocksucker I’ve ever had,” Dad huffed and puffed.
Squelch, squelch, squelch.
“But I’m still going to fuck you before you go, Norm or no Norm.”
Mrs. Omed yanked her head back, surprisingly breaking free of Dad’s grip, and spit on the floor.
“No you’re not,” she gasped. “I told you, I’m going home.”
“Just a quickie on the desk.”
“No,” Mrs. Omed sputtered.
“Come on. You know you love it from behind.”
“No,” Mrs. Omed insisted.
“Okay, but then you have to take it in the face.”
“For fuck sakes, Ted. You know I hate that.”
“Hey, you’re the one that wants Christmas off.”
Mrs. Omed unsnapped her bra and shucked it.
“Do it on my tits,” she said.
I actually stretched up and craned my neck in an attempt to see better despite the danger of being seen. I remembered that Mrs. Omed had a very full blouse for such a petite woman and I wanted to see her tits. I bet they were something to behold, slung low and overly meaty for her size. However, her back was mostly to me and all I could see were the sides of her melons as they swayed in front of her. My cock was hard as a rock.
“In the face if you want to go home to Normie right away.”
Dad twisted his head and looked at the roll of blue shop towels he had set in the middle of his desk. Mrs. Omed followed his gaze. I always wondered why Dad kept shop towels on his desk instead of Kleenex. I had thought it was because they were cheaper but now I knew better. Dad must have been doing this for years, even when Mom and I worked at the store. Vague memories surfaced of Dad insisting that I go home with Mom while he stayed late to “clean up a few things.” I guess he had a weird sense of humor.
Mrs. Omed flashed Dad what I suspected was a dirty look. “Asshole,” she said, but her posture slumped in resignation.
Dad grabbed Mrs. Omed by the top of her hair and pulled her onto his cock. The squelching started anew with increased vigor and when Mrs. Omed tried to pull her head away Dad followed her, rising out of his chair. Mrs. Omed fell back on her haunches and Dad stood over her, still holding her hair while jacking his cock, getting ready to spew all over her face.
“Wait, Ted, wait!”
Mrs. Omed struggled up to her feet. “Not on my face,” she said, gasping. “I don’t want to get it in my hair.”
“Get back down and take it,” Dad barked, breathing so raggedly I thought he was going to have a heart attack.
“No,” Mrs. Omed was defiant.
“You little bitch,” Dad yelled, trying to force Mrs. Omed back onto her knees with a hand still gripping her hair.
“Ted don’t,” Mrs. Omed cried, bending over, facing the ground, but refusing to get on her knees.
Dad tried to twist her face up so he could unload but relented, the moment of release obviously passing him by. He swore and instead of letting Mrs. Omed stand up, he dragged her head around and pushed her onto the desk, shouting, “You better wipe the drool off your fucking face before going home to Normie.”
Mrs. Omed’s head knocked the roll of shop towels over but she grabbed it before it rolled off the desk, tore off a couple of sheets, and started wiping the drool off her face. Dad watched her ass wiggle as she rubbed, patted her behind, and then slipped his right hand under her skirt.
“Stop it. I told you I don’t have time.”
“I’m just getting you primed for Normie.”
“Don’t be an asshole,” Mrs. Omed snapped, ripping off another sheet of shop towel.
I was surprised that Mrs. Omed didn’t bat Dad’s hand away. It was already moving under her skirt, rubbing back and forth but Mrs. Omed continued cleaning her face and seemed oblivious to his shenanigans.
“You’ve got a great ass, Tanya. When are you gonna let me have it?”
“Don’t hold your breath waiting for Normie to do it.”
Dad did something under Mrs. Omed’s skirt that made her lurch forward.
“Ted, I said no,” Mrs. Omed barked.
“Come on, you’ll love it,” Dad husked.
Dad’s hand rubbed in a slow, exaggerated arc, moving Mrs. Omed’s whole body to and fro. His other hand lifted her skirt and I could see her butt with his hand firmly ensconced between her tightly clasped thighs. Dad’s thumb was arched skyward and pressed into Mrs. Omed’s panties between her cheeks, wiggling like he was trying to push it into something.
Ignoring her, Dad yanked her panties down to the top of her thighs. Her bare ass beckoned and I wondered why I had ignored it in favor of the smaller ones on the younger staff. It looked so inviting, bent over like that. Dad’s hand constantly moved between Mrs. Omed’s legs.
“Dooon’t,” she wailed.
Dad suddenly lowered his arm and pushed it in, moving further forward. Fuck, he had his fingers jammed way into her cunt. A different squelching sound drifted up to the loft as Dad rapidly finger banged Mrs. Omed, his hand squelching in and out. Holy fuck, it looked like he was getting even more than just fingers in there.
Mrs. Omed moaned, “Stop it,” but she complied when Dad’s left hand pressed on her back and lowered her tits onto the desk and she moved her legs farther apart when Dad kicked her foot.
The only sounds now in the store were the liquid squelching and a chorus of heavy breathing. Mrs. Omed’s legs began quivering and several times she rose up on her elbows until Dad pressed her back onto the desk.
Mrs. Omed was moaning constantly, her ass wiggling above trembling legs wrapped around Dad’s pumping fist, until one final thrust caused her to wail out loud. Mrs. Omed rose up on the desk, legs stiffening as she shuddered on Dad’s hand, and her wail turned to a whimper as she slumped onto the desk. Dad stared at her trembling cheeks.
“Fuck, I gotta have me some of that,” Dad he said.
Mrs. Omed lay quite still though she had to know what Dad was about to do. he fed his half-hard cock into Mrs. Omed’s well-plied hole and started pumping right away. Soon, he was rocking her back and forth on the desk with as little concern for her comfort as when he was punishing her face with his cock.
Dad fucked Mrs. Omed for quite a long time and she seemed in no hurry to finish despite her stated desire to go home to her husband. A couple of times, Dad pulled Mrs. Omed’s head up from the desk and twisted it so he could stick his fingers into her mouth. The enraptured expression on her face left no doubt that she wanted to be exactly where she was, doing exactly what she was doing.
When they finally came, noisily and together, Dad slowly ground his cock around Mrs. Omed’s butt, thigh muscles bulging with the effort of digging it in so deep. He seemed reluctant to leave her steamy warmth, which I understood. I wished it was my cock buried in her cunt. Eventually, Dad’s cock slithered out and he pulled his pants up while Mrs. Omed reached behind, still lying prone on the desk, and pulled up her panties.
“Okay, I’ll lock up and you can go home to Normie.”
Mrs. Omed shook her head, like there was no teaching an old dog new tricks. Laughing, Dad slapped her on the butt and her skirt fell into place when she jerked up.
“Don’t let Normie wear that out on me.”
“I wish,” Mrs. Omed replied sarcastically.
“I wish you’d let me do it on your face more,” Dad’s voice softened. “It isn’t that bad.”
“I told you, Norm’s waiting for me. Last time I was late getting to the restaurant and when I was brushing my hair in the restroom I saw some in my hair.”
“No shit?” Dad laughed.
“It wasn’t funny. Thank God it was hidden underneath and nobody saw it. As it was, I could still feel it on my face and I felt just horrible.”
“You shouldn’t be ashamed of getting what you want. Norm’s a good guy but he can’t give what you need, just like Lisa can’t for me.”
“Have you ever asked her?”
“Why bother? She doesn’t know how and wouldn’t anyway, but you sure do, don’t you?”
The lecherous tone returned to Dad’s voice as he patted the back of Mrs. Omed’s skirt.
“You’re not getting any of that.”
“Yeah, well you said you’d never let me come on your face either.”
“Maybe I won’t anymore.”
“If you give me your ass, I’ll leave your face alone.”
“Yeah, right. You want to come on my face every time.”
“That’s ’cause you always say no.”
“I’m not letting you in my butt, even for two weeks off at Christmas.”
“Did I say just Christmas? You can have Thanksgiving too. You’ll love it, you know…”
Dad turned the light off and their voices trailed off as they made their way to the front of the store. I waited in the dark until I was sure they were both gone.
- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -
Well, I guess I’d discovered what I wanted to know. What did I do now? I couldn’t tell Mom. Christ, my own feelings were a mess. On the one hand, I hated Dad for doing this to Mom but on the other I was tremendously excited about the way he had treated Mrs. Omed.
I mean, Mrs. Omed, of all people. I remembered her as prudish, tightly wound-up, and bossy to the girls, kind of like a little matriarch. Yet, there she was, taking a throat fucking and almost a load on her face, followed up by a hard pounding from behind, from her boss.
Her boss. Was that the ticket. Dad had been so confident, so dominant, and this normally in-control woman had subjugated herself. For what? An extra week off over the holidays? That wasn’t the real reason. No way. She had prostrated herself before my Dad because he was strong, and because he was, he got her to do things like they did on the porno sites. Except, they were paid to act, no matter how real they tried to make it. But this, what I had just witnessed, wasn’t an act, and I was convinced the ‘pay’ was incidental.
Mrs. Omed obviously wanted to get fucked. Why else would she leave her butt so provocatively presented after Dad bent her over the desk? She could have easily got up after getting the shop towels but she didn’t. Yes, Dad was rough but Mrs. Omed invited it.
I wondered if Dad ever treated Mom like that? Mrs. Omed acted like he was incapable of acting differently and the shop towel convinced me they, or at least Dad, had been doing this for years. Dad hadn’t started the store, he had inherited it from his father. Had Dad always treated women that way and did they always succumb to him? Mom had worked in the store with Dad when his father still owned it. I knew Mom and Dad met when she started working at the store when his father still ran it. Was Mom the only one who wouldn’t submit, or did he not even try like he intimated to Mrs. Omed because she was the marrying kind? Or had she, and he just tired of her? If so, did she miss it?
On the long walk home, I convinced myself it was the former. Dad couldn’t handle being a ‘Norm’ and Mom was the marrying kind, the kind that wasn’t a lot of fun, but the type his father would approve of.
“Where were you?” Dad asked when I came in. He was pouring himself a drink and still looked smug.
“Out for a walk,” I answered. “Where’s Mom?”
“In bed, I guess.” I could tell he didn’t much care where she was.
I went upstairs, walking softly so I didn’t wake Mom. Her door was open and the light was on. I looked in, prepared to say hi but she was lying on her stomach, arms stretched over a pillow, holding a book in front of herself, reading. The covers were thrown back, falling over the end of the bed onto the floor.
It had been a hot summer so far and Mom was wearing a short nightie, lying with her legs apart and one foot raised. I looked up her legs and into the darkness between her thighs, wondering if she was wearing panties underneath. My cock swelled up and I remembered that I had come in my pants while watching Dad and Mrs. Omed, although I didn’t know at which point. I needed to shower, but something held me in place.
Mom had nice legs, I noticed, as if for the first time. Sure, I knew Mom was good looking, much prettier and with a better figure than Mrs. Omed, but I had never evaluated her appearance from a sexual perspective. Mom had long, sexy legs and the twin orbs cresting beneath her nightie hinted of a similarly appealing derriere. I imagined Mom bent over Dad’s desk, like Mrs. Omed, and touched myself just as her head twitched to the side, as if suddenly aware that someone was behind her. I stepped past the door before she could turn around far enough to see me.
I took a long shower and stood out of the spray so I could jack off without any telltale sounds giving me away. I tried hard but couldn’t remember ever hearing Mom and Dad having sex, even though their bedroom was only ten feet away across the hall, except for maybe three or four times. Did they do it during the day? Did Dad sneak home for afternooners?
- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -
“Because I haven’t been sleeping well,” Mom snapped.
Dad raised his hands and backed off. I was still sitting at the dining room table, eating my dessert, and my parents were in the living room.
“I’ve been tired lately,” Mom’s tone became apologetic. “I haven’t been myself.”
“Maybe you should have a nap in the afternoon,” Dad suggested.
My ears perked up. Was this it?
“Yes, maybe I should. Are you working again tonight?”
“No, but I probably will be tomorrow. We have a new order in so I might miss dinner.”
“I thought it came in last week.”
“That was another one.”
“Oh, alright. I’ll leave something in the oven for you.”
“Don’t bother, I’ll get something downtown.”
“Rob? Are you going to be home tomorrow afternoon?”
“Me? Uh, yeah, I think so.” I thought for a moment, then said, “No, I won’t. I have to go over to Rick’s.”
“Oh.” Dad looked at Mom. “Maybe I can swing by for a while tomorrow afternoon.”
“Okay,” Mom looked pleased but not convinced.
I couldn’t stop thinking about that exchange all night. I became convinced that Mom and Dad were going to have an afternooner. Why else would he make sure I wouldn’t be home? This was my chance to see if Dad treated Mom like he did other women. I had tried, but I couldn’t remember much about the times I had heard them having sex except that they had just been a bunch of muffled sounds.
- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -
The day dragged slowly, not long after lunch I made a big production of leaving so Mom would know I wasn`t home.
“See ya,” I yelled as I left. “I may not make it home for supper. I might be quite late,” I added.
There was no response from Mom. I closed the door and revved the car a couple of times before leaving. Parking the car a couple of blocks away, I returned to the house, my eyes peeled for Dad’s car even though I was coming from the opposite direction from where he would come. I climbed onto the garage roof and into my room through the window. Dad’s car wasn’t there.
Cautiously, I listened at the barely cracked open door to my room, trying unsuccessfully to locate Mom in the house. The place was dead quiet, so I stayed where I was. I dared not move lest a floor creak give me away. Time passed. I lay down on the carpet, my head near the door. I stretched out my legs to get comfortable waiting for Dad’s arrival.
My eyes opened and I jerked my head up from the carpet. Fuck. I had dozed off.
What was that? I listened intently. Nothing.
Was Dad home? I looked at the window and started to push myself up but stopped. I couldn’t check without risking a telltale squeak. I got onto my knees but remained there in a crouch, ear spanning the gap between the door and the jamb. I was breathing shallowly but it was deafening in my ear.
The affect of that faint sound on me was incredible. Every muscle tingled, especially in my scrotum. I looked down at myself and kicked myself for not getting changed earlier. How could I sneak up for a peek into Mom and Dad’s room in my jeans?
There it was again. My ears weren’t playing tricks on me.
How had Dad managed to get in the house without me hearing? Was it part of their foreplay? Did he sneak into the house and take her like some kind of intruder? Having watched my father with another woman, it wouldn’t surprise me if he played some kind of kinky game with Mom.
Shit, he must be eating her out. I’ve got to get ready. I stood up, teetered, started to grab the door for support, realized the folly of that, and took a single step sideways, thankfully managing to regain my balance without making any noise. Carefully, I made my way to the bed and quietly removed my clothes. I started taking off my shorts, then stopped, realizing that if I was caught, it wouldn’t look good if I was stark naked. I made my way back to the door.
I pulled the door open, congratulating myself on possessing the smarts to have oiled the hinges the previous night.
That was louder but probably because I was in the hallway. I started toward Mom’s room, moving very slowly.
My cock was so hard it was trying to break through my shorts, painfully stretching the material up beyond the waistband. I grasped my shorts and pulled them away from my stomach, letting my cock spring free. Carefully, I let the waistband relax so it wouldn’t snap noisily back and congratulated myself again for keeping my wits about me.
My chest constricted. Mom was really getting into it. I couldn’t hear any other noise, so Dad couldn’t be fucking her yet. I took two more steps, then paused to listen.
Mom’s appreciation was followed by a brief liquid-like squelching noise.
My cock lurched, even though the waistband of my shorts held it tight against my stomach. I pushed my shorts down to my knees, then stooped to shove them over my feet, lifting one leg at a time. I turned and tossed them toward my door but they fell short and landed in the hallway.
Squelch, squelch, squelch.
Dad was there! He had to be eating Mom to make such squishy sounds without the concomitant noise of depressed mattress springs. He couldn’t be just fingering her unless he was pushing his whole hand into cunt, like he did with Mrs. Omed. My cock oozed its special cream. Fuck, oh fuck, I had to see this! I closed the remaining distance to the door, took a deep but controlled breath, and peered inside.
Mom was lying on her bed. Alone!
She was face down, lying on a pillow but lower than before, under her stomach instead of her chest, and she wasn’t reading. I couldn’t see her head, just her hair, but I saw enough that I could tell she was looking to the right. I looked that way and found myself staring at the open door to the bathroom, wondering if Dad was inside. Fear of impending discovery gripped my mind but not enough to make me retreat.
Nothing happened. Dad didn’t come out and I couldn’t hear any noises in the bathroom. I looked back at Mom and saw that she wasn’t actually looking at the bathroom. She was looking at the TV hanging on the wall beside it, watching the porn movie quietly playing on the screen. I could barely heard it from the doorway.
I turned and faced into the doorway. Mom was wearing the same nightie, or one a lot like it, that I had seen her in before but now it was pulled up onto her back leaving her ass bare. She wasn’t wearing any panties. Her legs were open, wider than before, and her behind was moving up and down, just a little. My eyes followed its movements for a minute before I noticed something between Mom’s legs.
Yes, but something else too. Something black and shiny, glistening with moistness, appearing and then disappearing.
Fucking hell, Mom was doing herself with a big dildo, her ass gently moving up and down with a steady rhythm. As I watched her over the next few minutes, I noticed her thighs flexing more strongly with each passing moment and her buttocks clenching tighter with each downward thrust, pausing on the downswing for a microsecond longer each time. A very controlled, intense self-fuck.
The air was filled with a lot more “Mmmmm’s” now and each one was more prolonged. Mom was getting into it, becoming hornier and hornier just like I was. I don’t know when I started jacking off but suddenly became aware that I was stroking my cock and clutching my balls. I had dangerously moved several feet forward, unaware that I had done so, and was only five feet or so from the bed.
I looked at the TV. A large man wearing a medieval-looking, studded leather outfit was slowly shoving an impossibly large cock in and out of a woman dressed in a simple white dress that had fallen up her back as she hunched over on her knees. Her hands were tied behind her and the giant man held them in one hand while he slapped her ass with the other.
I looked back at Mom, suddenly conscious of the fact that if it wasn’t for the muted sound from the TV, Mom could probably hear my own breathing that had become much more excited during the past few minutes.
I had to get out of here!
I started to take a step back but stopped mid-step. What was Mom wearing? There was something black around her head. I leaned forward, peering to see what it was. A mask. Mom couldn’t even see what was on the TV!
I started retreating again but was still leaning forward and I stumbled, my foot falling more heavily on the floor but still barely making a sound. I don’t know what gave me away, that silent footfall or my breathing, but Mom suddenly lifted her head.
Mom’s ass had frozen on the up-stroke, the black dildo plainly showing, half embedded in her pussy. Her head twisted further. She would easily be able to let go of the dildo and remove the mask before I could make it to the door. I was trapped!
I was nailed to the floor, not breathing. Mom’s neck showed the strain of craning around to ‘look’ behind her. She was listening as intently as I was desperate not to make a sound. I needed to breathe.
Please, turn away. Please Mom. It’s nothing. There’s nobody here. Not even Dad.
Dad? Of course. Mom was expecting Dad. All of this was in preparation for his entrance. That’s why she didn’t call his name. That would ruin their role-playing game. I had only one chance and I took it.
I ran toward the bed, jumped, and pounced on Mom, pinning her legs and grabbing the back of her neck, then forced her head down into the bed, controlling it the way I had seen Dad do with Mrs. Omed. Mom waited, panting heavily.
What now? I couldn’t just leave. I had to do something. I couldn’t fuck her. After all, she was my mother. Spying on her was one thing, actually touching her quite another, but I had to do something. I reached down and took possession of the dildo. Uncertain at first, but with more confidence, I moved it in and out of Mom’s pussy, keeping my other hand on the back of her neck to immobilize her head.
After a minute or two, without any struggle from Mom and, in fact, complete acceptance, I relaxed. I let my hand slide down from Mom’s neck to caress her back, following along her spine until I reached the bare skin in the small of her back. Tentatively, I moved my hand onto Mom’s ass and brushed my fingers back and forth across her buttocks, eventually pausing to let my fingertips trail up her crack.
Awesome! Fucking awesome!
Mom lifted her ass in a silent request for more, of my fingertips or the dildo I didn’t know, so I gave her more of both. She arched her back so I knew I had done well. I slipped my left hand up Mom’s back, under the nightie, taking my fill of her bare skin. I couldn’t believe that Dad could do what he did with this waiting for him at home.
I stretched my hand right through the nightie and up onto the back of Mom’s neck, pinching my fingers around it in a controlling clutch. If there was a message in my touch, Mom got it because she arched her back even more and ground her uplifted ass around the dildo when I sunk it in deep. She moaned loudly.
Oh Jeez, that fucking sound almost made me come. I looked down at my hard cock waving above Mom’s bare ass, at hers churning on the dildo, and pulled it out. Mom groaned, a magnificent, disappointed plea.
I stared at her gaping pussy lips, trembling before me, aching to be parted, so the cavern they protected could be filled. I put my hand on my cock and bent it toward Mom’s gaping cunt.
No! She’s Mom!
I let my hand slide off my cock or, more accurately, shoved it off. It collided with Mom’s mewling ass. Slowly, I clenched my fingers into a fist and ground my knuckles into Mom’s pussy lips. She moaned loudly again. I opened my hand, let my fingers find her lips, and slipped inside.
So wet, so deliciously wet, and warm. I had never been with a woman. I had only watched porn and felt up Margaret Wenton on a couple of dates. Were women actually supposed to be hot?
I worked my fingers in and around Mom’s pussy, twisting my hand while my fingers stretched out in eager exploration. Mom’s moans told me she loved what I, what ‘Dad’, was doing. I closed my fingers together, as if I was about to shake someone’s hand, like Dad had done with Mrs. Omed, and pushed.
“Ohhoowwwwohhhhh,” Mom groaned.
I stopped but when Mom didn’t complain further, I pushed in again.
“Oh Jesus, oh God. Ted!”
At that moment I realized my thinking Mom was waiting for Dad was only an assumption. She might have been expecting a lover. So why did she suddenly freeze, her ass just starting to hump back for more? What was wrong? She had called Dad’s name. Was that a no-no in their game? I pulled my hand back a bit but then pushed immediately back in, twisting my hand to force her love tunnel open. Mom relaxed and her ass started squirming around my hand again. She must think she was forgiven.
I had a ball for half an hour after that. I worked and teased and bludgeoned Mom’s cunt with my fist. I alternately tickled and stroked her ass, back and neck, and grabbed her head forcefully, then leaned with my elbow across her lower back while I frigged her furiously with my whole hand. She went nuts. She was so desperately horny I wondered how long Dad had ignored her. She craved my hand, groaning and moaning, even wailing at the end, shouting her orgasm to the world as her pussy flooded its pent-up dam over my arm. In the end, I was leaning over a whimpering sack of quivering, moist flesh, my cock wavering hungrily above a trembling, oh so feminine ass.
I looked down at that gorgeous ass and thought, paraphrasing my father, I’m going to have me some of that.
I straddled Mom’s thighs and used my feet to push her legs together.
Ignoring my conscience, I leaned forward and pushed Mom’s nightie up her back, all the way to her neck. She moved her arms above her head in compliance and I shoved the nightie up her arms but left it covering her head. I placed my hand on Mom’s shoulders, paused for the briefest moment, then slipped them underneath her and grasped her tits.
What wonderful nipples! Long and hard. My fingers tweaked, rolled, pulled, stretched and tugged them this way and that. I was leaning so far forward, crouching over Mom, that my head was right above hers. I pushed myself lower and felt my cock slide between her cheeks until the tip fell between her legs, bumping against her lower lips.
I’m going to have me some of this.
I pushed into her lips.
No! She’s Mom!
But wouldn’t she expect Dad to fuck her? Wouldn’t it be a big put-down if he didn’t even want to fuck her? I had to…for Mom’s sake. I had to fuck her.
I pushed inside until Mom’s lips enveloped my helmet. Mom moaned at the same time as me. I started to shove it in farther, wanting to ram it all the way in to the hilt, but suddenly yanked it out instead. Mom groaned.
I leaned forward and my cock skidded up Mom’s crack. I pushed it between her cheeks and started moving. There was no finesse. I went wild. I’m sure it looked like a mad man had attached himself to Mom’s back. I humped and humped and humped. I can only thank the stars that I didn’t cry out or mumble sweet nothings to my beautiful mother. She was so awesome, and her ass cheeks felt so wonderful, but I wanted to be inside her pussy instead.
I probably didn’t last more than three or four minutes but the amount I unloaded onto Mom’s ass probably would have taken my father a month to produce. I sat up and slowly gouged my cock through her cheeks, wrenching every exquisite tingle from my sore cock. Exhausted, I sat still, astride my mother, looking down at the crevice between her cheeks, filled with my cum, and wondering what to do next.
Would I have to run away? Would she look before I got to the door?
Those thought yanked my mind from the heights of elation crashing down to harsh reality. Mom had been expecting Dad. I was lucky he hadn’t come home and found us but he could be here any minute! I had to get the fuck out.
I worked my way down Mom’s legs until I could step backward off the bed. As soon as I backed my way to the door, I fled to my room and burst inside, then belatedly grabbed my shorts from where they had landed in the hall. Thank God I didn’t forget them. I dressed quickly and climbed out the window, jumped off the garage roof, and ran to the front of the house, then to the neighbors in the direction Dad usually drove home. I had to head him off, let him know I was home so he wouldn’t try to take his afternooner with Mom. If he came in a second time, she would know something was wrong. I waited for hours but Dad didn’t come until dinner time.
- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -
I was afraid to go into the house but knew I had to. I half expected to be attacked as soon as I got in the door, sure that Mom knew it had to have been me when Dad made his excuse for not getting home in the afternoon. However, everything was fine. Mom treated me the way she always did but she was more attentive than usual with Dad. I thanked my lucky stars that Dad didn’t apologize about forgetting to come home and Mom didn’t mention his supposed visit. All I could do was hope they didn’t talk about it alone after they went to bed.
It eventually dawned on me that Mom was acting like any woman who had recently made love to her mate. She was softer, more feminine, and in a good mood, but Dad was his normal aloof self. His whole demeanor spoke volumes. This was simply where he ate and slept, but Mom acted as if something was different.
We were sitting in the living room, watching TV, when Mom asked Dad, “Are you coming home tomorrow afternoon?”
Every muscle in my body went rigid. This was it. Dad would say ‘yes’ and that he was sorry about not making it today. I got ready to make a run for it.
“No, maybe Thursday,” Dad replied off-handedly, looking like he didn’t want to be bothered.
Mom smiled and left it at that.
That night, I struggled with the fact that I had almost fucked my mother. The only saving grace was that, in the end, I had come to my senses. Still, I had spewed my spunk all over her ass and I couldn’t forgive myself completely, at least, not that easily. I swore that it would never happen again. I was lucky to have gotten away with it, and luckier still that I hadn’t actually gone all the way. I would take that luck to the bank and never be bad again.
Within the hour, my hand had found my cock and my mind filled with visions of Mom, blindfolded, waving her ass under my nose, begging to be taken.
- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -
I had been sitting in place for almost an hour before Mrs. Omed came to the back, got her coat, and returned into the store. I heard her saying goodbye to ‘Mr. Horlock’. Obviously, others were still in the store. Several more goodnights followed before the outer lights dimmed. Shit, they were all going home. I had hoped to see another session between Dad and Mrs. Omed. I thought maybe she might give him her ass tonight but she had been the first one to leave.
Footsteps and voices approached. The domineering was my father, the pleading one I didn’t recognize. Dad burst through the curtain and strode into his office, followed by a woman in maybe her late twenties. She was blonde, slim and attractive.
“Please, Mr. Horlock. I need this job.”
Dad had seated himself and was looking at some papers on his desk. He waved off-handedly at the young woman to signal he didn’t want to hear anymore.
“I don’t know why Mrs. Omed said that. I sometimes forget about the accessories but I know I can do better. I can sell more. Please, Mr. Horlock, my little boy…”
Ahhh, it was one of the single moms. Dad swiveled around in his chair.
“What about your son?”
The woman looked crestfallen, visibly shrinking in front of my father.
“He’s in little league now and I won’t be able to afford, I mean, if I lose my job, how will I be able to pay…”
Dad stood up.
“All right now.”
He put his arms around the sobbing woman and pulled her close, patting her on the back.
“Nobody’s going to lose their job…yet.”
The sniffling woman pulled her head back to look at my father.
Dad pulled her close again. “No,” he said, patting her back.
The woman sobbed, then spread her arms and curled them around Dad in a big hug.
“Oh, Mr. Horlock, you don’t know how…”
Her voice abruptly cut off as Dad’s hands slid down from her shoulder blades to her waist and then farther, onto her supple buttocks.
“There, there. We’ll give you another chance.”
Dad’s hands clutched the woman’s cheeks.
Dad released the woman and sat down in his chair. He took her hands in his.
“Look, I know how important it is to provide a good home for your son, maybe even buy him extra things, so if your performance improves…”
Dad paused, looking up at the woman.
“Here, come down here where we can see each other eye to eye.”
Dad pulled on the woman’s hands and she fell to her knees on the carpet in front of him.
“That’s better. Now, where was I? Oh yes. If your performance improves to the point that I’m satisfied with it, you can keep your job, and I’ll even give you a little raise.”
Dad’s hands slid up the outside of the woman’s arms and onto her shoulders, then back down but this time he pushed them under her arms and held her sides, by her breasts.
“We’ll even start you off with a little bonus.”
Dad’s hands moved down to the woman’s waist, the back up along her sides.
“Mr. Horlock, I…”
“That’s much better than losing your job tonight, isn’t it?”
The woman didn’t answer. Dad moved his hands again, this time more slowly and suggestively, palms pressing in against the side of her breasts.
“Isn’t it?” he asked.
The woman said something but I couldn’t hear.
“What’s that?” Dad’s voice was more confident, demanding.
“Yes,” the woman replied meekly.
“Of course it is,” Dad said benevolently, moving his hands to the front of the woman’s dress.
She looked down and to the side while Dad rubbed his palms on the front of her dress. Despite the forward cant of her head, her blonde hair was long enough to remain hanging over her shoulder. Still, with her head to the side, I could see that she was pale with fine features, a delicate woman. She suddenly stiffened and I knew that Dad, keeping his palm pressed against the front of the dress, had closed his fingers to take in the full form of her breasts.
“Everything will be fine, Jennifer, you’ll see.”
Evidently satisfied with the way things were going and confident about where they were headed, Dad released Jennifer’s breasts and slid his hands around to the back of her neck. He fumbled with the hook for a few seconds and then slid the zipper down the back of her dress. Jennifer shivered as her back was exposed but didn’t interfere.
“You’re such a pretty girl. It’s a shame your husband was such a deadbeat, it really is, but you’re better off without him. Things don’t have to be so hard on you, you know, you don’t have to do it all on your own.”
While he was talking in his slithery voice, Dad unsnapped the back of Jennifer’s bra and pushed its straps and the dress down her arms to her elbows. She was very slender. He sat back and looked at the woman, who was still kneeling before him, face turned down and to her left, as if ashamed of her exposure and that she was allowing it to happen.
“That’s better. I’m sure things will start looking up from now on,” Dad smiled.
He put his finger under Jennifer’s chin, lifted her face and turned it toward him.
“Things are going to get better, aren’t they?”
“Yes,” Jennifer mumbled.
“Of course they are.”
Dad took Jennifer’s right hand and placed it on his pants, directly on the noticeable bulge there.
“Let’s see what kind of bonus you’re worth, shall we?”
Jennifer didn’t move.
“Well, get on with it.”
Jennifer jerked and pulled her hand away to cover her mouth, stifling a sob.
“Enough of that,” Dad barked. He unzipped his pants and pulled her hand back, stuffing it inside his zipper. “That’s it, don’t be afraid. Just wiggle your fingers a little.”
I couldn’t see if Jennifer complied with his demand because her head was in the way.
“Yeah, that’s it. See what you can do. He really likes it. Look how you’ve made him grow. Oh yeah, I can see you’ve got a talent for this. Ahhhhh, shit yeah.”
Jennifer moved her head and, from my vantage point in the loft above and slightly to the left behind Jennifer, I could now see her fingers moving inside Dad’s pants.
“You want to see it, don’t you?”
Dad didn’t wait for an answer.
“Take it out. Go ahead, you can look at it if you want.”
Jennifer shook her head.
“Take it out!”
Jennifer fumbled in Dad’s pants for a few seconds but finally managed to pull his cock out.
“There you go. Bet your loser husband didn’t have one like that, did he?”
Jennifer shook her head. Dad might be a braggart but he did have a decent sized cock. It pleased me to be a recipient of my father’s genes and, as disgusting as this scene was, I was fascinated by it and my father’s unrepentant exercise of power.
“Jack it,” Dad commanded.
Jennifer curled her delicate fingers around Dad’s shaft and hesitantly stroked it up and down.
“Grip it harder.”
“Move your hand all the way up and down.”
“Right over the head. That’s it. Squeeze it. Ahhhh, yeah. Keep doing it like that.”
Jennifer moved her hand up and down and Dad leaned back to enjoy it. After a while, he leaned forward and pawed her breasts. I could see his right hand cupping her left breast.
“You’re not very big. I bet you had nothing before you had a kid but they’re not too bad now. A little slopey, but you got nice nipples.”
He pinched her nipple and pulled her tit away from her chest.
“Do you like that?”
Jennifer shook her head but her hand never stopped moving.
“You know what they say about women with small tits?”
Jennifer shook her head again.
“They’re good cocksuckers,” Dad laughed loudly. He stopped laughing abruptly. “Are you a good cocksucker Jennifer?”
She shook her head.
“You mean to tell me that deadbeat husband of yours never made you suck his cock?”
Jennifer shook his head.
“What a wiener,” Dad laughed but abruptly became serious. “Get on it.”
Jennifer looked up at him.
“Come on, enough with the hand. Put your mouth on it.”
Jennifer kept looking up at Dad, unmoving, like a deer caught in head lights.
“Come on,” Dad urged, displacing her hand on his cock with his own and placing the other on top of her head.
He pulled her head forward and fed his cock into her mouth. Jennifer sputtered and Dad pulled his cock back.
“Too big?” Dad laughed. “That’s okay, you’ll get used to it.”
He jammed it back into Jennifer’s mouth but when she sputtered again he ignored her, knotted his fingers in the hair on top of her head and pulled her onto his cock. He didn’t stop until Jennifer choked and yanked her head back, gagging. Dad laughed and as soon as she stopped coughing, he jammed his cock back into her face.
“Deeper, come on, you can do it.”
Jennifer tried to grab Dad’s cock but he batted her hands away.
“Okay, we’ll work it in slowly.”
Dad grabbed both sides of Jennifer’s head and started flexing his hips, fucking into her face. She kept trying to pull her head back but couldn’t. Dad kept up a steady rhythm but didn’t go too deep and after a while until Jennifer seemed to relax. I guess she had learned to handle the assault, the brutal invasion of my father’s meat in her mouth. When she was taking his cock easily, he started pulling on her head and shoving it in deeper. Every few thrusts, Dad pulled out and let Jennifer clear her throat, but shoved his meat back into her mouth quicker each time.
I was amazed by how quickly Jennifer adapted to Dad’s cock plunging deep into her mouth. At first, she had barely been able to take his head in but now Dad was pulling her face all the way down to his balls and holding it there for a few seconds before releasing her and letting her head pop off his cock and then, right away, pulling her back onto it.
This went on for a while and I wondered when Dad was going to stand up and bend Jennifer over the desk like did to Mrs. Omed but when he started breathing harder and harder, I knew he wasn’t going to. He was going to unload on her face, the way Mrs. Omed wouldn’t let him. Sure enough, Dad suddenly held Jennifer’s head firmly in place and thrust frantically in her face. He was gasping and moaning really loud. He stood up in a half crouch and continued plunging into Jennifer’s upturned face.
Then he was yelling, making weird, primeval sounds, coming in her mouth, grabbing his cock and pulling it out, steering it around her face, covering her with his spunk. Only when the last drop dripped off his cock did he release her hair.
“Lick it clean,” he commanded.
Jennifer dutifully took Dad’s cock back into her mouth and sucked until he pulled it out, satisfied. He turned around, grabbed the roll of shop towels, tore off several sheets, and threw them at her.
“Clean yourself up.”
He stuffed his cock away and zipped up. Jennifer had stood and was getting some more shop towels, her dress sliding unnoticed over her slim hips and down her legs to the floor, revealing a pair of cheap cotton panties barely covering a nice, tight little butt. Dad admired her pear-like cheeks and patted the right one.
“I was right. You’re a great little cocksucker, Jennifer, and you’ve got a nice little ass to boot. Too bad you wore me out with your mouth. Look, here’s a hundred for you and another to get some extra babysitting for your kid. I want to see you tomorrow, no, make that Thursday. I’ll have a talk with Mrs. Omed tomorrow to straighten her out and let her know about your raise. Now, go pick out some nice under things from the store for yourself, and maybe a dress or two. Nothing too expensive, mind you.”
Dad stuffed the bills into Jennifer’s hand.
“Don’t worry kid. You got a job here for life it you keep that up.” He looked down her front. “And don’t forget the panties. Those things don’t do justice to what you got under there.”
Jennifer stooped to pick up her dress and pulled it up. She zipped up without putting the bra on, holding it in her hand with the money.
“Listen, honey. If you start having second thoughts, think about your kid and how you’ll get another job if I spread the word that you’re a little thief.”
Jennifer looked indignant and started to protest but was stopped by Dad’s sneering smile.
“It’s a tough world, kid. Run along home now and don’t be calling in sick tomorrow.”
- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -
My father had always been a tough employer but I had never known he was a real bastard. I mean, he was a real heel, a miserable fucking cunt. But, look at the awesome sex he got. The thought of what he was going to get on Thursday made my cock throb. I had come in my pants again and now, after a long shower, sitting in my room, I was hard again.
Tomorrow, Dad would be busy with Mrs. Omed, and Thursday it would be Jennifer’s turn again. I wanted to see that, but tomorrow, Mom would be waiting for Dad in the afternoon. Would he come? I had my doubts but I had to be sure. I called Jessica.
“Hey Jessica, how are you?”
“Yeah? That’s great.”
“No, I’m not coming back to work in the store. Dad and I still don’t see eye to eye.”
“Yeah, I know. Look, Mom’s planning a surprise for him later this week. No, don’t tell anyone at the store, but listen, can you let me know if he leaves tomorrow afternoon? She’s getting stuff ready and doesn’t want him to find out. You can? That’s great. Yeah, I’ll come down for a coffee soon.”
“You too. Bye.”
That was easy. Maybe I had more of Dad’s genes than I thought.
- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -
“I’m going out Mom. See you after supper,” I yelled.
Mom had dressed nicely again today and was super nice to Dad but he hadn’t noticed. I got the feeling that Mom thought he was just putting on an act because she seemed more pleased the more he ignored her. He was such a prick yet women fawned over him. I bet within weeks that Jennifer wouldn’t be moping about her situation. I bet she’d be leaning over Dad’s desk, eager for a pounding from behind. Dad had a way about him.
I dropped the car off and hurried home. In my room, I set my phone so I would vibrate if Jessica called, then undressed quickly, this time leaving my shorts on the bed with the rest of my clothes. Kneeling down by the floor, I listened for Mom’s telltale murmurs but all I could hear was the DVD playing in her room.
Excellent! Mom was already into it. I pushed the door open and crept stealthily down the hall, then peeked around the door jamb.
Mom wasn’t there!
Shit! I looked down the hall, listening for sounds coming from downstairs. Nothing. I looked back into Mom’s room and immediately jerked my head back because she was coming out of her bathroom, humming. I was about to sprint back to my room when I noticed her reflection in the mirrored closet doors with her back to me while she stood in front of the TV with the remote in her hand. She was changing the DVD.
Mom was wearing a sexy black camisole. While she waited for the DVD to start, she pushed the matching lacy black panties down her legs and kicked them off her feet. Man, the camisole only coming down to her waist really emphasized her ass! It was bigger than Jennifer’s but firmer than Mrs. Omed’s, and bare, completely bare.
I closed my eyes, trying to contain the excitement overcoming me. When I opened them, Mom was kneeling on the bed, placing a pillow in the middle. She pointed the remote and adjusted the sound, then leaned over the pillow to watch the porno flick on the TV.
I stood in the hallway for a long time, intently watching Mom’s ass as she watched the TV with equal concern. The man on the TV was treating a woman about Mrs. Omed’s age the same way Dad treated her and Jennifer. My cock surged as I realized that Mom must like the same kind of treatment.
Well, Dad wasn’t coming, was he?
This isn’t some woman working in the store, asshole. It’s your mother.
Yeah, well, I wasn’t going to do anything, not more than last time. I wasn’t going to do her. All I wanted to do was finger her, maybe put my whole hand up there. She loved the full thickness of my fingers, right up to the knuckles, last time. That’s all I was going to do, what she wanted, like I was performing a service she needed but couldn’t get from her deadbeat husband who should be doing it for her. Just because he’s an asshole doesn’t mean she should go without. I mean, look how happy she’d been the last two days. I wanted to make Mom happy; I had been making her happy.
Whoa. Mom was getting up on her knees. I got ready to retreat to my room. Ahhh, no problem. She was just putting on the blindfold which, I saw now, was actually a sleeping mask. Great. My cock tingled. We were getting close and it was very eager to get started.
Mom leaned over the pillow and squiggled around, getting comfortable. Her legs opened and I saw her pussy with its pink slit running down the middle. Oh, fuck this was going to be great. The dildo appeared and Mom fumbled with it for a few seconds, slowly inserting it in her pussy. In a moment, it was in and Mom started slowly humping it. We were away!
I forced myself to stay in the hall. I wanted to rush in and play with her ass and pussy but knew I had to wait until she was really horny. It was a long time before I heard the first sigh, the slightest whimper, and then the titilating, “Mmmmmm.”
It was incredibly hard to wait while those “Mmmmm’s” grew in length and frequency but I did it and was proud of my stoicism. When I was about to enter, I had a brilliant idea. I should go downstairs and open and close the front door to make it sound like Dad had come home. I crept downstairs, cock bouncing all over the place, and did it, then returned. Coming up the stairs, I cursed myself for being stupid. What if Mom had got up to greet Dad? I had only seen her wait for him once. What if that wasn’t routine?
Not too worry. When I peeked nervously into Mom’s room, her ass was worshipping the dildo and her blindfolded head was focused intently on the TV. I approached the bed, stood waiting for a minute, then kneeled on the mattress. Again, I waited, knowing Mom was aware of my, or so she thought, Dad’s, presence. Her ass had stopped humping the dildo and she was waiting.
I waited longer, controlling my breathing, and listening to Mom’s. She pulled the dildo out of her pussy and let it fall on the bed. Her ass pushed up, beckoning, her pussy pouting a warm welcome, waiting for the Thor’s hammer.
The anticipation in the room, on both our parts, was thick and heavy. Mom’s pussy lips moved as if she was breathing through them. She really wanted it, wanted my fingers, needed my hand. She was so fucking horny. Her thighs parted a fraction of an inch, opening her lips, moistly begging for my hand, my fingers, anything.
I kneeled closer, reached for Mom’s hands and crossed them behind her back, holding both slender wrists in my left hand. I lowered my right and lined it up between her thighs, being careful not to touch her legs, but I could tell she knew what was coming. Inch by inch, my fingers approached Mom’s slit. When they were almost there, I flicked the tip of my longest finger to brush Mom’s lips and she flinched, moaning. I teased her like that, adding a vertical exploration of her slit, for several minutes. When not relishing my power, I was mesmerized by the sight of her twitching ass, quivering thighs, and trembling pussy lips. I felt in total control.
With all that preparation I still took her by complete surprise when I plunged my fingers in deep. Mom yowled in delight and gasped and moaned constantly as I frigged her madly, jamming my fingers in her cunt hard and fast. She didn’t know what hit her but she rode it like the wind. Abruptly, I stopped, and pulled my dripping fingers out.
Oh, what a forlorn wail. It pulled my heartstrings and I almost relented, my fingers moving back toward her lips I pulled them away. I waited again, hovering near. Soon, my fingertips grazed up the inside of Mom’s thighs but skirted around her throbbing pussy and moved instead up onto her ass. I feathered all around her cheeks for several minutes before exploring her crack and then left her alone, even pulling my hand away from her wrists.
Mom could only know I was still there by my weight on the bed.
Suddenly, I grabbed her ass cheeks and pulled them apart, then spit on the crinkly, penny-sized hole. Quickly, I squeezed her cheeks and rubbed them together, pulled them apart, spit again, then pinched them together for another rub. Releasing her cheeks, I dug my left thumb in and ran it up and down her crack, pausing to let it nudge into the little depression holding most of my spit.
When I looked at a girl’s ass, I just liked the look of it. I had no idea what the attraction was other than that but Dad had put ideas in my head. Why did he want to fuck Mrs. Omed’s ass? Did he have gay tendencies, and what about me? I had to admit, the idea was beginning to appeal to me, but not with Mom. I couldn’t do it with my own mother, but what about Mrs. Omed, or better, that lovely little set of pears on Jennifer?
My fingers found Mom’s pussy and pushed inside. First two, then three, and finally four. It took quite a while but eventually I squeezed my whole hand in, past the third set of knuckles, and slowly twisted it around and moved it back and forth. Mom was loving it. I leaned close over her ass and licked her crack. Mom tossed her ass around wildly. I licked her crack again, flicking the tip of my tongue all the way up. I had to lean on her to keep her close to the bed.
I tried to pull Mom’s cheeks apart but couldn’t with one hand so I pulled hers down, one at a time, and placed then on the sides of her cheeks. She got the idea and pulled them apart which let me spit on her crinkly asterisk and tease it with the tip of my tongue. It didn’t taste horrible like I thought it would so I pressed the flat of my tongue against it and wiggled it, then flicked it again with the tip.
I played around like that some time and neglected the hand in Mom’s pussy. No problem, she was fucking it, squirming her ass around on it, or was she trying to get more of my tongue. I pulled away and put my thumb on Mom’s little bud, then pressed. Slowly, it popped inside. Mom went absolutely still but when I pushed my thumb in to the hilt, she started wriggling around on it like mad. It was all I could do to keep my thumb plugged in her ass and my fist in her cunt. She was breathing so hard her lungs hoarsely gulped for air. It was a relief when she came, going rigid, clenching her butt cheeks and clamping her thighs around my hand, bucking so hard and fast I thought she was going catatonic.
I let Mom’s orgasm dissipate while her breathing returned to normal. The only thing I did, as a minor distraction, was to drool more spit along the crack of her ass. She didn’t seem to mind. Last time, I had rubbed my cock through her cheeks and come on her ass. I’m sure Mom thought I was preparing to do the same, and so did I. After all, what good would my cock do inside her after reaming it out with my whole hand?
I pushed her legs together and grabbed her hands, holding them behind her while I nudged my cock into her crack and started sliding it through her cheeks. Bless her heart, Mom moved her ass against my cock, rubbing her crack along the length of my shaft, or Dad’s shaft, as she thought. It was my turn.
I had only been rubbing for a few minutes, which wasn’t bad given how short my last sojourn had been, when Mom wriggled her right hand free of my grip and grabbed my cock. To my surprise, she angled it down. Frightened, I pulled back. If she brought it to her pussy lips, I didn’t know if I could stop myself.
What the hell? What was wrong with a little taste. In my current state, if Mom pressed my tip against her pussy, I would come instantly. I let her pull my cock forward and barely resisted when she pulled the head into her slit. Mom surprised me again when rubbed my tip around and then pulled my cock out, redirected it higher and settled it on her cheeks again. However, instead of slipping the shaft through her crack, she kept my cock pointed down and pulled it along until the tip nudged the pretty little asterisk I had kissed before.
Oh my God, she wanted it in the ass.
How could I refuse? Wouldn’t Dad do it? Of course he would; how could he turn down such a gift? I was trapped, but I was hardly unhappy about it. It wasn’t really sex, I told myself. I wasn’t putting it in my mother’s pussy. It was just her ass. Didn’t couples in those eastern countries do it that way before they were married? Of course it’s okay.
No Rob, it isn’t!
Fuck my conscience. It was faint anyway. I pushed, met resistance, leaned over and drooled onto my cock and watched it ooze down the shaft and between Mom’s cheeks, onto that pretty little rosebud. I pushed, was thrilled when Mom’s cheeks parted, widened, my helmet filling the reluctant little hole. Mom groaned but I kept pushing, it was going in, push harder, moving forward, so tight, so fucking tight. Plop, it was in. Mom twisted her head around, moaning, her hand pressing against my thigh. Yes, go slow. I understood.
Was this Mom’s first time?
I waited, holding my cock just inside Mom’s butt. And waited. She twitched her ass, then again, and again. She moved it, pushing back, forcing my cock deeper. I pushed in but her hand pressed against my thigh again. I held still until she started twisting around on my shaft again. I started moving in and out, real slow. Mom groaned and thrust her ass back on my hard cock. Oh yeah, this was going to be so good.
“Do you like it? I know you always wanted to, but does it feel good?”
I grunted for an answer and shoved in hard once, twice, three times.
“Unghhhh, unghhhh, ungnnnhhhh.”
That was answer enough. Mom turned her face into the pillow and I started fucking her ass for real. My cock moved easily between her cheeks which fascinated me. I grabbed the pillow under Mom and yanked it out, then slowly increased my pace, holding myself up on braced arms while I watched her creamy buttocks bouncing between the mattress and my cock.
Soon, we were at a frantic pace and I was blown away that I wasn’t yet ready to come. Abruptly, I stopped and smiled when Mom’s ass kept working on my shaft, reaching up and pulling down, fucking me, forcing me to take her ass, moaning and groaning, desperate for me to continue. Absolute joy ripped through me.
I bent my elbows and lowered myself until I was lying along the length of Mom’s body so she could hardly move, then pulled my cock out and slowly pushed it back in, deep, then ground it in her ass. Like before, I slowly built up my pace, but with glacial lunges deep into her ass. I licked her back between her shoulder blades, kissed her neck and nibbled on her ear, bit her shoulder, then pulled her head up and grunted in her ear while reveling in the guttural moan each thrust forced from her throat.
Once more, I took Mom up to a hammering pace, our bodies bouncing as one on the mattress, our groans intermingling and becoming lost in each other. When she started coming, when I started coming, I let her face fall into the bed and bit the nape of her neck again, grinding against her ass, filling it with my gooey spend.
I didn’t move for a long time. I stayed on Mom’s back, panting, my lips pressed into the join between her neck and shoulder while she breathed raggedly below me, her face turned once again toward the TV.
Mom didn’t move when I got up. I didn’t inch my way backward, ready to run, like I had before. I knew she wouldn’t try to look. I kissed each cheek and the bottom of each foot, then strolled out of her bedroom.
I felt no remorse this time. I had fucked my mother’s ass and, for the first time in a long time, I felt as if the world was as it should be. Mom was happy, I was happy, and I would be back for another afternooner and maybe even a night visit.
I didn’t bother waiting to head Dad off at the pass. I knew he wouldn’t come.
- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -
Mom was super attentive to Dad that night which irked me no end. It was I, not he, that deserved her appreciation. I sulked and had to suffer a comment or two from Mom about being sullen.
“There’s lots to be happy about in the world, you know, lots to appreciate,” she said.
That was rich coming from a depression Queen that owed her recent sparky return to life to my efforts. Nonetheless, I took it and made an effort to perk up. It wasn’t that hard, looking at Mom. She had dressed nicely again, for Dad of course, but I still got to look at her and be around her new, cheery self. There wasn’t a woman in the store that could hold a candle to her and yet my father couldn’t see it. He didn’t just take her for granted, he completely ignored her.
But I didn’t. I complimented Mom on her hair. Although it still didn’t even touch her neck, she had done it up in a cute cut. In fact, looking at her, I loved the way I could see all of her slender neck and bare shoulders. I hoped she wouldn’t grow it long again the way it used to be. I wanted to see as much of her beautiful skin as I could. Dad liked long hair and I decided then to convince Mom to keep hers short.
Surprisingly, Dad didn’t go back to the store that night, despite his commitment to discuss Jennifer’s situation with Mrs. Omed. I wondered what was up.
The next day I hung around the house. I waited to see if Mom thought Dad was coming home that afternoon but she didn’t say anything and after lunch she didn’t make excuses for taking a nap like she’d done before. Instead, she went out in the yard to garden.
Dad didn’t come home for dinner. The first I knew about it was when Mom put a plate in the oven to keep warm.
“He’s working late again. He works so hard. I really think you should help him out at the store.”
“Mom, he doesn’t want my help. I just get in the way.”
“That’s not true. You’re a good worker. Your father told me so himself.”
“Yeah? What did he say?”
“He said…um…that you were a hard worker but he thought you should get some experience outside of the store. But your father works hard and I think he needs your help. He’s just too proud to ask for it.”
An idea struck me.
“Maybe I could go down on Thursday and Friday nights?”
“That would be a start.”
“Maybe Tuesdays too.”
“That’s the spirit.”
“And Saturday afternoons.”
“Don’t make fun of me, Robbie.”
“I’m not. I’m serious. I’ll start tonight since it’s Thursday.”
“It’s too late tonight. Start tomorrow instead. Maybe you can give your father a break so he can get home for a later dinner before going back until closing time.”
“Okay Mom, but I’ll just run down to see how things are going tonight.”
“If you insist, but eat up now before your dinner gets cold.
- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -
I sneaked back into the house after leaving that night, hopeful that Mom might get ready for another visit from Dad, but she was downstairs watching TV. Obviously, she didn’t expect him home. I sat around, being quiet as a mouse, but soon got bored. I thought about Dad, and then Jennifer, which motivated me to get off my ass. I drove down to the store, got into the back loft in the usual spot, and waited.
Dad came in ten minutes before closing time and sat at his desk. People came in and said goodnight but Dad ignored them, supposedly consumed by paperwork. Mrs. Omed came in with the cash box, set it on the desk and stood behind Dad. He ignored her also until she placed a hand on his shoulder.
“I’m leaving now, Mr. Horlock,” she said in a voice louder than her proximity required. “I’ve asked Jennifer to stay and lock up tonight.”
She leaned close to Dad’s ear and said something I couldn’t hear. He dropped his pencil and turned around, saw that they were alone, and patted her on her behind.
“Good girl,” he said in a confidential tone.
Mrs. Omed laughed softly. “Don’t work too hard,” she said, then turned and left, amusement filling her face.
The lights dimmed through the door and Jennifer parted the curtain a few seconds later. She was wearing a nice dress that looked new. It looked like the kind of thing sold in our store.
“Mr. Horlock? Everything’s locked up.”
Dad put on his ignoring act.
“I’ll be on my way then.”
Jennifer started to leave but Dad swiveled his chair around and the hope that briefly flashed on Jennifer’s face faded.
“Wait. No, don’t turn around. That’s a nice dress, Jennifer. It looks good on you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Horlock.”
Jennifer took a tentative step forward but stopped when Dad spoke again.
“Did you arrange for your babysitter to stay longer?”
Jennifer sighed. “Yes, Mr. Horlock.”
“That’s good, that’s very good. Come closer, girl. No, don’t turn around, just back up. That’s it…wait…just stand there for a minute.”
I could see embarrassment and even shame on Jennifer’s face as she stood in front of Dad, her back to him, as he surveyed her slender body. A strange mixture of sympathy and excitement flowed through me and my cock began to swell.
“A nice dress, that’s for sure, but it looks kind of long for you. Pull it up a bit.”
Jennifer didn’t move.
“Put your hands on the sides and slide it up your legs.”
Jennifer did as she was told this time, her face very red. She stopped when the dress was half way up her thighs but Dad urged her to pull it up higher. She stopped again when the hem was just below her ass.
“Pull it right up. Let’s see what kind of panties you picked out.”
Jennifer started to comply but then paused. Her face was red as a beet.
“Pull it up,” Dad snapped.
Jennifer took a deep breath and slid the dress up over her hips until it bunched at her waist. I could see a nice pair of red lace panties. My cock bulged in my shorts so I loosened the top button and carefully parted the zipper.
“Yeah, those are nice. I didn’t know we had such nice ones in the store. I’ll have to commend Mrs. Omed. Speaking of her, I hope she’s been nicer to you today.”
Jennifer mumbled something.
“What’s that? Speak up.”
“Good, good. Back up. All the way back.”
Dad’s hands rose from the arms of his chair and disappeared behind Jennifer. I could tell from her face he was touching her panties and then massaging her cheeks as she lurched forward a bit. Dad reached between Jennifer’s legs to catch her, his fingers folding around to cup the front of her panties.
“Yeah, nice, real nice.”
Dad ‘s hands returned to his lap and undid his belt. He parted his trousers and pulled his cock, already hard, out of his underwear.
“Pull them down.”
“Pull them down. They belong to me, not you.”
Reluctantly, Jennifer pushed the red panties down until her ass was exposed. The panties stretched across her thighs, exposing a nice patch of pubic hair that was darker than the hair on her head but still blonde. Dad reached behind him and grabbed a small plastic squeeze bottle from the top of his desk and squirted an oily liquid on his cock. As he rubbed it in with one hand, he reached out with the other to poke at the bottom of Jennifer’s ass.
“You’ll need to trim that bush for me. Come closer.”
Jennifer backed up but she could only go a half step before unexpectedly banging into Dad’s chair. She lost her balance but Dad caught her, his hands grasping her waist under the dress.
“Can you feel that?” he asked.
Jennifer didn’t answer. Her hands were trying to find the arms of Dad’s chair so she could push herself back up but Dad held her firmly in place.
“I knew you’d be a little dry the first time,” he said, “but next time you won’t be, I promise.”
Jennifer struggled but Dad steered her onto his cock. Her mouth opened the moment he began to penetrate her.
“Yeah, you’re not used to that, are you?”
Jennifer’s mouth remained open as Dad pulled her down until she was nestled in his lap.
“Do you like a big one, little girl? Huh?”
Dad was already moving inside her and Jennifer’s face twisted in and out of several emotions as she tried to accommodate his big cock.
“Oh yeah. She likes that, doesn’t she?” he talked to himself for her benefit.
Jennifer, slight as she was, was easily bounced up and down on Dad’s lap as he both thrust and pulled her down on his meat.
“Oh yeah, we’ve got a convert now, don’t we?”
Dad’s hands slipped off of Jennifer’s waist and grabbed her hands. Leaning forward, he half dumped her onto the floor but kept her from falling completely off the chair. Despite her awkward and uncomfortable position, he began fucking her hard, causing her whole upper body to flap around above the floor. I couldn’t see the look on Jennifer’s face because her long hair had fallen over her head.
Dad was banging her so hard Jennifer’s head came into contact with the floor despite the firm grip me maintained on her arms, stretched behind her back. Seeing this, he leaned further forward and started banging her even harder, forcing her forehead to skid across the plastic carpet protector.
“It really fills a skinny little thing like you, doesn’t it?”
Dad stood up and pulled Jennifer’s head off the floor but kept her doubled over. He arched his back and wiggled his hips from side to side, digging his cock as deep as her could into Jennifer’s cunt. Leaning over her, he grasped a handful of her hair and tugged her head up, then started fucking her hard again.
“Do you like that? Huh? Huh?”
Jennifer was too far gone to answer. I had thought she might be in pain, that she was struggling to bear this gross assault, but her face, exposed when Dad pulled her head up, was consumed with raw ecstasy. I was stunned. She did like it. In fact, from the look on her face, twisted up like it was with her mouth wide open, she absolutely loved it, I guessed because she hadn’t had a big cock before and it really must feel different.
Dad stopped suddenly and spun Jennifer around to face the desk, his pants sliding down and puddling around his ankles. He pushed her onto the chair on her knees until the chair leaned back toward the desk. When it went over far enough, the legs kicked out and the chair started to skid out from the desk. Jennifer cried out but the chair quickly stopped. Dad had tied it to the inner legs of the desk, just inside each set of drawers, halting its fall.
Jennifer was now on her knees, leaning over the back of the chair and pushed half over the desk. Dad straddled the chair and stepped up behind Jennifer, put his hand around the back of her neck, and pushed her head onto the desk. As her ass lifted, Dad ducked, used his cock to scout for her hole, and shoved it in. Jennifer tried to lift her head but couldn’t.
A very steady fuck followed. If any cops were on the beat walking the alley, they would have knocked on the front door to see what was going on. But there were no interruptions. Dad’s pelvis noisily slapped against Jennifer’s ass, adding to the din. My hand found my own cock and started stroking it in time with Dad’s thrusts and Jennifer’s moans. Yes, she was actually moaning. About half way through the pounding, she became quite vocal.
When Dad increased the fury of his attack, grabbing Jennifer’s hair and pulling her up until her back was arched and her neck kinked with each forward lunge, she got even louder. She was loving it and it seemed clear that Jennifer had never been fucked like this, fucked hard and well. When Dad released her hair and grabbed her waist to hold her cunt in place for the final ravaging, Jennifer braced her hands on the desk and kept her torso lifted with her head thrown back.
When she came, you would have thought an animal was being gutted, it was so primordial. She slumped over but Dad lifted her and, with her body still perched on his cock, backed away from the chair and set her down on her feet. As soon as he turned her around she lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist. Grasping her under the thighs, Dad lifted Jennifer and she squirmed around until she found and slid down over his cock, impaling herself.
“Ahhh Jenny, you’re a good girl. Did you like that?”
Jennifer’s head, buried in the nape of Dad’s neck, nodded.
“If I was a younger man, I’d give you another go, but you’ll have to wait lassie.”
Dad reached around to cup Jennifer’s ass. Immediately thereafter her head jerked up, mouth open in a silent wail.
“It’s okay darlin’, it’s just a little finger is all. Nothing to worry about.”
Dad’s wrist wriggled and I knew he’d stuck a finger in Jennifer’s ass.
“Just something to think about for next time,” Dad said.
Jennifer buried her head back in Dad’s shoulder and shook it. She said something but I couldn’t make it out.
“Well, you probably didn’t think getting fucked was going to be any fun either.”
Jennifer mumbled again.
“Too big?” Dad laughed again. “You’d be surprised what you can take in there. Don’t worry about it now. I wouldn’t hurt you.”
Dad lifted Jennifer off his cock and set her down on the floor.
“Go pick out a new dress for yourself.”
Jennifer started to pick up her clothes but Dad stopped her.
“In the nude girl. I want to see you wandering out there butt-naked.”
Jennifer scooted out of the office and into the store and Dad followed after pulling his pants up.
- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -
Friday night at supper, I made sure Mom knew I was going down to help Dad at the store. I asked if she wanted me to take him some dinner but she declined, saying I should tell him to nip home for a good hot meal.
By the time I was ready to leave, Mom had turned out the living room lights. Seeing my expression, she explained that she was going upstairs to read until Dad came home. Mom’s face seemed a little flushed and her breath a little short. She was excited, and that excited me because I knew my ploy had worked. With me at the store, Mom thought Dad would come home for a session. Fantastic! Damn right he would.
I parked the car in the usual place, waited half an hour, and then made my way back to the house. In my room, I undressed and listened at the door, hardening the instant I heard a porno clip playing on Mom’s TV. I crept into the hall, stark naked, and made my way down to Mom’s room. I peeked in.
She was lying on the bed but not on a pillow. She was wearing a black, lacy camisole bunched up on her waist and nothing else. Each time her ass raised up, her bare pussy flashed into view, plugged full of her own fingers. From the sound of her breathing, I knew she was already ready for my entrance. Had I waited long enough for Dad to get home? I wasn’t sure but then realized that Mom probably didn’t know how much time had passed either.
Quietly, I retreated down the stairs where I opened and closed the door. I clumped upstairs and walked into Mom’s room. Her ass started wriggling on her fingers faster as soon as I stopped at the end of the bed. Seeking perfect realism, I spotted some of Dad’s clothes on a chair by his side of the bed, picked them up, and dropped each piece on the floor, one by one.
I loved waiting and watching her anticipation. The way she squirmed around, opening and closing her pussy lips, was almost enough to make me come. Fuck, she was hot. I pressed my knee onto the bed to let her know I was coming but instead of getting fully aboard, I bent her leg and started licking the bottom of her foot.
“Mmmm, yesss,” Mom cried.
I flicked my tongue along the crease at the bottom of her toes and dragged it between each pair of toes in turn. After that, I chewed on the edge of her sole, nipped her heel and pinched the Achilles tendon between my teeth. I gave the same treatment to Mom’s other foot while lightly stroking the calf of the first leg. When I was done, I bent both knees until Mom’s curled feet were almost touching her ass above her widespread thighs. I kneeled behind her and found her waiting cunt, pushing immediately into her wetness with three fingers.
“Oh my God,” Mom hissed. “Don’t tease, just fuck me.”
I was some taken aback, I can tell you. Mom lifted her ass and swirled it teasingly around in front of my face. What an invitation.
Don’t you even think about it.
“Please baby. Just fuck me.”
Mom’s ass yawed in front of me. She lifted it really high. What to do?
I leaned forward and pushed my flat tongue onto her pussy. Mom lurched ahead and then quickly back.
“Ohhh baby, it’s been so long since you did that.”
I pulled back, rose up on my knees, and reached over her back to grab her head and, turning it, pushed her face down into the bed. It was a signal that her familiar talk was ruining the game. If I allowed Mom to talk too much, she would soon expect a response, and then the game would really be up.
I returned to her pussy and gobbled her lower lips into mine, sliced my tongue through her slit, and started lapping. My finger found her mons and began rubbing across it, occasionally curling down to flick her clit.
I took Mom through two orgasms before grabbing my cock and pressing it between her cheeks but she blocked me, putting her hands across her ass to cover the little hole. I pushed them aside but they quickly returned. Mom mumbled into the mattress. I couldn’t understand her so I twisted her head until her mouth was clear.
“Sore,” was all she said
What the fuck could I do now?
You can’t fuck her.
Oh, go fuck yourself, conscience.
I know, I know.
I looked at Mom’s gorgeous, pouting, puffy, wet pussy, waiting for me to enter it. Oh my fucking God, give me strength. I kneeled my way back, away from temptation, grabbed Mom’s legs and pulled them straight to make her pussy fall onto the bed. For extra measure, I pushed her legs closed.
Whew! That was a close call. But what to do now? Mom expected Dad to fuck her. I couldn’t leave her getting turned down like that, I had to do something he might want more.
On her face! Dad liked to spew his spunk on a woman’s face. Mom must know that.
I grabbed Mom’s legs and yanked her lower on the bed, then pulled her feet around to the side. There, I twisted her feet until Mom rolled over onto her back, then walked around to the other side of the bed behind her head. I grabbed her arms and positioned her to get her neck on the edge with her head tipping just over. Mom smiled. She knew what was coming.
The sleeping mask had ridden up on Mom’s face but not enough so she could see under it. Mom raised her hand and pulled it back into place and I realized how close I had come to total disaster. I sighed in relief and Mom smiled again, reading the sound as eager anticipation. She opened her mouth.
And I filled it.
I should have known, should have prepared myself: the sensations almost knocked me off my feet. I would have fallen had my knees not hit the edge of the bed. As it was, my cock simply slid deep into Mom’s mouth on the first thrust whereas I had meant to introduce myself gently. After regaining my balance, I pulled back and barely stopped myself from saying, ‘sorry.’
I gently massaged Mom’s throat, worried I might have hurt her but she took hold of my rod in her delicate fingers and pulled me deep into her mouth, right to the back, and into her throat. I groaned as I both saw and felt my cock in Mom’s throat. It was the strangest and most exciting feeling I had ever experienced. Mom tilted her head further over the edge of the bed, straightening her neck and making the presence of my shaft more obvious.
When I noticed Mom struggling to breathe through her nose, I pulled back, to a popping sound followed by a rush of air as Mom inhaled. I waited until she tugged on my cock before pushing it back in and thought I had reached the pinnacle of bliss when the fingernails of her other hand scratched my balls, sending me even higher. And then she inserted a fingertip into my ass!
What followed was the first, and of course, best blowjob of my life. I kept sliding in and out of Mom’s mouth, slow and deep, and never shoved it in roughly like Dad had down to Mrs. Omed and Jennifer. The very thought of abusing Mom like that turned me off. She was awarding this tremendous gift, unknowingly to me rather than Dad, so how could anyone even contemplate mistreating her?
Somewhere along the line, I pulled the camisole up and grabbed Mom’s tits, massaging the meaty swells and tweaking her nipples, flicking them with my fingers, pinching and rolling them, pulling, then finally leaning over to suck them into my mouth. The whole time, Mom’s finger wiggled, paused, then wiggled again.
When I came, I didn’t pull my cock out to spew all over Mom’s face like I knew Dad would. I kept it firmly plugged into Mom’s mouth and watched her throat swell and contract repeatedly as she took every spurt.
I hated to go when I was done but knew I had to. I wanted to lie down on the bed and wrap my arms around her. As I dressed in my room an emptiness came over me. Yes, it was exciting to shove my whole hand up Mom’s pussy; yes, it was incredible to take her ass; and yes, it was mind-blowing to blow my wad down her throat; but what I wanted to do right then was kiss her and hold her in my arms.
Crawling out the window, it struck me that I really loved my mother and always had. I had simply discovered a new aspect of her, one that I wanted to have all to myself. As I walked back to the car, dark thoughts filled my mind, about my father.
I didn’t want anything to do with the prick anymore. He was a selfish asshole and I didn’t want to be anything like him. Why had I done that to Mom? Why had I fisted her, taken her in the ass? Pounded her throat? Why?
I thought about Mom until I fell asleep but didn’t masturbate. Instead, I cried, ashamed of myself.
- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -
As usual, Mom was super attentive to Dad the next morning while treating me the same as usual. I was jealous. It was me who was the architect of her newfound zest for life, so it should be me she was dressing for, me who should be the target of her perfume, and me who should be the reason she spent so much time in the bathroom doing her make-up and softening her skin in a bubble bath.
Dad didn’t even notice the extra work she put into his breakfast and dinners and the sad part was that he wasn’t acting, he simply didn’t notice, yet I’m sure Mom thought it was all part of their strange sexual game. He had neglected her for so long she was desperate for his attention. What Dad had said to Mrs. Omed was probably true, that Mom was too straight to satisfy him in the sack, but that was years ago and now, after years of being discounted, she would do anything for him in bed, or out. She needed to be loved.
That thought triggered a startling realization. I knew that Mom thought it was Dad participating in the mystery visitor game but what I hadn’t known until now was that it had just begun, otherwise Dad would know how much she was willing to do, or take.
The game had to stop. Even if Mom didn’t find out the truth about me, she would learn the truth about Dad: he hadn’t rediscovered his love for her as she thought; she would just be another receptacle for him to use. And I didn’t want him using her. After seeing him with two women, I don’t think it was in my father to love a woman. Want one, yes, but not love. I had to do something to protect Mom, to shield her from this inevitable discovery.
My mind was dwelling on what I could possibly do when I noticed Mom looking at me strangely during lunch. She appeared to be avoiding making eye contact with me but when she didn’t know I was aware she peered at me with an odd expression on her face. I first noticed this when I saw Mom’s reflection in the glass door on the china cabinet but it happened several more times that afternoon. It was very disconcerting.
What had happened between breakfast and lunch to cause this strange attention?
Dad came home for dinner, which was unusual for him on a Friday night. We ate dinner in silence and I had the distinct feeling that Mom was looking at me every time I looked down at my plate. I looked down often to avoid making uncomfortable eye contact. After dinner, I excused myself and went upstairs but I crept down the hall and laid on the carpet near the top of the stairs, like I had done when I was a kid to listen to my parents discussing my report cards.
“So what was it you wanted to talk to me about?”
“Oh, nothing. Something came up this morning that worried me but it’s nothing, just silly woman stuff. Don’t worry about it.”
“Damn it, Lisa. I’m busy down at the store. You made this sound so important, that’s why I came home for dinner.”
“I know dear, but I, you know, it’s nothing really. I just was worried, that’s all.”
“Well what was it, for Christ’s sake? I’m here now.”
“Come on, spit it out.”
“Well, I was talking to Alice, and she said she was at the store last night…”
My heart sank into my stomach, even lying down. This was it. I wanted to get up and run but I couldn’t tear myself away from the terrible scene below, the one that would write my epitaph.
“Well, Robbie told me he was going to help you down at the store starting tonight…”
“I don’t need his help. His heart isn’t in it and that’s not good for the staff to see.”
“Well, anyway, I thought it might be nice, you’re working so hard lately and all, so…”
“That’s right. I am busy and I don’t have time to find things for Robbie to do.”
I sighed in relief. This was all it was about? Of course Dad didn’t want me around. It was too bad Mom found that out before I got started with my new helping act but it wasn’t really a problem, it just spelled the end of my planned game nights and afternoons. The decision to quit had been made for me now, and I felt kind of relieved. No more taking advantage of Mom.
“I see. Alright, well, I just thought it would be nice…”
“Yes, yes, but what the hell has this got to do with Alice?”
“Oh, well Robbie told me he was going down to the store last night but I was talking to Alice this morning…”
Dad silently interrupted Mom, waving his hand in a rolling circle, indicating she should get on with it. I didn’t like the sound of this. My heart began descending into the pit of my stomach again.
“…so Alice said she was in the store last night and Robbie wasn’t there.”
Dad looked exasperated. “So? Maybe he changed his mind and went out with his friends.”
“Well, Alice said you were there.” Mom sounded very troubled. Her voice even cracked as she said this but Dad didn’t notice. In fairness, why should Alice’s discovery of him in the store be important?
“Yes, I saw her but I didn’t have time to talk with her. Is that what this is about, I didn’t have time to talk with one of your friends?” Dad held his hands out in a ‘so what’ expression. “That’s it. Alice didn’t see Robbie but she saw me and I didn’t talk with her? Woopdie do.”
“Another thing, Lisa. Rob is eighteen. You should stop calling him Robbie. He’s almost a man and he can go out at nights without telling his Mommy where he’s going. He was probably just having a beer with his friends and told you he was going to the store so you wouldn’t question him. Jesus.”
Dad got up.
“I’ve got to get back to work. I’ll be later because of this.”
“I’m sorry dear. I guess it just rattled me because…because Robbie lied to me.”
“Don’t be hard on the boy. It was just a little lie, Lisa.”
“I suppose so.”
Dad gave Mom a peck on the cheek. “Don’t wait up for me.”
“I won’t dear.”
Dad left and I worked my way back to my room.
Shit, shit and double shit!
Dad didn’t have a clue what was going on but Mom must now suspect me, otherwise why would her voice have cracked like that? Wait, just wait. Of course she’s upset. Someone had been fucking her, someone pretending to be Dad, but why should that mean it was me? Why would she suspect her own son, for fuck’s sake?
Because you said you’d be out, and she knows that at least one time, you lied about it.
Well, yeah. But if it doesn’t happen again, then there’s no proof. And anyway, Dad supplied the answer for me. I’ll just admit I went out to drink with my friends.
That’s it then.
Finally, you’ve come to your senses.
- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -
It’s hard to believe I had come so close to discovery but gotten away with it. For the next week I thanked my lucky stars. I didn’t even go down to the store to watch Dad with Mrs. Omed or Jennifer. Partly, I didn’t want to get caught and partly I just wasn’t interested in watching Dad abuse women that way, whether they seemed to like it or not. I thought I wanted was disgusting to force a woman to do one’s will.
By the second week, I wasn’t so pleased. I was sure Mom suspected me. She kept looking at me with that weird expression on her face. I had become adept at catching her looking at me in various reflective surfaces about the house. The strange thing was, even though Mom knew Dad wasn’t visiting her and really was ignoring like always, she continued to dress nicely and do her make-up. That was a plus anyway; Mom seemed to have been permanently lifted from her depression. Maybe it had all been worth it after all.
But the strange looks continued but one day I caught Mom looking with a different expression on her face. It was softer and no longer angry, more curious than horrified, and I found that more disconcerting. What did it mean?
Despite Mom’s continued care with her appearance, I had been careful not to compliment her or even mention anything about the way she dressed or looked. Mom must have missed it because she began specifically asking me about this or that piece of clothing, which shoes I thought would go better with a certain dress, whether her lipstick was the right color, and whether or not I liked her hair which had now grown almost long enough to touch her shoulders. Mom was continually drawing my attention to her and, though it made me nervous at first, I grew to like it. Soon, I was making unsolicited complimentary remarks about Mom’s appearance. One day, while we were sitting on the couch waiting for Dad to come home for supper, I complimented Mom on her new shoes.
“You always did notice my feet, even when you were little.”
The comment startled me so I queried her for more detail.
“I always liked your feet?”
“Yes,” Mom laughed. “When you were little, you used to play with them.”
“Yes. First you were fascinated that I painted my toenails and you wanted to have yours painted too. You were quite particular about the colors. Don’t you remember me telling you not to let your Dad see?”
I shook my head.
“Then you just liked to play with my feet. You would rub them for ages.”
I thought about how I had kissed Mom’s toes and licked the bottom of her soles. Had I given myself away somehow even before Alice visited the store? Had Mom sent Alice to the store to see if I was there, looking for corroboration of already developed suspicions? Was she trying to trap me now?
“I don’t remember that Mom.”
Mom stretched her leg out toward me and put her foot on the couch.
“Tell me if you like the color.”
I looked at Mom’s blue shoe.
“Yeah, it’s okay.”
“Not the shoe, silly. My toenails.”
“I can’t see them.”
“Well, take my shoe off.”
Mom wiggled her foot.
Reluctantly, afraid of somehow giving myself away, I pulled the shoe off Mom’s foot. Her toenails were painted a color somewhere between orange and red.
“No, I don’t like the color.”
Mom looked disappointed.
“Really? That was your favorite color when you were little.”
Just then, Dad’s car pulled into the driveway and Mom pulled her foot away. She leaned down and put the shoe back on her foot before getting up to greet Dad at the door.
Nothing else was said that day about Mom’s toenails but I couldn’t stop thinking about it and wondering why she had brought up the subject of me liking her feet when I was a kid. It was weird and it made me nervous.
I had a hard time getting to sleep that night. I had been deathly afraid if Mom’s suspicions were confirmed in her mind that I would be kicked out of the house and be disowned. Now, I was scared that her suspicions had been confirmed and nothing bad was going to happen to me, and that Mom might in fact have been flattered if not pleased by the attention. Could this be?
Although the prospect of Mom being pleased had its obvious rewards, it was scary new territory. It was one thing to sneak up on Mom from behind under the protection of anonymity, but quite another to look her honestly in the face with my desires.
I managed to get to sleep but only after convincing myself that Mom had only been regarding me with strange looks because I had been complimenting her and had then ceased. She probably believed, I reasoned, that I had noticed her buoyant mood, revived looks, and renewed attention to Dad, without observing anything that would motivate such a change. Therefore, I must suspect her of having an affair. In fact, hadn’t I provide opportunities by making it clear, perhaps overly so, that I would be gone for hours on end in the afternoons and evenings? Maybe Mom thought I was spying on her to confirm my own suspicions and had in fact witnessed a visit by her mysterious lover. Maybe she even thought I was jealous.
That was it. My near incestuous, at least technically in my mind, indiscretion was still undiscovered. I was safe.
- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -
Mom went shopping the next day and came home with a ton of stuff including skirts, blouses, dresses, pants, shoes, and under things. I thought she was being kind of obvious but then, given Dad and I didn’t get along, and the fact that I hadn’t said anything, why should she worry?
Mom went upstairs with most of her stuff and had a long bath, then called me to ask if I could bring up some bags she had forgotten to take upstairs. When I entered her bedroom, she was sitting on her bed, wearing a terry cloth robe, and had her feet on a towel spread over the covers with spacers between her toes, ready to do her toenails.
“Oh, thanks Rob. Hey while you’re here, help me pick out a nice color for my toes.”
I was stuck. Mom showed me several colors and asked me to pick one. Then, she asked me to stay until it dried a bit to make sure it still looked good. So I sat on the bed and watched Mom paint her toes and looked at her legs which looked so fine fresh out of a hot bath. I kept wondering if she was wearing anything under the fluffy robe and became convinced she wasn’t. I wondered if Mom had brought up the whole feet thing because she wanted to reward me for not spilling the beans on her and what she would think of it if she knew I was thinking about her being naked under her robe.
Although Mom did a perfect job on the first foot, she insisted she had made a mess of it and asked me to do the other one. Although the terry cloth robe was clasped demurely about Mom’s knees, it gapped open under her thighs and I was treated to a wonderful vista for about ten minutes, not to mention the perfumed scent of her freshly washed skin. I found myself wondering how I could reinitiate our afternoon adventures rather than being thankful that they had stopped without me getting caught. Not only did I get a boner, my skin tingled now that I was convinced Mom was naked under a robe in such close proximity to me.
Mom’s new blouses were form fitting affairs that were conservative in style but emphasized the feminine nature of her figure. The skirt she put on was heavily pleated and accented the sway of her hips when she walked. The outfit personified muted sexuality.
It was a Friday night and Dad was only home for a quick dinner. Despite that, I finished eating first and excused myself before heading for my room. I hadn’t quite got to the top of the stairs when I heard Mom asking Dad, rather loudly, if he was coming home early.
“No, we need to start the inventory early so I’ll actually be quite late tonight.”
Yeah right, I thought. Is it Mrs. Omed or Jennifer, or have you started on someone new already?
“You’re sure?” Mom asked. “I went shopping today was going to give you a fashion show.”
Mom knew this would irk Dad because he always wanted her to get her clothes from the store where they could be purchased wholesale but Mom insisted on patronizing other stores with the excuse that would encourage them to reciprocate. The truth was, Mom didn’t like the clothes in our store.
Dad held himself in check and answered in an even tone, “I’m sorry sweetheart, but the inventory has to get done.”
“That’s alright, I understand.”
I had the distinct impression that the whole query had been for my benefit, that Mom was sending a signal to me that she wanted to be alone tonight, and this was confirmed by Mom’s first question after I came back downstairs. She was sitting on the couch watching TV and I sat in Dad’s chair to watch too. For some reason, teenaged rebelliousness no doubt, I wanted to make her specifically ask for time to indulge her dalliance.
“Are you going out tonight, Rob?”
That was another thing. Mom never called me ‘Robbie’ anymore, it was always ‘Rob’ now.
“Uh, I’m not sure. Why?”
“I was just wondering.” There was a long pause, then Mom added, “I think your father might be coming home early so we can spend some time together.” Mom kept her gaze fixed on the TV.
Even without overhearing her earlier conversation with Dad, I would have been able to tell Mom was lying. I didn’t say anything more because I was thinking about how lousy Mom was at having an affair and she spoke before I could respond.
“I guess you can have the TV then because I think I’ll go upstairs and read until your father comes home.”
Mom got up and handed me the remote, then started for the stairs.
“Yes?” She turned around.
“I think maybe I will go out. Do you mind?”
Mom smiled. “No, not at all. Will you be late?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Okay dear. Then I’ll see you in the morning.”
Mom came back and leaned over to give me a kiss on the forehead and I started to react the instant her jostling blouse hung in front of my face. I turned the TV off before Mom got to the top of the stairs so Mom would know I was leaving right away. I left shortly after and drove to my usual parking spot but sat there for almost an hour, thinking.
So Mom had figured out that Dad wasn’t her surprise lover but she didn’t know who it really was. How could she? Yet, she was still willing, even eager, to experience another visit. How did she know ‘he’ would come tonight? Did she suspect another merchant that knew her and Dad, or at least, someone who worked downtown and would know when Dad was working? It couldn’t be someone from the store because Dad was the only male there but maybe it was someone’s husband. Sure, maybe she knew about Dad’s indiscretions and thought an injured husband was getting back at him.
I was quite eager when I crawled through my bedroom window and stripped off my clothes. I was now confident that I wasn’t under suspicion. The hallway was dark and the downstairs lights were off too. Mom must have gone down after I left and turned them off. I crept down the hall and listened at Mom’s open door. There were no “Mmmmm’s” or DVD porno sounds coming from Mom’s bedroom, only some softly playing classical music. The main light was turned off and the room was lit by the light of a single bedside lamp. Mom was lying on the bed, on top of the covers, dressed in the white terry cloth robe she had worn that afternoon while doing her toenails.
Mom was lying on her back! No camisole and half spread legs, no upturned, ready-for-action ass? She looked like she was ready to confront her secret lover, face to face. I peeked into the room again. Mom looked like she was actually sleeping. Ahhh, she was wearing the sleep mask. That was a good sign. Maybe she wasn’t intending to confront her lover, but was it enough to gamble everything on?
Part of my mind told me to run back to my room but another part, driven by a far less rational engine, told me to get in there and give my mother, the woman I loved, what she needed and deserved.
I chickened out.
That’s why I was so startled when my feet carried me into Mom’s room while my mind was still telling me to run the whole time I came closer and closer to Mom’s bed.
Her toes. I think that’s what made me stay. Mom’s legs, from the knees down anyway, looked like they had been lightly oiled and her toes glistened with a glossy black coating. I stood there, stark naked with my cock already hard and sticking out, and stared at Mom. If I was wrong, the sleeping mask could be swept up on her forehead before I could move a muscle and I would be doomed.
I stepped close to the bed and tentatively touched Mom’s toes. She barely flinched so I knew she was expecting someone, but who? The only way for her to know was to remove the mask. Or was it?
Mom might want sex regardless of who was here and she actually prefer not to know who it was. Maybe she was lying on her back simply because she was tired of taking it from behind, or didn’t want to get it in the ass.
I grazed my fingertips down from Mom`s toes along the top of each foot, around her ankles to the side of her inner heels, and scratched up the center of her soles. I was pleased when Mom turned her feet outward to make it easier for me to touch the bottom of her feet and wiggled to settle herself deeper in the mattress. She gave no indication that she wanted to remove her mask.
I tickled Mom`s feet for a while, then moved up to caress her lower legs. When it was time to move above her knees I thought about opening her legs to make room for me to climb on the bed but changed my mind and crawled up with my knees straddling her legs. Parting Mom’s legs would be an overtly sexual act and I wanted to maintain an air of innocence for a while for the benefit of my blindfolded mother. I was learning that anticipation was a large part of sexual enjoyment, something I don’t think my father yet knew.
I fluttered my fingers over Mom’s lower thighs as delicately as I could. As I moved higher, the front of the robe parted, exposing more and more of her upper legs. When I reached the thicker part of Mom’s thighs, my fingers couldn’t progress but Mom smiled and opened her legs enough to allow access. I pushed my open hands between Mom’s legs, caressing the softest skin on her body. Sensing the heat from her nearby pussy, my cock hardened into steel and the tip fluttered with sensations as if I was touching it instead of Mom’s inner thighs.
Mom wasn’t wearing any panties and I noticed that her pussy had been completely shaved. I reversed my hands and grazed the top of my fingernails near the sides of Mom’s bald pussy and then traced the crease leading to her hips, pushing the robe apart before me. The robe was hindered by the belt so I undid the knot holding it and parted the robe to reveal Mom’s bare breasts. Her nipples were trembling with more excitement than her slightly enhanced breath indicated she was experiencing.
Taking each between the finger and thumb of each hand, I stretched my knees out behind me and lowered my face until I was able to suck Mom’s pubic lips into my mouth. My tongue found her groove and plowed up through her slit, wiggling from side to side on the backswing. I lapped through Mom’s slit for several minutes, remembering to pull lightly on her nipples. Gradually, Mom’s responses to my mouth increased in intensity and when the tip of my tongue found her inner hole on a gentle upswing of her hips, I pushed it deep inside.
“Ohhhhhhh Godddd!” Mom cried, twisting her hips and lunging against my face.
I teased Mom for ages with my lips and tongue. I had watched many porno flicks on the Internet and noticed that the actors only licked a woman for a few minutes before climbing aboard to satisfy themselves. Instead, I took Mom through to a complete orgasm and for the first time experienced the joy of an ecstatic woman clutching my head and uncontrollably grinding her pussy on my face, a woman totally abandoned to an all-consuming orgasm.
After Mom settled back into the bed, I crawled atop her body and kissed her full on the lips. Within seconds, we were locked in the most intense necking session I had ever experienced. Mom showed me what kissing was all about.
I was so engrossed that I didn’t realize until the act was accomplished that Mom’s arms had curled about my neck, her legs were wrapped around my waist, and her heels were digging into my ass. My cock skidded repeatedly over Mom’s wet pussy and, with a deft movement of her hips, the head slipped inside Mom’s pussy.
“Make love to me,” Mom whispered as soon as my mouth pulled away from hers.
I panicked and tried to pull away but Mom, legs tightening and feet pressing into my ass, lifted herself up with me and my action only served to deepen the penetration of my cock into its maternal home. The sensation was exquisite. Her walls molded to my shaft and slid past it, a pulsing coat of moist heat.
“Love me, baby,” Mom cried.
Deeper, deeper, until I was all the way in and I felt Mom’s pussy lips pressing against my pelvis, gripping the root of my incredibly hard cock.
“Ohhhhhh baby, you’re so big. I need it, I need you. Fuck me, please fuck me.”
Mom’s hips were moving, humping up against my weight, forcing me even deeper within her womb. Her hand was moving through my hair while the other scratched my back and her arms held me so tight there was little choice but to do what she said.
“Ohhhh yeah, fuck me, baby,” Mom whimpered.
I gave in. My hips started moving, succumbing to her urgency and superseding it with my own, driving her harder and harder.
“Oh yes, do it hard,” Mom urged. “I love it, love it.”
I lost myself within her, throwing off all constraint in a frenzied fuck, pounding and pounding, amazed that I wasn’t coming, thrusting harder and harder, wondering why she wasn’t complaining and trying to slow me down instead of urging me on, faster and faster, whispering in my ear, saying nothing, just moaning and grunting with me.
When I finally came, Mom lowered her legs and locked them around the back of my thighs. As I strained my muscles, flexing my body against hers, still grunting my bliss and pouring my liquid pleasure within her, Mom ensured that not a single drop escaped capture.
“Fill me baby,” she rasped several times in quick succession.
We enjoyed a long, languid kiss when I had recaptured my breath and then I pulled away, holding her hands in mine until they slipped away. I backed out of the room, watching Mom, less afraid of her removing the mask than not wanting to tear my eyes away from her sated body until the last moment.
- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -
The next morning Mom filled my plate with pancakes before serving Dad and my glass was filled with juice before his coffee was served. Dad didn’t notice but I did. Mom didn’t speak to me any differently, nor were her interactions abnormal, other than serving me first. Yet, there was something that made me hyper aware of her. It was a sexual awareness so intense it felt like a physical presence but Mom hadn’t made any overt movements nor did she strike any suggestive poses. If a camera had recorded the scene, I’m sure there would have been no visual evidence of inappropriate behavior. But something had triggered my awareness and, even though I couldn’t put my finger on it, I knew it was there. Since I couldn’t point to anything specific, I assumed it was simply a side-effect of the afterglow from Mom’s visit the previous evening and possibly her subliminal appreciation of my part in making it happen, that is, making myself scarce.
After Dad left Mom went upstairs. Fifteen minutes later she was back, wearing a different outfit. Though subdued, it modeled her figure very well and its rather conservative lines heightened rather than diminished her sexuality. I knew then that Mom knew I was aware that she was having an affair and that even though my tacit support wasn’t openly acknowledged, it was appreciated. It was interesting that the way Mom chose to show her appreciation was to dress nicely, even seductively, for me. Besides looking physically attractive, Mom appeared fresh-faced, alive, and full of zest.
“You look very nice, Mom. Are you going somewhere special?”
“Just out with some friends for lunch and a little shopping.”
“Oh. Well, have a good time.”
“I will, and speaking of that, are you going out again tonight?”
I didn’t hesitate, “Yes,” I replied.
“Oh, that’s too bad. I was hoping you could help your father so he could get away to come home earlier tonight.”
She smiled. “Not to worry. He might be able to get away. He said he’d try anyway.”
That night, after our first fuck, which I tried to make tender and gentle, and failed again due to Mom’s urging, I pushed her legs up and bent then back onto her chest before entering her for a second fuck. I straddled her haunches and dug in deep, triggering an answering grunt that wasn’t entirely unappreciative.
“Oohhh, you’re so big tonight,” she cooed.
I loved that Mom said that, and I loved the way her body bounced off the bed after we had struck our rhythm, impaling her pussy upon my cock, and I loved the sound of our thighs slapping so noisily together they nearly drowned out our love sounds.
The third fuck was slow and gentle, a fuck both intense and restrained, full of tender touches and kissing, a fuck that really was making love and, when I finally reached orgasm, emptying my milk into Mom’s womb was an extended affair.
That was probably the best Saturday night of my life.
- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -
The next day was Sunday so there was no opportunity substitute myself for a supposed lover’s visit since the store was closed. However, Mom was especially attentive to me all morning and when she asked me to drive her to the mall to do some shopping I agreed right away although there wasn’t anything wrong with her car. In fact, we drove there in it.
I had thought Mom was going grocery shopping and wanted help carrying the bags so when she drove past the grocery store I thought she just wanted to get the food last, which made sense. Mom browsed through a ton of stores. Normally, I would have been quite impatient but I simply tagged along, happy to be with her. I had ample opportunity, toddling along behind, to watch Mom’s supple figure moving enticingly under her summer dress.
Mom browsed through several clothing stores but only tried on two things, a brown dress and a navy blue skirt. She emerged from the dressing room in the dress to check herself out in the mirror, preened about without comment and returned, presumably to try on the skirt next. A minute later, Mom called me to the fitting room door and, after asking if anyone was out there but me and hearing my negative reply, she opened the door.
“What do you think? Is it nice?”
Mom had replaced the dress with the navy blue skirt and was wearing only a bra on top. I guess since Mom had worn a dress into the store, she couldn’t come out to see what it looked like in the mirror. I was tongue-tied but Mom ignored my predicament, twisting her hips this way and that to model the skirt.
“How does it hang?” she asked, turning half around.
Recovering quickly, I gave serious attention to the way the skirt hung over Mom’s behind and said it looked great.
“Do you think I should get it?”
Mom closed the door. She bought the skirt but not the dress and we continued shopping. The funny thing was, although the incident could be seen as provocative it could also be interpreted as completely innocent. I had seen Mom in her bra before and had certainly seen her often in two-piece bathing suits. However, given what had been going on in our house, I interpreted the incident as anything but innocent which both thrilled and unnerved me. It added weight to my theory that Mom’s interludes had put her in a heightened state of sexuality and thus she hadn’t given a second thought to the fact that she wasn’t wearing a blouse when she asked me about the skirt. It was, in fact, an innocent act.
My thoughts, however, were anything but. I racked my brain for an excuse to be with Mom that night but came up empty. I may have been distracted by the expanse of crossed leg that Mom managed to display as sipped her coffee when we stopped to have a snack. I was the only one able to witness the show except for the one man who walked by us to use the washroom. He made it quite obvious that turning his head was well worth the effort. Mom didn’t look at him but smiled at me when he looked at her. It sent my insides aflutter that Mom knew what she was doing, was aware of the effect it had on the man, and wasn’t bothered that I witnessed it. Nor did she cover up her legs then or afterwards.
We visited a few more stores and then returned to the car. Mom waited for me to open the door for her instead of simply unlocking it remotely with the key chain. I clued in after a few seconds and ran around to let her in and was glad I did when she treated me to a wonderful look at her thighs as she dipped to get into the car. Again, I asked myself if that was done on purpose or if it was simply unavoidable when getting into a car in a tight dress. I hadn’t been on that side of the car when we left the house, so I didn’t know. I drove around to the grocery store but Mom said she was tired of shopping and wanted to go home.
That night, Mom wore her new skirt. We sat for quite a while watching TV while Dad read before Mom switched to a book too. Another long period went by before Mom changed the position of her legs and folded them underneath herself, stretching her left foot out on the couch toward me. Even though I was into one of my favorite shows, I was aware of its proximity. It stopped just short of my leg but a moment or two later, Mom’s foot poked me just above the knee. I reached out to still her annoying foot.
I didn’t intend to rub her foot and wasn’t aware of quite when I started. I happened to notice during a commercial when I looked down to see my fingers wrapped around the top of Mom’s foot and my thumb rubbing her instep in a small circle. As I watched, my thumb began scratching a firmer path the length of Mom’s foot. This continued for several minutes until Mom changed pages and lifted the book from her lap as she shifted her weight to make herself more comfortable. Although she pulled her foot away to do this, it soon returned and shortly thereafter, I resumed my deliberate massage of her sole.
Mom’s toes started scratching the side of my leg. Just once at first and then again a minute later. I kept rubbing her foot and her toes scratched my leg more often. After a bit, I looked at Mom, thinking she might be trying to catch my attention without saying anything, but she was intently focused on her book. Mine, however, became riveted on Mom’s skirt, or rather, where it should have been. The wide hem of the pleated skirt had swept up onto Mom’s leg, exposing almost the entire expanse of the underside of her thigh though the top, visible from Dad’s perspective, was properly covered.
I couldn’t believe it. Mom’s toes scratched my leg again and I was convinced she had both uncovered her thigh and poked me on purpose but the way she continued reading, oblivious of all around her, produced doubts and I became convinced it was simply another innocent accident, just like the incident in the dressing room. I extended the reach of my thumb to tickle the underside of Mom’s toes and she shifted her leg slightly so that her thigh twisted up, exposing even more leg and even providing a glimpse of her panties.
It must have been fifteen minutes later that I became aware of Mom looking at me. I raised my eyes to meet hers, too far gone to be self-conscious about being caught in my obvious adoration. Mom was smiling, not a teasing smile, but one that was faint and hard to interpret.
“Would you like some tea and cookies for a snack?”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
Mom’s smile widened and she put her book on the arm of the couch. As she got up the skirt fell over her legs and I was left wondering if the whole incident had even happened, a raging boner the only evidence that it really had. Nothing else happened that night. When Mom returned with tea and snacks, she didn’t lift her foot back onto the couch and, consequently, there was no further display of her leg.
The next day Mom was less attentive to me, switching her appreciation to Dad who arrived downstairs sooner than me. This made me think that I was right in believing her previous consideration was the result of heightened sexual awareness generated from her lover’s visits, that the attention to me or to Dad was the result of guilt, and the target was simply whoever was nearest at the time.
That morning I helped Mom with the grocery shopping and was treated to a leggy display both getting in and out of the car. After lunch at home I told Mom I had to go out for the afternoon. I parked the car in the usual place and sneaked into my room, undressed, and crept down the hall to peek into Mom’s room.
She was lying on her back again but this time was naked except for the sleeping mask. Approaching confidently without fear that Mom would open her eyes, I knelt on the floor at the end of the bed. There, I breathed quietly on the soles of Mom’s feet for a couple of minutes. Her breath immediately became more shallow, as if anticipating an imminent action and her toes, now painted in a coral color, curled in appreciation. Delicately, I stretched out my tongue and traced the sole of her right foot from heel to toes and then ran the tip sideways along the crease at the base of her toes.
Knowing Mom expected me to repeat the caress on the other foot, I stood, leaned over, and kissed the inside of Mom’s left leg just below the knee. She moved her knees apart in surprise and I used the opportunity to shift her feet wider apart. Lowering my face close to her pelvis, I breathed on Mom’s pussy the same way I had breathed on her foot.
This time, I made Mom wait longer before flicking my tongue out to find and trace the groove between her lips, then flicked sideways several times before piercing through to her inner sanctum. Mom opened her legs wider in anticipation of an imminent munching episode but instead I crawled over her and held myself in push-up ready stance, hovering over the full length of Mom’s body.
I lowered myself until my chest was brushing Mom’s nipples and arched my back so the tip of my cock dangled onto her mound. Holding myself there was difficult but Mom eventually realized I was waiting for her to react. Lifting her ass, Mom searched for and found my cock with her open slit and pushed until the head slipped into her cunt.
Still, I held my ground. Slowly, Mom starting fucking, pushing her hips up until my entire shaft was embedded within her. I held my ground and Mom started flexing her hips up and down in a steady rhythm. Her hands soon flattened under her ass, palms up, to assist her lift. We fucked like that until we were both gasping with pleasure and Mom additionally with effort.
At last, I took pity on her, scooped her legs up by threading my elbows under her knees and pushed them back onto her chest, then started a very serious, pounding fuck. Mom was very wet and the lovely sound of wet, slapping flesh filled the room. When I came, I remained deep within Mom’s pussy and, for her part, she twisted around until she wrung every drop out of me. I collapsed on top of her and lay still, panting, until I could breathe normally. We fucked again about half an hour later and then I left.
Every day that week, I visited Mom in the afternoon for similar fucks and twice, on Thursday and Friday, I also visited her at night, taking her twice from behind. I wasn’t so surprised by my stamina, having masturbated nightly for years, but I was by Mom’s. I read up on it on the Internet and found that it wasn’t abnormal for a mature woman to be capable of having sex daily, especially if she hadn’t been very active for a long period.
Strangely, Mom reverted to not paying much attention to me, or to Dad, and the foot game was not re-enacted.
- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -
On Saturday afternoon, I visited Mom again. I hadn’t expected to have the opportunity until the evening but Mom took the lead.
“I’m feeling a little tired, Rob. I think I’ll go upstairs for a nap,” she announced.
“Oh, sure, okay Mom,” I responded.
Mom turned half way up the stairs. “If your father comes home, could let him know I’m having a nap?”
“Uh, I’m going out Mom. Maybe I’ll go down to the store to see if I can help out.”
“Oh. Would you mind leaving him a note then in case he misses you?”
Mom went upstairs and I sat downstairs pondering my options. Clearly, Mom wasn’t expecting Dad and since I had convinced myself that she knew that I knew something was going on, this was her signal that her lover was coming and I should leave.
Could I really wait for a while and slip upstairs for a quickie, again pretending to be her lover? I couldn’t make up my mind but in the end horniness won the day. I opened and closed the door, then sat for another ten minutes. Instead of going through the motions of moving the car and sneaking into my room, I simply opened and closed the door again, then crept up the stairs and peeked into Mom’s bedroom. Sure enough, there she was, nude, lying on her back with legs open and knees already bent and lifted. She was ready to be eaten or fucked and probably in that order.
I continued to my room, doffed my clothes, and returned to the hallway. For some reason, it struck me that I should be using a condom but I hadn’t up to that point, so what was the point? Mom must be taking care of that because she seemed eager to soak up all my jism. She must have some idea of who she thought her lover was, and that he was fixed and therefore probably married and not requiring precautions, because otherwise the consequences were dire.
A sinking feeling overwhelmed me, leaving me light in the head, and I almost fell against the wall. Returning to my bedroom, I found the rubber in the back of my drawer that I had bought a couple of years earlier, unnecessarily of course, for my first date with Margaret Wenton. I put it on, somewhat surprised that it didn’t disintegrate from age. Suitably armed, I turned back toward Mom’s bedroom, intent on completing my mission.
I gave Mom’s feet a damn good licking before dragging my tongue leisurely up her legs. My fingers held her nipples as I sank my tongue deep between her lips and started lapping up her effluent. Throughout all my prior experimentation, I had found that Mom liked to be lapped. I kept it up, eventually used a finger to assist, until Mom reached her first orgasm. I had also found that Mom was more pliable if I first ate her out without hurrying.
Climbing aboard, I crawled over Mom’s chest and pushed my cock into her waiting mouth. Taking my time, I slowly began fucking her face as I adjusted the pillow behind her head to keep it up at a conducive angle. Several times I almost displaced the sleeping mask and once Mom beat me to it to push it back into place. This had happened earlier in the week and as a result I was no longer anxious about getting caught. When I was close to coming, I pulled out of Mom’s mouth and slid down her body. She was already lifting her legs and holding them where it was easy for me to grab and push them onto her chest, rolling her butt up toward me so I could easily enter and pound on her pussy. Mom already knew what I, or ‘her lover’, liked.
About fifteen minutes later, I was finished and had almost recovered my breath when Mom tried to twist around onto her tummy. I lifted my weight so she could move, then settled onto her ass. My cock had embedded itself in her crack and, despite my recent orgasm, began to get interested again. It had been a long time since the one time Mom had let me in her ass. I had begun to think it had been a one-time opportunity but the way she was nudging back at my slowly stiffening cock, I started to hope that maybe it was simply a rare event.
Soon, we were rubbing each other in mini-fuck movements and my cock was definitely hard and ready. I pulled it back until it slid off Mom’s crack and then pushed it into her waiting, very wet pussy. Once inside, I started moving to and fro in very slow thrusts, secure in the knowledge that we both understood this was simply a primer and the big event would be a visit to the dark side. Man, I was so happy I had decided to come upstairs.
That’s when everything changed.
Without breaking the slow rhythm we had settled into, Mom got up onto her elbows—which was easy because I had lifted up to brace myself on my arms and watch my cock moving in and out of Mom—reached under the pillow on the other side of the bed, and pulled out her cell phone. As I watched, stunned, she flipped the phone open at the same time she used her other hand to pull the mask off her head.
I was hovering, braced above Mom, my cock deep in her from behind, and she was selecting a number to call. Amazingly, I didn’t stop fucking her. I don’t know if it was self-preservation, knowing that changing anything would call attention to me, or what. But my cock kept moving slowly in and out.
I recognized the number. She was calling the store!
Shit! Was she calling to check up on me? Why the fuck had I said I was going to the fucking store? Mom shook her head and lifted the phone to her ear. I heard the person answering quite clearly.
“Mr. Horlock, please,” Mom responded.
“Just a moment, Mrs. Horlock.
Mom waited. I kept moving within her, my past flashing before my eyes.
“Yes?” barked my father.
I almost had a heart attack. Dad was obviously on the phone but his voice, so near, made it seem he was physically present, and able to see who was…
“Hello dear. I was just wondering if you wanted steak for dinner or fish?”
“Lisa, I’m very… uh, actually, I’m going to be late again tonight. Sorry.”
“That’s okay dear. Would you like me to keep something warm for you?”
“Uh, no. I’ll get something, have something brought in.”
“Okay dear. Bye.”
“I’m sorry, I’ll make it up to you this weekend.”
“Oh that’s alright dear. Rob will look after me. By now.”
I almost choked on those words and I certainly missed a stroke.
“Bye,” Dad’s voice sounded more distant, as if he was already hanging up.
I heard Dad’s chair swivel around, a sound I had become a familiar with, and the phone clattered onto the receiver on his desk. Mom put her cell phone on the bed but left it open. I could hear sounds coming from the phone. Dad had evidently not hung up the phone properly and the clatter I’d heard was likely it falling off the cradle. However, Dad must have already turned around in his chair because I’m sure he wouldn’t have said what he did next if he knew the line was still open.
“Come on, get your mouth back on it.”
My eyes almost bugged out of my head.
“That’s it baby. See, you’re getting the hang of it. Take it deep…hold it, hold it…”
There was a pop and a loud gasping for air.
“Yeah baby. I can’t give you Christmas off but you can have the whole week after Thanksgiving.”
There was a muffled, unintelligible sound.
“I thought you’d like that. I usually only let the Moms have Thanksgiving off but you do this so well…yeah, hold it, hold it, hold it, fantastic…oh yeah!”
There was a louder popping sound and a more desperate grasp for air. Dad had found someone new.
Mom lowered her head onto the mattress and reached behind herself. She inched forward, dislodging herself from my cock and pulled her cheeks apart with both hands. I stared at the little whole, open to the size of a penny, already greased and ready to go.
Mom had planned this!
I pushed the tip of my cock into Mom’s well-lubed bunghole and pushed. It sank inside easily but I waited for her ass to accommodate my bulk anyway. While listening to Dad getting his cock sucked, I slowly pushed my throbbing shaft into Mom’s asshole. Her hands had returned to press palm down beside her shoulders and she turned to face the open cell phone just as I reached full depth. At that moment, Mom spoke directly at her phone in full voice as if I was across the room.
“I never let your father in my ass, so fuck it good.”
There was no response from the cell phone other than the sound of Dad getting blown. Mom laughed and I started moving slowly in and out. I loved being in her tight ass but this was incredible. What a feeling, listening to Dad getting blown, watching my Mom catching him red-handed while she broadcast letting someone taking her in the ass. Could it get better than that?
Yes, actually it could. That someone was me, his son, her son, and she had obviously known all along it was me. Her laugh had relieved the shock of her revelation, that and the feel of her ass pulling on my cock. I did my best to make this the best fuck Mom had ever had. I don’t know if I succeeded—it sounded like I didn’t do too bad—but I hoped I did well enough.
A little fear niggled at my brain, that I wouldn’t be able to keep Mom interested without the excitement of not knowing who was doing her, but I would have to worry about that later. Right now, there was a serious ass underneath me begging for more and Mom was moaning loudly, pulling the pillow over her head, and ignoring the phone like it didn’t matter anymore. She was mine.
After we had finished, we showered together and went downstairs for dinner. Mom cooked a steak which we ate with baked potatoes and brussel sprouts, topped with a nice Merlot. We didn’t leave anything for Dad. After dinner, we settled in to watch a movie together, cuddling on the couch. Just after the movie started Mom turned to me.
“Did you really think, Robert, that I would believe your father could take me three times in one night?”
She laughed, probably because she could see in my face that the thought that he couldn’t hadn’t occurred to me, as it wouldn’t to any teenager. I imagine that I also looked like I thought I was still in trouble.
“Don’t worry, I’m hardly going to tell your father, now am I, and anyway, isn’t it obvious he never listens to me?”
We had a good belly laugh at that one. Sitting close together as we were, the laughter initiated tremors and that started things going again. We went upstairs.
- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -
On Monday, I had sex with Mom as soon as Dad was out the door. He was still in the driveway when I lifted her skirt and entered her from behind, unable to slip her panties aside because she wasn’t wearing any. The rest of that week taught me something new: older women can be very, very horny, and quite insatiable.
Our relationship grew from that point on and it was almost as if she and I were the couple and Dad was the third party. Dad continued spending most of his time at the store which left lots of time for Mom and I to be together, becoming more in tune with each other every day, and not just sexually. We often drove to the next town where we could be together without being recognized, if not unnoticed because of our age disparity. Life was good.
Then one of the women at the store quit and brought forth a complaint against Dad. At first, he weathered it by denigrating her and accusing her of theft but then a former employee added her own complaint, and another current employee joined the chorus, and then another. The publicity wrought a drop in sales with each new complaint and the legal bills, though initially nominal, threatened to become onerous.
Dad pretended there wasn’t a problem and acted as if he was completely innocent, expressing anger that his generosity as an employer was met with such ingratitude. He was in complete denial and refused to believe the drop in sales was in any way related to the issue because ‘his customers’ would know the accusations were false. In the end, he handled the problem in his own way: he had a stroke, and that changed everything.
At first, it was an emotional shock because, despite his self-serving, abusive behavior he was still my father. Moreover, his constant presence in the house made it difficult for Mom and I to be together but that eventually changed. Since Dad seemed to be unaware of his surroundings, I took his place in Mom’s bed and we put him in my room. If he was downstairs—we had a lift installed to let a wheelchair traverse the stairs—and the mood struck us, we simply wheeled him into another room. Dad wasn’t capable of telling anyone even if he was aware and, let’s face it, he wasn’t exactly an innocent bystander. Once, we got carried away before wheeling Dad away and something about him convinced me that he knew what was happening but couldn’t respond. Fuck him.
Through this three month period the store was managed by Mrs. Omed but despite her best efforts sales continued to slide and layoffs were imminent. In addition, the legal problems were steadily progressing and were definitely not in our favor. Something had to be done.
I’ve always been fascinated with my 48 year old mother for as long as I can remember.
She’s someone who prides herself on being the pillar of the community. In the middle-class suburban neighborhood where we live, my mother has always been actively involved in PTA meetings, charity events, and other community programs. She’s prim and proper in every since of the word, and is always going out of her way to present herself in only the most positive light.
We’ve always been close, and her career as an English teacher has allowed us to become even closer, as we were able to spend much of our summers and winters at home together. And in time, that eventually lead to something more…
Mom’s Incest Fantasy
‘Finally!’ I thought to myself. I had just finished my last final exam for the college semester and it felt like a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders. And as it just so happened, a small snow storm had rolled in later that morning, meaning that I would be stuck at home for the rest of the day. My dad was out of town on an important business trip, so it looked like me and my mom would have plenty of time together once again since both of our winter vacations had already begun.
I arrived home later that morning to the sight of my mother on the computer next to the lit fireplace in the living room. She sat on the floor using her laptop which rested on a table. She looked dignified and elegant the way her long brown hair was neatly tied in a ponytail with her glasses on. She was barefoot, still wearing her silk pajamas, and had a hot cup of coffee right next to her.
“Well you’re home early,” she said, turning her attention towards me.
“Yeah. I only had one final this morning, and it’s not exactly easy to get around with all that snow outside,” I replied.
“Oh, you’re right. You’ll have to excuse me for not realizing the sudden snow fall, my mind is somewhere else at the moment.”
“So what are you up to?” I asked. “You look like you’ve got a nice set up over there.”
“I’m just finishing up some work for school,” she said, almost stammering at her words over such a simple question, as if she was hiding something.
“I’ve never seen a school teacher look so elegant and relaxed doing school work,” I replied jokingly.
She closed the top of her computer and stood up and walked towards me.
“By the way,” my mother said. “I’ve already booked a flight for your grandmother to fly in next week for the holidays. Your father doesn’t know about it and he hasn’t seen her in a very long time since she moved back to Europe. So don’t tell him about it when he calls tonight; I want it to be a surprise.”
“That sounds great. I miss having her around. She’s really nice.”
A warm-hearted smile appeared on my mother’s face. “I’m glad you think so because she’ll be sleeping over with us for Christmas and New Years. This is really shaping up to be a fun holiday season for our family.”
***LATE THAT NIGHT***
I turned off all the lights in the house and was heading to bed when I noticed my mother’s computer was left unattended in her bedroom. Her door was slightly open, and I could hear her in the closed bathroom running the water faucet. My curiosity got the better of me as I saw her word processor open and decided to check it out for a moment.
My eyes roamed the screen as fast as I could to get an idea of what she was writing about, seeing words such as ‘father’,'daughter’, ‘love’, ‘kissing’, and ‘sex’. The realization of what I was reading hit me like a ton of bricks; my mother was writing an INCEST story!
I felt shocked and confused. I couldn’t believe that my conservative and respectable mother would ever write such a thing, or even think about anything like that in the first place.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I heard a voice say behind me.
When I quickly turned my body around, there was my mother, with a look of utter horror on her face as she saw that I had discovered her secret hobby.
“Mom…I was just…”
“I owe you an explanation for this,” she said while trying her best to hold a brave face.
“You don’t owe me anything. I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have looked through your personal stuff,” I replied.
“It’s okay,” she sighed. “I need to. We might as well talk about it now and get this over with. Let’s go downstairs and I’ll make us some hot chocolate.”
She slipped on a robe over her pajamas and signaled for me to follow her.
I sat awkwardly by the kitchen counter watching my mom boil a small pot of milk while adding the chocolate mixture. She then poured the hot chocolate in two mugs and added marshmallows on top.
“Here, drink up,” she said as she handed me a mug.
“I haven’t had hot chocolate with marshmallows in a very long time,” I happily pointed out.
She smiled, “I know. That’s why I picked it up from the store the other day. But let’s get to the point; I’m sure you must be surprised by what you saw on my computer.”
“Well, it’s not exactly common to find your mother writing a story about a father and daughter having sex with each other.”
“I have an incest fantasy,” she said bluntly, with a straight face. “There, I said it. You can stop wondering what that was all about now.”
“An incest fantasy?”
She took a deep breath. “Yes. We all have fantasies don’t we? You’re old enough to understand that. I’ll admit that mine is just…different…different than most peoples.”
I was immediately taken aback by my prudish mother’s shocking admission. Hearing her say that she enjoyed fantasizing about incest was more surprising than taking a glimpse of what she wrote. She held a brave face, but it was clear that she had to muster up all the courage she could to do so, and that deep down she was really embarrassed over this.
“It’s actually a lot more common than you think,” I told her to make her feel better, but not admitting that I secretly had the same fantasy about her. “I mean, I definitely understand the appeal when you have two people in a taboo relationship together. You know, the whole ‘forbidden’ thing, while they’re living together and are related.”
“Well, I was hoping to avoid the details, but yes, that’s the part that gets me. I’ve always been drawn to romance and the thought of two people having to overcome barriers to be with each other. And what embodies that more than incest? That’s my intrigue with it, so please don’t think of me as a perverted old lady, or some sexual deviant, or anything weird like that. I’m just a woman with feelings like anyone else.”
“Mom, I would never think such a thing about you. You’re the smartest and classiest woman I’ve ever met.”
“Thank you for saying that…and for making this easy on me,” she replied with a smile. “I’m glad you’re so open about this.”
“Of course. I try to be open about a lot of things.”
Her eyebrows raised, “Thanks again. You’re so much like your father. He adores my erotic writings, and I stayed up late tonight finishing up my latest story so that I could send it to him tomorrow. It’s a great way for him to relieve stress while he’s traveling, plus and it spices up our love life- you’ll understand one day when you get married.”
“That makes perfect sense. So do you think I could read some of your stories?”
“Absolutely not,” she firmly stated. “It’s private and it wasn’t meant for you. Look, us talking about this is one thing, but actually letting you read what I wrote is something else. So let’s just enjoy our drinks and call it night.”
When I got to my room soon after, I knew there was no way I could go to sleep right away after finding out such a revelation about my mother. I still needed to process all that information before bed, and so I decided to surf the net for a while.
Suddenly, I received an email from my mother, which read:
I didn’t mean to be so harsh on you when you asked to read my stories. You’re my son, and sometimes I see you just as my child, and not as a young man. You’ve showed a lot of maturity tonight and maybe I was a little unfair in the way that I talked to you at the end, especially since you were so understanding of me and spared me the humiliation. So, here they are, enjoy…
Below her message was an internet link, and when I clicked it, I was taken to a website with a listing of incest stories written by my mother. Just glancing at the story descriptions and titles, I saw that she had written everything ranging from father/daughter, to my favorite genre of mother/son.
But before I got started reading her erotic stories, I explored the website further and found that they had a forum. And it wasn’t long before I found her profile with her own thread in the Amateur Pic section. My heart was racing. I was possibly one click away from seeing my mother naked for the first time in my life, and that decision wasn’t a hard decision to make.
I opened her thread and was greeted with picture after picture of my mom’s nude body, with her face left out of each image. She struck various poses around her bedroom and around the house. She looked slender and delicate, with a soft tone to her. Her upper body looked thin, with her ribs and collar bone visibly protruding, but her hips and thighs had its womanly curves to them. Her breasts were average sized and they sagged a bit, with light pink nipples on full display. And her pubic hairs were neatly trimmed.
I couldn’t get over how gorgeous my mother looked. I couldn’t believe that after all these years of living with her, and occasionally fantasizing about her, that I really had no idea just how beautiful she really was underneath all her fancy clothes. And by glancing through some of the endless comments left on her thread, many people agreed with me as well.
After taking in the nude images on my mother’s body, I turned my attention back to her incest stories. I lost track of time flipping through page after page of my mom’s beautifully crafted writings. Incest wasn’t just about sex or taboo to her, it was also about love. She understood and conveyed the erotic nature of incest, whether it a story of two sisters having a sexual relationship, or a mother/son duo sharing intimate moments together.
I masturbated as soon as I read the last word of her last story. I thought about all the incestuous thoughts and scenes she had written for people to read online. But most of all, I masturbated to the images of my mother’s naked body for the first time in my life.
***THE NEXT MORNING***
When I headed downstairs for breakfast the next morning, I saw my mother casually sitting in the dining room table reading a magazine, looking prim & proper as always. She was wearing a long silk blouse with a matching robe on. She had prepared a meal for me and it looked as though she had finished eating already.
“Can you believe this weather?” she asked. “The latest report says it’ll be snowing pretty heavily today and tomorrow, so it looks like we’ll be stuck with each other for a while.”
“Well it’s not like we wont have anything to talk about. I stayed up late reading your stories,” I replied with a smile as I sat down across from her.
A slightly embarrassed grin crept over her face. “I figured you would. Did you find anything else interesting?” she asked nervously.
“If you’re talking about the pictures on the forum, I saw those too.”
She sighed, “That’s exactly what I was afraid of. I just remembered the forum pictures after I sent you the link.”
“You’ve got nothing to be ashamed about mom, you’ve got a really beautiful body.”
“Thanks,” she replied. “But still, you’re my son, and it’s bad enough that I even let you read those stories in the first place, let alone you finding out about my exhibitionist side. It’s not exactly normal for you to see me like that you know. I mean, if anyone ever found out that …”
“No one is going to find out, trust me. Your secret is safe with me. But do you mind if I ask you something about your stories since I’ve already read them?”
“At this point, why not?”
“Is everything you wrote based on fantasy, or is some of it real?” I asked. “I noticed that the names and descriptions in one of the stories were a little too familiar…you know…the one about the sisters who ‘experimented’ with each other…”
“Well there’s no point in denying it now,” she said casually. “Yes, that story was written based on your Aunt and I. We were young at the time, college age, and naturally we were curious about certain things. We used to talk about our sexuality a lot with each other because we were really nervous about opening up to other people. Keep in mind that this was decades ago, where two women being intimate together was a lot more taboo- so we played with each other. And now, obviously, she’s happily married to another woman.”
“God, you and Aunt Helen together? I don’t mean to be crude, but that’s so hot,” I replied. “The idea of two sisters having that kind of love and passion for each other is incredibly erotic. I think that’s my favorite story of yours.”
She smiled. “Figures. That story did get a lot of feedback from readers. I mean what’s not to like? You’ve got college girls doing lesbian stuff, and to top it all off, they’re sisters committing incest.”
“Jeez…hearing you talk like that about you and your sister…”
“Am I turning you on?” she asked with a sly grin. “Now don’t tell me that your prudish old mother is getting you going.”
“Mom, you’re not old. And at this point, it’s tough for me not to get turned on by you, especially after hearing you talk like this and seeing your nude pictures last night.”
My mother quickly flashed another broad smile. “Well who would have thought? My own son masturbated to my nude pics and stories. I guess incest must run in our family since everyone in this household seems to love it.”
“Dad too? Do you mean that he just enjoyed reading your stories or…”
“He’s had a incestuous relationship with his own mother when he was around your age,” my mom replied. “The mother/son story about the son who discovers his mother’s naughty pictures is based on your father’s real life experience; and it still goes on to this day on certain occasions. He’s told me never to tell anyone, but it’s something I thought you should know.”
I was taken aback for a moment. Not only did I just find out that my mother had incestuous sex with her sister, but I also just found out that my dad had an even more intimate relationship with his own mother!
My mom reached out on the table and held my hand. “I hope I’m not being too frank here. I’m sure it must be a lot for you to handle, hearing this about your parents. We better leave it at that and change the subject.”
“No,” I replied, squeezing her hand. “I really like hearing about this. And since we’re being honest, last night wasn’t the first time hat I’ve masturbated to you. You’re actually the first woman I’ve ever started masturbating to. I hope you’re not mad, but I felt like I had to get that out there with all of the private stuff you’ve already shared with me.”
She looked utterly speechless for a moment at my revelation.
“Well…I guess that’s perfectly normal for a lot of boys to feel that way about their mother,” she replied, trying to process and justify what I just revealed to her. “I know when I was young, I used to imagine lewd thoughts about my father…or even my mother…taking me, and having their way with me sexually. Even now, I sometimes wish…”
“…how about your son? Have you ever imagined me taking you?”
“Don’t get cute,” she said sternly, but in a playful way. “Come on, finish your breakfast and we’ll continue this conversation in front of the fire place. It’s actually pretty refreshing to get this stuff off my chest with someone who’s as open and receptive to the topic of incest as I am, even if it’s with you. Believe me, none of my closest friends know about this, and they never will.”
I stood up and held onto the soft grip I had on her hand, signaling her to stand up with me, which she did. I led her to near our front door, and had her stand in front of a full length mirror, just like she had described in one of her mother/son incest stories.
Her eyes never left her reflection as I stood behind her and held her. My arms wrapped around her waist, just under her breasts, and I squeezed my arms tightly.
“You didn’t answer my question,” I said in her ear as we both looked at ourselves in the mirror. “Have you ever thought about me having my way with you?”
“….I have…” she meekly whimpered. “When you became a young man, I started having thoughts about you. Explicit thoughts.”
I held her even tighter, letting her feel my growing erection against her rear end.
My lips moved to her ear and I told her, “Mom, I’ve waited so long for this.”
She didn’t react as my hands moved up to gently squeeze her breasts through her blouse. But it was her eyes that gave away her feelings. They became filled with lust and desire as she watched her son caress her womanly parts in the mirror. It wasn’t until I pinched her nipples that she let out a small gasp of pleasure.
As I continued fondling her breast with one hand, I reached beneath her blouse with my other hand rubbed her vagina through her panties. She still didn’t say a word or try to react, but I took her body’s heart rate and breathing as a sign that she wanted me to continue, so I slipped my hand inside her panties to feel her naked crotch. She was slightly hairy, and when I stuck a finger inside, I felt that she was dripping wet.
“Undress me,” she said. “I’ve always wanted to be admired by my son. And I suggest you do before I change my mind about this.”
I obliged, releasing my hands from her body parts and using them to casually pull her robe off her shoulders so that they could fall to the floor. Her face still showed no real reaction as she stood in front of the mirror to watch herself with me behind her. My fingers then moved to the thin straps of her blouse, which hung on her shoulders, and I pulled those off of her as well. Once her blouse fell to the floor, she stood topless. Her panties didn’t remain there long either as she pulled them down herself to reveal her nakedness to me.
“What would you like me to do now?” I asked lovingly.
“Do whatever you want,” she replied. “Have your way with me. Kiss me wherever you want. Ravish me.”
My heart nearly skipped a beat from hearing my mother give herself to me completely. I grabbed her again, this time even tighter, and planted kisses on her bare shoulder and back. I could have turned her around and kissed her mouth and nipples, but that’s not what either of us wanted at the moment. I wanted her to see herself in the mirror as I used her for my sexual gratification. And she had also expressed the same desire in her story to see herself being ravished this way (at least through a character she had written).
I got down on my knees and continued my kisses on her thighs and rear end. And just like her story, she bent over and leaned her hands on the wooden shoe rack, giving me full access to her exposed womanhood, while her face stayed in front of the mirror. I was treated to the sexually explicit sight of my mother’s tiny brown anus, as well as her thick brown labia and her glistening pink insides. Her pubic hairs were neatly trimmed as I saw in her pictures.
Soft breathing escaped her lips when I started kissing her labia. And her breathing became even heavier when I stuck my tongue out and began licking her vaginal lips and tasting her fluids. She tasted and felt wonderful on my mouth, but hearing her moan so openly was what really gave me pleasure. After giving her a few more licks, my throbbing cock couldn’t take it any longer and I desperately needed to ravish her as she had asked.
“Oh” Submission Town: Dutiful Mommy
Summary: Mom fucks son, eats daughter, hairdresser and best friend.
Note: Thanks to Leann and goamz86 for editing this story.
Recap: In part one… “Oh” Submission Town: A Mother Falls…Kimberly, a Minister’s wife, catches her rebellious daughter having sex with her boyfriend in the church. This begins a domino effect of shocking revelations that include her best friend is a submissive to her daughter, there is a lesbian housewives club in her conservative Christian community and her daughter is the mistress that ties all these things together. Eventually, she too falls under the hypnotic spell of her daughter and submits to her.
In part two… “Oh” Submission Town: Brother & Son…Kimberly and her daughter are caught in the act of lesbian incest by Ben…her son. Ben doesn’t hesitate as he joins the incest activity by taking his mother in both the pussy and ass.
“Oh” Submission Town: Dutiful Mommy
Kimberly woke up and felt an arm wrapped around her which was strange as her husband was not one to cuddle. She opened her eyes and gasped as she saw her daughter sleeping beside her. In a rush, all of last night’s memories came flooding back to her. She had sucked her daughter’s boyfriend’s cock; she had licked her daughter’s pussy after it was filled by Tommy’s cum; she had come from her daughter’s tongue; she got sodomized by her son; she eagerly rode her son’s cock and got filled with his cum; she ended the night with a incestuous threesome in her own bedroom.
Kimberly was paralyzed by her actions. Mortified by the memories that continued to flash in her head, tears began to form at the reality of her horrific incest submission and the betrayal she had committed to her husband and the Lord. Yet, even as all her sins washed through her, the guilt overwhelming, she felt an undeniable wetness in her vagina. She cursed her weakness, wondered how she could turn back the hands of time and return to her world of oblivion and innocence. Yet, her pussy continued to beg for attention.
Ben felt his mother move and his cock instantly grew like it always did…his regular morning wood. He cupped his mom’s breasts and whispered, “Good morning, Mommy-slut.”
Kimberly’s eyes went big, her breasts, her most erogenous zone, instantly triggering another rush to her pussy. The name calling also triggered a reaction, one she could not explain. Yet, the morning after, this was the time to stop this before it got out of hand. She said firmly, “Ben, stop this right now.”
“Stop what?” Ben asked innocently, as he moved his finger and teased her nipple, his growing cock poking her side.
“This,” Kimberly said exasperated, getting more distracted as she felt her son’s cock poking her thigh.
“I am not sure I understand, Mom. You are our vessel of sin if I recall your exact words,” Ben whispered, moving to her ear and biting her ear lobe.
“I said that?” Kimberly moaned against her will, the hot breath on her neck, nipple teasing and cock poking all distracting her from the firm resolve she was trying to have.
“You also said ‘fuck my ass, Master,’ ‘come in my ass,’ and ‘come in Mommy’s cunt’ if I recall,” Ben said, listing just a few of the naughty words his prim and proper mother screamed and begged for during the throes of passion.
Kimberly remembered all these and so many more inappropriate things that came out of her mouth during last night’s sexual escapades. Shame coursed through her being at what she did yesterday, at not being able to squelch the serpent of lust that coursed through her and yet there was no denying the growing hunger to commit those sins again.
“Do you want to get fucked, Mom?” Ben asked.
“Yes, but we can’t continue this,” Kimberly answered, not realizing by the first word of her sentence the rest was redundant.
“Mom,” Ben chuckled. “The gates of sin have been opened and they are not going to be closed.”
Kimberly watched helplessly as her son moved on top of her. She could have protested; she could have resisted; instead she opened the gates of sin again as she spread her legs inviting her son to pull her deeper into the fiery pits of lust.
Ben placed his erect cock at his mother’s pussy and again repeated the question, “Do you want to get fucked, Mom?”
Kimberly could feel her son’s cock head teasing her increasingly wet pussy lips. She knew resistance was futile. She never felt more alive than she did last night, whether it be sucking Tommy’s cock, licking her daughter’s pussy or getting fucked in all three holes by her son. “Yes,” she admitted embarrassed by her answer.
“Yes, what?” Ben asked, moving his cock up and down between his Mom’s pussy lips.
Kimberly moaned, the tease driving her crazy. She wanted to feel his cock in her cunt and she admitted as much. “Oh Ben, please fuck Mommy. I need it sooooo badly.”
“As you request,” Ben smiled, loving the sexual power he had over his mother…his longest stroke fantasy before last night’s revelation and major shift in the family hierarchy.
“Yeeeees,” Kimberly moaned as her son’s cock slid easily inside her hot inferno.
“Fuck your cunt is tight, Mom,” Ben said, as his cock completely filled his mom.
Kimberly had no idea why she said it, but she purred, “As tight as my ass, baby?”
Ben laughed, “No Mom, not as tight as that firm ass of yours.”
For the next few minutes Ben fucked his mom. He looked down at her throughout the fucking. Her eyes closed, her lips pursed, only enhanced the pleasure as he knew she was getting off because of him. She was so beautiful and now she was his.
“Starting without me?” Cinthia asked, as she turned on her side and watched her mom and brother fuck.
“You are next,” Ben replied, knowing that he could shoot his first load in Mom and be ready to go a couple of minutes later for his sister.
“Better be. I realize now that you fucked Mom three times last night, but completely neglected my cunt,” Cinthia pointed out.
“I’ll rectify that error in a few minutes,” Ben promised as he could feel his balls beginning to boil.
Kimberly meanwhile just allowed the incredible pleasure of being fucked hard to flow through her body…her mind still may have protested succumbing to the sin, but her body had given in without reservation and it was her body that was currently running the show as pleasure pulsed through her very being. She moaned, “So cloooooose, baby.”
“Come for me, Mom,” Ben grunted, wanting to watch his mother’s facial expression as her inevitable orgasm hit.
“Yeeeees, Ben,” Kimberly agreed, allowing the last resistance to fade and instantly her body trembled and quaked, her screams echoed through the room and her juices flooded out of her.
Ben was close too, but held back until his mom had completely reached orgasmic bliss and had started to come down. Finally, he erupted, shooting yet another load deep inside his mom’s cunt.
“Oh yes, baby, fill Mommy’s cunt,” Kimberly moaned, as she tightened her cunt muscles around her son’s cock trying to milk every drop of his cum.
Once spent, Ben pulled out, pulled his sister up and shoved his cock in her mouth. “Clean Mom’s cunt juice from my cock.”
Cinthia had little choice but to suck his cock as her brother held her head, although of course she would have eagerly done so.
Kimberly lay on her back and watched her two children, still trying to come to grips with the reality of the past day. Watching her daughter suck her son she felt her mouth water. She wanted to suck his cock again; to taste his cum again.
After a few minutes of slow sucking by Cinthia, Ben pulled his cock out of his sister’s mouth; lay back on the king sized bed beside his mom and ordered, “Get riding.”
Cinthia didn’t need more than those two words to straddle her brother, lowering her cunt onto his flagpole.
Kimberly watched in voyeuristic awe at the incest act occurring just inches from her.
Cinthia rode her brother for a few minutes before her own orgasm hit. She continued riding throughout her orgasm, wanting to feel her brother’s cum fill her.
Ben, having just come in his mother, took longer than usual to come, but eventually he shot his second load of the morning and fifth in a few hours.
As soon as her brother finished coming in her, Cinthia got off his cock, straddled her mom’s surprised face and allowed cum to leak out of her and onto her mother.
Kimberly would rather have swallowed her son’s cum from the source, but craving his seed, after the first drop hit her forehead, she leaned forward and began sucking her son’s cum out of her daughter’s cunt.
Eventually, the second incest threesome in a dozen hours came to an end.
Cinthia asked, “Is anyone hungry for some breakfast?”
“Real breakfast?” Ben joked.
“Yes, bacon and eggs,” Cinthia laughed back.
“Yum,” Ben said, always hungry.
“Go make us breakfast, Mom,” Cinthia ordered.
Kimberly, suddenly feeling like a mother again, got out of bed, grabbed her robe and left the room her head still spinning from both the euphoria and shame of her actions.
It was after breakfast was done that Cinthia finally brought up her expectations. “So Mother, you understand that last night and this morning was not an anomaly. I expect complete obedience from you at all times.”
Kimberly no longer confined to her lust, tried to reason with her daughter, “Cinthia, please I am still your mother.”
“Yes, you are,” Cinthia agreed, pretending to agree with her mother before adding, “Your Motherly roles have just been expanded.”
Ben let out a chuckle.
Kimberly, already sensing she was losing another battle, said, “What about your father?”
“I asked the same question to you last night when your son was fucking you if I recall,” Cinthia retorted.
“Last night needs to stay between us,” Kimberly tried to argue.
“What about this morning?” Cinthia asked.
“Fine,” Kimberly sighed, catching on her daughter was playing a game with her. “Last night and this morning needs to stay between us.”
“What about tonight” Cinthia asked.
“No more, we can’t do this anymore,” Kimberly firmly said.
“Oh Mother, you are a silly woman,” Cinthia sighed. “Do you really think you have any say in this anymore?”
“I’m your mother!” Kimberly clarified.
“You’re my slut,” Cinthia corrected, adding a list of other terms to put her mother in place. “My cunt licker, my pet mommy, my personal sex slave and your son’s cum bucket.”
“Cinthia!” Kimberly gasped, even as she felt her pussy tingle which frustrated her even more. Why could she not control herself? Why did such disrespectful terms turn her on?
“Slut!” Cinthia mocked back. “Go shower. You have a haircut at eleven.”
“I do?” Kimberly asked.
“You have a new life, thus you need a new look,” Cinthia said, knowing her father insisted on Mom always having long hair.
“But I,” Kimberly began to protest but was quickly shot down.
“Now slut!” Cinthia demanded, raising her voice.
The defeated mother looked with pleading eyes to her son, the rational one, but he just smiled, seemingly enjoying the power struggle between the two women in his life.
Kimberly reluctantly went upstairs and to her bedroom shower. While washing away her sins, including sticky spots on her body, tears streamed down her face. What had she done? How could she have so easily submitted sexually? Why couldn’t she resist the temptation? What now? How could she get herself out of a predicament that could only end in forever purgatory in the flames of Hell?
Getting out of the shower, Kimberly decides she would pretend to obey the orders of her daughter, but go and see her best friend Lucy. She too had submitted sexually to her daughter, but hopefully she could understand the full depths of her daughter’s power and how she could stop it. Returning to her bedroom in a towel, her son was on her bed, lying down, his cock completely erect as if calling her name. She sighed, her fragile shell of resistance already delicate at best. Her son’s cock seemed to have a magnetic pull, drawing her against her will.
Ben watched, didn’t say a word, as his mother went through the many emotions in seconds: denial, resistance, hunger, and acceptance.
Kimberly sighed, as she let the towel drop to the floor and joined her son again on her bed, a bed she shared with her husband, “Damn you. Ben.”
Ben just smiled as he watched his mother give in again, this time without orders or name calling, but raw sexual hunger.
Kimberly couldn’t resist, her mouth watering for her son’s cock, forgetting instantly the strong will she had while showering, and took her son’s cock in her mouth again. Unlike last time she sucked his cock, this time she took her time, kissing it, licking it, making love to it. She wanted to worship her son’s cock and be the best cocksucker to ever worship his glorious cock.
Ben continued to just watch and enjoy. His mother looked so hot with his cock in her mouth. She took her time as she swirled her tongue around his mushroom top, she slithered her tongue down his shaft and then she shocked him by taking his balls in her mouth.
Kimberly didn’t know why she decided to suck each of her son’s balls into her mouth, but it just seemed the natural thing to do. She really didn’t know what she was doing, having never done such a thing before, but her son’s moans seemed to imply he was enjoying it.
The lengthy tease by his mother was driving him nuts and Ben finally spoke. “Mom. I want to see you deep throat my cock.”
Kimberly smiled, looking at her son, and purred, talking like a bimbo slut and not a dignified mother, “You want Mommy to gag on this big juicy hard cock of yours?”
“I want to deposit a load of cum deep down your throat, Mommy-slut,” Ben added.
Kimberly moved her tongue back up the iron rod and took it in her mouth.
Ben moaned, “That’s it, Mommy.”
Kimberly loved hearing her son moan because of her and she began taking more of his cock in her mouth, unsure if she could take all eight inches, almost three more than her husband.
“I want you to take it all, like a good Mommy-slut,” Ben moaned, watching his snake slowly disappear in his Mom’s beautiful lips.
Again Kimberly’s pussy burned at the name-calling. Her brief resistance was shattered again, and she just wanted to be a good slut, a good Mommy-slut. She continued taking more and more of her son’s cock with each downward bob.
“Oh yes, Kimberly,” Ben moaned, using his mother’s first name, something he had never once done before. “You are a great cocksucker.”
Kimberly moaned on his cock, loving the compliment. Seven inches in her mouth she paused getting used to having so much cock in between her lips.
“Take your time, cocksucker,” Ben said, enjoying the show as much as he was enjoying the blow job.
Kimberly wanted it all in her mouth; she wanted to obey his command; she wanted to be the best cocksucker he had ever had; she wanted to be better than her daughter. Going for broke, she moved her head up and then back down taking all eight inches in her mouth.
“Holy fuck, Mom, you did it,” Ben groaned, surprised his mother could take it all in her mouth.
Kimberly didn’t move, adjusting to having eight inches of her son’s meat in her mouth. Now that she had accomplished the seemingly impossible task, she wanted to swallow his load. She began bobbing up and down furiously wanting to milk her son’s cock dry.
“Oh fuck, Mommy, so good,” Ben groaned, this easily being the best blow job he had ever received and he had gotten quite a few from college coeds this semester.
Again these were words that were exciting to the eager Mother’s ears and she continued the fast-paced assault on her son’s missile.
“Oh God, fuck, Mommy, oh Mommy, oh, oh, fuuuuuck, Mommyyyyyyyyy,” Ben screamed like a child as his cum rocketed into his mom’s mouth and down her throat.
Kimberly was surprised by the full amount of cum that sprayed the back of her throat and she gagged a bit, some of the cum dripping out of her mouth. Determined, she kept sucking wanting to swallow, to taste, to savor, her son’s cum.
The pleasure so intense as his mom kept sucking, Ben had to push his mother’s head away as it began to tickle.
Kimberly’s eyes got big. What had she done wrong?
Ben, seeing his Mother’s facial expression, said, “Sorry Mom, that was just so intense and amazing that after I came I couldn’t handle the intensity anymore.”
“So you liked it?” Kimberly asked, somehow needing her son’s approval.
“God yes,” Ben smiled, still recovering from the orgasm, his cock twitching long after he shot his load. “That was the most intense blow job I have ever had.”
“Good,” Kimberly said, relieved to know she had pleased him.
Cinthia interrupted the brief moment as she walked in and said, “Enough sucking cock, Mommy-slut. Get dressed now, and you are not to wear panties or a bra. Is that clear?”
Kimberly sighed, hating the aggressiveness of her daughter, but agreed, “Yes, Mistress.”
“The rest of your outfit for today is lying on my bed,” Cinthia said. “Get dressed and meet me downstairs.”
“Yes, Mistress,” Kimberly agreed, even though she was already dreading what her daughter was thinking she should wear.
Cinthia left the room and Ben stood up, his cock beginning to return to slumber. He said, “Mom, don’t disobey her, she is ruthless to those who disobey.”
“How do you know?” Kimberly asked,
“I have seen it,” Ben admitted.
“When? Who?” Kimberly asked, curious just how involved her son was in her daughter’s complex web of sin.
“Mrs. Anger,” Ben revealed, before adding, “this past summer at the lake.”
“And?” Kimberly asked, drawn into the story and wanting to know more.
“Well she was already Cinthia’s pet and Cinthia ordered that she suck me off in her car,” Ben explained. “Mrs. Anger was mortified because her husband was at the beach as were her two children. She originally refused but after a lengthy talk with Cinthia, that I have no idea what was said, Mrs. Anger came and met me in the car and I got to fuck her ass instead.”
“Oh,” Kimberly said, thinking that wasn’t so bad.
“Then she had to go and find another teenager to cum on her face,” Ben added.
“Oh my,” Kimberly gasped, understanding the humiliating potential consequences.
“Don’t cross her, Mom,” Ben warned. “She is very loyal and can be compassionate if you are obedient, but disobey her and watch out for her wrath.”
“Hell hath no fury,” Kimberly quipped.
“Than a Mistress scorned,” Ben finished with a smile.
“I love you, Ben,” the mother said.
“I love you too, Mom,” Ben said back, pulling her in for a rather friendly hug, ignoring the reality that they were both completely naked.
Ben’s cock, hard again, poked his Mother’s leg.
“Does that thing ever shrink?” Kimberly asked, amazed at how quickly her son’s cock reloaded, especially considering he had come three times already and it was still morning.
“It’s always loaded and ready to go,” Ben shrugged.
“Good to know,” Kimberly smiled, no longer resisting the sin of incest but willing to go all in.
Kimberly grabbed a robe and headed to her daughter’s room where she saw an outfit lying on her daughter’s bed. She sighed again. On the bed was a plaid skirt, a white blouse and beige thigh highs that Kimberly instantly fretted would not be hidden by the short skirt. There was no one to protest to so she began getting dressed. She slid the silky thigh highs up her legs feeling decadent and sexy. She ran her hands up and down her legs, loving the touch of the soft silky nylon. She pulled the skirt up her legs and was thankful to see the skirt was longer than she thought and covered completely the lace tops of her thigh high stockings. She walked around a bit and was happy to see that the skirt had her lingerie hidden, as long as she didn’t bend down too much. She put on the white blouse and her face flushed, noticing that it fit rather tightly, her breasts impossible to not notice. If her nipples got hard they would poke out like headlights impossible to miss. One more sigh and the mother walked downstairs to see what else her daughter had in store for her.
“You look delicious,” Cinthia complimented as she assessed her mother, the outfit making her look years younger.
“Thank you, Mistress,” Kimberly smiled; loving getting compliments something she never got from her old-fashioned husband.
“Do you like your new attire?” Cinthia asked.
“It’s okay,” the mother said, “although the blouse is a little tight.”
“It really brings out your figure,” Cinthia commented. “No more hiding your beauty behind conservative attire.”
“Yes, Mistress,” Kimberly agreed, feeling like a Barbie doll for her daughter to dress up.
“Go get your haircut now, Mom,” Cinthia ordered, “before offering to pay with your tongue.”
“What?” Kimberly gasped, this not remotely being a task she expected her daughter to assign.
“I think my instructions were pretty clear?” Cinthia said, her tone implying she wasn’t in the mood to bargain.
The mother and respected minister’s wife protested, “But Cinthia, I have a reputation to uphold.”
“No, you have a reputation to taint?” Cinthia corrected. “No more faking who you really are.”
“But I can’t offer that,” Kimberly pleaded.
“If it makes you feel better, Caroline already knows how you are planning to pay and she is looking forward to it,” Cinthia revealed.
“Oh God! oh God,” Kimberly repeated, mortified by the expectations of her daughter.
“Now go before I add to your orders and trust me the additions will be a lot more humiliating,” Cinthia threatened, implying the conversation was done.
Kimberly wanted to speak, but understood by the tone of her daughter’s last words, as well as the look in her eyes that the conversation was done and any further protest would have consequences. “Yes, Mistress,” the mother agreed reluctantly, unsure how she could ever possibly fulfil the task.
“Good, go slut, you don’t want to be late,” Cinthia ordered.
“Yes, Mistress,” Kimberly agreed.
“I left you appropriate shoes for your ensemble at the door,” Cinthia added.
Kimberly reached the door and sighed yet again. The black heels were four inches and not something she would usually wear. Anyone who was already her daughter’s sub would be suspicious of her based on her new attire. She just prayed that none would suspect she was willing to commit incest.
Heels on, she headed to her car and drove to the salon, her brief idea of rebelling and talking to Lucy long done.
The salon was rather busy for a Saturday but Kimberly was greeted warmly by Caroline who smiled widely when she saw the Reverend’s wife. Caroline was told by Cinthia that she would be paying for her haircut in a creative way which intrigued her. Caroline submitted to Cinthia in this salon and was curious how much Kimberly had submitted to her daughter. Would Cinthia commit incest? She did pretty much everything else so nothing would surprise her…but Mrs. Martin was the most proper woman in the community.
Kimberly noticed instantly that Caroline, a thirty something women with a young three year old daughter was also dressed a lot younger than she used to. A tight red blouse, a black leather skirt, black nylons and matching four inch heels. She also noticed that Caroline’s breasts were very large and her nipples protruded ever so slightly.
“Take a seat, Mrs. Martin,” Caroline offered.
“Oh, it’s Kimberly,” Kimberly said, trying to make this as casual as she could.
Once seated, “I have a picture of the cut you wanted on my phone,” Caroline said.
“You do?” Kimberly asked.
“Yes, your daughter sent it to me. As well as the streaks that go with it,” Caroline revealed.
“Oh, okay,” Kimberly agreed.
“Is that what you want?” Caroline asked, showing Kimberly the photo.
“Yes, it’s time for a change,” Kimberly said, the thought rather true after years and years of the exact same hairdo.
“Well this will be a change,” Caroline agreed, curious as hell of what led to the sudden change in appearance…even though she had an inkling.
Over the next hour they chatted about the usual generic chit-chat like the weather, the upcoming Christmas pageant, holiday plans and so forth.
Kimberly couldn’t believe how much the bob haircut changed her look. She looked younger, she looked more hip and she looked radiant. The streaks in her hair also really changed her look. It was then that Mrs. Krandall, the school principal walked in.
Mrs. Krandall’s smile got big as she greeted, “Mrs. Martin, what a glorious new look. The outfit and the hair have shed years off your look.”
“Thank you,” Kimberly replied, appreciating the compliment even as the image of her leading the housewives lesbian club popped into her head.
Mrs. Krandall had received a text from Mistress Cinthia about coming and inviting Kimberly to a special housewives club Monday afternoon. The idea of adding the Reverend’s wife to their growing club was too exciting not to do. “You are very welcome,” she smiled back.
Kimberly’s anxiety hit her hard as she wondered what Mrs. Krandall knew, her smile seemingly to know more than just hello, also her time at the salon was almost over and she really had no idea how to approach Caroline and offer to pay with her tongue…even though her cunt was wet with the idea.
Mrs. Krandall answered the first of her concerns when she moved to Kimberly, bent down and put her hand on the reverend’s wife’s thigh and whispered, “I expect you at my house at two o’clock on a Monday, is that understood?”
“Y-y-yes,” Kimberly stammered, her head spinning from the woman’s touch on her thigh, hot breath on her ear and obvious implications that she knew more than she should know.
“Good, now go to the washroom and I will send Caroline back so you can give her a special tip,” Mrs. Krandall instructed, slyly biting the MILF’s ear before standing back up.
Kimberly’s head was spinning, but she stood up, nodded to Mrs. Krandall and headed to the washroom. Time seemed to stand still although it was really less than two minutes, before there was a knock at the door. Kimberly said, “Please come in.”
Caroline came in and said, “June said you wanted to speak with me in private.”
“I-I-I, um, can I lick your pussy,” Kimberly stammered, before just bluntly saying the words she was to say.
“Hmmmmmm,” Caroline purred. “She got you too, how deviously delicious.”
Kimberly blushed beet red giving away any pretense that she hadn’t submitted sexually to her daughter.
Caroline locked the door, hiked up her skirt, revealing she too was wearing thigh highs, hopped onto the counter, spread her legs and said, “Lick away, Mrs. Martin.”
Kimberly stared at the shaved cunt in front of her before her before awkwardly moving to Caroline, kneeling between the nylon legs and leaning forward.
As the reverend’s wife began licking she quickly shifted from ashamed to eager as the taste of Caroline’s cunt, although different than Cinthia’s, was still sweetly addicting.
Caroline watched and enjoyed with curiosity. How had Cinthia got her own mother to submit? Had there been any incest activity involved?
Kimberly kept licking, wanting to make it quick so others didn’t notice they were gone together for a long period of time and she wanted to get Caroline off and taste her full sweetness.
Caroline, turned on by the nasty act, her thoughts running wild of incestuous submission reached her orgasm quickly as she grabbed Kimberly’s head and shoved her face hard against her own cunt as the orgasm hit.
Kimberly could barely breathe, yet she kept licking as the river of cum exploded onto her. She loved the taste and her own cunt burned with need at committing the submissive act.
Once her orgasm had run its course, Caroline let Kimberly’s head go and said, not recognizing at all what had just transpired, “I should get back.”
Kimberly felt crestfallen. Was she so bad that Caroline didn’t say anything at all? She needed to know, as bizarre as it seemed, “Was I good?”
Caroline, who had just got off the counter and adjusted her skirt, smiled, amused at the insecurity of someone who usually walked with such an aura of pretentiousness, “You were not too bad.”
Kimberly wasn’t sure if that was good or bad but said, “Thank you.”
“No, thank you,” Caroline said back as she pulled Kimberly off her knees. “You may want to wash up a bit; your messed up make-up is a dead giveaway.”
Kimberly looked in the mirror as Caroline unlocked the door and left her alone. Her face was shiny and her make-up was a disaster. She quickly washed her face and applied new make-up before returning to the salon.
As she did, she felt as if everyone could see through her facade of propriety and into her tormented, sexual soul. That said, everyone just went about their business as Caroline paid for her haircut.
Once paid, Kimberly was just returning to her car when her cell buzzed.
Checking the text it was from Cinthia.
I understand you completed task one…good girl.
Task two is as follows. Go to Bethany’s and get the FULL treatment. She knows you are coming.
P.S. she is not one of my submissives.
Kimberly sighed, both at another task, although a manicure was definitely needed as was a massage and with relief at going somewhere that didn’t know of her transgressions.
Kimberly drove the few blocks and went inside. Bethany brought her to the back where Kimberly was surprised again.
“I was surprised you wanted the full Brazilian,” Bethany said.
Kimberly had no idea what a Brazilian was at first, but faked it. “It just seemed time.”
“Are you and the minister going somewhere tropical?” Bethany asked.
“Not that I know of,” Kimberly joked, the last trip that wasn’t church related being their honeymoon and even that was literally anti-climactic.
“Oh, okay,” Bethany said, curious at the rather extensive waxing the minister’s wife was requesting. “Get completely undressed and lie face down on the bed.”
Kimberly had received massages before but they never included getting completely naked. Yet, once Bethany was gone, she got naked curious what a full Brazilian was.
A terrible painful hour later, Kimberly knew full well what a full Brazilian was. She didn’t have a hair on her body other than her head. Her cunt was still burning, the lotion only numbing the pain as she headed back to her car.
Kimberly decided she had a new hair-do, a new Brazilian and thus she also needed some new clothes. She drove a few blocks to a fashionable shop she had never been in before and purchased some new outfits. None were scandalous, yet each skirt was a few inches shorter, each blouse a bit tighter, the dresses showcased her curves and the shoes had higher than her usual conservative heels. She also bought some lace bras, a couple thongs and lace panties, a few pairs of thigh high stockings and even a garter-belt and stockings.
Kimberly felt like a different woman. Strangely, she felt liberated. As if the handcuffs of propriety and being a minister’s wife were unlocked and she could be a woman again…a living, breathing sexual being.
Kimberly returned to her car and drove home wanting to change into one of her new outfits.
Reaching home, Kimberly was surprised to see no one was home. She went to her room, had a quick shower and dressed in a black thong, black lace bra, matching black garter-belt and stockings, four inch heels, a black leather skirt and a colourful blouse that barely kept in her voluptuous breasts.
Kimberly couldn’t wait for Cinthia to see her new look. Her new haircut really changed her look even though she felt bald with so much hair gone. Down below she was as hairless as a new born baby and it still felt strange, although also sexy.
The mother started making supper like she usually would…making Ben’s favourite…her special homemade meatloaf.
Just after Kimberly put the meatloaf in the oven, she got a text from Cinthia:
Be home for supper. Bringing two guests. Ben won’t be joining us.
Kimberly sighed and quivered. Who were the guests? Where was Ben? Why was her pussy already tingling with anticipation? She made a salad, some dinner rolls and mashed potatoes for Cinthia and her unknown guests.
The mother was just pulling the meatloaf out of the oven when the front door opened.
“Mommy, I’m home,” Cinthia called out.
A chill went down Kimberly’s spine a mixture of anticipation and trepidation at what guests her daughter was bringing. Taking a deep breath, she put the meatloaf on the counter to cool as she went to greet her guests like a good host.
Turning the corner, Kimberly stopped as she saw the two guests. She had assumed, for some reason, they were going to be adults who were already in the web of sin Cinthia had created. Instead they were two of her high school girlfriends, Anna and Cleo. She instantly froze, paranoid that Cinthia was going to out her in front of her friends.
“Mom, you look amazing,” Cinthia complimented.
Kimberly replied, liking getting a compliment, “Well the hair was your idea, but then I thought I should also go and get some new, this century, clothing.”
“Well, you look very hip Mrs. Martin,” Anna complimented.
“Yes, I barely recognized you,” Cleo added.
“I barely recognize myself,” the flattered mother joked back, even though it was true.
Thankfully, Cinthia behaved herself and other than using her as a maid all night, she kept their secret.
Around ten, Cinthia and the girls left for some party and she whispered in her mother’s ear, “Lucy is on her way over.”
“Okay,” Kimberly said, nervous at having a conversation with Lucy after she had been so critical of her for sexually submitting to Cinthia. Now Kimberly had sinned way more than she had.
“And she knows what happened last night,” Cinthia finished, tugging on her mom’s ear as she left.
“Oh,” Kimberly said, distracted by the hot breath that was just on her ear and no other profound thoughts coming to mind.
Kimberly wasn’t home alone five minutes when there was a knock on the door. She opened it and greeted, “Hi, Lucy, it is great to see you.”
“You too,” Lucy replied, checking out the new look of her best friend. “You look…amazing!”
“I feel it too,” Kimberly admitted, a rush of youthful exuberance coming with her makeover and sexual submission.
“May I come in?” Lucy asked, Kimberly still standing in the door way.
“Sorry, of course,” Kimberly said, moving aside so Lucy could come in.
Lucy, dressed in a casual blouse, pencil skirt, thigh high beige stockings and six inch heels walked into her best friend’s house remembering how the last time she was here she was caught licking Cinthia’s cunt.
“Would you like a glass of wine?” Kimberly asked.
“Sure, if you are,” Lucy smiled.
“Of course,” Kimberly said, going to the kitchen.
Lucy followed her in, checking out her friend’s really tight ass, especially in that skirt.
Kimberly poured two glasses of wine, and suggested, “Why don’t we retreat to the living room?”
“Sure,” Lucy agreed, again following from behind. Lucy wasn’t sure what may happen tonight but was told by Mistress Cinthia that Kimberly wanted to see her.
Once both ladies were seated in the same couch, Kimberly said, “I’m sorry for what I said. I was very surprised at the time and hurt.”
“I’m sorry too,” Lucy apologized. “I never meant to get you pulled into this twisted community.”
“Led by my daughter,” Kimberly added, checking out Lucy’s legs.
“Yes, she is the initiator of a growing group of us,” Lucy admitted, noticing her friend’s distraction. Lucy allowed her left heel to dangle from her foot, seeing if she was right about Kimberly checking her out.
“I just couldn’t believe it,” Kimberly said, downing over half her wine, staring at her friend’s dangling shoe like it was a hypnotist’s watch.
“Oh, it is unexplainable, but she just has a power that people can’t say no to,” Lucy said, allowing her heel to fall to the floor.
“So I have learned,” Kimberly chuckled, finishing her first glass. “Hmmmm, apparently I am thirsty.” Kimberly got up and went to the kitchen to grab the bottle of wine. She thought to herself, ‘What is becoming of me. I can’t even have a conversation with my best friend without getting horny?’
Kimberly poured herself another glass of wine and brought the bottle with her thinking maybe some liquid encouragement may be needed.
Lucy smiled, “Good, you brought the bottle.”
Kimberly laughed, “Two great minds thinking alike.”
Lucy laughed, standing up and walking to Kimberly, “Let’s see if that is really true.”
Reaching her best friend, Lucy leaned forward and kissed Kimberly.
Kimberly was only slightly surprised as she opened her mouth and responded passionately. The two friend’s tongues explored each other for a couple of minutes before Kimberly whispered, “Oh God Lucy.”
“You want to worship me, Kimberly?” Lucy asked.
“Every inch of you,” Kimberly admitted, the door opened to sin by her daughter not one she had any interest in closing.
“Worship away,” Lucy said, taking the wine and putting it on the table before sitting back on the couch.
Kimberly moved nervously to Lucy, fell to her knees, and took Lucy’s stocking-clad foot in her hands. She gently massaged it before lifting it towards her mouth and beginning to suck each toe through the sheer nylon.
Lucy moaned, “Hmmmm, that feels very nice.”
Kimberly loved the soft feel of Lucy’s nylons in her hands and on her lips. Once each toe had been sucked, she slid her tongue down the bottom of Lucy’s sole.
Lucy giggled, “That tickles.”
Kimberly kissed Lucy’s heel and then replicated the attention on Lucy’s other foot.
Lucy moaned, “No one has ever spent such focus on my feet before.”
“I want to worship all of you, Mistress,” Kimberly said, using the word that could change everything.
“Mistress,” Lucy repeated. “You sure you want to be my pet.”
“Just tell me what to do,” Kimberly said, loving the feeling of giving up control.
“Take off your skirt,” Lucy ordered.
“Yes, Mistress,” Kimberly agreed, standing up and sliding out of the skirt.
“A garter-belt and stockings, delicious,” Lucy purred. “But good pets don’t wear underwear.”
“Even sexy underwear like this?” Kimberly said, turning around to showcase her ass in the thin thong.
“Well that is tough to argue,” Lucy laughed, before instructing, “Remove it anyway.”
“Of course, Mistress,” Kimberly agreed, slowly sliding out of the tiny piece of underwear.
“Do you like my heels?” Lucy asked.
“They are very nice,” Kimberly said.
“Six inches,” Lucy said. “They almost killed me the first time your daughter made me wear them.”
“Understandable,” Kimberly said, unable to fathom wearing such heels herself.
“But they do have another under-utilized purpose,” Lucy smiled.
“What would that be?” Kimberly asked curious.
“They make a good makeshift fuck-toy,” Lucy revealed.
“Oh my,” Kimberly said surprised by her friends words.
“Fuck yourself with my heel, my pet,” Lucy instructed.
“Yes, Mistress,” Kimberly agreed, her cunt soaked from just sucking on Lucy’s toes. She bent down, grabbed the heel and paused, unsure where to sit to do this.
“Fuck yourself standing up, Kimberly. Good little sluts can come anywhere, anytime and in any position,” Lucy explained.
“O-o-okay,” Kimberly said, thinking how awkward this would be. She moved the lengthy thin heel to her pussy and began to rub it between her pussy lips. “Mmmmmm,” she moaned, as the heel parted her pussy lips.
“Don’t tease that cunt of yours, fuck it Kimberly. Fuck it like you allowed your son to fuck your pussy,” Lucy said, purposely pushing her friend.
Kimberly blushed at her naughty, incestuous submission and the reality her best friend knew of her twisted obedience. She slid the end of the heel inside her burning box as she asked, “Don’t you think it was wrong what I did with Cinthia and Ben?”
As always, this is a work of fiction and the characters are imaginary, existing only within the confines of the story and my imagination. It is intended for the enjoyment of my audience and should not be copied or distributed, in whole or in part, without the author’s permission. Thank you to Wayne for his assistance.
Mary woke this morning with anticipation of what new experiences the day would bring. She smiled to herself as she thought about how this day came about. It was five weeks ago that she first had sex with her stepson. Carsten was six foot two inches with bright blond hair, deep blue eyes, a lean but muscular build, and a very large cock. After he had spied on her masturbation and she saw him doing the same, she decided to stop playing and woke him up with sex one morning. Following that, they fucked each other anytime they could that her son Wesley was not around (Widow and her Step Son).
Wesley figured out that his mother and step-brother were getting it on and, rather than being angry, was jealous that Carsten was getting all the action (Widow gets her Son). Mary was well and truly fucked to delirium by her own son for two days straight. While Carsten was definitely the better equipped in terms of penis size, Wesley was the better lover, with a definite preclusion to playing with her sensitive ass (Widow Finds her Son’s Anal Desire).
As Mary rose naked from the bed, she looked at herself in the mirror to see what changes the last few weeks had done to her body. She knew she had lost nearly 20 pounds in weight with the regular sexual exercise she was getting. She could see that her full, 1960s typical house-wife figure had slimed down. Her previously heart-shaped rear was tighter and firmer, and much more rounded than its previous graceful curve. Her legs were noticeably more muscular and firmer, and the hips had narrowed a bit. The belly pooch of an older woman was almost completely gone, replaced with a nearly flat belly. Even her arms were firming up, with the flabby under hanging muscles now tightened up and actually showing some definition.
The only negative effect was that with the weight loss, her breasts were a touch less full and showing a bit more sag. She lifted them up with her hands to examine them and felt a spark in her pussy. Both of the boys loved playing with her breasts and they had received lots of attention recently. As she felt that familiar warmth spread in her loins, she caressed and played with her own breasts a moment. Then she noticed that the sag was less pronounced and they seemed fuller again.
Putting aside the desire to play with her own body for now, she turned her mind to what she should wear while cooking breakfast this morning. She wanted to cook a hearty breakfast for the boys, and cooking bacon and eggs in the nude was not a really smart thing to do. After a little thought, she rummaged through her lingerie drawer and pulled out a red lace garter belt and matching half-cup bra. She put these on and added some white lace stockings and some white high-heeled sandals. She would finish the look downstairs.
As she left her bedroom and walked towards the stairs, she saw that Wesley’s room was open and empty as she heard some television audio from downstairs. Carsten’s room was still closed and she assumed he was still asleep. She went down the stairs and Wesley glanced up from the television, and then looked again.
“Damn, Mom,” he exclaimed. “You look good enough to eat!”
“I will hold you to that,” she replied with a smile. “But we should have breakfast first.” She went over to the linen drawer and dug through it until she found the apron she was looking for. It was a professional style apron in white that draped over her neck and tied around her waist. It left the sides of her breast flesh and her full back and ass completely exposed to viewing, which would be tempting to anyone watching her cook…and that was the idea.
As she moved about the kitchen, she would glance at Wesley in the Den watching television and see that he was watching her as much as the show he had on. She finally had everything ready to cook and started the bacon in the pan. The sound of the sizzling filled the kitchen and the wonderful smell of hickory smoked bacon flowed through the air. Suddenly there was a body pressed against her back and a thick cock nestled between the globes of her butt. Hands reached around to grope her heavy tits.
“Wesley,” she squealed. “Not now. You will get your chance after breakfast.”
“But watching you has me hungry already,” he complained. “…and not for food. I want your body, sexy mama!” He squeezed her breasts as he thrust up against her. She could feel the warmth of his throbbing member through his nylon shorts. She could feel her loins stirring in response to his touch and she knew her will power would weaken very quickly if she did not stop him now. She push back and then turned around.
“Not now!” she said, pointing the hot spatula in his face. “You go wake Carsten up and then wait for breakfast.” She watched as he got control of his own desires and thought about his response.
“Okay,” he sighed with a devious smile. “But later on it will go hard with you.”
“Oh God,” she purred. “I hope so.” He left and she returned to cooking. When Carsten came down and saw her he gave a wolf whistle, and she thanked him with a courtesy, and then asked him to get the table ready for breakfast. He also was wearing only a thin pair of shorts that showed his thick member, already on the hunt for action this morning. She smiled as she served the food, knowing today was going to be the most incredible day of sexual fulfillment she had ever known.
“If you guys have had enough,” she said when they were done eating. “I will leave you two to clean up while I will go back to my room.” She rose, and untied the apron. She lifted it slowly over her head, then let it fall, cascading down her body and fluttering to a heap at her feet. “When you get the kitchen PROPERLY cleaned up, then you can join me in my room.” She turned around so they could feast their eyes on her body, paused, and slowly walked towards the stairs. “Don’t be too long.” They burst into action and she hoped they would not break anything as she went up to her room.
She arrived and thought about how to greet them. She removed her heels and set them in the closet, then lay down in the middle of the bed. As she made herself comfortable, she heard Carsten yell “Wait a minute!” and someone’s feet running up the stairs. Wesley stopped at the doorway, looking at his mother lying provocatively on the bed. Then he dropped his shorts on the floor and climbed onto the bed.
Carsten had been delayed by having to take the garbage out, so when he got to Mary’s bedroom, Wesley was already on the bed. He and his mom were lying on her bed face to face, French kissing as their hands roamed each other’s bodies. Carsten dropped his shorts on the floor and moved to the other side of the bed. He joined then on the bed and slid himself across so his body pressed against her naked backside. After aligning his cock to rest between her ass cheeks, pressed forward and began nibbling on the soft skin of her shoulder and neck while softly caressing her hip and abdomen.
“O goody,” Mary moaned. “My other lover-boy is here.” Breaking her kiss with her son, she rotated her upper body around and, reaching a hand to his face, pulled her step-son’s head to her lips for an erotic kiss, tongues smashing together in passion.
Wesley placed his hands on his mother’s hips and rotated her lower body towards his older step-brother until she was lying on her back between the two young men. Presented with her exposed front, he started kissing his way down her body; his first stop was her partially covered right breast. With the nipple exposed in the shelf bra, he went there first, licking and sucking on it, then scraping his teeth gently on her flesh. Mary moaned at the pleasure even as she continued kissing Carsten.
“Ah, Wesley,” she sighed as she broke her kiss with Carsten. “I love having you back at my breast.” She ran the fingers of her free hand through Wesley’s blond hair, then tightened her grip and pulled him forward, pressing his mouth deeper into her breast flesh. As she returned to kiss Carsten, her other hand reached down and found his hard cock pressed against her hip. She wrapped her hand around it, feeling its warmth and firmness.
Wesley lifted his head and Mary eased her grip on his head. He moved to her cleavage, exploring the deep valley between her breasts. The soft flesh on either side of his face was flush but soft, the miracle of mammary flesh. After a few moments he continued moving down further, kissing over her lower rib cage and across his mother’s abdomen on his path towards the focus of her sexual pleasure.
Carsten noticed that Wesley had left her breasts, so he broke contact with her mouth and began kissing and sucking on her left breast. He maneuvered his tongue around the circumference of the areola, raising each little nub and causing it to swell. Only then did he take the nipple into his mouth, sucking gently on it as he caressed it with his tongue. When he felt he had completed his work there, he shifted over to her left breast to provide the same treatment. As his step-brother’s exploration moved down to her pussy, Carsten placed a hand on her flat belly, using his fingers to lightly caress it and apply light pressure to her womb and bladder.
With her body already shivering with pleasure moaning in expectation of future carnalities, Mary was captivated with what delight her son and step-son were giving her. She knew that the result would be an incredible series of orgasms, but this trip up the mountain to the climax was wonderfully pleasurable on its own. Part of her wanted it to go on like this forever, but she also wanted to cum…and maybe cum again.
As Wesley shifted his body between his mother’s legs, he lowered himself until his face was nestled between her thighs and brought his face to her pussy. Her labia were already swollen and the inner folds glistened with juice; there was even a droplet seeping out at the bottom. He started from that point, capturing that droplet before licking her pussy lips carefully from the bottom all the way to the top. His Mom’s pussy was fresh and clean and was an incredible delicious treat. Although it was not the first time he had tasted her vaginal fluids, each time over the last few days he had enjoyed it more and more. Finishing the trip up, he twisted his head sideways and slid his tongue between the lips and into the depths.
“Ohhh! Wesley!” his mother groaned. She lifted her head to look past Carsten suckling her chest to watch her own son begin to earnestly devour her pussy, dredging his wet tongue through her even wetter inner labia. “Oh yesss…lick my pussy.”
Wesley looked up to see his mother’s eyes on him as his ears were filled with her sexy language. He saw the flames of desire burning in her eyes and returned to giving his mother the oral sexual pleasure that she wanted. She was the best tasting and most responsive woman he had ever done cunnilingus on and he thoroughly enjoyed every moment of it. The fact that it was his own mother was incredibly kinky and even more appealing. Of course, licking her ass was right up there too. His mother’s voice broke his train of thought
“Carsten,” Mary said plaintively as she nudged her step-son’s head as he continued to focus on her tits. “I want to suck your delicious cock.”
“Yours to command,” he answer with a smile. He moved up and kissed her briefly on the mouth, then lifted his body to a kneeling position. He moved forward on his knees until his cock touched her blond hair. Mary smiled at him and turned her head towards the impressive manhood. Wrapping her fingers securely around the base of his cock, she opened her mouth and simply engulfed his bloated cockhead. Carsten gasped as that first sensation sent shivers through his body. He leaned forward as she started a very agreeable sucking motion, sliding her succulent lips up and down his thick shaft.
“Mmm,” Carsten groaned. “You sure know how to suck cock.” He moved a bit closer so she could get more in her mouth. Her response was to try to take more in her mouth and suck it harder.
It was strange but she really did enjoy sucking cock, especially her boys’ cocks. There was a physical pleasure in having a warm hard shaft in her mouth and it always seemed to make her pussy heat up. The actual act of sucking Carsten’s or Wesley’s hard cock and having their cum in her mouth when they ejaculated filled her with pleasure, kinky though it may be. Maybe it was the “wrongness” of it all that made her enjoy it so much. Of course she had done fellatio many times before and had learned to let them ejaculate in her mouth, but with the boys it felt like she was receiving as much pleasure as she was giving.
Mary’s mouth went further down the older boy’s long cock, as she tried getting even more of it in her mouth. No one spoke for a few moments as two mouths were fully employed at the time. But even in that quiet, there was heavy breathing and an occasional slurping sound as someone sucked up extra juice. Wesley was content eating his mother’s pussy, while Carsten was focused on holding back his orgasm from his step-mother’s incredible blow job. Mary was in the middle and her concentration on the cock in her mouth held off the building pressure for orgasm coming from her son’s very talented pussy licking.
But Wesley could tell that his mother was highly aroused and the way she was devouring Carsten’s cock was arousing enough to watch so he was sure that Carsten would not last much longer. Even as he looked up, he saw his mother take a deep breath and press forward, getting almost all of that shaft into her mouth. At the same time her hand went under his hairy scrotum and reached up to tickle his perineum or even his anus. Wesley could not see which she touched but Carsten’s toes curled up and he tensed.
“OH Fuck! I’m gonna cum soon!” Carsten groaned. “You’re such a fantastic cocksucker!” Mary gurgled something in reply and backed her mouth back down. She started moving her head up and down his shaft, enthusiastically using her mouth to fuck his cock. The fingers she had on his cock-root tightened, and she started jacking his prick as she swirled her tongue around the mushroom-shaped head. She was frantic with hunger for the spurting load of cum she knew was about to shoot from the end of the man-meat.
” Cumming, cumming!” He shouted, thrusting his hips forward. Mary stopped moving as a great cascade of spunk discharged from his cock, squirting and splattering in her mouth. She swallowed the first delivery and clung to the cream-shooting shaft, adoring the taste of her step-son’s seed. She sucked and swallowed again, wanting to get every droplet of salty cream from the crown of his cock meat.
There was a small surge in fluid from Mary’s cunt, and it was then that Wesley decided to really attack his mother’s cunt. He moved a hand up and straightening two fingers, slipped them into the narrow, velvety inside of Mary’s fuck-hole. Mary gasped as her son started jacking her off, pounding his fingers steadily in and out of her wet hole. Mary’s clit was swollen and red, projecting from its shroud at the top of her labia. Wesley enveloped it with his lips and sucked hard, puckering his cheeks inward to create the vacuum.
The combination of a mouth full of cum and her son’s attack on her clit was way too much for her. Her big tits shook as she lifted her ass off the bed, trying to fuck her wet, hairy pussy onto Wesley’s mouth and fingers. She opened her mouth to release Carsten’s cock and cried out.
“My clit!” she screamed. Then “I’m cumming now, cuuummmiiinnngggg!” Mary’s aching vagina spasmed and throbbed in a long, violent cum that controlled her whole body. Wesley moved his mouth away as she shot clear fluid out, soaking his chest. He kept his hand active, feverishly finger-fucking her as a second wave of orgasm made her thrash wildly on the bed. When she slowed her moving he started to speed up again but she grabbed his hand and tore it from her body as she continued to shake.
“No more!” she hissed at him, bringing her legs together. “No more, please!” She held her legs firmly together as they shivered like she was suffering from hypothermia. She rolled away from the boys onto her side, her hand pressed on her pubic area and she shivered for a few minutes. Carsten sat back on his feet and breathed heavily as the last dribbles of cum oozed from the end of his still large shaft.
Wesley realized he was the only one with energy…and he was the only one who did not get to cum yet. On his knees, he moved closer to his mother, reaching out to gently caress her hip and leg. She flinched at his touch, then took a deep shuddering breath and relaxed. He moved closer until his jutting member touched the back of her thighs. She reach out and touched his chest as she turned her head towards him.
“I know what you need, honey,” she said softly. “But can you start gently? I need some recovery.”
“I can wait if it’s too much for you Mom,” Wesley said, although he really did not mean it. He did not want to hurt her but, damn, he needed to cum too. She bent her top leg, bringing her knee up and offering a straddle ride from behind, one of her favorite positions.
“I just need you to be really slow and gentle to start,” she groaned. Wesley straddled her lower leg and moved up, guiding his hard cock into her already swollen and wet cunt lips. Mary looked up in concern as he mounted her, worried that too much of this could be dangerous but always wanting more, especially with her son. The horny blonde watched him as she felt her tight pussy yielding to the spongy tip of his cock. As her cuntal walls spasmed at the additional stimulation, he pushed forward and slid most of his cock into her wet hole.
“O God…Noooo!” she yelled as another wave of orgasm overtook her body. She shook as the nervious energy coursed through her body. Wesley just held in place, forcing himself not to respond as he watched her enormous, stiff-nippled tits jiggle with her body.
He waited until she took that deep, relaxing breath again and pushed forward to sink his cock farther into her cunt. At first, he started fucking slowly, moving his lean young body back and forth in a slow rhythm, stroking her pussy soothingly as his aching prick moved in and out of the rich warmth of her vagina. Mary could not resist humping back to meet his strokes, pushing her wet, clinging pussy onto the substantial stiffness of his cock.
“Yessss!” she hissed as him, shuddering as his wonderful cock sank farther into the hole he was born out of. Mary had not felt him hard against her ass yet and knew there was more of him, more that he hadn’t buried inside her. She had a sudden and frantic need to feel every inch of his thick manhood thrusting into her pussy, stuffing her womb with thick cock.
Wesley sensed that he now had permission to fuck her hard and very deep and went for it. His mother grunted as the prick rammed all the way into her belly, reaching the depths of her womb. Carsten watch as his step brother started to fuck his mother like a wild man, dripping sweat on her as he drilled her pussy as fast and hard as he could.
“Fuck me, fuck meeee!” Mary yelled. Her body seemed to throb uncontrollably and her vagina muscles gripped and sucked at the pounding shaft inside her. Repeatedly the big organ rammed into her, widening her hairy cunt gash each time he crammed his meat in to the base. Wesley’s hand were on her hip and ass, clawing at her to get more leverage as he fucked her as hard as he could. It was a relentless punishment of pleasure as he toiled above her sweat-glistening body, packing his cock into her abdomen with the stiffness of his cock.
“Unngggh….Yessss….Wesley….Yes!” Mary could feel another orgasm welling up deep inside her, making her gooey pussy suck more around her son’s cock. Carsten started squeezing his own cock as he watched Mary’s face contort with raw passion. She rolled her head from side to side on the bed and started humping back in a frenzy of desire, forsaking all control as she fanatically shoved her pussy back on to his pounding shaft.
“Fuck meeeeee!” she screamed. “I’m cuuummiiinngg!” Her pussy spasmed violently in orgasm, her juices gushing out of her ravished hole, the hair edged lips splayed in open acceptance of the pounding cockshaft of her son. Wesley’s plan was to keep fucking her as hard as he could right through her orgasm, but he felt the semen rising from his balls.
Through clenched teeth he grunted “Take my cum…now!” as he gave two more tremendously deep thrusts. With a strong grasp on her hip, he made his deepest possible penetration and let his semen explode deep inside his mother. His penis pulsed as another spurt surged out the tip, each movement initiating another wave of orgasmic power in Mary’s ongoing climax. Wesley held himself deep inside her for almost thirty seconds while his own body surged, then he collapsed forward to rest alongside his mother on the bed.
Carsten was the first to speak. “Wow guys,” he said, sitting back to rest on the pillows. That was incredible.”
“Yeah,” Wesley said shakily, still panting to catch his breath. “That was really good.” They both laughed, then looked at Mary. She lay in the bed with her eyes closed, breathing very heavy.
“Mom?” Wesley asked. “Are you okay?” She nodded yes but did not open her eyes. “Do you need us to do anything?” Her head shook side to side. “Can we get you anything?” He got the same response. Then her eyes open just a bit and her hand reached out to him. “Just let me rest a bit,” she whispered. “I’ll be okay in a while.” Wesley & Carsten looked at each other and shrugged, then got up and left. Carsten picked up his shorts and went out. Wesley did the same and went to the bathroom to wash up. He met Carsten downstairs in the kitchen getting something to drink.
“So what’s next?” he asked. Carsten paused a moment before replying.
“Well, with two of us and one of her, it seems like we should try double penetration. After all, you’ve already fucked her ass before.”
“Did you?” Wesley asked.
“I haven’t had a chance since you told me about it. I think she is afraid to let me back there.”
“Oh yeah…like you’re sooo much bigger than me.”
“So should we go back up now?” Wesley asked.
“Bring her something to drink,” Carsten directed. “I’ll go up and wash her up and see how she is.”
“Don’t start without me this time.” Carsten just waved his hand, downed his drink and left. Wesley got himself a drink of water and then made his mother a glass as well. When he returned to the room, he found his mother laying spread eagle on the bed as Carsten gently wiped her down with a washcloth that he rinsed in a bowl regularly. As he finished and got off the bed, she opened her eyes and saw the glass in Wesley’s hand.
“Please!” she croaked and reached out for it. Wesley handed it to her and she drank the whole glass quickly. When she finished, she gave the glass back and lay back on the bed.
“So what is your plan?” she asked them both. “Carsten said you guys had a plan but would not tell me what it is.”
“Well Mom,” Wesley said hesitantly. “Since you have two holes down there and we have two hard cocks for you, we figured…” Carsten watched her carefully for a reaction.
Mary remained still, her hard nipples tingling and her pussy juices starting to flow as a gradual comprehension of the incestuous sex that they were suggesting. The final fragments of her morality said this was a bad idea, that letting Carsten and her own offspring double-fuck her would be total depravity. But the second voice in her head told her this was exactly what she wanted from them. Why else had she anticipated this all week? Mary had never been double-fucked before and despite the nearly continuous sex she had experienced over the last few weeks, her body was already responding to the idea of being stretched by two big, meaty cocks at the same time.
Mary smiled, and whispered “I want it…I want it all.” Carsten smiled at her, stripped his shorts off and joined her on the bed. This time he stretched out on his back next to her with his penis extending nicely over his abdomen. Mary looked up at her own son and he nodded at her. She compliantly did what the boys wanted and mounted her step-son, setting her knees on the covers to each side of his hips. She reached down to grasp his cock in her hand and directing the thick shaft into her cunt as she lowered her body down.
“It feels so big going in.” Mary whispered, then looked up at the mirror and saw her son watching. “Wesley,” she hissed. “Do you like to see my pussy spreading around Carsten’s prick?” Wesley dropped his short as he watched, his own prick springing up large and erect as waited to bury it deep into his mother’s ass. Mary scowled as Carsten’s big prick stretched the juicy walls of her vagina, using her muscles to grip the invader as is slid in. She reached up and put her hands on his shoulders, using them for leverage as she wiggled her ass down, forcing the stiff cock fully up her buttery cunt.
When her weight rested on his hips, Carsten began moving, shoving his erection into her pussy and then pulling it back. Mary felt it rubbing deep inside the depths of her belly and she shivered, then pushed back down as she forced his prick all the way back in. Then her patience was gone and she commenced humping fast and hard, battering her pussy up and down on her step-son’s wonderfully filling prick.
“Umpf…Fuck me,” she gasped. “Yes…Fuck me! Stuff…it…in…my…cunt…Carsten!” Wesley was amazed at the transformation in his mother. She was completely changed into a completely sexual creature and was now verbalizing every depraved thought. He watched as their motion fell into a quick, urgent pattern where Carsten using his hands on her hips to pull her down into each upward thrust of his hips. His mother’s huge breasts swayed over his step-brother’s sweaty chest as she thumped her hungry pussy down on his cock over and over. Wesley decided it was his time as well.
Mary sensed the bed move behind her and recognized that her son was on moving onto the bed. She stopped her pounding and lowered herself to rest on Carsten’s chest, her soft breasts crushed between them, so her rear was raised up and presented to her son as she awaiting the initial entrance of her own son’s manhood into her anus. With one hand, she reached back and grasped her left ass cheek, pulling it to the side and opening her crack to expose her anal wrinkle to her horny son.
Wesley licked his finger liberally, then touched his wet finger to her little pucker. Mary whimpered and wiggled back and forth as her boy started to rub his saliva all over her little anus. He straightened his finger and pushed against the opening, gently easing it into the gripping inside of his mother’s rectum. His mother groaned and pushed back a little, wanting it deeper but being careful not to dislodge Carsten’s thick cock from her pussy. When his finger slid smoothly in and out, her tried his thumb, which her ass accepted easily now.
“That should be good, Wesley,” Mary said. “I’m ready now!” Wesley moved up behind his naked mother, making sure he did not put his knees on anyone else’s legs on the bed, He moved forward, directing his swollen glans at her glistening little anus. Mary gasped as she felt the sharp pleasure/pain of the first pressure against her sphincter. The pain got worse and then suddenly changed to bliss as his wide cockhead made it past her tight ring of muscles. She grunted as his cock plowed into her bowels, spreading her itchy asshole around the thickness of his prick.
Mary bit her lip and grunted again, suppressing the slight pain she felt as her rectum opened to accommodate his entire cock. The first part of his cock moved into her rear easily, but Wesley was moving slowly in and out to force the rest in. His mother started humping back, wiggling her ass from side to side as well to help her son stuff his shaft into her ass.
“Oh crap!” she gasped. “It feels so big back there!” Wesley started a good fucking movement, finding himself moaning with delight as he felt his mother’s tight asshole squeezing tightly around his prick. Mary had never felt so full; although she had experienced each cock in turn, having them in her pussy and asshole simultaneously made them feel so much larger. There was only a thin sensitive membrane separated her vagina and rectum, and with both cocks rubbing against it, the full volume of cockflesh inside her expanded outward. The curious thing was that being full did not satiate her carnal desire but in fact she felt overwhelmed with the primitive need to be fuck. Fanatically she started thrusting herself back onto the two cocks in her body, moving up and down and back and forth to thrust her cunt onto Carsten’s prick one direction and her ass onto Wesley’s prick the other.
Wesley grunted as he moved his ass, forcing his cock all the way past the rubber tightness of his mother’s sphincter and into her rectum. It was difficult to find her frantic rhythm but he tried to keep drilling his aching cock through the stretched ring of her anus so he could enjoy the pressurized warmth of her bowels surrounding his penis. Carsten was struggling even more with his movement restricted, but was managing to keep his long shaft burrowing inside her pussy.
“Fuck my…pussy…fuck my…ass!” Mary yelled. She was screaming out the words now, her whole entity filled with the most intense pleasure she’d ever felt, yet craving more. The sweat glistened on her body as she moved frantically between them, her large tits jiggling back and forth as her desperately rode for the finish line.
“Ungggh…feels…so…good!” Mary cried. “Fuck…me! Please…fuck…meeeeee!” Her eye makeup ran from her eyes as the tears ran down her face. Her beautiful face was contorted in ugly desire as she thrashed about on the two pricks inside her. Wesley grunted and pushed down hard to force every bit of his cum-laden erection into the sucking grip of his mother’s bowels. Carsten could feel his step-brother’s dick rubbing against his own through the membrane, and the tightening spasms of her vaginal muscles as she approached her orgasm.
Mary had experiment with many sexual variations between college and two very sexually active husbands, but she had never really experienced double-fucking. The two cocks stuffed inside her together made each feel bigger, cramming her belly entirely with hot cock meat. Mary started humping fast and hard, desperately trying to fuck both of the big pricks at once.
“Fuck me…fuck meeee!” she howled. “I need…to cum…so…much!” Wesley was fucking his naked blond mother hard now, cramming his prick in and out of her fleshy ass. Carsten was below her, pushing his hips up to meet Wesley’s rhythm as he drilled his cock in and out of his step-mother. As he drove harder, his prick swelled even more in the clinging grip of Mary’s pulsating cunt, growing close to showering her womb with semen. The mother’s frantic screams and movements drove both young studs to hammer as hard as they could, pushing Mary to the pinnacle of ecstasy.
“I’m cumming!” Mary cried suddenly. Clear liquid squirted from her pussy and poured down their bodies. A moment later the orgasm erupted brutally deep inside her belly, burning through her pussy and asshole, making her fuck holes spasm tighter around their cocks. Mary thrashed about between their bodies, her mouth babbling loudly.
“Unnggggh! Oh, shit, I love it! Cumming now! Unh, unh, cuuummmiiinnnggg!” Carsten cried out as well and with incredible strength, thrust his hips high off the bed, slamming his prick deep in Mary’s spewing pussy and lifting all of them up off the bed. Although she was already deep into her own climax, Mary howled with intense satisfaction as milky semen spewed out of Carsten’s cock and flooded deep inside her cunt. Carsten drained his load into his step-mother.
Wesley rammed back down hard, sinking his own prick deep into his mother’s ass as he started cumming too. His load of cum squirted deep inside the blond’ s quivering ass and Mary’s orgasm redoubled itself. She howled once again as the waves of pleasure became painful in intensity, her rear tunnel being showered with more jizm. Her frantic movements kept bucking and humping between the two cocks, creating more intense feelings until she could not control herself at all.
“Stop…PLEASE!” she yelled. “Make it stop!” Wesley heard her and tried to back away, his cock easing out of her until she pulled away with a painful motion. He rolled away to the left and Mary rolled off Carsten to the right, his cock slapping wetly on his belly as she pulled away. She slid off the bed and curled up on the floor, her body quivering with wave after wave of orgasm. As she lay there on her side, Wesley watched her exposed bottom as his own cum oozed from her anus and down the cheek of her ass, while a parallel stream of cum flowed out of her swollen and red pussy lips and across her thigh to pool on the floor behind her.
As she lay on the floor waiting for her body to stop shaking, she was dimly aware of her son covering her with a blanket. The carpet was soft beneath her skin, and she felt the vibrations as the boys walked away. She knew that she had cum running out of her body, her face was a mess, and she was out of control. She understood now more than ever why the French called it “le petit mort’” the little death, for she felt like she had died. And yet, she knew that she would want to do it again…soon. She knew that the two young studs could get their cocks hard and ready to fuck her in short notice. There was no way for her to curtail the passion for sex that she had discovered and she did not want to. She just wanted to live for the ecstasy of having her pussy and asshole sucked, pumped or cum in; by either of the boys…or both. She drifted off to sleep.
Later, Mary rose up from the carpeted floor and shakily made her way to the bathroom. Ten minutes with washcloth, towel, and douche and she felt much better. Then she looked in the mirror and saw what wreckage her face had become. That took another fifteen minutes to fix. She was starving and wondered what she should put on to cover her body before going downstairs.
“Fuck it!” she said to herself. The house backed up to the woods so no one could see in the kitchen windows; the boys already were intimately aware of her body so there was no hiding it from them now. She put her high heeled sandals back on and went down the stairs. She found the kitchen table laid out with cheese and cold cuts, bread, crackers, and chips; a mini lunch buffet. As she walked into the room, she saw the boys watching television in the den, both wearing their shorts again. They saw her walk into the kitchen and stared at her big tits as they bounced freely with each step she took.
“Rock on, Mom!” Wesley said in appreciation. Carsten agreed.
“Thank you for making lunch,” she purred. “Did you eat yet?”
“Yeah,” Wesley answered. “It’s all for you.” Mary started to put together a sandwich and as she touched and smelled the food, she realized how ravenously hungry she was. She put together a full plate of food and devoured it, drinking two glasses of milk in the process.
Finally satisfied for food, she cleaned up the kitchen, knowing that the boys were watching her naked body move about. When she was finished, she filled a large mug with ice water to take back up to the bedroom. As she moved to the bottom of the stairs, she looked at the boys.
‘So boys’” she said seductively. “Which one of you am I going to play with next?” She turned and walked up the stairs, accentuating her hip sway and pushing her rounded ass right at them. She heard the rush to the stairs and hurried into her room with the boys right behind. She set her drink down and turned, stepping right up to Carsten. She put her hand on his chest, enjoying the sensation of his beating heart under her hand.
“I am going to fuck your brains out, baby!’ she told him. Carsten’s eyes widened and he leaned in to kiss her hard while she reached down to squeeze his cock as it regained full erection. He pushed Mary back so she fell back onto her bed and then covered her with his naked body. They rolled around on the bed at first, their hands wandering over all the exposed flesh until finally she was on her back on the bed and Carsten was between her legs, his cock searching for the entrance to her lair once more.
The blond mother spread her legs wide, kicking her shoes off as she reached down to guide his cock. She positioned his cock between her labia and let him thrust his cock head up and down her pussy entrance for a while. Then she took his cock and directed the swollen head into her depths. She let go of Carsten’s penis and wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Okay…Give it to me,” she demanded. “Fuck me!’ Carsten did exactly as she directed and rammed his log shaft all the way home, causing Mary to scream. After the scream she could not get her breath…it felt like he had punched his shaft into her diaphragm. She took a big gasping breath, then another. When she got her breath back, she lifted her legs and tried to wrap them around his ass, but he was pounding her too fast. Mary’s head rolled side to side as he drove his cock all the way inside her, the wiry pubic hair at the root of his shaft scratching her clit with each thrust. Carsten’s hips moved like the drive rods of a steam engine as he kept fucking his step-mother.
Even with all the sex Mary had experienced in the last few hours, she was amazed at the intensity with which her 22-year old step-son was fucking her. There was an orgasm developing inside her as Carsten harshly plunged his cock into her again and again. She wished she could slow him down but the pace of the pounding and the pre-orgasmic surges prevented her from doing anything except receiving the fucking.
Carsten shifted up just a bit and Mary gasped as the young man ground his groin against her crotch, the hard penis probing into her deepest, most sensitive spots. His cock seemed to find her sweet spots, spots she had not known could be reached. She tried to think about that but the sensations drove analytical thought from her mind. She raised her legs, using her hands to pull her knees up and out, and his movements quickened as she twisted her pelvis forward to meet the pounding she was getting…and loving.
“God yes,” Mary sobbed. “Fuck me…fuck me good!” With a growl, Carsten was like a wild cat servicing a bitch in heat and pounding her with his throbbing penis. Mary used her arms and legs to open herself up to the thrusting, desperate to pull as much of him inside her as possible. It felt to her that he was penetrating her so deep that Carsten’s cock was pushing into her cervix.
‘That’s it…yeeeesss,” the frantic blond screamed, pushing up to receive his thrusts. “Fuuuck that’s deep!!” Her son Wesley watched from the side like a tag team member, waiting his turn. He and Carsten had agreed to fuck her as long as possible, taking turns to give her orgasms while not cumming themselves, and Wesley was concerned that his step-brother would not be able to stop. Sharing one woman was cool and kind of kinky, but neither really wanted to fuck through the other’s cum.
Suddenly the dam burst in Mary and loud wail came from her throat and she began to shake as her orgasm took her. She screamed in sheer carnal delight as Carsten pressed deep into her body, crushing her into the bed. Even as she sobbed and cried out in ecstasy, she wanted more. She fought with herself to keep her vaginal muscles clamped around his cock, trying to milk the semen from his body. Carsten felt that squeezing and knew he would not be able to resist; he quickly pulled back, ripping his long cock from her with a sloppy squelching sound before he reached the point of no return.
Before reading: This is Chapter 1 of a larger story. The full story will primarily contain themes of voyeurism, but will also include some bisexual exploration (male-on-male). If you are repulsed by that, this is a fair warning. There is no male-on-male contact in this particular chapter, but I will include a disclaimer on the chapters that do contain it, in case you wish to simply skip over them.
Music To My Ears
Things were not going well for me. I was always a terrible student in high school. I ditched school when I could and slept in class when I couldn’t. I should’ve known it wouldn’t be any different when I started going to the community college up the road. I had spent weeks trying to convince my mom that I could live on my own in a studio apartment near the college, that I can go to school full-time while easily paying the $475/month rent with the money I can make delivering pizzas a few hours a week. You may not know it, but boy do those tips really add up. I don’t want to keep boring you with the details, but long story short: I never got a job, I lost all drive to attend classes in the first month, flunked out, and had to move back in with my mother, tail between my legs. All that talk about me being able to handle independence was a colossal joke. I am a 19-year-old loser living with 46-year-old mom.
My mother divorced my dad when I was young. I see my dad once in a while, but he lives pretty far out of town. I don’t spend more than a few nights at his place because well, no offense to my dad, but he can’t afford another mouth to feed, and he’s not exactly much fun to be around. Anyways, my mom never remarried. She became very focused on her real estate career and she has done quite well for herself, but her dedication to her work is probably the reason she has only dated a handful of men after the divorce, and the longest any of those relationships lasted was a few months shy of a year. Her boyfriends were always her age, held respectful jobs, and had typical hobbies and interests. Her boyfriends were nothing special… that is, until J.R. came along.
My first time “meeting” J.R. was after my mom’s first date with him. She got dolled up as she usually does for dates, left the house alone around 6 pm, and I sat at home keeping myself entertained with video games in my room, occasionally helping myself to some snacks in the kitchen. Around 10 pm I figured I should make an early night of it because I had to get up at a reasonable hour the next day to start applying for shitty jobs. I turned off the TV, turned off the lights and hopped in bed. Minutes later, I heard the car pull up. I didn’t think anything of it until I heard two voices exiting the car. Keep in mind, first dates for my mom always ended with the two exchanging a friendly kiss (or so I’m told) in the parking lot of whatever fancy restaurant they went to, and heading back to their respective homes and scheduling a second date (or not). Bringing her date to our house generally didn’t happen until they’ve been dating for at least a month. Needless to say, she likes to take things slow. So I couldn’t help but peek out my window, which overlooks the driveway, to see who she was bringing home on the first date.
J.R. is a slightly older man. His hair has grayed and he has just a little bit of a pudgy gut. He dresses well and looks pretty well-groomed. His voice is a bit deep as well. That was about as much as I could glean from him from watching and listening out my window, but keeping my head fairly low.
Only, it was J.R. stepping out of the driver’s seat, and opening the passenger side door like a gentleman to let my mom out. After she stepped out and he closed the door, J.R. gently pushed her up against the side of the car with his body and started running his hands all over her. Mom was giggling like crazy. I could tell she had a bit to drink that night. J.R. quickly silenced her giggling when he slipped his tongue in her mouth, turning giggles into little moans. He had one hand practically mauling one of her breasts, and his other was squeezing her ass. Their little session ended quickly as they headed into the house. I sat by my bedroom to eavesdrop. I wasn’t sure exactly why I was so interested, but I wasn’t about to stop and question it.
“Honey, my friend J.R. had a little too much to drink so I gave him a lift and I’m letting him crash here!” She shouted up the stairs after coming into the house. That was bullshit because if that was the case, she’d had driven him to HIS place. And, you know, I saw that J.R. was the one driving. I didn’t reply.
“Shhh, Carol, he’s probably asleep, you goofball.” I heard J.R. mutter.
After what I can only imagine was some more playful groping and giggling, I heard my mom’s bedroom door slam. I never had much luck with the girls, but of course I always considered myself as having a normal sexuality, and yet I could not begin to comprehend why my dick got so hard and so fast at the realization that my mom is about to get plowed after a first date a few yards away from me. My heart was pounding so hard I could feel it in my face. I was going crazy. I waited a few minutes after that door shut, opened my door slowly, and began slowly, stealthily crawling my way downstairs, across the house, and towards my mom’s bedroom door, being careful not to cause any creaking sounds. I got quite good at that from the many times I snuck out of the house in the middle of the night to hang out with friends.
I wouldn’t dare try to open that door. As long as I’ve lived there, I’ve always known it to be the creakiest door in the house. You could probably breathe on it and it would creak. I heard the sound of bodies rolling around her bed, the rustling of the sheets. I could hear my mom’s heavy breathing. Then I heard the rattling of the bed frame and the sound of flesh slapping together. Then came her moans. I was rubbing myself outside her door. My cock was so engorged, it hurt. But I couldn’t stop myself. My mom’s moans turned to deep, almost animalistic grunts as the rattling of the bed intensified and became accompanied by a very loud, repetitive knocking sound. My mom was getting fucked so hard, the big heavy slab of wood that is the headboard was being relentlessly slammed into the wall like it was nothing.
I crept away from the door and into the living room, which shares a wall with my mom’s bedroom, and is also the wall against which that bed is positioned. I found the spot on my side of that wall where the knocking sound was loudest. I pressed my ear against it. Holy shit, I could feel the wall bump every time the headboard hit it. Her grunts and moans were so distinct, I could tell her face was mere inches from my ear with only some drywall in between, while this J.R. guy was pounding her from behind. I took my ear off the wall, pressed my whole back against the wall, pulled down my pants and started furiously jacking off to the feeling of the wall thumping and vibrating from the hard fuck my mom was receiving. I knew it was fucked up but nothing could have turned me on more in that moment, not internet porn, not a nude photo of my biggest crush from high school, nothing.
I finished in a matter of seconds, a personal record for me by far. Of course, they weren’t done yet. I returned to the bedroom door, sat down, and listened to them for another 20 or 30 minutes. Granted, he wasn’t banging her hard for the whole duration, but my mom made it pretty clear she was having the time of her life by how, uh… “vocal” she was in there.
Hey readers, hope you enjoy this stand alone story. I hope to be writing more soon. If you like the story, rate it high and comment. The comments are my motivation to keep writing. I also love to get feedback, so please send it! If you include your email, we can chat and figure out new and fun ideas for stories, so don’t hesitate to send. If you’re a fan, thanks, let me know what you want to see more of. If not, first check that my genre of stories are really meant for you, then feel free to message me suggestions or improvements. I’m open to criticism and new fun ideas.
I get why everyone says my mom is smoking hot. She’s young, and with all the money my dad makes, she doesn’t have much to do all day except work out, tone her body, and look nice. But what most people don’t get is how much of a bitch she can be.
I was in the middle of a videogame with my friend Jon when my mom came home carrying some groceries. She must have gone to the gym beforehand, because she was wearing just her black sports bra, skin tight pants, and looked sweaty.
“Drew, can you help me and get the rest of the groceries from the car?” she called to me. Jon and I were right in the middle of a fierce game.
“In a minute,” I yelled back. She was setting down the groceries on the counter.
“No, Drew, now! The milk is going to go bad.”
“I’m in the middle, mom!” I yelled, but she wasn’t having that. She walked right over and stood in the front of the tv. My view of the screen was now completely obstructed by her sweaty flat midriff.
“Mom!” I yelled, as she bent over and unplugged my console from the wall. Putting one small white hand on her curvy hips defiantly, she pointed at the door to the garage and barked, “Now!”
I grumbled all the way to the car and brought in all the groceries, having to take three trips to do so. She bought so much stuff.
When I got back, she was sitting in my place on the couch, reclining, talking to my friend Jon. My mom had always been very friendly to Jon, probably because as a rich white family, we didn’t have a lot of black people in our personal lives.
I hovered over my mom.
“Did you get them all?” she asked me sternly, and I gritted my teeth and nodded. Only then did she giggle and stand up from the couch.
“Well, I feel all gross; I’m going to take a shower,” she called to us both, walking away towards her room, “Bye Jon.”
“Bye Mrs. Brown,” Jon called back. I sat down in my seat; it was all sticky and wet from my mom’s sweaty bare body.
“Fucking bitch,” I mumbled to my friend, “She always fucks everything up.”
“I didn’t really mind,” my friend returned, grinning, “I like talking to her.”
“Yeah, yeah, your stupid crush.”
“It’s not a stupid crush,” Jon said, “Your mom is a fine piece of white meat, Drew. Did you see her body in that sports bra? She’s got an amazing toned stomach, like some kind of beach volleyball player. And the jiggle in that tight elastic bra was like she was fucking going through puberty. Not to mention that juicy ass of hers, warm and ripe like a goddamn fuckable peach. I wouldn’t mind taking a bite out of those cheeks.”
“Shut up. You treat her like she’s some hottie from our school, but she’s not, she’s just my bitch mom.”
“Yeah, your bitch mom who I’d like to grab by her curly brown hair and make moan.”
“Damn, you’re really mad, aren’t you?”
“She just orders me around and then responds so disproportionately.”
The sound of her turning on the shower echoed through the room. You could tell Jon was imagining her taking off her sticky gym clothes and running her soft white body under the steamy hot water.
“Well, have you ever tried to do something about it?” Jon asked.
“What do you mean?”
“If you don’t like the way she treats you, have you tried to do something about it?”
“Not fucking really,” I offered, “My dad is always out of town on business, I haven’t seen him in a month so there’s nothing I can really say to him. And since she provides my fucking bed, and cooks my meals, and gives me all my money, I don’t see what else I could do.”
“Have you tried something, well, a little more covert?” Jon grinned.
“I don’t know what you mean,” I said, quizzically.
“You could always fuck with her secretly,” he suggested, “Fart on her pillow. Piss in her shampoo. Cum in her food.”
“That’s fucking disgusting,” I told him, “I’m not cumming in my mom’s food.”
“I’ll do it,” Jon offered a little too eagerly, standing up from his seat and heading to the kitchen. “This is your mom’s coconut milk, right? The one only she drinks?”
“Yeah,” I said, still unsure of what to think as he walked back to the couch carrying it, “It’s not like there’s anyone in this house but me and her, and I’m not drinking any of that healthy crap.”
“That’s good,” he said, sitting back down, “Just let me take care of it then.”
I don’t know why I wasn’t more surprised when Jon whipped out his dick right there. I had never seen my friend’s penis before, but since he was black, I guess I always just expected it was on the larger side. He seemed to have no shame about pouring a little of the milk into his palm and beginning to stroke fiercely his soft black cock.
I opened my mouth to start to offer an objection, but Jon shushed me down. I shrugged. Maybe this would be funny.
For a while, the only sounds were the running hot water, some small echoes of her high pitched singing voice as she washed her body, and the rhythmic slap as Jon beat his meat across from me.
Jon finally broke the silence, asking me strainedly, “Can you hand me that?” He was pointing at a framed photo on the table beside me.
“Uhh, sure,” I said, grabbing it. It was a photo of my mom from the summer, her brown curly hair at her shoulder, big sunglasses over her face, and she was completely bare save for a striking blue bikini that left most of her white fit body exposed.
I handed the image of my mom to my friend, and he licked his lips staring at it. The whoosh of his hand on his cock became louder. I tapped my fingers, waiting patiently and watching my friend beat off, until he flashed me a smile.
“Here we go,” he said, dipping the head of his hard cock into the mouth of the coconut milk jug. Stroking just softly at the base, he writhed his legs and began to cum, and I could hear the splash as the jets of cum hit the liquid in the container, splash after splash after splash.
With the sounds of my mom’s shower still present, he removed his softening cock from the milk jug, and wiped the excess jizz on its lips. “Just making sure we get it all in,” he reassured me.
Putting the cap back onto the jug, he shook it a few times vigorously before putting his spent cock back in his pants and zipping up.
“Perfect,” he said, standing up to return the jug to the refrigerator, “Just wait until she drinks this.”
I allowed myself a hearty laugh. Whatever reservations I had had, they seemed to disappear when I realized how funny this secret punishment would be.
We had started playing another video game when my mom walked in, finished with her shower. Her curly brown hair was still slightly wet, but she had on a casual low cut black-and-white-striped dress that hugged her body tightly and left a fair amount of cleavage with her moderate boobs.
“I think videogame time is over,” she said, coming over the couch, “I want to watch tv.”
“But mom, we just began,” I retorted angrily.
“Hush,” she uttered dismissively, “I need you to start to fix dinner anyway.”
I groaned and stood up, and she took my place on the couch, reclining fully again with the remote.
“You don’t mind Jon, do you?” she asked politely in her cute high pitched voice.
“No ma’am,” answered my grinning friend, who seemed happy to get to stare at her body in that finely fitting dress.
From the kitchen, I could see into the television room where the two watched. I began going through the fridge, filling a pot of water to boil, and fixing a salad. When I looked up, my friend had joined my mom on the couch, her knees bent and curled down to make room for him with her reclined outstretched body. When I had fished the pasta out of the water and strained it, she had switched positions, so that her curly head of hair was now squat in his lap with her feet outstretched to the other side. She was on her side to see the television, which must have given Jon a full view down the cleavage of her dress.
“Well,” Jon said, starting to stand up, patting my mom on her hips so that she’d move her head from his warm lap, “I should be going home. Thanks for letting me spend time over, Mrs. Brown.”
“Don’t mention it,” my mom politely squealed, grabbing a pillow to replace where her head was resting.
“See you later, man,” Jon said to me, winking as I finished making dinner.
A few minutes passed and I had everything ready. My mom stood up lazily from where she had been resting on the couch and sat down at the dinner table. I had everything on the table already.
“Can you grab my coconut milk?” called my mom, sitting down. I froze, but then smiled to myself and grabbed the tampered jug from the fridge.
I ate my pasta slowly, watching her carefully from across the table. So far she had opened the jug, poured its spunky liquid into her glass, but she hadn’t taken a sip. She looked tired, and she twirled her pasta with her fork into small bites.
Finally, she swallowed a small bite, and then reached for the glass. I began to feel nervous, what if she could taste it? What would I say? Should I stop her now? How would I explain myself?
But I was too late. She parted her dainty lips and let the white milk flow into her mouth and down her throat. I could see each gulp as it passed into her body. She downed the glass of my friend’s cum in that one go; she had to pour herself more from the on-hand jug.
Not only did she not seem to notice the tons of jizz my friend had squirted in her beverage, it seemed to wake her up a bit. She smiled at me chipperly after, asked me about my day, and started being not a total bitch to me for the first time all afternoon.
But every time she reached for the glass and took a gulp, I couldn’t help but imagine my friend’s big black cock right next to her mouth. She was opening her gullet and letting him shove that black cock in, convulse between her lips, and send his white sticky seed into her body. Every time she took a sip of his cum, that was all I could see.
The meal finished, my mom offered to finish the dishes, but then she was heading out to meet some friends. I sat with her, her cleavage wobbling in that dress as she cleaned each dish, and then she leaned in to kiss me goodbye before she left.
Reluctantly, I let her plant a big wet one on my cheek, but then the moment she left I scrubbed my face hard in the bathroom.
My mom drank that coconut milk for breakfast, she had a glass with lunch, after the gym, and with dinner. Every time she took it out of the fridge, an evil smile spread across my face as I watched her unwillingly consume all that semen squirted from my friend’s sweaty cock and balls. When I told Jon how much she was drinking, he smiled widely and gave me a big high five.
When she had gulped down the entire jug and started a new one, Jon simply defiled that one too. Every time Jon came over now, we waited until my mom was out of the house or in the other room and I would sit across from Jon as he held the bikini photo of my mom and squeezed out a fat sticky load for her to drink down.
In the next few weeks, not only did my mom not notice that her drinks were full of Jon’s cum, but she seemed to drink even more. I had never really paid attention to how much she drank, but these days, it felt like she was always pouring herself a big glass of my friend’s cum and then licking the excess white milk off her puffy lips.
It became a common sight to come home and see my mom, sweaty and half naked from the gym, gulping down the defiled white liquid right from the jug, a small trail dripping from the corner of her petite mouth.
Jon never seemed to tire of dipping his cockhead into the liquid and filling it up with some warm new nutrients for my mom.
After a few weeks of cumming in her milk, we devised new tricks. Jon came in her shampoo, in her yoghurt containers, in her special margarine and her egg beaters and her salad dressing. Pretty soon, almost everything my mom ate or drank was diluted with the sticky white mess Jon dripped from his cock every time he visited. Pretty soon, I joked, he might as well just ejaculate right onto her face.
There came to be one day, though, when things got too far. I slept in instead of picking up some dry cleaning that my mom needed, and she was so furious that she took my Xbox and sold it on the internet.
“What a goddamn bitch!” I steamed to Jon that afternoon, “I want to punish her fucking so hard for this.”
Jon laughed. “I can make an extra big wad for her today,” he said, eager to start her punishment, “I’ll give her a second serving of nut butter in her cream cheese.”
“No, that’s not going to work this time,” I responded furiously, “We can’t keep being covert. We have to teach her a lesson, show her that she can’t just be such a bitch this time.”
“What, like blackmail her? Get her to buy you a new Xbox?” Jon suggested.
“Yeah, that’s it exactly!”
I started rambling about how we were going to find something on her, something that would put her on her knees in front of us and get her to stop being such a bitch.
“I don’t know what you’re expecting to find,” Jon noted, “Your mom doesn’t do anything except work out.”
I wasn’t sure either. So one Saturday, Jon and I put on some baggy clothes and decided to follow my mom around, see what kind of shit she might be doing. In the early morning, we tailed her to the gym, watching her from a bench across the room. Her fit body moving rhythmically on the treadmill seemed to capture Jon’s attention. When we were up front, he was staring at her jiggling cleavage, glistening with sweat in the tight sports bra. Then from behind, her swaying hips and succulent ass was making my friend drool. I frowned.
We watched her do her exercises, spreading and twisting her body on a yoga mat into all sorts of contortions. She arched her back and stuck her ass in the air. She spread her legs and thrust upwards and down. She even stretched her back such that the tips of her buoyant butt cheeks began to peek out of her elastic pants.
We had to drive extra fast to get back home before she did, but we succeeded. Jon and I sat on the couch, watching her drink down her coconut milk before she sashayed over to her room to strip and take a shower.
When my mom emerged from the shower in a blue blouse tied at her chest so that her middriff was bare, we began to worry that this really was all she did all day. Jon stayed for dinner, watching her spread her tainted margarine onto toast, gulping down his cum in her coconut milk.
After dinner, though, my bare stomach mom told us she was heading out to the mall to do some shopping.
“Now’s our chance,” I said to my friend, hurrying to get in my car and follow her. We had to speed to catch up to her, but we were able to get on her tail.
She parked by a big department store, and Jon stepped out of the passenger door.
“You wait here,” he said, “in case I lose her and she comes out. I’ll go in a track her there.”
I parked in a spot looking over my mom’s empty vehicle, and waited with the engine running.
After a few minutes, he texted me a photo of her alone, going down an escalator. “Keep up the surveillance,” I texted back.
The next photo came a few minutes later: my mom looking at dresses, a pretty saleswoman in a short skirt helping her sort through the walls of clothes. She was carrying a few more bags; it looked like she had bought a few things.
Eventually, Jon sent me a photo from fairly up close of my mom in the beach shop, looking at red, orange, and blue bikinis: small strips of fabric on even smaller hangers. The next shot was her stepping out of a dressing room in just the tiny red bikini, her fit body glowing in the store lights and the handsome young clerk smiling and nodding, urging her to purchase the sexy garment.
Jon didn’t sent me any more messages after that, and I began to worry. I stared back and forth between the empty car and the entrance to the mall.
Finally, when the mall was about to close, out came my smiling mom, walking almost arm and arm with my also-smiling friend Jon. He was carrying a ton of her bags, many of them from the beach shop, and her arms were full too. Under the lights of the empty night parking lot, my big black friend and petite white mom laughed and made their way to her car.
When I was on the road, following my mom back home, Jon finally texted me.
“sry, she saw me and i hd to play it cool”.
“Whatever,” I shrugged, and headed back home after my mom.
When I got in, she was in the kitchen pouring Jon a glass of water and pouring herself a glass of the heavily tainted semen soaked milk. She explained to me how funny it was to run into my friend at the mall, and how much of a charmer he was to help her carry her bags.
My friend grinned as my sexy mom lauded him, and I only slightly frowned.
The next day, my mom was out, and Jon was jacking off into her milk. This time, he used the photos of her on his phone from the day before, showing me how many more he had taken once my mother had noticed him and enlisted his help in picking out swimsuits.
He had photos of my mom in sexy outfits, from the small blue bikinis she loved to some slim party dresses, sexy small gym wear, and even a few in some risque lingerie. My mom played the wonderful model the entire time, giving my friend and his camera a seductive glare, radiant with mature desire.
“So yesterday was a bust,” I said after my friend had finished cumming and stuffed his junk back in his pants.
“Maybe not,” he said to me, smiling.
“Well, I got to spend some nice time with your mom,” he reminded me, “And we were talking a lot. She’s a nice woman, very fun and very sexy. I’m sure she does all kind of embarrassing things that she would eventually dish to me if she and I got closer.”
I thought about his proposal. It felt wrong and dirty to give my blessing for this big black friend to prey on my mother, but I couldn’t think of any good reason to object. And it wasn’t like I could stop him now.
My life changed after that. I almost barely saw my friend anymore. He would still stop by to play maybe one round of games, cum in my mom’s milk, and then say goodbye, but mostly, he was out with my mom. They went to the gym together, she modelled more and more outfits for him. It wasn’t unusual to get a text from her that she and he had gone out to lunch, or to the beach for a day in the sun, or even clubbing late into the night. I remember a time she and he came home, she was piss drunk and stumbling around the kitchen with her dress hiked up nearly to her waist and he was laughing. But every time I asked him if he finally had the information, he just said not yet.
He began spending even more time around my house, just not with me. I would play video games alone, and they would be in her room, the door closed. I wondered how hard he was working to get that information. Sometimes, I would come out of my room in the middle of the night and he would be sleeping on the couch, having spent late nights up with my mother, but eventually, he just slept in her room since my dad was always gone and I’d see him making breakfast in the morning. I asked him what he did in there, behind those closed doors with my mom, but he just told me it was boring stuff and I should wait.
Finally, I had enough. He and my mom were outside by the pool, her in a pink bikini on a lounging chair and he swimming laps around the water. I called for my mom to help me with something inside, when I pulled her aside and confronted her.