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.

Fucking assholes!

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?”

I nodded.

“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.

“Oh shit.”

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 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.”

“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.”

“Joan, I…”

“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?”

- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -

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.

- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -

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.

“You’re kidding?”

“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.”

“Your doll?”

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?”

“Mom… what?”

“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.”



“Oh… okay.”

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.

“For sure?”

“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?”

“I guess.”

“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.”

“Will you?”

“Of course.”

“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.

Gary nodded.

“Tell me,” I demanded.


“You’ll come?”

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.

“I promise.”

“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.

“Mom? Mom?”

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.

“Great, M…”

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.

Gary nodded.

“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.”

“Yes, mother.”

“You promise?”

“Yes, mother.”


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.”

“I know.”

“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.


“There’s more?”


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.

“Not yet.”

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.”

“Make me.”

“No. You have to take it.”

“I can’t.”

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.”

“I can’t.”

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.

“Gary don’t.”

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.”

“Thanks honey.”

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.”

“Sorry Mother.”

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.

“Sorry Mother.”

“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?”

“No Mother.”

“Good boy.”

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.”

“Yes Mother.”

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?”

John nodded.

“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.”

“Okay John.”

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.

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