Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 The following story is a work of fiction.  Its contents are of a
graphically sexual nature and may involve non-consensual sexual acts
between underage partners.  Any resemblance to persons either alive or dead
is purely coincidental.  This story is intended for ADULTS only.  If you
are under the legal age of consent in your local jurisdiction, or if you
are easily offended, kindly STOP READING NOW.

   Insider Information - Sequel to "Implant" - Chapter 3

   By - The StoryMaster

   Sitting at her desk in her office cubical across town, Gwen Morris had
no idea that her youngest son had unearthed the wicked device designed and
built by her first brilliant offspring.  It had been almost five years
since Raymond Morris left for college, and Gwen had tried her best to
forget the dark days prior to his leaving.  The young mother, now
thirty-seven years of age, would have been utterly mortified had she known
that her son, Danny and his young friend now stared curiously at monitor as
several of the values displayed upon it changed.

   Her drunken husband had passed away a little over a year ago, and when
she honestly considered her life today, compared to the tyranny she'd
existed under for so many years with Al Morris, Gwendolyn had to confess
that she really didn't miss the man.

   "Look at that," Stuart said, pointing at the screen.  While the two boys
watched, Danny's mother's Vaginal Temperature rose by a half degree.  "Do
you think 'Vag.' means 'Vagina'?" Stuart asked.

   "Duh!" his friend responded.  "What else would it mean."

   Gwen Morris wasn't a woman who was extremely sexually active.  At her
age, and with her work responsibilities, she had very little time to
"troll".  She was a handsome enough woman, however, and from time to time
she would find companionship in unexpected places.  At the moment, her
thoughts wandered to her recent encounter with one of the management staff.
As a rule, Gwen stayed clear of entanglements with co-workers, but she'd
decided to make an exception for Ed Busch.

   He wasn't bad looking for a middle aged man.  Gwen estimated that he was
in his early fifties.  Although she felt Ed was too old for her to consider
seriously, he did head up a department at work that Gwen very much wanted
to move into.  She'd never asked him, but she assumed that he was married.
That didn't really matter to her, though, because Gwen viewed Ed Busch
strictly as a leg up to a more satisfactory career position.

   His love making abilities were marginal at best, which was fine with
Gwen.  Her deceased husband had been rough and demanding.  Ed, on the other
hand, was considerate and tender, and never asked her to do anything
"unusual".

   Gwen pressed her knees together beneath her desk.  She felt herself
begin to glow, and hoped that no one would walk into her cubicle
unexpectedly.  Gwen squirmed in her seat when she felt a telltale moisture
tickle down the insides of her buttocks.  Like all of the women in her
family, Gwendolyn had rather active Skene's glands.  She'd never discussed
it with her mother, but Gwen assumed the trait sprang from maternal genes.
Her younger sister, Tina had confided in her several years earlier about
what the two girls considered to be a big problem.

   "After all, a girl likes to remain a little mysterious," Tina had
lamented.  "But all it takes is a soft touch or even a wicked thought and
the damn breaks."

   "I know, it's really a problem," Gwen had commiserated.  "But that's
just the way our bodies are built, I suppose."

   On the monitor in her son's bedroom, Gwen Morris' Vaginal Moisture
numbers rose quickly as did her pulse rate and respiration.  Danny and
Stuart really weren't able to comprehend what these numbers represented
since neither young man was sexually experienced yet.  That would soon
change.

   Across town, Gwendolyn Morris slid one hand under her skirt and into her
panties.  Her middle finger slid effortlessly between the ample folds of
her labia majora.  She began to masturbate at her desk, touching herself
gently and delivering rapid flicks of her finger across the small erect
bundle of nerve endings at the very top of her carnal canyon.  Gwen
shuddered in her seat.

   On the monitor, her Vaginal Muscle Activity numbers began to rise
steadily as her internal musculature instinctively contracted and relaxed
in time to her touching.

   Gwen closed her eyes.  Giving in to the moment, she cast away all
thoughts of being discovered by a coworker.  Sliding her hand farther into
her soaking wet panties Gwen sought her vaginal opening.

   Her heart rate and respiration rose rapidly.  In his bedroom miles away,
her son observed his mother's blood pressure escalate as he unwittingly
watched her approach climax.

   Gwen reclined in her seat and threw her head back.  Her blond hair,
which she wore girlishly long, spilled down the back of the swivel chair.
In her mind, Gwen held Ed Busch tightly in her arms.  She squeezed his hips
with her legs, and locked her ankles behind his thighs.  Ed, in his
somewhat lackluster way, made love to her slowly, pausing often to ask her
if she was OK." They always did it in the Missionary Position, nothing
"unusual".  Gwen's hips jerked in a quick spasm when she plunged her middle
finger into her vagina.  Had somebody been in the next cubical, they might
have overheard her groan with pleasure, but fortunately it was unoccupied
at the moment.  Gwen was very, very close.

   Here is what her son, Danny saw:

   Gwen Morris - Harmonic Resonance Value 77 Hz

   Age - 37 Hair - Blond Eyes - Hazel Weight - 130 lbs.  Height - 5'-7"
Pulse - 77 Resp.  - 21 Bp - 118/74 Temp.  - 98.7F Vag.  Temp.  - 99.8F Vag.
Muscle Act.  - 15 Vag.  Moisture - 20 Cervical Dilat.  - 0 Implant Status -
Monitor

   The system measures Vaginal Muscle Activity in "Contractions per
Minute". Vaginal Moisture is a relative figure based upon the individual's
"At Rest" value.  Most females will register "VM's" in the low to mid teens
and "CPM's" in the upper teens to lower twenties at the time of orgasm.  As
you can see, Gwendolyn Morris was off the scale for wetness.  Had her young
son been more familiar with the finer workings of the sophisticated
apparatus, he could actually have tuned in and heard sticky, snapping
sounds picked up by the implant's audio sensor and transmitted to his
terminal's sound system.

   Gwen's hazel eyes opened wide as the first sensual wave washed over her.
Her hips jerked rhythmically.  Then something altogether unexpected
happened.  She'd held Ed Busch in her arms right up to the moment of
climax, but as the tsunami took her, a disturbingly vivid image sprang to
the forefront of her thoughts.  To her utter dismay Gwen saw herself
standing in her own home, her hands braced on the edge of her kitchen
table. In her mind's eye, she turned and looked back over her shoulder. 
Behind her, clutching her wantonly thrusting hips in his hands, stood her
eldest son, Raymond.  Caught up completely in her orgasm, Gwen was unable
to tear her mind from the evil memories of days gone by.

   "That's my girl," Gwen heard a voice say.  In slow motion she turned to
see her husband, Al take a pull off a bottle of vodka as he leered at her
from his seat at the side of the kitchen table.  "You like it when Raymond
fucks you, don't you.  Sure you do, Gwenny.  Just look at your big ass
hoppin' up and down.  Fuck her hard, Ray," he guffawed.  "That's the way
she likes it!" Gwen grunted when her son rammed her unexpectedly.  "She's
gettin' ready to cum, boy," Gwen's wicked deceased husband coached.  "I can
hear that sloppy pussy of hers 'talkin'' to ya from way over here!"

   Try as she might, Gwen couldn't rid herself of the horrible images that
raged through her mind.  Her middle finger flew over the wet and sensitive
flesh between her trembling thighs.

   As the forth and final surge of titillating ecstacy washed over Gwen
there in her office cubicle, in her beleaguered mind she felt her son's
hands begin to tremble as he clutched at her love handles.  Looking over
her shoulder, Gwen saw his eminent climax reflected in his face.  Lines of
perspiration ran down his cheeks, and his black hair was matted and wet on
his high forehead.  Turning away in disgust, Gwen heard him grunt from his
exertion.  His heavy thighs slapped noisily against her buttocks.  It was
as if Raymond was with her now, so real was the imagined sensation of his
hot semen filling her.  As Gwen shuddered helplessly at her desk, in her
kitchen years ago, she stared into the face of her deceased husband.  As
she felt her oldest son's penis jerk inside of her one last time, Al Morris
gave his loving wife a knowing smile then blew her a kiss.
   Continued...