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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2007.  Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
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Disrobing Mother
by Dafney Dewitt (vray@uswest.net)
1997

***

A story about a manipulative son and his parents. (MF, 
voy, mc)

***


"Unzip me." 

Mary stares into the crotch of her son's jeans. Her 
surprise at seeing Tommy standing in front of her is so 
complete, she is temporarily rendered mute. She is on 
her hands and knees on the kitchen floor like a dog... 
waiting for a bone. 

With trembling fingers, Mary Drummond fumbles with the 
zipper of son's pants. After pulling it down, she 
stops. 

"Take it out." 

"No, I can't." 

"Why not?" 

"It's wrong." 

Mary knows her position is ridiculous. Saying mother-
son incest is wrong while on her hands and knees on the 
kitchen floor with one breast hanging out of her bra is 
strikes her as absurd. But she knows in her heart that 
it is wrong. She wants Tommy to stop pushing her. She 
wants him to stop tormenting her. With his pants 
unzipped, Tommy starts circling her, like a small dog, 
undecided about how to mount a bitch of a larger breed. 

"Is it wrong?" 

"Yes, it is." Mary says. 

"Then, let's do something right." 

"What?" 

"Phone Dad. Tell him you need him." 

"I can't. We're getting divorced." 

"Him or me, mother's choice." 

Teetering on the brink of incest, Mary takes much too 
long to decide. The pause before answering embarrasses 
her. It makes it appear as if she were considering 
sucking her own son's dick, and letting him fuck her 
like a dog on the kitchen floor. 

"I'll phone," Mary finally answers. 

While she phones, Tommy recites a poem from memory. 

 When there's marriage, 
 without love, 
 there will be love, 
 without marriage, 
 So it is better to love, 
 in spite of faults, 
 then because of virtues.

Charles Drummond hangs up the telephone shaking his 
head. His soon-to-be ex-wife, Mary, has just invited 
him over to talk about a reconciliation. None of this 
makes any sense, but his son, Tommy, had warned him to 
be expecting something unusual. Tommy told him that 
Mary had ridiculed him for being a wimp. 

After dinner, and too many glasses of wine, she 
confessed to Tommy that she needed a more assertive, 
less politically correct man, who took control. She 
wanted a controller, a boundary setter, a master of the 
moment. Charles is none of these things. Wearing 
banker's gray pinstriped suits with his styled 
prematurely gray hair, at 45 years, Charles looks and 
acts like a sophisticated Company Executive Officer 
incapable of anything except the most deferentially 
correct behavior. 

Before Charles Drummond arrives, Tommy tells his mother 
she will have to seduce her husband. He tells her he 
will make an exact measure of the success of her 
efforts, but she will be allowed complete privacy. Mary 
has no idea how Tommy expects to measure the seduction 
without being a witness. She discounts the idea of 
anyone making an exact measure of love as being 
impossibly naive, and unromantic. Charles arrives 
before she has time to ponder the possibilities. 

"I'm glad you could come." Mary greets her husband, 
Charles. 

"You look wonderful," answers Charles looking over his 
wife for the first time in two months. She is dressed 
in a yellow floral print spring dress with a low scoop 
neckline. Her red hair is brushed back and tied with a 
white ribbon. The dress is too short, falling just 
above the knees which gives her a little girl look that 
is accented with bright red coral lipstick and gold 
hoop earrings. Both her dress and demeanor are unlike 
anything Charles can remember. Has Mary changed? 

"Thank you," gushes Mary giving him a quick wet kiss 
directly on the lips. 

Remembering Tommy's comments, Charles Drummond decides 
this is the only opportunity he will have for testing 
Mary's confessed preference for forceful men. He starts 
forcefully, but unsure of himself. 

"Come with me," Charles boldly grabs his wife by the 
hand. He says the words slowly so she can savor the 
sexual implications. He leads her upstairs to their 
bedroom. He is surprised at the lack of protest from 
his wife. Maybe, just maybe, Tommy is right. Inside the 
bedroom, Mary tries to kiss him again, but Charles 
pushes her away. 

"On your knees!" Charles commands never expecting to be 
obeyed. 

Mary sinks to her knees. 

"Unzip me!" 

Mary unzips him. 

"Take it out!" 

Mary gently removes his flaccid penis, letting it hang 
out of his charcoal gray suit. Power pulses through 
Charles. It surges through his body like an electric 
current. His heart thumps as if he had just finished 
running a race. By God! He loves it! Just thinking 
about the control is making him hard. 

He grabs his rapidly growing penis and rubs it boldly 
across Mary's lips. Some of her coral red lipstick 
smears off onto the side of his dick. Just when Charles 
does not think it can get any better, it does. 

From her kneeling position, Mary lifts her green eyes 
upward and gives him an encouraging smile. Looking up 
at her husband's face, Mary smiles thinking how Tommy 
and not Charles is forcing her into sex. Mary imagines 
Tommy as a cupid of love, and her smile broadens. 
Emboldened by this smile, Charles starts talking dirty. 

"Suck me, you bitch!" 

Mary wraps her coral red lips around his fully hardened 
dick. She sucks him with an eager wetness Charles never 
enjoyed in their 18 years of marriage. Sucking on his 
cock like some whore, Mary is going to make him climax 
in no time. Realizing the problem, Charles pushes her 
down on the bed. 

"Spread your legs, you slut!" 

Mary eagerly spreads her legs. Charles thrusts his hand 
under her dress. She is not wearing any panties. He 
probes her with his fingers. She is wet. His fingers 
make a satisfying squishing sound as they plunge into 
her pussy. The feel of his hard bony fingers plunging 
into her cunt awakens Mary's lust. 

"Fuck me. Please fuck me," she begs him. 

"Beg for it, you slut!" 

"Please fuck me!" 

"You want my cock?" 

"Yes, I need your hard hot cock." 

"Take your tits out, you whore!" 

Mary scoops her breasts out of the top of her dress 
pushing them together with her hands. Charles bites the 
nipples on her breasts and slams his cock into her at 
the same time. He is brutal. Taking only what he wants. 
He wastes no time worrying about the pleasures or pains 
of his wife. Forcing her to bend her legs in the air, 
he thrust deeply inside her until the head of his dick 
hits her cervix. He pumps into her without mercy, 
expending much of the pent-up resentment from the 
pending divorce. 

He uses her. It is not an act of love, but neither is 
it rape. It is pure sex for the selfish pleasure of 
only one person, Charles Drummond. He fucks his wife 
mercilessly. He fucks her like a teenager. His climax 
is quick, but long and deep. He floods her cunt with 
his jism. 

Not bothering to kiss or hug his wife, Charles 
immediately withdraws after climaxing. He dresses 
quickly looking with satisfaction at the goo oozing 
from the lips of her pussy. Her knees still bent, Mary 
has made no effort to cover herself. 

"The divorce is off." Charles tells Mary. "I'll have 
the attorneys void the dissolution agreement this 
afternoon." 

Numbed by the assault, Mary parrots his words, "The 
divorce is off," she concedes without protest as 
Charles leaves the bedroom. She is exhausted. Her knees 
tremble. She did not climax, but the emotional tension 
of surrendering to her husband has left her drained. 
Like a cancellation stamp, her sexual submission has 
voided the divorce. 

Mary assembles the pieces in her mind. Tommy will 
measure the success of her seduction by the 
cancellation of the divorce. Without the divorce, he 
will retain his power to blackmail her. The illogical 
thought flickers briefly in Mary's mind that her son, 
Tommy, has fucked her by not fucking her. He has chosen 
incest by proxy. Tommy has fucked his mother through 
his father. Saving the marriage was Tommy's goal from 
the very beginning. Tommy was using sexual blackmail to 
play cupid with his parents. 

All the pieces fit, but Mary is still immobilized with 
doubt. She speculates about Tommy's motives instead of 
cleaning herself up. She can feel the cum oozing out of 
her cunt. 

Without knocking, Tommy enters the bedroom. Embarrassed 
by her position, Mary drops her knees hoping the short 
floral dress will cover the goo between her legs. He is 
carrying a tablespoon, tapping it softly against the 
palm of his hand. Tommy bends down over Mary's head. 
She can see her face reflected on the back of the 
silver spoon. It looks like he's going to kiss her in 
gratitude for cancelling the divorce, but his lips 
slide down the side of her face. With his lips so 
close, she can feel them against her ear, Tommy 
whispers, "From your lips to your lips." 

Mary closes her eyes. The whispering sounds poetic. The 
words tickle her ear. With her eyes closed, Tommy's 
words remind Mary of her wedding vows, "From your hand 
to my hand, with this ring I thee wed". She thinks her 
son is about to recite a poem until he inserts the cold 
metal spoon between her lips. Opening her eyes in 
horror, Mary knows how Tommy will make a precise 
measure of how well she seduced her husband. 

"Time for dessert," Tommy whispers. 

END

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Kristen's collection - Directory 49