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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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Angela's Diary
by Senor Smut (senorsmut@gmail.com)
***
The tawdry recollections of a suburban housewife led
into a life of sin and debauchery by her wicked son and
her own unquenchable lust. (F/M-teen, reluc, inc, voy,
exh, beast)
***
Chapter One
May 4
It began on a jog. Just as simple and as commonplace as
that. It was a lovely Tuesday afternoon in early spring
and I was out running with my dog Charlie, like we do
every day. We had gone half a mile to the nearest park
and then a mile and a half around the different paths,
and then we took the long way home, so we'd covered
about four miles in all. Just a normal day's run, with
me setting the pace and Charlie keeping up effortlessly
at my side. And after those four miles, we were less
than 200 feet from home when my life changed forever.
I ought to tell you a little about myself and my family
first. My name is Angela Reeves and I'm 35 years old.
My husband Tim and I came from the wrong side of the
tracks, I guess you'd say. We were both lower-middle
class when we met in high school, and we dated a while.
It was nothing serious for either of us, but when he
got me pregnant at the end of senior year we both
decided to see if we could make a go of it and we got
married.
I had sort of vague plans to go on to college for
business, but it didn't break my heart when I had to
get a job to support Tim and the baby, our son David,
as Tim went to school. Tim was always more driven than
I was and more intelligent (I'm not a dummy, and I'm
really sharp with people, but Tim's very smart) and he
had earned a partial academic scholarship to the
University of Minnesota. So while he got his degree in
architecture, I worked in a variety of more-or-less
menial jobs and had another baby, a lovely girl we
named Laurel. It all paid off when Tim got a great job
at a prestigious firm right out of college and we moved
into a beautiful house in Edina, an upscale suburb of
Minneapolis.
Even then, I made a point to keep myself in the best
shape I could (it was a lot easier when I was 19 than
35, I'll tell you that). I was a cheerleader in school
and had the cheerleader's build: long legs, flat tummy,
perky tits that filled out a sweater but weren't huge,
blonde hair that came down past my shoulders.
After David was born I did put on a little weight but I
worked hard to take it off and I managed it, except
that my boobs got a cup bigger and didn't lose any size
when I dropped the baby weight. The weight came off a
little faster after Laurel, but my chest gained half a
size then too, so by now I have a hell of an impressive
pair of tits, if I do say so myself.
I'm not exactly one to show off most of the time (at
least I wasn't until recently) but I do confess that
with my tits has grown an affection for low-cut blouses
and shirts that show plenty of cleavage. You know the
saying: if ya got 'em, flaunt 'em before they hit your
knees.
Tim has always been a fantastic man and a wonderful
husband. He's handsome, smart, hard working, clever,
and a good companion. He's always been there for me
when I needed a shoulder to lean on or an ear to
listen. He gives some of the best advice I've ever
heard, but he doesn't do so casually like too many
people do. He's always been eager to share his part of
the burdens of parenthood, from changing diapers to
working on school projects to attending soccer games.
He's never been close with David (and in the past few
years nobody could be) but he and Laurel have been
inseparable since she came out of my womb. He's a great
father.
Tim does his share around the house and does it
willingly and well. He's driven professionally, and
he's an up and coming architect who's developing both a
great reputation and a very profitable business. He's a
great provider, good enough that the family can live
comfortably without me having to have a job. What he
isn't, at least for me, is a great lover. When we got
together we were just kids, after all, and neither of
us knew any better. Sure it seemed fun, but then
everything like that does when you're 17.
We kept up a sort of intimacy for a couple of years
after we were married, but it sort of sputtered out
when I was pregnant with Laurel and it never really re-
ignited. Oh, we'd still have sex occasionally, but
there was never passion behind it. It was just another
form of companionship, that was all. It's not that he's
physically unattractive he's tall and strong, fit as
a fiddle (he runs marathons) and he has a face that
I've always thought could have been on a Hollywood
actor, not leading man good looking but with an
incredible amount of strength, character, and kindness.
His hair was always dark, dark brown but over the last
year or so it's started to get shot with gray in a way
that makes him look smarter and more distinguished even
than he is.
There's something wonderful about his eyes, like he's
always laughing inside even when things are bad. And
damn, but his ass looks good! It's just that we didn't
have a spark between us and I never really felt a lot
of desire once I had the kids.
It was sort of a shame, really. When I had my first few
boyfriends in high school I was positively voracious,
and when I first started going out with Tim I used to
fuck his brains out every chance I got. But when the
passion between us died, my libido more or less died
too. I got lost in raising the kids and keeping the
house and being a good wife and mother and pretty much
forgot my pussy even existed. Well... all right, not
completely.
About eight years ago I had a three-week fling with a
guy I met in a bookstore. I'm not proud of it, but it
was passionate and vibrant and all the things that Tim
isn't with me and maybe I needed it to remind me I
was still alive from the waist down. Or maybe that's
just a bullshit excuse. Anyway, I ended it when the
guilt got bigger than the lust and I've lived with the
secret ever since, until recently and then I found
out that Tim wasn't precisely faithful to me all the
time we were married anyway. But I'm getting ahead of
myself.
It was a good time for us, those first few years after
Tim got out of school. We were making money and the
babies were adorable. David was a terrific kid back
then, but even then he had a mischievous streak, and a
mean streak that I tried to tame out of him. He was
huggy and lovey most of the time, sure, but sometimes
he'd hit Laurel or the cat we had then, Snippy. When he
wasn't doing that he was stacking up furniture to climb
onto the top shelves of closets or hiding Laurel's
favorite toy or, once, filling my favorite pair of
shoes with shampoo.
I tried to break him of that kind of thing but I never
managed it, I only made him get better at covering it
up. I guess, honestly, I blinded myself to how bad he
was getting (a mother's love and all that). By the time
he was eight or nine the other parents in the
neighborhood were complaining of how David was acting
around their children, either bullying them or serving
as a poor role model.
When he was 11 I had to talk the school out of
expelling him for doing something (I never did figure
out quite what) that led to a girl a year younger than
him being stripped of her pants in the hallway between
classes; he claimed he had tripped and accidentally
caught them on the way down a lie, but I believed it
at the time. When he was 13 he was arrested for being
in a group of kids that vandalized the car of one of
their former teachers, though David was released
without charges (after Tim pulled some strings) because
he didn't actually do any of the vandalism himself.
A year later a 16 year old girl claimed that he had
gotten her pregnant, and while he didn't deny sleeping
with the little tramp, the test proved that he wasn't
the father. By the time he was 15 he was running with a
very tough group of kids, most of whom were a couple of
years older but David was both strong and smart and
he had made themselves their leader. They weren't a
gang, really, but they were bad kids who were up to no
good, and it wasn't long before I banned them from the
house.
Last year came a flurry of allegations, from beating up
other kids to selling Ecstasy to joyriding, but none of
them stuck... not to David, at least. A couple of times
someone else from his group of friends took the fall,
but David always had an excuse, an alibi, someone
(usually a girl infatuated with his looks and his
charm) who would swear he was somewhere else when
everything went down.
I guess the point is that David was a bad kid, a
terrible kid, a borderline sociopath, and by the time
he was 17 I knew it. He had his father's smarts, a
mixture of Tim's and my good looks, and the easy way I
have of talking to people. At 6'2" he was an inch
taller than Tim, with the kind of athletic build that
drives girls (and women) absolutely crazy. His face was
handsome in a way that was almost pretty, and when he
put those big blue eyes on you he could talk you into
almost anything.
His laugh was easy and infectious, and he knew from an
early age how to get what he wanted with words. As he
grew up and grew strong he also learned how to take
what he wanted when words weren't enough. People always
looked to him for leadership almost from instinct, and
even after most people had learned what kind of person
he was and drifted away, a few would always be there to
do his bidding.
When everything started with the dog and all I learned
he'd lost his virginity at 12 to the pretty female
letter carrier we had at that time, and since then he'd
slept with just about every female he wanted, including
several teachers and half a dozen of the respectable
housewives in the neighborhood. David always had an eye
for older women, I guess. If he'd have just had a shred
of decency or kindness in him, those traits could all
have been put to good use, but he didn't and they
weren't.
Laurel, in contrast, has always been the model child.
Smart, perceptive, utterly kind and gentle, slow to
anger and quick to forgive, caring and extremely girly,
she was the daughter that any mother would have wanted.
She was cute as a girl, with her father's light brown
hair, but she got her height early and her face got the
awkwardness that a lot of teen girls have, where she
got the bone structure that would make her gorgeous as
a woman but still lacked the fullness and texture that
would make her anything but a gawky teen.
She got her boobs early, though, which helped with her
popularity (boys will be boys, after all, and I can
hardly blame them because she's 15 and her tits are
already nearly as big as mine are after I had two
kids!) and her winning personality took care of the
rest. She's always been surrounded by friends real
friends, not minions like David has and she's always
gone from one activity to the next, almost effortlessly
being a champion at dance, then horseback riding, then
piano, then French, then archery... well, you get the
picture. Whatever she tried, she was wonderful at.
She'd had boyfriends of one sort or another since she
was 12, but she was never serious about any of them and
kept her virginity until just recently. What I didn't
realize before a few months ago was that there are
other aspects to her personality, ones I really
couldn't have guessed at. But, again, I'm getting ahead
of the story.
There's one other member of the family that needs to be
mentioned, because he started all this: Charlie, our
three year old Weimaraner. We got him as a gift when he
was just a puppy, and with me being home all the time I
was able to train him well. I'd never had a dog before
never even been around them much but when I got
Charlie I found my first real passion outside of
motherhood, maybe ever.
Right from the beginning I loved that dog almost as
much as either of my children, and he bonded with me in
a very special way. That's not to say that he doesn't
love the rest of the family, because he does, but I'm
his very best friend in the world. He hates to be more
than a few feet away from me, so within a couple of
weeks of getting him I was used to him following me
from room to room, watching whatever I did, constantly
wanting petting and play from me, sleeping on the bed
curled up at my feet, and generally being the best
companion I've ever had.
He was easy to train and eager to please, and even
though he never learned more than a couple of tricks
(he's too stubborn for that) he obeys me instantly...
mostly. It got to the point where I couldn't imagine
life without my big, playful, loving buddy. And he's an
absolutely beautiful dog, big and powerful, and he's a
longhair which is kind of rare for the breed. We didn't
dock his tail (I think that's cruel) and so it's long
and fluffy and, I admit, prone to knocking things off
tables.
To get on with it, as I mentioned before I was just
coming home from my daily run with Charlie. I love
these runs because not only do they keep me in shape,
they also give me a chance to let the dog do some
running of his own, and like all Weimaraners he loves
to run at every chance. It was the first week of May,
but warmer than usual (for Minnesota).
If I remember right it was in the lower eighties and
the sun was shining bright. Both Charlie and I had
worked up quite a sweat, in my case despite the fact
that I was wearing only Lycra running shorts and a
cropped halter that left my tummy exposed (and, of
course, a jogging bra to keep my girls from smacking me
in the face).
We were walking by then, both of us strolling the last
block and a half to cool down, when Charlie went
absolutely gonzo. He jerked so hard at the leash that
he nearly pulled me clean off my feet, and he strained
hard to get onto the lawn of my neighbor from two doors
down, a woman named Molly Anderson.
Molly and her husband are young near-newlyweds, both of
them around 27 or 28 and married just last year. Her
husband Chuck travels a lot on business, leaving Molly
at home; in fact, she works from home doing wedding
planning. She's a complete doll. She's shorter than I
am I don't think she comes to 5'2" in tennis shoes,
whereas I'm closer to 5'8" and she's got a trim build
and hair the color of Godiva dark chocolate. She's got
a pretty face her eyes are big and dark brown and her
nose is as perky as could be... in fact, "perky" just
about describes her all over, since she's chronically
energetic, optimistic and friendly. We get along great.
The thing is, to keep from being lonely, Molly had got
herself a puppy a golden retriever bitch named Nosey.
Nosey is a great dog and she and Charlie always got
along well, but now something was different. Nosey was
in the side yard, stuck inside the fence, and Charlie
was fighting to reach her. Now normally Charlie obeys
me when I tell him something, but this time I was
shouting his name like an idiot and he completely
ignored me, just dragging me behind him like I had no
choice in the matter. In fact, he nearly dislocated my
shoulder, he was dragging me so hard. When he got to
the fence he engaged in a mighty round of sniffing, and
Nosey seemed to be giving him access to her rear end to
get all the smell he wanted to.
OK, call me dense, but I still hadn't figured it out.
Charlie had never acted this way before, and like I
mentioned, this was the first time I had ever really
been around dogs. Their sexuality had never occurred to
me before (even though I had always found the feel of
Charlie's fur against my hand or my leg to be very
sensual) and it wasn't occurring to me now. "Dammit,
Charlie, come on," I gasped, pulling fruitlessly at the
leash. "Get away from there now before..."
My words were cut off as Charlie crouched and, with one
bound, cleared the fence that separated him from Nosey.
I let go of the leash just in time to avoid getting
slammed into the chain link, but I did let out a loud
yelp of surprise and pain. "CHARLIE!"
For all my faithful dog listened to me, I may as well
have been miles away. He and Nosey were sniffing each
other and that was all they were interested in. Then
from a window I heard Molly's cheerful voice say, "Uh
oh, looks like somebody caught the scent. Try and keep
them apart and I'll be right out."
Keeping them apart was easier tried than accomplished,
however, especially from the wrong side of the fence. I
still didn't know what Charlie was so worked up about
yes, I was that naοve, but also it had happened so
suddenly I didn't have time to think when Molly came
out her door. Just then, however, Nosey struck a pose
with her rear legs apart and her tail in the air, and
just like that Charlie jumped up on her, locking his
forelimbs about her waist and...
And then I figured it out. The revelation hit me like a
physical blow. Honestly, it felt like something huge
and soft and very warm slamming into me from head to
toe, and I actually staggered half a step backward.
Charlie was starting to hunch on Nosey, his rear
thrusting as he tried to find her pussy. *Find her
pussy...* The fact of that made me blush so hard that I
got lightheaded.
And then Molly was there, laughing good-naturedly as
she yanked on Nosey's collar. "Come on, give me a hand
here," she told me happily. "Charlie's a big, horny
boy!"
Charlie was a big, horny boy. I felt the world swirling
around me, but I stepped forward like I was told and
managed to grab my dog's leash. With both feet braced
and against the fence and leaning with all my weight
the other way as Molly dragged Nosey unwillingly away
from the mating, I was able to keep Charlie from
chasing. Barely. But I was red from the top of my head
to my toenails.
"Sorry," Molly chuckled as she dragged and shoved Nosey
to the house. "I didn't realize she was in heat. This
is her first time."
"Her first time," I nodded, not even really aware I was
saying anything.
"Yeah," Molly said. "We want to breed her so we haven't
had her fixed yet. We didn't think she'd mature this
early, but apparently her smell brings all the boys
running."
I managed a laugh, though I was still strangely
flustered in spite of the fact that I wasn't quite sure
why. I could feel my whole body alive with tension,
which I assumed was just from the sudden adrenaline of
being dragged across a yard and fighting a dog who was
considerably stronger than I was. "I guess it does," I
replied. "We were thinking about breeding Charlie too
once or twice and then having him neutered. It seems
only fair to let him have something before..."
"Oh definitely, imagine a whole life as a virgin!"
Molly laughed as she shoved her dog inside and closed
the door, remaining outside with me. Her eyes drifted
down and her laugh got a little deeper. "Looks like
Charlie doesn't want to die without getting some
either."
I followed her look, and then I saw it: my dog's cock.
It was red and shining and the tip that was protruding
from his gray, furry sheath was beveled and strange
looking. I stared for a moment, transfixed beyond any
reasonable explanation, and then I laughed again.
"Well, that's embarrassing," I said, though I wasn't
sure even to myself who should be embarrassed or why.
"It's perfectly natural," Molly grinned as she trotted
across the yard to me. "Once they get the smell they
can't help themselves. Men are the same no matter what
species. Here, give me the leash and I'll walk him
around to the gate." I did, feeling strangely...
abstracted, I suppose, as though I was dreaming.
She walked away and I watched her go with Charlie,
though all I really had eyes for was his heavy,
dangling furry balls between his hind legs and the hard
red bit of cock that was still showing. With a weird
cross between numbness and utter vibrancy I went slowly
around to the other side of the house, where Molly was
just opening the gate. "Careful," she told me with a
smile. "He tried to hump my leg a second ago."
"How embarrassing," I said again, only this time it was
about me I realized that my nipples were hard,
achingly so, and pressing against the inside of my
tight jogging bra. I took the leash, muttered a quick
goodbye, and hurried home. Charlie gave several looks
over his shoulder at where Nosey had been, as well as a
tug or two on the leash and a soft whine, but he let
himself be led.
My stomach was so full of butterflies as we walked
those last 200 feet that I thought I might throw up. I
was dizzy from what I'd seen, I was flushed and hot and
cold at the same time, I felt like running again and
jumping and my nipples were hard as rubies...
My pussy was wet. God, it was dripping! I could feel
it, feel it itching, wanting, empty between my legs,
and once more the image came to me of Charlie latching
on to Nosey's waist as he mounted her. His grip was so
strong and his tail was up. His back had bowed into an
arch and he had begun to thrust that wet red cock at
her willing, warm body, trying to get into her, trying
to find her tight little dog cunt so he could fill her
with his cum and give her puppies
I gasped, and instantly felt both conscious and a
little ashamed for what I realized was happening. I was
turned on by watching my dog almost fuck the neighbor
dog! And I wasn't just aroused, I was on fire in a way
that I hadn't been since my three-week affair eight
years before... no, I corrected myself immediately, not
even then had I been this hot.
The movement of my nipples inside my bra, slight as it
was, was driving me insane, and I felt the absolute
need to have something, anything, touch me between my
thighs, a need that had never been nearly this intense
before. I was so fucking horny that if I didn't cum
soon, I was going to lose my mind.
Guilt was brushed aside, and so was rational thought. I
fumbled with the keys to open the door, and once I got
it open and took the leash off Charlie took off like a
bolt through the house the way he always does, running
to check to make sure the place was still secure. I had
to get upstairs to the bedroom no, fuck that, I had
to cum, I had to cum NOW!
Somewhere between the door and the sofa I lost my shirt
and my bra. I don't even remember taking them off, I
just remember an overpowering need to be naked. I do
recall hooking my fingers into the waist of my shorts
and pulling them down, mostly because of the way they
stuck to my pussy and the way the air felt against it
when I bared it. I was so hot that even the warm spring
air felt cool against my cunt. I flung myself onto the
sofa in just my shoes and socks and my hand went
between my legs.
It's all a jumble, but I know I came almost the instant
my palm touched my clit. A little part of my mind
marveled at how hard that little nub was, like a
miniature cock, but that just set off a round of
pictures in my head of Charlie's cock sticking out of
its sheath and him humping Nosey and the way his
hindquarters moved so fast as he tried to get himself
buried in her eager body
I know I screamed when I came. I know because minutes
later, when I finally felt enough myself to open my
eyes and look around blearily, my throat was sore.
"Jesus," I muttered, feeling the afterglow still mellow
and wonderful upon me. "My god. I've never... I never
even thought..."
I heard a tail thumping and I looked down. Charlie was
lying on the floor at my feet, staring up at me in the
same dumb adoration he always has when he looks at me.
His tongue was lolling out and his eyes were bright,
and he was still breathing heavily from the run.
"You," I whispered, still in awe of what I was feeling,
what he had made me feel. "What was that? What did I
do?" I was sitting with my legs splayed, naked, one
hand still resting limply in my lap and the other
moving slowly and gently against my left nipple even
though I couldn't remember putting it there in the
first place. But my nipples were still hard enough to
cut glass and just the feel of my fingertips against
one was sending shivers through me, pushing the
afterglow aside and slowly, gradually, rebuilding the
fires in my stomach and in my pussy.
I shifted the hand in my lap and was awed at how wet it
was; it felt like I'd peed myself, but I knew from the
smell that it was all my sex, the smell of me being a
woman, and a horny one (horny like Nosey, my mind
whispered, and I couldn't help but wonder how my scent
was compared to hers). I didn't want to move much, but
I did manage to lift my left foot enough to rub
Charlie's neck with the toe of my shoe, and he pressed
against the contact happily.
I had just had the best orgasm of my life, I realized,
and I had had it because of Charlie, because of what he
did and what I saw. The realization of it hit me at
once, of course, because of the sheer abnormality of
it, and I knew I should have felt guilty about getting
so hot about watching a pair of dogs almost do the
nasty. In fact, I did feel a tiny twinge of guilt way
down, but I was too horny for it to last or for me to
concentrate on it.
The guilt came later. Right then I was lost in a fugue
of lust and desire and sheer sensation like I had never
even suspected existed. And Charlie was the cause of it
all.
Charlie. I stared at him through heavy, half-lidded
eyes and felt something growing inside me that I'd
never felt before and couldn't identify. It was hot and
hard and needful, and it was centered in the pit of my
stomach and the deepest parts of my sex, but it was in
other places too, in my heart and throbbing in my head.
It made me horny, yes, but it was much more than that
too because it made me feel full and finished in a way
that I never had.
It was like I was a jigsaw puzzle and I'd been walking
around my whole life missing a piece without knowing
it, and then suddenly that piece was clicked into place
and I felt whole for the first time since the day I was
born. And before I even realized it, my eyes had
dropped closed again and my hand was moving against my
pussy, stroking my wet lips and letting my palm and the
heel of my hand gyrate ever so gently against my clit.
I was going to cum again, I knew, and this one wouldn't
be as immediate or pressing as the last one but it
would be harder and more... transformative. I knew that
without even having to think about it.
I let my fingers move over my lips, feeling my heat,
feeling my juices, feeling how incredibly and insanely
wet I was. Had I ever been this wet? I hadn't even
thought I could get this wet. My juices were hot and
aromatic and they had wetted my pubic hair and further
up, nearly to my navel, and further down the insides of
my thighs halfway to my knees. The couch was a mess,
but the couch was leather with plenty of treatment on
it so I knew it wouldn't stain... as if I was even
thinking about that then.
With two fingers I pressed my lips open, and I gasped
loudly at the way I felt. I've always loved the
contrast of the sensation when I touch myself, the way
my inner lips feel different from my outer lips and the
way my wetness feels on different parts of my body.
Part of me wanted to take my time and make this last as
long as I could make it last, but I knew that I wasn't
capable of holding back that long. I had another orgasm
in me and it was going to get out sooner rather than
later.
I felt Charlie's tongue on my thigh. It was long and
thick, strong but profoundly flexible, and it lapped at
my juices about three inches below my pussy. I can't
even tell you how it felt. You know that a dog's tongue
is rougher than a person's and I'm sure you've have
your face or your hand licked, but this wasn't like
that. This was a broad, hard, certain swipe at some of
the tendered skin I have and it made my whole body
convulse with sudden pleasure. My eyes flew open just
in time to see him take another lick, this one actually
brushing against the pubic hair at my crotch, not even
an inch from my cunt.
I squealed and I'm sure I said his name, but he ignored
me. I was frozen in place except for the quivering that
his tongue was making me do so that my hand was stuck
right over my twat and that meant that his next lick,
which came a second later, caught mostly the back of my
hand. But there was a little of it that struck my lips
on either side of my hand, and when it did I felt like
I would leap clear out of my skin.
I know a lot of people would have a real problem with a
dog licking their privates. It's not like I sat around
and plotted for how I could make this happen. It had
never even occurred to me that it could happen. But
once the sudden fact of Charlie's sexuality drove me
into a frenzy, and once I felt that tongue on my twat,
I could no more have stopped myself than I could have
grown wings and flown. In fact, I did the only thing I
could: I moved my hand and gave my dog unfettered,
spread-legged, and completely eager access to my cunt.
Charlie's next few licks missed it completely dogs
are amazing lovers but they aren't the brightest
creatures on God's green Earth as he concentrated on
cleaning up my thighs. But then came a lick that was
absolutely, completely, dead-center on. I screamed. It
wasn't even a little bit ladylike, I just howled with
pleasure beyond anything I'd ever know before. And it
wasn't just physical pleasure, because I don't think
physical pleasure alone could have given me the
reaction I had.
It was emotional and spiritual and psychic, and it was
completely and utterly fulfilling in a way that no
other sexual touch I'd ever had could even begin to
match. When I felt that big, strong, flat tongue
pushing my lips apart, when I felt that incredible
power contained in something so flexible, when I felt
the soft roughness and the heat of his breath on my
clit, I felt like at long last, somehow, I had come
home. Really, truly, it was as simple and as honest as
that.
I felt the absolute and undeniable sense that this was
where I belonged. And when that ragged gasp tore itself
from my throat and I jerked my hips up into Charlie's
snout so that his tongue slipped inside of me and I
felt his teeth press against my lips, I felt sexually
alive and completely understood for the first time in
my whole life.
Charlie, of course, knew nothing of that. He only knew
that he had caught a bitch-scent earlier and he was
still horny, and here was his mistress giving off a
bitch-scent too, and he was doing what came naturally.
He was giving me the licking of a lifetime. Within a
few moments I had my legs spread as wide as they would
go, my hands clasping my knees to pull myself open even
more. Every lash of that sweet, perfect tongue was
greeted with a spasm in my sex and a moan from my lips.
My pussy was on fire. My blood was boiling. My heart
was hammering.
As perfect as it was, and it was perfect, there was
something exquisitely maddening about it as well
because Charlie was teasing me to the point where he
was driving me crazy. He wasn't doing it deliberately,
of course he didn't know enough one way or another to
do that but every time he had me thinking my orgasm
was coming, he would switch to doing something else.
His tongue was filling my cunt, and few things can fill
a woman like a dog's tongue: hot, rough, soft, strong,
twisting, moving, hitting every nerve I had including a
lot of them I didn't even know I had. In and out, fast,
hard, those teeth pressing against my outer lips and
raising screams from my throat until I was on the edge
of a climax that would be beyond words
Then his tongue out of me, flashing across my lips and,
electrifyingly, my clit. My God! How can I even
describe the way that tongue felt on my clit! My clit
was as hard as a diamond and I could feel every bump of
that tongue on it as it flashed past. The sensation was
like absolutely nothing else I'd ever experienced. It
sent an explosion of pleasure through my whole body and
every single nerve in my body came alive at once, but
the pleasure was so sharp and intense and crystalline
that it was almost painful. My whole body convulsed in
surprise and a mixture of ecstasy and torment; it was
almost enough to send me over into orgasm by itself but
it was just too much, and without thinking I half
folded my body in on itself to keep Charlie from
hitting my clit.
And that game him perfect access to my ass, and that
was an opportunity he didn't waste. His tongue was on
the bud of my asshole instantly, and the shudders I had
been experiencing were suddenly doubled. That big,
warm, wonderful tongue that had felt so amazing inside
my pussy a few moments before felt just as amazing now
when it swiped across my little asshole, and my hips
bucked hard against Charlie's mouth.
I know I was babbling something between moans and gasps
but I don't think it amounted to words. I was feeling
so much pleasure that I needed to vocalize it, and too
much pleasure to make sense. That tongue hitting those
incredibly sensitive nerve endings in my anus, making
my pussy clench and making my stomach feel like it was
on fire, it was more than I had ever dreamed of. But
his second lick against my ass was harder, and the
third harder still he was pushing his tongue up into
my asshole, assfucking me with that incredible piece of
meat in his mouth, and I was adoring every second of
it!
"Fu-fu-fu-fu-FUUUUCCCCCKKKK!!!" I howled as my orgasm
took me. I had known it was close but the feel of
Charlie licking my ass so fervidly made it explode
inside of me like a bomb literally, because at that
moment I felt like my whole body was coming apart.
Every nerve ending seemed to be dancing on its own to
the incomprehensible tune Charlie was calling with his
mouth, and all I could do was let it wash over me.
I felt like I was lifting up off the couch and out of
my body. My eyes were screwed shut so hard I was seeing
fireworks. Every blood vessel from my scalp to my toes
was coursing with rapture and release. I have no idea
how long it lasted because it didn't really stop when
he took his tongue out of my ass and filled my pussy
again. It subsided a bit, enough so that I could
remember who I was and what I was doing, but for
delicious long minutes he dragged my orgasm out, or
maybe he strung together a whole bunch of little
orgasms into one long blissful release. I don't even
have words to describe it except to say that I had
never felt anything as powerful, or as perfectly right,
in my whole life.
At one point he lifted his head and I could feel him
stepping away from between my legs as if he'd had
enough. Maybe he had, but I sure hadn't. "No no no God
please keep licking me keep licking me fuck me with
that tongue fuck me lover please fuck me," I babbled
as, with eyes still closed, I reached down and found
his head, pulling him back to my crotch. He didn't seem
to need any coaxing because he went back to work
instantly.
But it was that little break, that tiny interruption in
his licking, that gave my body enough time to come down
off its continuous orgasmic high. It broke the chain, I
guess, and when he started licking again he was licking
my thighs and my ass cheeks and the outside of my
pussy. But I knew Charlie could make me cum again. I
knew it without a single doubt in the world. I knew
that my body had a spectacular release in it yet, and
as unfathomable as the last however many minutes had
been, what Charlie had still to give me would be even
better.
And so I spread my pussy lips with my fingers and
Charlie filled my pussy again with his incredible
tongue. It took the breath out of my lungs and it took
me someplace I'd always longed to be without ever even
knowing it existed. The hand that was holding me open
was resting over my clit, and the pressure from the
heel of my hand was exactly enough to stimulate that
little bud perfectly. Turning, twisting, moving inside
of me, that tongue, those teeth on my lips, his hot
breath, the fur against my thighs, my hand on my clit,
it was all too much.
I've had a lot of amazing orgasms since then, with dogs
and people, but I honestly do not think I have ever
felt as good as that since. It wasn't pleasure, it
wasn't even ecstasy. It took me beyond words and beyond
thought so some kind of ideal orgasm that I thought
only existed in tawdry romance novels. I've tried to
describe that climax since and I haven't been able to
come close, but I'll try again.
It felt like lightning was striking me, but from the
inside, from the deepest part of my pussy, and flowing
outward, exploding, detonating, taking me apart. I
could feel everything, every single bit of my body,
every single piece distinctly reaching its own summit,
all of them combining together to make one enormous
whole that was just too much to contemplate.
There was more than that, though. Like I said above,
there was something spiritual about it. I know that it
sounds idiotic to say that coming from getting licked
by a dog was spiritual, but I don't know any other word
for it because I felt so whole and entire and complete,
the way some people do when they have religious
experiences.
In those moments what stuck with me even more than the
pleasure was the knowledge that I had needed this all
along, since I was a little girl. I needed to be one,
sexually, with a dog, or with many dogs, and it was the
fact that I had never had a dog when I was growing up,
or even been around any, that had kept me from
discovering it so much earlier. I could have spent my
whole life feeling this way, I knew, but I hadn't;
instead I was feeling it now and that was enough and
more than enough. It was that joy that I felt as I
passed out.
I was only out for a few seconds, I found out later.
When I came back to consciousness I was only aware of
my own limpness on the sofa and my own breasts heaving
from panting so hard. My eyes were closed and I was
lost in the exquisite darkness of my own afterglow,
soft and lethargic and wonderful. I didn't think I
could have moved so I didn't try. Charlie wasn't
licking me anymore but I could hear him panting
somewhere in the room, and a devilish grin slowly
curled my lips. "Charlie," I whispered. "Lover, you are
so amazing..."
"Yeah," came a familiar male voice with a sarcastic
drawl, "it looked like he was hitting your spot."
My whole body jerked at once, arms flying across my
breasts and my legs snapping shut. My afterglow
vanished in an instant and my eyes flew open to look at
David, my son, who was looking back at me. He was
leaning against the wall, a superior grin on his
handsome face. One hand was petting Charlie, who was
sitting at his feet and pressing his head against
David's leg.
In the other hand was his cell phone, the camera
pointed directly at me.
"D-DAVID!" I gasped, writhing and twisting to try to
cover myself. It didn't occur to me how silly that was
given what he'd just watched, but then I wasn't exactly
thinking. "Wh... hu... what are you doing home?"
"I cut fifth period," he told me, still keeping me in
the camera of his phone. "I never expected to get a
show like this though. If I'd have known you and
Charlie were getting it on I'd cut more often."
I was speechless from mortification, so I looked around
for my clothes. For some reason it seemed more horribly
embarrassing at that moment to be naked in front of my
son than to think what he'd seen me doing and I wanted
desperately to get something on. Unfortunately, David
had gathered all my clothes into a neat pile... and he
was standing in front of it. With a hard swallow I
asked, very quietly, "Can I please have my clothes?"
"No," David replied, clicking his cell phone off. I
like you like that. Let's keep you that way for a
while."
I gritted my teeth. David, the little demon seed, was
humiliating me, and he was going to enjoy it. That
meant he was going to drag it out for as long as he
could. So I pulled myself into a sitting position,
thighs together, hunched forward, arms in front of my
chest. I was showing less skin than I do in my swim
suit, so that would do for a bit. "Look, this is the
only time this ever happened and I "
"Riiiight," David sneered. "Anyway, I got some great
film of it. Wanna see?" He turned his phone toward me
and pressed a button, and the living room was filled
with the sounds of my lustful moaning. The screen of
the phone was too small for me to see detail from
several feet away but I could tell that he had some
excellent and undeniable pictures of me and Charlie.
"Or maybe I ought to email it to dad?"
"NO!" I shouted, feeling myself blushing crimson.
"Don't send that to anyone!"
""Or maybe grandma and grandpa," he mused, loving my
panic. "Or all the aunts and uncles. I have their
emails on this phone you know. Or maybe Reverend
Hutchison?"
"God damn it!" I cried, my shame making me angry. "Stop
it! Don't send that to anyone, please!"
David looked at me for a moment, his grin predatory and
his thumb poised over the buttons on his phone... and
then he slowly lowered his arm and tucked his phone
back into his pocket. I breathed a sigh of relief, but
my relief was very short lived. "Looks like I have
something you want, and I'd imagine you want it pretty
badly. Right?" I glared at him without answering and
after a moment he repeated, "Right?"
"Right," I muttered between clenched teeth.
"Stand up," he told me, and I stood, slowly and keeping
my left arm in front of my breasts and my right hand
over my pussy. He looked me up and down in a way that I
didn't at all like and said, "Show me."
"Show you what?" I asked. The mixture of anger and
embarrassment I felt made me want to sink through the
floor.
"Your body," David replied. He was obviously enjoying
every second of this. "Put your arms at your sides and
show me what you've got."
I stared at him incredulously. "What? Why do you want
to see that?"
Something flared up in my son's eyes, something that I
couldn't accept for what it was: it was lust, pure and
simple. His smile was cruel as he told me, "Because
you're a hot little piece, mom. I've wanted to see you
buck-ass-naked since I knew what it meant."
My jaw dropped. That made no sense to me. Why would a
boy want to see his own mother naked? "I don't
understand..."
"DO IT!" David roared suddenly, and both Charlie and I
flinched at the sudden rage. "Don't you fucking mess
with me! When I tell you to do something you do it or
everybody you know will see you with a goddamned dog
licking that little cunt of yours and you begging for
more, got it? Now put down your goddamned arms and let
me see what you have!"
I staggered back half a step as though he had struck
me, but after a moment I did what he told me: I dropped
my arms to my side. My eyes were on the floor and I was
blushing from my belly-button up. I was suddenly
acutely aware that the smell of my orgasms was still
thick in the warm spring air, and that made me even
more embarrassed. After several long moments in which I
could feel David's eyes heavy on my bare skin, he said,
softly and reasonably, "Look up at me."
I did, but I couldn't meet his eyes. I stared at a
point on the ceiling above his head and tried to
pretend none of this was happening. It didn't work.
"Turn around. I want to see your ass."
I shivered at the tone of my son's voice, but his
explosive reaction had taught me not to argue, at least
not right now. I simply did as he was told, turning
around and staring hard away from him as he checked out
my pert little bottom. I wanted to die.
"Turn around," he told me again, and when I did he
tossed me my tee shirt and my shorts, much to my
surprise. "Get dressed."
I did, gratefully and as quickly as I could. I pulled
my shirt on first, and a second later my Lycra shorts
followed. "Thank you," I muttered, unsure why I was
thanking him after what he'd just done.
"You're welcome," he told me amiably, sitting down in
one of the recliners. "Come on, have a seat, we need to
talk."
I did, sitting on the sofa again (though not on the
same spot that was still glistening and wet with my
juices). After a moment I said, "I'm sorry you had to
see that, David. I don't... I mean, this really was the
first time I've ever done anything like that. I don't
even know... I mean, it just sort of happened..."
"OK," David replied, as though that explanation meant
nothing. "The point is you did it and I... well, I
preserved it for posterity. I want you to understand
something, mom. I will send this to your parents, dad's
parents, all the aunts and uncles, and to everyone else
I can think of, unless you make it worth my while. I
don't give a fuck what it would mean to you. I don't
give a fuck what it would mean to dad or that it would
break grandma's heart. When I turn 18 I'm done with all
you fucking people anyway, so what happens to you is
not my fucking problem. It's your problem. And it's
gonna be a big problem unless you give me what I want."
I let those words sink in. They were terrible, awful
words for a mother to hear from her son, but I never
doubted them for an instant. David wasn't one to make
idle threats, and he had never had this kind of power
over an authority figure before. He'd destroy me. That
meant I'd have to play for time until I could figure a
way out of this, and so I did the only thing I could
do: I nodded and asked, quietly, "What do you want?"
"How much cash do you have in the house?"
"I have about a hundred in my purse. You're welcome to
it."
"I'll take it," he nodded. "But I know that ain't all
you have. I've heard you and dad talking about the
'lights out money' and I want it."
I sighed. The lights out money was a wad of cash that
Tim and I kept in case there was a tornado or some
other natural disaster that would keep us from
accessing our bank accounts or using plastic for a
while. It was the ultimate fall back, and if it
disappeared I'd have some explaining to do. But what
choice did I have? "All right," I told David, standing
up. "I'll get it for you."
Three minutes later I was back, handing him a thick wad
of 50 $20 bills. It was only half of the $2,000 Tim and
I had set aside, but I figured David wouldn't know
that. He took the money, counted it quickly, and shoved
it into his pocket without comment. He stood in front
of me and paused a moment, and I was struck for maybe
the first time at how tall and strong my little boy had
become. If he chose to overpower me, I wouldn't have
had a chance. But he didn't, not then at least. Instead
he smiled at me sweetly and said, "I'm going to go do
some shopping."
I felt myself relax as he turned and headed for the
door. I had expected worse, but if all he wanted was
money then this wouldn't be that bad. Money could be
replaced. But he paused as he got to the door. Looking
over his shoulder at me, he said, "This has just begun,
mom. I'm gonna have a lot of fun with this."
Even after he was gone, I stood in the middle of the
living room with shivers running down my spine,
wondering what he might have meant.
Chapter Two
I spent the rest of the afternoon in a sort of
suspended misery. I put Charlie outside and took a
long, hot shower. I still felt dirty when it was over.
I cleaned the couch and aired out the living room to
get rid of the last hint of my scent out. I was half
frantic. Had Laurel or even Tim caught me, it would
have been mortifying but nothing more, because either
one of them would have talked to me about it or maybe
just pretended it never happened at all. But in the
hands of David, with the proof he had, I was over a
barrel. I knew that the little sociopath wouldn't
hesitate to ruin me and the entire family, and laugh
while he did it unless I gave him precisely what he
wanted, whatever that was.
And now was when the guilt really hit me. I felt sick
with it. What I had done was wicked and wrong, an
unnatural perversion. How in the world could I have
gotten so excited by looking at my dog trying to mate?
And even if I had, for whatever sick reason, how could
I have done what I did? To let my dog lick me! To get
so completely aroused and to be so moved by it! As
excited and thrilled as I had been while it was
happening, I now felt as disgusted and as miserable.
I was almost nauseous with the memory of Charlie's
tongue on me and my reaction! I was worse than a
bitch in heat myself a bitch in heat can't help her
reaction, but I could certainly help mine. Well... I
couldn't have, but I should have been able to, and the
fact that I hadn't been able to just made me feel all
the sicker and more disgusted with myself.
Around five Laurel came home. She was running track
that season and her practices kept her late. She came
in with her gym bag over her shoulder and a smile on
her face, chipper and cheerful and bouncy as though she
didn't have a care in the whole world. She kissed me on
the cheek and asked me how my day was. I stammered
something I don't remember what, but it made her look
at me funny and she went upstairs to put her things
away and to get changed.
For dinner I was making a simple dish of flounder with
sautιed almonds, steamed broccoli, rice and a green
salad not exactly rocket science, but I completely
botched it. The almonds were burned, the fish was
overdone and the broccoli was half raw. I just couldn't
concentrate at all, not with David out of my sight
plotting who knew what. I was chewing my nails (a
nervous habit) and I had forgotten all about the
almonds until Laurel came downstairs to see what the
burning smell was.
"Mom?" she asked as she turned off the burner and took
the pan off the stove. "Are you all right?"
I nodded with a jerky motion of my head and gave her a
smile that must have looked like a corpse. "I'm fine,
honey. I just had a tough day. Charlie got out and
caused some trouble." Half a lie was better than a
whole one, I reasoned.
"Uh oh, that explains why he's still outside," she
nodded. "Bad trouble?"
"Nnnnoooo, not bad, just..." Just what? "Well, we may
have to have him neutered a little earlier than we were
expecting to, that's all."
Laurel grinned at me with sudden understanding and made
a snip-snip motion with her fingers. "Whose dog did he
get at?"
"The Andersons."
"Didja have to throw hot water on them to get them
apart?"
I stopped in my tracks and looked at her, completely
baffled. "Why would we have to do that?"
Laurel's grin turned mischievous and she laughed. "You
know how dogs get stuck together when they do it."
"They do?" I asked, more baffled than ever. Like I
said, I hadn't spent time around dogs. "Why?"
She looked at me like I was the child, and not a very
bright one at that. "Because the male... well the way
they're made, they stick together. You know?"
I didn't but I nodded anyway. Deep inside of me there
was a flicker of something, be it interest or
excitement at the idea of learning something that
seemed so alien and forbidden, but yet so wonderful.
How did they stick together? Why? As soon as I thought
it I knew the questions would be with me until I
answered them and just as quickly I felt ashamed for
the unnatural interest and the wicked excitement I
felt.
"They didn't even get together, we kept them apart. But
he nearly ripped my arms out of the sockets dragging me
to the fence, and then he jumped over it and just about
threw me off my feet. Anyway, they're going to be
breeding Nosey and if she's going to be in heat all the
time we can't have him running over there."
"Oh. Well it could have been a lot worse."
"It could have." It was.
She leaned up against the stove and crossed her arms in
front of her in the way she did when she was about to
give sage advice. "I know you're super close with
Charlie and you don't want to get him clipped before
he's had a chance to... you know. But it's not the end
of the world. Plenty of dogs get neutered and as far as
I know they're pretty happy and healthy afterward."
"I know," I said, feeling distinctly agitated talking
to my 15 year old daughter about canine sex, given what
had happened earlier in the day. "Anyway, let's change
the subject. How was school?"
"Oh, well remember I told you Rachel Czapiewski was
wearing all these goofy things to school all of a
sudden? Well listen to this..." For the next 15 minutes
Laurel regaled me with stories from her day and I tried
to be interested, but my mind wouldn't stay put on the
topic. I kept thinking about Charlie and everything
that had happened, how excited he had made me and how
hard and completely he had made me come, but mostly I
was thinking about David and dreading what he was
cooking up for me.
Still, I paid enough attention to make the right noises
and ask the right questions until I heard Tim's car
pulling into the garage. A couple of minutes later the
back door opened and he came in with Charlie leading
the way. To my very great relief he didn't sprint
across the kitchen and shove his nose into my crotch,
instead preferring to sniff the floor for food that may
have been dropped and then force his head into my hand
for a good petting.
Tim paused and scented the air. "Something smells...
good."
"You're a liar," I chuckled. "Something smells burnt.
The almonds, in fact. So we'll just have to have the
flounder and sautιed almonds without the sautιed
almonds."
Tim leaned in and put an affectionate kiss on my cheek.
"Somehow I think we'll live. So, how are my two
favorite ladies in the whole world?"
"Daddy, listen to this," Laurel said, and instantly
launched into a story about school. That, at least,
made me smile, and we sat down to a pleasant dinner
where I was able to forget most of my problems. At
least for a while.
After dinner Laurel and Tim went upstairs to work on
her homework. The fact was that she seldom needed
assistance with her homework, but she's the very
definition of a daddy's girl and she and Tim love to
spend time together. Every night after school Tim would
go up to Laurel's room and, yes, they would work on her
homework, but most of the time if you walked by her
room you'd see her telling him a story about her day or
showing him something on the computer or him imparting
some very good advice on some topic or another. I've
always had a great relationship with her, but she's a
daddy's girl beyond a doubt.
At any rate, I was alone in the kitchen, cleaning up,
when David came home. He was carrying a couple of
shopping bags. The big one was from Best Buy, and I
have to admit that I heaved a sigh of relief to see
that the money he'd extorted from me had at least been
spent on something other than drugs or booze, which was
what I'd expected when I'd given it to him. He set that
bag and another, smaller one on the table and sniffed
the air. "Christ, who got burned at the stake in here?"
I rolled my eyes and turned my back to him, going back
to washing the skillet. I didn't say anything.
He came up behind me and held out the smaller bag. "I
got you something."
I looked down at the bag and then up at him. Whatever
was in that bag, I strongly doubted it was anything
good. "What is it?" I asked, certain I didn't want to
know.
"Open it and find out."
With considerable trepidation I took the bag and opened
it, but what I saw wasn't what I expected: female shave
gel, a lady's razor, and a tube of aloe vera cream. I
looked up at him and saw the shit eating grin on his
face, but I didn't understand why. "OK," I asked,
"what's the idea?"
His smile got wicked as he told me, "Shave your pussy."
I was dumbstruck. "What?"
"Shave. Your. Pussy. It's not complicated."
Disgust with him surged through me and I thrust the bag
back into his chest. "Go to hell you little shit!" I
snapped. "Who do you think you are, talking to me that
way?"
"I like shaved pussies and I want yours shaved."
"Tough."
His eyes narrowed to angry slits. "You know what I can
do. You know what I will do if you make me. Now ask
yourself, is this really where you want to draw a line?
At something millions of women do voluntarily?"
I was steaming. "I'm not one of those women and I don't
intend to be and it's none of your business whether I
shave or not. You have no right to treat me this way!"
"But I am treating you this way," he replied simply,
and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Here's the
deal: shave or don't. It's your choice. But I'm going
to check tomorrow morning and "
"Oh the hell you are!"
"But I'm going to check tomorrow morning," he repeated
patiently, "and if you aren't shaved, you know what
will happen. That's all I have to say to you about it."
Without another word he turned, leaving the small bag
on the counter, and retrieved the stuff he bought from
Best Buy. He left me alone in the kitchen feeling angry
and hurt and very, very upset.
Tim came back down after spending an hour with Laurel
and settled down in front of the TV to watch "CSI"
reruns and do some paperwork from the office. I spent
45 minutes with him, doing some talking but mostly
mulling miserably over my options... and then I excused
myself and went into the bathroom to do what my son had
told me to do.
I realized, basically, that I didn't have any choice.
He wanted me to get rid of my pubic hair so I would get
rid of my pubic hair whether I felt like it or not. And
I didn't want to. I always thought that a woman ought
to look like a woman, not like a little girl. Oh, don't
mistake me, I wasn't like some 1970s porn star with a
bush long enough to braid. I kept the kitty trimmed and
neat. But there was definitely pubic hair, even when
many of my friends were telling me how awesome it was
to be shaved. I had never bought into it. Now I had no
choice.
I took a long bath, keeping the water just as hot as I
could tolerate it. I washed myself thoroughly with a
cloth. I ran my fingers through my hair to bid it
goodbye, at least for a little while. And then I
shaved, once going with the grain and once against. I
took off every hair I could find. Afterward I put on
the aloe David had bought me, and the first sensations
of fingers and lotion against my newly bare lips were
almost shocking in their intensity.
I stood naked in front of the full length mirror,
looking at myself and thinking how I suddenly looked
ten years old again. It was ridiculous. Why would a man
want to see me like this? And more than that, why would
my SON want to see me like this? Obviously David had
some sort of sick thing going on about me, I understood
that, and if he wanted to check to see if I'd shaved,
well, he'd already seen me naked today (and getting my
pussy licked by a dog, my mind helpfully reminded me)
and so I didn't suppose another look, no matter how
unnatural, would really matter much one way or another.
I tried not to think of him touching himself to the
film he'd taken of me earlier, because that made me
more than a little sick to my stomach.
Tim was still watching TV when I got out of the
bathroom so I put on a cotton nightgown (it had been a
hot day but it was going to be a cool night), took a
Lunesta, and went to bed. Charlie slept curled up at my
feet, like always.
May 5
The next day began normally enough. I got out of bed a
few minutes after Tim did, and when he was in the
shower I let Charlie out to do his business while I
made breakfast pancakes that day, as it happened.
Everybody came to eat, even David that was unusual
because he rarely ate meals with the family anymore,
but I guessed that pancakes could soften the hardest
heart.
Tim bustled out the door a few minutes later and then
Laurel ran off to catch her bus (she goes to the same
school David does but she'd rather have walked three
miles there and back than ride in his car with him)
leaving me and my son alone, except for Charlie, who
was on the floor watching David eat with the intensity
that only a dog or a starving person can bring to that
act. I didn't say anything to him, I just cleared the
table and went about cleaning up.
When he was done eating he brought his dishes to the
dishwasher (I'd managed to instill that much good
manners into him anyway, a small triumph) and he stood
watching me smugly as I washed the pan. I knew exactly
what he wanted but I was damned if I'd take the first
step.
So finally he did. "So?" he asked.
"So?"
"Did you?"
I didn't look up and I tried to keep my voice as
absolutely neutral and matter of fact as I could. "Yes
I did," I told him simply, and kept on washing.
"I told you I'd check, not that I'd ask you," he said.
"And I'm gonna check."
My disgust won out and showed all over my face, but he
didn't seem to notice when I turned and looked at him,
or if he noticed he didn't seem to give a damn. "Fine,"
I said bitterly, reaching down to pull up my nightgown.
If the little pervert wanted to look at his mother's
shaved snatch and was desperate enough to blackmail her
to do it, well, what could I do?
He stopped me by grabbing both my wrists and holding
them. His grip was firm enough that I couldn't pull my
hands out, and firm enough that I couldn't do much to
resist when he pulled me up against his body. "I said
I'd check," he said softly, almost in a throaty
whisper, "not that you'd show me."
"What are you talking about?" I hissed, but then I knew
exactly what he was talking about: he was pulling up my
nightgown. I stiffened, but the way he had me pressed
up against the counter, there wasn't much I could do to
stop him. Besides, I reasoned, what difference did it
really make if I was the one to pull up my gown or he
was? I just closed my eyes and prayed it would soon be
over.
But David had different plans, and I realized it when
he put his hand directly over my shaved mound and gave
a soft squeeze. The feeling of a hand on those freshly
denuded lips was shocking and amazing, but it was the
fact that it was my own son doing it that made my eyes
fly open. He was looking down at me, his big, dark eyes
both taunting and lustful as he stroked the outside of
my pussy. "Well I'll be," he whispered, the hint of a
cruel smile curling his lips as he locked eyes with me.
"You did shave. And here I was wondering if you'd go
through with it."
I was too stunned to offer much resistance, but I did
manage to stammer, "You, you can't touch me like that!"
"I can't?" he mused, stroking me and sending some
terribly thrilling sensations coursing through me.
Having the hair gone really did make a huge difference.
His fingers were strong and thick and he made my eyes
go huge as he ran one straight down the middle of my
slit and slipped it inside of me up to the first
knuckle! "Seems like I am."
"But I'm your mother!" I protested, trying fruitlessly
to wiggle away from him. Unfortunately, the hand that
wasn't busy feeling me up was around my waist and I
wasn't going anywhere.
"Mmm-hmmm," he said, his soft exhalation ruffling my
hair. He kept the fingertip that was inside me still
and began to move his palm and the heel of his hand
against the skin that was freshly shaved. I gasped,
partly in shock... and partly because it felt good.
Even though it was my son doing it and even though I
most definitely didn't want it, that stimulation of the
newly bared skin felt very, very nice. It might have
been different if he'd have been clumsy or careless,
but he wasn't. It was obvious from how he was touching
me that he knew what to do with a woman's pussy, and it
was equally obvious that he was doing this with the
definite aim of getting me aroused.
"David, please stop this right now," I said firmly.
"It's wrong for you to touch me this way. Do you
understand that?"
"I understand it," he replied with a nod as his finger
slipped into me to the second knuckle and began to pump
gently in and out. Damn him, but he knew what he was
about, and like it or not, I knew it wasn't going to be
all that long before my body started to respond to that
kind of expert treatment.
He was moving just so, exactly right to hit every nerve
I had down there, and the heel of his hand was pressing
on my clit. I knew I wasn't hiding my rising excitement
because of my growing wetness, but also because my clit
was just loving the way he was treating it; it was
growing hard, peeking out from under its hood, and when
he moved his hand against it shivers ran through my
whole body.
I tried to wriggle away, and I had both my hands
pressing against his chest in a futile effort to get
some space between me and him. I may as well have been
pressing a mountain for all the good it did. I think
the worst moment, even worse than what came a few
minutes later, was when I realized I could feel his
erection through his pants. My son's cock was hard, and
it was hard because of me, and he was pressing it
against my belly so that I would have to realize and
confront that fact.
I guess it wasn't until then that I truly realized that
David might have something more in mind for me than
some brief humiliation and monetary extortion. I didn't
yet have any idea how far he would take me and the
entire family, but I was starting to get a clue that
his intentions weren't as simple as I'd believed.
It was when he shifted his hand just so and the meaty
part just below the thumb began to press the hood of my
clit against the little nub beneath that I gasped. I
didn't want to, but I didn't really have any choice
because the sensation made my pussy spasm around his
finger and made my knees quiver.
He was good enough that even if I hadn't shaved the
night before it would have felt wonderful, but with the
nerves awakened by the razor I had no chance whatsoever
of resisting it. I closed my eyes again I couldn't
keep them open to watch his face as he did this to me
but that was a token protest. I was wet and hot, and if
I knew it then my son definitely knew it.
"There you go," he whispered into my ear as he stroked
me a little deeper and just a shade harder. "I can
smell you now. God that pussy smells delicious!"
"You're... disgusting," I muttered through clenched
teeth. "How can you be doing this to your own mother?
What's wrong with you?"
His response to that was to push his middle finger into
me as far as it would go and wiggle it as he brought
his lips down to my neck and began to kiss the tender
skin right where it meets the shoulder. "Part of you
likes it..."
"Fuck you," I snapped, humiliated at my body's reaction
but unable to resist the skilled touch.
"Oh, is that what you want?" he chuckled, nipping my
neck softly and rubbing my clit with the heel of his
hand.
"NO!" I gasped, trying to pull away again. My heart was
hammering in my chest and I felt like I was losing
control, but the idea of my own son fucking me was
still more than I could deal with no matter how horny
he was making me. "Let me go, please, for the love of
God David!"
But he didn't let me go and he didn't answer. He just
kept stroking me, in and out, in and out, deeper,
harder, getting me wetter and hotter. I tried to be
good and ignore the sensations but he was just too
skilled and the feelings were just too powerful, and by
the time he pushed a second finger up into me I
couldn't even pretend to hide my gasp. It didn't just
feel good, it felt fantastic and I couldn't attribute
all of it to the shave. My son was very, very skilful
when it came to getting a woman wet and eager.
I didn't thrust back against his hand I managed to
keep that much dignity and I was pretty sure I was
too distressed for him to make me come, but that was
all I could do. I was breathing heavily, my nipples
were hard against his chest, and I was wet enough that
his fingers were making loud squishing noises as he
fucked me with them. I could feel my juices wetting the
insides of my thighs. I hated it, but my son was
getting me hot!
I'd stopped protesting because he wasn't listening and
I felt like my pleading was getting him off, but I knew
the protesting would start again if he tried to make me
touch him or do anything to that hard young cock I felt
pressing against me so firmly.
And then he stopped, so suddenly and without warning as
to leave me gasping, and took his fingers out of me. I
was ashamed of the way my pussy seemed to suck his
fingers and try to pull them back in as he did so, but
he really did know what he was doing and it had felt
better than I was willing to admit to him. I opened my
eyes and looked up at his smiling face as he said, "But
this isn't what you want."
"No, David," I breathed softly, feeling incredible
relief that he had stopped before my body betrayed me
any more. "I don't want this. Please, please, please
stop."
"I know what you want," he whispered, and then, before
I could answer, he turned and held out his fingers,
sticky and wet with my juices, to Charlie. The dog had
been sitting a few feet away watching me get molested
and he didn't miss a chance to get in on the flavor he
had first tasted yesterday. His tongue, big and sloppy
and eager, cleaned my son's fingers. "It's gonna feel
soooo good, mom. Now that you've shaved, you won't even
believe what that tongue feels like."
"Oh God no," I whimpered. "Don't make me do that again,
David, please!" But my pussy, that feckless and
independent creature that it is, betrayed me by
spasming at the thought of the sensations Charlie would
give me if I let him lick me again.
"Don't bother to deny it," David chuckled. "I know what
you want, and it's all right. When you're with me, it's
all right." He pulled back his hand and Charlie
immediately came in for more, nosing my crotch through
my thin cotton gown. Just the sensation of his nose
made me moan uncontrollably. My son lifted my gown up
before I could protest again and I felt Charlie's
tongue swipe across my mound above my clit; all it did
was get skin, but it was skin that was freshly shaved
and it was enough that a ragged and undeniably lustful
cry left my throat before I could stop it.
I was lost and I knew it. At the first touch of
Charlie's perfect tongue I knew I had no chance
whatever to resist. Charlie wanted to do it, David
wanted him to do it, and I wanted it too. All three of
us knew it and there was no way I could pretend
otherwise.
David kept tugging my gown up and I lifted my arms and
let him pull it away. He'd already seen me naked, just
like he'd already seen me get licked, so nothing here
was new for him. If he had done this before feeling me
up I'd have fought him, but I was way too hot now to do
more than mutter some token and meaningless protests
that all three of us ignored.
Charlie put his snout against my sex and began to lick
those juices that he loved so much, and it was
everything I could do to keep my knees from giving way.
I stood, my legs inching apart of their own volition,
and when Charlie finally got the angle to press his
teeth against me and fill my shaved twat with his
tongue I screamed like a wanton slut and braced myself
against the sink so the dog could get a better
position.
David just stood back and watched, and I did my best to
forget he was there. It was humiliating having my son
do the things he had done to me and maneuver me into
this position, but now that I was here I couldn't help
myself or stop myself. Simply put, I was Charlie's, and
if I wasn't yet his bitch I was at least his to command
when his tongue was between my legs.
I looked down at him, my wonderful friend and perfect
companion, and now my lover, and soon I was gasping and
moaning unashamedly and grinding my hips against his
mouth. I just couldn't help myself, and soon I felt my
orgasm my first, though not my last, of the day
beginning to grow inside me.
After a few minutes, David did something I didn't at
all expect: he leaned in and covered my moaning,
gasping mouth with his. At that point I couldn't do
anything but take it as he slipped his tongue past my
lips and gave me a long, gentle, and sensuous kiss. It
was shocking, to be kissed that way by my son, but I
was in such a state that it felt utterly amazing.
The surprise of it was too much to let me kiss back
during the twenty or so seconds that he held the kiss,
but I have to admit, to my shame, that if he'd have
kept it up for five more seconds I'd have been sucking
his tongue like it was a cock. Instead, though, he
broke away and gave me a smile that was loving,
lustful, domineering and wicked. "I have to go to
school," he told me, stroking my face with his
fingertips, "but you stay here and enjoy yourself."
As he turned and walked away, I said the most perfectly
stupid thing I could have. Through my gasps and moans
and the onrushing climax that was exploding through me,
I said, "Have... aaaaaaahhhh... have a... nice day...
oh GOD!"
After that there was nothing in my mind but getting
off. Charlie and his tongue wouldn't let anything else
enter my mind. My first orgasm took the feet out from
under me and I dropped to the floor in a heap, eyes
closed, panting. Charlie licked my face and I could
smell my cunt on his breath; for some reason that
seemed the most perfectly arousing thing ever, and I
moaned loudly. The next second my mouth was filled
and I do mean filled with his tongue, and this time I
didn't blow the chance to return the kiss the way I had
with David: I sucked that tongue like a whore.
How to describe a dog's kiss? It's definitely not a
human kiss, that's for sure. The tongue completely
fills the mouth, or at least it feels that way, and
Charlie was licking the inside of my mouth even as I
was sucking and kissing his tongue. It felt like he was
kissing my tonsils, for heaven sake.
I put my weak, shaky hands up to either side of his
head and held him there for a long moment, savoring the
way it felt and the way it tasted, a combination of dog
and me that drove me nuts. My eyes were closed and I
wasn't thinking about David or the trouble I was in or
anything else except Charlie, and me with him and him
with me. I love that dog so very much; I was only now
figuring out how much.
Neither of us were satisfied to stay there for long,
though, and when I uncurled myself and gave Charlie
access to my naked, hairless twat, he dived in after
it. I don't know how many orgasms I had because after a
while it seemed like one big ongoing orgasm that had
peaks and valleys, lulls and punctuations of frenetic
action. I laid on my back with my knees pulled up to my
chest.
I got on my knees with my ass in the air so he could
treat my asshole the same way. I balanced on my
shoulders and the balls of my feet so I could serve my
cunt to him on a platter. And Charlie licked and licked
and licked. I felt no shame, no self-consciousness, not
even any awareness that there was anything other than
this moment and the two of us in it. It was bliss
beyond bliss.
Eventually, though, anything gets to be too much, and
the pleasure he was giving me pushed past pleasure and
into discomfort, and then pain. I was reluctant to end
it even so, but finally I did, curling up and pulling
Charlie up beside me. We lay together on the kitchen
floor, me holding him close so I could feel his warm
fur against my naked body. I petted him and told him he
was the best dog ever and he seemed to agree. The
afterglow was intense and deep, and unlike the day
before, this time I was able to experience it.
It was a wonderful, relaxed, mindless place, a
delicious, soft, warm, content feeling that suffused my
whole body and made me unwilling to move or think or do
anything except lie there and feel and run my hand
along Charlie's flank. In its own way the afterglow was
as good as the orgasms; it was quiet and reflective,
but that made it all the more profound. I'd never had
an afterglow like it.
I may have napped, I'm not sure. I know I drifted into
a sleepy space for a while, and Charlie definitely
zonked out with his head on my big pillowy boobs. Even
after the warm fuzzies faded I laid there, just
appreciating the way Charlie felt against me. It
occurred to me that I was thinking of him more as a
lover than as a pet, but given the emotional need he
filled in me (and the mindblowing orgasms) that was
hardly surprising. It was wonderful just to lie there
with him and not to worry about what would happen.
Of course, eventually I had to get going. I finished
washing the dishes without putting my gown back on,
then let Charlie outside to romp in the back yard while
I took a shower. It was a long, luxurious shower and I
reveled in the way the water felt as it prickled into
my skin. When I washed my pussy I was struck again at
how amazing it felt to be shaved there.
I had only done it under blackmail, yes, but now that I
experienced life without pubic hair I realized that I
wanted to keep it this way. It was simply too wonderful
to do anything else. And so I shaved again, and did my
legs while I was at it, and by the time I was done I
felt clean and free and better than I had in a long
time.
That feeling didn't last long. I dried myself and
walked to my bedroom to dress. When I opened my
underwear drawer all the good feelings of the morning
vanished. My underwear drawer was empty, completely
empty, except for a photo that had been printed off a
computer. It was a picture of me on the sofa, holding
my legs apart with my hands and my face screwed up in
ecstasy as Charlie licked me. Scrawled on it in magic
marker was the following: "You need some slutty
underwear. Go to XXXFantasy Gifts & Lingerie at
Franklin and 22nd. Ask for Brandy, I told her to expect
you. Get there by one or I'll show this picture and
lots more like it to everybody you know."
I swore a string of profanity that would have made the
hardest sailor blush, and then I ripped the photo to
shreds and burned them to ashes.
And then I went to XXXFantasy Gifts & Lingerie at the
corner of Franklin and 22nd. I was absolutely miserable
about it because I did NOT want to do it. For one
thing, Tim was bound to notice this and ask questions.
Shaving my kitty was one thing because he barely ever
looked at me naked anymore, and even if he noticed I
could just say I'd tried it and decided I'd liked it.
But to get rid of all my old, sensible undies and
replace them with God knew what "slutty" things...
well, Tim was going to notice that. And what could I
tell him?
"Good Lord, he's going to think I'm having an affair!"
I muttered as I dressed in the least sexy clothes I
could think of: a baggy, shapeless sweatshirt, loose
nylon sweatpants that didn't even hint at a female
figure beneath, and an old pair of tennis shoes. I felt
freakish as I drove to the store, because it had been a
long time since I'd gone commando and the feeling of
cool nylon on my fresh-shaved pussy was distracting at
best.
For those of you who don't live in the Twin Cities,
which I suppose is most of you, Franklin and 22nd isn't
the greatest neighborhood. It's not precisely
dangerous, but it's surrounded by dangerous areas and I
felt like a duck in a shooting gallery as I parked my
BMW in the parking lot behind the dingy but garishly
decorated store and hurried around to the front
entrance.
XXXFantasy wasn't exactly a porn palace, but it was
definitely a step or five below Victoria's Secret in
terms of class. The clothes on display were trampy, to
be kind, and they had a whole section of sex toys that
made me blush just to look at them.
I stood near the door, looking around in bemusement at
the array of push up bras, sheer body stockings,
corsets, crotchless panties, and things I couldn't even
identify. This was where I was supposed to get my
underwear?
A few seconds after I walked in I was approached by a
pretty black woman who looked to be about 25. Her skin
was very dark and her hair was styled in dozens of
medium length bouncy curls. She was short but very
curvy, with big boobs and wide, sexy hips, and she was
dressed to show off her figure: a lavender minidress
that came off both shoulders and clung to both chest
and hip like a lover and a pair of very cute black
pumps with a 3" heel. "Hi honey, I'm Petra," she said
cheerfully. "Can I help you?"
"Hi," I said, feeling incredibly awkward. "I... um, I'm
supposed to ask for Brandy?"
It may have been a knowing look that passed over her
face then, but the smile didn't waver. She told me to
have a look around while she went into the back, and a
few moments later the door to the storeroom opened up
and a stunning young woman came through. She was a
redhead natural, I knew at once with the sort of
features that ought to have been on a Grecian statue.
She was tall and graceful, with long legs and delicate,
long fingers, and something in the way she moved made
me think of a panther.
She was wearing a red and navy blue plaid schoolgirl
skirt that barely covered her goodies, a little white
tie-front top that drew the eye to her perky boobs and
her bare, flat tummy, and a pair of sexy white
maryjanes that put a wiggle in her walk. She might have
been all of 19, but she knew how to use what she had.
In fact she looked like a teenage boy's wet dream, and
I couldn't help but wonder exactly what my son had done
with her. "Hi, you're Angela?" she asked. Even her
voice was sexy. "David told me to expect you. I'm
Brandy."
"Hello," I replied. I wasn't exactly sure how much, or
what, he had told this girl, so I was going to have to
stay calm and hope she wasn't the judgmental sort.
"Pet, we're going to be in Dressing Room #1 for a
while, OK?" Brandy said, turning and leading me toward
the back of the store, and this time I know I saw Petra
smirk. Brandy opened up the dressing room and told me
to, "Go ahead and get undressed. David was pretty
specific about what he wanted you to get and I went
ahead and laid most of it out already. I'll be right
back."
Left alone in the dressing room, I could only feel a
sense of impending doom as I slowly and unwillingly
removed the clothes I was wearing. I felt even more
vulnerable than before now that I was naked. Somehow my
new lack of pubic hair played into that, like I'd lost
a layer of protection or something, and I tried to keep
from looking in the mirror on the back of the door as I
waited for Brandy to return. In those moments I had to
wonder again why David even cared what kind of
underwear I was wearing... unless, that is, he intended
to see me in it. And if he intended to see me in it,
the odds were he intended to see me out of it too.
Well he'd already done that so there was no harm, even
if it was weird; but what if he wanted to go further?
This morning he'd treated me very indecently and he
practically had me begging for more by the time he was
done. Was my own son planning to make a habit it of
that? Did he want to... do more things to me? Even then
I couldn't quite bring myself to conceptualize that he
might want to have sex with me it was just so wicked
and unnatural. Surely, I reasoned, it couldn't be that?
He was just tormenting me a little with his newfound
power, that was all.
Minutes later Brandy came in with a veritable armload
of underwear and set it on the bench. She gave my nude
body an appreciative once-over and said, "We'll have
you try some things on. David wasn't sure about your
sizes... but he was sure you were a knockout, and he
was right about that!"
"Um... thanks," I mumbled, trying to keep my hands
covering my beasts and vagina. David had called me a
knockout?
"Come on, don't be shy," Brandy laughed, pulling my
hands down to my sides. "We both know he doesn't like
shy women. How long have you known him?"
"Uhhhmmmm... quite a while," I said, feeling a flood of
relief that he hadn't told her that I was his mother.
"And he's just now getting around to you? Lazy boy!"
Brandy grinned. "If I were him I'd have gotten into
your panties a long time ago. And speaking of panties,
what do you think of these?"
I tried to ignore her insinuation as I looked at the
underwear she held up. It was a sheer black G-string
with a lacy heart at the back. "It's... pretty. Should
I try it on?"
"I know it will fit you," Beck said, handing them to
me. "I'm good with guessing sizes. But I want to see
them on you. He said you were supposed to walk out of
here looking ready to fuck and I'm sure neither of us
want to disappoint him!"
"He said that?" I asked hollowly as I took the panties
and stepped into them. I had to admit that they looked
very, very sexy, and they felt terrific. They were so
very much not what I was used to, because I've always
been the sensible underwear sort and these were
anything but sensible.
"Mmmmm," Brandy purred, looking at me front and back,
"Me likey. Come on, let's try more things."
And there were more things, a bewildering variety of
them. Sheer bras and panties were the most normal of
it. She had me try on a red fishnet open-crotch
bodystocking, shelf bras that left the breasts bare,
and a black lace "teddy" that was nothing more than a
sheer bra attached to some straps that held up a garter
belt.
"So," Brandy mused as I climbed out of that last getup,
"I see by the rock that you're married. What's your
husband going to say when he sees all these naughty new
undies?"
"I don't even want to guess," I said earnestly.
"Mmmm-hmmm, David has a way of making you not care
about that kind of thing, doesn't he?" she chuckled.
"He can really make you lose control."
Given everything that had happened in the last 24
hours, I had to admit that David certainly had taken
control away from me. I also had to admit that Brandy
seemed to be showing more than a professional interest
in my body, a fact that was making me a little bit
nervous. Not that I had anything against lesbians,
but... well, you know how that sentence always gets
finished.
After that came a blizzard of panties, all of them
scandalously tiny, most of them see through, and more
than a few with crotches that either opened at the tug
of a string or were simply absent altogether. I blushed
fiercely at that, wondering what my son's skilled
fingers would do when they encountered such feeble
barriers.
Brandy was thoroughly enjoying the whole thing. She was
watching my body like a particularly hungry hawk and it
was difficult not to notice that her nipples were hard
and that she kept licking her lips. More than once she
took the opportunity to... um... help me adjust my
clothing, and her fingers were getting friendlier and
friendlier as we went.
I was too intimidated to stop her, even when she
squeezed my breasts as she took a bra off of me, even
when she pressed against me from behind and squeezed
both bare ass cheeks as I tried on a thong. I tried to
ignore it the best I could, but I could tell that she
was getting off on me pretending it wasn't happening,
and she was going to get bolder and bolder until I drew
the line... or I didn't.
I was trying on a very sexy little pushup bra when
Brandy frowned. "You know, I don't like that," she
said. "Take it off and let me try something." I did as
I was told, but what she did was a little surprising:
she took my breasts, one in each hand, and leaned
forward. Her lips encircled my right nipple and she
suckled it gently, drawing it into her mouth with easy
pressure and making the nipple hard just about
instantly couldn't help it, it felt good. She flicked
at the end of my nipple, teasing it with her tongue
until it was as hard as it was going to get, and then
she moved to the other breast and repeated the
procedure.
I stared down at her, her thick, gorgeous red lips
sucking my breasts, and I was too stunned to do
anything to stop her. This was the first time I had
ever in my whole life been touched sexually by another
woman, and it felt good in spite of how awkward and
uncomfortable I felt. When both nipples were achingly
hard and teased into life, she straightened up and
locked eyes with me. "See how the bra looks now."
I pulled the bra on as Brandy moved behind me,
encircling my waist with her arms and resting her head
on my shoulder so we could look in the mirror at the
same time. "There, doesn't that look better?" she
whispered, her tongue flicking at my ear. "With your
nipples hard and poking out like that, and your
gorgeous titties just spilling out... mmmm, makes me
want to get really naughty with you."
I admit my breath was coming a little harder than usual
when I looked at her eyes in the mirror and stammered,
"I don't... I mean... I never did anything..."
"With a girl?" Brandy chuckled, dipping her fingers
into the bra and pinching the nipples she'd just
suckled. Shivers of pleasure went through my body. "Oh,
you will. David will insist on it."
"He will?" I asked as I unconsciously arched my back
and pushed my breasts into her hands.
"Oh yeah, he wants all his girls to like girls," she
whispered, undoing my bra and leaving me naked.
"Believe me, you haven't lived until you've been on
your elbows and knees with your tongue in some dime
piece's pussy as David takes you from behind..."
The last image made me squirm out of her grasp and
blush crimson. I took her hands reflexively to keep
them from getting me any more worked up and said,
"Um... maybe we ought to... keep... trying things on?"
Brandy's grin was wolfish as she moved her hands to my
bare hips and held me there. "Before you leave this
room, you're going to kiss me," she said, her voice low
and seductive and wonderful. "You're going to kiss me
and you're going to put your hands all over me, and
maybe your mouth too, and you're going to do it because
I'm going to make you want it, not because it's what
David wants. You're going to do it because you're
curious and horny and because there are walls inside
you that are coming down and you just have to explore."
I didn't know what to say to that, so I just nodded
silently, though whether because I agreed or because I
just acknowledged what she said, I had no idea.
Brandy's reply was equally simple: she put her lips on
my neck and began to nibble the skin of my throat in a
way that made my knees wobble. My own hands found her
shoulders and clutched. All I could do was close my
eyes and loll her head back so she could keep kissing
me like that.
Her hands were around me again, squeezing my ass and
pulling me close to her. I could feel her nipples
through her thin shirt and they were just as hard as
mine. Part of me wondered how I could let this go on,
yes, but that part was losing out to the part that
found this all strangely thrilling. Here I was, naked
as the day I was born in the changing room of a
disreputable lingerie shop, getting kissed and groped
by a gorgeous girl nearly young enough to be my own
daughter, a girl who wanted me and who wanted me to
want her in return. A girl who thought I was David's
lover, not his mother. It was no wonder it all went to
my head.
"Do you like the way it feels?" she whispered as she
nibbled my throat.
"Yes." I couldn't deny it, my body wouldn't let me.
"You like being kissed by a girl?"
"Yes."
Apparently that admission was enough for her because
she pulled back and gave me a brilliant, lustful smile,
then reached down and picked up another item. It was a
halter top of a sort, but the trim was made of black
leather and the bra portion was an extremely sheer
mesh. It closed down the middle, between the breasts,
with silver snaps, and when it buttoned up it made a
leather choker around the neck. "Here, let's put this
one on."
"What kind of bra should I wear underneath this?" I
asked as Brandy helped me into it: I say helped me even
though she spent as much time playing with my breasts
as hooking the thing up. I didn't even think of
stopping her.
"Well that depends on where you're going," she grinned
as she pinched my nipples. "To the grocery store,
something black, either leather or lace. Out with
David... nothing."
I moaned softly at what she was doing to me and asked,
"Nothing? But it's completely see through!"
"Mmmm-hmmm," she purred, nipping my neck again. "David
loves to show off his women, especially when they're
like you."
"Like... like me?"
"You know, a little older than he is," she explained,
and then chuckled. "I think he has a thing for his
mom."
I blinked in surprise, though honestly I'm not sure
why. At this point, that should have been pretty
obvious. "He does?" I asked in a small voice.
"Yeah, isn't it hot?" she giggled. "A guy like David
wanting to fuck his own mom! The way he describes her
she's super hot, and he thinks she'd be an amazing
lay."
"He does?" I was starting to sound like a simple parrot
but the whole thing was too much to absorb all at once.
"Yeah, but he'll never get her." She nibbled my ear and
whispered, "But he'll be thinking of her when he's
fucking you nice and hard. I'll bet he'll be eating out
of your hand if you pretend to be his mommy."
I moaned as she pinched my nipples again, but the
images she was giving me were too powerfully perverse
to fully accept. "Well... maybe," I whispered,
unsnapping the halter and slipping it off. "What's next
to try on?"
Brandy smiled again and picked up an object. "How about
these?"
I looked at them and arched an eyebrow. "Leather...
panties?"
She giggled. "Yep, a G string." She sank into a crouch
in front of me and for a dizzy instant I thought she
would use her mouth on me... and I thought I might let
her. Instead, though, she said, "Let me put them on
you."
"Oh," I whispered, half relieved and half disappointed.
I lifted my feet one at a time and she slipped them on,
then pulled them up my legs and snugged them against my
pussy. I turned and looked at them in the mirror, and I
had to admit that they were sexy as hell, but, "They
aren't that comfortable."
"Oh, don't worry about that," Brandy said, reaching
around and massaging my breasts again. "Once David sees
you in it, you won't be wearing it long."
"Oh super," I said, feeling dizzy. I kept getting these
reminders that I wasn't doing this for me, I was doing
it for my son who was blackmailing me. And here I was,
getting achingly turned on by a young girl!
"There's a match," she went on, and soon had me
strapped into a leather underwire bra that gave me good
support even though it left the upper half of my
nipples bare. "What do you think?"
"I think I look... slutty."
"Damn straight," Brandy chuckled, reaching down and
squeezing my mound through my panties. "You look
fantastic."
I looked at my reflection in the mirror, and after a
moment I nodded. I did look fantastic. I looked sexy
and smart and dirty, slutty from the neck down and
refined from the neck up. I was a stunner.
And then my eyes drifted to Brandy's reflection, and
they lingered on her stomach, on her long legs beneath
her skirt, and then up to her face. She was an
astonishing creature. Her eyes were huge and green, her
hair perfectly red in the way that makes it glow in the
light, her cheeks high and saucy, and her lips... her
lips. They were full and round and pert, painted bright
red. They were moist and soft and utterly, completely
kissable.
I felt my sex clench.
It wasn't even a conscious act, what I did next. If I'd
have thought about it, I'm pretty sure I'd never have
done it. What happened was I turned in her arms, put my
hands to her cheeks, and put my lips on hers.
My first kiss with a woman was a pretty damned good
one. Brandy sighed and melted into me and I sighed and
melted into her. Our lips parted and our tongues met in
the middle, just the tips, moving against each other in
a slow, gentle, soft dance that was so thoroughly
erotic that I knew I needed more of it from the instant
I felt it. Her hands moved down and took my ass again,
squeezing the cheeks and pulling them apart, kneading
them and then, wonderfully, slipping a long, clever
finger underneath the strap of the leather G-string and
caressing the delicate, ever so sensitive skin of my
asshole.
I moaned into her mouth and dropped my hands from her
face to her shoulders. I knew, though, that the feel of
cloth under my fingers wasn't enough I wanted skin, I
needed skin, I had to feel her without the skimpy
little shirt in the way. I let my hands move down to
the front of her top, to the place between her breasts
where it was tied closed. A single, simple tug was all
it took and her breasts were in my hands, soft, warm,
nipples pert and digging into my palms. I loved it.
Brandy seemed to like it too, because now it was her
turn to moan, and she stabbed her tongue into my mouth
like a cock fucking a pussy. Her grip tightened on my
ass and she pulled me closer, grinding her pelvis
against mine. Out lips were mashed together, our eyes
were closed, our breath hot on each other's cheeks. I
squeezed her nipples, both at the same time, and I
marveled at the shudder that went through her in
response.
It was a strange but incredible feeling of power, to be
able to make another woman react that way. I won't lie
to you and say that I'd never even considered what it
would be like to kiss and touch another woman I think
everyone, male and female, has fantasies about their
own sex but I'd never really been tempted to act on
them. Now, though, I didn't think I could have stopped
if Tim himself had come through the door and caught me
red-handed, sucking Brandy's tongue and playing with
her tits as she teased my ass.
Brandy's shirt hit the floor right about the same time
my bra did, and our bare breasts pressed together. We
were pretty much the same height, though she was a
little taller with her heels on; still, she managed to
make our nipples meet and tease each other, something
that thrilled me to no end. It was amazing that I was
doing this, and even more amazing that I didn't want it
to stop. It wasn't precisely that it was a natural
thing for me to be doing, not like it had been with
Charlie when it had felt like something I'd always
needed and never had.
No, this was distinctly something I wouldn't normally
do, but somehow that made it hotter. This was me
crossing a boundary inside me, partially being dragged
across it and partially of my own volition, and I was
doing it because I was horny and because, right here
and right now, I wanted Brandy. The odds were that an
hour from now I'd be baffled at the erotic fugue that
had driven me to this, but I didn't care. Brandy had
made me want her and now I was going to have her.
I sucked on her tongue like my life depended on it, and
then I sucked on her lips. I breathed deeply and took
in the scent of the air she breathed onto my cheek and
the smell of her arousal and mine. I took her hard,
tight nipples between my fingers and squeezed, tugged,
rolled. I moaned like a whore as she moved one hand
around to my front and slipped it up inside the leather
panties I was wearing, and I pushed against her fingers
as she began to stroke my slit.
My hands were moving down, over the micro-skirt she was
wearing and then up underneath; I squeezed her cheeks,
firm and lovely, and then I hooked my fingers into the
waistband of her thong and began to work it down over
her perfect, generous hips she had my pussy in her
hand and I was going to return the favor.
Brandy slipped three fingers up inside me. I almost
screamed into her mouth. It stretched me, yes, but it
felt amazing too, and I was so wet they went in without
resistance. At the same instant the other hand was
teasing my asshole, then dipping down to my perineum to
gather a bit of my moisture. Then, as she began to fuck
me good and hard with her hand, a finger slipped into
my ass and began to fuck me there too.
I'd never, ever done anything with the ass (except had
Charlie's wonderful, thrilling, perfect, amazing
tongue) and feeling Brandy push a fingertip into me
there was incredible. I began to fuck back, rocking my
hips, pushing first onto the fingers slamming my cunt
and then pulling back off of those and pushing back
into the one in my ass; Brandy caught my rhythm almost
instantly and started working her hands in time.
I'm afraid my own actions weren't as deft or as
skillful as hers, but it was my first time touching any
pussy but mine. I was definitely eager enough her
bare pussy felt incredible against my hand and it
turned me on even more to think that I was doing
something that had been unimaginable to me just an hour
before.
I let my fingers just explore at first, and I marveled
at how different it was from touching a cock. Where a
man was hard and demanding, a woman was soft and
yielding. I let my mind drift to what Brandy had said
before, how David liked to take a woman from behind
while she was eating a pussy, and I allowed myself to
entertain the notion not with David, of course, but
not with Tim either. I imagined being between Brandy
and some faceless, brilliant man who was slamming my
face hard into her crotch, and I imagined how much I'd
enjoy it.
The pussy in front of me was enough for the moment,
however. I explored her lips, so much like a flower's
petals, so soft and so fragrant. I felt how her wetness
coated my hand almost instantly, and I wondered how she
would taste. I felt her heat as her sex swallowed two
of my fingers, sucking them in and squeezing them.
Her clit was hard against the heel of my hand and I
moved against it like I liked to have a hand move
against mine; her body told me to give it more pressure
by the way she ground her hips into me, and so I put my
other hand there as well, leaning into her to support
myself as I fucked her with two, then three fingers of
my left hand and rubbed her clit with the middle two
fingers of my right.
My orgasm hit me hard, and if it wasn't as good as the
ones Charlie had given me earlier, it was plenty good
enough. I felt like it lifted me right up off my feet
and slammed me down onto her hand, and I know I was
saying something like, "Fuck me Brandy fuck my pussy
fuck me fuck me fuck me!" and I was being way too loud
about it if any other customers were in the store
there would be no doubt about what was going on in
Dressing Room #1.
It took me longer to make Brandy cum, but I managed it.
Brandy kept up her own fingering, front and back, while
I fucked her pussy and rubbed her clit, and my orgasm
died out and spun up into another, lesser but still
intense. She was moaning just as loud as I was, and
when she screeched, "Oh you dirty fucking cunt finger
me FINGER ME!" and her pussy clamped down hard on my
fingers, I knew I had her. I felt a surge of triumph
I had made a girl cum! that made my own orgasm last a
little bit longer.
And then we were together, naked from the waist up, me
in wet leather panties and her in a skirt that was
pushed up above her waist and her panties to her knees,
leaning against each other because if either of us let
go we'd both fall. The room smelled like pussy, like
sweet, wonderful pussy. We both panted for several
moments, and then we looked into each other's eyes and
kissed again, a long, sweet, affectionate kiss, tongue
on tongue, lip on lip, our hands moving idly over bare
and sweating skin.
There was a knock on the door and Petra said, in an
amused tone, "Hey Brandy, if you're done in there, the
boss is on the phone and wants to talk to you. Want me
to tell her you're too busy fucking a customer to get
to the phone?"
Brandy and I both giggled, and pretty soon the giggles
were uncontrollable. "I'd better take that," she
managed.
"You'd better," I agreed, bending over and picking up
her fallen top; when I was down there I put a kiss on
her perfectly rounded and firm left ass cheek. I helped
her tie her top and kissed her again, just a quick
peck, as she opened the door. "Go ahead and try the
rest of the stuff on if you want. It should all fit
anyway. When I get done Pet and I will finish getting
you dressed up the way David wants."
I was in a dreamy little space such that I actually
smiled at that. "And what does David want?"
"He wants you walking out of here looking good," Brandy
said simply, and then she was gone. I spent the next
few minutes checking out the other things David had
selected, and I had to admit that he had good taste.
There were a couple of garter belts, eight or nine
different sets of very sexy hosiery like Cuban heel
thigh-highs and fishnets, a really lovely black and
pink boned bustier with garters, a couple of lacy
camisoles, a perfectly sheer red babydoll, and three
pairs of gloves: black fishnet arm warmers that came
almost to the shoulder, an elbow-length red lace set,
and a cute pair of white wrist-length things.
"Jesus," I said to myself, looking over the assembled
lingerie, "This is gonna cost a bundle. How am I going
to keep Tim from asking about it?"
I didn't get a chance to answer the question, however,
because Brandy came back, and brought Petra with her.
At this point it didn't even occur to me to be shy
about my nudity in front of Petra, or to resent the
hungry look she gave me as her big dark eyes roved over
me. "So, how are we going to send her back out on the
street?" Brandy asked Petra. "Got any ideas?"
Petra looked me up and down and smiled. "Oh yeah, I
have a few. She's getting a day outfit and a night one,
right?"
"Yep, David wants her fit to take out and show off,"
Brandy nodded.
"He does?" I asked, surprised.
"I told you he likes to show off his women," Brandy
smiled.
Petra went and got a top for me to wear. It was a
really cute little thing, a black crop-top with a
cinched waist and a truly daring cutout that showed a
lot of tit. I thought it looked great, but I didn't
think I could wear such a thing. The girls thought
differently though, and they matched it up with a very
tight red miniskirt that stretched across my hips and
hugged my buns. "This is pretty unforgiving," I said
with something of a smile as I looked at it in the
mirror. "I guess I'll have to wear a G-string under
it."
"Oh no," Petra smiled, reaching down and giving my ass
a squeeze. "You're not going to wear a thing underneath
it."
"You've got to be kidding me!" I said. "It barely
covers my butt!"
"Think how naughty you'll feel then, walking around
with your hot little pussy just barely covered," Brandy
pointed out, and I was sold. They matched it up with a
pair of red patent leather pointed-toe pumps with 4-
1/2" heels. Looking at myself in the mirror, I searched
for a good word to describe what I saw, and finally I
found one, one that my mother would use. "I look," I
said, "like a tart."
Both girls had a laugh about that, and both girls
seemed to enjoy stripping me out of the clothes. Petra
took the opportunity to cop a feel of my breasts and I
just smiled and gave her very impressive boobs a
squeeze back. She grinned just as predatorily as Brandy
had and said, "Next time you come back, I get to help
you try things on."
My eyes flared. I had never been with a black man, much
less a black woman, and I found the idea of getting Pet
out of her clothes to be a very interesting one indeed.
Still, the fugue Brandy had put me in was starting to
fade and the idea seemed more interesting in the
abstract than in the actual. "It's a deal," I told her,
even though I honestly wasn't sure it was. "How about
next week Tuesday, a week from today?"
She licked her full lips and nodded. "Come in early. We
open at 10 and Brandy can cover the store for a hour or
so."
Trying to figure out whether to spend an hour alone
with Petra kept me busy while she and Brandy picked out
my evening wear. The other outfit was a simple red
dress with long ruffled sleeves. It came down a couple
of inches past my butt, which was good I wouldn't be
able to wear panties with this either, and it wasn't so
liable to show off my kitty as the other skirt was.
However, the neckline took a dive to an inch above my
belly button, and the only thing keeping my tits from
spilling out was a rhinestone clasp in front. It felt
scandalous enough before they matched it up with shoes:
black leather five inch pumps with locking ankle cuffs.
I honestly doubted I'd be able to wear this out on the
town without my son, but then I also didn't think I'd
be able to wear the day outfit either. Petra and Brandy
were most insistent, however (they even confiscated the
sweats I'd worn in so I had no choice in the matter)
and so they sent me out into the world in hooker shoes,
a top that showed more than it concealed, and a skirt
that pretty much showed my pussy with every step I
took.
Honestly, the way it rode up when I walked made
modestly basically impossible, and with both hands full
of lingerie I couldn't keep pulling the damned thing
down so after a few steps I just set my shoulders and
pretended I didn't notice the head-jerking looks of
passersby as I walked around the block to my car.
On the drive home, the whole scene in the lingerie shop
began to seem strange and unreal. My lust had faded to
the point where I couldn't quite figure out why or how
Brandy had turned me on so much. She was... well, she
was a girl, and I didn't go for girls at all.
All I could think was that the events of yesterday and
this morning had left me a little out of my mind and I
had simply lost myself for a bit. It just so happened
that I lost myself when I was in the dressing room with
Brandy. Regardless, I was myself again, feeling
ridiculous in a new outfit that made me look like a
prostitute, ashamed for having done what I did with
Brandy, and aghast that I had made a date with Petra
(which of course I now had no intention of keeping).
And one thing was for sure: I needed some sensible
underthings. After all, even though David had taken all
my underwear, he only said that I needed SOME slutty
things, not ALL slutty things. And so on the way home I
stopped off at my usual store, wriggled into a thong
before I got out of the car, and bought half a dozen
reasonable bras and a dozen new pairs of regular bikini
panties. The salesgirl recognized me and commented on
my wild outfit, but I just passed it off by saying I
had been the victim of a practical joke at a baby
shower for a close friend.
When I got home, Charlie greeted me at the door by
stuffing his nose under my skirt and sniffing my pussy.
I admit that I shivered more than a little at the
recollection of what we had done together, but frankly
I was in no mood. Besides, after long lickings
yesterday and today and being frigged extensively by
both my own son and a strange girl, my poor coochie
needed a rest. I pushed him away, threw the first load
if my new underwear in the washer, and got dressed for
my afternoon run with the dog.
On the way home, I made sure to avoid the Anderson
house!
Chapter Three
May 9
The next few days were surprisingly quiet. The expected
scene with David in the afternoon didn't materialize.
Oh sure he looked through my new underwear but he
didn't make me give him the fashion show I was
dreading. He did have me model the two new outfits for
him, but he let me change alone in my bedroom and
didn't object that I wore panties underneath. His
comments, while appreciative and complimentary, weren't
rude or crude or even inappropriate he just told me I
looked good and the clothes were very flattering. My
greatest relief was that he made no reference to my
activities with Charlie or Brandy, and made no further
mention of what he held over my head. I wasn't sure
what to make of that, but I was grateful.
The first couple of days I didn't wear any of the new
underwear, I didn't let Charlie so much as sniff my
butt, and I didn't even look at David when I didn't
need to. I guess I thought I could bring things back to
normal, with normal being the way things were before I
let Charlie lick me. All of the things that Brandy had
told me about David wanting me seemed strange and
unreal, and by Thursday my scene with Brandy seemed
equally unreal.
I remembered it, of course, in exquisite detail and I
even found the recollection erotic, but it seemed as
though it was the memory of a movie rather than
something that had happened to me. I guess I was
divorcing myself from those events, or at least trying
to get back into the comfortable little shell where I'd
spent my adult life.
One thing that didn't seem remote or unreal was
Charlie. I tried not to think about his tongue and the
orgasms he'd given me, but I found that recollections
sneaked in at odd times and made me painfully, achingly
horny in an instant. It happened several times a day,
sometimes when I was alone in the house, sometimes when
I was out running or doing errands, once during the
family dinner, once when I was in bed chatting with Tim
before we went to sleep.
Each of those times it was such a vivid recollection
that it felt like I was there, like I could close my
eyes and feel Charlie's tongue filling my sex or
lapping my ass; I could feel his heat and his fur,
smell his breath and my own arousal, and I knew that if
I touched myself just a little I would cum wildly. I
managed to control myself each time, except for when I
was in the shower on Thursday after my run. I was
shaving my pussy and the memory hit me, and before I
even knew it I was stroking myself; I came screaming in
a few seconds, then came again a few minutes later.
Yes, I kept shaving my pussy. The fact is, after so
much resistance to it for so long, I legitimately loved
it. I loved the feel of being clean down there, I loved
the way I felt in my underwear, and I even started to
like the way I looked, with my little slit naked and
obvious between my legs. The fact was that by Thursday
night I had started to think of shaving as my own idea.
And as for being lewdly fondled and fingered by my own
son, well, I simply pretended that didn't happen.
Wednesday and Thursday I didn't wear any of the
scandalous underwear David had forced me to buy. It
sat, folded and neat, in my drawer next to the new,
sensible things I had always preferred. Every time I
opened that drawer I glanced at it, took some of my
preferred underwear, and then closed the drawer again
and didn't give it another thought. I guess I just
wanted to act like it wasn't there, like I hadn't
gotten myself into the fix I was in, and for a couple
of days anyway I managed it.
Tim found out I was shaving on Thursday night. Frankly,
I'm surprised he noticed for all the attention he'd
paid my body over the past few years. He had gone up to
bed early and was reading a novel when I came up and
undressed for bed. I didn't even think of it, that's
how much I had absorbed shaving, but as I was putting
my nightgown on (the same one I'd been wearing when
David had fingered me on Tuesday, though I'd washed it
since) he glanced at me and said, "Hey, that's a new
look."
For a moment I was honestly puzzled. "What is?"
He bobbed his head at my crotch and grinned. "Baldy."
"Oh!" I said with a laugh... and then it occurred to me
that maybe, just maybe, this was something he might
like. It wasn't as though Tim even turned me on any
more and I'm honestly not sure I even wanted to have
sex with him, but... well, it's good for a woman's ego
to have her husband want to fuck her, and it's pretty
hard on it when he doesn't. So, holding my robe up
above my waist, I sashayed my way over to the bedside
and asked, "What do you think?"
Tim looked at it, then looked up at me. "I like it," he
said with a smile. "It suits you. But I thought you
were against shaving down there."
"Well, I was," I nodded, reaching down and running my
fingers over my bare mound. "But I got a wild hair, so
to speak, and I decided to give it a try. Once I tried
it, I decided I liked it."
"I like it too," Tim said with a smile and then he went
back to his novel, and that was that. I went to sleep
and had a dream about Brandy.
The next day I ran errands in the morning and then did
my run with Charlie early because I was going over to
my mom's for lunch. On the way back on the run I
decided to take the route past the Andersons' place,
where all this began. I'd avoided it for the past few
days but part thought that avoidance was just silly...
and part of me wanted to see if it would happen again.
Unfortunately Nosey wasn't out and Charlie passed the
yard by without a second look. I felt vaguely
disappointed.
After my shower I went into my bedroom and pulled out
the outfit I was going to wear to see my mom: a modest
spring blouse and a pair of jeans (it was just cool
enough that I didn't want to wear shorts that day). I
opened my underwear drawer and took a sensible bra and
pair of panties and then stopped.
Slowly, cautiously, I took another look at the sexy
things my son had made me purchase. I hadn't worn any
of them, except when I modeled the outfits for him, and
it suddenly struck me as a little absurd that all these
perfectly good clothes were just sitting there going to
waste. After all there was nothing wrong with a grown
woman wearing them... and besides, who would know? And
so I picked up a sheer, lacy black bra that felt
wonderful against the skin, and a pair of black satin
panties that had a crotch that tied closed.
Deliberately I slipped them on and looked at myself in
the mirror.
Honestly, I can't tell you I disliked what I saw. It
looked so much sexier than what I normally wore, and
that made me feel sexier too. I thought once more of
Brandy and what we'd done in the changing room the
first time I saw these articles, and I felt my pussy
give a little twinge. I thought of Petra expecting me
on the coming Tuesday and my nipples hardened inside my
bra.
Sure, I still had no intention of going through with
our "date," but I had a few not unpleasant moments
wondering what she would look like if I peeled her out
of her clothes and contemplating whether she might use
her mouth on me... or whether I'd use mine on her. It
was all a harmless fantasy, of course; I wouldn't
actually go back there and meet her.
I have to say, it was oddly thrilling to have lunch
with my mom while wearing those scanty underclothes. My
mom has always been a modest woman and she raised me to
dress modestly too, and it didn't matter if the clothes
were the ones people saw or the ones next to your skin.
If she'd have known that I was wearing a see-through
bra over hard nipples and crotchless panties over a
freshly shaven twat she'd have turned purple; if she'd
have even suspected what I did with Brandy, or Charlie,
or God forbid David, she'd have exploded.
But she didn't know, and somehow having those
scandalous secrets suddenly felt very good. I didn't
even realize I was smirking until she asked me why I
was smiling like the cat that ate the canary; for a
moment I had the terrible, wonderful thought of what
her face would look like if I asked her if she'd ever
let her pussy get licked by a dog, and that made my
smile all the bigger. Instead, of course, I just told
her how proud I was of Laurel and everything she was
doing in school. I don't know that she believed it, but
she accepted it.
I have to say at this point that both my parents are
truly wonderful people. They're very salt of the earth
types, very blue collar, just like the neighborhood I
grew up in and they still lived in. My mom is a sweety
who was raised by a conservative Christian family, and
even though she dropped the religious beliefs as soon
as she was old enough to make her own decisions, she
still believes in a certain sense of decorum and proper
behavior. She was always a pretty, petite little thing,
just an inch over five feet, and I think she can still
fit into the same Size 0 dress she wore to her senior
prom. I got my blonde hair from her.
She never once discussed sex with me or my brothers and
sister when we were growing up; in fact, we were the
only evidence that she ever thought about the subject
at all. Well, that's not quite true: when we were kids,
my sister Sue and I snooped in her closet and found a
vibrator that looked as though it had been used a fair
bit; still, in spite of the evidence in front of us,
Sue and I couldn't quite imagine our mom writhing in
sexual ecstasy, and I think we both silently resolved
never to think of the topic again.
My dad has spent his life working in the rail yards in
St. Paul and he has the scars and hard, muscular body
to prove it. He's a simple enough guy who likes a beer
after work and a football game on the weekend. He was
never demonstrative when I was growing up but he always
worked very hard to support me and my brothers and my
sister and I always knew that he would be there for me;
he didn't even yell at me when I got knocked up in my
senior year of high school.
He's in his 50s, yes, but he still has the rugged good
looks that made him the masturbatory fantasy of more
than one of my girlfriends when I was growing up, and
it's only been accentuated by his silvering hair. He's
the one I got my body from, I think, with my solid
build and my height. Where my mom was prim and proper,
dad was profane and even jovial when he'd had a few.
Anyway I had a very nice lunch with my mom and as we
ate that naughty part of my mind kept telling me about
what I'd done in the last few days, just a little
whisper in the back of my head that kept me a tiny bit
aroused. On the way home I was squirming in my seat
just a little bit when a big semi pulled up alongside
and held its position.
After a few moments I looked up and saw a kid in the
passenger seat I'd guess he was maybe 21 or so, and
he was nothing special to look at. All I really
remember about him is that he had kind of an
embarrassing straggly teenage beard and a big smile as
he leaned out the window. I couldn't hear a word he
said, of course, because my window was rolled up;
still, I didn't need to hear to read his lips: SHOW ME
YOUR TITS!
I just laughed and waved. I mean, it's hardly a unique
compliment because he probably does that to ever woman
he passes, and pretty much every woman between the ages
of 14 and 60 gets that all the time. As they say, it's
a man's world. Anyway, I assumed he would just drive on
and that would be that... except it wasn't. The truck
stayed right alongside and the kid kept laughing and
shouting for me to show him what I had.
So I did.
That makes it sound a lot simpler and less amazing, for
me, than it was. Like I say, I've been subject to that
kind of thing plenty of times, just like any other
woman, and I've never, ever in my whole life done
anything about it except either smile or scowl (as the
mood hit) and drive on.
I was about to do the same here when something stopped
me. I wasn't sure what it was except that I was feeling
frisky and more attractive than I had, well, maybe ever
before this week. And the fact is that I didn't really
think about it because I was unbuttoning my blouse
before I even knew my hand was moving. When I did
realize it I could have stopped, but I realized that I
just didn't want to. It was like it had been with
Brandy. Suddenly I just wanted to do something that was
completely unlike me, and so I did it.
I opened my blouse, and, as the kid watched and hooted
gleefully, pulled it aside to show the left cup of my
sheer black bra. Then, feeling quite giddy with sudden
excitement and horniness, I pulled down the cup and
popped my boob out. I looked up at the kid and he was
leaning out the window, smiling like an ape and
pounding the side of the truck with both hands. I
grinned back at him, gave my hard nipple a long,
luxurious, thrilling tug, and then hit the accelerator.
The BMW left the truck far behind, and I was laughing
with wonder and disbelief as I tucked myself back in. I
felt like I was 18 again.
I got home just less than an hour before the kids did.
Laurel and David both got back at around the same time
because Laurel didn't have practice. I was happy that I
wasn't home alone with my son; I was sure that with
Laurel in the house he'd never try anything. It was a
huge relief that I could take some time and draw a
breath and actually try to figure out all the madness
that I had been through that week. It was enough to
make my head swirl and I was glad to have the weekend,
when Laurel and Tim would be around and David wouldn't
dare try anything funny, to let my mind catch up.
Or at least, I told myself that I was glad But the
thing was, even then, I was still wearing the underwear
David had made me buy, and I was loving it as much as I
loved my shaved pussy. David hadn't forced me to make
out with Brandy, he wasn't even there. And certainly
nobody but me had anything to do with the flashing
incident on the highway.
And as for Charlie, well, not even in my hopes could I
so much as pretend that being sexual with him didn't
answer some deep and soul-seated need inside of me, or
that I would be able to stop doing it even if David
never brought it up again. It wasn't as though I laid
all that out for myself as Laurel and David walked
through the door, but I was aware, on some level, that
my wishes for a return to the way things were was a
lie.
Of course, I strongly doubted that David would let
things return to the way they had been anyway, not when
he had as much dirt on me as he had. I didn't believe
Brandy's line about him wanting to fuck me at least I
told myself I didn't but I knew he was enjoying
putting me through my paces and humiliating me, and I
was pretty certain he'd want more money to keep his yap
shut.
I wouldn't have been surprised at further lewd advances
and I was honestly expecting him to grope me again, but
I didn't believe it was out of lust for me. I figured
it was just his way of being a shithead. But after all,
I'd gotten used to him being a shithead, and I could
survive a groping even if it was from my own son.
Besides, I'd gotten a shaved pussy and some new
underwear out of the deal.
Anyway, David barely said a word to me when he and
Laurel came in, he just grunted his usual non-greeting,
grabbed the leash, and took Charlie for a walk. That
wasn't all that unusual, and Charlie always enjoyed
going out as often as anyone is willing to take him.
Laurel watched him go as she shucked her backpack and,
when the door was closed, gave an exasperated sigh. "I
know you keep telling me I'm supposed to love him
because he's my brother," she said, "but he's, like, a
complete butthead."
I could only smirk. "Yeah, he is. Just another year and
he's out of here though. We can all last another year."
"If he doesn't get arrested first," she grunted,
sitting down on the sofa next to me. "What's his
problem anyway? I mean, why doesn't he like anyone?"
I paused and chose my words carefully. "I think... I
think that your brother is a dangerous person, Laurel.
Maybe not to us, but then... well, maybe to us too. I
think it's best if you kept as much distance from him
as you can."
Her eyebrow arched. "OK, that's ominous. Something you
want to share?"
"Nnnnnoooooo," I said, trying to sound casual and
almost, kinda, sorta succeeding. "But you know how he
is. Dad and I have tried everything to shape him up and
nothing's worked. You know the police have sniffed
around him sometimes..."
"You know I've seen him selling stuff at school,"
Laurel interrupted with a deeply disapproving frown.
"Crack, X, meth. I mean, not even just weed."
"There's nothing 'just' about marijuana," I put in.
"No I know, but he's selling hard stuff. Right in
school, I've seen him with my own eyes. He's gonna get
caught one of these days."
"Maybe. Probably." I hoped, and soon. That was a
terrible thing for a mother to think about her own son,
but I had long since stopped believing that I could
break him of his ways. Only the hard world could do
that, and the sooner it happened the better for
everyone. Including me, of course, but especially
David. He had all the tools he needed to be a success
in almost anything he tried, but he wasn't trying
anything good. Maybe some time in jail would cure him
of that. Almost certainly not, but maybe.
"And there was a rumor going around that someone saw
him making out with Mrs. Tate."
"Mrs. Tate?" I asked, feeling surprise and unease
mingling in my stomach. "She's the physics teacher,
right?"
"Well it sounds like she was teaching him biology,"
Laurel quipped modestly, "but yes, she's the science
teacher. The blonde one who kind of looks like you if
you were like four inches shorter and a few pounds
heavier? Not like she's fat or anything, I don't mean
that."
"No, of course not," I mumbled, trying not to think of
what that implied about David's desires.
"And it's not only that she's his teacher, but she's
married! And she's OLD!" Laurel said disgustedly.
I couldn't help but bristle a bit, even though I did it
with a smile. "She's not as old as me."
"Yeah but you knew George Washington when he had dark
hair," my daughter deadpanned, and I punched her in the
shoulder. We both laughed. "But you know what I mean. I
mean, if she was like just out of college it would be
one thing but she's got like three kids and a husband
and she's old enough to be his mother."
I ignored that last part despite the images it put into
my mind. "Do you know he was fooling around with her?"
I asked carefully. "Because if you do..."
"No, it's one of those, 'I heard somebody saw' kinda
things. You know David doesn't get caught doing things
he shouldn't be doing. He just does them and other
people get caught."
"Well, enough about him," I said with a slightly forced
laugh, hoping I wasn't sounding like I was avoiding the
topic. "What about you? What's new? What teacher are
you making out with?"
She stuck her tongue out at me. "Gross, my teachers are
all old women or lumpy middle aged guys with, like,
doughy skin. I don't even want to think about it.
Anyway, I'm looking forward to the party at the
Kushner's tomorrow. I can't wait to see Tony Sullivan."
I couldn't help but grin. Matt Kushner, whom Tim and I
known since high school, and his wife Sharon always
throw a big party the second Saturday in May and invite
all the old high school buddies and their families. Tim
and I love it because it gives us a chance to reconnect
with old friends, and Laurel loves it because there are
several cute boys there around her age and she's always
had a crush on them.
The biggest crush was on Tony Sullivan, who is the son
of Pete Sullivan and his wife Marites, whom he met in
the Philippines when he was in the Navy. Tony is a
gorgeous kid with the build of a dancer (which he is),
big eyes, and skin warm and brown and lovely. He's as
sweet as the day is long, but, well, he bats from the
other side of the plate, if you follow me. "I'm sure he
can't wait to see you too."
She brightened. "You really think so?"
"Sure," I nodded, completely deadpan. "You can compare
notes on boyfriends."
"MOOO-O-O-OM!"
"What?" I asked innocently.
"Tony is not gay!"
I gave her my best incredulous stare. "Honey."
"Gah!" she uttered, plugging her ears and la-la-laing
for several seconds while I laughed at her. When she
stopped she asked, "Can I borrow some of your clothes
for tomorrow? I want to look cute no matter what you
say."
"You always look cute, but it will be lost on Tony."
"Maybe so, but I'd still like to borrow an outfit."
I gave her a knowing look. "Like a certain blue blouse
that shows a little too much cleavage for a 15 year
old?"
She grinned a little sheepishly, but I couldn't blame
her. If I'd have had tits like that at 15, I'd have
shown them off too. "Mmmmaybe," she replied. "I have a
pair of shorts that would look really cute with it."
"We'll see," I replied. "Either way, we'll have you
looking nice for Tony."
"Thanks mom."
"Who will ask to borrow your blouse."
"Now you're just being mean."
I couldn't help but grin. "Yes I am. So... what else
have you heard about what your brother is doing?" I
asked, somehow unable to stay away from the topic.
"Anything else I ought to know about?"
She shrugged and grunted, "Ugh, the jerk. He's always
going out with like six different women and they're
always at least a few years older. One of the
basketball cheerleaders, this girl named Nancy Opsahl,
word is that he got her pregnant this year and her
parents made her quit school so they could home-school
her."
"Word is?"
"Word is," Laurel said with a shrug. "I guess her
parents have been really hard on her trying to get her
to say who the father is. She won't say but she swears
up one side and down the other that it wasn't David,
even when she's not asked if it was him."
"Which means it was him."
"Probably," Laurel agreed. She frowned and asked, "Mom,
what is it about him that makes people want to lie and
cheat for him even after he's fu... um, screwed them
over?"
I ignored her near-slip up and replied, slowly, "Well
honey, some people find your brother very charming. You
know how he can be when he wants something."
"Yeah, he's like really persuasive and stuff," Laurel
nodded. "But, I learned when I was like seven not to
trust him. I mean, how many times does the guy have to
lie to you before you cut him loose?"
"I don't know."
"And now he's like totally messed Nancy Opsahl's life
up, and she's still lying for him," she went on. "And
she's not the only one. There are guys in jail for
stuff David put them up to, or who knows, stuff David
actually did. How can someone so bad make people be so
loyal to him?"
I shook my head slowly. "I guess... well, some people
just have the Devil's tongue. No matter how bad they
are they can get people to follow them. No matter what
they do to those people, those people stay loyal. I
don't know, I can't explain it either."
There was a pause with both of us lost in thought, and
then Laurel added, "He must be really good if he can
get all those older women and twist them around like he
does."
I blushed bright red as I thought of how my son's
fingers felt in my sex. Yes, yes, he was VERY good.
Thankfully Laurel was looking down at the floor and
didn't see my flush or the way I wiggled on a pussy
that was suddenly and shamefully wet with remembrance.
"I guess he must. But we probably shouldn't." I let my
sentence trail off.
"I know!" Laurel said. "God, gross. I don't even want
to think about him doing anything with, like, anybody."
I could almost feel his fingers inside me again, the
way they had moved so skillfully, so perfectly, how he
had awakened every nerve in my pussy and made me gasp
and moan and open myself to him. His touch had been
incredible. I had been so opposed to him touching me
that way, and he had simply overwhelmed all my
objections with those clever, strong fingers and
brought me to the edge of an orgasm I desperately had
not wanted to have. I remembered the way my body had
felt when he stroked me there, how my cunt had sucked
at his fingers when he took them out of me.
I was so aroused my panties were wet and my nipples
were making points in my blouse when Laurel, after a
few moments of hesitation, said, "Mom, can I ask you
something?"
That didn't sound good, but it at least snapped me out
of my reverie. "Of course honey, you can ask me
anything."
She looked at me, then looked down again and asked,
very quietly, "How are you and dad doing?"
Oh dear. "We're... fine," I said. "Why?"
"Oh, just... wondering."
"No, that wasn't a just wondering question," I replied,
reaching over and taking her hand. "What's on your
mind, honey?"
"I just, well, you know, I... I've heard you talking to
Aunt Sue and it kind of sounds like things aren't so
great."
Fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck. It's not that I don't complain
about Tom to people I confide in, but I always try to
do it when I'm alone with them out of the house to keep
prying ears from overhearing. The only exception, ever,
was sometimes with my sister Sue. Sue and I have always
been best friends and sometimes where we get going on
the phone I suddenly find that I've been complaining
about my husband (or other things) for half an hour
without knowing who in the house might have heard what.
It was mostly just stuff that any married mother would
complain about, no more and no less, but I could
understand how that might sound worse than it was to a
teenage girl. "No honey, there's nothing wrong," I
assured her, giving her hand a squeeze. "It's just
there will always be problems when two people are
married. A good marriage is about working through the
problems when they come up."
Her worried eyes met mine. "And you and dad have a good
marriage?"
"I think we do, sure."
"I was just wondering... you know... if there were any
problems."
"Well of course there are, but like I say, any two
people will have problems."
"No, I mean like... problem problems." Her voice was
quavering a bit and her eyes were shining. This was
obviously terribly hard for her to talk about. "Like,
problems you aren't solving."
"Well... what do you mean? Obviously something's on
your mind."
"Yeah," she said reluctantly, "I mean I overheard you
and Aunt Sue talking about some stuff. Like... sex
stuff. With you and dad."
My stomach dropped but I tried to keep it from showing
on my face. Laurel was scared and I had to seem
confident for her even if I was petrified by this
conversation. "Yes?"
She nodded. "And how, like, he doesn't. Like, at all."
And now we had come to it. I could only admit it and
try to reassure her. "No, he doesn't much. He hasn't
for a long time. But it's not the end of the world.
There are a lot more parts to a marriage than that."
She nodded and did not look reassured. "You were
telling Aunt Sue how it was driving you crazy, how you
wanted it and he never did."
"It's... frustrating, yes, but it's nothing for you to
worry about," I told her calmly and gently. "I've dealt
with it for a long time and I can keep dealing with it.
It's not anything I can't handle."
"It was just... you said to Aunt Sue... that you
sometimes looked at other guys," she whispered, eyes
downcast, and suddenly I remembered the conversation
she had overheard. I had knocked back half a bottle of
wine after dinner about four months ago, something I
almost never do, and I had watched "An Officer and a
Gentleman" and I was so horny that I could feel my
fingernails wanting to cum. Most other women could just
have gone to their husbands and demanded a good, hard
fuck followed by a lengthy wordless cuddle and sleep,
but not me. Oh, I could have gotten the cuddle from Tim
but without the fuck there wasn't going to be sleep.
And so I called Sue and vented. I thought I was alone
downstairs, but I guess I was wrong.
"Well... sure, I look sometimes," I admitted, and then
I lied: "But that's all I do is look, honey. Sometimes
you can't help that when... when you're frustrated." I
wasn't going to tell her about my brief affair, and I
certainly wasn't going to tell her about this week!
"You look and then you think and then you don't act on
it."
For some reason, though, my words weren't exactly
reassuring her, and she was openly fighting back the
tears now. "I just... I don't want you and dad to split
up. Most of my friends' parents are split up and I
just... I want you and dad to stay together."
"We will," I told her, and once more squeezed her hand.
"We're not going anywhere, either one of us."
She wiped away a tear with her free hand and looked at
a spot on the ceiling somewhere behind me. "I was just
wondering... you know... mom, are you... are you having
an affair?"
I felt an icy shiver flow through me and I tried to
tamp it down and not think of David's fingers, or
Brandy's kiss, or Charlie's tongue. "No honey, I'm
not," I told her, my voice curiously calm. "Why do you
ask that?"
"I was... last night... I was wondering... you know,
about that blouse," she told me hesitantly, "and about
a bra that would, like... look good with it."
Oh no. "You were?"
She nodded. "And so I went into your drawer, to look
for the bra..."
"And you found my new underwear," I finished for her,
and she nodded miserably. "Well, I wish you'd have
asked before you went into my dresser, but I can
understand why that would rattle you."
She raised her eyes to meet mine. "If you aren't having
an affair and you and dad don't... do anything, why do
you have that stuff?"
It was an excellent question for which I had no answer
at least no answer I could even think about giving my
daughter. So I did the only thing I could do: I lied.
"When you get to my age," I told her, going slowly so I
could keep my mind ahead of my own falsehood, "you want
to feel sexy. It's a lot easier when you're 20 or 25
than when you're 35. And it's a lot easier when there's
someone telling you that you're desirable and acting
like you're desirable, but I don't have that. I wish I
did, but I don't. And so I bought some things that make
me feel sexy when I wear them."
Laurel nodded, but still looked perplexed. "But...
like... why?" she asked. "If you feel sexy and don't
have."
"An outlet?"
"Yeah."
"Well, I have an outlet," I said. "Remember when we had
the talk about masturbation and how it was OK?"
"Oh oh oh, oh wow, that's enough," Laurel said hastily,
holding up both hands in surrender. "I guess I don't
need to know specifics. It's just you... you wear that
stuff and it... gets you... and then you..." I nodded
and she looked baffled. "So... wait, that's all it
takes? You just wear a sheer bra and you... you know...
have to... you know..."
On second thought, that didn't seem so probable. In
fact, it sounded downright stupid now that I considered
it. I have never been a very good liar, and it tripped
me up again. "Well," I said, trying to stay calm as I
scrambled for another excuse that wouldn't make the
first one seem like a lie, "that's not all I do, I
guess. I mean..."
She waited and then finally asked, "What?"
I didn't have a good answer so I said the first thing
that came into my mind: "Sometimes I show them." As
soon as I said it, I cringed inside. What the hell? I
told my daughter I was a flasher? What was I THINKING?
She was going to think I was a pervert and
"Wow," she said, a slow and mischievous smile crossing
her face. "Really? What do you do?"
"Well I don't think I ought to..."
"Oh no, you're not backing out now!" she cut me off
with an eager laugh. "Come on, this is too cool. You
have to tell me what you do!"
I was a bit taken aback by that reaction and it showed.
I stammered for a bit and then said, "Well sometimes I
just show it, that's all. Sometimes I... show it..."
Now it was Laurel's turn to squeeze my hand. "Come on,
tell me one thing you did!"
I shifted and wondered how the hell I had gotten into
this situation, and how the topic could be changed.
Unfortunately I couldn't see any way to redirect the
conversation because Laurel was nothing if not stubborn
and she'd keep pestering me even if I told her to stop.
So, the truth this time. Even though we were home alone
I found myself whispering as I said, "Today on the
highway I flashed a trucker."
"You didn't!" Laurel laughed, obviously delighted.
"I did," I nodded, trying to smile even though the
conversation had suddenly taken a weird and
uncomfortable turn. "But you don't want to hear about
that."
"Oh my God, yes I do!" Laurel countered, tugging my
hand. "Tell me! Geez!"
"There was a trucker who wanted me to, well you
know..."
"Yeah, I get that all the time," Laurel chuckled, and I
could see why, with her figure. "But I just ignore
them."
"Well I do too, usually!" I replied, a bit defensively.
It was weird, being interrogated by my own daughter
about showing my boob in public! "This time, though, I
don't know why, I just... did it."
"What did you do exactly?" she demanded, and I even
though she was smiling I noticed an intensity in her
eyes that I found a little puzzling, mostly because it
was so out of place. Had I seen it in David's eyes I
wouldn't have been surprised, but I had never seen that
sort of... well, excitement I guess, from my daughter.
"You have to tell me. You can't tell me part of this
and not tell me the rest!"
I sighed and shrugged. "I just unbuttoned my blouse and
showed them my bra."
"And?"
God she was a perceptive little shit sometimes. "And my
breast. I pulled the bra cup down."
I was NOT going to tell her I had played with my
nipple.
Laurel seemed thrilled with what I had told her. She
asked me again what I had done and I told her again,
this time finishing with a stern, "But just because I
did it doesn't make it right. It's dangerous and
stupid, and if I hear about you doing anything like
that I'll dress you in a burlap sack until you're 18,
do you hear me?"
"Oh, I won't do that, that's not my style," Laurel
laughed easily, then added with a hint of naughtiness,
"but I love it that you do."
I blushed this time, a real and genuine blush that
pinkened my face. "Why?" I asked. "You don't think I'm
disgusting?"
"God no, I think it's so hot!" Laurel laughed, taking
me by the shoulders and shaking me a bit for emphasis.
"I'd love to see you do it sometime, to see people's
reactions!"
"Oh no, that's going a little too far!" I told her. "I
can't even believe I told you, and there's no way I'm
giving a demonstration!"
She nodded, but the mischievous look remained. That
should have been a tip-off for what happened later, but
I was so relieved when she changed the subject a second
later that I willed myself not to think about it
anymore. We started talking about her school clothes
and her perennial campaign for nicer shoes, and then we
were off on a very pleasant conversation that moved, as
conversations do, from friends to distant relations to
food to where we were going for this summer's vacation
to a dozen more topics.
We were still talking an hour later when Tim walked
through the door and I realized I'd completely
forgotten to start dinner. Laurel was off the couch in
a flash giving her usual affectionate hug, and he still
had his arm around her waist when he came over and gave
me my usual kiss on the cheek. Heaven forbid I got some
tongue from him occasionally. "How was your day?" he
asked, and Laurel shot me a knowing look as I said, "Oh
fine, but I got so carried away talking with our little
chatterbox here that I spaced making anything to eat."
"Noooooo!" Tim wailed in mock distress, then laughed.
"Well, I guess we'll have to get Chinese then. I'd kill
for some shrimp lo mein."
"Who would you kill, daddy?" Laurel asked.
"My boss, to start with," was his cheerful reply.
"We'll see who I can get to after that."
"Tough day?" I asked him, taking him by his hand and
pulling him onto the sofa next to me as Laurel sat on
his other side and crossed her legs under her.
"I guess so," he replied, taking my hand with his left
hand and Laurel's with his right. He's always been a
touchy, huggy sort. I just wished he was the fucking me
senseless sort too. "We got into it today about
Clarksfield."
I nodded. Clarksfield was a major new office and retail
space slated to be going up in Bloomington, not all
that far from the Mall of America. It was Tim's pitch
that had convinced Clarksfield and Co., the consortium
who were building the development, of the firm's
ability to design and build the thing. But ever since
then, Tim's boss Frank Grabowski had been interfering
with Tim's work on it. Tim's an easygoing guy as a
rule, but if you mess with him the way Frank was
messing with him, well, you got his blood up. Once his
blood was up, he didn't back down. "Is he still
threatening to take you off the project?"
"Oh, he hauls out that clown hammer whenever I draw the
line on one of his stupid ideas," Tim replied
dismissively. "But we both know that Clarksfield only
trusts me to run the thing. He's full of hot air and on
this one and I don't let him blow it on me."
"Just you be careful," I warned him solemnly. "In times
like these you don't want to be looking for a job, not
when we have two kids and a mortgage."
"If things get tight we can always tap into David's
college fund," Laurel piped in brightly. "I doubt he'll
be using it."
Tim frowned David was a terrible disappointment to
him, even if he'd stopped complaining about it years
ago but he also nodded. "True enough, that. There's,
what, a hundred fifty thousand in there. That could
keep us going for a while."
"Just Don't Get Fired!" I told him, capitalizing each
word with my tone and punctuating it with squeezes of
his hand. "We can't afford it, now or ever."
That earned me another kiss on the cheek. "Don't worry,
sugar. Frank won't do anything. We've been sparring
like this since I got into the company and if he was
going to drop the axe on me he'd have done it a long
time ago, not when 750 million bucks is on the line.
It'll be fine."
"It had better be, or I'll have to sell plasma," I
quipped. Behind Tim, Laurel grinned and mouthed "BECOME
A STRIPPER," and I blushed like a schoolgirl.
David brought Charlie back a few minutes before Tim got
back from the Chinese place. My son was grinning
wickedly and I feared the worst, but I didn't know what
he could have gotten up to with the dog keeping him
company. Charlie seemed pooped and went and laid down
on his bed as David tossed a much-chewed Frisbee into
the closet. "What's for dinner?"
"Dad's bringing back some Celestial Garden," I replied
as I laid out the plates. "Did you and Charlie have a
good time in the park?"
"A great time," he answered, pulling a Diet Coke out of
the fridge. "Where's the brat?"
"Your sister is upstairs," I answered. "She's doing a
little homework before dinner."
He leaned up against the kitchen counter and leered at
me. "So whatcha got on underneath there?" he asked.
"None of your damned business," I snapped, turning away
and making to leave the room. He caught be by the arm,
though, and gave me a squeeze that was just this side
of painful. "Don't put up a fight on this," he told me,
his smile still on his face and his eyes shining with
joy but his voice threatening and low. "I've already
had my fingers up inside that sweet, tight, juicy
little pussy of yours. Is this really where you want to
try to draw a line?"
"You're a shit," I told him venomously.
His smile didn't waver. "Show me what you have on."
My scowl was brutal but he was right and I knew it. I
listened a bit and heard Laurel's studying music faint
through the floor, and I didn't hear Tim coming home.
Fine, he could have what he wanted. I unbuttoned my
blouse, quickly and as unsexily as I could, and held it
open so he could see my nipples through my sheer black
bra. A second later I had my jeans unbuttoned and
pulled down over my hips.
"Oh, crotchless, I like that," my son nodded
approvingly. "Turn around and show me your ass." All I
wanted to do was get this over with so I didn't put up
any more fuss, I just turned and stood with my back to
him. All that was on the back of these panties was a
little triangle of cloth above my ass and one silky
strap over each cheek so it showed my butt pretty well,
but at this point that was the least of my concerns.
I wanted to get his sick little voyeur show over and
done with before either Tim or Laurel saw it. I didn't
even flinch when he put his hand on my ass and squeezed
my cheek. I did flinch, though, a second later when
that hand moved down between my legs and fingers began
to trace my slit. "You fucking pig!" I snapped, and
tried to storm away as best I could with my jeans
around my thighs.
And then my son grabbed me by the upper arm and slammed
me against the fridge. It wasn't hard enough to knock
the breath out of my body but I was so shocked that I
was immobilized as he pressed his hard young body to
mine and slipped his other hand down my front and
started to open the crotch of my panties. "I say when
we're done, mom," he told me, his voice a whispered
threat.
"Not you, not anybody else but me. If I want to see
your underwear or your body, you show it to me." His
deft fingers slipped inside my panties and touched my
cleft, lightly and teasingly stroking up and down. "And
when I want to touch you... I touch you."
I hated him for it, and for many other things, but he
knew how to touch me. Good Lord, he knew how to touch
me. I closed my eyes as the first ripples of pleasure
started coursing through my body. I didn't want him to
see what he was doing to me echoed back in my
reactions. "You'd better stop," I whispered. "Your
sister is just upstairs and your father will be back
any minute."
Two fingertips, one either side of my clit hood, began
to rock and put pressure on the little bud inside, and
my clit began to react, to grow and throb and pulse and
send out the most sinful and delicious sensations all
through me... but most especially into my pussy. I
didn't want to get wet, to have my body betray me in
that way, but I knew from the first I was going to lose
that fight. He was too much for me.
"That would be tragic," David told me, whispering into
my ear as he nibbled the lobe. "To have dad or Laurel
see me fingering your sweet little cunt... and to see
you loving it."
I moaned as he rocked my clit between his fingers. I
didn't want to, but I couldn't help it. "I don't love
it," I lied. "I hate it and I hate you!"
"Of course you do," he chuckled, nipping his way down
along my jaw toward my lips. "You hated it with Brandy
too, didn't you?"
"You're such a little shit," I told him venomously as
his mouth covered mine, but after that I couldn't talk
with a mouth full of his tongue. I didn't kiss him
back, not yet, because I had that much self-respect and
control at the moment, but I could feel my restraint
slipping with every motion of his hand on my sex or his
tongue in my mouth. I was praying silently that Tim
would get back soon and scare my son off... but even as
I was praying my legs were shifting a bit further apart
to give him easier access. I'm not proud of myself, but
I couldn't stop them... and with the way he was making
me feel, I can't say for sure that I would have stopped
them if I could.
All I know is that my son took my movement as the
invitation it was and adjusted his hand so his thumb
was on my cilt and two wonderful, amazing, skilled
fingers were pumping my cunt. I'm not sure who I hated
more at that moment, him for making me feel this way or
me for loving it so much. My gasps weren't fully
muffled by his mouth and they were obvious enough, and
so was the fact that I was now leaning with most of my
weight against the fridge so I wouldn't lose the
strength of my knees and drop to the floor.
David must have realized that I wasn't going anywhere
because after a moment he took his hand off my arm and
moved it to my tits, pulling down the cups of my bra to
bare my nipples to his touch. I could have run then
there was nothing physically preventing it but
honestly, I never even considered it. I was caught and
we both knew it.
The sensations were wonderful. In fact, they were
breathtaking. I had always loved to be touched by my
boyfriends before I married Tim, but when Tim's
interest in me died I sort of had to let that part of
me die too, or rather atrophy. Needing to be touched
and having no one to do it would drive anyone insane;
or, I guess, having a husband who wasn't willing to do
it would, at the very least, shatter your self-esteem.
But the part of me that craved contact and sex and
intimacy never really died.
It was always there, under the surface and not too
far under the surface. Charlie had woken that part of
me up again with his tongue, and now that it was awake
I was finding it hard to control it. So when my son, my
own son, put his fingers inside me and ground the heel
of his hand into my clit, my body caught fire and I had
no means to put it out.
His fingers in my sex and on my nipples, his tongue in
my mouth kissing me so masterfully and possessively,
the way I'd always longed to be kissed, his hard young
body against me and his hard young cock stretching his
pants... I didn't have a defense that could stand up to
that. He was giving me what I'd needed for so long that
I was like a desert coming to bloom with the spring
rains. How could I hold myself back?
And so, after several long, horrible, delicious minutes
of being kissed and touched, I felt my tongue moving
against David's. When I realized that I was kissing him
back I felt a jolt in my stomach, a surge of something
that might have been sickness, and I knew I ought to
stop because it was a sign that I was giving in to him
and I really, really needed not to give in to him
then... but I did give in to him, and I didn't stop
kissing him. In fact, I kissed him harder, sucked his
tongue, pressed my lips into his so hard they hurt, so
hard that our breath was one breath and our heat was
one heat.
Before I knew it my tongue was in his mouth and he was
sucking it as I had done his, and there was no way I
could deny my reaction now, no way to disown my body's
own urges. He wasn't kissing me any longer I was
kissing him, with my daughter and his sister right
upstairs and my husband and his father due to come back
at any moment. I was kissing him and I was loving it
the same as I'd loved it with Brandy, or even more
because of how filthy it made me feel inside. The kiss
wasn't as good as Charlie's nothing is as good as
Charlie but at that moment I wanted it not to end,
ever.
It was then that I realized my hips were moving and I
was grinding my pussy on my son's hand. I have no idea
when I'd started it, but once I realized it I knew it
felt too good to stop. I was going to cum, and David
was going to make me cum, and that was all there was to
it, and so I pushed myself onto his fingers, fucking
back against him, making my body shake and my pussy
quiver with every thrust of those perfect digits. I
arched my back into his other hand, pushing my tits
into his touch, and my moans were so frequent and so
passionate into his mouth that it sounded like one
continuous roar of impending release.
When I look back on it, I think this is the moment
where I really, truly fell. Up until now I hadn't
actually sought anything out, not even the amazing
lickings from Charlie. I won't claim that I had
struggled very hard against Brandy, I admit, but I'd
definitely let her take the lead and when I followed it
was only when I was so overwhelmed that I wasn't
thinking straight. But I had done my best not to give
in when my son touched me the first time, and I
certainly hadn't even so much as wiggled my hips or
flicked his tongue with mine when it was in my mouth
that first time. Up until now, I could claim the role
of the helpless victim. But as my son kissed and
fingered me, I damned myself.
I touched him back.
I felt his cock pressing against my stomach. He wanted
me to feel it, of course. He pushed it against me, a
rock-hard thing in his pants, unavoidable and
inescapable. At that point a memory flashed across my
mind like a shooting star, of when he was born and I
saw him for the first time, naked and mine. He was so
tiny then... tiny everywhere. He wasn't tiny now and he
wanted me to know it. He wanted me to feel his erection
and know that he had gotten that way from me, from
touching me, from taking me against my will with my
back to the refrigerator in my own damned kitchen,
where we might be caught at any moment. He wanted me to
know that he was thinking of putting that hard cock
into me, and at that moment I did know it, beyond a
shadow of a doubt.
I knew he would certainly fuck me if I let him, and he
would almost certainly fuck me anyway if I didn't let
him. It was a measure of how far gone I was, of how
excited and throbbing my whole body had become at his
touch, that I didn't find the prospect repulsive, and
my pussy even spasmed a bit around his fingers as I
thought of that hot, hard young cock battering me.
I've always loved cock. I love the way they look, that
arm of flesh that goes from limp to erect, from futile
and slightly silly-looking to potent and powerful and
just a little threatening. I've always loved the way
they felt in the hand, hard but soft, like an iron rod
sheathed in velvet, pulsing and alive and hot, with a
lover's heartbeat in my palm.
I've always loved the way they tasted... well, not so
much the cock itself, because with a circumcised cock
you might as well be licking his wrist (uncut cocks are
different, of course, something I know well now but
didn't have any idea of them) but the way the salty,
tangy drop if precum sends flavor across the tongue and
the way that sperm feels and tastes in my mouth when I
do a wonderful job of sucking it out of heavy,
dangling, cum-filled balls. I've loved every cock I've
ever seen hard, whether I touched it or not.
I've loved the small ones and the big ones, the curved
and the straight, the pale and the dark. I love the
thick I'm not a size queen when it comes to length
but I am when it comes to thickness; thick is
definitely better than thin; there's nothing in the
world like being stretched around a fat cock, like
having your nerves suddenly awakened and made to dance
by the presence of a hard, thrusting penis.
I always loved Tim's cock (when he would actually get
it hard for me) but if I had a complaint about it, it
was just a bit too thin for my liking. And so when I
felt my son's hardness against me and felt it twitch in
his jeans, I wondered if it was like his father's, if
it was straight and long with a thick helmet that would
turn purple right before he came. I wondered if my
son's balls were heavy with seed or whether he had
spent it in some slut earlier that day. I wondered, God
help me, if my son was as good with that cock as he was
with his fingers, and with his kisses. I wondered...
and I touched.
I sometimes tell myself that I didn't mean to touch him
but I know that isn't true. In that moment, as hot as I
was and with all those thoughts racing through my head,
I meant to touch him. I wanted to touch him so badly I
could feel my fingertips itching with the prospect. And
when my mind told my hand to move, I felt no hesitation
whatsoever: up it went, between our bodies, between his
legs, against warm denim.
I touched his balls first and felt them against my
hand, full and heavy and big, and I groaned into his
mouth again; I've always loved big balls. I squeezed
them gently and got a moan in return, and I loved the
way it sounded, so deep and masculine, so pure. And
then I moved up and took the tab of his fly between my
fingers and, with a single motion, had it down. He
shifted just a bit to give me easier access and he
sucked my tongue frantically, like he had sucked my
nipples when I nursed him as a baby. As sick as it is,
at that moment that comparison thrilled me beyond
words. I put my hand inside and found that my son wore
no underwear. Flesh of me on flesh of my flesh, hard,
pulsing, my heat joining with his.
I knew it was forbidden. I knew it was wicked and
wrong. I was lost in an erotic fugue, yes, but I wasn't
so far gone that I didn't know that I had just crossed
the line from being a victim of incestuous attentions
to a perpetrator of them. Furthermore, I wasn't so far
gone that I didn't know how stupid it was to be doing
this with my blackmailing sociopath of a son, because
he would use this against me as certainly as the sun
would rise tomorrow. I knew all of that. At that
moment, though, I didn't care.
I wrapped my fingers around his shaft and felt the
veins, thick and throbbing. Thick... thick. My god,
thick! In length he seemed about like his father,
perhaps seven inches or a touch more, but his was so
different from Tim's cock! It felt hard as iron in my
hand but the skin was as soft as a baby's, and as my
fingers curled around it I gave a startled and, yes,
delighted gasp at the sheer girth of it.
My fingers barely met on the other side of it! It felt
as thick as my wrist, and I shuddered at the thought of
what a cock like this could do to me if it were between
the legs of a man who knew how to use it. I didn't yet
know if my son was that man, but I knew that my baby
boy had the cock of my dreams. Slowly, luxuriously, I
began to stroke it.
He pulled his lips from mine long enough to whisper,
"That's it bitch, stroke my cock. You love it do" but
that was as far as he got because my hungry mouth
chased his and put him right back into that deep and
lustful kiss, lip on lip and tongue on tongue. I did
what I was told and stroked it, up and down its length,
up and down, again and again, pulling the skin up over
the crest and letting it come back again, pumping him
in my hand. He responded exactly the way I wanted him
to, by redoubling his fierce frigging and setting my
cunt on fire. I was going to cum!
I heard the familiar sound of Tim's car pulling up
outside and the garage door opening. My heart very
nearly stopped. I lurched back, or I tried to, jerking
my hand from his pants and ending the kiss with a wide-
eyed look of shock. Suddenly the erotic, thoughtless
place of pure sensation and lust where David had taken
me was simply gone and I was me again, the conservative
little Angela who was once more instantly horrified at
what he was doing to me, and what I had done to him. I
put both hands on his chest and tried to push him back,
at least enough so that I could flee, as I gasped,
"Shit! Your father's here! Let me go!"
His grin was pure evil as he sank two fingers in my sex
all the way to the last knuckle and wiggled them. "No,"
was all he said.
"Fuck, you little shit!" I swore, trying to push and
squirm past him. He was pushing my body with his again
and once more had me by the arm to deny my movements.
"Let me go! Your father is home!"
"So?" he chuckled darkly, pumping my wet, squishy, and
now spasming-with-terror pussy with his hand.
"SO?" I gasped. "He'll catch us!"
"Let him." He sounded completely unconcerned, a fact
which sent shivers down my spine. I knew at that moment
that he would be perfectly content to let us be caught
in flagrante delicto by Tim and that if I was going to
get out of this I had to do it myself. And so I did.
I'm not sure how, but I suppose stark fear gave me the
strength to shove him a step back. Or maybe he had been
cruelly teasing me about not minding being caught and
let himself be pushed, I don't know. When he went his
fingers went with him and I bolted like a fawn, pulling
up my jeans as I raced to the bathroom. I had another
scare on the way as I heard Laurel's feet thundering
down the stairs, but I made it just in time, slamming
the door behind me, locking it, and putting my back to
it firmly.
I cried a bit. Mostly it was sheer dismay at how I had
allowed my son to carry me away. Like it had been
before, once the erotic stimulus was gone I was
suddenly rational again, and I immediately appreciated
the fix I had gotten myself into. I didn't want to
leave the bathroom. I thought I would die of shame if I
did, if I had to look into the grinning, wicked mask of
my firstborn and have both of us remember what had just
transpired between us.
I looked at my hand, the one that had been wrapped
around his cock, with dismay as though my hand was
the culprit and wondered how the living hell I could
have been so weak and so stupid to put it into his
jeans. I had stroked my son's cock! And furthermore, I
had done it because I wanted to do it, and I had loved
doing it as I did it! I was out of my mind! My hand
felt filthy, and suddenly I was washing it in hot
water, as hot as I could tolerate. A moment later I
ripped off my jeans and the offending, still untied
crotchless panties and was washing my pussy cold
water this time, thank you very much as I tried to
rinse away the remembrance of what had just happened. I
washed and I washed
And I froze when there was a knock on the door. "Mom?"
came Laurel's voice. "You OK?"
"Ummm... yes," I replied, clutching at the sink with
both hands. "Just feeling a little woozy all of a
sudden."
"Uh oh," she replied, sounding concerned. "You getting
sick?"
"No no, I'm fine, just a bit lightheaded."
"OK. Well come on out. Between dad and jerkface I can't
guarantee you're going to get an egg roll unless you
hurry."
"Be there in a bit." And I was, though I made a stop in
my bedroom and quickly put on the most sensible pair of
bikini panties I owned. I had to do that much just to
restore some sense of self control. As I came to the
table my husband and children were gathered around it
and the white food containers were in the middle.
Charlie was on the floor at Laurel's feet, watching
avidly as she ate (the dog definitely knows where his
interests lie, since Laurel has always been the most
likely to sneak him people food).
I honestly expected some sort of taunt from David, even
if it was just a leer or a wink or some other nonverbal
cue, but all he did was glance up at me when I walked
in and then returned his attention to his plate again
like I wasn't even worth his notice. I felt relieved,
yes, but I also couldn't help but feel a bit
irrationally insulted. Was I that unimportant to him?
Was what we had just done so trivial? I took my chair.
"Saved you an egg roll, mom," Laurel said as she passed
me the bag. I thanked her and took the bag, then began
loading my plate with bits of this and that. There was
the shrimp lo mein Tim loved so much, plus white and
veggie fried rice, tofu with vegetables, Mongolian
beef, cream cheese wontons and sweet and sour pork. A
little bit of each thing made a meal.
"I'm looking forward to the party tomorrow," Tim said
as we ate. "I always love getting together with the old
crew. I just wish we did it more often."
"Me too," Laurel put in as she shot me a significant
look, and we both grinned. "I love seeing those
people."
"Especially the little faggot?" David asked cheerfully,
and Laurel rounded on him with a sneer, shouting, "Tony
is not gay!"
"We do not use derogatory language in this house, and
that means you," Tim said, looking stonily at David.
"My bad," David replied cheerfully, reaching for some
more sweet and sour. "That was a dick thing to say. I
don't even care which way somebody goes, I was just
saying it to get a rise out of the midget."
Laurel rolled her eyes and returned to her food.
Tim nodded, the moment hanging uncomfortably, and then
added, "But Tony is gay. Not that there's anything
wrong with that."
"DA-A-A-ADDY!" Laurel wailed, and the rest of us
couldn't help but laugh. Laurel picked up a piece of
rice off her plate and threw it playfully at Tim, and
when it hit the floor Charlie was on it in a flash.
Everyone knew better than to get between him and food
that was on the ground.
Still chuckling, Tim looked down the table at David and
asked, "Are you going to the party?"
"Nah," he replied with a shake of his head. Of course
he wasn't. As much as Laurel loved the annual get
together, David disliked it. Even when he was little it
had been a challenge to get him to go, and as soon as
he was old enough to be a big pain in the neck about
it, we stopped making him attend. It had been three or
four years since he had been there and I didn't expect
he would ever go again. In a way, I reflected, that was
a good thing doing something with my husband and
daughter, when David wasn't around, was just the thing
to make me feel like I was in control a little more. I
glanced over at him just as he looked up at me and
asked me, "How are you feeling, mom?"
I froze a second, then continued eating as casually as
I could. "I'm fine. Why?"
"Well, you ran out of here to splash some water on your
face," he replied smoothly. "You said you were feeling
a little flushed."
"Oh, I'm fine," I told him, still staring at my plate.
"I think I just needed to get some food."
"This is good food, too," Tim said. "We haven't eaten
from Celestial Garden in a long time. That funny old
lady is still there." In an instant, all four of us
said, in a thick and atrocious Chinese accent, "How you
rike da spicy?" and laughed heartily. A few years back
we used to go to that restaurant pretty often, and
there was an old woman the owner's grandmother, we
figured, because she was so wrinkly that Tim always
said she looked like a shrunken apple head, a reference
that missed the kids completely. who used to come
around to every table, smile hugely, and ask, "How you
like the spices?" It became a family inside joke, one
certain to get a laugh no matter when or in what
circumstances it was used. It felt good to laugh
together as a group again, something we hadn't done
much of recently.
After a moment, Tim asked, "So, David, how's school
going?"
"School's school," he replied with a shrug. "Same BS,
different day."
Tim frowned and shot me a look; I just raised an
eyebrow and kept eating. This fight wasn't one I wanted
to have, particularly not now. Tim, though, was not to
be dissuaded. "Well, how are your grades?"
"Eh, probably Bs and Cs."
"You could get As easily enough if you applied
yourself," Tim pressed, though gently. "You've got the
brains for it."
"Yeah I know," David said, shrugging again. "I just
don't think school's for me. You know?"
"No I don,t know," Tim answered just a little sharply.
"The world doesn't owe you a living and it won't give
you one unless you earn it. You're old enough to know
that by now. How are you going to earn a living without
a college degree?"
David's grin was both knowing and dismissive. "There
are always ways to make money, you know. You just need
to have the energy."
"What ways are we talking about here?" Tim asked, his
voice rising a bit. "Because the ways you're showing so
far aren't going to get you anywhere but..."
"Tim," I cut him off with a soft word and a pleading
look. "Please, not now. OK?"
Tim bit back his words and nodded, lapsing into a
disgruntled silence. I glanced at Laurel and she was
looking positively smug about seeing her brother
getting smacked down, however incompletely. With a
cheerful voice she said, "I'm getting straight As.
Again."
"Oh boy, straight As," David echoed mockingly, his
voice sing-songy. "The Magical Princess is getting
straight As again this semester. Let's build her a
shrine!"
Laurel snorted. "And where's your shrine, drug boy?"
"Don't you dare make fun of your sister for being a
good student!" Tim nearly yelled. "She's going to make
something of herself! And what are you going to do?"
David opened his mouth to reply but I cut him off with
a loud, "Can we PLEASE just eat a meal in peace?" The
other three bit their tongues and fell quiet, though I
heard Laurel mutter, "It's always peaceful when he's
not around." It was quiet enough just barely that I
could ignore it, and so I did.
After a couple of minutes, Laurel ventured, "I think
the weather's going to be nice tomorrow for the party."
"I hope so," I said quickly, glad for the pleasant
conversation. "It's always so much more fun when we can
go outside."
"I think I'm getting too old for the pickup basketball
game, though," Tim frowned. "When it was all us old
farts at least we were all on the same level, but now
that the kids are getting old enough to join in, it's
like I'm playing with my feet in cement."
Laurel laughed. "Oh God, remember last year? Judy
Rourke just schooled you!"
"Don't remind me!" Tim said, making a sour face and
laughing with her. "It was bad enough getting scored on
at will by a 16 year old, but to have it be a girl? I'm
not sure I could take the humiliation again!"
"Well don't feel too bad, she already has a few
colleges sniffing around her," I chuckled. "I was
talking to Tiffany" (Tiffany Rourke was Judy's mom)
"and she was saying that they've already been visited
by recruiters for the U of M, Wisconsin, Michigan... a
couple of others. Tennessee, maybe?"
"Wow, Tennessee?" Tim asked, truly impressed. "OK, now
I don't feel so bad. If the Lady Vols want her then
she's legitimately out of my league."
There was a couple more minutes of amiable talk before
I spotted Laurel accidentally on purpose dropping a big
chunk of sweet and sour on the floor, and I heard
Charlie scrambling for it. "Honey, don't give the dog
people food, you'll spoil him!" I told her.
"I just dropped it accidentally," she replied, eyes
wide like a fawn's and just as innocent.
"Lies make baby Jesus cry," David said with a smile,
and Laurel didn't miss a beat: "In that case the Virgin
Mary must hate you. You keep Jesus up screaming his
head off all night."
I glanced at David to warn him off of a fighting
answer, but my words froze in my mouth. As soon as he
saw me looking at him, he popped the middle finger of
his right hand into his mouth and began to suck it,
looking me squarely in the eye. I instantly realized
that it was one of the fingers he had just had inside
of me, and my throat clenched tight. "Mmmm, this sweet
and sour is really good," he said, savoring my flavor.
"Gah, gross, use a napkin!" Laurel said, dismayed.
"I don't want to miss a drop," was David's playful
reply, taking that finger from his mouth and licking
the other that he had used in me. "This is delicious.
I'm going to be getting this a lot from now on!"
"Well just... use a napkin," Laurel frowned. "Nobody
wants to see that."
I held my eyes to my plate for the rest of the meal and
didn't say a word. I hoped that would be the end of the
taunting from my son for the night, but I was wrong. As
the dinner wound down the other three conversed more or
less nicely, to the point that even Laurel and David
got along. It wasn't as though they always fought,
after all, but they didn't care much for each other and
David liked to push Laurel's buttons; Laurel, on the
other hand, has never been one to stand idly by while
her buttons got pushed, and she would strike back when
he did it.
But if David could keep his sociopathy in check, then
they got along well enough, and he did for the rest of
the meal. They talked about neighbors, sports, and the
weather. David told an amusing story about how, when he
had been playing Frisbee with Charlie in the park that
afternoon, he had throw the disc and Charlie has,
uncharacteristically, missed it; the Frisbee had sailed
on and hit a jogger in the side of the head; the jogger
had turned out to be an off-duty cop who didn't enjoy
getting a dog-slobber-covered Frisbee upside the
noggin, and David had had a few tense moments
explaining that it had been an accident. I was too
rattled by David's promise to be getting a lot more of
me from now on to do anything more than nod.
As we were cleaning up, David suddenly turned to Tim
and asked, "Dad, have you ever had brandy?"
"Yes I have and you're too young to be drinking it,"
was Tim's prompt reply, even though everyone knew that
such admonitions would have no effect on our son.
"Why?"
"Just wondering," he said, and then he turned to me
with a large, innocent smile. "What about you, mom?
Have you ever had Brandy?" I could hear the
capitalization in his tone, even if nobody else could,
and I blushed.
"Yes, I have," I said, turning my back to him and
tossing the paper containers into the trash.
"Did you like it?"
"Not really," I replied, suddenly shaking a bit.
"Not even a little?" David asked.
No, not even a little," I said.
"What do you care if she liked brandy or not?" Laurel
asked, coming to my defense as she often did.
"Just curious," he replied with a chuckle. "Brandy
speaks highly of her."
"Pfft, idiot," Laurel muttered, then turned to go
outside and play catch with her father. As soon as the
door closed behind her and I was alone with my son, I
whirled to face him. "All right," I demanded sharply,
"what did she say about me?"
He grinned and moved close to me. I didn't bother to
try to back away; if he wanted to be close to me, he
would just follow anyway. He put one hand around my
waist and pulled me to him. "She said you were pretty
into it," he whispered, looking into my eyes. "She said
you got pretty hot and heavy with her."
I glared back angrily, but most of the anger came from
embarrassment. "I don't like girls, David."
"But you like Brandy. Or at least you did. She said
your fingers got pretty busy." To emphasize, he put his
hand on my crotch and gave my mound a gentle squeeze
through my jeans.
"I got carried away," I muttered, trying not to
remember how good my son was with his hands. "That
doesn't mean I want to repeat it."
Outside I could hear the thwap of a baseball hitting a
glove, and Tim and Laurel's laughter. His eyebrow
arched as he undid my jeans and pushed them down over
my hips, taking my modest panties with them. "Really?"
"Really," I said firmly, keeping my legs tightly shut.
"She said you made a date with her friend for Tuesday."
His fingers were stroking as much of me as I'd let him
get at, which wasn't much. I wasn't going to let him
get me worked up again.
"Well it's not a date I intend to keep."
"Did you like kissing her?" he asked, leaning in and
nuzzling my neck in a way that felt better than I was
willing to admit. "She said you kissed first."
"I got carried away," I repeated, trying to squirm
away.
"Carried away enough that you came a few times?" he
chuckled, his hand taking the opportunity presented by
my fidgeting to slip between my legs and find my slit.
My thighs clamped tightly shut around it, but he was
already stroking me in his damnably skilled way.
"Yes, that carried away," I told him. "But it was a
lapse in judgment. It won't happen again."
"Not even with her hot little black lezzie friend?" he
asked, kissing the side of my mouth.
I turned my head. "No, not even with her. I'm not going
to see her again." His thumb was on my clit and
rubbing, and I could feel myself getting wet. "Now
knock this shit off and leave me alone."
"Brandy said you were a fantastic kisser," he said,
bringing his lips to mine and brushing them together.
"I have to agree. I love kissing you, mom." And then he
proved it by putting his lips on mine and pushing his
tongue into my mouth. I couldn't stop him but I didn't
kiss back; I just listed to the sounds of my husband
and daughter engaged in wholesome play outside and let
him do what he was going to do anyway. My lack of
response didn't seem to faze him, because he was
smiling as he pulled his mouth away a few seconds later
and mock-scolded me, "Now I know you didn't kiss Brandy
like that. She said you had your tongue down her throat
and you were grinding on her..."
"Stop it!" I said, pushing him away from me as hard as
I could. He let himself be pushed, and I yanked up my
panties and jeans. "Yes, fine, I liked it with Brandy.
I kissed her, I fingered her, I made her cum and I came
when she did me. Is that what you wanted to hear? Will
you leave me alone now?"
He smiled at me, his handsome face genuinely joyful,
and he said the last thing I expected to hear: "Yes." I
know my surprise showed on my face because he laughed
at me and then said, "I'm going out. I'll be back late.
Don't wait up."
He turned then and walked out, jingling his car keys in
his hand. I watched him go and then stood for almost
five minutes, shaking and shivering. When I had calmed
myself down, I took Charlie and went outside to be with
Laurel and Tim.
To be continued?
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The author does not condone child abuse, this story is
meant as an erotic fantasy not real life. Anyone acting
out such scenarios in "real life" can look forward to
many unproductive years getting it up the butt by a
fellow convict in their local prison.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 62