("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`) (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-' _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,' (((' (((-((('' (((( K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N _________________________________________ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!! _________________________________________ Scroll down to view text -------------------------------------------------------- This work is copyrighted to the author © 2009. Please don't remove the author information or make any changes to this story. All rights reserved. Thank you for your consideration. -------------------------------------------------------- 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? *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* 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. *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* Kristen's collection - Directory 62