Bratby was talking about the native tribe in the remote African
valley where he had been studying mountain gorillas.
"If the woman has several lovers, and most of them do," Bratby
observed, "the child has many fathers and one main father.
Simple people, they think all the men have made her a bit
pregnant. As if you can be a bit pregnant, eh?"
He sniggered and sucked deeply on his cheroot.
"No reason why you shouldn't be one of the fathers for your own
kid," Bratby said.
I made an unidentifiable sound. "Your wife's kid," Bratby said
with a guffaw, "Eh?"
Sometimes Bratby let me pull away and answer him, other times he
got angry if I didn't continue to suck his engorged penis. He was
contentedly smoking his cheroot and had a glass of whisky on a
table a few feet away. He reached for the whisky and I had to move
slightly on my knees and turn my head with him, sucking harder to
keep the swollen cock from twisting away from me. It was one of
the dozens of little tests Bratby had devised for testing my
submission.
"Not so cocky now, are we?" he said contentedly, sipping his whisky.
Not that he needed to test me. A month ago he had made me strip
naked, here in this room in the little gate-lodge. I had begged
him not to force me, but he had insisted. This was the way he was
going to pay me back, he'd said. He had mocked the limp appendage
I called a penis as I stood in shame before him. He'd forced me
to take off his trousers for him, to reveal the proud almost
perpendicular tilt of his magnificent organ through his underpants.
He had seen the sick submission in my eyes when I knelt naked
between his knees and he had mockingly accepted my unconditional
surrender. I was then made to beg to be allowed to suck his turgid
cock. The swollen head of his penis was poised above me like a
cobra head and I had reached out my tongue and touched the glazed
purple glans corona which showed through the stretched foreskin,
a tiny drop of pre-cum beading out of the meatus. He had directed
me to first trace the outline of the head of his turgid member,
then ring the shaft of the penis in a spiralling motion with the
tip of my tongue, feeling the erect rod slap against my cheekbones
and nose as I did so, then on to his scrotum sac with the soft,
pigskin texture of the skin, the firm plum-sized testicles nesting
swollen inside. My tongue strayed into his pubic hair and I
smelled the strong scent of his languid arousal as I again dipped
my head and traced my tongue along the line of his perineum. He
lifted up slightly in the chair, putting his feet over my bent
shoulders to allow me to tongue his asshole.
All this I remembered now, on my knees again before him in the
early winter dark in the little gate-lodge of the old manor house
my wife and I were trying to renovate. How he had ejaculated the
first time into an empty whisky tumbler to show me how copious
his cum was. The way his ejaculation had spat furiously into the
glass and how he had milked his cum to the last drop from his
still engorged penis. Whenever I saw my own cum it was just a pea
sized blob which climbed wearily out of my penis and had to be
squeezed and shaken off, not this violent eruption of white jelly
produced by Bratby's shapely plums. How, later, after he had come
twice in my throat, he had made me drink the cold cum from the
glass as a final sign of my submission. Now as I sucked I could
feel my master begin to deflate. This was another trick of
Bratby's. At our first session he had sat in front of me, naked,
his penis erect and made me watch as he willed it to detumesce
slowly until it rested between his legs on the seat of his chair.
"Bet that happens to you all the time, old boy" he sneered. Christ,
what had Patricia been saying to him, I'd though. "I can do it
whenever I want" he went on and then made me watch as his
gloriously shapely penis with its heavy hood and two clearly
delineated veins and prominent frenulum went into the ascendant
again , rising to assert itself proudly erect against his paunch.
Usually he liked to come in my mouth a full three times in an
afternoon and to drag each session out as long as possible,
letting his penis go limp and forcing me to retain it in my mouth,
just tonguing it gently until he saw fit to allow his hot blood to
fully engorge it again.
"Patricia keeping well?" Bratby asked sneeringly and I bobbed my
head. "Don't worry," he went on, "I'll keep my promise,okay?"
I made another inarticulate sound, a slight submissive nod of my
head.
"Sorry about cuckolding you, old boy," he said. "but a woman can't
go without forever."
He took a sip of his whiskey and lit another cheroot. I tongued the
by now wrinkled foreskin of his almost totally flaccid penis, then
felt it very gradually stir and begin to harden, to become more
glossy, wetter under my tongue, press against the roof of my mouth.
I didn't really think he wanted my shrewish wife on a permanent
basis and it was a sick perversion that I had to do this to keep
him away from her and, more important, to keep concealed the fact
that I was not the father of the child in her womb.. But he had
me and he knew it.
"Wasn't very nice of you, old boy," he said. "trying to kick me out
when I couldn't pay the rent. These university grants don't get
you very far, you know."
His penis had reached full turgidity now, but he had not yet given
me the signal to proceed. I was to simply retain it passively
and obediently in my mouth, until this beast which was now my
master was ready to be fully satisfied.
Not, of course, that this was the only hold he had over me. He
had caught me spying on himself and that Chinese girl of his
having sex here in the front room and he also knew that I'd
liked to watch him padding naked through the back yard to the
pump on summer mornings, a view I had from our bedroom window,
his polished bald pate glinting in the sun, his massive
shoulders and matted chest hair, and his semi-erect tool, his
early morning piss-hardon.
It was the Chinese girl he'd used to trap me. She was stunningly
beautiful. He knew I'd fancied her and I'd thought she might cure
my impotence. I was fairly sure it was Patricia's hard, shrewish
coldness that was making me fail with her, making me unable to
give her the child she craved, the baby that she though would
"make her a complete woman". Patricia had slapped my face and
gone berserk when I'd suggested she have sex with Bratby while
I slept with the Chinese girl. I told her some rubbish about
"trying to save our marriage" But I knew now she'd arranged the
whole thing in advance with Bratby. Well, I didn't KNOW in the
way you never really know with a woman, but I was pretty certain.
She'd eventually agreed, then I tried to pull out, having second
thoughts, seeing Patricia so vulnerable in the new underwear
she'd pathetically bought for the occasion. We'd tried to ring
the Chinese girl who had been away in London, to put her off, but
she had already left. Trouble was, she'd done a bunk and I ended
up with nobody and Patricia spent the week-end in the gate-lodge
with Bratby. And she'd double-crossed me by using no protection.
Tasting the increased flow of pre-cum, I sucked vigorously, avid
now to satisfy my master, and Bratby began to grunt with
satisfaction, pushing forward in the chair, his penis now
attacking the back of my throat, making me gag, short thrusts,
then a series of long, slow ones, then a final staccato tattoo
and he blew off violently in orgasm in my throat, overwhelming
me with the fullness of his cum, a choking stinging throatful
as he gripped my ears and slammed my face against his protruding
belly, then gripping my head between his thighs, his lower legs
crossed behind my head and mercilessly holding me to him until
all of his copious cum was expelled in my throat. He bellowed in
triumph as he expelled every last drop into me.
We did it once more, it took over an hour, and he finally
released me at six o'clock. Patricia was even more shrewish now
that she was six months gone and still afflicted with morning
sickness. I knew that she would quite likely have gone away
with Bratby if he had wanted her - and if he'd had any money.
We ate mostly in silence apart from a few barbed remarks
about the mess the builders had left the house in. My father
had founded Hardcastle Safes and I remembered him bringing me
to see one of these old, two key safes in a London bank, the
letters Hardcastle engraved in the massive iron door under
gilt scrollwork. My name, he'd told me, as I stared in
childlike wonder. The company was long gone and the safes
were out of date and contained mostly documents and piles
of old deeds crumbling away in thousands of banks while
massive new safes with electronic combination locks and
complicated alarm systems had replaced them. The company had
been sold after my father's death and my mother had bought
several Park Lane apartment buildings and opened a couple of
expensive flower shops in London. I was supposed to be
converting this old manor house into flats and getting tenants
for them. So far only one flat had been completed - the only
tenant was Bratby who had paid no rent since a month after he
moved into the gate-lodge last year. I wasn't looking forward
to mother's next visit.
Patricia's belly was swollen with pregnancy. My stomach
rumbled uncomfortably. It occurred again to me she was filled
with Bratby's child. Bratby had told me that even if I had
managed to have intercourse with my wife on the same night
as he first did, his semen would have overcome mine - that
in the gorilla world dominant males always had a constituent
in their semen that killed off the semen of their competitors
and that he was confident his had this quality. Again I felt
a shameful rush of shame and disgust at my subjection to
Bratby, then a wild, uncontrollable thrill of pleasure that
rocked me to the core. My face flushed. This vile cud, the
jellied acidic greyness eruped in my belly, full of Bratby's
cum and I tasted him again, sour and triumphant in my throat.
"Please don't belch at table," Patricia said severely.
Bratby insisted that I become familiar with the various parts
of his penis, pointing out that only in this way would I be
fully capable of following his instructions for my pleasuring
of him. We had naming of parts, Bratby making me touch each
part in turn with my tongue, offering my obeisance to it, the
neat slit of the urinary meatus, the full glans with its
swollen corona, and the shaftskin which he liked me to push
back to a position he favoured on his plump shaft. It was cold
outside and Bratby had lit a paraffin stove in the tiny
living-room of the gate-lodge and I knelt naked between his
knees. I had been with him for over three hours and my jaw
was sore as I choked down Bratby's third orgasm of the
afternoon. He smoked a cigar while he recovered and I knelt
before him, awaiting his pleasure. He smiled sardonically
at my limp semi-erection.
"I don't want you trying to pleasure yourself, old boy," he'd
said at the beginning. "I don't know if you're gay but I'm
certainly not. What you do in your own time is your own
business."
This particular afternoon, while I was sucking his cock,
Bratby decided to humiliate me further by recounting at
length and in exquisite detail, his conquest of my wife.
He spoke of undressing her, giving a minute description
of her underwear even down to the labels on her bra and
panties, his opinion of her figure, then told how they had
grappled at each other and fell on the bed, mating like
wild animals, before settling down to a prolonged bout
of leisurely sexual intercourse. They'd had a break for
a meal and, according to Bratby, had continued in their
sexual delirium, falling asleep at last around midnight.
Bratby recounted how he had woken to find Patricia's
hand on his sex,
"I had a rock hard erection, old boy," he observed.
"I'm afraid I mounted her without further ado and gave her
the ride of her life."
I could not understand how I could loathe Bratby so much
and yet I was in thrall to his cock .
"Funny thing, but she knew she was pregnant that weekend,"
Bratby said smugly. "She said she felt like she'd never
felt before. Lucky I got her at her fertile time."
It was awkward, totally humiliating to be kept sitting on
the floor like this, stark naked before my hairy conqueror
and Bratby's penis had started to become proudly erect
again, perhaps stimulated by thoughts of my wife and his
triumphant conquest of her. He motioned me to my knees in
front of him again, making me take his penis gently in my
mouth. I pushed back the shaftskin until he told me to
stop, then held the meaty shaft with my lips, my tongue
gently stimulating his glans corona, flicking lightly
over the meatus until Bratby indicated that I should stop
and hold his cock motionless while we could both feel it
swelling to fill my mouth.
"By the way," he said. "it gets a bit cold here in the
Winter. I want you to make arrangements for me to move
into that nice little new apartment you've fixed up in
the house."
I gagged, but he would not let me withdraw to speak.
"I'll want to keep this place for writing my thesis," he
said, "and, of course, for us!"
My world was about to fall in. My wife was just about to
give birth, Bratby was installed in the best and most
comfortable part of the house, and my sister had just
arrived, sent by my mother, to find out what the hell
was going on. Susan was a lawyer but had had a nervous
breakdown after losing a long-drawn out fraud case a
couple of years ago and now did legal and clerical work
for my mother. Bratby had slyly pointed out that it
wouldn't do if my mother found out that the child wasn't
mine wasn't, in fact, her grandchild as she now thought.
Susan could become absolutely white-faced with temper
when she didn't get her way and she was at her wits end
to know what was going on, what with the fact the house
was still only half-finished, the builders had
disappeared and Bratby wasn't paying any rent. I was
trying to get by with a mixture of lies and evasion and,
although they'd had a couple of interviews, Bratby was
becoming very difficult to find, except for me when he
summoned me to the cottage. One afternoon Susan was
actually outside, banging on the door while I knelt on
the floor with Bratby's cock in my mouth.
She rang Mother every day with a progress report and said
it was only a matter of time before she would smoke Bratby
out. The following Saturday afternoon I knelt on the
threadbare carpet, my mouth and tongue coated with pre-cum
as Bratby fought for his third orgasm of the afternoon. I
was ashamed and sick, and yet thrilled at my humiliation.
I had the nearest thing to a full erection I'd had for
years and could confidently hope to masturbate
effectively as soon as I reached home. I sucked furiously,
trying to put out of my mind for the moment what I'd seen
earlier- what I'd tasted in my mouth, what had fouled my
first delirious anticipation of the taste of Bratby's cock.
But now my stomach rumbled and I gagged as Bratby forced
his monstrously turgid penis against the back of my throat,
groaned and then bellowed with triumph as he released his
full wad of salty, gamey cum to join what felt like an
uncomfortably huge amount of it already in my stomach. But
I was shaken. After I'd undressed and knelt before him, my
mouth salivating to take my master's rigid cock and humbly
serve his pleasure, I'd seen one of Susan's expensive
Italian shoes lying beside the oil-stove. And as I bowed my
head towards him I noticed that Bratby's pubic area was
discreetly perfumed with Duchesse de Guermantes , my sisters
almost unobtainably expensive fragrance, and the shaft of
his cock was distinctly ringed with her dark red lipstick.
The triumph in Bratby's hard little eyes had been
unmistakable.
Bratby's cock was swollen and turgid, an angry purplish red,
and the slit eye of his meatus glared out from the crown of
the glans. For all the striations, irregularities and veins
on it, the skin of his cock looked very smooth. I had read
somewhere that the softest skin on the human body is not a
woman's, but the skin on the male penis. The head was shiny
and well shaped. The ridge on the underside of his shaft was
very thick.. . I grasped his rod; it felt plumply hard. My
hands felt cool against his warm skin. My mouth was opening,
my tongue extending, as I bent down to embrace his meat.
As my lips enclosed the firm smooth head of his cock, I
had an involuntary shudder of joy in my total submission.
My lips closed just past the collar of the head. Saliva
drooled down my chin. The first taste of his organ was
tingly, like tongues touching. Bratby let out a low,
guttural moan. I could feel the pre-cum which was already
oozing from his meatus on my hands as I lubed his shaft.
My hands slid down its length. He clasped his hands firmly
behind my head and raised to meet my advance, pulling me
farther in than I was prepared for. I tried to pull back,
but he was not to be denied. I pulled down his foreskin
and set to work on the underside of the head with my tongue.
From the moan that escaped Bratby's lips, I knew he liked
that. I licked under his tip with wild abandon. I tightened
my lips around his shaft and, sucking as hard as I could,
began working my mouth up and down his turgid rod.
Bratby's hips were bucking up off the chair a bit more now,
but, with my hands grasping his cock at the base, I was
able to keep him from pushing in too much, although I was
obliged to acknowledge that ultimate control would be his
and his alone. I had about six inches of him in my mouth
now His cock tasted of sweat and salt. It was so slick that,
with the quantity of saliva I was producing, my tongue
glided around and my lips slid up and down its length easily.
My saliva was coming in thick, viscous doses. The mixture
of spit and sweaty phallus gave off a pungent, musky smell.
The combination was actually intensely arousing for me as
well and I became aware that I had an almost full erection.
I had hoped to please him by getting my lips down to the
base of his cock and I had managed to take in about six
inches at one point, but no more. I sucked him hard. I
stroked him with my hands and twisted my whole head from
side to side as I plunged my mouth up and down this
magnificent phallus which had made itself my master and I
imagined myself in humble obeisance to it, and I knew that
only unquestioning obedience to its needs would be accepted
and that only in the deepest humility and submission would
it reward me with its tumultuous bounty.
I gulped air in loud breaths. Bratby may have thought I was
going to start pleasuring myself, for he sternly ordered me
to replace my hands on his thighs. My cheeks ached from
incessantly sucking this monster. I couldn't feel my lips
from the friction caused by sliding them across the veined
and striated shaft. My neck was warm and stiff from the
non-stop motion I desperately tried to suckle the rigid
monster harder. The upward curve of Bratby's phallus made
it dig into the roof of my mouth whenever I tried to take
it further down my throat. I stood up, mouth still attached
to the beast, to get a better angle. I got about seven
inches in before I gagged on it. My brazen attempts to deep
throat his turgid instrument aroused and amused Bratby.
I realized that Bratby took a perverted delight in my
attempts to swallow him whole and even more in my lack of
success. I wanted him to come in my mouth. I wanted him to
gasp with pleasure and twist around on the chair before me.
I had after all, been working with that goal in mind all
this time. The twisted perversity of the whole thing hit
me hard as if I was seeing the whole thing from outside.
I began gasping for his meat like I was French kissing a
lover. My hands were all over his cock, his balls, his
stomach, and his hips. I put my arms under his legs and
cupped his ass cheeks as he threw his groin up into my
face.
"Put your finger up my ass," he ordered, gasping, "I want
you to - uh, uh..."
I lubed my finger in the mess that was drooling down my
chin and Bratby heaved up so that his hairy asshole was
staring up at me and I tentatively prodded it with my
finger.
"Push it in, ream me," he yelled. "That's it, a couple
of inches in, you'll feel that little gland thing,
the prostate...."
Bratby let out an "OMIGOD!". He quickly clamped his hands
behind my head and began pulling me harder and harder as
he thrust higher and higher.
" Suck me, get ready to drink my juice!"
I had found his prostate, a slick little gland about the
size of a walnut and I began to stimulate it eagerly,
gradually increasing the speed at which I was palpating
it. He groaned again. He paused for a moment, then began
slamming my mouth at jack hammer pace. I felt as though
my lips would tear, but, obediently, I still worked his
phallus and his prostate diligently. Suddenly, I tasted
a stronger gush of Bratby's pre-cum. I nearly gagged from
it's strong taste, but knew we were close to the climax.
He held me close in the hot smell of his groin and made
short, quick thrusts into my mouth. He stood up, still
deep in me, my mouth still working his shaft. He knocked
me back so hard that I had to clench his ass tightly just
to keep my balance. He half rose from the chair and
stepped forward, until my head was forced back with his
plums directly above my chin. He began ramming straight
down, so hard I nearly choked. I was gagging and flailing
desperately to stop him killing me . In this position he
had total control and he used it mercilessly. Then, just
as I thought I would choke, he changed over to short,
superfast jabs, just inside my mouth. He still had a vise
grip on my head and all I could do was hope to survive
while he rode me out. . He removed one hand to grab his
cock near the base. Immediately, he jerked and spasmed;
hot, salty cum shooting into my mouth. He bellowed and
pulled his cock out of my mouth and shot the rest of his
massive load into my face. Droplets flew all over. He
grunted and gasped as he rubbed his cock, still pumping
its payload, all over my face.
"Oh God! Oh God!!" he yelled.
I coughed and choked as hot sperm leaked down, its strong
taste seemed to burn all the way down. My mouth was full,
cum dripping down my chin, I gagged on his bitter seed, but
he clamped my mouth to his balls tightly and commanded me
to drink every drop. I totally submitted again, in agony
but also in a delirium of joy at my total subservience.
Bratby grabbed me by the back of the head with both hands
and rubbed my face all over his groin. His pubic hairs
dug into my cheeks and sperm and spit coated my face To
my horror, I found that every time this man's huge prick
brushed my lips, I mouthed it compulsively. And this time
Bratby gave me no respite. As soon as he had recovered he
sat down again on his chair and motioned me to take his
now deflated penis in my mouth again. He took out one of
his Dutch cheroots from the tin on the table and I heard
the scrape of his lighter.
He had been doing this more and more lately, so that often
I had his penis in my mouth for an hour or more at a time
And these were the times, as I knelt at his feet with his
cock in my mouth, when it pleased Bratby to gloat over me,
giving further details of his sexual adventures with first
my wife and now my sister. It had seemed even more
indecent, to hear the full intimate details of Susan's
conquest by Bratby. He exulted in repeating how
"hoity-toity" she had been when she first lectured him
about his unpaid rent. A "business meeting" arranged by
Bratby at which, he intimated, he would be making firm
repayment proposals, had ended up with Susan underneath
him in bed. Bratby had left me in no doubt about how many
times he had "had her" that night, and that he had been
"giving her one" from time to time over the past two months.
Susan was now, like myself, terrified of a visit from
Mother. And there was more to come.
"Your sister," Bratby said. "Has she told you?"
I attempted to withdraw from Bratby's cock to answer him,
but he sternly ordered me to remain in position, desperately
sucking on his deflated member in the attempt to retain it
in my mouth. No comment was necessary from me and he would
tell me what he wanted to in his own good time.
"Well, she's preggers, old man," Bratby said. "Up the spout
by yours truly."
I almost had the courage to spit him out, to stand up and
call him a bastard. I was seeing the other side of
submission now, not the pleasurable part, the part that
was enjoyable even through the pain and discomfort. But
this was different. This was grindingly hard to take,
without any cushion for the blow. I was sick with the news.
"Funny thing is," Bratby said. "this will be your mother's
first grandchild. My other sprog, the one your wife is
having, is not a blood relation at all. So who gets to be
heir?"
I choked. Mother did not have a high opinion of me anyway,
but if she ever found out I wasn't the father of Patricia's
child, that I was incapable of fathering a child, it was
likely to have extremely undesirable financial consequences
for me. I had a more than slight suspicion that, if Mother
knew the true position, the bulk of the family assets would
be left in trust for Susan's child.
"She wants me to marry her," Bratby said.
"Please, no," I begged.
This time I did pull away. Bratby reached out and cuffed me
hard on the side of the head so that I fell back on the worn
carpet and before I could get up Bratby had bounded from the
chair and straddled my body, jockeying up so that he was
sitting firmly astride my chest.
"Never do that again without permission," he hissed, his
angry little eyes glaring down at me. He slapped me again.
"I'm sorry," I said.
"You were out of order," Bratby said sternly.
He took the base of his cock between thumb and forefinger
and gently stimulated it.
"I'm not saying I want to marry her," he said. "But I'm not
saying I won't."
"You know...my mother is coming tomorrow," I said.
"So?" Bratby sneered.
"That's when the b...balloon goes up," I stammered.
I was falling into Bratby's retro army slang. Not that he'd
ever been in the army. Even if we'd still had National
Service, Bratby would have been too fly for them and
would have faked some disability.
"Get on the blower, put her off for a day or two," Bratby
said. "Say you've fallen behind with the bumph or that the
builder-johnny has done a bunk."
"You don't know what she's like," I said miserably.
His penis was now semi-erect and he leaned forward supporting
himself on his hands so that his cock was brushing my lips.
I opened to accept it and Bratby thrust himself deep.
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," he said,
grunting with satisfaction as I began to suck him obediently.
The following day Patricia went into labour at eight o'clock
in the morning and I had to drive her to the hospital twenty
miles away. There were complications at the birth and I was
half hoping she'd lose the child, although in some ways I
welcomed it, but it all depended on mother not finding out
who the father was. I rang Susan and told her I'd have to book
into a hotel for a couple of days and Susan said mother
hadn't yet arrived. After a long labour a baby boy arrived on
the scene and, thank God, it didn't look too much like Bratby
at this stage, although it did have rather mean little eyes.
When I got back to the house two days later Susan was on the
top of the steps at the front door. I had knocked at the
gate-lodge on the way up the driveway, but there hadn't been
any answer. I knew Bratby would probably have been annoyed
at my non-appearance yesterday evening, which was one of
our set days. Susan, although only two months pregnant,
looked wretched with morning sickness and it was obvious
she had been crying. She hugged me.
"I don't know what to say...about the child." She said.
I was dumbfounded.
"What do you mean?"
"Patricia told me," she said. "It's not yours."
"So that's that, then." I said bitterly.
"Mother has wiped the floor with me," she said, "and you
are in big, big trouble."
Mother, although Father had been knighted for political
subscriptions in the twilight of his life, bore her title
as though she were the widow of a peer of the realm, or a
baroness in her own right. I could just see her sailing in
here, her ample well-corseted fifty-three year old figure,
her imperious snobby voice calling for attention, very much
the dominant woman in this household. Nothing was too small
or removed from being her business not to be interfered in
by her.
"So you're carrying the heir to the throne," I said
bitterly to Susan. "The Hardcastle millions."
"That's all you know," Susan said bitterly "Mother is
looking for you. She knows everything. She says she'll
never trust either of us again."
"Susan, I'm sorry," I said.
"What HAS been going on. I don't understand it," Susan looked
sick and bewildered. "By the way, mother said she'd see you
in the study at twelve - come down to the kitchen first and
I'll make you breakfast."
"The study is a mess," I said. "I can't let her see it."
"Don't go in there," Susan shrieked as I pushed open the
door of the large drawing-room which lay to the right of the
massive hall and looked out across the parkland through two
bay windows. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I heard her call out
behind me, but I knew it wasn't to me.
Mother was on her hands and knees on the settee, her stockings
shoes and panties lying on the carpet, her elegant corset and
her tent-like dress of mauve and pink draped across the
sofa-table in the middle of the room. Kneeling behind her,
half-straddling her thighs, his stubby hands supporting her
massive breasts a cheerful Bratby was tupping her
enthusiastically as though it was all in a day's work for
him. Mother was bucking back into him, trying to impale
herself even further on his massive cock, but she turned
and looked straight at me, her face distorted with desire
or anger.
"Get out, you fool," she snapped.
I sat at the kitchen table, trembling with shock. It did not
strike me for ages that there was anything that was Mother's
fault or that should embarrass her in any way but that I had
made an unpardonable intrusion in her privacy. That was the
effect Mother had on me. At least this would divert mother's
attention from me, to some extent and I knew that since
Father's death she had had a number of discreet affairs, but
nothing prepares a man for walking into a room and seeing
his mother in the sweaty embrace of a lover, particularly one
taking her from the rear.
"I can't believe it," I said. "MOTHER! With someone like
Bratby."
"She fell for the fucker the moment she saw him," Susan
said bitterly.
"This is incredible," I said.
"That's not the worst," Susan said, turning from the Aga
cooker with the kettle in her hand, splashing water into
the teapot to heat it, then reaching up for the tea-caddy.
"She's.....Mother, I mean...she's on fertility drugs."
"Oh my God," I said. "but why?"
"She wants an heir," Susan said. "What she calls "a proper
heir" She was going to get herself fertilised "in vitro"
but now it seems Bratby's been given the job."
As I knelt before Bratby and prepared to take his cock in
my mouth I felt the familiar flush of shame and the
perverted delight I now admitted to in anticipation of
what I was to do. From his crotch came the unmistakeable
scent of Oriane des Laumes, my mother's scent, the one
she said was named after the Duchesse de Guermantes in
Proust's "A La Recherche Des Temps Perdus", the scent
she said only eight women in London had access to.
It appalled me that she had taken Bratby in her scented
vagina and, seeing my expression of shock he said, "She
takes me in her mouth too. She isn't any better than you,
though."
Even soft, his cock was about 5 inches long. Drawing it
towards me, I enveloped it. I was able to take it into my
mouth up to the root, now that he was flaccid. It tasted
different and I knew I was tasting not only Bratby, I
was also tasting my mother's shame. I extended my arms
in front of me, under his legs and along his sides, and
rested my chin above his balls as I turned my attention
to making Bratby hard. The hairs on his scrotum brushed
my neck, and his pubes tickled my nose. All I smelled
was sweaty, musky crotch overlaid with the delicate
perfume of my childhood memories, my mother's scent. As
humiliating as I still felt to be made to obediently
suck his cock, - not simply to take it in my mouth and
pay obeisance to it but to do so in minute detail the
way he ordered me to, it felt even more degrading to
be made to get him up from a state of complete.flaccidity.
I knew he had not washed since he last had intercourse
with my mother and that this was entirely deliberate. It
was a totally different experience to have his soft,
fleshy penis in my mouth. Last week he had offered me
my freedom if I could bring him off in twenty minutes.
He had not, on that occasion, tried to deflate his penis
to obstruct me. Yet I had failed to bring him off in time.
"It was so sexy undressing her," Bratby said. "and to
know she was LADY Hardcastle.
That corset - it must have cost a thousand quid. Hand
made satin basque thing.
Made it so much nicer, so special when I finally had
her naked."
As I swirled my tongue around his cock it moved around
lazily as if it had a life of its own.
"She's a hell of a woman for her age," Bratby said.
The skin was elastic and smooth, very conducive to being
lubricated by saliva.
"Hell, there's something about an older woman, isn't
there? But even I didn't think I was going to put her
in the pudding club. Fertility drugs, eh?" Bratby
chuckled appreciatively.
Aside from the shame of what I was doing, it was very
sensually stimulating to feel this sleeping beast in
my mouth.
"I like a woman who wears stockings too," Bratby said.
Yesterday mother had announced at dinner that she was
pregnant by Bratby. She was radiant as both Susan and
Patricia looked furiously on . I was taking care of
the baby now, the one Bratby had sired on Patricia,
getting up at night to look after it when it cried.
Mother had told me that I would have to look after
Susan's baby also when it arrived. My sister was going
to resume independent work as a lawyer. Both Susan,
now six months pregnant, and Patricia were wearing
necklaces selected by Mother and had probably been
advised what dresses to wear with them. Mother was
very much the dominant female.
"Percy and I shall be getting married quietly in St
Pauls in October," Mother had announced sweetly.
Percy? So that was his name. I had never been able to
make out his illiterate scrawl on the letting
agreement. Bratby grinned sheepishly from the end
of the table
"I didn't know it was possible to get married QUIETLY
in St Paul's CATHEDRAL" I said rather pointedly.
"Shows all you know, dear" Mother said, smiling at
Bratby. "We shall be married at eight o'clock in the
morning. By the Dean himself."
I leaned a bit to one side and grabbed Bratby's cock
at the base. Even soft, it felt to be as thick around
as mine was when hard. I began trying to suck on it
s opposed to sloshing it in my mouth. It was difficult
to suck the soft dick, it's elasticity made it hard
to form an air- tight seal on it. But eventually it
began firming up. Having his dick grow erect in my
mouth was an odd feeling. It was slowly thickening
and gently forcing me to bend my head back from
his crotch or else choke on it. Soon it reached the
plump turgidity that I remembered.. I ran my tongue,
well salivated, along the bottom of his shaft, from
bottom to top, pausing for special attention under
the tip. I grabbed the tops of his thighs as I began
taking him in slow, deep, deliberate stokes onto my
mouth, licking him lavishly as I bobbed up and down...
I began sucking a bit more intensely, a little deeper.
Not too much more, though. I was trying to pace myself.
I still didn't get much response out of him.. I
stroked him with my hand while I sucked for all my
worth. I continued the hand job as I disengaged my
mouth from him to suckle his balls and lick the
crease of his leg and groin. In my frenzy, I was
turning myself on. I returned to the head and was
giving it loud, wet kisses. I realized I was moaning
with desire. This seemed to elicit a stronger response
from him. He was now moving his hips rhythmically
with me, coming up to meet my face as I devoured him.
I heard him gasp. I began sliding my mouth up and
down his cock sideways, spit dripping all along it's
length. I moved down his shaft in this way until I
was sucking on the ridge on the underside of it,
just above his balls, as I jerked him off by hand.
I was so intent on my work, I found my hips moving
in and out as well. I also noticed that I had a
hardon. . For the first time in years I had a
full, hard, throbbing erection. I instinctively
reached for it. Bratby noticed what I was doing.
"I don't allow that, old boy," he said.
He forced my mouth open with his hands withdrawing
his cock peremptorily and leaving me floundering
on my knees. He took up a strap from the table and
ordered me to put my wrists behind me. He wrapped
the strap firmly around my wrists behind me,
pushing me forward prone on my face, then sitting
firmly astride me while he whistled tunelessly,
adjusting the buckle to his satisfaction. When
he had finished he got up off me and returned to
the chair, ordering me to take his penis in my
mouth again.
I tried to deep throat him, but could only get about
half way. He did, however, let out a deep sigh of
pleasure. I started going down on him in deep, tight-
lipped strokes. He liked it. I was getting better
at it and he was unable to resist me. Last week,
before the twenty minutes was up, he was still hard,
I was urging him towards climax.
He was starting to gasp, to jerk quickly, then more
slowly, then those piston-like strokes. He was almost
on the point of climax. I stopped sucking, held his
hugely engorged cock as gently as I could while the
minutes ticked by. Bratby looked at his watch. He
knew. I did not want my freedom. My submission to
him was complete.
"I'll be here for at least the next six months,"
Bratby said. "Maybe for ever. Finishing off that
thesis on the Mountain Gorillas. Fair bit of bumph
still to be done. Probably interest you, old boy,
about the way the dominant males treat the ordinary
Joe Soaps."
As usual I could not answer him. Who was I to argue?
"Probably just pop up to London at the weekends to
keep your mother happy and wind the clock."
When I gasped, he pulled out for a second. He was
breathing heavily.
"Catch your breath, I'm gettin' ready to unload."
He made me take him again and resumed pumping.
Once again his dick sought satisfaction deep in
my throat. The throbbing instrument of his pleasure
was pushed deeper, a probe searching for just the
right spot to plant its essence. He fucked deeper.
My lips, my throat, more educated now to his
monstrous size, surrounded the base of his rod
and felt the fine, strong muscles of his belly.
My lips were painfully stretched. . His sweaty plums
moved up and down on my chin. I reached around and
felt his hard ass. It contracted every time he
shoved into me. His engorged penis expanded in
my throat, I felt the head of it flare wildly,
He was beginning to let go. The base of his cock
then expanded and his first big wad sped downward.
I had worked hard for his thick, jellied load and
now he was rewarding me lavishly. The massive
dickhead had found it's mark and, with a final
massive shudder, it began to lather the spot with
its rich booty. I felt something hot and creamy
coat my insides. It imagined it shooting straight
to my belly.
I knew that Bratby had possessed me even more
completely than he had possessed first my wife,
then my sister and finally, my mother. He held
me by the back of the head and I was totally
helpless in his grasp, my face buried in his
sweaty crotch, my wrists bound behind me. I
knew I was now totally his and acknowledged my
sovereign master as I savoured the last copious
pumping of his cum down my throat
The End.
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