HYPNOTIZING MY MOM TO BE MY SEX SLAVE, BOOK FIVE
THE STORY SO FAR
(BOOK ONE): Matty’s Mom is gorgeous. Her chunky body looks sensational in her skin-tight pants suit and flounce-y blouse, but for some reason Matty’s alluring Mom is in love with uptight, prudish, creepy Howard Montgomery. Howard’s always finding fault with her clothes and her figure and even her cordon bleu cooking. He makes self-help video blogs for Matty’s Mom to watch, lecturing her on modesty, purity and weight-loss. Matty’s had enough. He’s always been close to his Mom ever since his father walked out on her when he was a baby. He remasters one of Howard’s videos so that when his Mom watches it she goes into a hypnotic trance. Matty implants trigger words in her subconscious mind, ‘easy’ to hypnotize her, and ‘hard’, to snap her out of the trance, so he can use his control over her mind to stop his Mom from loving Howard, except… his Mom’s irresistible… when he tries ‘easy’ in the kitchen, helping her do the washing up, she ends up giving him hand relief. Even worse, when she’s hypnotized, his mother thinks that Matty’s her creepy boyfriend Howard. She’s dying for ‘Howard’ to fuck her. Matty almost goes all the way with her. When he eventually snaps her out of her trance with the second trigger word, ‘hard’, his Mom forgets everything. She’s oblivious to what’s just happened, but Matty’s scared. Howard’s self-help blogs recommend a healthy fitness regime. Mom’s going out for a three-mile jog in the morning, and she’s insisting Matty goes with her.
(BOOK TWO) The sweatier Mom gets, the faster she jogs, the more irresistible she becomes in her skin-tight bicycling shorts and stretchy halter. Running through the woods, Matty can’t help uttering the trigger word, ‘easy’. His mother turns into his sex slave and Matty takes advantage of her again. They nearly get caught. A gang of rude girls goes by, his bratty little sister’s slutty friends. Matty and his Mom manage to cover up, but now Matty’s worried his nosy little sister’s going to find out how he’s been using his mother’s body. When Sandra comes in his bedroom and shows Matty the scorpion tattoo she’s had done in her groin, it’s soon clear what Sandra wants. Matty resists, but his little sis is perfectly capable of blackmailing her big brother to get it.
BOOK THREE: Howard takes Matty, Sandra and Mom to the beach. Howard is Mom’s fiancé now. They’re engaged to be married, but that doesn’t stop Howard flirting with Mom’s best friend Gracie, admiring her slim ‘ideal’ body. Matty’s chunky Mom is distraught. She storms off into the sand dunes. Matty follows her, increasingly disturbed, but when he hypnotizes his mother, in an attempt to comfort her, she ends up giving him a blowjob. Sandra catches them. Now his little sis is in a position to blackmail Matty.
BOOK FOUR: Sandra’s taken a video of Mom giving Matty a blowjob in the sand dunes. She blackmails Matty into having sex with her, and they fall in love. Meanwhile Matty’s plan to break his Mom’s infatuation with Howard goes disastrously wrong. He commands his hypnotized mother to go and whoreish-ly seduce Howard. The shock will drive Howard away. But instead Mom’s creepy fiancé ends up putting Mom over his knee and smacking her butt. Even worse, Matty sees how much his mother enjoys it. He now has video evidence of Howard’s debauchery but he doesn’t use it. He needs a crack at his mother’s bootylicious ass himself.
HYPNOTIZING MOM TO BE MY SEX SLAVE, BOOK FIVE
I feel bad deleting the footage I’ve taken of my Mom seducing her fiancé. I’m ashamed of my reasons for deleting the CCTV footage of Mom’s irresistible sexiness and Howard’s vicious response.
My mother and I have always been close, ever since my father walked out on her when I was a baby. Never knowing my father has made me extra protective of my mother. I can’t bear the thought of my gorgeous Mom ending up with a creep like ‘Doctor’ Howard Montgomery.
My plan worked. It worked too well.
I put my mother in a deep hypnotic trance and instructed her to go to Howard’s office and hit on him. I can control my mother with my thoughts when she’s hypnotized. I can think instructions into her subconscious mind even at a distance.
Alone with Howard in his office—I was watching by CCTV hook-up to my phone— Mom obeyed my every mental command. She unbuttoned her blouse. She unzipped her pants. She threw herself at her prudish, uptight fiancé in a way that was sure to shock and disgust him and break off their engagement.
I had the video evidence that would put an end to Mom and Howard’s ‘ideal’ love affair and ruin ‘Doctor’ Howard Montgomery’s career into the bargain. We’d never have to see his self-righteous face round our house ever again, and I’ve deleted it. I saw a side of my mother that thrills me to my core and I need to see it again, in real life, just her and me.
The image of Howard’s hand slamming into my mother’s bootylicious butt was too disturbing to want to stop. The red marks his palm left in her sumptuous ass-cheeks were too exciting. My Mom’s ecstatic cries as Howard stood her up against the wall and smacked her with his ruler aroused me too much.
All I needed to do was upload the footage on my phone to the porn sites I’d chosen and my plan would have been a one hundred percent success, and instead… I’ve scrubbed the footage from my phone. I’m keeping my mother’s tortured butt and ecstatic love-cries to myself, so I can take advantage of her need to be flogged, so I can have a go at flogging her sumptuous ass myself. It’ll be my hand that’s raising the red sting marks on her luscious ass-cheeks. It’s going to be my blows that are jellying her inflamed bottom. I’ve found my little sister’s riding crop she used to use when she was into ponies, so I can whip my mother more efficiently. It’s going to be me who stands my Mom against a wall and thrashes her bootylicious butt till she’s screaming for mercy more ecstatically than she ever screamed for Howard!
She’s home. My mother’s finally back from Howard’s office. I’ve used the trigger word ‘hard’ to snap her out of her trance and it’s worked. She remembers nothing. My Mom’s oblivious to what occurred between her and Howard alone in his office. She’s just dumbly wondering why her bottom hurts so much.
Her bottom hurts so much because Howard smacked her hard. Her fiancé put her over his knee and smacked her viciously! Howard stood her against the wall and flogged her big curvaceous butt with a ruler till her ass was red and raw! Howard beat her so thoroughly to his satisfaction he climaxed all over her bottom… and I climaxed too, watching in my room… as if I was Howard… as if I was in Howard’s body… in his arms, in his hands, in his fist, as he slammed down blow after blow onto my mother’s gorgeous bottom.
Howard’s not the moral, prudish, squeaky-clean man he pretends to be! He’s a raging sadist! He enjoys inflicting pain! Howard took real pleasure in hurting the big, innocent, dopey woman who loves him. There’s a raving monster trapped inside his weedy, sanitized, puritanical body…
… And I haven’t uploaded the video footage to a website or anywhere where it can do Howard harm or even break him and Mom up…
… My mother enjoyed being smacked…
… She convulsed ecstatically…
… Her beautiful chunky body quaked in orgasm after orgasm as Howard smacked her bottom…
… She climaxed so ecstatically I need to smack her too…
… My mother’s pleasure was so intense I won’t rest till I’ve given her that same pleasure myself, felt my own palm— so much broader and stronger than Howard’s palm— slam into her silky skin, leave my own red marks in her curvaceous softness hotter than Howard could ever manage… I saw a side of my mother that’s so irresistible I need to stand her up against a wall and flog her myself.
The instrument of torture’s already trembling in my hand. My fingertips tingle just tapping my little sister’s riding crop gently, over and over and over, in the palm of my hand. It’s a beautiful riding crop. It’s got a plaited rawhide shaft with a smooth leather tongue to flail my mother’s hot ass red and raw.
My plan worked too well. I not only learned something about my mother that I never knew before, I learned something about myself.
The house is quiet.
Mom’s having a rest in her room, nursing her smacked bottom.
I hide the riding crop in the bottom of my wardrobe. Now that she’s eighteen, my little sister isn’t into ponies. Sandra won’t miss her cute little whip.
I check my phone to make sure I’ve deleted every trace of the video footage. Sandra’s into everything. My little sister’s forever lounging into my bedroom uninvited. She’s perfectly capable of searching through my phone.
I hide the riding crop in a safe place in the bottom of my wardrobe.
I’m just closing the wardrobe door when I hear a noise at my bedroom door.
A soft footstep in my room.
A breathy voice:
“How’d it go, Matty?”
Sandra!
My little sister’s crossing the room towards me, an inquisitive smile on her face.
Her eyes are bright and eager.
“Did Mom seduce Howard? Did you get the footage?”
She puts her arms around my neck and we kiss. My little sister’s cupid’s-bow lips plaster my broad lips with loving moisture. Our tongues twine voluptuously, passing slippery pleasure from mouth to mouth.
There’s a sweetness in my sister’s kiss I never would have expected from a waspish little chick like Sandra.
I cup her pert ass in both hands. She rubs her smoking hot pussy against my stiffening cock.
When she pulls away her eyes are sparkling:
“Mom blew his mind, ey? We’ll never see Howard again!”
Her embrace is so warm and eager I feel terrible lying to her.
“… Erm… well… no… not actually…” I take a deep breath and lie straight out. “… Howard refused Mom’s advances!”
Sandra’s eyes go wide with disbelief:
“What?”
“Howard didn’t respond. He refused to take the bait!”
“No! Impossible!”
I push on.
“… I’m afraid so. Howard was immovable. Totally cold and stand-offish. Howard refused to be seduced. You know how he is. ‘A Pure Mind In A Pure Body’. ‘The Genetic Advantages Of Self Restraint’. All he did was push her away and lecture her, preach at her for being in ‘an over-excited mood, unbecoming for the ideal wife-to-be…!’”
Sandra’s amazed:
“Howard? No. I don’t believe it. Mom’s so gorgeous!”
I remember how excited Howard got, pumping his cock one-handed as he laid into our Mom with the ruler, spunking on her red raw bottom when she climaxed.
I never used to mind lying to my little sister before, to get her out of my hair, now I feel like a criminal.
“No. I’m afraid Howard refused to be seduced, but at least…”
Of course! Why didn’t I think of it before? I push on with my lie:
“… At least we’ll never see his face again. Mom unbuttoned her blouse. She unzipped her pants. Howard was shocked. He was appalled. He’ll certainly break off their engagement. He’ll never want to see Mom again. Him and Mom will be finished so… it worked out okay in the long run…”
I’m right. It’s true. It’s the answer!
Once Howard gets over the shock of being aroused and giving way to his sadistic urges he’ll retreat back into his puritanical shell. He’ll put up even stronger defenses than before against ‘self indulgence’ and ‘unmanly desires’. Howard will be outraged. He’s sure to break off their engagement. Mom will be free of his preaching and bullying.
Sandra doesn’t look too certain:
“… Yeah… I guess so… I guess you’re right, big bro…”
She never used to call me ‘big bro’ in this affectionate way before.
She holds on tighter to my neck and rubs her small, bud-like breasts against my chest through her skimpy tank-top. Her butt grows warmer and warmer, cupped in my hands. A flutter in her hot little pussy turns to throbbing heat. She grinds her succulent cunt against my stiff cock.
She murmurs:
“… You n me gonna make out, big bro? Celebrate getting rid of Howard…?”
I can’t help smiling:
“… I guess we are…”
She slips out of her shorts. She tugs her tank-top off over her head. She unzips my jeans and pulls me down on top of her on the bed still kicking my pants off round my ankles. My throbbing spear-head finds her sopping entrance without even looking.
“… Yes… yes…”
Her back arches. My little sister’s hot gash jerks and bucks. I stab my big cock into her again and again. Sandra goes into meltdown. She spasms instantly on my rock-hard prong.
“… Yes… ye-eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeees…!”
Sandra fucks so urgently and tenderly I almost forget she’s blackmailing me.
My little sister cums so passionately I lose track of the fact that she’s forcing me to fuck her.
She’ll upload of the footage of Mom sucking my cock in the sand dunes if I don’t satisfy her crazy desire, this crazy desire that feels so warm and tender rutting on my deep, hot stabs… almost as if she’s in love with me… almost as if… I’m in love with her… the throbbing pile-drivers I’m sinking into her molten gash throbbing with love and affection for my waspish little sis…
“… Oh… oh… oh fu-uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck…!”
The way Sandra abandons herself to her orgasm, her sweet full-body abandon, lifts me up, sets my heart pounding and I’m pumping surge after surge of hot, loving semen into my little sister’s hot cunt.
Before I hypnotized my mother and she set out for Howard’s office in a deep trance state, Mom had been dicing liver in the kitchen, ready for the liver paté she’s making for dinner.
Back from Howard’s office, showered and dressed in comfortable clothes, oblivious of what occurred between her and her fiancé in his college room, her bottom still stinging, Mom’s taken her nap and she’s back in the kitchen preparing liver paté.
She thinks Howard’s still coming to dinner tonight. Howard’s on a permanent open invitation to dinner at our house. She’s forgotten what happened in her fiancé’s office. She’s oblivious to her attempted seduction and Howard’s vicious response.
She hums a tune—my mother’s got a nice, lilting voice— as she tastes the beef bourguignon juice, adds a dash more coriander.
She still thinks Howard will show up. My mother’s unaware that she’s shocked Howard to his puritanical core and she’ll never see her uptight, creepy fiancé again.
I feel bad not telling her.
You shouldn’t keep your own mother in the dark about such important issues as love and marriage, but I still can’t help a deep sense of relief that her relationship with Doctor Howard Montgomery is finally over.
She wipes a strand of blonde hair from her forehead and pouts:
“Oh, I do hope Howard hasn’t gone off paté. He said my last attempt was too spicy!”
She’s in the usual flustered, over-excited state she gets into before Howard arrives, oblivious that tonight Howard isn’t coming.
My face burns:
“Your paté’s delicious, Mom. I’m sure Howard will love it!”
I feel terrible keeping up the pretense, but it’ll all be for the best once my Mom gets used to the fact that she and Howard are over.
She’s extra hot and bothered tonight. She wails:
“He said the last time I served him paté it gave him heartburn!”
Sandra glances at me. My little sister’s eyes shine knowingly:
“I’m sure his heartburn’ll be fine tonight, Mom.”
My little sister’s as relieved as I am that we’ll never see Howard’s uptight face sitting at our dinner table ever again.
Mom won’t stop fussing:
“… Well, Sandra… I’m glad you’ve at least chosen something a little more becoming to wear tonight when Howard’s here…!”
I’m amazed myself.
Instead of her usual short shorts or slashed jeans, Sandra’s put on a green sundress with big yellow sunflowers on it.
She looks great.
The sundress is cut square across the top with thin string spaghetti straps.
The big, bright, yellow flowers conceal her small, bud-like breasts, leaving her naked shoulders’ silky perfection revealed.
The hemline stops halfway up my little sister’s slim, toned thighs, not showing off even an inch of butt as usual, but still letting you know how taut and curvaceous her petite teenage bottom is.
She looks beautiful.
Mom gabbles:
“I’m glad you’ve finally listened to my warnings about flashing too much skin, Sandra!”
Mom’s got the wrong end of the stick as usual. My mother doesn’t understand. The sundress isn’t a concession to Howard’s moralizing. Sandra’s put the sundress on for me. My little sister doesn’t need to flash skin any more. She knows I know every pore of her smoking hot body, every beat of her urgent teenage heart. She doesn’t need to show off her body for her big brother to know how lovely she is, how hot and generous she is when she fucks, how lavishly and lovingly she climaxes.
If she deletes the sand dunes footage from her phone and stops blackmailing me and comes on to me with simple innocent affection, it’s going to be hard to knock her back.
Bri-iiiiiiing
I nearly jump out of my skin.
“The doorbell!”
Bri-iiiiiiing… bri-iiiiiiiiiiiiiing…
It can’t be.
It’s impossible!
It’s Howard’s normal time to arrive for dinner and the doorbell’s ringing!
Mom preens:
“Of course it’s the doorbell, darling. I’ve invited Howard to dinner.”
She doesn’t realize…
Bri-iiiiiiing… bri-iiiiiiiiiiiiiing… bri-iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing…
It’s certainly Howard’s imperious way of ringing at the door.
Mom flushes:
“Hurry and answer the door, Matty. It’s Howard. Go and let Howard in. I’ll just go and check the beef!”
Mom heads for the kitchen and the million pots and pans she’s got simmering. I drag myself to the front door, the welcome-to-dinner brigade.
I open the door.
Howard’s already smirking. He’s smirking the way he always smirks!
“Good evening, Matty. I presume, from the delicious odors wafting to our nostrils, that your mother is home, and busy in the kitchen!”
… It’s as if nothing’s happened… as if this afternoon didn’t occur…!
… It can’t have all been washed from his mind, Mom unzipping her pants, her bottom jellying as he rained down smack after smack… he wasn’t hypnotized… he isn’t hypnotized now… he surely remembers every stinging smack in obscene detail…
… And he’s smiling his holier-than-thou smile…!…
… He’s smirking his same pompous, self-satisfied greeting…!
Not a thing has changed from this afternoon.
His tall, lean body. His knobbly knees and elbows. The sleeves of his check shirt rolled up so you can see how knobbly his scrawny elbows and thin biceps are. His tan chinos extra tight so everyone can see how muscular his kneecaps are. His pasty, washed-out face. His thin lips. The pair of wire-rimmed spectacles balanced on the bridge of his beaky nose. Still the love of my mother’s life! Still the Apollo she’s intending to marry! Still the ‘noble soul’ who’s got her totally under his thumb!
I mutter:
“… Come in…” And under my breath. “… creep…”
Ten minutes later Howard and I are sitting opposite each other at the dinner table and Mom’s running in and out of the kitchen, hot and flustered, dishing up the hors d’oeuvres. Chicken wings and fortune cookies she baked herself.
“… Mm-mmmmmmmmm…!”
The chicken wings are delicious, especially dipped in Mom’s chili sauce.
Howard turns up his nose as usual, never satisfied with anything Mom serves him:
“Are you sure these wings are cooked right through, my dear? One daren’t risk uncooked meat!”
Mom’s devastated:
“… Oh… oh… if you’d like me to pop them back in the oven for another ten minutes, dearest…”
Howard puffs his chest out:
“No, no. Don’t trouble yourself, Teresa. We’ll all risk ecoli together, ey?”
Mom finally gets everyone dished up and sits down.
“Ouch!”
Howard stiffens. His body jerks. He nearly drops his spoon. Howard’s so pompous he never blushes, but suddenly his face is deep red.
He glances hurriedly at me and Sandra, then back to Mom:
“What’s that dearest? What’s the matter?”
Sandra glances at me, a questioning look on her face.
Mom’s blushing too. She flusters:
“… Oh… oh.. me…?… what’s the matter…?” I saw her bottom turn crimson with my own eyes, the red marks Howard’s ruler left in her sumptuous ass-cheeks. “… Oh… oh… nothing… nothing’s the matter, dearest… I… I just spent a bit too much time at the tanning salon this afternoon… I… I fell as asleep on the sunbed, caught a little too much… erm… sun…”
Howard frowns. His squeaky-clean lips purse. His holier-than-thou eyes are suddenly paranoid.
“… Oh… I see.. the tanning salon…” He fixes my mother’s eyes in a hard stare, enforcing his grip on her, reminding her of the power he wields. “… Was that… before… or after… you came to my office…?”
Mom looks bewildered:
“… Your office…?… I… I never went to your office, did I…?”
He snaps:
“Of course you went to my office!” He holds her eye, demanding she doesn’t confess. “You must remember. Three o’clock. You dropped in at my office.”
Mom’s totally flustered.
“… If you say so, Howard…”
He speaks slowly and clearly, enunciating each word separately and forcefully as if he’s speaking to forgetful child:
“You came to my office and we discussed the Genetic Advantages Of Self Restraint for an hour and then you left!”
“… Well yes… I suppose…” Mom’s so flustered she’s stopped making sense… “… Yes… you’re right… how could I have forgotten…?… we sat in your office and talked about… about higher things… for an hour… yes… and then I came home…”
She’s back under Howard’s control. My mother is back totally under her fiancé’s thumb again.
I should have uploaded the video footage, but now I’ve gone and deleted it.
My mother’s even more under Howard’s thumb now than she was before. My mother’s under Howard’s sexual sway too now as well as his moralizing sway. Now Howard knows that my Mom enjoys being smacked. Now Doctor Howard Montgomery knows that my mother is helplessly willingly and able when it comes to being slapped. He doesn’t realize she was hypnotized when she tried to seduce him. Her being hypnotized doesn’t matter any more. She wasn’t hypnotized when she cried out for him to smack her harder. I didn’t command her to cry out. I didn’t think that suggestion into her subconscious mind. It rose up all by itself. It wasn’t my mother’s trance state that made her beg for a good flogging. Howard’s discovered my mother’s weakness and it fits perfectly with the sadistic savagery boiling under his prim and proper exterior. That’s why he’s preening so intolerably. That’s why Howard’s smirking so unbearably. The next time he gets her alone in his office he’ll do it again, and my mother will be powerless to resist.
The meal passes in an agony of uncertainty.
Mom squirming on her chair, her bottom still hurting, assuming it was the tanning salon.
Sandra looking mystified, wondering what just happened, why the vibes are so excruciating.
I’m plunged in a hotbed of guilt and remorse myself. Howard crowing, more and more sure of himself, reasserting his dominance over Mom, showing off the strictness of his moral principles.
He leers at Sandra:
“I’m glad to see you’ve changed your style of attire, young lady.” He beams at the sunflower sundress. “When your mother’s fiancé is dining with you!”
He thinks it’s his own good influence, his constant preaching and lecturing, that have made Sandra give up her skimpy short shorts and revealing tank-tops.
“… Yes, darling…!” cries Mom. “… You look so much nicer in something tasteful…!”
They’re right. Sandra looks gorgeous.
For a second I think she’s going to explode, but my little sister bites her lip. Instead, she just blushes and glances at me.
“… Yeah, Mom… whatever…”
It hits me again. Sandra’s put on the sunflower sundress for me!
I feel bad not telling her what happened in Howard’s office. I feel terrible deleting the footage and lying about this afternoon’s events… but I’ll make it up to her… I deleted the footage because I was yearning for a chance to smack my mother’s bootylicious butt myself… I lied to Sandra because I needed to feel Mom’s voluptuous ass-cheeks quaking under the full force of her son’s hot hand… I’ve already stolen her riding crop… I’ve already found something more stinging and more vicious than a teacher’s ruler and to flog Mom with, to flog her better than Howard could ever flog her, to tan her butt till my mother’s screaming for mercy…
… Except…
… It’s impossible…
… Unthinkable…
… My conscience finally kicks in…
… I’m not Howard…
… I’m not a hypocritical…
… Smack my own mother…?
… Flog her till she screams for mercy…?
… No…
… No way… it’s impossible… I’m not like that… I’m her son… I’m my little sister’s brother…
I shut my eyes. I make a vow. In the deepest depths of my true mind I make a silent promise to myself.
I’ll finish with my hypnosis trip. I’ll never hypnotize my mother again. I’ll make myself forget the trigger words. I’ll never use the trance state to control my mother’s subconscious mind ever again. It’s over. I’ll change. I’ll turn my life around. I’ll knock this incestuous obsession on the head before it takes possession of me. I’ll never touch my mother again, not that way, ever again.
When I open my eyes, Howard’s on his feet.
He’s dabbing at his mouth with his napkin removing the last traces of ‘spiciness’ and ‘greasiness’.
Doctor Montgomery’s getting ready to go.
He makes his usual pompous farewell speech:
“… Thank you, Teresa… the beef bourguignon was quite passable, if the paté was a little too gritty… but I’d best be making tracks… one needs one’s eight hours a night to keep in peak condition…”
He leers:
“… Why don’t you pop round my office tomorrow? Three o’clock will do. We can discuss ‘A Healthy Mind In A Healthy Body’.
In bed with my little sister—Howard’s departed, Mom’s snoring in her room—Sandra nibbles my ear.
“What was all that about? The tanning salon? Mom’s bottom hurting? Not remembering she went to Howard’s office, then suddenly remembering when he ordered her to remember?”
I murmur:
“I dunno, Sandra. It’s all beyond me.”
I like my sister a lot. I feel bad lying to her. The more I like my little sister the more terrible I feel deceiving her.
It’s particularly nice cuddling her slim body in bed and feeling her heart beating against my chest between rapturous bouts of fucking.
I cup her petite ass in one hand and my little sister throws her leg over my hip like she owns my body already.
She does, sort of. When our affair began I promised myself I’d only fuck her once, because she was blackmailing me. Sandra forced me to take her. But now, when I know her better, I want to do it again and again with her. I’m permanently erect. Even in the sweet, smoochy breaks between bouts of hot rutting my big cock’s standing up thick and raw and rock-hard, ready for us to start screwing again.
I used to think Sandra was such a bratty little air-head a real man would lose interest in her once he’d possessed her body. But the exact opposite is happening. My waspish little sister’s an inexhaustible source of voluptuous pleasure. The more I fuck her the more I want to fuck her. She says it’s because I’m her brother and she loves me.
She nuzzles my ear:
“I don’t believe that tanning-salon story. Mom’s never been to a tanning salon in her life. She doesn’t like tanning salon’s. Mom likes to tan properly, in the sun’s ‘natural, health-giving UV’.”
“… Yeah… well… I dunno…”
I love the way Sandra throws her leg over my hip, so my hip can feel how hot and wet her pussy is, the hot cum from my last climax still trickling out of her molten gash, letting me know she’s ready for another one whenever I like.
She runs her fingertips through the hair on my chest, winds a hank of virile wisps round a damson nail and purrs:
“Did you put the tanning salon idea in Mom’s mind when you hypnotized her?”
Sandra’s not an air-head at all. She knows that I use hypnosis, how I make Mom my sex slave when she’s in the trance state. Sandra’s put two and two together.
“… Erm… yeah… well… sorta…”
Her moist split closes over my hip. Her heel stirs sweet nothings into my tail-bone.
“… N Howard said she was in his office at three… discussing ‘the Genetic Advantages Of Self Restraint’ for an hour…’”
“… Mm-mmm… that’s right…”
Her small breasts are bud-like and dewy, replacing her fingernail, sinking into my chest, her nipples fully erect, tracing the gently pulsing beating of her heart into my pecs.
She snuggles against me, her body a perky lie detector picking up every ache and throb of my rock-hard need.
“… So something did happen in Howard’s office? She got her ‘over-tanned’ ass in Howard’s office, not the tanning salon…?”
“… Erm… well… yeah…”
“… Howard smacked her ass…?”
“… Yes…”
“… The bastard slapped her ass so hard it hurt her to sit down tonight…”
“… Yes… I recorded it… but it was so upsetting I deleted the footage…”
She knows I’m lying, but Sandra lets the deception pass. It’s only a white lie.
She shrugs:
“… Whatever…”
She frowns:
“… And Howard’s told her to come to his office tomorrow. He’s ordered her to be at his office at three p.m tomorrow…”
“Oh God!”
How could I have been so stupid?
Why didn’t I realize? Mom doesn’t know that Howard smacked her. My mother’s completely unaware that her fiancé gave her a thrashing with his ruler! My mother doesn’t realize she enjoyed the pain her fiancé inflicted on her bootylicious butt!
My mother doesn’t know a thing but…
… Howard does know! Mom’s creepy fiancé is fully aware of everything. He’s ordered her to his office tomorrow to give her another flogging!
Mom will be appalled. My mother will be shocked to her core when it happens.
I groan:
“He’ll freak her out! It’ll kill her! Mom’s not built to take shocks like that!”
Sandra shrugs. My little sister’s supple shoulders flutter like a bird trapped in my arms.
“… I don’t know… maybe she’ll enjoy it again… perhaps she’ll get off on it bigtime, even more than when she was hypnotized… being wide awake and fully conscious will give her the thrill of her life…”
The ghastly logic hits home. I mumble:
“… Howard’s control of her will become total… the bastard will own our mother body and soul…”
I feel a twinge of guilt. I’m a bastard too. I want to own our mother body and soul myself.
Sandra’s lips graze mine. She moues moist snail-tracks across my mouth. She whispers:
“… You want to fuck Mom too, don’t you…?”
“… No… no I don’t… not really…”
My little sister purrs:
“… Yes you do… you want to fuck Mom, Matty… you want to smack her too…”
She’s read my thoughts. She’s winkled out my secret.
“… No…!”
“… Don’t say no… you want to smack her much harder than Howard… you want to flog her big, beautiful butt till she screams for mercy…”
Her tongue-tip darts at my gaping mouth.
“… Our mother’s bootylicious ass is so hot, Matty…” Sandra knows exactly what I feel for our Mom’s curvaceous ass, exactly what I want to do to our Mom’s big sumptuous butt. She feels the same. Sandra wants to do it too! Her murmur turns to a thrilling purr. “… You want to thrash the living daylights out of our Mom’s big voluptuous butt!”
“… Mm-mmmmmmmmm…”
Our tongues twine. Her slippery supple tongues grapples with my powerful mouth-meat. I can feel the heat of her lips stinging at the corners as our mouths batten.
“… Mm-mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm…
She reaches between our bodies. She takes my cock in her hand. Her hot fist pumps my rock-hard shaft. Her sisterly urgency takes my breath away.
She murmurs:
“… You deleted the video didn’t you, you bastard…?”
We kiss.
‘Bastard’s never tasted so sweet and voluptuous, ‘bastard’s never breathed from such delicious, plump, cupid’s-bow lips before.
“… Yes…”
“… So you can put Mom in a trance and smack her hard yourself when you fuck her…”
“… Mm-mmm…”
Her leg unwinds from round my hip. She’s rolling onto her back. Her silky thighs part. Her arms are around my neck pulling me down on top of her.
“… Like you fuck me, Matty…” My breath’s stuck in my throat. I can’t answer. “… Like you fuck me so good…”
My little sister laughs:
“… Hey…!… don’t look so shocked…!… we’re in this together, Matty, you n me…”
For a second I’m scared of what’s happening. I don’t want to live in a kinky family. I’ve always thought Sandra and Mom and me were a solid unit. For a second I don’t wish to be a member of a debauched family… but only for a second…
“… Oh… oh… oh fuck…”
Sandra’s slipping my throbbing spear-head into her molten fuck-hole.
“… Fu-uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck…!”
I’m slamming it into her hard and fast and deep.
It’s two o’clock the next afternoon.
I can hear Mom getting ready to leave for her appointment with Howard.
I sidle into her bedroom.
“Matty! What are your doing in here? You know I don’t like you watching me getting dressed! Get out of here!”
My usual prissy, uptight Mom, too prudish to even let me watch her putting on a pair of shoes let alone a…
I stop breathing altogether.
Her curvaceous ass jellies, red and raw, still crimson from the thrashing Howard gave it yesterday.
She’s stepping into a gauzy, fuck-me thong.
“… Ouch…!”
Everything goes black. My cock throbs. My big thing aches like it’s never ached in my life before. She’s my mother. The woman who carried me in her body. The voluptuous body that gave birth to me. She’s uptight and prudish, and totally innocent. She’s Howard’s ideal fiancé going for an uplifting discussion of ‘higher matters’… but she’s flinching a fuck-me thong up over her inflamed ass-cheeks… she’s adjusting hot elastic in the sumptuous ass-cleft Howard flogged red raw yesterday.
She’s not hypnotized. She doesn’t remember a single detail of what happened yesterday. Her mind’s oblivious. She’s forgotten everything that happened in Howard’s office yesterday, but she’s slipping on a sexy thong, her body remembers everything.
I say:
“That thong’s a bit risqué, Mom.”
She preens:
“Risqué? Why, no! It’s not risqué at all, Matty!”
She gets the tiny gauze triangle centered on her moist pussy.
“Howard will disapprove!”
She pouts:
“Howard? Oh Howard won’t see! I’m so excited a nice thong will go with how I feel! It’s such a privilege to share Howard’s quiet time together, discussing higher principles in a pretty thong…” She laughs lightly. “… Perhaps even making wedding plans…!”
She’s right about ‘Howard won’t see’. She’s pulling one of her loose-fitting, weight-concealing, ankle-length robes on over her head. Howard won’t see, unless he orders her to lift it so he can smack her bottom again.
I grin:
“Higher principles? Wedding plans? That sounds interesting, Mom. Perhaps I’ll come with you…”
Her jaw drops. She gapes:
“… Come with me…?”
“… Yes. Me and Sandra. Maybe we’ll come with you. Howard’s joining the family. He can instruct the three of us on higher things.”
“… No… really… Matty… I don’t think that’s such a good idea… a fiancé and his bride-to-be need to spend some private time together…”
That says it all. If Howard does order her to lift her robe and put her over his knee she’ll be perfectly willing to obey, she’s looking forward to obeying.
“No, Mom. We’re coming.”
Sandra lounges in, dressed and ready to go. She beams:
“We’re going as a family!”
Mom frets and fusses but she has to give way. She’s always nagged us to be nicer to Howard. She’s always moaned at us for not taking Howard’s teachings seriously.
Mom accepts my offer to drive and we all pile into my second-hand Volvo.
I park in the Humanities car-park— Howard works in the Social Work Faculty—and we walk across sun-burned lawns towards Howard’s building, Sandra and I sharing grins like the cats who got the cream, Mom bustling along, uptight and hot and bothered, irritated that she’s missing her one-on-one hour with her fiancé, her conscious mind upset that she won’t be receiving his moral instruction tête-à-téte, her sumptuous body upset that it won’t get a thrashing.
We pass some toilets.
Mom blurts:
“… One moment…!… just a minute…!… I just need to… freshen up…!”
Howard disapproves of make-up. Howard thunders judgments down upon the heads of ‘painted Jezebels’, but Mom’s so desperate to keep hold of him she uses a range of subtle cosmetics that men like Howard are too high and mighty to notice. Nude peach blusher to highlight her high, chiseled cheekbones. Transparent ruby gloss for her full, sumptuous lips.
She hurries into the toilet to ‘freshen up her face’.
Sandra and I stand waiting. It always takes Mom a long time to freshen up her face.
“Hi, Matty!”
A rich, gravelly voice. A sixty-cigarettes-a-day voice:
“This your little sister?”
I spin round.
“… Oh… hi, Professor Graves… yes… this is Sandra, my little sis…”
It’s my Film Technology professor, the one who taught me how to remaster videos and alter sound-tracks and loaned me the equipment to transform Howard’s blog and hypnotize Mom with it… though Professor Graves knows nothing about that of course.
For some unaccountable reason I add:
“… Mom’s just in the toilet freshening up her make-up…”
I don’t know why the words rush into my mind. Professor Graves doesn’t know my mother. He’s only been at the college a couple of months. He’s never met my Mom. Whether my mother’s in the toilet freshening up her make-up or not is none of his business.
He laughs his deep, scratchy laugh:
“… Yes, yes… she always took forever to do her make-up…”
He stops dead. His swarthy face flushes:
“… I mean… women… they always take forever to do their make-up…”
I like Professor Graves. He’s a brilliant cinematographer and video technician. I have a feeling I’m his favorite student. He’s taught me loads in just a couple of months.
He looks my little sister up and down. It’s the first time he’s met Sandra. His eyes feast on her slim, perky body and drop dead gorgeous face and the chic two-piece suit she’s put on.
“… So you’re Sandra… yes… yes indeed… pretty…!… very very pretty…!”
Sandra blushes.
For a horrible instant I think he’s clocked that Sandra and I are sleeping together. But no. That’s impossible. He’s just a virile, mature man giving a smoking hot teenage chick the appreciation she deserves.
He beams:
“Don’t miss Monday’s tutorial, Matty. I’ve got a new project going that I want to show to you.”
Professor Graves always manages to make his tutorials and projects sound very exciting and mysterious. They are exciting and mysterious.
He’s a tall, well-built man of around forty. The expensive suits Professor Graves wears round the college contrast noticeably with Howard’s checked shirts and tight chinos. I guess Professor Graves spends plenty of time in the gym too. He’s as broad across the shoulders and muscular as I am. We even look a bit alike. Dark, wavy hair. Aquiline nose. Broad, powerful lips and dark brown eyes.
The Professor’s explaining to Sandra what a brilliant brother she has, when there’s a click of high heels on tiles from inside the toilets. Mom’s finally finished doing her face.
Professor Graves jumps.
“… Oops… well… time flies… I’d better be off…”
He turns and disappears round a corner before Mom’s even out through the toilet entrance, almost as if—though I know this is impossible—he doesn’t want her to see him.
The hour Mom, Sandra and I spend in Doctor Howard Montgomery’s office is the most boring of my whole life.
Howard drones on about ‘a healthy mind in a healthy body’ and the ‘social benefits of sexual purity’.
Mom drinks in every word he says, her big blue doe eyes filled with yearning.
Sandra fidgets.
I feel immensely uncomfortable.
Howard’s tight lips purse. His pasty face is red. His blood pressure is way up, frustrated that he has to give us a family tutorial instead of putting her over his knee again.
I feel like I’m going to die of boredom but at least Sandra and I stop anything disastrous happening.
Four o’clock strikes.
We stand up and thank him for his words of wisdom, everybody uptight, but nobody saying anything.
Howard doesn’t invite Mom back for another ‘quiet time together’ in his office. Mom’s yearning to be invited. Howard’s blood pressure’s off the chart, but he’s a clever man. He senses Sandra and I will come tomorrow too if he invites my mother back, that Sandra and I are accompanying our Mom for a reason.
He resumes his dinnertime visits to our house, however. Mom’s open invitation for Howard to ‘break bread with us’ becomes even more insistent, but Sandra and I make sure that Mom and Doctor Howard Montgomery aren’t left alone together for a single instant.
That night— as soon as Mom’s asleep— Sandra comes into my bedroom.
She has her phone in her hand and a serious look on her face.
Her big blue eyes gaze up at me.
She’s still wearing the chic two-piece suit she wore to Howard’s office, not the skimpy outfits she chooses when she’s relaxing around the house.
A tight blue jacket parting on a plain white business shirt beneath which her small, taut breasts might easily pass for a boy’s chest. The blue miniskirt even tighter, molding her pert butt’s contours and cleft to perfection… to innocent perfection… the hem well below where her shapely ass lifts off…
For a second I wonder if she’s decided not to sleep with me tonight, if her suit is a signal that our brief affair is over. Mario’s got in touch with her from Florida. She’s thinking of flying down to Hollywood Beach again.
She gazes up into my eyes, but doesn’t reach out to stroke my chest or kiss me like she usually does.
She murmurs:
“… I feel bad, Matty…”
Guilt’s finally caught up with her. Sandra’s ashamed. The burden of our incestuous relationship has finally got too much for her.
I mumble:
“… Bad…?”
I’m her brother. Her big brother. I’m the one in the family who’s supposed to guide and lead her, not get my kicks fucking my own flesh and blood.
“… Yes… I feel terrible… forcing you to love me…”
“… Forcing me…?”
Her bottom lip trembles:
“… Yes… look…”
She shows me her phone.
On the screen, suspended in frozen action, is the video she took of me and Mom in the sand dunes.
She murmurs:
“… You don’t really love me, Matty… I know you never really wanted to make love to me… I forced you… I blackmailed you…!”
I mumble:
“… Yeah… well… but…”
She blurts:
“… You don’t really want us to make love…”
“Don’t say that!”
“I black-mailed you with this…”
She holds the screen up for me to see.
“… Mom and you…”
Her eyes go hard and serious:
“… It’s none of my business what you do with Mom…!”
I mutter:
“… Yeah… but…”
“… I should never have forced you… I feel terrible blackmailing you… so… so look…!”
She presses DELETE. The image disappears from her screen. The video’s scrubbed.
“… I’m deleting it… I’ve deleted the back-up too… there’s not a shred of evidence in existence any more that proves Mom gave you a blowjob… so…”
Her seriousness frighten me.
“… You’re free now, Matty. Free to do what you want…”
She turns to go. Her slim shoulders quiver in the tight blue jacket.
I reach out:
“… Hey…!… hang on…!”
She’s right. She’s just deleted her power over me. Our relationship is wrong. Making love to her is deeply wrong. She’s my sister, my little sister, eighteen but still my baby sis. We’re flesh and blood. Loving her is wrong.
Her shoulder is warm and supple, trapped in tight blue cotton. I turn her round to face me.
“… Look… Sandra…”
Her spiky blonde hair sticks up lustrously sure of itself. Her big blue eyes are wide and brave. Her small breasts thrust her jacket’s chic flaps open. Her hot, loving pussy quakes under tight blue cotton.
I mumble:
“… I… I don’t just… just… you know… like you… because of the video…” I pull her against me. “… I like you without the video… I like you a lot…”
Her arms fly round my neck:
“… Yes…?”
Her bud-like breasts swarm hot and urgent up my chest to where my heart is beating like crazy.
I mumble:
“… Yes…”
Her moist teenage cunt grinds against my rock-hard cock.
“… You really love me…?”
I cup her toned ass in both hands. I drag my little sister’s hot gash tighter against my aching shaft.
“… Yes… I really love you…”
Her plump lips batten moistly on my broad strong lips. Her supple, juicy tongue wrestles with my aching mouth-meat. Our mouths batten with a hunger we know will never be satisfied.
Over the following days Sandra and I grow closer, more and more trusting of each other. My little sister knows now how passionately I desire her smoking hot body. I’m equally aware that Sandra hasn’t seduced me merely to make mischief in our family.
One morning, slipping out of bed—Mom’s moving around in the next room, getting dressed— Sandra pouts:
“It’s not fair!”
“What’s not fair?”
She shrugs:
“… You n me… we’re lovers… we love each other much more than any other lovers in history…”
Sandra can exaggerate when she’s excited:
“… And we’ve got to hide our love! We have to conceal the fact that we love each other! We can’t even hold hands in public!”
I grin:
“Hold hands? In public? Of course we can’t!”
Maybe some brothers and sisters hold hands in public, but that’s never been the way in our family. If anything, up until we started sleeping together, my sister and I have been physically stand-offish in public.
She pouts:
“… Let alone kiss…”
“Kiss?” I laugh out loud. “You must be joking!”
An ominous, churning sensation in my stomach tells me my little sister isn’t joking. She isn’t joking at all.
There are no more smacking sessions in Howard’s office due to me and my little sister’s vigilance.
Doctor Montgomery’s shrewd. He’s given up on his desire for a repeat performance. He realizes that getting my Mom alone in his office and smacking her butt till she can’t sit down is dangerous.
Me, I haven’t given up on the desire to give my mother a thrashing.
I try to drive the thought from my mind.
I do my best to ban the image of my mother’s voluptuous butt jellying and turning red under the rain of stinging blows. I struggle against the memory of her cries of pleasure, the ecstasy with which she climaxed sprawled across Howard’s knee, the delight with which she braced against the wall as he laced into her raw ass with his ruler.
The riding crop’s still in my wardrobe. I haven’t thrown it away. I’ve promised myself a thousand times I’d get rid of the tempting instrument of torture, but the riding crop’s still hidden in the bottom of my wardrobe, waiting for me to use it on my mother.
My little sister’s willingness to go along with my fantasies, even egg my lustful thoughts towards our mother on, isn’t helping either. I sometimes wish Sandra would try to stop me, but my nymphomaniac, eighteen-year-old lover is eager to participate in any act that ‘makes me happy’.
Mom’s no help either.
One afternoon she calls me into her bedroom.
She’s in her bathrobe, her chunky body warm and steamy from the shower. The toweling belt is tied firmly round her broad waist. The bathrobe’s wrapped tightly up near her throat but the wobbly weight of her large breasts is still unmistakable, jellying under the warm toweling.
Her big blue eyes are anxious. She frowns:
“… Matty… do you think my bottom is okay…?”
I nearly jump out of my skin.
“… Okay…?”
Her forehead creases:
“… Mm-mmm… fully okay… it’s been nearly a week now since I went to the tanning salon…”
I gulp:
“Hell. I don’t know Mom, do I?”
Her brow wrinkles:
“… I mean… do you think my skin will fully recover, get back to… the way it was before…?” The way it was before was silky smooth and breath-takingly toned. “… Before I so foolishly fell asleep in the tanning salon…?”
She’s swallowed my tanning salon story hook, line and sinker. It’s yet to occur to her that, if she really had got too much UV radiation on a sunbed, the whole of her back would have been raw, her spine and shoulders too, not just her bottom.
She frowns:
“… Howard wants to take me to the beach on Saturday and… well… I know my swimsuit’s modest but… I don’t want any redness squeezing out… he’ll think I’m fat…”
I groan inwardly. There’s no escaping Howard:
“You’ll be fine, Mom.”
She’s totally back under Howard’s thumb.
She murmurs:
“… Look… I want to show you… I need your opinion, Matty… shut your eyes…”
I’m not sure what’s happening.
I shut my eyes.
After a long time I hear her voice:
“… Okay… you can open them now…”
I open my eyes.
My mother’s taken off her bathrobe. She’s lying naked on the bed, face down, her legs pressed tightly together.
“… I’ve used so much cream…!”
For a dreadful second I think she’s tempting me, her memories of the hypnotic state are rising to the surface bringing up all the delicious things we’ve done together when she’s been hypnotized.
But no.
No way.
Her legs are pressed too tightly together. Her arms are pressed to her sides, covering her breasts’ luscious descent into the bedspread. She’s as uptight and prudish as ever, just anxious about Howard seeing any inflamed skin slipping out from under her swimsuit, oblivious of the fact that it was Howard who inflamed it.
“… You don’t think that the skin’s been damaged, do you…?”
The skin hasn’t been damaged at all.
Her ass has fully recovered from Howard’s blows.
Her skin is perfectly toned and silky again.
Her sumptuous ass-cheeks wobble like two tanned blancmanges, immaculately delicious.
My mother’s so innocent she’d never once dream that her naked ass could be giving her son a tingle. Such desires never arise between a mother and her offspring. She’s so dopey she can’t even imagine that one glimpse of her bootylicious butt has got her son’s big cock throbbing.
I catch my breath:
“… No, Mom… your bottom’s fine… not a trace of inflammation …”
My need to touch that silky skin is so great, everything goes black.
She murmurs:
“… Oh… good… the cream’s been working then… perhaps you could…”
There’s a tube of moisturizing cream on her bedside table. She keeps her arms firmly pressed to her sides. The sides of her big voluptuous breasts relaxing into the bedspread is too revealing to look at. Her butt lifts.
“… Perhaps you could rub some in…?”
I choke:
“… I dunno, Mom… I’m not very good at applying cream… I… I’ve never done it before…”
“… Oo… just squirt some on and rub it in, Matty… it won’t take a minute… it’s your mother’s bottom, not Linda Evangelista’s…”
I stop breathing. Perhaps she is tempting me. Her body’s hotter than Linda Evangelista’s.
I pick up the tube. I squeeze out a good load. Lassos of cool cream snake across my mother’s voluptuous ass-cheeks, settle in her sumptuous ass-cleft.
“… Yes… just rub it in gently, Matty… I don’t want to remind Howard about the tanning salon…”
My big cock throbs. The throb turns to a heavy ache. My fingertips sink into a delirious softness. The quaking give of my mother’s succulent fullness takes my fingertips in deliciously deep. She must surely be able to feel the pulsing desire in my fingers as they knead and squeeze.
“… You’re sure Howard won’t see any trace of damage…?”
Freaking Howard. Always freaking Howard.
“… Yes, Mom… I’m sure…”
I part her ass-cheeks with my thumbs. I massage creamy coolness into her pulsing tail-bone. Her silky thighs part, allow me to check her ring isn’t sunburned.
“… Mm-mmm… thank you, Matty… you’ve always been a helpful boy…”
I haven’t always been a helpful boy. Only now. Only with my cock stiffening. Only with my thick cock lifting its throbbing spear-head.
Her prissy tone resumes:
“Okay, Matty. That’s enough. Thank you very much.”
I escape from her bedroom before she dares roll over and stand up and get dressed.
I’ve escaped. I’ve done it. I’ve battled with my desire and overcome it.
I feel good. I’m a good son after all. It’s the last time I’ll ever touch my mother in a sexual way again. I was aroused. I wanted to touch her. I needed to touch her all over. Her sumptuous softness got my cock rock-hard in an instant. I needed to slam my throbbing cock into my Mom’s hot ass but I didn’t. I didn’t even try. I controlled myself. I held back. I didn’t give in to my mother’s breath-taking allure.
I’m head over heels in love with my little sister. Sandra and I fuck all night long. But I still feel deeply relieved. At least I’m never going to commit the ultimate sin. I’ll never go all the way with my mother.
It’s a warm summer evening. Sandra’s down the mall hanging out with her rude girl friends.
Howard’s away at a conference, ‘The Moral Tutor As Personal Trainer’.
I’ve just spent a pleasant hour with Gracie’s son, Bernard.
Bernard assured me that Howard’s given up his pursuit of his mother, my Mom’s best friend Gracie with the ‘perfect body for a future wife’. Howard took Gracie’s advice to ‘go f*** himself’ personally.
I still haven’t told Bernard about his mother hitting on me in the garage. How do you tell a new friend that his mother’s sucked your cock?
Bernard’s the son of the first of Gracie’s three husbands. We have a lot in common. We both have absentee fathers, whose faces we’ve never seen.
Bernard’s a cool guy. He let me into some pretty private stuff about his family:
“My mother’s worrying me, Matty. She’s restless. She’s been extra hyper lately. I know the signs. Mom’s looking for another husband. Number Four. I always get nervous when Mom’s hunting for a new man, particularly when there’s no man on the horizon. She’s not dating anyone. There’s no one calling round to pick her up. But lately she’s been all het up.”
I try to reassure him:
“Oh well. I guess once she’s settled down with someone she’ll be happier.”
It’s one less thing for me to worry about, at least Mom’s best friend looking for a new man will get her off my case.
I get home in an altogether more upbeat frame of mind. Life’s getting better. Things are looking up.
I walk into my bedroom and my Mom’s standing at my desk leaning over my computer, my computer booted up and running, her podgy fingers playing with my mouse, flicking through my private files.
“Mom? What the hell are you doing?”
She smiles over her shoulder:
“… Oo… just checking through some old files of yours, Matty…”
My body tenses. There’s a churn of dread in my stomach.
“What old files of mine?”
I’ve deleted the footage of Howard smacking her in his office, but there are still things on my computer I’d rather my mother didn’t see.
“… Oo… just that copy Howard’s video blog, ‘Thoughts For Today: Living With Sex’…”
I go cold all over. The video I remastered to hypnotize her. The footage I used to put her in a hypnotic trance! I should have deleted it as soon as I’d planted the trigger words in her brain!
She pouts:
“… I’ve lost my copy and I remember my copy was sent to me from your computer so I thought that maybe if I search through your files I might find it… it’s such a beautiful blog… one of Howard’s best videos… I so want to watch it again…!”
I snap:
“Yeah. Well. You can’t. It’s my computer, not yours. How dare you go through my stuff!”
It’s the toughest I’ve ever spoken to my Mom in my whole life!
She’s wearing her white pants suit and flouncy blouse. The outfit’s starting to freak me out. Skin-tight white slacks. A chic white jacket opening on a cascade of creamy flounces. It’s the ensemble she wears for Howard, when he comes to dinner. She looks sensational. She only wears her pants suit to impress Howard and Howard’s in Los Angeles!
She moues:
“… Oh… don’t be like that, Matty… it’s such a beautiful video… I remember the first time I saw it, after Howard came to dinner and said that my paté was too spicy… I’ve accidentally deleted it, and I so want to watch it again… so does Howard…”
“What?”
I’m dropping through the bottom of my stomach.
“… Yes… Howard says he wants to check the copy of it he sent to me, see if it’s the same as the one he posted on his website…”
“Ey?”
Howard suspects something. Howard knows I’m an expert cinematographic editor. I’ve got all the equipment. Howard suspects I did something to his video. That I altered his face. And doctored his voice. That I added trance-y music and Theta brainwave effects. He’s sussed out that Mom was in a trance state when she hit on him in his office! He’s figured out that Mom was deeply hypnotized when she let him smack her bottom, when she wanted him to hit her harder. Howard doesn’t want to ‘check the copy he sent her’. He wants to use the remastered video to put my mother under his total control when she’s hypnotized, just like she’s under my total control when she’s hypnotized! He wants to hypnotize her himself and have his way with her!
Mom pouts:
“… You heard me… Howard asked me to find the video I watched that night… he knows there’s a copy on your computer… he wants me to send it to him…”
I shriek:
“No! You mustn’t! You can’t!”
Her plump lips moue. She beams:
“… I already have, Matty…”
“… You’ve already what…?”
“… Found it and sent it to Howard…” She preens: “… I’m not so dumb with computers as you think…”
“You bitch!” I see red. “You sent my copy to Howard…?”
Her blue doe eyes go big and round:
“… I was only doing what Howard asked me, Matty…”
“Freaking Howard?!!!”
Everything goes black.
The red mist comes down.
I say it, in my special trigger word voice:
“… Easy…!”
I’m too angry to even put the trigger word into a proper sentence.
… A moment’s bewilderment… her big blue doe eyes startled… her startled gaze empties out… my mother’s plump lips open… her voice comes from a long way away:
“… I’m sorry I’ve been naughty, Howard…”
I scream:
“How dare you?!”
“… I’m so so sorry… I’ve been a naughty little girl…”
“You bitch!”
“… Yes… yes… punish me, Howard… your naughty little bitch needs punishing… teach me not to ever do it again…”
“… I’ll… I’ll…!”
“… Smack me, Howard… ple-eeeeeeease… I’ve been so-ooo naughty… smack your naughty little fiancé…”
The words she uttered in Howard’s office! The exact same words she cried out on CCTV:
“… I’m sorry, Howard… I’m so-ooo sorry… please smack me… teach me never to be naughty again, Howard…”
My voice goes high and shrill:
“… I’ll not have a wife of mine whoring herself in flouncy blouses and skin-tight pants…!”
It’s not my voice, it’s Howard’s!
I pin her backwards against the desk. Her legs spread. I grab two handfuls of creamy flounces and rip her blouse open.
I shriek:
“… Just as I thought…!”
The slut’s not wearing a bra!
Her big breasts quake in my hands. Her sumptuous softness pulses in my hands. I squeeze hard. Voluptuous fullness jellies between my fingers. Her nipples stand up taut and erect, urging me to squeeze harder.
“… Ow… ow… yes… yes… I’m sorry I’m so fat, Howard…”
I hiss through gritted teeth:
“… I’ll give you ‘fat’, you dirty bitch…”
I drag her zip down. Her skin-tight pants pop open. I tug her slacks down over her curvaceous bottom. I tug hard. She’s right. Her ass is too chunky. The hot fabric doesn’t want to let go. Something tears and her pants are caught between her knees.
She’s sent my doctored video to Howard, but that’s not what’s driving me crazy.
“… You like the ‘fuck-me’ look do you, bitch…?”
I wrench at her see-thru thong’s gauzy triangle. I drag her thong down to join her skin-tight pants tangled between her knees.
I sit down hard. I plonk into the chair and pull my mother down across my knees. Her silky ass-cheeks quiver, spalyed on my muscular thighs, two full moons rising on a hot night
I growl:
“… I’ll teach you to play games with me, Teresa…”
Smack
“… Ow…!”
My fingers sting. My palm burns. I smack her voluptuous ass so hard the shiver runs right up my arm, tingles my heart in time to her shuddering softness instantly turning red.
She can call me Howard as much as she likes. I’m bigger and stronger than Howard. My hand comes down much harder:
Smack!
“… Ouch…!”
I leave a full hot stinging palm and five crimson fingers in her quaking softness, a hand print off a hot plate.
“… That video was private, bitch…!”
Smack!
“… Ow-eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee…!”
Her belly wriggles voluptuously in my lap. My mother’s stomach undulates sumptuously on my stiff cock. I spread my legs wider apart. Her chunky belly settles heavier on my pounding piston. Her silky stomach spasms on my throbbing spear-head, grinds my swollen tip into her slippery navel.
Smack!
She’s climaxing.
“… Ow… ow… oh… oh fu-uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck…!”
Her ass jerks and bucks, plows hot ecstasy into my aching crotch.
Smack!
Her big wobbly tits hang helplessly writhing down the side of my leg, jellying milky warmth into aching leg muscle.
Smack!
“… Ow-wwwwwwwww-eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee…!”
Her curvaceous ass-cheeks glow hot and red. Her sumptuous butt lifts, searching for the next blow. A swarm of crimson stings shudders my mother’s bootylicious butt.
Smack!
“… Yes… yes…”
Her legs part helplessly. Her inner thighs are glistening.
Smack!
“… Ye-eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeees…!”
She’s hot on the trigger. My drop dead gorgeous mother cums again and again.
It’s not enough. She can climax till the end of time, I’m still not satisfied.
“… Please, Howard… please… harder… hit me harder…”
I growl:
“I’ll give you ‘… please, Howard…’, bitch. I’ll give you ‘… harder… hit me harder…’!”
I lift her off my knee and slam her against the wall.
She slithers off my knee, collapses on the floor then rises to her feet again. She knows what to do. She braces both hands against the wall and spreads her legs. She cocks her sweet, inflamed ass.
I’ve got the riding crop in my hand.
I realize what a perfect purchase the riding crop is, so much more useful than a stupid ruler. A nice whippy shaft with a smooth leather tongue ideal for driving a hot mare crazy.
“… Please, Howard… flog me… flog my hot ass…”
‘Flog’ can wait. Her hot ass can wait. Howard likes to take his time.
“… Wider, bitch…”
She leans into the wall and spreads her legs even wider. She’s cum three or four times already. The juicy evidence is trickling out of her wet cunt.
I apply the leather tongue to her molten gash. I slide it up and down in her wet pussy, let her feel how hard it’s going to sting when it chooses to flog her.
“… Oh… oh…”
The crop’s leather tip is sopping wet already, sinking in deep, plowing the hot swamp between my mother’s legs, parting her melting slit’s luscious lips.
“… Oh… oh… oh fuck…”
She wants me to hit her.
I don’t.
I slide the leather tip down again, let the smooth tongue lap at her pulsing clit, let it spread her nub’s saturated hood, linger as another meltdown kicks off.
“… Please… ple-eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeese…”
Her hot gash jerks and kicks on slim, wet leather.
‘Please?’ She said ‘… ple-eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeese…?”
I draw the crop back from where it’s bathing in pulsing wetness and bring it down hard on her luscious ass-cheek.
Crack!
“… Ow-eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee…”
She jumps. She jerks in mid-air. She tries to jump out of her hot, silky skin.
“… Keep those hands where they are…!”
She braces her hands against the wall. My mother cocks her chunky ass for another one. The red palms and crimson fingers swarming on her hot ass are joined by a bright red lesion, a sudden sharper sting.
I feel myself going berserk.
Crack!
“… Ou-oooooooooooooooooooooch…!”
My rock-hard cock’s in my hand. I pump my thick shaft thicker and more rock-hard one-handed, my other hand exerting its full strength bringing stinging leather slamming down again and again.
“… Ow-eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee…!”
Her red ass spasms helplessly. Her big butt kicks the bootylicious kick of ecstasy.
“… Yes… yes… smack me… smack me harder… please… ple-eeeeeeeeese… smack your naughty fiancé harder…”
It’s time to fuck her. She’s irresistible. I have no alternative. I promised Sandra I’d never touch my mother again but it’s too late to worry about promises now.
I press my cock’s full throbbing length into her quaking ass-cleft. My aching thickness parts her crimson ass-cheeks, lets her feel how much hot pulsing cum I’ve got waiting to sink into her molten cunt. I make her wait. I rub my thick shaft up and down from her ring to her spasming tail-bone.
“… Yes… yes… fuck me… fuck me hard… please, Howard… ple-eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee… !”
Howard?
Please, Howard?
The jolt goes through me like I’ve just been kicked by a horse. My pounding piston clenches. My rock-hard shaft aches deep down. The ache turns to a yearning throb and I’m pumping hot cum up my mother’s spine, all over her bootylicious butt. My pulsing seed streams down her rear cleft. I’m spattering my mother’s shoulder-blades with helpless semen.
“What’s going on…?”
A voice at the door.
“… Matty?”
Sandra’s voice.
My little sister’s standing in the doorway, a shocked look on her face.